Multi-Fandom One Shots

Ahead of Her Time (Bookverse Emma Bloom)

The Home was a sweet place. The kids were cute once you understood the temporal differences. "It was a different time" was legit as far as these kids went. You'd gotten the language changes when the Headmistress called you ignorant. So it was a challenging relationship, but worth it. It  felt so rewarding when you overcame the next obstacle. 

But there was one problem you hadn't quite solved. Well, hostile, especially with new people. You supposed if you were hunted for how you were born, you wouldn't trust those you didn't know yet. Oh, wait, you were being hunted for the worst thing about you: how you were born. Oh, no, not being gay, that was too common. No, you got to be hunted for your omnifabrication. Fancy word; you made any machine you could think of, for any reason you could think of, to be made out of any material available. You'd once made a gun out of leaves and its bullets were just as lethal. You were more used to being under attack, clearly, but like you said, it was another time. You had still no idea what any of them had been through and you'd never understand. 

"Head in the game!" Hugh growled at you from behind. You'd taught those who would listen how to play American football. The littler kids were given flags and all they had to do was touch them with the ball. Just in time after that reminder, you jumped to intercept the ball, running for the elephant topiary, your end zone. You saw a flurry of pink come to you and you regretfully jumped the small girl with a leg on either side of her head. You did not see the naked boy without his flag-belt on until you were on your back. You were immediately dogpiled, whether they knew the term or not. You laughed them off of you and you had to call a timeout to the referee, eternally Horace in his insulated suit, because no one was breathing right. As you all piled in for something to drink, you saw Emma in the doorway, likely watching. But she turned away once she saw you saw her, in a huff. You wouldn't have thought she liked you if she wasn't so dramatically against you. 

"Forgive me, Miss, but I require a longer break from your strenuous sport," Millard bowed out. 

"Yeah, let's finish that game another day!" Olive agreed, bouncing as much as she could in her lead boots. "Can we have a tea party instead?"

You smiled at them in sympathy. It wasn't a very different game, but it took stamina and strategy. "Well... do you think I dress for tea?" you asked playfully, holding out your shorts. You were dressed for athletics, tee and pants blotted with sweat and you knew your underthings were drenched. 

The girl wrinkled her nose with a head shake. 

You laughed. "Alright, let me get changed. Where is this most formal celebration?" you asked with a posh accent. 

Olive giggled at you then turned to point at the topiary line. Between them and the forest was the prettiest spot for tea parties or a picnic. 

Nodding, you bounded up the steps as quietly as you could. All the way down the hall, you shared the last room on the right with the dramatic blonde. Luckily, she wasn't in the room. Lifting the bag you lived out of onto the bed, you ignored the flap filled with gears and bolts, and you dug through the clothes made fresh every reset. Eventually, you spotted the familiar pattern of your favorite dress, your only dress. You passed Emma on your way out, but the snarky girl didn't have one of her quips or a huff to leave to. In fact, her eyes just bugged at your black lace atop the deep purple dress fabric. You looked... like you belonged, but fantastically so. It was a vintage dress. You breezed past, meeting the girls at the rendezvous and trying so  so hard to pretend you weren't dying for her approval. Due to her mixed signals, you had no idea what she thought of you, and it shouldn't have bothered you like it did. 

You were a perfect guest, smiling and laughing and sipping at all the right times. But the party wasn't perfect. A shadow cast by nothing hovered behind Claire and interrupted the festivities. Both went deathly scared, but, in a moment of courage, the blonde leaned back and you stood. You leapt over the table, recklessly kicking the air which screamed from her backmouth's bite. 

Enoch came running up, frantic and frightened. "The Hollow got past me!" he shouted out in warning. He sometimes, they all would, take over the daily chore of killing Victor's Hollow to give Miss Peregrine a break. See if she lets you all try that again anytime soon. 

"Go to your room!" you shouted at the girls. They both must've been gone the second you kicked the monster. But you couldn't see the counter-attack until the stick-arm hit you in the abdomen, sending you flying. The tree knocked the breath from your lungs and you hit the ground. You jerked up onto your feet, hearing a more masculine scream from the air. Your heart dropped down into you the Earth. Thinking fast, you kicked the table at the empty space. It hit something animalistic, which whined, and something else hit the ground. You bolted to the rustled leaves, helping the naked boy stand, and retreated to the Home. You made it just to the door, spinning to shut it on the Hollow. 

A spurt of black blood spattered your face and something fell to the floor, also leaking black blood. "Ew, Hollow tongue," Millard quipped to hide his fear. You held back a gag as the vicious fluid dripped in front of your eye, onto the ground by the invisible tongue and visible blood.

"Oh, get out of the way!" Emma blurted out, pushing her way to the front of the kids, with you. 

Bronwyn helped you brace the door shut against the aggressive monster. "We'd have to let it in for your flames to work, Miss!" the sweet girl pretested. 

"Keep hold of that door, lasses," Miss Peregrine's voice directed. Relief filled the room at her arrival, and the ferocity in her eyes plus the crossbow she held proved who was the protector. She left the house to sneak around and surprise the beast. 

Your heart melted from dread and you feared what would happen to your friends if anything happened to Miss Peregrine. Emma in particular. She didn't know that you knew, but the others had let it slip that she was Miss Peregrine's first ward. So their bond was deep, you understood. Even though the blonde pushed back at her Ymbryne and hated not being able to leave the loop, you knew she loved Miss Peregrine. Just like you knew she liked you. As it dawned on you, filling you with the tiniest bit of hope, you felt your peculiarity wake up. You looked around for the mechanics needed for a machine. Specifically, you needed string. You let go of the door and kicked the grandfather clock. It was would reset anyway, but the kids horrored at the sacrilegious treatment. Emma was staring at you, angry-confused. She was always angry-something, though. You brought your hands out and electricity sparked between them and the parts. The machine parts trembled before floating to assemble themselves differently. Even the wood shards lifted up. Metal or not, the pieces welded themselves together to form one massive crossbow. "Bronwyn, go!'

The girl released the door and dove out of the way. 

You could have used the door shards with your peculiarity, but you had what you needed. Because these were your people and you'd defend them. 

Miss Peregrine gaped at the giant arrow sticking out of an invisible chest cavity. The arrow was vertical so the victim was horizontal. Dead. The kids were all gaping at you. Miss Peregrine looked a little funny observed through a broken door. 

*

You wanted to be alone after taking a life, you said. Any kind of life mattered to you. But, in truth, it had been some time since you'd used your peculiarity, and limiting yourself to the era you were in was a pain. 

"Why didn't you tell?" Emma's entitled voice asked you from behind. 

You turned to look at her over your shoulder. "What would I say?" You held your arm out in the direction of the house. "That was the most basic application for my... gift. It's so much more sophisticated in real time. You don't know what a cell phone or a fax machine is. How could I assemble the shapeshifter, shrink ray, or weather whip in 1940? How could I tell?"

Blonde hair shook as Emma non-verbally argued. She always had to argue with you. "No. Why didn't you tell us you consider us family?" She sat down beside you. 

You frowned in confusion, then thought on it. You'd said all that out loud while assembling the crossbow? "It's not like I'd tell you. You hate me," you said lightly, testing her denial. 

Emma rolled her eyes with a big sigh. "You moderners never understand me." She gradually scooted closer, until your sides were pressed up together. She was warm, unbelievable so. Quick as lightning, she turned and pressed her magma tempered lips to your now-blistered ones. She smiled up at you faintly, but with awe shining in eyes more hopeful than you'd ever seen. "What do you say? I'll show you my broken ship, you show me your weather machine."