#Greenbriar boys all come the same

[slarxsa]

Jude: Threatens to end him with various weapons.

Cardan: HOT.

Wren: Locks him in the dungeons of her palace and ignores him for ages.

Oak: HOT.

[bafflement]

Deaged Oz AU - After The Meeting

Tip looked up as a knock sounded at the door to the set of rooms they all shared in Atlas. He wasn't expecting anyone, but everybody else was away at the moment. He shrugged, putting his book down and getting to his feet, maybe they were after Qrow?

Moving over to the door, though, it revealed a boy not much older than Tip was, who blinked down at him in surprise.

"Uh... Wintertip Pine?" The boy enquired, sounding rather doubtful.

Tip nodded. "Yes, that would be me. Why?" His hand crept towards the hilt of his rapier as he spoke, though, eyes busily scanning for anyone else that might have come with the boy. To catch him alone was rare enough that this just seemed to scream 'trap' to him.

"I have something I need to deliver to you. Your eyes only, though... I was expecting you to be rather older?" The boy shrugged and held out a bound scroll. Tip took it, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Any idea what this is about?" He asked, hoping to at least get some context clues from the strange event. Though he doubted Salem would have provided any written evidence of her plans if it was actually her, that would be so far out of character that... well, never mind.

He slit the seal open and scanned the contents, stopping halfway through to adjust his glasses slightly. The paper was a strange shade of almost purple, though the ink seemed normal enough. Was it... scented? His eyebrow rose further upon the discovery that yes, yes it was... this was not exactly normal correspondance to send to an eleven year old.

He noted the name and almost smiled. Lady Greenbriar had been the older woman on Atlas Council, the one that had taken none of James' attitude and had seemed to recognise him. He had no real memory of her, but maybe this meeting could change that?

She wanted him to come alone, which was slightly problematic, but she had specified a time about an hour from now, the others wouldn't be back yet. If he was quick enough, maybe they'd never need to know? He was pretty sure she wouldn't harm him, at least.

He smiled at the boy who'd delivered it and nodded to him. "Please inform her that I'll be there and thank you." The boy looked weirdly more intimidated by Tip's calm acknowledgement of what was really a summons than he had to delivering the letter. Ah well, maybe this wasn't the normal reaction, but Tip was highly curious now...

Picking out clothing took less time than it might have, had the lady in question not probably once been a friend of his father's. Ah well, at least Winter might be happy that he'd chosen Schnee colors for this? It felt slightly manipulative, but it could give him an advantage if the talk went south... and if Winter found out where he was, he knew she tended to be more gentle when reminded forcefully that they were related.

Brothers, but he hated doing that... he wasn't a child, he wasn't helpless... he wasn't even really that sickly anymore with the help of his aura. They needed to stop treating him as though he would break, he was an accomplished Huntsman, after all...

He froze in the doorway to the room where he had been told to meet her. She wasn't alone, a man sat with her who was familiar. Why was Lark Winchester of all people here, though? He was aware that like the Ironwoods... and the Schnee's, the Winchesters had lost a child to that same kidnapping circle, but why would he be interested in Tip, of all people? He wasn't Wren Winchester, after all... he couldn't bring her back.

A flash, then, briefest memory hitting. Wren, her blonde hair and her... oh no... her bright green eyes. He shook himself out of it, though. He had to be imagining things.

"So, this is the child you wanted me to meet, my lady?" Lark's voice was light, but his eyes were hard as he stared at the tousle haired little boy.

"Does he really look that unfamiliar to you, Lark?" Lady Greenbriar's tone held laughter, her eyes soft as she, too, looked at Tip.

"I..." Lark broke off, sweeping a second, more assessing look over Tip. He shook his head slightly, looked again. Tip felt rather like an insect under the microscope at that point, but suppressed the feeling. His shoulders straightened as he met Lark's eyes.

Lark Winchester, pillar of the community in Atlas that he was, proud chairman of the Winchester Military Equipment Company, started to swear. Lady Greenbriar looked impressed. Tip just grinned at him, which seemed to set off a fresh round of profanity, slowly getting more impressive before Lark regained control of himself.

"... Winter?" It wasn't really a question, though. Tip nodded, grin more rueful now and Lark just closed his eyes briefly.

"What happened to you? How are you... why are you...? You know what? Never mind, that can wait. I'm just so damn glad you're alive!"

Tip blushed, even as Lady Greenbriar sighed. "Unfortunately there's more to it than that, Lark. It turns out that little Winter Schnee here is the wizard."

"Excuse me?" Lark stated it flatly, disbelief in every iota of his body language.

"Unfortunately, yes." Tip agreed, calmly. He adjusted his hold on The Long Memory pointedly and Lark's eyes flew to the cane.

He promply started swearing again.

[unrelaxing]

media list (29.01.2024 - 04.02.2024)

👂 Listened:

Albums:

Something To Give Each Other by Troye Sivan (2023) [1/10, I hated this album so much I basically stuck to re-listens for the rest of the week.)

Podcasts:

Morbid [This week was really Jack The Ripper week, and boy was it sad. Morbid did an amazing job in really going through the lives of each of the victims, and it really made it all the more tragic because all of these women led incredibly hard lives and wanted so desperately to make it.] Episodes: ⤷ EP 343-344, 346-347, 349: Jack The Ripper Pt. 1-5 ⤷ EP 337: The Greenbriar Ghost ⤷ The Bermondsey Horror

The Rest Is History [I think what I remember most from this podcast is one of the hosts making fun of The Guardian and finding out they were a conservative, and then thinking about what it means to learn about history from that lens, especially when it comes to discussions about colonisation and such. Their episode on Black Britain did have a black person come on and talk about their own family history and the book they'd written about the topic, so they were a both a subjective and objective expert, which I appreciated, though I think by the hosts' awkwardness when it came to asking questions I should've realised? But I genuinely thought that was just 'I am the coloniser you're talking about' awkwardness.] Episodes: ⤷ EP 411: The Man In The Iron Mask ⤷ EP 401: Windrush - The Story of Black Britain ⤷ EP 400: Victorian Britain's Maddest Mystery

Tooth & Claw: Tiger Shark Attack - The Shark Arm Murder Case [This was covered on Buzzfeed Unsolved, but I was interested to hear about this from a shark-focused perspective, though it did end up being a lot about the case too.]

📖 Read:

Articles:

Can A World Without Prisons Ever Be Pragmatic? by Nathan J. Robinson from transformharm.org [I loved the bit in this article about how it's actually quiet easy to reconcile prison abolition and prison reform as different steps in an agenda that focuses primarily on dismantling unjust systems.]

Books:

Luck In The Shadows by Lynn Flewelling [in progress, still not finished, but made good headway this week. Alec deserves the world - I feel like Flewelling does an amazing job at creating a character who is unused to Situations and who doesn't have the same knowledge about other things while still being incredibly competent and smart. I love him to pieces!]

📺 Watched:

Youtube:

Taiwan's Most Infamous Case | The Pai Hsiao-Yen Incident from Lazy Masquerade

[visd3stele]

can you write a oneshot post TWK where during Jude’s exile Jude is about to get married to a mortal man and Cardan stops the wedding?

yep, thank you for requesting :)

hope you like it 💛

'Til death do you apart

TW: abandoment issues and angsty angsty angst (with a bit of fluff at the end and bitter sweet happy ending)

A/N: A good first half of this is... emotional, to put it that way. Got a bit too much in the character's head and added my own sour mood as it happens when I write. But there is a happy handing, so yey! right? Also, I know it was supposed to (may)be short(er), sorry for letting myself go with the flow like that. All in all, I'd hate to take out any paragraphs, it wouldn't be the same and it's not my worst piece to be honest. What do you think?

masterlist ; requests

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Cardan's raven hair seemed to consume the yellow light pouring in the royal chambers through a huge window. All in Elfhame slept peacefully in their beds, but the king was wide awake, scribbling nervously on a piece of paper. The dark green feather of his quill bounced in the air as Cardan tapped its nib on the letter, letting a pool of blue forming around Jude's name.

The dark eyed boy brushed a hand over his face. Water slipped from the corners of his eyes, tears from the lack of sleep, he'd insist. The lopsided crown has finally fallen off his head, but Cardan didn't bother to pick it up. Like he didn't bother to change his visibly wrinkled white flannel shirt or the pants he wore to bed a couple of days ago.

Purple bags hanged under his lashes and red vines swam in the white of his eyes. It hurts when he blinked, but he couldn't rest. Not if it meant seeing her face. At least when he was awake Jude was a voice in the back of his mind, a name written in bold on his brain. But when he closed his eyes, Cardan saw her face. Her chestnut hair swiping around her splashed in droplets of her enemies' blood cheeks. Her big brown eyes catching the sunlight like autumn leaves. Her fit body, twirling in a fight as she draws knife after knife from her bodice.

"Your majesty?" A small, pale orange fairy dragged its wings inside. The same poor soul that'd come every day to deliver Cardan's letters to the mortal land. But the fairy stopped in its tracks. Usually, the High King wound hand over the neat piece of paper without even looking. But now, the king's head rested on his knuckles as his chin pressed against his fist.

"Leave," he said, not hiding the disaster he became. Exiling Jude has been a wrong call. He's been a fool to think she'll come back once she's freed of him. Sure, she married him. Only to secure her power, to further her plans. The thought wouldn't leave him alone. And what else did he expect? Cardan hoped Jude would be proud of his cleverness, but aren't most fairies silver tongued? Cardan hoped he'd prove himself worthy of the girl who bargained for his heart and didn't even realized it. But the only reason she stayed was for the crown. For Oak and Elfhame.

It could have been laughable if Cardan's heart didn't feel like lead in his chest. Jude Duarte, a mortal girl, caring more about his kingdom's well being than himself. Being a better fae than himself. Maybe that's why she left for good as soon as she could. Because there is no way his Jude, sly and fearless as she is, able to plot against the folk and the merfolk, didn't solve his little riddle. The only possible option is that: she is choosing to stay in the mortal land. Of course! She must have realized the truth about Cardan. That no matter what he does, he can't ever be more than a source of entertainment. That no matter what he thinks, wishes for or says, he'll always be the stain on the Greenbriar name.

The small fairy rushed outside, not daring to question the High King. Not since the weather outside worsened considerably in the spawn of minutes. Not since the earth became more and more rotten by day.

Cardan rose on wiggly feet, stumbling over his own shoes towards the golden cabinet. From there he took another bottle of wine, opening it with his teeth and gulping a quarter of it down in one setting. A strangled cry left his lips when his legs ceased and he fell on his knees. The king stayed there, unfinished letter forgotten. He should leave her alone, after all. Jude must have a good laugh at him, pathetically begging her to return to a home she never wanted. It's been months and the lack of response from his wife should've been enough of a clue about her feelings.

With one more sip, he laid on the cold floor, tail wrapped around himself like he hadn't done since childhood. And the king of Elfhame drifted to a dreamless sleep.

Meanwhile, in a beautifully decorated booth in an expensive restaurant, a man dropped to one knee in front of Jude, holding a small, velvet wrapped red box open for her to see a glistening ring. Upon seeing it, Jude's fingers moved on their own around the stolen ruby ring. One that belonged to another Jude, another life - hell! Another realm altogether.

That girl had high ambitions. She thought she could change the world, play an eons long game and actually win. That girl has pushed love, romanticism, so far down she didn't recognized it anymore. And it has been her demise.

While her lips moved and the one word came out to seal her fate, Jude remembered another proposition. Less formal, less sparkling and romantic, but more at the same time. More intimate, more real. Cardan has stolen her heart with that ring, she recorded. She has been so impressed and a thimble of pride clouded her heart for just one bit when the cruel prince swiped it off the first time. And when he gave it back, asking for her hand with it, her soul has already been opened for him.

"Yes," Jude said. And it was easier than the first time. Simple, as she thought it should be. No hint of a thrill ran down her spine, no excitement tumbled in her mind. She should be happy, content. Chasing adrenaline and victory costed her greatly. It ruined her. But all Jude felt as she stepped into the warm embrace of the man, with soft eyes, enough to heat up a frozen soul, was cold. A paralyzing, dreadful, painful cold.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Taryn chewed on her lips standing before the majestic throne. She waited for Cardan, crumpling and folding back the formal invitation she received from her twin. The mild Duarte sister couldn't believe her eyes the first three times she read it, but sure enough, Jude was getting married. And since Locke was nowhere to be found, she needed someone else to help her pass through realms.

Cardan's foggy mind took in the image of the great hall, heart skipping a beat and breath catching in his throat when he saw her. "Jude?" He whispered to himself, the terrible, familiar headache being the only thing stopping him from running forward, scooping her in his arms and kissing her poisonously sweet lips.

But as he got closer and his senses came back in their rights, Cardan realized. Taryn. Not the sister he wanted. The sister he needed. His temper threatened to lash out, even though part of him knew the timid girl in front of the throne was not to blame for raising his hopes and then deflecting him. But Cardan was tired. So, so tired. Too much to do anything but simply dropping himself on the throne, leaning his back on one of its arms and swaying his legs over the other.

"Well?" He said, in the same way he'd have done it if he was still just a forgotten prince who still required submission from the folk. Cardan wondered if such a miserable state was the norm for him, if no one seemed to notice him digging holes into his heart.

"I'm terribly sorry to bother you, your majesty!" Taryn started and Cardan winced. The same voice, yet so humble, obedient, fearful. If the mortal girl's audience wouldn't end soon, the king thought he might do something he'll regret later. For such a perversion of his brave, wonderful, commanding Jude he couldn't stand.

"I know my husband, Locke, is one of your great friends," Cardan had to dig his nails in his palms to keep from rolling his eyes. Instead, he waved a hand in acknowledgement and waited for Taryn to continue. "And I was wondering if you could help me because of that."

"Locke needs a good story to keep him occupied," Cardan said condescendingly. "Find new games to play and you'll never lose his interest. That's all?"

Taryn's cheeks reddened. "That wasn't- I mean, I didn't..." she took a breath. "I need to pass to the mortal land. Quickly. My husband is... busy, and Madoc's estate is a bit off limits since we're having different opinions on my current domestic life. So I'm asking you," Taryn seemed to consider her words for a second, then added "if it's not too much trouble, your majesty."

"Pass through...?" Cardan's eyes lit up, an ember of the mischief and life that once dwelled in them. "What for, pry tell?"

"My sister's wedding, your majesty."

The king straightened, ringed fingers gripping the edges of the throne's arms, tail flipping forcefully behind him. "Which sister?" He asked as a wrinkle formed between his eyebrows.

"My twin, Jude. Is everything alright, sire?" Taryn furrowed her brows when Cardan jumped to his feet, clenching his jaws. His black eyes burned with fury, tail whipping the air aching to wrap itself around the unknown groom's neck. A hurricane of emotions flashed through him: jealousy, anger and hatred. But all that only to cover the greatest one from all, pain. Thinking he has been yet again abandoned by someone he loved, forgotten as she moved on with her life while he's stuck and forever will be, he knows it, is one thing. Having it brutally confirmed, happiness unavailable to him thrown in his face like Jude getting married meant nothing to him, was another. And it hurt more than his mother's absence, his father and sisters' indifference. More than his brother's betrayal, Balekin's punishments or his friends' affair.

"Sire?"

"I'm fine," he spitted. "Perfectly fine, Taryn. Now come on, wouldn't want to be late, would we?"

"We?"

"Yes!" The king seethed and stormed out of the throne room, not checking if the girl followed or not. And good thing he did, because if not, he would have been too late.

By the time the pair arrived, a blanket of stars littered the dark blue sky and a silver full moon glistered above the wedding venue. Taryn rushed to find her sister, but Cardan was stopped in place by what he saw. Rows of white chairs were aligned in front of a flower arch where a man dressed neatly in a midday summer sky blue laughed nervously with someone at his side. Waiting for Jude to show up on the path between the chairs.

Cardan took his time to analyze the man. He was his polar opposite. His hair freshly dyed in a sparkling color, his eyes warmer and softer. He was tall and muscular, wearing himself with dignity and not a single sign of self doubt or foggy mind. He seemed perfect, from the tidy outfit to the pleasant behavior. But the king didn't have time to mule over it. For Jude appeared at the end of the pathway. And his heart sunk in his chest deeper than normal, beating as if trying to escape its cage and run to where it belonged: Jude's arms.

The High King watched the white dress flowing around Jude's frame and for a painful, short moment, he dared imagining himself in front of her. Seeing her flustered cheeks like every time they kissed before, her blissful lips stretched in a rare smile and eyes watching him with love. sword and Cardan had no doubts that need be, the flowers in her hands would be as good as a sharp blade against enemies.

The High King watched the white dress flowing around Jude's frame and for a painful, short moment, he dared imagining himself in front of her. Seeing her flustered cheeks like everytime they kissed before, her blissful lips stretched in a rare smile and eyes watching him with love.

Cardan glared at the man's adoring face. It should have been him in his shoes. "You good?" A bemused voice beamed from behind.

"Vivienne?" Cardan questioned when he turned, taken aback by the golden cat eyes, pointy, furred ears and styled hair of Jude's older sister.

"It's Vivi, your highness," the title sounded like a joke when she said it. "Why are you here? Don't you have a kingdom to rule, more hearts to break or girls to exile?"

"I brought Taryn over. I though I should wait for her... for Locke's sake. Why aren't you there?" Cardan mimicked a bored demeanour when he pointed towards the venue. If the gleam that suddenly shone in Vivi's eyes was any hint, he failed.

"Why are you here?"

"You first."

The half fae frowned, but eventually, she answered honestly. "I don't agree with the wedding," Vivi shrugged. " I told Jude as much, but she's being stubborn."

"So she's just being herself." Cardan noted wistfully. "What's wrong with it?"

"She doesn't love him." The fae said as if she didn't just boosted endorphin in Cardan's patched up heart. Vivi noticed the wide eyed expression, the conflicted thoughts flying over his face as fast as they did in his mind. "What?"

"She doesn't? But... I thought... why then?"

"To forget."

Cardan's gaze moved from the wedding party to Vivi and back, mouth agap, head so full it felt empty. "Forget what? Who?"

"How much she misses Elfhame. How much she wants to kill someone she loves." Vivienne threw him a pointing look. "She's gonna regret it." The fae rose her brows towards Jude's figure, almost reaching the groom.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Jude accepted the hands reaching for her and offered her to be husband a tentative smile. The priest started talking, but she paid no mind. A loud throbbing thundered in her ear. Sweat pooled in her already slippery shoes. Droplets of rain started to rarely fall. She saw the audience shifting restlessly, the priest's speech quickening. The fine guy gripped her hands tighter and smiled at her.

"Maybe we'll have a kiss in the rain," he laughed adorningly.

"Mhm."

When the big question came, he said "I do" immediately. But Jude couldn't force her words out. She felt all eyes on her, as she struggled to speak. In the silence, only the rain falling faster sounded.

And then, words echoed loud and crystal clear in the opening. Except, it wasn't Jude's voice. And it wasn't "I do."

"Stop!" Cardan shouted. "Stop the wedding." The guests frowned and gasped, exchanging worried or confused looks.

Jude stared at the fae. His high cheekbones smudged with glitter, his thin pink lips that usually curled in a cruel smirk now wibbling and trembling as sharp breaths left and entered his body. Cardan looked at her through tufts of black hair, obsidian eyes wide with unspoken pleas.

"Stop it all," he said again, gaze locked with Jude's.

"What's going on here?" Asked the groom, stepping down towards Cardan. "Who are you?"

Before he could answer and worsen the situation, Jude spoke up. "Cardan, what are you doing here?" The mortal queen passed over her fiance and stood in front of the fae king.

"I- I'm not sure. All I know is that I can't lose you, Jude."

The girl shrieked out a laugh. "Lose me?" She hit him in the chest. "Lose me? You should have thought about it when you banished me!"

Cardan winced. "I had to, you know it." Jude rolled her eyes, but the boy was set to plead his case. "I gave you the means to come back, though. You never acted upon it. You never answered my letters, either."

"What are you talking about? What letters?"

"You're queen, Jude. Pardoned by the crown? You could've come back any time."

"And how was I supposed to know you were going to stand by it? By me? You haven't before."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, you would have known how much I wanted you back if you bothered to read my letters!"

Both of them were now highly yelling to each other, blinking through the cold spring rain that now soaked them. The wedding party left the venue in search of a fitting hiding spot.

"Jude, come on, babe. Let's go." But the bride fixed Cardan with her brown gaze, completely oblivious of the other man.

"I've got no letters! Why should I believe you?"

"Because I can't lie. Is that good enough of a reason for you?"

"No! No, it's not. We both know you can talk your way around it." Jude crossed her arms to restrain herself from physically hurting Cardan. She settled on glaring at him the best she could, giving him the look she gave Balekin when she pierced him dead.

Cardan opened his mouth to say something, but once again Jude beat him to it. "Leave. Leave and let me be happy for once!"

"I can't do that, Jude."

"Of course," she breathed. "Because then you'd lose the weak end of your cruel jokes, right? And we can't deprive the king of his fun."

"No," Cardan shook his head. "Because I love you!" Once the word left his mouth, his eyes widened. Jude's as well. But saying it was like making a dam disappear and letting all the water flow. The truth of it hit them both, and Cardan had to repeat it to make sure he said it out loud. "Because I love you, Jude. And I need you and I want you. Please."

What he was asking for, he didn't know. For her to love him back? For her to come home with him? For her to put an end to his misery and tell him off for good, cutting the thin strain of hope he still had?

"What?"

"I love you," he said slower, weaker. Cardan felt drained and the rain didn't help. It was too much like Elfhame since Jude left. "I wrote to you everyday, maybe I should have let you go. But I couldn't. I needed to see you. Speak to you. Even a fight or a death glare are better than your absence."

