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court-of-forever-undone · 9 months ago

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Something Precious | Jurdan Baby Fic

Chapter Two

Summary : After three years of exile, Cardan is determined to bring Jude back home with him. When he arrives, the last thing he expects to find is a dark-haired toddler looking up at him.

Tags: Jurdan baby, Jude’s exile, Dad!Cardan

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Cardan made good on his promise to assign more guards. They kept their distance, but Jude noted their presence. At first, it was bothersome, but with the reminder of how dangerous it could be for a king’s heir, it was nice to have additional eyes watching out for Everly. At least she no longer had to worry about hiding her from Cardan.

Jude had replayed the entire conversation over and over in her head, trying to find any hint of a trick. But Cardan’s words left very little room for interpretation. There was still the matter of ruling together and returning to Elfhame, something she would deal with later.

A week after Cardan’s unexpected visit, a number of packages with various faerie children’s toys, beautiful clothing, and food arrived on their front porch. Most of the presents were for Everly, but Jude found several boxes with her name on them too, including a new sword. The hilt was exquisitely decorated with tiny rubies, and the guard was made of golden twin snakes. After testing it out during one of Everly’s naps, Jude found the balance was equally extraordinary to the design. Beautiful gifts were not going to sway her decision to return, but she could appreciate them. At the very least, she could consider it child support and reparations for her loss of station after being exiled.

A third week passed before Cardan sent a letter requesting to visit again. Jude considered the request. If she refused, Cardan could always show up anyway. It would be easier just to say yes, and truthfully, the little enjoyment she had found in her mundane human experience had dimmed since being granted an opportunity to go home. Grief that had subsided after so long ago came back and pitted in Jude’s stomach. If it were only her, she would have returned back with Cardan the night he showed up. She would have faced whatever difficulties that came with returning as they arose.

Her sweet child changed everything, though. Jude had lived a childhood in Faerie, and it had been filled with too many close calls. Whether motivated by hatred, politics, or on a simple whim, the fae were ruthless. Vivi pointed out that Everly was half-faerie and, on top of that, would be a princess; she surely wouldn’t be as vulnerable as Taryn and Jude had been. Oak had nodded in agreement when she brought her dilemma to them. However, neither of them were present every time she had witnessed attempts on Cardan’s life in just a single year.

It was a battle between what she wanted and what she knew was best. A worrisome mother against the calculated crown’s strategist. Two roles that were entirely foreign to her just a few years prior, but both so ingrained in her personality now, that it was hard to separate the two. Jude didn’t want to make her final decision just yet. So, for now, she was content to let Cardan visit and see how their daughter would take to him a second time.

Three days after she sent the letter, Cardan arrived around dawn, impeccably dressed but not entirely inconspicuous in his royal tunic and pants. By all accounts, he should look exhausted, given that it was well past sleeping hours in Elfhame. Yet, he greeted Jude at the door with a soft smile and another armful of gifts.

“Err.. Good morning.”

The tension between them was palpable. Enemies. Schemers. Lovers. Husband and Wife. They had been all of those things. After years of silence, they were … co-parenting?

Jude set the boxes down and led Cardan down the hall to the nursery. As they entered the room, Everly, awake and wearing her purple and black striped onesie, beamed up at them. She reached over to the bars and hauled herself up into a standing position.

“Mumma!”

“Hello, little one,” Jude cooed. She scooped the squirming child from the crib and held her out to Cardan, without second-guessing herself. He fumbled for a second as if he had been expecting only to watch, but quickly regained his composure and held her securely.

“Hi! Hi!” The child chanted over and over, excited to see another face during the morning routine. Jude stood back and watched the look on his face, similar to the one when he first held her. It was impossible to pinpoint the exact emotion he was feeling, but he clearly wanted to be there. Cardan rocked her gently as she babbled some and then used her chubby little hand to pull on his curls again. The third yank was hard enough to jerk his head, but Cardan only laughed and twisted his hair out of her hand before opening his palm to reveal seeds in his hands.

“Would you like to see a trick?” He asked. Slowly, the seeds began to bloom into vibrant wildflowers with an unnaturally strong perfume. The child’s eyes opened wide with amazement; her full attention turned to the magic at Cardan’s fingertips. His focus, however, remained on the child, taking in every detail.

“Fwowers!” Everly said, reaching to touch them. Cardan repeated the trick once more before Jude gestured for Cardan to follow her into the kitchen. She grabbed ingredients from the fridge and cupboard and laid them all out on the counter. Cardan, with Everly still in his arms, took a seat on the barstool across from her. She began preparing breakfast, taking extra care to cut the fruit into bite-sized pieces. Cardan, who never cooked a meal in his life, nor likely ever would, watched intently and nodded every so often as if making mental notes.

“For breakfast, she likes to eat strawberries and yogurt. I also give her some eggs that I make for myself.”

“Is that what you are making now?” He asked as Jude moved back and forth from the oven to the plates.

She nodded. “Sometimes, I give her a half piece of toast if she’s hungry. It all depends.”

“Depends on what exactly?” Cardan asked, having switched his attention briefly back to Everly, who began blowing bubbles with her mouth.

She shrugged, “I don’t know. Every day is different, but you just learn to read what she wants.” Jude moved around the kitchen bar and slid her arm around Everly, moving her into the highchair and placing the breakfast plate down. “Plus, she is talking so much more now, so it is easy enough just to ask.”

On cue, Everly said, “Tank youuu,” before shoving a berry into her mouth.

Upon making her own plate, Jude sat down next to Cardan, offering the carton of strawberries to him. They all ate in silence for a few moments, before Cardan spoke again.

“I’d like…” he began, “...to learn to know what she needs… and wants.”

A twist of guilt formed in Jude’s stomach. Devastation was written in the hard lines of his face. It pained him to know he had a daughter, who he functionally knew nothing about. Jude let the silence grow for another minute before she began listing off things about their daughter; She was born on March 13th. Her favorite foods were grapes and cheese. She hated carrots and would throw them across the dining room if they were on her plate. Her favorite toys were blocks and a rainbow unicorn stuffed animal. She had a nap after lunch around 12:30, and dinner was at 5. She always fell asleep in the car after playing at the park and always played with other kids. Once she had started crawling, she discovered how to play hide-and-seek on her own, and frequently tried to scare Jude after finding it hilarious the first time Jude jumped in surprise. She had developed Cardan’s coy smirk, purely from genetics. Some “only magic could explain” events had happened in recent months, so it was very likely that she possessed her father’s fae gifts.

The corners of Cardan’s beautiful mouth turned up with each tidbit he learned and was practically beaming when Jude started to tell stories about what it was like during the teething stages, when she took her first steps, and other moments where she acted so much like both of them. Jude let herself take in the small enjoyment of being able to share so many of the moments that she had experienced with their daughter alone. While she had often shared these things with her sister and little brother, it felt different sharing it with Cardan. Jude never planned to share Everly with Cardan, but things had changed dramatically over the last few weeks. The fact remained that she was their daughter, and it was something that would bond them forever.

Before either of them realized it, it was almost dusk. Cardan had followed her around through a typical day at home routine with a trip to the park, a nap, and he even helped with potty training and preparing dinner. Cardan held her when she was fussy and didn’t mind the occasional smack to the face when she got too excited and threw her arms out.

She shouldn’t be impressed. These were things she did every day, alone. If Cardan wanted to know his daughter, then he should have to participate in everything that went into being a parent. But Cardan grew up in a palace. He had maids and cooks. He was king . Every need was taken care of at a single command. In the castle, Everly would likely have a maid tend to her. None of the skills she was teaching him really mattered, but he learned them anyway.

Unless he thought she would never allow Everly back to the castle, and this was the only way he would get to see her. The thought made her feel a flurry of emotions.

Everly was fighting sleep as she watched Cardan’s magic light up and dissipate from his palm. As much as she was in awe of the colorful lights he created, her eyelids dropped lower and lower until she fell asleep in the crook of his arm.

“She is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Cardan murmured finally, brushing her dark bangs out of her eyes.

Jude rolled her eyes and laughed, “Well, she is the spitting image of you, so of course you’d think that.”

Cardan just shook his head, “I cannot deny we share the most obvious similarities, but when you look closely, she looks just like you.” He traced Everly’s tiny ear, much like he had with Jude’s that day lying in the grass. “She has your smile. Have you noticed?”

He looked back to Jude, who shook her head slowly. She had never noticed before. All she saw was Cardan in her beautiful features. Some days it had been a painful reminder of the past that she could never entirely escape. Their eyes met, and Jude noted the way Cardan’s eyes dropped to her lips before returning again. She mimicked the motion herself. His lips were as perfect as the rest of his features. Jude’s breath caught as she noticed Cardan had gone preternaturally still. Suddenly, the oxygen in the room had run out.

