#fairy lover

[pulpsandcomics2]

The Leanan sidhe by Enric Torres Prat

[rs-hawk]

NSFW fem fae x fem character (or fem reader, im not picky lol). fem character makes deal with fae, she wishes for romance and wants to belong to the fae. the fae leads her on at first but falls in love with her.

You had The Sight from a young age. While everyone else grew out of believing in the Fey, you never did. How could you when you could still see them? You kept what you saw to yourself because you knew what might happen if someone believed you. It would be more dangerous than them not believing you at all.

One day, on a hike, you do something you know is stupid. You know it is. Everyone knows what a Fairy Ring is and yet, you take a deep breath and step into the ring of mushrooms anyway. For a moment, nothing happens. You let out a soft sigh. While part of you is scared about what could happen, you also can't help but be a bit disappointed. Wouldn't it be nice to get away from your real life, at least for a little while?

However, just as you are about to step out of the ring, something happens. Your feet move of their own accord, and your stomach drops. No, no this was one of the worst results of stepping into a fairy ring. One that you hadn't even thought of at first. You had insulted them, or at least annoyed one. Swiveling your head around to look for the Fey that surely still has to be nearby, you spot her. Your mouth feels dry and a slight flush touches your cheeks. She's stunning.

You've seen dozens, maybe hundreds of Fey Folk, but she is different. Even just looking at her is borderline intoxicating. Her large, pure white eyes are fixed on you. A mouth full of sharp, needle like teeth spreads into a slightly too wide smile on her porcelain colored face. Her hair is such a light shade of green that it almost looks clear, and her fingers that are curled around the tree trunk, watching you dance, knowing that she could easily make you dance to your death... They're just too long. Too slender. And oh so gorgeous.

"You're... beautiful," you whisper as you continue dancing, your eyes fixed on hers.

It seems to take her a moment to realize that you can see her, but when she does, she snaps, and you fall to your knees, finally no longer dancing. "You can see me?" she asks surprised, walking over to your exhausted form.

"Yes," you say as you look up at her through your long, thick lashes.

She hums before helping you stand up, now outside of the fairy ring. "Well, I suppose that you have earned one request then, little human, for surviving and tricking me into letting you go."

Your mind races. There's a dozen things you could ask her for and Fey, despite everything, are beings of their word. You swallow and say softly, "I want romance. I want to feel loved and, and cared for at least a little. And...," you hesitate.

"And?" she presses, smirking slightly.

"I want to belong to you," you explain quietly, your face flushing. "I want to belong to you and live in the Fairy Realm."

She smirks and tugs you towards her. "Deal."

Her lips are pressed against yours quickly, her soft lips working over yours eagerly, before she slips her tongue into your mouth. You part your lips to allow her to slide her tongue inside. You groan quietly before you feel the rush of air. When you break from the kiss, you look around, realizing that you've been transported somewhere else.

Over the next several years, the Fey, who never gives you her name, is romantic and sweet to you. She gives you gifts, compliments you, and kisses you, but that's all that happens. You typically sleep in another bed, and the two of you have never had sex. You swallow hard one day when you notice that she comes home with lipstick on her neck. You hadn't been clear. You hadn't asked for a relationship. Basically, she was treating you like a pet to show off to her other fey friends and keeping her end of the deal by being romantic most of the time.

She does this for years. Doting on you, being romantic, but never sleeping you and coming home with lipstick on her neck or smeared on her lips. You have no idea that she's doing it to manipulate you. To play games with you and make you confused and compliant because it makes it easier to keep you there.

However, after hearing you sniffle in your room one night after she does this, her heart shatters. She flits towards your room, pushing the door open slightly. She calls out, "Hey, Y/N... do you want to stay in my bed tonight?"

[faerylaw]

Eibhlín Ní Ghuinníola

There are several stories in the Irish folklore record of a healing woman called Eibhlín Ní Ghuinníola. One of the things said about her was that she had a fairy lover who was seen with her when she was out gathering herbs.

In a commentary on the stories, Gearóid Ó Crualaoich says:

" … that a 'fairy lover' , a leannán sí was often seen with Eibhlín Ní Ghuinníola as she gathered plants. The Saol Sí, the fairy realm, is the ancestral cultural embodiment of that imaginative mythological and spiritual otherworld lying beyond the 'normal' ranges of human perception. It can, on occasion, manifest itself in figures like the leannán sí, as well as the Cailleach-goddess, or in the activities - and in the narrative of the activities - of those women who fulfilled the social roles of wise healer, keening-woman or country midwife. Such women, acting decisively in the face of affliction and life crisis, draw their autonomy and legitimacy from the tradition and the traditional narratives of the Cailleach-goddess and in the narratives of former occupiers of their own roles such as Eibhlín Ní Ghuinníola".

from The Book of the Cailleach

[adarkrainbow]

Fée VS Fairy

As I was writing my previous post about Dubois’ theory of the “May Queen of fairy tales”, I realized I forgot to talk here of a VERY important point that needs to be clarified if I go further into a dissection of fairy tales. 

The French “fée” is not at all the same thing as the English “fairy”.

