#shingle fields

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[salaishop]

Traditional Landscape Boston Inspiration for a sizable, traditional, summertime stone landscaping front yard.

[fleurducap]

Pool Boston

An enormous traditional backyard fountain with a rectangular lap pool is an example.

[chocolatespacemuffins]

Miami Traditional Porch An example of a large traditional front porch design with decking and a roof extension.

[7-oh-ta1]

Harness shopping for my cat is probably THE most stressful thing in the universe because if he gets loose it IS the end of the world. He's a master of the "shrink and back up" technique

[bloumiddel]

New York Exterior

[puckinghischier]

Nervous

Jack Hughes x fem!reader, smitten!Jack

summary: request for jack and reader on their wedding day

notes: this is my first time writing anything for jack and i literally had so much fun with it. i hope you guys like it 😌

[2.6k]

~

Jack had never been this nervous before. Not during games, not on his draft day, not on the night of his rookie debut, and not in any circumstance that he can remember. Ever. He’s not usually the type to dwell on feelings of nerves, trusting his skill and his ability to focus on the task at hand to get the job done.

Today, though, is the most nerve-wracking day of his life. It’s his wedding day, for crying out loud. The day he gets to marry the girl that has been there for every major event of his life. The girl that has never missed a Devils home game. The girl that he’s pretty sure his family loves more than him. The girl that has stuck by him through every hardship and crazy hockey season so far. His girl. The girl he gets to make his wife.

Hell, he wasn’t even this nervous when he asked you to marry him. He recalls the day as if it happened mere hours ago, not a year and a half earlier.

“Jack, where are we going? I thought you said you had an event with the team tonight? You’re going to be late,” you ask, noticing you’re driving further and further away from the city.

You had been doing laundry, trying to get ahead on some chores you had been neglecting, when Jack had come into the living room and told you to put your shoes on, he wanted to take you somewhere. You had asked him where, and if you needed to change, but he simply shook his head no and told you it was a surprise. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Jack. You just assumed he found a new ice cream place he thought you would love, or some quaint little coffee shop he knew you’d like.

You didn’t think anything of it until you found yourself watching the city disappear into the distance almost forty-five minutes later, no destination in sight.

“We’re almost there, darling. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours,” is all he said, taking his eyes off the road for only a moment to flash one of his soft smiles in your direction before continuing to drive.

You sit in the comfortable silence, a slow country ballad playing softly on the radio. Jack’s hand resting on your thigh adding a much-needed warmth to your body, not having grabbed a jacket before he dragged you out of your shared apartment. You watch the road around you become surrounded by trees, admiring the greenery that seems so hard to come by in the city.

Before you realize it, too lost in your own thoughts, Jack is turning off of the paved road you were traveling onto a dirt road, clouds of dust billowing behind the car. You lean forward a bit, trying to take in the scenery to find any sort of clue as to where you were. You’re just about to ask where he’s taking you, yet again, when you see the most beautiful scene appear through the windshield.

At the end of the road stood a large red barn, aged in all the right ways. The red was slightly faded, showcasing the years of sun damage and there were pieces of the shingled roof missing, lost in the wind who knows how long ago. Off to the left of the barn was a large area surrounded by a wooden fence, a few horses grazing on the bright green grass. The sun was just beginning to set, causing one side of the barn to be coated in golden sunlight, the other side blanketed in a shadow. As Jack turned the car to enter the field where the barn sat, you noticed the obscene number of lights strung high into the trees covered by the shadow of the barn, giving the effect that little drops of sunlight were dripping from the limbs.

“Jack…what- where are we?” You ask him, disbelief lacing your tone.

“Just a little place I stumbled across with Luke one day. We were out for a drive, just wanting out of the city for a few hours. Found this place and instantly thought of you. Knew I had to bring you here,” he reveals, parking the car and turning off the engine.

Jack opens his door to get out of the car and quickly moves to open yours, taking your hand while leading the two of you over to the forest of lights. You’re so busy looking up at the sight in the trees that you miss the large, wooden arch set up in the middle of the two biggest trees in the mini forest. There were a few hay-bales on each side of the arch, large bouquets of white daisies placed all over the bales, with some even bunched around the top corners of the square arch.

Once you take in the scene in front of you, you turn your head to look at Jack, finding his eyes already on you.

“Jack, you have about three seconds to tell me what’s going on here,” you calmly tell him, even though your stomach felt like it was doing summersaults.

“I told you, I wanted to show this place to you. Thought you’d like it.” His lips curled into an amused smile once he noticed the glare on your face, knowing you were calling his bluff.

“I wanted to show you this place, because I knew you’d like it. Because I know you. How lucky I am to know you,” he begins, slowly moving you forward until you’re standing directly in front of the arch.

“How lucky I am that I’m the person you chose to trust with your heart. How lucky I am to be able to come home to you after a hard day. How lucky I am to be the recipient of your kindness and your love. How lucky I am to bask in your happiness and your spirit day after day. How lucky I am that you put up with the crazy world I live in, and do it without complaint.”

Your hands were starting to shake at this point, eyes watering.

“What I did to deserve all of this, I’ll never know. But I know I’ll never take it for granted. I’ll never take you for granted. And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend every day of the rest of our lives telling you how thankful I am to whatever celestial being lead me to you,” Jack pauses, dropping to his knee and fishing around in his pocket for the velvet box he’s had hidden in a pair of old skates in the closet for months.

“You are pure sunshine, shining light on every single person you meet. Y/N Y/L/N, please, let me live the rest of my life sunburnt. Marry Me.”

That was the easy part. Asking you to marry him was the quickest and easiest decision Jack had ever made in his life. He hadn’t thought twice when he called Luke on a random Thursday afternoon, telling him he needed to help him run some “errands”, driving to the nearest jeweler as soon as Luke sat in his passengers seat. Didn’t even hesitate when he called your best friend, asking if you had ever talked about what your favorite diamond cut was. Not a nerve in sight when he flew out to meet your parents to ask for their blessing two months before proposing, claiming he was just making a quick trip to visit some friends.

So why? Why was he so nervous today? He’s been looking at himself in the mirror for twenty minutes now, worried that his bow tie is crooked, or that his hair looks too messy. He didn’t know why he was so focused on his appearance. You’ve seen him at his worst. You’ve been there to take care of him after far too many drinks on a night out celebrating a win, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, head buried in the closest toilet. You’ve seen him after a brutal game, face red from exertion and weird imprints all over his body from his gear. You’ve seen him when he broke down after his first loss during his rookie year, putting all the blame on himself, holding him in your arms as he sobbed in your kitchen.

He knew you didn’t care if a few hairs were out of place, or if his tie was a centimeter too far to the left. But he did. He cared, because this was the most important day of his life, and you deserved for him to look his best. You deserved for him to make sure everything was perfect.

Jack is pulled from his thoughts by a knock at the door, Luke and Quinn making their way into the room.

“Ready, Rowdy?” Quinn asks, going to stand behind Jack in the mirror.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jack responds, turning to look at his two brothers, forcing a smile that’s supposed hide all of his nervous emotions.

“Are you sure? Why do you look like you’re about to vomit, then?”

“I don’t? Do I? Oh god, what if she thinks there’s something wrong when she sees me? How do I make myself look like I’m not gonna hurl all over her dress. Luke, do I really look like I’m gonna blow chunks?” Jack frantically asks, looking between the two brothers, turning back around to look at himself in the mirror once again.

“Jack, breathe, man. You look fine. Luke was just being Luke. He doesn’t look like he’s going to vomit, right, Luke?” Quinn attempts to calm Jack, glaring at Luke.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean it. Sorry, Jack. You look fine. She’s probably gonna want to jump your bones or some shit. You look great.” Luke blurts, trying to not only escape the wrath of his eldest brother, but to keep Jack from actually vomiting.

“Okay, not what I meant but whatever works, I guess.” Quinn sighs, placing his hands on Jack’s shoulders to turn him back around.

“Listen, everything’s going to be fine. We just went to see Y/N, she’s nervous just like you are. I don’t know why, you’re both so painfully obvious with how much you love each other. There’s nothing for you to worry about. She loves you, man. More than I’ve seen someone love another person. As long as you’re standing there waiting on her at the end of the aisle, you could be covered in dog shit for all she cares. She just wants to see you. She just wants to marry you.”

Jack stares at his older brother, letting the words sink in. His thoughts drift to you, only three doors down, standing in your dress looking into the mirror just like he is, freaking out over things that don’t truly matter to him. He thinks about how you could walk down the aisle, hair un-brushed, pajamas still on, slippers on your feet and he would still be ecstatic to see you.

“You’re right, Q. Of course you’re right. I knew I chose you to be my best man for a reason,” Jack chuckles, feeling his nerves settle a bit.

“I know I’m right. I know you. And I know Y/N. As long as the two of you leave here today with the same last name, everything else could go wrong and you would still be the happiest couple I know,” Quinn removes his hands from Jack’s shoulders.

“But, nothing is going to go wrong, because Mom has been out there running around like a madwoman to make sure everything is in place. The only thing left is to make sure you get to the altar. Which is what we were sent here to do,” Luke chimes in, trying to assure his brother one last time.

“Alright. Yeah. I guess it’s time, huh?”

“It’s time, Rowdy. And it’s been a long time coming.” Quinn pats Jack on the back, the three brothers making their way towards the door that was left open.

Jack smiles at his brother’s statement, knowing you’re just as much a part of his brother’s lives as you are his. You watch every single one of Quinn’s hockey games (as long as he’s not playing at the same time as Jack and Luke) and scream loud enough for the neighbors to complain. You were there at Jack’s side for Luke’s draft day, just as proud, if not more, of the youngest Hughes. You always invite Luke over for a post-game dinner, knowing how tired he is after games and wanting to make sure he gets a meal before he goes home and claims he’s too tired to eat. He knows you hold a special place in his mom’s heart, too. Her claim that you’re the daughter she never had proving to be true through this whole process, knowing she’s been involved in every step of this wedding right along side your mom and yourself.

Before Jack knows it, the ceremony is beginning and he’s being given the signal to make his way to the altar, standing next to his groomsmen as he waits for you to walk through those doors.

As he looks out over the crowd, he finds himself growing nervous once again. Did he put on enough cologne? Did he bring the right kind? What if he wasn’t wearing the one you told him was your favorite? Did he brush his teeth? What if he kisses you for the first time as your husband and his breath tastes like the burger he had for lunch? Oh god, what if you don’t want to kiss him because he has burger breath?

Quinn can sense the nervous energy radiating off of his brother once again. He places his hand on Jack’s back, giving him a few pats to let him know he’s right there next to him. That everything’s going to be okay.

Jack looks over at his brother only briefly before he hears the unmistakable tune of “In Case You Didn’t Know” by Brett Young start playing through the speakers. It’s Jack’s song for you. He plays it all the time when you’re in the car together, not even trying to be subtle. He loves to send it to you when he’s on the road, letting you know he’s thinking about you. There was absolutely no question in your mind as to what song you were going to choose when your mom asked what you wanted to walk down the aisle to.

He snaps his attention to the double doors that open at the other end of the large room. His stomach is in knots, really hoping he doesn’t actually look like he’s about to puke, because he sure feels like it right now.

As he watches the first flash of white make an appearance in the doorway, he knows he’s a goner.

You step into his full view, hand wrapped around your father’s arm, looking around at the various guests for only a split second before your eyes meet his. Jack swears, all time stops in that second. He can barely see through the tears that well in his eyes, completely in awe of you. You match his gaze, forcing yourself to keep the tears from dropping, not wanting to have mascara streaks running down your face before you even get to the altar.

The two of you simply stare at one another for what seems like an eternity. An unspoken declaration of love passed between one another in a simple glance. Your father having to tug on your arm slightly, forcing you to step forward, too lost in Jack for you to remember where you were and what was currently taking place.

As you start to walk down the aisle, every step bringing you towards Jack, towards the rest of your life with him, the feeling of calmness washes over his body. You’re here. You’re his. And you’re everything he has ever wanted and more. It’s in this moment, watching the rest of his life walk towards him, smile on her face, a single tear slipping down her cheek, Jack Hughes has never been less nervous in his life.

[llamagoddessofficial]

I love Farmtale Sans a lot. But also, living in the country isn't always sunshine cottagecore magicalness. It can suck. But... here's some unromantic country stuff that I think could actually be very romantic when you're with him.

As mentioned before, the two of you end up spending a lot of time in the car together. The nearest big store is a ways away, after all. On those long drives, the radio often cuts out for long periods of time... it can feel pretty lonely, especially at night. But when you're together, it's alright. You sleep with your head against the passenger window, your coat over you, holding his unoccupied hand through the quiet.

He gets a call in the middle of the night from someone else further into the village that there's a surprise rain shower coming through tomorrow, and they need to move a lot of kit indoors ASAP before it hits. He grumbles, but heads out anyway. ... An hour or so later, in the middle of a dark cold field, he sees your flashlight rushing over to him. You have a flask of steaming soup and a tupperware box with a slice of hot pie inside. Despite your fear of the dark and bugs, you made your way out to him. He feels himself fall in love even harder, and just like that, the task takes half the time.

When your home is as exposed as country houses can get, the wind can be really fucking loud. Especially if your room is on the windward side of the house. It can sound like a train is driving over your bedroom at night. You decide to sleep on the couch, both because you can't sleep and because you're nervous about how loud it is; it's difficult to rest when you can literally hear the roof rattling and the shingles jumping up and down. Sans, even though his room is absolutely fine, opts to join you. He lights the fire and gets comfy with you, then stays awake so you feel comfortable enough to fall asleep. You wake up the next morning snuggled up to his chest.

The weather is horrendous pouring rain, cold and damp and treacherously muddy. But the animals have to be fed regardless of the weather. You both go out into the early morning darkness, feeding the chickens and cows, checking on the crops, making sure nothing is leaking, hands almost frozen. You come home absolutely drenched in a thick mixture of rain and mud. And as much as Papyrus complains, refusing to let either of you past the porch until you strip all your dirty items... he's got hot lunch waiting for you both, dry pyjamas and thick socks hanging up over the stove, warm blankets on the couch. There's nothing like the feeling of sheltering from a tempest in someplace cosy. Even if the power does keep going out.

[potter-imagines]

Family Sleepover

Pairing: Choso Kamo x Reader

Prompt: A relaxing friday night for Choso and Y/n takes a turn when Choso's little brother, Yuji, has a nightmare leading to a family sleepover.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warning: modern Choso and reader, non sorcerer world setting, mentions of drinking and smoking, otherwise mainly fluff!

