#miss peregrines home for peculiar children fanfic

[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.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[coryosbaby]

ᴅᴏʟʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ

Enoch O’Connor x angel! Reader <3

“Enoch! Give it back!”

Your citrine voice echoes throughout Miss Peregrine’s Orphanage as you chase the dark haired boy down. In his hands is your favorite doll, cracked but still beautiful, one Enoch had brought to life for you in the wee hours of the night many (of the same) days ago. He stomps angrily through the house, his jaw clenched, large back muscles flexing. Ignoring the squirming of the doll— aka, Mary— and her annoyed kicks, he tears open the door of his room and slams it right in your face.

How rude he is! All you had wanted to do was have tea with him and show him your new book. He had snapped at you, snarkily said something about “the both of you being too old for tea parties” and that he had more important things to do then do something so childish. You had snapped back, hurt from his words, and he had stolen Mary from you.

You don’t understand how he can be so cruel. His mood changes like the seasons— one minute he’s got a small smile on his usually dull face as he listens to you speak, making you toys that live and breathe. And then the next, it’s like you’re satan spawn.

You rest your back against his bedroom door, pouting. Tears begin to well in your eyes. You just wanted to show him your new book.

It isn’t long before you’re wiping your face and strolling towards Claire’s room. She lets you rant about your book without fuss, fascinated by all the tales that you had enamored yourself with. She also cheers you up about Enoch.

“He’s just in one of his moods,” she explained. A frown had formed on both of her faces, even when the one on the back of her head was gnawing on a chocolate chip cookie. “You know how he can get. He’ll cheer up and apologize, like he always does. Besides, he knows how important Mary is to you. He’ll give her back, I’m sure of it.”

You wonder how a child so young can be so intelligent about such things. But you guess that’s what happens when you relive the same day over and over for fifty years. You learn things, and in a way, still grow mentally.

After your talk with Claire, you feel better. You bid her goodbye, say hi to Emma as you pass her, and wander down the halls barefoot in your flowing pink dress. You make your way to the library for a new book to read.

To your distaste, Enoch is sitting at the couch when you walk through the door. You let out a little “hhm” sound, stomping angrily to the shelves. He’s got his head in a textbook about anatomy and looks up from it at the sound of your voice. He scoffs, then looks back down at it again.

Your fingers skim over book titles, some pretty and dainty, some horrific and covered in fine, dark print. You decide to pick a book by William Shakespeare— A Midsummer Night’s Dream. You scratch your feathered wings, beginning to read the book as you make your way back out of the room.

You pause at the door when Enoch’s voice makes way through your thoughts.

“You’ve read that one,” he murmurs, as his eyes scan over you.

You waver, hand staying on the doorknob.

“I didn’t know you remembered that.” you reply. You had read it years ago. Or, what you presume to be years ago. If you can even count time here.

“You recited it to me.” he shrugs, taking a glance over at your wings. They always fascinate him, even after all of this time.

“I know what I did, Enoch,” you retort, not having much logic in your sentence. But when do you ever? “Don’t tell me what I’ve done. You don’t have a right.”

“What sense does that make?” He questions snarkily, but you’re already out the door.

—

Dinner goes without much fuss. Miss Peregrine looks at the two of you questionably, wondering why you didnt take your usual seat beside Enoch, but doesn’t mention it out loud. After the reset you head back to your room and immerse yourself in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Your lace nightgown drapes down your body in silky waves.

Your shoulders are tensed, your feet tapping nervously. You’re used to Mary’s porcelain feet dancing across the hardwood floors, her tiny giggles as she looks at herself in the mirror. Usually at this time of night, you and the doll will lay awake in the dark, huddled under your ruffled pink comforter, and whisper to each other. It’s the only way you can go to sleep— Enoch had made her to help with your nightmares, after all. Your nightmares of children with no heads, monsters that pluck out children’s eyes in their sleep. Your nightmares of losing the people you love.

How could he be so cruel?

That anger flares up again. With a forceful hand, you slam the book down onto your desk and stalk across the hallway. Your knuckles rap against Enoch’s door ferociously, and when he finally opens it you force your way into his room with curses spilling off of your tongue.

“I don’t understand, Enoch!” Your wings seem to glow a dusty red hue from your rage. “I’m nothing but nice to you! I help you with your experiments, I try to be your friend, but at this point I don’t know if anyone could ever..“

You stop dead in your tracks. Enoch’s eyes dart to his work table, as if he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. You look across to it.

There, sitting happily, all fixed up, is Mary.

She has a smile on her painted face, and a new dress adorning her. Shes cleaned, polished, and almost looks brand new. All the cracks that were once on her porcelain skin have vanished.

“[y/n]!” The doll giggles excitedly, saying your name in words only you can hear. “Look what Enoch made for me! Isn’t it pretty?”

You gape as Mary happily twirls in her dress. Enoch clears his throat.

“She was filthy,” he mutters. “You should really start cleaning your things. It tracks dirt and grass all over the house.”

Turning to him, your stomach racks with guilt.

“You fixed her for me?”

He shrugs, avoiding your gaze, acting nonchalant.

“I’ve been meaning to for a while. It was quite annoying, watching her face caked with dirt everyday. And her dress was practically torn to shreds.”

You pick Mary up from the table, holding her in the palms of your hands. You press a kiss to her hair. The doll yawns.

“I’m tired,” she mumbles. “Can’t we sleep now?”

“In a moment,” you reply. “Why don’t you go to my room and wait up for me?”

She looks between you and Enoch, does that off putting giggle that would make anyone else uncomfortable, but not you. She hops down from your fingertips, and skips away to your room across the hall.

You hear Enoch’s bedroom door close behind you once she’s gone, and jump. The familiar raven haired boy brushes past you, taking a seat in his chair. His curls fall into his face, and usually you would move them away while he silently grumbled at you not to touch them. But right now, it’s different. You rock on the balls of your feet as silence fills the dark space.

“Enoch—“ you start, but the boy picks up a scalpel and throws one of his toys onto the table.

“I need the jar of hearts on the third shelf.”

It’s all he says, and you know that this is his way of saying he’s sorry. It’s an odd way, but it’s a way you’ve picked up on continuously. The boy doesn’t have the mouth to utter an apology, so he just brings things back to normal instead.

You scamper over to the shelves, picking out the jar he wanted, and sit it down beside him. A small smile grazes your lips, and you sit on the chair that he had put there just for you. He works silently, and his bottom lip pulls in between his teeth. You think it’s quite enamoring— sort of like your books.

Your mouth can’t seem to contain itself, and within minutes you’re speaking up again.

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m sorry. I should’ve—“

“It’s my fault,” he replies. “I…I shouldn’t have came off so brash.”

Without thinking, your hand brushes up against his.

“It’s alright,” you explain. “I forgive you, even though you haven’t said you’re sorry. But I know you are.”

He pauses. He can’t help but trail his eyes down to where your hands meet. You smile up at him, and he adjusts in his seat.

You kiss him.

You don’t know why you do, exactly. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, like you’re something special. But your lips meet, and it’s sweet. Innocent, really— a small peck. His eyes are wide when you pull away from him.

“What was that?” He asks.

Your wings turn baby pink, and a grin spreads across your face.

“I just felt like it.”

