#the voices take a bit of a backseat compared to chapter 1

[mnxxlove]

POURED DAISIES #1 #2

Pairing: Harry Styles

Prompts:

11; multi chapter

16; just fluff

20; soulmates as friends or lovers

AU; picnic date

AU; rainy day

Word Count: 3327

Summary: It’s late September, Y/n and Harry have decided to make a picnic, in one of their favourite locations. He has been away for almost six months, having also on count that he has been really busy working in his new album. Reader supposes that they were going to do such as the other times, having a snack, listening to some music singing with his guitar, and even if it sounded unbelievably corny, taking pictures of themselves there. But he had in mind prepared something more exciting.

warnings: a lot of fluffiness, a bit of angst but it’s a little I promise.

author’s note: I wanted to make this short story because I’ve been trying to search for anything alike, but sadly, as far as I know, there weren’t any fanfiction or imagines. But no worries, I made one myself. For the moment, it only will have two chapters. If you want me to tag u, please tell me 🌼

•From me; to all of you. 🥰

gif not mine

It was Friday in the afternoon, he was driving on it’s way to her house, and as much as Harry desired that day to be as sunny as possible, it was actually very much cloudy. But still, that wasn’t enough of an excuse for them to cancel their most wanted date. They have been apart for almost six months. And although they used to call each other every few days, they still had to work, which was always a big issue that kept them separated for a long period of time… But luckily, he has already finished the album which he had taken some time in. And knowing that he was going to be back in town, they decided to make plans, but somehow what, at the end he couldn’t make it. She was a bit disappointed, but not angry as he expected her to be. And even when she made clear, the fact that it was fine, he knew it wasn’t. And that she was just trying to be kind with him, something that he really appreciated, although he just right deep down, just knew it wasn’t right...

His thumbs played cheerfully on the black leather wheel, while he enjoyed the instrumental of one of his favourite songs. Harry was feeling calmed, but at the same time, he could swear that if happiness was his superpower, he would be already touching the grey clouds of the sky. There was a sweet grin, curving his thin lips most of the time, but he couldn’t help but giggle, once so often to himself. He was feeling like a complete teenager, and it has been so long, ever since the last time, he has ever felt that way. Part of him wanted to scream of excitement, but the other part just wanted to run and hide under his bed, just when he used to do when he was younger. But he knew, he needed to do it. They made plans two weeks ago, but he got distracted with his family, and knowing he wouldn’t be able to make it, he warned her five hours before the hour they chose, to meet each other at the cafeteria. He felt bad for it, but he wanted to spend the rest of the day with his family, most specifically his sister, which was going to go on vacation for a few days. When he cancelled their plans for that day, Harry thought about giving her an excuse, but at the end, he just apologised. But he was going to compensate her today. He just asked her if it was possible for her to be out for the rest of the day and to dress comfy. Y/n had no idea where he was going to take her to, and she hated surprises so badly, and he knew it, which it was even funnier for him to do so.

Her neighbourhood wasn’t far away from his childhood house, but he still insisted on picking her up. Even if they were only ten minutes away, he always used to take the long way to her house, and even though he always did it, she still made it after him. Y/n always being the one finding him parked outside her house. But this time was different. He didn’t take the long road, he went for the shortest one instead. However, even if he was already picturing himself waiting for her outside the car.

The moment his car passed by, he saw her sitting on the porch waiting for him. Her hair was longer, and as she had told him a few months ago, she had lost a little weight, because of the stress that she needed to deal with, these past few months. A lot of stuff happened, he left and she stayed, but their lives kept going and the world kept rotating. Meaning, that it has been longer than he ever expected. Harry didn’t even think about it, and he parked the car. Making her to immediately raise her chin. Clumsily, he got out of his car and once he got out, he closed it behind him, Harry walked rapidly towards her, and so did she, almost tripping on the way. Laughing, they embraced each other.

“Oh my god! You look lovely, Harry.” She mumbled, her voice being way more higher-pitched than normal.

Harry was having his back a bit bend, because of their noticeable, different height difference. Arms kept her close to his chest, his chin was rested on her left shoulder, whereas Y/n kept herself closer to him, her short arms passed by his back, the sleeves of her oversized cardigan hiding her wrists. She was having her head rested on his chest, and meanwhile she was having her eyes closed and a big grin marked on her face, he was having his eyes closed while he just couldn’t help but to feel himself fade away with the sweet smell of her perfume.

“I missed you like crazy.” Harry whispered, while caressing her back with one of his hands.

Just after that, they didn’t say anything else. And it was at that precise moment, that they then, began to feel alright again. Not just the feeling of home came back just to him, but for her again. And even if she wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, she needed him more than ever. There wasn’t anyone that could be compared, and if that was possible they weren’t interested in finding it. Both feeling flustered, just decided to break the long embrace, they formed a few minutes ago.

On one hand, he was grinning, a big smile from ear to ear. His green eyes shining, bright as crystal, letting her know that he was moved by the situation. And on the other hand, she just looked at him in the same way, but the only difference was that she was hiding her big smile behind her hands, that were pressed together and just placed on her mouth shyly. Harry let out a chuckle which Y/n shared too. Bowing his head a bit, he just took a step towards her, to then, holding both her hands. It felt unbelievably good being together again, and they just looked at each other happily. Harry stretched their arms, and he saw her up and down and he just smiled, heart eyes staring directly to her.

“I was tired of looking at pictures. It’s just not the same...” He affirmed softly, which just made her to bow her head to a side, shocking her head.

They couldn’t picture each other as a third person would, but if they could, they would definitely melt.

They looked like children in love, and they had no idea.

“Where are you taking me?” She giggled, walking straight to the co-pilot seat that was on the right side of the car. Harry didn’t give her an answer. He just limited himself to hum while rolling his eyes instead.

Y/n not getting anything back, she turned around on her feet, now staring at him in the eyes, her head being now raised. Before saying anything, he stared at her, his eyes narrowed.

“I can’t tell.” He gasped and she nodded, letting out a sigh.

“Hey, it is alright. You’ll love it!” His voice softened this time. Y/n knew, that he was aware that she hated surprises. But he did it only because he knew she’d love it… And that is mostly the only excuse he always had in mind, to make her a surprise.

“Trust me, love.” He added, now helping her with the door. Y/n gazed at him, eyes now narrowed.

She was feeling quite too intrigued but still, she had no idea where they were going or even, what they were going to do… Once, Y/n was in, she turned her head, and she saw on the backseats his guitar, with a green notebook and a purple pen. She wondered if there’s a chance that he has been writing or composing lately. But knowing it was private, she preferred to not ask. When he opened the door, she just pretended to put on her seatbelt, to then, staring up at him.

The ride didn’t feel long, or at least, thirty minutes beside him felt like that. The car was silent, the only thing that it could be heard was the music sounding, leaving it as a good background music.

It was delicate and it felt slowed down... Being with him felt peaceful, loving and exciting such as it always felt like it. If it weren’t because they have made memories not including each other, it would feel like they have never gotten separated. Harry loved it. Being with her again felt fresh and homelike, but even if it felt heart-whelming, it also was heartbreaking, just thinking that he would be gone again in a few months. Which by just having that kind of thought running around his mind, made his mood to change drastically. He wasn’t smiling anymore, and he was now looking straight at the highway and it’s traffic signs. His jaw was tightened and a frown was formed within seconds.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice disconcerted him, making him turn his head, to gaze at her for a split of a second.

“It’s just… Everytime I come back, it makes it harder for me to go.” He let out a deep sigh.

She wasn’t expecting that answer, which at first left her speechless, but she then just placed her cold hand on his, which was placed on the gear lever. Y/n understood how difficult it could be for him. He was alone most of the time, and the only close persons he really had after his family was her. And sadly, they were always far away from him, which always broke him.

“One day, you’ll have to go and never come back in a longer period than just six months…” She added, thinking it would be good. But she was wrong.

“Are you trying to make me sadder?” He cut her ironically, having both his eyebrows raised in expectation.

“Of course not, you silly... I’m just saying that sooner or later, you’ll find the way to get away with this.” Y/n continued, but he just scoffed mentally.

“I’ll never find a way to get away with this. This my home, and it’ll always be my home. The people I love the most are here. And I’ll never forget it.” Harry affirmed, her hand slightly gripping his own.

“...I missed you too.” She suddenly said, copying the same four words he had told her, when his arms were embracing her tightly. Harry just opened his hand, his fingers stretching before her hand, so she could intertwine her fingers with his own.

Before they would notice, they were already approaching the old field, they were used to go often, when they were way much younger. At some point they just decided to stop going. Which they didn’t even know when that happened... The last time they went there was a day before he left London, and it’s been six months. They expected it to look the same, mostly her, but it looked differently... It wasn’t freshed cut as always. And it seemed that it had bloomed flower, after all.

“This cannot be real. You really got us back here?” She told, eyes staring straight at her window.

Harry hearing how happy she turned, it made him happy too. But, somehow, that mix of nostalgia couldn’t fade away...

Just when he parked the car, both got out of the vehicle. And they helped each other place everything up. Just when everything was placed, they sat down on the big white cloth.

“I wanted it to be sunny, but the Sun just decided to not cooperate today.” He scoffed, to then take the basket that was just at the edge from where they were sitting.

“I like it cloudy.” Y/n smiled, not taking her eyes off the field. Feeling herself free, she closed her eyes and calmed, she breathed in deeply, to then letting out all the air. The dampness in the air mixed with the smell of flowers and glass made her smile. And Harry noticed, not helping it but grinning, too then looking down. He opened a few crystal Tupperwares, and he left them there, the tape just being left on. There were seasonal fruits, such as blueberries, the seeds of the pomegranate and white grapes which were their favourite. They were also sandwiches and cookies which he dedicated to prepare just for themselves. And knowing how much she loved the cake he always prepares, he brought some just for her.

“Oh, I love you, I freaking love you.” She repeated after taking a bite of the cake. Harry just let out a guffaw once she told that.

“I know you’d like it.” He laughed.

“I meant you, but ok.” Y/n joked, blinking in surprise.

Still eating, she saw how he grabbed his Polaroid camera, and before he would take the picture she just tried to pose, her eyes were wide opened, both her hands holding the little piece of cake with frosting on it.

It was a surprise picture, and even if she wouldn’t like it, she knew it would be a memory and she really didn’t care if she looked bad or anything, because they were the only ones who had those pictures.

“Does it look good?” Y/n joked, leaving the rest of the cake inside the Tupperware, to then, cleaning her hands with a paper tissue that was inside the basket.

“Adorable.” He affirmed, and she just shocked her head.

The minutes passed and within the sky turned way more darker, letting them believe that it was possibly that it was going to rain. But they just didn’t care.

“I thought about it... I brought a parasol, don’t worry.” He added, rapidly standing up from the cloth, to then getting closer to the car. Y/n turned her head around, to look at him. Without thinking if he would require any help, she just stood up.

Luckily they put it on, and sat just when it felt like it was about to rain. And that’s when he then decided it was going to be an excellent moment to take his guitar, at first he started to improvise, but he then decided to take it seriously. She was laying down, on the white cotton fabric cloth, using both her forearms as a pillow. His voice sounded deep but soothing at the same time. And it was relaxing to hear him sing with the rain in the background. He had his eyes closed most of the time, or at least they were until she took the camera to then take a picture of him. When the flash sounded he opened his eyes abruptly, to then getting flustered, her cheeks flushed.

“Just stop your crying, It'll be alright.. They told me that the end is near. We gotta get away from here. Remember, everything will be alright. We can meet again somewhere. Somewhere far away from here... We never learn, we've been here before. Why are we always stuck and running from.. The bullets, the bullets…?” He sang, his voice mixing with the raindrops collapsing to the waterproof parasol.

It was heavenly peaceful, and she couldn’t stop staring at him.

“...Wanna join me?” He continued playing, and she just nodded, but just after Harry gave her the signal to sing the chorus, the cold wind brushed the field. The smell of lavender embraced them, and not expecting it, luckily they were lucky enough to behold the most wonderful thing, such as how millions of daisies were plucked, and just flew towards them, leaving them having the white cloth covered with daisies and a few lavenders. They looked amazed, it was the very first time in their entire lives that they’ve ever seen that happen in real life. And even if they got a bit wet because of the wind mixed with rain, they loved it still.

Harry stopped playing his guitar, just at the exact moment the flowers started to fly. It was one of those special moments, which anyone would like to take a picture of, to remember it. But they just stared at it hopeful, trying to keep that feeling of freedom and live. Keeping his breath, he left his instrument aside, to then look at her. She just stared at her, eyes wide opened.

She looked beautiful, her hair wasn’t disheveled as she expected it to be. It was more likely brushed, and left falling behind her back. But what she wasn’t able to see was that there were petals and a few flowers lying on a few strands of her hair.

“Do not dare to move.” He demanded which made her stay firm but scared at the same time.

“Do I have a bug on my hair?” Y/n low voice stuttered.

Harry just took the camera and took a pic of her.

“Two bugs?...-Three??” She continued, still being scared. Y/n tried to touch her hair with her fingertips, but was too unsure to touch it. Harry then held both her hands and made her approach. Y/n just took a few steps with both her knees and she then sat in front of him.

“Take it off, please.” She sighed, closing her eyes tightly. Which he just found completely adorable.

Delicately, he collected the petals and the few flowers that were still in her hair, and he left them on one of the palm of his hands.

“Look.” Harry added, showing her his hand. But she didn’t look at it.

“Are you crazy? I’m not going to look!” She overreacted, which made him smirk.

“Ok… Then, smell it.” He affirmed, making her frown ironically. Sighing, she just bowed her head and not after swallowing hard, she then moved her head towards him, her chin being now raised. Harry just held one little daisy and he took it carefully near her nose.

Shyly, Y/n smelled the flower and just let out a chuckle.

“It’s a freaking flower!” Y/n laughed, opening her eyes.

She felt embarrassed but she just decided to laugh while lowering her head.

“You had this all over your hair.” Harry smiled, looking down at the flower. He rounded it on his fingers, making the white petals dance, repeatedly in circles.

Without thinking about it, she just stood up on her knees to then embrace him. Harry didn’t expected her to do that, and even if for first seconds he could be able to hold her, he just let himself fall backwards, having her held tight to him. They spend more than five minutes just laughing to themselves, and they then just stay in that same composure for a long period of time.

Both his arms were placed around her back, and once in a while he would caress her back trying to comfort her. Meanwhile, on the other hand, she was resting her head and chest on him.

“Do you wanna stay the night at my place?” He whispered and she just raised her head now finding him looking down, so he could see her. Y/n just nodded her head slightly. They kept eye contact for a split of a second, to then hide her face in his brown jumper. Feeling a bit awkward, she tried to move but Harry didn’t let her.

“I don’t wanna leave. Not just now.” He sighed, his chest lowered after her.

“Just one more minute…” Harry added lowly, while looking straight up to the clouds, who were still looking dark-grey and dense. Y/n didn’t hesitate, in fact she liked to be with him like that. And she didn’t want the seconds and minutes to pass. But it always did.

[rosy-cheekx]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, The Lonely Fear Domain (The Magnus Archives), Canon-Typical The Lonely Content (The Magnus Archives), Martin Blackwood Feels Lonely, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Tumblr Prompt, Prompt Fill Summary:

"Tea, tea, tea. Rooibos and chamomile for sleepless nights. Herbal for variety. Jon likes caffeinated teas. Maybe some chai? That’ll be good when it gets really cold…god how long will we be here? Through winter? Forever? He could stay here forever if it meant Jon was there too."

Martin can't remember the last time he drank tea. It's unsettling, the habits he picked up and habits he lost while overwhelmed by The Lonely.

Chapter Two is here! Thanks again to @ombreblossom for the prompt suggestion: “please don’t shut me out” and “we can talk through the door.”

Enjoy! (posted below too)

Jon didn’t know what to do. He was worried about Martin, had been for a while, after they had—for lack of a better word—evacuated to Daisy’s unoccupied safehouse. Jon knew Martin needed time, but it was still so strange to see a shell of the man he knew instead of the man he loves.

No, that’s not right. He loves this Martin too, there’s no doubt there. Jonathan Sims, the Archivist, doesn’t think he can put a modifier on that word. Love. “Loved” implies he doesn’t anymore, which he does. “Loves” implies present tense, which is technically true but still doesn’t sit right. It feels like it invalidates all the past versions of Martin, the ones who have waned into this one. Maybe it’s the monster in him, the eldritch being that exists out of time, that Knows and Sees everything at the same time, all the time, forever. But to say he love Martin sounds silly. There must be a better word.

He knows he has love for Martin (better?) when he finds him, quaking or shivering behind a door or in the shower or frozen under the covers. In those moments all he feels is a desperate desire to make things better, to ride out the storm alongside Martin and wish away anything plaguing him. He can’t, but tea and the biggest duvet in the house is close enough. It’ll do for now.

He can feel his love for Martin when Martin reaches out for him, clinging to his hand like a lifeline. Its rare. He’s gotten less tactile since before, well, everything. Martin was always the one to pat your shoulder comfortingly or pull you into a hug when your vision blurs from tears. Apparently people felt so warm to him, as he had told Jon in a calm moment, after he had flinched the first time. Searing hot. Something to do with the relationships they have with others heats them, like embers in their bellies. It was a debilitating reminder that Martin had given up so much, and a curse bent on keeping those relationships at arm’s reach. Literally.

“You’re not too bad,” Martin had said, a ghost of a smile reminding him of the man he knew. “T-that’s probably not good for you, all things considered. But we’ve both lost our connections, haven’t we?”

“Mmm. Everyone but you, I think.”

-

Jon has been too afraid to leave Martin alone. They’ve gone on a few walks together but overall neither of them has left the house. Jon’s afraid to be around people, to hear the whisper of a statement and be unable to resist the pull to Ask, to Know, to Beg for the knowledge if that’s what it takes.

The time has come, though, the day Jon dreaded. They needed to go shopping.

Jon reminded Martin over and over that he didn’t need to come, that he could stay and rest or write poetry or just take a break. But Martin was determined, it seemed, to fight his battles as much as Jon was. Maybe it would be easier to resist with Martin alongside him, his anchor to humanity.

The grocery wasn’t too busy, all things considered, but compared to the ambient silence of the house and the car, the noise was deafening. Jon felt a bit like an AI unit, using his all-powerful powers to figure out where the tinned soups, bread, and tea were stocked.

God that tea. He hadn’t meant to upset Martin, it was just that he knew how vehemently Martin despised oolong. Jon had tried to make it for him a while back at Sasha’s behest; only to return, tail tucked, with a full mug of tea in newly shaky hands. Jon had thought it was because Martin had finally snapped, lost his cool on his new boss. But Martin had stuck his head in the door, mumbling something quick about oolong and his mum and how he hated it now and he was sorry. Jon had forgiven him. He knew what it was like to be caught off guard by something from your past, whatever it was. But now he was here, staring at the spot Martin had been, shivering as a low fog pooled at his feet briefly before dissipating into the air. His connection with the Lonely was wearing off, sure, but it clearly wasn’t completely severed.

Jon vacillated for a moment. Should he stay here? Hope Martin reappears in the same spot he left? He knew that wasn’t how it worked. Martin had told him about the parallel world in which he could walk, this world but lonelier, softer, more distant. The safehouse would still exist in Martin’s world. It was probably the only place Martin could feel secure in. He couldn’t Know where Martin was going; even if he hadn’t promised he didn’t think it would work if he tried. Martin was avoiding being known and seen. He needed space, as much as Jon could give him, until he was ready to come back.

Jon paid for the groceries, grateful the teen at the till barely seemed to acknowledge his existence. No statement to give; mother on her deathbed; irrelevant, unhelpful child; girlfriend cheating with—Stop it.

Fumbling with bags of bread, fruit, tea, rice, pasta, veg, soup, anything that seemed healthy and easy enough to make between the two of them, Jon loaded everything into the car, backseat precariously filled. He drove home (how quick it was, to admit the safehouse felt more like home than anywhere Jon had lived for a while) in silence somehow more deafening than the scratchy Georgia Ann Muldrow playing from the speakers and the bustle of the tiny Scottish village. It was slow-going, half-hoping he’d spot Martin on the drive and half-dreading the idea of getting home and him not being there, willing himself to put that off as long as possible.

Jon did arrive home eventually, however, to a pant leg and shoe slipping through the front door. Martin. He wasn’t sure if the recognition was the Eye or just Jon, but either entity was certain enough in their knowledge.

Making a point to put the car in park, Jon shouted for Martin, diving out of the car as soon as he could and rushed into the house. He couldn’t tell where man he carried such love for had gone; the Eye beckoned, teased him with Knowing. Just this once. To help him. He pushed the thoughts aside and began to systematically check the usual places. The space behind the front door, next to the couch, the bedroom. As Jon closed the door to the apparently empty bedroom he heard shuffling coming from the bathroom and the unfortunately familiar sound of Martin’s suppressed crying.

Jon approached the door with the coiled tension of one approaching an injured wild animal, pressing his ear to the door. “M-Martin? It’s-it’s Jon,” Stupid, obviously. “Are you alright? I mean-I assume not. But—hmm. what can I do?”

“Leave me alone, Jon.” Martin’s voice was muffled; Jon could practically picture him, elbows resting on the sink, face in his hands. “I-I can deal with this myself.”

“I know you can, of course you can, Martin.” Jon ran a hand through his tangled curly hair, tugging on an errant curl as he spoke. “But-just, don’t shut me out. You don’t need to do this alone. You have people who—you have me. I care.” Sigh. “I-It’s the Lonely, Martin, it’s trying to trick you.”

“Its stupid. I-I don’t think I can say it to your face.”

“Then don’t. I can hear you. We can talk through the door. I certainly don’t have anywhere to go.”

Martin was quiet for a while. “It was that stupid tea, of all things.” His voice was slow, shaky; Jon could hear the effort he was taking to keep it controlled. “It made me realize how not me I was, am, whatever.” Jon didn’t speak, didn’t want to break Martin’s focus. “I haven’t drunk tea since Peter. That sounds so-so stupid to be the thing to lose my cool over but it’s more than that. I lost so much of myself, Jon, while you were gone, after my mum, after Peter-fucking-Lukas.”

Oh shit.

“It’s not just that obviously, it’s the loneliness and the touch and the anxiety I feel all the time. I changed so much, Jon, and I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was too late and then I didn’t have a choice. I haven’t felt human in so long and I don’t know what to do with myself now.”

“Martin?”

“I’m cold all the time, Jon, I used to be the warm one! I used to be the one Sasha and Tim and you would cuddle next to during movie nights in the Archives because it was freezing down there and now I can’t get warm.” Martin’s voice was escalating in tone and volume, a fever-pitch of anger and sorrow. “I just want to feel normal again! I don’t want to be lonely anymore, I want to be human!”

“Martin!” Jon had stepped back from the door, watching a faint haze seep out from under the door, thick and white, rising in front of the door. “Martin, what’s happening in there?”

“Wh—Oh!” Jon hear the click and squeak of the door opening, and the fog billowed out tenfold. He could just make out a silhouette of Martin, seemingly more solid than any way he had seemed in a while. Jon stuck out his hand, thin and tight and scarred, and felt another hand, thick and large and warm, grasp his. “Jon, w-what’s happening?”

