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junqkook · 8 months ago

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— ROTTENFOLK: AFTERMATH (m.)

PAIRING. jungkook/reader, taehyung/reader GENRE. faerie au, angst, smut WORDS. 10,234 RATING. explicit

SYNOPSIS. six years after escaping from the faerie realm, you’ve done everything to hide yourself and your son from the high king. but you should have known he would never let you go so easily.

CONTENTS. boyfriend taehyung, faerie king jungkook, human reader, mother reader, father jungkook, kidnapping, manipulation, slight dubcon, riding, grinding, creampie, unprotected sex (stay safe!), rough sex, hair pulling, biting/marking, possessiveness, accidental exhibitionism/voyeurism, infidelity, multiple orgasms, hinted f/f, pregnancy, multiple smut scenes (!), overstimulation, fingering, dom jungkook.

NOTES. this is a sequel to rottenfolk. i highly suggest reading rottenfolk before reading this one. Y’ALL GOT ME MISSING THIS WORLD, so i gave in to my own desires and wrote this. i’ll warn you all now: this is not a happy story.

EXTRA NOTES. UNRWA; Care for Gaza; Direct Aid For Gaza. please consider donating to and/or sharing these organizations.

— rottenfolk. rottenfolk: aftermath.

Taehyung’s arms wrapped around you from behind and you giggled, leaning back into his chest. The smell of breakfast filled the kitchen and your boyfriend’s warm lips pressed chaste kisses against your neck.

“Missed you this morning,” he murmured.

You hummed and closed your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling of him. “I woke up early and decided to treat my lovely boys to breakfast today.”

Taehyung chuckled and pulled his mouth away from your neck, resting his cheek against yours instead. “You know what Soobin told me last night?”

“What’d he tell you?”

“He concocted such an imaginative story,” your boyfriend of three years started, a lightness to his voice that comforted you. “Said he saw magical creatures in the forest by the park that knew his name—”

Your eyes shot open and you tensed in Taehyung’s arms. “What?”

He continued without noticing your reaction. “Yeah, he was telling me all about these—actually kind of grotesque now that I think about it—”

You whirled around in his arms and faced him. “When did he tell you this exactly? Where?”

Taehyung cupped your face and smiled at you. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Don’t worry, it’s just a story, he was probably watching YouTube or something and got the ideas—”

“Tae,” you pressed. “I’m serious. Please answer me.”

He held up his hands in defense and nodded. “Okay, okay. He told me while we were walking home from the park yesterday. He was really excited about it and said the fairies told him they’d see him again. It’s nothing bad, sweetheart. He’s just a five year old with an active imagination.”

You cursed under your breath. “Why didn’t you tell me last night?”

Taehyung shrugged and crossed his arms. “I don’t know, it didn’t seem like pressing information to share. And you were dead tired when you came home, so it must have slipped my mind.” As he watched you flutter around the kitchen nervously, he continued. “Can you tell me what’s going on with you right now?”

You sighed and faced your boyfriend. “Remember when I told you about Soobin’s father?”

Taehyung pursed his lips. “Yeah. You said he’s dangerous.”

“He is,” you said. “I didn’t think he’d find me, or even be interested in it, but—he doesn’t know about Soobin. And I planned to keep it that way.”

“Okay,” Taehyung replied slowly. “So what’s changed?”

“Everything,” you whimpered. “If Soobin said that to you, it means his father knows about him. It’s… his people,” you said carefully. “They’re the only ones who would tell Soobin that they’re magical creatures and—if they know about my son, it’s only a matter of time before he knows, too.”

Taehyung rubbed his temples, making sure to keep his voice low. “So, what do we do now?”

Before you could answer, the sound of padding footsteps through the house interrupted your conversation. “Mama, good morning!” Soobin’s sleepy voice called out. He appeared from behind Taehyung, rubbing his tired eyes.

Scooping him up into your arms, you pressed kisses to his chubby cheek. He murmured half-heartedly and buried his little face into your neck. The tips of his growing horns pressed into your skin lightly. You smoothed down his dark hair and gave Taehyung a pleading look.

“Morning, little man,” your boyfriend said, patting your son on the back. “You ready for breakfast?”

Soobin sat up in your arms, turning his small body to look at his surrogate father, who had been in majority of his life. “Yes,” he mumbled, squirming until you set him down so he could grasp at Taehyung’s large hand. “Good morning.”

You watched Taehyung lead him over to the table, helping him scoot his chair closer to the table once he was seated. Hurrying, you brought over your boys’ plates and then went back for yours. Soobin and Taehyung waited for you to be seated to start eating.

“S’good, Mama,” Soobin said around his food.

You smiled. “Thank you, Binnie,” you replied. You almost had no appetite, the thoughts of Jungkook swirling in your head. You hated that your chest still ached, even with the years distancing you.

The day passed achingly slowly, every minute and every second feeling like an eternity; every sound and every shadow brought with it a wave of anxiety that you hadn’t felt in a long time. You felt bad for not allowing Soobin to go with Taehyung to the store, ignoring his pouting with a heavy heart.

Finally, when it was time for bed, you tucked Soobin in with a kiss to his forehead. He looked up at you with his eyes that were so like his father’s, pupils slitted like a cat’s, that you couldn’t help the wave of fear that shot through you. But you knew Soobin wasn’t like Jungkook, no matter how much he grew to resemble him in his looks with every day.

“Binnie,” you whispered, sitting at the edge of his bed while your hand stroked the strands of his dark hair. “I love you.”

He gave you a smile that was so soft, you hated yourself for seeing any part of Jungkook in him. “I love you more, Mama.” You chuckled, your worry easing a tiny bit. “I don’t know why you were sad today, but tomorrow will be better!”

You blinked back the tears that you could feel prickling in your eyes. “I know it will be,” you answered him, leaning down to press another kiss to his forehead. “Sweet dreams, baby.”

As you stood, you noticed Taehyung smiling at the scene from the doorway. “Night, little prince,” he said to your son. The word jabbed at your ribs and you felt like you couldn’t breathe for a moment.

“That’s a new nickname,” you managed to get out between your nerves.

Soobin giggled from his bed. “The magical faeries called me that!” he said excitedly. “Wouldn’t it be so cool if I really was a prince, Mama?”

You turned to give him a strained smile. “It would be so cool, Soobin.”

“So cool,” he repeated, his voice trailing off as his eyes shut. “G’night, Tae.”

When you shut the door of his bedroom, you nearly collapsed—if it hadn’t been for Taehyung’s arms wrapping around your waist, you would have dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung whispered in panic as he held you up. You tried not to cry into his chest, finding comfort in his arms for a few agonizing seconds before you stood completely.

“Nothing, just—I’m fine,” you lied. “We should go to bed.” Taehyung’s lips pursed, not believing you for once second. “Please,” you whimpered.

With a sigh, Taehyung nodded. “Okay, okay. Let’s go to bed.”

Once in your own room, Taehyung’s warm body against yours, you rolled over until you were on top of him. He gazed up at you with hooded eyes, his hands finding purchase on your hips.

“I thought you were tired,” he murmured.

“How can I go to sleep when my man is laying there, looking that good?” you teased, wiggling yourself until you were slowly grinding against his clothed cock. He groaned and you could feel him hardening underneath you. With a shudder, you started grinding yourself against him harder, the friction delicious against your clit.

Taehyung’s hands slipped under your shirt and dragged it off your torso, your hips never stopping their movements against him. He sat up in the bed, his hips rocking up, and his mouth started sucking one of your nipples harshly. You pushed yourself off his lap for a few seconds to rapidly tug your pajama pants and underwear off, pulling Taehyung’s sweats and boxers halfway down his thighs as well. His cock was hard and red and you wrapped your hand around the length of it, pumping it quickly.

“You’re so hot, you know that?” he groaned against your breast, flicking and twisting your other nipple with his fingers. You tried to keep your voice down as you mewled, pushing yourself flush against his body and guiding the head of his cock to your slit. You rubbed it against your slit a few times, the head bumping into your clit with every drag, before you started to lower yourself onto it.

“You’re so big,” you panted into his ear, the burn of his cock stretching your walls making you clench tightly.

“No matter how many times I fuck you, this pussy is always so tight for me,” he grunted, grabbing for your hips and removing his mouth from your chest. His fingers dug into your bare skin and you sank down completely, shivering and clenching his cock inside of you.

Taehyung’s fingers found your clit easily after years of learning your body and he started to rub as you ground your hips into his. Soon, he was thrusting up into you roughly, his fingers on your hips helping you move up and down to keep pace with him. You gripped his hair and tugged his mouth to yours, kissing him deeply, the slap of your skin against his filling the room along with your little noises.

You orgasmed quickly, your wound up body giving way to pleasure easily. As your walls spasmed around his snapping hips, Taehyung cursed under his breath and held you down on his cock as it twitched, spurts of hot come filling you up. He didn’t stop grinding you against him while he rode out his own release, his fingers sliding down to play with your clit.

“Taehyung,” you whined, “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he mumbled against your shoulder, his eyes shut while he savored the feeling.

You couldn’t help your bucking hips, chasing the feeling of his fingers pressed against your clit. You blinked your bleary eyes open and glanced toward the window, meeting cat-like eyes that startled you into a second orgasm while the head of Taehyung’s spilling cock continued to rub against your g-spot.

You had to bite down on your bottom lip to stop the shout that tried to tear itself out of your throat—a mix of fear and pleasure.

Rocking your hips against Taehyung’s softening cock inside of you, you wrapped your arms around him and kept his head buried in your chest as he pressed kisses to the tops of your breasts. Your eyes never left the ones staring back at you.

Jungkook watched you with heat in his gaze, even though the rest of his face seemed as through he were bored and uninterested.

The shockwaves ran through your body, igniting every nerve in your limbs while your boyfriend’s cock slipped out of you, his come following. Your breaths started to quicken when Jungkook’s form left your window, and for a second you thought you might have imagined it. For a second, you let yourself breathe.

Then you realized he had moved toward Soobin’s window, on the other side of the hallway.

With a small yelp, your throat closed up and you couldn’t breathe. Taehyung lifted his head, startled at your sudden sound, and you ripped yourself away from him, not even bothering to clean the mess dripping between your thighs as you hurriedly dressed yourself, moving at a speed you had never moved before.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Taehyung asked, tucking himself back into his pajamas and shifting off the bed.

You didn’t have time to answer him, messily dressed now. Rushing to the bedroom door, you yanked it open and sprinted to your son’s bedroom, heart pounding and blood rushing through your ears.

You threw open Soobin’s door and for a second, time seemed to stop.

The window was open and Soobin was in front of it, Jungkook leaning against the windowsill from outside. Your son turned to look at you, surprise etched into his features, and Jungkook’s eyes found yours for a second time that night. Beside each other, the two looked so alike that you wondered how you had deluded yourself into believing they would never know.

“Sweetmeat,” Jungkook’s voice drawled, your body shuddering on instinct alone. You couldn’t stop shaking, rooted to the spot as his hand settled on top of Soobin’s head. “It’s been a while, I see.”

“Mama!” Soobin cried out, a smile pulling his lips up. “You know faeries? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Jungkook,” you choked out, taking a step into the room as Taehyung’s footsteps sounded behind you. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, every atom in your body completely focused on the father of your child. “Get away from him.”

The faerie king hummed and he moved his hand down to Soobin’s shoulder. “I will not.” Those eyes that were the same as Soobin’s darted down to the young boy before darting up to yours again. “All these years, you’ve kept him a secret from me.”

Taehyung was behind you now, his voice shouting something at Jungkook, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heart and the sweet voice that came from the faerie. You were already inside the bedroom, Taehyung right outside the doorway behind you.

“Close the door, ____,” Jungkook said softly.

Your body moved on its own, shutting the door before Taehyung could force his way in.

“Now lock it.”

You locked it.

Taehyung’s panicked voice and slamming hands against the door barely registered in your head as you turned to face Jungkook.

“Jungkook, please,” you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes. You took a few steps forward, stopping only when you saw his fingers tighten around Soobin’s shoulder. “Please. He’s my son—”

“And mine,” he interrupted harshly. Jungkook’s eyes narrowed when your breath hitched, Soobin’s wide and curious eyes turning toward him once again.

“You’re my dad?” he asked quietly.

Jungkook’s eyes seemed to soften for a moment. You thought it must be a trick of the moonlight. “I am,” he told Soobin. “And I’ve come to bring you to your real home, where you belong.”

“Mama can come, too, right?” he asked, glancing at you before looking at his father.

“Of course,” he said easily. “She is mine, after all, until she draws her last breath and an eternity after.”

He tilted his head and then beckoned you over. You dropped to your knees, wrapping your arms around Soobin and yanking him away from the High King.

“Please, Jungkook,” you whimpered. “Please, leave us here. Leave us alone.”

Jungkook’s eyes hardened and his hand shot out like a bolt of lightning, fingers wrapping around the collar of your shirt and dragging you toward the window roughly. Soobin’s small hands dug into your shirt and you heard him make a distressed noise where you had tucked him close.

“Do you forget yourself, human?” he growled, voice dangerously low. You could feel the anger simmering under the surface, unlike anything you had seen from him years ago—he had always been indifferent to you, never angry. You supposed it was only natural after finding out you had kept Soobin a secret, no matter how unnatural Jungkook was. “Answer me.”

“No,” you said shakily. “I am yours.”

“You will be returning with me to the Faerie Realm,” he snarled. “If only because my son has wished for it. You belong to me, sweetmeat. You are mine to do with as I please.”

“Yes,” you replied quietly, never looking away from his slitted eyes. “I am yours to do with as you please, my king.”

“Now get up and come.”

You did as he asked, rising to your feet and releasing Soobin from your grip, though he kept his hold of your shirt as he looked between the two of you. You couldn’t stop your body from removing his hands from you, even as your hands shook and your breath caught when he begged you not to. Your fingers didn’t even twitch when Jungkook lifted him out of the window and kept him on his hip. You followed immediately after, surprised when Jungkook grabbed a hold of your upper arm and maneuvered you on the branches so that you didn’t fall over as the three of you descended to the grass.

Jungkook kept a tight hold on Soobin’s hand as he led you two away from your home. He didn’t need to keep any kind of grip on you—he knew you would follow him, unable to refute his orders, especially not when he was leading your child away with him.

You didn’t look back at the house once.

The sounds and smells of the Faerie realm was something you hadn't realized you had missed so much. Nostalgia for the years you had spent among these fair folk blossomed in your chest, flowering through your skin until you could feel the tingle in your fingertips.

The faeries through the forest watched the three of you with wonderous eyes, all colors and shapes, the whispers like the sound of bees buzzing through the night air. When you looked at your son, his eyes were taking in everything around him with delight and curiosity.

Soon enough, you were walking up toward the palace that you had known so well before, familiarity settling in your bones as you took the trek.

"Soobin," Jungkook said softly—you didn't think that the High King could ever sound so soft while speaking. "Do you want to see your room?"

"Jungkook," you called, taking a few steps toward them so that you were right behind your husband and the faerie king.

His cat-like eyes cut to you, not nearly as soft as they were when looking at your son, and you hesitated to reach out to touch him. Your brain was screaming at you that any move you made would be a terrible idea.

"You'll wait your turn, sweetmeat," he said to you with a smile that could carve through flesh. "Though I thought you would remember where your place is here."

"Of course," you replied quickly, simmering down so as to not scare Soobin with your own fear.

"Mama," your son said excitedly, his small hand still gripping Jungkook's. "This place is so cool! Why didn't you tell me you knew faeries?" he questioned.

Looking at him now, your heart ached for the way you, too, had once looked on in amazement and only excitement in this realm. What would this place, with its cunning smiles and sweet dangers, do to him and his precious, innocent smile?

"I'm sorry, baby," you cooed, dropping to your knees on the ground in front of you and cupping his face in your hands. You brushed his dark hair back, fingers trying not to bump onto his little horns—they had always been sensitive to the touch. "The faeries have just been so busy, I haven't seen them in so long and forgot to tell you about them."

"Can I play with them?" he asked.

"No—"

"Of course—"

You and Jungkook cut yourselves off, meeting eyes as Soobin looked between the two of you. You could almost see the thoughts swimming around in Jungkook's head, as if deciding what to say. You were too afraid to make a sound, furrowing your brows a bit and hoping that he would have some sense to how your child had been raised so far.

"Why don't your mother and I discuss that and let you know tomorrow, okay?" he eventually said, smiling sweetly at your son—his son. Soobin nodded ecstatically, throwing his arms around you for a tight hug. You squeezed him close to you, kissing the top of his head. "Now say goodnight and I'll show you to your room."

"Goodnight, Mama!" Soobin exclaimed, letting go of you quickly and slipping his tiny hand back into his father's. How were you going to explain everything to him?

Jungkook paused to look back at you as you were getting up from your knees. "I trust that you remember where your chambers are?" he inquired, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Your cheeks flushed with heat and you willed them to go back to their normal color, not wanting to look embarrassed in front of your son. "Yes," you eventually choked out, ignoring the quiet chuckle that Jungkook let out, leading your son down the hall and towards whatever room he had assigned for him.

Sighing, you turned to the other side of the hall, ashamed that your feet did remember the way to Jungkook's chambers, where you always slept, ready to embrace him into you night after night. And you hated that your groin tingled at the memories, the release from earlier still sticky against your skin, even as it dried.

"Sweetmeat," Jungkook cooed as he came into his chambers, a devilish smile playing at his lips.

Your cheeks flushed as you sat on the bed, ashamed at your own body for reacting to his voice like this. The memories flooded your brain, every muscle in your body thrumming as you expected his touch.

"Well," he said, now standing in front of you and his hips sliding between your knees. "I see you have become forgetful in your time away," he murmured, his fingertips brushing your cheek and then tucking your hair behind your ear. "Usually you would await me with nothing on that smooth skin of yours."

You cleared your throat awkwardly as you looked up at him, your legs automatically spreading wider to make room for him to stand between them. You bit your bottom lip and couldn't stop yourself from leaning into his palm, his skin warm and so familiar to you.

"I can't," you whispered, shutting your eyes so you wouldn't see the look on his face.

To your surprise, he leaned down so that his nose brushed yours. Against your better judgement, you let your eyes flutter open and you met his slitted eyes, soft as they looked at you. There was no rage or wrath.

"Why can't you, sweetmeat?" he whispered back, every word making his lips brush against yours lightly with how close he was. You took in a shaky breath, leaning back on your hands to try to put distance between the two of you. "Don't you want me to have you?"

"Yes," you replied on instinct, screwing your eyes shut as his body pressed against yours. "But Taehyung—"

Jungkook's thumb pressed against your bottom lip, stopping you. Your eyes opened again, watching how his were trained on your mouth. "No need to worry about that human," he told you. "You were always mine first." Before you could object, he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips—you never thought you would receive a simple peck from the High King, whose touch had always been so rough and ragged on you.

"I—" You breathed against his mouth, leaning in for more of his kisses. He stayed just out of reach and it felt like a punishment. "I want you," you whimpered, letting one of your hands come up to cup his cheek. You met his eyes shyly, a spark traveling through your abdomen at the dark way he looked at you, like he wished to devour you. "I want you," you repeated.

"You'll never be anyone else's," he said to you as he crawled over your body, gently pushing you back onto the lush mattress. Your heart was pounding in your chest as he tugged your baggy shirt over your torso, revealing your bare breasts to his gaze. "I simply allowed that mortal to loan you," he growled, leaning down to nip at your hard nipple.

"Yes," you sighed, your fingers digging into his dark hair. "I'm only yours." His mouth enveloped the tip of your breast, biting down around the areola and making you hiss from a mix of pain and pleasure. "I belong to you."

Jungkook pulled your sweats down your legs, lifting his head from your chest for only long enough to remove them completely and undress himself as well. Your eyes marveled at his body, not realizing how much you'd missed looking at it. Of course, you couldn't help but let your eyes trail down to his cock, which was already hard and you could feel the tingling between your legs.

His smirk widened as he grabbed your thighs, yanking you towards him until the underside of his cock was pressing against you. A quiet whimper fell from your lips.

"You don't need to be loosened, do you?" he asked sweetly, though you could hear the tinge of mocking in his tone. You'd heard it so often, right here on this very bed, that you could detect anything in Jungkook's voice.

Your cheeks were hot. "No," you whispered, shaking your head. "But I should clean fir—"

"No," he replied, rocking his hips toward you playfully. "I'll fuck you right now."

You wanted to protest, still dripping with Taehyung's cum. A pang of guilt throbbed in your chest, but the ache of desire drowned it out quickly. Your breath caught in your throat as he slowly pushed the length of his cock inside of you, a groan leaving his lips when he bottomed out.

"How are you still this tight?" he asked you, almost incredulous. "Just fucked and still this tight around my cock?"

Clenching around him, your eyes rolled back as he pulled out only a few centimeters before pushing back inside slowly. "I can't help it," you whined, spreading your thighs further apart until your knees were about to touch the silky bedcovers. "You make me this way."

When you met Jungkook's eyes, they were dark and hungry. "You're so wet," he told you, his fingers finding the flesh of your hips and digging into your skin. "I'm going to replace all this cum inside of you with my own."

Before you had a chance to say anything, or even start to feel a shred of shame, he pulled out almost all the way and then shoved himself inside of you, starting a brutal and quick pace. The bed was already shaking with the force of his movements, and your hand darted to your mouth for something to bite down onto.

As he thrusted into you, the lewd sounds echoing in the bedchamber and cum dripping past his cock and down your skin onto the bed, all your thoughts melted away. You had missed him. You'd missed everything about him—your body had missed him. Logically, you knew that this was wrong, that you had finally managed to find peace with the family you had created—but now—

"Jungkook," you moaned, releasing your hand from the bite of your teeth, and slid it onto his shoulder. "I need you—"

"Of course you do, sweetmeat," he cooed, though you could feel the shiver that went through his body. "You belong to me."

You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him even closer to your body. One of his hands moved up from your hip, his palm dragging lightly against your bare skin, cupping your breast and squeezing it in his hands. You whimpered and he pinched your nipple between his fingers, almost too painfully, but you liked it—maybe a little too much.

When his hand moved higher up your body to your neck, squeezing it gently while he shoved himself deeper and deeper into you with every thrust of his hips, you couldn't help the wanton moan that ripped its way out of your throat. Your legs tightened around him, trying to hold him inside of you forever while you twitched and squirmed, your orgasm building quickly and intensely.

"That's it, sweet thing," he purred, pushing his cock in as deep as it would go, using his other hand to push your thigh up so he could shove it in further while you came, clenching around him sporadically. "Did your human make you feel this good?"

"No," you croaked, seeing stars. "No one has ever made me feel this good." And you weren't lying, even though the guilt had started to eat its way through the pleasure in your abdomen.

Jungkook hummed and then started up his agonizing pace once more, making your body squirm and your toes curl.

"I can't," you begged, hands lowering to the bedsheets and clawing them in your fingers. "It hurts—"

"You can," he replied smoothly, and the head of his cock brushed the sensitive spot inside of you. You clenched hard, a cry falling from your mouth. "You will, human."

He pulled his cock out of you and when you looked down, it was wet with a mix of your slick and the cum that had still been inside of you. You didn't have the energy to feel embarrassed, though your cheeks did flush a little hotter than before. In one fluid movement, Jungkook turned you onto your stomach, his hands finding purchase on your hips and pulling them up so that your ass was in the air and your face was pressed against the bed.

