peter pan alternative

there will be time (requested)

I forget all my dreams
I forget everyones name I meet
I forget about time and space
But I can’t stop thinking about your face

Turning points are, someone says, a point at which a significant change occurs. Be it for better or for worse as it may, once it’s happened, there is no turning back.

At least that’s what you’ve been led to believe.

The day it all changed, the light was so very bright that you could barely keep your eyes open. The Sun kept hiding behind the clouds, demanding that Peter stopped talking to the Moon, with whom he had fought the day before; however, his violent rays shone through the thick layer of an upcoming storm.

Back then, it seemed like a normal day. You had woken up with Peter by your side (which had been surprising, but you hadn’t paid much attention to it), all mussed hair and sleepy eyes; you had smiled down at him, blinded by happiness, and he had smiled back, pulling you down into a slow, lazy kiss.

Once down for breakfast, the boys had greeted you, passing you your cup of herb infuse and patting Peter on the shoulder.

“Good night, Pan?”

You had glared at them, scoffing into your plate.

“You’re supposed to be children!” you had told them, making them snigger.

The laugh had quieted down soon, leaving an unnatural silence in the air. The light, as blinding as before, had kept shining.

A point at which a significant change occurs.

Looking back on it now, you think you know when the change occurred.

Later that day, Peter had completely disappeared. The boys couldn’t tell you where he had gone, nor they had seemed to notice that something was off. Even Felix, who was usually glued to Pan’s side, hadn’t known.

A point that turns.

Turns what?

Time. Space?

Life, perhaps?

Does it turn on itself? Does it turn you around?

You had found Peter in a cave. He had been sitting down on the ground, head between his arms, hiding his face from the world.

You remember kneeling in front of him, unsure if you could touch him.

“Peter,” you had whispered. “What’s wrong?”

He hadn’t moved from his position. However, he had started talking.

“I can’t stop this,” he had said, and he had sounded so wrecked, so utterly helpless that you had automatically wrapped your arms around his boy, only to find out that he’d been trembling.

“Can’t stop what?”

“It’s changing, (y/n). I don’t know how to stop this. I don’t k-know…”

Peter had cried, then, unable to say anything more.

“Peter,” you had said. “Peter, I need you to tell me. What is changing? What’s happening?”

Between hiccups, Peter had muttered: “The world is changing. I’m not- I tried to stop this, but there’s no way. I tried and I can’t and it’s happening, (y/n), it’s happening…”

“Okay,” you had said, inhaling shakily. “Okay, Peter. We can work this out, just… where is this happening? Where do we need to go?”

Peter had finally raised his head from the crook of his arm and had looked at you, slowly and painfully, staring into your eyes and petrifying you to the spot, draining you from every bravery you could have had moments before.

“It’s in my head. Everything is in my head.”

You don’t remember much more after that.

You remember his lips moving, saying words you couldn’t hear because suddenly everything went white, way whiter than the sunlight of that very morning, brighter than the sparkle in Peter’s eyes when he looked at you, stronger and more devastating than anything you’d ever seen.

And then there were none.


High school is, in the eyes of a teenager, the bane of one’s existence.

Too much people, all gathered in a single building, with god knows how many hormones circulating in their blood, walk through too small corridors, talking with each other. Screams, laughs, complains accompany the life of an average seventeen years old during a break from lessons.

You don’t have many friends.

You think you don’t need many people around yourself, if you have few loyal ones. That’s why your little gang is composed basically of three people: a girl named Selene, a guy that everyone calls Curly (even you don’t know his real name) and yourself.

You meet up at lunch, sharing a table in the cafeteria, far away from the popular ones, who always gather around the bigger tables in the middle of the room (do they need to show off like that? Is it required from their status?).

The popular ones (or the “bunch of dicks”, as Curly calls them) are loud, and usually snickering all the time. They appear to be unable to sit properly, instead choosing to sit on the table while they eat. Show-offs.

Among them, there is what most people call a “leader”, and what you and your friends call “the alpha”.

His name is Peter, but everyone calls him Pan, as an abbreviation of his surname (which is pretty stupid, considering that Pan was a respectable god, not at all similar to the Jerk).

He always sits in the middle of the group, like a priest with his loyal followers. A smirk graces his red lips at all times, and he never fails to wear something green in his outfit.

The popular ones are attracted to him in a pretty ridiculous way: it’s likely that all of them want to fuck him, or have done that already. They are enchanted by the way he speaks, by the way he moves and shines in a weird way, like he was once a star which had then fallen to Earth.

He’s always with a guy named Felix, all blond hair and American smiles. If girls don’t fall for Peter, they fall for Felix; sometimes they do both.

The others from the popular ones are only a blur around these two, like asteroids circulating around two bright stars.

You know them.                                                                                          

You’ve never spoken to them before (of course you haven’t, you’re normal) but you’re sure you know them.

Just like you were sure about Curly when you met him for the first time two months ago.

You remember meeting your friend vividly. He was sitting alone under a tree, reading a heavy book about wat techniques. You remember approaching him involuntarily, smiling down at him and peeking from above his head.

hppp“What are you reading, Curly?” you asked, the name running easily on your tongue, a strange feeling of memory and familiarity tinging in your heart.

He looked up at you with a wide smile, and then exclaimed happily: “Oh, (y/n)! Good morning!”

