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goldfades · 7 months ago

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friday night lights | JOE BURROW⁹ [010]

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MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4.6k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested -> how joe and reader met? we know they met in high school, sophomore year but id (and i’m sure everyone else😅) would love a little flashback chapter!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | descriptions of partying, underage drinking, kinda slowburn? shy girl x football player trope, maisie being protective, nothing else!

The first time you met Joe Burrow, he wasn’t Joe Burrow, not yet. He was just a tall, lanky sophomore quarterback with an arm everyone talked about and a quietness that made him feel like a walking question mark. Athens High was small enough that everyone knew everyone—names, faces, family stories that spread like wildfire—but Joe? He wasn’t loud enough to grab the attention of half the school, not until football season started.

You were sitting on the bleachers during a pep rally, Maisie beside you, her commentary on everything from the band’s uneven tempo to the cheerleaders’ synchronized high kicks keeping you thoroughly entertained. The players were being introduced one by one, each jogging onto the gym floor to varying levels of applause. When they called Joe’s name, the cheer was louder, a steady roar that vibrated through the walls, and you found yourself craning to see what the fuss was about.

There he was. Light blond hair a little messy, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, hands tucked into the pockets of his letterman jacket. He didn’t wave or puff out his chest like the others; he just gave the crowd a small nod before retreating to the back of the lineup. Something about him—his quiet confidence, maybe—caught your attention, and you didn’t quite know why.

“You’re staring,” Maisie muttered, not looking up from the doodle she was adding to the corner of her math notebook.

“I’m not,” you whispered back, even as your gaze lingered a second too long.

That was the beginning.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, at a biology lab you’d been forced to pair up in, that he really spoke to you. Joe wasn’t your usual seatmate, but he slid into the stool beside you with a polite nod, his long legs awkwardly folding beneath the too-short lab table. The two of you were tasked with dissecting something unreasonably gross—a frog, maybe? You couldn’t remember now. What you did remember was Joe, his steady hands cutting through the assignment with precision, and the way he chuckled softly when you accidentally dropped a scalpel.

“You’re not a fan of this, huh?” he asked, his voice low but teasing.

You wrinkled your nose. “Not all of us dream of gutting things for a living.”

“I’m not gutting anything for a living.” He smirked, a tiny flash of mischief in his otherwise calm demeanor. “I throw footballs.”

It wasn’t the smoothest line, but it was enough to make you laugh, and that laugh seemed to encourage him.

From then on, he started showing up more. A quick wave in the hallway, a quiet “Hey” as he passed you in class, and the occasional comment during shared group projects. It was nothing monumental, just small moments that began to stack, like bricks in a wall you couldn’t stop building.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Maisie warned one afternoon as the two of you sat on the steps outside the school. “Guys like him don’t date girls like us. They go for easy cheerleaders, not girls who can barely talk during a book report.”

“I can talk during a book report,” you shot back, even though it wasn’t entirely true.

Maisie raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “I’m just saying, keep it realistic. He’s an athlete. You’re… you.”

You knew Maisie didn't mean to be discouraging, she was always the realistic one between the two of you. You watched rom-com's, and was a hopeless romantic—and Maisie, well... she wasn't the romantic type. She meant well, she just didn't want to see her best friend get her heart shattered by a stupid (her words, not yours) blonde quarterback.

But despite her skepticism, you couldn’t stop yourself. Each time Joe said your name or offered a lopsided grin in passing, the crush rooted itself deeper. It was innocent, for now, a quiet hope you kept tucked away like a secret note in your locker.

And then one day, Joe did something that changed everything. Something so small, so simple, that it left you reeling. He stopped you in the hallway between classes, his book bag slung over one shoulder, his blue eyes holding yours for just a beat too long.

“You going to the game Friday?” he asked.

You blinked, startled. “Uh… maybe?”

“You should.” He shrugged, shifting on his feet. “It’s gonna be a good one.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing there, your heart thudding in your chest like a drumline warming up before a halftime show.

The walk to Maisie’s car after school was peppered with her usual commentary about the injustices of teenage life. Something about how the cafeteria's pizza was an actual health violation, how Mr. Harper’s pop quizzes were a form of psychological torture, and how group projects should be banned by law.

You let her vent, only half-listening, your mind replaying Joe’s voice: “You should.” It wasn’t like he’d asked you on a date or anything, but it was the first time he’d gone out of his way to talk to you outside of class. The possibility of seeing him again on Friday made your chest buzz, but Maisie? Convincing her was another story entirely.

“So,” you began casually as you slid into the passenger seat, trying to find the right approach. “Are you going to the game Friday?”

Maisie turned the key in the ignition, her ancient Honda sputtering to life with a groan. She shot you a sidelong glance. “Why? Are you going?”

“Maybe,” you said, a little too quickly.

Her eyebrows rose as she backed out of the parking spot. “What’s this about? You hate football. You called it ‘organized concussion practice’ last month.”

You shrugged, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “I don’t hate it. And it’s not like I’m going for the game. I just thought it might be fun, you know? Something different.”

Maisie narrowed her eyes, the car bouncing slightly as it hit a pothole. “Different like sitting in the freezing cold with half the school, pretending to care about a sport we don’t understand?”

“You don’t have to pretend to care.” You grinned, nudging her arm. “You can sit there and make fun of people like you always do. It’ll be fun. Besides, you never know, you might actually enjoy it.”

She snorted. “The only thing I’d enjoy is the halftime show. And even that’s debatable.”

“Come on,” you said, dragging out the words in a way you knew would get under her skin. “We haven’t gone to a single game this year. Don’t you think it’s time to show a little school spirit?”

“I have plenty of spirit,” Maisie deadpanned. “It’s just not for sports. My spirit is reserved for things that matter, like protests and pizza Fridays.”

You groaned, leaning your head back against the seat. “Maisie, please. Just this once?”

She glanced at you, her expression softening ever so slightly. Maisie might’ve been a certified cynic, but she wasn’t immune to the rare moments when you genuinely wanted something.

“Why are you so set on this?” she asked finally, her tone skeptical but not dismissive.

You hesitated, the truth bubbling at the edge of your lips. “I don’t know. It just… feels like something I should do.”

Her eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to the road. She let out a dramatic sigh, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. “Fine. I’ll go. But if anyone spills nacho cheese on me or tries to talk to me about touchdowns, I’m leaving.”

“Deal.” You grinned, relief flooding through you.

Maisie muttered something under her breath about friendship being a burden, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. You knew she’d show up in her usual no-nonsense way, probably armed with a thermos of hot cocoa and a thousand sarcastic comments, but she’d be there.

And as the two of you drove home, her complaining fading into the background, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, Friday night would be more than you’d ever expected.

┈┈┈

The bleachers were packed, the air alive with the buzz of small-town Friday night energy. The faint smell of concession stand hot dogs wafted through the air, mingling with the sharp chill of early autumn. You tugged your jacket tighter around you, glancing at Maisie, who sat next to you with an impressive scowl already forming on her face.

“See?” she said, motioning to the field where the players were warming up. “Organized concussion practice. Case in point.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled despite yourself. “You promised you’d keep the snark to a minimum.”

Maisie held up her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave. But if someone tries to start a chant near me, all bets are off.”

The two of you settled in with a group from your biology class—a group you hadn’t hung out with outside of school before but were surprisingly easy to be around. They handed out popcorn, passed around a bag of Sour Patch Kids, and made corny jokes that Maisie laughed at more than she’d ever admit. Even you found yourself relaxing, letting the game wash over you as something fun instead of a chore.

“Okay, what’s happening now?” Maisie leaned over to whisper as the players jogged off the field and the marching band took their place.

“Halftime,” you explained. “This is the part you said you might like.”

She raised an eyebrow, watching as the band launched into a spirited rendition of some pop song from two summers ago. “Well,” she said slowly, “it’s not bad. Kind of catchy.”

You grinned, nudging her. “See? Told you this wouldn’t be so terrible.”

“Don’t get cocky,” she warned, but there was no venom in her tone.

By the fourth quarter, even Maisie seemed invested, clapping lightly when your school scored and muttering curses when the refs made questionable calls. You didn’t know what surprised you more—that Maisie was actually having fun or that you were, too.

But as the clock ticked down to the final minutes, you couldn’t help but scan the sidelines, searching for the number nine jersey. Joe had been on fire all night, his throws sharp and precise, his presence commanding even from this far up in the stands.

When the buzzer sounded, signaling your school’s victory, the bleachers erupted in cheers. Maisie rolled her eyes at the whooping and hollering but clapped politely.

“Alright,” she said, standing and stretching. “You got your football experience. Can we go now?”

“Just a sec,” you said, your gaze locked on the field.

You spotted Joe near the fifty-yard line, surrounded by teammates and fans congratulating him. But it wasn’t the crowd that caught your attention—it was her.

A girl with shiny brown hair and a bright smile leaned in close to Joe, saying something you couldn’t hear from this distance. She had that effortless kind of prettiness that made you feel frumpy in comparison, and the familiarity with which she touched his arm sent a pang through your chest.

Then he hugged her.

It wasn’t a quick, congratulatory pat on the back, either. It was one of those hugs that lingered, the kind that looked like it belonged in a rom-com montage.

Your stomach dropped.

“Hey,” Maisie said, nudging you. “You good?”

You forced yourself to nod, blinking rapidly against the sting in your eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Maisie frowned, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t push. As the two of you made your way down the bleachers, you couldn’t help but glance back one last time. Joe was still standing there, his arm slung casually around the girl’s shoulders, his grin easy and warm.

It shouldn’t hurt this much, you told yourself. He wasn’t yours. Not really.

But as Maisie led you out of the stadium, chattering about the game, you couldn’t shake the ache in your chest—the kind of ache that only comes when you realize you care about someone more than they care about you.

The girls from your biology class caught up with you just as you and Maisie were about to leave the parking lot. They were breathless and giggling, their faces flushed from the cool night air and the excitement of the game.

“Hey!” one of them called, waving you down. “There’s a party at Megan’s house—like, right now. You guys should totally come!”

Maisie raised an eyebrow, already halfway in the car. “A party? At Megan’s? Isn’t she the one who turned the chem lab into a glitter bomb last year?”

“That was iconic,” one of the girls said with a laugh. “Come on, it’ll be fun! You can’t just go home after a game like that.”

You hesitated. Parties weren’t really your thing, and you could already see Maisie gearing up for a sarcastic excuse to say no. But something in you—the part still stinging from seeing Joe hug that girl—felt like rebelling. Like shaking off the evening’s disappointment and pretending, for a little while, that you weren’t someone who usually played it safe.

“Why the hell not?” you said, surprising even yourself.

Maisie froze, her hand on the car door. “Excuse me, what?”

“Come on,” you said, grabbing her arm. “Let’s go. It’ll be fun!”

Maisie groaned but let you pull her along. “You owe me for this.”

Megan’s house was already packed by the time you arrived, music thumping loud enough to shake the front porch. The air was thick with the smell of beer and cheap perfume, and the living room was crowded with people laughing, dancing, and shouting over each other.

It started with a drink—just one, you told yourself, to loosen up. But one turned into two, and before you knew it, the edges of the world felt softer, the music louder, and your inhibitions practically nonexistent.

You danced in the middle of the living room, your arms thrown around the girls from your biology class, laughing so hard your sides ached. Maisie watched from the couch, shaking her head but smiling faintly at your antics.

The party had only grown wilder as the night went on. The living room was now packed shoulder-to-shoulder, the music loud enough to make the floor vibrate under your feet. You were too buzzed to care about the sweaty press of bodies or the occasional elbow that jabbed you in the side.

Maisie was still parked in her corner, sipping from a plastic cup and looking suspiciously at anyone who came too close. Your biology classmates were dancing near the kitchen, laughing so loudly you could hear them over the music.

And then you saw him.

Joe stood by the far wall with a cluster of his teammates, their broad shoulders and easy grins making them look like they owned the room. He was in the middle of laughing at something, his head tilted back and eyes crinkled in that stupidly charming way. You should’ve looked away, walked the other direction, anything.

But you didn’t.

You blinked hard, trying to ignore the ache in your chest, and did the only thing that made sense in the moment—you grabbed another shot from a passing tray and threw it back. The burn of the alcohol made you wince, but it dulled the edges of your hurt just enough to push you back into the safety of your friends.

Hours later, the party had become a blur. Your legs felt like jelly, the walls swayed slightly every time you moved, and even Maisie’s sharp voice sounded muffled through the haze.

“I think I need the bathroom,” you slurred to no one in particular, pushing off the couch and wobbling on unsteady feet.