You felt the slide of his cock back into you, eyes rolling back and fingers gripping the sheets. As it filled you, the squelch of it entering you again filling the room, Jungkook fisted your hair in his hand and pulled your head up.

Your body was still reeling from your orgasm—the second one that night—so you could do nothing but let him hold you in place there, a little moan coming out of your throat with every harsh thrust.

"That's a good girl," he groaned, his cock twitching inside of you while his thrusts started to slow down. "You always did take my cock so well for a human."

"Yes," you whispered, feeling a little bit of your spit on the corner of your lip. "It's all for you."

Jungkook moaned, shoving your head back down onto the bed, fingers still tightly gripping your hair. The slight pain from his hold mixed well with the pleasure of him rubbing against that spot inside of you over and over until you could barely take it.

"It's like you were molded for me," he said roughly, his body towering over yours as he tried to bury himself inside of you as far as he could go.

"I was," you said in a broken whimper, and you felt the twitch of his cock, followed by a spurt of his release, hot inside of you and filling you completely.

He rolled his hips a few times, and while still inside of you, his hand released your hair and curled around your torso, fingers finding your clit immediately. Your eyes widened for a second, the feeling of his fingers moving against your clit mixing between pleasure and pain. While his seed slipped past his cock and down your thighs, the feelings all crashed into you at once—guilt, pleasure, pain, shame, tingling—and you couldn't help but buck your hips against his hand and orgasm a second time.

When you were done, seeing stars behind your eyelids, he finally pulled out of you, letting his seed spill out of you and allowing your body to fall completely against the cool bed.

Turning to face him as he laid next to you, you couldn't even muster up a smile. Even with sweat on his face, his dark hair clinging to his skin, he still looked beautiful and ethereal.

Jungkook's eyes met yours and you couldn't stop your panting, your body completely spent—you couldn't even bring yourself to care about the mix of your slick and his seed still dripping out of you and onto the bed.

"Are you spent, sweetmeat?" he asked, a smirk starting to play at his lips.

You sighed and nodded, eyes still focused on his. "Yes," you replied slowly. "It's been... A long time," you settled on, not sure how to navigate your absence, even if he had originally allowed it.

"Well," he said gleefully. "You will get used to it again, soon."

It was then that you realized you couldn't see his other hand. When you let your eyes follow his arm down to his hand, you realized it was stroking his still hard cock, your slick and his come mixing all over it. Your cheeks flushed and your eyes widened—though, you could already feel the heat of desire in your belly and the tingling between your thighs as you clenched and unclenched around nothing.

"We are going to have so much fun, sweetmeat," Jungkook snickered, rolling over towards you to lick into your mouth.

The music and feasting was something you had missed, watching all the faeries let loose and be themselves, as grotesque as that might look to your human eyes. Jungkook had seated you at the table, taking Soobin away to introduce him to others and show him around a bit.

You were dressed in a gown made of silk, the neckline dipping almost halfway down your chest, but still covering your breasts from view—Jungkook could be possessive when he wished.

The faeries had given you looks, some with curiosity and some with suspicion—others even with pity, if you weren't completely delusional. Your eyes stayed trained on your son, who was learning how to play a game from the other young faeries around him.

"He belongs here," Jungkook whispered in your ear, spooking you for a moment. You looked up at him as he grinned at Soobin, watching him still as he took his seat beside you at the table, his hand patting your thigh before resting on the arm of his chair.

"I didn't think he'd fit in so well," you admitted, unable to stop the smile on your lips and the softness in your voice when Soobin laughed, holding hands with a young faerie who was dripping sap from their limbs.

Jungkook hummed and lightly tapped your chin with his fingers, turning your face to look at him. "Eat," he said flatly. "You belong here, too."

You swallowed nervously. Your eyes darted down to your plate, full of deliciously smelling food, the aroma calling to you. "Jungkook," you whispered, looking back at him.

His fingertips were so soft against your skin that their presence there could've been a hallucination—but you could feel a razor sharp tingle where they touched you, a subtle threat in the gentleness.

"Jungkook, when will we be able to go home?" you asked quietly,

Though his face hadn't changed, you could feel the tension settling in between your bodies. He hummed and let his fingers drag down from your chin to your neck, and then further down to your collarbones. You shivered, letting your eyes flutter shut while they continued their way down between your neckline, every touch of his igniting the nerves in your body.

His hand shot up and gripped your throat, startling your eyes into opening. He didn't tighten his hold, simply keeping a slight pressure on your neck. Jungkook's expression was wicked—and cruel.

"This is your home," he cooed, though nothing about his tone was soft. He leaned in closer, bringing you closer in as well with his hand around your throat. Your breath caught and he brushed his nose against yours lightly, eyes never wavering from yours. "I thought I did well to remind you of that earlier, sweetmeat."

Heat flooded your cheeks, traveling down your chest and between your thighs. You clasped them together instinctively and shuddered when you saw Jungkook's gaze glance down towards your legs.

"Should I remind you here, sweetmeat?" he continued, snickering at the way you were going pliant in his grasp. "Shall I show my court who you belong to?"

You wanted to say yes—everything in your body was craving him already, wanting every bit of him all over you. And to have every faerie in his court watch as he took you—over and over again—you could barely resist the temptation.

But you couldn't give in right now.

"I want you to," you whimpered, shutting your eyes again as he leaned in closer, licking your lips lewdly. He bit your bottom lip and you gasped, allowing him to press closer, kissing you lazily. His hands released your throat and moved back to the nape of your neck, holding you in place while he kissed you.

"Ew!" a voice exclaimed, a voice that was too familiar—and the entire reason you were planning to refuse his tempting offer.

You tore yourself away from Jungkook, who looked puzzled. "Binnie!" you breathed, shifting in your seat. "What's up, honey?"

Jungkook's hand stayed firmly in its place at the back of your neck, hot and heavy.

"Mama, what are you doing?" your son asked, crinkling his nose up in disgust.

"Your dad and I, we just—we just missed each other, that's all," you explained quickly. "Sometimes adults do that when they really love each other!"

Soobin frowned, tilting his head to the side. Before he could ask anymore questions, Jungkook smiled down at him. "Why don't you go to bed, Soobin?" he said, though you could see even your son, at such a young age, instinctively knew to heed his king's command.

An older faerie, one whose hair looked like sea moss trailing all the way down to its feet, arrived quickly and started to pull Soobin and the other young faerie with him away from the table.

"Wait!" he cried out, rushing over to your side.

You quickly enveloped him in your arms, raising him up to your lap. "What's wrong?" you asked, cupping his cheeks in your palms.

"You didn't give me a goodnight kiss," he pouted, wrapping his small arms around you for a hug.

"Aw, my baby Binnie," you cooed, kissing the top of his head. "Mama loves you so much." He looked up at you, his pouting lips still the same, and you kissed his cheek three times.

"I love you, too, Mama," he replied, leaning up to give your cheek a kiss as well. He looked over to Jungkook. "Can I give Dad a kiss, too?"

You hesitated, looking over at the High King, whose face was unreadable. Then, he opened his arms up in a welcoming gesture—Soobin hurriedly climbed down from your lap and rushed to his father, who gave him a peck on the cheek and ruffled his matching dark hair.

Once your son was bounding away, happily chatting with the faeries surrounding him, you sighed and turned to look at the High King, who you found already watching you.

"This is his home," Jungkook repeated harshly. You pursed your lips, hating yourself for the butterflies in your stomach when you knew Taehyung was waiting for you in the human realm. "Soobin belongs here." You didn't want to admit it, though you knew both of you knew perfectly well that he did fit in here—especially once his horns fully grew in atop his head. "Our other children will belong here, too."

Your cheeks flushed and your eyes widened, taken aback at his words. His face was unreadable, even after spending so much of your time with him. "Other children?" you gasped.

"Yes," he said easily, turning away from you and looking over the dancing and partying faeries. "I need many heirs."

A faerie took his attention before you could formulate any words in response to his statement, but you couldn't stop the pounding of your heart in your chest and the quick soar of elation that filled your head with dangerous thoughts—thoughts of the two of you together for the eternity you had promised to him, of you as his bride, of belonging to this world eternally.

You didn't see Jungkook for the rest of the night, but that didn't stop your imagination from running wild with the possibilities of your future together.

The nights passed in a blur of music, little adventures with Soobin, and reliving your memories from years ago. You couldn't help but lose yourself in this world, fully immersed in the customs and life of Faerie—especially now that you were anticipating your new familial life with Jungkook, as he'd implied.

The door shut behind him quickly and you were already slipping the straps of your dress off of your shoulders, the glitter from the fabric sticking to your skin. It fell to the ground softly and Jungkook's hands were already running down your arms, his body right behind yours.

You turned your face sideways to glance back at him, heat already pooling in your lower abdomen at his touch.

"Lie to me, sweetmeat," he whispered, dropping his head to press kisses to your shoulder, nipping at the flesh with his teeth.

You shuddered as his clothed body pressed into your bare one from behind, the tickle of the fabric causing goosebumps to raise on your skin.

"I want to go home," you murmured, your body molding against his as he walked you forward, bending you over onto the mattress. He undid his pants, letting them fall to the ground, and slid his hard cock against your ass.

You whined and pushed back against him, not even embarrassed at how slick you already were. You were already clenching around nothing in anticipation.

"How badly do you want me?" he asked, keeping one palm spread on your back to hold you down. His foot kicked your legs further apart to open you up completely to him. "Do you crave me?"

You moaned as the head of his cock pushed into your folds lightly but pulled away before giving you what you wanted. "Yes," you said. "I've never stopped wanting you."

Jungkook finally—finally—pushed his cock into you, sliding all the way in easily. He said nothing for a while, simply groaning and thrusting in and out of you, filling the room with the lewd sounds of skin against skin. You were gripping fistfuls of the sheets, even biting down on them when his pace became unforgiving.

"How often did you picture me when that human was buried inside of you?" he asked, and you could hear the large grin in his voice. You didn't answer, heat flooding into your cheeks. "Were you hoping it was my cock inside of you, filling you with my seed?" You moaned in response, clenching tight around him as he picked up his pace even faster, almost slamming his cock into you over and over. "Answer me," he growled, his fingers finding your hair and pulling your head up from where it was flush against the bed.

"Yes," you admitted, your voice shaking. "I wanted you to be the one fucking me—"

Jungkook's door opened and you flinched, though his grip on you didn't loosen and his movements only slowed, never stopping.

A woman came into view, though your eyesight was blurred and you had to focus them to see what she looked like.

"Ah, Wife," Jungkook purred, slowly pushing his cock into you so you could feel every centimeter.

"Husband," she replied easily, barely glancing at you.

You clenched around him from your shock, your little breathy sounds fading into the background. You couldn't stop your body from pushing back into him, wanton for him.

"What is it?" he asked, his hips still pounding into you from behind. You were staring at the woman, unable to take your eyes off of her as you took in her beauty. Her hair was a light blue, the very tips turning white and ending near her hips. There was a small golden crown wrapped around head, weaving through her hair like vines. Her ears were long and pointed—longer than Jungkook's ears.

"I see you returned your pet," she said instead, blankly looking over your form. You felt like you were being shown at an auction, but you couldn't muster up any feelings of shame, still used to the way the High King would keep you exposed to anyone who opened his door—even his apparent wife.

"I have," he returned gleefully, snickering. His cock slipped out of you with a lewd sound and his hands gripped your body, forcefully turning you over from your bent position so that you were laying flat on your back on the bed. You let out a small sound at the shift, but his cock was already burying itself inside of you again, brushing against your g-spot and making you moan loudly instead. "Isn't she exquisite?"

"She's very loud," his wife said plainly. "I can see the appeal."

Jungkook rocked his hips into you at a slow pace, one of his hands moving up to your breast and kneading it, pinching your nipple hard as you cried out, clenching and unclenching repeatedly.

"They require you in the meeting hall tomorrow morning," his wife continued. Jungkook merely hummed, his eyes completely focused on his cock disappearing into you over and over slowly. "Do not forget to attend."

"You should really try a human woman," Jungkook redirected, biting his lip and hissing as his bottomed-out cock twitched inside of you. You whimpered, unable to help the flush of arousal at the thought of her joining, memories of the others flooding your head for a few moments. You wrapped your legs around Jungkook's hips, pulling him tighter against you as he chuckled.

"I have humans," she replied, eyes running up and down your sweaty body and stopping for a few seconds too long on your breasts. "I find myself more inclined for the men of the species."

"Your loss," he grunted, grabbing your hips and yanking you harder towards him, picking up his brutal pace again and filling the air with the sounds of your skin slapping together. "Close the door."

You watched her nod her head towards him slightly before she retreated, pulling the door shut behind her. You could feel the orgasm building inside of you as he continued his movements, all your thoughts and words scrambled in your head.

"That's it, sweetmeat," he cooed, hissing as he rushed his pace. "Come all over me."

You moaned loudly at his command and felt complied to respond with your body, the pleasure tightening in your belly first as your orgasm hit you like a wave, shockwaves throbbing through your body as he continued to thrust into you through it.

"Jungkook," you panted, tightening your legs around his hips and fisting the sheets in your fingers as you winced. "It hurts—"

"Take it, human," he said blankly, his eyes focused on yours intently. You bit your bottom lip and shivered, trying to move your hips along to his bruising pace. "You're so good for me," he purred, leaning down as he stilled inside of you so that he could lick into your mouth lewdly. You could feel his cock twitch before he came, spurting his seed deep inside of you.

"Jungkook," you whimpered, arching your back, arousal swirling in your belly at the feeling of him releasing.

He shushed you as he rode out his orgasm, keeping himself flush against you even as he began to soften and his come started to slip out of you and down your thighs to the bed. As you kissed him back, licking back into his mouth and running your fingers through his dark hair and touching his horns lightly, causing him to growl against your lips, you couldn't help but remember the faerie that had stopped by.

"You're married," you whispered against his lips.

He pulled back just enough to look at you and a razor sharp smile was present on his mouth. "Yes," he said. "The High King must be wed for the future of Faerie." When you didn't say anything, pondering his words to you earlier, he continued as his finger began to trace your cheek. "Did you think I would marry you, sweetmeat?"

Your cheeks flushed. "No."

Jungkook laughed loudly and then pressed a harsh kiss to your pouting lips. "Humans are so fascinating when they lie," he finished, and you could feel him getting hard again inside of you. You squirmed underneath him as he kept you pinned down, a gleeful glint in his eyes as he watched you.

"Again, Jungkook?" you whined, though you were already clenching around him and rocking your hips up into him, your body begging him to start moving again.

He hummed and grinded against you slowly, enjoying the sounds your sticky bodies made with every movement. His hand came to grip your face and he held you still, pulling his cock out halfway and then sliding back in slowly. "I will keep you here, bred and ready for me for eternity," he said roughly, the head of his cock brushing against your g-spot again and making you mewl. He took the opportunity to lick into your open mouth.

When he released you, you sighed against his lips and pressed your thighs against the bed to allow him in deeper. "For eternity," you promised.

Jungkook's hips bucked into you and started another brutal pace, filling the room with your moans for the rest of the night.

"Soobin!" you called, running your hand down your belly bump and feeling the fabric of your dress, like silk, cool against your palm. Each of your fingers was adorned in rings, some metal and some vine. "Bring your brother and sister from the trees."

Your oldest son rolled his eyes, his horns curled backwards and ears almost as long as Jungkook's. He was taller than you now, his growth spurt hitting him years prior, and you couldn't help but smile at him sweetly as you made your way to the long table. Jungkook was seated at the head of the table, your family feasting inside the castle on a rare occasion. His wife was seated to his right and you made your way to his left, huffing as you struggled to sit comfortably.

Jungkook's smile to you was as sweet as it could be. "They should be content to play," he started, but you tutted at him and leaned back in the chair.

"I want them to have some connection to human manners," you replied easily, already used to having the same conversation every time you ate inside.

"I think it's good for them," Hana said, interjecting for once into the conversation.

You nodded your head at her, gesturing. "See?"

Jungkook sighed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms across his chest. "Yes, yes, go ahead and gang up on me."

"Daddy!" your daughter called out loudly, the rushed footsteps of her and her siblings filling the hall as they ran over to the table. Jungkook immediately opened his arms and let her jump into his lap, running his hand down her long dark hair. "Minnie hit me!"

Jungkook hummed, looking over at his two sons as they took their seats beside you, Soobin first. "And what did you do back?"

Ha Yoon smiled wickedly. "I bit him."

Jungkook and Hana laughed. He let her down from his lap, patting the top of her head. She bounced over to you, pulling on the tips of your hair the same way she used to as a baby. You lowered your head as much as you could and then winced when she nipped at your cheek with her sharp teeth. She giggled when you returned it with a kiss to her head and then rushed over to sit beside her brother.

"Soobin," Jungkook started as the servants, a mix of faeries and humans alike, began to place the food on the table and into your plates. "Have you thought about Hana's proposition?"

Soobin perked up, though your body tensed. Jungkook's eyes cut to you for a brief second, noticing your reaction, before he returned his gaze to your son.

"Yes," he replied, his voice much deeper than it had been when you'd returned to Faerie. "I'd like to go."

You bit the inside of your cheek and shoveled a spoonful of food into your mouth, now used to the wonderfully rich tastes this world had to offer you.

"Wonderful!" Jungkook said, smiling widely. "The carriages leave tomorrow for the Court. You'll go with them."

"My brother will teach you well," Hana said, smiling at Soobin sweetly. She had been like a second mother to him all these years, so you understood that your anxiety was rooted in nothing but jealousy and a wish to keep your children near you. "Oh, and Jungkook," she continued, turning her attention to her husband while you fussed over Soobin and Minhyuk.

"Yes, Wife?" he hummed, making a face at his daughter, who looked the most like him out of the three children.

"I'm pregnant," she giggled.

Jungkook's ears twitched and he turned to her quickly, all sounds quieting in the hall. "You are?"

"Yes."

"That's wonderful, Wife," he said smoothly, reaching over and holding her hand in his. You eyed their intertwined fingers and rings with a rush of jealousy, but the anxiety in your chest worsened. "Faerie will be full of my children's laughter."

They looked over at you expectantly. "Congratulations, Hana," you gulped, smiling as wide as you could to mask your fears.

She smiled tightly back at you, her eyes darting down to your own pregnant belly. "Thank you," she said.

Jungkook reached over and took your hand in his so that he was holding both of your hands. "We will celebrate and have a feast tomorrow with the courts," he said. He squeezed your hand and then released Hana's first, using his now free hand to pat your arm before he let go.

"So we're going to have another brother?" Minhyuk asked, speaking for the first time since he sat down. Your middle son was rather quiet and looked more like you than his father, though you didn't think Jungkook minded. He spoiled them all the same.

"Or sister," Hana told him, her face back to the usual stoic expression that everyone was familiar with.

"And it'll be two of them," you told him. Minhyuk tilted his head and then went back to his food, shoveling it in ravenously.

"And there will still be time for more," Jungkook said wickedly. "From both of you." His foot bumped into yours and you looked up at him through your lashes, arousal swirling between your legs when he winked at you and reached over to rest his hand on your thigh. Hana gasped and you looked over to her, watching how her cheeks flushed pink and you could see that Jungkook's other hand was below the table in her direction as well.

He released both of you again and continued his food, the children chatting with each other and him, mostly, excited to have their father's attention since most of his morning and afternoon had been spent in his office and among his advisors.

Once the children were done with their food, they excused themselves from the table and went to go continue playing. Soobin decided to go off on his own from his siblings, but you still had no idea where he went on nights like these; Jungkook always quelled your worries, telling you that he was at that age now where he should be left alone when he needed to be, instead of fretted over.

Jungkook gestured for you with his hands and you rose from your chair, moving over to stand in front of him. He placed his hands on your belly, eyes devouring you in a way that made you want to push your thighs together for relief. He smirked.

"Have they told you what it is yet?" he asked.

"No," you replied quietly, glancing over at Hana. "They say it'll be another boy."

"Faeries and their theories," he sighed, though his tone was fond. "We'll be visiting the Unseelie Court in a few days," he continued.

"Me as well?" you asked, confused. Usually him and his wife went, but you stayed here.

"Yes," he said. "Hana will be going with Soobin. You will come with me."

You bit your lip as his hands started to travel down your dress, using his fingers to pull the fabric up higher and higher, pulling you closer to his lap as he did so. Even after all these years, he was still insatiable.

"I will go prepare and find Soobin," she interrupted, standing up and dragging your attention away from Jungkook.

He stopped her for a brief second, though his hands continued their work until your dress was lifted enough for him to slide his fingers along your unclothed folds, gathering the slick of your arousal on them before he pushed two inside at once, making you whimper as you leaned back on the table.

"Be ready for me tonight, Wife," he told her. She nodded her head.

Then she took a few steps forward, leaning down and pressing her lips to yours. You gasped into her mouth, letting her tongue press against yours as Jungkook snickered from below you, continuing to work his fingers in and out of you. Hana pulled away with an obscene pop of her mouth, biting down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and make you hiss, clenching around Jungkook's fingers.

"I will be," she told him after, leaning down and kissing him harshly. He groaned and rubbed his thumb against your clit with every lick of her tongue against his. Then she pulled away and left the hall, you suspected to her own quarters.

Jungkook pulled his fingers from you and put them in his mouth, licking your slick off while he maintained eye contact with you. He let go of your dress, letting it drop back down to cover your legs, and stood from his chair, walking past the table and looking back at you.

"Come, sweetmeat," he commanded you. Rushing forward as fast as you could in your condition, you slipped your hand into his and allowed him to lead you out into the hall. Jungkook took the opposite turn from the hall leading to his bedroom, instead leading you towards the doors that led into the massive back gardens of the castle, one of your favorite places. You could feel your cheeks flushing with excitement already, knowing he was going to splay you out for anyone wandering the garden to see.

Your packed suitcase was ready beside you, but you ignored it and spent your time fixing Soobin's shirt collar and patting down his hair. He shook his head around, huffing as you fussed over him.

"Mom, I'm not going to be gone so long," he protested, though his voice was soft. You frowned, letting your fingers run through his dark hair one last time before you lowered your hand.

Hana flicked his nose lightly, earning a noise of complaint from the now young adult. "A mother worries, Binnie," she chided him. You smiled lightly when he lowered his head, mumbling an apology to you at her words. He held your hand lightly and pressed a kiss to the back.

"My sweet boy," you said almost tearfully, bringing him in for a hug even though he stood much taller than you. He wiggled uncomfortably, trying not to press too hard against your belly as he returned the hug. "Be safe."

He pulled back with a large smile. "You, as well."

Jungkook arrived, pressing a hand to the small of your back to nudge you forward. "Let us go, sweetmeat," he told you, still using his favorite nickname of yours after so many years. "Yeon will care for the children while we are away."

You looked back, waving to your other two children, who were still so young they couldn't care any less about all of them leaving for about a week's time. "Take care of him, Hana," you said quietly, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze.

She smiled pleasantly. "As I always have," she replied, returning your squeeze.

Jungkook ruffled Soobin's hair. "Do give them some trouble," he said wickedly, sharing a similar smile of mischief with his oldest son. He leaned over and pressed a long kiss to his wife's mouth, sliding his hand to the back of her neck to keep her close while Soobin started to put their bags in their carriage. When he pulled away, her lips were plump and red from his.

