#brought to you by this enby and their criminal hands

[reveseke]

Bob the raccoon

PT. Bob the raccoon. PT end

— Request? No

— Criminal minds; Penelope Garcia & teen bro! Mute! Reader

— No warnings! Fluff

— Note; don't bring raccoons into your home from the wilderness. :") Reader's designed to be mute in this and as such uses sign language in the moment. Reader's body & gender ambiguous, enby & trans friendly.

The silence was quite defeating as the boy stood in the doorway with a big gray, white and brown creature in tow staring or rather challenging Penelope's wide gaze. If there was something the blond didn't expect was to see her brother standing with a ducking raccoon in hands held like a cat just sniffing around. Having just gotten out of the shower after a quite challenging day, was a calm evening anything to ask for?

Well, it seems she had to be praying for one at this point to ensure one, but today was not one of those nice evenings.

"(Name) why have you brought a raccoon?" Shifting to look better at her brother, Penny put the mug of coffee down she had in her hands. Sighing heavily as the boy signed with one hand as best as he could so as not to drop the now wiggling creature with a bright, sweet, and innocent smile.

"His name is Bob, do you like bob?"

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language and mild medical drama Warnings: Brief depictions of medical treatments for blood loss and its symptoms Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Bela has always wondered who her soulmate was, the person she was connected to by red string. When she finally meets them, she's devastated to find them hanging in her basement, being drained of blood. But her soulmate won't die- not if she can do something about it. Notes: Soulmate AU in which people have a red thread tied to their left ring finger (or elsewhere if missing the finger/hand), which connects to their soulmate. By default the string is taut/tight, only getting loose when the pair is relatively close to each other.

1: Stem The Flow

How long had she waited for this day? How long had Bela monitored the red string tied to her hand, waiting for it to be anything other than taut? A decade, at the least, if not two or more. For so long she had dreamt of her soulmate, albeit discreetly, wondering about every facet of their being. Entire days had been spent imagining them, and how they would come into her life. Sometimes, on those days, she would gently tug her end of the thread. Every single time, without fail, her soulmate had returned the motion. It warmed her heart more than she’d ever admit, to know that her excitement was not one-sided.

At times, it did worry her, the feelings in her chest reminding her of her youngest sister. Daniela was obsessed with love, dangerously so, to the point of being downright delusional. More than once her “affections” had gotten their family into some sort of trouble. No matter how mature Bela considered herself to be, there was a part of her that worried about repeating her sister’s mistakes. What if her excitement about her partner led her to overlook something crucial? What if the person in question posed a threat to her family? How easy would it be, then, for her to cut them off?...

Today, perhaps, she would find out.

The sun had set over the Romanian landscape, and with the moon rose the Dimitrescu household. First out of bed, as always, Bela wasted no time in getting dressed. Hazy visions of her fading dreams clouded her mind, tugging on her thoughts as always. Most days they felt more like memories than anything else. Today, they are quieter than usual, easily fading into the background. When the last traces of her grogginess disperse, Bela finds herself glancing at her left hand. It’s a daily habit, although discreet, that always leaves her with bittersweet feelings.

“Wait…” Bela whispered, as her eyes took in the unexpected sight: The red string of fate, tied to her left ring finger, loose as can be. It trails to the ground, coiled a single time, before heading underneath her door. “Am I dreaming?” She does not bother to pinch herself to check. Instead she practically jumps into her shoes, dashing out of her room with unfamiliar glee. Maidens in the hallways have to leap aside to avoid her, but she does not care, for once ignoring the standards her mother had instilled in her. If her sisters could be chaotic, we couldn’t she?

So she follows the thread, eagerly, without even wondering why it was so loose. No, she didn’t think about the implications of the situation. In her mind, it did not matter why her soulmate was finally within her reach, it simply mattered that they were. Soon enough they would be in her arms, safe, with nothing else to bother them. And then she’d be happy, finally having someone she was on equal terms with. Finally having someone to confide in, to cherish, to whisper sweet nothings to in the dead of the night.

She doesn’t hesitate until she finds the string wrapped around the door to the basement. At last the signs click together in her mind, like a conspiracy board bound with crimson ties. Instantly panic replaces whatever excitement she had been feeling. Then she’s abandoning all sense of caution, throwing open the door and rushing forward, dispersing into a swarm to cover more ground. Even if she could no longer see the thread in this form, she was certain that she’d know exactly who her soulmate was when she saw them.

And, well, she does. Something calls her to the far corner of the main room, where a body was suspended from the ceiling by its hands. An all-too-familiar needle was sticking out of the person’s arm, leading down to a large glass container, which was slowly filling with blood. The scent made Bela’s nostrils flare, and her eyes go wide, but she did her best to fight against her instincts. Quickly she gets to her knees, examining the jar to see how full it was. Most of the measurement lines were faded, having been worn out over time, making it harder to estimate the volume. In the end, Bela guessed that the container could fit just over six liters inside. Which meant that the person had lost close to… two and a half. That was bad- behind bad, really. Horrible, actually. Immediately life threatening to the point of having been life threatening before Bela had even woken up.

“Don’t die on me, please,” she half cried half shouted, jumping into action as best as she knew how. Not even bothering to turn the nozzle on the device, she pulls the needle out of her soulmate’s arm, cursing when more blood rushes out of the hole. Then she’s applying pressure, hard as she can, beyond glad that they weren’t awake for this. One hand goes to tear a piece of fabric off of their shirt. Hopefully they wouldn’t mind, all things considered. Next, Bela ties the cloth around the collection point, making less of a tourniquet and more of a generic bandage. “Shit, you need a transfusion, don’t you?... Fuck, fuck, what’s your blood type?”

Knowing that she wouldn’t be getting a verbal answer any time soon, Bela settled for dipping a finger into the jar, bringing it to her lips, and licking. The difference in taste among blood types was subtle, but she was nothing if not a professional at this point. Still, the type is not immediately clear to her, and she knows that she might have to go around licking more blood from other prisoners. Unless… could someone receive a transfusion of their own blood? Such a thing had never happened at the castle before, but there was a first time for everything.

“Hold on, I’ll figure this out, somehow, I promise,” Bela said, gently taking her patient’s hand in her own. Taking your hand.

When you wake, you find yourself among the softest sheets you have ever felt, as if laying on clouds themselves. But your vision is blurred, and your head is besieged by waves of pain. A whimper makes its way past your lips. For a moment all you can do is tense up, unsure of any detail of your situation, unable to discern anything around you. Then you feel a hand on your own, squeezing gently. Something about it sends a rush of comfort throughout your entire body. Still, you are more confused than anything, and you find yourself trying to sit up out of instinct.

Without warning the hand lets you go, only for the owner to shift their weight, climbing on top of you in an instant. They’re holding you down, saying words that don’t quite reach your ears. For how light they are, they manage to put an impressive amount of pressure on you, easily rendering you immobile. Unfortunately, this position does little to ease your anxiety. The last thing you could remember was a very, very tall lady sticking a needle in your arm with a cruel laugh. Based on how you felt, there was still a needle in your arm. But you had been standing, or hanging, before, and now you were on your back.

