Fae Realm - Tumblr Posts

Prince of the Court of Night x female reader (nsfw) - Fae Realm Story

So, I’ve been on a bit of a Fae Realm bender over on my Patreon lately, mostly due to starting (finally!) to read the Silmarillion and becoming ever so slightly obsessed with mythical graceful and powerful entities who each have sway over different elements etc… 

I did a longish post over on Patreon on the social and governmental structure of my Fae Realm, from the Seelie/Unseelie rulers, to the 12 courts who govern beneath them, and the different noble houses in turn allied with/governed by them. After that, I was asked by a lovely patron to do an nsfw story for the Prince of the Court of Night with a short, slightly curvy, craftswoman. I answered a couple of asks about him on here which you can read here and here, though you might want to wait til you’ve read the story to read the first one, as it contains spoilers (ish?). I’ll link them again at the end. 

I’ve also done a short piece and quick drawing for the Prince of the Court of Winter, and a couple of aesthetics for the younger prince of the Court of Spring (on Tumblr), the winged Princess of the Court of Air, and the Prince of the Court of Fire (the latter two of which are about to go up on my Patreon for everyone from the Shadows tier ($1) upwards!). January’s ‘creepy’ kelpie story over on patreon is also set in this world, but features one of the more ordinary fae instead of nobility. 

Anyway, after all that waffling, here it is, all 9200+ words of it! I really hope you enjoy it even half as much as I did writing it :). 

Dull, grey light filtered in through the leaded windows behind you as you chiselled and punched the design into the damp leather which sat on a slab of granite on the workbench in front of you. It would make a beautiful cover for one of the older and more battered books in the royal collection that you had to rebind, and with the design that you’d painstakingly invented - one of interwoven leaves and vines, studded with flowers and tiny bees - it would indeed be a book fit for the hands of a king. At least, you hoped it would.

It seemed a long way off that as it sat on your table, but you weren’t one to get disheartened easily when it came to your work. Your hands were rough and callused from the years you’d spent in your apprenticeship, but now you had a workshop of your own, working with the archivists here in what had to be the greatest human palace ever built.

Taking a break, you rolled your shoulders out and stood, pushing the heavy wooden chair with its squashy, threadbare cushion back and easing out the building tension in your neck and spine. Your mostly sedentary life had meant you were carrying a little more on the hips than most women your age at court, but then again most of the women at court your age were noblewomen, thinking about ensnaring good husbands and making good matches. You, the daughter of a country farrier, who had grown up tooling leather saddles and bridles, were hardly the centre of anyone’s attention. There was a rather attractive scribe who worked on the floor below, but you didn’t run into him all that often. Besides, he had what might have been called a rather ‘fae’ look about him, and everyone knew that even the slightest drop of fae blood in someone meant trouble, if not outright danger.

You shuddered at the thought of the Fae, knuckling the small of your back with a grunt and heading for the door that would take you down a winding, spiral staircase, through the archives, and out into a small courtyard where you could get a breath of fresh air, even if it was admittedly a rather grey, misty day.

As you paced through the familiar warren of labyrinthine stacks, the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly rose, goosebumps prickling along your arms, and you paused, feeling horribly like a trapped rat in a tunnel for absolutely no discernible reason. A glance behind revealed nothing but the empty rows of books.

A shadow moved up ahead, and you glimpsed a figure holding a scroll in one hand and a light that was definitely not a candle flame in the other. The light remained steady, with none of the guttering and flickering of a naked flame, and, aside from that, it was a shimmering green. Magic.

Keep reading

pro tip: when dealing with the fae, put on a weird ass accent

"i owe you my life"

should sound the same as

"A oh yuu mee leaf"

so when the fae tries to collect the debt... you can just reach into your pocket and offer a nice and crunchy leaf. Just As Promised. (:

Map of Fae

I go absolutely Feral for Fae so I am ever so grateful that @hojo76 included it in his prompt idea

Anyways here you go

She hadn’t even wanted to take cartology in the first place—what kind of highschool offered it as an elective anyways?

She had marked it as last on her list.

But then the school secretary lost her class request form (because Janice hated her) and the principal wouldn’t let her switch (because he wasn’t paid enough to care) and so now she was stuck, cursing her way through a forest in the middle of a downpour.

“Fuck,” she slid on a patch of mud, catching herself at the last moment. Her paper, gleefully marked with the edges of the park, waited for her to draw the trails and elevation onto it. By now, it was soggy.

She didn’t really care.

She took another step, almost tripped again, and swore to kill Janice as soon as she got back into school grounds.

Distantly, she heard her class mates yelling, voices tinged with some emotion she couldn’t identify over the rain.

The paper dissolved in her hands.

One more step.

This time, she didn’t catch herself as she fell, the ground slamming into her and sending the air rushing from her lungs.

Her class mates were still yelling, but they were louder now, and she realized the emotion in their voices was fear.

Her name.

They were screaming her name.

Below her, the ground bucked, heaving as if the earth itself was breathing, and then she was falling, fast and slow and loud and quiet and up and down and—

She was on the ground.

She blinked, sucking in a breath.

