#Headmistress Peregrine x Reader

[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.

[milfswriter]

Family

Alma Peregrine/ The children in general x Reader

Request: Fluffy household headcanons

Notes: me and @queerpersonified decided to bring the Alma tag back to life cause Alma simps deserve better :)

Alright so...We all know you're the fun, cool parent here

It gets on Alma's nerves VERY easily.

"Can we play raid the village?" "No, Mr. Nullings" "she meant yes, but don't kill anyone!".

She'd give you a glare and receives an innocent smile in return

You were a family, not just peculiars living in a loop with their headmistress and her cool wife.

You're less likely to be the one grounding any of them unless it's Enoch. the boy never ceases to get on your nerves when he raises his voice at Alma or doesn't clean his death-smelling room.

piggyback rides with claire and olive to the dining room.

Birthday parties!!. Even though it's the same day every day, you keep a calendar in the kitchen with each child's initials on their birthday. Even Alma's, though she scolds you for indulging in unnecessary celebrations like this.

"It is necessary. You turn 182 today! everyone say happy birthday miss peregrine!" you laugh as her face turns a darker shade of red than she'd like to show while the children chant the famous birthday song.

morning kisses at the breakfast table that make the children cringe

Being referee and goalkeeper at the same time while the boys play soccer, Horace tutting at them for their 'unclassy behavior'.

Alma would not touch you with a five-foot pool as she looks at your dirt-covered clothes from throwing yourself around to catch Hugh's ball.

brushing Emma's hair every morning, much to her annoyance. "I'm eighty-eight years old" "and I'm a hundred and forty-three, you're still a child".

Stifling a groan at Bronwyn's strength when she hugs you.

Telling Millard to wear clothes every time you see an object flying in the air with a box of tissues thrown at him.

laying your head on Alma's lap in the living room while she smokes her pipe every afternoon, her long nails running through your hair as you close your eyes.

Keeping Enoch from Viktor's room, sometimes even locking it.

Being the only one besides Hugh that Fiona actually talks to

Bedtime has always been your favorite, tucking all your children into bed after a compulsory bedtime story from Tales of the peculiar, Alma waiting in the doorway to go to bed together.

Late night swaying in the kitchen to a song you'd hum in your wife’s ear, your hands at Alma's waist while hers are around your neck.

Taglist:

@ara-a-bird @thenazwife @mistysswampmud @yelenablshop @acornacre @yourfavdummy @mmemalwa @multifandomfix

[another-fantasy-world]

Quarrels

gif isn't mine

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Title: Quarrels

Pairing/s: Alma Peregrine x Fem! Reader (Romantic)

Summary: in which the headmistress's lover causes far more chaos than she should, leading her to discover a certain habit of the ever-elegant Miss Alma LeFay Peregrine.

Warnings: Mentions of being an outcast, …making out…probably

Additional Tags: OOC characters, fluff, so many kisses

Reader Pronouns: She/Her ??? I think????

Word Count: 1814 words

Author’s Note: Oops, it seems that I've gotten rusty with my writing... I apologize.

Taglist: I've been gone for too long that I've gotten shy to tag people :((((

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It was a peaceful day. The sun is shining brightly on the horizon, the sounds of her children playing in the backyard, and the pleasant aroma of tea wafting in the air.

Alma sips her tea as she relaxes back into her seat. It is quite rare for her to have time to think, especially with all the ruckus her children and her lover who acts like a child, made. 

"WHY ARE YOU BEING SUCH A JERK?!" 

Alma perks up as she hears Olive's voice coming from outside, which is then followed by the distinct smell of smoke. Olive never shouts like that unless-

"Well, if you weren't such a bitch, I wouldn't have to take such drastic measures" 

There it is. Olive never shouts so explosively like that unless it was you she’s arguing with.

Alma squeezes her eyes shut, annoyed at the squabbling. As soon as she heard the tearing of clothes, she immediately began to walk toward the escalating argument. 

Shades of green, brown, red, orange, and gray invade her vision as she walks out of the house only to witness you in your lion form, your clothes lay tattered on the grass field as Olive's hand produces stronger flames, creating thicker smoke.

"Enough! Both of you!" She interrupts, weaving her hand through your mane and tugging hard, making you whine as you moved to the direction she’s tugging in order for you to lessen the pain

"All this blabbering and shouting like some vendor on the street is not going to help you understand each other. Besides, how would you argue with Olive if you're in your lion form? All you can do is make noises. And Olive, the fumes from your flames would overwhelm Y/N’s senses! This is irrational and immature. Squawk-" you blinked your eyes in surprise, snapping out of your guilty face as you prance behind Olive to hide your laughing face. 

She only stood beside you and placed her hand on your head, holding you in place, as you both stared down at the small form of your headmistress, your previous argument long forgotten. 

You scoffed out a laugh as the peregrine falcon chittered on as if scolding, her stance imitating that of a human with her hands on her hips. 

“Mi- Miss Peregrine, we- pfft- we can’t understand you” Olive managed to speak in between laughs

She let out an exasperated chirp as she flies over to your fluffy head, settled herself in your fur, and closed her eyes

You huffed as if annoyed and pranced inside the house, sniffing for Emma’s scent, the girl always knew what to do and you always turned to her whenever something peculiar happens

“You truly are fit to be an animal. You should just stay like that forever.”  Olive teased, making you playfully lunge at her, toppling her over and licking her face

You then felt sharp claws digging into your fur, it seems that Alma is still annoyed at you, given the fact that she’s tugging on your fur right now. 

“Olive! Have you seen-” Emma blinked in disbelief, her mouth agape at the sight of you on top of Olive, her red hair inside your mouth while she had her left hand tugging your mane and her right hand pushing your head away. Your tail was swaying from side to side in happiness

“Where is Miss Peregrine when you need her,” Emma mumbled, moving towards the both of you to separate you two.

A loud chirp interrupted Emma, flying over to perch on her shoulder, her gaze piercing the both of you. 

“Sorry Miss Peregrine.” Olive apologized, standing up once your huge paws are off her. 

You nodded along with her, walking towards Emma, nudging her hand. Silently asking her if she can get clothes for you. 

“I’ll take care of Y/N, Olive, Emma. Start working on dinner. I’ll be there shortly.” she then turns to you with a pointed look that made you look at the floor

“I got it.”

“Emma.” Alma’s voice rang out, she was back in her usual pristine state, one hand tucked into her pocket as her other held her pipe. You didn’t even notice her turning back

“Look at me.” She says sternly 

You quickly shifted into your wolf form and looked up to her with puppy eyes

“That’s not gonna work on me, darling. Come.” She says, doing the come hither motion before turning on her heel and walking towards your room. 

You whined, choosing to walk beside her so you could feel her warm hand against your fur, her sharp nails barely scratching the skin under the fur. You tilted your head back, looking up at her. Her lips were wrapped around that pipe of hers, her hands twitching as if itching to have something to fiddle with. You should know, one of them is twitching in your fur. You huffed out a laugh before thumping her with your large bushy tail.

You finally arrived in your room, with Alma twisting the door open, you shifted into your regular, human form, naked. You looked over your shoulder, hoping to get a reaction out of your lover, yet her face remained calm, and void of emotions. You would’ve fallen for it, had you not seen the red tint coating her ears. How cute. 

“You can check your timepiece, darling. You look constipated.” You chuckled, earning you the nth sharp glare this day.

“And you should get clothes on.” She huffed out, pushing you into the bathroom, handing you clothes you didn’t even know she took from your dresser.

You smiled fondly. You met Alma while she was traveling with Emma, the girl being the first peculiar under the newly graduated Ymbryne. You followed them while posing as a stray dog until a bird landed on your head while you were guarding the inn they were staying in. You tried shaking it off, but it just dug its claws in your matted fur, which annoyed you but you couldn’t do anything.

