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nadineof30s · 1 year

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I Will Always Be With You

Peculiar Reader/Miss Peregrine (platonic)

Very angsty Miss P/reader prompt. Miss Peregrine sacrifices herself for her children.

Warnings: heavy angst, violence, major character death

Also, I have a mixture of the book/movie versions. Everyone is their book version apart from Miss Peregrine. Eva Green will always be my Miss P <3

It was a day like any other, or so I thought. The other children and myself were enjoying the day, spending much of it outside. I was stepping on the rope that kept little Olive from floating away while sketching her and the ocean scene behind her. She was laughing and holding her arms out as the wind blew her hair wildly, her eyes closed to keep herself from being blinded by the sun. I smiled as I worked on capturing her cheerful expression on paper. Emma and Bronwyn had joined Millard, Hugh, and the twins in a rowdy game of football, Olive in charge of fetching the ball from a nearby tree or hedge when one of the older children, usually Hugh, kicked it just a bit too hard.

“Come on, Hugh, just because you’re losing doesn’t mean you have to be a poor sport!” Millard exclaimed after Hugh had managed to kick the football up into a hedge for the fourth time.

“Me? A poor sport? Poppycock!” Hugh retorted, shrugging coyly. Olive giggled and tugged on the rope, motioning for me to loosen it so she could float over to where the ball was stuck at the top of a dinosaur-shaped hedge. She stretched her little arms towards it and picked it up. She turned around and gingerly dropped the ball down in front of Millard. He scoffed at Hugh before picking it up and running back over to the makeshift football field.

“Y/N I think I want to get down now. It’s almost supper time!” Olive yelled down to me. I lost track of time and hadn’t realized just how late it was.

“Okay, just a minute!” I called back up to her. I had strayed a ways away from where Olive’s lead shoes were laying in the grass. I picked up the rope and dragged Olive with me over to our original spot. I began to shorten the rope, pulling her close enough to fasten a shoe onto one of her feet. She then sank just enough to where I could hand her the other one.

“Thanks, Y/N!” she chirped just before putting on her other shoe and skipping off towards the house. I began putting my drawing stuff away into my bag. Before I could sling it over my shoulder, I heard Miss Peregrine calling us in for supper.

“Come now, children, it’s already 5:32!” I heard her shout. Two minutes late may not have been much, but to an ymbryne that was as bad as an hour of tardiness. I jogged towards the door. Miss Peregrine gave me a disapproving look.

“Sorry, Miss P! To be fair, I haven’t been late in thirty four years!” I pointed out. She let a slight smile tug at the corners of her mouth and then shook her head at me. I squeezed past her and found my place at the dinner table. Miss Peregrine was unusually quiet during our meal. Normally she liked to start a polite conversation about everyone’s day, but instead kept her head down and picked at the food in front of her. I caught her gaze a time or two, but couldn’t quite read the emotion on her face.

After dinner was over, I helped clear the table while the rest of the children got ready for movie time. Miss Peregrine and I stacked the plates without speaking, the sound of hard porcelain clanking together the only thing there to break our silence. I carried my pile to the kitchen sink, where my ymbryne stood waiting to wash them. I placed them on the counter and stood next to her awkwardly for a moment, eventually working up the courage to ask her the question that had been bothering me all evening.

“Miss Peregrine, is something wrong?” I watched her face carefully for any change in expression. She remained stoic.

“No, dear, everything is fine,” she answered, not even moving her focus from the dishes in front of her.

“Miss P, I know when you’re lying. Lying is highly uncivilized.” I mimicked the quote she always used on us when we were caught being untruthful. She smiled and paused for a minute, finally tearing her gaze from the task at hand.

“Well, miss Y/N, you are correct about that,” she admitted, holding back a light giggle. You nodded and gave her a knowing look, hands on your hips. She dropped the smile on her face and sighed heavily.

“I just…have a bad feeling about today. That’s all.” She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, indicating it was a senseless reason to be stressed. But I knew better. Miss Peregrine’s intuition was hardly ever wrong. I stared at the floor for a moment, my mind running a mile a minute trying to come up with a reason for her bad feeling.

“Really, it means nothing. I haven’t a good reason to feel this way, so I don’t want any of you to worry about it. Do you understand?” She shot me a stern look. I knitted my eyebrows together in disagreement.

“But, Miss P, you’re never wrong about anything,” I countered. I knew I could get away with more than the others when it came to Miss Peregrine. I could tell she had a soft spot for me, though, she would never admit it. She claimed to “care for each and every one of us equally.” I watched her try to keep her expression rigid, but eventually she couldn’t help the grin that took over her face yet again.

“While I appreciate the faith you have in me, even us ymbrynes are wrong from time to time.” She placed a slightly damp hand on my shoulder squeezing lightly, her piercing blue eyes regaining the spark that seemed to be missing just a few moments earlier. I decided to drop the subject and nodded my head at her. I helped finish the dishes without another word.

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It was just before reset. We were all getting ready for bed before walking outside to watch. I perched myself on the edge of a chair in front of the large mirror placed in the far corner of my room, brushing my long, brown hair and struggling to put it in a loose braid. Usually, I would ask Miss Peregrine to braid my hair for me, but I didn’t want to bother her since she’d had such a stressful day. At this point, my hair was beginning to resemble a nest more so than actual hair. I was on my third attempt when I began to hear rattling throughout the house. The chair I was sitting on shook, and my reflection in the mirror wobbled. The pictures on my wall swayed dramatically from side to side. I gasped and jerked my head to look behind me as one of them fell, the glass from the frame shattering into a million pieces. I stood up abruptly and threw open the door to the hallway. Miss Peregrine was frantically gathering everyone and sending them down the stairs.

“What’s happening? Is it the bombs?” I shouted over the loud boom coming from outside. But even I knew there was another half hour or so before they were due at reset. Miss Peregrine stopped and looked at me. She shook her head, eyes wide with fear.

“No, it’s the wights and their hollows,” she said almost too quietly for me to hear. My heart sank. The very thing we tried to hide from for over sixty years had finally come to take us. I stood frozen, chest heaving as my breath quickened. My head swam and I could only hear muffled shouts coming from Miss Peregrine, who was trying to get me to move. A particularly violent explosion from outside shook the house and knocked me to the ground. After several seconds, I shook my head and saw a hand extended in front of me. I grabbed onto it and the the ymbryne pulled me to my feet then took my face in her hands.

“Are you alright?” She asked, checking me over for wounds. I nodded my head and she sighed in relief, but only for a brief second before continuing to shoo us downstairs. I followed her and the others down to the parlor, where she shut the door and locked it. She told us to draw the curtains shut, so we did. She then looked at all of us, no doubt making sure we were all present.

“Alright everyone. I need you all to stay calm,” she announced, pulling herself together remarkably fast. We watched her walk over to the bookcase on the right hand wall.

“Bronwyn, can you help me move this please?” she asked as calmly as she could, the crashing sounds from outside the house still in full force. Bronwyn nodded her head, determined. With a grunt she moved the enormous bookcase over just enough to reveal a dark passageway. My eyes bulged in surprise. I never knew that was there in the many decades I had lived in that house, although I suspected that was on purpose to keep it a secret.

“Okay, I need everyone to make a single file line and follow Emma into this tunnel.” Miss Peregrine pointed to the dark passageway. Emma held a ball of fire in her hands and walked into the tunnel first, Olive and Claire following just behind her. I started to follow behind Horace, but Miss Peregrine grabbed my hand to stop me. She pulled me aside while the others pushed their way through.

“Y/N I need you to do something for me,” she pleaded, digging around in the pocket of her dark blue blazer. I nodded my head anxiously. She pulled out a silver pocket watch with ‘Alma Lefay Peregrine’ etched on the cover. It was the timepiece that allowed her to reset loops. She held it towards me. Miss Peregrine never separated herself from her timepiece. I shook my head and backed up a step.

“Why are you giving me this? Aren’t you coming with us?” I choked, tears pricked my eyes. Deep down I already knew the answer. She looked at me with glassy eyes, tears beginning to stain her cheeks.

“No, my love. The wights will never stop looking for me. None of you stand a chance if I come with you. I need you to protect this for the sake of everyone. If they get a hold of it and me, there’s no telling what kind of evil could be accomplished. I have to remove myself from it. My one duty as an ymbryne is to protect you all.” She let out a quiet whimper, failing to hold back her sobs any longer. I gingerly took the timepiece and put it in my robe pocket. I looked up at her, my tears flowing freely now. I jumped as a loud crash sounded from the front door. The wights broke through it. I trembled in fear. Everyone but Bronwyn had made their way down the tunnel. She stayed behind to wait for us so that she could move the bookcase back to its original position. Her somber expression and glassy eyes told me that she heard every word. I turned back to Miss Peregrine, shaking my head in denial.

“But, Miss Peregrine, we need you!” I exclaimed, still in disbelief. She pulled me into a tight hug as I sobbed.

“No, dear, I needed all of you. It has been my privilege to care for you. All of you,” she cried. I held onto her even tighter, not wanting to let her go. She was like a mother to all of us and it was heartbreaking to have to say goodbye to her, possibly for forever. She stroked the hair on the back of my head and cooed words of comfort into my ear.

“I love you, mum,” I whispered between sobs. She stroked my hair and I felt her shoulders tremble.

