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sayafics · 10 months ago

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As, Bs and Cs - Chapter I

A CRM!Rick Grimes x OFC fic!

This is quite a lengthy chapter to hopefully build up the necessary context and foundations to their connection.

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The world had ended over a decade ago, the walkers consuming the population bit by bit until there was nothing left. The Civic Republic scrounged up who they could, their numbers growing to the thousands.

Still, the ones they had were not good enough.

They were civillians. Normal people who did normal things and didn't understand like the rest of them.

The Civic Republic Military was losing more and more soldiers with every mission, becoming overwhelmed with the number of walkers that roamed outside their walls. There weren't enough people to replace them - enough competent people at least.

In a decade or two, the CRM could collapse, and it would be no one's fault but their own.

They are the ones who had saved thousands of people who couldn't fight, when they should have looked for more soldiers in their place.

The CRM was weakening, and if it crumbled the Civic Republic and all its people would pay the price.

That was when Dr. Greer had proposed a... curious idea.

The Civic Republic was not without its faults, and neither were its people. They had their fair share of criminals who would pay the price with community service, but there was a small percentage; almost minute; who were worse.

Major General Beale had wanted them sentenced to death for their crimes, but Okafor had protested. He argued in favour of their usefulness - the skills they needed to commit the horrors they did was what was necessary in the CRM.

They could find use of them, he promised.

And it seemed Dr. Greer had.

Dr. Greer was a geneticist before the world had ended, with a long and profound career in foetal medicine.

A controlled birthing population - a programme designed so the CRM could gain the soldiers they needed without gaining too many mouths to eat.

The programme had only been a whisper for the last few years, a quiet promise and a tempting future. But the opportunity to implement it had never arised.

Until now.

The Campus Colony had been set aflame, and with it, it had stolen over nine thousand souls.

The perfect opportunity.

Now, all they needed were the perfect lab rats. A way to prove the programme would work - a method to rehabilitate criminals and give the CRM what it needed.

Major General Beale had wanted Okafor to be the first to try, but as whispers of Rick Grimes' rebellious streak took hold of him, he saw it as the sole opportunity to truly have control over the man.

Rick Grimes had spent years trying to escape the Civic Republic, all of his attempts ending the same - in failure. But he had grown daring, even willing to cut off his own arm so he could have a chance to return to his life before the CRM.

When the man had finally agreed to join the CRM after years of rejection, the ease behind his decision only made Beale grow more suspicious.

Rick had changed his mind so easily and had given up on finding his friends and family in a blink.

It made Beale uneasy.

So he would do what he could to keep the man tied to the CRM, even if it came in the form of a child.

***

"I didn't sign up for this."

Rick's voice was filled with fury as Okafor stood before him stone-faced, having recounted what Beale and Greer told him as he passed on the orders to Grimes.

"Yes, you did. The minute you said yes to joining the CRM, you said yes to every condition Beale makes."

Rick scoffs, a hand running through his hair as he paces up and down the sparse space of his living room.

His voice deepened to a growl, "this wasn't part of the deal. This wasn't our deal!"

"I know," Okafor's voice softened. He knew what was happening was wrong, but there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. Not right now.

"But you have to, Rick. If you don't, then someone else will. You're a good man, Rick. The others aren't."

Rick narrowed his eyes, growing sceptical of his words. He couldn't believe this was happening.

Okafor called it a controlled repopulation, a programme designed so the CRM could have the soldiers it needed in the future. But he saw it for what it was, and it wasn't anything good.

"Why do you care so much if I say yes?"

Okaford clenched his jaw, "because it's my fault she's here. And the least I can do is make sure she won't end up being partnered with someone that would hurt her."

"Your fault?"

A grim smile twitched on Okafor's face as he sighed and took a seat on Rick's couch, his head falling into his hands as his shoulders shook with morbid amusement.

"I brought her here. As a 'B' not an 'A'. She lost everyone because the men in our ranks knew no control, and I promised her she would find everything she needed here. And now what? She's a 'C'? A criminal turned into a pet for Greer and her people to study her like she's a fucking lab rat."

A bitter laugh escaped his throat as Rick came to a stop in front of him. He waited, hoping the silence would urge Okafor on.

"My men and I were sent on a covert mission - a retrieval. But one of the recruits got spooked, lit up everything around him as fast as he could. By the time we got him down, it was too late. You could hear her screaming, like it was battering your brain. We went to look for her and found her and her people inside a small cabin a few clicks north."

"What happened?"

Rick's voice was sombre, he knew what had happened.

"They were all dead and she was dying."

Okafor looked up at Rick, eyes wet despite the blank look upon his face - "I brought her back. Said she was a 'B' and spent every day after convincing her to join the CRM. She said no, of course."

He scoffed before he continued, "when she finally got citizenship, shit. Let's just say the world really didn't change much from before. She got herself a life sentence, would've been given death if I hadn't stopped Beale."

Now that sparked Rick's interest, what damage could someone do to have Beale want to sentence them to death. Or better yet, what hold did she have on Okafor for him to still fight for her after the supposed horrors she committed.

"This is a second chance. For things to go right."

Rick shook his head vehemently, "no. This ain't right. This ain't no second chance. This is worse than death. Worse than torture. Look what you're signing her up to."

"But it's the closest she'll ever get. Look, if this works, if the programme is successful and you give them what they want, she'll get her freedom back. Five years, Rick. It's five years and then she is no longer your burden to bare."

Before Rick could protest further, a bellowed voice called him from the front door, the blatant order being punctuated by three heavy knocks.

At the sound of Beale's voice, Okafor's shoulders straightened, and he stood up with a stiff spine as he looked into Rick's eyes, a hazy vision of pleading behind the stoic mask of an obedient solider.

"Say yes, Rick. Don't fight against it. They'll make you take someone anyway. Just let it be her. No one says no to Beale."

Okafor didn't give Rick a chance to reply, skirting past him as he swung the door open and stood at attention, saluting Beale in greeting. Rick followed him instinctively, copying his every move.

Beale nodded at the men to stand down, marching past them. Behind him followed a stern-faced woman, narrow-framed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose as she pursed her lips in distaste at the sight of Rick's apartment. She made her way towards Beale, nodding at Rick and Okafor before she looked over her shoulder and called, "bring in the girl."

They all turned to face the door now, the quiet jingle of chains growing more ominous as the faceless figure of Alara Hunter drew closer.

Rick held his breath when he finally caught sight of her.

She was flanked by four soldiers, their grip on her arms and shoulders so tight Rick could see her skin blanching under their touch. She was dressed in a thin vest, blue jeans, and socks. Her hands were cuffed, and so were her ankles, each one attached to a single chain held by the soldier on her right.

He couldn't help but furrow his brows as he lifted his eyes to track her face only to find half of it concealed behind what appeared to be a muzzle.

Her dark eyes darted across the people standing in Rick's apartment before flickering back to where Rick knew Okafor stood. He could see her throat move as she swallowed harshly at the sight of the man.

Apart from the chains and muzzle, she looked well. Rick wanted to scoff at the thought as soon as it entered his mind. Here she was, a young woman who had lost freedom, who was chained and tied down by the CRM.

But she looked clean and healthy and angry.

"Rick Grimes."

It was Greer who spoke, a pleasant smile upon her face that didn't match her demeanour.

"I believe Okafor has explained to you the purposes of this task?"

Rick clenched his jaw, turning to face the woman. He couldn't help but take a final glance at the woman standing at the door - Alara Hunter.

He turned back, catching Okafor's gaze before he nodded solemnly, "yes, ma'am."

"And so, I believe you are happy to participate in this mission of ours?"

Mission?

He wanted to spit in her face, call her vile and absurd and stupid. This wasn't a mission. It was immoral and unethical and torture.

Still, he held himself back.

He had seen the other men in the CRM: brutes that were all too happy to hurt instead of speak. Cowards who wasted bullets on flickering shadows. Men who had never truly grown up, and behaved like unsupervised children.

It wouldn't be fair to subject her to such a fate because Okafor was right. Regardless of whether or not Rick said yes to Alara, he would still be assigned a partner, and so would she.

He gritted his teeth as he nodded, "yes ma'am."

Beale let out a deep chuckle, moving forward to clap a hand on Rick's shoulder as he spoke, "this may be the best decision you've made, son. You are doing the CRM proud."

Rick looked over his shoulder once more, catching Alara's dark gaze, which grew hopeless as the seconds ticked by, and he wondered for a moment whether the people he left back in Alexandria would be proud.

"There are some conditions, of course."

"Conditions?" He turned back to Beale with a look of incredulity, eyes narrowing as he took a step back and shook the hand off his shoulder, "what conditions?"

"Given your... history here at the Civic Republic, Dr. Greer thought it best to ensure your compliance."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" It was Okafor who spoke now, drawing forward as his gaze skipped between Rick and Alara, who stood motionless at the door.

Greer spoke now, her voice sounded pleased as she sniffed lightly, "we believed it necessary that your first few copulations were witnessed. Simply to ensure adherence of course."

Rick felt bile burn the back of his throat, a wave of nausea that just grew strong every passing second since Okafor first told him and Greer's plans - "you want to watch us have sex?"

"If you would like to put it so crudely, then yes."

***

The conversation hadn't lasted much longer than that, Rick unable to have much of a say apart from agreeing to their terms.

Okafor had shifted to meet Rick's eyes with his own pleading gaze, and Rick had agreed to Beale's conditions under a certain stipulation.

He had only wanted the first attempt to be witnessed, but it seemed that Greer was unwilling to go any lower than three. Rick agreed begrudgingly, knowing three was still better than the initial seven Greer had wanted.

It was under Greer's command that the girl was escorted to his bedroom, and Rick was unable to hide his look of disapproval and contempt as they looped her chain around a post on his bed. It made him sick to see such a thing, made his stomach twist and turn as he held back his anger with strained difficulty.

As they made their way out of Rick's apartment, Greer turned to him with a leering grin, eyes running over his form as she wished him luck and revealed that she couldn't wait for the performance he put on tomorrow.

Rick froze at that, tomorrow?

Greer could only laugh coyly, an expression that was unsuited for her ageing face. She ran a hand over her slicked back hair, adjusting her bun as she smiled in earnest - "tomorrow is trial day number 1. It seems our experiment started at the perfect time, Miss Hunter begins ovulating tomorrow."

Rick shifted uncomfortably at the fact, unsure of what to say or do. It seemed Okafor was the same, eyes darting between Rick and the closed door over his shoulder where he knew Alara had been hidden.

