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heliads · 11 hours

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Can you do Peter Pan x reader OUAT? Peter goes to the modern world with Emma, Snow, David and them as they are looking for someone. He meets this girl and takes an interest to her. He’s never seen someone with facial piercings, and dyed hair before, they come to realize she is the girl they’ve been looking for.

'magic finds magic' - peter pan

masterlist

Peter Pan is leaving Neverland. Worse, he’s leaving Neverland alongside Snow, Emma, David, and Hook. In terms of traveling partners, this has got to be the lowest of the low. However, the sand in Peter’s immortal hourglass is running out, and his first attempt at prolonging his life with the heart of Henry Mills didn’t exactly go according to plan. It’s this or nothing, even though Peter is starting to wonder if it would be better to just die than put up with these people any longer.

Never in his life did Peter Pan think he’d be working with the good guys. But never in his life did Peter think he’d be dying, either. A few compromises will have to be made in the name of preserving Peter’s everlasting life, and if that means he has to put up with some princesses and pirates for a few days, so be it. In no time at all, his immortal life will be restored, and he can go back to Neverland and put all of this behind him. Hopefully.

Peter was supposed to die back on Neverland. He was running out of time, anyway. He had set up the perfect scheme: kidnap Henry, disorient the boy’s rescuers on his island long enough to win the Heart of the Truest Believer, and cut the organ out of the boy’s chest if necessary. He’d almost gotten away with it, too, except he was foiled at the last minute. Heartbreaking. So unlike him.

For some reason, though, he hadn’t been left to die in the caverns of Skull Rock. Emma and the others had needed him, for some odd reason, and although none of them trust him in the slightest, they do trust Peter’s single-minded selfishness to keep himself alive. So they claim, at least, and so they had gotten a spell to give Peter one more week of life in exchange for help. If this plan works out, Peter will have a way to continue his immortal life without needing to murder Henry. If it doesn’t, or if he betrays them, he’ll die anyway.

He can feel it now, the pang of his close call with death. There’s a pain in his chest that wasn’t there before, a certain weakness in his lungs. Peter gets tired more easily. He feels– well, he feels like Henry and Emma. He feels mortal. Like he could die at any moment.

Peter has, obviously, thought about double-crossing them, maybe even triple-crossing them, but it’s no use. He feels shakily mortal right now, and Peter does not much enjoy the possibility of his own demise. This is the closest he’s ever come to being beaten, and Peter hates the feeling. He’ll have to play along for now, but after that, he will have his revenge.

First, though, Peter has to do what the others want. They’ve been careful to reveal as few details to him as possible, but the idea is solid. There’s a magical person somewhere in the modern world, in a city far from Storybrooke. This person is like the embodiment of a true love’s kiss spell, designed to renew hope in storybook characters through small acts of power that ultimately drive two needed people together. They’re like a guardian angel of those on the brink of destruction, which is exactly what Peter needs right now.

Peter has plenty of time to mull this over. They’ve forced him into a terrible, small room with awful carpets– an apartment, Emma called it– while they talk out what to do with both him and their missing spell-person. Peter is trying to focus, but he’s getting stared at by Henry Mills again, which is absolutely ruining his mood.

“What do you want?” Peter asks, glaring at the boy.

Henry just goggles back at him. “Don’t you feel bad for trying to kill me?”

Peter snorts. “Why would I do that?”

Henry shrugs. “You pretended you were my friend. I know you like the other Lost Boys on your island, I thought you would have felt bad for killing one of them. I guess not.”

“I don’t feel bad about killing someone so I would live,” Peter says, then wonders why he’s arguing with a child. “Go preach your morals to someone who wants to listen.”

“The others are busy,” Henry pouts.

Peter eyes him unhappily. “And what, I’m your best option for polite conversation? You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

Henry rolls his eyes. “I’d say you’re desperate. You’re the one who’s still talking to me.”

Peter can’t really argue with that, so he deftly changes the topic of conversation before Henry starts looking proud of himself again. “Tell me about our target again. You said you saw them before?”

“Only in a dream,” Henry admits, “but it was a clear dream, I swear. I saw a girl who looked about your age. She seemed like any other teenager, but there was something about her that was different. The way she spoke, maybe, or the glint in her eyes. She was magical, I’m sure of it. She can save Storybrooke.”

“And save me,” Peter reminds him. “That’s the important part.”

Henry rolls his eyes again. If he keeps that up, they’re going to get stuck like that forever. “Yes, I know, you’re only interested in keeping yourself alive. So long as it helps us find this girl, though, I don’t care.”

Peter leans forward. “What’s your plan for finding this girl, then? A little scouting party? This city is big. You’ll never find her.”

Henry shakes his head. “Magic has a way of finding magic. Somehow, our paths will cross.”

“That’s a terrible strategy,” Peter grouses. Why is he entrusting his life to this boy again? He remembers something about having no other options, but it doesn’t seem as good an excuse right now.

“Ask the adults, then,” Henry tells him, and gestures towards the miniscule apartment kitchen, where Emma, Snow, Hook, and David are currently huddled around a table, talking in hushed voices about what to do.

Not wanting to mess with the kid anymore, Peter pulls himself to his feet and heads over. “Tell me you have a plan,” he says.

The adults look up at him. “Find the girl,” Hook says shortly. “That’s our plan.”

Peter scoffs. “You could search this city for months and not find her. What if she doesn’t want to be found? If this girl has any brains at all, she’ll know that people will want her magic and she’ll hide. It’s what I would do.”

Emma sighs. “We don’t even know if this girl knows that she has magic. She’s probably just living an ordinary life, and we’re about to drag her out of it with all of our trouble.”

“Don’t tell me you feel bad for her,” Peter scolds her. “You want this, don’t you? So go get it, or I will.”

Snow tries to tell him to calm down, but David, so quick to anger when it comes to Peter, surges out of his chair. “How about you do something helpful and think with us instead of just insulting us?”

“I will do something helpful,” Peter informs him. “I’ll find her first.”

With that, he lunges for the apartment door, and is out of the tiny room and down the hall before they can stop him. Peter hears the thunder of footsteps after him, but he hurries down the stairs and out of the building. He has the advantage of being quick on his feet; if Neverland taught him anything, it’s how to run when you don’t want to be found.

Peter emerges into the bright sunshine of the city and stops dead in his tracks. He’s not used to the modern world, how the knives of its buildings slash up into the sky, how loud it is with those cars and signs and people. Peter swears he can even see metal things in the sky, soaring along predestined paths. It’s all so much compared to the world he used to know. No wonder some of the others had a hard time adjusting. His mortal heart lets out a pang of sympathy.

The door of the apartment building flies open, revealing Emma and the others hot on his trail. Peter curses under his breath and takes off in one direction, hurtling around pedestrians and shooting down the sidewalk. He heads for smaller streets, hoping to lose them in a swarm of alleyways. The others, more used to the terrain of the modern city, are gaining on him, and Peter is just starting to think that he’ll never be able to shake them when someone grabs him and pulls him into a nearby building.

Peter’s first instinct is to defend himself, but when he isn’t attacked, he realizes that the stranger is only trying to help him. There’s a window just to his left, and Peter watches Emma and the others appear seconds after him. They didn’t see him enter the shop, and keep sprinting down the road in the direction they thought he’d gone. Peter waits a few more intense moments, then decides that he’s lost them for good and turns back around to see who’s gone to the trouble of rescuing him.

He’s greeted with the sight of a girl about his age. She’s eyeing him cautiously, although the corners of her lips begin to prick up with a wicked grin. “Sorry for the rough introduction, but you looked like you needed some help,” she tells him.

Peter lets out a short laugh. “I’m glad to be rid of them, that’s for sure.”

The girl arches a brow. “What, did they catch you shoplifting? I’ve never seen people run that fast unless they were getting chased by the cops.”

Peter narrows his eyes, trying to figure out how on earth he would lift a shop, then decides it’s probably some slang term he doesn’t know. “Something like that,” he says evasively.

He studies the girl’s face to see if he’d answered correctly, and, judging by her impressed grin, he had. “Nice,” she says. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Peter,” he replies. He gets the urge to introduce himself as he usually would– Peter, Peter Pan– then remembers at the last second that Emma had warned him about telling people who he was. Apparently, telling people he was a fictional character in their world wouldn’t go over too well.

“Peter,” the girl repeats. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Peter says, and realizes belatedly that he means it. He feels like how he had at the start of it all, when the Lost Boys had first started appearing on this island, but this feeling is far stronger. He wants to get to know this girl. He certainly doesn’t want her to leave.

“I’m new to the city,” he says abruptly. “Any chance you could show me around?”

Y/N laughs, surprised. “You’re new and you’re already in trouble? You’ll fit right in, Peter.”

He grins, in on the joke a half beat late. “I like to have fun, that’s all.”

“Well,” Y/N says, starting to lead him back towards the door of the shop, “I like fun, too. Maybe we should stick together.”

“I’d like that,” Peter says, then wonders why he’s being so honest all of a sudden. When he sees Y/N’s smile– real this time, not sarcastic or joking, but genuinely because of him– he thinks he knows why.

The two of them step back out into the light. “Where to first?” Peter asks.

“I was going to ask you that,” Y/N replies. “What do you want to do? Sightseeing, maybe? We can get some food, or just talk.”

“Anything,” he says. He’d follow her anywhere. The feeling in him right now is like nothing he’s ever felt before. The pain in his chest, Peter realizes with some surprise, is gone. He feels immortal. Like living in this one moment could last forever.

They end up spending the next few hours together. Y/N shows him around the city, taking Peter to her favorite spots. Peter stares at the vast cityscape and finally starts to understand why someone might choose the modern world over the natural one. He’ll always pick Neverland first, of course, but seeing the world through Y/N’s eyes, it makes sense.

The two of them get along like a house on fire. Y/N’s got this rebellious streak to her that fits in perfectly with Peter’s, well, Peter-ness. No joke is too dark, no sarcastic comment too caustic. They feel the same. Peter doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who thinks so much like him.

As the sun starts to set in the sky, Peter feels his spirits sinking. He doesn’t want to let go of this day, not when he knows it can never happen again. He’s supposed to be finding Henry’s spell-girl, but all Peter wants to do is spend more time with Y/N.

His mood is especially ruined when they turn a corner and find Henry Mills walking towards them. Peter’s eyes widen and he tries to steer Y/N back in the direction they’d come, but it’s too late. Henry lets out an audible gasp and starts hurrying towards them.

“Peter,” Henry calls out when he’s close enough to talk, “We’ve been looking for you all over! Where have you been?”

Y/N glances at Henry dubiously. “Who’s this?”

“My little brother,” Peter blurts out.

At the same time, Henry chimes in, “My friend from school.”

Peter shoots the younger boy a quick glare, then turns back to Y/N. “Both, actually. He’s my step-brother. Recent marriage. We’re still getting acclimated. Our family is a little chaotic.”

“You can say that again,” Henry mumbles. Peter fights the urge to butcher him.

While Peter silently advises himself on why murder would be bad at a time like this, Henry stares openly at Y/N. All of a sudden, the boy’s mouth hangs open. “Oh my gosh, it’s you.”

Y/N’s brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

All of a sudden, Peter feels a sick sensation in his stomach. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.

“You’re the girl from my dream,” Henry announces. “We’ve been looking for you.”

Y/N looks back at Peter. “What’s he talking about?”

The open, carefree expression, which had been on her face all day, is starting to be replaced with deep, unsettled fear. Peter hates to see it directed at him. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he begins. “Something about yourself.”

“You’re sounding a little creepy right now,” Y/N warns him. “Get to the point.”

“Alright,” Peter says. “You’re magical. So am I. We need your help to break a curse and save my life. How about that?”

Y/N shakes her head quickly. “This is crazy. Magic isn’t real.”

Peter can’t lose her, not like this, so he leans forward and holds out his hand. A ball of light appears inside his cupped fingers, glowing and bright. It’s a simple charm, one of the first he learned, but it has the desired effect.

Y/N stares at it, transfixed, and when she speaks again, her voice is hushed. “That’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” Peter says. “Not magic. Not even the fact that you would find me in this city by accident. Magic is drawn to magic.”

Y/N’s eyes slowly raise to meet his. “This is real, then. I have magic.”

“You have magic,” Peter confirms. “Come with us, we can show you. They’re good people, Y/N. You can trust them.”

It’s the closest he’s ever come to honesty. For once, Peter isn’t playing a game. He isn’t trying to trick Y/N over to his side. He just wants her to be safe, and he knows that isn’t through lies.

Y/N smiles at him. “I trust you, Peter. That’s enough for me.”

She reaches over and takes his hand. Now that he’s focusing on it, Peter can feel the slow loop of her magic when they touch. It feels like power, but more than that, it feels like life. A life with her, maybe. A life for both of them.

ouat tag list: @loveanimals0000, @eclliipsed, @w1shes43, @lost-ender

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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hannahhook7744 · 2 years

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Stolen away;

Summary; the story of how Harry Hook was stolen away from his parents, Captain Swan, and taken to another dimension along with his uncle Chad-- only to be returned to them years later.

Trigger warning; Kidnapping 2x, feelings of loneliness, crying, attempts at self multiation, child neglect, child abuse, etc.

Tag; @cosette141 .

🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

Harrison David Jones was born to the savior and the legendary Caprain Hook on October 22nd, like his mother before him.

23 years after his half brother, Henry, was born.

9 years after his uncle, Leo, was born.

5 years after his sister, Hope, was born.

Roughly 2 1/2 months after his uncle, Chadwick, was born.

And from the moment he was born, he had everyone wrapped around his little finger.

"Are we sure he's not a clone? Because he looks just like you, Killian" Emma joked softly, smiling down at the positively tiny bundle in her arms.

"I rather hope he doesn't look just like me. I'd hate to explain to your parents why our newborn has a beard" the pirate captain quipped back, shooting her a mischievous grin.

"Oh stop it" the blonde swatted him lightly with one hand, holding their son in the other as she rolled her eyes.

"Ok, ok" He raised his hook and hand up in surrender "but in all seriousness luv, he's not a clone of me. You wanna know how I know?"

Emma raised an eyebrow "besides the obvious you mean?"

"Aye."

"Well, color me intrigued. Go on then. Tell me how you know he's not a mini clone of you"

Killian leaned over her shoulders and carefully pulled back the edge of the towel that was covering their son's face before pointing at it. "There. Right there. He has your face. Your skin tone. Your ears--"

"You know what my ears look like?"

Including his very own infant uncle, who somehow managed to always pop up wherever Harrison happened to be.

Chadwick laid curled around Harrison, pale chin resting atop strains of black hair. Curly blonde hair sticking up all over the place, arms wrapped around the smaller infant in his to-go crib that Emma got for when he was staying over at her parents for the night.

David let out a sigh of relief and called out to his wife, who was still frantically searching through the living room with their other son and granddaughter.

"Found him!"

which is why everyone was devastated the day they disappeared-- almost 2 years after Harrison was born-- and every day after.

The day had started out like every day before it.

Killian arose with the sun, changed into his work clothes, and changed Harrison's diaper before carting him and his toy hook off to the kitchen were he settled him down in his highchair.

From which Harrison babbled at him as he made breakfast. Happy and unable to sit still, an urge to escape and explore rushing through his veins as Hope shuffled in. Hair a mess as she placed a kiss on Harrison's forehead-- their 3 legged golden retriever, Indiana Bones, hot on her trail.

Emma following not long after, half asleep and ready for work.

They ate breakfast, put the dishes in the sink, and got the kids ready for the day ahead.

Dropping Hope off at school where Snow and little Neal ,or Leo as he preferred, were waiting to walk her in like they did every day before doing the same with Harrison at the day care. Where a very excited Chadwick was waiting with a frazzled looking Nova.

They went to the station, greeted David, and got to work. Doing paperwork, answering calls, going out into the field. Nothing major occurring. Nothing to clue them on what was about to happen.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY'RE GONE?!" Emma yelled almost frantic at the nun, craining her neck to see into the empty classroom.

"Emma, I know you're upset--"

If it wasn't for Killian, the blonde was sure she would have throttled the woman in front of her. The woman who was supposed to have been watching her baby brother and son. The same woman who was now saying that they were gone and she didn't know where they went.

"I mean they're gone. Not here" Nova replied meekly, not looking at the duo. "You... you picked them up hours ago.."

"WELL OBVIOUSLY I DIDN'T BECAUSE I'VE BEEN AT WORK WITH MY HUSBAND AND FATHER ALL DAY!" Emma snapped, as Killian pulled her back. Already texting Her parents and Henry, telling them to get a search party ready.

"It was you! A-at least she looked like you..." Nova protested weakly. "How was I supposed to know she wasn't you?"

The savior had to admit that the nun had a point. But that didn't quell the fury she felt at all. So she just spun around and stormed out, tears welling up in her eyes before she said something she'd regret.

They didn't find them.

Not after a hour. Not after a day. Not after a week. Not after a month or a year. Or 10.

They didn't find them alive or dead. They didn't find the toys they had brought with them that day or the clothes they had worn. Not even a shoe.

No one knew whether that was better than finding any of that or not. All any one knew was that the two boys were gone, seemingly without a trace.

And that broke their family's heart.

Year after year passed, with Emma and Killian unable to move on from their search for Harrison and Chadwick.

With them lamenting all of the time and milestones they were missing.