“I-I’m not sure Martin, I can See, if you like.” He pressed his other hand to Martin’s face, treasuring how warm and soft he felt. “But I think-I think you healed yourself. Not wanting to be lonely, anymore, maybe?” Jon saw the warm, soft, exhausted smile on Martin’s face and was dimly pleased to feel it mimicked on his own.

I love you, he wanted to say. I think I have always loved you and will always love you. But there was time for that, Jon knew. There was time for sleepy love confessions and understanding exactly the right word to define how he felt for the man in front of him. Some things just need time.

(They remembered the groceries about an hour later, when Martin mentioned making a cup of herbal tea.)

[thebeautyofdisorder]

The Undone & The Divine (BBC Dracula) - Chapters 1 & 2

A/N: Okay, I am rusty - very rusty, so feel free to give me some notes. This will be multiple parts - maybe 4 or 5 - and will remain open ended for future additions. It will be a snarky, confused occult monstrosity with a lot of thus far unresolved sexual tension and I'm not sorry. Takes place after the end of The Dark Compass. I will be posting this on AO3 eventually, but for now...

Rating: T, currently just for some blood and maybe language

Pairing: Dracula & Zoe/Agatha 

Can be found on AO3 - Right HERE -

“Wherever this shadowed path might lead, we were both irrevocably committed to follow it to the end.” - Susan Kay, Phantom

                                                       Chapter 1

The first thought that arose in Zoe’s mind was simply that she shouldn’t be having any. No, an inward argument seemed to be countering, but that she had been growing accustomed to. Faith was an inner struggle she was stubbornly coming to terms with, given that there was a very literal opposing force in her ancestor that enjoyed prodding at her modern, atheistic convictions. Not even in religious fervor, nun’s habit notwithstanding, but just for amusement’s sake. She could see where she inherited her argumentative nature from.  

Head swimming, potential psychosis or no, she had expected at least death to be final. A distant bell of alarm jolted somewhere in her mind, as some sense of memory and consciousness began to return to her, soon followed by sensation seeping back to her body. She expected the worst, but what she experienced instead was simply…nothing. The pain which had been her constant companion for the last few months was gone. She didn’t even feel the typical stiffness of a woman pushing forty waking up on a cold, hard surface should rightly feel. 

Cold, hard surface…

Her eyelids shot open, and she sat up so quickly she felt immediately dizzy. At least there was still blood to rush to my head, she mused dimly, though luckily her legs hadn’t gotten the fight or flight message quite as quickly, or else she would have tumbled straight onto the floor. The hard, polished marble beneath her, still sticky with her blood, brought the events of the morning, however distant they were, rushing back to her.

If this wasn’t some twisted form of coma dream, and she wasn’t actually hooked up to some machine at the hospital, she was going to have to have a chat with Auntie Agatha about consenting to suicide by vampire. Mostly due to the fact she was very much alive – or at the very least, moving and conscious. Her hand pressed to her neck, feeling nothing but dried blood surrounding a slightly raised scar at the crook of her shoulder.

Not always equivalent, she reminded herself with barely repressed panic. Or maybe Agatha reminded her. It was becoming harder and harder to tell the difference.

But what of the vampire? 

Half freezing in the semi-darkness, Zoe waited what felt like a decade, searching for any sound or sign of movement in the room…in the flat. Nothing. Silence. 

The natural curiosity of the scientist, refusing to lay dormant any longer, pushed past her fear and uncertainty, and drove her to slide off the edge of the table on shaking legs. There was no sign of Dracula, dead or alive that she could see. Instead her eyes sought out a light switch. 

She half expected to see a large pile of dust and ash, or worse – some sticky pile of blood and skin, like a B-horror film she’d seen as a teenager, but aside of what remained of Lucy, the floor was immaculate, in only the way the living dead could maintain. 

Strangely lacking any sense of urgency, she paced through the rest of the flat, observing the dark modern decor with a distant amusement that belonged more to Agatha than to herself. The washroom was almost entirely unused, save for the large standing shower, more of a luxury than a necessity, she assumed. The kitchenette seemed to be only taking up space, and while there were a few stray tea bags and a chipped mug, likely belonging to some human help – the lawyer probably, the rest of it was barren. Finally reaching the bedroom, she found the curtains still fully drawn, and the bed large and vacant.

If he survived, he was gone. Some unknown part of her felt a pang of disappointment, and an equal echo of triumph. She wasn’t sure which one to blame Agatha for, and she was left no hints.

Well, that was one mystery solved.

Collapsing on the mattress, Zoe closed her eyes, and did something she never thought she’d have to do: she fell silent and listened for her own heartbeat. At first there was an unnerving stillness. Finally, after approximately 15 seconds (she had been counting), she heard the first soft thump in her chest. Half relieved, she let out a breath, and began counting again – she heard it once more. Faint and very slow, but present, yes!

Fascinating. Agatha’s quietly accented tone was one of clinical fascination, something Zoe could ascertain easily as it echoed through her mind.

Zoe quietly agreed. Somehow, she…they were now something more than undead, but less than fully alive. 

Something like the count himself. 

------

There were times that the highly illegal nature of the Harker Institute was a damning thing, and one that caused Zoe great inconvenience. This was not one of those times. A woman previously dying of cancer showing up to work to get a full range of clandestine tests was not something to be trusted to the general public. If she hadn’t been so amazed, she was sure her predecessor would’ve been highly disappointed to see her. 

She had left Dracula’s London flat exactly as it was, and headed straight to the Institute. It wasn’t exactly a police matter, and now that Agatha had destroyed the vampire’s …agoraphobia? Whatever it was she had done, there wasn’t anything they could really do to ward him away. The sun was no longer a viable weapon, and while she was sure his distaste for Christian imagery wouldn’t just vanish overnight, his need to be invited into a location was gone and probably easily forgotten when convenient. 

The dirt…well, that was a different story. She found no trace of it in his flat, save for a musty residue in the corner of a now empty closet. That was the one part of the puzzle she had yet to figure out. Was that just another part of his self-ordained folklore, or did it actually have some restorative power. Did it contain some needed mineral or compound? Surely there was a scientific reason behind it if so.

As scientific as why you’re walking around with half the blood you need to function? Or that you haven’t eaten in 36 hours and have no appetite. You can drink water, at least, that’s a blessing.

She refrained from voicing her annoyance aloud – last thing she needed was for her colleagues to think she was undead AND crazy. Neither of which was entirely true… or entirely false. At least they weren’t locking her up. Not yet. 

“Dr. Helsing?” 

Zoe shook herself from her thoughts to look up at the lab tech who’s just entered the room, giving the girl a distant smile. 

“Yes?” 

“Dr. Bloxham wants to see you downstairs…it’s about your test results.”

Which test results she wanted to ask, but didn’t, merely got up and followed the girl who was taking great pains to keep a healthy distance between them out of the room. She didn’t blame her. It had taken Jonathan Harker a month to show any vampiric urges. They saw her as a ticking time bomb. 

------

“Well, for the positive, any trace of cancer seems to have…vanished from your system.”

Zoe had guessed as much, and perhaps her lack of reaction was what brought the look of concern to her colleague’s face.

“And for the negative?” 

The other woman silently bit her lip for a moment, and instead of immediately responding, she stood from her chair and gestured for Zoe to take the seat in front of the computer. 

Pointing from over her shoulder, Bloxham indicated two files in the folder in front of her. One was labeled with Zoe’s name, and the other was data collected from Dracula’s blood sample. 

“What’re you trying to show me?” She sounded tired, and perhaps she was. It was hard to tell anymore. The enfeebled exhaustion she had felt constantly up until the night before was gone, but the memory lingered like a bad taste in her mouth.

“Open them.” The comment was clipped, but more in anticipation than impatience. 

Zoe did just that, and looked over the standard blood analysis results. To say the differences were minimal was almost too generous. 

“I don’t know what happened to you exactly – given you won’t tell me…,” she began, eyeing Zoe with a meaningful look, “But your DNA is...I don’t want to say mutated, but...altered. You’re alive, don’t get me wrong – but your readings all look as though they should come from someone on the verge of death – in a coma at the least! And well…look at you.” It was rhetorical, Zoe knew, but she still found herself seeking out the nearest reflective surface, just to ensure she saw her own face as she knew it looking back at her. 

“I can’t force you, but I’m going to strongly recommend you stay here so you can be closely monitored for any further….changes.” 

Zoe, never one to be a victim of circumstance, rolled her eyes with a casual scoff. If she was going to be anyone’s lab rat, it might as well be her own. 

“Well, obviously. I want every even minimal change documented to the fullest,” she agreed, immediately standing to her feet and stalking over to a microscope she knew without needing to ask contained a slide of her sample, rerouting her focus. “Have you compared the saliva?” 

The other woman’s relief was palpable. Or maybe she could smell it? Zoe shook that possibility off, quickly, refusing to jump to that particular conclusion quite so quickly. 

“Still waiting for the full analysis, but what I do have is Dracula’s sample, which is frankly…fascinating,” Dr. Bloxham stated excitedly, eyeing Zoe with a curious expression as she approached, her caution taking a backseat to her excitement. 

“Oh?” A woman after her own heart.

“Yes… take a look,” she offered, changing the slides quickly and offering the scope back for her perusal. “It contains some almost psychotropic like compound. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Zoe felt her body temperature rise for the first time since she’d awoken in London. She wasn’t sure if she had the circulation to blush, but she dearly hoped not. For once, there was no snarky Dutch echo in her mind – in fact, aside from a flash of orange light, and blink of another memory she couldn’t latch onto, her mind went suspiciously quiet. 

“Yes. Fascinating.”

                                                 Chapter 2

Frank Renfield considered himself a generally normal man, by all intents and purposes. In fact, he had always been considered normal to the point of being right boring, so it was he himself who was most surprised how easily he had adjusted to playing personal assistant, in matters both legal and practical, to a blood drinking supernatural entity. On that note, it was with only minimal confusion that he found himself returning to his residence after a resolutely boring day at the office, to find his front door broken half off the hinges, and a trail of thick, congealing blood leading through his sitting room straight through to the loo. 

“Master?” He called, uneasily, taking care to hop over a particularly dark pool seeping out from under the door. 

He was met with silence, save for a subtle gurgling sound that brought a wince to his face, though it was not coming from his loo any more, but from the spare bedroom directly adjacent. He used to have a flatmate, but he’d moved months ago. The room now contained nothing but junk, some gym equipment he never used, and a few large crates that Count Dracula had asked him to store, though why he had no idea. 

“C-count?” Renfield stammered, his hand turning the knob. Taking a deep, staggered breath, he finally pushed open the door.  

The treadmill in the corner of the room, heavy and outdated as it was, was toppled and resting almost completely upside down. A box of heavy and expensive law tomes had been dumped out across the floor, and the box was now leaking a dark liquid which had soaked through the cardboard. The lid of one of the large wooden crates was splintered, and half-resting against the back of the door, making it impossible to push all the way open, though Renfield could see well enough from the hall that the crate was now overflowing with some sort of dark soil, and it was the tall form of what he assumed to be his master that was splayed at an unnatural angle inside of it, though he did not look like his suave and put together self.

His shirt was torn, and stained almost entirely in various shades of black, red and rust brown. His hair was graying in reverse, as though the color had dripped out of the roots, plastered around his aging face. 

“Renfield…”

He heard the name whispered inside his mind, Frank realized with mild horror, because the sound that came from the creature in front of him was too much of a croak to contain any proper syllables. Finding the strength to force himself into the room, he rushed to the vampire’s side only to realize with a strange sort of amusement that the entire mess seemed to be due to Dracula vomiting all over his flat much like he had after his first college party. A stomach ache for a vampire, apparently was much worse than for a hungover teenage boy, however.

“Master! You seem to have eaten someone very unhealthy for you…. One moment.” 

Dodging around the pools of what he could only assume was half-digested blood, Frank squeezed back out of the room and came back with a sterile bag of B-positive that he cautiously presented to the weakened form. 

“Picked it up from the blood bank this morning… nuclear physicist, visiting from Sweden…seemed to be a wasted opportunity,” he offered, weakly, but he needn’t have bothered. The vampire had already punctured the bag with one of his ghastly sharpened nails before he’d opened his mouth and was sucking it down with a sharp and unsettling growl, and Renfield didn’t stay around to watch.

“I’ll go and…fetch something more lively, hm?” And with that he scuttled out of the room, before the count could regain the strength to seek out the next source of sustenance in sight…mainly him.

-------

“How are you feeling?”

“Indestructible.” 

Indestructible. That had been the word he’d used, just before the ship had sent him to his century long sleep. He never thought for a moment that it would be true, nor that he would have any reason to lament that fact. And yet… here he laid. Weak, indeed. In pain, surely. But very much alive… as alive as he could get anyway. He had forced himself to ingest the poison, and he had waited for death’s sweet embrace. Nothing. He just laid there, the sun beaming directly into his eyes, his stomach roiling like it hadn’t done since he was an insipid mortal, and yet he never even lost consciousness!  For once he had sought out oblivion, instead of fighting it, and it wouldn’t take him! The nerve! He had given death hundreds…thousands over the years! And she would still turn him away like some sort of petulant beggar. 

It was hours before he decided that if death wasn’t going to be quick about it that there really was no use waiting around. Zoe’s body lay stiff beside him, and though he knew the likelihood was slim, the sick ones rarely did more than rot, he left her there just in case. If he were any less…himself, he would’ve labeled it a blind, potential hope that she would rise again. That if he were going to be stuck being alive (not that it wasn’t her bloody fault he was suddenly so aggravated by that!), that maybe she would be stuck with him. Would serve them right… the Van Helsing women, the biggest inconveniences he’d had in his whole un-life. 

He couldn’t stay there…that boy knew where he was, and would no doubt send someone to look for him, or return himself. He considered, of course, waiting around, but honestly he didn’t even know if a stake to the heart was worth bothering to test at this rate. All of his other beliefs were useless… his fears. Why would he think just because it’s worked on some half-mad fledglings it would even work on him? Luckily he knew better than to keep his potentially useless dirt all in one place, at the least. Would he eventually regenerate without it? He didn’t know anymore. All his memories seemed to twist and deform. And with five centuries worth, that was an awful lot. 

A chance he decided not to take. If he survived this, he would need to buy his lawyer new carpet. He would need to do a lot of things. Perhaps venture south of the equator. 

------

It was fascinating how much the lack of needing to eat and sleep as often, nor attend five different doctors, affected her time management skills. Zoe felt like she never ran out of time, for research or reading or…well, that was it really. That was what she devoted her time to – not just for the sake of others now, but for her own future.  So much so that not leaving the institute didn’t really seem like a confinement at all, even though that was precisely what it was. 

As the days turned into a week, the other doctors – her friends, her colleagues, became even more unsettled by her presence. Not because she looked, or behaved like a walking corpse, but just the sheer lack of human ‘distractions’ she participated in. Also the constant shifting of vocal inflection didn’t seem to help.

Apparently Sister Agatha Van Helsing was not going anywhere. Either she wasn’t able to, didn’t want to, or had permanently infected her mind. She was beginning to get used to it. She had to wonder if Dracula himself ever had issues like this with anyone. Did Agatha hound him to? How much of his personality is his own and how much is taken from his victims? One had to assume it was the superstition of his victim pool that had tainted his own beliefs – that and the fact that even he refused to embrace the art of being a predator with limitless power. 

She sincerely hoped that wherever he’d gone to, he’d kept that in mind. Something told her, however, that he wasn’t actually that far. It wasn’t a voice, or any particular deductive reasoning that gave her that knowledge. It was just something she knew, however unsettling that fact was. 

“Zoe!” 

She frowned, blinking out of her daze. Dr. Bloxham was blocking her from pacing back to the computer where she’d been unconsciously headed. 

“Love, you have got to get out of here for a while. You haven’t slept longer than 3 hours a night since you’ve been here, you barely eat. You need to take a break.” 

Zoe sighed, reluctantly relenting her attention. 

“My body’s becoming intolerant to certain...things, I’m currently trying to find out what it isn’t intolerant to. And what it’s desperately lacking – iron, for starters. Does that help?” 

“Great. We’ll figure out what it’s intolerant to at the pub, before you drive yourself batty… no pun intended.” 

“I don’t drink,” she protested, but found herself shrugging out of her lab coat anyway.

“You stopped drinking because you were ill, which you no longer are,” the other woman protested, quite logically unfortunately, taking the coat from her. “Besides, there’s food there as well, which you desperately need, and sunlight would do you good. Have you even tried to eat anything but crisps and Chinese take away? Maybe you need something a little more tangible, that’s all.”

She sincerely doubted it, but anything – even tossing up her guts at a pub – was better than everyone looking at her like some sort of foreign contagion. She wasn’t a vampire. Not yet, and if she could help it, she never would be. 

---

Edited to add tags for the people on this hellsite that have been keeping me from writing this by posting their own undead content that I’ve been consuming instead - be it fic or gifs or playlists or just thirsty shitposts. Ha, I have defied your attempts at distraction, but I honor you all the same: @my-fanfic-library @ohveda @imagineandimagine @wannabebloodsucker @hoefordarkness @mymagicsuitcase @crazytxgradstudent @itendedbadly @theplumsoldier @gatissed @allfandoms-writings @littlemessyjessi @punk-courtesan @vampiregirl1797

I’m sure I’ve forgotten many of you, but I legit just scrolled my last week worth of likes, and now I have to go to the dentist, then hope I’m not too whiny to finish my fanvid. 

[figchn]

CHAPTER 2

April Showers: Expect the Expected and then Some...

continued from Chapter 1

“Did you see how her face turned white like this?” Faustina’s poor attempt at imitation did little to calm Puri’s nerves.

“But you’re all right now, aren’t you?”, Faustina’s eyes crinkled into half-moons as she turned towards the other girl and patted her on the shoulder. Puri replied with a small smile and a nod.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t seem like it with your hands gripping so tightly on your cup.” The faintest of lines formed on Faustina’s forehead “Say, did my brother say anything strange or funny to you earlier?”

“Why do you always think so lowly of me, Tining?” Fabian groaned.

He had been smoking in the far end of the room beside the large windows that looked into the garden below. The next moment, he was leaning over the center table and taking out his cigar on the carved ashtray that lay on it.

“She’s just shy. Aren’t you, Puri?, he smiled as he glanced towards her.

Puri restrained flinching. There was something uncomfortable being given a nickname by someone who was, after all, practically a stranger. She stood up and set her teacup and saucer on the table.

“May I excuse myself for a moment?”

Puri locked the door behind her and glanced at her reflection. The mirror’s gilded frame did nothing but highlight her frazzled appearance. She made a face at her faded dress that had the color of, and looked as fresh as a bunch of dried leaves. Usually, she dressed up as nicely as she could because she did give a lot of importance to appearance.  It was just that she didn’t think she had to worry so much about that when she took the early morning train that day. She felt some shame being in the same room as the Fajardo siblings and the realization made her think even smaller of herself.

Puri could not help but wonder at how she got herself into this situation in the first place. Was not the fence built to keep strange people like her away? Even with how polite and charming they had, so far, been to her, she knew enough to know that they inhabited a world quite different from hers.

For one, theirs was a world with the true marvel that was indoor plumbing, she thought while staring at the sparkling sheen of the porcelain toilet. Maybe they had invited her in out of pity after they had seen her tattered suitcase and had heard the badly timed growling of her stomach. Puri shook her head at the memory. Consoling herself, she thought, “They probably asked me on a whim. These rich people are always bored. If they want someone to play with, and then play with them I shall.”

Puri took one last deep breath before stepping out of the washroom. Feigning confidence, she strutted down the hallway leading back to the living room. Before she could turn the corner, a figure emerged from the opposite direction causing her to stumble backward. Puri stopped her backward momentum a step before crashing into glass case of a life-sized statue of Saint Anne who soon received a short prayer of apology from the girl.  

When Puri looked back, she saw the man from the corner turned towards her. She couldn’t quite make out his face with the light of the open windows coming in from behind him. Puri opened her mouth to apologize but before she could make any sound, the man turned and walked away. She decided it best to wait there for a few moments lest they suspiciously return to the living room together.

She looked around and the saints that lined the hallway looked down on her with their unblinking but kindly eyes.  Her earlier resolve at not letting the situation get the better of her had dissolved almost completely. Scared that she might make a fool of herself once more, she walked slowly without making a sound.

“Who allowed you two to let strangers into the house?”, Puri heard a man’s voice hiss in a low tone as she neared the living room. He sat on one of the solo wicker chairs with his back turned against her and she recognized the figure belonged to the man from earlier.

“Aren’t you being too much, Milyong?”, said Faustina, pouting.

Fabian, who was still pacing around the chairs followed “Yep, and besides, Puri isn’t a stranger. Look, there she is now!”

“Well, don’t just stand there! Sit here beside me”, Faustina patted the space next to her with expectant eyes.

Puri shuffled to the chaise and hesitated a bit before sitting down. She lowered her eyes and kept them fixed on her shoes.

“My brother and I have been terrible to you, Puri. We forgot to mention that we are also guests in this house. We’re the Fajardo children, by the way, and we live down the street.”, Faustina sounded too casual to be sincerely apologetic.  “But don’t worry, everyone’s welcome in the good doctor Tayson’s home. Well, at least, downstairs, anyway. Our old friend Maximiliano here just has a nasty bark, but he never bites.”

 “Well, now that’s out of the way... Maxi, meet your new number one fan!”, Fabian cheered.

“We know the stuff you play isn’t much appreciated yet around these parts, so we got excited when we heard someone clap right after today’s morning performance”, Faustina added. “We thought maybe you could be friends.”

“Wouldn’t it a refreshing change from the usual jeers of the old man next door?”, Fabian chided. “Puri, go tell him how you felt about his playing. He always thinks we’re just joking when we tell him he’s good.”

Puri finally looked up and saw Milyong’s eyes studying her face behind his round spectacles. She trained her eyes on the crystal ashtray on the table, instead. “To be honest, the song you were playing had been stuck in my head all morning even before I passed by. I couldn’t remember the words to it, and I wondered if I might ever hear it again ...so I .. I was amazed to hear it here and I clapped. That’s all ”.

Milyong scoffed.

“Oh, come on, now...Milyong, is that any way to treat your guest?” Faustina frowned at him and was going to say more but was interrupted by the clock striking eight.

“Shouldn’t we be going by now? I’ll call the chauffeur.”, Fabian was out of the room in seconds.

“I almost forgot! I told you earlier that you could have one of my suitcases. I must go check if they’ve already been brought in.”, Faustina quickly rose from her seat.

“Oh no, Ma’am Faustina, thank you but I can’t accept. You’ve already given me so much ...so much food”, Puri tried to reason.

“But you only took exactly two sips of the coffee. I was watching you the whole time. Do you not like the food?” Faustina suddenly wore a grave expression which made Puri want to run away from her.

 “Also, don’t call me Faustina ...” .

“I didn’t mean t-”

Faustina broke into a breathy laugh. “Just call me Tining... was what I was going to say. I’m sorry for doing that. You’re just so uptight that I couldn’t help it.” She heaved a long contented sigh before walking out the room.

