#tfota prompts

[skullywullypully]

Imagine Cardan and Jude reading manga in bed. Like after doing all of their royal duties, they retire to their bedroom, get in bed, and crack open some berserk manga.

[the-badger-mole]

I know I'm super late, but I saw you were doing those sick fic asks last week. Can you do one for Jude and Cardan where Jude is sick? Maybe this line:

“You’re sick, so you have to listen to me today.”

Oh, heck yeah! Absolutely.

The first year of Cardan's reign seemed to consist mostly of parties and revels. One bled into another until Jude couldn't even separate the dancers into individuals as they whirled around to the music. The candlelight didn't help. It only gave the entire hall a hazy dreamlike quality that made Jude feel as though she'd had too much wine, even though she hadn't had any. It was also unusually hot tonight.

"If they only knew at whose command they danced," Cardan murmured snidely. His voice hit Jude's ear strangely, as if he had spoken from a distance. The words themselves didn't even register.

"Yeah," she replied mostly out of an obligation to respond to being spoken to. Another night, perhaps, she would be more cautious about answering yes or no to questions she didn't understand. Cardan turned to her and studied her face, as if seeing her standing beside him for the first time.

"Are you alright?" he asked. That Jude heard. She blinked rapidly, coming back to herself.

"I'm fine," she said.

"You're flushed," Cardan's hand came up as if he were going to touch her face. "Too much wine?"

"Haven't had any." Jude sighed and leaned against the throne. She was rapidly losing the energy for this conversation. She longed to slip away and go to bed, but she didn't dare leave Cardan to his own devices. Not so soon after Mother Marrow had nearly tricked Cardan into marrying her daughter. All she needed to do was keep him out of trouble for another few hours. Then she would try to get a full seven hours of sleep. She would have Tatterfell bar anyone from bothering her. That would make her happy, Jude thought. Maybe she'd even get the chance to snap at High King Cardan himself. That would make Tatterfell's entire year.

Cardan stood suddenly, startling Jude out of another daze and drawing the eye of all the revelers.

"I grow bored," he announced. "You may continue this drudgery without me." He motioned for his guards, and the Roach and the Ghost materialized at his side. Cardan took a few steps away from the dais when he looked back at Jude, frown still on his face. "Aren't you coming, Seneschal?"

"Oh, yeah," Jude muttered. She fell into step behind Cardan with the Roach and the Ghost bringing up the rear. The Bomb was already at the door waiting for them. Every step for Jude was beginning to feel like a struggle. Her tired legs felt as if they were moving through thick mud, but somehow she managed to keep pace with Cardan until they were out of the dance hall and in a comparatively empty corridor. Her steps slowed noticeably. The Ghost raised a brow, eyeing her with concern. Jude tried to say she was okay, but suddenly even that was too much effort. The floor rocked violently beneath her feet, although none of her companions seemed to notice. What they did notice, though, was the way she clutched at the wall as her legs finally gave up.

"Jude!" someone, she wasn't sure who, cried out. She was half-way to the floor when she was caught up in someone's arms. Then she was looking into Cardan's dark eyes. There was an expression there she hadn't seen since the night she took him hostage.

"Has she been poisoned?" the Roach asked.

"I can't tell," the Bomb said. "I need to get her where I can examine her."

"Is there a tunnel near here?" Cardan asked sharply. "One that will get us close to her rooms?"

"I'm fine," Jude said. "I was just dizzy." No one acknowledged her. They were too busy trying to inconspicuously access a hidden tunnel before too many people saw the King of Elfhame cradling his seneschal. When the mercifully cool air of the tunnel hit Jude's overheated skin, it gave her enough of a boost to try again.

"I'm okay," she said, wincing at the growing tickle in her throat. "I'm not poisoned. I just had a dizzy spell. I can walk now."

"Oh really?" Cardan scoffed. He set Jude on her feet. She was steady, but her limbs felt heavy and she dragged her feet. After she'd taken a few steps, Cardan snorted with disgust and swept her up in his arms again.

"Woah!" Jude gasped. "I said I can walk."

"We'll get to your rooms faster if you don't," Cardan retorted.

"I could take her if-" the Roach started to say. Cardan turned to him with an absolutely murderous look, though, and he shut his mouth.