Meeting Everly had stolen the focus of their reunion. Without a moment by themselves, the true reunion between the former lovers ( and enemies ) had not yet happened. They needed to talk. They needed to be at each other’s throats; in violence or want, Jude wasn’t sure. It was standing at a precipice, balancing before that falling sensation that would be the future neither of them knew the outcome of yet. A future as united rulers, raising Everly in a loving environment was still a fever dream Jude wouldn’t let herself believe in.

Jude broke her eyes away first, jumping to her feet and walking over to the dresser to get her can of soda. The action gave her a moment to resume a normal breathing pattern again. When she returned, she reached for the baby, but Cardan pulled back ever so slightly.

“Would it be alright to hold her a few minutes longer? I haven’t got much time before I must go.”

Jude hesitated, shoving down the rage that boiled when he had moved away. She searched his face and found no malice in it, just a bit of exhaustion peeking up. A calming breath had her thinking rationally again. Nodding, Jude moved back to her original spot.

The king and queen sat quietly, watching the sleeping child, all the while ignoring the almost moment they had. After a few minutes, Cardan rose gently from the couch and carried the child to the nursery. He returned to the living room a moment later. “May I return next week?” Cardan asked.

“Next weekend is Halloween. We are going to be out for most of the day Sunday.”

Cardan looked puzzled for a moment before recognition hit. “The mortal holiday of candy and tricks? Such a day does not seem suitable for a babe.”

Jude laughed. Leave it to Cardan, who grew up in Faerie of all places, to think Halloween was dangerous. “It is hardly as dangerous as it sounds. It is mostly families who dress up in silly costumes and walk around the neighborhood getting candy.”

A spark lit in Cardan’s gaze. “Families?” he asked softly, “So… you intend to wear a costume along with Everly?”

Realization dawned on Jude, causing her to fidget. They still had not really established what type of dynamic they would have raising Everly. Being a “family” seemed too personal of a term, although they were bound together in more ways than one.

“Everly is going as a pumpkin. Vivi bought her the costume last week. I can show it to you if you’d like.” Cardan nodded, and Jude retrieved the costume from the closet. She handed it to Cardan, who held it gingerly. It was utterly adorable with its puffy bottom and matching hat. “Oak insisted that I dress up too, but I will probably just put on a witch hat.”

“Are you going with them?” Cardan set down the costume and walked to the door. He recognized her diversion for what it was.

“Yeah. Neither Oak nor Vivi have to wear their glamour on Halloween. So Oak is going as a devil, Vivi as a cat, and I think Heather is going as a mad scientist.” She trailed off as guilt washed over her in waves. The entire conversation felt wrong, especially when she knew what Cardan wanted. A different Cardan would have made demands and threats, but the three years she had been gone had changed him. He was more patient, more willing to give her space. She was waiting for something… for the cruel young boy she had known to make an appearance, but he wasn’t there.

Cardan took one look back towards Everly’s nursery door, before turning the handle and stepping out into the night. Sadness not well hidden on his face. Jude mentally berated him. He shouldn’t forget to wear a mask among his enemies otherwise they would take advantage of him and the kingdom. But... perhaps he didn’t bother because they weren’t enemies anymore.

“I’ll send a letter next-”

“You should come,” she blurted out.

Cardan turned to face her, equally shocked at her words. “I-” He starts, but Jude interrupts again.

“We are leaving at 4. You can wear a costume or drop your glamour, whichever you prefer. But…” she swallowed. “It would be nice for you to be there. Everly would like it if you were there.”

Heat burned across her cheeks. It was a silly thing to be embarrassed about. Cardan was Everly’s father. Parents go with their kids on Halloween. But the redness was not only from her words. Cardan was staring at her with an unrecognizable emotion. She met his gaze, and the intensity behind his eyes felt too intimate like it had on the couch. It brought up too many feelings that Jude had not allowed herself to feel in years.

Her lips parted, attempting to fill the silence that had grown too long when Cardan bent down and placed a chaste kiss on her warm cheek before saying his goodbye and leaving.

The spot where his lips had met her cheek continued to warm as she returned to the living room and threw herself face down on the couch.

________________________

Jude walked through the door into Heather’s apartment and was overcome with a thick wall of fall scents. The entire apartment had been decorated with Halloween and fall decorations. It looked like Heather and Vivi had not decided on a cohesive theme, as each room appeared to be at war with each other. Dismembered bloody figures were wrapped in glitter pumpkin-themed garland. Skulls lined the shelves and were accompanied by “Friends Gather Here” signs. It was utterly horrifying and amusing at the same time.

Everly didn’t mind and squealed at the string of purple and orange lights that covered the ceiling. She walked into the middle of the room where the lights were lowest and reached up for the lights. The child’s face exploded with joy when her little body was lifted into the air, close enough to the lights she could grasp them in her hands. Cardan had swooped into the room, drawn by the sound of Everly’s laughter, and lifted her above his head before Jude had a chance to track the movement.

“Good afternoon, my loves,” Cardan said while bringing Everly back down into his arms.

She smiled up at him, “Daaa.” The word was still unfamiliar in her mouth. Cardan looked to Jude for help. Without meeting his eyes, Jude walked over to them and smiled encouragingly.

“That’s right! This is Daddy.”

Everly repeated the word over and over, still missing the second syllable, but Jude continued to praise her as she had over the last week teaching it. Finally, she glanced up to meet his eyes and felt butterflies in her own stomach. Cardan’s cheeks had reddened, and silver lined his eyes. He continued to bounce her lightly in his arms and nod encouragingly. Any words that he might have spoken were cut off by emotion.

“I wanted to surprise you.” She said as a way of explanation.

Cardan nodded again, eyes glistening. He leaned over and gently pressed a kiss to Jude’s cheek, making it her turn to blush.

“Jude…” his voice came out hoarse. Before he could continue, the moment was interrupted by the rest of the house.

Oak ran over and hugged Jude, “Can we play together now?”

Jude looked to Cardan for the answer, and begrudgingly, he set her back on the ground. Taking her by the hand, Oak led Everly to his room, where the two often played together. Vivi had brought out two large steaming cups of cider and placed them in Jude and Cardan’s hands before Heather motioned for everyone to sit down in the living room. Heather took the beanbag chair and clasped her hands together.

“So, look at you too. Co-parenting like pros. I wish my parents did holidays together. Instead, I just had to celebrate every holiday twice, which I suppose wasn’t the worst thing in the world.”

A blush spread furiously across Jude’s face, and she refused to look in Cardan’s direction, but judging from his sudden stiffness, he too, was trying to process the comment.

Co-parenting.

Two twenty-somethings. High King and Queen of Elfhame. Parents of a two-year-old. Their lives had never been simple, but their current circumstances were especially new territory. Halloween was not the time to talk, but Jude wondered how much longer she could find an excuse to delay a conversation.

A half-hour later, the six of them left the apartment in search of candy. Cardan had managed to find a pumpkin costume himself in the short period he knew of their plans, but when he realized how unflattering he looked in it, he opted for an even more obnoxious orange suit instead, while Jude decided to wear a black skeleton costume.

With the King of Elfhame walking around in the open, Jude made sure to keep an eye on each and every ghoul, zombie, and vampire that crossed their path. Liliver and the Court of Shadows lurked, undercover and from the unsuspecting places around them, but Jude still kept vigilant herself. It was a taste of what their future would look like. Even as queen, she would still look out for Cardan and now their child too.

Everly didn’t make it long into Trick or Treating. Oak tried to walk with her up to each house, but her little steps made the process slow, and Oak’s excitement had him basically dragging her along after the first street. Eventually, Cardan swooped in and carried Everly up to each house, until her eyes dropped and she completely fell asleep.

Oak’s energy, on the other hand, was limitless, and it wasn’t until his bag was so full he had to resort to dragging the bag that he agreed to go home. Once it was time, Heather, Vivi, and Oak said their goodbyes and headed toward their house.

Cardan and Jude walked down the dark street and up to Jude’s apartment, remarking on the events of the evening. Once inside, Cardan helped remove the costume and wiped off the orange spots on Everly’s cheeks before laying her down in bed. She stirred for a moment before sleep took over once again. The two walked back to the entryway before Cardan interrupted the silence that had loomed over them.

“Are you coming home?”

There was no anger or sadness in his words. Rather, a carefully delivered question, not revealing any of his thoughts.

She considered the question. Yes, she wanted to. No, it was dangerous. How long before Cardan’s patience wore thin? How long before the desperation to return home would overtake her? How long before some enemy court found them here anyway with limited protection?

“It can’t just be about what I want anymore.”

A non-answer, but Cardan did not back down this time. “What does the mortal world have that makes it a better place to raise her?”

Jude’s brow furrowed. “Less would-be assassins or kidnappers, happy to snatch a royal baby.”