Then, you both frowned, because he wasn’t supposed to know your name, just like you weren’t supposed to know his.

“Uhm,” you remember asking, “have we met somewhere before?”

“I was about to ask you the same question” he replied, smiling once more, this time shyly.

This was where it all started.

You talked everyday, walked together to class, had lunch together. It was good, it felt right, like coming home after a long journey.

You also remember seeing Peter Pan for the first time. You were with Curly at the time, in the main hallway. Your lockers being close to each other allowed you to speak easily during classroom changes.

Peter was leaning against his locker, a few metres away from you.

You remember being in the middle of a sentence when your eyes caught sight of him, and you remember stopping abruptly, your breath cut off suddenly.

“(y/n),” Curly said, “are you alright?”

You remember shrugging, without glancing away.

It was strange, you thought, how you hadn’t seen him before. Ever.

Sure, the school was big, but his locker was relatively close to yours, and he was clearly one of the beautiful. And yet, you didn’t know he was in your school until that moment.

“It’s him,” you told Curly, involuntarily. You didn’t understand why you were so sure of who he was, and you didn’t understand why seeing him had shook you like that.

“What?” Curly asked, following your eyes and gazing at Peter’s figure. “Are we talking about the Jerk?”

Finally looking away, you stared at Curly.

“Jerk?” you repeated weakly.

“Peter the Jerk Pan, of course. The biggest dickhead of them all.”

“I’ve never seen him before,” you commented, feeling like you were lying. It felt wrong, because you knew the boy. You just didn’t know why.

“Strange. He’s a show-off. Literally. He bathes himself in attention and compliments. God, do I despise him!”

Curly had that way of talking sometimes, a bit like he came directly from another century.

You don’t remember much more about that conversation. However, what you do remember is looking at Peter once again, only to find him staring right back at you, eyes wide and smirk not in place, for once.

He mouthed something, frowning slightly right after. Then, he turned his back on you, and walked closer to a pretty girl with dark blonde locks and shiny blue eyes, approaching her from behind.

“I’m not sure I want to speak to you now, (y/n). Leave. Go back to the treehouse, and stay there. Actually, no, do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t care.”

“Are you going to stay with her all the time? That’s all I’m asking.”

“I’m going to stay with her for as long as she needs it. You’re being selfish.”

Peter turned his back on you, walking away fast and firm to Wendy’s house. You stayed silent, your eyes on the ground, holding back tears but refusing to cry.

“(y/n). (y/n)! What’s wrong? Are you okay?!”

Curly’s voice reached you, pulling you back from what looked to be like a memory, a sort of deja-vu.

“Yes,” you felt yourself saying. “Yes, I’m okay.”

“(y/n). You do realize you’re crying, right? Does it hurt anywhere?”

You touched your face, and found it wet with tears. You didn’t remember staring to cry.

“I’m not sure why I’m crying. I guess I just remembered something bad.”

So there it is, that’s your life.

Strangely, you feel like you’re living in moments and pieces, like your life is not complete except for the times you’re with Curly, or you see the popular ones. Like you don’t belong, and you don’t remember what you ate for dinner the day before.

Overall, it doesn’t feel like your life at all.


It’s during biology class, later on, that it happens again.

When you enter the classroom, he’s there. How haven’t you noticed him before?

He’s sitting in the first row, right in front of the teacher, which is weird, considering the overall stereotype of a “popular boy”. He’s supposed to be sitting in the back, doing noises and disturbing the whole lesson. But he isn’t. And the spot beside him is empty.

You slide into the desk next to him easily, like you’ve sat close to him a million times before, sharing secret smiles and meaningful glances.

But that did not happen. So why are you smiling?

A turning point is a point that turns the events unexpectedly. Apparently, it’s defective.

He looks at you, raising his eyebrows, but doesn’t comment on your choice of seating.

When the beautiful girl comes, he tells her to find another place, since obviously the one next to him is taken.

“It’s not my fault people have the will to decide where to sit, Wen. Christ.”

The girl (Wendy, your mind whispers) scowls at you, and storms off.

Peter, sighing deeply, turns to speak to you.

“Sorry about that,” he says sheepishly. “She’s so intolerable sometimes. It’s not about you, though. She’s probably angry at me because I didn’t save a spot for her. Though I’m not sure why I’m telling you all of this.”

He frowns (again), his eyes searching your whole face for something. You suspect you’re looking for the same thing.

“It’s fine,” you tell him, showing a little smile. “I should have known your girlfriend would want to sit with you. I’m sorry.”

Peter grimaces and turns to look straight ahead, facing the blackboard.

“Right. Like I said, it’s not your fault.”

He stays silent for a while, fumbling with his pencil and tapping it lightly on the desk.

Then, suddenly, he turns again, and stares right into your eyes.

His eyes are green, you notice; they’re full of blue wells, and green forests, with trees and clearings and silver streaks of stars.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“What’s your name?” the boy in green asked, kneeling before you to meet your gaze.

He looked trustworthy, you thought. He looked like he could protect you from the fires and bring you the stars.

His smile was gentle as he untangled you from the ropes. The pirates had long gone, leaving you behind on accident. The captain would be angry with them.

“I’m (y/n),” you tell him, biting your lip, the memory still vividly impressed on your mind.

“I’m (y/n),” you told him, voice shaking just a little.

