ahhh!!! congratulations on 1.1k!!! i NEED beachside with popsicle and windows down please🥹
midnight dip // 1.1k follower celebration
and to the beach we shall go! also peep my first time writing for frankie boy :,)
“you ready?” frank asks as he shrugs on his hoodie, quickly shoving his phone into his pocket while the automatic ER doors open behind him.
you grin immediately, lifting your bag onto your shoulder. “i packed the goods.”
his eyes flick down your body knowingly. “the bikini?”
“the one you bought me, yes.”
frank smirks at that. a little cocky, completely satisfied with himself. “worth every penny.”
you roll your eyes, bumping his shoulder as the two of you slip out into the warm evening air together. already given out quick goodbyes to the rest of the day-staff still lingering around the hospital.
you guys made sure your exit wasn’t suspicious or obvious. at least…not to people who didn’t quite know the two of you all that much. but the knowing looks dana keeps giving the both of you lately are starting to feel a little more dangerous than the two of you might like.
the second you guys arrive at the parking lot, frank reaches over and snatches your car keys from your hand.
“hey—”
“you’re not driving,” he denotes casually.
you scoff immediately. “why? afraid i’ll kill us?”
“no,” frank says as he unlocks your car with ease, “i’m afraid we’ll get there sometime next thursday at your speed.”
“it’s a little something called safe driving.”
“your speed is painfully safe, baby.”
you slide into the passenger seat with an offended gasp. “okay well excuse me for not wanting my obituary to read: young and beautiful ER resident launched into lake erie by divorced man having a midlife crisis.”
frank barks out a laugh instantly. a real one, head tipping back against the seat for a second while he shakes his head at you. “okay thirty-three is not a midlife crisis.”
“mhm, sure. but that’s what the beach trip at nine p.m. on a wednesday is giving though”
“and you coming along is…?”
“me, supporting your healing journey.”
“so i should say thank you then?”
“exactly!” you state, with a smile from ear to ear.
that gets another giggle out of him as he starts the car, still grinning to himself like an idiot.
and god, you love that sound. that easy, boyish laugh had gotten rarer after rehab. after the divorce papers. after the worst winter of his life carved exhaustion into every corner of his being. but lately? well, lately you’ve been dragging it out of him again, little by little.
maybe that’s how this whole stupid summer pact happened in the first place. one drunken night after shift change. both of you exhausted and buzzed and sitting on the hood of his car on a hill overlooking the city, complaining about how miserable adulthood turned out to be.
frank finalizing divorce papers. you ranting about another terrible date.
“i swear to god,” you’d groaned dramatically, “i just wanna skip all the introductory bullshit and already know someone. take some weight off my shoulders, y’know?”
frank had glanced over at you then, beer balanced against his knee. “yeah,” he’d said after a second, quieter this time. “think i’m a little tired of starting over too.”
that was what did it. somewhere between the cheap beer, the city nightlife shining below you, and both of you feeling a little too lonely.
perhaps it’s a poorly constructed agreement, but enough to agree to stop acting miserable for at least one season.
no isolating after shifts.
no rotting in your apartments.
no pretending life ended just because residency sucks and your youth didn’t turn out the way you thought they would.
instead, they’d be replaced by late-night drives and stupid adventures. beaches at midnight, gas station junk food, bad decisions but good stories.
and maybe—though neither of you said this part out loud—using each other as a distraction from everything else hurting in your lives.
because it started innocently enough. a couple drunk kisses after work. frank’s hand resting on your thigh a little longer than it should during drives home.
one night…turning into two. then suddenly you were wearing the bikini he hand-picked for you last week. waking up in each other’s beds, tangled under the sheets and driving in to work together. not to mention the hoodies he’s purposefully left at your apartment—is it in hopes this arrangement can quietly become something bigger beneath all the teasing? well, we’ll never truly know.
because for now, it's not dating, and it's definitely not serious.
just two people who already knew each other all too well, trying to feel alive again for the summer.
—
frank looks down at the pile in his arms—cheap gummies that are far too sweet, neon sports drinks, some questionably cooked gas station hot dogs—before shrugging. “i have two kids and unresolved emotional issues. why is my survival diet any news to you?”
you snort, grabbing a bag of trail mix off the shelf. “please. your kids probably have a more refined palate than you. don't drag them into this.”
“you’re losing your whimsy, you know. tough loss for the club, we were really rooting for ya”
a sudden laugh escapes you, rattling the silence of the store enough that an older woman near the coffee station glances over disapprovingly.
frank grins immediately. “see? that laugh right there? worth public humiliation.” he whispers near you.
“oh my god, shut up.” you reply, ushering him further away from the lady.
“no seriously, keep laughin’ like that and people are gonna think i’m funny.”
“you are funny.” you say so matter-of-factly, like it was already known information.
that gets him. it’s subtle, but his entire expression softens around the edges. caught somewhere between pleased and almost shy, like the compliment lands deeper than it should.
because frank’s used to people rolling their eyes at him. used to being too loud, too sarcastic, too much. but you laugh at every stupid joke with such genuinity and for some reason you look at him like he’s worth listening to.
it gives him the dumbest fucking heart-eyes imaginable.
“okay, screw the slushie” you mention, staring at the machine, not seeing the blue raspberry flavor and immediately feeling disappointed. “we can get soft serve on the way”
“with fries to dip?” frank mentions, pulling out his card at the till.
“finally something we agree on!” it earns you another earnest smile from the man.
by the time you finally reach presque isle state park, it’s almost midnight. the two of you walk through the bike trails until you begin to hear the waves hitting the shore.
your feet dig into the sand below as you both settle your things on a picnic bench. the space is empty, except for the two of you, just old footprints as evidence of the life the beach encountered earlier that day.
“alright,” you say, already tugging your shirt over your head. “turn around.”
frank lifts both hands in surrender immediately, pivoting toward the water. “yes, ma’am.”
“no peeking.”
“your standards of me are so low”
that earns a quiet laugh from you, legs shimmying out of your shorts as you tug your bikini into place as quickly as possible. your fingers fumbling a little in the dark, “okay, done.”
frank glances over his shoulder just in time to catch you sprinting toward the shoreline. bare legs kicking up sand behind you, giggling as you feel the cool night breeze against your face.
and well, frank knew he was an ass man, but good god. he shakes his head to himself, smiling despite it, shedding his own shirt as he follows after you.
the water is freezing. absolutely fucking freezing, but oh it feels so good.
“holy shit,” you breathe out, feeling a shiver run up your body. “are we gonna get hypothermia?” you ask, slowly walking further in, feeling the waves hit your calves.
“guess we’ll wait and see,” frank replies, before grabbing your wrist and bolting deeper into the water.
“frank—”
the man yanks you down with him in one violent splash. you scrunch your eyes shut as the water crashes over your face, your whole body shaking from shrieking laughter.
“LANGDON!” you shout, sputtering out the water from your mouth. even so, you wrap your arms around his neck as he sits on the pebbled floor of the water, all smug and proud.
“you are such an ass” you retaliate, matching the grin on his face.
“you’ll warm up, don’t worry,” he replies, that boyish crooked smile making your heart flutter.
you brush the wet hair out of his face. “i hate you.”
“no you don’t.” another wave crashes into both of you, swaying the two of you deeper into the water.
the cold surrounds you even more and you can’t help but gasp. instinctively, you press closer against langdon, clinging to his shoulders while the cold tears another small shriek out of you.
frank just laughs, hands steady at your waist now to keep you upright. “c’mon,” he says, quieter this time. “get used to it.”
you glare at him through chattering teeth. “i’m gonna drown you.”
“i knew you’d be the death of me” he murmurs, placing a quick peck on your collarbone. “i’m just glad it's you.”
the words hit you strangely hard. dangerous territory, especially for two people pretending this is all temporary.
his hands squeeze your hips, his body warm even in the conditions you’ve both put yourselves in. the waves keep lapping around the two of you. midnight air pressing cool against your wet skin. you stare at the man in front of you, so close up you can see the droplets caught in his eyelashes.
he looks at you like he’s waiting for something, or maybe just making sure this is all okay. so you don’t think about it too hard, you just grab the back of his neck and kiss him.
it starts a little clumsy because you’re both still half-giggling, mouths a little cold and slippery from the lake.
frank soon makes this small sound against your lips before kissing you back with more determination. one of his hands slides up from your waist to cup the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek while another wave crashes him further against you. his lips slip away from you as they fall to your shoulder.
“ow” he whines quietly as you laugh into his hair.
“real smooth,” you mumble, pulling his head back in front of you.
“shut up,” he murmurs back, smiling into the next kiss.
and this one, it lingers. not rushed, just frank kissing you in possible hypothermic temperatures at midnight like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.
suddenly you understand why people fall in love during summers like this. because nights like this trick you into remembering that life is more than the things that exhaust you.
more than the hospital lights and divorce papers and bad dates and rent payments and alarms set too early and not enough coffee in you while you’re getting ripped a new one by your attending.
sometimes it’s this. freezing lake water and gas station hot dogs and laughing so hard your stomach hurts.
it’s frank langdon kissing you like the world isn’t so heavy for once.
and maybe that’s what makes it dangerous: realizing you deserve moments like this, too. realizing how easy life starts to feel when he’s looking at you like that.
A Beautiful Burst of Chaos: Caleb Jefferson x Reader
Tagging: @kmc1989
AN: A fun fact about the OCD traits listed in this story. - They're all true. When we first moved in together I noticed my husband would consistantly check the oven switch was off, the same with the lights, the same with the locks - I'm not talking once... I'm talking numerous times. It got to the point where I suggested he may have OCD. Which was then when he showed me his camera roll... It was scroll after scroll of pictures of our car, literally 250 images he'd taken in one day because everytime he tried to walk away, his brain kept misfiring and telling him he'd left the lights on. Even though he had checked, taken pictures, he still wasn't able to walk away. This apparently been happening for a while and he was too embarrassed to tell me about it. With my encouragement he did go to a doctor and was diagnosed with OCD. A decade later he was also diagnosed with autism, again from me prompting him to see a doctor after years of expressing there were traits I was seeing. - Now he has a much better understanding of himself and how to combat issues when he has a flair up.
Summary: Caleb doesn't notice the lipstick stain until a client points it out.
There’s lipstick on his neck. Caleb doesn’t realise it until his third patient of the day, David Hill points it out mid-session. Caleb rearranges the collar of his shirt, hiding the mark before redirecting David towards his own issues.
The fact that he has taken over 250 pictures of his car this morning.
I just didn’t trust that I’d turned the headlights off, he tells Caleb after apologising for the ninth time about being late.
His compulsions, they bleed into other parts of his world too. Constant reassurance from his partner, turning oven switches on and off, locking and unlocking doors. Even the news stories he covers for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette are a casualty of his illness.
Sometimes I don’t trust the notes I’ve made. We have to scrap entire stories because I get into this cycle of checking and rechecking.
“You haveObsessive Compulsive Disorder.” Caleb explains to the other man as they sit across from each other in the counselling room. “It can become exacerbated when you’re going through a time of stress. We’ll work through it together with some Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, do a little Exposure and Response Prevention. In the meantime, Fluoxetine should help negate some of the symptoms.”
He sends the prescription and his patient down to the pharmacy, before picking up his phone and using camera mode to review the lipstick stain you’d left on his skin this morning. He catches a flash of colour as he places his glasses on his bridge of his nose, squinting at coral mark over his jugular.
“Christ.” He mutters, snatching up a tissue from the box situated on the corner of his desk. He thought he’d managed to remove them all but as always, you’re a distraction, a beautiful burst of chaos in his otherwise organised life.
Being with you, it’s ruinous.
It’s making love until the early hours of the morning, the sun filtering in through the curtains. It’s falling asleep listening to the radio because your busy brain needs that background noise. It’s coming home to his favourite ER cowgirl sitting in his kitchen, wearing one of his shirts as she writes up notes for the paper she’s submitting to one of those medical journals.
It’s when he’s next summoned down to the E.D that he finally catches up with you. You’re situated at one of the hot desks, filling in your charts on the computer when he wheels his way up to you, taking up residence in the vacant space beside you. The left side of your mouth quirks up into a smile, your lips the same painted shade that marred his skin.
He remembers what they felt like this morning, ghosting along the curve of his throat as you straddled his hips, your nails digging into his shoulders leaving half-moons in the muscle. His rough hands chasing up your spine, keeping you close as you rode him into oblivion, shattering together three second before his ‘You need to leave right fucking now’ alarm went off.
“Did you come here just to see me?” You incline your head towards him, your chin resting on your palm.
An errant strand of hair escapes your ponytail, falling across your features and he resists the urge to tuck it back behind your ear. It’s important to him that the two of you remain professional in the workplace, he knows how interpersonal relationships can be perceived by others even though you are both playing at the same level.
“I have a patient.” He says almost apologetically, gesturing at the tablet in his lap. “But seeing you, it brightens my day.”
“I should hope so.” You say, leaning in close. The scent of his citrus bodywash clings to your skin, and he tries not to think about the fact he spent fifteen minutes of that shower with his tongue buried in your pussy. “Because seeing you Caleb, it certainly brightens mine.”
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Okay but MxM: imagine there’s like a ‘peace’ treaty between humans and Yautja and some interspecies programs are set up, and a Yautja and a human who absolutely despise each other get teamed up, absolutely bully each other and then one begins to realise it’s sexual tension not hate and they just end up fucking on the job🗣️🔥
Thick As A Knife
Pairings: Celtic (Male Yautja) x AMAB!Reader
Word Count: 6300 (Whoop! Ten pages)
Summary: This was all your friend's fault. Sign up for the treaty, he said. It'll be fun, he said. It's not like you would've gotten picked. Until you received a phone call one day. The only reason you don't say no was the fact of the pay. The pay.
Author Note: This... this unfortunately isn't one of my best works. I don't feel very proud of it but I can't find the energy to redo. I'm so sorry, dude, I tried my best. I hope it still works for you though! I tried to make it decent by using your favorite man's.
Masterlist
Ao3
Out of everyone that was offered as a sacrifice, er, sorry. That was placed into the program, you had been one that was chosen. One of your friends put your name into the gamble just for the fun of it alongside herself. Look at what’s happening now.
All of your stuff was pulled from your apartment and placed into a shipping container. Where it will be taken to an interspecies ship that was the first of its kind. Not only will that happen, but apparently you’re going to be placed with the species you hated. A species who was completely uncivilized. They call humans primitive but strut around half naked in fishnets. If there wasn’t a good amount of cash that’s being deposited into your account as you say, there was no way in hell you would let this happen. Not if you’re going to trapped in a space with the Yautjas.
A scoff left your lips, eyes rolling. This was unbelievable. Space travel wasn’t shiny new, but it’s not like you’ve been outside of earth’s atmosphere before. That’s when your leg began to shake, bouncing up and down in a rapid motion.
So far, there’s been no incidents. That included both the ship you’ll be residing on and with the new friendly Yautjas your government decided to friend. It was best to keep your enemies close, keep an eye on them. Yet, here they are, sticking you to a randomly picked alien as well. The two of you had one thing in common. Forced by your governments to follow their commands.
The door to the shipping unit shut before your very eyes and locked away all your possessions. Your lips pressed into a thin line.
Over on the street, a black car pulled into the parking lot. The windows completely blacked out. All you could see was your own reflection staring back at you. Then, the tinted window rolled down to reveal a woman dressed in a suit. She reminded you of the movie Men In Black with the black glasses. Once again, you couldn’t see here eyes.
She motioned towards the front see you were meant to take. With one more glance to what could be the last time you may see your apartment, you opened the door and slid in. The shipping container was left behind for someone to come pick and take to your new home. Thinking about it was making it more of a reality in your mind. Your leg began to twitch again.
All the way to the launch site, the driver kept silent. Her glasses provided the perfect barrier from seeing her eyes and getting a read on her. You wrung out your fingers while they sat in your lap the entire car ride.
About three hours had passed before she turned onto what looked to be an abandoned road. It was strictly gravel. This wasn’t what you were expecting to be the grand entrance to a new life in space. You watched as low hills passed on either side of the car. She wasn’t in much of a rush, carefully about how bumpy the backroad was.
The car came over a hill. On the other side sat a small, navy blue vessel. A vessel that resembled the ships many of the Yautjas used. Your mood soured immediately, ruined by the reminder of where you were going. Your muscles grew tense. Unsaid words entered the air and filled it with tension that the driver could feel.
When the vehicle came to halt, the process was swift. You were given a quick brief of how to act and what to do while on this ship. It practically went into one ear and out the other. Honestly, you tried to listen, tried to be a good sacrifice. But with the situation, you stopped caring. If only they were the ones going to be stuck with the brute of an alien for however long they pleased. There were no set times. Just a paycheck in the mail every two weeks you are there. A good paycheck that had you mostly compliant.
