#also i think if he was any closer.. knowing his luck razor would immediately shift so that he's snoring directly into the poor guy's ear

[feenmies]

greedy

[bonjour-rainycity]

Cold Shoulder

Pairing: Aragorn x Female Reader

Rating: T 

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this nor do I own anything recognizable. Also, I edited after a glass of wine. So. I think I shall blame any mistakes on that. 

Word count: 2317

Warnings: Mild descriptions of violence

Request: Aragorn x Reader where he protects the reader but she is mad at him because of that and gives him a silent shoulder. Much fluff please (Anon)

A/n Anon, thank you for the request!! I enjoyed writing this and love me some Aragorn content <3 Also, for context, I placed the reader in the Fellowship. Okay, read on!

The sharp cry pierces the peace of the early morning.

“Orcs!”

Legolas, who had been standing watch and discovered the threat, immediately begins firing arrows, keeping the pack at bay. The rest of us spring into action, drawing weapons and shouldering our bags, looking to Aragorn to determine our next move. Despite the jolt of fear that runs through me, I know that luck is on our side. For one, our group had planned to set out shortly, meaning our camp is packed and we run no risk of leaving anything behind. Second, it was Legolas on watch, and his keen eyesight gave us critical early warning.

I feel a rough hand wrap around mine, and I’m yanked into a sprint. I nearly stumble at the speed Aragorn sets, but force myself to keep pace. A quick look at my surroundings tells me why we’re running — our camp is secluded, but there are too many high spots around us for it to be favorable in a fight. I can assume that we are making for higher or more open ground, so that we will not be at a disadvantage when the orc pack inevitably catches us.

There’s a muffled yelp, and I whip my head around to see Frodo tripping and falling roughly to the ground.

“Aragorn—” His name has barely left my lips when I feel his hands on my back, spurring me on, and he leaves my side, running back to aid our hobbit friend. Closer than I would like, the wails of the orc grow louder, and, at my right, Boromir speeds up, hauling Merry along with him.

The three of us break through the tree-line first, and immediately, an arrow whizzes above my head.

Damn it, they cut us off!

I don’t have much time to dwell on how the monsters got around us unnoticed, because a tall, imposing orc lunges in my direction. I raise my dagger and put all my focus into not letting the orc’s razor-sharp sword pierce my skin.

The shrieks and grunts of battle, as well as the shrill clanking of metal hitting metal fill the air. The orc jabs his sword at me, and I jump to my left. As the orc takes another swing, an arrow soars mere millimeters from my ear and imbeds itself in my attacker’s eye. I don’t even have time to shoot Legolas a thankful glance, because another beast catches my arm and pulls me against his foul-smelling side. I swipe at his arm with my dagger, and with a howl of pain, he throws me to the ground, raising his sword. I roll to the side, narrowly dodging the slice of steel, and push myself back to my feet. The orc is distracted, struggling with his weapon which is embedded in the ground, leaving the side of his neck exposed. I lift my dagger, and step forward, intent on ending this fight—

An arm grips my waist and pulls me back, moving me out of the way and slaying the orc.

I gawk at Aragorn, who, with the focused eyes of battle, rips his sword free of the orc’s neck and spins, killing a beast to his right.

“I had it,” I shout over the noise, unable to contain my frustration.

Aragorn straightens to face me, eyes wide. “Your back!”

Immediately, I turn on my heel and raise my dagger, pushing against the knife meant to impale my unguarded back. The orc is stronger than me, but if I can hold him off for just a few seconds more, I can reach for my other dagger and stab him in the stomach. As my hand twitches towards my belt, a sword passes around my side, impaling the orc with a sickening squelch.

Once again, I fix Aragorn with disbelieving eyes.

What was the point of investing all that time training me if I don’t get to use any of said training?!

The sounds of battle begin to fade, and, with a final swing of Gimili’s axe, the fighting is done.

We take stock of our injuries which are, thankfully, minor, and pull the dead orc deep into the tree line, not wanting to draw attention to our path. After the quickest of rests and a wash-up in the stream, we continue, Aragorn insisting that we cannot take any unnecessary delays now that we have orc interested in us.

We begin our trek, mostly in tired silence.

At the front of the group, Aragorn and Legolas do a mixture of scouting and chatting, seeming more relaxed the farther we get from the site of the attack. Aragorn doesn’t usually walk with me, preferring instead to lead with Legolas and keep an eye out for danger. Usually, I wish he would stay by my side, but today, I am grateful for the distance, as I’m not feeling too kindly towards him at the moment. I can’t stop myself from glaring at his back, resenting him taking away my right to handle myself in battle. But after an hour of lonely overthinking, resentment gives way to insecurity. What if he only jumped in because he thinks I’m weak? He’s probably not the only one…compared to everyone else, what advantages do I have? They probably all, to some extent, see me as a burden.

Gimli jogs up next to me, fixing me with a mildly concerned look.

“You alright, lassie? Not hurt, are ya?”

Aragorn’s head tilts in our direction. He’s listening.

Unable to contain my annoyance at his continued monitoring, I huff. “I’m fine, Gimli, thanks. Just tired.”

Gimli looks at the ground, seemingly unable to reconcile my usual friendliness with this foul mood. “Aye, well, t’is to be expected, after the morning we had. You fought well.”

I cross my arms, cocking my head to the side. “Did I? Because, as I remember it, I was barely allowed to fight at all.”

At this, I hear light sniggering behind me, and whip my head around to see a quickly composed Merry and Pippin looking anywhere but me.

Gimli makes a sighing, almost grumbling noise, and walks off to join his friends at the front of the group. Aragorn hangs back a little, waiting for me to catch up before resuming a slower pace.

“What troubles you?”

Getting right to the chase, then.

I huff angrily, my annoyance from this morning only growing now that I’ve had hours to stew about it. Because really, I am well-trained, I am capable, and he had no business neglecting his own safety to help me when I wasn’t in any actual danger. I had it all under control! And rather than feeling like a warrior equal with my companions, I feel like a girl who just slows them down and needs babysitting.

Aragorn stops walking and grips my elbow lightly, pulling me to stop with him. “I cannot help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

I glare at him. Can I handle nothing on my own?! “Well, maybe I don’t want your help, Aragorn.”

He sighs, sounding frustrated, but lets me go.

Neither of us makes an attempt to talk to the other for the remainder of our hike.

{***}

We stop when it is well and properly dark, making hasty camp. I drop my bedroll and begin preparing for the night, cleaning my dagger and shoes as best I can. The others sit on rocks near the fire, eyeing me warily.

Pippin elbows Merry and hisses in a low voice,“go and talk to her, something’s obviously wrong with her.”

Merry’s eyes grow comically wide, and he fixes his friend with an indignant expression. “Why does it have to be me, then?! I don’t want to get yelled at.”

“Because I checked on Frodo last Thursday when he was in a mood, and now it’s your turn.”

“I didn’t realize we were taking turns,” Merry whisper-shouts, oblivious to the fact that everyone can hear their argument just fine.

Sam fixes them with a pleading look before glancing over to me. “Miss Y/n, do you not want supper?” He hesitantly holds a bowl in my general direction.

“No, thank you,” I respond, cooler than intended. He blinks at me for a moment, and then hands the bowl to an amused Boromir.

I feel the weight of everyone’s questioning stares, hear their hushed whispers, and cannot take it one moment longer.

“I’m going to get more firewood,” I declare, tucking my dagger back into my belt and trudging deeper into the forest.

The woods are dark, but there is sufficient light from the moon, and I pick my way through the trees, looking for fallen logs and branches. I don’t stray to where I can no longer hear the voices of my friends, though — I may be angry, but I’m not stupid.

Less than two minutes later, the sound of light footsteps creeps into my hearing.

Aragorn walks to my side, bending to grasp and examine a log that might make for good firewood. He doesn’t look at me when he speaks. “Sam put aside some soup for you, though I would not delay if you wish to eat it. I saw Pippin eyeing it with interest.”

When I don’t laugh or give any indication that I heard him, he shifts on his feet, unsure. “I feel tension between us. I’ve upset you?”

I make a noncommittal noise and go a few yards deeper in the forest.

“Y/n?”

With a resigned sigh, I turn to face him, knowing that my silence is hurting him. “It’s stupid.”

Obviously pleased that I’m speaking to him now, Aragorn takes quick steps towards me, wearing an open expression. “If I have done something to hurt you, you have every right to be upset.”

I resist the urge to groan. Stop being so good and noble, it makes it hard to stay mad at you. I reign in my frustrations and sigh, forcing myself to look him in the eyes. “I feel like the weakest link. I’m the youngest, the only woman, I don’t possess any special abilities or extensive battle experience. I put a lot of work into being competent with my daggers, and still there are days when I question my right to be here with you all. So when you jump in to protect me, well-intentioned as you may be, I feel like a child that needs looking after rather than someone capable of standing her own ground.”

His face falls, and discomfort spreads in my stomach. But before I can apologize and take back my words, he offers his hands, and I take them gratefully.

“I did not consider how my actions would make you feel, though I understand now. Forgive me, Y/n?”

At his heartfelt words, my anger ebbs away. I use my grip on his hands to pull him closer and rest my forehead against his chest. “Of course.”

He pulls back slightly to bring my hands to his lips, pressing kisses on my knuckles. “I intervened during the fight not because I think you incapable, but because I wanted to keep you as much removed from the danger as possible. You are precious to me, Y/n. I won’t risk losing you.”

At this, he leans his forehead against mine, and I can’t help how I soften at his words. I didn’t think about it like that. “There is the slightest possibility that I may have accidentally overreacted a little.”

Aragorn rewards me with a deep chuckle, one I can feel vibrating through his chest, and shakes his head against mine. “Are you sure, my love? I think ignoring me all day was a completely proportionate response.”

I roll my eyes at the dripping sarcasm in his voice and raise a hand to smack his chest. Before I can get anywhere near him, his own hand shoots out and grabs my wrist —  an act that has me grumbling in irritation and him shaking with laughter. Once he regains composure, he brings my wrist to his lips and places the softest of kisses there, watching my face carefully for my reaction.

I look away, trying to distract myself from the fluttering in my stomach. He trails a line of kisses up my forearm, and I scramble for something to say before my brain gets scattered beyond help. “For the record, you mean the world to me and I would defend you in battle too, if the need were to arise.”

His lips pause against my skin. I turn my head back to him to see that he’s, much to my annoyance, trying to fight a smile. Unable to school his smirk, he raises his head, still holding my hand in his. “I thank you, dearest, but I hardly believe that will be necessary. I’ve been battling for decades, I can handle a few stray orc.”

I step back out of his embrace, crossing my arms and regarding him with raised eyebrows.

He realizes his mistake.

“Oh—um, I meant, I—”

I shake my head. “No, you know what? Not ‘should the need arise’, I’ll just do it anyway! Next fight, you better watch out buddy, I’m throwing myself in front of anything that comes at you!”

His eyes blow open and his voice takes on a strangled quality. “Y/n, please don’t, that’s just unnecessary—”

“Nope!” I stomp away from him, picking up branches at random. “You brought this upon yourself. Get ready to be defended!”

Before walking back to camp, I turn to give him a sickeningly sweet smile. “I love you.”

Aragorn dramatically drops his head into his hands. “I shall die from stress.”

Our companions, who obviously heard our argument, roar with laughter.

A/n Thank you for reading! If you have a moment, I’d love it if you could check out my masterlist! Thank you :)

[brutal-nemesis]

Saltwater Day 2021: Dinner Date with an Eel 💕

Feel that ocean breeze, baby! Cries in lives in a very landlocked area I hope y’all are having some fun in the salty spray ✨Today we finally get to see a Castys misadventure that I’ve talked about in the tags before: the big boy drowning incident! So sit back, relax, and enjoy the agony <3

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: drowning, animal attack, self harm to escape danger, sort of self amputation, gore, broken bones, suicide for convenience (immortal)

Castys had jumped off of higher cliffs before. Granted, he had done it because he was too lazy to walk to the bottom, and he’d landed on solid rock, and it had been very painful for all of two seconds, so this didn’t make him any less terrified of being shoved off of this one. And yes, that’s right, he was going to be shoved off of this one, into the crashing waves below, which was certainly how he’d planned on spending the morning. Nothing better to start the day than a pointless execution!

Oh, but why are you being executed, Castys, you’re so good and noble and also immortal so this isn’t going to work is it. No, no it’s not going to work. And Castys was being “executed” because, well...turns out people don’t take too kindly to finding out you’re the dreaded Pirate King Ragnarok. As usual, he’d fought and tried to get away, and as usual he’d failed miserably. So here he was, wrists chained together behind his back, ankles chained to a stupidly large rock, and a cloth tied tightly around his mouth.

He tried not to think about having to deal with this arrangement once he was underwater, which was something he was less than excited for. There was already quite a large crowd gathered so, hey, at least he was popular. Actually, scratch that, based on the looks he was getting, he was definitely unpopular. He shifted a bit, causing the men gripping his arms to tighten their grasp. He huffed, wishing he had the ability to tell them to chill the fuck out.

“People of Meruna, we are gathered her today for the execution of the notorious-“ oh my FUCK nevermind just push him off already this whole thing was already bad enough without a speech about all his crimes and whatever. Not that he didn’t love hearing about his exploits, because fuck if he regretted any of it, but the sun was hot and he was tired of standing. That water was going to feel so good...until it was filling his lungs ugh nope don’t think about it like that he was just going for a nice swim that’s all. He was going to be in the nice, cool water without any of these assholes glaring at him, and he’d get out of these chains somehow and come back in ten years and release all their goats and that would show them.

