#fey exophilia

[otherworldly-tresses]

Sitting on the lap of a powerful court fey while they run their land and hold public audience. Every now and then, they run a hand absently through your hair or kiss you on top of the head, while you lay against them and grind your thighs together every time their fingers brush against your skin

[jplupine]

⛓In the Wolf's Den: Chapter 13⛓

Pairing: The Weeping Monk x Devin [Nonbinary Fey OC] Word Count: ~4.2k WARNINGS: 18+ Minors/Ageless get blocked, Exophilia, Feral Behavior, Size Difference, Heat, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Marking, Getting Caught, Creampie Note: Terms such as pussy/cock/dick/etc. get used. If that makes you uncomfortable, you might want to skip this fic.

Summary: Devin makes it to the Fey safe haven only to realize they had lost track of time. Thankfully, Devin now has the help they need.

You can also read it on AO3!

Masterlist | Chapter 13:

  It hit a day after docking. I had woken up with a fever and locked the door to my room. I sealed the windows the best I could and kept the room dark.

  Even though I knew this was coming from all the tell-tale signs, I had hoped to have a few extra days to prepare. I wasn't ready in the slightest. I had no stored food nor water in here, and going to the market would be too big of a gamble.

  What the fuck was I supposed to do now? Starve? I couldn't.

  Maybe if I wished hard enough, Lancelot would hopefully notice my absence and bring me food. However, I could only imagine what he must be dealing with right now since he was among all of the Fey while being known as the Weeping Monk. I had wanted to help him, but I couldn't do much of anything right now.

  The gods must have wanted to rub my horrible predicament in my face when there was a knock at my door. I groaned while burying my face into the pillow. Maybe if I pretended I wasn't here, they'd leave me alone.

  "I know you're in there. I can hear you." Lancelot's voice came from the other side of the door, and my heart raced. My ears went flat against my skull as I bit my bottom lip in an attempt to muffle how I whimpered. I was torn on what to do.

  Should I unlock the door and let him in, or keep him out?

  "Devin?" He sounded uncertain and concerned. Had he heard my quiet whimper, too? Fuck, I should've known better. If he could hear the howling from the Wolf Folk village all the way in my cave, no wonder he could hear me now even as I was trying to be quiet. "Devin, are you okay?"

  I buried my face deeper in the pillow. Maybe he'd think I was still asleep if I didn't make any other noise.

  My ears twitched when I heard metallic clicking. I quickly looked up when the door was swung open. Lancelot stood there and froze as soon as his eyes landed on me.

  His gaze slowly wandered over my naked body laying across the bed. Lancelot's pupils widened, and he swallowed after breathing in. He closed the door behind himself before clearing his throat and putting his hands on his hips.

  "Sorry. I, uh, thought you were hurt."

  "Did you just pick that lock?"

  "Again, I thought you were hurt." Lancelot shifted on his feet as he glanced at the closed windows. "I-I can leave if you-"

  "No." I cut him off while sitting up. His scent was driving me wild, and since he was already here, I might as well accept the opportunity presented. "Stay. Please."

  Lancelot's eyes fell to my bare chest, seeing how much it had swollen due to my hormones. His brows slowly knit together before realization dawned on his face.

  "Before you ask, the answer is yes. Heats cause Wolf Folk breasts to enlarge. Pregnancy moreso. Did you really never notice?"

  "I, uh, I assumed my memory must've been mistaken when I saw you were....smaller than our first encounter." Lancelot swallowed again. "Are you sure you want me to stay? You're in heat."

  "Either you stay, or I remain locked in this room, miserable and alone. Please, help me." I said while spreading my legs. Lancelot saw how wet I was, and his breath shook.

  He kicked off his shoes and quickly loosened the strings of his jerkin to get it off. Belts for weapons clattered to the floor as he crossed the room. Lancelot was naked by the time he reached the edge of the bed, and he pushed me to lay down.

  His lips were on mine as I pulled his hair free of the leather strip. His rough palms were on my skin, and I leaned into his touch. My body was aching for him as a fire burned beneath my skin.

  It was hard to believe a year had already passed from the first time I had met Lancelot. It was wilder to think about what all had happened in just that time.

  Lancelot kissed along my jaw and down my neck. There was a possessive growl when his tongue curled over my throat, and I leaned my head back for him. I loved the way his mouth felt on my skin as he nipped and left hickeys in his wake.

  He ground his hips against mine, letting me feel how hard he was before his face went lower. He licked from the base of my throat to my jaw, and electricity danced across my skin.

  "I love you." I panted as one of his hands slid down my stomach.

  "I love you, too." His breath was hot against my skin. "Embrace me so that I may feel heavenly bliss once more, my sweet shepherd." Lancelot whispered near my ear. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I pulled him closer before moaning from his fingers sliding over my clit.

  My fingers slid into his long hair as he pushed his fingers inside. I moaned when they curled, and Lancelot smirked while looking down at me.

  "Oh, how the angels sing through your lips." His tone was nearly a purr as he praised me in his blasphemous way. "Such sweet music." Lancelot made me moan again as my back arched off the bed.

  "Stop teasing me." I panted, and Lancelot kissed my cheek. He pulled his fingers free before lining up his cock.

  "'I am my beloved's," He groaned from thrusting in, and I moaned. "'and my beloved is mine.'" Lancelot had such a gentle tone as his forehead rested against mine. He took in a slow breath through his nose before rocking his hips back. "Mine." He growled while snapping his hips into me.

  Lancelot placed one of his large hands on my collarbone as his fingers rested around the base of my throat. He looked down at me with such predatorial eyes. His long hair fell over his shoulders as he kept thrusting and had me pinned against the bed.

  My toes curled as I moaned and dug my claws into the blanket.

  "Fuck~! Lance- Oh, fuck! Right there! Right ther- Aaahh~!" My back arched as my head lolled back. My heat had been chipping away at him, and he was finally crumbling and falling into rut as he thrust with such feral need.

  Lancelot bared his teeth while growling, and the state he was in only turned me on more. The rumbling from his chest had me shivering in delight. He grabbed the back of my knees to push my legs toward my chest.

  The new position allowed him to go deeper, and I cried out as my toes splayed. His balls smacked against my ass with each thrust, and I could feel the pressure rising. The old wood of the bed was creaking in protest from his lack of delicacy.

  However, Lancelot's heavy thrusting lost rhythm, and I growled out of frustration.

  He huffed before dropping my legs around his hips. He slid his arms under my back before picking me up with such ease. We were chest to chest while locking eyes.

  "Gods, you are beautiful." I whispered while cupping his face in my hands.

  "Such praise from your lips."

  "You think me beautiful as well?" The corners of my mouth curled upward.

  "Utterly divine." Lancelot panted before dropping me a few inches to have his cock buried to the hilt inside me. I moaned as my eyes closed, and he grabbed my ass in a firm grip to lift me up. "Are you still haunted by me?" His voice was low, and I looked at him.

  "Whenever you are away from me. The ghost of your touch finds me even in my dreams."

  "You still dream of me?"

  "Often, mo chroí." I managed to say before moaning. Lancelot slightly tilted his head to the side.

  "Mo chroí?"

  "My heart." Hearing what it meant, Lancelot smiled. He kissed me and groaned while holding me closer to his chest. He snapped his hips as his tongue slid into my mouth.

  I could do little more than hold on to him as he fucked me. I could feel the pressure building again, and I moaned into the kiss. Lancelot's blunt nails dug into my skin, making me softly growl.

  He responded in kind without stopping. He was keeping the same wild pace, and it was pushing me closer to the edge. Our breathing was coming so heavily as saliva stretched between our bottom lips.

  There was something so erotically satisfying about seeing Lancelot with flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. Listening to him grunt and groan had my thighs squeezing his sides. I swallowed and panted before moaning again.

  Lancelot slipped one of his hands between us, and my claws dug into his skin from his thumb rubbing my clit. Biting my bottom lip, I was turned into a moaning and whimpering mess in his arms. My ears were flat against my skull as I was so fucking close to falling apart.

  He knew I was about to cum if he kept up what he was doing, and he picked up the pace because he himself was nearing the edge. Lancelot held me firmly while slamming his cock into me. I cried out when he bit me, and his low growl was the last straw for me as he rubbed my clit.

  My orgasm left me shaking and moaning that I barely noticed how Lancelot's teeth were drawing blood. He groaned into my skin, and cum was dripping onto the bed.

  There was a moment where only the sound of our heavy breathing could be heard in the room. Calm washed over me, and I rested my head on his shoulder. Lancelot wrapped his arms around me and hummed while burying his face into my neck.

  "I'm so hungry." I mumbled, and he chuckled.

  "How about I fetch you something, then?" Lancelot suggested.

  "That would be lovely." I was smiling while playing with his hair.

  We both jolted when the door suddenly slammed open. The man standing there was tall and looked thoroughly pissed. He had a staff with a sword strapped to his hip, but he didn't attack us with either as he instead balked.

  The anger in his eyes turned into shock as he looked at us. Lancelot slowly grabbed the pillow to cover as much of our naked bodies as possible before clearing his throat.

  "I guess I forgot to lock the door back." He whispered.

  "Oh." The tall man seemed at a loss for words. "Oh." His eyebrows raised high on his forehead. "I.... We need to talk." He looked right at Lancelot.

  "Can it not wait?" I asked, and the awkward tension in the air grew thicker. The man glanced at Lancelot's clothes scattered across the floor before grabbing the doorknob.

  "Get dressed." He ordered, and the door was shut.

  "....I think that was Merlin." Lancelot muttered and swallowed.

  "If it is....good news."

  "How is that good news?" He looked at me with furrowed brows.

  "He just caught you in bed with a Fey. That proves you're not the same as before."

  "That's your takeaway from this?"

  "Lancelot, I'm in heat. All I can really think about right now is fucking you until this bed is but kindling." My tone was low, and his gaze dropped to my mouth. He licked his lips hungrily as he slowly leaned in closer.

  However, he quickly pulled away while shaking his head.

  "Don't look at me like that." He dropped me on the bed before getting up and snatching his trousers from the floor. "He looked angry, and I need to think clearly."

  "Good luck."

  "Devin." He had a firm tone, and I rolled onto my side.

  "I'm serious. You're covered in my scent now." He heavily sighed when he realized it was true. So, even when he left the room, he'd still be able to smell me and my heat on himself.

  Lancelot continued getting dressed before picking up the leather strip for his hair. He pulled it up in a quick bun that looked like a mess as he rushed toward the door to not make Merlin wait any longer.

  I sighed while stretching out my legs. Curling up with the pillow, I laid there until Lancelot's return.

  I woke up to a plate of food being held in front of my face. I hadn't even realized I'd fallen asleep. Sitting up, I took the plate and began to devour the fruit and poultry.

