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cece693 · 6 months ago

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Replacement (Enoch O'Connor x M! Reader)

I wanted to add something to the relatively small pool of fics for this fandom. All characters are of age and can be envisioned as their book or movie counterparts.

Summary: As a healer, you naturally seek to care for those around you. So it was easy to befriend Jake when he first entered Miss Peregrine's loop, confused and hurt by his grandfather's passing. However, your best friend doesn't see it that way.

It was official. Enoch hated Jake. Not that the other children noticed, or if they did, they were smart enough to not mention it. Maybe it was jealousy. Perhaps he was bothered by how Emma's eyes sparkled with interest whenever the American boy was around. Or maybe, it was the disruption to their routine, as Jake's presence always seemed to stir the loop like a stone tossed into a still pond.

But Olive knew the truth, for she had quickly discerned Enoch's emotions behind the venomous words he threw at Jake whenever he came near. It wasn't about Emma or their routine being disrupted. It was all because of you.

From the moment Jake first stumbled into their world, he latched onto you—an oddball healer with a gentle touch and ability to mend the deepest cuts, both physical and emotional. So when Jake arrived, it was natural for you to be his guide, explaining things in a way that made the strange world of peculiars feel less threatening.

Naturally, Enoch hated it.

Before Jake arrived, you’d spend every minute by his side—looking over his shoulder, letting out a bright smile whenever his creations came alive. Enoch secretly treasured these moments, feeling comfortable in your presence and falling for you more each day. But now? Now it was Jake this and Jake that.

No space was safe from Jake's influence, nor did the American make it easy to escape his presence. It seemed like whenever Enoch and you were together, he appeared from thin air, begging you to help him with something. It was as if the American knew of Enoch's feelings and acted to rile him up, whisking the attention of the only person he actually liked. It's not as if there weren't any other children who would be happy to spend time with the American, why did he seek you out specifically?

Every time he saw you two together, a storm brewed inside him, and a tight knot formed in his chest. Enoch wasn’t stupid. He understood what jealousy was, but this wasn’t just jealousy. This was fear. Fear that you were slipping away from him. Fear that Jake was replacing him.

One day, it all became too much.

Enoch was sitting at the table in the library, flipping through one of his old, tattered books on embalming techniques, though his focus had long since disappeared. His mind, as usual, was on you. He had tried to pretend like nothing was wrong, but the bitter feeling gnawed at him constantly. And then, as if the universe was mocking him, you and Jake walked into the room together.

Jake was talking about something, gesturing wildly with his hands, and you were laughing—a bright, carefree laugh that Enoch hadn’t heard in days.

That was the last straw.

"Seriously?" Enoch snapped, slamming his book shut, startling you both. Jake stopped mid-sentence, blinking in confusion, but Enoch didn’t care. His gaze was fixed on you, his voice sharp and biting. “Do you really have to follow him around all the time?”

Your smile faltered, a confused frown replacing it as you looked at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Enoch’s voice grew colder, harsher. His jealousy had festered too long, and now it spilled like poison. “Ever since he got here, it’s like you’ve forgotten everyone else exists.”

Jake shifted awkwardly beside you, clearly unsure of what to say, but Enoch didn’t give him a chance. “You’re spending so much time with him, acting like he needs you for everything. It's pathetic."

Your eyes narrowed, a flash of anger crossing your face. “He’s new here, Enoch! He does need help adjusting. And I’m not just going to ignore him because you—”

“Because I what?” Enoch cut you off, his eyes blazing. “Because I’m not needy enough for you? Because I don't fawn over you like a mutt every second like he does?””

Your mouth opened slightly, stunned by his words. Enoch could see the hurt forming in your eyes, but he was too wound up to stop now.

“Face it,” Enoch continued, his voice colder now, “you just want to feel like you matter to someone, right? Like you have some purpose. Well, here’s the truth—you’re not needed here. Jake can deal just fine on his own and I don’t need a dessolent friend.”

Your face twisted in hurt, and that twisted something deep inside Enoch. You stared at him, your hands trembling slightly at your sides. “You’re wrong,” you finally said, voice breaking. “But I guess I was wrong too, thinking you were my best friend.”

Before Enoch could respond, you turned and stormed out of the room, leaving him and Jake alone. The American looked like he was about to say something, but Enoch shot him a cold glare, daring him to speak.

Days passed. Days where Enoch didn’t see you, didn’t hear from you, and the space you used to fill in his life became an empty void he couldn’t bear to acknowledge. You weren't just avoiding him, you had begun to spend even more time with Jake, much to Enoch's dismay.

He tried to act like it didn’t bother him. He pretended he didn’t care when he saw you laughing as if his absence meant nothing to you. But it did. It hurt more than Enoch was willing to admit. It was only when Olive pushed him to accept his mistake that led him to stand at your door, long after the other house's inhabitants had gone to bed.

Enoch stood there for a long moment, his hand raised to knock, but his usual stubbornness kept holding him back. What if you didn’t forgive him? What if you’d already moved on and replaced him for good?

Taking a deep breath, Enoch knocked.

After a few agonizing moments, the door creaked open, and you stood there, blinking groggily at him in the dim light. You looked surprised to see him, and Enoch couldn’t blame you.

“What do you want, Enoch?” you asked, your voice flat, distant.

“I…” Enoch faltered for a moment, struggling to find the right words. His usual snark and bravado were gone, replaced with something more vulnerable, more uncertain. “I came to…apologize.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe, clearly not ready to let him off the hook so easily. “For what?”

“For what I said,” Enoch muttered, not meeting your eyes. “For being a complete prat.”

Your expression softened, but you didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue. Enoch sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look, I didn’t mean it. Any of it,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I was just…jealous. Of Jake. Of the time you’ve been spending with him.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Jealous? Why?”

Enoch hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it. He could either admit the truth or lose you for good. Taking a deep breath, he finally met your gaze. “Because I like you,” he confessed in a whisper. “I’ve liked you for a long time, and seeing you with him made me feel like I was losing you. Like I wasn’t needed anymore. Like I was being replaced.”

The weight of his confession hung in the air, and Enoch braced himself for your response. He had no idea how you would react, but he had to say it. He couldn’t keep pretending like it didn’t matter anymore. You stood there for a long moment, staring at him, processing everything. Then, slowly, you stepped aside, opening the door wider.

“Come inside, Enoch,” you said quietly. “Let’s talk.”

And for the first time in days, Enoch felt a small glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things could be fixed after all.

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frost-queen · 8 months ago

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To be truthful (Reader x Enoch O'Connor)

Requested by: anon Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @alex–awesome–22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @markive-m

Emma was finishing setting up the table with Fiona. Holding some of the plates, she tilted her head to look into the hallway. – “Didn’t I call for diner a minute ago?” – Emma said out loud, turning around to look at Fiona for confirmation. Fiona shrugged her shoulders, placing a bowl with fresh cut carrots on the table.

“Should I call again? Miss Peregrine insists upon punctuality.” – Emma rambled on, getting nervous that no one was coming through the door. Setting the plates down on the table she had made up her decision. – “I’m calling them!” – she made clear, holding her hands to her hip.

“You’ve just called.” – Fiona answered with a roll of her eyes. Emma was about to shout when Hugh and Claire came running in. Almost running Emma over with their game of tag. Fiona jumped in front of them to stop them before they would bump against the counter.

With her calm hands, she brought them to a stop. Both were panting loud. Fiona simply had to point at Emma then at the table for them to understand. Horace and Millard entered a moment later. Horace chattering loudly as he blindly went to his seat.

Olive and Enoch joined as well. Olive having a soft smile on her lips. They both went to their seats at the table. Emma looked into the hallway with a worried look. – “Where is Y/n?” – she asked. – “Didn’t you call her?” – Emma turned to Olive and Enoch. Enoch sat down, pulling his shoulders up.

“Do I look like her babysitter?” – he answered rudely. Olive gave him a little glare to not be so negative from across the table. Emma’s gaze fixed on the clock, knowing Miss Peregrine would arrive any moment for diner. It made her panic that you still weren’t here.

Enoch jumped out of his skin, startled as he gripped the edges of his chair with a tight grip once you had popped up behind him. – “Bloody hell Y/n!” – he cursed out that you had scared him. You placed your hands on his shoulder, coming to lean over his shoulder.

“Did I startle you Enoch?” – you asked sweetly as he pushed your grip off him. Groaning in annoyance. – “Good of you to join us Y/n.” – Miss Peregrine said entering the room. You quickly went to your seat right across from Emma. – “Good day Miss Peregrine.” – you all called out in unison as she went to sit at the head of the table.

“Fiona splendid work with the vegetables.” – she complimented. Fiona smiled sheepishly, leaning back in her seat rather bashful. – “Now shall we eat.” – she unfolded her napkin to lay it on her lap. The moment was set as everyone got in motion. Reaching for food, chatting and laughing away. From at the other head of the table, you noticed Enoch staring at you or rather glaring at you.

You moved a bit forwards so he could see your face fully. You returned his glare with a sweet smile. Enoch only narrowed his eyes more, swallowing hard. Olive gave him a nudge. – “Stop glaring.” – she whispered to him. Enoch exhaled soft, turning his head away. – “It’s okay Olive. I know Enoch means well.” – you told her with another smile.

Enoch clenched his jaw, trying not to freak out about that. – “Don’t make assumptions for me!” – Enoch replied. – “Why do you dislike Y/n so much?” – Horace questioned as everyone adored you. Enoch leaned a bit forwards. – “Stay out of it.” – he shout-whispered. Miss Peregrine observed from afar. When you turned your head, you caught up with her gaze. With a soft smile, she winked at you.

