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heliads · 3 years

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Disappearance of a Dreamer

There’s a young girl who visits Neverland in her dreams, who comes all the time until she mysteriously vanishes one dark night. Pan doesn’t know what to think of it, until a familiar girl shows up to Neverland years later in the company of pirates.

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Trees rustle gently overhead, small slips of emerald waving in the wind. The night is just beginning to cast aside the day, the moon taking its place on the horizon. Neverland is a glorious place during the day, but come nightfall, it seems to double in magic, double in splendor. It is home, home for so many, and you can feel it especially so right now.

Pan stands, watching the crackling bonfire. The Lost Boys are beginning their usual revelry, cloaks flying around them as they run and jump in a chaotic mess of racing hearts and beating heels. It’s a disorderly, confused mess, and it’s everything you could ever want. Yet there’s something pulling Pan away, something that causes him to slip away into the forest and out of view of the other Lost Boys.

He wanders for a moment before the feeling sharpens. He senses the new presence before he hears the sharp crack of a twig underfoot, and he turns around with deliberate ease. He’s lived long enough to outgrow startled reactions, and anyways, fright is something utterly unbecoming of the King of Neverland. Besides, when he turns around, he is not faced with a pirate or an Evil Queen. Instead, standing before him is a young girl, maybe twelve. She doesn’t seem truly present, though- there’s a faint mist hovering around her, like she’s being seen through a dusty window. Not quite here, but not quite there either. She’s seeing him through the in-between of sleep, dreaming up the shores of Neverland like many others before her.

Pan smiles at the girl. “My name is Pan, Peter Pan.” The girl watches him through wide eyes. “I’m Y/N.” Pan nods slowly. “Do you know where you are, Y/N?” The girl turns in a slow circle, eyes raking over the tall stands of trees and the shadows of night. “I’m in a forest, I think.” Pan follows her gaze over the drifting horizon of green. “You’re in Neverland. It’s an island in the middle of the sea where you never have to grow old.” The girl looks back at him. “Never?” Pan shakes his head. “Not if you don’t want to. Do you think you’ve been here before?” The girl frowns. “I don’t think so. I think I’d remember.”

The roar of laughter and talk from the Lost Boys’ campfire draws the girl’s attention, and she turns to Pan as if waiting for approval. He motions towards the fire. “Go ahead. They won’t hurt you.” The girl beams at him, then races away on footsteps too light to be real. This Y/N isn’t the first dreamer to find themselves in the wooded glens of Neverland, nor will she be the last. She’s the first one in a while, though- as time passes, fewer and fewer children hear about Neverland, and their minds never attempt the journey.

Pan’s not surprised that this girl made the trip, though. She has this look in her eyes, a wisdom too aged for a girl of her youth. She looks like she’s lived a thousand lives, sat through a thousand sunsets. She’s not magical, certainly, but she does remind Pan of himself, of the child he’d been long ago. Pan’s technically still a child, could never be anything but, though he does tend to stay at around sixteen or seventeen. Makes things a lot easier when your legs are long enough to run for great distances without stopping.

The girl disappears later, when the dawn is just beginning to encroach upon the island. All dreamers have to wake up eventually, although the girl shows up a few nights later. She ends up becoming a regular fixture on the island, in fact. There’s something about her, some innate sense of curiosity and vindictive challenge that makes you want to start a race or embark on an adventure towards the darkest of caves and sunniest of shores. She could be a Lost Boy herself if she wanted to, if she ever discovered how to find her way to Neverland outside of her dreams.

Pan’s come to accept her as just another facet of the island until one night, when the stars are hung over with clouds and the island is shuttered up in darkness. The girl is later than usual, so he had assumed that she wouldn’t be coming that night until he heard a shout from behind him. When Pan had found her, the girl was standing before him as usual, although his eyes still widened imperceptibly at the sight of her. She looked far more vivid than ever before- if it weren’t for the slight traces of fog clinging to the edges of her clothes, Pan would have thought that she were actually standing before him instead of still in a dream.

What’s more, her eyes are alight with panic. Pan reaches out a hand as if to steady her, and he’s surprised when his fingers find traction with her shoulder. Dreamers shouldn’t feel so solid, but he can feel muscle and bone right under his fingers. “What’s wrong?” The girl just shakes her head. “Something is about to happen. I need your help. I need you to-” And then she’s cut off, and a slight cry escapes from her lips before she disappears entirely. She’s gone in the blink of an eye, as if she’d simply woken up unexpectedly, yet Pan still stares at the place where she’d been for a long time.

He has no way to find her in reality, no idea where she could possibly be, and so Pan can do nothing except wait for her to return. She does not show up again, not that night or even that week. It’s as if she had forgotten the way back to Neverland. By the end of the first year, Pan’s thoughts drift to her once every week or so, concerned that she might have been hurt. By the second year, he only thinks of her once or twice. By the third and fourth years, her face only appears in his head when he hears a name that sounds somewhat like hers. By the fifth year, he did not think of her at all, except once every now and then he would be filled with this feeling that something had gone wrong, that somewhere in the world there was someone in trouble.

It is day once more, those last few golden hours of afternoon before dusk crept in on the island with its sweltering fingers. Pan’s pacing back and forth listlessly. There’s a ship of pirates just arriving in the bay, and although they’ve been flying the white flag of surrender ever since they came in sight of Neverland, he’s still hesitant to trust them. There’s a strange discomfort of having enemies on his island- they almost feel like ants crawling back and forth on his skin. For every minute that the pirates remain on Neverland, Pan wants nothing more than to swat them all away. However, he can’t deny that he’s curious as to why any pirate would want something to do with the Lost Boys, and so they’re allowed to stay. For now, at least. Their chances of hospitality decrease by the hour.

After about fifteen minutes, Pan signals to Felix, and the rest of the Lost Boys disappear into the forest. Pan’s scarred second-in-command stays by his side, and they watch as the pirates begin to lope into the clearing. The captain is the first of the men to see Pan, and he comes to a halt. The rest of the pirates clump up behind him, pulling cutlasses and pistols out of their belts to show that they’re not to be messed with. Pan raises an eyebrow. “I hope that’s not meant to intimidate me, because you’re doing a poor job of it. What are pirates doing on my island?”

The captain shuffles forward, spits onto the dusty ground. “We’ve been sent to investigate. We’ve heard rumors of a power source on the island, and we’re meant to see if it’s worth our time.” Pan eyes the captain coolly. “And why should I let you take another step?” The captain grins toothily and pulls out a metal seal from his pocket. Even from this distance, Pan can see that it’s emblazoned with the sign of the Evil Queen. He laughs. “You’ve been sent by Regina? Fascinating. How long do you think you have until she kills you all for knowing too much?”

The pirates stir restlessly amongst themselves. Evidently they’ve been sharing Pan’s doubts for a while. In this sudden flurry of movement, the ranks of pirates shift and Pan catches sight of a new figure, one that was previously hidden by the captain. They seem younger than the others, maybe about Pan’s age. Then the young pirate turns to face Pan once more, and he stares.

He knows this girl. No, he had known this girl. Surely it couldn’t be her, surely that one girl who kept dreaming her way to his island wouldn’t have grown up into a pirate of all things, and a pirate who stares at him as if he’s a stranger. Yet she’s got that same look in her eye that Pan remembers from all those years ago, and she looks the same, albeit years older. The worst thing about her is that she glances at the island and even at Pan himself as if she’s never seen any of it before.

The captain is speaking to Pan again, and he forces himself to snap out of it. Idly, Pan gestures for the captain to go on his way. Let him try to find Regina’s ‘power source’- there’s no chance he could make it to Skull Rock, and even if he did, he would have no idea what to do with it. The pirates will just end up chasing their tails for hours, and give up after a while. Pan has yet to meet a pirate with enough discipline to stay at something once it fails them, although if he were to bet on an exception, it would probably be the girl now walking away from him alongside the other pirates.

Once the pirates are gone, Pan turns to Felix with an expression bordering on paranoia. “Did you see that girl? You know, the one with the other pirates. Behind the captain.” Felix nods slowly. “She didn’t say much. Kept looking around.” Pan stares at the place in the dusty ground where she’d just stood, where the prints of her boots still mar the soil. “Do you remember that girl who used to visit the island? Y/N or something, came around all the time until she stopped out of the blue?”

Felix’s eyes widen. “You think that’s the same girl.” Pan nods. “It doesn’t make any sense, but they look too similar for it to be a coincidence.” Felix contemplates this. “But she looked at you, us, even the island like she’d never seen it before. Any dreamer, even one that hadn’t been here in a while, would still have some sense of recognition.” Pan tilts his head in acknowledgment. “That’s the problem. It has to be her, but something must have happened to make her forget everything.”

You methodically sharpen the twin knife blades that hang at your belt, shine them until they’re practically mirrors. The guffaws and hearty talk of the pirates swells around you, but you pay it no mind. Even if you wanted to, you find you can’t focus on them. There’s something about this place that unsettles you. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost say it felt familiar, but that couldn’t be possible. You grew up in the Enchanted Forest, and the only times you’d left the many villages behind were to exchange it for the rocking of your father’s ship. He was the captain, after all, and so you were dragged along on any and all voyages. It’s not like it was so bad, though, you’d been able to see many new places. However, none of them ever called to you the way that Neverland does.

Once the sky fades away to the blackness of night, you find yourself slipping away from the pirates’ camp. You couldn't sleep if you tried, so you might as well explore the island. Maybe you’ll find something that explains this strange familiarity burning away in your heart. As you walk, you find your feet intuitively guiding you between the trees and across the island, as if walking down an invisible path. Before long, you find yourself at a cliff looking out over the water’s edge. You’re not sure how you managed to get here, but somehow it must have been your best destination.

You lean against a nearby tree, watching the light of the stars reflect against the waves. It’s peaceful, quiet, feels like home even though it shouldn’t. You hope your father and his men can find the power source soon, because with every second you spend on this island your mind practically tears itself apart trying to find the lost connection between yourself and this eerily familiar ground.

There’s a quiet sound behind you and you whirl around, knife already in hand, to face a boy emerging from the trees. He has light brown hair and striking green eyes, which flicker between you and your weapon. “Put down the blade, I don’t mean you any harm.” Pan says, for of course it is him that has found you. After a moment’s hesitation, you lower your arm, although you refuse to slide the knife back into its sheath. You’ve heard the stories of Peter Pan, and even if he has enough magic to wipe out this entire island you’d rather have a chance to fight before you die.

“It’s a nice view, isn’t it?” Pan gestures to the ocean rolling deep from the shores. You turn back to the waves, to the cliff falling away before you. “It is, although I have a feeling you didn’t just come here to discuss the merits of a pretty landscape.” Pan chuckles. “You’d be right about that. I’m here to ask a question instead, one that I was hoping you wouldn’t tell the others. Although I have a feeling that you won’t want to speak a word of this to them.” You raise an eyebrow. “And what question could possibly be so important that I would keep it from my crew?”

Pan’s eyes flash in the light of the moon. “You’ve been here before. Am I wrong? You’ve been here before, and you know it, but you can’t figure out why everything seems so familiar if you can’t remember anything about it.” The knife darts up again. “How did you know that?” Pan idly pushes your blade away from his throat with a single finger. “You seem familiar. I just can’t figure out why you can’t remember being here.” You turn away from him, back towards the cliffs. “Strange things happen around here. I’d be surprised if you think everything that happens on Neverland deserves an explanation.”

Pan walks to stand beside you. “What things happen on Neverland that would be so confusing?” You jerk your chin towards the smaller island off the coast of Neverland’s bay, the one shaped like a skull with some sort of golden light emanating from the empty stone eye sockets. “You’re willing to let my father prance about the island in search of the power source when it’s right there to be seen. You’re hiding something, or else you’d have told him about it directly, but you also feel confident that it won’t be discovered, or you would never have allowed our ship to approach the island. What’s on that rock?”

Pan’s eyebrows raise. “You’re perceptive for a pirate. I’m afraid I can’t tell you what’s there, not yet. Not until I figure out what you’re hiding first.” Your eyes drift over the golden light spilling out from the skull. “An hourglass.” You didn’t realize you’d spoken until Pan turns to stare at you. That’s the first signal that something is wrong- every moment before this, Pan has been sure to hide his true emotions. Now, his face is warring between satisfaction and shock, like he’s stunned that you would know about the hourglass, but he’s not entirely upset that you do.

“How do you know about that?” Pan asks, and you shrug. “I have no idea. The thought just came to me. I think I knew it before, but I don’t know how.” Pan’s eyeing you with an intrigued expression, as if trying to unpiece your memory, layer by layer. “Have you ever met Regina in person? During the deal that sent you here, or before that?” You shake your head. “What, you think she cast a spell on me or something? No, that was all my father, and even if it wasn’t, I’m not important enough to warrant a mind wipe.” You chuckle to yourself. “We’re just the middlemen she can send out for information. Maybe Regina’s the Evil Queen, but her real power is delegating.”

You look up and realize that Pan’s eyes are still on you. You feel a slight heat rise in your cheeks, and do your best to push it away, but it lingers despite your best efforts. Your voice turns quiet. “Have I been here before? I’ve never felt so tied to a place before. It feels like-” Pan cuts you off. “It feels like home.” You nod. “Exactly.” A cold wind blows across you, and you pull your arms close to your chest, trying to stay warm. Your movement must have shifted the neckline of your shirt slightly, because Pan suddenly steps away from you to frown at your back. “What’s this?”

You realize what he’s looking at and duck away hurriedly, but it’s no use. He’s already seen it, and he’s already reached out a hand to hold your shoulder in place. He steps behind you, and you feel his finger lightly tracing the beginning of a scar on your back. It’s long, far longer than he thinks, and curls around your throat before disappearing down the back of your shirt. Pan’s fingers are cold against your skin, and you shiver slightly. His hands pause. “Where did you get this scar?” You try to turn away from him, but he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you still. Your eyes meet his, and you glance to the side. “It’s nothing. Just some cut that wouldn’t heal.”

Pan shakes his head. “That would have been a deep cut. It could have killed you.” You raise an eyebrow. “But I’m still here, aren’t I? Anyways, I wasn’t sure that the wellbeing of a pirate mattered so much to a Lost Boy.” Pan’s jaw clenches slightly. “You’re still on my island, that means that I should know whether or not you could be hurt again.” Your calm facade flickers slightly, and you can tell that Pan notices, so you feel immensely grateful at a sudden noise echoing from the trees.

You instinctively turn towards the sound of loud snores coming from the pirate camp. “I’d better go.” You take advantage of the broken moment to slip out of Pan’s arms still encircling you, and start to walk away, but then turn back to Pan and speak one last time as a goodbye. “And Pan? I heard your flute earlier. It was good.” You’ve disappeared into the forest before Pan has time to react, although you hear him trying to catch up to you as you vanish into the night.

