#THE FANFIC ISN'T DEAD

[wheredidalltheusersgo]

The Stranded and The Scaly.

Chapter 13: The Wolves.

Day 8

Chapter warning: Gore descriptions, violence, Body horror?

------

The gopher had finished eating, but now Geoff needed to find something to munch on before he got hangry. He wasn't a nice guy when he was hangry.

He turned and began his walk to the shore; fishing would be an easy way to get the food he needed. After his mutation, it almost felt like an instinct.

However, his thoughts drifted to Ezekiel. He had been gone for most of the day, and the sun was starting to set now, painting the sky with gorgeous hues of pink, orange, and yellow. If only Zeke was here to see it! Geoff hoped his little buddy wasn't too upset about his disappearance-- all he wanted to do was explore the cave! He didn't know he'd get caught up in a crazy cave-in!

As he walked, he thought it was weirdly quiet.... and lonely. He'd been walking for a little less than 10 minutes now, maybe he could take a break to snuggle with his little gopher? Geoff stopped and looked around, the gopher was nowhere to be seen. The gopher was gone. A spike of fear shot up his spine, and stress began to creep through his mind. That little guy was alone in this forest of mutant freaks, and it was peak prey.

Weak and defenseless.

Geoff turned and took off the running through the forest. He kept his eyes peeled for any sight of that chubby, pink beast.

He couldn't believe he just left it behind, what was he thinking?! God, he was so fucking stupid sometimes! Of course the gopher wouldn't follow him when he walked away. It was blind, for crying out loud!

Geoff ran as fast as his long legs could take him, taking note of any tree, shrub, or rock the gopher could be hiding behind.

He'd never forgive himself if that ugly little cutie was dead because of HIM.

A raspy howl could be heard echoing throughout the forest. Geoff ran faster.

As he crashed through a clearing, he was met with a sight that turned the blood in his veins to ice.

There was a pack of grotesque, mutant wolves.

And they were feasting on a mutant gopher carcass.

The freezing feeling he had previously felt in his veins was gone. All gone.

Blazing heat traveled up his spine from the tip of his tail directly into his brain.

He was seeing red.

His heart was pounding out of his scaly chest.

He couldn't keep a single coherent thought in his head.

The vicious predator within him had broken loose, and now it was taking over.

Geoff was still hungry, after all.

There was nothing he could do to stop the growl that tumbled from his throat, or the ear-splitting roar that followed.

Those mangy mutts messed with his little buddy, and they were gonna PAY.

With no control over his body, he charged forwards and lunged at the nearest wolf. Razor-sharp teeth pierced the canine's furry skin, blood sprayed. He just couldn't stop himself as he tore the wolf apart, ripping off chunks of it's flesh and scarfing them down.

From the corner of his eye, Geoff saw the rest of the pack retreating. If they thought they could just run away, they were dead wrong.

Geoff quickly abandoned the mutilated wolf corpse and bolted towards the others. They may have been fast, but they were no match for his far superior speed.

With a quick flick of his tail, he sent half the pack flying, wounding them enough to keep them from running in the process.

With half of the pack wounded, Geoff began to blindly swipe at the other half with his claws and tail, breaking their bones from the sheer force of the attacks.

The second all the wolves were downed, Geoff went into a frenzy.

He tore into each wolf, barely caring about the mess he was making.

The pungent scent of blood pierced the air, and the metallic taste filled his mouth.

It was nearly euphoric.

-----

Geoff snapped back to reality, his head now clear of the predator instinct. He was shaking. He stared down at his clawed hands.

Blood. His hands were dripping with blood.

As he took a moment to survey the area, that was all he saw. There was blood soaked into the grass and splattered on trees, bits of fur and flesh strewn about, it was a massacre.

Geoff felt weak, he wanted to vomit, but he knew what would come out. He was scared. Scared of himself, scared of what he had become.

Geoff stumbled backwards and collapsed under what he hoped was a blood-free tree. He dug his claws into the ground and threw his head back as he gasped for air. This couldn't be happening.

He felt like he could pass out at any second, he dug his claws deeper into the earth.

He could only hear the rustle of trees, his ragged breathing, and his pounding heart.

But just then, he felt something soft and warm nuzzle against his arm.

Geoff's eyes shot open and he stared in the direction of the sensation.

The little gopher had somehow found it's way back to him. His gopher..

It climbed into his lap and he immediately grabbed it, holding it close against his chest. He curled around the gopher protectively as his chest heaved.

Tears began to spill out of his eyes and pour down his face. He was so relieved. The carcass belonged to a different gopher, his little buddy was alive.

Little buddy.... Oh, God.

Ezekiel.

He needed to find Ezekiel.

Using the tree as support, Geoff got to his feet with the baby gopher curled up in his arms. He gave it a gentle, affectionate squeeze and began his journey back to the cave.

Ezekiel paced around the cave, clutching Geoff's lucky hat close to his chest. Geoff had been gone for hours. He had looked everywhere for him, but he'd lost Geoff's scent AND his tracks.

He'd lost Geoff, the love of his life, the only person who trusted him. He could hardly believe it.

Suddenly, footsteps. Slow and heavy footprints.

There were only two of them, so they couldn't belong to any animal.

But... he KNEW those footprints, he'd heard them before. He knew that rhythm.

It had to be Geoff.

Ezekiel whipped his head around, but the sight his eyes fell upon made his heart sink.

Geoff stumbled into the cave, dripping in blood and looking miserable. The blonde boy let out a pathetic whine and fell to his knees, letting his eyes meet Ezekiel's.

Ezekiel wrinkled his nose at the scent Geoff brought in and rushed over.

"Zeke, buddy... I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry..."

Zeke quickly hushed him and helped to maneuver him into a position where he was laying on his back, but Geoff refused to let the gopher go.

"You look sick, I take care. Just like before."

Ezekiel gently brushed Geoff's messy bangs away from his eyes and recieved a look of pure trust and vulnerability in return.

Ezekiel knew exactly what he needed to do now.

------

[notbecauseofvictories]

sometimes I think they put some sort of...aural drug in mediocre movies. If I played all these thoroughly middling movies in reverse, would I hear a satanic message telling me, YOU WILL BE TEMPTED BEYOND ALL REASON TO WRITE FANFIC ABOUT---YES, THE MOVIE YOU HALF-WATCHED WHILE COOKING AND ANSWERING EMAILS. YES. YES, I---YES, I'M SERIOUS. YES, THIS MOVIE. THE CHARACTERIZATION OR LACK THEREOF MAKES NO DIFFERENCE. UH HUH. MHM. YEP. LOOK, I DON'T MAKE THE RULES, I JUST WORK HERE OKAY?

[dixons-sunshine]

Yielding Isn't My Middle Name—Chapter 1 | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Chapter Summary: You and Daryl went on a run for some supplies when you stumbled across an injured man. While discussing whether or not to help the man with his injuries, something happened that instantly changed things for the two of you.

Genre: Fluff, angst towards the end.

Era: Alexandria, no Negan era.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of being knocked out and drugged.

Word count: 2.3k.

A/n: I'm so excited to get started on this! It's not my usual writing but this is such a cool idea that was requested. Not a lot of things going on in this chapter, but I promise that the next chapter will be better and longer. Anyways, I hope you like this!

The groans of an unsuspecting walker were effectively silenced by the flying of an arrow through its rotting skull. The owner of that very arrow, Daryl Dixon, stepped forward and aggressively removed the object from the monster's skull, blood splattering everywhere, including on the archer's face.

“Fuck,” Daryl cursed, wiping at his face to get rid of the foul smelling black liquid that spattered on his face, but instead of ridding himself of it, the blood instead just smeared across his face. “Fuckin' dickhead.”

Soft giggles reached Daryl's ears, making a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. Daryl turned around and locked eyes with you, an amused smile painting your beautiful features.

“Wha's so funny?” Daryl questioned, his eyes following your movements as you carefully hoisted yourself over the table that was previously used to block the door.

You shook your head, your smile never leaving your face. “Nothing,” you began, placing your hand in his when he offered it to you. “Just thinking about all my hard work that has gone to waste.”

“Wha' are ya talkin' 'bout?” Daryl asked, helping you jump down from the large object. Even when you were on the ground, the archer's hand remained in yours, a rare occurrence that you treasured greatly.

“Just the fact that I meticulously cleaned you up in the shower earlier this morning, and not even three hours later, you're already dirty again,” you explained, playfully bumping your hip against his. “I don't think there's ever been a time when you were clean for more than a day.”

“S'wha' ya signed up fer when ya agreed to marry me, sunshine,” Daryl began playfully, eyeing the ring on your finger fondly. “In sickness and in health. In cleanliness and in filth.”

“That's not how it goes,” you laughed, rolling your eyes.

“S'how I remember it.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in mock annoyance. “Let's just get the supplies and get home. I'm hungry and Carol promised she'd make that lasagna of hers for me.”

Daryl chuckled. “Told ya tha' ya should'a stayed home,” he began, holding his crossbow up as the two of you entered a different room of the small store Eugene had found on one of his maps. “Ya've been feelin' sick lately. Ain't managed to keep any food down fer a while now. Ya should rest, take tha' medicine Denise gave ya.”

You laughed nervously and let your hand drift down to your stomach once you were sure your husband wasn't looking, slightly rubbing your hand over the nonexistent baby bump—a bump that soon wouldn't be nonexistent. A bump that would change everything for you and Daryl. Something you had yet to tell your husband of, too nervous about his reaction to even approach the topic at all.

You knew you shouldn't have kept something like that from the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. The life that was growing inside of you was just as much his as it was yours, and he deserved to know. He deserved to know so that he could choose whether or not he wanted to embark on the journey of parenthood with you. If he didn't want to be a father, you would never make him feel obligated to stay with you and raise a child he didn't want. However, you selfishly wanted to prolong the inevitable discussion of your impending motherhood, wanting instead to enjoy moments like these with the man you loved; moments where you bickered playfully, where it felt like the two of you were the only people in the world.

“Peach?” Daryl questioned, snapping you from your train of thought. “Ya alrigh'?” he finished, looking over at you worriedly. You looked like a deer caught in headlights, and he didn't like that.

You quickly sent him, what you hoped was, a reassuring smile. “I'm fine. Just got a little woozy there for a second.”

“Ya wanna head on back?” Daryl asked quietly, his eyes holding that softness that he reserved only for you. “I can get some things by myself. Ya dun' need to be here.”

You shook your head in denial. “No, I'm fine. I promise. I wanna help you.”

“Peach—”

Before your husband could continue his concerned persuading, a loud crash came from somewhere in the relatively small building. Both you and Daryl spun in the direction of the loud sound, both of you raising your respective weapons—you raising your gun, and Daryl raising his crossbow.

Daryl's eyes flickered back towards you, a cautious glint in his eyes. You were sure your eyes mirrored his apprehension. Without speaking a word, the archer moved forward, his footsteps silent from years of hunting practice. Following closely behind him, the two of you moved towards the one of the only other doors in the whole building. You knew the noise couldn't have come from the fire escape door, so there was only one other option; the one that led down to the basement.

Making sure to keep an eye out for any potential walkers, the two of you carefully walked down the stairs. Daryl made sure to be ahead of you, his need to protect you from any danger overshadowing everything else. If there was danger down there, whether it be from a walker or another human being, he wanted you to be able to flee first. He'd rather die himself than have to lose you.

You heard the injured person long before you saw them. The muffled cries of someone reached your ears instantly when you reached the bottom of the stairs. In the old world, you would've run to the person to help, no questions asked, but the apocalypse hardened you. You couldn't trust anyone, even if they were injured. You just had to be cautious. That was the way of life in the new world.

Daryl raised his crossbow more, steadying the heavy object in his arms. You moved to stand beside your husband, raising both your gun and your flashlight to illuminate the small room. The beam of the flashlight landed on a man, his tear filled brown eyes squinting against the harsh glare of the light. He was gripping his side hardly, but streams of blood still pooled from the open wound.

“Hello?” the man rasped out in a broken whisper. Daryl remained silent, opting instead to keep his weapon trained on the man, obviously making him even more nervous. “I'm not dangerous, I swear.”

“Are you armed?” you questioned, not lowering your gun until you were certain of the safety of your current predicament.

The man slowly nodded. “I have a knife,” he began, unsheathing his knife and sliding it over to the two of you. “And a gun in my bag over there, but it's practically useless. I don't have any bullets for the thing. I came down here hoping to find more, but then I fell and knocked against that shelf over there. That jagged piece of metal stabbed my side.”

“So now yer cryin' on the floor 'bout it?” Daryl questioned gruffly. “Ya couldn't walk it off? Yer the perfect bait fer the walkers righ' now.”

“Daryl,” you addressed him in a low, warning tone. “He's hurt and he hasn't pulled anything on us. He gave us his knife. I don't think we have to be that harsh right now.”

“I dun' trust him,” Daryl grunted, eyeing the man distastefully. “It was too easy. Would ya give yer weapons over to complete strangers tha' easily?”

“I'm right here, you know,” the man groaned out, wincing at the pain in his side.

