#mk fic

You were sweating, tossing and turning every few moments and hardly able to sit still for even a moment; heat coursed through your veins as you tried everything from burying your face into the pillow through to stripping the bed of everything except a thin duvet cover to use as a blanket.

None of it worked.

You were at your very wit's end, and could not think of anything else, except the icy Grandmaster sleeping in the room next to yours; he always ran cold to the touch, and you knew that he would grumble and complain but let you get into the bed anyway.

He never liked to be soft or to show you that he valued your friendship, but even though he would grumble out complaints and scowl at you, he would still move over if you asked, and he would still let you cuddle into his side if you flashed him the puppy dog eyes.

So, with careful and quiet steps, you left your room, and checked the hallway to ensure that Tomas and Kuai Liang weren't awake, and crept into the room to your right; immediately, Bi-Han shot up in bed, his hair messy as he glared at you, waited for you to close the door, and huffed.

"What do you want?"

You smiled a little at the usual snarling growl in his voice, and cleared your throat. "Nothing, I just couldn't sleep because it's too hot... and... y'know. Usually, when I can't sleep, I come here."

He sank back down into the bed, grumbling as he moved over. "And you couldn't deal with it yourself?"

"Not really," you muttered, carefully slipping into the bed and snuggling into his side. The relief made all the complaints he could say worth it. "You're so fucking cold."

"I thought that's why you came here," Bi-Han growled, rolling his eyes. "Or is it now too cold?"

"It's actually just right," you hummed softly, pressing your face to the side of his neck and sighing with contentment. "It always is..."

He scowled, his lips turned into a frown, but he still put his arm around you to keep you close; ice radiated from him and caused a shiver to run down your back as you pressed yourself closer, unaware of the soft, dull, pink on the tips of his ears.

He said nothing, and tried to swallow it down for the sake of his own pride; he could never stoop so low as to entertain the thought of courting a man who was not even Lin Kuei. It was beneath him, it went against every single principal that he held dear and it... it was difficult to keep his head right.

For all of his many thoughts that he would never dream of admitting, Bi-Han did feel for you more than he would ever admit to; he often ensured that, whenever you hung around, there were those drinks you liked, and there were those stupid gory films he hated that you loved ready to go in your room.

He remembered the little things, like how you took your coffee and how you often paused to look at the yellow daffodils that grew by the gardens. He made sure to keep them around just for you.

He even knew that you liked to press your face to his neck, and often went without a shirt when he knew that you were staying over, just in case you couldn't sleep.

He hated that he knew those things. He hated that he would be so soft with you when he should have told you to get lost and deal with your sleeplessness yourself and find some other way of cooling off that didn't involve him.

But just like white winged doves sang, Bi-Han found himself having fallen for you, and he despised it endlessly and hated himself for it more than he would dare to admit even to himself. His brothers might not have fully embraced the principals of the Lin Kuei, and his brothers might have been content to settle down with a man like you, a man beneath themselves, but he was not them.

Even still, when you pressed yourself closer to him, your breath soft and steady against the sensitive skin of his neck, he did crack a small smile.

"I wouldn't mind being your boyfriend," you mumbled suddenly, half asleep and completely by accident, and he froze. "Even just for an excuse to be like this every night."

Bi-Han scoffed, but didn't say a word as he waited for you to fall asleep fully, knowing that he could whisper it into the shadows and they would keep it a secret for him so he would never be forced to admit it to himself or anyone else in the world.

With a violence that started intimately at the center of your chest, you felt as if you were being yanked out of your bed. Sweat, once slick and warm, had effectively dried to most parts of your quaking body. Still shaking fiercely, you managed to push off your duvet and scampered to the kitchen for a glass of water. 

Dazed from waking so harshly, you reached into one of the kitchen cabinets for a cup decorated with constellations–a birthday gift when you were still small and effortlessly impressionable. Though, when you thought about it, in the here-and-now you were faring much the same. The mere insinuation of discomfort, suffering, or danger and your heart would startle like a dove to flight. 

And there was simply so much to fear nowadays. 

Glancing over at the oven clock, the hour declared itself in a dull, neon hue: 3:15 AM

Perfect. Only two more hours roughly until your actual alarm would sound off leaving you a very structured amount of time to go for a run, come home, shower, eat breakfast and take the bus to your job at the library until eight with only a paltry hour lunch to break up the day. All of that followed by classes online…

Half of you wanted to simply stay home and risk losing that job. Not to relax of course. 

In your fathers’ absence, the apartment had become rather cluttered. Between the three of them, books were askew all over the floor, boxes of artifacts stacked haphazardly on top of one another, and so much dust and debris on the ground that you could feel it through your socks. 

