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elane-in-the-shadows · 2 years ago

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Red Queen Fan Fiction - Off-Duty

February 2nd - Happy Birthday, Shade Barrow

A/N: This year, not fun edit-making but the finalization of the fic of pure self indulgence I laboured in love for 7 months. It was a marvellous joy, based on two old shit posts of mine (x y) I now offer to share to celebrate Shade’s birthday. (How much I enjoyed this, seven years after Glass Sword, shows me how much this character and couple still mean to me. Maybe I can believe in lasting love after all. For them.)

5504 words, it is long

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Off-Duty

The rain pounded a rhythm on the makeshift balcony roof both irritating and comfortable. The first because of its dissonance with the ball’s music wafting up, the latter as the sound was certainly more homely than the howls of the storm ruling the skies of the Monfort capital for the last days. It was its own kind of uplifting, despite the wetness and still dark horizon, that Shade gave up keeping Clara indoors and set up their picnic on the balcony. The light at least was shining in a warm red from the gathered night lights beside them, reflecting the colour of the rain protection foils above. To keep them dry, Shade had scavenged umbrellas, wires and canvas and fumbled them into the resemblance of a roof through some risky ledge gymnastics relying on his teleporting ability to save him in case of falling. He hoped the same ability made him fast enough to grab Clara should her constant, curious skygazing lead her to lean too far over the ledge. In fact, he didn’t trust on teleporting alone when it came to her, as he was too nervous to leave her out of his sight for a second too long and eat in peace.

He tried to lure her away with some of the food he’d sacked from the snack buffet for the party downstairs in the palace. Though Clara did turn around, she ignored the orange-glazed yeast cake he held out in favour of a tiny rice and vegetable bowl. Shade exhaled with relief, but Clara seemed barely so. When he offered the rice pudding with cherries next, she shook her head. “For Mama,” she said. “Sure,” he replied with a forced smile. Clara could be more perceptive than he expected at her two and a half years. Did she understand Diana was missing her own party? Or had he been too exact about her anticipated return from the Lakelands? It wasn’t officially “her” party, more an annual ball to remember the fallen and the veterans, but in Davidson’s circle, it was known that General Farley was to meet with representatives from Prairie who finally showed the start of an interest in brokering an alliance – with Monfort and the Scarlet Guard, no less. Diana wasn’t the usual choice for diplomacy though given Ella’s advice, the warlord from Prairie would rather be convinced by a brusque military leader. More so if she brought as a negotiating feature intelligence on the latest lakelander movements. As she’d been engaged in them. Or still was. As of, right now. Shade bit off some spicy bread with a slice of smoked ham. He supposed he would’ve heard of it if things had gone that wrong and Diana’s unit was still tied in battle. But if the situation was that dire, anything could’ve happened and with the communication cut off. No wonder Clara stared at the sky as if she could see the light of the plane returning her mother. He couldn’t wait for it, either. Diana had been set to be back two days ago. Leaving them three whole days of family life before his own mission to Ciron loomed and whose preparations he felt less and less inclined to proceed with. While Mare was with Cal in Piedmont and Kilorn and his brothers in Norta, Shade had been recommended to scout in the western country for possible allies, ideally to initiate first contacts together with other high-profile spies he barely knew. The opposite to quality time with his longed-for beloved and their daughter couldn’t be harsher when the lack of contact also made him worry - if not freaking out - about the well-being of the rest of his family. He felt terribly egoistic and also almost unashamed of it. He was fed up. It broke his heart enough to see Clara staring after a glimpse of her mother, how could he abandon her now, without Diana to relieve him? As if it could be called relieve, like a battle strategy, but it was the plan the two of them had come up with: Just one of them would be engaged in operations at one time, and this had lasted for almost two years now. Only Shade doubted the system more and more. He hardly wanted to leave Clara out of his reach and miss her growing each day. He’d also wanted to welcome Diana, had dreamed of her skin, her smell, her voice. The way she only smiled at Clara. Yesterday should’ve been theirs and this pitiful picnic should’ve included her. In the sunshine. Climbing the hills as if on a vacation, to forget the dangers they were in or just escaped even though she would’ve questioned him about his mission in her way to see him off safe. Thanks to the storm, any part of this became impossible and Clara’s glare at the cloud didn’t lessen in concentration. If she could, she’d challenge the weather itself. Shade risked a second to dip a pig-shaped cake in caramelized milk and devour it in one go before trying to offer another to Clara. This time, she took it, dipping it absentmindedly, yet on the way to her mouth, she let it drop. “There!” she pointed, jumping up. Shade was too startled to think and, still struggling to swallow the food, simply reached for Clara. She grinned, pointing again. But he didn’t see, too relieved to have Clara secure against his chest. Then he heard the aircraft approaching the palace. When he grasped its meaning, his grin mirrored Clara’s. The storm drove rain in his face before Shade was fully materialized, and the ground swayed beneath his feet. The truth about teleporting was that the dizziness never went away, not even for a teleporter himself. The irritations and imbalances coming with contradicting the corporeal world had to be fought with resilience, willpower, and focus, whether you were sneaking behind an enemy or escaping them. Now, though, he was grounded by Clara on his shoulder and before him – Her eyes, bright despite the dark, finding them immediately – The surety of her gait, approaching – Her smile, growing clearer and broader with every step – She was a woman in parts, and he longed to have her whole in his arms, and so he strode to her – until Clara heaved and then he stumbled for real, glancing at his daughter, trying to shift or steadying her. But to no avail, as she puked all over his chest and he was thrown out of his dreamy desires and stood there, frozen and dumbfounded. He jerked his head to the sound of a snort and there she was, Diana standing right before him. “Come here, dove,” she said, taking Clara from Shade and already comforting and cleaning her with her scarf, as efficient as ever. “Mama,” cried Clara, and Diana was quick to answer with soothing phrases. He searched her eyes darting between Clara and him and around and when their gazes locked, he found her glance full of joy and amusement as she bit her lips to keep from laughing. “Well, Dee,” he said finally, “the ball’s food we ate was better than it seems right now.” “Was it?” she asked, smirking, and reached out to caress his cheek with her thumb. It sent a shiver over his whole body. He hoped there wasn’t vomit on his face, too, and he cursed the rain for interfering with the intensity of her touch. He wanted to take her hand and pull her close, despite it all, because who gave a shit, but then her hand was back to hold Clara whose temple she kissed while he was still full of sick. He decided he didn’t care after all and shook off his freeze, just when Diana changed direction. “Ah, there’s Grandma, dove, let’s greet her and Grandpa,” she said as she walked ahead where, indeed, Shade’s parents approached, supposed to have Clara while he and Diana attended the ball. Diana looked over her shoulder. “So we all have to get changed,” she said to him. Winking. “I bring Clara to Ruth and Daniel and we meet upstairs, okay?”

“Bye, Papa,” Clara said. “Okay, bye,” he replied with a sigh filled with deprivation as he crossed his arms – wet and dirty. He’d make do with a shower for now.

