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yelenasdog · 2 years

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tell me you’re that somebody ✧ (trevor zegras x fem reader)

genre: smut with plot

summary: trevor hadn’t expected anything to come from his routine tinder round-up of chicks for the first party of the summer at the lake house. but in all fairness, she wasn’t expecting anything when she’d downloaded the app in the first place. they’re both in over their heads.

words: 4k

warnings: alcohol mention, cheesy situation lol, smut, fingering, handjob, public sex (or foreplay? technically? whatever she gets fingered in a hot tub), cursing, reader and trev meet through tinder, use of pet name (baby)

a/n: @eminems-skittles and i texted abt this like a week ago and i haven’t been able to stop thinking abt this so. here! cassie ur my biggest cheerleader i love u 🤍 also the song mentioned later in the fic is “love me” by lil wayne btw and it lightly inspired the fic. so. do w that what u will. happy reading!

The music was loud at the party, and that combined with the amount of drunk 20 somethings and flashing LED lights coming from inside the house would’ve been enough to make her lose her mind.

Key word: would’ve.

But she didn’t. Not yet, anyway. Because in all the noise and smoke and fucking craziness, she had him. And, despite being in a steamy hot tub, it wasn’t the most romantic situation ever, she’d be the first to admit.

The music blasting sounded like it was some kind of Lil Wayne song from 2013 (actually, was that Drake? No, it’s both of them) and the pair was surrounded by a graveyard of half empty beer bottles and cans from where they resided in the hot tub. (All from the girls who took about four minuscule sips from them to seem cool in front of the famed hockey players. That was only before abandoning them for a Whiteclaw the second they got warm.)

But she didn’t pay much care to the scenery, focusing just on the man in front of her. Or, beneath her, if we’re being technical.

Their relationship was a, shall we say, recent development. As in, when Trevor had rented a lake house with his buddies during the off season, and word of the first party had been spread, he’d taken to his Tinder. He’d been tasked with finding the girls, and even though he’d kind of felt like a pimp, he’d scrolled through anyway, finding chicks near his location, matching and inviting them quickly.

He came across her profile, seeing the bio mentioning she wasn’t expecting much from the app, but that she downloaded it for kicks and giggles. She was probably the hottest he’d seen yet (and would see), and he didn’t hesitate to swipe right. He mentally called dibs on the girl, who’s name was apparently Y/n, and not expecting a match right away, he pocketed his phone. Satisfied with the roster he’d created for the party, he stood up, heading outside where some of the guys were already playing a casual game of pong.

He chuckled to himself at the sight before him, Jamie and Alex half asleep in two of the chairs on the pool deck, Quinn on the same page as he scrolled through his phone. Jack and Cole were the two playing pong, while various other friends, some Trevor knew, some he didn’t, lingered about.

Trevor sat down, yawning. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of tiredness, but failing. Conversation drones on, and he mostly ignores it, zoning out. He was snapped out of his trance by the dinging of his phone, which he quickly retrieved, desperate for anything more interesting than what he was currently subject to.

He wasn’t disappointed at what he saw, the notification that he’d matched with someone bright against his lock screen. He clicked, hoping it was Y/n from earlier. It was, and at this revelation, he immediately opened up a chat, not caring that he probably looked desperate.

“Hi :)” he typed out, pressing send. Basic, he knows, but he figured he’d play it safe. He went back and looked at her profile again, swiping through all of the photos. He reread her bio, seeing that she had only recently moved to the area, loved hockey and a few other sports, and was currently still in school, studying for a doctorate. Fancy.

The photos didn’t quite match what the bio said, in Trevor’s mind. There was one of her in tight leggings and a sports bra posing with what he assumed was her dog, another in the garage of some race team, donned in their colors. Which doesn’t seem too far off, but then he kept scrolling.

A personal favorite (yes, it’s only been 10 minutes, yes, he had a personal favorite) was one of her in a rickety bar. It was taken with flash, and her smile was nearly brighter than said flash. It was dim in the photo aside from purple and blue stage lights, a band in the back in front of a crowd of people. Her hand was in the air, wrapped around a bottle of some sort, her other one slung around the shoulders of a guy wearing a cowboy hat. It was her brother in law, Trevor had learned from the bio.

He scrolled through the various pics multiple times after that, landing on one of her in a skimpy blue bikini, smiling on what appeared to be the bow of a yacht.

It caught the attention of Quinn, who’d been on his way inside. He stopped mid sentence, placing a hand on the back of Trevor’s chair.

“Who the fuck is that?” He questioned, leaning in towards Z’s phone. Trevor looked up at him, rolling his eyes and saying “dude, could you get any closer?” Quinn stepped away, his hand still gripping the edge of the chair.

“My bad. Like I said, who’s that?”

“Who’s who?” Jack asked from where he was still playing pong, curious as to what had piqued his older brother’s interest. Jamie, who’d taken Cole’s spot, turned his head as well, hand dropping from where it was mid air.

“Just an absolute rocket Trevor is trying to keep to himself.” Came the voice of Cole, who’d gone inside to get a water and was now back out, peering over Trevor’s shoulder. Z rolled his eyes again, turning off his phone and setting it on the table, face down.

“Well if she’s a rocket,” Jack started, “then is she coming tonight?”

Trevor shrugged. “We’ll see.” He replied, standing up and stretching. “I’m going to get a coffee. Text me if you want anything, ya fuckin’ idiots.” He added, turning and walking inside.

Up until the moment he was walking through the doors of the Starbucks, his phone was still flooding with orders from various numbers. It was a lot of black coffees and everything bagels, and he wasn’t looking forward to carrying them all to the car.

His woeful thoughts of cream cheese and cold brews were interrupted as he lifted his head, planted in place by what he saw.

“Yeah, I guess I should be thanking you for making me download it, but that’s if it’s actually him. What if it’s some creep, huh? I go to his place thinking it’s fuckin Trevor Zegras and it’s some 60 year old named Barnaby Wilson.” She pauses, listening to whoever was on the other side of the phone. “No, I don’t know what kind of name Barnaby Wilson is, nor do I care about a verification system. I care about becoming a murder victim on a shitty true crime podcast.” Another pause.

Then, just as she’s about to speak, she’s cut off by the barista yelling “Y/n!” far too loud for her liking. “Whatever, I’ll call you back. Yes, I’ll keep you updated! I promise. Okay. Love you, bye.” She rolled her eyes to herself, chuckling as she made the short walk to the counter. She grabbed her order with a “thank you” to the barista, before making her way over to the exit.

The exit where Trevor, like an idiot, was still stupidly standing.

“Hey, dude, you gonna order or what?” Some unenthusiastic teen who manned the register asked, obviously not fazed in the slightest by the NHL superstar in front of him.

“Uh, yeah. Just, looking at the menu.” He turned to where a mini line had formed behind him, apologizing to the older woman who had been standing behind him, waiting. He stepped aside, forcing his legs to carry him over to where she had been about to leave.

“Hey, Y/n!”

She turned, eyes wide as saucers upon hearing her name by someone who wasn’t a barista. When she saw that it was the real Trevor Zegras, not Barnaby Wilson, she just about fainted.

“Trevor? Zegras?” She wanted to facepalm at her reaction, and probably would have if it wasn’t from the bag in one hand and drink in the other.

A cocky smile came across Trevor’s face, starting to feel a little bit like himself again at the recognition, standing a little taller.

“In the flesh.” Okay. Maybe a little bit too himself.

“You get my message?” He asked, and she nodded, a small smile raising the corners of her mouth.

“I did. Haven’t responded yet, though. Wasn’t sure if you were the real deal. Not sure if you were some creep pretending to be Trevor Zegras.”

“Barnaby Wilson.” He added, and she grew red at the realization he heard that conversation. A small laugh left her, as her hand with the bag came up to scratch the back of her neck.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Right.” He added quietly, a smile still cemented onto his face.

“Well”, he started after a moment of quiet. ”I was going to ask you over messages, but since you’re here, I’m having a party later with a couple of buddies. I’d love it if you could make it.”

Her jaw dropped, and she had to play it off as if it was a yawn. Which probably looked stupid the more she thought about it, but who could blame her? In the most typical Wattpad, coffee shop AU meet-cute way possible, she was invited to a party of NHLers, by an NHLer.

She didn’t even give a second thought to her paper that was due in three days, all she needed to do were revisions anyway. She immediately accepted, and after a quick hug initiated by Trevor and plans to exchange numbers and text her the details, they parted.

She got to the car and screamed, before dialing back her best friend who she’d been on the phone with, thanking her endlessly for forcing her to download Tinder.

Trevor, who now was at the back of the line for drinks, texted the group chat to let them know she was definitely coming. Then, he got the notification he had a message on Tinder, seeing it was her responding to his “Hi :)” with a “Hi, not Barnaby.”

That led to where they were now.

When she’d showed up to the party, instructed by Trevor to come wearing a swimsuit, it was like everything stopped.

Much to the dismay of their dates, all of the boys craned their necks to look at the girl who Trevor hadn’t shut up about since that morning, not disappointed in the slightest.

Her denim cutoffs showed off her legs to where they were cut off by a pair of white converse, her white bikini top a slightly lighter shade, not subject to the same daily abuse as the shoes. Trevor had greeted her with a hug, his hand never leaving her back once they parted. He’d made the rounds, introducing her to all his wide eyed friends, before the two of them settled into conversation with Cole about the upcoming Formula 1 season.

Trevor had never given a shit about F1 before. Racing was never really for him. But hearing her ask Cole with such wonder in her voice about what it was like to meet Fernando Alonso, and speak with such conviction about her opinion on the strategy at Ferrari? What they were strategizing, Trevor had no idea, but, fuck, if he didn’t love hearing her talk about it.

The night went on, things got rowdier, and then as they do, they got quieter. She was there for the entirety of it, and at some point, they’d slipped into the hot tub.

It was bubbly and warm, and she’d let out an audible sigh when the water first hit her aching back. The tension from days of sitting hunched up by her laptop as she wrote melted away in the water, and it was divine.

Her and Trevor were joined by Jack and his date for the night. Some brunette named Haleigh. “Like, with a y, but… not… with a y. You know?” She’d added when she introduced herself.

After complaining it was too hot, Haleigh without a Y left the hot tub, going inside to get another Mike’s hard lemonade. Jack sat for a second, his head falling into his hand. He let out a deep, deep sigh of exhaustion, before running the same hand over his face and ruffling it through his hair.

“Jack, come be my pong partner!” She exclaimed, briefly hanging her head out the sliding glass doors, before going back inside.

“Guess that’s my cue.” Jack said, pushing himself up and out of the water. They gave him a sympathetic look, but not that sympathetic, knowing he’d probably be fucking her in give or take about 20 minutes.

It left the two of them mostly alone, in their little bubble at least, only surrounded by a few stragglers. They were either out on the dock, by the bonfire in the backyard, or standing up against the wall, caging in whatever unfortunate girl is the victim of a failed attempt at a fuck, and hasn’t figured out her escape route yet.

But she wasn’t paying any attention to them, and neither was Trevor. His attention was fully on her, where her hand nervously had come up to mess with the charm around her neck. He knew the action itself was fairly innocent, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t let his eyes wander further down.

The way the water droplets were resting upon her slightly burnt skin was downright sinful, some of them still sliding down the expanse of her neck. She looked almost like she did in the picture he liked so much from earlier, all the lights illuminating her in all the best ways. And maybe it was just the alcohol, but Trevor thought she looked angelic.

“Y’know,” he began, his fingertips coming up to play with a strand of her hair, “you’re really fuckin’ pretty.”

She blushed, not that he could tell with all the lights, and looked away, trying to hide the expression that began to tug at her features.

“Thanks. You too.” She tossed back, a breathy laugh leaving both of them. His hand went from the strand of hair to her chin, tilting it up, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“I mean it.”

“Me too.”

It was an immediate response, because she did. She did mean it. He didn’t just look pretty, he looked fucking unreal. But, she didn’t want to say that. Not yet at least. So she settled for pretty.

They held each other’s gazes, and she’s not sure who moved first, but before she knew it, the water around them was rippling. She was suddenly on his lap, his hands on either hip. Her arms were around his neck, and his lips were on hers.

And despite the fact it was fucking amazing, and the fact that his lips were so soft and so perfect, her mind was still running a million miles a minute.

She pulled away, worried that someone would see the two of them. Why was she worried about that? She didn’t know. But she was programmed to worry, it seemed, about anything and everything.

“What’s wrong, Y/n?” Trevor asked, looking up at her with those sweet green eyes.

“Nothing, Trev, it was amazing.”

“Then why’d you stop?” He asked, leaning forward and connecting his lips to her neck, somehow immediately finding her sweet spot. He was relentless, and as she struggled to find words, he hummed against her in question. Her breath hitched at the sensation, and she felt him smile against her, his teeth barely nipping at the sensitive skin. She gasped again, her breath shaky.

“But what if someone sees, Trev?” She managed to get out, hanging her head where Trevor’s shoulder met his neck. He paused his attack on her momentarily, his fingertips smoothing over her thighs, moving up to her waist.

“Look at me, Y/n.” He said, his voice firm but without a hint of animosity or anger. So she lifted her head from her place of hiding, looking him in the eyes.

“Baby, they’re all drunk. They don’t give a fuck. Okay?” He said with a reassuring smile, his question more rhetorical than anything. His hands on her waist started to move her back and forth slightly, feeling where his length was growing through his trunks and her tied bottoms.

Her head fell again, a whine leaving her lips. She continued to move, and Trevor brought his lips up to press a kiss to her temple.

“Just focus on me.” He mumbled, followed by a small “Yeah?” To which she nodded. He smiled again, quickly finding her lips and capturing them with his.

When he asked so nicely, how was she supposed to say no?

It was like the only thing that existed anymore, or had ever existed was Trevor.

He infiltrated every one of her senses, despite the fact they normally would’ve been taken up by the scenery around her. She couldn’t smell the shitty alcohol or the smoke from the bonfire, only the barely lingering scent of the cologne he’d applied before he’d started to welcome guests.

She couldn’t see all of the people around her, just the sight of Trevor, wet curls wildly astray, eyes screwed shut as he helped guide her over his cock.

She couldn’t hear that fucking Lil Wayne (and Drake, and Future, and whoever the fuck else) song, or the boisterous laughter of the hockey players, mixed with that of their dates. (Who’re all laughing just a little too hard.)

She just heard the tiny moans and soft praises that fell from Z’s lips. “You’re doing so good for me, baby.” Was the latest, followed by a groan that she would’ve been worried someone would hear, if not for how enamored she was.

She couldn’t feel the sickly heat in the humid air, or how the water sloshed up against her burnt back, just the slightest bit too hot. She couldn’t feel where the knot keeping her swimsuit tied together was pressing into her skin, or where the grainy feeling of the bench in the hot tub rubbed against her knees. All she could feel was him, his cock pressing against her, his fingertips digging into her, his lips everywhere at once.

And she most definitely couldn’t taste the remnants of the chocolate croissant she’d had for breakfast, or the taste of the tequila shots she’d done with Jamie and Alex. As his tongue lazily danced with her own, it wasn’t any of that that she recognized.

It was the Pink Whitney shot he’d done when the rest were doing tequila, citing that tequila and his stomach didn’t mix. And it was a strange accompaniment, but it was also the leftover tang of the spearmint gum he’d been chewing earlier in the day, stealing a piece from Quinn, who hadn’t offered any to him in the first place. But the strange combination worked, because it was him.

All of it was so much, so Trevor, that it was driving her crazy, but in the best way possible. So when he moved one of his hands from her waist, down to her clothed sex, she almost lost it.

“Trev-“

“You’re good, baby. I’ve got you.”

He ran his thumb over her slit, before sliding his hand down the front of her bottoms, feeling her bare pussy. He wasted no time, easing his two middle fingers into her, stretching her out. The stretch was delicious, and she fully moaned, trying to find any sense that she could to prop herself up entirely on her knees. She palmed him over his pink swim trunks, and he chased the feeling, needily lifting his hips to meet her hand.

She smiled, before mirroring his actions from only a minute ago, her hand easily finding his hardened dick. She ran her thumb over the tip, before she started to jack him off, the water adding resistance as she moved her hand along his length.

But it was all the same to Trevor as he groaned, his hand still pumping in and out of her. His palm perfectly grazed her clit every time he did, and the two of them built up a rhythm as they went. The water around them was moving in waves now, and true to his word from earlier, everyone around them was too drunk to care that they were basically fucking in the hot tub.

As she started to squirm above him, he added a third finger, his glossed over eyes watching in amazement as her mouth went ajar. She clenched down on him, and he could tell she was nearly there. Her hand moved faster in sync with chasing her own peak, Trevor’s doing the same.

“Trev, I’m- fuck! Trevor, I’m close.” She softly cried, her head once again falling back to his shoulder as she rode his hand. He reached his opposite hand forward, groping at her tit, pulling it out of the small triangle of fabric covering it. She moaned at the sensation, and he bit down hard on his lip.

“I know, baby. I’m almost there, too. Shit, you're gonna be good and make me cum, aren’t you? Fuck, yeah. Yeah, you are, baby. Riding my fingers like that. You’re so perfect. So perfect, fuck.

And somehow, they picked up their paces even more, Trevor’s hand slamming into her, while she moved her hand up and down his shaft at a matching speed.

With a cry of his name, and a broken “fuck” from Z, the two came together. Everything went white, and if before everything surrounding her was Trevor, it was like now the two had become one.

She went lax in his arms as they continued to lazily stroke each other, soft kisses pressed to the corner of her mouth by Zeegs.

“You did so good, baby. So fuckin’ sexy riding my hand like that. No idea what you do to me.”

She smiled, tilting her head. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his chest.

“I’ve got a semblance of an idea, I think.” She quipped, and he rolled his eyes. She leaned forward again, pausing briefly to admire his features, before leaning forward and connecting their lips in a sweet kiss.

When they pulled away, she nuzzled against him, all of a sudden aware of the space they were in.

“Y’know, you were right, though.”

“About what?” He asked, leaning down. She smiled as she felt his lips on her head.

“Doesn’t seem like anybody noticed.” She giggled, and he let out a “ha!” shaking his head. She was right, he supposed.

Everyone who was inside had either fallen asleep on the couch, or retired to their rooms, Haleigh without a Y and Jack included. The backyard bunch were still all chatting away, and the guys over by the wall seemed to have accepted their losses, as they now were alone, seemingly fighting off sleep as well.

“Guess not.” He replied, looking down at her. She smiled up at him, tilting her head to give him a kiss. He tried to deepen it, but much like before, she pulled away.