[zelcii]

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 😿😿

[phoenixnewton]

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.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Finally, Always, & Forever ~Dark!Miss Peregrine xFem Immortal!Reader

@athenodora-sulpicia-writer Request- Miss Peregrine; If you do can you write a one shot with the numbers, 2, 60 and 62 from your Mummy Masterlist all for a female reader/character? And if you write it about Miss Peregrine can you make it dark Miss P?

Hey @athenodora-sulpicia-writer !! Thanks for the request and your patience 😊 I had fun researching Miss P and now I’m happy to say that I can write for her! I got some inspiration from @valentineisrotting on this one 🙃 And I also found a Stela Cole song to go along with it! To me, Love Like Mine appeals to the dark and sacrificial nature of Miss P’s love in this plus the “I’m so good that I’ll make you wanna stay up” line😫 (and much more but that’s the main point). Hope you Enjoy 💋

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#2. “Be a good girl and tie yourself to the bed posts”

#60. “You broke the rules…”

#62. “I might do something I’ll regret…”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, little angst, little fluff, forbidden love (sort of but not really), kissing, eating out, fingering, punishment, overstimulation, gagging, mistress kink, praise kink, implied degrading kink, implied age gap (all legal), etc.

Enjoy (;

She’d told you to never visit. Not that she didn’t want you to… Hell, she longed for you to. No, because she was afraid they’d catch you.

See, you had what the scientists longed for… True Immortality. That was your peculiarity. You weren’t a simple child anymore, and if had gotten harder and harder to conceal with time. So out of preservation of both your lives, Alma had forbid you from coming to see her in her loops. It was letters only.

But once you’d heard of her loop nearly being damn near destroyed… You couldn’t help the urge to run into the arms of your lover to see if all was well.

You had heard from a friend that Miss Peregrine and her peculiar children had found a new home near New Zealand. So you travelled there and lo and behold, you found the rumored loop and house corresponding with it. You entered and walked through the front gate.

And next to the front door, talking to one of her children, stood the one and only, Alma Peregrine. You suddenly felt all childish again. You’d broken her only rule. But you didn’t care enough about that right now.

As you stood there from afar, mouth agape at your lover, Alma sensed something in the air had changed. You had started to walk up the front path to the house, when her gaze caught yours. A myriad of emotions washed over face.

Anger. Sadness. Pure joy. A little lust…?

As you walked up the house steps, Alma sent her child inside.

Before she could say anything, you began, “I know you told me… not to come… but…” you found yourself a stuttering mess, “but then I heard about you almost getting killed…?! And I just thought that I needed to know you were alright…”

Your gaze met hers as you hit your lips and blushed, unsure what she would do. Suddenly, it was like something broke inside the raven haired goddesses eyes. You gasped lightly as you were suddenly in her tight embrace.

“I was so worried for you…” she whispered.

Your eagerly returned her hug. Her lips peppering kisses all over your face and neck.

“Me? I was worried for you… Are you safe now…?” You whispered.

She nodded and pulled away slightly, growing more distant all of a sudden. Her gaze becoming darker.

“Love…?”

“Even though we’re safe now… You still broke the rules, my dear…”

Your breath hitched slightly. Light blush crept up your cheeks as you apprehensively nodded in recognition of your disobedience.

“I might do something I’ll regret…” She warily warned you.

Afterall, she hadn’t seen you in ages. And now she was getting a chance to lay hands on you once more. At her full Control. She wanted to check in with you first.

“I don’t care.” You whispered, “Use me. Fuck me. Edge me. I’m yours.”

At that, she smirked and nodded, her hand crept up your shoulder, as she brought her lips to the shell of your ear.

“Second floor, last door on the right…” she husked, “Be a good girl and tie yourself to the bed posts…”

Your breath hitched yet again.

“Yes mistress…” you whimpered, scurrying into the house and up the stairs.

You didn’t even register to explain your presence to her children, whom you passed along the way. Luckily, Alma had you covered on that front. As you stripped and dug around her closet for her signature black lace ties, Alma explained to her children a bit about you and your presence here.

When she came into her room, you were struggling in tying your second wrist to the bedposts. You’d already ties both your feet and your left wrist. The raven haired beauty chuckled lightly, and shutting the door, she came over to you.

“Let me help you, dear…” she purred, easily tying your wrist to the bedpost.

You and she both knew this was the nicest she was going to get tonight. After that, her tone and gaze went straight dark. The kind of darkness that made your thighs clench and your breath shallow… She then moved to the edge of the bed, taking in your entire form.

“You broke the rules…” she repeated, this time with an sharp edge to her tone.

You gulped.

“I did, mistress.” You whimpered, squirming under your restraints.

She hummed in satisfaction of your recognition.

“I haven’t touched you in ages…” she wickedly purred, licking her lips.

Even after all this time, it wasn’t hard to remember that she liked verbal answers…

“No, you haven’t, mistress…” you breathily whimpered.

“Safe words?”

“Green for good, yellow for pause, red for stop, and three taps for stop if I can’t speak.”

The raven haired woman hummed in recognition and then began stripping in front of you without another word. You whimpered lightly at the sight of her body, adorning a jaw-dropping sleek, black lingerie set. Your little sounds did not go unnoticed by the other woman. She then climbed on the bed, crawling on top of you.

“You’ll have to be quiet. I won’t have the children hearing your leud sounds.” She warned, “I will gag you if you can’t keep those pretty lips closed.”

You nodded vigorously, pursing your lips together tightly.

~~~

You knew she would punish you for breaking her rules, but fuck…

Why did she have to be so fucking skilled at it…?!

Her tongue dipped into your precious cunt tasting the juices of yet another orgasm which she had pulled out of you. You were a shaking, stuttering mess, who was desperately trying to stay quiet. But your head fell back in pure bliss as her tongue slotted itself inside your core once more.

“Fuck yessssss…” you hissed, tugging on your restraints.

At this, Alma cocked her head up and removed her tongue fully from your heated center. You hit back the whimper which was bound to try and escape you. The raven haired goddess then got up without another word and grabbed your knickers, shoving them in your mouth and effectively gagging you.

~~~

The stamina of this woman, you couldn’t…

She’d been bringing you over the edge for hours, punishing you with the double edged sword of overstimulation. One particular lick to your sensitive and puffy clit, sent you spiraling and spasming. Your back arched and you screamed into your knickers in response.

“Yes, sweet girl, I know your mistresses tongue feels so good. But why are you crying, sweet thing…?” She taunted.

She wasn’t wrong… Your mascara was running down your face. All from the pure utter, overstimulating bliss the woman as bringing you.

“You asked for this when you decided to break the rules…” she wickedly purred, attaching her hot mouth to your clit and sucking harshly.

A desperate cry of painful pleasure left your throat.

“Is this too much for you…?” She taunted, attaching her mouth back quickly on your clit.

You nodded vigorously, pulling tightly against your ties, your body spasming at her touch. But she firmly held your thighs for her easy access.

“That’s odd… look at how your dripping on my tongue…” She chuckled wickedly.

You let out a particularly desperate whine, which was easily muffled by your make shift gag.

“But that’s ok, sweet thing…” She lustfully purred, “If you keep crying like that your mistress will let you cum in her mouth however many times you’d like…”

New tears of pleasure streamed down your face as she brought you to yet another climax, leaving your throat sore and your legs trembling.

