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#alma peregrine x reader
rosiexweil · 8 months
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To the writers out there who makes x oc fanfics please stop putting them in the “character x reader” or the “character x y/n” tags
Thank you 🫶🏻
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cissyenthusiast010155 · 10 months
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Hey! Do you write for Miss Peregrine and her Peculiar Children??
I love your writing so much💜🙏
Hey hey hey @xx-state-of-mind-xx !! I absolutely will write for Miss Peregrine! Here’s a little blurb for you 😉 Shout out to @devout-cleric who inspired me for this fic 💞 Also, I included a song for you(:
Morning Surprises ~Miss Alma Peregrine xFem Reader
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Morning sex with Miss P would include…
Mommy…Master List
Requests & Prompt-List
Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, kissing, marking, nipple play, fingering, etc.
Enjoy (;
Your eyes fluttered open, your body still in a fuzzy, sleep state, all warm and cozy in the spread of you and your lovers bed. Your breath hitched slightly as you felt her skilled hands roaming down the front of your body. From your breasts, to your navel, down to your heated core.
“Alma…” you sleepily mewled.
“That’s it, just me, Darling…” she husked und your ear, her bare body on your back.
She then suddenly pinched your nipple, causing you to roll your hips forward and yelp put in pleasurable pain.
“More please more…” you hazily whimpered.
Her soft lips began peppering kisses along your neck and down to your shoulders.
“Wanna spread out those pretty holes of yours…” She husked in your ear.
You shivered in delight.
“Yes…” you breathlessly mewled, “Alma please… fingerfuck me…”
She chuckled. She could never deny you when her name rolled off your lips. Her fingers slipped into your aching cunt with ease. She then began pumping and curling her skilled fingers. Her lips were all over any available skin, as she continued to fuck you. It was driving you fucking feral…
“Dear me, your already close, aren’t you…?” She purred.
You bit your lip and nodded vigorously.
“Come for me, Dear…”
You buried your face into her as your walls clenched around her fingers and leud moans escaped your lips.
“Well Good Morning to you, my love…” Alma chuckled, pulling her fingers out of you and licking them clean.
“M’mmm Morning…” you mumbled, still receiving a face full of her tits as you nuzzled even further into the woman’s form.
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woman-actress · 2 months
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Jealous character x Fem!reader pleeaaaase
It's an SOS that I'm sending to you ...I am what we can call: an addict of fanfictions.
That's why I ask anyone who can write these wonderful things ... I'm in need and I have no desire to cure this addiction.
A little list :
Natasha Romanoff :
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Wanda Maximoff :
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Carol Danvers :
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Lena Luthor :
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Literally every character played by Cate Blanchette :
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Same for Sarah Paulson :
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Alma peregrine :
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So many women and possibilities of toxic relationships and possible jealousy, really I would be happy to be crushed by these womens....
Thanks ! Really 💕
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shobi-enzo · 9 months
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alma peregrine: y/n dear, its 3 am. Why are you still awake?
y/n: if you can eat chicken even though it is cannibalism for you, does that mean you can eat worms, rats, bird food and other birds if it's raw?
alma peregrine: BED. NOW.
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ofc-fics · 9 months
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The Huntress & The Falconess
Whew! Guys... 10k, been workin’ this 9 months, I’m thinkin’. Angst, some comfort, Alma being fed up. She always wins, yo. 
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Time passed differently for children. It moved faster with school to keep track. Adulthood was a series of work days with interjected free days. At least it was for you. To be fair, you took... every opportunity to be out of your house. 
You lived with your parents and younger brother. At 20, you felt the shame. But you had a real job so you were ahead of your father. You worked at a psychiatric hospital, working either first or second shift. Hypothetically having plenty of time around those times to do as you pleased. You preferred to smoke, at home, alone and in peace. But alone and in peace was never an option in your home. In fact, you were nearly there when your father called you. Your mother always had the next, newest car so her calls come through her radio. You, however, had a piece of shit so you got to risk death by looking down at the phone in your lap to answer your phone and put it on speaker. “Hey, Frank, what’s up?” you greeted. 
Franklin’s heavy sigh came through your phone and you rolled your eyes, mouthing his next words in time with his voice. “Would it kill you to just call me dad? I am your dad, after all.” 
You suppressed your responding sigh, he was definitely your father, and tried to move past the subject. “Did you need something Franklin? Or did you just call to bitch?” you weren’t trying to sound rude, but you were looking forward to sitting without using your feet. 
Franklin just sighed again, being his over-dramatic self. “Your grandfather-”
“Your actual father,” you interjected, trying to have him see the connection. 
“Your grandfather,” he asserted more harshly, making you smirk in your car, “has an appointment with Dr. Golan at 4:30. I was going to take him, but figured, since you’re off, you wouldn’t mind.” 
You didn’t mention he was also off, because that would start a fight. “Fine. Send me the address of his appointment,” you grumbled, flicking down your indicator to take the next turn. Following the new path set, you got lost in the familiarity of your new path. 
Abe, as you often called your grandfather, was one of the only people you went out of your way to be kind to besides your patients. You’d be there whenever he needed you. You see, Abe was more of a father to you and your younger brother than your actual father was. He talked to both of you more frequently and more respectfully too. He told you stories no one else knew and you knew him better than anyone else in the family. That’s right. You knew about Peculiars, a particular home of them as well. And you did more than know about the children and the monsters. You hunted the monsters with your grandfather. You’d stopped when Abe did, for your brother, but you followed any you saw. Yes, saw. But you did more than see. If there were multiple, you could pit them against each other and the wights they traveled with. The two of you had no secrets. Abe was your best friend. 
You pulled in his driveway, checking your watch as you turned and removed your key from the ignition. You locked the car with a sigh, unlocking Abe’s door. That was odd. Abe was paranoid, but he was confident enough in himself to unlock it when he was awake. Ignoring the dread pooling in your stomach, you stepped in calling out for your grandfather. “Abe!” you shouted, looking around the living room. Someone who didn’t know Abe wouldn’t see what was wrong. The map on the far wall had most of Europe and a great deal of Asia and Africa torn off. More than that, the lights were off. Being past midday, the sun lit the home quite well, but there were no signs of life anywhere inside. The dread in your gut hardened into a knot. “Abe, you have a doctor’s appointment and a different chauffeur.” You grinned cheekily, despite the stone in your belly getting heavier. You had anxiety and Abe had dementia. He probably ripped the map when overcome with memories, and you worried over every little thing. “You’re going to be late.” You walked into the kitchen, starting the coffee pot. “And you know being late gives me anxiety,” you mumbled under your breath. You walked back into the living room, noting how you heard nothing inside the home. Your heart dropped at the implications. You stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up them. “Abraham Portman?” you called up scoldingly, nerve-wracked by the lack of response. You slowly made your way up the steps, your grip on the railing was weak and fragile as your dizzy brain. Your head swam with the truth, knowing exactly why your grandfather wasn’t up. You took slow steps down the upstairs hall. You weren’t sure you could make it, weren’t sure you could take it. 
There were moments for you, where you knew precisely what was going to happen next. Again, anxiety so it was rarely true, but it happened. Soon enough, you found Abe’s door and pushed it open with weak fingertips, certain you would find your grandfather’s cold corpse in the position he slept in. 
Sure enough, flat on his back, hand propped to hold a gun, Abe was paler than usual and his cheeks chilled the backs of your fingers. Your shaky breath sounded like a whimper to you. However, you collected yourself as you pulled your cell from your pocket. The emergency call was the path of least resistance. 
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” 
You blinked. Shit. It wasn’t an emergency anymore. “My grandfather. He’s dead. I’m sorry. It’s... not an emergency.” You shook your head. “...anymore.”
The woman on the other side wasn’t upset. She talked you through your shock. She called a funeral home and soon had to hang up for other calls. You were alone with your thoughts and the corpse for half an hour. You didn’t remember a single thought you’d had all day and likely never would. 
Jake. Oh, God, Jake. How could you tell him? How could you tell anyone? You couldn't just wait for them to ask and say “oh, well, you see he’s dead.” He had two kids. You had two families to inform and someone had to tell the Ymbrynes. Did the diviners already know?
Alone in your grandfather’s house, you looked down at your phone. 
*
You weren’t crazy. But you didn’t feel it vehemently enough to say so. You didn’t feel like saying much at all these days and it was worrying your parents. 
There wasn’t an autopsy, but you didn’t need one to discover the cause of death. His eyes were missing, torn from his head as he slept. 
You heard your parents mentioning therapy so you had to speak soon. The real world never was good at handling anything unusual. But they weren’t thinking about putting just you in therapy. They wanted Jake to go too. He wasn’t handling Abe’s passing any better than you were. He was having nightmares about the very monsters you hunted. If he had the same gift as Abe, there was a Hollow around. You had to get both of you clear, like dragging a string across the floor to catch a cat. 
So... the next morning  at breakfast, you finally used your tongue again. “I had an idea.” 
No one was talking, but the family froze when you said something, anything. “What’s that?” your mother asked, not looking away from her paper. 
“I heard your plan to send Jake and I to therapy because we...” you smiled with your eyes shut, “...couldn’t let go of Abe.” The whole idea was preposterous. “So, I thought I could take Jake to the Home he used to live in. It’s a trip out of the country so it’s educational or something, you guys could have a two-week vacation from us. …You don’t grieve by ignoring it, or medicating it away. You have to dive in... and feel it. The good and the bad.” 
Jacob looked at you sideways. “Are they even still alive?” he asked. 
You paused. You didn’t know. You shrugged. “No clue. Should be. In any case, you can see where grandpa grew up. 
Both of you looked at your parents in unison. 
*
It was a fun plane-ride. You sat in 1st class for the privacy and, even then, you had to remind Jacob to shut up. Of course, you understood why he was freaking, but too much excitement on a plane of borderline illegal. Thankfully, he understood and the rest of his questions were quiet. Said quiet went out the window in the rental car. He was freaking very excitedly and you laughed so hard it was a hazard on the road. 
The ferry ride had Jacob grinning out at the water so you both leaned against the railing. He was so plainly ecstatic, you were almost certain this plan would work. Jake was very plainly let down by the Priest Hole, something you sympathized with. But they had nice, warm drinks for your walk across the island. Jake wanted to go straight to the loop, but you insisted his mind had been through enough. 
Besides, the island itself was large enough to keep the pair of you entertained for days. And you only had to stall for one. You had been in the real world so long, you weren’t sure how to act in a loop. In truth, your anxiety also played a role in the stalling attempt. The beach had swarming birds that Jacob ran into, like a child. You watched him from afar, smiling. Yes, this could work. A singing whistle made you look up and you saw a peregrine falcon dive from high in the sky, leveling out beside where you jolted away fright. Your hand rested on your heart and the bird waited for you to become calm then moved very slowly to perch on your shoulder. You stared at the blue bird, knowing it was the Headmistress, with a level look. “You know, for someone so involved with time, you are very impatient.” 
The bird squawked, as if in disagreement. 
“Don’t talk back, you know it’s true.” 
Her beak closed around your earring and gave a firm pull towards the woods. 
You swatted her gently. “He’s been through a lot this month. Let me spread it out.” She not so gently bit the tip of your earlobe. “Ooh!” you yelped in shock, and a little bit of pain. “See?” You waved your arm widely. The Ymbryne took to the sky, looking down disapprovingly. “Impatient,” you scolded. “Go bug him,” you ordered, pointing at Jake who stood barefoot in the sand allowing the tide to bury his feet. The bird obeyed, a big flap launching her at the boy. 
Said teen shrieked your name at the bird on his head, careful talons sinking to his hair. 
You tossed your head back, unable to withhold your laughter. “It’s just the headmistress,” you admitted. 
Jacob perked up brighter than you’d seen since he was small. He didn’t seem to understand the bird’s position because he lifted his chin to look at her. Only, she tipped back with his head, wings spread and flapping to keep her vantage point. The dark-haired boy seemed to catch on and swiveled his head to look at you. “C’mon, sis, please! Can’t we go today?” he begged. 
You rolled your eyes and pulled out your vape pen. “No! It would appear I’m teaching you both a lesson in patience.” You hit your pen and the bird cocked. You flexed an eyebrow until you let out the vapor. The peregrine flew back over to you, gripping your hair as she had Jake’s and leaned over to watch you do so again. Only, you didn’t, not understanding. So, you threw your hands up again when you were pecked on the crown of your skull. “Ow,” you whined as the bluebird leapt before landing again on your head. “Bitch!” you complained, rubbing your scalp with your vape hand. Your hand was pecked in scolding before the mouthpiece of your pen was grabbed within her beak. You ducked your head and waved your arms. With a huff, you crossed them in front of your chest and hit your pen. You held it a moment before blowing the smoke at the Ymbryne, the bird diving through the ring you’d made. “I hope your children don’t behave as such,” you accused, making her freeze. “Yeah, I said it.” Then she landed back on your head, taking a strand of hair, then walked over to your shoulder, then down your arm. You raised it to accommodate her and she reached your wrist, pecking it softly. She looked up at you, cocking her head cutely. Her foot stayed on your watch and you couldn’t help but smile. “That’s a good question.” You frowned in concentration. “We’ll leave for the loop at 8 so you can expect us around quarter til.”
The bluebird walked up your arm again. This time, you got tense and her neck was bent to run the topside of her beak along your skin. She got back to your shoulder and opened her beak around your jaw and gently nibbled. You tried to hold back a smile at the action. She took off, startling the crap out of you both. You rolled your eyes as she flew off, sarcastically introducing, “And that was Miss Peregrine.”