After everything was said and done, they ushered you towards this navy blue vessel. A ramp lowered down at your presence. It felt like a scene from Star Wars. The hiss of steam before a ramp revealed the inside of this ship. As a human, your curiosity was screaming at you, wanting to figure out everything that made this thing tick. You were becoming part of the first group of humans to enter space. Though, with the aid of another species. It was still a feat that wasn’t achievable in this manner until now.
They showed you up the ramp before leaving you in the middle of a small gathering room. The ship itself wasn’t massive by any means. Just a carrier ship for short travel.
Towards the front of the vessel was the cockpit. At first, you missed the figure but your eyes snapped back to him.
From limited pictures, you could still tell this was that Yautja, that unfortunate partner you’ve been paired with. They call him Celtic. It almost gave him a sort of human side to him but immediately narrowed your eyes on the figure. He was your ride? You internally scoffed and fought off the want to cross your arms. That would look bad on your part. And that paycheck was looking really, really nice.
The brute of a man stood up. Never in your life had you been around one of them before. They don’t come to earth. Not unless they hunted before the treaty. That didn’t happen much anymore, unless someone offered themselves up for the hunt. That was part of the deal the government made with the Yautjas.
And he was tall and thick. He had to be at least three times your mass. His sensor dreads weren’t extremely long. They were a dark black, signaling his young age. You were surprised his government had sent someone on the younger side to be part of the treaty. Yet, here you were as well.
A forced smile cracked at your features. It felt more like a grimace. Celtic stopped in front of you and tilted his head down, bright yellow eyes peering into your very soul. It became a staring contest, trying to find the weakness in each other. Whatever you could get to make sure you had the upper hand. He was a beast, a species that knows no mercy. You hated the fact that you had been roped into those by your friend. There was no backing out. All you could do was endure this for however long it was necessary. Get the money, get out. Simple as that.
His mandibles flickered, tongue darting out to taste the air. “You are not what I was expecting,” he speaks in a slower voice. A proper speech as if he just recently learned English. It took a lot of will not to cross your arms and drop the façade at his words. This is part of the reason you disliked this species as a whole. They were all the same. There was no difference between any of them. They all had that rude attitude. It irked you so much too.
Your hand curled into a fist at your sides. You clicked your tongue, eyes roaming from head to toe in a careless manner. “And you’re not as high skilled as I thought you would be,” your snarked and relaxed your grip. It would be best not show your emotions as much to these guys.
One thing you knew about these guys was where to hurt them. Their pride and hunting skills. Hit either of those and they will show they don’t like to be challenged. It didn’t matter what sex, both sex’s aren’t going to back down from a challenge. Especially one they know that could be won. One against a weak ooman that’s defenseless. You read up on some of their culture. To make sure you had everything in your power to survive this to the disastrous end. The people with the white wigs didn’t know a lick about what happens below their boot.
Just think of the money.
The way his eyes darkened, mandibles pulling tight over his alien mouth. Nothing needed to be said that you got under his skin. You held back a proudful smirk and kept your eyes narrowed on his towering figure.
Celtic scoffed then spun on his heel before strutting into the cockpit. You let the grin crack your façade wide open. Ah, that was lovely. You meandered after him and peered into the new space. It wasn’t spacious by any means, but it held the most important pieces to fly the craft. Despite your smug feelings, you were in awe at the incredible technology shift. You hid it before taking a seat to the left of him. The Yautja didn’t even glance in your direction.
Ah, you had really hit him where it hurt. Good. He’s probably killed one of your kind. He deserved it.
Underneath you, the ship rumbled, and the engines flared to life. It was powerful to be inside of such a thing. Your grin flickered onto your features for only a second. This wasn’t the time. You shoved it down to the pit of your stomach and gripped onto the armrests. This was your first time launching into space, leaving earths atmosphere. There was no way to stop the thundering of your heart.
Earth’s ground left the landing gear’s feet. You leaned forward in your seat to peer over the edge of console to look out the window. Once a hundred feet in the air, Celtic rapidly presses a few buttons then grabbed a lever. You had no time to react when he punched it. The force sent you flying back into the seat with a soft ‘oof’. The air in your lungs was pushed out but you quickly regained control.
He pressed forward and tilted the craft into a climb. Clouds whooshed passed the window. A sight you’ve never got to see before, even when flying. It continued to push higher and higher into the sky. Soon the day sky turned into night in a matter of a minute. Without light pollution of the cities, the stars were free to shine as brightly as they wished. You leaned forward in awe. The sight beyond anything you’d experienced before.
The craft leveled out without the fighting force of earth’s gravity to pull it down. The lack of gravity pulled at your stomach. Nausea washed over you for a few moments. Then, everything returned to normal. Your grip still clung to the armrests of the co-pilot’s chair. It would take an act of God to get you to loosen up. Fear wasn’t the contributing factor but the unknown of the whole situation made you feel unease. You’ve seen plenty of pictures and 3D models of the vessel you’ll be staying in. That’s fake over the rude awaking of the real world. It was really happening.
A moment passed when your gaze returned to the open vast space. In front of the ship, far away, was the forementioned ship. Your jaw slackened at the size. It rivaled a football field or cruise ship easily. Without any indicator, it was difficult to tell. There was nothing in space to compare it to, to see how big it really was. But it was huge.
That’s where you were going to be staying. A fact you didn’t have hit you in the fact until now. Celtic flew the ship closer to what’s called a mother ship. It’s a hub, per se. It’s where a clan would live and could maintain one as well. Similar to a tiny planet.
With practice ease, Celtic pulls the ship in the docking portion of the ship. He lands nearly perfect with only a bounce then shuts down all the engines. A new silence washes over the two of you. Celtic is up and out of his seat without a word. The lumbering form expertly spins on his heel once up and marches towards the back of the carrier vessel you were in. You jolted at the sudden abandonment and rushed after him like a stumbling fool. “What that fuck!? Wait up for me,” you yelled at him and barely made it to him when the ramp had touched the ground.
There he goes again.
Long strides take him down the ramp. You tsked to yourself and raced after his fleeing form. Clearly, he dislikes your presence. That’s makes two of you.
You ran into his back with grunt and stumbled back. Right as you were about to yell at him for that, a throat clearing stopped you in your tracks. You peered around Celtics form to find three well decorated Yautjas standing in front of him. An ‘oh shit’ moment slapped you straight in the face. Your lips pressed into a thin line.
To look like less than a fool, you calmly stepped out from behind him and stood with your shoulders squared. Four pairs of eyes were set onto your form. You recalled from the information given to you, to not stare into their eyes. It can be seen as a challenge. Something you would never, ever want to deal with. You respectfully bowed your head in their direction, understanding they are at least elders. A high rank amongst their culture. To piss them off meant a death sentence.
One of them called your name and drew your timid gaze to the trio. You are respectful to let your eyes flicker between them or towards the ground.
“We are pleased to see you’ve joined us,” the one to your left politely greets you, mandibles slowly stretching out. “This is a wonderful opportunity for both of our communities to learn from this experience.” You had to shut off your throat to stop a scoff from escaping in their faces. They learned plenty from all the times they visited.
The middle one, an earthy green tone, dips his head a centimeter. “Yes. It is a great experience for all parties. As for your stay, you aren’t obligated to stay. You are no prisoner but a guest amongst the Yautja. If an issue arises, don’t be afraid to reach out to the three of us. We want to ensure you make it off of the mother ship alive.” The joke is crude but seems a normal thing for them.
They all chuckle in a short manner. “Your quarters are different compared to normal ones onboard. You are stationed with Celtic here, as he is your partner for this. There are two separate rooms. He will be your guide throughout all of this,” the one on your right spoke up. “Your things shall arrive at the end of the cycle. We wish the best of luck towards the both of you.”
All of them glanced at Celtic for a fleeting moment before leaving you to him. Celtic watched as the elders left the docking area. The second they were out of sight, he started a fast pace in a certain direction. You were left to scamper after him all over again. You gritted your teeth and practically ran to catch up to him.
“Seriously, wait up! I’m not as tall as you,” you snapped at the still retreating frame. Your legs moved as fast as they could to catch up to him. Celtic didn’t even glance down at you and kept the same speedy pace towards a certain direction.
With the knowledge of how long it will take for your unit to make it up here, you were stuck with the clothes on your back and the phone in your pocket. Nothing else. You grumbled under your pants while forced to jog next to the strutting male. He was fast, you’ll have to give him that. Celtic walked with purpose towards an elevator. The doors opened at your approach. He entered and spun on his heel to face the entrance. His eyes didn’t even flicker in your general direction. They stared out into the open space of the docking port. You barely made it inside in time before the doors closed and sealed your fate with him.
All the way to the desired floor, Celtic was silent. The gears inside of his head were working overtime. You didn’t need to know him long to see what was happening. Not that you cared. There wasn’t a chance you would care about him. Not in a million years.
In a flash, the male was out the door and down the hall. A growl left your throat. You chased after him and slipped past other roaming Yautjas. Some gave you glares while other completely ignored you, unless you ran into them. Then, a threatening snarl would work its way to your ears. You were swift to get out of their way and flail to keep up with Celtic. He was doing this on purpose. There were no doubts about that. All you wanted was to go to the designated room and call it a night. Today’s been filled with plenty of excitement, including packing everything important to your everyday activities. You didn’t know how long you were going to be here. It was best to be prepared.
Celtic stopped in his tracks. Right at the moment you caught up to him. You bumped into his side with your shoulder. A pointed look was thrown at you. Instead of cowering like you would’ve to any other Yautja, you sneered and challenged him silently to do something. Sure, have this whole treaty situation go up in arms right off the bat. You didn’t care. There was a paycheck sitting happily in your bank account. One nice enough to keep you content for a while.
The alien paused his actions from entering the room and crowded into your space. Despite being one-third of his mass and weight, you kept up the challenge and rose on your tippy toes. His bright eyes darkened at the sight. The lower two of his mandibles twitched in thought. The upper ones were pulled tight over his mouth. Your muscles were locked, ready for whatever he decided to throw at you. You weren’t going to let him or anyone else push you around. Especially, him.
Even when he got so close his stomach pressed against your chest, you didn’t waver. Something in his eyes flickered but you held strong. Number one rule in their culture, don’t back down from a fight. Especially so quickly, it makes you look weak and pathetic. You weren’t either of those. You weren’t going to be that.
The two of you stayed like this for a long time. People passed by. Some glancing at the strange sight while other just ignored the scene as if it was normal. But, it was him who faltered.
His eyes rolled in such a human manner you did a double take. A grumble left his throat while he turned away and strolled into the room. You dumbly stood there for a few moments before rushing inside. Just before the door closed shut and sealed off your new space to the rest of the mother ship. You halted in the foyer and glanced around the areas you could see.
This wasn’t what you were expecting. Though, this was a treaty of alliance and such, you weren’t expecting just a large space.
There were at least three doors you could see from your stop in the main entrance. Everything seemed polished down to the modules and made everything perfect. You slowly meander further inside. There was a kitchen, a decent sized one. A dining room as well; as if you were going to have diner with Celtic, let alone share a meal with him.
All you could speculate about the closed doors were those were the bedrooms and a bathroom. There was also a living room as well. Plenty of space to house a party. You huffed and turned towards him.
“Have you chosen a room or…?” you trailed off in hopes of an answer from him. He blinked at you then disappeared into one of the bedrooms without a word. Anger flared to life. You wanted to wring his neck. Instead, you walked into the only other available room and sat down on the mattress. It was extremely low to the ground. By the looks of it, it almost seemed like it was sunken into the floor. Your legs were kicked out straight in front of you.
Out of everything, this wasn’t what you were expecting. From a life on a planet, you were content with the space offered to you. The people on the other hand. That wasn’t something you were fond of. In all honesty, you wanted to smack him so hard he could see straight. Yet, you refrained from violence on the first.
And the second. Then, the third. Until the days began to blur together that point.
It wasn’t hard to keep track though. Out of everything though, the only thing that was exciting or adrenaline pumping was being dragged to the front of the ship. Straight to the captains cockpit to do a video call back home. You preformed a few briefings with your agents or point of contact. Nothing besides that was entertaining.
Celtic was still pissed at you. He kept his distance far from you as much as possible. Unless the two of you are called upon to speak before the important figures of this whole operation. That’s really when you would only talk to each other and truly see one another. Any other time, he’s either out with his hunt brothers or in his room.
As the only lone human on this alien ship, you’ve cornered yourself into the room. The door was locked most of the time and kept you safe from the monsters you were surrounded by. Food was the only time you freely came out. The need to feed so you didn’t starve was a necessity. You would busy yourself during that time. Even if Celtic came in to the shared apartment, he would go straight to his space. Not a word even uttered in your general direction.
One day, the male came in. Unlike every other time he’s been here, he stopped at the island in the kitchen. Celtic bent over the island and rested on his elbows, eyes watching your every move about. You grew anxious, unsure whether he meant harm or not. Not that he ever has shown he wanted to cause you injury, but you couldn’t help this feeling deep inside of you.
After another minute goes by, you tensed up and spun around on your heel. “What in the world is your problem?!” you snapped at him and pointed the spatula in your hand at him. A brow arches. You motioned with the object in hand for him to move along. “Shoo, let me cook in peace.” He continued to stare at you. You narrowed your eyes at him and pressed your lips into a tight, thin line. Apparently, he didn’t have anything better to do at this moment. Your gaze flickered down his body, taking in the sight of the lack of clothes that adorned him. His muscular body easily on display without any remorse. Like the dumbass you are, you stared longer than you meant to.
Celtic just stayed there. A sigh left your lips. You grumbled under your breath before slowly turning back around to face the stove. It wasn’t like you could anything to make him move if he didn’t. The Yautja was three times your mass. It would be easy to figure out how well that would turn out to be without even needing to see anything occur.
The entire time, his eyes stayed on you. The hunk stood in the same spot, not even wavering. Just a predator watching… his prey. You shuttered at the thought and quickened your pace. The faster you finished the process, the faster you could get into your room. Away from him and weirdness happening right now.
Your food was nearly done. The burner was shut off. It smelled like heaven. If one thing about this time away from home has taught you something, how to truly cook. When you have nothing else to do, cooking is a great experience to have under your belt.
Large, warm hands grasped at your hips, nearly encircling your entire waist. A gasp tore from your throat. Your hands braced onto the edge of the stove when a weight pinned you in pace.
An inner instinct deep down commanded you to stay put. You gingerly peeked over your shoulder. Celtic, in all of his glory, stood there. A rumbling purr poured from his throat. A noise that had your muscles relaxing underneath him. You bowed your head and huffed. “What… what is your problem?” you grounded out.
Claws dented your shirt. “You.” The weight shifted. The stove’s edge dug into your stomach, further proving his strength against you. You gritted your teeth at the slight ache that gave you.
He bowed his spine to hover his mouth next to your head. “You’ve been my problem. This entire time. You’ve driven me insane.” The long, forked, pink tongue flickered out to taste the air. “It’s been impossible to keep my hands still every time I get a whiff of you. You’re ooman. I shouldn’t even like you. This is all for formality.”
The grip tightened. His face inched closer to the crook of your neck. “I’ve imagined plenty of times about how I should go about this. But I can’t take it. I need you, little prey.” You shuttered out a whimpered and clenched your jaw tightly. By god’s grace, you shouldn’t be entertaining this, letting him even touch you. The feel of his hands on you was amazing.
Then, you steeled your emotions. One of your elbows strikes him in the exposed side and send him stepping back away from you. A firm look graced your features when you spun around to face Celtic.
In his bent over state, he picked up his head to find your fierce gaze. You whipped out a hand. Your fingers encircled his throat. With whatever power that drove you, you pushed his form back. He was forced back until the couch caught his legs. The towering figure tipped over and landed onto the cushions you. A grin cracked your features. You climbed into his lap and straddled his large hips. Everything about him was larger than life. It would be a challenge, but you didn’t care. Not at this point.
Your hand still held tightly onto his throat. Celtic looked at your commanding form and let you take control. “Guess what, you’ve been my problem this entire time too. Being a bitch every time I do something.” You sat up higher and made him look up at you slightly. “I’ve wanted nothing more than to wring out your neck. You standing around like a weirdo, with this sculpted body.”
Bright, yellow eyes watched your every move. The Yautja was intrigued with what you were doing. Your other hand palmed at his abs to make your point to him.
A deep grumbled escaped his throat, vibrating against your palm. “And what are you going to do about it?” he challenged, a glint filling his eyes.