That was if you were a regular dog. You looked around to make sure that no one was around and shifted into your human form, plucking the bird out of your head before shifting back. All of it happened within a minute, you were quite proud of yourself for that. 

Until the bird also shifted into the very woman you had been following for weeks now. She smiled warmly, introducing herself as Alma LeFay Peregrine, a Ymbryne who’s on a journey to gather up peculiar children in order to protect them. You would’ve introduced yourself, had you had time to shift back. She scooped you up in her arms and scolded you as she walked towards the noisy inn. Emma was waiting there, holding a towel with a bright smile. And there you knew, you just knew, that you would be with them, for a very, very long time. Forever, should fate let you.

“Alma~” You cooed, slamming the door open once you’re finished with your little flashback and also with clothing yourself.

“You took longer than you should’ve, are you perhaps not feeling well darling?” She cradles your face into her hands, smoke gets puffed towards your face as you smiled at her affectionately

“I’m actually feeling well. I’m feeling well in love with you.” You grinned, taking one of her hands and pressing your lips to her palm, relishing the way her face slowly turned into a rose

“Cheeky.” She humphed, hiding her face in your chest

“You’re so cute my sweet bird.” You cooed, softly prying her off and staring at her gem-like eyes, which sparkles with happiness and adoration 

Both of you widen your eyes, staring at each other unblinking at first, before giggling like teenagers. 

“I love you”

“I love you” 

“I guess we’re at that stage of our relationship eh?” You touched her nose with yours, still astounded at the sight of her eyelashes, and her eyes which held such adoration. Even after years of seeing her every single day, you still get your breath taken by her beauty. There was no one who could ever surpass your Alma’s elegance and beauty.

“It would seem that way, my love.” She whispered, looping her arms around her neck, pulling you closer until your lips are an inch apart.

“Alma.” You whispered her name, one of your many, many ways to seek permission from the headmistress

“Kiss me.”

And so you did. Oh, how you missed her lips, how you missed her. 

You miss her every second you spend away from her touch, and now that your hands are on her waist, gripping as if afraid that the moment you let go, she’ll vanish like cotton candy submerged in water. Now that her hands tangle themselves into your hair, your hearts are beating in sync as you share these affectionate moments with each other. 

There was nothing sexual about this intense kiss, just pure, unfiltered love and adoration. The kind of love that doesn’t cage, rather it anchors. The kind of love that makes you feel like you’ve suddenly been transferred to space, out of breath, yet oh so satisfied.

Or not. You’ll never be satisfied when it comes to her. You can never get enough of her. Especially when she pulls away. Just like now

You chase after her once she pulls away only for her to place her pointer finger to stop you. You pouted, making her chuckle

“Shh, my love. We have left the children alone for far too long.” She reasons as she faces the mirror you have and fixes her ruined lipstick and hair. 

“Besides, I think I have spoiled you enough for today, cheeky little thing.” She smiles at you before taking a hold of your hand and dragging you out of the room.

You just let out a huff and followed her despite your lingering objections.

“Behave. And maybe you’ll get a reward.” She smirks at you, with an eyebrow quirked up once both of you approached the kitchen

“Out of curiosity, what does behaving entail?” You grinned

She gave you a pointed look before swiftly entering the pleasant-smelling kitchen, with Emma manning it. Alma puts on an apron all the while taking over Emma in stirring whatever it is in the pot.

You shook your head, still smiling as you take the plates that are in Olive’s hands and helped the redhead with setting up the table for supper.

Perhaps you’ll behave for the remainder of today. What’s a few hours of behaving anyway, surely you can do that. You’re not some unruly child after all.

“Whipped.” Olive whispers making your fingers twitch

Behave, Behave, Behave, Beha- fuck it

What Alma doesn’t know, won’t hurt her.

“Y/N!”

You take that back, Alma LeFay Peregrine knows everything.

And maybe that's not such a bad thing.

[multimilfs]

Alma Peregrine x Fem!Reader: Artificial Permanence

Summary: Anon sent... Alma Peregrine + 9 -- "You need to wake up because I can't do this without you."

AO3

Prompts found here!

A/N: Damn I missed writing for Alma!!

Full Ficmas List

Tag List: @escapetodreamworld @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix @elenaguarnieri @evil-feather @imtrashinflames @nonbinary-cryptid-baby @jojalie @ashpheh

Warning(s): Light body horror

You never intended on becoming a murderer. 

No one comes into the world with the intention of taking lives, but somewhere along the way, a piece of them changes and goes dark. You have spent your whole life trying to avoid a part of you going dark. You didn’t want to take lives, you wanted to save them. 

But it all happened so fast. 

One second you’re preparing a surprise breakfast in the kitchen with Emma and Fiona, the next Millard is calling you from the front door. You turn and rush to the door. Millard never yells, always the picture of the perfect gentleman, sometimes crossing the entire house to deliver simple messages to you. 

If he’s yelling then something is terribly wrong. Were Alma awake already—it’s a fluke she isn’t, but you’d enlisted the children’s help in making her a nice breakfast before she woke—she’d scold him for not using an inside voice. 

“What is it, Millard?” You ask. 

He pushes you towards the door and you step onto the porch. It’s the perfect day, but the breeze from the water makes you shiver, pulling your robe tighter over your nightdress. Seeing the police officer standing on the porch makes you glad you did. 

Your appearance is the least of your worries when you take in the scene. 

The police officer is a gruff, round man, with a permanent scowl etched onto his face. He stands in the center of the porch with Olive and Claire on either side of him. White-knuckled hands grip their shoulders and you stand straighter, fury building at the terrified, pained looks on their faces. 

“Can I help you, Officer?” You ask coldly. 

“Yeah, your wayward freaks set the Pub on fire this morning,” He says, glaring at you, “I need you or the Headmistress to come down to the station.” 

“They’re children, surely you’re not going to arrest them?” 

His grip tightens on the girls and they both wince. Your fist clenches at your side. It’s all you can do to hold in your peculiarity, the air around you thrumming with your own desire to lash out at the man. But you do nothing, too worried you’d hurt the girls in the process. 

You have a good handle on your peculiarity, but when you’re emotional enough, all bets are off. And you can’t claim to be calm at the moment. 

“I can and I will!” He roars. 

“You will not!” You snap back, stepping forward and into his space, “Now unhand my children.” 

There’s a split second where his eyes widen. You wonder what he sees in your face that inspires the fear you see, a twisted glee blossoming amidst your anger. He grasps for words and his grip loosens on Claire and Olive.

Claire tries to pull away, frightened by the raised voices. Her attempt at escape draws the Officer’s attention and he reasserts his grip. When he does, it is like steel as it clamps roughly on Claire, and she lets out a frightened cry. 

You don’t hesitate before spearing the knife in your hand through his chest. 

He gasps and releases the girls. You go to look into his eyes, only to find them gone. His face is seared by red, yellow, and blue markings criss-crossing across his skin. There are dark blue marks under the sockets of his eyes where his skin seared against his cheekbones. A thin, white substance drips down his cheeks. 

You realize with horror that the knife acted as a conduit of your peculiarity—which struck him as lightning this time—and the liquid you're watching drip down his cheeks are what would be his eyes… if they hadn’t exploded from the heat. A shriek leaves your lips and you let go of the Officer. 

His body falls backwards and flops onto the porch steps with a heavy thud. Your eyes are stuck on the knife protruding from his chest, black from the electrical heat. 

“Impressive.” Enoch says behind you. 

Turning slowly, horror settling in your bones as you look into several of the children’s faces, you stare at Enoch. He’s leaning against the doorway with a look of admiration on his face. Your stomach turns. 

“The lightning was a nice touch.” He adds. 

“It really is interesting, Miss. Miss Peregrine never lets us watch.” Olive says sweetly. 