“I would like to remind you, that I survived a childhood in Elfhame utterly neglected and without any protection.” Jude started to object, but Cardan continued, “And that would not be the case with her. She will have all the protection our kingdom can offer.”

Jude didn’t miss the emphasis he had placed on “our” kingdom.

“Surely, someone will notice the rotation of spies and guards that are sent here, and our enemies will wonder why. We are being careful, but it is foolish to think someone won’t pick up on it. Not to mention, the risk we take with my absences.”

“Then stop coming.” The venomous words slipped out of her before she could stop them. The anger rising in her was from the truth of his words She had been foolish to think there was a way to continue this inbetween situation. They would either have to disappear again and cut off the connection to Cardan and the court completely, or they would have to return.

“I-” she began, wanting to take the words back. Cardan kept his features blank. His words were more clipped than before, the only reaction he would show to her words.

“I said before I want to be in her life, and I mean it. I want to be in both your lives,” he stressed. “I will not miss this time with her. And if you continue to live in the mortal world, I will not miss the limited time we have together.”

Jude flinched so violently that it was like an invisible blow struck her. He was right, though; she would keep aging in the mortal world, and Everly would only be a faction of the way through her long life before Jude passed from old age. The thought had her shaking slightly.

Her head emptied as he stalked up to her. It had her automatically stepping backward, pinning her back against the wall. His intensity didn’t waiver, but as he noted her body language, he took a small step back.

His eyes searched hers, despair burning his features. “I will have you however you decide. Rule me again as you once did. Take a lover if you won’t have me. But know, I will bend to your will with or without a bargain. Name your price, and I will meet it; just don’t torture me with your absence or delay any longer.”

A sob built in her throat; her words came out with unexpected anguish, “Cardan, I don’t want a new lover. I don’t need another bargain.”

This time, when he advanced, he did so slowly, and Jude didn’t move away. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek. It burned under his touch. Cardan gently tilted her head up until they were eye level, “Jude…” He closed his eyes in silent prayer before looking down at her again. Almost too quiet to hear, he whispered, “I just want you home.”

Her resolve had melted, and she didn’t have the strength to fight the truth anymore. She wanted to go home too, with Cardan, with Everly.

It was time to reclaim her throne and her life with the family she never could have imagined.

“Take me home.” The words were barely off her lips before Cardan’s mouth was crashing over hers. He wrapped his free arm around her as they continued the kiss, her hands gripping his tunic. Before long, their cheeks were damp with tears of joy and release from all the years of waiting.

"Take me home, Cardan," Jude murmured again, "Take us home."

Cardan only nodded before leaning in to kiss her again.

#jude x cardan #jurdan #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #the cruel prince #tfota #the folk of the air #tcp #the wicked king #queen of nothing #just jurdan things #jurdan baby #tofta fanfic #jurdan parents #jurdan fic

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jurdanhell · 2 years ago

Note

Okay so basically, I was re reading the chapter where Cardan asks Jude “and is it out of your system?” And Jude’s like “oh yea yea totally” sis, we all know that’s LIES 😂. I was just trying to imagine an alternate scene thinking.. what if she says no? Idk about anyone else but I think it would lead to basically chapter 15 part 2 so I was wondering if you could write a filthy something something 😂🥴 (like I mentioned before, no pressure)

I Will Know Nothing (Until I Know You)

Read it on AO3!

Word Count: 1,432

Rating: Mature

“And is it?" He asks. "Out of your system?”

I think of the blusher mushroom, the deathsweet, the wraithberry running through my veins with equal measure ferocity and instinct. We are alike in this way.

“No,” I say, because the indulgence of poison is one that I know greater than anything else.

I am unlearned at love and its making, but no matter how obvious that is to him, he does not let it show. Not when he guides my hands so carefully over him. Not when he redirects my nails to claw again at his back as he brings his mouth to the tender space just behind my ear. I suck my lip between the sharpest edges of my teeth, against the sound that rumbles in the back of my throat, because what this really is is a secret, and the more he knows is all the more he can use against me. I bite down on my lip hard enough to bleed.

The familiar sickness of poison roils through my gut, twinged with something else. A layer of sweat sheens over my skin and I am dizzy from the blood that rushes to my cheeks, my head, no doubt as diseased as what I’d ingested only earlier today. As infected as myself.

I tip my head back, again reminded of the things we’d done in that secret room behind the throne, and all the things we hadn’t. He brings his mouth to the hollow of my throat, pushing me back into the office in the Court of Shadows that I’ve taken as my own. He pauses only to push the door closed.

The dizzying absence from his hands on my skin leaves as quickly as it arrives, as though it was aware of how soon it would be replaced with another, equally intoxicating feeling.

Since my time in Faerie, I have grown very good at pretending. Pretending that my muscles do not sing from the acute pain from the swinging of my sword, pretending that it didn’t hurt every time I’d been made an example of being something lesser. Pretending that I do not feel as I do, hiding even from myself. I am not sure I keep the longing off my face, but with his hands drifting down the tie of my breeches, nose deep in the crook of my neck, I am not sure it matters.

Perhaps desire is like mithridatism, where I should be taking doses slowly, accumulating my body to the poison until it affects me no longer. Perhaps my overindulgence here will kill me as surely as any sharp blade.

It isn’t until he sinks down onto his knees, pushing the backs of my legs to the edge of the desk, mouth drifting across my navel that I decide that I do not care.

Religion in Faerie is scarcely discussed, brought up only with the slandering of poor fates and cursed as surely as any gambling man might blame the hand. There might have been gods, once, but anything infinite in an immortal mind is just as easily forgotten. But he slides my breeches down to my knees with such piety, pushing my legs apart with such reverence that I’m sure one of us has found it.

Something flutters in my chest as he brings his mouth to my center, looking up at me through his dark lashes. Not as though I ought to be the one praying, but as though this is the prayer. As though any noise I might make would make for choir, would carry the cadence of a hymn. He looks at me as though he means to memorize it, this moment. The shape of my very skin.

His hands move methodically against me, into me. There is strategy here yet, and I refuse to concede. I will not concede.

This time, I do not let my hands shake.

I bring one hand to his hair and knot my fingers so deeply I am not sure they will ever be free. I am not sure I want them to be. His tongue brushes flat against me, but it is the heat of his breath against my bare thigh that is my undoing. He moans my name against my skin, whispering dirty things I'm certain he would not say if his goal wasn't to make me give in. I will not give in.

I lean back against the desk, putting my weight on my elbow. I’m half-aware of something being knocked to the floor when he sinks lower to bring one of my legs over his shoulder.

There is an awful kind of pleasure in being granted what you’ve so desperately wanted, even if you’ve convinced yourself you didn’t. It seems we are both good at making terrible decisions.

This deep underground, it is too dark for plants to grow. There are no windows to allow moonlight to skim in, pooling like milk against the scarce furniture that was undoubtedly stolen for the home of thieves. That does not stop vines from snaking their way up the walls, cloying around any surface they can find purchase on. Surely, deep down in their making, they must know they were doomed to die the moment they sprouted. There is nothing for them here. No light, no water. No chance for survival.

That is what I tell myself as Cardan’s other hand slips beneath my shirt to palm at my breast. That is what I tell myself as I let him. There is no chance for survival. There is no way I would have survived this, anyway.

Maybe I can still take him down with me.

His finery is disarranged as I pull against his hair, beckoning him to his feet as I yank him roughly overtop of me, laying myself flat against the desk, my hair spilling over the edge. He looks dissatisfied, as though he were a cat whose cream I’d just stolen for no other reason than to be cruel.

I am, I know. But not for this.

His lips are swollen when I bring them roughly to my own, tasting myself from his mouth. It is a stupor that fills my lungs, my brain, working its way into my blood that controls me. My volition is not my own. I do not think it has been for a long while.

My hands go to his breeches, toying with the lace in the front, but not untying it. I do not know much, enough that he is aware of, but not so little that I am completely unknowledgeable. I refuse to think of the way he looked up to me, his mouth against the softest parts of my skin, drawing sensitive shapes with his teeth, his tongue.

A flower I do not recognize springs from the ivy that unfolds above us, a deep blue that might have been purple in the sun, trumpeting from its stem on the vine. Its yellow-white center does not shy away from the darkness of the room around us.

I move my hands to undo the buttons of his shirt with as much slowness as I can manage with his mouth working delicious cruelties over a soft spot on my neck.

The room is overcome with blooming buds in the darkness. One of my hands drifts over a knot of scars at his back, and I realize that it is not despite the darkness that they crest so fully, so openly, that it is in spite of it. That, maybe there is a kind of bravery in being so honest. In knowing the risks of a poison, and taking the plunge anyway.