After diner, the youngest ones were free to play, while the older ones were left to clean the table. You started collecting plates, stacking them on each other. Emma stood by the sink, letting water down to start the dishes. You popped up beside her, giving her a soft fright. – “Goodness Y/n.” – Emma blurted out, one hand on her heart. – “Can’t you just walk. The table is right there.” – she pointed out at how close it was.

It would only take one a few steps to reach her. Yet you chose to teleport yourself beside her. – “Y/n likes to be special.” – Enoch mocked holding a few glasses. You teleported away from Emma, appearing behind Enoch. – “I like teleporting.” – you told him as he had jumped back. With a loud groan he handed the glasses over to Olive.

You started collecting the cutlery. – “Y/n.” – Emma said daringly with a warning finger to not pop up behind her. You puffed soft. – “You are no fun.” – you mumbled, walking up to her instead of teleporting. – “Satisfied?” – you asked dropping the cutlery in the sink. – “Very.” – Emma responded, patting you on the head. – “Now help me.” – Emma took a towel, laying it on your head, having a laugh at it. You pulled it down.

Giving her a nudge with your hip against her to make some room. Emma started washing the dishes as you dried them. Olive and Enoch putting away the left overs into the fridge. Whilst Enoch was working, he couldn’t help himself but admire you. Gaze upon you and watch what you were doing. Olive noticed it, giving him a little nudge in the side. – “You are staring.” – she whispered in his ear. – “I am not.” – Enoch grunted out.

He quickly averted his gaze, yet he kept being drawn to you. Emma and you were chatting whilst finished the dishes. Olive joined the two of you, putting the dishes away. Enoch cleaning the table. After cleaning, you immediately popped away. Emma shrugged her shoulders, leaving the room to head outside. Enoch left as well with Olive right behind him. – “Are you going to play with your dolls?” – she asked, holding her hands behind her back.

“Maybe.” – he responded, looking over his shoulder to her. A part of him wondered where you were. With a soft sigh, he went upstairs with Olive. Pausing almost at the top of the stairs, he saw you walk across the hallway to your room. There you were. Olive poked him in the back to move. Enoch got in motion, heading for his room as he couldn’t help himself but glance at your door. Olive noticed it, stopping to knock on your door. – “What are you doing?” – Enoch panicked.

“Asking if Y/n wants to join. Don’t you want that?” – she said having a sense of his feelings towards you. It had become clear to her for a while now that his act of dislike towards you was just a charade. A façade to hide behind. Enoch tugged his hands in his pocket, looking away. Olive knocked again as you hadn’t opened the door yet. Grabbing the handle, she opened the door. – “Y/n?” – she asked softly, popping her head inside.

To her surprise your room was empty. – “Must have teleported out.” – Olive let out, closing the door once more. With a smile, she returned to an almost sweating Enoch. – “Now you mustn’t worry. She’s not here.” – she teased, patting him against his shoulder. They entered his room as Enoch went to sit. A doll in front of him on the table. Olive picked up one of his tools, already presenting it to him.

“Thank you.” – he said accepting the tool. He started working on the doll. – “Enoch.” – Olive started, hearing him hum loud. – “You like watching Y/n do you not?” – she asked as he nearly had a heartache. With wide eyes, he dropped his tool. In shock turning round in his chair to her. – “What?” – he called out. Olive giggled amusingly. – “I’ve noticed you watch Y/n a lot from afar.” – she explained. Enoch puffed loud. – “I do not.” – he replied turning back to his doll.

“It’s alright Enoch, you mustn’t be frightened of it.” – Olive went on handing him another tool. – “Of what?” – Enoch answered bitsy. – “Of having feelings for Y/n.” – Olive finished. Enoch’s hand slipped as he broke a piece off the dolls porcelain chest. He turned around getting up. – “I do not have feelings for Y/n!” – he shouted as Olive was unimpressed. – “Enoch, just admit it. Why are you even scared to admit it?” – she asked. – “I don’t have anything to admit as it isn’t true!” – he made clear with a glare.

“Liar!” – Olive shouted back, having enough of him lying to himself. – “You like Y/n and you are too afraid to admit it.” – she started, poking him in the chest. – “So you better stop being so scared and let yourself love her!” – Enoch fell back in his chair with her sturdy poking in his chest. Speechless, he stared at her. He had never seen her speak so loudly or react so vibrant. – “So Enoch O’Connor, you are going outside, find Y/n and be nicer to her as a beginning.” – she ordered him, pointing firm at the door.

Enoch shook his head, not wanting to do it. Olive removed a glove, showing her hand that caught fire to him. – “Don’t make me burn your puppets.” – she threatened. Enoch stumbled out of the chair, sweating with shock as he rushed downstairs to do as he was told. Too afraid Olive might actually burn his puppets or himself for the matter if he didn’t act upon his feelings. Olive sniffed out the fire, having a satisfying smile on her face.

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morally-gray-men-for-life · 5 months ago

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Midnight Confessions (Part 1/2)

Pairing: Enoch O’Connor x Fem!reader

Genre: fluff, almost smut, friends to lovers

Summary: After months of you both pinning over each other, he comes to you one night and feelings come to the surface.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: Not beta or proof read, slight ooc Enoch?, marking kink

A/N: This is the first fanfic I’ve ever written I apologize for the shit writing, this was also loosely based off a conversation I had with a bot I made on character ai. Also no hate to Olive I love her

ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

Its half past midnight and you can’t sleep, deciding to read you quietly get out of bed, the floor boards of the old children’s home gently creaking under your feet as you take a few step towards your book shelf.

Before your finger tips could graze the spine of the book you reached for you heard a quiet knock at your door, considering the odd hour you assume it’s one of the young children coming to you because of a nightmare, not wanting to wake Miss Peregrine and disturb her very structure schedule.

Instead, when you open the door you find Enoch staring back at you, dark circles had started forming around his eyes from lack of sleep you guessed. “Enoch? What are you doing up?” You spoke in a hushed voice so no one would be woken up, the walls of the house were practically paper thin.

He shifted awkwardly from one foot to another in the doorway, his gaze falling to the floor, “I could ask you the same thing ..” he muttered, clearly looking slightly uncomfortable, unsure of himself, this was unusual for him you thought, usually he was less fidgety.

You smile slightly at him, he was never someone to seek out company unless it was you, for some reason you and him had bonded almost instantly after meeting, “I just couldn’t sleep honestly, do you want to hangout maybe? Miss Peregrine can’t get mad about you being in my room if she’s asleep” you giggle at the last part of what you just said, remember the time Miss Peregrine gave a lecture after realizing you and Enoch had become friends, apparently because of us being teenagers we weren’t allowed to be in one of our rooms together without someone else there.

He let out an amused scoff as he remembered that day, thinking back to how mad Miss Peregrine had gotten after she walked into your room without knocking and saw the two of you sitting on the bed together talking. Her face going as red as a tomato, “You don’t think she’d be too upset if she knew you were letting a boy into your room this late at night?…She might faint.”

Enoch smirked, a hint of his usual cockiness returning with that familiar expression, you smiled and laughed softly into my hand, you moved away from the door so he could come in.

You walked over to my bed and sat cross legged by your pillows, watching him close the door behind him and sit by the foot of your bed, “It’s not like you’d try something, your so head over heels for Olive” laughing at your jab at his blatant dislike for the girl that has been following him around like a lost puppy since they met.

Enoch’s smirk quickly turning into a frown and a grumble of displeasure, remembering the way Olive had practically been stalking him since she arrived, the thought of that girl irritating him, his dark eyes rolling at the mention of her name. “Don’t remind me.. that girl is a little demon. I swear she’s been following me everywhere recently. He muttered bitterly, leaning back against the foot of the bed frame, crossing his arms and stretching out his legs in front of him.

“Awwwwww poor Enochhhh, she just has a crush on you, it’s kind of hilarious”, you move yourself so you’re laying on my back with your head next to his thigh, you laugh at the teasing of him knowing that he finds it a tad bit amusing. You yourself had developed a small crush on Enoch over the months that you had been friends. He was sarcastic, funny, sharp witted, kind hearted, had a soft spot of little kids, just the right amount of mean sometimes, and so fucking handsome.

“Plus it’s kind of hilarious watching her follow you around like a dog and you have to deal with it because you know Miss Peregrine would get you in trouble for being mean, and your soft spot of kids doesn’t help considering she’s a bit younger than us”. Enoch was clearly trying to keep an annoyed and grumpy expression on his face, his arms crossed over his chest, trying to keep a scowl on his face but ultimately failed when a small snicker came out.

The sight of olive following him around almost like a lost dog was actually quite funny as you said. He looked down at you as you laid on your back next to him “I do not have a soft spot for children.” He muttered in a grumpy voice, that was very much not convincing, you snicked at his extremely obvious lie. Looking up at him thought your eyelashes to make eye contact with him, he looked almost to handsome in the sliver of moonlight coming through your curtains, his short black loose curls still perfectly in place like they always were, his brown eyes that looked almost black from far away but in the light they looked like pools of honey.

“Ya I totally and completely believe you Enoch, you just simply want to dressing up as a fairy princess with Clair and Bronwyn and let them cover you in lipstick and eyeshadows, totally believe you”, you say with sarcasm and laughter in my voice, trying not to burst out laughing at Enoch’s attempt to keep his grumpy personality in tact around me.

He always seemed to smile more around you than most people, and god was his smile the most gorgeous thing you’d ever seen in a long time. Enoch tried his best to look even more grumpy and annoyed but a small smile tugging up the corner of his lips at your sarcastic remark, the memory of you walking in on him dressed in a pretty pink princess dress that Bron and Clair had forced on him popped into his mind.

