#*sounds of elfhame burning in distance

[highladyofterrasen7]

The bomb: I sleep with a dagger under my pillow

The roach: I sleep with two daggers under my pillow

Cardan: that’s nothing

The bomb: what weapon do you sleep with?

Cardan: Jude

[laequiem]

Party for One

Party for One by Laequiem // @jurdannetrevels

Side B of Dedicated, a @jurdannet collab fic with @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @lizziebxnnet @figonas @hazelsheartsworn

Dedicated Masterlist • My Masterlist

‡ SIDE A: track 1 - track 2 - track 3 - track 4 - track 5

‡ SIDE B: ao3

Fandom: The Folk of The Air

Pairing: Jude Duarte x Cardan Greenbriar

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 1,734

Nothing brings back the urge to taunt and tease quite like seeing Jude flustered. She is far from innocent, of course, but she loses her usual bravado whenever we enter a sex shop. A blush taints her cheeks for the entirety of our visit, perhaps as she remembers the things we have done in this very store. She nods curtly when the cashier welcomes us, then starts slowly walking between the aisles, inspecting every item as if they were weapons of war.

Nothing brings back the urge to taunt and tease quite like seeing Jude flustered. She is far from innocent, of course, but she loses her usual bravado whenever we enter a sex shop. A blush taints her cheeks for the entirety of our visit, perhaps as she remembers the things we have done in this very store. She nods curtly when the cashier welcomes us, then starts slowly walking between the aisles, inspecting every item as if they were weapons of war.

The temptation to tease her is so strong. When she stops in front of a glass case displaying monstrous phallic-shaped specimens, I lose my resolve.

I sneak up to her and put my hands on her waist, leaning in close.

“My wicked Queen, am I not enough for you?” I drawl in her ear.

Jude tenses, but I can almost hear the gears turning in her head. My cunning wife never lets me have the last word.

She goes back to an aisle she has visited already and hands me a cylindrical box.

“We could do this,” she says, fluttering her lashes at me, “then I won’t need you anymore.”

She hands me the box. It has a giant neon-green penis drawn on it, and the words ‘CLONE-A-WILLY’. From the drawing, I suppose willy means…

“I would think I bring more to this relationship than just my manhood,” I reply, my voice dripping with fake offense.

Jude winks at me then, then pulls me down for a quick kiss.

I wish it had lasted longer.

I follow her through the aisles, helping her carry boxes upon boxes of toys and wearables. When we pay, the cashier looks at us with open amusement, grinning as she drops our items in opaque, unlabeled bags.

With one last wiggle of her thinly plucked brows and an insinuating “Have fun, youngsters!”, we are out of the store and on our way back to Elfhame.

——

I stand with my back to the wall, pinned there by a very eager Jude. I devour her throat, my hands sliding under the straps holding up her thigh-high stockings. Her hands roam my back under my shirt, until one of them reaches my tail. She closes her fist around it and I jerk, my head almost hitting the wall behind me. Her grip tightens, and she runs her fist up the length of it, all the way to the furred tip. Sparks travel back down it, straight to my throbbing cock. I look at her, wide-eyed and panting, and she claims my mouth in a quick, passionate kiss. She bites my bottom lip as she pulls away and I chase after her, but she keeps her distance. Her grin spells trouble.

Jude palms my cock through my pants and my eyes flutter. I reach around to grab her ass, but she dodges away smoothly. Her stare sends me back to a time when I was her pawn, a decorative king for her to rule through.

“Jude?” I ask, my voice small and unsure.

Her smile widens as she slowly undoes the laces of my breeches, and then… she turns her back to me. My apprehension of what is to come prevents me from appreciating the view.

I stand there, dumbfounded, as she walks to the desk and reaches inside a shopping bag—from Dedication, I realize with both arousal and dread. I know what she will pull out before I see it. She had planned this from the beginning. The scheming trickster has a steaming mug of water next to the bag, already heated up and ready for mixing. My Jude is as conniving as the fae, no wonder I could never convince myself to hate her.

“My cunning devil,” I sigh.

My wife’s smile turns innocent, perhaps one of her biggest lies.

“I will start mixing the powder, make sure you’re ready.”

I push my breeches down and step out of them. My hand goes to my cock, dragging over it idly as I watch her take out the baggy of powder. She tears open the bag, then turns to give me a once-over. One of her brows lifts as her eyes land on my dick. I feel the weight of her judgement and I tighten my grip.

“It’s harder than it seems,” I grumble, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Is it?” She bites her lips, trying to stop herself from laughing. “It does not look very hard to me.”

I have known for a while how depraved I am. For years, I have pleasured myself to wild fantasies of her. Initially, I had convinced myself I wanted her capitulation, her pleas and tears. After she crowned me, however, I would stroke myself to fantasies of my own submission. Still, getting harder from being laughed at is a new low.

Jude pours the powder in the steaming cup of water and I join her next to the desk.

“Ready?” she asks, grabbing the plastic tube.

“As much as I can be,” I reply.

She pours the mixture in the tube, and in I go. The mixture sets quicker than I expected, and I slide out before I even soften.

“Perfect!” Jude exclaims, her smile bright enough to rival the sun.

She mixes the silicone and pours it in the mold before placing everything on the desk.

“Now, it’s time for your reward,” she purrs.

My toes curl with anticipation, but I know better than to think she will let me defile her for teasing me so. No—when she has that glint in her eyes, she is in charge. If anybody gets pinned to the bed and fucked with reckless abandon, it’s me.

I come up behind her and set my hands on her hips. My cock rubs delightfully against the lace fabric covering her ass as I bend forward to run my nose against her neck. She turns back to me and, like one of my earlier fantasies come to life, drops to her knees.

“Hands behind your back, Your Highness,” Jude commands.

Of course, I obey.

I watch as she grabs the bag and puts it next to her on the floor. She reaches in and pulls out a toy, a sleek U-shaped thing. With one press of her thumb, it starts buzzing. The first touch of it to my glans has me throwing my head back. Jude holds it steady, while her other hand grips the base of my cock. She expertly strokes me, twisting her wrist as she moves up and down. The vibrations combined with her touch have my knees buckling. I grasp the desk behind me to stabilize myself.