You know Alma is no stranger to taking lives; being an Ymbryne in the current society of peculiars made her well equipped for that, but knowing it interested your children was another thing entirely. Folding your shaking hands in front of you, you force a smile. 

“Children,” You say, voice faltering, “Will one of you keep watch for any other law enforcement? I have to go speak with Miss Peregrine about this.” 

“No you don’t, I know where she usually puts the bodies.” Enoch says. 

He backs up a little when you stare at him and you wonder again how you must look, “Just keep watch, Enoch.” 

All of the children on the porch nod. You slip back into the house and start up the stairs, ignoring Emma’s concerned calls after you, not sure you have the strength now to explain it all to her. Alma would make this all easier. Alma would make this go away. 

Despite that, you can’t help but sitting with the information that you’ve just made yourself a murderer. You lost control and took a life. It makes your stomach turn and you stop in the hall, leaning against the bannister, holding back the bile threatening to rise in your throat. 

Alma is asleep peacefully, wrapped in soft blue sheets. You hate having to wake her like this. 

“Alma,” You whisper, rounding the bed and kneeling at her side, “I need you to wake up—You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” 

One blue eye squints open and you try to smile. Both eyes shoot open when she takes in your appearance; kneeling next to her side of the bed, shaking and on the verge of tears. Her hands grab your face. Her unblinking eyes are running over you, relieved to find nothing wrong, only to widen when she remembers the children. 

“What has happened?” Alma demands. 

She’s out of bed in a flash and wrapping herself in her own robe, talon-like nails ripping through the fabric, though she pays it no mind. When she’s steps from the door, you find your voice again. 

“I killed that police officer.” You admit. 

Alma freezes in place. Slowly, she turns on her heel, eyes piercing you. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

The dam breaks, “I sent the girls into town for a few things and he came back, saying they set the pub on fire, he was so cruel and he made Claire cry and—and then I stabbed him. In the chest. And his eyes exploded!” 

The Ymbryne deflates, coming back to sit on the bed. She pinches the bridge of her nose and sits as you stare at the floor in silent horror. 

You replay the scene in your head. It feels like a blur—you didn’t even remember having the knife in your hand until it was through his heart. Then he was discolored and eyeless. You shudder. Alma gently pulls you up onto the bed to sit next to her. 

“All of the children are alive and well?” She asks. 

You nod. 

“The only one harmed is the officer?” 

You nod again. “I’ll take care of it, darling. He’ll be alive again tomorrow. You’re alright.” 

“I killed someone, Alma.” You whisper. 

“That does happen at times.” Alma says. 

“How can you be so casual about this? I’m a murderer.” 

Alma can’t help it, but a small chuckle leaves her lips. You jerk away. Intent on soothing you, you’re pulled back against her, her lips pressed to your temple in apology. 

The idea of taking a life makes you feel like a monster. Yet, everyone else is unphased, even acting like the whole situation was humorous. You feel like you’ve missed a memo of some kind, especially if the children were unbothered. 

“Darling, you’re not a murderer if your victim is alive the next day,” Alma says, “You protected the children. That’s what matters. Not the cruel officer who will wake up none-the-wiser in a few hours.” 

“I still feel awful about it.” You admit. 

She nods, “That will pass with time. Now, let’s handle this, shall we?” 

Alma stands and offers you her hand. You take it in your own, letting the warmth of her ground you. You also use it to distract you from the twisted amusement on her face. 

You still feel no better about taking a life, but at least you know it isn’t permanent. 

[thehomeofplatonicfics]

As It Used to Be

Bone-mender!Reader x Miss Peregrine (platonic!)

Everyone was sat around the dinner table, just as it used to be before. Everything was as it used to be, it was safe once more. Your fellow peculiars, your family, were laughing and joking… Jacob made a wonderful addition by bringing in some fresh conversation. And yet, you sat back in your chair staring at your plate, not engaging with anyone at all. You couldn’t stop the feeling of dread creeping over your bones.

A particularly loud laugh from Emma shook you from your daze, and you forced a smile on your face as you brought your focus back to your family. You thought no one had noticed your lapse in attention, but you had failed to notice the beady eyes of Miss Peregrine watching you curiously. She decided to keep a close eye on you until the reset.

After dinner, everyone watched Horace’s latest dream… everyone except you, that is. While everyone crowded around the sofa, you hovered behind your makeshift family like a guard dog, pacing the floor. Olive and Fiona noticed and frowned to each other, before returning their attention to Horace’s dream. Miss Peregrine, however, was growing increasingly concerned by your behaviour. She was about to pull you aside to find out what was wrong, when Horace’s dream ended and the children all began getting ready for the reset.

The headmistress was determined to get to the bottom of it after she maintained the loop. However, the younger children commanded her attention until they went to bed. She noticed your door was closed, suggesting you were in bed. So, she walked past your room with a small shake of her head, not satisfied that she’d have to wait until the morning to confront you.

You were still awake, however. Staring up at the ceiling, you tried to calm your racing mind down, to quieten all your thoughts. There was still that foreboding sense of fear, that something was going to happen again, you just couldn’t shake it.

It was not until the early hours of the morning that you managed to fall asleep, though you would not remain so for very long. You began to dream that the Wight and his hollowgast had come back. They grabbed Claire and Hugh and you heard a sickening crunch as the hollow broke their bones in an attempt to grab their eyes. You ran towards them, trying to touch them and use your peculiarity as a bone-mender to heal them both. But you were too late. You had failed to save them.

You woke up with a scream as your body involuntarily launched itself upright. Loud, shuddering breaths echoed in the room as you frantically searched your surroundings. Realising where you were, and knowing you’d had yet another nightmare, you slumped against the wall in defeat, allowing yourself to cry.

A few seconds later, you heard rushed footsteps heading towards you. In anticipation you turned your head towards the door, the relief of seeing Miss Peregrine rush in making you cry even more. “Oh, little one…” The headmistress muttered as she sat on the edge of your bed, reaching her hand out to rest on your shoulder. You launched yourself towards her, clinging onto your mentor in as a tight a hug as you could manage. After the initial shock Miss Peregrine returned the hug, smoothing down your hair as she gently shushed you.

“You had a nightmare, Y/N?” You nodded, sniffing as you tried to wipe your tears away. “I’m guessing this isn’t the first time, is it?” Miss Peregrine asked, though she already knew the answer. “No, it’s not.” You whispered, turning your gaze away from her.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The headmistress asked, her hand softly clasping yours. “I didn’t think it was important.” You replied defensively, continuing to avoid eye contact. “Well, now that I’m here, would you like to tell me about these dreams?” Finally you raised your gaze to look at the Ymbryne, hesitating for a moment before deciding to give in.

“Its about the… the Wight. And the hollow.” You began, shuddering at the mere mention of them. “They keep hurting the others, my family. And I try to heal them, try to save them… but I’m always too late. I never make in time, I always fail to save them.” You struggled to maintain composure as you looked up into Miss Peregrine’s concerned gaze. “I have to protect them! I won’t let anything hurt them!” You felt yourself being pulled into another hug and you made no effort to resist, Miss Peregrine softly shushing you once again.

“I know you won’t, Y/N. You already do a wonderful job, and we are lucky to have a bone-mender with us.” Miss Peregrine pulled back, cupping your face gently, her thumb gently brushing your cheek. “But you don’t need to be on guard all the time. We are safe here, our adventure has passed. I hope to not need to return to battle for a long, long time.”

You nodded slowly, trying to take the words in, wanting to believe them to be true. “Why don’t we go downstairs and I’ll make you some nice soothing tea.” Miss Peregrine offered gently, standing up and offering her hand to you. “Thank you.” You whispered, pushing back the covers and climbing out of bed to join her. Her arm wrapped around you like a wing, and together the two of you spent a quiet early morning. You were safe, just like you used to be.