You stood, finally free, and watched him warily.

“Who are you?” you asked.

“Do you know who I am?” he says next. He must have realized how that sounded, because he blushes the tiniest bit, looking away from your face.

Heart warmed with something that speaks of home and tranquillity, you answer: “The only thing I know about you is your name.”

“I’m Peter. You can call me that, or Pan if you prefer. I’m the king of this island, even though there are no kings here.”

You made a face.

“How can that be?”

He smiled mischievously, offering a hand for you to take.

“You’ll learn there are few impossible things here. Come with me.”

He’s about to say something more, but the professor enters the classroom, shouting about homework and today’s lesson.

However, you notice that a cute, genuine smile never leaves his face after that.

(“See you around, (y/n)” he says at the end of the class, hand in hand with the beautiful girl, but facing you totally, like he wants to get drunk on the sight of you. You smile, nodding and waving your hand to say goodbye.)


Senior prom is the most stupid thing the world has ever invented.

Curly thinks the same. What’s the point, he argues, in dressing up in rented uncomfortable dresses to spend a night full of hypocrisy in the company of people you will never speak to ever again in your life?

You can’t help but agree as you walk through hallways and posters of couples running for the titles of prom king and queen, their smiles shining vividly (and clearly photoshopped).

Peter’s girlfriend is also one of the candidates, even though she runs for it alone. You’re pretty sure you saw Peter tear off posters of his face on the first day.

You also remember giggling about it, and drawing his attention to you for a second. He rewarded you with a wink, as he tore off yet another paper and stormed off to another corridor.

You and Peter talk more these days.

He shares P.E. with you as well (and why does he seem to appear only now?), and Economics. The beautiful girl doesn’t; she stares at you in the hallway, though, with fires burning in her light eyes. You suspect she doesn’t like you much (“and you don’t have to like her, either” Curly says).

The memories keep coming to surface.

At first they’re just visions, and they last something like two or three seconds. They always happen when Peter is around, and they’re usually coming from the way he smiles, or the way he scratches his nose.

You see a boy identical to him, sometimes a bit younger, always dressed in leaves and wood, holding a knife, or a flower, or both.

You see a forest, a river, a lake with sirens. You see the sky and the clouds and the stars.

They’re gone before you can properly remember them, though.

The most vivid vision so far happened when Peter brushed his elbow against yours in Economics, when he stole Curly’s spot while your friend was at the loo.

“You know that’s taken, right?” you asked him.

He smirked, and took out his books and pens.

“Yeah, well, he didn’t leave anything here so technically it’s not.”

“Why are you sitting here, Peter?” you sighed. “You know your people are going to talk about it.”

“Let them,” he answered. “The place I sit being a subject of discussion is something I honestly find ridiculous.”

You laughed, and his eyes lit up as well. And gosh, it felt wonderful.

“Right, fair point.”

Curly came back, an uneasy expression on his face the moment he spotted Peter in his seat.

“Get lost, Pan,” he said, gesturing at the boy to stand and go sit somewhere else. “I was here first.”

“My, my, mate, are we salty. You know this is a free country, right? I have the right to sit here as much as you do.”

Sure,” Curly says, gritting his teeth. “But I. Was. Here. First.”

People stared. You leaned towards Peter to whisper something to your friend, and that’s when it happened again, only stronger than it ever had.

“Pan, I was sitting here first! She’s supposed to show me how to carve wood tonight!”

The boy in green looked at the curly one, unimpressed.

“She can show you another day, Curly. I want to sit here.”

The boy glared at Peter, and then looked at you. “Please tell him you promised me.”

In that moment, the sky rumbled, showing thunders between its clouds. You looked up for a moment, and then spoke to Curly: “I think we can do that another day, alright Curly? Tomorrow I’m all yours.”

Curly sighed, agreed and left.

When he was far enough, you turned around to stare at Peter.

“You are a piece of shit, you know?”

Peter smirked, raising his hands to defend himself.

“That might be true, but you like me.”

“Do I? I’m not so sure.”

“I know of a way to make you like me, darling.”

You smirked, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Oh, do you? Then go on. Show me.”

Curly backed off, probably reading something in your expression that said it was better to leave it be.

Looking at Peter, you found a similar feeling in his eyes: suspect, wonder, questioning.

He didn’t look at you for the rest of the week.

Three days before the infamous social event, which you swore to boycott along with Curly, Peter comes to Biology class on his own, and sits next to you without preambles.

“Are you coming to prom?” he asks, not bothering to greet you first.

“Hello to you, too, Peter,” you tell him.

He huffs, lifting his hair while he do so, and nudges your chair with his foot.

“Well, are you?”

You sigh, turning on your chair to sit towards him.
“I hate proms. And I think this prom in particular is even more useless and stupid than the other ones. So, no, basically I am not going to prom.”

Peter whines, and reaches to touch your hand, which is resting on the table.

The treehouse was silent, as the world outside. Nights on Neverland were usually quiet, only disturbed by the sound of the wind blowing through the trees.

Your hand laid on the covers of the mattress, intertwined with Peter’s. He had made the ceiling open, showing the night sky in full glory.

“Do you think they notice if we’re sad?” you asked.

“I don’t know. They can be pretty selfish sometimes.”

You stayed silent, squeezing his hand tighter. The stars, upon you two, shone bright.