"Cardan..." Jude has been rendered speechless. She realized she loved him a while ago. But admitting it, accepting it, she didn't know if she could do. "You really thought I'd come back after what you did?" She didn't mean her words so sharp or angry, but she still heard the fae guards' laugh sometimes. Felt her heart breaking over and over again with the memory.

Cardan flinched and nodded. "I thought you'd be proud."

She barely made out what he said through the roar of the rain. But once Jude did, her heart broke once more. This time, for the truth behind his words. For the torture she put them both through by staying away. For the slight fear she sensed in his voice, though she couldn't understand what for.

"It was rather clever," she admitted. Cardan rose a pair of hopeful eyes at her – glassy, but focused – that clenched her heart. "Not as impressed as I was with the ring stunt," she added. "But it was a good riddle."

Cardan broke into a proud grin that only spreaded larger when he saw the ruby glowing on Jude's raised hand. "You kept it."

"Mhm. After you finally gave it back, I couldn't just throw it away." She took one step closer, almost slipping in her high heels Taryn insisted upon and catching her feet in wet mud. Cardan more or less flew over to grip her arm and steady her. Brown long hair fell from the side bun and got stuck on Jude's face. The High King's long, slim, fingers brushed it clear, gasping through rain drops dripping onto his mouth.

"Would you come back with me?"

Jude didn't answer. She was a woman of action, not words. So she did what she does best, acted. Full lips crushed against thin, royal ones. The queen tasted the sweet, cold rain on Cardan's mouth, feeling him frozen in surprise and smiling to herself. When she was about to pull back, Cardan came to his senses in fire. He brought her closer, biting her bottom lip gently as his tail wrapped itself around her leg to keep Jude in place.

When she parted her lips in surprise, he took the opportunity to explore her mouth. The queen and king engaged in a quite improper dance of tongues and swollen lips, both ignoring the burning pressure in their lungs for as much as they could.

"Does it mean you're coming home, my evil queen?"

"I love you." Was all Jude said. Because if she didn't then, then she wouldn't have. Ever.

Cardan froze again. She couldn't mean it, could she? His mind raced frenetically in search of an explanation, but a soothing grip found his palm and Jude's thumb draw circles on the back of his hand. "Ready?"

Cardan tighten his fingers around Jude's. This was real. She was coming back with him. To him. She didn't abandoned him and even if she eventually, most probably will, that time hasn't come yet and he'll have this moments to cherish.

"Ready."

[iovelore]

❝ MORTAL TALES ❞ ( O1 )

summary and word count: a certain fae can’t help but find amusement in the youngest elfhame’s prince‘s frustration. wc — 1493

pairings: the cruel prince!cardan greenbriar x fem!reader

contents and warnings: jealousy, hinting of threesome, mentions of knife (nothing extreme), suggestive content, mutual pining-ish, fluffy?

a/n: i used tcp cardan because i couldn’t see any context of y/n being used in a fic in the other books (i also need it for the next part </3). i tried my best to include the tail bit since it didn‘t come out right, ill add it in either part 2/3. cardan is a bit ooc (i made him a bit idk how to put it besides: sub?man whore. because i believe that’s what he is 😁). and y/n resembles jude just a little bit with the blade thing, but only a little because jude is neither very flirty or open up about her sexuality (more so in the first book) and that’s what i made y/n like.

also, since this was more in y/n’s perspective, next part will be more so cardans <3

Y/N's legs crossed as she leaned her head on locke's shoulder, while Poppy, a half-faerie: who Locke has shown great interest in— for all the wrong reasons — sat before them and told them of the mortal tales her father would recite to her every night or the ones she gathered on her own from her adventures back where the humans lived.

Y/N found them odd: how they all were almost nothing compared to the people here; they were fragile, but she found similar enjoyment in them all nonetheless — and perhaps she had the eldest duarte to blame for her obsession with all things mortal, and Poppy's tales weren't helping either — which has unfortunately gained her the harsh scowls from the youngest prince of Elfhame.

Though that was no surprise. The boy had never been kind enough for her to realise that his treatment towards her was almost cruel — not that it had mattered, because to Y/N it was a show; she knew where his feelings lay, and it was nothing but amusing. To everyone with eye sight as clear as day, he'd never liked her, but when in class, when he believes her to be ignorant of his stare or his wagging tail; she has a classmate whisper every move his body makes, and it fuelled her heart all too much.

"It's not quite normal there, unlike here, if anyone decided to walk around with it they'd get humiliated till they're six feet under," Poppy snorted, covering her mouth with the back of her palms.

Locke turned to stare behind him, catching sight of the prince and Nicasia — both pouting miserably (one much too obvious than the other), and at that, he smiled. "Oh you’re right, tails are quite odd aren’t they? More so on a prince,"

Y/N shrugged at that, "It's alright, I do think Cardan makes it quite, charming? He’s always wagging it around like some...was it a cat you called it?"

"Yes a cat," Poppy shook her head positively, "though don't say that out loud, I doubt he's as clueless on mortal knowledge as we think he is."

Locke hummed, a smirk growing on his lips as he kept his eyes trained on his friend, Y/N following suite of his gaze and sultry grinning at the boy from afar, ignoring Nicasia — causing his eyes to widen momentarily, before the scowl found home on his face once more.

"He's never quite liked you has he?" His words were soft against her ear, his lips landing gently beneath her ear-lobes, kissing it tenderly as he kept his eyes trained on his flaring friend — who if one squinted, could perhaps see smoke escape his ears, if they ignored the immense swinging of his tail.

Y/N smiled, a small amount of malice lacing her intentions, "hatred I'd say, though he doesn't think I'm that foolish does he?"

Poppy, who now stared at her feet, hands tugging the grass with a blush coating her tanned features, "he's looked like he wanted to murder Locke."

Y/N snickered, a sickeningly sweet one at that, as she lowly muttered, "it’s all working then, sweetness."

Later on, when Y/N was left with no one to keep her company — as Locke found himself adorning Poppy and Nicasia's presence, alone — she took notice of the emptiness of Locke's home. It was beautiful, nothing as extravagant as Hollow Hall, yet she found herself admiring the interior all the same.

And as her hands traced the designs etched on the walls, as if it were a reminiscence of her first time staring upon them, a deep, and rather annoyed cough fleed her from her thoughts.

she stayed in position, her back facing Cardan and only gripping the knife resting on her waist, "now what would the prince need at a time like this? Should he not be in his humble abode by now?"

"Should you not be with your lover boy? Or is it that you enjoy using people like he does?" His tone was hostile as he spat his words, however the light softness that rippled around it was evident and Y/N couldn't help her lips tugging upwards.

She turned around, staring at him — where he leaned cooly against one of the walls — with squinted eyes, faux contempt present in her stare, and he shifted in his spot at her gaze.

She swiftly walked, her steps careful as to not trip on her dress. And when she reached him, she, boldly, placed her hands on his chest, dragging it downwards firmly — and his thumping heart beneath his rib cage could be faintly heard from the short proximity between them.

Y/N titled her head when he clenched his fists, but found a smile etching on her lips when his eyes were lightly fluttering. "Do I really threaten you that much that your hatred towards me is the only thing that keeps you going? It's pathetic truly, especially for a prince."

Cardan gulped, mind hazy at the contact and his body was supported by his tail, that was wrapped roughly around one of his legs. He could not utter the next words without stroking her ego, and it was then he'd wished — though he'd never admit out loud — that he were mortal, because he needed to lie if not keep his mouth shut.

More so with her trapping him, her knees coming forward and slightly spreading his legs, so that the entirety of his body leaned upon the wall. And despite him towering over her due to one of her legs bending in-front of the other, he could not move, catching sight of the shiny blade securely placed on her hips and her rigid grasp on them.

She had been around a certain mortal for too long, he thought, and at that his sneer was present again.

Y/N gently bit her tongue to stifle the giggle from escaping her, "what, cat's got your tongue?"

His lips were tightly sealed, and though he already knew the effects she displayed were affecting him, greatly, he refused to acknowledge her — especially that any movement could cause his legs to move slightly forward and brush . . .

She shook her head with a light hearted laugh that had his heart beating just a little bit faster, just a little bit. Her hands releasing the grip she had on her blade, before placing it on his cheek and patting him smoothly.

"You're quite humorous you know, would be a shame if you wasted all that energy on 'hating' me when it could be used for something else, you decide, my prince." she said, her tone sensual and low, before gradually stepping away allowing room (only a small amount at that) for the boy before her to breathe, she let one of her fingers crawl delicately on his hollow cheek bones, that though looked sharp, were as soft as anything could be.

Cardan's eyes widened ever so slightly, now registering her words, "are you flirting with me?" He asked. The space between them now slightly obvious, and he hated it — almost as much as he pretends to loathe her.

Y/N raised her brows, crossing her arms in an unlikely childish manner before nodding, "you're quite oblivious you know? Yes."

"Well," the confirmation enabled a smirk to appear on his face, only to be dismissed by her voice, again.

"Well? Is that all? Because I have things to do, and if my offer does not interest you then I'll gladly leave and find another willing volunteer," she purred, ignoring the way his brows harshly and quickly furrowed, creating a crease, "how about Locke? We are reasonably close, and he does not have a tail — which looks a bit foolish, don't you think?"

He was blushing crimson now, red sparklings littering his pale cheeks, but then his lips curled up — however, he does not look as frighting as he's expecting to be, he knew that, especially with her knees still resting between his thighs (which is all he's trying to drift his mind from at the moment).

"I don't see anything off with it, I've been told it makes one interesting. You've spent too much time with mortals and those alike." Cardan's jaw clenched and his chest was rising a lot more than it was a few minutes before.

Y/N pursed her lips, "Well then, show me how interesting one can get." She leaned forward, her breath fanning atop his lips and he found his own hitching.

His eyes were wandering from her eyes, which he secretly adored, to her lips, and he subconsciously nodded, leaning forward.

Only then, her hands rested on his chest, pushing him away slightly and his head came in contact with the wall yet again, and he had to bite his bottom lips in hopes that she had no idea how much he’d needed her, all of her.

Y/N stepped backwards, finally standing straight. Her hands on her side once more and she gave the prince an alluring smile, "I'll see you later, cardan."

He glared at the spot she had been standing in once she’d left, and he knew that it was a silly game she’s playing.

And what is a game if it involves one player?

[scarletaire]

i loved glitterlight!!! my headcanon is that jude and cardan have a babygirl and later when she's old enough they take her to the christmas village again and sammy is there and they meet and become buddies <3

This headcanon warmed my cold, dead heart, Anon. Please take this flufftastic ficlet as a thank you ❤️✨

_______

afterlight

700 words, short continuation of glitterlight

There is no putting it off any longer.

It’s been five years since they started coming to the Christmas Village after Jude gave birth, and every year has been inching closer and closer to this inevitable outcome.

In Cardan’s arms, their daughter perks up. It’s the exact same thing she’d done last year, and they’d had to spend the whole day distracting her with toys and sweets because she was still too young. The upturned little nose is all Jude, but the way she wrinkles it and looks down at her father is imperiously Greenbriar. “I want to go there.”

Cardan casts a wary glance at the ice skating rink that has just come into view. “Surely you would rather visit with the large red man again, instead?”

She shakes her head, long black ringlets bouncing at her back with her fervor. Jude had thought to cut her hair soon, but right now it’s long enough to hide the delicate points of her ears without glamour, and so she had left it alone for now. “Go,” she orders, pointing. “There.”

Cardan frowns. Father and daughter engage in a silent battle of wills. Jude watches from the side, hiding her amusement behind a cup of steaming hot chocolate. It’s a satisfying kind of comeuppance: Cardan, so used to getting his way, facing off against his equally worthy opponent. One spoiled Fae royal to another.

But her daughter is a master of her weapons just as Jude is. She blinks those big, brown eyes at Cardan and gives one tactical tremble of her lower lip.

They’re standing at the barrier with fully laced skates. Cardan’s shoulders droop in defeat even as he holds tight to his daughter’s hand. Jude holds on to her other hand, and this time she can’t stifle her snickering.

“Woe, the great King of Elfhame. Felled by the mighty and fearsome puppy-dog pout.”

“Between the two of you, my flank is treacherously exposed.”

But he gently urges their daughter forward onto the ice, much more steady on his feet than the first time he’d done this. She goes, slowly and precariously on her tiny little skates, sliding one moment and stomping her feet the next. All the while, her parents hold her strong and secure at her sides.

A flash of red streaks past them, accompanied by a rather beaten up, but still noble-looking polar bear skating aid. Their daughter stares at it, mouth open in childlike awe. And, because she’s a princess of Faerie, there’s naturally a healthy amount of greed, as well.

The boy pushing the polar bear around notices them and stops. He’s got straight, sandy hair and a familiar red scarf.

Cardan raises an eyebrow at Jude.

The boy blinks at the two of them, a strange expression crossing his face. Then he leans down to address the little girl staring up at him with wide, wide eyes. “Hi, there,” he says warmly. “What’s your name?”

Sam’s gotten older, but he still hasn’t lost his little boy grin.

Their daughter tilts her head to the side, her round cheek meeting the curve of her shoulder. “Alice,” she says. Softly, so that you have to lean in closer and give her every last drop of attention. But not shyly; no, shy is the last thing she will ever be. And then, because she has him right where she wants him, she gives him an equally dazzling smile.

Alice, of course, is not her true name. That they well guard away from the scheming, calculating ears of Elfhame. But this name fits her perhaps a little too well, their storybook girl of two worlds.

One glance at Sam’s slightly dazed face and it’s immediately clear that Alice has done the one thing she has been wickedly good at all her short life: enchant him.

Jude knows the feeling. She’s been enchanted by her daughter ever since she first held her in her arms. If Cardan’s knowing expression is anything to go by, he feels exactly the same.

“Alice,” she hears Sam say. “Would you like to meet my friend, Sir Hugs-A-Lot?”

Jude meets Cardan’s eye.

They share a secret, shimmering smile.

[thewickedkings]

Between the Two of Us ~ Chapter 8

Masterlist || AO3 ||  Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Summary: Jurdan High school AU. Rivals Jude and Cardan are forced to partner up for a history project, and drama ensues. Filled with banter, pranks,  an  unhealthy amount of pining, and Jude being clueless as usual.

Trigger Warnings: I don’t think there’s anything so far, but please let me know if there’s anything I missed!

~~~

A/N: This has minor spoilers for Knives Out, just FYI.

Jude’s plan to avoid Taryn for the rest of her existence was foiled the next day at lunch. Oriana had tried a new pasta recipe, and Madoc had made sure Jude and Taryn were downstairs for lunch. When Jude had first moved in with Madoc, days after her parent’s accident, Madoc and Oriana’s relationship had been an enigma to her. But as Madoc scooped extra pasta in his plate and Oriana smiled down at her food, Jude knew they cared about each other more than she knew.

Taryn shifted on the seat next to her, and Jude studiously focused on twisting her noodles around her fork, choosing to ignore Taryn. She wasn’t going to be petty about it.

When Taryn reached for the last garlic bread, Jude deftly picked it up, biting into its delicious warmth and ignoring Taryn’s irritated glance. Not petty at all.

“Girls, how was your party last night?” Oriana asked.

“It was okay, but Taryn really enjoyed it,” Jude responded casually, eyes not leaving her plate.

“I mean, Jude wouldn’t know, she left halfway through.”

Oriana’s watchful gaze jumped between them, and she asked, “Oh? Who did you get a ride home with?”

“Just a friend.”

Jude felt Madoc’s gaze on her, and she sank into her seat, knowing what was about to come. “Was it a boy? Who? Do I know him?”

“You met him the other day. Cardan Greenbriar.”

Oak piped in. “The boy from the soccer game. Vivi said you two pretend to hate each other, but you actually-”

“Anyways,” Jude quickly interrupted. “He just gave me a ride home because I didn’t feel like staying.” She wished Vivi were here so she could punch her.

“You seem to be spending a lot of time with Cardan, Jude,” Taryn said slowly.

“Well, Locke wasn’t around and I couldn’t find you either, so I had to get a ride with Cardan.”

“Who’s Locke?” That came from Madoc, who was suddenly very interested in the conversation.

“Jude’s boyfriend.”

Oak frowned into his glass.

“He’s not my-”

“But you like him, right?” Taryn needled.

What the hell? What was she playing at? Suddenly Jude was glad she hadn’t confronted Locke and Taryn yesterday, if only to be able to watch Taryn’s deceit and try to decipher it.

“We’ve only been on one date, okay?”

“So you’re leading him on?”

“Can you not?” Jude snapped.

The room went silent, and Oak stared at Jude with wide eyes over the rim of his orange juice. If she wasn’t so mad, she might have laughed at the ridiculousness of situation.

It wasn’t like this was the first time her and Taryn had fought. They were siblings after all. But it seemed everyone could sense the pure venom between them.

Madoc cleared his throat, clearly at loss for words. “Girls, I think…”

Taryn pushed her seat back, interrupting him. “I’m full.”

“Same here,” Jude said, and they both marched away in opposite directions.

 ~~~

Work the next morning was a welcoming distraction from her tumultuous thoughts. The morning drifted by as Jude took the occasional order and chatted with the Bomb. Sunday mornings were usually the slowest, and Jude loved the steady thrum of the café as the sun rose higher in the sky.

After her lunch break, the Bomb handed her a pink drink, gesturing for her to take it to the table in the back corner of the cafe. Jude scrunched her face at the sugary atrocity and the Bomb laughed. “Not everyone drinks straight up black coffee like you do.”

Jude’s reply was forgotten as she caught sight of the recipient of said atrocity.

Cardan sat hunched in the corner, a navy beanie slung atop his head and airpods in his ears. Jude’s brain went into overdrive, wondering how she was supposed to act around him. Friday night felt almost like an alternate reality, one where her and Cardan actually got along. And she didn’t know if they could exist like that now.

As Jude approached his table, she hesitated, taking in his appearance. His shirt collar was rumpled, as if he had thrown it on without a second glance, and his eyes were shadowed. His hands fidgeted with a pencil, charcoal smudging his fingers.

“Um, hey, here’s your pink drink.”

Cardan looked up from his laptop, startled, and one of his arms quickly moved to block his notebook from her sight. “I thought you didn’t work on Sundays,” he blurted, pulling out his airpods.

“Oh yeah, my schedule changed,” she replied, playing off the insecurity that statement wrought. He didn’t have to be so obvious that he didn’t want to see her.

“Right.”

His eyes flickered away from hers, and Jude cleared her throat. “Right. Um- Let me know if you need anything.” She quickly turned around, mortification burning through her. She’d thought that Friday night had changed things between them, but she was foolish for thinking so.

“Jude, wait.”

She turned slightly, waiting. His jaw worked before he finally said, “Thanks. For the drink.”

She nodded curtly, not trusting herself to speak, before going back to the counter. When the Bomb saw her expression, she asked, “What happened?”

Jude sighed. “I don’t even know where to start.”

 ~~~

After Jude had recounted all the events since Friday, the Bomb glared at her. “You let me ramble about my crappy professor and my crush on Garett all morning while you were sitting on all this?”

“I didn’t know how to bring it up…?”

The Bomb sighed. “I do not miss high school.”

“Just… help me.”

“Okay, first of all, Locke is a douchebag. Second of all, Taryn is also a jerk, no offense. And third of all, why did you go out with Locke instead of him?” The Bomb’s eyes glanced towards Cardan meaningfully.

“It’s not like that. We haven’t even been civil to each other until Friday. It’s… complicated.”

“Sounds like a whole lot of excuses to me.”

“You’re one to talk.”

The Bomb ignored the jab. “Me, Van, and the Ghost are going to the movies after this. Come with us and invite him.”

“Wait, what? How’s that going to help anything?”

“Come on Jude. It’ll be fun. I want to meet him and see what his deal is. Plus, he looks like he needs some cheering up.”

Jude watched as he rubbed a hand against the tension in his jaw, and something inside her gave. He had cheered her up on Friday, so she would only be returning the favor.

“Okay, fine.”

 The Bomb rolled her eyes. “You’ll thank me later.”

~~~

Two hours later, after her and the Bomb closed the coffee shop for the evening, Jude found in the food court at the mall with three of her coworkers that might be becoming her friends and a guy who had, until a week ago, been her nemesis.

Despite Cardan’s initial hesitation at her invite, he accepted after confirming she wasn’t just trying to prank him.

Jude had spent enough shifts with them to be comfortable with them, and she watched warily as the Bomb introduced them to Cardan.

“This is Cardan, Jude’s… friend,” she settled on. Cardan’s fingers fidgeted with a loose thread on his hoodie as he gave an awkward wave. “And this is the the Roach, aka Van, and the Ghost.”

At Cardan’s confused expression, Van and the Ghost began to explain the backstory, sentences overlapping as they cut each other off in their efforts to explain each nickname.

The three of them began to walk ahead of Jude and the Bomb, and Cardan shot a wide eyed look behind him at Jude. She grinned. Even she couldn’t keep up with the Ghost and Garett’s endless bickering. If it weren’t for the sharp contrast in their features, she would’ve thought they were siblings.

The Bomb hooked her arm through Jude’s as they lined up for the pretzel cart while the three boys wandered off to browse the movies.  “I told you it’d be fine.”

Jude rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

After they secured their snacks, they joined the boys in line for tickets.

“You might want to hide that. They don’t let you take in any outside snacks.” Garett gestured to the pretzel.

“Crap, okay.” When she realized she didn’t have any bag or clothing bulky enough to hide her pretzel, she shoved the pretzel at Cardan, who was wearing a black jacket. “Hide this in your jacket.”

Cardan raised a brow. “Only if you share.”

“I asked you if you wanted one!”

He shrugged, stepping back. “Fine, then. You can smuggle that in yourself.”

Jude grabbed his jacket and shoved the pretzel inside, mumbling, “I hate you so much.”

“So you keep telling me.” His hands were warm as they closed over hers, gently grasping the pretzel out of her grip.

When she pulled back, the Bomb, the Ghost, and Garett all looked at them with varying expressions. The Bomb looked much too smug, Van confused, and the Ghost thoroughly entertained.