The English word “fairy” is basically a catch-all term for every kind of supernatural entity or inhabitant of the “Otherworld” in the folklore of the British Isles. Heirs of the many species of the Aos Si, the Otherworlders (Banshees, Leprechauns, Cluricans, Pucas, Dullahans...), fairies include as much the tiny little winged female imps of Victorian poetry and the miniature flower-girls of Shakespeare, as the selkies, kelpies and black hounds of folklore. It is a very wide and complex world.

The French “fée”, while the equivalent and French translation of the English “fairy”, doesn’t mean the same thing at all. A “fée” is a much more delimited, classified, clarified type of supernatural entity. In fact, to distinguish the British “fairy” from the French “fée”, people sometime use the term “Dame Fées”, “Lady Fairy”, because the Fée is ALWAYS female (the word itself is female) and usually appears human-like (either with a few small traits to separate her from humans, or with no traits at all to distinguish her from humans - unlike the more monstrous and alien fairies). The Fée is still however a creature of magic, but rather in the sense that she is a mistress of spells and enchantments - in fact, the French “fée” is equated and confused with witches and enchantresses. They basically are otherworldy sorceresses that look human and have human desires, and yet perform inhuman feats and usually live in domains of marvel, magic or horrors. 

The French “fée” were originally the “pagan goddesses”, the “druidesses and priestesses” of the old religions and the various nymphs and female spirits said to protect or inhabited sacred areas and natural landscapes - in fact, the fées were said to inhabit or manifest always within a specific landmark: a fountain, a spring, a tree, a rock, a grotto... And in turn, as Christianity grew in France, the Church decided to cover and eradicate these “superstitions” and the “relics of paganism” by either denouncing fées as witches OR by turning fées into female saints (this notably explains the unusual approach of French people to Catholic saints, that often only exist as a cover up of a wizard or fairy). 

Taking all of this in consideration, the figure of the fairy in French fairytales (and in fairytales in general, as the French fairytales heavily influenced the genre that THEY ACTUALLY CREATED) makes much more sense. 

It is also very interesting to see that as the French fairytale genre shaped itself, it actually defined the very archetypal division of the “good fairy” and the “bad fairy” (which wasn’t a thing before, when the fées were ambiguous entities). The French fairytale introduced a manicheist moral dimension to the fée, through the two archetypes of the “Fairy Godmother” (good fairy) opposed to the “Carabosse” (evil fairy). 

Before the French fairytales of the Renaissance, in medieval times (as the Middle-Ages were THE age of fées, where the fée figure was shaped, created, popularized) there was actually a “duality” between two different types of fées - but it was not one based on morality. Across the many medieval texts, from medieval folktales to Arthurian myths, the “fée” was divided into two archetypes: the “fairy godmother” and the “fairy lover”. The “fairy godmother” is actually an anachronism, as the position of “godmother” came from the fairytales ; but it was the “fata”, the “fairy of destiny”, the fairy as the shaper of fates, deliverer of prophecies, giver of curses - the inheritor of the Moirae, Parcae and Norns. The other archetype, the “fairy lover” (la fée amante, opposed to the fée marraine) is pretty self-telling: it is the fée as a supernatural lover or a seducing woman from the otherworld. 

If you want to have a better grasp of the French fée, the medieval fée and how it evolved into the “fairytale” fée, you just need to look at the three most famous and major “medieval fées” that embody all of the archetypes and elements talked above: Morgan Le Fay and Viviane from the Arthurian myth, and Melusine the legendary half-snake bride. They are the “holy trinity” (if I dare say so) of the French fée in the Middle-Ages. 

[momolady]

Fairy Lover: Franziska Part One

Our reader is a worker bee, happy to be in his workshop and enjoying calm days. But when a kingdom of fairies seeks refuge in his homeland, he gets tangled up with the royal family.

Male Reader/Fairt x Nonbinary Fairy

The dangers to the Empire have been growing for some time now, leading the more vulnerable people to band together. Lately, many of the fairy tribes have been working in tandem to protect themselves. Some have even started joining together to create stronger forces.

My home lies north of the Basmek, a famous commune of magic users, so we have always had extra protection. Our tribe is of Bumble, and our Queen has invited several other fairy tribes to join ours - but so far only two have agreed to cooperate with us. The first is the Red Beetles, a tribe from the south.

As a carpenter, I have been working tirelessly to build extra domiciles for the incoming fairies. In a way, I’m a bit resentful. The Red Beetles, or Lady Bugs as they are derisively called, are known as a self-centered people. Where the Bumble are known for being hardworking, the Red Beetles are known for extravagance and putting on airs. Why the Queen decided to take them in is beyond me. I just know that all my hard work, all the time I’m taking to help these people, will be sneered at and derided for not being good enough.

On the day of the Red Beetles’ arrival, I am waiting to watch the procession with everyone else. Supposedly the Red Beetles always make a grand entrance, and I want to see them make asses of themselves. Once the gates open, there is a red caravan beyond, pulled by bison that are decorated in red and black all over. The caravan itself is draped in sheer red fabric, and the wheels are a glossy black. Around it, the Lady Bugs are dressed in ornate red gowns, dancing about so their skirts swirl up to reveal the black petals underneath.

The back of the caravan is wide open, showing the royal family sitting inside. I can’t quite tell who the King and Queen are, as they all look the same. Beautiful, but the same. Their children follow behind, from youngest to eldest.