"I have left you with the booklet instructing you on how to care for your programme partner, as well as how to discipline her, should she become aggressive. Do follow the guide Mr Grimes, we wouldn't want to place our first participant in any harm."

Rick could only blink, hand tightening around the small handwritten booklet Greer had passed him whilst Beale's men were dragging a reluctant Alara to his room. He could only nod, unable to meet anyone's eyes as he reached for the door and pushed it shut.

The last thing he saw was Greer exchanging a victorious grin with Beale and realised that they believed they had won.

And for once, Rick feared they may have been right.

***

After Okafor had left with Beale and Greer, Rick's apartment rung silent. If he hadn't seen Beale's men drag the girl into his room, it would've seemed like nothing had ever happened.

But it did.

Rick wasn't sure what to do - whether he should just sit on his couch and finish his bottle of rum, or if he should go in and make sure his "programme partner" was okay.

She hadn't so much as twitched in the wrong way since they dragged her to his doorstep. Her eyes wandered. They darkened and misted and narrowed, but she never moved too quickly or pulled away too harshly.

Whatever she had done was enough for Beale to have wanted her dead, and for Greer to want her genetics to be passed onto the soldiers she was curating.

Rick glanced at the closed door to his bedroom, wondering what monster hid beneath the chained woman who stood in there. Then he thought for a moment of who he was before the CRM, before Alexandria. Of the beast he had become after months on the road, surviving day to day with his children and his friends- his family.

Okafor had said one of his men had killed her people, and Rick knew that if he had been in her position and everyone he knew and loved had died, he would want to destroy the Civic Republic and all it stood for.

It was in that quiet space of reflection that he realised she may not be the monster they all made her put to be. And if she was, she couldn't be worse than the one that lurked in the shadows of his being. The monster that was chained down by threats. The monster that was trapped in a community of faux civilisation.

Rick steeled his spine, and with every step he took towards the bedroom door, he wondered how exactly he had been dealt such a fate.

***

Alara Hunter hadn't always been angry. She used to be quiet and shy and cry at the smallest inconveniences. She liked to think an echo of that girl still sounded inside her, but sitting on top of a stranger's bed, her wrists and ankles wound in chains and her lips forced shut, she wondered how she had managed to get herself into such a predicament.

She wondered how she had changed so easily.

She wondered why she was always so angry.

She still cried. Of course, she did. But her tears were filled with fury, with hatred. Towards everyone - her father for leaving her when the world ended, her people for shielding her that night, Okafor for bringing her to this God forsaken community. And herself.

Alara was so angry at herself. For letting herself be brought here instead of fighting to die at her people's side, for letting herself get trapped with the very people that slaughtered them, for letting them take advantage of her and get away with that too.

And now, what?

A sex slave for the CRM. A breeding whore. A mindless cunt.

Not an A, never a B. Trapped as a C.

Her heart hammered with rage, her hands trembled and her eyes clouded as she struggled to breathe through the muzzle. Like a dog, they had chained her and tied her down.

She promised herself, with a soundless voice echoing in her mind, that she would kill them all. She would burn them to the ground and make sure they couldn't rise again.

She wouldn't let them win. She couldn't.

The sound of a door creaking open pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked up to find the man who had been assigned to take everything from her. To break her.

Beale hadn't outright admitted that was the reason he agreed to place her in the programme so easily, but she knew. She could see it in the way his eyes lit up with triumph when Rick agreed, how he grinned viciously when Greer was adamant to watch their copulations.

He thought this would break her, but she wouldn't let it.

She stared at the man - Rick. He was tall, tall enough that she was sure even if she was standing she would have to crane her neck to look him in the eyes.

And his eyes, she found she couldn't look away if she tried. Something hollow glistened in them, as though the man was no longer human.

An unfamiliar whisper spoke in her mind, like calls to like. And she wondered how much truth was held behind such a statement.

He was handsome, she couldn't fault him there. But he was a soldier for the CRM and that made him an enemy. It meant regardless of his pretty eyes or gravelled voice, he was just as bad as the rest of them.

Just as bad as Greer and Beale and Okafor.

Rick steps closer to her and Alara can't help but shrink away. It seems he expected her reaction, halting on the spot as his eyes soften. The sight did nothing but ignite a smouldering rage in her heart - if he felt pity for her, he should let her go. Let her escape.

For some reason, it seemed Rick was able to understand exactly what she was thinking, and he spoke placatively as she narrowed her eyes in his direction, "I can't take the cuffs off."

Alara rolled her eyes, that much was obvious. If he wasn't going to help her, then she didn't want to speak to him. She drew herself back further on the bed, her back pressing against the headboard as she turned to look out the small window of his bedroom.

The view wasn't the best, but it was more than the sliver of light that occasionally glimpsed through her cell. She felt the gentle touch of a setting sun heat her skin, she could feel herself flush under its soft embrace as she wondered how many years it had been since she had felt the sun on her face. The wind in her hair.

Her skin had paled in her dark cell, her tan from harsh summers in Georgia stripped from her when she was sentenced. It was then she decided; it had been far too long.

She closed her eyes and counted Rick's breaths as he stood, watching. The setting sun was a timer to the start of her doom, she heard Greer's plans and it was moving too quickly to put a stop to them now.

Rick's breaths were slow and steady, like he was trying to control his own wild beast as he watched her. She pretended they were the sound of a clock ticking, that time had slowed down to let her savour this broken freedom and make most of the hours she had left.

The bed sunk under an unexpected weight and the light warming her face had been blocked by a head. She kept her eyes closed pretending she didn't notice the difference- pretending her face didn't grow warmer under his intense stare.

"Have you eaten? It's late."

She kept quiet, hoping he would think she was dozing off and leave her be. But he saw the way her lashes fluttered, the way her chest rose and fell in quick successions as she struggled to breathe through the mask, the way her fingers twitched when he shuffled upon the bed.

He scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what to say or what to do.

"I could make you something to eat. I- I could make pancakes, Ca-" he took another deep breath, settling a quiet ache in his chest, "or eggs or something."

Her eyes burned as she kept them shut tight, thinking about when the last time she had a warm meal was. She turned away from him, nodding as she reached a hand to run through her hair only for the chain to stop it short of her shoulders. She gritted her teeth at the harsh tug, unable to hide her sniffles and the tears streaming down her face.

Why was she crying?

Was it anger? Fear?

Rick watched her for a moment as she tried to compose herself. She struggled with the limited movement and tangled chains, she screwed her eyes shut and her shoulders raised as she took deep breaths.

Rick couldn't help the apology that escaped his lips as he stood from the bed, nor could he stop the guilt weighing upon his shoulders at the broken laugh she replied with.

***

Rick hadn't eaten much since joining the CRM. Being forced to give up the idea of returning to Alexandria had taken a part of him, had broken it beyond repair. He rarely felt hungry anymore.

At most, he would force himself to eat some slices of toast so he wouldn't stumble during training. Or if he was truly lost in his thoughts, he would make himself Carl's favourite meal and pretend his son was there, eating it alongside him.

That was what sat in front of him now - blueberry and peanut butter pancakes, with whipped cream dolloped on to make a smiley-face and sugar sprinkled on top. He remembered the day Carl had first begged him to make it, and his pleading eyes and mischievous grin had been too precious to say no. It had tasted horrible, all sorts of sticky and sweet lathered in soft bread, but when Carl had asked him so proudly what he thought, Rick could only smile and clear his plate.

The handwritten guide Greer gave him sat on the counter near him, and the page he had left it open on strictly forbade him from giving the girl utensils, in case she hurt herself or him.

He didn't have any plastic cutlery on hand, so he could only sigh as he took the paper plate back to his room to lay on top of the bed.

Alara stared at the carefully decorated stack, and though the muzzle hid the shape of her lips, he saw the corner of her eyes crinkle and he liked to think it was because this small memory of Carl had been enough to make her smile.

He bit his lip before he spoke, "I can take the..." he gestured carefully to her face, "I can take it off, so you can eat."

Her eyes gleamed with hope, her lips burning at the stretch of the mouthpiece wedged between so she couldn't bite her tongue and choke herself to death.

"But I got'a put it back on after, okay?"

Her eyes narrowed, she pushed the plate away as a garbled scoff could be heard through the muzzle. She knew she shouldn't be surprised, it wasn't as though the muzzle was a newly added piece to her prison regalia. No, Beale had ordered it to be placed on her after her first few weeks in the CRM prison cell didn't go too well.

"Hey, look," Rick's voice sounded strongly as he got closer, sitting at the edge of the bed and facing her, "I wouldn't do it if I didn't have to. But it's in Greer's instructions, and if I ignore it, it's not going to end well for either of us."

She looked at him with scepticism in her eyes, but it took one look at the warm plate of pancakes to dissolve any resistance. She agreed reluctantly, and Rick reached around her head to unclip the mouthpiece.

It covered her entire mouth and lower jaw, pressed tight against the skin in a way he knew had to be uncomfortable.

Alara could feel his slow breaths on her neck, and goosebumps broke out marking their way down her arms and chest. Rick felt her shiver against him, and as he continued to unlatch her muzzle, he murmured a promise to try and get some clothes that would fit over her manacles.

When he finally gets the muzzle free, the first sound to escape her was a relieved sigh, making the most of her momentary freedom. She stretched her jaw and Rick leaned away, throwing the muzzle on to the bed as he stared at her with his gaze anew.

When he had first seen her, he couldn't deny her beauty - not with her long, dark hair and her soft brown eyes. But now, seeing her face whole, he couldn't help but be mesmerised by the sight of her.

Alara was young, her youth visible in her face. She looked untouched and unharmed by the end of the world, but Rick knew that thought was a lie.

She licked her lips, the skin cracked and dry from being forced to remain stretched over the mouthpiece. She looked away from Rick, pretending he wasn't there despite how hard it was to ignore that the man sat directly opposite her.

He pushed the plate closer, encouragingly - "eat."

She reached for the plate, unsurprised by the lack of utensils, and ripped off a piece of the pancake. She reached to place it in her mouth, only for her chains to stop her short. She growled lightly in frustration before leaning her head down to take it into her mouth. The awkward position hurt her neck, the muscles already aching from the weight of her muzzle.

She sighed contently, the pancake warm in her mouth and the cream melting quickly. It was sweet and left a cloying taste in her mouth, her jaw tingling as it was exposed to flavours that had been hidden from her for so long.

She looked out the window again where night had fallen, and slowly chewed the food in her mouth as she savoured it. When she swallowed, she turned back to take another piece only to find one waiting inches from her face.