“So you two are… friends?” That came from the Ghost.

Jude felt a flush warming up her neck, forgetting that they had an audience and just now realizing how flirtatious their interaction would seem to someone who didn’t know them.

Cardan’s eyes glinted humorously. “It depends on her mood.”

The Bomb snorted and nudged Jude. “I like him.” Van’s expression tightened for a fraction of a second before clearing. Jude filed that information to think about later before making her way to the ticket counter.

“Let’s go watch this movie, losers.”

 ~~~

“I aspire to achieve her level of pettiness,” Cardan whispered into her ear as the credits to Knives Out rolled in. Because of course he would be a movie talker, whispering his opinion every five seconds.

“I think I like evil Captain America.”

“The blood on her shoe!”

“Is it just me, or is this dude’s accent getting really annoying?”

His warm breath against her ear left her feeling restless and jittery the entire movie.

They got up as the faint lights illuminated the room, making their way to the exit.

Van was giving the Bomb a full analysis of the subtext of the movie, and the Ghost rolled his eyes at Jude from behind him. “Such a nerd,” he mouthed and she snorted.

“So, out of ten, what did you think?” asked Cardan.

“A solid eight.”

“You’re just mad you didn’t solve it until the end.”

“I would have if you didn’t keep interrupting my concentration every five seconds.”

The Ghost laughed. “I’d dock a whole star because that dude’s Southern accent was terrible.”

“A donut hole in a donut hole,” Cardan said, mimicking a line from the movie in his own attempt at the accent. She snorted a laugh, and Cardan’s eyes brightened.

The group of them made their way to their cars, their voices loud and bright against the chill of the night. Garett had his arms around the Bomb’s shoulders in front of them, and Cardan and the Ghost joked from either side of her. A happiness flowed through her veins that could only be found after leaving a movie theatre, a sense of dreamy optimism and possibility.

Before she knew it, the Bomb and the Ghost were making plans for the next week. Cardan shot a hesitant glance towards her, his hands burrowing into his pockets, and Jude returned it with a shrug and a grin. And so Cardan agreed, and then so did she.

After the Bomb dropped them both off at the café so they could get their cars, he walked her to her car. He leaned back against her car, hands in his pockets. “So… those are your friends.”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t expect you to be friends with a bunch of college kids.”

Jude scowled. “Why? I’m cool enough.”

“I never said you weren’t,” he replied, lips curving up in a smile, but then his expression sobered, eyes flickering to the pavement below. “Thanks… for inviting me out with your friends. You didn’t have to.”

“I know. But I wanted to,” she let herself admit, because something about Cardan in that moment was oddly vulnerable.

His hand reached foreword and tucked a strand of hair that the wind had pried loose behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “Jude, I…”

The shrill tone of her phone interrupted him, and he withdrew instantly before gesturing towards her bag. “You should get that.”

“Yeah, okay.” Except now she really wanted to know what he had been about to say.

He watched as she got in her car and shut the door behind her. She mouthed bye before picking up the phone. The streetlight casted shadows over his figure, and then he disappeared into his car. Once he was out of sight, she raised her palm to her cheek, still warm from the memory of his touch.

~~~

A/N: I didn’t really edit this as much as I usually do and just went with my first draft of this chapter because I haven’t updated in so long, so sorry if it’s kind of bad lol. I started overthinking the whole fic and feeling like I should be planning a lot more than I do, but I realized that this fic was more for fun so I’m kind of just going to go with it and hope you guys like it. Anywayssss, I plan to update a lot once my semester finishes in two weeks, so look out for that!

Thank you so much for reading <3 I’m still amazed that people actually enjoy this so yeah :) Let me know what you thought in the comments! I LOVE it when you guys comment!

Tagging: (Bolded tags don’t work)

@goddess-of-writing @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @amoosewithflannelforfur @aneurwin @mercrutiodidntdieforthis @hizqueen4life @mi-mavencalories @simonelovesff @b00kworm @nope-has-lied @andromeddea @aesthetics-11 @queen-of-glass @runnybabbit9  @afexiss @the-keen-queen @yesimtheslytherinwitch @fizziefaerie @abigneignenn @storiesandschemes @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @words-of-the-wise @thedazzlingheights @magicalbookwyvern @kittkatandbooboo @queen-of-no1 @iminsanenotobsessed @dorkzrul @snusbandxknifewife  @aknymph @clouds-and-peonies @thefolkofthefic @snorting-up-pizza @fandomfanatic987 @fandom-will-be-the-death-of-me @cardanslittletail @curlyredqueen06 @losssssstttttt  @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @omfglucayababies @judiecardan @woodsbeyond1 @yourroyalbooknerd  @ireallyshouldsleeprn @st00pid231 @alittledribbledrabble @nomotivation-lads @herladyshipxx @emmabookworm08 @ducksmurf135 @jurdanhell @booksandothersecrets @fangirlprincess09  @ysitsohardtofindaname @dressedindustandshadows @mickeymouse-house @clockworkgraystairs  @thesirenwashere @courtofjurdan @blackjacks-donuts @pig-on-acid  @krispytalerebel @misskillerdarkness @sanctalina @dirigibledinosaur

[wanderingpages]

All Human, Rockstar AU (Part 7). Cardan is in a band on the cusp of fame, and Jude has been there from the start. They fall fast and hard, but sometimes love just isn’t enough.

Trigger Warnings: Language, Sex, Drugs, Death (and the word ‘cunt’ sometimes I guess.)

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 ∞ Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13

∞

Jude’s POV

Help I’m Alive - Metric

I’m zoned out through school. That article is stuck on my mind. Not the contents of it, necessarily, but the photo they used. It’s stupid because I know Cardan isn’t like that, but it’s something Caelia had told me when we went to see them, and later after hearing their song on the radio for the first time, when Heather said what she did… and his hands on her hips – maybe it means nothing, but to imagine it is one thing, to see it in a photo, on a night he’s celebrating something big without me, is a whole other ballgame. Do I even deserve to feel so hurt? That article just seems too soon, and my heart feels like it has been punt kicked. Repeatedly.

I promise myself I’d return his calls after class, but part of me wonders if he’d even answer. Maybe he’d given up on us already. Maybe this was a bad idea, trying to be together. But no – this is the same boy who’d spent months looking for me after an off-chance meeting at a lake house, a boy who manages to text or call me every single day without fail. So, he’s more of a rockstar than he was a week ago, I shouldn’t give up on him because of that, right? This is minuscule, in retrospect, to countless other things that could have been posted.

“Jude,” My sister says in astonishment as we exit the school building. Her voice is so awed that I have to glance at her, just in time to catch the widening of her eyes. I swing my head to Heather, on the other side of me, who’s looking in the same direction, mouth slack. Slowly, I check the person standing still next to her, then the other. The few people exiting the building with us have mostly stopped in their tracks, idling as a low murmur goes through them. My heart is absolutely in my throat when I brave it and follow their gaze.

“Oh my god,” I murmur. I clutch at my chest like it’ll stop the pounding from breaking through my skin. He’s leaned against the car just at the curbside. He’s got sunshades on but somehow, I can tell his eyes are on me.

“Jude,” Taryn nudges me forward. “Go,” she says frantically.

I feel the morbidly curious gazes watching me walk down the cleared path to him. Maybe he’s not as recognizable yet, but he’s stood there looking like he’s stepped out off pages of Blusher Magazine, leaned against a car only the drug dealers in this town can afford. My cheeks are flushed and I'm too mortified to be angry. My heart is pounding in my ears and though most every eye seems to be on us – or rather me walking towards him, I’ve got tunnel vision focused on Cardan Greenbriar. I stop in front of him and he pushes off the car, meeting me toe for toe. I look up at him, eyes blurring against my will.

“This is Caelia’s car,” I tell him, stunned at the wavering in my own voice.

His lips tilt down, “Jude,” he says, hands coming to my shoulders.

“Cardan,” I whisper as his hands glide up to my cheeks, spanning along to my neck.

“Jude,” he says again, this time pleading. I know what he wants but there’s something thick in my throat, stopping me from saying it. “Jude,” he says again. I reach up and take his glasses off, pushing them above his head. His eyes are rimmed red and sort of puffy. I wonder if he’s still hung over from yesterday’s big bash. “Say it,” he whispers, he begs, eyes searching mine.

“Rockstar,” I say thickly. He looks relieved, pulling me by my face to crash his lips into mine. My heart races, and it hurts to breathe too deeply. His hands tug me impossibly closer and I’m tasting salt on our lips. He pulls away, a peck to my top lip then to my bottom. His thumb swipes under my eyes, catching the tears as they fall.

“Don’t cry,” he whispers

“How are you here?” I pull back and wipe at my face with the back of my hand, mascara marking my skin. I’m embarrassed and confused and… fucking glad as hell that he’s here. I peek at our surroundings, all to aware that we’re a spectacle and I nervously twist at a ring on my finger. Cardan glances around now too, face grim as he takes in my peers.

“Come on,” he takes my bag from my shoulder and tosses it in the back seat before walking me to the passenger side, and holding the door open for me. He rummages around then hands me an unopened bottle of water when he’s back in the driver’s side and I take it gratefully suddenly hyperaware of how dry my throat is. “You have to know I wouldn’t do that, don’t you?” I could laugh at his lack of preamble.

“Hi Jude, I missed you too, thanks for not causing a bigger scene out there and kicking my balls in, that would fare bad for the inevitable babies I want to put in you.” I let out a huff, and he coughs to mask his sudden outburst of laughter. I want to laugh to but I settle for clearing my throat. “It just hurt. I needed time, I guess, to get out of my own head. You said…I thought…” I take another sip of water and tug the seat belt on. I’m paying way too close to the detail of the bottle in my hands. Since when was spring water not good enough – what the hell is this fancy mineral water from volcanoes and why does it taste like dirt? “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, peeling out of the spot. We take a few turns until we’re somewhere driving on clear roads. There’s a real quiet tapping I belatedly realize is the metal in his mouth hitting the enamel of his teeth. “I just wanted to be with you. I had to explain. Hell, Jude, I don’t even remember much of last night – and that’s probably not helping my case, but I swear I would never do what you’re thinking.” He glances at me every so often and I peel at the plastic wrap around the bottle before grumbling and tossing it on the floor.

It’s silent and I twist my fingers together playing with the set of thin rings I have on, trying to make sense of him being here, right next to me, trying to gather my thoughts. “You said, you didn’t want to share me with anybody,” I finally start off. “But I realized how unfair that is because,” I swallow, pressing a hand to my stomach as if the nerves would clear from that. “Cardan, I have to share you with the world.”

“No,”

“No?” My eyebrows raise to my hairline.

“Whatever is on stage or in the music, sure that’ll be for the fans – but me? I’m yours, Jude.” His words, stop my pulse all together. I hear them but, we’re only seventeen, what the hell do we know? Serpent Gold is on the cusp of fame. Maybe what we have isn’t enough.

“It’ll happen sooner or later,” I mumble, gazing past him and out his side’s window. He turns to me and I scowl at him, “Please, pay attention to the road, Cardan.”

He rolls his eyes but still turns to face forward. “Have you been talking to my sister?”

“Caelia? Yeah, I guess. She babysits Oak sometimes.” I shrug, wondering if I should let the change of subject slide or not. But it’s not a change of subject I realize, when he explains the gist of her sort of ultimatum with Larkin. I frown, “Cardan, I think anyone who dates a celebrity either at their peak or their up-in-comings would feel like this. I don’t agree with Caelia, there should be trust here – but I understand her.” I sigh. “Hell, it’s how I feel, but hearing it out loud like that makes me… I don’t know. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, and part of me knew that hadn’t happened like it seemed, but I was so ready to break my own heart. You’re too good to be true sometimes, you know? Part of me really thinks this won’t last and maybe I should run with it as far as I can, but part of me really wants this to last and I’ll be fucking devastated, Cardan, if you break my heart.”

He reaches over and grabs my hand. “I could say the same about you. I’m new to this, Jude. New to the fame, yes, but new to you, too. I’ll be more aware of myself,” he compromises, “in public situations and the likes. Will you trust me, next time? Will you hear me out? Call me anytime for anything. I don’t care if I’m in the middle of a show or meeting or having lunch with Grandma Mab, I’ll answer you and we’ll sort whatever out. I’d drop everything if it made you happy, Jude.” he squeezes my fingers, his words so intense, I feel this severe ache in my soul. Does he know what he’s insinuating? Do I? “The thought of losing you did something really fucked up to me today. I’m not letting you go. Okay?”

I pull his hand to my lips and give him a kiss on his knuckles. “Okay.” It’s as resolved as we can get without me being possessive and him being jaded, but nonetheless, I feel less heavy.

“Good,” he sighs out, catching my eyes again. He takes in my apparel and a slow, shy, kind of grin forms. “I like your dress. I think I like those lacy things on your legs more.”

I blink down to my thighs, the hem of my dress meeting with the end of the lace on the thigh high stockings I wore today. I blush but roll my eyes, pulling my dress down modestly. He chuckles more relieved than at my antics, and I remind him to keep his eyes on the road; it’s near deserted but his gaze always flushes my skin. I’m scared of dying, sure, but I’m more scared of how vulnerable he makes me feel. “How’d you find me anyways?”

“Spoke to Val who gave me the address to Rhyia’s who all but throttled me. She gave me Vivienne’s workplace who then gave me two schools I could pick from. I tossed a coin and prayed it landed on the right one.”

I laugh and raise an eyebrow, “What if you chose the wrong school?”

“I’d find you eventually,” he shrugs. ‘I’d like to think that I’d always make my way back to you, somehow, whichever way you’d let me in.”

I rest a palm on my cheek while I squeeze his fingers with my other hand. “You’re something else,” I say quietly. “Where are we going anyway? Were we just going to drive around until I agreed to hear you out?”

He smiles all bashful and shrugs, “Maybe. At first, yeah, but now, we’re going here.” He juts his chin towards the sign at the main entrance to some sort of farm.

Confusion washes over me, ��A pumpkin patch?” My eyes go wide and I clutch my hands – and the one of his that I’m still holding – to my chest. “A pumpkin patch!”

“October’s in a week,” he shrugs. “Let’s go find a pumpkin.”

He finds a parking spot and as soon as he’s settled, I take my seat belt off and clamber towards the back, one knee on the console, the other on the passenger seat. I bend over to reach my bag, rummaging through to find my camera. “Jesus,” Cardan curses.

“What,” I say startled.

“Just glad I have tinted windows,” he mumbles. I turn to face him, his eyes quickly moving from my ass to my face, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel. I blush and tug my dress down further. He lets a slow smile grace his pretty face. “Come on,” He gets out first then tugs me out through the driver’s side. He places a kiss on the side of my head, looking as relieved as I feel. Part of me wonders though, if I’m holding him back – if he’d have to check himself at every event, making sure he’s not touching someone with a possibility of it looking wrong to me. He pulls me by my chin, and I find I have to stand on my tip toes and he still has to bend down and kiss me. Has he grown more since we last saw each other? “What’s wrong?” he asks, nose scrunching.

“You’re tall.” It sounds like I’m accusing him. He blinks, unable to hold back the snort.

His hand intertwines in mine as he buys the tickets. He keeps me in front of him and wraps his arms around my mid section, chin resting on my shoulder, nose caressing the fine hair on my neck. Maybe we’re naïve in this moment, but I settle deeper against him, letting myself be comforted by his presence. “Who was she, anyway? The lady you were talking with?”

“I…I have no clue. The whole night was just Randalin throwing people at us, trying to build a network. She could have been anyone, really. Or no one, I guess.” I nod, forcing myself to accept this. After getting our tickets, we’re handed a map that Cardan unfolds as I take in the scenery.  My hand grips his tighter when I see the feeding pen and I drag him towards that, first.

“Okay, best apology ever,” I say in awe, holding my hand out for the farmer to drop pellets into. “Cardan,” I whisper, “It’s a baby goat.” He watches in amusement as I approach the pen and kneel down to feed him. “Cardan,” I cry out when the little guy licks at my fingers, poking his head through the fence. I rub behind his ears, “I’m sorry, I’m all out of food. But I love you so much, I promise I’ll return to feed you before we leave.” I reach out and peck his nose. He bleats in response. When I turn to Cardan, I see he’s got his phone pointed at me.

His brows furrow, “Baby, you’re crying again?” his voice is soft as he approaches me.

“I’m just so happy, Cardan. This morning was hell, and then you came and – baby goats!”

“I think they’re called kids,” he supplies, tugging me up and into his arms and give me a warm smile. I reach up and kiss him chastely, because I want to and I realize that I can. “There are children around,” he murmurs when he pulls away after my tongue has traced the seam of his lips. I grin and give him another quick peck.

The sun is setting by the time we’ve made it through every attraction, every display, every ride. We’ve gotten 3 medium sized pumpkins and a couple of baby ones for Oak. Cardan holds the bigger pumpkins and I tuck the two small ones in the corner of my arms. I buy us a cup of hot apple cider and a caramel apple I feed to him periodically. I try not to notice the way his tongue darts out to lick at the caramel by the corner of his lips, or the shiny metal barbell at the center of his tongue. I shiver, he notices. “Cold?”

I shake my head and blush, making my way back to the feeding pen. We finish off the apple and Cardan sets the pumpkins on the ground next to us before taking the cup from me as well as the small pumpkins. I hold out my hand for the food and the farmer smiles, remembering me from earlier. “You’re the one spoiling Beelzebub, huh?”

“Beelzebub?”

He grins, “I thought it was funny, seeing usually the goats are being sacrificed to him and all. My wife calls him Gunther.” He rolls his eyes and I let out a laugh I couldn’t help.

“No, I’m not spoiling this precious angel,” I lie with a bright smile and maybe he gives me a little extra food. I kneel down and Beelzebub/Gunther gallops towards me. I swear he’s smiling. “Hi baby!” I hold my hand out and laugh as he gobbles the pellets. “Told you I’d be back.” I lean close to give him another peck on his nose, but he licks my face instead. I laugh and rub under his neck. “We gotta go now, Gunther. I’m gonna miss you.” I wipe at my face as I get up. Cardan’s already beside me, offering the last of the apple cider.

“Just one more thing,” he promises, leading me to the car where we stash our pumpkins and my camera. He yanks out a jacket he had in the back, holding it out for me, and as I push my arms through, it’s clear how much it completely engulfs me, dropping just an inch past the dress I’m wearing.

“Where are we going now?” He leads me to the other side of the road, opposite of where all the main attractions had been. “Corn maze?”

He nods, “I always wanted to try it.” He shrugs, pulling the tip of the barbell between his teeth and I have to blink to focus on what he’s said. I realize he’s being shy and it’s the most endearing thing. It reminds me of that first night we met, him in the shadows, nervous before the performance.

I pull his hand, dragging him to the entrance. “You can’t scare me, though. You have to promise.”

“You’re no fun.”

I scoff at him, leading him down a trail, making quite a few wrong turns until I turn to him minutes later or maybe hours later and say, “I’m lost.”

There’s humor in his voice. “I figured when we walked past that scarecrow for the third time.”

I narrow my eyes at him, “You knew?”

“I thought you were doing it on purpose,” he lies. He glances up at the sun near setting, then lets out a sigh. He pulls out his phone and checks his GPS in satellite mode.

“That’s…really smart. But also cheating.” I peer over to see that we are literally at the far end of the maze, nowhere near the exit. He grins, bending down to kiss my forehead. I snuggle in closer to him, his hands wrapping around my shoulders. “You feel so warm,” I tell him. “Can we rest just a little? I feel like we’ve been walking for hours.”

“It’s only been thirty minutes.” He pulls off the jacket he’d given me and lays it on the ground. He takes a seat then guides me onto his lap. “How are you feeling?”

“Really happy, Rockstar. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I can’t believe this is our first date.” I take his shades from his head and place them somewhere on the ground before I circle a lock of his hair between my fingers, “And I’m really sorry. About overreacting, I guess. I would have called you back, you know.”

His smile is somber, hands at the small of my back, and despite the chill in the air, I feel the heat of his palm through the material of my clothes. “If it were reversed, our roles, I’d have reacted mostly the same, I think. This morning…thinking about loosing you really ripped a hole in my heart. Then I thought, if I explained and you still didn’t want me, I’d let you go. Except I started thinking about you moving on and finding someone else,” he trails off, looking a cross between angry and embarrassed. “It gutted me, Jude. Felt like acid in my stomach.” His head turns, lips catching the inside of my wrist on the hand still twisting at his hair. I never realized how sensitive that area was until I felt the kiss flutter something hard in my chest.

Not knowing what to say, I crane my head to look up at the sky and I nervously muse, “So…Mercury is in retrograde.”

A smirk breaks out on his face. “Dork,” he says. “And it’s not our first date,” I look at him with brows raised and he looks genuinely confused as he thinks it over. “This is our… doesn’t the concert count?”

“You, taking me to your job, with your sister, is a date?” I wiggle my brows, “Then dry humping me and napping?”

His cheeks redden visibly even in the lack of daylight. I pull him in for a hug, squeezing him close to me, laughing. “Well shit, this is our first date,” he mutters.

“The best first date ever,” I press my lips to his neck and breathe him in. He pinches at my chin and guides me to his lips. Soft at first, and he tastes like apples and caramel, then my mouth parts for him and he slides his warm tongue against mine, the shock of the metal ball stroking down the middle emits a gasp from me. Hesitantly, I tease my tongue over it and he lets out a low moan that sends shivers raking down my body. One hand slides down to my hip, the other is rubbing over the lace of the stockings, slowly moving under my dress. I run my hands up his shoulders and into his hair, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Does it hurt?” I ask, voice rough as we pull apart. “Your piercing,” I clarify.

“No,” he says. “Not anymore.” His eyes are down cast. “Not at all. It’s all healed. Let me show you?”