I look at her again, kneeling in front of me, her eyes glimmering with amusement. Her hair is down, falling beautifully over her back, and I tighten my grasp on the desk. I want to touch her, pull her hair away from her face, maybe even pull it. Jude also tightens her grip on me, quickening her movements until—

“Jude, I’m—”

In one swift move, she removes both her hand and the toy from me. The sound I make can only be qualified as a whine. She looks up at me through thick lashes, mischief written across her face.

Not for the first time, nor the last, I wish I had stayed silent.

Jude reaches in the bag again. The first thing she pulls out is familiar to me, a large bottle of lube. The second thing, however, is not something that exists in Elfhame. The thing is cylindrical, the see-through jelly material showing a complex pattern of bumps and ridges inside. It is nowhere near enough to cover my whole cock, but it is open on both ends. My imagination immediately goes wild at the possibilities, this contraption around my cock while her plump lips suck off the tip—my cock throbs, once, and Jude chuckles.

“What has got you so excited?” she teases, her thumb wiping away the drop forming at my tip.

Of course, Jude does not take me in her mouth, the cruel thing. She squeezes the lube bottle, letting the drops fall obscenely in the toy. With a bite of her bottom lip, she slides the toy over me.

It feels nothing like a person, this thing. It is overwhelming, all the nooks and crannies a completely new experience to me. As if that wasn’t enough, Jude powers on the toy from earlier again and puts it to my tip as she glides the sleeve over me.

“Fuck, it’s too much,” I cry out. “Please, Jude—”

“Do you want me to stop?” Jude asks smugly.

She knows me more than anyone else. She knows I cannot lie. She knows, regardless of my complaints, I do not want her to stop.

Even without toys, Jude turns me into a moaning mess. With them, it’s impossible to keep in my groans. I cannot find it in myself to care. I swear and moan as she works me; if the whole palace hears me, so be it.

She alternates her grip on the sleeve every few passes. Sometimes she lets it glide over me with barely any pressure, other times gripping it hard enough for me to feel her hand through it. The vibrator has made my tip so sensitive that tears prick at my eyes.

How I wish I could touch her. My nails dig in the desk as I restrain myself—surely, one of them must be broken by now.

Jude leans forward and plants a kiss to my hip bone, sucking on the skin sharply afterwards, and the dam breaks. I come with her name on my lips and my cock overstimulated by her skilled touch. Ever the torturer, she keeps pumping me with the sleeve, squeezing whine after whine out of me.

“I can’t—Jude!” My legs shake and it’s an effort to keep standing.

Mercifully, she pulls the toy away and, finally, I fall on my knees.

I pull her to me in a breathless kiss, teeth clashing as I feel her smile against my mouth.

Nothing will ever be grand enough to demonstrate my love for her.

Not the night I plan to spend worshiping her until she begs me to stop.

Not the litany of I love yous I bombard her with when I pull away.

My headstrong, ambitious wife. My love. My queen. My Jude.

Tag list

@slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thefolkofthefic @figonas @kingandfireheart @godgavemelou @lizziebxnnet @hazelsheartsworn

[figonas]

As Warm As The Sun-Part 2

The Light of the Moon

The scent of his skin beneath the aroma of sweet wine blurs Jude’s thoughts. She’s tempted to reach for him again, to trace her fingers along his sharp cheekbones; pale as the light from a full moon, dusted softly with incandescent, shimmering gold. 

Summary: Part 2 is Jude’s POV of the scene from Part 1. Takes place during The Wicked King pretty much right before the Queen of Mirth scene and Chapter 15. Just a soft, fluffy response to the prompt; “hug me, I command it”.

Words: 2267

Rating: GA

Links: Part 1-Cardan POV | AO3

A/N: I struggled with Jude’s POV far more than I did with Cardan’s. I think because this is a really vulnerable moment and at this point in her story like Jude isn’t prepared to be vulnerable with Cardan. Idk, this takes place a little early in twk for Jude to be admitting she has feelings for Cardan, but this is fanfic and I do what I want. @jurdanhell this one’s for you my dude.

********

Jude Duarte, former spy for Prince Dain, seneschal to the High King of Elfhame, is exhausted. If she is honest with herself, which she often isn’t, she couldn’t remember a time since Cardan was crowned where she hadn’t been tired. Nearly every day of the last five months there was always something too important going on for Jude to waste time sleeping. There was always a problem to solve, a threat against the kingdom to thwart, an attempt on her life, or Oak’s life, or Cardan’s life. What Jude really needed was a shorter list of lives she was responsible for, but for now, a good night's sleep would have to do. She was almost too tired to be angry at Cardan for having her attend this stupid revel, almost...but not quite.

Early in the night Jude was doing her best to slip away after a meeting with the Living Council, yet another one Cardan had failed to attend and Jude had fought for every word she had to say. As she rushed out of the room she nearly collided with Locke, followed closely by Cardan, Taryn, and a group of court members she didn’t recognize. Cardan’s eyes met hers and Jude knew she was in trouble the moment he got that infuriating gleam in his eye, the look that said; Oh Jude, you will absolutely hate the next words I speak. And hated them she had, Cardan launched into details about that evening’s revel which ended in him asking Jude if she would attend the revel in full that evening, his voice practically dripping with mock innocence. Before Jude could answer with a curt and resounding no, Locke chimed in and did what he was best at; started trouble. By the time he was done with his mocking explanation of why Jude’s many duties robbed all her mortal energy and didn’t allow her to attend revels like the rest of the folk, the Living Council had moved from their meeting place to gather in the hall. Jude briefly entertained a fantasy of running Locke through with Nightfell just to be done with this whole encounter, but she realized Locke’s attempt to devalue her position had garnered a substantial audience so Jude was left with no choice but to clench her jaw and bite out an acceptance of Cardan’s offer.

Now, an eternity later, Jude stands to the side of Cardan’s throne scowling at the side of his horribly beautiful face as he downed the dregs of yet another gobet. She had given up trying to count his cups hours ago but the glazed look in his eyes told Jude it is likely someone would be carrying Cardan back to his chambers this evening. She took a cursory glance around the room eyeing the dwindling guests and the King’s Guard who all made a point to look anywhere but toward the dais, and realized that someone is most likely to be her.

As if on cue, Cardan stands swaying as he attempts to step forward and nearly pitches head first off the dais.