“I love you too, darling.” She pulled away from me. She held my face in her hands and wiped away the tears streaming down my face with her thumbs. She held her forehead to mine for a few seconds before pulling back and placing a soft kiss where our heads had just met. She sniffled, took a deep breath, then grasped both of my hands in hers.

"No matter where you are, I will always be with you." She gave me a weak smile and squeezed my hands one last time before turning to Bronwyn.

They exchanged goodbyes and a brief hug just as we heard banging on the parlor door. She hurried us into the tunnel and motioned for Bronwyn to pull the bookcase back to its original place. I looked into her eyes and only saw regret. She put a hand over her mouth and gave me one last glance before Bronwyn sealed the tunnel. I heard a loud bang, then shouts from the other side of it. The wights got what they came for. I tried pushing the bookcase back so I could save her, but it was too heavy for me. Bronwyn pulled me away and kept me quiet. She forced me down the tunnel and we eventually made it out the other side where the others stood waiting. The tunnel came out to the very front of the house, just beyond the pond that lay between us and the front door. The rain came down on us hard, soaking our hair and clothes within a few seconds. All the other wards looked at me and Bronwyn. Our red eyes and sniffling noses were enough to tell them that Miss Peregrine wasn’t coming. Emma covered her mouth in shock, some of the younger children started to cry loudly. I had to look away to avoid losing my composure once more. My eyes widened as I heard the bomber planes near us overhead. I touched the timepiece in my pocket and the realization hit me like a freight train. There would be no reset, and Miss Peregrine was still inside. I shouted and tried to run towards it, but Bronwyn and Emma held me back. We watched in horror as the bomb dropped and landed on the house, destroying it in one massive explosion. I stared in shock, shingles and pieces of wood flying in every direction. I stood there motionless, the fight completely leaving my body. No screams, no tears, nothing came out. I was completely numb as I watched the house, our home, go up in flames.

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With heavy hearts, and some of us still in tears, we headed down to the beach to get out the rowboats and escape. To where, we had no idea. Bronwyn, being the strongest both physically and mentally, made sure we all stayed together. She uncovered the rowboats and assigned groups of us to each one. We worked together to push them towards the water, when we stopped and listened. From a ways away, we could just make out a boat upon the horizon. I could hear laughter, and muffled voices. Male voices. Horace conveniently pulled a pair of binoculars out of his satchel. It almost made me feel bad for making fun of him for carrying those things around all the time. His breath caught in his throat as he made out the image before him.

“What is it Horace?” Emma asked, voice still weak from crying. He paused as he lowered his binoculars.

“It’s…the wights. They have something with them,” he stuttered out.

“And? What was it?” I snapped. He looked at me as if he’d seen a ghost.

“It was a peregrine falcon.”

#mphfpc #mphfpc reader insert #miss peregrine x reader #miss peregrine imagine #alma peregrine #mphfpc fanfic #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #emma bloom #bronwyn bruntley #millard nullings #horace somnusson #olive elephanta #miss peregrines home for peculiar children imagine #angsty #angst imagine

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gayandawreck · 19 days

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I was writing a mphfpc fanfic in class too day and look how slay my hand writing is

#mphfpc #fanfic #mphfpc fanfic

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hitomashi · 9 months

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reminder to everyone that the red eyed boy (MPHFPC oc fic) still exists and that once I get a new computer I WILL be revisiting this !!

#leo's fandom posting #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #mphfpc #mphfpc oc #mphfpc fanfic

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just-another-nemophilist · 2 years

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A list of absolutely phenomenal Wattpad writers who are active in the MPHFPC fandom:

- lauriethelast

- shewholived

- _glittery_glitter_

- Roryroo

- _mrsnullings_

- prophetboys

If you have any recommendations, feel free to add!!!

#mphfpc #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #mphfpc fanfic #ff #fanfictions #fanfic #wattpad

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phoenixnewton · 2 months

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Loop Mornings

Enoch O’Connor x Reader Fluff

Miss Peregrines Home for Peculair Children

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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sam1kath · 10 months

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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.

#alma lefay peregrine #mphfpc #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #alma peregrine #miss peregrine #ymbryne #fanfic #alma peregrine x reader #miss peregrine x reader #miss peregrine book

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sissytobitch10seconds · 18 days

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A Peculiar Flock of Crows: Birds of a Feather

Fandom: Grishaverse: Six of Crows and Shadow and Bone Summary: It's not often that peculiars are found without a ymbryne when they previously had one, but it's even more rare to find one running from their ymbryne. Warnings: Canon-typical violence, human experimentation, and Inej Ghafa's experiences with Heleen Word Count: 8,554 Ship(s): Kaz Brekker & Nina Zenik & Jesper Fahey & Wylan Van Eck & Matthias Helvar & Inej Ghafa

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Guilt crept over her like a second, invisible chains.

The room had gone completely dark when the heavy wooden door was forced shut by Heleen Peacock, the woman that had claimed to be the ymbryne that was going to keep Inej safe. Based on the fact that she had been squirreled away in the basement of a half-bombed out house and had been examined by wights like she was a piece of meat, she was beginning to think that wasn’t quite the case.

Inej had always known that she was special and different, her parents had told her as much. They had a special word for their kind in their language, but it had almost been driven out of her mind by the events of the past couple of days. It had never been spoken around her all that much anyway, as if her family had been worried that if they said it then they would speak the unthinkable into existence. She was living it now, so she supposed that hadn’t really mattered in the long run.

Several days ago, Heleen had approached their camp and asked for people like Inej in the word that the common folk of the world used. Peculiar. Heleen had promised that she would watch after Inej, that she would protect her in the way that the Irish Travelers simply could not. Her parents had been suspicious at first, since many people over the course of their history had tried to come after those of them that were blessed with unnatural talents. Heleen had won them over by proving her status as a ymbryne, twisting her elegant golden hair and pale skin into the drab brown and grand tail of a peacock.

It didn’t take much after that for Inej to pack and bag and get the promise of a return from her mother whispered into her forehead. She was only supposed to leave for a small amount of time, just until the war was over. They had made some kind of plan for her to return from the care of the ymbryne that she wasn’t privy to because her parents still thought of her as a young child.

That was when everything had begun to go down hill, though. Heleen had placed a kind hand on her shoulder for just long enough for the caravans to pass over the next hill. As soon as they were out of sight to the rest of Inej’s family, the woman’s demanear had changed completely. Inej was shuttled into the dark back of a motorcar where she could barely breathe because of the sealed seams of the box. She had spent what felt like hours trapped in that tiny, dark space, until she had arrived at a place that she didn’t recognize.

Her family had very rarely traveled into town and she had usually opted to stay back with her cousins and play instead of deal with the stairs they always got. The closest that she had gotten to actually being in a city was when they had parked their caravans outside of a fishing village when she was seven during a particularly harsh winter. The moment that the box opened, though, she realized that she was on enemy territory and had no frame of reference for how she was supposed to deal with.

Heleen had barely even blinked when her new ward began to cry, which was another sign that all was not right. In the stories that Inej’s grandmother and told all the childings around the fire late at night, they had been informed that the birds took good care of those that were in their flock. They were often treated to lavish meals, dressed in fine clothes that fit them well, always had warm beds, and the best education that money could buy.

The fact that she as being pushed and prodded around so roughly told her that the woman might have been a ymbryne, but she was not a bird. She was not the type of person that would have fawned over children like she was a second mother to them. Inej doubted that she had ever provided anyone with anything resembling an education.

They had marched down into the very basement that Inej was currently trapped in. There had been five other girls, each of them chained with the wall in a way that would prevent them from escaping with their abilities. None of them had known who the other was or how long they had been down there because all of the windows were blacked out. Inej had joined them in their misery, eating stale bread and drinking sips of water that she was allowed.

She didn’t know how long it had been since she arrived, but she knew that she had slept three times, before the men had come down. They had turned on a singular hanging bulb in the basement and then forced each of the girls to their feet. One of them had spoken in a thick accent and was wearing spectacles instead of shades like the rest were. He was the one that let his hands wander over their bodies, pulling their clothes aside so that he could see what they looked like. His fingers grazed places that Inej had never wanted someone to touch. He had spoken about each of them like they were cattle and had made them attempt humiliating things with their powers, even though they were chained to make sure that they couldn’t.

He had taken the girl with long, curly red hair that had been chained next to Inej and promised that he was going to come back for her the next day. She wasn’t about to let that happen. While she had been told stories of the birds and their charges by her grandmother, her uncle had tried to frighten them all with stories of the invisible monsters.

She wasn’t going to let that be her fate. She had too much ahead of her, she had been promised too many things to simply succumb to the idea that she was going to feed a monster that she couldn’t even see. She had decided that she was going to break away from her captors the moment that the wights stepped down into the basement and she was able to see where the escape routes were.

The only problem was, she was only able to use her gift on herself. She had heard of people that had the ability to pass their talents onto those around them as well as using them on their own bodies. Her gift was nothing like that, she had no name for it and any experiment where she had tried to help her cousins had ended in them having a broken bone.