Notes: love love love choso, he doesn't get enough attention in writes so hopefully i'll have more choso x reader to come! <3 (gif credit to @fushiguro)

Rainfall smacked against the shingles on the roof while the weather outside only grew worse. A majority of souls dreaded nights filled with storming rain, although Y/n never truly understood why. Not only did the ‘disgusting’ weather provide her the perfect excuse to remain indoors, the cracks of lighting and the booming of thunder set a cozy mood as the rain poured down from the skies outside. The light from the flashing television brightened the darkened room to a glowing haze. Choso had his arm thrown over his girlfriend’s body and his back pressed up against the black headboard as Y/n curled herself into his side, her hands resting neatly on his chest. 

It was a typical Friday night for the couple after an exhausting week for the both of them. Choso had put in three grueling nights of overtime while Y/n had run herself thin juggling her final semester of college writing three separate ten page essays and studying for finals between her part time job. 

Instead of going out until the early hours of the morning bar hopping and clubbing like most couples their age, the two preferred the more intimate occasions of peaceful bliss wrapped in each other’s hold. Besides, babysitters weren’t cheap and between keeping up with rent, having enough food on the table, gas to get to work, bills and buying new clothes for a never ending growing boy, there wasn’t a surplus of funds left over to pay some high schooler to watch little Yuji every weekend night. 

Yuji was the youngest of Choso’s brothers, his only surviving family member in fact. Shortly after his eighteenth birthday his entire family perished in an electrical fire that tore through his childhood home. The cause was natural yet their deaths hardly felt so. His mother had passed away in the hospital a day after the fire, while his little brother was the only member she could manage to stumble out of the home with. Yuji was a few months old at the time, and if he hadn’t still been sleeping in the bassinet next to their parent’s bed, Choso was sure he would’ve perished as well. He had received a call only hours after the fire was put out, being miles away at university, he rushed to his hometown immediately to discover the life changing news. 

That tragic event was four years ago and ever since, Choso has been raising his youngest brother alone- well, they were alone, until through friends, Choso was introduced to Y/n. The couple met at nineteen and had been going strong since, much to his surprise. Choso struggled in the dating field prior to being a near ‘single dad’, and now that he had his kid brother to look after, he naturally assumed he’d never find a partner.

However Y/n proved herself different from any woman he’d ever met, and Yuji adored her. From the child's second birthday on, Y/n had been an essential part of their lives and she had no intentions of leaving, which she once again proved by blowing Choso’s mind and signing on to lease a small three bedroom home alongside him and Yuji. Three years later now and the couple were raising Yuji like a stable, healthy family, and Choso couldn’t be more grateful to have her in both of their lives. 

Typical wasn’t an adjective that fit like a puzzle in their dictionary but they still tried to act like a normal 23 year old couple, hence the half full wine glasses sat on either side of the bed and the tightly packed pre roll waiting patiently on Choso’s side. Sure, they had a crazy five year old to look after, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t allowed to indulge in a bit of fun themselves, right?

A mutual favorite horror film of the couples was playing in the background. Y/n laid peaceful alongside Choso and the two cuddled on one another underneath the heavy stack of blankets. H/c hair tickled his skin as Choso situated his chin on the crown of her skull. Screams streamed from the television as a helpless victim took their chance at running through the winding forest trying to escape the crazed killer. Y/n’s body jerked as the girl managed to trip over a perfectly placed tree root and went stumbling down a large, leaf filled hill. The actress cried in fright as the killer stood at the top of the embankment, staring down at her disheveled state. Choso stole a peep down at his girlfriend, a rare smile coating his lips as he noticed her fully clinging to his naked chest. Once the girl was murdered and the screen cut to a new scene, her body visibly relaxed as her hold loosened. 

Choso smirked at the action, his lips finding their way to the top of her head, placing a small kiss as his arms pulled her closer. He could feel her hands absentmindedly tracing patterns against his chest while her eyes were glued to the horror movie on the television. Every once in a while her frame would flinch against his as a new victim was slain and killed, making him laugh to himself at her jumpy nature. Not everyone found horror movies ‘relaxing’, so to say, but for the couple, it was their idea of an unwinding night. 

Y/n shakily picked the wine glass up from the nightstand and took a reasonable gulp on the red liquid, then placed the cup back on the coaster. Her eyes casually shifted to her boyfriend, a mischievous smile playing on her pink lips as she motioned towards the joint resting on his side. Choso understood her thinking, not needing the use of words, and he chuckled. The mood felt all too perfect and the claming drag of a blunt was the bow to tie their night together in a beautifully wrapped present. However, as the saying goes, if something seems too good to be true, chances are it isn’t true. 

Right as Choso went to reach for the bud sitting beside him, a loud, echoing shriek broke through the once mellow air causing both adults to spring in terror. Y/n gasped, sitting up immediately as she looked up to Choso who was already throwing the comforter off and his legs off the side of the bed to stand. 

“Shit…” He cursed. Another scream hit the air as Choso grabbed the nearest shirt he could find and threw it on. Watching as he hurriedly redressed, Y/n extended her hand to flick the bedside lamp on, a worried hint to her tired gaze. 

“Is that Yuuji?” Concern laced her words as Y/n watched her boyfriend throw a random shirt over his head. He nodded towards her, confirming her worry. 

“Mmh, one second, babe. I’ll be right back.” Choso shared a quick kiss with his girl before sliding out the bedroom door. Stepping into the hall he quietly flipped on the ceiling light and walked the few steps to his brother’s room. Yuji’s door was decorated in various drawings, stickers, and paintings the young boy had made, making it hard to miss. The door was closed shut, but that didn’t stop the sound of muffled sobs and shaky breathing from breaking through. Twisting the golden knob, Choso slowly creaked the door open as he peeked his head around the wooden frame.

From his spot in the doorway Choso could see a small lump under the covers that was shaking like a leaf in a storm, much like the raging thunderstorm occurring outside the home. Entering the room, he quietly made his way into the bedroom and sat his body on the edge of the bed, careful as to not startle his younger brother. Choso reached his hand out to rub along what appeared to be the child’s back as he whispered, 

“Hey, little man. Everything alright?”

The heavy blanket was ripped from the boy’s body at the sound of his savior’s voice as Yuji flung himself to his big brother’s arms, grasping at his shirt while his teary eyes leaked against the cotton. 

“Choso!” He cried out. An iron grip clutched at his skin, tiny hands searching for stability in his hold.

“I’m here, don’t worry. Why’re you crying?” Choso hugged his body close to his chest, his large hand running up and down Yuji’s back in an attempt to comfort him. The small boy buried his head in his shoulder as the broken sobs continued. 

“I-I had a-a bad dream a-and the thunder w-was so loud my… my whole room was shaking and… and I saw a monster was outside my window with big claws and sharp teeth- he was going to eat me!” Yuji shouted in fear. His voice trembled as he struggled to get his words free from his dry throat.

The image of a terrifying beast perched up on the branch staring at him through his window replayed on a loop in Yuji’s head, his brain creating a scarier image each time he recalled the monster. Tiny fists bundled the shirt between his fingers as Yuji clung to his older brother. Glancing down, Choso leaned back a pull so the boy was forced to look into his dark violet eyes. Despite his usual solemn look, Choso’s features were warmer- more comforting than Yuji had witnessed on the regular. A serious gaze crossed his stare as his thumb wiped a bundle of tears running down the child’s cheeks. 

“Well you know that would never happen. Do you remember what I told you about monsters?” He questioned. Yuji rubbed at his eyes, his head shaking ‘no’ in response. Swiping his thumb across the underside of his leaking eyes, Choso wiped his rampant tears away.

“They’re not real. They’re just in our heads, right?” His finger tapped against his small forehead. “Even if monsters were real, your big brother would never let it eat you, I can promise that.”

Yuji peered up at his brother, his curious wide eyes on full display, as if his big brother had all the answers to life. If Choso told him the grass was blue and the sky was green, he’d believe him. To Yuji, his brother could do no wrong. A twinkle met his large brown eyes as his head tilted to the side,

“You’d beat him up?” He asked hopefully. A crack of a grin broke across his face as Choso nodded in agreement. 

“Mmh.” Choso ruffled the pink of his hair, giving him a reassuring smile. Yuji cuddled himself against his chest once more, previous shaky breaths finally evening out to small hiccups. The redness to his plump cheeks were starting to fade leaving tiny blotches of hysteria in its wake. Those tears that seemed never ending like a rushing waterfall growing into quiet sniffles. 

A steady silence filled the room until Yuji pulled his head away from Choso’s now damp shirt. With nervous eyes he hesitantly looked down to his fidgeting hands. Rubbing his palm against his heated skin, Choso wordlessly urged his kid brother to speak up, knowing there was clearly something swimming around his mind. Reaching out for the plush brown bear, Yuji held it to his chest as he inhaled steadily. 

“Can… can I sleep in your bed, please big brother?” The flush of innocence to his tone was a gentle reminder to Choso that although his little brother was rather brave for his age, he was still only five years old and sometimes, extra reassurance was required. 

“Sure, kiddo.”

Yuji leapt towards Choso, his small arms encircling his brother’s neck as he let out a cheer of delight. Smiling to himself, Choso plucked the blue star blanket he knew the child struggled to sleep without and stood from the bed. Yuji’s head laid against his shoulder as the pair started walking towards the master bedroom. Choso flicked the hallway light off and turned the handle to his room, stepping into the darkness with his brother in his hold. 

The small lamp on her bedside was still lit as the two brothers entered the room, the sudden presence capturing Y/n’s attention. Choso didn’t fail to notice the smile that graced her beautiful features as she caught sight of the pink haired boy in his grasp, and the way her arms opened up on instinct. A gasp of excitement broke from Yuji’s chest as he met the eyes of his second favorite person in the world. 

“Y/n!” Yuji shouted. Shaking from Choso’s arms, he scrambled against the fluffy duvet as he crawled to Y/n. A large grin illuminated on his face as he fell into her welcoming embrace. “Big brother is letting me sleep in his bed- do you think we can snuggle?”

His strawberry scented hair tickled against her chin as Yuji buried himself further in her chest, cheeks still slightly damp from his crying from before now pressed to her skin. Y/n drew her nails up and down his spine, scratching his back as one comforting their young would do, then kissed the side of his head. 

“Of course, baby.” 

Choso reached out for Yuji from behind and lifted him, allowing Y/n room to pull the blanket down so he could sneak in beside her. Once Yuji was under the covers he yanked the dark material up and settled in below his chin, his arms falling above the blanket then effortlessly positioned himself on his side so his little body was nearly attached to Y/n’s. Yuji innocently cradled his face into the warmth of her chest. Y/n giggled at his forwardness and wrapped her hold around him, pulling Yuji closer and kissing his ruby cheek, to which the boy snuggled in closer. 

Choso couldn’t resist the chuckle that broke from his chest making the tattoo line across the bridge of his nose scrunch in amusement as he watched how easy his brother made himself at home in the bedroom he shared with his girlfriend. Yuji pranced in the room and fixed himself up in Choso’s bed next to his girlfriend like he owned the place- like he was the one paying rent. Tugging his shirt off, Choso threw the cotton to the side as he slipped into his side of the bed and shot Y/n an apologetic look. 

“I’m sorry, angel. Yuuji had a nightmare then was certain he saw a monster outside his window so he’s pretty shaken up.” 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for taking care of him, Cho. There’s plenty of room for all three of us up here.”

Choso’s eyes drifted to his nightstand, purple orbs landing on the sealed up backwoods as he mentally cursed himself, thank god Yuji hadn’t noticed it or Y/n was sure to chew his ass out. Looks like they’d have to save their smoke session for another night. Sliding open the bedside drawer, Choso swept the pre roll into the cupboard and shut it, tossing the blue lighter in alongside. The wine swayed in the glass from the movement, and he pushed it back a few inches so it was completely out of Yuji’s reach. 

Turning his attention back to the two Choso nudged his finger against the chubby texture of his little brother’s cheek. 

“But you’re coming in here to sleep, okay Yuuji? It’s bedtime, not playtime.” Yuji obediently bobbed his head in agreement, a twinkle of mischievousness sparking in his eyes. Choso knew that gleam all too well. Overall his kid brother was a relatively good listener, but there was always some catch, and when it came to bedtime, Yuji’s catch was his ability to ask a million and one questions before actually falling asleep. Y/n bit the inside of her cheek to keep from letting a laugh escape. Yuji was too sweet. Tapping his finger at Y/n’s arm, the small boy gestured towards the tv. 

“Can I watch a little of your movie to go to sleep?” His question was suppressed by his face being shoved into Y/n’s neck, but the words were clear enough. Y/n glanced at her boyfriend, an uncertain raise to her brows. Before he could decline his brother’s request, she shook her head softly. 

“Well… it’s sort of scary… maybe we should put something different on until you’re asleep.”

Instead of changing the channel, Choso opted for turning the volume down. It was a film he’d seen a thousand times over and he knew there wouldn’t be another scary scene for a good fifteen minutes, which opened the perfect window of sleep for Yuji. Unlike Choso who required a minimum of thirty minutes until sleep could greet him, Yuji could fall asleep at the drop of a pin, and based on the droopiness to his eyes, sleep didn’t seem too far off for him. 

“How ‘bout you try closing your eyes for sleep and we can have a fun movie day tomorrow, alright? Y/n and I are gonna go to bed soon, too.” Choso promised. The young boy tilted his head up towards his big brother, almost searching his features for any sign of lies, but Choso only stared back. Once he was sure his brother was telling the truth, Yuji nodded and forced himself to close his large eyes. 

Both adults watched the movie without a word, cautious to give Yuji a fair chance to fall asleep. Images passed on the screen of a seemingly happy family as they began moving into their new home. The children ran around outside the home, giggling and shouting with glee as the parents carried loads of boxes into the home. The scene hadn’t struck either Choso nor Y/n as one of importance as they both knew the ill awaited fate to meet the family, but through half lidded eyes, Yuji’s interest was quipped. The quietness lasted for no longer than a minute when Yuji moved his head, pink hair brushing against Y/n’s chin, and knocked at his brother’s shoulder. 

“Big brother…”

“Hm?” Choso replied. Yuji’s fixation was back on the television screen as he pointed his finger to the image. 