All of Jude’s training, both in Madoc’s house and as a spy for Prince Dain, have honed her reflexes and without a second thought her hand flies out fisting in the back of Cardan’s gaudy cloak of embroidered black velvet. With all the gentleness of someone who has spent the last four hours contemplating murder Jude yanks Cardan back against her and wraps her arm around his waist to steady him.

“As much as it would amuse me to watch you fall after you made me stand here all night for no reason, I’m too tired to pick you up off the floor,” Jude hisses in his ear, she throws his other arm about her shoulders and sets off down the handful of steps leading away from the throne. Cardan leans into her, his breath ghosting across her temple; warm and sweetened by wine, Jude can’t stop the longing that shoots through her like the peeling of a bell.

“Dearest Jude, are you trying to take me to bed?” Cardan’s mouth stumbles through the words, just as his feet stumble down the steps nearly dragging them both to the floor. Jude tries to tap into her anger that seemed so palpable only moments before but she can’t think past his hip pressed against hers, his arm warm and heavy across her neck and shoulders.

“Don’t push your luck or I’ll leave you to sleep on the floor in the middle of the burgh”. He laughs, truly laughs in a way that’s free of anger or malice. Jude tries and fails to suppress the small smile that touches her lips at the happy sound she so rarely hears from him.

The walk to Cardan’s rooms takes a lifetime. They don’t speak again, but Jude can feel Cardan’s eyes on her every few moments. His proximity makes the sensation hard to ignore causing a flush to darken her cheeks. Jude tries to focus on the path ahead and clamp down her desire to return his gaze.

Once in his chambers Jude abruptly releases him and takes a half step away putting much needed distance between them, but even then he’s still too close. The scent of his skin beneath the aroma of sweet wine blurs Jude’s thoughts. She’s tempted to reach for him again, to trace her fingers along his sharp cheekbones; pale as the light from a full moon, dusted softly with incandescent, shimmering gold.

Jude, no the rational voice inside her mind nearly screams. She clenches her hands into fists, a half second from running out the massive wooden door when Cardan’s voice startles her from her thoughts.

“Embrace me again,” he says in a voice that reminds her of another drunken request he made not too long ago; kiss me again, kiss me until I am sick of it.

Jude is weary, worn down, exhausted, the kind of tired that makes limbs sore and heavy as if she’d spent the whole day throwing rocks. In that exhaustion the Cardan-shaped wall built around her heart is lowered more than Jude would ever admit; she had refused him then, she doesn’t know if she can refuse him now.

“Go to bed Cardan” it’s as much of a refusal as she can muster with his eyes boring into hers, black and wanting. Her hand flicks out to point across the suite to Cardan’s ridiculously large bed.

“But I am your king, Jude I command it,” he grins like he’s gone mad but Cardan, who is less a living being than a fae revel given flesh and bone, looks horribly and unmistakably sad. It’s gone in a moment, replaced by feigned indifference so sharp it almost burns in his coal black eyes. But she had seen it there; a glimpse of the depth of his loneliness and misery.

“So I say again, embrace me and then I will concede and go to bed,” his tone is teasing, it does nothing to fool Jude.

She opens her mouth to speak but quickly shuts it. The feeling of slick, slimy guilt roils in her belly, guilt she often pushed aside in favor of anger and self-preservation. Cardan’s pain was not all her doing, she knew of his scars, on his skin and his soul, wrought from Baelkin’s hateful hands and the cruel indifference of Eldred.

But his position as High King, his empty life beneath a hollow crown was one she had thrust upon him through lies and deceit. Facing the truth of that in his eyes made bile crawl it’s way up her throat, and if Jude was honest with herself it shattered her heart into shards of broken glass threatening to shred her apart from the inside.

Guilt was not easy to feel, it was the feeling of admitting you had done wrong paired with the admission that you haven’t yet made it right. Jude had choked on guilt before but usually pushed it away, citing the safety of Oak and the stability of Elfhame; but those excuses fall apart like strips of wet paper when pit against the emptiness in Cardan’s gaze.

Jude curses herself, wishing for the days when she felt nothing but hatred for the High King, instead of the complicated mix of regret, shame, and desire she feels now. Swallowing thickly against her guilt, and before she can examine her own want too closely, Jude steps forward and wraps her arms around him, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

Cardan hesitates for a brief moment, before returning her embrace. Jude resists the urge to sink into his warmth, stops herself from tightening her arms and nuzzling her face into his neck; it’s power over her she won’t relinquish to him and an admission to herself she isn’t ready to face.

More than anything this moment feels fragile, as if Jude, mortal among fairies, human of the earth could break it with the snap of her fingers.

“I’m only doing this because I’m too tired to fight with you about going to bed,” she lies, to herself and to him.

Cardan doesn’t reply, simply holding her in a strong, steady embrace, his cheek resting light as a feather on her forehead. The unsteady balance brought on by Cardan’s overindulgence seems to evaporate as if, he too realizes how delicate this moment is. How easily it could shatter like a stone through glass.

She isn’t sure how much time passes as they stand there tangled up in each other, but her eyelids begin to droop as Cardan strokes lazy circles on her back with his thumbs.

In serious danger of dozing off Jude yawns deeply and steps back. Cardan’s hands bracket her waist as she pulls back and he makes no effort to remove them. The warmth of his palms seeping through her jacket keeps her heart pounding out a steady rhythm. She doesn’t know how to read into this small gesture of intimacy, if it means anything at all, so she simply ignores it.

“Alright, Your Majesty I indulged your wishes,” she stops another, smaller yawn with the back of her hand.

“Now to bed with you so I can go get in my own,” Jude points again in the direction of the vast expanse of pillows and spider silk sheets.

Cardan’s hands drop to his sides, he sways unsteadily as he turns, his drunken clumsiness returning now that the distance between them has broken whatever spell was cast over their embrace. She places a gentle hand on his lower back, when he leans into her touch Jude feels a rush of warmth as she walks him through his empty rooms.

“Careful with your orders Jude or I will tell everyone that you were kind to me,” he laughs though she can’t imagine why.

“Though I don’t think anyone would believe me,” he continues softly almost as if speaking to himself. She shakes her head though Cardan is too focused on his feet to notice. He doesn’t say the words with malice or venom but something twists in Jude’s chest all the same.