He pushes himself against me in a way that is somehow more intimate than when we were both bare. It is not unlike when the clouds part from a silvered sky, letting the moonlight drink in the land, the faelights crashing up into the stars and melding into the air. Somehow, the unbrokenness of this moment is what is visceral, is so guarded by its profoundness that it will know nothing else. I am certain that when I open my eyes, I will see stars.

I am filled with a hatred so hot it warms me from the inside out, so bright that I might never truly be cold.

I hate that he is the one that makes me feel this way, and that the statement alone is as much honesty I can bare, even to myself. I am a coward.

My thoughts are splintering under the guiding action of his fingers, and I realize his clever poison is not simply along the sweat of his skin or tucked in between stolen kisses. It is in his words, his breath, and it is in me, too. And now, I am not sure I will ever be able to escape it.

Masterlist

i don't think i've ever written a first-person tfota fic. anyway i have absolutely nothing to say for myself. enjoy, sluts and whores <3

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@cutekawaiihentaiboobies @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @whoviantalibah @snusbandxknifewife @goddess-of-writing @storiesandschemes @thesirenwashere @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @andromeddea @clockworkgraystairs @hizqueen4life @highqueenjudeduarte @the-chick-of-the-air @dorkzrul @sassylunars @justabunchoffandoms @queenofgreenbriar @fandomfanatic987 @df3ndyr @brittneyal @woodsbeyond1 @clouds-and-peonies @mis-lil-red @firestarsandseneschals @b00kworm @bisexual-bibliophile @greenbumblebee @danaanruhn @acciomanorian @ireallyshouldsleeprn @vanessa172003 @janeslandrys @potterpasties @nahthanks @ahdiejajdjsiaksudjjssj @queen-of-demons-and-hell @thefolkofthefic @myunfortunatenightmare @reneereadsstuff @lordoftermites @figonas @aftg-tcp-soc4402 @dumble-daddy @greenbriarxrose @shadowhuntingdemigod @pollyaunt @kittkatandbooboo @savagelysarcasticsilence @romantic-loverr @teenyweenynightghost @bookcide

#i don’t know what to say for myself. so i simply won’t #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #jurdan #tfota #the wicked king #the folk of the air #the queen of nothing #tcp #cardan #tfota fic #jurdan fic #jurdan smut #jurdanhellwrites

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lidiasloca · 2 years ago

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jude's birthday party

jude x cardan

post-queen of nothing

cardan's pov

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

"I thought you said you understood," Jude says, her tone pointed. I fall silent because, unfortunately, I can’t lie.

I told her I understood that she always celebrates her birthday with her twin, and that she didn’t want to change that—it wouldn’t be fair to Taryn. But what I don’t understand is why she can’t see that she's the high queen now. She deserves a celebration in her own right.

"I— I did," I mutter, staring down like a child caught in a lie. "I was just saying Taryn could celebrate the next day."

Jude's eyes narrow dangerously, giving me that wild, unpredictable look of hers.

"Cardan," she says, separating every syllable like a warning, "you won’t tell her that because she’ll agree with you, feel guilty, and then blah blah blah—you know how she is."

I sigh. It's not that I want to mess with Taryn, tempting as that may be. I just want Jude to have a proper revel in her honor—the queen’s honor.

She moves around the room furiously, tidying up clothes and generally making a mess of things, which makes me chuckle.

"What?" she snaps, catching the sound. "It’s not funny that you’re so messy."

Little liar. She’s the messy one. In fact, the clothes she’s holding right now are hers. But I keep that thought to myself—she’s already too wound up for me to add fuel to the fire.

“Judie,” I say softly, stepping behind her and taking her hands, causing her to drop the clothes to the floor.

“Don’t call me that,” she hisses, but I can’t suppress a smirk.

“If you want to share your birthday party with her, so be it. It’s your call.” I kiss her cheek, pulling her closer from behind. “But don’t expect me to share my present with her.”

She turns to me, grinning now, and buries her face in the crook of my neck.

“What’s your present?” she asks, her lips brushing my skin as she speaks.

“I’m not telling you, wife, you know that.” I’ve been planning her gift for months now, and her curiosity has been relentless. Every time I’ve hinted at it, she’s peppered me with questions.

"Agh, I want to know." She mock-sobs, pulling away just enough to stare at me, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "If..." she starts, smirking. "If you tell me what it is, I’ll let you throw the revel you want."

She’s so manipulative, but it just makes me fall harder.

"You mean celebrating just your birthday? No Taryn?" She nods, completely unapologetic. "You mean the thing I’ve begged you to let me do for months? The same thing that used to make you furious whenever I brought it up?"

I try to keep my voice serious, but it’s hard when she’s nodding with that wicked smile of hers. "All because you’re too impatient to wait a day to know what your gift is?"

Jude’s lips part, her expression shifting suddenly to surprise before curling back into a triumphant smile.

“What?” I ask, confused.

"You said presents—plural."

She misses nothing. "You—" are impossibly frustrating, I think, but I can’t say it out loud. Not with the way she’s looking at me.

"I’m what?" she laughs, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around my waist.

"Well, now that I’ve let it slip about the presents, you’ll let me throw your party my way, won’t you?" I murmur, my lips brushing her hair.

“Mmm… I don’t think we ever finalized that deal. And besides,” she pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, her grin sharp as ever, "you didn’t mean to tell me. So, really, it wouldn’t be fair."

I can’t see it, but I’d bet my kingdom she’s smirking, knowing she’s got the upper hand. Foolish or not, I still can't help but smile.

-Characters by Holly Black

#jurdan #jude and cardan #jurdan headcanon #the folk of the air #thefolkoftheair #jurdan canon #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude and cardan headcanon #i miss jude and cardan #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #cardan x jude #jurdan fic #jude and cardan fic #jurdan fanfic #the cruel prince

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absinthemind3d · 1 year ago

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I Only Want You - Chapter 2

Read on AO3 above or here, above and below the cut >>>

Chapter 1: Jude's POV is here (tumblr) or here (AO3)

I Only Want You - Chapter 2: Cardan's POV (1630 words)

---

“That is good,” I begin slowly, unsure of how to proceed without being able to lie. Eventually, I settle on, “For I would not wish you to.”

Hurt flickers briefly across her face, but it’s quickly replaced with what I know to be ire.

I have to be alright with letting her think that I do not want her here, that I might not want her at all.

The alternative, that I would rather it be her raking her hands down my stomach, her fixing her attention to every inch of my body — it’s unforgivable.

Yes, I kissed her, and yes, I want her, but she? Judging by the anger rolling off of her in waves as she glares at me from against the wall, chest heaving, I do not think she wants me. I do not think she wants anything to do with me, besides commanding my hand.

“In that case,” she eventually spits out, speaking as though every word is difficult to expel, “I shall take my leave of you. You’ll be pleased to know your chambers are secure.” She bows again, muttering what I think must be curses and rubbing her knees before she rises and turns to exit through the secret door by which she gained entry to this tableau.

That same look of hurt — she must be in an exorbitant amount of physical pain from the mirror hitting her legs — crosses her face before she turns, and it gives me pause. I want to comfort her.

I turn my head as far as I am able in this position and look both my bedfellows in the eyes. They look expectant, as though they have not yet had their fill. I certainly have not either — I am still tortured by thoughts of Jude, and of course, ill timed devil that she is, she appears!

I cannot sate myself on anyone, though, I think sadly. No matter how many times I attempt this, no matter the number of lovers I add to an evening — and there have been several more than two, at times — I cannot shake her.

I make up my mind just as she moves to close the door behind her. “Leave us,” I command them, and their faces fall but they obey me, silently slipping from my side, gathering their clothing, but making no attempt to clothe themselves before leaving the bedroom. I have servants in the next room who can escort them to my bath, where they can wash themselves clean of me — though perhaps not each other, just yet. That is fine; they may do as they wish.

I look back to the door where Jude — is still frozen. I can just see her fingers, tense against the handle, through the few inches she has left the door ajar.

I try to maintain a picture of ease as I call to her. “Dearest Jude, whatever were you doing traipsing through my passageways at this time of the evening?” I’d rather she be traipsing through some of my other passageways. I cannot think that, though, not if I want to be able to maintain my calm facade through the next few moments.

She nearly falls back through the door, she turns so fast. “You know, I could command you not to ask me such inane questions,” she remarks, the same hand that was upon the door handle now pointing a finger towards my face. Her other hand hovers by the hilt of her sword.

“It would be a blessing,” I drawl, “To not have to ask them in the first place.”

She advances on me now. “What I do for the safety and security of the Crown is none of your concern — your only job is not to get murdered, or stabbed to death by a jealous lover, or—”

Her eyes are wild as she approaches the bed, where I am still lounging, quite starkly naked. I think she must have forgotten this in her haste, and is now searching for a focal point that isn’t somewhere below my waist.