“You need to sit down,” Maisie snapped, grabbing your arm.

“I’ll be fine,” you mumbled, waving her off. “Just… the bathroom.”

You stumbled into the hallway, squinting at the doors as if one of them might magically open and guide you inside. Instead, you bumped into something solid—someone, actually.

“Oh, crap, sorry—”

It was Joe.

His hands caught your arms gently to steady you, his expression shifting from surprise to concern the moment he got a good look at you. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

You yanked your arm away, wobbling but determined to keep your balance. “I’m fine,” you muttered, glaring up at him.

Joe frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. “You don’t look fine. What’s going on?”

“Nothing that’s any of your business,” you snapped, stumbling past him.

But instead of letting you go, he followed, his concern overriding any annoyance he might have felt at your tone. “You’re drunk,” he said plainly, his voice quieter now. “Where are you trying to go?”

You paused, the fog in your brain making it hard to come up with a snappy reply. “Bathroom,” you finally said, crossing your arms.

Joe nodded, stepping ahead of you. “Come on, I’ll help you find it.”

You wanted to argue, to push him away and tell him you didn’t need his help, but your legs were too wobbly, and the spinning hallway wasn’t exactly making things easier.

He walked a few paces ahead, glancing back every so often to make sure you were following. When you stumbled again, he sighed and offered his arm.

“Just take it,” he said, not unkindly. “You’re gonna fall on your face if you don’t.”

Grudgingly, you grabbed his arm, leaning into his steady warmth as he led you toward the bathroom door.

“Why are you being nice to me?” you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.

Joe paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. “Because I care about you, even when you’re mad at me for no reason,” he said softly.

You didn’t have a reply for that. Instead, you pushed the door open and stumbled inside, closing it behind you before he could say anything else.

And for the first time all night, you let yourself breathe.

The bathroom was a blur of fluorescent light and tiled walls, and you were grateful for the brief reprieve from the chaotic party outside. Splashing cold water on your face helped a little, but the dizziness still lingered, and standing upright felt like a Herculean effort.

You took a deep breath, steadied yourself, and opened the door, stepping out with as much dignity as you could muster—which, unfortunately, wasn’t much. Your foot caught the edge of the rug, and before you could even process what was happening, gravity had its way.

But you didn’t hit the ground.

Joe caught you, his hands firm on your arms as he steadied you. “Whoa, easy,” he said, his voice low and calm. “I told you you’d fall if you weren’t careful.”

You glared up at him, more out of stubbornness than actual anger. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.” He didn’t let go right away, his eyes scanning your face like he was checking for signs of serious damage. “Come on, you need to drink some water.”

“I don’t need anything,” you shot back, trying to pull away.

Joe’s grip loosened, but he didn’t back down. Instead, he reached for a nearby table and grabbed a half-full bottle of water, holding it out to you. “Just drink it. Please.”

You crossed your arms, teetering slightly on your feet. “I said I’m fine.”

“Y/N.” His tone was firmer now, his brow furrowing in that way that made him look unfairly mature for a high schooler. “You’re going to feel worse if you don’t drink this.”

You stared at the bottle like it was some kind of enemy, but the dizziness was getting worse, and deep down, you knew he was right. With a heavy sigh, you snatched it from his hand.

“Fine,” you muttered, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip.

“More than that,” Joe said, crossing his arms as he watched you.

You gave him an exaggerated eye roll but obliged, taking a few bigger gulps. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” he replied dryly, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Before you could respond with another sarcastic remark, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“There you are!” Maisie appeared, her expression a mix of relief and exasperation. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“I’m fine,” you said, though the wobble in your step betrayed you as you tried to stand straighter.

Maisie’s eyes narrowed as she glanced between you and Joe. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Joe nodded, stepping back slightly but keeping his gaze on you. “Good. She needs to get home.”

“Don’t tell me what I already know, Burrow,” Maisie snapped, looping her arm around yours to steady you.

Joe ignored her jab, his focus still on you. “Get home safe, okay?”

You hesitated, the mix of hurt and exhaustion making your chest tighten. But something in his tone softened the edges of your frustration.

“Thanks,” you murmured quietly, avoiding his eyes.

Maisie tugged you toward the door, muttering something under her breath about quarterbacks and their egos. And as the two of you stepped out into the cool night air, you couldn’t help but glance back once, catching Joe’s silhouette in the doorway before Maisie pulled you forward, back into the safety of the night.

The weekend had come and gone, leaving behind a swirl of emotions and half-remembered moments that made your stomach twist uncomfortably. Every time you thought about the party—about Joe, specifically—you felt a warm flush crawl up your neck, a mixture of embarrassment and residual irritation.

By Monday morning, you were determined to put it behind you. High school wasn’t exactly forgiving, and you didn’t need rumors or awkwardness to complicate things further. But as you moved through the crowded hallways, your resolve was tested.

“Hey, Y/N.”

That voice was unmistakable, and it froze you in your tracks. You turned to see Joe, casually leaning against a locker like he hadn’t caused your entire weekend to spiral into emotional chaos.

“What do you want?” you asked, crossing your arms defensively.

Joe blinked, surprised by the sharpness in your tone, but he quickly recovered, his calm demeanor intact. “Nothing. Just saying hi. How was your weekend?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “Are you serious?”

He tilted his head slightly, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Yeah… why wouldn’t I be?”

It was the last straw. The memory of him laughing with that girl at the game—hugging her—flashed in your mind, and before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out.

“Why don’t you ask your girl instead?” Your voice was biting, louder than you intended, and a couple of students walking by glanced over curiously.

Joe straightened, his brows knitting together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The girl from the game,” you snapped. “You were all over her. Maybe you should talk to her instead of bothering me.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, the hallway noise fading into the background. Then, to your utter disbelief, his lips curved into a slight smirk.

“That?” he said, his tone dripping with casual dismissal. “That wasn’t anything. My teammates set it up, said she wanted to meet me. It was awkward as hell.”

You blinked, thrown off balance. “Oh.”

His smirk deepened, and his eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “You got all worked up over that, huh?”

“I wasn’t—” you started, but the words died on your tongue. You couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and your silence only seemed to amuse him more.

Joe leaned in just a fraction, his voice low and teasing. “You’re kind of cute when you’re jealous, you know that?”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you muttered, your face heating up.

“Sure you weren’t.”

Before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. Joe didn’t wait for you to gather your dignity; he just fell into step beside you as if nothing had happened, launching into some story about his weekend. You were too flustered to do anything but follow along, grateful he wasn’t pressing the issue further.

By the time you slid into your seat in class, the embarrassment had settled into a dull thrum, manageable but still present. Unfortunately for you, Joe wasn’t done.

“Hey,” he said, leaning over slightly so only you could hear. “Do you have a crush on me or something?”

The question was delivered so casually, with that same damn smirk, that it took a second to register. Your head snapped toward him, your eyes wide. “What? No!”

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly unconvinced. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not,” you hissed, your face feeling hotter by the second.

Joe chuckled, leaning back in his chair with an air of victory. “Whatever you say.”

You glared at him, but he just winked, turning his attention to the teacher as if he hadn’t just completely unraveled you.

For the rest of the class, you couldn’t focus on a single thing except the stupid, smug boy sitting next to you. And, much to your chagrin, the smallest part of you couldn’t help but feel a little flattered.

After that Monday, things shifted. Slowly, but surely, you and Joe began spending more time together. It started with small things—casual conversations during passing periods, shared laughs in class, and stolen moments after school. Joe had this way of sneaking past your walls, of making you laugh when you wanted to roll your eyes. And you couldn’t deny how easy it was to be around him, even when Maisie shot you knowing looks, muttering, "Don’t get your hopes up.”

By the end of the football season, it felt natural to meet him after games, even if it was just to say a quick hello or give him a high-five. But one game—toward the end of the season—was different. You could tell something was on his mind, the way he fidgeted and avoided eye contact as you approached him on the field, your jacket pulled tight against the November chill.

“Hey,” he said, his voice unusually soft.

“Hey, good game,” you replied, smiling up at him.

“Thanks.” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he did when he was nervous. “Uh… I wanted to ask you something.”

Your heart did a little flip. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. “Would you… uh, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

You blinked, stunned for a moment, before a wide smile spread across your face. “Yes.”

Joe’s face lit up like you’d just handed him a championship trophy. Without warning, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you off the ground, spinning you in a circle as you laughed, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. When he set you down, he was grinning like an idiot.

“Really?” he asked, still holding onto you.

“Really,” you said, laughing at his excitement.

From that moment on, you were inseparable.

High school with Joe was a whirlwind of late-night drives, studying together at the library (where he mostly distracted you), and cheering him on from the stands. He became your biggest supporter, whether it was at your own events or just encouraging you through tough classes.

Maisie, of course, remained skeptical of Joe for a while, but even she had to admit he wasn’t the worst when he went out of his way to make sure you were happy.

High school was full of memories like that—Joe getting overly competitive during group projects, Maisie rolling her eyes at his antics, and the three of you becoming an unlikely trio. But the sweetest moments were the quiet ones: Joe waiting by your locker with his easy smile, the two of you walking hand-in-hand through the halls, and the way he always made you feel like you were the most important person in the world.

By the time graduation rolled around, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. And from the way he looked at you as you crossed the stage, you knew he felt the same.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x reader #cincinnati bengals #joeyb #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine #nfl fic #nfl football #nfl imagine

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madelynraemunson · 2 years ago

Text

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!x reader)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI | BOOK #2 (S.H.)

Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series (completed)

* loosely inspired by Sara Cate’s “Salacious Players Club” series

🔥 EXTRA CONTENT HERE 🔥

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016** , 017, 018, 019, 020*

* = somewhat smutty chapters , ** = smut chapters

Summary: 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓. After getting kicked out by your brother, you have no other choice but to take off your big girl pants and add stripper to your resume. Desperate to pay the bills and support your little sister, are you willing to accept the risks that come with such a perilous profession? With the stage name ‘Shy Girl’, you take the leap of faith, weaponizing your divine femininity to steal the hearts of all the bachelors in Hawkins — including Eddie Munson’s, the owner of Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club.

warnings & disclaimers — slow burn, eventual smut (a lot of it), voyeurism, mutual pining, sexual tension, jealousy, drug/alcohol, profanities, sexual harassment, domestic violence

Welcome to Hellfire.

theme song: meet you in hell by jade lemac “Look me in my eyes. I know that you’re scared. You see yourself and you cry for help. Look me in my eyes. Tell me it’s not fair. If you taught me well, I’ll meet you in hell.”

Chapter 001: Wolves

The Hargroves are cursed. Generationally, that is. One night Billy takes it too far, costing him the only thing he had left... his sisters.

TW — abuse, domestic violence, blood, profanities, implications of infidelity, death

word count: 8.5k words

author's note: there are four different acts to this introductory chapter :) so much foundation to lay down and i spent forever on this to craft it perfectly for you guys. thank you for being as excited about this fanfic as I am releasing it. i hope you all enjoy! -madelyn

tags: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n

_______________𓆩♡𓆪_______________

"Once I ran to you. Now I run from you."

♡

Duality of man. Mom was always a firm believer in that notion. In fact, she always used to say, "Inside of you, there are two wolves: a good one and a bad one. Depending on which mouth you feed, one will triumph the other.”

It became more evident when she died.

“YOU FUCKING SLUT. GRAB YOUR SHIT AND GO.”

Once identical in every aspect, the differences between you and your brother slowly began to unravel over time.

Being ‘good wolf’ was impossible while living under the same roof as Billy. So you settled for neutral wolf instead. Meanwhile, the big, bad wolf possessed him at age 15, when he realized hitting your father back would get him to back off.

It was 2010, post-homecoming game.

Dad nearly flung Billy into another dimension when he came home. The preferred alternative would have been attempting to reason with one another, but it just wasn’t something that was normalized in the Hargrove household. Communicating with words was a daunting task; but not nearly as daunting as accountability.

“I’M DONE WITH YOU, BILLY. GRAB YOUR SHIT AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE.”

“I’m a literal minor, you can’t do this, Dad!” Billy wailed. "PLEASE!"

Over a football game.

The Friday Night Lights were a staple of Vista Palms High School. That and all of its nacho-eating, pot-smoking, LMFAO-playing, neon-filled goodness.

"C’mon V-P, c’mon, let’s beat S-D!” For weeks Billy had been chanting that mantra. There was no clearer indication that it’s where he would be the night of the championship game. He didn’t communicate it, of course, but it was implied. But still, it didn’t cross Dad’s mind.

Any parent who thought their child was coming home on time — and sober — that night was a foolish one. Especially if their kid was a sophomore with senior status.