“I only let them do that because they threatened to cover my room in glitter in my sleep if I didn’t let them dress me up..”, he grumbled defensively, crossing his arms over his chest, not wanting to admit that he had almost enjoyed it a bit. “We both know Bron is too sweet to do that, and Clair is basically the closest thing we have to an angel on earth. You keep telling yourself you had to though sweetheart-” You were laughing so hard tears start streaming down my face, you cover your face with a pillow so you hopefully don’t wake up anyone in the house with the sound of your cackling, you role over on your side facing Enoch from your stomach cramping from pure laughter and barely being able to breath without wheezing.

“God I missed hanging out with you like this”, you say trying to catch your breath and wiping your tears away. Enoch’s small smile only grew wider as he watched you laughing so hard that you couldn’t even breathe properly, the sight of your tears rolling down your cheeks combined with the nickname you had accidentally called him made his heart pound loudly in his chest.

“Yeah me too.. even if you’re completely insufferable most of the time” He joked, trying to hide how affected he was by you calling him ‘sweetheart’. “Oh hush you know you love me, you’d be so incredibly bored without me Enoch”, slight flirting had always been common in your friendship, especially on your side, you’d flirt with him naturally and then have to cover it as a joke so he wouldn’t know you’ve had a crush on him basically since you met.

Enoch was painfully aware of the way you’d often flirt with him, knowing it was all just a joke but he always secretly wondered if there was any truth to your flirtations “Me? Bored without you? I think it’d be way more fun around here without your annoying ass to bug me”, he teased in return, trying to act like the idea of you not around anymore didn’t terrify him.

You were suddenly feeling confident, most likely from the lack of sleep but it’s all the same, considering if maybe you should test if he feels the same for you, “Oh ya and you totally wouldn’t miss me at all, you know Clair tells me what you say about me right?”

Clair has never told you anything about what Enoch said about you before, but it’s a good way to see if he talks about you.Enoch felt like he just might have a heart attack from how fast his heart sped up in his chest, going from the usual pace to almost knocking against his ribs, the thought of you potentially finding out what he’s said about you made him feel like he was drowning.

“…what the hell has she been saying?”

He tried to play ignorant, keeping as stoic and unbothered look on his face as he could even though he was panicking inside, which was made evident by his accent getting thicker in the question. Liking the reaction he gave, you decided to mess with him a bit more, thinking of something that could get a bit more information out of him.

“Oh just that your hopelessly in love with me and she heard you talking about me in your sleep because her room is right next to yours”, you choke back the laughter that rises in your throat, she had told you he was talking about you in his sleep but nothing other than that.

If Enoch thought his heart was going fast before it was absolutely hammering in his chest now, it felt like it might explode from the sheer force of it. Panic rising in his throat as you joked about the possibility of him being in love with you, “what.” He exclaim almost incredulously, trying to fight against the redness that was spreading of his face, He couldn’t let you know how flustered and embarrassed he was.

You were a bit surprised at his reaction, except him to say something like her making up stories and not listening to her, but it was almost like he had said those things you joked about. Feeling a tab bit more confident you maneuvered yourself so you was now sitting up facing him. “Honestly I’m just glad Emma hasn’t reported back to you on what I’ve said about you, I’d be done for”, you chuckled out of nervousness and try to push down the anxiety growing in my stomach, what I was saying was risky. Thankfully if this interaction went south I could play it off as a joke.

Enoch’s heart was so loud it thumped in his ears, feeling a new rush of anxiety go through him as you confirmed that you thought about him in a similar way. Trying to act nonchalant, he let out a scoff and leaned back against your bed frame more “And what have you been saying about me? That I’m annoying? Cocky? That I’m way too handsome for my own good..?” He added the last part, looking for confirmation that you found him attractive.

you moved so your top half was now laying over his outstretched legs, a small blush rising to your face as you looked into his eyes once more. “I mean…that last part isn’t to far off from what I’ve said” You smile looked back on the many memories you have of Emma and you in her room, you going on and on about your massive crush on Enoch and her ranting about her crush on Jake.

Enoch’s breath hitched at the feeling of your top half laying across his legs, a new rush of excitement going through him. He swallowed back any nerves he had and tried to act a little arrogant and cocky, “Good to know you think I’m attractive.” He smirked, his heart pounding hard in his chest still, he was terrified and excited at the same time.

Deciding to take this flirting a step further, you move my hand to his arms that are loosely crossed over his chest, tucking your frankly small hand to his between his arms and tug his right arm towards you. Moving his hand so he was now holding your face, almost completely unable to look away from his eyes and before you could think you said, “Do you think I’m attractive?”

Enoch’s breath stuttered in his chest, his hand holding your face still as he looked down at you, the sight of you looking up at him through your eyelashes sent a thrill through him. He tried to continue his cocky nonchalant tone. Trying not to focus on how close you were to him, “Do you even need to ask? You’re the prettiest girl here, of course I think you’re attractive.”

Your eyes went wide and your confident demeanor dissolved at his words. A bright red blush spreading over your neck, face, and tips of my ears, shifting your gaze away from his now not have to the guts to flirt with him so straightforward. Butterflies filled your stomach in excitement and nervousness.

“Thank you… That means a lot coming from the most attractive guy on the island…”, your voice was barely a whistle for the last part of what you said, almost all confidence lost from your body.

Enoch felt a rush of pride go through him at your words, the confident smile returning to his face almost instantly. He had always been told he was attractive by girls in the past but when you said it, it meant so much more to him. He felt his body relax as the confidence returned to him, the sight of you suddenly so shy and nervous making him feel more in control, “I know I am, it’s quite obvious actually.” He jokes, not being able to resist a chance to show off his cocky and arrogant side, you laugh and roll my eyes at his joke, you’d always loved his sense of humor, “Oh shut up before I kiss you.”

You’d said it without thinking, almost immediately regretted what you just said a bit. You’d had the urge to kiss him since he come into my room and sat on the bed, if you didn’t care about anything you’d be making out with him by now.

Enoch had been in the middle of some smart-ass reply but he froze at your comment, the thought of kissing you making his brain go totally blank. His eyes widened and his cheeks coloured a soft red at the thought of you kissing him and the image of you straddling his lap crossed his mind, making his heart flutter in his chest. He could no longer resist the urge to tease you.

“And what if I want you to kiss me?”

“Don’t tease me Enoch, It’s cruel” you said with tinge of nervousness lashing my voice, you hadn’t kissed anyone in about 2 years but god did you want to kiss him.

The desire in your voice did not go unnoticed by Enoch, setting of a new wave of emotions in his chest, he’d never heard you sound like that before and it made his heart beat faster than he thought possible. He continued to look into. Your eyes, seeing the mixture of nervousness and desire on your face and feeling it echoed in his own chest.

“Oh yeah? Then do it.”

He challenged, his voice getting gruffer and his accent getting thicker, watching your reaction to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable. Without thinking you grabbed the collar of the sleep shirt he wore and pulled his face down to yours, your lips met and it felt like your body was lit on fire. Your lips fit perfectly together as you stayed there just savoring the moment for a while, your lips moving perfectly in sync.

Enoch let out a small sigh, his mind going blank as your lips met. Every thought was gone as you kissed. You lips against his felt like nothing he’d ever experienced before, like something straight out of a fairytale. He pulled your face closer to his as he kissed you, wanting you to be close as possible to him, wanting to hold you as if he was afraid you’d disappear from him.

You parted for a second and moved to sit on his lap, straddling him. Kissing him again and his hands moved to your waist, a soft groan falling from your mouth and being muffled by his. You moved the hand that wasn’t holding his shirt collar to his hair, threading your fingers through it and feeling the inky black strands between your fingers.

Enoch groaned as you moved to sit in his lap, his hands grabbing onto your hips, his hands gripping at your skin, the feeling of you in his lap making him feel strangely feral. Feeling your fingers in his hair cause another sound to come from the back of his throat, his lips left yours as he started to leave a trail of kisses down your neck, you let out a small gasp and soft moan at the feeling of his lips on your neck, before you know it he’s sucking marks on to your skin. Your hands move to the back of his neck and head, playing with his hair as he leaves love bites and hickeys across your neck.

Feeling your hands in his hair, your nails digging into his skin and the small sounds falling from your lips made him feel like he was drowning but in the best possible way. The sound of you moaning his name quietly only encouraged him to keep sucking and biting your neck, all he wanted was to hear more of you.

Three hours go by, next thing you know you are both naked under the covers of your bed, sweaty, exhausted, and completely euphoric. The sun is starting to just peak out over the horizon and come through a small crack in the curtains, Enoch holding you to his chest and rubbing small circles on your back while you lay there as happy as can be, “Told you, you’re hopelessly in love with me. The feeling is mutual though so I can’t really joke about it too much”.

You giggle at your own words and lean up to give him a small kiss on they jaw, Enoch chuckles and rolls his eyes at your comment, his hand sliding up and down your back as he looked down at you laying on his chest. The events that had just happened in this room over the last couple hours still felt like a dream, the feeling of you in his arms just felt so surreal. He tightened his arms around your waist, “Please, you’ve been hopelessly in love with me for months.” He jokes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, you let out a laugh thinking about what would happen if Miss Peregrine walked in and saw the two of you like this.

“True I’ve been in love with you since we became friends. Oh god could you imagine if Miss Peregrine walked in right now? I think she’s spontaneously combust!” Laughing at the thought of her, she almost had a heart attack when we were just sitting on the bed talking about books, Enoch chuckled at the thought.

Miss Peregrine would have a field day if she walked in on us right now, the two of looking utterly disheveled and naked under the sheets. His hands continued to roam all over your back, never getting tired of the feeling of your skin under his hands, “She’d have me banned from your room in an instant. And we both know you’d never get a moments peace from all of her questions.”