Rick watched her with a contemplative gaze, before encouraging her by saying, "it wouldn't do you any good to eat like that."

She bit her lip, wondering what she should do. But this might be the only meal she gets before the trial if Greer had it her way - she didn't know what instructions Greer had left, so she couldn't risk not taking the opportunity if it stood before her.

Another careful thought entered her mind, pushing her to get close to Rick - close enough, intimate enough that he may possibly choose her over the CRM.

She kept that whisper close to her heart, looking deep into Rick's eyes that resembled the sky and she ate the piece he held for her. He watched her chew and swallow, and something in her begged her to speak.

To show her gratitude or to fill the silence. Something to show him she was human, something to make it easier for him to care.

"This tastes horrible."

It was the first time she had spoken in years - she had given up talking because there was simply no one to listen, and her broken screams had been silenced by Beale's muzzle.

Her voice cracked with every word, rasped and dry. The sound of her voice felt like that of a stranger's.

To her surprise, Rick simply laughed, his eyes glistening with the faint memory of something as he tore off another piece to feed her.

They then chose to sit in silence, Rick feeding her every bite and watching her chew and swallow methodically. By the end, Alara hated to say that she grew fond of the weird taste and wondered when she could try them next.

When Rick stood to dispose of the plate, they both pretended not to notice how he forgot to replace the muzzle.

***

The bed was soft - foreign. After years of a thin mattress on the cold cement floor, she didn't think she could get used to something like this bed again. Nor the feeling of sleeping without a chunk of metal strapped across her face.

It had helped with one thing though, that stupid muzzle. She had learnt to make the most of each breath, quiet inhales for six deep seconds, hold for four and release over eight. Wait and repeat.

It was a structured sound, calculated based on the accompanying breaths that sounded from the ground.

Rick also lied awake, eyes focused on the ceiling as his mind whirred around how everything had changed so quickly. Again.

First the bridge. Then the CRM. And now, her.

For once, he found himself thinking of someone else other than those whom he had left behind in Alexandria, and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing. He thought of her reaction to the pancakes, a ghost of a smile on his face as he reminisced a fading past with his son.

He wondered what colour Carl's eyes had been when they widened in glee. Had they been the bright blue of a summer sky? Or the misty clouds right before a thunderstorm? Carl had always loved thunderstorms, loved to run through the rain and splash in the mud before everything had gone so wrong. Had his eyes been blue at all?

And what about Judith? Who had she grown to resemble? He imagined she would be a spitting image of Lori, with her long brown her and her kind eyes, but she would have Shane's short temper and remarks and it would make her that much more precious to him.

His eyes burned, and he sent a silent prayer to whoever would listen and begged to be reunited with his child. An even quieter whisper confessed he wouldn't mind which one.

Alara's breaths teetered off, her silent counting falling apart as Rick's own grew shuttered in the dark. She wasn't sure if she should say something - he had chosen to stay here, to sleep on the floor and listen to the guide even though he had already ignored it once.

Then she thought of the miserable nights she spent in her damp cell, how she wished there was someone she could share her burdens with so they wouldn't hollow her soul and burn her will.

"How did you get here?" She whispered into the dark, her voice still scratchy from the lack of use.

She heard in sharp inhale, one he tried to cover with the rustling of blankets as he turned his head to look at where she lay on the edge of the bed.

Lying on her stomach was the only comfortable position she could manage. Her head rested on her arms, her legs curled as close to her body as she could manage. She could only look towards Rick in her mangled state, but there was something in her gaze that looked content at the feel of the beds soft embrace.

Even the smell was so unlike the stale wetness that clouded her cell, it had smelt like the air right before the rain fell in autumn. Now, her nose was buried in the faint scent of musk, leather and something earthy, and she liked to think this is what freedom would smell like, had they let her roam outside.

"Someone found me when I was hurt," Rick believed there was no harm in revealing such information, a small part of him hoping the small similarities in their pasts would make her trust him even more.

"They brought me here, I haven't left since."

"Because you didn't want to? Or because you couldn't?"

The silence that rung between them spoke for itself.

"They took everything from me before bringing me here. The only thing I wanted was my freedom, and they've taken that too." There was no hesitation in her confession, only conviction.

Rick watched as she shifted her head so she could focus on the lamp on the nightstand instead, and before he could wonder if she would use it to hurt him, he saw her eyes glisten in the faint shadows of light.

"And now..." her voice wavered for a new reason entirely, "they're going to take my choice from me. And I can't do anything but wait."

A harsh laugh escaped her, her head shaking vigorously on the pillow as she shook her head and her voice dropped to something promising and threatening - "I'm going to burn them all. I'll make them all pay."

"You can't."

He could feel her glare through the dark, but he knew his words were true.

"There is no killing them. There is no escape."

"You don't know that. Not unless you've tried."

Rick lay a hand over his stumped arm, his heart sinking as he remembers all he sacrificed to escape only to stay trapped.

He doesn't say another word for the rest of the night, falling into a fitful sleep.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! There are many more to come <3. Let me know if you have any theories or ideas for what might happen next, I would love to hear them! And to the people who have been following me from the start, thank you for being patient during my long break. I hope I gave you guys something worthwhile to come back to <33.

Taglist: @hhhilloklll @bellstwd @classyunknownlover @voodoopoetry @graveyardblossom

#crm!rick grimes #rick grimes x oc #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes #rick grimes x you #the walking dead #the ones who live #twd towl #twd fanfiction #rick grimes angst #rick grimes fic #rick grimes fluff #eventual smut #twd x reader

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jrob64 · 2 years ago

Text

And now you’re engaged! 💖💖💖

A Very Disney Proposal A Birthday Fic for winterbaby89

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LAURA!!!!!

Today is the birthday of one of my besties, @winterbaby89!!! To celebrate, I’ve written her this little fic full of fluffy sweetness that will hopefully put a smile on her face!! I love you so much, my friend, and I hope you love this as much as I love you!!! 😘🥳❤️

All the love and thanks to @jrob64 for her beta expertise, @hollyethecurious for her support and advice, and to @motherkatereloyshipper for her manips of the couples I used in the artwork!

Summary: Killian Jones and David Nolan propose to their girlfriends while they are at work as Disney princesses in Walt Disney World.

Rating: G

Words: Almost 2600

Tags: Birthday Fic, Fluff, Walt Disney World, Disney Princesses, Marriage Proposal

On ao3

New tag list! Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

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#a very disney proposal #birthday fic for laura #krystal writes #art by krystal #manips by kit #ouat #captain swan #cs fic #csff #cavity inducing sweetness

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seungiee-sunshine · 1 year ago

Text

༺♥༻𝓈𝑒𝓊𝓃𝑔𝒾𝑒𝑒'𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝒸 𝓇𝑒𝒸 𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉༺♥༻

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘶𝘱𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐'𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘥𝘰. 𝘉𝘺𝘦, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴!

♥:◇:♥──◇:♥ 𝘬𝘦𝘺: f --- 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 a --- 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 m --- mature s --- suggestive

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾༓･*˚⁺‧͙✧ 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘴 ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾༓･*˚⁺‧͙✧

✿ Hide-and-Seek SCB [m] @dreamescapeswriting

✿ Say yes to Heaven HHJ [a,f,s] --- @astraystayyh

✿ Recording Sessions SCB, BC, HJS [m] @matryosika

✿ Control HJS [m] @mint-yooxgi

✿ Painting LMH, KSM [m] @tasteracha

✿ Monarchs: Blood Favor BC [m] @abiaswreck

✿ Best Friends... BC [m,a] @bangchanisinmymind

✿ Our Secret: Part Two LMH, HJS [m] @abitterboy

✿ Double Trouble YJG, LMH [m] @abiaswreck

✿ That Hufflepuff Boy LF [a,f,m] @kkami-writes

✿ August is A Fever KSM [m,f] @seungminheart

✿ Angry little guy LMH [f] @rachalixie

✿ Go Ahead and Cry KSM [m] @hyunsvngs

✿ Tutor with Benefits KSM [m] @theslut4smut

✿ Surprise! LF [f,m] @kaciidubs

✿ Trophy LMH [m] @agnesafterhours

✿ Vexation BC [m] @straykids-97

✿ Private Dance HHJ [m] @luvyeni

✿ Wakey Wakey BC [m] @sugarmelin

✿ First Rule of Fight Club BC [m] @dreamescapeswriting

✿ Close as Strangers LF [a] @jadenlix

✿ Dance for us LMH, HHJ, LF [m] @2chopsticks2eyes

✿ Alien HJS [m,f] @j-0ne25

✿ Save me LMH [m] @loveneversleepss

✿ Churchboy LF [m,a,f] @skzcollision (the whole series is awesome not just this chapter---)

✿ Amethyst BC [m,f] @pucchinpurinracha

✿ Folder 103 BC [m] @minminyoonjii

✿ Baking Lessons and Proposals YJG [f] @caseiloveu

✿ Show me how HHJ [m,f,a] @koorminii

✿ Royal Pains LMH [m] @mimziie

✿ Babysitter.com HHJ [m,f] @mnwrld

✿ Hold on Tight LF [m] @j-0ne25

✿ Bunny: pt. 2 LMH [m,f,a] @tasteleeknow pt. 1 is just as good. Read it. :)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾༓･*˚⁺‧͙✧ 𝘛𝘟𝘛 ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾༓･*˚⁺‧͙✧

☆ Soobin When He's Touch Starved [m] @majestyjun

☆ Soobin <;3<;3<3 [m] @majestyjun

✼ ҉♥✼♥ ҉✼ 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 ✼ ҉♥✼♥ ҉✼

♡ Wrong Answer JYH [a,m] @essenteez

♡ Incubus: coming of age CS [m] @byuntrash101

♡ Two is better than one SMG, JYH [m] @songmingisthighs

♡ Broken Babe CS [m] @thisthatpinkvenom

♡ off the table KHJ [m] @setsugekka

♡ Forever CS [m] @mint-yooxgi

♡ Roommate SMG [m,f] @essenteez

♡ Shared JWY, KYS, KYH [m] @thelargefrye

.・⛧⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⛧・. 𝘌𝘯𝘩𝘺𝘱𝘦𝘯.・⛧⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⛧・.