“Dearest Jude,” I murmur, catching her wrist before she can come any closer (though she is already so, so close), “I put myself in your capable hands, as you know.” I smile simply, patting her hand in what I hope is a comforting gesture. As if being patted on the hand by a naked faerie is in any way comfortable to a human being.

It does seem to make her soften, if only a little. What comes out of my mouth next is completely involuntary.

“Jude,” I speak even softly than I did before, looking right into her eyes, “Why did you appear so hurt earlier?”

She pretends she doesn’t know what I mean, looking away from me and furrowing her brow. “I don’t know what you could possibly be referring to. I am not hurt; I am embarrassed.”

By now, I have become well-acquainted with Jude’s facial expressions, and I know she was not embarrassed. Not in that moment, at least. But fine — I knew humans could be squeamish about sexual activity. I could pretend this was all that she felt, if that is what she wished. But why would she not tell me the truth?

“What are you embarrassed about?” I asked, open curiosity on my face. I am not sure why I didn’t just let her leave, or why my mouth continues to betray me. She gapes at me.

“I didn’t know you had company,” she answers pointedly before gesturing to my body, “Or that you’d be so flagrantly displaying yourself for this long.” She blushes further, and maybe I don’t need to pretend that Jude is squeamish about nudity.

“Flagrant?” I tease, running my free hand along my side and down to my leg. “What about this is flagrant? I rather prefer to call it art.”

She tries to back away from me — I realize I am still holding her by the wrist. I release it and she turns to go, spitting over her shoulder, “Have someone come and paint it for you then.”

Something about the venom in her voice, the set of her shoulders, the way her recently released wrist shakes ever so slightly — it pushes me over the edge. If my mouth was betraying me before, my body is beginning to do the same.

I rise, and as if she can sense my movement, she pauses in her stride. She stiffens as I walk closer, but I only pass by her right shoulder to retrieve a robe. As I shrug it on, I stalk back to her and circle her body, stopping when I am in front of her. Now I am between her and the door.

“My sweet mortal commander,” I purr, “You must know there are hundreds who would line up to paint this body with their mouths. That I should have to obscure its brilliance in your presence is—insulting.”

“Good,” she grinds out through her teeth, “You need a healthy dose of reality. Not everyone is lining up.” Yet, as she speaks, her eyes trail down the long open V of the robe, to where I have tied it just above that area she was so pointedly trying to ignore before.

Her eyes widen slightly when she sees how the robe isn’t concealing the way I am feeling.

“And yet,” I smirk, reaching out to touch her cheek. She stiffens but does not move away. “You are still here.”

There is something in the air between us; by touching her cheek and bridging the gap between our bodies, I seem to have stirred it. Colour is still high on her cheeks, but she is sticking her chin out in defiance. Whatever she is attempting to conquer, I am sure I can make her forget it.

Kiss me until I am sick of it.

I wonder, not for the first or even hundredth time, what our kiss felt like for her. I also wonder how much of my evening’s previous festivities she was privy to. The idea that she watched most of it voluntarily after stumbling upon the scene suddenly sends a rush of blood to my cock, and I hold back a groan.

“Jude,” I manage to exhale, and it sounds more like a sigh than a question. “I will ask you again, and pray tell you do not lie — why did you look so hurt earlier?”

She steps closer to me now, and a thrill rolls through my body as the static in the air fully charges. “Your Majesty,” she starts, gazing up at me through her lashes as her hands come to her hips. I want them on mine. “I beg you not to question me. You are very lucky I do not make it a command as I threatened.”

“Why, Jude? Whatever might be the reason” — I step closer now, nearly closing the gap between our bodies — “that you do not want any questions?”

“That, too, is a question,” she groans, exasperated. “Please, Cardan—”

And I am undone. The way she says my name has me cupping her face in both my hands, stepping as close as I can so that we crash into each other. If she chose to pull away I would let her, and I pause to give her the space if she needs. I am a madman at this rate; High King be damned, I should be hanged for this sort of behaviour.

I pull back just enough to wait for the shove that I am sure is coming. Instead, she grins at me wickedly and grabs my face, pushing me back into the door she came through so hard that it slams shut.

“Now that,” she pants a bit, “is a question I can answer.”

#jurdan #jurdan smut #cardan pov #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #tfota #the folk of the air #jurdanhell #jurdan fic

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mmvalentine · 2 years ago

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Your Name Around my Neck | Jurdan

I UMMMMM found this somewhat bloody fic in my drafts holy shit i forgot that past me wrote this I am...in need of help anyway indulge with me in this madness if you like

We get in late tonight; the revel is still going but I’ve been on the throne three years now and I’m finally feeling like I can leave when I want to. After a lifetime of wearing through my shoes just to prove I can keep up with the fae, it is a pleasure to simply stand and sweep out of the room when I tire of the event. And of course Cardan trails after me more often than not, not because he’s tired too but because he hates everyone.

Our bedroom door snicks shut behind us and the music is immediately muffled. I start stripping off as I walk through the room, discarding shoes and gloves and jewellery before sitting down at my vanity to remove my make up. Cardan has not bothered. He’s slumped over the bed fully clothed as is toying with something he’s pulled from his pocket while I swipe at my face.

“Well I thought that went well,” Cardan comments.

We hosted the Court of Termites tonight, and got through almost four courses before Nicasia made a snide remark and Kaye threw a fistful of mashed potatoes in her face. It always amuses me that Kaye is perhaps my opposite- while I have honed my court sensibilities in efforts to make up for my being human, Kaye is fae girl who has all the thoughtlessness of a mortal. Perhaps I’m just jealous that I don’t have the luxury.

After the flung potatoes, the evening devolved quickly. Lord Roiben ushered a shouting, fist-shaking Kaye away but many of his court stayed on to drink and dance and smear food over each other, and I lost interest not long after that.

“I don’t know about ‘well’ but it was certainly entertaining,” I concede, and tilt my chin up at the mirror. “Fuck’s sake Cardan, have these been here all night?!”

I peer at my reflection, and staring back at me are four long bruises down the side of my neck. I turn my head and find the thumb mark on the other side.

My husband smirks from the bed.

“Ashamed of my handiwork, Jude?”

“They weren’t this bad when I got dressed I’m sure…”

“They usually take a few hours to settle in, I’ve noticed.”

I scowl. “You needn’t sound so pleased with yourself, you know.”

Cardan rolls his eyes. “What do you care, you liked getting choked while we’re-”

I throw a brush at his head before he can finish the sentence.

“Prick,” I say.

“Prude,” he returns.

But it’s not that I’m afraid of what people will think of my sex life. The fae are anything but shy when it comes to amorous oddities. No, it’s that I’m the Queen now and I can’t bear to have them think of me bested.

Held down and strangled. At the mercy of a another.

Submissive.

I shake my hair out and throw down the last of the pins before climbing into bed. There are some parts of myself that Cardan might know, but that I’m not willing to share with the court.

“If you’re that self-conscious, I have something that could cover the bruises,” Cardan says. And then lifts aloft the object in his fingers. I look and I am horrified.

“Is that a collar?!” I stutter.

Cardan turns it over in his hands and the little silver buckles tinkle like bells.

“It would hide your neck,” he replies, looking at the leather as he speaks.

“The problem isn’t my neck, the problem is the mad things I let you do to me,” I mutter. I think I’m blushing at just the idea of walking into a public space like wearing that thing.

Suddenly I’m yanked backwards. Cardan’s got his hand under my hair and when my head falls into his lap, he leans over me and stares hard like he’s studying the bruise patterns of his own fingers.

“I like the mad things you let me do to you,” he murmurs, and his voice has dropped to that place that loosens my grasp on how much I need to be in control. His cool fingers slide down the front of my nightshirt, as if to demonstrate his freedom to touch me. “I like people knowing you’re mine.”

Cardan’s thumb brushes over my nipple and it peaks readily for him. I close my eyes, and he squeezes my breast slowly in his hand. His other hand is still in my hair, and he makes a fist and uses it to tilt my head back.

“Still not wearing the collar,” I gasp. Cardan cocks his head, and flourishes my own knife between his fingers.

“I could carve my name into you instead,” he says, and I swear his canines get sharper in the candle light. The sweet, heavy feeling evaporates.

I twist fast, surprising him so he lets go of my hair, and pluck my knife out of his hand. I push him back by the chest so that it’s me straddling him now, and the anger feels fortifying.

“Are you not mine also, beloved?” I hiss. My dagger rests under his chin, and the metal glints down the length of it.

I hate my knives being stolen. I’ve cut off fingers for less, and so far Cardan is the only one who’s successfully lifted them off my person without my noticing. Worse still when I know his nails are sharp enough that he doesn’t need them. I haven’t told him how much it bothers me because I think that would just make him do it more often.

The King just blinks dreamily up at me.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he says, and bares his throat to me.