"I don't know of any poison that would do this," the Bomb said. "She's probably just sick." Jude scowled in her direction, unable to see well between the dim light and pounding in her head.

"I am not sick," Jude snapped. "I just didn't get much sleep the last few days."

"I'm sure," the Bomb said. "And when is the last time you ate?"

"Who made you my mom?"

"Well, you made me king, so I'm pulling rank," Cardan said. "If you're sick, you're not leaving your rooms until you're well."

"I'm not sick." Jude ran out of energy to continue fighting after a moment and dropped her head onto Cardan's shoulder. He flinched when her forehead grazed his cheek.

"She's feverish," he told the Bomb.

"We'll have to send for some medicine. There are human physicians in the palace, right? They'll know what she needs." The Bomb began discussing Jude's care with Cardan, which Jude found irritating. They were discussing her as if she wasn't there.

"I just need to sleep," she said to no one in particular. " 'm okay." Sleep was indeed stealing over her. Between the soft murmur of voices around her, the steady rocking of Cardan's gait, and her fever, Jude was already fast asleep by the time they made it to her room.

But wait! There's more! Read the longer version here

[ash-or-somethings]

Jude: I've wanted to say this for awhile now, and I can't hold it in any longer. I have feelings for you, Cardan.

Cardan: You...you do?

Jude: Yes. Feelings of disgust. Feelings of loathing. Feelings of hate. You know. All the bad ones.

Cardan: Oh

[jurdanhell]

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:

@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

[gergthecat]

PSA

If anyone (especially moots) wants to send me an ask with a fic request, I would be more than happy to write it!!

I don’t just write AC (contrary to popular belief), and I’ll write for pretty much any book or other media that I have consumed.

What I really need is prompts because I AM OUT OF IDEAS.

[the-badger-mole]

Well, now that I put it in my head, I really do think it's time for another prompt ask game. Send me prompts for ATLA, Sailor Moon, and for the first time ever TFotA!

Caring for Someone Sick and Reluctant Prompts

“You don’t owe me. I’m doing this because I care.”

“I know you think you can care for yourself, but I’m helping you anyways, so deal with it.”

“Stop grumbling and just tell me where your medicine cabinet is.”

“What kind of soup do you want me to get from the store? And don’t say ‘none’.”

“And I thought you were whiney when you weren’t sick!”

“Please just let me make you tea.”

“I don’t care if I get sick, just let me cuddle with you. It might make you feel better!”

“I told my friends I was busy taking care of my sick significant other today, so I will be doing just that!”

“I am not babying you, I’m showing you I care!”

“Oh stop your complaining and just get in the bath.”

“I thought I told you to stay in bed while I get you medicine!”

“Why are you so insistent on not listening to my orders?”

“You’re sick, so you have to listen to me today.”

“I know it’s hard for you to be the one getting bossed around today, but you have to deal with it.”

“If the reason you’re being difficult is because you feel bad then don’t - I’ll make you take care of me when I inevitably get sick from taking care of you.”

“You’re being extra difficult today.”

“Aren’t you like…tired? Stop putting up a fight!”

“You’ll either take this medicine or I’ll lock you in your room until you’re better.”

[huyaoxiaozi]

       HUYAOZIAOZI — a highly selective, private and mutuals only portrayal of Mun "Zane" Zi Yung ( 敏 姿 鑫 ), a fandomless crime-based ORIGINAL CHARACTER. 21+ partners only, minors will be soft blocked. Various modern, historical and fantasy-focused verses, such as the Grishaverse, Peaky Blinders, TFOTA and more! LOW TO MEDIUM ACTIVITY. Multi-para and/or novella focused. My name’s Mars, pronouns are he/him, 25+. This blog contains very mature themes, which I will do my best to tag accordingly. Such themes include, but are not limited to: gang violence, torture, cult-like brainwashing / manipulation and human trafficking. Interact at your own discretion. I AM LOCKED INTO THE BETA EDITOR AND I UTILIZE TRIM REBLOGS. Purity / callout culture is not welcome here, period. This is meant to be a safe space to unwind and escape real life. Fictional characters are not real. Fiction is not real. Fiction =/= reality. PLEASE READ THROUGH THE CARRD BEFORE APPROACHING. Partnered with @feilien Highly affiliated with @alreadybrcken TRACKING: # huyaoxiaozi               CARRD | PROMPTS / MEMES | PROMO other blog(s): @thiefofcrows

[the-badger-mole]

“And I thought you were whiney when you weren’t sick!” for Jurdan please!