✦ Creep [m] @drunkhazed

✦ Bite me KSN [m] @luvyeni

✦ Conflict of Intrest PSH @jaylaxies

.・●*○❃○*●・𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯.・●*○❃○*●・．

● Peephole JWW [m] @rubyreduji

● May Flowers KMG [m,f] @sluttywoozi

༄ؘ+*:ꔫ:*༄ؘ𝘉𝘛𝘚༄ؘ+*:ꔫ:*༄ؘ

ꔫ The Obsidian Pearl KSJ [m] @angelicyoongie

#stray kids #skz oneshots #fic rec #recommendations #fanfic rec #kpop smut #kpop fluff #kpop angst #series #ateez #ateez fanfics #txt fanfics #txt #enhypen #seventeen #svt #bts

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5h-epilogue · 9 months ago

Text

“ . . . and as you’ve grown up, I continued with running my companies, starring in movies, making music, and I produced my play. Everyone else eventually found happiness in one way or another, thank goodness.”

Nia had wondered how her parents were so rich, how she was able to enjoy such comfortable seating out on the patio she glanced around at now that overlooked an enormous pool — the big, outdoor flower and vegetable garden to the right of it — and the patio also had two flat-screen televisions, a gourmet outdoor cooking area with a grill, and, appropriately, ceiling fans and a fire pit.

“Wow, mom. That’s . . . wow.” The young girl was in a bit of shock. She understood why a filmmaker wanted to make a movie about you. A countless amount of questions ran through her mind about you, her mother, who was considered to be a living legend.

Your beloved chef came outdoors and served you and your daughter a bowl of strawberry chicken salad, your favorite summer meal, which she now knew reminded you of your old, deceased lover, Armin Arlert.

“Thank you,” you said to the chef. “Would you mind bringing me my photo album?”

The photo album.

You mentioned it in your story.

Several minutes later, your chef returned with a brown, hardcover book that Nia had seen a countless amount of times in a reserved spot in the library, but never had she touched it. She couldn’t anyway, as it was on a pedestal display underneath protective glass.

Opening the pages, you showed her several photographs of your younger self.

“These were taken by Levi Ackerman,” you said softly.

“You look really pretty,” Nia mumbled, taking the photo album from you, as you were flipping through it too fast for her liking.

She glanced down at a selfie of you and a dark-haired man at the beach, the decades-old date catching her attention.

“Is that Levi?” She asked.

“Yes,” you replied.

Then, she saw the letter Levi had written to you. She only skimmed across it, having already known its contents from your story, and then, she explored the other pages: where Levi told you to continue filling the photo album with pictures from your past, present, and future.

There was a picture of you with a kind-looking, blonde-haired man, standing side by side in a bakery, hands covered in flour.

There was another picture of that same man in a selfie with her father, who seemed so young.

It was clearly Armin. Not only could she gather that from the details your story provided, but he was one of three people in every photo she stared at who she hadn’t seen in her entire life.

There was a photo of you and Jean in a studio together, you writing something down on a notepad as he studiously adjusted something on the soundboard mixer.

“Wait, was this CS Records or Arlert Records?”

You leaned over, looking at the photo.

“CS Records. See the date? Jean and I were more than likely working on my first few songs during the Eldian Devils tour. I can’t remember who took the picture, though.”

Nia hummed in response.

Next, there was a picture of you and Eren getting married for the first time as young artists in Las Vegas. Underneath it, there was a picture of you and Eren getting remarried in Europe.

The other photos consisted of you, Reiner, and his family the night he proposed, you and Mikasa having lunch near a bridge, a group of friends playing cards around a table, a few pictures of you on stage, on film sets, and at awards shows, Eren’s family, and other pictures of you and your friends who she lovingly recognized.

It was odd to know that, as she looked at all of the photographs of people who she had just seen last week, there were two people in some pictures who would never, ever age. The photos of Levi and Armin existed as a permanent reminder of how they will always be known.

Towards the back of the photo album, there was a picture of you with another man she didn’t recognize, but it wasn’t Levi. It wasn’t Armin.

“Is that Connie Springer?” Your daughter leaned over to show you a photograph of you and Connie dressed in suits and gowns for some sort of event.

“Yes,” you said. “That was my album release party. It was the first night Connie let me out of my bedroom after locking me away.”

“Uh,” Nia frowned. “That’s really-”

Nia interrupted her own sentence, distracted by the very last photo in the photo album.

It was a picture that was much older than the other ones. Not only did the date give it away, but the horrible camera quality as well.

It was a photo that couldn’t be found online. A photograph that was worth more than diamonds and gold.

Four young teenagers, standing in front of beautiful trees and bushes, smiling brightly, were photographed by her grandmother, Carla Yeager.

Nia read the little description below the childhood photo of Eren, Jean, Connie, and Marco: The original Eldian Devils. So long & farewell.

Below that, there was a photo of two young children trying to catch fireflies in a patch of high grass underneath a streetlight, photographed by her other grandmother, whom she had never known.

The little description below that childhood photo read: First loves. So long & farewell.

Nia closed the photo album.

“I think I’m gonna cry, Mom,” Nia started to bury her head in her hands. But then, she suddenly perked up and pushed herself out of her seat. “I gotta go see Dad!”

The young girl speed-walked through the enormous home. At this hour, she was certain where to find him.

Opening the door to the family room, there he was, strumming his guitar.

“Hi angel,” Eren smiled, soft wrinkles by his emerald eyes appeared as he greeted his beloved daughter with her favorite nickname, but upon seeing her eyes glistening with sadness, he immediately put down his guitar. “What’s wrong?”

He motioned the girl over, who quickly ran to him and sat down, wrapping her arms around him.

While he didn’t know why she was so upset, he had years of experience soothing her cries.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here,” he repeated.

Nia was a touch more sensitive and incredibly empathetic compared to the average person, that much was true, and right now, she could only think about all the pain her father experienced. The abuse. Almost dying. Losing friends.

And it hurt terribly, especially because she had only known him as the kind-hearted man who was a phenomenal father.

“I’m glad mom picked you,” Nia mumbled. “Thank you for always watching The Parent Trap with me . . . showing up to all of my shows and stuff . . . reading my papers . . . and just . . . you’re a great dad. I love you.”

“Aw, I love you too.” Eren hugged his girl even tighter. “Of course, sweetheart. Always.”

When you stepped into the room, smiling softly, Eren gave you a confused look that silently asked: What’s going on?

You held up the photo album, and he immediately understood.

Eren then motioned you over. Once you sat beside him, he kissed your forehead and wrapped his arm around you as well, holding on to the two people he cherished more than anyone or anything else in the world.

“I love you, mom. You’re so strong, and pretty amazing, too.” Nia reached out, touching your arm. “I hope I can be like you when I’m your age. Older you. Not younger you. You used to be a mess.”

For a while, the three of you sat there, hugging one another, experiencing nothing but pure love and joy.

—

A few months later, it was Thanksgiving.

The heartwarming event was hosted at your house, as it was every year, and familiar faces were gathered around the enormous dining room table covered with warm plates of food.

This year, Nia approached everyone and asked them more specific questions about their lives, wanting more details about the story she heard.

Aunt Hange was more than happy to answer just about everything after having too much wine.

Everyone was lovingly questioned by the teenager, and she shared what you had told her with their children as well.

After having dinner, Jean and his wife were sitting in the living room, playing cards with Erwin and Hange.

Reiner and his wife, who had flown in from Tennessee, were socializing with Annie, her girlfriend, and Sasha — who brought her husband, Niccolo, and their son.

Nia hung out in the recreation room with Reiner’s three children, who both had hair as blonde as his and were slightly younger than she was.

Mikasa, who had settled down in Washington after seeing the world, wanting to be closer to her friends and family, was telling you and Eren about one Thanksgiving year that she had spent lost in the middle of a forest.

A little while afterward, once dinner, laughter, and board games came to an end, Eren found you outside on the patio, staring at the glowing fireplace.

“Hi, baby. Everyone’s gone,” Eren sat down beside you. “Nia’s asleep, or she’s pretending to be, I’m not sure.”

“She’s probably tired, so I’m guessing she's actually asleep,” you said with a grin. “Today was fun. I miss everyone already.”

“Me too,” Eren smiled softly. “I’m glad everyone’s doing well. I hope it stays that way.”

“It will,” you suddenly yawned.

“Come on,” Eren stood up and reached his hand out, and you took it. “Let’s get ready for bed.”

“Someone’s excited to cuddle, huh?” You teased, expecting him to deny it, but proudly, he grinned wider and said, “Of course I am, so hurry up.”

After having a shower together, you and Eren both cuddled up in bed, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

That night, you dreamt of your past — making cinnamon rolls in a bakery and staring at stars from a rooftop.

It was a dream that you often had, but not out of regret. Not out of pain. But out of reflection of just how much you healed. How much your life had changed.

There were some people you wished you could bring back — Armin and Levi.

Some questions went unanswered — who your stalker was all those years ago, and whether it was a stranger or a lover.

But, even so, after having five husbands, and after every beautiful experience and painful memory, you could finally say that you had found contentment, and your one true love was the happiness you experienced as you grew old with your friends and family by your side.

— ONE MONTH LATER —

Five years.

That’s how long Eren had been trying his hardest to visit Connie in prison.

And a month after having Thanksgiving dinner with his family and friends, Connie allowed him to come.

What a stubborn man Connie was, but Eren’s persistence had won.

Eren couldn’t lie. He was nervous. The last time he laid eyes on the CS Records owner, he was testifying against him in court, both of them as young men. Both of them wishing that the other person would simply fall over and die.

But now, as the man in his forties sat in an uncomfortable chair in a private room, waiting for Connie to arrive on the other side of the thick glass, he couldn’t help but wonder what made Connie finally allow him to visit.

But he wouldn’t have to wonder much longer.

His leg, which shook with anticipation, halted its movement when a door opened and a prisoner was escorted out in chains, two correctional officers standing at his side.

It was him. Connie Springer.

Eren’s brows unintentionally furrowed, his face twitching as he fought the urge to both smile and frown.

It was Connie — the same man that tried to take his life. A murderer. Torturer. And yet, it was Connie, his old childhood friend who had aged just as he did, and despite being behind bars, he looked rather well.

If Connie was as shocked to see Eren after years upon years, Eren couldn’t tell, as the prisoner simply blinked at him as he was escorted to his seat on the other side of the glass, his face expressionless. Intimidating.

And he just stared at Eren.

The former musician was the first one to pick up the phone hanging on the wall to communicate. Connie did so as well a few moments later.

Pressing the phone to his ear, Eren’s emotional, shiny eyes darted away from Connie’s, down at the new tattoo on Connie’s left arm, and back up at him.

“Hey,” Eren spoke first.

Connie didn’t respond.

He just stared at Eren.