[cannibalizedyke]

The Girl in the Mirror

February Prompt #5: Mirror

Millard Nullings x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,704

Warnings: Tiny mention of an abusive parent? Like tiny, no descriptions or anything, it's just mentioned once. Oh and the use of the word "hell" once, though I'm not sure that even needs a warning.

Summary: Millard Nullings had always hated mirrors. That is, until your face started to be the one he saw in them.

Millard Nullings had always hated mirrors. Well, maybe not always; he didn’t mind them too much in the years before he turned invisible, but now they seemed to serve as a constant reminder of the fact that he couldn’t see himself and would never be able to see himself. Now, he didn’t hate his invisibility. He actually found it quite useful, and he wouldn’t have traded his peculiarity for anything in the world. There were just moments, fleeting feelings of despair caused by a voice in his head that said, “You’ll never really be a person.” Of course, he was a person; no matter how invisible his body was, it still existed, but the things that pop into our heads aren’t always rational, and Millard’s mind was no exception. Feelings can change in an instant, though, and on his sixteenth birthday, Millard discovered something that turned his hatred for mirrors into an obsession with staring into them.

It was December the third, 1939, and Millard had been washing his hands, trying his best not to look at the nothing he would see in the mirror, when he slipped. He groaned, rubbing his head, which he’d hit on the toilet, and accidentally caught a glimpse of the round piece of silver. He immediately recoiled, expecting to see the nothingness of his reflection, but this time, it was different.

Instead of his reflection, he saw yours. Your hair was braided and there was a flower behind your ear, and your expression was just as confused as Millard assumed his was, though he’d never really find out. He stood up and approached the mirror, bewildered and shaking, his mouth open in shock as he reached his hand up to touch the silver. You lurched away from him, stumbling on the things scattered on your bathroom floor, and ran away before he could attempt to communicate with you again. After you left, the mirror turned back to normal, and his lack of a reflection haunted him once more.

“Miss Peregrine!” Millard barged into the headmistress’s room.

“Mister Nullings!” She jumped, dropping the scarf she’d been knitting. She gave him an irritated look, picking up her needles and yarn. “You are not permitted to come into my room, and I’m sure I’ve taught you better than to enter any room without knocking.”

Millard ignored her scolding. “Miss Peregrine, please! I’m sorry, but I found something! Something- something strange.”

“We’re peculiar, Mister Nullings.” Miss Peregrine resumed her knitting. “I’m sure you’re quite used to strange things at this point.”

“No, no, this was different!” Millard insisted. “I’ve been studying peculiars and normals since I got here, and I’ve never seen anything like this!”

Miss Peregrine stopped knitting, looking at him. “What did you see, Mister Nullings?”

“I was- I was washing my hands,” he said, “and I looked in the mirror, but I didn’t see my reflection.”

“You’re invisible, Mister Nullings. Did you expect to see yourself?”

Millard let out a frustrated huff. “No, but- never mind. The point is, I saw something else. Or rather, someone else.” He met her gaze. “There was a girl in the mirror.”

Miss Peregrine sighed, setting down her knitting materials. “I know this day might come. It happened to Miss Bruntley a year ago, Miss Frauenfeld three months ago, Miss Bloom one month ago, and it may happen to Mister Portman in the coming year. Though Mister Apiston is not yet sixteen, it happened to him three months ago as well, because he is Miss Frauenfeld’s soulmate.”

Millard’s face twisted in confusion. “What? Soulmate? What are you talking about?”

“Peculiars have soulmates,” the ymbryne explained. “When they turn sixteen, if they and their soulmate happen to look in a mirror at the same time, their reflections will switch. No one really knows why this happens, but experts suspect it has something to do with our peculiarity, because there is no reported instance of this happening to a normal.”

Millard frowned. “What if a peculiar’s soulmate is a normal?”

“The peculiar will see them, but the normal will see their own reflection as if nothing happened.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Millard narrowed his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell us about this before?”

Miss Peregrine sighed. “I wasn’t sure all of you would make it to sixteen.” Millard gasped, and she quickly clarified her statement. “Not because I thought you would die! I wasn’t sure when I would need to make this place a loop, and I didn’t want to tell you you had a soulmate if you were never going to find out whom it was.”

Millard processed the information, not speaking for several moments. “I want to find her,” he said eventually.

Miss Peregrine pursed her lips. “I thought you might want to. It can’t happen, though. It’s too dangerous.”

“What!?” Millard cried. “You mean to tell me that I have a soulmate, and that I’ve seen her, and that I’m not going to be alone forever like I always thought, but I can’t meet her!?”

“Precisely.” She sighed apologetically. “I’m sorry, Mister Nullings. I know how important this is to you, but we have no idea where she is! She could be anywhere, and it’s far too dangerous to try to look for her. Wights and hollows could be crawling all over the place where she is. I can’t risk putting one of my wards in danger.”

Millard ran out without another word, slamming the door behind him. He went straight to the bathroom and stared into the mirror, hoping you’d end up in front of one so he could see you again. He waited for hours, getting many an odd look from his fellow peculiar children, but he wouldn’t stop staring into the silver until he caught a glimpse of you.

It was around nine in the evening before he finally saw you. You were wearing a white lacy nightgown and carrying a candle, and you looked nervous, scared even. You bit your lip and hesitantly looked into the mirror, gasping when you saw Millard looking back at you. You said something, but Millard couldn’t tell what it was. Apparently the soulmate magic - if that was what it was - only extended to seeing the other person.

“I can’t hear you,” Millard said, then realized you wouldn’t be able to hear him either. He panicked - there had to be a way to communicate with you. He searched his mind for an idea, grinning when he finally thought of something. Maybe if he fogged up the mirror, he could write you a message.

He held up a finger to tell you to wait, then remembered he was invisible, so you wouldn’t be able to see him. Miraculously, though, you nodded, as if you could see him. His mouth opened in shock, but there was no time to ponder that now. He turned on the hot water in the sink and the tub and waited for it to fog the mirror up. It took about ten minutes, but you waited patiently even though you didn’t know what he was doing.

Once the mirror was completely fogged over, Millard raised up his finger and wrote, What is your name? in the silver.

He couldn’t see you through the fog, and he didn’t get a response for a moment so he thought it might not have worked, but once his message disappeared it was quickly replaced by a reply. (Y/N). What’s yours?

Millard, he wrote quickly, then added, Where do you live?

I don’t think it would be very wise to tell a stranger where I live.

Millard chuckled. I’m not a stranger. You know my name, don’t you? That makes us friends, or at the very least, acquaintances.

I don’t trust you yet. I want you to answer some questions first.

Ask away.

Do you know why this is happening? I’ve never experienced anything like this before.

Millard explained the concept of soulmates to you, which only confused you further.

But I’m not peculiar, you wrote. I don’t have any special power.

I think you do. You see, my peculiarity is invisibility, but you responded to me holding up my finger as if you could see me. Can you?

Yes. You’re invisible?

Have been since I was eight years old. I believe your peculiarity is seeing invisibles.

Really? That’s a rather unexciting superpower to have.

I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of anyone with that peculiarity before, and I’ve been studying peculiardom for eight years. Think of it like this: it’s almost like you’re in on a secret no one else will ever know. You have knowledge no one else has the ability to have, and I’d say that’s actually rather exciting.

Oh. That does make it sound quite interesting.

It is. Do you trust me now?

There was a longer pause between his message and yours that time. Yes, you eventually wrote.

Millard sighed in relief. Good. Will you tell me where you live? I want to meet you.

I live on this little island near Wales. It’s called Cairnholm.

Millard blinked, then a grin stretched across his invisible face. How convenient. I live in a children’s home on that exact island.

Oh, how wonderful! Shall we plan to meet?

