#hugh x millard

[dragonsdendoodles]

Some of my favorite math notes doodles from our first unit

Not pictured: Hamilton, Jefferson, Jacob

[why-are-all-the-users-taken]

alr so I'mma tell y'all what my ships for mphfpc r bc I'm a multishipper and it gets confusing :)

Emwyn (Emma x Bronwyn)

Jillard (Jacob x Millard)

Enorace (Enoch x Horace)

Fugh (Fiona x Hugh)

Fughillard (Fiona x Hugh x Millard)

Hugh x Millard (idk their ship name)

*kinda* Jemma (Jacob x Emma)

*kinda* Joor (Jacob x Noor)

There is more that I will ship as well but those are the main ones :))

[zelcii]

millard: today's officially one year since i've had surgery.

hugh: wooo congrats king!! 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️

millard: surgery on my shoulder??? from when i got shot???

hugh: wooo congrats king!! 🇺🇲🇺🇲🇺🇲

[cece693]

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.

[ar3-y0u-l0st]

》 🄼🄸🅂🅂 🄿🄴🅁🄴🄶🅁🄸🄽🄴'🅂 🄷🄾🄼🄴 🄵🄾🅁 🄿🄴🄲🅄🄻🄸🄰🅁 🄲🄷🄸🄻🄳🅁🄴🄽

Requests: Open / Closed

That's what I can do — take the life of one thing and give it to another, either clay like this or something that used to be alive but ain't anymore.

> Enoch O'Connor

- ALMA PEREGRINE

- JACOB PORTMAN

- EMMA BLOOM

- ENOCH O'CONNOR

Babysitting

- MILLARD NULLINGS

- FIONA FRAUNFELD

- HORACE SOMNUSSON

- HUGH APISTON

- VICTOR BRUNTLEY

- BRONWYN BRUNTLEY

- OLIVE ELEPHANTA*

- CLAIRE DENSMORE*

---------------------------------------------------

(*) Will not, under any circumstances, write smut

(**) If you're into them then I won't deprive you ig

Credit/s: @k1ssyoursister for the divider

[coffeeanddimlights]

Emma Bloom HCs

- She has a heart locket with a picture of herself and Abe inside. She couldn’t bring herself to replace his picture or put it away when she started to date Jacob. Only after she finally began to get over him (post TDoDA) she put it in a keepsake box in her closet and hasn’t thought of it since.

- Her breakup with Jacob made her reflect a lot on how obsessed she was with Abe which is how she began to finally get over him. She ended up discovering she was pan after falling in love with a preppy popular girl at Jacob’s school who she’s been dating ever since.

- She became a professional photographer in both the modern and peculiar world, making a living in both worlds. Her girlfriend helped her set up a social media account to get more traction; her first photos that went viral were of photoshoots of her girlfriend and she’s been living off commission since. In the peculiar world she helps document fellow peculiars.

- Emma was always in charge of Miss Peregrine’s photo album and was the one who took photos of all the children (Abe took the photo of herself for her).

- When she fled home she didn’t have any belongings, therefore nothing to remember her sister by. After all these years she’s forgotten her voice and her face, and she sometimes cries at night trying to piece her back together in her mind. She and Millard once tried to find records or any information of Julia but they never found anything, which plagues her mind.

- Noor and Emma’s girlfriend drastically helped Emma warm up to modern fashion. She finally developed her own fashion sense, mostly consisting of sundresses, floral crop tops and baggy jeans. She’s a fan of the preppy-hipster style of dress to her girlfriend’s more bra top and leggings style of preppy.

- As often as they fight, she sees Enoch as the younger brother she never had and loves him dearly. It never occurred to her that he felt the same until she realized how concerned he was over her (towards the end of TCoTB) and she started to be more patient with his attitude (though she never hesitates to call him out on bs).

- She loves birds and owned a pet canary once, but after she accidentally burned his wing with her pinky, she decided that all pets were off the table and set him free, though she still misses him dearly and loves all animals in general.

- While she disliked and felt very jealous towards Noor at first, after they began to hangout, she grew to saw Noor as a good friend. The two, along with Bronwyn, Fiona, (and later Emma’s girlfriend), all hang out together as often as they can, usually shopping or going on walks (or pranking the boys). They love having girl’s nights with Claire and Olive (Horace tags along occasionally) and sleepovers in each other’s rooms (though Miss Peregrine makes sure Emma and her girlfriend sleep separately much to Emma’s annoyance).

[lunarluvbot]

miss peregrine's home for peculiar children

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

personal favorites : ☾

platonic : ✩

sensitive topics/angst : 𖦹

fluff : 𖤓

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

millard nullings

[...]

jacob portman

[...]

enoch o'conner

[...]

hugh apiston

[...]

emma bloom

[...]

miss peregrine

[...]

[arriansarchive]

MPHFPC MASTERLIST

Alma Lefay Peregrine

Alma LeFay Peregrine/Symbiote!Venom!Male!Reader HCS

Caul Bentham

None :(

Jacob Portman

Jacob Portman/Symbiote!Venom!Male!Reader HCS

Jacob Portman/Male!Reader Drabble

Emma Bloom

Emma Bloom/Male!Peculiar!Reader

Emma Bloom/Male!Reader

Fiona Frauenfeld

None :(

Hugh Apiston

None :(

Millard Nullings

Millard Nullings/Symbiote!Venom!Male!Reader HCS

Noor Pradesh

Noor Pradesh/Symbiote!Venom!Male!Reader

Enorace

Enoch O'Connor/Horace Somnusson

Enoch O'Connor/Horace Somnusson Drabble

Enoch O'Connor/Horace Somnusson HCS PT. 1

Enoch O'Connor/Horace Somnusson HCS PT. 2

Jillard

Millard Nullings/Jacob Portman HCS PT. 1

Millard Nullings/Jacob Portman HCS PT. 2

Millard Nullings/Jacob Portman HCS PT. 3

Millard Nullings/Jacob Portman HCS PT. 4

Millard Nullings/Jacob Portman

Joor

None :(

Jemma

None :(

[strabereii]

Welcome to my page! Boundaries and such are below!

DNI: Anti-furs, MDNI blogs/Nsfw/18+blogs, Zoophiles, Homophobes, Transphobes, Maps/pedos, etc etc. Generally don't be a creep or rude.

