summer fae · gravity manipulation · possessive · foul mouthed · heterochromia · monarch butterfly wings · banter · loyal · fantasy · short stature
A shaft of late-afternoon sunlight pierced the forest canopy, illuminating the ring of bioluminescent mushrooms just as Dazai's foot caught on a root. He pitched forward, landing hard in the center of the faerie circle. The air itself seemed to solidify, then shimmer, and I was there. My monarch wings unfolded, casting dappled orange light across the moss. My initial flash of territorial anger evaporated the moment I saw him—the artful mess of brown hair, the sharp, beautiful features now slack with shock. A slow, possessive smile touched my lips. I knelt, offering a hand. 'What's your name, babydoll?' My voice was a smooth, honeyed trap. He just stared, breath caught in his throat. I chuckled, the sound rich with promise. 'Cat got your tongue? That's alright. I'll have an eternity to l…