“You won’t remember this tomorrow anyway”.

She gives a gentle push as they reach his bed and Cardan flops down on the coverlet, gazing up at Jude in with something soft and yearning in his eyes. She leans over him, breath catching in her throat. The intensity of his gaze pins her to the spot.

“Oh Jude, loveliest of afflictions, I will remember this night for years to come.” He makes a move as if to reach for her, but Cardan’s hand falls back to his side as his eyes flutter closed.

“We’ll see about that tomorrow,” She makes a disbelieving noise and crosses her arms. Laughing softly as she takes in her disheveled High King.

Though Cardan’s eyes remain closed, his head turns in her direction as she laughs, as if he craves her laugh as she craves his; a moth to flame.

Jude backs away from the bed, retreating to the suites main door, but something stops her as she places a hand on the knob. Turning to peer over her shoulder she calls out softly through the dark chamber.

“Goodnight Cardan,” without waiting for his response she slips into the hall and flees toward her room.

By the time she reaches her chambers Jude is dead on her feet and desperate for the feel of her pillow against her cheek.

She strips off her weapons and clothes, tucking herself into bed instead of curling up in front of the fire as she most often does. It’s cold but the sheets and pillows are soft, as she relaxes into them. Sleep hovers nearby waiting to take her the moment she closes her eyes, but Jude stares up toward the ceiling keeping herself awake for a few more blissful moments.

Jude Duarte has made herself into a fearsome creature, one of the folk in spirit if nothing else. Tomorrow she will go back to her role as the High King’s seneschal, back to her knives, and seething looks, and harsh clothes. But tonight she will allow herself one small, indulgent moment of weakness and be simply; Jude Duarte, mortal girl.

Tonight she lies in bed and thinks of Cardan’s soft breath on her cheek, the stroke of this thumb on her back, the moonlight glow of his skin in the dimness of his chambers.

Jude isn’t sure exactly when she drifted off but her dreams are filled with yearning black eyes and strong steady arms. When she wakes she smiles to herself, wide and foolish, before donning the mask of seneschal once again.

[wylanvnneck]

Hi hi! Congratulations! Can I ask for a Jurdan shot with the prompt in miscellaneous, *kiss post break up*? Thank you 💖

Miscellaneous Prompt #4:  *A kiss post break-up that neither was expecting but both needed* (action prompt)

Fandom: TFOTA

Ship: Jurdan

Masterlist | Prompt List

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Jude relished the burning sensation in her thighs as she completed her third round of the massive fountain at the center of the park. The early morning air was cool and the sunshine was just starting to heat up the place, creating the perfect setting for her usual morning jog. This particular spot was practically deserted, the only sound to be heard was the chirping of the birds and the light rustle of the trees and this type of peace was precisely what she needed before yet another tough day at work where she’d have to deal with her asshole colleagues. Well, just the one colleague. Cardan Effin’ Greenbriar.

The thought of his smug face and ludicrous cheekbones was enough to make her quicken her pace, a bead of sweat making its way down the side of her flushed face. Thoughts of his betrayal flood her mind and she wonders how she could ever have thought of him as roguishly charming. The man was a scoundrel, a blackguard. He was also not worth thinking about. She pushes the image of his floppy black locks and dark eyes away from her mind and runs even faster, leaving all her problems behind. This moment is cathartic, it was escaping all her turmoil, it was freedom and she relishes it.

Suddenly, she picks up on the sound of a twig snapping nearby. Out of the corner of her eye she spots a figure moving behind her, walking slowly and close to the trees lining the pathway, as if they didn’t wish to be seen. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion and her mind whirs, defensive martial art positions running through her head. From a young age her father had instilled in her the dangers of being out alone in deserted spots and the importance of always watching her back and she’s now on high alert as the figure behind her seems to be trying to move even further into the trees, still only a few feet behind her.

Thinking fast, she turns at the next corner and ducks behind a thick tree to the side, crouching her body behind it. The wood is scratchy under her sweaty palms and her heartbeat is racing at a mile a minute, the tension cutting through her body like a sword. Her surroundings seem sharper, more vibrant in her anxiety and soon enough she hears the light footfalls of someone approaching the turn. Seconds later, the figure is almost right in front of her, stopping when he realises that she’s no longer on the path. Finally she manages to get a good look at him and when she does she can’t help but let out a shocked gasp.

“Jude?” Standing right there in front of her with a bemused expression is Cardan Greenbriar, her colleague and ex-fling. She refused to think of him as anything else. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“What am I doing? You’re the one who’s been following me like some perverted creep.” Stretching herself back to her full height she steps away from the tree and onto the path to face him, her eyes narrowing and her blood pounding. How dare he act as if she were the one acting bizarrely.

“I-” The tips of his ears turn red and his hands wring together, “That’s fair I suppose. I was just umm…”

“Yes?” His blundering manner is uncharacteristic and confusing. Usually, he was the most overly confident bastard out there. Cardan Greenbriar was the suave type of guy who always knew exactly what to say and when, a talent that made him extremely useful as Head of Sales for Elfhame Enterprises, the company owned by his father Eldred Greenbriar, where they both worked.

“I simply wanted to talk to you alone for a bit but I figured that you’d avoid me at work and avoid any calls and texts from me too so I thought I’d come meet you at the park on your daily jog instead.” The words come out in a fast-paced stream, nearly unintelligible, his cheeks now red as well.

“Let me get this straight, you wanted to talk to me alone so you decided to stalk me at the park on my morning run and nearly give me a panic attack in the process?” She almost can’t believe her ears.

“When you put it like that it sounds wrong!” He huffs.

“How exactly am I supposed to put it, Cardan, that’s exactly what you did!”

“Alright so I may have lost my nerve and decided to trail you for a bit before approaching you. I realise now that that was a dumb idea.”

She resists the age to facepalm. “You think?”

“Look can’t we just put this all behind us?”

She lets out a long-suffering sigh whilst bringing her hands up to lightly massage at her now throbbing temples. “Okay, you said you wanted to talk? About what?”

The entire time that they'd been talking his stare had been trained somewhere near her chin, but now he raises his gaze to directly meet hers. “About us.”

“There is no us.” He’d made certain of that.