And so you did. You decided to meet up the following night - or early morning, if you’re being particular - a little after twelve. Millard wasn’t too worried about Miss Peregrine catching him, but - after much persuading - Bronwyn agreed to keep watch just in case, and to send Emma to warn him if anything happened.

“(Y/N)?” Millard called, holding a candle to light the cairn.

“Millard?” you called back, running toward the sound of his voice. “Millard!” You set down your candle and grabbed him in a hug. You reddened and quickly let go of him. “Sorry,” you said with a sheepish smile. “I’m kind of a hugger.”

Millard smiled back, trying to hide his elation at meeting you. “I don’t mind. It’s so good to meet you - really meet you.” He set down his candle and took a seat next to it. You followed suit.

“Why do you live in a children’s home?” you asked after a moment. “Are your parents… dead?” You realized how insensitive that was and quickly revised your question. “I’m sorry! That was an awful thing for me to ask. You don’t have to answer.”

“It’s okay,” Millard said. “My parents aren’t dead. They might as well be, though. You see, most normals - which is what we peculiars call non-peculiar folk - aren’t very accustomed to their children, say, suddenly starting to turn invisible. So they tend to blame our peculiarity on possession, or accuse us of being witches or demons, or something of the like. I was run out of my house the moment my foot disappeared, and was eight years old and living on the streets until Miss Peregrine - the headmistress - found me.”

“That’s horrible!” you cried.

Millard shrugged. “Yes, but it happens to many of us. Since your peculiarity isn’t a particularly noticeable one, I doubt it’ll ever happen to you, though.”

You folded your knees up to your chest. “Well, I’ve never been run out, but I can’t say my home life is particularly enjoyable.”

“What’s wrong there? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You let out a shaky breath. “My father… Well, let’s just say he’s not a very nice person.”

“He beats you, doesn’t he?” Millard asked in horror.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I wish I could leave, but I have nowhere to go.”

“Maybe you do.”

You looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“The children’s home I stay in is a home for peculiar children,” Millard explained. “Everyone there is peculiar in some form or another - there’s a brother and sister who are both stronger than ten men, a little girl with a mouth in the back of her head, a girl who can create fire in her hands - all of us. Miss Peregrine would be happy to let you stay - once she stops yelling at me for sneaking out, of course.”

“Oh, could I really?” you asked, your voice filled with a hope that told Millard you thought it far too good to be true.

“Of course,” he replied.

You threw your arms around him, this time letting them stay. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

A blushy smile stretched its way across Millard’s face as he returned your embrace. “It’s really no trouble. Well, maybe a bit of trouble, but that’s my fault for breaking the rules.”

You pulled away from him, and he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. “When can I go?”

“Now, if you want,” he replied. “Unless you want to get some of your things from home. I’m sure Emma or Fiona will have some clothing that will fit you, though, so you really only need to go back if you want to.”

“I don’t ever want to go back to that hellhole,” you told him darkly.

He nodded, taking your hand and leading you to the home. “I have a question,” he said as you walked.

“What is it?” you asked, looking over at him.

“What do I look like?” His voice was quiet and a little sad, though he’d tried to keep it as light as possible.

You stopped walking so you could study him. “Your skin’s tan, and you have freckles, but just on your nose and cheeks. Your hair’s brown, and it’s pretty long for a boy’s hair.”

“I haven’t really cut it since I turned invisible,” Millard explained with an embarrassed laugh. “What else?”

“You have hazel eyes - they’re brown and green with flecks of gold and they’re really pretty,” you said shyly. “Y- you’re really pretty.”

Millard pinked. “Th- thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Shall we keep going?”

You nodded quickly and the two of you began walking again. It took 30 minutes for you to get to the children’s home; it really should’ve only taken ten, but you were so busy talking and laughing with each other it ended up taking a lot longer. Miss Peregrine was standing in the doorway when you arrived, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Millard winced and you gripped his hand so hard it hurt, nervous in the presence of an unfamiliar adult.

“Come in, Mister Nullings,” she said dryly, letting the two of you inside.

Bronwyn was standing nervously behind her. “I’m sorry, Mill,” she apologized when he shot a glare at her. “I had to tell her, she was worried.”

Millard sighed. “It’s fine, Wyn.”

Bronwyn seemed to notice you and grinned. “You must be Millard’s soulmate! I’m Bronwyn.” She held out her hand for you to shake and you did, smiling back.

“I’m (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“Miss Bruntley, if you would please go on to bed,” Miss Peregrine interrupted.

“Right, of course, Miss.” Bronwyn gave your hand a friendly squeeze before scurrying upstairs.

Miss Peregrine led the two of you into the tea room and made a pot as she scolded Millard for his disobedience. She then explained everything you didn’t know about peculiardom and told you you were welcome to stay in the home for as long as you wanted to. You ended up sleeping on the couch that night, but you moved in with Emma the next day.

You were now sitting with Millard under an apple tree, your fingers entwined as you watched the other children run around the field. “Hey, Mill?” you said.

“Hm?” he hummed in reply, gently rubbing his thumb over yours.

“What’s the difference between soulmates and regular boyfriends and girlfriends?” you asked. “I know how a normal relationship is supposed to work, but since we know our souls are like, aligned or something, it feels like we should be… different.”

“I don’t know,” Millard answered honestly. “I guess we should just do what feels right.”

“What feels right,” you repeated. You looked up at him with a shy smile before placing a quick peck on his cheek. “I really like you, Millard.”

He smiled back. “I really like you too.”

[marvolocore-library]

Cardiac Arrest - Movie! E.O x M.Reader

Req: No | Wc: ≈2.5k

Pair: Movie! Enoch O'Conner x Cardiokinetic! Male! Reader; he/him

Fandom: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2016)

About: Enoch meets a mysterious peculiar that entered Miss Peregrine's loop after his own loop was raided. The peculiar is suddenly shaken awake by a curious Enoch O'Conner. . .

Warning(s): Organs; Stopping heart from functioning; Minor character death; multiple mentions of grief/grieving; mentions of death; self-hate; vulgar language

Author's Notes: When I thought of this idea, I was in genuine love. I love this concept so much, so I thought, how could I NOT write it? Enoch's kinda OOC but not really, just mainly curiosity and piqued interest in something. There will probably be a sequel.

This may be read as platonic, but this rears towards romantic! Also, my writing is kind of crap in the beginning, apologies! This was originally for my old account before moving.

Wattpad Link to this story

Sweat beaded at your temple. You ran as fast as your legs could possibly take you, your heart's beat pounded in your ears. Sand coursed itself in between your toes. Your satchel (which contained your oxford shoes and socks) bounced behind you, resting above the hindside of your rolled-sleeve button-up shirt. Your dark-grey trousers - which were tucked over your shirt and held up by brown suspenders - began to feel further uncomfortable as you ran farther down the ocean's shore. Of course, you would step on the occasional shell and you would let out a faint, ouch.

It was 1956, your loop was gone, and the nearest hiding place was Cairnholm, Wales. Where Miss Peregrine's loop lay virgin.

It was the only possible loop you could hide in, your previous one had been raided by the monstrosities and you were devastated - for the most part.

If you were something other than devastated, you were deeply disturbed. And by disturbed, I mean in grief.

All of your friends, your family, had died. All their bodies lay eye-eaten and to-be-rotten. You had watched as the monster's shadows staggered away, tentacles retreating into the threshold of shark teeth.

You switched your trail to a mucked path that lead into the bog that held the contents of refuge. Still running but at a slower pace.

As you run further into the wetland, trees began popping up every so often, until a canopy of trees blocked the sun from physical view until it led up to a rigged cavern. Halting to a stop, you rested your hand on your chest and began to regulate your heartbeat - it was part of being cardiokinetic.

You walked up to the cairn's entrance. Resting your hand upon the stone archway and peering inside. It was dark and otherwise quiet besides the few drops of water that formed from the stalactites.

