Miss Peregrine's Short Stories

*10*E.O'C x Y/N*

You sat under the old oak with your toes wriggling in the cold grass. You placed a pale hand on the grass and watched it full with colour as the grass withered and dry up. You lifted your hand to see a perfect handprint standing out from the rest of the luscious green grass. Claire slammed down a doll beside you. You abruptly turned to be greeted by a pain stricken face.
"Her arm broke." mumbled Claire her bottom lip jutting out. You looked at the doll and carefully picked it and it's broken limb up.
With a soft smile you comforted. "How about I see if I can fix it?"
Claire glumly nodded and went off to lament to Bronwyn who was playing Peter Pan with Olive.

You slipped on your stockings and buckled up your shoes. You pulled yourself off the ground and felt a sharp rush go to your head. You rested a hand against the tree and as you removed it to start the trek to he house patches of bark crumbled off and a few leaves dried. The creepy doll stared up at you and quickly you shoved it in your pocket. You felt like, as well as most people in the house, the doll was also judging you. You couldn't help when sometimes the trees died, or the grass browns, or the ground dries up, or the moisture is sucked out food, or that you sometimes forget to wear rubber gloves washing the dishes. You tried to keep the water level full but sometimes it just runs out. People judged you for being a human sponge but water was all you lived off. People just have to suck it up sometimes.

With a sigh, you pushed open the front door and kicked off your shoes.
"You're back inside I hear, Miss (Y/L/N)?" She called without so much as a glance in my direction from the kitchen.
"Yep." Your dress swayed back and forth as you darted towards the basement, the doll still face down in your palm. You swung the door open and closed it behind you so you were submerged in darkness.

You felt your way down the familiar staircase and were greeted by a grey sheet of cloth illuminated by a bronze gas lamp hanging from a steel pole implanted in the ground. You pulled the sheet across your body and peeked your head round. With a flick of your wrist you shot a squirt of water at the head of the figure loomed over a long, dirty wooden table.
"Gah!"
"Headshot." You grinned and pretended to fire a gun. With a chuckle Enoch set down his tools and wiped his manky hands on his even mankier apron. You walked over to him. "Hey Curls."
"How you doing?" He kissed you on the head.
"Not bad, not bad.,'' you held out the doll to him, ''I need you to try fix this though.''
He raised his eyebrows. "Yours?"
"No!", you gasped, "It's Claire's."
He smirked as you glared, "Sure."
"Anyway, do you reckon you can do anything to fix it?"
"I can do more than that." He gazed at you as he swiftly pulled you in for kiss. Your eyes bugged before they melted closed as your hands found their way to rest on his jaw. 33 consistent years of this and you still couldn't get enough. You'd known Enoch your whole time in this loop. You'd been with him when he'd gone through hardship and he'd been with you for the same.

He lifted you onto the table so you were perched on the edge. To steady yourself you placed a hand on the table, the doll and many other pieces dropped to the floor. The world was spinning as Enoch's hands wandered down your back and yours played with the curls at the nape of his neck.

The world steadied as a scalpel clattered to be ground. With a gasp you both turned to the cloth hanging from the ceiling, where a wide-eyed, blushing and stuttering Claire was standing.
"I... em," she muttered. You jumped off the table. "Is my doll fixed?"
Enoch straightened his jumper. "Uhh... yeah nearly."
You walked over to her, "I'll bring it to you when it's fixed." You smiled, as she turned quickly on her heel and sprinted up the stairs, slamming the door behind her.
"Continue?"
You turned and raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Fix the doll, Enoch."
He grunted and turned to the table as you pulled a glass of water over to the armchair beside the shelves of jars. You swung your legs over the arm of the chair, a small smile playing on your chapped lips, and glanced at Enoch as he set to work.
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Update!!
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