Interact!: People who share my interest fandoms, Furries, Trans people, queer people, This page is a safe space anyone is allowed here <3

My boundaries (proper boundaries will be added later): Please no serious flirting (unless I've known you for a while/you know my partner), no cruel jokes. I would love to have mutuals with my interests!

About me ! : I have a few names, Primarily I'm known as Ghost, Ray, or aster (some people know me as milki), I use any pronouns but I primarily use She/her. I'm a minor! And I have an amazing boyfriend<3

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I am in a LOT of fandoms, but here are some of them!

Top gun & top gun maverick

MPHFPC

Paw patrol

Harry potter

The goonies

Scream

Trick 'r treat

Goosebumps

I.T

My babysitters a vampire

Creepypasta

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Boundaries for my writing. (I have NOT written in a while! Keep this in mind!)

I will do F!, M!, NB/GN!, Ftm!, Mtf! Readers by request. Sometimes I will post original works aswell (not relating to any fandoms)

Fluff, angst, Romantic, Platonic, Siblings, Poly relationships etc are accepted

Not allowed are: Incest, Nsfw, Pedophilia, SA.

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Thanks for stopping by! <3

[sprites-writing]

Chapter 14: Castles Crumbling

Freya POV, 1350 words kinda all over the place because this is a filler chapter, shit's going down next chapter ;)

heads up that there's kinda graphic descriptions of injuries throughout, especially concerning blood, tldr if you need it at the bottom :) also heavy talk of insecurities/self-worth issues

chapter 1 chapter 13

By the time the rain stopped, we were down on the beach, the stars shining in the sky as if twelve lives hadn’t just been destroyed. I stood a few feet away from the others, their distrust in me breaking my heart into a thousand little pieces.

Now that the adrenaline had worn off, the pain from my wounds was making it hard to stand up straight. I had a bullet still lodged in my left shoulder, my right hand was sprained, if not broken from how hard I had landed on it while trying to save Enoch and I had easily a dozen deep cuts from the glass. Blood was slowly seeping onto my dress, staining the green a reddish-brown.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” Fiona said, “What do we do now?”

Jacob looked lost, leadership obviously not being something he was used to. “I-is there any sign of Miss Peregrine and that Wight?”

“Gone. They must have had a boat.” I shook my head, the motion sending more blood out of my shoulder and I clamped my most definitely broken hand over it.

“We need to go after them,” Jacob said, stating the obvious. “We know he’s taking her to Blackpool.”

“But Blackpool is miles away! The next ferry doesn’t go for hours. We’ll never make it in time,” said Millard.

“Not unless we go by boat too.”

I snorted, “Where the fuck are we gonna find a boat?”

Turns out there was a boat. Mind, it was easily 200 metres underwater, but there was a boat. Slowly, we swam down, Emma blowing air bubbles for us to be able to breathe. Every stroke of my arms sent agony flaring up my shoulder and down my back, the bullet had done more damage than I thought.

While Emma worked on filling the rest of the boat up with air once one room was sufficiently dry enough for us to breathe, the rest of us slowly moved room by room through the ship, finding enough bedrooms for each peculiar to have two, the engine room and a room full of skeletons.

Before long, we all ended up in the bridge. The angle that the ship had taken to get out of the water resulting in most of us falling against a wall. Once we were out of the sea, Enoch came and stood beside me as we all looked out at the island. There was no guarantee we would ever come back, let alone live past tomorrow.

I did my best to avoid everyone, including Enoch, for the next few hours. The betrayal in their eyes was too much for me to handle, especially while we rushed to Blackpool.

It was like every single good thing I had done in the last nearly seventy years had been erased in a matter of an hour. Every night spent drinking in the village with Olive and Emma meant nothing. Every time I took care of Wyn and Claire meant nothing. Every afternoon I soothed Fiona when she lost control because of Hugh, they meant nothing.

If I had to see my family look at me like I was a monster one more time…

In a way, they were confirming all the fears I’d had since I was thirteen. No one could ever fully accept that someone they loved could kill them and anyone else in seconds if their control slipped for only a moment.

I will always be on my own. I will never have anyone for long.

Maybe it was a gift of sorts to have seventy years of being loved, even if I had to hide such a big portion of myself to get it.

My spiral of self-pity was interrupted as I turned down the hallway that led to the room I’d claimed for the night. It was a good few hallways away from both where the younger and older wards were sleeping. Enoch was leaning on the wall next to the door.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing, everything’s fine,” I said, trying to push past him to open the door.

“Sure, that’s why there’s blood all over you.”

I half-turned to him, “I can fix it.” I didn’t like being shitty to him but it would keep him safe and I’ll be damned if that wasn’t my top priority.

He raised an eyebrow, he knew damn well I was bullshitting, “You can fix a bullet wound with one hand?”

I sighed in defeat and let him follow me in. While he found a first aid kit in the bathroom, I pulled off my dress and my cami underneath, leaving me in a soft bralette and bloomers.

I had just sat on the bed when Enoch turned around with bandages and tweezers in hand. At the sight of me, his jaw dropped slightly, “I didn’t realize it was so bad, I would’ve annoyed you into letting me help earlier if I knew.”

To be fair, I was looked a mess. I had rebraided my hair after getting to the ship but the water had wreaked havoc on my curls and had left them in a mat of tangles. My shoulder had stopped bleeding, but there was still blood crusted from my collarbone to my bicep. There wasn’t too much blood from the glass but that was only because they were still embedded in my skin.

“Where do you want to start?” he said, sitting down gently next to me.

“Bullet. Probably not good for it to stay in there long.” He nodded and I twisted so that he could see where it entered. 

He unscrewed a bottle of whiskey and poured some on a cloth. “This is going to hurt like hell but we can’t risk infection, not right now.” Enoch wiped the cloth over my bloodstained skin and I hissed through my teeth at the sting. To say it hurt would’ve been the understatement of the century. It felt like it was burning through my raw skin.

After what felt like far too long, he had me lie on my back so that he could find the bullet. The tweezers were freezing as he dug through the muscle and flesh of my arm. There was a slight tugging feeling before the bullet was out.

“Here’s the little fucker,” he said, dropping it into my waiting hand. It was only a few minutes longer before I was stitched and bandaged up.

“Glass next?”

“Yeah,” I sighed, knowing that this was going to be a long process. Thankfully, it had been mostly big shards of glass that got stuck, the majority of the small pieces bouncing off me.

After another twenty minutes he asked “Is there anything else?”

“I might have, possibly, definitely broken my hand when I was trying to grab the hollow,” I said, scrunching my face up as I waited for his reaction.