“Are you and Y/n gonna have babies?”

Both heads immediately snapped to the young boy, a gasp of shock sounding from Y/n at the sudden inquiry as her eyebrows shot up towards the sky. If someone was to take a picture of her face, she was sure she’d look like she’d witnessed a ghost. Choso’s mouth hung astoundment, the innocently worded question clearly hitting him like a smack across the face. 

“What?” 

Y/n quietly stared at her boyfriend for help, unsure what to say in response. Yuji on the other hand sat unwavered as he wiggled against her, trying his best to find the most comfortable position. Choso lifted the comforter of the blanket so Yuji had more access to cover his small body, then provided a brief shrug. Giving his girlfriend a look of uncertainty, Choso sighed at the oddly deep question. 

“Not for a while, little man. We’ve already got you to take care of so I think we’ll wait a bit.” Choso spoke softly.

“Oh… okay.” Disappointment flooded his tone. Seeing his face drop in such a sad manner made Choso feel a bit bad for letting him down. Of course the couple planned on having children, it was a topic they’d discussed more times than they could count, but it wasn’t necessarily a priority at the moment for either of them. Choso wanted Yuji in school, and Y/n to have her dream wedding to him before either of them seriously took action to have children of their own. In the meantime, they certainly enjoyed practicing the baby making process- but Yuji didn’t need to know about all that. 

Yet it seemed Yuji’s curiosity was not quite settled as he once again tapped Choso on the shoulder,

“Big brother?”

“Yeah?” He tiredly mumbled out. Y/n laughed at the exasperation in Choso’s voice. It was no secret, Yuji had hit that age where his questions and curiosity had no end. Every meal was filled with a game of 21 questions asking what was in the food, how was it made, where did the ingredients come from, why does it call for carrots and not chocolate, and so on. His mind had no limits, and most of the time, Choso was grateful for that, except for now when Yuji was meant to be asleep, not firing inquiries left and right. Stealing a glance to Y/n over his shoulder, Yuji turned back to his big brother, a shade of scarlet painting his skin. 

“Can I marry Y/n when I’m a big kid like you?” Large brown eyes bore up at Choso as Yuji hugged his teddy closer, a faint blush flushing his cheeks. Choso was aware of his little brother’s crush on his girlfriend, and honestly, he couldn’t blame the kid. Y/n was attentive, caring, selfless, kind hearted, and not to mention gorgeous, so he could see plain as day why Yuji had a crush on his girlfriend. Still, the question knocked him back a step in surprise. Tonight's line of thoughts racing around the child’s mind seemed larger than normal. 

“I’m sorry, little man but I was planning on marrying Y/n. I don’t think it’d be very fair if you stole her from me, do you?” His brows pulled together into a thin line at his brother’s new inquiry. First babies, now he wanted to marry Y/n? Choso was scared to hear what Yuji had up his sleeve to ask next. The child’s expression went glum once again, a heavy pout coating his pink lips. 

“No… I guess not… I just really like to snuggle with her…” He admitted. His confession brought a cheesy grin to Y/n’s face. Yuji had always been adorable to her but now she found him even more of a sweetheart. Arms still wrapped around him, Y/n pulled Yuji in further to give him a hug, which he happily accepted. 

“You can always snuggle with me, bubs, but I’ll bet when you’re a big kid like your brother, you’re gonna meet a pretty girl you’d rather cuddle with instead.” Y/n laughed slightly as she glanced down at the young boy. She found it irresistibly adorable Yuji had developed a crush on her, but she also knew it was sure to fade as he grew, nonetheless, it was one of the cutest things to her. Kissing his temple, Y/n gave him one last squeeze then loosened her grip as a loud huff tumbled from Yuji’s parted lips. 

“Not true! You’re the prettiest girl ever! I don’t want another girl- gross!” Yuji’s tongue fell from his mouth as he made an absurd gagging sound. In his mind, the idea of snuggling another girl was the most disgusting thing he’d ever heard- but snuggling his big brother’s girlfriend? Now that was a totally different story. Choso sent a flick to the side of Yuji’s head, snickering to himself as the boy yelped and grasped for the point of impact. 

“We’ll see if you change your mind, how ‘bout that?” Yuji shook his head ‘yes’, agreeing to his brother’s words. Y/n suppressed a giggle as she looked over to Choso, amused by his twinge of annoyance at what she found to be adorably harmless questions from Yuji.

While Choso quietly pondered over his brother’s words, the small boy seemed to be warming up to the idea of bedtime. Yuji’s big eyes were casually drooping lower and lower with every blink he took. 

“I think someone is sleepy…” Y/n’s tone was teasing as she poked the chub of Yuji’s cheek. His usual hyperactive nature was calmed down to a simmer, and Y/n could feel him sinking into her hold. Not much longer and she was sure he’d be out like a light. As if reading her mind the young boy let out a loud yawn.

“I’m just gonna close my eyes for a little bit.” Yuji seemed to be making the promise more to himself than anyone else. Choso nodded, feigning belief, his brown strands threatened to slip from the rubber tie holding his hair in two loose spiky ponytails as he moved his head. 

“Okay, kid. I believe you.” Choso smirked.

Twisting his body, Yuji pressed his back against Y/n’s chest. She wrapped her hold around his smaller frame, allowing his little arms to lay ontop of hers, then reached his other hand out to hold the edge of his brother’s pillow. Choso could feel his tiny legs folded, Yuji’s knee pressing against his side. The kid was never one for a normal sleeping position, Choso thought to himself. 

Nuzzling his head against the plush mattress, Yuji peaked his eyes open and gave his brother a soft smile. The hand clutching Y/n’s arm gave a squeeze as his sleepy voice mumbled,

“I love you, big brother… I love you, Y/n…” 

“I love you too, Yuji, sweet dreams.” Y/n leaned down to press a loving kiss to the boy’s forehead. Pulling away, she brought her hand up to stroke at his light pink strands. Choso smiled to himself at the sight, then reached his hand out to pinch at the excess of skin on his little brother’s cheek. 

“Love you, little man. Sleep tight.”

A stillness enveloped the room in a circle of quietness, the sound of Yuji’s faint breathing followed by light snores being the only steady sound. Choso waited a few minutes before reaching for the remote and turning the volume up slightly, their mutual resistance to having Yuji listening in now wiped clean. Although both had their outward attention focused on the movie playing, neither were mentally zeroed in on it. In fact, they were both thinking about the same thing, thinking about what Yuji had said; having kids, getting married, spending the rest of their lives together. 

Of course this was a common thought that roamed around in Choso’s head, he had just never realized he wasn’t the only one who thought about it. Cracking a smirk, Choso settled his arm around the middle pillow supporting Yuji and placed his hold on Y/n’s shoulders. His fingers unintentionally tickled her skin and her body subconsciously melted into his touch. Letting out a chuckle, Choso turned his head in her direction, 

“Can’t believe my kid brother is trying to steal my girl from me.” Y/n laughed at his remark, amused by the idea of Yuji wanting to marry her when he grows up. It was a sweet gesture in her eyes and made her feel grateful that he held such a high opinion on her. Of course, it was his elder brother Y/n planned to wed, the thought meant the absolute world to her. 

“I don’t know, babe, give it a few years and he just might do it.”

Choso lolled his head to the side, a look of idiocy gracing his features as he rolled his eyes. Grabbing her free hand he brought her fingers up to his face and pressed his lips against her ring finger. Although the finger was bare of jewelry at the moment, Choso was determined to change that fact soon. Without Y/n’s knowledge Choso had been saving a portion of his work checks on the side, saving for a sparkling diamond ring to adorned her hand.

Knowing his girlfriend, Y/n would accept a bread bag tie or a ring pop even. Money wasn’t something they were swimming in, and she loathed the rare occurrences Choso would splurge on her. However, Choso wanted her to have a diamond ring- no, he needed her to have one. After all she had helped him through, all the times she had been there for him and his brother, Choso wanted her to see how much he truly appreciated her, so no ordinary ring would do for him, it needed to be perfect. Laying her hand against his chest, Choso narrowed his gaze playfully. 

“You’re talking like I won’t have a ring on that pretty finger and you tied down to me by then.” Laughing at his statement Y/n simply shook her head at him. 

“I’m already tied down to you, Choso. You’re stuck with me forever.” Y/n teased, sticking her tongue out momentarily to tease him. She knew if he had asked her to marry him right then, she’d say yes, zero hesitation in her answer. It was no secret that she planned on spending the rest of her life by his side. 

“Good, ‘cause I wasn't planning on letting you go.”

Yuji stirred between them, faint groans of tiredness breaking from his lips as his body jerked in his sleep. Y/n retracted her hand from Choso’s body and soothingly ran her fingers up and down the child’s back, silently lulling him back to his peaceful sleep. Yuji cuddled further into her hold, a sigh of contentment escaping his parted lips. Choso watched the two, his heart fluttering as Y/n effortlessly brought comfort to his brother without even a word. 

Glancing up to her quiet boyfriend, Y/n sent him a sweet smile.

“Are you staying up for a while?”

“Yeah, I’m not too tired yet but I won’t be too late.” He nodded. It was no secret Choso had adopted a poor habit of staying awake until the sun rose, especially on the weekends. No matter how much effort Y/n devoted to breaking this habit, it lived on.

Propping herself on her elbow, and cautious for the child in between, Y/n reached across the space between the couple. Receiving the unspoken message loud and clear, Choso turned his face, allowing opportunity for their lips to touch as he kissed her sweetly. The exchange was short and loving, but Choso took every advantage of the moment as he relished in the feeling of his lover pressed against him. His lips greeted hers in a passionate embrace, despite their awkward positioning. A tiny hint of a smile cracked through her lips as Y/n pushed her lips against his, gentle yet determined to prove her love, which he effortlessly felt. Pulling apart, Y/n grinned up at him as she leaned back into her spot on the bed, snuggling up against her pillow. Blinking her e/c eyes up to him, a stroke of red flushed her s/c cheeks as she blushed. Y/n could spend the rest of her life kissing her lover and still would never grow old of the butterflies his lips released inside her soul. 

“Okay,” She whispered. “Turn the tv off at a good time, you had a long day.” Choso’s hand ran along the top of her head, petting at her hair with a gentle smile. His insides fuzzed at the sincerity to her words. The caring nature Y/n held always had him feeling so loved and looked out for, it truly meant the world to him. 

“Thanks, pretty girl. You’re always taking care of me… well, us.” He gazed down at his sleeping brother. Y/n leaned further into his loving strokes as she reached her arm gently across Yuji’s body to lay still against Choso’s chest. The action was simple, but the effectiveness was strong. A chorus of chills danced down his spine at her touch to his bare skin. There was no element of sexualizing to her touch, no hidden agenda, no further want but a safe place to rest.

“You say that as if two don’t take care of me as well. We all need each other.” Y/n argued. A comfortable silence greeted the pair as Choso basked in the comfort of her hand against his skin. The movie on the TV played on deaf ears while Y/n’s eyes slowly grew heavy in weight.

Reaching around his shoulder Choso grabbed the wine glass from the night stand, bringing the glass to his lips he sipped the red liquid, feeling his body relax at the taste. Red wine had always been a favorite of his, a taste Y/n had developed a liking to after multiple tries of her lover convincing her it was the superior choice. Many things had changed in her life after Choso and Yuji, such as red wine over white, nights in over nights out, and sharing the bed over sleeping alone. 

Choso set the glass down, opening his mouth to make a remark about how the chilled beverage was now warm and apologize once again for the bump in their night, when he was suddenly taken aback by the look on his lover's face- the love pouring from just one look. 

“About tonight-” A quick roll of the eyes and a motion of the hand caused Choso’s words to fall flat against his tongue. 

“Don’t. I wouldn’t choose anything over this.” Y/n smiled.

Careful for the boy laid between them, both leaned across the mattress, unable to resist the need to feel her once more, allowing their lips to meet in the middle. Choso’s hand curled around the side of her face, his thumb caressing the skin as his lips devoted all the passion and love his heart could express. His soft kiss brought a sense of home to Y/n, her hold clasping on the back of his neck, not allowing a chance to break. She swore she could feel her heart physically warming as his lips moved against hers, savoring every moment of his love. Every kiss they shared held a piece of their love, yet this one was received stronger. 

Pulling away, Y/n leaned her forehead against his, quickly pressing a final ‘goodnight’ kiss to the corner of his lips, causing a smile to rise. Even in the poorly lit room Y/n could see the red rush of blood to his cheeks. Leaning back she cozied herself underneath the heap of blankets, allowing Yuji to cling to her once more in his asleep state. Resting fully against her pillow, Y/n looked up to Choso one last time before allowing her heavy eyes to finally shut for the night. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.” Choso whispered through the still air. 

It didn’t take long for her even breathing to be heard and he was certain she had fallen asleep alongside his brother. Silently slipping out his phone from his side Choso snapped a series of photos of the two snuggled against one another, a grin adorning his lips as he did so. Yeah, he thought, I’m putting a ring on that finger real soon.

[atlasofthestaars]

[MK X READER] New Era - Chapter .001

Note: Will use events from Mk9-11 + Aftermath. I am changing canon for some characters to fit the story. Changing canon in general for MK1, so at some point I will add in scenes not in the main story and probably will diverge from it in the end. Some character personality changes, not major, but enough to add depth. Slight character dynamic changes (Mostly Lin Kuei, so the trio feel slightly closer as a whole)

Also excuse the small exposition dump that happens through the chapter, it was needed to set up plot points in the future, so in the future we can get to those juicy character interactions easier!

LOVE INTERESTS: Liu Kang, Kung Lao, Raiden, Johnny Cage, Kenshi, Reptile, Scorpion (Kuai Liang), Sub Zero (Bi-Han), Smoke, Shang Tsung, Mileena, Kitana, Ashrah, Havik, Rain

Also on AO3: NEW ERA

part two

FROM THE EYES OF ONE WHO DOESN'T REMEMBER

Memories are fickle things. 

Awakening in the middle of a field, you heard the buzzing of bugs, and the grass beside you moved as a creature scurried past. Your head hurt, and a fog settled in your mind as if it were blocking something. You sat up slowly, noting the moonlight shining down on the area around you.

You looked down at your hands. It was odd, it felt like you were familiar with it, yet at the same time it felt all too foreign to you. You wiggled your toes, feeling the grass brush against them to remind you that they existed. 

Where were you?