“Ain't talkin' to ya. Shut up.” Daryl turned back to you, his eyebrows furrowed into a frown. “We can't trust him, Peach.”

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes flickering between the unknown man and your husband. “Can we at least help get him cleaned up and bandaged? He's gonna bleed out if we don't.”

Daryl sighed. “Yer too nice fer yer own good sometimes.”

“I'm gonna choose to see that as a compliment,” you began, a small smile spreading over your face. “Does that mean we can help him?”

“That isn't going to be necessary.”

A loud gunshot echoed through the room, the man you had wanted to help being murdered right in front of your eyes with a single bullet to the head. You gasped and instinctively raised your gun. However, before you could spin around and assess the threat head-on, you felt a harsh blow to the back of your head.

You fell to the floor, black spots coating your vision. A strident pain flooded through you, and you couldn't think clearly anymore. The last thing you remembered was Daryl calling out to you, your husband vigorously thrashing against the hold of your ambushers.

Then everything went black.

You groaned in pain when you awoke. Your head was throbbing painfully, but when you tried to bring your hand up to rub at the pain, you realized you couldn't. Your hands were tightly bound behind your back, and you soon discovered that your legs were in the same predicament. You opened your eyes to scan your surroundings, but just to rub salt into the wound, you found that you couldn't see anything. A coarse material rubbed against your face, and you quickly figured out that you had a bag over your head, successfully obscuring your vision.

All at once, the memories about the events leading up to your predicament rushed back to you. The store, the basement, the man you wanted to help getting murdered, Daryl calling out to you—

You gasped and tried to sit up, worry flooding through you like an unstoppable river. “Daryl?” you frantically called out, your words muffled by the sack over your head. “Daryl?!”

“Y/n?” came the raspy reply from your husband.

You instantly felt relieved. “Daryl, oh my god.” You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, a lump forming in your throat. “You're okay.”

“M'okay,” Daryl replied in a hoarse voice. “Ain't me ya need to worry 'bout. They only drugged me with somethin'. Put a rag up to my mouth tha' made me pass out. They hit ya over the head with a gun. Tha's way worse.”

“I don't think that really matters right now,” you began, a bitter chuckle leaving you. “We need to get out of here.”

“We will,” Daryl confirmed, a sense of sureness in his voice. “I promise I'll get us outta here.”

The vehicle unexpectedly lurched to a stop. You fell back against the metal wall, your head banging against the hard surface, only adding to your already growing pain. You winced and cried out, unwillingly letting a tear slip from your eye.

“Fuck, Y/n!” Daryl called out to you. “I swear, I'll fuckin' kill these—”

Daryl didn't get to finish his threat. The back doors to the vehicle were flung open, the squeaking of the hinges alerting you to that fact. Before you could properly process what was happening, you were abruptly grabbed and pulled out of the vehicle.

You were thrown down to the gravely ground, your captors only doing you one favour, which was to cut the rope that bound your feet together.

You were forced onto your knees, the little rocks painfully digging into your jeans. The sack was ripped off of your head, and you had to shut your eyes against the blinding rays the sun emitted. However, you heard a grunt to your left, making you look over. Your eyes fell on your husband, and you were relieved to note that he didn't seem to have any physical injuries, except for a cut on his cheek.

Daryl looked over to you and his eyes held both worry and anger in them. However, he couldn't say anything, because a man quickly made his presence known.

“Bloody hell, darling,” the man drawled, his British accent thick. “You look like shit. My men really did a number on you.”

You looked up at the man with a glare. You remained silent, eliciting a laugh from the green eyed man. He shook his head and walked over to Daryl, regarding the man with a smirk on his face.

“All you got was a cut?” he tsked. “Your girl over here have to protect you?” He laughed before continuing. “What's your name, soldier?”

Daryl clenched his jaw in anger, his blue eyes glaring daggers at the man who seemed to be in charge. He refused to break, refused to give the man a sliver of anything that could reveal too much about the two of you.

“Not gonna give me a name?” he asked rhetorically. His smirk widened into a wicked smile. “Okay, then allow me to introduce myself instead.” He extended his arms, as if basking in the sunlight. “I'm Liam Davis, head of the Knights. Welcome to Sunny Meadows, and a new, better life for the two of you. That is, if you do your part, of course. We don't take well to freeloaders. No more life on the road for you. We're here to ensure a better tomorrow for all of us.”

You frowned and glanced over at Daryl, meeting his eyes. Both of you were confused beyond belief, but there was one thing you were deathly certain of:

The two of you were in crap ton of trouble.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[terresdebrume]

"You can put your things here if you want."

Niko, who was trying and failing to find a free spot on the bench that lines up the dance studio, turns to the newcomer with a grateful sigh.

"Thank you," she says, "I didn't want to put my things on a stranger's bag and make them think I'm rude."

The man who approached her smiles. He has nice, dark eyes and dark skin, a long curved nose, and the sort of smile that never fails to put Niko at ease. She doesn't how to ask what his name is, so she sets her eyes on the golden hoop dangling from his left ear and waits. It only takes him a beat to say:

"Oh, I'm Charles, by the way."

"I'm Niko. And now we're no longer strangers."

She turns and puts her bright blue bag over Charles' well worn black one, then turns back around and makes her way to where the rest of the participants have already gathered in a circle. At first, Niko can't see Ashley, but it's only takes a few seconds to find her on the opposite side of the room, happily chatting with one of the older men.

Niko hesitates. Ashley is the only reason she's even here: there are too many people here for her to ever spontaneously join, and she knows nothing about dancing. Even when she listens to her favorite music at home and there's no one to see her dance, she rarely dares to do more than shake her hands a little. She looks around, discomfited, as the teacher asks everyone to form a circle around the studio and Ashley stays next to the older man, but before she has the time to worry about being on her own, Charles appears by her side with a smile.

"Hi again," he says, and Niko doesn't know him, but right now his face is the most familiar after Ashley's, and she is grateful for her presence. She nods at him, although she can't make herself smile, and he asks: "Is this your first time?"

"Yes," Niko says. Then, the words tumbling out of her: "I'm nervous because I followed my friend here but now she's making new friends and I have no idea what to do."

"Oh, I think we'll start with Road Map," Charles says with a nod towards the painter's tape on the floor that divides the studio into quarters. "The Boss will ask us a question, then assign an answer to each section, and you'll move to the one that applies to you."

Niko nods. This is a simple game, with simple rules, and no one is asking her to dance yet, which is just ast well. She can handle this first activity without too much trouble, she's sure. That is: she's sure of it, until something occurs to her.

"What happens if none of the answers fit you?" She asks, trying to keep her voice low as the teacher explains the rules of the game to the rest of the group.

"Then you either pick the closest answer or you stay in the middle," Charles says.

Niko nods again. Charles is wearing dance sneakers, she notices then. Someone drew tiny ghosts and skulls in white lines on the black fabric, and Niko almost smiles. Somehow, the sight of those quirky little faces makes her feel a little less like the odd one out with her sparkly blue shoes. She keeps looking at Charles' shoes while the teacher asks people to pick between ice cream flavors. Niko moves into the vanilla square with one of the three elderly women, a boy who can't be older than seventeen, and a person who went out of her way to look neither male nor female. When Niko looks up to confirm Ashley joined the strawberry square, she finds Charles standing in the middle of the studio on his own.

"Mr. Rowland," the teacher says with the tone of someone rolling their eyes a little bit, "may I ask why you didn't join the caramel and butter square?"

"You didn't say if it was salted or not," Charles says with a shrug and a grin that makes Niko chuckle. "That's an important point to specify, Boss."

A few people smile or even laugh at Charles' answer, and Niko thinks the room feels a little less tense after that. The next questions are about favorite animals (Niko goes to the 'cats' square, opposite Charles' 'dogs'), favorite color (Niko's is pink, Charles stays in the middle again for turquoise) and how spicy people like their food (Niko goes to the 'mildly' suare, and Charles goes to the 'very spicy' square with three other people). Then the teacher asks how many country everyone lived in, and Niko is alone in the 'three' square, with Charles next to her in the 'two' square.

"Can I asked where you lived?" Charles asks when they go back to the outskirts of the dancefloor to wait for the next activity.

"Japan, the US, and here," Niko says.

Charles looks like he's going to say something but then the teacher, a red-haired woman with a strong scottish accent and impeccable posture, announces the next activity. This time, they are supposed to find as many movements to do as there are syllables in their full names. Niko is grateful that she has no middle name and terrified by the exercise all at once. Well, there are other steps in the middle, but once they've gone through A-nu-mi-ta Mar-lowe, A-shley Wil-son and Charles Row-land, it's Niko's turn. She feels like she might explode every time she claps her hands as she introduces herself as Ni-ko Sa-sa-ki, and then there are only two other people after her before they are all instructed to turn away from the circle and start practicing their moves.

Niko's name is five syllables, and she has no idea how she's going to come up with five whole moves! A glance to her left shows E-ri-ca Ngo-si has a similar issue, which is a little reassuring. To the right, however, Charles is stretching his arms over his head, seemingly unconcerned. Niko can't help staring.

"Are you not going to do the exercise?"

"I already did," Charles says with a wink. "It's my third session here, and we always do that game. I've got it down pat by now."

"Oh, you're lucky," Niko says with a sigh. "I have no idea what to do. I don't know how to dance yet!"

"It's okay," Charles tells her with another one of his smiles. "We're going to play the game again, you know. If you don't like your movements very much, you can always change them."

"I really don't want to get it wrong," Niko says, frowning.

"I promise you can't. There's no wrong answer there."

Niko nods, because she understands that. The issue is that if there is no wrong answer, then there is also no correct answer, which is more stressful to deal with. Still, she wants to follow the instructions correctly, and that means coming up with something. It takes her a few minutes of thinking to figure out the impression she wants to give, but in the end she decides to start by fingerspelling Niko with a small bounce, then three sparkle hands for the syllables of 'Sasaki'. It's a good thing she's doing this exercise in England, she thinks. In Japan, she would have had to start with the sparkle hands and end with the more muted gestures, as if she started out bubbly and calmed down over time, which is the oposite of truth.

Eventually, they go around the circle. Ashley does the robot for her gestures, and everyone learns her movement and her name in no time. When Charles' turn comes, with his bold Indian dance moves, it takes Niko a couple of tries to get it right, but she doesn't give up, and in the end she is the one who replicates his gestures the best. Then she shares her name and her dance movement, expecting her turn to go like everyone else's. Instead, before anyone can repeat her name, Charles asks:

"Was that fingerspelling?"

"Yes," Niko says, wondering if she's meant to apologize for not picking an actual dance move, but before she can do that, Charles exclaims:

"Aces! Show me again?"

Niko does, a smile overtaking her face beyond her control. She likes Charles, she decides. Likes that he went out of his way to help her, likes the easy way with which he accepted her questions, likes his enthusiasm in the face of something that doesn't technicaly quite fit the assignment they were given. She likes him even more during the next activity, when they have to consider a whole list of things about dancing and he explains a bunch of them to Niko, with demonstrations when needed. And by the time the teacher shows them their first, very simple dance step and Charles makes silly faces to make her laugh, Niko is decided to attend the next class, whether Ashley enjoyed herself or not.

This snippet takes place in the I'm down on my knees universe and will eventually be cleaned up and posted on AO3 x)

[fungifanart]

Hello there! Ive read your rules about requests just to make sure I dont request anything you dont like-

Anyway, Ive read some of your twst works, and I LOVE them! Their so amazing! Anyway can I request a riddle x m!reader just having a tea party date? That would be wonderful! Its ok if you dont do this request tho!

Tea For Two

Characters: Male reader, Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade

Cw: Mild cartoon violence

Word count: 807

Notes: That's so sweet! Thank you for your kind words!

-----------------------------------------------------

Riddle paces back and forth in front of the gazebo as he mentally goes over the list of everything he'd done to prepare for afternoon tea with you:

Fresh darjeeling tea? Check.

Toast with your choice of jam or butter? Check.

A wide variety of cookies, scones and miniature sandwiches laid out on a tea tower? Check.

Ace and Deuce being ordered to trim the bushes on the FAR opposite end of the hedge maze? Double check.

Riddle stops pacing to look over the table underneath the gazebo one last time, ensuring that he's content with the placement of everything, which he is, although he can't help but feel a little sad at the absence of a tart of any description.

When Riddle had first made the suggestion of afternoon tea, you specifically requested he not have any tarts prepared, much to his surprise and disappointment.

But still, what is a relationship without making compromises?

And so, Riddle decided to respect your wishes and leave tarts out of the preparations.

Riddle is then pulled from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps behind him and he turns around to see his lovely boyfriend approaching with a soft expression.

"Y/N! Wonderful to see that you made it!" Riddle says happily as he walks toward you before noticing a small box you're carrying in your hand, "May I ask what you have there?"

You give a small giggle before responding, "It’s a surprise! Let's sit down first." You say while motioning to the table.

Riddle nods as he and you walk to the table while talking happily to each other, so happily, in fact, that neither of you notice the sound of rustling leaves slowly getting closer.