Marc had promised to help with the cleaning after they returned from Egypt, but that had been almost three months ago, and none of them were answering their phone.

It was just you, the messy apartment, your job and the burdens of the world left to rest on your weary shoulders. 

Against your own control you let out a stifled croak before feeling warm tears freefall down your face. If you could have sunk through the floor, through the foundation of the apartment building and into the warmth of the earth, you might have welcomed it. 

Instead, you pressed your face into your waiting hands and sobbed loud enough for only the family goldfish to hear. The long working hours, the meager pay, the bills that effortlessly burned through each bi-weekly paycheck, the news–incessant and increasingly fraught with brutality and death. You cried quietly for your life–the carousel of grief you could not step off of for even a moment of respite. 

And then your name. 

Called so quietly, you could have imagined it. But upon picking up your head, you could see Jake standing only a few feet away. At first you peered at him, wondering if the lack of sleep and the surplus of anxiety was manifesting by way of hallucinations. 

“Shit.”

You could have sworn he looked ill, but perhaps that was due to the blue light from Gus II’s fishtank. 

“Look, we’re sorry,” he started, his hands already laid out in recompense, “we should have called, should have texted, and come home like we said–”

Moving on instinct alone, you scrambled out of your chair and sized their travel bag before bolting from the kitchen and toward your room. 

“What the hell are you doing??” Marc’s panicked voice followed you close behind. “We’re sorry! Just–give that back!” 

It was wholly and utterly foolish, but you believed with your whole heart that if you chucked their bag off the balcony, they wouldn’t be able to leave again, at least for a while anyways. “No!!”

“You’re over-exhausted!” Faster than you, Marc grasped you around your shoulders and pulled you back from the sliding door that led to the balcony. 

He could feel the way you trembled and recognized it immediately. He would bet every cent of theirs that you hadn’t slept properly in weeks, and more than likely had reverted back to one of your regrettable habits–subsisting off of dry cereal and Red Bull. Thank the gods, you gave up almost immediately, dropping their bag and yielding to Marc’s embrace. 

“Jesus, kid…” He breathed before settling on the plush chair next to your bed.

Your choked cries faded into a weary silence. Marc, with one hand, reached for a tissue with which to clean away your tears. 

“I take it you missed us.” 

His attempt at humor had you huffing in reply. “You’re a liar. All of you. ‘We’ll be back soon’, you said. Does "soon” mean three months??”

“No…we…things didn’t go as planned.”

Briefly looking them over, you could see the bulk under their clothes. Underneath there was likely a trove of new, bandaged wounds that would require daily care. 

“Did you almost die?”

“Ah…you could call it that.” There was no use in lying to you; they all knew as much. “That’s why we didn’t call, it's why we didn’t come home right away. There was no way to get out of the country while we were compromised.”

Since you became aware of the nature of their work, you had learned not to press for details besides what you absolutely had to know. There was only so much you could handle before descending into a void of worry and complete confusion. It was easier to imagine them as anything other than the right hand of an Egyptian deity. Perhaps a travel writer, or even an actor travelling all across time zones…

“Layla was there. And Khonshu, he protects us when we get in over our head.” Steven suddenly offered, having noticed your impending bout of despair. “But we are sorry.”

“You said that already. And for the record I’m still pissed.” It sounded pathetic when contrasted with the veiled nature of their work.

“Well, for the record, we can also tell.” Steven gave you a gentle squeeze as if the extra pressure would dispel your frustration. “But we promise to make it up to you.” 

“I…” you sighed, trying to parse through your thoughts before speaking again. “I don’t need you guys to make it up to me. I just want you to be home. Trying to keep this all together, it was like pitching water in a sinking ship! Every day I wondered if–if I was just going in circles for no reason at all because you might actually have been killed!”

“That’s not–”

“It's happened before.” You muttered lowly before feeling Steven tense just slightly. 

He could feel the urge to bite back with his wordsThis was more than you could ever understand, more than you would allow yourself to understand and here you were bickering with him as if you were once again ten and determined to ignore your bedtime. But this was not the verbal defiance of a blubbering brat. This was their child, grown enough to worry for their wellbeing, old enough to manage their material affairs in their regrettable absence. 

“We’re sorry.” Was all Steven could offer for a third time. 

There were no guarantees in their life. Their next otherworldly endeavor could thrust them towards the precipice of some ancient peril with only the fealty of a moon deity to ensure their safety. Still holding you, Steven could feel your heartbeat, sure and frenetic. 