He'd hurried cleaning up in the shared bathroom but long hair had its demands, especially in case of an event. With his long hair just dried and out of its bun for the ball, Shade found Diana in their apartment, mistreating a dress uniform in front of a mirror. At the second of his entry, she glanced at him, currently forgetting her battle but revealing the sum of the mess frontally. She couldn’t stop fidgeting with the clothes just for a second, always dragging the sleeves this way or that. The uneven buttoning revealed her bare throat down to her skimpy undershirt, making her look as unstyled as Cal in his workshop clothes and the medals she tried to pin were all over her chest, but not in a becoming pattern. He burst out laughing, in revanche, louder and freer than Diana earlier without a sick Clara in vicinity. Diana flushed, increasing her visible contempt for the outfit. “I suspect medals are really meant for punishment if they come with this horrible dress uniform.” Shade wiped his mouth, stepping closer to inspect the horror. As he touched the jacket where Diana had experimented with shifting the alignment of buttons and buttonholes, she sucked in a breath. He swallowed in turn, a shiver running over his arms. He felt the ghost of their missed welcoming hug. Now, as near as they hadn’t been for weeks, the yearning for reunion was overwhelming. As it was for cupping her breasts. Another swallow ended in a cough. “First of all, try a proper shirt, loose on the shoulder, not a tank top.” “But – “ “I’ll leave the top buttons open and fix your tie in a fancy knot. And the pins I can use to keep the collar from your throat.” Assessing her styling kept him cool. Even as her eyes bored into him. Eyes that should match her style. So he should look – He stepped back but Diana caught his hand. “Help me take it off.” “It is already more off than on,” he said with a snort, pulling away for good to search for the right shirt. Some women were okay with clothes fitted for most men but curvy and broad-shouldered Diana was not one of them. He did not glimpse at her. “I left Clara with your parents,” she called to his back, “as usual at these blasted events. Tsk. As if I wouldn’t rather stay with her right now … she fell asleep before I could barely talk to her.” He heard her walking around. A hand on his shoulder. “You're right,” she said, glimpsing over his shoulder and eating a dish of rice pudding. “The food is great. I hope your parents got some snacks, too.” "I'd be surprised if they didn't." He smirked. "Clara wanted to leave that rice pudding for you, you know", he told her. "Really?" Diana beamed. "She can be so sweet." "Or almost grown up." Diana sighed, the remark nagging at her for a few seconds. He felt for her hand and squeezed it. “Was she better, no more throwing up?” he asked. She shook her as she took the shirt. “It just exhausted her. Maybe she’s just like me, uncomfortable with teleporting.” The thought amused them both, even as they cosseted and worried about Clara the immediate moment. The daughter of a teleporter couldn’t stand the ability. Did that mean she didn’t have the ability herself? He sighed. Suddenly he strongly wished to hold Clara and solace her. Indeed, a blasted event upsetting the millions of things they could better do tonight. Least of all tracing the curves of Diana’s body beneath the formal attire as she changed. Instead, he could talk. Neutrally asking about her recent operation. How did her mission go? Diana seemed hale and whole enough but the relief at the first sight of her washed over him again as she confirmed it. So, what about the rest of her unit? What was left out of the reports, what would affect the negotiations to take place? Would there be repercussions, also on his mission – the very next day? Diana was dry in her replies even as she chattered along nonetheless, playing along if Shade wasn’t open to “taking off” her uniform. He knew they wouldn’t leave the room this night if he gave in to that. As he produced his own dress uniform from the closet and moved to put it on, he cursed at their deal simply cut for unpredictable schedules. He should refrain from his missions. The thought, once appeared, dropped like a stone. He couldn’t imagine abandoning his comrades-to-be on a whim. But he was unable to unthink it. To stand back and steal the time for their family to stay together appeared like a goal. He straightened his posture, the reflection of his prim, military outfit belying his true resolution. “That we should have to steal the time to be together,” he said aloud. She met his eyes, softly for once. “We do it for Clara.” At first, he said nothing as he returned to dressing Diana and paced around her. “Clara needs a lot of things,” he replied finally as he put her jacket back in place. “You've been great with her the last weeks,” Diana whispered as the jacket almost glided onto her with the silky and loose-fitting tunic beneath. It was her favourite pretty shirt, one she hardly had chances to wear. "She already misses you," she said, glancing for the corner of his eye rather than his reflection. As do I, she mouthed. Why don't you say that aloud? he wondered. Her eyes in the mirror sparkled with something unsaid. She felt for his arm and squeezed. “I’ll look after her first thing in the morning. Rise with the dawn, and all that.” “I know, I know, you never forget about the Guard,” Shade answered, though with a dose of humour. He could see before his eyes how Diana would spend the next day spoiling Clara while staying alert for new military developments. He’d rather see it for real than imagine it, though. As he stood behind her, both before a mirror, he stretched out her arms, settling inner and outer sleeves. The he felt for her front for the buttons, watching their reflections as his fingers went up, pressing against her belly. “You’re so nimble,” she whispered. Finished at the front, his hands glided along her arms to entwine their fingers. “You’d know,” he answered quietly into her ear and his lips were just about to kiss her neck when he froze in the act. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Diana’s disappointment flash in the mirror. “I won’t undo my work right when it’s complete,” he said and, without letting go of her hand, spun around as if in a dance. If Diana was still flustered, she didn’t show it but only a wicked, dazzling grin as she swayed along with him. “See, you can move in it,” he said. “More elegant than you claimed once.” She snorted in affront. “These dress-up things are an insult to those who fight in the field, with how little movement they offer.” He increased the pace of their dance. “I find it quite comfortable right now.” Despite her complaints, she went along with the faster, more complicated dance moves he started. “Well, obviously the uniforms have been designed with your body types in mind from the start, all lean and straight.” “Straight.” He tsked. “Only outwardly,” she clarified and initiated a new step. “In a more – most – desirable way,” she added under her breath. “Glad to hear you still find me beautiful.” “Hm. You should say that to me,” she countered before he twisted them around, one, two, three times, until he let go of the dance pose to cup her face. “Has the gorgeous General Diana Farley of the Scarlet Guard and mother of our child finally become vain?” he asked. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Just that I’d enjoy to hear it, as a general, mother and your …” she bit her lips. He blinked. “What?” She took his hands to remove them from her face and pull away, turning to the mirror to control whether her outfit had survived. Or to check how deeply red her cheeks were. “A miracle,” she muttered. “Of course you are.” She smiled at him. “When did you even learn that?” Did she really think this obvious shift of topic would work? “From Gisa, for a start. Had to serve as her mannequin and model and you know she had to work for silver tastes.” He rolled his eyes. “But yeah, she also said the basic styles are like designed for sticks like me.” “A beautiful stick.” She cackled. “But good she had other customers and body types now.” “Like you? Truly.” He bit his lips. “Though there were always stockier silvers, too,” he said absentmindedly, though he was already thinking about someone else. Diana noticed. She waited for him to continue, merely blinking once or twice. She was never so calm or patient with anyone else but Clara – or him. It encouraged him as he took to his time to consider his words. “It was before we met, when I was newly conscripted to the nortan army. As an aide, I had to manage an officer’s supply including his clothes. “He treated me like a butler at times. Missed the luxuries from home but didn’t have the chance to bring them. Including servants.” Diana winced. “You only told me he was an idiot before, though smart enough to hire you.” “Smart?” Shade grimaced. “Not so rewarding for him given where we got as he went lost.” “So is he? Lost?” Shade shrugged and Diana prodded further. “I know you’d check what became of him.” Shade glanced away and quieted, listening in for the faint waves of the sound barely reaching them. They were more felt than heard. “It was a dark time I don’t take pleasure in telling and reliving,” Shade admitted finally. She hugged him back as he stood still for good. “But I'm here to listen when you need me to.”

His fingers drummed with the music as Shade glided through the ball. At times, he was about to start humming before stopping himself. At least it managed to distract him; almost too well. He didn’t have the nerve to spy tonight, to chat and deceive while the pressure of the next day loomed over him. Still, as his blood pulsed in anticipation of Diana’s return from conferring with the Prairie warlord, Russell. He had considered following Diana to hide and listen, but for what reason? She knew him too well not to notice and he wouldn’t bother her that way. And he trusted her. She’d succeed in negotiations and either way, he couldn’t look after her from tomorrow on –

“Thinking about me?” he startled and choked on his drink as Diana arrived that very moment to take him by the arm, entwining their fingers. She wasn’t one for public affection, so this display of closeness was as demonstrative as a kiss. It certainly felt almost as intimate as he glanced over the crowd in her grasp, aware of the people who saw them. He set aside the glass and completed their embrace, already pulling her along to sway to the rhythm of the song. “For sure,” he replied with an exaggerated drawl. “I longed to resume our dance where we left off.” She raised an eyebrow in amused doubt as her hand roamed over his back and he sucked in a breath. His own hand on her waist began to prove a temptation he tried to battle by focusing on intensifying the dance steps. He listened for the first beats of a new song, changing into a different dance and he was ready for the shift. A taxed Diana followed his lead. Despite her flush, she enjoyed the challenge of the dance. “You do seem eager.” He shrugged, smiling. “And you seem smug. You have the warlord wrapped around your fingers already?” She made a scale gesture with her fingers. “He’s predictable enough, as was his reluctance before. I know the type. Doesn’t want to state his offers, so I let him dangle and stay vague myself. He’ll spill soon enough.” He let her twirl under his raised arm.” And we have the time?” Her mouth twitched after the spin, unperturbed by the move, dancing as fresh as if just woken from sleep instead of locked in a tumultuous flight. “In this case. He’s so eager for the edge in an alliance he doesn’t grunt about efficiency in meetings.” “So he’s spying.” She mock-hit his shoulder. “Of course he’s spying, Shade Barrow. You’d know best.” He chuckled and she went on. “As I said, I’m acquainted with the type. I know where to bring his attention and Davidson knows how to appear generous.” “But do you want me to shadow his retinue?” Between the quick steps and the movements of the other dancers, speech was limited between catching breaths. Only as the song rolled out and slowed, they did as well, into a lazy motion staying on the spot, two people in their own pace and place, careless of the rest. Their grip on each other grew firmer and their gaze shifted from playful into serious. Diana swallowed, without losing sight of him. “You’d rather stay?” Her grasp became even tighter, almost hopeful. Could she be agreeing with his doubts? Shade traced her face with his figners. “If you hadn’t arrived this eve – right when you did – I wouldn’t be joining my mission tomorrow.” Diana’s eyes widened. “It’s exactly the promise we mode, isn’t it?” he went on. “One would always stay with Clara. So she’ll never see both parents dying in one battle.” For once, Diana hesitated to meet his eyes as she chewed on that. He shook his head. “Even if I’d spoken to you the day before, when your operation was over and you’d only have to return. Anything could’ve happened still, your base attacked, the airplane crashed – it wouldn’t matter. I couldn’t go on if we’d lost you, not knowing what’s become of you.” He stopped, his brow leaning against hers. Diana covered his hand on her face, her eyes aligning with his. “You would fight no longer … without me?” Shade broke her grip, stepping back. “It’s not like anyone can make me fight for them, can they?” he said, glimpsing Diana’s irritated frown before he teleported away. A silly joke, he knew. Jumping exactly out of reach but still in eyesight, urging Diana to follow him through the rush of partygoers. He could hear Diana calling his name, just not enough under her breath to avoid attention. She sped up, her instincts winning over the chaos. “Are we being dramatic now?” she spat, panting, when they’d reached the empty stairs outside the ballroom with only meters between them. The doors slammed shut behind her. He glanced over his shoulder; she was climbing up after him. “But you didn’t ask…!” she said, still panting, and quieter now. “What we could do differently …” She swallowed while her gaze continued to burn at him nonetheless. “Or if you believe our promise is for the gutter. “I’d rather spent this evening watching Clara sleep, too. Relaxing after being stuck in a plane for hours, delayed because of the weather as well as fake threats. Then hear how you and Clara spent these weeks together. How she grows, what she learns. Quarrel about who of us gets to do what with her. “I want so much, Shade. I’m full of it, so full I can only act to live with it. I understand what you say, I'd do the same. But not … forever. I want Clara, and us, any children we might have, our people, to have it better. I can’t and won’t stop before we win. Or we might lose it again.” She pushed through the final step and reached him at arms’ length. Her fingers fluttered against his back until he spun. “Why do you run away?” she muttered. “As long as it’s needed to make you talk as much as this,” he replied. She snorted but grasped his arms tight, nearly ending their balance – or just about keeping it. He gasped, and she leaned her head against his chest. They were rarely in this position, with her being taller than him. The unusual feeling of it both flustered and elated him, as he imagined her hearing the fast throb of his heart, or how that thought alone made it beat even faster. He started to caress her hair almost automatically. “I know you might not…”, Diana began eventually, lifting her face right so he could see her warmed gaze. “Maybe you don’t see it like that anymore.” What? He nearly said it aloud, having forgotten their topic for their embrace. “Maybe you wouldn’t fight no matter what anymore,” she went on. Ah. “Because we have Clara.” “I never said that,” he replied after clearing his throat. Quiet but sharp. Determined. “I can’t give this up no easier than you. But if – if– I lost you, I couldn’t go on like before.” “Then I want to know that!” she cried out, then exhaled until she caught herself. "There're always other jobs to do either way. I have to know. You could do anything, it doesn't have to in the field." She shook her head, pondering. His hand was on her waist, hugging her closer and closer. Indeed, Shade wasn’t sure himself if that was the solution he craved.