Inej couldn’t help the guilt that overwhelmed her at the idea of having to leave the other girls alone in the basement. She wanted to be the one that took them by the hand and brought them from the dark place, the savior that her parents could be proud of. It would be more than her walking on a wire strung between two of the caravans on her day off or finding a spare lyre from the circus that they were tailing. She wanted to make sure that they didn’t have to face the experiments that were promised to them by the poking, prodding sensations that still plagued her when she tried to sleep.

She couldn’t, though, and she wasn’t about to let that guilt override her ability to go out and live her own life. She would find one of the real birds that could teach her more about what she could do and the world of people like her. She would grow into something fierce and powerful so that she could make sure that things like this never, ever happened again.

Now that she had made that decision, it was going to come to pass. Her body always listened to what she wished it to do. There had never been a time that she had fallen or tripped, unless she had wanted to for the comedic timing of the moment. So when she decided that she no longer wanted to be in the bonds, they fell away from her body and onto the floor. She caught them before they couple tumble all the way down because she knew that was going to be too conspicuous. Chains rattling was normal as they tried to pull towards the comfort of each other or into the corner they used for waist, but the cuffs were louder and heavier.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the other girls when she set her bonds down on the ground. “I’ll try to find someone that can help you and bring them back here. I promise I’ll try.”

None of them said anything. She knew that one of them wasn’t able to speak, didn’t have a mouth to do so. The others she was sure were seething in their rage about her breaking free when they were still held in captivity.

Slowly, she turned on her heel so that her back was to them. If she kept staring at the other peculiars then there was a good chance that she would do it until Heleen came back down and saw that she had tried to escape. After that, she was sure to be sent with the wights so that they could extract her soul and do a number of other horrible things to her.

A shudder ran through her body before she rounded her shoulders and then launched herself forward. Her fingers grasped the edge of the tall windowsill that led down into the basement and she pulled herself up easily. She decided that she wanted to be on the ledge and so she was there, not a single wobble in her posture. She usually liked to tease her parents with that, looking more precarious than her body was even physically capable of being.

She reached towards the window and then curved her fingers around the boards that were placed on the outside. She reached down to the knife that she kept to pin her hair up. It look like nothing more than a bobby pin to the untrained eye, but it had been passed down for generations in her family. It had been given to her for her birthday only a few short months ago and she hadn’t truly appreciated it until them.

She slid the knife into place against the board and then used it as a lever to get the poorly constructed nails to pop out. She was thankful for the war for the first time as well, because it had caused a lot of products to be made smaller or with less of the harder metals that were required for bombs and plains to be used in consumer goods. Her mother had always told her to look for the small things and to be grateful where she could, but she was only understanding that now.

Inej repeated the process with the other nails that were holding the board in. If she had been anyone else, then she wouldn’t have had a single hope of squeezing through the tiny space that the coal slot mate. It was barely half the width of her shoulders. But she was herself, with her second soul, so she knew that her body could do it if she simply demanded it of herself. And she did demand it, because it was crucial to her survival.

She wiggled through the tiny hole and then into the hole that separated the chute from the rest of the ground. The only thing that she had to do after that was place her shoulders against one side and her feet along the other. She wiggled up the hole until she made it to the top, where fresh air and the light of the sun broken down on her like heaven had been offered to her.

When the back of her head hit the cool earth of the outside world, she felt a rush like nothing else overwhelm her. It took all of her self control to not start crying like her brain was screaming at her to. She knew that she wasn’t entirely free, and she had to focus lest she be dragged back into the pit of despair.

Inej flipped around so that she was on her belly and then finished pulling herself out of the pit. She scrambled onto the earth and then up to her feet. She was in the garden of a town in the middle of a sprawling suburb, the other houses close enough that she could have touched them by leaning far enough out of the window. She supposed that if someone wanted to hide the peculiar trafficking trade that they were doing in their basement, a place as busy as the city was a good spot to do it.

She didn’t stand around to look at anything for much longer than that, though. She grasped the edge of the fence to haul herself up and then began to run along the top. She reached and street and flipped down onto the sidewalk where she broke into a run. She knew that she had to look like a sight because her shirt was hanging mostly open, her hair was in a wild mess of matts and tangles around her face, and she was still clutching in knife in her hand.

Despite that, she kept running until she got to the edge of the city and could dart into the woods. She was much more familiar with the countryside and the perils that it held than she was with the peculiar world or the city. She knew that it was a risk to launch herself into a forest that she didn’t know very well, but it was safer than any other alternative that she had.

Her body was listening to her every whim as it always did, so she kept pounding on ahead. She ducked her head to keep the sun out of her eyes and make sure that she wasn’t going to step on any creatures. She could always force herself to run faster or longer, but she wasn’t really looking for the opportunity to find out if she could outlast a wolf.

Turning her head down apparently ended up being the wrong choice to make because only five minutes of running after she did it, she ran into something. She wasn’t able to redirect her course because she was getting tired, so the only thing that she did was stop. Her force wasn’t exerted the other way because she didn’t want it to be, so she only took a step back to see what she had run into.

The man towered over her with a mess of scars where his neck should have been and two completely white eyes. She knew that the wights and white eyes, usually hidden behind black glasses so they could pretend to be blind or hiding from the sun. The depth of the forest had made this one cocky, though she could see why after her gaze darted away from him.

There was a boy about her age laying in the tall grass of the meadow. He had golden-red curls that clung to the front of his forehead with sweat. His skin was pale but dotted with freckles and he was completely lacking in any of the scars that children in her type of family would get. “Are you okay?” she asked him as she darted around the wight.

“N-no, he just tried to kill me,” the boy replied as he pointed an accusatory finger towards the man in question.

Inej knelt down next to him with a single, fluid motion and then wrapped her arms around him. “I don’t think that he can kill us if we run. But you’re going to have to trust me because I’ve never carried anyone and I’ve been running for a really long time.”

“You can’t hold me, you’re way smaller than me,” the boy whispered as he shook his head. “L-look, I think I can distract him but you’re going to have to promise to close your eyes.”

She had already known that the boy she happened across was peculiar, there would be no other reason for a wight to be toying with someone. If a normal person had found out what he was, by some huge stretch of the imagination, then Inej was sure that he would have just killed them. So this was someone that knew about the abnormal powers that some members of society possessed and was trying to steal it from them for their own gain.

“You two do know that I can hear you, don’t you?” the wight asked as he took another step towards Inej and the boy.

They had to act fast or they were going to lose the surprise that she had accidentally caused. She kept her arms wrapped tightly around the boy’s front and then buried her eyes in his shoulder. She shouted, “Now!”

Her ears felt like they were popping a million times over, like she had somehow managed to dive from the tip of the sky to the bottom of the ocean. She was overcome with a rush of red and yellow heat that made her skin feel tender after it was gone. She would have been forced back by the wind whipping around them if she had wanted her body to respond to that.

Instead, she tried not to think too much about what had just happened and focused instead on picking up the boy in her arms. She could feel the natural strain of her muscles, something that always happened when she was exerting herself to the limits of her power. Inej knew that this wasn’t the time to decide that she could give up on something important. She forced herself to stand up and then to take the first couple of steps forward before she imagined herself running at the same speed that she had been before.

They were whirling through the forest within a couple of seconds, passing by the massive trees and bramble thickets. Inej didn’t stop until she spotted a cave a few yards away from the path that they were taking around the pine needles and grass. She turned and then rushed them into it so that they were shrouded in darkness, where she promptly collapsed next to the ground.

They were both panting as they tried to bring in the air that their bodies were craving. She wasn’t sure what the boy had done, but it was clear that whatever it was had taken a lot of out of him. “A-are you like me?” he asked, breathlessly raising himself onto one arm.

“If you mean peculiar, then yes,” she breathed out a slow, low breath so that her lungs would stop heaving. It worked like it had every time before, and she rose so that her legs were crossed underneath him.

“I don’t really know what that means. I just thought that maybe you could do things that other people can’t. I’ve always been able to do something weird, but I thought that I was the only one. But you shouldn’t have been able to pick me up and run away from him like that, we got away way faster than he could go and he was full grown,” the boy explained.

Inej couldn’t help but giggle. She was tired and worn out, her stomach was craving food that she didn’t have, her mouth was parched for water she didn’t trust, and her legs ached with exertion. She had just run away from a man that had wanted to experiment on her and a woman that her parents had trusted to take care of her. Arguably, she should have been sobbing her eyes out and shaking with fear. Instead, she was giggling at him until she saw the pout on his lips and burst out into full chuckles. “I’m sorry, I know that you’re just going by the only things that you’ve been taught, but you’re literally describing what being peculiar is. It means that we can do things that other people can’t, or we’re different from them.”

“What can you do?”

“You go first,” she replied as she knocked the tip of her toe against his leg.

He flushed a dark red and then brought his legs up to his chest. “I’ve always been able to summon explosions. I don’t know what causes it and I really, really want to. I just think about something too hard and then the entire thing just,” he pushed the tips of his fingers together and then flared them out so that none of them were touching.

Inej thought about it for a moment, tilting her head to the side. The boy spoke with the rounded, perfect letters of someone that had grown up in high society. It was the kind of accent that she had heard her cousins imitating when they came across someone rude while traveling. “I’ve always been able to control what I want my body to do. I can’t fall, I can’t trip, I can’t do anything unless I let myself.”

“Do you have to breathe and beat your heart manually too?” he asked.