“You sure as hell don't act like one,” Dad spat. “Coming home, acting all grown." Little did Dad know Billy was there for community service. Billy was a good student. More than anything he wanted a full ride to a UC, mainly to get away from home. Either that or military. Maybe then, walking on eggshells and being accused of something he didn't do — like drinking and doing drugs — would be a seasonal occurence instead of daily. "ACTING LIKE YOU PAY THE BILLS. YOU DON'T. YOUR MOM AND I DO.”

Dad knew he hit a nerve. It was his signature move aside from alienating his victims to establish control. While the feeling of getting your wings clipped really did you in, reactive abuse was Billy's top trigger, especially when Mom was mentioned. After all, Billy was the one who found Her.

Through glassy eyes and gritted teeth, Billy closed up his fists before mustering up the courage to say, “I’m…not…calling Sue... the operative word.”

Dad snarled. “Like there’s anyone else physically here you’ve reserved that title for?”

Oh.

"This tainted love you've given-"

Billy took the bait, lunging forward to grab Dad. As if on cue, Dad winded up his arm, assuming his usual position. You managed to assert yourself between in hopes of stopping them. Suddenly the back of Dad's hand collided with your cheek, sprawling you onto the couch. Billy watched horrified while you fought to keep your eyes open, growing anxious when all you could hear was the room pulsating around you at the highest frequency you had ever heard in your 15 long years of life. Enough was enough.

One punch. Bridge of the nose. Game over. The control Dad had over you both had ceased.

Billy rushed to your aid while Dad took a few moments to gather himself. It was then his beat-in, throbbing eyes realized that the little boy he mercilessly pushed around was no longer there. His own little Frankenstein had taken his place.

"I gave you all a boy could give you"

"Oh my god, Sissy," Billy cried, crouching down to run a soothing hand through your hair. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you sniff, wrapping a hand around his arm. "I'm fine, Billy. I promise."

"I'm not gonna let that son of a bitch hurt you ever again," he vowed. "I'm gonna fuck him up and anyone else who tries."

"I love you, Brother."

"I love you, Sissy." The magnitude of power that surged through Billy melted into every neuron in his body, the warmth of its adrenaline imitating a tender — long overdue — embrace. He became fully enveloped in what was like an electric current, its tide higher than any wave he's ever surfed. It became more exhilarating than cruising down the I-5 in his Camaro at 130 MPH, and more intoxicating than any keg of beer he's ever swigged at a Wanna-be Project X Party.

It was the rush Billy had been searching for his whole life.

Every high Billy ever pursued before that rapidly declined in value. He would trade in anything for the static that had encoded itself into him. He felt untouchable, a luxury your father couldn’t afford his wife and children.

"YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON HER AGAIN, YOU'RE DEAD DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

From that day forward, feeling respected was a freedom Billy was not willing to sacrifice, ever.

"Take my tears and that's not nearly all-"

But now Billy is the abuser, something you never imagined happening given his innately soft personality.

"Oh, tainted love. Don't touch me! Please.”

Slapping. Biting. Choking each other out. Pulling each other’s hair. Calling each other names. Spitting. Throwing things. Who would’ve thought the Hargrove twins were capable of the same horrors as their parents?

Yesterday was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Billy’s voice, like nails on a chalkboard, clawed at your brain in agonizing intervals.

“That’s all Max is. A pathetic little liar.”

“She will do anything for any bit of attention…even whore herself out to all the men in Del Mar.”

“You can get out. And stay out. Since you wanna act so grown all the damn time.”

He became the very thing — or person rather — he sought to destroy. The very person who indirectly, but explicably killed your mother.

And deep down you feared that if you and your stepsister Max don’t get out of that house, you’d both suffer that same fate.

“It's fucking JULY and 90 degrees out!” your sister retaliated. “What do you want me to wear to the beach? Fucking sweats?"

Max was out with friends the night prior. They hosted a birthday bonfire for her at the beach. She broke curfew and got a ride home from a friend. A guy friend. Billy wasn’t having it.

Max always got the short end of the stick. She was an easy target for Billy’s antics. Being the literal carbon copy of the woman he hates the most didn’t make it any better, and neither did taking the bait whenever Billy dealt it to “keep the peace”. Max believes being and acting helpless would get Billy to back down. It was far from the truth. In reality, she was feeding him his supply.

And what a volatile supply it is.

Mom also had another saying: "Anger is just grief with nowhere to go".

So you watched Billy and Max go back and forth with their pickleball tournament-o-insults, shouting at one another to their lungs’ capacity, their dead, black pupils strangling each other mentally while they gathered the physical strength to do so as well. You kept an arm halfway up and torso slightly turned in case you needed to butt in.

“I do this because I love you, Maxine,” Billy insisted. “So just SHUT UP and stop being a little cunt. Okay?”

“You stop being a presumptuous asshole first,” Max fired back. “We’re fighting again — why? Because someone with a penis drove me home? And we broke curfew by 10 minutes? I don’t control traffi-”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he dismissed her. “Just say you wanted some dick and call it a night.”

Classic slut-shaming, as if Billy’s Instagram following wasn’t all models, strippers, and OnlyFans girls.

Before you could even process what was happening, the blurbs of their argument skidded to a halt when Max finally broke. Billy watched in subtle amusement as she screamed, her fist meeting the wall repeatedly out of frustration.

Reactive abuse is Billy’s favorite abuse tactic.

“Someone who’s not guilty wouldn’t react like this,” Billy quipped in a sing-song voice, eyeing the new hole in the dry wall that Max had created.

There was no sense in backtracking if Billy already got what he wanted. Max just needed the last word. Before any of you could process it, an acrylic storage box soared through the air, hitting Billy right in the groin. He roared in agony while Max attempted to collect herself off to the side. She still saw red.

That’s when the knife came out.

One slice to the brow and it was over. To ensure the last word was his to keep, Billy ended up chucking a knife at your sister.

“OHMYGOD!” Max shrieked repeatedly, entering the ‘freeze’ stage of her shock. “OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD, I’M BLEEDING! I’M BLEEDING, THERE’S BLOOD!”

It was then you realized, the little boy you vowed to protect and refused to leave behind was long gone. Dad’s essence had taken his place now.

“You just don’t know when to FUCKING STOP, do you?” you exclaimed, putting pressure on Max’s eyebrow with a washcloth as she wailed. Suddenly it was Dad you were talking to. They had the same apathetic, dead look in their eyes. “I don’t care who said or did what, throwing a fucking KNIFE?”

“Me?” Billy tutted. “You wanna call me crazy, who did that?” He was referring to the hole in the wall. “And who was the one to throw shit first? EXACTLY. EXACTLY.”

While Billy was technically correct, he would never admit to what he did to provoke you two.

“So you can both get out if you’d like. Be my fucking guests.”

You and Max exchanged one look. The look. It was time. You both were ready and now had the green light. Now was the chance to bolt without immediate consequences.

So you and your sister spent several minutes rummaging through your pre-packed belongings while Billy continued to shit-talk aimlessly around the rental you shared. The place soon reeked of cheap bud and gas station gin. Trash bags were soon filled with your favorite clothes and you shoved them into as many of your childhood suitcases as possible. Struggling to see past your tear-coated eyes, you reached for your books, the ones you've hollowed out 300 pages deep to pocket all the tips from your waitressing job, and shoved the loose bills into your crossbody. You’d sort through them later. Lastly, you popped the cap off the bottom of your salt lamp. There was a pre-paid Visa you bought several months beforehand waiting for you. With trembling hands, you grasped it and whispered a gratitude to the Universe before tucking it neatly into the back pocket of your Levi’s.

When it was all said and done and everything was loaded into your car, you focus on the hole in the dry wall one last time.

Never again.

Billy was complacent throughout the entirety of the event. You glared at him while he continued to soothe himself with drugs and alcohol, refusing to own up to the irreversible damage he caused your little family.

“SIS,” Max boomed from outside. “LET’S GO!”

A part of you used to pity Billy, but now his destructive behavior took away any ounce of guilt you felt for leaving him.

You never fought back until you had no other choice. Similarly, and tragically, Billy shared that very sentiment.

Who the villain is in the narrative relied solely on whose lens you are looking through.

It took you by surprise all the time. How could identical twins, who grew up in the same environment, end up so different from one another?

“I love you, though you hurt me so. Now I’m gonna pack my things and go." - Tainted Love by Soft Cell

There are two wolves inside of everyone.

——————————𓇼——————--------

"Are the pieces of you in the pieces of me? I'm just so scared you're who I'll be. When I erupt just like you do, they look at me like I look at you" - DNA by Lia Marie Johnson

The heart-wrenching ballad by Lia Marie Johnson dissolves as you crank the dial to the left. Music is always depressing when Max has the aux chord.

"Did you hear what I said?" you question her.

Max abruptly sits up and reorients herself, attempting to shrug off the trance “DNA” had put her in for a few minutes.

"No, sorry. What'd you say again?"

"Do you need a bathroom break?"

"I'll go at the airport.”

"Okay, but if you change your mind and decide to take a leak one last time, I'll be happy to oblige.”

Swami’s is also an exit away and you’re just fixing for a hot meal before takeoff. But you don’t directly say that. Besides, Max loses her appetite when she’s upset and may only have room for shitty airplane food.

“I’ll just eat on the plane.”

Stale pretzels and flat soda it is.

Despite the decrease in appetite, Max is holding up well. As well as anyone-who-was-nearly-stabbed-by-her-brother-and-is-now-moving-states-away-from-everything-she’s-ever-known-with-her-sister could be.

It wasn’t your first choice to leave California. In fact, you did everything you could to avoid it. But nonetheless, anyone with a conscious and only $4,000 to their name would make the wise decision to move away to somewhere more affordable.

Enter your online friend, Robin.

Working ungodly hours six days a week to pay the bills took up so much of your time that you had no friends in San Diego — albeit high school friends who would have never guessed how you and Billy turned out. Those friends had happy families anyway. They couldn’t hold space for you. Your online friend Robin, who you met on an art forum, however knew your family dynamic and was there for everything. But she lived in Indiana with her partner and was never able to offer you any physical comfort.

You entertained Robin’s idea of moving to where she lives, a small town in Indiana called Hawkins just 20 minutes southeast of the city. Living under the radar to get your ducks in a row seemed like such a perfect plan, but you didn’t want to do so at the expense of Max losing her only support system she had outside of you.

Moving would’ve also meant pulling her out of school, which wouldn’t be possible because Billy was her legal guardian. Now that she’s graduated high school, and today is her 18th birthday, the game has changed completely.

“Donovan texted me happy birthday,” Max reports, finally disclosing a fragment of her inner conscience. “Thought it was sweet.”

You can’t help but smile. "You thought he wouldn’t?”

She refrains from rolling her eyes and shifts them towards the rocky beach cliffs outside her window.

“You know,” you add. “I really think you two could make long distance work. I’ve never seen so much chemistry between two people before.”

Max scoffs. "Yeah right. Long distance with a guy going to Santa Barbara for college?” She fiddles with the strings of the knit poncho resting atop her lap. “I'd be breaking my own heart."

You bite your lip to stop the waterworks. Max doesn’t deserve any of this. She deserves to enjoy bonfires with her skater friends, surf all the tubular waves, and go on all the nature hikes without worrying about her stepbrother’s codependent-fits-of-rage waiting for her when she comes home. She deserves to eat fried funnel cake at the county fair and share a kiss with the boy of her dreams atop a Ferris wheel on the 4th of July. She deserves a San Diego summer, not a summer spent in hiding from her abuser in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

Max decides to change the subject.

“So what’s Robin like? Your online friend.”

“She’s very sweet,” you breathe. “Been, uh, telling her about Billy for a long time now. Her arms have been open since day one.”

“And her girlfriend?”

“Vicky’s the best,” you insist. “A match made in heaven for sure. It’s like they’re the same person, just different font.”

You get a giggle out of Max. Her laughter during such a turbulent time is like music to your ears. The non-depressing kind.

“I’m really sorry I couldn’t get you a gift this year.”

She side eyes you.

“What are you talking about? You quite literally gave me the best gift of all.”

“Did I? What did I give you?”

“You gave me safety.”

And with that, you give yourself a mental pat on the back, confident you made the right choice despite how foreign everything currently felt. The conversation dies down while you and Max ride on, driving further and further away from the Park and Ride you spent the night at, off Coast Highway, and onto the I-5 one last time.

Boarding the plane is a swift process. Your plane is a two-seater, so Max gets the window and you get the aisle. After receiving your snacks and drinks, you decide to play white noise and dissociate for the next five hours. It’s safe to do so, anyways. Liminal spaces were not something you took for granted.