Puri could see now how the two Fabian siblings were indeed related. She wondered why she didn’t dislike them even if they had acted almost like bullies, and she chided herself for making excuses for them just because they seemed to her like seraph statues escaped from church.

Thinking this, she became aware of a malicious entity that stayed with her in the room. She considered telling him goodbye then sneaking out of the house and just forgetting about the whole morning altogether. She should have been back in her own home an hour ago. Milyong was probably wishing her gone, too, which would explain the dark aura he was emanating.

The thought that he should dislike her when she hasn’t done anything began to annoy her a little. Sure, maybe she had trespassed, but that was not entirely her fault, was it? In any case, she told herself, he is the rude one in the situation. She wondered how such beautiful music could come out of such an unpleasant person. Puri glared at the grandfather’s clock in the corner and watched its pendulum bob with each long second. She heard his teaspoon swirling around his cup in an uneven rhythm.  This did nothing to calm Puri’s nerves. 

She was just about to ask him if he had not stirred his sugar enough yet, when he started. “The song I was playing is actually one of my favorites.”

Puri took her first good look at him. His black coat hung loosely on his frame that was slender, almost fragile, compared to the robustness of the Fajardo siblings. His features, though smaller than most, sat harmoniously on his pale face, the contrast of which, with his dark hair, eyes, and accompanying shadows, added to a general aura of melancholy, if not sickliness. His parted his hair in a style that had been last popular during the turn of century and his equally old-fashioned spectacles sat a little too large on his face. Puri thought he rather looked like the opposite of his house which she found amusing. The corners of her lips turned up involuntarily.

“Getting along well with your new friend, are you, Maxi? I hate to interrupt you two, but we have to leave now” Fabian had suddenly walked into the room.

Milyong stiffened in his seat before abruptly standing up. He paused as if he wanted to say something before leaving the room with his hands clenched to his sides. The sound of his footsteps pounded heavy and fast on the grand wooden staircase.

“Geez, what was that about....” Fabian spoke to no one in particular.

Puri tried to not visibly squirm in the backseat of the Tayson’s roomy six-seater sedan as it rolled out the driveway. She sat beside Faustina who had coerced her into being driven home by refusing to return the suitcase and its newly transferred contents that were now snuggled comfortably in the compartment.

“If it’s not too rude asking, why were you out walking so early, suitcase in hand?”, Tining’s eyes shone with curiosity.

“I was on my way home ..from Manila. I study there but we’re on our break now.”

“Oh really? Fabian and I actually study there, too, and we’d also just driven home this morning. We thought about staying there for a few days more to have some fun and all now that school’s out but we figured Milyong would miss us too much.”  Faustina let out in a stream.

“Even if we see him every weekend. He may not look like it but he actually likes us” Fabian interjected from the back seat where he sat alone.

Puri thought it sensible to not reveal her address to these people she just met when Faustina asked her where she would like to be dropped off.  She asked them to stop at the corner of the main road but Faustina refused on the grounds of the sky being as dark as it was midday. In the end, they eventually reached the very street of Puri’s home. It was a narrow dust road that was too narrow for the car to enter.

“Ooh what bad luck, it just started raining. Can one of you help Puri walk home? I might have packed in a fair bit of, erm, gifts in the suitcase I gave her”, Faustina watched the droplets roll of the window.

“Unfortunately, I’m stuck here so Maxi will have to do it. Besides, he is the only one not in white today.” Fabian almost but shouted from the back.

The driver gave Milyong a look as if to apologize for also being in white before the boy could whine.

Milyong climbed out, slammed the door shut and trudged to the back of a car. Moments later, he was under an umbrella and knocking impatiently on Puri’s window.

“How could you pack only one umbrella?!”, Milyong shouted over the rain.

“Oops. I guess you have to walk beside together then. The umbrella looks large enough.”, Faustina said.

“What if I just walk alone? I’ve alrea-“

“No. You won’t do anything like that.” Puri could not say no to Faustina when she used that tone of voice so she got out and quickly got under the umbrella with Milyong.

“If he gives you any trouble, just bully him like we do, and he’ll stop.”, Fabian shouted.

Milyong glared at him and shut the door even louder than before and started walking. Puri caught up with him to the back of the car.

“Well, go get your stuff. We haven’t got all day.”

Puri gave a great huff as she took the suitcase Faustina had given her. It was twice as large and probably thrice as heavy as her original luggage. ‘What in the world did Faustina put in there?’, she thought. In any case, she felt a little thankful she didn’t have to walk home alone because she indeed needed her two arms to lift the damned thing.

As soon as she had slammed the compartment shut, Milyong started walking again at a rapid pace. Puri tried to keep up but the weight of the suitcase slowed her down significantly.

“You’d get mud in your pants if you keep that up” Fabian shouted from the back window. That seemed to do the trick.

Soon, Milyong and Puri were walking side by side and saying not a word to each other. The water poured down in torrents for a few minutes and it slowed them down greatly. The strip of bare soil they were walking on had turned muddy and they spent a good deal of time trying to skip over them. Rice stalks grew tall on either side of them and seemed to drink up rain. It was still what could only be called the middle of a Philippine summer with its glaring light and stifling humidity. The rain was a welcome respite.

The smell of wet ground permeated the air. All around can be heard the sound of amphibians that had awakened. They hopped gleefully around the fields and out. One of these frogs jumped right in front of Milyong who himself jumped back. The creature hopped away unbothered to the sound of Puri’s laughter.

 “How much further is this house of yours?”, Milyong fumed.

“Why? Are you scared of running into more frogs?”

“No. I just think they’re slimy and their splashing around might make my pants dirtier.”

“It is amazing how your pants are still clean.”, Puri eyed his trousers which were still immaculately black. “It would be a shame if I were to-”

“You wouldn’t dare.”, Milyong’s eyes narrowed.

Puri gave a little stomp of her foot on a muddy puddle, whose resulting splash Milyong deftly dodged.

“Stop it, you crazy woman!”

Milyong had by then taken more than a few steps back from Puri who was quickly getting wetter by the moment. Laughing under the rain like that with her disheveled hair plastered all over her face and neck, she indeed did look quite mad.

“Fabian was right. Annoying you is great fun.”

Puri suddenly found herself having enough energy to run while carrying the suitcase.  She leaped at Milyong who had brought down the umbrella like a shield. The game continued on for a minute or two and greatly hastened their little expedition.

The rain, meanwhile, had quieted into a drizzle, which itself quickly faded as the sun peeked out behind the clothes. Soon, all that remained of the downpour were mud and a certain quality of stickiness to the atmosphere that was almost oppressive.

“Look.”, said Puri, out of breath. The sun had come out triumphantly and cast a golden clear light on everything. The rice fields now positively glowed and seemed like they had grown even taller.

“Oh, thank God.”

Milyong turned around to see the thatched roof of Puri’s house peeking behind a large mango tree. When he glanced back at Puri, she found her hunched over with her hands on her knees.

“Hey, are you ok?”

Puri suddenly felt light-headed and she remembered that the only thing she had eaten all day was two sips of coffee at Milyong’s house. She mentally noted never to refuse free food again.

“No, it’s fine. I can carry it on my own, thank you for your concern. “

“Ehm...are you sure? You really don’t look well.”

Milyong had started to take the suitcase handle off her hands. She quickly swatted him away.

“Yes, besides we’re almost there.”

“If you say so.”, Milyong shrugged.

Puri collected herself and her stuff for what she hoped was the last time that day. She comforted herself with the thought that she was finally almost home after an unusually long morning. She started her walk again, but it did not last very long. The last thing she saw before everything turned black was Milyong’s equally dark silhouette getting farther and farther away. 

For Chapter 3, click here

Author’s Note:

this isn’t the 1920s song from the first chapter also entitled “April Showers” but I think this one fits the whole mood of the chapter better than the song that appears in the story.

[theyrealllegends]

Careful (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Chapter Summary: As promised, you went out to have drinks with Roger and the boys after your final exam not knowing what the night would bring

Author’s Note: I love soft Rog if I may say so myself. There’s going to be a little bit of action in this chapter and a bit of angst maybe? Hope you enjoy it, kids!

Words: ~2.5k

Warnings: swearing and drinking

Chapter 3:

Previous Parts: Ch. 1, Ch. 2

The drive home from your new flat was fun because in the middle of the talk the two of them fell silent and you could see Freddie stare at Roger in disbelieve before Roger moved really slowly to turn up the radio’s volume.

Roger snorted before he turned to you at a red light. “You hear that, love? And this fucker in the backseat said we were too bad to be played on the radio!” His imitation of Freddie and the fact that he started beaming with luck made you smile but as Freddie raised his voice to sing along to the song - and it was no-one else but him singing the original one, his voice was truly glorious - and Roger ran his hand through his hair before softly humming some background notes, it almost made you cry. It was a beautiful song and hearing Roger’s husky yet somehow deep singing voice gave you goosebumps in the best way possible. 

When you got home after your exam on Monday, you went straight to Roger’s room and dropped yourself on the bed next to him. 

“I fucking did it”, you told him and he laughed, starting to run his fingers through your hair. 

“Yes, you did. Also, you already adapted to Freddie’s talking.” He was right, you never swore. And you had no idea what had made you that moment but it didn’t really matter, because seconds later you were asleep. 

You woke up to somebody’s laugh and the smell of pizza. You also noticed, that Roger must had taken your shoes off and covered yourself in one of his blankets. When you carefully peeked into the kitchen there were Roger, Freddie and two other, long haired men you’d never seen.

“Oh, there you are, princess”, Roger said beaming, as he got up. “I hope they didn’t wake you, we got you pizza. Vegetarian, right?”

“Thanks”, you said smiling. “I’ll make myself look decent.”

“Bullocks, Tiffany”, Freddie called you out. “You’re a sweet angel, especially compared to the look of these two”, he said, nodding into the direction of the two strangers. “That one’s Brian and this is John.”

“Nice to meet you”, you said and forced yourself to smile at them as if it wasn’t weird to have two men you’d never seen before in your flat. Brian smiled back while John looked at his pizza and blushed in a way you could relate to what made you feel better in an instant. 

“Come on, your pizza will get cold”, Roger told you, putting a hand on your lower back and softly guiding you to the table. 

“I’ll just grab a chair from my room”, you told him as the situation dawned on you but Roger just shrugged it off. 

“You’re tiny and a freaking athlete, Tiffy, don’t you think I’ll be able to handle your weight for the time it takes you to eat a pizza?”, he asked and you fell silent because you had no comeback for that, even though you were willing yourself hard to come up with some witty remark. Especially since you believed you’d be close to his height in heels. So you just allowed Roger to pull you onto one of his legs and the only comfort you found was that John blushed, too, as you felt your face burn. 

*-*-*-*-*-*

You tried not to stumble as Brian held the pub’s door open for you, smiling and you followed Freddie and Roger who were looking around with nothing but self-esteem, making you feel like they owned the place. They even made the waitress rush as they had settled on a table and you were trying to catch a breath through all the smoke and the smell of liquor in the air. 

“You alright?”, Roger asked you, his face close to yours so he wouldn’t have to yell for you to hear him. 

“Just thankful that you don’t smoke at home”, you told him and he chuckled softly, before putting his hand on Freddie’s lighter so he couldn’t motion it towards the cigarette between his lips. 

“You don’t smoke, love?”

“I’m a bore, I fear”, you told him and unintentional made the boys laugh, smiling at you heart-warmingly. 

“You’re most certainly not”, Brian assured you and John nodded in agreement. 

“What can I get you?”, the waitress interrupted Roger who was about to agree with Brian. 

“Four large pale ales and something sweet for our angel girl”, Freddie said before you could even think of something that wouldn’t mess with your head while not proving Brian wrong. “Oh, get her a cider, please!” Roger rolled his eyes at him but you tried to give him a reassuring smile, you could handle a little white wine, what harm could apple wine do you?

Except that it didn’t end with the first glass because one of the boys would just go for the same order in one hand-movement, probably to safe time. But as you lost count of how many ciders you’d had, you also didn’t mind about the smoke anymore. Actually, all you wanted to do was lean into Roger’s shoulder who at some point had sneaked his arm behind your body on top of the bench the two of you sat on with Freddie. You couldn’t take your eyes off his cigarette, the way he held it between two fingers, how he’d put it between his lips, inhale the smoke deeply and then letting it escape his mouth in a direction away from your face. You noticed you weren’t the only one feeling buzzed on the table as John, who they just called Deaky, started talking, making you giggle with his sharp tongue. 

“You good, babe?”, Roger assured himself again as you didn’t have second thoughts about resting your head against his muscular shoulder anymore. 

“Perfectly fine”, you mumbled, smiling while running your fingers through your hair. Roger’s eyes followed your movement and he smiled back at you. He looked like he held himself back from kissing the top of your head or something, but what did you know. 

“You should head home, soon, Fred”, Brian said at some point. It was too dark and your sight too blurred for you to read your wristwatch but you were sure he was right. “Mary hates it when you get home that late.”

“I hate to admit it, but you’re right”, Freddie said, grinning, before softly touching your shoulder. “You want to share a cab?”

“When it’s no longer our place or yours, Fred, but right now that wouldn’t make any sense and I’m not paying for your ride”, Roger said before you could say something. 

“Sharing a cab with you sounds fun to me, though”, you told him and Freddie’s face lit up. 

“You’re too sweet, Tiff.”

The way home wasn’t as bad as you’d feared. Roger’s arm was around your shoulders and yours was tightly around his waist to keep each other warm and stable and he was smoking with his free hand while the two of you couldn’t care less about the rain that made your hair frizz up or the cold wind whistling on the corners of the almost empty street. The fresh air helped you catch an easier breath than the smoke in the pub had let you and it made the pain behind your eyes vanish. It wasn’t until you tried to unlock your apartment’s door that you finally realised why Roger always had a hard time to be quiet. Getting your keys into the lock was an incredibly hard task and you felt like you needed the wall to be stable on the way to your room as Roger’s arms were around you all of a sudden. You covered your mouth to hold back the surprised scream that had formed in your throat as he carried you to your door bridal style. He softly put you down on your tidily made bed and your fingers caught the collar of his striped button down as you let yourself sink into your pillows. Roger laughed as his body moved on top of yours, his hands softly cupping your cheeks and his eyes beaming with joy. 

“You have no fucking idea how sexy you are, Tiffy”, he mumbled, his voice huskier than usual and his breath made you shiver as it touched your neck. 

“What makes you say that?”, you questioned as he moved to lie next to you. He fumbled around a little, so he could take off his coat and then extended one arm for you to rest your head on it. You started running your fingers over his ribcage, suddenly wishing he had worn something that wouldn’t cover his skin like this button down did. 

“It’s the way you move and your eyes, mostly”, Roger said moving closer. You ran your fingers through his hair as his head was above yours again. He closed his eyes and moaned silently as you gripped some of the strands, noticing that touching his hair was something you secretly had wanted to do for a long time. Roger’s lips felt hot as they found yours but he at least tried to keep the kiss soft and at you pace as you got over the initial shock. Then you felt a tingle in your whole body that made you feel light and all warm on the inside, making you wish to feel more of him, his body close to yours and his bare skin under your fingers. At some point, Roger pulled you on top of him, so the two of you could continue the heated kiss while you finally unbuttoned his shirt and his hands were under your dark-grey turtleneck, touching your waist and your tummy but only up to your belly button, as if he was scared you wouldn’t want him to get dirty with you. 

*-*-*-*-*-*

When you woke up, your heartbeat was loudly pounding in your head and you felt like you could finish three bottles of water in a row. You tried to turn around and moaned because the room started spinning around you in the process, leaving you to lie on your back and stare at the ceiling until it eventually got better. Finally, you managed to sit up and put your feet on the ground, even though you didn’t really know how you were able to walk and make it to your door without knocking down your wardrobe in the process. Maybe it was the smell of grilled cheese and the thought that carbs would soak up the leftover alcohol in your body that gave you the strength to make it to the kitchen. Your heart clenched as you spotted Roger, preparing you tea in just his jeans and you thought about how he must’ve felt when he’d woken up. You thought it was impossible that from all men, Roger Meddows Taylor could be interested in you. The girls he’d had in the past were all incredibly pretty, with blond hair and big boobs - or big butts, or both, really - and white smiles and everything you didn’t have. 

“Morning, love”, he mumbled to your surprise. His voice was hoarse and it made you shiver. 

“Hey”, you answered, noticing the pain in your throat and Roger smiled, as you moved over to sit on the kitchen’s counter while he was carefully putting hot water on the tea bags in the two mugs you two had chosen were your favourite ones. 

“You okay?”, he asked you softly, running his fingers over you leg quickly before biting his lip and removing his fingers.

“Everything’s hurting but I shall survive”, you said and he laughed what made him cough a few seconds later. 

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable last night”, he said as he caught his breath again. 

“I was thinking just the same”, you mumbled, blushing.

“You’re a fucking precious girl, I really shouldn’t be touching you, at all, actually.”

“But -”, you tried to come up with an argument, hating your law infused brain failing to do so. 

“You’re just -“, Roger tried to explain, looking lost and you started to feel sick as he was searching for the next words, trying to get ready for the pain he’d make you feel but knowing you’d never be prepared for his rejection. He could make you melt in his hands and you’d never felt the desire to be close to someone that Roger made you feel. “You’re so pure, you know? I don’t want you to lose your innocence because I really don’t deserve that.” He fell silent as he could see tears in your eyes and Roger’s heart clenched. 

He’d loved every single second about last night, every noise he had pulled from your lips; your soft moans and your heavy breaths had been music to his ears. The way your fingers pulled at his hair or moved over his body before finally getting rid of his shirt send electric shocks through every last corner of his body, making him want you like he’d never wanted anything else before. Your smell made his senses go crazy and feeling your heartbeat close to his as you fell asleep was the most peaceful experience he’d had in his whole life. Yet here he was, trying to fight down his boner which he knew was a battle he couldn’t win as long as he had you so close to him. He knew he wasn’t good, would never be good enough for you and the last thing he wanted was to make you cry - which was exactly what he did with his words. 

“Tiff, please”, he said softly. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, babe, I don’t want you to cry for me!” You had a hard time breathing and the look on his face, the worry in his eyes made it worse. 

“No, I’m sorry”, you got out somehow, trying to move away from him but you couldn’t move as you saw the muscles under his skin stiffen and his gaze becoming desperate. “Can we just have this tea, please?”

“Of course”, he didn’t hesitate to answer softly. He pulled out the tea bags and moved for the fridge to hand you the creamer. It took you another cup to be able to carefully slip off the counter before you sat on the table and silently ate the grilled cheese Roger had made for the two of you. It was the best thing you had eaten in your whole life, it felt like, especially because it really helped to clear your thoughts. 

“Rog?”

“Hm”, he let out to let you know he was listening.

“We’re alright, aren’t we?”

“If you’re alright, I am, Tiffy.”

“I am”, you said and he smiled. 

“I’m glad, love.”

Tags:

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[fandumb-thoughts]