“Whathe… wha the ‘ell… can’t 'hink,” you muttered, stumbling over your own tongue. Whoever sits on top of you tries to comfort you, running a hand through your hair. “Who are you?” You asked, even though you couldn’t understand a word this person said. Their voice might as well have been in another language, with the way your addled brain processed it. Had you lost too much blood? Or maybe you had a concussion? “I just. I just wanted to meet them. Please, I jus… I just wanna see my soulmate.”

Again, you cannot understand what the person says in response, but they finally seem to understand this. One of their hands reaches out and grabs your left one, slowly tapping your fingers, one by one. When they reach your ring finger, they pause, gently holding it. For a few moments you’re left even more confused. Then, with a surge of warmth in your chest, the dots are connected. Whoever is with you quietly grabs the thread attached to your finger, before tugging gently. In order for them to do that… well, there was only one explanation. They were your soulmate. They were the one you had gone to this accursed castle to meet. Somehow they had saved you, and everything was finally looking up.

Mind clearing slowly, you’re finally able to understand something they- or she, as far as you can tell- say.

“Rest now, my beloved. You are safe in my care, this I promise.”

[goldencatchflies]

O Que O Sol Faz Com As Flores

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: Teen and Upper Audiences

Pairings: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, past Elle Greenaway/OFC

Warnings: Angst, mentioned Minor Character Death

Word Count: 972

Summary: It was pretty quiet after that. She cried herself to sleep in the arms of Derek Morgan.

A/N: Again, no beta we die like illiterates! There’s quite some angst in this chapter, but it’s not that bad!

Other Links // Permanent Taglist: @pretty-b0yy, @blakes-dictionxry, @hotchnerslut, @moreidism, @abitcriminalminds, @reese-the-edgy-enby

OQOSFCAF Masterlist + Taglist: @kermitsaysgayrights

Chapter Two: Fantasies and Imperfection

With his head in the clouds, Spencer opened the door carelessly, only to be brought back by the woman standing in front of him.

“Reid?” They heard the voice of a very confused Derek Morgan behind Spencer’s back. “Who is it?”

“Hey Spence... we need to talk!” Speechless, Spencer just moved out of the way and let his former best friend in, and the shock hit Derek all the same as soon as he saw her enter Spencer’s apartment.

“Elle?” Was all Derek could say before he ran towards the woman, embracing her as tight as he could. Her eyes were red and puffy, and there were dried tears all over her face. She had been crying, that much was clear, but what she hadn’t told them is why she’s here-not that she’s had much of a chance.

Derek let go of the woman, the brightest smile plastered on his face, as he turned to look at a very concerned Spencer Reid.

“What are you doing here, and why do you look so... different?” Derek asked. The former FBI Agent was rocking a mullet, her hair dyed a lighter shade of brown, and a white button up with a black dress above to match. She held a plain black suitcase on her right hand, keeping her left on her pocket. Elle Greenaway was back home, safe in their arms, and yet she looked nothing like herself. And she certainly didn’t feel like herself either-at least not the Elle they knew.

“I um... I need your help!” She told them, looking back in Spencer’s direction.

“Yeah, of course! Anything you need!” Derek said, taking her hand in his, and she smiled fondly at him, as a single tear strolled down her face.

“So uh... what-“ Spencer started after they had settled down on the couch, “what have you been up to?” They could all hear the hurt in his voice, but none mentioned it.

“When I left, I knew that Garcia would look for me so... I had to change my appearance, my name- I had to be a whole new person...” the woman extended a hand to Spencer, “hi, I’m Marisol! What’s you name?!” She said with a broken smile.

She lowered her hand right after, and they kept talking about her.

“I moved away. To France...” she nodded, and smiled at the boys. “Yeah, it was... it was nice! I um... I met this... girl...”she swallowed hard, not daring to look at their faces. She continued after she felt Derek's hand on her shoulder- looking up at the agent though, all she saw was love, and she felt accepted.

“Her name was Lucía...” she looked at ground, tears filling her eyes once more. Derek pulled her in for a hug, and she leaned her head on his chest and sobbed softly. “She died a few months after we met...” she choked out in between sobs. Spencer placed his hand on her thigh, and tried comforting her, even though he was clearly hurt by the woman. And they stayed in a comfortable silence until Elle stopped crying.

“She was sick... and slowly... she-“ Elle stopped mid sentence, not having the heart to finish it. “She uh... she had this kid-a little boy,” she smiled, thinking back to old, positive memories “his name was Théodore, and after she... I took him in, took care of him... but- but he-“ she broke down again, and the boys shared a concerned look, before one of them gained courage to ask.

“What happened?” Spencer asked in a soft voice.

“That’s the thing, I- I don’t know! I woke up one day, and he was just... gone!” She told them in between sniffs and broken cries.

“How old was he?” Derek asked.

“Seven...” Derek and Spencer closed their eyes simultaneously, and held back tears. They knew how cases like this usually ended, and this being a personal one it would only make things worse.

“You have to help me find him! Please!” She begged in tears, hiding her face in Derek’s chest, and he just held her as she cried.

It was pretty quiet after that. She cried herself to sleep in the arms of Derek Morgan, and he carried her to Spencer’s bed, letting her rest- she need it. As he went back to the living room, he was met with a pacing Spencer Reid, fidgeting with his hands as he looked aimlessly at the floor-not really paying attention to it given that his head was miles away once more.

“Hey, hey!” Derek rushed next to the boy wonder, taking his moving hands into one of his own, the other cupping his face-making Spencer look at him in the eyes.

“It’s not fair!” Spencer cried out, “she can’t just leave our lives with no warnings- no goodbyes, and come back when she needs help, what about us?! What about what we need?!” He told the older agent as tears strolled down his cheeks, his breath quick and shaky.

“Look at it through her perspective: after... she couldn’t stay on the team-“ Derek tried to comfort Spencer, but he interrupted him.

“But Hotch wouldn’t have done anything! We’re a family, you know him, he wouldn’t hav-“

“Now! He wouldn’t now! But back then... he was tough, and he loosened up because of Elle, and because of what happened with her! She was a lesson she didn’t deserve to be!”

He pulled Spencer in for a hug, and the boy let his head drop on Derek’s shoulder. “And now she lost the only thing close to family she’s had in a long time...” Spencer knew Derek was right- but it hurt too much to admit it. So he didn’t. He stayed quiet, and they just held each other as Spencer cried into the crook of Derek’s neck.

[alittlebitgoofy]

it’s cold when we’re apart (boboxx)

me? posting new boboxx angst? shock ikik, it was a small venty drabble that hit around 1.7k and i wanted to post it 

ao3 link

“I miss you.”

Three simple words were all it took to break Juice’s weak defenses. She hated to admit defeat but being alone was suffocating. Couples fought, it was normal. But what level was too much? She couldn’t pinpoint how it got like this. One day they were happy, brains fogged buy sweet early love, time passed and the things they looked over became more apparent. Juice’s need for affection and comfort, not liking to be alone or not know what was happening. Combined with Scarlett’s refusal to admit she was wrong or short temper it made for a bad combination. 