All of a sudden, the hands on him started to push him towards the edge of the cliff, a third guard rolling the rock he was chained to along using her foot. Fuck, fuck the speech was over they were doing it he was going over the edge he’d just been joking earlier he really didn’t want to even if the water would feel good he’d rather stand out here all day because that sure as hell was better than drowning over and over and over the edge the air was rushing by the top of the cliff was getting farther and farther away any second now he-

Castys screamed into the gag as he slammed into the cold water, wasting his last breath of air like an idiot before he started to sink beneath the crashing waves, pulled down by the boulder attached to his ankles. He could only squirm uselessly as he sank deeper and deeper, the soaked-through gag filling his mouth with the taste of saltwater, just to make things even more unpleasant. His arms were killing him, and, you know what, they took the brunt of the impact with the water, so they were probably fucking broken, weren’t they? At least they would heal after...after he drowned for the first time. Already his lungs were starting to burn, but thankfully the rock had finally hit the bottom, so he wouldn’t sink any further and therefore the painful pressure on his ears wasn’t going to get any worse, at the very least. 

Positives, positives, since he was probably going to be here for a while...it wasn’t so stupidly hot anymore, instead it was stupidly cold, and already his fingers were starting to go numb-nope, nope, not a positive, let’s try again. It was rather pretty down here, despite the fact that black spots were starting to cloud his vision, and also things were starting to get kinda...woozy, a little bit, a little, hell-o and goodbye, wasn’t it time now? Yeah, yes, the burning was too much it hurt hurt hurt everything was black and black was good bec-

He didn’t bother counting how many times he drowned. Maybe it would have helped pass the time or something, but, let’s be real, there were better things to focus on than how many times he’d experienced the horrible burning in his lungs and that awful lightheadedness. His broken arms had healed up, so that was something, but they were still very much shackled behind his back. If they were free he could at least get that stupid gag out of his mouth and try to fuck with the chain connecting his ankles to that dumb rock. He settled for looking around the underwater landscape surrounding him, glad that sunset was still a ways off. As far as he could tell.

When he could see and think clearly, it was kind of cool to be down here, circumstances aside. All sorts of fish, many of them varieties that he knew what they tasted like, swam around between the wavy water plants. There was even a really big lookin’ boy off in the distance that he’d seen out of the corner of his eye a few times, though it was coming closer now, and he was just starting to be able to make out...wait-was that a-great. Absolutely fantastic, just what he needed. A fucking shreilian eel. How dare he drown over and over in peace, no, no let’s add a vicious man-eating monster to the mix! At least he wasn’t bleeding, so the creature wouldn’t be immediately drawn to him. He’d get to keep his limbs intact for a little longer-wait wait wait. Okay that was absolutely crazy and sounds entirely unfun, but...it might just work.

Castys mustered as much strength as he could, ignoring the ever-present burning of his lungs, and began to clumsily bash himself against the nearby wall of stone. It was coated in barnacles and the like, but their sharp edges were just what he was looking for. Soon enough, he felt the awful sting of saltwater in the many small cuts that were now littering his arm. Fuck, that was nowhere near enough blood to get that eel over here, and his vision was starting to go dark. If he didn’t get that damn thing over here now he’d die and heal and have to do this bullshit all over again no no no get over here you stupid thing fuck yeah that feels like a nice gash it burns to high hell but so does everything and look at all that bloody water or maybe it’s just getting too dark because it is dark and...so...hurt…

When he came back to life, there was a small cloud of blood swirling in the water around him, but it was dissipating more and more by the second. He couldn’t see the eel anywhere, and if that bastard disappeared on him after all that...Instinctively, he tried to take a deep breath and ended up sucking a bunch of water up his nose like an absolute idiot, his nostrils now burning just as much as his even more waterlogged lungs. His body tried to cough, but it was just painful and useless like everything else he’d done while stuck down here, and he just ended up thrashing around like an injured fish.

Just what the eel had been waiting for.

It felt like he’d suddenly been hit by a mace, slamming him into the rocks, his arm lighting up with the pain of a thousand hot spikes, almost too intense for him to even process, the salty water magnifying every little agony tenfold. Castys was certain he would have been screaming if he had the air, and as much as this was absolutely fucking terrible, he hoped the eel would do it again. It had bitten off a good chunk of his arm as far as he could tell, but not enough to completely sever it and free him from the restraints. And for once, his horrid luck regarding avoiding pain paid off. The eel rammed into him again, ripping off more of his arm with its razor-sharp teeth and causing the bones of his forearm to crack. 

Sensing his chance, Castys grabbed the manacled wrist of his shredded arm with his good hand, bit down on the gag, and pulled. He couldn’t give up, couldn’t stop, not after enduring this much, he could feel his flesh tearing, sending out sparks of agony unlike anything he’d ever known, and he had to keep pulling, pulling and jerking and tearing and twisting and praying, praying that he could rip it off before he drowned again, which, hey, kind of a weird thing to want, not that he hadn’t had to amputate his own limbs before, but weird that it was happening again, and honestly, this hurt way more than the other times, but wasn’t that always the case-and fuck there was no way he was going to be able to just snap his bones like this, and he needed it to be completely severed, and there was no time, wedge it against the rocks and pull pull pull until there was a snap and a burst of unholy agony, so intense it almost smothered the relief, so fierce it made him forget he was drowning up until the moment his oxygen-starved brain lost consciousness. 

Castys’s arms were free. Well, one was free, and the other one was still manacled, attached to...what was left over after all that. He ripped the gag out of his mouth, resisting the urge to suck in mouthfuls of air that were absolutely not there. Looking down at his ankles, he wasn’t sure if-his body exploded with pain as the eel rammed into him again, taking a chunk of flesh from his side, which was definitely not where he wanted to be bitten. Gritting his teeth against the anguish that almost consumed him, he grabbed the wrist of his severed arm and clumsily smeared blood around his ankles, hoping it would entice the monster to attack them and help set him free. 

It worked, and it didn’t. The eel attacked him again and again, no longer pausing in between bites to circle him. Castys wasn’t even sure where it was biting him anymore, he just knew that everything hurt, the saltwater in his wounds magnifying the pain so much that there was no discernible source. He didn’t try to fight the eel off, hoping it would just do enough damage to his legs that he could get free, but he wasn’t sure if he could have even tried to get it away from him if he wanted to. Things were getting so dizzy so fast, all of a sudden, there was nothing to do but wait and die and hurt…

When he came back to life, Castys was disappointed to find that he was not floating to the surface. In fact, one of his ankles felt kind of weird, like it wasn’t shackled anymore, but still...for fuck’s sake. One of his ankles had been freed, torn enough to shreds before he’d died that the manacle had come off, but the other one was...well the manacle wasn’t around his ankle so much as it was…in his ankle. How the fuck that had happened, he had no clue. He just knew he had to deal with it. Looking around, the eel wasn’t anywhere to be seen, probably full to bursting after its meal, and though his heart sank a little at the thought that he couldn’t rely on it anymore, he was also slightly relieved, because that thing had been vicious. It had, however, left a parting gift. He swam downwards and grabbed the smooth fang off of the sandy ocean bottom, gripping it tightly. Just a little bit more. 

He had endured so much already, felt pain more intense, experienced sensations more gruesome, but this...this was more active than everything else that had happened down here. More visible. He had to make every stab and slice deliberately, had to watch the tooth do its damage, it wasn’t mindless bashing or praying he’d get bitten in the right places, but an active choice to cut his flesh away, inviting burning seawater into a wound once again, and it was difficult. Part of him wanted to stop, take a break, please, I don’t want to have to do this anymore, I want to let go, just for a little bit, please, but he knew he couldn’t, because he had to get this done before he drowned again or he’d have to start the whole damn thing over. 

Relief like he’d never known washed over him as he finally managed to worm the manacle out of his shredded ankle and he felt himself start to rise. The lightheadedness was getting worse, and he wasn’t sure if he’d make it in time, so he wormed his finger into the pouch around his neck and let the death stone’s magic take him before the lack of air could. He was still rising when he came back to, and he propelled himself towards the surface with renewed strength, despite the pain of his ears popping and the odd ache in his joints. 

Finally, blessedly, he made it to the surface, and air had never tasted so fucking good. Not that it wasn’t salty, but it wasn’t as salty as saltwater, and he sucked as much of it as he could into his waterlogged lungs. He looked up at the cliff towering over him, now painted with the orange of sunset instead of the gold of sunrise. He...he had been down there all day just...downing. And getting eaten. Kinda fucked. Seeing a nearby rock, he swam over to it and scampered on top, collapsing on its damp surface as he coughed up far too much fucking seawater. Fuck, his head was spinning and his joints hurt, like they probably would have if he could grow old. Well, nothing that one last death can’t fix, now that he was finally on land again.

Castys opened his eyes and sat up, feeling perfectly fine besides the awful, salty taste in his mouth. He looked over at the cliff smugly. Those bastards had tried to get rid of him for good, and they’d failed miserably. He folded down his middle fingers and placed his thumbs over them, a rude gesture in this part of the world. Seeing the remnant of his arm dangling from the manacle still attached to his left wrist, he had a devilishly gruesome idea. 

The next morning, the whole town was awoken by the screams of a young couple who had gone out for a stroll.

Right there, in the middle of the town square, was part of a crudely severed arm, its fingers frozen in an obscene gesture, its skin slimy and already starting to slip off. A manacle was clamped around its wrist, attached by a short chain to the other one, which had been broken open. 

The execution had failed, and that heinous pirate had escaped.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words

[astraljedi]

Oblivion | Part I (The Mandalorian)

Summary: The Mandalorian was summoned to Nevarro by Greef Karga for a specific quarry after one of his favorite hunters is presumed dead.

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader (she/her)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mention of death, lost of memory, violence, blood, abuse, curse words, drugs and some traumatic shit. ALSO SOFT DIN 

Word count: 3K+

A/N: I’m new to the Star Wars fandom and to be honest I’m a little scared posting this. Please don’t scream at me if I made any mistakes, I’m still catching up with everything. Also, this is going to be a two part story and It has taken me about three days to fully finish the first part, so I hope you guys enjoy and happy new year’s eve! 

The warm volcanic air of Nevarro greeted The Mandalorian as he exited the Razor Crest and headed towards de cantina to meet with Greef Karga. As per usual, everyone's eyes landed on the shiny beskar helmet while The Mandalorian quietly walked by himself with his Amban sniper rifle on his back. 

Walking into the busy cantina, Mando moved towards Karga, sitting on the room's far end. "Mando!" Karga greeted him, ushering him to sit down on the opposite seat before Karga. 

"What's the job?" Mando asked, cutting straight to the point and skipping the "friendly" welcome. Karga sighed, his hands landing on the beverage on the table. 

"Right to the point, okay." Karga began. The Mandalorian watched through his visor at the man before him, who leaned in closer, not wanting anyone to eavesdrop on the private conversation. 

"No offense, but you're one of my faithful hunters who knows how to get the job done, no questions asked. But I also have my favorite hunter, similar to you, without the beskar armor." Karga announced, his eyes wandering around the others surrounding them inside the cantina. He didn't want to drive more attention to the table, more than its already been drawn by the beskar armor. "She's strong, straightforward forward, and never fails me. Reasons why I gave her the quarry only her or you could've handled, especially when the rich would pay any amount to end any theft from their fortune. You were away with other pucks, and she was free, so I gave it to her."

"Let me guess, she failed you, and now you need me to do the job?" Mando sighed under his helmet, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"We presume she's dead; some members of the Guild found her ship raided and full of blood. It's a loss we all felt deeply, which you don't see a lot in here. She cared for everyone, and it rubbed off on some of us. Her death is on that quarry's life, and I count on you to avenge her death." Karga was resting his back on his seat, waiting for a response from the hunter in front of him. 

"Do I need to bring them in alive?" 

"No, only bring the body for confirmation." Karga disclosed, sliding the puck over to Mando with the tracking fob. "It's double the amount of what I originally offered. It's going to be a heavy payday for you, Mando."

"She was that good, huh?" The Mandalorian stood up from his seat, hanging the sniper rifle again behind his back. He was a bit curious about the girl and how comparable she was to him. 

"You might have seen her before. She used to work here from time to time in the cantina. And now that I think of it, one time you came here to meet with me, and she was serving me the drinks that day." Karga remembered, and so did The Mandalorian. "The bounty's last known location was Maldo Kreis. Good luck, Mando."

On the way back to his ship, Mando was deep in his thoughts. He remembered that day very clearly. 

He remembered the girl. How could he forget? 

"I don't want to be rude, but I would offer you a drink, but I know you can't take that shiny bucket off." Y/N chuckled, grabbing Karga's empty cup to replace it with a new one full of spotchka. She had watched him arrive earlier into the cantina; her older brother used to talk about The Mandalorians when they were children. She had never seen one in person before. She watched him glide through the people in the cantina towards Karga, how only a few dared to look at the man in the beskar, and others had their eyes on the floor. Too scared to even look at the feared hunter. 

Karga chuckled at her comment before taking a sip of his new drink. Mando tilted his helmet at her in curiosity. She wasn't intimidated by him and made a light joke about his armor. 

When The Mandalorian didn't answer, she sighed and looked away from the tinted T shaped visor. Y/N walked away with Karga's previous empty cup and headed towards another table to serve them with her funny jokes instead, where others will appreciate them. 

Thankful for the helmet, he heard Karga tell him about the previous bounty Mando had captured, how he never disappoints in getting the job done. "You might give my favorite hunter a run for her credits." Karga joked, emptying his second drink of the day. But The Mandalorian's eyes followed the girl. She was behind the bar now, laughing with her other customers as she leaned herself on the counter. Her mid-length dark hair bounced around every time her shoulders moved from her laughing and her tiny figure moving around the back of the spacious bar, gliding through without a hassle. "Y/N! Get your pretty face over here with another refill, sweet face." Mando's eyes shifted to the very drunk customer far away from the bar where Y/N stood.