Instantly, your anger flared wider than a solar flare. You leaned in close enough to feel the breath of his. “I’m going to rip off your fucking pants,” you said more as a question rather than a statement. You wanted his consent, hoping not to be reading off the wrong signs of this whole situation. That would make this ten times worse than before.
One of his mandibles quirked up. “Best of luck, little prey.” Your teeth grounded against one another. He chuckled nonchalantly. You ripped your hand off his throat and used both to unbuckle his pants. It was easy to figure out how they open and tugged them down enough to expose the slick slit of his sheath.
This was something you weren’t going to admit but you did some research on their anatomy. They had a sheath compared to everything hanging out, including internal testicles. You were jealous of their anatomy and wish humans had that.
A smirk broke across your features. “What’s this I see? Mister high and mighty is aroused from a little human being dominate, isn’t that right?” you taunted the beast of an alien underneath you. Your thumb ran along the wetness of his slit and barely pressed against it.
Two hands grasped at your hips again and pulled you down to grind against his groin. You choked on a gasp and slapped your hands down on his shoulders. Celtic rutted his hips up against your clothed crotch. Immediately, your dick began to stir to life, hidden away in your pants. A bulge began to form at the stimulation.
“Does the little human think he can take charge? When I could easily pin you down and take you on the floor like some animal?” Celtic snarled and tilted your hips just enough so the side of your cock rubbed against his open pants. You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent a moan from escaping. Pleasure raced up the base of your spine. “Pants. Off. Now.” There was a slight hint in his voice that gave you the chance to back out.
You struggled out of your pants until they were on the floor. Your cock was erect and throbbing at the lack of attention.
The Yautja purred at the sight, hands palming at your exposed thighs. Long, black claws dragged across the skin and left behind red marks in their wake. He grasped the globes of your ass and lifted you up against his chest. You scrambled to hold onto his shoulders for purchase. The length of your cock rubbed against the muscle of his torso. Your toes curled at the feeling of pleasure again.
He used both hands to spread your cheeks wide. You were forced to lean against him for support and gazed down at him. “Now, do you want this knot inside of you or not?” You took the hint to reach down and encircled your hand around his pulsing cock. It was hot to the touch and wet from his shaft.
The pointed head poked at your exposed hole. You couldn’t stop the way you tensed at the feeling. He was large in stature and size. There was without a doubt this would hurt. But you wanted it. To teach him a lesson. Because fuck him. You were about to. You gritted your teeth then sank down.
Only the head was able to fit on the first try. Your body desperately wanted to curl in on itself when the ache hit you hard. It took all of your power not to. The beast snarled, claws digging into your malleable flesh and created dents in your skin. But, he didn’t notice nor cared. Celtic used his superior strength to force you down while also thrusting his hips up.
Skin slapping against echoed in the shared space around the two of you. A high-pitched keen left your cracked lips. You leaned back to rest your hands on his thighs and hold on. In his eyes, a dangerous looked entered them. You clenched around the intrusion inside of you. His irises darkened. His grip caused blood to trickle down your fragile skin. The pain of that was the last thing on your mind. You knew instantly by the expression he held you were in for it. Your jaw stayed tense, gritting your teeth against one another.
The slow drag of his cock out of your stretched, abused hole had you feeling more sensitive than ever before. Celtic slammed you down and kept the pace like that. You were being used as a flesh light for him. Every noise you made echoed back at you. It sounded like sin and heavenly sex at the same time. Your moans loud and needy as his entire length rubbed against your prostate, never leaving the pleasure spot alone.
Each bounce caused your cock to slap against each other’s stomach. The sensitive tip grew flush with blood. Pre leaked out and wettened both of your skins. It was dirty and needy all at the same time.
All you could do was brace on his knees and relax your muscles. Yet, when the pain finally waned, you pushed off of them and fumbled against his chest. The Yautja growled his warning. Not like you cared.
You were able to stable yourself on his torso before starting to meet each of his thrusts. He looked nearly as much as a mess as you were. “Can’t, ah, can’t handle it, Celtic?” you taunt him with an shit eating grin. Said male narrowed his gaze on you, thrusts messing up slightly. “Thought you were all, all game and whatnot? But, you truly can’t handle a human’s ass. Little bitch.”
His claws continued to draw blood freely from your skin. Celtic stopped. The only sound in the room was the combined panting from the two of you. His bright eyes were nearly a dark shade of yellow. It was scary.
“Oh, little prey. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” He leaned into your personal space, panting hot air on your neck. “I have more stamina than you. You’ll be a whining, crying mess by the time I run through your ass. You won’t have anything left in your balls,” he challenged back, tongue flickering out again.
With an arm, you curl it around the back of his neck and tried to rise up higher on your knees. “I don’t think you’ll even last more than a round. You’ll be drooling by the first time you come. And, you’ll come quick. So pathetic.” His hands were so tight around your waist, it was impossible to move. Instead, you reached between the two of you and grasped at your own aching cock. You spat into your hand and started to stroke yourself in need of relief.
“Say’s the one-“ he lets you rise “-needily stroking himself in my lap.” He forces your form back down on his shaft. You screamed out and nearly pinched the base of your cock. The motion causes you to fall on to his torse, still pumping away. “See? Pathetic. Still jerking off with a cock deep inside of him. Such a needy, little ooman. Greedy little hole, needing my cock to fill it.”
The muscles on his stomach are chiseled. You pressed one side of your cock with a palm on his abs and thrusted against his toned muscles. A whined surged passed your lips. “S-shut up,” you snarked back weakly, not caring as much as before. Not with the edge growing near. “Fuck, yeah. Gonna come. I’m gon-gonna make a mess all over you. Teach yo-you a lesson.” It won’t work. You hoped it wouldn’t work.
Celtic grinned widely with his mandibles and angled his hips. Each thrust forced his length to slide against your prostate with all the strength he has. “Teach me a lesson? Sure. The lesson is how tight a ooman’s ass is. So fucking tight. I can’t wait to knot you.” You keened and quickened your thrusts. “There you go, desperate whore. Needing an alien to fuck you in the ass to get you to shut up.”
“I wish I had known that when I met you. Would’ve done it a long time ago,” he snarled, voice growing deep with each word.
At this point, you couldn’t think straight. The pleasure was rampant. It took over every sense you had. All you knew was the need to come. You came hard.
With a choked scream, head bowed down into his chest, cum spurted from the head of your dick and coated his entire torso. Each thrust only caused more to cover him. Your length throbbed hard, trying to soak Celtic. You mewled and squirmed in his hold, trying to get him to ease up. That only seemed to spur him on more. He somehow quickened his pace.
The skin on the back’s of your thighs and ass were going to be so sore tomorrow. You knew sitting down was going to be next to impossible. He held you place though, not allowing you any reprieve from his assault. “You’re going to take my cock like the good little prey you are. Fucking take it!” he snarled and grounded his hips against yours one last time.
Hot, thick spurts of cum filled you. A thick ball of flesh plugged you up, sealing every drop of Celtic’s seed inside of you. You were a limp mess on his torso, unable to even raise your head.
He collapsed against the couch with a deep, content purr that vibrated throughout his entire body. Strong, massive hands petted down your sweaty back. “Paya, I can tell it’s going to take forever for my knot to go down.” Shit, right… Yautja’s have knots. That’s why you felt fuller than normal. You groaned and rubbed your face against his similarly sweaty chest.
“Shut up,” you grumbled and stayed against him. It maybe sticky and a little gross. Yet, with his knot pressing against your prostate, you were trying not to go into overstimulation.
A chuckle left the creature’s chest. Celtic ran a hand from the base of your spine all the way to your neck. Said limb stayed there and cradled you close him. Your eyes shut, letting the dopamine fill your veins.
Album review - Black Holes and Revelations - Muse [NME (July 1st, 2006)]
To infinity and beyond!
Britain's grandest rockers boldly go where no band has gone before
Muse
Black Holes and Revelations
Reviewed by Anthony Thornton
A thousand 100ft Matt Bellamies stomp down your street, turning buildings to dust with one sonic blast
So, just how bombastic, overblown, wilfully obscure, magnificent, portentous, histrionic, eccentric and mental is Muse's new record? Well, there's a moment, as ‘Hoodoo’ morphs into epic finale ‘Knights Of Cydonia’, when a piano that sounds like it's heralding the destruction of the universe gives way to the sound of galloping horses. Horses! It's as if the Four Horsemen themselves have come from the underworld by the closing seconds of track 10. Then there's laser guns, explosions and sirens before a choir of deathly damned begin a dreadful, unearthly wail. It's The Book Of Revelations gone rock, and it's the most overblown thing in the world. Except it's not this world: Cydonia is the region of Mars where evidence of pyramids and oceans are the best clue to prove there was life there once. Toto, I don't think we're in Albion anymore…
Barking stuff, obviously, but why does music have to be so serious, so authentic? Rock is the only artform where authenticity is held supreme — more important than moving or provoking you. It's as if the whole rock canon has been assembled by a committee of sociologists rather than hedonists, madmen and geniuses. When did using the imagination become a crime?
Muse are classic whipping boys for the Keeping It Real campaigners, having never written songs about bouncers, waiting for taxis or fancying girls on dancefloors. Why bother with, say, the shonky bits of Sheffield when you've got the entire cosmos to sing about? Take the first single. It's the one with a daring electro shuffle, like Kylie grooving with a goth Prince. It's called ‘Supermassive Black Hole’ and its the most serious and hilarious musical moment of the year. Muse may have been inspired to write this by dancing to Franz in New York clubs, but they've made a classic of their own; the sort that Marilyn Manson would make if he were half as subversive as he thought he was. It has, suffice to say, scared some of the fanboys who can happily talk about the multiple ways the world may end, but can't quite stomach talk of singular lust. They do, however, grasp the, er, gravity, of this Supermassive Black Hole: Muse have changed.
The sexy shimmy-fuck-yeah sound of ‘SMBH’ is unique. Elsewhere they're evolving in other ways. There's the sound of ‘Enjoy The Silence’-era Depeche Mode electro (‘Map Of The Problematique’) and a smoky Frank Sinatra croon that quotes the opera song ‘Ave Maria’. And this time not all the pianos sound like they're falling into hell. Some, in fact, could grace a Keane album. ‘Starlight’ has that tinkly piano melody and could - whisper it - be a love song. A love song about black holes, revelations, the end of the world and that sort of thing. Meanwhile, ‘Invincible’'s military drumroll rhythm is topped by Matt Bellamy's best Tom-from-Keane impression until, at three minutes 51, there's the familiar shrill guitar histrionics, as the slumbering Muse juggernaut wakes and advances like it's rolling over Chaplin's podgy face. You can practically hear his head burst like a watermelon. Elsewhere, it's business as (un) usual. There's the raybeam guitar arpeggios, the doomy pianos and the multi-tracked, Queen-like vocals that all bring to mind a thousand 100ft Matt Bellamies stomping down your street, turning buildings to dust with a single sonic blast. It all hurtles towards the aforementioned ‘Knights Of Cydonia’, the first US single; as huge as ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ or anything they did before. Its galloping rhythm has the same headlong exhilarating thrills of great metal epics like Led Zeppelin's ‘Achilles Last Stand’ and Iron Maiden's ‘Run To The Hills’.
Muse have made a ridiculous, overblown, ambitious and utterly brilliant album, with more thrills than their previous three put together, which, in an alternative universe, would leave them at the end of an epic lineage connecting the greatest bands of all time: Queen, Roxy Music, Ziggy (not his mere human form of Bowie), ABC, Frankie Goes To Hollywood, Adam And The Ants and Queens Of The Stone Age. In this universe of Dadrock authenticity, they've made a record with enough power and ambition that it might just rewrite that particular rulebook. Whichever way, ‘Black Holes & Revelations’ will slay you.
BLOOD! MANIA! NINA SIMONE! Hold tight, it's the amazing Top 10 Muse moments
Glastonbury
People mocked at the thought of Muse alongside Oasis and Macca as headliners. They didn't laugh for long, as Muse effortlessly stole the show from all in their wake. Stuff of legend.
Supermassive Black Hole
In which they revealed themselves able to 'do sexy' in snake-hipped fashion and scored their biggest hit to date.
Stockholm Syndrome
Ushering in the dawn of Muse Mk 2, this towering inferno is still the perfect example of what techno can sound like when it's played with guitars. Also remarkable as the first ever download to make the NME Tracks Of The Year list.
The jet pack of legend
Matt: “It's one of the best things I've ever experienced. It spins around, you take off, you fly and you feel like you're the next step up the evolutionary ladder. I've been up to 3,000ft in it. After that, things begin to get a bit blurry.”
Triumph over adversity
On 2004's Curiosa tour of the US, an innocent football match with The Cooper Temple Clause ended in disaster when Chris tumbled on concrete, bust his wrist, with the band booked to headline V Festival a week later. A week of intensive rehearsals with Streets/Senseless Things man Morgan Nicholls saved the day.
Raining Blood
Muse sustained many injuries during their 2004 tour, but the bloodiest came on the Big Day Out when playing-with-the-teeth manoeuvre went wrong and Matt found himself spewing forth blood into the front three rows.
Feeling Good
The Nina Simone cover on 'Origin Of Symmetry', wherein every other hilarious metal cover of a pop song was rendered pointless by its sheer, star-spangled majesty.
The bone xylophone
Perhaps thanks to the mushrooms they were downing at the time, second set 'Origin Of Symmetry' saw the band fashion percussion instruments out of human bones. “It was more for acoustics,” said Matt. “I saw a Tom Waits gig and he had this sort of bone type thing which sounded really good. I wanted it for the sound not for the fact it was a human bone.”
The Da Bellamy Code
Muse folklore has always been laced with cryptic messages, but on their 2005 US tour they took it to a new level, placing fake song titles into setlists that became cryptic clues in a worldwide treasure hunt, deciphered using Caesar squares and an M-3 enigma naval simulator. The prize? A, er, bicycle.
Summary: Uh oh! Looks like you came into contact with something in that lab…
Word count: 7.3k
Warnings/Notices: named!reader, violence, fighting, angst (can you guys tell that i love angst), annoying johnny, sexually suggestive, a few curse words here and there
First Chapter / Previous Part / Next Part
A/N: a short(er) chapter yayyy
“What the FUCK!!?” Johnny screamed, his voice echoing around the surrounding hills. He had to take a step back because Jesus Christ… this was the most gruesome thing he had ever seen.
You pushed yourself up off of the ground, taking on a feral fighting stance as you turned to face your terrified companions. What was once a beautiful, human woman was now a Tarkatan beast. When you pricked your finger on that spike in Shang Tsung’s laboratory, it must’ve been laced with that Tarkat infection. Your overheated temperature, your foggy mind, your sudden onslaught of bizarre hunger, all of it was the Tarkat in your system taking hold.
You were growling at them now, baring your large and jagged teeth. Your mind was completely overtaken by the virus running through your body. You didn’t see Johnny and Geras as your partners anymore - no, you now saw them as food.
“Holy-“ Johnny tried to speak but was cut off. A loud, threatening growl from your infected self was enough to make him back up by multiple feet. His eyes were fixed on you. His mind was still trying to comprehend what was currently in front of him, that being… well… you.
You turned to him, taking your time in looking him up and down, eyeing your meal.
“Your blood, I smell ittttt…” You snarled, rolling your head and opening your split, mutated jaw momentarily. “How sweet it will be to lick off my fingerssss…”
This was not the same you that Johnny knew. This wasn’t the same smart, strong-willed woman who argued with him, or went against his words. This was a mindless beast that only desired one thing: his flesh.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God…” He continued backing away, not daring to take his eyes off of you for a second. This has to be a dream, right? It has to be…
Even the horses at the front of the carriage were freaking out, they were visibly stirring in their spot at the sight before them. Geras, however, was still thinking critically. He refused to let his fear overwhelm him. He knew what to do, how to proceed.
“Keep her occupied.” He turned to Johnny, deadly serious. “I know what to do.”
The last thing he expected to hear was that. “Keep her occupied”? How the hell was that going to be possible? But, as terrified and confused as he was, Johnny was trying his best to keep his cool.
“Yeah…yeah, I’ll keep her busy.” He hesitantly nodded, his voice shaky.
With that, Geras quickly walked away, sprinting for behind the carriage, teleporting away in a stream of golden light. He was going back to Sun Do, back to the Palace, to find a cure for the virus in your veins.
Johnny was now left all alone with a Tarkat-crazed you, as scary as it sounded. Taking a page out of Geras’ book, he swallowed his fear and bravely took on a fighting stance, just in case you lunged at him.
And lunge at him you did.