“Are you sad here?” he asked quietly.

You turned your head to the right to look at Peter.

“I am the happiest I’ve ever been.”

He smiled, turning as well, and got closer to you until your noses touched.

He took a deep breath, and opened his mouth…

Peter retreats his hand, inhaling sharply and staring at you, eyes wild and shocked.

“Please tell me I’m not the only one who saw that” he whispers, clenching his hands into fists.

You shake your head imperceptibly, gulping. You saw that too. Of course you did.

Peter exhales shakily. The professor comes in, of course he does, and asks the class for silence.

“(y/n),” Peter says, tilting towards you. “Come to prom. Come and we can talk or something. I don’t… I don’t know what’s going on with me anymore.”

You simply nod.

“I don’t know what’s going on either.”

Curly will have to surrender to you, somehow, because you sure as hell aren’t going alone.


“You owe me your firstborn for this.”

“You’re being dramatic, Curly.”

“I am not.”

You and your friend walk down the path to the school, your heels loud on the asphalt, his suit uncomfortable.

“This thing itches” is the first thing he said to you when you opened the door. “And I despise you, (y/n).”

Music can be heard from inside the building, and a row of balloons mark the way to the gym where prom is happening.

“Why are we doing this? Why are we conforming to the mass?”

You huff, taking your friend’s hand and pulling him close.

“We’re here because it’s going to be… tolerable. Maybe you can dance with Selene and tell her about the huge crush you have on her.”

Curly blushes, and you’re sure he’s hoping it will get by unnoticed. No such luck.

“Stop blushing, you idiot. She’s madly in love with you.”

“What are you going to do if I dance with her all the time? Assuming that’ll happen, obviously.”

You shrug, taking a deep breath and entering the door.

“I’m gonna try to spike the punch, obviously.”

Curly snickers, and spots Selene almost immediately. She looks lovely, wearing a lilac long dress with compliment her light her so, so well.

“Go get her, tiger,” you whisper in Curly’s ear.

You watch the two of them as they greet and begin talking, the spark of affection clear in their eyes. As you turn around to approach the buffet, a glass of something appears in front of you, attached to the figure of a very handsome boy.

“How are you doing tonight, Ma’am?” he asks, smiling kindly.

Peter is wonderful. He wears a dark green smoking, complete with a black bowtie, and his hair are styled for once, every bang going in the right direction. His cheeks are slightly flushed and his eyes sparkle. He’s in his element, of course.

You take the glass, rewarding the boy with a smile, and take a sip.

“Is this alcohol?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“No one shall know, my lady!” he answers, all giggles and teeth. He’s tipsy.

You indulge his behaviour, drinking again and then placing the glass on the nearest table.

“Are you ready to be prom king, sir?”

Peter sighs, hands in his pockets and glancing around furtively.

“I sure as hell am not. I wish Wen never entered that stupid competition. We fought all day and I’m pretty sure she broke up with me at some point. I just don’t care about being king of an idiot thing like this.”

Remembering the shattered memory from the first day you met him, you step closer.

“And what would you like to be the king of?”

He seems to ponder his answer, biting his lip softly.

“I’d like to have an island as my kingdom,” he admits, as he scans your whole figure.

“You look good tonight, (y/n).”

You feel yourself blushing as you scratch your neck, embarrassed.

“You don’t look bad yourself, Peter.”

He smiles. It’s so beautiful.

“Shall we have a look around? If you’re not with your friends, that is.”

You look back past your shoulder and find Curly and Selene close to each other, almost whispering as they never glance away from each other.

“I’m sure they’re pretty busy,” you comment ironically. Then, a thought passes through your mind, and you frown.

“Why would you want to be with me, of all people?”

Peter doesn’t seem to understand. Confused, he replies: “Why wouldn’t I want to? It’s not like I’m up for listening to my probably ex-girlfriend’s whines all night.”

“Yeah, but… Peter you have tons of friends. And girls who are watching you right now, hoping to dance with you tonight. Why did you ask me to come?”

Peter sighs, a hand coming through his perfect hair.

“Look, (y/n). I don’t— I’m not sure I can explain this to you. Don’t you feel like… like we orbit around each other? Because that’s what I feel. It’s what I’ve felt for weeks, and I kept wondering how I hadn’t known you before. I’m not—I just want to understand. Because I feel like this is far from normal. God, I’m ranting, aren’t I? Fuck. Sorry…”

You raise a hand, not daring to touch him yet.

“I know what you mean. I know. But I’m normal, and you’re amazing. Isn’t there, like, a school rule against us talking?”

Peter laughs. It’s an open, free laugh.

“I’m known for breaking rules all the time, (y/n). Try me!”

Peter is unbelievable. You’ve only ever known him as the Jerk, or the idiot alpha of an equally idiot group of minions, but he’s not. He’s more.

“You’re something, Peter.”

He looks at you, and it’s familiar, it’s home. He offers you his hand.

“Dance with me. Please.”

You take a deep breath. Then, you take his hand.

Once again, the night sky was glittering, heavy with the light of all the galaxies. Shining around you and Peter, though, were other lights, alive and burning. The fairies giggled as their figures lit up and flew around you, drawing bright patterns of light in the air.