“She’s... uh-”
You looked over at him, eyebrows raised, impressed for him. “Apparently.”
*
She did it on purpose, you were sure. Jake was unbearably excited for hours and hours afterward. It was to the point where you threatened to not take him at all. 
You didn’t know why you insisted on waiting. It wouldn’t make the eventual goodbye any easier. With a sigh, you stood to dig through your suitcase. You found your bottle of melatonin, took one, then chucked it at your brother’s head. He took one and tossed it back. You put it back in the meticulous fold between your only nice dress (you didn’t know why you brought it either) and your long, vintage blouse which you planned to wear the next day. Your slacks were beneath your blouse and your nosy brother looked over. 
“Why do you have vinyl records?” he demanded curiously. 
You paused in your rearranging to look up at him. “What do you get the Home that has everything?” You gestured to your luggage. “Perhaps some music fresh to those who relive the same day.” 
Jacob nodded before grimacing at the implications. “Who’d you bring?” 
You shrugged. “Elvis, Led Zeppelin, Evanescence. Just different eras of music. Nothing vulgar, nothing discussing the future.” You zipped up the bag. “Maybe they’d appreciate some Cranberries. Zombie might tickle Enoch.” Your eyes traveled the air before you as you tucked your luggage back under your bed. “Might be too mature of a song though,” you shook your head as if to shake away the song and its temptations. You sighed, pulled back the covers, and watched Jake do the same. You both got in bed and fell asleep in the middle of your brother’s interrogation. He dropped off soon after. 
*
Your body insisted you wake up with the sun and nearly threw out those melatonin. Lucky for the drugs, they worked on your brother. You were already dressed in your retro clothes by the time you started to wake Jake. It took the better part of an hour trying to wake him. You were still applying make-up and getting a bag together. However once it hit 8, you pulled on your gloves, covered your antique clothes with a long coat, got your airhorn, taped it, tossed it in the room as you left, and then went to get a coffee. 5 minutes passed and you were pleasantly sipping your caffeine when the bed-raggled wet cat looking stick figure that was your tired, shocked brother came down the steps. You smiled and chugged your coffee then left the Priest Hole with a wicker picnic basket to disguise your gifts. 
Jake followed dutifully, if begrudgingly. He eventually got over the wake-up trauma and acknowledged you with more than a glare, with questions. You didn’t mind answering them until he asked why you left the Home. Emma was not a topic you were looking forward to explaining, nor were you enthused to inform her of Abe’s passing. Luckily, your brother was easily distracted. 
The walk to the collapsed cave was slow and cautious, and how was Jake still not out of questions? The other side was bright and warm, and you instinctively smiled. You looped arms with your brother, explaining the schedule and how delicately you both had to handle unpleasantness. 
All too soon, you were at the Home re-assembled and beautiful, and your stomach was in knots. You’d not seen these people in over a decade and the Headmistress wasn’t someone you remembered well. You scarcely remembered any of them, believing the visit to be a dream had Abe not reminded you it was real again and again. Your fist hovered over the wood when it fell away. 
Jake was very plainly impressed, while all you could think was, “gorgeous”. And this was the bird you’d called a bitch. You suddenly flushed, then cursed your reaction under your breath, then floundered under her suddenly stern gaze. You giggled shrilly, very embarrassed. 
Smiling just a bit too widely, the blue-clad, blue-haired Ymbryne held out her hand. “Miss Peregrine, delighted to meet you.” 
Jake gaped with a lax jaw. An involuntary grin pulled at your lips. You elbowed him gently, prompting him to finally shake her hand. You were tossed a light glare once more which caused a cowing your mother had never been able to cause. You diverted your gaze, finding decades-old grass fascinating. Jake was allowed past, then her hand extended to you. 
Did she think you’d forgotten the last time you met? You supposed it hadn’t been a formal introduction. You took the hand with your own leather gloved one and were caught by surprise when she pulled hard. You stumbled up the steps; she caught you in her arms. You were wrapped by her so securely, you didn’t dare try to pull away. Not that you were capable of even wanting to. She pushed her face into your scarf, careful to avoid any skin-to-skin contact. “I’m glad you’re alright,” she mumbled softly, knowing you would hear at the minimal distance you had. 
You met your startled brother’s confused gaze before answering. “Likewise.” You brought your own arms up around her as well. After a moment, you were drowning in earthy tobacco and petrichor. It made your head swim and you buried your face in her shirt. You gulped down the scent as if you’d been underwater for years. 
Her arms around you shook with tremendous emotion and she whispered, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” 
Your lip trembled as you remembered walking down the hall to his room, knowing what you’d find. “Don’t discuss unpleasant matters,” you ordered softly before sinking your teeth into your wobbly lip. You turned your face away from her bare neck and face to keep your hair between the two of you. 
“Yes, ma’am,” she whispered in response, bringing her arms tighter around you. 
Jacob cleared his throat from behind Alma awkwardly. 
*
Jacob’s introductions were constantly interrupted by the children reuniting with you. It was no matter, though, because you brought the focus back to him easily. They were just as eager for a new friend as they were to reunite with an old one. Your brother got to know your grandfather’s childhood friends, as you had once, even better when you were pulled away by Miss Peregrine. You weren’t technically “pulled away” as Alma refused to release you, the entire time you were there. And, strangely, she insisted you call her Alma. You were an adult, after all. 
A part of you was relieved because this whole new world meant you didn’t need to recall the old one so much better.
That short time you’d spent in the Home as a child was little help. Schedules and rules and plans were lost on you and you'd never felt so overwhelmed in your life. You wished your vape worked in the loop. You and Alma settled in the kitchen to begin lunch, dinner according to Alma. 
“It’s lunch,” you corrected over-confidently. The glare Alma sent you had you giggling and ducking your head. You shied to the side. She laughed as well and the lingering smile was the most pleasant visual you’d ever seen. You turned away to hide your fond smile yet disguised it as looking around. 
So distracted by your need to hide your feelings, you didn’t notice the Ymbryne come up behind you. “You should take your coat off.” Her warm breath blew against your hair and you startled, jumping. The weight on your shoulders told you she wasn’t really requesting your outerwear. 
You turned to face her, an abashed smile donning your face. “I’m not staying long.” 
Alma frowned, one hand leaving your collar to take your elbow. “You shouldn’t be alone. And Jacob will need a guide back to the Priest Hole.” 
You sighed, stepping from her grasp. “It’s just me. He may stay as long as he likes.” Your finger popped up and you spun, seeking out the picnic basket you’d set down. “Oh!” You lifted it and returned to the headmistress. You opened the lid with a sly grin. “A gift.” And out came the records and their sleeves. You handed them over to the suspicious Ymbryne. She looked them over then at the years. “I skimmed them for anything the children couldn’t hear and couldn’t find anything, you can go over them if you like, of course.” 
Alma smiled up at you with misty eyes. She blinked before pulling you in for another hug. You leapt to avoid any skin contact and let the woman maneuver any safe way she wanted. She held you until little footsteps called her to attention. She swiftly moved to hide the records back in the basket. She frowned at the contents and looked back at you. 
“Clothes, if Jake “decides”,” you air-quoted, “to stay for a while.” 
The Ymbryne’s frown deepened. “You are practically throwing your brother to us.” 
You frowned back. “No! That’s just in case. He has plenty of other clothes at the Priest Hole!” 
Re-placing the records in the basket, Alma stepped over to you, listening for the footsteps to leave. Jake was laughing after the kids, likely losing at tag. She took your leather-clad hands. “What is this?” she asked simply. 
And you knew what she meant. You sighed. “I just want- I told him. Abe. Over and over again I told him he needed to visit you all one more time, and he needed to take Jake-” 
“And you,” she interjected, missing your point. “Bring Jake and you.” 
You looked up at her with heavy eyes and you opened your mouth to explain, but you merely froze with your lips ajar. “Alma...” You heard her hum and saw her face lift at the use of her first name. “Abe.... He... He never-” You sighed, not sure how to tell her. “I have a job. At a mental hospital. I take care of psych patients. I deal with suicide risks,” you lowered your voice so the ‘s’ word wasn’t overheard, “and I’m trained how to deal with volatile patients. It’s... not what I want to do with the rest of my life, but it’s a step in the right direction!” You smiled. “I want to help these people, the common folk who can’t help themselves.” 
Alma’s eyes lowered, light dimming. “Oh, I understand.” And it seemed she did. She knew you couldn’t- wouldn’t stay. But she never released your hands. If anything, she ran her thumbs back and forth on the back of your gloved knuckles. “Too late,” she surmised your situation. 
“Or too early,” you offered another crux. You brought your shared hands together and apart with swinging elbows. “But it’s better that I knew.” You looked back up at her face. You wiped a tear from her cheek, trying to ignore the impending guilt. “I’m sorry we never figured it out with your Home, but I’m glad to have met you all.” 
The woman stepped back into you, one arm circling your waist beneath your coat. Her finger skimmed the line of your blouse tucked into your pants. “Stay for supper.” Her other hand sought the cloth of your scarf. She was looking for easy skin access without touching your face. Too bad, your clothes were designed to eliminate any accidents. 
You stepped back. “May as well. Seeing as Abe left all the big reveals to you.” You allowed your coat to casually slip from your shoulders, revealing the similarly sleeve-styled blouse. Your top was a white-cream color, though, and your dark pants matched your dark boots. Your light colored scarf remained, though, needing as many layers as you could manage. The air was just autumn enough for you to withstand the extra warmth. 
Alma’s shoulders drooped at the information that discussing the unpleasantness was her responsibility once again. 
You shut the basket before returning to her side. You automatically reached out a gloved hand before retracting it. “I can... help, of course.”
The woman spared you a look, then got trapped in your gaze. The moment stood still until she stepped toward you, equally compelled to reach out for you, your face. You instinctively matched her distance, in reverse, shying from the skin on skin contact she was reaching for. “Oh-” Alma started. 
“I’m sorry,” you were already interjecting. 
“No, I knew the consequences of your peculiarity and I tried anyway. I’m sorry.”
You were already shaking your head, attempting to dismiss any guilt the Ymbryne might’ve held. “I can explain Hollows to him. And Wights. I may get a few facts wrong, but I can explain the basics if you’d truly rather not. Because he has to know, and soon.” You tugged at the fingertips  of your gloves before pulling the wrists back down and securing the garment again. Miss P watched the action with cautious eyes. She reached out again, this time taking your hand. She pulled you through the home until Fiona caught your hand, pulling you to run from you brother and Miss P. She even shouted the invitation for all the kids to play. Alma watched you get roped into the children’s antics with a smug grin. 
You frowned over your shoulder, but the Headmistress wasn’t there. That made sense. You were outside now. You looked at the twin braided girl and knew you didn’t have the heart to repeat your intentions of cutting the visit short. The two of you hid together, you getting clarification in hushed voices. You hid your grin as you extracted rare seeds from your pocket of your pants. “Don’t go showin’ off cuz I didn’t bring a gift for everyone.”
Fiona beamed up at you, pocketing the seeds moments before you were discovered by your grinning emo brother. You all returned inside together at Alma’s call. 
“Met Enoch,” Jake announced with an appropriate grimace. 
You laughed and Fiona had a grimace of her own. “Enoch gets jealous and he’ll try to frighten you away. Jake, please don’t run away. Most of us are real good.”
You placed your hand on her head. “He knows,” you assured the girl with a smile. 
Fiona smiled worriedly then her gaze flicked to you. “Are you stayin’?”
You frowned sympathetically. “I’m sorry, baby, no. I have to make a report for work.” The report was just an expected date of return, but you couldn’t- just couldn’t give the boy a deadline for an impossible decision like this. You used every annual and holiday time you had raked up, which was only another two weeks. 
But two weeks was a long time and you weren’t going to spend it on an imaginary mission. You could follow the mission once Jacob had a routine. You started your hunt in the thick of Cairnholm bog. The woods were easy enough to clear so you moved outward. Wales was a big country, but Alma had her domain covered. You had to take responsibility for the rest. The beach closest to the island had Hollow tracks all around the waves. You were sure the rest would be taken by high tide. You stared at the foggy blob miles out. They hadn’t been on the island. You raced back, staring like a creeper at all the unfamiliar people, so all the people. 
A familiar chirp caught your attention, but you refused to give away your connection if the Wight was around. You saw a hoity toity rich bullshitter look up at her briefly and had to resist the urge to kill him. She landed on the railing of the boat, pacing back and forth anxiously. Eventually, she gave up, not receiving an answer and not going to risk transforming. You watched her fly away with a breaking heart. Adulthood sucked, peculiar or not. 
Jake was angry that evening. He scarfed down your tacos while rambling about the century-old peculiars keeping secrets. 
“Now, I know Alma wouldn’t let you starve, nosey or not,” you laughed out. 
Jake finally seemed to notice how much he’d eaten. “Sorry, but I didn’t stay for supper. I was too mad. I just don’t know what they’re not  saying.”
You sighed, picked at your necklace. “Yes, you do. You saw it. And everyone tried to convince you you didn’t.” It seemed Alma hadn’t seen fit to tell him yet. But he had a right to know, especially now that he was asking. So, you had to explain. “Have a seat.”