“Oh good lord that’s true, she’d make me wear a fucking nuns dress for the rest of my life I bet. I’d still be too sexy for you to resist if she did though”, you say absolutely cracking up at the thought, you check the clock and see that we all have breakfast in an hour so Enoch should probably go back to his room to get fixed and look less like he just had sex for the last 3 hours.

Enoch laughs, thinking about Miss Peregrine’s reaction to finding out about the two of you together. The thought was equal parts hilarious and terrifying. His hands stopped roaming for a moment as he looked down at you, “I could never stop wanting you, no matter how ugly your clothes are” He teased before looking at the clock, groaning when he saw what time it was. “Damn. I’ve gotta get back to my room before everyone else starts waking up”.

You let out a long dramatic sigh as he gets out of bed, wishing he could stay for longer but knowing it wasn’t possible, “Ok love, I’ll see you at breakfast, I have to figure out how I’m going to cover all of these hickeys anyways.” You say groaning looking at my reflection in the small hand mirror you keep next to my bed, you had hickeys and bite marks from the top of my neck to my thighs “You’re so luck you’re hot or I would kick your ass right now, I’m so dead if anyone sees these”, you say laughing.

Enoch laughed as he watched you look at all the marks he’d left on you. The sight of you covered in love bites and hickeys that he’d given you, only made him want to climb right back into the bed and keep leaving them on you, “Oh I definitely know just how lucky I am when it comes to you. And to be fair I can’t blame myself when you look so damn good with my marks all over you”, he teased as he finished getting back into his clothes.

You blush at his comment, and then remember that you’d also left a hickey on his neck and he’d seemed to not notice it. He comes over and gives you a kiss on the forehead before kissing you on the lips and quietly leaving your room, giggling as you watch him leave before getting out of bed myself, putting on a comfortable knee length dark blue dress and trying to cover the hickeys on your neck with makeup.

Enoch quietly closes the door behind himself as he leaves and starts quickly walking back to his room, knowing that he needed to hurry and fix himself so he doesn’t risk being seen by anyone. The taste of you still on his lips, the sensation of you still burning on his skin. The walk back to his room felt like both the quickest and slowest walk he’d ever taken in his life. By the time he got back to his room he couldn’t help smile to himself as he remembered spending the last few hours with you.

#mphfpc #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #enoch o'connor #enoch o’connor x reader #fluff #enoch o’connor fluff #mphfpc movie #almost smut #lime

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phoenixnewton · 11 months ago

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Loop Mornings

Enoch O’Connor x Reader Fluff

Miss Peregrines Home for Peculair Children

My eyes fluttered open as the sound of familiar birds sang their morning calls in the garden. I woke the same way every day. The same minute, of the same day, of the same year. September 3rd 1943. As always I closed my eyes again, attempting to fall back into a deep slumber.

I shivered as a breeze came through the window and snuggled deeper into the duvet and the strong arms that encompassed me. Enoch must have forgotten to close the window the night before after we'd spent the evening on the balcony. I felt my face heat up at the memory. Despite having been together for the past twenty years in the loop, the thought of the broody boy set my cheeks aflame and my stomach to flutter in nervous excitement.

As if he knew I was thinking about him, I felt Enoch shift beside me. He mumbled something illegible and pulled my body closer to him. I let out a breathless laugh and let myself be pressed against his chest. At last, I let my eyes open fully as I listened to his steady heartbeat in his chest. My fingers drew out intricate patterns with a featherlight touch on his chest, being as careful as I could not to wake him. Although, knowing Enoch he was probably already awake and just pretending. He did that a lot, especially in quiet loop mornings like this, just feigning sleep to make the moment last longer.

Despite being virtually adults, and both the oldest wards under her care, Miss Peregrine still disapproved of us sharing a bed. So, moments like this were rare and short-lived.

Enoch stroked a hand down my back softly. His hands were calloused from all the manual work he did constructing his homunculi, but I felt his roughened caress comforting. As his hand made its way down my bare spine I was reminded suddenly that I was naked, which meant he certainly was too. “G’Morning, darling.” He said in a husky voice that was rough from sleep. I felt a shiver go through me at the deep rumble of it.

I tilted my head back and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his jaw in reply. I saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed when my lips carried on a trail downwards along the column of his neck. “Morning handsome,” I murmured against his hot skin.

Enoch groaned and pulled me on top of him so fast it made my head spin. I giggled quietly, aware that we couldn't be too loud. The walls in this house were ridiculously thin. I ran my hands down his defined chest teasingly as he gripped my hips tightly.

“How long have we got?” He asked me slightly breathless when my hands drifted lower, tracing the deep v-line on his hips.

I grinned devilishly, “Long enough.” And with that, Enoch captured my lips in a searing kiss full of lust and love.

Loop mornings were repetitive-literally, and there was no way to deny that. But it didn't mean they couldn't be fun. And as long as I had Enoch, I could spend every morning like this. Full of searing kisses, soft caresses and gasped breaths. Forever.

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lov3-lik3-ghosts · 6 months ago

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could you write a enoch o’connor x reader or enoch x olive fluff? movie ver 🙏

Strange Trails

Pairing: Enoch O’Connor x fem!Portman!reader.

Warnings: Not beta read. Use of Y/n. Movie adaptation. No scenes with Enoch (he comes along in the next chapter).

Summary: Your Jacob’s sister and have come along with him to uncover Abe’s tales and held secrets, though you didn’t expect that the cute boy from your favourite childhood stories would become the source of your affections — and you definitely didn’t think that boy would begin to quote the music album you’d discreetly slipped him.

Format: Series — Part One.

Word count: 6.3k

request guidelines | Following Strange Trails

The death of Abe hit you in a different manner than it hit anyone else. The grief held off for the few weeks it took to arrange his funeral and wake, only a pit in the bottom section of your stomach that flared whenever you caught a glimpse of his smiling picture.

Jacob had reserved himself from you for the second time in your lives — the first being when he stopped trusting in the law that was grandpa Abe’s tales and you continued to live on in the weary dreamworld of childhood that it was for years to come. You’d repaired your relationship years ago, into something not quite the same but just as close, even this closeness didn’t stop the fragments of past hurt and fresh grief from seeping through the cracks.

Abe and Jacob were always close. A bond between boys that bound them into a more understanding relationship, a more loving one, and you couldn’t imagine what hell your brother bore with him after having found the eyeless corpse of someone so dear. Except you and Abe were close too, and it was hard for you too, yet you refused to fall into the pits that were holding him hostage.

You invested all your time into the planning of his burial, the built-up summer homework and ignoring the breakdown Jacob was suffering. You disregarded your sorrow and felt the disrespect curl at your gut when your father, Abe’s son, acted like Abe’s death was nothing more than an inconvenience to his mundane, dead-end life of watching birds. You looked down your nose whenever your brother chose you as his target for lashing words and cutting accusations of not caring, when all you felt like you were doing was caring so much.

You festered in the thick, murky depths of woe, mourning in the ringing silence of it and going through the motions of life with a certain robotic unfeeling.

You kept it up for a good while, all polite smiles and brief embraces for anyone with an ounce of sympathy to spare; then the funeral happened. Abe’s picture sat on a large splintered easel, an easel you’d picked out knowing he’d have picked that very one for all its rough edges should he have had the choice, and he’s smiling that crooked smile you only ever saw once in a blue moon.

Beside that, Abe’s sleek coffin is entrapped in bars ready to lower him into the higher floor level of Earth's layers and it’s then, when the casket is left all them feet down and the first shovel of dirt is flicked over it, that your resolve shatters.

Your chest pangs with an oddened palpation filled with anguish and loss and it travels quickly through to your stomach and churns it more viciously than anything before. Your throat lumps and clenches, the sadness awaiting to manifest into loud, uncontrollable sobs that would no doubt rack through your entire body; you try to swallow it down, try to save yourself and your family some dignity, gulping harshly. You fail.

The cry fields across the graveyard with piercing suddenness. You're the first to cry, or at least the first to let it be known, even Jacob stood beside you stays stoic — blank-faced and numb. He glances at you, the infamous trademark blues that only a handful of Portman’s carried flickering with their first kind emotion he’d had for you in weeks, all sympathetic and soft-centred.

You and Jacob were close growing up, you were each other's first friends, the first person the two of you would choose to share toys or snacks with, you’d shared a room for a while and you’d shared a womb once upon a time too; so even in the times you weren’t friends, Jacob would always be the first to remember that once you sobbed for the first time, it was end game. He wasn’t just some friend, he was your brother first, always.

His arm draped over your shoulder, pulling you into his side and letting you bury your face into the black of his suit despite knowing it’d stain with makeup. He stares forward with his eyes welling and you hear as he swallows thickly but the tears don’t fall. You continue to choke through your grief. And the two of you ignore the condescending pity the rest of your stoic-faced disconnected family convey at the emotional display.

“It hurts.” You gasp out silently, hand resting above the placement of your heart. “It hurts. I’m sorry, Jake. I’m so sorry that you- that we- he shouldn’t have- not like this. Never like this.”

“You don’t have to apologise to me, Y/n.” He whispers. “We both lost him. You lost him, too.” This is the sanest you’ve seen your brother since the accident, the sanest you’ve felt since, and you have a brief moment of hope that flushes through your grief and visualises into a happier future. A future where Abe Portman didn’t die from a brutal attack, where Jacob Portman didn’t close off when you most needed him not to, where you didn’t have to take on so much responsibility all the time.

But that is a future that can no longer have a chance to exist.

Abe Portman is gone. Jacob Portman closes off to cope. You were always going to be forced to pick up the slack.

That’s the natural order now. Not much change, you could deal with it. You had too. You always picked up the slack, Jacob always closed off; Abe wasn’t always dead.