Peter held your hand hesitantly, trembling just slightly. You smiled, getting closer to his body, and put your head on his shoulder, barely touching the bare skin above his collarbones.

Peter exhaled over your head and began moving, at first clumsily and then gaining confidence in his paces. His hand held your firmly now, guiding you to move to the sound of the stars, who were singing for your dance.

You danced around the lights slowly, but passionately, like there was nothing else that could stop or distract you from inhaling Peter’s scent and feeling his warm body against yours.

You raised your head and stared into his eyes. There, you found fondness, serenity, blinding happiness in the form of sparks.

“You’re too tall,” you told him, partially to distract yourself from the atmosphere, which was heavy with expectations and something that terribly resembled love.

Peter smirked at that, and held you even closer.

“Perhaps you’re just too short,” he said, eyebrows raised.

“Shut up, Peter” you whispered, your face close to his. You could count the shades of green in his eyes, and the freckles on his cheeks.

Make me, (y/n)” he replied smoothly. Therefore, of course, you complied, and lounged forward to kiss him on the mouth.

The stars sang louder, the fairies joined them, shining even brighter, surrounding you in light.

Peter’s mouth was exactly as you expected: sweet, soft and full of unsaid words.

He let out a little sigh of relief, releasing the tension he must have been holding inside before, and deepened the kiss, asking for entrance with his tongue.

You let him, curling one hand in his hair as he explored your mouth, stealing your breath and making your heart pound. You felt his smile in the kiss, the same smile of a little kid exploding with joy and pleasure.

As you pulled away, red-cheeked and out of breath, eyes sparkling as they reflected in Peter’s, you felt the same smile curving your lips, and forming a grin.

You don’t realize you closed your eyes until you open them again and find yourself close to Peter, closer than you’ve ever been, foreheads touching, bodies flushed close.

Peter is staring at you, with a gobsmacked expression, and eyes full of wonder and knowledge and tenderness.

“I know you,” he whispers, clutching your hand in his. “I know you better than anyone.”

You exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and your gaze falls on his lips, which are red and inviting and familiar. Peter’s lips feel like home.

You know this boy, just as he knows you. Memories come rushing down, slamming into your mind with the force of the ocean, and you remember. You pick up every piece and pierce it together, connecting the broken memories and gaining new ones, which complete the others.

You remember falling in love with Peter, you remember your jealousy when Wendy came stumbling out of nothing, you remember the days of happiness and the days of sorrow, the smiles and the pain and the tears. You remember the stars, and the dancing. You remember Peter and the boys, your treehouse, the camp, the forest, Neverland. You remember it all.

You immediately know he remembers too, because there’s awareness in his expression, and he’s breathing out love from every pore.

“I can’t believe we found each other,” he says, tilting back a little to breathe deeply. “I can’t believe I’m this much in love with you,” he adds, giggling.

“Yes,” you breathe, feeling the stares of everyone else on you. “I could say the same.”

Peter dares to look around, blushes bright red and challenges the crown with a proud glance.

“I am better than these people,” he comments. “All they can do is stare, apparently.”

You push him lightly, a laugh breaking the heavy atmosphere. You search the room for Curly, and you find him staring, as well. But what you see isn’t hate, or betrayal, or anger: what you see is knowledge, and a small smile that says I remember it, too.

“Don’t be a jerk, Peter.”

He grins, the smile taking up almost entirely his expression.

“But you love me,” he says, whining.

You sigh deeply, and guide him out of the room, away from the people who don’t know you.

As he closes the gym door behind himself, you turn around, and you tilt your head to the side.

“We should find the others.”

He nods. “Yes, we should.”

“Shall we go home afterwards?” you ask, a mischievous smile painting your lips.

He smirks, and nods again.

“Yes, we shall.”

emma’s corner: i know what you’re thinking. what is she doing, posting useless shit when we’re waiting for that damn ditmas chapter. I KNOW. but this is something to keep you occupied while i gather my shit together and actually star organizing my time. anyway, this was totally a self-indulgent fic, very american and all that, requested by THIS LITTLE FAIRY. i hope you enjoy it. and i hope i can actually get to the real deal soon and tell you about Felix. Until next time, friends!

Alternate Dimension: Honey

Hey there! I think I am not the only who wished to have a Peter Pan in their life, right? So, I decided to somewhat bring Neverland to the real world. Provide an alternate dimension to Peter Pan. Oh how I wish it was real….

Anywaaays… Enjoy!

School. Teachers would call it a place of knowledge, where its students would come to learn new things.

Well, that’s their point of view being an educator.

For you (and most of the other students), it’s way more than that. It’s the only place where teens like you could find power above others. Sounds like Neverland, really. Most of the times, it was achieved through fear. Kindness do exist, but that would be rare in this millennial; in this school at least. Everyone just want to be on top. Fame, popularity, who wouldn’t want that?

As far as you know it, you were an exception to that. Initially, of course you were tempted to gain that fame, to be known among the students. But after a month into your 10th grade, you decided popularity isn’t for you.

Back seats were meant for you. You wouldn’t speak up or volunteer yourself. All you wanted was to graduate from this school with a well-enough grade and no trouble along the way. One could say, being invisible is your niche. But then again, being very close friends with a famous guy was not helping you at all.

“Hey, y/n.” A gruffed voice greeted you as you pulled out those heavy books from your bag and placed it in your locker. Without looking up, you knew extremely well who that would be, your best friend.