*
Jacob didn’t go to the loop the next day, leading you to fear you’d ruined his relationship with the Peculiars. But he wanted retribution for Abe just as you did. Upon the conclusion that they were on the island, you led the boy through the bog again, showing him how to tell where the mud was shallow enough to step on. You were focused, living the life Abe taught you, and hardly had the presence of mind to make sure he kept up. 
He must’ve because he was there at every house you came to. Most were uninhabited, but a few - three - were on the dangerous side of the island. They were old, but sturdy. The owner of the first home ran you off; then the second one made you pause. Jake had never been around Hollows before so he couldn’t tell, but you felt the beast. You wondered if his master was there too. You had to know. You kept a hand behind you, holding tight to your brother. The basement was the only room you couldn’t clear from the entrance. Of course that’s where the monsters would be. You stepped down slowly, hands loose enough that Jacob could run or just stay upstairs without you. Of course, that would be too easy. He stayed one step above you.
You saw the Hollows before he did, but there was no Wight to aid in his survival. Your roots slowly turned a bright orange, eyes slowly churning a beautiful green. You retracted your hands from his, stepping further down. 
The first monster to come out of the shadows earned a high scream from Jake, but he stayed. The monsters wicked tongue’s lashed out at you and him, but your hands slapped them away. The sponge-like eel-like tentacles appeared as charcoal where your hands had been when they retreated. The beast’s screams were worse than Jacob's. As a wounded animal would, the Hollow reacted to get them away and to escape itself. Its two arms and the rest of its uninjured tongues flung out and pushed you both away. You both slammed into the walls behind you. 
Jake hit the doorframe, his legs swinging out first. He was slow to get back up but he started at the sight of the wall above you on fire and the flames were spreading. But you were limp on the floor, the orange of your hair slowly staining deep red. He got up long enough to run in your direction, dropping to slide under the Hollow’s still swinging appendages. He touched one of your hands with his and immediately regretted it. He pulled back with a hiss, checking his reddened palm. The seeing boy turned to see the massive lanky creature ducking to turn around. The boy felt the exact terror he had the night his grandpa died. He took your clothed shoulders and shook and shook you. He screamed your name right in your face and was about to run when you stirred. Jake understood what needed to happen like it was built into him. He rolled one way while you went the other. Everywhere you touched started a new fire. Soon, only the floor was free of flames, and it wasn’t even completely free, and the both of you were dripping sweat. “You can control these flames, right?” Jake asked. 
You squinted, looking around. The structure was already failing, crumbling, and you plucked a broken piece of chair from a pile of warm char. The roots of your hair slowly turned brown and moved down, the tips retracting, curling as they turned brunette too. The orange was overcome by the bottom of your head. Not that it mattered as you were now a brown-eyed brunette with chin-length curls. 
The Hollow charged and you easily redirected him off to the side. You shoved him back the second time, willfully ignoring the flailing tongues. The Hollow collapsed a pillar, immediately bringing the old house down. Burning ceiling debris, all falling for the stunned spectator. Saddling up beside your brother you held the ceiling support just off him. It felt like a thousand needles into your palms, then over the heel of your hand. You bit back a pained scream, feeling the flames lick up your fingertips. 
“No!” a furious voice screamed. You both looked to see the fancy birdspotter from town outside the only exit. 
Tears tripped down the sides of your face, from the pain in your hands and your only option. With one damaged hand, you released the roof. You could hold it with the other. You grabbed your brother’s jacket and shoved him toward the one you knew to be a Wight. There was no other answer and no other option. You seized your abandoned weapon and dove for the exit yourself. 
It took time for you to see with the different light, but when you looked up, you saw Barron. His hand was a gun, of which the barrel was pointed at Jacob. The Wight’s wicked teeth smirked smugly down at you. “It’s been a pleasure, Ms. Portman.” He slowly eased his foot down onto the hand holding the chair leg. You slowly cried out as your tiny hand bones were crushed against a hunk of wood. “Can’t kill me without a dominant hand,” Barron gloated. “A-and it’s not as if you have a Peculiarity to fight with. Well, none of your own.” He released your hand and used that same foot to kick your stomach hard enough to send you flying through a weak wall rolling down it to land on the cement guard on the front porch. “No, I believe we have a loop to attend to.” His gun turned into a metal claw, and he held his new weapon right against his throat. 
But Jake’s eyes were trained on you. Come on, you were his big sister. You had to get up. He gasped at your slightest movement. 
Barron faced you too, applying more pressure with his blade. He laughed when he saw you in your natural hair and eyes, crispy fingertips unbuttoning your shirt. “You’re not my type, my dear.” He turned to Jake and made him walk. “You’ll show me your loop or I’ll kill you and come back to ask your sister. How much helpful do you think she’ll be?” 
Not at all. Especially if he killed Jake. Refusing him would sign both of their death warrants. Agreeing would put his grandpa’s old and his new friends in danger. What did he do? What could he do? All of a sudden, the pressure shoving him forward stopped. He halted, wanting to turn back and find you; but the big black man on the ground, a wooden hunk sticking out each side of his neck kinda drew his attention. Did he-? 
“I’m ambidextrous,” came your disembodied voice. 
Once again disappointed, Jake looked at all sorts of empty air. “You too?”
He heard you sigh more than he saw you, of course. “Unfortunately, nakedness is mandatory. Or it’d be useless.” 
Eventually, you clothed yourself and uncloaked yourself. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t seen you for a few minutes or because your state had changed so severely while unseen, but you were in terrible shape. Your hair was a whole new mess and your clothes were bloody around the bottom of both, your shirt and pants. Your arms were covered in soot and bruises, and your hands were burned so badly the flayed skin peeled. And where were your shoes? Jake knew you’d had a pair on for the trek to the now-rubbled home, but your feet were now bare, bog seeping between your toes and soiling the bottoms. “You can finish the walk to the Home, stay however long you like. Tell Ms. Peregrine Barron is dead. And she doesn’t have to worry about anyone following us.” You started limping away, back to town in a way which shielded your hands and tried to protect your feet, but you were in pain, plain and simple. 
“How long… can I stay?” Jake called after you. He didn’t want to be rude or selfish, but so much of peculiardom was a mystery, he needed clarification. 
You knew this moment could decide so much. Jacob had to decide so much. You turned to look at him over your shoulder. “However. Long. You like,” you answered verbatim. You could tell he understood the gravity of the situation by how still and distant his gaze had become. “Pick a location for now; don’t stand in the rain,” you scolded. You both were soaked by now, so you went on to the Priest Hole once Jake made for the loop. 
*
Disinfectants only went so far. But you still used one - several - and, yes, you whined through the whole ordeal. Now wrapped better than any haunted mummy you’d ever seen on tv, you were taking a rest. Sat in a chair, hands taped with gauze and exposed to prevent irritation, you tried to breathe through the constant pain. It must’ve been 90 minutes after the Head Wight was killed; the intentional silence was broken by fluttering wings. You didn’t open your eyes, but still understood. “He’s not hurt, right?” You hadn’t been able to check. 
“A bit of shock, but relatively unharmed. Barron?”
You never opened your eyes, but knew an Ymbrynen’s instincts, retracting and hiding your hands with a pained groan and an answer: “Unrelatively dead. Wanna stuff ‘im?” you quipped. 
“Show me your hands,” Alma asserted, suddenly very stern. 
You finally opened your eyes and stunned to find the woman not only stern, but worried. With a sigh you surrendered. “Second degree, nothing major.” 
Alma was careful and gentle undoing all your strenuous work, and she was careful not to touch your skin. She was good at concealing her emotions, but you knew how it looked. You had one heel of one palm with a third degree burn, but you had your bandages and treatment, once Alma returned them. “Come back to the house. I have burn treatment-” She stood to urge you along. 
“So do I. And I already applied it.” You nodded to the gauze she’d removed. She quickly replaced them and stared at you. You both knew all she wanted to say. You understood each other’s feelings well, but you were a coward. “What do you think Jake will pick?”
Alma was put out by this question, but also understood the complications. “We’re a good home. He needs one. He’ll see that.”
You nodded, concealing your hands once more. Your eyes went back shut and you slept in that chair, hair a steady orange to help your peculiarity help your body heal. You fell asleep like that and, as much as Alma despised it, she got the message and flew back to her loop. 
The next morning, Jake told you he wanted to stay. Big surprise. You still had two more days so you used them in case he changed his mind, but he never left the Home after that. He actually tried to convince you to stay as well. Yeah, he’d fit in no problem. 
*
Peculiars had ways of being forgotten so they could disappear. Abe had dabbled in much of that business so really, all you had to do was get uncle H down to talk to your parents so Jake would be free. Conditional memory wipes were a bitch to keep up with, but you managed. You were used to handling those unstable. You worked in a psych hospital for goodness sake. It was rewarding and caretakery while also teaching you to go with the flow and how to handle high-stress and immediate forgiveness. And you had a whole staff to help. 
Maybe you were crazy to deal with the crazies so well. Where you worked usually was a large casual room connected by four doors each leading to a pod filled with 5 double rooms and one single. 
Today you were in a pod with a level zero so the door to the main area was shut and locked. You had an observation room, but part of the routine was vital sign checks and it was time for his second and final of the day. You rolled the machine into the pod, and with you until you came up behind the couch, where Dale, your level zero, sat on the couch, squinting at the tv screen and its corresponding commercial. “Hey, Dale,” you greeted politely. 
He looked up at you, though his expression changed none. “Mary, what is with you flipping tables and screaming? You were wild.” 
You paused, not sure how to respond. “Was I?” Play dumb. That was your headspace when dealing with Dale. It confused him too and usually irritated him, but the subject was changed, despite it doing so several times in between several statements. 
“You were. What happened?”
You looked around. “Well, you know what it’s like to feel a lot of emotions at the same time.” 
“That was the past. You just did it.”
You fiddled with the vital sign machine, unsure if you should get to the point. “Well, maybe you can show me how to control my emotions like you.”
Dale leaned forward. “What?” he asked in genuine confusion. 
“You could teach me to control when I feel a lot of emotions at the same time like you do.”
“You don’t do like me,” Dale warned. 
“Can I get your vitals?” you asked, focusing. 
Dale turned his head away. “Flirtation.” But he offered his left arm. 
“No, sir. I will stay as platonic as I can.”
Dale went on a delusional ramble about many definitions of platonic, each one wrong. 
So, you interjected. “Well, platonic means- To me, it means unromantic.”
“Unromantic?” Dale repeated. “We’re not romantic, not flirting, not together, not anything-”
You agreed to everything he said. “Yes, sir. Yes, sir.” You  pressed the button to inflate the cuff and grabbed the O2 monitor. He poked out his finger so you could attach it. You put a probe on the cover of the thermometer. 
“We’ve only been together once.”
You nodded, humming the affirmative. “Wait- Mhm? When was this? Was I there?” 
“Mary... Stop playing coy,” Dale managed around the thermometer. 
You nodded. You took all the equipment back off him and left before he made you an offer which would be illegal. You charted the vitals, opened the door to the nurse’s station, then slid the machine and the vitals clipboard out. 
You obviously had an odd relationship with Dale. He used to tell you he took care of you since birth. Now, he claimed you told everyone he raped you. You would never but he didn’t like when you argued with his delusions. None of the patients did. 
You loved your job, you did, but sometimes it was too much. No one got that more than Amina Steele, RN. 
She’d worked at the hospital you currently did, forwell, you were sure it was too long. Love the jobs, love the patients, and all. But it was a bit much. The overachieving floor nurse had her own office on-lodge. Mostly, she used it to stash candy and her dammit doll. You used it to distract her, unintentionally hiding out through shift report and purposefully when overwhelmed, by patients or staff, Amina didn’t discriminate. 
You appreciated Amina and the power of RN. She got down and dirty with you on the floor, occasionally prompting a candy-caused 45-minute break, but more frequently were you cleaning Dale up. Recently, he’d begun getting stuck in various uncomfortable positions. Unfortunately, a part of getting stuck was not unsticking. He wasn’t moving somewhere appropriate to use the bathroom because he wasn’t moving. So someone had to encourage him or physically help him to his room. Staff would clean him up, wipe him off, and change him unless he needed a shower. Luckily for you two, this time, he had a bowel movement… and it stuck. 
You helped the man undress and got him under the warm spray while Amina gathered some towels, hand towels, soap, exchangeable pajamas, a depends, wipes- Maybe you should have offered to switch positions. 
“Mary… you can’t be in here. I’m naked. That’s rape.”
You were too used to these comments and simply sidestepped sigh, “You’re not touching me and I’m not touching me. Plus, we’ll have a witness in a second.” He didn’t understand, but he wasn’t leaving a shower without help. He never did it in your entire short tenure.
Oh, and Amina brought a shower chair. Her dark hair and pretty highlights, the hair you’d learned to identify her with, was half up and half down. Both of your badges hung in the way of your work, as usual. Half the effort was getting the chair to where he could just sit, then locking all four wheels, then unlocking them without touching wet, naked Dale. Both of your hair also got in the way as well. You found out what the hole in the chair was for, for Amina squatted down and reached her washcloth holding hand up under him to clean where his BM was born. 
“Earn those big bucks, ‘Mina.” You got his legs clean and your legs wet. It was only after her 20th swipe that you turned to leave, holding back terrible gags at what she was producing. You felt bad for the poor man, but damn. Maybe you’d check on the rest of the pod- yeah, that’s it! You returned after a quick round and found Amina had moved on to washing the rest of him. You had that covered and unlocked the wheels, telling as much. You pretty much spun the chair and re-filled a cup again and again to rinse him. Amina got a clean, damp washcloth and rinsed where she had been cleaning. And you let her. 