Swallowing any dread you felt building up, you stood up wearily. Your body swayed as you got up, almost stumbling into the grass once more. The area around felt devoid of humans, undisturbed nature spreading far. It was beautiful and breathtaking, but it only soothed you for a moment before panic began to seep back in again.

Where were you?

In the distance was a soft light. A flame? Perhaps. You dragged your feet as you walked towards it. You’d rather go discover whatever that was then stick around being lost wherever you had woken up. 

Why were you there in the first place? 

Fear was crawling down your back at the inability to answer the nagging questions within your head. Shaking it off, you continued on. The closer you got, the better you could identify where the flame was from. 

A temple of sorts?

It had a dragon motif from what you could see, and it was constructed mainly from wood and stone. Red shingles, or at least you assumed it was…it was hard to see in the moonlight, lined the rooftops of the temple ahead. The tree leaves even seemed to be red. There were multiple buildings, one being a tall tower, and a few smaller buildings. The flame, which was quite large from what you could see, was lit in a pavilion of sorts.

Your mind throbbed as a vague memory of a temple floating in the sky appeared in your mind. But this wasn’t that same temple. Not at all. Why were you thinking of that?

Soon enough, you found yourself at the entrance of the area, marveling at the architecture and the beauty of the area up close. How wonderful. Eventually, you spotted two figures walking towards you. 

The first thing you noticed was their glowing blue eyes.

Not knowing what to do, you stood there. Although you felt a pit of dread build up in your stomach as they approached, you stood unwavering. You grimaced, not at the sight of them, but at how the figures coming closer seemed to intensify a dull throb that had been building up in the back of your head.

Silly as it was, were they the cause of your headache? Of the fog in your head that seemed to block out any memories you tried to pry from your mind? 

You watched as the two figures, that you could now identify as men, approached. You could read a vague sense of concern on one of their faces, and the other held a sense of shock on his. They walked over a bridge, stopping at the top as if to create a sense of height. You looked up at them, your will not wavering despite the dread that was building in your stomach.

Your headache, why was it hurting so much?

You watched as one of them held out his hands, forming one a fist connecting to his palm. He smiled at you. It felt warm. The other nodded his head in acknowledgement, but you could see the small smile he had as well. You stumbled as your headache turned into a sharp pain, as if someone had just stabbed your head. Gasping, you stumbled forward. 

The man who had been presenting his hands grabbed you to steady you, and you noted the strange sense of familiarity as he did so. His wrapped hands were firm as he helped you right yourself. You looked up into his eyes, and without thinking, a name popped into your head.

“Liu Kang?”

The dread you felt in your stomach turned into fear as the man’s eyes widened, and the vague shock that had been on his face before was now on full display. He glanced over to his companion who held the same look of shock before they both looked down at you, almost accusingly.

“How did you know that?”

That was years ago.

Shortly after the shock had worn off, you had been escorted into the fire temple. They gave you a place to rest for the night, but you could hear the whispers of Liu Kang and Geras as they walked away. What they were discussing, you weren’t certain.

You could hear the concerned tone in their voice loud and clear despite that.

The next morning in what was perhaps the politest interrogation ever, it was revealed that you had a lack of memories.

Kind of.

You had memories, or at least you thought so, but they were all jumbled up in your head. They felt wrong, and foreign and they didn’t match up with what you were seeing. After all, your mind was telling you the man who was interrogating you was Liu Kang…but it was not the same mortal man that popped into your mind. 

You also eventually recognized Geras, which seemed to alarm the two even more, even if they were subtle about it. Eventually, after long deliberation with each other, Liu Kang eventually came up to you and offered you a place to stay at the fire temple due to your lack of memory and residence.

You were relieved to have a place to rest and stay, even if you had a nagging feeling that the offer was a disguised excuse to keep a close eye on you.

You supposed that was fair.

Eventually, the memories you had came back slowly over the years, and you confided in Liu Kang about them. This led to an eventual friendship with the god as you unraveled the strange situation that you were in. The man, though cordial, had been wary at first of you. You thought that was reasonable. A random stranger showing up in rags and recognizing you without introduction?

That was suspicious for certain, you could not blame the fire god for his caution. Especially since he proclaimed himself to be the Protector of Earthrealm, you could have easily been a threat.

Thankfully, you were not. Or at least, he seemed to deem that you were not. Although you had a jumbled mess of mismatching memories, the two of you had concluded that the memories you did have were visions of sorts, of other realities, and that the memories you used to have were gone. 

Visions of other worlds traded for the memories of your past. That’s what he told you, anyways. You had a sinking feeling that wasn’t quite true, and that was the biggest secret you held from Liu Kang. After all, the more memories you regained, the less it felt that they were random visions. 

They felt like a past life…and maybe they were. You weren’t certain yet. You had a nagging feeling there were many memories left to unlock.

The guilt of hiding this doubt, this secret, was immense at first. Ignoring the fact that you were lying to a god, you were concealing doubts from a man who had offered you shelter and food.

Eventually the guilt died down into near nothingness, but there was still a twinge of guilt every time you lied about it.

Aside from that, you rediscovered abilities that you had not realized you had. 

Shapeshifting into animals. You could transform your whole body into creatures, or parts of them. It was a helpful power, you found. You also seemed to have some sort of muscle memory of fighting skills. Lord Liu Kang had once offered to train you, and to both of your surprise, you were quite skilled.

Rusty at first, but it was obvious your body knew how to fight. It was nothing that years, or in all honesty, months could not fix.

Another ability you realized after a few years was how your body did not seem to age. Or at least, not in the same way humans did. At first, the monks seemed to chalk it up to good genetics, complimenting on how you seemed to keep your youth. However, as more years passed, whispers of magic arose.

Concerned with the strange state of your body, you confided in the fire god. Liu Kang suggested that your body was one that lived longer, perhaps of one that was not native to Earth, or Earthrealm as he called it…an edenian, perhaps? He explained the realm of Outworld, and the existence of the realms in general. He had once explained it much before, along with some monks, but not to the historical extent he had given you at that time.

Through these explanations, you remembered Outworld much more clearly, but the memories of Outworld were once again inconsistent with the world he described.

The Outworld you knew had been run by a tyrant before it was passed to an heir that had been overthrown. It was war hungry, and not at all pretty as he described. Liu Kang offered that, perhaps, when the Mortal Kombat tournament rolled around in a few years, you could join him and the champions he would bring to Outworld.

You agreed, of course. Maybe that realm was key to unlocking more memories, and more explanations. Even though you cherished the Fire Temple, a place you had learned to call home, you now had a purpose going forward.

Go to Outworld to seek the rest of your memories.

And now, you were here, enjoying another peaceful morning in the Fire Temple.

Staring out from the pavilion, you inhaled deeply as you took in the sunrise. You could never tire of the beautiful view. Your ears picked up the soft sound of someone walking towards you, and you turned around, already familiar with who it was. 

“Hello, Liu Kang.” You greeted, a smile on your face as you nodded towards the fire god. The fire god sent you a soft smile in return as he walked up to be by your side. Due to your memories of a younger, mortal Liu Kang that had popped up so often at first, you had taken up a nasty habit of addressing him casually. You tried to fix this, but he had permitted you to address him casually in private.

It felt like a strange honor.

He greeted you, your name rolling off his tongue in a familiar way as his hands settled on the railing much like yours were. It was common for the two of you to meet up here at sunrise, to indulge in the simple yet breathtaking view. It was a tradition from years ago.

“Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Liu Kang inquired, much like he did nearly every morning. He gazed at the horizon with a sense of serenity and peace before his glowing eyes landed on you. With a chuckle you turned your gaze to the horizon he had been staring at previously.

“It is, just like it is every morning.” You mused, watching as the sky lightened, the darkness making way for the pretty light blue hues as a pink and orange color settled over the horizon. Your fingers tapped the wood as you hummed, remembering that something special was happening today. “Today we’re going to the village of Fengjian, correct?” You inquired, a surge of excitement buzzing through you.

You had been around the world here and there over the years to accompany Liu Kang and sometimes even the Lin Kuei, but it had been a while since your last venture. 

“Correct, Madam Bo said two of her trainees were ready for the exam scenario, and today we're going to observe.” Liu Kang said, nodding as he confirmed the plans he had told you about two weeks ago. You noted how he kept his gaze intent on you, as if analyzing your reaction. You could not hold back the smile on your lips.

“Excellent, it’s been forever since I’ve had Madam Bo’s cooking.” You commented, remembering just how delicious the older woman’s cooking was. You were nearly drooling at the thought of it. Not only that, but Madam Bo was someone you valued as well.

Whenever you saw her, you were reminded of a fatherly figure who you hazily remembered who drunk a lot of alcohol. It was odd, but she too must have sensed the connection, as she took you in as if you were a child of her own ever since she met you. You wished you could go out to see her more.

You opened your mouth to speak, but you heard the faintest of footsteps. Reflexively, you transformed your ears into those of bats and craned them around to hone in on the sound. You tilted your head as you focused before you turned to look at Liu Kang, ears turning back to normal.

“I thought the Lin Kuei were to come later?” You inquired, revealing that you were now aware of their presence. You heard some muttering before the three assassins revealed themselves. Sub Zero, Scorpion, and Smoke. Three of the Lin Kuei you had grown closest to during your association with Liu Kang.

“That was the plan, but we decided to meet up earlier to discuss the plan as we shall leave earlier to get in position to observe.” Liu Kang explained. The two of you turned around to face the three. You smiled at the three. Smoke and Scorpion both bowed to the two of you. Sub Zero, notably, did not, but you did notice the slight nod of acknowledgement sent your way.

“Perceptive as always, and I thought we could finally sneak up on you.” Smoke greeted, addressing you as he spoke your name, a light playful tone to his voice. Smoke was always the friendliest of the three, it was a delight to talk to him. He was the most casual. You noted the slightly irritated glare from Sub Zero sent his way.

You surmised that Smoke had managed to convince the two others to also sneak in. You could not tell whether the irritation was from having to partake in such a silly endeavor, or if it was due to the fact that he blamed Smoke for giving the three of them away.

“Maybe another time, Tomas.” You chuckled, covering your mouth as you did so. Despite your words, you were competitive, and you weren’t planning on giving up in the ongoing game that you had both been playing for a while now. “Regardless, it is good to see you all, it’s been a while.” With that, you nodded towards Liu Kang, letting him go over the plan with the trio.

You observed silently as excitement coursed through your veins.

You had a feeling that tonight was going to be something special.

part two

[evidenceof]

i have just said something ridiculous to you

Joe Toye has a nice face, George thinks. Strong nose, strong brows, and a scowl that George realized he liked to earn. Miles deep into 2nd Battalion's march to Atlanta, George Luz hears an Irish song from across their frozen campground.

happiest holidays, @blood-mocha-latte, my hbo war 2025 secret santa baby!! ♡ crossing my fingers and hoping i did their voices/headspaces justice. this present is brought to you by equal parts mary oliver's 'i have just said,' that you love, and toye's atlanta march predicament™. i very humbly give to you my very first luztoye fic.

I have just said something ridiculous to you and in response, your glorious laughter. - 'I Have Just Said' by Mary Oliver

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

December 1, 1942 | 2330 hours Campgrounds, 38 miles from Fort Benning

The butter tastes like nothing on his frozen tongue. George winces at the thin oily film it leaves behind in his mouth after he swallows. Too fucking cold, everything was too fucking cold. A ragged chuckle saws its way through his throat while he watches Perco fight a losing battle against his hard slice of bread. Eventually, he rips it in half, elbow colliding with the tent wall and almost costing them their flimsy shelter. A hundred and fifteen miles and they had to survive off of stale bread and pats of butter.

“The way we live you’d think we’re already at the front of the fucking lines.” Perco’s voice was muffled under a thick scarf. “I don’t know what’s worse. This or shit on a shingle.”

“Come on, we got it made.” George lights a cigarette, and flicks off his lighter in an attempt to sweep away any talk of war. “Sightseeing the backcountry, free food, free clothes. These fuckin’ boots? Babies are the best in General Patton's Third Army, so I’ve heard.” His boot lands back on the cold ground with a pathetic thump from where he lifted it. 

“Aw, shut up, Luz.” Perco shoves him backwards, hard, half a slice of bread still in his hand, but with a grin already plastered on his face.

Just barely missing the tent wall, George regains his balance. “All right, all right. Jeez,” he laughs. He presses his hand on Perco’s head to push himself up, earning him a scowl. “Gonna go find a fire before this thing collapses on us.”

The flap of the tent all but snaps in half when he throws it open. Ice crackles down the drab green canvas like peanut brittle. Outside, cold air smacks against George’s face as he takes in the columns of tents around him that stand frosted and gleaming in the moonlight. The temperature had dropped earlier in the afternoon, but tomorrow promised worse terrain because, as far as George was concerned, God had abandoned 2nd Battalion specifically. Why else would they be the only ones walking all the way to fucking Atlanta? There's thirty eight more miles and not nearly enough bad Sobel impressions in George’s back pocket to last them that far.

With a single drag, he polishes off the remainder of his cigarette. Squinting, he spots Lip and Guarnere in the middle of what looks like an attempt at walking without having to bend their knees. Their frosty puffs of breath mirror the smoke he exhales. He sees Lip’s hand raise to greet him at the same time a bad tune cuts across the field, louder than the muffled grousing from inside the pup tents. Only George whips his head towards the direction of the sound.

“Luz, what’re you up to?” Lip’s voice is firm. George doesn’t see, but he hears the smile in it.

“Better not be doin’ anything fuckin’ stupid. I’m goddamn tired of that pansy chicken-shit officer breathing down my neck all fuckin’ day,” spits Guarnere, digging his hands deeper into his pockets. “Sobel, I mean. Winters ain’t no chicken-shit at least.”

George doesn't expect the polite chuckle from Lip who's quick to follow it up with a stern, “Bill.” At that, Guarnere raises an eyebrow like a demanding child, a look that George knows he never let his ma see. “But he’s right, keep your head outta trouble, Luz. Got enough to deal with while Toye’s relegated to K.P,” continues Lip with a grimace.

George tips his head in the direction of the broken Irish song still flitting in the air. “That him?” The scowl on Guarnere’s face is confirmation enough. “What’d he do?”

“Go ask him if you’re so fuckin’ curious,” Guarnere sneers. “Hey, I’m serious Luz. Give Sobel an excuse to take away passes and I’ll shove a trench knife up your ass.”