“As lovely as your kisses are, and as worth it that it was, I think we’ve contaminated this hot tub.” She joked, beginning to stand. Trevor frowned, his eyebrows furrowing, and his hand not leaving hers.

She raised her eyebrows, as if to say “I wasn’t done”, and so he beckoned for her to continue.

“But, as I was saying, you’re staying here, right?” He nodded. She smiled, shrugging.

“Then you still have a shower and a bed to contaminate too.”

Trevor grinned, standing up and getting out of the hot tub, pulling her out of the water completely. She shrieked and tugged her knees up, her hand coming to grasp at Z’s forearm. He spun her around twice before setting her down, pulling her to his chest. Trevor Zegras had found his match.

“I like the way you think, lady.”

FIN.

hopefully that was good LOL, btw idk if u’ve ever seen shoresey, but this is reminding me too much of that whole “sanguinet got a squeezer from your sweetie of the side of a party island in wasaga beach, buddy.” LMFAOO iykyk.

anyway hope u enjoyed, rb if u did! love u, go take an electronics break and hydrate and eat some protein. mwah, bye <3

#trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras imagine #nhl x reader #trevor zegras fluff #zegras x reader #trevor zegras fanfic #trevor zegras imagines #trevor zegras x reader smut #trevor zegras x reader fluff #trevor zegras blurb #this isnt rlly a blurb but whatever #frat!trevor zegras x reader #frat boy!trevor x reader #frat boy! Trevor zegras x reader #frat!trevor x reader

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fandomwrightingontheside · 10 months

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Lovesick

Quan Chi x reader

Request for @theelderhazelnut

Since the tournament, you've received letters of undying devotion and love from someone. They never leave their name, just the words: your devoted disciple. It's creepy. You didn't interact with anyone outside of your fights or Earthrealm Kombatants. You avoided everyone from Outworld like the plague and stayed by Fujin, who brought you as his champion in case Liu Kang failed. Thankfully, Liu hadn't, but that is beyond off-track. You don't know who is sending these letters; there is never a return address, so they are being hand-delivered to your home. But you have a suspicion that it's Quan Chi. He had been staring at you from day one of the tournament. You never gave him the time of day. Why, why was he pestering you with his creepy letters? The letters got worse during the Netherrealm invasion of Earthrealm. While you stayed in your home in fear of the demons that flew overhead, you still were able to collect your mail with no issues. You kept getting letters even after the invasion failed and Shinnok was imprisoned. You and Fujin speak frequently; he's constantly worrying about you having a stalker. Raiden has read over the letters and has said it seems to be Quan Chi's handwriting. That revelation almost made you drop dead.

...

Years...20 fucking years you've been getting these letters. You watched your fellow champions grow as people and have families. You have grown as a person but haven't been able to keep relationships because of these letters. It is depressing, but now you want to use this chance to have some fun while being away. If Raiden had his way, you would stay with the Shaolin Monks for your safety. But Fujin knows you, so he is the peacekeeper between you and Raiden. However, Fujin understands your side. Raiden is just very cautious when it comes to Quan Chi.

You visit the temple once a year and stay there for about a month and a half. Those damned letters still follow you. Even Raiden's strongholds are unsafe for you to go to anymore because he felt Quan Chi's dark magic in some places. It's beyond frustrating that he is playing this long, annoying game. In the grand scheme of things, you have considered using your abilities to attack and fight back...but something doesn't seem right; it's like a trap. The only question is, what is he planning?

While on a trip to Outworld with Cassie and Fujin, Kitana and Jade find you lying on a rock enjoying the sun. You are wearing some shorts and a halter top. Cassie insisted you two go outside because "you need to stop being a hermit and enjoy the fresh air and the sights." A vacation is always great, but you aren't leaving home unless necessary anymore. Still, Kitana is nice enough to come over and have a chat. You get along quite well with the Empress. Not to say you didn't before, but this is an enjoyable experience to catch up. Both Jade and Kitana have read and seen the letters sent to you. You can see it in their faces that they pity you for somehow earning Quan Chi's attention.

"Good to see you again, Empress Kitana," you say, sitting up from your little relaxation. "It's been some time. You are looking more and more radiant with age."

"And I see you haven't aged a bit since the last tournament," she teases as she looks you over with her fan out to cover most of her face. Kitana closes the fan and smiles, "I've heard you and Master Fujin have come to stay and enjoy the day in Outworld. Have you come with someone?" You tilt your head a bit and bite your lip. How she says "with someone" makes your skin crawl.

"No, just Fujin and Cassie, why?" Her smile fades, and Jade comes and stands next to her. Kitana looks over to the jungle in thought. Your guard shoots up a bit at their behaviour. Before you speak, Cassie runs out of the jungle, Fujin close behind her. Both are hollering at each other playfully while waving a bunch of leaves around like crazed kids. You are always glad to see Fujin relax, especially with how he's taken to this new generation of Kombatants.

"Kitana?" You ask, pulling her from her thoughts. You know it's been rough for her since being freed from being a revenant. Her eyes glance back at you, and she gently shakes her head. She is trying her best.

"Excuse me for asking...but are the two of you together?"

Cassie and Fujin look at her once they hear the question. You let out a snort of a laugh. "No, I haven't been able to hold a relationship since the start of the letters 20 years ago," your laughter dies off into a slightly bitter tone. Kitana doesn't respond as she thinks. You look over and notice Fujin looking around like he's searching for something or someone.

"Fujin, what's wrong?" he glances at you for a split second before going back to scan the area.

"I sense a disturbance, (y/n). Like another powerful entity has walked onto the realm." You roll your eyes. He thinks Quan Chi is here. The thought makes you shiver. As a windmaster, Fujin is attuned to the realms, so if he thinks something isn't right, he's probably right. Cassie watches as he grows increasingly wary of the area. "Kitana, can I ask a favour of you," the Empress looks over and nods. He sighs, "Can you watch over (Y/N) while they head to the portal to return to Earthrealm?" Kitana nods again with a puzzled expression. "(Y/N), are you okay with that? I would trust Kitana with you over any other," you take a moment to think. Why does Fujin suddenly feel the need to worry? You sigh, knowing that it's just easier to agree to go home early than to argue with Fujin. "Excellent."

Kitana escorts you to the portal back to the Sky Temple, keeping a respectable distance. You hope Fujin isn't overreacting. But...that man had saved your life before, so you trust his word. "I'm sorry about all of this, Kitana; I wish things were different in my life," you apologize with a sad laugh. The Empress reaches over and pats your shoulder.

"There is no need to apologize," you smile and shake your head.

"No, Kitana, I feel like I should. If it weren't for my problems, I would've enjoyed spending more time with you." Before you are allowed another step, Kitana stops you.

"Aren't you the God of Wind's lover?"

"What? No, Fujin and I are just friends. I've known him too long to see him as anything more than a friend or brother," you laugh again and start heading to the portal again. The silence lingers with the unanswered question until Kitana can reach out and grab your arm. You and the Empress face each other. Kitana looks worried for you.

"I worry for you. If Quan Chi was as invested in me as he is in you, I do not know what I would do," You can't stop the sad smile from coming over.

"I'll be okay, Kitana. He hasn't tried to kill me yet," her grip tightens. You notice her mask is down and hanging against her chest. The soft breeze blows your hair from your face.

"It's not you that I fear dying in this situation," she speaks softly as her free hand reaches up and gently brushes your face, "Quan Chi doesn't care what or who he hurts to get what he wants." Kitana lets your arm go, she reaches over and holds your hands in her own.

"Why do you think I haven't tried to start relationships since the first couple he seemingly ruined," the smile on her face looks strained as she tries not to cry for you. You understand that she hates that she is unable to help you and how she fears he'll make up into a mindless zombie slave like she had been. The Empress doesn't deserve this guilt to bring herself down; you pull your hands away and quickly embrace the Empress tightly. She accepts the embrace, her grip tight. "Don't feel guilty. It's not your burden to bear, Kitana. I have a large support system back in Earthrealm, I don't think I'm taking this on alone. Thank you for caring." Kitana pulls away and looks at you with a tiny, pained smile.

"For your sake and the God's, I hope you will be all right," you let her leave, which she does after saying goodbye. You walk the rest of the way to the portal, hop through, and see Raiden standing near it, arms behind him, waiting. His appearance shocks you; you're used to him just teleporting wherever you're at.

"Raiden?"

"(Y/N)," he pauses to stare at you with his regular neutral expression, "Let us talk."

...

A few minutes after you arrive at Raiden's Sky Temple, he makes hot tea for the two of you and prepares a small place to sit. You sit and wait for Raiden to speak. You were beyond curious about what he seemed to need. He sits across from you with a tray with tea for the both of you. He's tense as he pulls out another letter.

"It was left in the Jensei chamber," he says as he stares at it. A grim expression fills his face. As he reads it, you read the letter, seeing it's more of the same, except he wrote down his name at the end: your devoted disciple Quan Chi.

"We have the answer none of us wanted, and to make it worse, he invaded the Jensei," Raiden's words have a bite to them that is not directed towards you. Your shoulders tense, and a pit fills your stomach. Raiden hasn't stopped looking at the note. The tense silence that follows hurts worse. If anyone deserved a break, it was him.

"Has he not realized you were invited as an extra measure in the tournament? He cannot keep doing this," Raiden hisses. You let out a sharp sigh that doesn't go unnoticed by the god. His hands rest on his lap, and he keeps staring at you. You wonder if his gaze is meant to cause a hole in you.

"I had hoped that one day you would live a full, happy life," his voice sounds upset. Raiden lifts a hand and starts rubbing his head.

"I knew you wouldn't understand," you scoff and stand from the seat to pace, "Raiden, this has been happening for years now; nothing ever changes. And it has only gotten worse now. At this point, I'm going to have to do something stupid to pull him out of hiding," you grumble under your breath. The God of Thunder listens closely, concerned that he won't like your plan. You place your hands on your hips and let your head hang with a dramatic sigh, "And I can't guarantee no one else will get hurt," you pause and add, "Except for me..."

Raiden stands so fast you're almost startled and walks to you quickly to meet you. You almost fear for a split second, he may kill you.

"I must implore you against whatever plan you have in mind, (Y/N)! Quan Chi will use you to get the amulet. We cannot let this happen," his voice is firm as he is angered with your sudden "solution" and potential demise, "You are not a helpless child. There are multiple ways to lure the sorcerer and fight him directly."

The stubborn and irritable tone coming from Raiden doesn't go unheard. It stings like needles when the words sink in. While yes he is correct, the many times that others have tried, Quan Chi has escaped. Not even with magic or anything. He just straight-up ran. After 20 years, the God of Thunder must learn to ease his temper because, otherwise, everyone will pay the price. Raiden doesn't move when he gets close and looks at you directly. His stare is cold and judging. It feels like he is threatening you with just his presence. The only response you have is an angry scowl.

"I'm going to the Netherrealm to flush him out. Trick him into following me to Earthrealm, where he can finally be dealt with. I want it to be over," you raise your hands, clenched in fists and exclaim, "So do you. So do Liu, Hanzo, Kitana, Kuai! If the threats aren't taken seriously, he will get stronger!"

"But sitting around and letting him grow with armies of undead also does nothing for us, Raiden!" You retort loudly. Raiden growls under his breath and glares.

"So we sacrifice you to end this, all of this?"

"If that's what it takes, I'll happily die to protect everyone from him and what he's capable of!" You shout as if getting louder will change his mind. If anything, he doesn't seem the least bit convinced. But honestly, why would he be? Raiden knows how sneaky the sorcerer can be, so you know his words will help you survive.

"I can use his letters against him, use whatever 'feelings' he has for me against him. Raiden, please trust me," you add softer, your voice pleading. You almost seem broken as the anger from arguing dies down. In your heart, you believe this will work.

"Are you certain you will do this, (Y/N)?" Raiden asks as he glances at you. The severe dead expression says everything you need to know. He'll hate what you say, but he's ready.

"Yes," he lowers his head in a quiet prayer and steps back a few feet from you. The next time he looks at you, you can almost swear it will be in a rage. But his face stays blank with the slightest tinge of sadness.

"Very well. We shall give the others a warning of your plans. I beg you to be safe with this plan," Raiden says as he teleports away from you. You take a long swig of your tea and then grab a small bag of supplies for your journey to the Netherrealm. Your mouth is dry, your skin is crawling, and the air is chilled. This has the potential of getting bad quickly.

You wander slowly through the Krypt, seeing the tombstones and statues Raiden and Fujin made to honour their previous champions. You reach the portal to the Netherrealm, feeling the heat coming from the portal gates. The snow around the Krypt is a bluish-white, except around this portal. You can see the grass. It's brown from the heat of the gate itself. Standing just a mere 3 feet away is Fujin. His eyes meet your form before he calls out for you.

"(Y/n)! What are you doing? This plan of yours is ridiculous! Letting him kidnap and possibly kill you?" his voice is raised louder. You huff at his words and shake your head.

"I need to try Fujin! I will not let him hurt Earthrealm to get at me!" You counter loudly. Fujin crosses the distance and stands firmly in front of you, forcing you to halt and stare angrily.

"Raiden does not agree with you either (y/n). Your life is important!"

"I haven't had a life for 20 years, Fujin! I'm taking it back with this choice!" You throw your arms in the air as you argue with him. "I've had to see my friends suffer with the memories they have to carry on, seeing them traumatized while I know nothing of their pain. Now, with me knowing those he will hurt if I don't put myself on the line, there will be less death," the argument continues with a heated fury as both of you hold your stance. "He's destroyed too many lives! He doesn't care for lives as a whole, Fujin. What other solution is there?"

The God of Wind lowers his arms. A sombre, defeated expression on his face. "How can I convince you that this is wrong and not the answer to defeating him?" his voice is soft, defeated.

"There isn't, you can't. Just support me. I will come back with his head on a pike or him alive for everyone to get the justice they deserve," Fujin lifts an arm and gently lays a hand on your cheek.

"Then, please. Come back home when you're finished. I cannot see my best friend become a corpse or an undead slave," his gaze grows sad. You place your hand on his and smile at him.

"I always come back, don't I?" you tease, stepping away from him and standing at the gateway, ready to jump in. "Tell the others I'll return once I finish." With one more look over, you jump into the hellish gate, the searing heat engulfing you. You hiss as the Netherrealm's warmth burns your skin like a sunburn that's been slapped. It's far hotter than others have told you it was from their own experiences. Once your eyesight adjusts, you look around. Your first thought is about how you get anything done if stepping through the portal has you burning up. A painful cough breaks from your chest, making your body jolt. The air is hot and dry, full of ash, smoke, and screams. You quickly pull out the bandana Erron gave you as a joke to help alleviate the painful struggle to breathe the Netherrealm's air. "Oh fuck..." you choke out as you cover the fabric on the lower half of your face. You hear footsteps approaching your position and see the last person you want to fight alone; Noob Saibot.

"Well, look who found themselves in the wrong dimension," his distorted, dead voice snaps. You decide you may as well give him a run for his money before meeting the actual target of the trip.

"I'm not here for a fight, Bi Han. I'm here for Quan Chi," he groans, crossing his arms as he watches you.

"Why? Surely you're smart enough to know not to show up without an army or a God," a laugh rattles from his throat. His voice is like nails to a chalkboard, grating. Even if your feelings are more toward his younger self, seeing the new form of your old friend makes you want to vomit. You both stare each other down. When he moves, so do you. Both of you clashed against one another, locked in a standstill of strength.

"Unlike the little mortal who dropped in here, you have not yet succumbed to the realm's will," you think he is amused by your struggle to match him.

"We could stand like this all day, Bi Han. Can you tell me where the sorcerer is?" you ask quickly. His grip tightens slightly.

"The sorcerer's attention is currently on an Earthrealmer." You roll your eyes; you're that Earthrealmer. How did you know that before Noob Saibot? Then again, this man could've heard Quan Chi talk vaguely about you.

"I'm that Earthrealmer idiot! Now tell me where he is!" You hiss impatiently, hoping he hasn't just teleported out of here. A burst of smokey green energy throws Noob Saibot at a wall as the spell's power knocks you back as well. Your body goes limp when you hit the wall, but your mind is spinning like a top. A few seconds later, you hear your name shouted. A shadow casts over you. Then, someone grabs your body. You can only groan and curl your body into the arm of whoever is holding you. You cough as the heat of the air hits your throat again.

"(Y/n), What are you doing here!?" Quan Chi asks worriedly. You can look up just as you realize Quan Chi was carrying you. You step from his hold, gaining your balance with another pained cough. You glare harshly at the sorcerer, who keeps his grip on you so you don't fall. His eyes watch you in quick flicks, looking for injuries.

"Came here looking for you," you gasp, trying to catch your breath, but the atmosphere isn't cooperating. You are more than thankful for Erron's idea for a mask. God, the air here burns your throat even after you've readjusted your bandana. Quan Chi watches as your form settles; you're less wheezy, which immediately relieves your lungs.

"While I appreciate the effort and bravery to come to the Netherrealm and look for me, are you all right?" He places his hand back on your arm, lightly gripping it so you do not run. Quan Chi's face has fallen to a very concerned grimace. You didn't expect to see such emotion considering everything he's done and said to Earthrealm's champions, along with what happened with the tournament. It was strange that he could be so calm about ruining and breaking people, and yet his demeanour shifted to one of concern and a peculiar hint of care for your person. Quan Chi gently squeezes your shoulder with a second glance.

You continue watching him. Seeing the darkness in his eyes isn't wholly malicious. It's softer now, his eyes appearing warmer. You weren't a fool, though. This could be a trick. It was likely a trap of some sort.

"God, how does anyone deal with the heat here?" you ask rhetorically as you look for somewhere that could be shady to hide from the heat. He chuckles softly, but his worry for your condition still sticks.

"Come, let's get you into an area with less heat. You're unused to the Netherrealm," Quan Chi comments and offers his arm for support. He is genuinely concerned with the impact the Netherrealm is having on you. Your tired mind doesn't allow you to process this, and you take his arm. You feel so dizzy and warm from the heat. You think you're on the verge of heatstroke because your brain power has evaporated into the heat around you. Everything feels so heavy, and there is no sound anymore. You fall out of consciousness, not before you feel like someone is lifting you.

...

With a groan, you sit up and look around. From the look of it, Quan Chi brought you to his fortress. The last thing you remember was seeing it. And not for very long, to boot. You remove the bandana and brush a hand over your face as if that would wipe away the strange experience of fainting from the heat. Getting off the cot, you notice that the room is cool, like when you forgot to turn the A/C off before falling asleep drunk on the couch. That sounds exactly like what has happened. As you stand, your skin that had been exposed to the heat stings and looks angry and red, much like a sunburn.