You entered the cairn, careful to avoid tripping over pebbles.

You travel to the opposite end of the arch, leading you to a sun-filled sky.

You invited yourself to run to where the house was located, even if that meant passing another canopy-covered-bog.

You walked up to the house's front patio and gave a deliberate knock. Moments later, you could hear the clacking of a heel coming toward's the door.

The door swung open, and you were met face-to-face with a charming woman. Her jet-black hair was put in a unique updo, with streaks of violet-blue. She wore a black-collared jacket that appeared almost leathery, and her eyes were outlined lightly with black eyeliner.

"Oh, you must be one of Miss Starlings'." She eyed you up and down, "Ah, yes. You surely look like one of hers. Is there anybody else with you?"

"No, ma'am. Just me." You said solemnly. Your eyes drifted to the floor before reconnecting with the Headmistress'.

She frowned, letting out a mournful grunt.

"Anyways," she piped. "What was your name?"

"[Name]," I chewed the side of my cheek, offering my hand.

She took it and gave a vigorous shake before letting go, "well, we should bet getting you settled now." I just nodded in return, following her as she hobbled up the flights of stairs.

She lead you to an ornamented room. A big bed lay simply in the corner and the walls were racked with bare shelves.

"This is where you'll be staying," she said, removing her pipe. "I'll introduce you to the rest at supper." She parted her lips and smoked on her pipe.

"One question," you speculated. "When is dinner."

She smiled, "five o'clock. Don't be late."

You gave a simple nod as she departed from your presence. Throwing your satchel onto the bed and unbuttoning three of your buttons that ran down the front-center of your collared shirt. You seated yourself on the mattress next to your bag.

It felt nice to relax, to unwind after everything that's happened in the past few days. If anything still lingered on your mind, it was of your friends. Susie, Carlos, Logan, even Piper. Gee, you missed the way Piper would fly into your room with her swan wings and start howling on the ways you messed up in life - at three in the morning. You laughed a bit before your face went poker and your mouth dipped at its edges.

Gee, you missed everything Barron ruined. If only you could have made their hearts stop. Did they even have hearts? Cause they sure seemed heartless.

A heartless monster is all Barron will ever be.

You walked down the stairs and entered the dining room. It was but empty, except for a peaceful Miss Peregrine stood waiting at the entranceway. You fumbled with your now-clean clothes.

"[Name], your early. That's quite perfect, actually." She smiled endearingly. "Come, sit."

You both moved to grab a chair at the long table. You had noticed that she was currently pipe-less.

"Nobody currently knows of your presence here, today." She told. "So do expect it to be a bit of a shock to the others as they sit down with us."

You nodded, "I wouldn't expect any different."

The headmistress moved her hand into her pocket and slid out a black pocket watch. "They should be here any second now. . ."

I watched curiously, then the front door opened and low murmuring came from the entrance hall. Some heavy steps came trampling down the staircase as a group of children - of all ages - barged into the room.

They watched beady-eyed and curious at your figure. They whispered among themselves as a visibly adorned one came towards you with an outstretched hand.

"Hullo," He greeted, "I'm Horace, it's a pleasure." You shook his hand.

"Hi." You said plainly.

Next, they all came up to you, saying their hellos and introductions. Everyone was seated by the time a dark-haired male entered the room.

He seemed your age and came into the room in a fuss. "Sorry if I'm late, one of the puppets got out of hand."

He stopped dead in his tracks and eyed your sitting body.

"Hey." He said, diverting his eyes to an unoccupied chair.

You just gave a faltering smile as he sat at the end of the table.

The headmistress clapped her hands and stood on her feet to face her children. "As you all know, we have a new addition to our family." She beamed to you, then continued. "Please welcome [Name]. He came to us from Miss Starling, as her loop was grievously raided." She motioned to you.

You smiled at the peculiars surrounding you, they all lightly applauded accordingly after Miss Peregrine's appeal. They all looked at you with gradient, enlightened eyes, except for one. The boy with the pretty dark hair, the one that murmured a 'hey' to you because he was late. Though you didn't recall him addressing his name.

You ineptly stared at your plate, the large peculiar-grown block of carrot laying to rot until eaten. You felt sick, being introduced to your new family wasn't something you could digest, unlike food. It meant leaving your past behind. Your family, friends, even lovers.

You felt your heart begin to quicken slightly, the pounding matched unevenly with the throbbing in your head. You stood up, looking at Miss Peregrine fearfully.

"Excuse me, I'm going to go to the loo." You said stiffly, quickly pushing in your chair and trekking to the nearest bathroom.

As you made it to the restroom, you shut the door tightly behind you and flicked the lock. You retreated and looked in the mirror. At your face, your perfect-but-imperfect [skin color] skin radiated against the restroom's ceiling light. You studied your distraught [eye color] eyes that were a mix of confusion and grief. At your tangled hair, wrinkled button-down shirt. You were a complete and utter mess, and everyone could see. Like your failures as a human being were shown at a museum display. Getting seen by judging eyes hundreds of times a day.

Everything was going by so quickly. It all hit and pounded on you like a runaway train that was driven by some sort of psychopath.

"Stupid." You muttered towards the mirror, light sobs coursing through your throat. "Why were you the one to live?"

Salty drops of water came from your eyes, cascading down your cheeks like waterfalls. The water would get too close to your mouth, then you liked the water from your chapped lips and let the shred of salt and water go down your throat.

You half-expected someone to hear your bawling and barge in and give you comfort. But why would that happen? Those were the things that would happen in a romance movie, the movies where you would be snuggled with your friends and laughing at the cheesy lines as you stood in front of the monotonous screen. But this wasn't a romance, this was a story where the character lives in grief for the rest of his life. Moping around a house, living the rest of eternity eating vegetables and goose. Vegetables and goose, goddammit.

Once again, your heart rate quickened in your flash of anger. You inhaled, and exhaled, using your power to regulate its pace.

Deciding you were over having a fit, you unlocked the door and exited.

You walked quickly back to the dining table, where most of the others peculiars were just finishing their meals. You glanced at some, flashing a smile before retaking your seat, carrots untouched.

"Are you alright? You took quite a while." The headmistress pointed out.

"I got lost," You spoke, lying through your teeth. Miss Peregrine just shrugged before going back to her meal and you poking at your carrots with a fork.

It was before a girl with blonde curls named Claire said something about movie-time that you thought that you would die of ennui.

The children all shuffled from their chairs to the living area, where two couches were parallel to each other, a chair sat empty in front of what seemed to be some type of white fabric.

Horace moved to be seated in the wood chair and you took your chance to sit next to Hugh, who blatantly smiled and had some small talk with you before everyone stilled.

Horace-who had somewhat prominent ears-had held an odd cylinder eyepiece in his hand. He lifted it to his eye and sparks of light illuminated boldly from it until a theatre-like form appeared on the white fabric.

"He projects his dreams upon the wall, you see," Hugh told you. "Mostly about apparel, but sometimes foresight into the future."

The dream was about clothes, as Hugh had stated most of his dreams were about. He was trying a variety of similar suits, picking through monocles, and sorting his top hats. It was quite dull, so you decided to play around with your heart rate (You did that a lot, but you were mindful not to do anything dangerous).

Hugh had groaned audibly from next to you, his eyes turning to slits as his eyebrows bunched up.

You mimicked Hugh, besides you groaned many pitches quieter than him.

You were going to lay down on the couch before you heard soft footsteps and a creak on the sofa. Something about how a shrouded figure sitting alongside you put you on edge, your mind resorted to the conclusion that it was a Hollowgast before remembering Millard.

So instead, you leaned back on the spot you currently were at and shut your eyes. You felt eyes on you, so you squinted open your right eye to see a pair of dim coffee-colored eyes on you before quickly diverting away.

Your consciousness faded from the apparent void of darkness into a mild sleep.