No one knew who was more of a wreck. Emma and Killian or Snow and David. All anyone knew was that they missed their boys.

Wherever they were.

"I dream about them, you know" Emma whispered to him one sleepless night as they laid in bed. Too tired to get up but too sad to sleep.

"Who?" Killian asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"Harrison and Chadwick."

"Oh? What are they like? The dreams I mean?" He questioned, eager to know more. Needing something to take his mind off of the dark places it kept venturing into.

"They're... oddly colorful. Like eye bleeding levels of colorful that doesn't fit the vibe of the places they show." He leaned closer to her, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close.

"And the places. They're... lonely..."

"Lonely?" Killian asked baffled.

"Like, both places are full to the brim with people but every one is on edge. Their walls up high. Like mine were"

"Oh.."

"And the boys, they're separated. One in each place. Harrison's on a flithy island with 3 girls he calls his sisters and a crew to back him... And Chadwick's in a castle, surrounded by people who call themselves' his friends. A-and they're both fighting a silent losing battle with themselves, knowing they don't quite belong but not knowing why" Emma began to tear up, feeling hopeless.

Killian wanted to comfort her but didn't know how. How could he, when he was feeling just as hopeless and worthless as she was?

Every so often, Emma would mention these dreams of hers but only ever to him.

Chadwick's insecure and is starting to bully other children.

Harrison is losing his sanity and keeps trying to get a crocodile to bite off his hand.

The adults they live with aren't good to them. Chadwick's guardians ignore him in favor of their biological daughter and Harrison's has fits of rage where he slashes at him and the girls with his hook.

The boys cry themselves to sleep every night.

They keep getting rejected by the boys and girls they like.

Chadwick tried to get a girl expelled because of her parentage after using her to cheat.

Harrison and his crew kidnapped a boy king.

Harrison still has his hook and jumped in polluted, shark and crocodile infested water after it.

Chadwick teamed up with the girl who broke his heart to get revenge on the kingdom only to be mistreated by her.

Harrison fought a group of knights and helped save a kingdom and free Chadwick.

Killian both savored and dreaded every dream Emma shared with him. Not sure whether or not these dreams were healthy or if even entertaining the idea that they might be real was cause for concern.

Not sure whether or not he wanted the dreams to be real.

Not sure whether or not this was a sign that the boys were alive and making their way back to them.

He soon got his answer, 17 years after the boys had been lost, when the doorbell rang on his and Emma's day off.

Killian reluctantly got up and answered the door, with Emma right behind him. Befuddled by the sight that met them.

Because there, on the porch, was a small group of people young adults. A boy dressed in red, white, and black standing at the front-- fidgeting with a hand held hook. He had Killian's eyes, nose, and hair. And Emma's face and ears.

And that nervous smile of his, a mix of their own. As blue eyes met blue eyes. "Hi. I'm Harr'. Harr' Hook... and yer son"

And behind him stood a boy with long curly, dirty, blood hair and familiar eyes dressed in blue. Grinning like her mother did.

"Hello sister of mine".

At long last, their prayers had been answered. Their boys were home.

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wontune · 5 months

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✰ ゙ Felix [ stray kids ] lockscreens ‹‹

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poisonappleeater · 22 days

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currently filled with thoughts of regina from s2 and 3… she was everything

#once upon a time #ouat #regina mills #I NEED HER #WRITING A ONESHOT RN BTW FOR A REQUEST #SO PU WHEN I POST IT POOKIES #the outfits??? the hair length??? her still being slightly cold??? DEAR GODDD #om nom nom nom

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miryum · 2 years

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Dating Peter Pan Headcanons

When you first come to Neverland, Peter and the rest of the Lost Boys are apprehensive, to say the least

But, once you prove you can hear his pipe, they know you’re meant to stay

After a week or two, they get used to you- involving you in games, activities, hunting, or whatever they do

Peter, however, is still wary. You stay out of his way and he stays out of yours

You mostly hang out with your friend, Ayden (an OC of mine! 😁)

You two (you and Ayden) would run through the forest, laughing and sparring. Making jabs at each other, you were always in fits of laughter during the bonfire

You first caught Peter’s eye when you were dancing with Ayden

You looked so free, moving with the music and dancing from boy to boy. You were being whipped from hand to hand, each boy shouting in excitement when you got to them

Peter weaves through the boy, playing his pipe, slowly making his way to you

You’re laughing with Ayden, teaching the boy a fun dance

“Y/n?” He cuts in and Ayden slips away

“Yeah Pan?”

“How are you doing?” He leads you away from the fire

You’re a little suspicious of his behavior and worry that he might kick you off of Neverland “I’m good…” You say, “You?”

“I’m good. Your dancing is wonderful to watch.”

“Thank you.” You smile, knowing that this was the first time he had complimented you, “Have you ever danced with us before?”

“I don’t dance.” Pan shakes his head, “I’m just the musician.”

“You’re a very good musician,” You say, “But you should try dancing. It’s fun, especially with the right person.”

“And who’s the right person?” Peter tilts his head to the side, smirking

“You’ll never know until you dance. Come on.”

And so you take Pan’s hand and pull him towards the fire. He stumbles after you, holding back a chuckle

Dragging Pan around, you whirl around him, laughing and clapping along to the music

Pan has the faintest hint of a smile on his face, but he indulges you by twirling you around and guiding you through the dance moves

That night, Pan and you got considerably closer, and after that night, he took special interest in you

Pan would seek you out more, watching you carefully from across camp. He would supervise your trainings, personally giving you suggestions to improve your fighting skills. You would sometimes see him in the trees, analyzing your and Ayden’s fights

It wasn’t long before Pan challenged you to a sword fight and asked you out in the only way he knew how: trapping you up against a tree, knife to your throat, and kissing the life outta you

You quickly break from his hold, counter his attack, press him up a tree, and kiss him back

That was the moment you’re pretty sure he fell in love

But, like the “gentleman” he is, he asked you to be his girl first

You said yes, obviously 🙄

And let the relationship begin *waves green starting flag crazily as if this is a car race*

Peter lets you, and only you, call him Peter. No one else

Has a ton of nicknames for you. Some include: Love, Darling, and some shortened form of your name

We all know that Peter would be super protective over you- like to a point where it could get a bit annoying

I do think that he would trust the Lost Boys more but NOT the new ones

He would make it adamantly clear that you two were together and he might pull them aside and threaten them if they looked at you for too long

One example of when he was overprotective is when you were taken by pirates

Oof.

Peter was pissed.

He comes in with all of the Lost Boys. A full attack on this one pirate ship.

The Lost Boys are very excited for a fight, but some of them are actually furious because they really cared for you

Peter flies in with pixie dust and personally fights the Captain off with his dagger

You’re tied to the mast (cliche, I know) and were slowly sawing your way through the ropes with a nail you had pried from a floorboard

However, once you see Peter, your face lights up and you knew you were saved

Peter fights the Captain with such ferocity that you’re sure he loves you

(And to be honest, Peter is super hot when fighting)

His face is tightened in a glare and his muscles are flexing as he lunged and dove at the Captain

Finally, all of the pirates are subdued and Peter beats the Captain

The second Peter parries the Captain’s sword away, he runs towards you and breaks the ropes

Hugging you tightly, that’s the first time Peter tells you he loves you

And believe me, he tells you that a lot

Peter flies you back to Neverland and you two spend the night together

NOT LIKE THAT! Just cuddling and stuff, but since it’s an awesome segway, let’s talk about what Peter would be like in bed

This fic is already super long, but here we go:

Peter is a very passionate and rough lover

His sex drive is always on high, so he’s ready to f*ck anytime and anywhere

Let’s just say that was the first time you had sex in a forest.

The first time you and Peter “did it” he tried to take it slower and softer, but he could only hold off for so long

So when you asked him if the two of you could try a little rougher, he jumped at the chance

Literally. He made you a moaning mess in less than five minutes

Peter has very good stamina- he could go for hours if you let him

Sometimes you do let him but other times you have to stop him because the Lost Boys are wondering where the two of you are

Even though he’s a rough lover, he does love you with all his heart and has a soft side

One of his favorite things is when you play with his hair. He loves it when he lays on you or his head is in your lap

He doesn’t show this side of him in public (not huge on PDA) but he does allow you to kiss him on the cheek or maybe a peck on the lips

Sometimes he likes to sit a little farther away from the bonfire and tries to catch your lips in between laughs

You and Peter don’t fight often

You’re calmer and not as… deadly as Peter (though if you are as deadly as him, then you go girl. Be that power couple) but you can get emotional and fierce about certain topics, so when you do fight, it can get a little… loud

The Lost Boys learned never to interrupt your fights after both of you screamed at Ayden when he tried to help

Fights usually end in either of two ways:

1. Angry sex.

2. You yelling a really good point for your argument, asking him why he couldn’t see it from your point of view, and then storming out

If it ended in angry sex, you two would probably make up during after-care or push the argument off until a later time

If it ended with you being right (which you were all the time), Peter would start to see where he went wrong and then go after you

You might end up at his Thinking Tree or with Ayden comforting you

Either way, both of you would apologize and everything would end up fine

You two balance each other in the best way and you bring out the best in Peter

You would never trade you life on Neverland for anything

You love Peter and he loves you back with his whole heart

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jahayla-parker · 2 months

Text

Practice Run: Freddy Carter x Reader

Part of Love of a Lifetime Mini-Series

Warnings: this part has some suggestive scenes/behaviors.

For full warnings and description, see mini-series masterlist

3.2k wc

Freddy ran his hand down the back of y/n’s neck and to her middle back as he moved to sit beside her. “‘ere, let me help”. When she smiled over at him, he grinned back and took a small stack of fabric. “The way we studied on Pinterest, right?” Freddy confirmed, eyeing the folded napkins y/n had completed.

Y/n hummed and nodded. “You were right, it did get easier after the first few,” she commented lovingly. “So I redid the first few,” she added with a laugh.

Freddy chuckled and shook his head. He placed a tender kiss to y/n’s temple before turning his attention back to his current task. He’d helped get his groomsmen going on properly setting up the seating for the ceremony tomorrow moments ago. So now he was able to return to his fiancée’s side and help her with the task she’d chosen to start with.

Y/n giggled as she watched Freddy’s nose scrunch up in slight frustration. She leaned over and placed her hands on top of his that were holding the cloth and pressed them down to the table gently. With a smile, she then moved her hands to Freddy’s shoulders and turned him to face her. She giggled more as he gave her a sheepish smile. Y/n leaned forward and kissed his pouting lips. “They look fine, honey,” she encouraged sweetly.

Freddy smiled from the kiss. But his expression changed into a dramatically skeptical one as y/n tried to reassure him his napkin folding wasn’t as tragic as he knew it was. He couldn’t help but smile as her laughter rang out in the air again upon seeing his nonverbal disagreement.

“Here,” y/n spoke gently as she took hold of Freddy’s hands. “It’s easier if you do it like this,” she advised. She guided her fiancé’s hands as she instructed him on how to best handle the task. They’d both searched Pinterest weeks ago to decide which style of cloth napkins they liked best and had studied how to complete the style they’d chosen. However, y/n had quickly found a simple trick that made it much easier.

Freddy smiled and nodded as y/n’s hands left his; one napkin from his stack complete. “Thank you, darling,” he said, quickly pulling another piece of cloth to him.

“What’s next?” Y/n questioned aloud as she spun around frantically.

Freddy watched y/n with an amused smile. “Right now?” He clarified, moving closer to her. He set his hands on her shoulders to keep her from twirling around again as she tried to think.

“Mhm,” y/n answered, her eyes scanning the dining hall to see what they still had to do.

“Right now,” Freddy hummed, lowering his hands to his side now that y/n wasn’t pacing in circles. “I think you should kiss me,” he smirked.

Y/n promptly turned around to face Freddy. She gave him a smug smile before she pulled him in for a kiss. She giggled against his lips as he pulled her closer while kissing her back.

Y/n shifted the charger plate slightly as she worked on the current table. She was making final adjustments to the table settings their bridal party had set up. She was just about to move to the next table when she received a hurried kiss to her temple. She beamed as she straightened her back to stand up straight. Y/n’s eyes admiringly watched Freddy’s fleeting frame as he continued to rushed to whatever task he was currently working on.

Freddy watched from afar as y/n stood at the end of the dining hall, clearly looking over the scene. He quietly strode over to her, analyzing her facial expressions as she studied the room. He smiled as he made his way to her, a satisfied smile on her face. He pressed a light kiss to her left shoulder before wrapping his right arm around her waist to guide her to his side. “Pleased?” He questioned in a whisper.

“Beyond,” y/n murmured warmly as she snuggled into Freddy’s side. She smiled and rested her head on the side of his upper chest. Everything looked perfect. And she was so excited for tomorrow.

Y/n smirked to herself as she watched Freddy set up the welcome sign. His tongue was preciously sticking out slightly as he concentrated intently on making sure it was centered. As he stepped back to analyze his work, y/n shook her head lovingly. “Get over here, cutie,” she warmly commanded, staring over at her fiancé.

Freddy grinned proudly as he lifted his gaze to meet y/n’s. He blushed faintly upon noticing that others around them had heard her comment. But he didn’t truly care, he was more than okay with it. After all, he had the world’s most beautiful woman calling him cute. What was there to be shy about?

Y/n noticed the way Freddy’s cheeks briefly flushed in reaction to her compliment. “I’m not scared to admit my fiancé is so insanely adorable,” she defended, wrapping her send around his back to pull him to her. Upon seeing his blush deepen, she tsked playfully. “Don’t act like you don’t know how pretty you are, Freddy.” Y/n beamed at the prideful smile her fiancé now donned and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Be careful,” Freddy gushed as his hands quickly found their way to y/n’s back. She was in the middle of hanging up some final touches, but in doing so, she was standing on a ladder. He knew she was likely going to be fine, but he couldn’t help but be slightly concerned that no one was around to make sure of it. After noticing her bridesmaids were busy working on the decorations in another area and not just ignoring her needs, he relaxed some. But it wasn’t until she stepped off the ladder and into his arms that Freddy’s protective worry fully subsided.

“Freddy!” Y/n scolded despite her giggling. She had been absentmindedly standing in the center of the ballroom’s dance floor, mentally checking off the remaining preparations for tomorrow, when the flash from her fiancé’s camera caught her attention.

Freddy blushed and bit his lip upon having been caught. But, as he made his way over to y/n he shrugged and smiled innocently. “You are so stunning, I couldn’t help myself,” he defended, pressing his lips to her cheek.

Y/n’s giggles echoed around the room while she squirmed in Freddy’s arms as he relentlessly tickled her. “Fr-Freddy,” she whispered through her gasps and giggles, “we’re not done yet”. She looked to the right as she watched her maid of honor smile in her direction before she stepped back into the main hall to continue setting up. Y/n heard Freddy playfully state that he didn’t care as he continued to tickle her sides; all while being sure to keep her from falling over.

When he noticed y/n was getting slightly out of breath, Freddy slowed his tickling until it came to a stop. He wrapped his arms securely around her waist and placed his chin in the crook of her neck. “Will you marry me?”

Y/n laughed loudly as she turned around in Freddy’s arms so she could face him. “Mmm, I’ll think about it,” she answered coyly.

Freddy’s shock was clear on his face as he began laughing. “You’ll ‘think about it’, hmm?” He teased. When she simply laughed more and nodded in response, he grinned and shook his head. “I guess I’ll just have to convince you then, hmm?”

Y/n bit her lip and innocently blinked at Freddy. “You can try,” she joked.

Freddy gasped, his eyes wide and mouth parted in disbelief. He chuckled and smirked as an idea formed. It took less than a few seconds for him to pick her up and set her on the bar counter.

It was now y/n’s turn to gasp. She giggled and clutched onto the material of his dress shirt as she steadied her hand on his shoulder. “Freddy!”

Freddy smirked, a visible shine to his eyes as he moved closer. He slotted himself between y/n’s legs, his right palm resting on the bar counter while his left hand caressed her cheek. He closed his eyes and hummed as he began to press sweet but lustful open-mouthed kisses across her forehead. He craned his neck to each side as he tenderly kissed her temples. Freddy then tilted her head up before moving his kisses down to her eyelids. He selfishly took his sweet time kissing all along her skin.

Next was her cheeks.

Then her earlobes.

Then her nose.

Her jawline.

Her neck.

Her collarbone.

As Freddy’s slightly hungry lips met her clavicle, y/n gave into the urge for her lips to meet his. She gently tilted his head up until his loving gaze lifted to her eyes. She silently but assertively pulled his mouth to hers, her hands instantaneously moving to his hair.

Y/n moaned lightly against Freddy’s lips, making him grin smugly. He moved his hands to her lower back and tugged her closer. Her butt was now resting on the edge of the bar’s counter, but his waist was pinned against it, keeping her from falling off. Y/n locked her legs behind Freddy’s hips and used them to force him closer. He echoed y/n’s earlier moan as his chest slid into hers and his hips grazed against her inner thighs. It was now y/n’s turn to smugly grin into the kiss .

“Woah,” Tom, Freddy’s older brother gushed as he sauntered back into the room. “Alright you two, save it for the honeymoon,” he joked with a wink. He shook his head playfully as he turned to grab the checklist y/n’s maid of honor was looking for.