It took a few minutes to wake fully, but the knock at the door alerted you that Quan Chi was behind the sudden noise. He slowly walked in, his eyes locked on you. When he spoke, he sounded soft and careful. "Ah, you're awake," his hands clasp together in front of him, and he smiles warmly. It's an eerie warmth from the same Sorcerer who would easily murder and then use his enemies' corpses to make revenants. That doesn't stop a warmth of your own from flooding your cheeks. You assume it must still be the remnants of the intense heat lingering on your body from outside.

"Yeah..." You say as your throat is scratchy and dry. You cough a few times as it's a new sensation that doesn't sit well in your chest. "Ugh, I could kill for a drink," your voice has gotten a lot more hoarse as if you had just come down with a sickness of some kind. Your mind feels a bit fuzzy, but the air is cooler and easier to breathe now. Quan Chi lifts a finger, silently commanding you to wait momentarily before exiting. A minute later, you hear his footsteps in the hall, followed by your name from his mouth. Quan Chi hands you a glass of ice water when he enters the room. He's breathing slightly heavily as if he ran to bring you water.

"Are you feeling ill at all?" he asks, concerned as he sits across from you. His presence isn't menacing or unsettling. The Sorcerer's entire personality seems to have shifted since the last time you'd seen him when Shinnok was imprisoned in his amulet. Before, all you'd experienced was an arrogant and dismissive man. Seeing Quan Chi now is like speaking to a new person, yet it isn't at the same time. He holds the cup out to you, watching your every movement. His eyes don't hold the ordinarily dark and menacing look; they tend to have such softness and something else hidden. You look at the cup and then at him. You don't fully trust him; he understands why, considering everything he's done, but...You have captivated him in ways he can't even begin to describe. Quan Chi almost loses his concentration on your eyes as they gaze into him. Your hand takes the glass, and he follows it.

Your lips wrap around the edge of the glass, tipping back and tilting until the contents of the glass are gone. "Thanks," you croak as you keep your distance from him. He had killed so many people with and for Shinnok that you wanted to have him at least an arm's length away. You weren't looking to die on this mission. He nods and studies you while his elbows rest on the arms of the chair. A sigh escapes Quan Chi as he watches you. It's clear he's off in his thoughts. But the look he gives you is that of a man intoxicated by his partner. At that moment, your memories of what you've read from the Sorcerer's letter flood your mind.

Quan Chi was deeply fond of you. He'd write several pages in one letter about how words cannot describe how drawn to you he is, how you've bewitched him in impossible ways. Even years since he's seen you, he is mesmerized and enamoured by your beauty and grace plaguing his mind. Every moment, his head is filled with only you and only his love for you, despite not knowing how the two of you could cross paths. He, believing to earn your favour, released his revenants, your friends. It was a strange move, especially with the havoc and pain you and those you cared about suffered because of it. He wrote about how he'd give up anything and everything you spoke negatively about if it meant you'd give him a single glance. You'd be lying if some of the things he wrote made you feel like a protagonist out of a romance novel with how poetically he wrote about his adoration for you. Sometimes, the things he wrote did bring a light colour to your cheeks. You'd also be lying if you said you didn't find him physically attractive.

At this point, you don't think he deserves your compassion, affection, or mercy. His letters are filled with almost an obsessive yearning for you. "Quan Chi...Do I mean as much to you as it says in the letters you wrote me over the years?" Your throat scratches, even speaking barely above a whisper.

His crimson eyes gaze directly into you as you await his answer. "I...Yes. After spending the time thinking on it, yes, my beloved," his gaze holds sincerity, and he lets out a dreamy sigh as he looks at you. "You are all I've ever known to exist in my mind. All that drives me is seeing your sweet smile and your acceptance and adoration," he shifts in the chair and tilts his head slightly, a hint of confusion filling his eyes and voice.

"So why did you invade Earthrealm's Jensei? That is something you know I'd disapprove of," your brows are drawn into a stern look of judgment at his actions, and Quan Chi's once confident demeanour drops, as does his gaze.

"A poor decision from a desperate attempt at wooing," your mouth hangs open, your eyes almost bulging from the surprise at the confession. The silence following it is deafening as you think of a counter.

"Why me, though? There are plenty of far better Kombatants to fawn over," you counter, feeling your gut twist.

"There was nothing any of them could do to gain my adoration," Quan Chi said gently, cautiously so as not to upset you. "But when we fought, I was captivated and had hoped we'd have met on friendlier terms...And now here you are, on a mission to slay me, no doubt," you nod at him. The acknowledgement that he's right stings your heart. He could do something horrible right now to punish you for coming to the Netherrealm to kill him. Your plan is fucked if he already knew what option A was.

"Of all my calculations and strategies for that outcome, this is the one I hadn't prepared for. Having you here is..." Quan Chi pauses as his mind tries formulating an exact sentence describing his feelings.

"Just tell me how you feel, Quan Chi," his face heats at your voice, calling his name in such a way. In a calm tone, he starts speaking.

"You are an impossibly gorgeous specimen. I can't begin to properly describe why you have seized my soul and captivated me with just a glance," Quan Chi pauses and sighs. "To have my beloved within the Netherrealm makes me wish I could have visited your realm to visit you myself." His smile is dopey and lopsided as his eyes gaze at you with a lovesick expression. It's the kind of look that if you attacked him, he'd thank you for it. He would thank you for hitting him, hurting him, or killing him. Just as you have come to this revelation, your heart drops. Here is this man who could make the darkness darker and the cold icer; all that stands between him and having control over the realms is you. Yet all it took was seeing the longing in his eyes and watching how his features relaxed. There, hidden deep in his eyes, was love. Pure, genuine love. It was the same way Liu Kang looked at Kitana or Sub-Zero looked at Sareena.

He, a powerful and dangerous man, sits before you, willing to lay his pride down if it meant even a look of pity from you. If it told you thought twice about attacking him, even for a moment, he would never show any hostility. Instead, he would lay his life down and relinquish his control, all because of an unrequited love. Never would he force you to reciprocate, not if you said no. Your plan was pointless as he offered it on a silver platter. "If you'll have me," his hands clasped each other, "My entire soul is yours," his right-hand rests over his chest, holding the heart that beats for only you.

As you listened to him, his eyes turned to a pained longing and even fear. If you attacked, he knew he'd lose the only thing he felt worth letting his walls down for. However, you felt like this man could easily capture your affections. He's known to be charming and manipulating. Now, watching him melt, it appears his charm may be real rather than fabricated. His charm, combined with the love-struck gaze of someone enamoured, has won over a fraction of your heart. Damn, you and your soft spot for men who look like kicked puppies when they gaze longingly. You suppose he fits that description. His eyes hold a gaze full of tenderness and adoration. He looks pathetic with how soft he looks at this moment. Damnit, why does he fit the type of man you like when he looks at you like this?

With his following sentence, the mask cracked utterly, and the walls fell. Only the man inside sat before you, praying to win his love over and prove he wasn't a danger anymore. He offers himself and his heart to you, without question, to show that his words are trustworthy and pure.

"Please, my beloved, even a single word of confirmation could lift me to the highest heavens above."

All the bad in him vanishes; you've seen it disappear right before your eyes. Your mouth opens to respond but hesitates. Quan Chi senses the unease that flickers in you. The sorcerer takes your silence in stride and gets closer. His warmth fills the space, and despite his reputation, the sorcerer does seem gentle. He is careful with you, a fact he had always been, not that you realized or would have paid attention. His crimson eyes examine every inch of your exposed skin. Quan Chi doesn't want to think of you getting harmed if anyone dared hurt you. They'd suffer unimaginable torments. The silence ends.

"All right..." you whisper; it's enough to break him from his reverie. He falls to his knees before you, holding your hands as he thanks you for everything and vows loyalty and anything you wish, promising his heart is solely yours and no other. Tears prick his eyes as he places your hand on his cheek. His skin is smooth under your hand, contrasting with his words, which are adoring, sincere, and flattering. The sheer amount of gratitude makes your face blush as the words settle in and the emotions threaten to spill over. You felt somewhat wrong for doubting him after all he's doing for you now. But why would someone so terrifying turn into such a lovesick puppy in front of you? It didn't add up until he leaned into your hand and kept his gaze on you. Oh, so that's what did it...

Quan Chi lays himself before you. His vulnerabilities are on display. In truth, he could slay you instantly and hide away in the darkest pits of the realm. Instead, he is unravelling his life and what could be a soul for you. Damnit, he's a sappy, pathetic man who'll probably put you on a pedestal and worship everything you say and do.

Quan Chi remains close to you, seemingly overwhelmed as if you'd been lovers for ages rather than him secretly admiring you for so long. And no matter what the logical part of your brain was saying, it still made the same warm and fuzzy feelings flutter inside your stomach. It has been years since you've allowed someone to be close and offer you affection; hell, it has been years since you even gave or accepted the same from another person. But this man is pledging the darkest realms, power, riches, whatever he could offer if you'd have him. It's cute, and his doe eyes and tender demeanour are undeniable. His warm hands on top of yours rest peacefully, enjoying the softness and contact with the person who has entranced him. While the logical part of your brain wants to throttle him and strangle the breath from his lungs, you know he'd still look at you with devotion, love, and compassion, and it makes that part cringe. The emotional side of you wins in this. You know that it would leave some trauma in your brain to hurt the man who had given you so much devotion, especially if the emotional part was attached, even if slightly.

The silence has stretched since his declaration, and his face gives a slightly panicked but still hopeless expression. The man looks ready to say goodbye but will follow the command until his dying breath. He is the epitome of an obsessive, smitten character out of a terrible romance movie. Yet as his warm palms gently graze and squeeze the tops of your hands, you can't bring yourself to not admit to finding the Sorcerer's gentleness, devotion, and protectiveness attractive. The feelings in your heart bubble over, and Quan Chi freezes, waiting. He swallows a lump of fear and anxiety. When your eyes meet him, he still maintains the soft look of a lost puppy.

Your heart overpowers your logical thinking, and you lean your forehead against him, making direct eye contact. "Do not make me regret giving you this one opportunity, Quan Chi," you say in a low voice, catching a hitch in his throat and how his pupils widen, showing more of his red irises. The breath of relief is heard and felt as the warmth from his breath hits your cheeks, turning them a delicate pink. The look he wears shows he is ecstatic to have this chance. His smile warms your heart, making it flutter even if you know you shouldn't let him make you feel so wanted. But then again, would it be so bad to allow the attention? Just this once? You've been starved of both physical and emotional affection for what 20 years now? Who would deny an offer to meet their emotional needs from a powerful yet loyal companion, especially when they appear as obsessed as this? The heat is intoxicating and enthralling as he is, making the inner struggle with your feelings more arduous than it was an hour ago. You are desperately clinging onto the part of you that argues not to show mercy or trust this man. However, his charm is overwhelming. His attention is making it difficult to resist and choose the former.

...

Oh no. You're in love. Head over heels in love with Quan Chi.

"This could work," you think aloud.

The smile remains, but now it stretches wider as Quan Chi chuckles warmly and nods at you. He removes a strand of hair and places a soft, adoring kiss on the crown of your head, holding your head delicately. His fingers hold onto your head as his thumbs rub circles. In the heat of it all, you subconsciously let his actions become instinct as you don't object to him resting his head in the crook of your neck. You're not sure how, in a few months, you could let your guard down around him. Yet here you are, basking in the affection and care from a man many wouldn't believe possible for his tenderness towards others.

You have travelled between Earthrealm and Netherrealm. Even when explaining what happened between you and Quan Chi, you recognize the looks of abject horror, realizing that you and Quan Chi are equally wrapped around each other's fingers. The explanation goes off without much conflict from others, aside from the initial surprise and unease that you have tied yourself to a being responsible for untold atrocities. Raiden and your other allies have somewhat adjusted. Kitana and the others were unable to wrap their heads around this fact. Yet when they see how Quan Chi worships the ground you walk on and how quickly he crumbles to your word or how when you enter a room he's about to start a fight in, the other Kombatants quickly learn he is like a loyal guard dog ready to heel when you speak, prepared to listen and obey even the most mundane and idiotic orders from its master.

Even those who don't see eye to eye with the dark Sorcerer are still horrified at how Quan Chi put all of himself aside to get approval. They were sure at one moment, the Sorcerer would snap and kill you. Yet, he openly let you throttle him when he tried to kill Cassie. How he allowed your hands to grip his throat as you yelled at him for trying that move. He relented, admitted you were correct, and apologised to Cassie begrudgingly. Even after you stopped shaking him by the throat, placing a chaste but loving kiss on his forehead and letting go of him, he still followed behind you like a lovesick dog. He would deny that the punishment, or so he'd call it, didn't turn him on, and he'd spend some personal time in the night thinking about it.

Back in the present time, sit in Johnny Cage's mansion with Kombatants and Quan Chi while they enjoy a party for some movie release Johnny made about the tournament. He hasn't appeared yet to make his speech and get everyone settled. So, for now, you enjoy the ambience and company. The warmth from having a cocktail helps your mood as well. You feel arms around your waist as Quan Chi nuzzles the back of your head, taking in your scent. You freeze for a split second, trying not to spill your drink, and breathe out as the cocktails flush your cheeks with a delicate pink shade. You hold onto his hand. You still don't know how you convinced him to ditch the leather-clad outfit when he came to gatherings like this for Earthrealm attire that was appropriate for the weather, depending on the season. In winter, he wore a plain black turtleneck sweater and black dress pants to the viewing party at Johnny's. To your surprise, Quan Chi has embraced the change, and the chilly winter weather in the United States suited the colour of his attire and his cold personality. You did learn he has a soft spot for fall and Halloween. He enjoys the decorations that people use. He wanted to use actual corpses on your Halloween display, which you said no to unless they were skeletons only.

"You should come back inside, or you'll catch a cold, my soul," he says between gentle kisses to your neck and behind your ears. The action causes you to giggle lightly as he squeezes you gently. Even his soft voice sends goosebumps across your skin and has butterflies in your stomach. He's aware his voice affects you, so the sorcerer tries to tease you while out in public. His nose nuzzles behind the earring you wear and gives soft nips on your neck.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming. Don't go getting frisky while we are here. I don't need to have that talk with Johnny," you smirked, pecking Quan Chi on his cheek, which was burning. His soft giggle fills your body with euphoria, and you feel proud you've melted this hardened man. You let him walk you back inside the mansion, seeing everyone talking and laughing or just catching up with one another. Quan Chi leaves you with Fujin as he wanders for a drink. The conversation you hold with Fujin is mostly about things regarding Shinnok, who, no matter how much he treats you like his own child, refuses to accompany you and Quan Chi to events, even the ones in Outworld. You also discuss how you can travel freely from Earthrealm to the Netherrealm. You also catch up in general with Fujin while others enjoy themselves around the home. You hadn't realized that for a while, Quan Chi hadn't come back quickly. It wasn't until a stressed Johnny interrupted your conversation with Fujin.

"Hey, so Quan Chi is about to start a fight in my-"

"Where," you cut him off, ready to keep things peaceful. He points towards his in-home bar. You groan as you see Quan Chi arguing with Bo' Rai Cho over something in a slurred voice. The two stand far too close with how aggressive they both sound. They are both sloshed. You can smell the alcohol coming off of them.

"What are you two doing?"

"(y/n)," Bo' Rai Cho's voice dripped with pity. "There's nothing between us. Tell Quan Chi I said that I have no romantic interest," the older Kombatant explained in his best attempt at clarity in an inebriated state.

Quan Chi growled in disgust and raised his voice as he swayed slightly and spoke in a slurred, unintelligible sentence with several hiccups and slight burps. You rubbed your temples. If Quan Chi is drunk, he is almost a guaranteed argumentative and childish asshole, and it means someone might end up dead because Quan Chi may take things too far. If Bo' Rai Cho had anything more to add, you were willing to stop that train of thought instantly as the man stared at you, shaking his head. Your attention focused back on the drunk sorcerer, who hadn't recognised you in his mind yet. He looked at you with a confused, scrunched-up face as he tried to pinpoint who you were.

"Hun, did you get into the strong stuff with Bo' Rai Cho? You know you have a low tolerance for high-proof," the fact he didn't recognise you spoke volumes and annoyed you more as the tone became clipped, which told him this wouldn't go well. The confusion remained, though Quan Chi's mouth gaped open when the name registered.

"My partner is better than you," he slurred as he pointed an accusing finger at you. Yep, he's shitfaced and doesn't realize it's you yet. His face scrunched up before the realization clicked. It's you! The change in his attitude did a complete one-eighty and backflip. His demeanour and his expression softened as his cheeks burned.

"And no one on Earth or in Netherrealm is good enough. Because none are you, and I'm an absolute lucky asshole to get to share a life with someone as wonderful and perfect as you (y/n)," the rambling was surprisingly smooth. Except when the words trailed off and got into a slurred mess, he hiccupped and leaned heavily against you for support and affection.

"You know better than to drink with Bo' Rai Cho. You can't handle things like moonshine. Please stop acting like a jealous, insecure teenager," you groaned loudly and grabbed Quan Chi's glass, sniffing and feeling nausea as the stench burned your nostrils, and the realization hit you hard. This wasn't even regular alcohol, and judging by Bo' Rai Cho, this was some more substantial proof than he usually drank.

Bo' Rai Cho winced, understanding the reaction. He hadn't expected anyone else to smell it, and if they did, they wouldn't inhale it as the scent alone burned their nostrils and brought tears to their eyes, much less consumed it. You pushed the glass towards the large man in a silent 'Don't give Quan Chi anymore of this" look. Quan Chi proceeded to curl his arms tighter around your middle and grumble against your skin as you went to soothe him, attempting to remove his hands, but he clamped down and kept holding onto you tightly. It would be an issue that the strength he used to squeeze was getting more prominent. "Ow. Okay, please don't crush me in a drunken, possessive mood. I love you," you reassured as he let up enough and lifted his head to make eye contact, pouting before he started crying. There it is, the drunken tears, thinking he somehow upset you or hurt you. You began rubbing his back, hoping to calm the Sorcerer, burying his face in your chest and muffling an apology for crying.

When Quan Chi relaxed, Bo' Rai Cho sat behind the bar and handed you a cup of water. "Hey, it's okay. I'm okay, look. I'm not mad or hurt. Here, drink some water," you coo softly, treating him like a child throwing a tantrum, which, in a way, wasn't too far off the mark. His moods, behaviour, and actions were similar to that, but the drunken shenanigans and meltdowns were entertaining. You coax the man into drinking his glass of water and are finally able to step away long enough to sit him on a bar stool and place yourself between his legs, hands around his waist to prevent him from going anywhere and to console him. At first, he was eager to hold you as you hugged and calmed him down. You wipe his tears away with your thumbs as Quan Chi buries his face into your hair and holds you tighter, like if he doesn't have a solid enough grip, he will lose you to Bo' Rai Cho.