You took out your bō staff, equipping it with a grunt as you rushed to your terrified partner, green streaks flying through the air. Your bō produced a dreadful swinging sound as you aimed for the crown of Johnny’s head, just barely missing.
You were one of Liu Kang’s best assassins. There were a multitude of reasons why he was so fond of you. Your bōjutsu prowess was extraordinary; the Fire God had come across very few people in his long lifespan that exceeded your talents in martial arts. Even with the crazed state that you were currently in, you were still quick, fast and very strong.
For Johnny to see a version of you that still possessed your kombat, but with the strength and ferocity of a Tarkatan, it was frightening, there was no other word for it. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that the monster attacking him was, in fact, you.
Unlike your human self, Tarkatan you fought like a wild animal. You were wildly swinging your staff at your partner, who was just barely able to dodge your incoming attacks. Your bō was coming at him at insane speeds, one end of it slammed into the side of the carriage at one point, the loud clang that emanated from the contact made Johnny literally yelp out in fear. None of the grace or elegance that you always carried was present, the brutality of your bōjustu was in overdrive. Your sole intention was to chop your next meal up into pieces.
He had just dodged one of your swings when an opening presented itself. Instead of counterattacking, he opted to grab your right hand and disarm you. Johnny forcefully loosened your grip on your staff, the weapon dropping to the ground with a slight clang. Not missing a beat, he spun you around and pinned you to the carriage, slamming your body into the wooden wall.
“God…damn it…” He huffed, holding you firmly in place.
“Let… go of me!” You spat out, attempting to crane your head to get a better view of your subduer. You might have been crazed by Tarkat, but he was still larger and physically stronger than you. His grip on your body was iron, your writhing against the vehicle was doing little to waver it.
“Not a chance in hell.” He retorted, strengthing his hold on you as your growls grew more and more animalistic and aggressive. Johnny’s other hand planted itself on your upper back, pushing you further into the carriage side, for both of your safeties.
The thing about this particular variant of Tarkat… is that as the infected grew more enraged, their strength saw an increase. This was something that Shang Tsung didn’t mention in his journal, he likely didn’t even know about this.
Johnny was finding it increasingly harder to keep you pinned to the carriage. You were shifting around more and more, his grip on you was faltering by the second. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before you broke out of his hold entirely.
Looking down, you saw that his foot was close. Taking the opportunity, you brought the heel of your boot down as hard as you could, right in the dead centre of his shoe.
“OW! FUCK!!“ His scream echoed throughout the surrounding scenery, causing the horses to neigh in surprise. The pain now shooting through his veins was too much to ignore, he instinctively held onto his right foot with both hands, hopping up and down in an attempt to mute it.
Ah shit, you were free.
You spun around, your eyes wide and your mind clouded by a thick mist of rage. You took advantage of Johnny’s incapacitation, balling up your fist and punching him square in the nose. His head jerked backwards, a pained yell seeped out through clenched teeth as he tried desperately to stop himself from toppling over. Blood splatters flew in all directions as your knuckles collided with his face, a sickening crunch being produced from the contact.
A fight ensued.
You didn’t even bother to pick up your bō staff that was lying on the ground, you were so crazed that you fought Johnny with nothing but your bare hands. You were wildly clawing at him, managing to scratch his face and draw even more blood a few times. Johnny couldn’t do much but dodge, block and weave your frantic attacks, he didn’t want to fight back and hurt you further.
At one point, you had him by the shoulders as you went for his jugular. Your large mouth opened wide to reveal rows upon rows of jagged, sharp teeth, all screaming for a bite of him. You nearly made contact before he quickly and violently shoved you away, knocking you backwards and sending you crashing into the carriage once again. He looked around for anything that he could use to defend himself against you as he was catching his breath. His eyes practically lit up as they fell on your bō resting in the grass a few feet away, he wasted no time as he scrambled to pick it up.
Johnny was trained in various forms of martial arts, but bōjutsu was not one of them. All he could do was swing the green staff in your vicinity, putting some distance between you and mentally cursing himself for not paying more attention to yourself when you were using it. Damn it, he could’ve actually picked up on something if he paid attention to anyone but himself.
His attempts at fending you off proved futile. You were a master at using the weapon, he was not. Eventually, you kicked your staff out of his hands, your foot hitting the bō with such force that it was knocked clean out of Johnny’s grasp. In one swift kombo, you knocked him down to the ground, picking up your staff again as you moved to stand over him.
“Jade… listen to me… please…” His desperate voice was barely above a whisper, all the wind had been knocked out of his lungs. He was on his back, staring up at you with widened eyes as the paralysing fear of being impaled like a chunk of street meat took hold of him.
You were in no mood to listen. You were ready to strike like a snake as you stared down at him between your legs, snarling ferociously. Primal rage burned in your eyes, your Tarkatan mouth was on full display. Your food had attacked you, what was it thinking? He must die for laying his hands on you like this.
This was it. This was how he was going to go out. His eyes clamped shut, a tear made its way down the side of his face as you raised your staff, intending to deliver a fatal blow. The brace for impact was horrible, but he accepted his fate nonetheless.
It was a surprise when your momentum stopped. Instead of growling, Johnny could hear… struggling? He opened his eyes to see what was happening and smiled. Such an intense wave of relief washed over his being at the sight before him that he couldn’t help but start laughing.
There, holding you in place, was Geras.
“Damn… good timing, old man...” He muttered as he hesitantly sat up, his chest still aching from your impact. A pained but wide smile wove its way onto his cut face, watching as you were being held in a bear hug.
You were no match for Geras. Your strength may be enhanced, but the construct was well over double your size. He even had some height on Johnny, towering over you both every time he was near. He barely even struggled as he contained you, much to your dismay.
He had his arm wrapped around your body, holding you tightly as you writhed and thrashed in his grasp. Using his other arm, he brought up a syringe to your neck and injected you with something. Whatever it was, it affected your crazed self instantaneously. As soon as the needle left your skin, you started to calm, squirming less and less in Geras’s grasp as you fell unconscious. Your limp body was slowly lowered to the ground, your rampage finally coming to an end.
Your nasty Tarkatan features started to dull and disappear. Your sharpened claws fell off, giving way to a set of new, normal fingernails. Your large mouth full of jagged teeth shrunk, your jaw morphing back into your regular face. Your lips came back as the flesh around your mouth returned, all back to normal. The serum he had injected you with was a cure, one that Princess Mileena uses regularly to dull her own respective symptoms.
It was almost as if Johnny was seeing a magic trick in real time, the whole transformation was shocking to watch. One moment, you were a crazed, ravenous animal, and the next… you were you again, the same one as before.
He stood up and walked towards Geras slowly, taking a place right beside him.
“Is she… gonna be alright?” Johnny hesitantly asked, looking down at your unconscious self in wonder.
“She will be fine. The serum that I have injected her with counteracts the Tarkat in her system.” He answered, his grip on the empty vial loosening as the adrenaline within him dissipated.
Geras walked over to the carriage, soothing the horses before opening the door of the vehicle.
“It is in our best interests to get her back to Sun Do as soon as possible, back to Liu Kang.”
Johnny nodded, acknowledging the seriousness of the situation. He turned his attention back to you, unconsciously resting on your back. You looked so peaceful, so normal, with your eyes closed and your chest slowly rising and falling with every breath.
He knelt down, gently picking you up in his arms, bridal style. He cradled you against his chest as he walked over to the carriage, trying his best to ignore the small voice in his head whispering: “So light and beautiful...”
Entering the carriage slowly, he gently laid your body down on the seat across from him, careful not to bump you on anything. It was unclear how long you would be unconscious for, his best bet was to just silently watch over you and hope that you would be okay.
As the carriage took off, Johnny took the opportunity to breathe and let go of the tension he was holding on to. He crashed down in his seat, loudly sighing as his exhausted body slumped against the cushions.
He sat motionless, save for his chest rising and falling with each haggard breath. His eyes were focused on the still unconscious you, his gaze roving across your still face. Seeing you switch from your cold, dignified self to a feral beast was still something that he was comprehending. All of your overwhelming rage and ferocity really shook him, that Baraka-like jaw on you was something that he would definitely be having nightmares about. This calm, docile version before him was no doubt your superior version.
His face hurt like hell, the adrenaline muting the burn of his injuries was starting to wear off. You thankfully didn’t punch him hard enough to fracture his nose, but the pain was still searing. The scratches on his face stung, the deep red marks on his cheeks were starting to make their presence known. He made a mental note to get those wounds checked out when he arrived back in Sun Do. He opened his phone, selecting the camera icon on his screen to fully inspect the damage. Johnny winced as he slowly turned his head to the side, his fingers lightly grazing over his facial wounds, careful not to cause further damage.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
By now, an hour had passed since your little… incident.
The carriage was well on its way to Sun Do, now moving at an increased pace. Geras wished to get you back to Liu Kang as soon as possible, the once slow-moving carriage was now moving noticeably faster.
Johnny had now taken the majority of his attention off of your unconscious form. There wasn’t much he could do with you like this, completely out cold and unresponsive. He was leaned back in his seat, his focus diverted to his phone, occasionally taking his eyes off the screen to peek at your resting self, just to make sure you were alright.
It was during one of these glances that his eyes began to wander down from your face. They slowly trailed along your form, his brain seemingly studying your body. He really did hope that you would be alright. But also…
You were wearing a fairly standard uniform, just like him. It was tight fitting, your breastplate outlining your figure very clearly. He made no effort to stop his gaze from roving over your body, his eyes stopping right on the curve of your-
No! He couldn’t be checking you out right now. You were his partner, for the Gods sake! You’d just come into contact with an incredibly deadly infection, this wasn’t the time to be staring at your… features!
Johnny tried desperately to push his filthy thoughts out of his head, but it would be a lie to say that he didn’t find his eyes and mind wandering every few minutes.
He had just concluded a routine eyeing of you, going right back to his phone. Though, from his peripheral vision, he could see you start to stir. Quickly, he shut his device off and dropped it down beside him, your well-being of much more concern than Instagram. He leaned forward, his arms coming to rest on his knees, his eyes trained on you.
You spent a few moments like this, murmuring and mumbling nonsense as you shuffled around. Then, your eyes slowly opened, now back to their normal colour and shape.
You were awake.
“Where… am… I?” A low groan escaped your lips. Your body ached like you’d just been in a brutal beatdown. Your head was a raging storm and your jaw was throbbing like crazy. It felt like it had just been ripped open or something.
You pushed yourself up, slipping a little as you did so. You weren’t at 100% strength yet, your movements were slow and uncertain. Your vision started to clear, a concerned Johnny coming into focus.
"You're in the carriage. We're headed back to Sun Do." Johnny answered your question, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. He gently helped you up, his hands planted on your upper arms, carefully guiding your movements.
“Johnny…?” Your mind was clearing, but you were still extremely disoriented. From your perspective, the last thing you remembered was you and him heading back to the carriage, the former feeling very unwell. Then it all went black. And now…
“…What happened?”
Looking at you, a mix of emotions welled up inside of Johnny. Concern and worry were the main ones, but he couldn’t deny that he also felt… relief. He couldn't help but feel relieved to hear the sweet and silky tone of your voice, paired with your normal appearance. You finally looked like yourself again.
"You don’t remember anything?" He asked, his tone still gentle. He didn't want to overwhelm you with everything that had transpired in your “absence”, not when you were like this.
The last vestiges of your blurry vision cleared away. Your eyes settling on a busted, scratched-up Johnny really wasn’t a welcome surprise.
“By the Gods, your face!” You recoiled back, a hand clasped over your mouth. Your loud voice of concern echoed around the small confines of the carriage, the bloody state of your partner fully snapping you out of your drowsiness.
“Yeah, you really did a number on me, didn’t you?" He chuckled at your reaction, amused (and maybe a tiny bit flattered) by the worried look on your face. As if he’d let you know that, though.
Now you were confused, as well as both hyper-alert and slightly in pain. A nasty combo. But that wasn’t the point of your focus at the moment. Did… did you do this?
“I… did this? To you?”
“Yeah… uh…” He sighed, his hand coming to rub sheepishly at the back of his head. This was going to be hard, but there was no other way to do this. “You, uh… turned into a Tarkatan… as crazy as it sounds-”
“I what?!” You were shouting now, in total disbelief. Johnny winced at the panic in your voice, recoiling slightly, though you were too in shock to notice.
You looked down at your suit, and your throbbing right hand. Both were stained with blood. Blood that wasn’t there the last time you checked. Your knuckles were aching like you had hit something, or someone…
And that’s when everything started to come back to you. The secret lab, the dead Tarkatan in that cage, Shang Tsung and his notebook, that prick on your finger, your fever, your weird behaviour…
By the Elder Gods.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey, chill out! Chill out…” He tried to calm you down, his hands coming to rest on your knees, his thumb caressing the material underneath. "It’s okay, you’re okay now."
Your eyes remained lowered for a few moments, your breathing heavy. The past hour was still something you were attempting to process. The realisation that you did indeed attack Johnny, and presumably Geras, sank in. It made you feel so incredibly guilty. You couldn’t help it, those injuries on his face looked so painful. The injuries that you caused.
“…I am truly sorry for attacking you.” You finally spoke up, looking up to lock eyes with him. Your usually cold eyes were now warm with guilt, shining with remorse.
He shook his head gently. "Hey, that wasn’t your fault. That bastard Shang Tsung infected you. You weren’t in control of yourself, you can’t blame yourself for something you didn’t even do."
“No, this was my fault. I didn’t take the proper safety measures to ensure that nothing from that underground facility was transferred to me. Whatever happened was a result of my carelessness.”
As well as regret, a wave of embarrassment washed over you. How could you be so careless like that? Of course that prick was going to mean something. Johnny’s going to think that you’re totally incompetent now, and when Geras tells Liu Kang all about what happened he’ll most likely kick you out of the Wu Shi, then you’ll be homeless again and-
The overwhelming amount of paranoid thoughts started to prove too much. Your jaw clenched as you brought up a hand to your eye, an effort to fight back the tears behind your closed lids.
“Jade, hey, hey…” Johnny placed a hand on your leg, trying to keep you grounded. His voice was soft, he couldn’t bear seeing you like this. “It wasn’t your fault, okay? It could have happened to anyone."
You took a shaky breath in and a precarious breath out. Whatever you were about to do, it was NOT cry in front of Johnny. You did what you’ve always done after taking a moment to compose yourself: push your emotions back down.
You once again met Johnny’s gaze. Your eyes were slightly wet with tears - for some reason, you were expecting him to be judgemental of you and your fuck-up. But no, instead, you were met with a look of compassion. Despite all that you had done, he was still making the effort to console you. It was heartwarming.
“…Thank you for your words.”
"You don’t have to thank me. I just don’t like seeing you blame yourself for something that you have no control over." He smiled at you, his soft and caring gaze locked on your face as he leaned back.
For the first time in like, ever, you returned his smile with a warmer one of your own. You were genuinely smiling at him. Being comforted by Johnny Cage was not something you thought was going to happen today. And yet… it did.
The sight of your smile nearly made Johnny’s heart explode, his own smile widening in turn.
“You’re alright, Houzuki.”
The small smile on your face widened. You had to look down a little, to hide the sheepish smirk daring to form. You hated it, this weird effect he had over you. You despised the way your cheeks reddened at his praise, how that warm feeling would sliver through your belly when you looked at his carved features for a little too long. It was all so… ugh.
“Thank you, Cage.” You looked back up, meeting his gaze once more.
He cleared his throat, smirking a little. "You know... you're more bearable when you're smiling. You should do it more often."
“The ‘you should smile more’ line doesn’t have the effect that you think it does.” You scoffed, leaning back in your seat.
“Oh, is that so? Then what about, ‘You look way better when you don’t have that stick stuck up your ass’?"
The smile on your face grew into a laugh, the sound making his skin prickle.
“You’re a prick, you know that?”
"Hey, it got you to laugh, didn't it?" He laughed again, the warm feeling in his chest growing a little more intense.
Fuck, Johnny’s charm was actually starting to work on you. The way he was so casually leaning back, hair messy and elbow resting on his propped-up knee, it all had unwanted demons stirring deep within your core. Damn him and his stupid picturesque features!
Though, as you were looking at Johnny, you did start to take note of his facial injuries. All the blood on the space between his nose and upper lip was dried by this point; there was so much that it was a wonder how his nose wasn’t broken. And all those deep scratches… Gods, they looked so sore.
The smile on your face slowly turned into a frown, your guilt from a few minutes ago making its return. It was… terrible to see him like this. You felt really bad. Despite being an assassin, the sight of all that dried blood under his nose actually made you feel a little sick. It wasn’t right, no matter how much of a nuisance he was.