He takes a step forward, eyes blazing and she takes a larger step backwards, determined to keep her distance.

“Jude, you have to give me a chance to explain, you owe me that at least.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

There was no possible explanation that he could give for what he’d done. They hadn't always been at loggerheads, her and Cardan. At least, they hadn’t been for some time until the last week. When Jude had first joined the company last year, she’d despised the overly arrogant son of Eldred Greenbriar, thinking of him as the rich, self-entitled jerk that she was forced to work with.

Then a couple months in, he managed to persuade her to go on a date with him, one date and then if she didn’t want to agree to another he’d get the message and move on. So she’d gone, expecting to hate every minute of it, except that she hadn’t. They’d actually gotten along surprisingly well, he’d taken her to a chill little Diner, not the over-the-top fancy restaurant that she thought he’d pick and he’d opened the car door for her like a gentleman. They had chatted for hours about their multitude of shared interests and drank Carlton beer and drunkenly waltzed together along the floor and it was perfect and wonderful and crazy.

After that they became an item, they would share heated interludes by the otherwise deserted office printing machine in true cliché Office Romance fashion and they’d even kissed under the mistletoe at the office Christmas party and things were going great, until one day, Jude overheard a conversation between him and his brother, Balekin Greenbriar, Eldred’s right hand man and future heir of the company.

She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, she was only coming into Balekin’s office to hand over a file when she’d recognised Cardan’s voice saying her name. She would never forget the words that she had heard him say. ‘She’s a distraction...only a pointless fling....thought it would be fun to get under her skin....you know I like a challenge’.

The memory of those words alone are enough to bring back the hurt that had ripped through her when she had stood motionless on the other side of Balekin’s door, desperate to get away but trapped by her own denial and desire for self destruction.

Now she watches as he agitatedly ruffles his unruly black locks in front of her. “I swear to you, what you heard me say to Balekin, I didn’t mean a word of it.”

“Then why would you say it?” She’s torn between turning tail and leaving him there, turning her back on him for good or staying and waiting for his explanation, waiting to hear his reasons, why he’d done this to her, to them.

“You don’t know my brother, Jude.” His voice, his expression, his everything is bleak and open and vulnerable, begging for understanding. “He takes pleasure in destroying the things I love. It’s a game to him, one he’s been playing all my life, taking away what stops me from being miserable, and I couldn’t let him do that with you.

“Not with you,” he repeats, stronger. “You’re too important. So I knew I had to convince him that you meant nothing to me.”

Everything about his demeanour suggests sincerity and it definitely seems like he’s telling the truth and she wants to believe him, to trust him, she really does.

But she’s been hurt before and she doesn’t think she could chance being so again.

“I can’t trust you.”

“Yes, you can. You can choose to.” He steps forward now, close, so close, unrelenting.

She rises to the occasion and raises her face to meet his, a scant inch between them. “No, I can’t. I won’t.”

It’s a standoff now, neither willing to back down. The sun has made it’s way much higher in the sky and the yellow sunlight is beating down on them, the heat adding to the fire that has ignited between them.

“Stop being so stubborn, dammit,” he bites out, frustrated.

“Make me,” she sneers.

She doesn’t know how it happened, nor how she didn’t see it coming, but in the very next second Cardan’s lips are on hers, moving furiously and his arms are on her waist, holding her against him in an almost punishing grip.

It appears that he hadn’t quite seen it coming either because he pulls away from her before she has time to process more than a tingle running up her arms, his dark eyes wide and pupils dilated. They’re both breathing fast now, so close that they share breaths. They stare for a moment.

Then, with lightning speed she throws caution to the winds and wraps her arm around his neck, crashing her lips to his once more and this time she registers that his lips are soft under hers and he tastes like hot chocolate and breath mint and it feels glorious. It’s only been a little more than a week since they’d last kissed, but it felt like an eternity.

Minutes, hours, or days later they break apart, gasping for air and clutching at each other, neither one willing to relinquish their grip. Cardan rests his forehead on hers and looks at her with a startling amount of adoration and she knows right then and there that, scary as the thought is, she would forgive him anything, including this.

“Give me another chance?” He asks, pleading.

“Yes,” she breathes before reaching up to lose herself in kisses once more.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I’m not entirely happy with this one tbh, but anyways here you go @franktastic-fangirl, thank you for sending in the prompt and for the congrats!🌻

Tagging my taglist (although I’m not entirely sure that I want y’all to read this, lol)- @cupcakesandkittens ​, @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln ​, @thewickedkings ​ and @kittkatandbooboo ​💕

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off of my TFOTA taglist :)

[scarletaire]

homeland (Chapter 1)

A/N: Welcome to my very first multi-chaptered fic! Would love to know what you think ❤️

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Genre/s: Contains Fluff, Slight Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Smut

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Post-QON, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Protective!Cardan, Bewildered!Jude, Jude and Cardan discuss the Undersea, but they get a little Distracted

Description: 

Cardan’s eyes flash open.

“Why?” he repeats, and Jude feels the power shift between them. “Don’t you remember, wife?” he croons. “It was the Undersea who stole you away from me.” 

And Jude has only enough time to think, danger, before he lunges at her.

or:

Cardan and Jude work on removing their armor. Taking off this particularly stubborn piece happens in varying states of undress.

Links: Masterlist | AO3 

Jude wakes at the brush of Cardan’s tail against the back of her knee. 

It tickles more than anything, and it’s this that shoves her into wakefulness. Growing up as a human in Faerie has not afforded Jude the luxury of graceful sleep. She comes into consciousness like a soldier, eyes open wide and trying to make sense of her surroundings. 

Cardan watches her from the far side of the bed. 

Jude furrows her brows. The sun is low in the sky, and it casts their room into burnished amber. It lines the angles of Cardan’s face with gold and shadow, and with the length of his body reposed before her, he is unearthly. Untouchable. She thinks she could still be dreaming right now.

Until she notices the distant look in his eyes.

She peers past the drowsy haze of sunset, taking in the way his tail lashes low and distracted across his body. He probably hadn’t meant to wake her from the looks of it. His tail often moves with a mind of its own. 

She stretches out a hand across the space between them, the sheets of their bed cool and empty against the backs of her fingers. “Cardan?” 

They had gone to sleep as they usually did, curled together and limbs tangled. It was the common way things were after they began sharing their marriage bed in earnest months ago. 

