Once, there was an island.... // MPHFPC one shots, imagines, and misc !

The Greatest of The Greeks {OC}

a request for the darling @BLESSMYSTARS <3!! originally from a different characters POV but i rewrote it and therefore took so much long that i needed to, all apologies-,
its a shorter chapter b/c for the love of god i struggled to agree with my own writing, but im definitely gonna build off this idea later on i love florence sm 
AMOD time period//

She was born in the chaos.
Florence knew aftermaths well, she watched life bloom and destroy itself in it time and time again. Her cool eyes watched the Acre, her friends, the ymbrynes and the wards they were charged with protecting.
How many peculiar children had ended up dead?
She could hear their whispers when she wandering these desolate streets. The voices of children just beyond her reach calling out for their mothers, for mercy. Death was a disgusting thing.
It took, and took, and took some more, and left Florence Murphy wishing she could do something more than bear witness to its aftermath.
Yet Florence walked beside Death, and she watched him do his work with a bitter and imperceptible expression.

If the gallowsmen woke her up one more time, she was going to learn to copy that expression.
Florence groaned and tugged the sheets over her head, turning away from the open window. The Acre was alive with noise at all times, it was the nature of this godawful place, but she was sick of it. She wanted to sleep in.
Like always, voices from the others wavered up through the floorboards. Emma, already wide awake, was the most recognizable, although her voice was at the same volume it was every other time. She was ranting about something, and Florence could hear a majority of it.
" For the love of all things, can you get her up already?" Emma was saying. " Get off the ceiling! Where are your shoes?"
There was a clamor in the stairwell, and the door to the room Florence had been sharing with Millard swung open. Horace's voice filled the room, confident and ridiculously loud first thing in the morning.
" Up!" He announced, yanking the blanket away. She threw her arm over her eyes and waved him away.
" 10 more minutes."
" Nope! Today is a day of adventure, Miss. Murphy! So, up!"
" Adventure can wait. I'm tired."
Horace groaned, tugging on her arm. " Get up, you ass! You get to meet Jacob today! Actually, this time!"
That caught her attention. " The kid?" She asked, moving her forearm to see him properly. Horace nodded.
" Isn't he like... in Florida? Or something?"
" Yes."
" Horace, we're in London. And not even a good part of London."
" Yes, I'm aware."
" How the hell are we getting to Florida?"
" You'll find out if you get out of bed." He pulled again, and Florence groaned.
" Fiiiine."
" Finally!" He let go, smoothed his jacket, and smiled. " Breakfast is waiting for you. We leave as soon as Miss. Peregrine gets back."

They did leave as soon as Miss. Peregrine arrived home- the poor ymbryne had hardly gotten through the door before she was swarmed. Olive, missing her shoes, dropped onto the headmistresses shoulders, her small hands planted on Miss. P's black clad shoulders. Claire had wrapped herself around her hands, while Bronwyn and Emma were talking over each other with their excitement.
Florence, leaning against the kitchen table, bit into her apple in a desperate- and failed- attempt to hide her laughter.
Behind her were Enoch and Millard, both half asleep. Hugh was thumbing through some novel. Enoch was practically dead, leaning on one hand with his eyes half closed. Millard kicked him under the table. He kicked the invisible boy in return and went back to how he was.
" Yes, I'm aware, you're all very excited-" Miss. Peregrine was saying, in her prim, motherly voice, batting her wards away. " Back up, please, Miss. Elephanta, where are your shoes?"
" I left them somewhere else! Lost them! It's a big day, they hardly help anyways!" Olive explained, joyously.
" Go find them, Miss. Elephanta. We'll be doing quite a bit of walking today."
" Awh, really?"
" Yes, really. Off you all go, now, let me through-"
Miss. Peregrine left a heavy stack of books on the counter, balancing them haphazardly against the wall. Her hair was out of it's usual bun, wavy around its ends, cropped just above her shoulders. For a woman who seemed so proper, she sure had a bad habit of collecting children just the opposite.
" Where's Mr. Somnusson?" She asked, no one in particular.
" Changing again, probably." Emma answered.
" Again?" The ymbryne sighed. " Someone go retrieve him, please, so we can leave. Miss. Elephanta, your shoes are under the table."
Olive groaned. Millard went to collect Horace.