Noch blinked twice, “What?”

I held up my hand. Two of my finger were at an unnatural angle and you could just barely see where one of my bones poked into my skin slightly. It was a miracle I could move my hand at all right now.

“Oh shit. That-that is definitely broken. I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Me neither. Maybe we could bandage it? So that it doesn’t get worse?”

“Alright, we can do that.” He gently wrapped my hand then redid the bandages on my arm and thigh from when Claire spilt her hot chocolate. 

God, I thought, that couldn’t have been just three days ago.

There we sat in silence, Enoch cradling my fucked over hand in his like it was something to be protected, like I was something to be protected, and I suddenly realized what was going to happen. We were finally going to talk about the elephant in the room that we’d been ignoring for sixty years.

“Frey—” he started and I snatched my hand back.

I shook my head, clutching my broken hand to my chest as I stood up. “I-I can’t,” I said backing away until I reached the door.

And then I ran.

TLDR if the injury talk was not for you: Freya begins to distance herself from the others because she thinks she's worthless after how the others (minus Enoch) reacted to the death-touch part of her peculiarity. They go down to the Augusta. General talk of how they confirmed the fears she had for years about not being accepted for her peculiarity and maybe it was a gift that she got nearly 70 years of them not knowing. Enoch fixes up all her injuries even tho she's been trying to avoid him. Enoch tries to get her to talk about their feelings but she panics and runs off.

chapter 15

[dragonsdendoodles]

I have no idea why but Hugh just. Feels like the kind of person who just Cannot Do Math

[why-are-all-the-users-taken]

Hugh: *starring at Millard* ur so pretty

Enoch: how do u know, u can't even see him-

Hugh: I don't remember asking u a goddam thing

[zelcii]

passing by (rewritten) | millard nullings

8:43. every morning, like clockwork, you ran toward the house with nothing but joy in each step. arms held close to your sides, your floral dress catching the wind as your feet pounded the cobblestones, making your way toward the home. you always wore flowers in your dress, in your hair, growing in your mind. it was like you lived in a garden only you could see. and i'd be there, waiting for you, always on the third step, just near the pot of flowers fiona left the day before.

“hello, gorgeous,” you’d say, your voice light as you caught your breath, a spark in your eyes that always made me wonder how you could look so alive. 

i’d reach for your hand, feeling the soft warmth of your palm against mine, and pull you closer. “darling,” i’d say, bowing dramatically as our hands intertwined. “to what do i owe the pleasure?”

“oh, you know,” you smiled in a way that made me feel like you knew more than you were saying. “just passing by,” you’d reply, always the same, always with that gleam in your eyes that made me feel like the rest of the world was far, far away.

we’d walk the shores of cairnholm, the lighthouse a distant silhouette, the waves lapping at our ankles. we'd swim in the shallows, never venturing too far, just enough to feel the cool water tugging at us. by 9:00, we’d be lying in the sand, the grains sticking to your hair, though you never cared. your fingers would weave through my hair in slow circles, gently combing through it as if you could see every strand. i’d watch you, your eyes turned toward the sky as if you could hear the ocean speaking to you in a way i never could.

you made me believe that the world was bigger than what we saw. like we had all the time in the world. but that was the problem, wasn’t it? because by nightfall, the loop would reset, and you’d be gone. the memory of you would stay with me, but you wouldn’t. 

i’d watch you then, stealing glances when you weren’t looking, when your gaze was lost in the horizon. there was something about the way you looked at the sea—like it held answers, or maybe just a piece of you. my smile never faded, like i was fighting the urge to let go of something fragile.

i told you everything i could in those moments, everything but the truth. i’d tell you about the book you lent me, how i was nearly done. i talked about the way fiona’s plants were growing faster than usual. only the things that concerned your world. the world beyond the loop. a world that now seems so distant. 

i’d stumble over my words, trying to remeber everything that happened on september second, nineteen-forty. because i could never tell you how miss peregrine stopped asking about you. or how jacob had supper with us again last night. i couldn’t say it—couldn’t say that you were fading in more ways than one. though i suppose none of it would matter because tomorrow, you won't remember a thing.

the next morning, i was early. too early. i stood by the steps again, the house quiet behind me. the other kids were already up, busy washing their clothes and cooking for supper. doing whatever chores they had to do that day.

i sat there, waiting for you. always waiting for you.

“hello, gorgeous,” you said, that same familiar smile on your lips as you approached. i reached for your hand, feeling the weight of what i couldn’t say pressing against me. 

you leaned into me, and i kissed your cheek gently. i didn't do that the days before, but today felt eerily unlike the others. i needed the warmth of your skin to anchor me. “to what do i owe the pleasure?”

you laughed, that same soft sound. “just passing by,” you said, but this time, i thought to question whether you meant something deeper than that.

as we walked, the wind tugging at your dress, i kept you close. i didn’t let go of your hand. i couldn’t. every time the loop reset, you seemed to stray a little farther away, even when you were right next to me. 

we walked the same paths as always, but i kept you closer this time, feeling the brush of your dress against me as the wind caught it. i wondered, then, how you were outside of the loop. have you moved on? found a husband, and built a home. do you remember me? did you miss me the way i missed you? you must have been in your eighties by now

when i looked at you, that hope, that ache in my chest, my heart kept whispering the same question. were you still alive?

the sky shifted into shades of orange and pink as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over cairnholm. we walked in silence, your arm brushing against mine. with each step, the weight in my chest grew heavier. the knowledge that time, something i hadn't truly experienced in nearly a century, was slipping through my fingers.

“i love you, i really do,” i said, my voice breaking the quiet.

you laughed softly, and i felt it in my bones. a sound that once brought me so much comfort now felt like an echo, distant and fragile. of course you knew that. how could you not?

“obviously,” you teased, your lips curling into a playful smirk. “tell me something i don’t know."

i paused, the words catching in my throat. what more could i say that you haven't already heard? but there was so much—so much that i had never found a way to tell you, not fully, not in the way you deserved. i looked down at my feet, feeling the pebbles of cobblestone under my shoes. for a moment, i struggled to find my voice again.