They worked through it, Juice trying to relax her grip on other people and Scarlett learning to keep their cool. It worked, for a while. But all walls crumbled with time and pressure. Juice hated her natural ability to flirt. She was almost always unaware of how it came off, she just wanted to be nice to people. Scarlett noticed, tensing at the way some people eyed her up. They knew it wasn’t her fault, not something to get angry over. Though the bitter jealousy would only grow if left unchecked. All it took was a girl mistaking Juice for single and flirting, the small girl being kind back and Scarlett was seething. They tried to quell it but only succeeded in making it bubble up more. 

Words hurt, especially from someone you loved. People said things they didn’t mean, although Scarlett lashed out too hard to be excused. They knew how to get under Juice’s skin, what to say to rile her up or upset her, and used it all to their advantage. It took only a few seconds for the regret to sink in. But that was too late. 

“Get out.” The venom in Juice’s tone made Scarlett flinch. She’d never sounded that angry before. It was unnatural, not the girl she knew. But she had crossed a line, the regret wouldn’t do anything to fix it. She did what she got angry at other people for, she hurt Juice. 

“Did I stutter? If you don’t leave I will throw you out. We both know I can lift you.”

“Juice, please. I’m sorry.” it was pointless pleading, knowing Juice wouldn’t care but trying anyway for the hope this could be fixed. Scarlett tried, they meant everything, it was just too late.

“You don’t get to be sorry. Get the fuck out of my house!” The anger was rising, Juice was unrelenting, intensely glaring in a way that scared Scarlett for being four inches shorter. She looked Scarlett up and down as if they were a hardened criminal who just got caught. It was terrifying to see the lack of any warmth in her eye, only cold, hard anger. 

“Juice-”

Before Scarlett could finish, Juice had shoved them out of the door, into the street. She slammed the door not waiting for any more words. 

They’d fucked up. Bad. 

Scarlett refused to believe they’d ever be that person, sending an emotionally charged voicemail begging for some kind of response. Juice hadn’t spoken a word in the two weeks since their argument and every second without her hurt, the memory of hurting her still sinking into their flesh, burning at the thought of how bad they messed up. 

It was bad judgment to text her in the first place, even more so to say they missed her and send a rambling, melancholic voicemail that would only complicate things further. They showed up as read. Juice had seen it, she’d heard it and yet didn’t have a response. It’d been over half an hour since it showed up as read and Scarlett felt the sadness and resignation sink ever deeper. 

A knock brought them out of the spiral, although the idea of having to face someone made their head spin with anxieties. They couldn’t quite cope with other people, not while like this. It was too much vulnerability that they didn’t want to be accountable for. So, just don’t answer it. But it wasn’t that simple. A distraction, however brief, was craved, so Scarlett begrudgingly answered it, not knowing what to expect, shocked at who it was.

“You miss me.” Although her tone was distant, Scarlett saw the familiar softness in Juice’s eyes as they opened the door to see her meek expression. It said more than she was able to. Upon closer inspection, her soft brown eyes were dark with a conflicted sadness, mixed with a loving gaze she couldn’t help whenever Scarlett was around.

“I’m so sorry,” Scarlett whispered brokenly. There was no point holding up any walls, the vulnerability wasn’t always a bad thing and Juice deserved to know how they felt. Scarlett kept their eyes down, not wanting to know how she was reacting to it all.

“I know.” Juice pulled Scarlett into a tight hug, stepping inside the house, nudging the door behind her shut. She felt the taller one tense in her arms before relaxing and pulling her tighter. It all hit after that, all the pent up feelings and sadness at not having each other, the prior rage almost all melted away with the warmth that Scarlett brought. Almost.

“This doesn’t make up for what you said.” Juice broke the moment, not sure how much she should let her guard down. She had every right to be so defensive and yet it still hurt. Scarlett knew better than to argue, their anger had settled into self-loathing long ago, all they could do now is agree and regret everything ever more. 

“I know.” Despite their different perspectives, Scarlett mirroring her words made Juice’s heart clench. They weren’t at all distant, instead, soft and loving but weakened by regret and sorrow. 

Eventually, the long hug ended, neither quite knowing what to do until Scarlett led Juice to the couch, prompting her to put something on so they could spend time together without thinking too hard about it. The air was still tense but Juice appreciated the effort. 

“What about that show you kept asking me to watch?” Scarlett felt their heart warm as Juice’s eyes lit up, cutting through the tension with her excitement. She was adorable when talking about something she liked and this was no exception. She rambled on about how much Scarlett would like the show and how good it was. The glee radiating from her made Scarlett’s face unconsciously break from a frown to a loving smile. Juice paused for a second, realising how much she missed the stupid grin Scarlett would give her if she got excited enough about something, never interrupting her, just appreciating her. 

Juice seemed a lot more relaxed as the show started, eventually shuffling closer to Scarlett, curling into their side as they watched attentively. Juice commentating on everything in a way that would be annoying if anyone else did it, but she made it all the more entertaining with her thoughts. 

“You know, she’s like you, all angry but just soft for one blonde girl,” Juice laughed, gesturing to the screen. Scarlett shot her a confused look which only made her giggle more. 

“Juicy, I see where you’re going but I am not a catgirl.” Juice pouted, Scarlett holding back a laugh at her behaviour. The way they fell back into the soft loving ways made everything feel better. Juice’s laughs were the last thing needed to patch up their heart and they planned on keeping her happy for a lot longer. 

“Wait! She’s gay for the blonde one? Who let this mentally unstable cat drive a tank anyway?” Scarlett watched on incredulously, Juice only laughing at her questions. She was understanding why Juice liked the show so much now, it was cute, even if she compared them to the feral catgirl. It wasn’t that inaccurate although they wouldn’t admit that. 

More episodes played as Juice’s commentary died down, she stayed curled into Scarlett’s side, occasional comments muttered into their shoulder as her head nestled into it. She was half asleep when Scarlett shook her, nudging her towards the bedroom.

“Do you want to stay the night?” Juice gave a soft hum in response, curling closer into the enby. Scarlett laughed softly, picking her up to place her on the bed, knowing her attempts to walk over would end in her sleepily stumbling, tripping over anything in her path. Juice let out a pleased hum when Scarlett threw some old, baggy clothes at her to sleep in. There was something adorable about the way everything they owned was too big on the brunette. Although they weren’t that far apart in height, Juice was tiny and Scarlett preferred baggy clothes. The way the long sleeves of an old band shirt flopped over Juice’s wrists, swallowing most of her body was a sight that Scarlett would treasure. 

The pair settled down, at first facing each other but not touching, both scared to make the first move before Juice felt herself succumbing to the fatigue. She shuffled over, wrapping her small arms around Scarlett, nuzzling her head into their shoulder. 

“I love you,” Juice stifled a yawn as she spoke, the sentiment from earlier still ringing out in Scarlett’s head, however, the fact that Juice was searching for so much affection raised their spirits. “I love you too.” Scarlett smiled, eyes full of love for the smaller girl. Juice lifted her hand, ruffling the short blonde hair of her partner with a mischievous giggle before cuddling as far into them as she could. Not everything was alright or resolved, both knew that. The morning would come and Scarlett would try their best to show Juice their love, peppering her with kisses as she woke up, cooking her breakfast, and showering her with enough affection to make her melt. The last night went unspoken by them, but both knew there were consequences. Juice had her guard up somewhat, naturally lower around Scarlett although still present. It would take time and effort to repair their relationship but Scarlett tried their best to go above and beyond. It wouldn’t be easy but to see Juice smile lovingly at them again would make it all worth it.