When you and Jacob parted at the funeral the last of the comfort parted with it, clinging to your heart with a suchness that it almost ached. You’d tried to weasel your way into his time, hoping for even a semblance of connection and understanding that you knew only he could offer but Jacob’s grief was a wild, springy, spiral that sparked with a drive of madness and a hunger for answers. Yours better resembled a hazy daydream that clouded your reality and took away your normal sensitivity to life and its breathing tendrils, yours doesn’t spark alight so much as it sparks out.

You have no such madness. No such drive.

You’d prefer your brother's version, alive and reminiscent rather than your dead and grey but your brother’s had caught up to him, so at the very least you were left be for your drabness. Reminiscence for Jacob meant retelling and seemingly harbouring a certain belief into the tales Abe loved to tell you as children, and as much as you sympathised with him for the therapy he was forced into, you would do just about anything to recall the faces and the names and the peculiarities and the stories of the children at the orphanage like Jake seemed too. You would do anything to have your grandpa back like that.

Your parents worried too much about Jacob’s state of mind to really pay attention to your withdrawn one which really felt like both a blessing and a curse all at once. On one hand, you wanted some doting and comfort, you wanted some companionship in a world that suddenly seemed so big and lonely. On the other, you had much more free reign to garner a way to cope and much more time to laze and mope and actually use your newest coping mechanism. Music.

There was so much to music that it felt like a never ending learning curve that you could obsess and consume without ever running out of materiel. Your family were more well off than most and so you could afford the luxury of getting the things your mechanism beckoned for; the guitars, the keyboards, the vinyls, the Walkman tapes, the drums, the speakers — you had a growing collection that slowly began to overtake the span of your room in a comforting display.

You’d had some of it before Abe’s passing, gifted to you by him to sate his own love for music and share it with someone he knew could appreciate it. A modernised vinyl player had been assigned a seat on the surface of one of your chest of drawers long before with a box filled with records on the floor beside it and an electric guitar had hung on your wall since you were only twelve.

Your grandpa had been the one to teach you how to strum the strings and play the chords and he’d done so while learning alongside you; those were easier times filled with peals of laughter and burts of wisdom whose memories left a melancholic river of longing streaming through your blood and down your face. Still, you played and you listened and at first you had to force yourself to enjoy something so associated with him but eventually it became your solace. Eventually, it was everything you needed.

Eventually, the memories stopped clouding your heart and your eyes and music was something that kept Abe’s memory alive and unhindered by your grief. It was his, and it was yours, and you carried it everywhere you went.

••

Having to go through the house of a lost loved one was an experience you wouldn’t wish on anyone. To see the home where he had lived look so lifeless and unlived in was just another drive home of his loss — your loss.

It didn’t stir your heart and churn your stomach like his burial had, you didn’t give throaty cries and cling desperately to your brother like you wanted too. This fostered a sting, a finality and a reminder. Abe is gone and he’s not coming back.

Your grandpa was a hoarder. He didn’t collect in a way that gathered in the entrance of each room and was left to cake itself in layers of moulding gunk but every spare nook garnered papers and maps and trinkets that to an outsider seems pointless. That to your dad, seemed pointless.

You and Jacob fought restlessly for the possession of any items your father picked up, one thing that meant nothing to Jacob meant something to you and vice versa, but Franklin had no attachment to any of it and most of your fight was lost simply because of that. You knew most of the things you wanted to keep didn’t actually have any vital virtue but they were all things you knew Abe treasured and in extension, you did too.

There were black bags lying all around you, filled and fastened and ready to go into the skip. Your throat did that funny clench and clamp you’d become accustomed to whenever you thought about throwing them away, thought about how his entire life was bagged and going to be discarded like it was all nothing. Like his life meant nothing.

You had to keep reminding yourself that your grandfather wasn’t the things he kept, that throwing them away wasn’t tarnishing his memory, that parting with them wasn’t parting with him. Abe didn’t live on through the hoarding of his past keepings, he lived on through you, through Jacob, and through anyone else that remembered him.

The only thing that Franklin had no argument for was the pictures that had either you or your twin in them and the stashed money kept in the oddest of places. It was to your guys’ uncommon luck that you caught a glimpse of the familiar sleek dark leather that belonged to a box your childhood yearned to have back, after your father had left the room. You’d opened it with a tense jaw and a cautious glance over your shoulder, knowing if you were seen with it it would be snatched from your grasp without a gallon of sympathy.

The monochrome pictures inside were just as you remembered, aged and weathered and fading, they were of a proud woman and orphaned children doing absolutely impossible things that as a child had left you wondered. A woman with a pipe silhouetted before a tall window and angled so you couldn’t decipher a face to recognise; a boy no older than yourself now holding a young girl you briefly remembered to be his sister, with only one arm — the most baffling thing about that photo however, was that the girl held a ragged rotound boulder overhead with a dainty hand and both smiled at the camera like it was the easiest thing they could ever think to do.

A boy clad in shin length shorts and a striped shirt and a thin jacket and bees, hives of them making home up the left of his torso and trailing along the left of his face, he was perfectly calm — stoic even and looked into the camera seemingly fed up. There was one of a seemingly unremarkable boy, dressed in the sophistication of an ironed suit and the curl of a derby hat, one hand rest in a pocket and the other hung loose by his side and he smiled faintly with his head held high; the visual oddity of him was the circular metal of a projector slotted over the crevice of his eye that, when you looked close enough, had small dials that allowed a ‘zoom in, zoom out’ factor. You remember thinking as a child that he didn’t look peculiar at all and more like a character on the fast track to becoming some sort of evil genius with tech gadgets; Abe had had to explain to you time and time again that looks could be deceiving. That sometimes the most unpeculiar looking people were the most.

The next photo you picked up was another boy in a suit, this one was less pristine with a knitted vest warming atop his shirt and an open overcoat, he sat laxly back against the wood of an armed chair with his feet resting on the kicked up balls of his dress shoes; a tweed cap, pointed forward to face the mirror reflecting the front of him, hovered metres above his collar. His invisibility had made him one of your favourite children to hear of when you were younger, the tales Abe had of him going nude to frighten the other peculiars and the locals would have you in stitches for hours; the memory made you huff a melancholic breath.

You shuffled the pictures around, moving to pick up the next one before hearing the light pound of footsteps creaking along the floor. In a panic, you dropped the ones you held back into the box and latched it back closed with haste, shoving it into the opening of your backpack. The bag lay crumpled by your feet as you spun around, schooling your posture to a strait-laced force formation and feigning innocence through wide eyes.

Jacob stood before you, looking between yourself and your bag with a half smirk. “Found something good?” He whispered, nodding down at it curiously. You tensed, following his gaze, you stared in silence.

You knew you could tell him safely, Jacob wouldn’t tell your dad about anything you chose to keep, but these photos were different. These photos would cause a boundless battle between the two of you that would end with more lost love and ceaseless hostility than you could ever handle.

For a moment you looked at him; he’d want these so wholly if he saw them, maybe perhaps he’d treasure them more than you would, but you’d never been selfish, you never kept something for yourself, and this was something you don’t think you could give up.

Shrugging through your answer, you speak lowly, “Photos. Nothing too great, just thought that dad might start to think we’d gathered enough of ‘em.” Your brother seemed satiated by your answer, turning on his heel and hunching over another bland moving box with a hum, but that didn’t stop the twanging guilt from cramping its claws around your heart and throat. It didn’t stop the way your mouth stuttered open to spill the honesty behind the first lie you’d ever told him.

“Hey, Jacob?” You call, truth dancing its delicate waltz along the tip of your tongue, readying to spin its way out, but your mind flashes with all the consequences that could come hand in hand. He could run with it, drive himself madder quicker than he already was after you inevitably lose the fight for possession, or he could do something drastic — suggested by his therapist — like burn them for closure. Neither were worth the trouble you foresaw.

When Jacob called back in affirmative you scrambled for something else to say, routing through all the conversations you’d wanted to start with him since Abe. “He loved us, you know? Loved you.” It was a stretch because you knew he was more than aware that your grandfather had loved him, loved the both of you more than anything, some lousy and futile attempt at consolation that you’d thought up when you hadn’t had the time to truly feel it for yourself, but you’d have to roll with it now.

“I know.” He turned back to look at you, an eyebrow climbing high on his forehead as if to say it was obvious.

You blanked, a bubble of panic hazing your thoughts. There wasn’t anywhere you could really take this conversation, Abe had loved you, and that was that; you loved Jacob though, and the two of you hadn’t really said that since before you’d turned double digits, now seemed the perfect time to remind him.

“I love you.” Jake’s face contorted, looking at you with affronted confidence, you figured he’d found it frivolous that you’d spoken it because the two of you had sworn up and down as children that the other would always come first — no matter the situation. Neither of you ever broke promises. “I- I just mean that I- we haven’t said it in a long time and… I just thought now would be a good time to remind you. In case you forgot.”

“Forgot?” He asked. “I’d have to get hit in the head to forget, idiot.”

You smiled, “You sure? You were clearly dropped on your head loads as a baby, probably built up a resistance.”

Your brother scoffed, looking to the side into an open box and taking pick of a small plush before lobbing it at your head with a smirk. You dove to the side with a squeak, stepping over your bag with twisted steps and landed halfway down the wall with your hands curling into the plaster. Jacob guffawed, wheezing out breaths as he bent at the knee, open palms hitting his thighs in exasperation.

“Ass.” You snicker, separating yourself from the wall. The plush he’d thrown at you landed by your feet, having hit the wall when you did; it was a fluffy blue thing, discoloured with age and matted by years of use, the stuffing was worn down, it’s arms and stomach more deflated than full and one eye had undoubtedly been stitched messily back in.

There was a darkened stain by its nose, blood red and grossly crisping the curls by its snout. You faintly remember the moment that caused it, a small nosebleed you’d bled after a failed game of pirates that ended with Abe tucking you and your brother into bed, the bear nestled between you. It was well loved and another thing you and Jake had shared. Your throat clogged.