Peter doesn’t know what to do. It’s Y/N, no doubt of that. And he’s certain now that she belongs to the island, that she keeps remembering parts of her life here. Why else would she know about Skull Rock? Why else would she be able to hear the flute? He had tried to find her again after she had mentioned the flute, but she had already managed to lose him among the trees before he could make her stay. He supposes that’s another piece of evidence that she’s still a Lost Girl at heart- even after years of being away, she traverses the island like she never left.

There’s another thing that’s different about her, other than the lost memory or even the fact that she’s suddenly just as old as he is. There’s the scar, carefully hidden away. She’d tried to hide it when he first caught sight of it, tried to explain it away as nothing, but he’d seen it. From his brief glimpse, Peter had seen a jagged cut, like a blade, that seemed to run deep through the skin. There’s a sudden rush of anger that burns through him at the thought of someone hurting her, of someone quite literally stabbing her in the back. He’s not sure why this makes him so angry- the damage is already done, there’s nothing he can do to fix it, but he still doesn’t want to see Y/N hurt.

The pirates stay for another couple of days. Y/N still walks away from the pirate camp at night, sometimes to that same cliff or sometimes to wander amongst the trees. Peter’s not sure if she’s doing it intentionally, because sometimes she looks up, startled, as if she hadn’t expected to find herself moving so surely through the island. Peter visits her from time to time, and they talk quietly. He makes sure to avoid the topic of the scar, and Y/N does not bring it up.

On the fourth or fifth day, the pirate captain and his men storm into the same clearing where they’d first met. Peter looks up, unconcerned, though the pirate captain seems enraged. Y/N lingers in the crowd, a wary expression on her face. The captain strides up to Peter. “Where is the power source?” Peter spreads his hands. “If you can’t find it, that means it must not exist.” The captain glares. “I know what you’re hiding, Pan. There’s nothing you can do.”

Peter sighs. “If it makes any difference to you, there was no way that you would ever find it in the first place. I mean, what do we always say? Peter Pan never fails. You never had a chance.” The captain scowls, and seems about to draw his sword to run the Lost Boy through when Y/N steps from the group of pirates, a troubled look on her face. Peter’s eyes dart to her, but she seems distracted. “What did you say?” The captain turns now, sees his daughter standing alone. “Go back with the others, Y/N. This doesn’t concern you.”

Y/N brushes away his comment. “I’m not talking to you. What did you say earlier?” Peter straightens. “Peter Pan never fails?” Y/N nods. “I’ve heard that before. I’ve heard you say it.” For some reason, the pirate captain seems uneasy, almost nervous. “No, you haven’t. You’ve never been to Neverland before.” Y/N shakes her head. “That’s not true. I’ve seen this island before, and I’ve said that very phrase myself.” The captain turns away from Peter, walks up to Y/N. He begins to pull her back to the others. “Stay quiet. You know the rules.” But Y/N shakes off his hand.

“You know I’ve been here, and you’re trying to make me forget.” She stares at him suddenly. “You were the one to wipe my memory. You’re the reason I can’t remember Neverland.” The captain’s gaze turns stormy. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Y/N laughs suddenly, the sound clear and bright. “But I do. I kept visiting Neverland, and you had a problem with it, even though it was only in my dreams. You tried to stop me from coming, and when all else failed, you-”

Peter realizes what she’s saying now, and his pulse starts to thunder in his veins. Y/N continues speaking. “You stabbed me. You almost killed me that night, but it didn’t matter. I was injured beyond repair so you went to Regina, who healed me and took my memories. You wanted her employment, and you wanted me to be a quiet little seaman who would stop fighting you all the time. You were willing to injure me to the point where I almost died, and it never troubled you once.”

She rips her arm away from her father and walks to stand next to Peter. Suddenly, he feels more powerful than he’s ever felt before. Something about the way she’s chosen him over everything makes Peter feel incredible. The captain looks at her with scorn. “If that’s what you want, be my guest. Stay on this island, give up your future. We’ll have everything soon enough, and you’ll be dead.” Y/N stiffens beside him, and Peter cuts a glare to the captain. “No, I think you’ll be the dead one.”

Peter signals slightly with his hands and the Lost Boys come pouring out of the woods to surround the pirates, forcing them back to the ship. In the midst of the commotion, Y/N turns to Peter, a slight smile on her face. “Thank you. For getting rid of him. For helping me remember.” Peter lets a quiet wave of happiness roll over him. “If it means you get to stay with me, I’d rid the seas of a thousand of them.” Y/N reaches over, wrapping her hand around his. Peter watches as the pirate ship hurriedly departs the bay, then looks back to Y/N once more. She has finally returned to him, and at last they don’t have to worry about being separated.

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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Another addition to the Peter Pan AU concept I’ve done some stuff for...this time with Wendy!Carewyn as a ten-year-old, when she first met the shadow belonging to the Boy Who Never Grew Up, Orion Amari.

It all started when back in Neverland, Orion was called out to a private meeting with a pirate solely called Jack, who deliberately kept the meeting quiet from both the Captain he served and the rest of his pirate crew. He was the youngest of Captain Hook’s crewmembers, and yet still far too much of an adult for Orion to ever take into his ranks -- but it was what the pirate requested that so intrigued the eternal 12-½-year old. It seemed that even though Neverland had done its work and made Jack forget just about all of his previous life, including his real name, there was someone outside of Neverland who Jack did still remember...and that person was someone he now implored Orion to protect.

“Her name is Wyn. Or, at least, that’s the name I have...I feel like there was more to that name, once. The rest of the crew calls her ‘Winnie’ sometimes, but I don’t think that’s fully it either. Regardless...I know Hook wants to capture her, like he did me, and I...I don’t want her here, with him. I don’t want her to become a pirate. But I don’t know where she is, except that she’s in London. And as long as I’m stuck with Hook, I...I can’t protect her. So I’m asking you to find her first. She’s younger than me -- much younger, with ginger hair -- small and sweet as a cherub. She’s brave and sharp and she sings like a bird. She’d fit right in with your sort -- no one would have any idea she has anything to do with me. Just...spirit her away, like Hook did me. Take her with you, and keep her safe here, in Neverland. She doesn’t need to know I’m here, or even why you took her, just...just keep her away from Hook. Please.”

Orion cocked his eyebrows.

“And what will you give me in return?”

The pirate called Jack looked lost for words. His hollowed-out blue eyes -- so like Captain Hook’s and skull-like, even upon such a pale, handsome face -- rippled with desperation.

“Anything,” he whispered. “Anything.”

Orion’s black eyes grew a little smaller, examining the pirate critically. He’d never heard anyone, let alone a pirate, express that amount of caring about another person before. He looked after his Lost Kids, of course, so long as they chose to not grow up -- led them on adventures and told them what to do...but not even the fairies who had first brought him to Neverland ever expressed such...well, selflessness, before. It intrigued Orion enough to decide that maybe he would look out for this “Wyn” -- maybe she could be something useful, if Hook had such interest in her. And if she were still a child, then maybe she’d make a decent Lost Kid.

Orion flew around London off-and-on for about an Earth year (which felt more like a week or so, in Neverland), keeping an eye open for this girl called Wyn. It was the ginger hair that helped, as one day a mane of ginger hair caught his eye, and he followed it home to an entire ginger-haired family -- a poor clan called the Weasleys.

The mane of ginger hair Orion had seen belonged to the eldest of the Weasley children, a twelve-year-old named Bill, who had just finished up with his job as a newsboy, making deliveries for a late-night newspaper route. After he bounced his infant sister Ginny up and down in his lap for a while to make her stop fussing, he immediately set about telling his younger brothers -- Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron -- all about his (in Orion’s opinion) perfectly boring day. Orion took stock around the room and, after seeing nothing but boys, was about ready to give up and look somewhere else when Bill asked his brothers about where someone named “Carey” was. The second-eldest brother Charlie responded with a mischievous smile.

“Just give a listen, and you'll know.”

And when everyone quieted, Orion likewise saw what Charlie meant. A voice was singing from somewhere upstairs -- a song that Orion had never heard, and yet contained a word he never would’ve ever thought he’d hear in London --

“Neverland.”

Immediately interested, Orion flew up toward the upstairs window, which had been left ajar. Somewhere in the next room, he heard the little bird-like voice singing, only being able to make out some select words.

“When there’s a smile in your heart...there’s no better time to start...”

The voice was moving down the hall. Orion felt the urge to try to sneak inside the house, but the girl’s singing being interrupted by a woman’s more maternal speaking voice made Orion falter, hiding just out of sight beside the window. It was Mrs. Weasley, Bill’s mother, telling the girl -- Carewyn -- to go ahead and leave the rest of the mending for tomorrow, since it was almost time for supper.

Carewyn, Orion realized as he heard the little girl dash away down the stairs. The pirate called Jack had said there was more to the name he remembered, once. “Wyn” had to have once been “Carewyn.”

Unfortunately for Orion, although he himself was hidden beside the window, his shadow, cast in the light of the streetlamps down onto the window ledge, was not -- and Mrs. Weasley, startled at what looked like something peeking into their window, immediately rushed over and shut it. Orion, alarmed himself at the abrupt slamming of the window, tore off into the night -- leaving his shadow trapped between the closed window and the sill.

It wasn’t until that evening, when Carewyn, Charlie, and Bill were getting ready for bed that Carewyn caught an odd squeaking sound coming from the window of the bedroom she shared with Bill and Charlie. It was, as it turned out, Orion’s shadow, which -- after Mrs. Weasley had left -- had started contorting and writhing in an attempt to escape from its place trapped under the windowpane. Upon finding the window locked for some strange reason, Carewyn enlisted Bill’s help in undoing the latch -- as soon as the shadow was free, he catapulted around the room, flying all over the walls with reckless abandon and stumbling over the shadow of everything in the room, even slapping the walls as if looking for something. Charlie and Bill both tried to catch it before the noise it made could alert their parents or younger siblings -- Charlie finally managed to snag his ankle when he jumped up high enough on his bed and yanked the shadow down with all of his strength so that Bill could grab onto him too. Carewyn, who’d refrained from trying to grab the shadow largely out of the desire not to hurt it, instead tried to reassure him.

“It’s terrified, can’t you see that?” she cried at Charlie and Bill at one point. “Why, a shadow isn’t meant to be completely alone -- and in a house full of strangers, no less!”

“It was stuck in our window, Carey,” said Charlie rather dryly. “I reckon we’re past being ‘strangers.’”

“Well, I’ve certainly never seen him before, nor the person he belongs to!” huffed Carewyn.

Despite Carewyn’s instinct to coddle him, the Shadow Without an Owner was indeed too wild to be left to its own devices. Throughout that night and into the next morning, the shadow kept darting around the room, crashing into different shadows that in turn made the objects attached to them wobble or even fall over. At one point he even knocked over and almost broke the old table lamp by the armchair. It made all three children worry that the shadow was going to get them in a lot of trouble, when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley found it -- but at the same time, all three of them weren’t sure if they wanted to share him with the two adults in the house. The shadow seemed incredibly reluctant to be seen, disappearing completely from view whenever Mr. or Mrs. Weasley popped up.

“He’s afraid of them,” said Carewyn, her voice full of empathy and concern.

Bill tried to offer the shadow a reassuring smile. “Aw, now, you really don’t have to be...Mum and Dad are great! I’m sure they’d be happy to help you, if you -- ”

But the Shadow Without an Owner stubbornly crossed his arms and settled himself down on top of the shadow of Charlie’s headboard with his legs and arms both crossed. He was not going to accept help from any grown-ups.

It was soon decided that Carewyn would look after the shadow while Bill was on his newsboy route and Charlie was at the canning factory. Since Mr. Weasley would be at work and Mrs. Weasley would be largely kept busy with two-year-old Ron and one-year-old Ginny, it was generally Percy and Carewyn’s responsibility to look after Fred and George and help Mrs. Weasley with the chores. And since Carewyn knew there was a lot of mending still to do, she decided she could take all of it upstairs and work on it in her, Charlie, and Bill’s room so that she could keep an eye on the Shadow Without an Owner.

The shadow -- who Carewyn had started just calling “Shadow,” since she didn’t know its owner’s name -- was quite restless, being stuck in one room the whole day. It kept skipping across the tiny bedroom, fluttering from the windowsill to the wall and back. It was peculiar to Carewyn that this shadow seemed to have no sense of gravity -- she had heard plenty of stories from her mother about an island where people could fly with a single thought, but she was sensible enough of a child to presume they were only stories, meant to cheer people up where they were sad.

Eventually Carewyn felt enough pity for the restlessly fidgeting Shadow that she offered to sing him a song or two, to help pass the time.

“I like to sing whenever I’m doing my chores for Mrs. Weasley,” she explained. “I don’t know if you’ll like it, but...maybe it might cheer you up, since you’re stuck inside?”

To her surprise, Shadow seemed immediately interested. He skipped over the shadows of all three of the children’s beds over to the shadow of the armchair next to her. It hovered on the wall over the chair for a moment before it flopped down onto its stomach on top of the armchair’s shadow, its focus down toward her.

Smiling despite herself, Carewyn started to sing for Shadow.

“Think of a wonderful thought -- any merry little thought... Think of Christmas -- think of snow -- Think of sleigh bells...off you go, Like reindeer in the sky... You can fly! You can fly! You can fly!”

Shadow seemed captivated. He actually crossed his translucent arms and leaned his head down on them to listen, his feet absently kicking behind him, while Carewyn sang as she sewed. When Carewyn was done with one song, she’d start another, and Shadow would listen to all of them. The ones he seemed to like best, though, were the ones her mother Lane had taught her and Jacob, so long ago. The ones about that beautiful, make-believe land that had once captivated her and Jacob’s dreams.

Carewyn put down the blanket she’d finished patching up to look up at Shadow. His hands were clasped together as he watched her. Although he had no eyes or expression, Carewyn sensed he was considering her carefully.

“You like the songs about Neverland, don’t you?” she asked him at last.

Shadow nodded.

“My mum taught them to me,” Carewyn explained. “She used to sing them for my brother Jacob and me, when we were little...and then Jacob used to sing them for me, after Mum...”

The memory of her mother sick in the hospital, and of Jacob squeezing her tight in his shaking arms in a vain attempt to shield her from her grief, made Carewyn’s heart hurt. She brushed the end of her sentence away and put on her bravest face.

“Bill and Charlie like them too,” she said pleasantly. “Percy, Fred and George too, though Percy tries to act like they’re silly, sometimes. And Fred and George are kind of like you -- they’re more the sorts to want to get into mischief than just stay quietly indoors.”

She giggled behind her hand.

“Ginny likes them too... though I reckon it’s just because she likes attention, period, at the moment -- being a baby.”

Shadow seemed a little restless again. Carewyn surmised that he was losing interest -- but, she supposed, considering he couldn’t properly talk, conversations were bound to be less engaging for him.

“Mum had this pretty lullaby she used to sing for Jacob and me,” she offered. “She said she forgot the real words a long time ago, but the melody stayed with her enough that she sang it anyway. Do you want to hear it?”