Meanwhile, Max looks out the window, watching as the world she has come to know her whole life shrinks right before her eyes, before disappearing underneath a quilt of soft white cumulus clouds.

“This is 18.”

Goodbye, San Diego.

—————— ✈︎ ———————

Hello, Hawkins.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Robin incites, trudging through the miscellaneous projects that sit at her feet. “As if we weren’t DIY freaks enough, the pandemic really just amplified that.”

The pandemic was a hard time for everyone. You lost your fine dining gig and abruptly switched to UberEats to adjust to the flow of takeout. Billy couldn’t go to the gym, his happy place, and it took a toll on him mentally. Max broke quarantine multiple times to see Donovan, which didn’t sit well with your brother. He of course lashed out on her and also proclaimed that people like her were the reason why America hadn’t opened up yet.

“And I get no time at the gym!” Billy screamed. “So now I have to do this—”

You learned that a decent lamp costed $70 that night.

That wasn’t your first rodeo though. You and Billy grew up replacing furniture all the time. You two would gather up your money and spend it on replacing whatever needed replacing for Mom’s birthday. She always wanted to make your house feel like a home. Feel lived in. You and Billy thought you were heroes doing it, but it dawns on you now that you two were just babies.

“Oh!” Vicky interrupts. “Before we forget…”

You and Max watch her as she scrambles around, looking for something that she seemed ecstatic about.

“Happy birthday, Max!”

“No way, Kate Bush!” Max exclaims as she accepts the gift, an original Kate Bush vinyl record of her album Hounds of Love.

"Wow," you beam, rubbing your sister’s back. “Way to fuel her 80's hyperfixation, huh?"

“We found this at the thrift store,” Vicky boasted. “Knew we had to get it for ya.”

“It’s the real deal too," Robin adds. "Look, printed 1985.”

“It’s perfect,” Max gushes. “Can’t wait to play it on my Crosley.”

She thanks them both and hugs them before running back to the living room to get the rest of your belongings. You listen as she hums some of Kate Bush’s discography along the way.

You then observe Max as she unpacks her things one by one, slightly peppered with remnants of the California sand and the snobby fee it took to ship it all here via cargo. She then proceeds to sit on the new bed to check the springing quality, testing its bounce factor and comparing it to that of her old bed.

You let out a bittersweet sigh.

Suddenly you're eight years old, doing the same thing at the local motel Mom managed to snag a couple nights from when Dad trashed the house.

You turn to look in the mirror atop your new dresser.

Suddenly, you're Mom. Quite literally. You both have the same wavy blonde hair, scattered freckles across your nose that Billy used to call “stardust”, and the same tsunami blue eyes. It makes it no wonder why you and Dad never got along. You are Mom’s spitting image — and Billy is Dad’s.

Funny how life turns out.

You graze the crows feet at the outer corner of your eyes, realizing now how many years have silently passed you by, and then take note of the stress-defined scars in the form of eye baggage from all the sleepless nights that came as a souvenir.

You’ve put up with so much. For so long. The trauma is starting to manifest itself physically.

Robin snaps you back into present day. "So I was thinking we go to Applebee's for dinner, walk around Old Town, get you guys settled and unpacked when we return, Jenga at night, and then-"

She stops when she sees the horrified expression on your face.

“Hey…” the pitch in her comforting, raspy voice heightens. “What’s the matter?”

Your voice breaks. “It’s…” you manage. “It’s been a lot.”

Robin pats your back. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

Without looking, Robin snags a few tissues from a box laying around and gives them to you. You blot the tears away, careful not to mess up the makeup you had on with the intention to make you look less…dead.

“Sue didn’t even call and wish her happy birthday. Her own mother.”

“I’m so sorry,” Robin repeats.

“Every day I watch Max store her trauma in the box... and just shove it into the corner where it gathers dust,” you continue. “If she doesn't unpack it..."

You didn’t even want to think of the collateral damage you and your brother caused her. A part of you wants to think Maxine has remained untouched from that side of you, but the dry blood on her outer brow was a reminder that it was far too late to shelter her from that.

"You see yourself in her."

"And my mom in myself,” you admit. “Now more than ever.”

You rub your eyes.

“I’m rambling, I know. It’s just… SO aggravating. Max deserves better.”

“She’s handling it really well.”

“We don’t know that. I know Max. She’s a pro at hiding her feelings.”

“She’s being strong for you, like you are for her. It’s very endearing, whether you both admit it to each other or not.”

She rubs your arm.

“For as long as Vicky and I are here, you and Maxine have a soft place to land. We are here for you. Y’all are safe.”

You two glance over at Max, who is now unpacking your Zen Basics Himalayan salt lamp. She sets it on top your new bedside table, a reupholstered one whose old wood was painted over by an earthy olive green, the old hardware replaced by eccentric shaped, neutral-toned knobs. Her Crosley sits on your floor, now playing a track off Kate Bush's vinyl while she stares out the window. Your new view for the foreseeable future.

Can't you see where memories are kept bright?

Tripping on the water like a laughing girl

Time in her eyes is spawning past life

One with the ocean and the woman unfurled

Holding all the love that waits for you here

Catch us now for I am your future

A kiss on the wind and we'll make the land.

Dinnertime comes fast, but you blame it on the time zone difference. You call shotgun and ride with Robin in the passenger seat, catching up with your best friend while Vicky and Max watch YouTube shorts in the backseat.

Robin gives you a backstory of everything you pass on the way to Applebees, from the schools to churches to family-owned gas stations. She and Vicky seem to know everyone by a first-name basis, naming random people off and knowing exactly who that is every so often. You try to stay engaged, but the only thing on your mind is where you’re going to apply for a job.

Robin drives into a plaza next.

"This used to be a mall, but now it's completely empty," Robin continues pointing to an empty building with remnants of a star symbol etched on it. "E-commerce really turned this strip into a ghost town."

"So basically, if I wanted a job, it would have to be any of these food places, an office of sorts, or an off-brand Blockbuster store?"

"Family Video is closing too," Vicky chimes in. "It's sad. But I guess Hawkins needs yet another overpriced coffee shop."

"You could always work at the gentlemen's club," Max jokes, pointing off to the side.

You turn to where she’s pointing and take note of the matte black rectangular building by the Sizzler’s. It didn’t seem out of place, but the silhouette of an exotic dancer with devil horns gave the sinister establishment away. You couldn’t read the name of the club, but a part of you tries to.

Robin slightly turns and nods in that direction. "Oh yeah. I heard the girls there make bank in tips."

“I made bank in La Jolla doing fine dining,” you point out. “Maybe I can do the same thing here. But at a similar establishment.”

“Fanciest restaurant you’ll get here is Benny’s,” Vicky says. “You’re gonna have to go to the city for fine dining. I don’t think the commute is worth.”

“Guess stripper is your best option,” Max nudges you.

You shoot a glare her way. “Very funny.”

"I know, I was joking," she scoffs. "Billy would kill you anyways."

Billy would literally go insane if you dared to work at a strip club. The slut-shaming would never end. Not that he never slut-shamed you anyway. There was always something for him to be misogynistic and hypocritical about.

Then it hits you. Billy isn't here. And you really need the money since in this day and age, $4,000 meant nothing. You peer over at the gentlemen's club one last time as it shrinks out of view the further Robin drives.

HELLFIRE.

-----------𓆩♡𓆪------------

Dungeons & Dragons.

Of course one of the very few strip clubs in Hawkins has to be the dorkiest.

But you understand the vision. Beyond the cobblestone entrance, the veil between real life and fantasy thins.

As you near the club with nothing but a purse and car keys in hand, you notice that there’s already security by the door. You’re surprised to see a leaner guy, tall and slender with soft blonde hair and a soft grin to match. He catches sight of you and greets you with a nod.

“Good afternoon,” he says. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” you nod. You reach for your wallet and give him your ID. Typical screening process. “Yourself?”

“Not too shabby,” he replies.

He examines your ID card. You notice his surprise when his eyes slightly widen before retracting shortly after. You guess that he was wondering why you are here out of all places. You peer over at his name tag while he concludes his screening. Henry.

Upon verification of your identity, the friendly security guard returns your card to you.

“Let me give you a wrist band.”

He motions for you to hold an arm out. You extend your right arm to him and watch as he gracefully pulls a paper wristband out of his pocket, clasping it into place with the side that read “21+” facing upwards.

You take the time to admire the gentleness of this man. The softness of his face. His dreamy gaze.

“Any weapons on you?”

“Uh…” you stammer. “Just pepper spray?”

A laugh escapes from his nostrils. “That’s fine, my dear.”

“I hope I don’t have to use it.”

“Don’t worry, darling. Under my watch, you won’t.”

Henry gently strokes your hand before motioning you inside.

“Enjoy the show.”

“Thanks,” you smile politely.

It’s a slow afternoon, but granted no one goes to a strip club at 2 PM. The Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club was comprehensively laced with playful innuendos. The accent wall by the entrance showcases an array of chains and handcuffs. Kukris, nun-chucks, and flails all of different variants and sizes are displayed on the walls, the point of balance being a vintage pulp print of a metal puppeteer. On the print, "OBEY YOUR MASTER" is written in edgy bubble letters.

Kinky.

And there’s a bonus of this themed club: the ladies are dressed in cloaks. You watch as beautiful women from all walks of life strut around the joint, leaving the clients with only their imagination to guess what’s underneath the tantalizing, medieval velvet.

There are LED signs that lit up corners of the space, indicating what they were for. KAS’ KORNER: GRAB A BITE, DRAGON'S BREATH: HOOKAH LOUNGE, and POTIONS — the bar.

You catch a glimpse of the private show rooms, or at least what you think are the private show rooms.

The LED sign to those rooms read, "I PUT A SPELL ON YOU AND NOW YOU'RE MINE."

The general seating area for the main event reads VECNA’S LAIR.

The Dungeon Master of this joint thought of every possible detail he could and ironed it into perfection.

Surely, someone who truly plays would adore every aspect of all the details, but it was evident that everyone came here for the same reason:

Girls, girls, girls.

You walk over to the bar to see two men conversing behind it.

One looked to be in his late 20s, with scruffy chestnut brown hair, some tired eyes, peach fuzz, and a patterned shirt decorated in a kaleidoscope of colors — a shirt meticulously calculated by quite possibly a girlfriend.

The other looked like he had another year left before being allowed to be behind that counter... of course judging by the “Hawkins High School class of 2021” on his insulated water bottle in his hand, a cracked iPhone in the other, and Beats with a small basketball sticker on it.

When you appear in their periphery, the conversation between the two gradually comes to a stop.

“Whoa,” the younger man hums. “New face. Welcome.”

“Hi. What do you recommend?”

“In terms of what?” the younger man questions slyly. There’s a timidness to the young man’s spirit, making his flirtatious demeanor somewhat dorky. The age appropriate bartender nudges him.

“Drinks, hotshot,” you refrain from chuckling. “Drinks.”

“Depends what you’re into,” the younger man replies, the slyness continuing. “If you’re into light liquors, Jonathan can make you a mean Cîroc with pineapple juice. But if you’re more into the dark stuff…”

He gestures up and down on himself.

“Then look no further.”

“That was very painful to listen to,” the older one who you assume is Jonathan cringes. “Can you get anymore corny?”

“Ta-ha!” the younger one tsks. “He said could I get any more corny. Can you get any more bitchless?”

“I have a girlfriend, Lucas.”

“Emphasis on the singular sense.”

“Nance is all I need.”

"Nancy is all you can pull," Lucas chuckles. "With that goofy ass shirt, man. Stop playing with me."

So you weren’t the only one who thought the shirt was absolutely ridiculous. It had "Bad Bitch Repellant" written all over it.

Jonathan whacks Lucas with the cloth that was sitting atop his shoulder. You request a double Tito’s straight on the rocks from Jonathan to which he automatically starts to make. Lucas continues to interrogate you.

“As you heard, my name is Lucas. Lucas Sinclair.” He extends his hands to you. “But my favorite ladies call me 'Dark Chocolate'. You can call me, 'The Man of Your Dreams' though.”

You take the youngster’s hand in yours and shake it. His heavy locker room cologne makes your nose swell, an uneven mix of what you believe is Axe and — is that Dior?

You tell Lucas your name then hit him with a, “But you can call me ‘When You’re Thirty’.”

Lucas laughs at your joke, beaming up at you as he does so. Then he nods to communicate a gracious fair enough. The flirting, you could sense, was in good nature, playful.

“It was worth a shot,” he shrugs. “Do you have a younger sister by any chance?”