The eldest at the back has on a gauzy gown, with a train that flows like a red carpet behind them. They wear a headdress of black crystals on their head, and their face is painted completely red, save for two dots of black below the eyes.

The train of the dress gets caught and they topple over, falling with a scream onto their face. The rest of the caravan keeps going. Not one of their siblings turns to look at them. As they try to get up, they keep getting caught. Behind them, the rest of the procession is advancing. A panicked look comes across their red face, and they pull so hard at the train that it starts to tear.

A pitiful cry comes from their throat, and tears come to their eyes. I suppose I have a weakness for this sort of display - having many little sisters, I have seen such things happen from time to time. I come forward, pick them up off the ground and wrap part of their train around my arm. To my surprise, they are quite light despite the bulkiness of their wings and outfit.

“Thank you!” they whimper, burying their face in my shoulder. “I’m so mortified! My parents are going to be so angry!”

“Hey now,” I huff. “As long as you can get up and walk again, it’ll be fine.”

They whine, rubbing their face against my shoulder. “Please no!”

I scoff and keep the pathetic royal in my arms, following the procession up to the main Hive where the Queen is waiting. I continue to try and convince the weeping royal to let me set them down, but no matter what I say, they keep blubbering.

It isn’t until we are in the Queen’s Hive that I am allowed to set them down. By this time, the ceremony and pomp of their entrance is dropped, and the siblings come to their eldest.

“What happened to you?” one gasps.

“Did you hurt yourself? Is it that ankle again?” another chirps.

The royal sniffles and rubs their eyes, smearing some of the makeup on their face. “My train got caught.”

The siblings all roll their eyes at once.

“This one helped me,” they say. They turn and look up at me. Their face is moony and their dark eyes are bright. “Thank you.” They bow their head. “I know what happened to me was shameful. You did not have to embarrass yourself to help me.”

I’m a bit taken back. Do they really take such offense to such minor things? “No, really,” I try to cover. “I have siblings who trip all the time. It’s no big deal.”

The Lady Bug siblings all whisper and giggle until their parents appear. The one I helped stands beside me, their hands folded together and their head dropped down low.

“Franziska,” the taller one sniffs. “What was that?”

Franziska has tears in their eyes again, and their shoulders are shuddering. “I am sorry,” they sniffle.

The shorter one drives their cane into the ground. “You embarrassed us!”

“I know,” they whimper. “It was mortifying. I would never want to embarrass my family in such a way! But the train of my dress--” they start to argue.

The tall one scoffs. “Excuses, Franziska?” They click their tongue. “Take responsibility. You said you could manage such a long train. You said your design was perfect and you could manage it. You always go overboard! You were also supposed to lead the family, not linger behind it.” They sigh and shake their head.

“You’re supposed to be the heir, and yet you let your vanity rule you,” the shorter one scolds. “We’re giving you a lot of responsibility on this journey, Franziska. We expect so much more from you.”

The tall one turns to me. “Thank goodness this strapping young man was there.” They smile. Their black lipstick is painted in such a way their lips look like a heart. “The Bumbles know how to grow them.”

I shiver under their gaze, feeling like cornered prey. “It was nothing, really. I just wanted to help is all.”

Franziska sniffles and covers their eyes with both hands. “I am sorry, Mama,” they whimper to the tall one. “Papa,” they say to the short one.

I still can’t tell them apart.

“I may be speaking out of turn...” I quickly jump in to hopefully alleviate the tension that is mounting. “My father always said it is not how we fall down that matters, but how we pick ourselves up.” I glance at Franziska, who is peering through their long fingers at me. “When I was young and just learning how to fly, I used to crash all the time.” I laugh nervously under so many unblinking gazes. “But I took them as lessons rather than defeats.”

“The handsome one is right.” The short one points to me. “Learn from him, Franziska. No need to be so dramatic!”

“Imagine handling a war with this same attitude.” The tall one huffs and shakes their head. “Your ancestors would rise from the grave!”

Franziska reaches out and takes my hand. “Will you help me?”

I am stunned by how sudden this is. “Help you?” I ask.

Their hand is thin and delicate, where mine is thick and stumpy. They hold my hand with both of theirs and squeeze tight. “Teach me how to be more like you.”

“Excellent idea!” the short one says. “Who can we borrow you from?”

“It will be good to learn about our hosts as well,” the tall one says with a nod. “What are your hours? Do you by chance hold any seminars?”

I balk and try to take a step back, but I am surrounded by these beautiful creatures. “I’m just a carpenter!” I blurt out.

They all recoil, glancing at one another while Franziska still clings to my hand. I swallow the lump in my throat, hoping this will dissuade them.

“Well then, teach Franziska carpentry,” the short one laughs.

“Papa!” Franziska releases my hand and jumps before them. “How can you even suggest that? I cannot work as a carpenter! I am a royal!”

The tall one approaches me while Franziska and their other parent argue. “What is your name, young man?”

“Oh, uh-” I clear my throat. “Barnaby.”

They smirk and look me over again. “How very cute.” They glance at Franziska. “What can you teach my child?”

“Uh-” I stall for a moment, not sure what they are asking exactly. “It all depends. I know quite a few things.”

They hum, pressing a fingertip to their lips. “I have an idea,” they say. “Franziska has been asking us over and over for a cedar chest. Do you know how to make those?”

I nod, remaining silent.