Finally, she lifted her piercing eyes. “Will you join your mission tomorrow?” she asked, her voice low. He sighed. He was here, at an event for soldiers and veterans, celebrating success as well as survival while they were about to broker a new military alliance. Diana stood before him, decked in medals earned in spilled blood, her own and others’. “A recon operation in Ciron,” he said. “I confess, I wonder about the point of where it all might lead.” Diana frowned. “Reconnaissance isn’t a coup.” “It might lead to one,” he countered. “So you’d rather leave it wholly in the hands of others?” “Well, in yours,” he admitted. “And you listen to me.” “I’m not sure if that flatters me,” she said with an ice-cold smile. The general’s smile. “Would you be as reluctant if Mare came with you?” His face fell, caught guilty as charged. No wonder she smiled like that. “No, I wouldn’t,” he confirmed. “I’m a terrible soldier, I suppose.” Diana straightened while he only longed to maintain their embrace as a cackle escaped her throat. “Inclined to blatant favoritism,” she said. “Disobeying orders and acting on his own advice. Questioning officers but without intention to take command yourself. Up for the sneaky jobs and avoiding supervision. Expecting personal relations to cover up misdemeanors.” For all the sharp accuracy, Diana listed the call-outs with an amused grin. “You’ve always been an awful soldier, Shade Barrow,” she concluded. “But I think that’s what brought us together in the first place, isn’t it? You aren’t cut to obey but would follow me lead anyway. To be honest, I’m very glad how you’ve kept running after me – ” Shade blushed at the memory he couldn’t deny. “Umm – “ “Indeed,” Diana went on, “I’ve been honoured to follow you as well. To be with you, as we watched each other’s backs. To see new options – to be made to see new options, because of you, as you insisted on my attention.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve changed for meeting you and I don’t regret a minute of it. Whatever you’ll choose, whoever you become, I want to be with you. I ... won't give you orders if you'll disobey in the end." He grimaced at that remark but Diana paused, puzzled until resolve flashed over her face. "I won't command you where to go but I promise to never leave you behind. Whatever the future holds for us or how we’ll react to it.” She swallowed and goosebumps rose over his skin as blood rushed through his head and her voice was warped by a ringing in his ears. “We’ve … made a promise after Clara was born. That one of us will always stay back for her. And maybe this promise doesn’t work out as well as we thought. But we can make other, new, … different promises. Or vows. A vow …” Her face shone with a flush. “Like?” he breathed, barely audible. “Like, Shade Barrow, would you marry me?” And her eyes sparkled as she said that, despite the way she’d stumbled over the words with insecurity. For a moment, he thought it was the bravest speech she’d ever held. As if she didn’t know what he’d reply. Nor did he, actually. “You never cease to surprise me,” he managed to utter and cursed himself next to her heaving breaths. She deserved a better answer. So he grabbed her by the waist and, as she didn’t kneel but still stood below him, lifted her up to the same stair as him and as she yelped, he embraced her so tightly he could bury his face in her neck. He panted now, harder than her, and not only due to the effort of lifting her. Her arms, hugging him back, were force stronger than gravity, so powerful he forgot he even could teleport. It was just what she always did. After he prodded and urged her to come closer, she’d give more than he’d even imagined asking for. Marriage had sounded so plain and formal, it felt pointless for them. They were comrades in arms, relying their lives on each other, as well as parents raising their little, lovely child. Any considerations to deployments or housing were granted them due to that; their intimate relationship no one else’s concern and he thought that only just. Silvers could keep their conjugal restrictions to settle their finances with marriages; any of Diana and Shade’ s endless but fruitless discussions about a second baby felt more significant. Until she asked him and it suddenly was significant, lighting a flame in his heart that filled him with an energy he craved without knowing what to use it for. They were in love, and it mattered. They became who they were and got to this point, in a palace with leaders on their side because of it and if anything, this flame should keep on burning for the world see and feel as they celebrated it. Shade startled, to look into her eyes and finally give her her bleeding reply, but this time, nothing could save their balance as a distraught Diana jerked as well and they would’ve tumbled down the stairs if their hands didn’t find each other, without thinking, and they maintained footing only to fall over each other with Diana on top of him, both loudly exhaling after the shock. Diana tore at her rumpled uniform. “All your work, undone again,” she exclaimed and laughed. “I’ll help your out of it,” he answered and their eyes met, filled with longing, and the centimeters between them broke into kisses like breathing, until they required real oxygen again. "Did you just come up with that?" he asked quietly, nuzzling her neck. Diana grasped his face to make him look at her but didn't say anything, only blinked. Shit. Guilt settled in his belly. “I didn't mean –” An uncertain smile appeared on her face in slow motion. "Partly?" she offered. Almost like she was prepared if he was taking it as a joke. Her flush intensified, but not just from kissing. Her nervosity heightened, too; he could feel that in her pulse. "I mean, it, the idea to ask, came over me in the heat of the moment, but ... well, I did think about it for a while but if it's all too much of a surprise for you, or not your preference at all-" A laugh rose in his throat, a laugh of elation he just about managed to swallow. "Diana, no." Her face froze. "No, sorry, I didn't mean – sorry!" He took he deep breath. Not a breath of hesitation, but one like drinking in the love for this woman. He found her gaze again. “I'll hold on to you for every minute we have. And I'll still rise before dawn to wake Clara with you, before I'll go to Ciron, for one final round of our plan and then I absolutely do want to marry you, Diana Farley. And throw a bloody royal feast for it.”

A/N 2: I hope that was a surprise for you! It sure was one for me that I managed to write something that made Me The Aro not disregard marriage as a repulsive patriarchal tool to control money and female sexuality let’s stop here but beam along with my OTP. As I worked really long on this, some things were changed and I want to make a honourary mention of the dancing montage bringing Fade from their room to the ballroom including a time skip - it’d work better in movie version ;-)

@elliemarchetti @lilyharvord @mareshmallow @maudthebookeater @king-maven-calore @samanthaslytherin @evangeline-of-montfort @farleydiana @scxrletguardsdawn @freaky-freiday @petergrantkavinsky @inopinion @hannaharies

#red queen #red queen fan fiction #red queen fanfiction #shade x farley #shade barrow #diana farley #victoria aveyard #war storm #glass sword #king's cage #broken throne #post war storm #death by cuteness #happy birthday #clara farley-barrow #general farley #imagine shade was still #off-duty #steel scars

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gregwild1917 · 9 months ago

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Working on a fic outline for a pirate storyline and just realized I don’t know anything about ships or traveling by sea

But guess who’s going keep writing it anyway just in really vague nautical terms bc who’s gonna stop me?? The ocean police? They haven’t even stopped piracy itself and that’s been going on for a lot longer than inaccurate fanfics

#fan fiction #throne of glass #can’t wait to have all these characters shirtless in the tropics for no reason #and yes Sam is still dead

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fenrysmoonbeamswife · 15 days ago

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Okay okay okay I don't know if this will even make sense or just sound dramatic or like rambling so bare with me I guess

I keep seeing people saying "oh you don't think reading should be made political but you read books like ACOTAR and xyz?" and while I totally get the point and agree with it, let's just look at this particular example for a second because it's completely unsurprising.

Let's be real, the majority of the people who read ACOTAR praise the "inner circle". They see them as the good guys, the best of the best, "goals", whatever. It has gotten to the point that it's almost cult-like, I mean I've seen people who haven't even read the books already in love with the inner circle just because fans basically convince them to be.

Anyway, even just their name is already starting off bad, the inner circle? By actual definition an inner circle is a curated group who move in the same circle. AKA the elite few chosen out of complete bias by the leader (not for any particular care for their people or political savvy because we know they have none of that) just because they're "besties"

This particular inner circle consists of

1. A man who has committed sexual assault, abuse, war crimes, murder and more. Has quite literally segregated his own people and abandoned 2/3s of his court. Knows about and allows the unrelenting physical, mental and sexual abuse of the women and children he is responsible for. Locked up survivors of sexual abuse and uses them for free labour and pretended it was some sort of charity.

2. A man who obliterated a village because of his own rage. Committed physical and emotional abuse and sexual harassment. Takes some sort of pleasure out of seeing women in pain.

3. A literal torturer (granted he doesn't seem to actually enjoy his job but he still does it)

4. A woman who abandoned all of the other women who are abused the way she was even though she's quite literally in charge of the place. Who also said that a woman at her worst mentally after severe trauma should be punished by being put with her abusers.