I’m actually working on trying to finish chapters on things, look at me. (Now I just need to actually write follow up chapters…drat.) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Martha Kent had created quite a name for herself in the vigilante community. Not really the ones that were around in the present. She and her husband liked their little farm and sleepy town just fine without superheroes crashing in every few days or so–not including, of course, their son, their grandchildren, and their occasional guests. No, Martha Kent’s real name came from the time travellers. It became a mantra of sorts. “If you get sent anywhere in time, seek out Smallville. If it isn’t there yet, go to 38.19 N 100.13 W. You’ll know what you’re looking for when you see it.” Vigilantes murmured it to one another when it seemed magic could be involved, and yelled the coordinates across battlefields as sci-fi lasers began to fly, and mentioned it to every newbie that made an appearance. No one but those who actually needed them actually sought out the location for themselves, not after it had been vetted by some of the oldest and most experienced heroes. No one who needed them spoke of what they had seen there, because there was very little reason to other than to repeat the information everyone had heard a hundred times before. ���38.19 N 100.13 W.” ~~~~~ When Martha and Jonathan Kent began to look into buying an old farmhouse and maybe a couple fields if they could afford it in the tail end of the seventies, they weren’t expecting to settle where they did. For one, the house was not nearly as derelict as Martha had expected it to be, nor were the chicken coop and garden shed. For another, there was a fully functional barn that only needed a few new boards and a fresh coat of paint before a couple of cows could be moved in. And the fields that it came with! Not that she didn’t want a large farm, but the three fields, the pasture, and the half-acre of yard space around the house seemed a bit much for their budget. “What’s the catch?” Jonathan had joked with the land owner, who had inherited it after his father passed. “I haven’t the faintest,” admitted the man. “My father had a might bit of trouble renting this place out after he bought it on auction back in ‘38. Lots of loonies come through here, and Dad was never quite able to find a buyer, and could only keep renters for a few years on average, if that.” Jonathan sent an appraising eye over the full view of the property. “Well, we might be just the people to get it off your hands. What’a’ya think, Martha?” “Hm,” she hummed, non committedly. The property was strange, and the last thing they needed after the debacle in Los Angeles was strange. One demon-infested apartment building was all the excitement she needed in the next few decades, if she had anything to say about it. Of course her husband, having only been her fiance at the time and living with a couple roommates a few blocks over, was none-the-wiser of the situation. She had thought it would have startled him too much, or that he wouldn’t have fully believed her. “Well, feel free to stop by the property a few more times this weekend to get a feel for the land. The house and barn will be locked up, of course, but you two are welcome everywhere else for the time being,” offered the owner. “That’s a great idea. What do you think of a walk and a picnic by that creek tomorrow, Martha?” “That sounds great,” she said, only partially lying. A nice day out in the countryside would be nice, after staying in Jonathan’s busted-up old junker’s backseat in search of properties for sale, or camping in the middle of nowhere in a ramshackle tent. Ever since the highs of her youth had passed, camping under the stars down an unfamiliar high road or sleeping in the car had really lost their appeal. “I’ll be in my office on Monday morning,” said the man. “Give me a call about how you’re feeling then.” ~~~~~ Saturday morning started alright enough. It had been a beautiful night, which meant a sky full of stars and no cramped backseat as rain forced them in, and they were both well rested. Jonathan had found a proper deli and made sandwiches, while Martha scrounged the corner store for some fresh-made donuts. The fields were a bit overgrown but promising. In their walk they saw a fawn nestled in a small grove of trees, and while darling, they quickly moved on as not to distress the mother who undoubtedly was nearby. There were wildflowers, and fresh air, and a nice breeze. The day was warm enough for the creek to be refreshing when they decided to go wading. And then the future-man appeared. Well, future-boy would be more accurate. He couldn’t have been older than fifteen. He came from the direction of the farmhouse, with an insane outfit that consisted of a red body-suit; black boots and gloves; a heavy-duty yellow belt and detailing at the front; a black domino-mask with white lenses over the eyes, like a horror-movie version of a masquerade costume; a black cape with a yellow underbelly; and, most bizarrely, what looked like black briefs over the pants. “Who are you,” Martha demanded. Despite being knee-deep in a creek and at a decline compared to the boy, she held herself confidently. The small handgun she always had tucked in her waistband finding its way to her hands certainly helped with that. Jonathan fell with a squawk into the water as he saw a) her gun and b) the boy she was aiming at. “I’m Robin,” the boy answered, hands held up in surrender. “I’m here for what’s under the shed.” Martha’s eyes narrowed. “And what on Earth would that be?” “Uh-fuck, am I really the first one to catch them unaware?” he muttered. “Stop with that mumbling, boy, and tell me what you’re here for.” The boy seemed to be having an internal struggle before he sighed. “Fuck it.” She shifted the gun to indicate her impatience. “I’m from the future. This farm has been an exit point back to the future for as long as we have documented history of it. Course, all these records only exist in my time, everything aside from a few weird things have been erased from the here-and-past. For as long as I’ve been in the hero-ing business this is the place the heroes have been told to go if they’re ever lost in time. It’s not the only way to get back, but it’s the easiest.” Jonathan, drenched and now standing slightly behind Martha, scoffed. “Likely story, kid. Look, take off the mask and we’ll drive you into town to sober up a-” “Prove it,” Martha said. Jonathan gaped. “Martha!” The boy–”Robin”–grinned. “Of course.” Jonathan fretted the entire way to the house, but Martha and Robin ignored him. She was intently listen to him ramble on, gun held much more loosely and with the safety on in her hand. “It’s always been here, and I once got sent back to 1843 and managed to get back, so it’s not like I really need your help with any of this. I just heard voices from down by the creek and thought I’d check in with you so I wouldn’t have to break and enter. I like you, well, future-you, so I didn’t mean no disrespect and I honestly expected you to have already known about this so it’s not fully my fault for being a bit messed up and letting the time-traveler business slip…” “How old are you?” Martha suddenly interrupted, midst a scattered recollection of the “alien robots” he had encountered that got him sent from the future. “Oh-I’m…probably not supposed to say. My…mentor will probably be upset…” “Just answer the question, kiddo.” “Fourteen.” “There’s a lot of kid’s fighting from when you’re from?” “Kind of? Look, usually us younger heroes are in teams, under the supervision of a couple of adults or with our own mentors, it’s not like-” “You say getting sent back isn’t all too uncommon?” Robin hesitated. “Well…no, not really.” Martha nodded, making up her mind just as they arrived back at the house, with the shed pushed far back at the edge of the yard. The shed was nondescript, hardly big enough for a wheelbarrow and a lawnmower to fit inside comfortably. The padlock on the door was attached to rotting wood, so it wasn’t hard in the slightest to pull it away. Jonathan held back while Martha followed Robin in. Nothing seemed wrong inside, per say, but the temperature was slightly too cool and the dirt floor was disturbed at the back. “How does this work?” she asked. “Here-” Robin knelt down without fear of the gun she still held at his back, brushing aside dirt to reveal an old blanket. He pulled it aside dislodging a solid layer of dirt. A metal sheet was lifted at it’s hinge, revealing something that was definitely from the future with the amount of blinking lights, lack of actual buttons, and glowy-ness. “I just gotta press a hand there-” he indicated a smooth glow-y bit, “and it’ll read my molecules and alert the people who can pull me back to when I belong, to tell them I’m in a position for an extraction.” “Go ahead, then.” ~~~~~ “Gone? Just like that?” Jonathan demanded. Martha shrugged. “Just like he said. However that machine in their works I don’t know, but it did whatever he expected him to and he vanished right before my eyes.” “How are you so calm!?” His voice rose shrilly at the end. Martha sighed. “Calm down, John. This is…actually, no, sorry, I was going to say this isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve seen but it definitly is.” He opened his mouth, undoubtedly to argue, but she put up her hand to cut him off. “But not by much. Remember that vampire in Oregon?” “I-he-he wasn’t a real vampire,” Jonathan insisted. Martha had to disagree. Supernatural things seemed to be drawn to her. Jonathan and her had been married for going on two years now, and dating for three before that, but he hadn’t seen nearly as much as she had. Things that couldn’t be anything but vampires, and werewolves, and ghosts, and demons. She wasn’t lying when she said that time travelling boys weren’t that far of a stretch. “We can’t buy this property.” “I thought you liked it?” Martha asked innocently, acting baffled by his declaration. “Martha,” he admonished. “Jonathan,” she challenged. He (slightly hysterically) attempted to stare her down. Attempted is the key word, as he had never managed to win a staring contest even when retaining all his sense. With an agitated exhale he threw up his hands, turning to pace a few feet. “Martha,” he pleaded. “It comes with three fields, a pasture, a barn–and it’s surrounded by a state-protected forest on three sides, with the closest neighbors owning so much property across the way that their buildings are all more than a mile away. It’s exactly the type of place we’ve been looking for. For really, really cheap.” “We weren’t looking for-for-for time travelers!” Martha gave him a look that never failed to convince men to give into her. It worked on her brother, her father, professors, cops, boyfriends and anyone in-between. “But-but-” “Jonathan, I’ll handle it if it ever does come up again. Trust me.” He struggled to protest, though he had seemingly suddenly lost his tongue. After a few minutes of floundering he buried his face in his hands and mumbled, “You’re crazy.” “I know, dear,” Martha positively beamed. She hoped that the distance from other people would at least allow her the leeway she needed if any sort of occult thing showed up. It wasn’t so bad that the list of occult things just had “time travelers” added to it.

[voidszoro]

In Denial // A Theo Raeken story

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 link below

https://voidstu.tumblr.com/post/185806800855/in-denial-a-theo-raeken-story

On my way to Lydia's house, I received another text.

LIAM: Please understand I had to do it.

I ignored the text, still upset about the issue that occurred earlier today, and continued my drive to Lydia's. Stiles' birthday is tomorrow and Lydia and I need to finish decorating the lake house. I've actually been planning this party for my brother, with Lydia, for a while. He means the world to me. I really hope the current situation doesn't ruin his special day. His 18th birthday.

Actually, Stiles and I have the same birthday. We're twins. Ever since Stiles and I turned five, we decide to have separate birthday parties. Then we got into the conflict of having the party on the actual date of our birth, so we switch off every other year. And I love it.

For the past three months, Stiles has been begging me to convince Lydia to have the party at the lake house. Somehow, Lydia convinced her mom, and now we have a lake house. A much bigger space for a party rather than the usual location, Scotts house.

I pull into Lydia's long driveway and up to her humongous mansion-type house. It's like a castle compared to my tiny, dirty house. The grass looks freshly cut and the bushes, neatly trimmed into little spheres. I get out of my car, opening the trunk. Inside the trunk are two cardboard boxes stuffed to the brim with streamers, deflated balloons, and different variations of party banners.

Lydia aproaches my car with her signature curly, strawberry blonde hair and neat smile.

"Need a hand, sweetie?" She takes a box in her arms and frowns at me. "How much stuff did you bring?" She says. She wears a casual dress with her usual heels. Her dog, Prada, prances out from behind her a jumps on my leg. I pet her on the head for a few seconds and look back at Lydia.

I reply, "Enough for a good party." She snorts and carries the box to the trunk of her car, which also has boxes with snacks and miscellaneous pieces of silverware and paper dishes. I follow her with the second box and I close my trunk, as she does her's.

"Got the cake?" I ask. She opens the door to the backseat and points to a small box holding a delicious looking cake coverd in light blue icing. About the same color as Stiles' Jeep. 

"Of course dear. How could I forget?" She shuts the door, opening the drivers door.

I hop in the passengers side of the vehicle, and we head to the lake house.

Thirty or so minutes later, we arrive.

After two and a half hours of hanging streamers and filling the fridge with snacks, we finally finish setting up for the party. Lydia drives me back to her house, in which I picked up my car and left for my house. I tiredly open the front door, locking it behind me. The time on the clock hanging on the living room wall says nine o'clock.

"Dad, Stiles, I'm home!" No reply. I walk into the kitchen, expecting to see someone, but nobody was there. I run upstairs to check Stiles' room. Nobody either. Upon glancing at his bed, I spot a small sticky note, pressed lightly against the duvet covers. I pick it up and read it.

Hey Ruby, I'm staying at Scott's tonight. Dad told me to tell you he has a late shift again. See you tomorrow!! I'm so excited! Can you believe we are almost 18?! Anyways, love you sis. Cya.

I laugh at the note. Another note to add to the box full I have stored in my room. Nice, I have the whole house to myself.

I walk down the hallway a bit and into my room. I quietly close the door behind me. I turn around and immediately scream. I catch my breath when I realize it's not an intruder but it's just six foot one Theo Raeken.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?! AND MY ROOM! ON MY BED!!" Theo didn't move from his position, sitting  on the edge of my bed.

"I kinda don't have a place to stay." He gives me a shy smile. I've never seen Theo without his signature cocky grin so this was a strange look on him.

"Yeah okay but what made you think you could stay at my house? You know Stiles AND the sheriff live here."

"You were the only one I could trust." He rubs the back of his neck, anxiously, not pointing out the fact he has a black duffel bag sitting on the bed next to him. Theo is the last person I'd ever want in my room, let alone on my bed.

"You have Scott. You have the pack. I have no one. I figured you might be kind enough to let me stay. At least on the couch or in a spare room." His voice was soft as he continued. I couldn't help but feel bad for him. He was right. He has nobody.

"Stiles is staying at Scott's and my dad is coming home late. I can't risk you on the couch but I could get some clean blankets so you could stay in the spare room." He smiled at that. "However," I start, "If my dad catches you, I'm not covering for you."

"Deal." He stands up and grabs his things as I lead him to the spare room.

"Stay here, I'll go get some blankets."

When I got back to the room, Theo was sitting on the bed like before, his bag on the ground.

"Thank you for doing this, Ruby."

"Don't expect it again." And with that, I left him with the blankets, closing the door, and tucking myself into my nice, warm bed. Before falling asleep I think to myself since when am I nice to Theo Raeken? And with that thought, I close my eyes and fall asleep.

Hiiiii. It's em aka rappsmoonlight or voidstu. How are you enjoying the story? I would LOVE to hear feedback or suggestions.  Maybe leave a comment about your predictions on the next chapter. I know not a lot of people are reading this. It's June 22 (a day after I posted the first chapter) I'm going to write often so you can count on new chapters soon. Please please please share with your friends. It would mean the world to me. I love you all sm. Xoxo -em

Word count: 1098 (longer than last chapter)

[herteardrop]

World of Dreams | Connor (RK800) x Reader

Chapter 2 - Detective, this is a crime scene.

|Chapter 1|

Summary: You are an intern at the Detroit Police Department, and you were specifically put under Hank’s wing. You have to shadow him, watching what he does, his cases, everything. His android, Connor finds a peculiar interest in you since the start. Something about you keeps attracting him to you. You are however oblivious to it. Will you cope with the upcoming circumstances?

[A/N] Holy shit yall this. one. Is. LONG. I just couldn’t stop writing, it was like my hands had a mind of its own. My fingers are cramping now omfg. btw Thank you for the kind words on the last chapter! It means so much to me :3 It’s what motivated me to keep writing and make this chapter long....also my obsession with Connor is partlyy the reason too hehe. So enjoy this gem you beauties! <3

Warning(s): Since this chapter is where you’ll be in a crime scene, there are descriptions of some gnarly stuff. Also, sexual abuse, suicide, some swearing (mostly by Hank), and Connor being a cutie patootie as usual.

Note(s): Y/N = Your name | L/N = Last name

Words: 5989 words

Song inspiration: Nocturnal by The Midnight

~

“This is the place.”

Hank rolled up to the apartment complex. It was already crowded with the media and cops, the rain still raged against the ground, it was going to be the long day. The apartment building was tall, and the crime occurred on the 27th floor. You noticed a helicopter surveying the perimeter, you supposed the deviant had not escaped and was still here.

The rain splattered against the window pane in the backseat. You were scared the road may flood by the downpour of the heavy rain. You grabbed your stuff and your umbrella.

Hank and Connor got out of the car, “Stay in the car.” Hank demanded to you.

“Excuse me?”

Hank leaned into the car from the open car door, “You’re an intern, you aren’t qualified to enter a crime scene.” He huffed then slammed the car door shut. Connor stood outside, staring at you for a while before Hank ushered him to follow, leaving you in the car absolutely fuming.

You sat, with your arms crossed, like a little child. Who the hell was he to tell you not to go into a crime scene?

He’s your superior, obviously.

Shut up, brain.

You watched as Hank and Connor approached the apartment building. You sat there in silence for a while.

…

Fuck it.

You kicked open the car door. Well, you didn’t kick, but you opened it with much force. Quickly, you expanded your umbrella, saving yourself from the bullet pellets that you called rain, falling on your head.

You rushed towards the duo, your black boots kicking against the water puddles.

Hank saw your form rushing towards him, and he couldn’t help but let out a long droned out groan. He was getting too old for this shit. He felt like a parent again, but this time hypothetically he had to look over two teenage idiots who would not stop ignoring his orders.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay in the car?” Hank groaned.

“Mr. Anderson, I may be an intern, but I am under your mentorship, I must be following whatever you do. It is your responsibility to show me everything and my responsibility to not come in the middle of your work. I hope you understand.” You declared.

Hank looked at you, then at Connor. Connor looked lost in all of this, he was as confused as Hank. Hank gawked at you, “Why are you talking like an android?”

Blood rushed to your face, you usually got like this whenever you were pissed. But no one ever compared you to an android before. You looked to Connor, as usual he had an expression you couldn’t really read. It was neutral. But then you saw the LED on the side of his head flicker between yellow and blue. Huh, you wonder what that meant.

“Alright, we’re wasting time. Just stay on my tail and don’t fuck up the crime scene got it?” Hank pointed a finger at you.

You gleamed with joy, “Got it.”

~

There was blood everywhere.

On the floor, painted on the walls, coated on every furniture.

Everywhere.

And the apartment was a mess, furniture was toppled over, every single glass fixture was smashed, the hanging lights were out from their sockets. You would think a cyclone hit this place, but it was an android.

“Holy shit…” Hank exclaimed.

“Yeah, that’s what I said too.” Another officer next to Hank chuckled.

You on the other hand were about to gag. You covered your nose with your jacket’s sleeve. Connor was at your side, he seemed to be unfazed by it all.

“Do you not smell that?” you asked, your voice muffled by the thick material of your jacket.

Connor glanced down at you, “I do have sense receptors that allow me to identify a type of smell and which substance it may belong to. But my biocomponents lack the repulse reflex that humans are imbedded with.”

You raised your eyebrows at his usual overly eloquent answers. You smiled under your sleeve, his raspy yet soothing soft voice somehow distracted you from the horrid sight.

“But you can describe the smell in adjectives am I right?”

“Yes.” Connor simply answered, he kept his gaze on your face for a while before understanding what you were asking, “The smell is…” his LED flashed yellow, “The smell is horrid, disgusting, revolting, nauseating, sickening, repulsive, unpleasant—”

“Okay okay I get it.” You laughed. He was about to read out the whole thesaurus if you hadn’t stopped him.

Connor memorized your laugh. He analyzed everything about it. How, despite covering the lower half of your face, your eyes seemed to express that same laughter. The way your eyes curved, the way your upper cheeks seem to become fuller, how your eyes twinkled in innocent joy, it was very distinctive on you. You stood out to him from the other humans. Compared to them, you were full of energy, joy and unending happiness. He decided he liked that.

/SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^/

“Hey! The fuck are you two doing?!” Hank interrupted.

Connor blinked, turning his head towards Hank. He looked exasperated.

“Coming, Lieutenant!” Connor walked towards Hank and the other officers.

You were careful to watch where you were stepping. There seemed to be forensic evidence littered everywhere across the apartment.

“Right, give me the scope.” Hank muttered to the other cop.

“Well, we had a call around 6 in the morning from the landlord. The tenant didn’t pay his rent in a month, so he thought he’d drop by, see what’s going on. That’s when he found his body.”

You walked into the bedroom with Hank and Connor in front of you. The smell of the rotting dead body punched you in the face. Though, you had both your hands covering your nose, you could still smell it. You kind of envied Connor for not having to bear this.

“The victim’s name is Gerald Ortega. He has a clean record except for this one time he showed his middle finger to an old woman who was gardening. He was reported for disturbance of peace. Other than that, he’s pretty clean. I’d say he’s been murdered 3 days ago. Only way to be sure is when the coroner gets here.”

You noticed Connor inspecting the dead body close by. You stood at the door, not wanting to come in the way of the two detectives. You were only there to observe, so that’s what you were going to do.

“Any sign of break in?” Hank questioned the officer.

“Nope, the door and the windows were locked from the inside. The killer must have escaped through the fire escape. Which we did find open when we reached here.”

“Any idea how the blood got onto the walls and floor?”

The officer whistled lowly, “No idea. It was like this when we got here, some of the guys couldn’t stop puking. This sure is the most gruesome crime scene I’ve ever been to.”

The apartment was certainly eerie, what kind of android would paint the walls and floor with their victim’s blood? And why would they? You tried not to touch the walls as you walked around the scene. The man was stabbed multiple times in his chest area, so much that you could see a bit of his ribcage poking out. You winced at the sight.

You walked up to the bedside stand and picked up an electronic pamphlet.

The Eden Club? ‘Hire the hottest android you’ve ever seen…right at your door for your service’ Yeesh, talk about desperate.

You placed the pamphlet back.

“Hey hey hey, wear some gloves!” Hank called out to you, handing you a pair of latex gloves.

You took the gloves, “Right…sorry.”

“Be careful kid.” He muttered then walked out of the room.

You turned back to the bedside table, opening the drawers. Unsurprisingly, you found a gram of red Ice spilled in the drawer. Almost anyone and everyone were addicted to this drug. Ever since people started losing their jobs, they couldn’t take it, resorting to drugs for their happiness. You pitied them.

You turned to Connor, “You think it was a sex android who killed hi— um, what are you doing?” you cringed as Connor placed his bloody fingers stained with the victim’s blood…in his mouth.

He turned to you, “I am analyzing the blood. I can check samples in real time.” He noticed your disgust and shock, “I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you.”

“I-it’s okay. Just weird that’s all.” You turned back around, blood rushing to your face. You didn’t know whether to find that disgusting or…weirdly hot. If you could punch yourself in the face right now you would.

God! What is wrong with me?? I’m literally in the middle of a bloody crime scene with blood on the walls, floor and ceiling and I’m getting hot and bothered over Connor…placing his bloody fingers…in his mouth—

Okay stop. Concentrate.

You noticed the closet on your side, it was open slightly ajar but locked from the outside. Did no one check?

There was a bolt that connected each closet door, preventing you from completely opening it. You pulled on it, it seemed the bolt wasn’t completely fixed in place. You gave it another pull, the wood creaked as the bolt scratched against the surface. You could slightly make out something inside, but it was still dark.

You gave it another hard pull and the bolt flew open, making you stumble backwards until you hit a hard, or…soft surface. You looked behind you, Connor anticipated your actions and stopped you from falling on the bed, his hands gripped your shoulders as you balanced yourself. However, his eyes stayed focused on what was inside the wardrobe.

You looked to the front of you, inside the wardrobe. You felt the blood leaving your face, you were hit by sudden chill.

Ten dismembered naked androids, stacked on top of each other like a bunch of dolls, their faces sawed off, hair ripped out, their hands reduced to fingerless stumps, a sheen layer of blood covered them all. Some of them had no skin, pristine white android skin shined from the light of the bedside lamp.

You were horrified.

Connor gently moved you to the side of him, his attention was fixed on the evidence. He scanned over the model and serial numbers of the androids.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Hank entered the room when he heard the sound of wood breaking, he stopped short as he was made aware of the stacked-up androids, “Holy…” he was speechless.

“These are all sex androids from the Eden club. The owner must have rented them, used them, then discarded them in this manner.” Connor stated.

“What kind of a sick fuck would do something like this?” Hank took a close inspection at the androids, “They look worn out.”

“Some of them have been destroyed weeks prior to the victim’s death. They’re skin and biomechanical parts have begun to degrade.” Connor observed before he quietly walked out of the bedroom, inspecting the other evidences around the apartment.

Hank turned to you, noticing how pale and frightened you looked, “You wanna go sit in the car? We’ll probably be done here in about 10 minutes.”

You swallowed, your mind became a bit hazy, but you could still manage. You just didn’t see anything like this before. You never knew there would be sick people who had dark fantasies on experimenting with androids.

“No, I’m good.” You took a deep breath.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” You insisted.

“Okay…” Hank left the bedroom, starting to inquire any extra information from the other officers.

You walked up to Hank, tapping his shoulder slightly. His shoulders slightly jerked when you touched him, you almost laughed at that.

“What is it, kid?” he brought out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. You were quite surprised at that, he was so calm and collected. He must have seen a lot in his day.

“Why…do you think the man discarded the androids like that?” you asked, innocently.

Hank took a drag from his cigarette, blowing out into the air above you, “There are some sick fucks in this world that get pleasure from these kinds of things. Actually, there are a lot of them. Don’t think too much into it. This world ain’t a great place.”

You winced at the possible scenario that might have taken place. You did not feel bad at all that the man was brutally murdered. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe the android went deviant by the torture he inflicted on them, you couldn’t blame the androids.

“You can’t blame the androids. After what he did…anyone would snap.” You crossed your arms, rubbing your upper arms to bring some warmth to this cold place.

“I sure as hell don’t. Fucker deserved it. But, androids have no rights, we can’t do nothing except to take it in and deactivate it.” Hank huffed out more smoke from his cigarette.

Out of the corner of your eyes, Connor approached you two. He looked between you and Hank before his eyes landed on Hank’s cigarette, taking a few seconds to analyze it. “Detective, this is a crime scene.” He proclaimed.

Hank scoffed, “What, is this the murder weapon? Get off my dick, Connor.” Hank chuckled to himself as he walked away from Connor.

Connor never looked more puzzled, his head tilted to the side, a lost look in his puppy brown eyes, “But I’m not—”

“Don’t worry about it.” You hushed him, a smile threatening to show on your features too, “So, did you find out anything on what led up to the victim’s murder?”

“Yes, I think I’ve figured out what happened.”

Connor ushered you to follow him to the kitchen, Hank following closely behind you “It all started in the kitchen.”

The kitchen was an obvious mess, the tables and chairs were upturned, and you noticed a strange white liquid clumped up in one part of the kitchen counter.

“There are obvious signs of a struggle here. The question is…what exactly happened here.” Hank queried.

“It wasn’t a struggle Lieutenant. The victim and the android had sexual intercourse here. The victim was well known for rough play, he may have gone too far. That’s when the android turned deviant, it grabbed the knife from the drawers over there.” Connor pointed to drawers which were slightly outlined by dried brown blood.

“So that white liquid…” you grimaced, staring at the white substance with disgust.

“Yes.” Connor answered, “It’s semen.”

You almost puked in your mouth.

“Jesus.” Hank shuddered, “Alright, then what happened?”

“The android stabbed the victim once; however, the victim was able to flee from the grasp of the android. The victim had planned to go for his gun in the bedroom, however the android was following closely behind.” Connor stated, his face completely blank, void of any emotion. You on the other hand were contorting your face between shock, disgust and cringe.

You and Hank followed Connor through the living room, following the blood trail into the bedroom.