By now I am used to making Cardan's excuses to the Living Council. For once, there is no pressing issue for them to try and tie me down with, and I am able to slip out just ten or so minutes after I'd arrived. I leave them grumbling and complaining amongst themselves. On another day, I might be worried at what sounds like a mutiny stirring up behind me, but today, I am too distracted. And annoyed.

I had told the Council that Cardan was feeling unwell, and I wasn't lying. The Bomb had arrived to my chambers just after sunset to tell me that Cardan had been telling everyone who would listen that he feared he was dying. The way the Bomb had rolled her eyes, I knew she had come to the same conclusion I already had, but still, I let her lead me to his rooms. Once I've checked on him I go back to my room for supplies, delivering the bad news to the Council on my way back to him.

"My dear Seneschal," Cardan groans when I walked back into his room. "I'm afraid I won't be your puppet king for much longer. I'll die ere long. My head is pounding so hard and my eyes feel as if they will fall from their sockets. It'll be a gruesome death, no doubt."

"Good grief," I roll my eyes at him. "Get a grip, Cardan. You're fine. Geeze, I thought you were whiny on a good day." Cardan eyes me with a sneer.

"I suppose it's expecting too much of your cold heart to show me any sympathy even on my death bed."

"You're not dying," I retort, pouring water into one of the crystal glasses at his bedside. "You've got a hangover. Which at this point you should be used to. How much did you drink last night to get you in this state?"

"Sadly, not enough to stop myself from dreaming," Cardan sighed. 'I may be dreaming even now." I reach into my pocket for the aspirin I'd gotten from my room and hold them out to him.

"Take these."

"What is it?" he asks, eyeing the tablets suspiciously.

"Medicine, to stop your eyes from falling out," I say dryly. He still hesitates, so I sit beside him and take his hand. He doesn't resist when I drop the two tablets in his hand. "They won't hurt you. Drink this." I hand him the cup of water to wash the pills down.

Cardan finally tosses the pills into his mouth, wincing at the bitterness of the uncoated pills before gulping down the water. I pour him another cup and urge him to drink more water. The third time I reflill the glass, I leave it on his bedside table.

"Drink lots of water today," I advise. "It'll help with the headache." He's looking at me strangely when I turn back to him. His hand is idly tracing my fingers. Suddenly, I am thrown back into the memory of the last time I was in this position, leaning over him while he reclines on a bed. How he'd asked me to kiss him. He has that same look in his face now.

"I'm still not sure," he says, "that I'm not still dreaming." His hair falls messily into his eyes, and I have to fight the urge to push it back. I don't fight hard enough, because my hand moves of its own accord, and Cardan goes still. I reach out and pinch his arm. It wasn't a hard pinch, but it's enough to make Cardan flinch and cry out in protest.

"Why-?"

"See? You're awake," I assure him, jumping off the bed. I try not to look like I'm fleeing the room. At the door I can't resist a last look at him. He really does look pitiable, his pale form surrounded by dark blankets on a bed big enough for a whole family. "I'll come check on you in a little while. To make sure you haven't died on me."

"I wait with bated breath," he says, glaring at me. "I owe you for that pinch." I school the smile that tries to form on my face into a smirk as I leave.

[thecardiganunderthebed]

who's afraid of little of me

Jude still remembers the look Locke gave her before she almost took his life. It angers her, but then again, there is little about Locke that doesn't anger her. But that moment of surprise is what sends her seething. The way he looked up in surprise wasn't because she had betrayed him. It was because she had betrayed him. Oh, how could she ever? Poor mortal Jude, willing to risk so much for a man she once thought had loved her. Her fragile poor heart has been absolutely torn and raptured into pieces. “If you hurt me, I wouldn't cry. I would hurt you back.” He must never have believed her when she said that.