"Bo' Rai Cho is more of an uncle to me than anything else, Quan Chi," the calm cooing and holding him tight to ground the dark sorcerer didn't fail as he let up and gave a happy, breathy chuckle. His eyes had dark, exhausted circles under them, and he kept rubbing them and whining that everything was a bit blurry.

"Well, you're very drunk," you chuckle as the sorcerer rests his forehead on the crown of your head again, nosing against you and grabbing the hem of your blouse, fingers splayed over the side of your stomach. Fujin joins you at the bar along with Johnny. Both are surprised to see how easily you calmed down the drunken sorcerer. This isn't the first time this has happened either; it's probably the second.

The first incident was at a gathering in a forest near the Sky temple. He and Bo' Rai Cho didn't listen when you warned him about overconsumption since he only drinks wine, not harder liquors or high-proof drinks like this. Within an hour, he was a crying, blubbering mess in your lap, apologising for something you weren't aware was his fault. Cassie and Johnny took advantage of the situation and got a few good pictures of the pair of you as a drunk, clingy and sad sorcerer curled in your lap. Of course, the comments about how he's an insecure child only aggravated him and made him pout further. Then came the full tantrum when Cassie joked the photos were cute and called the drunk sorcerer the equivalent of a petulant toddler. He ugly sobbed when you said 'I love you' after he sat down and didn't fight Cassie over the photos.

...

It's a lot to handle a drunk, possessive and emotional Quan Chi, who looks at you like a treasure worth a billion souls, or maybe it's something worth even more than that, more than gold. And in his eyes, no one is worthy enough of such a prize and treasure to share your love. So, despite having his attention for only a few weeks and now a year, you had become comfortable with the attention. If this attention came at the price of a stubborn, possessive sorcerer, then you knew a way of subduing the man to more amicable, milder temperaments. If the one controlling his emotions is you, it is only a matter of what your whim will have Quan Chi.

"So, uh, are you two leaving soon or hanging around longer?" the question posed Johnny, but it had more questions hidden underneath as his fingers danced on the wood. He doesn't like Quan Chi in his home, let alone sloshed like this, but he's trying to involve him for your sake. You glance back and see a drunk, wobbly Quan Chi holding onto you for support. In the back of his mind, there was still a drunken drive to impress you. A little voice whispered in his head. It told him it wasn't enough to be the better choice of all people, in your eyes, and the better choice of all creatures, even gods.

"I think I should get him home to the Netherrealm, have him sleep off the moonshine. Sorry, we can't stay longer, Johnny," you smile apologetically. Despite his expression dropping and sighing in relief, the filmmaker was more grateful you'd have the dark sorcerer out of his mansion. And as his final words before the portal closed with you and Quan Chi disappearing within the swirl of purple magic, Johnny asked you to be careful and not let Quan Chi throw a hissy fit or another temper tantrum over your time and affection being stolen from him.

Quan Chi basically has you carry-half drag him back into the fortress and towards your shared bedroom. Quan Chi insisted that it was too quiet in there and kept whispering in your ear as you pulled his turtle neck's collar, telling him the quicker he walked, the sooner he would be in bed. However, in the back of your head was a deep need and desire to give in to the sorcerer's wishes when he pawed and grasped for your shirt hem. When you finally pushed Quan Chi on his bed, the Sorcerer laid back and smirked, sitting up and using his elbows and hands to hold his frame steady as the hem of his sweater rode up enough to tease a hint of muscle. His eyes watch you hungrily as he fights his shoes and pants.

"Quan Chi, you're to drink. I'm going to read. Stay in bed," you say with a shake of your head, and without missing a beat, Quan Chi responds, "Why?" His slurred speech made his attempt to keep eye contact with you fail since he kept losing it or not making it and giggled to himself as his eyes glazed over.

"Because you're going to feel sick in an hour, and I'm not looking to be vomited on. So, get some rest for me, yes?" He tries to argue with his intoxicated, addled brain that his tolerance isn't as low as others but admits defeat and scoffs.

"Very well, my beloved," his drunk, drawling voice has your body flushing with heat. It sends a shiver up your spine and a tingle in your abdomen. You grab a book off the nightstand and crack it open, keeping an eye on him. The sorcerer gives you a drunken grin, making your heart hammer. The loud groan he gives draws your attention. You blush, staring at the man you love. How he lays sprawled in bed, stares at you lazily, and admires you with an intense hunger.

You clear your throat and adjust your seat slightly, ignoring Quan Chi's look of annoyance and amused grin. His features turn sour as you ignore his wants and focus on the words in the book. Quan Chi grumbled to himself, rolling onto his stomach and giving a frustrated grunt, breathing heavily against his pillow before looking back at you with a hurt expression.

You slightly rolled your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek. He must still be insecure because you've denied him. No, Quan Chi won't take the attention as the hurt you're ignoring him. You continue to read and try to enjoy your reading, ignoring the noise of distress. Quan Chi releases the longest-exaggerated whine.

"Don't ignore me! It isn't fair," his drawl-stained voice is whiny, needy and thick. But you close your eyes and keep your gaze on the words away from him, knowing that once you see him and make eye contact, you will immediately fold and go to him. Quan Chi has worked up to the point that his groaning and whining are genuine concerns as he lets out a strained sound that causes you to snap and book slam closed, earning a light flinch from Quan Chi.

He expects to have earned your attention since you aren't reading and look upset by something. Instead, he can't hold back the light purring in his throat as you stare with an arched eyebrow and frown, mostly confused and annoyed, but something in those eyes spoke volumes that made his gut flip, and his lips curled in an appreciative yet excited manner. You know this look because he is going to beg.

"Why the noises? And I can't tell if it's because you're frustrated at being denied, in pain or some other manner, so why are you so whiny and making so much noise?" you can tell your annoyed tone puts the Sorcerer on edge for only a second. Still, that little moment has him suddenly turning his body to face you and drawing a deep breath.

"Come closer," he drawls lazily, flicking his fingers to emphasise his desire. His smirk and the darkened, predatory look had your body fluttering and growing warm as you sat in your armchair. You blink slowly as the Sorcerer has turned on his charm. But if that wasn't enough, he released another purring hum, the smirk disappearing to give you a slight, soft pout as he shuffled to sit up against the headboard.

"No," the way you shut him down and go back to your book sends an annoyed growl up Quan Chi's throat as the hurt feeling resurfaces. It was probably best the Sorcerer wasn't angry. Besides, as much as he has changed and tried to be different and learn about healthy relationships, it's also best not to stir the pot since the sorcerer still has to unlearn jealousy's influence and how it plays a part.

Your boyfriend slouches his back, pulls up his shirt, and lightly brushes his abdomen and hipbones as his bottom lip juts slightly. "Why?" You blink in response before looking back up from your book, opening your mouth but then closing it when no words leave you, and instead, a heavy sigh falls past your lips as he pouts with sad puppy dog eyes.

"Because I love you, and you won't enjoy drunk sex as much as you think. Also, I want to take my time loving you without the cloud of a hangover and needy pants making you aggressive." Quan Chi looked offended as you stared, face neutral. The silence lingered between you until a smug smile spread across his face. He had a way out and a way for him to have control without letting it slip through his fingers.

"Fine, I'll deal with my needs alone then," he whined as he caressed and scratched his hip and his happy trail, eyes challenging you to break and indulge his sexual desires, despite him not realising those needs were the exact opposite of what he wanted.

"You need to have control over everything, huh? Fine, have fun blue-balling yourself tonight and tomorrow," you say and adjust to lay back and pull a cushion to prop the book open, and you go back to reading and enjoying the quiet, soft silence in the air. Quan Chi looked stunned, bewildered, and at a loss, not expecting you to pass on the chance. A mischievous smirk made its way on his lips, though his head panged dully, and he paused to remove his gloves as his brain began fogging and making the room swim. Seeing your beautiful smile and hearing you say, 'I love you,' has the sorcerer pulling the blankets and quilt up to cover his legs. You know he is agitated because he hides behind the black sheets and sulks quietly.

As the minutes ticked by, you looked up and heard soft, tired grumbles and muffled whines as Quan Chi stayed hidden away, buried in the darkest shadow his blanket gave. There it is, the exhaustion from the alcohol hitting his system. When it had the man fighting to stay awake, he snored gently until your weight made the mattress dip, and a muffled sound escaped him. He never raised his face and looked at you. No, you carefully wrapped yourself around him, arms hooking through his own and around his stomach as your front was pressed to his back.

You moved the neckline of the Sorcerer's clothing and rubbed at his neck gently. The nape of his neck is sensitive, and the circles you rubbed helped relax him as the sounds returned but became a relaxed humming as he enjoyed your affections. "Goodnight, Quan Chi. Love you," his breathing grew slow and quiet, and your words were answered.

"Night. Love...you..." and it was there in the silence that made you chuckle and nuzzle his cheek that your beloved dark sorcerer passed out to dream away and rest his drunkenness and fatigue. There will be some hell to pay when he's more aware of what has been going on and is less drunk. But you don't care; you'll make up for everything by bringing him the comfort and love he deserves.

...

Quan Chi awoke with a groan, his headache pounding and spinning his head. It was worse since he drank that liquid fire disguised as liquor. The man pressed a hand to the side of his temple as his body ached, and he couldn't remember the night. At least the last memory he can recall was you sitting down to read and the smell of liquor invading his sense of smell. "Hngh," Quan Chi moaned softly into his hand.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" You cooed, and the sorcerer looked over with a narrow, almost annoyed glare. Still, it quickly softened, and the apology went unsaid. He sighed gently and rolled towards you, shuffling back and rolling towards you, slipping back into his cuddle spot, pressing himself close and wrapping an arm around your torso. Your palm slides over the back of his skull, rubbing his crown and working lower.

"If you let me up, I'll go get you some water and something for that splitting migraine you've got," you whisper to him as his mouth presses to the crown of your head. His slow nod shows how the light makes his head swim, and your body shifts as Quan Chi rolls back and gives space to do just that. He moans again more disappointedly, making it known he regrets moving and prefers your body heat.

"I'll only be a minute," you say as you move out of bed and towards the door.

"Better," his throat is dry, his mouth dry and scratchy as he closes his eyes and lets his head swim a little, trying to recall last night. Still, he isn't too bothered, not enough to press any further and seek the memory. His focus is on how his mind can barely formulate sentences, and every thought worsens his head.

"How are you feeling otherwise, baby?" the question of concern is appreciated when you offer a cup of water to him, and he chugs the entire thing down, holding the glass out for a refill.

"Like hell. Tired and hurting all over," he gives a snarky response, which earns him a smile, a gentle rub against his cheek and a cheek pinch, which he groans at.

"Aren't you glad I kept turning you down last night?" you tease the groaning, barely thinking Sorcerer as he stares blearily at the glass with a frown, unable to pinpoint anything he may or may not have done. You place it beside the bottle on the nightstand before settling beside the Sorcerer, rubbing his neck before gliding your fingertips to the side of his temple and beginning gentle circular motions to help alleviate his aches.

"The hell do you mean?" is Quan Chi's groan of curiosity, blinking the bleariness out and opening and closing his mouth.

"Last night, after I got us home from the get-together at Johnny's, you kept trying to seduce me despite my rejections. Of course, a drunk version of yourself kept moaning and groaning, whining, pouting," Quan Chi opened his eyes and rolled them to meet your gaze. His head pangs, but he gives an acknowledging sound. "So, you turned me down and still took care of me after," Quan Chi gave an appreciative hum as the smile grew larger.

"Of course, love. No harm, no foul. You'll feel better later today after sleeping this off. Are you okay? Do you need another glass of water before going back to bed?" a smile and the gesture were appreciative as the man snuggled into you.

"Please," Quan Chi snuggled into your warmth, and you returned to the kitchen to grab a bottle, to his grateful moan. As he settled for some long and needed sleep, his appreciation was a tender kiss on your lips, a muttered "Love you", and a possessive arm and grip as the sleep claimed him. Quan Chi buried his face in the crook of your neck as you soothed the pain, stroked and stroked his head until your beloved Dark Sorcerer of Netherrealm could feel better later.

...

You woke up before him, seeing him curled up beside you. He is sprawled on the sheets. His right hand holds onto yours in your grasp. Your palm had the back of his knuckles. You lean up, stretching. "Ah," Quan Chi turns and watches you through one open eye. He looks away, grunting a bit before speaking.

"How are you feeling?" You ask, giving him space to roll onto his back. Your fingers begin massaging him. Your fingers apply pressure against the base of his skull before sliding up to where they cradle and soothe the ache. You oversee him before touching his cheek again. His eyes closed once more when they looked back at you again. He's grateful to see you've forgiven him and his behaviour yesterday, the soft look of concern and how you caressed his forehead. His headache dulled now, thankfully, since he's been up long enough and suffered the lingering symptoms and effects, drinking lots of fluids as well, especially his bottle of water.

"Well, enough. Head is a little dizzy, but..." you kissed him profoundly and cupped both cheeks. "I should be fine." Quan Chi rasped a husky, raspy morning voice, still low with sleep, rumbled in his chest and neck as Quan Chi drew in his lover, who was chuckling and peppering his shoulder and neck with little kisses.

"Happy hangover recovery, my love," you chuckled and laughed harder when the Sorcerer lifted one hand off the ground to rub his temple.

"I'd hardly call this a recovery, but I will make it work if you are around, my Beloved," the man responded while leaning back to glance at your grinning, joyous face, chuckling as he felt relief.

"Do you want me to bring you breakfast? Keep the sunlight from obliterating you while you recover?" You joke softly and let the Sorcerer run his hand over your cheek. Your palms took either cheek in his hands as your gaze focused on him. Quan Chi gives a slight grin. "That might work," the man answers with a nod.

"Okay. Give me a few minutes and get cleaned up, and I'll be back." You release his chin and give him a chaste kiss as you puttered around your room, getting dressed before wandering towards the kitchen. As soon as your foot left the bedroom threshold and turned the corner, Quan Chi rolled out of bed and sluggishly went to take a shower. By the time his shower finished and you returned, his headache was more manageable, and the world a bit less blurry.

When you returned to the room, Quan Chi had also gotten himself changed, sitting at the edge of the bed waiting. He stands quickly and looks a bit dizzy momentarily, his face pale before returning its colour, and he huffs. You shake your head and let him come over, pinching and pulling his cheek.

"Here, I brought you something for that headache and something to eat. Eat first, take medicine later, got it?" you demand the Sorcerer with a huff and frown. You weren't truly mad; the act amused the Sorcerer's face.

"Alright," he agrees quietly while accepting the food tray, pausing and looking worried at the strange sensation of something stirring inside him. But he sits on the bed with you, resting his cheek on your shoulder blade and closing his eyes, listening to your pulse while munching on scrambled eggs.

He sets the tray on the table near your side. Quan Chi stays leaning on your back for a moment until he goes to retrieve the plate again but ends up hugging you again instead. His lips leave a trail along your bare neck and collar.

His breathing picks up again when you turn around, looking directly into your eyes and allowing Quan Chi's mouth to graze along the column of your neck, where it lingers on one spot.

"Can't seem to get enough of you," his low voice whispers with an unexpected smile. The expression itself draws a warm feeling through him. Something deep in him aches for affection, especially when they're rare, unique, and often fleeting. The last one occurred not even two minutes ago. "Never would," he mutters before leaving more trails up and down the sensitive skin and drawing breathy, husky laughs from your mouth.

Small update: I've been MIA due to medical issues with my mother and I have been really into DBZ and playing Borderlands and Paleopines lately. I'll definitely be righting for DBZ villains soon

:readmore:

#quan chi #mk x reader #quan chi x reader #mortal kombat #fanfic request

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mk-writes-stuff · 2 months

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Word Associations Game

Rules: post some common words/themes/concepts from your WIP(s)

Thanks @kaylinalexanderbooks and @autism-purgatory for the tags! CW for mentions of abuse

Seven Station Chronicles

Common word: nobility

Like it or not (and trust me, Cassie does not like it), the nobles are one of the defining facets of the seven stations. Everything goes back to them one way or another (and that is definitely not a good thing)

Common theme: self-discovery

Every major character in Seven Stations is going through major self-revelations and coming to terms with who they are, who they can be, and who they have to be. It’s a rougher ride for some than for others (but let’s be real it’s pretty tough for all of them)

Common concept: abuse

There is a lot of abuse and dehumanization in the seven stations (stemming from aforementioned nobles). All of the protagonists have gone through a lot of abuse, but they’re recovering from it one step at a time

The Pirates’ Roost

Common word: captain

Kind of an obvious one for a pirate story, I know, but the captains of the various ships are central to the story. Merry’s life goal is to be the captain of a pirate ship, and both pirate and vampire captains feature heavily in primarily antagonistic roles

Common theme: recovery

Everyone in The Pirates’ Roost (okay not quite but there’s a lot) has been through some sort of horrible, painful experience. A lot of them have been through multiple. But they’re all healing, even if it’s just a bit at a time

Common concept: culture

The world of The Pirates’ Roost is full of complex cultures that are mistrustful of each other and fighting for their own space. There’s a lot of culture clash, even between protagonists

To Kill a Dead Thing

Bonus one because I think it’ll be fun for this game even though I’m not really working on it atm :)

Common word: hidden

The main villain, the Thief, wears other people’s faces to hide in plain sight and no one knows his own. Iskra, a major side character, insists on keeping this whole operation a secret - and she and her friend/business associate/partner Viv are definitely keeping secrets. And Nova, a good friend of Andreia, the deuteragonist, might be hiding a lot more than she would ever admit

Common theme: morals

One of the big questions in To Kill a Dead Thing is where your morals lie and what you’ll do in pursuit of your goals. The Thief seems to be trying to tear apart the protagonist Alexi’s morals - and Alexi is in the edge of cracking. Andreia gets involved with some things that are definitely on the edge of legal and questionably moral trying to help. And Viv and Iskra are definitely hiding something they maybe shouldn’t be, if not outright lying to everyone else, and no one knows if they’re justified or if they’re using the other characters for their own ends

Common concept: obsession

The Thief seems to have some deeply twisted obsession with Alexi. The more you learn about Iskra, the more you wonder if she’s really as emotionally uninvested in the Thief’s capture as she pretends. And Andreia’s friend Nova might just have a little more attention on Andreia than Andreia knows or would like to admit - and a bit more attention on Alexi than is good for either of them

This was fun!