  "Merlin's anger runs deep." Lancelot stated as he was crouched next to the bed.

  "....Will you be okay?" I paused while looking at him.

  "I will be. His anger is not directed at me, per se. I think Percival talked to him."

  "What makes you think that?"

  "He knew things he should not." Lancelot moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "I think he's also grieving."

  "We've lost many to the Red Paladins. That's no surprise." I ate some more of the chicken. "If he is not angry with you as you say, what did he want?"

  "Plans. Tactics." Lancelot rested his elbows on his knees. "With my absence and Father Carden's death, their progress has greatly slowed. I still remember the maps and planned routes, and word will be sent to the Fey villages most at risk."

  "There's something else you're not telling me." I said while tearing apart some bread. He looked at me and rubbed his hand over his jaw.

  "Well, he, uh," Lancelot cleared his throat. "He wanted to address our 'situation'."

  "Situation?" I chuckled, and he averted his gaze while looking embarrassed.

  "You're clearly Fey, Devin. He wouldn't ignore catching us in bed together."

  "And what did you tell him?" I set the plate to the side. "Did you try to save your Christian dignity by claiming I seduced you? I would understand if you had." Crawling closer to him, I saw that he was blushing.

  "I didn't."

  "Then? How did you explain yourself?"

  "I....said that we are lovers." He looked at me, and our faces were only inches apart. "I may struggle with myself and how I feel, but I am learning. I refused to stand by and let you be taken by Odhran. I will not disavow you now to Merlin."

  "That we are lovers...." I muttered while smiling.

  "Should I not have said that?"

  "Does it look as if I am upset with that?"

  "You look happy."

  "I am." My tail swayed, and Lancelot began to smile.

  "You love me that much?"

  "Having you declare to someone else that I am your beloved warms my heart, and if you so much as wish it, I will do the same. I love you deeply, Lancelot." Placing my fingers under his chin, I turned his face more in my direction to kiss him.

  "It's so different." He whispered.

  "What is?"

  "Every time you say you love me, I can feel it."

  "Shall I say it more?"

  "Say it as much as you please."

  "If I do, I may never shut up." Lancelot chuckled at my words, and I climbed onto his lap. "Did you remember to lock the door this time?"

  "I did."

  "Then it's safe to assume you don't plan on leaving soon?"

  "How could I with you in such a needy state?" He settled his hands on my hips as I opened the front of his trousers. "The entire time I was gone, I was eager to return. You plagued my thoughts."

  "Did I now?" My tone sounded nearly like a purr as I reached into his trousers to find his cock. His breath faltered as his grip on me tightened.

  "Devin...."

  "What is it, mo chroí?"

  "I want you to know, I will do everything within my power to hold my promise to you."

  "I would hope so. I've come a far way on your word, Lancelot." I kissed him again, and he suddenly stood. He gently placed my feet on the floor before pulling his clothes off. When he grabbed me to pull me closer, he spun me around to have my back against him.

  "You smell so damn good." Lancelot rested his cheek against my temple, and his scruffy jaw was rough against my skin. His hands ran up my sides before he squeezed my chest. My tail lifted as my ass pressed against him, and a whimper came from the back of my throat. "Memories cannot compare to truly having you in my arms, my love." He whispered while pinching my nipples.

  My breath faltered as my ears flattened.

  "That's right. I still remember every way you told me to touch you. I could never forget what made you cry out in such beautiful ways.... What made you writhe beneath me." His tone dropped as he squeezed again. My thighs pressed together as I was leaning into his touch.

  "Then what are you waiting for?"

  "I like to hear how you whimper for me." He pinched my nipples to make me whine before his rough palms went down my torso. His hands slid between my legs and forced them apart. Lancelot breathed in through his nose and growled.

  His fingers went over my pussy to gather up slick. Raising his hand, he spread his fingers to show the clear fluid stretching between his digits.

  "Hmm.... Shall I stop here?"

  "No! Keep touching me."

  "Why should I?" He was taunting me now while barely holding out himself.

  "I want you." I panted, and Lancelot grabbed me as his lips brushed over my cheek.

  "What was that?"

  "I want you."

  "Have some bloody manners." He pulled my hair to make my head lean back. His teeth scraped over my neck, and he nipped.

  "Please."

  "That's more like it." Lancelot used his hold on my hair to push me toward the bed until I had to kneel on the edge. He grabbed the back of my neck to push me down with my ass in the air. His other hand slid over my hip to move me into position.

  When his hand lowered to grab my ass, my tail lifted out of the way. Lancelot's breath was deeper, and I felt his cock pressing against my core and using my slick to ease his way in. Feeling myself stretching to accommodate his length, I groaned. His grip on the back of my neck tightened while pushing my cheek further into the rumpled blanket.

  When his hips were flush against me, he grabbed my hip again. Lancelot softly sighed with relief before slowly pulling out a few inches only to thrust back in. My heat left me so aroused that there was a wet slap from his balls smacking against me over and over again.

  Lancelot groaned over me, and I dug my claws into the blanket. Feeling his fingers squeezing my hip and scruff as he thrust in deep made my head spin. Listening to his grunts and heavy breaths, I clenched when he moaned, and his hips bucked.

  His rut soon had him pistoning his cock in and out of my pussy, seeking that high as the bed rocked. Lancelot put more weight behind the hand on the back of my neck, ensuring that I would remain in the position he put me in. It gave him perfect access, hitting every spot that made me cry out and my toes to splay.

  My ears were turned back as I moaned and felt drool trickling down my cheek. Each thrust made my body jolt, the flesh of my ass jiggling from every impact of his hips slamming into me. Lancelot was panting and groaning, losing himself to the pleasure.

  He placed one foot on the edge of the bed to lean over me more as if he were mounting. It drove my instincts wild as I cried out and arched my back. My tail swayed while still off to the side.

  Gods, it was so hard to have a coherent thought with how good it felt. Lancelot pushed me further onto the bed to climb on behind me before fully mounting and biting my shoulder.

  His arms wrapped around me, one hand going between my thighs to find my clit. My entire body shuddered when his fingers rubbed against the throbbing bud. Lancelot grunted into my skin while holding me to his chest as he fucked me.

  His rut was no doubt filling his mind with thoughts of breeding. Lancelot's hand not between my thighs ran up my stomach and over my nipples, squeezing one of the swollen mounds as I bared my fangs. His touch sent sparks dancing across my skin, and he pinched my nipple to make me squirm beneath him.

  Lancelot had me at his mercy trapped beneath him, left with no choice but to feel his body surrounding mine. My senses were drowning in him as I whimpered and moaned. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw his eyes dark and full of hunger as he was watching me. His hair swayed from his thrusting, and he opened his mouth with his face so close to mine.

  He licked my cheek, a show of affection before nipping my ear closest to him. I couldn't take it anymore with all of the sensations colliding like a spring storm. My moan was nearly a roar as I was cumming around his cock with my claws tearing through the blanket.

  Lancelot groaned and fucked me through it. My body clenching around him became too much, and his cock was twitching while pumping me full of cum. His hips gradually began to slow as he panted and grunted in my ear.

  I was trying to catch my breath, and he rested his head on my shoulder with his body slowly relaxing. He eventually pulled out, his softening cock covered in a mix of bodily fluids that were also leaking down my thighs. Lancelot nuzzled my cheek and jaw to help ease me back down from the high.

  My legs felt weak, and when I eased them outward to lay down on my stomach, I felt the ache in my lower back. Lancelot began to leave sweet kisses over my shoulders and upper back, including where he'd bitten me.

  "You're so beautiful." Lancelot whispered. Scoffing, I wiped the drool from my face.

  "I'm a mess."

  "You can be both at once." I could hear the smile in his voice as his lips brushed over my skin. "You are entrancing." Lancelot placed a hand on my lower back and slowly moved it upward. "The way you move and your muscles flex.... The way you sound. Your eyes." He kissed my temple. "Beautiful."

  I propped myself up on my elbows as my tail softly wagged, giving away just how much I enjoyed his praise.

  "Even the way your pretty lips part and shape your voice." Lancelot's fingers caressed my lips. "You are a work of art, my love."

  "You certainly have a way with words." I smiled, and he kissed my cheek.

  "I only speak the truth." Lancelot then laid down beside me and brushed his knuckles over my cheek. His eyes were so gentle as he looked at me, far from that cold stare that could bore through me.

  "You truly don't find me scary? Monstrous?"

  "....No. I understand what you meant by your nature." He gently tapped my chin with his knuckle while looking at my mouth. I playfully nipped his finger, and he smirked. "Your fangs and claws are just a part of you, meant to aid in your survival. I have yet to see you turn these on another out of pure malice." His gaze was focused on my fangs gently around his finger. "Sometimes I find myself even thinking they're a bit....adorable. It's a bit strange."

  "It's not strange." I said after letting go. "Admiration, love, understanding; these can all make you see things differently." Holding his hand and opening it, I kissed his palm. "I no longer see you as I did before, either."

  "....How do you see me now, Devin?" Lancelot hesitantly questioned as if he were afraid of the answer.

  "My mate." I softly smiled and tilted my head. "You confessed your love for me in many ways, Lancelot, including under the light of a full moon. I reciprocated."

  "And that makes us mates?"

  "Do you not want us to be? You were calling me your lover not too long ago-"

  "No, I want to be your mate."

  "Good. I would have bit you if you said you didn't." Lancelot chuckled, his smile making me feel so light and for a warmth to bloom in my chest. "I'm going to enjoy having you around for my entire heat instead of just a few days."

  "You are an insatiable wolf."

  "Tell me you don't think you will enjoy it, too." I challenged while resting my chin on his chest. Lancelot's smile turned sultry before he leaned in to kiss me without saying a word.

  Having his rut triggered by my heat made me not doubt that he would be fine. Lancelot wasn't human, and given what happened during my last heat, I would not be left wanting in any way.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Fae Boyfriend x Human! Reader

I’m working on so many projects, but I’m hoping to get as many done as possible before I go back to Uni. I enjoy this a lot (if you can’t tell) so fingers crossed! ENJOY!

Reader x Male Monster

These Violent Desires

For most of your life into your late teens, you always thought you had a follower. A follower or someone who watched over you like a guardian angel. Maybe it would’ve been seen as a bit odd or creepy to some, but to you, you thought not much of it; as if you had someone to protect you.

Your mother had told you otherwise. Many times, she had tried protecting you from the world, an overprotective mother, who too, grew up in a sheltered life trapped from the outside.

You see, all things lurked and hid in the darkest of places, coming out into the light as something or someone you could trust. A stranger who could manipulate you into thinking of them as nothing but harmful, until you find it too late and you’re whisked away from a life you once knew.