You waved to them as they got in and the drivers led them away, your own carriage pulling up to the front and the servants opening the door. Jungkook easily tossed the suitcases in and then helped you up, always more caring and careful when you were carrying his children. He slid into the seat beside you, never preferring to be across from you like in the shows you had always seen, even if sitting beside each other was more cramped.

"Do not worry, human," Jungkook told you blandly, not even looking out of the window as the carriage started to move, taking you away from the place you had become so familiar with. "We will only be visiting a few days and then we will be back with our children."

You couldn't help but take his hand in yours, thankful he simply opened his palm and let you intertwine your fingers together. "I know," you said, leaning over and resting your head on his shoulder.

As the carriage continued on, you dragged your free hand down your belly nervously, hoping that all your fears concerning the courts were unwarranted and simply human anxieties.

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emry-stars-art · 8 months ago

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@halfpintpeach and her GORGEOUS faerie au!! Faerie has so many of my favorite themes and aesthetics all rolled into one 💕

So here's Andrew with his little vines of Faerie and Neil with his wings :)

#i dont remember if i ever posted the traditional version of this its pretty old #but yeah i loveeeeeee them sm #obviously. by how much i am thinking about them lmao #fan art #my art #aftg #all for the game #others aus #faerie au #neil josten #andrew minyard #chibi #digital

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skzdarlings · 2 months ago

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the fifteenth heir ; faerie prince au ; jeongin/reader ; part one

masterlist.

When you save the life of an injured wolf, you are not expecting him to turn into a prince and save you in return. Of course, as it turns out, fairy tales are not that simple. - A prequel to The Same But Different: The story of how Prince Jeongin overpowered his fourteen older brothers to take the throne of the summer court.

part one | chapters tba | ao3 link.

pairing: yang jeongin/reader content info: set in the faerie prince universe, the prequel to the same but different. faerie/human romance. strangers to lovers. eventual sexual content.

content warnings: please heed the following trigger warnings and read at your own discretion. this story is predominately a romance but classified under horror as well. there will be gruesome scenes, images, and threatening scenarios. this chapter features murder, isolation, mentions of human cannibalism, neglect, suicidal thoughts, explicit violence, and dark fantasy elements.

chapter word count: 7000 words.

enjoy <3

Absolute silence surrounds the house. In daylight, pests are lured closer by the meaty red stench of blood. At nightfall, every lowly thing knows to keep away from the yawning maw of that front door. Even animals understand a chasm, this black hole that swallows life and belches bones back into the woods.

You wake behind the eyes of the monster, curled up in your cot by the attic window. Even the slightest noise wakes you, the smallest disturbed pebble a thunderous exclamation in the silence.

Your eyes adjust to the moonlight darkness. You scan the yard.

Leave, you think, pleading with everything and nothing. You beg whatever is out there to get away before it gets hurt.

It’s been a week since your father’s last hunt and his hunger is going to get the better of him – and you are a selfish little girl in a terrified woman’s body and you don’t want to hear another murder.

Silence is absolute until it is not. It always ends with a scream.

Your own shriek is strangled in the sleepy rasp of your voice, startled by a shape emerging from the thrush of the woods. Your racing heart patters as the shadow takes shape in the moonlight.

Oh, it’s a stag.

Two - no, three of them.

It’s better than a person. Your father won’t be hungry for an animal this late in the week.

It’s still unsettling. Your father occasionally allows you into the woods to hunt for animals. You are not allowed to venture far and nothing intelligent approaches the house, so you never find anything more than rabbits and squirrels. If there are more animals out there, it is deep, deep in the miles of trees, well past where the footpaths fade and the branches start to tangle into a wall of impenetrable brambles.

You have never seen a stag before.

The first stag crosses the yard. It steps tentatively, as you suppose deer are wont. But there is something about the angle of its head, the curious, scrutinizing tilt as it looks at the house – like it’s really considering it, the way people might. The way people do, with a breath of relief.

Thank god, they always say. A house.

Our car broke down on the highway.

We were hiking and got lost.

There’s something about these woods.

We don’t know how we got here.

You don’t know how they get here either. Despite the repeated claim, there is no highway anywhere close. You have looked. There’s nothing but the house.

The stags cross the yard one by one, flicking their heads, their antlers waving in the dark. For a moment, the shadows look like long, spindly fingers, stretching up and up as if taunting you with a friendly wave. Hello, they say, we’re out here and you’re in there. Can you see us too?

Then the porch lights wash yellow over the blue night. Your father steps onto the porch. He always answers the door, just like you are always in the attic.

The stags run, though it seems more jaunty than afraid, a bouncing trot back into the woods. Your father hollers after them, enraged his hunger was piqued only to find no satisfaction.

You lay back down and close your eyes. This screaming is preferable to the usual kind, but it is still screaming.

And it always ends with a scream.

You are sitting by the window, legs curled up and arms around your knees. You watch the yard, the flies zipping here and there in the daylight. You have been watching for hours, wondering if the stags will come back. They seem like an impossible dream in the light of day. Try as you might, you cannot picture them in the yard. They just don’t belong there. Nothing does. It makes that murky dream feel like a nightmare.

Your watching is interrupted by a creaking on the stairs. Your father is coming up to the attic.

You jump out of bed, dressed in your too-small shorts and too-big shirt, like always, and you fetch the key under your cot, like always, and you are waiting at the closed door when he arrives, like always.

Even though you can hear each other breathing, he still knocks at the door. A semblance of politeness. Knocking, like he is protecting your privacy. Knocking, like you can’t hear him hacking his way through human bodies, like you can’t hear the mess, like you don’t know where the meat goes.

He knocks, like always.

You slide the key under the door so he can unlock it. It’s a type of understanding, isn’t it? You can’t leave without his permission. He can’t reach you without yours.

The door opens.

He is holding a hunting knife. It should scare you. He has used it against you before, the one and only time you tried to run away. He let you out to hunt and you ran for that elusive highway. Ran, got lost, got scared, got found. He cut at your legs, not to sever or maim, but in a frantic, desperate kind of threat. That he would. That he would do a lot.

But there are things he won’t do. He won’t make you eat the remains of his human catches. He hands you the knife and says, “Go.”

“Do you want something too?” you ask like you don’t know the answer.

“No,” he says, with no further explanation for what he intends to hunt and eat.

You take the knife.

It’s a cool day. You think it must be autumn but the deeper you sink into the woods, the warmer it gets. The gentle breath of the autumnal breeze vanishes as you leave range of the house. The sun brightens while the shade thickens, the forest a starker and starker contrast of light and dark. You keep to the shade because it is sweltering in the sun with no breeze.

It feels strange to do something like that. Does a moment of comfort really matter? Your legs are scarred, the woods are hot, and the house is always waiting. Does a minute of shade really matter?

Resigned, you trudge through the woods in your bare feet, stepping into patches of hot sunlight. The knife dangles in your loose grip. You hardly feel the path under your feet.

A sound bleeds into the quiet nothing. You ignore it even though it could be a catch. That’s why you’re out here, isn’t it? To find food? A rabbit, a squirrel. There are no stags. You were dreaming. There is nothing. Nothing but the house, right?

Nothing but this, like always.

You stop. Your grip tightens around the knife. Every part of you throbs like it is begging to be pierced. Maybe it will wake you out of this nightmare. Maybe it will set you free. Maybe you just want the house to spit your bones into the woods. At least you’d never have to go back in.

You hear it again. It is not the skitter of an animal or a human scream or any sound you know.

Crying, you realize. It’s the whining wail of a hurt thing, more despondent than afraid. It pierces those vulnerable places faster than a knife. A new ache replaces it.

You follow the sound. It sadness is so persuasive that you begin to cry as well.

You stumble towards some trees, their branches low and tangled. You swing at them with the knife like it’s a machete. You need to get through. You don’t know why.

It must be an animal on the other side. It could be hurt or it could hurt you. It could be one of the stags. Somehow, you know it’s not, thinking of those taunting antlers. They couldn’t make a sound like this.

The branches cave with a shatter, all at once as if tired of fighting. You stumble into an alcove, a little shelter among the trees.

In the middle of it, curled up and crying, is a wolf.

A wolf?

Its fur is a solid midnight black, darker than the shadows around it. Its big body is irrefutably canine but the face is not wolf-like.

A fox, you think, though the proportions are all wrong. Foxes are not this big and overwhelming.

You don’t dwell on it because this fox-wolf is hurt. In the obsidian darkness of its coat, you almost miss the streaks of blood, the open cuts just barely visible.

You drop the knife. The fox-wolf watches it fall, its whine gone silent in your presence. Its black eyes are steady. It looks at the knife then at you. There is a horrible sadness in its gaze, a miserable resignation to the droop of its head.

You know this feeling well.

“Did he do this to you?” you ask, as if you expect an answer. It is not more unusual than speaking to yourself.

The fox-wolf whines, a sad, imploring beg. Its gaze goes to the knife.

“I’m not like him,” you say. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Even as you say it, you are not sure your father is responsible for this. It’s not his nature. For all his abominable offences, your father does not hunt for sport. He slaughters indiscriminately but it is always purposefully. Animals, early in the week, brought back skinned and ready for cooking. Humans, later, when he changes, when he starts sweating under some invisible heat source and nothing else satisfies him.

That is when you go to the attic and let the door lock behind you. You know he’s still your father when you can hear him breathing on the other side. When the hunger possesses him, he is a screaming, mindless thing, throwing himself at that fortified door, clawing it up like an animal before leaving to hunt easier prey.

He has managed to avoid that state for a while, no longer waiting for the arrival of a meal but seeking it out in advance. Preventative measures became necessary over time. The length of his satisfaction keeps shrinking. He used to last months, then one month. Now it is a week before he hunts again.

He is hunting tonight so the hunger has not yet taken over. He did not mindlessly attack this animal. If he deliberately targeted this fox-wolf, he would have brought it back as meat for you.

You approach the animal, tentative but not as wary as you should be. It has big teeth: visible, sharp incisors when it opens its mouth. It would keep away any sane person with a reasonable fear of suffering. But a bite is not different than a walk in the hot sun.

You kneel beside the animal. You touch it carefully, parting the bloody fur and exposing the wound beneath. It is not the work of a knife. It’s a gash near the neck, an attack as wild as it was intentional.

Blinking, you recall those antlers in the dark.

“Did the stags do this?” you ask gently.

The fox-wolf whines. It sound affirmative, even though that’s impossible.

The greatest impossibility is the sudden pang in your heart. You thought it had already turned to dust. A small, broken shard beats for this hurt creature.

“Poor foxy,” you say.

You kiss the crown of the fox-wolf’s head. It emits a whimper. It rests its head in your lap.

It has been so long since you kissed anything. You kissed your parents a long time ago. Long before they disappeared on a walk in the woods, when your father came back alone and unnaturally hungry no matter how much your then-teenage self cooked and cooked and cooked.

There was one final kiss you gave each of them, but you don’t remember it now. It would have been inconsequential at the time, taken for granted there would be many more.

You will remember this one. Giving affection to another living thing is as important as receiving it. You were affectionate, once, you think.

For a time, you sit in the alcove, tucked away from the world and the woods. You stroke the fox-wolf’s head from the crown to the neck, then back up. You drag your pinky down its snout and its eyes close like a person lulled to sleep.

The fox-wolf stirs first. It lifts its head and looks at the knife. When it looks at you with those glossy black eyes, you understand.

“No,” you say without hesitation. Terrible sadness cloys in your throat. “I know it hurts, but you’re not going to die. I won’t hurt you. Don’t ask me that.”

You don’t question its seeming understanding. You know it’s still impossible, but you cling to that connection. You imagine it sees your own scars and the obvious exhaustion of your weary body. You imagine it recognizes the droop of your head. You imagine a broken part of its animal heart beats for you too.

“You’re not going to die like this, okay?” Your voice is small and rough. A tear slides right off your cheek and onto the fox-wolf. Despite your efforts, the tears keep coming, plinking along the fox-wolf’s scars like raindrops. You brush the creature with careful fingers.

“You’ll be okay,” you say. “I promise.”

You use the knife to cut a strip of fabric from the bottom of your t-shirt.

“This is the only shirt that fits me, you know,” you say, talking to keep the animal calm while you wipe its wounds clean. “It was big when I got it. We were just coming to the house for the summer. I was thirteen. I didn’t even want to go but Mama said it would be good to get out of the city for a couple weeks. It’s been longer than that now, you see. A lot longer. I’m all grown up. And Mama’s gone. It’s just me and Daddy and the House. This isn’t a good place, but you know that. The forest did something to him and now he gets hungry. He's not my Daddy when that happens. He’s just hunger. And when he’s not hungry anymore, it’s like he wakes up, and then he’s a mess, like he sees all the blood for the first time. The worst part? I think it’s all because of me.”

You never say this out loud, not even to yourself in the quiet nothing. You say it now because it’s the reason you rip your last shirt and bandage the hurt animal.

You have to save something because of how much has died to save you.

“He doesn’t want me to run away, to get too far in the woods,” you say. “I think he’s scared that what got him and Mama will get me. And whatever it is, it’s worse than this. Whatever it is, it makes the house safe in comparison. He’d rather keep getting hungry and kill all those people than risk the forest getting me.”

You kiss the fox-wolf’s head when it whimpers.

“I want to save you, foxy,” you say. “Because he only stays alive to keep me alive. He hunts so he won’t hurt me. All the horror, all the bodies, all the death… it’s to keep me alive. Trapped, but alive. And it’s not any kind of life worth protecting, but that’s what a daddy does, I guess. I’m all he has left to protect. I don’t think he’ll die until I do. Maybe I should. Maybe I should let this all end.”

The fox-wolf whines again but not from pain, lifting its head to turn those solemn eyes onto yours.

“I know,” you whisper, scratching behind its ears. “I guess we never know why things happen the way they do. Maybe I was meant to be here so I could find you and help you. Let’s make a bargain.”

Steady black eyes gaze up at you.

“I saved your life,” you say. “And maybe that was the purpose of mine. So you have to use it. You can’t lay down and die in these woods. You have to be okay. Then you have to go back where you belong and you have to keep using the life I gave you. Okay?”

You curl around the fox-wolf. You hide your tears in its fur, uselessly because it can feel your shoulders shake.

“I think I’ll be okay for a little longer,” you say. “Until it gets me – the forest, or the hunger, or him. But I’ll be okay if I know you’re alive, all right? You’re the first real thing I’ve seen in years. I forgot the world could make such beautiful things. If I can think about you free somewhere outside of the woods, it will make me happy, foxy. Please be alive for me.”

The fox-wolf curls around you too, twining in a big coil of wolven bulk and fur.

“Thank you,” you say.

You lay there for another moment, until the sun has shifted in the sky and the shadows fall differently. The hot light touches the border of the alcove. By then, your tears have stopped.

You sit up and wipe your wet face. You take a breath and the fox-wolf watches.

“I have to go now,” you say. “Be careful, foxy.”

You kiss its head once more.

Then, because you never take a kiss or word for granted anymore, you say, “I love you.”

Because you do, because all the love you had for the world and your family is somewhere inside you still. It needs somewhere to go. It feels right, giving it to this sad creature that needs more life.

“Take care,” you say.

It does not whimper or whine. It watches with those steady eyes as you take the knife and leave the alcove in your too-small shorts and ripped-up shirt, the only thing left that’s yours as you leave your love and hope behind.

Your father usually hunts through the night. You don’t know where he goes and you don’t what the path is like. You just know that he doesn’t trust to send you down it even though you could get away once and for all. You suppose it’s not hard to believe the path would be laden with monsters. After all, he must be one of them.

The house is empty. You go inside with a bundle of berries cupped in the remains of your shirt. The front door swings behind you. It doesn’t lock because nothing approaches it willingly. If it does, it won’t last long.

You go to the attic. It’s the only locking door. It traps you, like always.

You put the berries on the bed and the knife under the bed beside the key. Your shirt is now a sticky, juice-spattered mess, cut at the belly, but it doesn’t really matter. You sit on the bed and eat your berries one by one, watching the yard.

You fall asleep at some point. You wake hours later in your cot, long after the sun has set and the gloaming is gone.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dark. You peer through the attic window across the moonlit yard, looking for the disturbance that woke you. It might be your father. He is due back. Sometimes he kills his catch on the way but sometimes he waits until he’s at the house. The body ends up over the fire in what used to be a cozy sitting room.

You don’t go there. You don’t need to see when you can hear and smell.

You hear a clatter on the porch. He must have reached the house before your eyes adjusted. The automatic porch lights flip on, that wash of yellow over the dark yard.

It illuminates something on the border between the yard and the woods. It’s another stag, tall and broad with spindly antlers. You can just barely see the shadow of more stags behind it. It’s hard to count them, antlers blending into branches.

The first stag steps forward. Your head tilts as you watch, bemused by its awkward step. Is it hurt? It seems to crick and creak as it moves. You imagine a pop as it lumbers forward.

Then it rears up. It lifts its head.

No. No, it doesn’t.

Its neck is craning, its torso elongating. It lengthens and pops and rises until it looks halfway like a person in the yard, hunched with too-long arms dangling down the length of a tall body. It still has antlers.

You fall back in a panicked jump when the front door opens and closes. For a moment, it’s you that feels like an animal, skittering frantically on all fours. You climb onto the cot and peek out the window. More antlered half-human figures are in the yard, watching the house. The yellow porch light glints in the eyes of the closest one, human-shaped but flashing bright with a heated anger.

It looks at the door. Then it looks at you.

You drop down, not making a noise, too scared to even scream.

There are footsteps on the stairs. It’s welcome for once. You have a monstrous thing of your own. Your father has returned from his hunt. Maybe he killed and ate it on the way. He’s coming to see you and he will be clear-eyed and horrified but maybe, maybe, maybe you can find your father in that pain. He will comfort you and tell you monsters aren’t real, like he did when you were young, when your father was the most indomitable force in the world. He could keep out any monster.

You grab the key and dash for the door. You wait for the breathing, the gentle cadence. Yours come rapidly.

You slide the key under the door and it scrapes the ground, like always, then it’s inserted into the lock, like always. The mechanical unclick. Like always.

But it doesn’t open like always. You stare at the door, breathing louder than any scream. You push it open. Your eyes are raised to look at your father, but he’s not there.

Your gaze drops.

“Foxy?”

You don’t understand the sight. This is irrevocably the fox-wolf, the very same one, still bandaged in your t-shirt scraps, still with those steady black eyes. It’s sitting on its haunches, gazing up at you. The key is on the floor beside a small covered basket.

You take a tentative step to look around. The house is empty. Your father has not returned.

The fox-wolf, who somehow unlocked your door, accepts your unintentional invitation and trots into your room. You watch as it sniffs around then waits patiently beside the cot.

You pick up the key and the basket, at a loss to do anything else. You close the door and it locks behind you. You don’t know how you are going to hide a wolf from your father, but right now you don’t care. Its presence is an immediate and thorough balm. You rush to the cot and take a seat. A peek out the window shows the yard is now empty.

“You scared them away, foxy,” you say, rubbing its head. Its tail thumps happily, its eyes scrunching with pleasure. It has an almost-human smile. You kiss its head. “I think you’re a sweetie,” you say. “The woods are full of scary things. We sweeties have to stick together.”

You place the key under your bed and the basket on your pillow. The fox-wolf nudges it with its nose, whining eagerly. Its tail continues to hammer with excitement.

You smile. It’s probably an ugly smile, unpracticed and strange, but the smallest uptick of that unused muscle fills you with unparalleled delight. You didn’t even know you could still feel that way.

“Is this for me?” you ask.

The fox-wolf watches with that squinty-eyed grin. Your smile returns, still an awkward flicker on your long unsmiling face, but true.

You uncover the basket. You are truly shocked at what you find.

As much as the monsters scare you, they are not unusual. You are used to the woods and the horror. You are not used to smiling and you are not prepared for a basket full of baked goods.

When did you last see such a thing? It feels like a memory of a story, fantasies of someone else’s life. The basket is filled with rolls of pastries sprinkled with powdery sugar, leaking purple berry and yellow custard. Dark sugar sprinkles, a spicy scent – cinnamon, you think. You remember. Was it your favourite? Maybe it will be now.

You don’t know where to start or what to say or do. You look at the basket of sweet sugar wealth, overwhelmed. The scents are so sweet that it’s almost sickening, your near empty stomach roiling. Your smile quivers and breaks and then you are crying with hysterical abandon.

The fox-wolf whines with concern, its front paws up on the cot as it stretches to check on you. You wipe your eyes and try to speak, though it takes some time to sound coherent through the gasping.

“I’m sorry, foxy,” you say. You are even more distressed to find those black eyes glassy with sympathy. “I promise I’m happy,” you say. “I just don’t know how to be. I’m sorry. I promise I feel it inside.”

It continues to look at you with concern, its short ears wilting. You rub the top of its head affectionately and try to smile again. It feels toothy, like an aggressive snarl more than a smile, but it’s not afraid.

You look at the pastries again. You truly don’t know what to do next. As much as the fox-wolf seems to understand you, it can hardly communicate, so you can’t ask where it found so much luxury in the woods. It makes you think your father might be close, that the fox-wolf found this treasure abandoned by unlucky humans.

You feel guilty, but the pastries are so tempting. There is something especially wondrous about them. Maybe because it’s been so long. The longer you look, the more your mouth waters, and the more it looks like something from a dream.

You lift a pastry, feeling a combination of hunger and nausea. You haven’t eaten anything like this in years and you are scared your body will reject it. You still crave it. You didn’t even realize you wanted it all this time. You didn’t realize you were capable of wanting anything ever again.

You take a small bite. The pastry is delicate. It flakes and melts on your tongue, the sweet sugar leaving a powdery residue on your lips. You lick it off. It’s so sweet but so soft that you cry again.

“It’s perfect, foxy,” you say.

The fox-wolf still looks morose, one ear perked to gauge the slightest negative shift in your tone.

Your smiles are not reassuring, so you extend a gesture instead. You break a piece of the pastry and offer it.

“Please,” you say. “Share with me. It tastes even better that way.”

It tickles when the fox-wolf licks the pastry off your fingers. If a smile felt strange, laughter feels bizarre, an awkward guffaw, subsumed in the gasp of your tears.

You eat a few more bites, sharing with the fox-wolf. Then you cover the basket and put it under the bed. You pace yourself. You know you won’t keep down more than that. Your stomach is already rebelling under the onslaught of foreign sweetness.

There’s also a special pleasure in knowing it’s there. You don’t even want to finish the basket because then it will be gone forever.

You look at the fox-wolf. You know it will be gone soon too. It can’t stay here. It’s not safe. Even at his best, your father will see a beast fit for food. He won’t care about the intelligence in those dark eyes.

For now, the house is empty and the basket is full. You rub the fox-wolf’s head. Its tail thumps again. You smile a smile you thought you had lost.

“Come on, foxy,” you say. You make room on the cot.

The fox-wolf jumps. It turns in a small circle near the foot then settles. It rests its chin on your knees.

You stroke your pinky down its snout as it blinks with sleepy contentment.

For the first time in a long time – since a life that no longer feels like yours – you lay down to sleep with a smile on your face.