[therainroguefanfiction]

✰ A Love So Strong (Denki Kaminari)

Genre: Crack, Fluff, AU, Magic

Word Count: 4,043

Pairing: Reader x Kaminari

World: Boku no Hero Academia

Author’s Note: This fic is just, uhhhh… a clusterfuck of fuckery. Yeah, that’s it xD I wrote this for a dear friend, @smol-enby​ , as a thank you for the Yaku fic they wrote for me, which you can find here – go read it because it’s amazing and it’s about Yaku buying Y/N their own fucking Taco Bell, enough said. Special shoutout to @euphylli​ for beta-reading this trainwreck and to @miniiqui for being a willing member of the cult of rain and resident drink-bringer in this fic lol

And yes, I put myself in the roll of goddess of rain, you wanna fight about it?!?! (it’s a running gag in our discord server okay don’t feckin’ judge me)

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Your eyes slowly fluttered open, staring up at the dark ceiling above you, shadows dancing under the light of the fireplace. Try as you might, you couldn’t seem to recall where you were or how you had gotten there – or why you were currently lying on the floor. You pushed yourself into a sitting position, feeling the warmth of the faux bear rug beneath your fingers.

To the right sits a large fireplace, the flames crackling as they ate away at the logs fueling them, mingling with the soft pitter-patter of rain against the roof. Two plush chairs sat across from one another, slightly angled toward the fire. And that’s when you realized that the chair on the right was currently occupied.

With a gulp, you scrambled to your feet, searching for anything you could use as a makeshift weapon, but the only thing you found was a small plush of a kawaii taco sitting on the table behind you. The movement caught the person’s attention and they slowly turned toward you, green eyes illuminated by the dancing flames.

“Ah, you’re finally awake.” The voice belonged to a female, reminding you of a rainy day in Autumn. It was quite calming, but you still kept your guard up as she stood, their plump body outlined in shadow.

You squinted, but were unable to make out of their features. It was as if they were made of shadow like the criminals from Case Closed, a simple black nothingness to prevent giving away their identity. When they stepped around the chair, moving ever so closer, you took a step back, butt bumping against the table as you grabbed for the taco, squeezing it tightly within your hand.

“Stay back!” You ordered with a shaky voice.

The woman halted, tilting her head to the side. “Fear not, my dear mortal, for no harm shall befall you here.”

“Who are you?” You demanded, surprised by your ability to keep your voice level as you held the taco out in front of you. “Where am I?”

She smiled – a lazy, content smile. “I am the goddess of rain and you, my dear, are within my realm. The realm of rain.” With a simple flick of her wrist, the soft pitter-patter suddenly became a violent downpour, pounding on the roof like a stampede of animals.

Your eyes widened, the taco falling from your grasp and bouncing once before coming to a stop beside the rug, its kawaii face flat against the wooden floor. Surely this was just a dream… right? Gods and goddesses weren’t real and… an entire realm dedicated to rain? It seemed like such a silly idea, cooked up by a madman or someone in a food-induced dreamstate. Yes, you were most definitely dreaming.

The woman seemed to send your thoughts, holding her arm out toward the two chairs behind her. “You cannot be harmed within dreams, so, won’t you indulge an old woman’s request and join me for a fairy tale on a rainy day?”

You hesitated but, determined to prove to yourself that this was, in fact, just a dream, you squared your shoulders and approached the chair on the left, keeping your eyes on the woman and making sure you didn’t expose your back to her as you fell into the chair. It wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as you had expected it to be by judging from its aged appearance.

With a contented hum, the woman reclaimed her seat on the right, the fire dancing within her eyes. “Before we begin, would you care of a snack? Some Dr Pepper, perhaps?”

“Uhh… how about some apple juice?”

“But of course.” She snapped her fingers and a beautiful young girl materialized behind the two of you. “Qui, be a dear and fetch our guest some apple juice, won’t you?”

The girl giggled, showing off her sharp fangs. “Of course, mother! Back in a flash~” And in a puff of white smoke, she was gone as quickly as she had come.

“You have… children?” Your brow furrowed at the spot the girl had just been. ‘This is just getting weirder and weirder. I really need to stop eating before bed.’

“Yes, well… all those that pledge their loyalty to me by joining the cult of rain are considered my children.”

“You have a cult?” You cried in disbelief, feeling yourself shrink back as your mind brought fourth various bad images about cults you had seen in real life in movies and on TV. Your head was seriously beginning to hurt.

“But of course, I -” A muffled explosion made the house tremble and you jumped in surprise, heart racing as the woman merely heaved a heavy sigh, bringing her hand to her face and mumbling under her breath. “Honestly, Qui said she was going to work with him about getting that temper of his under control.”

Qui suddenly reappeared, soot staining her clothes and skin but the smile upon her lips was even brighter than it had been before. She bounced over to you, leaning down as she held the tray out to you. “There may be a bit of soot in your drink but don’t worry, it just adds to the taste!”

You sweatdropped, picking up the cup of apple juice with a shaking hand. “Y-Yeah… thanks.

She twirled on her heel, offering the tray to the woman, who picked up the second cup with a smile. “I protected your drink, mother! I know you don’t like caramel flavored Dr Pepper!” She giggled, holding the now empty tray behind her back. “I’ll be going now, I hope you decide to join us. It’s really lovely here~” With a wink, the girl vanished into smoke once again.

“Yes,” the woman sipped her soda from the tea cup with a content hum. “Would you be interested in joining the cult?”

Of course you weren’t. Who in their right mind would want to join a cult? It seemed highly suspicious and you had clearly been singled out. With a frown, you inquired, “Why me? What makes me so special that I deserve to join your… family?”

“Is it not obvious?” She questioned with surprise.

You shook your head no.

“Every one of my children have one thing in common.” She said simply, offering you a closed-eye smile. “Each of them are absolutely beautiful inside and out. Though they may be mortals, they are each a god or goddess in their own right and have earned not only my respect, but my adoration, as well. When you think of them as a mere cult, you may think they are simply part of the hive-mind, following blindly, but they all chose to be here. I do not hold them here against their will, though I do offer them what they most want.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You wondered, more to yourself than to her. It sounded way too good to be true and life had taught you many times that if it seems too good to be true, it most likely is.

“Every member is granted one thing upon their entrance into the cult of rain.”

“One thing? Like what?”

“Whatever your heart desires.”

You scoffed at the idea, your mind immediately thinking of him, but you knew that was impossible. Even so, you jokingly asked, “Even bring an anime character to life?”

“That’s right.”

“Yeah, I though -” your eyes widened as her words sunk in. “Wait, what?”

She sent you an amused look as she sipped her drink. “You heard me correctly. There’s a surprising number of members that have requested the very same thing! Why, young Qui that was just here – upon my offer to join, she wished for a character named Bakugo. He was the cause of that explosion just a moment ago. He’s quite a handful, but he is such a good cook.”

“B-Bakugo?!” You nearly spilled the drink as you leaned forward. “From Boku no Hero Academia?!”

“Oh, you know it? I shouldn’t be surprised, it’s quite popular these days, isn’t it?” She hummed, her green eyes lifting to the ceiling as she recalled the various requests she had gotten from her members. Several of them had been from that very series.