“I’m here because I wanted to see how you were doing,” Eren spoke yet again.

Connie’s chains rattled as he shifted in his seat.

He just stared at Eren.

With a frown, Eren questioned, “Why did you let me come visit you if you weren’t going to talk to me?”

“You didn’t give me a choice. I thought you’d give up . . . after five fucking years.”

Finally.

Eren couldn’t help but smile a bit. Hearing his voice again after forgetting what it sounded like was rather startling.

“You only said yes so I’d leave you alone?” Eren asked.

“Yeah.”

“Alright. I’ll take what I can get,” Eren softly sighed. “I never thought that I’d ever want to see you again, but here I am.”

“You really did all this to check on me?” Connie’s question was fired rather abruptly, nearly cutting off Eren’s sentence. “I put a bullet through your chest. I’m the reason you only have eight fingers left. I killed your friends, and I could keep naming shit I’ve done. Why are you here?”

Eren glanced away, adjusting the dark green phone in his hand.

“Time heals all wounds.”

“That something your therapist came up with?”

“Yeah.”

The corner of Connie’s mouth twitched as, this time, he was the one fighting the urge to smile.

“What I’m trying to say is that I can’t forgive you for what you did to Armin and Levi, and it’s not my place to or not to. But I forgive you for what you did to me.” Eren’s eyes glistened with subtle sadness. “I guess I’m just hoping that after all this time . . . after all we’ve been through . . . I can talk to my friend again. Not CS Records owner, Connie Springer, but my friend. I haven’t spoken to him since I was fifteen, and I woke up with two new gray hairs today.”

It was a soft noise, one that was very brief and vanished as soon as it had arrived, but Connie chuckled.

“You’re saying some corny stuff, man.”

Eren’s smile brightened. “That’s what happens when you have a kid. All I do now is think of dad jokes, and try to-”

“You have a kid?”

Eren’s face faltered in utter confusion, but as he stared at Connie’s slightly shocked face, he could tell that the man wasn’t messing around.

Nia’s birth was worldwide news. It was a steady hot topic for an entire year — one would have thought that a new member of the royal family had been born.

But then, Eren realized that for the most part, behind bars, the outside world ceased to exist. Especially in maximum security facilities.

“Yeah,” Eren said. “I have a daughter. She turned fourteen a month ago.”

“Is her mom around? Who’s she?”

“Her mom is Y/N. And, yeah, she’s around. We’ve been married for years.”

“Seriously?” Connie couldn’t hide the shock and surprise. A look of amusement appeared upon his face as he raised his eyebrows. “Well, uh . . . congratulations. How’s Y/N?”

Eren couldn’t help but smile as he thought about you, his beautiful wife. “She’s good. She’s great. Her companies are still going strong, and she’s finally happy.”

“Didn’t wanna come see me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Connie nodded.

Then, his face fell into a small frown, hazel eyes darting down to the corner of the glass, staring at nothing in particular.

“How’s Jean doing?”

“Jean’s fine. He’s retired from music. He married a pianist.” Eren paused. “Everyone else is doing fine too. Reiner has kids and a wife, and they all have Southern accents — it’s funny to hear. Mikasa finally . . .”

For a while, Connie listened to Eren ramble on about the progressive lives of the people he once knew.

As his old friend spoke, he couldn’t help but wonder how his life would have turned out if he had made different choices.

Sadness pricked at his heart, sending a small ache throughout his body.

If only he wasn’t such an idiot back then.

No. He was worse than an idiot.

He was a monster.

“What about you, Connie? I know you’re locked up, but how are they treating you here? Knowing you, you probably run this place, huh?”

Truth be told, Connie was rather surprised to know Eren cared. It was just as touching as it was shocking.

“Damn right,” Connie said.

And it was true, but not in the way one would imagine.

He intimated who he needed to. Ruined lives when he needed to. But, over the nearly two decades he had been behind bars, he had done it solely to stick up for the defenseless prisoners, both young and old, who didn’t deserve to be treated as he once was when he was locked up the first time.

It wasn’t some change of heart that had occurred over the last several years, either.

From the very first day he entered as a younger man, he was both starting fights and finishing them to protect others.

He couldn’t explain why he did such things. It was no secret that he didn’t mind letting other people get hurt, considering he excelled at harming others, but this was different.

Somehow, it just was.

“Can I ask you something? And be honest with me,” Eren paused, carefully thinking over his words before he dared to utter them. “Do you regret it? Any of it?”

Connie ran his hand down his lower face.

It was a difficult question, and not because he didn’t know the answer, because he did, but rather, he wasn’t sure if the truth was an acceptable response.

Telling the truth meant showing weakness. Losing power.

Letting go of that mentality was rather difficult, especially behind bars where weakness was preyed on.

But he didn’t care about those former beliefs anymore. He was getting too old for such stupidity.

“Telling you I regret it will give you closure, right?”

“Surely you want closure too.”

“I regret everything.” The prisoner looked into his old friend’s eyes as he spoke. “I wish I . . .” He clenched his jaw. He couldn’t speak anymore — but there were, perhaps, no words in the English language that could properly express what he felt in his heart.

“Well, uh, how about this,” The other man sniffled softly as spoke. “You’ll have to be under constant supervision, but, in a few years, how about we work on getting you out of here . . . letting you see the sun again? What do you say?”

Fighting the urge to cry was an incredibly difficult battle. The prisoner nodded, his teary eyes shining with guilt and hope, and the other man nodded along with him.

“Okay, well,” the former musician smiled sadly, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

The visit ended with goodbyes and promises that they both intended to keep. Your dear husband couldn’t be certain what the future held, but as he did the day he first met you all those years ago, approaching you backstage with great curiosity, he’d trust his gut.

For it had led him to his one true love, and he’d listen to it — always.

Thanks for reading! What did you think? Please let me know by like, reblogging, and/or commenting on the last chapter, or in my inbox!

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ouatsnark · 3 months ago

Note

rewatching the cs proposal (6x17) anyone who says he didn't truly love or care about emma is INSANE, that has to be the best tv proposal of all time!!!!

Anyone who says that missed the fact that the entire arc was dedicated to Emma and Killian's true love for each other.

The entire arc leading up to that proposal was about the two of them fighting against the impossible to get back to each other. Killian risked everything and traded his home AGAIN just to ensure her safety. If that isn't love then I don't know what it is.

#fandom asks #ouat 6x17

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adaptacy · 1 year ago

Text

Johnny Slaughter Pregnancy H/Cs Pt.1

Cw: Mentions of trauma, angst, but also fluff and him being pretty cute for an (ex)cannibal, older Johnny, post-Sawyers

Important Notes:

He'd left the Sawyers a long time ago. Almost three years now. Things had gotten shady- shadier than ever. Police got involved. He had to split. And he'd moved to Georgia of all places. Close enough that he was still in familiar climates, far enough that he was removed from the interference.

He didn't know what happened to the rest of 'em. Probably for the best. He'd gotten a job as a butcher, of course. It was what he was good at- carving, skinning, etc. And it paid the bills. And introduced him to you.

About a year after he'd moved, the two of you met in the shop. Johnny had been assigned to cover the register for the day since the usual coworker was gone, and you'd happened to show up that day as it was the shop you frequented when you went on grocery trips.

The interaction went as you'd expect. You asked for what you needed, and he gave it to you. You also asked if he was new, and what happened to George, the usual man behind the counter. Johnny explained that he was out sick, so he was covering for him. You found his accent amusing, since it was different than what you were used to. You asked where he was from. He said Georgia. You didn't believe him.

And you left with a kind goodbye. Didn't see him again for another two months. Didn't really think about him. Until you found him in a bar, and recognized him. The two of you chatted, and he ended up asking you on a date. Things only went uphill from there. You got along really well with him.

Well enough that, now, a little over two years later, the two of you lived together, and you were almost 6 months pregnant with his child. You didn't know a lot about his past. You knew he'd been born in Texas and didn't really know his parents. He said he'd been in a foster house, but wasn't ever adopted. He never said anything more. It seemed to be a sensitive subject for him, so you didn't really bother prying.

Overall, he was really sweet. Intimidating as hell, and had a sinister smirk, but you'd never seen him be aggressive or violent in any way. He was like a really cuddly teddy bear. A great example as to why you shouldn't judge a book by its muscular cover.

While the two of you weren't engaged, he definitely was planning on proposing. But he didn't want to stress you out- he wanted to wait until after the baby was born. He was actually quite looking forward to having a kid, but he was also very anxious about it.

Pregnancy Head-canons (SFW):

He was unsure at first. When you told him, he had no idea how to react. He put on a smile, but you could see through it. However, you didn't want to upset him, and decided it was best to give him time to process it before you overwhelmed him.

Truth was, he was scared of having a kid. He was scared for you- His own biological mom had been killed, and while he knew that it was a freak situation, he couldn't not worry about the same happening to you. In some twisted way, he worried that somehow his past would come back to bite him in the ass. And that you'd get involved.

He had occasional thoughts of running before you were pregnant. He felt that, even if something terrible happened, if he somehow was found by the cops, he could just leave you. That he could run, and protect you. But now that you were pregnant with his baby, there was no more running. And that scared him. He never would've wanted to leave you, but it was comforting to know that it was an option. It didn't feel like an option anymore.

He also wasn't sure he could be a good father. His 'family' was batshit crazy, and they'd raised him the same. What if he passed on bad traits to your kid? What if he was an awful dad and turned his kid into a psycho like him?

He'd been doing better, of course- Johnny stopped killing people, he had to. At first, he'd told himself that he'd just lay low and go back to it once the cops were less a problem, but after the first couple months, he got used to it. Got used to normal meat, to normal diets, and he found he had a lot more free time when he wasn't chasing victims around all the time.

Even so, he still worried that he'd somehow manage to make a psychotic cannibal even when he was far from it. Or that his kid would have his anger issues, or his anxiety, or somehow have his trauma- he didn't want to put that weight on anyone else. And he didn't want you to have to see that.

But eventually, Johnny warmed up to the idea. especially when you started showing a tiny baby bump. He loved how certain shirts wouldn't quite come all the way down your stomach anymore, and even if you complained about it, it gave him some... really sweet, sickeningly domestic feeling. A feeling he'd never even dreamed of.

Despite everything, he was a family man. His family was the only thing he knew growing up. And while his was a mess, and left him worse for wear in the end, he still suffered from a constantly feeling of loneliness. He was so used to constantly being surrounded by, irritated, and cared about by family, and when he was living on his own, he lacked that completely. Moving in with you certainly helped, and now that there was going to be a third in the house, it actually reassured him a bit. He'd still be able to build family bonds, and with biological family this time. Plus, you weren't a psycho, so that definitely helped.