“Oh in your dreams, mister.”

Jonathan chuckles and rubs Lucas’s back.

"That’s enough man, can you go buss that table over there?"

Lucas gives a thumbs up before putting his Beats on and walking away. You divert your attention back to Jonathan who is now done with making your drink.

“Alright… I got a Tito’s double shot — straight — on the rocks,” Jonathan announces as he slides your vice on over. He studies you as you take the drink and request to keep the tab open. “I’m inclined to ask. Are you okay?”

When you’re not around Billy, you wear your heart on your sleeve. It wouldn’t hurt to trauma dump on a stranger. Especially one who asked.

“Pretty far from okay,” you answer before chugging it. “Can’t you tell? It’s 2PM and I’m consoling…” You slosh the drink around in your hand. “…my man Tito.”

“I see that.”

“It’s been a long day,” you continue. “It’s my second day in Hawkins so I thought I’d scope this place out. Dilly dally for a bit.”

“Second day?” Jonathan questions. “As in…ever?”

“Yeah, just moved here.”

The bartender looks around as if he’s missed something. “But…why?”

It’s a fair reaction. If the welcome sign is correct, Hawkins only has a population of 1,314 people. 1,316 now including you and Maxine.

“My friend lives here and convinced me to make the move,” is what you explain, though it only seems to make Jonathan more confused. “Couldn’t take the heat Cali was dishing out. Hawkins seemed like the perfect place to slow down.”

“Oh man,” Jonathan mutters. “California to here, what a change.”

“You lived here long?”

“Lived here my whole life,” he answers as a matter of factly.

“What made you get a job at Hellfire?”

Jonathan didn’t have to think. “I love booze.”

You laugh together, raising your half-empty class to clink his invisible one.

“I hate 9-5s,” Jonathan draws on. “Working from home ‘bout damn near drove me insane, don’t know how my mom does it with such ease. My boss here smokes me out on occasion and my friends make me nachos.” He smiles. “Can’t think of anything better.”

“There we go.”

"I’ve also just been looking out for women my whole life," he adds. "Bout time I get some financial compensation for it, no?"

“Amen to that,” You chug the last of your drink. “Thanks for your service.”

"Pleasure is mine. Anything else I can do for ya?"

You think. "Hm, probably not you, but maybe the hiring manager can do something for me."

"You're looking to work here?" he clarifies as you nod. "Oh sweet, you're going to wanna talk to Eddie. He's the owner."

"And a dweeb," says a significantly younger looking fellow as he slides into the conversation.

“Here we go.”

In front of you now is a gentleman around Lucas’s age with wild curly brown hair. You watch as he helps himself to a club soda, dunking three large wedges of lemon into his cup as well.

The guy offers you a playful, pearly white grin. “Eddie may own a nice club with some smokin' hot babes, but he's got no game whatsoever."

“Hey Dustin.”

“Sup, man.”

“You think so?" you challenge him.

"I know so,” the boy who you now know as Dustin insists. “Can't talk up a chick to save his life."

"Yeah," Jonathan says, half-jokingly. "He's the bitchless one."

Dustin glances between you both, slightly puzzled.

You shake your head. "No way."

"I wouldn't say he's that bad," Dustin says. "I actually think he's seeing someone casually. But in general, dude's got zero rizz."

"Projecting are we?" Jonathan nudges him.

“HELL. NO.” Dustin booms. You attempt to refrain from laughing. “My game is what got me the baddest gal at science camp. Eddie? Clumsy as hell, stutters on his words, he's got the anxiety level of someone who drinks cold brew on an empty stomach… Now that I say it out loud, I think he does drink cold brew on an empty stomach. Some chicks dig it though, which is good for him.”

Curly was fun to observe. Once he’s done talking down on the club owner, Dustin politely walks over and shakes your hand, bowing to you like you’re a princess of sorts. You later find it that like Lucas, Dustin works as a bus boy and server, and his girlfriend makes sure that he remains in Kas’ Korner at all times. Dustin has about two years left before legally being permitted behind the POTIONS bar, but that doesn’t stop him from using it as his own storage shed.

You watch as he grabs some deodorant and hair pomade from an old shoe box under the counter.

“Anyways, later,” Dustin holds up a peace sign, starting towards the door. “I'm not on today, I'm just hitting the gym with Steve."

“Later, man!” Jonathan calls after him.

“Deuces. Say hello to Dark Chocolate for me.”

Before he could get any further, the loud swinging of a door closeby causes him to halt in place.

“ALRIGHT!” a loud, gruff voice booms from that direction. “Which one of you shitheads forgot to take inventory on the 10th?!”

You can’t help but turn your body towards the ruckus. And to your own pleasant surprise, you don’t regret it. Emerging from the door comes the possible shift lead, a tall and broad man with medium length wavy brown hair, chocolate-colored, youthful doe eyes that contradicted the deep lines on his face, bleach white Chuck Taylor’s, ripped black jeans, and a Hellfire Club baseball tee with the logo smack-dab in the middle.

The man looked to be in his mid to late 20s, with an assertiveness in his stride. His lips, a perfectly formed bow with a smirk-like undertone. The cool rings that rest upon his fingers look icy as they sway at his side, shining in contrast to his dark clothing.

The man is too tunnel-visioned to see where he was going. But that doesn’t stop Dustin from looking absolutely mortified.

“The 10th and the 11th,” the man clarifies. “So for all we know, we might need new kegs and ground chili, which is one more thing I have to d-”

Finally he looks up, with you being the first thing he sees. Proximity taking him aback, he snaps out of his stress-induced trance and softens up at the sight of you. You meet his eyes, big and beautiful with long wispy lashes and you can’t help but mimic the flutter in your heart in the form of a smile.

“Whoa.” He says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Whoa, indeed.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s Eddie’s first day back, he tends to get a little in the zone,” Dustin explains.

Eddie.

Does that mean…

“Are you the hiring manager?”

You didn’t know who you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the man in front of you. He must be proud of himself, having such a successful business so early in the game.

Eddie gathers himself quickly.

“Dungeon Master, hiring manager, manager, owner, sanitations, re-stocker,” Mr. Jack-of-all-trades confirms. “I do it all.” He grimaces at Dustin. "Since you know, some people don't wanna work."

"You said I can have off!" Dustin exclaims defensively. "I worked for you before the weekend already and I wasn’t even on the 10th and 11th, fuck outta here."

All it takes is a scowl his way from the boss and Dustin is radio silent. The look on Eddie's face definitely said "Watch your tone". Eyes are all on you once more soon after.

Eddie’s gaze softens when he looks at you.

“Were you…looking to apply?”

“Yeah,” you reply sheepishly. “As a dancer. I’d like to perform here.”

“You don’t sound too confident.”

“Some guys like shy girls,” you shrug.

He laughs, a dark honey kind of laugh that just oozed from the back of his throat. “That they do.” His voice deepens drastically. Eddie studies you. “Any dancing experience?”

“Dancing, yes.”

“Stripping experience?”

“None.”

“Hm,” Eddie says. “What do you have experience in?”

“I danced for a bit…I have good core strength,” you explain vaguely. “And I’ve worked in the restaurant industry so I’d say customer service is my superpower.”

Eddie soaks in the information.

“I know how to talk to people,” you continue. “I know the right things to say. Favorite pass time is upselling drinks. And dessert…”

You wait for Eddie to take the low hanging fruit. He doesn’t.

"Any experience with the pole?”

Your cheeks grow hot. You decide to lie.

"No.”

“Kinda essential for this profession, sweetheart.”

"I know," you respond humbly. "I wouldn’t doubt it for a second..." you scan the room. “So uh, do I need a permit to perform here?”

“Nah, Hawkins is a lawless wasteland pretty much,” he sighs placing his hands on his hips. “And my club does things a little different anyways. The ladies also don’t pay to perform, we pay them to.”

Shit. Strippers pay to perform at venues?

“The dining experience is what brings the base revenue in,” Lucas explains, returning from wherever he had been. “The ladies are a luxury.”

“And should be treated as such,” Jonathan chimes in.

“I take it you don’t work at any other clubs?” Eddie questions judging by your wide eyes attempting to take in every bit of information that has been dumped on you. The man sees right through your mask.

“No, but I-”

“I personally like to give everyone a chance,” Eddie says. “So don’t worry babe, you’re good. Even though you don’t have any experience, your energy tells me that you have potential. Wanna show us what you can do?”

Your heart sinks. The handsome club owner called you babe. And you’re also being asked to perform with the little experience you have — in front of girls who had tons of experience.

“Here? Now?”

Eddie nods.

You weren’t prepared to dance today. But with your sister and the mountain of debt on your mind, you are willing to do anything. So you walk over to Jonathan and tell him what song you feel most comfortable performing to and stretch as he takes the time to find it. When all is said and done, you make your way to the icy pillar made of chrome steel that was calling for your attention.

You exhale deeply.

Back to the old stomping grounds. The last time you worked with a pole you were wearing Heeley’s and light up sneakers. Of course in place of the horny spectators there were playground supervisors, and the only “bars” there were monkey bars. Oh, and you were 8, not 28.

The slut-shaming still existed, though. One time a boy told you that you were acting like a ‘hoe’ for trying to do a trick upside down. To Billy’s retaliation though. Before you knew it, the same boy was being shoved down and dragged across the wood chips, acquiring a series of splinters along the way. Admin phoned home. You and Billy got spanked. But, of course, Billy had no regrets. While you both cooled off together, you remember him grazing your hand, telling you he’d beat that kid up “a gajillion times over”.

He kept that promise. Except as you two grew older, it was you he was doing it to. A gajillion times over.

You laugh at the bittersweet nostalgia.

“Whenever you’re ready, babe,” Eddie says.

You give Jonathan a thumbs up to play your song selection. Soon, Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club is filled with the catchy, seductive tune that is Layla by Eric Clapton.

You start with a small stroll around the pole. Then a dramatic dip to flaunt your bouncy golden locks. Soon, the women of Hellfire gather around with the men following soon after to watch you work your magic in Vecna’s crowded Lair.

If muscle memory is in your favor, they are in for a good show.

What will you do when you get lonely

No one waiting by your side?

You've been running, hiding much too long

You know it's just your foolish pride

Eddie claims a seat at a throne directly in front of the pole. He studies your technique, your movements, your facial expressions. You aren’t sure if reality is projecting onto you or if you’re dizzy from all the spinning, but you almost see a slight smile spread across the club owner’s face. It prompts you to keep going.

Layla, got me on my knees

Layla, begging, darling, please Layla

Darling, won't you ease my worried mind?

It’s a lot harder, your techniques and tricks. Most likely since you weigh more than 50 pounds now and had to exert more energy to keep yourself balanced an aligned. But nonetheless, you persist.

Tried to give you consolation

Your old man had let you down

Like a fool, I fell in love with you

You turned my whole world upside down

You buck your hips upward from you back arch to go into an upside down position. It earns you some hooting and cheering from the crowd.

“You better work, mamas!” a dancer cheers.

“I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT!”

“YOU GO GIRL!”

“YAAAS!”

Layla, got me on my knees

Layla, I'm begging, darling, please Layla

Darling, won't you ease my worried mind?

Eddie watches intently, leaning backwards with his hands clasped forward. You feel his eyes burn through you, from the top of your head down to your toes. You feel as if he’s mentally scoring you like you’re at a competition, but the sisterhood that cheers you on makes you feel slightly less intimidated.

“SHE’S SO GOOD!” comes a high-pitched voice in the crowd. “I FREAKING LOVE HER!”

You turn to look at your own personal cheerleader, a bright-eyed cute little redhead with pigtails with an outfit that looks like an ode to Britney Spears’ “Hit Me Baby One More Time”. She has cherry hair ties that hold her two pigtails at the bottom.

You watch her clap and jump up and down, cheering you on with a beam in her eyes that made you feel like your souls have been friends for decades.

Motivated to attempt more risqué moves, you jump into the splits before kicking your legs around to end on your knees.

Clapping and whistling erupts from the lair. Once it dies down, Eddie stands up, offering you a delighted series of slow claps as he makes his way towards you.

"That was really good, Shy Girl. I like how you finished your set."

“Aw, thanks Eddie.”

He walks around you.

"Go like this?" Eddie does a stretching motion, lifting his hand up.

You imitate him and reach up.

"Okay, and... turn like this? Then pop your ass out a bit more."

The word rolled off the club owner's tongue like it was nothing. It was done in a way that was professional, a hint of respect in his tone with no sort of ulterior motive.

You swallow hard, attempting to internally tame the goosebumps on rising upon your skin. He’s just giving feedback, he’s just giving feedback. This is a professional line of work.