5. And literally a 1000+ year old ex-inmate of the Prison. Baring in mind we don't know why she was in the Prison, she wasn't pardoned or anything similar she escaped so she is still a criminal as far as we know and she is the nastiest skank ass bitch ever so I can only assume she did something horrific based on everything she's ever said. Ever. (this is mostly a Mean Girls joke because Rhysand is literally a Regina George wannabe but also Amren is the nastiest skank ass bitch)

These are the same people who are pretty racist towards Illyrians, make borderline vicious animals out of Illyrian men and allow them to do as they please so that they have disposable pawns to fight their wars and have left the Illyrian women and children to be abused by them. The same people who have decided that the entirety of Hewn city are abusive, not that there could possibly be any other women or children in similar situations to Mor. The same people who, while they build their *checks notes* fifth mansion, tear down buildings for funsies because they can't abuse whoever they want to use their powers. The same people who got pissed off about someone *double checks notes* saving another world and their own.

I'm sorry (not) but the same people who support and adore and worship these characters are typically the ones who "don't want to bring politics into reading" and say things like "it's just fiction". It isn't just fiction. There is no such thing as just fiction.

Reading will always be political. And I'm using ACOTAR as an example because I'm seeing it used and found it ironic in a way but christ nearly every fantasy book if not literally every fantasy book out there has politics that can be directly correlated to our own. I mean I always say that if someone told me that different people wrote ACOTAR and Throne of Glass I would believe them but at the same time that's mostly a joke because of how drastically different they are. I found Throne of Glass so deep, so much more focused on the underdog, the seemingly smaller stories that add up the the bigger picture, the end result of everyone not just the select few (the inner circle). Don't get me wrong, there are problems with it but a lot of them are called out in the writing and you can see that for the most part it's the writing of a young dreamer. And then you have ACOTAR and it's just so privileged and biased and trying so hard to tell you that the elite are at some sort of disadvantage and like basically you could convince me it was written by a straight white man with 0 effort.

Moral of the story is, when someone like SJM uses Breonna Taylors death to hype up her own book, it's not just fiction. When SJM who very clearly self inserts into ACOTAR and puts her own beliefs that she's taken from the real world into these stories that she writes, it's not just fiction. When she takes real world examples of abuse and privilege and segregation and misogyny and whatever fucking else and puts them into her stories, it's not just fiction. When what you're reading directly correlates to or effects your own political beliefs, it's not just fiction. When what you're reading can be translated to the real world in a scarily realistic way, it's not just fiction. When we could wake up tomorrow and be in the exact same situations we read about, it's not just fiction. Fiction is fiction sure, but it will always be based on real life. There is only so much the imagination can do, it needs a base point and that is the real world. So it is never just fiction

#anti inner circle #sjm critical #anti rhysand #anti cassian #pro nesta #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #sjm #acotar #reading is political

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mysticstarlightduck · 6 months ago

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Late Writeblr Intro!

Hello, friends!

I figured it was about time I made an actual blog intro of my own since I forgot to make one when I started this blog last year. Better late than never, lmao!

Pls, reblog, like, and/or reply to help boost the blog! 💕

Let's get started:

Personal Stuff! 💜🩶🖤

My name is Anna/Anya but you can call me Mystic, Ducky, or just Anya on this blog! My personal nickname is Ani and I adore it (:

I am an Asexual woman (my pronouns are she/her!) and I'm also personally an atheist who puts my faith in the spirits of Mother Nature, though I respect all other religions equally!

I'm Gen Z and Latina (Brazilian). I was raised bilingual (Brazilian Portuguese + English) and I love learning languages - currently, I'm working on learning French and Spanish! Career-wise I am studying in college to become a character designer and hopefully animator, as I want to pursue a career as an artist and writer! I also wish to have my WIPs published in the near future (:

Some fun facts about me!

My favorite shows are Critical Role, Game of Thrones, Castlevania, The Legend of Vox Machina (animated series), Star Wars, Voltron, The Dragon Prince, Avatar the Last Airbender, Legend of Korra, and DC Comics content, as well as many more lmao. I love watching movies and series!

My favorite Vox Machina characters are Vax'ildan and Percy (:

I am a younger sister 💖

My hair is short and curly (pixie style, similar to the haircut Rapunzel has at the end of the Tangled movie!)

I adore listening to music, especially songs that can inspire me to write my WIPs! Playlists are a huge part of my writing process and something I really enjoy making.

I'm currently rereading Shadow and Bone (+ Six of Crows) and I am always looking for more good dark fantasy/historical fantasy books to read so book recs are always welcome! I also am a huge fan of the Percy Jackson series and Trials of Apollo (by Rick Riordan), though I'm usually more of a gritty/dark fantasy fan (like Game of Thrones)!

I have three dogs and two cats!😺🐶

I know how to play the piano, though I haven't done that in a while because things have been chaotic for me, but I'd like to start playing regularly again in my winter vacation.

I have worn glasses since I was 5 years old and have terrible eyesight without them (and some days with them, lol, so bear with me).

My friends and I are doing a DnD campaign every Sunday, where I play as a half-elf rogue named Aeryn (he/him). I'm adoring this adventure so far, it's so fun!!!

I love to bake and am rather good at it, but am a painfully average cook lmao (some specific recipes I make are actually rlly good, but it depends a lot on my mood and the 'alignment of the stars' lol)

I want to learn how to knit/crochet! 🧶

I'm a theater nerd and love musicals (:

About my Writing!🏹⌛

I write fictional works mostly in the genre of fantasy (high fantasy/epic fantasy/dark fantasy/historical fantasy/urban fantasy, etc. You name it!) and science fiction (space opera/cyberpunk/superhero, etc).

My works usually revolve around themes such as epic quests, secrets, adventure, rebels fighting an oppressive system, sibling bonds, acceptance/respect, outcasts, and much, much more! I love fluff and whump equally, and though my stories tend to focus on serious topics (or at least darker/heavier themes) within a fantasy/sci-fi setting, I like to have a good bit of humor, lighthearted fun, and comedy to my stories to lighten up the mood!

My main WIPs:

Song of Thorns

🌹WIP Intro: (here)🌹

Genre: dark fantasy, medieval fantasy, adventure/mystery, dark fairytale, eldritch horror (mild)

Style: Standalone (possible Trilogy)

Tags: #wip song of thorns #song of thorns

Short Summary/About: "A peasant girl moves with her siblings from her struggling seaside village to the kingdom's glittering floating capital, but after her older brother is kidnapped, she ends up discovering the dark, bloody secrets hiding behind the long-lasting royal family of the town and must team up with a young dhampir thief, the exiled prince, and a lonely druid girl to save the dying kingdom from this web of lies".

Supernova Initiative

🎇WIP Intro: (here) 🎇

Genre: space opera, adventure, exploration, laboratory whump, heist, thriller/mystery

Style: Episodic book series with an overarching plot (each chapter/group of chapters equivalent to an episode in a TV series)

Tags: #wip supernova initiative #supernova initiative

Short Summary/About: "A young intergalactic thief and his crew are captured after a heist gone wrong and forced to accept a strange deal - complete a mission for the Junction, retrieve important missing files, and get their freedom back. All the while that is happening, Jack Tithus, the protagonist, finds himself trapped as a test subject to an immoral, and elusive, man known as the Director."

Enchanted Illusions

💀 WIP Intro: (here)💀

Genre: Victorian fantasy, adventure, mystery, gothic fantasy, dark fantasy, crime-solving

Style: Possibly a trilogy

Tags: #wip enchanted illusions, #enchanted illusions

Short Summary/About: "On a magical setting inspired by Victorian times, a group of strangers and outcasts must work together to thwart a powerful secret organization and stop a murder spree that could lead to another civil war between myths and humans."

Of Starlight and Beasts

✨⚔️WIP Intro: (here)⚔️✨

Genre: medieval fantasy, epic fantasy, adventure/quest, dark fairytale, sword and sorcery, prophecies

Style: Book Series

Tags: #wip of starlight and beasts, #enchanted illusions

Short Summary/About: "A young knight in training and an amnesiac star mage embark on a quest to prevent an ancient prophecy from coming to fruition as a vengeful sorceress queen's army marches relentlessly onto their land with the intent to destroy all their kingdom has built."

The Last Wrath

🔥⚔️WIP Intro: to be made...⚔️🔥

Genre: dark fantasy, warfare, political intrigue, espionage, adventure/quest, medieval fantasy, whump

Style: Book Series (currently on hiatus)

Tags: #wip the last wrath, #the last wrath

Short Summary/About: "In a land torn by an ancient war between two sides of a continent, a mageborn girl finds herself trapped amid the bloodshed after her past comes back to haunt her and her family. Now, stopping the war may be the only chance she still has to survive."

Tales of Wilted Flowers

🥀WIP Intro: to be made...🪻

Genre: RPG-inspired fantasy, high fantasy, adventure, fairytale, epic quest, heist story, whump, light fantasy

Style: Trilogy (currently on hiatus)

Tags: #wip tales of wilted flowers #tales of wilted flowers

Short Summary/About - "A group of youths rejected and betrayed by society in many different ways come together due to unexpected circumstances and must rely on each other to prevent the kingdom's corrupt Head Sorcerer and the King from reviving an ancient evil."

Realms of Loss

🍂WIP Intro: (here)🍂

Genre: dark fantasy, warfare, medieval fantasy, high fantasy, ancient times fantasy, Viking-inspired, prophecies & curses

Style: Book Series (currently on hiatus)

Tags: #wip realms of loss #realms of loss

Short Summary/About - "In a continent destroyed by the fall of the Old Gods, and trapped in an endless toil for survival, a cocky young prince discovers his role in an ancient prophecy after his brother, the King, is murdered and assassins come for him too. Running away into the forsaken land beyond the walls of his kingdom, he'll have to learn to be a leader and save his people as a dead, murderous God awakens."