Because of this, he grew very attached to the baby once he got over his initial worries. He'd still have the occasional intrusive thoughts, but they were rare and he was able to push them out of his mind. He wanted a family with you, and he was going to have one.

But, Jesus fucking Christ, you were so goddamn careless. You acted the exact same, did the exact same activities, you lived life precisely how you did before you were pregnant, and Johnny was surprisingly overprotective of you and the baby. He refused to let you go to the bar or have even the slightest drop of anything alcoholic, and you'd expressed your frustrations that he was still allowed to drink but you weren't.

So? He stopped drinking. And then you came out one day to share a cig with him, and he'd practically carried you back inside because he didn't want you anywhere around cigarette smoke. You didn't really believe that cigarettes and drinking could have that bad of an effect, and you didn't do them all that often anyways. But Johnny refused to take any risks. He wanted to give your kid everything that Johnny didn't receive growing up, and that started with making sure you were as healthy as possible.

It wasn't long before he gave up smoking, too. It was tough, for both of you- really tough, actually, but you managed to make it through. If he could give up slaughtering and being a cannibal, he could give up cigs, and he knew you could too.

When the morning sickness started, he swore that you were dying. You had to reassure him constantly that it was fine, but only when your doctor also reassured him of this did he finally let it go. Still, he made sure to get whatever anti-nausea remedies possible, since you 'needed to keep the food inside of you' for the baby.

Oh, that too. He made meals. on meals. on meals. on meals. He was still a butcher, so he got first pick of the meats, and he loved bragging that he cut it himself. It was actually really cute to see someone so muscular and manly in the kitchen seasoning chicken and making salads. He was a really good cook. Wonder where he learned that...

Pregnancy cravings he would do his best to fuel, and while you joked about how he should try them with you, he refused. Listen- he could stomach a lot, but pickles in ice cream? Absolutely the fuck not. He could hardly watch you eat it, and he was a fucking cannibal for most of his life. But, he still provided them nonetheless.

Listen, the baby bump was one thing, but when you really started showing and started complaining about the baby kicking, he was at a loss for words. He didn't even know that was something that the baby could do at this stage. Well, to be fair, he didn't really know anything about pregnancy since he was the youngest in his family, but he could've assumed most of it. Other than the baby kicking. He'd ask over and over again if you were sure it wasn't just a stomach ache, or if you'd eaten something wrong.

In order to reassure him, you'd grab his wrists and put his palms against your belly. "What are you doin'?" "Just wait..." "Sweetpea, I'm serious, maybe we should go to the doct-" A pause. He looked between you and your belly. "Feel it?" "That... that was it?" "Mhm. That's our baby."

Rest assured, the first thing he did any time you mentioned the kicks in the future was reach to feel it himself. There was something about feeling the kicks that just... made him happy. Pleased him. Maybe it was knowing that your kid was healthy, or the fact that feeling it meant it was really happening- it just made the entire thing feel more real to him.

Around the 7 and a half month mark, he refused to let you do anything by yourself.

Getting food? "Nah, darlin' I can get it. Just stay here, I'll be right back."

Dropped something? "Don't- Don't go bendin' over, yer gonna fall, or hurt yerself. Where'd ya drop it? I'll get it."

Showering? "Hold onto my arm- I gotcha, sweetpea. How bout I run a bath fer ya? Make ya more comfortable."

Changing clothes? Well, he kind of already was there for that since he liked seeing you naked, especially with a baby bump, but you get the point. No matter what you were doing, he was there, doing his best to help you, even if it was pretty unnecessary sometimes.

Part 2 coming soon! Tumblr just has a word limit. Domestic fluff Johnny makes me so happy <333

#tcm game #johnny slaughter #johnny tcm #johnny slaughter fluff #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny slaughter headcanons #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter tcm #johnny slaughter x reader fluff #tcm game fluff #Adapting to Johnny Slaughter

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gyupremacy · 2 years ago

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Kiss & Make Up | cs.

↳ Pairing: choi san x fem!reader

↳ Genre: smut, fluff, angst, established relationship

↳ Au(s): slice of life

↳ Rating: 18+

↳ Word Count: 2.1k

↳ Warning(s): cursing, mentions of past cheating (not san), argument, mention of parental divorce, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), missionary, t*tjob, dirty talk, fondling

↳ Summary: Your fiancé San hasn't been as active in the preparations for your upcoming wedding, and it's starting to get to you. Tensions rise after an argument about the subject.

↳ a/n: Hi, everyone! April's been a pretty busy month for me, with preparing for finals and personal conflicts, but I'm back with another fic. Thanks to @hwasrie for beta-ing and @snoozeagustd for creating the banner!

This is my submission for k-vanity’s "Idols Over Flowers" event.

Main flowers: roses (romance), violets (angst), marigold (hurt comfort), fresia (slice of life)

Supporting flowers: amaranthus (marriage & co)

Greenery: myrtle (soul mates)

Ribbons: band of satin (weddings)

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

"What do you think of this, baby?" you said, turning the bridal magazine around to show your fiancé.

"I think it looks beautiful! I like the style," San responded, barely glancing at the photo.

He was more focused on you, more importantly, how you were straddling his waist in the bed as you frantically flipped through pages.

"Come on! You already said that about that last one I showed you," you huffed in frustration.

"Well, I'm sorry, Y/N. I just don't see why you're dead set on finding a dress so soon," San remarked.

He had a point, whether you admitted it or not. He proposed to you on Valentine's Day, and you still hadn't made a decision on the date you'd tie the knot.

"It's not just about finding a dress. It's about finding the dress," you began.

"Many girls dream about their wedding day, and I'm one of them."

You sighed dreamily, looking at a ballgown style that caught your interest. Seeing the expensive price, you quickly moved onto the next page.

"Well… if it means anything, I think you would look really sexy in a mermaid gown," San chuckled.

"One that accentuates your body really nicely."

His voice went down to a whisper, and he soon sat up in the bed. Soft kisses were placed from your shoulder to your neck.

"Sannie… don't start," you warned.

"What? I can't imagine what my gorgeous bride will look like on our wedding day?" His hands trailed down your hips, then down your legs.

"As much as I would like to spend the resting of the morning making sweet music with you, I need to take a shower," you laughed, getting up to go to the bathroom.

"Maybe I could j-" San began before you stopped him mid sentence.

"Don’t even think about it, Choi."

After the long shower, you got dressed in a crop top and leggings since you were about to do your daily yoga routine.

San was in the kitchen making breakfast for the both of you (an omelet for him and a pastry for you). He topped it all off with some fresh fruit on your plate and green tea.

"My baby is back from the shower!" San beamed.

"And my baby made me breakfast," You gave him a kiss before grabbing the plate off the counter.

He sat beside you and began to feed you the pieces of fruit from your plate. You made it a point to purposely suck on his finger after you finished one bite.

"Mmm… so delicious," you moaned out.

"You're playing with fire, princess," San whispered.

"Let's hope you don't get burned then," you teased, going to take a bite out of your pastry.

The rest of the time was spent completely devouring the meal your fiancé prepared, but you were still thinking about the conversation earlier.

You and San had arguments like any other couple, though you didn't want to call what happened earlier with the dress an "argument", but it did bother you that a proper date for the nuptials wasn't set.

"San? About the dress…" you were about to tell him that it was fine that he wasn't as enthusiastic about it as you were, but was stopped by him speaking.

"Really, Y/N? We're still on about that damn dress?" San laughed, wanting not to focus on it.

"What? No, I was going to say that it was cool that you didn't see it as much of a priority right now," you said.

"Almost like you don't see the wedding being a priority."

You muttered that last part, not thinking he would hear it. You didn't actually mean this, but you were so frustrated at his seemingly lack of commitment towards preparations that you needed to get it out.

"Excuse me?" San said, dropping his fork on the counter.

"Did you just say that I don't think this wedding is a priority?"

"It certainly feels like it. Anytime I bring up wedding stuff, you clam up and avoid the conversation," you remarked, folding your arms.

"Because I thought it would be a compromise. It's like you've already made decisions on the wedding and just want me to go along with them," San gets up from the stool and walks towards the door.

"Where are you going?" you said, going towards him.

"I'm going to hang out with the boys," he responded nonchalantly.

"Of course you are," you muttered.

San didn't even waste his breath, just shutting the door on his way out. You sighed, going back to clean the dishes that were left.

Once finished, you got your yoga mat from the side of the couch and rolled it onto the floor. Hoping to clear your mind for a few hours, you turned your meditation music on, wanting to block out the rest of the world.

Hours had passed, and you had slipped out of your workout attire into something more comfortable. You grabbed your robe from the bathroom closet and put it on, tying the cloth belt around your waist.

San was scrolling through his phone on the bed. He had come home from his afternoon with the guys an hour ago, not speaking a word to you.

The tension was eating you up inside, so you walked towards the bed and made your way next to him.

"Hey," you greeted nervously.

"Hi," San said, turning to the side to look at you.

"So… um… I'm sorry about what I said earlier," you started.

"I shouldn't have said you didn't see the wedding as a priority. I just… want everything to be perfect."

You started fiddling with your fingers and took a deep breath before continuing on.

"My parents… didn't have the happiest of marriages. The loud arguments, the cheating, having to witness all of that was just - " your voice began to crack, and that's when San sat up from the bed and brought you into an embrace.

"It's okay, baby," he soothed.

"My mom deserved a better partner, a better relationship as a whole, and I try to compensate for that with our relationship," you finished.

"I know how much this wedding means to you, but you're going to burn yourself out if you keep pushing yourself to such high standards," San explained.

"You're an amazing woman, and you've been through so much to be able to become the woman I chose to spend the rest of my life with."

"San, I appreciate your words, but sometimes I feel like I can become too much for you. Almost as if I have to try and prove how much I love you to keep you satisfied," you revealed.

"Y/N… never in the entirety of our relationship have I not been satisfied or happy," he assured.

"You've made me a better man, and making a relationship work is a joint effort."

"Your feelings are valid, but if you ever feel that there is some form of miscommunication, you can always come to me," San said, bringing your hands in his and pressing a kiss on them.

"I love you, Y/N. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that earlier," San apologized.

"I have too much respect for you and our relationship to let it go because of our feelings at that moment."

You began to cry tears of happiness, feeling all the love and adoration the man in front of you had for yourself. He brought his thumb up to wipe them away.