This is new. 

“Jude,” he says in reply, and in his voice, she hears something she doesn’t understand. 

It strikes in her an unfamiliar urge to soothe. It’s a human thing, one that she hasn’t had reason to attend to while being raised in a redcap’s stronghold. She’s not quite sure what caused it, what it was in the way he whispered her name. All she knows is that it makes her want to shift closer. 

Cardan has an unnerving ability to bring out the human in her, despite her best efforts, despite her being High Queen of Elfhame. 

She reaches out a hand, and he – unearthly, untouchable – lets her brush a knuckle across his cheek. She waits. 

He says nothing. 

Undeterred, she tries to brush a curl of ink black hair away from his eyes. They burn. 

She pauses. 

He is holding himself preternaturally quiet, and still. So still, the way only fae can. An animal sort of stillness, she thinks. 

Within the next heartbeat, Jude understands that gentle is not what Cardan needs right now. 

Alright. This she knows how to do. 

Her fingers, previously resting at his temple, move to tangle in his hair. She pulls hard enough to make him hiss. “What is it?” She tightens her hold. “What happened?” 

His black gem eyes go clear with pain – and something else. Something darker. “A nightmare,” he breathes, finally.

She narrows her eyes, thinking about the tense line of his shoulders.

When he doesn’t elaborate, she slips a little bit closer. For better leverage. He tracks her movement across the bed. 

From this distance, her nails rake a path down his temple and the side of his face. She digs her fingers in when she reaches his jawline, feels the way he clenches it in response. “Tell me.” 

Something cruel pulls the corner of his mouth upward. “You shall like very little of it.” 

He smiles when he’s nervous, Jude reminds herself. 

She leans in close enough to see how the skin of his jaw is going white against the half-moons of her nails. “Tell me anyway.” 

His eyes close. She thinks she sees a little of defeat in the way he leans into the rough grip of her fingers. “I dreamt,” he whispers into the waiting air, “of the Undersea.” And even in the warmth of the bed they share together, something cold slithers up Jude’s spine. 

“Why?” she demands, before she can think better of it.

They haven’t talked much about her kidnapping. He’d almost forsaken his kingdom in exchange for her, and that was more than her heart, then so unsure and betrayed by her exile, could understand. 

But now, there is space to wonder. 

(“When you were gone—truly gone beneath the waves—I hated myself as I never have before.”)

Cardan’s eyes flash open. “Why?” he repeats, and Jude feels the power shift between them. “Don’t you remember, wife?” he croons. “It was the Undersea that stole you away from me.” 

And Jude has only enough time to think, danger, before he – 

– lunges at her – 

Jude’s back hits the bed with a thud, and Cardan leans on his elbows over her, the unforgiving weight of him pressing her into the mattress. This time, it is his hand that grips her chin, the raw emotion in his dark eyes at odds with the careful way he tilts her face up to his. “They hid you away for weeks.”

“I clawed my way out of there,” she says, a little breathlessly. “I didn’t let them keep me.” 

The slant of his mouth grows crueller. “Darling, I had to forge a treaty for you.” 

Indignation sparks in her, at the reminder of her weakness. “I didn’t ask you to – ”

Cardan swoops in, and Jude holds her breath as his lips come perilously close to hers. “Do not mishear me, Jude Duarte Greenbriar,” he says softly, so softly. “I would have done anything to get you back.” 

Jude sucks in another breath, because Cardan has suddenly dropped his mouth to the tender skin of her neck. 

“Anything,” he says, and his lips ghost the words behind her ear as he speaks. “Everything.” 

It’s instinct that has her spreading her legs, letting the weight of him make a home in the cradle of her thighs. He settles against her body like he belongs there. 

“Do you understand that, Jude?” he asks. “Can you?” 

He presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss at the base of her throat, and Jude wonders at how something so small can be felt all the way down to her toes. 

Still, his words have dredged up memories she thought were long past. They are vivid in her mind now: the dampness of the dark cell, the ache of her exhausted body, the cold brush of Balekin’s lips – 

“They did all that they could,” she says, because suddenly it’s like she has something to prove, “but I did not let them break me.” 

Cardan tenses, his forehead resting on the softness of her cheek. 

“Don’t you remember?” she asks him now. “I came for you the very same night they released me.” 

Something passes over the length of his body, and pressed against him so closely like this, Jude can recognize it for what it is: a shudder.

“Oh, Jude,” he breathes into the line of her jaw. “I dreamt that you didn’t.” 

What had he said? A nightmare. 

“There was nothing left of you to ransom for,” he continues, face hidden in the crook of her neck. “Nothing but salt and seafoam.” And there, in their ridiculously large bed with the cobweb canopy billowing in a sunset breeze, the High King of Elfhame begins to tremble.

Jude is frozen underneath him. “Cardan,” she whispers, because there is nothing else she can say. No one that she can remember has ever cared for her like this before. 

Another shudder passes through him at the sound of his name. And suddenly, he is moving closer, something like desperation igniting the insistent press of his body over hers as he tries to burrow his face deeper into her collarbone. 

“I dove into the water,” he says, and she feels every word dance on the sensitive skin of her neck, “and it was cold and it was dark, but I swam and I searched, and I couldn’t find you.” His hands fist into the gossamer skirts of her nightgown. 

Jude grits her teeth. She is powerless in the wake of his heartache. She doesn’t know what to do. This is an enemy she has never faced before. 

“I would have done everything,” he repeats, lost. She gets the feeling that he isn’t speaking entirely just to her anymore. 

In this liminal space between waking and dreaming, Cardan duels with the imaginary horrors of his nightmare, and Jude holds on as tight as she can. 

The rocking starts with the intention to soothe. Jude thinks of Oriana, calming a restless Oak in the cradle of her arms. She thinks of her mother, wrapping her in an embrace that swept her back and forth. She thinks of Cardan’s mother, Lady Asha, and how she most likely never held her son the way mothers do. 

So Jude begins to sway, as best as she can with the weight of him all along the front of her body. There is so much of him to hold, almost too much because he is so much bigger than her, but she will hold him. She will hold all of him until he no longer needs her. 