“Things have calmed down some…” Steven’s words were partially true. “We’ll all be around for a bit longer so you can focus on classes. That sounds good, yeah?”

He was steering clear of anything reminiscent of a promise. With a quiet sigh, you buried your face against their shoulder, allowing yourself to believe in a moment’s peace. 

“Yeah, that sounds good. Just…stay. For a few weeks. Nothing less.”

You stirred to the feeling of warm breath on your collarbones, neck cricked from sleeping on the couch. You groaned softly, opening your eyes against the morning sunlight, greeted with a sleeping Steven, nestled up on your chest. Being light sleepers, it didn't take long before Steven woke up, your hand in his curls, breathing quietly in the cozy apartment. It seemed the two of you had fallen asleep on the couch after watching some Ancient Egyptian documentary. Marc had been co-con for a while, at least while the gods he knew were involved, but he'd been long gone. Jake? Nowhere to be found. Or just quiet.

"Mmn..." Steven hummed, resting his face in the crook of your neck, hugging your side. You giggled softly, feeling his stubble against your skin, wrapping your arms around his neck. "G'mornin' love..." He mumbled into your skin, eyelids fluttered shut, hand around your waist. You smiled, nestling your face in Steven's hair, kissing the crown of his head, gentle and sweet. "Good morning, Steven."

The two of you stayed like that, legs tangled, hands gently caressing one another, the sound of birds outside coming through the window. You sighed softly. Slow weekend mornings like these were always nice. Khonshu leaving the guys alone, at least for a little while, experiencing peace and quiet.

"We should get up and eat soon." You mumbled, face still in Steven's hair. He groaned softly, shaking his head. "I know... but a lit'le longer couldn't hurt, right?" You nodded with a small chuckle, gently rubbing your hands up and down Steven's back. "I didn't say right now. But yes, we can stay cuddled up for a bit longer." You felt Steven melt under your hands, more than he had already. It made you smile, knowing how comfortable you made Steven and the guys. It made you very aware of how much they trusted you, how much they valued you. And it made you feel nice. They held a spot in your heart, just as much as they held spots in their hearts for you.

You tilted your head to the side, fixing the soft cushion beneath your head, watching your partner as he relaxed. You appreciated every detail, the way his chest expanded with every breath, his pretty eyelashes, his nose, the way his curls framed his face. You loved it all, cherished it all. You pressed a gentle kiss to Steven's forehead, smiling as he playfully scrunched his face in response.

"You're so cute..."

"I'm not cute, you are."

"Nah, you're way cuter."

"Can we agree that you both are cute and eat breakfast?" Marc spoke up, sounding a bit done with your little banter. It made you crack up, your shoulders shaking as you stifled your laughter.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, grumpy." You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Good morning to you too, Marc. And Jake if you're listening."

"He always is." Steven said after a moment, coming back to full consciousness. "...We really should eat breakfast. I can hear your stomach gurgling."

"Maybe." He wasn't wrong on that front. You were hungry. And you'd be damned if you didn't wanna get up and eat. But... the couch cushions and the cuddles were so cozy... You wanted to get up and stay put simultaneously. Conflicting feelings. "What're we feeling for breakfast, anyways? I think we still have those vegan sausages in the freezer, pretty sure we have pancake mix, cereal, fruits, oatmeal... Lots of options."

Steven watched as you rambled, supposedly finding the whole thing adorable, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. "Hmm, sausage and pancakes sounds nice... Cut up some strawberries if we have 'em..." His voice was still gravelly from sleep, thinking about food with you was nice. He gently pressed kisses to your jawline and chin, loving and soft with every touch.

"Mmnh...." You smiled, tilting your head back into the armrest, allowing Steven more access to your neck.

"Five more minutes?"

"Of course, Steven."

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masterlist/intro

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i love fluffs (short n sweet <3)

hope you enjoyed!

He felt it, the freezing rain, seep through his clothes and onto his back, and it seemed to chill him to the bone, and he felt himself shake, but he kept on- on his hands and knees, slowly crawling toward Raiden who lay still in the dirt. Was it delusion that made Lao think that Raiden was still alive? His body was frozen like a staute and probably cold like one, too, but Lao kept on- because of course, the great Kung Lao could breathe him back to life, of course, this had to be a cruel game- but no, it was just the terrible truth he had happened upon.

First, Lao took Raiden's cold hand, then brought himself next to him, and looked down at him. He searched his face for any movement, even the most subtle. He brought his other hand over Raiden's cheek, and the man's eyes fluttered open. Raiden's gaze immediately met Lao's.

"You have to leave," said Raiden, and he coughed, he choked.

Lao whispered, "what?"