Or when she was a spy under the prince who could have ruled and not a single person suspected her of it. How could they? How could a fragile little mortal do anything or have any impact on the royal landscape? "You're no killer". The man who had played father had told her that long enough in more ways than one. Was that the tipping point? The one entity that sent her over the edge? Was being told she was not a killer the very thing that made her one? She will never know because she has learnt to not ponder.

if you wanted me dead, you should've just said. nothing makes me feel more alive

She must add the look Cardan gave her when he was crowned High King to list of looks she will never forget. But she had grown past that. It was the eyes that lingered after that became more memorable. The daggers made it clear that she was believed an incompetent seneschal. The heady feeling hit when she realised the simple principle of what can they do. Manipulate Cardan? Talk him into an idea? Twist his views to agree with theirs? They could, but what they wouldn't realise is she had already done every one of those things and there was nothing they could do about it now. Not for a long, long time. It was clear that many, including Macdoc, wanted her gone. The satisfaction is sweet when somebody wants you in your grave but you stand on their necks instead.

i wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me, you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

Her parents were killed and she was raised by their murderer. She was almost raped at fourteen. Manipulated. Hurt. Pushed down. Told repeatedly that no matter how good she was, no matter how much she tried, even if she bested them she would never be them or close to them in any criteria apart from cunning and wit, even then that would not be enough. In god's honest truth, she wanted to find one person in this world who thought she would turn out normal and unaffected and shake them until they told her why.

I was tame, I was gentle 'til the circus life made me mean

She had to keep her head down. Replying made it worse, fighting back could make it deadly. She wasn't a living breathing thing, she was a spectacle for any reveller to enjoy. Maybe if the sister that looked like what she could've been didn't hurt her, she would be more like her. Maybe if the sister who was part of the world she craved so deeply showed her that her methods of care weren't just a method of selfish self-serving altruism she wouldn't have become so self-reliant. Maybe if she hadn't grown around twisted ideas of love and happiness she would have found it earlier. But she had become the consequences of where she was, a fairytale land with the ideals of a Grimm brothers fairy tale. If she had to play the part of the spectacle, she would play it well. She had done too much to ever stop.

In the end, It all came down to proving the one thing she had vowed to do with all her conviction and remnants of a heart

“If I cannot be better than them, I will become so much worse.”

jude "who's afraid of little of me" duarte

jude "but my bare hands paved their paths" duarte

jude "if you wanted me dead, you should've just said. nothing makes me feel more alive" duarte

jude "i wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me" duarte

jude "you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me" duarte

jude "I was tame, I was gentle 'til the circus life made me mean" duarte

jude "you should be" duarte

[brackenferns]

❤️💛🤩

Ask game!

hi!!! I'm having so much fun with this ask game; thank you to all who've sent prompts!

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

I answered this one here <3

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

I have an emotional answer to this & a technical one. on an emotional level, the best lesson I've learned is that I can write. that may sound goofy, but as a late teen & young adult, I lacked confidence in my writing and hyper-focused on my weaknesses. I had a few wonderful teachers and profs who saw potential in me and encouraged me to pursue writing, which changed the course of my degree & career. it's good to be humble and have self-awareness about your areas that need growth, but it's also necessary to see & celebrate your strengths!

on a technical level, learning to work with (rather than against) my creative process has been huge. I talked about this here, so I won't repeat myself, but it's made such a difference in my ability to complete polished projects.

🤩 What led to your interest in the fandom?

when I was a kid, my best friend and I would spend hours talking about books during sleepovers. I think it's so human to want to connect over stories—especially stories that have impacted us.

in terms of online fandom, I only really started participating in late high school/early college. I've had a multi-fandom blog here on tumblr for years, but I mostly made memes & stayed out of discourse haha. tfota was the first online fandom space where I found myself really wanting to engage in a lot of the conversations happening, and when I started getting engagement on mniwyd, I started feeling like I was missing out on the community on tumblr!

[sommersong]

# SOMMERSONG.      simeon sommerfeld, selective and private multi-verse  ORIGINAL CHARACTER. verses include: modern, generic fantasy, historical, grishaverse, fae / tfota, bg3 / dnd, dragon age, star wars, etc. originally est. 18 feb 2020.  mutuals only.  low activity.  adult themes may be present.  do not follow if you are under 21.  penned by  becks,  30+.

carrd. pinterest. prompts. also found at @vipier and @echospast.