You do as he says as he circles around you, fingers grazing on the cool floor of the stage just inches away from your thighs. He taps them in thought.

"For a beginner you’re pretty damn good,” he says.

“Yeah?” you look up at him and smile.

“Yeah,” his voice deepens. “You’re a natural. All that shyness just went away.”

Well, it’s about to return, you think to yourself.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

“Not in this specific setting.”

There’s a slight shift in his eyes as his imagination wanders. The dimples at the side of his mouth concave slightly.

“I gotcha.”

Eddie clears his throat. “So uh, when can you start?”

Today is Wednesday. You have tomorrow, Friday, and the weekend to settle you and Max in and make any last minute stops. Then the appointment with the other loan officer and DMV appointment on Monday. Tuesday afternoons are dry — everywhere so that left the earliest you can start as

"Next Tuesday? In the evening?"

A soft snort escapes from the club owner’s nose.

"Driest night of the week," he comments, looking around his club.

He turns back to you.

"But a good time for orientation. Works for me, Shy Girl. Can I call you that?”

You smirk. “So I got the job?”

He nods.

“Then you can call me what you want,” you smile shaking his hand. “In this case I’m Shy Girl Hargrove.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiles. He knows you’re flirting. Eddie accepts your hand and shakes it firmly.

“Eddie. Pleased to formally meet you. And welcome to Hellfire.”

You two exchange contact information for professional purposes before he leaves. You study Eddie as he sees himself out, planting a firm, teasing smack on Lucas’s stomach on his way and whispering something to Jonathan as well.

Your cheerleader from the crowd excitedly makes her way over.

“I know a dancer slash gymnast when I see one,” she chirps. “I’m Chrissy. Stage name is Cherry.”

You two shake hands and exchange further compliments with one another. Your heart swells when you realize you’re slowly starting to find community.

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

Others come and say hello, but you’ve tuned out all the faces because all you can think about is Eddie. His demeanor. The way he carries himself. His presence alone was something so intoxicating that it lingered around the place in his absence.

Your heart flutters.

“Oh, Hargrove!” Jonathan says. “Before you go I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to worry about the drink.”

“Oh?” you respond. “No?”

“Eddie says it’s on the house.”

You smile and Jonathan returns the favor, making sure you see him when he voids your entire tab. As you wave bye to all your spectators, you release a grateful sigh. You felt very humbled about this new, yet unexpected beginning.

The happiness soon wears off when the events that just unfolded dawn on you. Suddenly, the flutter in your heart moves to your stomach, settling in a way that feels eerie. The unknown is pestering you again. Wrong, but oh so right and necessary.

You take in the area around you. You have a place to call home. You’re a stripper now. Your boss just bought your drink. You’re going to have money coming in. Oh, and YOU’RE A STRIPPER NOW.

Then it dawns on you. You need to go shopping.

#Spotify #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things 5 #hellfire club #Eddie munson fan fiction #Eddie munson fics

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plasma-tree · 1 year ago

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Help a Disabled Friend (and her service dog)

It's day one of Disability Pride Month (literally, july 1st is when Disability Pride Month lol) and I'm already struggling to get things that will make my life easier. The mort important thing on this list is a mobility harness for my service dog.

if you don't know, I have neurological problems, dysautonomia, and ehlers-danlos syndrome, and they are the most problematic for me because of the motor/mobility and digestive issues they cause. While I'm doing all that is medically possible for the digestive issues, the motor and mobility issues are basically not being dealt with.

I have a service dog, and part of what he does is help me with walking/standing/getting up/getting down, and that's lovely, but I do not have an appropriate mobility harness for him-- which would be sturdy and built specifically for differences in weight, pressure, etc, and have a rigid handle. In the past, I have used a secondhand mobility harness but it lacks the correct handle. I would strongly prefer to use a safe, sturdy harness that is built for my needs and my service dog's safety.

I also need guide attachments for this harness so Heathen (my service dog) can do better at guide tasks at night and during very bright parts of the day. The feedback of a pullstrap isn't quite enough.

With all appropriate options, this harness costs $349 USD.

The guide handle I need is $71.

I have $50 in my paypal account to put towards this, and being on SSDI, I only get paid once a month, and not much-- $1311. 500 goes to my mortgage. Most of it goes towards caring for my service dog and paying medical bills, and it really, really is not enough. I have literally tried appealing to SSA to raise my monthly payment, but I've been told that is not a thing they even entertain.

Please, if you can, help me get this mobility harness. It would mean a lot more mobility and freedom for me, considering my wheelchair is still damaged and my insurance will not tell me yet whether they approved the repair or not.

My paypal is [email protected]

My venmo is nikkicantrell96

Please, please help if you can.

#help #mutual aid #fundraising #fundraiser #disabiled #disability #disabled person #service dog #disability pride

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lets-talk-gundam · 3 months ago

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The MSM-09 Zogojuaju

While planning the invasion of Earth, strategists in the Principality of Zeon knew that gaining control of the planet's vast oceans would be key to a successful occupation. To this end, Zimmad, Zeonic, and MIP were tasked with with the development of mobile suits for use in aquatic environments.

While Zimmad and MIP are generally credited with the most successful designs, Zeonic also played a part in the development of such machines.

With all three companies contributing to the design, and with Hoshioka serving as its manufacturing center, the result would come to be a symbol of unity and collaboration for Zeon's people, as well as the ultimate aquatic machine.

Taking cues from Zeonic's Zaku Marine, MIP's Z'Gok, and Zimmad's Gogg, the MSM-09 Zogojuaju is remarkable machine, capable of unparalleled maneuverability thanks to its sleek aquadynamic design, the machine was favored by pilots whose styles incorporated speed and unpredictability.

The machine was armed with seven torpedo tubes, hidden by a stylized "mouth", as well as four additional tubes in each leg. For close range fighting, the machine featured six extendable "heat tentacles" each equipped with a deployable beam spraygun.

The machine was brutally effective during Zeon's campaigns in the Atlantic ocean and Gulf of Mexico, with Zeon ace Mauve Palomo making excellent use of the machine before his defeat at the hands of the Federation's Carrier Group 7. It's widely speculated that his defeat resulted solely from his decision to sortie in the inferior MSM-010 Zock.

The machine developed such a reputation that even the legendary Char Aznable elected to sortie in one over a fully-customized cutting-edge MS-14 Gelgoog.

Despite the machine's runaway success and reputation, it was unable to save Hoshioka from filing for Chapter 11 Bankruptcy in February of 0080, where it was eventually acquired by Anaheim Electronics, where the machine would be fully discontinued by March. Despite their discontinuation, so tenacious was this machine that surviving units could be spotted in use during various conflicts following the end of the One Year War, including by;

Zeon remnants in The Delaz conflict, the First, Second, and Third Neo-Zeon wars from UC 0083-0096

The Anti-Earth Federation Organization Mafty circa. UC 105

Several factions during the Jupiter War from UC 133-136

The League Militaire during the Zanscare Invasion in UC 153

Metatron during its revolutionary movement against the Earth Federation in UC 203.

Various Settlement Nations in their campaign against the Illuminati in UC 223.

The Outer Space Alliance during their war with Earth in UC 1160.

The Zogojuaju was originally designed by Hideki Owada for the 2005 gag manga Mobile Suit Gundam-san. Have a wonderful April Fools`! And thanks for the suggestion. You know who you are.

#mobile suit gundam #gundam #mecha #mecha design #lets talk gundam

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or13m · 3 months ago

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Feline Feelings, a FNaF story chapter 010

Sun had officially reached his breaking point.

It was bad enough that he had to endure your endless, affectionate kisses every night as a tiny robotic kitten—something that Moon shamelessly enjoyed. But now, even at work in his full animatronic body, Sun couldn’t escape the memory of your fingers scratching behind his ears, your laughter, and worst of all: those kisses.

Twenty-seven, exactly. Not that he’d been counting.

Now, every time you brushed past him in the daycare—every accidental touch, every innocent smile, even just the scent of your shampoo—sent his internal systems into absolute chaos. His cooling fans worked overtime, roaring embarrassingly loud whenever you got too close.

Moon, of course, had noticed immediately.

“Having trouble focusing, Sunshine?” Moon whispered as he passed by, smirking wickedly. “Maybe you’re thinking about how much they like kissing that little spot right behind your ear?”

Sun froze in the middle of organizing the crayons, feeling his fans kick into overdrive. “Moon, I swear—”

Moon chuckled darkly. It was clear that he was enjoying every second of his counterpart’s suffering. “I wonder what they’d think if they knew exactly how much you enjoyed it.”

Sun’s circuits nearly fried on the spot. “Please stop talking.”

He quickly spun around, desperate to avoid the imp’s mischievous antics—and immediately collided with you. You had been reaching around him for the art supplies, not expecting him to suddenly move in the middle of a task he seemed so focused on completing.

“Oh! Sorry, Sun,” you mumbled, steadying yourself by placing a hand on his arm. It was an innocent touch. You were completely unaware of the catastrophic effect it was having…

Sun’s entire system short-circuited.

His voice glitched, dissolving into garbled static. Panic spun the rays around his faceplate while his optics flickered dangerously.

“Sun? Are you okay?” A concerned frown pulled at your lips. Had he busted something? Did one of his dives into the ballpit finally knock something out of place?

Sun stared blankly, unable to form coherent words. His interface screamed at him when his core temperature skyrocketed into hazardous territory. “I—I—f-fine—perfectly—great!”

Moon leaned against the nearby counter, optics glittering with mischief and amusement. “You sure, Sunny? You look a little…hot.”

You shot the naptime attendant a confused look before reaching up to touch Sun’s chassis. His cooling fans roared even louder beneath your palm and the two-toned metal felt much-too warm.

“Your fans are working really hard,” you determined, worry threading through your words. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

Moon’s grin widened, but he made no move to get closer. Instead, he crooned directly into the internal comms he still shared with his counterpart. ‘Tell them the truth, Sunbeam. Tell them you’ve been thinking about every little kiss…every gentle touch…’

Sun made a strangled noise of pure distress, his processors choosing that exact moment to fully crash. His systems overloaded, and he slumped to the floor. A blue-screen malfunction flickered in his normally-white optics.

“Sun?!” you called out, alarmed.

A raspy chuckle came from Moon, his scarlet eyes flicking from his golden twin to you with pure enjoyment in their depths. “Well, Starlight, you officially broke him.”

“Wait, what did I do?” You turned to him, baffled and concerned.

Sun could only manage another garbled static noise, mortified beyond belief as his systems struggled to reboot.

“Oh, nothing much,” the darker of the two attendants explained. He appeared far-too smug with his counterpart malfunctioning on the daycare mats. “Just…everything.”

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atlasofthestaars · 2 years ago

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[MK X READER] New Era - Chapter .010

first part | previous part | next part

NOTE: Finally to chapter 10!

Don’t think too hard about this poll, it’s only kinda relevant to the plot, but not in a major way. You can theorize what this means, but I won’t really confirm what it means.

Please let me know of the love interests the reader has interacted with so far is your favorite! Preferably in the context of the story !

A list of the choices I’m talking about are: Liu Kang. Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Tomas, Kung Lao, Raiden, Kenshi, and Johnny Cage.

As usual, taking these opinions for about a week after this goes up, aka when the tumblr poll ends!

Kitana made it in as a love interest! I was NOT expecting the total landslide victory she had haha

As a friendly reminder, this story is canon divergent :) Also, this is Mortal Kombat, but I did feel the need to warn for gore near the end!

FROM THE EYES OF ONE WHO WITNESSES SOMETHING TRULY IMPORTANT

Today was finally the day.

Basking in the sunrise, a large grin spread across your face. The gentle beams of light warmed you up to combat the light breeze that passed by. You felt the excitement that surged through you, reminding you of how you felt the day of the entry exam for Kung Lao and Raiden.

That was months ago, and you could hardly believe how much time had passed.

“I see that you are eager for today.” Liu Kang remarked. You turned your head to look back at the god, unable to hide your excitement. The fire god smiled just as brightly as you did, amusement sparkling within his glowing eyes.

“It’s hard not to be.” You quipped, your fingers tapping the wooden railing. You closed your eyes as you envisioned your students that you had trained hard to get to where they were now. Sure, you had been given students that had been trained well, but it was undeniable that you left a positive influence in honing their skills. “We’ll finally determine who Earthrealm’s champion is.”

“We shall indeed.” Liu Kang stepped beside you, his shoulder brushing against you gently. You enjoyed the warmth the fire god radiated, it felt comforting as usual. He looked at the sunrise. It was funny to you how, despite being a god, he always seemed to enjoy these mundane early mornings with you. Then, he returned his gaze back to you. “Do you have any predictions on who it will be?”