George knuckles his forehead to mock-salute Guarnere and gives Lip a wink. “I’ll behave for you, Bill,” he sing-songs. It only takes him a second to quash his finished cigarette under his boot before his feet start moving towards the sound almost involuntarily. He finds Toye hunched over a fire, chin resting on his legs that are folded in front of him. Even tucked into himself, there was something intimidating about his angles. It’s those goddamn broad shoulders of his, wide like no one’s business. Certainly not George’s. He doesn’t recognize the words Joe is singing but the tune’s familiar enough. Once or twice, he found himself straining to hear it in the Toccoa showers. It almost feels like a shame to put an end to it. Almost.

“Thought someone was dying. Your bad singing why they’re making you do this?” chides George, nudging Toye with his boot before he takes a seat on the ground. 

Toye clenches his jaw in acknowledgment, any lingering mirth vanishing from his face. “Luz,” says Toye, already exasperated. George watches him jab the weak fire with a stick. The orange glow casts shadows on his irritated face. Nothing quite like pissing off Joe Toye. He has a nice face, George thinks. Strong nose, strong brows, a scowl that George realized he liked to earn. Even with the darkness under his eyes, Toye looks sturdy.

“Aw, c’mon Toye. Not happy to see me?” His teeth chatter and Toye’s lip twitches into the beginnings of a smile. “Lighten up will ya?”

A gust of wind makes them both adjust their scarves. From under his own, Toye shakes his head before glaring at the stick in his hand. George can see him weighing out the pros and cons of throwing it into the pit. “I did. Look where that got me,” says Toye, eventually.

“Hey, least you’re warm right?” George smiles at him while dislodging a clump of dirt from the sole of his boot to throw in Toye’s direction. When it hits the side of his leg, Toye barely flinches. So it was like that, huh? George digs his heel into the hardened ground, dragging himself closer to Joe. “So what’d you do? You can trust me. Who the fuck am I gonna tell?”

Toye continues staring at the flames like they’d done something to offend him. When he doesn’t answer, George inches forward, tracking cold moisture and mud on his trousers. For a moment he’s convinced Toye isn’t paying attention, but George sees how his eye twitches in time with the sound of his ODs scritching against the ground.

“Toye. Toye. Toye. Joe Toye. C’mon, buddy. Tell good ol’ George,” he says, slightly out of breath as he continues to drag himself closer. 

Bright dots of orange float up into the inky blue night when Toye jostles the firewood with his stick. “Not sure you wanna know, Luz,” he says gravely. “What, you need new source material or something? Running out of punchlines?”

“Me? Nah. Been practicing my Strayer,” says George, grinning. He’s not sure if he imagines the little nod from Toye. “When I get that pitch perfect, it'll last us ’til we ship out at least. You’ll fuckin’ see.” There’s caked mud on the ass of his ODs, he feels it. But now Toye was in perfect prodding distance and that made the journey worth it. With his fist, George nudges him once, twice, but he still looks like a goddamn statue staring at the fire, unmoving. “C’mon Toye. What’d you do?”

Nothing prepares him for how quickly Toye swivels his body towards his. He’s so close that George feels his breath on his cheek when Toye says, “You really wanna know? How about you ask me nice, Luz? Throw in a little favor?”

“Like what…?” says George, schooling his face into seriousness. Were Toye’s lashes always this long? George swears he feels the phantom brush of them against his goddamn forehead. He isn’t proud of the way it makes him miss a beat or causes that slight tremble in his voice. Nothing he couldn’t chalk up to the cold, he thinks. And he fucking would, if anyone asks.

“Like take over with these fires for me, you fuckin’ idiot,” growls Toye in his usual low gravelly voice. The white of his teeth catches the corner of George’s eye, then the pink of his lower lip. Damn. It feels almost too late when Toye thwacks the long stick against George’s chest and he nearly falls backwards. “My arm’s falling asleep.”

Clearing his throat to pull himself together is a decision George regrets immediately. It’s raw and cold like the rest of him. But he can deal with the shards of glass lodged into his windpipe better than the fucking knots that just erupted in his stomach. What was with that? He swipes the stick and turns to face the fire so that Joe is just a smudge in his periphery. From a few feet away, he hears Lieb and Alley laughing mercilessly. The thought of them witnessing all that makes his face burn, but he reminds himself everyone’s huddled in their own pup tents.

Toye's voice, resigned now, floats from beside George suddenly. It’s soft from fatigue. “Kid wanted to know what it felt like,” he says but doesn't continue. 

“What what felt like?” George pokes the fire. There’s a hiss and crackle of wood before Toye replies.

“What it’s like to pick up a skirt,” mumbles Toye, sounding embarrassed, forgiving maybe. “Says he gets nervous easy. He’s a buddy of mine from Dog Company, knew him from Pennsylvania, worked the coal mines together. He’s… you know? All stiff-like. Kinda like—”

“Like Winters?” George answers. “The fuck is wrong with you people from Pennsylvania. You born with a complimentary stick up your ass or what?” George wonders if that was too much, but he hears a huff from beside him—a sound that, from his limited knowledge, is the closest thing Toye gets to laughing. There’s a giddiness in his chest that tells him he’s been wanting to hear that for a while.

“Yeah. Yeah, like Lieutenant Winters,” replies Toye, less grave now. George turns to find him smiling down at the ground almost sleepily. It triggers a fresh set of knots right below George’s belly. It makes sense that the guy would ask Toye, George decides. With a face like that, eyes like that, he could bring home just about anyone he wanted. “Tells me he gets jittery, that friend of mine. Loses his fucking words. Needs practice. Needs advice,” says Toye. 

“Just need a face like yours.” It tumbles out of George’s mouth automatically. God, he wanted to shove one of the burning logs down his throat. But if Toye heard, he didn’t show it. Recovering, George continues, “What’d you tell him?”

Calm as anything, Toye lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I didn’t. Gave him a little practical exercise and pushed the guy against a wall,” he says with an even voice. From where he’s turned, the fire illuminates only a portion of his face. Even from a partial view, George could tell he wasn’t joking. Unsurprising; Toye rarely did. “Evans saw.”

“So he served you K.P. duty for jostling a guy? Sounds about right.” George laughs, imagining Evans’ prissy frown. “Your broads usually slam you against walls?”

As an answer, Toye smiles, all teeth, and George stops laughing. 

“It was nothing serious. Wanted to see how well he could come up with one of those lines of his in that position. Said he’s been practicing,” insists Toye. A tiny smirk tugs at the corner of his lip at the sudden shift in George’s face. “I was gentle though, but I think that was the problem. I, uh… I think he liked it.”

There was something about the image George couldn’t quite put together in his mind. He frowns. I think he liked it. 

“You shoulda seen Evans’ face. Kinda looks like yours right now actually, but less red,” Toye grins and George fights the urge to hide his head under his scarf. “Ripped my friend away from me and doled out the punishment. But really, the fucking kicker was him telling me to go see the chaplain. Fucking self-righteous asshole.”

“The chaplain? Since when the fuck do you need to—” Suddenly, it clicks in his mind, and he imagines the scene Evans must have walked into that night. Toye resting a hand against the wall beside the private’s face, the incline of his broad shoulders pointing inward, caging him. Gentle . Those big eyes and lashes too fucking close: Toye looking like the very picture of ease. Only in his head, George erases the face of the nameless PFC from Dog Company and replaces it with his own. Toye’s angles leaning towards him, lips inches away from his face, the feeling of his gravelly voice trailing from the tip of George’s nose all the way down under his shirt. He chokes a bit when he says, disbelieving, “No. Fuck, Toye. Nah, that ain’t right. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” says Toye tightly and looks up to glare at him. George can’t quite meet his eyes. “I was lightening up, remember?”

This close to the fire, George’s hands still feel like ice. “You’re insane, Joe. Fucking insane,” he says, trying to shake off the thought of Toye being close, peering up at a guy through his lashes like a dame. Suddenly, George’s trousers feel tight and his head was spinning in all possible directions.

“Didn’t hurt him. Was only trying to help. I was gentle, like I said,” Toye says lightly, voice already edged with sleep and without a trace of guilt. “Want a demonstration, Luz?”

“What, so you can get caught again? You plan on being K.P. until we’re shipped out?” George hears the higher register in his voice, and feels the way his heart rams against his sternum. He can’t look at Toye so he pokes the fire instead. A hot splinter flies onto his hand and he lets it sting, steering his full attention to the tiny patch of burning flesh.

Toye’s voice is thick with the lack of sleep, but more importantly is suddenly right behind George’s ear, brushing against the tiny hairs he didn’t know existed there. “I won’t tell if you don’t. I can keep a secret,” whispers Toye. George almost moans, but catches himself. It comes out a fumbling huff instead. The tightness of his trousers stop him from moving away.

“Well,” George tries to say. His zipper brushes against his skivvies and he almost jumps. If not for the jacket, the tented crotch area of his trousers would be on full display. Christ, he hopes Toye’s sleep-deprived enough to forget all this by the end of the march. “I can’t.” 

Toye laughs, fully now. George feels it on his nape, the hahas hitting his skin like long-burning coals. God, it felt good. 

“I’ll try it on you one day, Luz,” says Toye. George isn’t sure if he imagines Toye’s palm resting on his hip. It's too much and he feels like passing out. All the blood from his brain seems pool to right down into his crotch. It was getting harder to think, let alone respond. 

“You’re funny,” manages George eventually. Toye’s breath smells like Juicy Fruit, sweet.

“Yeah? I like surprising people like that,” says Toye, like a purr. When he moves away, Toye keeps the smile fixed on his face. The missing pressure of his hand leaves a cold mark on George’s side. So that was real. The affirmation only intensifies the heat below his stomach.

“You make a habit of shoving enlisted men against walls?” breathes George. It feels too good to keep this line of conversation going, everything in his body says so. But George couldn’t trust himself or his faculties. He was still thinking of Juicy Fruit in his mouth.

“Among other things.” Toye smirks lazily at him, and tilts his head up at the sky. George tells himself it’s the fatigue and the proximity to smoke that makes every word Toye says sound flirtatious. This fucking march had everyone acting strange, especially him.

“You are insane,” he says again, voice trembling. No way in hell was this guy a fairy. Didn’t fucking look like one anyway, all broad shouldered and angular. Nothing about him swished: not his fucking voice, or his fucking hips. Shit just don’t add up like that. But neither did the tightness in his OD trousers that didn't feel like it would disappear fast enough.

“A compliment coming from you, George.” Toye buries his face in his palms. “Fuck, I’m tired,” he says, the words drawn out of him like an exhale.

George watches his body sway slightly, tipping almost imperceptibly in and out of consciousness. “You sleep at all Joe?” Toye yawns as an answer; it shudders through him. He was just tired and spread thin, George thinks, they all were. And that got you acting different, that got you acting abnormal.

“No. But Evans still has it out for me. He’s lurking somewhere,” Toye says, not looking up from where George thinks he’s already fallen half asleep. The sharp angles of Toye’s shoulders droop, sagging under the weight of a second day without sleep. George lights another cigarette, finally, to keep his hands from doing something really fucking stupid like throwing a blanket over Toye and shoving his head onto his lap. Shit that guy from Dog Company can’t do, he thinks, feeling an odd barb of possessiveness while looking at Toye’s drooping head.

“Hey, I got this, all right?” argues George, gesturing at the growing fire.

“Shut up, Luz. I’m not looking for handouts.” But Toye’s voice dips in volume, belying the stubbornness in it.

“C’mon, Joe. You can’t be the only one handing out favors from the goodness of your heart,” George offers something like understanding. From his palms, Toye glances up at him, questioning. He’d look almost offended if he didn’t look so soft.

“Twenty minutes. Sleep. We got thirty-eight miles left in the morning and you look like shit,” continues George. Toye’s gaze doesn’t move away from him. So he stares back, feeling a little selfish, tracing Toye’s dark lashes and pink lips with his eyes. He wonders if they’ll ever get to sit this close again. “I’m saying if Evans comes around, I’ll charm him for ya.”

“Yeah?” says Toye, still looking at George, a small smile hooked on his lips. The sounds of the camp feel like they’ve all but disappeared. “Yeah. You’re good at that.”

His cigarette burns down to the filter but George continues to suck on it, unable to fish it out with his shaking hands that he’s hidden in his jacket pockets. They’re warm now, so it couldn’t have been the cold causing the trembling. He can still feel Toye’s laugh ricocheting on his neck.

Toye breaks their little staring contest and faces the fire. “Fine, twenty minutes.” 

“Sure buddy.” George watches Toye’s chin droop down onto his chest and his eyes flutter shut, lashes twitching. He’s asleep immediately. When he’s sure Toye was out cold, George fishes out a blanket from his pack and drapes the whole thing across Toye’s shoulders with a gentleness he didn’t know he had. “Take as long as you like.”

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[gruvu]

Been dragging my feet on this and so here are with the last piece of 2023 that I did. WITH a small intro into the story.

To summarize this stardew valley au, my farmer Beau ends up with a alien child and very much is living a horror film narrative for a hot second. Regardless it's just found family. Now down below is the first chapter, you don't gotta read it but if you do I hope you enjoy.

Warning: Injury detail of burns and mentions of war. Just a heads up if you're uncomfortable.

A full year and yet the sounds of the cabin kept the man awake in his sagging bed. The deep moaning of the structure reminded him constantly how he should have asked Robin for an estimate on updating the supports. He had been so wrapped up in getting this farm together, he hadn’t bothered much in his living space. And now with another winter coming, he became aware how unprepared he had been the first time. 

With a deep sigh he rolls onto his side, pulling the blankets over his head hoping to dampen the noise around him as the night moves on around him. The ticking of his clock began to finally lull him asleep only for the house to rattle then the rafters shook as something plowed through the top of the roof. A scream erupted from him as the sound of splinters erupted and could feel pieces of shingles falling upon him and the floor. Has the war reached the valley? No no, not possible! Regardless he scrambled out of bed, hurrying to his light and flicking it on as he looked up towards the rafters.

In the light dust was still sprinkling down from a circular cut though the top. As if someone had used a cookie cutter through the middle of his shingled roof. Almost perfectly carve out if only the wood hadn’t splintered. He could feel the cool fall breeze drift into his small farm house, making him hurry to grab his robe on the coat rack only to pause as he peers out the window. A soft pulsing blue light came from outside, coming from one of his recently cleared fields… “This is a horrible idea.” Beau mutters to himself, as he shoves his feet into his rubber boots before grabbing the club he had in the umbrella stand and leaving the safety of his home into the cool night full of strange dangers. 