In turn, Johnny rolled his eyes and groaned, knowing full well what was on your mind.
"It's all right, darlin’. Don't worry about this." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, a failed attempt to clean the dried blood off of his face.
“That doesn’t matter…” You mumbled, lowering your head out of guilt. “...I’m sorry.”
"I told you. It's fine. No need to apologise." He retorted, now a little incensed.
Your self-wallowing came to a halt when you felt a light squeeze on your hand. You looked up to see Johnny leaning forward, his large hand covering yours. The sympathetic look in his eyes was hard to ignore, there was something about it that had your remorse melt away.
"Stop beating yourself up, Jade. It wasn’t your fault." He gently squeezed your hand, the callouses on his palm rough against your skin.
You once again smiled at his reassurance, and the weight on your shoulders eased. You couldn’t remember the last time someone was this kind to you. It was nice, no matter who it came from.
The seeds of your crush on Johnny Cage were now sown.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Hours had passed, it was the peak of night. The evening had come and gone; Outworld was now shrouded in darkness.
The carriage had reached Sun Do, a result of its quickened speed. The city’s streets were empty, not a soul was in sight. However, unlike Kakariko Village, all of the residents were here and well, they were just still sleeping soundly in their homes. Geras slowed the horses upon entry of the city’s gates; he was quietly steering the vehicle along the cobblestone roads.
In the distance, the soft clip-clop of horse hooves broke through the lunar silence, growing louder as the carriage emerged from behind buildings. The vehicle was parked right outside of Liu Kang’s estate, Geras hopping down from the front seat and tending to the animals before making his way over to the carriage interior.
Inside, Johnny was fast asleep. The pain of his facial injuries were temporarily dulled whilst he was unconscious, deep in a dreamless sleep. Light snores came from him as his chest rose and fell with each breath. You, however, were wide awake. You couldn’t sleep, you weren’t even the slightest bit tired. Whether it was the medicine in your veins, or the fact that you were still processing the day you had, wasn’t known to you. You were sat up, your attention on the dark world outside.
You grew bored of looking at Sun Do’s empty streets, as well as being tormented by your own thoughts. Without thinking, you turned to the side, towards a sleeping Johnny.
He looked so peaceful when he was resting, it was hard not to be captivated by the view. The carriage’s pink lights once again highlighted his gorgeous features, but they also illuminated his injuries. You couldn’t help but feel a sliver of guilt again when you focused on his scratched face. This wasn’t your fault, and you understood that, but… maybe you could’ve been more careful in that lab.
Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the carriage stopping. Not long after, you were met with the sight of Geras opening the door, his glowing blue eyes cutting through the darkness. The two of you locked eyes for a few seconds, not a word exchanged. He looked down to a sleeping Johnny, then back at an awake you. The construct waited for you to gather your bearings back before speaking up.
“Jade. It is good to see that you are well. We have arrived back in Sun Do; we are outside Liu Kang’s manor.”
You nodded, turning to face Johnny as you stood up. You leaned over his sleeping body, lightly shaking him, not wanting to be too rough with his unconscious form.
“Johnny… wake up…” Your voice was a whisper above his ear. The feeling of his hard bicep under your palms made that warm feeling sprout in your stomach again, but you ignored that for now.
“Hm...?” He opened his eyes, his voice groggy and thick with fatigue. You leaned back as he slowly sat up, examining his surroundings before looking back at you.
“We’re back in Sun Do.” Your voice was soft, but firm. The sleepy look on his face was really cute, it had you biting back a smile. “We’re outside Liu Kang’s estate.”
“Sweet…” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
Geras saw that you both were on the move and stood to the side to let you two out. You grabbed Shang Tsung’s notebook beside your hip and quietly exited the vehicle, shivering a little at the cold night.
In contrast, Johnny lazily and recklessly stumbled out of the carriage. He loudly yawned and dramatically stretched his limbs once he was standing. He would never get used to sleeping in that damn carriage.
After you finished your silent judgment of your companion’s behaviour, you turned to face Geras.
“Geras, I would like to apologise for what happened, back at the village. I am sorry if I happened to attack you.” Your voice was sincere, your tone remorseful.
He listened to your apology, not saying a word. His expressionless eyes pierced through you, making you feel a little uneasy. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just staring at you blankly. Eventually, Geras gave you a small nod.
“Rest assured, Jade. I know that you were not in control of yourself. You were under the control of Tarkat; you do not need to apologise. None of your actions were done by you of your own free will.”
You smiled at his words, a wave of relief washing over you. After a few moments, Geras spoke up. He pulled something from behind his back, handing the item to you.
“Here is your bō staff. You dropped it during your frenzy. I have kept it safe for you throughout our journey.”
A small noise of surprise came from you. You were wondering where that thing went!
“Thank you.” You graciously took the compacted staff from his hands, strapping it to your hip.
Geras nodded at you again, and then both you and him turned your attentions towards Johnny.
He was leaning against the carriage, his arms crossed to his chest. He looked bored, to say the least. He didn’t bother to listen to what you two were conversing about, none of your words centred around him so why should he care? He yawned as he glanced to the side impatiently, his eyes wandering around the empty city.
“Now, the both of you must see Liu Kang immediately. Tell him of what has happened, of your findings. And then, you two must seek urgent medical attention.” He told you.
“Of course.” You nodded. You turned around to face Johnny, gesturing for him to follow you as you walked through the gates, towards the entrance of the manor.
You strolled up to the front door, the sound of your boots heels against the cobblestone clicking through the quiet of the night. He was right behind you, trying to keep his eyes forward and not on your... lower half. The effort to keep his gaze up was really harder than it should be.
Not that you noticed. You leaned forward a little and rapped your knuckles on the door, the sound slightly echoing around the front porch and the interior of the large building.
A few moments of silence passed by. The only audible thing was the occasional breeze. Then, the sounds of footsteps were heard inside the manor. The door creaked open, although it wasn’t Liu Kang. One of his servants was on the other side, greeting you both with a bright smile.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
“…And he had constructed this laboratory underneath the village library.” You explained, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face.
Both you and Johnny had long since made your way inside, you two were now debriefing Liu Kang of all that had been found during your time away, as well as you both receiving the medical attention that you needed.
A few more doses of Mileena’s suppressant were estimated to permanently eradicate the infection from your system, the nurse predicted. An injection every day for the remainder of the week should clear up any lingering traces of the virus, thank the Gods.
Johnny, meanwhile, was receiving dressing for his scratches. The cold ointment against the open wounds made him wince a little on contact, the substance stinging against his skin, making him grip the sofa arm. It was nothing major, according to the nurse. Only a few flesh wounds, nothing that would harbour anything long-lasting.
Despite the late hour, Liu Kang was more than happy to see you two, and hear about all that the two found during their time away. He was listening intently as you both gave your own reports. His face was stern, his features giving no indication as to what he was thinking.
“It was… filthy. Completely covered with viscera and grime. This laboratory was where he was conducting his twisted experiments.” You carried on, shifting in your seat as your mind unwillingly replayed the day’s memories.
“And you say he was conducting experiments on villagers with this Tarkat infection?” Liu Kang queried, to which you nodded at.
“Shang Tsung was using the villagers as live test subjects, unconsenting guinea pigs for his vile work.”
His expression was as serious as ever, his eyes held a certain intensity as they scanned over you and Johnny. He let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back in his chair as he rubbed at his forehead with two fingers.
“Geras told me of how this… infection took hold of you. Is this true?” He was careful with his words, his tone incensed.
“Yes… it is.” You looked down for a minute, ashamed once again as you fiddled with your fingers. It was horrible to know that you were mutated into little more than a wild beast. Your skin crawled as you thought of all the damage that you could’ve potentially inflicted.
Liu Kang’s face remained neutral, but eyes held a sliver of pity. He was looking at you two with an almost cold intensity, as if he was trying to make up his mind about something. He shifted his gaze to Johnny, the fire god’s gaze hardening as he looked at him.
“And you.” Johnny’s spine visibly stiffened as Liu Kang addressed him. “Were you also infected?” Liu Kang’s tone was stern, his white eyes were staring Johnny down in his seat.
“Ah, no… no, I wasn’t infected, boss.” He meekly responded, his composure faltering under the crushing weight of Liu Kang’s intense stare, a stare that he couldn’t meet for more than a few seconds.
The way Liu Kang was glaring him down with such intensity even made you feel a little uncomfortable. It’s almost like he was mad or something, like he was silently chastising Johnny for not being by your side in the lab.
“Lord Liu Kang, my infection was in no way Johnny’s fault.” Your voice broke through the rather tense silence, much to Johnny’s surprise. “It was the result of my own carelessness; I apologise for not taking the proper safety measures when searching through that laboratory.”
You turned to Johnny and gave him a small smile.
It was mostly unnoticeable, but Liu Kang’s stern expression subsided when he saw you smile at Johnny like that. His eyebrows raised at the small sign of courtesy you showed. This was completely unexpected, for both of the men.
After a bit, you turned your attention away from Johnny and back towards Liu Kang. As you shifted in your seat, you felt Shang’s journal in your pocket, pushing up against your hip. Damn it, you’d forgotten to show Liu Kang one of the most important things you’d recovered.
“Oh! I also found this.” You took out the journal from your pocket and leaned forward, handing it to him.
Liu Kang’s eyebrows shot up once again at this. He took the book from you and opened it up. His eyes were glued to the ink staining the pages, his interest fully piqued by what was inside.
By the Elder Gods, it was much worse than he thought. His eyes widened upon each turn of a page, his brows furrowing at the onslaught of information. After a few minutes of reading, the book closed to reveal the astonishment all over his face. His white eyes were wide with shock, processing what was just before them. He sat in silence for a few minutes, before looking up to speak to you both.
“This is much worse than I thought. To know that Shang Tsung and General Shao are collaborating is extremely concerning.”
He ran a hand down his face, sighing deeply. Shang Tsung and General Shao’s alliance was not only unexpected, but a possible catastrophe. Liu Kang felt a cold sense of dread start to creep up on him, caused by the knowledge that the sorcerer and the disgraced general had joined forces. The two of them together were such a potent force to be reckoned with; the danger they posed to Outworld and the other realms was immense.
But all of that is for another time. Right now, it is important that you and Johnny rest. All of this can be dealt with once the sun is up.
Liu Kang stood up, pocketing the journal for further study. He turned to you both, a small smile on his face.
“Thank you for your work, both of you. I am pleased to see the two of you work well together.”
You smiled, beaming with pride. “I am in your service, Lord Liu Kang.”
“Yeah, you’re welcome or whatever.” Johnny was less graceful with his response, something that earned a judgemental side eye from you.
Liu Kang almost rolled his eyes, but considering you and him have been making progress, the fire god decided to let his usual snark slide… for now, at least.
“Now, please retire to your rooms. After the ordeal that the two of you have been through, some rest is in order.” He placed a fist and an open hand together, and did his typical bow. He then made his way over to the door of his study, opening it and gesturing for you both to exit.
The doors of his study shut quietly once you two had departed. Soon, you and Johnny were the only souls in the hallway.
Both of your respective chambers were in the same direction, meaning that you two were now walking side by side on their way to your rooms. The halls of Liu Kang’s manor were deserted, save for the occasional cleaner every now and then. Everyone was asleep, resting in their own quarters. Both of your footsteps echoed throughout the empty halls, cutting through the silence of the mansion.
“Hey, Jade.” Johnny suddenly spoke up, his voice shattering the silence.
You turned to face him, your pace slightly slowing.
“Yes, Johnny?”
“You did good, y’know? You were great back at that village.” He gave you a smile, his eyes dilating at how beautiful you looked in the hallway’s candlelight.
“Thank you.” His praise made you smile back, your face felt warm at his kind words.
He spoke again after a few moments. “What, not gonna say I did good too?”
You scoffed and shook your head. It’s almost like this man needed to have his ego stroked, like a fish needs to be in water. Admittedly, it was as amusing as it was annoying.
“Considering I both found the secret laboratory and the journal, I think I’ll refrain for now.”
“I’m wounded, Jade. Wounded. You don’t think I contributed at all?” Johnny feigned a look of exaggerated offence. He put a hand over his heart, a look of theatrical hurt crossing his face.
“Maybe on the next mission assigned to us, you’ll have a more significant role?”
“Next time, hm?” He was grinning, crossing his arms across his chest. It was nice, hearing you finally treat him like an equal, rather than some piece of trash.
“I think next time, you’ll be the useless one, and I’ll be saving both our asses.”
You scoffed again because, yeah, right! As if that would happen. So far, on your assigned excursions, you’ve been the MVP. You located that machine back at the pyramid AND you uncovered the true story of Kakariko Village’s depopulation. Johnny was just… there. Like the piece of eye candy he is.
You had no more time to think about that, though. Eventually, you two reached a corner of the manor. On the left side was the rest of the way to Johnny’s room. On the right side, the rest of the way to your room. This is where you both say goodnight.
“That’s your room?” He pointed down the hall to the right, to your door. You nodded in reply.
“Alright, then. See ya tomorrow, partner.” His eyes lit up as the words left him, like he had an idea. Slowly, he leaned in closer, his voice low and sultry.
“…Unless you wanna spend the night with me?”
Alright. Once again, Johnny had pushed his luck too far. His dumb comment wiped the tiny smile off of your face, like an eraser to a whiteboard.
“Goodnight, Cage.” You muttered as you turned away and walked off, headed for your room.
Johnny just laughed, the sound ringing in your ears. He called out to you one last time, his voice loud and obnoxious.
“Sweet dreams, dollface!”
You ignored him as you walked down the corridor, resisting the urge to raise your hand and flip him off. You’d hit your Johnny Cage limit for today, any more interaction with this man might just finish you off.
You closed your door behind you with a sigh; you were so grateful to be back in your room. You smiled as you set your sight on your bed. After everything that had happened in the past 24 hours, finally being able to rest felt amazing.
You kicked off your boots and discarded your suit in a corner somewhere. Showering was out of the question, you were too damn tired. You lazily slipped on a nightdress that you found in your wardrobe. The pain from Geras’s injection earlier still somewhat lingered, you winced every now and then as you changed. Oh well, nothing a good night’s sleep can’t fix.
You slipped under your covers and pretty much fell asleep in a few minutes. Your warm, soft bed felt a million times better than those firm carriage seats. A deep, dreamless sleep awaited you, greeting your mind as it slipped from reality.
A/N: i have nothing to say 🧍♀️thanks for reading xoxo
I've been working on my Lydia Character Study this week, and I am proud to say that I've completed the first part of this next section :)
The title of this story is "Home." It picks up right where "Seeking" left off and follows Lydia as she navigates the first few weeks of living back at home with her parents, who might as well be strangers.
You can find the other sections of the character study here!
As always, thank you for reading! I really appreciate it ❤️
Story under the cut.
Home: Part One
Grass. Cattle in the pasture. Rolling hills. A small wooden cottage. Warm sun creeping on skin.
Crestwood.
They hug her for a long time. Longer than anyone has ever hugged her at once, now that she thinks of it. Still, she can’t bring herself to hug them back. It’s just too weird. How can they recognize and accept her after only a moment’s meeting? She can’t shake the feeling that she should know them more than she does. She tries to fill in the blanks left from years behind the Circle’s walls. As if in response, they squeeze her tighter, warmth filling her body with a feeling she can’t quite place. Just a few weeks ago, they were nonexistent, living only as the perpetrators of her existence, far away from conscious thought. Just a few weeks ago, she was studying her lightning magic, worrying about her next lesson. Running. Killing. Smashing her phylactery. Wandering. She resigns to keep her eyes focused on the direction she just came from. No one has followed her. No one has come to chase her down. That’s… good.
When they finally let her go, they invite her inside. It sounds more like a demand than a request, but it’s tinged with a softness, and neither the man nor the woman… er… neither her father nor her mother, makes any attempts to grab her. She stills, regardless, looking up at the tiny wooden cottage that suddenly seems to be a great castle, and she trembles. Her voice is small, throat dry, as she tells her parents that she’d like to sit outside. This gives them pause, and they exchange glances with one another. They’re still sniffling from the whole ordeal. She takes a cautionary step back, half expecting them to advance on her and force her inside, but they don’t. Instead, they continue to stare at her in steady disbelief. Her mother looks her up and down, taking in the filthy robes, the torn hem, the wrapped ankle. She bursts into tears again, shifting in place like she wants to throw herself at her daughter, but she doesn’t. Her father, the man with her eyes, holds her mother. He nods back to her, not daring to look at the filthy robes, and tells her with a shaky voice to take all the time she needs, and that she’s welcome inside when she’s ready. Her heart skips at that. Welcome? Ready? She’s never heard those words aimed at her before. Well, not without sarcasm. She doesn’t respond. Instead, she lets her gaze drop from theirs, taking a chance, and sits on the ground.