You had found it odd, and it applied mainly to humans that many would’ve been given the lesson of never talking to strangers. But this applied to other species too.

The fondest memories you had since you were a child were when you would go to visit your grandmother, in a secluded part of the north-east part of your small town. 

The mansion was large, with ten bedrooms, a flower-shaped rose-window in the top of the attic that you remember going up into to do tea parties. Each room was homely yet held possibly years of history.

The walls were old and decrepit: decades of some neglect could be seen from the amount of many trinkets and items your grandma Delores had collected, but it was homely, and always smelled like pine.

There was a simplicity to her large home, a rustic feel that you often didn’t get when at home, and something that always called for you to return more and more.

Your mother like her own mother grew up in a household that was filled with more paranoia than freedom. All for certain beliefs and unknown truths that your family held for years. You had been unfortunate to witness yourself many times before. 

Collecting your shoes to head to the back door to the garden, your grandma there either sewing or washing the dishes would stop all to come to you. It would follow with her putting charms in your pocket and an iron bracelet around your wrist before telling you time and time after again one simple rule:

’Do not go over the line.’

It was a simple rule that you couldn’t forget, yet something so normalised with the number of times you had gone to play in the garden. The line was something simple: as if it had been drawn in salt with small mushrooms growing on the exact spot, it took up half of the garden, reaching just under the branches of the trees.

You never misbehaved when it came to that rule (simply that you were too scared what would happen and how your mother and grandma would react), so you stuck to playing far away from it, ignoring it as best as you could as you got on with your play.

But still, in the back of your mind, you thought you were being watched through the bushes like there was a peeping neighbour watching in on you, but when you looked, you saw nothing.

The swaying of the trees danced through the wind, a call and whisper that danced through the air, and then you would be called in for lunch before you got too curious.

It continued and continued until you grew old of your dolls and small play, and you got older and found little time spent at your grandmas. She soon passed away when you were in your late teens, and that distant memory of playing there was something that plagued your mind; as if calling for you.

After a few years of cleaning out the old house, your mother told you that they were going to knock the entire building down, rebuild over it, and at that moment so rushed, you had told her your words of disagreeing, going as far to say that it would upset and disappoint your grandma.

’If you and I are not going to look after it, who will?’ your mother shared her disapproval with you that evening of the news.

Your answer back to her made her close her mouth in surprise. ‘Who said I wasn’t?’

After a lot of convincing, you persuaded your mother for you to keep the house and to maintain it for as long as possible. You had a simple part-time job, but you were certain that you could just keep the house at its bare minimal in tidiness.

You had returned to your grandma’s home when you were in your early 20s, returning to a place of both nostalgia and sentimental memories. There almost felt like a place of déjà vu.

You had parked your car and exited, walking alone and quietly to the front of the door, the leaves blowing past your shoes as you opened it with the key given. The door opened eerily and slowly, a hallway of utter darkness greeted you.

You stepped inside, involuntarily wiping the dirt from your shoes out of habit when there was no doormat, going to turn the light on. No luck. Damn, a reminder to buy new lightbulbs. You thought, shutting the door and walking further in and peering through the empty rooms.

For years of being cleared out, there was still that recurring smell of pine that faintly wafted through the air, but it made you think that it was possibly due to a window being open. It seemed true when you saw the large cobwebs in the corners of the dark rooms.

It was an odd feeling returning, a feeling of forlorn fell over you like a curtain. You were sure that there was some despair that was making you feel this way: the feeling that all would go through when it came to those to remember those lost.

You stepped through every room, even the rooms upstairs, memories flooding your mind as you silently walked along like a forgotten ghost. The smell of the earth, the laughter shared in these rooms. The flower-shaped rose window in the attic. All from a childhood long lost. You reminisced.

You walked yourself to the kitchen, looking out on the overgrown garden; a wilderness that awaited you. With the key in hand, you knew there would be little waiting for you, say perhaps some forgotten gardening tools or a neglected bike with its safety wheels left on.

You twisted the key in and soon found yourself entering into a void you thought you could recall. It was as the barrier between the mortal realm had been brought down; creating a euphoric and unearthly feeling in the air, twisting it to just feel oddly strange if you hadn’t noticed deeply.

You stepped out, the trees warped into creatures and shadows you didn’t know nor recognise, encasing you in as you looked around. Even the birds sang a tune much more unknown; as if all reality had melted into the wonderland you were standing in now.

The line that was in the middle of the garden, was still there, with more mushrooms and flowers that had grown so that it had now been a line made from flowers. 

There soon suddenly came a found of sweetness that filled the air, a sound of music that fills your ears to not exactly know where it was coming from.

It was all so peaceful you felt, walking closer to the line, a concerned voice of Grandma Delores warning you. ‘Don’t go over the line, remember? They certainly will not be as kind to you as you are to them.’

You never wanted to question what she meant by them, for most of the things your mother fed you as your grandmother being half-mad had been supplanted into your head since young. You, however, had your question answered when a dip in the trees and bushes brought your attention, and when you squinted your eyes from afar, you could just about see the figure standing not so hidden in view.

Your heart dropped a few metres down as if you had jumped from a cliff, a rush of adrenaline came to you as you were questioning whether what you were seeing was true or false.

The figure grew bigger into your view as whoever it was, stepped out further into the clearing. You would’ve begun shouting for them to get out of the garden for trespassing; perhaps even one of the young boys trying to get his ball back by crawling under a broken fence?

But this was no neighbour nor boy, no, what stood a few metres by the trees was that of a young man, tall and willowy, you would’ve believed if you had blinked, he would’ve disappeared - for his sudden appearance was something that surprised you.

He was ethereal and celestial; a man who even looked and stood there in a way that didn’t look like someone from your world. He had hair straight and long, black as a coal pit, but made his skin look paler and porcelain than your childhood dolls. He was dressed in garbs that were rich in deep autumnal colours, and what contrasted the clothes of his rich-looking clothes were his eyes.

His eyes are full of aeons of wisdom, the colour of nothing you had ever seen from others; the colour of alexandrite. His face was sharp and lean; with high cheekbones and a heavenly look.

Albeit there was a strange man in your grandma’s garden, you couldn’t deny he was very handsome; an attractiveness that you didn’t see from other men.

You stared at him quizzically, unknown exactly what to say. “Hello?” You called, your voice floating gently through the air with a force more suit for divine reality.

He stared with his majestic eyes, a mysterious smile appearing on his face. “I’m glad to see you again.”

“I’m sorry sir?” You called to the stranger. “How did you find a way into my garden?”

The dark-haired male stepped out close, his long flowy dark cloak making him look as if he was levitating without having to walk, gliding closer with steps you wished he would’ve stopped in taking.

He chuckled melodically, a sound similar to wind chimes; so soft and deep that it rumbled through you and shot right through your soul. “You don’t know my dear? Hmm, that is a shame. I would’ve thought a smart little thing like you would’ve known not to speak to people like me.”

The man was soon standing just opposite you, the line keeping him from crossing it to come over, as he stood a few metres back from it, looking at you with those enchanting haunting purple eyes.

“People like you?” You questioned hesitantly, looking him up and down. You had been told countless times by your mother and paranoid grandma over not talking to strangers when you were young, but this was now when you were an adult, and you had never met this man before.

You stared at him, trying to see what was really peculiar with him, and why he was giving you such odd vibes; none that would raise flags as of yet. The more you stared, the more you thought that you could perhaps even look right into the being of himself. You couldn’t even get that with him.

The man smiled to you, keeping an oddly calm composure. “When this house was built, many had come to see it truly for itself, to see the new souls living just on the outskirts of the woods here.” He gestured with a pale hand behind him. “It was only when more, shall we say… unexpected guests started coming over more and more often to this lovely home. That was when the first owner built this ring, the line that had kept whatever out there from coming in.”

You squinted at his words, trying to take them in. “You know of this garden?”

“Why yes, each individual habitant knows of every little soul who comes living there, even I.” The stranger spoke, a harsh frown fell over his face quickly as an immediate thought floated to his mind. 

“When news came over what had happened to Delores, the owner’s sweet little girl, why, every creature big and small mourned for her loss."

Your hands grew clammy in that brief moment he had said that, and a wave of the need to faint washed over you, trying to keep yourself upright. “How do you know my grandmother?” Your words were slow and cautious, downright afraid of what would come out next from the man in front of you.

The elegant man took another step just outside the line keeping him from entering, and you only just took note of the high pointy ears that were protruding out from the side of his head. The cogs inside your head were only just beginning to turn.

“Why, when little Delores had started growing more curious of the outside world and she stepped out, every creature was interested in her, and it had been her father who had come up with the genius plan of creating this line, drawing the bad things away and to keep her safe. It had been done so for as long as the winds continued to blow and the sun continued to shine. And still, this line had helped ones like you from crossing over into the threshold of this land.”

You had been thinking back to the English lit lessons from high school, to what all had been told about during plays and stories of what you believed weren’t true. It couldn’t be– it just couldn’t. Grandma was mad, but never… never did she say anything to me about the land of the fey living just outside of her home.

You took a cautionary step back, now making sure to not take your eyes off of the man you believed could only be a fey. “You… you know me?” You tried to pick the right words to say to him, hearing of how you had to be smart around one of his kind.

He kept his fixed expression on you, tempting in ways as if he was trying to drown you in the alexandrite of his gaze. “I’ve seen you since you were a youngling, always too curious for your own good. It was always something that brought me coming back to you.”

You unintentionally gulped. “You wanted to see me? Even when I didn’t know who you were, or what you were?”

“Precisely.” The man smiled broadly. “And yet, this from a sly mistake your grandmother made, and this fairy line would be brandished as a punishment for all that came wandering back.”

“You clearly know more than I? What happened to her?”

“Let’s just say…. a fey unlike I wasn’t as kind to her as I to you.”

That could explain why grandma Delores was filled with such paranoia. In your short lifetime, you had never told that your grandma had been possibly attacked from a young age; not even mom had told you anything about it and you knew how protective she was of you too. 

All because she had potentially stepped out of line. You had been sheltered all your life from answers, and you were unsure whether to believe the fey right in front of you. You did know faes could tell the truth - the amount to it you were uncertain of, or whether they could twist some of it.

You brought your gaze to the dark-haired fae once again. “A so-called fae who has known me for all my life, yet I do not know you.” You bit your own lip momentarily, uncertain whether to pursue. “Is there a name I can call you?”

His eyes twinkled in contrast to the little sunlight coming in through the trees, a soft glow coming to his skin that couldn’t have been coming from the sun.

“You may call me Erolith. And you, my dear?”

You gave him your nickname given to you since your younger days.

Erolith bowed his head in respect. “I shall be seeing more of you I assume my delight? Until then.” And with a swish of his heavy cape, the fey in front of you had slunk back into the woods, disappearing quickly before you could even think twice.