He went to sleep after his little adventure, and you let him. 
Days like these came quite frequently. It was literally a rotation. Your team look turns. Your days in the pod were your favorites, but only if you had something to do. The hospital you worked at had 4 units. Two short term patient units and two long term units. Two female and two male. Your men were men. They were crazy and most were over forty, but they were still men basically basic. Their delusions were wild but complex. Women were usually crazy so mental illness actually made it more pronounced. You were glad to work with the men. Their biggest routine problem was incontinence or, ironically, needing the water pitcher refilled. Each unit had four pods. One and four had booths for staff if a patient’s privilege level was a 0 and could not be allowed among their peers. 
Your lodge currently had one such male. Dale Hando was a German, American born schizophrenic who called you Mary. You didn’t know a Mary besides Maryane, your mother. You tried to ask Dale who Mary was, but he just got irritated and told you to stop playing games. Because, of course, you should know who you are. Dale raised you, after all. You’d never been more glad for the required masks. 
It was quiet in the pod. Dale was back in bed after a bizarre outburst with which you had to talk him off the table. He’d come out and sit at the patient’s meal booth when he was good and ready. You entertained yourself until another staff member entered via the door to the dayroom. She had a clipboard in her hands, checking rooms as she neared the nurses station entrance. You recognized the highlighted names of every patient in the pod. 
“Hey, gurl,” you greeted. 
The other aid, a pretty girl a little older than you, simply nodded. You frowned in concern. She had been quiet all day and, while that happened to everyone sometimes, D’anne liked to talk it out on occasion. “You good?” she asked, though you felt that should’ve been your line. She was going to take your place during your lunch break, though, so she was your relief whenever you needed it. 
“No,” you answered. 
The woman approached the observation booth, expecting to take your seat while you ran wherever you needed to. 
You just rolled backwards in the booth until the backrest hit the computer’s platform. The door shut behind D’anne and you were in a closed space with the older BHA. “Talk my ear off. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She reached behind her for the door knob. 
“Okay, but you can always talk to me,” you offered, checking the time and filling out a quarter hourly assessment box. 
“I’m pregnant.” It wasn’t rushed like she had to tell somebody and it certainly wasn’t casual. 
You faced her once more, quite abruptly, face excited. “Is this... congratulations or...?” 
The lethargic mid-twenty year old nodded. 
You jumped to your feet and smiled wide. You hugged her fast, regardless of whether she was a hugger or not. “Congratulations!” You gasped and pulled back. “If you have a litter, can I have one?” 
D’anne rolled her eyes. “Goodbye!” she sassed walking out. 
“You know I love you in the Jesus way!” you retorted with the same phrase you used with your Elvis patient.
“Girl, you crazy!” 
“Girl, you scared me! I thought you were for real upset.”
D’anne stopped at the nurse’s station door. Her badge hung by the reader and the reader lit up green. The inside unlocked and she held it cracked open. “I’m just tired.” 
You scoffed. “Yeah, you’re growing a person.”
D’anne nodded. 
You laughed. “It’s not even while you’re growing a person. It’s the rest of your life.”
So, your friend left your domain.. possibly more stressed than she entered. “Don’t tell nobody,” she cast back. 
“I won’t.” 
Not that you had time to consider it when your pod phone rang. You turned to it, reading the very long number on top. It was longer than the hospital’s number, extension included. You were hesitant to pick it up, but since when did you shy from the unknown? You picked up the receiver. “B Lodge. Pod one.” 
“Heyy...”
You smiled insanely wide, instantly forgetting about your own century. “Jake! How-!” You turned back to the phone, writing down the number. “How did you-?”
“Horace had a dream.”
You paused, confused. “About my work phone number?” 
“About you! You just happen to be at work. We heard about the pregnant girl. Fiona and Bronwyn want to know about the daddy.”
You laughed, leaning back in the chair. “Uh, I think she has a boyfriend.” You heard the laughter in the background and smiled. “So, let me get this straight. You saw a conversation you’ve never had and called me to have it, with foreknowledge, while the vision is still being projected?”
Jake didn’t speak for some time, likely processing the timeline as you had. “Yes.”
A grin stretched your face and you tensed as you suppressed laughter. “Man, I love these people,” you laughed out, at least. 
Someone knocked on the window and you looked up. It was Dale. “One minute.” You put the receiver on the table. You slid to the door, opening it to communicate with Dale more clearly. “Yes, sir?”
Dale leaned up to the metal slot to speak into, rather than facing you. He spoke softly, so you mostly relied on the syllables. “Snack time is in twenty more minutes.”
He mumbled the exact same same thing, but he pointed to a bottle on the other side of the glass. 
You looked at it. “You want hand sanitizer?”
He mumbled a single sound. 
That was one of his usual requests, oddly fixated on hygiene, but he fixated on the wrong stuff. You went with it. “Sure thing!” You grabbed the bottle. He moved closer to the door to hold out his hand. Once he had a dollop, he rubbed his palms together, finger touching. You cringed, but accepted his mumbled thanks before he retreated to his room again. You stared after him sympathetically, blindly reaching for the hand piece of the phone. “Do you know it’s handled without me telling you?” you asked Jake. 
You could hear the smile in his voice. “Yes.” This time, there was no hesitation. 
You smirked and let out a low chuckle. “So, what’s new?” 
*
Nights were later than ever after you transferred from first shift to second. You now worked from the afternoon until nearly midnight. But you were more capable than most who wandered at night. Leaving out the back, you crossed the road to near your car faster. A low growl drew your attention. Your hair shortened and curled, turning brown as your eyes did too. You continued toward your car as if you detected nothing. 
Hollows weren’t intelligent or self-aware enough to notice the change in your appearance or to understand what it meant. Still, you were close enough to your car that it understood you were nearing an escape and a weapon. With a stupid warcry, the Hollow began its attack. 
You had your special eyesight to help you evade, but you needed a plan. If it got you in its tongues, you were done. Maybe not if you had fire-fingers, but that only worked in close range. But short of finding a house to collapse on it or throwing your car at the monster, super strength was also close range dependent. You desperately wished you’d adapted Fiona’s power before reaching your limit. 
Your grandfather had taken all over the world, to multiple Loops, and you had more gifts than from Miss Peregrine’s home. You dug through your memory for the powers Abe had had you take for fighting. You could heal fast - not helpful (yet, if you failed) - jump high - your hair shortened even more (staying only just in a pixie cut and staying brown, making the change faster) and your eyes stayed the same shade as Bronwyn’s - oh! You were quite dumb, you realized upon landing behind the Hollow. You had a few OP powers, but many were hard to control so you didn’t use them often. But the cement beneath your feet had to go. Your hair turned very dark, blacker than the night sky above you, and your eyes changed a piercing green. Your hair reached your waist as you lifted your foot. Stepping onto the grass island allowed in the parking lot, you held out your hands. 
The turning Hollow suddenly lost its balance as the unnatural ground trembled. It rose back to the tips of its legs just as your borrowed power was fully built up. The immediate area fell downwards, into nothing, making its own chasm. The Hollow was swallowed, just like every other object in the vicinity, including your car. Once the ground was done shaking, the chasm remained, the bottom lost in showed blackness. Even if it didn’t go too deep to see, the light post on this corner of the lot was also gone. You realized you had the cover of darkness to conceal your hair curling, shortening, and bleaching. Your eyes went blue and your clog-clad feet raised from the grass. It was hella hard to direct “lighter than air” but you managed by strategically dropping the held Peculiarity. You were home a little later than usual, but no one noticed because they were all asleep, another reason you went to second shift. You entered your bedroom in peace and shut the door before turning the light on. 
It was a stupid night that you decided you needed a break. But that was exactly the point. Stupid, little stuff should not have annoyed you to the same extent you’d be if you’d spent the whole week tied to B Lodge’s Elvis/flirt. But you were still an ornery, stubborn little woman. You still couldn’t take off for no reason. So you found a reason. Under what your mother believed to be the bottom of your baby box, was the stuff of your true youth. You had hundreds of photos, dozens of which you’d taken, and quite a few of the Home you remembered most fondly, though most briefly. But Miss Peregrine was also the only Ymbryne you’d met twice outside of rescuing one. But anyway, you kept digging until you found Abe’s records. Abe wasn’t born yet at the time of the Hollow Experiment, but it was understood as best it could be. Exactly 20 volunteers had gone missing. Several Wights were loose in the world and Hollows, but after Barron’s death, you had no doubt they were scattered. However, Abe had killed more than a few, and so had uncle H. Malthus had been Barron’s personal Hollow. Both were dead. Abe had killed Ms. Edwards and Mr. Clark, and 8 unknown Hollows. Uncle H had killed Mr. Archer, Mr. Gleeson, and Mr. White, and two Hollows, and tamed one. And in all of your years, you had killed four, two of which were already accounted for. The experiment was over. Your
The second you suggested the trip to Alma, she had all but made the plans. Reuniting was a delight and you were drowned in hugs, just what you needed. Alma approached you last, a faux-stern you believed. “After 70 years, we understand a long-term, come and go loved one does not work.” Your hope plummeted. “So, we insist you stay.”
Your tension broke with a sheepish smile. “Oh, I wish-”
“You can,” Alma interjected. Cutting people off, not polite, not Alma but necessary. “I know the only reason you haven’t yet is Abe. But he doesn’t get to decide for you. I suppose, if you really want to, you can leave, but you can stay. And if you want to caretake, help me care for our kids.” She put her bare hand on your cheek. The simple motion brought you some comfort, rarely indulging in skin-to-skin contact. The support of Alma Peregrine made you put your free hand on her. The gloved one. 
It took a moment to continue a process once begun. It also took you a second to remember why you were wearing gloves. You felt the softness of feathers sink into your skin rather than flesh, body warmth. Every bone, every muscle in your body seized up as the essence of Ymbryne was copied onto yours. The essence of time. You felt every repeated second in the day you had entered. The weight of an Ymbryne, becoming an Ymbryne on top of every other Peculiarity you absorbed, it popped a vessel and your nose poured blood, coating your chin in the time it took Alma to sweep you into her arms. Given that you survived, an eternity with permission to touch your Headmistress wouldn’t suck.
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ilovedonnabeneviento · 8 months
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I rlly need to make more content 4 re8 but I have photos of miss peregrine so there's that
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sam1kath · 8 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.
305 notes · View notes
milfswriter · 1 year
Text
Touch
Alma Peregrine (and the children?) x Reader
Summary: very physically affectionate reader headcanons
Another lovely request from @queerpersonified <3
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You couldn't keep your hands to yourself to save your life
Especially in the kitchen
Alma looks so nice and domestic as she stirs the pot of soup you have to wrap your arms around her as you looked over her shoulder
Despite what Alma thinks, you didn't care if the children saw you.
She's your wife, after all. You can do whatever you want.
"Y/n." "Hmm?" kiss "the childr-" another kiss
Alma holds both your hands too tight in time when the children yell "EWW" as they see the both of you kissing, stopping you from giving them the finger
morning cuddles are a must or Alma thinks you might explode
At least you make good tea, or she wouldn't tolerate waking up too early for cuddles
As mentioned in my household headcanons, late-night swaying in the kitchen after reset has become a part of your routine
You're like that with everyone, she discovered, it's just how you function
Ruffling Enoch's hair in the morning
Giving Millard a pat on the back for having clothes on for once
Kissing Fiona's and Bronwyn's cheeks for bringing the carrot for supper
Patting Olive's boots after helping her put them on
They love your hugs, you'd never turn them down when they ask for one
legs touching during dinner and movie night, a grin on your face as Alma turns to face you, shaking her head with a small smile
She wouldn't trade you for the world.
Taglist:
@ara-a-bird @mmemalwa @multifandomfix @thenazwife @mistysswampmud @yelenablshop @acornacre @yourfavdummy
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merci-bitch · 3 months
Note
Alma’s s/o stumbling home in a horrific state after going missing
Happy New Year’s Eve!
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• Oh boy
• It’s late
• Children are asleep and she’s in the parlour relaxing
• Well, relax and relax, but a record on and just reading
• And suddenly you stumble through the door, looking like you’d been spat out of hell itself
• She’s relieved that you’re safe, but horrified about what has happened to you
• She’s crying as she tends to your wounds
• She’s also worried for the safety of her children
• Because if you’d been running from the horrors, what would keep it from coming here?
• She washes you up, patches you up and puts you down in bed
• She doesn’t say anything
• She sits on the side, and just watches you sleep peacefully for what she recalls to be the first time in all the time you’ve been away
• She doesn’t sleep that night, or the nights coming
• She’s scared that if she goes to bed, you won’t be there when she wakes up, and she’s scared for the sake of the children
• She doesn’t let any of the children see you until you’re feeling better, despite your protests
• She’s overwhelmed with emotion with seeing her children gather round the bed to greet you again, so she leaves for just a moment to gather herself
• It’s honestly very touching
• Alma doesn’t show much of her own emotions
• Keeps a straight face for her children, but now she’s just too overwhelmed
“ That night, is the first time she sleeps since you arrive home
• Holding onto you for dear life
115 notes · View notes
thegayeststarfish · 3 months
Text
Ask: S/O who's incredibly accident prone @queerpersonified
Alma x Fem!Reader
Warnings: A SLIGHT LITTLE BITTY TINY LITTLE INUENDO
Enjoyyy
You were currently balancing on thin ice. Because you may or may not have said a few choice words infront of the kids. You also weren't in the best mood after being made to sleep on the couch, which made the back pain miserable. So at this point you would think that you'd at least be given some sympathy by the kids, right? And not even real sympathy, just a bit less chaos. But no, they've decided to be little hell demons balls of chaos. It didn't help that today you've already dropped two cups of coffee then preceded to slip down the stairs.