She thought about it for a second and then shook her head, “I don’t think so. I’ve always just done those things, but I think it’s because no one really considers them as something that your body does. They’re just in the background so that you can be alive.”

They went quiet for a bit, the cave full of the sound of rushing water from the stream in the distance and the boy’s ragged breathing. Eventually, he said, “My name is Wylan, by the way. I’m sorry that I had to drag you into my mess. I didn’t think that my father would actually go through with any of his threats.”

“Your father knew that you were peculiar?” Inej immediately asked. She was probably prying too deep into his past too recently after they had met each other, but she had always been a naturally curious person. She couldn’t help but pry.

“I guess so. I mean, it’s kind of hard to raise a kid that can blow things up with his mind without thinking he’s a bit queer,” he winced when he said that word and then touched his upper arm. “Did your parents know about what you could do?”

“I’m a traveler,” she nodded. “We have another word for it, but we’ve worked closely with them the entire time that we’ve been a people. It’s said to be a great honor to be blessed with the second soul of a peculiar, but right now it feels like a curse.”

Wylan went quiet, curled into a tiny ball while his bright blue eyes bore a hole into her being. “I think that calling it a curse is a bit of an understatement.”

Matthias had been removed from his home three days, four hours, and twenty three minutes ago. He had been trying to get back to the place that he had been born for the exact same amount of time, though most of that was futile. Some part of his brain knew that his home had been burned down to the ground and it was unlikely that anyone had made it out alive, but he couldn’t let go of the hope that his family would be waiting with open arms when he finally got to return to them.

Trassel pressed his wet snout into Matthias’ hand and immediately settled the whirlwind inside of him with a few, simple words, We are never truly without family if we have each other.

“I know that, but that does not mean that I cannot also miss our pack,” he replied bitterly. He wished desperately that the war had not traveled to him, that he would have been able to live closer to Denmark and the other neutral countries instead of living in Finland. He wasn’t even sure that the people had come to hurt him and his family were members of the war instead of people taking advantage of the chaos to hurt unknown strangers.

The world seemed to be against him in every form that he could take, after all. He had been forced to run from a fire so fierce that he could still hear the crackling, popping, snapping of the home that he had known since he was born when he slept. He had spent hours and hours on boats being shipped to England where his aunt lived, only to find that she wasn’t the one waiting for him at the shore.

He had always known the story of the peculiars. It had been passed down through his family that there would one day be a young boy born alongside a white wolf pup. The two would share souls, would name each other, and would be able to speak to each other across the language barrier of humans and animals. Matthias had been that person, the first to be born with that gift since his great-great uncle.

The reminder of the story was enough to make him drag the howling of the fire from his mind. His mother had informed him that she had made a sudden, snap decision to have her first baby at home. They had lived far enough from another home that her father had to race into the center of town instead of going to one of the neighbors so that they could go instead. She had given birth alone, just in time for a white wolf mother to whelp in the barn attached to their home. They had discovered each other in the foggy days after birth, the single babe and the single pup.

Matthias remembered his name being spoken to him by the voice that was ever present, like a constant buzzing in the back of his skull, when he was four. His parents had just been referring to him as the bigger wolf until that point, affectionate nicknames and kisses muttered across his face. He had told them his name and been called that ever since. The same had happened with Trassel, when he realized that he could do the same thing to his companion that had been done to him.

It wasn’t surprising to him that people had started targeting him when they had the distraction of all the other tragedies happening in the world. A boy never seen anywhere without his dog was a peculiar sight, even without the professional meaning of the word. He also wasn’t surprised when he and Trassel had stepped off the docks in England only to be met with a man that called himself Jarl Brum.

He had claimed to be the man that Matthias’ aunt had married, but he knew that was a lie. While his aunt lived on another continent and had fallen out of communication with them to an extent, she would have written about something as important as her getting married. So Matthias had knocked the heavy sunglasses off of his face to reveal a pair of eyes that had no pupil and no iris, a sure sign of the type of peculiar that wanted to hurt people like him.

He had run away as quickly as he could until he found himself at a small village that spoke a language he didn’t know. They were in the depths of the mountains in the north half of the UK, squirreled away from the outside world and happy about it. They didn’t mind much that he was strange and that he didn’t speak their language, they seemed used to boys like him stumbling into the wrong place. They gave him a job that provided him with a single penny for work, but gave him as much food as he could eat and a warm, clean, dry place to rest his head. They also didn’t mind having Trassel around the farm because it meant that he kept away predators and prey looking to dig up the fields.

I am going to go into the woods today, Trassel informed him when he had determined that his boy was settled enough for that to be a good idea. His wolf would never leave his side if there was even the implication that Matthias was somehow upset or in danger in anyway.

“You will check in with me,” Matthias said, the surety in his voice startled even him. Since his family had perished in the fire and he had been forced into hiding in a foreign land, nothing had felt sure.

Trassel responded with a low woof and then bumped his head against Matthias’ hand again. The boy replied by giving his head a firm pat before he returned back to the tiller in his hands. He pushed it forward so that it dug long, even lines through the thick earth that could be planted in. It was monotonous, hard work that none of the others wanted to do. He was told to do it because he had been there for the least amount of time, but he was also bigger than a lot of them were so it made sense to him.

He worked until he felt the spike of panic rush through him. It was a feeling that he had only gotten once before, when he was a little boy and he and Trassel had been playing alone in the woods. They had been told to stay back in the barn or at the edge of the tree line because people had been spotting bears around their home recently, but they were both young so neither of them had listened. Trassel had wandered ahead of Matthias so that he could catch some of the wild wolves, none of which would ever touch the boy who shared a soul with one of their own. He had come across the great, hulking beast only moments before the bear had come down and tried to charge at the young man.

Matthias had turned on his heel and run away from the advancing predator as quickly as he could, but it was still the scariest moment of his life. He had had nightmares about it every night for almost six months, though he was able to tell that some of his nightmares had actually come from his ever-faithful companion. He also knew that while the memories would fade and his perspective of the world would change slightly, he would never forget what it felt like to sense that Trassel was in danger.

He turned his head to the side where his wolf had gone and then rushed in that direction as quickly as he legs would carry him. His muscles burned with the sudden change in what he was doing and his lungs heaved for air that he couldn’t give them. The fight to get closer to his best friend was enough to override that part of his mind so that he stopped listening to it entirely.

He only stopped when he broke into the clearing several yards away from the last house in the village. It had slow, weepy looking grass and was ringed by a couple dozen craggy looking trees that were meant to produce fruit but had never actually managed it. It was a place that he had gone a couple times before, usually when he and Trassel were so overwhelmed that they just had to get away from other people. It made sense that his wolf would explore that place first, but neither of them had been anticipating what they found now.

Trassel was standing at the part of the clearing closest to Matthias, his legs spread wide and the white fur on his spine raised to make himself look bigger. He was a massive animal even without them, so it was a bit intimidating even to Matthias to see him like that. That as the first thing that he had taken in, but it didn’t take him very long to trace the wolf’s gaze to what was making him so angry.

On the other side of the clearing stood two people. One of them was a short woman with bronze skin and a waist-length braid, dressing in an undershirt and a pair of pants that were too big for her. The boy next to her was about a head and a half taller than her with curly red-brown hair and a set of clothing fitting someone that would live in a mansion instead of one that was out in the wilderness. They were both covered in dirt, scraps, and looked absolutely terrified. The boy was standing with his hand pointed out towards Trassel and the girl had what looked to be a very small knife clutched tightly in her hand.

“What is going on here?” Matthias asked. His accent had gotten less thick since he had been staying in the village in the mountains. There were a handful of English speakers from soldiers that had deserted the armies dealing with the war that had taught him the language. He hoped that eventually he would be able to find his aunt so that she could bring him back to the land where he had grown up, so that he could find his parents. That meant that he had to speak the language of the country that he was currently in.

“There-there’s a wolf!” the boy stuttered as he pointed an accusatory finger out towards Trassel.

“Yes, he lives here,” Matthias replied like they were stupid. He knew that it was a bit unfair since they had never been around him before and thus had no idea that it was normal. All of the homesteads where he lived had always understood and respected the relationship that he had with his wolf. The strangers in the village also learned to live with Trassel.

The girl blinked and then slowly righted herself so that she was no longer bracing for an attack that was never actually going to happen. “Why does he live here?”

“Trassel, stop it,” Matthias muttered in his own language to his wolf. He was speaking out loud for the benefit of the others out of an irrational habit that he had formed. It wasn’t like the new people he had just met would know the language that he was speaking, but he had gotten used to it for Mila’s benefit. He answered their question after the wolf had let down his hackles and turned his bright eyes up towards his soul-companion. “He lives here because he is my friend. Don’t you live around your friends?”

“You can speak to him?” the boy asked. He shared a look with the girl and then they both slowly crossed over the meadow.

Matthias opened his mouth so that he could answer but then he remembered the man that had met him on the docks when he was supposed to be traveling to his aunt. He had always assumed that what he had was a gift, that was the way that his family had spoken about it. He wasn’t quite sure that everyone saw it that way, however, based on the fact that it had almost gotten him very hurt.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid of us,” the girl explained.

“Why would I not be afraid of you? You were threatening my wolf,” Matthias scoffed. He didn’t often refer to Trassel as being his in the same way that a dog owner would refer to their hound, but it seemed like the safer option if it turned out that the duo was a threat.