After you both sit down, you proudly place the box in front of Riddle and begin to speak, somehow still not noticing the leaf rustling getting ever closer, "It’s been a while since we've been able to be alone like this, so I decided to make something special for you! I spent a whole week looking up and trying different recipes to make sure these were perfect just for–"

Your sentence is cut off by Ace and Deuce crashing through the hedge parallel to your table while throwing punch after punch at each other.

Riddle's curiosity at your creations is immediately replaced by fury at his underclassmen as he stands up to reprimand them before the butter knife suddenly disappears from the table and finds itself forcefully embedded in a wooden plank between the two freshmen's faces, causing all parties to freeze in shock.

Riddle watches as you wordlessly stand up with a blank expression, walk over to where the knife is and yank it out of the wood before pointing it at the freshmen and then using it to threaten them by making a cutting motion over your neck as both of their faces go pale.

Ace and Deuce run off as you sigh and sit back down at the table while Riddle does the same, albeit very stunned and mildly impressed by how you handled the troublemakers.

"Anyways, as I was saying," You begin calmly, leaving the large hole in the hedges to be dealt with later, "I put a whole week into making sure I could make these perfectly just for you!"

Riddle's eyes widen as you finally open the box, revealing six miniature tarts of various colors looking back at him. He sees a lemon tart and a blueberry tart among others, but most importantly, he sees a bright red strawberry tart at the center that feels like it's almost calling out to him.

Riddle stares dumbfoundedly as you take the miniature tarts out of the box and lay them out for him in all their glory, "So this is why you asked for no tarts…?" He says in awe.

You scratch your cheek sheepishly while responding, "Heh, yeah. It made me sad to see you so disappointed, but I wanted it to be a surprise." You say while reaching over to take Riddle’s hand in yours, "And…what kind of boyfriend would I be if I couldn't do something special for you?"

Riddle feels his cheeks instantly turn as red as the strawberry tart in front of him as he intertwines his fingers with yours and maintains loving eye contact with you for several minutes before the cheesiness of the situation settles in, bringing an awkward atmosphere with it.

"So…do you, uh, wanna try the tarts now?" You say as you let go of Riddle’s hand to bring yours to the back of your head awkwardly.

Riddle can't help but miss the warmth of your hand in his, but he still smiles softly at your question, "I'd like that very much." He responds while placing the strawberry tart on his plate and grabbing his knife and fork.

[bedtimegiraffe]

Putting Aerin Back in Book 2 Mini Fics

I'm fascinated by the idea of Aerin not leaving, but not enough to transcribe and modify like 8 chapters. So here are some highlights of how I think it would go if Aerin had somehow decided to stick around. Including Nia yelling at his ass like she deserves!

All sections except for first two stand on their own pretty easily, so if you just want to skip ahead to a scene you're thinking about, I'm not gonna tell you no.

---------------------------

Chapter 9

Zaradun Prison Cell

You're still trying to find a way out of your incredibly unfair imprisonment when an unfamiliar voice speaks up in the dark. "You're not from around here, huh?" You peer through the dim lighting and find a young dwarven woman reclining on the floor of the cell across from yours. Her eyes glow like the woman in the market's, framing her confident smile. Aerin smirks at her. "Whatever gave us away?" The woman gives a daring smile back. "You develop a sense for these things. Gotta say, I didn't expect to have any company tonight. It's refreshing. I'm Cherta, by the way." "I'm Raine, and these are my friends Tyril, Nia, Mal, Imtura, and Aerin." You catch the way Aerin's head turns toward you, his eyes wide. But his expression is neutral again before you can comment and Cherta continues on. "Well, Raine and friends, what are you in for?"

Chapter 10

Zaradun Crypts

As you all make your way through a thankfully undead-free section of hallway, Aerin turns to you with a teasing smile. "It seems I skipped right past 'acquaintance.' Or was it simply becoming too much of a hassle to introduce me separately?" Despite his tone, you can tell there's a real question under there. (Friendly Route) You smile at him. "Why so surprised? You've kept not betraying us. And you always struck me as ambitious. I can't see you settling for less than 'friend.'" Aerin smirks. "Ah yes, the ambition that has served us all so well." "You won't settle when things could be better. That's a good thing. We're trying to save the world here, Aerin." His smile turns somewhat genuine at that as he looks away. "I suppose I can take your word for it. You have done quite well for yourself, after all." (Romance Route) You lean in, smiling seductively as you run a finger across his jaw. "I think we're well past 'acquaintances.' Give me another performance like you did at the festival and we'll see what other titles you can work your way up to." Aerin shivers slightly, looking at you hungrily despite the faint blush rising in his cheeks. "Well if that's all it takes… I do believe I have some rather good ideas for how to further impress our indominable leader, when next they have time for me." "I think I can spare a little time now." You lean forward eagerly and press your lips to his. Aerin tangles his hands in your hair as his tongue brushes into your mouth. But far too soon, he pulls away. You pout at him. "What, that's all I get?" "Raine, we are in the middle of a haunted crypt." You grin at him. "Such lofty standards, your highness." Aerin laughs fondly, shaking his head.

Zaradun

As the group discusses if you should let Cherta go off on her own, Aerin subtly motions you aside. You follow him a short distance away before he turns to you with concern. “Raine, this may not be a good idea.” "You don't think we can trust her?" "Whether she is being honest with us about her intentions may not matter." Aerin lets out a shaky exhale, his eyes not quite meeting yours. "It’s… Cherta is desperate and about to use a very powerful magical artifact. Surely you can understand why that might be a disastrous combination.” You nod slowly, thinking back to last year. "Maybe I should go with her." Aerin looks relieved. “That seems like a wise idea.”

Chapter 11

Zaradun Temple

Tyril hasn’t relented at all, still glaring furiously at the dwarven elder. "We have seen the corruption Shadow magic has caused, among the Shadow Court and those they influenced." You try to soften Tyril's approach a little, though it doesn't seem like that's going to work. "We were warned that Zaradun had fallen to the same corruption." Elder Radimir regards you calmly. "Were you now? Do I appear corrupted, child?" Nia speaks up next. "I don't sense anything wrong with him. To be honest, I haven't sensed any Shadow corruption since we got here." Tyril gestures angrily. "There are ways to hide it. We saw that much with Aerin." Aerin stands his ground, clearly suppressing frustration. "Have you considered that they may not be corrupted? That there is some possibility things are a bit more nuanced than you were taught?" Aerin's got a point. "You said Shadow corruption was reversible, right?" He nods at you with certainty. "It is." Tyril turns on Aerin, rage still plain on his face. "But you can't tell us how." Aerin takes a deep breath before meeting Tyril's gaze. "Knowing what happened and being able to convey it are different." Tyril snarls. "How convenient." Aerin looks away at that, something brittle in his gaze as he seems to struggle with himself. When he doesn’t respond, you jump in instead. "If Aerin’s not ready to talk about it, we have to respect that.” Tyril looks at you for a moment before turning back on the dwarven elder. "And what about siphoning the Light from the prisoners to power your city's torches? How can you defend that?"

Chapter 12

Shadow Realm

Now that Valax is restrained, your party turns its attention to Nia's Shadow form. Mal looks at her in shock. "What the hells happened to Nia?" Before you can speak, Tyril takes an angry step forward, his sword still drawn. "It seems the Dreadlord has possessed her again." Aerin stares at Nia in horror, his face pale. "No. No, the Dreadlord is dead. But she is-" Nia interrupts him. "At least one of you can think straight." Imtura raises her axes. "You won't take her from us. Not again!" Then she charges! You and Aerin both throw yourselves in front of Nia. "Wait, wait!" "Stop!" Tyril doesn't relent, his tone commanding. "Both of you, get out of the way. We must deal with this!" Aerin turns to him, hands still raised. "Tyril, I can't imagine my word means much to you, but I understand corruption and the Dreadlord's influence very well. Nia is corrupted but she is still on your side." You immediately back him up. "It's just some lingering magic left over from the Dreadlord. Being in the Shadow Realm triggers it. It's still her, I promise."

Ironbreach

As you look up from your task to see how everyone else is doing fixing up Ironbreach, you spot Aerin staring at Nia as she stands off to the side, arms crossed petulantly. After a long pause, Aerin strides over to get her attention. “Nia?” She turns sharply to look at him, like he interrupted her doing something terribly important. “What?” “I wish to speak with you. About your corruption.” Nia practically growls at him in response. “Are you finally going to admit it's your fault? That all of this is your fault? That you dragged me crying and begging to the damn Dreadlord until Raine had to kill me?!" Despite the fury and Shadow radiating off of Nia, Aerin doesn't look scared of her. Just... sad. "I'm sorry, Nia. For everything I did. You're right. All of this started with me. And I am doing everything in my power to fix it, but... I know it may never be enough." The Nia you know would reassure him. Genuinely comfort Aerin that the trying is what matters and he can choose to be different. But this... is not that Nia. She leans in, snarling up at him. "Do you know what it's like to die, Aerin?" He flinches at that, but she keeps going. "I couldn't stop you then. But because of what you did to me, I'm not vulnerable anymore. I am not the weak one. So if you try to hurt me or anyone else, ever again, I will end you." The Shadow around Nia twists and flares as she speaks, reaching menacingly toward Aerin. His eyes flash with fear for a moment, but he doesn't move away. "I understand. But you should know that when I say you have always been strong, I am not speaking metaphorically. Of your character or your heart. The Dreadlord did not want me to take you because you were kind or trusting or vulnerable. It was because you were one of the most powerful magic users he'd ever seen." Nia looks surprised by that, the Shadow retreating slightly as she tries to judge if Aerin is telling the truth. "...Really?" He looks back at her intensely. "Yes. He was frightened of what you'd be if he couldn't control you. Of what you could do with Shadow if you chose. Just..." Aerin's face falls, his posture resigned and vulnerable, like there's an invisible weight on him that he can never put down. "I know this is impossible to ask. But try not to lose control of yourself. Hold tightly to what it is you truly care about, because if you don't... Well, I would hate to see you in my position. You don't deserve that." Nia looks at him for a long moment. "I am not some selfish idiot who thinks he knows better than everyone else. I've trained to use magic my whole life. So stay out of my way." Then she walks off. Aerin sighs, running a hand through his hair. He looks after her with concern for a moment before walking back toward Ironbreach's small garden.

Chapter 15

At Sea

Aerin is standing awkwardly near the back of the ship, like he can't shake the feeling he's in someone's way, when Nia approaches him pensively. “I want to apologize for what happened in the Shadow-” Aerin puts a hand up. “Nia, you really don’t have to. Certainly not to me.” She shakes her head. “I was cruel to you and you don't deserve that. I'm sorry. I didn't mean those things." Aerin gives her a searching look. "Really? You haven't been waiting over a year to say all that?" "I... No, I don't feel that way." Nia looks down. "Because nothing you said was wrong. I played a significant part in starting all of this. And you have suffered from my selfish mistake more than anyone else. You have every right to be angry with me." Nia's voice is small when she responds. "I hate how good it felt to be angry.” Aerin nods sympathetically. “I know.” “I’m sorry, Aerin. You tried to warn me but I lost control and people got hurt, just like you said." Aerin pauses to think for a moment. "You also bound Valax to Raine. If you hadn't..." A haunted look flashes across Aerin's face before he can return to his usual wry mask. "Well, I am certainly not a strong enough swimmer to think I could have done any good diving in after Raine during that storm." Nia nods slowly, conflict still clear on her face. Neither moves to speak again, the moment fading into almost comfortable silence. Then Nia brings her hand up toward a gash on Aerin's arm. "You don't have to-" She smiles slightly, Light glowing brilliantly at her fingertips. "I want to." "…Thank you." "You're welcome."

Chapter 17

Whitetower Palace

Allies recruited, you find yourself back in the palace with the rest of your party, meeting with King Arlan. After confirming that you will have the support of Whitetower's armies, he looks Aerin over coldly. "When you asked that I release the prisoner, I did not anticipate you would bring him back." He has a faint look of disgust. You look at the king in confusion. "Why wouldn't we bring him back?" The king's response is matter of fact. "Surely you've realized the reality of the situation by now. The boy is quite useless without his brother. I assumed he would be eaten by some wild creature within a day or two." The king sounds almost... disappointed that Aerin is still here. Mal snarls under his breath. "So much for the 'Gentle King.'" Annoyance or concern flickers across your friend’s faces. Except Aerin. He just looks directly at his father, a perfectly neutral expression on his face. When he speaks, his tone is unquestionably polite, but you can hear the sarcastic bite under the surface. "Indeed, however would I have survived this long without the support of my generous and loving family?" The king turns on Aerin with a slight grimace, but Nia jumps in smoothly with a distraction. "Your Majesty, you must warn your forces that the enemy will be using a lot of Shadow Magic. The Temple will heal all we can, but..."