Curious, cautious, wary… words you couldn’t describe how to feel that day when you thought you had been lied to or been fed the untold truth. All because your grandmother had thrown caution to the wind that she had made you stick to being showered with overwhelming amounts of protection.

You hadn’t told your mother that day of going to the house, telling her you had been there and out in a matter of seconds - a lie you knew she wouldn’t think much too.

You returned during the weeks of the cooler season, sometimes there for hours on end to just bring in things to clean out the rooms and to leave as soon as possible.

You had found yourself in the darkness of the attic, sitting cross-legged against the wall as you read beneath the flower-shaped rose window. It brought an immense amount of memories to you to remember, but you enjoyed staying here in the quietness of the house, away from the world.

You read books and reread them over and over again, this time trying to familiarise yourself with some classic plays and novels during your late teens. This time, you had Romeo and Juliet in your hands.

These violent delights have violent ends. At first, it seemed vague to you during high school, but now, seemed to make a lot of sense.

You closed the part you had been on, gazing forth from the window as you stared on into your garden, certain you would see the fey again.

Erolith hadn’t returned in the few times you had come back, not at first, but you were sure he was watching from a distance. You weren’t bothered by it by much, sticking to sorting out the house, and soon it could be someone else’s problem.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes from lack of sleepless nights when your eyes focused on the certain silhouette of a figure emerging from the foliage.

You had dropped your book quickly, heading down to the garden to see him.

He was found standing right in front of the fairy line, closer to it than the first time he had come forth to you, standing there in the opening as if not bothered if another would see him there.

“Erolith…” his name was odd on your tongue, a name you found was still delightful and sweet of sound to taste. “I didn’t think you’d come back.”

He had turned to you with a gaze so familiar with eyes of calmness. “You didn’t think I would come back to see you, my dear?”

Damn him and his beautiful looks. You thought, walking to him but not standing as close to him. “You wanted to come back here?” You asked.

“Careful now my dear, you mean to say wished.” His tone darkened for a moment, your heart thumping in your chest, ready to implode.

You reiterated. “You wished to come back here? Why?”

“Because of you.” Erolith coolly responded, taking note of how far off you were conversing with him. “You stand so far off as if waiting to run off the moment something seems off.” invited the fey, “come closer to me. I won’t bite as you think I will.”

You wavered. “I’m fine here, thank— I appreciate it though.”

Erolith obliged, and the two of you just spoke about anything that he would answer that wasn’t cryptic. When he isn’t telling you things that sound like riddles, you grow mildly frustrated; thinking about exactly everything he said and the meanings behind every word.

“My grandmother once told me there is always something to be afraid of, that the world is awaiting things bad for me that hide with smiling faces.” You begun, eyeing the fae with a quick sharp look.

Erolith chuckled an airy laugh, mirthless. “Well, she is not wrong there.” And when you looked to him to clarify, did he continue. “All the worst things come to snatch those innocent enough. The sweet naïve child, the blushing maid. They’re all for taking when it comes to most faes?”

“And what about you? Do you follow those rules?” Your words twisted to add him into the mix, your eyes staring him down. He didn’t look in shock nor surprise by your words. And either he was trying to tell the truth or was struggling to lie, he was a good actor.

“I’m not like most faes my dear.”

You didn’t know whether to believe him, but there was something that you could find beneath his words that were hiding. Something hidden that was begging for you to trust him. In your mind, it seemed weird, but you couldn’t deny maybe you could perhaps fight fire with fire and go with your mind than your heart.

“I trust you then.”

His broke into a broad signature smile, spread over his pale face with relief. “I’m glad.”

The next few days you brought things from home to set up camp to a sleepover for a few nights, maybe thinking that not having to drive over constantly would save you gas. It was more in a case to familiarise yourself with the old house; trying your best to not seem scared when you sleep in a dusty sleeping bag in the living room, staring up at the ceiling the entire night.

The days you didn’t sit in the attic, but in the garden, reading or humming softly or even napping, but all just to wait for your friend. When he did arrive, it surprised you into thinking he must’ve sensed you there, but deciding not to question it.

At first, you sat far as possible away from him, watching from a safe distance and continued your conversations with him. It was only when on one day that you sat a few metres from the fairy line, picking growing flowers to create links from scratch.

Erolith didn’t say anything to that, copying you and sitting in the grass, continuing to speak with you as you exchanged small daisies to each other with some effort.

On the fifth day of doing so, you had decided to question where he stood when it came to deciding to keep coming back to you or to even holding conversations with a mortal like you.

“Sometimes I think you just come back here because you’re bored.” You spoke up, not meeting your eyes as you continued fixing the daisy chain in your fingers, “I suppose I can admit I was nervous around you.”

“You were?” Intrigued was the only word you could think of that made you think of Erolith. “And what would you say now? Still horrified at the sight of me?”

You met his gaze that split second, and immediately wished you could look away. He was already staring straight back at you, waiting, with a look you didn’t want to decipher. You gulped, your words dry in your throat.

“No– no I wouldn’t say so anymore.”

Abruptly he was stood before you, standing just inches away from the line as he stared down upon you. “Test this theory out then my dear. Come please– over to me.”

Your mind raced but your body was already programming yourself to slowly and steadily stand to your feet, neglecting the flower chain as you stepped over it.

Inching and inching closer, you thought back to your grandmother and what she would think. Mainly stupid and perhaps gullible in believing him. But from what you could tell of Erolith, he was funny, smart, and intellect, but she would’ve said it was his way of drawing you in closer.

Like drawing a moth to a flame. You breathed, soon standing just before him. He was a few inches taller than you, you only reaching his collarbones, and having to peer up into his beautiful eyes. The fairy line was touching your feet, begging you not to overdo it.

Erolith smiled shyly, reaching a hand for you. “Please, I want to touch you.”

These violent delights have violent ends. You reached for him, and tentatively, you put your hand into his. Warm and soft you didn’t expect that from him, but you were more than expecting the fae to have really smooth skin compared to yours.

Erolith hummed in approval. “That’s it– just like that.” He softly spoke, like talking to a wounded animal with no indications of harming it. You felt flushed under his gaze, blushing as you didn’t break eye contact. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You shook your head as you pulled away, quicker than you could expect. Withdrawing brought a coolness to come back to your skin as if you had been brought back into your own world and body.

You stared at him with awe and wonder, thinking to yourself as to what you had done. “I wonder how Dolores would’ve reacted had she of seen you now.” Grinned the fae. “She wouldn’t have been most pleased.”

You shook your head, thinking that for a split moment, you could hear the familiar song and mirthless chimes coming from the distance, shaking your head to dismiss your head with such thoughts.

This continued and continued, days and days on end as you got closer and closer to Erolith, the barrier-breaking between the two of you. Slowly and with what you thought could be trusted, he broke your walls and allowed you to be more open to him, asking more questions and being open to answering ones he had for you, touching him and even going as far as to read with him.

You grew more appreciative of him, his time he spent with you as you the nagging feeling in the back of your head grew less and less; telling you it was better to have a friend around than none at all.

You were sat reading silently to yourself, leaning into his back as he sat facing away from you on the grass. Back to back, you held the book with one hand, your hand reaching over to his side over the line to hold his, feeling his warm fingers trace and squeeze and hold you back with much attention and adoration you had ever felt in your life.

“I will have to go soon, my dear. The evening is nigh and you still haven’t eaten. We wouldn’t want to ruin your evening, would we?” Erolith had brought your attention back to reality, as you shut your book with a quiet sigh.

“I’m not hungry.” You said, turning your head back to him as he grinned. “And besides, I can spend more time with you.”

“Wouldn’t you want to share the company with another instead of I?” Erolith suggested softly. “Have you no worrying mother, nor troubled friends that would need to get in contact with you?”

You thought to your mother, whom you had fallen out of talking with over an argument. She had believed you were spending too much time at the house and away from home; as if the house was corrupting you like grandma Delores had been.

As for friends, you fell out of conversion with old ones from high school. You didn’t need them, you had Erolith now… but did he want to be friends with you still?”

“I— they don’t matter right now. Don’t you want to spend time with me?” You pouted, looking downcast as you stood to your feet.

You weren’t expecting two warm hands to come around your face, pulling your attention to flicker up to meet his soft and genuine eyes. “I enjoy every day with you, my dear. More so than anyone I’ve known compared to a beat of every millennium.”

You paused in a beat, before speaking what anyone sane would’ve called your mad for thinking. You shut your eyes as you went to wrap your arms around the fae’s waist, effectively stepping over the fairy line that was keeping you safe for twenty-three years of your life.

Erolith gasped softly into your touch as you felt him hug you back for what you wanted in forever, slowly coming to terms as to what you had just done.

“The line… you stepped over the line.” His voice a mere state of shock.

You were standing in fae territory now, and now your life was in the hands of the fae you had come to enjoy spending time with. Erolith grabbed at your shoulders, pulling you back to your senses as you stared dazed at him.

You managed to get “get back over” from him as you felt him trying to push you back over to your side, but you tried your best planting your feet firmly into the dirt. “I don’t want to.”

Erolith huffed, surprised as you were with your statement. “Faes less kind than me will come when they sense you on our side. They will be here in a matter of seconds, claiming you for themselves and making you become their personal slave.”

You breathed, planting your fingers spread over his chest, leaning up to him. “If there is one person I would want to be claimed by, it would be by you.” You caught him off guard for sure. 

“Please, my life is a living hell, I find little love nor freedom here.”

“And you won’t over here if you don’t go back. Please, I beg of you, I will not take you as a slave and I never wanted to.” He said your name, adamant and serious in making sure you were safe. That was all you needed to know in believing that the fae did care for you.

You smiled sadly, still trying to get him to agree. “I don’t care. I like you Erolith, I will admit that. I enjoy spending time with you, whether you like me or not.” You may of seen insane in anyone’s eyes, but not to him. He knew of your pain, your silent suffering you had to face for all your life.

Erolith embraced you carefully, sweetly as if you were made of glass than human flesh. He was treating you like a delicate jewel, making sure to keep you from breaking. “I wouldn’t keep you as a slave, that was never my intention. You have my word. If you go with this, there’s no certainty you will be able to pass the threshold back into your world.”

The swaying of trees brought your attention past his shoulders, but he pulled his head to block the view behind him. In front of you, Erolith’s eyes were completely blown wide with wanton and adoration.

You smiled, saying two words that brought him to believe his words and set out to make you happy. Two words that made him see that you were completely trusting him and confident in what you wanted. 

“I know.”

It was enough to make him sweep you off your feet and press his lips to yours feverishly, and you felt yourself float above the clouds, higher than any God or kingdom could keep you from falling or staying still.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you sighed blissfully into him, your bodies flush to each other.