I slice the top two buttons off his shirt and pull the fabric back. The marble of his chest is so smooth, so unmarked, and suddenly I’m sorely tempted.

“Don’t tease a girl,” I tell him, and press the point of the knife just below his collar bone. Cardan only pulls his shirt further open for me, and how can I describe the rush of feeling I get when he pours himself at my feet like this?

Back and forth we go, me and Cardan. The Queen and the King. Power like a golden ball tossed between us, so fast it spins my head sometimes. It’s not so much who rules today but who rules in this hour? In this minute? In this moment?

I flick my knife and a second later, the letter J wells up scarlet at the base of my lover’s throat.

Cardan’s eyes gleam but he doesn’t make a sound. I am filled with a savage satisfaction, and when Cardan sits up to meet me I crush my mouth against his. The kiss is biting and harsh, and I slice my lower lip on his teeth but only press closer to him. When I finally pull back, we have blood smeared on our chins. I wipe my sleeve over Cardan’s mouth but he just leans forward and licks my chin roughly like a cat and I shiver. We walk either side of being human, him and I, and sometimes I look down at my feet and I can’t remember which side I’m on and it thrills me.

“Wear my collar Jude,” he says, and it’s a growl in his throat when he says it. He holds the leather between us and the J sends a single red drop down his chest.

I take the thing and buckle it around my neck while Cardan watches. It’s got a small silver ring in the front and in the curve of the ring is his name. His eyes glaze over as my hands come down, and his gaze has not left my neck.

“Now that’s a good girl,” he says, and then hooks two fingers into the ring on the collar and uses it to yank me back into him. I thud against his chest and he lifts my hips to settle me properly in his lap, while my hands flutter about his shoulders. I grit my teeth, misliking losing my balance, but as soon as I get settled Cardan rocks the hard length of himself into me and I'm off kitler again. His tail wraps tightly around the smallest part of my waist and steadies me.

Not to be outdone, I shove my hands into the black curls at the back of Cardan's head and grind down in his lap. The knife is still in my fist. Cardan gasps a little and his hips buck under me, responding automatically even as his eyes roll and his fingers twitch in the ring on my collar. I pull his hair harder, letting my nails dig into his scalp, and he uses the ring to tug my mouth back to his.

The kiss suprises me with its tenderness. It's a strange thing; I'm held in place and bound about the throat, yet he kisses me with sugar in his mouth. His hand curls around the front of the collar so that it tightens painfully at my neck, but his tongue is lush and lazy. And his hips roll under me like a current thirty fathoms deep.

Cardan's free hand slides between us, moving my skirts up so the fabric is not between us. I take my dagger and cut the cords of his breeches, and if the tip nicks the pale skin of his stomach it's only a sharp inhale through his nose that gives him away. Cardan shoves at the front of the trousers while I keep slashing the buttons of his ridiculous shirt. The ruffles fall open and it strikes me that my initial is so red against all that white. And then Cardan's pushing inside me.

We both still for a moment, while my body makes room for him. Our breathing is mismatched and our eyes flicker while we stare at each other. His eyes are more black than the night.

"Jude," he murmurs.

I glance down again, and the tip of my knife hits his skin. I make a tiny dash, and Cardan doesn't flinch. I do it again, and complete the letter 'D.' Cardan looks down slowly.

"What does it say?" he asks, unable to see so close to his chin.

"J. D.," I tell him. He looks up sharply.

"J. D. G.," he corrects me.

I don't know what appalls me more, that he's asking for this or that I want to do it. I oblige him, and carve one more letter in his flesh. Cardan shudders this time, and then sinks the rest of the way into me. I finally drop the dagger, and wrap my arms around his neck.

"My vicious love," he whispers, and moves in me so sweetly I can barely stand it.

I cling to him, bury my face in his neck and cross my ankles behind his back. Cardan keeps the skin at my shoulder between his teeth and moves my hips in slow circles, and the way he holds violence in one hand and honey in the other makes him feel all at once a mirror and a balm.

"Cardan," I breathe. I try to move faster on him but he's holding me too tightly. "Cardan I need..."

"What, little villain?"

"Harder," I whisper.

"What was that?"

"Harder," I say again, and I watch his pupils blow out as he hears me.

"You want it harder?" he echoes, and as I begin to nod he punches his hips up so fast it makes my teeth clack together. He grips my hips and slams into me, and it hurts in the best way possible.

"More?" he asks, and before I can reply he does it again. "Answer me, Jude." I try, but the breath keeps getting knocked from my lungs. "Use your words, my darling. Is this what you like, hm?"

"Yes," I manage. It's a moan, it comes out strangled. "Yes, just like... oh." Cardan grins with too many teeth and all of a sudden stops moving and falls back onto the sheets.

"Ride me then," he says.

The sudden movement has me falling forward and my palms hit his chest. He hold my hips down, pushes them forward and back and I don't need the encouragement. He's so deep inside me I can feel him in my stomach and I lean forward so that I'm getting friction on my clit while I fuck him. My fingers dig into his muscles and smear the crimson letters under the hollow of his throat. Cardan lifts to meet me and his nails scratch angry lines down my thighs. He groans long and low, and the sound of it is the most obscene delicacy I want to never stop swallowing.

"You're so good," he tells me. "Who the fuck taught you to be this good?"

"My previous lover," I answer, and receive a sharp slap across my hip for the daring. I slap him back, hitting him in his left pectoral and faster than blinking I am flipped onto my back while Cardan's still inside me.

"Liar," he says, and holds me down as he takes control. His hand is so big that his thumb touches one of my ear lobes and the tip of his index finger covers the other, while the rest of his fingers curl around my throat. The collar actually prevents me from being choked too hard, but his weight has me pinned so that I can barely move. He keeps fucking me, faster now that he's on top, and my hands slide up his arms. He grabs a hold of my wrists with his other hand and holds them down too, and all I can do is dig my knees into his ribcage as he shifts into a hungry frenzy that's making it hard to draw breath.

"Cardan..." I whimper. It's such a pathetic sound I almost hate that I sound like this in bed. But my husband thinks differently.

"Say it again," he says hoarsely. I shake my head, and press my lips together. Cardan lets go of my throat and pushes his thumb into my mouth and onto my tongue. Hooks it behind my bottom teeth and tugs my mouth open.

"Say my name again."

He moves the thumb to my clit, and as soon as he touches me, the pleasure ratchets up unbearably.

But I am silent, and he shakes me by the neck so the buckle behind my collar rattles. My newly freed hands grip the headboard as he fucks me harder. His thumb keeps moving and I'm quickly losing control.

"Say my fucking name when you come."

"Cardan," I gasp. "Cardan, Cardan..."

"That's it honey," he croons. His pace is steady now and I'm so close. "Good girl. You can come now, little liar. Come with my name in your mouth."

And I break open, so obedient to the command of the King that perhaps I'd be embarrassed, if I hadn't decided that the King making me come this hard wasn't an act of service itself. As it is, my toes curl and my back arches and the bright heat of my climax sweeps through my fragile, mortal body. And Cardan has to wait for me to come first and that's delightful.

"Fuck Jude..." he moans.

And just as he begins to lose it I say, "Wait." For no other reason than my own amusement.

Cardan freezes, and then lets out a frustrated groan against my neck. I smile, count to five, and then relent.

"Okay, you can come."

Cardan growls and immediately resumes his mad rhythm, making me gasp at the blinding pace he sets. I'm oversensitised from having just come, and the second orgasm hits me moments before he's shuddering into me, snapping and snarling as I'm filled up.

I hold onto the lean muscle of his body and I can feel his racing pulse everywhere while he catches his breath. Fae heartbeats are quick and light, and it's like a hundred moths in the cavity of his chest.

When he rolls over, he pulls me with him, and I scrape my canines over his shoulder once he's collapsed onto his back. After a minute, his fingers come up and trace feathery patterns over my spine. He turns his head without opening his eyes, and presses his lips to my hair.

"Thank you, my sweet torment," he says.

"For what, husband?"

"For wearing my name around your neck."

I nuzzle into his side.

"I think I like it," I confess. The corner of his mouth curls, and he fingers the ring in my collar.

"I like it a lot," he tells me.

"And my name?" I ask him. "Do you like there on your chest?"

Cardan sighs.

"My dear nemesis," he says. "I've always had your name under my skin."

***

Oh shit it's been a hot minute, I posted this and then realised i forgot to do the master list tag list thing

JURDAN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @swankii-art-teacher @loosingdreamss @feysand-loml @cityofbookishthings @story-scribbler @thebonecarverer @realbookloverproblemss @elessar-writings @euclavender

#tfota #jurdan #jurdan fic #judecardan

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charincharge · 10 months ago

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every once in a while at random times and places something sparks in my brain and I remember kiss and cry and I just wanted to let you know how desperately I wish to read another chapter like respectfully please. But I also understand and take your time. I just wanted to let you know that I love it and am obsessed and yeah have a lovely day.