“My pretty crybaby…” she cooed while cleaning you up only to go down on your dripping cunt once more.

~~~

Aftercare was a staple for Alma. So when she was done with you, she gently scooped your fragile form up and carried you to her bathtub. She ran the water and then promptly joined you, making sure to live on you and clean you up proper. Then, the two of you snuggled in the water for a while. You nuzzled into her form lovingly.

“Missed you so much…” you murmered into the crook of her neck.

“I missed you too…” Alma whispered, kissing your nose affectionately, “You don’t ever have to leave again, my Dear…”

“I’m yours. Always and Forever…” you murmured, drifting off into a light slumber in Alma’s arms.

~~~

[sam1kath]

Raven Hair and Emerald Eyes

(book! Miss Peregrine x Fem! Reader)

I hope you'll enjoy it!! :D

You have been in the loop for many years now, yet you could still vividly remember the day you saw it for the first time. Stepping your foot on the island was no accident. You were a long time in search of a home, and when finally one day an ymbryne offered you a place as a sort of assistant, you couldn’t contain your excitement and hit the road as soon as you packed your only bag. However, there was one issue. You had a terrible sense of orientation, and the brief set of instructions about its location scared you. You trailed the island far and wide, getting lost on multiple occasions, yet you still couldn’t find the entrance.

One day, however, when you were once again unsuccessfully returning to the shore to catch the last ferry off the island, a tall blond girl about 17 stopped you with a smile.

“Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Miss Peregrine has been expecting you. Come with me.”

From that day on you became a new inhabitant of the 1940 Cairnholm loop. The children warmed up to you instantly, and even Enoch—who you later learnt didn’t usually extend this courtesy to just anyone—was delighted by your presence.

The headmistress and ymbryne of the loop, a woman of disting Victorian appearance and raven hair, greeted you with open arms, if not as familiarly, keeping the kind of professional distance you’d have with a new co-worker. Even after months of living there, it was always ‘Miss Y/L/N here’ and ‘Miss Y/L/N there’.

It was your 14th month in the loop that she finally proposed a first-name basis kind of relationship and this offer didn’t extend to situations in front of the children up until a few months ago.

The peregrine was a peculiar woman in many ways—she intrigued you—and you realised all too late that you were slowly falling for her. It was the way she smiled when she thought that no one was watching, how her eyes lit up when she taught the children, the way she would gently pull on the sleeves of her dresses when she was nervous, or the passion with which she fiercely protected her children whenever a policeman knocked on their door with a complaint.

With each day, you fell deeper and deeper into the tangled depths of affection, and that scared you.

One evening, you got into a passionate discussion about the passage of time and age, and she casually mentioned she was born in the late 1870s. At that time, you believed this knowledge was of no special meaning to you since you were used to the birthdates of people around you going as far back as the 1500s. But as your admiration grew, you realised that this information might just signify a problem.

You didn’t know a lot about history, but the topic of acceptance of homosexual people and relationships was something you were quite familiar with. The late 19th century certainly wasn’t a time when you could openly confess your love for another woman, and you feared that growing up in such a time, Alma might share the same convictions. If you weren’t hesitant about sharing your feelings before, you were surely not going to find it easy now, so you decided to test the waters first.

Finally, the perfect day arrived. The children were playing in the garden; the sun was just in the right spot in the sky, and you summoned the courage to bring the topic up to Alma.

“I read this book recently,” you began, “And it’s quite good. I don't know if you know it. It’s Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf.” Alma replied with a raised eyebrow.

“You do realise that you're asking me if I’ve read one of the greatest works of modernist literature,” she said smugly, and you couldn’t help but blush a little at your clumsy way of approaching the subject.

“Of course, sorry. Well, then I suppose you do remember Clarissa mentioning falling in love with her best friend.” Alma visibly froze at that.

“Yes.”

You felt a lump growing in your throat. “How do you feel about that sort of thing, if I may ask?”

She scanned your face for a moment, her emerald eyes boring deep into yours as if searching for something. The living room felt suddenly too small for the two of you.

“Is there any specific reason you're asking?”

“N-No.” You mentally cursed at the slight stutter in your answer.

Alma finally tore her eyes away, leaving you breathless; however, still awaiting her answer.

“I'm no monster. Why should one’s life be less valid than someone else’s just because they love outside the constraints of our rigid society’s expectations? We are all people, aren’t we? And humanity’s greatest strength is the love we have for one another. Love makes life worth living. If each of us loved just a little more, the world would be a better place.”

As you felt your eyes water, you discovered you were never going to be able to reach the bottom of the ocean of love you felt for this woman, and you weren’t sure you wanted to.

She must have mistaken your silence for unease, so she asked. “Do you hold a different view?”

“No! Birds no. You- You just phrased it beautifully.” You smiled at her, and when you saw her face bloom like a flower, you couldn't help but blush once again.

But as you also learnt the first week in this house, peace never lasts, so before you could reach out and pull a mischievous strand of hair out of her face, little Claire ran into the room.

This conversation warmed your heart for weeks, lighting a spark of hope inside you. Maybe there was some hope for you. But still, you didn’t feel ready to confess your love for her, so you were trying to come up with ways to show her how much she meant to you without saying as much. You would remember any little thing that she told you because what she found interesting you held dear to your heart. You would recommend her books that reminded you of her, collect her favourite flowers to display in vases around the house or shower her with compliments whenever you got the chance.

You were flirting, and she was oblivious to it. Maybe she didn’t realise it or she was just letting you down slowly; you couldn’t tell. Her cheeks would redden each time and she’d go on to say something like, such affections needn’t be shown to her as she looks the same as she does every day, and being a good ymbryne doesn’t have to earn her compliments. To that, you’d respond that she doesn’t get appreciated enough and that would win a bright smile from her.

“And ‘good’ is an understatement.”

In between your duties as an assistant, you would also often spend little bits of free time on the mainland in the city library, scavenging the shelves for books you could read together. Going to the counter with another stack of books, you’d meet the gaze of the new librarian, a man in his early thirties with short blond hair and kind brown eyes. You never talked much besides the pleasantries.

Once you’d get home with the loot, Alma would meet you at the door to help you bring the book into the study.

This has been going on for about six months. You and Alma grew closer each day, but at some point, you’ve come to the sad realisation that she saw you as only a friend. For a time, you lied to yourself, saying it was more than enough for you. However, as the days went by, the beautiful feeling of falling deeper in love with her became a cruel, dragging force that slowly suffocated you.

You needed to escape and that was the time the guy behind the counter first spoke to you beyond politeness. His name was Jonathan, and the two of you quickly bonded over your shared love for astronomy. You would sometimes wait for him at the end of his shift, and you’d have lunch together in the nearby park. He would tell you about his life and family—of how unaccepting his father was when he told him he was bisexual. In turn, you told him how your parents freaked out when they found out you liked women, leaving out the fact that it was in the 1960s. And the more you got to know him, the more you were using him as a way to avoid Alma.

As you were one day in the park again, he turned to you with this strange look in his eyes. He told you he liked you and that even though he knew about your feelings for someone else, he would very much like to go on a date with you even if your heart wasn’t entirely in it—as friends, he said. Then he continued to make a speech about how you shouldn’t stay unhappy forever just because one person doesn’t see how amazing you are. You got teary-eyed and knowing you had no chance with Alma you finally decided to take a step to move on.