"Perfect is boring, my love. Just being with you is enough," San smiled lovingly, showing his signature dimples.

"Choi San, you're my everything," you responded, bringing your hands up to hold his face.

You both lean in close and kiss each other with such palpable affection. San brought his hands down to your waist, pressing his hands firmly against your hips.

"I can't help myself whenever I'm around you, Y/N," San whispered.

"You're so gorgeous, and I can't wait until you're mine forever."

Butterflies formed in your stomach, both from his words and the way he was kissing down your neck. His hands wandered your body some more, grabbing your butt and carefully placing you against the pillows.

San repositioned himself, straddling your body for a moment before becoming eye level with the belt on your robe.

"What is my princess hiding underneath here, huh?" San teased.

San bit his lip, looking at your bashful demeanor, making it his mission to find out what was underneath. He untied the robe hastily, soon looking at the purple lace lingerie on your body.

"Surprise," you whispered out, watching his eyes widen before an all too familiar grin appeared.

"Oh, baby… you don't know what you've gotten yourself into," San said, grazing his hand over your underwear.

His thumb rubbed your sweet spot, causing you to let out soft whimpers until he slid the lace garment to the side. San kissed your slit before diving his tongue inside.

"Fuck! Sannie, that feels so good!" You moaned.

San giggled as a response, continuing to lap you up like his life depended on it. He hummed against your lips, licking your juices and keeping his hands firm on your thigh.

You ran your fingers through his hair and leaned your head back in pleasure.

"I must be doing an amazing job if you're making those sounds, baby," San smiled, taking in your blissed out appearance.

"Y-You could s-say that," you managed to moan out as he continued working wonders with his tongue.

San brought his lips to your bundle of nerves, taking his time to suck it and watch you unravel for him.

"You're about to come, baby? Let it out all for me," San said softly.

"Oh shit! I'm so close!" You screamed out before your orgasm surged through your entire body, causing you to shake underneath your fiancé.

As you came down from your daze, San tapped your shoulder for you to switch positions with him so that you were the one on top this time.

"As much as I would love for you to return the favor, Y/N, I just want to be inside of you," San moaned, gesturing to the noticeable bulge in his sweatpants.

You obliged, pulling down his sweatpants and underwear. His member sprung up and pressed a kiss to the tip before sliding your underwear down.

You guided your slit over his and slid down on him, tilting your head back once you feel him inside of you. San grabbed hold of your hips, watching as you bounced on top of him.

"Yes! Right there!" You moaned.

"Feels so good, baby! Ride it out!" San grunted, letting you control the pace.

He placed his hands behind you, unhooking your bra, letting it fall to the floor.

"I can never get tired of these," San said, fondling your chest.

"Oh yeah? Then how about this?" You stopped grinding on him and moved to jerk his member.

You licked up and down his shaft, taking the tip into your mouth and savoring all of your juices. San thought he'd burst at the sight, but that's when you caught him by surprise.

Taking a hold of his member, you slid it in between your chest and squeezed them snugly together. Your fiancé's eyes began to roll back in pleasure.

"Mmm… they're so soft and pretty. Just like that!" San groaned.

He was leaking from the tip, and you knew he was about to come, so you increased the speed of strokes, paired with the stimulation from your cleavage.

"Y/N, I'm about to come!" San gasped out until the clear liquid oozed out, landing on your chest.

You made a show of sticking your tongue out and lapping up whatever you could reach.

"Did you like that, baby?" You smiled, moving to sit up on your knees.

"I think you know the answer to that," San said, running his fingers through his hair and catching his breath.

You got up and grabbed a washcloth to wipe yourself off as he put the rest of his clothes on. When you returned to the bed, San snuggled up with you and kissed your forehead.

"September 16th." He said abruptly.

"Huh?" You asked.

"That's the date I want to make you mine," he reached out to caress your cheek.

Your eyes lit up with excitement as you couldn't stop picturing what the day would look like.

"Guess I'll have to continue on with finding the dress," you laughed.

"And the flowers, the venue, the cake, the time…" San said, counting his fingers to prove his point.

"You'll be helping me every step of the way, San," you kissed him, getting up once more to go into the shower.

You throw a glance back at San, giggling at his confused expression.

"What?" San questioned.

"Well, aren't you coming in?"

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

#wkcnet #kvanity #kidolflowers #choi san smut #choi san fluff #choi san angst #choi san imagines #san smut #san fluff #san angst #san imagines #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez imagines #gyupremacy

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pillowspace · 1 year ago

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Hi! I have a stupid question.

If ur CS Eclipse wore glasses, how would they look like? Would it be like, Mike Wazowski style? I wouldnt bother with individual lenses with that many eyes, so just, ducktaping spyglass to his fance and move with their day!

AllrighT THATS ABOUT IT HAVE A NICE DAY BAYYY

I'm literally just re-using a drawing. SO, I PROPOSE TO YOU... 3 LENSES IN FUNKY SHAPES! He looks like a scuba diver

#ask #celestial sundown au #[csd art tag]

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kats-fic-recs · 2 years ago

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The Best Haikyuu fics I read in 2022

Iwaoi

Lost in Translation

Because misfortune come in threes, Iwaizumi Hajime starts his Thursday having a screaming fight with Shittykawa, spends his lunch break listening to the UCI women's volleyball team gossiping about how Ushijima Wakatoshi had gone public about his longtime love affair with Oikawa Tooru, and closes out the day by drunkenly dropping his phone into a sewer grate.

just hear me out

To stimulate Japan's low birthrates and take most of the guesswork out of dating, a beeper system was biologically developed in people's wrists, an audible confirmation to show romantic compatibility.

Iwaizumi's beeper has been going off for Oikawa since they've been kids. Oikawa's has only ever been silent.

In Defense of Reptiles (and Other Gross Things)

In their seventh year, Oikawa is chosen to be the Hogwarts champion in the Triwizard Tournament, and Iwaizumi suffers.

to be first, to be best

Hajime is apparently something of a masochist, and as he stares down at the tie-dyed AREA51 T-shirt in his hands, he thinks “I’m totally in love with this asshole, aren't I?”

evergreen

It’s exhausting to realize that he still knows Oikawa. He has no idea what stores Oikawa shops at anymore, which bands he’s been listening to lately, whether he still keeps plants in his apartment and whether they’re dying without Iwaizumi around to remind him to water them. But he knows how rain tastes on Oikawa’s lips in the summer and the drumbeat baseline of Oikawa’s heart under his palm, and there are some people you never really grow out of no matter how many other things change.

“When you left,” Iwaizumi says, swallowing against a scratchy throat, “I tried hard, for a long time, not to need you. You can’t blame me for being angry that it was easier for you to leave than it was for me to let you go.”

Ten years after he rejected Iwaizumi's marriage proposal, Oikawa is back in Sendai.

no love like your love

It happens when Daniel is rushing from the food court to the CS building, juggling his phone and a water bottle and a Panda Express takeout container. His lunch date with the cute girl from French class had gone longer than it should have, and he’s too worried about being late to pay any mind to the incoming call that flashes across his screen. Beyond noting that the number is international, he thinks nothing of it, declines, and moves on.

The person calls again, though, in the middle of the lecture, and he has to scramble to silence his phone before his professor can single him out.

By the time the period is over, he has five more missed calls and a text.

From: +81-XXX-XXX-XXXX

is this daniel? iwa-chan’s roommate? call me back when you’re available!!

Sometimes a love is so bright that those outside it can't help but bear witness.

Or: Iwaizumi and Oikawa from 5 + 1 points of view through the years.

heaven is a place in my head

For Iwaizumi, it’s a relief to be able to linger in the cocoon of this intermediate summer, blanketed from the buffeting winds of adulthood and responsibility and real decisionmaking. He would love nothing more than for it to stretch out and out and out, like a bubblegum bubble that spreads itself thin around the air trapped inside it until it pops.

But Oikawa has never liked having nothing to do. He gets restless if he’s bored for too long, starts feeling like he’s running out of time or something dumb like that. So Iwaizumi is almost expecting it when Oikawa barges into his room the afternoon of a heavy summer shower, overgrown bangs dripping rainwater into his eyes, a waterlogged piece of paper crumpled in his fist and a familiar hopeful gleam in his eyes.

When Oikawa convinces Iwaizumi to spend their last summer in Japan as camp counselors, Iwaizumi is prepared for bug bites, sunburns, and rowdy children.

He’s not prepared to spend two weeks kissing his best friend in what might just be the worst thought-out summer fling in existence.

— with melting wax and loosened strings

"If Oikawa is Hajime’s home — is Japan — then this room is his shrine. And Oikawa stands in the centre of it, eyes wide and mouth agape."

Hajime is a visual artist. He's been in love with Oikawa for such a long time that his hands know every curve and bend to Oikawa's figure. But now, with thousands of kilometres and hours between them, Iwaizumi is starting to forget Oikawa's features. It's enough to send him spiralling.

Or, 'Devotion, (2020, colourised)'.

Look For Him

She laughs gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so heartbroken before, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi sighs and prods at the mackerel with a chopstick. “Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s just different, you know? Like Oikawa pissed me off so much that now he’s not here I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“But you weren’t always annoyed with him, were you?” his grandmother smiles serenely and takes a sip of her tea. “My, my, Hajime, old women see everything. I saw you out there with my finches, when you were kissing Tooru’s nose. Your mother and father used to do the very same thing, you know, when they were younger. And look how long they’ve lasted. I hope you and Tooru last, Hajime. He’s very good for you.”

Oikawa has kissed Iwaizumi more times than either of them can count; it’s a constant thing, their lips never really leaving the other’s skin. There are, however, times when they’ve kissed that are burned into their memories. Eight of them, to be precise.

Cup of sugar

After about a month of his time in Irvine, the first package arrives. It’s standing there, on the table, big and heavy and exuding a familiarity that nearly brings tears to Hajime’s eyes.

“That’s really sweet,” Kevin says, eyeing Hajime’s valiant attempts to cut into the cardboard with a knife, “from your family?”

“My boyfriend,” Hajime clarifies, eyes not even straying to the return address. “That idiot’s the only one who would send me something after one month of being apart.”

Tooru and Hajime go long-distance, and Hajime contemplates whether he's accidentally become a sugar baby.

iwaizumi hajime has a ring

Iwaizumi Hajime has a ring on his finger.

A simple gold band with modest silver trimming resting snuggly on the fourth finger of his left hand.

Hajime is only 23 years old, is only in the midst of the second year of his post-graduate degree, and to Charlie’s apparently outdated knowledge, has been single at the very least since his move to America a little over a year ago.