The leaves rustled as he steps down the creaking wooden stairs, the pulsing blue light allowing him to find the disturbed earth as something had slammed and skidded through his field. His mind is going to the worst places, but if he could see it and run really fast maybe he could warn the town if there was any danger. Surely this wouldn’t be like one of those horror movies where the stupid teenager goes towards the danger right? CRUNCH. He yelps looking down as he hops away from the piece of metal, giving off a spark causing the man to hesitate to move forward. Wait.. Maybe it was just a satellite? For tv! Nothing spooky about that. With denial and curiosity at his back, he moves towards the impact site. Finding himself staring into the steam at… “What the..” He murmurs, squinting through the bright glow, his club lowering as the farmer draws closer. Using his hand to wave away the steam he could see what had landed in his field. It was a cylinder in shape, and slightly bigger than the barrels he used to age his cheese in the shed. The capsule of some kind wasn’t glowing itself but what it held inside. A fizzy, bubbling glowing blue liquid that began to dim down revealing something in it. Beau had to move around to get a better view, sliding a bit in his boots nearly colliding with the strange alien object. Now closer, crouching down to see the capsule better he squints into the odd substance. “Huh.. There’s.. There’s something.. In there.” He murmurs, as he moves his hand to touch the glass, at first yanking back thinking it was horribly hot only for him to find it only warm to the touch. There was something fleshy in there bobbing in the liquid, but at this angle it was hard to tell what it was. It seemed all common sense of fear left him as he tossed the club away to move the capsule upright, one of the two green lights on the “lid” of the capsule turned orange, a garbled static voice spoke out and sudden searing pain came from his hand. Panic took over as the farmer tried to pull his hand away only for it to stay attached to the top of the lid.

“H-HELP! HELP! SOMEONE!” He yells trying to pull away, not paying attention to the fluid inside the capsule in his panic. If he had, he would notice drops of what might have been dye were put into the capsule. A small mechanical arm inside with a metal needle poked the strange fleshy object inside, making it twitch in response. Then the orange light turned blue and the farmer tumbled back with a startled yell.

Laying there in the dirt, he held his hand in pain. Unable to see the wound in this light but it felt like a burn or something… He was definitely going to have to talk to the doctor about this. Sitting up now he looks towards the source of his pain, the capsule’s fluid inside a sickly green and bubbling like a freshly carbonated drink. He didn’t know what to do now, no one would be up. He would need to talk to Gunther because this clearly was no missile or any war related object. It was something else entirely and he was deeply afraid.

Staring at it for hours, even as the sun began to rise up over the mountains around the town of Stardew Valley, the farmer watched the capsule. Only when something rubbed against his back did he snap out of his sentry-like state.

“AHH!” He whips around, only to see his large gray and white cat, letting out a chirp in response to his yell.

“I- oh.. It’s you Yogi.” He relaxes, reaching out to touch her only to hiss. Looking now at his hand it was red and… Yeah he needed to go see Harvey.

Moving up to his feet, finding himself stiff only for his back to crack and then his neck. He needed to take care of the animals and-

His dark eyes drift over to the capsule now lit up in the early sunrise, a soft hum over the bubbling noises reminding him of its presence pretty quickly. 