You usually sleep lightly, disturbed by the smallest noise as it breaks the silence, but the silence is not absolute tonight. The fox-wolf breathes and the gentle cadence of its slumbering breath is like a lullaby.

It’s the deepest sleep of your life. You hardly ever dream in your light dozes but it comes in vivid colour tonight. Swirls of monsters, antlers, and hunting knives. Also sugar, cinnamon, black fur and dark eyes squinting in an obvious smile. In your dream, those eyes change, the intelligent but animal gaze softening to something human. You dream of your attic room, a dream so vivid it almost feels real. You can feel the cot under you, the chill of the nearby window, the familiar moonlight.

But it isn’t real. It can’t be. The fox-wolf is gone. A young man sits on the end of the cot, gazing out the window into the woods. If this was real, you would petrified, but you feel that same peaceful calm, his company a comfort. Old hurts and present fears feel far away.

The young man looks at you. Moonlight and shadows dance across his features, but you think he is beautiful, with eyes so dark and focused, hair black and smooth. His cheekbones are sharp. His face is like a knife and yet –

And yet –

There is something unspeakably gentle about him. Not because he’s helpless, not because he’s dull, but in spite of all that danger and sharpness. He looks at you with an undoubtedly affectionate gaze, tilting his head as he holds your gaze.

You blink. You think you might be waking because you shiver, but you don’t want to wake. You want to stay right here with him. You have been wanting him before you knew you could. You want to look at those eyes forever. You want to feel this safe always.

He moves, swift and soft as a shadow. A blink and you would miss it. He tugs the blanket back over your shoulder. Your eyes stray along the length of his bare arm, across his bare chest. The scraps of your t-shirt bandage a scar that runs along the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

Then you look at his hand, so close to your face. Any other hand and this dream would be a nightmare. But this is a good dream. You sigh contently as his long fingers gently brush the crown of your head. His fingertips trace your temple, carefully down your jaw. No one has ever been so gentle with you, not in a long time.

You sigh again. He softly sweeps his pinky down the bridge of your nose. Your sleep deepens. You sink into a perfect peace, undisturbed for the rest of the night.

The morning is another matter entirely. You wake in sunlight, more groggy than ever. It’s not the familiar pale light of early morning but the golden heat of noon. You haven’t slept for so long in years.

You feel the usual ache of sleeping on a rickety cot, something designed for weeks of use, not a decade.

You sit up. The fox-wolf is gone. There’s nowhere in the attic for it to hide, the space under the cot too small. You crouch on the floor and check anyway. The key is there, the knife beside it. The basket is there too.

The fox-wolf disappearing is an impossibility among many, but you know it was all very real. You uncover the basket to find the pastries as fresh and appetizing as last night, not even a little stale from sitting out all night.

You look around the empty room, sitting with the basket cradled protectively in your lap.

You don’t know what to do. You haven’t felt that way in a long time. Everyday has been the same, passed through a disassociated state of bland observation and slow breathing. This single disruption has uprooted everything. You feel the basket in your lap and you know you can’t spend another day sitting at the window.

The choice is made for you. There is a clamoring in the yard so you look out the window, not sure what to expect.

It is the most mundane of all creatures. Your father is dashing back to the house in a clumsy sprint.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. There is something wrong about the way he’s moving. There’s a stumbling desperation to every wide leap. He looks more like a stag than the stags did.

Did he come home last night? His hunt should be over. The hunger should be satisfied.

The front door swings and slams. You can hear his frantic thunder up the stairs, so much thudding he must be racing on all fours. You curl away instinctively, pressed up against the window, as far away from the door as possible.

He throws himself against it with a scream. You squeeze your eyes shut.

He’s still hungry. Maybe his hunt turned up nothing or maybe it didn’t satisfy him. You don’t know what happens now. Maybe he will eventually beat the door down. Maybe he will drive himself to death in his hysterics. If he dies, you’ll be trapped, sealed in here with that basket as it slowly empties. Eventually it will taunt you, like the stags, waving, mocking you caged in your glass like an animal –

You are getting hysterical too, even with your hands clamped over your ears to block out your father’s wailing. It’s not even just the fear. He’s your father, sometimes, somewhere in there. He used to make you laugh and tell you stories, lift you on his shoulders and tell you about the world. He used to scare away the monsters.

“Daddy,” you try, voice breaking on a childish cry. “Stop it. Please. Daddy, it’s me.”

You can’t find the strength to yell. You doubt he can hear your wobbling voice over his own screaming. The door shakes so hard that you imagine all the walls crumbling under the force of each slam.

You drift in the fantasy of it, of this whole house crumbling around you. There’s nothing to do but stare, silent, and wait to die. It’s a better end than you expected, a last meal, a good sleep, a sweet dream to send you off.

You close your eyes.

Something changes in the air. You don’t hear it or see it, but you feel it, a rush of warmth that fills the house. Gentle as a hand drawing a blanket over your shoulder. The sun brightens and heats the window at your back.

You lower your hands. It’s then you hear a piercing bark, almost a scream but not quite. Almost human, but not quite.

It can only be one thing. You whip around and watch as the fox-wolf careens through the yard, fast as a bullet. By the time you are on your feet, it’s already in the house and racing up the stairs.

“Back!” your father screams, the only coherent word out of his mouth.

You can hear them fighting. A body thumps down the stairs but the weight of it sounds too heavy to be your feral, emaciated father. He must have pushed the fox-wolf.

More than anything, that propels you into action. You made a bargain with that fox. You gave it a life. You’re not going to sit here and let your father take another life at the expense of yours.

You put the basket on your pillow. A part of you wants to eat the whole thing while you have the chance, die with a full stomach and a face powdered with sugar, but there’s no time. You reach under the cot and you grab the knife and the key.

Will he even have the clarity to use the key? You’re not sure, but you slide it under the door. There is clearly some intelligent thought churning in his mind, because he picks it up. He fumbles the lock while the fox-wolf stampedes back up the stairs.

The door explodes open. Your father and the fox-wolf crash inside, tangled in a violent fury. Your father yells at it, prying at its jaw to release its brutal clamp on his forearm. He is not stronger. The fox-wolf might have ripped his arm right off it you hadn’t cried out.

The fox-wolf releases your father so it can look at you. Your father kicks it in its distraction, sending it hurtling to the door with a yelp.

“Don’t hurt it!” you cry. “It’s already injured!”

Your father does not reply. When he looks at you, your heart stops. There is nothing of your father in his eyes, something vicious and lost staring back at you.

No. Not at you. He doesn’t see you anymore. He sees a clear path to prey and he takes it.

He charges you, too fast for you to react in your terror. The knife clatters to the floor as he tackles you and slams you onto your back.

Your body fights, an instinctive propulsion from something buried deep inside you. Under all that disassociation, all that resignation, there is a part of you that wants to live. It claws its way to freedom. You push your father, your adrenaline spurred by his. You scream with the same abandon.

The weight and smell of him abruptly disappears. The fox-wolf has clamped its jaws around his ankle. It drags him clear across the room where your father is left to scrabble against the floorboards.

Then the fox-wolf pounces on you. You don’t know what’s happening until you’re lifted, grabbed by the arms and hoisted onto your feet.

Except –

Foxes can’t grab. Wolves can’t stand.

It happens so fast. You are on your back, the ceiling overhead, then you are on your feet and the only thing you see is a pair of dark eyes.

Dark human eyes. You blink at a face, a familiar face, the face of the young man from your dreams. If he was beautiful in moonlight, he is devastating in sunlight. His hair is so black that it sparkles blue in the light, his features so sharp in contrast. He is like a drop of starlight.

The beautiful man grips you with two humans hands. He stands upright in a human body. You can’t look away from his human face, all those sharp and delicate angles. He is so beautiful that he hardly seems real. You would have been less surprised to see another monster.

His grip tightens. It wakes long slumbering parts of you.

“Foxy?” you say in a pathetically small and fragile voice.

Your father is back on his feet and the – the man? –

The fox-wolf-man –

He dives at your father and lands in canine form, those sharp incisors snapping at his face.

The knife is within your father’s reach. You see it but the fox does not. When your father grabs it, you jump, catching his arm before the knife can do any damage.

The three of you are locked in a messy tangle. Your father is bleeding from wolf bites and the animal is snarling. Everything feels wet. You can’t tell finger from claw, limb from wound, spit from blood.

You kick and scratch and bite like an animal, seeing nothing but red in the terror of your frantic adrenaline.

That part of you so desperate for life is at the surface. You feel your whole body for the first time in a long time. You feel the shattering pain when your father hits your head with his own and you spill back. He holds you down while grappling with the knife.

The whole thing is over in seconds. Your mind is flooded with every gory image of a tooth in a slab of meat. You don’t reach for the knife. Your father is close, his neck within reach, and the animal of your body rears with terrified instinct.

Do you mean to kill him? Do you want to kill him?

It doesn’t matter. You kill him anyway.

The skin breaks shockingly easily as you tear into his throat with your teeth. Blood spills out of him, pounding jugular and a bath of red.

You sputter and choke on it. You use a last burst of adrenaline to shove him off you. You are not sure how fast he dies. You don’t look, spitting up blood and retching.

You wipe your mouth, smearing more of the relentless red mess. You are on your hands and knees. You lift your head and open your eyes.

The fox-wolf is a man again. He is on his hands and knees as well, his face only inches from yours. He is staring like you are the wondrous anomaly, his mouth open with his shock.

You look at each other for a long moment. Then he smiles. He has deep dimples, frighteningly sweet next to the sharp inhuman incisors still visible in his mouth. Like your own crooked snarl of a smile, it is not a pretty grin so much as it is big. And like your broken smile, you can see he means it truly affectionately.

You can’t speak with the blood on your mouth. You try but you sputter.

He reaches for you. He gathers a red wet smear on his fingers, gently wiping your lips. It wracks your whole body with a shiver, the shock of violent residue, the shock of being touched.

You finally take a clean breath. He looks at the blood on his fingers.

He flashes you that sharp, dimpled smile again.

“Wow,” he says with a wheezing laugh.

You can’t even think about asking what’s so funny. The last drop of adrenaline bleeds out of you. The floorboards rush to meet you as your arms and legs buckle.

Your body surrenders your mind to blackness.

#yang jeongin x reader #jeongin x reader #i.n. x reader #stray kids x reader #skx x reader #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfiction #jeongin x you #yang jeongin x you #stray kids x you #skz x you #faerie au

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emmster · 1 month ago

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Doing some uhh 👀

#Ghoap #simon and johnny #fairy au #fae!au #dark faerie #dark fae #light fae #light faerie #faerie Au #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley mw2 #john soap mactavish #cod Au #call of duty fanart #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x johnny soap mactavish #my art

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ginnungagay · 4 months ago

Note

Its our special guy’s special day today, prank-free as a gift

everybody be super duper quiet!!! he's still resting!!!

#asks #had too much going on day-of to make him anything but #happy birthday kaveh #also hello everyone my partner and i have a faerie AU going and i love it very much #faerie AU #genshin impact #genshin kaveh #g/t

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howtodrawyourdragon · 6 months ago

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I did it. I colored it. I'm happy with it. :)

-XOXOX-

Please do not repost or misuse my art in any way.

#important info: the back hole is both for his wings and where he puts his tunic on #httyd fanart #httyd movies #rtte #race to the edge #au #alternate universe #fairy au #faery au #faerie au #hiccup haddock #fairy!hiccup #toothless #hicctooth #my art

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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year ago

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Feels Like Sin

Summary: This isn't the life that you thought you would live, but Jax isn't going to let you go. You belong to him. ONLY him.

Pairings: Fae!Jax Teller X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, kidnapping, chasing, a form of drugging, dub con, dry humping, voyeurism, unprotected sex, mentions of overstimulation, spanking, creampie, humiliation, obsession, secrets and lies, self mutilation (Jax), 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.2K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

You dig a small hole in the dank bag. You need air. Sunlight. And a way to process your fears of what was happening to you. Looking through the pathetic hole to see yourself moving in the wrong direction. Faeries of the Spring Court never ventured here.

Branches turn into gnarly thorns, and you squeak in fear. Kicking your leg on the back of the ogre that stuffed you in here. “Easy does it, you pipsqueak. The king will love you.”

“No!” You start to blubber. Where was your king? Steve would protect you. Or would he? Even he didn’t come into the Dark Court. He only saw the king when there was a meeting of sorts. So you were told. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Suck my cock then,” his laugh bellows out before he drops you and the bag on the forest floor. You peek your head out, gasping for fresh air, but it is too damp. Fog hangs over in the forest, making it impossible to see five feet in front of you.

“Well go on, tiny,” his chubby little hands start to reach into his pants, and you slam your hands over your eyes, shaking your head no. “What’s wrong? You telling me you never had the shiny king’s cock in your little holes?”

“No, Steve never asks us to do that. Steve is kind, he isn’t like you!”

“Oh, bullshit. You are the most frivolous of the courts. All you do is fuck,” of all the lies in Collingswood, you had never done anything of the sort.

“That’s summer,” you sniffle, still refusing to look at him. You could feel his warm breath too close to you, and you try to shuffle away from him, but his sweaty hand holds tightly to your foot. “Steve doesn’t…he wouldn’t,” his finger tries to push your hand off your eyes, but you keep them covered. “No! I don’t want to look at your disgusting penis!”

“You’d rather be eaten by the Dark King instead of sucking my cock? I can find another flower faerie. You are the prettiest ones in the glen. So delicate,” he flicks his fingers over your hair, and you want to sink into the earth.

“You smell so nice. Have the prettiest smiles. Won’t you show me your smile, tiny?”

“I have nothing to smile about. You’re going to shove your disgusting penis into me, and I don’t want it,” tears flow out your eyes and you try to remember your warm spot beside the creek. A perfect spot to dance in the wind while your king smiled at you. He wasn’t like the rest of them. Steve was good. He loved and adored his court.

“Your king isn’t as precious as you want him to be.”

“He’s not kidnapping faeries from other courts to be fed on, is he?”

“He just makes his queen watch as he fucks his flower faeries.”

“No he doesn’t,” you scream, yanking your arms off your eyes. The oaf of a fae was sitting down in front of you. Invading your personal space, but fully clothed. You hate him for the lies that he spews about your court, and your king, “Steve would never.”

“You know nothing about your king. All faeries run off sex.”

“Steve runs of pure kindness,” his laugh bellows through the glade, but then he surprises you, leaning forward to touch the petals of your dress with an odd tenderness. Making you confused with the quick change, “Stop that!”

“We don’t get flowers here, pipsqueak.”

“All these thorns, and no roses?” He shakes his head no. His eyes flick up towards you before quickly looking away. “What’s your name?”

“Lee. Now get in the bag. Jax is hungry.”

“Oh, god, he’s going to eat me.”

“Most women would love to be eaten by Jax and his magic tongue. But he doesn’t eat flesh. He eats emotions. Seeing how his latest meal was stolen from him, I need you to be afraid. Suck my cock or get back in the bag,” you thought you were making some progress with the troll, but no. He is still threatening you. “Go on, little bit. I got a big cock just for you.”

“Oh my god!” Your scream echoes through the thorns, and Lee smiles when a shift in the wind happens.

“Run,” he whispers, and you don’t hesitate to jump up, sprinting as far away from him as possible. Too caught up in your tears to realize you are running deeper into the maze of thorns. And he laughs. Cleaning up his bag before making his way to his post. Chuckling at how stupid flower faeries were without their king. Predictable in their simpleness.

Jax licks his lips, already savoring your fear. His ringed fingers burn with anticipation. You wouldn’t be scarred or tattooed, but being scared was the next best thing. Your panting breaths pulses in his veins, and his eyes dart in the direction you were running. Right to him.

He was a drug, and he knew it. They all feared him, and yet always ran right to him. He hoped you’d only be as delectable as Andy’s human. You couldn’t be. She was damaged. She was supposed to be for Jax. He could feel it. Could still taste it.

He fakes a pout when he hears you cry out in pain. Flower fae were too stupid to wear shoes in his realm. But then again, they were never asked. They were forced. Remained here once their sunshine was drained. Ashamed to go back to their king that would hold them, and share his light.

But they were forever corrupt. Filled with Jax’s darkness, and willing to do everything for their king. Would serve him in ways that would be thought of as sinful. But it was just pleasure. Flower fae were not meant to stay in darkness. They needed their king and sunshine to bloom.

You gasp as you see his shadow stand up. Seemingly so much larger than Steve. Your comfort and safe space. He was terrifying. “Don’t run. You need your foot looked at. Some of those thorns are poisonous,” you gulp, finally pulling out the giant thorn in your foot, and Jax takes a deep inhale at the scent that permeates the air.

“You do suck on people’s blood,” you whine. Having to sit on the floor of the forest, and hold your foot. It hurt worse pulling it out.

“It’s all lies they tell about me, sweetheart. Can I?” Jax squats down in front of you, reaching for your foot. What other choice did you have than to extend it to him. He looks at the hole from whence the thorn was before licking his thumb and pressing it to your foot.

Instant relief. That is until you see smoke billowing off you, and the pain. Scurrying out of his grasp, you look at the scorched upper part of your foot, “What did you do?” He holds up his hands, and you notice the rings on his fingers had created a scarred effect on his skin.

Indented in on him and singed on every finger, “Iron,” he answers softly. “Makes me stronger. Makes the legends of me more fearful. Helps me feel my own pain when all I can usually feel is others. Imagine pain being something you feed off. You forget your own self and what it actually feels like. This helps me remember me. And now it no longer works. But my ugly hands remind people of what a psycho I truly can be.”

“So you do want to eat me?”

“Not you, you tiny little thing. Your emotions. The dark ones that Steve won’t allow you to have. What type of flower are you?” You grunt at him. You are getting tired of everyone talking bad about your king. Steve wasn’t anything like they were saying. He just wasn’t. He was good.

“Aw, did I offend you? What silly name did Lee call you? I was going to call you by your flower, but I’ll take what he said.”

“Tiny and pipsqueak,” every word is short and enunciated. You hate him. Both of them. You want to go home and back into the sunlight. Have Steve pull you up into his lap where he holds onto you, letting you absorb his warmth.

“Keep hating me, Tiny. Your petals are pretty,” you are a pretty little thing. Smaller than the others were. Adorable. Your fear was matched just as equally as your loyalty to your court. There was a bite to you. “What kind of petals are they?”

“Rose,” you stub up, refusing to look at him. He was a monster. You heard all the stories. Steve warned you about Jax, and why you shouldn’t trust him.

“Do you prefer that name?”

“I’d prefer to go home.”

“In time, Tiny. I am hungry,” you put on a brave face, but your lip trembles. Delicious. You are almost as intoxicating as Andy’s human. His human. She belonged with Jax. Andy hated humans. Jax treasured them.

“I think you and I could help each other. One quick taste, and then, I have a job for you.”

“Will I get to go back home?”

“Depends on how good you do. Now crawl over into my lap, let me get a little taste. It won’t hurt. In fact, it’s almost orgasmic,” you furrow your brow as you look at him. “Oh, you haven’t sat on Steve’s lap, huh? Had him stuff you full with cock?” You had sat on his lap, but not to do something as disgusting as that. Steve was warmth. He was change and growth.

You shake your head as you start to crawl towards Jax. Perfection. “It’s the best drug you’ve ever had,” he whispers, reaching over to grab you up, and putting you on his lap. You wince at the feeling of his rings touching your exposed skin.

His nose tickles up your neck as he inhales your scent. Flattening out his tongue he licks up the column of your neck before you feel a prick on your sensitive skin, and then dreams. Like there are clouds floating around your body. High and in a world of your own. Whimpering at the feel.

Lee peeks at you and Jax. Selfishly wishing it was his lap that you were grinding on. Your eyes are so blown wide with pleasure you didn’t even know what you were doing. Jax did. He moans right along with you. He bet you tasted like heaven. If there was one.

Your petals rise up and show off your glimmering skin. You had marks etched on you. No wonder you smelled like that. He knew it when he threw the bag over your body. You are special. Beautiful. Perfect. Immaculate. Different than the other flower fae he had captured.

“Ahh,” Jax moans, pulling off your body. Letting you ride out your high as you rode his stomach. “You need a taste, Lee?” Lee could be jealous, but Jax was generous. Waiting until Lee sits down before he shuffles your body on him. Biting on his lip as you grind down on him.

“She’s a pretty little thing, huh?” Lee nods his head as his breathing picks up. You are perfect. “She’s tasty. Wonder what the honey between her thighs tastes like? Maybe one day I’ll get to indulge. I have something bigger planned for her. I need humans. I need their ink,” Lee’s hand nervously tries to keep your thigh covered. Jax shouldn’t know about it.

“She’s adorable. While the veil is still open, I want her to entice broken humans to me.”

“But, sire?”

“You can accompany her, just don’t be seen. You might scare them. Enjoy your ride, and put her in my bed when she passes out from her pleasure. Poor thing never felt an orgasm before. Too bad she won’t remember it. But she will crave me,” his dark laugh bellows out before retreating into the thorns. Jax was always up to something. Lee could only tolerate it.

But for now, he was going to rub his hands up and down your thighs. Let you ride out your high for as long as you need. Beautiful. Perfection. Sinful. You’ll fit right in. Letting yourself go into darkness as your petals shift over your skin. Getting sight of your perfect tits as your nipples start to poke out.

Cupping both your breasts, his thumb rubs over the hardened buds, and you moan. Overcome with this new feeling. His finger and thumb close over each nipple, and he squeezes. Adding more pressure when you start to whimper. You like it. Love it. The darkness is already spreading through you. Spring shouldn’t enjoy even a little bit of pain. They were innocent and vanilla.

He wants you tied to his bed begging for him. But for now he’s going to enjoy the vision of your tits bouncing in his face and wanting more. More pain. More Lee. More darkness. He’ll give it to you. He’ll give you everything that Jax refuses.

“You get back here!” Lee growls as you run through the forest of thorns. Knowing where to duck and jump at just the right time. His goal was to keep you away from the king, and he’s succeeded most of the time.

“Argh!” He screams out when he loses sight of you. “You’re not going to like what you see!” His voice yells up into the sky. Shaking his head, he starts to sludge towards Jax’s palace. You’d brought him a human, and your deepest desire is to see what he did with the humans. Lee’s job was to keep you away from those creatures as Jax fed. He failed. He would pay. He is not looking forward to Jax’s wrath.

Slinking through the hallways, you listen to Jax’s deep groans. The screams of the human makes your skin crawl the closer you get. He has to be torturing her. Eventually murder her. Your morbid curiosity gets the best of you as you skip a few of the tiles, knowing that they would alert Jax to your whereabouts.

His door is opened a bit, and you have to peer through it. Watching his scarred back where his wings used to be. The skin is raised and still raw. Rippling with every thrust of his hips. The human woman’s hands start to claw into his skin, but he slams her hands above her head, growling something in her ear.

You can’t look away. You’d never seen your new king in such a vulnerable state. Completely nude with the woman. Unable to tell if she’s in pain or if those were cries of pleasure. Leaning into the door, it creaks and Jax turns his head. His minty green eyes locking in on you. His mouth sets into a frown, before he smirks.

Moving off the woman he turns her to look at you. Placing her on her knees before his hips slam into her backside. She is blind and doesn’t even see you, but his cold eyes stare at nothing else but you. Gnarling his teeth as he slaps her rounded ass, and you go to turn. “Don’t you dare!” He growls.