“Alma?” You were just in the living room, enjoying your siesta. Alma was seated, or rather, strangely bird-like nestled, in an armchair by the window, reading a book. She tilted her head, her eyes staying on the text to the very last moment before she met your gaze. She was sometimes so much like a bird, and you found every bit endearing.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if I could spend the evening on the mainland,” you said nervously, feeling strangely guilty, like a child lying to their parents about who broke the living room window. She smiled in confusion.

“You know you don’t have to ask. You’re no prisoner, Y/N.” She chuckled lightly. “You know I trust you to make your own decision and keep yourself safe in the process. Just make sure you catch the last ferry back to the island so the children and I don’t have to worry all night,” and with that, her eyes returned to her book.

“Aren’t you curious what I’ll be doing?” Was your absence really that indifferent to her? Alma closed her book with a clap.

“Polite persons aren’t nosy, but if you’re so excited to tell me, then be my guest,” she smiled.

You took a deep breath. “I’ve met someone.”

If her face had betrayed anything you hadn’t noticed—not a single identifiable emotion—yet, as if a dark veil had been drawn over it.

“Oh,” was all she said before returning to her book. You had secretly hoped she’d say more than that.

“It’s a date,” you added in a desperate attempt to get a reaction from her.

“I figured,” she stated simply. Your heart ached at the lack of care, and you made your way to the door.

“Y/N?” You stopped in your tracks. “Enjoy your rendezvous.”

The door slammed behind you.

You met Jonathan in the small city square, and from there you went to ‘the best restaurant in town’ as he called it regardless of the bizarre reality that there was only one.

The date passed in a blur. You sat at a table in the corner of the establishment and ordered wine. Jonathan talked and talked, and you felt terrible that you didn’t pay any attention as, in the gloom of the room his light hair turned dark, and after a few glasses, his eyes turned green, and all you could see was her in her dark Victorian dress, smiling across the table.

When the clock struck nine you finally separated, for a quarter to ten was when the last ferry to the island departed. He insisted on escorting you to the harbor but you rejected his offer as you felt you needed to be alone.

The shipman was a little annoyed that he had to sail to the island with just one passenger, but when you gave him triple the amount needed for one ticket, he stopped fussing.

Your hair moved in the wind as you watched the dark sea, occasionally noticing the dark shadow of one of the many wrecks on the bottom, quietly awaiting saviour. You slightly stretched over the railing, and gazing upon your reflection in the dark waters, you realised you too felt like a wreck. Cold, and alone, and lifeless. Shivers ran down your spine, and you pulled your coat closer around you.

On the island, you stumbled back to the old tomb, grateful you walked the dangerous path so many times that now you knew it well enough to navigate it in the dark. Carefully laying one foot in front of the other, you made your way into the loop entrance.

You found Alma in the living room by the table, leaning over a glass of orange liquid. Her raven hair was cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders, its ends getting lost in the sea of green velvet of her tea gown. She twirled the liquid in her glass before she tilted her head back and emptied it into her throat. Appearing to be greatly troubled, she vigorously rubbed her temples.

Without a second thought, you moved forward in a desperate attempt to comfort her and accidentally bumped your toe into a coffee table. Pain shot through your body, and you swore under your breath.

“You’re back; how wonderful. How was it with that lover of yours?” said Alma with a fake smile plastered on her face.

You slowly walked over to the table, and sank down in a chair across from Alma.

“I presume it didn’t go well?”

“I suppose you could say that, yes.” You met her eyes, and what you saw in them broke you. You couldn’t have seen it from the door, but up close you were certain she had been crying.

“What happened to you?”

“Oh, this. Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” Rubbing her eyes she muttered, ”Would you like some?” and changed the subject by gesturing to her glass.

You decided that you were too overwhelmed with your own turmoil to help hers so you decided to let it slide.

“Might as well.”

She reached for the bottle and filled her glass. Then she slowly slid it towards you. Without a word spoken, you lifted the glass to your lips. The alcohol was already room temperature, but you didn’t mind and let the comfortable burn consume you.

“You never drink whisky.”

“I do now. But that’s not important,” she said, taking the bottle in her hand to look at the label. “I think I hate it,” she added so nonchalantly that you chuckled. Your eyes met.

“I need to tell you something,” both of you blurted out suddenly.

“Please, you go first.”

“I don’t think that’s-”

“Please.”

“Alright,” she replied hesitantly. Straightening her posture and clearing her throat, she reached over the table and caught your hands in hers. Even though it was fairly dark, you still clearly saw that her cheeks were crimson. And as she looked at you and you looked at her, you were sure she wasn’t alone.

“You- You might think me a delusional old woman, but…just yesterday, I would have sworn you fancied me.”

You froze, chills running down your back instantly.

“I know it��s silly. I suppose I saw what I-” she paused, looking at your joined hands.

“Go on. Please,” you squeezed them. Her nervous eyes darted back to yours.

“People see what they want to see,” she began hesitantly. “And I so desperately wanted you to feel the same.”

“W-what do you mean?” She closed her eyes, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Don’t make me say it just so you can reject me.” If you weren’t red before, now you most definitely were. Without giving you a single glance she let go of you and hid her face in her hands.

“You mean you-”

“Yes,” she muttered sharply, flustration lacing her words. The distance between you suddenly felt unbearable.

“You fancy me?” you asked once more in joyous disbelief. Alma slowly sank in her seat lower and lower, her face still hidden in her palms.

“Stop asking,” she whispered.

Your chair screeched as you sharply pushed it from the table, jumping to your feet, and now you stood over Alma.

Finally, she doubtfully looked up, her emerald eyes filled with fear, hope, admiration.

Not waiting for another second, you leaned down, putting one hand on the backrest of her chair for support. As you were now inches away from each other you witnessed Alma’s expression rapidly change. Her face grew redder and her eyes darkened.

“W-what are you doing?” she stammered as you hesitantly stroked her cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked, not being able to contain your smile any longer.

For a moment her eyes darted between yours, checking for any sign of mockery.

And then you felt two hands pulling you down by the collar, and before you realised what was happening, your lips were pressed against hers in a tender kiss.

The wheels of time stopped and it was just you and her. You felt her hands in your hair, the warmth of her body against yours, her hair against your cheek. It felt perfect and real, and it made you feel warm and cared for.

The amount of love with which Alma gazed at you when you pulled away would fill even the deepest ocean—it would reach the furthest star in the galaxy. And you were certain her expression mirrored yours because, right there, you felt the happiest you’ve ever been.

[nyxie-is-peculiar]

If there are peculiar animals and plants, wouldn’t that mean there are other life forms that are peculiar? Like fungi or bacteria?

Also, humans haven’t been around that long in terms of earth’s history. There had likely been peculiar animals for hundreds of millions of years before any peculiar human.

Since the first Ymbryne (according to the Tales) was a bird who would turn into a woman rather than the other way around, perhaps before humans, there were ymbrynes who were just birds all the time.

But birds also existed during the time of the dinosaurs so perhaps there are ancient loops of those prehistoric times!

Someone please write a Jurassic Park/World MPHfPC fanfic!!

[devine-devil]

Tell us about your headcanons, you have enormous creativity

Thank you 🤍

My headcanons are few, and I like to put them in my fanfics.

Lorraine was actually the person who tried to kidnap Emma when she was a child.

When Jack "died in 1908" Myron and Alma had a better brotherly relationship, without Jack's negative influence Myron was not bad with Alma. But this is not beneficial for her, as she receives all the brotherly love that was always denied to her, she truly begins to love her brother, and that is why when he betrays her again it hurts so much. That's why she says that the people we love the most are the ones who hurt us the most.