“We’re like you, I think,” the boy said. “My name is Wylan and my friend here is Inej. We were just looking for somewhere that we could stay the night.”

“Are you not traveling with your parents?” Matthias asked. He remembered how stupid of a question that was as soon as it slipped from his mouth. Most children had been separated from their parents because fathers were sent to war or they had been shipped to the countryside for their safety. It was unlikely that the two individuals that he had just encountered were going to be traveling with any adults, much like Matthias himself.

“Our parents aren’t with us,” Inej shook her head, confirming the doubt that Matthias had come to realize.

He took a moment to assess them again. Now that they were no longer standing quite so menacingly at Trassel, it was easier to see them as friends instead of as people that were trying to hurt the part of his soul that they could get to. “My name is Matthias. What did you mean that you think you are like me?” he asked.

The two shared a look before the girl said, “We’re peculiar. We can do things other people can’t, and that means that we’re in danger. Aren’t you the same?”

The image of the man at the docks with his colorless eyes and the creeping doubt on the base of his spine returned to Matthias in a rush. “I… yes. I thought that it was something specific to my family. My parents were anticipating that one of their children might be born with the soul of a wolf, so they were never strange about it. They told me that I was special.”

“You are special,” Wylan nodded. “I-I think we all are, but that also means that there are people that are out to get us.”

He nodded solemnly. While he had only been partially attacked by one person, he knew that there was a danger out there in the world for people like him. “Are you two running from them?” he asked as he looked over their dirty clothes once more.

“We are. I was captured by someone pretending to help people like us so that she could hand us over to people that wanted to experiment on us,” she shuddered at the memory.

Wylan walked over to Matthias with Inej trailing slowly behind him. Now that they knew that Trassel was not a wild animal, he knelt down with his hand exposed to the massive, hulking beast. The wolf leaned forward and sniffed at the appendage before it gave it a single lick and then curled around his human’s feet.

“I believe that I have encountered one of those men too. He had something wrong with his eyes and he was claiming that he knew my aunt. It was why I was not able to go to her,” he explained.

Inej nodded, “That was definitely a wight. They like to take people like us and then use us so that they can try to achieve godhood. The only people that can keep us truly safe are the birds, Wylan and I have been looking for one.”

He turned and looked back at the town that he had been staying in. He was grateful for everything that they had done for him, he could feel it swelling grand and great in his chest. He had always known that it wouldn’t be a place that he would stay for very long. He used it as a safe location to stay while he made his plan, but that plan was developing far faster with the introduction of the two new people than he had thought it would.

“I will come with you. We will look for a bird together. But tonight I think that you should come and get cleaned up. You will have to work for the afternoon but the townsfolk will accept you without questions,” he explained. He wondered if any of the strange-speaking folks he had been staying with knew about people like him and if they had specifically not asked questions because they knew that he was peculiar. He didn’t have much time to think about it outside of that as Wylan and Inej looked like they were about ready to fall over at the mention of a bath and a meal.

They ended up staying for longer than any of them had been anticipating. The travels and Inej’s time in the basement of the bird had taken a lot out the travelers, so they needed some time to recuperate. The process went slower than it would have normally because they were also working around the village and in the fields so that they could earn their keep.

Wylan struggled with actually pushing the plow or bringing down the hoe in the way that was effective, but he worked wonders on some of the old, broken machinery. Inej was best at skittering up the sides of barns, houses, and even the massive church steeple so that they could get some much needed repairs done. Matthias continued to work in the fields and lugging things around because it was something that his great size and farm-ready muscle lent easily to.

They shared the stories of where they had come from and Wylan finally admitted what he really was to someone. His father had always been aware of his gift, as had his mother before her untimely death. He had mentioned it before to Inej and it still held true. It was hard to not realize that a child could make powerful bright lights and explosions with nothing more than his hands. He told them about the way that he had heard his father talking to men without color in their eyes about how much he wanted in place of Wylan.

In turn, Inej spoke of the way that her parents had been fooled by the peacock. She apparently had a lot of very complicated feelings about returning back to them knowing that they had let her easily go to such a horrible place. She also understood that they did what they thought was best for her and no one in her family or caravan would have had any idea that Heleen was not who she said she was.

Matthias shared about how he had grown up with Trassel by his side, both of them aging at the same rate because they shared a soul with the other being. He talked about how he had lost his family and the shock of the differences in language and culture when he had been transported from Finland to England.

The most important thing that spoke about while getting to know each other was the bits and pieces that they knew about the Peculiar world. Inej only had the stories that her uncles and grandmother had told her, which was hard to decipher out of the story and into the reality. Matthias knew the second most but a lot of his information was derived from legends. Wylan felt like he was the most ignorant in a school of people that knew barely anything because he hadn’t known that he was anything less than a freak until about a month ago.

He found community and belonging with his two new companions, to the point where he felt more like himself. He was bolder when it came to singing with the villagers during the full moon when they had their feast day of the month. He got bolder when it came to hugging Inej and Matthias so that he could get the physical touch that he needed to feel truly human.

They rose with each other every morning and then bedded down in the spare bedroom of the root vegetable farmer’s house every night. Trassel would curl down at their feet as they wrapped arms and legs around each other like they would be stolen if they didn’t. They were still virtually strangers, barely knowing the others and yet they had already formed a tighter bond than anyone could hope to in their lives.

Wylan tilted his head up at the cloudy sky as he finished sifting through his thoughts. He was taking a break from trying, and failing, to fix the harvester for the fourth time that week. He knew that if he wasn’t caught in the shade with his thermos of tea from that morning then he was going to get an earful from the town’s grandmother. She was an ancient old crone that spoke only Welsh and Wylan has only passible in his mother’s language. He knew enough to know that he was going to be in a right mess of trouble if he didn’t listen to her.

Something caught his eye from around the barn and he slowly crept to the door. He paused when he caught sight of two people with black hair and a girl with brown. He had been expecting the rolling flashes of white fur that came with Trassel when he was hunting in the woods surrounding the town, so it startled him enough that he fell back.

Wylan could barely scramble to his feet fast enough as he turned to go find Inej. Instead of finding her, since she was likely perched on the top of a roof or in the rafters of a barn, he ran face-first into Matthias’ chest. “What is going on with you?” the older teen asked as he steadied his friend.

“There’re people coming out of the woods!” he shouted as he pointed back towards the barn. Matthias’ face darkened and he jerked his head towards the direction that Inej was no doubt in. It was hard for the other man to be able to translate his thoughts when he was feeling particularly emotional and Wylan had never seen him that angry and protective.

He scrambled towards the church as quickly as he could, darting around the other townsfolk as they went about their business. “Inej!” he called as he spotted the dark blip of her hair amongst the cedar roof shingles.

She turned around, her face obviously pinched with worry. She held up a single finger and then returned to her work. She finished it with the efficiency of someone that wanted to get it over with before she slipped down onto the ground with a fluid movement. Wylan opened his mouth in amazement before he remembered that Matthias was on his own, facing three people that might want to kill him so that they could harvest his soul. “There are people in the woods,” he repeated, calmer that time.

“People in the woods? Like the villagers?” she asked, her eyes flickering out towards everyone.

“No, people about our age. One of them is like really tall,” he explained. He felt his cheeks flush when he realized that was the only thing that he had focused on when he had caught them. It was the detail that was sticking to the forefront of his brain despite their clothing, the presence of weapons, or just about anything else being more pertinent.

“Maybe they’re just more deserters,” Inej shrugged. Despite that, she was following the path that Wylan had come so that they could check on their friend.

“They had a girl with them,” Wylan shook his head. He didn’t necessarily agree with the way that women were treated given all of the hurt that he had seen his mother go through because of her gender and nothing else, but he knew that it was a truth he was currently powerless to fight. Inej shot him a worried look and then charged ahead of him so that she could get to Matthias before something happened.

Wylan took after her but his peculiarity had nothing to do with speed, stamina, or his body, so he was going way slower than she was. By the time that he got back to the barn, his chest was heaving and his heart was hammering in his chest. He had to pause after he pushed the door opening, lowering his body down so that he could grasp the tops of his thighs and brace himself from falling over.

He tilted his head up and then saw that nothing like what he had feared was going down. Inej was standing with her knife twirling over the back of her knuckles. Matthias had Trassel beside him and was carding his long, calloused fingers through the wolf’s hackles to put them back where they belonged. The three people that Wylan had seen before were seated on the haybales near the edge of the barn, which allowed him to get a better look at them around the tractor he had been working on.

The tallest man had dark skin and coiled hair that was cropped close to his head. His body was lithe but farm muscular, his arms nearly bursting out of the worn white button down that he was wearing. The boy next to him had hair that was shaved on the sides and long on the top, which accentuated the high cheekbones and quizzical brow. The girl on the other side of the tall boy had long, wavy brown hair and pale skin that was dotted with freckles. They all looked better than Inej and Wylan had when they were traveling through the wilderness, but they had obviously not had a bath or a proper meal in a while.

“I’m confused, you three found this place by accident?” the girl asked, scooting forward on the haybale.

“We did,” Wylan spoke over the others as he came to stand beside Inej. “What’s going on?”