Y/n and Freddy froze and bashfully detangled themselves from one another. He helped y/n down from the counter and straightened her clothes and hair for her. He smiled lovingly as he gazed down at her. “Would it be incorrect to assume you’re convinced?” He teased, seeing the dazed look in his fiancée’s eyes.

Y/n laughed and smoothened Freddy’s hair back out. She rose to her tippy toes and kissed his nose. “I never needed any convincing.” She lowered herself back to the soles of her feet and took his hand in hers. “I’ve been waiting for you all my life,” she said as she went to leave to help their loved ones finish.

Freddy shook his head and pulled on y/n’s hand, spinning her back to him. He bent his head slightly until his lips were at her level. He smiled and kissed her yet again, this time purely filled with love. While they knew they still had some more work to do, when they parted they simply gazed into each other’s eyes, smiling lightly.

“Do you mind if we stay like this a little longer?” Y/n asked as she stood in the entryway, wrapped up in Freddy’s arms. She smiled happily when her fiancé shook his head and held her tighter.

“Alright mates, what’s next?” Thomas, one of Freddy’s groomsmen asked, walking up to the couple.

Freddy wrapped his arms tighter around y/n before answering. “Nothing, you’re all dismissed,” he stated. “In fact, can you tell the rest? We’re going to take a moment to ourselves”. He kissed y/n’s cheek as Thomas nodded and smiled widely at the pair before exiting.

“We have to get ready for the rehearsal dinner,” y/n spoke up begrudgingly as she rested her head in the crook of Freddy’s neck.

“Hmm, they can wait a bit,” Freddy argued simply. “We still have some time, they’ve all got to change still,” he reminded y/n. He held her closer to him smiling as she hummed in agreement and snuggled closer to him.

“Can you zip me?” Y/n asked as she turned to face her fiancé. She had changed out of her white button up blouse and into an elegant black dress.

Freddy wore a smile as he dutifully spun towards y/n. “‘Course, love,” he cooed, stepping closer to help. He gently turned her around so her bank was to him. His fingers gripped the zipper and slowly pulled it up until he could secure the hidden clasp at the top of the seam. Once finished, his eyes lifted until he was able to proudly admire y/n through the mirror.

Y/n smiled back at Freddy through the mirror. She let out a soft sigh and leaned back against him. Her hands were placed over his as he held her waist. “I can’t wait to marry you,” she whispered after a brief silence.

Freddy’s smile grew. “Thank you for saying yes,” he commented happily.

“Thank you for asking,” y/n retorted softly. She closed her eyes as she let her body melt backwards into Freddy’s embrace.

Freddy beamed as he gazed down at y/n. He was truly the luckiest man. He pressed a delicate kiss to the side of her head.

Y/n opened her eyes at the contact. Instead of looking at Freddy through the mirror, she tilted her head back into his chest to peer up at him.

Meanwhile, Freddy was still watching y/n and himself through the mirror. He blushed as he noticed the loving look in her eyes as she peered up at him. “Ready my darling?” He asked quietly.

“Ready,” y/n hummed.

“That went well,” y/n sighed with relief. She was thoroughly pleased with the walkthrough rehearsal of the procession and everything they’d just completed with their bridal party.

Freddy simply nodded as he tried to refocus.

Y/n noticed Freddy’s uncharacteristic silence and turned to see him better. She frowned on seeing his eyes were watering a bit. She quickly became worried and decided to lead him away from their guests who were mingling and dishing up. “Freddy, honey,” she cooed, squeezing his hand as she pulled him to a more private part of the room.

Freddy’s best men, his brothers, both smiled as they watched the scene unfold. It was sweet that y/n was so protective and worried about their brother Freddy. But, the brothers also knew why Freddy was tearing and they knew it wasn’t a bad thing. They were both happy for the couple and shared a pleased expression before they went to help their parents get some dinner.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Y/n asked, voice full of concern. “Was it the order of the groups? I thought you wanted Mikey and Will next to each other, but we can change-“ she began, hoping to find a solution to her fiancé’s sadness.

Freddy cut y/n’s worries off with a kiss. When he pulled back, he felt that the tears in his eyes had been to escape and quietly roll down his cheeks.

“Freddy,” y/n cooed again, quickly drying Freddy’s tears. “Talk to me, please,” she requested. “What’s wrong?”.

Freddy shook his head. “Nothing,” he said with a breathy chuckle, still in disbelief at how luck he was.

Y/n squinted as she analyzed Freddy’s facial expressions. “Handsome, I don’t-,” she mumbled in worried confusion.

“I’m just really happy,” Freddy answered in a whisper.

Y/n blinked slowly as she began to relax. “Really? That’s why you’re tearing up?” She asked with a wide smile.

Freddy nodded in confirmation and snaked his arms around y/n’s waist, setting his interlocked hands just above her tailbone. “Seeing you walk down that aisle,” he reminisced as he shook his head, starting to tear up again.

“Awe, Freddy,” y/n hummed. She pulled him in for a tight hug. “I love you so much, sunshine,” she whispered, holding him snugly.

Freddy returned y/n’s secure grip. “I love you too, my darling”.

When y/n pulled back, she met Freddy’s eyes. She hummed quietly as she dried the last of his happy tears.

Freddy grinned warmly at the action.

“Much better,” y/n commented lovingly. The heels she’d put on for tonight allowed her to not have to stretch upwards so much as she went to kiss his forehead.

“Let’s get you some food,” Freddy suggested, reconnected to the present moment. He shifted their stance so his hand was resting on the small of y/n’s back as he guided them to the dining tables. “Cannot have my darling bride be hungry,” he commented with a smile.

“He was, and still is, so smitten,” Freddy’s mate Mikey laughed as he concluded his story. “Obviously, he’d do anything for her, no matter how embarrassing it might look in the process,” he teased, grinning as Freddy’s cheeks flushed again. “In all seriousness though, I am very happy for you mate, I know you two cherish each other more than one could ever imagine, cheers!”

“You’re supposed to save those toasts and embarrassing stories for after the ceremony,” Freddy scolded playfully. “Then she can’t back out,” he commented knowing full-well his cheeks were crimson thanks to Mikey’s cheeky story.

Y/n laughed and shook her head. She snuggled into Freddy, holding onto his bicep. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, peaking up at him.

“Good,” Mikey smirked. “‘Cause, don’t worry mate,” he said, grinning wickedly at Freddy. “I’ve got plenty more stories and toasts to give after the ceremony tomorrow”.

Y/n’s friend, y/f/n abruptly stood as Mikey returned to his seat. “If he’s going to say something now, I will too,” she grinned, winking over at the couple.

“Oh God,” y/n mumbled, closing her eyes.

Freddy laughed softly. He looked over at her lovingly and kissed her head as her friend began to tell everyone how y/n was after he’d taken her on their first date years ago.

After dessert and everyone wishing the couple endless congratulations and best wishes, the evening came to an end. Meaning the couple was now standing a few meters from the main doorway, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Do we really have to sleep apart tonight?” Y/n asked rhetorically as she frowned up at Freddy while he held her.

“No, not if you don’t want to, darling,” Freddy reassured.

Y/n sighed softly as she felt the eyes of her friend and Freddy’s brothers on them. She knew they were waiting for them to part for the night so everyone could go home to rest before the big day tomorrow. “I think it’s out of our hands,” she laughed lightly.

Freddy hummed as he peered over at the group who were trying to pretend they were not watching the couple as they waited. “It’s not up to them, my dear,” he argued. “It’s up to us”.

Y/n lazily shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I can handle one night alone,” she sighed dramatically, “for the sake of tradition”.

Freddy chuckled and kissed y/n’s forehead. “I don’t know if I agree,” he replied playfully. “But, anything for you, darling,” he said with a dramatic bow. He grinned as she began to laugh. Once he stood back up, he tenderly pulled her closer. “But tomorrow night, it’s me and you.” “And no one is going to convince me to part from you,” he whispered in her ear.

Y/n bashfully bit her lip and unnecessarily hid in Freddy’s coat collar. The action made him hum with a chuckle before he kissed the back of her head. She leaned back and cupped his face. “I love you, Freddy,” she smiled, “goodnight handsome”.

Freddy grinned widely. “I love you too, gorgeous, get some rest honey, I’ll see you tomorrow”. He gently kissed her one last time before letting her go, looking at the group as they headed over to separate the couple for the remainder of the night before their wedding.

Y/n peaked back over her shoulder at Freddy as she departed. Catching sight of her gaze, he winked. She gleefully giggled to herself as she turned her head back around and followed y/f/n out of the door.

Taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @missdreamofendless @nikfigueiredo @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @alex-kazbrekkersimp @opheliaofficial07 @historynerd77 @el-de-phi

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thewxtchwhowrites · 8 months

Text

Hi 💖✨

I'm back after a long time of being a silent reader of one-shots and fics (I have some of them that I would love to recommend), and also thanks to those authors for making wonderful works.

Anyway.

That led me to the conclusion of making my own Masterlist of my one-shots and fics, mainly to have more order in my blog and because I really want to write again because I LOVE to write.

🔥 = smut

(ES) = español

(EN) = english

Dean Winchester

Don't Boss me around - 1 & 2

Hold On

Sam Winchester

Positions - Old and New version

Castiel

Lucid Dreaming - One Shot

Bucky Barnes

Bus Stop (EN)

The winner takes it all

Healed (requested)

Loki Laufeyson (soon)

Steven Grant (soon)

Marc Spector (soon)

Eddie Munson

Hit the Pedal, Heavy Metal - 1 & 2

Lee Bodecker (soon)

Charles Blackwood (soon)

Jefferson Hatter (soon)

Graham (soon)

Hook / Killian Jones (soon)

August Booth / Pinocchio (soon)

Nick Fowler

Dangerous Woman

PD: I'll probably re-write some one-shots (improve grammar and even plot, so stay tuned), but don't worry, I won't delete the original.

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vayereliyanin · 10 months

Text

"Jealousy"

Everything changed when Peter brought a girl named Wendy Darling to Nerverland. He became distant and was more around Wendy.

What was so special about that girl? Something was it, if she got the attention from Peter.

I sat by the fire eating my lunch. I was staring at Peter and Wendy. They looked so happy together and that hurt my heart. I felt someone beside me and saw Felix.

"Hey are you okay?" He asked softly.

"No" I said, my voice breaking. I got up from the log I was sitting on and hurried away from there to my tent before anyone could see my tears. I didn't want anyone to see me crying. I collapsed on my bed and buried my face in my pillow and cried silently. I loved Peter very much. I thought we had something because we were so close before Wendy came. But it was obvious that he didn't feel the same. I heard my tent door opens. I looked up and saw Felix walking in.

"Hey it's Pan, isn't it?" I nodded and sat up.

"I love him Felix, but he doesn't feel the same. He obviously loves Wendy" Felix was thinking for a second.

"How about this? We act like we're dating. That way we can see if Pan really likes you or not" Felix suggested.

"Sure" I nodded. He smiled at me and I smiled back.

◈ ━━━━━━━ ⸙ ━━━━━━━ ◈

The next morning I got up and went to sit by Felix. I was still a little tired. I sat down by felix and laid my head on his shoulder. In response Felix wrapped his arm around my waist.

"You okay there love?" He asked me and I was a bit confused why he called me that, but then I remembered what we talked about last night.

"Yes I'm fine" I said and smiled. Felix kissed me on the head.

"Good. Do you want me to bring you some breakfast?" He asked.

"Yes, thank you Felix" I said. He nodded and got up. I could feel someone burning a hole in my back. I turned my head around and saw Peter, he quickly looked away. Felix came back and sat down beside me and handed me my food.

"I think it's working. I felt Peter glare at me and when I looked at him, he quickly looked away." I whispered to him. He smiled at me.

"Good. Trust me you will be kissing and hugging at the end of the day" He said. I smiled back at him. He quickly kissed me on the cheek.

Soon Peter stood up and addressed the boys.

"We are going to play a game. We are going to play who can hit the most targets. Felix you'll be the second captain. Pick someone" He said.

"John" John walked to Felix.

"Y/n" I smiled and went to stand by Peter.

"Daniel" After all the lost boys were on a team. Peter gave me the bow with an arrow ready to shoot the first target. I prepared to shoot.

"How's your relationship?"

"What relationship? And when did you and Felix start dating?"

"Umm, your relationship with Wendy? Yesterday" I lied.

"I'm not dating her" My eyes widened and I hit my head with my hand when I pulled the string too fast. I'm an idiot. Peter looked at me concerned.

"Are you okay?" He asked me.

"No. I'm an idiot" I shouted and I noticed Felix looking this way, but I didn't say anything.

"Why are you an Idiot?"

"Can't you see?" I asked him. He looked confused.

"See what?" I groaned.

"THAT I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU" I screamed. When I realized what I said I slapped my hand over my mouth and ran off.

✶𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚡✶

Peter looked at me.

"Have you been listening this whole time?" He asked. I nodded.

"I have a question. If she is in love with me, why is she dating you?" I groaned and facepalmed. Is he so blind.

"You are an Idiot Pan. We were pretending because Y/n loves you and she wanted to make you jealous. She was jealous of you and Wendy"

"Oh. She doesn't have reason to be" I slapped him in the face.

"Ok, oww. That hurt" He said.

"Go find her and tell her that you and Wendy aren't together because she thinks you are. So if you really love, find her and tell her." I said and he teleported away.

༻𝚈/𝚗༺

I ran and ran so deep into the woods. The air in my lungs ran out so I collapsed on the floor and started crying. There's no way he feels the same. I started hating myself and I should never have said anything. All of sudden I felt someone's hand lift my head up. I looked up and saw it was Peter. I gasped and I tried to get away from him but he grabbed my wrist making sure that I didn't leave.

"Could you please listen to me. I love you and only you. Wendy means nothing, she is only a pawn in my plan. If you don't believe me let me prove it to you" He said. Before I could ask how, he leaned forward and kissed me. I never thought Peter would do this because it was unlike anything I thought he would do. The kiss was gentle, his lips were soft and before he could break the kiss. I responded and wrapped my hands around his neck and pulled him closer to me and deepened the kiss. Peter responded and wrapped his arms around my waist and pulling me closer to him. We broke apart from lack of air.

"I love you so much and I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. Would you be my queen?" He asked. I kissed him again.

"I love you too and will gladly be your queen my king" He grinned widely and picked me up bridal style and walked to a tree and sat down with me on his lap, his arms around my waist, my head on his shoulder. It was perfect just me and Peter.

#peter pan x reader #peter pan #x reader #cute #oneshot #ouat peter pan #felix ouat #ouat fandom

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gentil-minou · 8 months

Text

a hop, skip, and a jump to you

Something about Wei Ying feeling safe in a place Lan Zhan regards as his own makes him flush, and his bunny ears turn pink again. But strangely, when Wei Ying gasps at the sight and reaches one of his hands over to run a gentle finger across the edge of one, Lan Zhan doesn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed by his ears at all. He feels something else entirely, something he doesn’t know what to call. Something equal parts terrifying as it is extraordinary, like the warmth from his mama’s hugs or praise from his brother. But more, somehow, and all thanks to Wei Ying. Just two soft magical bunny boys being soft together

Tags:

Alternate Universe - Magic

Witches

Shapeshifting

Rabbit Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī

Rabbit Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Fluff

Childhood Friends

Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Wangxian | Oneshot | 6K | Rated G

Based on this official merch art!

Preview under the cut

The back hills behind Cloud Recesses are a place for tranquility and rest. When cool mountain air kisses the soft blades of bright green grass and the sound of leaves rustling like wind chimes, one can feel at total and absolute peace. With only woodland animals for company, friendly white rabbits hopping around and squirrels darting from one tree to the next with their hauls, it’s Lan Zhan’s favorite place in the world and his most prized secret. A space away from the pressures of being a Gusu Lan heir. Away from all the near-constant staring and placing of expectations on his still small shoulders.

It’s a place for Lan Zhan to let himself rest and think, to be free to fail in the one thing he shouldn’t be failing in. But at least, here, no one will judge him for those failures.

All witches are born with a hybrid form that they must learn to control by age ten. At that time, they’re given their formal witch's name and may join the coven officially as a fully-fledged witch. It’s the goal of every young witch and the Gusu Lan pride themselves in teaching exemplary witches year after year.

But this year, Lan Zhan is afraid he will become the black spot on the otherwise perfectly pristine record.

Because Lan Zhan is nine and a half, his naming ceremony is only a few short months away, and he still can't control his large white bunny ears in his hybrid form. The rest of his bunny traits had been easy to control. He’d learned to suppress his hopping instincts and figured out how to tuck his fluffy cottontail away on the first try. Even his stubborn whiskers had receded after a few hours of diligent practice.

But for some reason, Lan Zhan hasn’t been able to manage his ears, and they continue to torment him with their perpetual floppy nature.

And if he can’t control his ears, then he will disappoint his family and his entire clan. He’ll never be the witch he’s spent his entire life working towards.

Today, his usually outgoing and curious critter friends give him a wide berth, as if they know Lan Zhan is not in the mood for pets and cuddles. Instead, he kneels in the soft grass with only the gentle wind for company, along with his unkind thoughts and his vexing bunny ears that are the root of all this mess.

They're big and unseeming, and Lan Zhan has always been embarrassed by the way his ears give away his feelings no matter how hard he works to keep his emotions regulated and controlled. It doesn’t help that as the only rabbit hybrid in all of Cloud Recesses, he is constantly the victim of teasing by the elders and older witches. Even Ge enjoys tugging on his ears, cooing at how “fluffy and adorable” they are, and taking obvious delight when their tips turn red.