The one who made Alma's parents kill themselves is Caul himself. Miss Avocet would never approve of Alma visiting her parents, she is aware of what was going to happen and that it was dangerous for Alma, Alma herself does not remember where she came from since she was a baby, so the only people who could have told Alma where her parents were were Myron and Jack, they were older kids and probably remember where they lived. Alma's trip is a failure and later before 1908 Caul also goes to visit his parents, when he is as poorly received as Alma, he revolts, those were his biological parents, the people who should have loved him no matter what, who were good parents in his childhood, Caul's anger is so great that he says his name and uses his selective memory erasure powers to suggest his parents and make them commit "suicide". I like this headcanon so much that I put it in ANE.

Alma has thalassophobia, since her parents' suicide she really doesn't like the sea, so she freaks out with rage when Victor sinks the Cairnholm ferry with her and the children inside, She is afraid that someone she loves and is responsible for will drown. After Golan threw her into the ocean inside a cage, this phobia became even worse.

Miss Avocet blames herself for the existence of the Hollowgasts and what Caul has become. I always wanted to see this old woman admit this in the books, since she didn't I dedicated an entire chapter in ANE to her blaming herself, since she obviously has a large share of the blame. She could have suppressed the ClayWings when they were still harmless, she could have actually arrested them all before 1908, things ended tragically because she was negligent. As leader of the ymbryne council she should have solved the problem while it was still possible to solve it. And nothing convinces me that she never realized that Alma was hurt by Caul SINCE SHE WAS A BABY.

When the children want to leave, Bronwyn always goes with them, even if she doesn't agree with what they're going to do. She does this because she fears that without her they will die just like what happened to Victor, she thinks she needs to be with her friends, that she needs to defend them at all costs, She thinks she has a duty to protect everyone since she couldn't protect her brother.

Whenever the children accidentally kill someone inside the loop in their village-attack games, Miss Peregrine lets Enoch keep the deceased's organs, The past solves the problem, and Enoch gets new toys.

Alma sleeps very little because she is afraid that someone will break into the house during the night, Wights mainly, and because Horace sleepwalks, she has to make sure he doesn't fall down the stairs or jump from the roof of the house while he sleeps.

Nothing tragic happened with Enoch's previous loop, he just didn't fit in there very well and asked for a transfer, it took a long time for them to grant it to him, and when he was given the choice of a new loop to live in, Miss Peregrine's loop seemed perfect by Enoch's standards. It's a secluded island, with a pleasant climate for Enoch, with few people, and many animals for him to take the organs and a relatively permissive ymbryne.

The engine of the panloopticon has always been a living person, so the engine is a human-sized compartment filled with anesthetic gas, and that's why Bentham kidnapped people to try to turn the panloopticon back on.

The panloopticon's engine works like a gigantic Hemodialysis machine, taking blood from a hollow and making that same blood connect all the ports and return to the hollow's body. Bentham can't let his engine die right away so this process is very quick, but very painful and since it takes a long time for hollows to starve to death Bentham had found a perfect new engine.

Bentham and Marion once had a relationship but, as is obvious, it was toxic and ended very quickly.

Claire is also a baby and was born with a second mouth without teeth, obviously she was rejected and Alma saved her, that's why she acts as if Alma was her mother, Alma is the only mother figure she has ever known, the only one who has ever cared for her.

All the children started to age after TDODA.

Caul and Bentham have all the secondary abilities of the ymbrynes such as being able to sense peculiarities and erase memories, and obviously transform into a bird, they just didn't inherit the temporal abilities.

Benny's ghost lives in his mansion as a guardian of the panloopticon.

Well I think that's it, if I create new headcanons I'll post about them.

[marygih]

Fiona

⚠��� TDODA SPOILERS

"Fiona and the hollow were forty or fifty feet apart and facing each other like duelists. Fiona stood with her feet spread and her hands poised in the air like an orchestra conductor before the first notes of a symphony"

I love Fiona's perfect duality between being a very cute, nice and friendly girl, and being extremely powerful and brave. One thing doesn't eliminate the other, it's the combination of these things that makes her such a cool character. She can be very cute petting her chickens and very protective and gentle staying in the fauna loop to care for the sick Claire. Fiona defended her home and her friends, she is extremely powerful and that is undeniable. She is simply incredible, a complete character.

[metaphoricallymagpie]

The Bentham siblings are so rare

In DoDA, when the gang is going to visit miss Hawksbill, it is mentioned how rare it is that siblings are both peculiar, let alone that they are both ymbrynes.

So, their parents basically won the peculiar lottery three times in a row. They got an ymbryne, a demi-ymbryne, and another peculiar

Speaking of Myron, what is his peculiarity? I'm tempted to think that he's also a demi-ymbryne who couldn't transform anymore because of the torture by Caul, but we literally never find out. Do any of you have any hcs?

[stanzo75]

WHY DO PEOPLE WRITE SMUT OF ENOCH FROM THE BOOKS ISNT HE LIKE 12????? SAME WITH PEOPLE SHIPPING CLAIRE AND ENOCH FROM THE MOVIE??? WTF???

[frost-queen]

A cat's way (Reader x Enoch O'Connor ft. the cat)

Requested by: @puppysjy ,Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

A/n: The cat has been changed to a male cause I thought it would be funnier.

Enoch sighed relieved seeing you sit alone by the tree. To be absolutely sure he looked around. Up and down hoping he wouldn’t encounter him. Behind him were Hugh and Fiona playing tag. Claire trying her best to join. Just a bit to his left he saw Olive helping Emma put the squirrel back up in the tree. Yet no annoying thing to be seen. Enoch plastered on a charming smile ready to make his way over to you. He took about three steps till he heard the annoying voice. – “Looking for me?” – Enoch turned his head upwards seeing the cat slide down a branch coming in view.

Enoch’s smile dropped, sighing deep. – “In your dreams furball.” – Enoch mocked back. The cat hissed loud dropping down in front of him. He came to sit down licking his paws. Enoch rolled his eyes at it, moving to go around it. The cat jumped aside blocking his path. It made Enoch groan annoyed, stepping more to the right.

The cat once again blocked his path to you. – “Let me through you furball!” – Enoch called out bothered. The cat licked his paw, then washed it behind his ear. – “If you say please.” – The cat answered plainly. It made Enoch boil, clenching his hand. – “Like hell!” – Enoch called out. The cat shuddered out a chuckle. – “See you getting all worked up over me.” – he responded.

“Y/n!” – Enoch called out having enough of his interruption. You jerked your head in his direction. – “Y/n!” – Enoch repeated waving his arms at you. The cat hissed loud jumping at him. Enoch stumbled backwards onto his back. The cat sitting on his chest. – “Get off!” – Enoch groaned out, wriggling to get the cat off him. The cat hissed again at him, pressing his paw firm onto his chest. – “Mister Fluffzpants.” – you said.

Instantly the cat turned to you, squinting its eyes to give you the sweetest expression. You bend down to pick your cat up. – “Are you playing with Enoch?” – you asked as you moved it close to your chest. Mr. Fluffzpants purred, snuggling his head against you. Enoch moved his upper body up. – “That thing is ferocious.” – he called out with a point. – “Mr. Fluffzpants?” – you answered confused looking down at your sweetest cat.