You were carrying a stack of Alma's books for her when you trip over something left in the floor. Looking at what it was it was one of Horace's dolls. It takes a lot in you to not cry from a mix of frustration and pain. So at this point you're just laying on the ground biting your tongue. And that's when Alma rushes in.
"Are you okay?!" She sound as upset as she looks. "I'm fine." Pushing yourself off the ground you begin to restack her books untill suddenly she's lifted you off the ground. And you grab her in a panic. You often forget she's alot stronger than you remember. "Alma put me down!" No matter how many times she does this you'll always be afraid she'll drop you.
"No. I'm going to put you in bed and if you dont stay there I'll tie you down." That definitely strikes you into silence.
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dovesintherain · 9 months
Text
shades of her
word count: 1.5k
warnings: fluff, kissing, the ocean
an: hi :) so i accidentally deleted my other account so im reposting everything on this new one, bare with me please ! im very sorry for the confusion and inconvenience !
blue was never a cold colour to you.
Retrouve-moi dans le jardin à minuit.
You read the note over and over again, a smile growing on your face. You were getting ready for bed when you heard the soft scrapping of paper sliding under your door. You stood from your bed and picked up the note curiously, unfolding it gently. Immediately you knew the messenger, Alma. The french was a dead giveaway but it was the perfect cursive writing that had your heart fluttering in your chest. 
The sound of the children's bedroom doors closing echoed through the old house. That meant it was ten o’clock. You tucked the note away, changed back into your daily clothes and waited. The following two hours were the longest of your life. Your mind raced with thoughts on what the note could mean, what she wanted. You were pulled from your anxious thoughts when you saw the time. You carefully crept down the stairs and made your way to the back door, opening it quietly.
You held your breath when you saw her waiting. The moonlight illuminated her and you were pulled in helplessly like a moth to a flame. Her eyes were soft and her hand extended in a silent invitation. You took it willingly. Despite the many shades of blue that made up the beautiful woman in front of you, she was always warm.
The warmth that radiated from her hand travelled to your cheeks and you smiled. In a haze, you allowed her to lead you through the quiet trees and back gate. You continued down a cobblestone path, the stairs overgrown with moss and delicate wildflowers. Erie shapes were cast across the ground. The moon's soft rays created shadow puppets with the foliage from the trees above you. The sure grip of Alma's hand soothed the unrest in your belly. You always felt safe with her. 
It was rare that you had time alone together due to the children pulling you both every which way. Now that you were free of distractions the courage you normally carried was lost to the wind, words dying in your throat as you walked. You never had an opportunity to leave the house long enough to bathe in the deep blue water of the sea nearby and it was something that nagged at you. Though you weren't too fussed about it as you were just as content to stay and help Alma with the household duties and the children. However, it was something you mentioned to Emma when she caught you looking longingly at the water from a window upstairs. A week passed since you had told her and you were now walking hand in hand with Alma as she led you down to the sand in the middle of the night. You were going to speak with Emma later.
You felt your foot sink as you stepped onto the sand. The air was salty and the breeze was cool. 
Alma had enough courage to speak first, “I can see why you longed to be here, it's quite beautiful.” 
You were drawn to the water like a magnet. Each time the waves pulled back into the sea, it felt as though the ocean wanted to pull you with it. You gazed at the water longingly. “Emma told you?” You asked softly, your hand still in hers. 
“She did. But I had noticed it before she had said anything.” Alma explained as she admired the view in front of you both. The black midnight sky was reflected in the water, turning the shades blue into a sea of ink. The moon glowed over the horizon and illuminated the tops of the calm waves as they crested.  
“It’s a happy place of sorts.” You said as you kept your eyes forwards. You could see out of your peripheral that Alma had turned to look at you, studying you for a moment. You let your eyes close. The sound of the water was almost loud enough to drown out the sound of your heart pounding in your chest as you felt her squeeze your hand. Almost.
“Are you ready?” She asked gently, the anticipation in her tone not lost on you. You nodded your head and turned to her with a grateful smile. As the two of you undressed you fought the urge to stare, failing miserably. You were thankful that Alma had chosen a midnight swim instead of one at sunrise. The darkness providing a cover to the deep blush that bloomed on your cheeks. Not that it mattered, she caught you staring, a small smirk growing on her lips. 
You waded into the sea first, breathing out a sigh of relief as water rose up your body with every step. The soft splashing of Alma following behind you met your ears. As the waves washed over her skin she hissed out, “it's freezing!”
Your head tilted back as you released a laugh. She laughed with you and made her way to your side. Once you were both about shoulder height in the dark water you took both of her hands in yours beneath the surface. You look at her with a challenging gaze. Her eyes widened in realisation before taking in a shaky breath. You both squeezed your eyes shut, nervous smiles adoring your faces before fully submerging yourselves, your hands holding each other tightly as you braced the icy temperature. 
You resurfaced together with small gasps, goosebumps adoring your skin. You were suddenly caught off guard by the sight of Alma inches away from you, it knocked the breath from your lungs and your heart pounded louder in your chest. Her indigo hair appeared even darker when wet, a few strands sticking to her cheek. The paleness of her face, neck and shoulders shone under the light of the moon, freckles scattering her skin. It was like an inverted image of the night sky. Her nose, cheeks and lips flushed pink from the cold. You met her piercing blue gaze and all you could think about was how you could never get tired of admiring her. 
Her hands came to hold your hips and pulled you in closer. “You’re staring again, darling.” Her smooth words flowed along with the current of the sea. Your eyes fitted between hers, she did the same. You could feel her hands move up to your waist and you shivered, not because of the cold. She pulled you close and you let her, willingly standing chest to chest. Your hand came out of the water and pushed the strands of hair that stuck to her cheek back behind her ear. Her gaze fell to your lips and your heartbeat picked up its pace. 
You don't know who leaned in first. Her lips were salty from the ocean and you were sure yours were the same. Her cold lips moving softly against yours filled you with so much warmth you felt as though you could burn ablaze in the middle of the sea. You eventually pulled away and rested your foreheads together, her hands unmoving. You both swam back to shore, pulling your clothes over your damp frames. You tried not to show your disappointment as Almas curves were shielded from view.
The walk back to the house was quiet, though this time the nervousness was gone. It was an easy silence and you decided that words weren’t enough to describe the feelings you had anyway. As you made your way back up to the house you purposely slowed your steps, wanting to savour the evening as long as you could, sand sticking to the salty skin of your bare feet. “Thank you,” your voice soft as you met her gaze walking along the stone path. She gave you an easy smile in return, taking your hand in hers. You suddenly felt warm again.
As you reentered the back gate of the garden, you squeezed Alma's hand. She turned back to look at you with a questioning gaze. You simply pulled her in for another kiss and felt her smile against your lips. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you shared the secret kiss in the garden, in the dark, among the flowers. You pulled back and shivered as the wind danced across your wet skin. “Let’s get you inside,” she chuckled, pulling you to the back door.
You both kept quiet as you slipped into the house. The sound of water dripping echoed through the hall as salty drops fell from wet hair. Evidence of your late night excursion was present on the wood floor. Damp sandy footprints trailing behind you both as you made your way through the house. Emma watched from her bedroom door that was slightly ajar as you arrived at the top of the stairs. Alma placed a final quick peck on your flushed cheek before turning to her bedroom door, allowing you to cross the hall and retire to your room for the evening. Once your door was closed she turned and caught sight of the blonde girl. She simply held a finger to her lips playfully as if to say, not a word. 
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ambersweets134 · 3 months
Text
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Some Miss Peregrine fan art since there isn't enough
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cissyenthusiast010155 · 9 months
Text
Finally, Always, & Forever ~Dark!Miss Peregrine xFem Immortal!Reader
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@athenodora-sulpicia-writer Request- Miss Peregrine; If you do can you write a one shot with the numbers, 2, 60 and 62 from your Mummy Masterlist all for a female reader/character? And if you write it about Miss Peregrine can you make it dark Miss P?
Hey @athenodora-sulpicia-writer !! Thanks for the request and your patience 😊 I had fun researching Miss P and now I’m happy to say that I can write for her! I got some inspiration from @valentineisrotting on this one 🙃 And I also found a Stela Cole song to go along with it! To me, Love Like Mine appeals to the dark and sacrificial nature of Miss P’s love in this plus the “I’m so good that I’ll make you wanna stay up” line😫 (and much more but that’s the main point). Hope you Enjoy 💋
Mommy… Master List
Requests & Prompt-List
#2. “Be a good girl and tie yourself to the bed posts”
#60. “You broke the rules…”
#62. “I might do something I’ll regret…”
Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, little angst, little fluff, forbidden love (sort of but not really), kissing, eating out, fingering, punishment, overstimulation, gagging, mistress kink, praise kink, implied degrading kink, implied age gap (all legal), etc.
Enjoy (;
She’d told you to never visit. Not that she didn’t want you to… Hell, she longed for you to. No, because she was afraid they’d catch you.
See, you had what the scientists longed for… True Immortality. That was your peculiarity. You weren’t a simple child anymore, and if had gotten harder and harder to conceal with time. So out of preservation of both your lives, Alma had forbid you from coming to see her in her loops. It was letters only.
But once you’d heard of her loop nearly being damn near destroyed… You couldn’t help the urge to run into the arms of your lover to see if all was well.
You had heard from a friend that Miss Peregrine and her peculiar children had found a new home near New Zealand. So you travelled there and lo and behold, you found the rumored loop and house corresponding with it. You entered and walked through the front gate.
And next to the front door, talking to one of her children, stood the one and only, Alma Peregrine. You suddenly felt all childish again. You’d broken her only rule. But you didn’t care enough about that right now.
As you stood there from afar, mouth agape at your lover, Alma sensed something in the air had changed. You had started to walk up the front path to the house, when her gaze caught yours. A myriad of emotions washed over face.
Anger. Sadness. Pure joy. A little lust…?
As you walked up the house steps, Alma sent her child inside.
Before she could say anything, you began, “I know you told me… not to come… but…” you found yourself a stuttering mess, “but then I heard about you almost getting killed…?! And I just thought that I needed to know you were alright…”
Your gaze met hers as you hit your lips and blushed, unsure what she would do. Suddenly, it was like something broke inside the raven haired goddesses eyes. You gasped lightly as you were suddenly in her tight embrace.
“I was so worried for you…” she whispered.
Your eagerly returned her hug. Her lips peppering kisses all over your face and neck.
“Me? I was worried for you… Are you safe now…?” You whispered.
She nodded and pulled away slightly, growing more distant all of a sudden. Her gaze becoming darker.
“Love…?”
“Even though we’re safe now… You still broke the rules, my dear…”
Your breath hitched slightly. Light blush crept up your cheeks as you apprehensively nodded in recognition of your disobedience.
“I might do something I’ll regret…” She warily warned you.
Afterall, she hadn’t seen you in ages. And now she was getting a chance to lay hands on you once more. At her full Control. She wanted to check in with you first.
“I don’t care.” You whispered, “Use me. Fuck me. Edge me. I’m yours.”
At that, she smirked and nodded, her hand crept up your shoulder, as she brought her lips to the shell of your ear.
“Second floor, last door on the right…” she husked, “Be a good girl and tie yourself to the bed posts…”
Your breath hitched yet again.
“Yes mistress…” you whimpered, scurrying into the house and up the stairs.
You didn’t even register to explain your presence to her children, whom you passed along the way. Luckily, Alma had you covered on that front. As you stripped and dug around her closet for her signature black lace ties, Alma explained to her children a bit about you and your presence here.
When she came into her room, you were struggling in tying your second wrist to the bedposts. You’d already ties both your feet and your left wrist. The raven haired beauty chuckled lightly, and shutting the door, she came over to you.
“Let me help you, dear…” she purred, easily tying your wrist to the bedpost.
You and she both knew this was the nicest she was going to get tonight. After that, her tone and gaze went straight dark. The kind of darkness that made your thighs clench and your breath shallow… She then moved to the edge of the bed, taking in your entire form.
“You broke the rules…” she repeated, this time with an sharp edge to her tone.
You gulped.
“I did, mistress.” You whimpered, squirming under your restraints.
She hummed in satisfaction of your recognition.
“I haven’t touched you in ages…” she wickedly purred, licking her lips.
Even after all this time, it wasn’t hard to remember that she liked verbal answers…
“No, you haven’t, mistress…” you breathily whimpered.
“Safe words?”
“Green for good, yellow for pause, red for stop, and three taps for stop if I can’t speak.”
The raven haired woman hummed in recognition and then began stripping in front of you without another word. You whimpered lightly at the sight of her body, adorning a jaw-dropping sleek, black lingerie set. Your little sounds did not go unnoticed by the other woman. She then climbed on the bed, crawling on top of you.
“You’ll have to be quiet. I won’t have the children hearing your leud sounds.” She warned, “I will gag you if you can’t keep those pretty lips closed.”
You nodded vigorously, pursing your lips together tightly.
~~~
You knew she would punish you for breaking her rules, but fuck…
Why did she have to be so fucking skilled at it…?!