It makes Lan Zhan puff up with anger and pout. He’s almost ten years old! He’s not a little baby bunny anymore, why won’t the others see that?

He knows it’s in part because of the rarity of his species. Rabbits aren't common hybrids, and he's the only one in the family since his mother passed away. It also means that he has to learn the complexities of shapeshifting and form control on his own, spending hours studying ancient text after ancient text in the library while his peers attend more practical classes.

Even his brother, an elegant snow-white crane, learned how to control his form at only seven years old! The elders were sure that with Lan Zhan’s talent in all other magicks, he would follow in his older brother’s footsteps as a child prodigy worthy of the title of Second Jade of Lan.

Except, clearly their hopes were misplaced, and Lan Zhan is going to be the first Lan heir in over a century to never learn how to control his hybrid form.

But he cannot let himself fail, so every day after his midday meal, he heads to the back hills to practice in quiet seclusion. He goes through a series of meditations designed to allow one to focus on their internal structures and self-regulation. He follows every step perfectly, exactly as the manual states, including envisioning his long fluffy white ears changing form into something more human-like.

He casts the spell, following the instructions he’s gathered exactly and precisely...but for the fifth time that day, nothing happens. He lifts his head and sees his bunny ears flopping mercilessly in his periphery, the same as they ever were and seem to always be.

Water wells up in his eyes and it takes every ounce of self-control he has left to hold them back from falling. Tears not filled with sadness but with immense frustration and anger towards himself. Lan Zhan is at the top of everything! The best in his class, an accomplished musician, and a talented student. He can perform spells older students still struggle with. He’s even been scouted to teach the younger fledgling students once he becomes a proper witch.

But, how can he, when this one spell keeps holding him back? Why is this one spell so impossible for him?

His ears droop down and Lan Zhan uses them along with the curtain of his long hair to block out the rest of the world, focusing on the ground he's sitting on. He wishes desperately that he wasn’t so alone, that he had anyone else to talk to. He takes his emotions out on the grass, heedless of the Gusu Lan precepts to Be kind to all that is living, and starts ripping up the grass in front of him. He’ll punish himself later, but for now, this is all he can do to keep from letting his tears fall.

But then, another child’s voice calls, "Hey! Don't do that, you're hurting it!"

Read more on Ao3

#lmaooooo so i got sick and can't go camping so im compensating by writing a 6k oneshot in one go #i have two moods not writing for months and then writing a lot in just a short amout of time #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #chen qing ling #wangxian #mdzs fanfiction #the untamed fanfic #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #mxtxnet #mdzs ouat au #lan zhan #anyways im gonna go get soup and sleep and actually listen to my body byeee #also not beta'd becasuse im gonna pass out

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intrepidacious · 2 years

Text

lavender's blue

summary: If there was one thing Jefferson could always rely upon, it was that you didn’t much care for sense.

pairing: jefferson x f!reader

word count: 6.4k

warnings: canon-typical angst?, reader with unspecified magical abilities, reader is alice-in-wonderland-appropriately weird y'all (affectionate); kind of open-ended but in a hopeful bc canon-compliant way <3

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: i started this as a submission for @sparkledfirecracker's cheesy writing fest challenge, but it didn't turn out very cheesy or even remotely on time. still, thank you for the wonderful prompts your wheels of fate gave me, and congrats on your follower milestone 💛

prompts used: jefferson + friends to lovers + forehead kisses

masterlist | read on ao3

What Regina couldn’t have anticipated, what no one ever could have, really, was that you had always been unpredictable. A loose end. A ticking time bomb. An unlocked door.

It was a curse in and of itself, most of the time, albeit one with a lowercase c. You’d always craved a normal life, but that didn’t mesh too well with your impulsiveness. Normalcy craved planning, devising, executing, in that order, precise decisions and arrangements that weren’t to be changed at a whim.

You were as wild as a flower in spring.

It was what Jefferson liked most about you when you first met, back when he was still jumping worlds like one of them would give him an answer. Instead, he found you, back in the Enchanted Forest you both called home, on a day that had started out like any other.

You were smack dab in the center of the meadow the hat spat him out on, and you were spinning around yourself until, he supposed, your skirts finally circled just so, and then landing on your back, laughing. Your feet were bare and dirty from stamping the ground like you were proving a point.

When he stepped closer, you propped yourself up on your elbows and blinked up at him with a grin. The sun cast his shadow in such a way that his head seemed to touch your heart. Jefferson noticed that, even then.

"Is there a reason you’re trampling on the dandelions?" he asked.

"Some people don’t deserve a wish," you simply said.

He couldn’t argue with that.

"And what about you?" he said instead.

"Well," you mused, closing your eyes, the tilt of your lips unwavering. "I think I already got my wish for the day."

"And what was that?"

There was magic brimming within you, and a lot of it. It made Jefferson’s hands shake and the hat cough out trails of smoke, even though it didn’t need to go anywhere, but you … you didn’t even seem to notice.

"Something blue," you answered.

Curiouser and curiouser, just like your smile. That was the thing that kept him distracted long enough for you to anticipate his next question, to point, still without looking, back at the hat and the purplish haze it had wrapped itself in.

"Lavender’s blue, dilly-dilly," you continued before he could voice his confusion. "I mean, I wanted flowers. But I suppose one doesn’t argue with chance, don’t you think?"

There was an almost dangerous glint in your eye when you faced him again, and that settled it.

"Why not?" he asked, and held out his hand.

You stared at it in amusement. "Are you in the habit of challenging fate, stranger?"

"Only if I know I can win," he said. "And the name’s Jefferson."

You took his hand, then, and he could never be sure if it was meant as an introduction or a leap of faith. It didn’t matter, really, when it ended up being both. When he’d pulled you to your feet, there was a small bottle in his palm, its contents glittering like liquid stardust.

He blinked.

"You can keep that if you want," you said, turning your skirt pockets out and carelessly dropping the rest of their contents on the ground. "It’s all too heavy."

Jefferson watched as you plucked a single dandelion and shook it until the wind did the wishing part for you. Then you turned without another glance at him and walked away humming, your magic patting the hat like a pet and then vanishing with you.

He’d spend weeks thinking about you simply handing him the very potion he’d intended to steal, and he still couldn’t figure out how you’d even known.

***

In this life, there are several things you know.

You know you’re a florist. You know you’re well liked, which is nice and feels new, even though you’ve lived here all your life. You know your hands can fabricate the most splendid arrangements, bouquets and wreaths in all the colors Maine has to offer, and most days, you know you’re perfectly content doing just that.

Other days, though, you know you want to see every single petal turned to ashes.

Because you also know this voice deep inside your bones, not quite your own but almost, too familiar with your habits and routines and endless, endless smalltalk. You know it keeps telling you that something is missing, something you might find again if only you set this whole damn place aflame.

So you think, what’s the harm.

And as the flames lick at your window settings and burn the roses to a crisp, you tilt your head slowly and something inside stirs, like a sleeping dragon twitching as it wakes. You realize then, that in between all the things you know, you almost missed something quite important.

Tea.

Thankfully, no else one gets hurt. The building barely even carries any damage.

When Sheriff Humbert finally lets you leave, it’s already dark outside, far too late for a neighborly visit, but you go anyway. You should have driven, but by the time you think of that, you’ve almost climbed up the hill already. The forest seems to whisper to you; you ignore it.

It’s a grand house, and you can tell it’s empty by just looking at the front of it. Not without furniture, but without a heart. You knock, knock, knock, and the sound seems to echo through the whole forest.

When the door opens, it’s with a creak that almost sounds like a yawn, and Jefferson freezes, his eyes widening as they meet yours. They’re more tired than you remember.

"I didn’t forget," you say before he can get a single word out, handing him the small parcel. The paper has worn wrinkly in your sweaty palms. "I just burned down my shop today."

If he’s surprised, or concerned, he doesn’t show it. He hovers in the doorway, his fingers carefully unwrap the delicate teacup, and there’s a wisp of a smile of his face as they trace the tiny, nonsensical little spout.

"What’s this for?" he finally asks, his voice strangely raspy.

"Don’t you remember?" you say. "It’s your unbirthday."

He lets you in, then, and your boots sink into the carpeted floor, like the ground is trying to swallow you up. The front door clicks shut.

"Tea day is Tuesdays and Thursdays," you continue on, wandering deeper into the house, making a wrong turn and taking a few steps up the stairs before suspecting—recalling—that the kitchen is to the right. You huff frustratedly. "You didn’t remind me last week!"

"Well," Jefferson calls from somewhere out of your sight. "One never knows with you."

Dark wooden cabinets. Checkerboard tiles in the kitchen. You decide you’ve broken enough rules for a day and cross them strictly diagonally until you hit a corner cabinet, pulling it open. Empty, empty. "It’s my unbirthday too, you know," you say when you hear his steps approaching again.

"What are the chances?" His voice is still hollow, in a way, as hollow as this house, and you feel like you’re missing something, but it’s so, so tiresome to think about.

"Look at that," you say, shaking the last couple of crumbs out of a crumpled up, sad-looking biscuit wrapper. "I should have come up earlier."

Jefferson sighs as he leans against the counter, watching you continue to rummage through the shelves, drawers, cupboards, trays.

It’s the saddest tea you’ve ever prepared, without a single thing to nibble on and the tea leaves trapped in silly little cotton bags, but you move opposite each other like you’re playing a game of chess, which consoles you a little.

He wins, you think, but you don’t actually know how to play.

***

Jefferson was never entirely convinced you were from the Enchanted Forest. It didn’t suit you, the dirt of this world, the whispered promises of happily ever afters and wishing upon stars so your dreams came true.

You went for the things you wanted without an ounce of remorse and without a single glance over your shoulder.

Then again, none of the other worlds he’d passed through seemed to fit you, either. Wonderland might have come closest, but you lacked its shrillness, the blunt terror in its colors and way of life. And you hated playing cards.

He wasn’t sure how you kept running into him whenever he least expected it, but you seemed to make a habit of doing just that. You seemed to enjoy pretending not to notice him staring whenever he did find you, mesmerized as if it was that first time all over again.

There was something about your presence that made any room you inhabited feel different, and the woods and sky and earth would all vibrate at a different frequency whenever you were around. It wasn’t just your magic, it was all of you.

Of course, he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

"See something interesting, dearie?" a voice laced with insanity asked from behind his shoulder.

Jefferson’s eyes never left you, even as he felt Rumplestiltskin’s gaze bore into his neck. You appeared to be counting the toadstools, reciting something in sing-song he couldn’t make out from where he was standing.

"Did you make a deal with her, too?" he asked, voice carefully neutral because you never knew what the Dark One would pick up on and use against you. He already had more on him than Jefferson liked.

"Oh, no. All magic comes with a price." The same phrase, a thousand times, accompanied by the same shimmer in his eyes. He didn't have to look to know it was there. "Just because you’re yet to pay yours doesn’t mean that’s true for everyone."

"So she’s mad?"

"What’s mad?" Rumplestiltskin tutted. "We’re all mad, in our own way. The most powerful most of all."

You lifted your head to look at the two of them and waved. Jefferson lowered the hat over his forehead, finally turning away.

"Then it surprises me you don’t seem to use that to your advantage," he said, crossing his arms.

The Dark One’s grin spliced his mouth with gold. "I like the result of my bidding to be as expected."

It seemed as good enough a cue to leave as any. He didn’t come very far, though, had barely taken the hat off to embark on his next journey before you caught up to him.

"Where are you going this time?"

He smiled to himself, because even with all your whimsical moods he knew you well enough by then to understand you hated being ignored. "Camelot," he answered just as the hat began swirling.

You stepped closer, bare feet crunching the fall leaves on the ground, and when he turned to meet your gaze, the curiosity in your eyes made his heart stumble over itself as he held out his hand, again.

You took it without a moment’s hesitation.

***

There’s a road that leads into town, but it doesn’t lead out. You like how this doesn’t make any sense; it almost feels normal.

Jefferson hates it, of course. It’s easy to read on his face, contempt tinting his every look and gesture an unbecoming shade of green. He hates this world and this wrong life and the fact that everything he wants is right under his nose and yet so far out of reach.

You get that, you really do. But the constant worrying and thinking just drags you down, doesn’t it? No. Ridiculous. So you decide to make a change.

Or rather, things fall into place again.

You work at the library now. People don’t like you as much, but it’s not like that thing at the flower shop was your fault, so they get over it. You love books too much to even consider setting them on fire, and there’s a lot less customer interaction involved, which minimizes the smalltalk. You’ve never liked smalltalk.

You’re perfectly content with your life.

That Friday you find Jefferson hunched over yet another map of the area, tracing the paradoxical routes that should lead onto the interstate and yet never do. Cars break down, bikes crash into trees that appear out of nowhere, and hiking somehow just leads you to walking in circles until you find yourself on main square once again.

It’s a puzzle that’s missing half its pieces, and you’d care about it more if you had any intention of leaving.

"Where do you want to go so badly, anyway?" you asked him once, when his eyes were red-rimmed with lack of sleep and that desperate determination.

"Home," he said, and the finality of that word made your insides twist.

Food and drinks are strictly forbidden in the reading hall, but you sneak him a thermos filled with coffee, anyway, the time for tea long passed.

He smiles at you tiredly as you take a seat opposite him, frowning at the pile of books you’re going to have to sort back onto the shelves past closing time. "Who are you today, then?" he asks, his voice hoarse as if he hasn’t talked all day. He hasn’t taken his scarf off, either, so maybe he’s getting sick.

You squint your eyes at him. "If you’re coming on to me, it’s not working."

Jefferson huffs, and then turns back to his maps. "Not at all."

Maybe it’s working a little, you think as you continue to watch him. After all, there’s method to this madness of his, passion to his pursuit, even though you don’t really understand it.

If he notices you staring, he shows no sign of it, and you’re not about to make him aware of it, not when you’re just starting to get to know each other. Besides, the longer you ponder the possibility of him, the stronger your head starts to pound.

You need to lock up at nine and Jefferson leaves you with another crooked grin that suggests more familiarity than there should be between the two of you. You return it with a bump of your shoulders, and then you watch him walk down the street with his hands in his pockets until he rounds a corner and you roll the shutters down.

Once again, you can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right here.

Because of your migraine, you spill the leftovers of the coffee over a particularly rare collection of fairy tales later that night. The gold-edged pages bleed ink all over the maps, rendering them essentially pretty trash for the perfect townsfolk of Storybrooke. You fold them up as a gift, and then you put your keys into the letterbox for them to pick up on Monday.

***

For a while, it was the two of you on his travels through the different realms, exploring and stealing and doing the unexpected. It was your specialty, after all.

And then, just like that, for a whole while, Jefferson didn’t see you again, not until after he’d met and lost Grace’s mother. It was a particularly cold night in December when he woke to his daughter tugging at his sleeve and a strange noise from outside.

It was rhythmic, swooshing, almost like the wind but accompanied by something like a hum. When he stepped to the window, though, there was nothing outside but darkness and whirling snowflakes.

He managed to get Grace back into bed after some crackers and tea, her eyes drooping closed as she huddled up with the corner of her blanket in her mouth. Jefferson watched her drift back to sleep, and then he returned to the window, because he had this feeling that he couldn’t quite shake. Like someone was calling for him without ever saying his name.

He found you clearing the path leading up to the cottage with your bare hands, the frilly cloak around your shoulders not nearly warm enough to keep out the icy sting of winter. Your fingers were already starting to turn an unhealthy color, and a thin layer of snow sat at the crown of your head like a frozen hat.

Jefferson cursed and grabbed his coat from the bench next to the door.

"What are you doing?" he hissed when he reached you, wrapping you up within seconds. You blinked up at him. Your lashes were glittering with ice.

"It needed cleaning," you said matter-of-factly, without keeping your voice down.

Quickly, he ushered you inside and made you sit next to the fireplace. You only seemed to realize the oddness of your situation now that warmth was returning to your limbs, looking around the room in slow confusion, like you were trying to piece everything together.

Jefferson was putting the kettle back into the fire when you got up again, his coat still draped around your shoulders, and stepped closer to the bed.

"You had a daughter," you said, peering at the sleeping toddler with something almost like a frown. "She’s beautiful."

"She looks like her mother."

"Nonsense. She looks just like you."

The red on his cheeks felt almost like a betrayal, but you didn’t mean that, anyway, so it didn’t count. Still, he was stunned enough to drop his mug, and the sound of it shattering on the floor woke Grace up again. She would be three in spring, then, and she was a smart girl, but she’d stopped talking months ago, instead resorting back to the wails of a much younger child whenever she was upset, and she was hard to calm.

He couldn’t blame her.

Whenever he held her like this, he felt as helpless and alone as he did that first time when she was crying for her mother and there was no one there but him.

Except this time, Jefferson wasn’t alone. To his surprise, you stepped closer and started humming, and then singing under your breath.

To his even bigger surprise, it seemed to soothe Grace.

It was an old song, a familiar song, and you placed a calming hand on his shoulder as he cradled his daughter until she finally fell asleep again. You were still cold enough he could feel it through his shirt, but your voice carried a warmth he wasn’t used to anymore.

You took your tea in comfortable silence, and when the first rays of sunshine started creeping through the branches outside, you told him that you had to leave again. He almost asked how long it would be this time.