“You wanted to see. Watch it,” he chuckles as you start to step backwards, but your back hits Lee’s chest instead.

“I told you that you wouldn’t like it,” his breath is warm on your neck as he whispers right into your ear. “She’s enjoying it.”

“Why is she screaming then?” You can’t look away. It is horrible the way he is angrily jabbing himself into her.

“Pleasure. Some people get off on pain,” Jax’s hand wraps around her hair, and he forces her to look up at you. Make you see the recoil in her breasts. Her eyes are dead. “He overstimulates them before he ever enters them. This is what we call fucking. She’s so blinded by the over indulgence of pleasure she doesn’t even know where she is. Won’t remember coming beyond the veil.”

“He looks like an animal. He does this to all my humans?”

Lee’s hand slides over your stomach, pressing you tight against him, “Your humans?”

“I brought them to him. I bring them to slaughter.”

“They won’t remember much. He devours their sadness, their pain, and then he pleasures them with pain. They need him just as much as he needs them,” he moans on your neck. Unable to contain himself. You had started to roll your body with Jax’s movements. It isn’t as harsh as his stabbing, but it was just what Lee needs. Letting your tight little ass circle on his swollen crotch.

“They’ll be a new human tomorrow. Just flashes of a memory of this moment,” Lee sees Jax’s eyes flick to your thigh, and he stares horrified at your bare leg. Your petals had rode up, and the veining of your mark could be seen. Quickly he tries to pull it back down, but Jax knows what he saw. Lee has been lying to him.

Slapping at her ass again, Jax’s motions begin to jerk before he stops all together. “You want to clean me off?” He grins, pulling out of her, and he turns her behind to you. “You see how gaping I made her? Go on, darling, push it out.”

“Jax!” Lee shouts from behind you as you spin around, and hug yourself to his chest. “Enough!” Jax lets the woman’s body fall to the bed and he stalks over to Lee poking him hard on the shoulder.

“You’re too damn soft on her.”

“And you are bonded to her, and still want to embarrass her.”

“You were supposed to be watching her. She wanted to see. Wanted to see what my cock is used for, and now she has. You did that bitch a favor, Pipsqueak. She was in the depths of despair when you brought her to me, and now she has a high better than any fucking drug. She’ll go back with the humans as new woman. She won’t be sticking a needle in her vein, or having sex for money. She’ll have aspirations. You did a good thing,” his voice starts to calm, and the anger no longer right at the edge, “Pip? C’mere, darling.”

“No,” you mumble against Lee’s chest, “You’re naked, and smell of her.”

“Darling, I just want to hold you. It’s what you really need.”

“I said no!” You dare to look over at him, and his brows furrow. “I don't need you!”

“The hell you don’t! You’ll always need me, Pip. And you!” His gnarly finger points at Lee, “You have failed me, yet again. You have one job, keep the Pipsqueak away from my sessions. And you’re a fucking liar.”

“I’ve not lied to you,” he only wasn’t honest. He knew Jax would become obsessed with the mark on your leg. It was hardly noticeable. Nothing to get excited over.

“Withholding information is a lie, and punishable by death!”

“No!” Screaming, you turn around holding your arms out in front of Lee, “Don’t you touch him! I will tell Andy!”

“Don’t you dare scream your idle threats at me. He gets punished.”

“No,” you no longer scream, and Jax tilts his head down to look at you. “Punish me instead. He didn’t do anything. I did this. I came to find you because I needed to know why I couldn’t watch. Lee didn’t do anything. Jax, please, he’s my only friend.”

Jax’s hand goes to your chin, and he lifts you up to fully look at him. You grit your teeth as his iron rings burn your skin. You had learned well, and the urge he has to praise you gets pushed down. Now wasn’t the time, “I can’t hurt you, Pip.”

“And I can’t let you hurt him. Punish me. Do what you want.”

“No,” Lee pulls you tighter to him, but you shake your head looking at Jax. Your new king. And you wouldn’t allow him to hurt your friend.

“Please, use me instead of Lee,” Jax loved it when you asked nicely. Something inside of him stirs every time that your soft voice pleads for him to do something for you.

“Show me your leg,” Lee told you never to let Jax see your thigh, but what choice did you have now. You slide a petal over to the side, and Jax gawks at the vine that was fairly small. He sinks to his knees, and presses his nose against your thigh, sniffing up the length of the vine before his tongue flattens on your skin, and you push him away from you.

“Your punishment is to be in my bed every night. And you…I’m not finished with you, you miserable excuse of a man.”

“He is no man,” you remind Jax. “And neither are you.”

“Get this cleaned up, Lee.”

“I won’t sleep in the bed where you’ve had other women. I don’t want them on my skin,” Jax lets out a low growl, but his eyes move to the raw skin on your jawline. You took the pain. You were becoming part of his court, and still not growing weaker like the other flower fae. But, they would have already been bouncing on his cock. So you did deserve different quarters.

“Fine. Care to join me for a bath, Pip?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself. Lee, get used to useless work, you coward.”

“Pip, come here, darling,” you look across the room into the bed where Jax sits, shaking your head. “You get your tiny little ass in here, I feel we need to talk.”

“You won’t hurt me?”

“Do you remember our bargain?” You shrug your shoulders, walking a bit more into the room. Faerie bargains can be a bit difficult, and you aren’t sure about your own with the king of sly words. “I can’t take from you as long as you bring me my humans. Have I ever taken from you, Pipsqueak?” Shaking your head no, Jax lifts his hand up to you, wanting you to take it on your own.

“I haven’t. We have both kept our end of the bargain.”

“But…I’m taking Lee’s punishment.”

He pulls you in between his thighs. His fingers no longer clad with iron rings, and his hands rub softly up and down your legs. Gone is the pain you always feel when he touches you. No longer a scent of burning flesh. A permanent indentation from his self caused pain of wearing iron. His thumb toys on the line of your mark, and you push him away. “Don’t fight me, Pip, you will lose.”

“Are you going to make me?”

“Make you what? Take my cock? No, darling. I have no desire to squeeze myself in your tiny little body. Why do you want to take on Lee’s punishment? He failed his job, and he was hiding your little secret from me.”

“It’s not a secret,” Jax raises his eyebrows as he stares down at you. “It’s not!”

“Where did you get them? You let someone mark your body, and didn’t tell me. You know how I love the taste of ink. Where did you get it?” His finger goes back to the edge of your mark, and as long as he doesn’t drift up him higher, you’ll allow this space.

“I was born with it.”

“That’s impossible. Only…Pip, who is your father?” You shrug your shoulders because you truly didn’t know who your father was. But you aren’t lying about the vines. “Let me taste it.”

“No,” his stomach rumbles with frustration. You always denied him at first. “That’s why I bring you humans. Lee said you shouldn’t know unless you asked. You never asked,” his hands on your thigh, roam up to your hips, settling on your waist before he lifts you up, and forces you on his lap. Straddling him, and your mark pokes out from beneath your dressing gown. It was getting darker. Bigger. More vibrant than before. The color was just as dark as his own.

“Do I scare you?”

“You can’t hurt me.”

“I can’t take from you. You can give to me though. There’s the difference, my tiny little Pipsqueak. You should know to make your intentions clear when making a bargain. I could make you scream and beg for me to take from you just to stop the pain. You’d do well in remembering that. Touch me. Go on, touch me. Run your dainty little hands up my chest. We’re bound together, darling, I own you. I can do whatever I want to with you, as long as I don’t take from you. Not even your life, but there are things much worse than death. Touch me!” He screams right at your face.

Your hands slide up his decorated chest. Using your fingers to trace the outlines of his own tattoos. Smiling when he starts to shudder, and then you slide down his back. Rubbing the pads of your fingers over his marred skin where his wings used to bed. “Enough!”

He pushes you onto the floor, and buries his face into his hands, “No one ever touches me there.”

“Why?”

“My cruel brother had them ripped off my back. Laughed as I crawled away from him. People want to act like I’m the monster, why don’t you ask Andy how many humans he has killed. I have never once killed a human. I leave them more human than they were before. I was made to be the villain, and stuffed into this desolate forest of thorns, but I make due with what I have. Stronger than he ever could be because I allow the pain to happen. Pain makes us more…human,” peering up into his minty green eyes, you lean your head to the side.

Jax didn’t fear, but he longed to be human. Wanted to feel the way a human did. “Humans love.”

“I have no love to give, Pip. It’s why I feed off their emotions; it's something real. Not this too long of a life that we are forced to live,” Jax was the second oldest faerie in the glen. Only his brother was older than him, and you wondered just how old he was. What he has seen in his life. What he has felt. Once upon a time Jax and Andy cohabited together.

“What do you do with them…”

“Would you want to feel it?” His grin turns devilish as his foot pushes your thighs apart. Staring at your core, “You’re curious,” heat radiates from you, and onto his foot. You were more than just curious. You are quaking with the need to feel it.

“It will hurt. You promised not to hurt me.”

“My word is as useless as dirt. But I assure you it’ll only hurt for a moment.”

“And then you throw me away just like your precious humans?” He runs his foot up through your center. Letting his warmth linger over your mound, and you tremble. You had never felt something quite like that before. Although it was familiar.

“I’d never throw you away, Pip. That’s a promise.”

“Your word is as useless as dirt.”

“This doesn’t feel good? Doesn’t it make you want and need my touch? Shake your head no at me, I can feel your pulse in between your legs. Just sit in my lap, and I’ll show you how good I can make you feel.”

“I have stipulations,” gulping, you look up at him. You did want to know what it felt like, but there is something you desire more. “I will, but I don’t want you inside me, and I want to know why Andy did that to you.”

“Not tonight, but I will tell you. In time. If you allow me to see all of you,” standing up, you knock off the shoulders of your dressing gown. Letting the thin material slide off your curves, and onto the floor. Bringing your arms up to cover your chest, but he shakes his head no, “I said all of you.”

Dropping your hands to the side, he lifts up his finger, twirling it around, asking you to do the same. Taking one step at a time, you turn around. Baring everything to him. Feeling his eyes trail up and down your body, you shudder. He was looking at you like his next meal, “My beautiful tiny Pipsqueak,” his? Your breathing speeds up as you turn back around to look at him.

“Now, let’s put you to bed, crawl back on my lap. I’ll give you the smallest taste of my sin,” your feet feel like lead as you put one in front of the other. Crawling onto his lap, and his thumb goes back to your vine. Sliding up and down it, while also dipping lower to your core. “I should have asked you to spread your legs. Maybe I could have seen where this leads to.”

“Is it me, my body, or the vines that I have no control over that you desire most?” Giving a bit of a smirk, Jax watches as the vines deepen, ridges sprout along it with every grind you do over his body. Your brain might not remember, but your body did. Craved him, and the friction.

“They’re changing,” he hums, finally looking up at you. “Does this mean your darkness is blooming? Or are you going to deny me again?” You sit silently, apart from your heavy breathing. Gripping onto his shoulders, you bare down even harder. Letting your body give into the temptation and pleasure as you pinch your eyes closed. Going outside of your mind for a moment.

Jax’s eyes flick over to the door, holding those blue eyes as he bends closer to your bouncing tits. Giving a smile before his mouth circles around your pebbled peak, and you mewl. Moving harder. Faster. Giving to him what he has wanted, while he watches the man conflicted.

Lee goes from glaring at Jax to watching your beautiful body writhe over him. The tent in his pants is painful, straining against his clothes. That should be him. You offered yourself up for Lee’s punishment, and yet, here he is still being punished. Always. Jax knew the hold that you had over Lee, and he tortured him with it.

“Let me enter inside of you, Pip!” He begs, moving his mouth to your other tit.

“Tell me about Andy,” his sucks turn into a bite, and you laugh. Leaning back, you rest your hands on his knees, letting him view your tattoo even closer. “Then look at what you will never have.”

He doesn’t even care about the tattoo, just your puffy cunt that was on his stomach. He growls out your name as you move to get up. “You have no power over me, Jax. We’re bonded, but you don’t own me. Lash at me, spank me, do whatever you need to in order to pay for Lee’s punishment. We’re done for the night.”

“I said in my bed!”

I was in your bed, and now I’m leaving to get some sleep. You can have all of me if you tell me about Andy,” Lee’s eyes flash bright blue before he steps back in the shadows. You didn’t need him right now. You were doing just fine on your own. “Let me take your pain.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Then suffer alone,” you whisper, grabbing up your gown before walking back to your own bed. Glutton for punishment. Jax would never get over it, and with that came his suffering. His downfall. His own living hell.

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @theinheriteddutchess @pandaxnienke

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skydrag0n · 1 month ago

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Faerie AU part 3

“Hey Robin?”

“hm?” he responded absentmindedly

“Why’s your heart rate so.. weird?” Kon asked

“It just is” He said in a deadpan voice

“But.. *why*?” Kon asked again

He turned to face the boy fully

“Why do you think it’s odd Conner?” He tilted his head to the side questionably

Kon paused for a moment, thinking. After a moment he lit up. “Oh! You must have a device built into your suit to disguise your heart rate so I don’t recognize you in civvies”

He smirked at Kon, he didn’t but he wasn’t going to tell him that. It was best to let Conner come to his own conclusion.

“AHA I WAS RIGHT” Kon said excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Yea this was the best case scenario, he never even lied. It’s not like he could've even if he wanted to, so he’d just lead the mortals to their own conclusions.

#tim drake #dc #tim drake wayne #batfam #dc comics #kon el #fae!tim drake #fae!alfred #faerie au #faerie #fae au #sorry this is short #i wrote it really quickly #i wanna draw fae tim #notice how tim never refered to himself with a name #that was on purpose

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malevolent-monthly · 3 months ago

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September 2024 Prompts!

[ID: A graphic with a long yellow rectangle on top and two white boxes beneath it. The yellow rectangle has the words “September 2024” in it. The leftmost white box has the first prompt title, "John with Children” underlined in yellow, along with the prompt text, "In a post-canon AU where John has a human body, Arthur learns that his friend is, surprisingly, good with children. This awakens in him some conflicting emotions.” The rightmost white box has the second prompt title, "Faerie AU" underlined in yellow, along with the prompt text, “Fantasy AU, in which Arthur accidentally wanders into a faerie circle." /End ID]

Welcome to month 9 of the Malevolent Monthly event! This month’s prompts are:

John with Children: In a post-canon AU where John has a human body, Arthur learns that his friend is, surprisingly, good with children. This awakens in him some conflicting emotions.

Faerie AU: Fantasy AU, in which Arthur accidentally wanders into a faerie circle.

As a reminder, you will have the entire month to write a fic based on this prompt. There is no minimum or maximum word count. Fics responding to these prompts can be posted anytime. If you’re posting to AO3, don’t forget to add your fic to our AO3 collection!

Participants can also send asks or submissions with snippets from their fic, and we will preview them on our Tumblr and/or Pillowfort.

For more information about the event, please visit our FAQ page or send us an ask!

#malevolent monthly #malevolent #malevolent podcast #september 2024 #john with children #faerie au

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trix1erose · 5 months ago

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okay,, but what about a fae au?

#i havent written in ages but this actually had me opening the laptop again #petra and ivors designs are in the works- everyone else is just normal sadly #minecraft: story mode #minecraft story mode #mcsm fanart #mcsm order of the stone #mcsm jesse #mcsm m!jesse #mcsm olivia #mcsm axel #mcsm lukas #mcsm petra #mcsm ivor #mcsm jesskas #jesskas #fae au #faerie au

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silver-blooded-synthetics · 9 days ago

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@thethreefaes asked:

💬 + I hear you’re pretty awesome! ~Lyra In bed~Rose finishes Rose no! ~Lyra Rose yes. ~Rose

Errol looks the two women up and down with a small smirk tugging at his lips. They certainly are entertaining. Cute too, the both of them. "Well, you're not wrong on either account," he replies playfully. "But a faerie is only as good as his company. I imagine I'd be a lot more awesome with you two around."

#answered ask #oc errol #faerie au

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emry-stars-art · 7 months ago

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@halfpintpeach asked for fae autumn queen Allison in this dress and she is.. SO pretty ✨

Get a sketch request on kofi 💕

#when women…#I’ve also been sketching Cat and Laila so I am #very stuck in this mindset #this wonderful mindset of pretty ladies #join me won’t you #fan art #my art #aftg #all for the game #others aus #faerie au #allison reynolds

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skzdarlings · 2 years ago

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the same but different | the threesome series ; skz ; han/reader/felix

masterlist.

threesome series part 3/4.

You grew up with Felix and Jisung. Your definition of normal has always been unique, considering Felix is a faerie and magically connected to Jisung. So even though you are dating Jisung, when Felix tells you he needs to marry to keep up appearences in the faerie court, you see no reason to say no…

pairing: han jisung/reader/lee felix content info: sexual content. threesome. faerie au. this is an almost 16k word read. one day i will meet my maker and have to atone for that. warning for some ambiguous motivations plus general freaky faerie and supernatural stuff. felix and jisung have a magical connection, reader does not know the details but it seems they can physically feel each other's reactions and urges and they do a lot of the same things in an uncanny way. there is a 'consummation ritual' that involves being watched but reader is clever about it.

Autumnal flurries follow Han Jisung everywhere, little tornadoes of red-and-gold kicking up an elemental fuss wherever he steps. It might be a remnant of his time with the faerie folk, or maybe a coincidence, or maybe he is such a blustery font of chaos that he is simply kicking up wind storms on his own.

He totters into the café with his usual trail of leaves, much to the displeasure of the bus boy who follows with a broom. The wind gets restless at the window. It throws itself against the pane with a heavy, reverberating thunder as if nature is knocking in pursuit of Jisung’s attention. You watch a few pine cones hurl themselves at the glass before everything settles down on its own.

Jisung pays it no mind. He slides into the booth across from you, heaving a big dramatic breath.

“Good afternoon,” you say, amused with your boyfriend’s theatrics. They are as constant as his flurries.

“Yo, is it, ‘cause ah, HAHA—I’ve been having a day.” He thunks his head on the back of the booth and pretends to fall asleep. His round glasses skew with the loll of his head.

Jisung dressed up for today’s date. He is wearing a beige coat that flatters his warm complexion plus that cute checkered scarf you gave him last winter. You don’t mind his usual hoodies and caps as it always puts a swagger in his step, but you appreciate his effort even if it is a little random.

He lifts his head with another musical sigh, golden blonde hair fluttering from his breath. His big glasses make his dark eyes even bigger and you smile again.

“Hi,” you say sweetly.

He whimpers with more theatrical misery.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says like it is the most painful fact in the world. “Why are you so beautiful? And funny, and smart, and mine. If you weren’t gonna be ugly and horrible, the least you could have done is reject me. It wouldn’t have been so bad. I could have been a lonely suffering artist, hidden away in a basement, composing symphonies for the beautiful woman out of my league.”

“I think you just described the Phantom of the Opera,” you say.

“Even better.” Jisung sighs wistfully. “He lived in an underground sex dungeon, right? I don’t think he even paid rent.”

You laugh into your hot chocolate.

“What’s gotten into you?” you say. It’s a rhetorical question. Jisung is always a little silly.

Your playful boyfriend thumps his hands on the table and glares past you, out the window.

“Faeries,” he says brusquely. “And their stupid faerie bullshit. My life is a nightmare and an arthouse horror movie and no one has ever suffered more than me—oooh, is that a chocolate croissant?”

You slap his hand when he reaches for your pastry. He yelps like you chopped it off.

“Jisungie,” you say, lifting an eyebrow, “what do you mean faerie bullshit?”

He pouts spectacularly while unknotting his scarf. He speaks in a watery, despondent voice, very contrary to his usual goofiness, “What do you think I mean?”

This, it seems, is also rhetorical as you have no opportunity to answer. The bell jingles above the door and a little shiver moves down your spine.

Unlike Jisung, you have never been to the faerie realm, but you have a gift for recognizing a supernatural presence. Everything catches your eye as if they are sparkling fireflies, no matter their efforts to hide.

The courtly fae, the ones that look human, have a tendency to cast enchantments both literal and metaphorical, their impossible beauty captivating to any human eye. You are not immune to their gravitas, the way space seems to warp around them like earth is little more than gelatinous mire, but you can sense their other-worldliness before seeing them. This is most likely due to exposure. You did, after all, grow up with a faerie.

You look to the doorway.

Ah. Speaking of.

“Oh my god,” Jisung whines. “He said he’d give me time to tell you.” He steals your hot chocolate and takes a swig like it’s hard vodka.

“Tell me,” you repeat. “Tell me what?”

Though you are talking to Jisung, you cannot help but look over at his… his…

His Felix.

Felix smiles when he sees you. He scrunches his nose cutely and it makes his constellation of dark freckles dance on his sunny face.

The freckles have always been an intriguing part of his glamour – for his human-like appearance is a mask shrouding his true faerie form – because faeries typically regard such things as imperfections. Perhaps the freckles are residual from his time in the human realm, as Jisung’s flurries are the opposite.

Felix is unbelievably beautiful. He is wearing mortal clothes but he does not look truly human. There’s something in his movements, fluid and dance-like, sometimes too swift to perceive. His blonde hair catches the light with a perfect glow at every angle, his slender frame flawlessly draped in a black long-coat and a flattering black sweater. His lovely ringed fingers part the air with his little wave and his perfectly pink mouth curls up in a sweet smile. His dark eyes seem to sparkle.

He crosses the restaurant in a few strides, quicker than a human would. He smiles the whole time.

“Hello,” he says, his deep voice smooth as butter. Or maybe you’re the butter, his voice the knife, gliding right down the centre of you and settling low in your belly. It has always had that effect.

“Felix, hello,” you say in that quivery way you always greet him. You grew up with both Jisung and Felix but Felix flits off to the faerie world when it suits him, and every time he returns you find yourself awestruck by him, as if you had never truly seen him before.

Jisung smacks his head down on the surface of the table. You and Felix look at him, you with considerable more concern. Felix just draws his mouth into a flat line, neither smiling nor frowning, more like he anticipated his… his… his Jisung would behave this way.

“Is it okay if I sit?” Felix asks, pointing to the spot beside Jisung. Jisung is somewhat sprawled in the booth but this doesn’t seem to concern Felix. When you nod, he smiles, smooths out his coat, and simply bumps Jisung with his hip to squish himself into the booth.

Jisung whimpers again, resting his head on the wall and pouting at it.

“So,” Felix says. He folds his hands on the table and tips his head, looking at you. “How are you doing these days, hmm?”

Faeries are known for their decorum. It can turn sour very quickly, but it is imperative to adhere to rules of hospitality and general politeness.

It is still strange and unnerving to have a faerie prince plunk himself into your booth and smile at you so politely. Especially when you haven’t seen Felix in more than a year. A year and fifteen days, to be specific, because Jisung has counted them all. Jisung complains endlessly when Felix visits but he complains even more when he’s gone for too long.

You think Felix must have returned to the human realm a while ago. Jisung is usually friendly when he firsts sees him, but right now he is glaring.

“What?” Felix looks at Jisung. They cock their heads at each other, the same angle, same time.

It is always funny seeing them side-by-side. Singularly, they look nothing alike, perhaps because Felix has intentionally deviated his glamour from being identical. Jisung has a round face, cartoonishly cute at times, his build bulkier from his somewhat erratic workout schedule. Felix is all sharp lines with a pointed elegance to his features, though his presence fills what space his slender body does not. Their only similarity is their hair, similarly bouncy, alike in length, and identically shaded. Right now it is a matching blonde.