“Hi, Felix.” You replied with a slightly upbeat voice.

You zipped up your bag and slammed the locker door. Typical problematic locker. You turned to Felix who was leaning his body against the locker beside.

“Any plans for tonight?” Felix asked.

You took a pause before deciding on your answer to his question, giving yourself some time to deliberate on whether you should go or not. Most of the time, you would just wish to stay at home and relax on that comfy couch. But then again, it has been too long since you spent time with Felix. Especially with him busy training for the school’s basketball team.


“Pan’s having a party at his house. He asked me to invite you along.”

“Felix…” Before you could turn down his offer, he interrupted.

“Come on! It’s been so long since we got to hang out.”

“Of course, with your training getting in the way and you being such buddies with Pan…” It might have sounded as if you were jealous but you were actually not. You knew very well that no matter who else Felix was being good friends with, your close bond with Felix could never be broken. You could always count on him if you ever need a listening ear. That was one thing you have always admired about Felix.

Silence filled the air between you as you thought hard of your decision.

“Come on, honey.” That’s Felix’s nickname for you.

“Alright, fine! I’ll go. But you must promise me not to leave me alone. The moment you do that, I’ll find my own ride home.”

“Yayy!” He jumped for joy, like a kid that was just given a candy. “We wouldn’t want that… If anything ever happened to you, Dad would kill me for sure.”

You raised your eyebrows as you gave him that ‘you-know-it’ look.

“Alright! I’ll pick you up at 7. Don’t be late!” His voice fades away as he ran for the exit.

As soon as he disapperard from your sight, you had a monologue with yourself.

Why would Pan invite me? He doesn’t even know me. I am a nobody.

Nahh… Maybe he is just inviting the whole school.

After you made a self-conclusion, you shrugged and head home.


A whistling sound was heard from your phone, indicating that a message had just came in. You opened it to find one from Felix.

Reaching in 5. -F

You tossed your phone on your bed as you reached for your denim jacket in your wardrobe. After a good long look in the mirror, and a little bit of touching up, you tied up the shoelace on your sneakers and head down to the living room to find Felix talking to your dad. Your footsteps down the stairs interrupted their conversation as their head turned to you. “Oh, there you are, y/n.”

“Hey, Dad… I’ll be home late.”

“Alright, just make sure not too late. Don’t forget your keys.” He placed your home keys in your hand before he turned to Felix. “And, Felix. Y/n is your responsibility for the next few hours. Make sure you take good care of her, alright? And make sure she comes back safe and sound.”

Felix smiled before replying, “Don’t worry, Dad. I will.”

Felix calling your father as his own was not something unusual. You were so exceptionally close to Felix that you and your family treated him like their own. And his family have always treated you like you are a part of them. In fact, with one glance, most would think you and Felix were siblings just by looking at how close your bond was. You felt lucky to have such a good friend who have stuck by you all these years.

“Ready to go?” Felix directed the question to you.

“Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” You said as you gave a kiss on your parents’ cheeks before heading out.

Before you could open the door to a silver grey car that was parked at your driveway, Felix stopped you and opened the door to the passanger seat, like a gentleman would do for his lady. What’s got into him?

As you placed a foot inside, you realised Felix’s gaze has never left you ever since the both of you stepped out of the house. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Nothing. It’s just… you look different than usual.”

“What’s different? It’s just a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.”

“Even so… still much better than your oversized tees.”

You shook your head at his ridiculous explanation and took your place at the passenger seat. Felix closed the door beside you and ran around the car to his driver’s seat. He turned the keys and the engines started to roar. Watching him fastening his seat belt, you followed suit.

Pan’s house was not too far from yours. Just a 20-min drive would suffice. Despite the short travelling time, you decided to ask Felix of the long-awaited question that has been running in your mind since that afternoon.

“Why did Pan asked you to invite me personally? Can’t he just invite me himself like the rest of the school?” Your voice breaks the silence in the car as you looked at him. His eyes stayed glued on the road.

It took Felix a while before he could answer. “I don’t know… Maybe he just wanted to know who my best friends are?”

“We were in the same class since second grade! How could he not know me at the very least, even if he doesn’t know that you are my best friend?” Before you could stop yourself, you realised that you have risen your voice slightly.

“Wowww giiirl… Relax.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“Hahah! Nothin to worry about, honey. But you did told me you had a crush on him since fifth grade. So just take this chance to get to know him better, aite?”

Your eyes widened at his latest statement. “Heyyyy… No one else is supposed to know about that. I was so naive back then… Anyway… his famous now. Good looks. Charming. A little bit of that bad boy attitude. Most of the girls in school are all eyeing to be his girlfriend.” In your mind, you started to question how did you even started to have any feelings for him.

“You included?”

“Nope. Compete with those cheerleaders? Forget it. Just let me step back and enjoy the rest of my senior years being invisible.”

“Honey, you are my best friend. You can’t be invisible.”

“Yeah… I figured that. They have been calling me ‘Felix’s friend’ and made me help them get a date with you.”

“Sorry about that, honey.” He said as he let out a chuckle.

You smiled as you turned to look out to the road. With the windows downs and the winds blowing through your hair, you placed your hands on the ledge and rested your chin on it for the rest of the journey.