The book you had been reading had been neglected in the empty garden, forgotten for aeons as the wind blew gently through the trees. For seasons would come but the sun would continue to rise.

The page left on the final page as it fluttered shut on the final words: 

     “A glooming peace this morning with it brings.

The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head.

      Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things.

Some shall be pardoned, and some punishèd.

      For never was a story of more woe

Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”

[moonloredraws]

The Honeyqueen - Manala Oracle Card

“take some time off to enjoy with the people you love most, reforge your connections to those around you, for they will come to aid you when you need it.”

[cozycryptidcorner]

Avery the Fae/Reader, Lemon

You don’t dress up for Halloween.

Not your fault, though, really, because your professors show no mercy for holidays, especially not ones that don’t land them a day off. Classes go on as usual, and so you wake up the latest you can without risking a tardy and go off in the comfortable clothes you slept in. Except for some cat ears and one superman, everything is perfectly normal, and the day passes like almost every other, save for a ‘spooky drink’ coupon at the local cafe.

I probably don’t even need a costume, anyways, you think as you catch your reflection when passing those special mirror-like windows on one of the campus’ buildings. Frankly, you look like you crawled out of hell itself. Dark circles under your eyes from lack of sleep, hair all askew and uncooperative, mouth in a permanent stressed line.

A zombie, probably, you decide, taking a sip of that hot caffeinated mess you ordered from the cafe. A hot zombie, for sure, but a zombie no less. A part of you wants to skip your next class and take a nap, but you’ve already used up your one absence, and you aren’t in a position to risk your grade for sleep. No rest for the wicked, right? Right. Everything else goes as smoothly as can be expected for being sleep deprived, and the night class seems to drag on for a fully stretched eternity, but you are finally free to go home and do your five hours of homework. Maybe if you’re lucky, you can squeeze in two or three hours of sleep.

It’s because you’re tired, you think, stopping for a hot minute when you realize that you’re lost. You hadn’t been paying attention to campus’ many twists and turns in its paths, and so you must have wandered away from the buildings and onto the forest trail that hugs the dorms, except there’s no cement beneath your feet. Not even a dirt trail marks a way out, and you take a full moment to come to terms with being lost, on your own damn campus, no less. You aren’t any kind of simpering pansy, so you turn around and begin to retrace your steps. Which doesn’t work, unfortunately, because after a couple of minutes of walking, there’s nothing to suggest that you’re only a couple of paces from civilization.

Except a drum beat, behind you. It’s faint, probably a half-mile away, but it’s the closest thing you have to a way back, especially since your phone can’t seem to pick up any signal. Maybe one of the school’s many bands are practicing? Right, you’re just going to stumble out into the football field, twigs in your hair, looking very much like you’ve gotten into a fist-fight with the entire forest…

And… Not a band, you realize, stepping into a clearing, but a party.

A costume party, too, by the looks of it, with everyone in soft, flittery clothing and fitted masks. Interesting how everyone seems to be on the same page with the dress code, there’s usually that one dick who shows up in a hotdog suit, regardless of any previous agreements. Elegant is the word you’re looking for, you decide, running into something tall and solider, correction: running into someone tall and solid.

“Oh, hey, sorry,” you apologize, shifting your weight on either foot, “I’m a little lost.”

“I think that you are right where you want to be,” your stranger says, mouth turning up into a strange, fanged smile. His black mask is trimmed with gold, and it doesn’t seem like he’s costuming as anything specific; rather, it appears to be just for anonymity.

“I think I really want to be in bed,” you say, trying to share a mutual we’re in college and want to die of exhaustion moment, but he doesn’t respond with the same energy.

“Perhaps a drink of wine before you go?” He offers, holding out an actual goblet of some kind. Maybe the metal-working students pitched in? Or accepted a particular commissioned order? It looks like genuine gold, which adds to the whole aesthetic of the party.

“Uh,” don’t accept drinks you haven’t seen made, “I’m good for now, really. Just trying to get back home to study.”

“Hm,” he says, taking a good swig from the goblet he had just offered, “good question. Through the trees from whence you came, most likely.”

Of fucking course, he’s drunk and doesn’t know left from right. Great. What an excellent position you’ve put yourself in. Frustrated and confident he wouldn’t roofie himself, you snatch the goblet from his hand and down several large gulps of shockingly sweet wine, maybe a sangria? Or something sugared up to be palatable?

Swirling the goblet around, to seem sophisticated, you ask, “so is this some kind of rich person party? Like an Illuminati meeting or something?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you speak of.”

“Right.” You draw out the single syllable, landing hard on the t. LARPers, probably, but not unattractive ones. Those masks don’t hide everything, and the shape of his jaw is not something to balk at, and those lips? Not to be forward in your own brain or anything, but they’re certainly decent to look at. This has to be some kind of weird-ass club, or like a rich dumbass ritual or something, definitely not your average frat party with a variety of random drugs mixed into the mystery punch. “Do you go to school here?”

He looks down at your university sweatshirt, cocking his head slightly. “A place of learning, is it? No, I’m afraid I have not attended such an institution, but I must admit that I have been tempted.”

“Well,” you take another sip of wine, “it’s not bad, as far as universities go. With decent financial aid, too.”

“Best not to drink too much of that,” your stranger says, “it’s much stronger than it tastes, and it’s best you stay clear-headed for the evening’s festivities.”

“One cup can’t hurt,” you say, and then realize that he’s just volunteered you to join in on the fun. Which is kind of weird, you guess, but then again, you aren’t going to complain. This is a way more interesting place to spend your evening, but might as well prop your backpack underneath one of the tables, hiding it beneath the skirt of the pale white cloth. You eye the unmarked bottle that one of the party-goers holds, but set your goblet down by the expensive-looking chinaware, flexing your fingers as they begin to tingle with the warmness that comes with alcohol. “What’s the party’s theme?”

He cocks his head, as though confused.

“Like a…” you try to think of a different way to phrase it. “A topic you pick, and everyone has to adhere to it. The people here all look like they’re, like, what Victorian thought the fairies looked like or something. I think it’s the clothes.”

“We are Faeries, though,” he says, the sides of his mouth curving upwards.

“Hm,” you say, “of course you are.”

“Join me for this dance?” Your stranger asks instead of any rebuttals, holding out a hand.

You look over at the band that plays, masks of distinct animal-like features flickering in the light of the bonfire roaring in the center of the clearing, all instruments vaguely familiar, yet not. Some of them you think you’ve seen before, at maybe renaissance-themed festivals, but the others must be from some kind of distinctly obscure genre of music.

The heat from the fire seems to lick out at your fingers, or maybe it’s the alcohol, already making its way through your system, but you stare, transfixed, at the way the lyre player plucks at the strings of their instrument. The quick movement plays too much with your eyes, you barely see anything more than the blurs of fingers, and you suddenly realize that you are swaying in place.

“I don’t know how,” you say, snapping out of whatever trance you had been in.

“It’s rather simple, come here,” he takes one of your hands, shockingly not unwelcome. Perhaps the warmth of his skin against yours brings you a kind of peace that you need during this period of your life. “I will teach you.”

Your stranger is correct; the dance is fairly simple to learn, mostly because there are very few rules. Sway your hips. Let your feet bounce against the soft forest floor. Let him spin you around and around until your head almost feels light. You’ll be honest, he’s the one doing all the work, guiding you, adding more flair to your steps, one hand resting on your waist, the other weaving its fingers with yours. Now, you may not be one to go out and ballroom dance on the fly, but you would be alright admitting that this is kind of fun.

So you dance. And you dance. And you continue dancing, letting the music remove you from time and space, everything else fades away except for the thrumming drumbeat, the wind in the trees, and your partner. You don’t feel the need to gasp for air, nor do your legs give out and collapse, but you aren’t even aware of how much time has passed. You dance out your pain, your stress, and any alcohol that lingers in your system, a layer of sweat keeping your body cool in the autumn night’s air. An eternity, perhaps, a small piece of infinity shared between you and this stranger, or the briefest of moments that still yield the most intimate bit of time that two people can share.

The song ends- or perhaps, the band finally runs out of music to play. You don’t know what time it is, but you aren’t finished with the party, not yet. The stranger sets his hands on both your hips, eyes as red as the fires of hell, and offers you a promising smile, his shirt loosely clinging to his body, having lost the fancily embroidered vest at some point while dancing.

“Do you want to get out of here?” You ask, making a snap decision not to let the night go to waste.

His smile widens.

The trees are your only audience when he brings you away from the rest of the party, the moon staring over the tops of the red and yellow leaves. The chill of the night might have discouraged anyone else, but you are broiling with energy and ready to continue moving wildly to keep warm. Despite barely being out of sight, you’re already working on his clothes, trying to find velcro or snaps of a cheap costume and failing rather miserably. He seems amused with your attempts, guiding your hands to find a variation of ties and buttons. Soon enough, you have his shirt off, his pale skin gleaming in the moonlight, revealing a chest etched in dozens of tattoos, red like blood against his pale skin, though it’s too dark to make out precisely what they are.

He seems to have a destination in mind, even though you steal most of his attention with kisses and touches. Even though you are in a place you’re sure no one would bother finding you in, he still seems determined to herd your desperate body further away from the camp, until the both of you get to a clearing, free of roots strangling the ground. Jupiter and Saturn stare blankly down from their perches in the sky, the stars surrounding them twinkling, as though applauding your conquest.

“I didn’t catch your name,” you gasp after a breathless kiss.

He pauses, almost put off by the request, like he’s startled you would even ask. Before you can even regain the ability to feel nervous, he says, “Avery.”

“Avery,” you repeat, running your fingers through his hair. “That’s a nice name.”

“And what may I call you?”

Like a fool, you give up your first name without much thought, but you are too excited about where the night is going to remember what you said even a second later. It doesn’t seem to matter, though, because his mouth is against yours, and your back is on the cold, dewy grass before you even register that he pulled your legs off balance. He’s a good kisser, you think hazily, his lips traveling down from your mouth to your collarbone. His mouth is nice and hot against your skin, already sending pleasant little shivers down your spine as he works, and you find yourself grasping at the cold, dying grass of the earth in order to pull your spirit back to reality.

The insides of your belly melt as he lifts your shirt up over your breasts, and you’re quick to discard the garment as he sucks at the skin just above the hemline of your pants. He needs help with the button and the zipper, his lithe fingers struggling to figure out the mechanics, so you undo everything for him. After letting out a thankful grunt, he leans forward, pressing his lips right on your stomach, sucking hard enough to leave a red mark that may bruise in the morning.

Then he kisses the skin just above where your underwear ends, a jolting shiver pulsing through your core at the contact. When you glance down at him, the barest light emanating from the roaring bonfire only a few meters away, he seems so… focused, you think, at his task of slowly stripping the last bit of fabric away from your body. Methodically, he tugs, fingers threading through the straps at the side, his eyes glimmering in the light bleeding out from the moon herself.