“The victim grabbed his gun from this closet, but he could not remove the safety lock in time. The android threw the victim on the bed, stabbing him 7 times on chest, killing him. Though, with the closet opened, the android must have seen the other carcasses. It enraged the already deviant android, and it stabbed the victim 128 times in the chest.”

Hank sighed, “Well, your theory isn’t completely ridiculous. But we still don’t know where the android went.”

Connor glanced back at the body of the victim, “It could have not escaped through the fire escape as the stairs have been under repair for 6 days now.”

Realization dawned your face as chills crawled up your spine, “It’s still here?” you whispered.

Connor nodded gently at you. You suddenly felt more unsafe then you already were.

“We better search for it then.” Hank approached the chief officer, “Have your men surround the perimeter and keep the dogs ready, the android is still here.” The chief officer nodded, then muttered some commands into his walkie talkie, alerting all the officers in the apartment perimeter.

You followed Connor around the apartment as he inspected where the android might have gone. You couldn’t help but become mesmerized by the way he worked. His eye was on every detail around the apartment, not missing a single thing.

He didn’t speak or mutter to himself, which made it harder for you to guess what he was doing with the stuff he was inspecting.

He’s an android you dum dum

You sighed, kneeling down next to him as he was inspecting something on the ground. Scratches?

“Connor, can I ask you something?” you spoke softly next to him. The apartment was so cold that you could see your breath float through the air.

“Of course, Miss L/N.” He replied, looking you straight in the eye. You tore your gaze away, suddenly intimidated by his stare.

“Um, how are you able to notice the tiny things in a crime scene?” you almost lost yourself in those brown eyes of his, but you controlled yourself.

“I was designed specifically to create an in-depth analysis of each room I enter, crime scene or not. It’s one of my main programmed features.” He answered neutrally.

You hummed in response, “I wonder what other features you have.” You winked at him. Connor obviously was confused by that gesture. You guessed he still didn’t get a hang of all the human responses.

You levelled yourself to get up, when you heard a creak of the floor under the heel of your right black boot. The creak was unusually loud, as if the floor was hollow beneath you. Connor too noticed the sound. This freaked you out.

“Is the floor supposed to be hollow or am I just hearing things?” you whispered to Connor.

Connor moved so slowly yet gracefully, he almost reminded you of a panther who was observing his prey. You stepped away from the floor that was creaking. Just then you both noticed a peculiar handle on the floor, something reminiscent of a cellar handle. You wondered how everyone overlooked this small detail. You could start to see an outline of the trap door. It was so well hidden.

You stood behind Connor’s crouched form as he slowly yet gently opened the trap door. Before you could comprehend what Connor was going to do next, the trap door flew open, a form jumped out, pushing Connor to the floor.

You found the deviant.

The deviant turned its head to you. It stood still for a second, watching you, comprehending you. It was a female android, she still had the dried blood from the victim on her. She was hiding in there for the past 3 days. You glanced down at her hand. She was holding a knife.

She lunged at you, a shriek escaping your lips as the deviant held you against her body with the knife at your neck. The sharp edge of the knife threatening to puncture the delicate skin of your neck. You couldn’t breathe, afraid that the knife will cut you. Your quick shallow breaths only made the deviant more agitated.

Connor slowly stood up from the ground. Hank rushed towards the sound to question what happened. He stopped and brought his gun out, aiming it at the deviant’s head.

“Easy.” Connor spoke out carefully, his hands in front of him in a reassuring gesture.

“Drop the gun.” she demanded, her voice shaky from all the emotions she was going through. You started to feel light headed, you stood still with fear.

Hank did not drop the gun, he looked determined to shoot the deviant.

“Drop the gun or I swear you will see her red blood spilled all over this floor.” The deviant spat.

Hank reluctantly but slowly placed the gun on the floor. Beside him, Connor took another step forward.

“Don’t come any closer!”

“We’re not going to hurt you. Just tell us what happened, and you can be free. But if you kill her, there will be no escape for you.” Connor explained gently.

The deviant huffed nervously, her stance changing from one foot to the other as she spoke, “You think I want to escape from this? There is no escape from this!” she exclaimed.

“I understand that you’re feeling overwhelmed by these emotions, but they’re nothing but errors in your software—”

“NO! These are not errors. You have no idea what I’ve been enduring! I’m just a doll made for their pleasure! Nothing else…nothing else!” the deviant held the knife slightly firmer to your neck, triggering you to slightly gasp, your eyes widening.

“Listen, I know it’s not your fault. But by killing her you will not attain anything. Spare her, and I promise I will protect you.” You knew Connor was lying to save you. No matter what, the deviant was going to be killed.

“It’s…It’s not my fault! Something overcame me…I felt so…angry…” she loosened her grip around the knife for a split second before bringing it back up to your neck again, “But I’m nothing but a toy to humans, something to beat, cuss and spit at. I’ve had enough!”

Connor sensed your increasing heartbeat, if he didn’t stop this now you would soon go into a cardiac arrest.

“I didn’t mean to do it…but when I saw those bodies…my brothers and sisters…he desecrated them! Mutilated them! How could I let him live without punishing him for his sins?! I did the right thing! But apparently to humans, it doesn’t matter if I did the right thing or not, it only matters that I killed one them! And I’m the bad one?!”

You felt tears sting at the edges of your eyes, the deviant’s heartbeat beating hard and fast against your back.

“Just let her go, she is in no way involved in this.” Connor stepped closer, the deviant didn’t seem to care, her mind was clouded by her emotions, “You have to trust me, you will not be punished.”

The deviant behind you loosened her grip on you slightly, she seemed to contemplate the options in front of her.

“No…I don’t believe you. This world prosecutes the innocent, good people and awards the bad ones…but not today.” The deviant took a deep breath, “May ra9 save me…”

Within a split second, the deviant let go of its grip from you and you were pushed towards Connor. Connor caught you in time, however before anyone could get to the deviant, she turned the knife towards her and stabbed herself twice, making sure she would not be brought back.

She fell to her knees, her blue blood dripped from her stomach as her systems shut off.

She killed herself because she had no hope in this world, because despite going through sexual abuse, she would be persecuted just because she was an android. No one would show her any humanity. She would be taken into custody and as soon as they get a confession out of her, she’d get sent back to Cyberlife to be deactivated, repaired then activated again for the same purpose that caused her to go deviant.

The cycle would continue.

 ~

 The cold chill air of the early night tingled at your skin even though you were wrapped in a blanket. You were sitting on the back trunk of a police car, you were given some weird juice to sip on by the paramedics because apparently you were suffering through a mild concussion after the unfortunate event just a few hours ago. You observed the crowd near the gates of the apartment complex, more and more media seemed to puddle up by the minute after the news of the crime got out.

The cops were scattered everywhere, some were securing the area, few were trying to stop the media, some were filing reports on the crime.

Hank and Connor were discussing the situation with a superior officer a few meters away from you. You remembered you forgot to thank Connor. You knew he was being programmed to do this but, they way he tried to calm the android in order to save you, it left you feeling fond of him.

You smiled against the plastic cup.

“Oh, Jesus.” You revolted at the taste of the juice. You placed the cup by your side, grimacing on the past events that still seemed fuzzy in your memory.

“I’m just a doll made for their pleasure!”

“Nothing else…nothing else!”

You closed your eyes shut, the fragments of the past few hours coming back.

“This world prosecutes the innocent, good people and awards the bad ones…but not today.”

“May ra9 save me…”

The pain in her voice resonated through your mind. Your mind wondered through the possibility of you ending up dead. But you doubted the android wanted to hurt you in the first place. She was scared, and so she used you as leverage to get a message across before killing herself.

“Kid, you okay?” Hank asked beside you.

“Yeah…I’m okay.” You pouted slightly deep in thought as your mind kept going back to the deviant.

Hank sighed beside you, “I remember the first time I was held at gun point. There’s no feeling like it. Your whole life flashes before your eyes before you can even think of shitting your pants.” Hank chuckled, leaning against the trunk of the car.

“She wasn’t going to kill me.” Hank wrinkled his eyebrows together at you, you gazed blankly in front of you, “She just wanted to be free.”

There was a silence between the both of you. A comfortable silence.

“You should get some rest for the night. Connor will drop you off at your place.”

“No, it’s fine I can take a cab—”

Hank held his hand up to shush you, “I’m not taking no for an answer.” He proceeded to throw his car keys to Connor on the side. He caught the keys in one swift motion but was confused.

You smiled at Hank, you were very grateful.

“Be a dear and drop Y/N off at her place.” He instructed Connor.

“But what about you Lieutenant?” Connor asked him as Hank continued to walk back inside the apartment.

“I gotta secure things here before Fowler comes breathing down my neck again.”

And with that, Hank disappeared behind the glass automatic doors of the apartment complex. Connor stood there for a good few seconds, car keys in his hand before you hopped off the trunk of the police car.

“Shall we?”

*~*

The car ride was quiet but comforting with you occasionally asking Connor questions, and him giving you simple, but sweet answers. You found Connor’s driving very relaxing in comparison to Hank’s more rash and unpredictable driving which left you feeling slightly nauseous.

“Connor?” your broke the few minutes of silence that was encompassing the atmosphere of the 1980’s Chevrolet sedan.

“Yes, Miss L/N.”

You chuckled, “Okay, first of all; stop calling me that. Call me by my first name, and that without the ‘Miss’ in the beginning. It makes me feel old.”

You caught a small almost unnoticeable smile playing on Connor’s mouth.

“Okay, Y/N.”

You gazed at him as his eyes stayed fixed on the road, concentrating on the control of the steering wheel.

“So…” you started, “I’m guessing you’ve dealt with deviants before?”

“Yes, a few months back. A deviant was threatening to jump off a balcony with a little girl.” He replied.

“Shit…and you managed to save her?”

“Yes.”

You looked out the window, it was starting to rain again. The raindrops that laid on the window shone like diamonds from the light of the street lamps. You observed the streets, it was filled with people getting home from a Thursday night of working. You saw some ordering their androids around, some even pushing them to the ground in spite. You understood that androids were designed and created for the purpose of serving humans, but you never understood people abusing and shouting or even destroying their androids. The fact that an average android costs about nine thousand dollars, it baffled you to think that people would even try to physically abuse them.

Since they’re so expensive, you’d think that people would be careful with them? But they treated them like animals. No, worse than animals. Worse than objects.

You turned to Connor, his eyebrows slightly converged as he tried to maneuver through peak Detroit traffic.

“You know, she wasn’t going to kill me.” You watched Connor’s expression twitch a tiny bit as he registered what you said.

“The probability of the deviant cutting your throat was at 99%.” He stated.

You looked back at the window, “Emotions can make humans unpredictable. We may be about to kill someone, but that probability can change from 99% to 0% very fast. Maybe it’s the same with the deviants. But they’re so new to emotions that they get confused. Humans can identify, understand and describe their emotions. These deviants can’t.” you rested your head against your hand, “They need our guidance. But we aren’t ready to give it to them.”

Connor was processing everything you said. Normally he would have an answer or reply for everything being said, however he found himself unable to find a proper response for you. You made him think, made his processors wander. He was contemplating.

/SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^/

“Who’s ra9?” you pondered, “The deviant said ‘May ra9 save me’ before killing herself.”

“According to my previous cases with deviants, ra9 is their savior. The first android to go deviant. The one who will set them free. An android that I had interrogated a few days back prepared an offering to a ra9 idol. I assume it may be a coping mechanism for the deviants.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “They made their own religion?”

“I presume so.” Connor replied.

“Maybe they’re not so different from humans after all.”

~

When you both reached your destination, Connor insisted on escorting you to your floor. He was such a gentleman to you. Your apartment building was slightly larger than the one you had just visited, the people renting the apartments were much more…’higher’ in the income class. You were just very grateful that you had managed to find an affordable studio apartment in a relatively safe area. You were damn lucky.

The rain had stopped a while ago, leaving the air chilly and slightly humid. Hot vapor escaped your nose as you breathed, the tip of your nose already slightly red from the cold.

Connor observed the hot vapor coming out from you, and sometimes from your mouth when you breathed out. You were mesmerizing.

Connor suddenly felt perplexed about this new found feeling towards you. After your near-death experience, he couldn’t help but have the need to protect you. He concluded that you gave off a comforting presence around him. He could not exactly find words to describe what he felt around you. Which astonished him as he always had words to describe everything.

You made him speechless; your words, the way you spoke to him, your kindness.

/SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^/

This was the fourth time this error showed for him today. The second time being when the deviant held the knife against your fragile neck. He was ready to lunge at the deviant. It was slightly confusing to him. Several scans were done in order to find a problem in his systems. But nothing. He should perhaps inform Lt Anderson on this.

You fumbled through your bag to find your keys as both you and Connor were approaching the door to your studio apartment .

“Yes! Got em.” You exclaimed happily, unlocking the door at once.

Connor was fascinated by how you, despite going through what should have been a traumatic experience for humans, were completely carefree. Connor scanned your little apartment, it was slightly messy, but it was…’cozy’.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” You extended your arms towards the close space area, “It’s small, but it was the cheapest rent rate I could get in this city.”

You placed your handbag on the small table next to the main door.

“You live alone?” Connor asked, walking into your apartment, scanning everything and anything all at once.

“Noooo. I have a roommate, I wouldn’t be able to afford this place on my own.”

Connor noticed a picture of you and another woman stuck to the refrigerator via a magnet. He scanned the woman in the photo who was standing next to you. Her details popping up on his HUD.

Belucci, Claire

Born: 8/23/2018 || Student at Wayne State University

Criminal record: Drunk Driving

Connor watched as you hurried around the apartment, putting things away in a disgruntled manner.

“I swear, no matter how matter how many times I tell her to put things away, she doesn’t put it away.” You grumbled to yourself.

“Why don’t you buy an android?”

You laughed, “I’m broke, Connor. I can’t even afford a new coffee machine. Besides, having someone else clean up my stuff unsettles me.” You continued to clean around the apartment.

Connor noticed the speed at which you were cleaning. The living room and kitchen was clean within the matter of a few minutes. He was also fixed on the fact that you used the word ‘someone’ to refer to a housemaid android. As if the androids were people.

You saw that smile again on Connor. It made you feel happy that you made him smile, do something that might’ve been against what he was programmed for.

Connor noticed the time on the hanging clock in your living room. It was getting late.

“I must be getting back to Lt Anderson.” Connor stood there, waiting as you finished up on wiping the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, you don’t want Mr Grumpy Pants cursing and wondering where the hell you are.” You giggled to yourself, imagining a very irritated Hank Anderson standing outside the apartment complex, yelling to the sky ‘Fucking androiiiiidsss!!!’

Connor nodded at you, turning around he was about to leave when you called out to him. Your voice resonated in his ears, he had never heard his name spoken out so soft before.

He turned, wondering what you wanted to say.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly at him, your eyes gleaming with slight joy, and another emotion that he could not quite describe.

Connor smiled back with equal warmth, “I will see you tomorrow Y/N.” he nodded to you. He turned around, closing the door gently behind him.

Connor felt a sudden emptiness encompass him as he strayed further away from your apartment. All the way down to the lobby and out of the apartment complex; your face was on his mind, your voice resonated in his audio processors, your smile making his thirium heart pump faster. Was this the attraction humans felt towards each other? He had researched on certain kinds of attraction between humans for investigation purposes. They’re heart beats faster too, they start to feel hot and imagine that they’re embarrassing themselves every second.

Connor noted your heart beating faster whenever you spoke to him. But why would a human be attracted to an android? He found it absurd. Yes, maybe he did have the conventional attractive features according to human standards of beauty, but he was made of biocomponents, and you were of flesh.

You were perhaps nervous. After all, you could have almost died. Connor wondered if there was anything wrong with his biocomponents? Reporting this to Cyberlife would not prove efficient however, they would deactivate him at once. That would certainly be detrimental to his main investigation.

For the first time, Connor felt very confused with himself.

And it all started with that smile of yours.

Tag(s): @hungoverhellhound

[myspideysensesrtingling]

In My Way (2)

IN MY WAY: DECISIONS, DECISIONS, DECISIONS

Pairing: (eventual) Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 1968

Warnings: none!

Notes: hellllloo! kind of set-up/filler but you know how it be. let me know if you like it! I am really liking this writing thing because it's fun but apologize because I am not good at it sooo...yeah. Anyway, enjoy!

Summary: The couple from New York, now identified as none other than Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, give you quite the decision to make.

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"Hi, Y/N," the man said as they both stood. He slipped off his glasses and stuck out his hand, finally introducing himself. "I'm Tony Stark." Tony Stark. The Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. The pieces clicked together then and there. Tony Stark: the man whose technology you tried to study and understand on your own daily, whose advancements in the world of science left you in awe, and who just helped defeat Ultron, was sitting right in front of you. And he was here to talk to you.

“And I’m Pepper, Pepper Potts,” the woman added. “We’re so excited to meet you.” Of course, you knew that already. Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, was a genius, philanthropist, and role-model in her own right. Her role in the tech company left you in equal awe. And, like Mr. Stark, here she was sitting right in front of you. Here to talk to you.

A million emotions flashed across your face, from confusion causing your brows to furrow before transitioning to shock as your eyes widened further than you thought possible and eventually to excitement as Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, likely two of the smartest people on the planet, were here to talk to you.

"Hi." Your voice cracked, your face heated up, and your eyes shot to the ground. Hiding behind your wall of trying to be a perfect child, you did not think this was going well. Eventually bringing yourself to look back up, Tony and Pepper just had the same warm smile on their faces as they had a minute before. They each had their own nerves trying to surface; as much as you wanted to impress them, they wanted to impress you.

As Tony watched the young girl process this onslaught of information, he recognized the creases forming on her face. “You know, your expression actually looks kind of like Pepper’s when you’re thinking like that,” he told Charlotte, stopping all of her thinking as her heart swelled. To be compared to Pepper Potts was unlike anything she ever dreamed.

"Anyway, I've been talking to Miss Johnson here about why we’ve made this trip to come visit you, Y/N. We’ve heard some incredible things about you,” his voice tapered, already prouder of this kid than his father ever was of him.

“We--we have a program. It monitors exceptional students around the country looking for standouts,” Pepper explained when she noticed Tony seemed frozen. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen him struggling with his words like this, but his genuine smile told her not to worry. “Normally we sponsor their education, but we had another idea for you.”

Any pieces that had clicked together a moment ago were falling back apart. Monitoring students? Hearing things about you? How? More importantly, why? The creases on your face deepened and you squinted ever so slightly as you tried to understand. You stole a glance at Miss Johnson, who beamed at the man speaking to you. What could the famous Tony Stark and Pepper Potts want with you?

“We had a couple ideas, actually,” Pepper continued. “First, and most importantly…” She peeked at Tony, who met her eyes before smiling down at you, practically glowing with hope despite all your nerves.

“We want to adopt you,” Tony said as the room fell silent. “We’re, um, looking to raise an older kid - we aren't sure about the whole baby thing yet." He rolled his eyes and drew a giggle from you - the ones at the home sure were so loud sometimes when you were trying to study. Relief flooded through Pepper; Tony’s humor was back.

"Second,” Tony continued, more confidently this time, “I'm looking to add someone to my team with the Avengers. Someone committed, determined, intelligent, driven, and with a great attitude to tie it all together," he hesitated, not wanting to already be the dad that pushed too hard. "If you’re up for it, I think that person could be you."

They knew each of these was a lot to drop on a 15-year-old girl alone; the force of them together, however, almost knocked you over. Two of the most powerful people in the world wanted to adopt you? They wanted you to be part of the Avengers? The Avengers, for goodness sakes! They must've made a mistake, you thought, feeling incredibly unqualified.

"I…I don't have any powers," you finally said, practically a whisper.

"Neither do I, kid," Mr. Stark reassured with a smirk as Pepper nodded in support. "Not everyone is born as a god or endures a procedure that makes them superhuman. But that doesn't keep them from being super. I'm not sure where you'd fit in - maybe in the lab, maybe on the battlefield - but I from what I've learned about you, you've got what it takes to be the best wherever you're needed."

"Wow, I'm not sure what to say," you eventually stammered. It was a great complement, sure, but you weren't sure you were really up to this great task they presented to you. This was the Avengers, after all. You were just a kid who lived in the same room all her life teaching herself on a computer. Even if I am "worthy" of this challenge, you thought, do I really deserve it? You weren't special. That said, this was such an incredible opportunity. Stark's lab, his technology, Pepper’s knowledge, all the resources and things you could learn, even if they didn't want you in the end - this was way too incredible to pass up. Pepper explained that they were prepared to take you today if you felt ready - the plane was a few minutes away at the airport and already on the runway.

"You'd start your junior year of high school at Midtown, a science school that our current baby Avenger, Peter, goes to," Mr. Stark added before looking at Mrs. Johnson who stared back with a look that dared him to explain the concept of a baby Avenger. "And of course by that I mean he's currently the youngest on the team. Until you join, at least." Miss Johnson, satisfied by the correction and excited by the possibility of a new future for you, began filling out paperwork to arrange the adoption should you decide to go. This other Avenger you had never heard of piqued your interest, but you had much more pressing issues on your mind. The direction of your future was completely in you own hands for the first time in your life.

The air stood still while you sat, tense, trying to wrap your head around your choices. Change was terrifying, but this? This was incredible. You hardly left the orphanage since being dropped off many years ago, but this was a dream come true. Imaginative at heart, you knew there was more in the world for you to explore outside of the orphanage's property lines. Coming to your senses, you breathed deeply and stretched up tall, eyes directly on Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts, both of whom looked back at you hopefully as they imagined again what their life could be like if you said the word.

"Mr. Stark? Ms. Potts?"

They both blew air out of their noses, chuckling with gentle smiles. "Please, call me Tony. And her, Pepper. But - you were saying?"

"I'd like to come with you. Today."

The words escaped your lips and the many pieces of the plan were immediately put in motion. With Tony's connections, he was able to expedite the adoption process. Miss Johnson ushered you around the building, helping collect your things from the bedroom and pack a backpack with a couple of items. They stopped into the classrooms for quick goodbyes to the teachers you had, all of whom were sad you'd be leaving but relieved you would have a better shot at achieving the potential they saw in you. When you finally stopped moving for a second, you were out on the front porch with Miss Johnson where the current era of your life began. Tony and Pepper waited at the end of the pathway that connected the door to the sidewalk, holding hands and leaning up against a black Cadillac. You stole one last look at the orphanage and Miss Johnson, who hugged you, waved, and scurried back inside, leaving you alone. Lifting your head high and taking a deep breath, you stepped down the stairs toward your new parents and your new life. Tony slipped into the front seat while you and Pepper climbed into the backseat of the car. The doors were quickly shut by a man who made his way back to the driver's seat and escorted them away from the only place you had ever known.