Mutant Inquiries/Open Secret Files

🤖 WIP Intro: to be made..🤖

Genre: superhero, cyberpunk, futuristic, dystopian, science fiction, urban fantasy

Style: Episodic Series, still in development

Tags: #wip mutant inquiries #wip open secret files #mutant inquiries #open secret files

Short Summary/About: "In a dystopian, high-tech future, a group of mutant teenagers become vigilantes and crime fighters to rebel against the oppressive government regime and survive their crime-ridden city."

I have a few other smaller-scale WIPs I occasionally, less frequently work on, such as Lies Untold and Jade Ruins, but those up above are the main ones that I wish to publish. I've also got a big, secret extra WIP I'm working on for fun and will share it with you guys soon!

#writers on tumblr #writers #writeblr intro #blog intro #wip intro #writeblr #writing #writerblr #my wips #character writing #writing community #writers of tumblr

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hopelittledreamer · 4 days ago

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Intro post ♡︎ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆♡

It's my first time writing an intro post, so here goes nothing.

You can call me armeen, or any other nickname you'd like. My interest spans across an ocean of diversity.

Likes๋࣭ ⭑⚝:

I like to read, journal, sometimes sketch, talk with my loved ones, spend time with animals, bike ride and obsess over fictional characters. I'm obsessed with kabaddi too. I love being hopeful and finding meaning in everyday life. Hindi songs are love ♡ ̆̈ ⋆.˚ <𝟑

I'm a big romantic.

Fandoms: Shatter me, The folk of the air, Throne of glass (a reread is needed), The inheritance games, tvd, the twisted series,Acotar (very critical), The empyrean series, GoT, HoD, Jujutsu Kaisen and AOT.

Die hard gojo satoru fan (more like gojo glazer)

I lOVE 3 IDIOTS WITH ALL MY EXISTENCE.

Sitaaron se bhare is jahaan me ek chehra tumhara mujhe bohot acha lagta hai๋࣭ ♡˙⋆.⋆.ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

My mutual and bestie: @oldlibrariesbookishgirls ๋࣭

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shallyne · 8 months ago

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Daylight

This is my very first tog fic (that isn't a crackship) and my very first rowaelin fic and also my very first entry for @throneofglassmicrofics and for my dearest @timesconvert || I hope you'll like it!

This is a song fic based on Taylor Swift's song Daylight

Words: 818

TW: triggering canon scenes mentioned!

Aelin looked at Rowan, really looked at him as he talked to Fenrys and realised once again how lucky they were to be here. How much shit they went through to even get to this point at all and how far they’ve come since they first met, how fate hat fucked them up so thoroughly that they still healed and Aelin realized right then how lucky she was to be able to heal, right beside her mate. What an honour it was to not only be able to have him at her side but to be there for him, too, at his side. Yes she looked at Rowan because Rowan was what she could look at and what she wanted to look at. She saw him and he saw her, she never wanted anything to change about that.He loved her, saw through all her faults, the lines she had crossed in the past to survive, her saw her and he loved her,

She still felt guilt about how easily she had trusted Arobynn, how trusting Arobynn was her only chance at survival at only 8 years older but especially that she had harboured hope that he wasn’t the cruel man she had witnessed over and over again, how he had failed her last test in trust but Rowan...he still loved her throughout her misplaced hope in Arobynn and every fucked up thing she had to do to get them where they were now, to get to a peaceful life.After they went through so much darkness, through endless nights, he was the light at the end of the tunnel. Rowan was her daylight, the breaking of dawn. He had helped her leave the young assassin behind and step into the role of Queen of Terrasen.

Yes, Aelin finally was out of the dark, thanks to her beautiful mate and she finally had the peace to take the time to look at him and appreciate him and love him.

Although there were nights they took a long, long time to appreciate each other it was something different to look at him now. How his posture had become relaxed, how the darkness had left his eyes, less haunted than ever, and his sassy remarks, Aelin huffed a laugh that had both fae males looking over their shoulder. She waved for them to continue their conversation, a smile glued to her face. Yes, his sassy remarks definitely increased, but she couldn’t blame him, it was the very same for herself.

After what felt like twenty years full of darkness, he was her daylight and Aelin liked to believe he felt the same about her.

The darkness was finally over.

Fenrys sighed after Rowan clapped him on his shoulder, he turned around, mocking a bow and bid her goodbye. Aelin stuck out her tongue before Fenrys had fully turned, and saw a hint of a smirk as Rowan walked towards her, the sun shining behind him, making him look like there was a golden glow around him.

After Sam, she hadn’t believed she would ever find a love so all consuming that her whole body would react to everything, but here she was, her mouth drying up at the beauty of her mate.

“Are you done with your broody male conversations?” she asked, picking at her nails.

Rowan plopped down beside her, his familiar pine and snow scent enveloping them. “You can’t really call two people a club, can you?”

Aelin shrugged, turning her face and cherishing the sunlight. “No but you probably planned another broody fae male meeting where you talk about…well…broody fae male stuff.”

Rowan huffed amused and she felt how he leaned closer. “What have you laughed about earlier?” he asked, his voice quiet and deep,

Aelin hid her shudder at the pleasure that brought his voice and turned her head towards her mate, meeting his beautiful green eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know, buzzard?” Rowan only raised a brow, waiting for her to continue. She sighed, “I was just...I’m happy.” she admitted. Happy that she now could live a life where she could choose what she wanted. That she could be defined by the things she loved, not the things she hated. She wouldn’t be defined by the things that she was afraid of or the things that still haunted her in the middle of the night. They would be defined by the things that they love, they would become the people that made them happy.

“Me too.” Rowan said and although he wasn’t a man of big words, she saw the emotions in his eyes.He knew what she thought and he agreed.

Rowan stretched his hand out, for Aelin to take, and she did. He pulled her up and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Then they began walking, into the bright future that awaited them. Full of laughter and life and light.

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spicywhenspeaking · 11 months ago

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hi friends :) welcome 🪄💖

I'm Michelle <3 I'm 29, an Aries, ramen fanatic, fangirl and average fan fiction writer.

I'm so happy to meet you! :) listen while you’re here ❤️

if you like

Bad Omens (my fics) (fic recommendations)

Jujutsu Kaisen (moodboards) & many other Anime’s!

Baldurs Gate 3 (moodboards)

Avatar The Last Airbender (moodboards)

Teen Wolf >o<

Marvel

ACOTAR & Crescent City & Throne Of Glass

The Empyrean Series (Fourth Wing/Iron Flame)

Star Wars

we should be friends :)

REQUESTS ARE closed :) moodboards/fics instagram templates

WIPS

If I'm There -> It's a RPF fanfiction (pls don’t engage if you’re a haterrr) Noah Sebastian and an original female character, Natalie.

Star-Crossed Connection -> RPF fanfiction with Nick Folio and OFC Seraphina Holloway! Fake dating AU

let me know if you'd like to be tagged in anything :)

coming soon…

A Soldier’s Redemption -> Bucky Barnes x OFC (hurt / comfort)

Part 2 Katara x Aang fic -> Angst w/ new OFC

part one here

Everything Has A Price -> Matt Dierkes Rivals to Lovers fic

Sneak peak

utitled Sterek Smut

xoxoxox

can you please watch these guys for me?

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acourtofquestions · 5 months ago

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Vigilante Shit but make it Aelin & Lysandra in QoS:

Draw the cat eye, sharp enough to kill a man

— Has there ever been a more “Aelin Sardothien” get ready song? 🔪💅🏻

You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them

— *coughs* I’m/Celaena/Lysandra looking/death-glaring at you Arobynn☠️

Sometimes I wonder which one will be your last lie

— The dinner, the girls glancing through the vaults, the note passed & right given

They say looks can kill and I might try; I don't dress for women, I don't dress for men; Lately I've been dressing for revenge

— THE DRAGON DRESS 💛🐉👑🖤

I don't start it but I can tell you how it ends

— she’s the one they send in last because it’s one & done. THAT’s what she was trained to be… but it’s not what she becomes… not when Aelin starts waging her own wars

Don't get sad, get even

— for so long her rage was her vice, her sanity, her only way to keep “the monster” tightly leashed even while sleeping under the same roof as her enemy (like she; Aelin, told Rowan)

So on the weekends, I don't dress for friends, Lately I've been dressing for revenge

— the almond oil, combs of gold & hidden daggers, the dragon dress; for the woman she became (the heir of fire) the golden queen, no longer Celaena ‘an Assassin in a gilded cage’ & never to live in Rifthold the same, she enters the Keep for the last times with the monikers for the last time; she AND her court, leaving with even more (Lysandra) & heavily she enters to finish the final dealings for no one but (“her beloved dead” marked on her back) & for once; HERSELF; and as Aelin leaves merely masquerading like Celaena but no longer “Adarlan’s Assassin” (never to be again)

She needed cold hard proof so I gave her some

— crying then talking about 🩵Wesley💙&🩶Sam🖤

She had the envelope, where you think she got it from?

