#olive elephanta

[medu879]

I love them both.

I feel like they'd be the kind of people who fight over everything, even because they don't want to use a spoon they consider ugly xd

[ravisconverse]

While I can appreciate both the mphfpc film and the books in their own separate sense, I just can’t help but criticise the film for some of the changes they made.

The aging down of Bronwyn and the aging up of Olive got rid of Bronwyn’s protective trait of the two younger girls.

The peculiarity switch between Emma and Olive was also so pointless. I mean I guess that it kind of makes sense with Emma being like the main “love interest” and her being the zephyr kind of fits more with Burton’s aesthetic, but it’s still very annoying, we deserved firey Emma.

The loop day. What was the purpose of changing the year to 1943 instead of 1940? It makes no sense, just keep it at 1940.

The postcard from Alma. In the books it was 15 years ago, which allowed for more doubt as to whether she would be alive or not. Reducing it to 2 years takes that away.

Every time I rewatch the film and I see the Olive/Enoch relationship I feel sick to my stomach. Enough said

Fiona’s entire character was ripped away and rewritten. Yes her backstory may have been considered too dark for the film, but come on you didn’t have to age her down, reduce her peculiarity and take away her selective mutism.

The aging down of Hugh, Millard and Horace really annoy me. Why are they children? I wanted sassy 17 year old Millard who is angsty and studious and sarcastic, Hugh who both loves and hates being peculiar and is devoted to Fiona, Horace being SCARED of his peculiarity.

I also feel robbed that we didn’t get Emma and Millard kidnapping and interrogating Jake when they first meet him. Or the whole thing with Martin and them having to fight the hollowgast. “Will you quit shouting and let me bleed in peace” you will always be famous.

Even though Alma Peregrine wasn’t accurate in the film, I am in love with how Eva Green portrays her, and how clearly her study of peregrine falcons comes into her acting.

[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.

[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!

[derpyy-y]

becoming obsessed with a book series was NOT on my 2024 bingo card!! i didnt even know i could read!!

anyways here is my miss peregrine lineup for the children! ,,,i somehow forgot about the title character and only noticed once i was done lining LMAO— i’ll draw my design for her another time and maybe some other characters. i am sorry miss P i knew something was wrong 💔

kind of iffy on emma, enoch, & jacob but i can tweak them later on if i draw em more BAHAH

anyways my favorite character in the books is horace 🩷🩷 my little fancy prophetic boy . although my favorite designs i did are hugh & fionas :)

i took some inspo from the graphic novels by cassandra jean bc i did really love them!!

anyways i love these books so much if you also like them LET ME KNOW I NEED FRIENDS

extra

[marygih]

I don't just read the story, I live it.

[4spiryn4]

/Bought a new apple pencil!! //

I just think that Millard loves personal attention and would be the only person in the house to let the girls play with his hair and do his makeup

(Also I gave Olive and Clair friendship bracelets. And I forgot to draw Millard’s shoes so let’s assume his barefoot or sth , and there’s something wrong with his sleeves byt im going to sleep bye,)

[splinnters]

yeah so like I love them so much I drew every single one of them

from left -> right

row 1: Jacob, Enoch, Emma, and Noor

row 2: Fiona, Hugh, Bronwyn, and Millard

row 3: Olive, Claire, Horace, and Victor

[devine-devil]

I always shudder to think that some screenwriter looked at Olive a 5/6 year old girl and thought "if we age her up, we'll have a great romantic partner for Enoch..."

Dude, they had FUGH, who is the coolest couple of all time, and then they took that away from us by making Hugh and Fiona two children, and aged up Enoch and Olive to make them a completely bizarre couple.

[zelcii]

some wight: once I tried killing this preppy british kid on his way to school but before I could even get a threat out he said ‘please don’t hesitate’ and I was caught so off guard that this eleven year old basically just asked me to kill him that i just stood there as he walked away.

horace:

horace: oh, you mean me.

[generalflowerpolice]

We just need some Wyn and Olive.

I love these girls

[painted-lemon]

no obviously that is two peculiar children playing chess with Miss Hawk there ymbryne caretaker

[enochoconnor-girlie]

Ao3 is down. everyone let’s have a moment of silence 😔

[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.

[lov3-lik3-ghosts]

hiii, I was wondering if you could write something with Enoch? Maybe angst to fluff? If not that’s okie!! I hope you’re well <3

Twines Of Fire Ignite Us. Lover, Our Love’s Immortal

Pairing: Enoch O’Connor x fem!reader.

Summary: Your mates heart belongs to her… right?

Warnings: Not beta nor proofread. Use of Y/n. Soulmate!au. Reader has the ability to see souls and entwine them in harmful ways, this has nothing to do with soulmates. Ankh: Ancient Egyptian symbol representing internal life (according to google); also a subtle representation of Enoch’s peculiarity. Twine of Fire: A symbol representing a subtle indication of the readers infernal rage and peculiarity.

Format: Drabble.

Word Count: 1.1k.

Note: I hope you’re well too, lovely!

| mother m-list

The ankh branding your wrist burns when he looks at her.

You’ve scratched it red raw under your scrutiny and marred it with the lashes of your jealousy over the months. Your family would have forever become victims to a social massacre if anyone ever caught glimpse of the monstrosity it had become; you count yourself lucky to be in a loop, where the day resets and things don’t matter.

Her red hair flows down her back in a river of ocherous that catches the sunlight just right and your eyes are drawn to his, watching her as though she’d made the world good again.