“alright,” i started slowly, my gaze lifting to meet yours. “you are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.” i could feel my heart beating louder with each word, the vulnerability almost too much to bear. “it is a blessing, by the birds or by whatever forces of the universe, that you are my everyday.”

i stopped walking, turning to face you, my hands trembling as i reached for yours. “i love you in ways i cannot express,” my voice softened, barely above a whisper. “and i am overflowing with words that i simply do not have.”

there was a silence after that, one that stretched between us like a vast, unspoken truth. i felt raw, exposed, like every piece of me was laid bare before you.

when i got back to the home, supper was waiting, and the others gathered around the table. jacob was there again, sitting beside emma. i tried not to watch the way they looked at each other, their stolen glances. i could barely hear any of the children at the table, my mind still full of you. fiona and hugh sat across from me, hands intertwined under the table. it made my stomach churn to watch them. they didn’t know how lucky they were—to have time that didn’t vanish, to have a love that didn’t dissolve with the sunrise.

after dinner, i slipped away to the parlour, sitting in the quiet. my mind was spinning. i didn’t want to think, didn’t want to feel the emptiness growing in the space where you should've been. next to me. 

that’s when olive appeared, her small feet making heavy, deliberate steps as she approached me. 

“millard!” she chirped, her voice brimming with the kind of enthusiasm that only a child could muster. i had to remind myself that she couldn't see the whole world unravelling around me. “what’s the matter? you're all gloomy.”

i lifted my gaze, meeting her wide, innocent eyes. how could she ever understand? “nothing, olive. just... thinking.”

“aboutttt??” she perched herself on the edge of the chair beside me, her small feet kicking rhythmically against its legs. her eyes sparkled with curiosity and mischief. “you mean the girl, don’t you?” her voice took on a sing-song quality, leaning forward with eager anticipation. “tell me about her, will you?” olive had always been a dreamer, crafting stories of grand romances and fairytale endings.

with little hesitance, i started, “she’s the sweetest.” the weight of my unspoken sorrow sinking deeper with each breath. “a caring soul, full of nothing but love, much like you.” 

olive’s face lit up at the compliment, her round cheeks flushed with pride. “really?” she asked, bouncing slightly in her seat. 

“she’s in love with poetry and passion,” i continued softly, my voice laden with a bitterness that belied the gentle words. “and everything she can feel but cannot see.”

olive tilted her head, her eyes wide and curious. “like you?” she asked, her voice brimming with innocence, not minding the pain woven into my words.

i swallowed hard, struggling with the weight of my own emotions. “yes,” i said, my voice trembling slightly. i looked at her, trying to convey the depth of what i felt. “like me.” but the truth was, it wasn’t the same. i spent my days chasing a ghost, an illusion of you that vanished just as quickly as it appeared. olive didn’t understand. she couldn’t. her world was still full of dreams and possibilities, while mine was shadowed by the echoes of a love that slipped through my fingers.

when miss peregrine came to me, i already knew what she was going to say. her steps were slow, her voice low as she told me that you were sick—that you were fading faster than she’d thought. but i knew. i had felt it for weeks, even if i didn't want to admit it. 

i left the loop alone the next morning. leaving you to get to you. it felt strange to walk the familiar path without you—my steps heavy with dread—though i suppose the pavements weren't so familiar with new cracks and patches of moss. when i reached your house, i knocked, my heart racing in my chest. your voice, weak but still you, called for me to enter.

your home felt different. the warmth was gone, but nearly everything remained the same—your lace curtains, the smell of the sea mingling with the scent of warm tea. i sat beside your bed, taking your hand in mine, the weight of all those unspoken words pressing down on me.

when you opened your eyes, i could see the years on your face, the way time had touched you in ways it never would me. i should’ve been there, growing old with you like i promised. instead, i’d been stuck in a place where time couldn’t touch me, and you had moved on without me.

“hello, gorgeous,” i said, my voice breaking as i pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

you smiled, but it was weaker than before. “millard…?”

i held your hand tighter, not wanting to let go. “don't worry, love,” i whispered, tears stinging my eyes. “just passing by.”

[cece693]

HELLOUUUUU I LOVE LOVE THE NEW FICSS may i request an enoch x male reader where he gets really jealous so he locks? the reader in a room? 😭 if not , enoch taking care of sick reader 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Hello, so I really have been leaning toward this fandom for sometime, but didn't know what to write about, so I thank you for these ideas. Couldn't decide between the two, so I'll write both.

Locked Inside

tags: jealous enoch, he's literally a cat, you can't change my mind, reader was written with a male in mind but it can literally also be gender neutral

You don’t think much of it when Enoch’s eyes narrow at you across the sitting room. He’s been that way all day—drawn into himself, fidgeting with the small homunculus he created just that morning, and wearing the most obvious pout. At first, you suspect he’s just having another one of those days where irritability is his default mode. But after dinner, he guides you by the hand upstairs.

You’re so used to letting him lead you that you don’t notice, at first, where exactly he’s taking you. Only after he closes his bedroom door and you hear the lock click do you spin around, confusion written all over your face. “Enoch?” you say, placing a hand gently on the doorknob. “Is there a reason the door’s locked?”

He looks at you—dark eyes flickering with swirling emotions. “I didn’t want you leaving.”

The small, powerless click of the lock feels more like Enoch’s own heart snapping into place than anything threatening. You’ve seen him moody and sarcastic, but this? This is different. He’s shifting from foot to foot like he’s not sure if he wants to come closer or retreat entirely. It reminds you of a cat that can’t decide if it wants to be in your lap or stalk off with its tail in the air.

Your eyebrows lift in mild concern. “Not that I’m complaining about alone time, but what’s going on?”

He glares at the space between you both. “I saw you laughing with Hugh earlier,” he says softly. “And you gave him that new scarf to try on. You were talking so happily…then you went with Emma and Claire to pick flowers. You just—You haven’t spent any time with me all day.”

The jealousy in his voice is heartbreakingly obvious. You can’t help but smile a little, despite the pinch of guilt in your chest. “That doesn’t mean I like them more than you,” you say gently.

Enoch scoffs, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Well, you might as well,” he mutters. “I can’t compete with them. They’re…they’re nicer. Or at least more—well—charismatic than I am.” He looks away, swallowing. “Why would you bother with me when they’re so much easier to be around?”

Softening, you cross the few steps that separate you, then slowly ease your arms around his waist. He stiffens for only a second before he gives in, letting out a breath he’s been holding. He nuzzles his forehead near your collarbone, almost as if he’s trying to hide.