Shadow’s head popped up, interested again, and he nodded. Carewyn took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Maybe if she dreamed hard enough, she could hear her mother’s voice, singing it too...

“Once upon a time and long ago, I heard someone singing soft and low. Now, when day is done and night is near, I recall a song I used to hear -- ‘My child, my very own, Don't be afraid -- you're not alone... Sleep until the dawn, for all is well.’ Long ago, this song was sung to me... Now it's just a distant melody, Somewhere from the past I used to know, Once upon a time and long ago...”

Shadow actually seemed to settle down, leaning his head down on his folded arms again. When she was finished, he stayed still for a long time -- so long, in fact, that she thought maybe he’d fallen asleep. After several minutes, though, Carewyn realized that Shadow was actually hugging himself tighter, hiding his face under his arms.

“Shadow?” said Carewyn, concerned.

Shadow raised his head, looking right at her. Once again Carewyn got the feeling he was examining her closely. Then, hovering weightlessly down off the armchair, it settled itself down on the wall behind her beside her shadow, crossing his legs and holding his own hands.

Carewyn tilted her head, looking over the shadow with pity in her eyes.

“...You feel lonely,” she murmured, “don’t you?”

Shadow didn’t answer. His focus was down on his clasped hands.

Taking the lack of response as good enough of one, Carewyn adjusted her knees under her, smoothing out the skirt of her one nice dress, and looked up at the ceiling.

“It’s okay if you do,” she said softly. “Everybody feels lonely sometimes. And...well, I s’pose being without your person must be very sad. I’ve never been without my shadow.”

Her eyes grew a little smaller and sadder.

“But...I do know what missing someone feels like...it feels awful.”

Shadow didn’t move. Considering her own shadow on the wall and then Shadow carefully, Carewyn tentatively brought a hand out so that her shadow’s hand ended up on top of Shadow’s clasped hands in his lap.

Shadow immediately bolted up off the ground in alarm, hovering in mid-air over her. It felt like he was staring. Carewyn likewise tensed up when he quickly retreated.

“I’m sorry!” she said at once. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Shadow put his hands on his hips, almost looking faintly offended by the suggestion. He wasn’t frightened. Startled, maybe, but not frightened.

Carewyn felt herself smiling wryly despite herself. “Well, you did kind of react like a scared cat, just now!”

Shadow’s hands clasped in front of him and he leaned forward, looking down upon the smaller girl with an almost snarky posture.

Carewyn giggled behind her hand again.

“I must wonder, Shadow -- is the person you belonged to as odd as you are?”

Despite the dryness of the question, her eyes betrayed some genuine fondness as she returned to her sewing.

“Tender shepherd, tender shepherd...let me help you count your sheep...”

Somehow Carewyn managed to entertain Shadow that entire day until Bill, Charlie, and Mr. Weasley returned from work that evening. Shadow even managed to stay a bit more subdued afterwards, only knocking over one table before Bill, Charlie, and Carewyn came up to bed for the night. When Mrs. Weasley came into the room to bid them goodnight (and Shadow hid behind the armchair to avoid being seen), she once again latched the window, instructing Bill to leave it closed that night. She hadn’t told Bill about the strange shape she’d seen at the open window the previous night, for fear of frightening him, Charlie and Carewyn -- a decision with some logic behind it, though she regretted it for quite a while afterwards.

Despite Mrs. Weasley’s words, however, Carewyn immediately got up and unlocked the window anyhow.

“Shadow’s owner might come back looking for him!” said Charlie when Bill tried to argue the point.

Carewyn nodded, shooting a look at Shadow, who had settled himself on the windowsill as if waiting.

“Your mum said to keep it closed,” she said stubbornly. “She never said we had to keep it locked.”

And so Shadow waited patiently by the window as the three ginger-haired children slowly fell off to sleep. It was just after midnight that there was movement outside the window again, and the Shadow Without an Owner leapt up seeing his other half -- the Boy Without a Shadow -- on the other side of the glass. Flying beside Orion was a pink-eyed pixie with yellowish-green wings bathed in sparkling gold light.

Orion fixed his shadow with a faintly resigned expression.

“You’re in a right pickle, aren’t you, my shadow?” he murmured.

Shadow’s shoulders fell noticeably as Merula shook her finger at him, her voice a huffy tinkling of bells.

“You’d better not have let anyone see you!” she scolded.

Orion reached out and gave the window a light pull. To his relief, it was unlocked, and he pulled it the rest of the way up so he and Merula could fly inside.

Merula at once set about exploring the room, landing on a pile of folded, patched-up clothes next to a modest stack of old stuffed animals.

“What a dump,” she scoffed.

She gave a light kick to one of the teddy bear’s noses. The kick, however light, nonetheless was enough to bring the teddy bear down on her, making the fairy jingle in frustration.

Orion idly lifted the teddy bear off of her without even looking at her, instead focusing on his shadow. Illuminated once again by the streetlamps outside the Weasley home, Shadow immediately darted further back into the room, hovering just over Carewyn’s bed and pointing frenetically.

"I know,” said Orion. “That would be the ‘Wyn.’ The one who sings like a bird.”

Shadow settled himself down on top of Carewyn’s headboard, looking down at her as she slept.

Orion frowned slightly upon his shadow.

“...You like her, then?” he asked lowly.

Shadow nodded.

Merula crossed her arms huffily, looking down at the girl with active disdain. “Look at her, though! She’s got the wrinkles -- those of knowing solemn things. She’s way too old to take...”

Orion took a few steps forward and considered the sleeping ginger-haired girl in the bed.

She was indeed as small as the pirate called Jack had said -- smaller than her age would suggest, Orion thought. She already had these little wrinkles kissing the corners of her lips, and yet they were a peculiar kind of wrinkles. They weren’t wrinkles of age, per say -- instead there was something almost warm, about them...like the kind of wrinkles a well-loved teddy bear has. It didn’t make her look tired or resigned like so many adults did, but rather oddly resilient. The girl wasn’t smiling in her sleep, and yet she still slept peacefully. Her dreams no doubt weren’t as carefree as Orion would like -- but they were not the dreams of a grown-up, either. There was still some weightlessness there, especially since this family she was with wasn’t even hers. She’d still likely be able to fly...

“...She’ll do,” Orion said at last.

“What?!” said Merula, taken aback.

Orion’s voice was very lackadaisical, but his eye remained on Shadow, who seemed oddly pleased by his decision. He even brought a translucent hand down and -- very tentatively -- patted the top of the girl’s own shadow’s head. It was a gesture that made Merula look at him with bewilderment.

“What are you doing, she’s not some little puppy dog for you to coddle!” she jingled at Shadow irritably.

“Come now, my shadow,” Orion said stridently. “Must work out how to restore our balance, before we set about making our proposition to this ‘Carewyn.’”

Shadow quickly bolted up and away from the sleeping Carewyn, looking almost sheepish. Orion glanced around the room, before his eyes settled on a drawer. Striding over, he opened it and ruffled through its contents until he found a bunch of sewing supplies, including a collection of buttons.

Aha. This might do.

Unfortunately buttons were indeed not what was needed, to properly restore a shadow. Orion tried to work them out several times, to no avail, but since the poor boy knew nothing about how buttons were fixed on to begin with, he couldn’t figure out how he could “button” his shadow to him the way two sides of a shirt could. Orion and Merula also tried several other things in the drawer, like some spare ribbon -- but since he naturally couldn’t tie his shadow securely enough to himself, he was left only with a bar of soap he found by the nearby basin, which he tried to use to stick his shadow on.

After about an half-hour of failures, Orion was starting to get anxious. What if he never got his shadow back on? Would he be stuck without a shadow forever? Would he have to chase after his shadow forever, the way his shadow used to for him? Would his shadow even be able to follow him back to Neverland, if there were no lights that would maintain his form? Would he be trapped here in London forever -- in this house forever?

“Orion?” Merula tinkled uncomfortably.

Orion actually found his eyes welling up with tears, though he tried to force them back.

He didn’t know what to do -- what was he supposed to do...?

A very quiet gasp from the bed caught Orion’s attention. Stiffening like a cat, he shot to his feet, his black eyes very wide.

Sitting up in bed was the little ginger-haired girl called Carewyn. Her eyes were very wide, almond-shaped and china blue -- the same shade, Orion realized, as those of the pirates back in Neverland.

The same shade as Captain Hook’s eyes...

And yet those eyes welled up with so much compassion upon meeting Orion’s.

“Oh,” she whispered, looking from the soap in his hand to up to his face. “Oh, please...please, boy, please don’t cry.”

#peter pan au #hphm #hogwarts mystery #orion amari #carewyn cromwell #my art #au #merula snyde #bill weasley #charlie weasley #molly weasley #jacob cromwell #lane cromwell #my writing

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vanillann · 3 years

Text

5 star conversation (r.p)

one person for more parts so i had to do it!!

reggie peter x gender neutral!reader

word count: 3.2k

5 star conversation masterlist

“This place is so much better!”

Alex was spinning in the center of the hall, the 5-star hotel in Dallas was much better than the last motel we stayed at a few weeks back.

“I’ll be happy to use my own bathroom,” Julie swiped her key card, throwing her head back with it turned green and allowed her in the room.

“Goodnight,” she sang into the hall, not wasting time before shutting the door to pass out on the white fluffy soft bed, as the last performance was a long one with a meet and greet after.

Everyone was exhausted from crazy fans and loud music for the first time in a long time.

“I’ll see everyone in the lobby at 9,” Flynn waited in the hall for everyone to confirm.

“Why don’t you ever yell at Julie and (Y/N) about time?” Luke challenged her, hand on his hip as he looked at her with a pout.

“Because I don’t feel bad throwing them out of bed,” Flynn smiled, turning to her own door and not waiting for Luke’s response.

“Hey!”

“I love you (Y/N),” she yelled over her shoulder, smiling and waving to the boys as she most likely would be out cold too.

“That’s my cue, I’ll see everyone at 9:30 most likely.”

Alex pushed my shoulder lightly, walking past me to his door that was beside mine, the same layout he always did when he stayed at hotels.

We don’t talk about the motel.

“Goodnight (Y/N),” Reggie wrapped his arm around my shoulders, hugging me from behind while one of my hands squeezed his.

“Night,” I clocked out, still not recovered from the night spent under the sheets with the raven-haired boy. He let go, moving to his door across the hall and moving in as if nothing was different.

“Something happened two weeks ago.”

I jumped, I had completely forgotten Reggie and I wasn't the only person in the hall, Luke and Alex giving me little smirks as I stared at my door.

“Nope,” I swallowed, swiping my card and rushing into the room. I could hear Alex and Luke laughed but I didn’t care enough to give a witty remark.

My wits had walked into Reggie's room far away from my side, along with my sanity.

“Most definitely,” I mocked Reggie’s voice, throwing my bag on the queen-size bed, this time all to myself and no smiling Reggie walking me like something the gods had sent down.

“You most definitely ruined my standards.”

I probably sounded crazy talking to myself, pacing the room before I fell backward, staring off at the ceiling. I thought back to the little touches and the smirks that were shared between us in two weeks.

“I hate Luke Patterson.”

I didn’t hate Luke, he was like an older brother, but I did hate him. He pushed me off the diving board before I had my goggles on and now there was chlorine in my eyes.

I lost track of time, everything slowing down the longer I stared up at the ceiling, wishing it was the nasty brown popcorn ceiling from the motel so I knew Reggie was laying beside me.

Why did he have to be perfect?

A light knock on the door brought my attention back to this world, my mind wondering if it was worth it. I was probably Alex looking to talk for a few hours and tease me about Reggie.

I rolled my eyes, rolling off the bed and prancing to the door. Alex would listen if I needed to rant, and that I really needed right now. I didn’t even think, swing the door open to see a black leather jacket-clad back about to walk into the door across from me.

“Reg?”

He swiftly turned around, his cheeks flushed as he looked me over up and down.

“You have your shoes on?”

“Yeah I hadn’t changed yet,” I shrugged, crossing my arms and leaning against the door frame as I waited for his eyes to stop darting around the hall.

“Oh, good?”

I nodded slowly, watching as his shoe tapped against the floor of the hotel hallway. I was about to step back into my room when one of his arms reached out and grabbed my sleeve.

“Are you tired?”

“I mean I guess not? Reggie-”

He gave a small smile, pulling on my sleeve and using his other hand to push my hotel room closed behind me. His face so close to me, his breath running over my cheeks and I felt myself feel like I was on fire.

“I saw this diner on the corner and looked it up. It has one star and-”

“A one-star diner? That could kill us,” I laughed lightly, trying to pull my arm back but his eyes were begging me to hear him out.

“Well I’m already dead and-” his smile was large as his eyes searched mine, both of us probably looking crazy as he stood in the center of the hall.

“I don’t have a jacket Reg,” I did my best to stop myself from going, I didn’t need more of a reason to fall for the perfect bass player. I didn’t have it in me to be heartbroken by him.

“Wear mine,” he let go of my sleeve but I didn’t move as he shrugged his jacket off his shoulder and placed them over my shoulder with a goofy little smile plaster across his lips. The leather was warm, but I suppose that could have been how nervous I was in the current moment.

“I guess we’re getting a late-night snack,” I spoke as happy as I could, screaming at my heart to stop hitting my rib cage.

“Yes!” He made a fist, doing a small happy dance as he skipped down the elegant hall of the fourth floor of the hotel. I smiled, trying to look on the bright side of falling for the sweet boy.

I quickly jogged to reach his side, his little skip in his step was making me feel things I didn’t understand. Maybe that was the scariest thing, not understanding the feelings. I knew my feelings for Reggie, of course, but why did I have to feel like this about Reggie? Why could I have fallen for anyone else in this world? Falling for Reggie meant never falling out, cause you just can’t not adore him. He remembered the little things, like my favorite type of diner or my favorite photo with my friends. He said things that made your heart shore, even if not a soul but you would understand. The number of times he had said “most definitely” with that little smirk to me was making my brain break at this point because everyone saw the little smiles but nobody knew why, and something about that made it more fun.

“You coming?”

I didn’t realize I had stopped walking in the middle of the lobby, I didn’t even remember the elevator ride down. I nodded my head, smiling as he held the door from the hotel for me, his bright smile lit up the dark streets of the city.

The traffic was light and I could see the lights on in the small diner, obviously not busy by the looks of the small parking lot and I was shocked you’d find such a sad diner so close to the fancy hotel we were staying at.

I was walking the closest to the road, Reggie on the other side of me as he spotted the crosswalk. Suddenly I felt him slip behind, his hands on my shoulder for a second and gone the next. He now stood closer to the road, obviously looking ahead and not at me.

“What was that about?”

“I didn’t want something to happen and you fell into traffic, this way it’s me and not you.”

Oh, I hated him so much right now, stop making me love you!

He couldn’t do this stuff and expect me not to fall head over heels, because he looked like that and he spoke like that, and he was perfect. We found the crosswalk, both looking both ways before skipping across it into the small diner parking lot with smiles across both our faces.