Whitetower Encampment

A small campfire flickers just beyond the treeline, and you're shocked to find Aerin and Willow with only a few other goblins. "Willow, where is everyone else? Did something happen?" They look at you sadly. "A toxin poisons our roots. Sourceless. Unknown. Many wither, too weak for a journey." Aerin looks at you, somewhat exasperated, like he's been trying to solve a puzzle with a missing piece for days. "It doesn't make any sense. The Deadwood is far less habitable than the Whimsywood in general, but nothing else is affected. Their trees are fine, as are the remaining flora. The goblins are so heavily tied into their environment, I don't understand why they would be singled out." Willow looks at Aerin with a sad small smile before turning back to you. "It seeps deeper each day, even in those who have come. But you are friends of the forest. We shall stand beside you." You give the goblins what help you can before continuing. "Just try not to overexert yourselves. Once the battle is over, we can look into what's making you all sick. I'm sure Aerin can help." Willow smiles brightly at you. "The spring of your kindness still flows strong as a river, Raine. And yours, Aerin." But Aerin looks sad. "Of course, I would love to help. But... I do have something of a prior obligation." Right, he's technically your prisoner. But... "You know, I imagine the battle will be pretty chaotic. Maybe we'll just... lose track of you." Aerin looks at you in shock, like he's sure he misheard you. "What?" You look at him seriously. "Aerin. No one benefits from you being locked away. You can do a lot of good in the world. You just need a chance to do it." He scans your face intensely before a smile grows on his face. "I certainly hope so."

(Romance Route) As you walk back toward the tents, Aerin calls out to stop you. "Raine, wait a moment." He quickly catches up, before turning his serious gaze on you. "I want to thank you." You smile at him. "Aerin, not sending you back to a cell is really not that big of an ask. Especially considering that it might be the end of the world." He smiles back fondly. "I am grateful for that, but I meant something else. You changed me, Raine. You and your friends." His cheeks flush suddenly, and he looks at the ground. "I spent so much of my life chasing power, and all it ever brought me was pain and bitterness. I know I still have a lot of work to do to even try to make up for the wrong of my past, but... I have been thinking a great deal about... us." The way he says the word fills your chest with warmth. "Us?" Aerin finally meets your eyes again. "Yes. I know there are a thousand things that require your attention and it's selfish of me to ask for more of your time. But if you would like, when the camp is quiet... Come see me. Please." He looks at you with intense longing. Like part of him is certain you'll say no, but he desperately hopes you won't. You reach out, taking Aerin's hand with a smile. "For you... I'll make time."

[necrotic-nephilim]

Fandom: DCU (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake (DCU) Additional Tags: Omega Dick Week (DCU), Omega Dick Grayson, Alpha Bruce Wayne, Omega Tim Drake (DCU), Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Porn With Plot, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Grooming, Bad Parent Bruce Wayne, Rough Sex, Breathplay, Consent Issues, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Protectiveness, Protective Dick Grayson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Painful Sex, Pre-Flashpoint (DCU), Bittersweet Ending, Spanking, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Barebacking Summary:

Dick had accepted his relationship with Bruce was fucked up and probably unhealthy. He was okay with that. He even had enough self-preservation to refuse to be Bruce's mate for that reason. But when Bruce turns his attention to Tim, Dick's instincts for Tim show him exactly how little self-preservation he has, if it means protecting someone else from Bruce.

-

Omega Dick Week 2024 - Day 4: Protective Instincts

[factorialsotherfandoms]

*siiiiiigh*

Look I promise today's prompt was going to be cute, I swear to high hell it was. And no, this isn't going to be anything like canon, and yes, I don't care fix is for silly ideas and aus and dreaming.

So anyway today, instead of nosebleed, I'm writing alt prompt: begging. Spoilers for 22/12/23 streams~

TW: temporary major character death, possession, grief, suicidal thinking as a result of said grief, self harm

(Read all the way to the end for a happy ending still)

"Please!" Philza screams. "Please, give him back!"

The others at Spawn look nervously between them. Their weapons are still raised, their tempers sharp, unable to quite process that whatever is controlling Forever will not use his totems.

Philza pays them no Mind, gives no quarter to their words. Ugly sobs tear through his voice, tears dropping onto the moss and cobble that makes up Spawn. He cradles Forever's head in his lap, shields him with his body even as he runs fingers through white hair and begs a miracle from the sky.

Forever - the parasite within Forever - laughs, his whole body shaking as black blood spills from his lips and from the gaping wound in his chest.

"How quaint," the monster laughs. "Even now you still can't accept what's been done."

"Fuck off!" Philza turns down to look at the monster corrupting his dear friend's skin, snarling even as tears continue to pour. "Fuck the fuck off and give me my fucking friend back!"

"Ah but little bird," Forever's chest strains in a cough and corrupted blood splatters over Philza's cheeks. "Can't you see he's already dead?"

Philza leans further down, pulling his hands from white hair to press against the wound. There's only more gasping, cackling laughter as he bows his head and let's a few sobs pass. "No, no..."

"Let him go, Phil," a gentle hand hovers near his shoulder. "He might respawn yet - just let him go."

If Forever wasn't allowed to use a totem, Philza doubts he'll be allowed to respawn; he slaps the hand away and turns his eyes back to the heavens.

"Rose!" He screams. "Rose! Help me! Please!"

She's only promised to aid him and his children, though - Philza knows this, knows that so far across the worlds she must be weak.

"Please," he sobs again, quieter now. "Please, I can't loose him... I can't..."

The tears are no longer sobs, now just silent torrents dripping from his face. The hand comes back, resting on his shoulder as he cradles Forever's possessed, dying form, and rocks himself.

Someone strokes Philza's wings, and he almost - almost relaxes. But then there's hands on Forever- hands trying to pull him away - and he screams again; he throws himself forwards, clawing at whatever would try steal his friend.

The monster in Forever's skin laughs, but laughs as though it can no longer breathe.

"She'll help!" He begs the people around him to understand. "She- She promised... She'll help..."

Because no matter what, if he loses Forever, Philza doesn't think there'll be anything left of himself for Rose to save.

---leave off here for ambigious ending. Continue for things getting worse, and then better---

The laughter beneath Philza's chest ceases, Forever's corrupted body falling still. The form that had been taunting him goes slack, tension against pain falling limp.

Philza is intimately familiar with what that means.

Philza knows death in all its forms.

Philza turns to the heavens, and screams.

It is not the screams of before, not a begging, not a plea, not a blind hope within the world. It is a scream born of anguish, of a splintering mind, of something once great and terrible carved open and laid bare. The abyss yawns before him, the void open and wide. Once he'd skim its surface, dancing and laughing and free - now he seeks only it's embrace, the oblivion which it promises as a final, lonely embrace.

The spectators turn away, or watch, Philza doesn't know - he just screams and screams and screams, helpless to what is happening, helpless against the shattering of an already fractured mind. He thinks he might see Rose's frowning in the grass around his knees - too late, too late, too late, and he would curse them if he had the throat left to form words at all.

But he doesn't, and so he screams.

The darkness fades from Forever's body only now, only too late. It trickles into the earth, corrupting instead the concrete beneath Forever.

The moss beneath the pair of them remains pristine.

Someone tries to pull Philza away - he hears Etoiles say something about an explosion - but he refuses. He refuses, he refuses, you will carve him from Forever or you will not seperate them at all. Bury him in the grave beside his confident, burn him on the pyre with his friend, leave their bodies entangled and deep and dark their remains.

Tubbo and Fit will look after his children - they don't need a broken husk for a father, after all.

He bends all the way down, now, pressing his face to Forever's chest. The blood there is red, red, red - still trickling from his back, but only as gravity pulls it away. Philza pays it no heed as he presses himself as close as he can.

Distantly he is aware of people being shepherded away, of whispers around him - it's a curse, it's a curse that even now his mind notices the movements, the threats, keeps plotting to keep him alive.

He doesn't want to live, not in a world without the sun.

He doesn't want to live, but his chest keeps on heaving anyway.

He doesn't want to live, but suspects he might be forced to anyway; hands peel him from Forever and force him against a solid chest, and this time he is powerless to stop them.

They let him keep Forever in his lap, at least, now cropped blonde hair bloody and draped across his thighs. His own black hair is stroked, and what can he do but continue his sobbing against Fit's chest as the world caves in?

The world remains suspended in time, a frozen mess only beating by Philza's sobs and tears. It drags and it shifts, and he is too far gone to recognise the vines which reach up, entwining around his limbs.

It's only when he hears the waystone that he looks up.

Blue eyes meet brown, and Philza throws himself at Forever.

Even after a respawn fuck only knows where Forever is weak, so weak. They both tumble to the floor, Philza's quick twist putting himself below the only thing saving Forever's head from the grown.

"You bastard!" His throat is too raw to scream, his sobbing back with full force and distorting everything he says. "You fucking dumbass! You- You- You fucking idiot why did you tell me you were okay?!"

"Hi Philza," Forever's words are rote and his smile is confused.

There's footsteps, heavy footsteps, and a potato canon pointed at the pair.

Philza twists again, shoving Forever behind himself, protecting him come what may.

"Sorry, Forever, but just need to check. Clothes off, and we need to see you bleed."

"Fit!" Forever struggles the full laughter or fake scandal, seemingly too weak to do more than lean against Philza's back. "I didn't know you were into that!"

Philza hates the option, he hates it so much, but Fit's right, Fit's absolutely right - they need to know.

"It's okay," Philza keeps his body between his friends, tears still quietly pouring as he cups Forever's cheek again. "I'll help you."

The "and all I needed to do was die" isn't nearly as obnoxious as either of them want it to be.

Gently Philza helps Forever strip. It's cold, and he shivers, and there's ugly burns on one shoulder and and ugly death-scar on his chest, but not a hint of the black infection from before.

The buttons on Forever's clothes are too complicated to easily redress him. Philza slips off his haori, and wraps it gently around him. Tucks the belt in an approximation of tied, and pulls Forever properly into his arms.

"Blood too," Fit says. "I'm sorry, but..."

"No, no, I understand," Forever whispers, even as Philza hisses.

He scrapes his hand through filthy gravel, tearing the skin in an absolute mess; Forever bleeds red, and Philza grabs his hand, already pouring a splash potion on it and picking out the gravel.

He can do this, he can do this, even if it's all he can do.

Behind them, Fit takes photos, a d relaxes.

"I'll let the others know," he promises. "Why don't you two get somewhere warm, eh?"

"I don't-" Forever begins.

"Let me show you somewhere special," Philza says. "I think you'll like it."

Even in the depths of hating himself for things he cannot help, Forever has never been able to say no to that.

The children are asleep in Rose's Garden. Philza won't wake them now, and especially not with Forever in tow. Now yet - reintroductions... they'll get there, they'll get there, just not today.

But the children are in Rose's Garden, and so the nest is free.

It's a little exposed, but the hay is warm and the blankets and pillows and clothes that make it up... And it's so far away from anywhere, so far from anyone who might panic and hurt Forever before there's been time to spread the news.

It's also home.

Philza will have to put Forever back on the bunker's allow lists, but in his heart he knows Forever will always be welcome in his home.

[theearlgreymage]

“Relax, my darling,” Erwin’s voice travels up his body in prickling waves. “Let me take care of you.” Erwin does take care of him. He’s given him more than he ever could have wanted in the years they’ve known each other. Erwin makes him feel loved. The voices are silent when Erwin leaves after a light breakfast. They know what they’ve done, Levi can feel their malicious grins plastered up the length of his spine. Deep rooted sentiment and fervor have ensnarled themselves in the gaps between his ribs. Blooms of white Carnations, Wisteria, and Tulips have pierced his lungs and the thorns of roses have nested themselves in his heart. Sprouts of undying love have planted themselves so deeply within him, that he doesn’t even know where to begin in digging them out — can’t imagine plucking them free without removing a vital part of himself with them.

So, I may have gone off the deep end this time. Kind of wrote my first Dead-Dove fic. And it kind of possessed me for nearly two weeks while I wrote all 90 pages of it.

Anyways. It's a lot. The tags are a bit spoiler-y, but I do recommend looking at them before reading this.

I also recommend pouring yourself a glass (or bottle) of wine while you read this one.

Enjoy!!

Read it here on AO3

Additional information is below the cut ✂

Chapters: 3/3

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con

Relationships: Levi Ackerman/Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman & Erwin Smith

Characters: Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, Hange Zoe, Moblit Berner, Mike Zacharias, Nanaba (Shingeki no Kyojin), Keith Shadis, Eren Yeager, Kuchel Ackerman, Kenny Ackerman, Special Operations Squad | Levi Squad, Original Special Operations Squad | Original Squad Levi, New Special Operations Squad | New Squad Levi, Squad Hange (Shingeki no Kyojin), Petra Ral, Oluo Bozado, Eld Jinn, Gunther Schultz, Dot Pixis, Darius Zackly, Krisa Lenz | Historia Reiss

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ackerbond | Ackerman Bonding (Shingeki no Kyojin), Psychosis, Hallucinations, Loss of Bodily Autonomy, Loss of Virginity, Dubious Consent, Sexsomnia, Loss of Control, Forced Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Abortion, Major Character Injury, Character Death, Minor Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Gender Dysphoria, Forced Detransitioning, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Trans Levi Ackerman, Falling in Love, Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Oral Sex, Riding, Breeding, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Drunking sex, Kissing, Boys Kissing, First Kiss, Rough Sex, Gay, Bottom Levi Ackerman, Top Erwin Smith, Bottom Levi Ackerman/Top Erwin Smith, Unreliable Narrator, dark ackerbond, Fucked Up, Cock Warming, The Paths, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Necrophilia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Gaslighting, No Beta We Die Like Pixis - Doing What We Loved to the Bitter End

Summary:

The gravity of the whole conversation strikes Levi then. It weighs him down with vulnerability and emotions he’s not equipped to handle. Erwin’s offering him something he’s never held before, something he doesn’t know that Erwin’s ever even offered before.