She laughed at the drunken state he was, filling up his cup with some water instead, cutting him off from his usual drink. "That's enough for the evening, Gyan. You have a family to get to, remember?" Her sweet voice passed right him, the sweet scent from her hair hitting him with a whiff. 

Y/N, now the girl who he watched over had a name.

Many people were intimidated by the beskar armor, but she didn't even flinch from making a joke about it. Even after he didn't answer her, she didn't shake in fear, and she walked away disappointed. Was she expecting something else? The Mandalorians came across as cold and people of not many words. She knew that, but deep down, she didn't believe it entirely from all the stories others would tell about them and their creed. 

Mando landed on the ice planet two days ago.

Tracking down the bounty was surprisingly too easy, Mando thought. The tracking fob immediately started going crazy on the first day while he hunted around the planet. Once he found him, he watched his every move. 

Not only did he want to assure a good plan, but he also wanted to figure out how the girl got herself killed for a simple quarry that didn't even bother hiding. 

Maz was wanted for theft, and he owned a lot of people's credits. The usual. Maz had the same routine strangely; he visited the markets early, creating chaos with innocent villagers, and then spent the rest of the day in a cantina with possibly other bounty's.

One of the things Mando noticed first was that Maz wasn't ever alone. He always had to be surrounded by people to praise him and make sure he felt he had the power. Maz still had six guards with him. Four of them guarded the outside. While two were by the back of the cantina, the others guarded the front door. And that left the Maz and two other bodies with him inside. 

Mando could quickly grab the guards in the back successfully and then attack the ones in the front before dragging them with the rest of the bodies behind the cantina. He liked those odds. 

Part of his evening entourage, he brought one woman with a metal neck collar hooked on to a chain for him to drag her around like some pet. The woman had barely any clothing on for the shivering weather, and it was torture and cruel. 

They had her wearing a tiny leather top that did nothing to hide the purple bruises on her neck and shoulders. Mando also noticed marks that could only be caused by a whip on her exposed back. She also wore a torn skirt that didn't cover much of her barely functioning legs. But Mando never saw her face. They always dragged her around with a bag over her head. 

The Mandalorian prepared for his attack on the third day. As planned, he managed to seize the men on the back of the cantina without any problems. And then he followed with the other two guards by the front door. Maybe the guards were for appearances because they went down quickly and quietly, or The Mandalorian was that good. Mando swiftly dragged both bodies towards the back and huddled all four of them in a pile against the bar's walls.

The cantina's door unlatched and revealed The Mandalorian standing under the frame while the snow flew into the cantina. Immediately, all eyes were on Mando as his eyes scanned the place, looking for Maz. The air in the cantina stiffened at The Mandalorian's presence. Every single pair of eyes followed him while he proceeded to take a seat by the bar, a safe distance to the corner of the room where he spotted Maz with the girl sitting down on his lap miserably. 

"Two chowders to go," Mando ordered, trying to blend in as he wasn't there for a quarry. He passed some credits to the bartender while his eyes caught a glimpse of the girl's face when she moved uncomfortably on Maz's lap. 

"Y/N." Mando thought to himself, how could he forget her? Her hair was longer, and she looked slimmer, probably caused by the lack of meals Maz didn't give to her. Mando's blood boiled as he watched the dirty man's hands caressing Y/N's bruised and sensitive skin while he chatted away with another person sat on the table as well. 

Y/N dozed off, her head feeling heavy, and her exhausted body was about to give out on her. She couldn't even remember how she got there and what they gave her to tame her down. Everything was a blur. 

If she could, she would've blown up the whole bar into ashes. Make every living being that touched, drugged, and tossed her around to burn into oblivion. 

Mando had a plan to grab Maz, but it flew out the window once he noticed who the girl was. The seat that Maz's "friend" occupied was now free, and while "waiting" for his chowder, he slipped into the empty chair. 

He regretted his change of plan the moment his eyes landed on the poor girl. The open wounds that would heal into scars horrified him. It angered him the most. Mando was going to make Maz pay for every mark he left on her body. "A Mandalorian? Thought those only existed in stories." Maz tried to hide his widened eyes from the hunter. Mando smirked under his helmet, sensing the fear in Maz's eyes. 

Mando's hand rested on top of his blaster that rested on his side. Tilting his helmet, he studied and watched Maz, and he knew the guy would never be the criminal to carry a blaster. He needs a pack of guards because he didn't even know how to handle a blaster by himself. He was all about appearances and less about his fighting skills. "And now they are going to exist in your worst nightmares." 

The first shot from Mando's blaster went off and hit the closest guard to Maz in his chest. The first guard's body fell to the floor with a loud thud while others either stared at the fight that was about to break down, and some decided to leave the bar. Before it, all got a little too messy for their liking. 

Maz shot up from his seat, not caring that Y/N had fallen to the floor. He gripped on the metal chain tied to her neck collar and dragged her up to her feet as he made a run for the door. Mando had purposely let Maz get a head start; he knew he couldn't get too far with Y/N's weakened state. 

The final guard, who was the furthest, made a run towards the hunter, but Mando was quick to his feet and grabbed one of the knives on the table and flew it across the bar for it to land on the guard's shoulder. Stomping his way towards the guard, he hovered over his unbearable body and sent his final shot from his blaster to his chest. 

The bartender rose from behind the bar, where he had found shelter from the fight. He watched as the hunter exited the cantina to catch up to Maz, who hadn't gotten very far as Mando had anticipated. 

One thing The Mandalorian didn't expect was seeing Maz holding a blaster to Y/N's temple. "God, she can't even lean on him for support from the pain she's in." Mando thought to himself, his grip tightening on the snipper he pulled out from his back. He aimed it at Maz, taking slow steps towards his quarry. 

"Give up, Maz. We both know you don't stand a chance." Y/N heard Mando's filtered voice from afar. She was thrown around by Maz for a long time, that the little hope she had of being rescued from the torture had faded every time the sun left the horizon and left her in complete darkness. 

Maz had the safety on his blaster. What an idiot. 

Mando was about to shot at Maz's shoulder when suddenly, from the corner of his eyes, he watched Y/N slip out a blade from the waistband of her skirt. She must have gotten it after she fell from the first guard laid on the floor after Mando shot him. Maz didn't even know what was coming for him. 

Y/N used the little energy she had and pushed the knife into Maz's abdomen, causing him to force her out of his grip and fall on to his knees from the sudden pain. He shrieked in pain while holding the knife still pressed into his body in shock. "He did tell you that you didn't have a chance." Y/N coughed only a few feet away from him, looking straight at Maz as the blood-stained the pale snow underneath him. 

"Should've given you a painful death the night we took you." Maz groaned,  pulling the knife out of his stomach. "You were worth-" Maz's words caught short, Mando shutting him up with a shot to his chest. Maz's eyes rolled back, and he fell onto his back on the snowy ground. 

Tears spilled out of Y/N's eyes. She never thought she was going to make it out alive at all. "Hey, we need to get you out of this weather." Mando knelt to her level on the floor, wrapping his cape around her shoulders to bring in a little bit of warmth to her body. She nodded in response, but before she could force herself to stand up, he already had her in his arms pressed into his chest. 

Instead of going to his ship, he preferred getting those chowders he had ordered earlier for her to eat before the flight back to Nevarro. "You might want to eat first." His voice was soft, caring for the petite hunter before him. 

Food. Y/N hadn't had a warm meal in such a long time that she devoured the first bowl of chowder too quickly for her liking. Mando sat silently across her, watching her finish up the first bowl in minutes. "Want the other one?" Mando asked, sliding the second bowl towards her. 

"Please, I'm starving." It was good that she was eating. The drug that made her doze off was wearing off quicker thanks to the food. The other great news was that Mando had managed to break off the metal collar from her neck. She was free to walk and eat without the cold metal pushing up against her neck. "Thanks again for everything." She went from living a nightmare to finding some peace. Maybe it won't last that much longer, but she enjoyed it a little bit. She enjoyed the hot meal. 

After she finished the second bowl, Mando brought the empty dishes to the bar counter a few feet away from the table where he previously sat with her. He tried passing the bartender some extra credits for the mess he caused earlier, but the bartender refused to take the credits. He was merely glad that Maz was gone from his cantina.

 Mando nodded as a thank you towards the bartender when he gave them extra food for the flight. "She suffered a lot in the hands of those criminals. I'm glad she's safe now." The bartender explained to the hunter as they both watched her from afar snuggled up into Mando's cape. 

After Y/N and The Mandalorian said their final goodbyes to the cantina's owner, he pressed her close for her to lean on him as they walked to her rhythm towards his ship with Mando dragging Maz's body behind him with the same chain Maz had tied up to Y/N neck collar. Y/N was grateful for the food, but she was even more when Mando's ship greeted her with its warmth. "I have never been this excited to see a Razor Crest before." She chuckled, her cheeks gaining a slight red tint. 

Mando moved around the ship, trying to gather up a couple of blankets he had stored away. "I don't have a change of clothing, but I did grab these for you." 

Y/N mumbled a thank you to Mando and pulled off his cape from her shoulders to replace them with a slightly thicker material to keep her even warmer. "I suggest you rest for a while if you can." He suggested, sitting on the pilot seat and getting the ship ready for departure. Y/N made herself more than comfortable on the chair behind him by the right side of the cockpit. 

Y/N relaxed her shoulders as she let the soft material of the chair rest snug to her body. "Thanks again for rescuing me, metalhead." She mumbled, sleep consuming her quickly. 

Mando snorted under his helmet. Even after going through what she did, she managed to make fun of him. He watched her over his shoulder, her chest rising up and down while she faded into her deep sleep. He pulled himself away from staring and sent the Razor Crest into hyperspace after placing the coordinates to Nevarro. 

"You don't need me to rescue you. You saved yourself out there." Mando whispered, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

[natasha-reads]

Valentine's Arrow ► 7. Meaning of Fear

Pairings ‣ Sebastian Morgenstern x OFC

Warnings ‣ injury, some fluff, hurt/comfort, some angst

Word count ‣ 1.4k

Previous chapter « 6. Into the Dark

Next chapter » 8. Angel From My Nightmare

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Rebecca

RUN, RUN, RUN.

That was the only thought flitting through Rebecca’s mind. No matter how many demons she killed, the tiny, itchy bit of terror never went away – it was always there, in the thud of her heart, the slapping of her feet on the stone floor.

The rasping of the demons was getting louder and louder; Rebecca didn’t dare to look behind her, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before they caught up. In a last, desperate bid to defend herself, she skidded to a stop near the archway she had seen earlier and tugged at one of the ornamental axes, trying to pull it free from its hold. But the ax held fast; years of rust made it impossible to free.

The demons were almost upon her. They were Dahaks, Rebecca saw. Their tentacles were waving around in excitement, and they were hissing loudly. She had never fought them before, but she knew that if she got caught, she would be dead. Dahaks were particularly tough to kill, and their tentacles were poisonous. Rebecca let out a scream of frustration and took off again. If only she could reach the courtyard, she would be safe; the Dahaks couldn’t follow her out into the sunlight.

Relief flooded her when she saw the staircase looming up in front of her. She had barely set foot on it when one of them grabbed hold of her foot and yanked her backward viciously. Rebecca immediately lost her footing and stuck her hands out to brace the fall. On instinct, she kicked out as hard as she could. The grip on her foot loosened, but several other tentacles wrapped around her shins and ankles, dragging her back. A sharp pain shot up her thigh, and her vision swam.

She was flat on the ground now, kicking for all she was worth. Through a haze of pain, she spotted at least half a dozen more demons, all hissing and spitting and rasping. For the first time, Rebecca couldn’t think of a single thing to do. Terror was seeping through every vein in her body, striking her numb. One of the demons leaned over her, leering (if demons could leer), and seized her wrist. Excruciating pain spread from the point of contact, and Rebecca struggled again, but her muscles felt like they had been filled with lead. Black spots appeared in her vision. Her windpipe was suddenly too small. She was gasping for breath, heaving desperately, but each new breath was harder than the last.

And out of nowhere a shimmering blade drove down, burying itself in the demon’s skull. It vanished, and there was Sebastian, a blazing seraph blade in his hand, ichor splattered across his white shirtfront. Behind him the room was empty save for the body of one of the demons, still twitching, but with black fluid pouring from its severed leg stumps.

Rebecca tried to sit up, but she could barely move. As though from several miles away, she heard him say, “... deadly poison, Rebecca. What were you thinking?”

And then everything faded away.

Nausea and pain racked her body. She could make out splotches of color, but nothing definite. Her wrist was still throbbing. She also became aware of a gentle swinging sensation – someone was carrying her.

Then everything went silent. For a moment she thought that was the end of it: she had died, died battling demons, the way most Shadowhunters did. Then she felt another pleasant burning sensation on the inside of her arm, and a surge of what felt like ice spilling through her veins.

It was as though someone had poured ice-cold water on her face. With a great gasp, Rebecca shot upright, clutching her chest and wheezing heavily. Her lungs seemed to take a while to begin functioning properly again, and by the time she had started breathing normally, her vision had returned completely.

She was lying on a park bench. The sky was a brilliant blue, and she could hear the distinct sounds of bees buzzing. The park itself was deserted, but it looked lovely, with tastefully arranged beds of flowers, and what even looked like a fountain in the distance. And sitting next to her was Sebastian.

Sebastian

Sebastian regarded Rebecca thoughtfully, a small smile on his face. After taking in her surroundings, she turned back to him, and said slowly, “So I suppose you saved my life.” She was careful not to look at him as she spoke. “Where are we?”

“Luxembourg Gardens,” he replied. “It’s a very nice park. I had to take you somewhere you could lie down, and the middle of the street didn’t seem like a good idea.”

At that, she finally looked up and met his eyes. Her grey eyes, normally as piercing and sharp as a steel blade, were clouded. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome.” Sebastian rested an arm on the bench behind her and leaned back. “I will admit, though, I didn’t think you’d follow me down there. You’re braver than I thought.”