Her tongue dipped into your precious cunt tasting the juices of yet another orgasm which she had pulled out of you. You were a shaking, stuttering mess, who was desperately trying to stay quiet. But your head fell back in pure bliss as her tongue slotted itself inside your core once more.
“Fuck yessssss…” you hissed, tugging on your restraints.
At this, Alma cocked her head up and removed her tongue fully from your heated center. You hit back the whimper which was bound to try and escape you. The raven haired goddess then got up without another word and grabbed your knickers, shoving them in your mouth and effectively gagging you.
~~~
The stamina of this woman, you couldn’t…
She’d been bringing you over the edge for hours, punishing you with the double edged sword of overstimulation. One particular lick to your sensitive and puffy clit, sent you spiraling and spasming. Your back arched and you screamed into your knickers in response.
“Yes, sweet girl, I know your mistresses tongue feels so good. But why are you crying, sweet thing…?” She taunted.
She wasn’t wrong… Your mascara was running down your face. All from the pure utter, overstimulating bliss the woman as bringing you.
“You asked for this when you decided to break the rules…” she wickedly purred, attaching her hot mouth to your clit and sucking harshly.
A desperate cry of painful pleasure left your throat.
“Is this too much for you…?” She taunted, attaching her mouth back quickly on your clit.
You nodded vigorously, pulling tightly against your ties, your body spasming at her touch. But she firmly held your thighs for her easy access.
“That’s odd… look at how your dripping on my tongue…” She chuckled wickedly.
You let out a particularly desperate whine, which was easily muffled by your make shift gag.
“But that’s ok, sweet thing…” She lustfully purred, “If you keep crying like that your mistress will let you cum in her mouth however many times you’d like…”
New tears of pleasure streamed down your face as she brought you to yet another climax, leaving your throat sore and your legs trembling.
“My pretty crybaby…” she cooed while cleaning you up only to go down on your dripping cunt once more.
~~~
Aftercare was a staple for Alma. So when she was done with you, she gently scooped your fragile form up and carried you to her bathtub. She ran the water and then promptly joined you, making sure to live on you and clean you up proper. Then, the two of you snuggled in the water for a while. You nuzzled into her form lovingly.
“Missed you so much…” you murmered into the crook of her neck.
“I missed you too…” Alma whispered, kissing your nose affectionately, “You don’t ever have to leave again, my Dear…”
“I’m yours. Always and Forever…” you murmured, drifting off into a light slumber in Alma’s arms.
~~~
540 notes · View notes
1donoow · 10 months
Text
MIX FANDOM FANFIC REC PT.1
[Fanfics i've read]
Edited
......
♡ - smut
Mostly fluff
......
The letter room [richard alonzo muñoz]
MPHFPC [Alma peregrine][Enoch O'Connor]
encanto [the madrigals][camilo madrigal]
a series of unfortunate events [klaus baudelaire][violet baudelaire]
harry potter [weasley twins][neville longbottom][luna lovegoods]
narnia [Edmund pevensie]
triple frontier [santiago garcia]
·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·
———THE LETTER ROOM———
richard alonzo muñoz
@marvel-and-mischief - matching pyjamas
——————MPHFPC——————
@dapperappleton - imagine being an ymbryne and having your own loop
- imagine taking care of clair and olive
·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·
Alma peregrine
@vostokovasmelina - sleeping next to alma lefay perigine would include
@multifandomfix - imagine alma loving it when you paint her and the children
@zafirosreverie - an special case
·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·
Enoch O'Connor
@she-writes-with-kisses - quiet
- space jump
@dapperappleton - imagine being able to create death and dating enoch
@clean-bands-dirty-stories - shirtsleeves
@klineinie - blanketed
@imaginefan - story time
@y2fandom - sending him cute things
@frost-queen - no pain
@maeby-bby - you fluster me
@pink-princess-pussy-pop - dating enoch would include
————— ENCANTO ——————
madrigal
@cloud-9ine - madrigal reacting to being called their full name
@camilosnovia - there's two of them
- Madrigal Adults reacting to child!reader giving them gifts
·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·
Camilo madrigal
@sesamestreet47 - camilo w/ a tall s/o
- Camilo with a shy, sweet girlfriend
- friends
@nixthewolf - camilo simping over reader
@radiorenjun - shape-shifting frolics
@madrihoes - camilo nickname
@cloud-9ine - with or without you
@magicalencanto - camilo's s/o having power like pepa
@multificsworld - ___
- Tu Alma Tan Hermosa, Como La Luna
@caramellahoney - future daughter-in-law
- wait no wait-
@luvrcami - camilo headcannon
@bumblesimagines - being friends with camilo
@mihlo - camilo with fem s/o who wears glasses
@dos-oroguitas - angelita
- ay mamacita
— A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS —
klaus Baudelaire
@strangerdangerwrites - incompatible
@a-second-hand-sorrow - goodnight
- Not a problem
@ssadumba55 - not that easy
·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·
violet Baudelaire
@trustsalvatorewriting - dating violet Baudelaire would include
————HARRY POTTER————
@archivesofthevoid - Pulling their hair while making out
- The boys (+ Percy) stealing a kiss on the way to class hc
@lithiumfae - sexy habits they have (marauders)
·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·
weasley twins
@therandomficwriter - The Weasley Twins Having A Crush On You
@lilahisntsadanymore - Slytherin sunshine (fred)
@moonlit-imagines - ___
@therandomficwriter - weasley twins with a non ticklish s/o
·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·
neville longbottom
@hogwartseighthyear - crush
@very-unsirius - blurb
·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·
luna lovegoods
@iamthemain-character - Falling in Love with Luna Lovegood
@fromforeigntofamiliarity - taming cowardly lions
@sublimecatgalaxy - ___
——————NARNIA——————
Edmund pevensie
@pink-princess-pussy-pop - dating edmund would include
@wrenwreads - she's enough
- wardrobe malfunctions
@witchthewriter - being king edmund's wife would include
@pariahsparadise - warm pt.2
———TRIPLE FRONTIER ———
@violentdelightsandviolentends - tethered ♡
·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·
santiago garcia
@stormkobra-5 - ___♡
223 notes · View notes
tigersullivan01 · 10 months
Text
Mother figure Alma Peregrine x Reader
In one of the bathrooms Miss Peregrine is helping Claire to take a bath, the water is shallow in the tub with a small coat of soap bubbles on top. Miss Peregrine is sitting on her knees next to the tub with her white blouse on, the arms folded up nicely so they don’t get wet. A soft smile on her face as she helps Claire with the soap cloth. 
Y/n is sitting outside the open door in their fox form, their head tilted slightly to the side as they watched the interaction. Enoch walks by and notices Y/n sitting by the door, he stops and looks down at them in question. Y/n looks up at Enoch and slowly walks towards Miss Peregrine and the bath as Enoch watches intently. Y/n soft paws doesn’t make a sound against the tiles on the bathroom floor as they sneak up behind Miss Peregrine, they stop and makes themself ready to jump. 
As Miss Peregrine learns forward to reach the further side of Claire Y/n jumps up in the air and dives down into the bath, splashing water all over Miss Peregrine and the floor as Enoch stands in shock outside the bathroom before bursting out laughing. Y/n emerges from the water and looks up at a shocked Miss Peregrine frozen mid movement, when she snaps out of the shock she tries to grab Y/n, who desperately tries to get out of the bath and falls onto the floor with a wet squish then runs through the house and out the back door leaving after a wet trail of water and Miss Peregrine running after. 
Y/n pov
“Get back here Y/n!”Miss P yells as I run out into the garden, I see the other children looking shocked and surprised. It wasn’t normal for me to cause a ruckus nor get Miss P angry. I’m slightly scarred that she’s actually angry at me and didn’t se it as a funny joke. I start to pant harder as i run around the garden in circles with Miss P close behind me. I se Enoch by the back door laughing hard with Claire wrapped in a towel in his arms. I soon stumbled over my own paws and face painted into the grass, I’m surprised it didn’t happen earlier.
 I’m lifted off the ground by someone, I let out a soft yelp in surprise as i don’t like people touching me. I turn my head to se that it’s Miss Peregrine that has lifted me up with a small smile, her hair looks a little funny as it’s halfway drenched in water and some still styled up in her usual manner. “You need a bath dear, your fur is covered in soap”She says and starts walking inside. I put my front paws against her collarbone and pushes back not liking the idea of a bath, it’s a quite pathetic attempt at getting out of her arms so I give up. I rest my head on her shoulder, snuggling my nose into her neck and puts my front paws on ether side of her neck and closes my eyes. I feel and hear Miss P chuckle softly as she gently strokes my back. “All that running tiered you out hmm? I was quite surprised by your little stunt, it’s not very like you. I’m happy that you’re more comfortable now.”She whispers softly. 
Hi writer here! This is the first thing I have written and I’m bad at spelling and English isn’t my first language. Please give some feedback and request if you thought it was good! -Tiger
186 notes · View notes
ofc-fics · 8 months
Note
yandere!alma request person here:
hmm… maybe metal manipulation? honestly I have no preference but I feel it’d be cool to levitate and move metal objects e.g. knives 🫣, or perhaps
-lock metal keyholes/doors without a key
-melt or solidify metal objects
-transform it into different shapes or weapons
-we could move Alma’s stopwatch because of the metal rimming
those few just came to mind but there’s defo more.
And I feel it takes a lot of concentration - so a mind clouded with fear or anger or intense emotions may hinder the ability?? So yes we will definitely lose control at some point. Especially with being fresh meat.
I’m always team movie!Alma, so that’s my verdict.
but nevertheless take your time and do whatever you want with this - I mentioned a platonic relationship before but either would work as long as there’s little/no smut please! have fun :)
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First request
The sun shone bright every day. It wasn't until after sunset that rain clouds gathered and it was only on the night of September 3rd. Once the night reset, it was cool enough for wet hair to give someone a cold. And since it had rained, they were all ushered inside. Every day was the same. Everyone had chores. Millard stole enough milk for the kids who would want some throughout the day, Fiona grew all of the herbs and plants they ate and a few they didn't, and you cleaned Enoch's tools and de-rusted all of the plumbing. You halfway thought the kids only liked you because of how efficient the toilets worked since you began your chore. 
You manipulated metal in every sense of the word. You could move it, purify it, and shape it with a great deal of concentration. More often than not, you ended up tired and accidentally hurting someone. It felt useless as far as chores went and you'd yet to find a use for it otherwise. Still, you tried to practice. Once you got the chore down, you could do it all at once which was a sort of practice itself. It took a little less energy to do the same task each time. But it was headachey to be constantly surrounded by proof you were a pariah as far as society was concerned, that you would never live a normal life so you didn't always want to practice your Peculiarity. Sometimes, you played with the kids. Others, you'd go into town. Sometimes, you left the Loop to call home or check the mail, or - hell - just visit the mainland. The Headmistress didn't like that, but you were grown. 
Mastering your ability was still priority, though, so you spent a great deal of time in your room. You were on the higher spire of the house, a room with slanted ceilings, but you'd survived far more dire straits. So you used your space, lifting every bit of metal in your room to fill the space. They were drawn closer together, merging where possible. Some pieces merged where they really shouldn't and it was like one of those ole' challenges. 
"That's remarkable," came a breathy comment. 
You jumped in surprise, losing enough focus that you dropped your remarkable masterpiece. You turned and looked over your shoulder. Headmistress Peregrine stood in the doorway, watching subtly. You got nervous around the Ymbryne and not just because she was like the principal. She was drop-dead gorgeous and she cared so, but you were just another Ward to her. 
Only, you weren't. Alma didn't find you; you found the loop by accident, like fate. And you weren't underage. You were naive of their ways, but you knew the world and the weight of it. You loved her children, but had yet to love yourself all the while still discovering yourself. You were just Alma's type; someone who could help yet needed it. "You should practice downstairs. The kids would love to see every stage of discovery."
You put your hands in your lap, looking caught. "That's alright," you replied lightly, though your chest felt heavier. You tended to hurt others on accident when you lost control and you'd rather not accidentally slice open an eighty-year-old preteen. You pried the objects back apart and put them in their rightful places. 
Alma nodded, but maintained a concerned expression. "Lunch is ready," she informed with a smile. 
You nodded, facing the window. You weren't hungry, rather fancying a jog around 1943 Cairnholm. 
Miss Peregrine called your name scoldingly. You looked back at her. "Come downstairs and eat. I'll not have you starving yourself." As if that were even possible with her divine cooking and her attentive care. 
When you went to argue, Miss Peregrine delivered a glare that intimidated you into standing. Her stern demeanor faded once you were on the steps and she even lovingly held a hand on your back. It unsettled you but only because you knew you really oughtn't react, but you couldn't stop your shiver. Alma delighted in it as you stepped onto the ground floor. You sat in the only open seat, beside Enoch, and dinner was served. It was a simple yet delectable meal, though you were miles away while you nibbled. You were ever so grateful to Miss Peregrine for opening your eyes and showing you who you were. You had always hoped magic was real, while living like that was impossible. Now, you knew it was real and it was all thanks to a bird you'd stumbled on. Unfortunately, it seemed to have gone downhill from there. You had stayed to gain a better understanding of yourself and you'd grown to love the children. But you still had a life to get back to. And you refused to pay another month's rent for an bedroom you weren't even in. 