He needed to get that thing somewhere locked up first. Then he could show Gunther, but with his hand. He would NOT be touching that thing again. Not without some kind of protection. The stiff farmer walked back to his cabin, his cat chirping at his heels along the way, cooling off his hand with some water and then wrapping it up in gauze bandage before getting properly dressed. He was trembling all the while, grabbing his large quilt to simply cover the capsule with it and dragging it into his shed and rolling it into a corner where it stayed glowing faintly. Beau tried to remain calm but all the while it stayed in the back of his mind as he fed his beloved barn animals. Thankfully he had to focus as he tried get milk only to struggle with the one hand, the pain did help keep his mind off things but it only made it clear that he had to also go to the doctor. Nine AM could not come fast enough.

~~~~~ “Beau the doctor will see you now.” “Thanks Maru.” He ducks into the back, wishing he could have grabbed some pickles or a cup of coffee for the doctor. Would soften the lecture that could be on his way. He knocks on the door and enters seeing Harvey check some notes only to glance up and smile at the farmer, sending Beau’s stomach into a fluttering of butterflies. “Good morning Beau. Maru tells me you hurt your hand. Why don’t I take a look.” He pats the table for him to sit on, all the while looking over the somewhat disheveled man. A slight frown of concern flickered for a moment before going to unwrap his hand tenderly. “Mmmgh.” He winces, pulling his hand back slightly. The doctor frowns, pausing his attempt. “Do you need me to stop?” “No no. I just.. It hurts.” “Well what did you do?” Harvey showed no judgment or disappointment as he continued to unwrap the hand. Truly expressing concern and worry for the man that had more than once ended up in his office with devastating wounds from the monsters in the mines. “...I burned it. I think?” Beau shrugs as his hand is exposed showing the bright pink skin, the entire flat of his hand was raw with his palm having a large burn in the shape of a neat square. The doctor looks down at it, his dark brows furrowed, having seen plenty of burns over his time here but it was odd. So clean and the area around the nasty burn was more or less fine. “What do you mean you think?” He raises a brow studying the burn. It wasn’t anything horrible but would need to be cleaned properly and ointment would be applied. “I.. I.. Don’t know what I burned it on. I couldn’t really see anything?” “Were you in the dark? Hit it on the stove top?” “I was in the dark.. Outside. There… There was this..” Beau wasn’t sure what to tell him, then again the doctor had treated him for flying lizards. “A thing. Like a mason jar but barrel size and it crashed and I touched it. And this happened.” “...You touched an unknown object that crashed?” “Yes! And it’s in my shed.” “In your shed...When did this happen exactly?” Harvey walks over to the desk door, poking his head out. “Maru, could you please get a bowl of warm saline and soap? Thank you.” He ducks back in to look at the farmer. Seeing his hair a mess, the trembling from the lack of breakfast and wide eyes. He was in distress and he came to the doctor for help. There would be no way Harvey would turn his back on him. “It.. It was early.. Early in the morning? One maybe two AM?”

“Have you been up since then?”

“Harvey I’ve had a consistent sleep schedule, I am not losing it over missing a couple hours.” 

“You would be surprised with little sleep you would do to someone… Why don’t you take me to see this mason jar during my lunch break.”

“Yeah and I can grab Gunther too or maybe Demetris? Someone has got to know what it is…”

“I am sure we can figure this out, but in the meantime I’ll clean up that hand and wrap it in some fresh gauze. Then you can lay down in one of the beds for a bit. Catch up on some sleep.”

“That…That sounds really nice.” Beau smiles a bit, his shoulders relaxing as a weight comes off his shoulders. Maru knocks and comes in, bringing the bowl and soap. Harvey thanks her and gets to work. 

Cleaning the hand with the utmost care and tenderness, being aware of how sensitive the burns were with even unwrapping. Drying the hand and putting ointment over the palm easing down the burns before dressed with dry clean gauze wraps.

“Reminds me of the first summer. When you had to rub aloe all over me.” Beau smiles trying to break the silence after watching Harvey tend to his hand. The doctor’s cheeks turned a soft pink as a smile appeared under the mustache.

“You were as red as a tomato. I told you to make sure you put plenty of sunscreen on.”

“I know I just got caught up with trying to clear out one part of the section.”

“Well we both know you could barely move the next day. I am just glad I had plenty of aloe for you.”

The two chuckle as the doctor finishes wrapping his hand. “Now I’ll get some painkillers and you can rest a bit.” 

The farmer nods, as the doctor pats his shoulder. The two walk back and Harvey gets him to lay down. All the while the humming in the shed grew louder as the color of the boiling fluid turned slowly from green into a more sickly olive. The form inside twitched and grew.

[elliebyrrdwrites]

Nott Manor looked like something that was built based on a Victorian Era Gothic novel. In fact, it was built during the Victorian Era after demolishing the old home that was wrought with decay and dark magic. The home sat on nearly 35 acres that had been passed through the male lineage and was located right in the middle of Derbyshire, surrounded by thick woods.

The home was all slate gray stone and bricks built into a three story manor that donned pointed rooftops and cylinder shaped columns on either side. The home had been there so long that the earth wanted to gobble it up. Ivy was growing alongside the front of the house and along the edges, almost all the way up to the second story. Age and weather darkened the shingles and along the edges, appearing to be a rather sad little home, even in the middle of a bright and sunny afternoon.

Overall, the home looked quaint, even for a manor that had passed through generations of Notts. But these lands were heavily guarded by dark magic and impenetrable wards. Not even the ministry bothered Theo. They knew what he did for a living, often hiring him themselves. But the history of the Nott family and the danger of entering into their land without Nott’s permission was too dangerous.

And beneath the home was the most wicked slice of property.

It was accessible through the woods that hugged the southside of the property. A cellar door was built into the middle of the woods and inside of this door, were stairs that led them deep underground. The cellars were stone and frigid cold. Moisture dripped from the walls, as if the land itself wept for anyone unfortunate enough to be placed within.

The cellar went deep and consisted of a very large, open room that held several small cells barred off. But each cell allowed a view into the middle of the room where a large, stone slab dais sat. A table for working on prisoners, adorned with leather straps bolted into the rock.

Currently, Cormac McLaggen was huddled into the cell furthest in, huddled against the stone walls and Draco could barely recognize the man. One of his eyes was so badly beaten that it was swollen shut and the skin was tight and black with blood that was trapped beneath the surface. He had a broken nose that appeared to be healed several times before it was beaten again and again. His golden brown hair was tainted red and his clothes were dirty and also covered in blood.

Theo went to town on him, apparently having a field day with him before allowing Draco to have his turn.

The sound of Draco and Theo’s shoes clipping against stone and dirt caused McLaggen to jerk his head up in fear and his back to press further into the corner.

His one good eye was following their every step as they stepped into view.

With his hands in his pockets, Draco tilted his head to appraise the man who fooled the world into believing that he was decent. Into making everyone believe he had coveted Granger only to willingly hand her over to a psychopathy.

The memory of the way Cormac’s hand had gripped on Hermione’s. The way he had tried to lure her with lust in his eyes and evil in his heart...it was enough to make Draco want to kill him now.

And, he could.

He could kill him quickly, with a curse. He could take his time, dismembering him as he cried out for help. He could do it anyway he chose, because nobody would ever know.

Nobody would ever find him. He’d shrink each limb down into little bite sized pieces and then toss them into the fireplace that Theo’s ancestors installed into this room for that very reason.

But, he had to stay focused. He needed Cormac to talk.

“McLaggen,” Draco drawled as he stepped up to the bars. “Enjoying your stay at Nott Manor?” Cormac said nothing, only gulped and lifted his chin in defiance. “You should feel lucky.” Draco gripped onto a bar and slid his hand up, looking around at the tiny cell. “Not many people get invited inside.”

Theo chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned his hip against the raised, stone slab in the middle of the room. Along the wall opposite of the cells were tools meant to cut, cut and inflict the most amount of pain onto the human body. There was no need a wand here, in order to make a man speak. Draco didn’t need the magic that thrummed inside of him as he watched the man cower away as Draco moved to the cell door. Because this man had willingly pursued a woman he never intended on dating. He only had ill intentions and Draco found it hard to feel any remorse for what was about to happen to him as Theo flicked his wrist and allowed the door to spring open.

Cormac pushed himself further into the wall, uselessly kicking his bare feet against the dirty floor. They slid and slid and he went nowhere.

Nowhere, at all as Draco slowly stepped inside of the cell and pinned his cold dead stare onto him.

It was easy to slide back into this colder version of himself. It was where he had to live most of his life, particularly in public. And it wasn’t until his father was arrested and put on trial did Draco allow himself to reach the tips of his finger out for a bit of something good and warm.

It was what allowed him to kiss Granger that day outside of the courtroom.

But remembering the way she had hugged him before he kissed her? The way she had responded to him when he did? It was what allowed him to slip into this terrible person he had dreaded becoming again. Because he would do it if it meant she would remain safe. He would do it if it got him the answers he needed to make sure she stays alive.

“You have been a very naughty wizard, haven’t you, Cormac?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Theo clicked his tongue against his front teeth and wagged his finger at the man, illiciting more fear to grow in his eyes.

Crouching down in front of him, Draco rested his elbows on his knees and peered at him. Cold, murderous eyes met wide, frightened ones and for a moment, Draco said nothing. He simply allowed the fear and anxiety to build and build as he waited for whatever may come.

When Draco inhaled, McLaggen winced. Draco smirked as he spoke. “I’m going to give you one shot, Cormac.” He held up a finger. “Just one.” His eyes refused to release Cormac’s. “To tell me everything I want to know. When you, inevitablly, fail to give me what I want, I will have to force it out of you.”

Theo started to bounce on his heels, Draco could feel the anticipation in his friend from here.

“And there is no need for Veritaserum, here.” Draco waved a hand over his shoulder, gesturing to the wall of tools meant for today’s session. “Because you will, eventually, talk. You will tell me everything I want to know or I wont hand you over to the DMLE. I will not take pity on you. You will remain her, enduring anything Theo wishes to inflict upon you, every day.” He paused and allowed his eyes to roam Cormac’s face, reading the fear and disbelief hidden in his eyes before he finished. “Until your body gives out and your mind has checked out.” He stood and slid his hand back into his pocket. “And then you will die here. Alone.”

He spun on his heels and jerked his head at Theo. “Shall we get started?”

Theo wiggled his eyebrows before rushing past Draco and into the cell.

Cormac started to kick and scream. “No, no. Malfoy!” He was clawing at the floor and the wall as Theo grabbed a foot and began to drag him across the cell floor and toward the stone slab.

Draco turned around to observe the archaic and primitive devices of torture when the sound of bone snapping echoed in the room before Cormac’s howl erupted.

Spinning around, Draco lifted a brow as Theo let go of the man’s foot. It was twisted at an unnatural angle and was already turning black and blue. It was broken, twisted and snapped at the ankle. Draco sighed and lifted something off of the wall.

“Really, Theo?”

Theo rolled his eyes and shrugged before pulling his wand from the holster on his chest and aimed it at the man. Cormac’s body levitated into the air before it landed, clumsily, onto the stone slab. The straps quickly cinched over his ankles and his wrists before they tightened and pinned Cormac’s body to the rock.

“I really felt like he needed a reminder as to who, exactly, we are.”

“You’re fucking Death Eaters!” McLaggen lifted his head and snarled before he descended into a groan of pain as his broken ankle strained against the binds holding him down.

“Actually,” Draco slid the device up to Cormac’s hand and shoved his fingers in. A large metal screwed was attached to two slabs of metal. Once one was to start twisting the screw, the top slab would lower and lower until the fingertips were crushed and rendered useless. “I was the Death Eater.” Draco sniffed and began to twist the screw, watching with intrigue, as the top metal plate began to lower. “Of course, I didn’t want to be one, mind you. But, if you’re going to go around throwing accusations, you may as well get your facts straight.” He huffed when the plate finally met the pads of his fingers. “But, you know, we are not the ones in question here, McLaggen.” He twisted and twisted and Cormac began to growl in pain. His one good eye squeezed shut as his groans turned into screams.

“Yes.” Theo hummed and tilted his head, watching the fingers turn red and then blue as the bones began to break beneath the pressure. “What are you, McLaggen? What kind of prosecutor gives his date a glass of poisoned champagne?”

Draco’s lips pulled back as he bared his teeth, twisting and twisting the screw until skin began to break.

“I didn’t know it was poisoned!”

“Liar!” Draco stepped back and shoved his hair away from his forehead. “I saw Moore help you escape. You have been hounding Granger, practically begging her for a date.”

“Because I fancy her!” Cormac cried. “I’ve fancied her since school, you idiot!”

“Then why did you poison her?” Theo asked, calmly as Draco moved and grabbed a poker off of the wall. With his wand, he lit a fire and held it up to the tip of the prongs.

“I didn’t know it was meant to harm her.” He was panting through the pain, his eye wildly searching for Draco. “It was only supposed to knock her out.”

“Why?” Draco’s eyes glanced from the poker, to Cormac.

“Because I wanted to take her home with me. Moore told me that he would help me win her over.”

Draco snarled and stabbed him in the shoulder with the poker. “Win her over? How on earth would knocking her out win her over? What the hell did you plan on doing with her once you got her home, McLaggen?”

Theo rested his elbow onto Cormac’s chest and tucked his hand under his chin as he grinned down at him. “I think you should take his good eye, Dray.”

“His eye?” Draco frowned and pulled the poker out of his shoulder and held it up so that Cormac could see it. “With this?”

“Yes, he doesn’t need it to speak.” He batted his eyes down at Cormac. “Do you?”

Cormac was panting, gasping for air, his eye rolling around in pain. But he balked at Theo’s voice close to his face. “I wanted to fuck her!” He admitted, causing Theo to suck through his teeth and shake his head.

The heat of anger dissipated, and Draco was struck anew with that frigid cold. it was like death, seeping out from his pores. Death he could deliver to anyone he deemed worthy of it.

“You knew she didn’t want you.” His voice was just as cold. Just as dead.

“You or Weasley don’t deserve her!” Cormac’s angry was suddenly bursting out of him. “Weasley is a useless idiot and you!” He laughed. “You are nothing but the worst kind of trash.”

“And you?” Theo continued to dig his elbow into Cormac’s chest. “You, the mighty prosecutor with big dreams to turn politician? What was your end game? To force Granger into being your wife so that you could run for minister and have all of the support she fought for to be bestowed onto you?”

Draco could see Cormac’s death, now. It would be so fucking easy. And it would feel good. He didn’t want to use the poker. He didn’t want to use a knife or even a wand. He wanted to use his hands.

“She would have made the perfect trophy wife.” Cormac sneered up at Theo.

But Theo was smiling, serenely. As if Cormac had said exactly what he hoped he would have said. Unbeknownst to him or even Draco, tucked into Theo’s right hand which was resting on the slab just beside Cormac’s right side, was a knife meant for gutting game.

Cormac grunted as the blade jabbed into his side, right between two ribs, while Theo kept his eyes trained on his and watched the man grow pale as the knife twisted.

Theo was taking over for Draco because he had to. Draco was going to kill Cormac. And then they would never get the information they needed. And then his soul would be tainted in a way he had worked to avoid for years and years.

Because, he wanted to save his soul to match Hermione’s. The idea reminded him that she was at home, waiting for him. She knew he could be a bad man and she wanted him anyway.

Draco dropped the heavy, iron poker and watched Cormac flinch as it clattered against the stone. “Tell me about Moore.“

[thesightstoshowyou]

I....I want...period sexxx with the evil bug dilf...please... *offers a tribute*

Damn, I literally cannot believe I haven’t written this before now. Asa is perfect for period sex. Tribute accepted.

Also requested:

Let’s combine ‘em.

~~

Downpour

Asa Emory (The Collector) x AFAB Reader (NSFW)

Warnings: Dubcon elements, established “relationship,” period sex and blood obviously, cunnilingus, D/s dynamics, degradation, Asa doesn’t know what aftercare is, yes I’m obsessed with that jean jacket and work pants outfit he wears at the end of the Collection.

~~

The sky opens up a block from home. Ferocious rainfall soaks you to the bone in seconds and collects in the plastic grocery bag you carry. You jog up the sidewalk as fast as you dare in the torrent, your boots slapping through puddles that wet your jeans until they cling and chill your flesh.

You almost don’t see the truck through the downpour, but when you spot the old Ford parked in front of your house, you skid to a stop, rain all but forgotten. Heart now hammering frantically in your chest, you squint and find the cab empty. A glance at your porch does not reveal any hooded figures awaiting your arrival.

He’s already inside, then.

How he keeps getting in is beyond you. There are two deadbolts on your front door, you don’t keep a spare key hidden outside, and you are meticulous about locking all your windows before you leave for work. Still, this does nothing to deter him. If you asked how he does it, you’re certain he wouldn’t tell you. Your “relationship” does not involve this kind of conversation.

Swallowing thickly, you tentatively take the last few steps up your front walk. The old porch stairs creak under your feet and your palm slips on the dripping handle when you twist. The front door swings open with a squeal.

He left it unlocked for you.

The noisy deluge outside quiets when you shut the door behind you. The inside of your home is near silent, save for the rain pummeling the shingles and the clock ticking on the wall. What you can see of your living room is illuminated by the warm glow from a single lamp, its soft light shining directly on the chair beneath it.

As you strip off your soaked coat and shoes, thick water droplets audibly splattering to the floor, your eyes locate the dark hair of the motionless man resting in the chair, his back to you. The slither of paper—pages turning in a book—is audible in the relative silence.

“You’re late,” his gravelly voice announces. He still doesn’t turn to you.

“Had to stop by the store,” you murmur, doing your best to keep the annoyance out of your tone. If you had known he was here, you could have let him know you’d be late. But, you have yet to even learn his phone number.

You say none of this, however, your gaze instead falling to the little bag now dripping onto the floorboards. The corner of the package within glistens in the low light, having met a similar sopping fate as the rest of you. How are you going to break the news to him that he came all this way for nothing?

“Uh, Asa—

Abruptly, Asa clears his throat and stands, the book in his hand dropping to the side table with a quiet thud. Reading glasses follow with a clatter. Your eyes trace his back and you see he is wearing a jean jacket and tan work pants, like one would wear while working outdoors. Field work must be part of his job at the University.

Finally, he turns to face you. The look smoldering in his dark eyes forces all the air from your lungs. Any speculation of who he is beyond what you know of him vanishes, replaced by the prickling of your skin. Broad shoulders nearly fill your narrow entryway as Asa stalks toward you. It takes all your remaining willpower not to shrink back against the door like a frightened animal. Christ, he scares you, but….

Your heart leaps into your throat when he drops his glittering gaze to the bag at your feet. At least now you won’t have to tell him. He’ll spot the package of pads and work out for himself that your time of the month has arrived, and then he’ll leave, thoroughly repulsed.

Asa’s chest rapidly expands in a quick inhale. Slowly, his gaze creeps back to yours. The room seems to lurch and your stomach drops from the intensity in his stare. That’s not disappointment you find in his eyes.

All at once, he invades your space and this time you do stumble back against the door. Warm, calloused palms slip under your top to possessively grasp your waist and his lips are inches from your own when you utter a breathy, “Wait, I’m on my—

The words die on your tongue when Asa draws back slightly. His predatory expression freezes you in place and the fingers on your waist dig irritably into your skin. Deep in your belly, heat blossoms until your thighs ache with want.

Yes, he scares you, but his uncanny ability to drive you wild with need overrides all fear.

“Did I tell you to speak?” he asks, his tone colder than ice.

Hastily, you shake your head. You squeak out a “No, Sir,” when Asa raises a scarred eyebrow. You’re going to end up with some new marks if you keep fucking up.

His jaw tenses before he dives back in to claim your mouth in a bruising kiss. He swallows your surprised gasp as his fingers deftly work your rain-soaked pants open. Asa startles you when he kneels and rips your pants and underwear off your legs with one, quick yank.

His impatience is palpable as he lifts one of your thighs over his shoulder and immediately dives in to drag his tongue along your bleeding slit. You choke on a cry, your fingers flying to his crown. They hover there, centimeters from digging into his hair and you thank whatever deity is watching over you that you hadn’t touched him. The punishment that would have earned you….