“That was more like stupidity,” Rebecca said, looking down at her hands, which she had tightly clasped in her lap. “I nearly got myself killed.” She turned, shifting her body so that she was facing him. The cloudiness had disappeared from her eyes, and now they looked razor-sharp. “Speaking of, why are you dealing with demons?”

“I wasn’t dealing with them,” Sebastian said smoothly.

“I listened to them talking about you,” Rebecca said sharply. “I know what you’re doing-”

“No, you don’t,” Sebastian interrupted. “First, those weren’t the demons I was dealing with. Those were their guards. That’s why they were in a separate room and why I wasn’t there. Dahak demons aren’t that smart, though they are mean and tough and defensive. So, it’s not like they were really informed about what was going on. They were just repeating gossip they’d heard from their masters. Greater Demons. That was who I was meeting with.”

Rebecca raised her eyebrows. “Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel better. I’m giving you what you’ve always wanted – the truth.”

“I heard the Dahaks say that you were going to give this world to the demons,” she said quietly. “Is that true?”

“Now, does that sound like something I’d do?”

Rebecca’s eyes blazed unexpectedly. “You seriously can’t expect me to give you an honest answer to that.”

Sebastian sat up straight, moving a little closer to her; she didn’t flinch, just stared at him intently with her grey eyes.

“I thought you said you were going to give me a chance,” he said. “I’m not who I was when you met me in Alicante.” His gaze was clear. “And before that, I only ever knew Valentine growing up. He taught me everything I know.” He leaned forward a little more so that their faces were now only inches apart. “It’s not easy to doubt the things you’ve grown up believing.”

Rebecca turned away. “The least you could’ve done was come up with a better excuse. And Valentine was wrong. He was so obsessed with what the Clave got wrong that he could see nothing past proving to them that he was right.”

“Look,” Sebastian said, feeling mildly exasperated. “Valentine had the right idea. I mean, look at us – barely any Shadowhunters left, and demons are getting stronger every day. Eventually, we’ll be overrun.”

“And you expect me to believe you care if that happens.”

“Sometimes extreme situations call for extreme measures. To destroy the enemy, it can be necessary to understand him, even to treat with him. If I can make those Greater Demons trust me, then I can lure them here, where they can be destroyed, and their followers as well. That ought to turn back the tide. Demons will know that this world is not as easy pickings as they imagined it.”

“And you and Jace are going to do all that by yourself?” Rebecca snorted. “Good luck.”

Sebastian decided to ignore her jibe. Instead, he stood up and held his hand out to her. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

“No way. Take me back to the apartment right now.”

Sebastian groaned. “Could you be any more frigid if you tried? I don’t think so.”

“I’m not frigid!” she said indignantly.

“Then come with me.”

Rebecca hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Fine. But if you do anything-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know - you’ll make mincemeat out of me.”

She rolled her eyes.

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

Sorgan

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Warnings: None. Some fluff

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: So we’ve been spelling his name wrong (RIP). The ending is kinda rushed which I apologize for but finally part three!!! The series is officially called “The Mandalorian’s Love” and you can find it on ao3 as well.

The Mandalorian’s Love Series

Y/N Y/L/N wasn’t trained at an early age like Din Djarin was. She found it a miracle when he agreed to have her on his ship and to train her. She remembered that day like it was yesterday; the same sand she stood in every day, same people, same suns. She didn’t always hate it, but she also didn’t like to use such a strong word. It just became maddening, her entire being itching to feel so much more. She wanted to be a part of the stories she always heard about as she grew, to be a part of the action as well. Hearing the rush of it alone in the words made her dreams grow until she wanted to scream. She soon took up on some mechanics, hoping that the skills would prove useful in the future. Her mother and father left their precious farm to her and her siblings, who were more than content with the never-changing routines. Y/N would never intentionally disrespect her parents or her siblings, but they wanted her to be happy right? She had to believe that what she wanted was right, that it wasn’t a sin and she wouldn’t become an outcast because of it. Besides, she would never consider leaving her home and family if she didn’t know they could handle it. Most days it was hard to shake off the insecurities and fears until The Mandalorian strolled through her village.

Y/N heard it from her brother first. The whispers of a Mandalorian passing through. As she said before, not much happened where she lived; everyone was going crazy with the new outsider, who had no intentions of sticking around for long. At first she had no plans on checking out this Mandalorian at all; she doubted one would accept any of her help or offers. But it was as though fate had brought her to him. She had to stop by the shop she would work at occasionally, wanting to see if there was any new work. She heard the modulated voice first before she saw him.

“I’m looking for some parts for my ship, I have the credits,” he said.

“Well, tell me what the problem is Mandalorian and I’ll be happy to help,” said the owner of the shop.

Her ears perked up when she heard the man tell him, knowing exactly what the problem was and what he needed. But she still wasn’t sure on if she should intervene; she didn’t want to throw herself at every passing stranger just for a little adventure.

“Ah just the luck! I got the right person for the job right here.”

It took her a few moments before she realized she was spotted.

“Oh,” Y/N said dumbly, mentally slapping herself on the forehead. “Right y-yeah, I can help you with that,” she stuttered.

The Mandalorian didn’t think much of her at first. She was just another face, another person he thought he’d never run into again. He almost refused her help before sighing and nodding his head once towards her direction, turning his back and walking out. Y/N gawked at him, watching his cape move with the mind as he moved. The owner gave her an amused smile.

“I think you’re supposed to follow him,” he teased.

Y/N shook her head, coming down from her daze. “Right! Right.”

The kind man handed her her tool bag as she trailed after, shaking his head with a sigh.

The Mandalorian was waiting for her just outside, turning his back and walking again once he saw her. She quickly caught up with him, avoiding the peering eyes of the people she grew up with. She could tell some of them were whispering about them but tried her damnest to ignore it; she didn’t need to hear them because she was sure they were thinking the same thing she had before.

His ship wasn’t that far away from the town, and it was actually pretty decent. Y/N found herself admiring the condition of it, giving the profession its owner had. The Mandalorian explained showed her the problem, not giving anymore words than needed before letting her get to work. Normally she would try to strike up a conversation as she worked, remembering her parent’s teachings, but she suspected that this man wasn’t much of a talker. She wouldn’t push it, didn’t mind the silence herself.

“Can you stay here with the ship while I run an errand, if you will,” The Mandalorian said suddenly, making Y/N jump a little.

“Sure,” she smiled.

“I can pay you a little bit extra for this,” he told her. “I just ask two things: no droids and do not pry around my ship.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

He tilted his head in acknowledgment before disappearing. Y/N kept to her word, finishing up her repairs and staying outside the ship. Suddenly she heard the door opening, backing away as she expected to see a large shadow. She really wished she had a better weapon on her other than her tools. But there were no shadows, no monsters or scary men. It was a small, green child. Its eyes were round, face wearing a curious look as it stared into her eyes. She didn’t know what to do, afraid to overstep. But it seemed harmless enough and it was a child!

“Hi,” she cooed, crouching down a little to get a better look at it, or him she assumed.

The baby cooed back, trotting down the ramp and standing in front of her. Y/N crouched down to pick him up, carefully holding him in her arms.

“He’ll be back soon,” she told him as he stared up at her, ears going up and down as if he understood what she had just said.

Y/N knew what to do with babies, had experience with her younger siblings. So it couldn’t be so different this time, right? He was calm, appearing to be studying her. Then he reached a little hand out, and she held her pointer finger to it, smiling softly when the Child latched on.

“I told you not to go in my ship,” his voice interrupted.

Both Y/N and the Child jumped, startled by the tall Mandalorian standing behind them when she quickly spun around, holding on to the Child tightly. She didn’t even hear him coming, something that terrified her.

“I didn’t,” she said as calmly as possible. “He opened the ramp and came to me. I wouldn’t break my promise nor hurt the baby.”

The Mandalorian stared at her, at least his helmet did; she wasn’t sure if his eyes were actually meeting hers or not. She found his silence almost unbearable due to the situation, hoping that he was reasonable of a man as he appeared to be. The Child looked back and forth between them, ears twitching as he did so. The man finally took a step closer, contemplating what he was just about to ask her.

“Listen,” he started. “I could use a crew member on the ship, help with work and taking care of the Child.”

It took Y/N a moment to fully process what he was asking her. “Y-you’re asking me to come with you? Like on the ship?”

He wanted to chuckle at her, but carefully withheld. Instead he just tilted his head and shifted his weight onto one foot.

“Well, yes. On the ship.”

Hearing the Mandalorian repeat what she had just said made her mentally cringe (it was almost as if she couldn’t speak around him!), but that quickly evaporated. He asked her to join him! To finally leave, take chances, live out her dreams! She’d be a fool --some would say a smart one-- to refuse. She frowned when she thought of her siblings; one older than her and the other two a few years younger. She would miss them dearly and knew they would too.

“My family,” Y/N finally said, her voice surprisingly steady. “May I say goodbye to them and gather some of my belongings?”

He nodded back, the only confirmation of his answer. And so she walked back to her home alone, the man and baby staying behind on the Razor Crest. The goodbyes were heartfelt, but full of smiles of encouragements. They’d be fine without her, as long as she would keep in touch as much as possible, which she promised with the upmost sincerity. Walking back to the ship half expecting to see the barren land touched with the memory of The Mandalorian, she was pleasantly happy to see that he was still there. Taking one last look at what has always been her home, she took a deep breath and walked towards her freedom.

Y/N smiled fondly at the memory as she watched Mando (she could only call him by his real name, DIn, when they knew they were alone) check out the outside of the Razor Crest. They had landed on Sorgan, a planet they thought was not occupied. Y/N immediately took a liking to Cara Dune when she saw just how easily she caught Mando off guard and fought him (kicked his ass really). Only because she wasn’t such a bad person upon actually talking to her.

“What’re your smiling about?” He suddenly said. She hadn’t realized he was staring at her.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just thinking about the first time we met.”

Din was slowly getting better at communicating with her. He did before, but only when it was about a job or the Child, anything else being completely off limits, unsaid words left in the shadows. Y/N was proud of the man he was when the met and the man he was now; slowly changing and becoming more comfortable with himself and the idea of allowing anyone this far into his life, under his skin. It made her love for him consume her entirely.

He stepped closer to her when she leaned at against the ship, never taking her eyes off him. She could almost feel the heat coming off him beneath the Beskar armor and it made her crave for him.

“I think about that day too,” he said softly, making her heart skip a beat. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to step away for a few minutes…

“Hello?” A timid voice called out.

The Mandalorian quickly turned, instinctively standing protectively in front of Y/N. She looked over his shoulder, seeing two men (she could tell they were fishermen by their attire) watching them with hopeful eyes.

“You’re a Mandalorian,” one of them exclaimed. “We need your help! We’ll pay you.”

Y/N looked at the back of Din’s helmet, awaiting his reply.

“Not interested,” he said, going back to working on the Razor Crest.

Y/N crossed her arms, now in the open with the two fishermen. “What’s the job?”

She could see him tense out of the corner of her eye. She knew he just wanted to settle down to protect the Child and to avoid all trouble of any kind. But she could see they were clearly desperate for help, and they also reminded her a little of home. She couldn’t just push them away.

“Klatoonian raiders,” the one who mostly took the lead explained. “We have nothing. Please, we’ll pay with everything we have.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she looked to Din, hoping he could see the plea in her eyes. He sighed, turning towards the two men.

“Fine. In exchange for lodging.”

The men nodded eagerly. “Of course! Thank you both so much.”

Y/N smiled and nodded politely at them.

“I’m going to gather a friend first. Then we’ll get to work,” The Mandalorian told them. He turned to her.

“We could use Cara Dune’s help. I’m going to get her; you sit here with the Child. I won’t be back long.”

Y/N nodded, holding his hand and rubbing her thumb over his leather gloves. He gave a slight squeeze before quickly walking away, still not used to the intimate contact.

Y/N was happy to see Cara again, talking with her and sharing laughs during their trip to the village. Once they arrived they were housed in by a kind, beautiful woman whom she learned was named Omera. She was also happy that there were children as well, seeing the Child playing with them giving her hope; hope that he will have a good, long, and happy life, that one day her and Din could have one as well without the constant threat of danger. She could see that Din was thinking the same thing, but that something else was also bothering him.

“What’s wrong?” She eventually asked him. He was preparing to leave with Cara to look for tracks and the raiders, Y/N’s idea to staying behind to look after the village and the baby.

“Why do you ask?” He said.

She shrugged, stepping closer to him. “I can tell something’s eating at you. Is it about the kid?”

It took a moment for him to nod his head, lost in thought over what he was going to say. The Mandalorian had seen her smile at the children, at the villagers. He could see her reminiscing of her home and doubt began to cloud his mind. What if she wasn’t happy? What if she regretted leaving with him? What if she was planning on leaving him? Despite their growing and changing relationship and the love that radiated from her his insecurities got the better of him. On nights where they lead to nightmares of her dying because of him or her finally leaving, he’d have to find her in their quarters and hold her. His heart would skip a beat and flutter when she would subconsciously burrow into his warmth. He dreaded having this conversation with her because of the fear of rejection; he wasn’t ready to face any kind of it and he definitely wasn’t ready to lose her.

“The Child,” he finally sighed. “We should leave him here. He’d be safe, loved even. It’d be good for him.”

Y/N was taken back. “Leave him here?” She breathed. “I mean, after everything we’ve been through with him… do you really think that’s a good idea?”

Din let out a frustrated sigh. “There are a lot of people out there looking for him now. And the kind of life I have, the kind of life we have, it’s too dangerous for him. It’s no life for a child.”