OMG this message just made my night. ILY. Thank you so much. I haven’t forgotten about them, and there’s not even that many chapters left in my outline… I miss those idiot sluts.

#kiss and cry #Jurdan fic

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viivdle · 8 months ago

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this happened

and i totally don't have a fic abt it.. cough bloodshed, crimson clover cough

#cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #jurdan #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #the folk of the air #tfota #tfota memes #holly black #holly blacj #jurdan fic #jurdan fanfic #tfota fic #tfota fanfic #the court of shadows #<3

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ur-mousey · 8 months ago

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I'll Make You Miss Me ~

Imagine - Jude Duarte x Singer! Cardan Greenbriar (Song inspo linked ⬇️)

Imagine! Cardan Greenbriar, the High King of Elfhame, sitting alone on his throne. The crown made of thorns felt heavy upon his head, a constant reminder of who he'd banished. The grand hall emptied of its accord. However, in the wake of their presence, where diplomats lose their inhibition at his feet, Cardan never felt more abandoned.

He was without Jude, his wife, whom he had sentenced to a mortal life. She was his beautiful and most terrifying love, but Cardan knew deep down that she belonged elsewhere from this place.

It was selfish of him to believe otherwise. She was a queen, robbed of her status by her wicked king. Why would she return for him?

Imagine! It has been months since Cardan's riddle went unsolved. He drove himself mad, over-analyzing why his letters were left discarded. He left himself painfully sober for days. Torturing himself to come up with a lure. He missed her lying whims. I hate you, were her whispers of promise. He hated that their marriage started on a sour note.

Cardan never even came close to matching her strength. What if she wholly decided to leave Elfhame and him entirely? He doubted that age would fog his memories of her. And, even if it would be fatal to resist, he vowed to cradle his obsession between the pages of Alice in Wonderland as he had done through their childhood.

Imagine! Living through boring meetings where thoughts of Jude pressed heavily on your mind. The surrounding diplomatic dribble was doomed to fall on deaf ears.

Cardan sought distractions from his quill and parchment whenever his emotions overwhelmed him. He felt the constant restlessness of yearning for Jude's return. It was a feeling that gnawed at him day in and day out until he could take it no longer. Down in this cellar, where his love became realized, he could hardly but briefly assume that his wife would come to protect him from his woes.

"Jude's absence makes you worry." The Bomb noted as she stirred her brandy lazily. Her voice rang sympathetic and in tune with the ice cubes clinking against glass. Cardan halted his shuffling of cards, the room's silence now keenly felt.

Cardan dealt the cards with ease and confidence among the Court of Shadows, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. "I'm obvious, aren't I?" he quipped as if talking to no one in particular. However, his mirth quickly faded as he continued, "Jude hasn't yet responded to a single letter of mine. I'm afraid."

The Roach hummed, reaching for his cards. "If letters don't reach her, your voice will."

Imagine! Despite the dark circles under her eyes caused by sleepless nights, Jude forced herself to get up from the couch and walk to the window. She craved the fresh air to clear her mind and drive away her growing hatred towards everything related to Elfhame.

"I'll make you miss me~" The haunting melody danced over the bend of the wind. She recognized the voice of Cardan singing the tune and the realization that he was desperate. The thought both excited and frightened her.

youtube

.............................. Thank you for reading! Request rules are here! I am currently taking in ideas 🥳 This idea has been shoved to the back of my mind so I'm glad to have written it. Holly Black stated that Valerian has sexual feelings towards Jude...

#Youtube #jude x cardan #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #cardan is obessessed #music video #i'll make you miss me #fanfic #realizing that Valerian was sexually into Jude changed my brain chemistry #angst fic #tfota #jurdan #jurdan fic #cardan greenbriar #jude durate

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aiiidoneus · 1 year ago

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fic idea that i prob won't use:

song fic from jude's pov after a fight with cardan (i'd imagine it's really angsty) following the storyline of so much wine by phoebe bridgers

#the folk of the air #tfota #jurdan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #fic ideas #fanfic ideas #idk if this has been done before but i heard the song and this came to me in A Vision #jurdan fic #Spotify #aiiidoneus

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sophiekarim · 2 years ago

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So did anyone ever get round to writing this? I’m jurdan fic deprived 😭

Someone needs to write an explicit version of that “I did it to get it out of my system” “and is it out of your system?” scene from The Wicked king. Like.. what if J said no?

UPDATE: Guess I’m not the only one who wants this 😂😂

#and is it out of your system?#jude x cardan #cardan x jude #jurdan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #holly black #jurdan fic #tfota #tfota fic #the folk of the air #the folk of the air fic #twk #the wicked king #twk fic

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jurdanhell · 2 years ago

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if you’re still taking prompt requests for jurdan, could you do number 25 from the hurt/comfort list you posted? thank you ♥️

what is a secret, but not a promise?

Read it on AO3!

Word Count: 1,281

The moon was full of secrets. Scandalous and forbidden, everything desirable happened at night. Shadows dipped between each other along the ground, dancing as if made from candlelight as the moon cast her gaze to the Earth. Praying, believing, sacred gaze pressed to the soil so surely she need not worry about what became of her confidences when her lover vibrantly lit the sky.

Cardan slipped from his bed sheets, careful not to wake his wife, who must have snuck beneath the covers sometime after he’d fallen asleep, waiting on her to retire. He tugged the hem of his shirt tight around his waist, willing the crown of sweat on his brow to disappear.

He stood, overly aware of the cold floor beneath his bare feet as he made his way to the window, leaning against the stained glass. It cast beautifully when the curtains had been pulled back to let in the late afternoon light, bringing warm, colourful shapes to the ceilings, the walls, decorating the whole room. Now, they were drawn shut and tight so they might sleep. He leaned against a column where the curtains were parted, peeking around the fabric to look at the coloured glass. And then, out.

The sun crested over the horizon ahead, and the moon made way for his arrival. Cardan glanced back at his wife, at her braid dripping down the side of the bed, now long enough to nearly touch the floor. At the way she curled into the empty space beside her where he had been. One of her hands stretched into the expanse, searching. She didn’t wake.

He pushed open their bedroom doors and crept to the sitting room, stealing a book from an end table he’d left it on haphazardly hours ago, when he had inevitably become distracted by his wife’s curious hands. She’d felt her way down his spine, lower, and they’d whispered promises to each other in the darkness before she’d kissed his cheek and assured him that she’d come back after a meeting with her spies.

He’d waited for her return as the moonlight softened, making room for morning, even as his eyelids grew heavy and he could no longer keep them open. Cardan crossed the sitting room to the bay window, cushioned with ornately embroidered pillows, overstuffed with fluff and feather. He tossed them aside and rest his head against the window, squinting into the sky and searching.

He opened his book, page marked by a lace from one of Jude’s dresses. He’d tugged it once, and she’d pulled it free, tossing it at him and laughing. He tucked it into his pocket when he was sure she’d forgotten about it.

He thumbed through the deckled pages, breathing in the cool air that pressed against the window. It ran its fingers down his skin, raising gooseflesh along his arms, and he welcomed it.

His tail thrashed against the side of the lounge seat, coming to curl up around his ankle when he could not blink away a memory. There, and then gone. The very thing that had woken him, and he could not even remember it. Could not will it back into existence, though it haunted him like any true spectre.

The morning would not vanish his penchant for nightmares, but it could not summon them, either. It was a secret’s job to be kept, to remain, drinking in the moonlight in all their debauchery. But there were bad secrets, too. Nasty ones, that ought to remain in the foulest places, so you might never look for them. Secrets to be buried, and forgotten. Perhaps that was what the moon had been praying for.

Jude padded across the floor quietly and came to rest upon the opposite end of the window seat. She frowned, blinking away her exhaustion as Cardan gave her a soft smile, and opened his arms. She twisted, laying against his chest and looked out the window. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand resting across her center to hold up the book, the other going to her hair.

She was nearly asleep again by the time she remembered what she’d come out to find him for. “What’s wrong?” She asked, voice thick with sleep.

He rest his chin on the top of her head. “What makes you think something’s wrong?” He was grateful, for once, that she was not, could not, look at him.

“You’re reading,” she said, blinking hard as if to wake herself.

He huffed a soft laugh. “I assure you,” he said. “This is no new habit of mine.” He swallowed thickly and hoped she hadn’t heard it.

She inhaled deeply and sat up, turning back to face him again. Yawned. “I’m going to ask you how you are,” she whispered. The hair on Cardan’s arm stood on end again. “And I would like you to answer me honestly.”

He nearly huffed at the last amendment. As though he could do anything else. Instead, she had meant the fullness of the truth, the lack of evasion. For better or for worse, she would get it out of him at some point. At least he’d stopped sweating.