I bite at my lip and nod. I let out a short squeal when he grabs my hips and lays me on the ground. My eyes widen, “Here?” I whisper, glancing around at the darkening area.

He nods, hiking the skirt of my dress up, parting my knees and slotting right between them. “Do you trust me?” I nod, not even giving myself a chance to think about it. He spreads my legs wider, one hand hooking under my thigh, the other, palming from my bellybutton down. I let out a breath, eyes focused on the night sky. The stars are extremely noticeable away from the city and it’s sort of unbelievably breath taking, realizing how small we are in the span of the entire universe. “What are you thinking,” he asks.

“You’re a supernova,” I say, almost drowsily. He kisses my pelvis and my stomach contracts at the touch.

“Are you space bound?”

I smile lazily, weaving my fingers through his wavy locks. He runs his thumb along my slit, over my panties. I shut my eyes, lolling my head back as I stifle a moan. My legs shake by the mere contact. “Yes,” I moan, quietly. His light stroke has me shifting my hips, begging him for more. “Are you sure,” I ask, one hand gripping his hair, the other kneading at my breasts through my suddenly uber-restrictive dress.

“Jude,” he murmurs, breath heating my pussy. I squirm some more and he holds me down. “I’ve wanted to eat you out for months now,” he says and my eyes fly open. When had I even closed them? “Wanted to taste this pretty pussy since our first kiss. Want to French it like I Frenched your mouth that first time.” I lick at my lips, inhaling deeply. My body arches, my center that much closer to his lips.

My grip in his hair grows tighter. “Oh,” I whisper, my face is heating at his words. “Oh!” I gasp when his hot tongue laves me through cotton. The pad of his tongue pressed against me and the ridge of his piercing perches right against my clit. “Holy…shit…” I tremble when his tongue starts a slow and hard lick, hitting nerve ends that have me seeing stars even when my eyes are shut. He pulls away and the cool air hits me like a shock. Cardan hooks his thumbs at the waistband of my panties and slowly drags them down, lifting my legs to take them off.

Cardan licks at his lips, sitting back to admire me, eyeing me as he tucks my underwear into the back pocket of his jeans. My chest is heaving and the blood rushing my ears is so loud, I almost don’t catch when he tells me, “I wanna see you touch yourself.”

“You do?”

He nods, “when I call you late at night, and you’re playing with yourself, I want you to show me what you do, Jude. I want to watch.” I blink rapidly, pulse beating like a hammer. God, I want him to watch, want him to see what he does to me, what he makes me do to myself. Taking a deep breath, I let my fingers spread my wet lips, and I stroke down to where my arousal pools and slowly drag my fingers up and down, feeling myself getting wetter and wetter. “If you’re a flame, I'm kerosene,” he whispers. Cardan’s eyes seem to darken further when I look at his face.

I let out a soft moan, pressing my finger down on that hardened nub, rubbing it tantalizingly slow. I spread my legs wider and lean back further, my back arching as I bite my lip in attempts to stop the noise I make when I slide a finger into myself. “Cardan,” I mewl. “Come on, Rockstar,” My voice is breathy and not my own in this moment. One finger turns to two and a low groan emits from the back of my throat as my strokes increase pace. “Touch me. Taste me.”

His hand is on mine now, halting my pleasure, dragging my wrist to his lips. I curse when he sucks my wet fingers into his mouth, the pulling sensation and his abrasive tongue making me restless, the barbell tracing a path to the tip of my finger when he pulls away with a pop. He guides that hand to his head and without much preface, buries his face between my thighs. I grab a fistful of his hair while my other hand digs into the dirt. His tongue laps up my center while his hands grab at my legs and adjusts them over his shoulders. “Cardan!”

My stomach tightens as he covers my clit with his lips, sucking as that metal ball in his tongue caressing me tortuously. “Oh,” I cry out, forgetting to breathe momentarily. “Oh, god, Cardan…” He slides a hand around a thigh and up to my navel, holding me still. I manage to uproot my fingers from the soil and frantically grab on to his hand, squeezing tightly. He adjusts our hold until we interlock fingers, letting me grip him harder the moment he sucks on me earnestly.

I let out a shriek, and I feel the vibrations as he chuckles against me. “Cardan,” I whimper, knees starting to shake, “I’m…I – oh god!”

His mouth sloppily kisses his way lower. He maneuvers his thumb to my clit, pressing down as his mouth works me. He sucks at my labia before sliding his tongue to my entrance. Thick and deep as he licks and suckles, the metal ball on either side of his tongue sliding against my walls. I’m barely even over that first orgasm and my body is almost unbearably sensitive to his touch. “Cardan, oh shit, oh fuck- oh my god, Cardan!” his tongue curves up and my hips buck. My thighs encase him, nails dig into his skin and hand on his head pushing him unabashedly further into me. He hums into my flesh, pulling away when I whimper. His lips glisten, as I struggle to raise my head to see him, the taste of me coating his mouth. He squeezes my hand and slowly inserts his long middle finger, calloused from his strings expertise and my eyes roll into my head, crossing when I fall back.

“You’re so tight and wet, Jude,” Cardan manages. “And you taste so fucking good.” He twists his wrists, his forefinger and middle finger periodically grazing and encasing my swollen clit.  He’s lax with his movements, as if coaxing me down from my high. My body feels as if it’s spasming and my mind can’t comprehend wanting to lay out like a puddle and simultaneously wanting to tense against him. I tug him by his hair and he moves up my body, my legs falling to his hips, his finger still sliding in and out of me. I pull him down, his lips already parted so I lick into his mouth, tasting myself on him. Cardan pulls his hand from our interlocked hold, bringing it to the side of my face, holding my hair back. My hands find his sides and I clutch him tightly, nails digging in though the fabric of his shirt.

He pulls away and the look in his eyes – by God, I’m falling. “Are you okay?” he’s so breathy, sharp little exhales matching his fingering.

A slow, wry smile is all I can manage, “You made me come in a cornfield.” Cardan lets out a startled laugh, leaning down to kiss the pulse at my neck. He slides his finger out of me and tries to straighten out my dress.

“Do you think you can walk?”

“Can you?” I mumble back, gesturing to the bulge in his pants. He chuckles, slowly getting up and adjusting himself, then he’s holding his hands out for me. When he pulls me up, I’m only partially surprised at how unsteady my legs are. I hold on to Cardan’s elbow as I sway slightly. He laughs a little, a small satisfied smirk he tries to hide when he bends down for his dirty jacket. He shakes it out then ties the arms around my waist.

“May I get my panties back,” I ask quietly, as if we weren’t the only two people still in the corn maze. He smiles, but instead of even acknowledging my request, he takes my hand and guides me until I’m behind him.

“Grab my neck,” and I do as he says, his hands are free now, so they reach back and grasp my thighs from under his jacket. “Jump up.”

“Cardan!” I shift, not used to being without underwear, let alone humoring the idea of piggy backing on him all the while.

“Jude,” he says in mock impatience. He tugs me and lifts me on to his back. By pure instinct, my legs wrap around him and he adjusts me higher before reaching for his phone awkwardly. After a few seconds of fumbling, he hands it to me.

“Oh my god,” I coo, when I see his screen saver is of the baby goat licking my nose. He must have taken it earlier without me noticing. He must definitely feel the way my heart beats hard against his back, but I don’t care when I kiss the shell of his ear.

“Don’t get an ego over it,” he says dryly.

I laugh, “I think I need an ego, given that you’re all famous now.”

His grip on me tightens. He lets out a huff and mumbles something like, “I just play bass.”

I shake my head, “Cardan, the non-lead singers are the ones who get the most devoted fans – fans that assume you or other people think you need to be appreciated more. They go, ‘oh my god, Cardan needs more love, you guys’ or ‘ugh Larkin is hot and all but damn can Cardan play that bass – look at his fingers,’ and they hold up big posters that say something like ‘bassists do it deeper’ or something.”

“Right, and you know this, why?”

I roll my eyes, “Because I’m your biggest fan, you goof. Now unlock your phone so we can find a way out of here.”

Settled back in the car, I’m blissed out – sedated even. I ask where he’s learned his tricks and laugh when he admits to reading one or two or a few of Liliver’s raunchy novels. I lean against the window now, partially watching the footage I’ve gotten today and partially taking in Cardan as he drives.

He’s got a wrist casually resting on the steering wheel, the other hand reaching for mine. He gives me a small smile, like he doesn’t really notice he’s doing it and it makes my cheeks run hot. “What?” I ask, after he’s peeled his gaze from the road three times in the matter of a minute to look at me.

He brings our locked fingers to his lips and kisses my fingertips. “You’ve got the prettiest smile,” he tells me. I roll my eyes, but I want to kiss him silly. Quieter, in which I don’t think he intends for me to hear, he declares, “I get it.”

“Get what?” I ask.

I watch his tongue dart out to lick at his lips. He taps his piercing against the enamel of his teeth, seeming to think over his words. “Every song on our album,” he starts, suddenly coy. “I get it – I get why Larkin wrote it all for my sister.”

My lashes lower, and I focus on the hand I’m holding, on the crescent shaped scars I left on him. My thumb slides down to trace the dark ink on his skin, trying not to read too much into his words. Still, I can’t help but ask, “You do?”

He locks eyes with me. Calm, serious, intense. “Yeah,” it’s almost hoarse but still so steady. “I do.”

∞

@cute898, @monawa, @afexiss, @somebodysqueen, @nish247, @andromeddea, @avenrebekah, @gamer670, @daddycardan, @outofstyles13, @vi0let-femmes, @babyillyrian @queenofdorkville, @courtofmadness, @queengreenbriar, @stormymeow,@goldbooksblack, @littlemergirl4779, @lalunaswhisperer, @archerons-arrow, @illyrianundercover, @atla-lok143, @fangirlinghard-spoilerson, @soup-that-is-too-hawt, @3am-reading, @tangledraysofsunshine, @readmeaway, @gently-say-aha, @breezyfreezey, @soup-that-is-too-hawt, @fi-fi-firefly, @alongwiththewindd, @an-teo520, @dracolovelaceisinlove, @sleeping-and-books, @city-of-fae, @inejghxfaa, @franticlittlegeek, @darlingod, @ame233, @feysand-dot-acotar, @l0sts0uls1128, @tswaney17, @shadesoflondonxoxo, @rapunzel1523, @hoegreenbrair, @lost0nline, @vera0124, @afexiss, @pala-done, @blackbirdswords , @sjmsstuff, @tintinnabulary, @flashytrashy, @the-unicornspoop, @books-and-sleep, @cailleach-na-speirtha, @acourtofstudyingandsuffering, @nitrot150, @foundtheavacados, @justccstuff, @goawayi-mreading, @kickassunicorn, @hoegreenbrair, @sjmsstuff, @feelthismom3nt-blog, @feeoly, @faefromthenorth, @queenofxhearts, @lovemollywho, @velarian-trash, @tessas-herondales, @alissa-kirk, @sophiespievak, @galllatea, @georgialeighc13, @clockworkgraystairs, @pilesofriles, @queentearss, @mustangsally913, @pilesofriles, @fangirlforever0704, @dayanna-hatter, @empress-ofbloodshed, @izou1204, @tintinnabulary, @13luecloud, @furiousflowerponypizza, @bamchickawowow, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @hizqueen4life, @thebookish-fangirl, @judehatescardan, @cardanslittletail, @burninjurdan, @rowaelin-percabeth, @amapformyjourney, @ghostlyrose2, @nephilimlove, @judexcardanxgreenbriar, @charincharge, @flowersinvegas, @selcouthdream, @lizzzziebear, @sleepybabything, @ysitsohardtofindaname, @lahistoriaquenoteconte, @blackjacks-donuts, @sincerelymetoyou, @brit-alltoowell, @poeticbrownmermaid, @aelin-queen-of-terrasen, @flamingliterature, @whatafuckingbabe, @thesirenwashere, @drewstarkeyobx, @dorkzrul, @an-ironic-pisces, @sluttyskeletonss, @ironic-noodles, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @kittkatandbooboo, @superrfk, @infinite-cats, @highlady17, @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit, @suchaspeciallittlesnowflake, @mar2203, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @mis-lil-red, @clockworkgraystairs, @pig-on-acid, @owl0y0s, @sanctalina, @cardan-s-tail, @st00pid231, @courtofjurdan, @booksofthemoon, @sarcasticsagittarius1998, @elriel4life

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours

A Folk of the Air/Omegaverse AU, rated E. Beta’d by @xdarkofthemoon.

When a car accident claims the lives of her parents, Jude Duarte and her twin sister Taryn—both omegas—are swept away by their half-sister's father and raised among the alpha upper crust of society. It sounds like something out of a fairytale. It is a nightmare.

Years later, after graduating at the top of her class from an exclusive, formerly alpha-only private school, Jude bumps into her nemesis at a party in the Hamptons and is mistakenly taken along when he's abducted for ransom. Now trapped together in a tiny cell, Jude and Cardan Greenbriar must get along in order to escape their kidnappers or face the consequences: injury, death, or whatever happens when Jude goes without suppressants for over two days.

Fic Playlist

Read on AO3 or read below:

My twin and I have barely spoken all summer.

“It’s about a stupid alpha boy,” I overhear our older sister Vivi say on the phone to her art school girlfriend one day, when she thinks I’m not listening. “They’ll get over themselves.”

But we don’t. If I can, I leave the room when she enters. When I can’t, mostly mealtimes, it’s tense and quiet. Just once I want her to follow after me, to apologize, to fight, to say something, anything—but she never does. Until one of our last weekends away in the Hamptons, when she comes into my room without knocking and launches herself onto my bed, jostling the mattress when she lands on her back.

“There’s a party tonight,” Taryn tells me breathlessly.

I barely look at her. All summer I’ve wanted to have a sister again, but now that she’s the one acting like we can just go back to normal, I refuse to engage her on her terms. I stay where I am, propped up on my pillows with my laptop on my crossed legs. I say, “There’s parties every night.”

“It’s in East Hampton. Basically next door.” Taryn turns onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. “We should go.”

I keep scrolling through Twitter. “You know I don’t like parties.”

“You don’t like high school parties,” she corrects. “You don’t like parties where everyone’s somebody we’ve known since we were eight. This is a real party. College boys. Older boys.”

I peer at her over my laptop. “Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

She nudges my foot. “You don’t.”

Sighing, I set my laptop on my nightstand, careful not to spill either of my water cups or knock over my stack of books, getting ahead of what I think I might need to read in my first semester of pre-law. Then I crawl out onto my stomach and lie perpendicular to her. “I don’t want a boyfriend.”

My twin wrinkles her nose. It’s weird to look at her and think that we’re technically identical. She’s pretty, with amber eyes and soft brown curls, whereas I feel like mine are tangles that never behave. And the way she moves her face is different. Sometimes Vivi will point out our quirks—the way we turn our heads in unison, how our scowls are the same—but I would never stick out my lower lip the way she’s doing now.

“What about fun?” she suggests.

“Oh, God.”

“I’m serious.” She pokes my side. “You deserve to have fun.”

“A party, huh.” I roll over onto my back, staring at the canopy above my bed. It’s a lavender color that I picked out when I was ten, when Madoc married his new wife and bought the house out here—for her, kind of, but also so we could chill out and do kid stuff, like splash around on the beach and roast s’mores over a fire pit. I’d outgrown lavender, and a twin bed, but it remained here, in the summer house in Amagansett. “It better not be one of the ones where you have to pay at the door.”

“Omegas drink free,” Taryn says, nearly sing-song.

I glare at her. “We are underage. We don’t drink anything.”

“Jude, college is in just a couple of weeks,” Taryn protests. “Don’t you want to take a chance to, I don’t know, do something stupid first?”

I chew on my lower lip to keep from saying what we both know well: stupidity is for alphas. Stupidity gets omegas killed.

She continues to pout at me, and as I try to puzzle out why she’s being so adamant about this, I realize that she doesn’t just want to do something stupid—she wants to do something stupid with me. She thinks maybe this will be the way to mend the rift between us that cracked open at prom. And even though everything about this plan smacks of danger, she might be right.

Nothing about the last few months has been normal. Maybe we have to do something aggressively normal to try.

So, fine. If she wants to go to a house party crawling with alpha douchebros to feel pretty and wanted for a night, it’s fine. I’ll be trailing behind her, glaring at anyone who gets too close and keeping her from ending up a cautionary tale on Law and Order: Designation Crimes Unit. And by the end of the night, maybe we’ll be closer for it.

“Stupid fun’s on the menu?” I ask. It doesn’t really sound like me. I have been careful for almost as long as I can remember. I have been careful since my parents died, and the times I have not been careful, bad things have happened. I don’t see myself changing my ways.

“Why not?” says Taryn.

And against the thousand and one reasons, I bite my tongue.

---

It is one of those parties where they charge a door fee, but as Taryn promised, we don’t have to pay. Omega girls usually get in free as long as we look somewhere in the range of eighteenish, even if the IDs that proclaim us twenty-one are obviously fake. Taryn hands ours over to the guy at the door and stands there smiling in her short sundress—she’s wearing actual shorts underneath, obviously, we’re not idiots. He just looks us over and says, “Twins, huh?” then hands our IDs back and waves us inside.

It’s a beautiful house, one of those grand, large, older-style mansions that’s been updated to modern standards but has still kept some of its charm. The foyer alone is eye-popping. Over ten years of having money, technically, and although I’m used to being around wealth, I am still conscious of all the ways I don’t fit in this world. I come into a house like this and feel like an impostor. I wasn’t born into it. I have my slot because Vivi has a different biological dad. That’s all.

Taryn looks totally at ease, though. She nudges me with her elbow to snap me out of it. “Let’s get something to drink,” she says. We both did our makeup, but I stuck to what I know—winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut—while she went for a trendy smoky eye. Everything about her is a little softer than me. She’s got her dress, and I’m wearing hard-to-remove distressed jean shorts (they were hard enough to put on) and a scowl that says stay back.

There’s a DJ, because of course there is, playing loud top 40 hits with a subwoofer that gives them all a growling purr. An open bar, because of course there is. But mostly the place is crawling with bodies. Taryn’s right that there are college guys here—some with university names emblazoned on their sweatshirts, since the nights do get cool out here—and other, older guys, the younger generation of junior finance bros and consultants who flee the city for open-air parties.

Taryn makes her way through the crush of bodies to order a screwdriver. I get a Coke in an unopened can, untampered with, that immediately starts sweating in my hand. I am sweating, too. There are too many people.

When I turn back around to tell Taryn we should go somewhere less crowded, I find that she’s already pushed out into the crowd. Her hair, brown with an auburn shine, is all I can see of her between the unfamiliar heads and shoulders. I feel a swell of panic and push it down. It’s not time to panic. There is never time to panic.

With sharp elbows and heavy feet, feeling a new wave of revulsion whenever a stranger’s sweaty skin slaps against mine, I make my way out of the crowd around the bar just in time to see Taryn’s yellow heels on one of the curved staircases leading up to the second floor. I swear under my breath and follow. It isn’t the last time I’ll swear tonight.

Because when I finally catch Taryn again on the second floor landing, she’s not alone.

“Hey, Jude,” Locke says with a little jostle of his red Solo cup which, I guess, is a stand-in for a wave. His other arm is around my sister’s waist. And Taryn is looking up at him with the same puppy-dog eyes I saw her give him on prom night, when I finally caught on.

Locke, the guy who tried to date both of us at the same time. Locke, now Taryn’s terrible boyfriend. That Locke.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand.

He shrugs and gives me a grin that burns like acid. I can’t believe it ever worked on me. “Company’s so good, how could I be anywhere else?”

“Go knot yourself.”

“Hard feelings, then?” He takes a drink from his red cup.

Taryn’s eyes are large, almost pleading. She knows there is no reasoning with me on this. “Jude. It’s okay.”

“Did you know he’d be here?” I demand.

She chews on her lower lip, which tells me everything. “I just thought—”

“If you thought I’d want to kiss and make up, you thought wrong. I don’t even want to be in the same house as this guy. I’m leaving. You’re coming.”

Taryn’s mouth presses into a stubborn line. “No. I’m staying. And you should too.”

I roll my eyes.

“Jude.” She tries to grab my hand, but I step back. She sighs. “You really could have fun. Meet somebody. You don’t know.”

I shake my head. “I do know, actually. I know I don’t want this. You do you, I’ll do me. That’s how it should have been in the first place.”

Taryn and Locke look at each other, and something passes between them that I don’t understand. Then, Locke nods. “All right. I won’t let Taryn out of my sight.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

He holds up the hand that had been resting against Taryn. “I know better than to get on your dad’s bad side, Jude.”

I hate to admit it, but Taryn probably is safer with Locke. Sure, she has a one hundred percent chance of making a piss-poor decision, but with an alpha she has real protection. I can handle myself—Madoc saw to that—but it doesn’t matter, not in this house. Taryn and I are two hens in a den of foxes.

So I lean in close to Locke, not breaking eye contact. “If anything happens to my sister, our dad will be the least of your worries.” I force a smile, pop the tab on my soda can, and take a defiant swig. “Have a great night.”

Then I flip him off and head back down the stairs.

The air here is oppressively horny. Alphas and omegas alike douse themselves in pheromones to be more attractive to the opposite designation. The scents mingling in the air make me sweat, and my nose itches. The omega smells don’t do anything for me, and most of the alphas make me want to retch. I’ve only ever thought a few of them smelled good. Locke himself was slightly to the right side of bearable. But the only one who really did anything for me was the worst of them all.

Even as I think of him, I feel like I catch his scent, dark and rich, on the air. But that’s impossible. He couldn’t be here.

Unless… dread prickles at the back of my neck. Locke is here. That could mean—

And because the universe is cosmically conspiring against me, that is the exact moment that I nearly stumble down the stairs and right into Cardan Greenbriar’s chest.