Reggie held open the door for me, the small rusty diner was definitely one star by how messy and weird the place felt. The booths had holes in them, the tables had inappropriate drawings in sharpie and the only other person in the place was an older man who was doing something illegal by the way he looked Reggie and me up and down, and a few workers.

“Reg-”

“Trust me, okay?” He pulled at my arm, smiling as he found a booth in the corner of the small diner, and giggled when I pouted at it.

“You can have the corner seat, I know they’re your favorite.”

Why do boys like Reggie have to look and be amazing? It was so hard not to confess everything, but I thought better than to do it in a small one-star diner.

“Can I start y’all with a drink?” The strong southern accent wasn’t uncommon for the state of Texas, I had heard plenty in the crowd during the show.

“A water,” Reggie spoke but I stopped the lady before she wrote it.

“A coke is fine,” the lady nodded, writing coke instead of water, and went back to the back of the diner.

“That was rude,” Reggie pouted as he took the seat across from me, his arms crossed over his chest as his eyes scanned me.

“Never order water from these places, always something bottled that can’t be contaminated,” I pointed to the sink, which was turned on filling a small pan with almost brownish water. Reggie cringed, nodding his head and looking at me.

“You don’t need to die from water too,” I smirked across the table, laughing when Reggie swatted his hand at me jokily.

“You can’t let me live my own death down,” he smiled as he shook his head, smiling when the lady bought out two bottled cokes and a single menu.

“We are cleaning our menus, hope you don’t mind sharing.”

She left us with that, the cokes at the end of the table and a menu in the center. Reggie didn’t move it, opening it and leaning his elbows on the table to read it. His flannel clade arms were nice, something I had grown safe with as he seemed to bring his brand off them.

“How about a burger?”

I zoned back in, smiling when Reggie pointed to a cheap burger at the bottom of the menu with questioning eyes.

“I was thinking more of a hotdog,” I smirked, laughing when he flopped back into his seat before sliding out.

“I’m leaving,” he spoke, my hand reaching out without thinking and grabbing his wrist. I didn’t think much, looking up at him with pleading. His once angry, or what I thought was angry, formed into one of pure bliss. He was sitting on the edge of the seat, our eyes telling our story for us.

“You can’t leave me here,” I broke the tension, smiling when he slid back into the booth across from me and leaned closer to me from his seat.

“Why’s that?”

I thought over my options, did I tell him? Do I tell him I wanna spend the rest of this tour having a sleepover in a motel with him? Do I tell him I’d drink brown water for him?

“What if this diner’s food kills me?” I came up with the idea on the spot, hoping he wouldn’t question me too much on the topic. It wasn’t a lie, it could kill me, the water was brown after all.

“Then you’ll come back to me,” he shrugged as if it was obvious. My heart was definitely fighting my ribs now, trying to jump out and confess everything in this small diner.

“Y’all ready?”

The lady from the earlier harsh voice brought me from my daze, my breath barely coming back and Reggie hurried to find something on the menu for us.

“Some fries and two slices of key lime pie,” he spoke, sliding the menu across the table and winking at the waitress. I felt my heart drop slightly, the woman rolling her eyes but the smallest bit of a smile on her lips.

“Fries and pie?”

“They can solve all the world problems,” Reggie shrugged, his attention back to me as soon as I spoke. My heart fluttered more once I recognized the soft Train song, Marry Me playing through the small diner.

“We don’t have a problem though.”

“We do, we haven’t spoken as much since the motel,” Reggie raised an eyebrow at me like he knew he had caught me red-handed. He was chewing on his bottom lip, waiting for me to say something.

I stopped talking to you because I’m convinced you’re the love of my life.

“Flynn’s had me busy with social media stuff,” which wasn’t a lie. I had officially been handed all social media as Flynn couldn’t do it all anymore, and since I already did the merch it would make sense for me to be in charge of the social media.

“I’m still mad you posted that photo of me,” Reggie pouted, the photo in question was when Alex and Luke drew all over his face in a sharpie while he was sleeping on the floor of the tour bus.

“The fans loved it, it’s been added to many edits,” I smirked, shrugging my shoulder while I looked up at the ceiling of the diner.

“I bet you loved it too,” Reggie leaned back on the table, his face seemed to get closer every time he did. I could smell the cologne running off him, almost making my head spin until I remember I’d been smelling it all-night because of the jacket.

“It’s my lock screen for a reason.”

“Really?” I didn’t say anything, pulling out my phone and proving it. Reggie smiled, asking me to open it to show my home screen. I did just that, putting my fingerprint on the phone to reveal the photo of Alex using my head like a drum set, Julie in the back caught completely off-guard.

“Here,” the fries and the two-piece of pie were placed on the table, the two forks and a bottle of ketchup beside them. I closed my phone, reaching over to pop a fry in my mouth.

“Well aren’t you just the cutest,” Reggie commented, taking his own fire and nibbling on it, looking at me while he did so. I ignored him, looking at my phone that was now ringing beside me. A photo of Luke and I doing finger-guns at the camera flashed across my screen, my eye-rolling into the back of my head as I picked it up.

“Yes?”

“Did you finally run away from us?” I could hear the pout in Luke’s voice as he spoke.

“Yep, I’m halfway to Ohio by now,” I rolled my eyes, reaching for one of the forks but Reggie moved it from my reach.

“You suck,” he spoke, my attention elsewhere as I still wanted a piece of my pie.

“Tell Reggie he sucks too.”

I swallowed roughly, trying my best to keep my voice normal as we spoke.

“What?”

“Neither of you are at the hotel, we thought you two e-roped,” I heard Julie in the back yell “it’s eloped” but I ignored it as I finally got my fork out of Reggie’s hand.

“We’re at the diner on the corner,” I watched Reggie pout once I revealed the location we sat at, waving him off as I took a piece of the pie and shoved it in my mouth.

“That place looks creepy.”

“It is,” I finally rested the phone between my shoulder and head, reaching for another piece when Reggie started moving the pie around the table.

“Weirdos,” I heard him speak, the smirk was screaming through the phone.

“Do you need something?”

“Yes, you both confess-” I rolled my eyes, moving my phone from where it sat, and hung up on Luke. Reggie laughed, watching me place the phone on the table and reach for the pie again. I heard it ring but simply hit the little red button.

“I want my pie Reg,” I pointed my fork in his face, but instead of being a normal person and giving me the pie, he bit down on my fork. I was so shocked at his actions I didn’t even realize he pulled the fork from my hand.

“Did you-”

“Yep, you gave us away so no pie,” he took my fork, letting it sink into the green fluffy pie with a little smirk on his face.

“I totally can’t stand you.”

“Then sit on me-” as soon as Reggie spoke he panicked, trying to take his words back but I was almost on the floor laughing. His cheeks were flushed red, his eyes wide as he looked over my face. He was perfect in the harsh light of the diner, trying his best to fix the words that fell from his lips.

“A way with words I see,” I managed to get out the words in-between giggles. His own laughs were slowly slipping past his apologies, his smile back to normal.

“Always, how do you think I wrote Home is Where my Horse is,” he bit back, him finally letting me take a bit of the whipped cream off the top. For a one-star diner, the place wasn’t horrible, if I didn’t get food poisoning that is.

“Lots of inspiration,” I smiled back, popping another fire in my mouth and laughing when he shrugged.

“Can’t say that I never had a horse.”

“Did you want one?”

“Ever since I was a young Reginald,” he spoke, a fake posh accent with his words. I smiled to myself, a joking plan already forming in my head.

I heard the door of the diner open, the familiar sound of Alex's panicked voice was nice yet frustrating. Luke winked at me, jumping as he slid into the seat beside Reggie, Flynn running to sit beside me.

“I thought you left me,” she latched onto my arm, cozying close to me with a little smile. I laughed at her antics, leaving a small kiss on her head as Julie took the seat beside Luke and Alex took the open one next to Flynn.

“You both ate the food?”

Reggie shrugged, typing something slowly into my phone he had grabbed off the table. Luke tried to speak but Reggie moved and covered the phone from his eyes.

When he finished he locked it, sliding air across the phone and pointing at it. I smiled, putting my fingerprint in my phone, which opened to the notes app.

We got busted, next time don’t tell Luke ;)

I smiled, the zoo unleashed as I read over the words. Maybe we’d been in a one-star motel and diner, but I never felt like the five-star giggles filled the room.

He said next time.

Crap, he said next time.

permanent tag list:

@kittykylax @itstaylorcale @head-over-heart @marvel-rhapsody @accioxtina

julie and the phantoms taglist:

@willex-owns-my-heart @sunsetcurvej @g7aesthetic @who-even-is-galileo

reggie peters taglist:

@miisacore

#reggie julie and the phantoms #reggie x y/n #reggie tag #reggie peters x reader #japt reggie #reggie x reader #reggie peters #julie and the phantoms x reader #jatp x reader

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darksapphire29 · 3 years

Text

Imagine #6

You give Peter the silent treatment while you try to accept the newly discovered truth.

Warnings: silent treatment, mentions of death, stressed Peter (ya know, this is just a recurring theme that can probably be expected in most (if not ALL) my imagines), tiny OOC Pan (but I don’t think it’s that OOC), crying?? Umm... trigger warning for ppl who are still recovering from season 3 and/or season 5?? (I AM)

Peter was scolding Adam for something when you first left your tent.

“You idiot. You never pick dreamshade without gloves. Do you have a d-death...?” He stuttered a little, losing his trail of thought at the sight of you. You looked awful.

Your skin was pale, your eyes lined with a darkness that hinted at a lack of sleep. You stumbled a little as you wandered off into the forest to gather some fruit for breakfast. You didn’t even look at him as you passed, and his stomach dropped.

All but forgetting his annoyance, he walked briskly after you. You weren’t even following any of the trails. He passed the huts and ignored the confused look Felix sent his way. All he could think about was what was wrong with you. Were you ill? Hurt? Did something happen last night? Yesterday? He didn’t know, and was determined to find out.

When he caught sight of your cloak, he ran right up to you. He grabbed your shoulder, and you stopped. You didn’t turn to look at him.

“(Y/n),” he started, walking around your body with a hesitance that caught you off guard. You had honestly expected him to be mad. When he stood in front of you, his eyes filled with concern, you found you couldn’t look at him another second, so you turned your head away from him.

Peter furrowed his brows. You were never the shy type, always standing up for yourself and speaking out against him. It was one of the both impressive and frustrating traits he loved about you.

“Why aren’t you following the trail?” He searched your face, trying to read your eyes. But just as he was about to catch them, you looked away from him. Somehow, the boring new shades of moss by his feet were more interesting than Peter. It was too peculiar for him to leave alone.

“Is something wrong?” He asked again. The (tall/short) girl before him said nothing, all too lost in her thoughts. Was this a game to him? Or did he seriously have no idea? The most obvious answer was that he was mocking you. That he found your anger towards him amusing and silly. But you wouldn’t retaliate. That was what he wanted. Instead, you walked right past him and continued on your way.

Peter felt as if you had dug out his heart and jumped on it. Twice. His confident stance faltered as he watched your back. You were acting so… different. But then again, it was unnervingly familiar. Only, the last time you had acted so demeaned by his presence was almost a hundred winters ago. When his shadow first brought you to Neverland, and you were still jumpy and untrusting from your past life. Why were you suddenly reverting back to your old self?

When you began to fade into the forest, he chased after you. Peter followed you for a while, calling your name and demanding you talk to him.

You didn’t answer his questions, completely disregarding his presence. You wished he would just leave you alone. After everything you had learnt, all the secrets that had been laid before you, you needed to be alone. You needed time to think. And you especially needed Peter to go away. But no, Peter Pan never fails, and he was more than ready to win this game. Only it wasn’t a game, and if he wanted it to be, you weren’t intending to play.

Annoyance clouded Peter’s mind, and he tried so hard not to let you anger him. So hard. But it wasn’t getting any easier.

“(Y/n), come on!” He tried, throwing up his arm and following you deep into the forest. “Where are you even going?” Luckily for the both of you, he was Peter Pan, not some Lost Boy. Because if he wasn’t literally half demon, neither of you would be able to get back.

You really didn’t know where you were going. But all that mattered right then was the distance between you and the boy who’d broken your trust. Although, deep down, you were grateful he had followed you. Otherwise, you would be completely lost.

You didn’t know how to forgive him, and by the sound of it, Peter hadn’t even realised what he’d done. You chuckled. What a narcissist. Of course, he hadn’t thought it would offend you. But you couldn’t approach him about it, or anyone, really. What a girlish thing it was, to be so hurt by such a thing. Secrets like this one were more damaging than any poison or sword. But how could he have known? This was a grown-up sort of thing, and Peter was still only a child.

“(Y/n)!” He shouted again, and you jumped, having forgotten he was even there. “I can literally feel the rage in my blood.” He threatened, but you were unfazed. Nothing could hurt more than—

“Please, don’t make me force you!” His voice cracked a little on the please. Your heart clenched. He was trying to hide his desperation, but you could sense it. You wanted so much to just turn around, hug him, tell him it wasn’t his fault.

But that would be a lie. Because it was his fault. It was entirely his fault. He should have shared all those damned thoughts with you. If only he’d opened his stupid mouth, confessed, revealed everything. Instead, he’d left you to stumble blindly in the dark. But the idiot forgot to take the oil away from the lamp, and now that you’d shed some light on your life, things would never be the same. And it was this senselessness that kept you away from him. Like two magnets of the same pole—it was all Peter’s doing.

But the most disturbing truth? Your very soul threatened to shatter at the very thought. How could he have kept such a thing from you? How could he have been so careless? You tripped on a few sticks and roots as your blood threatened to boil over with rage. Had he even spared your feelings a thought? You shook your head and quickened your pace.

Peter watched you stumble along, your hands clenching and unclenching like you didn’t want him to know they were shaking. He was near you, now, and he reached out for you again. Wanting so badly to touch you again, even for a second. But then you took longer strides, taking him off guard, and his fingers missed you completely. He growled in frustration. He’d had enough.

“Fine.” His tone darkened. Chills ran down your spine, you skin crawling with goosebumps. He had never spoken to you like that before, and it scared you to no end. “But don’t say I didn’t give you a chance!” With that, he appeared right before you, and you collided with his chest. You leapt back almost immediately, like fire to your skin. Meeting his eyes for a second, you found a hint of pain behind them. But it was replaced with frustration before you could blink.

“Why are you ignoring me?” He was so lost. So hurt. You wouldn’t even look him in the eye long enough for him to see the (e/c) in them. That beautiful (e/c) he would so often lose himself in.

Quickly, he reached for your shoulders. His hands rested there, his grip gentle but firm, not wanting you to leave him behind, again. You still didn’t speak. He missed your voice, your laugh, you eyes, your smile. It had probably been an hour, but that was already too long. He clenched his jaw.