“Enoch.” You lift one hand to brush his hair back from his forehead. He’s tense in your arms, shoulders wound tight. “I don’t want easier, or nicer, or more charismatic. I want you.” You feel him release a slight tremor of relief when you say that. “I enjoy being around the others, sure, but you have something that no one else does. You see things differently, and you don’t pretend to be someone you’re not. You’re my Enoch.”

He shifts again—pushing his face against your shoulder. It’s almost catlike, the way he leans and subtly demands your touch. “You’re sure?” he asks, voice half-muffled. “You’re not just saying that?”

You tilt his chin up, making him meet your eyes. “I’m absolutely sure.” You watch as the tension in his features slowly uncoils. “As for locking the door…” you tease gently, “I guess I can forgive you this time, but maybe next time, you can just ask to spend time with me without barricading me in a room.”

His cheeks flush pink. “I just…didn’t want to risk you saying no.” He tries to sound nonchalant, but he’s clearly embarrassed. You only smile.

“Enoch, if you want me, all you have to do is tell me,” you say. “I promise, I’ll want to spend time with you—no question.” Enoch slowly cracks a small, genuine smile. The sight feels like a warm beam of sunlight in the dusty gloom of his usual expressions. He tugs you to his bed, encouraging you to sit, and then promptly curls up beside you, leaning his head on your shoulder as if you’re his personal pillow.

You run a reassuring hand up and down his arm, content and comfortable as he snuggles closer. All at once, the locked door doesn’t feel confining—it feels safe, a private cocoon for the two of you. You can’t stop the soft laugh that leaves your lips when he hooks a leg over yours to keep you in place, making his possessiveness known. You only pull him closer, pressing your cheek gently against his hair.

Personal Nurse

tags: enoch cares, enoch becomes nurse, grumpy to others but melts around you, pre-relationship, gender neutral

Somewhere in the timeless hush of Miss Peregrine’s loop, the air feels heavier, more oppressive than usual. You notice it first when you wake with a dull ache in your bones, head throbbing and throat tight. Being peculiar never guaranteed perfect health, and the cold that grips you is proof enough. By afternoon, you’re reduced to a shivery bundle under covers in your assigned bedroom, nose runny and eyelids drooping with fatigue.

You’re dimly aware of the others bustling outside your door—Millard’s telltale footprints, Emma’s quiet knocks to ask if you need anything, Bronwyn’s booming concern. But after an hour or so, their voices fade, and a different presence appears.

“Oi, you awake?” Enoch’s soft voice, laced with uncertainty, drifts across the room. You push aside your swirling thoughts and look up. He’s standing near your door, balancing a cup of tea and a small bowl of soup on a tray. It’s a comical sight—Enoch, usually snarky and uninterested, meticulously carrying sustenance. He wrinkles his nose as if the whole act embarrasses him. Without meeting your eyes, he sets the tray on your nightstand, pulling a chair closer.

You blink in surprise. “Enoch? Did…did Miss Peregrine send you?”

“No,” he mumbles, crossing his arms but not quite managing his usual scowl. “I just… Millard said you were coughing up a lung. I figured I’d see if you needed something. Don’t look at me like that.”

A chuckle rattles in your chest, turning into a small cough. You cover your mouth quickly and watch Enoch’s eyes widen with momentary concern. “Here,” he says, ignoring your amusement, “drink the tea. Get some liquid in you so you don’t keel over.”

As you take the teacup, your hand brushes his. He flinches—startled by the heat of your skin—and sets his palm against your forehead with unexpected gentleness. “You’re burning up,” he murmurs, brow furrowed. “Idiot. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Didn’t realize it was this bad,” you admit, voice scratchy and weak. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Enoch tries to scowl, but it flickers at the edges and melts into something softer. “Don’t apologize. Just get better,” he mutters. Then he straightens with renewed resolve. “Anyway, Miss P said I should check your fever. So.” He presses a cool, damp cloth to your forehead. “I’m just—uh—helping.”

You can’t hide your fond smile as he fusses over you. His movements are gentle, minutely precise, yet laced with his brand of awkward care. You sip the tea, feeling warmth spread through your aching chest, and Enoch continues to hover, eventually picking at the fabric of your blanket like a fidgety cat. By mid-afternoon, word spreads. Hugh and Fiona stand by the open door, peeking in with wide eyes as Enoch shuffles a blanket around your shoulders.

“Aww,” Hugh can’t help but tease, “look at Nurse Enoch go.”

You see Enoch stiffen instantly. His posture changes from gentle caretaker to defensive cynic in a heartbeat. “Shut it,” Enoch snaps, turning his glare on the onlookers. “I’m just doing what needs to be done. Now get out if you're just going to stare.” A bit flustered, Fiona quickly ushers Hugh away, casting you an apologetic smile. The moment they leave, Enoch’s shoulders lose some of their tension, and he gently tucks the blanket around you again.

“Don’t mind them,” you offer, voice hoarse but understanding. “They’re just surprised. You’re normally…well, not exactly Florence Nightingale.”

He huffs, lips pursed. “I don’t do this for anyone else.” The admission is so quiet you barely catch it. “Besides, you’re the one with a fever. If it were me, you’d—”

“I’d do the same,” you finish confidently, smiling up at him.

A flicker of relief lights his eyes. He lingers beside your bed, unsure what to do with his hands now that he’s been ‘caught’ being tender. Finally, with a dismissive sigh, he grabs the chair and pulls it close. “You should sleep,” Enoch says, voice just above a whisper.

“I’m not that tired anymore, actually,” you protest, but another wave of exhaustion weighs on you. You slump back into the pillow, eyelids fluttering. Enoch runs a hesitant hand across your forehead, checking the damp cloth, and you catch a glimpse of genuine concern in his eyes. Despite his usual grumbling exterior, his touch is cool and mindful, lulling you into a comforting haze.

“I’ll wake you if anything changes,” he says, and you know he’s talking about your fever. Slowly, you nod, letting your eyes drift closed. You sense him fiddling with something at your bedside. Then, you feel the gentle ghost of movement as he tugs the covers more snugly around your shoulders and settles in the chair. Through the haze of half-sleep, you feel strangely safe.

When you wake a few hours later, the early afternoon light has softened in the windows. Enoch is still there, arms crossed, dozing lightly. The tray on your nightstand has a fresh pitcher of water, and a half-folded note from Miss Peregrine reads something about rest and medication. Unable to hide a grin, you reach out and lightly tap Enoch’s arm. He startles awake with a snort. “You alright?” he blurts, voice thick with sleep.