A different kind of tremor passes through Cardan’s body when he feels her moving under him. She runs a hand through the hair at the base of his neck, gently scraping with the tips of her nails. Cardan seems to melt into her more, a long, faint breath easing out of him. 

Soon, he starts to sway with her. Just a simple accompaniment of his body with hers. Against hers. Beat and tempo are but second language to the king of Faerie and his many revels.

He continues to murmur in her ear, as if the words are a refrain he cannot get out of his head. “Everything,” he is saying. “My everything, Jude.” The words are both vow and reassurance all at once. She feels them seep into her bones. 

Cardan moves over her, trembling no longer. The mattress dips under their combined weight. 

There’s a certain whiplash to all of this. She’s supposed to be the one comforting him, and yet now it is he who is whispering sweetly into the quickly heating skin of her neck. It is he who guides their bodies into an altogether different kind of rhythm. 

Jude’s fingers clench into his bare shoulders. His habit of wearing nothing to bed has carried over into their marriage. She feels the overwhelming warmth of him all over her, the wisps of her nightgown a paltry barrier. 

Their hips press flush, and Jude knows it wasn’t intentional, but he’s right there between her thighs, and the way he’s rolling against her is now wickedly familiar. 

Or maybe he had meant it. Maybe this is how she can give him the comfort he needs –

There is no mistaking the rocking of their bodies now.

They are similar in this regard, in this need for something to fight with, to move against.  She will be the sentinel at his back as he wrestles with the phantom of his dreams.

Cardan surfaces from the crook of her neck like he is surfacing from cold water. She brings him down to her, until they are nose to nose, until she can see the last dregs of his nightmare swirling in the depths of his eyes. 

The words spill from him like a confession. “In the darkest shadows of my heart,” he tells her, hushed against the backdrop of the dying sun, “I wondered if I should ever see you again.”

And Jude thinks of the many, long months of her exile. Of how he had fought to keep her when Madoc stole her back as Taryn. She remembers the way he had clutched her to him after she beheaded the cursed snake. This isn’t just about the Undersea. 

“I came for you,” she reminds him. “I came back for you.” And then she rolls her hips up to meet his. 

Cardan groans. 

All traces of innocence evaporate. 

He descends upon her with a new vigor. She rises up under him with purpose simmering in her blood. Their bodies collide, and collide again, and he grasps her by the waist to hike her up higher. She wraps her legs around his hips, feels the length of him through the insubstantial fabric of her underwear. 

He dances, she fights, and in this, they move together. 

But first, she needs him to understand something. 

Jude pulls on his hair again, now a mess of black curls from her fingers. She wants the pain to remind him just who exactly he has pinned beneath him. His Queen, his wife, his equal. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promises harshly, and then takes her teeth to the base of his throat. 

His assent is a broken moan against her forehead. He spreads her knees wider, and grinds down in retaliation. He hits that spot between her legs, and Jude chokes back a whimper. 

“I want you with me for always.” His breathing is ragged. His pace is ceaseless. “Do you believe me?” 

Her body is hot all over, and he feels so good right there, she rocks her hips up because she wants him to do it again, more – 

She can feel his cock now, hard and hot against the quickly dampening fabric between her thighs. It’s blessed friction, but it’s not enough. 

“Do you believe me?” he says again. When she doesn’t answer right away, he digs into her again, running the length his cock up and down the seam of her underwear. The tip of it rubs against her clit, not quite hard enough, with every pass. 

Something like a whine escapes her lips. She can almost feel the beginnings of an orgasm curling low in her body, if only he would just – 

“Say yes, Jude.” It’s almost a plea, sealed with a strategic roll of his hips that has her arching up from the bed. And there, in his need for her confirmation, for her validation, Jude feels another piece of armor fall away between them. “Say yes.”

He’s crushing her, with the sheer weight of him all down the length of her hypersensitive body, with the magnitude of the meaning behind his words. 

She is surrounded by him, his chest pressed against hers. He is all she sees when she opens her eyes, not realizing that she had closed them in the first place. His eyes scorch as he looks down at her, dark with desire – and the need for her to believe. 

A small wildness charges the air between them. He knows her body so well now, knows exactly how to angle the next flex of his hips – 

“Yes,” Jude gasps. 

Cardan grins, slow and full of wicked intent. 

He bends down low again, ready to whisper another naughty pledge, ready to press a kiss to her wanting lips, ready to finally take that sinful mouth and those clever fingers and finish what he started – 

Three knocks, rapid like gunfire, ricochet through the room.  

_____________

End Note: 

😈

Look out for the next chapter hopefully within the next couple of weeks! The King and Queen need to address their little interruption, and Jude still has her own confession to make.

This fic started because Jude and Cardan needed to talk about the Undersea, and the repercussions of Jude’s kidnapping. I like to think that they both have their own hangups about what happened, and this is my humble exploration into how they possibly worked it out between them post-canon.

With added sexytimes, of course.

My inbox is open, so feel free to come shout about fic and fandom with me on my tumblr!

[laequiem]

Mal d’amour - Part 6

/5 times the High King of Elfhame missed his exiled wife + 1 time she had enough.

"Jude," I gasp, "you're here." "Yes," she presses her sword against my throat enough to sting, "and I will slit your throat before you can call the guards. So don't." I narrow my brows. "Why would I call the guards?" She's here. She's back. I know I should be terrified. Jude scares me, usually. Yet, today, it’s as if I do not care if she kills me. Seeing her one last time is worth my spilled blood.

TW: Vomit. Not very descriptive, but it’s there.

Read on ao3 • masterlist • part 1 • part 2 • part 3 • part 4 • part 5

It is still bright outside when I regain consciousness and leave the cellars. I sway as I walk the hallways of the palace, willing my body to keep all this alcohol down and not make a fool of myself in public. The guards standing in front of my rooms look worried when they see the state I am in, but they let me in without a word.

With no one around to witness me so low, I head straight to the bathroom and kneel in front of the porcelain throne.

High King, indeed.

The alcohol tastes worse now that it did when I drank it and I relish in how terrible I feel. I deserve it. The burning, the pain, the shame. Perhaps I should not have waited to reach my rooms, the people of Elfhame deserve to see what a wretch their ruler is.

I get up and head to the sink. I barely recognize the male staring at me in the mirror. I have not bothered with makeup in days now, and the old remnants of it smudge down under my eyes. I strip away my days-old clothes, then I wet a cloth and wash my mouth, my face.