You dreamt of your original loop, of Miss Starling and the rest of her wards.

You shook awake by, being met with the same lingering eyes from before your nap. "Get up, you lazy ass," he said.

"I'm up." You said, pushing his arm away from you. It was just the both of you in the room. You sat up as he sat next to you on the couch.

He eyed you, "I'm Enoch."

"Hullo, Enoch."

"You sound stupid."

"Thanks."

Enoch hummed before playing with the hem of his shirt a bit.

You kind of stared at him. His face was relaxed and drowsy, unlike his annoyed and stern expression from dinner. His dark hair was parted and wave-like as it swayed on the side of his face. He wore more monotoned colors compared to the others.

"What is your peculiarity?" You asked unconsciously, Enoch's eyes loomed into yours.

"I can reanimate the dead."

Your eyes widened a tad, "cool! I've only met one other dead raiser apart from you before."

Enoch shifted on the couch, "what can you do?"

You shifted, "Cardiokinesis." You stared into Enoch's eyes, an emotion besides boredom, ignorance, irritation, annoyance, and tired entered. Curiosity. "Basically I can control heart rates of me or some other living thing, apparently I can do a little more when I practice or something."

Enoch kind of just stared, and you dittoed.

"I don't say this much, but that's very intriguing," Enoch said plainly, trying to mask emotion.

"Thank you," you smiled. This small gesture, the small curve on your lips made Enoch go berserk with emotion. And, for once, he smiled back and seized your hands.

"Can you demonstrate?"

You were kind of shocked, "on you?"

"Yes, it doesn't matter."

"I can only put you in cardiac arrest for a few seconds? I can only stop it so long before you get global cerebral ischemia." Enoch did not understand what you had said but nodded nevertheless. "I can't promise that you won't be damaged."

"Just do it."

You bobbed your head, your hand just hovering above his chest. Your power spiked and coursed through your arm, a red glow stringed from your fingertips to Enoch's chest. Enoch gasped. Your head began to throb, it pounded and pounded. Enoch's already dark eyes seemed to grey out his emotion.

After another three seconds, instead of a red glow, green surfaced from your fingers and into Enoch's chest. He panted, eyes dilating.

"Are you alright?" You asked, gripping his shoulder with your right hand.

"I'm fine," Enoch said before blinking and soughing.

"A hundred-percent okay?"

"Maybe ninety-seven." He breathed. Enoch, for once, felt enlightened that you didn't view him negatively (yet, at least).

You chuckled, "You're funny sometimes."

Enoch stared blankly, "What planet are you from?"

You laughed a bit louder that time, "Earth."

"And I'm from Saturn." You didn't show emotion that time.

"You ruined the joke." Enoch just grinned, even how much he tried it he couldn't help it.

You both just leaned into the couch, enjoying the other's silence.

You're going to like it here.

[itsonlydana]

Can you do a miss Peregrine x reader were the reader is new and becomes really close with her in a mother and daughter way

"Close your eyes, I´ll be there" ➷ Alma Peregrine

➛ pairing: Alma Peregrine & reader (female) platonic

➛ summary: after having troubles with nightmares that you hid from the others, Miss Peregrine finds out and tries to help you

! warnings/tags: homesickness, nightmares, the reader doesn´t sleep, fluff

➛ words: 1,5k

♬ song: goodnyght — sleep cycles ⤷ i found myself listening to more lofi playlists while writing and thought this just fitted for the scene i had in mind

➛ a/n: not me reusing one of the peculiarities from my last fic because i find them so interesting.. I hope you enjoy this and please take care of you, maybe drink a glass of water <3 :)

Being "the new one" was never easy, no matter where you went or where you came from. It was a title that brought so many questions, uncertainties, fears. So much that was new, unfamiliar.

For you, every question was one too many, every uncertainty gnawed at your mind, the fears were overwhelming and instead of getting used to the "new" you were confronted with more of it every day, the unfamiliar remained unfamiliar.

No matter how hard you tried to get used to your new home, you couldn't help but miss your old one, no matter how much better you were supposed to be doing here according to everyone else.

No matter how many conversations you had with the other children, their words never reached you, their jokes remained incomprehensible.

No matter how many times you lay in your new bed, you never found a peaceful night's sleep.

Miss Peregrine had explained to you that it was because of your peculiarity. That your negative thoughts were influencing your dreams and as well those of others, which is why many of the other children were also plagued by nightmares the next nights; by your nightmares.

It didn't really help your fears, and so you decided not to sleep anymore.

To you it sounded logical, if you didn't sleep you wouldn't have nightmares and you wouldn't lose control of your "peculiarity" and let the others suffer under it.

No one noticed at first, especially because you told everyone how much better you dreamed and since none of the other children had nightmares anymore, they believed you.

Only Miss Peregrine noticed that something was wrong. Noticed how the circles under your eyes were getting darker, you kept looking like you hadn't slept in a thousand years. Noticed how a faint light still shone from under your door crack at the late hour, sometimes a soft tapping of bare feet could be heard on the creaking wooden floor.

In your permanently exhausted state, however, you didn't catch any of her worried glances; you were too busy keeping yourself awake.

And Miss Peregrine helped you, somehow your headmistress must have understood your situation because she made sure you took enough vitamins to you. She brought you a plate of fruit in the afternoon, reminded you to drink water, sat you in class at the place closest to the window, little things that you would soon appreciate very much.

Tonight was one of the worse nights, as soon as you closed your eyes for a few seconds, images of your nightmares flashed up and you had to pull yourself together not to scream out loud every time you found yourself in your room and not somewhere in the dark.

You had just sat down on the windowsill next to your bed, your arms wrapped around your drawn up feet, and were looking outside at the dark clouds with an unfocused gaze, when there was a soft knock on your door.

"Yes?" you didn't even question who was still awake and knocking at such an hour, which is why you weren't surprised when the door opened and Miss Peregrine stepped into your room.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed her closing the door and walking towards you until she sat down on the edge of your bed. "May I ask why you refuse to sleep?" she asked, and you slowly turned your head toward her. Miss Peregrine was busy putting your pillow down properly and brushing the wrinkles out of the snow-white blanket around her.

You buried your head between your knees, pulling your legs closer to your chest. "When I sleep, the dreams come, they can't come," you murmur.

"Ah, I see. So you'll never sleep again?"

At her question, you raised your head. Never again was a long time. "I don't know, huh?"

Miss Peregrine nodded in understanding. "But that's a hard decision, too. What are your nightmares about, then? Maybe I can help you?" she suggested, and you couldn't help but wonder.

Hadn't she seen your nightmares when you were dreaming? All the other children knew exactly about it. Was it because she was a ymbryne? Didn't birds dream?

You leaned against the window, playing with the hem of your sleeping clothes, wondering if you even wanted to tell her about it. You didn't want to hurt her when she was being so sweet to you.

Finally, though, you gave in, nodding to yourself. "In my dreams I run towards the house and although I reach it I never seem to really arrive. Everything is strange to me."

Miss Peregrine drew her eyebrows together, a sympathetic smile playing around her otherwise serious lips. Invitingly, she patted the mattress beside her. "You don't have to get under the covers, but it's certainly cozier than the windowsill."

Despite the inhibitions within you that usually kept you from approaching the others so closely, you climbed down from your place on the board onto your bed to lean against your pillows. Immediately your tense limbs loosened, it felt much more comfortable than sitting on wood for ages.

Miss Peregrine smiled at you from her place in the middle of the bed. "Will you allow me to get comfortable?" she asked, and you nodded, at which point she grabbed one of the pillows that was at the foot of the bed and slid further onto it. "There, then you won't have to be awake all by yourself."

You tilted your head, speaking even before you understood the meaning of the words to your situation, "Don't you need to sleep to be attentive?"