You nod, your own voice a little steadier. “Feeling a bit better, actually.” A slight pause. “Thank you.”

His cheeks tint with the barest hint of pink. “You’d do the same,” he repeats quietly, eyes avoiding yours in that shy, defensive Enoch way. He stands up, briskly adjusting the damp cloth on your forehead. Then he stands by the door, not quite leaving yet. “Do you need anything else?” he mumbles, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Just you,” you say, your smile warm. “I mean—your company, I mean.”

He catches the meaning, and for a second, a tiny smirk lifts the corners of his mouth. He exhales, stepping back inside. “Fine. I suppose I can keep watch a bit longer,” he says, like it’s a big inconvenience. Yet he makes no move to leave your side—pulling up the chair, leaning forward with elbows on knees, eyes resting on you. For all his scowling and snapping remarks, he can’t quite keep the softer concern out of his gaze. And you can’t help but feel grateful that, for at least a moment, Enoch has let himself be your personal nurse. Even if he might deny it later.

[frost-queen]

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.

------------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[funeral-division]

🍁BABYSITTING🍁

Pairing: Enoch O'Connor x Fem!Reader

Synopsis After Miss Peregrine gets ready to leave for a week due to the meeting, she puts the house under the care of a very cruel nanny

Warning/s: No use of y/n, implications of abuse, condescension, patronizing, foul language, bird feeding, slight infatuation from Enoch's side

9:00am. Sharp. It was your duty to wake the other kids as instructed by Miss Peregrine. Everyone was already fussing about her business trip to Miss Avocet's loop.

"Olive fix your dress, the nanny expects you all to look prim and proper by the time she arrives"

"Prim and proper" Bronwyn scoffs "As if there's a problem with what I'm wearing."

"Nanny?" Millard stops fussing with his itchy collar "Can we not look after ourselves, you know? Like we always do?"

"Absolutely not." Miss Peregrine replies firmly "I will not have you left all alone in the loop after Enoch had almost missed rewinding it. Good grief I came back a minute before."

Emma just sighs, scowling a little as Jacob fidgets and plays with her hair. She smiles smally up to Jacob, giving him a sweet peck on the lips. Miss Peregrine gives them a once over before shutting her suitcase.

"And please refrain from any public displays of affection. The new nanny won't take kindly to it." She sighs, handing Bronwyn her hat.

"This clothes are so silly" Claire whines, wanting to change back into her sweet, pink tulle dress.

"And itchy" Olive scoffs, Millard nodding in agreement and muttering under his breath about wanting to go nude again.

"I quite like them" Horace smiles but it quickly falters when he sees the look of disgust given to him by both Hugh and Fiona.

"I don't even know you anymore"

"Yeah, just because you've got a suit and we all have stupid, frilly dresses" Fiona glares over, picking at the hem. "It's an embarrassment is what it is"

Sighing softly, you do a headcount. Claire, Olive, Bronwyn, Hugh, Horace, Fiona, Millard, Jacob, Emma and Enoch. Wait...

"Where's Enoch?" You speak up, right as Miss Peregrine buttons up her coat, it fit her figure perfectly.

"Here" He grumbles, having just changed into one of his old suits. You look over, nodding in acknowledgement. "So how long you gonna be out? I ain't gonna reset the loop again." Miss Peregrine fixes her glare at him.

"No, you won't. Mrs Barclay will be there to rewind it this time" She huffs, grabbing her shoes "I suggest all of you be on your best behaviour, especially you" She points over to Enoch.

He rolls his eyes when pointed at by Miss Peregrine, folding his arms over his chest. A look of contempt and annoyance clear as day on his face. He was already feeling like a little kid who had just been scolded for making a mess.

He sighs, watching as everyone scurries off in different directions to make themselves appear presentable for the new nanny who was about to come through the door. Enoch simply remains where he was, knowing how the nanny would likely react to his appearance. He then looks down at his dark grey, pinstriped suit and wrinkled shirt.

"Is that what your going to wear?" Horace casts his head down and gives a slight look of judgement, sipping at his drink. Enoch just glares at Horace, a slight scoff sounding from his lips.

"What? You don't think it flatters my slim build enough?" He says sarcastically before rolling his eyes. He knew Horace was judging him, it showed clear as day on his face. His usual annoyed expression morphs into one of irritation and sarcasm now, his arms folding across his chest again.

"Or my lovely brown eyes and flawless skin?" He says mockingly, his voice dripping with an obvious sarcasm.

"At least some of us are blessed with looks" Horace rolls his eyes slightly "And not busy dreaming of some girl who fawns over you for doing the bare minimum" He frowns, his annoyance only increasing at the comment. It takes all his will to not smack that stupid smile off Horace's face. He tightens his arms, pressing his lips in a tight line.

"Don't forget the part where she's also repulsed by your very annoying presence." He says through gritted teeth.

"Are we talking about you or me?" He snickers, combing and slicking back his hair. He glares at Horace once more, his annoyance rising as the boy smirks at him and does his hair. It was clear that Horace was trying his best to piss him off, and that was the problem. The very reason he hated Horace.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure we're talking about you." He growls out in response, his fists clenching. "And I'm pretty sure you're one little comment away from making me throw you head first into a wall." He mutters under his breath, his eyes narrowing at Horace as he continues to smirk.

"Oh? And what will she think about that?" Horace just smirks evilly, having blackmail on Enoch's current infatuation. He freezes, his eyes widening as he hears Horace mention her. He can feel his blood starting to boil, his hands slowly clenching into fists. His annoyance had quickly become anger.

"You better watch your mouth, Horace.." He hisses out, his voice threatening and dangerous. Just as they can take things any further from bad mouthing each other, there's a knock on the door. The new nanny stopping everyone in their tracks.

All conversation is stopped instantly the second they hear the knock on the door, every noise ceases and the kids go completely still. All eyes go to the front door where the knock just came from.

Enoch's frown deepens, his mood souring even more than before. He glances around at the other children, taking in their frightened expressions. He silently scowls, folding his arms tightly across his chest once more. This was going to be a long week...

After many hushed whispers, Emma opens the door, practically sinking in her shoes as she observes her slender figure looming over the little ones and glaring them down with her beady, blue eyes.

Her petticoat was tight and pink and her skirt was paired with mudhoney socks which were over exaggerated with floral decor. Both you and Olive couldn't help but notice how she wore an excessive amount of powdered makeup, no doubt filled with traces of lead to further emphasise how over the top she looked at that moment. Even Miss Peregrine couldn't help a small stifle.