“That’s like picking a favorite.” You pointed out. Still, you pursed your lips and sighed as you deliberated over the answer. You let out a small hum, scooting just a touch closer to Liu Kang. It was colder than usual, and you sought out his warmth. The demigod did not complain as your arm brushed up against him. “I think in my heart I believe in Raiden, but I know he has not beaten Kung Lao yet.”

“I see.” Liu Kang replied. There was something to his tone of voice that you couldn’t quite place. It was as if he expected that answer, but there was also something else there. “Thank you for undertaking the training for the champions.”

“Thank you for believing in me.” You countered, looking at the god. You paused, trying to remember the words he told you long ago. “I remember how you told me that you trusted me to do this task, all those months ago.” Your gaze dropped to your fidgeting hands. “It really inspired me to hear those words from you. Not just because you’re a god, but because it’s well…you who trusted me, if that makes sense.”

A gentle hand rested on your shoulder. Yet this time, it was on the shoulder furthest from Liu Kang, making his arm gently wrap around your shoulders. He gave your shoulder a squeeze, bringing you just a little closer to him. It was comforting. You looked over to the fire god beside you to see an expression that told you that he was so proud of you.

“I am honored to have inspired you.” Liu Kang said, his voice a bit quieter this time. There was pride and joy within his voice, but you could sense a hint of something else within his tone. It was something you couldn’t quite place, but it made you happy regardless. He paused, eyes searching you. For a moment, you saw his eyebrows furrow and there was an almost imperceptible sadness in his eyes. Then, in the next instant, it was gone.

What was that?

“Not many can say that a god was honored to motivate them.” You pointed out with a chuckle, joking around to push out the confusion you felt. Were you just seeing things? Or had Liu Kang truly been sad in that one instant? And if he had…why?

“It is only because few are worthy of such praise.” Liu Kang pointed out, and you felt your cheeks grow warm at the compliment. You focused your eyes upon the sunrise once more. You both stood there, side by side, enjoying the early morning peace. “Are you excited to see Outworld?” The god inquired, breaking the silence.

“Excited feels like such an understatement.” You admitted watching the sun rise high into the sky. The oranges and pinks faded out, giving way for a soft blue. “I feel like I might finally learn something about myself once I finally go there.” You told him, alluding to the memories the two of you had long since stopped talking about.

“I hope that you will.” Liu Kang said, though there was a strange tone in his voice. Hesitance? There were a lot of emotions you couldn’t decipher well from him at the moment. You felt his fingers twitch on your shoulders. “Would you ever consider staying in Outworld, given the chance?”

“I…” You began, but your mind blanked. You blinked as you took a deep breath in, trying to think of what you would do. In all honesty, you weren’t certain. The voice in your head told you that you needed to leave this place and go explore in order to figure yourself out. But on the other hand, if you left, you would be leaving the whole life you had been building up behind. “I’m not sure.”

“No need to concern yourself over such a choice right now.” Liu Kang told you, concern in his tone as he noticed how torn you were. Had you been looking over, you would have seen a hint of relief on his face. “It was merely a hypothetical.”

“I know.” You said, shrugging. “I just never really thought about it.” You admitted, sighing. “Plus, I doubt they would let an Earthrealmer wander around, from what you told me.”

“They are not often fond of Earthrealmers, but that does not mean it is impossible for you to go there and be accepted.” He consoled you. “Do not forget that you are not exactly a normal Earthrealmer.” He told you, reminding you of your potential origins.

You looked at your arms again, remembering the innate magic running through your blood.

Right. There was a high chance you were an Edenian. A theory only you and the fire god knew. You sighed leaning against the railing. Would it really make a difference if you were of Outworld blood? You were essentially a stranger to everything in Outworld, making you no different than an Earthrealmer.

Sensing your distress, Liu Kang squeezed your shoulder again.

“My apologies.” He said softly, his gaze gentle as he scanned your face. “I did not mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” You reassured him, turning to look at him. You brought a hand up and placed it on his hand, squeezing it. “I just worry too much, sometimes, you know me.” You said, poking fun at yourself to lighten up the situation.

“Your worries are not unfounded.” The fire god reassured you, nodding. “But just know, no matter what choice you make in the future, you always have a home in Earthrealm.”

Your heart swelled, knowing very well he was right. No matter where you went, you knew that you at least had a place to call home. It was a comfort not many had to fall back on. You closed your eyes, unable to hide the smile that spread across your face.

“I know.”

“Here you go.”

“Finally!” Kung Lao grinned as he took the box from you. You grinned back, watching as he opened the box up and held up the final product. He took in a deep breath as he looked between you and the hat, unable to contain his joy.

“Go on, put it on.” You encouraged him, gesturing for him to put the hat on. With a nod, he lifted the hat and placed it on his head. You inhaled, feeling that all too familiar wave of nostalgia wash over you. The hat just looked so…right.

“How do I look? Perfect, right?” Kung Lao asked, cockiness in his voice as he struck a pose for you to show off the hat. You snapped out of your stupor.

“I think you’d look a little better like this.” You said, raising a hand up to put a hand on the brim of the hat. You laughed as you pulled the hat down, covering his eyes. He let out a shout of protest as he adjusted the hat back up.

“Foul play!” He huffed, a small pout on his lips as he pulled it back up. He shot you a playful glare, to which only made you laugh again. “I know you’re just jealous though of how good I look.” Kung Lao tacked on, making you roll your eyes. “Oh, here, by the way.”

“Hm?” Confused, you grabbed the small box the former farmhand shoved into your hands. You looked down at it before looking back up, sending him a confused look. “What’s this?” You inquired, lifting the box up to try and inspect it.

“Well, typically when one wants to know what’s in a box, they open it.” Kung Lao pointed out sarcastically. You shot him a narrowed look, making him hold his hands up in surrender. “Just open it!” He insisted, nodding towards the box.

“Alright.” You relented. You opened the box slowly, not certain of what waited for you. You let out an involuntary gasp as you saw the contents. It was a necklace with a chinese dragon engraved intricately. In its hands held two small jade orbs. “When did you…?”

“I made a small request for the blacksmith to make you something too.” The former farmhand admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. He sounded humble as he, in an almost shy way, looked away. He was trying to play it cool. “I got Madam Bo to help design the dragon, and she also provided the jade, Lord Liu Kang also approved of the design too.”

“This is amazing.” You said, unable to hide a grin that spread from ear to ear. “Thank you, Kung Lao.”

“It’s nothing.” Kung Lao said, putting on his best cocky smile. “You helped me make my hat dreams come true, it’s only fair.” You lifted up the necklace from the box, admiring the craftsmanship in the light. It was truly breathtaking.

“Can you help me put it on?” You asked, looking at the man. He nodded, and you handed it to him, and turned around. Delicately, he placed the chain around your neck, his fingertips brushing against your neck in a gentle way. “Thank you.”

“Just know now you have something to show off now whenever you talk about Earthrealm’s champion.” Kung Lao bragged as you turned around. You rolled your eyes again, but was unable to hold back a laugh at his bravado.

“We’ll see today if that rings true.” You told him, before turning your attention to Liu Kang who you saw walking into the Wu Shi. “Go back to the others, we’re starting soon.” You instructed him, before quickly running off to go meet up with the fire god.

“I see Kung Lao has his hat.” Liu Kang observed, watching your student run off towards the courtyard. You nodded, smiling as you joined the god’s side. Said fire god’s gaze drifted down and looked at your new necklace. “And I see you have your new necklace.” He said warmly. a smile pulling at his lips. “It looks lovely on you.”

“Thank you.” You said, accepting the compliment. You looked around, sighing. “It’s hard to believe that we’re leaving for Outworld in a week.” You commented, staring up. “I know we just discussed it earlier, but still…it’s hitting me in waves of realization.”

“Indeed. Time passes quite quickly.” Liu Kang said, nodding. You wondered just how mere months felt to the god who, as far as you were concerned, was immortal. “Come, let us go and begin the exams.” He said, tilting his head to the path ahead. You followed, matching his path to the courtyard.

Once you reached the courtyard, you spotted the four. You smiled, observing them as they discussed amongst themselves. You assumed they were probably bickering, from the expressions on their faces. You blinked as Liu Kang handed you a mallet, gesturing to the gong. You nodded, understanding what he wanted, and swung at the gong. the sound reverberating throughout the Wu Shi.

“And today, one of you will be chosen to fight for it at the tournament.” Liu Kang said, his arms spread out. He walked towards the four men, stopping just before the steps. You followed behind, hands behind your back as you put on your display of teacher professionalism. As the four stopped in front of you two, you stepped to stand beside the god.

“Only one of us, Lord Liu Kang?” Raiden inquired, looking at the two of you. You nodded silently. “Isn’t Outworld fielding several champions?”

“The tournament’s rules give the host that advantage.” Liu Kang explained, looking around at the four men. “And it is Outworld’s turn as host.”

“You know…I don’t why I’ve never asked this…” Johnny piped up, placing his hands on his hips. He looked towards Raiden, chuckling before looking back at Liu Kang. “What’s our record at this tournament? Also uh,” The actor gestured towards you, “Why doesn’t teach over there participate either?”

“Outworld and Earthrealm are pretty even in wins.” You explain, speaking up once Liu Kang looked towards you. “Though, as of late, Earthrealm has been on a bit of a winning streak.” You say, remembering what the fire god had told you about the tournament. “As for me not participating, it’s not my place to participate.” You explained vaguely. You watched as the four looked at you perplexed.

When the tournament had been brought up to you years ago, Liu Kang and you had both agreed that it was probably best for you to not participate. Your potential status as an Edenian, though no one knew of it, would probably be the topic of controversy if that ever got out. It was just better this way.

That and…you had a feeling that someone else was destined for that title.

“Indeed, Earthrealm has been on a winning streak as of late.” Liu Kang said, picking up where you left off. “However, in retaliation, Outworld has been gaining strength.” His voice grew more serious. “Should it win, it’s more militant factions will be emboldened.”

“I thought you admired Outworld?” Raiden questioned. His tone was polite, though it did drip of confusion at the statements Liu Kang had just said. You figured that was fair, Liu Kang spoke very little ill of the other realm.

“It is a place of great knowledge, wealth, and beauty.” Liu Kang said, walking down the steps. You followed in tow. It was hard to believe the words that left Liu Kang’s mouth, the old version of Outworld burned into your mind. It made you all the more eager to erase those negative memories, and see the new realm he spoke so fondly of.

“But our realms do not share goals and beliefs.” The protector of Earthrealm continued. He walked forward with you by side, and the four candidates for champions followed behind. “We coexist peacefully because Outworld respects our strength.”Should we show weakness, our rival…will become our enemy.”

You held your breath for a moment, briefly remembering Earthrealm in ruins after an attack by a powerful tyrant.

That could not happen. You surely had trained the four enough, right?

“I will not lose, Lord Liu Kang.” Kung Lao spoke, snapping you out of your memories. You glanced over to Kung Lao, holding back a huff. Ever the proud man, but you knew very well that he could back it up. He, after all, won the most during spars and had a lot of potential. His pride was not unfounded.

“First you must win the right to represent us.” Liu Kang told him. You all approached the monks, standing respectfully for you all. In front of you, in the center of the monks was a luxurious wooden chair. Liu Kang stood in front of it, and you took your place behind the chair, standing vigilantly. “Whichever outlasts the others will be chosen.”

Liu Kang sat, and the monks all sat as well. You remained standing, looking carefully at the four you had been in charge of training over several months. You took in a deep breath as silence settled in. Liu Kang had put you in charge of deciding who to test.

“Raiden.” You spoke up. Quickly, the man’s eyes met yours. You stared back, scrutinizing the man before gesturing. “You will go first.” You instructed, following the instinct you had in your gut. You watched as Raiden stepped forward, bowing towards you and Liu Kang. You smiled at him. Then, you heard Johnny Cage’s laugh.

“Good call.” Johnny said, his arms crossed as he looked at his peer. “Cull the weak first.” He said with the utmost confidence. His arms uncrossed, placing his hands on hips. His chest puffed out, showing off his confidence. A smug smile appeared on his face.

“Johnny Cage.” You addressed, meeting his eyes. You held back a sly grin as you nodded towards the place next to Raiden. “You will be his challenger.” Despite the instruction, the confidence did not falter at all, which was expected.

“Ready for your close up?” Kenshi commented.