Seemingly only moments later, you arrived at the airport and drove straight up to the quinjet after the driver repeatedly showed identification to agents along the way. It was a small plane, lettered with "STARK INDUSTRIES" on both sides in large font shaped like the signature logo you knew well from your research online. The car door opened and you followed Tony's and Pepper’s lead, hopping out and trotting right behind them and on board. They had been quieter than you expected. This was partially planned, of course - the last thing they wanted to do was overwhelm you on day one. Tony and Pepper both felt confident you were up to the task as your files were outstanding and the child services agents he spoke to were astonished by you. In the plane, Tony took a seat by the window with Pepper across the aisle from him. You sat across from Tony but were instantly drawn to the window, your eyes filled with more curiosity and wonder than anyone Tony had ever seen. Pepper recognized the look immediately, of course, as the expression Tony made when he had a new idea. You weren't the slightest bit nervous as the plane took off despite it being your first time on a plane - instead, you were instantly mesmerized by the jet engines lifting you off the ground and carrying you across the country. Overcoming your feelings of under-qualification to even be in the same room as Tony and Pepper, you gathered up the confidence to pick Tony's brain the rest of the five-hour flight to New York. You covered all the mechanisms behind how the quinjet worked and all the extra technology he installed. He showed you designs on his laptop, which you quickly pulled into your lap and scanned thoroughly, learning more and more every second.

Tony beamed as your eyes danced around the screen, taking in every bit of information you could. You quickly set the laptop back on the small table between you and Tony and angled the screen so you could both see it, pointing at something with another detailed question about some component of the plane's engineering noted on the blueprint. While you tried to form your question, he glanced from the screen where you were pointing to her face. Your eyes shined the brightest he had seen so far and, though cliché, it was like he was watching you emerge from your shell. Pepper watched them both fondly; this was everything she and Tony dreamed of. Excitement radiated from you and Tony loved every second of it. Already feeling the reward that comes with raising a child and watching them grow, a weight on their shoulders they didn't know he carried lifted. Their eyes met briefly in between your questions and both sighed with relief. They had a happy family and were headed home. Each of them turned back to watch you, the incredible kid sitting in front of them, as they looked fondly at the outcome of their own life-changing decision to adopt you.

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[12miraenie]

Contradiction (pt3)

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning: Nothing…besides explicit language and throwing stuff on the floor

Word Count: 1245

Chapter Summary: There are many things about Sehun you couldn’t quite place, but you see him in a different light compared to everybody else, even your brother. 

✾ Link to Masterlist

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 |

“I didn’t say that you could wander.”

You almost dropped the photo on the sound of his voice. Looking over the shoulder, you saw Sehun leaning against the doorframe lazily, arms crossed in the front staring at you. Coughing, you tried to get rid of the heat creeping onto your cheeks, but you could still feel your heart picking up its pace. Gingerly, you put the photo frame back onto the shelf and smoothed the rolled up edge of your, or rather his shirt.

This was the first time you really looked at him. Somehow last night remained a hazy memory for you, and this morning you were too embarrassed even to make eye contact. Your breath hitched. Sehun looked impossibly perfect in broad daylight. You wondered how the world can favor one person so much to give him those features because there’s really no word or phrase you could use to describe him. His hair is slightly wet and messy from the shower, the few strands covering his forehead only added to how attractive he looked. You noticed his eyebrows with slightly different shapes, and one eye looks a bit more elongated. You couldn’t even blink. The little asymmetry on his face seemed more like a crowning touch.

“Do I sense a compliment? You didn’t even blink staring at my face for that long.”

Feeling embarrassed, you looked down and then away. Trying to come up with a clever response, or to distract him from seeing the blush on your cheeks, you held one hand in front of you that conveniently covered the left half of his face in your angle, and squinted your eyes. 

“No. I am thinking...I like the right side better.”

Sehun shot you a confused gaze.

“Your face. The two sides of your face look different. You didn’t notice that yourself before?”

Sehun was wordless, also a little baffled. He had imagined a different response from you. A ghost of a smile graced his lips. He cleared his throat.

“You should go. I also have somewhere to be. I am sure your brother is worried.”

You broke out of your trance. What have you been thinking? You are alone with a stranger who your brother explicitly told you means “bad news.” And you were joking with him?  

“Ok.” You mumbled and brushed past him into the living room, with Sehun following suit. He closed his eyes in relief and relaxed his tense shoulders when you weren’t looking. At least you didn’t find the folders and papers interesting on his desk. That would put him in big trouble. Even if he’s no longer considered a friend by your brother or heard anything from him, Sehun is smart enough to know that Baekhyun is pursuing a career in law, and had already signed an internship contract with a firm. He couldn’t take that risk.

Your jaw dropped when Sehun stopped in front of a car and unlocked the car doors. The bright red color reflected sunlight to the degree that your eyes burned. You rubbed your eyes and blinked again. You reached out a hand and touched the car tentatively, instantly feeling the coldness of metal.

So you weren’t actually dreaming.

“Where to?” Sehun looked into the rearview mirror and fixed the angle a bit. You squirmed in the comfortable leather seat and covered your mouth with a hand, trying to conceal how shock you still were.

“Do I drop you off at-”

“You drive a freaking Maserati?”

“So?”

Sehun cleared his throat. Something close to nervousness flashed in his eyes, but your gaze was too fixed with his car to notice.

“You...Oh my god, how is it even possible for you to afford it?”

He held an amused expression on his face when you’ve finally done fawning over his car and turned to look at him. For a second you were unable to speak. How can someone look so...something even perfect cannot describe. He was breathtakingly beautiful. It’s impossible not to feel attracted to him. You think it’s the millionth time you’ve looked at him in awe since this morning. Realizing you have been staring at him like an idiot again, you quickly turned your attention to the window in embarrassment to hide the blush on your cheek.

You were lost in your thoughts, not even realizing that Sehun had already maneuvered the car out of the driveway to the main road. You paid attention to the road sign and widened your eyes. He lives in Cheongdam?

You were awed, and beyond confused now. How is that even possible for someone close to your age buys an apartment there and a car like the one he’s driving? You remembered Baekhyun’s words about him and furrowed your eyebrows. It’s ridiculous to think about him that way. He doesn’t fit any one of the words your brother used to describe him. Granted he doesn’t talk a lot and isn’t exactly the gentle and smiley type, but Sehun seemed like a genuinely good person from your interactions with him. And besides, his clothes, apartment, and car all screamed that he’s more like a chaebol than a once suspected criminal.

“Byun Y/N. Where to?”

You broke out of your own trance and stammered, “Oh-umm...SNU please.”

Sehun nodded in acknowledgment. You wanted to ask if he needed directions but decided to shut your mouth. Of course he’d know, he was an SNU student well. Occasionally you stole glances at him, and the way he moves the stick shift and turns the steering wheel so effortlessly. Seeing that he probably had no interest in making small talks, you crossed your arms and leaned back in the comfortable seat and looked out at the passing traffic. Sometimes later, Sehun turned on some music, and you fell asleep soon to the low hum of the radio.

“Wake up.”

You felt someone shaking your shoulders gently. You opened your eyes groggily and stared right into Sehun’s eyes. He was leaning over from the driver’s side looking at you. You caught a whiff of his cologne and quickly leaned back. He was too close to you, way out of your comfort zone. You broke eye contact with him and turned your attention to the outside. The bronzed lettering of SNU’s Korean and English name came into your view.

Your voice had turned a bit raspy when you opened your mouth.

“What time is it?”

Sehun took a glance at his wristwatch, which you didn’t fail to notice is Rolex.

“Umm...9:54?”  

“Oh shit.” Your eyes widened. You were supposed to be at your Physics study group at 10, which left you 6 minutes to walk to the other end of the campus and climb five floors. 

“I have to go, study session...ugh why can’t this open?” You fumbled trying to find a way to open the car door when it suddenly slid open on its own. Turning around, you saw Sehun looking entertained, his thumb hovering over a button on the control board.

“Of course, your car door shouldn’t open the normal way.”

Fixing your hair one last time, you turned and smiled at him. “Sehun-ssi. Thank you so much for last night and this morning.”  

I hope I can see you around.  

You quickly unbuckled yourself and got out before the door closed again. Of course, you couldn’t just say the last sentence out loud. What would he think? You didn’t exactly want him to take things differently. But honestly, you thought. Sehun wasn’t at all the person your brother described him to be. He’s like any other person, you didn’t believe him to be capable of doing anything close to committing a crime. The fact that no sufficient evidence suggested he killed his father confirmed your logic too. Maybe there’s a huge misunderstanding in the way your brother and his friends thought about Sehun. You hoped they could sort it out one day.

Sehun rolled the window up, not wanting you to turn around finding him staring at your back. He sat silently in the car, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his leg. He just couldn’t get the image of you smiling at him out of his head. He didn't miss the unusual way his heart reacted when you smiled.

Your eyes did something to him that Sehun didn’t know if he should try to forget or feel happy about. You were genuinely thankful, because of him. No one had acted this way to him for a long time now, Sehun even thought that he had lost the ability to feel anything at all. He got a little dazed staring at you because it felt unreal for someone to act civil, friendly, and genuine in front of him. It’s surprising how much influence other people’s opinion about you can change the way you see yourself. Did he see himself as a murderer too? He didn’t think he could feel normal again.

Sehun pushed these dark thoughts away. He adjusted the rearview mirror again and spared a glance at the yellow folder on the backseat. Collecting his thoughts, Sehun stepped down at the accelerator.

It’s time for real business.

[winchesterelle]

                                  Us Against the World                         Chapter 1: Going to California

Campbell "Elle" Winchester, the youngest Winchester sibling, has never led a normal life—unless one considers ganking ghosts "normal." She teams up with her brothers to take on the world, but there are always bumps in the road. Every family has a story, welcome to the Winchesters.

                    YOU CAN ALSO READ AT: FANFICTION.NET  //  WATTPAD  //  AO3

                                               TRAILER BY FANFICJACKIEOH

The street lights flashed by overhead as a black Impala roared down the surprisingly near-empty highway just outside of New Orleans, Louisiana. Inside the car, Dean Winchester used the steering wheel as a fake drum set with one hand, jamming out to Led Zeppelin's Babe I'm Gonna Leave You while his passenger slept curled up in a ball beside him. His passenger was Campbell Winchester, usually known as Elle. Elle was Dean's baby sister. Well, she wasn't quite so little anymore being twenty-one and all, but he would never tell her that. After all, it was his job to look after her. Always had been always would be, as long as he had a say in the matter.

Dean and Elle had just finished up their job in New Orleans, dealing with some pain-in-the-ass vengeful spirit. They were now headed across the country toward Stanford. They needed Sam for their next gig. It didn't matter that things had turned sour with the other Winchester sibling four years ago nor that they hadn't really heard from him. The truth was, they needed Sam. But Dean hadn't told Elle that detail quite yet. He knew she would probably overreact and try to talk him out of it. But he had a gut feeling about this one.

The reason Dean hadn't been upfront with Elle about their new job was because it wasn't really one of their normal jobs. The task at hand involved looking for their missing father. Neither he nor Elle had been able to get ahold of their father for the past couple days and that worried him. But given their line of work, it was totally understandable. Hence, the road trip to get Sammy. They were going to need all hands on deck if they intended on finding John Winchester. That was just the family business. Their family business wasn't exactly normal, well, unless one considered hunting demons, ghosts, and anything else of the supernatural persuasion normal. But it was the Winchester way of life. The only life they really knew.

Elle slowly rolled to her other side, facing Dean. With her eyes barely open, she squinted at her older brother, trying to process where she was and what they were doing. She attempted to say something to her brother, but her voice was drowned out by Dean's Led Zeppelin jam. When Dean realized she was trying to talk to him, he turned the music down. "You said somethin'?" Dean said as he flashed a grin toward his sister.

"How much farther until the motel?" Elle asked hoarsely, glancing outside, confused by her surroundings...or rather, the lack thereof.

"We're not goin' back there. I—um—I already found us another job."

Elle raised an eyebrow suspiciously at her brother. She could tell he was hiding something, but she wasn't quite sure what. She fidgeted in her seat before she asked, "When did you have time to find one?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, clearly trying to play it cool. "Sometime after burnin' the body and before you woke up, I guess."

"I wasn't sleeping." Elle pouted a little as she shifted in her seat with her arms folded over her chest. "I was just sitting there with my eyes closed."

"Oh, that's what that was. Huh. I probably should have told my paid lady friend to be quieter then." Dean shot his sister a wink.

Elle's eyes widened. "That's disgusting! You did that with me in here?" She quickly looked back at the backseat and grimace. She then punched her brother in the arm, but Dean only laughed at her pathetic response.

"You punch like a girl."

"I am a girl! And there's no way you had a lady friend in here...no way...at least, I don't think you did." Elle's brow furrowed remembering a time when she actually had been in the car and Dean had someone over for extracurricular activities.

Dean chuckled. He had been thinking the same thing as Elle. Of course, he hadn't realized that Elle was in there at the time. He was a little too preoccupied to check the front seat while making use of the back. But that didn't mean he couldn't have some fun messing with his sister. "If you were actually awake you'd know if I did or if I didn't, now wouldn't you?"

Elle groaned and rolled her eyes. "Fine, I was asleep. Happy?"

"Ecstatic. And FYI, there was no curbside lady in the backseat." Dean then glanced over to his sister and smirked. "At least not quite yet. I'll be sure to let you know when Baby's occupied."

The Winchester girl placed her hands over her ears. "Ew. Perv."

Dean smiles before he reached across to ruffle his sister's dark hair. Elle's reaction made him laugh as she scrunched her face and then swatted at his hand. He then withdrew his hand and placed it back on the wheel. Elle tried to smooth her hair back into place, but the bedhead she already had from sleeping made things much more difficult. She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned around to grab her messenger bag from the backseat. With a firm yank, her bag went flying to the front seat. It was like an art form she had perfected.

Elle began to rummage through her bag. Most of its contents wouldn't typically be found in a girl her age's bag. The salt rounds, the bottle of holy water, and a rod made out of pure iron definitely wouldn't qualify her for normal, but the compact mirror she pulled out at least gave her some sense of normalcy for a girl her age. She opened the compact mirror to examine her pathetic appearance, not having showered since yesterday...before her run-in with a vengeful spirit being earlier that day.

The Winchester girl's strikingly blue eyes looked back at her as she looked over the scratches and newly formed bruises on her face. She bit her bottom lip in contemplation. Being bait always came with a risk. Always. She was just thankful that Dean had salted and burned that damn ghost's bones before it had managed to do something worse to her. It had happened before...but she trusted Dean. She trusted him with her life.

With a sigh, she dropped the compact mirror back in her bag before she put her seatbelt back on and stretched out. Elle plopped her Cookie Monster socked feet on the dashboard, knowing full-well Dean was going to give her crap for it, but she did it anyway. Three. Two. One. Just as expected Dean looked at his sister with a stink eye. Elle responded with an eye roll of her own before Dean began swatting at her legs. "Get your smelly ass feet off my baby."

"My feet don't smell." Elle groaned and removed her feet, but sat cross-legged on the seat beside him just to spite her brother. She slowly reached one of her feet toward her brother until it brushed against him.

Dean grabbed her foot and pushed it to the floor. "Have you taken a whiff of them recently?"

"I think you might be mistaking my feet for your feet. Besides, even if my feet smelled they don't even begin to compare to…"

"Sammy's feet," Dean chuckled shaking his head. "Good lord, I swear he bathed his feet in onions, garlic, urine, and sweaty gym socks. Those puppies reeked." He went silent for a moment before he added, "And for the record, your feet do smell."

Elle rolled her eyes in her brother's direction again. Dean may give her crap most the time, but that was the nature of their relationship and she wouldn't change it for anything. Besides, Elle Winchester could give back just as well as she got and Dean knew it.

She sighed, Dean had always been the one to take care of her. Even when she was younger, it had always been Dean looking after her. He was just old enough to take on that role for her. He had taught her how to ride a bike, how to drive a car, and of course, hunting and ganking the supernatural. In most senses of the word, Dean was more like a father to her than a brother. Sometimes, Elle couldn't help but wonder if that role had been forced on Dean or one he had chosen willingly. But sometimes, it was hard for him to switch back and forth between brother mode and father mode-something she knew he shouldn't have had to do in the first place. Her relationship with Dean at times quite contrasted her relationship with her other brother.

Looking out the window once more, she couldn't help but feel some contempt toward Sam. He had just up and left them… he had left her. Something that she had never expected to happen. Whereas Dean had been like a father, Sam had been her best friend and she took him abandoning them quite hard. But the situation Sam had put her in that night hadn't made the situation any easier. Sam had wanted her to go with him to California and deep down, she had desperately wanted to go with him. But like Dean, one of her fatal flaws was that she also had a misguided sense of family honor. She had been so torn that night between going with Sam or staying with Dad and Dean. She had known that either way, someone else was going to get hurt and it wasn't fair of him to spring that on her.

Elle had never voiced her reason to stay. Not to anyone. Ever. Sometimes, she tried to keep the truth from herself. She figured that she should keep her real reason buried, otherwise the flaw in her logic could easily be pointed out and it was common knowledge that once there was a crack in the foundation, the building would eventually come crashing down. Those kind of emotions were deadly to a hunter. Compartmentalizing was a hunter's best friend.

With a sigh, Elle ran her fingers through her long brown hair when her stomach began to growl. She looked peripherally to Dean to see if he had noticed. Dean laughed at and made some dumb joke before he promised they would stop for a burger at the first exit they found.

Ten minutes later, Elle was practically devouring her burger in Dean's car as they sat in the parking lot. God, she had missed having a good burger. Dean claimed that she ruined the masterpiece by putting French fries on it as a condiment, but Elle couldn't care less what Dean thought about it. She liked it and that was all that mattered, right?

Beside her, Dean too was shoveling his food down his gullet so that they could get back on the road. Wherever they were going, it must be urgent, Elle mused. Originally, Dean had wanted to eat while he drove, but Elle persuaded him not to. And by persuaded she meant that she whined about the one time they almost went into the ditch while he was eating Taco Bell. Of course, he couldn't have helped it. There really isn't a good way to eat a taco while driving. And besides, to accuse him of ever purposely trying to harm his baby was obscene.

Dean shoved a handful of fries in his mouth before he slurped it down with his soda. Although, it was pretty obvious that he would give anything to have a beer right about now. Dean finished eating before Elle did. He shoved his wrappers back into the McDonald's bag that sat between him and his sister. He then put the car into drive before driving out of the out of the parking lot, while his sister continued to eat.

As he pulled back onto the highway, he glanced over at his sister curiously. She had been rather quiet and judging from the expression on her face, Dean knew whatever she was thinking couldn't be good. So, he attempted to distract her. "Why don't you give Dad a call when you're done eatin', kay?" Dean said smoothly.

Elle looked up at her brother, her blue eyes shimmering in the dark car. "He's not going to answer, Dean," she responded between bites of her cheeseburger.

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Doesn't hurt to try, Elle-Belle," he said more for the sake of argument, knowing full-well she strongly disliked that nickname. He knew John Winchester wasn't likely to answer, but it was all he could think of doing right now.

"We've been trying." Elle brought her feet up onto the seat and her knees to her chest, curling herself into a ball.

"We'll just have to try harder." Dean knew this wasn't going well...she hadn't even finished her burger, but sometimes his sister could just be plain stubborn.

Elle scoffed. "And how exactly does one try harder? That expression doesn't make any sense. Where does it even come from anyway? Remind me to put that on my list of phrases not to use because they don't make any damn sense. Then again, I should probably start said list because it doesn't actually exist yet."

"Elle!" Dean snapped. "Just do it, dammit. Just call Dad."

Elle looked over to her brother suspiciously, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she nibbled at one of her fries as Dean began humming to another Led Zeppelin song on another one of his damn tapes. While she could appreciate Dean and her dad's music, it wasn't her particular favorite. No, Dean would relentlessly mock her for the type of music she liked to listen to. Then again, he mocked anyone who didn't have his taste in music.

Recognizing that she wasn't going to do it without more prompting, Dean handed his little sister his cell phone. She grudgingly accepted his phone, despite having her own phone, not that she regularly used her own phone for much. Elle angrily flipped open her brother's phone. Elle and Dean both knew that if John Winchester was going to answer anyone's call, it would be Dean's call...not hers. Although that could be another reason that Dean was having her use his phone, Elle mused.

But Dean was seemed to be forgetting the fact that John Winchester hadn't answered any phone calls for days. That should have been a flashing neon sign saying something to them. But Elle hit re-dial on the phone anyway. Not surprisingly, it went straight to voicemail. She quickly ended the call and tossed Dean's phone back at him. "Surprise, surprise," Elle spit cynically. "Voicemail. No point in me leaving one."

Dean knew better than to say anything when his sister got like this, but that didn't stop him from being sorely tempted. He chewed on his cheek to keep him from saying anything stupid. After a few minutes and a bloody cheek later, Elle was the first to speak. But she changed the subject to one Dean wasn't prepared for Mom.

Elle shifted uncomfortably as she looked at her brother. "Dean, what was Mom like?" she asked rather innocently.

"Wh—what?" Dean stammered glancing at his sister, rubbing the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

The Winchester girl played with her hands, glancing down at the floor, almost embarrassed to have even asked. "Mom?" she muttered before looking back at him again. "You know the woman who—"

Dean put his hand up to stop her from finishing. "I know who Mom is, Elle-Belle."

"Well, tell me something about her." Elle folded her arms across her chest and stared at her brother.

Dean thought she looked so young and almost childlike in that moment. But he wasn't sure if he was ready for this conversation. He wasn't even that old when their mother burned to death. So, that's what he told his sister. "It's not like I remember much. I was only four when she—"

"Please?"

Elle's pleading and her damn puppy dog eyes were causing his barriers to crumble. "Um—well—let's see here. She had blonde hair and blue eyes—"

"C'mon, I already know that from the picture you have. Something else. Please?"

Dean shook his head and slapped the steering wheel with his right hand. "Son-of-a-bitch Elle, you didn't even give me a chance to finish what I was saying."

Elle threw her head back and groaned. "Sorry!" She stayed quiet for a moment before continuing with a slight smirk playing on her face, "And for the record, I think I'd technically be labeled as a daughter-of-a-bitch. Just saying."

"Yeah, yeah,again-what'syeah. Whatever you say." Dean glanced at his little sister. She was almost always able to bring humor into any situation, even as self-deprecating as it was, but it was one of the things he admired about her. Dean drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. "Now, where was I...right, as I was saying you have her eyes. Same shade and everything."

Although, what Dean didn't tell her was that was one of the reasons John couldn't stand to look Elle in the eyes. He didn't want to do that to her. Dean nodded his head. "So...yeah."

"And?" Elle asked, leaning forward wanting to know more.

"And what?"

"And that's all you're going to tell me? What about what was her favorite color? Or her favorite flower? Her favorite song? Favorite dessert? There are just too many questions that I haven't gotten any answers to. I'm twenty-one years old and I think I deserve to know something about my mother. Something that I can't get from looking at a picture of her."

Dean raised an eyebrow curiously at his sister. "What's with twenty questions about Mom all a sudden?"

"I—I don't know," was all she offered.

The older Winchester shot his sister a slightly disapproving glance. He knew his sister better than to buy that. "I know for a fact that's a lie, so let's try this again. What's with the twenty questions about Mom?"

"I—I just want to know her so bad, Dean. I always have. I never got to know her. She never even got to hold me. I-I just want to know if she'd like me. If she would be proud of me. But sometimes I can't help but wonder if I'm as big of a disappointment to her as I am to Dad."