He’s sweating a little. We both are. I can see the individual beads of moisture on his neck as if my vision has suddenly sharpened. The smell of him fills my nostrils. He smells like coffee, like chocolate, like good red wine, all of those things and none of them and something darker and muskier. He smells like everything you know is bad for you but want anyway. He smells decadent. And rich.

If we didn’t have years of bad blood between us, I’d want to bury my nose in his neck. As it is, I kind of want to puke. I reel back from him until I am pressed against the bannister, as far away as I can get without going down any more stairs. He makes me weak at the knees, which is an unfortunate chemical thing. A little of my Coke has sloshed onto his black shirt.

“What the hell!” I yell over the music.

Cardan is momentarily confused, but blinks it away. He does not look nearly as surprised to see me as I am to see him. In fact, he always looks good, even better than he smells, which I find deeply unfair. “Jude. Hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

He gestures with the cup in his hand. It’s clear plastic, not red, and full of some dark liquor and perfect square ice cubes. He’s classy that way. “Well, it’s a party.”

“Did my sister set this up? Did you set this up?”

To my astonishment, Cardan looks mildly horrified. His mouth opens and closes, like he’s a stupidly attractive fish. And that tells me all I need to know.

“Forget it,” I say, turning my head away from him. I breathe in deeply through my mouth so I can’t smell anything. I can already feel my face flushing, my heart beating faster. Just an effect of the pheromones. I’ll be fine as long as I get away from him, and soon. I push off the bannister and head down the stairs. It’s a huge mansion, but I still don’t want to share it with Cardan fucking Greenbriar.

I can’t leave without Taryn, though. I don’t entirely trust Locke to get her back before morning, when our dad will flip his lid. So I figure hanging out behind the house is my best bet. There will be a pool, in all likelihood, and a fire pit, and we’re close enough to the water that the stretch of beach back there is almost definitely private. Space to get away from all of the other alphas and omegas crammed into this house. Space to get away from him.

While I am elbowing my way through the kitchen, I suddenly smell an extra-strong whiff of alpha musk, the bad kind. My heart begins pounding in my chest, and I go woozy in the worst way, the revulsion way. Then an arm encircles my waist, and a male voice says in my ear, “Hey, little Omega. Where are you running off to?”

My mind goes white with panic. The guy is alpha-bro strong—I can feel his pecs pressing into my back, his biceps straining from the effort of keeping me caught—and if I were most other omegas this would probably be it. The pheromones would overpower me no matter how good or bad I thought they smelled and the kitchen island is right there and he could bend me over it and everybody at this party would think it was consensual or not care either way.

But because I am me, and defective in so many ways, I stomp on his foot and jam an elbow into his gut for good measure. He makes a choked sound and lets me go, and I nearly fall flat on my face before I manage to take a half-step and plant my foot. I look behind me. It’s some guy I don’t know, probably college-age. He’s got rumpled brown hair and is wearing an NYU sweatshirt and an ugly expression.

“Bitch,” he snarls.

I push past a tall alpha girl who has her face buried in the neck of a shorter omega dude. The back door is so close. I have to get out. I have to get out.

When I finally push out into the cool fresh air, I almost start crying.

The night is clear. I run away from the house, past the chlorine blue pool, past the fire pit with its half-circle of chilly worshippers. Moonlight glimmers on the distant waves of the blue-black ocean. If I look up, I can see stars—more than I can see in the city, anyway. The entire scene is so disgustingly beautiful that I want to scream. It’s like nature is just another thing that’s mocking me.

I slow when I reach the beach proper and stop in damp sand, briefly considering taking off my sandals and wading into the water. I wonder if it would cool me off. But nothing can cool me off. I’ve known that for a long time.

There’s a little fire in me that I have learned to nurture and conceal, to let burn brightly enough to fuel my drive but not so brightly that I’ll start ripping off the heads of every shitty alpha I meet, starting with my classmates. In its one hundred year history, Insmire Academy had never taken omega students, although there was never anything in the charter forbidding it—it was just how things were. Taryn and I were the first omegas to ever graduate those halls, spiting jerks like Cardan who would sneer and tell us we’d never make it that far. Tell us worse. Try worse. Do worse.

On graduation day I got to look down from the podium as I gave my valedictorian speech and temper my little fire so I didn’t tell everyone exactly what I thought of them. My eyes still sought out Cardan, who had somehow managed to defy alphabetical order and sit with his friends, who snickered and jeered and whispered to Nicasia as I spoke. Even though I was up on stage and he was down with everybody else. Even though I had proven myself in ways he hadn’t, in ways that I thought mattered.

I mean, they mattered. They matter. An omega girl—a brown omega girl with a tragic backstory—graduating at the top of her class from one of the most famously elitist alpha academies on the East Coast? Of course it matters. It matters to the newspapers who ran that story, crowing about designation equality. It matters to colleges, who were eager to shower me in scholarships that I don’t need. And of course, it matters to my adoptive dad, who put his hand on my shoulder and told me he was proud of me, which is about as close to an “I love you” as I ever get from him. But it didn’t matter one whit to the people who’d hurt me most.

When I think it should be enough, it never is.

No, cold water won’t do anything. Plus, I don’t want to go home with sandy feet. That would only make my terrible evening worse. So I turn and begin walking down the beach away from the house, until even the teeth-rattling bass begins to recede behind me.

“Jude.”

I spin around. Cardan is making his way down the beach, toward me, skidding a little when one of his feet slips on the sand. He still holds his plastic cup, but he doesn’t seem to have trouble walking in a straight line. Maybe the fresh air sobers him up, or clears his brain of pheromones or whatever.

I turn my back on him. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I get that. But hear me out—”

He has the audacity to put a hand on my shoulder and looks shocked when I slap it off, whirling around to face him. “You don’t touch me,” I hiss. “You don’t lay a finger on me. Understand?”

It feels so good to say. I had so few chances to do it without facing dire consequences from our teachers or his friends when we were in school together. Cardan blinks at me again, struck briefly and blessedly dumb. “Uh, yeah,” he says. He holds up his empty hand and the one holding his drink, as if to say he means no harm. Like I would ever believe that. “Okay, clearly you don’t want to talk to me.”

I snort. “Guess you’re not used to taking no for an answer.”

“Just let me get it off my chest and then I’ll leave you alone. Deal?”

I sigh. He hasn’t done anything to deserve my time, but if I stalk off down the beach he’ll probably follow me. That alpha sense of entitlement. This will be the fastest way to get him off my back. “Fine.”

Cardan takes a drink from his cup, then says, “Wow, that is not remotely strong enough. Okay, so—” He blinks. “Um.”

“What, Greenbriar?”

“No,” he says, and he’s not looking at me but behind me. “We were alone a second ago, right?”

I do not look. “It’s anyone’s beach,” I say, even though that is probably not true.

“Yeah, but—”

“Look, you’re drunk and I’m not in the mood for bullshit. Say your piece and go.”

But Cardan is staring now, and because he’s freaking me out, I start to turn, too.

Then someone presses a rag over my nose and mouth, and I don’t get my wits about me in time to not breathe in. A sweet, pungent smell fills my nostrils and I think Oh shit because I know it’s too late to act. I try to kick whoever’s snuck up behind me, but I already feel dizzy and nearly topple over. A male voice swears, and I feel the press of the rag over my nose and mouth again.

I try the foot trick again, the elbow jab, but whoever they are deftly dodges me. I struggle, but it’s useless. The dizziness gets worse. Somewhere distant I hear Cardan trying to speak, or yell. When I listen harder, it sounds like he is yelling my name.

That’s weird, I think.

It’s the last thing I think for some time.

Next

[thiswasinevitableid]

1. Siren Indruck NSFW, Duck is hauling supplies for the small town of Kepler on a tiny boat. Due to dangerous storms, Duck takes a longer but safer and less traversed route. He doesn’t know he’ll be passing through a Siren’s territory. A siren who is looking for a strong and sturdy mate

Here you go!

Duck never tells anyone what he finds on the beach that day. 

He’s fourteen, looking for useful flotsam and jetsam tossed onto the sand by an ongoing storm. What he finds is an empty boat and a merman, silvery tail impaled with a spear in a piece of driftwood. Each time he tries to free himself, he winces and is unable to pull the weapon from his body. When he sees Duck, his red eyes widen and he bares sharp teeth in a hiss. 

“It’s okay” the boy kneels in the bloody sand, “I ain’t gonna hurt you. Or, uh, this’ll hurt for a sec, but it’ll be better than tryin to ease it out bit by bit.” He grabs the end of the fishing spear and pulls. The merman shrieks, quickly clamping his hands across his mouth as Duck pulls his handkerchief from his pocket to bandage the wound. 

“There, you should be able to-”

The creature is gone with a whip of his tail, sliding down the sand and into the waves. As Duck stands, a strange song floats from the foam for the briefest instant. A seasoned sailor can tell a siren from a normal mer on sight; Duck has never been to sea. It’s weeks later that he wonders what events resulted in the wounded siren and an empty boat. 

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

Any other day, Duck would put off this run until the black clouds no longer hung over the horizon. But the supply run last week didn’t come, so the isolated, coastal town of Kepler is running low on, among other things, the medicine needed to treat an illness spreading from house to house. He could put this off until tomorrow, but he won’t sleep well tonight if he does.

The boat loaded, he starts out to sea under unfriendly skies. Today is a day to follow the coastline and then circle Greenbriar Island to reach Kepler, rather than trying for a straight shot.  It’ll double his travel time, but it’s far safer in a storm and no one but a few locals know how to navigate it. Duck takes this route once or twice most years. This summer alone he’s had to take it six times, with today making a seventh. The abnormal number of storms weighs on the minds of coastal residents. Duck tries not to obsess over it, given that it’s solidly out of his control and there’s no use fussing over wind and rain; there’s only getting through them. 

Halfway through his journey, a rogue swell catches the underside of the boat and drags it along a rock, springing a leak in the hull. He ties off on a thin spire of stone, clambering onto a rock to try and repair the damage. It’s not a big leak, but it’ll be trouble if he lets it go. 

As he’s laying awkwardly with water lapping up his legs, a human head rises from the water a few feet from him. Silver hair, red eyes and, when it smiles, very sharp teeth. Harmless mermaids have teeth much like his own, which means he’s alone in the ocean with a fucking siren.

Duck’s learned many things since that day on the beach; how a song can paralyze a man better than poison, how the bite marks on the skin of certain bodies that wash ashore are called siren kisses

The siren begins swimming closer. Duck sighs, “If you’re gonna drown and eat me, can you do it on the way back?”

Red eyes blink, confused, but the siren stays where he is. 

“If I don’t make it to Kepler, lotta folks’ll get sick, some will even die. And I don’t think you got much use for medicine and canned food.”

The siren shakes his head. 

“Glad you understand.” Duck finishes his repairs under watchful eyes. At one point, the siren swims all the way to the rock Duck is perched on, resting his chin on his hands, as if enjoying the view. 

Duck scrambles back into the boat the moment he’s done, but no cold fingers try for his ankles and no splash announces something lunging upwards after him. A cautious glance as he starts the engine finds the siren sitting on the rock, silver-blue tail still half in the water. When he notices Duck looking, he waves. 

The rest of the journey goes as planned, the relief on folks faces when Duck docks worth the peril. When he reaches the siren’s territory on his return, no song tempts him. A lithe shape keeps pace with the boat, fin breaking the surface now and then. When he hits open water, the siren turns back, disappearing from view. 

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

There are sex dreams, and then there’s whatever the fuck Duck is having right now. Fingers stroke his hair, cling to his shoulders. Kisses coat his face and a voice whispers his name as the speaker offers themself to him again and again. He sees himself tangled with a man, face always just out of focus, who spreads his legs and lips so Duck can sink himself into the heat of his body. The dream is endless and he doesn’t care, doesn’t ever want to wake up. 

Saltwater in his lungs renders that desire useless. He snaps back to consciousness as another wave hits him; he’s up to his neck  in the cove below his house. 

“The fuck?” It’s only his footprints visible in the moonlight in the sand, so no one dumped him here. 

“Oh dear.”

“Jesus!” Duck stumbles back as glowing eyes peer around a rock. It’s the siren from yesterday, swimming purposefully as Duck wades backwards. 

“Look, uh, when I said I wanted you to wait to eat me, I wasn’t bein serious. Or, uh, I was, but I meant I didn’t want to be eaten ever, not just then. It was a, uh, a joke.”

“I am aware.” The siren stops as Duck topples on his ass in the shallow water, “and I am sorry. I, ah, I did not mean to lure you from your bed. I was not aware my mindless singing was enough to wake you. In most futures, you slept until dawn.”

“Uh huh, sure, because sirens are known to just serenade folks without wanting to drown ‘em.” 

“We do it more often than you might think.” The siren sighs, “I came here to keep you safe, and succeeded only in making you afraid.”

Duck, having scooted inelegantly onto dry land, watches the tan upper body of the siren sag. It’s awkward, a word not associated with this kind of mer. That suggests he’s telling the truth. 

“You gonna tell me why you’re playin watchdog at my house?” 

The siren chirps, intrigued, “In all but one future you told me to go away.”

“That’d just leave me with more questions. And so far, you ain’t done anythin other’n watch me; if you say this was an accident, I’m willin to hear you out.”

“Wonderful!” The siren claps his hands together and the tip of his tail flips out of the water. Then he clears his throat and recites, “I am known as Indrid Cold. As you noticed, I am a siren. I am also a gifted seer, artist, and lifeguard when humans are unconscious and thus will not try to kill me for rescuing them. I am an excellent fisher, and well-liked and/or feared by the larger creatures of this coastline. This is why I think I would be an excellent mate.”

“O-kay. Did you call me out here to practice your personals ad?” Duck smirks, charmed by Indrids earnest tone.

“This is not practice. I did a great deal of that earlier today. This is my formal declaration that I would very much like you to be my mate.”

“Ma--hold on.” The images from his near-fatal dream return, “were you singin’ to hit on me?”

Indrid crosses his arms, “For the last time, that song was not for you. It was about you, because I was daydreaming and my formless melody unintentionally conveyed the contents of said daydream into your mind.”

“So everythin in it, all that wild fuckin stuff, that’s stuff you wanna do with me?”

A nod, accompanied by a flash of white light under the water. 

“Why?”

“Because you are strong, and handsome, and capable on the water. I watched your futures yesterday and today and saw you are kind as well, well-liked by other humans but a little lonely at night. You are very nice to that small land-otter that lives in your house.”

“You mean the cat?”

“That’s the word! Yes, you are nice to your cat. You are not brash or cruel, and you look so very nice without a shirt. I...I like you, Duck. You are everything I want in a mate.”

“Feel like I might be missin’ some gills and fins.” He jokes to cover the fact he’s scanning his mind and body for the same dreamy lull he felt during the song. What he finds in it’s place is his ego purring from praise and wondering exactly what a siren would do for his mate.

“There is no rule that says I must choose only my own kind for such activities. I, ah, I know it is strange, given how little we know of each other, but I thought that, ah, since humans will have casual sex with each other maybe we could, or, ah, that is…” He’s watching Duck with such unconcealed hope that the human almost joins him in the water.

“Indrid, I’m real flattered. But I’d be a damn fool if I didn’t point out this feels like a fuckin trap. Pretty easy for you to drag me to my death once we’re, uh, in the middle of things. Not that I’m sayin you would.” He adds when the sirens smile dims. 

“A sensible concern. May I join you on land for a moment? There is something I want to show you.”

Duck pats the sand beside him, eyes following the ripples of Indrid’s tail as he swims, slithers, and slides onto the beach. It reminds Duck of an oarfish, though when Indrid spies him looking the scales flash deep purple. 

“Look there” Indrid points toward the end of the silver ribbon of scales; a round, white scar stares up at Duck. The details of a day over two decades in the past return to him.

“You’re the siren I found when I was a kid.”

“Indeed. I remember you by your eyes, though your face has some echoes of that day in it’s curves. You saved my life, showed me mercy when I expected none. Sirens do not forget a favor, and we do not kill those who once spared us. I will never harm you, even if you turn me away tonight. You will be safe, whether that is in my arms or merely in my territory.”

Duck avoids the stranger sides of life by the sea, citing a lifelong incompatibility with the weird. Turns out all he needed to find his exception to that rule is a handsome siren looking at him like he set the tides in motion. 

The human runs a finger up the sirens tail, sparks of purple and pale blue light igniting in it’s wake. 

“Didn’t know y’all changed colors.” He pets Indrid’s hip and the whole tail lights up this time. 

“I am a deep-sea siren by birth, we use light to communicate emotions.”

“Mind, uh, loopin me in on the conversation?”

“Purple means desire. It’s a common color in mating displays.” Indrid watches Duck’s hand  glide along his scales, and a burst of pale blue reflects across their faces. 

“And that one?”

“Submission.” Indrid murmurs, “it is, ah, not the most desirable color to show. My kind value strength and power; enjoying the opposite is an invitation to mockery.” The siren’s eyes stay downcast, even when Duck smooths silver hair from his face.

“Now, I like to joke as much as the next fella, but that don’t seem like somethin to tease about.”

“No?” Indrid’s gaze flicks onto Duck the instant before the man straddles him. Duck doesn’t even have to push him onto his back; he goes instantly, hands flat on the sand and tail twitching excitedly in the shallows. 

“No. Seems to me a sweet thing like you oughta be takin care of.” 

Indrid snickers, “That is not usually an adjective one uses for meAHahnn” he arches as Duck tugs his hair.

“Let’s get one thing straight, sugar; I decide what you get called. I wanna call you the most perfect creature in the sea, I will. And if I wanna call you a needy little mer who’s good for nothin but gettin fucked into the sand, you’re gonna nod and say ‘yes.’ Understood?”

The blue light flashing up his tail brightens, “Y-yes but, but why do you call me sugar? That is a food.”

Duck giggles, leans down to brush their noses together, “It’s a nickname, call you it because you’re sweet and I can’t wait to get my fill of you.”

“Ohhhh, I see.” 

“You wanna see somethin else?”

“Very much soOH, oh goodness.” Indrid gasps as Duck forces his gaze towards his cock attempting to free itself from his boxers. He grinds on the supple muscle of his tail to take the pressure off, chuckles when the siren whines and tries to kiss his chest. 

“Since you’re the only siren I’d ever even consider fuckin-” Duck pauses as Indrid moans loudly, digging his fingers into the sand, “you gotta show me how to go about it.”

“If, if you just continue as you are a little higher upyes, yes right there” He rolls his hips, purrs with such a blissful expression that Duck is powerless to do anything but kiss him. His affection grows when he notices Indrid clearly restraining his kisses so as not to catch Duck’s mouth or tongue with his sharp teeth. The last guy he fucked shoved his tongue down his throat without any build-up or finesse, and now all he can think is if only Indrid had made his feelings know sooner, Duck could have done away with shitty human dates and had an obedient, eager mer instead. 

“Mmmmm” Indrid licks his lips, runs his fingers up Duck’s sides, “kissing is nice. It is not something sirens often indulge in, so my chances to do it are few and far between.”

“Ain’t that a shame” Duck kisses the corners of his mouth, “lips like these were made to be kissed sore.”

Indrid purrs, wiggling his tail, and Duck looks down to see a slit opening where his clothed cock has been rubbing. 

“Huh. Kinda figured you had-”

“-I have both this and an appendage below it much like your own.”

“Handy.” Duck, in no mood to climb off the purring, otherworldly man, eases the waistband of his damp boxers just under his balls. 

“This, uh, this ain’t gonna actually create a, I mean, I don’t wanna accidentally-”

“Nono, there is no chance of procreation”

“And you’ll be okay with so little of you in the water?”

“Yesyes I will be fine.” Indrid tugs at his hips, bucks his own into the air in frustration. 

“Just checkin’ oh, oh fuck” Indrid is tight and ridged around his dick as it slides in, “fuckin christ, no wonder sailors’ll crash into rocks at the offerin of fuckin a siren, wait, fuck, that was probably rude.”

“I will let it slide” Indrid teases, the end of his tail curling around Duck’s left ankle, “on account of your body is so lovely I would beach myself and die gasping on your doorstep for a chance to touch it.”

“No need for that. All you gotta do is wait here like a good little mer and I’ll fuck you as much as you want.” The slit pulses as Duck slowly fucks in and out, and he knows he’ll have to throw out all his fleshlights after this because nothing will ever compare to the deliciously alien feeling of Indrid around his dick. 

“Do, do not joke about such things.” Indrid whimpers, clinging to his shoulders.

“I ain’t. You wanted a mate, right?”

“Yes, you, so very badly.”

“Well, you got one, and you feel so goddamn good on my cock I ain’t inclined to let you swim off and be someone else’s.”

“I do not want to, I only want you, please, please let me stay.”

Duck stills his hims and the siren writhes as he leans down. The human cups his cheek, “I want you to stay, ‘Drid. I wanna get to know you. Long as you promise you ain’t gonna fuck me unless you want to, and not because you’re scared I’ll turn you loose.”

“I promise.” Indrid initiates the kiss this time, purring when Duck takes his time kissing back. 

“Good. Now that we got that cleared up” Duck sits up, “be a good mate and take what I give you.” He fucks in as hard as he dares, dives back down to kiss Indrid’s lips and throat as the mer’s cock emerges. Duck finds he can grind his ass along the twisting shaft at the same time he drives his own into Indrid’s body, resulting in a wail of pleasure and teeth sinking into his shoulder. 

“Fuck!”

“Sorry!” Indrid squeaks, hiding his face in Duck’s neck, “it, it is a reflex-”

Duck yanks his head back to his shoulder, near the first mark, and holds it down, “Do it again.”

Indrid trills and pain lights up Duck’s body, the perfect counterpoint to the pleasure coursing through him with each roll of their bodies. The siren chirps and moans, nips his arms and ears, slides his tail along his legs as his cock pumps frantically against his ass.

“That’s it sweet thing, cum for me while I fuck you. Show me just what my mate is for.” Duck bites Indrid’s neck and cum splatters the backs of his thighs as Indrid’s repetitions of his name drown out the noise of the waves.  Duck’s orgasm follows fast, sweeps through him like the crescendo of a song carried on the night air. 