[thequeenofnightmares]

Hi! By chance, do you accept prompt requests? I love your tfota stories and I think you've captured Jude and Cardan really well

Oh my gosh, thank you friend! And yes, I do! I’ll admit I’m slower at writing fics these days because I’ve been working on some original content, but I’m still writing them in my free time!

[cromulentreader]

It could be the story of how Oak came back to Elfhame. He was still in the mortal world when he was 11 and running away from Elfhame when he was 13 (after another assassination attempt). This was before the timeline Jude had in her mind for his glorious return. She wouldn't change the plan to something that would put Oak in danger - unless he was the danger.

If Oak did something severely concerning, Cardan would be less likely to go easy on Oak. First, because Jude has a blind spot for her siblings. Second point: Cardan possibly didn't have much connection to Oak besides blood and being a brother-in-law who lives far away. Cardan always described being awful and cruel as a choice, and he is a faerie. He wouldn't see Oak glamouring humans for his amusement as something as innocent or oh-so-natural as Jude put it during the trilogy.

This is not even going into how much Oak looks and sounds like Dain and Locke, acts like Madoc and was raised by Oriana (who had a big influence on Taryn). On the crowning Oak thoughts. It wouldn't surprise me if Cardan sees crowning Oak as crowning one of his siblings. And Jude giving the crown to Oak is just suicidal: many will want a former mortal queen dead for daring to rule over them; the land might grant her immortality. I've many other thoughts, but I'm going to stop the TED talk now.

Cardan in HTKOELTHS: yeah Oak is my wife's baby brother, sometimes when we visit her sister we'll see him and get dumplings or something

Oak in The Stolen Heir to Suren: my sister and her husband are great rulers, I hope they have a great life together :)

Oak in The Prisoner's Throne: Ah Cardan, yes the Cardan that hates me, I wonder if he has sent this device to kill me.

[thefolkofthefic]

Here’s one idea Post TWK Jude died in the mortal world and Cardan learned of it and in grief he travels back to time where his family was killed but before he made the promise with Jude he twist the events so he becomes king anyway but isn’t under Jude’s power. With the knowledge of the future he does everything to keep her safe and win her heart

👀

write it, motherfolkers!

Fae Prompt Friday.

[mmvalentine]

Jude finds Cardan's letters from qon??

Stay

I wake, not for the first time, with my hair wrapped around Cardan's fist.

The High King, of course, is deeply asleep, despite my yelp when I try to get up, only to fall back into bed, and utter a string of curses when I discovered the means of my entrapment.

I exhale through my nose and work on detangling myself from my slumbering spouse. I don't bother trying to rouse him- not after last time, when I punched him in the ribs and all he did was yank me back into him and fall promptly asleep once more. Funny how he does that- he seems to have so much difficulty falling asleep when he gets into bed, yet come morning he's dead to the world. I curse my mortal eyes for not being able to see better in the dark.

I wonder whether he steals my hair before he goes to sleep, or if he wakes in the middle of the night to do it. It's not every night, but it's often enough.

I wrest the last curl from Cardan's fingers and slide out of bed, tugging on a loose silk robe. It's early, much earlier than most fae are wont to rise. But Fand is not most fae.

Fand works harder than any of the other palace members, because she is young and sharp-tongued and constantly fighting to be taken seriously. It is something we understand in one another: that when people think you unworthy it is not enough to prove yourself as good as they are. You must be twice as good, and infinitely more wiley.

So although I now have spies and knights aplenty, it is Fand who meets me in the small hours to bring me secrets and tricks like a cat brings dead birds to its master.

Today she brings me a rectangular tin.

When I inspect its contents, I don't know what to say.

"What is this?" I breathe.

"I pulled it from Lady Asha's chamber, your Highness," Fand tells me.

I stare and stare and the pieces of parchment.

"Are these..." I swallow. "I thought she burned them."

"She destroys very little," says my knight. "The Lady makes a show of discarding things, but she hoards them all. I've been combing through her posessions for weeks now."

I didn't know she was doing that.

"I thought you might like to have these," Fand says softly.

I manage a small smile and a nod of gratitude, before the blue-skinned fae disappears down the corridor. When she is out of sight, I allow myself to sag against a wall.