“(Y/n), this isn’t a game. Talk to me.” As much as he didn’t want to, he was losing his patience. He spoke through gritted teeth, his hold on you tightening, his eyes set in a nasty glare. His hands were harsh on your skin, and your eyes glistened with an unholy fire. You didn’t move.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Breathing through his nose, veins popping out of his neck, he shook you. Hard. Your hair fell over your face, and your cloak would’ve fallen off if Peter wasn’t holding it there. Tears stung at your eyes as your body was thrown around, your shoulders aching.

“TALK TO ME!!” He screamed, fuming. You nearly broke down at his anger. He stopped, but you didn’t do anything. He had hoped you would yell, scream, cry, shove him off, kick him, slap him, run away, anything! You just shivered a little under his hands, but other than that, you held yourself together. His eyes reddened, almost like he might cry, himself. “Why won’t you just look at me, at LEAST?!” A part of him was begging, but the rest of him was infuriated.

In spite of yourself, you looked up at him. Your eyes were probably swollen, your skin whiter than usual, but you hardly cared. You glared at him so hard you might’ve set him aflame.

“Well then, Pan.” You croaked, a single, hot tear falling from your eye. “I’m looking at you. I’m talking to you. I’m even bloody crying. You’ve won. Now get the hell away from me.”

He stepped back, not meaning to look cocky. He was shocked. He had won, but that wasn’t important. The look on your face was important. That angry tear was important.

“I-I—” he stuttered. What could he do? You were obviously upset with him. But why? What had he done? For a short second, he thought hard about everything he could’ve done wrong.

Nothing came to mind.

“What did I do?” It was an innocent question, but when he finished, you were so pale he feared for your life. It came out so wrong. So demeaning. Ridiculing. It sounded exactly like him, and for once, he really didn’t mean for it to sound like that.

Your usually bright and (e/c) eyes darkened a few shades. He winced.

This was not going to end well.

“What did you do?” You laughed. It wasn’t joyous and contagious like the one he obsessed over. It was maniacal, nearly psychotic. Like his laugh. “Oh, I wonder!”

“(Y/n), please—”

“Oh, no! You don’t get to speak. It’s my turn.” You spat, waving a hand in his face. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Peter was completely taken aback. Fear placed his confusion and he worried for his own sake. So much was happening, now. Who knew what you had discovered?

He had wanted to keep his plans to himself. Everything he was doing, everything he planned to accomplish, he knew you wouldn’t approve. Even to save your own life, his life, everyone’s lives, the whole of Neverland. You would insist on finding a better way until your final breath.

“Kidnapping people? Using some girl? Taking a kid from his family and keeping him against his will?” The colour was quickly returning to your face, but even when you tanned to your normal colour, you continued to redden with every breath. He tried to get a word in, tried to explain himself. But it was no use.

“I can’t believe you, Pan!” He winced again, that familiar pain building up in his chest once more. “What happened to you? Why are you doing this? You used to be fun. You used to really care about everyone.” Your face was wet with tears, tears that wouldn’t stop, and Peter wanted nothing more than to hold you.

He remembered those days. The days where he and the Lost would just play around and joke and tease. When nothing mattered but you and him and Neverland.

But then, he remembered the day he returned to Skull Rock. The day he was reminded of his incoming doom. He knew what was coming. He knew it had to be done.

“(Y/n), please listen to me.” He started, but you weren’t finished.

“But you wanna know why I’m upset?” Peter didn’t say anything, he didn’t even nod. You were suddenly calm, and it scared him more than your angered screams.

“You told Felix you were—” A broken sob hacked at your throat, and you collapsed into Peter’s chest. Pride be damned, you were sick of this. Sick of being angry and scared and alone. You needed Peter, and when he wrapped his arms around you, that was it. You were finished. Your eyes red. Yours cheeks soaked. Your hands shaking. Your hair in more of a mess than usual. Your lips quivering. And just like that, you broke down.

Peter pulled you closer, just holding you. He didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. You knew everything, and there was no way to assure you that everything would be okay. Because he didn’t know that. And as he held you to his chest, he let out a few tears himself. In minutes you were both huddled together on the ground, dirt and leaves sticking to your clothes. You clung to one another as you cried, his hands stroking your hair while you clutched onto his shirt.

Peter shushed and soothed you, stroking your hair as cries escaped his lips.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” he croaked out between sobs. You just nodded, clutching onto his tunic and gasping out that it didn’t matter. Peter kept apologising anyway, his hair tousled, his face puffy and stained with tears that you feared would never stop.

You sat like that for a long time, your sobs filling one another’s ears and more water leaked from your eyes than you knew you had in you. Because nothing was okay, and as you sat in the dim and cold light of the sun—lost in the middle of the Neverland woods—neither of you knew if it would ever be okay again.

#peter pan #peterpan #peter pan x reader #peter pan imagine #neverland #x reader #xreader #reader #reader imagine #imagine #still can't believe it #still can't accept that #peter pan is gone forever

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setaripendragon · 3 years

Text

I don’t know if anyone remembers my silly little Narnia fic where the Pevensie kids all get meet-cutes with their future partners, but I’ve been working on a silly little sequel ever since, and I finally finished it. So, here’s the Pevensies finally getting together (sort of) with their partners, from the partner’s PoV, because I figured t hey deserved to get a say.

Jane had crushes before. A couple of really childish ones that were more her playing at mimicking the concept before the war forced her to grow up too fast, and then a few more serious ones after her little jaunt to Neverland as puberty dug its nasty little claws in. Peter was different.

Her Peter, not Peter Pan, even though Peter Pevensie wasn’t really her Peter at all. He was her best friend, sure, and had been since the day he’d let her flatten a couple of bullies by herself before he leapt in to de-escalate the situation, but he wasn’t hers. Not like she wanted him to be. Because not only was he kind of ridiculously handsome, and just carried himself with the sort of confidence and poise that could steal anyone’s breath, but he was also just an incredibly good person.

Which, Jane had found, was kind of rare, in boys. And maybe part of that was because Peter – her Peter, not- whatever – was a lot more grown up than the other boys her age, but she didn’t think so. He could be verygrown up when he wanted to be – which was awe-inspiring in it’s own way – but even when he was being silly and playful and ridiculously childish, he was still good. He was never horrid, never unkind, not even in jest. He never looked down on her, never held back if she instigated a bit of rough-housing, but he also never pushed her too hard, or gloated when he won, or sulked when he lost.

Jane had felt strangely alone after she got back from Neverland. She’d gained a new appreciation for the joys and wonders of childhood, but she hadn’t lost her understanding of responsibility and duty. She could get along with kids and adults, but she always felt so out of place. Like she was hiding half of herself just to fit in. That, and, she’d never been particularly lady-like to begin with, and living with the Lost Boys even for a few dayshad ruined her for any sort of delicate dignity and grace, so she didn’t really fit in with the girls her own age.

Peter – not-really-her Peter – was the same as her. Too grown-up for his age, but with a strong sense of whimsy and fantasy that would have most grown-ups giving him the same odd looks Jane got. He told the best stories, and her temper never seemed to throw him, and if he was sometimes a bit overbearing, like it didn’t even occur to him that she might, possibly, have a different opinion or a better idea, he never acted like she didn’t have a right to call him out on it. When they argued – and they did, fairly regularly, even – it was never with intent to wound, just with passion and ideas spilling out too fast and too loud and too important to hold back.

Jane was pretty sure she loved him. Her mother had warned her to be careful, not to hang all her hopes on one boy when she was still so young, and Jane tried, she really did, but she honestly couldn’t imagine a better man than Peter Pevensie.

Not that there was anything happening. Because the problem was that she and Peter had been best friends for years. Peter didn’t have quite her problems with his peers, he got on well enough with the boys in their year, but it was clear – to Jane, at least – that he was also holding a little of himself back, when he was with them. Not with her. And that was good, that was great – it was amazing, quite frankly – but it was also a little bit painful.

Because, of course, they got teased. A lot. A boy and a girl spending that much time together? Everyonejust assumed they were ‘together’. And Jane got flustered, and that made her angry, and that made her even more flustered. She yelled at the other girls who wouldn’t stop asking about her ‘boooyfriend’, and she punched the boys who wouldn’t stop making lewd commentaries, and blushed ridiculously at any mention of the notion.

Peter was phased at all. ‘Hey, Pevensie, is that your girlfriend?’ was invariably answered with the sort of stern-disappointed stare that would put any parent or teacher to shameand a bland ‘Jane is my friend’. Which, of course, Jane really did appreciate, because being Peter’s friend was just about the best thing that had happened to her since Neverland. It just… would have been nice to see even a hintthat he might possibly have even once thought of her as more than that.

Still, she’d thought, they were still young, they had plenty of time. Only they didn’t. Because then Jane found out that Peter had enlisted. He was too young, technically, but Jane wasn’t surprised that that hadn’t stopped him. He was pretty big on duty – a bit too much, sometimes, but Jane really kind of loved him for that, too – and on fighting bigotry anywhere and everywhere he found it, so it really, really wasn’t a surprise.

It wasscary, though. A little bit terrifying, because he might not come back. He might go out there to fight, and he might dieinstead. That would tear her apart no matter what, but it alsomade her think that she might not have another chance to ever tell him, to ever knowif maybe…

And if there was one thing Neverland had taught Jane, it was that sometimes the amazing things didn’t happen unless you believedthey would. Sometimes you had to jump off the damn cliff and just have faith that you would fly, instead of fall. She kind of wished she had a little pixie dust right now, though, just to give her that extra boost.

Because Peter was standing in front of her, and sometime while Jane had been fretting, they’d managed to walk all the way to the god damned train station, and he was literally minutes away from leaving. He looked kind of dashing in the uniform, but he also looked – hilariously – uncomfortable. She would have expected him to look at home in it, with how he was about duty and fighting and all, but no. He kept tugging at the sleeves and shifting his shoulders and grimacing.

And she loved the stupid face he pulled when he really just wanted to stick his tongue out in disgust but won’t because he was trying to be polite. She loved his stupid face no matter what expression he was wearing, and she needed him to know thatbefore he left. Just in case.

So she grabbed him by the front of his uniform – uncaring that she was interrupting whatever his little sister was saying, because if she cared, then she wouldn’t be able to go through with it, and then she’d neverget around to it – and told him “Don’t die.” in as stern a tone as she could manage before she yanked him down as she went up on tiptoes to press her mouth against his. Thatshould get the message across.

It wasn’t, exactly, the world’s best kiss. It wasn’t exactly even a proper kiss at all. Jane just held there for a long moment, not moving, eyes scrunched shut, her lips against his, until her courage faltered, and she dropped back down onto her heels and opened her eyes to stare up at him belligerently.

Peter looked… stunned. Which was at least better than disgusted. Or pitying. His eyes were unfocused, gazing off into nothingness somewhere a little above her head, and his jaw was slightly slack, lips just a tiny bit parted. “Oh.” He said, like it was a prelude to something, only that was it, he didn’t say anything else, just kept staring, and blinking, and staring some more.

Someone – probably Lucy – tried to pretend a snicker was actually a cough, and the noise seemed to knock Peter out of his trance. He shook himself, frowning for a brief moment before his gaze refocused on Jane, and- and everything just sort of stopped. Jane’s breath turned syrupy in her lungs and the rest of the platform just faded into fuzzy nothingness, because Peter was looking at her like he was really seeingher, like he was looking at something deeper than her damned bones, and was awed by what he saw. “Oh.” He said again, this time with a whole heap more emphasis and an entire world of meaning behind it.

It sounded infinitely better than the last one, so Jane tried for a smile. Peter grinned back, and Jane felt like she could possibly just float away without any helpful pixie dust at all. He reached up, curled a hand around the side of her neck – his hand was so warm – and leaned in. Then he hesitated, tilted his head, tried again, and finally managed to fit their mouths together. It was awkward, but also really endearing, and Jane didn’t care either way, because Peter’s – herPeter, and he really was hers– lips were on hers and moving and sliding and kissing, and her entire world narrowed down to that one sensation.

“I promise I will do my very best not to die.” Peter told her as he drew back.

“You’d better.” Jane snapped, letting go of his collar to poke him in the chest. “Because if that was all I getfrom you, Pevensie, I will drag you back from the land of the dead just to kill you myself.” Peter laughed, unfazed, and kissed her again.

---

The war was over, and Jack was finally home. Or, well, sort of home. He wouldn’t really feel like he’d made it home until he was back in America, but the Kingsley estate was close enough, the site of enough childhood misadventures to count. It was close enough, and if he was being honest with himself, he was putting off his return to the States, just a little. He could have been through the mirror and back home in a trice, without having to worry about boats or planes or travel time, but instead he was lingering about in London.

He made up excuse after excuse as to why he was staying, but the truth was, he was still hoping that he might run into Susan again. It was stupid, he knewit was stupid, she was a beautiful, clever, gentlewoman, and there was absolutely no guarantee that she’d even rememberhim, even if he did manage to find her again.

Everyone he’d asked from the pub where they’d met knew her, knew ofher, but no one knew any more about her than Jack did. Not even her last name. It was depressing, and made Jack feel like a stalker, so he’d stopped asking about her. He did not leave London, though, stupid hopeless romantic that he was.

Dwelling on it was even more stupid, he thought as he made his way back from a grocery run for Sunday lunch tomorrow that Lynn had forced him to go on to get him out of her hair for a while. He was being a pest, he should just go home, but the Underlandian in him insisted that home was where the heart was, and right now, his heart still hadn’t managed to let go of Susan.

Jack stopped dead on the sidewalk, staring, because there was no way- He was seeing things because he’d been thinking about her too much. Susan, walking with a younger girl at her side and arguing good naturedly with one of the boys a little ahead of them. “Susan?!” Jack called out before he could help himself, and jogged across the street towards her.

She looked up, eyes going wide with shock on spotting him. She looked so painfully youngin that moment, almost frightened, that Jack slowed uncertainly before he’d even reached her. Still, he pulled his most charming grin on, the one that she’d never been fooled by, but had seemed amused by, nonetheless, and swept her a gallant bow like he would if he unexpectedly ran into Lilibeth. “Jack.” Susan greeted, and that was definitely not the open, pleased greeting he’d been hoping for. She sounded reserved, wary, and worst of all, uncertain.

Jack let his smile dim a bit, and told himself it was ridiculous to feel disappointed. It wasn’t as if they had anything more than one evening of interesting conversation. But it had been the most genuineconversation Jack had managed in years, it had been so Underlandian, like a breath of fresh air in amongst the choking smog of the war.

“Su? Who’s this?” One of the boys asked, frowning at him.

“This is Sergeant Jack Manchester.” Susan introduced. “Jack, these are my brothers and sister, Peter, Edmund, and Lucy.”

Jack offered his hand to Peter, then to Edmund, and then to Lucy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” He said sincerely, and then returned his attention to Susan. “I was hoping I’d run into you again, maybe get your permission to buy you a drink, this time?” He asked, and it came out a little tentative, because she still didn’t look nearly as at ease as she had when they’d first met.

“You mean you didn’task permission the first time?” Peter demanded, glowering.

Definitely a big brother, that one, Jack thought with a grin. “I asked forgiveness, instead.” He replied cheerfully.