Instead, he led you to the door and shook his head as you tried to slip out of his coat. "The weather is supposed to turn again," he said, looking you up and down because he didn’t know when to expect you next. He never did.

"You’re different," you said, and even though you didn’t sound as disappointed as he felt at those words, they still left their mark.

"You’re not," he said, and meant it as a compliment. Somehow, when you met his eye, it didn’t seem like one anymore.

"I wouldn’t be so sure," you answered, and he had no response to that.

You kissed him, then. Sweetly, like a blushing bride would. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

It was over far more quickly than he’d have liked, and you stuffed your hands into his coat pockets.

"I’m sorry," you said, and for the first time, you wouldn’t look at him.

But Jefferson could do nothing but stare, even as you finally turned and wandered down the path again, because there you were, with your heart on your sleeve, and he’d just lost his wife, and he didn’t know up from down anymore.

***

Stepping into Jefferson’s sitting room is a little like entering a creature’s belly and sitting down next to its beating heart, pressing so close you can feel it pulsating through you.

There’s a large grandfather clock staring at you from next to the fireplace, and on the mantle there’s a small, wooden alarm, and from there, it’s six and a half steps to the cuckoo clock on the far wall that makes a little rabbit appear every fifteen minutes.

Then, it’s another twenty steps past the living room table to the clock on the even farther wall and the bookcase he stores his silver pocket watch on, in a blue box on the high shelf, next to a dusty collection of fairy tales and an old hat he used to wear on Fridays.

Or was it Sundays?

"You could just go talk to her," you tell him on a Thursday, taking another sip of tea.

Jefferson sinks back in his chair, knuckles at his temples. His chin is still held high in bottomless defiance, but his eyes are so tired. "It’s not that simple."

"It’s not that complicated, either," you shrug. "You’re her father, after all."

"Except I’m the only one to know that."

"I know," you say, and you’re not sure yourself if you mean to sound reassuring or scolding. The thought is head-achingly heavy, so you drop it and pick up a tune instead, quietly humming to yourself as you continue your circles around the room.

It’s an old melody, ghosting through your mind more often than not, a little sad and happy at the same time. You feel Jefferson’s weary gaze on the back of your head, and somehow it makes you smile.

"You remember how it’s supposed to work back at home, though, right? True love conquers all." You chuckle to yourself. The song in your head starts to buzz. "Or," you continue with a dismissive lift of your eyebrow, "are you just going to wait for that savior to appear? How long has it been, ten years?"

"Eight years, three months, two-hundred and seventeen days."

Huh. You could have sworn you’ve been here much longer.

"Then there’s still nineteen years and …" You think for a moment, then shake your head. "You know what, I’m not going to get that right if I tried, and I don’t want to, so let’s just say a while."

He almost laughs at that, a soft, pained look in his eye that you’re not supposed to find charming.

"You’re going to go insane in that time," you say softly. "I would."

"I know." It’s already starting to tug at the tilt of his smile and the twitch in his eye. He hasn’t quite learned to stop caring, yet, and of course he hasn’t. That wouldn’t be like him.

He’s always been your mirror, so why would this be any different?

Things stay they same, and they stay the same, and they stay the same, and you’re sick of it. Apparently, there’s a thing such as too normal a life, and it makes your skin crawl.

So you start tailoring again. Your evenings are long and there’s just a few people that come in regularly, that ask for golden thread to fix their buttons and flaxen yarn to hem their suits. It’s quiet. Terribly quiet. Too quiet.

There’s not a single clock in your shop, and you realize you miss the ticking as soon as you crawl out of the belly of the beast. So you keep returning.

"We used to share a bed," you recall, lifting your arm so Jefferson can reach for the thread you’re holding out as you both sit on the floor, your tools and fabrics spread out over the entire room. You love watching him work, even though you don’t quite understand why he’s so obsessed with making hats. Maybe you just forgot.

"We did", he answers, not even looking at you. It makes you roll your eyes.

"So why don’t we now?"

"That would be rather complicated." His stitching is impeccable.

"Why?" Something throbs between your temples.

"Several reasons, dear." He tilts his head. "Aren’t you late?"

The unpleasant feeling in your chest disappears when you look at the clock. "Shit."

You hastily gather your things and start running to make it back to your shop in time, barely remembering to catch your breath enough to say goodbye, and so you miss the look on his face as he watches you, staying behind in the big house in the middle of the woods.

***

You visited more often, now that you knew about Grace, but Jefferson didn’t know if that was for her sake or for his. One thing that was very clear, however, was that you didn’t care at all about the dirty looks you got from everyone else whenever you strayed off the path to wander towards his cottage, unchaperoned.

Sure, they pitied him, but he was grieving, they said, and you were young and beautiful.

"They’re all so terribly starved for entertainment," you sighed, and then you handed him another pretty pebble you’d found on your way. He put it into the bowl on the window sill.

Grace was getting old enough to get used to you, then, to recognize the hands that tickled her chin and sometimes pulled her up when she fell on the forest ground. She loved your surprises, and your stories were her favorites to listen to when it was bedtime, even though she usually fell asleep long before you stopped talking.

"Did I ever tell you," you continued when the embers were barely glowing anymore but your eyes were shining in the moonlight, "about those pirates that I ran into near—"

"Why did you stay away so long?"

You blinked, and so did he. He hadn’t expected himself to actually ask, not after all this time that you had been back in his life. But the question was out now, sitting between you on the broken floorboards of his broken life, and the night stretched your silence into infinity.

"I wrote you letters," you told him, and it was true, but it wasn’t an answer. So he kept looking at you, and the silence scraped its nails against your skin. "I don’t know," you finally said in a way that told Jefferson you did know and didn’t want to tell him. There was a flustered hum to you that almost made him want to take it back, but the magic that followed each and every of your whims didn’t retreat. Not even a little.

"I was falling in love with you." He’d never admitted it out loud before. Who would he have told?

You laughed nervously, looking over at Grace. "Not very much, clearly."

"You never gave me the chance to do it properly."

"You don’t want me. I could never be a mother." Still, you talked quietly enough not to wake her, and you brought her trinkets and playthings whenever you’d been away for a while. You never brought him anything, but he still felt like he was getting a rare gift every time. It must’ve counted for something.

Besides, this was the first time you’d attempted to reason with him.

"I didn’t have her then," he said anyway, as if that was an argument.

"But you were always going to."

"And what about you and me?"

You bit your lip. "I’m inconvenient."

"I know," he said.

"You can’t rely on me."

"I know," he said.

"You deserve better than me."

Jefferson shook his head, and for the first time since he met you, you looked unsure. So, for the first time since he met you, he was the one doing the incalculable.

He kissed you.

You pulled him closer immediately, all logic forgotten as you crashed into each other, finally on the same page of this twisted story. You kissed him like you wanted him to be the happy ending to your storybook, even though you weren’t cut out for that kind of tale.

You both tried to be, anyway.

***

You’ve run the teashop now for … you’re not quite sure. Forever, maybe. It sure feels like your whole life has been spent between boxes of fragrant leaves, with a kettle always shrieking somewhere in the house and you humming whatever tune it sings to you.

But your hands are dirty, and no matter how much you brush your nails under scalding water, there always seems to be grime underneath them. Like you’re repotting plants in your sleep. Or clawing at the ground.

Your life is filled with sound, with constant chatter and gossip, because your front door is barely a five minute walk from Storybrooke secondary and the schoolgirls have developed an obsession with the shortbread and ginger muffins you serve with their tea. They reward you with whatever pocket money they can find at the bottom of their school bags and any gossip about their teachers they’ve eavesdropped on that week.

You constantly have a headache, but it’s fun, in a way. And you get to see Grace.

Your hand stops midair as you reach out for the lavender tea the girl ordered, staring unfocused until she clears her throat expectantly.

“Sorry,” you say, still dazed, “lost my train of thought there.”

The girl—Paige, you remember now, you heard her friend say her name when they entered the shop, Come on, Paige, and something about it made your stomach turn—tips her head to the side in a way that’s familiar, even though you don’t know why. “Can I have that to go?“ she adds, a quick look over her shoulder to where her friends are giggling.

“Sure.”

You only serve tea in loose leaves, because you believe trapping your window to the future in a small bag doesn’t do anyone any good, even though most of your customers don’t know how to tip their residue into their saucers in the proper way. You do it for them, sometimes, if they leave enough cold tea in their cups for you to do it after the door has clicked shut behind them. You knew about the mayor’s adoption papers going through before she knew about it herself, and you’d felt pretty smug about that.

The perfect amount of time to steep lavender tea is five minutes and forty-six seconds, and because you can’t trust a child to particularly care for such precision, you keep the steaming paper cup behind the counter until your timer goes off. You stir a dollop of honey in, humming to yourself, before you hand Paige the cup. She doesn’t really look at you, already distracted by another snippet of conversation, but she still flashes you a quick smile before hurrying to catch up with the others. The bell above the door jingles again, and the man stepping inside holds the door open for the girls to file outside, chattering excitedly. His other hand is balled up into a fist so tight it makes his knuckles stand out white.

He takes a deep breath before he turns and regards you. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I suppose so,” you say, even though it interrupts your humming. “Can I get you anything?”

His smile is small, but beautiful. “I think you already are.”

It’s then you notice you’ve pulled out one of the mugs from your good set without even asking, heaping two and a half spoonsful of your favorite blend inside like it’s the most natural thing for you to do upon his entrance.

Before you can apologize, he turns the sign in your window to 'closed' and sits down at the counter with a patient look, eyes very intense as they search yours, his face unreadable. None of it feels threatening, just … expectant.

So you continue with your instinctual movements, even though you’re not sure how you know what he’s waiting for. You feel like there’s something you’re missing, and it doesn’t come to you until you hand him his mug.

The mask falls when he says your name, your real name, and your lips twist into a smile that’s so unsure of itself it almost curls inwards.

You remember, you remember.

Every single lifetime falls back into place until the one that came first stays at the forefront. You cling to the thought like someone fights with a dream to be allowed to stay a little longer, battling oblivion with the resolution of a dragon slayer.

"How long was I gone this time?" you ask, hands clasping the counter more tightly and blinking fast as if that could keep the forgetting away.

"Hard to say," Jefferson answers. "A few weeks. You’re getting better."

You know he’s lying, because in the beginning, it would only take you a couple of days to remember. Now, your moments of clarity seem to be farther apart every time. "Was she nice?"

If you were going to remember any of this in a while, you’d really miss being the girl from the tea shop. You’ve been enjoying this version of things, the simplicity and the small dosages of variety, like little treats in this viscous monotony.

He shrugs with one shoulder. "She’s you."

"So, no."

His smile always seems sad these days. "So, nice in the ways that matter. You always are."

Somehow, you doubt that. "What day is it?" you ask.

"Seventeen years, six months, forty-five days."

You don’t ask him if there’s been any progress; you know there hasn’t been. Instead, you round the counter and put your arms around him. You feel him sag against you, his sigh of relief barely audible against your shoulder. You can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since Jefferson’s touched another person.

He pulls you close enough for you to feel his heartbeat in your own chest, and you barely breathe as you tighten the embrace even more, trying to hold both of you upright.

"Your hair’s getting longer again," you mumble after a very long time, dragging your thumb against the back of his neck.

"Don’t lie," he answers hoarsely, lifting his head without opening his eyes, your noses bumping before he rests his forehead against yours. "I miss you."

It breaks your heart, how easily it slips out.

Your lips seek his carefully, then more confident, because you don’t know how else to express your own feelings. This kiss, like all the ones before, is a promise you both know you won’t be able to keep.

Hope still tastes bitter on his tongue.

***

He’d always hated Wonderland, but he’d never hated it more than when he got stuck there and felt his sanity slip through his fingers a little bit more every day. Time didn’t make sense here, nothing did.

But if there was one thing that he could always rely upon, it was that you didn’t much care for sense.

"There you are." A voice as familiar as an old song woke him up from another nightmare. "What on earth are you doing in this hole?"

Jefferson opened his eyes. You were like a vision, not even paying attention to the disbelief in his eyes as you dusted off one of the useless hats.

"How," he croaked.

You chuckled a little and continued to look around the room. His cell. His locked cell with guards posted outside.

He sat up so quickly his vision went black for a moment. "How are you here?"

"You were gone so long," you said. "I was bored."

"You—" He held your cheek, your waist, your shoulder. You felt cool to the touch, but solid, real. Eyes innocent and glittering with your usual mischief, as if this was completely normal. "Have you seen Grace? Is she alright?"

"She misses you, too."

He didn’t even pay attention to it, then, but he remembered that little "too" at the end later, many, many times.

"Can you get me home?"

Your smile was soft and sad and sliced him in two all over again. You gently tugged at the bow around his neck, and then you simply said, "No."

So he raged. He bargained. He begged.

But you could not, would not budge, even though your eyes grew heavy as you listened to him. Like this was a disappointing development for you.

He already knew he was nothing more.

He stared at you when he was done, chest heaving, still on his knees in front of you even though he could no longer meet your eye. You didn’t say anything.

"Are you angry with me?"

"No," you said again. You brushed your hands through his hair and slowly sank down to his level.

It was only then that he realized tears were falling from his eyes. Gently, you wiped them off his cheeks, and then, holding his face in your hands, you pressed a kiss to his forehead before touching your own to the same spot.

"Grace sends this," you whispered.

Jefferson closed his eyes, heart twisting with that unspeakable ache.

"There’s something you need to know," you said, your voice already carrying the weight of it. As if all of this hadn’t been enough. "Something bad is coming."

"Isn’t it always?" he asked, but then he felt your magic flicker in a way it never had before. Like it was nervous.

And then lightning struck outside.

When he looked at your face, your eyes were rolled back and your magic was lashing out in all directions, clashing against the walls in terror. "There’s danger if I dare to stop and here’s a reason why," you sing-songed, unfocused, and Jefferson caught your hands before you clawed at your own face. "I’m over-due, no no no no, goodbye, hello." You hiccuped.

Dread washed through him in an icy shockwave. He’d seen you in a state of confusion before, many times, but this was different, not just overwhelmed but panicked. Your magic was literally spilling out of you now, like it was trying to escape whatever fate you’d seen coming, and you would’ve doubled over with it had he not held you upright.

"Run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run run." You giggled. "Did you know I’m a bunny in a book?"

"Sweetheart, you need to focus."

The next thunder rolled outside and you screamed, but it seemed to knock some sense back into you because your eyes weren’t quite so glassy anymore when you looked at him again. "Oh, this next part won’t be fun."

Something knocked at the door and then it burst open, dark purple whirls of magic filling the room within seconds, accompanied by roaring winds and a thumping sound that reminded him of a beating heart. Your hands came up to cup Jefferson’s face and you gave him the saddest, most knowing smile he’d ever seen on you.

The wind almost swallowed your voice, but whatever magic hadn’t left you yet let him hear your words anyway.

"Some people really don’t deserve a wish."

Then, everything went black.

thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!! you can also buy me a ko-fi if you feel so inclined <3

#jefferson x reader #jefferson fic #jefferson x you #jefferson fanfiction #jefferson oneshot #once upon a time fanfic #ouat fanfic #lavender's blue

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booksteaandtoomuchtv · 6 months

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CS Sleepy Prompt One-Shots (5/?): “Go Rest. I'll take care of this."

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | A03

Since the sun had set on Captain Liam Jones, his successor had made a point of rising before the sun. Most mornings were spent pleading with the sea to swallow him and correct the wrong that had occurred when the wrong brother was claimed by Death. But, there were some mornings in which he’d feel this odd sensation that he was meant for more, there was a reason he’d been spared, and he merely needed to hang in a bit longer and everything he’d been through would be worth the treasure he was headed toward.

When Milah entered his life, he’d thought their love was the end of his hunt. She had been killed for her love for him by a petty ex-lover. The crocodile crushed her heart and shattered his in one swift movement. Endless mornings followed in which the darkness was filled with fantasies of revenge - if he were forced to survive after his love and heart had been lost, then he would dedicate what was left of it to destroying the bloody beast who had taken them.

This morning was far from those. Today. exhaustion weighed him down and he groaned as he pushed off the bed. A demand for warm milk had turned into a chant taken up by two little voices that seemed to echo throughout the house, perhaps the neighbourhood.

The mound of blankets taking up the other half of his bed released a sound that might have been a grunt or perhaps a word. Whatever the sound was meant to be, Killian could hear in it fatigue that matched his own. Something in their shared struggle gave him the strength to rise and face the chaos he knew would be waiting for him.

A small smile pulled at his lips as he leaned in to kiss the wild mane of blonde hair poking out from the cocoon of blankets, “Rest, love. I’ll take care of this.”

“Five minutes,” Emma muttered back, her voice already thick with sleep.

Killian shook his head as he left the dark room, closing the door behind him. His wife would sleep another few hours after the night they had last night. Hope had woken up several times with coughing fits that seemed too big for her tiny body. Each time she woke up, Maren followed shortly after, having crawled into bed with her big sister earlier in the evening. They would battle with the stubborn four-year-old to take the bright blue liquid that would resolve her coughing fits and cut the fever that she hadn’t been able to shake and then have to soothe her sister back to bed. Almost an hour after Hope’s heart-breaking coughs woke them, Emma and Killian would crawl back into their bed. Killian would drift off quickly, having learned to catch rest whenever he had the opportunity. But Emma would toss and turn, finally drifting to sleep mere moments before the next wake-up would occur.