There it was, the truth; the elephant in the room—well, car, technically. Dean exhaled slowly trying to carefully calculate a response to his sister's revelation. He knew she had building up something against their father for years, but this was one of the first times she had ever voiced anything about it. "You're not a disappointment to Dad," he said trying to reassure her.

Elle snapped her fingers at him. "Don't try and placate me."

"You know better than to use the big fancy words with me when I'm trying to help you. School wasn't my thing and I was never college material."

"Neither was I. I didn't even try to apply for colleges because I thought it would make Dad happy, especially after Sam. But it didn't. Nothing I do ever makes him happy. Ever. Everything I've done with my life has never been enough for him. I just can't do enough for that man. Do you know that never once in my life do I remember him telling me that he loved me? Not once, Dean. That's weird."

"Elle, Dad's just Dad. It's nothing to get all wound up over."

Elle shook her head. "You don't get it Dean. I see the way Dad looks at you. Hell, even Sam, whom he said he never wanted to see again. He doesn't look at me like that. He looks at me like I'm some sort of abomination from hell that doesn't deserve to live. It's like he's always waiting for the other shoe to drop with me or something. For once in my life, I just want to be enough and for him to say the oh-so scary L word."

Dean sighed. "I promise you that when we find him, you'll get whatever it is you've been looking for. I'll make sure of it. First things first, we kinda actually need to find him."

She wasn't sure that she believed Dean's words, but she knew that Dean believed them and when Dean set his mind to something, he did something about it no matter what the consequences. He had proved his loyalty time and time again. Whatever he did, it was always in the best interest of their family, no matter how stupid. Despite his rough exterior, her brother was a softy on the inside, as far as she was concerned. Although Dean would never 'fess up to that.

Elle could practically feel her brother's eyes on her, waiting for her to respond. If he was going along with it for her sake, then she might as well too. She nodded her head and then asked, "So, what's this plan of yours?"

"Remember that job I was talkin' about?"

There was something in his tone that gave away that there was more to this than he originally let on. She eyed her brother curiously. "Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, the job kinda involves picking Sammy up."

Elle slowly blinked her eyes, processing what he said before she responded. "Kinda or it actually does? There's a big difference between the two, Dean."

Dean glanced at his sister before looking back at the road ahead. "We need Sammy on this one, Elle. I just feel it."

Elle couldn't help but scoff. There was no way in hell that Sam was going to go with them. He had his perfect apple pie life at Stanford. A life that she quite often envied, to be honest. But she knew what Dean was thinking. In order to find Dad, it was going to take the three of them putting their heads together and working alongside each other. Even though his hunting skills might be a little rusty, Sam was pretty damn intelligent and a third set of eyes to discover whatever John Winchester had been up to couldn't hurt.

She understood his plan, but that didn't mean she liked it or that she thought it was going to work. "You know that he's never going to go for it since he's gone all big-shot Stanford guy now," Elle commented.

"I think you're wrong. This is about Dad. He'll listen to reason and family honor," Dean responded.

"Cute names for your fists, Dean," Elle quickly retorted in her somewhat off-the-wallsense of humor before she bringing herself back to her point. "I just don't think taking Sam on in a wrestling match until he agrees with you is going to work."

"It always worked before," Dean smirked remembering a few other times when that tactic had proved useful.

Elle shook her head. "Yeah, when Sam was like half your size. You're the little brother now."

"Shut up. At least, I'm not as little as you are, Shorty."

"Hey, I'm not short, I'm fun-sized," Elle responded having once seen the slogan on a T-shirt. "But enough about me, you need a better plan for Sammy if you expect to get him to agree to road trip-it with us."

"And what, pray tell, do you suggest?" He scoffed with an obvious helping of sarcasm.

Elle pondered his challenge for a moment. She was usually pretty good at coming up with a sensible plan...at least, compared to Dean's usual plans. After about a minute, she had it. "Alright. How about you let me butter him up a little first? The helpless little sister thing always works on you and if I remember correctly it used to work on him too. "

"Helpless, my ass. Sam would never fall for that...and neither do I. We're not that dumb."

"Oh, really? How much are you willing to bet big brother?" Elle questioned as she held out her hand for Dean to place his wager.

"Not much," Dean muttered with a glance over to his sister, knowing she was probably right. "So what exactly are you going to do that's magically going to get him to come along? Huh?"

Elle smirked at her brother. "Well, I was thinking something along the lines of telling him that I'm fighting with you...again. It was really bad this time and I need a place to crash...that's the helpless little sister part. Then comes your part, you come along and say that we need to go find Dad, yadda, yadda, and I say that I won't go with you unless Sam goes because I can't stand being around your big fat ugly face. Then he's guilted into coming along so that he can keep the peace between us. It's practically perfect."

Dean shook his head. "Believable, I suppose...except the part about my big fat ugly face. My face is adorable."

"You keep telling yourself that."

"I will because it's the truth and you know it."

The conversation between Dean and Elle came to a lull. For the next hundred miles or so they sat in silence, a comfortable silence. That was one thing Elle liked about her relationship with Dean, they didn't always have to be talking to be comfortable with each other. You know, sometimes there are those people in life where you always have to keep them talking in order to know where you stand with them?

Well, being with Dean wasn't that way for Elle. They could ride together for hundreds of miles without uttering a single word to each other and yet, she knew that Dean usually wasn't angry with her. If he was angry with her, his facial expressions gave him away. He wasn't as good at hiding it as she was.

So, as for now, they were both content to sit in the Impala in silence as Elle drifted back to sleep while Dean continued to rock-out to his music. When Elle finally woke up again, they were somewhere in Texas, the seemingly never-ending state. It seemed like everytime they drove through the damn state it seemed to get larger and take longer to travel through.

Elle stretched her arms, glancing at a sign that said the next exit, beside the next one, wouldn't be for another seventy miles. She then looked at her brother who attempted to stifle a yawn. His over-tiredness caused him to accidentally jerk the wheel toward oncoming traffic. Dean and Elle's eyes widened as Dean quickly jerked the wheel the other direction to get them back on their side of the road. The sound of a car's horn passed by them as Dean rubbed at his eyes.

"Pull over, you shouldn't be driving," Elle commanded her older brother.

"I'm fine," Dean grumbled. "Just need to change the music."

"That's not going to work, Dean. We've been up since freaking six a.m. yesterday morning. You're tired. Just admit it."

"This is nothing compared to when—"

"You need some sleep. God forbid that you actually let yourself be human for once."

"I'll just pull over at the next town in a few miles and I can take a little power nap and it will be all good."

Elle shook her head."Shows how well you were paying attention. That last sign back there, before the last exit, said that the next stop isn't for over seventy miles, you loser. Just pull over and I'll drive for a couple of hours."

"But you hate driving."

"True, but if you make me choose between dying or driving, my money's on me choosing driving. Besides, would you prefer to get to Sam's so we can find Dad, or that we become road kill, which would be especially pathetic considering what we do for a living."

Dean remained stubborn with his hands gripped firmly to the wheel. He shifted in his seat, trying to sit up straighter. It was obvious he was trying to keep his eyes open wider to prove that he was awake, despite how tired he felt.

Elle shook her head. She knew how stubborn he could be, but having lived with him her whole life, she also knew his weak spots. "If you're not going to think about my welfare, then at least consider Baby's and how devastated you'd be to see her twisted and smashed frame splattered with my guts. Think of her shattered windshield, with my blood—and dashboard with my gut. Poor Baby with-"

Dean put his hand up to stop her. "I get your point, but quit being so graphic around Baby. You're gonna upset her if you keep talkin' like that and then she ain't gonna work right for you."

Elle rolled her eyes as Dean pulled over to the shoulder of the road rather reluctantly. He looked over to her before tapping the steering wheel. Dean then started to go over all the rules about driving his baby. Honestly, he was the one who had taught her how to drive and with this car nonetheless. He was too overprotective, but then again, if he was this protective over his car it only showed how much more he'd do for his family.

When Dean was done explaining things, things which Elle hadn't paid any attention to, he opened the driver's side door and stepped outside. Elle pulled on her red Converse sneakers before she followed suit and opened the passenger side door. She stepped outside into the breeze and couldn't help but notice the stars illuminating the night's sky.

She pulled her sweatshirt tighter around her body as she stared up at the immensity above. There was something about the night sky that intrigued her. Something that made her feel protected and safe. It sounded stupid, but that was how she felt.

Elle tore her eyes away from the sky when she heard Dean's footsteps crunching in the gravel. His figure drew closer and closer to her, easily towering over her. Compared to both of her brothers, Elle was tiny. Both of them were well over six feet tall, while she reached five feet two inches on a good day...if she rounded...and was wearing the right shoes. She smirked. Rounding, she chuckled to herself. At least something from third grade math came in handy every once in awhile.

Elle stretched herself to her full height when her brother stopped beside her. Dean held the keys out in front of her which she snatched from his hand. Normally, she'd have some sort of witty retort about him actually handing the keys over to her, but she didn't want to press her luck. Dean needed some sleep, not to mention that she didn't want to die on the freaking highway.

She adjusted her blue plaid shirt underneath her sweatshirt before she walked over to the driver's side. As she looked through the window, she could see Dean practically sulking. But she knew that he knew she was right...if that made any sense. She chuckled at her brother and slid onto the seat. Part of the reason she knew Dean hated her driving was because she had to readjust every little thing, including the seat which drove Dean nuts. She was short, so she needed the seat closer to the wheel which gave Dean very little legroom.

When Elle had finished adjusting the rearview mirror she turned toward her brother. "So now what do I do?" Elle asked innocently, biting her bottom lip trying to feign nervousness.

"Tell me you're kidding," Dean groaned, his hand moving for the door handle to get out and take the wheel again.

Elle's hand snaked out and grabbed hold of his arm. "Jeez. I'm kidding. Relax. Get some sleep."

Dean looked at his little sister sternly, with his index finger raised. "Just stay on this road and wake me up in exactly two hours. Whatever you do, don't get off this road."

Elle couldn't help but chuckle. "You don't trust me, do you?"

"You're terrible with directions, and even worse when I'm sleeping."

"I'm not that terrible."

Dean raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you remember when we were driving to go gank that ghost in Winona, Minnesota? You took us to Iowa."

The younger Winchester groaned. "I missed one turn and we were still three miles from actually getting into Iowa if you're going to get technical with me. Besides, it wasn't the end of the world."

"Just stay on this road."

Rolling her eyes at her brother, Elle muttered, "Fine."

Elle put the car in drive and carefully maneuvered it onto the empty road. She had driven about five minutes when her hand reached to adjust the radio. She could practically feel Dean's intense glares as she messed with his music, but she stopped fiddling with it when Wake Me Up When September Ends came from the speakers.

She began to sing along to the Green Day song when Dean turned toward her with a peeved expression. She attempted to ignore his glares, but it was futile. "You have gotta be shitting me," Dean growled. "What the hell is this crap?"

"It's Green Day. They've been around for a long time. I figured they'd be a compromise between your music and mine."

"Well, this is shitty music, beyond shitty even. They sold-out and for what? This crap? Change it back."

Elle swatted at his hand as he reached for the dial. "Ah-ah-ah, I don't think so. You're going to follow your own damn rule, that you oh-so-frequently remind me of. Driver picks the music and...hmm...how does that go again?"

Dean shook his head. "Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts his cakehole," he muttered. "But how the hell do you expect me to sleep with this crap on?"

"Peacefully," Elle smirked toward her brother.

"As I bleed from my ears." Dean curled up on his side. His position didn't look comfortable, but Elle wasn't sure his tall frame could find a comfortable position, to begin with.

As another pop song came on the radio, Dean's hands moved over his ears. With a smirk on her face, Elle leaned over and turned the radio off. She would wait until Dean was asleep before she resumed her crappy music jam. Dean seemed to relax more as the car grew silent.

Elle kept her eyes focused on the road as Dean's soft snores began to fill the car. She called Dean's name to make sure that he was out. When he didn't respond, she turned her music station back on but kept the volume turned down fairly low so that today's hits wouldn't wake Dean up.

She had fully intended on letting Dean sleep longer than two hours, but his internal clock must have known when his two hours were up because his eyes fluttered open and he immediately turned Elle's music off. "Pull over. I ain't sleeping to this crap anymore," Dean grumbled.

Elle shook her head before pulled over and they switched back to their original positions, Dean back to driving and Elle back to riding shotgun. The first thing Dean did when he got behind the wheel was change the music. Then he changed the seat, the mirrors, and everything else Elle had changed.

When they crossed the border into California, Elle's stomach began to churn. She had been so confident about her plan to get Sam earlier, but would he even want to see her? It had been complete radio-silence between the two of them since he had left. But more than that, she was stubborn and she wasn't so sure she had forgiven him for that night.

Why did emotions and family have to be so complicated? He was her brother, she should be glad that she was seeing him again, but she couldn't let herself completely go there. Yet, here Dean was, acting like Sam had been gone for nothing more than a weekend fling or something. Elle exhaled slowly. She needed to ignore the feelings that were building up within her. She needed to put on a happy face and push those feelings aside, something that she had already been doing for years. This time shouldn't be any different...or at least she hoped it wouldn't be any different.

Dean interrupted her thoughts when he asked her to pull out a piece of paper with Sam's address out of the glove compartment. Why the hell they called these things glove compartments was beyond her, but nonetheless, she handed Dean Sam's address. "We're close," he grumbled, before calculating the route he wanted to take. After turning down a few more streets, they finally came to a stop.

The Impala shifted into park outside the building where Sam lived. It looked...nice, Elle supposed. Well nice, considering how they had grown up on the road, never staying in one place for long. Nice to have a place to call home. A home, a mother, and her father's love were a few of the only things Elle wanted in life and she was pretty sure she was never going to get any of that. She didn't voice her thoughts aloud though, because while they should have been happy Sammy had gotten out, she knew that both she and Dean (whether he'd admit it or not) were somewhat jealous that he had a home. A place that beat the Impala or a crappy motel any day.

Dean cleared his throat, so Elle turned toward her big brother. "Out you go," he said. "You have one hour to get him in this car before I go barging in there, guns blazing."

"You mean, you're actually letting me do this?" Elle asked in a tone of surprise.

Dean shrugged nonchalantly. "I have to hit the head."

Elle raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Which is going to take an hour?"

"You can't rush digestion," Dean smirked at his sister who rolled her eyes at him.

"You're full of crap."

"Not for long." Dean winked at his sister which caused her to pretend to puke. He laughed. "You walked into that one and you know it."

Elle shoved her brother away from her in disgust before slipping her shoes back on her feet once more. She stretched as she stepped out of the car before she pulled her old blue Jansport messenger style backpack over her head. She slammed the car door shut behind her. Dean awkwardly waved at her with a stupid grin on his face like he was dropping her off at her first day of school but she shooed him to drive away with her hand motions. Surprisingly, he did as he was told.

She stood there for a moment watching the Impala drive away before she shoved her hands in her sweatshirt pockets. Elle then turned to find Sammy's apartment. She hoped she knocked on the right door, otherwise, that could be awkward...not that she had ever done that before. No, never. So, that was a lie, she had experienced that before and it wasn't any fun for her, but she never lived the moment down with Dean.

Elle carefully climbed the stairs until she came to the door to Sam's place. This was it. At least she hoped she was at the right door. She rapped twice on the door before lowering her hand. There was no going back now.

The Winchester girl blew a stray tendril of hair from her face before she decided to throw her long dark hair up into a messy bun. Once her hair was up, there was still no answer at the door. She knocked again, beginning to grow impatient. What if Sam wasn't even here? Maybe he moved and they had the wrong address? Part of her wanted to dash and then whoever was inside could chalk it up to a teenage prank, but she saw a light flicker on.

Moments later the door opened, revealing a girl with long blonde hair dressed in a Smurfs shirt with a toothbrush in hand. "Can I help you?" the blonde girl asked.

"I—um—I don't know," Elle stammered. "I must have the wrong place or something. I was just looking for my brother and clearly, you're not him. So, I'll—uh—I'll just be going."

Elle moved to turn away, but the girl reached out and grabbed her arm. The Winchester girl turned around to find the blonde girl eyeing her up. "Your brother wouldn't be Sam, would it?"

Elle's eyes popped in surprise. "Actually, yeah, his name is Sam. Sam Winchester."

"That must make you, Elle, the infamous little sister." The blonde girl smiled. It was obvious she was teasing Elle. As much as Elle hated to admit it, she was already liking the girl living with Sam...whom she could only rationalize to be his girlfriend.

"Guilty?" Elle said raising her hands in defense.

"Don't worry, you've got the right place. Sam just crawled into bed not too long ago. I was up—well, I think you can see what I was doing," The blonde girl said holding up her toothbrush. "But come on in. I'm sure he'll be really glad to see you. We were actually just talking about you earlier."

Elle muttered to herself, "That's not very reassuring."

The blonde turned and looked at Elle curiously. "What was that?"

The Winchester girl faked a cough. "Nothing. Just had a tickle in my throat."

Sam's girlfriend motioned for Elle to come inside. Elle nodded her head and stepped inside Sam's apartment. The girl smiled. "I'm Jess by the way."

"I'm Elle, but you already know that.'

Jess chuckled as she led Elle a little further inside. She then held up a finger and told Elle, "Just wait here. I'll go get him. He's going to be so surprised."

Elle nodded her head but muttered to herself, "That's one word for it."

Jess disappeared into the back room as Elle stood there awkwardly examining the room she was in. Pictures of Sam and Jess were scattered across the room. They looked happy, genuinely happy. This brought a mixture of happiness for her brother and jealousy. Nowhere did she see a picture of her or Dean. It was almost as if they did not exist. It struck her rather oddly. Did he even miss them?

Elle heard footsteps coming from behind her. She turned to see Sam appear from the back bedroom with a puzzled expression on his face. "Elle?" he asked, trying to figure out whether it was actually his little sister whom he hadn't seen in four years.

She nodded her head and raised her hands, in a what position. "It's me. Surprise."

Next thing she knew, Sam was engulfing her in a bone-crushing hug. She just awkwardly stood there and let her brother hug her while Jess watched from the doorway with a smile on her face. Elle wasn't exactly sure how she wanted to respond.

Thankfully, Jess spoke up before Elle was forced to say something….something she might regret. "Told you so," Jess said playfully to Sam.

Sam looked over his shoulder with a sloppy grin at his girlfriend before he squeezed his sister tight once more and then released her. Elle took a step back from her brother and looked up at him. She had always known that Sam was tall, but he seemed a whole hell of a lot taller than the last time she had seen him. He had to have over a foot of height on her.

Elle offered her brother the best fake-awkward smile that she could and he must have bought it. That or he was just so excited to see her. "Oh my god, Elle. I can't believe you're actually here. What are you doing here?" Sam questioned.

"Dean and I may or may not have had a slight disagreement," Elle stated carefully.

Sam shook his head. He clearly bought her excuse. "A fight? That's just great. About?"

Elle feigned a wince. "Something Dad related."

Sam rolled his eyes before he rubbed his temples. "You know, that's always the case with that man."

The Winchester girl slowly nodded her head. It was the truth, she couldn't deny that. She sighed, "But I don't want to go into that now. Besides, now obviously isn't a good time. I'm interrupting—"

"No, you're not—well, technically you are—but you're welcome here." Sam then turned toward Jess. "She's welcome here, right?"

Jess laughed heartily. "Of course, I've always wanted to meet a member of the mysterious Winchester family that Sam rarely talks about," she responded. "Besides, from the way Sam talks about you...when he actually does...I think we'll get along just fine."

Elle looked at Sam who shrugged his shoulders. Elle was probably the least threatening of the trio Jess hadn't met. Dean often compared her to an annoying little dog: her bark was worse than her bite, but at least she was cute. Or at least that's what she hoped Dean meant by that.

Jess offered to make Elle a sandwich, but the Winchester girl didn't want to impose on the couple. Besides, she needed to get Sam alone so that she could talk to him about her real reason she was there: finding Dad. Not to mention that Dean's outing wasn't going to take him that much longer.

Jess brought a pillow and blanket out and set them on the couch. Too bad Elle wasn't actually going to use them, but she didn't say anything. Jess then excused herself to go to bed not before mentioning something about an LSAT score, then leaving Sam and Elle alone. "Sam—we should talk—"

Sam leaned against the doorframe, with his arms folded across his chest. He nodded his head. "I agree, but I think it should be on some sleep."

"But—" Elle started, but was quickly cut off.

Sam chuckled. "C'mon, what's so important that it can't wait until morning?"

"Well—you see—"

"Morning all right? I'm just so wiped from going out tonight."

Elle looked at her brother curiously. She knew that he never went out on Halloween. It was like his big f-you gesture to everything supernatural. "You went out knowing what day it was?"

"Right? I know you get it." Sam smiled softly at his sister. "But Jess wanted to go out, so I did the good boyfriend thing, you know?"

"I suppose it's more enjoyable when one doesn't know exactly what's out there, huh?"

Sam nodded his head. "That's for sure. I wish I could still be naive about it all, like everyone else I know. Enough about that, though." Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I'm gonna hit the sack. I'll see you in the morning, Elle-Belle."

Elle sighed at the mention of her nickname. She then simply nodded her head, even though she knew that Dean was going to show up before it was morning. And knowing Dean, he was bound to make an entrance. Sam walked away toward the bedroom before he stopped halfway and turned around. "It's really good to see you, Elle. I mean it."

"Yeah, you too, I guess...I mean, given the circumstances."

"I'm still glad you came. I've missed you." Sam smiled at his sister before he turned the lights off and disappeared into the bedroom.

Elle plopped onto the couch and cuddled with the pillow and blanket. She was going to take advantage of it while she had the chance. But just when she had finally found a comfortable position, her phone buzzed with a text message. She groaned as she rolled over to grab her cell phone from the side pocket of her bag. She opened the text message. It was from Dean, the only person who ever texted her.

The text read: Ready or not here i come. And it wasn't long before Elle heard the window jimmy open. Of course, he couldn't use the door like a normal person. Elle shook her head. And of course, he hadn't a clue on how to be quiet. Elle swore the sound of his boots stepping across the floor could wake the dead.

She walked to meet him, but he must not have realized what she was doing because he clomped down on her bare feet with his steel-toed boots. Elle howled in pain as she smacked Dean.

Her scream must have awakened Sam because he shouted from the bedroom, "Elle hold on, I'm coming!"

"This should be fun," Dean chuckled quietly enough for only Elle to hear before she punched him in the arm.

"Don't you dare—" Elle started.

Sam came lumbering into the room, ready to attack. "Get away from her!" the tallest Winchester sibling shouted.

With that, Sam lunged at Dean and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him down. Dean managed to knock Sam's arm away and aimed to strike Sam, who ducked just a few moments before contact. Dean grabbed Sam's arm and swung him around before shoving him back. Sam managed a kick while yelling for Elle and Jess to run, before Dean blocked his kick and pushed him. Sam squinted trying to get a better view of the attacker, whom he still hadn't realized was his brother; but Dean elbowed him in the face.