@illarian-rambling @wyked-ao3 @rkmoon want to play?

#writeblr #tag game #seven station chronicles #the pirates’ roost #to kill a dead thing

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uno-in-the-clouds · 9 months

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I have. So many thoughts about Sun in help wanted 2. Not bad ones at all, just a lot thoughts. (Spoilers ahead for HW2 and a little from Ruin) also this is a long one, so buckle up

Aight, so I have not watched a lot of gameplay of the Arts and Crafts minigame, bc I would have simply been way too excited to even stand still and not get overwhelmed by pure joy. BUT I have listened to his voice lines in the game (via YouTube)

After listening to all of them, I got three main thoughts (and a bonus thought about Moon)

One, holy smokes he is a freaking savage (and even more of one once I discovered that apparently his line “It speaks to me!” Was actually NOT him complimenting you genuinely and he actually immediately shreds your work in front of you after saying that, and I’m dying of laughter here FHSGGFGDJDJG)

Two, I’m like, actually kinda happy that there’s this side to Sun? Like, it gives more nuance to his personality overall. And I think has been a part of him from the start, back in the main security breach game? We just haven’t been shown it much. Maybe not much of his sassiness, but I’m also thinking about his temper. Like, sun was really pissed at Gregory at the end of the daycare mission, to the point that he bans the poor kid. And there’s also that one cut voice line of his that goes “I’M PUTTING YOU IN TIME OUT!” And it’s in a really angry voice, unlike moon surprisingly, despite both of them sharing this one line. And then there’s also that one fazwatch about how moon practically traumatized kids enough that they’re scared to sleep with the lights off, but when the lights turn on, the kid straight up wets themself. Which implies that not only has Moon terrified kids, but so has Sun as well. And if we’re really supposed to be a kid in the arts and crafts minigame, then i think we found the context for that part of the message. I feel bad for that kid.

I’ve kinda kept in mind for a while that Sun is not always so patient and uh, kind. And I kinda like that since then it’s easier to write him In certain different situations. And this revelation from HW2 honestly validates the way I’ve written him in my own AU, and oh boy is this gonna fun!(no sarcasm) (I not gonna elaborate on that point bc it’s not the focus of this post, tho im happy to talk about my AU if anyone wants to know more)

Three: I genuinely wonder if we’re specifically playing as a kid, an adult (maybe a staff member) or, as I’ve heard from other people’s theories, we might be playing as a possessed staff bot?? I feel like the first idea might be likely since there’s a voice line from sun in the minigame, where he says that we (the player) are gonna be in timeout until our parents come to pick us up. However, I’ve only seen the beginning of the minigame, and only know the rest through listening to voice lines. So I don’t have much context for the voice line and I could very well be wrong.

Bonus thought: I’ve heard that Moon appears a lot in other mini games compared to other characters, including Sun. But despite that I really can’t get a good read on his personality besides either him being a silly yet unnerving boogie man (SB and HW2) , and literally in aggressive pain(Ruin) and probably a softie but we really haven’t seen him act that way, only just read/seen it second hand, like his moondrop posters and one description from Cassie in Ruin. Again it could be bc I haven’t seen much of the new game and only heard voice lines from one of his mini games, but I’m really not sure.

Aight that sums it all up. This game is really good.

#sorry if it is like incomprehensible #I had a lot on my mind #fnaf secruity breach #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf help wanted 2 #fnaf spoilers #fnaf hw 2 #fnaf hw2 spoilers #fnaf help wanted 2 spoilers #fnaf security breach #fnaf moon

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thursdayygrrrl · 2 years

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hairstyles and revelations

⌦ .｡.:*♡

characters: cassie howard x gn!reader (they have hair long enough to style)

genre: very very very slight angst if you squint, mostly fluff, kinda idiots in love, first kiss

summary/excerpt: Maddy, Kat, and BB were supposed to be there but they all ditched. Maddy said she was going to be with Nate (which you thought was a lie since you all knew they weren’t on speaking terms at the moment, but you just let her go anyway because you didn’t want to put up with a fight). Kat said she had “things to do” and didn’t elaborate further while BB just ghosted. Leaving you and Cassie alone.

word count: 2,011

a/n: idk how to feel abt this ole draft but i thought it wouldn’t hurt to post since someone might wanna read it. also, the title sucks, it’s a bit self-indulgent, and it isn’t proofread (english isn't really my first language pls bear with me) so... don’t expect too much but happy reading anyways!

You and Cassie were in your room and you were nervous out of your mind. You had a small crush on her when you first met, but you were sure it was a superficial attraction solely based on looks. Once you spent more time with these girls, you weren’t quite sure if your crush on the blonde was still superficial. You could tell by your heartbeat and the million thoughts that were flooding your head.

One does not get this nervous when hanging out with a friend. Or at least a friend who you were pretty sure you were good at faking your feelings in front of.

Maddy, Kat, and BB were supposed to be there but they all ditched. Maddy said she was going to be with Nate (which you thought was a lie since you all knew they weren’t on speaking terms at the moment, but you just let her go anyway because you didn’t want to put up with a fight). Kat said she had “things to do” and didn’t elaborate further while BB just ghosted. Leaving you and Cassie alone.

When you hung out with her, it was always in a group setting. You thought she had discovered your crush on her and didn’t want to be around you alone because it made her uncomfortable.

You got the memo. It’s happened before, with your former “friends”.

You let that thought pass while scrolling through Netflix, trying to choose a movie to watch. She took in your room through her eyes. You didn’t know it, but she was trying to capture every tiny detail of you. Every poster up on your walls, every trinket on your bedside table, every book on your shelves. She wanted to know more than just the surface, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask you. Instead, she settled with silently admiring you from afar.

You position yourself and the laptop on your bed and finally clicked play on something.

When she hears it start playing, she makes her way over and sits next to you. You hand her a pillow while she asks you a question.

“What are we watching, Y/N?”

“Bodies Bodies Bodies.”

“Cool.”

She nods. Both of you are unsure what to do now, so you let the movie fill the awkward silence that took over. You decide to calm down. Or at least try your best to do so. With that, you let yourself pay full attention to the movie despite having already seen it before.

You don’t notice Cassie catching glimpses of you. She takes in your eyes, the curve of your cheek, the pinkness of your lips, and your silky hair. Specifically, the way it lays and flows, how you unconsciously play with it, and how you never seem to do anything with it. The most “done-up” your hair had ever been, at least to her, was during the winter formal. It was curled, made to frame your face. Simple, understated, and perfect. She couldn’t look away from you that night, and neither can she now.

When the movie hits a lull, you finally look at Cassie, only to catch her staring right at you.

“Woah, why are we… Do I have something on my face?”

“Um, no, I was just—just looking at you.”

She sounds flustered as she looks away, averting her gaze from you to your sheets

“Okay. May I ask why?”

“It’s just, I think your hair looks good like all the time.”

“Oh. Tha—”

You didn’t know she paid that much attention to you.

She cuts you off. A habit of hers you’ve grown fond of.

“Not saying that you should always be styling it or whatever. You should do what makes you comfortable and all but,” She hesitates. “I can’t help but think of braiding it.”

“Huh?”

“You know those braids we have during pep rallies and games? I do those and I wanna see what they look like on you.”

You knew, you even saw her do Maddy’s hair before these events. Some of those braids looked intricate. You vividly remember thinking that Cassie was good with her hands.

God, you need to get your mind out of the gutter.

The thought of her hands running through your hair always seemed enticing. You’ll admit you fantasized about it sometimes. Maybe this would be a good way to grow closer to her. And, let’s be honest, you couldn’t say no to her.

“Sure, let me get a comb and some elastics.”

You got up to find these items and sat in the middle of your bed once you had them. You rested your hands between your thighs, unsure of what to do with them now that you placed the supplies beside you. The mattress dipped as Cassie positioned herself behind you, on her knees to get a better view of the top of your head. She combed your hair to get rid of any tangles and parted it down the middle with gentle fingers. Then she got to work, setting aside the left portion of your hair to work with the right one first. You began to speak, letting the dialogue of the movie serve as background noise.

“I like hanging out with you, Cassie.”

“Me too, Y/N. Thanks for having me over even without the others.”

You waved her off to indicate that she didn’t have to thank you.

“Are you liking the movie?”

In truth, Cassie was only paying attention to you.

“I am! I love Alice.”

“She’s so funny, I love her!”

Another silence, save for the movie. You decide to speak up again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“Why is it that we—um, we never hang out? Like just the two of us?”

She doesn’t respond.

Shit. Fuck, shit, motherfucking shit.

Sometimes, you really should think harder before speaking.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I asked you that. I—fuck, um.”

You swore under your breath. It was all you could think to say. She snaps you out of yourself.

“Hey, no. It’s okay.”

She pauses, takes a breath, and continues.

“You never asked before. And I thought you didn’t like me so I didn’t wanna force myself on you.”

The thought of Cassie thinking you didn’t like her made you want to vomit. Because the truth was that you liked her so much, it made you want to scream. To fall off a balcony. To hit something with a baseball bat. To do stupid, cheesy, romantic things that she always wanted from whatever guy she was seeing. Stuff like posting each other on your Instagram stories, wearing matching outfits, calling each other “honeybunch” or some other cringe-worthy pet name.

“What?”

You asked exaggeratedly, dragging out the last syllable like a sitcom character caught in a lie, in a vain attempt to disguise the nervousness in your voice.

“Remember when we first met? I asked you what your name was and it took you. like, a full minute to respond. And the last time we were all together at Kat’s house, you didn’t wanna sit beside me even if it was the only spot left. And it’s not like we talk outside of the group all that much.”

You were grateful that you weren’t face-to-face with her at that moment because your eyes were freakishly wide. You didn’t realize that she noticed how you avoided her and how awkward you were around her. Regaining some composure, you mumbled.

“Thought you wouldn’t notice that.”

“Well, I did.”

Against all better judgment, you decided to just tell her and get it over with. People take risks all the time. You convince yourself that another one wouldn’t hurt. You unconsciously brace yourself for whatever’s about to happen.

“I like you, Cassie.”

“Yeah, I know. You already said that, Y/N.”

She says. You can hear the slight smirk in her voice, which will always be one of your favorite sounds.

“No, I said I like hanging out with you. What I mean now is that—is I like like you. As in I have a crush on you.”

Cassie’s fingers stop moving. You thought your question was bad? Now you think you’ve gone too far, that you were too blunt, that you fucked up yet another friendship all because you caught feelings. She could rip your hair off your scalp and you wouldn’t blame her.

The silence from her was unbearable. You tried to pivot, moving to face her, but she held you still. Her grip on your hair remained firm, not allowing you to turn around.

“Wait, don’t move. I don’t wanna have to redo this.”

“But—”

She interrupts you again. Using your words, she confesses. The words come out in a whisper.

“I like like you too, Y/N.”

Now, it’s your turn to fall silent. You blink dumbfoundedly as it sinks in.

“Wait. You—you’re lying.”

She finishes up, securing your hair neatly with an elastic. You could feel the slight pressure on your scalp. Cassie moves her hands to the other side.

How is she still so calm about this?

"I’m not! I really do like you. And that’s why I respected your decision to not be with me outside of the group.”

“The only reason I didn’t make moves to talk or hang out with just you is because I thought you already knew I had a thing for you and you got weirded out or something!”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the incredulity of your shared predicament, especially at all the awkwardness the two of you could have avoided if only one of you were brave enough to have confessed earlier. You joined her in this laughter.

“What?” She asks, puzzled and in between giggles. “There’s no way I’d ever get weirded out by you, Y/N. I thought you would be the one weirded out by me. The dumb blonde cheerleader…” She trails off.

“Oh, god, no! There’s no way I ever thought that about you, Cassie. I mean, you’re—you’re thoughtful, attentive, smart, funny…”

She tried to stop herself from smiling so wide while she fussed with your hair. You trail off.

What was that word again?

“You’re ethereal,” you whispered.

Found it.

She had heard all sorts of words from guys before, but it never felt real. It was as if they were reading from a script. But hearing it from you was the only way it felt genuine. She could tell you were speaking from the heart. You made her feel seen.

The absence of her fingers was your cue to turn around. Once you do, the both of you bashfully avoid each other’s eye contact.

The air felt charged, You knew you had to do something, anything, so you begin to tilt your face to see her. But she cuts you off. Her lips crash into yours in a messy but passionate kiss.

This must be a dream.

Your right hand rests on her thigh as the other one pinches your own. The sensation serves to prove that this is, in fact, not a dream.

She keeps going, the desperation in her movements almost like a plea to explore you. You allow her to take the lead. She loosely wraps her arms around your neck while yours are now around her waist. She pulls away, both of you breathing heavily and warm all over. She whispers.

“I’ve wanted to do that for the longest time, Y/N.”

You look into her eyes, pleadingly, for a sign that this is real.

You look and all you can see is the love she has for you. It’s practically pouring out of her. You hope she sees the same from you because, by god, you feel it bursting through you. She continues.

“I’m so glad we’re friends but I’d be lying if I told you that I want us to stay like that. Just friends.”

This time, you beat her to it.

“If you’re asking me to be with you, Cass, then my answer is yes. It will always be yes.”

#ky writes!#oneshot #fanfic #euphoria #euphoria oneshot #euphoria fanfic #cassie howard #cassie howard x reader #cassie x reader #cassie x you

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latelyanobsession · 2 years

Text

Hell to Play

summary the hawkins high tigers are finally in the running for state champs for the first time since 1962 after playing the quarter finals against a visiting catholic high school. after a knockout win against the knights, billy convinces a wayward st. john’s girl to join him for a ride in the camaro.

warnings cursing, smut, light on plot

word count 2,501

note i really wanted to do the catholic schoolgirl dynamic for a while... so now i’ve done it. 😏 i can’t decide however, if this should just be a one off, or if (like i’m still considering...) if i should turn it into a smut series. comment or message to let me know what you guys think!

As always any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

The roar of the crowd was thundering in his ears. Bodies pushing, feet shuffling, as he ran down the court.

The basketball dribbling rhythmically. A feigned left pass, a dodge to the right. Barreling straight down the middle.

He jumped, hand on the rim as the buzzer blared. Into the basket.

The spectators flew from their seats. Flooding the court. Hands all over him, clapping his back in celebration. Arms wrapping around him.

It was all over.

The Tigers had done it. Semi-finalists. For the first time in forever!

The crowd was thinning. Revelers planning which homes would be hosting afterparties in nearby Loch Nora.

The visiting team retreating to the locker rooms. Their cheering section, dragging themselves solemnly out of the gym.

Prying himself from the thick throng of his teammates he headed towards the locker room when he tripped and nearly fell.

Catching himself in a less then graceful hop, he turned to meet the burning gaze of a visiting student. Pulling her backpack back in between her legs, an open textbook on her lap, she glared up at him.

He raised an eyebrow, curiosity infecting his features.

“Hargrove, you comin’ or what?” a teammate called, ushering him back towards the locker rooms.

Joining his teammates, he spared a glance as she stood, joining another girl and heading out the doors.

You stood outside the gym with your friend Patty, leaning against the wall reading as you both waited for her boyfriend to get out of the locker room.

“Can’t you put that away?” Patty whined, pulling your textbook away from your face, hand spread flat across the passage your were trying to read.

“No....” you argued. “The test is tomorrow. Besides, Andy takes forever...”

Patty stamped her foot dramatically, puffing her cheeks, “You’re no fun.”

“I’m plenty fun...” you replied, turning a page. “Just when it’s a better time.”

“Let’s get some smokes from my car...” Patty suggested, “I don’t want to be bored and grumpy.”

Without a word, you pushed off the wall following along behind your friend, nose tucked into the pages of your book.

“How’s my two best girls doin?!” a loud voice shouted, wrapping their arms around you and throwing you for a spin in the air.

You squealed, book falling from your grasp to the ground as you caught air. Your skirt flashing upwards.

“Andy!” you shrieked, legs kicking. “Put me down!”

Patty laughed obnoxiously, “He gets you every time!”

Snatching your book off the ground, you tried to smooth out the crumpled pages it landed on. Closing the book with a sharp snap.

Wrapping their arms around one another, the pair gave each other an unsightly kiss.

“Can’t you two do that when you get to his place?” you spat in disgust.

“Y’know Andy... I think she’s jealous...” Patty said thoughtfully, digging a pack of cigarettes from her boyfriend’s jacket pocket.

Andy tapped his chin, “Hmmm could be... not like she’s gotten laid in a while.”

They both snickered, as you rolled your eyes.

“Can we please go?” you stressed, foot turned out towards the parking lot.

“We?” Patty asked, exhaling smoke as she handed Andy back the lighter.

“Yeah, we....” you repeated impatiently, “You said you’d take me home after the game...”

The couple exchanged a look.

“Listen Y/N”, Patty started, voice growing slow and sweet, “Hun... can’t you hookup with Cassy for a ride? I saw her around. Andy and I... well we’re gonna... y’know.”

You snorted angrily.

How typical. Patty lived three houses over from you. Had gone to school with you since the 4th grade. Had been your carpool since she got her license and new car... your parents couldn’t afford a car for you.

And here she was trying to pawn you off. ... If Cassy was still even here.

“You seriously can’t just drop me off and go fuck after?!” you asked incredulously.

Patty was getting uncomfortable. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Hey Y/N, just go find Cassy... Patty said she’s here... don’t cause such a hissy fit.” Andy stated, arm around her shoulder.

They were heading off, her keys in his hands.

“I’ll see you at school...” Patty said with an awkwardly apologetic smile.

“Yeah... whatever.” you sniped, kicking at the gravel.

“I could take you...” a husky voice offered.

You whirled around, meeting a deep pair of cerulean blue eyes.

“I don’t even know you...” you quipped. Arms crossing. Pulling your book tight against your frame.

“I’m Billy...” he smiled charmingly, “Billy Hargrove.”

He offered a hand in greeting. “Now you know me.”

You gave his hand the weakest of possible shakes. “Hardly.”

He shrugged, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder nonchalantly.

“Shame...” he mused, “You could always get to know me better on the ride home...”

He walked away.

You frowned, chewing your cheek in frustration as your options dwindled.

“Wait!” you shouted, sprinting to catch up with him, “You even know how to get to Haddenfield from here?”

He opened the driver’s door, tossing the gym bag carelessly into the backseat.

“Nope. But you do.” he reasoned.

You stood there, nervously eyeing his car. Ears pricking, as you watched your friend peel out of the lot and abandon you.

No choices left now.

“Coming?” he looked down the bridge of his nose at you, fingers drumming against the console.