Despite their ample differences, there is an uncanny sameness to them. They move the same way, tip their heads at the same time, roll their eyes in tandem. They even take a breath at the same time. You are certain if you pressed a hand to each of their chests, you would find their hearts beating to the same steady cadence.

Felix was once a changeling. Faeries sometimes swap their infants for human ones, occasionally for fun, oftentimes when their offspring is sickly or malformed. Once a changeling swap has occurred, the faerie and human are inexorably linked to one another. If the human parents try to kill the faerie or let it die, it will also kill their child, so it is in their best interest to nurse the sickly baby and hope the faeries swap them back.

Felix was born too soon, a shrivelled little creature, third son of the autumn high prince’s third wife. His mother swapped him for Jisung, stealing the little mortal away in his infancy. Jisung’s mother was not a bewildered, simpering mortal, however. Her resilience and intelligence was part of the family’s initial allure, but it was also the downfall of the changeling operation. She ventured into the faerie realm and won back her son, plus the right to see the lonely faerie prince that had been so unceremoniously abandoned by his unloving family.

She returned to the mortal world with Jisung and Felix. The changeling prince spent his childhood bouncing between the human realm and the world of faerie. You grew up next door to Jisung and the three of you have been a tight-knit trio since before you can remember.

You love Felix just as much as you love Jisung, it’s just that… the faerie-ness complicates things. You aren’t sure Felix really loves you or Jisung in a way you understand. Even now, his enquiry after your well-being seems more like a necessary script than genuine question. He will be uneasy until you complete your side of the exchange.

“I’m good, Felix,” you say. “How are you?”

He smiles, freckles dancing. “Good,” he says. “Thank you.”

Felix cracks his neck and Jisung is compelled to do the same, though he looks irritated about it. The depth of their connection has always been ambiguous to you, but sometimes Jisung feels phantom aches and pains, urges that come out of nowhere and pester him like an itch until he satisfies them.

He seems impatient today, his glare not subsiding for a second.

“You said I could have time to tell her,” Jisung says.

“I gave you time,” Felix replies calmly.

“You gave me like five minutes, man!”

“It doesn’t take more than five minutes,” Felix says. He seems genuinely perplexed that Jisung would believe otherwise. He looks at Jisung with a head tilt that Jisung mirrors, then they both look at you. “Hi,” Felix says. “Will you marry me? See. That was less than five minutes. It was five syllables, actually. Well, I guess if you had asked it, you would have said, ‘Will you marry Felix,’ so it would have been six syllables, but that’s still less than five minutes, even if you streeeeetch it ouuuut—”

“I’m gonna stretch you out,” Jisung says, then plants his forehead in his palm. “That came out wrong.”

Felix does not plant his forehead in his palm but he does rest his chin in his hand.

“So,” he says to you, smiling. “Will you? Two syllables, by the way.”

“Shut up about the syllables, dude.”

“Wait,” you say, interrupting their inane blabber. If you leave them to it, Jisung and Felix will dance in verbal circles for hours and still not clarify anything. “Marry you? Why would I— Felix, you know Jisung and I— I don’t understand what’s—”

You love Jisung and Felix. You find them equally attractive, in their own way and as a complimentary pair. As much as you adore Jisung, you feel bereft when Felix is gone for a long time. Your crush on Felix was as inevitable as your romance with Jisung. Only where that relationship has long since solidified into a stable love, you and Felix have never done much more than hug.

Jisung and Felix, on the other hand, have shared their own intimacies. You caught them kissing back when you were teenagers. You got pouty rather than angry, viciously jealous of both of them at once. Jisung was too flustered to speak, mostly chirping like a frightened bird, while Felix just smiled and cheerily said, “Jisungie says we’re practicing.”

“Practicing?” you asked, hands on hips. “Practicing for what exactly?”

Felix frowned, looking confused, like it had never occurred to him to follow that line of questioning.

“For girls!” Jisung exclaimed.

Felix snapped his fingers and nodded. “Right,” he said. “Girls. That was it. Wait.” He looked confused again and pointed to you. “Isn’t she a girl?”

“She doesn’t count,” Jisung said, getting redder by the second. You threw a shoe at him and stormed out of the house.

That was a long time ago. That momentary flicker of suggestion was the only time Felix brought up potentially kissing you. Even then, it seemed less desirous than pragmatic.

And now, for some reason, he is asking you to marry him.

“Oh my god, man, maybe if you used more than five syllables, she would get what’s going on,” Jisung says. His gaze softens when he looks at you. He reaches across the table to take your hand, though it takes you a second to respond. Your fingers are frozen stiff around your mug. “Baby,” he says in a soft, apologetic voice, “I know it sounds a bit strange, but I promise I can explain.”

“I have to get married,” Felix interrupts, ignoring when Jisung scowls at him. “I think it’s just for, uhhh, appearances, basically. My brother Chan just became high prince and I’m the only one of my mum’s kids who isn’t married and she thinks it makes her look bad because all my dad’s other kids have their lives together… anyway, she said either I find a bride for myself or she was going to give me one. And, uh, she’s not very, hmm, generous, is she?”

Definitely a rhetorical question. You do not need to have met the faerie princess to know of her predilection for malice. Felix would most likely be saddled with some Shakespearean donkey-headed monstrosity for all his days. Felix, being Felix, would smile blithely and accept his awful fate, saying little on the matter when prompted.

Felix is like that. He shows neither amity nor animosity to much. His emotions, whatever they are, manifest unpredictably. He smiles a lot of blank smiles. Occasionally he bursts into random tears that flood out of him with terrifying distress. It comes upon him unexpectedly, so big that it is almost theatrical. You think he might be mimicking expressions of human pain to convey whatever interior hurt he is feeling, however severe or benign, then it just stops until next time.

He is not the sort to wail and harass you. Even if he was desperate, he would not force you to marry him. Looking into his dark eyes, you know that much. There are plenty of stories the world over where supernatural princes steal mortal girls from their beds, where they compel them to dance until their feet bleed, where they fill their heads with songs that play until the human goes mad and dies in some anguished pit in their own mind.

There are not many stories where they propose in a café.

“Felix, you idiot!” Jisung smacks Felix on the arm. “You didn’t even tell her the important part.”

“Oh yeaaah,” Felix says.

Jisung scoffs and looks at you, his expression soft again. He squeezes your hand.

“Baby,” he says, “you know how Felix and I have a special, um, connection?”

You know he means the changeling magic but you think about them kissing. You push the image aside, as well as the lingering jealously, and nod.

“Right,” Jisung says. “We’re like… tied together and shit, right? Like if I got hit by a bus, Felix would also go splat.”

“Faeries don’t splat,” Felix says, bristled.

“Splat,” Jisung says sweetly, “like a big stupid faerie pancake.”

“Jisung,” you say, “are you going to make a point?”

“The point,” Jisung says, “is Felix is gonna live a long time, if he doesn’t go splat. So that means… I’m gonna live a long time too.”

“If,” Felix interrupts, “he comes with me to live among the folk.”

The fair folk. Another name for the courtly fae. Divided into seasonal realms, the four courts host a variety of faerie life. Felix is from the autumn court and Jisung was spirited to it as baby. You have never crossed from this world into the faerie world. You know the stories better than anyone, almost more familiar with the foreign realm than the world around you, but its reality has only ever been a distant dream.

This seems like the world’s strangest break-up: your boyfriend leaving you for his changeling faerie to live an immortal life in the faerie realm.

Except it’s not a break-up. It’s a proposal.

“I have no idea what’s happening right now,” you say, juggling feelings of confusion and jealousy and desire. “What does that have to me with me? And getting married?”

“It will bond us together too,” Felix says, smiling again. “Do you understand? Isn’t that wonderful? The three of us can be together for always. I think you’ll really like it.” He looks sideways at Jisung and adds, “And you’re smarter than him when it comes to the fair folk. I would feel better if Jisung had your company.”

“What?” Jisung slaps the table. “What are you talking about? I’m the one who’s been there! I am so totally super smart about faeries all the time!”

“You once ate a magic apple and grew a tail,” Felix says.

“You know I get snacky after my naps. Besides, I got better. Suck on some salty iron and boom, no tail.”

Felix sighs, exasperated, and Jisung sighs, even more exasperated.

“Please marry me,” Felix says imploringly. “For all of us.”

Felix cannot lie. Faerie magic ranges from miniscule to immense, but lying is an impossibility regardless of rank.

An inability to lie does not guarantee honesty. The truth can be obfuscated. Faeries are clever with words, cleverer still what they reveal at all.

Felix has not lied. He needs to marry. It would bond you. You are smarter than Jisung when it comes to the fair folk.

Felix has not told the whole truth. He does not need to marry you specifically. He would be happy with just Jisung, you think. They have something special, something you have always watched from the outside. You know a lot about faeries but you do not belong to their world. Felix could keep Jisung safe. You are a spare.

Despite the loving stare of your two oldest friends, you feel woefully insecure. You take your hands back and rest them in your lap, staring morosely into your cooling hot chocolate.

“Baby?” Jisung says gently.

You look up. They look equally concerned. They reach for you at the same time then look at each other. They mutely come to an accord and Felix takes your hand. You shiver immediately.

“Sweetheart,” Felix says. “It’s just me. I won’t… I won’t make you do something you don’t want to do, but I… I want to know… I mean, do you not…”

“You don’t want to come with us?” Jisung asks, his bottom lip wobbling. Tears spill over his cheeks seconds later. “I-I-I know it’s a bit weird. But you’ve always talked about wanting to see it anyway. And you don’t have any family here anymore. Are you worried about the royal court thing? Because I’m gonna be there and Felix says we’ll spend most of our time at his bower anyway and okay I don’t even know what that means and I didn’t wanna seem stupid so I didn’t ask—”

“It’s just my tree-house, Jisung,” Felix says.

“It’s just his tree-house,” Jisung sobs.

“It isn’t that,” you say. You reach for Jisung so you are holding both their hands. You give them a squeeze. “I love you both. So much. It hurts a little sometimes because of how much. And I’m scared… I’m scared of being left behind.”

They both pause. Felix looks more bewildered than any supernatural creature in history, you are sure. They are inviting you to come along and you express fear of the opposite. It must be incomprehensible to his mind.

Apparently it also confuses Jisung because he softly whispers, “What the fuck.”

You bring their hands together and withdraw your own touch.

“I just mean…” You are too embarrassed to vocalize it.

Recognition lights their eyes at the same time. Jisung rips his hand away.

“I can’t be alone with Felix forever!” Jisung cries. “Are you crazy? We need you! Without you it’s just… just… just us. It’s nothing, it’s empty. You… you’re our person. If you’re not there too… then… then… then I’m not going either. I’d rather get old and die with you than live forever without you.”

Felix’s mouth opens and closes with a storm of unspoken thoughts. He has sobbed spectacularly at birthday cards and scraped knees, but he doesn’t cry now.

Jisung’s exclamation rattles you. It was such a genuine burst of emotion, so rich with devotion that you feel silly for ever doubting either of them. Empty, he said. You never considered what kind of echo might exist between them, how your presence filled it and made it better, not worse.

You intend to remedy your blunder, an apology on your lips, but then Felix finds his words.

“I’ll tell you my name,” he says. “My true name. Will that be enough to convince you?”

Enough?

You and Jisung stare at Felix with your jaws dropped. Felix clenches his jaw, staring back at you.

Faeries go by many names in their long lifetimes. Felix was the name Jisung’s mother gave him, but it is not his true faerie name. Names are powerful things. If a mortal has a faerie’s true name, they can ensorcell and compel that faerie to do their bidding. It essentially enslaves them.

Faeries do not freely reveal their true names, not to other faeries and certainly not to mortals. Tricky mortals have uncovered faerie names, stories of humans triumphing over wicked creatures, but you cannot think of a single story where the faerie got down on one knee and willingly offered it.

Because that’s what Felix does. He gets out of the booth and gets down on one knee in front of you, then looks up at you with dark, desperate eyes.

“I’ll tell you right now if that’s what it takes,” he says. His hands are shaking. The wind starts knocking at the window again, harder than before. Leaves form columns of colour, shooting up to the sky, scattering in every direction.

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t.” The trust this requires is extraordinarily substantial. It means more than any simple I love you. Maybe Felix feels human love or maybe he feels something different. Maybe losing you is not like losing a person, but like losing a limb or something equally vital. It must be, for him to offer up his entire being in a word.

The gesture means more than you can say. The best way to reciprocate it is by refusing it.

“It’s enough,” you say, choked up. “It’s enough that you would offer.”

“I’ll tell you,” he says, like he thinks you don’t believe him. But of course you believe him. He can’t lie.

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Come here please.”

Felix sits beside you and lets you wrap your arms around his neck. He is tentative at first but then he looks at Jisung and holds you tighter. The world outside settles once more.

“Wow, that was intense,” Jisung says. He grabs a napkin and blows his nose. “Wheeew. Wednesdays, am I right?”

Felix pulls back, just enough so he can see your face. You feel shy under his rapt attention, flush with warmth when his fingertips sweep from your temple to your jaw. He holds your chin and tilts your face up. He seems to be studying you. This close, you can see all the shades of brown in his eyes, even flecks of dark, dark green and threads of gold. There is a shimmer to the black of his iris. If he turned a certain way, you think his glamour would disappear. You think he would be beautiful anyway.

He exhales. His breath flutters over your lips.

“Will you come with us?” he asks, his deep voice rumbling so soft and low. “Will you marry me?”

You look at Jisung. You cannot imagine any circumstance in which a man would look so eager for his girlfriend to accept another man’s proposal, yet this feels completely normal.

Normal. The three of you have always had your own definition of that word, haven’t you?

You look at Felix, at the shimmer of his bold gaze.

“Yes,” you say. “Yes, I will.”

Felix smiles and Jisung lets out a whoop! You laugh, turning aside to wipe an unbidden tear from your eye. Felix touches your cheek. He looks more entranced than anything, blinking long and slow like a content cat.

Jisung is still celebrating. He shoves half your croissant in his mouth while you are distracted. Then, with his cheeks stuffed full of pastry, his eyes get wide.

“Ohyeah, weforgotsumffing!” he says around a mouthful of food. He coughs, swallowing too quickly. Felix clears his throat and passes Jisung your mug. Jisung gulps it down while you and Felix exchange an affectionate glance.

Then Jisung clinks the cup on the table and looks at you, sheepish.

“Haha,” he says. “By the way, you have to fuck Felix.”

There are entrances to faerie in the deepest part of the woods. Doorways are found in unlikely patterns that most humans will declare peculiar but innocuous: rings of spotted mushrooms, circular patches of darkening grass, shadows that arch with a perfect curve beneath a canopy of leaves.

You have known this all your life, but you also knew to never go looking. Not on your own. A mortal wandering into faerie is not so different from a lamb wandering into a wolf den.

Even with a wolf escort, you feel like that vulnerable lamb. You hold hands with Jisung the entire trek, trailing behind Felix who hums as he lightly dances his way through even the harshest terrain. Finally you come across two branches, twining up and up until they tangle like two hands clasping across a chasm.

Winded from the exertion of the hike, you and Jisung come to a slow stop to catch your breaths. Felix hurries ahead, his face brightening as he approaches the archway.

“You ready?” Jisung asks, squeezing your hand.

“Yeah,” you say. “You?”

“Oh, hell yeah, baby,” he says with a laugh. You look at him only to find his gaze turned on the archway, faraway with reminiscence. “I remember it, you know,” he says.

“What?” you ask. Jisung has never mentioned this before. “But you were just a baby.”

He looks at you with surprise, like he didn’t expect an answer. Maybe he didn’t mean to say it out loud. He laughs, deflecting the tension, and rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “Magic I guess, or something. I dunno. I just know I remember it. There’s stuff that happened last week I can’t remember. In a year, or fifty, or a hundred, I don’t know what I’ll remember from here. But I remember this place like I never left.”

You squeeze his hand again. He looks at you and smiles, squeezing back.

“Come on!” Felix calls. He is standing at the archway, waving to you. He is wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a leather satchel slung across his chest. The mundanity of his clothing looks unnatural. If he looked inhuman in that café, he looks even less human now. His glamour is in tact, his freckles pronounced, but there is a quality to him that defies logic. He looks like he could take off flying and it would not be unusual.

You and Jisung exchange a final glance then approach. Felix smiles and walks backwards through the archway. You can see him clearly as if he merely took another step in the woods. He holds out his hands, you and Jisung taking one each, then you step through as well.

Oh.

October orange sunlight pours through the trees, the early sunset colour of a clear autumn day at its close. The woods are a mosaic of colour: green, orange, yellow, red, brown, little swirls of leaves flying from branch to branch, gathering in piles and scattering again. You watch leaves settle over a pile of bones only for the whole apparatus to knit itself together. You stumble to a surprised stop as a cat made of bones and leaves unfurls before your eyes. It scampers up to Felix, rattling like an ivory windchime and somehow still purring. Felix scratches behind its leafy ears, smiling and greeting the kitty affectionately.

“Come on,” Felix says, not noticing the way you and Jisung are completely arrested by the sight of the cat. “It’s not far from here.”

It is the domicile of the autumn court. It is built into the woods, or swallowed by it, grand structures built within and around trees, some abodes very high in the sunlit branches, some disappearing into the ground. They are decorated with garlands of dried flowers, gardens of gourds and harvest fruit weaving around the lower rooms. You jump, startled, when a pile of nearby leaves rises up, revealing itself to be a deer, presumably also made of bones beneath its leafy surface.

“Whoa,” Jisung says, an apt summary. The leaf animals have no eyes, the faces uncanny. The deer turns its neck with a click of bone, dipping its head in a respectful bow to Felix as he passes.

Felix doesn’t notice. He is watching you and Jisung now, smiling with so much mirth you think he might start glowing.

“Do you like it?” he asks, looking directly at you. Maybe he knows what Jisung is feeling without asking. You try to school your expression to show more than just awe.

“It’s beautiful,” you say. You can see how a mortal could be a swept away by the beauty of the faerie court. Between the glitter of crunchy leaves and the wafts of cinnamon and spice, it fantastically overwhelms the senses. You can also see how quickly this dream could turn into a nightmare, if the sun was eclipsed and the undead creatures of the earth turned their vacant eyes on you.

You do not convey the complexity of your thoughts. Felix takes for granted that you always tell the truth, even though he knows you can lie. You think he sometimes forgets. His whole face crinkles up with a smile now, maybe too severely, but you appreciate his attempt to render delight for you.

“A little further to the palace,” Felix says.

“Palaaace,” Jisung says in a sing-song, squeezing your hand. He almost knocks you over when a bird swoops by his head. This raven is real, not made of leaves, and it perches on Felix’s shoulder. “Birds,” Jisung says woefully. “There’s always a freaky-ass bird.”

“This is one of mine,” Felix says, scratching its head. “I think my brother sent it.”

You watch as the bird leans in, eerily person-like in how it seems to whisper in his ear before fluttering off. Felix neither smiles nor frowns, his mouth drawing into a thin line as he comes to a halt.

“What is it?” Jisung asks. His startled tone reveals that Felix might be perturbed.

“They’re expecting us,” Felix says, gazing ahead as if he can see your destination through all the foliage. “They’re already preparing our wedding.”

“What?” you and Jisung say at the same time. You look at each other then you ask, “Did you tell them already?” Felix only proposed yesterday and he has not returned to the faerie realm, unless he snuck away overnight, but you don’t think so. He spent the night with you and Jisung, Jisung insisting on being the little spoon between two big spoons. Felix had his arm around Jisung and his hand in yours all night.

“No,” Felix answers. “I didn’t say anything yet.”

“This feels spoooooky,” Jisung sings, then laughs nervously.

“Maybe,” Felix says with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “Maybe not. Let’s go.”

You and Jisung exchange another look, but you have gone too far to turn around, so you follow Felix. He leads you to a red-bricked path that thickens with moss the further you walk. When you reach the base of a hill, Felix stops to hold your hand.

“Don’t look back until I say,” he says. “You could fall. Keep your eyes on me or the cat. She knows the way too.”

The cat is running around your feet, mewling, though the clack of its jaws is louder than its airy voice. You decide to look at Felix instead. Apparently Jisung picks the cat because he coos, “Aww, she’s kinda cute in a freaky way. What’s her name?”

“Babyeater,” Felix says.

“Oh nooo,” Jisung replies.

You follow Felix and the cat up an incline that grows so steep that at one point you are walking perpendicular to the forest below. You look at Felix the whole time, squeezing his hand tightly. His returned squeeze is reassuring. You remind yourself this is Felix, the same boy who kissed your scraped knees better, who sat through all your childhood tea parties even though he never really understood the concept of playing pretend, the same boy who has dutifully and lovingly obliged your every whim, however much he failed to understand its human purpose. For Felix, it was always enough if it made you happy.

He leads you safely over the crest of the hill, then it’s just a few more steps through a darker patch of woods before you are stepping into a huge clearing, bright and orange and gold. Three massive, broad trees stand in the distance, an elaborate stone citadel built around the trunks. There are faeries and other supernatural entities wandering around an autumnal garden, some scurrying with bundles of lights and candles and drapery. The clearing and castle have been beautifully and frightfully decorated with pumpkins and dried flowers and bones.

“Is this for us?” Jisung asks. “Uh, I mean, for you?”

“It looks like it,” Felix says uncertainly. “I don’t know how they—”

Jisung screams, a proper shrill yell right in your ear, when something bursts out of some shrubbery and blocks his path. You stumble back with wide-eyed surprise and Jisung instinctively shields you even in his terror. Felix is not scared, his face neutral as ever, but his connection to Jisung has him reacting similarly, guarding you with his body.

An eyeless husk straightens itself, bony limbs stretching for the sky. You hear the crack of a neck-bone and the flutter of leaves, then all at a once a glamour settles over the faerie, revealing a handsome young man with short brown hair and dark eyes.

“He’s still loud,” the faerie says. “You were loud as a baby too. Wahhh-wahhhh-wahhhhhh—”

“Seungmin,” Felix says, nonplussed. “Thank you for the raven.”

Felix bows and the faerie, Seungmin, who must be the aforementioned brother, bows back as per the dictation of decorum.

“Chan is mad he had to find out the news from Hyunjin,” Seungmin says, his mouth quirked in a smirky little half-smile. “You better to be ready to grovel.”

“Ah,” Felix says. He looks over at you and Jisung who are clinging to each other, still wide-eyed with surprise. “Hyunjin is a prince from the spring court,” Felix says. “He can see the future.”

“Oh,” Jisung says. “Yeah, sure, makes sense.” He looks at you with a face that says, it definitely does not make sense.

“Spring court,” Seungmin says with a little eye-roll. “They burst in here with a dramatic fuss like always. It’s embarrassing that the high prince of autumn learned about his favourite little brother’s engagement from a different court...”

“I can’t help that Hyunjin sees the future,” Felix says, more disgruntled than you have ever heard him. It occurs to you, as you look between him and Seungmin, that Felix stands out here just as much as he did in the human world. It is different, as here it is the little cracks of humanity that fracture his faerie face. Not just the glamour, the freckles or his clothes, but some intrinsic bearing. Maybe it is the sameness to Jisung, the way they block you with the same stance, the way they shuffle on the same foot. Maybe it’s something else, but it is suddenly pronounced.