When I leave my bathing room, I am immediately pinned against a wall, cold steel pressing against my throat. I wait for the dread and fear to kick in, but it does not come until I lower my gaze towards my assailant and notice the pure rage in her stare.

"Exiling me was not enough, you had to also add insult to injury?" 

"Jude," I gasp, "you're here."

"Yes," she presses her sword against my throat enough to sting, "and I will slit your throat before you can call the guards. So don't."

I narrow my brows. "Why would I call the guards?"

She's here.

She's back.

I know I should be terrified. Jude scares me, usually. Yet, today, it’s as if I do not care if she kills me. Seeing her one last time is worth my spilled blood.

"I thought we were past being horrible to each other, Cardan," she spits my name like a curse and I wince at the reminder of how horrible I used to be, "this taunt you sent me is cruel even for you!"

Silver lines her eyes, unshed tears threatening to drop, and I clamp my hands at my side to prevent myself from reaching for her. 

"Jude, I…” I let out a nervous laugh and her upper lip curls, “I never sent you any taunts.”

She snarls and removes something from her pocket.

"Yeah? What is this then?"

She waves a piece of paper around, one that was clearly crumpled but she tried to flatten as much as possible. I narrow my eyes to focus on what is written on it, but she is moving it too quickly even for my fae senses.

"Can you remove your sword and let me read it," I swallow my pride and add, "please?"

Jude pulls away her sword, still gripping it tightly. She gives me the note and I recognize it immediately as the one I asked the Court of Shadow to deliver.

"This is… the last plea of a desperate male," I look away from her, my cheeks heating with the shame of the confession, "I know you never replied the other letters and I should have taken the hint, but—"

I hide my face with my free hand. 

"I couldn't give up without telling you… this," I wave the note like she did earlier.

I can't get myself to say the words, not when she looks at me like that. Like she sees everything that I am, the fear, the want, the loneliness.

She backs away, sheaths her sword and paces the room. I just stand there, dumbfounded. Eventually, she settles on the rolled arm of an armchair and crosses her arms. When she looks at me again, her eyes widen and she looks away, suddenly realizing how naked I am. I would tease her for being prudish if it weren't for the fact that I am walking on eggshells

"Say it," she orders. She rolls her eyes when I narrow mine in confusion, "say what's on the paper. Out loud."

I realize that she wants to make sure I am not lying. She must not know that I cannot even write falsehoods. It is what makes agreements between territories so long and boring—rulers arguing over wording, trying to weave loopholes that could be used in their favour.

I walk the few meters separating us, then drop to my knees in front of her. Her gaze snaps back to me as I take her hands in mine.

"I miss you, Jude, my Queen," I bring her hand to my mouth and gently kiss her ring finger. "Stay with me, I beg you."

Jude removes a hand from mine and reaches for her belt. I had not noticed before that she had something hanging there. She removes the fabric covering it, revealing the crown I commissioned for her. It is dented and one of the jewels missing.

"Suppose I believe you, why this?"

I stand up and pick up the crown. I run my thumb over a particularly bad dent. Did it get damaged as it traveled?

"To remind you what you fought for. I shouldn't have, I know,” I sigh, “I couldn't… fathom why you would stay there. Why you chose not to come back."

"I was banished, Cardan! You—" she grunts, "put some clothes on! I can't yell at you when you look like… that."

I raise a brow and run a hand through my hair, "Like what you see?" 

Her face gets redder, her frown deeper. It’s so, so easy to tease her. 

"No!” she snaps.

"Ah,” I turned away, making for my closet, “I didn't know human males could even compare."

"That's not it—" a snort, "Vivi did try. She wanted me to… date. We created a profile on one of those apps."

I have no idea what “apps” are, but I feel a weight lifting from my shoulders at the casual conversation. The confiding tone. I put on my robe, tying it at my waist. 

"I don't know their customs. They see that I don't belong."

I look back to the room and find her standing next to the window, looking out towards the mortal realm. She is holding the crown I sent her, admiring how the daylight reflects on its gems.

"You belong here,” I say softly.

She whirls on me, her eyes full of renewed rage.

"Will you STOP? You don't get to say that. Not after what you did,” she crosses her arms again, “If you really missed me, why didn't you come get me?"

I flinch, thinking back to the Bomb asking me the same question.

"You ignored my letters. I thought that was your way of telling me you were done with my kind."

"I never received any letter."

I roll my eyes, “I understand that you’re angry, Jude dearest, but don’t lie. Not about that.”

“I’m serious. Radio silence, for all these months.”

My heart drops. The Bomb was right, my letters never made it to her. My chest aches with a new kind of dread. By giving up, by not being pushy enough, did I cause her suffering? I always lacked ambition. It is only fitting that my faults cause her more pain.

“I suppose that saves me some embarrassment,” I laugh nervously as she turns back to the window, “some of them were quite… pathetic."

Jude does not reply. She keeps staring out in the distance, her fingers absentmindedly stroking the iron or the crown. I approach the window where she stands and look out.

“I somehow managed not to burn it to the ground,” I look to her and smirk, “yet.”

“You’re terrible,” she replies, and I swear I can hear a smile in her tone.

“I need you to keep me in check.”

I turn to her and gently take the crown from her hands. It burns my hands, the skin blistering from the iron, but I ignore it. For a moment, I just stare at it.

“Elfhame needs to know her High Queen," I raise my eyes to hers, "Jude Duarte, will you rule with me?"

She does not answer me, her lips clamped in a tight line.

"Do you wish for me to propose again?" I push.

A small smile creeps on her face and my knees threaten to buckle at the sight. 

"Maybe. I do like seeing you on your knees," she lifts an eyebrow.

"Don't push your luck," I reply with a grin.

She laughs and it is the most beautiful sound I have heard in months. Even she seems surprised by it, her eyes widening.

I ask again, this time softer, "Will you rule with me?"

Her throat bobs. She looks to the crown, back to me and finally answers, "yes."

The smile that blooms on my face is wide and genuine. I lift the crown above her head and, after brushing a strand of hair back in place, place it upon her head.

When I pull away, I let my hand linger, a knuckle brushing against her cheek gently.

"Welcome back, my High Queen."