You exhaled, walking around the front of his car, and sliding into the passenger’s seat. Bag dropped behind your seat. The cold leather making contact against the back of your thighs. Goosebumps prickling up on your skin.

You shivered.

“Something the matter?” he asked, starting the engine.

Your face flushed as you looked straight ahead. “No... nothing.”

“So schoolgirl. What’s your name?” he asked casually, car pulling out onto the main road heading for the highway junction.

“Y/N.” you answered, thumbs fidgeting with the pages of your book.

“Y/N?” he repeated. “Pretty name for a pretty girl...”

You said nothing. Avoiding looking at him. Your face was growing hotter by the moment.

The car came to a stop.

“Which way?” he questioned. The four-way junction out ahead of you.

“Uh... uh. You gotta take... 9 North toward Marion and then 14 East for ten miles.”

The car picked up speed again, turning onto the county road. Engine revving as the city lights fell into the distance.

The drive was silent, save for your racing heartbeat. You could hardly stand it.

“That was a great play you made. ... At the end.” you offered with a lopsided smile.

“Thanks.” he chuffed, “Didn’t realize you were watching... thought you were busy reading.”

You dropped your head, embarrassed.

“I was trying to...” you mumbled, eyes flitting over at him. Watching his hands grip the wheel, biceps rippling.

He caught your stare. Lips pulled taught in a smug smile, as his tongue darted out quickly. Swiping across his bottom lip in thought.

“You’ll need to take exit 34...” you said sheepishly, eyes fixing on your shoes.

Pulling off the highway and into your sleepy town, he sped down the streets.

“Um...Billy...?” you looked out the window. “You need to turn around. My house is back that way...”

“Noted.” he practically growled, foot pressing the accelerator harder.

Taking a sharp left turn he found what he was looking for.

Pulling down a heavily wooded service road, he shifted into park.

Turning in his seat, he looked at you, arm resting on the steering wheel.

“Wanna have some fun before I take you home?” he questioned, eyes scanning your frame from top to bottom.

Your heart skipped a beat, tongue catching in your throat.

He was flirtatious but you hadn’t expected an all out invitation to partake in something salacious from this boy you had just met.

“What’s it gonna be?” he drawled, head tilting towards you.

“S-sure...” you spoke with a wavering confidence.

He threw open the driver’s side door, sliding his seat back from the steering wheel.

“Get over here.” he commanded calmly.

Leaving your side of the car, you walked over to his side, ducking your head and gingerly climbing into his lap.

“You look nervous...” he cooed, stroking his thumb and forefinger across your cheek.

You met his gaze, cheeks hot and eyes wide.

“-’m not nervous...” you lied, voice quivering.

He chuckled, “You may just be too good of a girl for me... Is that it?”

“Are you a good girl?” he asked.

His voice was taunting you, as his thumb traveled over your lips, plucking at the plush swell of your bottom lip and tugging. Thrusting his thumb between your lips.

Testing you. Seeing how willingly you’d give in to him.

And you did.

Letting his digit invade your mouth, wrapping your tongue around it wantonly.

“Maybe not such a good girl after all...?” he mused aloud, removing his finger and wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you down towards him.

Seizing you in a hungry kiss, his lips slotted against yours greedily as he dragged your body closer to his.

Rocking your hips against his pelvis, you whined into his mouth as you felt that telltale ‘bump’ forming. Rubbing right against your clothed core and making you clench involuntarily.

He groaned, a hand clamping down hard on your waist, guiding your movements in broad and weighted strokes across his lap. His length and need growing against you, concentrating the wetness between your legs. A damp patch blooming in your panties.

Lifting you up gruffly, he shifted a hand south, pulling his basketball shorts down just enough to free his throbbing cock. The ruddy tip springing up, leaking precum against his jersey.

Moving a hand down, you wrapped it around him, thumb gathering the beading pre and smearing it leisurely around the crown, causing him to hiss and jut his hips into your grasp.

“Don’t tease...” he grumbled, hands gripping your ass, hauling you close.

You squeaked, hands clinging to his chest for balance as his fingers parted the crotch of your panties from your soaked folds. Threads of arousal strung between the material and your wet sex.

Dipping his cock into your folds, the head teasing your entrance, he smirked.

“Not a good girl at all...”

You mewled, the preemptive twinges of pain making your spine tingle with each tempting prod he made.

He stretched your sensitive walls around him as he lowered you down on his length. Intruding inch by inch. Filling you to the brim.

Gripping him tightly, you dug your nails into his jersey. Your hips tilting forward to seat him deeper within you as he bottomed out with a long groan.

“Baby....” he breathed, voice low and velveteen. “Fuck, baby that’s nice...”

You moaned lewdly, head lolling back as he thrust into you apathetically.

An arm secured around your middle, he pushed into you. Each languid stroke dragging across your inner muscles with intent.

Pulling away with enough subtlety to make you whimper, your walls clamoring and trembling at the sudden loss. Only for you to gasp and pule when he jabbed his cock back up inside you.

His free hand untucking your polo, fingers quickly slithering up your skin and beneath your bra. Hands roughly cupping and kneading your breasts.

“You’re pussy is soaked...” he rasped, dick driving up within you at an increasing pace. His hips rutting into yours at an angle that made your thighs ache.

“Do you slut yourself out to anyone or just me?” he hummed, lips close to your ear. Tongue licking a thick stripe down your neck that made you mewl and clench around him.

He groaned in response, manhandling your breast. Hand squeezing tightly. Lips locking onto the pulse point on your neck.

You whined, hands clutching desperately at him. Your legs beginning to quiver and quake. The heat of your climax building. The exhaustion of holding this position taking its toll.

A deep growl rumbling through his chest, you cried out as his pace reached its apex. Cock plunging into your depths.

His hand abandoning your chest, fingers playing at your folds. Searching for that tender button that would be the key to your release. Your hips jolting forward harshly as his index finger brushed it.

A resounding laugh falling from his lips as he kissed you hotly. Lips and spit. Tongue and teeth sliding against yours ravenously.

“Found it...” he stated smugly, his mouth covering yours as his fingers descended on you. His thrusts delving deeper, prying at your womb.

Tears pricking the corners of your eyes, you knew wouldn’t hold out much longer. Your hips thrusting in tandem with his. Chasing each stroke and prodding touch from his wicked fingers.

“I’m not gonna...” you panted. A pathetic jumble of words getting tripped up on the edge of your tongue as he pressed down on your clit hard, finger drawing rough circles around the center of nerves.

“I’m ... I’m...!” you protested, eyes falling out of focus. Hips pitching forward violently as you felt it snap. The heat flooding you.

You couldn’t hold it back. Voice brittle as you keened out your peak.

Even he didn’t expect your end to be near that fierce. You caught him by surprise.

“Shit, baby!” he groaned as your walls clamped down around him. His thrusts losing their inertia.

He needed to retreat.

Flee before this phenomenal feeling turned into one of regret.

Inelegantly withdrawing, he came. Warm spurts of cum running through your folds as he jutted lazily through his high.

“Why did you do that...?” you whined pathetically, cheeks darkly tinged with humiliation.

He looked up at you annoyed, fingers pulling your underwear back in place with a rude snap.

“You’d rather I cum inside?” he questioned haughtily.

You stiffened in his grasp, readjusting to the unpleasant and shameful feeling pressing up between your thighs.

“No...” you answered, quietly.

He tapped your ass to get you off, putting himself back together and readjusting his seat.

Sighing, you slipped back into the passenger’s seat and gave him the directions to your home.

Pulling alongside the curb in front of your house, you smoothed out your hair and blouse. Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible to your parents.

Your were an hour and a half past curfew. But figured you could blame it on Patty this time.

“Thanks for the ride... Billy...” you smiled sheepishly, opening the door and reaching over the seat to grab your bag.

“Will I see you again?” you asked, bag hanging from your shoulder as you stood on the sidewalk.

He looked you up and down once, before he rolled up the window. Driving away without a word.

“That’s a hell no...” you muttered, heading for the front door feeling the wet glide of your combined slick between your legs.

Unlocking the door you winced at your father’s voice.

“Young lady, where have you been?!”

Your life carried on. Grounded for a weekend.

That was until you saw him in your school parking lot three weeks later...

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #stranger things oneshot #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you

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openheartfanfics · 4 months

Text

Newly Added Fics

May 18 - 24, 2024

Ethan x F!MC

Bear of a Problem - @jerzwriter 📱

Ethan and Kaycee discuss the man vs bear debate.

Miracles - @liaromancewriter ☁

A chance encounter with Ethan brings an expected revelation for Cassie.

Rafael x F!MC

Belle Meets Her New Sister - @rafasgirl23415 📸

In the middle of Raf changing Florence, he puts her down & Belle comes over to see what’s going on.

Mama's Girl - @rafasgirl23415 📸

Raf takes a beautiful photo of Casey giving Florence a kiss before her lunch time nap.

Moving In - @rafasgirl23415 📚

[extended: wip] Follow up to We Belong Together. Set a few years into the future. Feat. Sienna Trinh x M!OC

CH 45: Our Darling Baby Girl

CH 46: In Our Baby Bubble

Our Littlest Loves - @rafasgirl23415 📸

Casey can’t resist taking a photo of Tori with Florence after Tori asks for a cuddle with her baby sister.

Our Perfect Family - @rafasgirl23415 📸

Casey & Raf introduce Florence to her older siblings.

Welcome To The World Our Beautiful Florence - @rafasgirl23415 📸

Casey & Raf announce Florence’s birth a day after she arrives.

Sienna x M!OC

My Boys - @rafasgirl23415 📸

Sienna finds Lucas asleep on the couch with Harry cradled on his chest.

Puppy Play date - @rafasgirl23415 📸

Sienna posts a cute picture that Lucas sends her when he is out walking with Meredith to let her rest.

Tobias x F!MC

A Kiss & A Promise - @jerzwriter ☁

When home is not providing Casey with the solace and reassurance she needs, Tobias comes to the rescue and gets a big surprise. [Domestic; Family]

Grizzly Facts - @jerzwriter 📱

So ... man or bear? Tobias and Casey discuss.

Mostly Pleasant Surprises - @jerzwriter 📚

[mini: wip] It’s been months since the chemical attack. But when a series of events threatens to come between Tobias and Casey, how do they find their way back together?

CH 3: The Best Laid Plans

SUBMIT OPEN HEART FICS & WRITERS HERE

#open heart #open heart fanfics #open heart fanfiction #playchoices #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #rafael aveiro #rafael aveiro x mc #sienna trinh #sienna trinh x oc #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #newly added fics

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temporalbystander · 8 months

Text

Okay so... I'm not much of a theorist. I have watched Game theory for a bit, fell off when we hit the "let's apply realism to videogames" era. Got pissed at the "it's clearly NOT true but let's say it is anyway." Bits when film theory started. And then got dragged back in by the in depth dive he did with FNAF and other lore based games.

But, after some mindless scrolling reminding me of the disappointment of Monty fans (and some urges to write some NSFW Roxy stories...), I decided I'd give this a shot. Spoilers and theory under the cut.

Okay. Let's start at the beginning with Security Breach. We are introduced to Monty through story and context as one of the more aggressive animatronics. In game he lunges large distances, destroys machinery with ease and is most likely the strongest of the threats faced, outside of DJ music man.

Through the messages you can unlock we are told that Monty is Bonnie's replacement, that his claws were upgraded for him to play the bass and that his temper tantrums result in him destroying staff bots and wrecking his room. We are also told that he tends to skip shows to hang out in his own attraction instead. This, combined with Bonnie's last known location being Gator golf, sparked the theory that Monty decommissioned Bonnie. However given the revelation of Ruin saying Bonnie IS in Bonnie bowl, and seems to have been ended there, this is clearly not the case.

Speaking of Ruin. By now he's an animal, completely destroyed as he wanders around the pizza Plex, dragging himself along the ground, and launching himself at anything. He's also, surprisingly, still water proof despite the fact the entirety of his casing is gone. To those that don't like Monty? This was hilarious. To those who do? It was heartbreaking. His sense of self was completely gone. He gets fried by Cassie and that's it. He doesn't even appear in Help Wanted 2.

So what's my take on this? Well, going outside of the games and into the books, Monty didn't get angry until AFTER something called the storyteller was installed. What's the storyteller? As far as this theory is concerned it's the book version of Glitchtrap, or rather the virus making all the animatronics try to kill you. With this being the case, and with what's said in the books matching up with the messages in Security Breach. Monty didn't become rage filled until AFTER he joined the band, after he got his claws upgraded and all this being after Bonnie was decommissioned. Therefore his anger wasn't behind him attacking Bonnie, which he didn't do. So what was it?

Well let's compare him to the other affected animatronics. Chica scoffs down anything even remotely edible, requiring technicians to repeatedly clean out her gears, and Roxy locks herself in her room crying and lashes out verbally insulting anyone who gets in her way. Some have pointed out that these are all ways that someone can respond to grief over loss. However I think it's much simpler than that. These are all coping strategies, not healthy ones but they are.

Chica eats to calm down, Roxy lashes out verbally to hide her own self doubts, and Monty gets mad because at least with anger you can do something, you can attack and vent and feel alive. Hell, music man, sun and moon and even Freddy all have their own coping strategies going. DJ music man cranks the music loud, runs around and throws things. Both sides of the DCA cope by diving into their roles 200%. Sun goes happy and smiling trying to keep kids entertained and safe in one singular place while moon follows his job of making sure nobody stays awake regardless of how he comes across. He doesn't care if you're scared or insulted just go to sleep.

As for Freddy? This is more based on the books but he seems to cope in two ways. One he becomes more childish and two he becomes very protective, in the games he's willing to put himself at risk just to keep Gregory safe. Even the way he talks to Gregory in the games is more childlike then the way the other animatronics talk. The way Roxy talks to Freddy is more adult but even when talking to Vanessa Freddy doesn't seem mature. It's not until you go under the pizza Plex that Freddy seems to get more serious as the memories return to him.

But I've gotten off topic... Or have I? You see, this is a theory on WHY Monty seems to have gotten shafted but to explain that I have to explain what I think they're doing with him and, comparatively, what they're doing with all the other glamrocks. So let's move to Ruin shall we? Because, believe it or not, all the animatronics are STILL following their coping trends.

Chica is devouring food so much she has what remains of her mouth covered in cheese, garbage bags falling out of her stomach and ends up falling onto the cupcake assembly line before getting a forceful reboot and shutting down again. If you decide to reattach her voice box? She sparks up with the only word she says as "pizza!" Before shutting down again. Even her appearances in Help Wanted 2 revolve around her need to eat.

Monty, as I've stated earlier, copes with anger. In Ruin that devolved into a blind rage most likely throwing himself into any situation regardless of what it may do to him, hence why he went from dragging himself along the ground with his full casing, to being basically an endoskeleton lunging and biting at anything. He got tunnel vision and only seeks to destroy.

Prototype Freddy? Could actually be seen as still being childish and protective. When he catches you in Ruin he grabs you and tries to put you in the safety hatch where he has cake, he doesn't think of what might happen or how he appears he just tries to get you safe, unintentionally spearing you on his shattered chest plate in the process. In HW2 Freddy is oh so confident that you can help him because of course Fazbear entertainment would send someone qualified right? While also warning you that there may be some accidents should anything go wrong.

Roxy is where it gets interesting because, when Cassie first comes across her she's still trying to say she's beautiful. That she's special and her minigames in HW2 are all about trying to make her pretty while she gets angry at you for ignoring her and needs her walkie talkie to tell her how amazing she is once she's been shattered. But here's the thing, thanks to Gregory tearing out her eyes she's gotten another unhealthy coping strategy. Vengeance. Her entire demeanor changes and she charges at you full bore when her anger takes over. She's also gotten so confident getting around the pizza Plex that when she hears Gregory's voice she pounces through the double doors at full speed. She has a goal and that goal is getting her eyes back. Even when she eventually catches Cassie (canonically, all the other times you game over don't actually happen after all) she doesn't attack, she demands the return of her eyes and when Cassie gets scared she backs down. She realises she made a mistake and hurt someone she didn't mean to. She apologises. All this to say that, by giving herself a goal, Roxy managed to maintain her sense of self better than Chica and Monty when the orders to hunt Gregory left their system. They were all still suffering the main drawbacks, their coping strategies, but the worse part of the virus was gone. What happened between then and ruin they did to themselves.

So then. After all this. What's my thought on what they're doing with Monty? Why did he get screwed when Chica also suffered from a bad coping strategy that didn't improve? And, most importantly of all, what are they actually coping with?

Well, my thinking is simple. They had Monty cope by anger. They made him the most annoying animatronic to deal with (his glasses stopping you from stunning him, being the only animatronic to have a boss fight outside burntrap and even once dealt with he's still annoying because he's so low he can be missed easily and is ridiculously quick.) They framed him as the attacker of Bonnie and in Ruin they turned him into a rabid dogs there to terrify you until you get the satisfaction of electrocuting him. He was made to be the most hated animatronic through gameplay, story and design. And when he doesn't appear in Help Wanted 2 they wanted you to think "good riddance!"

Why? Because I bet they have a prequel planned for him. Something that shows his connection with Bonnie, his big brother attitude towards the kids on his golf course. Something that would connect him more with the teens. And through it all you're meant to be thinking "I'm watching you. I know what you're like. I know what you're capable of. Be wary Bonnie, he's after your job."

And then it would continue. You'd see his softer side cheering up some kids who just can't get the hang of golf. Scaring of some bullies by roaring at them. Having the time of his life on the solo stage. You'd smile, chuckle. Maybe even go. "Wow Monty? What happened to you? Why couldn't we do things like this with you in Help Wanted?" You'd slowly start to forget Security Breach and Ruin and just enjoy the time with the cool gator.

Then it would happen. There'd be whispers at first as they say Bonnie's gone missing and the shows been put on hold for a while. You'd look at Monty again only to see him worried and confused. Asking the staff what happened to his idol. Monty would be walking over the catwalks trying to remember what happened the last time Bonnie visited. Then he'd be told he'd be Bonnie's replacement. He'd resist, he loves his attraction, but he doesn't have a choice. The kids want to see the band perform after all.

So you'd see him get the upgrades, perform. See him get Bonnie's green room, hear the kids, and everyone else's, disappointment in him. Then you'd see him snap. See him tear down the posters of him and Bonnie before he trashes the rest of the room. See him destroy the staff bots that try to clean up. Then youd see him floating in the water. Twitching and sparking. And you'd say. "Oh god. What have I done?"

I think Monty is a lesson in judgement. That anger always comes from something else. Something deeper. And also that blind rage can turn you into something you aren't if you let it consume you. I think Monty is meant to be a tragic tale of someone who became a villain because he was misjudged until he couldn't take it anymore...