Slowly, steadily, he presses his mouth where your leg and torso meet, nibbling at a bit of flesh before moving ever so slightly downwards, opening your legs and seemingly liking what he finds down there. Carefully avoiding any of your puckered, wet skin, he instead moves his lips just to the side, clearly enjoying the act of driving you to the brink of insanity. You can feel the smile he wears as he teases you further, switching over to your other thigh.

Almost impatiently, you wrap one of your legs around his shoulder, arching your back when he finally lashes his tongue out to trace the outline of your flower. A heated spark ignites through your nerves, a charge of fiery need flooding your body and into your core. He seems to enjoy the breathless whine you offered in response because he does it again, inching closer and closer to your clit.

Roughly, you tangle your fingers into his long, flowing hair, pulling him closer and begging with no words for him to stop teasing and finally give you the pleasure you need. Avery finally complies, pressing his tongue right up against your clit and tracing little circles on and around it. The heat of his breath only helps further stir the coals in your womb, your back arching against the gentle curve of the world as you cry out.

He seems to deeply enjoy your keening, popping off your puckered flesh in the brief moment it takes for him to smile up at you, like a beast satisfied with the tortured screams of its prey. The way his tongue moves up, around, and down your clit makes you want to die, dirt clinging underneath your fingernails, bits of grass tearing as you claw at the ground. Still, he takes your keening reaction to double his efforts, using his fingers when his mouth is busy elsewhere, rubbing gentle little patterns in the opening of your slit.

There, you can feel your orgasm approaching as he begins to explore your core with his thumb, pushing and rubbing against the throbbing folds with some level of curiosity in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, a passing observation.

You’re so beyond the point of return that you could barely even draw in the words to thank him before you’re overcome with shaking trembles emanating from your very core, your insides quick to bend and break at his beckoning. It doesn’t take much more teasing from Avery before you’re crying out for him, voice cracking with pleasure and desperation, your fingers threading through his hair so tightly you don’t know where you end, and he begins.

When you are nothing more than a heaping, teary-eyed mass of trembling flesh on the ground, he crawls up from between your legs, kisses your stomach, your ribs, your breasts, your collarbone, all the way up to your mouth once more. You can taste yourself on his tongue and lips, warmer than the wine and almost twice as intoxicating, and by the wild stare in his eyes, he’s drunk with your nectar. And, quite frankly, ready to devour you, his kisses all teeth and heat, mouth dexterous against the curves, rises, and plateaus of your body, like he knows so very intimately every square centimeter of you.

There’s a hard rock length against your stomach, one that you can feel, almost tragically against your skin as he lavishes your lips and chest with his blessed attention. Even though you walked into this situation expecting a one-night stand, you don’t know, this feels light it could rocket through your life and end up becoming

“More,” you rasp, surprised that your voice is even working, ” more.”

He understands that rough and demanding command, stroking your hair with one of his free hands, mouth offering up a myriad of kisses to your neck and collarbone, an odd, overcoming need to please you emanating off of him, one like you’ve never dealt with before. Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see the familiar masks of those at the party earlier, but Avery turns your wandering gaze back to him with his insistent, feral kiss, his chest trembling with heated need.

“Do you want my cock inside you?” He asks, wanting to hear you say it.

“Please,” you almost snarl, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Hmm,” he almost manages to fool you that he could care less, but by the way his body grinds and presses against yours, he’s so, so close to traveling the radius of the earth itself to comply. You can hear the rustle of fabric as he strips away what’s left of his ensemble, moving away from your body and leaving you almost horrifically cold.

It doesn’t take a lot for him to angle your legs properly, your thigh rubbing up against his throbbing member. He’s at least gentle with how he impales you, his entrance slow and gradual, kaleidoscope eyes staring so intently into your very being that you wonder if you’ll survive the next time pleasure crashes down around you. And he feels so good, the crisp, autumn grass against your back the only thing keeping you from becoming so lost beneath his trembling body.

He must share your thoughts because even though he’s only eased in, his forehead pressed against yours, his breathing is short and shallow like he could hardly believe the pleasure your body gives him. Once he’s fully sheathed, he swears, voice quiet, yet filled to the brim with lust. You wrap your legs around his waist, hoping to feel him further, your voice and your body begging him to continue, to move, but he’s almost in a trance.

You’re impatient for movement, for that slick friction between your thighs, so you quickly take matters into your own hands. With no finesse, fueled only by spite and determination, you shift, switching positions using your legs and arms. Avery simply rolls with it, a ghostly smile on his mouth as you pin his hands to the ground, chest heaving from the effort, a layer of sweat misting your skin despite the chill of the night.

That seems to break whatever space he had retreated to, eyes lit like a roaring forest fire as he beholds your body from beneath your legs. His voice is raspy, but the demand is calm, collected, like he’s waited for thousands of years for this, for you. “Use me.”

You let out a breath, steadying yourself on his body to comply, and grind. His eyes roll back as you do, starting slowly, his back arching off the ground, his chest heaving with pleasure at the loss of control. Careful to control the pace, you let yourself be taken by the pleasure, the joining slick and hot, your core roaring with approval and greed. More, more, more.

Everything is suddenly vibrantly alive, the forest rustling with a wind you don’t feel, crickets singing hymns in the open field, the moon herself licking at your bodies with her soft, precious light. You think you hear chanting in the distance, your brain muddled with his delicious praises and lust that you don’t try to investigate, too focused on feeling his length pulse and move through your folds. Tears prick at your eyes, not from sadness, no, and you couldn’t possibly know their purpose because this feels so good, like his body was made for you.

This climax almost hurts, you felt it approaching and you knew it would be a lot, so you brace yourself, both hands gripping his shoulders like a lifeline. You look into his eyes, and you see… more, than just fundamental attraction, more than pure, unadulterated lust, but you’re so far gone you can’t pinpoint what it is, exactly, before you’re overcome.

Everything in your body is aflame, your core quaking enough to make you think, for just a brief moment, that the earth itself is tearing apart, you cry, you whine, you scream for him, and he’s there, holding onto you for dear life. Telling you that you’re perfect, you’re beautiful, that you’ll never want another man so long as your legs are wrapped around him so tightly like this. You think you believe him, gasping for air, fingernails digging into his skin hard enough to draw blood, though he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

It takes a lot of concentration to bring yourself back into your body, your soul and spirit so besotted with desire, but you manage it, feeling his hands grip your thighs so tightly his fingers may leave bruise marks. You bend forward, letting him take the reins as you try to stay present enough in the moment to kiss and nip at his neck, teeth tugging at his skin, the aftershocks still moving through your nerves like waves on a storming night. Still, though, you want him to feel what you did, to become undone by your hand.

And he does, his thrusts becoming so uneven that you begin to grind, ghosts of your orgasm weaving through your flesh and womb. A crescendo of noise seems to overtake the clearing, the air becoming like static, the hairs on your arms standing on end. Overcome, he curses and snarls in a language you don’t understand, his voice hard and soft at the same time, his hips jerking as something warm and wet pulses out of his member, filling you up and spilling out onto his pelvis.

Avery sits up, still joined within you, shaken, but startlingly and brilliantly alive, chest heaving with the effort of breathing. He presses his mouth against yours in a myriad of kisses, soft, possessive, tender, needy. There is still some amount of desire on his lips, but without the same uncontrollable yearning broiling just beneath his fevered skin like before.

Then he says your name, and a shiver goes down your spine, your very being somehow attentive to whatever he says next, as though your entire universe suddenly floods down and descends on this one, single person. He says it again, rolling it over his tongue like a wine taster, trying out each of the letters as though they offer a different kind of sweetness, his eyes just as wild as they had been when you held him pinned to the grass. A sliver of fear pierces your chest, making you want to push him onto the ground and take him again, but he has other plans.

“I’ll walk you back, dove,” he says, pressing his mouth against your collarbone, though he doesn’t kiss you again, not yet. “The sun will soon be up.”

[chilopodacrudus]

Not drawing was killing me so I decided to doodle my insectoid Fey; Charnel. This didn't do my hand any good so I had to stop at his upper half. This is getting frustrating.

The colored headshot is years old but look how purple he is.

He's a typical 'trickster' Fey even though he acts very gentlemanly. Don't tell him your name and DO NOT eat his cooking; unless you fancy getting lost in the Fey realm forever which honestly doesn't seem half bad right now.

[classy-stars]

Hi guys! I just posted a short story on Vocal for a challenge, the prompt was ‘Long Thaw’. I’m just sharing it here for anyone interested, the story includes a fae!

There’s a nice crossover between people who like Fae and the TTRPG community imo... Who doesn’t love a good story with fae/fey?

Apologies if it showing up in the tags is annoying!

[foxfire-succubus]

Okay, so hear me out

I have a theory

According to the old legends, faeries can't touch iron, right? Same like vampires can't touch silver

But that'd mean that faeries can't have "human" blood in their veins, as it contains iron, and my guess is they'd burn from the inside or sth equally ridiculous

And since the blood would have to have a different oxygen carrier (or a modified one), would it still be drinkable for a vampire?

Like, it depends on what a vampire needs from the blood, right? If it was, idk, vitamin D that they can't get cuz sun burns them, then the different blood would be just as good as human one

But if it has to be THE one and only chemical composition of the blood that can sustain them, then well... vampires can maybe bite faeries for funsies, but then they'd still have to have another food source on hand

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk lmao

[rofax]

Magra is not nearly delighted as Niamh that they are traveling together. 

pls dude she just wants to snap off a bite of that beefcake okay 

Magra is @leftski-art‘s feller and Niamh the forward satyr is mine c;

[lethargic-caterpillar]

A Celebration

Female! Bee-like Fae (fey?) Queen x Gender Neutral! Reader

You looked at your ornate pocket watch with a small twinge of annoyance, watching from the corner of your eye at the performers who were whispering amongst themselves. The thick curtain blocks them and the noise from view, but you still shoot them a cold look. She was waiting for suspense to build up, as she always did, but this was getting ridiculous. 

Your eyes scan the main ballroom once more, through a small crack, at all the chatting guests. They were here to witness a special performance from Her Majesty’s personal troupe. Finely dressed nobles from all over the continent came to celebrate her 340th name day. You’d think that as an immortal fae creature, she’d become more humble in her yearly festivities.

Just as you’re about to open a servant's door to check up on the hostess, you hear the band start to play her favourite waltz. Quickly, without messing up your party-wear, you step through the fine fabric wall that was pulled aside by one of the maids.

As you ascend the three steps to the lavish throne, you see her. Dressed in a voluminous purple gown, marching towards her seat with her wings flared wide… Queen Priscilla. When you’re able to hear the quiet swish of her heavy velvet skirts, you descend the steps and bow low.