“Alright, let’s do this.” Johnny Cage confidently said. He leaned forward, stretching a bit. Then he looked over to Raiden and pointed at him. “But remember, farm boy, I’m a global martial arts icon.” The actor bragged. Kenshi and Kung Lao left for the sidelines, allowing the two to get in their positions. “I don’t think you can handle this much boom.”

“I am ready, Johnny Cage.” Raiden replied simply. He was not deterred from the swagger the actor brought. You smiled, glad to see that over time, his training had instilled more confidence within his abilities. “My mind and spirit fight as one.”

“Fight!” Liu Kang’s voice rang out.

You held your breath as it began. Early on, you watched as Johnny Cage took the advantage, going aggressive against Raiden. Predictably, his reckless style was soon countered by the defensive and reactive way Raiden fought against him.

It did not take long for Raiden to take down the actor, in the end.

“This fight was an honor.” The former farmhand remarked. He stretched out a hand towards Johnny, who sat on the ground. There was a moment of hesitance, and you saw the unhappy look on the American’s face. Still, he took the hand and got up with the winner’s help.

“You’re welcome.” Johnny replied, a slight disgruntled tone in his voice. Still, he took the loss as it were.

“Kenshi Takahashi.” You spoke, watching as Johnny Cage walked off, shaking off the loss. Your eyes traveled to the swordsman, who was now alert. “You will face Raiden next.” You instructed. The man nodded, stepping up to the fighting grounds, his sword already unsheathed.

“You have skills, Raiden, but you’re inexperienced.” Kenshi remarked, staring down his competition. Your eyebrows raised at the barest hint of trash talk.

“Whatever experience I lack, I make up for in heart.” Raiden countered, once again not thrown off by his opponent’s insult. He even did not go to insult them back, remaining humble as ever. Determined, he matched Kenshi’s gaze.

“It’s nerve, not heart, that wins fights.” The swordsman berated. His eyes narrowed, at what he thought was the folly of his opponent. The two settled into their fighting stances, ready to duke it out for the position. “I should know, I’ve been in hundreds of them.”

This fight was much slower paced. It was a patient battle between two fighters who did not dare to show weakness to the other. Blows were traded with caution, and you noticed how every moment of weaknesses from either one was exploited. It was tense, despite the defensive fight.

Still, in the end, Kenshi had underestimated his opponent. Ultimately he went for an attack that was too risky. Taking advantage of it, Raiden took the chance and toppled his opponent, leaving Kenshi lying on the ground in defeat.

“Do you still question my nerve?” Raiden inquired, staring down at the defeated swordsman.

“I do not.” Kenshi replied, getting up from the ground on his own. A sorrowful and disappointed look appeared on his face. “Yours was a well earned victory.” The man admitted. Although you could sense the disappointment in his own ability lingering, you watched as Kenshi bowed respectfully to Raiden. Raiden returned the bow.

“You may rest.” Liu Kang spoke up. You watched as the god stood up, walking towards the victor. You walked past the monks, joining by his side. “This evening you will face your final opponent.” You both looked to the left, to Kung Lao.

A smug smile appeared on the man’s face. This was the fight you had been expecting. It made sense. The most naturally talented of your four against the hardest worker. Not only that, but they had been together since their origins. To you, it felt as if it were to be.

“Come, I’ll make you all dinner.” You told your students, looking around. You watched as they perked up, following you to the dining hall of the Wu Shi. As they followed you, you turned to give them all a bright smile. “I’m proud of all of you.” You told them, and you truly meant it.

Liu Kang watched as everyone dispersed, including the other monks. He was left in silence, observing the peaceful courtyard around him. He heard something, and turned around. A hint of surprise appeared on his face as he watched as Geras appeared before him.

“Geras.” He said, a hint of surprise in his voice at the sudden appearance.

“Lord Liu Kang.” The construct spoke, dipping his head respectfully. He looked at his creator, a serious look on his face. “I need to speak to you.” He said, a tone of urgency in his voice. “It’s about…” His voice dropped to a whisper, speaking your name.

For the first time in eons, Liu Kang’s blood ran cold.

“Lord Liu Kang, where have you been?”

You let out a sigh of relief as you spotted Liu Kang approaching the Wu Shi. You walked up to him, a furrow in your brow. Night had already settled in, and you had to arrange the fight yourself since the fire god had been absent. While you went out to look for him, you had put Kenshi in charge, much to Johnny’s distaste.

“I simply had to retrieve something.” Liu Kang told you, holding a small box. He handed it to you. “Give this to the victor.” He instructed you, and you nodded. You looked at Liu Kang a moment longer, a pit of worry in your stomach.

Why was he avoiding your gaze?

“Alright.” You said, pushing out the paranoid voice in your head. You shouldn’t linger on what was surely something insignificant. You looked down at the box, gripping it tightly. There was a tense moment between you two that passed before Liu Kang walked off, and you followed.

Masking your concern, you put on a neutral face as you both made your way to the courtyard. Kenshi and Johnny looked back, varying looks of relief on their faces as you both appeared. Kung Lao and Raiden, ever vigilant, remained in their sitting positions. You ignored the looks Kenshi and Johnny sent your way as you stood behind Liu Kang’s chair.

You were being paranoid.

“Proceed.” You instructed breaking the silence, after waiting for Liu Kang to fully settle in his seat. Wordlessly, Raiden and Kung Lao stood up. A smug smile was plastered on Kung Lao’s face, which contrasted Raiden’s determined look.

“Fifty bucks says Kung Lao wins.” Johnny Cage whispered, leaning behind you to bet with Kenshi.

“Make it interesting.” Kenshi replied. “Bet me Sento.”

“Hah!” Johnny let out a laugh. “Not on your life.” He declared. You found yourself smiling at their antics, lessening your tenseness. Johnny Cage proved to provide some relief from the stress that followed you once again.

“Raiden. Kung Lao.” Liu Kang addressed the two men, after standing up. He approached them, looking between them. “The winner of this match will represent Earthrealm against Outworld. It is a grave duty, not to be undertaken lightly.” He reminded them. “You may step back now, and suffer no dishonor.”

“I choose to fight, Lord Liu Kang.” Raiden declared first, stepping up. His determination did not waver as he stared at the god.

“As do I.” Kung Lao piped up. His voice held a cocky tone to it, as if he already knew the winner of the match.

“Then may the best person win.” Liu Kang declared. He bowed to both Raiden and Kung Lao, who both bowed respectfully in return. You shifted, gripping the box in your hands tighter. Anticipation grew as you wondered what exactly was in the box. Liu Kang returned to his seat.

“Concede Raiden.” Kung Lao goaded his fellow peer, after letting out a small confident laugh. His hand gestured to him. “You have never beaten me.” He reminded him, pointing at the other man who also hailed from Fengjian. “That won’t change today.”

“No?” Raiden replied. “If there’s one thing I learned…” You watched as Raiden glanced to you before returning his gaze to Kung Lao. “...the only constant in the universe is change.” The two, almost simultaneously got into their fighting positions.

The match was almost electric.

Kung Lao started off confident, strong, as he always did. Not deterred by Raiden’s words, he fought with precision and grace. Raiden, on the other hand, was more bold in this match than his last two. It was as if he were trying to match the confidence his friend had.

Blow for blow, the two fought as if it were an intense dance. The spirit the two had did not waver, even as they chipped each other’s defenses. You had to remind yourself to breathe at times, captivated by the way they fought. It was almost like a performance with how it all went down.

All things had to come to an end, and just when you expected Kung Lao to overtake his fellow farmhand, your jaw dropped as Raiden sent Kung Lao toppling to the ground.

He had finally won.

“There’s a first time for everything, Kung Lao.” Raiden remarked. He helped Kung Lao up, who although baffled, accepted the help. You sensed the confusion and disappointment within the loser of the match. The monks all stood up and Liu Kang approached the two. You passed by the monks who were now dispersing, moving to step beside the god.

“Although you have all trained well, Raiden has excelled.” Liu Kang declared. “This outcome does not surprise me.” The god looked between the two, before looking back at you. You held up the box you had been entrusted with.

“How could I have-” Kung Lao muttered to himself, his head bowed as he lingered over his loss. You felt a twinge of pity for the man. He lifted his head, meeting your gaze before looking towards Raiden. “Congratulations Raiden.” He said, bowing respectfully. The rare hint of humbleness shone through his voice.

“For the tournament, you will need this.” Liu Kang spoke, gesturing back to you. You lifted your hand, hesitating for a moment before you opened it. You froze as you saw the amulet within. An intricately carved amulet, the middle made of glass with a glowing dragon etched into it. It crackled with electricity.

Raiden lifted it up, inspecting it, but you were lost in your mind.

That was the amulet you remembered. The very same amulet that…

Looking up, you froze as you saw a vision of an older Raiden. glancing down at the amulet. It was cracked and nearly shattered. The thunder god’s eyes glowed as they stared down. A grievous look was on his face.

You were in a cathedral of sorts, yet the scene around you was anything but holy.

It smelt of death. In the distance, you saw the bodies of people you could only remember as allies, but in the state they were in, you could hardly recognize them. Guts were strewn about, blood was split. It all smelt eerily fresh, but you had no idea how they became that way.

Breath quickening, you glanced down. Tears instinctively filled your eyes as your hands grabbed at a person in your lap. Who was this? You hand moved to cup the cheek, wincing as you felt fresh blood coat your palm.

Her breath was shaky, and you couldn’t make out the words you were saying to her. Tears clouded your vision, dropping onto the face you couldn’t make out. Her hand grabbed yours, and you watched her lips move weakly.

What was she saying to you?

“Tell me Raiden, how will we honor their sacrifice!?” Liu Kang’s voice rang out, the only clear thing you could hear. It was angry, mocking, distressed. You looked up and around, trying to see where he was. Through your tears you could see him.

Liu Kang was mortal. Dressed in red and black, he did not have the grevious wounds and blood like the others did. He was clean and uninjured, much like you. You watched as he glared at Raiden who looked distraught. His intense glare looked over to you, and softened.

“Are you okay?”

Lightning crackled.

Flinching, you blinked, snapping out of your stupor. You sniffed, shaking your head. Your breath calmed as you looked around, remembering that you were here, in the Wu Shi academy. Not in a cathedral full of death and despair.

You avoided the concerned look Liu Kang sent your way, forcing a proud smile on your face. You watched as Raiden, with the amulet, continued to blast away at one of the four statues holding the middle arena up.

“Holy Ark of the Covenant!”

“It is incredible.” Raiden remarked, staring down at the amulet he held. You took in a deep breath, avoiding looking at the object in his hand, instead looking at the man himself. You swallowed, trying to nod encouragingly. “But is it necessary?”

“In addition to possessing great might, the Outworlders you will face also wield great magic.” Liu Kang stated, his eyes glancing towards you for a mere moment. “The amulet levels the playing field.” He told him. folding his hands together before returning his attention to you. You held your head up, trying to not show the weakness you had previously displayed.

“You must be careful, Raiden.” Kung Lao said, a concerned tone in his voice. He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, looking at him. “You could get hurt. Even killed!” You tensed up, the words sending panic through you.

“No tournament participant has ever been greviously injured or killed.” Liu Kang informed him. Yet, at the same time part of his words seemed to be directed towards you. Was he trying to reassure you as well? You figured it was better he assumed you were worried over Raiden than what you were actually freaking out over. “I would never send my champions unwittingly into mortal kombat.”

The words he spoke, though meant to be comforting, felt like a jab after what you remembered.

“We leave in seven days for Outworld’s capital, Sun Do.” Liu Kang spoke, and you once again had to snap yourself out of your stupor. “The tournament will be held at the Palace of Empress Sindel.” He said, and then he dismissed the four.

You stood there, watching as the four dispersed, not knowing what to or what do say after the frightening memory you had regained.

“Are you okay?” Liu Kang inquired, standing next to you.

What should you do? Tell him the truth? Spill your heart out about the horror you witnessed, and the many worries you had about the memories you had? Tell him how you were confused and terrified why you had these memories?

You opened your mouth, swallowing nervously as you found it had become dry. You gripped the empty box, your mind bitterly reminding you of what had just lay inside. Your heart pounded, and you felt the urge to collapse.

“I was just worried for Raiden’s sake.” You lied, the words slipping out before you could think again. You watched as Liu Kang assessed your face, before he nodded. You couldn’t tell if he believed you or not, the glowing eyes he bore now much harder to read than the mortal ones.

“He will be fine, you have trained him well.” The fire god reassured you, a hand reaching out to touch your shoulder and to squeeze it comfortingly. You smiled at him, trying to ignore the pit of guilt and worry that built up in your stomach.

“I know.”

You didn’t know why you lied, nor why you felt like it was better that you did.

part eleven

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