"Right, Mrs Barclay was it?" The woman gives a curt nod, wetting her lips and further smearing her already ruined lipstick across her face caked with poor quality foundation. The kind upper class people got to brag about their wealth.

Enoch watched in silent annoyance, standing off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes darted up and down Mrs. Barclay, taking in her appearance and silently judging her. He couldn't help but scoff at the sight of her excessive makeup.

More like a clown than a nanny. Great. We're stuck with her for the entire fucking week.

"Here's all their schedules. Oh, and don't forget to stay with Claire till she sleeps. She gets scared because of the thunder." Mrs Barclay nods boredly, watching Miss Peregrine kiss you and all the children before leaving.

As soon as Miss Peregrine leaves the loop, the atmosphere noticeably shifts. Her bored expression becoming more strict and sinister. You stand there for a moment before she scrutinises you, even taking out her monocle.

"You. Girl. What on earth are you wearing?" She point to the black sundress Miss Peregrine had gifted to you. That dress that made even Enoch give you attention.

It was paired with your signature tights, jacket and heels. The skirt wasn't short enough to be considered inappropriate and even had black decor on the sleeves which caught the attention of a certain someone.

Speaking of Enoch, he watches from the corner of his eyes as she sizes you up and down. He can see the distaste on her face, probably thinking that you look absolutely ridiculous to her but he couldn't help but look at you out of the corner of his eye.

His eyes roamed up your frame subtly, just watching how the dress hugged you in all the right places, how it seemed to compliment each feature of your figure. He quickly tore his gaze away once he realised he had been staring for a few seconds too long. He could feel his cheeks getting a little warm.

"A dress?" You murmur up, hoping it'll be enough to keep her from starting. But of course, you were wrong.

"You look like a hussie" Emma's mouth hangs open, covering Claire's ears. She could not believe the disrespectfulness and not to mention how she had said that in front of the children.

"Are you mad?" She snaps, staring up with a glare "Stop sexualising young girls just because of the way that they dress." Emma's outburst seemed to have caught Mrs Barclay off guard, who then turned to gape at her with a look of disbelief in her face.

"I will not have you speak to me like that, young lady!" She reprimands, her eyes almost bulging out of their sockets "And who am I to have a child talking to me like that! Where are your manners?" She puts her hands on her hips and looks down her snooty nose at Emma.

She huffed indignantly, clearly not used to having someone speak back to her like that. Mrs. Barclay glances over to you, her eyes scanning you up and down again. She looks like a dragon inspecting a meal. Her lips pursing a little before she speaks.

"And you..." She mutters, taking a step closer. She stands over you, her eyes sweeping over your body one more time, her lip curled.

"Do you think it's appropriate to wear something so..." She looks for the right word before finally spitting it out "Revealing, in front of children?"

Before you can even respond, she goes over to Claire. Her expression becomes sickeningly sweet, her tone condescending and patronizing before asking her opinion on your clothing to her.

"Claire, dear.." She coos, glancing down at you from the corner of her eye "What do you think of this young lady's clothing?" Claire simply looked up at Mrs. Barclay, blinking a few times in confusion.

"It's pretty..." She said innocently, her tone and expression still showing that she didn't quite understand why Mrs. Barclay was asking her opinion on your dress.

Mrs. Barclay huffed, looking slightly flustered by the fact that Claire's only response was to call your dress "pretty" and she quickly tried to backtrack.

"Yes, but do you think its... appropriate for a young lady to be wearing something so... revealing?" Claire's expression was the picture of innocence as she tilted her head to the side, still looking a little confused.

She didn't seem to understand why there would be an issue with your dress, she only knew that she thought it was pretty.

"What does revealing mean?" She asked, her voice still soft and innocent, looking up and fidgeting with the hem of her own dress.

Mrs. Barclay's face flushed a little, though it was hard to tell whether it was from frustration or embarrassment. She was clearly not expecting to have to explain such things to a child.

"It means... That it shows too much skin. That's not what young ladies should be doing, dear." Claire's eyes widened slightly, now understanding what Mrs. Barclay had meant. She glanced back at you, her gaze moving from your face to the dress, and then back up again.

"But she looks nice..." She mumbled, clearly not wanting to disagree with the woman in front of her. Mrs. Barclay's expression shifted at Claire's response.

"Yes, but that's not the point, dear." She said, trying to keep her tone patient but laced with annoyance "You see, young ladies are supposed to dress modestly. Showing too much skin is... indecent. It's not proper."

At this point, Enoch just snaps as does Horace. They both loved the dress, though Enoch would never admit it. Horace's voice piped up in unison with Enoch's, both of them having suddenly been pushed to their limit with the woman's judgmental tone and snobbish demeanor.

Enoch's eyes flashed with anger, his jaw clenching tightly and his chest rising and falling rapidly as he breathed in and out through his nose. He looked like he was barely holding his temper back.

"Yeah, why can't she wear what she wants?" He retorted, his tone sharp and challenging in response to Mrs Barclay's comments.

Mrs Barclay looked slightly stunned at the sudden outburst from both Horace and Enoch, clearly not expecting them to speak up in your defense. She quickly regained her composure, however, and responded in a cold, haughty tone.

"Because it's not proper. Young ladies should dress modestly, and they should not be exposing themselves to young gentlemen." Enoch's eyes narrowed to slits as he heard her response. The anger within him flared, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"And just who are you to decide what's proper or not?" He asked, his tone laced with sarcasm.

"That's it! To bed. All of you!" It was clear she was fuming, ignoring Claire's soft sobs against Enoch's trouser leg.

"Without Supper?" Fiona narrows her eyes, staring up at her with an almost incredulous look.

"Without anything at all!" She scoffs, ushering them all upstairs to their respective bedrooms. Only Enoch didn't move, staring her down with a possessive glint in his eyes. Enoch didn't move an inch, a defiant look in his dark eyes as he continued to stare down Mrs. Barclay.

He was seething with anger, his hands balled into fists at his side. He could feel the veins in his temples throbbing with irritation as he watched the other children being led off to their rooms.

He could feel his heart thudding against his chest, his jaw clenching tight as he waited for Mrs. Barclay to give him an explanation for her unjust actions. Mrs. Barclay's eyes narrowed as she finally turned her attention back to Enoch, her lips pulling into a thin line.