You pulled him up, pressing his cheek against yours. – “Look at him. He’s the cutest thing ever.” – you said as the cat purred against your cheek. The moment it stared down at Enoch disappeared all signs of cuteness. – “See!” – Enoch said desperately. You walked up to Enoch, offering him your hand. He took it letting you pull him up. You started brushing some dirt off him.

“There all better.” – you said. – “Y/n I…” – Enoch started taking your hand. – “Yes…” – you replied. – “Au!” – Enoch blurted out pulling his hand away from you. Your eyes widened seeing the scratch marks on his hand. – “Mr. Fluffzpants!” – you called out looking sternly at the cat. – “That wasn’t very nice.”

You dropped the cat onto the ground. – “Hey!” – it called out feeling tossed away. – “Oh Enoch does it hurt?” – you asked taking his wounded hand gently into yours. Enoch tried to hide his smile of victory. You carefully touched it as Enoch flinched at the touch. – “He’s exaggerating.” – Mr. Fluffzpants called out. Enoch shook his head trying so hard not to show he actually was. – “Hush Mr. Fluffzpants.” – you said with a dismissive glare.

Enoch stuck his tongue out to the cat behind your back. The cat hissed as you hardened your glare. Mr. Fluffzpants laid down begging for forgiveness. – “Let me tend to you Enoch.” – you spoke taking him with you back to the house. Mr. Fluffzpants got up, narrowing his eyes on Enoch. – “You better sleep with one eye open boy.” – he purred out. He then ran after you as he barely left your side.

You led Enoch inside the pink manor darting out of the way of a running Bronwyn and Horace rushing down the stairs. You crossed over heading into the kitchen. You sat Enoch down by his shoulders on a chair. – “Does it hurt much?” – you asked looking in some cabinets for bandages. Enoch was about to speak when Mr. Fluffzpants hopped onto the counter. He glared at Enoch, tilting his head to the side. Enoch gulped nervously.

“Uhm...not so much anymore.” – he answered. You found some bandages noticing Mr. Fluffzpants. – “You behave.” – you said. – “As always.” – he answered lowering his head in a bow. You cleaned his wound and put a bandage on it. – “Perhaps a kiss?” – Enoch said boldly offering you his hand. – “Perhaps not.” – Mr. Fluffzpants called out. You smiled touching Enoch’s nose. – “You are teasing me.” – you spoke as Enoch smiled nervously at his missed opportunity.

You rubbed Mr. Fluffzpants on his head before heading out. – “I’d watch your back O’Connor.” – The cat said showing him his claws. Enoch puffed loud. – “You better watch yours furball!” – he responded getting up. – “When you are dead I’ll toy with your body for funs.” – Enoch called out before darting out of the kitchen.

The cat gasped loud. – “You foul monster!” – Mr. Fluffzpants shouted dipping down the counter onto the ground. – “I shall have your eyes scratched out. Playing with your guts like a ball of wool!” – he shouted standing in the hallway. Miss Peregrine who had just left her study, cleared her throat. Mr. Fluffzpants chuckled nervously, dipping his head down. Miss Peregrine watched him run off like a scaredy cat. On his way he knocked over a jar. It crashed down, glass shattering around.

The cat gasped loud, stopping briefly in his tracks with a raised paw. Miss Peregrine’s eyebrow rose higher. The cat rushed up the stairs. Darting between Millard’s walking shoes. Millard nearly tripped over the cat. Mr. Fluffzpants kept looking over his shoulder hoping Miss Peregrine wouldn’t follow him. He jumped into a room, jumping onto Enoch’s lap. – “What are you doing?” – Enoch called out. – “She’s coming.” – he said scared plopping of his lap. – “I need hiding.” – Mr. Fluffzpants rushed through his room towards the shelves.

Enoch got up moving over to his shelves. – “No! Get out!” – he called out trying to catch the cat by his tail as it jumped from shelf to shelf. Enoch’s eyes widened as one of his jars toggled over. He was able to catch it in time making him sigh relieved. Mr. Fluffzpants jumped on Enoch hearing footsteps in the corridor. – “Who is it?” – Enoch asked feeling the cat’s tail draped over his shoulder. – “The bird.” – he whispered lowering himself.

“Miss P.” – Enoch gasped out as the cat hid in his sweater. Enoch squirmed as it tickled him. Mr. Fluffzpants moved to his back, grabbing onto his shirt underneath his sweater. There was a knock on Enoch’s door as it made them both gasp. The door opened as Enoch and the cat feared the worst. – “Hi Enoch.” – Enoch sighed relieved as it was only Olive. – “Hi Olive.” – he responded pulling his sweater open by his back. – “Now get off!” – Enoch insisted wiggling his back to get the cat off. Olive stared confused at the display.

She blinked confused when Mr. Fluffzpants dropped onto the ground. The cat hissed at Enoch. – “I saved your catty life!” – he called out. Mr. Fluffzpants bowed his head. It then rushed out of the room past Olive. – “Are you two getting along?” – she asked curious. – “No.” – Enoch responded loudly. – “Not even a little bit?” – she continued sweetly. – “We are not friends.” – Enoch declared. Mr. Fluffzpants made his way to your room as you were there to his surprise.

“Oh where have you been.” – you asked as the cat jumped onto your nightstand. – “You don’t want to know.” – he answered. He lifted his head up as you scratched his neck. – “Do you want a belly rub Mr. Fluffzpants?” – you asked. The cat hopped onto your lap, rolling over. – “You don’t have to say that twice.” – he purred moving a bit with his paws. You smiled rubbing his belly. You sighed soft staring into the distance. Mr. Fluffzpants rolled over, setting his paw against your chest, standing upright.

“What is it owner.” – he asked curious. You gave him a faint smile as he already knew what you were thinking off. – “Don’t think of that boy.” – he called out patting your nose with his soft paw. – “I can’t help it.” – you answered. – “You have me. You needn’t need anyone else. Never had.” – Mr. Fluffzpants reminded you. – “I know… but having Enoch around makes me feel something Fluffz.” – you answered. Mr. Fluffzpants lowered itself on your lap once more. Claire came knocking on your door telling you that diner was ready. After diner were you outside.

Walking a bit around as Mr. Fluffzpants was near you. Guarding you like he always had. He jumped, narrowing his eyes. – “Not a chance.” – he said to Enoch, stopping him from taking another step. Enoch sighed deep. – “Let me have a moment with her.” – he begged. – “No!” – Mr. Fluffzpants answered grumpy. – “I…you owe me for letting you hide from Miss P!” – Enoch let out to blackmail the cat. The cat turned his head rudely. – “That was hardly any saving. It was only Olive.” – he answered dismissively.

Enoch smirked. – “Then you wouldn’t mind me telling Miss P where you are so she can have you clean up your mess.” – he expressed with vanity. The cat remained silent looking anxious around. – “What cat caught your tongue?” -   Enoch pressed on. The cat gave him a side-eye for such a stupid comment. Then it sighed loud, sitting down. – “Fine, but only because you please my owner.” – he said, tail swishing over the grass.

“Thank you.” – Enoch said. – “Don’t mention it.” – Mr. Fluffzpants answered. Enoch walked passed the cat over to you. The cat turned watching from afar how Enoch met up with you. Seeing the joy in your eyes upon seeing him. – “Perhaps not so bad after all.” – he muttered with a smile. – “What was that cat?” – Mr. Fluffzpants meowed loud jumping out of his skin.