“WARM MILK! WARM MILK!” The chants continued as he stepped into the room where both girls were wide awake and bouncing around despite the early hour. He leaned against the door, his legs and arms crossed as he watched them in amazement. Both girls were sniffly, coughing messes and they were still full of energy and giggles.

“DADDY!!!!!!” Maren yelled, wiggling off the bed over her sister and running toward him with her arms wide open. Killian swept her up onto his hip, “I want warm milk,” she demanded in greeting.

“I’ll help! I am good at helping.”

“Alright, little loves. We have to be quiet so we don’t wake Mummy.” Killian said, his voice a whisper.

“WE’RE SO GOOD AT BEING QUIET, RIGHT DADDY?” Hope said excitedly as they passed the door behind which his wife slept.

Killian flinched at her unexpected volume. “Yes, you are both so good at keeping quiet. We need to stay quiet just a bit longer,” he answered in a whisper.

“Do we have to be quiet downstairs?”

“No, love.”

“Why? We will wake up mummy if we are loud.”

“The kitchen is far from our room. Mummy won’t be able to hear us, so we can be loud once we are there.”

Hope was quiet for a moment as they made their way down the stairs.

Once they stepped into the kitchen, Killian set Maren down to start preparations for breakfast. Hope took her sister’s hand in hers and led her deeper into the room, “Mary, we can talk now because Mummy can’t hear us, so we can’t wake her up.”

Maren, who had stayed quiet since issuing her initial command, nodded seriously at her sister’s words. The curls in her blonde hair bobbed with the motion.

“Do you want to colour?”

“Mhmm.” Maren climbed into a chair as Hope pulled out some crayons and paper for them both.

Killian stalled in his preparations and watched as they sat together chatting away about their drawings. He soaked up this moment, saving it for when they started yelling about their toys and favourite cups and which one touched the other one first later today. But this moment, just as the sun started to stretch its first rays over the horizon, was the treasure he'd spent his lifetime seeking.

#CS ONESHOT #ouat #killian jones #captain swan #emma swan #once upon a time #killian x emma #captain hook #cs fanfic #cs ff #mostly a Dad!Killian fic #Dad!Killian #I am not really sure what happened to this one #but I wrote a thing #yay!

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heliads · 10 months

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like a heartbeat, drives you mad

From the moment you first dream of Neverland, you know that it's a home unlike any other. Waking up is terrible every time, but what if you were able to find a way to stay there forever?

masterlist

You are always alone when the thoughts catch up to you. When you’re with other people, it’s different, easier to convince your mind to race to better, safer topics. You don’t have to think about the fears or the worries, you just have to keep up with the conversation or do your best to not seem like the person you’re terrified you truly are. Everything hinges on the one other person there, distracting you from the relentless parade of thoughts, keeping you firmly in reality.

When you’re alone, though, you can’t hide anymore. You wave goodbye to your friends to head inside, and with your hand on the knob, you think, did they really want to see me? And, was that laughter genuine, or were they faking it the whole time? Worse, was it at me?

Things get worse once it gets dark. You lie awake at night thinking that you’ll fail at everything, that no one will want to associate with you after that, that everyone on this earth is going to live and die and no one will ever remember you again. You don’t like thinking along such dark lines, but the self-hatred is strong and won’t let you go. You’ve tried before, shaking it off, but it always comes creeping back when you want it the least.

Life is not the best, but at least the fall of dusk upon the streets and surroundings of your hometown brings you the blessing of finally being able to go to bed. You can push off schoolwork until the next day, chores until forever, just so long as you can shut off your mind and crawl under your covers and everything will go away.

Tonight is one of those nights when you want it most of all. It’s been a long day, followed by a long week, chased by an even longer month. You can only tell yourself that it’ll get better soon for so long before even that familiar lie loses its charm. It’ll be good to rest tonight, though. Maybe tomorrow will make you happier. You close your eyes and try to sleep, all but begging unconsciousness to fall over you and carry you away. Your waking life is horrid enough. In sleep, at least, you will be alone, but–

In your dream, there is a boy. He was not there before. He is, in fact, nobody you have ever seen before. This should not be a problem. Dreams are rarely perfectly photographic, but this boy is, indeed, perfect. He’s absolutely in focus, blurred by none of that dreamlike haze that most figures cling to in your subconscious. It’s like a memory, but it’s never happened. It’s like reality, but you are still definitely asleep.

You stare at him for longer than is perhaps polite, but he does not go away. You can feel this dream in a way that should not be possible– the carpet under your feet, the cool of the air conditioning. You’re in your room, standing by the door. He’s perched on a chair, eyeing you with interest, and as bizarre as this dream is, you cannot shake the absolute certainty that this is his fault.

The only thing to be left, then, is to get some answers. You work up the confidence to speak, and your voice sounds exactly as it should, not distorted by dreams or anything. “Who are you?”

The boy chuckles. “A friend of yours. Hopefully, that is. I’d like to get to know you.”

Having gone a record number of years of your life without any hyperrealistic boys disrupting your dreaming schedule, especially ones who specifically wanted to meet you of all people, this only adds to your confusion. “Why?”

The boy shrugs liberally. “I’ve been encountering fewer and fewer dreamers around. Yours are the most vibrant. I was curious.”

You fight the odd urge to laugh. “A lot of people dream. Maybe you’re just bad at looking.”

This is, of course, the most rational thing you can do, immediately pick a fight with some guy currently terrorizing your brainwaves. Luckily, he doesn’t seem offended by your need to argue, and he just grins. “See, you’re right, but most dreams are nothing more than surface level. Yours are deeper, richer, stronger. In all honesty, that’s the sort of thing that makes me more powerful, so I wanted to see what it was about.”

You scoff. “Sure thing, magic boy, you, like, eat dreams or something. Weird of you, but okay.”

He smiles again. He shouldn’t, but he does. “You don’t believe me? I can show you.”

He stands, holds out a hand to you. You’re certain this guy’s nothing more than a figment of your imagination, but still. You hesitate. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Peter,” he says, “but magic boy works too.”

It makes you laugh. Shouldn’t, but it does. Just enough to shake loose your hesitations– what could happen here, after all, in the confines of your own dreams? You take his hand and something sparks behind his eyes. Pride, maybe. Or justification of some sort. Either way, you get the feeling that he’s just proven himself right.

Peter walks over to your window, throwing it open abruptly and climbing out onto the ledge. “You have to trust me,” he tells you, “or this isn’t going to work very well.”

You want to argue with him that you have absolutely no reason to trust him at all, but for some reason you’re already crawling out the window before you can get the words out. Your body trusts him, even as your mind doubts it. Strange, but nothing about this makes sense, anyway.

Peter straightens up slowly, bringing you with him. “Are you ready?”

“For what?” You ask, concerned.

His eyes dance with mischief. “For this,” he calls out, and he pulls you from the ledge.

There is a terrible moment of falling, when the only sure thing is his hand still wrapped around yours. You are plummeting towards the ground with dreadful speed, but then you’re not, and you’re leveling out again, the two of you pulled through the air as if by some invisible string.

The wind whips through Peter’s hair as the two of you soar through the air. “How is it?” He shouts over to you.

You laugh delightedly. “Fantastic.” It’s almost a pity it isn’t real. The fact that it feels so true but isn’t is almost more heartbreaking as if nothing had felt like reality in the slightest.

Before you know it, you and Peter are well beyond the reaches of your town, or even your country. Dark waters skim by underneath you, the waves of some foreign sea. Thousands of stars twinkle above you, Peter points out a few, shouts, second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning, that’ll get us there. You frown at him, call back, where? And he laughs, delighted in the thought of all that you have soon to experience, and screams, Neverland! at the top of his lungs.

It sounds like a joyous place. It is, from the moment you step foot on its pearlescent beaches, and later still, when you’re striding through the lush forests towards a campsite. It’s all a blur from that moment onwards, a swirl of new faces running towards you and laughing at your jokes, the clash of swords without a trace of fear, promises that you’ll love this even better, or that, or everything.

It is paradise. You do a hundred things and never tire. The Lost Boys who meet you, take you by storm, and obviously enjoy the company of a newcomer. Throughout all of it, Peter watches, tucked into the shadow of a tree trunk, arms folded across his chest with that satisfied smile on his face again. He does not approach until earlier into the morning, once dawn starts bleeding out beneath the blushing fingers of the rising sun.

“We have to go back,” he tells you at last, slipping out from his hideaway to step carefully to your side, “Or, you do, at least.”

The memory that none of this is real comes crashing down upon you, and you can feel the ecstasy of this whole night leaving you in a flash. “Right,” you say, “This is just a dream. Forgot about that.”

The thought that you’ll have to wake up and go to school and exist again as a normal person without any of this wonder that you’d just experienced makes you feel sick and saddened. Peter shakes his head, eyes soft. “You don’t necessarily have to wake up, but you should. You can come back soon, though.”

You laugh bitterly. “Of course I can, dream boy. I’m going to forget all of this by morning.”

He frowns. “Do you want to?”

“No,” you insist, “but I don’t think I have a choice.”

“You do,” Peter tells you, “You always have a choice. Always.”

With that, he takes your hand, and pulls just so. You stumble forward, caught off balance, and when you look up again, you’re in your room. Same four walls, same ceiling, same everything. You know somehow that this is the dream no longer, even without mysterious boys or wonderful islands in front of you.

A dreadful sigh leaves your lungs, carrying only heartbreak and misery. What a pity, to have such a magnificent dream and then have to leave it. Knowing that none of it was real is perhaps one of the worst agonies you have ever encountered in your life.

Or– was it not real after all? There’s something clenched in your hand, and you raise it slowly, uncurling the fingers one by one. What falls neatly onto your lap is a stone, polished to perfection by centuries of tides. It’s like no stone you’ve ever seen around here, shiny in a way that nothing natural is. It’s dark and lovely and– and it’s exactly like the ones on the shores of Neverland when you first touched down. There was no way you could have gotten it anywhere but there. That means that you were there after all, and that it’s real, it’s all real.

You go throughout the day in a haze, barely able to focus long enough to remember where you’re supposed to be going. None of it matters, though, not even the snide comments of your teachers or the questioning looks from your peers. Nothing matters, because the second the day ends and night creeps back around you, you know it’s time.

You have a brief moment of terror just before you fall asleep when you wonder if you can get back after all, that perhaps that was just a one time thing. No, you decide firmly, I want it. I’m going.

And, when you open your eyes to that same slightly uncanny feeling of the dream before, you know it, you can get back. Peter isn’t here this time, but that doesn’t stop you from racing to your window and throwing open the sash. You leap out into the air again blindly, reaching for the stars even before your feet leave the threshold. You won’t get hurt, none of this is real. All of this is real, that’s why you can fly into the air again, caught by an unseen hand. Second star to the right. Straight on until morning. You know the way. You couldn’t forget it if you tried.

The beaches of Neverland are empty, but you charge forward anyway, nearly tripping over tree roots and loose plants as you hurry through the forest. You can just see the lights of the camp, and then, yes, you’re into the clearing, and you’re greeted by shouts of glee and joy. Peter’s waiting for you at last, slowly clapping with the rest of the boys.

“You made it,” he says, evidently proud, “We wanted to see if you could.”

“Of course I can,” you tell him, laughing, “I made that choice.”

“That you did,” Peter says, and the celebrations begin.

It is quite possibly the best time of your entire life. You repeat this process day after day, slogging through your daylight hours with the end goal of being able to fall asleep and go back to Neverland, back to your Lost Boys, back to Peter. Nothing matters but the island. They all get along with you better than any friend you’ve ever made on the mainland.

The journey takes a shorter and shorter time, gone in the blink of an eye, and half the time you just wake up on the shores anyway, so familiar is the destination to you. You learn archery, throw knives, spar with the boys, shriek and shout and spin around the campfire. It’s fantastic, all of it, but that only makes the morning even worse in your opinion.

For, no matter how excellent of a night you had on Neverland, you always have to go back. Always. Peter takes your hand and he gives you that same look, that expression of regret and acceptance, and promises to see you later, to see you soon. Then you’re back in your house, and every time, the storm of homesickness and grief at no longer being on your island pulls you under.

It makes you think, though. On your first night on Neverland, Peter had said something strange about how you didn’t necessarily have to wake up. Perhaps it fits in with what he’s been telling you about how everything is just a choice. Maybe he’s been waiting for you to want that choice, the one to live here forever. It’s one you’d make in a heartbeat if you could only do it.

Curious, though, you start looking around at the other Lost Boys. They had to have gotten here somehow, right? One night you see one of them arrive, ferried over by a strange shadowy thing that looks far more terrifying than the whirlwind flight you’d had with Peter.

You ask one of the Lost Boys about it that night, interested to know why you were brought by Peter and this newcomer wasn’t. Apparently, though, you were the anomaly, not this boy.

“Usually Pan makes his shadow bring newcomers over,” the boy tells you matter-of-factly, “but I guess he wanted to impress you or something.”

You frown. “Why?”

The boy lifts a shoulder, evidently unbothered by the whole affair. “You’re the last of the dreamers, I guess he wants to keep you around or something.”

It’s an unhelpful answer, all things considered, and basically just what Peter had told you in your dream bedroom that first night. Still, the story is consistent, at least, and it makes you even more certain that Peter wants you to stay. You’re one of the dreamers, right? Why wouldn’t he want you to stay here forever, at least to keep his magic strong if not for the obvious friendship the two of you have had since the very first time you met?

You resolve to bring it up to Peter the next night. You’ve barely been on Neverland for an hour or two before you pull Peter aside and tell him what’s been on your mind for the longest time.

The breath out of your lungs is shaky, but you’re determined to get this right. “I want to stay in Neverland,” you tell him. “Forever, I mean. Not waking up. I want you to bring me here in real life. You always say that we have to make choices, and this is mine. I choose Neverland.”

Peter nods slowly, and you’re almost getting up your hopes that he’ll be accepting when he starts to speak. “That certainly would be an important choice. I would have to choose to bring you, though.”

You incline your head once. “Yeah, that’s why I’m asking you now. I mean, we’re friends, right? You and me, and the rest of the Lost Boys get along with me, too. I belong here, you know that. You brought me here in the first place, at least let me stay.”

He’s not saying anything. Why isn’t he saying anything? After too many minutes, Peter sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “Dreaming is one thing. Actually living here is something else entirely.”

“I know,” you say, starting to get impatient, “I’ve thought about this a lot, trust me, but I feel more alive on your island than I have in the real world. This is my home, Peter. You made it my home.”

Peter stares at you, the ground, his hands, and back to you. “No,” he says at last.

It feels as if you have fallen off of a tall cliff, condemned to tumble down forever in endless emptiness. “What? Why wouldn’t you– you’ve let me come here every night for months, but actually being on this island for good is too much for you? Peter, was any of this actually real to you? Was I just here as a temporary thing while you tried to harness the power of a dreamer or something?”

Peter shakes his head quickly. “No, no. It wasn’t about that. You’re as good as one of my Lost Boys–”

You cut him off, feeling the horror build in your chest with every passing second. “But never actually one of them, right? I can hang around during my nights but I will never be one of them, because you don’t really want me here. If you did, you would have brought me like all the others.”

You want to scream and cry, perhaps both. You’ve trusted him and, hell, even loved him, more than anyone else. Peter was the one thing in between you and complete melancholy. He’s turned your whole life around, given you reason after reason to keep going, but he does not want you around for good. Maybe he doesn’t even want you around at all.

He’s trying to say something, come up with some excuse that’ll somehow exempt him from your heartbreak, but anger is quickly outweighing sadness in your mind and you won’t let him. “No,” you say shakily, “If you never intended to keep me, I won’t waste our time. Why have me here at all?”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Wait, please–”

You never hear the end of his sentence. You’ve woken yourself up from this glorious dream enough to be able to do it all by yourself, and you do it now. When you open your eyes, it’s still dark outside, several hours from morning, but it’s over now, it’s all over.

You know that with certainty. You’ll never be going back. If Peter does not want you, and it is suddenly crystal clear that he does not, or he would have already taken you to Neverland and never fought it, then you will not trouble him with your presence any longer. This is what he wants, even if it destroys you.

It’s funny, realizing how much being on Neverland transformed your life. Your waking hours suddenly seem longer, the days filled with more dread and dullness than they ever had before. You had been miserable before you dreamed of Peter and the Lost Boys, and now that misery is back in full force. You compel yourself to forget him, to forget everything that had happened on that island, but picking up the pieces is a far harder task than you had ever anticipated.

Days pass. Weeks. Months. At first, you have to force yourself to wake up from that dream again and again, catching yourself with the image of second stars to the right even as you promised yourself that you would never think of it again, but it gets easier as time goes by. That hurts more than it should, but you have no other choice. Peter does not put himself in your dreams again. You do not show up to Neverland. Everything is exactly as it was before, but worse, because now you have those memories of a time that was far better than this one.

You’re walking home from school one day when you’re reminded of Neverland again. It’s a strong memory, forcing itself to the front of your mind. Green trees, the leaves waving overhead. The breeze whipping at your face. You can’t imagine why you’d be thinking of it again, and then you turn a corner and he’s there in front of you.

Peter.