Duck stays buried in him well after he’s finished, mind already conjuring images of tying Indrid down in shallow water and keeping his cock warm all day.

“Duck?”

“Yeah, sugar?” 

“I, ah, I need to get back in the water.”

“Oh shit, yeah, sure.” He pulls out, tosses his sea-soaked boxers up the beach as Indrid slides into the sea. Duck wades in, stopping where it’s waist deep as the siren swims lazily circles around him. 

“Such a perfect mate.”

“Glad you still think so.”

Indrid curls up to him, rubbing their cheeks together, “Thank you for indulging me. Do...do you wish me to come back tomorrow? Or to stay tonight? There are no other mers between here and my territory, so there is no reason I cannot count this stretch as mine.”

Duck kisses one of the hickeys blooming on tan skin, “How’s about you stay the night. We got some things to talk about. And, if you’re real good, I might let you fuck me when we’re done.”

Indrid grins, “My dearest one, I believe we have a deal.”

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

Nowadays, if you ever go near Kepler and the surrounding islands, you may hear people talk about Duck Newton, beloved native son, skilled park ranger, and the only man receive siren kisses and live to tell the tale. 

[themadauthorshatter]

If you're up to date with my posts, then you know what's about to happen.

I've read the books, WE'VE ALL READ THE BOOKS, but this is a somewhat fun switch-a-roo.

Expect a BUNCH of changes that I'll try justifying, especially painful ones, so bear with me🙏

OTP SWAP PART 1: THE CRUEL PRINCE!!!!

I'm starting with the first book for obvious reasons

Like before, we start in the mortal world with Ashley Duarte(yes, human!Cardan's last name is Duarte, but like I said, bear with me) making tacos in the kitchen while one of the MANY dogs and other animals wait for her to drop some food. Baby boy Cardan and his older half-sister Rhyia are watching some human stuff, maybe Looney Tunes or old Mickey Mouse cartoons, when the door is knocked on, which alerts the animals and wakes a half asleep Cardan; Rhyia does not wake up.

Cardan answers it and finds a cloaked Madoc at the door. Rather than ask who he is or call for his mother, he stares at this man, who kneels and asks as evenly as possible if his mother is home.

Cardan slams the door in his face, which prompts Ashley to ask why he did so.

Madoc BANGS on the door and shouts, "Asha!" and Ashley pales as she realizes who is at the door.

She demands Cardan to go upstairs as Madoc kicks the door open and walks inside, giving the same speech as the original, that Balekin told him she'd ran away with his daughter, that she killed a woman who was just as pregnant as her, that she ran away and married some lowly farm hand and blacksmith. He thought it was a lie, but nope. Here she stands.

Asha(which is her real name) is deeply ashamed at his words, and tries to pull Cardan away; an angry Madoc is an unstable Madoc.

Like before, Justin rushes in to save his family, but ends up getting kebabbed with his wife.

Rhyia does wake up to see both and Madoc spills the tea that she's his and needs to pack her bags because they're leaving, and Cardan's coming with.

Cardan, despite being seven, is outraged and tries to kick Madoc into oblivion with no avail. Rhyia, however, swears that she'll never love a monster like Madoc, who simply scoffs and tells her to wrangle the human and gather her things in half an hour, because they're leaving for Faerie.

Reluctantly, they do and they never see the mortal world again for a very long time.

Jump to the present day as Cardan, a now seventeen year old human heart throb, is getting prim and proper for a revel. His hair is getting styled nice, he's in a nice suit, he's wearing a cool belt that makes him look like he has a tail, and has ear cuffs that make his ears look pointed like a faerie.

He also has rowan berries on his wrist, because he doesn't want the necklace to be easy to see as a lot of his shirts show his chest.

He's dolled up and meets Locke, his brother that came around when Madoc married Oriana and had Oak. The two did not get along, at first, but they began to tolerate each ither as they realized they were the only humans in Faerie that were gentry kids.

Locke is more of a bard or a poet, always seen with a little book, and doesn't wear the same stuff Cardan does, so no pointed ear cuffs for him. He's also more accustomed to Faerie, being good with half truths and minor deception. He's on good terms with both Madoc and Oriana.

Cardan, however, is not on good terms with either of them, as he has tried multiple times to leave Faerie, with and without Rhyia with him, and every time ended with Madoc outside scowling at him and leading him back to his room. Still has that 'no kill' rule, but he's better with sneaking and a sword, having been able to lighten his steps so he could sneak past Madoc and his guards whenever he tried to leave. He's not bad with a sword, but he still has a lot to learn, being 17 and all. When he doesn't have a sword in his hands, he has an animal in them, i.e. a foal, a dog, or, at one point, a skunk that was calm enough to not spray him. Yeah, animal lover that can hold his own.

The two exchange banter and Locke shows show rare excitement for this revel, saying the two will have the time of their lives. Locke, who isn't as close with her, wonders where Rhyia is, but Cardan reveals she's not attending, instead going to visit some friends in the mortal world.

Her funeral as the boys saddle up with Oriana amd Madic and go to the revel.

Similar events occur, like Oriana telling the boys to be careful, Madoc talking to Dain and Balekin, and Locke leading Cardan through the revel so they can have a good time.

IT GOES DOWNHILL WHEN THE GREENBRIAR TWINS AND THEIR FRIENDS ARRIVE. Jude, her older sister Taryn, and their friends, Edir, a bard that can sing and play anyone under the table, Valerian, who's a sadist, and Nicasia, the princess of the Undersea.

Jude and Taryn may have the same face and body, but don't be fooled, Jude has horns, always wears a sword, and will slap you in a dress and then set it on fire without a second’s hesitation. Taryn, however, always has a bunch of flowers in her hair, always wears a dress, and uses words as her weapon. Did you know that she broke on of the most boisterous men in Faerie qith nothing but her words? True story. Edir is the guy that keeps them both in check, an order of Balekin's, which we'll learn later. He is also more of Jude's friend and Taryn's bed buddy, in SFW terms. Nicasia is Jude's friend, like FRIEND, and Valerian is the same, really, just more of an ass now that he has more even targets.

Everyone bows to these guys, even Cardan and a smirking Locke. That smirk vanishes when Taryn winks at Cardan, who Jude GLARES AT.

Locke feels the same way, cinfused and angry, but no time to think in it because Valerian storms toward a confused Cardan and grabs him by the collar, snarling that he can play dress up and make believe all he wants because it won't hide his plain hair or round ears or barn dog smell, so he shouldn't even bother.

Valerian throws him back and Locke rounds on Cardan, asking him what the hell that was between him and Taryn. Cardan brushes him off, as it was just a wink, not a lap dance. Before they can REALLY go at it, crying draws their attention and see that Jude just pincushioned someone who didn't bow, said someone nkw having a hole in their stomach and a slash across their torso. Taryn is annoyed, Nicasia and Valerian are trying not to laugh, and Edir, who's embarassed, is scolding Jude for losing it at a revel.

Jump to after the revel and the day of school. The boys do indeed get dirt kicked on their food, but instead of 'make me,' Cardan snaps, 'TRY me,' because Nicasia asks if he's as filthy as other human boys. Locke talks him down, but Valerian, kicking more dirt and even throwing some IN Cardan's face, asks if the two qould like them for friends.

Locke apologizes for Cardan, but Jude commands he prove it by dropping out of the tournament, it'll be less embarrassing than getting his ass beaten in front of everyone.

Nicasia spots one of the ear cuffs and pulls it off, asking if he stole it. Big mistake because the cuff burns her hand, as it is iron and iron hurts Faeries.

Cardan smirks and the group leaves, Locke scolding him for being stupid.

Later, at dinnner, after talk of Dain's coronation, Cardan, despite some minor objection from Rhyia, asks Madoc a question: May he please have a green sash for the tournament? Why? He would like to be a knight, please and thank you. Madoc chikes on his wine, Locke coughs to hide a laugh, Rhyia winces, and Oriana os shicked into silence.

Madoc gives it to him straight: he's not bad with a sword, he's good on his feet,and he's the best damned rider that anyone's ever seen, but no. He cannot compete for knighthood, on the count of being the furthest thing from a killer imaginable and just being in over his head.

Cardan protests that he can do just fine, but Madoc warns him to stop before he gets himself thrown in a dungeon instead if his room until the coronation of prince Dain.

Cardan relinquishes and we get the salt prank like before, except Locke is pissed beyond all reason at his foster brother. Cardan doesn't mind until he's grabbed by Edir and Valerian, Locke being pulled by the hair by Jude and both are thrown in the river, which has Nixies in it.

Thier supplies get yeeted, Locke gets pulled out by Valerian and is made to kiss Jude on the lips and both her horns, but, when asked, Cardan does not give up, vowing that he will never give up, which makes Jude laugh and the group leave.

Locke and Cardan walk home, get some baths, and go to bed, except they go to the mortal world with Rhyia and meet her friends Vivienne and Heather at the mall. Vivienne apologizes for Jude's behavior, and we learn that Rhyia is planning to leave Faerie, and is probably going alone.

The boys return and endure a lesson, but Jude pushes Locke's buttons, so Cardan pushes her into a tree. Challenge accepted.

TOURNAMENT TIME!! Cardan fairs wellin that Valerian is lazy, Edir is out of shape, and Jude got cocky, so he wins.

Jude fumes at him, later grabbing him by the tail on his belt amd demanding he beg for her forgiveness. He does... NOT! And spits in her face that she may push him down, but he'll pull her down with him, and it will hurt her like hell.

Taryn approaches him and expresses interest in him, saying that she once took both Edir and Nicasia from Jude because people just like a sensitive girl.

She leaves and the tournament eventually ends, which leads Cardan to return hime and meet Dain, who requested one of Madoc's people to tell Cardan one of Eldred's children had come for a visit.

Dain and Cardan get talking and Dain offers him something that isn't knighthood: spying. Plus one wish.

Cardan knows what he wants: to not be controled.

Granted, but Dain can still control him and the fruits of Faerie will still effect him.

Screwy, but deal, he's a spy now

STAY TUNED FOR PART 2!!!!!

[wylanvnneck]

This 2 part fic was written for the Secret Snusband Gift Giveaway hosted by @jurdannet​ and @jurdannetrevels​ for my lovely Knife Wife @lilacs-with-lavender​.

Rating: T for Tyrannosaurus

Summary: Inspired by an episode of my favourite Cop TV show, ‘Castle’, in which a bet takes place with pretty high stakes, although the plotline has been tweaked to fit this fandom. My Knife Wife said she loved the Enemies to Lovers trope so that’s what I’ve (tried to) write here and I hope you enjoy the story of Homicide Detectives Jude Duarte and Cardan Greenbriar and their mutual enmity.

Warnings: Not so graphic descriptions of murder and mention of drugs. (Really not sure what I need to tag, so please let me know if I’ve missed something.)

Posted as a Gift on AO3 | Part 2 | Masterlist

Part 1

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

“Victim’s name is Taryn Santorini, a metal sculptor by trade, she was found by her doorman fifteen minutes before we traced the address in Chloe’s hand back to her.” 

Detective Jude Duarte looks down at the motionless face of a scared looking brunette, a crimson splatter painting the tiled floor around her lifeless body. The room around her is a mess, clothes scattered everywhere, bed ruffled and unmade and metal figurines placed haphazardly throughout the little apartment.

“Lil, talk to me, what are we looking at?”

Before the white-blonde haired medical examiner crouched on the floor by the body can answer, a smooth dark voice that Jude so detests cuts through the air behind her.

“Why, Duarte, I’d say that the fact that Tara What’s-her-name was shot and killed is rather obvious.” The despicable excuse of a detective steps forward, a smug grin pasted to his face. Cardan Greenbriar, entitled little rich boy, over-confident bastard and sadly, her partner.

Patience, Jude reminds herself, patience was a virtue. 

“I meant, as I’m sure Lil knows, with what model was she killed and when?”

Liliver shoots her an amused sympathetic look before turning her gaze back to the victim.

“Looks to be a gun with a 45 caliber, same as the one used to kill Chloe Tatterfell. I’d say Taryn here has been dead for about 12 hours so pretty close to Chloe’s time of death, maybe just a half hour or so afterwards.”

“So chances are it’s the same killer.” Cardan interjects, the smug smile a little less vibrant now. 

“Yep. I’ll have to get her back to the morgue so  I can do a full inspection, see if I can find anything helpful.”

Jude steps back from the crime scene to give her some space, almost bumping in to the officer taking pictures of the area for later use. 

“Thanks, Lil.”

“Just doing my job, sweetie.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Jude clips a glossy picture of their latest victim onto the precinct’s murder board. “Garrett and Van questioned practically all known associates of both Chloe and Taryn and none of them could recognise the other victim. There’s no obvious connection between the two and yet, for some reason they were both killed on the same day, by the same person.”

“And with the same gun.” Cardan is leaning back in his chair, his posture insouciant and his curly black hair falling lazily over his forehead. Surely that was a violation of precinct dress codes? Not that he’d care either way, rule breaker that he was. God knew it was only because of his daddy’s clout that he’d even graduated from the academy in the first place, whilst people like Jude had to work hard and save every penny and fight to get anywhere in the field of Law Enforcement.

“Ok, I’m going to head to the morgue whilst Van and Gare check through the victim’s phones and financials, see if Lil has anything for us.”

“I suppose, being the dutiful partner that I am, I should come with you?” Cardan’s drawl is as irritating as usual and Jude can hardly wait to get out of the proximity of his stupid raven locks and smoldering eyes.

“Please, you’d be doing us both a favour if you didn’t.”

“Aw, come now Jude you know you’d miss me.” He lets out a dramatic sigh as he half heartedly stands from his chair to join her as she speeds by towards the exit and she just barely resists the urge to throttle him.

Lil bustles around her examining room as she adjusts the fluorescent lamps shining down on both the victim’s bodies’. 

“So, apart from the type of bullets that killed them, the only similarity that I could find between the two victims is the fact that they both have tattoos.”

Jude raises a brow. “Everyone has tattoos.”

From across the autopsy table Cardan’s eyes gleam as he smirks. 

“Oh really? You got some ink on you, Duarte?” 

His tone is disbelieving and Jude can’t resist messing with him a little.

She pastes an obviously fake flirtatious smile on her face and drawls in a sugar sweet voice, “Guess you’d have to find that out on your own, Greenbriar.” 

She bites at her lip for good measure and thinks once more of how bad she would be at flirting in earnest. Lil certainly couldn’t keep the laughter out of her gray eyes. Cardan, however, has a strange look on his face, one that Jude can’t quite decipher, but she’s pretty sure she’s just one-upped him and she can’t deny the slight sense of triumph that the thought gives her.

 She turns her attention back to the victims. “You were saying, Lil?” 

“I’m saying that these tattoos seem to have been done by the same artist. Look,” she pulls back the white cloth covering the body of Chloe Tatterfell, gently pushing a strand of brown hair off of her shoulder to reveal the cartoonish character of a rose, inked in with dark black ink.

She then turns to Taryn’s body to reveal a similarly styled tattoo of a mermaid on her wrist. Just as she’s pulling back the cover Jude’s back pocket vibrates and the sound of her plain ringtone travels through the air. Quickly she swipes upwards to answer the call and it’s Garrett.

“Yo, so we looked through the victims’ phone records and found a connection. Both Chloe and Taryn made a phone call on the day that they were killed to the same number, belonging to a Locke McCutchins, he’s got priors including robberies and domestic assault.”

By the time he’s finished speaking she’s already waved a quick goodbye to Lil and turned to walk out the door, not bothering to check if her partner was behind her.

“Alright, text me his address, let’s go pick him up.”

“Locke McCutchins, open up, it’s the NYPD!” Garrett bangs on the door and the force is so strong that the wood vibrates as Jude clutches her pistol in her hand, body flat against the wall of Locke’s apartment with Cardan right beside her.

There’s no answer and the door is broken down as she, Cardan, Garrett and Van file into the room in a practiced motion that’s as familiar to her as breathing.

Right in front of them, sprawled across his couch, lies the dead body of Locke McCutchin, his tawny eyes still open and gazing unseeingly up at his ceiling, a dried red patch visible on his shirt.

Garret drops to the floor beside the couch, his sandy hair falling over his face as he leans over to check Locke’s pulse whilst the rest of them look on after having taken note that the apartment was clear.

“Body’s cold, he’s been dead for hours, entry wound looks to be about the same size as the other victims.”

Jude scrunches her eyebrows as she stands in front of the murderboard for the second time that day.

“So, Chloe Tatterfell, Taryn Santorini and Locke McCuchins were all killed within the span of 24 hours, all with the same gun, presumably by the same killer and yet so far the only connections we’ve found are Taryn’s address that was found written on Chloe’s hand, the phone call from both women to Locke and the similar tattoos on both Chloe and Taryn, but not on Locke.”

“Hmm.” Cardan seems to materialise out of nowhere, carrying a paper cup of what smells like freshly brewed coffee. Jude was convinced that he took his coffee with added alcohol but she had yet to prove it.

“What’s with the glare?” he asks.

“It automatically deploys itself when you're around.”

He scoffs. Twirls his coffee around. Takes a long, slurping sip.

“Hey, Duarte? Don’t get me wrong, I mean, the feeling is mutual, but what exactly is it that makes you despise me so much? I’d like to know so I can make sure to keep doing it.” 

Jude barely deliberates over her answer before she responds. 

“Being an overly cocky, obnoxious jerk who has only managed to get this far thanks to his Daddy’s fat purse will definitely be the best way to make me hate you, trust me.”

He grins but there’s no humour in the curve of his sensual lips, his eyes are cold metal.

“You think that the only reason I’m a detective is because of my father?”

“Yup.” She makes sure to add plenty of emphasis to that one word.

Cardan opens his mouth as if to speak, stops, presses his lips together so hard that they turn pale before the colour returns to them when a slow smile spreads across his face, this time full of humour, but the decidedly darker kind.

“Let’s make a bet. If you can figure out what the connection between our three victims is before I do, I’ll go right up to Captain Madoc myself and request a change of partners so you can be rid of my ‘overly cocky, obnoxious’ self. Deal?” 

He was extending a challenge and Jude was never one to back down from those. Besides, the chance to be rid of him with no cost to herself or her reputation was too good to pass up on. Still, there had to be a catch, with Cardan, there was always a catch.

“And on the complete off-chance that you figure it out first? What happens then?”

“If I figure it out first...you have to come with me as my date to this party that my dad’s having in a couple days.”

Those last few words come out in a rush and Jude has to take a moment to decipher their meaning. Followed by another moment to wonder if she’d somehow completely misunderstood what he’d said.

“You want me to what?”

“Be my date to a party. Honestly Duarte, do you have any idea how many women would jump at this opportunity?” His tone is disgustingly nonchalant. 

“I-” she struggles to find the words. “Take one of them then! Don’t you have a girlfriend, Nicasia or something like that? Blue hair and eyes? High pitched voice? Talks a lot about how much she gets seasick?”

“You know, for someone who’s only met Nicasia once you do remember quite a bit about her.” His steady gaze on her is intense.

For some incorrigible reason Jude has to resist the urge to flush.

“I’m a detective. It’s my job to study people.”

“Right. Sadly, Nicasia and I are no longer together, if we ever were. I got bored. Hence, why I need a date.”

“I’m sure you could just take one of your scores of female admirers, you don’t need me.”

“Is that jealousy that I detect in your voice?”

“Cardan.” 

“Look, the point is, I can’t be bothered having to deal with yet another simpering female who thinks that one night on my arm means a promise to a life-long relationship complete with marriage, a fancy mansion and exactly 2.5 kids. All I want is a companion for one night so I don’t get hounded by my mother for not having a girlfriend by which she can procure some grandchildren.”

“Oh so now you want me to be your fake girlfriend?”

He rolls his eyes up at the ceiling and she fights the urge to slap him. 

“It’s just for one night! Besides, I thought me winning was barely even a possibility to you.”

She makes a noise at the back of her throat. “It is.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is. Do we have a deal, or not?” He holds out his hand, sculpted eyebrows raised in confrontation.

She doesn’t really think he has much of a chance of figuring it out before her, but he had admittedly also proven adept at figuring certain things out in previous cases so there was definitely no certainty that he wouldn’t win, for all her bravado. Yet, her competitive nature couldn’t bear the thought of surrendering, so she pushes her unease aside and grips his hand in a firm shake. 

“Deal.” 

There’s an awkward moment when he takes a little too long to release her hand from his grip. Once he finally does, the rather pointy tips of his ears reddening, they both turn back to the murder board and the view of their murder time line and crime scene pictures, furiously trying to connect the dots in their heads.

A random thought intrudes in her brain.

"Wait, what if Garrett and Van figure it out before we do?”

As one, she and Cardan both turn towards the opposite side of the office where the two officers in question sat in front of their computers.

Van was typing in data on his computer, eyes glazing over and the tuft of black hair atop his head trembling whilst Garrett, or, The Ghost - as he was sometimes called thanks to his tendency to take months before answering non-work related messages - stood eating glazed donuts with one hand and speaking to someone on the phone held in the other. Jude loved the both of them but she had to admit that they didn’t exactly paint the most inspiring picture. 

Once again she and Cardan are in sync when they promptly turn back towards the murderboard and proclaim, “Nah.”

Van’s excitement is clearly written on his face when he walks straight up to Jude’s desk the moment she arrives at the precinct the next morning, slamming down a manila folder with the NYPD crest printed on it onto her neatly arranged table top.

Immediately she reaches out to open it, desperate for a break in the case that would not only put a three time killer behind bars but also ensure that she herelf wouldn’t commit murder if she lost the bet and had to pretend to be Cardan’s girlfriend for a night. The thought makes her want to shudder.