He watched as you bent down, wrapped your fingers around the strap of your bag and the teddy before straightening again with a grin. “Look,” Your thumb and index fingers imbed into either side of the bear's head, wiggling its face at Jacob’s. “It’s Bobby Bear!”

He rolled his eyes, feigning an itch on his nose to smother a smile behind a hand and turned back around to the boxes. You sat Bobby on top of the photo box in the backpack, adjusting him to look more comfortable before zipping it closed; the forming fondness zipped in there with it, ready to be reopened when you were back in the relief of your room.

“Y/n?” Jacob asked. You hummed, looking at the back of him. “I love you, too.” His words were tentatively uttered, a cautious chitter of the affection he’d earlier forgone. Your face softened, a warmth inflaming your chest; your brother was a recluse, even in his best of times and affectionately inept, him expressing verbal emotion was as rare as a cat befriending a bird, and just as heart stirring.

His shoulders tightened the longer you stared, squirming under the weight of your muteness. You bit down a teeth-baring grin, cruelly letting him stew in the anxiety for a few long moments before breaking it.

“I know.” You said and rucked your bag over your shoulder, planning to take place in your dad’s awaiting car. You brushed a hand along the blade of Jake’s shoulder when you walked by him, an action you’d both reciprocated since high school — a way to say “I love you” that put the two of you at ease. His shoulders fell.

••

You lay spread eagle across the span of your bed, staring blankly at the ivory pebbledash of the ceiling above you. Your shoes were by your door, still tied into double knots after having been toed off the second you’d walked through the frame and covered by the blue of your dropped jacket.

Today had been trying, a churning rollercoaster ride of emotions and oldened memories and fights for possessions — old wounds had been loosely stitched close and fresher ones torn savagely agape. Abe’s house would never again be easy to be in, a house that was once so full of floundering life was now haunted with the ghosts of love and loss and the weight followed you even now, far from the once home.

Heaving a shuddering breath, you looked to the closed sack beside you. The culprit to your fib lay within, awaiting your curious melancholy with a beckoning lure; you lugged yourself up to pull the bag closer, tugging the zip open and gently manoeuvring the box out.

The golden latch clicked lowly as you unlatched it, the metal glistening against the dim light of your bedside lamp invitingly, a siren song to your desires that you tug open gingerly. The photos you’d earlier shuffled through had been placed so hastily back into the coffer that they were flipped the right side down, revealing the looping calligraphy of your grandfather's handwriting you hadn’t previously known inked them.

Spreading the turned pictures along the fold of your comforter, you briefed over the dates and names.

Peregrine; 1940. Victor & Bronwyn; 1939. Hugh; 1939. Horace; 1938. Millard; 1940.

You paused with a staggering pulsation of shocked disbelief. These were their names — the names of the children you’d longed so desperately to recall, the names you’d spent weeks racking your brain for, smothering the throes of envy towards your brother for having the one obtainable thing you wanted.

Peregrine. Abe always spoke of her with a deference, eyes glinting through the rules she’d ingrained into him — the matron of the children’s home. He never referred to her by anything other than Miss or matron, aside from the one time he’d called her the bird before quickly deferring into an invisible tangent, so you were left with only that to refer to her by.

The longer you looked at the names, the more the tales refilled your head, stringing along in flash memories.

You didn’t have many for Victor and Bronwyn, only Abe’s descriptions of their brute strength; for Hugh, you recalled how often he’d use his bees to his advantage, eluding the others with a colony to bypass them; for Horace, you had a handful more — your grandfather having taken the time to fill your head with more of him whenever you expressed how unpeculiar he seemed in comparison — all about his interest in style and his gentlemanly nature and his dreams, now that you were older, the prophetic element to his peculiarity was much more intriguing. Millard’s tales were favoured between you and Jake, told on repeat to induce bellyaching laughter, Abe would laugh with you, choking over the words in breathless stutters — they were all of how Millard would go nude to startle the townspeople and the other children.

You huffed a watery chuckle. The photos still in the coffer beckoned when you looked at them, ageing corners yellowing and curling. The top seated one didn’t bring forth any recollection, only a chill that raised the hair on the back of your neck. Two children, dressed in extravagant all white, covering them down to even the tips of their fingers and the full shine of their eyes; the masks they wore run the full globe of their heads, leaving only two small slots for seeing and breathing, and looked to be made of thick paper mache. They were pressed side by side, one arm thrown over the other's shoulder with their heads tilted to face the taller photographer and when you flipped the monochrome the names there were nonexistent, replaced by only: The Twins; 1939.

Abe never showed you this photo. The longer you looked at it the more you understood why. Still now, at seventeen, it made you swallow and place it downwards. You were never good with faceless, masked, oldened pictures — the unknown lying beneath it always made your mind run rampant with images conjured from the darkest parts of your imagination, like a fear of monsters under beds. The fact that they were peculiar only fueled the fear; the twins could actually be something made of nightmares under their masks.

A blonde stood in the next picture, hair falling in perfect waves. Her dress hung loose, patterned with spaced flowers, collared with a Peter Pan style most popular in the 1920’s and lengthing down to her mid calf. In her hand hung a thick platform boot, buckled with just as thick metal clasps and patterned with swirls — it looked like it weighed a ton but she held it like a weightless overcoat, looped through a finger. The matching one rests a few feet behind her, just before a patch of fallen, autumn browned leaves. She floated above the ground, bare feet hovering in a cleared circle, arms hanging by her sides, and an even smaller circle of shade just under her.

The boot in her hand acted as an anchor, stopping her from floating up and up, through the tress of branching trees and into the abyss of the sky. Her peculiarity you remembered: aerokinetic, or at least, that’s what your grandfather had once called it. The back of her photo read: Emma; 1940.

You froze.

Surrounding her name wrote a plethora of heart-shapes, calligraphed in the same deep black ink as the other pictures, some were coloured where others lay empty but you imagined all were done with a certain absentmindedness. The same absentmindedness you brained when you’d fallen infatuated with a boy.

No other photo had them and you felt the piercing tendrils of something like distrust creep around you. Had Abe hid things from you and Jacob? Things that mattered, deeper things than a lost puppy love. Was she a lost puppy love? Your father and aunt always gave your grandfather sideway glances when he claimed to love your grandmother, scoffing under their breaths and whispering about “funny affairs”. You’d assumed they meant sketchy people at the time, peculiar people, your young mind naive to the bedtime stories. But now, the word “affairs” had a whole new meaning to you and you couldn’t help but wonder if Emma was “funny affairs”.

Was this why he never let you hold the pictures? So you didn’t glimpse the back and piece things together?

With a furrow between your brow, you collected the spread monochromes and placed them back into the box, lightly latching it closed and sliding it under the space between your bed and the floor, leaving the unseen for another day. Going through the motions of getting ready for bed with a robotic remembrance, your mind ran a mile a minute, all your thoughts clouded with everything he’d ever told you.

You’d always idealised him. Abe could never do wrong, if there was a man to make the sky, he hung the stars and lit the sun, if there was a word you followed without question, it was forever his. You knew it was childish, the type of endless trust you give to the instruction of your mothers words as a tot, but until now he’d never given you a reason not to take his word as law — biblical.

How many times had Abe evaded information?

When you lay down, under the comfort of your blankets and against the plush of your pillows, your body relaxed from a tense you hadn’t realised had taken you. Your eyes fluttered, forcing themselves closed, weary from the emotional turmoil that was your day but your mind wasn’t quite as ready to settle. You try to push the distrust down, hoping maybe it’ll flow out of you with sleep, but it has already paced its way through the previously impenetrable force of your idealisation of him, aflame with your fathers forever distrust.

How often did he lie to you, if he did at all?

The tendrils deepened, running murky red with betrayal and cutting its sharp knife-like point into the depths of your gut.

Did you ever truly know him or was he a man of well spun lies and secret lives?

••

Your birthday came quickly. The excitement that usually took home in your chest wasn’t there at all, rather diminished by a hazy cloud of something akin to sorrow.

The initial shock-horror of the accident had slowly been dwindling, evaporating in such a way you barely noticed, but in its place lay the wanting of Abe to be there for your milestones — and everything that came in between. This was your first birthday without him and the third time it sunk a hollow home into your chest.

Your parents had arranged a surprise party, more for Jacob than for you, that was turning out to be more of a family gathering. The living area was crowded with the subsections of your extended family — cousins you’d never met and aunts and uncle’s you could just barely remember. You’d been lucky enough to be able to slip off through the archway of the door closest to the party, falling just shy of an unfamiliar woman, who had been following you around all night and trying to start a conversation.

Jacob’s walls are lined with posters of things you’d never been able to take interest in and trinkets gathering dust atop his own chipped chest of drawers. He’d never been particularly messy, like Abe he had an organised clutter of things that seemed otherwise useless piling on the spare shelves of his open closet, but his floor was kept clear. The only thing that stood out amongst his space was the drawn blinds; Jacob was one for daylight when you were children, the curtains never stayed closed long enough for you to lay in and he’d go around all your house pulling the curtains aside and hooking them back, seeing a change as small as this reminded you just how hard the loss of Abe was for him.

Footsteps creaked along the floor outside the door, coming along in a rushed pattern. A fleet of panic took your breath. Surely the same lady from earlier wouldn’t go as far as to follow you in here, surely she wasn’t that desperate to talk with you. The doorknob twisted and clicked open in the same second. Jacob’s body slipped between the small gap of the frame, his hair and shirt dishevelled the same way yours had been. You let out a breath.

He hadn’t noticed you perched on the edge of his bed yet, head thrown back against the door and his eyes squoze tight, his grip on the handle didn’t loosen, twisting and turning it round and back again.