You swallowed hard, scooting to the edge of your seat as you released a shaky breath. “So… if I join this… this cult of yours… you can make Denki real?”

“Kaminari, hmm?” Her eyes sparkled with interest as they fell upon you. “A fair choice. He’s quite handsome! Tell me, is this your desire? What you truly want?”

You didn’t hesitate, nodding your head frantically. “Yes! I’ll do anything to make him real.”

She chuckled, setting her cup down on the small table beside her. “Tell me, dear Y/N, will you accept the cult into your heart and devote yourself to the realm of rain?”

“Yes!”

She leaned back in her chair as a black cat jumped from the second floor, landing right on her lap. His golden eyes looked at you for a moment before he settled across her thighs, purring in content as he started to fall asleep. Her hand gently rested on his back, rubbing across his silky fur.

There was something oddly familiar about that cat, but you couldn’t quite place it. Was it the golden eyes? The spiky tuft of fur that hung over his right eye? Or something else entirely?

“Sit back and relax, dear Y/N, and allow me to tell you a tale. I think you might enjoy it.” Her green eyes sparkled with something you couldn’t place, but you did as she commanded.

Setting the cup on the round table beside your chair, you slid backward until you were flat against the soft back of the chair. Your heart was racing within your chest, head full of only thoughts about Denki.

The woman lifted her right hand, palm toward the ceiling, and a small green-blue orb started to materialize, hovering above her skin. It glittered under the firelight, seeming so magical to you. You couldn’t look away, as if your eyes were permanently glued to the object. She smiled, flexing her fingers as the ball started to expand, growing larger and brighter until it started to encompass the whole room.

Your head started to feel hazy, eyes heavy as they started to slide closed. It felt as if you were slipping into a dream and no matter how hard you fought, you couldn’t stop the darkness that was beginning to creep into your mind. The last thing you saw was the woman’s closed-eye smile before the darkness overtook you.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

The smell of chicken nuggets tickled your nostrils, rousing you from sleep. You blinked a couple of times to clear your vision, slowing sitting up on the queen-sized bed. While you didn’t exactly remember your dream, you remembered it being very… strange. And the more you tried to recall it, the more your head hurt.

Shaking your head to rid the last bit of sleepy fog from your brain, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, your feet falling against the plush white carpet that covered the bedroom floor. The smell lead you through the house toward the kitchen and you peaked around the corner, curious about the loud clanging that was being made inside.

Denki hummed loudly as he stood in front of the sink, washing the leftover dishes from the night before. The microwave was also humming as it heated up a plate full of chicken nuggets because the blonde was incapable of using a stove without the risk of burning the house to the ground.

You had been dating Kaminari for several months now but… every single time you looked upon him, you were filled with such a strong sense of happiness that it made you want to cry. It was like there was some magical spell over him that directly effected your emotions. You didn’t understand it but you really didn’t want to. He made you happy, and that was more than enough.

With a warm smile, you stepped up behind him, arms sliding around his slim waist. “Good morning, Denki.”

His mood instantly perked up upon hearing your voice and feeling your body against his. He shut off the water and turned around so he could bring you into a bear hug, threatening to lift you off of your feet. “Morning, Y/N! Did you sleep well?”

You thought back to the strange dream, but you still saw it through a blur as if you were wearing an older person’s prescription glasses. Shaking your head, you offered him a smile, your hands rubbing against his back. “I slept well, I always do when I’m in your arms~”

His cheeks darkened at your flirty tone, a goofy grin coming to his lips as he buried his face in your neck. “You always tease me, Y/N, it’s not fair~”

With a chuckle, you pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “You make it too easy, babe.”

The hum of the microwave died as it started to beep loudly, making him pull away from you and bound over to it. “Breakfast is ready!”

“Denki, wait -” But you were too late.

He thrust his bare hand into the microwave and grabbed the plate, only to yelp as the heated ceramic burnt his hand. He dropped it as a surge of painful heat crawled across his flesh, the plate clanking as it fell back to the circular glass. You cursed, rushing into action as you took his wrist in your hand, tugging him back over to the sink and running his reddening skin under the cold water.

“You should be more careful,” you scolded lightly, your finger ghosting over the red skin of his fingers. “It doesn’t seem to be too bad, but I’ll put burn creme on it just to be safe. Keep your hand under the water.”

With a pout, he nodded his head, golden eyes following you as you exited the kitchen to find the burn creme that was located in the bathroom cabinet. Upon returning, you gently pulled his hand from under the water, patting it dry with a paper towel before applying the creme to the reddened areas. He winced in pain, bottom lip jutting out farther.

You honestly felt bad that he had gotten hurt, but he was just so damn cute when he was pouting like that. You couldn’t help but reach forward, capturing his bottom lip between yours. He responded instantly, grabbing at the back of your neck with his uninjured hand, groaning against your lips.

When you tried to pull away, his grip tightened and he leaned forward, not yet wanting the kiss to end. “The food is going to be cold,” you commented against his lips, nibbling at his lower lip, so plump and soft.

“Don’t care, just want you,” he mumbled back. At that moment, his stomach started growling loudly, resembling a bear growling within a large cave.

You giggled at the red spreading across his cheeks. “You may not care, but your stomach does.”

“Fine~”

You grabbed a kitchen towel and carefully pulled the plate from the microwave, setting it onto the kitchen table. “Which condiment do you want, babe?”

He tapped his chin in thought. “I’m feeling like a ketchupie mood.”

“That’s not a word,” you chuckled, grabbing the bottle of ketchup from the fridge before returning to the table.

Denki huffed as he sat down across from you. “It could be in another language!”

You highly doubted that, but you decided to keep that comment to yourself. “I was thinking, why don’t we go on a date tonight?”

He instantly perked up at the thought, nearly dropping the chicken nugget he had picked up. “Yes! You should let me plan it, though.”

“I… are you sure you want to?” You didn’t want to be mean, but the last time he had planned a date for the two of you, he had somehow managed to short circuit the entire mall, thus getting you both banned from life. And it was the only place that housed your favorite pasta restaurant!

“You don’t think I can?” He frowned, nudging the nugget into the ketchup like a sad child. “This is because of the mall incident isn’t it? You destroy the power to a mall one time, I swear -”

“I trust you,” you announced firmly. “Whatever you plan, I’m sure I’ll love it.” And you truly meant it because you knew whatever he planned, even if it ended in disaster, would come from his heart. He would plan it hoping to make you happy, and that’s what warmed your heart the most.

“Great, I’ll get to planning!” He grinned, hopping out of his chair only to pause, grabbing another chicken nugget and shoving it into his mouth before heading further into the house.

You chuckled, cleaning up the mess that had been left behind. It was a nice day outside, so you decided to head into the backyard and check on your children – four little bees that had been named Bob, Moth, Laura, and Fuck. Though the names were quite unusual, they had been chosen by your closest friends so, of course, you had to keep them.

The bees were part of your little family and they loved you dearly as if you were the queen of their hive because, in a way, you kind of were. You smiled as Fuck landed on your finger, its leg tapping against you as if to say, ‘I love you.’