"You..."

Raiden's words were just a breath. No louder than the wind, but drowned out by the pitter-patter of the rain.

He stared up at Lao, dazed, and his lips quivered slightly. 

"You have to live," he said.

And for some reason, Lao shook his head. At first, as just a response, but then he did it again, on purpose this time, as devastation set in- and Raiden could see it on his face. 

"No," Lao said, "No, Raiden-"

Raiden reached for Lao's shirt, reached to just hold him again, but then he let out another breath and he was gone. His arm fell back and he lay unmoving again.

"Raiden," Lao whispered. He held his face in his hands, rubbing his cheeks. Then he shook him by the shoulders.

"Raiden!"

He shook him again, but rougher. "Raiden, come on-"

Tears stung his eyes and his chest felt heavy, but no, this couldn't be it, this couldn't be the truth, Raiden had to just be playing some game, right?

"Raiden, wake up. Come on."

Lao realized he was holding his breath and involuntarily heaved- then let out a sound that was a cross between a groan and a cry, trying not to let those tears fall. He sounded angry for a few seconds until he just broke down and started screaming.

He started screaming. For someone, anyone. For Raiden. For Lord Liu Kang. For Johnny. For Kenshi. Oh, but what would they do? Kung Lao couldn't think straight, instead he wanted to turn back the clock. Why did it have to be Raiden? Why did Raiden jump in front of him in the first place? Why couldn't Raiden just let Kung Lao die?

He kicked and screamed and sobbed like a child until his throat was raw and sore. Slowly, he peered up at the dark sky, pure tragedy on his wet face.

Raiden's last words, his last I love you, replayed over and over and over...

At the end, he couldn't breathe, but he accepted the terrible truth.

The demi-god decides to leave it at that, for now, not wanting to further surprise you and possibly drive you away by revealing his role as one of Earthrealm's divine protectors and god of the wind.

"So Fujin, you caught me at a bit of a bad time,"

"And why is that?"

Fujin gently asks. You look around at anything but the newcomer, while running your fingers along your bow.

"Well, I'm supposed to be composing a song. I have the notes but I don't quite have all the words."

"If it helps, your singing is very beautiful."

"Oh uhhh, thank you."

You blush as you start to absentmindedly pluck a few notes of your fiddle. Fujin is now just a few feet away from you, close but with respectable distance between you.

"I would like to listen to more of your work, if you'll allow it."

"Sure! Uh- I mean- I mean, sure. That would be wonderful. I could use a muse anyways."

You then stand up on your feet, realizing how you're only just slightly taller than Fujin with the platform beneath you. You dust yourself off, you then hop onto a higher boulder. After making a few adjustments with your fiddle's strings, you start to sing.

Fujin was fortunate enough to snatch snippets of your singing while he was riding the winds, but those pale in comparison to hearing you right in front of him. Your voice is strong and proud. It is ethereal and eerie. It is as if listening to the Elder gods sing themselves.

When you start to play your fiddle for the musical segment of your song, you jump down from your boulder to start skipping around the clearing. You almost appear to be floating on air, and actually do at one point, but you hardly notice as you're too engulfed by the music. Around you and Fujin, the wind starts to blow and picking up the fallen leaves, filling the clearing with a myriad of warm colors.

"I am the Voice of the past that will always be filled with my sorrows and blood in my fields!

I am the Voice of the future! Bring me your peace... Bring me your peace and my wounds... They will heal."

Throughout your mini concert, Fujin's gaze never wavered from your form as if trying to commit every move and gesture to memory. As you paint a rhapsody with your body but write a requiem with your song. At last, it comes to a stop and so the Demi-god does the only thing he could think to do and claps.

You give a beaming smile at Fujin before taking a pantomime bow.

"Thank you, thanks for being such a great audience and muse."

You then blow him a kiss, which Fujin playfully pretends to grab before stuffing it in his pocket.

For a while afterward, you and Fujin sat together on a warm day, discussing anything and everything that came to mind, including hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Fujin reciprocated, to the best of his abilities, without outright telling you his divine nature, as he told you about his brother and travels. You weren't typically one for conversation, but something about the odd stranger made you feel at ease as if you knew him forever rather than for a few hours. Unfortunately, your time with Fujin was cut at the sound of a ringing bell calling you away, which you found yourself reluctant to answer. Your new friend notices this and gives you an encouraging smile.

"Go, your audience awaits."

"B-b-but they're not you. What if they don't like the song? What if I get up on stage and mess everything up? What if-"

Fujin rests a hand on your shoulder, while giving you an encouraging smile.