“These three are peculiars. Meet Nina, Jesper, and Kaz. They’re traveling to find a loop as well,” Inej explained easily.

Matthias then said, “I believe that it would be a good idea for us all to travel together. There is safety in numbers and we all have the same goal.”

“What makes you think that we can trust you?” the boy, who was apparently named Kaz, said in a raspy tone.

“Kaz, stop,” Nina groaned as she placed both of her hands onto her face. She took a deep breath and then righted herself, “As I was explaining to your companions, we’ve been traveling for quite some time to find somewhere that we can rest while we work out the location of another loop. We don’t have a Map of Days or anything of the sort, so it’s been a bit of a struggle. This place is hidden from the outside world and only recently became known to peculiars as a haven. The people don’t care about who you are or what you can do as long as you can work.”

It was eerie to hear an outsider describe the very thing that they had found all on their own. “So we’ll all travel together as soon as you two have rested?” Wylan asked, glancing over the three of them. He tried not to let his gaze focus for too long on Jesper lest his mind start wandering to unfavorable places.

“Sounds good to me,” the aforementioned teenager stretched his long arms above his head and accentuated the beautiful way that his chest muscles flexed under his nearly too-small shirt.

Wylan felt his face flush and bit back a groan of disappointment. He was really in it now.

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mooncakesofpan · 2 years

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I read on your masterlist you write poly, would you write reader (or oc which ever your comfortable with) dating Olive and Enoch. Maybe Jacob was unintentionally flirting with her and reader not really having experience with that other than her loves (being with them for like 50 years or something so she only really knows their way of flirting), doesn’t realise and they get jealous and pouty - all really fluffy though!

Enoch x Fem!Reader x Olive

A/n: I really hope you like this sorry it took so long. I went and chose a peculiarity so I went with giant wings similar to angel wings.

Warnings: Fluff, Established Polycule , she/her pronouns, jealousy

Word count:834

MPHFPC Masterlist | Main Masterlist

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK

The three of you were outside Jacob has been given a small tour of the house with the three of you outside Enoch and olive were on a picnic blanket while you were spread out a bit of your stomach on the other blanket you bought knowing you wrings wouldn't fit on the one Enoch and olive laydown. The white feathers having a nice feeling of wind passing under them Enoch rubs the base of your wings knowing the area would be sore

“Woah shes beautiful he wings are like gorgeous”

you look up to see Emma rolling her eyes and dragging Jacob away

“the Bird want the three of you to get ready for supper.” Emma yells looking at Jacob “Olive and Enoch are very protective of y/n''

Jacob looks back to see Enoch glaring at him while still softly rubbing your wings

“come on dear we don't want the bird mad at us for being late” Olive says rubbing the side of your wing.

You close your wings and lift you body when you stand up your met with the red heads soft lips.

You hear Enoch get up and grab the blankets behind you.

“As much as I would love to stay out here with you two the bird wants us for supper.” he says kissing your and olive’s forehead.

They both guide you inside by your hand you clean up for supper sitting on the stool in your spot jakes goes to sit next to you but jumps up with a yelp. Millard had been sitting there nude. Enoch's eyes had been on Jacob’s back since he walked in the room and glared harder as Jake tried to sit next to you after Millard was yelled at for trying to eat in the nude.

“Enoch are you okay?” you grab his hand your eyes noticed his furrowed brow and intense glare at the newest boy in the house.

“I think Enoch is jealous.” Horace says from across the table

“Why would Enoch be jealous.” you say looking around the table olive goes to open her mouth cut off by the bird “No one in this house should be jealous of any one I suggest the three of you discuss this as a private matter not at the dinner table.” Miss Peregrine says.

The three of you nodded looking down at your plates being given the okay to eat you sit in silence confused why would Enoch be jealous the thought runs threw the your mind all the way threw dinner. Everyone slowly going around the table introducing yourselves to Jacob.

“And your name.” Jake says from his spot next to me. “oh y/n l/n nice to meet you” you say with a friendly smile. You all finish up dinner and your on dish duty you pick up dishes along piling them “oh y/n let me help you”

“Oh no I got it Jacob” you say balancing “Here dove let me help, I have to make the hot coco anyway,” Olive says quickly, grabbing some of the dishes from your hands and bringing you into the kitchen away from the blue-eyed teen in the dining room. Olive wasn't lying, she really did need to make the hot coco, and she typically would help bring in the dishes after supper but she felt urgent to get you away from the raven in the dining hall.

You walk in the room that held a screen and a chair in the back for horace olive and each reserved a spot between them with enough room for your wings to feel comfortable on the couch.

“Oh y/n you should sit here” Jacob suggested your red headed lover wasn't a fan of this “actually love would you like me or Enoch to rub your wings” olive says knowing you weren't going to turn down the offer to relieve the tension in your joints, laying between Enoch and Olive.

The night started coming to a close with you Enoch and Olive in your bedroom having the biggest bed for your wings.

“Olive, Enoch, what's with you two today? I love the attention but you two have been awfully attentive today.”

Both Enoch and olive look at each other then back at you “dove jakes been flirting with you all day” Olive says grabbing your hands “He's been flirting with me.“ you say confused.

“Love he's been trying to sit and talk with you all day” Enoch says

It dawns on you that Jacob had been flirting with you but being with Enoch and Olive you weren't really interested in anyone but the two for so long.

“Oh I didn't realize, I've been with you two for so long it didn't even occur to me” you say smiling at them softly.

“It okay love it's not your fault let's just lay down.” Enoch says dragging you to your bed.

“I love you both” they gave love you too’s as a response holding you as you started falling asleep.

#mphfpc #olive elephanta #enoch o'connor #enoch x olive #enoch o'connor x reader #olive x reader #poly x reader #fem!reader #x fem!reader #fem reader #x reader #fanfic #mphfpc x reader #fanfic request

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devine-devil · 17 days

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A new era: Explaining some concepts of this fic

"A new era" (ANE) was born with the thought of "what if Caul had won? How would this story end?" So I decided to write this apocalyptic story.

ANE addresses mature content themes, after all Caul achieved everything he wanted. I was very honest with the tags, there is very mature content in 4 or 5 chapters out of the 32 posted, the story is more than violence of course, but I don't want anyone to start reading thinking it's going to be something light. It is not.

A New Era is the story I always wanted to find on AO3, it's a brutal story of survival, sometimes we forget but mphfpc is brutal. Only in the first 3 books do we see themes such as cannibalism, suicide, exploitation, addiction, human trafficking and exploitation of child labor.

The brutality that exists in the Canon also exists in this fanfic, Mature themes such as trauma, abuse and total despair are present in this work. These are difficult topics to write about and I did the right thing, which is not to romanticize any of it.

I hope you like the fanfic

When I started this fanfic I didn't know about the existence of the second trilogy, so characters from the second trilogy haven't appeared yet (because I haven't read it all yet). But over time I also add characters from the second collection.

#ao3 #fanfic #writing #mphfpc #miss peregrines home for peculiar children

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coffeeanddimlights · 11 months

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Emma Bloom HCs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#mphfpc #emma bloom #jacob portman #abe portman #noor pradesh #enoch o'connor #horace somnusson #hugh apiston #bronwyn bruntley #millard nullings #fiona frauenfeld #claire densmore #olive elephanta #alma peregrine #emma's girlfriend's name is summer blakely btw #i love sapphic emma #i hc bronwyn as aro ace because she seems to have 0 interest in romance in general #i know its unpopular since emma x bronwyn is a big thing but idk she gives off more ace vibes then lesbian to me #sorry emwyn shippers i still love u tho nice fanfics

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nadineof30s · 1 year

Text

Mary Who?

Peculiar Reader/Miss Peregrine (Platonic)

A Christmas imagine/fanfiction to celebrate Christmas coming up in a few days! Lots of innocent fluff. I hope it's not too cringy lol.

Warnings: Very subtle implications of neglect

Today everybody was buzzing around the house, excited that it was finally winter. We kept track of the days on a little calendar Miss Peregrine hung in the kitchen. Technically the first day of winter wasn’t for a few weeks, but since it was December, everybody said that it counts anyway. I was embarrassed to find out just how much about the world I didn’t know. I knew about months, just not all of their names, and I had previously noticed the changing weather throughout the year, just not the logistics of it. Living in a poor, neglectful household doesn’t exactly encourage a well-rounded education. Luckily Miss Peregrine was able to privately catch me up, for the most part, so I wouldn’t have to humiliate myself around the others.

It was mid afternoon, just after tea time, and I was sitting in the parlor reading a book I was behind on for one of Miss Peregrine’s book discussions she makes us do, when I heard laughing and the sound of something being dragged across the wood floor. I furrowed my brow and looked up to see Bronwyn dragging a huge fir tree into the house, with a proud Fiona skipping in behind her. My eyes widened in surprise.

“Woah, why are you dragging a tree into the house? Miss Peregrine will have a fit!” I stood up and pointed to the trail of pine needles leading to the still open front door.

“Don’t worry, she knows! We always put up a tree on the first of December. I did a pretty great job on this one, eh Bronwyn?” Fiona asked, face full of pride.

“Sure. It might not fit in the parlor, though. I think it’s going to touch the ceiling!” Bronwyn grunted before sighing in relief as she let the tree fall to the floor.