Y/N understood his point, she really did. She’d have to say that the very same thoughts plagued her mind as well, but to act on them? But if it really was best for the Child, the baby she had grown attached to, then she could not let her own selfish needs bypass his safety.

“Okay,” she agreed. “It’s our job to keep him alive and safe. So we should try this one out, and if we hear anything and it doesn’t work out, we immediately come back for him. Okay?”

The Mandalorian nodded. “Agreed.”

But Y/N could tell there was something else, and she didn’t want him going into anything dangerous with an occupied mind.

“And what’s the other thing?”

Din sometimes hated how well she could see him. “Are… are you happy? With the arrangements we have?”

He thought he probably should’ve used a better word for what they had, because it was so much more. He just hoped that she could see that too.

“Of course I am,” Y/N said with some much confirmation in her words. “I knew what I was getting into when I joined you, and I’m perfectly happy with us.”

The Mandalorian decided to leave it at the for now. He could always tell when she was lying -something that Y/N hated most times as well- and could detect none in her. They could have this conversation at a better time.

“Hey lovebirds,” Cara teased from the doorway. Din tilted his head towards her direction.

“I’ll be out,” was all he said. Cara nodded her head and left, Y/N tapping her foot anxiously. He turned back to her, stepping closer to her and resting the forehead of his helmet against hers.

“I’m sorry.”

She gave a small smile. “You do not need to be sorry,” she whispered. “Just come back to me in one piece.”

She wanted to say I love you. She wanted him to know that she was one-hundred percent positive there was nothing he could do to make her hate him or leave. But Y/N knew he wasn’t ready to hear those words yet, wasn’t ready to say them himself. They did through their actions though, and that was enough. It would always be enough.

“Always.”

She watched his cape disappear out the door. She took a deep breath and looked out the window, seeing Din and Cara leave and the Child still playing with the other children. Seeing the Child made her want to tear up, not knowing how she was going to say goodbye to him. She hoped that their decision was a good one.

When they came back informing the farmers that the raiders had an AT-ST, they had refused to leave. She couldn’t blame them; it was their home after all. They decided to train them, Omera being one of the most impressive with her skills. When night fell, they set off with their plans, Y/N protecting the children, it was utter chaos. Thankfully, no serious injuries and a job successful.

“We did a good thing here,” Y/N said to Din as they stood in the sunlight. They were preparing to leave, and Din had just spoken to Omera about taking the Child under her care; it was a decision he had left to Y/N.

“We did.” He agreed.

She took both his hands in hers carefully, giving him the chance to pull away if he was uncomfortable, but he held on instead, tightly squeezing her hands in his with a gentle rub of his thumbs. Suddenly a gun shot pierced the peaceful air, making the Mandalorian turn with his blaster already out, pushing Y/N behind him as she got hers; she was always amazed at how fast and alert he could be.

“Check on the others,” he commanded before making a beeline for the tree lines.

Y/N ran to the villagers, looking around for any injuries. She sighed in relief when she made contact with the baby and saw no one was hurt or worse. Gently picking him up, she waited for Din to return, assuring the others that everything was going to be okay; the kids crowded around her with some of their parents, frightened. She sighed in relief when she saw Cara and Din walking back.

“It was another Guild member,” he told her. “We have to leave with the Child.”

Y/N tearfully said goodbye to the children of the small village, joining Din and the Child on the raft. She waved back to them as they left, thoughts of maybe returning one day already crossing her mind.

“We’ll be okay,” she told the Child. “Everything will be okay.”

The Child cooed back in answer, reaching out for her finger, which she instantly placed in his tiny hand. The Mandalorian watched this interaction, a warm glow flowing through him.

“We will,” his modulated voice said. “We will.”

[theundercovermarvelfan]

Whumptober 2020 - Day Four

Whumtober Challenge  @whumptober2020

Running Out of Time Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building

The warehouse had been cleared and all the hostiles were either captured or eliminated. Tony’s scanners had confirmed that there was no life left within the enemy compound. 

The Avengers had won for all intents and purposes. All that was left was tying up a few loose ends. They were still trying to track down the blueprints that had been stolen from Stark Industries months ago, which in the wrong hands could be disastrous. They had split up to do one last sweep to see if they could find anything. 

Simple, right? 

“Anybody find anything?” Steve asked over the comms. 

Various versions of “no” or “nothing” floated over the line. Clint was clicking on his flashlight and moving into a dark office as he articulated his own confirmation that he hadn’t come across anything interesting. He swung the light around as he took stock of what was in the room. 

“I think if there was anything to find, we would have found it by now,” Natasha pointed out. 

“I think you’re right,” Steve agreed. “Let’s finish up the area you’re currently in, and then I think we can head home.”

“That sounds good,” Clint agreed as he shifted through the papers on the desk in the room. 

It had been a long day and Clint hadn’t been too enthusiastic when after a hard fought battle, Steve insisted that they do this extra sweep when there was no evidence that the blueprints were ever here. Grudgingly, Clint did realize it was the right call, but after an hour of fruitless searching that thought wasn’t terribly comforting to his aching feet and sore muscles at the moment.  

Clint was turning and heading back out of the room, when suddenly he stumbled. For a split second he thought that maybe he had been more tired than he thought and his legs were giving out. But then there was another sudden jolt as the floor shifted under his feet.

“Did anyone else feel that?” Clint asked uneasily into this comm. 

“Tony, can your sensors pick up any kind of booby traps in the compound?” Steve asked quickly. 

“Sensors are all still quiet,” Tony said unsurely just as Clint felt the ground shifting again, this time a little more insistently. “But hold on… I’m picking up some seismic act--”

Anything else Tony was going to say was lost as suddenly the floor jerked violently, sending Clint flying off his feet and smashing hard onto the floor.

“Earthquake!” Clint yelled on instinct, unsure if anyone could hear him over the sudden roar of the ground rearranging itself. 

A quick scan of the room told Clint that he was in the worst possible spot, near a large floor to ceiling cabinet with glass doors. He went scrambling across the room just as the cabinet tipped, only barely able to throw himself out of the way to avoid getting pinned. His instincts wanted him to get to the desk in order to shelter under it, but the tremors were so violent that it went sliding across the floor toward the shattered cabinet. Clint needed something, anything to hold onto in order to stabilize himself, but everything in the room was shifting violently. There was a loud crash as a tree smashed through a large nearby window, sending razor sharp shards raining down on him as Clint ducked and covered his head as best he could. Among the deafening crashing, Clint could have sworn he heard someone cry out in pain, his head automatically jerking in the direction of the noise…

And then suddenly the floor underneath him dipped sharply inward, sending Clint careening downward toward the middle of the building. Clint scrambled desperately trying to slow his descent, knowing that moving further inward was the worst possible scenario, but debris was raining down on him, pushing him deeper into the chaos. Then what started off as an uncontrollable slide, suddenly turned into a free fall and then…

Nothing.

Blackness. Silence. Stillness. Like the world had suddenly blinked out of existence. 

Clint had no idea how much time had passed before the pain began to bring him back around. It felt like he had been put through a meat grinder, and for a long moment he couldn’t pinpoint any part of himself that felt any worse than the rest. He heaved in thick air that burned down his throat and into his lungs, which spasmed painfully at the intrusion. As he blinked his eyes open, trying to get a sense of his surroundings, he pulled the collar of his shirt up and over his nose and mouth in an attempt to filter out at least the larger debris in the air as he continued to wheeze desperately for precious oxygen. 

By some stroke of luck, Clint realized that his heavy duty flashlight had followed his descent, and though it was cracked, by some miracle it was still shining brightly just a few feet away. He went to reach out for it… and screamed in pain as it felt as if a white hot poker had been jammed and then twisted viciously into his shoulder. 

He gasped and coughed painfully as he struggled through the pain, thankful when it dulled as he remained still. Very carefully, he shifted to get a look at his shoulder, fully expecting to see something horribly grotesque. He was confused when he didn’t immediately see a reason for the pain outside of the cuts that covered the rest of his body as well. Then he realized his shoulder was sitting lower than it should. It was dislocated. He let out a shaky breath, feeling relief wash over him. It was bad, but it was fixable.

Of course, that was assuming that he was able to make it out of here. 

He methodically took stock of himself before he attempted to move again. All the glass that was around him seemed to have done the bulk of the damage, all his exposed skin had been practically cut to ribbons. Thankfully it didn’t seem like the cuts were very deep… until he found the deep gash where something had sliced through his thick uniform just above his hip. Blood was already beginning to pool underneath him. 

He reached out his good hand and as he stretched out painfully, he was just able to reach his fingertips to the flashlight and roll it closer to him so that he could grab it. He took a shaky breath as he shined the light around in order to get an idea of his surroundings. The building had obviously collapsed in on itself during the earthquake, and Clint was beyond lucky to have landed in a small gap between slabs of what used to be either a floor or ceiling, it was hard to tell. 

“Can any…” he had to pause to cough and wheeze, “...’nyone hear me?”

He wasn’t surprised when there was nothing but silence from his comm. He couldn’t bank on being rescued. They had all still been in the building when the earthquake had hit and there was no guarantee that any of the others had made it out. He shined the flashlight around the space, trying to see if there were any gaps he might be able to climb through…

“S’anyone ‘ere?”

Clint’s eyes snapped to the sound. It hadn’t come from his comm., but rather seemed to float to him from somewhere beyond his little space. Had he really heard it though? Or was his desperate mind imagining things?

“Hello?” Clint tried, coughing hard at the effort it took to raise his voice. 

He strained his ears when he heard some kind of muffled response. He couldn’t make out what was being said, but it was undeniable that there was another person down here with him. He shined his light in the general direction he had heard the voice. There was a small gap in that direction that he might just barely be able to fit through. With an effort and several groans of pain, Clint used the forearm of his good arm -- good being a relative term at this point -- in order to drag himself toward the gap. 

“Hey,” Clint gasped as he moved. “Can you--” cough cough, “...you ‘ere me?” More muffled mumbling. Clint finally got close enough to shine his light through the gap, having to squint when it glared off something metallic. It took him a beat longer than it should have for him to realize what he was looking at. “Tony!” 

Tony was still mostly in his Iron-Man suit; the faceplate had been removed and lay to one side. The suit, along with Tony, was pinned from the chest down under a large slab on concrete. Clint felt adrenaline honing his senses as he focused on the way that Tony’s features were pulled in pain, in the way that he gasped weakly… and finally saw that the midsection of Tony’s metal suit was bent inward. 

“Shit, Tony,” Clint mumbled, suddenly realizing how serious the situation was. 

The gap between the area where Clint had been and where Tony lay was a tight squeeze for Clint to drag his broken body through, gritting his teeth so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if they cracked. But once he got through he found that this area was at least bigger and gave him more room to work with. 

“Hang on, jus--” cough, cough, wheeze, cough, wheeze, “h’ng on.” 

In the larger space he was able to get up on his knees and crawl his way over to Tony. The man was pale and his breath came in quiet, raspy gasps. His eyes locked on Clint as he approached, wide and terrified but also relieved that he had been found. Clint eyed the predicament, feeling a sinking in his chest. There wasn’t going to be a good way to do this, but judging by Tony’s inability to breath well enough to even try to speak at this point, they didn’t have any time to waste. 

Stoically ignoring his own protesting injuries, Clint shifted himself next to where Tony lay and carefully positioned himself so that his intact shoulder was wedged under the piece of concrete. 

“Ge’ ready,” Clint warned as he wheezed in a few steadying breaths. 

Looking back, he honestly wouldn’t be able to really understand how he did it. All the laws of physics were against him. Later, Tony would tease him about being like one of those mothers with a baby trapped under a car. All Clint knew was that despite everything, as he strained every single muscle in his beaten body, little by little that slab of concrete began to move. Somehow he managed to lift it just far enough that there were a few precious centimeters between the slab and Tony’s suit, giving him just barely enough space to pull himself out from under it. 

As Clint let the slab crash back into the ground he let out a raw cry of pain as his injuries screamed at him for being ignored. He slumped over, his limbs shaking and his throat raw and burning with every breath. He knew the task was only half done though. 

He blinked away the dark patches at the edges of his vision as he pushed himself over to where Tony now lay. The mechanic was scrabbling at the side of his armor, but his fingers were too bulky and uncoordinated with the suit dead in the water like it clearly was. Clint was suddenly glad they had drilled this so many times as he was easily able to find the small hatch in the side of the armor, reaching in and pulling a small lever that served as an emergency release for Tony’s suit in case of just this kind of situation. 

Tony gasped desperately as he clawed the now loose pieces of armor laying on his chest. Clint let out a sigh, letting himself slump over once again against the concrete slab, thankful that Tony was able to shed his own armor. 

“Shi’...” Tony breathed between coughing and wheezing as he rolled off of the pieces of his suit that were underneath him. He gasped and yelped at the motion, and Clint imagined that he had to have some severely bruised ribs, possibly even some broken ones. 

He should be moving toward Tony. He should be checking him over, seeing if he was really okay. But for some reason, his muscles would not move. He felt heavy and suddenly everything around him had a strange floating quality to it. 

“Barton?” 

Was the air around him getting thicker? Was Tony suddenly further away? No, as Clint blinked he saw that Tony had actually crawled closer to him. So why did he suddenly sound further away?

“Clint?” 

Clint suddenly noticed the blood that covered the ground, a thick trail of it smeared across the ground leading back to where he had come from. Even so, he was slow to realize that that blood was coming from him. He had been bleeding… from where? He suddenly couldn’t remember as large, black splotches suddenly moved across his vision. 