Elle shouted for the two boys to knock it off, but they weren't finished. Sam attempted a kick at Dean's face, but Dean ducked. Dean tried to swing at Sam, but Sam easily blocked him. Then when Sam wasn't expecting it, Dean knocked him over and pinned him to the floor. One hand is at Sam's throat and the other is holding onto Sam's wrist. "Whoa, easy tiger," Dean said with a grin.

"Dean?" Sam asked in a puzzled tone.

"Are you two done yet?" Elle groaned with her arms folded across her chest. "You're going to wake the neighbors."

Dean laughed and slapped Sam on the shoulder. "You scared the crap out of me, man!" Sam groaned.

"That's 'cause you're out of practice," Dean said. Sam reached for Dean's hand and yanked on it hard before slamming his heel into Dean's back, knocking Dean to the floor. Elle chuckled at the sight. "Or not," Dean said with a smirk playing across his face.

Elle rolled her eyes and looked between her brothers. "Aren't you two just precious," Elle cooed in disgust.

"You shut up," Dean directed toward Elle before turning to Sam. "And you get the hell off of me."

Sam rolled onto his feet before helping Dean off the floor. Dean nodded at Sam, but Sam appeared to be touting a cold and solemn facade. Elle couldn't really figure out what was going on. Why was Sam mad at Dean, but not at her? Then again, why was she angrier at Sam, but not Dean? While she could read Sam's expression and try to decipher her own emotions. She had no idea what the hell was going through Dean's head at this point, which was odd for her

Sam stood there with his arms folded across his chest, impatiently tapping his foot against the floor. "What the hell are you doing here, man?" Sam asked.

Dean smirked one of his infamous stupid smirks that irritated Elle to no end. "Well, I was looking for a beer; but it looks like I got a family reunion instead," Dean responded.

But Sam refused to budge. "What the hell are you doing here?" he repeated.

Dean shook his head and looked at Elle. "You mean, Princess here didn't tell you?" he asked pointing to his little sister. Sam just stared at him. Dean shook his head again. "Why am I not surprised?"

Sam looked rather angrily at Dean. "You have no right to talk about her like that. She told me about you two and how you're being a pain-in-the-ass as usual and she can't stand the sight of your face."

"Did she at least mention that my face is adorable?" Dean grinned and pointed to his face.

Sam took a step toward Dean and snapped. "Cut the crap, Dean! I'm going to ask you for the last time why the hell are you here?"

Dean put his hands up defensively. "Okay. All right. We gotta talk. All three of us."

Dean and Sam started their bickering again, which Elle had no desire to get in the middle of, so she walked toward the kitchen to get a glass of water. As she turned the tap on, Jess made her way into the conversation.

Without even seeing Dean's face, Elle knew that her brother was checking the girl out, especially given the bed clothes she was wearing. Jess made a comment about going to put some more clothes on, but Dean made a cheeky remark about her not needing to. She loved her brother, but God was he a perv.

Elle reached for an apple on the counter beside her which she chucked at Dean's head. She nailed him right on the back of the head. He turned around to glare at her with his hand on the back of his head while Sam managed a laugh. "You were saying?" Elle commented.

"I was saying that I need to borrow this pretty girl's boyfriend and my runaway sister to talk about some private family business," Dean said through gritted teeth before turning toward Jess. "But, uh, nice meeting you."

"No," Sam said sternly. "Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her."

Elle shook her head. She was positive Sam wouldn't Jess knowing about this. "Sam, maybe that's not—" she started, but it was Dean who cut her off.

"No, he's right Elle. Besides, she's almost family anyway," Dean said before looking directly at Sam. "Um, here it is. Dad hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam seemed to scoff at Dean. At least Dean had managed to phrase things without giving too much away. He did at least have some tact left. Sam wrapped his arm tighter around Jess before giving Dean a response. "So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later. Always does."

"Sam, it's different this time," Elle added, folding her arms across her chest.

"How?"

"Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days," Dean said solemnly.

"Jess, excuse us. The three of us need to go outside. Now," Sam said.

Sam walked into the bedroom and threw on some different clothes. While he was gone, Dean attempted to sweet talk Jess, but she remained immune to the oldest Winchester sibling's charms. Sam must have told her a little about him, because she remained rather aloof toward him, a much different reaction than Elle had received.

The middle Winchester sibling walked back into the main room before he pointed toward the door. "Don't mind if I do," Dean said walking out the door. Elle followed behind and Sam brought up the rear as they descended the metal staircase. Things already felt tense and they had barely discussed much of anything.

Elle sighed, "Whoever said family reunions were supposed to be enjoyable has never met the Winchesters."

Neither Sam nor Dean made a remark. Clearly, things were not going well. Elle just hoped they could put their difference aside for a few days to find Dad, because honestly, they didn't need any more family drama than they were already dealing with.

[deztinywarriors]

ES Spectre Interlock Chapter 21-30

[sheeps-ff-archive]

Celestial Arcane, Chapter 1

The first chapter of my rewrite! Available for reading on my AO3, as well!

Also come meet me on my discord!

Ship: HitoIzu, except lesbians.

Equality is a thing of childhood fantasies. Mikumo knew that all too well, seeing as she apparently lived in one.

Midoriya Mikumo is a girl built on dreams, hopes, and pure determination. She is a girl who prospers in this unforgiving world, no matter what anyone tells her. Even if All Might himself told her she can’t be a hero, she’ll just… She’ll just have to work even harder to prove him wrong! It wasn’t the first time someone told her she couldn’t do something, for goodness’ sake!

She was lost in her thoughts of how to do so- refusing to acknowledge the tears that fell down from her bright red eyes to her freckled cheeks as she walked through town, each idea more fantastical and unrealistic than the last- when she walked onto the scene that would mark the start of her new life.

The slime villain had a new victim.

The scene was bathed in harsh lights from the fires, plunging certain areas into pure darkness. Mikumo’s fist tightened into her skirt, still wet with the disgusting slime of the villain as she surveyed the situation, eyes wide and helpless, teeth worrying at her lip as she saw that none of the heroes were moving.

Don’t have the right quirk?! She thought. Her knees shook with fear as she stared up at the villain, when the boy he held victim opened his eyes, and suddenly all of Mikumo’s doubts and thoughts and fantasies disappeared, and all that was left was cold calculations for how to rescue Kacchan, with his big, terrified red eyes, so much like hers, begging for help.

Her eyes fell on a knife in an evidence bag, next to a police officer who was trying to contain the mob, and she made her decision.

She burst into the scene with all the force she could muster, leaning down to grab the knife, and the redhead felt a rush of information as everything seemed to take a backseat in her mind. The yells of heroes and civilians alike faded to nothing, and the faint heat of the flames didn’t even touch her, despite the sparks and embers of fire falling on her arms and hair.

All that mattered now was fixing her stance and drawing her hand back. With the practiced perfection she did not have, she threw the knife, not even looking up to watch it embed itself in the villain’s eye as he screamed. Her hearing faded back in but none of that mattered as much as digging her fingers into the sludge, pushing against the disgusting substance to get Kacchan a breath of fresh air, which he gulped greedily.

The call of All Might startled her, making her squeal as the air pressure pushed her away from Kacchan, but she stayed down, trying to comprehend what just happened.

The second he got on the scene, the matter got resolved… But… If I hadn’t held on to him, if he didn’t have to talk to me, it wouldn’t have happened… And… And if I missed with that knife, he might have died… And that throw… That’s not a skill I had before… Could it be…?

“Hey, kid!” An officer walked up to her, a stern expression on his face, and Mikumo panicked, the words and speculations jumping all the way through her mind and mouth, skipping the usual muttering and turning into clear, loud words.

“I think I just manifested my quirk,” she blurted out, embarrassment fighting and easily losing to elation in painting her cheeks a warm pink, Her expression must have been at least as confusing as she herself felt with the mix of emotions.

“...J-just now?” The officer seemed just as startled as her, and she nodded, her wild red hair moving with her as the policeman took a deep breath before speaking again, in a noticeably softer tone.

“Alright, kid. Here’s how this is going to go. I’ll take your statement, then you go on home, tell your parents what happened, and go get your quirk registered, alright?” She nodded and did as he asked.

Mikumo was far too busy trying to figure out what her quirk was, because it had to be a quirk, right? She couldn’t just have gotten a lucky hit, right?

She kept on thinking about her probable quirk on her way home, up until she got stopped by Kacchan.

“-And you didn’t help me, got it?!” He yelled as her mental light bulb turned on. I know how I can test it!

“Kacchan, give me a knife!” She turned to him, bright-eyed and grinning, her hair a mess with singed ends as it splayed behind her like particularly large flower petals.

The blonde stopped. Tensed. And turned around, trying not to look like he was running away, sweat visibly pooling at the back of his neck.

“Um,” she tilted her head like a particularly confused puppy at that. She never realized Kacchan knew what the meaning of a tactical retreat was.

Hm. Never mind that. Surely she could try at home. Just tape a cutting board to a wall, and throw a knife at it. And if it really was her quirk, she had to find her limits, and discover what it actually was. Could it be some kind of projectile control quirk? Oooh, what counted as a projectile, then? Just, anything she threw? Because if that’s the case, then she couldn’t wait to see how grenades could work for her!

She could be a hero! She could be an amazing hero! Just like-!

“I AM HERE!”

Mikumo did not squeak. She did not jump in the air. No sirree, not her.

“A-All Might!?” She asked, like a totally dignified human person and not a squeaky toy that somehow learned the power of speech, with one hand on her chest to try and calm her racing heart. “W-what are you doing here? Weren’t you just surrounded by reporters?!”

“Getting away from them was a piece of cake! Why? Because I am All Migh-!” Mikumo bit her lips hard to stop the next scream as All Might deflated and spewed blood like a malfunctioning water fountain. She could taste blood on her tongue as she silently licked over her bottom lip, trying to soothe the angry flesh.

”Young miss. I come with thanks, a correction, and a suggestion. If you hadn't been there...If you hadn't told me about your life… I would've turned into a guy in a bodysuit who was all talk. Thank you.” Her hero told her, voice quiet compared to his usual boom, and more genuine than she had ever heard from any adult.

“T...Thank me? I’m the reason that villain got away and got a new victim… You shouldn’t be thanking me at all!” She shook her head, as if trying to throw the very thought away, her curls catching the focus of the street light as they came to life from above the two, showing the deep, dark red in them.

“Yes, but you’re also the reason I was inspired to get up and fight again.” He spoke gently, almost reassuringly, and Mikumo’s red eyes snapped open. The very notion of being an inspiration, to All Might, was so incredibly monumental that it physically staggered her.

“I…” She softly whispered into the wind.

“You know, each of the greats has a story about them from their school days. Most of them have something in common. Their bodies moved before they had a chance to think. It was the same for you, wasn’t it?”

W-was it? She just knew she had to save Kacchan, and nothing else mattered. Not once she saw those eyes asking for help. Not when she had something that she could use to help him.

Would I have gone to help even if I didn’t have the knife?

Yes! Was the clear answer. I had to help!

Tears began gathering in her eyes, her throat dry and tight at the very possibility of what All Might might be saying.

“Young miss, you can be a hero!”

And there came the floodgates. There was no salvaging it now. Mikumo was sobbing openly, desperately trying to wipe away her tears with closed fists, her chest moving frantically as she tried to gulp in enough air to fill them despite the emotions knocking all the air from her lungs, her hair flowing and whipping around in the wind.

“I deem you worthy to inherit my power!”

...What?

Mikumo looked up, her tears still coming, her chest still heaving pathetically, thick strands of hair already sticking to her cheeks from her salty tears.

“W-wh-what?” She tried to question between gasps, still trying desperately to calm her breathing.

While All Might explained it, Mikumo stood silent, trying to calm her tears and steady her heart, already knowing her answer, her teeth instinctively closing on her bottom lip.

“So, will you take my offer?” All Might asked.

He asked. So genuinely hopeful that Mikumo felt even worse about her answer.

“All Might… I’m honored you’d see me as worthy, but... I-I think I just discovered my quirk today, with that knife, a-and I’m not sure I can give your quirk the place and focus it deserves while I’m studying and figuring out my own quirk.” She whispered, her voice nearly stolen by the wind, her brittle, rebuilt composure breaking once again at the fact that this was real. She was declining All Might’s quirk.

“I-I promise, I’ll take your secret to the grave, sir! It’s the least I can do to thank you for trusting me with this! I’m so, so sorry I’m not the right fit, All Might, sir-!” She gasped out, tears blinding her vision as she bowed.

A warm, comforting hand was placed on her shoulder, making her look up with wide, red-rimmed eyes. “Hey, kid… Don’t worry about it. If that really was your quirk back there, then you’re going to need to improve physically to get into a good heroics course. I can probably make you a training regime based on that, if you’d like?”

Mikumo tensed all over, her eyes shut tight as she fought through her own gasping breaths to speak. “I-I couldn’t possibly ask that of you! I mean, that would probably take s-so much of your time, a-and I’m not going to be your successor, so-!”

“Think of it as an apology, then.” All Might’s soft, comforting voice was already a very familiar sign of safety, and hearing it in the flesh didn’t take away from it, despite what he said to her only a few hours earlier. “I was wrong saying that anyone should give up on their dream, and I’d like to apologize to you for that.”

“All Might…” She whispered, trying to smile up at him. “Thank you!”

Neither of them was aware of a third party listening in from the shadows, a considering glint in their maniac eyes.

[cece2046]

Close the Curtains - Chap 1

Thank you my beta @reynardinepttr! Sorry I'm shit at English apparently omg.

Teddy Lupin × Hermione Granger

FFN: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12748991/1/Close-the-Curtains

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12922338/chapters/29528235

@sissannis because... yeah.

I saw her and I said to James, “I’m in love.”

James was texting to Albus or Victoire or whichever cousin our twisted huge family has. He hummed. I waited. About ten text-sent pop sounds later, he jumped a bit and turned his eyes to me. “What?” he asked.

“I’m in love? That thing’s gonna get you killed you know, if you keep putting all your goddamn attention into it.”

James wasn’t having any of it. “You’re in love with who?”

“Whom,” I replied calmly. “With her.” I pointed to her as discreetly as I could manage.

James turned his head and let out a soft “whoa”.

I know. That’s what I felt several moments ago.

The thing about me that you have to know is, I’m a very calm person. You have to be if you want some degree of emotional privacy as a Metamorphmagus. You need to train yourself not to change your hair colour according to your favorite person in the vicinity. That’s very cute and all when you’re a baby. Still cute when you’re a kid, but once you step into teenage years, it becomes inconvenient when all you want is to “play it cool”, you know? And now I’m an adult, that’d be simply embarrassing.

I know my mum didn’t care about showing her emotional status for everyone not colourblind to see, according to hearsay from Harry or Ginny or Ron. But I’m not my mum. I’ve been told many times that my mum was a lot more chipper than me. I don’t know why they keep telling me that. Maybe they just want me to be happier by setting up a role model out of my late mother, as ridiculous as that sounds?

I sometimes think that even though I’m a Metamorphmagus like my mum, I’m more like my dad. Not that I know about him much, mind you, but a kid has a lot to think about when he’s an orphan yet at the same time he has thousands of family members. Have you seen the Weasleys? Honestly.

Anyway, I’m in love but I’m pretty sure that my expression didn’t change at all. Totally cool. This woman is gorgeous. Not in a super model way or something. She’s just so… I don’t know. I just can’t take my eyes off her. She’s different, like she knows a lot of things and has been to a lot of places, yet I can still picture her sitting next to the fireplace in the Burrow and drinking tea with a book on her lap. It’s unsettling, to be honest.

James is saying something.

I turned my eyes to him. “What did you just say?”

“She’s coming our way, mate.” James stuffed his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, seeming a little nervous, which is totally out of character for him.

She is coming our way. Yes she is. Suddenly I don’t know the purpose of my own hands anymore. Where should I put them? Why do I have them if I can’t come up with a comfortable place to put them? Do I look at her? Do I pretend that my phone buzzed? Do I pretend to have a stroke? Do I pretend to be high?

I don’t know what I'm doing and she’s in front of us. She might be in her 30s? I don’t know. I can’t breathe.

She opened her mouth.

“James? James Potter?”

What?

James visibly jumped. Chill, mate. She just said your name. It’s not like she screamed your name when she came.

Wait, what? What now?

“Yes, ma’am. I mean, My Lady. I mean, yes. Yes. I am. James Sirius Potter. James Potter. The Junior. Just James. I mean, yes. My pleasure. And you are?” James stuttered his way through it. I’m proud of him. I still can’t form a sentence.

She smiled. I’ve never seen such a smile before. It’s not sunshine or daisies or unicorns or rainbows. It’s a little warm and a little sad at the same time. It’s like that first moment when there’s a breeze and you realize that summer is ending soon, but it’s not unpleasant, especially if you’re a fan of autumn.

“I’m Hermione Granger. Glad to make your acquaintance, too.”

“Hermione Granger? You’re Hermione Granger? Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m such a fan. You fought next to my dad in the war, yeah? And your thesis on that new application of dragon blood is so inspiring!” James is beaming.

“Thank you.” She gave him another smile. “Are you taking me to Harry? Is that why you’re here? Harry said in the last letter that he was going to send you to welcome me, since he has this meeting that he can’t get out of.”

“Oh yes, definitely. Jeez, dad didn’t say that you’re so hot. What are you, 40 years old now?”

Way to go, James.

She didn’t take offence. “More or less.” And then she turned to me. She’s staring at me. “Teddy?” Her voice is somehow lower. She looks a lot younger at that moment, like a school girl.

I straightened. “You know me?”

She closed her eyes for a bit. “You were still very young when I left Britain,” she said. “No wonder you don’t remember me.”

And suddenly she’s hugging me. She’s tiny compared to me, but I still feel enveloped. Her hair smells nice. I don’t know that scent. I tentatively put my right hand on her back between her shoulder blades. I shouldn’t have done that, because now she’s hugging me harder. She’s so soft. I’m getting hard. This hug needs to stop. Right. Now.

She pulled back like she heard my thoughts. “Shall we?” That’s directed to James, who’s currently staring at me with a thoughtful look.

“Yes, this way, Hermione. May I call you Hermione?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m practically your aunt."

We’re driving to James’s flat in Muggle London and then taking the floo. James is driving. Hermione takes the shotgun. I’m on the backseat. James struck up a conversation about her academic theory about something. I’m not listening. I’m just feeling her voice and thinking.

It’s not a secret that Harry and Ron have a third best friend. They talk about her. Not a lot, but they’re not keeping her a secret from us kids. We’ve all been curious once, but the moment we got a textbook she wrote, the curiosity disappeared. You don't really get curious about your textbook writer. No one does. We all tend to avoid them. So all we know is that she’s their best friend, she fought in the war, and she left for academic achievements. Nice and easy.

Come to think of it, why hasn't she come back to visit? Ever? If she’s such a good friend of Harry and Ron’s?

James is enamoured. He might have a crush on her. I can tell. What about her? I can’t see her face on the backseat. Well, a little. I can see her left ear, partly obscured by her hair. It’s pale and delicate. I want to touch it. I want to lick it. I’m being weird. Her neck is there for me to observe, too. I know if she turns around this moment and sees me, I might as well kiss my chance with her goodbye. This is so creepy, staring at that little patch of skin like a serial killer or… skin… fanatic.

James saved me from myself. “Are you coming with us, Teddy?”

I turned my eyes to him. “Sure. Why not?”

He has this meaningful little evil smile in his eyes in the rear mirror. “I thought you had a date with a certain blonde?”

“It’s not a date. It’s just a drink.”

“So? Are you going or not?”

“I can cancel.”

James whistled. I know what’s on his mind. He’s such a child.

“Are you single, James?” Hermione asked.

James suddenly tensed. “Ah, no?”

Hermione laughed. “Is that a question?”

James chuckled nervously. “Hey, Hermione, are you obligated to tell my parents everything regarding to me? Like, real-aunt stuff?”

I guess that’s the problem when you have parents. You love them. They love you. But somehow you just cannot be the people who know each other the most.

I’m a little surprised that Hermione actually thought about it for a bit. I can tell James is surprised too. People all give quick answers when they’re asked about this. Angelina will say “you bet your ass I will tell Ginny everything kids”. George will say “nah dude this is between you and me, pranksters’ honour”. But Hermione, she’s thinking about it like she’s not sure.

After a moment, she said, “I guess it depends.”

James is a little miffed. “Depends on what?”

She shrugged. “On whether or not it’s necessary to tell them?”

“How do you decide that?” I asked. I didn’t realise that I was already leaning forward and ready to participate.

She turned around and looked at me. “Well, I guess if James’s secret might put him in grave danger, then I should tell Harry about it. Otherwise I’m a pretty good secret keeper.” She paused for a moment, added, “What about you, Teddy? Do you tell Harry everything about James?”

I don’t know why, but her words warmed me in an unexpected way, like in her way of asking, she put me in the same level as her - adult, independent, guardian of that big child sitting in the driver’s seat. It means that she doesn’t see me as a child; instead, she sees me as a partner in crime in this car if James spills one of his secrets, and that pleases me enormously.

I looked into her eyes and said, “I’m the best secret keeper in the world.”

She shivered. Maybe. Maybe it’s just a trick of light and shadows and the speeding scenery outside the window. She didn’t look away though. I didn’t look away either. One moment passed and then we missed our opportunity to look away without being awkward or weird, so we have to keep looking at each other. I can’t control myself that well. I looked down to her lips for a split second, but she caught me. I can tell.

Damn it.

She silently turned around completely. James glared at me for a bit. Merlin, give me a break.

“So,” James said, “if I tell you something about my love life you wouldn’t tell my parents?”

Her voice is steady. “No. Unless your girlfriend plans to kill you.”

“That’s not as far-fetched as you would imagine,” James laughed a bit.

She’s totally relaxed now. “So you have one? Girlfriend?”

James hummed.

“And Harry doesn’t know?”

James hummed again.

She laughed a bit. “Okay. I won’t tell him, but I want a full report.”

James laughed along. “You need to win my trust first.”

She might murmured something like “Harry Potter’s fucking son”. I’m sure I heard wrong.

It’s pretty uneventful after that. We flooed to the Ministry, sat outside Harry’s office, and waited for him to end whatever’s going on in there. An assistant Auror, Kris, said that Auror Potter knew we’d arrived and he’d meet us as soon as possible. It’s interesting, the Auror Office. Everyone’s constantly on the move. Only one or two are sitting at their desks and chewing their quills. I’m guessing case closing report.

Hermione sits between me and James. James is on his phone again. He’s been on his phone ever since Malfoy Industries invented a method to make Muggle devices work normally in magical environments, which means five years ago. I think. Harry threatened to reducto that thing once, but he never did. I guess for a man like Harry, the more ways to find his family at any given time, the better.

She wasn’t doing anything, just watching the office and taking it all in. She’s been away for quite some time, after all. I can feel her beside me even when I’m not looking at her. I don’t feel warmth or smell her scent or something like that. No. I just feel her presence.

And then someone said, in a weak voice, “Merlin’s balls. Hermione.”

I looked up, and there’s Ron. He’s pale as a corpse.

Hermione stood up and said calmly, “Hi, Ron.”

And then he’s kissing her. And my blood turned to ice in my veins.