“So, I was looking into all of our victim’s financials and I noticed an anomaly. Two weeks ago on the 7th they each deposited 95 hundred dollars into their savings accounts, but we’ve got no way of tracing the money back because the amount is under the IRS’s investigative limit” Van takes a quick pause before continuing, “but that’s not all, both Taryn and Chloe have credit card charges for small amounts at a tattoo place called Fair Folk Inks down in Queens.”

“Great, that’d be the place where they both got tattoos, I’ll go down there and ask the owner a couple questions, thanks Van.” She puts the sheaf of financial accounts back into the folder and takes a quick swig of her usual morning coffee, black, no sugar before preparing to head out once more.  

“Going somewhere, partner?” 

She’d bumped straight into Cardan when stepping into the elevator and she lets out a small groan of frustration as she steps back from his sturdy form. He looks annoyingly chipper, usual cocky smile in place and laughter in his tone as he looks down at her slightly shorter self. His cologne is strong and emanates the scent of the woods and sunlight in the small elevator. The woods and sunlight? Clearly foregoing the rest of her morning coffee hadn’t been a good idea.

She’d thought she could make it out of the building before he finally arrived, necessitating in having to take him along as well, but clearly fate had other ideas. 

“Tattoo parlour. Queens,” she grits out.

“Let’s go then,” his tone is sickly sweet.

“Hi there, you guys lookin’ to get inked?” asks the pink haired girl behind the counter in fishnet tights and a tank top, looking up from where she is perched on a stool behind the counter when she hears them enter.

The parlour itself is shiny and white, the smooth metal counter and two spaced out black leather tattoo chairs complete with wheeled stools are the only pieces of furniture in the small space. Mounted on the walls are designs, each of them evoking a sense of fantasy. A pixie there, a selkie here, an ornate dragon, all staring right back at Jude as she takes in their surroundings. She takes note of the fact that the pictures staring back at her were very reminiscent of Chloe and Taryn’s tattoos, solidifying her suspicion that this was where they had got them done.

Before she has time to explain the reason for their visit, Cardan pipes up.

“You know, I’ve been thinking of getting one of a slithering snake, maybe across my back? I believe it would add to my already abundant sex appea-”

“Actually,” Jude cuts him off with her most scathing glare, to which he irritatingly responds with a grin. “We’re here on official business, NYPD, we need to speak with the owner of this establishment.” She holds up the badge that she’s just extracted from her plain black wallet as she speaks.

“That would be Vivi, hang tight a sec I’ll go get her.” With a sway of her hips Heather trounces off behind a curtained section at the back of the parlour. 

Unable to stand still for even a few moments, her partner has already wandered over to the corner of the room, pointing at a pinned up design, ““That goblin over there reminds me of Van.”

She ignores him. 

“Oh come on Duarte, you have to admit, there’s a definite resemblance.”

She spares the quickest of glances at the design and it’s true, there’s a striking similarity, but she isn’t about to give him the satisfaction of agreeing so she simply makes a non-committal grunt of recognition.

“Tell me, are you always this tightly wound or is it just for the majority of your day?”

“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows have inadvertently traveled upwards on her face and she can’t believe he has the audacity to say what he just did, although really, she shouldn’t be so surprised.

“Come on Duarte, we’ve been partners for quite a while now and I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you laugh.” He’s standing a few feet away from her, his expression serious, not backing down.

“It’s called being professional.” She can feel the muscles working in her face as she hisses out the words through gritted teeth, blood pounding furiously. 

“Ahem.” She whirls around to find a tall bronze haired woman with striking cat-like eyes that were currently meeting her gaze wearing a lazy look of amusement.  

“Heather said there were some policemen who wanted to ask me some questions?”

Jude cannot believe that she had just gotten so sidetracked by her insolent partner that she’d forgotten why she was currently standing in the middle of a Tattoo parlour in Queens, clutching a set of regular sized close ups of three now dead people. She tamps down the irritation at her own actions as she thrusts out the photos in front of the woman facing her, Vivi, the pink haired girl had said.

“Yes, ma’am, do you recognize these people?”

She watches intently as Vivi carefully peruses the pictures before answering, “I know the two girls, Taryn and Chloe, we’re friends, I’ve even tattooed the both of them. I’m not really sure who he is.”

“Are you sure you don’t know him? Look carefully.” Cardan is all business now, stepping up to Vivi.

“I’m sure.” Vivi’s tone is almost defiant, daring him to question her again.

“You said that you were friends with the girls, how close were you?” 

“They came into the tattoo parlour at the same time about a month ago and we started up a conversation, we exchanged numbers and would meet up for a drink from time to time.” 

“Did they ever meet up with just each other?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Can you think of any reason as to why they’d both be killed by the same person?”

“They’re...they’re dead?”

Jude had intentionally asked the question in a way that would require a reaction and she wasn’t sure that she was entirely convinced by the shocked undertone of Vivi’s voice.

 “I’m afraid so, ma’am.”

“She’s hiding something.” Once again Jude is back in front of the murderboard, furiously capping and uncapping a whiteboard marker as her mind whirls. She’s full of nervous energy, on the brink of a precipice and she wants nothing more than to be able to push herself off of it.

“Agreed.” Cardan is pacing the floor between her and the murder board and his posture indicates that he’s just as worked up as she is.

“But what I can’t understand is why she would kill two of her acquaintances plus a random vending machine operator, I mean, there’s no clear motive.” She’s barely conscious of the slight pain that tingles as she worries at her bottom lip.

Cardan halts in front of the board, takes a hard look at the scrawled timeline on it before once more resuming his brisk walk.

 “And what the hell is the connection between these three victims? They lived in opposite neighbourhoods, worked in completely different areas and fields, never seemed to have been in the same place at the same time and yet somehow they were killed by the same hand. Also, where did all that money come from?” 

His phone chooses precisely that moment to start ringing and the sound of ‘Horns’ by Bryce Fox cuts through the tension. 

“It’s Liliver,” he mouths as he swipes upwards to answer and puts the medical examiner on speaker phone.

“You got something for us Lil?’

“You bet I do. I had scraps from the victims’ clothings tested to try and find a common link. What I found were traces of bleach, acetone, sodium chloride and ammonia.”

“Drugs. They were making drugs. That would explain all the money.” Jude is burning and luminescent with victory, until Lili’s next words cut her down.

“It’s not drugs.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because of what isn’t there. If your vics were making drugs, there’d need to be a couple more ingredients. That being said, they were definitely up to something.”

She lets out a sigh of defeat. “Thanks, Lil.”

Cardan hangs up before bringing his fingers up to his temples, massaging the sides of his head as he burns a hole into the board in front of him.

Jude bites back a scream. “This is like the start of a bad joke, a teacher, a sculptor and a vending machine operator walk into a tattoo parlour…”

He scoffs, “Yeah, except we don’t really have a punchline.”

“Other than ‘they made a bunch of money and got themselves killed.’”

There’s a lull in the air and the frustration is palpable. There was so much more than just their bet at stake here, there was the need for justice for these three victims, who regardless of their crimes likely didn’t deserve what had befallen them. Besides, there was no way that they could let a ruthless killer roam the streets freely.

Suddenly, Cardan whirls around to face her, once again bringing his pacing to an abrupt stop, with a speed to rival that of the animal that was his tattoo inspiration.

“Made a bunch of money,” he repeats. 

He sounds like he’s just jumped off of the precipice. She, on the other hand, remained firmly mounted to the ground. 

“What?”

“A sculptor who works with metal, a chemist and a vending machine operator...I know what they were up to.”

Slowly, the light starts to dawn on her and her pulse speeds up. Yes, she thinks.

“Think about it, when counterfeiting money, what’s the biggest problem you face? Finding the paper,” he continues.

“And a vending machine operator would have an endless supply of one dollar billls!”

“Exactly, then the chemist would come in, using the chemicals that were found on the vic’s bodies to white wash those bills.”

“And then the sculptor would be able to fashion a set of metal plates with which to type in fake serial numbers’ so they can get larger denominations of money…”

“Right! So, plates, paper, there’s just one missing ingredient.”

Beaming smiles break out on both their faces when, in unison they reach the same conclusion. 

The 12th Precinct’s interrogation room had contained many suspects from the time it was built. Some were innocent and some were guilty, but there was no doubt in both Jude and Cardan’s minds that the feline woman currently seated across from them with her legs up on the table was one hundred percent guilty. 

“So you think you’ve figured it all out, huh?” Vivi’s drawl is deceptively flippant.

“I think so.” Jude answers calmly. “For instance, we’ve figured out that you were involved in and likely the mastermind behind a counterfeiting operation that raked in a substantial amount of money. You provided the last ingredient needed, the ink from your tattoo parlour stocks that was used to print on the bills.”

Cardan leans forward. “We’ve also surmised that you killed your partners in said operation; Taryn Santorini and Chloe Tatterfell, both of whom you met through your tattoo parlour, just like you said.”

“And our third victim, Locke McCutchins? Yeah, we know he was your cousin, once removed on your mother’s side wasn’t it? A distant enough relationship for you to not be flagged when checking his family, but close enough for you to enlist him in your scheme so you had access to vending machine bills.” Jude continues, she and Cardan having perfected the art of interrogating together ages ago, their tactics working smoothly together alongside each other. 

Vivienne sneers. “So what? You have no proof.”

“On the contrary, ma’am, we do. You neglected to hide the metal plates that you got Taryn to make for you in a place that wasn’t under a loose floorboard of your room, easily found with the aid of a search warrant.” Cardan smiles.

“You also tripped up when you stored your used gun with matching ballistics to the weapon that killed our victims in the same place as the plates.” Cardan’s smile is copied on Jude’s face.

Vivi’s skin pales and her cat’s eyes narrow into slits as she bangs the table, hard, before slouching back in the metal chair, the fight leaving her.

“Well, I suppose the jig is up, as they say,” she drawls.

Satisfied, Jude stands up and gathers the notepad and pen that she’d left on the desk and then bends over the interrogation table to meet Vivi’s gaze.

“What I can’t understand, though, is why? Why would you kill them if you’d already paid them?”

The Accused smirks. “It was all that idiot Lockes’s fault. He’d gotten himself into debt with some mob shark and needed more dough to bail his sorry self out. I wasn’t about to give it, he had his cut and that was all. But then, he threatened to go to the cops and tell them about what we did. Couldn’t let that happen, so I figured I’d kill ‘em all of. Just to be safe.”

The casual way in which she speaks of her deeds chills Jude to the bone. Wordlessly, she turns her back on yet another cold hearted murderer and exits the room with Cardan right behind her.

They come to a stop in front of the now empty murderboard, its surface shiny and white, devoid of words, but not for long. There was always a murder happening somewhere or the other, Jude had been a detective long enough to know that.

“So, now that Vivienne Insmire, tattoo artist, mastermind and ink supplier of counterfeiting operations and killer of ‘friends’ and distant male cousins is safely behind bars, I think you and I have a certain matter to settle, Duarte.”

She’d been trying hard to avoid this moment all day, pushing back thoughts of her close defeat and what its consequences would be. It seemed like now, she'd run out of time. She gulps.

“I suppose-” she almost can’t bring herself to say the words, “I suppose you won our bet, then.”

“Yup.” He’s not even trying to hide his gloating, “and you know what that means.”

The noise she emits is one that is resigned. She knows what’s coming.

“I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow.”

“Or I could just take a ca-”

“Don’t be late, Duarte,” he calls over his shoulder as he leisurely strolls towards the precinct exit, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulder.

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

If you’ve made it all the way down here, congrats! Here’s a link for part 2.

Tagging the lovely people on my short but treasured TFOTA taglist; @cupcakesandkittens​ (who helped immensely during the writing of this fic and who suggested adding in the interrogation scene❤) and my very own talented Secret Snusband, @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​

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

[the-chick-of-the-air]

Meet Me In The Woods

Summary: Jude and Cardan’s first meeting as children. One shot. Rated G

Jude was running as quickly as her short legs could carry her through the strange and terrifying fields and wooded areas of this weird place- Efham? What had that mean green monster called it again? She didn’t care, all she knew was she wanted out and back home, back to her mother and father-

But they were no more. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She missed them so much but couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that they were gone. She felt that if she ran fast and far enough away, she could run right back into her mother’s arms.

She hadn’t stuck around long enough to listen to the pretty lady with shiny hair tell them about this place. As soon as…Maddy? Maden? What was that monster’s name? As soon as he had ushered them off the strange ponies and into the big house, Jude immediately began searching for a way out. She herd something about princes and princesses and how they shouldn’t eat anything offered to them, but after that she had split.

She would go back for Vivi and Taryn once she found a way out. Then they could go back home and…well, they would figure the rest out later...

Meanwhile, a young, dark haired prince was fleeing from a murder scene.

Cardan was running as fast as he could through the grasslands of his home and into the wooded area near Hollow Hall. Dain had murdered a mortal and was going to blame it on him. His father would never listen. Even if they couldn’t lie, Dain had orchestrated it in such a way that he could say Cardan’s arrow had embedded itself into that human. He wouldn’t even be able to say the words “It wasn’t me!” before his father cast some punishment upon him.

So he ran.

Like a coward.

A relatively safe coward, though.

He wasn’t sure what he would do, where he would go. His mother had vanished and his father must have hated him, his siblings couldn’t care less whether he lived or died. He wasn’t exactly safe anywhere, even as a prince.

He just needed to get somewhere he could stop and think. Somewhere he could calm down enough to garner the courage needed to face his cruel family. Somewhere-

His thought process was brutally cut off as he collided with someone coming from the opposite direction. There was enough force behind the action that they were both sent sprawling to the ground in heaps of breathless fabric and tense muscles.

He would have told off whoever dare run into a prince of Elfhame, but he was panting and crying, and he had just been framed for a murder he didn’t commit and he really didn’t feel like throwing up that cruel front he used to get attention. He just wanted a break.

Jude lay, stunned, on the ground, trying to catch her breath as she gazed up at the star-dotted sky through tear filled eyes. Of course this would happen. Of course someone would interrupt her great escape. As if the fear of trying to run at all wasn’t bad enough in the first place, now she had to fear being dragged back to that horrible house, kicking and screaming. That monster killed her parents, she dreaded to think what he would do to her if she made him mad.

Sniffling brought her attention to the present. She hadn’t even thought to look at who she’d run into- just immediately assumed it was one of the big scary… things she saw around the house, sent to come take her back. But she was surprised when she sat up and was met with the sight of a boy, not much older then her, sitting there with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Jude’s first instinct was to get up and start running again, this boy scared her. He didn’t look like her, or any of the other kids she’d seen when she went to school. He had dark hair and darker eyes. Pointy ears- just like Vivi’s- and…was that a tail? What was this place?

The boy wiped the tears from his pale cheeks with a fist before regarding her with curiosity.

For some reason, Jude felt the need to stay seated. He was crying too. Maybe the fall had hurt him? Or maybe he was running too.

Cardan had finally turned to his assailant, only to find it was no assassin. It was another child. A mortal child. Cardan felt like he was going to be sick.

He noted, as he wiped his tears away that she was also crying. Had she been hurt when they collided? Her hair was shiny and full, and she looked completely aware of her surroundings. Maybe she had been glamoured and woke up somehow? If that was the case, then she needed to get back to her station before she was found and…

There was that sick feeling again.

Jude opened her mouth, intending to say something, anything, to get her out of this strange creature’s sights and back on the run.

She did not expect the first thing out of her mouth to be, “I won’t eat anything.”

The boy looked a bit stunned at this. He titled his head. Obviously that wasn’t what he expected her to say either.

Or maybe he didn’t speak English? Jude tried again.

“I said,” she started, drawing out the words so he would understand, “I. Won’t. Eat. Anything. You. Give. Me.” For some reason that’s what stuck with her out of the pretty lady’s welcome speech.

Cardan rose an eyebrow, why was she speaking like that? “I heard you the first time.”

Jude started. Oh. So he did understand. He sounded funny though, that same strange way of talking that monster and the pretty lady at the house had. It just made Jude want to cry more. Nothing was normal here.

“Who are you?” Cardan asked when she stayed silent.

Jude sniffed and raised her chin, “Jude Duarte.”

Well he had never heard of the name Duarte before. And she obviously wasn’t faerie. If her looks hadn’t already given that away, then her total willingness to give up full name would have.

She shocked him when she asked, “Who are you?” didn’t she know that already?

Cardan scowled, that now familiar instinct to block everyone out with hate flaring up again, “Cardan Greenbriar. Prince of Elfhame.”

Jude shook her head, completely ignoring his tone, “This place is weird.”

Affronted, Cardan barked the first thing that popped up in his head, “You’re weird.”

“No you are!” she shot back with a glare, “Everyone here is. That monster has green skin and that lady had white hair, and you have a tail and pointy ears like my sister.” She took a breath, “Everyone looks so scary.” She gripped her knees and drew them into her chest. She wanted to block out everything that was scaring her right now.

Cardan could agree with that at least. The folk were either beautiful or ugly. No in between. No ordinary, not like the girl in front of him.

Jude.

The name sounded strange, sounded mortal. He supposed he must have sounded strange to her. He sighed and said, “Yes, it can be.” He thought of Balekin and his evil grins. Of Dain and his wicked ways. Of his own father and the inability to love him like he loved his siblings. Even of General Madoc, always wearing a blood-drenched cap to important meetings. For the mortal’s sake, he hoped she never had to meet him.

Jude sniffed again, “Why…why were you crying?”

Cardan stiffened. He couldn’t tell her. It was complicated and bloody, and she looked really scared. No need to further petrify her. He shook his head, “Doesn’t matter. What about you?”

Jude had no qualms about dishing out what had happened, “The green monster killed my mom and dad. Then he took me and my sisters here. I was trying to go back.”

Green monster? Cardan assumed she was talking about one of the Goblin-Folk. Maybe a redcap…there was no way…

Before he could ask if it was Madoc that stole her, someone was calling out from the woods.

“Jude! Where did you go?”

Jude sighed, “That’s Vivi.” She stood and sent him one last glare, “Don’t tell anyone you saw me here.”

And then she was off, running towards whoever Vivi was. Cardan balked, who was this harebrained mortal to tell him what to do?

He growled and stood, noting that his tail was twitching nervously. Thinking of Jude’s mortification with the thing, and his own inability to hide his true emotions when it was out, he pouted and tucked it into his breeches.

He wasn’t sure what else to do. Nothing he did would convince his father that he had never and would never hurt a mortal. The only thing he could do was face his punishment with the grace of a prince. Rolling his small shoulders, he turned back to the palace and disappeared into the night.

~.~

The next day a revel was held as per usual. Cardan was forced to attend, even though he would much rather be up in his room studying or packing. After he had gotten back to the palace, his father had been unhappy with him. Predictably, he hadn’t listened to a word Cardan had to say and simply told him to prepare his things for packing. He would be moving to Hollow Hall with Balekin to be taught how to behave as a proper prince. Though he would still be attending school with the other Gentry.

Now, here he was, being forced to put on a fake smile as if to say “Don’t worry! Everything is fine within the royal family. You can completely trust our judgment on everything!” his only source of comfort- no matter how minor- were his friends. Nicasia was staying above water to uphold peace between the Undersea and Elfhame land. Valerian had no one better to spend his time with and Locke was always in the mood for fun. Despite his usual meddling, he could get Cardan to lighten up every so often.

Cardan stood at the dais with his family whilst guests were introduced. The young prince had little interest in this until General Madoc stepped forward.

With three young girls in tow.

As though they had been trained overnight, the three bowed alongside Madoc before straightening and going back to staring around in wonder.

Cardan locked eyes with Jude Duarte.

Or at least, he thought it was Jude. Next to her was an exact copy, the two girls were completely identical. Twins, Cardan recalled the term. Extremely rare in faerie, but still possible. Still, seeing it up close was strange. He absently wondered if it was like being two halves of one person, or the same person but doubled.

“General.” Eldred regarded Madoc, “I see you have brought company.”

Madoc nodded, “My daughters. Once hidden away in the mortal realm with their mother. Now where they belong.”

“One of them, at least.” The High King stated, eyeing the one that wasn’t a twin. Vivi, Cardan remembered Jude calling her.

She glared back and Cardan mused that he liked her. Liked Jude as well, if he were being honest- which he had no choice in being.

Madoc nodded solemnly, “My wife was… unfaithful. We thought she had died with my unborn child nine years ago in the estate fire. I recently found out she had in fact staged her death and escaped to the mortal realm with her new lover. Justin. The blacksmith if you recall?”

Eldred nodded, following along with the interesting tale. Cardan’s curiosity was piqued as well.

“They had offspring,” He gestured to the twins, “Taryn and Jude. When I found my wife, I… righted matters.”

“You killed them.” Vivi cut in, her tone like acid. Madoc winced.

“I knew the children could not be without a home, so I have taken them in. I plead they take their rightful place among the Gentry, and be granted the right to an education here in the palace alongside the other children.”

The High King nodded, not willing to reject a request from his general so simple as this. “Of course, they will train right alongside my own son, Cardan. The youngest of his siblings and still in school.” He waved the prince forward and Cardan had to comply.

“Say hello.” Eldred ordered, masking it with a light tone. Cardan inwardly cringed. This was meant to disgrace him, putting him on display in front of the General’s bastard offspring. He locked eyes with who he hopped was Jude (He was probably right, he got an icy glare in return) and nodded his head.

“Hello.”

Eldred smiled and removed the hand he had placed on Cardan’s shoulder, “I hope you’ll get along. Now please, enjoy the festivities.”

Madoc nodded and turned from the royal family, ushering the three girls along. Jude sent a glare back at them. She hated it here and no amount of nice words would change that.

Cardan watched them go with a strange feeling setting into his chest, not quite sadness…loneliness, maybe? Perhaps in a different world, they could have all been friends.

As they mixed with the crowd, a single name rang through the young prince’s head to a curious little melody.

Jude.

~.~

Years later, the High King and High Queen lay together under a large tree.