“Rise,” her smooth voice always brought with it a pleasant hum. She holds out her hand delicately and you take it to help her up the stairs. Priscilla never falters as she turns back to her subjects and swishes her hand. 

Some resume their conversation while others race to greet their Queen first. You stand beside her throne with your hands tucked neatly behind your back. “Her Majesty certainly took her time this eve.”

And it shows. You cherish the woman beneath all of this finery, but you did not object to this side of her either. Her delicate frame was all but hidden under the layers of fabric as she was still cinched at the waist. The puff sleeves of the dress were pulled over top of her gloved hands. Priscilla's golden hair was tucked up into a braided crown that held her real crown of gold. Absolutely stunning. 

Priscilla stifles her giggle but she cannot help the grin. “None of them dare say an ill word to me, and yet I sense some distaste in you, darling.”

You hum in amusement and let the nobles titter and fawn over this or that. Your Queen smiles at them all but she looks like she’d rather not chat endlessly with starstruck fools. 

“If you do not wish to speak with them all, then why do you insist on this gluttony?” you tease, shaking your head and gesturing to the bright room full of party goers. Her antennae droop, and her rouged lips pout.

“Do you really think it’s too much?” her pout quickly changes to a grin and you know she’s teasing you. She would never dial things down, and you loved her for how much visible effort she put into things.

“Never. And you do look ever so lovely tonight, your excellency,” you whisper to her as the lights are dimmed by the servants and the coloured lanterns for the performers are lit. 

Priscilla’s hand grasps yours gently and kisses it lightly, her lips barely pressed to your skin. Her long eyelashes flutter as an adoring look fills her dark eyes, shining in the low light.

“Don’t I always, my love?”

---

I’ve been thinking about this for days. No shame. I love the name Priscilla, but almost never the characters that come with the title. So I wrote my own.

Still dealing with personal shit, so updates are vv slow: The Very Done Caterpillar~

[otherworldly-tresses]

Three of the fae spoiling you, touching you and stroking while you are blindfolded, but they refuse to make you cum until you ask nicely. It could be a fae contract, but it could also be exactly what you want

[jplupine]

In the Wolf's Den: Chapter 6

Pairing: The Weeping Monk x Devin [Nonbinary Fey OC] Word Count: ~3.7k WARNINGS: 18+ Minors/Ageless get blocked, Exophilia, Feral Behavior, Angst, Religious Trauma, Little Spot of Fluff, Brief Nudity

Summary: A trip to the Wolf Folk village before a hawk brings a letter.

You can also read it on AO3!

Masterlist | Chapter 6:

  After Squirrel had returned with his new stick, Lancelot went straight to brushing down Goliath. He didn't look at anyone but at least acknowledged the boy and told him they would resume training once Goliath had been seen to. Squirrel didn't seem to pick up on the shift of Lancelot's behavior at all.

  When the man had finally stopped crying, he seemed to snap out of whatever state he was in and couldn't look me in the eye anymore. If I could guess at anything, I would assume Lancelot was embarrassed by his actions.

  Squirrel, on the other hand, was excited to hear I would be taking him to the Wolf village tomorrow. He would have to bathe and put on a clean set of clothes first, of course. If anyone caught my scent on him, it would give me away no matter how I disguised myself.

  Once I'd told him some more about the village, he'd run off back outside since Lancelot had finished brushing Goliath. I listened from inside the cave as the man instructed the boy while my mind wandered.

  All he had ended up confessing to me wasn't something I could easily brush off. He had laid bare his truth and his confliction. I didn't even know how to feel about being told I, in many ways, showed more of his God's grace than his own Father Carden.

  Of course, I wasn't showing his God's grace- I did not believe nor ascribe to that religion. However, Lancelot still did, and that was what he felt to be true. And there was some humor to be found in it all as well. I'd been concerned I was too harsh on him, that my crueler choice words would drive him right back to the church, only to learn the opposite to be true.

  That I was leading him out of the darkness.

  I also now understood his reactions to the story of the first Wolf Folk. The she-wolf of that story had her prayers answered and found a new home while Lancelot's prayers were met with silence and his own fear of damnation.

  Rising from the water, I took a breath while pushing my hair out of my face. Birds flew by overhead as there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Hearing the woods and the running water of the river was rather calming.

  Standing there in the river that came up to my hips, I lazily ran my fingers through the cool water. The sun felt wonderful on my skin since it wasn't too hot out. The chill of winter would be coming around the corner, so it was best to relish in this weather while it still lasted.

  My ears flicked back, catching the sound of foliage rustling. The movement was quiet, so I doubted it was a human with how loud they could be in the woods. Looking over my shoulder to check, I stretched out my claws just in case.

  "I brought the change of clothes you asked for. I cannot fathom how you plan to make them fit...." Lancelot trailed off as he stopped in his tracks. He carried a pile of folded clothes with him that he was now gripping so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

  I rose a brow since he'd gone silent, and Lancelot quickly turned his face toward the sky as his face bloomed bright red.

  "I didn't know you were already in the river, I swear." He said rather quickly before spinning on his heel to turn his back on me.

  "You have seen me naked before, Lancelot. There is no need to be bashful now." I chuckled while seeing how red his ears were getting.

  "As I have told you many times, I was not myself then. I-It is sinful to-"

  "Not a woman, remember?"

  "It doesn't matter. One is not supposed to look upon the nude form of another."

  "Unless they are married."

  "Yes. Wait, how do you know that?" His head slightly turned, but he kept facing the woods.

  "Wisdom of the Ravens, remember?"

  "I remember."

  "So you seriously cannot look at me?" I crossed my arms while tilting my head. "Even though you have been balls deep inside of me many times before?"

  "Y-Yes." Lancelot dropped his gaze to the ground as he shifted his weight on his feet. "That is also....very sinful." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Even more sinful, actually." He added, speaking barely over a whisper.

  With his head tilted down, I could see how the back of his neck flushed. The man's face had to be as red as a ripe tomato by now. This was so different from before, and I couldn't help but find it amusing.

  "Then how do you expect to give me those clothes if you cannot even look at me?"

  "Turn around."

  "Turn around?"

  "With your back to me. I will set them down near yours."

  "All right, then." I said but didn't move an inch. I wanted to see how he was going to do this without looking at me since my clothes were piled on the edge of the river right in front of me.

  "Have you turned?"

  "Yeah, yeah. Just set the clothes down." Lancelot hesitated even after I gave him the go-ahead. When he turned, his eyes landed right on me- my chest specifically.

  "Jesus Christ-!" He hissed as he jerked his head back in the direction of the woods. I burst into laughter, finding his reaction utterly ridiculous. I understood my heat made him throw away chastity and modesty, but I didn't have anything he hadn't already seen. "This is not funny."

  "Oh, but it is. You have seen my body both in bed and in your head, but now you avert your gaze like a blushing maiden?"

  "I was raised devout Christian. Nudity is not....commonplace. I also see you lack modesty whether in heat or not."

  "Oh, you see, huh?" I laughed, watching his shoulders rise.

  "You know what I mean, Devin." My ears twitched as my smile fell. Even after calling him Lancelot for this long, he had never said my name in turn.

  Until now.

  A tingle went up my spine as I found myself quite liking how his voice said my name. Swallowing, I briefly glanced away before regaining my composure.

  "Fine. I won't do it again." I said before lowering myself into the water up to my chin. "Okay, I promise you can turn around now without seeing me naked." Lancelot was even more reluctant to turn now, but he eventually did, and my mouth went under the water.

  He really was as red as a tomato. He was also quick to set the clothes down before rushing off back into the woods. Standing back up once he was no longer in view, I grabbed the soap among my belongings.

  Once I was done bathing in the river, I wrung out as much water as possible from my hair and fur. Picking up Lancelot's shirt first, I sniffed at it to make sure my own scent wasn't on it. However, his strongly was. How was it he could smell like this?

  Bringing the garment closer to my face, I deeply inhaled through my nose. I was picking up so many things on the shirt, most of which were just him. It was such a nice scent, though, and my tail began to wag.

  I didn't care this time- It wasn't as if anyone could see it.

  My ears twitched again before swiveling, hearing incoherent whispers in the woods around me. Lowering the shirt, I quickly looked around as I was on high alert. However, when I saw nothing, I realized the whispers came from the Hidden.

  It wasn't often that I heard them. But when I did, it seemed to be at the most random of times. Now included.

  Sighing through my nose, I pulled the shirt over my head before grabbing the trousers. Lancelot had thankfully brought a belt as well that I used to keep the pants on my hips. The clothes were indeed too big for me, but simply rolling up the pant legs fixed the length issue.

  Draping the cloak over my shoulders, I made sure to tie it on tight. I didn't want it to fall off at the worst possible moment. I left my hair down to air dry as I carefully gathered up my things and carried them at arm's length back to the cave.

  Lancelot wasn't there when I returned, and I didn't pay it much mind given what happened earlier. After dropping my clothes on my bed, Squirrel and I left to have time to get to the village and back before nightfall.

  "Do we really have to leave after we get the sword?" Squirrel asked as we were riding together on Goliath.

  "I do plan to get some supplies and food. There's a vendor here that sells the best roasted elk I have ever had." I replied while seeing the village up ahead.

  "How do you even have money if you don't work?"

  "I work." My brows furrowed as I looked at Squirrel. "I've been working this entire time."

  "How? You go nowhere, and no one comes to your cave."

  "Well, my pelts sell mainly in the fall and winter. I provide my own food most of the year to save money, and in the summer and spring, I sell herbs from the woods. Those bundles you saw me prepping to dry- did you think I was keeping all of them?"

  "You have a lot of bottles with dried plants in them. How was I supposed to know?" Squirrel's response made me chuckle. Dismounting from Goliath, I then held up my hand to help the boy down.

  He took my hand before hopping off of the large horse to the ground. Grabbing Goliath's reins, we then walked into the village together. My hood was low to cover my face, and being covered in Lancelot's scent seemed to be working so far.

  The village was alive with chatter and laughter. Children ran around, chasing each other or their toys. Squirrel was lit up with interest as his eyes took in everything around him.

  The last time he had been anywhere full of people like this was Gramaire. However, Gramaire was very different from a Wolf Folk village.

  "Stay out of trouble, and you can explore." I turned Squirrel around to make him face me as I leaned down. Pulling a few coins from my pocket, I held them out for him to take. "No mischief, you hear?"

  "I hear." He grinned while taking the coins.

  "Either wait here when you are done, or I will find you when I am."

  "Okay." Squirrel nodded, and I ruffled his hair before he ran off. I didn't have to worry about his safety- he was a Sky Folk boy, and this was a village of wolves. He stuck out in the crowd, and children here were raised with the aid of the community, meaning no matter where he went in the village, someone would have an eye or ear out for him.