Her father leads her mother inside and returns shortly thereafter. He continues his work on the logs. The sudden, sharp sounds make her wince at first, but after a while, they fade into the background. He doesn’t speak to her, and she wonders if she’s done something wrong. No. She remembers his words. Welcome. Ready. It makes her think of Rohan and how he threatened her. She wonders where he and the others are now. Did they make it to Andoral’s Reach already? Are they all there, fighting for their freedom, yet still not at their own mercy? Thinking about them makes her chest ache, but she doesn’t know if it’s because she misses them or if she’s still hurt from Rohan hitting her with that ice boulder.
Huh. Now that she thinks about it, she hasn’t really taken the time to assess her injuries. As she stares down the path, watching her father make his way to his next task, she feels the weight of her legs. She hadn’t stopped running, not really, not since that night at the Circle… But that’s done now. It’s over. Or… is it? Yes, she thinks so. She realizes she hasn’t felt anything but looming dread since that afternoon, only hours before things boiled over at Kinloch Hold. She can remember after that clearly, though it also all feels blurred together. Her shoulder still burns from the bear attack. She healed it, yes, but it turns out that when a person is sleep deprived, starving, has just finished surviving an attack, and is already shit at healing spells, they don’t do as good a job as they think they did in the moment. Her ankle throbs, too. She knows she didn’t heal that one properly. She’d been pushing it for days now in favor of making it to Crestwood. Now that she’s here, her ankle is crying out in delayed protest. Maker, she’s parched, too. She supposes she can go inside and ask for a drink, but she doesn’t know if her mother can yet lay eyes on her without crying. Did she pass a pond on her way here? A lake? Oh, a lake, yes… she’s come quite far. The travel took such a long time. It’s hard to believe that she made it. That she hadn’t drowned. That Rohan hadn’t… or the bear… No. Enough of that. She watches her father in the distance, forcing normalcy on a day that is anything but. He’s tending the cattle. Part of her wants to join him, to help, to ask what names the beasts have. But instead, she sits and watches. She wonders if she used to know this farm like the back of her hand, and if she can know it again.
Hours pass before she finally decides to get up. Her father is on his way back up the path, and she figures she’ll enter the cottage with him. The sun dips behind him and below the hills. She straps her bag to her back, her scant belongings shifting inside, and her gaze meets his. He smiles at her, eyes filled with affection she feels she doesn’t deserve. It’s almost shy, actually, like he hadn’t clung to her for dear life just this morning. He asks her if she’s ready, and she nods. Together, they walk up the stairs and inside.
The cottage is snug. The kitchen is in front of her, and a large cauldron is bubbling over the lit hearth. To her right is a cozy-looking couch and a fireplace. There’s a worn rug on the floor, and she wonders if she ever sat on it as a child. Tools are scattered about, but the table near the kitchen is clear. To her left is a staircase. She wonders where it leads, but she doesn’t dare ask.
Her mother is shuffling around in the kitchen, preparing dinner. She flinches as the door closes behind her husband and daughter, but she doesn’t turn to look at them. Her shoulders are clearly shaking.
Her father is much more relaxed. He kicks his boots off and walks towards her mother. It’s an interesting sight. She stands there, hands clenching and unclenching in her robes, watching as her father cautiously touches her mother, gentle fingers gripping trembling shoulders. He whispers to her. Watching the two of them together makes her breath quicken, and she suddenly feels like an intruder in their space, peeking in on a life she was never meant to see. Is her mother disappointed? Is she not what she hoped? Had she thought herself rid of her mage daughter, only for the little blight to reappear on her doorstep?
Apparently not. Her mother finally turns to her. Her eyes are swollen, her skin pale, her nose and cheeks bright red. Tears are still streaming down her face and dripping off her chin. Nevertheless, she offers a smile.
“Lydia,” She says. It’s soft, gentle, and heavy with the struggle of not being choked out in a sob.
“...Yes?”
“Would you like to take a bath, darling? Supper is almost ready.”
Darling. Lydia’s stomach flips again at the familiarity of her mother’s address, and she is suddenly overcome with the desire to share in it. She looks down at herself. Her clothes are nearly unrecognizable from all the dirt. Her hands are cut and filthy. She realizes her shoes are torn, too. She can only imagine what the rest of her looks like. Meeting her mother’s gaze again, she nods slowly.
The washroom is small, and there’s a bin in the center that is large enough for someone to sit in. It’s nothing like the bathing room in the Circle, with its brass tubs magically heated by runes. The wooden bin is filled with steaming water, nonetheless, and Lydia realizes just how eager she is for a bath. Her mother is in the room with her, holding a towel and a set of clothes.
“These should fit you, hopefully. Tell me if they don’t, okay?”
“Okay.” Lydia lets her hair down from its braid, curls matted and thick against her neck. Working on the outer layer of her robes, she looks around again and then back to her mother.
“Where will you sit?” Lydia asks. This seems to stun her.
“I’m sorry?”
“Where will you sit, to keep watch?” She asks again.
“Were you… Often watched while you bathed?” Tears spring from her mother’s eyes again. Lydia doesn’t know what she said wrong; it’s not really a big deal.
“We were watched at all times, for our protection… I’m sorry…” Her mother trembles, trying to keep her composure. Lydia continues to undress.
“You don’t need to apologize, darling. I can… Sit with you, if you’d like. You’re allowed to be on your own, too…”
Lydia’s robes are off now, and she stands in her underclothes. She considers for a moment. Alone?
“I can be alone?” She asks cautiously, hoping that it’s the correct answer.
“Yes, if you prefer.”
“Well… I would like to be alone, then, please. If that’s okay with you. Please.”
Her mother lays the clothes and towel by the bin, tears falling onto dry fabric as she clears her throat.
“Yes, of course,” she says, losing the battle against her composure, “Call for me if you need something.”
“I will, thank you.”
Her mother shuts the door, gently, and Lydia can hear the muffled sobs on the other side.
Alone.
No one to watch her.
Sinking into the water, Lydia realizes it went cold while she and her mother spoke. She taps the pool of mana within her, using a fire spell that has become well-practiced in the last few weeks, and heats it to a suitable temperature. There would be no one to chastise her for doing so. She is alone.
The clothes fit well enough, and Lydia is relieved by the brush of clean linen against her skin. She looks at her Circle robes, which are crumpled on the ground. Torn. Bloodied. Scorched. She should fold them. Wash them. But her arms won’t reach for them. Honestly, if she never saw them again, it would be too soon. Still, she grabs them, pinching rancid fabric between exhausted fingers. It wouldn’t do to leave the task to her mother. Holding them again sends a chill down her spine. It’s been a lifetime of these robes, blue to mark her status as an apprentice in the Circle. She supposes no one will care about what color she wears anymore. Right now it’s a simple white tunic. Brown trousers. Hmm.. She’s never worn trousers before. It’s odd. It’s as freeing as it is terrifying.
When she steps out of the washroom, the scent of her mother’s cooking makes her stomach whine. Her father is taking a fresh loaf of bread out of the oven while her mother bustles around, setting the table. They both look at her when she approaches, fixed smiles on their faces so instant that they seem planned. Eyes snap to the robes in her hands. Her mother pauses, but her father steps forward, gesturing to them.
“I can take those, if you’d like.”
Lydia clutches the filthy robes tighter. As reluctant as she was to pick them up from the washroom floor just moments ago, these robes have still been part of her for as long as she can remember. To have them taken… to lose a piece of herself. No. She thinks of the large chamber. The shattered glass on the floor. The label on her phylactery. The tether snapping as she threw it to the ground. She had never felt so free in her life, or so exposed. Here, in this small cottage, she is happy to have smashed it. She hands him the robes, and he smiles carefully. He takes it from her slowly, as though giving her the chance to retreat, to pull the old chain tight against her chest, but she doesn’t. Once it’s out of her hands, she lets out a breath. He takes it outside and shuts the door behind him.
Dinner is…quiet. Honestly, Lydia didn’t know what to expect. Her parents look at her every so often, their faces still quite puffy from the crying. They seem to be exhausted. Lydia supposes she can’t blame them. Sitting here with them now, two people whom she, until a few weeks ago, didn’t know existed, in a town she couldn’t fathom being from; well, just the thought of it exhausts her greatly. Had they thought of her all these years? Have they looked over the hills, waiting for the small chance that she might appear and make her way towards them? Did the Maker bless them then, this morning, when their fantasies finally came true? Hmmm…. She doesn’t ask them. She doesn’t know what she might say that would set them off. The way their gazes linger on her, though, trying to make it seem like they aren’t staring, she figures they might feel as though they’re looking at a ghost. Perhaps the Maker did bless them.
They don’t ask her questions, and she doesn’t ask any in return. She wonders if they heard about the Circle falling. Or, if they’re wondering how one fifteen-year-old, who has been locked in a tower from the age of five, could navigate the Fereldan wilds as she did? With a fuck ton of walking, that’s how. In any case, they’re pleasant. Once Lydia finishes her plate (blessed food hitting her belly for the first time in days), her mother immediately fixes her a second helping. Lydia hesitates, wondering if eating so much in one sitting would make her seem greedy, but her mother just smiles.
“You must be starving,” she says.
“Go on, pup,” her father adds, and her heart jumps, “eat as much as you like, we have plenty.”
Lydia hesitates for a moment more. That night, at the old woman’s house, Lydia had devoured her meals so quickly without any consideration of what she might be eating. She was an animal. Some rabid stray. She’d disappeared into the woods just as quickly as she’d come into the town, scurrying into the shadows and away from the first person who’d shown her kindness. She took from her without remorse. She thanked her, yes, but in the moment, desperation ruled her. She didn’t care that she might’ve denied the old woman her own meals. She wonders now if she had. Her heart sinks.
“Thank you,” Lydia finally murmurs after another moment of silence, looking down at her plate. She remembers that, while the old woman had helped her, she had also sent her away. Shelter was brief. Comfort was fleeting. Then, she was back in the elements. The bear… The thought of running into another one, should she be sent away again, terrifies her. Will she survive a second time? Might as well push her luck. “I appreciate you letting me stay here this evening.”
There’s a pause, and Lydia half expects them to confirm her fears. Instead, they exchange looks.
“This evening? No.. there’s no need to thank us, darling,” her mother says, “all these years…”
“We are… so… so happy to have you back home with us, Lydia, for good.” Her father says.
Home. It’s nothing she ever thought a glass vial of her blood could give to her.
Her mother brushes her away when she offers to help clean up after dinner. She was used to helping out back at the Circle, even though the Tranquil usually took care of things. But, no. Her mother insists that she’ll clean up just fine on her own, though it’s her father who ends up cleaning after them while her mother dresses for sleep. Lydia watches her father wash the dishes. He hums as he completes the task. She wonders if he’s always done that.
“Where will I be allowed to sleep?” Lydia asks as he dries his hands.
“Allowed?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow. Oh no. Another incorrect answer. She braces herself, but he doesn’t yell, nor does he strike her. In fact, he doesn’t tense at all. “Lydia,” he says, and she straightens, “you can sleep wherever you feel most comfortable.”
“Oh,” she starts looking around. Maybe the couch? Or the rug?
He watches her as she discreetly gazes around the cottage, trying not to seem too eager to lie down.
“You can sleep in your bedroom, if you want,” he says. Now his shoulders tense. Lydia can tell he regrets offering it. She doesn’t know why. Regardless, he doubles down, pointing up. “It’s upstairs.”
“...Okay.”
When her mother returns, the three of them go up the creaky old steps. Lydia trails them, noticing how they tremble as they go. Are they in a rush, or are they trying to stall? Lydia doesn’t know. This pace is very confusing to her. When they reach the top of the steps, Lydia can see a single door in the center of a small hallway. They pause at the sight of it, just staring. They seem frozen in place, and Lydia stands there, bag slung over her shoulder. Their reluctance to move forward reminds her of her own just a few weeks prior, watching the other mages pack for Andoral’s Reach while she tried to rationalize it in her head. She won’t push her mother and father. She won’t turn her back on them. She refuses to abandon them.
They seem hyperaware of her presence behind them, though. Clearing his throat, her father steps forward. His fingers tremble on the wooden door as he pushes it open.
The bedroom is dark and covered, floor to ceiling, in dust and cobwebs– a shadow of a life once lived. They both tremble, her mother and father, as they step inside. Lydia supposes she understands why. To the right is a small bed. Lovely hand-knitted sheets with little flowers tenderly stitched on them. A stuffed mabari with stitches all about its body. It appears to have been well-loved, once. Wooden animal figurines are strewn about the floor. This must have once been her bed and toys, before the Circle, but she can’t remember them.
To the left is another bed, a bit larger. There’s a wooden sword next to it, as well as a shield. A brother, perhaps? Lydia hadn’t seen anyone besides her parents today. Could he be grown, moved out of the house, or…?
She thinks of how her parents looked at her during dinner. They stared like they’d been looking at a ghost. Now, here they are, trembling so, as though they hadn’t dared enter this room in years. Judging by the state of it, Lydia is certain that’s the truth. She wonders how long she’d been a ghost to them before proving herself real. She wonders how long her brother has been a ghost to them, too.
Her mother turns to her first, terror at allowing her child to see the room in such a state evident on her face. Was she expecting the room to look clean and pleasant after years of neglect? Her hands are on Lydia, holding her and leading her out of the room. Only her father remains, staring at the ghosts left behind for years.
“You’ll sleep on the couch tonight. Your father and I will clean your room for you tomorrow.”
“I can help–”
“That’s alright, darling. Leave it to us.”
Lydia doesn’t protest as her mother leads her back down the stairs. She settles on the couch, warmer and softer than any cave or Circle mattress. Her father doesn’t come back downstairs. Her mother brings her some sheets and lays them down beside Lydia. She seems desperate to touch her, to tuck her in, to provide a kiss that once, years ago, on that first lonely night in the Circle, was expected but never delivered. She doesn’t, though. She clenches her hands at her nightgown, instead.
They say their goodnights, pleasant and carefully hiding everything left unsaid for a decade. Then, after telling her not to hesitate to wake her if anything, her mother disappears into her room, and Lydia, curling up under soft sheets, finds herself in the sweetest sleep she might ever have had in her life.
No grave can hold my body down; I'll crawl home to her
chapter 7
Read it on AO3
Chapter 8
Sevika drags you out of bed far earlier than you appreciate. Once she’s certain you’re not going to fall asleep standing up, Sevika thrusts breakfast in your hands and drags you outside in pursuit of a local coffee stand. She has made (slightly burnt) scrambled eggs and toast, which you eat on your way to her bees as the sun yawns awake on the horizon. Once at the coffee stand, she buys herself two coffees – why on Earth she needed two was beyond you – and buys you the beverage you pick out (at her insistence). She is not persuaded by your argument that she shouldn’t waste her money on you. After all three drinks were finished being made, Sevika kept walking, trying to avoid the hustle and bustle of the early morning crowd waking up for patrols and important jobs.
Unlike yourself, Sevika is wide awake, fully dressed and walking as if she’s been awake for hours. You trudge behind her, rubbing your eyes and yawning, doing your best to keep up with her as the two of you reach the town’s perimeter fence. The guards let you pass through after checking you were armed, and you stumble out into the open valley. After spending the last few days enclosed by reassuring metal walls, the endless expanse of nature is almost daunting. You stop for a moment, gazing out across the rolling hills that meld into mountains on all sides. Scattered throughout the valley are several farms and ranches – they take up far more land than is available in the settlement, and the open fields of the mountains allow them to expand as far as they’d like. You can see goats, cattle, sheep and pigs scattered throughout the fields, along with various crops, mainly corn, wheat, carrots and potatoes. Though, none have human dwellings on them – all members of Zaun sleep inside the fence, safe from the infected.
“Come on, this way,” Sevika grunts, taking your hand and steering you off to the left.
“It’s very pretty out here – I didn’t expect there to be so much,” you comment as you follow after her, slowly intertwining your fingers with hers. She doesn’t pull away, but she does hesitate for a moment before relaxing her hand.
“Need it all, have to support everyone somehow. You’d be surprised how many cows you need for milk. Especially when almost half the population runs off of coffee grown in a jerry-rigged greenhouse,” Sevika says, her head on a swivel for any infected.
“Is the milk… pasteurized?” you ask tentatively. Drinking raw milk had been resurging before the world ended, and you are well aware of the many reasons it should be pasteurized. Pasteurization is an important process that removes deadly bacteria from the milk as the udders are rather close to the cow’s waste excrement orifices. You were not about to survive the apocalypse only to die to bird flu (or worse).