Seungmin does not appear to notice Felix’s tone. He just gives another bow which Felix is forced to return. You see Jisung twitching and you squeeze his hand.

“You don’t have to bow,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says, then bobs twice in an aborted half-bow.

You sigh. You jump when Jisung shrieks again, startled by a little leaf-dog that comes running out of the shrubbery. It is being pursued by some frantic sprites. They yammer at the puppy in a faerie tongue as it starts to chase the cat. All their bones are clattering as they run around, cat then dog then sprites. Seungmin blinks at the fiasco then looks at Felix.

“Let’s go,” Seungmin says. He turns and gives you a bow, as is polite, then looks at Jisung and says, “Boo!”

Jisung jumps and Seungmin cackles, bowing.

Felix gives Seungmin a little shove, his mouth a grim line again.

You follow Seungmin further into the garden, coming upon a feast that seems to be currently underway even while servants continue to set the party around the guests. Food appears and disappears off the table, some faeries eating and some of them throwing food at the servants. You have heard stories of ensorcelled human servants being trapped in places like this, but you only see faeries so far. It doesn’t put you at ease exactly, but you don’t feel quite as frightened.

Then all the faerie guests at the grand table stop and look at you. Then you are frightened.

“Hi,” Jisung squeaks.

It is nervously and thoughtlessly blurted, but it would be impolite to ignore it, so a chorus of “hi” and “hello” circles the table in return.

Most of them have a glamour of some kind. A stockier, handsome faerie with bright orange hair stands. He is on the other side of the long banquet table but manifests in front of you in mere seconds. You are very alarmed to find him wearing bandages under a black army coat, the white wraps stained with blood. It is very at odds with his deeply dimpled smile.

“Hi there,” he says, looking past Jisung and straight at you. “Wow, Felix really did it. Welcome. Call me Chan. Sorry for the, ah, blood, I think it upsets humans?” This apology seems sincere enough, accompanied with a tilt of the head, but he offers no further explanation. He pulls you into an embrace, tucking you into the fold of one muscular arm, and laughing with an unexpectedly adorable giggliness. “We have a human little sister. That’s fun, yeah?” He looks at the table and everyone nods and claps, only a few characters mutely unresponsive.

You smile, maybe. It feels a bit boxy. Your brain is fitting all the pieces together, recalling that Seungmin referred to Chan as the high prince of autumn. Chan is thus the highest font of power in this faerie court and he is hugging you.

The hug pulls you away from Jisung who moves closer to Felix. You look at them, watching as they hold hands, trying to convey with your eyes that you would rather be with them.

There is no time for any extraction attempt because a fuss stirs at one end of the table. A pink-haired faerie bursts out of his seat. He is long-limbed, tall and spindly, and he runs around the huge table at a fairly human speed. He is wearing a billowy green jacket and a long string of pearls, his pastel appearance at some odds to the deepness of the autumn court.

“Hey Fee-lix! Heeey!” he says, very literally bouncing when he reaches Felix.

“Aha, hi, Hyunjin,” Felix says.

“You brought humans!” Hyunjin says, sweeping down to look at Jisung, then turning his dark-eyed stare to you. His glamour is astonishingly beautiful, as bright as his pearls, a face like a handsome marble statue and a supermodel’s stature. But he slinks like a ferret, as smirky as a fox. “The bride,” he says with something of a wistful sigh. His dark eyes are sparkling. “A faerie and a human. How romantic. I love romance.”

Then you are freed from hugging Chan, but only because Hyunjin cups your face in both hands and kisses you. Not a greeting kiss either, but a deep kiss. You sputter when he licks you.

“Um,” Jisung squeaks.

“This is High Prince Hyunjin. Of the spring court, of course,” Chan says amiably, not doing anything to stop the high prince of the spring court from sucking face with his brother’s bride.

Hyunjin stops on his own, smiling at you fondly. “Pretty girl,” he says, stroking his whole hand over your face. “I wish I could marry you.” This is spoken without much longing, but it must be true or he couldn’t say it.

He turns his sights on Jisung next. Jisung straightens, eyes darting around for an escape.

“The changeling baby,” Hyunjin says. “He’s so cute now. Can I marry this one, Felix?”

Jisung’s eyes widen, looking at Felix, then at you.

Felix looks unamused. “No,” he says simply.

Hyunjin pouts, slinking up to Jisung. He grabs his face, long fingers grasping him tight. Jisung’s lips part with surprise, his cheeks puffing when Hyunjin shakes his head around.

“That’s not fair,” Hyunjin says. “You already have one.”

“I said no,” Felix repeats.

Hyunjin just sighs. “I knew you’d say that,” he says. “Oh well.” Then he kisses Jisung full on the mouth too, Jisung squeaking through the very wet onslaught. Hyunjin just smiles and strokes his face, then goes back to the table.

Hyunjin’s self-introduction triggers a similar desire in the remaining guests. Soon they are swarming you, forced into the vaguest semblance of a queue when Chan waves a demanding hand. You meet Felix’s mother, who smiles and coos at you like she didn’t mandate a wife in the first place. You meet Changbin, another half-brother of Felix, who thankfully follows the example set by Chan and not Hyunjin and simply hugs you. He is so burly and strong that it lifts you off your feet, but he has enough restraint not to crush you, so that’s something.

There are clusters of other faeries, all noisy, all dipping in bows or trying to kiss you, and all of them from the spring or autumn court. A hush falls over the garden when the remaining guests approach for an introduction. Felix finally appears at your side, Jisung too, standing on either side of you and holding your hands.

“Winter and Summer,” Felix whispers as two courtly fae and their retinues step forward.

You know very well why Felix deigns to warn you. The autumn court and spring court, as per their seasonal equivalents, are shifting and transitory in many ways; they grow and they learn, and they often host humans, be it in a generous or malicious capacity. The winter and summer courts are hostile to change, and both have little to do with humans at all. Whatever human encounters have transpired in those courts have left few survivors to speak of it.

Their glamours fit them strangely, like new clothes not yet broken in. The first prince wears his glamour like a boy forced into dress clothes by a parent, walking with a stiff sort of discomfort. His robes are coloured blue and yellow, long and loose, his blonde hair turning dark blue at the root. His dimples are deep and cheekbones very sharp, and when he smiles he reveals a whole row of long, piercing teeth that he forgot to glamour altogether.

You jump, staring aghast as the otherwise too-pretty prince sweeps into a bow. He looks at Chan, sees him smiling, and copies the expression with a frightful brightness.

“Prince Jeongin,” Felix says. He squeezes your hand, reminding you to bow back. You do so swiftly. “Summer.”

“High Prince,” Jeongin says, laughing for some reason, a wheezing sound.

“You have fourteen older brothers,” Felix says.

“Had.” Jeongin smiles again, his dimples deepening, his teeth glittering. “I ate them.”

“Oh,” Felix says. There is a pause as he looks at you then looks at Jeongin. Your face reveals terror, you are certain, but Jeongin is waiting expectantly. Felix weighs his words and says, “Uh. You must be happy to be congratulated.”

You wonder how you ever thought Felix was strange. He seems so normal suddenly, the only one who finds something wrong with a person eating fourteen brothers. If he did approve, he would not have to word his congratulations so strangely to avoid a lie.

Unless he just did that to appease you, a small voice says in the back of your head. A different truth is not a lie.

You wish you were not such an overthinker. This is Felix. Your Felix. Yours, yours. As much yours as Jisung, who is breathing a little heavier, so it makes Felix breathe heavier, and their combined strain has you close to panting as well.

You are thus all breathless when you meet the final prince, introduced as High Prince Minho of the winter court. He is wearing dark clothes, apparently sans his usual furry winter accoutrements, and his glamour is a barely-there mask that vanishes when the light hits him at certain angles. He wears it like a loosely tied scarf, grudgingly donned. He has not glamoured his eyes, mismatched and vibrant and vacant of all human emotion. He does not smile when he bows. Like Jeongin, he does not hug or kiss you.

He looks you over, his stare raking, then he does the same to Jisung. Whatever he sees makes him laugh, though it is a derisive sound. Then he looks at Felix and says, “They’re fragile. Be careful, changeling.”

When he leaves, Jisung whispers, “Honestly, that last one got me kinda hard.”

“Yeah,” Felix says, unhappily, “I know.”

And just like that, you are trying very hard not to laugh.

You look at Felix and find his returned gaze to be very affectionate. You always thought his regards looked a little too precise, like he was concentrating on forming the appropriate expression, but compared to certain toothy grins and cold laughs, Felix looks positively alight with sentiment. He still looks strange in his t-shirt and jeans, but you think he might look strange anyway.

It never occurred to you before that Felix’s changeling life might have made him an oddity on both sides of the veil.

You feel a pang of sympathy, suddenly.

Felix looks down at where you are holding his hand. You see his gaze flit across to where you hold Jisung’s hand as well. It exacerbates that pang in your chest, recalling your own jealousy when you found them kissing, plus all the years spent wishing you shared their magical connection. It never occurred to you that Felix might feel some type of way about you dating Jisung, about you and Jisung both being human. Maybe it reminded he was an outcast wherever he went. Always very close to being part of something, never quite belonging.

Funny enough, Jisung has always been significantly more blasé. He sets his sights on what he wants and it never occurs to him that he will not have it. He has Felix, he dates you, you marry Felix, he lives forever. You look at your human boyfriend, at the way his dark eyes seem to sparkle as he looks around the garden. You think somehow, despite his occasional shrieks and frights, he looks more home here than Felix.

“Right then!” Chan suddenly claps in your face, startling you. “It’s wedding time, yeah? We’ve never had a human wedding here before but Hyunjin is an expert so he helped us out…”

Two faerie servants rip you away from Felix and Jisung. Hyunjin follows you, looking very keen, his hands clasped behind his back but his whole face lit up brightly. His eagerness does not put you at ease, nor are you reassured by his seemingly “expert” advice. Seeing as he thought it was appropriate to introduce himself by making out with you, you sincerely doubt he is the human expert he has proclaimed himself to be.

Sure enough, the slapdash preparations are very random. You are shoved into a very pretty dress, but then Hyunjin attempts to adorn you with both a veil and a headpiece, and you can see an array of other accessories from international wedding regalia. Being as polite as possible, you decline the offer to any headpiece at all.

“Wow,” Hyunjin says, cupping your face. “You are so humble. Humans are so amazing, the way they just let themselves be ugly. Wow. Wow. I won’t interfere with your hideous but humble head. Should we kiss again?”

“I think it’s better we don’t,” you say. “It might wrinkle the dress?”

He nods sagely. “That would be bad,” he agrees. “Especially because your head is so bare and horrible. The dress is doing all the work. Can I put flowers in your hair or do you really prefer to be ugly?”

“Uh, flowers, yeah, sure,” you say. He says everything so frankly that you somehow can’t feel offended. A compliment would feel just as meaningless.

“I’ve always wanted to attend a human wedding,” Hyunjin says. “You know, spring is a very popular time for human weddings. But humans are always dying so fast after, so it makes me sad to watch them properly.”

“You feel sadness?” you ask. Though Hyunjin and Felix seem quite different, perhaps you can glean an answer to the depth of faerie emotions. Especially considering this marriage business feels like an entirely different beast now that you are in a wedding dress with an entire congregation of faeries sitting in a garden waiting for you. It seemed like a simpler affair when it was just Felix and Jisung in a café booth.

“Oh, of course,” Hyunjin says. “I feel sad all the time. I feel sad right now because you aren’t marrying me.” He says this with a great deal of joviality, smiling at you like he’s proud of his supposed sadness.

You decide not to ask more questions on that front, because you doubt his answers will be very helpful. You do enquire after the wedding festivities. You try not to frown at the very random assemblage of traditions he has baked into a single ceremony. It sounds like a tedious affair but you decide to brace it, supposing it could be worse.

“Then we all watch the royal consummation,” Hyunjin says casually, adding another flower to your hair.

You grab his wrist without thinking, stopping him.

“Did I stab you?” he asks, blowing on your head to check for blood. “Sorry. I keep forgetting pins in heads kill humans.” He says this with a lot of exasperation, like it’s a personal inconvenience to him that humans die so easily.

“No, it’s not that,” you say. He pops another peony on your head, manifesting the little buds out of thin air. “What do you mean ‘we all watch the royal consummation?’ Who is ‘we’?”

“The high princes, obviously,” he says, tucking a rose behind your ear.

You stare ahead, mouth hanging open.

Yesterday seems so long ago now, but Jisung and Felix did explain to you that the autumn court required an act of consummation to legitimize the marriage. Apparently it has nothing to do with virginity or rearing heirs, mostly functioning as a ritual for the sake of itself. Once faeries decide something is a rule they must follow it.

You were very hot in the face the entire conversation. Jisung seemed content to describe the way you need would have sex with his changeling faerie, but you were too embarrassed to meet either gaze.

Maybe it would have been easier if you did not want to sleep with Felix. If it was just a necessity, it would be meaningless.

But you very much do desire Felix, even if he only smiled blithely during the discussion. He seemed unaffected while you were very flustered.

This is a very different type of flustered.

“I was not told there would be an audience,” you finally say.

“There isn’t usually,” Hyunjin says. “But that’s how human princes do it, if I remember. A whole council watches. Felix doesn’t have a council, though, so we’ll have to do it. It would be very rude not to indulge your human traditions. There! All done.”

He steps back to admire your appearance. You are still frazzled from the conversation, from the strong floral scent that is now wrapped around you, from everything.

“You look—” Hyunjin pauses, then, “—not horrible at all! I did a very good job. Now the wedding can start. I’ll tell Chan to start killing the sacrificial wedding goats. We only have one and it’s made of leaves and bones but I assumed that would be okay with you. This way we can just keep killing the same one over and over again. I’ll be right back.”

“Can I—” You feel panicked. You need to see Jisung. Hyunjin has you sequestered in some little golden alcove. You do not want to be hunted down if you just flee, so you ask, “Can I go look at myself in a mirror?”

“You’re testing me,” Hyunjin says, his long fingers covering his mouth with a surprised gasp. Then he giggles. “I passed! I know you can’t look at the bride before the wedding. Wait here!” Then he disappears out the gate and around the corner.

You sit down in a huff and close your eyes. You try counting backwards from one hundred to calm yourself, but you reach the low twenties and still feel tense.

Then you hear the patter of human footsteps. You know it is a human because faeries scarcely disturb the ground where they walk. You hear the crunch of leaves and lift your head, feeling a rush of relief with Jisung pokes his head into the alcove.

“There you are,” he says. “Felix is – uh – they’re getting him – dressed – and I wanted – wanted you—”

You stand as he talks, as his voice drifts, as his breath catches. He looks down the length of your dress then back up, his dark eyes watery as he exhales with a gut-punching whoosh.

“You look so beautiful, baby,” he says. “This – this feels weird. I know it’s – weird. But it’s not – it’s not wrong, right? It’s just weird. But weird isn’t bad. It’s just—”

“Weird,” you say, with a little laugh. “Yeah. I know.”

He smiles softly. He wore his glasses here but he has since put in contacts. His hair is neatly styled and he changed into slightly nicer clothes, still human world, but very handsome in his black pants and black shirt. He is so handsome that for a moment you forget about all your worries, taking a step towards him with your hand extended. He catches that hand, bringing it to his shoulder. He sweeps you into a kiss that banishes all your bad thoughts, the familiar taste and feel of him engulfing you. You sink your fingers in his hair, parting your lips under the press of his mouth.

It's him who ends the kiss, breathlessly, stuttering, “S-sorry, wait. I came here to tell – to tell you – the consummation – that pink guy—”

“I know,” you say with a cringe. You bury your face in his neck. “Ugh, a bunch of faeries are gonna watch me have sex.”

“Faeries and me!” he says with a nervous laugh.

“Huh!”

“I tried to stop it, but no one would really listen to me,” he says. “Someone only listened when I said it was weird for a guy to watch his little brother have sex, and some people agreed, so Prince Chan said I should take his place, since there were no faeries of equal rank to him and at least I was human.” He slaps a hand to his forehead. “Sorry. I tried.”

“Oh, Jisung,” you say, giggling a little helplessly at your morose boyfriend. “How do you get yourself into these situations?”

“You’re wearing a wedding dress!” he replies.

“That’s only because I know you!”

“Your life would have been very boring without me,” Jisung says, smiling.

“I know,” you say. “It would have been awful.”

Because for as strange as all this faerie nonsense is, you cannot imagine a world where you never knew Jisung, where you never knew Felix, where you never had this love in your life, as messy and jealous and complicated as it has been at times.

You tip your head, gazing into Jisung’s eyes. He shivers when you twirl a bit of his hair around your finger.

“Jisungie,” you say, thinking of your own jealousy, of Felix’s confounding glances. “Do you ever feel jealous at all?”

“Of what?” he asks, totally innocent.

“I don’t know,” you say. You are not sure how to explain it without seeming ridiculous, which puts it into some perspective. “I mean, me and Felix are about to… you know.”

“Uh, yeah. That’s okay. I don’t want to have sex in front of the cannibal faerie,” Jisung says, making you laugh. “Not a joke!”

“I know, I know.” You kiss his cheek.

“I couldn’t be jealous of you two,” he says, looking contemplative, as if this has never really occurred to him before. Then he looks at you a bit sheepishly, his gaze skittish in how it darts around.

“What?” you ask, recognizing his shy mischief.

“I think it’s… uh… kinda hot?” He rubs the back of his neck. “I love you and I guess I also love that stupid faerie boy. And… maybe… I kinda wanna see…”

You feel very hot again.

“You, um, want to watch Felix fuck me?” you ask, frankly as you can.

“Yes.” He stares straight up, his ears gone completely red and his cheeks turning pink. “I think you’ll look hot together. I was kinda hoping we’d do something like this one day. I mean, the cannibal faerie is a surprise, but other than that…”

You kiss him. His arms circle your waist and he tugs you close, the kiss deepening naturally. You let all your flustered embarrassment fizzle away, thinking about Felix, thinking about Jisung. You get a bit handsy, squeezing Jisung’s biceps then resting your hands on his chest. He makes a little sound into the kiss, one of his needy whimpers. It never fails to light you up.

“I’m nervous,” you say, speaking low, against his lips. “Thinking about so many of them watching me and Felix…”

It is clear by his gulp and frantic nod that Jisung finds the scenario sexier than he should. “Yeah, baby,” he says. “What can I do?”

You know the faeries will be occupied with Hyunjin’s myriad of rituals for a while, so you peck his lips and ask, “Get me ready?”

“Ready,” he repeats. His gaze jumps up to the flowers in your hair. “You are ready.”

“Not like that,” you say.

Jisung really does his best to be appropriate, but he gets pussy-drunk faster than any man you have ever known. A suggestion is all it takes. You tap his shoulder and he obediently drops to his knees.

“Baby,” he says in a reverent whisper, sighing, eyes closing when you run your fingers through his hair.

Heavy-lidded and so seemingly submissive to your desire, Jisung looks up at you. Then he reaches past you, grabs the chair by the leg, and yanks. He is not too gentle, spilling you onto it with a forceful nudge.

You know Jisung does nothing by halves. He is singular in his passions. You ask him to kneel, so he kneels, so he closes his eyes, so he opens his mouth. He pushes your dress out of his way and licks through your panties until the fabric is sticky and you are so so wet that it clings to you. Your thighs tremble and he whimpers softly, high and light in the back of his throat.

“Jisungie…”

“Shh, shh, shh,” he says in a raspy voice, drawing the fabric aside. “It’s okay. Don’t cry. I’ve got you, baby.”

He speaks so sweetly, like he is incapable of being mean, even while he torments you with long, twisting strokes of his tongue, never committing to a single pattern. It is a storm of sensation, rolling through you over and over again. You are so sensitive that slightest nudge feels like a miniature orgasm all on its own. You gasp and whine, trying and failing to close your legs around his head.

“Jisuuung,” you say, your voice rough. “We don’t have much time, I need to come…”

He moans when he buries his tongue in you, when he licks messily up past your clit and back down again. You grab his hair and tug, though it does nothing to deter him.

“Your husband can make you come later,” he says, giggling an inch from your pussy. “I’m just warming you up…”

“Please,” you say, “please, please, please.”

“Hmm?” is his reply, then he sighs and dives back.

Your eyes close, brow furrowing in concentration. You rock your hips against his mouth as he finally starts circling your clit with a single-minded resolve. You feel flushed and shaky, pleasure and heat coursing through you, and you know you must look as ravaged as you feel.

You open your eyes and see Felix standing in the entryway. He looks astonishingly beautiful, his long blonde hair neatly styled back, his freckles pronounced and eyes so dark. Long earrings made of sparkling orange gems dangle from his ears, looking at once like rippling flames and water running over bronze. He is dressed in an approximation of a tuxedo, except the pants are leather and the shirt and blazer are cropped too short.

He tips his head, his eyes on Jisung for a moment. Then he holds your gaze unflinchingly, maybe daringly. His smile appears slowly. It is too gentle to be lecherous, tender despite the fact his gloved hand runs over his belt and tugs. His tongue touches his bottom lip and he tips his head the other way.

His presence startles you for a moment. You should feel caught, or embarrassed, or something. But the initial surprise fades and you just stare back at him. You dig your fingers into Jisung’s hair and breathe harder as he strokes and strokes and strokes you with his tongue.

Felix exhales. His smile is still soft. He lifts a darkly gloved hand and gestures to you, curling two fingers, a suggestive come here.

Then Jisung’s hand goes from your thigh to your pussy, two fingers curling inside you without any resistance. Felix’s smile curves into a pleased, satisfied smirk. He nods.

You come, holding Jisung’s face against your pussy, letting him moan and whimper with his own pleasure as you roughly fuck his mouth. When he lifts his head, his mouth is so obscenely wet that you throb with a renewed ache of desire.

“I think you’re ready now,” Jisung says. He lowers your legs and slowly slides his fingers out of you. Your breath catches, swallowing up a sound of a surprise when he uses both thumbs to spread your pussy open to his gaze – his and Felix. Your head feels fuzzy and not with faerie magic.

“I think so,” Felix says.

Jisung does not seem surprised by his voice. He lets you go, your dress falling back over your lap. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and looks over his shoulder at Felix. Felix approaches, his steps silent despite his big black boots.

You watch. Jisung’s bottom lip twitches. He looks up at Felix with the same hazy intoxication he looked at you. Felix bites the tip of a glove, pulling the fabric off with his teeth, then he swipes his thumb across Jisung’s glistening mouth. Felix brings that thumb to his own bottom lip, his tongue only just swiping the tip of it.

Then Hyunjin struts into the alcove and slaps a shocked hand over his mouth.

“What are you doing?” he demands. You think he is going to remark on the man kneeling at your feet, not to mention your sexually dishevelled appearance, but then he says, “Felix. You’re supposed to have a hat.”

“I don’t need a hat, Hyunjin,” Felix says with a sigh. “I would like to talk to my bride for a minute.”

“That is impossible,” Hyunjin says. “You need a hat. Come with me.”

It occurs to you that you are watching the two most emotional faeries in their courts, even if those emotions are aimed in strange directions, like hats. Because Hyunjin is very adamant and Felix is very annoyed. You are more than a little concerned that if things come to a head, it will turn horrifying without much effort.