  Not to mention if he got into trouble, he was scrappy and loud. It would be impossible for no one to notice.

  Leading Goliath further into the village, I noticed there were a handful of other Fey present as well. From where I stood, I could see a few Snake Clan and a couple of Tusks. Had some refugees found their way here?

  Walking on, I soon found myself standing outside a familiar home. Taking in a deep breath, I pondered a little longer on whether or not I should turn back now. I already came this far, though.

  Tying Goliath's reins to a post, I pat the horse's neck.

  "Wish me luck, would ya?" I whispered. As if understanding, he nickered. "Thanks." I chuckled before nervously straightening out the oversized shirt as I walked toward the front door.

  Knocking, I waited for the door to open. I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I hadn't seen my family in a few years and wasn't sure how much had changed or if anything had at all.

  "Hello?" My mother's face was the first one I saw. She glanced at the horse from over my shoulder before looking at me with confusion. "Can I help you?"

  "Can I come in first?" I asked in a soft tone while raising my hood to where only she could see my face. She took in a sharp breath before grabbing me by the shirt and yanking me inside. The door slammed shut, and I had to catch my balance to keep from falling on my face. "Wanna yank a little harder next time, Ma?"

  "What in the world are you doing here, Devin? You know you-"

  "Relax. Not even you recognized me."

  "Because you smell like a-" This time she cut herself off as her burnt orange eyes narrowed at me. She stepped closer, sniffing at me while I pushed the hood off of my head. "You smell like a man and definitely not even a wolf." Her tone sharpened. "Who is it this time, huh?"

  "You make it sound like I'm promiscuous. And it is not what you think. This is just a disguise."

  "From?"

  "A friend." I replied while glancing around. There were some new things like a replaced table and blooming herbs hanging from the ceiling. "Oh, you managed to find some of these this late in the season? And this big?" Delicately touching the pale blue flowers surrounded by greenery, I could feel my mother's gaze cutting through me. "What?"

  "Devin, I have missed you so, but you know it is not safe for you to come here."

  "My family is worth the risk. Where's Pa?"

  "He should be back any minute."

  "Okay, I get your concern, but why am I getting such attitude?" I gestured at my mother while looking at her expression and body language.

  "Because you never wrote."

  "I wasn't sure any of you would want me to." I admitted. "After everything happened, I had no clue where I stood."

  "Oh, Devin." Ma heavily sighed before she pulled me into a warm hug. "You are still a part of this family."

  "Even after the shame I brought? I remember how Pa nearly burst a vein."

  "Yes, even after." Ma pulled away and held me at arm's length. "Your sister is pregnant, by the way."

  "Cara? Pregnant? Shit, since when?" I asked as my eyebrows rose high on my forehead.

  "We found out last month. She'll be due next summer." Ma chuckled.

  "Is she joined too?"

  "Two years ago."

  "Two years?" I had to sit down as I rubbed my forehead. "Fuck. What about Darragh? Ciaran?"

  "Darragh is to be joined this winter, and Ciaran is....Ciaran." Ma softly laughed while taking a seat next to me at the table. "That boy may never settle down."

  "It has only been a few years." I mumbled.

  "A lot can happen in that time, Devin. What of you? Joined? Expecting? Planning?"

  "Nothing of the sort." I waved my hand as my brows furrowed.

  "Still courting, then?" Ma quirked up a brow at me as she glanced down at my clothes again.

  "I told you, these are just from a friend for a disguise. I swear I am not with anyone."

  "At least half my children are growing to be fine adults. I would have preferred better odds."

  "Oh, come off it. I fare well for myself."

  "You smell like a man you swear is not your partner, who is clearly Fey, but I cannot even tell what kind, and you even have the scent of a Sky Folk on you."

  "The two are temporarily in my care. The Sky Folk is a boy with the foulest mouth I have encountered a child having."

  "Fouler than you?" Ma joked, and we both laughed. "So what is it you do now? Are you a healer?"

  "Not really. I have had to use your teachings, though. I still deal in pelts and sell herbs."

  "Then why are the two you insist on being vague about in your care?"

  "I agreed to provide them shelter until they can regroup with their people."

  "The paladins?" Ma gave a knowing look, and I nodded. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Horrid, those men are. We have been lucky thus far."

  "Do you not worry how long that will last?"

  "It is ever-present in our minds. Nearly everyone in the village has made plans for a quick escape shall the need ever arise." Ma reached across the table to take my hand in hers. "I know you want to ask."

  "....What of Odhran and Liam?"

  "Odhran is still alone." Ma's tone was somber. "His broken heart has taken some time in healing."

  "I did not intend to hurt him so."

  "I know." Ma nodded while rubbing her thumb over my knuckles. "Liam.... Well," She sighed. "he is joined and has a litter." I ran a hand through my hair while sighing.

  "I really was a fool."

  "You cannot blame yourself, child. You do not choose who you love."

  "Yeah, but clearly Odhran would have been the wiser choice. At least he loved me so deeply to still be heartbroken after all this time. And I would still be with my family."

  "The past has happened. You were young and following your heart."

  "Of which I will never do again."

  "Try not to speak too soon." Ma gently squeezed my hand. "The heart can lead to wonderful things."

  "Aileen? Whose horse is that?" Pa's voice called out as the front door opened. He was still looking at Goliath as he stepped inside. When he turned, I saw the confused look on his face before it quickly turned to shock at seeing me.

  "Hi, Pa." And the door slammed shut.

  Storing the bought supplies into Goliath's saddlebags, I made sure nothing was going to fall out. I was glad to have gotten time with my parents even if I missed seeing my siblings. However, Ma and Pa had told me stories well enough about them to help me catch up on what I had missed.

  And now that I had finished getting what I needed, I had to go find Squirrel. Calmly walking with the horse, I didn't want to draw attention to myself nor come off as suspicious. Acting as if I were simply passing through as some others were was enough to keep my identity hidden.

  Lancelot's scent threw other people off so much that they would never guess it was me under the hood. I had known these vendors, grown up with them and around them, but no one could tell who I was. I wasn't too surprised by that since not even my own mother had been able to recognize me.

  I eventually found Squirrel sword fighting with another boy around his age. He looked as if he was having fun and winning while the Wolf Boy was asking where he learned to fight as he did.

  "Squirrel!" I called out to get his attention. "It's time to go." He nodded to me before turning back to the kids he was with to say his goodbyes. They were all waving and bidding him farewell as he ran my way. "Have fun?"

  "Yeah." He had such a bright smile. Storing his wooden sword away in his belt, Squirrel then looked up at me with his hands on his hips. "Now, where is this roasted elk you mentioned before?"

  "Work up an appetite training?" I softly laughed while leading the way to where I remember the vendor being.

  "Wolf kids are a lot faster than I thought they would be."

  "Make any friends?"

  "Maybe."

  "Maybe is not a no."

  "We are getting some for Lancelot, too, right?"

  "Of course. Don't want him to get moody as he does for being left out." I joked.

  "....Either you are really good at hiding how you feel, or you really don't want to stab him anymore." Squirrel's words made me look at him with a twisted expression.

  "What?"

  "Lancelot. You haven't glared at him in a while now. Also, you care about how he feels."

  "I do not-"

  "'Don't want him to get moody as he does'." Squirrel mocked me while waving his hand. Rolling my eyes, I looked ahead of us as I could smell cooking meat.

  "Why do you want me to like him so much?"

  "So that I'm not the only one who does. He could use more people that like him." He answered. "Nimue said that even if you are lost, so long as you have people that care about you, you will find your way home."

  "Those are some wise words."

  "Mm-hm." Squirrel hummed. Reaching the roasted elk vendor, I bought three portions before leaving the village and heading back home.

  Riding in quiet, I contemplated what Squirrel had said. He'd clearly grown more attached to Lancelot. However, I could understand why. Beneath the Weeping Monk was a man worth redeeming. It was a source of my own confliction how Lancelot could be so kind and concerned and yet have the blood of only gods know how many Fey on his hands.

  My ears twitched when I heard the call of a hawk. Looking toward the sky, I had to quickly raise my arm when a bird flew down right at us. The hawk landed on my arm as Squirrel twisted in his seat to look.

  "There's something tied to its leg." He stated before reaching up to untie what was no doubt a letter from the bird's leg. As soon as he had it in his hands, the bird flew off. "It's from Arthur."

  "And?" I rose a brow to encourage him to say more about what he was reading.

  "And I hope you have money for a horse."

  "....What?"

[pictisdraco]

Happy Birthday, @gwenore !! It was an absolutely wonderful experience drawing your Fey OC, Talind. He’s a great character and your creativity knows no bounds. I hope you like this and I hope you have a wonderful year!!

[vesprynna]

🍂  🌸 CLICK FOR HIGH RES 🌸 🍂

Sketches of some new OC ideas I doubt I’ll ever bother to finish. Who knows what the future holds! ^^

Merad the gentle Merfolk prince, Oltorn the peaceful Orc chieftain, Ula the exiled fey and Zovren the Thunder King of dragons  <3

Ula is inspired by my BFF Uni’s beautiful Fey whom you can find the art of here ^3^

[moonloredraws]

When she gets older, and even more impolite.

[blog-sliverofjade]

Alternatives to using Native American spirits and creatures

Native people have been asking that non-Natives stop using their belief system for horror tropes and exophilia.  As your friendly neighbourhood Pagan, I came up with a list of equivalents.  I say equivalent because while they are not the same, neither are the Native ones the same as they’re portrayed in Western media.  There’s a ton of symbolism on either side, but if you’re just looking for a spooky critter to terrorize or romanticize, does it really matter that they’re exactly analogous?

1.  Grendel 

Looking for a wendigo type?  Grendel is it.  "A creature of darkness, exiled from happiness and accursed of God, the destroyer and devourer of our human kind.”  Eating an entire hall full of big, beefy men certainly fits that description.  Best of all, his description is so vague that you can pretty much imagine him however you want.  His mom is just as monstrous and bloodthirsty, too.

2. Shapeshifters

European folklore is rife with shapeshifting myths.  There is literally no good reason to use the term “skinwalker” other than sheer laziness.  

3. Roc

If you’re looking at Thunderbirds, check out the Roc instead (I’m seriously throttling back my love for Dwayne Johnson, so please appreciate my restraint).  Giant ass bird that can carry and eat elephants.  What else do you need?

4. Fey

There are tons of fey types of creatures that can be used for a variety of Native creatures.  For example, you could use gremlins or certain types of house fey instead of pukwudgies.  There’s a whole wealth of them to work with.

5. Local spirits

European cultures have lots of lore about local spirits, too.  They can range from region specific creatures to fey to demigods.