An embarrassed blush crept onto your cheeks as you realized it, but Miss Peregrine did not point out your error.

Instead, she just nodded. "That's true. But I can make an exception for you today." she spoke, looking around your room. You hadn't had much with you when you had arrived a few weeks ago; an old suitcase with your clothes and a photo album, which was lying on the old wing chair in the other corner of the almost empty room.

You followed her gaze to the chair where you usually sat and flipped through the pages of the album over and over again, trying to remember how the air had tasted, how the grass felt under your feet when you walked over it, or how your house had sounded. You missed the clatter that could be heard constantly from the kitchen, the meow of your cat, the sound of the fountain outside your bedroom window.

"You know, (y/n), just because you live in a new place doesn't mean your home isn't there anymore." Miss Peregrine spoke softly, musing at you with her wise, warm eyes. "Your home is not necessarily a place, it can be a feeling, and you will carry that feeling inside you forever." She raised her hand and placed it over her heart. "It will be in here for all eternity, no one can take that away from you."

You mimicked her movement, feeling the quiet beating of your heart in your hand.

"And you can visit your home even in your sleep, if you only wish and firmly believe," she continued. Then she stood up, crossed the small room and carefully picked up the album, bringing it back with her. Instead of sitting down in her original place, she settled down next to you, stretched out her legs on the bed, and placed the album on her lap. With slender fingers she opened the first page, you leaned closer to her.

"This is me with my old class on a field trip to the farm," you explained, tapping yourself in the group photo, your finger sliding down a photo. "And here I made a flower crown with a friend."

The two of you flipped through the entire photo album, you recounted the moments in the pictures, and for the first time, no sense of sadness overcame you. You felt comfortable sharing your memories, reliving them with someone else, and as you spoke and explained, you began to tire.

Miss Peregrine noticed how your head landed on her shoulder and you hid your yawn more frequently, and she, in the middle of a story of yours, lifted the blanket at your feet, pulling it up so that you were both lying under it.

"Shall I tell you a secret?" asked Miss Peregrine you, and you nodded tiredly. She pointed out your window with her dark fingernails after glancing at her watch, just above the big tree. "In a minute a shooting star will fall there, if you want to make a wish."

Eyes falling shut again and again, you looked out at the night sky, thinking about what wish you could make, sliding deeper into the pillows.

"In ten seconds," Miss Peregrine whispered.

You listened to the clock ticking softly, counting down the seconds until you actually saw a bright tail fall along the sky field before your eyes fell completely shut, with your wish on your lips.

"I wish to find a new home here."

And for the first time since your arrival, you dreamed not of darkness, but of a sunny autumn day when you would show Miss Peregrine how to weave a flower crown.

[hxney-lemcn]

Is This Love? (Pt. 3)

Summery: Reader gets a strange letter, but is blindsided by her peers bullying.

tw: Bullying

wc: 1.1k

Last Chapter

Master List

When Saturday rolled around mom made sure I got a long lecture. I didn't tell what happened, I don't want her to shun me like Ashley. I have no clue HOW my mom would react. I couldn't control it so I wouldn't be able to prove it to her. She'd probably put me into a mental ward. So I did what I'm sure anyone else would do in my position. I moped around in my room.

I was so caught up in my own world that I didn't notice my mom trying to speak to me about something.

"-n), (y/n) sweetie are you alright?" She asked which somehow brought me out of my stupor.

"H-huh?" I asked looking at her from where I laid in my bed. "O-oh, yeah I'm good, I'm just thinking about something."

"If you say so dear," She spoke softly with concern. "Well I got a letter, and I was wondering what you would think about it." I tilted my head not quite sure what she meant. She handed me a letter and it read:

Dear Miss (L/n),

I am the headmistress of a boarding school on a small island in Wales named Cairnholm. I was wondering if you would like to send your daughter. I noticed that she has astounding grades and she would come here on a scholarship. All her fees would be payed, please respond as soon as you can for she can start as soon as possible.

Sincerely,

Miss Peregrine

I was astonished by this letter. Me going to another country? An island? That sounded totally rad! I could feel my mood lighten slightly. But if I go then Ashley-

oh wait.

Maybe if I go I can make some new friends! Better ones who actually care about me as a person. Yeah, think positively. This is a one of a lifetime opportunities and nothings holding me back from taking it.

"Oh could I go?" I pleaded. "Please, this sounds amazing and I want to go really badly."

"I just want to make sure with you," Mom said with a small smile. "You'll be gone from home for a really long time and I don't want you to feel like I'm just sending you off."

"Yeah I'm sure!" I exclaimed. It's like a new life away from all the drama that happened. "This is awesome!" My mom slightly chuckled before standing up.

With a small nod she responded, "Okay then, I'll write her back right away. I'm glad you get to have an experience like this." She then left my room. Now I had a lot more to think about.

I get to go to Wales. Isn't that by Sweden or something? Do they speak English? How did they find out about me specifically? I'm not that special. In the note she spoke of me having astounding grades, but last I checked they were mostly average. The only thing that really stood out about me was...whatever I can do with the powers. It almost seems like I'm the main character of some X-Men comic. I wonder how I can control it, well...whatever it is. It didn't seem like I have a common super power like telekinesis or invisibility. I was able to travel to my house from school in a matter of seconds, and I could also turn my hands into some inky...shadow thingie.

'Is that all I can do?' was the last thing I thought of before drifting off to sleep.

School was terrible. Now friendless and seen as a freak by my peers, it was a living nightmare. I guess Austin and Rich spilled everything and now I was the top gossip at school. Ashley would always give me pity glances which rubbed me the wrong way every time. Not trying to open a can my ass. I dealt with glances and whispers everywhere I went. How do they even believe that I have these super powers anyways? Wouldn't seem like Rich and Austin where loony? Well I thought that until...

"Hey you slut!" A voice shouted, I didn't think it was to me so I didn't stop walking to my next class. "Hey I'm talking to you (l/n)!" Which made me freeze in my tracks...slut? I turned around slowly, scared of what I was about to hear next.

"M-me?" I asked pointing to myself, clearly confused. It was a kid in one of my classes, his name was Max or something.

"Yeah you!" He retorted like I was an idiot. "You really think you're all that trying to get with Rich, your best friends boyfriend huh."

Excuse me what? I hate Rich, and I wouldn't do that to Ashley, I actually cared for her. I furrowed my eyebrows, a frown etched onto my face. So they didn't tell the truth, but instead chose to spread lies about me. Okay now I truly hated them all.

"No, I didn't do that," I responded trying to not get too angry. Don't worry me, I'm leaving this hell hole soon. I'm going to a nice little island where no one here can bother me. Tomorrow I'm leaving on plane then the rest by ferry, all will be well.

"Now you're just trying to save face," He sneered as kids started to gather around. "You're such a slag."

That was it, I felt so incredibly frustrated and angry that tears streamed down my face, "I'M NOT A SLAG!" I screeched and ran off to the bathroom. I angrily wiped at my tears as I locked myself in a stall. I took out my phone and called my moms work phone.

"(Y/n)?" She asked with slight concern. "Is something the matter? You know I'm at work and can't chat for long."

"I-I want t-t-to go home," I stuttered through my tears. "C-can you pick m-me up?"

"I-I can try," She responded sounding a bit stressed. "I'll be there as soon as possible."

I sat in the bathroom for a bit over an hour as I tried to calm myself down. I took deep breathes as I tried to think happy thoughts. The new school I'm going to attend, puppies and kitties, how cool the internet is. Then my freedom came as I heard the intercom ask for me at the front office.

My mom and I drove quietly back to our house. The windows were down and the fresh breeze made everything better. I noticed that she would glance at me, like she wanted to ask me what happened but decided against it. I let out a deep sigh. I'll thankfully never have to see anyone from that school in a long time. Kinda weird that my power didn't work that time.

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