.... Oh. You're still reading? Oh yes. What do I think they are coping with. I did say I'd explain that as well didn't I? Well... Simply put? Being alive. The books have followed a trend of AI trying to become human. I think the glitch made the glamrocks sentient. Sure their AI was sophisticated before but they couldn't feel like they could when the glitch hit. Roxy realised she wasn't the best despite her programming saying she had to be so she was filled with self loathing. Chica was programmed as the fitness expert yet realised she doesn't have any concept of food or being full. Monty awoke feeling judged and got mad because it wasn't his fault. And Freddy? Well Freddy either got possessed by Mike early on and thus was saved by some of the existential crisis. OR his programming designating him the leader saw him recognising his friends having issues and thus he became naive to cope with the fact that everything was still okay and protective to try his best to help.

#text wall #fnaf theory #roxanne wolf #montgomery gator #glamrock chica #glamrock freddy #fnaf security breach #SB theory #help wanted 2 #help wanted spoilers #tales from the pizzaplex

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running-with-the-feels · 18 days

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Tell us about Errons daughter for the AU! We the people need to know!

AHhhhhhhh, fair warning, she's not a super developed oc (which is shocking considering how long I've thought about her)

But basically, her name is Adder (bc Skarlet has bever been normal about anything ever) and she goes by Addie, which most ppl think is short for Adelaide

Addie is a musician, currently attending Julliard on a full ride, so understandably she has no time to spare for "current events" like the revelation that Hell is real and at war with Earthrealm or that gods exist (she got accepted to Julliard after the Netherrealm war but was prepping for it basically all her life)

She can play piano, cello, violin, flute, trombone, and drums with ease and is working on guitar and harp

Addie knew she was adopted, her parents were always open with her about that, but has never felt comfortable trying to look for her birth parents out of the worry that her adoptive parents will take it badly, even tho she's curious. She was raised in the Appalachia area and has a THICK southern accent

Addie is very sarcastic and quick witted, with insults that can make grown men cry, and takes no shit and gives no ground. She is stubborn and confident and knows EXACTLY how good she is at what she does.

She also has terribly hand-eye coordination, so she sucks at darts, archery and sharpshooting

But she has always healed very quickly, due to a latent talent for blood magic that she doesn't know she has

She gets found bc a recital where she performed is posted to youtube and Cassie (who loves new classical music, no she will accept no criticism on this) sees that she and Erron are nearly identical

Erron has a heart attack when he finds out

#Adder Black OC #defection au #mortal kombat 11

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sapphyreopal5 · 10 months

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I've recently started watching Jared Padalecki's show Walker. I just finished the Season 2 Episode 14 titled "No Such Thing As Fair Play". Like this review said, some elements from "Supernatural" were brought aboard in this episode because it is also the episode Jensen Ackles directed. This episode aired on April 14, 2022 which happens to be exactly 80 days before Bevin Prince's husband died on July 3, 2022 (equivalent to 2 months and 19 days). https://www.instagram.com/p/CcVxLtWuO4q/ https://www.instagram.com/p/CcV591cOzgr/?utm_source=ig_embed&ig_rid=42ed91ca-41dd-48ea-baef-84153ad406b1 While watching this episode, as someone who is very interested in writing about divination including tarot readings I noticed the tarot cards Perez pulled while in the psychic's tent/stand (who was noted to be absent during this scene) with Trey. I also am interested in writing about divine blueprints and divine plans, as well as noticing the small "clues" and "hints" about possible outcomes/futures that show up in every day life. They say hindsight is 20/20 but I have written about some hints regarding the aforementioned lawsuit in other posts of mine. I noticed some of them in this particular episode Jensen coincidentally directed and the following episode. The reading had the cards Death, Strength, and The Tower as seen below. The psychic was noticeably not present for this scene and it was Ranger Cassie Perez pulling the cards while talking to Trey some about Micki and other things. They simply talked about things being uncertain and made a toast while saying "to finding answers even when they hurt" and mentioned "different kinds of strength". As someone who is interested in the Tarot and does some readings, I wanted to point out what I've noticed in this reading (and surrounding elements on the table cloth in particular). In the Tarot, Death is numbered 13 and represents endings, change (and possibly resistance to), transformation, transition, and possibly inner purging. Strength in the Tarot is numbered 8 and represents strength (inner and outer), courage, persuasion, influence, compassion, self-doubt, low energy, and raw emotion. Finally, we have The Tower ,which is numbered 16 and represents sudden change, upheaval, chaos, revelation, awakening, personal transformation, fear of change, and possibly averting disaster. The Tower card is the card with the lightning bolt striking the tower and people falling out of it. Many times in the tarot, Death symbolizes more of a metaphorical "death" and following it a "rebirth" or "renewal" of something. Given this is a television show, it's fairly likely these particular cards were used because it's either pointing to a previous death of a character and/or the way things were before (death of Marv, the loss of the Walker Ranch due to Cordell losing the horse race, Trey and Ranger Ramirez breaking up after she returns to San Antonio following the death of her ex fiancée, etc.) or more likely, hinting at a future death that will be quite significant. The Tower and Death cards both point to personal transformation, loss, catastrophe, things of this nature. The Strength card here of course can point to compassion, being strong during tough times, self-doubt, and raw emotion. To be brief, it's fairly likely that this reading in terms of the show's context is pointing to a literal death that will be coming up and will have a disastrous aftermath. Question is who and how?

I am also interested in the fact Jensen directed this episode which aired 80 days before Bevin Prince's husband's death of being struck by lightning on July 3, 2022 while on a boat on the ocean in Myrtle Beach, SC. Looking at the surrounding elements of this Tarot reading in the episode itself, I noticed the cards touch some particularly interesting "elements" on the table cloth and are also near the cards themselves. The Death card happens to be touching the Pisces symbol on the Zodiac wheel on this circular table cloth. Both Jensen Ackles and Danneel Ackles' astrology sign is Pisces with the symbol being essentially two fish tied together by a rope swimming in opposite directions ("Just 2 lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year" [direct quote from the FBBC website under Danneel and Jensen's section on their "The Family" page], meaning Danneel and Jensen who happened to direct this episode of Walker and also were Executive Producers for The Winchesters and who are both Pisces). Both the Strength and The Tower cards are touching Aquarius the Water Bearer on the Zodiac wheel with the symbol being 2 wavy lines thought to represent waves of water (hmmm, perhaps like being on a wavy ocean?) . The Tower card also happens to be touching both The Moon and The Star cards on the Tarot circle on the circular table cloth. The Sun is adjacent to the tarot cards in the reading. I also noticed during the next episode of Walker (season 2 episode 15 "Bygones") where Twyla and Cordell were talking about the past on a bench a song started playing called "Together" by Michigander. At the beginning of this song the lyrics start with: "Well, oh my god, the world is ending Do you still want to meet me for dinner? I feel the thunder, see the lightning And these darker days keep getting dimmer" It seems this song choice playing in the Walker episode following the one Jensen directed with the Tarot reading is quite an interesting "hint" in Jensen's divine blueprints. I did the below tarot reading on 8/2/2023 where both The Star and The Tower appeared, which was exactly 28 days before the lawsuit was filed. It seems to me overall that this Walker episode's tarot reading and surrounding elements did in fact hint to the (back then) upcoming disasters for both Bevin Prince and her husband, as well as Jensen and Danneel... and of course alludes to SOMETHING that happens in the show (DON'T spoil it for me please as I'm currently watching as of today 11/27/2023 at 11:27pm EST ha ha). It turns out that the first hearing for The Winchesters lightning lawsuit is on 01/23/2024 at 09:00 AM in Burbank, CA per this link someone was kind enough to send to me via PM over the weekend. I could not also help but notice the fact this first hearing takes place 3 days after the start of Aquarius "governing". I also could not help but notice that Aquarius is the 11th sign of the Zodiac. I've spoken with multiple people here on Tumblr over the last few months who have pulled The Tower card (depicted with a lightning bolt striking the top of a tower) with relation to Jensen Ackles prior to the lightning lawsuit being filed on 8/30/2023. When I was shown this link over this weekend, I couldn't help but notice the time and date in which the last case update occurred when I had checked (11/19/2023 at 11:18:11 UTC). I've mentioned before in multiple posts including this one why I believe 11 is a warning number for Jensen, not so much a positive one. It seems that perhaps this case being "last updated" at the time and date over this past Thanksgiving weekend AND it being scheduled 3 days into the time Aquarius governs, which is the 11th sign of the Zodiac may be more reasons to add to the list of reasons to support my theory.

I am going to start off this commentary with the following IG post from FBBC's page that was made today 11/28/2023 some time after 4pm EST. I clicked "post" to send off the above post just last night, 11/27/2023 at 11:27pm EST (which effectively became 11:28pm by the time it actually posted). The post image below is of an ad they came up with for bands that will be playing on Friday 12/1/2023 at FBBC. This poster ad from FBBC's post has an image of an ocean with the bands Candlebox, 3 Doors Down and Madam Radar being mentioned. Madam Radar happens to have what appears to be a lightning bolt below it serving as an underline. The caption for this post reads as follows:

"If you haven’t heard yet Riptide Society is an amazing charity that we will be working closely with in the future. If you’re free this Friday 12/01 (and not already enjoying beer in our taproom) come out and support!

We’ll have some of our team at the event and they will be talking about some of the cool stuff we have coming up that we’ve been working on together.

Cheers and we’ll see y’all soon"

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by FamilyBusinessBeerCo (@familybusinessbeerco)

instagram

For visual reference, this is a photo of the Tarot reading I made the above post from last night about.

Reviewing my post from last night quoted above, I mentioned the number 3 in the context of the first hearing for The Winchesters lawsuit with Danneel and Jensen Ackles being named 2 of several defendants being held on January 23, 2023, which is 3 days after Aquarius starts to "govern" from Jan 20 to Feb 18. I also talked about Aquarius being represented by 2 wavy lines indicating water and specifically quoted "Both the Strength and The Tower cards are touching Aquarius the Water Bearer on the Zodiac wheel with the symbol being 2 wavy lines thought to represent waves of water (hmmm, perhaps like being on a wavy ocean?)".

I also talked about Bevin Prince's husband's death occurring exactly 80 days after the Walker episode with this tarot reading aired last year, where he was struck by lightning while on a boat on the ocean in Wrightsville Beach, SC on July 3, 2022. Per the article I linked regarding Bevin Prince's husband: "Prince said she believes there was "divinity" in his passing. "He was 33 years old. It was July 3 and I believe the exact time that the lightning struck was 3:13 p.m. So knowing that all the resources were there to potentially save him, I have to believe that something bigger beyond me was calling him," she said."

#spn family #FBBC #celebrity readings #psychic readings #manifestations #bevin prince #tarot readings #divination #the winchesters lawsuit #Instagram

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strings0fcontrol · 1 year

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Hannigram – Post-Fall (17)

Will seemed to be the narrative's favored character, although that typically didn't bode well for him. Instead of being endowed with plot armor, he found himself burdened with plot trauma. His personal chamber of mental torment, and Miu was his executioner. Wonderful. Attempting to regain his composure, he scanned the surroundings, squinting at the images. Some appeared crisp and clear, while others seemed distorted, fragmented, and a few even appeared to vibrate before his eyes.

What is it that Miu is attempting to convey to him? His gaze roamed the room, and his thoughts labored to unearth an answer. Introspection hung in the air. The answer resided somewhere within these images, but what answer was it? And to what question did it pertain?

Miu surged forward, its graceful and silent steps bringing it closer to the next memory. It stood beside the imagery and turned its gaze toward Will, who trailed after the creature. He cast a cautious glance at it before reaching out to touch the memory, allowing it to play. He heard a brisk, commanding knock at the door, followed by the abrupt intrusion of light into an otherwise dimly lit room. At its radiant epicenter stood Hannibal, his presence commanding attention. The good doctor's lips traced a slow, deliberate path with his tongue upon laying eyes on Graham.

"Good morning, Will. May I come in?" Hannibal's presence at the door left Will in a state of disorientation. Looking back on the moment, it felt as if a vampire had sought permission to cross the threshold into his home.

"Where’s Crawford?" His shadowy image inquired, its searching blue eyes darting about as if seeking a lifeline.

"Deposed in court. The adventure will be yours and mine today," Hannibal responded, a subtle trace of amusement lingering in his countenance. Subsequently, his gaze drifted past Will, seemingly ensnared by an imperceptible barrier, only to snap back to the profiler with expectant intensity. "… May I come in?" Hannibal inquired again. Will, against his better judgment, had granted him wordless entry, ushering him into the intimate realms of his life. Within the next moment, they had transitioned to the table, settling into their seats as Hannibal unveiled his home-cooked meal, a dish that, upon reflection, undoubtedly concealed the sinister secret of human flesh as one of its ingredients.

"I’m very careful about what I put into my body, which means I end up preparing most meals myself. A little protein scramble to start the day. … Some eggs, some sausage."

Sausage, in all likelihood crafted from the remains of Cassie Boyle. Will speared a piece of meat with his fork with less than graceful finesse. He then snapped it between his teeth, his gaze flitting uneasily through the narrow gap between his curtains. As he chewed, his attention appeared to abruptly sharpen.

"Mm, it’s delicious. Thank you." He had anticipated his gag reflex to surge at the recollection of consuming human flesh, yet it remained surprisingly dormant. Now, that piqued his interest. Miu leaned in from behind, prompting Graham to cast a cautious and assessing glance upward. Despite feeling his heart momentarily skip a beat, he managed to maintain his composure and concealed his reaction. He continued to watch as the cat displayed a curiously keen interest in the imaginary meal set upon the plate of his memories. Fascinating, indeed. His inner self, the facet free from the constraints of societal norms, appeared entirely unperturbed by the concept of cannibalism. It regarded it with nonchalance, an absolutely intriguing revelation.

"My pleasure," Hannibal's voice echoed in the background, but Will's focus remained locked on the massive feline, whose eyes seemed to practically salivate at the sight of the meal. At least now, he was certain of the creature's diet: humans.

Though, once more, his countenance remained a steadfast fortress concealing his thoughts and emotions, a curious question lingered in his mind: what if it had seized him at the house? How excruciatingly painful would that divergent fate have been, had destiny charted a different course?

"I would apologize for my analytical ambush, but I know I will soon be apologizing again, and you’ll tire of that eventually, so–I have to consider using apologies sparingly." Hannibal pressed on, effortlessly recapturing everyone's attention.

"Just keep it professional." Will deflected, causing Hannibal's gaze to snap toward his own meal. The fork idly toyed with a morsel of egg. The maneuver had evidently struck a nerve.

"Or we could socialize, like adults," Lecter’s tone quickened, its edges becoming noticeably sharper, albeit with a subtle undercurrent of agitation. Just as swiftly as his irritation had surfaced, he imposed a deliberate pause by placing a forkful of egg into his mouth, his tone subsequently regaining its composure and steadiness. "God forbid we become friendly." ‘God forbid we become friendly.’ Will thought, and another cold realization sent a shiver down his spine. It became abundantly clear that Hannibal had harbored the intention of forging a ‘friendship’ right from the very beginning.

How desperate and yearning Hannibal could become, Will mused inwardly. It vaguely amused him, and he found himself struggling to suppress a sly, knowing smirk that threatened to tug at his lips. Oh, these memories promised to be highly enlightening. Miu was acting as his instructor, imparting the art of deciphering Hannibal's thoughts and actions, effectively arming him with potent ammunition. "I don’t find you that interesting," Will nearly choked, hastily swallowing to speak, his gaze fixed upon the steaming contents of his cup. With his cup positioned as a physical barrier, he sought to ward off Lecter on every conceivable level.

“You will,” Hannibal spoke in soft tones, though in retrospect, his words bore an unsettling semblance to a veiled threat.

Indeed, Hannibal had managed to pique Will's interest in a way he couldn't deny. Congratulations, Dr. Lecter. Will found himself torn between the urge to burst into laughter or succumb to tears, his body trembling as the scene continued. Hannibal lingered for a moment before taking his next forkful of eggs, his gaze fixed firmly on Will, evidently studying him intently.

"Agent Crawford tells me you have a knack for the monsters," Hannibal remarked. As he spoke, Miu shot a nearly judgmental glance in Will's direction. Will met the creature's gaze, his brow furrowing, before he simply shrugged, his lips forming a tight line.

Meanwhile, Graham's shadowy figure set the fork aside and gently slid the plate away, creating space for his arms to cross in another protective barrier. His hands cradled his elbows, employing a self-soothing gesture. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his interest in the conversation now unmistakable.

"I don’t think the Shrike killed that girl in the field," As Will spoke, Hannibal's immediate reaction was to raise his gaze, his curiosity and interest palpably evident. He was undeniably correct about that, an irony in how no one seemed to believe him. Now, Hannibal was thoroughly intrigued. He folded his arms onto the table, drawing closer to Will, mirroring his posture but leaning in much further. His level of interest eclipsed that of Will's.

"The devil is in the details," Lecter spoke, his right index finger ascended, pointing, as his voice gained a subtle but commanding volume and presence. "What didn’t your copycat do to the girl in the field?" His index finger descended, and his tone quickened, tinged with curiosity, as though he were ravenous for a revelation. "What gave it away?"

The devil resided within the details, yes, and those very details lay before him. Hannibal was consumed by curiosity, eager to ascertain if Will could discern his presence concealed within those little subtleties. He yearned to be noticed, to be seen by Will. Graham could sense his breath growing slightly louder, a chorus of emotions swirling within him. Amidst the tumult, one emotion emerged prominently: heat, a simmering fervor that coiled within his lower abdomen. He was undeniably excited. It wasn't a pristine emotion; there was a sinister shadow clinging to it, but he could roughly categorize it as excitement.

See?

"Everything." Will swept his right hand through the air, the gesture emphasizing the scale of his point, but then he anxiously bit his lip and retreated his hand to cover his mouth, absentmindedly stroking his beard—a manifestation of self-soothing behavior. What traversed his mind, clearly unsettled him. Redirecting his hand once more, it suddenly adopted a vivacious and animated demeanor, becoming quite the conversationalist in its own right. "It’s like he had to show me a negative so that I could see the positive." He paused, both hands retreating to rub his face, his demeanor clearly unsettled, profoundly so. It felt as though an unrelenting fire was searing its way through his mind. "That crime scene was practically gift-wrapped." With a gesture reminiscent of someone offering a gift, Will's hands stretched out toward Lecter, who listened with rapt attention.