— literally Lysandra handing Aelin THE letter (aka envelope)💔

Now she gets the house, gets the kids, gets the pride

— 😏Celaena strolling into the Keep the very last time, as they read out the will of Arobynn Hamel💰

Picture me thick as thieves with your ex-wife

— Arobynn never expecting the two girls he pinned as enemies against each-other, to grow into women who go “huh that seems dumb” become besties & destroy him together; but that’s Karma for ya😘😘 (sry wrong song ;-)

And she looks so pretty

— the two of them in wigs & gowns, sneaking into balls, & shifting forms/blazing fire on the weeks of travel “home”

Driving in your Benz

— Aelin & Lysandra in the getaway carriage after saving Aedion & setting the first trap for Arobynn

Lately she's been dressing for revenge

— Lysandra taking the hidden note, then the stiletto under the pillow, then the final moment & blood on her hands

She don't start it, but she can tell you how it ends

— Lysandra was not the one ‘trained to kill’, but she was a storm within skin, a wolf masquerading as less; one that would die clawing for the ones she loves, for justice, for more

Don't get sad, get even

— the only sanity she (Lysandra) had waiting for Celaena/Aelin to come back someday

So on the weekends, She don't dress for friends, Lately she's been dressing for revenge

— Lysandra even as she becomes hundreds of people with the same face; for every ‘client’, every terrible thing done; so she can save THEM, Evangeline, get-out, or at least live out Wesley’s last wishes

Ladies always rise above

— “I knew you were a good woman” “No, I’m not. But Nehemia was.”

Ladies know what people want; Someone sweet and kind and fun

— every game you see the two of them play (& most women know; the ‘you’d be pretty if you smiled’ moments of nauseating fury & blaring all American bitch) … Aelin watching Lysandra in the vaults wondering how she stomachs ever sweet smile & ‘naive’ glance away from trouble; sleeping in the bed of the one she hates most; realizing she deserves justice even more than anyone

The lady simply had enough

— each of them in the final moment when it snapped into place: when Celaena decided she would not die in Endovier, when she made the list on the boat back to Rifthold, and when he tried to use the ring on her (to use her) … when he paid for Lysandra’s bid, when he took her only friend (Sam died), when Celaena was sent into slavery, when Wesley died (for trying to right it); when she saved Evangeline… when Aelin handed the FINAL note; and when she took it (& all the weight it holds)

While he was doing lines, And crossing all of mine

— every moment Lysandra had to sit & smile & make believe, crying as he slept soundly … when he hurts her for saving people, when she learns he hurt Sam too, when she unleashes the truth of the betrayal, when he makes her say she loves him

Someone told his white collar crimes to the FBI

— all of his Vaults & ‘investments’ being found by Adarlan soldiers, every enemy turned in, the friend she waved to so there was an alibi to prove his betrayals, & seal his demise; losing ‘clients’, money, name, credibility, everything & the end

And I don't dress for villains

— no longer the “King’s Champion” or ‘Assassin/for-hire’; no longer tattooed with the brand; they are BOTH finally free

Or for innocents

— how will they feel when they know their queen of assassins? her court of “whores”? “I will not enter my home again as someone else” all THOSE scenes “your queen is an assassin who appoints common whores to serve her” “What else is there to say, Princess? Do you think the people of Terrasen will be glad to have a queen who served their enemy? Who shared a bed with the son of their enemy?” “There is no one else l'd want guarding my back. If my people cannot see the worth of a woman who sold herself into slavery for the sake of a child, who defended my court with no thought for her own life, then they are not my people. And they can burn in hell.”

I'm on my vigilante shh again

— them and all their ongoing plans; the dragon, & becoming something new, a ghost leopard court; while staying true to them & their words, their REAL friendship (they both desperately needed the honesty) & what THEY make it to be together

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karespocketboyfriends · 3 months ago

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𝙾𝚑, 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚃𝚞𝚛𝚗

Sylus X Evie (OC)

Warnings -> 18+ NSFW (penetration/oral from both sides/lead switch/use of ‘miss, sir, kitten, sweetie’/use of collar & leash on Sylus/orgasm denial), situationship dynamic

An original fan-fiction for Love and Deepspace. I appreciate reblogs but reposting to Tumblr or any other site is not okay with me.

“Doesn’t someone look comfortable?” Sylus voice echoes in the empty room, the ‘throne room’ I like to call it. His eyes fixate on me as he locks the door behind him. “So, that’s where my jacket went.”

I sip from the wine glass in my hand, all the practice I’ve accumulated over the last year and a half helping me remain unbothered. Yes, I’m sitting in my boss’ massive chair with his signature coat draped over my shoulders. So what?

“You took your sweet time getting here.” I lick the wine from my lips and set the glass on a small table next to the chair. “I thought lackeys were supposed to drop everything when their boss calls.”

His lips curl into a smirk that would make a dog tuck its tail between its legs. “My apologies. Luke and Kieran said you called, but they didn’t say where you’d be.”

His shoes tap against the marble floor as he makes his way over at a leisurely pace. He steps up onto the dais and stops, his powerful gaze searing my skin as he drinks me in. Me, dressed in nothing but his jacket, black heels, and a brand new black lingerie set with lots of lace and straps.

“You’ve racked up quite a bill, kitten.” Sylus says, closing the distance between us in a two long strides. He stops when his shin touches my crossed knees.

I tilt my head and smirk up at him. “I seem to recall someone saying ‘don’t make me look broke’ while handing me their black card the night before. I guess I did a good job.”

Three-hundred dollars at the bookstore, two-thousand on new outfits, six-thousand at the most high end lingerie boutique I could find. Compared to what Onychinus has in its accounts, I’ve merely spent pennies.

“I told you to buy gifts for yourself.” He leans over and braces a hand on each armrest, caging me in. “But it seems you couldn’t stop yourself from spoiling me.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m here to spoil you.” I pinch his chin between my thumb and index finger. “There’s something else I want.”

“You’re greedy, kitten.” He grabs my wrist and brings my fingers to his lips, nipping the tips with his teeth. “I’ve given you my card, my title for the night, free rein to use my men as you please, and yet, you want more?”

Satisfaction takes route as I recall the pissed off looks some of the men had as I ordered them to scrub down the base. It’s a task I assigned to the ones who make a point to give me a hard time whenever Sylus isn’t looking.

“Sounds like someone should have chosen their words more carefully. Don’t you know telling me that I can ‘do whatever I want’ is dangerous?” I lean forward a little, just enough for my lips to reach his chin. “Don’t tell me you’re going back on your word?”

“Do you take me for a man who goes back on his word?”

“No.” Straightening myself out again, I smile sweetly and reach behind me. I wrap my fingers around the leather collar and chain leash, then hold it up to show him. “What do you say, Sylus? Make a birthday girl happy?”

His eyes narrow, a breathy chuckle escaping him. “You want to leash me?”

“Only if you’re comfortable.”

“Sweetie,” Sylus brings his lips to my ear. “If you want to tame me, I welcome you to try. Just know that the second this collar comes off, I am going to ravage you until your mind breaks.”

I bite back a moan at his sinful promise. “You should wait before saying such things. How do you know I won’t run you into the ground first?”

I fasten the collar around his neck, taking my time doing so. Sylus is pure arrogance as he watches me, his smirk so insufferable I want to put his mouth to better use.

I will soon enough.

“Too tight?” I ask, peering up at him.

His amusement only seems to grow. “It’s snug.”

“Good.” I wrap the chain around my fist and study him, trying to decide where and how to start. Then, I think of how he usually initiates the start of our games. “What do we say when we want this game to end, Sy?”

One of his brows raise, and I can’t tell if it’s from the unexpected nickname or from my question. Regardless, he plays along. “Crow.”

Something deep inside of me buzzes at his obedience. “Again.”

“Crow.” He dips his mouth to my ear again. “Remember, Evie, that the only reason you have this semblance of control is because I’m allowing it.”

I bite back a moan, determined to remain strong against the poison that is his baritone whispers. His claim is entirely true, and that’s what will make this experience all the more arousing. “It’s ’Miss’ to you.”

Sylus dips his head in acknowledgment, crimson eyes sparkling with mischief as he corrects himself. “Miss.”

It’s a fight to keep from squeezing my thighs together. “Good boy.”

I take a second to appreciate the way his brows pull together, then I tug on the chain until his lips fall onto mine.

When Sylus leads a kiss, it’s brutal, dominating, and all consuming. He robs you of everything that you are and moulds your will to his own desires. He offers none of that this time, merely playing along with my slower pace. It’s new and exciting and is making my blood run with a power I’ve never felt before.

The boss of Onychinus, a man feared by the most dangerous of men, is indulging in his assistant’s whims.

Without dropping the leash, my fingers find the buttons of his shirt and start popping them out one by one while simultaneously tugging on his lower lip with my teeth. Sylus hisses, and I use the opportunity to push my tongue into his mouth.

One of his hands slips into my hair, grabbing a fistful of the roots. I pull back with a tut and pause my work to tap the tip of his nose. “Ah ah. I didn’t give you permission to touch me.”

His nostrils flare, eyes narrowing, the muscle in his jaw ticking. I wait, part of me eager to see if he’ll ask for permission, a larger part knowing he won’t. Sylus may have given me the reins, but that doesn’t mean he won’t find ways to fight me. That’s just the kind of man he is; always having the upper hand even when he wants you to think otherwise.

He releases my hair and returns his hand to the armrest, fingers digging into the red leather.

“Stubborn.” I roll my eyes and go back to undoing the buttons. “If you want to touch me, all you have to do is ask nicely.”

He breathes a chuckle. “Do you think I would ever ask permission to touch what’s mine?”

“But I’m not yours this time.” With the last button finally out of the way, I push his sleeves down his shoulders until the shirt pools at his wrists. “You’re mine.”

Sylus’ stomach tightens as I trail a finger down the centre line of his abs. His next breath comes out on the heavy side, eyes closing and head dipping as if trying to fight off the feeling of my hands exploring his skin. Though this sensitivity of his isn’t a new discovery, being able to focus on and memorize the dips and ridges of his muscles without some kind of distraction is rare.