With a smile, you gently ran your index finger along the length of its body, watching as its wings started to flap and it took to the sky, returning to its siblings.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

“Is the blindfold really necessary, Denki?” You complained, not liking the fact that you couldn’t see where you were walking. What if a piece of concrete was sticking up? You wouldn’t be able to see it. What if a stray cat suddenly decided to run through your legs as you went to take a step forward? You wouldn’t be able to see it. What if –

Denki’s hand gently squeezed your own, his voice soft. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you, Y/N.”

Your heart leaped at the words, giving him a nod that you weren’t sure he could see as you chewed on your bottom lip. Night had fallen, offering a cool breeze as the two of you walked down sidewalk away from the city. Though it caused you to take longer to reach the destination, he was meticulous about warning you of any cracks in the pavement and stopping to kick rocks or twigs out of the way so you wouldn’t step on them. The sounds of the city started to fade the further you guys got and you could hear the chirping of cicadas getting louder the further you got into the countryside.

“Okay. I’m going to remove the blindfold.” He released your hand and you could feel him reach behind you to untie the cloth from your head. It fell away and you slowly opened your eyes, which widened at the sight before you.

The two of you were standing in a field outside the city, far away from the bright lights and sounds. The night sky was clearly visible above the trees, a rich navy littered with bright stars that were scattered like spilled glitter. Sitting atop the soft grass was a red and white flannel blanket with a wooden picnic basket. Candles were set up at each corner of the blanket, flickering softly in the breeze.

Denki chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched your expression carefully. Your eyes were shining under the starlight, a smile lighting up your face. To him, you had always been the most beautiful person in the world, but somehow, under the nature-made light of the stars, you looked so much like a goddess. He couldn’t believe how lucky he had gotten that you fell for him. “Do you… do you like it?”

“I love it!” You snapped out of your daze, throwing your arms around his neck. “It’s so incredible, Denki. Thank you so much.”

His mood brightened at your praise. “Of course! I even made us some sandwiches.” His hand slid down to yours, gently tugging you over to the blanket. The grass was soft beneath the blanket, as if you were sitting on a bed of pure cotton and, while he had added far too much honey mustard to the turkey sandwich, it still tasted amazing because it was made by him.

You glanced at the blonde as he chewed on his sandwich, eyes trained on the sky. He was unbelievably attractive and, while he had moments of unbelievable stupidity, as well, he was such a loving boyfriend. You loved him with every fiber of your being and you knew he felt the exact same way about you. Was this what it felt like to find your soulmate? You didn’t know, but you were sure that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with this man.

He noticed you staring and blinked, tilting his head to the side. “Is there something on my face?”

You shook your head, feeling a bit embarrassed that he had caught you staring at him. “No, sorry.” Your eyes slipped up to the sky, widening as you noticed something quite familiar that you had studied a couple years ago. “Oh, Denki, look! It’s Orion’s Belt!”

Denki’s eyes moved to where you were pointing, but he only saw a jumble of stars. Was it supposed to look like an actual belt? He tilted his head this way and that, but he still couldn’t see it.

“Did you know that the three stars across the middle of the constellation are also the placement points of the Three Pyramids of Giza in Egypt?” Your finger traced across the three, a bright smile coming to your lips as you continued. “If you were to draw a line straight up from of those pyramids, you’d land perfectly on each star of the belt if you’re looking at them projected on the celestial sphere!”

His brow furrowed as he tried to keep up with the words leaving your lips a bit faster than normal to mirror your excitement of the topic. If he were to be honest, he didn’t have a clue what the hell you were saying to him, but he didn’t have the heart to tell you that because of how happy you looked as you continued to talk about the stars. Not only that, he really didn’t want to make himself look stupid. So when you glanced at him, he just smiled and nodded as if he wasn’t completely lost.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

The goddess of rain smiled down at the crystal ball floating before her, the image of Y/N and Denki enjoying their picnic filling the orb. “Hmm, it seems that he was perfect for them after all. Perhaps it was fate that led them to me, though I do loathe giving fate that kind of credit.”

Qui giggled from behind her mother, standing on her tiptoes so she could view the orb. “They’re super cute together and now I’ve got another sibling!”

The goddess chuckled, waving her hand across the orb. It shattered, lightly raining down to the floor before disappearing. “Yes, it seems our family is growing quite strong as of late.”

A sudden explosion rocked the home.

Her eyes landed on Qui with an exasperated sigh and the younger girl giggled, rubbing the back of her head. “I’ll just… go calm him down before he blows up the kitchen.”

“Yes, please do so.”

With a grin, the young girl vanished into a cloud of smoke.

The goddess returned to the fireplace, picking up the black cat and holding him protectively to her chest as she claimed her seat. Her fingers lightly scratched his ears, making the cat pur in content. “Our family is growing steadily, Kuroo. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Kuroo’s golden eyes met hers and he released a mreow of approval, his tail swishing back and forth.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

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[iximaz]

Blood-Forged

Summary: Din takes his young charge to a new planet with a new plan to hide. It quickly goes sideways after he meets another Mandalorian who has never seen her own kind.

Characters: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin), Baby Yoda, enby!fem!OC

Pairings: Slow burn Din Djarin/OC because it turns out I’m a thirsty hoe

Warnings: Eh, right now it’s just in light PG-13 territory. Mentions of family death, some blood/violence/bodily harm. Will probably end up becoming smut later.

Word Count: 2428 (indefinite chapter count coming)

Part 1 (you’re here!) Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

The Outer Rim had been a bust. The solitude never seemed to work; in fact, it just seemed to make things worse. Word traveled fast, as he liked to say, and a Mandalorian traveling with a strange alien child stood out in the small communities they’d visited like a pair of sore thumbs.

Maybe it was time to go back to the Core Worlds. More eyes was a risky prospect, but bounty hunters didn’t tend to operate in New Republic territory since criminals preferred to hide out in places nobody else wanted to go. And the more populated an area, the less people tended to pay attention to strangers.

Din sighed as he closed down the galaxy map, turning to the kid sitting in his makeshift basket seat. “What do you think, then?” he said, and the kid’s ears perked up at the sound of his voice. “Coruscant?”

The child cooed, tiny green hands wrapping around the rim of the basket.

“Great,” Din said, and pushed the throttle forward to jump into hyperspace. “Glad we agree.”

He would put the kid down for a nap when they landed. Find somewhere to put the Razorcrest up at a storage hangar, rent a flat somewhere nobody’d look twice at him, and then find a way to smuggle the kid in. He’d already gone through plans A, B, C, D, and E. Plan F couldn’t go much worse than the others, at any rate.

He didn’t like the idea of needing to confine the kid to an apartment. Sorgan would have been perfect—open space, other children to play with—but he was never going to be able to stop running. Not until everyone with a tracking fob was dead.

Coruscant would be a temporary stop, but it would give them both a chance to catch their breath while he planned their next move.

He’d have to track down where the clan had gone to set up their new home, too. It had been too long since he’d touched base with them.

The baby cooed again and clapped his hands when they jumped out of hyperspace to see the glittering lights of the great city-planet before them.

“Yeah,” Din said, glad that his smile was hidden behind his helmet. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

The kid nodded and crawled out of his seat, little legs wiggling before he dropped to the floor to toddle over to Din. He held his arms out and whined.

Din sighed and picked the kid up, setting him down on his lap and gently knuckling the top of his head before refocusing his attention on the landing.