“Yeah,” Sevika grunts. She doesn’t elaborate more for a beat, as if expecting you to be well versed in the subject already. As if she’s already grown so used to having you in Zaun that she doesn’t give a second thought to the fact you have only been here for a few days. After a beat, she coughs slightly and continues: “We found this, er, councillor for Piltover trapped in the wastes a few years back, and we were about to leave him there until Jayce and Mel intervened. Apparently, he knew a lot about food safety, so he’s become our official food health and safety inspector. He helped us set up pasteurization equipment, as well as various animal diets. You’d never guess it from looking at the guy – a skinny little blond thing that could be carried off by an ant.”
“Sevika, I know you are aware I can hear you,” someone huffs from up ahead. You startle, gaze jumping from Sevika to a young man in a wheelchair holding a clipboard as he scrutinizes a cow pasture. Next to him stands a broad man holding a rifle with an exasperated look on his face. You know him: Jayce, he was with Sevika’s group.
“So what? You going to write a false report about my honey and get the only sweetener in this town banned? I know you like your coffee too much for that,” Sevika huffs, rolling her eyes as she passes one of the coffee cups to him. The man grins and takes a hearty swig despite the coffee still being too hot for even you to drink. Oh. That’s why she needed two (you thought she was just going to drink them both).
“It seems my hands are tied,” he giggles, scrutinizing you for a moment with a furrowed brow. “And who is this young lady with you, Sevika? Finally managed to scavenge someone from the wastes willing to put up with your boar-like nature?”
“You damn well know I don’t go out there to –“
You cut Sevika off by introducing yourself, holding out your hand for him to shake it. You did not need her to cause a fight this early in the morning.
“Ah, so you’re the one Silco and Vander mentioned – a pleasure to meet you! My name is Salo; please let me know if you have any further questions about food safety. I would be more than willing to exchange notes,” Salo says, shaking your hand firmly before letting it go.
“I probably don’t know as much as you do, but I appreciate the offer. Thank you. Knowing the milk is pasteurized puts me at ease,” you say politely as Sevika grabs your wrist.
“Yeah, yeah, come on; we’ve got some bees to tend to. You can rub elbows with Salo later; he’s always around doing not much of anything,” Sevika grumbles, trying to pull you away.
“One second, I have a question!” you protest. Sevika relents with a frustrated sigh, putting her hand on her hip as she waits. You turn to Jayce, who has been quietly petting a curious cow. “Jayce, I believe Sevika mentioned you have a forge?”
“That’s right!” Jayce confirms, turning to face you with a carefully practiced professional smile. The cow butts her head against his shoulder in protest.
“I’ve got a few bottles from the wastes that aren’t doing me any good sitting around. Is there a good time to swing by and get those to you?” It’s not entirely a lie – you do have a few from your wandering days that could be in better hands. Mainly, you want to give him all the empty bottles cluttering Sevika’s kitchen.
“Any time between ten in the morning and eight at night works. Except on Mondays – the forge is closed as I have a patrol route then,” Jayce informs you, giving the cow a good scritch behind the ear.
“And we inspect the food on Mondays!” Salo interjects, hastily swallowing a mouthful of coffee to do so.
“That too,” Jayce assents.
“I’ll swing by the forge when I get a chance then. Thank you,” you chirp, finally allowing Sevika to guide you away.
She does so immediately, all but carrying you off as she trudges through the tall grass toward the bee colonies. They’re not too far away from where you’d stopped – just out of earshot from Jayce and Salo. Each little hutch is painted a different colour from the others, in a variety of different saturations and luminosities. If you had to guess, you might think Jinx had a hand in painting them (the little smiley faces are a dead giveaway).
You reach for the fence, and Sevika quickly snatches your hand away.
“Gear first! Do you want to get stung?” she barks, glaring at you.
“Geez, sorry,” you shy away, pulling your hand back sharply.
A look as if she’s been struck flashes across her face for a brief moment before she shies away, taking a step back. Your heart crumbles as she bows her head like a puppy that’s been kicked off the couch one too many times.
“Shit – sorry. It’s just…”
“Don’t worry about it, Sev’ –” You squeeze her shoulder gently to reassure her.
She offers you a fake smile to try and look tough, but you can see the hurt bleeding into it.
“No, it’s not – you can’t just brush it off,” she huffs, carding a hand through her hair. “The world is shit enough as it is. You don’t deserve me barking at you on top of it all.”
“Sevika, it’s the apocalypse. I’d rather you stop me from doing something stupid or dangerous than clam up and let me, especially when we’re outside of Zaun. You’re keeping me safe – how can I be mad at that?”
“Sorry,” she apologizes again, her shoulders hunching forward. “I just don’t want to hurt you or drive you away. Vander always tells me I’m too hot-headed, so I’ve been trying to be nicer...”
“You’re not going to drive me away by being yourself. Or by looking out for me. Frankly, you’re stuck with me. You’ve given me free room, food, a comfortable bed, and a hot shower – plus, I don’t have to constantly worry about dying every day. I mean fuck, I can actually feel safe knowing that you’re around. I haven’t felt safe in a very long time,” you reassure her, leaning up to kiss her on the cheek as you finish. “Now, show me where the bee gear is.”
Sevika stares at you blankly for so long that you think you broke her. If human brains could fry, you’re dead certain smoke would be pouring out of her ears right now. When she finally realizes she’s just staring at you, she blinks back into reality, mumbles out something that sounds vaguely like “follow me,” and trudges off to a nearby shed. You follow after her politely, feeling just a tad bit powerful after having caused her brain to error hard enough to shut her up.
The shed is small, with barely enough space for her to step inside and get out two suits. You wait outside, taking the gear she thrusts into your hands and pulling it on carefully, not wanting to get the mud on your boots on the inside of the pants. Your patrol gear is set off to the side for later (with the exception of your pistol). Once both of you are fully dressed, you hold your breath to not snicker at how dorky the two of you look. The mesh netting is absolutely not working for Sevika! Luckily, Sevika doesn’t notice how dangerously close to giggling you are (or, if she does, she refrains from drawing attention to it). Instead, she trudges back over to the fence and holds it open for you. You slip into the small, carefully guarded area where bees are quietly buzzing, coming and going from human-made hives. Following them, you slowly approach the hives and stop a few feet back, observing them as closely as you do the crunch of grass approaching you.
Sevika places her hand on the small of your back. The warmth of her hand radiates against your body, even with all of your gear in the way. You lean into it, smiling softly as you watch the bees. A few of them fly over to investigate you, landing on your outstretched fingers and assessing the danger before flying off.
“These little ladies saved our asses when we ran out of sugar a few years back,” Sevika says, breaking the silence gently.
“Hard workers,” you hum, giggling as one lands on Sevika’s mesh netting. Right in front of her eyes. “Looks like they want to say hello – maybe it’s to demand more flowers, Sev’.”
Sevika chuckles, blowing gently so the bee takes off and flies away. Her fingers scrunch in a little against your back as you render her nervous. Tentatively, she turns to you and asks: “You keep, er, calling me that. Why?”
“It’s just a nickname… do you not like it?” you backpedal quickly, scanning her face for any sign of discontent.
“No! No, no, I like it. It’s well… no one’s given me a nickname before –“ she scratches the back of her neck awkwardly – “It feels odd.”
“Good odd or bad odd?” you probe, trying to squash your swelling heart at her earnest honesty.
“Good odd!” she says quickly, clamping her mouth shut just as fast. She coughs and straightens up a little. “Pretty lady like yourself can call me anything you wish. Only wanted to make sure you weren’t insulting me – Jinx likes to mock me with names when she’s in a bad headspace.”
Your heart swoons before you can stop it. Now is absolutely not the time – you just met the woman, you can’t possibly fall in love so fast! Yet, it feels as if she’s the missing part of your soul, and now that you’ve found her, your soul sobs for its final piece.
“Well, I can promise I’m not doing it to make fun of you, Sevika. I just like how your name feels on my tongue,” you assure her, gently blowing a bee off of her shoulder.
Sevika gulps imperceptively, glancing at the rising sun: “We should head back now. Grayson will want to assign us a patrol route, and we ought to find you a horse. You can’t ride on the back of Duchess for this one.”
“Okay, let me say goodbye to the bees first,” you chirp, turning to the bees before she can stop you. “Goodbye, ladies, keep up the good work! If we’re lucky, Sevika will let me come back and help with a harvest soon!”
Sevika mumbles something to herself far too quietly for you to hear. When you turn back around and catch a glimpse of her face, it’s bright red, and her eyes are sparkling as she watches you with an intensity that rivals the sun. Even through the mesh of the beekeeper’s hood.
“Ready now, sweet thing?”
“Yup! Let’s go see Grayson!”
The bee gear is stashed in the shed once more, and you collect your patrol gear, readjusting your backpack straps. Sevika is quiet the whole way back, steering you through the blissfully empty streets toward the horse stables. You revel in the feeling of her hand on your lower back, keeping you safe and close to her side. Your heart hammers in your chest at her quiet, gentle way of taking care of you despite her prickly and blunt demeanour. As if she softens just as much as you when the two of you are together. The stables come into view far faster when the streets aren’t busy – standing proud and tall amongst the old buildings. You can hear various horses and their riders heading out for the day or being led in to rest for the night. A loud yawn draws your attention to Vi as she heads back into town for the night with Caitlyn. Both of them look absolutely exhausted – as if they’ve been out on patrol all night. Vi is barely able to keep herself from passing out in the street, and Caitlyn is leaning heavily on her shoulder.
“Run into any trouble?” Sevika asks as they pass by.
“Nah, it’s all clear up north – for today, at least. Uneventful and peaceful. Saw a few deer, rabbit or two, lots of squirrels,” Vi shrugs, kissing Caitlyn on the forehead. “You two heading out?”
“About to – got to talk to Grayson first,” Sevika grunts, flicking her gaze to Caitlyn. “You should take her home, or your cupcake’s gonna wind up smudged with dirt.”
“And you should take yours out – get some dirt on her. Just try not to run into a horde like yesterday. Don’t need to spook her on her first patrol,” Vi says, bending down and scooping Caitlyn into her arms. She walks off, tossing a “Have fun!” over her shoulder.
“Wait – horde?” you squeak, glancing nervously at Sevika. You frantically scan her for any injuries you have yet to notice.
“Relax, we can handle a horde out here. They’re smaller and weaker – not a lot of people lived in these mountains during the old world,” Sevika grunts, continuing on to the stables. “Vi just wants to scare you so we don’t get caught off-guard today… we got a little too sloppy yesterday – the horde showed up in the middle of our chat. We didn’t realize until they were on top of us.”
“… that explains why you were so upset when you found me at Grayson’s shop,” you breathe, a sad smile warping your face into sympathy.
“What do you mean by that?” Sevika questions gruffly, hardening her gaze at you.
“You were all worked up by the horde – when I wasn’t there, you must have thought I was in danger due to the excess adrenaline built up in your system. You could have just told me, you know? The whole silent treatment fiasco was unnecessary,” you huff, knocking her shoulder with a light shove.
Sevika stumbles a bit and huffs, scuffing her boots in the mud.
“How are you so damn perceptive? Just – fuck, yes, okay, I was worried!” She spins around, cupping your cheek with her hand, tilting your head up and forcing you to meet her gaze. “We live during the actual apocalypse! When you run off like that, of course, I’m going to worry. So, keep yourself safe on this patrol today, okay? If I say run, you run. No arguing.”
“Sev’, you have to trust me. I’ve survived this long; I can hold my own against the infected. I’m not stupid either; if it’s a cocked situation, I’ll run, but I’m not leaving you behind,” you argue, firmly holding her gaze. You try not to think about her hand on your face, nor the way you subconsciously lean into it.
“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” she grouses, conceding.
“It’s my worst quality,” you hum, lifting your hand to squeeze her wrist gently in reassurance. “Now, should we get a move on?”
Sevika grunts, dropping her hand. This time, she keeps walking to the stables and doesn’t stop until the two of you are through the door. Stalls run parallel to each other, comfortably housing many horses with fresh bedding, water and feed. Their tack hangs on nearby walls at the far end of the bar. Duchess snorts as Sevika steps inside, growing restless in her stall – eager to stretch her legs. Almost immediately, Grayson spots you and hurries over. You swoon a little at her outfit – a straining blue plaid shirt that’s rolled up to her elbows, covering an old grey t-shirt that peeks out under a few undone buttons. Blue jeans frame her figure, tucked into cowboy boots, with a pistol on her hip and a lasso, too. There’s a tan folder tucked under her arm.
“Good to see that your dutiful attitude is rubbing off on our newest, Sevika. I expected you to at least be a little delayed today on account of the new, warm bed,” Grayson says, pulling the folder out from under her arm. “I’m assigning you to the Western patrol route. It has been fairly quiet for the last few days, so expect trouble. Silco wants the area fully scouted and cleared out for a new construction project. Be mindful of the old weather station – we still haven’t found anyone to clear it out since its discovery last year.”
“Got it,” Sevika grunts, taking the paper from her. You can see some old photocopy on the back – this is scrap paper. “Only need one thing before we can head out: a horse for our newest lady here.”
Grayson regards you for a moment with a furrowed brow. You squirm under her gaze, puffing out your chest and standing taller in order to look presentable – not quite sure what she’s assessing. After a tense moment, Grayson nods her head in satisfaction.
“If you will humour an old woman, I have the perfect horse in mind.”
“By all means, lead the way,” you giggle nervously.
Grayson leads you through the stables and toward the back. You fold your hands behind your back, glancing in at every horse. Most of them are unbothered by your presence – a few of them snort at you or stick their heads out to see what you’re up to. Grayson stops at the third stall from the end, planting her hands on her hips and grinning at her own genius.
“This here is a morgan. She has refused to take a rider for the past few weeks – ever since Violet cleared her for one. Ever since she was a filly, she has been gentle, kind and intelligent. Show her no fear, and we’ll get our answer,” Grayson instructs you, gesturing for you to approach the stall.
Sevika leans on a post nearby, watching you with idle interest.
You take a deep breath and step forward, approaching the stall. Almost instantly, the head of a grey, speckled morgan whips out of the stall and stares you down. You freeze in place, willing yourself not to show her fear as you hold up your hand. She scrutinizes it for a long moment – until you’re worried if you should be afraid of her – and then butts her head against your palm. You laugh nervously, scratching her snout and raking your fingers through her white mane. She huffs and nuzzles your arm, searching for any treats. Behind you, Grayson chuckles heartily and pats your shoulder.
“Good girl – see? No reason to be afraid of these gentle giants. And every reason to trust my instincts,” she jokes, pulling a treat out of her satchel and giving the morgan a beet. “She doesn’t have a name yet, so that will be up to you – we let our riders choose their horse’s name as it builds a stronger bond. But she does come with tack. I’ll help you get her ready while Sevika handles Duchess – you two can learn to trust each other out on the trails.”
“Thank you, this is very generous,” you say, still scratching your horse’s face gently.
“It’s my job. I cannot send you out ill-prepared and on foot. Besides, everyone gets a horse around here; you never know when you will need one. Vander has a habit of sending people out on salvage patrols on a whim,” Grayson reassures you, giving you a few horse treats for later. “Now, let’s get you tacked up.”
summary : a trip to scotland for a belated birthday celebration turns into a blast from the past when you find yourself in 1919 with no chance of getting home, until you meet someone on a train to London that tells you he can help your situation and get you a visa....
warnings : angsty at times, near death experience (hypothermia), inspector campbell being creepy for the plot, bad writing, i have no concept of how much money a british pound is so ??, warnings will change with each chapter so please read them carefully!
notes : reader is 23-27 but no specified age, this is kind of an Outlander A.U. where the reader travels through a stone circle (or cairn for this one lolz) and goes back in time
a.n. : this chapter is technically an intro to the rest of the plot that ties in with the canon + vvv descriptive bc thats my writing style :P + also i suck at summaries + just recently got back into writing as a hobby, so this might be absolute trash but I'm very proud. if anyone has any issues with the content or what i write about because it goes against anything online please let me know so i can fix it!!
Not my image!
The black hoodie clings to your skin, sopping wet and forcing a chill through your skin. In the split second it took to regain consciousness, you realize your clothes are soaked, and judging at how badly you're shivering and that you're face-down in the grass, you've been asleep in the rain for god knows how long. Rolling over the damp grass to sit up, you catch a glimpse at the location you find yourself, the cairn outside the small town you had been staying at in Scotland on vacation.