All of you screams he’s yours. That your souls are tied eternally. That his mark is embedded in your very skin; that yours is embedded in his.

You turn away.

Out of sight, out of mind.

••

They sit together at supper, as it’s always been. His seat is closer to hers than you’d be comfortable with but your opinion in the matter runs naught.

Your seat is opposite to his, directly facing everything they do. So much for out of sight.

Enoch’s as stoned faced as ever to her bright eyes and it’s not something that should strike envy green through you but it paints there anyway.

Olive will forever be the soothe after his burn, a soft to his unsated harshness. You will always be the gasoline to the bitter fire roaring in him. You will always be an angry soul, charged with bonfires of stubbornness.

He reaches for the bread roll too far for her to get herself and places it on the edge of her plate without her asking. The cuff of his shirt shifts and reveals the violet flamed twine bracketing his skin, unique and bold as the glow orbing in your abdomen. It disappears under his sleeve as quick as it peeked.

You don’t lose track of their interaction, storing it in the mental box of all the reasons it’ll always be Enoch and Olive and never Enoch and Y/n. They knew each other senseless.

Your mark twinges.

••

It’s been four weeks when he approaches you.

The days in the loop blend into a flurry indecipherable, slowing them and flying them through somehow at once. You’ve taken to tracking the days on an old calendar kept in the children’s home since you joined Loop Peregrine, a tally mark on each day despite the dates not matching up.

You’ve been here for two months now. You’ve talked to Enoch twice.

Three if you count now.

He can’t feel the spidery tingle beneath his skin that you can in his presence, the one that webs you to him in more ways than it should. Girls have always been more sensitive to soulmate related symptoms, blessed (cursed) with more instinctual insight.

You hate the way his soul flares an iridescent outline of blue hues around you, serving another reminder he’ll never be yours that only you can see. Another taunt from fates cruel truths.

The curve of his accent is something you didn’t realise you missed until he opened his mouth. “You're awful at being discreet, you know that?”

“Sorry?” It’s the most you can force yourself to say.

Enoch approaches at a different angle. “You stare. Why?”

Faking nonchalance, you shrug. “I don't stare.”

It only takes a raise of a brow to crumble a large enough portion of your facade. Stone faced or not, you would always be able to read him like a book split open — perks of peculiarities.

“You do.” He bites. “And not just at anything, at anytime. Always at me, always with Olive. Is there an issue you have with us?”

The question hits too close to home. Your reaction spiels out of you quicker than you can cage it, curling at your lip and snarling out of you. “Is there an issue I have with my mate breathing down the neck of another woman? No, of course not, O’Connor. Who could ever find an issue with that?”

Enoch’s face drops.

Realisation hits you like a freight train. You feel the colour drain from you, leaving you unsteady where you stand.

“You’re not my mate.” He strains. “You can’t be. I would’ve known, I would've known from the second I saw you.” There’s a desperation caving his expression, a plea to his eyes that pierces you.

A part of you aches at that, the part that understands lost time and blind eyes, the part that pieces together that you’ve deceived him but it’s overridden by stubborn fear. A mate so infatuated with another he couldn’t see the signs isn’t a mate that could ever love you whole.

“Well, you didn’t.” You can’t stop the bite of your voice.

He pauses, staring into you. It’s the longest interaction you’ve had with him and it sets you alight in all the wrong ways. Despair replaces desperation, written in the way he stumbles a step back from you.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me? Am I not good enough for the almighty hollow survivor?” You watch a bridled rage harden him.

You and him are one split in two, anger lies in the cores of all you are and seeps its way into everything. Now is no exception.

You can’t help but scoff. “I’m not the one in love with someone else.”

Enoch sneers. “Who’s in love with someone else?”

“Are you joking?” A sick lick of humour curls at you. “You can’t be that much of an asshole that you’d lead Olive on.”

“Olive?” Your fingers twitch to gnaw at the ankh, raging infernal at the thought of him thinking of her. The disconcertment in his eyes stops you.

You look at him, really look at him. Really listen to him, really think things through.

“Me and Olive are nothing that you think we are.”

The brief touches that seemed so intimate, the knowing what the other wanted before they had the chance to say, all the time spent together, day in and day out.

“When you’re stuck living the copy of the day before you learn to know who you’re stuck with.”

You’d never thought about it past your mark and his, past soulmates. You’d never had to, flitting between lives and loops too often to make connections.

“But me and Olive are friends. We’ve never been more than that and we never would be more than that.”

You almost feel stupid for making assumptions but the image they create is too entwined for you to have seen through.

“I didn’t want to intrude.” It’s your way of offering an apology.

Enoch pursues his lips. “We’re mates.” Cold fingers circle your wrist, pressed light against his symbol. He doesn’t look away as you shiver and gasp. You watch the navy of his soul quiver. “You could never intrude.”

You take his words for what they are, an acceptance of peace.

~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~

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

I do not give permission for my works to be translated or reposted on this site or otherwise!

[bluestarjay]

Guys, it's been like 2 weeks since I've posted. I'm sorry, yall, I've actually run out of content. Ermm, I have some drafts I can finish up, but I haven't really watched anything recently. Oh, I did a drawing for my art class, which was Emma's og picture from Miss Peregrine's, yk, the really dark one with the flames in her hands and I'm just so incredibly kind and talented that I was chosen for artist of the month!! Ppl, especially teachers, keep complimenting me, and it's really awkward lol.

I'm not in love with it, personally, as there are things that I would definitely change for better accuracy, but I do think it's reeeeally cool.