You'd have to speak with Alma in private. You dreaded being alone with her. She was a lovely woman, but you never knew what was out of line or inappropriate. You came from completely different times! Luckily, it seemed you'd help her with the dishes so that gave you the perfect opening. You were gathering plates before Alma even said your name, so you missed the pleased yet... possessive look she gave you. The soapy sink was nearly full when you approached, but you still put the dishes on the counter, using your dirty fork to scrape off the scraps. Ironically, your plate held the most uneaten food. 
Alma stared disapprovingly. 
You just shrugged. "I wasn't hungry." You stepped over to the suddy water, but she held a hand in front of yours to keep you from wetting them. You turned to her. 
"Can you wash without your hands?" she asked teasingly. 
You looked at the sink in contemplation. "The silverware at most." 
She nodded in excitement toward the dishes. She was practically bouncing. It was a little cute. 
The flatwear did indeed fly to the sink, dunking in the water and swishing around in there, but when you inspected it, you found grime remaining.  You bent the metal just enough to 'shake it off' before submerging again. Eventually, you just grabbed the sponge. "Evidently not," you answered, setting to work. Alma rinsed. You felt uncertainty try to talk you out of this conversation, but you pressed on. "Miss," you called, hoping your tone was light enough that she suspected nothing. She was terribly clever when she wanted to be. She hummed in acknowledgement. You didn't know where to start so you stopped cleaning. "Thank you, for telling me who I am- what I am. About the dangers and possibilities." 
Once you'd started, a depressed expression folded her face. But, at hearing 'possibilities', she felt hope. She was your best option. Her Home could be yours, if you just chose right. 
"But rent's coming due and I have to get back to work."
The hope shattered. Alma tried her best to hold back the expression of all her emotions. That was the other big option. Normal or loop life. It seemed you'd made your choice. 
"I really wish I didn't have to. Maybe I can come  back on vacations if my devil of a boss will let me."
That was quite a lot of curious statements and Alma tried to determine the hidden meanings. She quickly came to the realization that it meant you were under the cruel, normal impression that your responsibilities were mandatory. Now, she respected that, but a job was not a calling. She'd been called to serve the young and you'd willingly come to her. "Why do you have to?" she asked, she hoped neutrally. 
You handed her a glass to rinse. "What?"
Setting the clean dishes on a towel, Alma stepped into your space. "Why... do you have to return to the Normal world?" It wasn't a complicated question. 
But you still struggled to answer. Yes because you hated your job and Normal life was a daily struggle, but mainly due to her strong presence. You didn't know if it was an Ymbryne thing or a Peculiar adult thing, but Alma always made her presence felt. And right now, towering over you, it brought back some bad memories. For someone to go from so cheery to sad and now calculatingly bold, it felt very manipulative. Sure, one had to control their emotions to work with children, but this felt more extreme. But tears built in your eyes as you remembered them all, standing over you about to hit. You remembered needing to get their permission to do anything. And leaving wasn't an option. 
Concern painted Alma's features, a hand instinctively raising to wipe the wetness away. 
You turned away before she could - you didn't even know why - and left the room. You didn't expect her to follow, calling your name. When she had your wrist, your fear snowballed. You half-turned to her. "I'm... fine. I just need a minute. Are we done cleaning?" You knew you were, but the confirmation would be permission to leave. 
"I can help-" She took your shoulders, unintentionally, you hoped, controlling your actions and triggering you further. 
You shook off her hold, backing away from her. "I don't want your help. I can do this."
"You don't have to be alone-"
At this point, you were both running on desperate emotions and so you were finishing and cutting off each others' comments. You very suddenly raced out the front door, done talking. You tried to close and lock the door on her, but the doorknob just melted. You finally got your run around the island, a blue bird overhead. You were just beginning your second lap when you made a sudden detour. 
Blue wings flapped to beat you there. She knew where you were going, of course as this was her island, and it was awfully soon after the conversation that you were trying to have. You didn't even say goodbye, though she supposed she'd cut that off. She was quite a bit ahead of you when she landed but you caught up quick. She caught you by the hands and you nearly crashed into her, breathing hard. 
You backed away again, but didn't take off. Leaning against a tree, you turned your head in the direction of the cave. 
"Talk to me," Alma ordered sympathetically. 
You shook your head, unwilling to even if you were breathing properly. 
"Because you cried? Family sees more than tears, dear." She already considered herself and her wards your family, showing how deluded she was. But she was determined. If you went out into the world as you were now, you could lose control over your peculiarities at the worst moment and that was the best case scenario. But if you stayed, the only outcome Alma could see was you accepting your home by the time you'd mastered your ability. So why leave before you were ready? The woman stepped closer to you again, only open understanding on her face this time. "Who hurt you?"
Tears didn't build. By the time you'd moved your eyes to hers, they were flowing down your face, parting like the Red Sea around your gasps. 
Alma felt it second-hand and she brought you into her arms. "Who was it?" she encouraged you gently. 
You hid in her jacket, feeling foolish despite the fact that everyone cried, at every age. "He... wouldn't let me leave," was all you managed to gasp out before trying to pull away again. 
Well, that wouldn't do. Some man abusing you and the love you had. And it didn't help Alma who was trying to keep you. "Come back home. We can go over it and I can help you."
"The only help I need is to know I can come and go as I please." You put your hands on her biceps to keep her back. "Please just let me go."
"Please stay," Alma heard herself beg. "No one will hurt you; no one can find you here. I love you."
That was an alarming confession. Knowing each other for less than 30 days and to say that? She was either super emotional or super clingy. "You share so many traits," you laughed out. 
Alma frowned at what she perceived as an accusation. She made a split-second decision and reached into her hair. As with every transformation, a few feathers lingered in her locks. She pulled it free, accidentally - but planning to - distracting you. As you flinched away in confusion, the Ymbryne managed to distract you, dusting over your nose. You looked like you wanted to say something, but Alma knew you couldn't. She saw your pupils dilate and your jaw slacken. She stepped back into your space, grateful when you didn't pull away from her. Not that it was your choice. "What was his name?" Alma asked, wanting to fully eradicate your domestic abuser from your memory. 
"Who?" you asked back in a voice so empty it couldn't be yours. 
Alma smiled. An even better reaction than she was expecting. Usually, so vague an idea of the object of the memory wipe meant the object was only half gone. A trace of memory of the conversation or the wipe would stick and the whole memory would come flooding back. A gentle touch to your chin made you look at Alma. "Now, we're going back to the house and you're going to consider staying with us forever. You'll think on it seriously. Put aside your pride and trust me. And start telling me about your past." She looked you over, decided whether or not to do it. She hunched down a bit, shocking your system with a kiss. 
*
You laid on your back beside your Ymbryne, in her bed, telling her all about you. You started with your shitty mother, using drugs and locking you in the closet when you protested anything. Then came a spark of light in the form of your High School girlfriend, but she moved away for college. Then came a series of dark lovers who cared more for what they wanted than anything to do with you. And you'd suffered through it until you clawed your way to freedom, got a job, blended in. And then you went on vacation to a nothing island where no one would find you. I was just a broad outline of your timeline, but it was enough for Alma. 
The two of you felt as if you were in your own world, a half-truth, until the haze fully left your brain. You turned your face from her, trying to adapt to all the changes made in your mind. A yawn split your face and you slowly sat up. "I'm exhausted. Didn't even do anything today."
Alma smiled faintly and laid her hand on your back. "Get some sleep. We can talk more later."
You hardly considered the order before obeying, yawning again. It was after reset after all; you fell asleep the second your head hit the pillow, your legs burning something awful like you'd been running a long time. 
The same beautiful sun rose every day, but the one which woke you seemed to glitter rather than beating down. It felt like potential, not a prison. Why was that unusual?
You didn't bother getting dressed yet, walking down the stairs in a loose robe. You felt like something had changed as sensing the metal you had to purify came as easily to you as walking. Someone had to teach you that too. But your Peculiar chore was done before you reached the dining room. Most of the children were up only Enoch and Millard missing. You hoped the invisible boy wasn't in the seat you were about to take between Horace and the Twins. It was free and you piled your plate with whatever you wanted. Miss Peregrine always had such an impressive spread. Once it passed 8:30, they were all released from the table. 
Until Claire called up to the head of the table. "Miss Peregrine!" 
"Polite persons do not shout when the one they're speaking to are two feet away," Miss Peregrine explained, gathering plates. 
You stood to do the same. 
"Can we go to the beach after our chores? Please, we haven't been in ages!" she tried to persuade her Headmistress. 
"Why are you cleaning? It's Enoch's turn," Hugh asked, earning a glare from the deadriser. 
You looked over at him with a kind expression. "No, he goes after me and it's been about a week since I had 'em."
"I think that's a lovely idea, Claire. Best go pick up the sun room," she prompted. September 2nd had been an eventful day all around, and toys were strewn about in the Sun Room, the safest room in the house, not collected until after breakfast. None of the little ones who helped make the mess could play until Claire took care of her only chore. 
In the kitchen, you and Alma took the plates to the sink. The metal knob spun itself to turn on, but Alma used her hand to turn it off. "He's right, you know. We did the dishes yesterday."
Watching her turn the faucet off triggered some sort of Déjà vu and you believed her. "I washed the silverware."
Alma smiled with a nod. "Yes."
You touched your temple, broadcasting your tumultuous mind. 
"We all get our days a little mixed up sometimes." She didn't dare mention that it meant you were becoming part of the family for fear it would remind you that you weren't permanent yet. Alma still had a long way to go before you were in the realm of staying, not that she knew just how or had done this before. When everyone else agreed to let her care for them, they'd been fully cognizant. "You should hurry along to Enoch's lab. Any chores not bound to the clock will be done in 17 minutes and 25 seconds." She steadily pushed you from the kitchen. 
"I did all my metalwork," you argued. 
Alma didn't want to doubt you, as you'd never been a liar, but you'd looked like you could barely hold a thought when you first came downstairs. To imagine you fixing the metal by instinct... warmed her heart. "Then go get changed. We leave at 9:30 sharp."
You nodded then wandered to your room. You had only packed a single swimsuit, having never imagined staying so long and it remaining so warm and beautiful. You'd never imagined this wonderland. Back in the foyer, you helped Claire put the finishing touches on her bathing suit. She wouldn't go out very far, so looking pretty was the goal. Millard was only showing by his swimtrunks. Even the pale Enoch was decked out in swimwear. 
The walk down was peaceful enough, though chatty. The children were chittering over the top of each other, Bronwyn and Claire hanging off  your arms, explaining how amazing it was, and how empty. It was nice they had their own beach, and it was very nice weather. So after 20 minutes battling both the waves and the romping kids, you retreated to the shore.  
Miss Peregrine had set up a blanket and laid out towels. You took one and dried as best you could. You sat beside the Headmistress. She'd been watching you all, carefully from the shore, but now, she only had eyes for you. There were so many ways you could react to what Alma had done: full-blown amnesia or seizures, random irritation or serious anger issues. But you showed no signs of being affected besides forgetting your plan to leave. 
"Those Germans chose a lovely day for you, Miss Peregrine."
A twisted smile donned the Ymbryne's face and she bowed her head to show her appreciation, also twisted. "What do you think of our little Home?" she asked finally. 
"Sometimes, I wonder if I'm dreaming."
Alma showed more teeth with her next grin. "I assure you, this could be your reality."
You felt the impulse to argue, deny her, but you weren't sure why. You trusted Miss Peregrine. You ran the towel through your hair, mostly to stall from responding. Also, luckily, Emma came over, bored with being unable to swim with the others. The three of you bonded easily and she was a welcome distraction to your conflicting feelings. They shouldn't have been, but the thought of staying gave you the shivers, and not the good kind. You smiled through the interaction, your mind in a whole other place. 
You and Alma ended up carrying one of the Twins home while Bronwyn carried little Claire. The Ymbryne moved in unison with you to tuck in the little boys. You stepped back to take in your work, tensing when a hand on your back. You looked over your shoulder at the woman trying so hard. She didn't even have to try, having to hold herself back, in fact. "Would you like a nightcap?" she offered, knowing the kids would be exhausted and were likely already asleep. 
You nodded slowly, despite yourself. It was worth it to see that smile. You ventured back downstairs together, sitting together at the table. You awed that Alma even owned alcohol, sipping the cinnamon drink. 
"You never truly answered what you thought about the Home."
You met her gaze which was fueled by the embers of a thousand flames. She needed this answer. You set your cup down, facing her fully. "You know your Home - this Loop - is a marvel. I don't know how you don't shout it from the rooftops." That earned a light blush. "And who you keep from going mad - the true miracle. You're amazing, Miss Peregrine, and so is all you do." Even with all the anxiety and doubt you felt toward the striking woman, you felt all you'd just said. It was terribly confusing. 
Alma softened, the fire lowered to a simmer, still intense but less urgent. "Call me Alma," she insisted in a gentle whisper. A navy taloned, pale hand reached across the table and set on yours. Those midnight eyes poured emotions into yours. Her hand left yours in an instant, and it hovered in the space between you both. After a sufficient time thinking, the tips of both her nails and fingers touched under your chin, lifting them. she stared at you and likewise, both of you feeling a communication that needed no words. The energy between you was heady and you needed no request for the woman to fulfill what you were both thinking about. Alma captured your lips in hers. It was like time stopped and perhaps it did, if the Ymbryne was half as affected as you. It was a sweet one, even if your feelings made it hella dizzying. 