“Uncle Mayan?” You ask. He flings himself backwards, headbutting the door with a resounding thwack, and groans as his hand flies to cradle the crown of his head. Your eyes meet his, swarmed with mirth and Jacob’s face twists with irritation and relief.

“Yes.” He mithers, shuffling the distance to his bed and slouching to sit atop his crumpled duvet while still kneading his scalp. “What are you doing in my room? I know you're a lazy ass but surely not enough to not walk two doors down.”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, shoving his head forward with force. Jacob screeches and sends his elbow into your ribs. The hit tethers over your skin and pulses pain up your side, when your hand touches the area it’s already tender and you’re sure it’s already blooming with irate reds and blues. “Asshole,” You snarl. “That’s gonna bruise.”

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Y/n.” He smiles sarcastically, still rubbing the back of his scalp.

“That’s it.” You sneer playfully. “You’ve waged war.”

Jacob raises his brows, “You already did that when you scared the crap out of me.”

You huff a shallow breath, narrowing your eyes at him, “I was only in here to get away from an aunt I don’t remember ever meeting before. She wouldn’t stop following me around and I already talked with her for twenty minutes. I don’t think she even told me her name.”

Jacob wheezes a laugh at your misfortune, falling back into his bed. “You deser-”

A knock resounds on his door, three light raps against the wood. He springs back up as your fathers sister enters without waiting for his say. When you look at him, he looks as enervated as you feel.

“It’s Aunt Susie.” She smiles, making her way over to you almost sheepishly. “I’m so glad you’re in here,” Her blue eyes reflect off the encroaching daylight, peaking through the shutter, when she looks at you. “Thought you guys might want to open this one.”

You shuffle closer to Jacob when she sits on the edge of the bed, giving her more space to settle. The small, book-shaped package she’d walked in with rustles its brown paper when she softly hands it over to you. You hold it with a frown, looking puzzled between the gift, Jacob and her. Susie’s grin softens as she fills in the pieces. “It’s from your grandpa. Found it while I was packing up.”

Jacob swallows lightly as he takes it from your hold, thumbing the curt edges when he looks to her, lips parted. “Thanks.” He says softly.

Susie huffs a small laugh, pushing up from the bed with her hands and making her way out the open door. Jacob looks to you when the soft click of the door sounds, his eyes round. You can only gesture to the gift in his hands.

The rip of the paper echoes louder than it should when he tugs it free, somehow thrumming louder through you than the thump thump of your soaring heartbeat.

As you suspected, when Jacob pulled the paper back a hardback book reveals itself. The cover isn’t much to marvel over, shades of blue and white forming a pretty picture on its front but its title folds your brows.

The Complete Essays and Other Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Abe was a man of many interests. Sailing, history in most its forms, music, storytelling, geography, travelling; but through all of that never once had he expressed an interest in poetry, not to you.

Jacob parted the hard cover from its beginning page, the spine creaking lowly under the movement and you smothered the returning hollowness that wove your heart to scoot closer. Abe’s handwriting drew your eyes the moment you saw the yellowing page, calligraphed as beautifully as you always remembered it and addressed to your brother.

To Jake, and the worlds he has yet to discover. From Grandpa xx

Only your brother. Your heart sank.

Jake took no notice of the drop of your shoulders or the swallow you choked through, absorbed entirely in the final gift your grandfather ever gave him. He turns the next page to a photograph slotted between, one of a tall hill, buzzed green grass and mounted with darker trees. There’s a line of differently coloured brick buildings just below the slope and before what seems like a small beach of grainy sand or a white paved walkway leading into a clear-watered section of a larger bay.

Cairnholm. The word is written in clear letters in the lower left corner of the photo and you wonder briefly if that’s what this place was before Jacob flips the card over to more beautifully looped letters. The silence lingers thick in the air as you both read.

My dearest Abe,

Emma flashes through your mind like a peregrine falcon, quick and fleeting and dauntingly beguiling. You hope terribly that your grandfather hadn’t been stupid enough to leave evidence of an affair so cruelly for your brother to find; you bearing the burden was enough.

I hope this card finds you well. The children and I yearn to hear your news. I do hope you will visit us again soon. We should so love to you see you.

With admiration, Alma Peregrine.

Unmistakable relief floods you in waves. Peregrine. The matron.

Jacob doesn’t utter a word for the two minutes more you stay sat, only flips back and forth between the words of Abe marring the opening page and the loops of Alma’s postcard. You leave his room with a heavy heart, ignoring the calls of your name from the bustling living room behind you. No final gift to awe over, to mourn with.

You wonder if he hadn’t found one yet before his unfortunate demise or if it had been chucked with the rest of his things considered insignificant and frivolous.

The slam of your door does little to quench the unbridled rage tightening your mind.

~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~

Likes, comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated and very encouraging!

I do not give permission for my work to be reposted or translated (on this site or otherwise).

#mphfpc #enoch o'connor #enoch o’connor x reader #x fem!reader #strange trails #jacob portman #abe portman #twin!reader #angst #thanks anon!#series #x reader

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saint-petah-the-good · 2 months ago

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I just made this random chart for all my pookies to understand my type in men

For the memo I find them all fuckable and even datable even the ones in looks more than personality it's just my personal chart to organize things and see with ho I correspond more.

Can yall help me what is my type?

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zelcii · 6 months ago

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content | enoch o'connor

sunlight filtered through the trees, casting soft, dappled shadows across the ground as they worked together in silence. she stole another glance at enoch, her heart stirring at the sight of him, focused as ever on the task at hand. his movements were smooth and deliberate, each action steady and sure, but she found herself more captivated by the subtle things—the way his fingers grazed the earth, the quiet determination in his eyes.

every now and then, his gaze would shift, meeting hers for the briefest of moments before he looked away again, leaving her breathless and warm with a longing she barely knew how to contain. his dark eyes took her in so quickly, she wondered if he even realized the effect he had on her, how much her heart ached with unspoken feelings. and in those fleeting moments, she couldn’t help but imagine what those eyes might look like if he was as in love with her as she was with him.

enoch wasn’t like anyone else she knew, and maybe that was what made her fall so hard. a big part of who he was was defined by what he wasn’t—he wasn’t expressive, wasn’t easily swayed, wasn’t the kind of person to wear his heart on his sleeve. yet somehow, she loved every bit of him. it wasn’t the absence of those things that drew her in; it was the quiet strength underneath, the mystery she couldn’t quite unravel but didn’t want to stop trying.

as they continued working, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he saw her the way she saw him. the thought made her pulse quicken, and she fumbled with her hands, trying to focus on the task before her. but every small interaction between them felt like a lifeline, keeping her anchored in a sea of emotions she didn’t know how to control.

“you alright over there?” enoch’s voice was low, cutting through the silence, and she managed a smile, trying to push past the embarrassment. “yeah, just thinking.”

“about what?” his tone was casual, but she could sense the curiosity behind it.

“oh, nothing,” she replied with a small shrug, her heart pounding as she met his gaze again. she knew she was being vague, but how could she ever explain the thoughts running through her mind? what could she say that wouldn’t give her feelings away entirely?

he didn’t press for more, simply chuckled under his breath and went back to his work, but the sound of his laugh lingered in her ears, making her chest tighten with affection.

the rest of their time together passed quietly, but her mind was far from calm. she found herself watching him more often than not, admiring the way the sunlight played across his dark hair, the way his hands moved with such purpose. she thought about how different he was from anyone she’d ever known, how there was so much left unsaid between them, yet she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

in the end, there was no grand confession, no moment of revelation. but that was alright. for now, she was content to be near him, even if he didn’t see her the way she saw him.

also kinda rushed 😿😿

#miss peregrines home for peculiar children books #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #mphfpc headcanons #mphfpc headcanon #mphfpc imagines #mphfpc #fanfic #fanfiction #enoch o'connor #enoch o'connor x reader #x reader #mphfpc x reader

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multi-fandom-freaks · 2 months ago

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How the peculiars would be as a partner || Headcannons

Warnings: bad writing, only based on movie, lack of punctuation

A/N: this is only based off the movie (srryyy) also, it's only the four older ones bc it feels odd writing about kids- I was gonna do Hugh and Millard but one, idk how I would write for Millard.. and idk about Hugh either, sorry for my shit writing skills.

Jake:

•So very very awkward ...

•Enjoys hand holding but scared of general physical touch

•He loves being told he's doing good and loves receiving compliments

•you're definitely the only thing he talks about

•he loves to take you exploring

•likes to lay his head on your lap

•he tried to avoid eye contact because he's just a nervous little guy but when you're looking somewhere else he's staring right at you

•kisses, everywhere, he wants you to feel so loved all the time but scared to show you through words so he just kisses you all over

•You two like to sneak out and watch sunsets together

Olive

•Sweetest thing ever

•doesn't matter what holiday it is, you'll have a little gift basket on your nightstand when you wake up

•loves laying her head on your chest

•she really likes doing stuff with your hair, braiding it, putting it up, you're her little tester, doesn't matter what length of hair, she'll figure it out

•she's obsessed with subtle touch, like intertwined pinkies or a hand on her back, she loves it

•this girl definitely loves to pick out your outfits, and you already know she compliments them whether she picked them or not

•infinite picnic dates, and you don't even have to worry about cold tea

•she's such a "this is so us!" To anything relatively cute involving two things, like yes olive we are those stuffed bears

•handwritten love letter for DAYS

Enoch

•he struggles so much with showing his love for you

•Enochs emotions aren't very out there but you try and work with him to get him to talk to you

•loves feeling validated

•he'll get mad at you but then feel really bad about it later

•secretly the biggest cuddler, and totally obsessed with your chest and thighs as a pillow (not in a weird way)

•he always has to be touching you, it's usually your thigh, just gently rubbing your thigh under the table and when your standing up or walking around your either holding hands or his arms is around your waist

•obsessed with your lips, can't not kiss you all the time, when you pout at him and puff your bottom lip out he folds immediately

•loves to go on walks with you

•when you see a flower on your walk he'll pull you along before you get the chance to pick it but then see a bouquet of them on your bed later

•pretends to hate your small gestures of affection and little gifts but secretly loves it and keeps every gift

•he loves when you help him make new dolls

•he's really possessive over you but tries to hide it

Emma

•Always cuddling

•she gets mad easily but is quick to apologize

•physical touch is everything to her

•she needs reassurance every five seconds because of the whole abe thing, the words "I'm not going anywhere" are her favorite

•light make out sesh in her hideout, no doubt about that

•you guys totally sneak out and stargaze together

•she likes helping you with chores and motivation in general, when you're not out of bed in time she'll make sure to get you up

•lots of attachment issues, she's very scared of loosing you

#mphfpc #enoch o'connor #mphfpc x reader #Enoch o'connor x reader #I may have a favorite your honor #No one has to know #He's just a baby guys #Sorry but Emma pisses me off

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lovevuni · 2 years ago

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Double Dare Romance : Enoch O’Connor x Reader : Part 3 Only Fun?