It’s impossible. You’re not dreaming, so he shouldn’t be here unless– unless he actually came here. You stand stock-still, hardly daring to breathe, and Peter looks back at you, just as shaken even though he’s the one who came all this way.

“I miss you,” he says slowly, unsteadily. You’ve never seen Peter hesitant, or ever show any sign of a lapse in his typical cocky confidence. Not until now, that is. Truly, he has no idea how you will treat him now that you’ve already left once before and gotten away with it.

“I know,” you tell him, “I know.”

Peter tilts his head to the side, trying to get a read on you. “Did you miss me?”

You take a step to the side, looking at the nearby scenery, anything but him. “Yes. Parts of it. I missed running with the Lost Boys under the trees. I missed the bonfires and the dancing. And yes, I think I missed you. But I hated feeling like you didn’t want me there, and for a while, that was enough to make me think I didn’t miss you.”

Peter’s eyes are wide, twin emeralds twinkling in the quiet air. “And what about now that I’m here? Can you miss me now?”

“I can,” you decide at last. You do. You have, and seeing him again has ripped open a fresh wound you swore had already healed. Blood is oozing around your fingers, but for some reason being with him still takes away the pain of such a grievous blow.

Peter holds out a hand to you. He’s trembling slightly, far less sure of himself than he’d been in a dream of your bedroom many months ago. Still. He wants you even now.

“Come back with me,” he says, “Back to Neverland. We all need you. I need you. You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. It was always your home, I didn’t realize it before. It could be your home again.”

You look at him. It’s been a long time. You’ve grown up in the time since you last stepped foot on the island, but strangely enough, you think he has too. That’s why you’re able to take his hand at last, and trust that he will not let you down again. He needs you, just like he said. As it turns out, you need him too.

Peter’s smile is radiant. “Shall we go back, then?”

You allow yourself to smile back at last. “I think we will.”

ouat tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @eclliipsed, @w1shes43, @lost-ender

#peter pan #peter pan imagines #peter pan x reader #peter pan oneshot #ouat #ouat imagines #ouat x reader #ouat oneshot #once upon a time #once upon a time imagines #once upon a time x reader #once upon a time oneshot #ouat peter pan #ouat peter pan imagines #ouat peter pan x reader #ouat peter pan oneshot

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snowbellewells · 5 months

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Self Promo Sunday: "Bless What is Given You"

I realize that it's time to roll out the Christmas-y fics, but I had one more Thanksgiving story, and I didn't want to leave it out. I hope you will still enjoy it, even in December. There’s a nod to a missing moment from 3x19, but then it jumps to post s6 in Storybrooke, to all of them in their happy beginning… Most of this is also written in Robin Hood's point-of-view, so there is some Outlaw Queen in amongst the larger Swan Jones Charming Mills family fluff, if that is a deal-breaker for anyone...

** Also available on AO3, if that is your preference **

by: @snowbellewells

“Do you mean to tell me you think you know better than a queen?” Regina’s haughty voice practically dripped disdain from each clipped, precise syllable she spoke. The perfect arch of her sculpted brow rose in question, disbelief and disapproval clear on her challenging, flawless face, even if her tone had not made her opinion more than apparent. “My mother was Rumplestiltskin’s most prized pupil; he sought me out himself to train me as well, chose me to cast his precious Dark Curse… Do you honestly think the fact that you can scare off a few monkeys with your arrows and you’ve been squatting in his deserted castle makes you a better judge of...of…” Even though she spoke the “you” as though her mouth was swallowing something foul and her face scrunched up accordingly, it seemed that the formerly Evil Queen was at a rare loss for words to express just how ridiculous the very idea was.

Unfazed, the scruffy archer gazed right back at her cheekily, seeming more than a bit amused by her ruffled feathers and inability to continue. “Not sure that is quite the distinction you’re making it out to be, Milady,” he offered with a smirk.

From across the way, Snow couldn’t seem to resist chiming in with the outlaw who had once befriended a princess on the run; who, in what now seemed like another life had helped her fine-tune her skills with a bow and advised her on spots in the forest where one could most easily hunt game to eat without encountering Regina’s guards. Though Snow had long since made the choice to put their painful and sordid history in the past, there was something that teased a warble of delighted laughter up her throat at the sight of this bandit who once graced “Wanted” posters by her side agitating Regina to the point of losing all her icy, polished reserve. “It is a bit of a dubious honor, Regina, you have to admit.”

Charming beside her dipped his head to hide the chuckle rumbling in his chest as well, reaching across their round council table’s polished surface to squeeze her hand. The shepherd-prince consort would have been lying if he refused to admit there wasn’t a part of him who enjoyed watching her Majesty flounder for her unaffected poise. It went without saying that the curse they were speaking of had ripped he and Snow apart and taken their daughter from his arms almost the moment she was born; consigning them all to 28 lonely years of misery. The truth was that plain and that simple, but he wisely held his tongue. At least since his recent pirate friend had gone off on his own after their arrival back in their land, Robin was someone with whom he could break a bit of the tension and who might lighten all of their dark and despairing moods once in a while.

As they returned to discussing the plan to raid Gold’s castle here in their home realm, knowing Zelena had holed up in the Dark One’s stronghold - with Rumplestiltskin himself still prisoner - it became clear it was really the only method they had left to try, to hope that the man who always knew so much more than anyone else would also know some way out of this mess, some way to stop Regina’s rage and envy fueled half-sister. Belle across the table looked pale and strained, her lips pressed together in a thin line but determined, needing to help in whatever way she could. Even if they couldn’t free her True Love, even if his mind were already too fractured by his near death, the half-possession that had held his son’s mind within his body as well, and then that son’s violent loss, he wouldn’t want things to continue as they were; with him under Zelena’s control and bent to her will. Belle had to cling to that truth if nothing else.

Seeming to sense her flagging spirit, Charming saw Leroy sitting next to her place a clumsily large, ax-calloused hand over her slender, tiny one and give it a reassuring squeeze. The dwarf leaned over to whisper encouragingly to the petite beauty, and the prince realized that even within his inner circle of friends and allies there were deeper friendships, and stories leading to them, that he didn’t know, as Belle’s petite frame relaxed and her tense shoulders lowered slightly at the stout little man’s clearly welcomed assurances. The former shepherd thought he just made out the kind, if gruffly voiced, words, “Hang in there, Sister, the battle ain’t over yet.” Charming smiled; that might as well be a mantra for all of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin of Locksley, otherwise known in the Enchanted Forest these days by his more colorful moniker of Robin Hood, simply could not seem to help it. He knew something about him - be it his cavalier attitude towards risk and danger, his leisurely and rather lax methods of ruling over his crew (Can he help it if he’d trust them with his life and has never had cause to question their loyalty or skill?) or perhaps it was just his very form and person she objected to. Whatever the case may be, he couldn’t help goading her Majesty, rattling that posh control of which the woman seemed so proud. Behind the cool and haughty veneer Regina Mills carefully wore, he sensed something injured - fragile, even - though she would be appalled at the thought that any weakness showed, he had no doubt of that. The irony, of course, was that bit of a chink in her flawless armor was the one thing that kept him from dismissing her as another selfish, cruel royal stepping on the backs of those less fortunate to get ahead. Her tiny show of pained humanity, the loneliness hidden behind those large dark eyes, beguiled him no matter how hard he tried to resist; drew his empathy where otherwise he would have had only scorn for her past actions and the villain she had been.

They were in the Dark Castle; seemingly, hopefully, having escaped Zelena’s notice so far, but stymied by a large door into the chamber where Rumplestiltskin had to be imprisoned. They had searched the entire rest of the castle and found it empty. None of them were foolish enough, however, to assume that the fact that they had not yet seen the Wicked Witch meant that the way ahead was safe or that she had not laid hidden snares for any intruders. Particularly not if this door were the barrier beyond which she was hiding the powerful being she meant to both use and prove herself to. There had been no other closed doors until this one, after all.

With a huff of impatience, as if she couldn’t be bothered to waste another second of her time - even with safety - the former Queen reached forward, her perfectly manicured hand nearly to the golden inlaid handle despite the Princess Snow’s warnings for caution and the Lady Belle’s wise suggestion that they wait. What appeared as bold unconcern and decisiveness radiated down her spine of steel, held ramrod-straight, but there was a slight tremor in those pale fingers, one he would have missed if he hadn’t been seeking it, just before they closed around the polished metal.

Some strange shiver of foreboding knowledge borne of a life in the forest, in the shadows, constantly on the move, pursued and on the run, made some more-than-tangible knowledge run through him, and Robin’s limbs and muscles were reacting before his mind issued a conscious order. Knowing the proud woman plowing ahead would not heed any words he called out anyway, he had silently reached over his shoulder, pulled an arrow from his quiver, nocked it to his bow, and let it fly before another moment passed, startling Regina enough as its course whistled past her ear to make her jerk back several steps.

The feathered missile embedded in the heavy oaken portal with the solid “thunk” of a shot ringing true, but to the horror of all, rather than remaining there, vibrating from its landing, the arrow was lost from sight as the entire door was engulfed in instantaneous flames.

Watching the blaze which would undoubtedly have devoured her as well had he allowed her to pull open that door before loosing his arrow, Regina paused for mere moments before whipping around, dark eyes flashing, to arrest him angrily. “That arrow nearly took off my head!” she barked, voice as sharp as jagged glass.

Robin shot back, unable to keep himself from rising to the bait. Her lack of gratitude didn’t even surprise him by that point, but he hadn’t intended to be chastised for his quick-thinking aversion of danger either. “Where I come from a simple thank you would have sufficed.”

The regent’s black eyebrow rose in eloquent derision, making her opinion of where he came from quite clear without speaking a word. Yet, despite that hateful, snarling facade he could see the slight tremor he had previously noticed in her pale hands become a full-body quivering that, while still not plainly visible, had to be making it hard for her to remain standing, much less glaring at him with such vitriol. Her full, blood-red-painted lips trembled minutely as well until her perfect white teeth bit into the lower one, stilling it and making him swallow heavily with some reaction he couldn’t explain. She was shaken; that much he knew. But he could understand refusing to admit fear, not being able to let it show for the sake of those who follow, who must see strength to stay their course.

Thankfully, the clearly magical blaze soon expired and the way before them was as clear and unbarred as all the previous entryways they had encountered. Not without a bit of trepidation, but also as brave and determinedly as he had long since learned their hero contingent to be, Prince Charming and Snow pressed forward, followed anxiously by Belle (whom Robin’s heart panged for as she clearly ached to find the man she loved still able to recognize her and navigate his own mind) and the rest of their group. Regina just to the side, looked for all the world as if she were in no particular hurry to enter and see her former mentor, but could instead care less one way or the other. Hanging back, the outlaw of Sherwood Forest made sure the others had passed through the door and into the other room, well out of hearing, before he stepped up to Regina’s side, drawing almost nose-to-nose with her. He then leaned forward practically brushing the shell of her ear as he murmured. “There’s no need to pretend you’re made of stone, your Majesty…” He put precise emphasis on the title which she had let him know in no uncertain terms she preferred upon their first meeting in the forest. “In fact, with the present company, I believe you might get much further by letting them see that you have doubts and fears, just as they do. I know I like you much better seeing you as more than the Evil Queen.”

At her sharp intake of air with his last pronouncement, he pulled back quickly, half expecting a slap to be stinging his skin at any moment. Instead, he found color rising hotly up her neck, her chest rising and falling strenuously in that ridiculously low-cut corseted gown, and her generally looking more flustered and affected than he had ever seen her before.

She opened and closed her mouth soundlessly for several seconds until her tart tongue seemed to return to her, then spit out a quick, “Insolent bandit,” before moving to brush past him and follow the others.

Something in Robin snapped and surged to life in answer to her challenge; not allowing her to push him aside, he grasped her upper arm firmly and held on, her back to the wall and crowding in close to her, until their breaths were mingling in the same air, their faces were so close. Even as his pulse pounded and his heart rate skyrocketed, Robin wondered what had come over him. The woman had maimed and killed, schemed and plotted for her own selfish ends, and stood for everything he had devoted himself to toppling. She was nothing like his beloved Marian had been; someone with whom he would not have imagined sharing a thing in common - and yet he couldn’t fight the pull he felt. The need to imprint upon her not to put her life at risk so needlessly again.

Sweeping forward, he dove into an all-consuming kiss, taking her mouth with his and giving no quarter, delving further instead, and swallowing the whimper and hum that escaped her throat unconsciously, despite her best attempts to remain unaffected.

Regina’s hands grappled blindly at his biceps as if trying to steady herself. She scrabbled for solid support before helplessly melting against him, opening for his questing mouth and giving herself over to the heated embrace. When they finally broke for air, she was breathless, and he huffed out a winded chuckle himself when she managed, “Well, Thief, that really was quite pleasant… Even if you do still smell of forest.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several realms, curses, and years later, in Storybrooke

The three men and their half dozen offspring of various ages creeping through the woods on the border of Storybrooke out near the town line are quiet and intent, completely and unabashedly focused on their prize. Up ahead, atop the small rise of a hill as the sun climbs fully into the cold, clear November morning sky, their prey struts proudly, stopping occasionally to offer its warbled call or peck at the rough ground beneath its feet. They have been tracking the large turkey for some time now, since before day fully dawned, and the time to strike has come at last.

Briefly, the thought flits through Robin’s head that this could be the same tom that had escaped himself and his Merry Men in this same forest years ago, when the hunt had been interrupted by the nightmarish interruption of a winged simian attacker and LIttle John’s subsequent transformation. To this day, the large and otherwise unflappable man stays far away from this particular section of the forest and refuses to go anywhere near the town line on foot. A quick glance at David and his preteen son to the right, then Killian and his little girl and second son to the left, gives him the hint from both men’s expressions that they are also remembering that rather ill-fated day, as bows are readied and last instructions offered.

He can only hope they will face nothing so unexpected this fine morn. The turkey before them has been promised to grace the main table of the large community Thanksgiving feast, and between the three men and their brood of adventurous junior hunters it is a matter of pride that they not return empty-handed today. Roland was promised the first unobstructed shot, and the young man, just barely a teenager but already capable and thoughtful as an adult, has already taken aim and is readying his shot to fly, much to his half-sister Margot’s displeasure as she stands just behind her big brother at Robin’s elbow. She is as untamed and mischievous as Roland is quiet and serious, and was much put out at the decision that Roland as the oldest child should get first chance, arguing rather heatedly that Roland might be biggest but she was the best shot. His blond-braided, green-attired second child is one of the best shots he’s ever seen at barely ten, but if she doesn’t learn to keep her temper and her slightly spoiled younger sibling petulance under control, he is certainly in for further trials in a few years.

Even in the few silent moments afforded him as they all hold their breaths, Rob feels the gratitude and love he has for his children, and the friends and adopted family surrounding them, surge through him with new strength. He had so very nearly left this world, numerous times over, as had the men on either side of him, and the women each of them loved. It was part of the heavy mantle they wore when standing against the Darkness in the world and fighting it back from the light and good time after time. Still, what better time than the present holiday to give thanks for the fact that they are all still standing and present to celebrate together?

Roland lets out a soft breath and then releases the arrow, just as a sharp cry rings out to the left. His son’s aim is true, but the bird is startled from its perch just in time to have the shot glide by beneath its talons as it takes flight. David on his right is already directing Leo to adjust his aim quickly and get off a second shot, even as Robin’s eyes sweep to where Killian is righting Hope from a tumble over a jutting tree root, brushing off her dark leggings and checking her for injury as she clearly struggles to hold back embarrassed and disappointed tears.

What he hasn’t banked on is his daughter’s inability to wait her turn or hold back any longer. Quick as whip, Margot lets fly, striking the bird right as she intends and sending it toppling from the sky. Mouth falling open in surprise at her audacity and her skill in equal measure, Robin can’t help the surge of pride at his daughter’s prowess, even if he knows he should admonish her for taking Leo’s moment from him and wondering if he should be making certain Roland doesn’t feel overshadowed. However, his eldest spares him the trouble when he whoops and claps Margot on the shoulder, crying out “You got him on the fly, Sis! Nice one!”

When the whole group converges together, he decides to let the lecture about abiding by the rules and taking turns slide for the time being upon noticing that Leo looks rather relieved that the pressure to prove his mettle before their quarry escaped has been taken off of his shoulders. Instead, he claps his little girl on the shoulder, squeezing with gentle affection until she looks up at him, beaming. Like her brother before her, she is growing much too fast, turning into a young lady before his eyes, and so for a moment, he lets himself revel in the fact that she still wants to spend time out in the woods with him and wishes to make him proud. Her papa won’t hold the favored spot in her heart forever, so he may as well savor it while he can.

He thinks Killian’s youngest, barely old enough to be tromping around out here with them in truth, looks a bit teary at the downed and unnaturally still bird before them, so he hurries to bag their prize for the journey homeward and puts it out of sight over his shoulder while Killian picks his tired youngest up off his feet and begins asking him how many different types of trees he can recognize from their leaves on the way back. That seems a bit difficult for a five-year-old until little Liam David begins happily babbling (suitably distracted thankfully) and pointing out oaks, maples and scotch pines as the pirate’s unerring sense of direction leads their whole troupe out of the forest toward the main road where they’ve left their trucks, Margot takes his hand, and Hope her grandpa’s, and Roland and Leo fall in behind talking amiably and carrying the bows. Apparently they have a budding naturalist in their midst as well, and Killian Jones - as usual - knows exactly what he is doing.