He got confirmation to land at a shuttleport just on the border where the wealthy part of the city met poorer, and he piloted the Razorcrest down, pausing only to lightly swat the kid’s grasping hand away from a lever. “Not now,” he said, and the child’s ears drooped.

As soon as they landed, though, he unscrewed the top of the lever and handed it over. The baby giggled, turning it over in his three-fingered hands as Din picked him up and carried him down to the cabin.

“Alright, stay here. I mean it this time,” Din said, setting the kid down on the bunk. “You can play with that until I get back. It’s a big city out there—if you follow me, you’ll get lost. Understand?”

The baby stared up at him, eyes wide and ears wiggling curiously.

Din sighed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t know why I still try,” he muttered, and shut the door before that innocent face made him change his mind.

The pulse rifle would attract too much attention in the city, sadly, so he left it on the ship and headed out armed with his blaster and a few explosives for good measure. He tossed a full credit chip at the hangar attendant, followed with a stern order to not let anyone near his ship, and left the hangar.

The smell of rubbish, piss, frying food, and burning fuel hit his nose as soon as he stepped outside, strong despite the filters in his helmet. He breathed in appreciatively; it had been a while since he’d been in a big city, even longer since he’d last visited Coruscant.

He’d checked and double-checked before settling on the planet that he wasn’t on the New Republic’s most wanted list, just in case he hadn’t properly wiped the cameras from the prison ship. He wasn’t one to make mistakes (not like that, at least), but he was still paranoid of what might happen the one time he’d finally slip up.

People gave him sidelong glances as he pressed through the crowd, a few going out of their way to give him a wide berth when they noticed the distinctive Mandalorian armor. But nobody commented—or stopped him—and unless they were very, very good, he was sure nobody was following him, either. So far, so good.

A distinctive silhouette caught his eye and he froze, the crowd continuing to flow around him as he stood on tiptoe to try and get a better look. The figure wasn’t much shorter than him from what he could tell at this distance, and was clad in an ill-fitting suit of green-painted Mandalorian light armor.

Din felt rage pool in his stomach, and he forced himself to move. Suits were made to fit to the wearer—one that didn’t was a guaranteed sign it had been stolen.

Easy, Din, he told himself. Use that anger for something productive, but don’t do anything stupid.

He set off after the figure, maneuvering through the crowd until he was almost parallel to them, trailing just behind so he wouldn’t be spotted. A boy, he guessed, maybe a young teenager judging by his stature and the way the breastplate (forged for a woman) gapped on his chest. Which just raised some more questions as to how a kid could have stolen a Mandalorian’s armor.

Then again, might not be a kid. Could be another alien. Or could’ve just looted it off a corpse he’d come across. It wasn’t much better of a prospect, not paying the dead their respects. Judging by the scorch marks on the edge of the bottom back plates, he would guess the latter; it looked like the fatal shot had struck the suit’s last owner just below the covered area, directly in the spine.

Din followed the boy into a bar, face contorting behind the visor when the boy sat at a table and pulled his helmet off. Messy brown hair, brilliant green eyes, a heavy burn scar covering part of his young face. Human, or at least near enough. He was engrossed with something on the datapad built into his armguard, which looked uncomfortably tight on him.

No Mandalorian would ever willingly remove their helmet.

Din stopped by the table. “Nice suit.” He kept his voice level despite the building anger.

The boy looked up and his face broke into a delighted smile a split second before Din’s fist connected with his nose with a loud CRACK.

The yell of pain that followed was definitely feminine, and the woman lashed out, foot slamming into Din’s knee. He grunted and dived on her, driving into the unarmored parts of her body.

She was pinned under his weight, but managed to get a hand into the gaiter on her calf, where she grasped the hilt of a vibro-knife and slashed at the gap between his helmet and shoulderpad. He twisted and the blade skidded off the beskar, throwing up a shower of sparks. She readjusted her grip and brought it back in a reverse swing, the pommel slamming into his helmet. The CLANG resonated over the bar conversation.

Several patrons looked up briefly out of curiosity. Most went back to their drinks. The ones that didn’t looked like they were watching little more than a mildly interesting street performance.

“How dare you?” Din said in Mando’a, swatting the knife out of her hand. “That armor belongs to Mandalore!”

“W-wait!” she cried in the same language, and he managed to stop his next blow, visibly startled. “Please, I am from the Mandalore—parents of mine am from planet and I am from planet too!”

Her Mando’a was broken and halting, but recognizable. Painfully familiar. And certainly not anything he’d expected to hear from anyone outside his tribe.

“Please, I get up now?” she asked, stuttering as she felt his piercing gaze despite the visor. Her lip was split, blood trickling down her face from her nose and the corner of her mouth.

Din closed his eyes briefly before he stood up, picking up her knife with one hand and holding the other out to her. “You speak Basic?”

She nodded as he pulled her to her feet; her gloves were fingerless, and she used a thumb to wipe the blood off her face before sticking it in her mouth. “Doesn’t everyone?” she said, wiping the thumb off on her flight suit. “What the hell was that about?”

Din hesitated, then glanced at the bar. “Buy you a drink?”

“Least you can do after that,” she muttered.

They ended up at a booth near the back; Din, of course, ordered nothing for himself, but his new acquaintance now had her hands wrapped around a flagon of darkoma.

“Where did you get that armor?” Din asked after she’d had a sip.

She grimaced at the sting of alcohol on her cut lip. “It belonged to my mother,” she finally said.

“You said your parents were Mandalorians?”

She nodded. Her fingers curled on the flagon, knuckles going white. “They were killed when I was small,” she said. “Along with the rest of my tribe.”

Din tilted his head. “You survived.”

“Nearly didn’t.” She looked away. “I’m Aysa,” she said after a moment, looking back at him. “From… what used to be Clan Kelborn. You?”

He blinked at her, not that she could see it. “Everyone calls me Mandalorian.” Odd, that she felt comfortable sharing that readily.

“Well, that’s not going to work, there’s two of us now,” Aysa said. “I can’t just call you Punchy, either.”

His grimace was hidden, but at least his voice was apologetic to match. “I’m sorry. I jumped to conclusions.”

“Why?” Aysa leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

His head turned so he could look pointedly at her helmet, sitting on the table beside her.

“Oh, come off it,” Aysa said, following his gaze. “You hit me because you didn’t like my helmet?”

“You took it off,” Din said. “That is not the Way.”

Aysa’s frown deepened. “The hell do you mean?”

“No Mandalorian can show his face,” Din said. “To take the helmet off in front of others—you can never put it back on again.”

Aysa stared at him for a long minute before she laughed, and took a large gulp from her tankard. “Okay, but seriously. You nearly broke my nose, least you can do is give me a straight answer—“

“How old were you when they died?” Din asked suddenly. He noticed her flinch at the question and he grimaced again.

“Old enough to remember their faces.”

Din’s eyebrows flew up at that. He leaned forward. “Your tribe sounds like it was very different from mine.”

Aysa looked back up at him. “You really mean you never take that off?”

“Of course.” Din paused; he was having maybe a little too much fun messing with her, now that she was established as aliit. Aliit from a strange tribe, but aliit nonetheless. He gave her a few seconds to look incredulous before he grinned, smile audible in his voice. “I take it off in private.”