Panting he looked up to seeing Olive suddenly stand by him. – “Nothing!” – he groaned out annoyed. Olive bend down to him. – “Don’t worry I won’t tell a soul.” – she winked knowing the two of them warming up to each other. Olive left as Mr. Fluffzpants laid himself down in the grass, keeping a watchful eye on you from afar. Just like he always had.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[arriansarchive]

Enoch O'Connor/Horace Somnusson

RAAAAAH 🔥🔥💥💥 The story has been decided

Honestly, enorace is probably my favorite ship..

It and jillard switch out every now and then

Love them both though

Set in Jacob's house after the third book since that's my favorite setting of all time

Can you tell I'm American by the dialogue???

Didn't know how to end it sooo forgetful Enoch I guess

EDIT... I READ THIS ON MY CHROMEBOOK AND I SWEEEEEEAR TO ALL PC READERS THAT THE NUMBERS WERE CENTERED

Summary: One Enoch tried to give Horace a gift and one time he succeeded.

-0-

It was a cold night in the broom closet where Enoch chose to stay in Jacob's gigantic house. The blankets were crowding him, and he just needed to escape.

Jacob had told him that the basement was also a place that he could go to work on his homunculi. Climbing out of the nest of blankets and pillows he had made, Enoch opened the door slowly.

He listened closely for any sign of footsteps and came up clear. His socked feet padded on the wooden floors. He was used to living in a space with toys all over the floor, so it was a relief not to have to watch where he stepped.

Now, Enoch didn't really want to work on his homunculi per say. He actually wanted to work on a gift that he had been conjuring up in his mind for a while.

Birthdays hadn't been celebrated for centuries in their original home with Miss Peregrine; but now that it was the present and all their clocks were reset, they could finally have the glory of birthday parties.

It was March third. March fifth was his.. something's, Horace Somnusson's, birthday. He supposed that Horace thought that Enoch was his best friend; he certainly acted so, but Enoch thought something more. Something he could never say.

So, obviously, he was going to make Horace a gift. Stupid, stupid Horace who always got red in the face whenever Enoch did something for him. Enoch didn't understand one bit why he couldn't just take the generosity and laugh at it. Meanly.

He never understood kindness or generosity until he met Horace, anyway. The boy had so much love to give, even to Enoch, that it was sickening. That's why he was trying to repay the ugly gift.

He downed the stairs two at a time, trying to get down quickly but silently. Nobody could catch him making a gift; he'd never hear the end of it.

He quietly opened the basement door, creeping past various sets of tools and the damaged car that they still hadn't replaced after they sent Jacob's parents on vacation. It's not like they planned to let them come back.

"Finally." Enoch whispered, coming to an empty work bench.

He pulled materials out of his pocket which consisted of: black fabric, white fabric, some random assortment of sewing materials from Jacob's mom's room, clay, and a flower. Oh, and a mouse's heart. Just the essentials.

He stumbled with the fabrics, poking himself with the needles a few times, but it got done nonetheless. He held it up with two fingers carefully. A small, horribly sewn suit that was made to fit on a homunculus.

Yes, that's right, his gift to Horace was going to be one of his little army men. Enoch grabbed a random cardboard box beside him and shoved the little man into it, closing the box hurriedly.

"Perfect." He chuckled with wiggling fingers.

Enoch decided he was going to give this gift to Horace tomorrow, so it could be more special than his other gifts. Jealous, yes, but it would pay off.

Now, he just had to wait.

-1-

Enoch woke up and cracked his neck from lying his head on the desk all night. He hasn't even realized he fell asleep. The banging from the cardboard box he shut last night blew him back to reality.

It's time for the gift of his life.

He trudged up the stairs, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The box was thudding around in his hands; it wobbled him slightly. He spotted Horace in Jacob's kitchen, some of the others standing around him, hovering over the food.

Enoch stopped in the next room over, tapping his foot on the ground as he tried to find out a way to get Horace alone. A slow, evil smile spread on his face whenever he thought of his idea.

Reaching his hand out to the vase beside him, he knocked it over loudly. He suppressed a chuckle and his behind the corner, knowing Horace would come and check it out.

"What was that?" He heard a fiery, female voice ask.

"I'll go check it out. It is my house, after all." An uncertain voice said.

But it wasn't a good uncertain voice. It wasn't Horace. It was Jacob!

Jacob came into the room, and his eyes narrowed when he saw the vase, almost as of he knew that Enoch had been the one to knock it over.

Immediately rounding the corner, he spotted Enoch against the wall, looking guilty. Jacob huffed and crossed his arms.

"Really, Enoch?" He paused to run his temples, "What is wrong with you? What is that box?"

Enoch scowled and looked around the room to avoid Jacob's eyes, clutching the box tighter in his arms.

"It's a bunch of organs that I'm going to spread around your pillow tonight if you don't buzz off!" He spat angrily.

Jacob rolled his eyes, pointing the the banging box. "Whatever you say, but I don't think organs do that."

Enoch jerked the box away from Jacob's accusing finger and walked away, clambering up the stairs to his broom closet. He'll store his gift in there tomorrow. His gift will just have to be normal, he guessed.

-2-

Enoch sighed, grabbing the box out from its hiding place on one of the shelves in the broom closet and prepared to bring in down to Horace's room. He had one last chance to make his gift special.

He would give it to him before anyone in the house woke up.

Quietly closed the door and shushed the little homunculus in the suit before padding quietly down the hallway in his cartoon socks that used to be Jacob's.

Horace's room was on the right next to the bathroom. Enoch entered quietly, hoping he wouldn't be asleep.

Much to his delight, Horace say on the side of his bed as he looked in the mirror, fixing his hair. It was tussles, and he looked a mess, but something in Enoch really liked that mess.

"Hey!" Enoch whispered, crossing the room swiftly.

Horace jumped and looked at Enoch with a hand on his chest. "You had me petrified, Enoch! You need not do that ever again."

"I need not do a lot of things that I do."

Horace rolled his eyes, but he stopped whenever he saw the box that was thudding from the inside that's in Enoch's arms. His eyebrows raised slightly as he pointed to it.

"Are there organs in there?" Horace asked.

"I don't think organs do that." Enoch shrugged. "But it is for you."

Horace smiled and stood up from his bed. He took the box from Enoch, caressing the side. He had such a sincere smile on his face that it made Enoch want to puke.

Horace opened the box, and the grin got even wider. It seemed like it would stretch from ear to ear. He put his hand in the box, pulling out the fancy homunculus.

His cheeks got all rosy, and it made Enoch scowl even harder. The little homunculus wrapped it's little arms around Horace's long fingers in a hug.

"It's so cute, Enoch! I love him." Horace cooed.

Enoch rolled his eyes fondly. "I suppose you've already named him?"

"Not yet, but I definitely will." Horace giggled.

He giggled!

Enoch coughed a little to hide the smile that was spreading across his face unwillingly. Seeing Horace so happy had made something in his presumed dead heart start to flutter.

Horace looked Enoch in the eyes, and his grin lowered into a calm, still happy smile. "You know, despite your outward look on life, you're quite the romantic."

Enoch's eyes widened.

Oh yeah, he forgot. Horace has asked him out five days ago. Somehow he was always forgetting.