He let the book fall open on his lap and spoke before she could ask again. “I had a nightmare,” he said. “I’m fine, now.” It could not have been a lie. Jude raised a brow, assessing. Surely, she’d rooted out how fickle of a word fine could be.

“Do you always read at the break of dawn?” She asked instead.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “No, but sometimes I would read through it, and into the late afternoon hours.” She looked at him incredulously. “I seem to make a habit of willingly forgetting.”

She leaned against the window. “Come back to bed,” she whispered. “It’s late.” Maybe this was a promise, too.

Cardan looked down to the book in his lap, at the passage highlighted that he’d reread so many times he wondered if the words were engrained in his eyes. When she said nothing, he read aloud. “Ah, love may be strong,” he whispered to her. “But a habit is stronger.”

She took the book from his hands and set it aside as she stood. Pulled him to his feet and wrapped her arms around his waist. Pushed his damp curls back from his face. Pressed a kiss to his temple.

“What was it about?” She asked. A line appeared between her brows, and it took him great restraint to not reach down and smooth it away with his thumb.

“I don’t remember,” he said. “Only that it was terrible.” She said nothing, so he continued into the silence. “For a moment, I revisited every time I closed my eyes as if a memory. Some integral part of me. And now, I know not what it was, only that it may never leave.”

She shook her head and pulled him close. “We get to decide the parts of us that we keep.” Her hands came to rest gently on his stomach, reached for his hand, and pulled him to their room. “What we do not like, we cast aside. We are stronger when we reforge ourselves, I think.”

Jude tugged him onto the bed, and curled him gently into her chest. His ear came to rest against her heartbeat, and he made no secret of listening intently to it for a moment. “A habit is stronger,” he continued from the passage, “and I knew when I loved by the way I behaved.”

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, stroking loving shapes along his spine.

“You’re my favourite habit,” he said into the darkness.

Masterlist

i start therapy tomorrow and if i die, i die

Tag List:

#prompt by creativepromptsforwriting #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #tfota #the folk of the air #jurdan fic #tfota fic #tcp #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #cardan #jude #jurdanhellwrites

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its-ya-boi-kaz · 2 years ago

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I'm so soft for it every time a character calls their lover "angel" or "sunshine" and their lover is literally a dark edge lord self-destructive menace to society who has committed more crimes than countable

#i just read a fic of sherlock calling liam angel #beautiful #show stopping #toe curling #i have ascended #satosugu #gojo x geto #satoru x suguru #sherliam #sherlock x moriarty #sherlock x william #jurdan #kanej #helnik #wesper #buddy daddies #kazurei #kazuki x rei

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lidiasloca · 2 years ago

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the joker and the queen

jude x cardan

post-queen of nothing

cardan's pov

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

"I might have the king." Jude smirks to herself as she raises the bet.

I stare down at my hand—a miserable one, if I’m being honest. Still, I could make something work if the king of hearts showed up on the River.

But of course, the very card I need is likely resting in her hand, leaving my fortune in her grasp.

"I hate this game," I mutter, both in words and with the irritated look on my face.

"Don’t be a sore loser," she teases, and if my queen weren’t wearing that infuriating yet irresistible smile—one I suspect I’ve taught her myself—I’d remind her of the inherent advantage she holds in this so-called "poker, Jude's version," complete with rules she and her sisters invented.

Rules I barely understand, courtesy of a rushed, one-minute explanation before the game began.

"I haven’t lost yet, love," I say, grabbing her wine glass since mine is already empty. I take a sip, one I desperately need.

Naively, I match her raise. Roach, who we’ve roped into dealing, flips the final card.

No king.

Which means: I have nothing. I lose. Jude wins. And mercifully, the game is over.

She sets down her cards with a triumphant flourish, revealing the king that pairs with the queen of hearts already on the table—a pair that, according to Duarte’s rules, is unbeatable.

"Yes! I knew you’d win," Taryn cheers from Jude’s side.

Unlike Jude’s poker partner, my teammate, Vivi, snorts in disapproval. "How are you so bad at this?" she asks, not for the first time.

We were paired together—yet another odd rule—and both Vivi and Taryn had already lost, leaving Jude and me as the last players standing.

"It’s not as if you did any better," I shoot back, watching Roach drag away the pile of our team's money—"The Immortals with a Weakness for Mortals," as Vivi so lovingly named us.

"Don’t be too hard on my king, will you?" Jude says, grinning at me.

The way she says "my king" sends a warm, familiar sensation through me, even if she’s clearly mocking me. "He’s not that bad. I’m just that good," she adds with a chuckle, making me laugh despite myself.

As Taryn collects their winnings, I rise from my seat and walk over to Jude.

Around the table, everyone pauses to watch: Roach, the Bomb, Taryn with the Ghost, Vivi beside Heather, and others who were observing the game. I don’t care.

I stand beside her, looking into her deep, brown eyes, and offer her my hand.

To my surprise, she takes it without hesitation, her warm, tanned fingers curling into my cold, pale ones. She rises gracefully from her chair, lips parting in mild surprise. The teasing smile she wore a moment ago is gone, replaced by something softer. Her green silk dress, the one I picked for her—with her permission, of course—flows elegantly as she steps closer to me.

"Where?" she whispers, just for me, her breath sending goosebumps down my neck.

"Wherever."

I suddenly remember the eyes still on us, and so does Jude. She turns to Vivi, who’s now smirking as if she’s discovered our deepest secrets.

I snort, turning Jude’s face back to me with a gentle hand on her chin. I ask her again, this time with my eyes. She nods, her mischievous grin returning as I smile at her.

With her hand still in mine, I take a step back, never breaking eye contact. Everything else fades—except for Taryn’s incredulous, almost disgusted grimace as Vivi whispers something in her ear. Knowing Vivi, I probably don’t want to know what she said.

We leave the room and step into a quieter, more private space. I finally turn around to walk properly when Jude pulls me back, stopping me from crashing into a cabinet. A drink cabinet, to be exact—lucky me.

I kneel, retrieve her favorite bottle, and stash a couple of juice boxes in my pocket for good measure.

"What did you take?" she asks, as I stand and take her hand again. I ignore the question and start heading for the exit, but something stops me at the door.

I can hear the faint sound of the revel’s musicians outside.

"Wife, I have no heart for the party," I confess. I should. I’m the one who arranged it, after all. But ever since I woke from that nightmare earlier, the night has felt off. The party’s in full swing now, and there’s no undoing that, but there is another option—this quiet moment away from it all.

Jude looks at me with those soft, caring eyes—eyes I didn’t even know she had until a few months ago, when we finally dropped our armor around each other.

"Husband," she says, lifting a hand to stroke my cheek. I cherish these rare moments of tenderness from her, treasuring every one. "May I remind you that you’re the High King? If you don’t want to go, then don’t."

I smile, handing her the juice box I’d stashed away. As we both open our drinks, I continue, "And since you’re the queen—"

"The High Queen," she corrects me, smirking over her straw.

I laugh. "Yes, sorry, the High Queen. And since you’re the High Queen, you get to decide what we do instead of going to the party."

She bites her lip, pretending to think about it. "I want..." she says, trailing off as if I should already know.

"Mmm," she grins, and I grin back. I know that look all too well.

"That's what you want?" I ask, watching her expression closely. She nods, and I can’t help but smile wider as I start walking with her again.

"Why are you so happy about it?" she asks, feigning mockery. "I thought you hated Duarte’s poker."

Wait—what?

"Poker?" I repeat, incredulous. "That’s what you want to do? Again?" I sigh, shaking my head. "I thought—never mind."

But she starts laughing—full, unrestrained laughter—and I can’t help but smile too, even though I try not to.

"Okay, love, stop. It’s not that funny," I say, my attempt at a serious face failing miserably.

"You’re funny," she says, though I know she means I’m ridiculous, not amusing. "Sorry," she adds, raising an apologetic hand as her laughter dies down into a smile.

I stare at her with exaggerated judgment, which only makes her chuckle more. "I do hate Duarte’s poker," I confess, though she already knows that. "But I find it funny how terrible you are at cheating when you steal and hide cards."

"Hey! That’s not true." Jude pretends to be offended. "You really think I’m bad at it? No one’s noticed."

I laugh, pulling her closer by the waist. "Well—" I pause, reaching into the secret pocket in her dress and pulling out a hidden card. "I noticed."

She gasps, smirking. "Are you always watching me like a creep?"

"No," I say, caressing her cheek. "Not like a creep."

She grins, pulling out yet another hidden card from a pocket I didn’t even know existed. This one is the king of hearts.

"You," I say, staring down at her in amused disbelief.

"Yes," she admits with a satisfied smirk. "I stole this one too."

Of course she did. And the irony—that she once again holds the king of hearts—makes me smile like an idiot.

-Characters by Holly Black

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