It's Cardan's lost letters.

I sink to the floor, and take them out of the cigar box carefully. I read them all, several times over, and even now it unsettles me when Cardan is truly honest. Even now it shocks me to hear that he loves me. I run my fingers over the ink.

Come home... come home... come home.

In my most wretched hours, I believe you will never come back.

Please Jude.

My reverie is broken by the croaky caw of a bird outside, and I quickly place the letters back into the tin. Suddenly, I don't want Cardan to wake up in an empty bed. I close myself back in our chamber and slide the box into the drawer of my dresser.

I climb back into bed, and just stare at the ceiling while I try to get my hands to stop shaking.

I remember my exile all too well: it is the only time I think I've been out-schemed and it was not even the schemer's intention. And yet it is all too easy for me to forget that Cardan, weaned on cat's milk and scourge of his siblings, never wanted any part of it.

I roll onto my side with a sigh, and trace a finger over the boy-king's cheekbone. I don't want to wake him, and wouldn't know what to say to him if I did. He and I, we've never been gifted in telling our feelings outright.

In the end, all I can think to do is to uncurl his fingers, one by one, and put the length of my hair back in his hand. I wind it round and around his palm, just the way he had done it, and hope he knows it means I'm not leaving him, not now and not ever.

When I look up, Cardan's obsidian eyes are watching me.

I freeze, and feel my face flush. I'm scrambling for an explanation- if I tell him I've read his letters, he might think I'm laughing at him. If I don't tell him, I'll feel l've read something secret, something I wasn't supposed to. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Cardan keeps his eyes on mine and closes his fist. He moves slowly up onto his forearm and completes the last twists of my hair, until his knuckles reach the back of my head. He slides in close and uses my hair to tilt my face up to him, but even when his breath is ghosting my mouth he doesn't kiss me.

"Where are you going, Jude?" His voice is rough with sleep, and dangerously low.

"Nowhere," I breathe. "Not going anywhere." And then I remember I'm still wearing the robe that I hadn't gone to sleep in.

Cardan rolls us so I'm on my stomach, and his weight presses me into the mattress. He uses his handful of hair to pull my face up, and his nose traces the shell of my ear before his teeth hit my neck.

"No," he growls against my skin. "No you're not."

And then he flexes his hips against me and he's hard against my backside. My hands splay against the bed as I'm pulled up further by my hair, and the arch that's forced in my back is a warm ache.

"Gonna make you stay," Cardan mumbles, and before I can respond he puts his lips on mine. While his free hand slides up the satin of my dressing gown and his nails scratch the backs of my thighs, while he shoves a pillow under my hips so I'm tilted up toward him, while he tightens his grip on my hair so my scalp prickles; his mouth moves suprisingly softly. Our tongues touch over and over, and I moan against his lips when his moves my underwear to the side and his fingertips graze the heat of me. He settles his weight over my legs and kneads my ass in his hand.

It feels strange, that a moment ago I was reading Cardan's vulnerability on a page and now he's got me pinned to our bed. It makes me think about who really holds the power, at any one time, when both of us have been raised on trickery. I wonder if it would be different if I had gotten the letters when he sent them.

Maybe some tenderness shows on my face, because as I am thinking about this, Cardan yanks on my hair again and bites at my lips savagely. I cry out at the sudden pain but I can't move; he doesn't relax his hold as he pushes my robe up my back and rubs a hand down and back up the seam of me. The shudder that runs through me is entirely involuntary.

"Have to stay now, don't you?" Cardan croons. "Can't go anywhere while you're soaking wet like this." His words run together, sleep-slurred and heavy.

Before I can think to respond, Cardan is hot and hard and pressing naked against my entrance. And he's right, I'd never admit it but I'm wet from being held down, from the control trickling away from me.

"Cardan..." I gasp, but he just groans and pushes slowly forward. I want him to pause for a second, to let me adjust, but he's holding my hair so tightly there's no running away. I try to breathe but then Cardan's tongue is moving under my ear and his free hand has found my breast under my robe, and he's half way. His teeth graze my throat and catch at my shoulder, my lungs don't work and then he's bottoming out and his long exhale goes straight over my chest and makes my nipples peak.