“I don’t understand. Why would we have a tree in the house? It’ll die and drop needles everywhere,” I thought out loud, puzzled.

“It’s December silly. There’s only twenty-four more days until Christmas! Merry Christmas!” Fiona yells, clearly very excited about the thought of it. My face scrunches up with confusion.

“Who’s Mary…Chris…mass?” I attempted to repeat the word Fiona had just said. She laughed and shook her head at me.

“Nice one, Y/N,” she giggled. I laughed with her, realizing this was probably another obvious thing about life I failed to learn.

“Help us decorate the tree. It’ll be fun!” Fiona practically shouted. I wasn’t exactly sure why or how you would even decorate a tree, much less bring it inside.

“Sure! Just give me a minute…” I trailed off before leaving the room and running up the stairs to Miss Peregrine’s study. I would ask her who Mary was, since she knows absolutely everything. I stopped outside her door and paused before knocking lightly. I heard a quiet “come in!” from behind the door, then entered the room. I walked in to find Miss Peregrine sitting behind her desk looking frustrated with whatever she was working on. Her fingers rubbed her temples while her hair looked slightly disheveled. I suddenly felt like this may not be a good time to ask her about this mystery person.

“Hi, Miss Peregrine!” I greeted her with the most cheery voice I could muster, hoping to put her mind at ease. She leaned back in her chair and smiled at me.

“Hello, Miss Y/N. You seem rather cheerful this afternoon.”

“Well, yes it is a beautiful day, Miss P.” I gestured to the window, the sun streaming through it creating a nice, natural light.

“Yes…it’s always a nice day?” She half asked, looking a bit perplexed. She of course was referring to the fact that it was always warm and sunny in our loop. That much I knew.

I nodded my head at her, the same, probably slightly unnerving, smile on my face and my hands clasped behind my back. She let out a light giggle at my strange behavior.

“Is there something you need, Y/N?” she asked after a moment.

“Oh, yes Miss P. I was only wondering who Mary is,” I asked her before plopping down in the chair across from her. She furrowed her brow at me and thought for a moment.

“I’m sorry, I think I will need more context.” She looked at me with confusion.

“Well I saw Bronwyn carrying a tree into the parlor and Fiona kept talking about somebody named Mary…Chris-Mass?” I was pretty sure I wasn’t saying her last name correctly. A big smile covered her face and it was clear she was holding back a laugh by the way her shoulders shook.

“Yes, Y/N, what she was referring to was the winter holiday, Christmas,” she said knowingly, “you remember when we talked about holidays, don’t you?”

“Oh yes! I do, I just don’t remember talking about…Christ…mas?” I paused before attempting to pronounce Christmas.

“I’m afraid I may have forgotten to actually go through them all with you. Christmas is a wonderful holiday, known to many religions as the celebration of the birth of Christ,” she explained.

“Oh. Well, what does that have to do with bringing a huge tree inside?” I asked, still confused.

“That is an age-old tradition, usually observed by normals. But a few of the children loved the idea so we started to recognize it ourselves. You bring a fir tree inside your house and then decorate it with all kinds of colorful ornaments.”

“But…why?” I still didn’t quite get it.

“It connects to another tradition practiced by normals. There’s a large man dressed in red who uses a sleigh driven by reindeer to deliver presents to all the children of the world. He supposedly puts them underneath the fir tree. It is just a fable that is decidedly untrue, but still a fun thing to think about, isn’t it? His name is Santa Claus. It’s usually something parents do for their children to make the season even more magical,” she clarified. I laughed slightly at her description of this strange person. And also the thought of anyone’s parents making up something so silly.

“Hm that’s so weird! He breaks into people’s houses,” I giggled. She grinned and nodded her head.

“Well, yes, I suppose you could think of it that way. We do usually give each other gifts on the twenty fifth for Christmas, but I think Santa Claus is just a bit much.”

I nodded in agreement. We sat in a comfortable silence for a minute or two.

“Why don’t you go back downstairs and help the others decorate the tree. It’s more fun than it sounds, I promise!” Miss Peregrine suggested.

“Okay. Thanks, Miss Peregrine!” I exclaimed before I got up from the chair and raced back down to the parlor.

She shook her head endearingly, and continued her work with a huge grin on her face.

—

It was almost Christmas which meant I only had two more days to come up with a gift for Miss Peregrine. I already had gifts together for everyone else, but was struggling to think of something for Miss P. I was sitting at the desk in my room, staring at the blank piece of parchment in front of me. It was meant to be full of present ideas, but remained empty. I tapped my pencil against my chin, beginning to lose complete focus. I looked around my room, desperate for inspiration. All I saw was the framed pressed flowers and art on my walls. I perked up abruptly. I finally had an idea.

It was Christmas Eve and everyone was getting ready for bed, excited for Christmas to come. I clutched the sloppily wrapped box to my chest and tip toed down the hallway to Miss Peregrine’s room. I wanted to give the gift to her away from everyone else in case she hated it or it wasn’t as good as I thought. I knocked on the door, and heard shuffling footsteps a moment after. She opened the door a few seconds later. She was wearing a robe over her nightgown and her raven hair was thrown in a loose braid that reached just above her waist.

“Hello, Y/N. Is something the matter?” She asked, looking worried.

“Oh, no, everything is fine! I just wanted to give you this really quick.” I abruptly handed her the box. “Goodnight!” I whisper-yelled so as to not disturb the others. I walked fast to my room down the hallway, leaving Miss Peregrine standing in her doorway with an amused look on her face. It was very obvious I had no idea how this whole “gift-giving” thing worked.

The next day, everyone awoke early, running downstairs to sit in the parlor to begin exchanging gifts. Miss Peregrine stood at the doorway of her study, waiting for her horde of children to run by before descending the stairs herself, leaving the study door half open. I caught a glance of the gift I gave her hanging up in the study just behind her desk. It was a watercolor painting of a peregrine falcon sitting on a girl’s shoulder. It was a picture of all of us children with our backs facing whoever looked at it. I was in the middle and the falcon sat peacefully on my shoulder, only the falcon was facing the opposite direction. Its facial expression dared anyone to come near. It was a symbol of our protection. A symbol of Miss Peregrine. It was the closest to a family portrait I ever had. I just recently picked up this new hobby of painting, so I wasn’t sure that I could pull it off. I had to admit that it looked amazing in the beautiful, gold frame Miss Peregrine put it in, to hang above her desk for everyone to look at. After a moment I tore my gaze away from the painting and leapt down the stairs to join the others.

After a successful day of gift giving, we all separated to use or decorate with our new things. I got beautiful pressed flowers from Bronwyn to add to my collection and a lovely blue shawl crocheted by Olive. I was standing on my desk chair, carefully taking down my framed flowers so that I could add the new ones I was given when I heard a knock at my door.

“Come in!” I exclaimed, before sitting on my bed and beginning to remove the glass from the frame. Miss Peregrine walks in the room holding a small, wrapped box.

“Y/N I wanted to thank you for the gift you gave me. It’s absolutely beautiful,” she said smiling.

“Oh, I’m so glad you like it! I’ve never done anything so difficult so I was nervous it wasn’t good,” I told her, somewhat distracted by the task at hand.

“It is breathtaking, Y/N. I had no idea you could paint like that!” Miss Peregrine cried in admiration.

“It’s kind of a newly discovered talent, I guess.” I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly.

“Lovely. Well I also wanted to take the opportunity to give you something.” She held out the box. I took it and smiled widely.

“Thank you Miss Peregrine!” I shouted. I hadn’t received many gifts in my life, so getting one from the person I looked up to the most meant the world to me. I could hardly hold back my excitement.

“Shh you’re welcome. Open it!” She hushed, though she was still unable to drop the huge smile on her face. I nodded my head and gingerly began to tear at the wrapping paper to reveal a little black box. I looked up at her with excitement in my eyes. She gestured for me to open the box. I slowly pulled the top off of it to reveal a bronze locket with a raven etched on the front. I gasped and pulled the necklace out of the box. I stared at it in awe while Miss Peregrine sat beside me.

“Here, let me put it on you,” she offered, taking the necklace from me and gesturing for me to turn around. I grinned and pulled my hair to the side while she clasped it behind my neck.

“Wow, it’s amazing!” I admired the locket even more when it was around my neck. Miss Peregrine giggled and put my hair back where it was.

“Yes, it has been with me for many years. It came from a friend of mine before we…lost touch.” She looked down. There was a somber tone in her voice, but I chose not to pry.

“I’m giving this to you because you both share many of the same qualities. To me, this locket represents bravery and strength. Maybe a touch of stubbornness as well.” She chuckled slightly and nudged by shoulder playfully as she mentioned the last part. I smiled and held the locket in my hand.

“Thank you, Miss Peregrine. This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” I spoke softly. Leaning my head against her shoulder while she stroked my hair.

“You’re quite welcome, my dear. Just don’t tell the others I gave it to you. I wouldn’t want to cause a squabble!” She jested.

“Yes, Miss P,” I snickered.

#mphfpc #mphfpc reader insert #miss peregrine x reader #miss peregrine imagine #alma peregrine #mphfpc fanfic #miss peregrines home for peculiar children

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blaceelvi · 5 months

Text

Pairing: miss Peregrine x miss Cuckoo

Tags: Hurt/comfort, dialogue, womance, support, romantic, perekoo, problems, friends, lovers, ect.