The bulge in his pants is noticeable, and a devil on my shoulder whispers in my ear. Biting the inside of my cheek, I glide my hand down the length of his body until I’m palming him through the fabric.

His hips buck, then he’s laughing. It comes from deep in his throat and almost sounds pained. “Is that all you’ve got, Miss? I’m disappointed.”

“Big talk for someone who looks like he’s about to combust.” Leaning forward, I graze my lips over his chest. “Is there something you want to ask me, Sy?”

Another chuckle. “You’re so desperate to see me beg, Miss. I wonder who’s really in charge here?” Sylus blows a gentle stream of air across my cheek, making me jump in surprise. “Why don’t you take off the collar and go back to being my special girl? I won’t even punish you.”

A moan works its way into my throat, but I swallow it down before it can escape. Glaring up at him, I pull my hand away and press my thumb against his lips. “I think it’s time we find a better use for that mouth of yours-”

Sylus catches my thumb between his teeth and massages the pad with his tongue, one corner of his mouth curling at the way my jaw goes slack. “You should see the look on your face right now.”

Shaking my head to snap myself out of it, I puff out my cheeks and give the leash a sharp tug. “Get on your knees. Now.”

He doesn’t look happy with the command, but complies anyway. I uncross my legs and bring them up so that my knees are bent, heels planted firmly on the edge of the chair. Then I pull on the chain again until Sylus is closer to where I want him - where I need him.

One eyebrow raising, he shifts his gaze from my body to me. “Are you insinuating that you want me to touch you, Miss?”

I tilt my head and flash a grin. “Do I need to spell it out for you? Actually, I’ll just show you.”

Before he can open his mouth for another arrogant response, I place a hand on the back of his head and pull his face between my thighs. Sylus chuckles and gives the inside of my thigh a gentle bite. Then, he pulls my underwear aside and slices through my wet folds with his tongue.

It’s my hips that buck this time, a long, quiet moan escaping. I slid my hand from the back of his head to the top, knotting my fingers in his hair and resting my other arm comfortably over my stomach. Sylus’ hands are still gripping the armrests, and though I desperately want to feel them on my thighs, holding me open so I can’t deny him, my stubbornness to make him ask for permission to touch me wins out.

“Sylus,” I breathe, feeling a knot start to take form in the pit of my stomach. “That feels really good.”

Still working to unravel me, Sylus glances up. Those signature bold eyes of his make my senses skyrocket, sends pins and needles racing through my core. I’m on the cusp of release-

His tongue changes its pattern, slowing down until his strokes are long and no longer rhythmic.

The feeling that had been building fizzles out. I open my eyes and glare down at him, irritated by the glimmer in his gaze. “Seriously?”

“Was I supposed to make something happen?” He speaks against me, his breath tickling the sensitive skin. “You didn’t give me an order.”

I huff. He’s really not going to make this easy for me. “Make me come, Sylus. Whatever you have to do, just make me come.”

It’s a total cop out, but I don’t care.

Sylus smirks, and it’s the only warning I get before his hands are suddenly on my thighs, dragging me a little further down the chair. He uses his shoulders to keep my legs apart, bands an arm across my stomach to pin me down, and reattaches his mouth to me so fast I almost choke on a gasp.

“Fuck!” I cry, clawing at my lingerie. The jacket still draped around me. The top of the chair. “Yes! Oh, god!”

He’s devouring me, pushing all the buttons he knows will render me useless. My ears ring with my climax, back bowing so deeply that if it wasn’t for him securing me in place, I probably would have slid off the chair.

Chest heaving when I come back down, I scramble to separate myself from his burning mouth. “S-Stop. Enough!”

I push on his forehead, and he backs off. Licking his lips, he chuckles at the state of me. “Ready to give up?”

Breathless, and still feeling the aftershocks, I glare at him in response. When my limbs are willing to obey me again, I lift a leg and press my heel into his chest, carefully shoving him away and loosening the length of the chain so I have room to maneuver. Turning my back to him, I dig my knees into the leather cushion and lean my upper half against the back of the chair, arms resting on top of it. I make a point of slowly looking back over my shoulder, smirking at the predatory shine in his eyes.

Right now, he looks like a caged animal, one that’s patiently waiting to be unleashed. He’s somewhat docile now, but the second I set him free…

My spine tingles in anticipation. Not yet. “Up, Sylus.”

He scoffs, but rises. “You’re getting a little too comfortable ordering me around, Miss.”

Now that he’s standing, I loop the leash around my fist again, tightening it until his lips are within reach of my own. This time, the kiss is a battle, a war for control. Sylus is a patient man, but everyone has their limits. His is starting to thin, and I want nothing more than to bring him to the brink of snapping.

His hand wraps around my throat, and I moan into his mouth. Instead of scolding him for touching like last time, I push my hips back, pressing my ass into his groin.

Sylus hisses, but doesn’t rock against me the way I hope for. He’s standing his ground, slipping back into the dominating role that, rightfully, is his. “Now, Miss, I think it’s time you set things back to the way they normally are.”

“No.” I giggle against his lips, which were hovering right above mine, so close his breathes are tickling my skin. The grin that pulls at his lips in response to my refusal is almost sinister. “I’m still playing.”

Sneaking a hand between us, I palm his bulge again. His next inhale is sharp, gaze so intense it feels as though it’s burning through me. It’s a dare, I realize, and decide to take him up on it. I fumble with the button on his slacks, pull the zipper down, and free him. Sylus is firm in my hand, doesn’t argue as I line him up at my entrance.

“Do it.” I command.

He’s buried to the hilt a moment later, my arousal making it easy to take all of him in one go. A sound escapes me at the stretch, something between a moan and a sigh that turns into a pathetic keening at his lack of urgency to move.

“Sy,” I sing his name in a teasing tone. “You’re being stubborn again.”

He nips my earlobe, hands gripping the top of the chair on either side of me, caging me between his toned arms. “Am I being stubborn, or are you forgetting that you’re supposed to be running the show, Miss?”

I’m starting to believe that ‘running the show’ isn’t what I imagined it to be. Perhaps it’s just old habits wiggling their way in, but being told what to do is much less work and a lot more fun than doing the telling.

But I’m still not ready to hand over the reins. Not yet.

I puff out my cheeks and widen my stance a little. It comes more from muscle memory than anything else, night after night of Sylus ruining me ingrained into my very being. “I never give you this much of a hard time.”

He chuckles and brushes his lips over my cheek, silver hair tickling my temple. “No, you don’t.”

That’s all I get from him. The lack of praise throughout this experience is starting to get to me, but if I admit that, I may as well take off his collar and put it around my own neck.

I shake off the thought, the voice whispering in the back of my mind to call it quits, and take my pleasure into my own hands. It’s different, moving back and forth on him instead of being told to stay still and take it. It’s… a mess. My pace is sloppy and uneven, my body unable to figure out how to make him reach the spots I want. Going too fast throws my balance off, and I’m not physically strong enough to take him any harder. Then there’s my lack of stamina, my thighs already beginning to burn at the effort.

“Would you like some help, Miss?” Sylus asks. I don’t need to look to know that he’s smirking, I can hear it in his voice.

“Shut. Up.”

Thirty seconds later, I all but collapse against the back of the chair, unable to keep it up any longer. A laugh comes from behind me, one so full of arrogance it both pisses me off and does me in.

I concede.

Frustrated but content with the fun I’ve had, I recite the most basic mental prayer I can come up with and tug on the leash, bringing Sylus’ head closer. Keeping my eyes forward, I reach up and fumble with the collar’s buckle until it comes loose and falls from his neck.

Time seems to stop as the collar and chain hit the floor, the dull thud echoing. The air in the room shifts drastically, becoming so heavy and intense it’s almost suffocating.

In the blink of an eye, I suddenly find myself turned sideways on the chair, knees still on the cushion but forearms bracing on the armrest.

One of his hands is in my hair, lightly pulling on the roots as he grabs a fist full. “Open.”

Heat and relief rushes through my body at the familiarity of his commanding voice, and I swallow him down as deeply as my throat will allow. It burns at first, the thickness of him always a challenge, but my gag reflex doesn’t trigger. I’ve had enough practice over the last ten months we’ve been messing around to train it.

“That’s it.” Sylus growls, rubbing circles onto my scalp with his thumb. “You’re much better suited to pleasing me than giving orders.”

I hum around him in agreement, and his fingers tighten in my hair. I subconsciously cross my ankles and squeeze my thighs together, seeking out friction to combat the need building in me. The chances of him giving me anything right now are low, especially after the stunt I just pulled. So instead of asking him to touch me, I put all of my focus into making him feel good.

“Good girl.” Sylus praises after some time. I pull off him for a break, needing a proper chance to catch my breath, and he tilts my chin up until my eyes meet his. “Is this your way of telling me you’re sorry?”

I nod and part my lips for him when he presses his thumb against them. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

He clicks his tongue. “That’s not a sincere apology. I thought I taught you better than that, Evie.”

The way my name rolls off his tongue has a low, quiet moan escaping. “I’m sorry for stepping out of line earlier, Sir.”

“Better.”

His massive hand wraps around my throat, and he guides me up until my back is straight. Sylus claims my mouth, thumb and index finger braced against either side of my jaw so he can hold my mouth open for his tongue to invade. I feel as though I’m being branded, and it makes the space between my thighs start to pulse with desire. My hands urge to touch him, but I keep them at my sides. Doing anything without permission will only make him deny me longer.

I’m gasping for air when he finally breaks the kiss. I don’t need a mirror to know my face is flushed - my entire body probably is. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Oh?” He chuckles, and wipes away a wet spot on the corner of my mouth. “What are you thanking me for? I haven’t said I forgave you.”