Cardan gently ran his fingers through his wife’s full and shiny hair. Quietly he asked, “Do you know what’s special about this place, love?”

Jude pretended to think about it, placing her fingers to her chin in mock thought, “Hmm…this is where our favorite type of flower grows best?” She giggled as her husband tugged a lock of her hair. After a moment she whispered against his chest, “Of course I remember. It’s where I met my greatest enemy!”

Cardan stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. She was playing dirty now…

Swiftly, Jude kissed the pout away. When she pulled back, she traced the fine point of his ear, saying, “It’s where I first met the love of my life.”

Let me know what you guys think!

Tag list:

(Please let me know if you would like to be added to my tag list!)

@woodsbeyond1 @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @thewickedkings @aneurwin @snusbandxknifewife @jurdanhell @andromeddea @dressedindustandshadows @thesirenwashere

[clockworkgraystairs]

KEEP IT DOWN || Jurdan - Hogwarts AU

Written super super late for Jurdan Week 2020 by @jurdannet​ Sorry for the delay!!

Crossover Day || Harry Potter  

Prompt submited by @mysweetvilllain​

Rating: M

Summary: Quidditch day was no normal day at Hogwarts. And Ravenclaw’s head boy, Cardan Greenbriar, knew it very well. 

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover​ @aesthetics-11​ @thesirenwashere​ @hizqueen4life​ @duarteegreenbriar​ @judexcardanxgreenbriar​ @nite0wl29​ @althekingshorses​ @thewickedkings​ @b00kworm​ (if you wish to be tagged or untagged [or if my dumb brain forgot to tag u] just let me know!)

My masterlist

Hogwarts was always a battlefield on a quidditch day, and today was not the exception. Not in the final game of their Championship. So far, Cardan had broke up two discussions and dissolved a duel challenge between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin.

To be honest, he would have prefered to stay back in his dorms. His book about Asian Myths and History was way more interesting than keeping the students safe. Specially from themselves. But as Head Boy, there was little he could do against it. 

That evening Slytherin had won the match, and boy had it been a hot-blooded one. Brooms had flown through the rain at unimaginable speed. The seekers, entwined in a fierce battle for the golden snitch, almost crashing with each other on several occasions. If his memory was correct, at least three players had fell from their brooms either from crashing or bludgers. The crowd’s roar almost left him deaf when Slytherin’s seeker finally closed her fingers around the snitch. When she’d flown down and paraded it around, the noise became even worse. Her chestnut hair had come loose at some point of the match, and mixed with her smudged eyeliner she gave a feral image that send tickles down his spine.

Back in the castle, he could see silver and green flags everywhere. People ran and cheered. Only Gryffindors and some others walked back to their dorms in silence, or anger, he couldn’t say. Ten points from the Hufflepuff boy who tried to hide the bottle of alcohol in his robe. With a sigh, he pulled out his wand and vanished the whiskey back to the kitchen’s shelves.

After another two hours of prowling around, he decided to call it for the day.

Cardan had almost made it to the stairs when a loud commotion snapped his attention back to the Great Hall. He peered inside, more than ready to continue with the points slaughter. That’s when he saw her again.

Jude Duarte. Slytherin’s captain and seeker. Crowned a legend after today’s victory. Her strategy abilities had made her team practically invincible. She sat on top of one of the tables, surrounded by the rest of the team and a few more students. Her damp her already starting to curl again. Apparently the party wasn’t over for everyone just yet.

Cackles died gradually as he approached them. All eyes turning to him. 

“Hello there, Ravenclaw. Are you lost?” He could practically feel her purr on his stomach, her gaze trailing down his body. A girl named Lilliver snickered from her seat.

“Oh, not at all.” He shrugged. “But you’re being quite loud, and I must ask you to keep it down.”

Jude slid down the table and stood in front of him, a cheeky smirk playing on the corner of her lips. “That’s a little rude, Head Boy, why don’t you join us and forget about noise rules for a while? We’re celebrating.”

“I can see that, and I appreciate the offer.” He conceded. “But as it is my duty, I insist, unless you’re looking to make your house lose some points. I suggest you go back to your dorms. Have a pleasant night.”

That said, he flashed her a polite smile, turned back to the Hall’s entrance and left, vaguely hearing several scoffs dancing along the group.

~

When Jude Duarte left the Slytherin dorm it was already past midnight. At last, the rest of the team had fallen asleep along the living room. She didn’t feel tired though, with the rush from the game still in her veins keeping her wide awake. 

Some nights, she enjoyed going out after curfew to take a stroll. There was something uncanny relaxing about it. No one rushing between classes, no one she needed to talk about quidditch or the usual nonsense people usually asked. Just silence. 

By the end of the corridor, she stopped in front of the now familiar room. Jude glanced around her once, making sure there weren’t any curious eyes and went in.

Jude suspected the chamber was an old meetings office that no one used anymore. Since the first time she’d found it, the same squared table rested in the middle, surrounded by three or four chairs. An old settee, and a mostly empty bookcase filled the rest of the small space. Nothing seemed different tonight. 

The dim moonlight coming from outside was the only thing that allow her to see around. 

She’d almost reached the settee, when something slither behind her. She spun around, reaching for her wand with all the agility she’d learned from duel trainings. 

Jude knew it was too late when she heard a husky voice whispering. “Incarcerous.”

She gasped as her arms folded behind her back. A scratchy rope securing them.  

In less than a second, she was pressed back against his hard body. One of his arms snaked around her waist, the other one buried on her hair and arching her neck, granting him access.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” Cardan mumbled, spreading hot kisses down her throat. When he reached the base he sucked a little, sending hot streams down her veins. 

“Well you’ll find out that it’s quite difficult to get rid of a bunch of people who are high on adrenaline.” She pointed out, leaning her head back to his shoulder. “I might have slipped a few sleeping pills in their juice.” 

“You tricky witch.” He pressed harder against her backside. Letting her feel the effect she had on his body. Without being able to stop it, a breathy whimper left her lips. “Seems to me that I’ll have to take some of Slytherin’s points after all.”

“Don’t you dare.” She hissed, struggling inefficiently against the ropes. 

He just chuckled. His wicked hands now roamed under her Slytherin green hoodie, leaving goosebumps on her bare skin. “You might be captain on the field love, but you should realize you’re not the one in control here.”

In a swift movement, he turned her around and pulled the hoodie over Jude’s head, leaving it hanging from her tied arms. The fresh air made her shudder, she could feel her nipples hardening under her crop top. Before she could say anything else, Cardan crashed their lips together, his kiss fierce, tugging at her lower lip in a clear message. Mine. 

Jude didn’t realize he’d been moving them backwards until she bumped with the table. He helped her sat on top of it, settling between her thighs, grinding their bodies together.

She broke the kiss for a moment, breathing against his mouth. “You’re going to be in so much trouble when I’m off this ropes.” 

“Am I?” With no so gentle hands, he pushed her back against the table, his mouth curled in a predatory grin. “But you’re not now, are you?” 

Without her arms to help her up, Jude just glared at him. She realized how ragged her heartbeat was. The way he looked at her send a pulse through her core. Her bound arms twisted again, looking for a way out, but the rope didn’t waver. She could do nothing but lay there, at his mercy while he peeled her pants from her. 

No answer from her was expected, Cardan’s low chuckle floated in the room. “I thought so.”

He leaned and barely grazed her lips, pulling back when she tried to capture them and slid down her body. Leaving trails with his lips on her jaw, the base of her throat, the swell of her breasts. He lingered a moment on her nipples, circling them over her top with his tongue. Jude’s breath came out in shuddering whimpers, her body writhed below him trying to get some friction. Cardan took his lips lower, along her well toned torso. Her hips twitched as he found a sensitive spot next to her dagger tattoo, and sucked on it. 

At some point her knickers came off too. She swore at the feeling of Cardan’s teeth nibbling her inner thighs. He made a disapproving sound with his tongue. “From this moment Jude, for every sound leaving your lips, I’m going to take a point from your house. Am I clear?” 

Jude stared at him wide eyed, angrily biting her lip to avoid spilling all the curses that danced in her mind. He knew how seriously Slytherins took winning. Everything. The House Cup one of the most desired prizes. Fuck he knew how to play her. 

Without breaking eye contact he leaned down again, positioning himself barely centimeters away from her center. Something between dark and amused tainted his features.

“Congratulations on winning your game baby.” At that he closed the distance to her aching folds, tasting them with a long, ravening lick.

The last coherent thought on her mind was how lucky they were that she’d cast a silencing charm on the room when she arrived.

The House Cup could very well rot in hell.

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I was really really excited to do this since it’s the first crossover i’ve ever written. 

I’m not planning any particular story with this, buuut I’m not against writing more of this AU if I ever see (or any of you send) prompts that could fit *wink*

I hope you like it!! 

As a little extra, and since I’m becoming obsessed with doing this things, here are a couple of aesthetics for Slytherin!Jude and Ravenclaw!Cardan, just because I think they’re cute.

ciao!

[visd3stele]

Oak and the throne

summary:

TW: none

A/N: I always hoped Jude and Cardan would keep the throne, so I'm glad Oak likes the mortal world so much :)

Next one should be up by thirsday

Thank you so much for the request, hope it's what you expected. xoxo

@britishbookworm2 requested here

masterlist

"Oak! Come back here," Jude's voice carried through the palace. Despite years of dealing with stubborn faes in the council, eliciting orders to soldiers and servants alike and talking down to her subjects as Cardan does, her voice was steady, even and almost sweet as she yelled after her little brother.

Little brother. The thought seemed out of place. In his years in the mortal world, Oak had a growth spurt, while she remained the same. Young, not yen an adult, yet passed through much more than her elders could claim to.

"No!" Oak shouted back, though he stopped in the middle of the throne room. "No," and he turned back to Jude, walking fast with his now bigger, stronger goat legs. "You promised me I won't have to take over if I don't want to. Well, guess what, Jude? I don't!"

He didn't tower over her like she expected. His bent knees cutting from his height. But Oak, the boy she used to lean down to hug and kiss on top of his horned head, still stood taller than her at the throne's dais.

"You should have taken it in writing, little brother." Cardan chimed in, bemused. A glare from his wife shut him up, though still smirking, and the High King opened a second bottle of wine.

"Oak," Jude begin again. "I know it's not ideal. When all this started, you were so young. I get it's a little scary and overwhelming. But it's your birthright..."

"It's Cardan's birthright too." Oak protested, crossing his arms over his chest after pointing a hand towards the King sitting on the throne's dais. His tail bounced left and right in amusement as he raised the bottle towards his half brother and gulped down a mouthful of wine.

"Speaking of Cardan," Jude seized the opportunity, "he didn't want to be High King either. But he got used to it. He came to like it. Tell him, oh, dear husband." The look the High Queen gave her lover contradicted her words, for nothing short of a clear threat shone in her eyes. The fae just smiled to himself, used to his wife's antics. He made a show of getting up on his feet, taking a few steps forward with his normal care free elegancy, when Oak's words stopped him.

"If he likes it that much, why can't Cardan still be King? I thought you liked to be Queen, too, Jude. Don't you?"

Both the warrior mortal and the peaceful fae stood glued in their places. Perplexed. Twenty years ago, when she started her ascension to the throne, Jude did so with only one purpose in mind: put that crown on Oak's head. Every decision she made, each plotting and scheming should have led to the celebration of High King Oak of Greenbriar line. Didn't it?

Now that she thought about it, things changed. Jude couldn't say when or how exactly. But at some point between then and now, she started to see herself as the real queen. High Queen in her right, not just a replacement until Oak is old enough.

Maybe it was when she choose to love Cardan and he made her his equal by splitting the throne in two ostentatious ones right in the middle of the room. Maybe it was when the Court of Shadows gifted her the title as a nickname. Jude wouldn't admit even to herself how much though she'd given to that afterwards. Or maybe it was recently, in the years after breaking Cardan's curse. Years spent ruling together, bringing up a better Elfhame than either of them grew up in.

As for Cardan, the High King's eyes darted to the crown, fingers itching to pick it up and place it atop his head. To give it a light push so it'd lean on one side, but never falling. As if it clinged to him. As if it chose him.

It's true, the youngest prince - as he thought himself for so long - never craved the throne. Why would he? He was the least favorite child, not good enough to deserve their father's attention. His mother's love. So how could he be a good king? But after Jude tricked him and all Elfhame bowed to him, looked up to him, something shift inside him. Cardan actually enjoyed the process of thinking through a court scheme. The insides of a carefully given order - a pawn in a bigger game. He found it entertaining to search ways to deal with the council, to make them bow to his whims. And when he married Jude and those whims matured into interests, well, building a kingdom of dreams none he or his wife dared to ever hope for, leaving such a legacy behind, he, Cardan Greenbriar, the pitiful prince, it felt right.

"You don't wish to rule, Oak?" Cardan asked, more concern than he ever spoke with lacing his voice.

"No! Never did, never will."

Jude could recognize a bit of Vivi in the way Oak said it, rolling his eyes and putting accent on certain vowels. But Vivi insisted it wasn't unusual in the mortal world, humans using this sort of speech all the time. Thinking about it, seeing her little brother clear for the first time she summoned him in Fairyland, Jude realized Oak would look out of place in fae's clothes. The green hoodie he wore and dark grey jeans fitted him perfectly.

"But would you be alright there? Hiding your real self, your magic?"

"I'm not hiding, Jude," Oak's voice softened. His big sister didn't want to ruin his life. She was looking after him, his happiness in the only way she knew how. The Fae way. "I mean, yes, people see what I want them to, what with the glamour and all. But it doesn't mean I don't get to be myself. I go to college, you know? Herbologist," he chuckled to himself. "I like it. I have friends, and... and one day, when I'll meet my Heather, then I'll skip to telling her the truth and... I don't know what then, but it'll be fine. I'll be fine, Jude. I promise."

It took several minutes for Jude to reply. She eyed Oak the entire time, her mind swerling, trying to keep up with the speed of her thoughts. Eventually, she saw his truth, just like when she faced hers own: she wouldn't fit in the mortal world, she loved Cardan, she was the High Queen. And Oak? Oak would make a great herbologist - whatever that was - because he doesn't fit in Elfhame anymore. And she won't be the one to crush him or his hopes.

She nodded her head, Cardan's cue to drop a silly, drunk-like, huge smile and take the crowns in his hands.

"Promise you'll visit, though."

It was Oak's turn to nod, a grin pulling his lips upward. "Of course. I can stay for dinner, if you promise not to offer me a court or something."

Jude laughed. "I think we can do that." She turned to her husband, who hummed distracted and tucked a loose strand behind her year, putting extra effort in to trace the soft, round edge of it with his fingers. Cardan, then, crowned her, tilting his head. To no one's surprise his own tolkien of kinghood didn't fell, despite its crooked position.

"Unless a gift is required by tradition, brother dearest," Cardan said, "fret not. You'll be seeing nothing from us." And without waiting to see if Oak is following, he spooned his wife, his queen, in his arms, leading her to the dining table. All the way there, the king peppered his heart's chosen one with kisses, whispering promising for the night. Silk words about a royal celebration in their suit and implications of a new heir to the throne, now that the one they'd planned for decided to go to a mortal college and stay there.

Oak smiled. Truthfully and heartfully. No, he won't be High King. But he felt like he owned the whole world hours later, when he got back to his dorm and picked up his pen to write some notes on next friday's homework.

[ashen-vulture]

RPG story time/Pictures

So I am a gamemaster for a pathfinder group that’s been my reliable RPG gang for years. I wanted to make this as like a small gallery of pictures I’ve drawn for my most recent game, titled Red Gold.

As per usual it’s a long one, so I’ll put the bulk of things under the cut:

It was a simple RPG starting point, everyone was bounty hunters in a prestigious organization called the Hall of Red Gold. They deal with prison escapes, grave robbers, train robbers, necromancers, dangerous animals/creatures, and all other sort of variety of unlawful or evilness.

The founders of the Hall of Red Gold, they had a large painting made of a much smaller photograph taken just before their last battle.

Their center organization is in one of the largest cities in the country (population over 1.5 million) called Mkali (top picture) specifically that’s an area called the Canal Promenade. The canal serves to water their fields, prevent disastrous flooding, and allow for steamboat traffic and it’s a huge and central fixture. It’s almost always filled with merchant cards and street performers, and the city itself is brightly painted.

Their first quest was to cull a pride of man-eating lions and collect the tails for bounty proof. Through their Lion encounters they ended up with multiple critical decapitations. So they cut off the heads, cut off the tails, and quickly solidified their name:

Heads and Tails

They’ve come so far since then. They’ve made NPC allies in their organization, several of whom traveled with the party until they started taking on quests that were just too dangerous for them.

Their first companions were a goblin bard who mostly went by his stage name: Corpsebeater, and a Alchemist Halfling half-fiend who was *mistakenly* rescued from a demon cult under the assumption that she was a 5 year old tiefling. Both of them wonderful companions now retired. Corpsebeater changed his bard name to Venomblood after surviving a dozen scopion stings. He retired from the group shortly after that, but continues to build percussive music to shout exploits to. And for Zippi, after her time experimenting on the party (and herself) she got accepted as an apprentice in a shop called The Basilisk’s Eye.

The way I did it is Red Gold has a number of NPCs who can be invited along, and I’ve made it fairly easy for characters to flow in and out of the party without changing the game up too much. When VB retired Zippi stuck around just long enough to nearly die (she was like 2-3 levels behind the party at that point) and the party had some downtime, enough downtime to get up to a Fun Side Non-Bounty Related Thing.

Performing in the COLOSSEUM OF COURAGE! A temple to a minotaur/cervine god of battle and martial prowess. It trains warriors and also hold grand events in the tradition of old colosseums as a way of generating money. And this temple is run by the Grand Paladin RHEMBOL IRONHIDE!

The number of PCs I expected to hit on Rhembol was 2 higher than the 0 I thought it would be I could not stop snickering to myself I make this big old banged up greyed minotaur but he’s just got so much personality that everyone loved him. And of course he was glad to have Red Gold Participate in THE GRAND MASTER’S MAZE RUN! (Sorry, he is inflicted with SPONTANEOUSLY PROJECTING STAGE VOICE! meaning when I think in his headspace sometimes YOU JUST GOTTA ALLCAPS IT!)

But there was one little condition. You see, Rhembol has four wonderful lovely daughters that he would give the world for, three of whom are mostly like him: charismatic, gregarious, boisterous, always up for a fight but not looking for conflict.

And then, there’s...

Chesvah Ironhide, his awkward, unsociable, perpetually on auto-pilot daughter. She doesn’t like the performative aspect of her father’s temple, never has, but has never known anything other than Be A Paladin/Performer. So Rhembol spoke with Red Gold and allowed their teams into the games if Red Gold agreed to hire his daughter.

She joined a group that had formed just to compete in the games with plans to dissolve afterwards- and boy did they.

The 6-person team she was a part of contained a lot of other NPCs the party could bring into Heads and Tails, but only one of them is relevant- that being Tulio. Tulio is a catfolk who is a crack shot with a rifle, but also a LOT of other problems. He was almost always some variant of high, and showed many concerning behaviors. Red Gold kept him around because of his skill...

But, when in a drugged stupor he opened friendly fire in the colosseum with a crowd of tens of thousands in the audience, Red Gold had had the last of it with him and he was kicked out.

The party picked Chesvah up shortly afterwards.

And they probably didn’t expect Tulio to ever come back.

And certainly for a while he didn’t. Things ramped up, the party had been tasked with wiping out a Lamashtan cult, their leader Jiyaki who was a very prolific murderer, and stopping them from whatever their mysterious and bloody Goal was.

Pictured above is not the cult leader, but a demon bound to her service by another caster, and perpetual game wildcard. A powerful concubus who goes by the name of Kel. Yes, the same two members of the party did hit on them, successfully (depending on your definition of success here). Kel repeatedly showed no interest in obeying their master’s wishes, especially if they got in the way of fun, but its soul-bound sword “Shiver” had a number of contingencies in place to ensure Kel’s behavior.

Around this time they also were contacted by a blue dragon. You see, the last time they were investigating this, they had been told it was bandits, not a cult they were after. It was an inside-attempt to throw potential bounty hunters off their trail.

When they investigated the city one of the things that stood out was that there had been a break-in at a greenhouse called the Greenbriar Reserve. Upon investigating, Heads and Tails comes to the discovery that the Greenbriar Reserve had a dragonsbane plant. Dragons have been known to raize entire cities or countrysides over even a HINT of dragonsbane, because it is one of the few things that challenge their supremacy, and this greenhouse in a massive, populous city just happened to have one. The owner of the reserve kept it secret- for obvious reasons- and didn’t even state the name of the plant or 100% confirm he had one to the party. Hints and innuendo and nothing more. But he did ask them to please keep looking for the snip of plant which was taken- and his missing daughter as well (Kel kidnapped her and many others to use their faces for infiltration)

And then a blue dragon arrived at Red Gold HQ. Hushand the Gardener.

It had been over a month and he wanted to know how they were doing at finding HIS dragonsbane plant.

Because you see, he was working on a cure.

More and more things pile up on this city, culminating in a huge battle.

Someone pulled many strings to create what could have been (and honestly still was) a disastrous chain of events which involved red dragons attacking the city, Hushand the Gardener coming to the city’s defense. And there being two active shooters in the crowd with dragonbane poisoned weapons.

And one of those shooters was

Tulio swift, former Red Gold member, suspected veteran of the 27 year long surriedan civil war, habitual drinker and drug user and over all fringe NPC to the game. 

In the heat of battle one of the PCs killed Tulio- but with the intent of getting him raised afterwards, to interesting effects.

Meanwhile under the cover of the military battles above, the party begins fighting the demon cult in the secret vaults below the city. Down below in the vaults where they had learned a lamashtan Artifact lies which turns sacrificed souls into conduits for summoning powerful demons.

And I’ll continue this when I get back from a walk. I’ve got more to add, but this has gotten long enough as it is.