Asa sucks your clit into his mouth, his hum of approval derailing all thought. Your hands raise over your head to grip the transom frame for balance while his own hand presses against your chest, fingers splaying out to keep you still. He laps at you with fervor, like the scarlet dribbling down your thighs is the first meal he’s had in days. Your hips roll in time with his tongue, your moans rising in pitch as you inch closer and closer to the edge.

Hearing it in your voice and feeling it in the way your thighs quiver, Asa snaps out a strained, “Cum. Now.” You can’t even respond, your tongue losing its ability to form words when your eyes roll back in your head. Pleasure rolls through your belly, tidal waves of ecstasy.

“Fffffuck-fuck-fuck-fuck—t-thank you, thank you Sir,” you whisper through the haze, barely remembering your manners. Asa instantly jumps to his feet, fingers now tearing open his own pants. Across his mouth violent red is smeared, like a lion who just tore into a fresh kill.

For a moment, you are bewildered. You’ve never been with anyone who was willing to eat you out on your period, let alone with such unbridled enthusiasm. Indeed, he seems more eager than usual to engage in his weekly habit of fucking you stupid. The thought makes your toes curl.

You are not given long to ponder before Asa lifts you clean off your feet to pin you to the door with his body weight. You wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he grips handfuls of your ass and lines his cock up with your slippery entrance.

He surges forward, instantly burying himself to the hilt in your cunt. The resulting shriek is muffled by his shoulder. Your overfilled, overstretched muscles spasm and ache, your back arching in an attempt to ease the hurt.

Asa grunts and his teeth find your ear to coo, “Oh, did that hurt?” You can hear the smile in his voice, but can only respond with a strangled whine. Asshole—

Your knuckles blanch, such is the grip on his shirt when he viciously snaps his hips. A groan slips from your gritted teeth because, god it hurts, but you’re also certain you’ll die if he stops. Your slick hole, wetted by blood and arousal squelches with every sharp thrust and fills the entryway with the debauched sound of your need.

In your ear, Asa pants. Your lips find bare skin at the place where his neck meets his shoulder. It’s difficult to kiss him with the wanton moans and mewls spilling unchecked from your mouth, so you just scream them into his flesh instead. Pain is a memory. Only mounting ecstasy remains.

“I think you like bleeding all over me,” Asa growls, his bared teeth set against your ear. His words send you barreling dangerously close to the precipice all at once, almost too fast to stop.

“Sir, p-please!” you cry, your voice tight, every muscle in your body seized to keep you from climaxing without permission.

A breathy chuckle greets your plea, followed by a snide, “Already?” When you squeal in desperation, he relents. “If you must.”

You careen off the peak, molten pleasure rippling through your gut and setting your skin ablaze. “Thank you, Sir,” leaves you as a relieved groan. Appreciation for his mercy takes top priority, after all.

Your blissful reprieve is short-lived; you realize too late that Asa is still rock hard within you. A yelp leaves your panting mouth when he rips his cock from your still twitching channel and all but drops you on the floor. You’re flipped onto your front, hips lifted, face smashed into wood by a wide palm on your cheek. He’s back inside you so quickly your dazed mind hardly registers the change.

Then, you’re screaming all over again as Asa hammers you into the floor. The wet slap of bloody skin reverberates off the narrow walls while your fingers scrabble for purchase along the floorboards. Your palms slip in puddles left behind by your drenched clothes, so Asa’s fingers dig into the meat of your hip to keep you in place.

He leans over you, his frame covering yours to growl near your ear, “We worked on this last week. Let’s see how much you retained. To whom to you belong?”

“Y-You, Sir!” you whimper.

“And what are you?”

“A-a—fuck—receptacle for S-Sir’s cum.”

He hums in response, his tone dripping with condescension. “So there is something going on in that empty little head.” You grit your teeth and whine, his words making you leak down your thighs despite their cruelty.

Much to your chagrin, Asa’s brand of mean is your drug of choice.

He straightens and begins to tense behind you, his pace never losing its ferocity. The twitching of his cock heralds the warmth that fills your cunt, but it’s the strained groan he utters that nearly makes you sob with appreciation. Asa’s vocalizations are so rare, each one seems like a gift from above.

You sigh and express your gratitude for his cum. When he slips from your battered slit, you slump into the sticky puddle of blood and spend that has formed on the floor. That’s a problem for the future, you decide. For now, you’ll catch your breath and bathe contentedly in the post-pleasure haze.

Silently, Asa stands and steps over you. Each boot fall rattles the wood on which your cheek still rests. You hear water running in the sink, then the rustling of clothing being righted. You wonder how much of a mess you made of those tan pants.

You roll on your side as he returns. Without a word, he strides past you and dons his raincoat, pulling the hood up over his head. Hinges squeal and the smell of rain billows into your entryway, carried on a cool breeze. He doesn’t so much as glance over his shoulder before slamming the door behind him.

With a groan, you let your head fall back against the floor with a quiet thunk. Outside, a truck engine rumbles to life and roars off down the street. Now, there is silence once more, save for the ticking clock on the wall and the downpour rattling the shutters.

[katsukikitten]

A zombie apocalypse au for @medusashima collab! Find the collab master list HERE! Be sure to give the others a read too!

Warning: graphic, violent, and sexual content intended for adults 18 or older.

Synopsis: Shelter isn't hard to come by in the End but good, untouched, shelter is. When you find paradise in the middle of a dead field in the shape of a 900 square foot home you start to break a few of your important rules. Always keep moving and don't help anyone. Especially if that anyone is a hot headed blonde bounty hunter sent to settle score you'd rather forget.

Peachy Keen Master List

Chapter One - Never overstay your welcome, keep moving

Winter

It scares you at first, the mummified body facing the door in the cramped living room of the home you found tucked away in a field of corn long past it's harvest. 

Petrified you, like the farmers that sat facing one another. In wooden rocking chairs, gnarled fingers slack around the handles. Coming closer to inspect and seeing no signs of teeth marks or infection. Letting loose the held breath you kept as deft eyes looked over every liver spot and wrinkle in the leathery skin. No fluid on the hardwood floors beneath their rocking chair or in the blankets around their shoulders. 

And by some miracle, the cold, the house didn't smell like rot. 

You figure they must have died earlier this winter, it lasted damn near since October as the Earth naturally cooled in the fall of the human race. 

With critical climate change hitting irreversible levels and long lasting damaging effects in just a few short decades, Mother Nature took matters into her own hands. Doing what she does best. 

She evolves, she changes and grows, makes a deadly cocktail of pathogens and fungi that rids her realm of blight. 

Humans. 

You were just surprised a nuclear war didn't wipe humanity off the map first. 

You hadn't meant to live this long, six whole years in the apocalypse, honestly you were one of the many who'd rather take their own lives. Least then you had a say in how and when you went. 

But the body has a funny way of forcing you to survive. To dissociate in some feeble attempt to keep the body going for an organ that tortured itself daily with endless, grueling tasks and for what? 

So you could experience your first kill? Watch your friends and family die when the Feds bombed cities instead of trying to quarantine sections? Of you walking until your feet bled, fleeing the city just to live in the outskirts to hear the screaming and wails as the undead met the living? Tied to a tree limb with your worn belt to sleep or maybe it was so you could loot the dead man for his tent but not without putting a bullet between his eyes as a parting gift first. 

No longer does Grim accept the coins laid upon the eyes of the dead. Now payment for a safe travel down the river Styx is paid with the bullet lodged into the third eye of the deceased.

A tradition sure to be passed down to the generations to come.

Despite the rage you've aimed at yourself for still living, the home was a welcoming sight. The old farm house made of gray cinder block, stout in the field of the tall stalks that you yearned to see each sweltering summer when you were stuck in the city before the world went to shit.

Now the sight of the dried crop makes the nostalgia coat your tongue thickly, like the bitterant of a large pill.  

You think you choke when you swallow. 

Still even with the two harmless corpses it was an amazing find. The shingles of the roof are all in tack and the old wood stove holds the reminiscence of a charred log and ashes. 

Logs lining either side that would last through the winter and then more still kept under an open awning out back. Plenty of birch wood to burn white smoke making you sigh in relief. 

First things first and with the few hours of sun you had left you needed to get to work burying the couple. Half debating over taking their rings that were about to fall off before thinking better of it. 

Grabbing the shovel from the makeshift shed and going to the edge of the corn field out back. Only you were stubborn, stupid enough to fight the frozen ground as you shoved the sharp spade into the Earth. Moving it to your will as sweat collects on the inside of your thermal undershirt making it stick to your back and the nape of your neck uncomfortably. 

Your calloused hands protect you from the biting wood as you spend the better part of your day light going six feet down. Using the height of the shovel as a measuring stick.

I wonder if their kids and grandkids will visit. I'll have to make a good marker so they won't miss it. 

And then it hits you. The realization of what you're thinking. Fat droplets blurring your vision as you chide yourself over wasting quickly dwindling time. 

You hadn't even cried when you watched your friends being torn apart from the force of the bomb but here you were crying over two strangers and their imaginary family.

Except they weren't imaginary were they? They were hung neatly throughout the home. 

Ya know the multi generational home that you planned to squat in. The one with the warped photos in warm senpia of when the family first arrived and built the modest country home to the vibrant color photo of the grandparents smiling ear to ear as their kids and their kids' kids stood on the still sturdy porch with corn cobs in their small hands. 

Another sob racks through your body forcing you to take a break from carving out your last foot hold so you could climb out of the grave you'd just dug.  

Should you start digging your own now too? 

Since no one else was going to be around to do it. 

Once you're back in the house you try to think of the logistics of bringing the pair out. You start with the wife, taking her delicately preserved body with the blanket around her shoulders. 

"’Xcuse me." You murmur to her as you lift her up, surprisingly light compared to the other corpses you've carried or moved. Careful to avoid banging her up against the door jamb accidentally before you make it out the few yards to the edge of their little property. 

Easing her down into the hole using the long and strong quilt that she must have made until you could slip it from beneath her to bring the fabric back up. 

"Sorry." Another involuntary pleasantry as you scoop the husband and his quilt up. Repeating the same action until he rested beside her as much as he could be. Dropping the first and second quilt over them as if tucking them in. You just hoped they wanted their holy matrimony to be reflected in the after life as well. 

Rooting around in your pocket for the few spare ammo you've got left. 

"For the toll." You murmur dropping a bullet each before tackling the grueling task of shoveling dirt back into the hole you half killed yourself to dig. Returning to the house only to place their wooden rocking chairs at the foot of their grave before heading inside for the night. 

Telling yourself not to look for their names, refusing to and that the wooden rocking chairs would have been enough. 

But it gnaws at you as you move around their furniture to better suit you, as the old wood stove fills the home with a warmth, with a luxury, you've long since forgotten.

Knowing full well she would have been the type of woman to have a farmer's log. 

A handwritten one or a more accurate family log written in the old bible that sat on her night stand. 

You left it alone, thankful they hadn't died in their queen sized bed as you moved it into the living room frame and all. 

The moon shining bright over head, peering in through the kitchen window over the sink as if to check on you. To see if you were still awake. 

And of course you were, when was the last time you've ever had a restful sleep? 

Your mind back to the "holy book" specifically the one with the worn leather and cracked spine. Even to the end the wife was a woman of faith, a bible open on the coffee table that you quickly used for kindling. 

Because what has God ever done for you?

He sure as fuck wasn't as merciless as he claimed to be.

Although he'd given her and her husband an easy enough death hadn't he? 

You were sure the rest of her family didn't meet the same gentle fate. 

In the end there was only one true God and that was Death. 

Ever waiting and watching, coming to steal you away before you could even blink with nothing to show you ever existed at all save for your own headstone, least til that crumbled away.

You jolt out of bed, rushing towards the book as if it whispered your name all this time and now it was shouting. 

Screaming, demanding your undivided attention until you flip open the front cover. Old cursive greets you as the pages sigh, rolling over birth and death dates until you're forced to flip to the back, finding the first two names without death dates but plausible birth dates that would line up to their age and the End. Slamming the generations old book as you rise. 

Finding yourself outside, bare foot. Knife in your hand and your breaths coming out in ragged puffs. 

Scrapping along the tops of the wooden rocking chairs like a woman possessed, carefully carving the letters into the headrest of the rocking chairs.

Stepping back in a fever to admire your work, feet numb from the biting cold ground before you turn on your heel. 

They echo back to you as if you'd carved each curving letter into your psyche instead of the smooth stained grain. Unsure if the haunting was that of thanks or scorn and you were sure a poltergeist was the least of your concern.

Even as you drift the names burn your retinas as if to remind you whose home you spent the night in. 

ASTRID     EMROY 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning you find yourself trapped in the house by deep snow so you poke around the home. Rearranging some things here and there but not to disturb the personal belongings just yet. 

Even though you know you won't stay long, never breaking one of your many rules that lead you to survive this long. But why not disturbing their belongs matters to you, you aren't sure. 

Maybe it's the way that this home is untouched. Truly loved and lived in, while the other houses you've squatted in were long since looted. Ransacked and trashed, taken back by the unforgiving weather and those desperate enough to defile what was once someone's home.

For others, their Hell within four walls and maybe the big End meant nothing to them anyway. Besides, it wasn't like you weren't one of the many who rooted through homes and hissed when you found nothing of use, just fading photographs and old DVDs and CDs. Shit that didn't matter now.

Right now you were mostly looking for a good pen with a plan to roughly guess the year so you could add the rough date beside their names and put their bible up somewhere. As if compelled to end their chapter properly so that they may live on despite, their bloodline most likely having died long before them. 

The couple really didn't have much and you were sure if you tried you could dedicate one small wall and bookshelf to their personal belongings to honor them. The thought makes you suck your teeth, so easily you cling to sentimental bullshit, out of spite now their things would be lucky to be stored away in a box. 

On the dusty coffee table are two sets of coasters, tops well worn from sweating drinks, a black leather book and a copy of The Great Gatsby with a broken spine. 

The book peaks your interest, hadn't read it since highschool and even then that felt like a foreign memory. Of harsh fluorescent lights that buzzed loud enough you were sure you'd go deaf to them after having lived in silence for so long. Tossing the tattered paperback onto the old wood top before your fingers grab for the worn leather spine, flipping the pages to see dozens and dozens of entries.

You settle into the old couch, the fire in the wood stove keeping the place warm as the sun lazily bleeds in through the windows to provide you with just enough light to read as you flip it open you're met with a threat.

If ya settle here ya better watch over our goddamn farm. 

The cover page makes you snort, flipping the thick page to consume what you could, hoping there would be some hints on where they stashed their canned goods and supplies. Even if it didn't provide you with anything, at least it helped past the time.

Jan 31 20XX  Six years after the "Rapture" 

It's ain't all fucking peachy keen as I'm sure ya can see and I'm comin to realize that I ain't built to live forever.

And if I was, I couldn't imagine a worse hell than this. 

If ya settled here in our little house I've got some rules. 

No drinks on my damn coffee table without a coaster. I got plenty of 'em. The ones from my birthday (they got cats on em but the paint'll be rubbed off by now I'm sure) or the ones Emroy made outta small trees. Hell use a book if ya gotta. 

Two, you best sweep this home. I don't care where ya came from or who ya came from, what god you do or don't worship but there is one thing for certain, house as old as this has a spirit and ya best keep it happy. Open the front and back door (good cross breeze in the sweltering summer) and you sweep my damn house. 

Or I just might be the spirit that haunts ya. 

Reckon that's it. So I'll quit my belly achin and step down from my soapbox to learn ya a thing or two.  

Now if you're a country folk and from 'round these parts y'all'll know two things. When snows a coming, or rain, y'all can smell it real easy in the air. Can't tell ya the smell but if you know ya know. And the second being it always snows heavier in the next coming weeks before spring than it will in the dead of winter. 

Now if you're from the city or just can't smell like ya used to, Bets the cow will be able to tell ya. She won't come out, simple as that and by the next day snow'll be up to your knees and Bets will look at you like she told you so.  

Hopefully she'll live that long, seems this disease ain't affecting the animals like it is us folks. Reckon we didn't pray hard enough or some preachy shit Gran would've said. Now if the cow ain't there to tell ya, the farm log will. Use yer head, you'll see the pattern even with the blasted greed fueled heat spikes. It's best to prepare for the worst. We've enough canned rations to last us a lifetime in the cellar but Emory and I are old as dirt, it won't last forever but as long as these hands can can, they'll can what he grows. 

Emory, my husband, says hello. Wants me to tell the "stranger" that's you I reckon, that the Great Gatsby is worth the read and that if ya find yourself with nothing to do, which ya will eventually, you should read it. 

Go on now, get back to surviving and be sure to dust my damn picture frames too. 

Yours truly,

Astrid & Emory. 

Pushy. You think to yourself but relish in the fact that old folks like to ramble, even in written form. Quick to explore the home to find the cellar doors in the fading short lived light of winter before realizing the age of the home. 

Shit, it's probably buried under a whole foot and a half of snow, you could exhume it now but you and twilight always seemed to have bad luck. 

It's when you've been raided most and almost bitten more times than you can count and after finding this place you don't wish to push your luck. Even if the undead were few and far between in bumfuck nowhere. 

Flipping open the cabinets in the kitchen you find a few manufactured canned meats. Fingers smoothing out the old label for any sign of denting or damage that could lead to botulism. Finding none makes you pop open the can to sit atop the old black wood stove, glass casting the room in a soft orange that rivals the sunset. It makes you pull the blinds closed in caution, not wanting any light to attract unwanted guests and when the wind howls you wrap tighter in one of the many blankets lying around. 

Three days pass and there is only so many times you can study the farm logs and widdle wood into pitiful shapes with your dull knife before you drive yourself mad. Still avoiding the books for now in some sort of spite or rebellion to God knows who before you're outside and bundled up. Shovel in hand as you scrape the metal spade all along the foundation of the house until you hear a satisfying tink. 

Your luck would be to start in the wrong direction and have to walk all the way back around the house just for the damn thing to be on the left side of the back porch instead of the right. Shoveling away the icy snow before coming across the wooden cellar doors. You wonder if you'll have to replace them soon but your curiosity of the future dies when you spy a combination padlock. Sucking your teeth pull a bobby pin from your hair, straightening it out and wiggling it between the rusting dials, scraping it around before feeling the soft give of the locking mechanism. You jab roughly and the lock pops open making you smile as if you hadn't picked anything ten times as hard. 

Taking the steps into the deep cellar where the air was cool yes but warmer than outside. As if it were deep enough in the Earth to stay a balmy fifty degrees even in summer heat. Flash light paints the darkness in harsh white when you spy a candle and a box of matches into an enclave built right into the old cobblestone. 

Once the fire flickers to life you switch your flashlight off, pocketing it as the candle washes the old glass jars and few metal cans aglow. 

Jarred jerky catches your eye first as you snatch for that, then a small jar of syrupy looking strawberries, as bright red as when they were first picked, making your mouth salivate. The place neatly organized and labeled, the metal cans of all of those beef stews that were upstairs despite there only being enough of those left to last through this winter. Even if you stretched them out with water. Finger following the shelf lining to try to find more sweet fruit coming across the word peaches under a layer of dust. 

Delight you look up, just to find the shelf empty and the sight of it makes you snarl. 

But at least you had your strawberries. 

They taste like late spring, like your childhood when you'd pick the berries at the local farm. How the sun beating down on your back made them taste that much sweeter in the field. A little reward paid by the sweat on your brow and the money your mother would toll out for the fresh fruit. 

Well, well worth the price. 

Spring is coming like her book says and you sweep and dust her house.