“Oh, thatJack.” Lucy said wickedly. “I should have known when you bowed.” She added, nudging Susan, who was going ever so slightly pink. “Mum went ballisticwhen she heard Susan talking about you, you know.”

Jack blinked. Would parental disapproval account for how wary Susan seemed right now? Not that he could imagine whythey wouldn’t like him, unless they were some of the people who hated Americans. He could whip out his ‘noble’ English lineage if that would help. “I’m not that scruffy, am I?” He asked, playfully looking down at himself as if checking for dirt or mis-buttoned clothes, and then peeking back up at Susan, looking for a proper answer.

“Not at all.” Susan assured him, and therewas that bright, sharp lady he’d met last time. She was trying to hide her smile, and the appreciative look she cast him, but she wasn’t trying that hard, and it made Jack beam at her in hope that maybe he hadn’t blown this before there even wasa ‘this’.

“No, I think she was more upset about your age.” Edmund interjected, earning himself a truly fierce glare from Susan. He smiled back innocently.

Jack blinked again. “My… age?” He asked. “I’m only twenty-eight.” He pointed out, cautious and bewildered. Susan might be a little younger than him, but not by more than four or five years. He’d thought as much in the pub, particularly when she laughed, that she was maybeon the wrong side of twenty, but he doubted it. Only, he realised, looking at her now, that she stilllooked like she was maybe on the wrong side of twenty.

Susan wasn’t quite meeting his gaze, and she looked… unhappy. Lips pressed into a thin line, and expression carefully neutral in a way that Jack didn’t believe for an instant. “Ten years.” Edmund murmured thoughtfully. “That’s not quite as bad as Mum was afraid of, I think.”

Ten years. That meant that when Jack had met her, when Jack had teased and flirted and fallen just a little bit in love with her, Susan had been fifteen. It made him feel dizzy. After all, he’d started fights with the sort of creeps who would leer after his little sister that way, and Susan was the same age as Ruth.

That brought Jack’s train of thought to a screeching halt. Because trying to put Susan and Ruth next to each other and thinking of them as the same age just… didn’t seem to want to workin his mind. Susan had notbehaved like a fifteen year old in that pub. Not even a little bit. He wondered, giving Susan a slightly closer look, just how old she’d be on the other side of a mirror.

“At least I’m not as bad as Great-Uncle Tarrant.” Jack said, and then snorted, because, wow, that was an understatement, even if it was hard to gauge the exact age difference when some days he was actually younger than Great-Aunt Alice.

“How bad is Great-Uncle Tarrant?” Lucy asked curiously.

It was a bit of a struggle to do the maths. Underland didn’t really agreewith things like maths. “I’m pretty sure that, chronologically, Great-Aunt Alice is more than twenty years younger than him.” Jack answered, because that was as exact as he could get, and then he brightened as an absolutely brilliant idea occurred to him. “If you wanted, you could come meet them? We’re doing Sunday roast tomorrow, and the whole family’ll be there.” He offered to Susan, who looked just as shocked as she had when he’d called out to her earlier.

“You want me to meet your family?” Susan asked cautiously.

Jack nodded, smiling warmly. “I think they’d love you.” He told her, entirely honestly, and didn’t add the follow up that was sitting on the tip of his tongue; I think I could love you, my gentle queen.

“That sounds like a great idea.” Peter said, which startled Jack a little, since Peter didn’t seem to like him very much. The clap on the shoulder Peter then gave him was a little too rough to be called friendly. “We’ll be there.”

Ah, Jack thought, amused. Not letting his sister go off with a strange man into foreign territory alone, that’swhat that was about. “The more the merrier.” Jack assured him, and only realised just how right he’d been to say it when Peter wasn’t the only one who relaxed. Besides, it was true. If he was bringing Susan, then a good portion of the guest list from Underland probably shouldn’t come, and that meant that Lynn was going to make far too much food for just the ordinary human-like people. Three more mouths to feed would barely make a dent.

He gave them his address, promised them again that everyone would be delighted to meet them, bowed again to Susan and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand in farewell, and jogged off home with a spring in his step that hadn’t been there before.

---

Tavan was finding it increasingly hard to sit still. Lynn reached across the table and put her hand over his, and it was only then that he realised he’d been fiddling with his cuff to the point of fraying it. Sheepishly, he tucked his hands out of sight under the table, and Lynn rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t know why you’re fretting so, Tavan. Edmund’s already proven he’s not going to baulk at a bit of Underlandish magic.” She pointed out, going back to doing the household accounts.

Edmund had done a lot more than that, Tavan thought. Edmund had proven to be brilliantly sharp-witted, curious, and adaptable. Tavan didn’t think he’d ever once heard the phrase ‘but that’s not how that works’ or any of the derivatives from him, and he’d thought up as many of the more shocking things about Underland that he could, just to make sure. Edmund had figured him out in a hot second, of course, because Edmund was brilliant, but he hadn’t been upset. He just looked sneakily amused in that way he had, and asked drolly if he’d passed the test.

Tavan had kissed him.

It was only after, when Edmund had crawled into his lap and quite thoroughly marked up his neck, and rumpled his shirt, that Tavan remembered that he was in Upland, and the belated panic hit. Edmund had taken one look at his poleaxed expression, and said, in a fond murmur; “You’re fine. I don’t think bigotry is the natural order of things, either.”

Tavan had beamed at him. “Yeah, ye passed the test.”

So now, Edmund had an invitation to Underland. Which would be fine, it would be great. Except. Except Tavan had thought he’d be taking Edmund to see Iplam, to see the flower fields and show him Tavan’s study. Maybe to meet Grandma. And sure, Grandma was scary, but she was still family. He hadn’t counted on Her Majesty The White Queen insisting, all wide-eyed innocence, that Edmund “simply mustcome to Marmoreal and meet the wholefamily.”

Which meant that Edmund was going to be subject to meeting the Queen of Underland on his very first trip there. And, yes, Queen Lilibeth was like an aunt to Tavan, but that didn’t change the fact that she was the very literal heart and soul of the land, and that was intimidating no matter how sweet and gentle she, of course, was.

The doorbell rang, and Tavan jumped to his feet, nearly knocking the chair over in his haste, and rushed to get the door. Edmund was, as always, a lovely sight, and his shy, sly little smile as he stepped over the threshold was as charming as ever. He was unfailingly polite to Lynn, and if Tavan didn’t know him, he would never have been able to tell that Edmund was actually quite eager to get on with things, he was so cordial and patient.

Still, he did know better. Quite a lot better, actually, so he gave his cousin an apologetic grin and said; “So sorry tae rush off, Lynn, but we’ve an appointment we just cannae be late for.” while dragging Edmund not too subtly towards the stairs. Edmund laughed, and Lynn waved them off with a roll of her eyes, calling after them that Lilibeth would never be so crass as to be impatient.

Which was true, but still, her disappointment if you caused her to considersomething as uncharitable as impatience could be crushing. “Lilibeth?” Edmund questioned as they made for the spare room.

“Ah…” Tavan grimaced. “The White Queen.”

Edmund flinched perceptibly, and Tavan faltered a little, concerned. “Sorry. Bad memories. Why is she the WhiteQueen?” He asked cautiously.

“Tha’d be because she’s the moral center o’ Underland. White for purity, open-mindedness, compassion.” Tavan replied thoughtfully, and then looked at Edmund again, checking on him, because his reaction had been unusual, to say the least.

Edmund was nodding, though, expression the same intense curiosity he always got about all things Underlandish. “Some cultures associate white with death and winter.” He pointed out.

Tavan laughed a little. “Well, don’t tell Lily that. Not that the Queen can be anything but hospitable tae any o’ the seasons, but I think she might do something un-queen-like if you suggested she was supposed tae represent winter. She loves her roses far too much for that.”

Edmund relaxed properly at that, and just in time, too, because they’d reached the mirror, and Tavan paused to take a bracing breath before stepping through. Lilibeth, of course, hadn’t listened to a single word of Tavan’s request for a modicum of privacy, and had invited what looked like half the court to come meet Tavan Hightopp’s beloved.

Exasperated, but not surprised, Tavan turned back and stuck his head and one arm through the mirror, holding out a hand in invitation. Edmund grinned as he took Tavan’s hand and allowed him to pull him gently through the mirror. But as he passed through the rippling surface, something strange happened. Edmund Pevensie stepped into the mirror, but the man who stepped out on the other side into the White Queen’s court was no London school boy.

Edmund was almost as tall as Tavan, now, with a touch of dark stubble over his jaw and a silver circlet gleaming in his dark hair. His clothes, too, were different. They looked like they belonged here, a fine tunic with a crest in the shape of a lion on his breast, and leather breeches tucked into high boots, and a sword on his hip that his other hand fell to perfectly naturally.

Tavan quite lost his breath at the sight of him.

Edmund’s breath caught a beat later, and he looked down at himself, even as his free hand left his sword to touch cautiously at the circlet – the crown, it was definitely a crown– on his head, and then ghost down over the corner of his jaw. And then he smiled, so beatifically that Tavan’s breath caught all over again, and he actually felt a little weak-kneed when Edmund turned that smile on him and offered him his arm. He took it, of course, and subtly guided Edmund over to where Lilibeth was rising to her feet. The crowd of familiar faces parted before them like they never would have if it had just been Tavan. Or if it had been Tavan and Edmund as he’d looked on the other side of the looking glass.

Lilibeth rose to the occasion magnificently, despite the confusion, and was all smiles as she greeted Edmund. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of a properintroduction.” She lilted curiously.

“Your Majesty.” Edmund greeted, inclining his head respectfully, but notably notbowing. “It seems I am, once again, King Edmund the Just, of Narnia.”

---

Benji loved it when Lucy came to stay at Pemberley. Somehow, she lit the place up, and made everything that was familiar to him new and exciting again. She ran barefoot through the woods and taunted him into going skinny-dipping in the lake with her and taught him new dances under the watchful gazes of his ancestor’s portraits in the gallery.

She never stayed for long. That wasn’t her way, and Benji didn’t mind. Sometimes, he went with her when she left, whether that was travelling to far-flung places to meet new people and learn new languages, or to meetings and charities and projects closer to home, watching her throw her considerable will against any and all problems she came across, but sometimes he didn’t. And they both liked it like that.

That, Benji thought, was the thing he loved best about Lucy. Loving her was never a trap, never a cage, never a duty. She was a wild thing and she would not be tamed, and in turn, never once tried to tame him, and never asked for more than he could give.

He got a little caught up in it, caught up in herand her way of life, riding the high of being known, so clearly and effortlessly, by someone who shared his feelings and values. Which is why it came as a complete shock to him when, on the first evening of Lucy’s third stay at Pemberley, when his father leaned forwards a little and said; “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Benji, what the hold up is.”

“With what?” Benji asked.

“The engagement, of course!” Father replied, and reality crashed back onto Benji with a feeling like being submerged in ice-water. At his elbow, Lucy went suddenly still. An alarming thing, given she was usually always so full of movement.

“What engagement?” Benji asked, half genuinely bewildered, although he had a creeping sense that his family had gotten the wrong idea, because they never had understood when he tried to explain what it was about the girls he stepped out with that put him off so badly every time, and half stalling for time.

“Benji, darling, please.” Mother said, fondly exasperated. “You haven’t exactly been subtle.”

“Don’t mistake us, we’re very happy you’ve found someone!” Father added. “But your mother is right, you’ve been very obvious about how much you like Miss Pevensie.” His lips pursed with something that was half way between amusement and disapproval. “A little tooobvious, sometimes. You’d better hurry up and make an honest woman out of her, or people will begin to gossip.”

“I beg your pardon,” Lucy said, before Benji could shake the feeling of a noose tightening around his neck and find the breath to speak for himself, “but I’m afraid you’ve all got rather the wrong idea.” She said it in her High Society Voice, which was a sure sign she was sharpening her metaphorical claws. “I’ve no intent to marry. At all. Ever.”

“You’re young yet, my dear.” Mother said, looking a little concerned. “I know marriage can seem intimidating. Lord knows you and Benji are very alike in that regard, but it’s a wonderful thing to find the right person to support you through life.” She shared a loving look with Father. “You shouldn’t let something like that, with someone who understands you, pass you by just because you’re nervous.”

Lucy closed her eyes for a moment. Benji suspected she was praying for patience. “I’m not letting anything pass me by.” She said sharply, a flash of fire in her eyes as she opened them again, the smile on her lips a challenge more than any sort of expression of happiness. “I appreciate having Benji in my life very much.”

Father chuckled, while Mother went a little pink at the rather salacious tone Lucy said the last two words in. Joan snorted, derisive, drawing everyone’s attention. It was a very unkind sound, and Benji startled, because he’d thought Joan and Lucy got on. They were of a similar age, and a similar temperament, and had had many a passionate argument about one subject or another, sparring with ideas in a way that Benji was entirely unsuited for. “He’s not the only person you’ve been appreciating, though, is he?” She asked pointedly.

The whole table went still. Benji’s other two sisters turned to stare at Lucy, suddenly resembling nothing so much as hyenas staring down prey. But Lucy couldn’t be preyif she tried, and met the sudden threatening stares with a complete lack of shame. In fact, her chin kicked up a little in stubborn, fierce pride. Benji almost smiled to see it, but the flicker of admiration was quickly dampened by the thick tension in the air. “Joan?” He asked carefully. “What’s this about?”

“You didn’t tell him?” She asked of Lucy. “You swore to me you would.”

Lucy raised her eyebrows, then smiled. “Benji?” She called, and Benji hummed an acknowledgement, wary of opening his mouth again lest he be talked over. Again. “Joan walked in on me kissing Viscount Cranbrook’s son at that wedding last weekend.”

Benji blinked, startled by that reminder and a little uncomfortable at having such things discussed at the dinner table, with all his family sitting nearby. Then, he began to realise why Joan was looking so very upset. Why everyonewas looking so very upset, actually. “Yes?” He said, deliberately playing obtuse. “You already told me about that.” He paused to smile faintly. “In vivid detail.”

Joan dropped her fork. Father choked on his wine.

“Benjamin Percival Fitzwilliam Darcy!” Mother snapped, putting her own wine glass down with a very inelegant thump. “Such things are notappropriate dinner conversation!”

Benji felt veryindignant about being scolded for something that wasn’t his fault. At all. “Why am Igetting scolded? Joanie’s the one who brought it up!” He paused, feeling a little guilty, because Joan had been trying to be a good sister, to protect him, even if she had been making assumptions., and it felt a little unfair to throw her under the bus after that. So before Mother could start scolding again, he turned to his sister. “Thanks for worrying about me, though, but it really is fine. Lucy did tell me what she was about. She always does.”

There was another one of those stunned silences. Benji was really getting tired of them, and this time he couldn’t even tell what had prompted it. “You mean she’s done this before?” Joan demanded, sounding more bewildered than scandalised, which at least cleared that up.