“Okay..” Levi settles back into sheets. He lets Erwin peel their clothes off, one article at a time, and then rolls onto his side. Erwin pulls him in for another kiss.

It’s easy, like this, for Levi to relax. The voices have retreated to a hushed corner in his mind, leaving him to bask in Erwin’s attention, uninterrupted. Erwin’s kisses are serene, with little flicks of his tongue and docile fingers tracing the slope of his spine. Tension seeps from Levi’s muscles, he feels unbound — malleable. Everything is saccharine, as though he’s been dipped in golden honey with the way Erwin devours him in the most tender way possible. He has to hold onto Erwin, twist his fingers in pale blonde locks and grip sun-kissed skin. If he could, he’d carve both of them open, pry both of them apart at the seams, just to stitch them back together with a curved needle and silken thread.

[slynoitrash]

A quick Renfaire!AU for Sly/Noiz just because

Sly couldn't believe the brat.

Here they were, on a perfect Saturday afternoon, sun shining and instead of being able to sleep in, Noiz had practically dragged the blue-haired man out of bed at the ass Crack of dawn so they could go to...

"A Renfaire? Really?" Sly rolled his eyes with his usual over dramatization. He clicked his tongue when Noiz didn't even react.

How he'd gotten Sly to even agree to this, he had no idea. He understood even less how the guy had managed to get him to dress up as a pirate with him, either.

Probably something to do with the cute dusting of pink on the blonde's face when he saw him in the outfit, or the way his eyes lit up with excitement talking about this stupid Faire.

It was cute. Sly wasn't going to deny it. Well - not to himself, at least. He would, of course, still pretend to be exasperated.

"This your first time?"

"First and last."

A hint of a smile touched Noiz's lips - which was the Noiz version of a wide, beaming grin.

"You won't be saying that by the end, I promise. Here, follow me." The brat grabbed Sly by his hand and led him skillfully through the throngs of people along the dirt trodden path; by large, old-fashioned tudor style wooden shops and even a fucking castle. Sly couldn't stop the way his heart fluttered when Noiz had grabbed his hand, electricity shooting up his arm the moment their fingers had met.

Yeah, maybe the real reason Sly had agreed to come to this stupid thing in the first place was because he'd had a longtimecrush on his stupid pretty best friend and yeah, maybe he liked the way Noiz looked all dressed up in leather with a puffy white shirt.

Like he was in some stupid romance novel.

But he wasn't going to tell him that. Instead, Sly swallowed his feelings down as Noiz brought him over to what appeared to be a restaurant of sorts, overgrown with Ivy and a medieval bard strumming a citar in the corner. Everyone was dressed up; fairies, princes, trolls, hell there was even a dragon and a wizard going shot for shot by the bar.

Honestly, this seemed kind of...fun.

"I'll grab us some drinks, yeah?" Noiz smiled at him, that toothy grin that made Sly lose his breath, and let go of his hand to go get in line.

Sly tried to slow the pounding of his heart. The brat really had no clue, did he? Then again, Sly was pretty good at hiding how he felt under a mask of bitchiness and rage.

[abby-the-druid]

Shooting Star

SasukexSakura AU. "Sakura what are you doing?" She was lying on the pier, watching the stars waltz across the sky. "I'm waiting for my wish to come true, Sasuke, and I saw a shooting star tonight." M. Reposted from Fanfiction.net (find me there at A.Rose.Love).

Shooting Star

.

Hair swirled around the base of her neck, thanks to the wind rushing in through the window. Clutched in her fingers was a blue BIC pen that shakily circled the name of a town written in black on a map of the country.

.

The circled town was small and large, exactly opposite of what they were looking for, but it included everything they needed. People claimed it was beautiful, with lush trees and jade colored grasses. Surrounded by tall buildings that glistened like stardust at night. She had dreamed of going there ever since she was a little girl.

.

"There." She spoke loudly, attempting to overpower the noise flooding in from the open windows. Other vehicles roared by, barely hiding the rattling engine of his beat up old car. Her green eyes flitted from the paper and up to the male beside her. "That's where we're headed."

.

"Let me see Sakura."

.

She passed the slightly crinkled object into his much larger digits. One hand gripped the steering wheel as the other lifted the paper into a safer line of vision. After glancing at it for a few seconds, he nodded and gave it back to her.

.

Sakura folded it and clutched it in her lap; the circled city was at the top. Emerald outlined the rough edges of the BIC line, tracing and retracing their path.

.

"That's okay, right Sasuke?" He made a noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a mumble. "Because if it's too far and you don't w-"

.

"Sakura, you can have anything you want."

.

There was an odd leap in her chest, but she couldn't help smiling a bit. Her fingers gripped the edge of the map, the pad of her thumb running over the corners. "Thank you." And that was all she could say.

.

The car continued to rumble down the highway. Loose pieces of gravel crunched underneath the tires as lights flickered on and off like dying flames in the buildings they passed. The sun had long since disappeared along the horizon, but they were chasing it west.

.

The moon showed up a few hours later, when she was just about to nod off. Nothing but a crescent, the only lunar piece to be left behind. A clouded gaze lifted as she watched with shinning eyes, and somewhere in her guts, she knew she wouldn't ever feel the same again.

.

x. o. x. o.

.

It was different with her beside him.

.

The car ride took another day, but seemed to only take moments. The way she smiled when he pointed out the approaching coastline, and how she looked so young and peaceful in her sleep, he wanted to protect her forever. It made his heart beat in a way he hadn't ever felt before, and in a way he knew it would never beat again.

.

The sun was rising, and everything was orange. Tinted and tinged in a healthy glow. The green in her eyes was vivid and deep. She smiled up at him again, reaching for one of his hands, which he immediately gave her.

.

Sakura could have anything.

.

"This is it," her head was resting against his shoulder. He wondered if she could hear the blood pounding hard, almost painfully, through his veins. "We're here Sasuke."

.

The beach wasn't as lonely with her against his side, and the ocean wasn't so big. When he looked up at the stars, they didn't seem so far away. She made everything easier, and happier, and he just wanted to keep her around forever.

.

She tasted like salt when he finally kissed her. Damp, with a bit of sweat and a lot of ocean. But it left his mouth dry, and wanting to taste hers again.

.

The sand was rough, and the water was cold, but she arched her back, and she smiled in the silver moonlight, and he couldn't help but meet her in the act.

.

There were dimples on her lower back he hadn't known about before, and a short scar right beside her navel. She saw the birthmark on his ribcage and she kissed it. He feathered his mouth over the marks on her wrists as the waves lapped up against their toes.

.

Sakura giggled when he had to chase after his boxers, which had been floating away at high tide. Their fingers were laced together, two parts of the same chorus, and made their way slowly up to his beat-up car, following nothing but the sliver of light granted by the moon and stars.

.

He kissed her again, once they were completely dressed and no longer soaking wet, but that time she just tasted like him.

.

x. o. x. o.

.

"I just don't believe in it Sasuke. I can't."

.

His eyes narrowed only minimally, but he nodded none the less, before opening his own mouth.

.

"You have to understand that I do."

.

Her eyes looked like broken stars, filled with ocean water and tears. There were still pieces of sand sticking to her skin and she pressed closer to him. Glancing into his dark irises, she bit her lip and then looked at the water. "I know."

.

But she said it quietly and weakly. It left him thinking of almost anything else.

.

He let her hold onto him for another second before taking her hands and resting them on his neck. His fingers reached back down and took her waist against warm palms. With a breath and no music, he started to walk them from side to side, switching steps now and then.

.

Soon she was twirling and smiling again. Her feet kicked up the sand, and the ocean made crashing sounds somewhere off behind them. Silver light clung to their skin, and caused her eyes to look even larger in the darkness. Their feet carried them to the empty streets, not even the homeless were there to mar the emptiness.

.

"You have to know I mean it, Sakura."

.

She stopped mid-twirl, fingers flinching a little in his. But she remained quiet, letting him hang there with an incredible weight pressing in his guts. When she nodded he found that he could breathe again.

.

"I know."

.

x. o. x. o.

.

Light at night was cold and heartless to him. Neon bar signs, advertisements for naked and dancing women. When Sakura wasn't with him ladies would walk up to him, with barely anything on. With large breasts and exposed thighs, they smiled and asked if he wanted a good night. They told him they could make him happy.

.

He always replied no.

.

She loved looking at the lights. The neon ones, the glancing kind that ricocheted from windows and mirrors. The type that reflected off the churning ocean water. They were mesmerizing and beautiful, fleeting and temporary. Just like she was. A flame being smothered.

.

But her favorites were the ones that traveled from millions of miles away. Ones that could be dead or dying light-years away.

.

"Sasuke, they're all wishes. All of them up there…. Each one is someone's wish. Stuck up there… just waiting to come true."

.

He let her watch them in silence, because it was the only way to see her smile anymore. Running away hadn't helped, and he couldn't stop himself from thinking about the map in his glove compartment. The one with the BIC circle. The desired town they had reached; the one that was supposed to hold some twisted salvation. But after a handful of heartbeats, even with his fear of a broken smile, he opened his mouth.

.

"What about the falling stars? What do they mean?"

.

The grin on her face widened to his relief, and she brushed damp pieces of bubble-gum pink hair over her ear. There was a moment where he could see the scars that laced her together. Emerald glanced from his darkness back to the glistening silvers and golds.

.

"Those are the wishes that come true. They fall to you through the cosmos, through the damn atmosphere and down here…. Down to us on Earth."

.

x. o. x. o.

.

She was crying, diamonds on cream colored skin. And blood was everywhere. Across the bathroom floor and splattered in the white, basin sink. Red ran from her fingertips and she couldn't help but whimper on the cold, tiled, hotel flooring.

.

"Sakura?"

.

He spoke her name softly, and didn't flinch at the sight that met his black eyes. She was thin, skinnier than what would be considered healthy, and he picked up her bones before cradling her against his chest. She borrowed his warmth with permission and he felt her relax.

.

"My damn wishes." She nuzzled into him, fingertips leaving crimson smudges on his t-shirt. Her blood felt hot against his flesh. "My goddamn wishes never come true. I just want to forget, why can't I just forget?"

.

"I don't know," he whispered and placed a kiss on her forehead. "I don't know Sakura, but I'd do anything if I could just help you."

.

Her toes curled as noise escaped her throat. Her pretty features were twisted. Fuchsia brows furrowed low and her mouth warped in a grimace. Crimson and clear water mixed together as her eyes continued to leak. The blood was still coming out of puckered and mutilated slashes.

.

"Sasuke, I'm sorry." Her voice was barely recognizable, somewhere between a moan and a whisper. "I'm sorry I'm a screw up…. I'm sorry for doing this to you… I'm so sorry I'm broken and used."

.

"It's not your fault." He murmured, folding her arms closer to him. She was always so cold when these episodes happened. "He did this, it wasn't your choice. You have to understand it's not your fault."

.

"Then why did he do it—Sasuke why did this happen?"

.

He wanted to answer her, with every atom and nucleus in his being he wanted to have an answer. One that would make her understand she wasn't truly broken. But there wasn't an answer for that, there would never be an answer for that.

.

"I don't know." It was weak, and he wanted to punch himself, but what was there to say when you knew a beautiful girl who had been raped?

.

x. o. x. o.

.

The ride back wasn't nearly as promising. With summer finally coming to a close and fall looming around the corner, it was a ride stuck in a time warp.

.

She had one of his hoodies wrapped around her shoulders and a shell necklace strung along her collarbone. The deep green sleeves still smelled like the ocean, but they smelled like him too. A mix of salt water, car oil, something with spice, and a little bit of her pineapple perfume. It was an odd combination that was borderline insanity, but she loved to breathe it in. It was her third favorite thing in the whole world.

.

"What's your dad going to say?" she questioned quietly. There hadn't been an authorized vacation for him, and knowing his family Sakura knew the older man would be having a heart attack.

.

Not for fear, or worry. But for irritation.

.

Sasuke shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

.

She bit at her lips, and breathed his scent in again. She glanced out the window. It wasn't fun driving in the day. The only things to look at were trees and houses. There wasn't any light except that from the sun, and it didn't swim and coruscate like the nightlights did. "I'm sorry," she began to mumble. "You're going t-"

.

"Please," he cut her off gently. "Please stop apologizing to me." He glanced at her. "I made the decision. I wanted to take you." He reached for her hand and wrapped it in his. "It doesn't matter what happens, Sakura, I'm with you."

.