It smelled like jasmine, like childhood summer break, humid forests and old libraries.

The rain, she realized, had stopped.

A voice so melodic it hurt laughed, and she bolted into upright.

“Hello, frightened thing.”

The person in front of her was the most beautiful, terrifying thing she had ever seen. Perfection like that wasn’t supposed to exist—how was it fair, that all the moonlight and whispers and long grown forests could be contained into one being?

They smiled, like they could tell what she was thinking.

“Who—“ she stopped. “Where—“.

“I,” they began, “am fae. This is the fae realm. You took quite the fall.”

She coughed. Lovely. They were insane.

“I’m sorry,” she rose to her feet, bones aching. Around her, the forest gleamed. “Could you point me back to the park exit? I need to find my class.”

The person, the fae, was still smiling.

“Cartology,” they hummed. “Such an interesting subject. Trying to map everything, to contain the world upon paper.” They ran their finger over a branch. “It never was the best idea, now, was it?”

She swallowed. Her feet, she realized, had drawn her a step back. The person matched her, easily.

“I never told you my class was Cartology.”

They tipped their head.

“Of course you didn’t. I picked it for you.”

Her gut sank, and she let loose a slow breath. Eyes, gut, groin. She knew this, her sister had told her where to aim in situations like this. She hadn’t thought she would need to use it. Her fists clenched.

“Look, I don’t know who you think I am, or who you think you are, but I’m going to leave, and you aren’t going to follow me,” she spat. She pretended her hands were shaking from anger. Her raincoat was still damp.

Something on the persons face shifted, and they were studying her like she was the most fascinating painting.

When she stepped back, they didn’t bother to follow her. A branch snapped beneath her sneakers.

“The mouth on you,” they whispered. “So sharp. Such a smart, wicked mind.”

They smiled again.

“Pretty, too.”

They got closer, and she backed up further, and her knees hit a log.

“Back up. Now.”

They hummed.

Their hand twisted, and there was a paper in it. They tipped it forward, and there was her name, inked across the top.

Her class request form.

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Where did you get that,” she whispered. Her chest hurt.

“Janice, of course. Poor thing, so weak minded. It was easy enough, to have her switch you into Cartology. Just a little twisting, and she molded like putty.”

Their canines were sharp. Too sharp.

“Who are you.”

They laughed.

“Come now. I know you’re smarter than this; I know you. Figure it out.”

Her gut clenched. The forest, she realized, was dead silent.

When her mouth moved, she wasn’t even sure she was the one talking. “Fae.”

The Fae smiled wider.

“There you go.”

The request form burst into ashes, crumbling into nothing. She watched it with a sick sort of detachment.

“Why.”

“Why what?”

“Why Cartology?”

The Fae laughed, a musical sort of thing, sharp as knives.

“I need you to go into the woods.”

When she said nothing, they continued.

“I needed to have you.”

She glanced towards where she thought the entrance might be, and turned back to find the Fae dizzyingly close. They ran a hand along her jaw.

“Do you know how special you are?” They murmured. “So bright. How could I let them keep you?”

She swallowed, hard, and the Fae tracked the movement. Too beautiful. So beautiful it hurt.

“I am not a thing to be kept. I’m a person. I have a name. Just let me go back to my class and I’ll—“

“Darling, trust me. I know you have a name. But you’re wrong.”

“About what,” she said, and their eyes crinkled. They leaned in to whisper into her ear, breath cool as wind blowing across a lake. They smelled like salt water and moss.

“I can keep you.”

She jerked, shoved her hands against their chest. It did nothing. Her fingers gripped into their shirt hard enough it hurt, and she pushed harder, meaner, anything, please—

“I won’t let you take me, and I won’t let you keep me. I’ll escape, and I’ll hurt you, and then you’ll never see the outside of a prison again. I’m not going to be some docile thing for you—“

“I would never want you to be docile,” the Fae interrupted. “I just want you to be mine.”

“That will never happen—“ she swore, and they cut her off with a hand curled around her jaw. They tipped her head up, eyes boring into hers. Their grip tightened.

“Oh sweetheart. Of course it will. For now, though, I’ll give you some help.”

“Let go of me—“

The word they said next rolled off their tongue like the clearest note of music, like sunshine in winter, the sound of her sister’s laughter and the creak of the kitchen table.

The Fae said her name, and the world exploded into colors and sounds and shapes and voices and

The Fae laughed as she slumped into their arms, bones jelly and mind half between delirium and pure, unadulterated joy, false and sugar sweet on her tongue.

“Oh, hello you,” they murmured with amusement. Their hand stayed on her chin, and they pulled her against them, arm wrapping around her waist. They were warm, and that stupid, dazed part of her wanted to stay there forever.

She managed a weak, half muttered curse word, and they pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“God, I’m glad you’re mine. I waited so long to have you.”

She sobbed, and they shushed her, gently.

“Hush, now. I’ll make it better. Everything will be okay, you’ll see. Soon you’ll love it without any magic helping you.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and they kissed it away. They tucked her limp head into their shoulder.

“It’s okay, love.”

They said her name again.

And she was gone.