"Breathe, Jude," he mutters, and I gasp. At the same time, Cardan pulls out and pushes back in, so I choke off again and when I breathe out it's a moan. Cardan buries his face in the crook of my neck and picks up a lazy, luxurious rocking that has my eyes sliding closed in pleasure.

"Stay with me," he whispers, so far under his breath I don't know if I'm supposed to hear it. He pushes down on the small of my back so he can get deeper, and the feeling of him is the only thing I know. "Shit, Jude..."

Cardan sits up a little, and lets go of only enough of my hair to loop it around my throat like a collar. His fingers scrape the back of my neck as he firms his grip, while his other hand holds my hip in place. My teeth click together audibly as he knocks into me harder, harder. I cry out, but Cardan just strokes my flank and doesn't let up.

"You can take it," he murmurs. "Come on honey, take more." I force myself to keep breathing, and when my muscles unclench I find he's right. Cardan groans and picks up his pace. He moves roughly, messily, and it's delicious. I remember a time when his experience far outstripped mine, and I prefer him open-mouthed and barely lucid like this.

Suddenly, Cardan lets go of my hair and pulls out of me. I'm desperately empty for just a second, before he turns me over on my back and then he's right there, above me and everywhere. His skin is so hot and it's all over me. His hands reach into my hair once again and tug painfully.

"Tell me," he says, with his forehead and nose crashing into mine. "Tell me you'll stay."

"I'm here," I tell him. He pushes into me, pressing my thighs apart and I moan as I'm made whole again.

"Stay," he begs. "Please Jude."

And the invocation of his unsent letters hurts my chest.

"I'll stay," I say. "I'm not leaving, I'm not ever..."

I don't finish my sentence, because Cardan's kissing me and he's so deep inside me I can't remember my name.

But Cardan does.

"Jude," he groans. His hips recollect their mad rhythm. "Jude, Jude, Jude...."

He locks his eyes on mine as he hooks a thumb over my bottom teeth.

"I need you to come," he says hoarsely. "I'm so close. I need you to."

He slides two fingers up my tongue, and then touches them to my clit. I buck involuntarily under the added sensation, and Cardan's lips curl at my reaction. He tosses damp curls out of his eyes, and moves his fingers while his hips punch against mine.

"Come on baby, come for me."

And sure enough my world starts to slide, Cardan slips from view but the feel of him between my legs only grows more intense and I would beg for mercy if only I could form words. His free hand finds my throat, and when he squeezes slightly I'm gone. My hands grab at nothing as my climax wrings me out, pulls my back up off the mattress and teases silent screams from my working mouth.

I drag air past my lips, and Cardan lets go of my throat. I think I'm coming down, but then he's only moving faster, more erraticly, and his hand hits the bed head as his breathing grows ragged. I can only push uselessly at his chest as I'm swept into the tide of his lust, until he's coming and I'm right there with him.

Cardan shudders hard into me and my eyes roll into my head. My surest weakness is my husband undone. I match him moan for moan and breath for breath, until he's collapsed against my chest and I can't tell whether the violent thudding is from his heartbeat or mine.

I'm suddenly so tired that I can't lift my eyelids. I just stroke the silky curls on the High King's head and hold my legs around his waist.

"Cardan?" I whisper eventually. He turns his liquid gaze up and I fall. "I'm staying, okay?"

Cardan doesn't say anything, just moves up my body and kisses me so sweetly you'd never know he's the wicked king of Elfhame.

****

Thank you darling for the Jurdan prompt, I'm so into them, and I'm sorry this took me one million years to write...

JURDAN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @swankii-art-teacher @loosingdreams @feysand-loml @cityofbookish @story-scribbler @thebonecarver @realbookloverproblems

[areptvclown]

A Strange New Scent pt.2

*I’d like to thank @nicolivesinbooks for asking the important question of how long until Jude notices? Answer: not that long. This should also be the end of this fic lol. However, it was meant to be a one shot so who knows right?

A Strange new scent: part 1 

I awoke feeling as though I slept most of the day. One swift glance to glass panes on my left told me it was morning still. Exhaustion lingered in my body still. I imagined it the way faint ripples echo in the water after you throw a rock in a lake. For all of my mortal existence I could not recall feeling this tired. Queenly duties have been strenuous as of late.