“Hold on, Clint. I think I c--” cough, “c’n rig a beacon. You just gotta--” cough, cough, cough, “you gotta…”

That’s all Clint would remember. He would wake up in the hospital several days later. He woke in a panic, only able to calm down when Steve left and came back pushing Tony in a wheelchair from his own recovery room. Tony had managed to hook up a small part of his suit directly to the arc reactor in his chest in order to send out a distress signal. Bruce -- who had been saved from being trapped in that building by the Hulk -- had been scanning for signals using the Quinjet. As soon as he found the signal he was able to direct Steve, Natasha and Thor -- who had been on the other side of the building that hadn’t sustained as much damage, leaving them relatively unscathed -- to where Tony and Clint had been trapped. 

It was a miracle that they had all made it out alive. This time it wasn’t a conscious enemy that almost got them, but a natural disaster that didn’t care who’s side you were on. 

[nny11writes]

Shadow Weaver, One Good Thing, and Moral Shades of Gray

Some Season 5 rambling for whoever wants it regarding Shadow Weaver, her actions, and the end of her character arc.

I might revisit this later more from her perspective, that scene (you know the one) felt very complex to me and I have a few different feelings about it, this is one of them. 

Spoilers below the cut!

Okay, I really loved Shadow Weaver this season. I’ve loved her every season, she’s such a great character and her concept, animation, and voice acting all work flawlessly together to breathe some real life into her. I just love her! Great bad guy!

And this season? No one is letting her fucking breath without body slamming her.

It was one of the things I loved about her interactions with everyone, that she’d say something and immediately get told off. No one was falling for her shit. And you can see the way she’s super annoyed and confused, amazing how much a mask can portray, “Excuse ME I’m a GOOD GUY now?????” No one was forgiving her, no one liked her, they barely even tolerated her. I feel like it was wearing her down. I haven’t re-watched yet, but I think we saw Weaver with or near cups several times, but regardless, for sure when Catra found her she was drunk. She was half fucking slurring as she drank at what could be the end of the world. It was a rather pathetic sight, and now the joke about Shadow Weaver being drunk at 8AM makes more sense. This is just some stuff to keep in mind as we mosey along.

Noelle has talked before about shades of moral gray in the series and how people can shift and move along that line, and how people can also still be good people making bad choices or bad people making good choices.

I think Shadow Weaver is being used to display that. She is a few baby steps away from the beyond Vanta Black of Horde Prime. She is not a good person, she is not a hero; even if some of the things she’s done are good for others or could read ‘heroic’.

There was also a running theme this season of “One Good Thing”.

Catra is an obvious one, “I just want to do one good thing in my life!” And she goes from thinking she’s made a heroic sacrifice of sorts by saving Glimmer to getting the chance to actually move forward. And even if her steps faltered, Catra moved forward and did far more than just one good thing.

Hordak had a few moments of getting to see him lower his walls with Entrapta, but the thing that stuck out to me was his face as he held a happily cooing Adora. “Oh…okay, I guess- I guess this baby is mine? WAIT NO, CAN’T DO, ABORT, NO EMOTIONS, EMOTIONS ARE FOR HORDE PRIME, GET THIS THING AWAY FROM ME!” (Okay so that wasn’t all just his face, but that’s the gist). Hordak didn’t kidnap Adora, he went where sensors showed a portal would be and found a baby. He could’ve left her there, he could’ve done a lot of things, but he had a one good thing moment where he chose to take that baby with him. Cradled close. It’s a kind action in some ways, and not in others. I think Hordak hoped the baby might have an answer or solution to the portal (talk about high hopes buddy). But I think he also didn’t want to leave a baby to die alone in a field. It’s not a big great declaration or heroic moment, but it is still a good thing. Hordak’s one good thing.

I think Shadow Weaver has always held a twisted sort of care and love for Adora, and I also really think that Shadow Weaver would have held just as disgusting and awful a brand of ‘love’ for Catra if Catra had done/been what she’d wanted (which let’s be real was unrealistic and was a bar she would’ve kept moving). Shadow Weaver’s love is not pure. Perhaps as Light Spinner it could have been. As Light Spinner she was still an awful person willing to use anyone including children to get what she wanted. She wasn’t a good person. But even bad people can feel true love for others. I’m not saying that her love was pure or was always good intentioned as Light Spinner, just that I think she had the capability for it. But once that entity/parasite consumed her? Once she let her lust for power overwhelm her basic humanity? No. I don’t think her love would have been good in any form FOR SURE after that.

So her insistence that, “Didn’t you hear? I’m one of the good guys now.” rings just that much more hollow and cracked. Her motivations have always been selfish and her choices rarely take other’s into account beyond ‘how can I use this to my advantage’. Her kindness is faked, her goodness is incidental, her love is poison, everyone else knows that. Everyone else treats her the way they should, cautiously at best and hostile as needed. But Shadow Weaver doesn’t get that. She truly believes that she’s a good person now and is baffled that no one else will believe her and if frustrated/upset that she can’t even go ‘pure evil’ because she doesn’t have the legs to stand on for it. “I’m a good guy,” fuck you.

I think this shows with Catra. She’s still an absolute bitch and a half to Catra, and again I’m not saying what she did or said was good or right. But I think Shadow Weaver had a few moments of legit thinking, “Okay, fine, gotta tone this shit down because I’m a good guy.” She was always in control of her behavior and this was such a fine razor to cut with. It’s like the idea of an abuser who just “loses control” and destroys things then apologizes. It’s never their things they destroy and they don’t help to clean up or replace anything. The apology is a lie. They never lost control, they knew what they were doing. Same with Shadow Weaver. It was disturbing to watch her interact neutrally or her warped ass version of nicely with Catra. Because we all know it’s not that Shadow Weaver was out of control before, so we know she could have acted this way the whole time. It still wouldn’t have been good. But I think going from torturing kids and threatening them with death, to basically cold indifference is a half step forward and a full step sideways. It still would’ve caused harm, it still would’ve left destruction in its wake but a different kind of it. I don’t know, I just thought this was a wonderfully god awful way to show that. It also shows that she thinks she can either smooth things over or control the situation, which good luck with that.

Got distracted a hot second there, my example in this is actually when she grabs Catra to cover her mouth. It’s a move that if literally anyone else had done it wouldn’t have felt so fucking skeevey. But it’s Shadow Weaver physically touching Catra, her favorite chew toy. Catra has a very justified reaction to that, and you can still see the wheels turning in Weavers head. “Ungrateful, I’m trying to save you, I’m a good guy!” Fucking hell this lady.

So here we are, with a genuinely awful and bad person who believes they’re a good person now and trying to pantomime what they think a good person would do. With her very twisted version of “love” and the realization coming ever closer that she’s not in control of anything, no one trusts her, and no one likes her. I think she absolutely is thinking about her legacy right here, I think she is definitely trying for one last manipulation to put a big underscore on “Shadow Weaver was a good guy”. 

I also, however, think she manipulates so well because she always draws a grain of truth into what she’s saying.

My example of this is her “You remind me of myself and I wanted you to be better, stronger than me.” Bullshit. Catra might have reminded Shadow Weaver vaguely of herself, but the rest is pure bullshit. Shadow Weaver doesn’t hate herself and certainly never did shit to make Catra a ‘better and stronger’ person. It’s 90% lies, but that 10% helps her sell her abuse.

So I think in her final moments there, Shadow Weaver does some complex mental gymnastics. She knows that Adora has to make it to the heart for anyone to survive. She knows that Adora loves Catra and that Catra loves Adora. She may know that if she doesn’t save Catra it is very likely that Adora will very likely not survive. Adora has always been ‘distracted and pulled down’ by Catra, so now she needs her ‘crutch’. I think Shadow Weaver also knows that once this is all done, no one will have a use for her and I don’t think she wants to face a world where she has no power and no control.

So she steps forward and puts one last manipulative play into motion.

And I think she sells it with a semi truth.

I’ve always thought it was interesting that even after joining the Rebellion that Shadow Weaver seemed so dismissive of Catra. Even as Catra was steam rolling them in Season 4. That Shadow Weaver didn’t even have a moment of, “Well damn, don’t like you still but I guess there was something competent and worthwhile underneath it all.” I can’t even remember if she mentions Catra at all by name when they aren’t in the same room together.

I think that Shadow Weaver was impressed, to some degree. She had always seen Catra as a pest, a gnat flying in her face and distracting Adora. Worthless, small, weak, and dumb. I think seeing how far Catra actually does make it is impressive to her. Not “oh wow that’s amazing!” impressive. More like, “huh, okay then” with a side of bitchiness. I think she never mentions Catra directly because of that. She hates Catra. She doesn’t want to admit she’s impressed by anything Catra’s done. She hates her and hates it and hates the whole thing.

So when Shadow Weaver removes her mask (definitely to play on them seeing her as a person first and not a monster) (although I think it also is a very good way to remind the audience that monsters are human too and that is far scarier to deal with, think about those photos of Nazi’s smiling on their weekend away from work where they helped kill thousands) and says, “I am so proud of you, Catra.”

90% is a lie, 10% is truth. Shadow Weaver might not think that’s the ratio, she might really be buying her own line. That’s something to explore another time perhaps.

And then she goes out in a blaze of glory with no need to face her own bleak and uncertain future, ‘protecting’ Adora, who she holds a dark and twisted affection for, and secures her legacy as a good guy. One final, “I fucking told you so”.

Shadow Weaver’s death is not a redemption. I think she hopes it is, and knows that even if it isn’t, Catra and Adora can never deny the impact she had on shaping them. That they’ll never really be free of her, and therefore no one else will either.

She will never truly have to face the consequences of what she’s done. For all that the other characters shut her down, no one gave her the true blue knock down drag out no holds barred VIBE CHECK she deserved. And without that this ending is very unsatisfying for some. For others that missing piece adds.

My take?

She’s a bad person, doing her One Good Thing, not realizing that it doesn’t take her from bad to good. Her sacrifice is, in this way, in vain. She’s a bad guy and will be remembered as such. She did her one good thing. 

She’s still a monster. 

[inkognito97]

Vampire obiwan's parents are shocked that quigon is a vampire as well

Keith Kenobi definitely despised him, Qui-Gon had suspected that as soon as he had left the transport vehicle he and Obi-Wan had come with. There was a lot of jealously in the other man and he did not need to think long to know the why. Though he did not think the man had any right to feel this way. Keith and his wife Lohla had given away their son to the temple and therefore they had given away the privilege of raising him. This visit was just a short one and would most likely be the last one, until Obi-Wan reached knighthood and the parents just had to deal with that.

Qui-Gon knew that he was just a little unfair, but the way the older Kenobi looked at him… well, he was allowed to have feelings and certain thoughts too, even as a vampire.

“So, how long have you been my son’s Master?” Lohla seemed genuinely interested. Also did Qui-Gon not detect any hostility from her. She seemed to like or at least approve of him. That was certainly better than nothing.

She set the trail she had brought, with old and worn, yet also expensive looking tableware on the dark wooden table. The tea smelled sweet and somehow Qui-Gon doubted that it was to his taste. 

Qui-Gon stole a quick glance to his young charge, who was sitting in the living room on the brown carpet, right before the beige couch, entertaining his small brother with stories and by playing with him. It was a nice picture and Qui-Gon was happy for the bond his student had formed. 

“We have been together since he was three years old, it was when he started to show signs of being a vampire and he needed special care and attention then. The creché had wisely decided to hand him to me, they simply cannot spare the attention Obi-Wan would have needed, not with so many other Force sensitive children.”

“I can imagine that,” there was a dreamy smile on her face, when the older Jedi mentioned the children.

A huff escaped Keith. “Are there even other vampires in that Order of yours?”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at that. Could the man not tell that he himself was one? “There are a few, yes.”

“They must have been quite weak and pathetic, if they decided to give Obi-Wan to you.”

“Keith!” Lohla was shocked at her husband’s rudeness. “Forgive my husband, Master Jedi.” She pleaded. 

Qui-Gon waved the insult away as if it were nothing. Actually, it WAS nothing. He knew of his own worth and that was enough. “No harm done.”

Keith had completely ignored his wife’s outburst, his red eyes were firmly fixed on the long haired Jedi, who returned the gaze calmly. A slight tuck at his bond told Qui-Gon, that his Padawan had caught the tension in the air, but he quickly sent reassurance back. That was a matter that needed to be dealt with by him and him alone. Obi-Wan would just get into the way. 

“Tell me Jedi,” the older Kenobi leaned on his elbows and also closer to the taller male. “what has my boy learned about being a vampire.”

At first, Qui-Gon had pushed the desire to lean back, away. It would have been seen as a sign of weakness on his part. But now that he had been asked a question, he could lean back in his chair under the pretense of thinking about his answer. Also, he crossed his arms over his chest and averted the other vampire’s red eyed glare by looking over his head at the white kitchen cabinets with flowers and other greenery painted on them. 

“The first thing my Padawan learned, was concealing his fangs, afterwards we moved to transformation. He is able to turn into a bat, though not for very long and he has a few… problems with turning into other animals, though we are still working and I am confident that he will overcome this hurdle too.”

Lohla’s eyes were glittering and the pride in her was palpable even without the Force. She was happy that her son had already learned so much and it showed. Keith on the other hand…

“And what has he learned that is actually of use?” he asked gruffly, not caring for any of the things the Jedi Master had just named.

Qui-Gon barely kept himself from stating his real opinion. He should have known from the way the younger vampire was moving and talking that he was one of those, who only thought with their fangs instead of their brains. Just his luck then.

“He knows how to hunt, kill and fight, if that is what you want to know,” the brown haired Jedi answered coldly, his eyes were hard. The female at the table shifted, she had noticed the change in the Master’s mood, while her husband seemed as oblivious as ever.

“Finally,” the ginger haired vampire said arrogantly, “and here I thought you were turning him into a tame leech or something.”

Lohla had eventually excused herself to look after her two sons. The two boys had moved out of their line of sight and she just wanted to make sure that everything was alright.

“Mindless killing is neither the Jedi way, nor the way for ANYONE to behave,” the long haired male said, his eyes fixed on Keith’s face.