“We’re here!” Felix exclaimed as he parked his car two blocks away from Pan’s house.

From a distance, you could see exceptionally bright lights shining from a huge house. That’s one big party that Pan has thrown to welcome the weekends.

Loud music hit your eardrums as you got closer to his abode. With a brush of your hand, you quickly re-do your hair. It must have been very messy after that session of hair-blowing in the car.

“Let’s go in.”

With you being an introvert and not used to such a huge crowd, a sense of insecurity started to fill you. You wrapped your hands around Felix’s arms and followed behind him as he shoved through the crowded living room.

After all that pushing and shoving, you found yourself standing by the outdoor pool. You did a quick turn to admire the architectural beauty of his home. Despite knowing him since young, you had never step foot inside his home. He is SO rich! That must be an added reason he was so famous in school. You made a quick note to yourself that with all this wealth, all the more reason you should stay away from him. Don’t want any cat fights with the girls in the school.

Your eyes stopped at a shelter nearby where a familiar stature was leaning on the countertop with a drink in his hand. Straightaway, you recognised him to be the owner of this home, or at least the son to its owners.

Felix started to make a move towads Pan. Butterflies started to fly around in your stomach. Even though those feelings that you had for him was years ago, meeting with the most well-known student in school still send chills down your spine.

You pulled Felix back and shook your head, telling him that you don’t want to go over to the famous Peter Pan.

“Come on. Don’t be shy.” Felix winked. Since he is much stronger than you, pulling him back wouldn’t stop him. In the end, you obliged but got yourself getting closer to him and hugging his arms even tighter.

“Hey, Pan!” Felix called out and waved his hands from a distance. Nearer to him, he shook his hands and they hit each other with their shoulder, greeting each other with the common bro hug. Felix did the same to the other three boys that were standing with Pan.

Never did you realise that your hands were still wrapped around Felix’s arms.

“Oh. Hi, y/n.” Pan smiled as his eyes landed on you.

Still feeling that wings flapping around in your stomach, you presented a sweet smile to him.

“Sorry. She’s a little shy.” You pulled Felix’s sleeves, embarrased by his words.

“Don’t worry, y/n. I don’t bite.”

“Honey, why don’t you wait here for a while while I go get us some drinks?”

Before you could stop him, he ran into the house back to the living room, where you saw the food and drinks earlier while you were finding your way around the house. You felt like hopping on a ride home but you were standing with Pan. How could one ever walk out of the famous Peter Pan?

“See ya later, Pan.” Said the three boys who started to walk away. Now, left the two of you alone to converse. Those wings weren’t much of a help for you.

“So… y/n. How are you?” Pan started the conversation.

“Oh. Urmm… Fine. Absolutely fine.

Seriously, y/n? No other words than ‘absolutely’? You scolded yourself in your heart.

“That’s good.”

“Urmm… How about you?” You returned him with the same question, recalled of the 101 tips that was taught in social etiquette class.

“I’m good too, actually. Never been better.” He said as he raised his both hands, showing his physical attributes to you. No matter how much you tried, you could not stop thinking of how good he looks right now, despite him just wearing a t-shirt that says “Party Rocks” along with a pair of jeans and a jacket to protect him from the cold wind.

“Anywaay… what’s with Felix calling you 'Honey’?”

“That was just nothing. It’s just a nickname he had for me since we were kids.”

“Oh. I thought you are his girlfriend, looking at how close you guys were. Though, it was quite weird that he would tell me of all the girlfriends he had but never really talked about you being his lover. Thought he had finally got over that Stacy girl.”

You laughed at Pan’s words, ridiculing at his statement. You could not believe the assumption he made about you and Felix. “Felix and I are just best friends. Really good friends. Don’t think loving each other as a couple was ever in our dictionary.”

“Oh… that’s great.” You could see Pan smiling. But his expression made your smile fade away, feeling that he has a hidden agenda.

“Why would it be great?”

“Oh, nothing.”

The next moment, you realised he was getting too close to you as he placed his mouth near to your ears. Feeling his breath against your skin, he whispered, “You look cute, by the way. Can I call you Honey too?”

Taken by surprise, you took a step back. Your wide eyes gazed into his deep olive-green eyes as you wondered what he meant by that.

Before you could reply him, Felix walked towards you with two drinks in his hand. Still in shock, you slowly grabbed the cup from Felix’s hand that was handed out to you while your mind was still wrapped around Pan’s words.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” Said Pan as he winked at you.

“What are you guys talking about?” Felix wondered as he took a sip from his cup.

“Nothing!” Your sudden risen voice took Felix by surprise.

“Relax girl. I was just asking.”

You gave him the sincerest smile that you could possibly do, trying to tell him that your conversation with Pan earlier was nothing much of importance for him to care about.

As Felix and Pan started to converse with one another, you faithfully stood beside Felix and followed them wherever they goes. When they decided to take a seat at the chair that was placed slightly further from the crowd, you followed suit.

Despite being side by side with them, you could not hear much of their conversation. Or mainly, you could not understand what they were talking about. Boys.

For the first few times, you tried to follow along their conversation, asking them questions along the way. After a few failed attempts, you decided to just switch off your hearing and just stared into the night sky, something that you usually do when you were feeling down or bored.

Occasionally, you took a sip of your drink and looked at your watch every now and then, secretly hoping that this night, which seemed unbelievably longer than usual, would end real soon.