When she smiled he knew she didn't truly believe him. She never did.

.

x. o. x. o.

.

"Sasuke?"

.

Her tiny voice came from his window, from the middle of the leafy bushes and dying flowers. "Sasuke?" she repeated, tapping quite delicately on the glass of his window. It woke him with a start, but when his eyes landed on her fluorescent pink hair, he jumped up and opened the latch, quickly collecting her in his arms.

.

She was shaking, cold and thin, with tears glistening over her cheeks.

.

He mumbled her name and pressed his lips to her temple. Murmuring soft words of encouragement and whispers of love into the petal-pink of her hair.

.

It became normal, as the year moved on, for her to show up in his bed somewhere in the middle of the night.

.

Nothing but shivering bones and tear-stained cheeks, she'd look at him with broken eyes, but she always came to him. Wrapped herself in his arms, and his warmth, and found some sort of safety net in the vicinity of his heart.

.

And for him, that was enough.

.

Breathing in his scent, the spice and oil, with some of her perfume still sticking to his skin, it calmed her nerves and caused her blood to flow just that much slower. The moon would paint them in silver light, and Sasuke would get up and lock the bedroom door. They would fall silent when footsteps could be heard from the hallway behind his wooden barricade. When the sounds would fall away he'd kiss her again.

.

When the sun rose outside, peering behind clouds and peeking around leaves, it flowed in from the windows. Waking the male, but the female was still tucked safely against his side, shielded from the entire world, even the sun, as long as she stayed beside him.

.

She breathed in even clips, and her lashes lay pale and long against cream skin. Sasuke nestled closer to her, holding her to his chest, because if he could just get her close enough to his heart, he could protect her from everything. She'd never have to worry or panic again, and the skin on her wrists might actually have time to heal correctly. She'd look peaceful and happy in her waking hours, as much as she did in her sleeping moments.

.

He became accustomed to seeing her face every day he woke up.

.

x. o. x. o.

.

And then one day, he didn't.

.

It was a day in early spring, she didn't show up, and she didn't contact him. There was nothing but an empty part to his bed, and something in his chest that ached with the idea that she wasn't there beside him. It threw his whole day off when he woke up and didn't see her pretty face, or kiss the pink hairs on her head.

.

There were calls made, and text messages sent. Where are you?'s and Sakura, please talk to me.'s, and a few Are you okay?'s. But the phone turned out disconnected and when he went to her house, her mother shook her head.

.

"Sasuke, I'm sorry. I don't know where she is. She just decided to leave. We tried to stop her, but she's nineteen. She refused to tell us where she was going and just said that she'd be in contact with us."

.

There was an awkward silence as the male stared blankly at his only connection to the girl who meant everything to him. He could remember kissing her wrists and how warm she was against his stomach. Especially the way she smiled and how her tongue felt when she discovered his new belly button ring.

.

"Y-you don't know?"

.

The woman shook her head, and after another round of apologies, and I'm sure she's fine. He was turned away from the door, and sent on his way back home.

.

The sky above him seemed to dull. From the vibrant and deep sapphire blue to a washed out, cheap version. The clouds lay in lazy wisps, no tufts or towering entities. The sun dimmed without her by his side. Puttering coming from passing cars fell into a haze, mixing seamlessly with his father's new lawnmower and his older brother mixing power drinks in the blender.

.

Tweeting from the birds didn't even sound the same. It was springtime, that was their time. When they met, six years previous. When they were just young, before either one of them had been blemished by more than a scraped knee. Before he found out what her uncle had been doing to her. The flowers were usually so vivid, rubies and amethysts strewn across a base of jade. But without her? It was nothing.

.

x. o. x. o.

.

There was a lot of threatening and cursing coming in torrents from his father when Sasuke finally decided to pack his bag and find her.

.

"You won't be coming back here, I'll be damned if you throw your entire life away from some screw up who doesn't dese-"

.

The door slammed shut then as the teenager stalked out to the dilapidated car. It banged open again with another bout of cursing. His small mother stood in the empty doorway, watching him with similar black eyes. She didn't smile or frown, but simply watched as he tossed the backpack into the passenger's seat and started the engine.

.

"I'm telling you that you're not going!" it was another scream from his father, who had moved to stand in front of the hood, blocking the pathway. "You're not going, and if you come back here I'll call the cops."

.

"Okay."

.

There was a moment of stunned silence as the two males faced each other, but when the older man had a sharp intake of breath, Sasuke's mother finally spoke.

.

"Fugaku, let him go."

.

Shock colored his face, but her words caused him to stumble around the vehicle to have a better look at her, and when she said nothing else, the twenty year old sped from the driveway and hit the open road.

.

He started with her favorite restaurants, and the clubs she went to when she wanted to try and forget things. He visited the college she went to for a brief period, and found no one with any information about a Sakura Haruno.

.

He kicked one of the tires, about a week later, when it went flat along the highway as it started to rain. He cursed and told himself that the water running over his face was only there because the sky was pissing on him. But he couldn't deny the awkward gasps that pushed their way out of his lungs.

.

His wrenched open the passenger's door and dug through the glove compartment, searching for a wrench, hair dripping water down into his eyes, when his fingers caught on a crumpled piece of paper. Pulling it out delicately, trying to keep it as dry as possible, his heart gave a lurch.

.

There was a city typed in black on a crumpled map, and surrounding it was a shakily drawn circle, in blue ink.

.

A crumpled map that he had looked at over nine months before. He swore to himself and set it carefully back down onto the fabric covered seat. Reaching gently for the wrench, he looked outside and suddenly there was a little more color in his world.

.

x. o. x. o.

.

The ride took forever when he was just by himself. She wasn't there to laugh with him or brighten the small spaces with her smile. The gas pedal remained firmly pressed against the floor. He was getting closer to her with every passing mile, and he had to try to remind himself that she might not be there.

.

When the coast line came into view his chest ached again, and could remember the way she grinned when he pointed it out to her the first time they had decided to pass through. That summer seemed like years ago.

.

The sun started to sink by the time he made it to their hotel lobby. There was a blonde woman behind the receptionist desk, bubble gum cracking between her teeth; she looked bored with blank blue eyes. When he stepped forward she sat up a little straighter and smiled, quickly forgetting the gum in her mouth. "May I help you sir?"

.

He bit at his lower lip, and looked around the lobby area. There were a few people waiting on the paisley couches.

.

"I just…" he coughed and tucked his hands into his pockets. "Is there a pink haired girl around here?"

.

"I-I'm sorry but I can't-"

.

"You don't understand." His voice came out more desperate than he wanted; the colors were already starting to drain. If she wasn't here he didn't know where she'd be. "I'm not… I'm not asking information about her, or how she's paying or where she comes from. I just need to know if you've seen a pink haired girl around."

.

The blonde woman opened and closed her mouth, shocked and surprised, with pale brows raised up into her hair line.

.

"Please," he repeated, and he felt the back of his neck warm with embarrassment. "I need to know."

.

He was about to turn around and leave when she finally nodded her head, and tapped a BIC pen in her fingertips. "Yes." She said softly. "A really thin, really broken looking pink haired girl." She nodded again and glanced down at the papers in front of her. "Yes, she's been around."

.

Relief flooded through his guts. "Thank you." He gave her a smile and pivoted on his feet and started to walk quickly towards the entranceway.

.

"She likes the pier." He stopped and turned to look at the woman. She had stood up, and watched him with her brows still knitted. "She goes down every night. I don't know why, or what for. But that's where she goes." Sasuke went to leave again, but once more the female's voice stopped him. "If you know her, please help her. She needs someone to take care of her."

.

He spared her a glance, and then headed quickly for the pier, a picture fresh in his mind of the way she stared up at the stars.

.

x. o. x. o.

.

When he found her, she was laying on her back, watching the stars waltz slowly across the stratosphere. Her shoulders were still bone-thin and her shirt stuck to her skin, laden with saltwater. She was humming some sort of song he never heard before, and he wondered somewhere in the back of his mind if she had been drinking that night.

.

"Sakura," he said softly, and took tentative steps towards her.

.

There was a soft giggle before she actually sat up. "Oh," emerald orbs were glazed over. "I thought I was hallucinating." She smiled and let herself fall back onto the concrete. "It seemed like this would be the time to start hallucinating again." There was another chuckle emitting from her throat. "I mean, there's a lot of blood."

.

Once she mentioned it, he noticed it. Outlined in the moon glow, he could see the crimson glittering against the pavement. Her arms were slashed open again.

.

"Sakura, what are you doing?"

.

"Hopefully I'm dying, Sasuke." Her eyes rolled back into her head a little. "It's been my new wish for a while now, and I saw a shooting star tonight."

.

He jogged the last few feet to be by her side, and picked her up once again. Cradling her against his chest, he could feel where her vertebrae connected and the way her shoulder blades stuck out like knives.

.

She was immediately struck by his warmth, and wondered why she hadn't realized she had been so freezing cold. There was a breeze blowing past, and his scent drifted up into her nostrils, and calm fell over her, just like it had before. The aroma of salt and spice, mixed with oil and sweat. The only thing that was missing was the underlying tone of her sweet pineapple, and she recognized with some sadness, how much it affected the entire smell.

.

"This can't be your new wish, Sakura." She felt something wet fall against her face, and realized with wide eyes, that there was water coursing down his cheeks. "This can't be it; I wasn't here to protect you."

.

"It's not your-"

.

"Yes it is," he shook his head. "Don't you get it? It's my responsibility; it's my right to protect you. It's my fault that you're here right now. Sakura, when I said I loved you, I meant it—I do mean it. I don't care if you don't believe in it, I do. When I said that, I didn't say it for you, I said it for me. I want to protect you; I want to be the person you turn to." She opened her mouth but no words came out. "Damn it, Sakura, that wasn't your star. Your star didn't fall yet."

.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

.

"You better be. Do you know what it's like to not be with you?" he kissed her. "Don't make me wake up without you ever again…. Please, I can't stand it."

.

"Okay."

.

x. o. x. o.

.

They were holding hands, walking along the sand. It washed in the tide over their toes, and the pink haired girl couldn't help but look up at the male beside her.

.

Seeing a psychiatrist had helped. With the impulse to cut herself, and the desire to always blame herself. Sasuke smiled when she would come home and tell him all the things she started to see, and she could tell how happy he was when she actually began to eat. She realized that it wasn't her fault, even though she'd always struggle with it.

.

Ino, the receptionist, popped in now and again. They had become fast friends, all three of them, and quickly introduced a blond male named Naruto into the group. He could make Sasuke smile as much as Sakura could.

.

They lived together, in a small apartment somewhere a little off of the beach. With a view of the city and the ocean, it gave the pink haired girl all the lights she could look at, at any time of day. They spoke of his family once, but there wasn't much to say. Fugaku didn't want to hear from them, and cut them away from the family.

.

The scars on her wrists started to fade, but they would always be there, a permanent reminder of the destructive years, but also a monument to what she would become.

.

Her bubble-gum pink hair fluttered a bit, the sun started to sink below the horizon and the beach dwellers began to disperse. Children ran laughing and screaming as their parents stalked after them. Other teenagers held hands and flirted before vacating the sand and leaving it for only them.

.

"Did I ever say thank you?" Sakura asked gently.

.

He shrugged. "For what?"

.

She grinned and bounced up onto her tiptoes to kiss him. "For being the salvation I've always looked for, for being my star."

.

He pulled her closer to him as his tongue pressed against hers. "You don't have to say thank you, I told you, I love you."

.

"I… I love you too Sasuke." She giggled when he picked her up and twirled her through the air; she laced her arms around his neck. He let her back on the ground and they watched each other for a moment before heading back to their own apartment, hands still tied together.

.

"Sasuke?"

.

"Hm?" he asked quietly, pulling the blankets up over them, black eyes glancing up at the framed map that hung on the wall. There was a shaky circle around the name of a town. Lights danced in through the multitude of windows, but for once her emerald eyes weren't glued to their coruscating paths.

.

"Did I tell you I saw a shooting star on the way home from the hospital, those weeks ago?" he shook his head and pressed close to her, wrapping his arms around her before she had the chance to move away. "Do you know what I wished for?"

.

He shook his head again, and when she smiled he couldn't help but smile back. "What did you wish for Sakura?"

.

She bit at her lip. "I actually wished for two things… I wished that you'd always be with me." Her fingers trailed down his stomach. "And I wished that I'd have the chance to play with your bellybutton ring again… If you'll allow it."

.

He couldn't help but smile at her. "Sakura, you can have anything you want." And then he kissed her.

.

.

.

[deadboydetectives-confessions]

Charles daddy kink anon: I support you in your quest to find what you want, but also thank you for giving me the heads up that I should start adding "-daddy" to my DBD fic searches. Forewarned is forearmed because that is definitely a major nope nope nope for me, but I haven't bothered getting that granular in my searches yet.