“Wonderful then,” they chuckle. “Show Franziska how to make one. Then, when they build their own, they will see just what such things are truly worth.”

“Mama!” Franziska shouts. “You can’t expect me to do such a thing. Can you? Would you?”

Mama smirks. “I don’t have to. You do.”

“I have to confess,” I speak up again. “Right now, I am quite busy. I have been constructing domiciles for your people. It is quite time-consuming, and exhausting on top of that.”

Mama and Papa look at one another. “We intend to pay handsomely,” Papa says.

“And, if need be, Franziska will work to your schedule,” Mama says.

Franziska sniffs and looks to me again.

I sigh and shake my head. “Perhaps in the evenings,” I mutter. “Or during the three rest days.”

“That, then,” Papa replies. “Franziska will learn from you during the rest days.”

I leave as the royal family to join the Queen. As I stand outside the royal hive, I feel a heavy weight on my chest. In a way, I feel like I’ve signed some sort of devil’s contract, or like I am trapped in an hourglass and the sands have just begun to pour down upon me.

I have a couple of days before my rest period begins. I gather supplies to teach Franziska with, but I am quite ambivalent about it all. I can use the extra money that the Red Beetle royals have offered to pay me, but I cherish my rest days. Poor Franziska appears to be a handful, even for a Lady Bug.

On the day I am to start working with Franziska, I stay in bed for as long as possible. I stare up at the ceiling, feeling the sand of the hourglass continue to rain down upon me. Then I get up, go to the kitchen and start to make my meal. Then there is a quiet knock at the door.

“Who goes?” I call out.

“Franziska,” they reply.

“Already?” I grumble under my breath. I open the door and find Franziska standing there, wearing a posh, bright red romper with fine gold buttons and trim. On either side of the door are two guards, who remain outside as Franziska walks in.

Their head is cast down, and their hair is styled into fluffy curls that frame their face. Their lips are painted black, and they have on what appears to be false eyelashes. I also can’t help but notice that their figure is pear-shaped, and their bottom is quite ample.

“You’re early,” I say with a chuckle. I quickly grab my coat, realizing I am not properly dressed. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“My parents want me to get up early and start as soon as possible each day.” They say it genially, but there is a repugnance in their tone. They look at me and I see their eyes focus on my chest for a moment.

I clear my throat as the nerves pick up. “Have you had breakfast? I was just getting ready to make my own.”

Franziska shakes their head. “I had tea, but not much else.” They take a seat at my table. “Is this supposed to be a lesson?”

“No… just breakfast?” I say. “Let me go change and I’ll be right back.”

Franziska ducks their chin and giggles. “Alright.”

When I come back out, Franziska is still sitting at the table, looking at the ring on their hand. As I come in, they glance up and a slight smile lifts corners of their lips.

“The Bumbles are so strange,” they say as I start to cook. “Do you rely on gender so much?”

“I’m not quite sure how to answer that question,” I chuckle. “What do you mean by that?”

“Us Red Beetles go with whatever suits us. Some prefer to be more feminine, others more masculine. Personally, I like both. Some days I feel one, and the next the other. Lots of days I feel like neither.”

“I think us Bumbles prefer hard lines,” I reply. “I know I prefer being who I am.”

Franziska hums. “So, you’ve never wanted to try anything else?”

I place a plate of food before them. “I have not been that curious,” I chuckle.

Franziska looks down at the plate of food. They take a taste, then glance up at me as I sit down. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

I nearly choke on my first bite of breakfast. “What brings this on?” I cough, wiping at my face with a napkin.

“I think you’re handsome,” Franziska says with a smile. “Maybe, if you think I’m pretty, we can--”

“You’re not getting out of this work,” I staunchly reply.

Franziska frowns. “How did you--?” They grunt. “I wasn’t going to even suggest...” They give up trying to find an excuse, and continue to poke at the food I made them.

“I made a promise to your parents, and I need the money. So I am not going to slack.” I take a drink of my tea. “Besides, of all the things to learn, a cedar chest is one of the easiest.”

“What is the easiest?” Franziska pouts.

“Probably a birdhouse,” I laugh.

Franziska sighs, their shoulders slouching. “Do you think I really need to learn how to do this?” they ask. “What would be the point?”

“It’s not just about building the chest,” I sigh. “There is more to it than that, and it’s that lesson your parents want you to learn.”

Franziska slouches again and tilts their chin towards me. “What if I fail?”

I try to smile in a reassuring way. “Then we try again.”

Franziska looks down again. “I can’t keep my mind straight when I look at you,” they huff. “I really did mean it when I said you’re handsome.”

My heart skips a beat. “If it helps, I’ll wear a mask.”

Franziska smiles shyly at me. “No. I like your face.” They giggle, breaking into a great big grin. There is a glow about them that draws me in, something that makes the sands of the hourglass stop for just a twinkle.

I smile again because of them. “You are pretty, Franziska. But there is more to you than just that.”

“I know,” they grumble.

I nod. “Well, then. If you’re done eating, I have all the supplies ready. We can get started.”

Franziska huffs. “No seconds?”

“Afraid not,” I move the dishes to the sink. “This way. I have a workshop.”

I take them to the back room of the house where my tool shop is set up. I then give them gloves and a mask to protect their nose and mouth.

“What’s this for?” they grumble.