Imagine his surprise when the dude came waltzing back after a month-long break, with a wedding ring on his finger, legally wed, and not speaking a word about it.

In which Hajime gets married and his friends in California have no idea who the lucky woman is.

KuroKen

And if you leave, will you promise you'll find your way back to me?

“Then it’s settled,” Kuroo says. “I’m going to call you every day, until you get sick of me.”

I could never get sick of you, Kenma thinks but doesn’t say. I think it’s going to be the other way around.

Or: the one where Kuroo goes to university and Kenma tries to deal with missing him, perhaps more than one should miss their best friend.

Show A Little Faith

“Why are you sending me a singing Valentine telegram?" Kenma asks, mouth flattened. "It’s six months until Valentine’s Day.”

“I bought a dwarf over the summer to use as cupid.” Kuroo says. “I figured he could use some practice.”

Presenting Kenma as the Boy-Who-Lived, whose living becomes a lot more interesting when Ravenclaw Prince Kuroo Tetsurou starts sending him singing telegrams about defeating the Dark Lord.

you're the brake lines failing (as my car swerves off the freeway)

Kenma thinks that Kuroo looks ugly with his head bent against the arm of the couch like that. Then Kenma thinks that he wants to marry him, and is promptly thrown into the 5 stages of grief.

the book of love is long and boring

“Since when did you become the all-knowing authority on love,” Kuroo teases as he rests his chin on Kenma’s bed, and Kenma bristles before a frown mars his face.

Because it’s not like Kuroo’s wrong.

Kenma's never really thought much about love, until an assignment from class forces him to. And then suddenly, it's the only thing that's on his mind.

teach me the way home

Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because —

because — I don’t know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Kuroo and Kenma grow up in transit.

My Nameless World (I’ll Let You In)

It’s a modest two-bedroom in the western suburbs, far enough from the bustling crowds to be affordable but still counting, technically, as Tokyo. They’re noisy before they sleep but quiet when they rise, shuffling mutedly out of the door for joint morning runs before bursting back into the apartment for joint morning showers. Shouyou cooks breakfast while Kageyama packs their lunch and gym bags, and they never share a goodbye kiss because they always leave together.

It’s warm and cozy and disgustingly domestic, and it’s probably everything Shouyou’s ever dreamed of.

Except, Kenma thinks irately, Kageyama doesn’t actually live here.

===

Shouyou moves in with Kenma when he ends up in Tokyo for college. Kenma subsequently realizes that half the things in Shouyou’s boxes are actually Kageyama’s because he should have fucking known.

Kagehina

well, maybe i'm a crook

The thing is-- Hinata is in love with Kageyama and everyone knows it, including Kageyama.

by this time next year

"I got offers from two universities," Kageyama announces, pointing at his chest with his thumb. "I'm going to play volleyball at Keio this spring."

"You still have to pass an exam, even if it's an easy one," Takeda-sensei hurries to add, although he is beaming and bursting with pride at his fluffy little crow chick taking off to play volleyball at a university level.

"I'll pass," Kageyama says with the same kind of confidence he uses when he tells Hinata he'll get the toss to him. He looks straight at Hinata, and Hinata jerks and turns red, wondering if maybe Kageyama knew he was daydreaming about something as stupid as the way Kageyama talks to him during a game. But then Kageyama just points at him and says, "You'd better get in, too."

Hinata, stupid, naive, idiot that he is, grins wide and nods and says, "Yeah!"

He doesn't know what he's in for.

Bokuaka

daisy rings and frivolous things (i am deliriously in love with you)

Akaashi Keiji is in love. Bokuto Koutarou is a star. Everyone on Fukurodani has a gambling problem.

paper rings

Akaashi Keiji knows his relationship with Bokuto Koutarou has an expiration date. It was inevitable. Even the best things must end. Especially with Bokuto's dreams of volleyball stardom on the line, they don't have any other choice. Akaashi has made his peace with that.

Bokuto has other ideas.

surfacing

Keiji’s boyfriend has been cheating on him. During their public confrontation, he ends up walking out with the other man - Bokuto Koutarou. They strike up an unlikely friendship born from the bond of heartbreak, and, eventually, help one another to heal parts of themselves they perhaps hadn't even known were broken.

Alternatively: Bokuto tries to set Akaashi up with a rebound to make up for being “the other man.” It both does and does not go according to plan.

notice me kouhai

This was definitely, somehow, Bokuto's fault.

the strange music of your heart

"Hey," Konoha says, tone hushed, one day after practice when he and Bokuto end up staying behind together. "Akaashi likes you, you know?"

Bokuto is in the process of putting on a clean shirt. "Of course he does," he says, voice too close to his ears under the fabric. "We're friends!" He pulls the shirt down, freeing his head. "What," he says, suddenly self-conscious, "does someone not like me?"

in which akaashi falls for bokuto first.

Miscellaneous

Experimental Probability

Atsumu stares blankly back at him. "So, let me get this straight. Ya want me to kiss ya so you can tell whether or not yer in love with my brother?"

Rin winces at his word choice. "Not exactly how I would have phrased it, but yeah, pretty much."

Or: Suna Rintarou is not in love with his best friend. Scientific evidence would suggest otherwise.

Close to the Chest

It takes Yahaba thirteen years to realize he's different from the other kids, one to figure out how to hide it, and two more to learn to be happy just the way he is. Yahaba's journey ft. an extremely annoyed Kyoutani, best friend in the world Watari, and loads and loads of good senpai Oikawa.

seam-ripper

Asahi’s life is prone to falling apart at the very seams, something he has been aware of since his unfortunate birth approximately sixteen long, hard years ago. Due to the infallible accuracy of this fact, Asahi begins his second year of high school by getting involved in his very first physical altercation; he is subsequently subjected to what might be considered the most embarrassing social situation of the decade. And to top it all off with the perfect catastrophe cherry on the disaster sundae that is Asahi’s miserable existence, Suga is laughing at him.

Or, the story of Asahi and Nishinoya’s near-disastrous get-together.

hair smell

“Actually,” Takahiro starts, uncharacteristically serious. “You… Your hair smells nice.”

“My hair?” Issei blinks.

Takahiro nods. “Yeah.” He reaches a hand up, but doesn’t run his fingers through the curls—instead, he pushes them in at his scalp and scratches. He’s clearly very careful not to ruin the frizzy tangles on Issei’s head that are only achievable by means of product, air drying, and then sleeping-but-not-really on rough cotton pillowcases. The gesture is personal; it worms its way into Issei’s heart and takes root there, squeezing tight, pulsing in time with each of his heartbeats.

“I don’t know what it is,” Takahiro confesses. His face is still serious, but the line of his brow is definitely easing. “Your product? Conditioner?”

Issei shrugs. He didn’t even know about his hair smell until just now.

“But, anyway,” Takahiro continues, and he maintains steady eye contact, although his voice is suddenly small. “Sometimes I’ll smell it on someone else, and it makes me think of you.”

“Oh,” Issei says.

the inherent romance of classical conditioning (or, the fine art of emotional recognition)

It's stupid. Atsumu isn't a romantic, no matter how many times he's imagined laying Sakusa out and finally really touching him.

So there's no explanation for why Atsumu is constantly stuck thinking about brushing his fingertips against the meat of Sakusa's palms or the prominent tendons in his freaky wrists.

There's no explanation for why doing dishes sets off a warm burn in his ribcage, or why when he smells disinfectant he inhales like he's walking past a bakery.

Yer doin' this to me, he thinks furiously, as Sakusa derails his thoughts with kisses that come more and more frequently now. Yer conditionin' me, and I can't stop it.

Tending to a Wounded Heart

“Now, Iwaizumi-san, while I am flattered by your interest and must admit you’re very attractive, I must inform you my heart belongs to another, and I’m not sure your dear captain Oikaw-“ Satori wasn’t even able to finish his jest, as a fuming Iwaizumi interrupted him. A blush blooming from his hairline down to his neck.

“I’M NOT HITTING ON YOU, DUMBASS!”

...

After being discovered in the midst of breakdown in the bathroom of Seijoh, Tendou Satori strikes up an unusual friendship with Iwaizumi who seems keen on helping Tendou navigate his own unrequited feelings, despite ignoring his own.

All the while Tendou's teammates are becoming more and more concerned with their blocker's new behavior and mysterious texting buddy.

No more time to waste

Tsukishima Kei has a theory: crushes were originally conceived as a cosmic torture device. Now, he doesn’t exactly have a broad sample size to study, being completely unwilling to engage with either Hinata or Kuroo’s pining for their resolutely-stoic best friends, but it’s true from his experience. He has it worse than them, at any rate. His best friend is the furthest thing imaginable from stoic.

Tsukishima suffers through training camp in a heatwave. His infuriatingly attractive best friend does absolutely nothing to help.

my heart beats for contract law

"You had an emotional breakdown in a McDonalds drive-through."

"Mmm."

"And proposed to me."

"Shhh."

"In a McDonalds drive-through, Hiro."

Takahiro huffs out a nervous laugh, keeping his eyes closed. "You love it," he repeats, nuzzling closer.

Mint and Pine

Yahaba yanks at Kyoutani’s uniform in the club room and ties his tie so tight after morning practice that sometimes Kyoutani thinks he’s trying to fucking strangle him.

don't bother checking my work (i've never cared for math anyway)

It isn’t until Shirabu’s back at LOCCENT that it really sinks in. Forty-eight wins? An impressive number, true, and a definite sign of Ushijima’s strength, especially compared to Tendou. But in anyone else, an unbalanced score like that would indicate a depressingly low chance of drift compatibility.

Drifting with Ushijima was simple statistically, but potentially deadly realistically. And drifting with Tendou? A veritable nightmare. If not for Washijou’s insistence, Shirabu would have dropped him long ago.

Still, something is calling to him. Something beyond numbers and data projections.

Because Ushijima may have knocked Tendou down forty-eight times. But that means there were forty-nine times he got back up.

Overflow

He laid his palm flat over Asahi’s jaw, almost shivering when the sparks fluttered up his arm and settled in his chest. His thumb came to rest in the little dip below Asahi’s lower lip, the skin there quivering with the tremble of Asahi’s mouth.

Glancing away from where he’d been intently watching the path of his fingers, Yuu found Asahi’s eyes wide open, with terror or awe it was hard to tell. And it hit him then what he’d just been doing.

Well, not really hit him. It sank into him, slow and staticky and warm and anxious—the realization that he’d never touched anybody like this before.

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