Then Jisung leaps to his feet and puts himself between the two faerie princes. It surprises everyone to silence. Even Hyunjin stumbles to a stop. He cocks his head like a predator regards a measly scrap of prey, eyes flashing as he takes a menacing step forward.

Felix has no time to react. You have no chance to scream.

Jisung is a step ahead of everyone.

He bows. Hyunjin stumbles to a stop for a second time. It takes him a second to realize what has happened but when he does his eye twitches. He bows back, then straightens with a huff.

Jisung bows again. You slap a hand over your mouth to hide your surprised laugh. Hyunjin looks far less amused. Glaring, he bows too, as per the rules of politeness.

Jisung leaps to the side and bows again, forcing Hyunjin to follow him. He does this twice more, leading Hyunjin to the exit, bowing back and forth the whole time.

“Make him stop!” Hyunjin shrieks.

“Okay, okay!” Jisung says, hands raised in surrender. He bows one more time, swooping low, then he turns and runs as fast as he can.

Hyunjin, obliged to return the bow, goes chasing after him with a frantic yelp.

“Is he gonna be okay?” you ask, springing to your feet. You dress falls neatly down.

“Yes,” Felix says. “Hyunjin won’t hurt humans. He likes them too much.” He turns to you then, his expression returned to a more passive neutrality, though you do not miss the way he looks you over. “Will you be okay?” he asks. “I’m sorry. I thought we would have more time when we got here. I didn’t know they would do this.”

“It’s okay,” you say, too shy for a conversation after he very much watched you orgasm. “Um. Might as well, I guess… get it out of the way.”

“Yes.” He frowns at this, turning aside. “You want to… get it out of the way. I understand. I’m sorry it had to be this way. You don’t want to marry me.”

He says it so plainly and without any hesitation. He must believe it is the absolute truth. For a moment, you can only stare at him, his handsome profile, the tendrils of sadness that tug at his features. How did you never see it before?

“Felix,” you say gently. He does not look at you. You touch his arm and he looks at your hand. “Felix, I am happy to marry you. I love you.” He looks up at that, his brow furrowed. “And Jisung,” you add. “I’m… I’m glad it happened this way. So that you and I—” He turns to you and your heart skips a few beats, affected by the warmth of his steady gaze. “So that you and I could come together as well. And now the three of us—”

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, then looks aside. “I’m sorry. That was forward, yeah? I just… don’t want the first time to be out there. Is that strange? To be honest, sometimes I don’t know what’s strange or what isn’t. The rules are different everywhere, you know? I don’t think I’m doing a good job of this. I’m sorry. We don’t have to—”

You cup his face and kiss him. It is very stiff for a moment, because you are both surprised by your brazen action. He somehow grounds himself first, a careful hand curling around your hip to guide you a little closer. A breath passes between you then he kisses you back.

You touch his chest, making a sweet small sound into the kiss when his lips slide so softly against yours. You are about to deepen it when Jisung interrupts with, “Aww, you’re kissing! So cute!”

You and Felix look over at him. His hands are clasped and he is gushing as only Jisung can.

“I thought you were running,” Felix says, with a hint of amusement.

“Stupid labyrinth led me back here,” Jisung says. He mimes zipping his lips shut and gestures to you. “Keep kissing. Pretend I’m not here.”

“I wouldn’t want to pretend that,” Felix says, so sincerely that Jisung’s eyes widen. They look at each other for a long moment, then Felix looks at you. He cups your face.

Then Hyunjin comes running in. He swings his arms in a dramatic flail and flower petals fly everywhere. The leaf dog comes running in and starts nipping at the air, trying to catch the petals. In the midst of this chaos, Hyunjin storms up to Jisung and promptly bows. Then he shoves him to the side and grabs Felix by the arm.

“Hat!” he shouts. “Now!”

It is a twenty-six hour wedding ceremony. You and Jisung fall asleep halfway through festivity number twelve, curled up under a furry blanket near a fire pit. You wake when Felix lifts your head into his lap. Jisung is already curled up with his head on your belly, so you smile and snuggle into Felix. He cups your face and strokes your cheek, the flickering firelight casting shadows on his face, making his smile seem bigger than usual.

The consummation ritual is last. It takes place inside the castle, in a beautiful room that appears to have been designed for this express purpose. The mossy stone walls are decorated with dried flowers, the plush bed laden with thick red throws and burgundy cushions. Despite the tall open windows, there is no autumn chill, a lit fireplace cozying the room with its warmth.

It would be a lovely chamber if not for the translucent curtain with a literal audience behind it. The winter and summer princes sit ramrod straight, so uninterested in their surroundings that it actually puts you at ease. Hyunjin looks… a little too eager to be honest, but you aren’t convinced he understands this ritual anymore than anything else today.

Jisung is side-eying Jeongin, who is sitting beside him because Hyunjin refused to sit by ‘the annoying changeling brat’. Minho is sitting between Jeongin and Hyunjin, casting the occasional side-eye to the spring prince. Despite his stoic countenance, his displeasure with the company is clear.

Honestly, the whole tableau is quite comedic. You find yourself trying to stifle laughter when Felix finally arrives. You were sent to separate rooms to undress and change into robes, but you arrived here first. Felix looks at you curiously, clearly perplexed by your laughter.

“You’re not nervous anymore,” he observes.

“No,” you say. “I’ve just been thinking like a faerie.”

He tilts his head at that. You smile and kiss him, a chaste kiss that makes his lashes flutter. The little reaction tickles a flurry of butterflies in your belly. You hold his hand and lead him to the bed where you sit down. His eyes shift with a nervous scuttle, but he follows the direction of your hand when you gesture to him.

You keep your eyes on his, intensely locked as you lift his hand and take two fingers in your mouth. When you close your lips around his fingers and gently suck, his breath catches. It echoes in Jisung.

Then Jeongin whispers loudly, “Is she going to eat him?” He sounds moderately intrigued.

“Be quiet,” Hyunjin replies.

“I think it’s over,” Minho says, catching onto your ruse before anyone else.

You smile and open your eyes. You separate from Felix and turn your head to the silhouettes beyond the curtain.

“A penetrative performance,” you state. “I believe that was the requirement. And I believe that should qualify.”

You are stretching the meaning of those words and you know it, but that’s what faeries do. His fingers ‘penetrated’ the breach of your mouth, so it should count on the most technical level.

“All done,” you say with a smile and wave.

“So you’re not eating him?” Jeongin says, frowning.

Minho is the first one to stand. He flicks Jeongin’s forehead as he passes, but otherwise says nothing before fleeing the room. Jeongin follows with a slightly disgruntled shuffle, then Hyunjin stomps his foot.

“Humans,” he says, marching past Jisung.

The door closes behind Hyunjin. Jisung claps a hand over his mouth and laughs into it, so hard he has to put a hand over his stomach as he doubles over. Felix laughs too, a pleasantly low rumble that he tries to stifle with a cough. You smile up at him, leaning back on your palms and admiring him in the warm orange light. He tucks some hair behind his ear, regarding you with a very tender gaze when he nods his head in a curt little bow.

“All done,” he says. It makes your brow furrow: the little shift in tone, the tension that still draws his shoulders back. You realize that even after everything, he is still uncertain about his place. Even Jisung knows where he belongs, not for a moment thinking he should leave the room, but Felix takes a step away from the bed like he intends to do just that.

You grab his hand, drawing his attention back to you. Blonde hair falls around his face, shadowing it. He doesn’t quite meet your eyes, gaze somewhere on your chin.

“Felix,” you say. His fingers tighten around yours and it feels like a question. You answer by tugging that hand, drawing him closer. His eyes flash gold when you drop his hand to open your robe. This time you can hear Jisung’s sharp breath too, all laughter subsiding as you let the robe fall off your shoulders, laying yourself bare before Felix.

He looks awed but stricken. You can see when he swallows. He looks at Jisung then back at you, his brow furrowing. His lips twitch in a bid to speak but no words come.

It would be funny, this supernatural being somehow struck dumb by you in your most vulnerable state, but your smile is more affectionate than amused.

“Felix,” you say again. “Have you ever done something like this before?”

He shakes his head frantically, his eyes still running up and down your body.

“No,” he says. “Uh, no. No. I can – feel something when Jisung – when you – I mean—” He chokes on an awkward laugh, turning away for a second.

“I fucking knew it!” Jisung says, poking his head between the folds of the curtain. “Bro, you’re such a liar. I asked if you could feel when we fuck and you said no!”

“I can’t lie,” Felix replies, turning to Jisung. He forgets to be embarrassed while arguing, very plainly and patiently stating his case. “I told you most faeries don’t think about sex like humans and that I couldn’t be certain what you were doing, yeah? And I can’t. And I would have told you more but you only asked the first time and I didn’t know you were going to keep… being with her. And I – I didn’t want to make things awkward… for you… okay? By thinking of me every time… so I just… What are you smiling at?” His deep voice breaks, pitching comically higher for a second.

Jisung is smirking and nodding, just a floating head with a vague silhouetted body behind the curtain.

“Man,” Jisung says, “you’ve been acting like a monk but secretly jacking it while we get freaky in the other room… That’s naughty.”

Felix draws his mouth into a flat line then looks at you for help. You are trying to hold in your giggles, lips pressed tight together. When he looks at you, you exhale, waving at Jisung to back down for a second. He ducks behind the curtain again, giggling to himself like the menace he is.

Fortunately, Felix is easy to distract. All it takes is opening your legs for his all his attention to zero in there. He swallows again.

“Sounds like we’ve been teasing you too long,” you say, your voice drawing his eyes back up to your face. You smile and beckon him forward. “Come on. Let me make it up to you.”

He looks like he is going to deflect politely, either because he is a faerie or because he is Felix, but then you grab his robe and yank him closer. He stumbles up to you, his fingers fluttering at his sides and his shoulders still tense. You take one of his hands and place it on the side of your face, soothing him with another gentle smile as you unknot his robe.

He is already very hard and this seems to fluster him, but he points to the curtain and sputters, “He’s – touching—“

“Fuck yeah I am,” Jisung says.

“Jisung, shh,” you say, trying not to giggle again. “And slow down. You’re always so impatient.”

“Am not,” Jisung says, but you can see him lean back, folding his hands behind his head.

You look up at Felix, holding his gaze the way you did when you sucked his fingers. You like the way he twitches and breathes harder, the way his eyes flash, the way his jaw clenches. His thumb curls under your jaw when your mouth slides over him. You can’t help but moan when his whole face contorts with more natural emotion than you have ever seen from him. His breath stutters and stops and starts, his sounds so low and guttural that you feel them inside you.

“Oh, fuck, dude,” Jisung says, rasping. You pull back just a little, drooling and stroking with your hand, and glancing at Jisung out of the corner of your eye. He lifts his hips and squeezes himself over his pants. “We were fucking torturing you, holy fuck.”

“Mmmmrrgh,” is the approximate sound Felix makes. His eyes are partially-lidded, his expression one of immense concentration. He pulls your face back to him with a flick of his wrist. Appetent and quite demanding, he leads your mouth back onto him and holds you in place to shallowly and gently fuck your mouth. He makes a pleased sound, one of deep relief, his head lolling back and the tension leaving his shoulders.

You let him set the pace, matching the animal instinct that overcomes him. He stops himself when he’s close, breathing hard and stepping back. You want to ask if he is okay, but you have to flex your jaw and your voice is momentarily shot. Before you can find that voice, he turns to the curtain and says, “Show me what you did earlier. I want – I want to do that too.”

There is a quiet moment, Jisung maybe surprised at the sudden attention, but then the curtain parts and Jisung steps all the way through. He has unbuttoned his shirt to the navel, his partially unzipped pants doing nothing to hide the bulge behind his fly. The sight of him sets off more sparks, especially when he winks at you with all his cheeky wantonness.

Felix gives Jisung a once-over too, pushing a hand through his hair and steadying his breathing. His features look sharper than ever, darkened with a determined resolve. He says nothing when Jisung sweeps behind him. Jisung wiggles his eyebrows at you while he gathers Felix’s robe and slides it off his shoulders.

“She likes your freckles,” Jisung offers by way of explanation, smooching Felix’s freckled shoulder with a playful little mwah.

Felix tilts his head and looks at you. “Really?” he asks. “I can’t fully scrub them off the glamour. I think it’s somehow your fault.” This is aimed at Jisung.

“Everything’s my fault!” Jisung says with a great deal of pride.

“Why would you want to get rid of them?” you blurt, showing just as much as horror as you did when meeting the cannibal faerie. Felix without his freckles is equally abhorrent.

Felix looks at you, thoughtfully. Firelight is flickering over the room but you do not think it is a trick of shadow when his freckles seem to darken everywhere.

“Aw,” Jisung says. “He’s flirting.”

Felix looks at him with a certain degree of exasperation. “Show me what I asked,” he says.

“Oh, wow, okay, geez, pushy,” Jisung says, circling so he standing beside Felix. Felix drops the rest of the robe, evidently not the slightest bit shy to be standing there naked. Now your gaze is the roving one, jumping between them, darting upward when Jisung cups Felix’s face and turns it to him.

“You need to turn her on first, man,” Jisung says, swaying to the playful rhythm of his own voice. Felix follows, but his eyes narrow into judgemental slits. Jisung seems unbothered by this, standing still, tucking some hair behind Felix’s ear. “C’mooon,” he says, with an impatient little shoulder wiggle and a laugh. “She likes you… she likes me… as they say… badda bing badda boom…”

“I don’t think they say that during sex,” Felix says, frowning.

“He’s right,” you say, giggling.

Jisung sighs and looks at you. “No audience participation,” he says, miming a zip across his lips. “Just sit there and look pretty, baby. We’ll get to you.”

Felix looks at you. Jisung leans close to whisper in his ear. You try to decipher what he is saying based on Felix, but all Felix does is furrow his eyebrows then look sideways at Jisung. There is a moment of quiet, then they smile at the same time.

Felix delicately cups Jisung’s chin.

The last time you caught them kissing, it spurred only jealousy. But that was different. That was your childish reaction to exclusion, your own anxieties speaking over everything else. This time, you are not outside of their connection. You even swear you can feel the faintest tingling on your own lips when they gently come together in a feather-light kiss.

Their hands trace similar paths, Felix’s slipping into Jisung’s pants and Jisung touching him back. The kiss deepens until their tongues touch, then Jisung giggles while Felix grins. They look at you at the same time.

“Go,” Jisung says, nudging Felix forward.

They let go of each other and Felix climbs up on the bed, guiding you backwards until your head is on a pillow. Long tendrils of blonde hair brush your cheeks. He lays over you and kisses you, pressing your head into the cushion. Even lost in his kiss, you can sense Jisung with a fuzzy awareness. You recognize the familiar touch of his palm, his hand gliding up your inner thigh. Felix makes room, joining Jisung at your thighs. You twitch with an instinctive little jerk, pushing yourself up on your elbows to look at them. Jisung puts a finger over his lips and shushes you, smiling.

“We got it, we got it…” he says. He cups the back of Felix’s head and pushes his head down to your pussy.

Felix glances up at you, then him, then down. His eyes close and he sticks out his tongue, his expression one of the sweetest pleasure when he puts his mouth on you. What he lacks in skill, he compensates with eagerness, messily diving in with an open mouth, licking and kissing and making a mess of himself. Jisung threads his fingers into his hair and tugs, laughing a little.

“Easy, easy,” he says. He and Felix look at each other as Jisung lowers his own face. When he puts his expert mouth on you, your head falls back, thighs parting further. You throw your arms over your head and dig your fingers into the cushions. You chase the rhythm of his tongue, looking down when it stops, when Felix replaces him.

“See, look at her,” Jisung says. Felix looks up at you. “Just like that.”

Then Jisung joins him. They torturously alternate whose mouth is on you. Jisung dives at Felix, licking across his wet lips and kissing him before returning to you. You can hardly tell one mouth from the next, gasping under two tongues as they stroke you and each other, matching blonde heads bobbing in perfect coordination between your thighs. It is inhumanly perfect, so harmonious that it almost agonizing. This is how mortals lose their minds here, you think.

Eventually you are so wound up that you can’t help but cry out.

“Oh noo,” Jisung says, very unrepentant as lays beside you. “I think we were teasing her… That’s so mean of us, isn’t it, baby? Huh?” He pinches your face in his hand, cooing at you while you playfully glare. He giggles and kisses you, your own wet desire smeared across his lips. “You’re so wet, baby,” he says, sliding his hand down your body and over your pussy, easing his fingers through the wetness there. When you whimper, he whimpers back in faux sympathy, pouting and nodding. “I know, poor baby,” he says, curling his fingers inside you.

Felix’s eyes light up, watching. He props himself up on one hand and touches you with the other. You make a sound against Jisung’s mouth, a breathy moan as Felix slides his fingers in too. It’s thick, that many fingers at once and so suddenly. Your thighs jerk and you whine into Jisung’s mouth. You see stars when you close your eyes, their fingers moving at the same time inside you. They share a heartbeat, a rhythm, not faulting in the slightest.

For a moment, you just lay there and dizzily take it, stretched around their fingers, wet and silky hot and so turned on that you feel like you’re floating.

“Jisung,” Felix says in his rough, deep voice.

“I know,” Jisung replies, just as hoarse.

Their fingers leave you and Jisung grabs your throat with that same hand, slick fingers nudging your chin to look at him. Your breath catches and you think Felix’s breath catches too.

“That’s my girl,” Jisung says, reaching down at the same Felix reaches up, a hand on each breast, teasing the pebbled peaks. You squirm and Jisung returns his hand to your throat, smiling at you so innocently, scrunching up his eyes with delight. “Good girl,” he says, squeezing. Felix gasps then moans, sucking kisses wherever his mouth lazily roams. Jisung places those same hot kisses on your neck, each kiss landing one after the other, lighting every nerve. Teeth and tongue lave at your skin, no doubt bruising it with each little love bite.

“That’s it,” Jisung says, and you really start to think your human boyfriend is made of more magic than autumnal flurries. His dark eyes sparkle in the light, his mischievous smirk lighting up his handsome face. He is so giggly and sweet despite the dastardly torture of his hands and mouth.

You find yourself sinking into the sensations, eyes closed, body running on instinct.

“Felix,” Jisung says. His hand leaves your throat, sliding down your body. You realize he is spreading your pussy lips again, teasing as Felix pushes inside you. It is easy now that you have taken so many fingers, but the knowledge of what is happening, of who is fucking you, makes your breath stutter and eyes open.

“Ohh,” is the only sound you can make, watery eyes on where Felix is moving slowly in and out of you. His brow is furrowed again, that look of concentration, then he groans and all but sprawls on top of you, fucking you with messy abandon. Jisung thumps his head heavily onto the cushion, panting heavily, as if he was fucking you.

“Felix, you gotta—” Jisung says, his own face twisted up with a tortured sort of pleasure. Felix does not listen to him, still rocking his hips with a frantic unevenness. It feels good and crazy and wild, your head lolling to the side, a hum in your throat.

Jisung finds the resolve to push himself up, groaning with the effort. You watch him roughly manhandle Felix, yanking his head up to get him to concentrate. Felix’s eyes flash gold then go dark. His mouth is hanging open and his cheeks are flushed. He never stops moving.

“And you said I was impatient,” Jisung murmurs, grabbing Felix’s hips and evening out his rhythm. You suppose it stands to reason that if Jisung is the most pussy-drunk man you have ever known, than Felix would be too. Except Felix actually is magic, and everything about Jisung seems to multiply in Felix. He looks completely overcome. Then Jisung suddenly asks, “Good tears or bad?”

“Good,” Felix rasps.

“So you wanna keep going?”

“Ye-es,” Felix hiccups, then suddenly starts crying, all the messy human-ness mixing with his confusing faerie-ness, coming together in an explosive physical and emotional mania that has him burying his face in your neck and fucking you so deep and hard that your own sniffles start.

“Yes,” you say at the same time as him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Jisung touches your hand, his other still guiding Felix’s hips. Felix moans in your throat then marginally turns his head.

“Jisung,” he says. “I can’t—unless you—”

Jisung very unceremoniously shoves a hand down his pants, then looks up at you and smiles.

“Okay,” Jisung says. He moves and Felix sinks back inside you, moaning deeply, clutching you possessively. You hold him back as fiercely, blinking up at Jisung when kneels near your face. “Come on, baby,” Jisung says, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip.

“Yes,” Felix says, nodding at him and at you.

You open your mouth, nodding at Jisung. His pants get tossed somewhere and he removes his shirt at the same time his dick pushes past your lips. They really do fuck with an extraordinary identicalness, perfectly matched without a word. It is easy to fall into their rhythm, not even straining. You feel like you were born to be here, between them, sharing them, sharing yourself with them.

They come at the same time, Felix with his cheek pressed to yours, Jisung with his head thrown back. They lay down on either side of you, flopping back at the same time. Felix has a completely dazed look on his face, his breath stuttering when you tuck some of his sweaty hair back. He looks at you like he is seeing you for the first time all over again.

All three of you exhale at once. The resulting giggle comes in three-way unison too.

“Wow,” Felix finally says. “It’s much more fun like this.”

“Hell yeah,” Jisung says, holding out his fist for a bump. You swat it down before Felix can return it. Jisung just laughs, snuggling up to you.

Felix also rolls onto his side. He tucks one hand under his head and touches your face with the other. You and Jisung both look at him, his faraway stare, the way a small smile unfurls on his face.

“You’re mine now,” he says. “Forever. Yeah?” It’s posed like a question but evidently it is already fact to him, or he could not say it.

“Forever and ever,” Jisung says easily, stretching out on the royal bedsheets like he has always belonged there.

Felix looks at you for an answer too, still smiling. You are not as easy as Jisung, but you try hard not to overthink.

But you remember so many stories of humans wandering in the faerie world, never seen or heard from again, the tales of their disappearances ranging from beautiful to horrifying. You think it would be impudent to think yourself different or better than them. They thought they were safe too.

The question tumbles past your lips before you can think twice:

“Your true name,” you say. “Would you still give it to me if I asked?”

He clearly does not expect the question. He blinks quickly, then his gaze darts to the side. You look there to see Jisung nodding off, already half-asleep on your shoulder. Felix is not sleeping. You look at him, wondering still about the sometimes contradictory depth of their connection.

“Aren’t you tired too?” you ask.

“A little,” he says.

You realize he didn’t answer your other question and you open your mouth to ask again. He kisses you, cupping your face, making a happy sound when you kiss him back. Jisung makes his own little happy sound, sighing on your shoulder.

“I love you,” Felix says, speaking soft and low against your lips. He strokes the side of your face. “I want you to stay with me forever.”

“You’d really tell me your true name?” you ask.

“I’d do anything for you,” he says. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Felix,” you say, about to say more when he kisses you again. He smiles so big and bright, it crinkles the corner of his eyes.

“You do,” he says. “That’s the truth. You love me like you love him.”

“It’s the same but different,” you say. “Like how you love both me and Jisung.”

He is still smiling. He kisses the corner of your mouth sweetly. “The same but different,” he says. “Yes. I understand.”

He draws you into his arms and kisses the crown of your head, sighing a happy sigh. Jisung curls up behind you, already fast asleep while Felix murmurs sweet love confessions at you until you fall asleep too, nestled tightly and safely in his arms.

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