When she pulled back, it appeared Alma was affected just the same. "We should discuss this," she commanded. For the rest of the night, you two talked - though not about your relationship. You spoke on everything under the sun, broken up by whole makeout sessions. Eventually, the sun rose and you both set about the morning routine. Breakfast was made in record time and you thought you were being subtle. But the kids knew of course. They could see the brightness in her smiles brighter and freer since your arrival. Their Ymbryne touched them more, kind as ever, but it was the changes that registered. You were unknowingly cementing your place among them. You were expanding paradise. 
You slept in the guest room that night, tired from all the not sleeping. Little did you know, you had a visitor. Alma stood in the doorway to your room for an inordinate amount of time. She stared at your vulnerable state before her resolve broke. She joined you in the bed. 
Alma took your hands, watching the memories she knew still haunted you be fluttered away, as if on a bird's back. 
Another abusive lover swept from your mind, not to mention the job which had done nothing to protect you. You'd met him through work - the job you still held - and his subtle manipulations mirrored hers too much. The isolation, he even seemed to truly care for you. But he did it wrong. He laid a hand on you. Alma didn't need you thinking she'd do the same. 
And so went your roots to the outside world. You didn't remember you had a job; you didn't have anything to do with your family. Who knows how long you survived the real world, but you're safe now! When she used her feather to end the session, your sneeze woke you up, thank goodness. She didn't want to do it. "I've changed the linens. Come back to bed."
Your fragile brain took that excuse as to why you were in the guest room, and it used the suggestion to trick you into thinking you were Alma's longtime girlfriend. You obeyed, to Alma's delight. You yawned, but followed. 
*
Every time you watched Alma get ready for the day it left you breathless. It felt like the first time you'd seen her without makeup, but of course you'd seen it before. Of course you had. And the sleepy kisses were divine. Watching pale flesh become porcelain felt like an honor. You witnessed her don her signature colors, slowly transforming into the venerable Headmistress. But she wasn't there yet, blazer and pocketwatch, shoes and hairpins still missing. It was the most beautiful, domestic image you'd ever seen and you wanted it photographed. 
Lacking the equipment to do so, you drew it out as long as you could. The white fabric of her blouse scooped low as she reached for her watch. It slid just beyond where she set her fingers down. Something in her twitched and her eyes jerked over to you briefly. She reached again, fingers curled to scoop it up. The watch slid backwards again, but it crossed the edge of the desk yet it maintained the lying-down position. Alma crooned your name, wondering how she wasn't supposed to know this was you. 
You fake snored. 
"Oh, is that how we do now? Distract then fake?!" The ravenette pounced on you, fingers digging into your sides. You broke character then burst out laughing. You wiggled and writhed under Alma, trying to escape, but Alma was too smart. She eventually released you of her own free will, but hovered over you. "Breakfast," she commanded, eyeing your lips. 
You nodded, trying to find motivation just as she was. "Breakfast," you repeated her. You got dressed in far less time than Alma, not nearly as bad of a perfectionist, and you went downstairs together, Alma's arm around your waist. It was a well-oiled machine, practiced for - how long had you been there now? It was like heaven; time had no meaning.But it did outside of here; you couldn't just disappear. 
Alma called you back to the task with your name, expressing concern. But you shook it off and went back to cooking. The rest of the morning went well, children playing together. It was what Alma wanted always and now she could watch with her arm around you. Everything was perfect. 
"I was thinking about heading out to get the mail," you whispered to the other woman. 
To the Ymbryne, it felt like her heart stopped. After all of her memory wiping and effort, you still felt the impulse and wanted to exercise your right to leave. She slowly faced you, holding your face. She very gingerly kissed you, taking your breath. She pulled back and stared very lovingly into your eyes. "No," she said simply. 
Alma watched the confusion and hurt twist your features until what she said sunk in. "What?" you were an inch from shouting. 
Chilled fingertips traced down your face, claws scratching when she moved her hand so low. "You stay here. With me. Forever. I'll get the mail because it does need to be checked, but I don't want you out in real time until everyone you encountered on the island has passed."
Your jaw fell slack. 
"It's not safe."
"I'm not-"
Alma knew everything so it made sense she anticipated an argument you couldn't remember having before. "You are staying. Forever. You promised!" She buried her face in your top. It hardly mattered if you truly had or not. You would, one day. 
You wrapped the woman up in your arms, holding her close. You knew her brothers and losing the Wards that she had had screwed her up and you were sure reliving the same day, the same kills, and no growth only made it worse. So you just held the worried woman. "I'm not going anywhere. But I have to check if my roommate mailed. She was one of the only people in the Normal world to help me. Goodness only knows why after so many months without me helping with rent. She deserves this."
So, you had another connection to Normals, but you'd never had more than two nice words to say about her. Altering your memory must have forced you to jump some conclusions. But the root was still you wanted to leave and felt you had to. She would have to work on that with you. "You don't." Well, you'd have to find out eventually. "You just think you do because you have a big heart, and missing memories." Perhaps revealing how much she truly loved you would help you understand. 
You were of course enraged that she was messing with your mind. You felt the very strong urge to hit her, not that you would ever oblige. You felt all the trust sapped from you in a moment. If she claimed to love you, what traumas could she have taken from you? Could she give you new, fake memories? Were your parents really abusive and absent? Had you ever been paranoid like now? Were you always as alone as you felt just then?
"Please! Calm down," Alma tried to persuade you. She made the strong eye-contact, willing the argument to fade from your mind. And while she was at it, she wanted that roommate gone too. 
You turned away from her. "Calm- I don't believe you! You crack someone's life apart and seek tranquility?!"
Alma was stunned her trick didn't work. You were too worked up. 
"You deserve to have your little house torn apart, as it's obviously glued together by a master scum manipulator."
The Ymbryne had sensed the presence, but hadn't been able to do anything about it until she heard the disembodied gasp. She clapped her hands over your mouth, pulling you upstairs with great effort. You were still arguing, fighting now spewing profanities and always making for the exit. Alma managed to force you into her room, locking it with her key. 
You opened a window and went to climb out it. 
Alma pulled you back in by your shirt. "No!" she finally shouted in response. She pulled you in the direction of her bed and the momentum landed you on it. Alma was on top in a heartbeat, pushing you down and holding your hands. "I never expected to do this. You were the sweetest thing wandering into my loop, all naive."
"How can I believe anything you say?"
"Your life before here was wretched you were always on guard, overtired, and alone. I just wanted to ease that. And I am! You just have to keep trusting me!"
"Keep?! You! Get off!" you demanded, kicking your feet in discomfort, pushing her away as best you could. 
Alma's pocket watch flew from her pocket, but there was no direction. Looking around, the Ymbryne saw everything metal reacting though it was listless. Obviously, you were going haywire, but your power couldn't do anything about it. But she obliged, blocking the exit. "Until you are stable, you're not to leave this room. And you're not to have contact with the children."
"I want nothing to do with your Home! Or your children!" 
Alma set her jaw, leaving the rooms. She locked the door with a key and trusted you wouldn't jump out the window. Doing so would only get you injured, as you were on the 2nd floor, and then Alma could nurse you back to health. Heading down the stairs, she ignored the sounds of you trying to break down her door. She had to do damage control. She found all of the children on the grass beneath the falcon topiary. And she even saw the flat grass where Millard was sitting. She sat among them. 
The saddened Bronwyn didn't wait for the question. "Why doesn't Miss like us anymore?"
The question itself, the expression on her face was heartbreaking as it was irritating - at Millard. "Oh... my girl... Our newest friend is just struggling with what we all did. She's just trying to see where her place is."
Hugh raised both of his arms up. "Here!" he answered as if for you. 
Alma smirked, holding his face. "Yes," she whispered. "I'll ask you all not to hold what she said against her; she didn't mean it." When she returned to her room, the banging had stopped. It had for a while; thank God the kids had the peace to eat. Perhaps you'd lost enough power that she could end the argument early. But, no, your determination had just forged a new plan. Three blankets tied together would get you low enough to safely fall. With a sigh Alma set down the food she'd brought up, with just a spoon just to be on the safe side. As the older Peculiar neared your escape route, you backed away. You didn't trust either of you in close proximity. Alma untied the blankets and put them back where they went. She hoped you'd use the time to eat, never wishing you to starve. 
But no. You sat on the other side of the room, dark distrustful eyes boring a hole into her. But the Ymbryne just got ready for bed, occasionally giving you a look. She wanted to know exactly what you were thinking, how to fix it, and most importantly - she wanted you to go to sleep beside her. But you'd refuse, paranoid. Yes, the second you fell asleep, she would fix your little disagreement. But it was for you. She stayed awake as long as she could, trying to outlast you, and she'd awoken several times in the middle of the night. Each time, you were awake, glaring at her. But you didn't hurt her, no matter how much you wanted to. The sun rose and, like usual, there was no change. You were still scared, and pissed, the food was still there untouched, and it looked like you hadn't moved. Alma sat up in her bed, staring pityingly at you. "Are you calm?" she asked, hoping exhaustion had softened your anger. 
"Find out," you commanded through gritted teeth. That answered  that. With how practiced and at ease she was with your aggression, you couldn't help but wonder if you'd been in this situation with her before. Alma went about her morning, locking the door again. This time, you made no noise as if that would prevent her from knowing when you were plotting. She left the children to eat and took you a plate. You threw it at her head. 
So, after another day spent with you "grounded", Alma returned again to the room to find various metal implements melted onto the flooring. You had obviously failed to get a grip on yourself enough to free yourself, despite trying. You sat on the floor, head leaning on the seat of her vanity. 
With a cooing sigh, Alma made her way to you. But once you saw the Ymbryne, passions started running high again. You tried to shove her away from you, ignoring her exasperated tut. Soon and fast, she'd tied your hands together - in front of you - with a rope. "You need water, food, and sleep. And I intend to see to it that you get what you need. This meltdown has lasted long enough." She went to move away, pulling you by your bound wrists. She brought you to the bed and helped you get on. She sat on the opposite side of the bed after gathering what she planned to force you to consume. She eyeballed you pulling at the ropes, unintentionally chaffing yourself. "Not even Bronwyn could break those ropes," Alma promised. 
"Tested that, did you?" you hissed almost sarcastically. 
"Yes, actually. But unlike with you, she was untied immediately as I knew she wasn't going to hurt me." The woman's retort was quick before she held a cup to your lips, giving you some much needed hydration. You lost your retort and even planned to spit it back onto her, but your sandpaper throat needed it. You drank it dry, ignoring the pleased yet smug expression. When she held fork with food up for you, though, you turned your neck to bite her hand. But the Bird moved faster, dropping to the food to catch your chin. "I am all you have," she reminded you quite harshly. 
You frowned at her, unable to tell if that was the truth or just what she wanted you to remember. You turned to sit against the headboard, watching Alma threw away the food. 
She returned to the bed once changed and held the end of the rope. "Lay down with me," she requested, though not really. 
"No," you answered. 
Alma sat back up beside you, a stern set to her face. Normally, you'd have been cowed into obedience, but this wasn't a caretaker having their Ward do what was best for them. This was a person trying to make another person vulnerable to make them into a puppet. She called your name in warning, though it wasn't really a warning. 
"You're going to do it again," you were certain. Tears flooded your eyes that refused to meet hers. Your shoulders started shaking and you flinched when she tried to touch your chin. You started crying for real after that, tried to wipe your own face but struggled with your hands bound. You wept in full, unable to fathom how you'd gone from looking up to and crushing on the woman to being afraid to have her touch you. But she did hold you, your hands still bound between you both. You sobbed into her shoulder, terrified she would wipe you any moment and you'd just be confused about your own tears. Would Alma just lie? You didn't remember anything about how or when or even what you'd forgotten and that would likely work against you. If you didn't know how she started, you couldn't stop her. "It's my past," you spoke more. "I lived it, every day, fought tooth and nail for it, and you're just gonna take it." You cried a little softer against her, feeling a leaden weight fill your limbs. You knew you were going to sleep whether you wanted to or not. You rose your eyes to meet hers. "And you drugged the water."
"Just some allergy medication to help you sleep." She patted your hair almost soothingly. 
You tried to push her off, angrily growling, "I'm not allergic to anything." But you could feel the rage melting away, pulling your senses too. 
Alma took everything in stride, and always made light of serious situations. "Good to know," is all she said as you slipped asleep. 
*
Wet lips on your face, all over it, in fact, woke you up and the first noises you made were giggles. Your eyes fluttered open to seek the offender, not noticing the uncomfortable marks on your wrists or the extra soreness in your eyes. 
"Good morning, my love," Alma greeted cheerfully. She was so excited you could come back downstairs you'd not be leaving her side all day. 
You yawned. "Mornin'." Alma didn't take offense, know you'd been having turbulent sleep. "Mmm. I need a shower," you started listing responsibilities. 
But she knew that was right. "I'll make breakfast while you do."
Right on cue, your stomach growled as if it had been weeks since you'd eaten. You both went to work. But simply standing was proving difficult. Your head spun at the slightest movement, body aching from you didn't know what, and  you had a migraine. But you pushed through, wanting to see the kids you felt like you hadn't seen in ages. 
They were mostly seated at the dining table, the youngests excited like they hadn't seen you in ages. 
To your utter surprise, Enoch chose to sit next to you. It was almost like it wasn't unusual until he spoke and it was. "I'm glad you and Miss Peregrine are done fighting."
You frowned in confusion. "Pretty sure I've never so much as disagreed with your Ymbryne."
Enoch didn't frown, but he did narrow his eyes like he was studying you. In the end, he knew what was happening - obviously more than you - and he accepted it with a hum. 
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