“Must make eating a pain,” Aysa remarked.

“This is the Way,” Din said, and shrugged.

Aysa shook her head and took another drink. “Not the Way I remember,” she said. “That was just… clan and family, and family and clan. Honor in battle and justice.” Her face hardened. “There was no honor in how their killers fought. No justice for the dead.”

“Are you really the last one?”

Aysa nodded; Din was glad his mask hid his disappointment. More Mandalorians would have been wonderful to bring into the fold.

“I thought… well, for a while, I thought I was the last one left at all,” Aysa admitted. She drained her drink and set the flagon down, chewing her lip as she spun the empty flagon between her hands on the tabletop. “It’s not… not just you, is it?”

Din glanced around; though nobody seemed to be paying attention, he didn’t want to give too much away. “There are others,” he finally said, and Aysa pressed her hands to her mouth, eyes shining.

“What happened to the rest?” she whispered through her fingers. “Everyone I’ve met has thought Mandalore was wiped out.”

Din stood and scooped up her helmet, lightly tossing it to her.  She caught it and hurried to follow him as he strode to the door. “I’ll explain on my ship,” he said. “I have bacta pads if you need them. It’s private there.”

Aysa jammed the helmet onto her head—it was barely large enough to fit, Din noted when he glanced behind him. She was nearly as tall as he was; her mother must have been a small woman. That armor couldn’t be comfortable for her to wear.

“You’ve got your own ship?” Aysa asked eagerly as she followed.

Din nodded.

“Never owned my own ship before,” Aysa said, a hint of awe in her voice. “I’ve just been getting around hitchhiking. Or I get hired to act as a guard for people—they give transport well enough.”

She was very chatty, Din decided as he led her back to the hangar. She rambled as they walked, going on a tangent that started on a job she’d once done for a wealthy merchant, that meandered into an anecdote about the time she’d first tried eating Fodu, to a side note about how an underground trade war was driving the prices up, which launched her into musing aloud about whether or not literal underground cartels existed— “Cartels with their bases actually dug out of tunnels and things, you know? Oh, hell—” She broke off, and Din could just picture her face reddening under her helmet. “I’m sorry, I’ve never met another Mandalorian before. I’m a bit excited. And nervous.”

“I can tell.”

“I’m just going to shut up now.”

Finally, Din wanted to say, but settled for a quiet sigh instead.

[goldencatchflies]

O Que O Sol Faz Com As Flores

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: Teen and Upper Audiences

Word Count: 910

Warnings: Major Angst, Horror

Pairings: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, past Elle Greenaway/OFC

Summary: She looked around, trying to find the source of her unwanted feelings, finding a certain pull towards the door. Run was all she could think, but her feet were sent in place, and she was frozen. She couldn’t move, couldn’t get out of this agonizing situation, barely able to breath. And as the door swung open, she fell lifelessly on the floor. As her body hit the wooden tiles her eyes snapped open.

A/N: No beta we die like illiterates. I was in a THOBM mood, so this chapter might be a little weird... (also, if you like, please reblog 🥺)

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Chapter Three: Don’t Forget To Tell Them; I Was The Warmest Place On Earth; And You Left Me Freezing

The next morning was... warm. Elle woke up to a nice, soft beat, playing outside the bedroom door. She was a little confused at first, but she opened it to find Derek dancing with Spencer. He twirled the boy around, and they giggled like little kids. It was the purest thing the woman had ever seen, but it all came crumbling down, when she felt a weirdly familiar presence surrounding her.

Guilt... Shame... Fear.

She looked around, trying to find the source of her unwanted feelings, finding a certain pull towards the door. Run was all she could think, but her feet were sent in place, and she was frozen. She couldn’t move, couldn’t get out of this agonizing situation, barely able to breath. And as the door swung open, she fell lifelessly on the floor. As her body hit the wooden tiles her eyes snapped open.

It was just a dream, she told herself. “You’re ok, it was just a bad dream!” She whispered under her breath, getting out of bed, not missing the tics on the clock informing her of the time. 5:27 am.

She walked out of Spencer’s room to find the boy sleeping on the couch, holding onto a pillow for dear life as a blanket was poorly draped across his legs. She adjusted the fabric so it covered Spencer’s entire body. She removed his hair from where it was spread all over his forehead, and tucked it neatly behind his year instead.

She pressed her lips to his forehead and held it there for a few seconds. She pulled away from the kiss moments later, holding back tears- not paying attention to the man sleeping in front of her, but the boy she lost.

“I’m so sorry!” She broke down, “I’m sorry baby, we will find you, ok?! We’ll save you! I’ll save you!” Her mind no longer seeing Spencer, she looked at Théodore like he meant the whole world to her- because he did. “I’ll bring you home, Theo, I promise! Just hand in there baby, I’m coming to get you!” She pressed her forehead to his for a moment, letting tears stream down her face, before getting back up and moving towards the kitchen.

She got herself a glass of water, and sat on the counter next to the sink. There was a faint banging sound coming from the door that was getting louder and louder by the second. At some point it got so loud, she wondered how Spencer hadn’t woken up with it yet, but as she moved to open the door, it suddenly stopped. She stared at it for a minute, confused, and opened it just in case. However, she was met with an old flickering light at the end of the empty hallway, and nothing more. She sighed before closing the door, and as she turned back around, a dark figure stood behind her, and she froze once more.

The same old feelings form her nightmare came rushing back- the guilt, shame and fear -becoming all too familiar, housing themselves on an empty body, making friends with the walls on the inside, all while terrorizing her on the outside. Her body shaking in agony, as she stared at the human-like figure that had been haunting her for years. The glass of water slowly slipping out of her hand, shattering as it hit the floor-spreading the liquid all over- and she not able to move a muscle-not able to do anything but stare into the emptiness of the creature that drowned her of the feelings she longed for the most.

Spencer woke up startled to the sound of glass shattering, and when he looked at the source of the noise, she saw Elle staring straight ahead, body shaking, the mortal terror present in her eyes. He got up quickly, and ran to her, taking her shaking hands into his own, and talking her back into reality.

“Hey! Elle! I’m right here! Elle, look at me! Look at me!” He told her but the dark abyss in her eyes made him realize she was millions of miles away, tucked away in the horrors of her own head. He guided her around the broken glass, and sat her down on the couch, her steps so slow she didn’t even realize she was taking them until her body hit the sofa and she was slowly brought back down to earth.

She closed her eyes and cover her face with her hands, and they sat in a comfortable silence until she was able to explain to Spencer what had just happened.

“It started years ago- the night I-” she cut herself off before continuing. “A few days after I shot William Lee...” she sighed, and Spencer listened attentively. “It happened occasionally, but it got worse when Lucía passed...” Spencer put his hand on her shoulder-calming down her still shaking body.

“What did you see” he asked softly.

“I- I don’t... I’m not sure... it looks human but... it has this- this darkness to it that’s too inhumane. I just feel so... alone...” she started sobbing, “when it’s back, and I-“ she sniffed, and Spencer pulled her in for a hug.

Sure, there are many reasons to be mad at her, but when you see it from her perspective... being haunted by a ghost from your past is the last burden you want to bring to your family. And maybe leaving was the best thing she could’ve done.