An hour in, Felix received a call and stepped slightly further away, leaving the two of you together once again. Not wanting to go through that awkward feeling again, you took out your phone from your pocket and scrolled through your social media; from instagram, to twitter, to facebook, and back again till Felix came back.

Felix’s change of expression clearly shows that something bad has happened.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him.

“Stacy… she’s got into some trouble.” He took a pause before he said his real worry. “But how are you getting home? I promised Dad.”

In silence, your heart leaped for joy. Finally, you are going home! Though, you did feel bad for Felix. Stacy might be pretty but her attitude doesn’t speak the same.

“Don’t worry about me. I can find my ride home. I can just call Dad to pick me up or take a cab homep.”

“What are you talking about? I can drive you home.” Pan’s voice made the both of you turned to look at him in shock.

“You sure about that, Pan?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s just not too far, right?”

“But Pan… it’s fine. I can just call a cab home.” You tried to persuade them but it seemed like it just fall into deaf ears.

“Thanks Pan! I owe you big time!” Felix’s voice starts to fade as he sprint for his car.

“But Felix!” You shouted for him.

“Don’t worry, honey! I will text Dad about this!” You could barely his last words before his car zooms off into the middle of the road.

With Felix gone from sight, you turned to Pan with a disheartened look. “Honestly, Pan… you don’t have to. I can just call a cab home. Or even get an uber.”

“What?! Uber? Do you know how dangerous it is for a girl like you taking a stranger’s car? What if something happened to you? How am I going to answer Felix, or your parents for that matter?”

“But Pan, you are the host of the party. You should be here the whole time.”

“Nahhh… who cares. I will just be gone for a short while. They wouldn’t even realise that I went out. Anyway, my caretaker can help to ensure things don’t get out hand.”

“If I keep on protesting, it just won’t do any good, right?” Pan gave you a cheeky smile. “Alright… fine… Sorry for the trouble.”

“No worries about it! I consider it as an honour. Come, let me take you to my car.” He said as he held out his hand for you. Reluctantly, you placed your hand on his.

Pan pulled you along and you followed his every footsteps. After all the bulldozing through the crowd, you found yourself standing in the car garage that was located in the basement of his mansion. You stared at every corner and judging by the size of it, you estimated that it could fit at least four cars inside.

“Don’t just stand there, honey. Get in.” He opened the door to the passenger’s seat for you to get in.

You turned to see him standing by a black Audi. It was only then that you realised you were drooling over the luxurious decor (metaphorically, of course). Not to mention the expensive cars that was kept securely in this garage.

“He is filthy rich.” You whispered to yourself, just loud enough for your own hearing.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, nothing.” You quickly walked up to him and went into the car to avoid any follow-up questions.

Before you could fasten your seatbelt, Pan went over to you from his driver’s seat and pulled down the seatbelt. With his face just inches away from yours, you felt as if your breath was taken away from you. You gazed deep into his green eyes. Your heart started to beat faster than it ever was, as if you had just completed a marathon. His warm breath hit your face and you felt as if time had stopped for a moment.

Starting to feel that giant butterfly coming back in your stomach, you let out a cough, bringing Pan back to reality. Realising that he had been staring at you for too long, he quickly buckled up your seatbelt and went back to his seat. He turned the engine on. With the roaring sound filling the garage, he stepped on the pedal and drives the car out of the driveway to the main road.

While he was driving, you took a quick look from the corner of your eyes. You noticed that he was not the boy you used to had a crush on back in the past. He has grown so much, like you, only more handsome and charming. No wonder girls in your school were queuing up to be his girlfriend, hoping to be his true love.

Soon after, his car stopped in front of your house. He quickly ran out of his driver’s seat and opened the door for you. No matter how much you wanted to deny it, you were slightly moved by his actions.

“Thanks for the ride home.” You said as you stepped out of the car. Your first words to Pan ever since you got into the car.

“No worries about it. As long as I can get you home safe, nothing is too much of a trouble for me.”

As you started to make a beeline towards your house, a question popped into your head. You turned back to face him. “How did you know where my house is?”

Honey, I’ve known you since second grade. We used to take the same bus to school, remember?”

You were taken aback by his reply. “But that was ages ago. I can’t believe you still remember that.”

“I remember all the things about cool people. I think you’re cool.”

You smiled sheepishly at Pan.

Before you walked away, you gave him a kiss on the cheeks and said “Thanks”, leaving Pan with a wide smile on his face.

Felt satisfied, you skipped happily back into the house, like a little girl who was just given a new doll to add to her tea party. It was only then did your realise that you had never so high before.

With a heart over the moon, you walked into your home with a huge smile. Your smile got wider as you heard his car drive off from your home.

Pan… why did you make me feel this way about you all over again?

Secretly wishing for it to happen to us?

Originally posted by amendlessknot

Les Mis/Fairy Tales Aesthetic: Courferre + Peter Pan

You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting.

“Would you like an adventure now, or would you like to have your tea first?” In which Combeferre’s adventures are long overdue, younger bros Enjolras and Marius get dragged along for the ride, Courfeyrac needs to learn how to keep his shirt on and really, the Thenardier pirates are the least of their worries.
Ft. Fairy!Cosette, Native!Grantaire and Mermaid!Montparnasse.