“I would suggest taking off the eyelashes too,” I say as I get my gloves on. “We’re preparing the wood today, and you could get sawdust in them.”

Franziska gasps in horror. “Sawdust?” They look over at the pile of wood. “Couldn’t you have gotten lumber that was already prepared?”

I hand them a sandpapering tool. “I’m showing you everything. At least I didn’t make you chop down the tree.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Franziska balks.

I laugh and sit down, taking a slab of wood. “Go with the grain of the wood until you get it smooth and level at the edges.” I show them. “After that’s done, we’ll cure the cedar and give it a protective coat.”

“How do I know it’s level?” Franziska pouts.

I motion to my work desk. “There’s a special tool for that. After I’m done, I’ll show you how to properly use it.”

Franziska watches me as I work, their eyes fixed on me as I sand down the edges. Then they turn to their wood, looking at it like some foreign object from a different land. In a way, it is kind of cute. Eventually, they stand up and take the gloves off. I watch them peel away the false lashes, and they sniffle.

“I told you.” I stop my work and approach them. “Did something get in your eye?”

They whimper and nod. Heavy tears fall from the corners of their eyes.

“Okay, then.” I gently put my hands on their face. “Tilt your head back for me.” I smooth my thumb under their eye. “Now open your eyes wide for me.”

They tilt back a little too far and start to fall. I grab them, nearly toppling myself. I turn at a sharp angle and our bodies press together. Franziska clutches my arms and we look at one another.

“I think you got it,” they gasp.

I swallow down the heavy lump in my throat. We do not part right away. The moment hangs in the air like a pendulum. This could be dangerous.

[acreepqueen]

Fairy Boyfriend

Sorry this took so long, lovelies!! I really hope you cute little humans enjoy! Special thanks to the anon that requested this! 

Requests are always open for anyone! (But I often don’t have the time to write as much as I’d like to, so I just go through the requests in order, first come first serve :>)

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You had always lived in a quaint and kind home growing up. Your parents loved you more than you thought was physically possible and they had always supported whatever endeavor you chose to pursue. The home you grew up in held so many fond memories. Even so, your favorite memories were always at the house of your grandmother. You dearly missed her stories of magic and mystical lands as you curled into her side under a blanket. Memories flooded back as though a dam within your mind had broken when you stepped foot into the small cottage. The smell of a crackling fire still hung in the space, although you knew it had been months since the last log was burned. Your grandmother would have scoffed at the thin layer of dust covering everything; the couch, coffee table, mantle, lamps, and every single antique that hadn’t been left to someone else.

It took nearly a month for you to begin to even stomach the thought of returning here after her death. She had been sickly for a while, at least a year before she finally seemed to give in and make her peace with the world. You still weren’t over it yet, but you wanted to feel as though some aspect of her was with you. Your eyes glanced over the large wooden bookcase that found its home in the far corner of the living room, away from all the other pieces of furniture. With a renewed determination you made your way over to the bookcase you remembered so fondly. Grandmother used to read these story books to you, she always had, even after you grew old enough to read them yourself you still insisted she read them to you. 

A sleek black cover stood out dramatically against the rest of the worn leather books. Frowning, you took it from the shelf and walked over to the couch. To your surprise and delight, when you opened the book you noticed a familiar face staring back at you. It was a younger and stronger looking version of your grandmother, in her arms a giggling child you immediately recognized. It was you. In the picture you were probably five or six and were covered head to toe in mud. You chuckled a bit and turned the page. You stared at the page in slight confusion and astonishment. In the photo was you with a flower crown on your head, smiling from ear to ear. You didn’t even recognize the flowers, which was odd considering you had opened a botanist shop right after school. You didn’t even think you knew how to make a flower crown.

The picture next to the one of you wearing a flower crown was even stranger. You were holding what looked like a miniature satchel. Flipping through the scrapbook you found normal pictures, you and your grandmother baking cookies, tending to the garden, hiking, etc. As you flipped to the very last page of the book a piece of paper slipped out. It was a crudely drawn stick figure with brown hair and what looked to be blue wings. You smiled a bit at the drawing. Your grandmother always told you that you had a wild imagination as a child. Your smile fell a bit when you noticed the poorly written letters sprawled across the page, ‘S I O F A   R’ You could barely recognize it, but the name seemed strangely familiar.

Shaking off your confusion for the time being you set the book back on the old wooden shelf were you found it. You decided that it was far past time to clean up this house if you were to live in it. Plus, your grandmother would be appalled at the current state of it and you, although reluctantly, begun to dust, vacuum, mop, and scrub.

>>------------->                                                 <-------------<<    

It was a pleasant surprise that you were able to get the majority of the cleaning done inside within a couple of hours. Now your work was in the garden. You didn’t exactly want to, but after some self-encouragement you managed to convince yourself to at least start working with the mess that was your back garden. You paused, very confused at the sight of your back garden. The garden should have been an absolute disaster, but their didn’t even seem to be any dead leaves.  

The white rose bushes that lined your grandmother’s house were absolutely pristine. Hell, they looked better than they had when she was taking care of them. Looking at the ivory flowers that had begun to slowly crawl up the trellis, something your grandmother had always wanted but was never able to manage. You smiled, although wistfully, as you continued to walk through the garden. The oak you remembered laughing and playing under as a child still stood strong at the very center of the yard. The tree seemed to have grown along with you as you still couldn’t wrap your arms around it. The only way you managed to ever give the tree a true “hug” was when you locked arms with...