I'm curious in a "I support everyone's kinks, just don't want to read them" way what other people filter for, actually! I always search for complete works only and filter out mpreg (which is my least favorite kink/trope) & once a fandom is big enough I filter out the words daddy, alpha, and omega. (I don't mind omegaverse per se, but there's a lot of untagged mpreg in it and since it's not a fav it's easier to just remove entirely; meanwhile I just personally am not into daddy kink in general). I also often filter for fics that are longer than 3k, because I tend to like more plotty stories and those tend to be longer.

I haven't developed any absolute noes for characters / pairings in DBD to the point that I always filter things out, but I do sometimes take out Edwin/Monty and Edwin/The Cat King from my searches because I'm just not as into those dynamics -- I care way more about the ladies than the side dudes and more about Edwin and Charles' friendships with each other and Crystal and Niko. I sometimes filter out Charles/Crystal as well since I don't really see their relationship as romantic so much as two people figuring themselves out, though it hasn't felt as necessary since lots of people use that tag as more a past tense thing than for a present romance. I usually use summaries not search filters to get a sense of if I will be into the author's take on the Charles&Edwin relationship. I also sometimes filter out AUs -- early on in my reading in a fandom I prefer to stick to canon-based fics and then if I keep reading in the fandom I go back later to look for more AU fic.

And I often filter for fics that include all of the main four: Edwin, Charles, Crystal, and Niko. Or do targeted searches for fic about Jenny, Crystal, and Niko on their own, as well as for other characters like Esther and Tragic Mick. For large fandoms I also sometimes filter for tropes I like, but a fandom has to be, say, MCU-sized before I start doing that regularly, so it hasn't been a thing for my DBD searches.

Anyway, curious what other people's search habits re: fics are? No judgement, I just want to compare!

.

[dixons-sunshine]

Yielding Isn't My Middle Name—Chapter Two | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Chapter Summary: You and Daryl get a little bit more insight on your ambushers. The leader, Liam, is extremely suspicious, but you just can't figure out why. And to top it off, a certain secret of yours gets revealed that changes everything.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injuries.

Word count: 3.6k.

A/n: It's finally done. I powered through and got it done. Yay me! However, this chapter is pretty boring with limited action, but I hope y'all like this nonetheless!

Taglist: @dixons-girl89, @jupiter1700, @enlightndone, @shadowcitrine, @ddamm (comment/DM/inbox to be added!)

“I know, it's a lot to take in at first.” With a grand gesture and a big, inviting smile, Liam proudly showed off the beautiful landscape behind him, putting all of the luxuries they had on display for you and Daryl to see—well, as far as luxuries could go in a world ran by the undead. “But I promise you, as soon as you get settled into your new...” There was a slight pause before he continued. “...chambers, a wonderful life most certainly awaits you.”

The leader's voice barely reached your ears. The whole scenario baffled you; if they wanted you to join their community, why feel the need to ambush and kidnap you? Why tie you up and throw you in the back of a van, with a sack over your head to obscure your vision, most likely as a way to ensure you didn't know what turns they took? And why wouldn't they just ask you whether or not you wanted to join the community in the first place?

A million thoughts ran with the speed of light through your mind, but there was one thing you knew for sure; you didn't trust this Liam guy, and you certainly didn't trust this community. You could immediately tell that something was off. You couldn't figure out just yet what about it unnerved you so much.

“Dave, Marco.” At the sound of their names being called, the two guys who stood beside you and Daryl perked up, their backs straightening as they regarded their leader. “Make sure that the cooks make enough food for our newest additions. And,” he began, looking at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes. Whether it was real or not, you didn't know yet. “Call up doctor Miller and tell him to expect two patients.”

“Why two?” one of the goons questioned. He looked at Daryl in disgust, something that irked you beyond belief. “Only the sexy lady here seems like she needs it.”

From the corner of your eye, you could clearly see Daryl tense up. To the untrained eye, they wouldn't even have noticed the way the archer's body language shifted, but you caught it. Of course you caught it. You knew Daryl better than anyone, and you knew that he was getting more pissed off by the second. One wrong move, and that man was more dead than the monster's that roamed the earth.

“Jesus, Dave,” Liam reprimanded him, clicking his tongue and shaking his head in disappointment. “You knocked the guy out with some hardcore stuff. We don't know how much of the fumes he inhaled. I don't want to take any chances. Our guests need to be properly checked out.”

Dave grumbled something under his breath, but ultimately agreed. However, right before he and the other man, who you assumed to be Marco, walked off in the direction of a small building, he stopped next to Liam and whispered something in his ear. The leader nodded before waving him off. They left and soon disappeared, and your attention quickly got drawn to the leader again.

Liam turned back to regard you and your husband. His lips formed into a tight smile, his eyes squinting with the pull of the muscles. For some reason, the action sent a shiver up your spine, and definitely not the good kind you'd experience when Daryl softly traced his fingers over your back. You had a lot to be wary of, and this Liam guy certainly didn't make a very good first impression on you or Daryl. You were sure that your husband wanted to lunge at the man and pound his face into the ground with his bare hands, and you definitely didn't blame him. You wanted to do the exact same thing.

Liam motioned to someone over your shoulder. In moments, somebody was grabbing at your shoulders and hoisting you up onto your feet. You stumbled a bit, not tumbling back to the ground only because Liam stepped forward to steady you. You instantly jerked back, moving away from his touch. You would've punched him for even thinking of touching you when he was the reason you were probably light-years away from your friends and family, but the rope tightly binding your hands stopped you from doing so.

You heard grunting coming from behind you. You spun around and saw the same goon practically manhandling your husband, forcing him up to his feet. When Daryl struggled against his hold, the man decided that punching him would be a good decision. The sight of Daryl being knocked back down to the gravel unleashed a certain protectiveness in you, and you took a warning step forward.

“You stay the fuck away from him, and keep your goddamn hands to yourself!” you yelled in anger, moving over to your husband and sinking down to your knees beside him. You thanked your lucky stars that your hands were bound in front of you and not behind your back, because it allowed you to trace your fingers over his face, searching for any bleeding. “Baby—”

“M'alrigh',” Daryl mumbled, glaring up at his attacker, his eyes alight with the fire of a thousand suns. “Asshole punches like a girl. No offense, Peach.”

You gave him a small smile. “None taken.” You helped him sit back up with a lot of effort, your hands straining against the rope and getting rope burn in the process. You clambered up onto your knees and carefully stood up, struggling to maintain your balance. Daryl followed your lead, and soon the two of you were stood in front of the leader.

Liam gazed at the two of you thoughtfully, his face unreadable. His green eyes flickered between you and Daryl for a moment too long for your liking before he readapted his smile. “Sorry about that, mate,” he began, his gaze landing on Daryl before moving over to the goon that had just attacked Daryl a few moments prior. “Peter just doesn't know how to behave himself.” The aforementioned man cowered under his leader's gaze, something you instantly picked up on and locked in the back of your mind. “Don't worry, he'll be punished appropriately.”

“Sir, please, I'm so—”

“Save it,” Liam snapped, glaring at the man harshly. “You know the rules, Peter. All actions have consequences. Those are the rules. If I ease up on you, the next person will expect me to do so and order will be disrupted.” He stopped for a few moments, simply staring at Peter with an unreadable look in his eyes. “You are dismissed. I expect you to be in my office in two hours. If you're not, well, you know what will happen.”

Whether that last part was a warning or a threat, you didn't know. However, what you did know was that for whatever reason, this Peter guy was deathly terrified of his leader. He visibly slumped and averted his eyes from everyone as he hurried away, practically bolting as if being chased by something.

Now being left alone with Liam, your eyes locked with the man's green ones. You couldn't quite place your finger on it, but there was something wrong with the man in front of you. He reminded you a lot of the Governor, the more you thought about it, but at the same time, he was different. It annoyed you to no end that you couldn't quite figure out exactly what about the green-eyed man made you feel cautious.

Well, his men ambushed and kidnapped you and your husband, so that was a pretty good place to start.

“Once again, I am so incredibly sorry about that,” Liam started, his face adapting a look of sympathy. “Peter is a rather new addition to my ‘police force’, so to speak. He hasn't quite learned that we don't resort to violence unless it's an absolute necessity.” He stopped for a second, looking at you before sighing. “Miss, I truly am sorry about what Peter did to you as well. Please excuse me for saying this again, but you do look like shit.”

You couldn't understand what this man's deal was. Merely a few minutes ago, while he was surrounded by multiple of his men, he had seemingly mocked you about the injuries you had sustained. However, now he was apologizing and being sympathetic? What was this man's motive?

“Now, Daryl and Y/N, I believe?” Liam began, successfully gaining confused and guarded looks from both you and your husband.

“How the hell do ya know tha'?” Daryl barked defensively, straightening his back to appear larger—almost as if he was facing a bear.

Liam's lips twitched up into a small wicked smirk at the archer, but he very quickly disguised it with a welcoming smile. “I know a lot of things, mate.” He shrugged his shoulders and motioned to the farmland surrounding you. “I need to know things to keep my people safe. They depend on me, you know?”

“Still doesn't answer my goddamn question,” Daryl practically growled, taking a threatening step towards the man. “How the fuck do ya know our names?”

Liam didn't falter under the Dixon man's harsh glare. If anything, he straightened his posture and met Daryl head-on, his height adding an advantage over the archer. However, having known your husband for a long time, you knew it was time to intervene before he started a fight he wouldn't be able to finish. His hands were tied and Liam had who knows how many people to back him up. The two of you were heavily outnumbered and outgunned.

“Daryl,” you called to him softly, raising your tied hands to gently grip his shoulder. “I really don't think that's the thing we should be concerned about right now. It doesn't matter if he knows our names. What matters is that we have to get the fuck out of here. We do that by playing along for now,” you mumbled into his ear, quiet enough to not alert Liam of your plan.

Daryl glared at the leader of the community for a few moments longer before stepping back, sharing a determined look with you. You gave him a small smile before turning back to Liam, regarding the green-eyed man with a strained, fake smile.

“I'm sorry about him,” you began, your voice sickeningly sweet. You were taking a page out of Carol's book—you were playing the wolf in sheep's clothing, biding your time until you and Daryl could strike back. You could only hope that your earlier outburst towards Peter wouldn't be used to call your bluff. “It's just that we weren't brought here under the friendliest circumstances. And now you know our names and it's a bit creepy. He's being wary.”

“For good reason,” Liam replied with a nod, motioning for you and Daryl to follow him. You shared a look with Daryl before following behind the man, Daryl following close behind. “You can't be sure about the dangerous pricks that are out there.”

“Ironic, ain't it?” Daryl grumbled lowly, glaring at Liam through his hair as the two of you followed behind the leader. He received a slight jab to his stomach from your elbow, and he let out a soft grunt.

“You see, that's why we built this place.” Liam walked on and motioned to the fields on his left. There were multiple people working on the crops; some watering, some picking, and some planting. You couldn't be completely sure, but you swore you saw a faint glint of metal wrapped around most of the workers' legs. Were you just out of it from the pain in your head, or were those shackles?

“Well, built is the wrong word. We found this farm back when everything first went to shit. The crops and the farmhouse were luckily still standing. We... expanded, so to speak. We built the walls to keep the flesh eaters out and built more homes on the property to house our growing population.” He stopped and turned back to you and Daryl. “I hope you don't mind, but you'll have to stay in the farm house with me for the time being. We're busy building new homes but it won't be ready for another couple of weeks, maybe months.”

“Jus' one question 'fore we decide,” Daryl began, stepping forward. “Why'd ya have to bring us here by force? Why didn't ya jus' ask us to come here instead of kidnappin' us?”

Liam stared at Daryl with a blank expression on his face. His face didn't give anything away, and it unnerved you beyond belief. However, he soon gave the two of you yet another smile. You were genuinely starting to wonder if his face was starting to hurt from the excessive amount of smiling.

“There's a reason for everything, champ. However, not everyone is allowed to know my reasonings to the things I do. That's reserved for the people I trust. But do know that I did it for your own goods. Between you and me, that entire building was surrounded by flesh eaters. You most certainly would've died without my men.”

“Wha' the hell do ya know 'bout—”

“Sir? I'm so sorry to interrupt you, but Dr Miller is ready for the new arrivals,” a small, timid woman spoke up, gaining the attention of you, Daryl and Liam.

“Ah, Mariah,” Liam spoke, nodding at her in greeting. He turned back to you and Daryl, using his hand to motion towards the woman. “Please follow her to Dr Miller. He'll make sure to patch you up and ensure you're fit and ready for tomorrow.” He walked a few steps backwards and clapped his hands twice. “Welcome to Sunny Meadows! Come meet me in the farm house once you're done.”

With that, he turned around and stalked off, leaving you and Daryl alone with the woman, Mariah. The aforementioned woman turned to look at the two of you. She was nervously fidgeting with her hands, her posture slouched and her eyes couldn't decide whether to focus on you, your husband, your wounds, the ropes tying your hands together, or the ground. You were confused by her obvious fear towards you. What people was she used to dealing with? Did she really think that you were going to hurt her?

“Please follow me,” she stammered out with a nervous squeak, turning around and speeding off into the direction of the very same building those other men, Dave and Marco, had disappeared into earlier.