[zelcii]

half-loved | millard nullings

light angst, estabished relationship

you find him in the library, his usual haunt, surrounded by books and scribbled notes. millard is half-buried in the pages, his translucent skin almost glowing under the dim light. the sight would’ve made you smile once. now, it only makes your chest burn.

"millard," you call, your voice barely more than a whisper. he doesn’t look up, doesn’t even flinch. you’re like a ghost in this room, far more invisible than he was.

"yes, my love?" his tone is distant and slightly irritated, like you’re an interruption rather than what he called you. his love.

you step closer, fingers tracing the spines of the books on the shelf next to you. "we need to talk."

millard finally glances up, each movement tired, shadowed. "can it wait? i’m rather busy at the moment." he was always busy. the way he shifted so sluggishly might have urged you to tell him to rest, but you always knew he wouldn't listen.

"no," you say firmly. "it can’t."

he sighs, closing his book with slow, deliberate movement. "alright then, what’s so urgent?"

you take a deep breath, the words you’ve been rehearsing for days finally finding their way past your lips. "you promised we'd grow together. but not only are we no longer growing are we neither together for most of the day."

he blinks, confusion creasing his forehead. he couldn't understand the pain and frustration in your voice. or rather what it stemmed from. "i don’t understand—"

"no, you don’t," you interrupt, anger flaring up in your chest. "you never have. you’re so wrapped up in your studies, in yourself, that you no longer see me."

millard feels his face fall, but there’s still that distance in his silhouette, like he’s watching this from a thousand miles away. "that’s not fair."

"fair?" you laugh, a bitter sound that cuts through the air. "i don't think it's fair you keep yourself locked away all day, i don't think it's fair that you're never eager to see me and i definately do not think it's fair that not once in the last twenty years that i've endured you have you said the words 'i love you.'"

he flinches at your words, his mouth opening and closing like he’s searching for something to say, something to make this better. but there’s nothing. there’s just the truth, hanging between you like a shroud.

"i've said 'i love you'," he stated finally, and for the first time, he's unsure of himself. "haven't i?"

you scoff. he's there staring silently. you can't even tell if he's still looking at you. "i am far too full of life to only be half-loved."

there’s a long silence, the weight of your words settling in the space between you. millard looks down at his hands, his shoulders slumping. "i… i didn’t realize…"

"i know," you say softly. "but that changes nothing."

your heart is heavy. this is the first time in a very long time you've had his full attention. it's tempting. it could have compelled you to take it all back. but you knew better.

"i'm sorry... i never meant to hurt you," he speaks softly. there's an earnest in the way he reaches for your hand. a charm in the way his other hand cups the side of your face and a comfort in the way you lean into him touch.

you pause, just for a moment, looking at him the same way you used to. your head tilted, staring at him as if there was something worth looking at. "i wish sorry was enough."

[ambersweets134]

Omg I'm posting a short story for the first time

I wrote it around 4 in the morning so it might be a bit bad but oh well

Comfort in your arms

Perekoo fanfic

*some spoilers*

~~~~~~

Alma had just got back to the building where her wards and her were supposed to be settled it, Isabel having fixed them space to stay there. She tried not to think much of Jacob or her children, knowing that wherever they were, she hoped they were alright.

Alma was already late to the meeting she was supposed to host, her mind too stuck on so many situations and issues that could occur with her wards loose in America. For birds sake, there was already warnings of a war possibly occurring.

Her cane echoed in the dark hallway of the building, her limp seeming worse today than the past few weeks. The older woman felt her heart racing, too much on her mind. Despite being asleep for so long that morning, she still felt so incredibly tired and she felt guilty for being so. Her wards were lost- possibly even trapped somewhere- and here she was feeling tired.

With a huff, she leaned against the wall, leaning down and slowly sitting down on the floor of the dark office. A dull pain in her ankle began and spread up her leg, the ymbryne feeling even worse about herself when she felt tears return to her eyes. She's been trying so so hard to keep her wards safe. Jacob was there and with him being Abe's grandson, she needed his help, but like this? The last thing she wanted was them to be running birds knows where and that's exactly what they did. During a possible war. In America.The press was awful with questioning them all, on top of that there were still people who could cause them harm and it drove Miss Peregrine insane that she wasn't there to stop them. To protect them. She failed her main duty as a ymbryne: to keep her children safe. Now they were gone. She didn't know whether they would return or not. All because she slept longer than she should have.

"Alma?"

The woman snapped out of her thoughts and finally felt the tears that ran down her cheeks freely. It didn't take her long to recognize the owner of the voice, immediately seeing the silver glint of their hair and she felt some relief it wasn't a different person.

Isabel walked over, slowly kneeling down and looked over her, the younger ymbryne looking down at the floor to hide her tears. The older woman didn't need to ask her what was wrong, she already knew well what it was. She noticed how stressed and on edge she was during that whole meeting and just seeing her now she realized how tired she was.

"Fay, you can talk to me." Isabel says, her gaze gentle and loving, gently wiping away her tears and Alma just shook her head, annoyed with herself for acting this way. "I'm not one to judge, you know that." She mentions and the younger woman nodded with a small sniffle.

"I know it's been stressful, I truly do. There's no denying that there is a potential war happening and your wards haven't been heard from yet, but I can assure you Jacob will keep them all safe." The cuckoo says, her tone firm but understanding. "After all, Abe was his grandfather." She adds, managing a small smile which Alma tried returning, but she couldn't. Instead she looked back down at the floor, Isabel feeling her jaw clench against her hand that was still resting against her cheek.

"It's alright, Alma." Isabel says. The younger woman didn't even mind when she brought her close in her arms, needing the contact as she felt her heart racing so incredibly fast.

"I can't believe I slept in, I shouldn't have, I didn't need to. I've been staying up perfectly fine and then suddenly, the day I somehow sleep, this all happened." Alma says, annoyed with herself and it clearly showed in her voice. "I'd go after them if I could, if it wasn't for my stupid cane!" She snaps, her talons digging into the older ymbrynes sleeves for a moment as she shoved the buried anger down even further. "I don't even know where I would start." She whispers.

"As sad as it is, you wouldn't be able to leave the council to find them, Alma. I know that's upsetting, I truly understand, but there's nothing we can do." Isabel says quietly, gently running her talons over her back. "The only thing we can do is wait for their return. Jacob may be hot headed at times and short tempered, but that boy has his grandfather's instincts. Whether he knows it or not." The ymbryne assures, Alma feeling slightly better. "And please don't talk yourself down like you do. It upsets me more than it does to you." She says softly, the younger woman leaning further against her as she felt her heart slow.

"I'm sorry, Izzy." Alma says softly against the woman's suit, her arms wrapped around her waist as she leaned against her, her cane long forgotten in the corner of the room.

"It's alright, Fay." Isabel replies, tightening her hold on the woman.

[mlaurenwrites]

“I suppose it’s a lot like being a Metamorphmagi,” the healer explained.

Hermione’s brow arched. Her head tilted. “You suppose?”

Seated beside her, she watched Draco tighten his hands around their daughter’s waist. He straightened in his chair, and the veins in his neck protruded beneath his fair skin.

“Yes, suppose. I’m afraid there’s not an exact diagnosis for whatever this is,” the healer continued. “Further testing would be needed. The symptoms here, so to speak, are similar to that of a Metamorphmagus but more-”

“Unpredictable?” Hermione guessed.

“Explosive,” Draco tried, resulting in a harsh glare from his wife.

“I was going to say… peculiar,” the healer concluded.