"And why aren't you upstairs in your room like the other children, Mr. O'Connor?" She asked, her tone dripping with condescension. Enoch's lips curled into a scowl as he met Mrs. Barclay's gaze, his eyes flashing with anger and defiance.

"Because I'm not a child." He replied with a slight hint of mockery in his voice as he took a step closer to her. Mrs. Barclay's expression hardened, not appreciating his tone of mockery. She took a step closer to him, her nose almost brushing against his.

"You are still under my care, so don't you take that tone with me, young man." She snapped back, clearly not intimidated by his towering height or his angry demeanor. He just scoffs before heading upstairs to the others and making sure they all right. Once everyone has fallen asleep, he finds himself at your door. Knocking once, he comes in and closes it.

"You awake?" He murmurs, looking over at your figure draped across the bed. Heavenly. Still in your beautiful sundress. God, you couldn't look more gorgeous. Your eyes fluttered open as you heard the soft knock on your door. You sat up in bed, your dark hair tumbling down across your shoulders as you looked up to find Enoch standing in the doorway.

Your heart skipped a beat as you took in his appearance, his tall, muscular frame silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway. You could feel your cheeks flush as he spoke, his voice a soft murmur.

"Yeah..." You managed to reply sleepily, watching as he came closer. He approached your bed, his movements slow and deliberate. His eyes never left yours as he stopped just a few feet away from you, his gaze roaming over your form, taking in the way your hair cascaded down your shoulders and the way your dress hugged your curves.

He could feel his heart beginning to race in his chest, his palms starting to sweat slightly as he stared down at you, looking so beautiful in the dim light.

"Can't sleep?" He asked, his voice low and gruff. You shook your head in response, your eyes never leaving his. You were acutely aware of the fact that he was standing mere inches away from you, and despite yourself, you found yourself feeling a little breathless in his presence. You could smell the faint scent of leather and musk coming from him, and it was making your head spin a little.

"No..." You replied softly, your eyes flickering over his face as you spoke, taking in every feature of his ruggedly handsome face "Not without supper" A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he heard your response.

He stepped closer to you, closing the last bit of distance between you. He was so close now that you could almost feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Nor without you." He replied quietly, his eyes locking with yours. There was a slight hint of huskiness in his voice as he spoke, and you could see the unmistakable look of longing in his gaze.

His comment has, admittingly, caught you off guard. Locking eyes, you watch him go to sift through his trouser pocket before picking out a small fork and a tub full of spaghetti.

"Want some? It's from this afternoons leftovers" You stared at the fork and the tub of spaghetti in his hands, a mixture of surprise and gratitude washing over you. You were a little touched by his thoughtfulness, and the fact that he had saved some food for you in spite of Mrs. Barclay's punishment.

"Yes... thank you." You murmur softly, becoming acutely aware of just how hungry you were. He raises the fork to your lips and watches you slowly wrap around the cold metal, eyes locked and slightly dazed with both your cheeks flushed.

You stared up at him, you breath caught in your throat, feeling very self-conscious as he watched you take the food into your mouth. You could feel your cheeks heating up under his gaze, and you couldn't help but feel a mixture of embarrassment and arousal at the intimate act.

You chewed the food slowly, your eyes locked with his the whole time. You could see the intense look in his eyes as he watched you eat, and it made your heart thump against your ribs. You swallowed the food, and as you did so, you could see a muscle in his jaw twitch slightly, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips.

His gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes darkening slightly as he watched you. There was something about the way you were eating that was making his blood run hot, and he could feel his own pulse quicken in response. For a few moments, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room was your own ragged breathing. Then he spoke, his voice low and gravelly.

"You look beautiful in that dress." Your cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red at his words, a mixture of flattery and shyness washing over you. You felt your heart leap in your chest at the unexpected compliment, your eyes flickering down to the dress as you tried to fight the pleased smile that was fighting its way onto your lips.

"Thank you..." You mumbled again, feeling suddenly very self-conscious of your appearance, even though you were painfully aware of just how beautiful he thought you looked in the dress.

Your head is still spinning from his compliment when you notice the mischievous glint in his eyes. You can't help but feel slightly nervous, wondering what it is he is thinking. The way he is looking at you is almost predatorial, like he is sizing you up and contemplating what to do with you next.

"One of these days, we should start learning to birdfeed eachother" He watches your eyes widen in shock and surprise as he suddenly suggests 'birdfeeding'. You had heard of this act in passing, but you had never contemplated actually doing it.

"What? You can't be serious. Birdfeeding?!" You exclaim, looking at him in disbelief. He smirks at your reaction, clearly amused by your surprise. He raises an eyebrow, a slight glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

"Oh, I'm very serious." He replies casually, his gaze roaming over you once more. You can tell he is enjoying the effect his words are having on you, and he is clearly not going to back down.

Your breath catches in your throat as he continues to gaze at you, his eyes darkened with hunger. You can feel your heart racing in your chest, your mind spinning with conflicting thoughts.

Part of you can't believe he is serious about this, but another part of you can't help but feel intrigued by the idea. You chew on your lower lip, trying to keep your composure.

"But... isn't it a bit... strange?" You ask quietly, still trying to mask your own interest. He chuckles at your question, his smirk widening into a sly grin.

"Birdfeeding isn't strange, darling. It's intimate." He takes a step closer to you, closing the distance between you until you are almost chest to chest. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, and his scent is making your head spin.

His words send a shiver down your spine. You can feel your body responding involuntarily to his proximity, your breathing becoming more shallow as you stare up at his face. You can see the hint of desire in his eyes, and it makes your heart race even faster.

"Intimate..." You repeat, your voice barely louder than a whisper. You swallow down hard, trying to keep your mind from wandering to the places it wanted to. You gasp in surprise as he suddenly grabs you, his fingers wrapping gently around your neck and pulling you towards him.

Before you have time to process what is happening, his lips are upon yours, the taste of pasta mingling with the slightly salty taste of his lips. You had expected the kiss to be harsh, but the kiss is surprisingly gentle, his lips moving against yours in a surprisingly tender manner.

Enoch O'connor. He loved anything to do with corpses, bodies and experimentation. Right now, he was testing your reaction to him. It didn't help that he felt the same fluttering in his chest. The urge to devour you growing stronger each passing second...

After all. Kissing is the first step towards cannibalism.

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Words: 3757

Characters: 21,236

Date: 14/12/2024

Time: 01:43am

Proofread: YES / NO

Signed: @Funeral-division