They ended up in the present day a solid hour after leaving. One of the countless self proclaimed "protectors of the birds" had gotten in their way, despite Miss. Peregrines position, and Emma had quite literally burnt his eyebrows off.
Miss. Peregrine herded them all onto a bus, Claire's small hand tight in her own, and the day was lost to the rolling landscapes of modern America. Florence didn't know what to expect, in all honesty, but it definitely wasn't the endless boredom. 
She counted all the red cars the bus passed. She held her breath every time they passed a cemetery or a funeral home. She made up life stories for every stranger on the bus. The old man with the tan coat used to want to be an author, but he found his real passion in STEM. The brunette woman with a baby wrapped close to her chest was a single mother working towards her second degree. The couple at the front met on a whim years ago, on a trip to Italy with their separate friend groups, and the man was planning on proposing soon. 
That's what Florence did. When her own, typically insane life became mundane, she built kingdoms of pasts for others. It was an old habit, of course those are the hardest to get rid of, but it was her favorite. 
If being a medium didn't work out, maybe she could write.
They reached their destination just short of 23 hours later. The first thing Florence noted about Florida is how it was hot, even at the end of August. Enoch fanned himself with one of the countless pamphlets scattered around the bus station, while Olive leaned close in an attempt to get some for herself. He bonked her head with the paper, and she laughed. 
Miss. Peregrine led her children from the station to yet another bus, this time to a small barrier island off the coast. From the window, Florence could see the houses of rich people rising over scattered trees, and she felt a ember of hope light up in her chest.
Jacob Portman- hollow slayer and basically hero of peculiardom- lived here, with his parents who knew nothing about just how extraordinary he was. Florence had only met him once, when he'd taken down the wight facility in the Acre. Truth be told, he scared her. 
But when fear comes, something is about to happen. 
They wandered down the streets of a dead silent neighborhood, sweating despite the dusk settling over the small town. Millard, filling a suit he was likely sweating to death in, bounced on his heels ahead, Claire clinging to his hand and skipping beside him. Miss. Peregrine in her Victorian attire took the lead. Her stiff posture likely made her seem mildly intimidating to anyone who'd bother to look out their window.
But who would think to do such a thing?
Jacobs house was brick faced, with white curtains hanging in the windows and empty flower beds lining the porch. A car was pulling out of the driveway.
It skidded to a stop when the peculiar children stepped in front of it, a scrawny man staring at them with wide eyes from the drivers seat.
Miss. Peregrine stepped forward, her chin raised and that clever, all knowing smile she wore so well brushing over her lips.
" Who the hell are you?" The man in the drivers seat snapped.
" Alma Lefay Peregrine," She replied. " Ymbryne Council leader pro tem and headmistress of these peculiar children. We've met before, though I don't expect you to remember. Children, say hello."
Florence waved. The man passed out.

Jacob Portman seemed to always look lost. 
His vibrant blue eyes couldn't seem to believe what was before him. Here was Enoch, splayed out on the couch as if he had never been near anything more comfortable. Here was Olive, already abandoning her shoes to crawl about the ceiling. Here was Horace and Hugh, already invading the kitchen. Here was Millard, skimming decor magazines and already missing his clothes. Here was Florence, standing stiffly by the door and trying to decide what to do.
Slowly, after Millard had explained how it was possible that they were here, Jacob turned to her. " I'm sorry, but have we met?"
" Not properly, no," Florence said, holding out her hand in greeting. " Florence Murphy, medium."  
"... Medium?"
" I can see and speak to ghosts."
" Ah. Yeah! I remember you! You knocked that wight out with a brick, didn't you?"
She did, actually. The battle that followed the collapse of Abaton had been a blur of violence, one Florence had made an effort not to throw herself into. She had armed herself with bricks, though, taken from the wreckage of the facility, and she'd gotten some nasty hits in. Had she realized the legendary Jacob Portman was watching her, she would have tried to do more damage. 
" Yes! I did! It's a pleasure, really, to actually speak to you, I only offered a brief goodbye before-"
" Awesome. Make yourself comfortable, I guess. Everyone else already has."
" Alright. Thank you, Jacob."
He smiled, a crooked grin that seemed far more natural than the closed off, distant boy she had built in her mind. Florence returned the same smile, more awkward than troublemaking.
She liked him. Not in the way Emma did, but in the way you could tell if people were good to be around or not. Despite the legend the Acre had built around this twig of a boy, Florence thought she would come to like him quite a bit.

Jacob Portman, although his reputation was twice the beast he was, was going to be a good friend to have, indeed.