You paused briefly. Originally you had thought you used to play with your grandmother in the garden, but she had always watched you play through the kitchen window. The thought didn’t confuse as much as it unsettled you. Your grandmother practically didn’t have neighbors, the closest being a couple of miles north. You shook it off as having a friend over a couple times and retreated back inside as it seemed your work in the garden had already been done for you.

Walking into the house you helped yourself to a glass of lemonade from the fridge. You stopped mid sip and spit the lemonade back into the cup coughing. The lemonade was absolutely putrid. You poured the glass out of reflex and didn’t stop to think that the lemonade had been sitting in the fridge without power for nearly half a year. You gargled some water praying you wouldn’t suddenly become sick and die. When you looked up from the kitchen sink and out into the garden your blood ran cold.

There walking through the rows of roses stood a man who had to be at least seven feet tall, running his hands over the rose bushes. The scene was both mesmerizing and horrific. You expected there to be small cuts on his hands from the thorns but there didn’t seem to be any as he moved lackadaisically, seemingly lost in thought. He looked up and froze, seeing you watching from the window. Your eyes met and you became even more puzzled. You recognized their orange hue. Maybe he was a neighbors kid? Or the child of one of your grandmother’s friends?

You jumped as the familiar tone of your phone sounded throughout the silent house. You know you only glanced away for a second to look at your phone sitting on the kitchen table, but when you looked back the man had disappeared. Picking up your phone you looked the message that had interrupted your staring contest. It was your mother checking in on you. You sent a quick reply confirming that you were doing just fine and continued to stare out the window into the garden. Maybe you needed to start getting more sleep.

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Looking for more of my writing?

[momolady]

Fairy Lover: Franziska Part Two

Franziska continues to work, learning how to woodwork and carve while also growing closer to our worker bee.

Male Reader/Fairy x Nonbinary Fairy

The Red Beetle tribe has settled in with the Bumble, but there is a tension growing between us. This is to be expected, as two cultures are clashing in a very limited space. Both are dealing with giving up things from their lives to make room for this change. There is a slight discomfort everywhere I go now, as if neither party knows which way to move.

Even so, I continue to work with Franziska on building a cedar chest. Frustrated and flustered, Franziska has made progress, but not in the way that they hoped. As far as I can tell, working with their hands is not something they are accustomed to, nor is it something they are comfortable with.

Each day is progress, and each day, I look forward to seeing them. The three days each week we have together sometimes do not come quickly enough. It feels strange to think that I ever felt regret or burden taking on this job.

Today, I have taken Franziska out into town to pick out the adornments for their cedar chest. Really, this isn’t something that would be an issue, but I know Franziska and how much they enjoy the finer things and small details. This also allows me to teach them about locks, hinges, and a few things that could easily be looked over.

It’s a blustery day, and Franziska is wearing a heavy red cloak. They seem bothered by the breeze and more out of sorts than usual.

“Are you cold?” I ask them.

“How can you not be?” they chide. “It’s awful, and this wind makes it so much worse!” They narrow their dark eyes up at me. “Of course you’re fine. You’re covered in all that warm fluff.”

I smirk, touching the fuzz of my arm. “I suffer during the summer, don’t worry.”

Franziska’s smile is soft and sweet. “I wouldn’t want you to suffer at all.” They reach out as if to touch my arm, but I move aside, opening the door to the shop.

“We’re here!”

A small scowl replaces their smile as Franziska sweeps into the shop. They drop the red hood over their head and look around the shop with an unenthused gaze.

“So, what do you have in mind for your chest?” I ask them. “Do you want a bolt? A small latch? Do you want two clasps and a loop for a lock in the center? Will you want handles for the sides? Perhaps wood inlays for the front or the lid?”

The grimace that comes to their face is almost comical. “That all sounds like it’s just extra work.”

“It is!” I reply. “But you want it to look nice, don't you? Something other than the average chest that sits in the corner?”

“I do, but-” Franziska’s pout becomes more pronounced. “Will it even be worth it? No matter what I do to it, it could still end up looking horrible! It doesn’t matter how pretty the hinges are or how nice the stain turns out.” They look back around the shop with their sourpuss mug.

“It’ll look good because I am teaching you how to do it right.” I move over to a wall where there are hinges on display. “See here?” I point. “These ones here are my favorite.”

“But they’re so bland.” They pick up another set. “What about these? They’re so pretty.”

“Pretty, maybe.” I take the hinge from their hand and flip it over, showing them the hollow backing. “See how thin the metal is, though? It’s beautiful, of course, but it is made to be used for smaller things that are decorative. Not something that’s going to used quite a bit, like your chest.” I give them a smile as I see their brow crease. “Luckily, the hinges of your chest will usually be hidden, so it won’t matter.”

I move them along to show them locks. “Now, what did you have in mind for how your chest closes?” I ask. “Obviously, you’ll have special things in there, perhaps even items you want kept away from your siblings. I would very much suggest a lock. What we can do with this is--”

Franziska scowls and stomps their foot. “Why are you telling me all this? I don’t need to know any of this stupid stuff! Just pick something out.”