The older Kenobi’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I would watch out, what you are saying, human. You should keep your ugly nose out of business that you do not understand, because even your little lightsaber toy will not help you here. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that my son is not properly taken care of, not with incompetent beings like you, who cannot even teach him how to rip someone’s throat,” he growled deep in his throat. When he thought that he was impressing Qui-Gon in anyway, then he should be disappointed.

Meanwhile Lohla had returned, yet she stopped in the doorway, when she heard her husband’s threat. She was about to reprimand him and apologize to her son’s guardian once again, but said Jedi beat her too it. 

He leaned forward, his face only inches away from the other vampires. “I don’t need my lightsaber to beat you,” he replied calm and in a deep voice and he finally allowed his eyes to turn blood red as well.

Keith Kenobi flinched violently away, falling back with his chair, lying on the ground like a stranded whale. He was struggling to get up, surprise and sudden fear making him unfocused and therefore making him lose control of his body. Lohla Kenobi stood frozen where she was. She was openly gaping at the now standing Jedi Master, who was towering over her unfriendly husband. There were no emotions in his eyes and his posture was relaxed, yet something told him that one wrong move was enough, to make the man jump into actions. She knew Keith had no chance against him.

Qui-Gon let razor sharp and long teeth emerge from his gums and he openly bared them for Keith to see. “As I said, there is so much more to being a vampire and you would do good to remember that. Also, Obi-Wan is mine now, you gave him away all these years ago and as the Knights, who came and took him with him have surely said and explained, there NO taking him back.”

“But…” Keith stuttered, but he was interrupted.

“He. Is. My. Son. Now.” He emphasized every single word. “Deal with it.” Without another word, he strode past the only female in the house and walked into the living room, where his little bat boy was having fun with his brother. A gentle smile appeared on Qui-Gon’s features and he made his fangs and red eyes disappear again, before sitting himself next to the two boy. Immediately he found his lap full of two eager young souls, who were begging for a story that he was more than willing to provide.

[slimacwrites]

Dance With Demons - Ch. 30 - Partners

Killian Jones is fighting a losing battle with his vice and hiding it behind his music persona. Emma Swan is the cop who arrests him for it. But that isn't the first time the two of them have met. After Emma impulsively offers him her apartment to recover away from the tabloids, it also won't be the last. For her it's just giving someone a chance she never had. But can it be more? Read the rest here.

Header by the wonderfully talented @shady-swan-jones

Warning: Contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show’s creators.

Emma slid out from the bed, re-tucking Killian’s arm under the blanket from where it had been wrapped around her waist. She hadn’t slept so well in years, as cliché as it felt to her, yet she had. Probably because she felt safe. That made her nearly cringe. Emma wasn’t used to someone else making her feel safe. She’d only ever been her own ally. Hell, she’d spent far too many nights after the first Neal debacle sleeping in the backseat of her Bug and made it through that. It was almost too much to think that she had felt so safe with someone else. Both because she needed no one. And also, secretly, upset that she’d gone so long without letting anyone in when she could have been slowly shedding the exhaustion she had worn as a coat for years.

Honestly, despite the mild panic bubbling under the surface, Emma wasn’t exactly pleased at the prospect of being out of bed, feet shifting on the cold hardwood floor, but that Chinese the night before had made her parched. She needed a drink. Emma glanced back at Killian, studying his slow breathing to make sure he was still asleep before tip toing from the room. The last thing she wanted after Killian being so nervous about sleeping with her was to wake up to an empty bed. But Killian was still exhausted and healing. She really didn’t want to wake him up yet. Also, with Regina slated to arrive sometime that day with the contracts for Emma, Killian having promised to contact her and from what Killian had told Emma about his manager, Killian could use all the sleep he could get.

Emma crept down the stairs, moving quietly until she was far enough away from the bedroom that her steps wouldn’t wake Killian. Once she was walking at her normal pace it only took moments to be standing in front of the open fridge in the kitchen. It was a little strange, moving around someone else’s house as if she belonged there. Rooting through a fridge that looked like a transformer to find something that wasn’t liquefied kale, even though it warmed her to see Killian still used the substance even weeks after Emma had first showed up at it. Wearing his old sweats as if they were hers. Like she belonged somewhere other than her tiny shoebox of an apartment.

Even in the Nolan’s house, Emma had always waited to ask permission to take food or occupy the television, especially after the debacle with the Neal case where she knew they were terribly disappointed in her failures. Emma hadn’t ever belonged anywhere. Not in the foster homes that cycled her around because she got herself labelled as a trouble maker, a runner, an aggressive teen and everyone was too scared to take on the challenge for more than a few months. Not in the patrol unit she’d been placed in that judged her before they even knew half the story. Not even in her own skin.

But in Killian’s house, she felt free to do as she pleased. Digging through the fridge was a far cry from the home when she was six that chained the fridge doors closed and only fed her when she deserved it.

How Killian had crept up on her, given her this after their very rocky start, blew her mind.

Shook her to her very core too.

But she wasn’t concentrating on that at the moment. Couldn’t. Instead she focused on extricating a water bottle from under a pile of coffee creamers.

Emma was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of the front door opening. She immediately stiffened, preparing herself to go out into the hall and beat the living shit out of some paparazzi who’d jumped the fence.

“I swear to all that is holy, that if you’re upstairs sleeping, or worse, fucking, I’ll dump ice water on you!” a woman’s voice called. Now Emma froze for another reason. There was only one woman who would have broken in to Killian’s house and then yelled like that. Regina. Who Emma definitely hadn’t expected to come so early.

And Emma was stuck, standing like a deer in the headlights, in the open door of the fridge while looking like absolute shit.

Fuck.

And just her luck, Killian’s Optimus Prime fridge started beeping, angry it had been left open for as long as it had.

Fucking fuck.

Regina sighed, muttering something about Killian not knowing what a door was, before her heels clicked towards the kitchen. Emma scrambled to shut the fridge door, scanning the kitchen and praying to the hair gods that there was an elastic, or comb or a damn razor, on the counters so she could tame her hair that was still tear-matted and gross from the day before.

“Oh.” There was a throat clearing and Emma looked towards the door, heat rising in her face. “I take it you’re Emma,” Regina drawled, eyes raking up Emma’s frame while Emma shifted on bare feet, trying to straighten the yellow t-shirt she wore.

“Uh, yeah.” Emma cleared her throat, finally looking at the manager. Regina stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, one of her sky high patent black leather pumps crossed over the other. She wore a tailored suit, a black pencil skirt with a more decorative blazer, big gold buttons running double breasted down her front a la military style. The cami under the blazer did little to hide her breasts, the dip between them accentuated by a long necklace with a red stone hanging from the chain. Her short black hair was blown out and flicked up at the end while an eyebrow climbed carefully up her forehead. Emma was being appraised and she had no idea if she was passing whatever test she was currently in. “I, uh, sorry. Killian didn’t tell me you were coming so early or I would have changed.”

At her words, Regina’s lips finally twitched up into a half smile. “I’ve seen Killian in worse.”

“Okay.”

Emma really had no idea what to do. This was Killian’s manager, the woman the industry called the Evil Queen of Record Deals, and her future boss. Killian’s manager, who knew more about Emma than she was comfortable with. Especially since Emma didn’t know what Regina actually knew.

Footsteps stumbled and thumped down the stairs. “Emma?” Killian called out, sounding a bit frantic. Emma’s heart plummeted, not wanting Killian to have woken up alone after the night before. Of course he thought she would run. She’d pretty much said she’d run at this point if they had sex. Co-sleeping wasn’t that different that it was unreasonable for Killian to think she’d pull a four-minute mile getting out of his mansion.

Before Emma could answer, Regina opened her mouth. “In here, Mr. Jones. Your girlfriend and I have just acquainted ourselves.”

“What?” Killian practically shouted in panic, skidding into the kitchen, eyes just slightly panicked. Emma tried to send him a reassuring smile and mouthed sorry at him but Killian was still obviously off kilter. Regina appraised her client, lips twisting a bit in concern before she straightened.

“Killian, why don’t you go order some breakfast for us and clean yourself up. Take a minute. Okay?”

Killian glanced towards Regina, pulling in a deep breath. Obviously, this wasn’t the first time she’d seen his anxiety flaring or had to get him settled and cleaned up first thing in the morning. And it seemed that Killian trusted her enough to do just as she asked, backing out of the room with a nod. But why wouldn’t he? Regina had been the only person in the world Killian had for years. Except now he had Emma and she hadn’t done anything to soothe him. Had actually caused the upset.

“Would you excuse me for a moment?” Emma asked, not really focused on Regina, but instead on the spot Killian had just vacated. Regina nodded, sending a put out sigh her way that was clearly meant to cover any actual feelings the Evil Queen was having. With a weak smile, Emma hurried after Killian, catching him at the top of the stairs with a hand around his wrist.

“Killian,” she huffed, a bit out of breath from sprinting the stairs. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I was thirsty so I snuck down for a bottle of water and Regina arrived before I could get back to you. The last thing I wanted was to upset you.”

Killian pulled in a deep breath then gave her a tiny smile, shifting his hand so his fingers entwined with hers. “I overreacted,” Killian answered sheepishly. “I didn’t even stop to consider that you were somewhere in the house.”

“I won’t run, Killian. Well, maybe I can’t promise that,” Emma added with a self-depreciating grin and a shake of her head. “But I promise you won’t wake up alone, again. I’ll always wake you up before I go get water or shower or go for coffee. At least until we’re a bit more settled, okay?”

“Okay,” Killian answered, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her lips, just a sweet, little thing.

“And now I have to go pretend I don’t look like a slob in front of your manager,” Emma replied, pulling away and trying not to shudder.

Killian waved dismissively at her. “The woman walked in on me face down, naked, in the tub more than once. You look beautiful, especially in comparison to the kind of scene she’s used to. I’ll be back soon.” Killian said it so nonchalantly. As if he wasn’t talking about being face down ass up in his own alcoholism. It did very little to comfort her. All it did was remind her how many times she could have lost him before they even met.

Emma grabbed his hand again, pulling him closer, steadying him with her other hand as he stumbled a bit in surprise. “Please be safe.” The statement seemed ridiculous. The man was just going to shower but Emma just needed to say it. Needed to vocalize, at least in some way, how much she needed him to stay safe. Killian gave her a funny little look before nodding.

“Of course, Swan. I promise.” With that, Killian pulled away and moved towards his bedroom and ensuite bathroom to shower. Emma stood on the landing for a few more moments, watching him retreat.

With a sigh Emma padded down the stairs and back into the kitchen, wishing she at least had a pair of jeans to pull on. Maybe she’d have clothing at Killian’s house someday. Maybe she wouldn’t be stuck in the sweats because she had jeans and tank tops shoved in his bottom drawer someday. Maybe someday she’d have a toothbrush that was hers and shower gel in the shower waiting for her after work.

Maybe someday.

But definitely not a while.

Which was a bit of a sin because she was pretty sure there was a hole in the crotch of her, or technically Killian’s, pants and she was about to have breakfast with her celebrity boyfriend’s manager.

When Emma got back to the kitchen, Regina was readying a second cup of coffee from the fancy Keurig machine on the counter. The woman turned as Emma entered, motioning with the cup in her hand to the island sprouting from the main counter and lined with bar chairs. Emma sat at the seat with the mug of black coffee steaming in front of it and moved to doctor it up with far too much sugar.

“So, Emma,” Regina drawled, leaning against the island across from Emma. Emma raised her brows in question as she lifted the mug to her lips and blew on the surface. “You and Killian have been through quite a lot.”

Emma shrugged in response, not sure what to say. Emma really wasn’t the kind of person to spill her soul to a stranger, even if the stranger wasn’t really a stranger. And what was she supposed to say anyways? Yeah, I pulled his ass off his boat and nursed him back to health even though I was pretty sure he was going to die at least once and now we’re dating? That really wasn’t a proper summary for their relationship.

Regina smirked a bit at Emma’s vague response. “Thank you for keeping Killian’s name out of the papers regarding his arrest.”

Again, Emma shrugged, but this time because Regina had actually sounded genuine. “Killian needed a hand. I did what was right.”

“Did you like him right away?”

Emma snorted. “I threatened to shoot him multiple times.”

“Been there,” Regina answered, raising her own coffee cup in a cheers. Emma tilted her cup slightly, feeling a bit awkward in front of the manager. As if she were going to say the wrong thing and lose her new job. Or reveal something she shouldn’t. If only Killian were there to help guide her.

When Regina realized Emma wasn’t going to say any more there was a shift, as if the woman was getting down to business. Emma swallowed against the anxiety.

“So, for professional reasons, I need to know- why are you taking this job?”

“What did Killian tell you?” Emma answered evasively.

Regina smirked again, seemingly pleased by Emma’s prickliness. “That there was a problem with your job. End of story.” Regina took a sip of her coffee. “As Killian’s manager, I need to be aware of everything. Including my employees who come into contact with him, as I’m assuming for now you’d like to keep your relationship secret?”

Emma nodded. Neither of them were ready. They hadn’t even had sex yet. She and Killian would cross that bridge eventually, when there was less chance of her running or him self-destructing. When they were stable and whole (or less broken) and ready for all the judgement that the public would reign down on them for being together. It wasn’t that she was ashamed to be with Killian, or that she didn’t want anyone to know. People knew about them and she was actually falling for Killian and found herself more content than ever. It was just that she knew Killian’s image was on shaky ground and there was still that niggling worry that Emma would ruin it completely when her past came out. Once they were stronger, emotionally, physically, romantically, then the gossip rags might not mean so much.

“So, regarding your last job?”