Briefly: "You know... If it wasn't for you, I don't know what would have happened to me. You always save me when my existence is on the verge, and my condition is close to breakdown".

"We have been saving each other for..."

"A little less than all our lives, yes," the younger Ymbrene barely smiled, which deeply pleased the Cuckoo.

Notes: Hi, it's fic about my fav pair in Peculiar children. I think, that Riggs didn't really opened for us feelings of miss Peregrine. So Isabel is closest person to her, that's why...

Don't be critical, English is not my language, I'm going through learning it. Hope you like it 🌿🌟

You can write your opinion (please) 🌠

"Mr. Portman! This girl is not your concern!" Miss Peregrine screamed.

No one had ever heard her scream like that before. The room became very quiet. Even the street noise coming from outside the window seemed to have stopped.

The headmistress was shaking with anger, but suddenly she seemed to stumble, staggered, but quickly grabbed the windowsill, finding support in it. Bronwyn was about to rush to the directress, but she stopped her with her palm and rubbed her eyes with the other.

"Miss Peregrine, are you okay?"Bronwyn asked anxiously.

"I'm sorry, I haven't slept for many days," the woman said briefly and continued, "For the sake of the common good, sometimes you have to put up with the imperfections of the world," she said. "The safety of one person is nothing compared to the safety of many thousands".

Jake was angry too and didn't want to calm down. And therefore he couldn't come up with anything reasonable, but just blurted out:

"Well, shit!"

Bronwyn gasped. None of the children allowed themselves to speak to Miss Peregrine in such terms.

Miss Peregrine stepped forward. She leaned over his bed.

"Yes, Mr. Portman, it's shit. But when you have to choose between one shit and another, it becomes clear why it's so shitty to be a ruler. And it is for this reason that we do not involve — and will never involve — children in making decisions of national importance".

With these words, the directress abruptly turned around and stormed out of the room, finally slamming the poor door, which made everyone shudder. If Miss Peregrine spoke in such terms, it means that she really lost her nerve.

Alma was soon walking down the corridor, almost breaking into a run, but her limp did not allow this. Unbidden tears blurred her eyes, even though the woman desperately shooed them away. Her vision was blurred, either from moisture or from days of lack of sleep and hunger, and Miss Peregrine had to lean against the wall, but she did not slow down. She herself did not understand where her own feet were taking her, because her office was completely in the other direction. But then suddenly, from around the corner, she bumped into someone and completely lost her bearings in space, and at the same time her support. Therefore, she would have fallen in disgrace now if not for someone's hands that caught her in time. The semi-conscious Alma did not immediately realize who the unknown was, but he threw one of her arms over his neck and grabbed her by the waist, preventing her from falling. That's her, that's what Miss Peregrine saw in her voice.

"Oh, Alma, Alma, what's wrong with you?" exclaimed a voice, and in it the woman recognized Miss Cuckoo, "Okay, okay, everything will be fine now."

Saying this, Isabella slowly led her friend to her room, and concurrently to her office, which, fortunately, was very close. Meanwhile, Miss Peregrine Falcon had already recovered a little to vaguely realize the awkwardness of the situation.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I..." she tried to justify herself in a confused way, "I do not know how it happened..."

To all this, Isabel only replied with her "everything will be fine now."

Nevertheless, they finally reached the office and, entering and slamming the door with her foot, the Cuckoo sat Alma down in an armchair. Slowly, the picture in Alma's eyes gained some clarity, and she immediately saw a glass of burgundy liquid held out to her in front of her. With a somewhat trembling hand, she accepted it and immediately took a small sip. The red wine rolled pleasantly down my throat, meanwhile, it was the first meal of the day.

Isabella plopped down on the next chair and stared at her friend expectantly.

"How are you?"

Alma didn't know how to answer this question correctly at the moment. All the words and thoughts were spinning in my head at once: what Jack had said, the negotiations with Leo Burnham, the endless recorded appeals to Jacob, who had disappeared with her children, all sent to voicemail.

"Why?.. why did they do this to me?.." she spoke between ragged sighs, and for some reason her lips curled, "Am I... am I doing so little?"

Alma felt the warmth of the palm on her own and fixed her eyes full of tears on the woman sitting next to her.

"Don't say that, please," she whispered in her soft, insinuating voice, "Portman has not yet felt how failure can trample him into the mud".

"But he's so young, and he's already been through so much, poor boy..."

"And you, Alma? Have you been thinking about yourself?"

"I told them so much," Ymbryne continued, not noticing the question, "But... for what that risk of yourself and all the other children so much? I sent about a hundred messages and there was no response to any of them, what was I supposed to think? They... they put me to sleep, you know?"

The elder Ymbryne was outraged by such behavior of children. Perhaps Miss Peregrine had done too much for them. For them, she is something permanent, and her nerves are made of iron. She is capable of experiencing anything and finding answers to everything. But it seems that such abilities are not included in her peculiarity.

"I have no idea, dear. You've done an endless amount of good for them, and they've treated you like this. As a common obstacle to their plans. Do you know that they have no idea what all of us, and you in particular, had to do to save their asses?"

Miss Peregrine was a little taken aback by these words and looked up, full of unshed tears, at the Cuckoo's face.

"Yes... yes, you're right. But the most terrible thing is that he carried away the others as well. I thought I had at least some people I could trust".

"You have me. And I'm there already a little less than a lifetime," Isabel reminded.

Peregrine convulsively tipped the remaining wine down her throat and, grimacing and setting aside the empty glass, timidly stretched out her hands. Isabella instantly understood this gesture and hugged the poor woman around her trembling fragile shoulders. Alma felt the silvery short hair tickle her cheek pleasantly, and the salty paths tighten the skin on her face. She burst into tears, she burst into tears like a stupid girl disappointed in people and the world for the first time. It seemed that the actions of many people could warn her against another pain. First of all, her siblings betrayed her way back in the past. But in this sense, Alma was stubborn, especially with regard to her children.

"When will you stop blaming other people's misdeeds on yourself, my dear bird," the Cuckoo seemed to read her thoughts, drawing circles on her back with thin fingers, "It's not your fault that your brothers renounced the weird ones, it's not your fault that Imbrina is supposed to limit children, it's not your fault that Jake disobeyed you and asked others others".

At each "not your fault" Miss Peregrine shuddered harder, but Isabella hugged her even tighter.

"But I could have behaved differently..." Alma tried frailly. That was her last excuse.

"You behave differently too often and adjust to others, Alma. So you can lose yourself," the Cuckoo whispered unobtrusively.

After these words, the Peregrine Falcon gradually calmed down. The trembling passed and became less frequent, the tears soon ended. Alma reluctantly extricated herself from the cozy embrace and looked at the most desirable facial features.

"You know... If it wasn't for you, I don't know what would have happened to me. You always save me when my existence is on the verge, and my condition is close to breakdown".

The elder Ymbryne smiled broadly and warmly. This charming smile has been exciting Alma for ages, however, as well as every line of her face, every gesture and the whole of her.

"We have been saving each other for..."

"A little less than all our lives, yes," the younger Ymbryne barely smiled, which deeply pleased the Cuckoo.

"That's right, and it's very important for both of us".

"But all good things come to an end," sighed Miss Peregrine, "Like this evening, because I have to go..."

"No need, you should stay here. It's about midnight and you're not feeling well," Isabel protested softly.

Alma herself, lulled by that velvety voice and long hugs, did not want to return to her dark office to the table, where reports and papers related to the search for children were still scattered, to the cold bed, which she had not even had time to touch for the last week. The woman winced at the gloominess of the image of her abode.

"Okay, if I don't cause much discomfort. You only have one bed..."

"Oh, it's not as small as it looks," the Cuckoo caught herself.

Under the gaze of another Ymbryne, she spread out the bed and invited her. Peregrine took off her suffocating business clothes with some shyness, remaining in only a chemise. Isabella did the same. It reminded both of their years at Ymbrynes' Academy, when they lived in the same room. How long have they been carrying their friendship. Alma came closer to her friend and looked into the coffee eyes, which turned amber in the dim light of the lamp.

"I remember the years at the Academy".

"It's true," replied the Cuckoo, remembering that even during the first meeting she fell in love with Alma LeFay Peregrine for her emerald eyes even before the first conversation, "It was a glorious time, unforgettable".

They lay down slowly, facing each other. It didn't bother them at all. Even as children, they often escaped from nightmares in this way.

"You're going to have to sleep off a week of sleepless nights, honey. So sweet dreams and good night," the Cuckoo whispered.

"You haven't slept much either. That's why the same goes for you, honey," Alma replied and chuckled softly.

The sound made Isabel's skin crawl. At that, they fell silent and the Peregrine was the first to close her eyes. When she seemed to fall asleep, the Cuckoo lightly touched her pale cheek with her lips. After that, she closed her eyes, falling asleep. And she will not know that Alma felt this touch and smiled imperceptibly, and only then plunged into a pleasant dream without nightmares.

#perekoo #mphfpc #alma peregrine #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #miss peregrine #miss cuckoo #miss Peregrine x miss Cukoo #ransom riggs #music #comfort #hurt/comfort #love #fanfic #Fanfintion

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