“Yes?” Benji offered, looking around the table. Everyone else looked significantly more scandalised, and a bit insulted, whether that was on his behalf or the family’s, he couldn’t tell, and it made him feel a stranger in his own home all of a sudden. “Why are you all so damn surprised?” He blurted out. “I told youhow trapped it all makes me feel, with girls who are all thinking of marriageand one and onlyand forever. I can’t even tell what I my favourite foodis going to be on any given day, never mind who my favourite personis going to end up being next year, or the year after that!”

Joan was the only one who had the decency to look a little shame-faced. The others just looked vaguely appalled.

Except Lucy, of course. Who washis favourite person, and might even stay that way for the rest of his life. But still, the idea of trapping her in that role, of binding her to him and him to her in any way more than a simple question asked every day they happened to be together – ‘do you want?’ with no demand upon the answer being yes – was abhorrent.

Lucy just giggled, and reached out to lace their fingers together. “Why not everyperson?” She suggested cheerfully.

“I haven’t met every person.” Benji pointed out as solemnly as he was able, with his lips persistently trying to twitch up into a smile.

“Yet.” Lucy countered brightly. “And on that subject!” She declared enthusiastically, banishing the weight of the previous conversation and his family’s judgement as easily as a spring breeze scattering morning mists. “I was thinking about going to help the relief efforts in Morocco, and I thought you might like to come this time?”

#Chronicles of Narnia #pevensie siblings #crossovers #Peter Pan #Alice in Wonderland #Pride and Prejudice #Peter Pevensie #Jane Darling #Susan Pevensie #Edmund Pevensie #Lucy Pevensie #Next Gen OCs #Queer Pevensies #Demi!Peter #Bi!Susan #Gay!Edmund #Poly!Lucy

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harrypotterandthefandomaccount · 4 years

Text

Sucker, Part ii

Warnings: mention of death, a lil bit of sadness, maybe a curse word, fear of dying, little bit of a panic attack

Note: wow this is my only fic that has a second part lol

Ships: Remus x Reader, Severus x reader(platonic)

It truly had been years since you’ve last seen the Mauraders, the little group at Hogwarts that bullied you and your best friend, Severus Snape. You and Snape stayed friends all throughout school and kept in touch after, learning that he was working to become the new Potions Professor at Hogwarts in a few years.

You took another route, choosing to work in the field of Herbology and slowly make your way up to a healer. The two of you worked hand in hand most of the time, helping one another with certain tasks you had to do to get your degrees.

However, your plans halted as you and Severus heard rumors one night that the Potter’s have been attacked. You were somewhat close to Lily, staying friends with her even though James was an absolute handful. You were there for Lily when she found out she was pregnant and was also there for Severus when he heard the news. Sure, seeing Lily and James get married was tough, but seeing them start a family? No easy feat.

As the whispers grew louder one night when you and Severus were walking home, your two houses next to each other, you both gave one another knowing looks - you should go to the Potter’s. Godric’s Hallow truly wasn’t far so you both ran, hoping to find someone alive.

You shivered, shaking your head as you tried to forget that moment. You were standing around Lily and James’ caskets, watching them being lowered into their graves. Severus stood beside you, reaching for your hand which you gladly let him hold. He was trying to be strong for you, for Lily, but now she was dead and there was nothing he could do about it.

You even felt a bit bad for James. Sure, he was an asshole and bullied you and Sev, but that didn’t mean he deserved to die. Over the years, he apologized to you and Severus for his actions and told you that he saw you as a younger sister, even naming you as Harry’s Godmother.

You and Sev never saw that coming.

But now, you had no clue where Harry was. You asked Dumbledore - actually, demanded - where he was, and all he told you was that he was safe. He promised he wouldn’t be harmed in any way, shape, or form. You still didn’t feel any better.

Letting out a shaky breath and wiping a stray tear from your face, you looked up, only to meet a solemn glance of none other than Remus Lupin. You hated to admit it, especially at the funeral of one of your closest friends, but Remus had grown attractive. You were sure Lily was laughing hysterically at you in Heaven.

You gave him a small smile, somehow communicating that you wanted to talk to him after the burial was over. He nodded, a lost smile on his face as well. Sirius stood beside him as Peter was behind the duo, looking like he wanted to leave.

As the funeral ended, you told Severus to meet you at home, that you wanted to catch up with Remus and Sirius. He looked at you with a confused look, “do you need me here? In case they get out of hand?”

You shook your head, “we’re adults now, Sev; I’m sure they’ve grown up.”

“Certainly not Sirius,” Sev mumbled, tossing a disgruntled glance towards the group. You smacked him on the shoulder, telling him to run along before you force-apparated him.

As he left, you made your way over to the remaining Mauraders, “hey. . .sorry we had to see each other under these circumstances.”

Remus was the first to greet you, his hug feeling longer than usual, “me too. Knowing Lily and James though, they’d want us to be out and about like nothing changed.”

Sirius grumbled, “yeah, well, they’re not here anymore, are they?” Angry tears looked ready to spill.

You put both hands on his cheeks, “Sirius, hey, it’ll be okay. Harry is still alive and as his godparents, we’re gonna make sure nobody is going to hurt him, you hear me?” With a nod, he pulled you into a hug as well, not lasting as long as Remus’. He pulled away with a tight smile, patting you gently on the cheek.

Remus tried not to focus on the caskets being buried, turning back to his friends, “here, let’s go for a little walk, how’s that?” Turning to the group, he heard Sirius and Peter saying goodbye and scurrying off, already looking for a way to forget the day.

You gave him a small smile, shrugging your shoulders, “we all have different ways to cope. Still want to go on that walk?”

Remus chuckled, “sounds good to me, darling.”

As the two of you walked, you looked up at Remus, “I just realized. . .we never really talked about one of the last times I ever spoke to you - in the courtyard. I’m -”

Remus shushed you, pulling your arm into his, “I know I’m not about to hear you apologize. I’m sorry for never stopping them from antagonizing you and Severus - that wasn’t right of me.”

You let a smile take over your face, “all is forgiven, Remus. Sorry that I called you despicable.”

He chuckled, “all is forgiven, Y/N.”

Remus continued, walking with your arms intertwined, “so, how long have you and Severus been seeing each other?”

You tried your best not to laugh, “Rem, we’re not together; just best friends is all.”

You noticed how red his face turned, “Oh Merlin, I-I am so sorry, I just saw you two holding hands and I just thought -”

“You’re not the first person, Remus; Dumbledore thought the same thing, “you explained, reveling in the conversation. The more you talked with Remus, the more you wanted to talk with him forever.

Remus chuckled, “glad I’m not the only one embarrassed, then.”

The two of you continued to walk until you reached a familiar street, seeing your house lit with your lights on. As you walked closer to your house, you looked up at Remus, “would you like to come inside for some tea? You’re welcome to stay and even have Sirius come over. It’s been a rough day.”

Remus walked with you up to your front door, “are you sure? I really don’t want to be intruding.”

With a smile, you unlocked the door and opened it, inviting him inside, “just get inside, Remus.”

When inside, he noticed your style had completely changed. Sure, he noticed your small tattoos on your fingertips and one on your wrist, but this was a whole new you. You had multiple bookcases and over a hundred books, some laying on the floor from there being no space. Your couch had a bit of a mess on it as you scrambled to straighten it up, the trees outside your windows not allowing you to see very well. Your lights only emitted a small radiance, the rooms being very dark.

Many plants were placed on shelves in your living room, hanging over a few pieces of small decor as pictures of you and a couple faces he didn’t recognize littered the wall. Of course, a multitude of records were hung on your wall as well. Your living room led into your kitchen which was almost the same style - but he noticed it wasn’t as dark. Sure, there were more books and plants but there was light, a few cutting boards help up against the backsplash, a tea kettle still laying on the stove, cups neatly organized on a little shelf, and cinnamon rolls - which looked freshly made - laying in a pan on the counter.

“Sorry for the mess,” you started, “hasn’t been a great couple years and the only person I’ve had over is Sev.”

Remus shook his head with a laugh, helping you balance a couple things, “it’s not a bother, dear. But what do you mean by the last couple years?”

You shrugged, “it was before I reconnected with Lily and you guys; I just got mixed up with the wrong people and did some questionable things and. . .got myself into a mess.”

He noticed you space out for a second before finishing off, “but through that, I developed a new love - academia.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, “like, dark academia?”

You smiled, “exactly! That’s Sev’s whole ‘vibe’ he gives off, but the people I met. . .they weren’t good, and they kind of, dug me into this hole that I can’t really get out of. But hey, I’m not complaining because the aesthetic is breathtaking.”

Remus stood there, silent, as he processed what you told him. You hung around a bad group of people, and they must’ve really degraded you, making you feel terrible about yourself. Why did he start to get angry?

“But that’s why I have herbology, and of course, Lily brought some of that light back into my life,” you started with a smile, “I’ve been working with some healers at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, creating some new remedies and such. And gosh, Harry is one of the brightest lights of my life. Now if only Albus told me where he is, that’d be great. “

Remus smiled, walking towards you and holding your hands in his, “I’m extremely proud of you, Y/N; your work sounds phenomenal. But you know it’s for his and yours’ safety. If You-Know-Who or any of his followers found you and him. . .”

You blushed, “thank you, Remus. . .that actually means a lot. And I know, but that boy needs someone he knows, and for all I know, he could be drifting down a river like fricken Moses.”

“Afraid I don’t get that reference, darling, but I’m sure he’s safe and sound. Was that a Muggle thing?” Remus asked, a small smile on his lips as he put his hands in his pockets.

You laughed, “yeah, it’s a Muggle story.” A comfortable silence enveloped the two of you before you sighed, “anyways, what have you been up to?”

“Well, I’ve been-” A knock at the door interrupted him.

You gave a sympathetic smile, “give me a sec.” Reaching the door, you opened it to see a nervous-looking Severus Snape, “everything okay, Sev?”

He gently pushed past you, “hold on, dove. Remus,” he started, making the mentioned man turn around, “it’s a full moon tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow, “inviting him on our late-night escapades?” Nobody laughed at your joke, making you feel uneasy, “what’s got everybody’s wand in a knot about a full moon?”

Remus let out a shaky breath, turning to you, “love, I’m so sorry but I actually have to get going. I promise I’ll make this up to you.” He walked over to you, giving your cheek a kiss before rushing out the door, past Severus, worriedly glancing at the moon.

You watched him run down the road, tempted to call out to him as your face turned red, but Sev grabbed your arm, pulling you inside and closing the door. You turned to him, “what the hell was that all about?”

Severus sat you down on your couch that laid against two walls, “he had to get out of here, Y/N. You weren’t safe with him here, especially during a full moon.”

You scoffed, “Sev, Remus was perfectly fine. What on earth are you-”

It hit you. “Oh,” you mumbled, looking at your hands in your lap.

Sev held your hands, just like Remus had a couple minutes prior, “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner, dove. As much as I hate the man, it isn’t my place.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, “no, no, it’s okay Sev. I just. . .wasn’t expecting it, is all. Is it bad that I don’t know if I feel comfortable around him?”

Severus shook his head, “absolutely not, dove. If you don’t want to see him again, that’s your decision. You just let me know.”

With a nod, you stood up and paced, “I think I need a little bit. He’s still Remus but gods forbid, what if you haven’t gotten here? I-I-”

Severus stood up, holding you close to his chest, “deep breaths, dove. You’re still here, you’re okay.”

“I miss them, Sev,” you started, “I miss Lily, I miss Harry, and I even miss James. . .yet I could’ve seen Lils again but I’m not ready, I’m not. Why am I?” Your breath seemed to get caught in your throat, your hands feeling clammy.

Sev held your face in his hands, “you’re alive with me, Y/N. You’re here and breathing and you’re okay. Shh, dove, you’re okay.”

You truly didn’t know how it happened - your breath quickened at the revelation that Remus was a werewolf and the fact that you could’ve died tonight. You weren’t ready to die, but here you were, panicking over something that most likely isn’t going to happen soon. Your mind soon drifted to Remus, hoping he was handling his transformation okay - you hoped he was. Merlin, were you a sucker for him.

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sexymanera · 3 years

Text

the second star to the right

kalim al-asim

female reader

semi angst

peter pan au

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

“Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.”

“heave-ho!” the loud thump sound made its way to your ears as you jolted awake, scared for what you might witness. was it a burglar? a kidnapper? it made you paranoid how your inner questions were left unanswered as you slowly grabbed a hard-covered book from your night desk to attack the intruder. at the corner of your room, you caught a glimpse of a boy snooping around, as if he was looking for something.

you stayed in bed, waiting for him to do something. if he really was a kidnapper, you would hit him with the book. there wasn’t much to steal here- it was practically a library, so you didn’t mind if he stole anything, really. you started to calm down until his figure crept up to the foot of your bed. oh, this ruffian is really asking for it. you thought to yourself, mentally smirking and applauding his bravery. as soon as you saw his face being illuminated due to your night lamp, you halted.

“ah! you were here!” the boy exclaimed, scurrying away from your bed. you raised a brow, confused. what in god’s name was he looking for that he didn’t deduce that there might be a person in the room? “may i help you?” despite the strange boy dressed in odd clothing literally breaking an entry in your humble abode, you spoke in a polite manner out of habit. the white haired boy looked up, his garnet red eyes pierced through you, causing you to get lost in the shining orbs.

shaking your head, you furrowed your eyebrows and casted a glare towards him, “i asked, may i help you?” you repeated, this time in a more threatening tone. the boy gulped at your sudden change of attitude and stood up straight, clearing his throat, “you don’t know me?” you mentally rolled your eyes. “this is preposterous. i wouldn’t associate myself with someone that would enter people’s bedrooms without permission! you’re basically trespassing!” you scolded the young boy, in spite of the fact that he might be about your age if he were a tad taller.

“mm, i see. you’re one of the few who haven’t heard of me,” the boy deduced proudly. you inwardly sigh, awaiting his excuse of why he was in your bedroom in the first place and how he even got to the top floor without the use of a rope or a ladder. you were, in fact, at least curious to hear how. “my name’s kalim! kalim al-asim. and you?” you frowned and crossed your arms, “y/n. y/n l/n.” you deadpanned. kalim flinched at your uninterested yet stern tone and nervously whistled comically. “aha,” he started, “you see, i’m looking for my shadow! its been escaping my clutches recently and i have trouble finding it.” kalim sighed, scratching the back of his neck at the thought that he could’ve had the wrong house- again.

you were bewildered, to say the least. what a ludicrous story. “i don’t believe you.” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose due to annoyance. kalim bit his lower lip, full of pride. “but i am telling the truth! maybe it’s because you’re a grown up that you don’t get it.” okay, now you were offended. did you look old for your age? must be the eye bags, you thought to yourself but brushed off the offensive statement coming from this boy’s mouth and glared daggers at him. “fine, fine. perhaps you had gotten the wrong address? there are thousands of locations where your ‘shadow’ could be lingering around in london.” you suggested, sarcasm dripping from your voice when you said the word “shadow.”

kalim stared at you for a solid minute before turning his attention to the bookshelf near your door. you raised an eyebrow at the area he was focused on and flinched when he jumped towards your bookshelf, knocking all the pieces of literature down as well as its container. you bit your lip upon the shelf making a loud sound, possibly waking everyone up. “kalim!” you hissed silently as he strangled a black figure. your eyes widened. my word, he was telling the truth... your mouth opened from shock, eyes not believing what they were seeing.