Emma sighed and put down her cup. Regina needed to know for Killian’s sake. Killian was the only reason Emma was going to share this story. Killian. “I used to be a detective in Queen’s homicide department. Once of the cases I was assigned a year ago was for an ex.” Emma swallowed thickly. Regina was watching her carefully. “I, uh, had a rough childhood and my teenage-self’s ex did some bad things. Tried to set me up for the fall for his crime but I alerted the police first. My ex, Neal, ratted on some people to get a lighter sentence and parole and the day he was released from jail a few years later, the drug people he ratted on murdered him. I was assigned the case and I didn’t say anything about our past. I made some big mistakes, even though I caught the killer, and my past relationship came out. A rumor started that I was a dirty cop. That I was sleeping with Neal. No one knew that it was me that sent him to jail so rumours flew. I was given a choice- go to the patrol unit or stay and be investigated and I knew how that would end. So I left for my partner. And then yesterday,” Emma swallowed against the bile in her throat, “the patrol unit learned about what happened in homicide and pulled my social services file from when I was a kid. All because I was going to get a promotion. They’re going to do an internal investigation for sure this time. I was suspended while it happens. I know they’ll find me innocent and then fire me anyways for disrupting the ranks,” Emma said the last part in a deep voice, mocking her precinct captain. “So I’ll stay until the investigation closes and then quit on them.”

Regina was quiet for a moment. Sweat broke out on Emma’s forehead and she ran her tongue across her lips. After a very long pause, the woman spoke. “I know what rumors will do. I wasn’t who came up with the Evil Queen name. And I’ve spent years protecting Killian from them. I can keep those ones away from Killian now that I know.”

Emma nodded, blowing out a relieved breath. Killian could stay safe from the mess. And Emma didn’t detect a lie in Regina’s words. The woman seemed to know what revealed secrets and rumours could do to a person. That brought some comfort to Emma, knowing she hadn’t shared her story to a brick wall. Especially when it still felt so tender.

“So, you were good at your job?”

Emma nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Licensed to carry a gun?” Emma nodded again. She’d have to buy a new pistol, one that wasn’t property of the police precinct, but she still had her license.

“Comfortable working security?”

“I’d like to move into it full time once I quit, yes,” Emma answered. “That or bail bonds. Taking this assignment allows me to test the waters, as it were, and will help keep Killian feeling safer and more secure.”

Regina nodded. “I believe that.” She took a sip of her coffee. “I don’t usually like hiring someone with a conflict of interest.” Emma’s heart plummeted and she stared into the steaming mug of coffee in her hands. “The last time I did it was with Killian’s ex, and she was terrible at her job as merchandise manager. But,” Emma glanced up “that was a different Killian then. Keeping Killian safe now will be a harder job because it’s not just out of control groupies you need to be mindful of. It’s also himself. And I think, that with your past work at protecting him from the media about the arrest, and keeping him safe during his detox, that I would be making a huge mistake not hiring you.”

Emma couldn’t help herself, she gave Regina a little grin. “Thank you, Ms. Mills. I promise I’ll take this seriously. It’s my job first and foremost. I won’t lose another career because of stupid reasons.”

Regina returned the smile, albeit, somewhat reluctantly despite the obvious pleasure at Emma’s words that she couldn’t quite contain. “Excellent. After breakfast we’ll discuss pay, timeline and sign the contract.”

Right on time the PA system rung, a voice coming across it stating breakfast had arrived. Feet hurried down the stairs and to the front door as Killian moved to grab whatever takeout he’d ordered. Emma and Regina waited in silence as Killian let the delivery man up and retrieved the food.

When Killian made it into the kitchen, damp hair dripping onto a white Henley and leaving transparent spots, he looked far more at ease than he had previously. Killian set the brown paper bags on the counter before moving to the fridge and pulling out one of his juices. Regina raised a brow at that before shaking her head in disbelief, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of her lips. How many times had she watched Killian pull out a beer first thing in the morning? How many times had she been the one forced to order breakfast because he needed sobering up before work? It gave Emma a new respect for the woman, explained why she was so sharp with Killian. The angry banter and persona had to have been a mechanism for survival. Just like Killian’s rock star persona had been.

“Turnip before coffee?” Regina asked with a raised brow and a gesture at the yellow juice in Killian’s hand.

“Actually, milady, it’s pineapple ginger. Better for you that coffee.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “You say that, but you don’t have to deal with yourself first thing in the morning.”

“No, I have to deal with you. Maybe I should get a taser instead of a fruit juice?”

“Open the breakfast, Jones, before I order Emma to taser you.”

With a laugh, Killian obliged, moving to the two brown bags on the counter releasing a delicious smell that had Emma’s mouth watering. Killian produced three different Styrofoam containers, peaking in them quickly before distributing them to their rightful owners. Regina got a traditional breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon and Emma, pancakes with chocolate chips as preferred. Killian though, instead of the traditional diner food Emma and Regina got, produced an egg white omelette with salsa on top.

Regina raised a brow at Killian’s breakfast. “I didn’t know you knew what an egg white was.”

Killian rolled his eyes and shovelled a large piece of omelette into his mouth. “You’re very supportive, Queenie.”

Regina sombre at that, pursing her lips as if she were offended Killian would suggest she wasn’t. Emma just sat at the counter, quietly eating, not really understanding their relationship and a bit too scared of Regina to try and jump in. “Killian-”

“I know,” Killian answered, a soft tone to match Regina’s. “You show you care differently.” Killian leaned forward on the counter. “That is, when a man is lucky enough to be cared for by Regina Mills.” There was something about the way Regina stiffened, almost inperceptively, at Killian’s words that made Emma think she was hiding something from her client. Killian didn’t seem to notice, busy with his breakfast, but it made Emma wonder if perpetually, an infamously single Regina Mills had found someone. Someone Killian wasn’t supposed to know about. Emma would have to keep her eyes open about that while in Boston.

The morning progressed fairly simply after that. Killian and Regina bantered and Emma signed the contract for her job in Boston. The pay was good. Really good. Which was to be expected, Emma supposed, considering who she was guarding, but it was enough to ensure her rent was paid for a few months without her having to dip into her savings that would be all she had once she quit the force. It wasn’t until Emma saw the number and did the calculations that she realized how relieved she was, how much of the worry she had was related to running out of money and being that poor girl she had been after leaving the foster care system. Emma had promised herself she’d never return to that, but subconsciously it seemed that she had begun to expect it.

When Regina left, a snarky comment about finding a green juice that was good for writing lyrics following her out the front door, Kilian turned to Emma who was still going over her copy of the contracts at the counter.

“Alright, lass?” Killian asked, nearing her.

She nodded. “A little overwhelmed. Your ass costs a lot to guard,” she answered with a whistle.

“Ah,” Killian nodded, sagely, making Emma roll her eyes. “But it is a fine ass.”

Fair point.

Emma really couldn’t argue that she had a hot boyfriend.

Even if technically she’d only ever seen the outline of his ass in boxers. Someday she’d see it properly.

Emma swallowed down the surge of attraction that thought brought and shook her head.

“You don’t feel weird about it though, right?”

Did she feel weird about being paid when she was dating Killian? “A bit, but mainly about how much I’m getting. I mean, I’m really glad I’m the one who’s guarding you and not some temp, so it’s fine.”

“I’m glad you’re guarding me too, Swan,” Killian answered, leaning over and kissing her cheek. “No one I’d feel safer with.”

Those words, the realization that someone trusted her to do her job, properly, filled her with a strange warmth. She’d gone so long with everyone thinking she was a dirty cop, some sketchy person with a strange backstory. But here was Killian, wanting her to be the one to care for him. This was how she should have felt in the force. This was the satisfaction and comfort she should have had while a cop.

She used to have it. So did David.

David. The man who felt terrible for not being able to protect her. The man who was her partner. Best friend. The brother she never had.

“So what are your plans today?”

Emma glanced down at the clothes she was wearing. As much as she didn’t want to, she needed to clean herself up, freshen up for her fresh start. And, most importantly, do something about the one person she’d been desperately trying not to think about as she signed the new contract.

The one person who she needed to absolve of guilt.

“I need to go home, get changed then go see David,” Emma answered, squeezing Killian’s hand when his face fell. Honestly, she didn’t want to leave either. She’d much rather go shower in Killian’s ensuite in what was likely to be a magazine worthy shower and pull on more of his pyjamas, but she couldn��t do that. “It’s just, I’m leaving the force and David doesn’t know. That isn’t fair to him.”

“David just wants to see you happy,” Killian replied.

“I know,” Emma said on a sigh, moving towards where her shoes were stashed at the front door. “But David gave everything up for me. I need to talk to him. Make sure he’s happy.”

Making David happy needed to happen. David gave up his dream job for her. To stay with her. It did make her feel guilty, she’d just pushed that to the back of her mind because yesterday she’d been angry and hurt. In true Emma nature, nothing else mattered but getting away from the precinct and anything associated with it, including David.

Emma rolled over everything in her mind as she travelled back to her apartment. She’d promised Killian to return the clothes when he came over the next day after the studio and still having the sweats on her brought a level of comfort to what she was about to do. Cut the ties to the one person who’d been there for her through everything. Her first partner. First real best friend. First person to pull her from the darkness and give her a city that was a home not a stopping place. David had been there. She owed him.

With a sigh Emma trudged up the stairs to her apartment. A quick shower and a change and then she’d be back in her car for the drive to the Nolan’s. She wasn’t looking forward to the conversation. Not at all. Emma let herself into the apartment and still when she realized the boots sitting by the door weren’t hers.

“Hi.”

Emma glanced up to see David, looking a complete wreck, just as she did, sitting on the couch. Had he been there since yesterday? Emma’s heart broke, guilt surrounding her for running. “Hi.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I’m here.”

Emma shook her head. “Of course not.”

“I tried calling.”

“My phone got left in the car and the night cold killed the battery.”

“Oh.”

Awkward. This conversation, David on the sofa, Emma at the door, spilling stilted words was awkward. Not what it should have been.

Not even close.

Emma sighed and crossed the floor to the sofa, seating herself beside David. David turned towards her, bloodshot eyes raking over the awful hair and strange yellow shirt Emma was currently sporting. She twisted her mouth up into a wry smile, trying to show how she was feeling.

“I’m sorry,” David blurted. “If I’d only been there sooner. But Leo was sick. I had no idea Greg would do something like this.”

Emma reached out a hand to stop the rant. “It isn’t your fault,” she answered. Talking, or thinking, about what had happened at the precinct made her sick but she couldn’t not. She couldn’t run. Ugh. Was the advice she’d been giving Killian for weeks finally starting to rub off on her?

“But I should have been there.”

“It wouldn’t have helped. Greg was determined. You would have gotten in trouble too.”

“But you wouldn’t have been alone in the investigation.”

Emma squeezed David’s forearm with a sigh. “And what good would that have done, David? You getting tangled up with me? Going without a paycheck? Getting fired when we both know you need the paycheck to keep everything stable. I don’t want you in this with me, David.” David looked almost offended that she would say something like that. Emma shook her head, trying to keep her exasperation and anger at her situation at bay. “David, you’ve given me everything. A family. Friends. Stability. A partner. I couldn’t have asked for more, especially after everything life threw at me. If you ended up getting suspended I’d never be able to forgive myself.” Emma cleared her throat, bracing herself to tell David what she was planning to do. “Especially since I’m leaving the force.”

“You’re what?” David asked on a breath, eyes widening. Emma glanced down at her lap.

“I can’t work there anymore. You know, David, you know that they’ll find me innocent, clear me, then find a way to fire me for causing tension in the ranks. And there’s no where left to transfer. So I’m quitting. Leaving on my own terms. I don’t want to leave you David, but honestly, I need to leave the force. I can’t be in a situation where everyday I’m reminded that I’m not good enough. That I’m dirty, nothing more than Neal’s whore. You can’t protect me from that, but you know what? Finally, after all these years, I can protect you. I can leave. Free you up. You were going to be captain David, before I messed everything up with the Neal investigation. You were going to head the homicide department someday. But with me by your side you can’t. Not anymore. Especially not in patrol,” Emma spit the word, Greg’s actions still causing bile to rise in her throat.

“But you’re my partner,” David answered, a soft sort of acceptance tinged with a great deal of sadness in his voice.

“There are lots of other good cops out there. I’m still going to be your friend. I’ll still be Auntie Em to Leo. I’m just not going to be at work. You do understand why I’m doing this, right?”

David was quiet for a long moment, long enough for Emma to start to worry that he didn’t, before he nodded. “I do.” David pulled in another deep breath. “But what are you going to do now?”

Emma grinned, despite herself, feeling excitement start to bubble up through the guilt. “I’m going to go into private security. At least for now. I signed a contract with Killian’s manager this morning to do a trial run on a trip to Boston next week. They want me since I know about Killian’s issues. And I think it would be a really great start. I may hate it, but at least I get a paycheck and know, right?”

“And you get to guard your boyfriend on a mini-vacation.”

“That helps too,” Emma answered with a bit of a laugh. “I wish this didn’t happen, David, but it did. It probably was only a matter of time anyways. So, for once, I’m doing this on my own terms. I’m deciding what happens with the police force. Me.”

“I’m proud of you, Emma. For finally standing up to the abuse.”

She grinned again before sobering quickly. “But before I quit, I need you to do something, okay?” David nodded, waiting for her to go on, sensing the abrupt change in her mood. “You gave up your dream job for me David. I’ve never forgiven myself for that.” Emma held up a hand to stop David arguing. “I know you’d never leave with me in the force so I’m setting you free now. A job came up in Homicide a week ago. I know you got the email. I did. But I want you to answer it. It’s a different precinct, but it’s still Homicide. I want you to distance yourself from me, say what you need to in order to fix what they think of you, no matter how nasty, and apply for the job. You’ll get it. Everyone loves you and you were on track to climb higher before. Go back to being a detective.”

David watched her carefully for a moment before he gave her a small smile. “I’ll never have a partner as good as you.”

“Either will I.”