When he, Roland, and Margot trail back into the mayoral mansion some time later, discarding their muddy boots by the door, but still scattering crumbled leaves and dirt in the entryway, Regina stands in the hall shaking her head, and directs the children toward the laundry room to discard their outerwear before heading up to wash for dinner. She looks at him, trying to muster exasperation, but unable to do so. That flawless Queen is long gone; she has come a long way since they snapped and snarled at each other in self-preservation back in their home realm, neither wanting to fall in love and risk heartbreak again.

Snatching his jacket collar and pulling him in close, Regina nips at his lips playfully before murmuring against his scruffy cheek, “You still smell like forest,” she mocks, “but somehow you’ve managed to steal my heart.”

He shakes his head, offering back words she’d stunned him with once long ago, “That’s not quite the way I remember it. If I recall, your heart was given to me,” he whispers, emotion taking over the jest, “and a person can’t steal what’s been given to him.”

All in all, he’s been given much more than a simple archer from Sherwood Forest could have ever hoped.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kazoosandfannypacks @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @stahlop @anmylica @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @winterbaby89 @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @bdevereaux @thislassishooked

#self promo sunday #ouat thanksgiving ff #ouat canon divergent oneshot #bless what is given you #thanksgiving ff #outlaw queen #swan jones charming mills family ff

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wontune · 4 months

Note

oieee star, poderia fazer uma personalização do felix do skz ? ! 🌧️🎀

Felix ☆ personalização

Locks:

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poisonappleeater · 1 month

Text

Regina x Trans Male Reader !!

regina mills x trans male reader (reminder that this is just in relation to my personal transmasc experience, everyone’s can be vastly different!!)

prompt: regina helping you out w/ dysphoria after rumplestiltskin says some crazy transphobic shit (takes place in storybrooke)

i also tried to not actually trigger anyones gender dysph lmaooooo so i do not get specific about it

Rumplestiltskin looked you up and down with a cold stare.

“I believe that you’re to use the women’s bathroom, dearie.” You felt your face go hot with frustration (and maybe even some embarrassment). God dammit. You just wanted to wash your hands in peace. To be quick and quiet was the best option, so you took a deep breath and scrubbed the soap off your hands with much more vigor and velocity than you had just a few seconds before. The water scalded your hands and turned them a little pinker. Mr. Gold scoffed through his nose.

“Even your low pain tolerance agrees that you are not a man, and it’s likely that you never will be.” Silence no longer felt like your best option. You’d come to Storybrooke as soon as your best friend, Aurora had told you that it would be easier to live as yourself, as a man, in a more modern realm. You didn’t consider that Rumplestiltskin would be trying to get under, well, your skin.

You spoke, as lowly as possible, “What would you know about being a man? You sacrifice your relationships for power. What does that make you?” His gaze faltered, and you felt like you had gotten to him. You also felt just a bit concerned for your safety. Gold took a steady breath and a thourough pause.

“I think that makes me a powerful man. At least more powerful than you. Correct? I recall you coming to me for guidance.” You scoffed, but your lip auivered. Seeking help from Rumplestiltskin back in the Enchanted Forest didn’t make you any less of a man. Everyone had at least once looked for help from the Dark One. Before a salty tear could escape your eye, you fled the men’s restroom and stepped foot back into the welcoming, red-and-blue ambience of Granny’s Diner. You released a shaky sigh and looked for your girlfriend.

Regina. There she was. Even the thought of her made your cheeks warm, despite your prior encounter with Gold. She was chatting comfortably with the Charming’s. Your need for your girlfriend’s warmth made you nearly start running towards your table. She spotted you instantly and smiled genuinely. It was clear you were equally enamored with one another.

“Hey, Y/N,” Regina greeted warmly. She noticed how fast you were walking.

“Hey, hey, slow down, it’s okay.” The well-dressed woman placed a hand on your back and guided you to sit beside her in the booth’s cushiony seat, with your leg touching hers. Regina laughed a little at the sight of you adorably speed-walking to the table. Taking a second glance at you, though, she could tell something bothered you. Your girlfriend’s face darkened with concern.

“Did something happen in the bathroom sweetheart?” Her arm wrapped further around you. Her line of sight travelled behind you when Rumplestiltskin came out of the bathroom.

“That son of a bitch.” Gina was livid. She tried to fathom how Rumplestiltskin could have possibly threatened her boyfriend. He could be up to literally anything. The vein above her right brow bulged so severely you thought it’d burst. You had to admit, her anger was hot. You felt her starting to stand up.

“No, no, Gina. It’s really okay,” you reassured. “No magical threats or sketchy deals were made. Promise.” The woman with burgendy lips looked into your eyes to ensure that you told the truth.

“Okay.” She sighed and crossed her arms, then sat down to kiss your cheek. You leaned in happily. The rest of dinner with the Charmings allowed the two of you to forget about Rumplestiltskin.

…

You locked the front door behind you and Regina and were suddenly too aware of your own body. Friendly chatter from Emma, Killian, David, Snow, and Henry filled your ears just minutes ago. And now, the quiet of Regina’s home flooded your mind with the words of Runplestiltskin.

“Hey, Y/N, baby?” Regina had both hands around your cheeks. You were sitting on the couch. You don’t remember moving at all since getting home. “I was asking you about a movie you wanted to watch, but-“

“Yes! Yeah, I’m sorry. We wanted to watch that movie. I’d love to,” you blurted. You gave your lover a half-smile.

“No. Gold said something to you. He’s plaguing your pretty little head,” she cooed. She sat down beside you and provided you with space to talk with her properly. You smiled at the gesture.

“It was nothing new. He said that I’m not a man. I can’t do anything about that. I feel like a man, but I don’t have the parts.” Regina intook your words with great conscience. Her glossy eyes looked into yours. She spoke after contemplating for a moment.

“If there’s anything I’ve learned from this realm, it’s that rules that we used to abide by back home were not laws of nature. They were laws made by people. And people can be so stupid, my love. That means that we, as smarter people, are allowed to live by rules that fit our logic. And according to my logic, you’re a man, sweetheart, regardless of what body you have. I know that because that’s what you’ve told me, that’s how you truly feel, and that’s how I think of you. You are whatever you think yourself to be. I love you for it, my sweet boy.”

“I love you, Gina. Thank you.” She took her time to memorize your handsome face for the thousandth time.

“Can I come close to you?” your lover asked, gently. You nodded and placed your head in her neck. she took you into her arms and stroked your hair.

“I still want to kill him,” Regina confessed. Her sharp words contradicted the gentle pets that she gave you.

You laughed. “Sure, Gina, just not today.” She couldn’t be upset when you were so calm and cute. Regina kissed your head and chuckled into your ear. You loved the sound of her laugh and the smell of her shampoo. Apple. So fitting.

“Okay, not today,” she sighed lightheartedly. “How about that movie?”

…

Soon, you had both showered and gotten ready for bed. There was no better feeling to you than being clean, on the couch, with your girlfriend about to watch a movie. You laid atop her chest while her legs entrapped your middle. Rumplestiltskin’s comments remained forgotten, and you and Regina remained content.

—

Hope this was okay!! Feel free to comment on anything, if anyone sees this. I’m kinda new to actually writing ff

#once upon a time #ouat #regina mills #evil queen #regina mills x reader #regina mills x transmasc reader #rumplestiltskin #mr gold #writing this made me hate him lmaooo #ugh if only regina were this healthy in canon #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot

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miryum · 2 years

Text

Fire, Sword Fights, and Secrets (Peter Pan x Reader)

Based off of this request: Peter Pan x reader and reader comes and they eventually fall for each other (not without some banter ofc)

Use of my OC: Ayden (he’s your best friend!)

Warnings: Daggers and a sword fight. Hostage situation. Pls tell me if I missed anything

“Where the hell am I?” You yell, “Who are you?”

“I’m Peter.” The boy in front of you grins, “Peter Pan. Welcome to Neverland.”

“N-Neverland?” You stutter, backing away from the boy, “Why am I here?”

“So many questions.” Peter tsks, “But I guess I can answer you that.” He spread his arms to the surrounding forest and camp, “You’re a Lost Girl, so I brought you here. Where all who are Lost come.”

“But- But I’m not lost.” You argue, slowly backing away from him even more. Your back hits a tree, “And Peter Pan? Aren’t you just a children’s story?”

Peter laughs, “That’s what everyone thinks. But I promise you I’m not just a children’s tale. I’m very real.” Peter winks at you.

“No.” You mutter, “I’m not Lost. I wanna go back home.”

“I’m sorry, darling,” Pan chuckles, shaking his head, “But there is no escaping Neverland.”

You shake your head, not wanting to believe him.

Turning, you sprint away from the boy who took you from your home and family. You run through the trees, your feet thumping along dirt and grass. Your breathing is labored, but you can’t give up.

You finally burst from the trees, but skid to a stop atop a tall cliff. “What?” For miles around, all you can see is clear water, shimmering under the setting sun.

“Are you done?” A voice asks and you whirl around to see Peter smirking at you, “I told you darling, you can’t leave Neverland.”

“I’m not coming with you!” You shout.

“Alright.” He shrugs, “Then I’m going to have to make you stay.”

Peter snaps his finger and the cliff disappears. You materialize in his camp with rope tied around your arms, legs, and torso, strapping you to a tree.

Pan appears next to you, leaning against the tree, “I’m sorry love, but this is for your own good.”

You growl, lunging towards him, but the rope holds you back.

Still struggling against your binds, you take a look around you and see the place that Peter calls home.

There’s a fire pit in the center of the camp with tents, supplies, and Lost Boys scattered around. There’s some treehouses in the branches of the neighboring trees and a table set up a little farther away.

Some boys gather around, mumbling to each other.

“Boys!” Peter calls, “Let’s welcome our newest and only Lost Girl! Y/n L/n!” The boys muttered and some cheered and clapped.

“How do you know my name?” You fumble with your bonds but to no avail.

“Love, I know everything about you.” He said, letting the Lost Boys get back to what they were doing. “You’ve always felt as if you didn’t belong- even though you had family and friends. You want to make people proud, but once you do, you don’t like yourself. You like being alone, but not being lonely.”

You stay silent, realizing he had you figured out perfectly.

“You really are a Lost Girl.” Pan whispers, “You’ll learn to love Neverland.”

“No I won’t!” You argue, “I will never love Neverland! And I’ll never come close to even liking you.”

Peter smiles, “We’ll see about that.”

***

It’s been a little over a month since you arrived on the island and you still hate Peter. True, he had released you from your ropes soon after you had arrived, and he even gave you a treehouse that was right next to his. But you still hate him!

“Y/n, are you coming to the fire tonight?” Ayden, one of your only friends on the island, pops his head into your treehouse.

“No.” You mumble, sitting on your bed.

“Why not?” Ayden climbs in, sitting next to you, “You haven’t gone to one the entire time you’ve been here!”

“And I don’t ever intend to.”

“Why not?” Ayden bumps your shoulder with his.

“The music.” You shake your head, “Peter’s pipe. It means I belong here and I don’t wanna belong here.”

“Have you ever realized that you’re the only one he allows to call him Peter? Everyone else has to call him Pan.”

“Really?” You say, glancing at him,“I’ve never really noticed.”

“I think he likes you more than most.” Your friend says.

“Eh.” You lift one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, “I don’t think so. He doesn’t like me.”

“Or do you not like him?”

You pause, looking at Ayden, “I- no. He doesn’t like me. He took me away from my friends and family against my will! If you like someone, you wouldn’t do that to them.”

Ayden gives you a look that says are-you-stupid, “He took you away because you’re a Lost Girl. He takes everyone away from someone in their life- but it’s for their own good. A lot of us didn’t like it at first, but then we made a home here on Neverland- we made a new family. And plus, he didn’t know he was gonna like you when he took you away.”

You groan, plopping your head into your hands, “I hate it when you’re right.”

He chuckles, “You better get used to that.” Ayden throws an arm over you and pulls you to his side at his attempt at a hug, “So are you coming to the fire?”

You hesitate, “Fine.” Ayden cheers before you interrupt him, “But I’m not gonna like it.”

“Fine by me!”

“Do you realize how rude you are?”

“Yep!”

***

“You finally came.” You look over your shoulder to see Peter standing over you and you scoff, turning back to face the fire.

“What’s it to you?”

Peter sits down next to you, “Just wanna make sure my Lost Girl is doing okay. I’m glad Ayden got you to come down and join us.”

You shake off a confused feeling, “Ayden said something weird today.”

“Oh yeah?” Peter smirks, “And what’s that?”

“You only let me call you Peter. And that you like me more than practically anyone else here.”

Peter hums, “Well, he’s right. I never realized he was so observant. I could use that to my advantage.” He muses, not noticing your surprise.

“Wait,” You interrupt his thought process, “So, you do like me? This hatred is one-sided?”

“Love, it was always one-sided.” Peter’s face is illuminated in the fire, the flames dancing across him, making him look ethereal, “I never hated you. Would you really think I would keep someone here if I hated them?”

“No.” You mumbled, looking anywhere but him.

“Exactly.”

You both sit in silence for a while before Pan gets out his pipe and starts playing it. Unlike previous music which was fun and lively, this time the melody is a sadder… almost bittersweet.

You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to comfort yourself in a hug, listening to the haunting music float through the air.

Peter looks over at you and stops playing when he notices a tear running its way down your cheek.

“Darling,” He whispers, wiping it from your face, “Why are you so unhappy?”

“Because I’m happy.” You reply, “I like it here- but I don’t wanna like it. I feel as if I’m supposed to want to go home to my family and want to be with them but I don’t. I want to stay here. But I feel like I’m betraying my family because I feel like that. I’m so conflicted and confused. Nothing makes sense.”

“Well,” Peter leans back on his hands, “You know you want to stay here, right?” You nod, and he continues, “So that makes sense. And I know I want you to stay. So that makes sense.”

“Can I have a hug?” You ask meekly after a few seconds have gone by.

Pan chuckles and raises an eyebrow, “I thought you hated me.”

“Shut up.”

He grins and pulls you close to him, wrapping an arm around you and letting your arms wrap around his torso. Peter sighs, resting his cheek on your hair.

Lost Boys stare, never having seen their leader this intimate and open with anyone before.

“I’m sorry.” You break the hug, shuffling back away from him.

“What for?”

“For being this clingy and weird.”

“It’s alright.” He faintly smiles, “It’s normal for people to not like Neverland when they first come. I’m just glad that you ended up liking it.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

***

You stab at Pan, your dagger barely missing its mark. Peter blocks the move with his own dagger, the metals clinking against each other.

You two whirl and dodge through the trees, your hits getting closer and closer every single time.

Peter’s face is furrowed with concentration and your teeth grit from irritation.

“Dammit, just die already, will ya?” You huff, taking another lunge at him, Peter barely ducking out of the way.

“It’ll take more than that to kill me, darling.” Peter grins his annoying grin before taking another jab at you.

You counter his attack and force him up against a tree, your knife to his throat, “I finally won, didn’t I?” You let out a laugh.

“Did you though, darling?” You feel Peter’s dagger pressed against your back and you intensively arch away from it.

Rolling your eyes you mutter, “Seems we’re at an impasse.”

“Do you forfeit?”

“Never.”

The dagger presses harder against you and in turn, you press your own blade harder against Pan.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You warn.

“Then admit that you lost.”

Your eyebrows furrow, but you don’t say anything.

Peter sighs, looking a bit bored, “Love, I could do this all day.”

“So could I.” You counter. You then become painstakingly aware of how close your bodies are. You’re pressed up against Peter, hardly any room between the two of you.

Peter, noticing your discomfort, smirks, “Could you do this all day?” He asks teasingly, “Or did you say that just for show?”

“I hate you.” You push away from Pan, forfeiting the training session he was currently giving you.

“You love me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I’ll get you to say it sometime, darling.”

After the night at the bonfire, two months ago, your relationship with Peter was much more teasing than it had been.

You frequently had sword and dagger fights and with those fights came a lot of close bodily contact. You attended all of the bonfires now, and Pan seemed to always seek you out during those nights. He was getting much more protective of you, letting only a few Lost Boys talk to you.

And even though you didn’t want to admit it, you had begun to develop feelings for Peter. It had started soon after that night when he opened up to you and let you hug him- something that everyone agreed was very unusual.

“Maybe I wanna say that I love you.” You mumble quietly.

And maybe it was just your imagination, but you thought that Peter might like you back. He was always his overconfident self, but you would be oblivious if you pretended you couldn’t see the way he looked at you- with kindness and love in his eyes. The small smiles that appeared on his lips whenever you talked. How he hovered near you whenever you talked to another Lost Boy. His winks across the fire. How he looked at you like you were his whole world.

“What was that, darling?” Pan said cockily.

“I’m sure you heard me.” You counter, “You are the King of Neverland after all.”

“That I am.” Peter said, “But why don’t you say it once more just so I can be certain?”

“I love you.” You admit, sighing, “I wasn’t supposed to say anything because it might mess up our entire relationship and you might not even like me back, let alone love me, but these months have been fantastic and spending time with you has been wonder-”

Peter cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours.

He backs you up against a tree, his hands going to your waist as your arms wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss. Your lips move in sync, and you feel as if everything has come together.

“I love you too.” Peter says after you break apart, “Thought you might wanna know.”

You laugh before reaching up and kissing him again.

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