I frown back at them. “What’s gotten to you today?” I ask. “ figured you would be excited for this. You wouldn’t have to work today or take off your lashes.”

“I’m not even wearing any!” Franziska snaps. “I don’t like big crowds and everyone in this store is staring at me like I am some kind of freak.” They reach out and take hold of my jacket. “Please, can’t we just go?”

I look around and see the other patrons casting strange glances in Franziska’s direction. I take hold of their hands then look them in the eye. “How are you so sure they’re not looking at me?”

“Huh?” they scoff.

I squeeze their hands. “Just look around with me,” I try to soothe them. “Don’t pay attention to them. If they’re looking, that’s their problem, not yours. You don’t need to be afraid of them, just prove them wrong.”

Franziska lowers their head. “I can’t. I don’t like it.”

I keep their hand in mine, lowering it between us. “Is it really that bad?” I whisper.

They dip their head down, lowering it close to my arm. “I’m sorry.” Their voice is a soft, pitiful whimper. “It doesn’t feel good.”

I sigh as I give in, taking them out of the shop and back to my house. Once there, Franziska goes directly to the wood shop. They sit down, glaring over their pile of wood, which only needs a bit more sanding before we treat it and stain it.

“You want to talk?” I ask them gently. I sit down beside them as they pick up one of the smaller panels and look it over. “I thought you Red Beetles lived off making an entrance.”

Franziska rubs their hands over the wood, feeling it to make sure it’s as smooth as possible, and perhaps to distract themselves from my question.

“You can call me a Ladybug, everyone else does,” they grumble. Then they look up at me. “Just because we like to look pretty and wear lovely clothes--” They shut their mouth and shake their head. “That doesn’t make us all Ladies!”

“Hey--!” I try to speak up, but the look in their eyes stops me.

“You saw it, right?” Franziska snaps. “The way they all looked at me in there? That’s not the entrance I want to make. They were all staring at me with loathing in their eyes. Tell me different.”

I remain silent and drop my eyes down.

“Exactly,” Franziska huffs. They sniffle and whimper, a hiccup growing in their throat. They wipe at their eyes, and I see they aren’t wearing any makeup today. “We’re all scared! And we can’t go home now.”

I furrow my brow. “Can’t go home?” I whisper. “Why, what happened?”

With a shake of their head, Franziska sits up stiff again. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything.” They pick up the lumber again. “Let’s just work. The mind-numbing boredom of sanding helps me forget things.”

I place my hand on the small of their back. “You can talk to me, Franziska. I hope through all of this, you’ve at least learned I can be your friend.”

Franziska tilts their head back and looks up at me. Their smile returns, and they nod. “I know, Barnaby.” They place their hand over the back of mine. “Sometimes, seeing you is the only thing that helps.”

“I am always here, always happy to help you.” I smile at Franziska and dip my head down. “You have come to mean a lot to me in our time together. Which is why this chest is so important, because I want you to be proud, I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to look at your creation and think I have steered you wrong.”

Franziska shakes their head. “I never would have thought that.” Their hand squeezes mine and lifts it up. They place my palm on their cheek and nuzzle it. “I would look at it and remember how much I enjoyed our time together.”

My heart is hammering harder as the hourglass sand pours down on me more like bricks. I lean down closer, meeting Franziska’s kiss. They move closer to me, placing their hand on my chest as my hands wrap around their waist.

“Sorry,” I gasp as I pull away. I’m grinning like a moron as I look at them. “I didn’t mean to-- I mean, I should have stopped it.”

“No harm in a kiss,” Franziska purrs. “Completely innocent.”

“Is it?” I gasp breathlessly. “You’re a royal, and I’m just a worker bee.” I smooth my finger along their cheek, then tuck a lock of hair away. “You’re so lovely, and I’m just...”

“Handsome?” Franziska kisses me again. “I have done far worse things with people I barely liked. Kissing a man I adore is nothing.”

I frown at them. “What’s worse?”

Franziska winks. “So tell me, should we go back to working on the chest or do something else?”

I sigh and smile up at them. “We should work on the chest.”

“I know.” Franziska moves aside and gathers their supplies. They hesitate, and glance back over their shoulder. “Maybe we can try again at the store tomorrow.”

“If you feel up to it.” I smile back at them. “I won’t push you into it.”

We get back to work, eventually reaching a point where we can start to treat and stain the next day.

As Franziska goes to leave, they look up at me. “I know today is the last day,” they murmur. “You go back to work tomorrow, but…” They take my hand. “Can I come see you anyway?”

“Won’t you get in trouble?” I ask softly.

Franziska shakes their head. “My parents like you. They’ll be happy to know I have someone to be a good example.” They tilt their head up and kiss me.

“I’m glad to know this,” I sigh. “But is something wrong?” I cup their cheek in my hand. “You can tell me.”

They wrap their hands around my wrist. “You make me feel safe.” Their voice then makes my heart hammer and bricks rain down from the hourglass again. “I just want to feel that way, even if it’s only for an hour.”

I pull them into a hug, embracing them tight. Franziska nuzzles my shoulder and takes a deep breath.

“Thank you, Barnaby,” they whisper to me. “Even if I’m being selfish.”

“Apparently, spoiled is my thing.” I kiss them again. “You should get home. It’s late.”