My eyes go wide. “B-But-!”

“Ah-ah.” He kisses me again, just a long, single kiss. “If you really mean it, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that to prove it to me. Wrap your arms around me.”

I loop them over his shoulders and behind his neck. Sylus scoops me up from beneath my thighs and sits in his chair, placing me on his lap so I’m straddling him.

“Up.” He commands, tapping my hip.

I lift myself onto my knees, holding onto his shoulders for support. He doesn’t scold me for it, either because he doesn’t care or because he’s too focused on lining himself up. I bite my lip as his tip brushes against my sensitive skin, and without thinking, I prepare to sink down on him.

The way his hand squeezes my hip alerts me to my mistake. “Don’t. You know better.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Not because I can’t face him, but because my need to be filled is getting painful. “I-I’m sorry, Sir.”

With a deep hum, Sylus gently pinches my right nipple through my bra. The sudden touch has me gasping and arching my back. “You’re making a lot of apologizes tonight. I wonder if you’ll be able to keep up with them all.”

He soothes the area with a flick of his tongue, the lingerie material thin enough that I can feel it easily. My thighs start to tremble, the tease of him being right there becoming too much to bear. “I will, Sir. I promise.”

“I’m holding you to that.” His eyes briefly flicker down to where we’re almost connected. “Show me how sorry you are, Evie.”

Now that I finally have his permission, I sink down on him. My body doesn’t need any time to adjust, my walls still ready and eager to accept him. Sylus doesn’t offer any direction, neither verbal nor physical - he just sits back and watches me, leaving me to figure it out of my own.

And this, for some reason, peaks my arousal higher than it had been all night.

Moving is much easier in this position, as I’m able to find more momentum in the up and down strokes as opposed to back and forth, but it doesn’t take long for my lack of stamina to kick in again. My hamstrings start to burn, but I chose to ignore it and push through.

“Stop.” Sylus’ voice cuts through the fog of my simmering pleasure, and though I whine about it, I’m grateful for the break. “I told you to show me how sorry you are, not to strain yourself.” His chuckle rings in my blood. “What? Do you need me to tell you what to do, sweetie? I thought you liked to lead things on your own.”

Jerk.

With another whine, I shake my head. “No, Sir. I like when you’re in control.”

He hums. “That’s what I thought.”

He grips my hips, but instead of moving me up and down the way I had been, he guides me forward and back. My jaw drops at the rush of pleasure that follows. “Oh, fuck…”

Moving this way has him repeatedly hitting a spot inside me that sends sparks rushing down my spine. Pressure starts to build in the pit of my stomach, one that keeps getting stronger and stronger with each rock.

Eyes squeezing shut, nails digging into his shoulders, I fight to keep from falling apart. “Can I come, Sir?”

“Oh? Do you think you deserve to come after your behaviour tonight, Evie?”

I don’t, but I’m so close to release, I’ll do anything to make it happen. “Please, Sir?”

He hums, making a show of thinking about it. “No.”

Hands on my waist, Sylus lifts me off him, abruptly cutting me off. I cry out in protest, nails biting into his shoulders. “I said I was sorry!”

“I know.” Sylus kisses my shoulder. It’s terribly gentle, a complete contrast to the cruelty he just showed. “I forgive you, but I’m in control. I don’t mind spending the whole night retraining you.”

SFW Masterlist || NSFW Masterlist

Tag List

@softlycandescent @goat-mama-breezie

#l&ds #lads #lnds #love and deepspace #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #x oc #lnds smut #l&ds smut #lads smut

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hetalianskywalker · 6 months ago

Text

Day 30: The Wait

Pairing: Mer Fordo x Goddess Reader

Summary: Fordo gets sent to rescue what he believes is a myth.

Author’s Note: I might have gotten distracted reader fan fiction.

Warnings: Talking about feeling trapped. Some angst about depression and passively giving up. But not in detail.

Word Count: 1237

Prompt: The church is tiny, walls of salt crusted driftwood and windows of stained sea glass. The goddess of sea foam lives there, sighing her days away, waiting for a champion.

Prompt 2947 by deepwaterwritingprompts

Jango thinks over his options for how to defend the Mandalore Sector when the Empire rallies its strength. Mer are coming in from everywhere along with an influx of his Mer clones. However, with the population cut by the recent civil war with Death Watch, it’s not going to be enough. He’s not going to get an entire army of Mer clones and they are aging too quickly. His riduur has full faith that Clan Shirata will have that solved eventually and to not under any circumstances bother them.

He is so deep in thought he doesn’t notice his hands have turned to claws, clicking against the arms of his throne. He still deeply dislikes the politics of being Sea Alor; he would much rather be doing the fighting instead of the ruling. And he will be doing that when the empire comes, but even Sea Alors have limits.

“You could always see if the sea dragons are real?” Boba offers sarcastically with a half smile. The fact his son was now a teenager is still a weird thought to wrap his mind around.

“They are real, but…” Jango thinks about it over a long moment. There is an ancient myth about one of the Sea Alors ordering the dragons to sleep. Jango had also believed the myths to be false until Jaster showed him the stone remnants of one at the bottom of an ocean trench. “There would only be a handful left if that. It’s something to consider though.”

“Dragons are real…” Boba stares at him in utter disbelief and Jango resists the very powerful urge to laugh. He can remember his own similar reaction.

“We might as well send a champion to free the goddess of sea foam then.” Boba chuckles, trying to regain his composure.

“That’s not a bad idea either.”

“What!?”

The church is tiny, walls of salt crusted driftwood and windows of stained sea glass. The goddess of sea foam lives there, sighing her days away, waiting for a champion. It’s an ancient myth Fordo has heard many times.

There was once an age of gods born of magic itself. There were far too many deities to count, but the god of the sea created the Mer and established the island of Mandalore as the center of all sea magic. Eventually, the gods began to die off. The sea did not leave his children without protection and blessed the first Sea Alor with the last of his power. As he lay dying, he told the Sea Alor that there was one deity left: his youngest child. He had locked her away to protect her from what was happening to every other deity. And only a champion could release her.

Fordo had thought Jango had lost his mind when he gave him this mission and told him the long passed down location. Fordo was one of the first and only Alpha ARCs to come to Mandalore after the end of the war. If the myth was true, he understood why he was being sent; returning with a deity who is hidden behind a multitude of magic barriers, traps, and a sea serpent would require an Alpha ARC. Either way though, if the Sea Alor had lost his mind, at least he wasn’t stuck with Alpha-17’s mission.

Fordo had just arrived when the Ice Sea Dragon had landed with Commander Mayday. The legends of their strength were far more accurate than he wanted to admit. He did not envy the fact Alpha was given orders to bring back the Sea Dragon that was refusing the Sea Alor’s call. He was starting to think Alpha’s theory that Jango hated him had more truth than he originally thought.

The church is tiny, walls of salt crusted driftwood and windows of stained sea glass. You, the goddess of sea foam, live here, sighing your days away, waiting for a champion. Your life has been long slumbers and waiting for far too long. It’s becoming harder for you to remember what the other gods looked like or how the ocean feels on your skin.

Something interrupts your numb and unending routine. A Mer dressed in red and white armor opens the front doors; doors that never opened for you no matter how you kicked and screamed against them.

“Are you the goddess of sea foam?” He pants, trying to catch his breath. This is another hallucination; there is no one really there. You turn and look out the door. The ocean looks so real.

“Are you my champion?” You ask softly. You delicately walk up to him and reach out your hand. His gloved one meets yours; you both stare in complete and utter blissful shock when neither of you disappears.

You practically launch yourself into his arms. You cry out in relief at not being forgotten as you hold onto him for dear life. Deep down, you’re still afraid he will vanish and you shall continue on your father’s well meaning prison. You are finally leaving.

He introduces himself as Fordo as he maneuvers you to carry you bridal style; he had no doubt noticed the terrible state of your legs after not moving around your prison for the last who knows how long. You lost track of how long ago you gave up.

You give him your true name as you wrap your arms around his neck. He gently walks you out into the open air of your hidden island. You're crying when you see the world you had been locked away from; you had forgotten how bright and beautiful it is.

Fordo walks you down to the shore and you stare in awe at what was once your father’s domain. “Thank you.”

He gives you a gentle squeeze in reply before heading out into the water. Fordo shifts into his massive red and white tail. You laugh at the feeling of using your gills again, but don’t change in any other way.

He gives a small smile when you notice he’s watching you. You flush, looking anywhere else. “Don’t be embarrassed.” Fordo says understandingly. “I think we all had reactions like that when we realized that we could enjoy the rest of the world outside Kamino.”

“What do you mean?” It concerns you that he understood your feeling of being trapped and the joy of freedom afterward. The idea of someone keeping your rescuer locked away from the world bothers you greatly.

“It’s a long story.” He states looking at the waters ahead. You both have to get past all the old magic barriers to get to his ship.

“We have time.” You urge. While he avoids it at first, you wear him down over the long journey home.

You almost slap the Sea Alor when you make it to Mandalore. While Fordo finds it attractive, he’s not about to deal with the fallout and holds your hand so you can’t attempt it. With the empire coming, you all have other things to worry about.

While you aren't a powerful combative yourself, you can multiply the magic of the Mer around you. With such an important ability, Fordo gets assigned to guard you and you don’t let the opportunity go to waste to get to know your champion better.

Love comes much later, but it comes. After waiting so long for freedom, everything else seems like an inconsequential wait. Besides, Fordo is worth it.

#star wars #the clone wars #clone wars 2003 #captain fordo #captain fordo x reader #mermay #rare clone x reader #mermaid au

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