The sky was dim, sunrise slowly encroaching over the heavy raindrops on the hills. Sitting against one of the boulders of the cairn, a shaky breath leaves your chest, fanning out in front of your face. Through the near hypothermia that's started to quickly make you sweat, a deep uneasiness started to take root, but you were far too panicked to acknowledge it in the moment.
You jumped to your feet, realizing how little time you have alive could be without action, rubbing your hands together for as much friction they could create, dancing your legs in place to wake your body back up. Attempting a warm breath into your hands barely helped your frigid and close-to-death state. The cold was numbing, the fog in your brain was all around you, mentally and physically, keeping the hilltop the cairn sat upon as an island amidst a sea of grey. And suddenly there was a faint light approaching.
The candlelight within the squeaking lamp softened the mist, making it far more inviting than the haze the man emerged from. Your shivers halted abruptly, the uneasiness bubbled up from your stomach to your throat, a foul taste in the back of your mouth spread over your tongue.
"'ello!! 'ello is anyone out 'ere?!" The man's shoulders shook with a powerful Scottish accent, and a strong sense of safety accompanied it. Alas, the shivers returned in full force.
"Here!" Your voice broke sharply. "I-I'm over here!" Attempting to speak up through the shakes and ambiance of early dawn proved difficult, your breathing overtaken by the cold and feverish urge to survive.
And luck was on your side today, for the first time.
"Hello?" The gentleman turned to the sound of your voice, not expecting to find you curled in a ball and soaked to the bone. And in strange clothes that were quite unseemly for a woman of your age. The outer layer that draped over you and the denim that clad your legs were downright outlandish to the man in front of you. 'Damn Americans and their strange styles of dress' He thought to himself quickly, before stepping lightly over to you, helping you up, and taking his overcoat off to throw across your shoulders.
The warmth was welcomed greatly. You nearly stopped shivering for a moment as the smell of worn and slightly wet leather, cologne and fire overtook you. It was the most definitive thing you could grasp on to in the few minutes, or hours, you had been conscious of.
"Ma'am, what are you doing out here at the time of morn'? You'll catch yourself a death of a cold out in this weather for much longer." The older man took your hand and led you to his carriage and horse. What am I doing out here? The reasoning escaped you through the fog, but you caught a glimpse.
A stone in your hands, turning in your palm as you walk the grounds of a historic castle. Your phone died in your hands mid photo, with the cairn in the fading pixels.
Where are you?
Your slowly warming hand finds its way into the soaked pocket of your hoodie, and alas, no such stone was to be found. Your cell phone and wallet remained, but judging by the man assisting you, there didn't seem to be much hope in asking if he had a charger you could borrow.
He paused to let you lean against the large wooden wheel of his cart, waiting a moment before speaking. A gentler tone took his voice. "Ma'am, do you remember how you got out here?"
The fog had cleared, both in your mind, and as the first bits of sunlight rose from the eastern horizon. After a pregnant pause, you responded.
"I'm vacationing here, from America." That much was true, you were from America and you were here on vacation, the only question was when you were visiting. You had flown over in a modern plane, taken a modern train from London to Edinburgh, and then a taxi to Inverness. The man in front of you made a subtle face of surprise, as if the journey you have described could have taken over 6 months, when in it only took 2 days for you to be a quarter of the way around the globe.
"I'm sorry you've found yerself so far from home, Inverness 's not a place I would expect an American to want to travel." The man moved the lantern from his hand to a metal bar attached to the seat of the carriage. He busied himself with his gloves. "If I'm correct, you're shivering out of yer britches and startin' to sweat at the same time." You nodded quickly, sharp pins and needles erupting from the skin you moved. The man brushed his hand over his chin, considering his options.
"My daughter Isa will have coffee and a warm hearth awaitin'. Once you've warmed up we can 'elp you return to wherever ye came from." The man sounded less than enthusiastic to have an American in his home, but the desperate need of your medical situation demanded his unwilling help. No one wanted to have any connection to a dead foreigner found at a locally mysterious site known for having a frequency of people going missing when visiting.
He helped you up onto the bouncing wooden seat. The smell of horse and leather of the reigns was the second most tangible thing you could consider basing your reality off of. This was obviously not the 21st century. A young woman, possibly anywhere in the 1830's to the 1940's (judging the man's attire and horse) in a foreign country with no possible way of proving her existence via official documents. That was the reality of the matter. You had no idea when you were, and if there was a possibility of getting back to the modern day.
Focus, and compartmentalize. There will be time to deal with the larger issues later on. Don't freeze to death, and then figure out what time and day it is. Gently and slowly returning to work, your brain made its first decision of this strange crisis: Deal with it later. In the meantime, you were able to do a quick mental diagnostic ; Legs work, fingers bend and grab, your stomach growls and you understand that your guts and heart still work, you've spoken to the man, so obviously your mouth and voice still work just fine. The only outlier was what year you were inhabited by accident.
The gentleman took one last glance at the girl who had barely spoken, and urged his horse forward toward the gentle outline of a stone town a few miles away.
-
The fire overtook the crisp and clammy feeling that crawled over your body. Heat licked at your hair and half exposed arms. You had met the man's daughter, Isa, and she had practically thrown a warm cup of half brewed coffee out of half awake panic. Although your father walking into your kitchen with a strange young woman at barely 5 in the morning would alarm you as well.
Adding to the alarm, Isa was just as perplexed about your strange, "American" clothes. She was convinced no one was strange enough to wear those clothes willingly, and since you were of similar size with Isa, she gave you a few of her old clothes to wear as you warmed in front of the fire. A bulky, tan skirt slightly too tight at the waist and a thin, loose in the bosom white blouse. You sat at the hearth with a large blanket draped over your shoulders, reminiscent of the smell of the man's overcoat.
Your clothes draped near the fire, steam coming off of your printed socks with cats on them. Isa had commented about the craftsmanship and how expensive they must have been. You barely muttered a response that would have made sense. All that time spent taking notes in World History class, and you remember nothing about Britain and Scotland after the Revolutionary war or before WWII. The grip on your phone was tight and you quietly pondered as to how you were going to keep it hidden while you were here. There was hope to get home. At least for now.
"So you really can't remember anything?" Isa leaned over to place the back of her hand over your warm forehead.
"Nothing from before your father found me." You only partially lied, you can't directly remember how you ended up at the cairn.
"But you remember your name, right?" Isa sat back in her chair, reaching for a cup of coffee on the dining table.
"Oh, right, sorry. My name is (y/n)." Your answer was curt, unrevealing as possible.
The morning dragged on. The sun was up, the clock on the wall above the sink read 7:46. Time.
"What day is it?" You asked quietly into your coffee while attempting to cool it off.
"Wednesday." Isa had been buzzing around the kitchen, completing various tasks but while also keeping an eye on you. Her father had toddled off somewhere else in the house, his footsteps were heard, but not yet seen in daylight. "But if you would like the specifics, it's Wednesday, February 5th, in the year 1919."
"Thank you, Isa."
-
Hours later and lots of planning around the limited memory you spoke about having, it was decided that Isa's father would lend you a 20 pound note he had been saving (He was subtly adamant you got his address to mail money back to him) for the trains to London, and Isa gifted you a few of her mother's worn skirts and blouses.
The plan was for you to travel back to London and hopefully return to either your home country or your family, though you knew both of these things were problematic. Isa's father, Robert, had left around 8 to ask around the town about your family, or anyone who may have traveled with you. No one had a clue. You thanked both of them urgently, and with deep appreciation. A small mental note was categorized that you should repay more than just the 20 pounds, kindness as bountiful as had been shown to you was deserved of a larger reward.
A short walk with many stumbles to the train station back to Edinburgh. The heels of your company's shoes clicked against the raised wooden deck parallel to the stone station.
"Thank you both, for your generosity." You gripped at the skirt that fell to the tips of your toes barely covered your Chuck Taylor Converse. Isa smiled gently, holding a worn and broken leather carrying case out to you to take.
"I can't do enough to pay you all back." You made a note to include Isa's mother in the thanks, as she was also indirectly gifting you items.
"Goin' home safe," a large pause entered the conversation following Robert's comment. Isa had earlier explained that her father has a strange and unusual issue with Americans. Especially visiting somewhere like Inverness. "-Is all we can pray for." His voice was genuine, but with a hint of resentment. Not towards you, but aimed at something far larger than you. Robert was odd. Everything is odd. If you were only slightly more deranged, you would be acting just as cold and bitter as he was.
The train whistle was enough to make you jump out of your skin slightly, and the final call for boarding passengers was announced by the conductor.
"Again, thank you both. Your kindness is appreciated more than you can imagine." Taking the bag from Isa's hands, the heft slightly surprised you, but recovered as you walked up the steps to the train. Part of you wanted to stay, see what life you could carve here while trying to get home through the cairn. The other part of you understood that there isn't a choice in going home.
A large smile was across Isa's face when you found her among the scattered people on the raised deck, her father seemed to have already walked away and started on the walk home. A smile and wave and the train chugged into motion, steam flying behind the glass. You catch your reflection briefly. (y/e/c) eyes and an ill greenish grey colour clung to your skin, the grey skies unrelenting in their goal to forbid sunlight from reaching Scotland’s soil. It was pitiful to see yourself like this, a homesick and anxious ache bloomed in your gut. Settling into the steady chugging, the warmth of the shirt on your shoulders, and the steadiness of your seat beneath you was reality enough to coax you into a well deserved sleep.
-
A clamorous crash awoke you from the short nap your body allowed, the train had stopped, and with it came your carrying case from the weak storage compartment situated above your head. Calming your racing heart, you leaned over to stand and pick the dry leather handle from the floor and returned the hefty item to its previous place. A huff of breath while you fall into your seat, and your pulse finally calms down. You looked out the glass at the yellow train station sign reading the carefully painted words ‘Welcome to Manchester’ slowly.
People filed onto and off of the individual train cars, and soon enough your train car was mostly filled, all except the private aisle you suddenly shared with an older man in a bowler hat and bulky, black overcoat. Scanning him as he took the opposing corner seat in the small room. Everything about this man was understated, his tie held no colour, nor did his vest or suitcoat. The only colour to bespeckle this man was the icy blue of his eyes, weathered by age, and his salt and pepper hair and mustache.
He carried and opened a file of paperwork close to his chest, but sitting across from him it was easy to see that he had no intention of keeping the title private; ‘TOP SECRET, SPECIAL BRANCH, BSA MUNITIONS ROBBERY : PRIME’- Suspects, finishing the sentence you couldn’t read fully. With the amount of heist movies you watched before you were thrown back in time gave you a good inference that this man was police, or whatever British version of the FBI that happened to exist in 1919.
You were shocked the man didn’t seem to acknowledge your existence in the train car, until he swiftly checked to see where your eyes had been trailing and caught you staring directly at the opened folder.
“Has your family yet taught you that staring is quite rude?” A gruff and grumbled voice projected from beneath his bushy mustache. You removed your eyes quickly from the grey-green envelope. He carried the corners back towards each other, closing the file to place it on his lap.
“They did, I apologize.” You moved to turn your body away from him, crossing your left leg over your right to lean against the window, eyes dragging sleepily over the quickly passing trees. You hadn’t even been aware the train had started moving again. Your accent seemed to surprise the man.
“American?” He queried. You nodded, turning your head back to look in his direction. “If I may be so bold and ask, are you traveling to London?”
“Yes, actually. I hope to travel home once I arrive there.” You pondered quickly over the depth of information you wanted to share with the man. “I lost my passport while visiting Inverness, I need to speak to the police in London to figure out how I can get home without it.”
The man’s mustache lifted gently with a slight smile. “Well, I suppose it’s a good thing we met today, my name is Chester Campbell, I’m an Inspector with the Scotland yard. I can get you a travel visa in Birmingham tomorrow, and then the day after you can be on a boat in London sailing back to the states.” He enthusiastically put his hand to his knee, outwardly excited for the upcoming few days. Your warning alarms were blaring in your head, but you doubted this man would let you stray away from the plan he just created.
“May I see your identification?” You hoped he would be too excited to hear in your voice how deeply you distrusted him. “It’s awfully dangerous for a young woman like myself to be traveling with a stranger who can’t prove his identity.” A shy smile lit your face gently, hoping to ease your own tension. He gave off waves of steeled and attuned senses to something. What it was you couldn’t pinpoint, but you could barely manage to stay in the same car with the way your skin suddenly crawled.
“Of course m’lady,” He handed you his badge after drawing it from within his breast pocket on his overcoat. All his information seemed appropriate for a man of his age and stature, and your hackles smoothed down with the small comfort that he was in fact a police officer. “Anything for the comfort of the fairer sex.”
Ew. Forget your skin crawling, you felt violently ill. But he could get you to America sooner. Although, what the hell would be good about being a woman traveling by herself to her nonexistent home in the states? Where would you even go once you got to New York? Dangers lurk around every turn, this Inspector Campbell was proof of this. I can’t give this opportunity away, as much as I dislike him. I might not get another chance to fall into my lap like this. “Thank you, Inspector.” A response finally fell through your teeth as you handed his badge back to him, and he tucked it back into its place within his coat. A tense conversation of small talk filled the remainder of the ride to Birmingham, your trust in him was nonexistent, and the hour and 30 minute ride didn’t improve it.
-
Stretching your legs from the excruciatingly long train ride was a welcomed feeling, stepping off the train and onto the Birmingham station platform. The sun was setting and you needed a drink. The trunk in your hand bumped your leg as you walked with it, eager to get away from that god forsaken room the Inspector filled with conversation through the entire ride. Swiftly asking those scattered around the buildings surrounding the station, The Garrison seemed to be the only pub within walking distance and price range, and so you started your venture to find food and drink. Your legs carried you away from the station as fast as possible before the Inspector had the chance to corner and engage you in yet another drawn-out commentary on the weather.
The Inspector had also offered to take you out for dinner, but you refused politely as you were collecting your things on the train to leave swiftly. If an hour of his time was grating years off of your life like it seemed to have done, you can’t imagine dinner with him. It might kill you on the spot.
The intricate details on the glass of the front façade gave The Garrison an odd aura that felt so very welcoming and warm, and yet the building itself had a feeling of owning wary and watchful eyes. Pushing through the doors, the rubber of your shoes squealed loudly against the marble flooring, catching the eyes of many of the other patrons through the frosted glass. You paused against the second set of doors to steady yourself and grip the handle of your carrying case before walking directly to the golden bar top and shimmying up onto a stool.
It wasn’t a great bar, in fact it was barely more than four walls, a few windows, and a mountain of liquor. The lighting was dim, keeping the more unseemly stains from the eyes of the customers. The woodworking of the booths behind you was gorgeous, beautiful craftsmanship that was beer spackled and possibly pissed on. The woodwork behind the bar seemed less abused, instead worn and well loved, and before you could admire it any further, the tall bartender asked you for your order.
“What food do you have here?” You asked swiftly, running on fumes and short tempered from the train ride. You, very less than subtly, reached down your shirt to where you had stashed the 20 pounds in your bra. Luckily The Garrison paid no attention, and you were able to order the largest meal the man in front of you could provide: a few slices of sourdough bread, cheese and a small chicken breast with potatoes. Pairing it with a large stein of beer, you were barely awake by last call, nearly asleep on the bar after everyone else had cleared out, except for the strange group of men that had been in and out of the corner room over the course of the night.
“Ma’am, I hate to do this to you, but you can’t sleep at the bar tonight.” The bartender leaned against the golden surface with a rag over his shoulder. God knows what time it was, and there was no possible way of getting you to care.
“Is there anywhere nearby for less than,” You did a quick tally in your mind to count the remaining coins in your pocket. “10 pounds a night?” Lifting your head from the counter to gaze up at the barman.
He sighed above you. “Look, don’t let anyone know about it, and I’ll let you sleep at one of the booths for tonight. You seem like a good enough woman, but tomorrow morning you are done loitering here and you’ll move along.” He bargained, and your heart leapt in your chest at the grace of the cards that have been falling into place around you.
“Thank you so much, sir. I’ll help you open tomorrow morning if that would help at all, I really do mean to earn my keep for tonight.” You suggested, overexcited at the fact you had a place to stay the night. He seemed to chew on the idea in his mind for a moment.
“I don’t see why that wouldn’t work.” He nodded. “The name’s Harry Fenton, I own the Garrison.”
“I’m (y/n),” You smiled slightly. “And I think I will be going to bed now.”
notes pt2. : woooaaah holy crap that was a lot im so sorry for such a long intro chapter but trust itll make sense next chapter :P i legit worked on this chapter for a week and I will try my best to learn how to make a freakin masterlist now that im finally back into writing stuffs :> idk when pt 2 will be out but i can start a tag list if anyone wants to be added