It was a gift presented to Will, quite literally bestowed upon him by Hannibal. In all fairness, Hannibal had indeed aided Will in obtaining a crystal-clear image of the killer. Simultaneously, this moment was bestowed, as if gift-wrapped by Miu for Will, a deliberate offering intended to unveil something profound. Hannibal recoiled, momentarily appearing as though he had been taken aback, swiftly retracting his left arm from the table. It was as if he had been genuinely unsettled or surprised by the precision with which Will had discerned the image. Awe and caution danced in his eyes. He harbored no fear, yet it was evident that he had registered Will as a conceivable threat.

"The mathematics of human behavior, all those ugly variables." Hannibal paused, smoothed his jacket, then slowly extended his hand back toward the table, his fingers reaching for his fork with cautious grace. "Some bad math with this Shrike fellow, huh?" Will busied himself by pouring another cup, briefly allowing his gaze to flicker toward Lecter. "Are you reconstructing his fantasies?" Hannibal interjected, a subtle note of amusement in the final part of his utterance, one that, upon reflection, bore a more nuanced and possibly suggestive undertone than he had initially realized.

"Heh." An involuntary smirk graced Will's lips, as though the emotion had surged forth with irresistible force. ‘Reconstructing his fantasies,’ indeed. He felt a newfound determination to reconstruct them now, sensing an internal shift. It was gradually dawning on him what Miu intended to convey. The creature was laying out all the puzzle pieces, extending to him a workshop, a sort of playground where he could assemble the mosaic of his thoughts. In an ironic twist, it was granting him precisely what he needed. Will had once declared his disdain for uncertainty, and now, it was offering him the tools to craft clarity. Within the fortress lay a forge, and Miu, with a generous spirit, provided him the iron needed to craft his own sword. "What kind of problems does he have?" Hannibal asked. Graham squinted at the shadow, inhaling sharply. It was evident that Hannibal was probing, attempting to discern what Will perceived within him.

"Uh, he has a few," Will replied with a subtle tilt of his head, the wide-eyed, slightly startled look in his eyes suggesting that he might have been wary of delving too deeply into the implications of that statement. Will took a measured sip from his cup, and Hannibal's gaze, in response, retreated, snapping back to the eggs as if he were nursing some internal disappointment or frustration over the statement. It hinted at a vulnerability, and perhaps even a trace of insult, lurking beneath the surface. Did Hannibal genuinely possess the audacity to expect a compliment when posing such a question? Without a doubt, yes.

"You ever have any problems, Will?" Hannibal retorted, and only then did he permit his gaze to reconnect, leaning ever so slightly forward. Graham squinted once more, his head tilting as he contemplated the scene. The shift in tone and the transition from a straightforward question left him wondering if he had wounded Hannibal in some way. Of course, he had. He couldn't help but acknowledge the pettiness; naturally, Hannibal felt a surge of anger for not receiving what he desired. Hannibal Lecter had a multitude of issues, but there was one undeniable trait everyone could concur on: he was a petty and horny little whore. And that's precisely what led to his apprehension. In the background, the cup that Will had been holding met the table with a gentle thud.

"No," Will retorted with a sardonic smile, lifting the cup back to his lips.

"Of course you don’t," Hannibal's voice started in a low register before gradually adopting a louder, more authoritative tone once more. Yet, it carried a mocking undercurrent, concealed beneath the surface layers. "You and I are just alike, … problem-free ," he emphasized that particular part with precision, almost leaning in as he delivered it, before abruptly retracting his gaze and his proximity from Will and redirecting his focus to his meal. "Nothing about us to feel horrible about." Lecter paused, observing as Will took another forkful of the meal, a glint of satisfaction dancing in his eyes, as if he relished knowing the truth of what Will was consuming. It was evident he was contemplating how best to respond to the stinging gesture in kind. "You know, Will?" He paused again, then leaned in, "I think Uncle Jack sees you as a fragile little teacup. The finest China, used for only special guests." Ah, there he was, pressing Will's buttons, his actions almost akin to a seductive dance, asserting control over the situation. He provoked Graham. The imagery Hannibal had planted in his mind painted a picture of Jack treating him like a delicate, fragile teacup, requiring special care. This notion brewed a storm of emotions within Will—disgust, anger, and an inexplicable urge to choke Hannibal, right before his eyes. It was an impulse that surfaced suddenly, leaving him bewildered. Before he could make sense of it all, the haunting echoes of his own tormented laughter filled the room, and his eyes shifted to his own shadow. Will had reclined in his seat, gently stroking his beard, all the while Hannibal wore a smug smirk aimed squarely at him.

"How do you see me?" Will inquired, and an abrupt silence pervaded the space, with Hannibal's countenance taking on a significantly more intense expression. Light and shadow played upon his countenance, with nearly equal distribution gracing only one side of his face—a visage akin to a devil kissed by the touch of light.

"The mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by." Hannibal spoke with a composed tone, but his enchanting eyes revealed a subtle vulnerability—a slight twitch of his lids, a determined effort to maintain his composure. That little flicker of black, a blur of motion against the captivating interplay of browns, grays, and greens swirling within his irises. He fought to resist blinking, to maintain a steadfast gaze directly ahead, and in doing so, he unwittingly revealed the truth. The snakes, a reference to the FBI.

Will's smile quivered, teetering on the brink of being maintained, only to ultimately fade away, replaced by a crease between his brows. With his reclined posture and limbs resting on the armrests, Graham appeared as though he had been utterly defeated, akin to a man sitting in a chair awaiting execution. In stark contrast, Hannibal sat ramrod straight, a fork clutched in his right hand, his left hand carefully guarding his meal, and a radiant smile gracing his lips. Lecter had taken firm control of the situation, and Will had just been served his metaphorical Henkersmahlzeit.

"Finish your breakfast," Hannibal commanded, his demeanor almost cheerfully focused on his meal. It felt like a command given to a dog, and Will sensed his anger simmering just beneath the surface. His breath became slow and heavy, and as the scene paused, it started to transition to the moment they were seated in the car. Graham stood outside in the parking space, patiently awaiting the arrival of the car. The window on his side was rolled down, affording him a clear view of the unfolding conversation.

"What are you smiling at?" Will asked as he caught Hannibal’s amusement. Lecter appeared subtly taken aback by Will's astute observation, as if he had momentarily faltered—a rarity considering his usual penchant for toying with other FBI agents. Yet, in a swift pivot, he recognized the depth of Will's observation and regretted his lapse in caution. He was selecting his words with utmost care and precision.

"Peeking behind the curtain. I’m just curious how the FBI goes about its business when it’s not kicking in doors." Hannibal responded with satisfaction evident in his demeanor. Of course, he was pleased, for he was truly peering behind the curtains, gaining valuable insights on how to evade capture. In essence, he held a backstage pass to the unfolding drama.

"You’re lucky we’re not doing house-to-house interviews," Will seized the opportunity to inject a bit of sass, although his tone quickly settled into a more serious demeanor. "We found a little piece of metal in Elise Nichols’ clothes, a shred from a pipe threader." Hannibal found himself both intrigued and cautious in equal measure.

"There must be hundreds of construction sites all over Minnesota." And now he was probing for specifics. Details on how they narrowed down their search.

"A certain kind of metal, certain kind of pipe, certain kind of pipe coating, so we’re checking all the construction sites that use that kind of pipe." Will, thoroughly exasperated by Lecter's presence and desperately wanting him to be silent, effectively handed over that information on a silver platter.

"What are we looking for?" Hannibal leaned in with a cheeky demeanor, posing yet another probing question in his quest for additional information.

"At this stage, anything, really. But mostly, anything peculiar," Will spoke, adamantly avoiding eye contact with Lecter until the very last moment. He practically bolted from the car, eager to escape both the onslaught of further questions and the company of the persistently sociable creature beside him.

Hannibal appeared genuinely amused by the situation. This piqued Will's interest; after all, he had exited the car, making it impossible for him to have caught a glimpse of Hannibal's expression. How, precisely, had these events been etched into his memories, and how could they retain such an extraordinarily vivid level of detail? So thoroughly engrossed in observing and mentally dissecting the scene, Will had remained oblivious to Miu's whereabouts and actions. He scanned his surroundings, searching for the demon, but at some indiscernible moment, it had simply vanished, leaving him completely clueless as to when it had slipped away. It was a puzzle without a readily apparent solution. Intrigued, he resolved to shadow Hannibal's every move.

As they entered, delving into the files, Will couldn't help but feel increasingly exasperated. The more he observed, the stronger the urge grew to facepalm and yank out his own hair in frustration. He had been right there, beside him the entire time, peering over his shoulder.

Hannibal had keenly observed as Will singled out Garret Jacob Hobbs by analyzing the resignation letters. Will had gone so far as to inquire about the existence of a daughter, offering an uncannily precise description that would later match Abigail. Moreover, he had openly shared his observations about what he found peculiar in the letter, unwittingly furnishing Hannibal with even more valuable information. And even before Will grasped it, Hannibal possessed all the necessary tools to make that fateful call. He had unwittingly handed him the metaphorical axe to execute Abigail with. Had he found himself in the company of anyone other than Hannibal, had it just been Jack that day, Abigail might still have stood a chance of being alive. Hannibal had placed unwavering faith in Will's deduction, believing him without a shadow of doubt. This belief weighed on Will's conscience, causing an overwhelming desire to vanish into a void where nothing could touch him.

The incident with the files slipping and falling was no accident either; it was precisely when Hannibal had placed that accursed call—the call that had left Abigail orphaned. If only Will had instructed Hannibal to descend and deal with his wretched mess instead of obediently plunging into the mire himself, perhaps there wouldn't have been enough time for that ill-fated call to be made.

If just one of his choices had diverged on that fateful day—had he not allowed Hannibal in, not permitted his company, not responded to his inquiries, not granted him that solitary moment with the phone—Abigail might have been spared. This realization churned within his stomach like a corrosive, seething acid.

His throat seared with a burning sensation, and his internal turmoil vibrated within him, as the surrounding sounds dissolved into an indistinct cacophony, akin to a painting of blurred colors collapsing in on themselves. Will had to withdraw, his composure crumbling beneath the weight of the memories. The scene came to a halt, and he had to regain control of his breath. Overwhelmed didn't begin to describe it. It felt as though he were not only reliving those moments but also observing himself as a detached spectator, and he found it nearly unbearable.

He found himself unable to speak, resorting instead to the physical release of his mounting frustration through vigorous rubbing and clawing at his own skin. He searched for an outlet—something to kick or hurl in a fit of anger.

Will found himself powerless to alter the situation. The emotions felt like fragments displaced in time, remnants of unprocessed feelings he had never allowed to surface. His gaze shifted to the creature. Mirroring the way he had denied Miu the space to truly exist.

However, amid his observations of the entity, one intriguing detail seized his attention, momentarily arresting his thoughts and redirecting them onto an entirely different course: a subtle inner glow emanating from its belly, as if it had consumed flames. Will's mouth fell agape, his scrutiny intensifying, his head tilting slightly. One eye narrowed, while the opposite eyebrow arched. The thought was barely taking shape, but it lingered there, just within his grasp. Could Miu be consuming emotions? As it drew nearer, Will's instinctual urge to retreat surged, but he found himself immobilized by fear as it reached out and leaned over him. Paralyzed, he acquiesced as it seized both of his upper arms with a grip as unyielding as stone cuffs. He could do nothing but watch as its colossal jaw opened, seemingly splitting its visage horizontally, revealing the true extent of its vast mouth, threatening to sever his head from his shoulders. However, this was not the creature's intention. The grip was formidable, and he sensed himself rendered immobile by the sheer presence of it, yet it did not inflict pain or constrict him; rather, it held him in a firm but gentle embrace.

He peered down its cavernous throat, witnessing muscular seals parting and a screeching suction that seemed poised to pull him inside. It was absorbing his emotions, voraciously devouring them, extracting the feelings directly from his mouth without ever making contact with his lips. It was as if it was feasting on his very soul, drawing the anger out of his chest and providing him with emotional relief. He observed the petite wisps of energy, painted in hues of orange and red, a sight akin to magic, yet searing like molten magma. They vanished down its throat, as though it were spewing fire in reverse. He sensed the scorching heat, tasted the corrosiveness, and experienced the biting sting of the emotion on his tongue, like the sensation of acid. He fixed his gaze upon the teeth, reminiscent of an anglerfish's but neatly arrayed in two rows, evoking the precision of a shark's dental layout. What struck him most was their remarkable mobility. Each tooth was tethered to a sinewy muscle strand that vanished beneath the sharp tongue. It gradually dawned on Will that these teeth possessed the ability to rotate, akin to the serrated blade of a chainsaw. They could vibrate and twist like hooks, displaying the capacity to employ them individually, with conscious intent, and a degree of creativity. Shit. Fuck. Help. Inching closer, far too close, he could smell blood. His widened eyes mirrored Death's gaping maw poised directly overhead. A mere few millimeters separated him from laying his head to rest within that ominous abyss. A mere sneeze or cough from it, and he'd be gone in an instant.

Yet, Miu's sole focus appeared to be the extraction of emotion. Its teeth remained stationary, and Will might have succumbed to fainting if not for the burning curiosity about what those teeth looked like and what they were capable of when set in motion. He yearned to understand, and it was this inquisitiveness that maintained the steady rhythm of his beating heart.

Despite the nightmarish spectacle unfolding before him, Graham felt an eerie sense of calm gradually enveloping him as it continued to draw from his emotions. The more it extracted, the more his internal landscape seemed to stabilize. It was as if it had patiently waited until his emotions were ripe for harvesting, tending to them like a vintner cultivating grapes for a fine wine—nurturing, feeding, provoking, and cultivating in its own unique way.

That.

He took a deep breath, attempting to wrestle the realization into a coherent thought.

That was the motive. Its motive wasn't sexual; it was far more sinister, calculated, and grotesque in design. It drew sustenance from emotions, particularly negative ones—anger, fear, disgust. That was what kept it going.

Not a psychopath. Something even more chilling. As Miu retreated, Will's mind went blank. He fixated on the ground, eyes widened, attempting to assemble the fragments of what he had just experienced. He felt revitalized, his thoughts astonishingly clear, but that newfound clarity was equally unsettling. It was as if it had surgically extracted the burning energy within him, leaving him to contemplate the depths of its own capacity for malevolence. It was undeniably attempting to convey something, yet simultaneously reaping its own benefits from the exchange. That level of calculation had blindsided him, taking him entirely by surprise. Will was not easily caught off guard; he usually had an innate ability to sense danger, even if he couldn't precisely identify its nature. But this, he hadn't anticipated in the slightest. His gaze lifted, fixating on the creature, and he observed the smug curl of its lips as its hands slowly ascended, gripping the collar and exerting force. The metal began to creak, even deform, but its strength hadn't yet reached the point of snapping it. This wasn't ordinary metal; it was far denser and heavier, capable of supporting several tons of weight, based on his observations. That single piece alone could be likened to an anchor capable of dragging an entire ship to the ocean's depths. The fact that the creature could deform it only heightened his unease. It was steadily gaining strength by absorbing his negative emotions. Will's mind grasped onto this realization and expanded upon it. If he continued to feed it, the collar would eventually give way, and the creature would likely manifest even more terrifying abilities. He couldn't tear his eyes away; they remained fixed on the restraint. Did he want to keep feeding it? Did he want to witness the consequences of that collar coming off? Could it spell his demise? Most likely. Yet, curiosity gnawed at him, urging him to discover what would transpire.

In a chillingly explicit manner, it had demonstrated how he could liberate it and the extent to which they would become interdependent. The question that loomed was whether either side could be trusted. Was betrayal a viable option? It intended to employ and inflict harm upon him in pursuit of its own liberation, yet paradoxically, it appeared to be guiding and nurturing him in an uncanny fusion of motives. A peculiar amalgamation indeed, one that bore unsettling similarities to a certain psychiatrist. The smugness etched across its expression conveyed the message clearly to Will. It was, in a peculiar way, extending an offer, a deal of sorts. Graham narrowed his eyes, recognizing it as an undeniable pact with the devil. Yet, in this moment, the devil seemed to be his most pragmatic choice.

He couldn't predict its next move, couldn't discern its exact intentions. Even with a literal collar around its neck, it wielded absolute control over the situation. It had succeeded in dismantling his façade initially. He still harbored fear, indeed, but it no longer dominated him as it once had. Over time, he had become skilled at feigning fear to a greater extent than he genuinely experienced it, recognizing that this made people consistently underestimate him. In a similar vein, Miu seemed to share this trait, revealing only the information it chose to disclose, typically those details that served its best interests. However, it proved to be remarkably perceptive, concealing even more than he had initially anticipated.

He had prodded at Hell's gates, and the devil himself had emerged for a game.

This, he could only liken to The Morningstar.

So remarkably cunning, he found himself nearly in awe, unable to summon hatred for it. In its sinister manner, it had managed to impress him, instilling bone-deep terror, yet evoking a sense of admiration as well. It had never uttered a falsehood, yet it had expertly manipulated him. Deception through the truth, now that was a mastery.

He pondered whether he could glean something from it. If it continued to provide him with such valuable ammunition, what would be the eventual outcome? It had already seduced him with his own curiosity. Without uttering a single word, it had showcased intelligence surpassing anything he had encountered. Oh, how Hannibal would relish this creature. He now held a precise understanding of what Miu was. Certainty, typically a comforting notion, had morphed into something quite terrifying. Its lips parted gradually, revealing a grin reminiscent of the Cheshire cat, proudly displaying its numerous sharp teeth in all their horrifying glory. Will mirrored the smile, his lips curling to reveal his teeth in a sinister display of glee. At the very least, things were taking an interesting turn. Engaging in direct confrontation held far more excitement than languishing on a desolate island with just a thread of communication. He had discovered a counterpart in his own darkness, erasing the need to hide or feign innocence. Two predators now faced each other, mutually acknowledging the game they were about to play. This promised to be a compelling training exercise, indeed.

If he relinquished control over his emotions, it would feed off him. Feeding off him would replenish its strength. Consequently, the collar would be removed. If the collar came off, it would have no further use for him. Therefore, the imperative remained: don't feed the demon. But maintain the illusion that you will, thus dissuading it from turning your intestines into a salad. He had already assigned it a name, but he couldn't afford to become attached. After all, it was probably the very thing that kept him confined in this place. The situation couldn't be any less pressure-filled, he mused with a hint of sarcasm. How great that he had honed the skill of feeling emotionally dead inside while being sassy about it. A game of chess with the devil incarnate—how could he possibly decline such an irresistible proposition? The Morningstar, bored as ever, found no greater amusement than flamboyantly annoying someone with its wit.

And Will, acutely aware of the glaring red flag, lingered to witness just how intensely crimson it could become.

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