“i told you, miss! my shadow must be here!” kalim stated proudly as he proceeded to continue strangling the strange, black form. you got out of bed and walked up to kalim, staring at the shadow in awe. how peculiar it was, the shadow being separated from its beholder. “how are you gonna put it back on?” you asked kalim, your eyes not removing its glance from the shadow. kalim thought for a moment, “soap?” you broke your gaze and stared at kalim strangely. did anybody teach this boy some logic?

sighing, you motioned kalim to sit on your bed while you look for your sewing kit. you hate to admit it, but your sewing skills weren’t as praised as your sister. they said that she had talent while you had the looks but you weren’t sure how to feel about that. brushing off the negative thoughts, you grabbed kalim’s shadow by the foot and started to sew it beneath kalim’s shoes, which were surprisingly barely dirty. did this guy use new pairs of shoes?

after sewing the shadow back on, you huffed and stood up, admiring your work. kalim grinned from ear to ear and jumped up, which caused him to float a bit in your room. you could not believe this. how is this even possible?! kalim is flying. flying in your very room with no strings attached- literally.

“thank you, miss!” kalim laughed, still flying around your room in joy. you sigh before crawling back to your bed and underneath the warm covers. kalim noticed how you weren’t as happy and flew above you. “what’s wrong, miss?” kalim asked, his eyes gleamed with concern. it has been years since you saw eyes that contained genuine concern for you. “nothing. shouldn’t you be going along your merry way?” you asked, voice muffled to kalim due to the covers. kalim hummed before shaking you and pointing to your knocked over bookshelf. “what about it? are you going to clean it up?” kalim gasped and shook his head, “cleaning is for grown ups! i was going to ask about the books you read!”

you were confused. no one was ever interested in you nor what you read. it felt... refreshing to say the least. you glanced tiredly at the scattered books on your wooden floor and sighed. “do you want me to lend you some? i don’t really mind if we don’t meet again and you never return it.” you let out a sigh as you escape the warmth of your bed and walked to the books, picking up some stories that kalim might find interesting, despite his knowledge that, you believed, didn’t exist. no offense.

“hm, i suppose this book might be to your liking? oh, and this too,” before you knew it, you were carrying a stack of possibly five books and handed it over to kalim. they were all fairytales that you read when you were a child and you only ever read the said books whenever you had nothing else to do. they were short lived entertainment. kalim’s eyes practically sparkled when he saw the covers of the books. they were pretty appealing to the eyes of children- not that kalim was one but he sure acted like a child.

“thank you so much, miss! i’ll read this to the lost boys and return it!” kalim giggled before grabbing them from your arms and flying upwards. “you do know that you can just call me y/n, right? we’re practically the same age.” you stated, trying to get through to kalim. miss was too formal and you weren’t used to it at all. kalim raised an eyebrow, “hm, yes we may be the same age but you act like an adult. you’re too mature, which is why i think its more appropriate if i call you miss!” preposterous. absolutely preposterous. were you that serious? you always were told that you were more mature than your sister.

“that speaks for you as well, though!” you spoke, defensive. you didn’t even know why you were arguing with kalim at this point. it was all child’s play. kalim watched with sparkling orbs as you tried to defend your statement. “how so?” kalim urged, trying to get you to break out of your shell. you flinched. was this boy even thinking straight? “you said we’re the same age, yet you act like a mere six-year-old!” you silently yelled, taking note of your family still asleep. “are you still mature for your age miss? you just uselessly argued with me over an immature topic.” you bit the inside of your cheek before sighing. although, that statement was the most mature thing that came out of kalim’s mouth since the moment he met you. “you should leave.” kalim laughed before nodding, “good night, miss! please continue to believe in me!” and with that being said, kalim hopped outside of your window and flew to god know’s where.

this must be a dream.

the next night, kalim came back (much to your surprise). you hate to admit it but you kind of missed him- despite the fact that he was annoying you last night. he kept his word and returned the next night to bring back the books you lended him. “miss, the lost boys love it!” kalim exclaimed, sitting comfortably on the edge of your bed. you were pretty confused as to who these lost boys were. “okay, tell me: who exactly are the lost boys?” you wanted answers. were they literally lost and kalim takes care of them? kalim blinked a few times before chuckling, “they’re boys who weren’t claimed by their parents,” kalim sighed, running a hand through his hair, “i took them to neverland so they could have a place to stay- i’m practically their parent!” kalim added, as though he was proud.

meanwhile, you were still confused. weren’t children who parents didn’t want sent to the orphanage? how did kalim come across them? surely he wasn’t targeting them from the moment they were born, right? letting out another tired sigh, you stared at kalim, “so, you take care of them?” kalim nodded excitedly, eager to talk more about the lost boys. “yes. but, hmm, they still need a mom,” kalim thought out loud. now you were cautious. was he referring to you? “oh, i got it! you can be the mom!” kalim announced, getting closer to you. you flinched, “what? why?” you asked as kalim giggled, “because you’re mature and you’re a girl, right?” the white haired boy tilted his head to the side. you sighed, “i’m not going to be a mother! we’re both seventeen-years-old! i’m too young!”

“in neverland, you can be whoever you want! you can be older there!” okay, was this guy actually a twenty-year-old in disguise? he’s using that tactic kidnappers use. “no. i’m not going anywhere.” it’s not like you can if you wanted to. you’re bound in this house by your parents. kalim whined like a child, “aw, fine,” he huffed, “how about giving me some more stories?” kalim looked at you with anticipation. you narrowed your gaze and darted your eyes towards the bookshelf that was neatly arranged, unlike the messy state it was in the previous night.

“wait, before that- i want to talk to you about the book i read.” okay, now you were interested. you wanted to see how this kid thought of the fairytales. since all that neverland talk was probably real, he most likely hasn’t had any children’s books. yes, you asked your parents about him and they told you stories. “hm, what about it?” you queried, not looking up from the novel you were reading. it’s not that you didn’t want to come off as rude, it’s just that you hated eye contact when participating in a conversation.

“well, in this one scene, the prince pressed his lips on the princess’ and she came back to life!” kalim explained, making exaggerated hand motions that you didn’t even want to see clearly. oh. oh dear lord. is he gonna ask you what’s a- “so i was thinking to myself, that word is called a ‘kiss’, right? can you show me?” you flinched and closed your book out of shock. this boy cannot be real, can he? how was he raised? “uh, i don’t think it’s appropriate for me to tell you...” you trailed off, voice getting quiet and face flushed from embarrassment. “eh? why not?” kalim whined, tugging on the sleeve of your night gown. “b-because only people who love each other get to k-kiss.” oh for pete’s sake, you scolded yourself. keep it together, y/n. you sound like a high school student being taught how babies were made.

“huh? but i love you, miss!” okay, now you were sure he wasn’t being serious. “no, you don’t. you’re just saying that.” you sighed, gently slapping both of your cheeks to calm them down. “i do! i’ll prove it to you if i liked that kiss!” the way he was throwing the word kiss around made you even more embarrassed. you were considering kissing him on the cheek but that idea was thrown out of the window the more he mentioned the said word.

“fine, i’ll give you a kiss!” you hissed, turning your head away from him. “close your eyes first...” you mumbled, grabbing something from your drawer. kalim’s eyelids had been shut, a small smile playing on his soft looking lips as he waited for the “kiss.” you bit your lower lip and gently poked the pin cushion to his cheeks, face a bright red. “was that it?” kalim piqued up, sounding a little disappointed. he then opened his eyes and saw the pin cushion pressing his cheeks.

“what! miss, that wasn’t a kiss!” he complained. you laughed before withdrawing back your extended arm, “i told you- only people who love each other can kiss!” you explained, face still tinted with a blush. “hm, fine, but i’ll definitely make you love me!”

oh thank god, he finally understands. you let out a sigh of relief, taking his statement light heartedly. “i still want that kiss, miss...” kalim pouted, fiddling with his fingers. you sighed and ran a hand through your hair, pecking him quickly on the lips. wait- you were supposed to kiss him on the cheek only! kalim flinched at the contact and let out a hot breath which fanned your face as you pulled away. “... can you do that again?” kalim whispered, staring at your e/c orbs. his face illuminated by the warm light of the lamp. he was actually pretty tolerable in this state. “n-no, i’’m going to bed-”

kalim hastily grabbed you by the shoulders and kissed you again, but the kiss lasted longer than the last one. you squeezed your eyes shut, not knowing when he would stop as you were desperate for air. your face felt hot as kalim pulled away, a smile on his lips. “good night, miss. continue to believe in me.”

almost every night, kalim would come by your house. on this particular night, however, you needed him. you needed someone to talk to- someone who would listen. kalim immediately noticed how you weren’t your usual self who would playfully punch him or would flare up when he flirted with you. “what’s wrong, miss?” you two were on the roof top this time- you wanted to get away from all the problems for even just a short while and find comfort in the stars.

“nothing.” you said abruptly. you couldn’t tell him, no matter how much you wanted to. kalim noticed your tone. it wasn’t harsh. he decided to let the topic go and give you some more time. oh how considerate he was when it came to you. thats what you love about him. yes, i did say love. you harbored feelings for the magical teenager that trespassed in your bedroom the first time you met him. he had a charm that you longed for and that was how interested he was in what you had to say. he was a friend. a really good friend you never want to let go of nor lose.

“oh, are you thinking about the stars? well, let me tell you about neverland.” ah neverland, another one of kalim’s stories that you’ve been interested in ever since he mentioned it. he only ever told you about what’s inside neverland and the people inhabiting that world. kalim scooted next to you and extended his arm to a very noticeably bigger star. “see that star over there? look at the second one to the right.” kalim stated as you followed to where his finger was pointing towards.

“that one? what about it?” you asked, hugging your blankets closer to you. “that’s where neverland is! it’s pretty near, i can take you there if you want to.” kalim suggested. you wanted to go to neverland with him. maybe if you do, you’ll be able to escape these problems of yours. maybe you don’t have responsibility there. maybe you’ll even have an actual caring family. the thought made you tear up but you quickly wiped the droplets that escaped your eyes.

“i-i can’t go. sorry,” you always refuse his offer and he always smiled and nodded, understanding your decision. but this time he frowned. he didn’t ask why you didn’t want to go and you loved him for that but the look he was giving you right now asked the said question. the pleading look in his eyes, how they were glossy, how they looked like they were about to spill tears at any given moment.

“h-hah... you can tell me, you know? i don’t like seeing you sad.” perhaps it was time you do open up to him. you know a lot about him but he barely knows anything about you other than your age, name, address and your love for books. maybe if you tell him then perhaps things would change. you inhaled the fresh air of london and turned to face kalim (who you noted was inches apart from you). this sudden closeness reminded you of when you two first kissed- you were still pretty embarrassed about that.

“i’m getting married,” you whispered, though kalim heard it crystal clear. “why...? don’t you... love me?” his voice cracked as he went closer to you. yes, you do love him. you love him more than anyone on this miserable planet. you loved him to death. you would do anything to get to be with him as cheesy as it sounds. “i do,” you began, a cloud formed due to you talking, “but it wasn’t my decision.”

your parents were marrying you off to some guy you don’t even know. you’ve never met him. you don’t even know his name! tears rolled down your cheeks as you awaited kalim’s response. the white haired male was stunned and shocked. he didn’t know how to respond. what should he say anyway? god, he should’ve asked the mermaids for help about this sort of thing. “why are you marrying him if you don’t even love him?! that shouldn’t be allowed!” kalim clenched his fists and shook violently both from frustration and sorrow. he can’t lose you. not yet. not ever.

this is why i hate grown ups... kalim thought to himself.

“i don’t want to, kalim. i swear i don’t love him but i have no choice...” kalim gulped and bit his lower lip to prevent himself from crying although it proved to be useless as he felt hot tears stream down his face. you lifted his chin up so you could get one last good look of him. the last day. this is the last day you’ll be seeing each other...

“y/n...” kalim’s voice cracked once again. the way he said your name in such a tone made you cry. you hated this. why must the world be cruel? why did you take his presence and existence for granted? it was the first time kalim ever called you by your name. kalim grabbed your hand and intertwined it with his. “y/n, i don’t have much time,” he whispered, grabbing both of your hands tightly, afraid he will lose you. “w-what do you mean?” you asked, frantic. what nonsense is he spouting now?

“kalim, this isn’t a funny joke. don’t say those kinds of th-”

“it isn’t a joke!” kalim growled but immediately looked up and softened his expression. “i’m-i’m going to disappear, y/n.” you flinched at this claim. how? is this why he always said to believe in him every time he leaves for neverland? you always believed in him? did you not try hard enough? “why? i always believed in you...” you said in a soft tone, not taking your eyes off of his red orbs.

“you did great but... apparently not everyone does. i’m just someone who was made because people created stories about me. i’m not actually a person, y/n. that’s why my life depends on people’s belief in me.” he explained, his figure slowly dissipating into nothing. more tears streamed down your face. “n-no...” you whispered.

“but hey, listen to me,” kalim started, a smile still playing on his lips as if to reassure you and to stop you from crying. you were attentive. you’re never going to forget how this boy had become your one and only friend. “remember the second star to the right. remember it with all your heart. if you do, something good will be brought upon you, i promise.” you bit your lips, closing your eyes shut. you couldn’t take this anymore.

“good night, miss. continue to believe in me.” kalim whispered, the feeling of his lips connecting to yours once more. it was a bittersweet kiss you longed for. you didn’t want it to end and before you knew it, the feeling of warmth disappeared from your lips and felt as if a part of something was taken from you.

he’s gone. the only person who made me feel alive and wanted... is gone.

“heave-ho!” you flinched at the voice. what on earth? were you hallucinating? “kalim, was that you?” you asked the white haired male as you nudged him. kalim looked up at you, “hm? oh, yeah it was me! i heard it from a dream, didn’t really think it would surprise you.” he stated as you continued to snuggle in his arms. warm. you thought to yourself.

“why did you dream of that old phrase/ i haven’t heard it since i was a child,” you chuckled and closed your eyes, feeling drowsy. the moon illuminated the outlines of your face that kalim took his sweet time to admire. he missed you. th moment he saw you enter night raven college. he felt a familiar feeling in his chest.

“good night, miss. continue to believe in me.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

a/n: sobbing dhmu. im crying bc of my own fic FUCK

#kalim al asim x reader #kalim al asim #twisted wonderland kalim al asim #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #kalim x reader #x reader #twst imagines #twst kalim al asim #twst angst #twst fanfic #twst #female reader #angst #peter pan au #peter pan #HAPPY ANGST

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