As I shifted my worn body upright, a slight knot twisted firm in gut. I shook it away, the quick movement and lack of hunger due to be the cause. I was greeted with a gentle breeze along my bare skin. That seemed to ease the tiny bout of nausea or it could be thanks to wafting scents of ginger, lemon, and peppermint. Strangely enough, every deep inhale I took of those smells eased the tight knot of nausea.

"My sweet villian." I turn to find Cardan sitting on the chaise near a table. A small tray of morning delicacies before us along with a pot of tea. My husband, it seemed prepared me a cup. It is now, I realize the source of that scent as I watch the swirls of steam rise and dance with one another above the porcelain cup. "You’ve slept well?"

I nodded "Yes. Though I could sleep the day away if we did not rule faerie."

He smiled knowingly to himself before beckoning me with an open palm, "Come wife."

Cardan had something to say, I realized. Usually I would bait him into saying it, but I was too tired and the illness in my belly would not wavery fully. Simply put, I was in no mood for once to goad him.

Shifting my weight once more to the edge of our bed. My feet touching the floor as I reached for spider silk robe hanging on a chair. A gift from Kaye. I remember Roiben's look of boredom when she beheld the item before me. Cardan enjoys it. He enjoys it more when I have just the robe on and and no more. Which is exactly what I am in the process of doing. I slid my arms into their place wrapping then tie loose around my waist.

I crossed the threshold, not caring how my hair looked as I reached for Cardan. My hand gliding over the cool metal of his rings then the warmed palm. His hand curled around mine while pulling me to his lap.

On the small silvered tray I noticed how simple the arrangement was. Biscuits, various jams, and berries mainly. All of it made that stomach knot to tighten more than it was. I opted for the tea, taking a long drag of the comforting scent before an equally long sip. Settling the cup down, I feel Cardan's arms wrap around me, pulling me flat to his chest. The tip of his nose brushes over my shoulder. He takes in a deep inhale just like I did with my tea. I can tell his smile into my skin is wide and glowing like the moon.

"That new scent of yours is stronger now." He murmurs lovingly. The heat of his breath against my neck.

I stilled.

I had forgotten. Before I fell into a deep slumber Cardan mentioned a new scent. To my knowledge of fae there were few reasons a mortals scent would change. Death, sickness depending on the severity, after being intimate, and, I swallowed hard at the final one, pregnancy.

Logistically speaking pregnancy could be an answer. I was not dying and even if it was due to passionate moments, Cardan knows that smell. For it to be sickness, my husband would not be happy and calm. No, he would been frantic and never leaving my side. I'd have to stab him to at least point he'd need aid just for moments of rest.

"Why would it be?" I question

A hand cups my jaw as he turns me to face him. His coal black eyes shine with what can only be described as pure happiness. "I think wife. You already know."

To my surprise, I do.

We have been married now for four years and have discussed the prospect of a child. I haven not been drinking moon tea as much anymore. Thinking over the past few weeks, how my breasts have felt tender and heavy. My tunics and pants fit tighter, I believed it to be bloating from my cycle coming up. Which is now dawning on me is late. However, due to my training regime is not fully surprising. The on coming nausea, the tiredness. It hits me then, the tea Cadrdan ordered; Peppermint, lemon and ginger all of which fight off sour stomachs.

Elation runs with abandon though me and I adjust myself in his lap, "I think I'm pregnant."

Cardan gives me a knowing look. My heart squeezes at the adoration in his expression. His hands find my hips. Not my hips. They land under my robe and over my flat stomach. His thumb sweeps around my navel. "There is no I think about it my sweet villain, my darling wife." He pauses lifting a ringed finger down from the bottom of my ear to my chin. I welcome to sensation and the gooseflesh that follow. "Though I'm surprised it took you this long to figure it out." He speaks in jest.

The softness in my face turns murderous. "Careful husband," I say in warning. "I have more reason to stab you now than ever."

He laughs the sound annoyingly joyous as his lips grace my temple. "I am looking forward to it. The reason." He rests his palms back on my belly. "And the stabbing."

My forehead rests against his. The news hasn't settled in me yet the way it has for him. Most likely will not until it is confirmed. Even so, he knows I'm thinking three words: So am I

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