Franziska glances back at the open door and smiles. “What about you?” they ask. “What is it about me you like when I’m around?”

I smile at them. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Franziska’s eyes brighten, and in that moment I get that feeling again. Being a worker bee, it feels like I get lost in a crowd. But with Franziska, I feel important.

Returning home from work the following day, I am exhausted. I nearly forgot that Franziska was coming over. When I see them standing at my front door, I am shocked and they are relieved. They run into my arms, holding me tight and kissing my cheek.

“You look tired,” they murmur. “Should I go home?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s okay.” I unlock the door for them. “Seeing you makes the day worth it.”

Franziska takes off their coat, revealing very cute dress underneath. Their hair is styled in soft, fluffy waves, and their makeup is soft, while their lips are peachy and dewy.

“Do you like it?” They smooth their palms down the dress. “I thought you might like this, so I tried it.”

“You don’t need to try anything for me.” I roll a curl around my finger. “I think you’re beautiful, regardless.”

Their eyes go moony and they glance down. “Don’t you prefer more feminine things?” They ask unsurely.

“Well, it is pretty to look at,” I murmur. I then furrow my brow and catch their chin in my hand. “But that’s not you, is it?” I smear their lipstick away with my thumb. “You don’t need to paint yourself as something you aren’t.”

“I would, though,” they whimper. “I would be the woman you want.”

I scowl. “You’re the you I want. It doesn’t matter what else. Is this what has been bothering you?”

Franziska blinks tears from their eyes. “You would never call me a Ladybug, would you?” they whimper.

“No, because it would be hurtful.” I pull them into my arms. “I know things here are tense, and the Bumble can be rigid, but you know what is right for you, and that’s what matters.”

Franziska clings to me. “I feel so out of place,” they whimper. “I was worried and I got so scared.” They pull back and rub at their eyes. “And now we can’t even go back home!”

“Hey.” I put my arm around them. “So it’s true, then - it was taken over?”

Franziska nods. “Everything is so scary and I don’t know what to do. The only time I feel okay is when you’re bossing me around with that stupid chest!” they blurt out in a sob, then start giggling.

I kiss them, taking them up into my arms like the first day we met. I’m still surprised at how light they are. “No matter what, that will always be the truth.”

Franziska kisses me again, kicking their legs happily. “You’re tired though.” They run their fingers through the fluff at my neck. “Perhaps another day we can mess with it.”

I set them down, kissing the top of their head. “I’ll put on some tea for the both of us and make something to eat. Have you had anything?”

Franziska shakes their head. “I haven’t.” They beam up at me. “You know,” they chuckle. “My parents have a bet going.”

“Do they?” I place the kettle onto the stove. “And what might they be betting over?”

“My Mama thinks the wedding will be in spring. My Papa thinks we will elope.” They have the biggest grin on their face.

“How can that be?” I gasp. “You’re a royal!”

“Red Beetles have the power to marry whoever they want, regardless of status. Mama knew right away when you picked me up that I would see no one else, man or woman, as my beloved ever again.” They clutch their palms over their chest. “They have already accepted you, and the only thing left is how the wedding will be handled.”

I sigh and shake my head. “You’ll be the death of me, that is for certain. You scared me half to death right there!”

Franziska stares dreamily at me from across the table. “I thought you knew the tradition already, that is the only reason I brought it up.”

“Well, then,” I grumble. “Perhaps it’s not so much a cedar chest anymore as it is a hope chest.” I set their cup of tea down on the table. My heart is thrumming so hard I’m sure they can hear it.

“How perfect, then.” They take hold of the cup and sample the tea. “By the way...” They look back up. “You said you would tell me about the special feeling I give you when I’m around.”

“Oh, right,” I chuckle softly. I turn from the oven to look back at them. “Let me finish dinner and I will tell you.”

Franziska pouts. “I have to wait some more?” They huff and lean back. “I pondered on it all night, trying to think of what it could possibly be. Perhaps I make you feel safe as well, although I highly doubt that is the case.”

I chuckle. “You’ve thought hard about it?”

“I have,” they scoff. “Maybe I make you feel powerful, or even very weak.” They sip on their tea. “But nothing I can think of seems quite right.”

I finish making dinner and bring the plates over to the table. As I sit down beside Franziska, I place a soft kiss on their cheek. They turn to meet my kiss, slowly melting for me as I run my fingers through their hair.

“I have never felt noticed or important in this world,” I whisper to them. “Being a worker bee is common, it is expected. But never once have I felt insignificant or unimportant to you. You make me feel as if I am the most important person in the world.”

Franziska shivers and kisses me again, harder than before. “Is that really true?”

“Why would I make that up?” I chuckle. I kiss them again, running my fingers through their hair so it’s away from their beautiful face. I look into their big eyes for a moment, then have to wrestle myself away. “Now eat your dinner, alright? We can do this later.”

Franziska sits back and gazes lovingly at me as I take my first bite. “I hope you know that to me, you are the most important person in the world.”

The hourglass stops, and time is frozen for just the two of us. I grin at them and feel the fluff on my body stand on end. “I know.”

Franziska sniffles, ducking their head down and poking at their food for a moment. Then they look back at me, grinning from ear to ear. “Because I love you.”

I move aside my dinner plate to grab them and kiss them again. “I know that too,” I whisper. “I know all too well.”

[twosharpmice]