You hesitantly started following her. Daryl grumbled and followed your lead, glaring at any person who dared to lock eyes with him. You had to withhold your chuckles at your husband, knowing that it was neither the time nor place for that. Under normal circumstances, you'd laugh at your husband's antics. But not now. Not when your main priority was getting the hell out of that place.

You soon arrived at the makeshift medical building. You followed her in, taking in the pure doctor-like feel of the building. If you didn't know any better and somebody had blindfolded you and brought you here, you would've believed that this was a legitimate doctor's office. But you did know better.

A man, who you presumed to be this doctor Miller character everyone was talking about, placed a syringe down on the table and gave you all inviting smiles. “Welcome!” he greeted you enthusiastically—and rather loudly, too. You winced at the sound, being painfully reminded of the incessant throbbing in your skull. “You both look rather terrible. Who should I focus on first?”

“Owen,” Mariah began in a soft voice. “If I may, maybe the woman? She took quite the beating.”

“Peter?” the doctor inquired, shaking his head and sighing when Mariah nodded. “That man has sent more patients my way than any scavenging trip accident has. I don't even know why your husband still keeps him around.”

Wait, husband? Liam was Mariah's husband? Then why was he treating her like that? Why was she so scared of him? A million different possibilities ran through your mind for the obvious fear the woman held towards her husband, and none of them were good. Daryl's ocean coloured eyes locked with your eyes. He visibly shared the same confusion as you. However, the doctor's orders caught your attention.

“Mariah, is it really necessary to have their hands tied? I can see the irritation from here. Please remove their binds.” Doctor Miller stopped for a moment, regarding you and Daryl with a thoughtful look. “Sir, ma'am, speaking from experience, please don't try to run or attack once those binds are removed. Whenever there's a new addition, the walls are very guarded. You'll be shot instantly.”

Mariah gingerly removed the ropes from your arms and tried to remove Daryl's. However, your husband flinched back at the foreign touch, making the woman confused. You simply gently pushed her aside and moved over to him, starting to untie his binds. This time, Daryl stood still, and in no time at all, his hands were freed. He rubbed his wrists, the rope burns visible.

“Alright,” the doctor started. “Ma'am, please lay down on the bed. I'll tend to you shortly. Sir, you may take a seat on that chair next to the bed while you wait.”

You looked out of the window and weighed your options. However, the doctor wasn't lying; there were multiple guards patrolling the walls in the distance. There also were guards walking up to the makeshift medical building, most likely being sent to ensure you and Daryl didn't try anything.

You had no other option. You had to continue playing along.

You slowly walked over to the bed and laid down. Daryl hesitantly plopped himself down on the chair next to the bed, his eyes darting around the room. He was clearly trying to think of an escape plan, but he wasn't succeeding.

“Alright,” Doctor Miller began, walking out of the side room and rolling a machine out with him.

You instantly knew what that machine was. “No, doctor, you can't. No, don't—”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Daryl stood up from the chair and glared at the doctor, his mind instantly assuming the worst at your reaction. “The hell is tha'?”

“Sir, please relax.” Mariah walked up to the side of the bed, grabbing a tube of some sort of gel from the drawer. “We have some new equipment we've been wanting to test out. We found this ultrasound machine yesterday. We just want to test it out and make sure it works.”

Your heart stopped beating. All at once, thoughts of your unborn baby flooded your mind. You couldn't believe that you had forgotten about the fact that you were pregnant. With everything that happened, your mind neglected to remind you of that pivotal fact. And now everyone was going to know, including your husband who you had yet to tell.

“Doc, I don't think that's a good idea,” you warned him, pleaded with him, but the man didn't listen.

“Nonsense. This'll be over before you know it. It won't hurt, I promise you.”

“Ma'am, can I lift your shirt?” Too frozen to answer her, you simply stared. Deciding for you, Mariah lifted your shirt a bit and opened the tube with the gel. “This might be a bit cold.”

The cold was the least of your worries. You had taken quite the beating. What if your baby was hurt? What if your baby was dead? What if the doctor couldn't find a heartbeat? All of those thoughts flooded your mind, so much so that you barely heard Daryl talking to the doctor.

“Why does she need'a do tha'? Can't some other chick do this?”

“I was going to ask someone to come in today to test it, but she's here now. Might as well get it out of the way.” Doctor Miller started with the exam, placing the object on your stomach and moving it around. At first, the screen didn't pick up a thing, and that made you want to cry. However, the steady thumping of a heartbeat could soon be heard, and a small figure appeared on the screen.

“Oh, wow. That's a strong heartbeat,” Doctor Owen Miller told you with a smile, the ultrasound depicting a growing baby. “Congratulations, you two.”

Your heart was attempting to jump out of your chest. It was amazing to you that the little blob on the screen would soon develop into a baby, your baby. You would pick out their name and scavenge for things for your little one, and you're sure Daryl would—

Oh, god. Daryl.

Slowly looking over to your left, you locked eyes with your husband. Instead of finding the love, affection and adoration that usually swam in his ocean coloured eyes, you found something else. You found anger, shock, worry, but above all else? You could see a renewed sense of determination in his eyes.

The archer was pissed at you for hiding your pregnancy and convincing him to let you wander beyond the walls, but he couldn't think about that. He had to get you to safety, away from these monsters. He had to keep you and your unborn baby safe.

The doctor should've heeded your warning. The doctor never should've insisted to take an ultrasound. Because of doctor Owen Miller, Daryl Dixon was determined. Daryl Dixon was going to tear that whole place apart, and anyone who dared to lay a finger on you would meet an agonizing end.

The people of Sunny Meadows were going to pay.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[wheredidalltheusersgo]

Chapter 11: Gopher babysitting

Day 8

Ezekiel couldn't wait to get back to the cave, he had collected some berries and raided some sugar from Chef's kitchen, so he was obviously planning something special for Geoff.

He just couldn't stop thinking about him! Geoff was cool, funny, sweet, and REALLY cute. Now that he'd spent a few days with the boy, he just didn't know what he'd do if he lost him. Now that Geoff had mutated, Ezekiel's little crush on him had increased tenfold.

A year ago, Zeke probably would have scoffed at the idea of being attracted to a boy, but he had changed since then. The fact that Geoff trusted him enough to tell him about his identity made his heart pound in his chest. Geoff trusted HIM!!!

Thinking about Geoff made him even more excited to get back to their cave. THEIR cave!!

Ezekiel scurried through the tunnels with nothing but thoughts of that gorgeous gator boy running through his mind.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached their cave, though.

Geoff was gone, but all their stuff was there. He put his bag down and rushed over to where Geoff would usually sleep. He had left his lucky hat here. He'd never leave his lucky hat unless he was planning on coming back. Ezekiel scampered all around the cave, looking for clues as to where Geoff had gone, but something caught his attention. Part of the wall had crumbled nearby, and that could only mean one thing.

Cave-in.

He had to find Geoff.

Without any hesitation, Ezekiel bolted through the same exit Geoff had gone through.

Geoff sat on the hard stone floor of the cave, holding the mutated baby gopher in his arms with a firm grip. "It's just you and me in here, little buddy.. Just us.." Geoff murmured. The gopher squeaked in response. "Hopefully not for long."

He felt so stupid, Zeke probably had no clue where he was or if he was even alive. If he had just stayed in the cave, he'd be safe and comfortable, basking in the warmth of a nice fire. What an idiot he was!-

No. He couldn't be thinking like that right now. Right now, he needed to find some way out of this cave and return this baby gopher to it's mama.

Geoff stood up and began to claw and scrape at the walls with his free hand, searching for any evidence of weaker stone in them. It was like he was acting on pure survival instinct.

As he scraped his claws across the surface of the boulder that had trapped them there in the first place, little bits of rock crumbled away.

Perfect.

Geoff took a few steps back, turned, and smacked his tail against the rock with all of his might.

With a loud noise, the boulder broke apart. Geoff repeated his actions with the other rocks in the way.

Now that the rocks were smashed apart, Geoff could escape with his gopher buddy.

It squealed and squirmed in his arms, but he honestly found it adorable. The poor thing was probably terrified, though. All the more reason to get out of here!

As he continued his adventure through the cave, he spotted a ray of light shining through a gap in the rocks ahead of him.

An exit!

Geoff ran towards the gap and clawed through it until he was in the sunlight once more.

Now, he needed to find some food for him and the gopher.

Scott wandered through the lush forest in pursuit of that invincibility idol. Once he got his hands on it, those suckers wouldn't be able to touch him! He snickered to himself as he walked. Chris had probably buried it under a tree or something, so it shouldn't be too hard to find.

He had woken up early and skipped breakfast to look for this idol, but he didn't mind. The idol was way more important. Attending breakfast wouldn't keep him from being eliminated, but the idol would.

He could always eat some dirt if he got too hungry.

While he was digging a hole, he heard a rustle. A jolt of fear shot through him, was it Fang?! A mutant animal?! No time to think about that, he abandoned the hole he was digging and dashed away. He ran through the woods as fast as he could, but he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight up ahead.

It was tall and scaly with a tail and sharp claws. It was more than twice his size, meaning it could easily make a meal out of him. The ginger squeaked in terror and clamped his mouth shut, realizing that any noise he made would alert the beast.

Too late.

It's head whipped in his direction.

Geoff stared down at the short ginger boy standing a few meters away from him.

He looked kind of pathetic, if Geoff was being honest.

He was shaking like a leaf, looked like he was about to piss his pants, and was covered in dirt.

Oh no, this was one of the CONTESTANTS. What if he blabbed to Chris?!

Geoff reached to grab the ginger boy but before he could close his fingers around his slim body, the boy darted off.

That wasn't good.

--------

[yonemurishiroku]

https://www.tumblr.com/yonemurishiroku/719280649358442496/what-belongs-to-the-sea-always-returns-to-it-its?source=share

My brain quickly set up a tragedy.

After a hard battle [with Gaia or another fight], Percy is badly, almost fatally wounded, but they still try to save him.

Will is pale as death and almost faints, but still presses his sparkling gold palm to Percy's wound.

Jason sits on his knees next to him, pressing Percy's palm to his chest and constantly talks to him, reminding him of their common dreams and hopes, begging him to hold on.

Tears flow from his eyes like a river, and his voice breaks.their friends crowded around in a semicircle — Annabeth is sitting on her knees and banging her fist on the ground, she had to come up with a better plan so that the fish brain would not have to go into trouble again, Piper comforts her by pressing the girl's head to her chest, although she herself is crying.

Frank hugs a crying Hazel, who repeats like a mantra that Percy is strong and will definitely get out, although his nose is red and salt burns his eyes, Poseidon's son was an older brother and friend for them.

Leo stands to the side with his head bowed low, the lenses of tears dripping onto the ground, if he were faster or stronger, or just more useful.

Nico is sitting next to Will, looking incredulously at Percy's fading soul, it just can't be that Percy Jackson died like that…

But when Percy's heart almost stops, his eyes close, and his breathing subsides, an unexpected happens…

His body turns into water, pure azure-blue ocean water, the contours of the figure, eyes and hair are outlined in bright white light.

At first, the guys naively rejoice, believing that this is either Poseidon's blessing, healing Percy and saving his life, or some special trick of Poseidon's child…

Percy gets to his feet as if nothing had happened and looks into the distance, not paying attention to anyone.

When a joyful Jason tries to hug him, he falls through him, soaking his hair and clothes, as if he walked through a waterfall, and did not try to hug his beloved guy…

Then Annabeth recovered from the shock, she smiles reassuringly at Percy and promises him in an excited voice that they will come up with something, return him to normal.

Percy uncomprehendingly raises a white sparkling eyebrow and in a strange deep soft voice, rising and falling like a sea wave, asks what a normal state means, he is already at his best.

surprise and silence hang for a while, only Hazel started babbling about "they will accept anyone Percy" and "they will definitely learn to live with him like that"…

Then suddenly the clouds in the sky part and the sun covers the sea surface with gold and Percy turns his head to him.

"Father," he says tenderly and entranced, "he's calling me, I have to go home...

his voice is so strong and caring, I'll be fine there.

"Percy turns to the ocean and moves towards it with confident, even steps, swaying slightly, like an azure-white waterfall.

out of surprise, the guys don't even try to stop him, all except Jason, he quickly gets to his feet and runs after him.Chiron joins him quite unexpectedly.

They catch up with Percy, Chiron just stands aside, watching Jackson with an expression of heavy sadness on his face, and Jason begs him at all costs to remember who he is and not give up, Percy smiles at him tenderly and says to the son of Jupiter; "I am Percy, I am a child of the sea, I am one with the ocean.

"Percy kisses Jason, leaving bitter salt on his lips and a mute promise to remember and love him.

Percy goes into the water turning into not even a ghost, but just a white light.

Jason falls to his knees and sobs.

Chiron comes up to him and puts a fatherly hand on his shoulder.

This is definitely something that should belong to AO3 museum and not my poorly managed askbox excuse ME I have to stay in the corner and cry for the next 3 hours why must you hurt me in this way.

[snoweylily]

sooo… you just don't know that modern-day fanfiction was invented by a woman during the 1960s so she could ship a gay couple, huh?