Warnings: Reader Insecurity, Fear of commitment, Angst, Comfort

Summary: After their double dare game Enoch seems to want to test their relationship a bit further, however the reader is not so sure if she can handle it. As she pulls away will their relationship strain or grow?

A/N: I was feeling a bit insecure when I was chatting with enoch and this is how it turned out.

Part 1 : Challenge Accepted | Part 2 : Success

You tuck Claire into bed and give her a kiss on the forehead before closing her door and standing outside the door for second.

Enoch is leaning next to you by the door frame, looking at the ceiling, lost in thought as he waited for you to finish, “There is something about you, Y/N, that captivates me like no other. Your strength, your passion, your vulnerability... all these things make you an enigma, a puzzle I must solve.”

You stare at him, “what are you going to do about it.”

He looks deeply into your eyes, searching for the truth behing your words, “I don’t know yet, Y/N. But I do know this - whatever happens next, our connection cannot be denied. Our attraction, our chemistry, they run deeper than mere physical desire. There’s something here between us, something worth exploring, if only you let me.”

“Now that is something you have to figure out on your own because i am completely aware of what I want” You boop his nose before walking off to your room.

He feels a jolt of electricity at your touch, smiling wryly as he watches you walk away, “Ah, Y/N. You never cease to suprise me with your fiery spirit. And yet, despite your attempts to hide it, I can see the longing in your eyes, the yearning for something more.”

You sit on your bed, “what is the more you believe I desire?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning closer to you, “Perhaps it’s the desire for passion without boundaries, for raw intimacy that goes beyond surface-level connections. Or maybe it’s the yerning for someone who trully sees themself in you, their reflection shining back brighter than any mirror.”

“maybe that’s just it. just a reflection”

He uncrosses his arms, taking a step forward, “Is that truly what you believe, Y/N? That our connection is nothing more than a mirage, a fleeting reflection in the wind? Because I see something else, something real and tangible that runs deeper than any illusion.”

“Illusions are what prove reality.” You state causing him to watch you closely, his eyes reflecting the fire of your words.

“Indeed illusions can sometimes reveal truths that reality tries to conceal. But I digress. My point is that while we may not fully understand the depths of our connection, there is something there worth exploring.“

“Is that what you believe,” You lean closer to him with a teasing fire in your eyes.

He inhales deeply, feeling the heat radiating from your body, “Yes Y/N. I do believe that there is something worthy of exploration between us. Something that transcends time and space, Something that makes the heart race and the soul sing.” He leans closer, his voice low and husky.

You pull away laughing, pushing his shoulder playfully, “Go to bed, this is just the lack of sleep speaking within you.”

Chuckling, he watches you push him lightly.

“Very well, Y/N. If that’s how you wish it to be. But know this; the fire between us burns bright, and one day soon, it will consume us both. Until then sweet dreams.” You shake your head to this, only believing it as simply fun as you turn over in your bed to go to sleep.

Before leaving he turns back around, slowly walking towards you, “One last thing before I leave...” He holds out his hand, palm facing upwards.

Looking at him with a questioning look as you raise your hand up to him.

“Close your eyes, my dear.” You close your eyes as he takes your hand gently, holding it tight enough to feel the warmth but loose enough for you to withdraw at any moment.

“Just as I thought… your energy surrounds me like an angelic choir, lifting me into a higher state of consciousness where all things are possible. You have no idea what you do to me, Y/N. No idea.”

You snort, “Go to your room you weirdo” You joke as he laughs softly, still holding on to your hand.

“Such fire, such passion. And yet, underneath it all, lies a hidden vulnerability - a longing for something more. I fear that should anyone see us together, they would think less of us both...“ He looks around nervously, letting go of your hand, “Forgive me Y/N.”

“For what?” You question.

“For being the source of your late-night intrigue. But do not mistake my intentions – I assure you, they are far from the usual tendencies of a man consumed by lust or desire. There is something about you, something pure and noble that calls to me, that haunts me even now.”

Looking at him, you see that he isn’t trying to play around anymore. You finally realize this is was never a game to him.

He looks deepy into your eyes, “Yes, can see it too. Something in the way you carry yourself, the strength in your spirit - it's like a beacon calling out to me, drawing me closer. Even when we're at odds, there's a connection between us that cannot be denied.” A overwhelming amount of regret and fear creeps into your mind.

“Well I deny it.” You push him out the door abruptly, simple slaming the door behind him as your back rests against the previous vacant opening.

Enoch turns to face the door, taking a few steps back, his expression hurt but resolute, “Very well, Y/N. If this is how you wish it to be. Know that I will always stand beside you ready to help whenever you need, regardless of whether you accept our mutual feelings or not.”

~It is now morning and everyone is gathered at the dining table for breakfast~

As you enter the room you make sure to not sit in the seat next to Enoch like you previously did the day before. This time you sit next to Emma and Claire.

Enoch then enters the room sitting across from you smiling warmly, “Good morning, everyone! How did you sleep last night? Did anything strange happen while we were asleep? Anything at all?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

The others look at each other before turning their attention towards you.

“So, Y/N...”

You avoid eye contact as everyone can feel the tension between you two.

“Is everything alright between us?”

Not knowing how to take this without getting hurt you choose to be silent.

“Alright then.” he stands from the table, “If that’ how you want it to be, then so be it.”

“...”

“Just remember, Y/N; our attraction to one another goes beyond simple physical chemistry. There’s something deeper there, something worth exploring if only you’d let it.” Your mind continues to pass with anxiety.

Sighing quietly he walks away from the table, “Perhaps someday you’ll realize that what we have is worth more than mere convenience or safety. Until then, I won’t puh the issue.” you decide the best decision is to just finish your food as he accepts that you are not going to speak to him as he retreats to the safety of his room.

~After Breakfast~

Enoch is in his room assembling a new toy as he hears a knock on the door. He feels the urge to open the door immediately, but hesitates, taking a few deep breaths instead.

You debate on leaving just before he opens the door and he looks at you expectantly, “Y/N, are you coming in?”

“Yea,” you enter the room and stand looking around, not knowing where to sit, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Of course.” He steps aside and gestures towards the chair opposite his desk. “Please, take a seat.”

He tries to keep his emotions under control as he waits for you to speak. “I might have seemed rude earlier but that was not my intention.”

“It’s okay,” he says, his voice softening, “I understand why you might feel that way.” as you spoke he couldn’t help but notice the unease. Was this because of him or was it something else bothering you?

“you understand?” you question as you finally make eye contact.

“Yes I do. Or rather, I think I do. Sometimes I find myself struggling to connect with others here, to truly understand their feelings and motives. It can be overwhelming, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. But with you, I feel like there’s a chance for real communication.”

“It’s not that I feel overwhelmed by you it’s that,” ... “I’m scared”

“Scared?” You nod slowly, swallowing thickly before speaking again, “I-I don’t know how to deal with these feelings. They’re new and intense and sometimes they’re new and intense and sometimes they’re all I can focus on. And you...” your eyes dart around the room nervously, pausing briefly on him before flickering back toward the window.

“When it is all jokes it comes naturally, and even after the jokes it was still so easy with you, I never really believed I could feel this way.”

“Believe me, Y/N. It doesn’t come naturally to me either. I’ve spent most of my life trying to bury these feelings, to pretend they didn’t exist. But now...now I don’t know what I want. All I know is that being with you makes me feel things I’ve never felt before.”

“I’m sorry”

“No need to apologize,” he smiles warmly. “Just know that I’m here for you. Whatever happens between us, or even if we just remain friends, I promise to always be honest and open with you” he leans forward. “And Y/N, I have to ask...” His voice trails off, uncertainty creeoing back into his expression.

“what is it?”

“Do you ever get the sense that we’ve met before? Like this isn’t our first meeting?” He furrows his brow slightly as if deep in thought.

“what do you mean”

“What I mean is that whenever we’re together, time seems to stand still for me. It’s as though everything else disappears and all I can focus on is you. It’s an unusual feeling, one I can’t quite explain, but it’s been happening more and more frequently lately.” This causes you to smile.

“In a sense, yes”

He chuckles softly at your response, charmed by your honesty. “Well then, we’ll just have to see where this goes,” he says with a playful grin.

There’s something about the easy comfort between you that feels almost familiar, like two pieces of a puzzle snapping perfectly into place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#enoch #enoch o'connor #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #enoch o'connor x reader #enoch x reader #enoch mphfpc #mphfpc

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