"You'll do wonderful, take it from me. I have heard many songs on the wind throughout my travels, but no song contain's your voice's passion and talent."

You blush as you flexed your fingers against your fiddle.

"T-thank you, Fujin."

You bite at your lip as you look between your fiddle's case and your new friend, brows furrowed in thought. Ultimately, it's now or never since it's not often a handsome stranger randomly shows up to act as a muse for your music and then decides to befriend lil ol' you.

"Maybe you can come see my performance sometime?"

You then add frantically as you feel the back of your neck heat up.

"Only if you want though! I know you and your brother are often with travels and everything, and I don't want to be a hindrance to either of you!"

Fujin gives a chuckle before softly replying, his eyelids hooded.

"I would love nothing more; for future reference, you're never a hindrance."

You abruptly stood up and started to make your way toward town, trying your best to hide how giddy your new friend's words made you.

'Don't blow this out of proportion! He's just being nice! He just likes your music, nothing more!'

But you didn't speak any of your thoughts; instead, you said a little too quickly as you bid Fujin goodbye.

"I'll see you later then! My village is only a few minutes walk south from here! I'll be performing in the square, it's a raised stage so you can't miss it, see you soon!"

"I'll see you then."

Fujin replies as he watches you go, before leaving shortly after.

Just how amazing that was? Millenia after creating the universe, his best friend was with him again. Of course, this Kung Lao wasn't exactly his, Liu Kang always kept that in mind, but he was just as cocky, just as brave and just as loyal. His Kung Lao would have been looking in a mirror if they ever met.

His nose scrunched the same way his Kung Lao's did, and their laugh was the same, and their smile. They got mad at the same things, excited about the same things. And they both had a dependable friend by their side. The only thing Liu Kang had hoped they wouldn't share is fate.

The wind swirled around the two. A piece of paper fell into Kung Lao's open palm. He jerked and looked at it, a bright smile immediately shining on his face.

"What is it, Kung Lao?" Liu Kang tilted his head.

"A note from Raiden." Kung Lao said, unwrapping it. "You know, me and cherry blossoms are great friends. The petals carry messages to me. That's how I know everything."

The monk shrugged, as if saying: "if you don't want to believe me, then don't". But Liu Kang did. He was the one who told the blossoms about him, after all.

Kung Lao looked at the note and laughed, throwing his head back. Most curious. Liu Kang had never seen such bright, red flush cover his Kung Lao's face. Or was he simply not paying attention?

"Good news?" he asked.

"Oh, the best news," Kung Lao smirked. "I have to go. Thank you for inviting me to meditate with you."

Kung Lao stood up, dusted off and bowed, putting his hands together. Liu Kang stood up too.

"What did he say?" Liu Kang asked again, without thinking.

"That's something only I can know," Kung Lao unwrapped the paper and showed it to the Fire God. On it were a dozen symbols written in ink, none of which Liu Kang could recognize. "Me and Raiden have a secret language, and have had one since childhood. You know, so Madam Bo couldn't read it. I don't know why I'm telling you this—"

Liu Kang took the paper from his hand and gasped.

"Yes. We had that too; Bo Rai Cho wouldn't stop scolding us for it…" the smile on Liu Kang's face kept growing wider. "Incredible. But… It's not the one you and I, him and I had, is it? I can't— I can't understand it at all…"

Kung Lao took the note back.

"Of course you can't — that's the whole point! Now, I really have to go."

He started backing away slowly, impatient.

"Again, it was an honour—"

"No!" Liu Kang laughed and grabbed his shoulder. "What does it say?"

Liu Kang was smiling, but it took him a moment to realise Kung Lao wasn't.

Then it hit him.

Liu Kang's fingers were squeezing Kung Lao's arm with force Raiden has never put onto him. It was not a brotherly, playful gesture; it was a godly demand to stay in place. Liu Kang's eyes were not mischievous black sparkles; they were blinding stars plucked out of the sky. Liu Kang was eternal. Kung Lao never was.

"Lord Liu Kang," somehow, hearing this title from his lips was the worst. He was no Lord with Kung Lao. He was Liu. He was a "jerk". He was an "idiot". Never a Lord.

"You are all-seeing, of course, so no offense," Kung Lao continued, a slight smirk playing on his lips again. "But there should be secrets even you cannot know, don't you agree?"

Liu Kang nodded, smiling despite the agony this newfound truth caused him. He let go of Kung Lao. He always had to.

The warrior tipped his hat and went away. The God watched him leave. Kung Lao jumped from stone to stone like a little lamb, crossing the tiny stream that surrounded their meditation spot.

Sakura petals fell on Liu Kang's shoulders.

***