ℂeleste || OUAT Peter Pan x OC

✭ 𝒮ixteen - 𝐹airies ✭

I scrambled to my feet and she did likewise, her eyes narrowed as she looked my up and down, standing opposite. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and she wore dark green sparkly clothing. She was probably in her early twenties. I had never seen her before on the island, and Pan had never mentioned her. Her voice snapped me back to the situation.

"Who are you?"

"I'm... I'm Celeste," I responded, confusion smothering my thoughts, "Celeste Auburn. Are you... are you a Lost Girl?"

She scoffed, folding her arms. "Of course I'm not. I'm a fairy," she said, then looked down. "Well, I was."

My eyes widened in shock, and I gasped. "You're a fairy?"

"I was," she repeated, but seemed pleased with my reaction. "You believe in fairies, then? Not very common for girls your age. Or anyone, actually."

I shrugged and nodded. "Who are you?"

"Tinker Bell," she answered. "You're new, aren't you?"

I nodded again with a slight smile. "Pan took me here. It's, uh, kind of a long story."

"Yeah, I know. You're the girl that he saw in the hourglass, right? The one that's supposed to stop him from dying."

My eyes widened in surprise at her knowledge on the whole thing. "How do you know that?"

"Because it's not just Pan that'll get affected by that hourglass running out," Tinker Bell told me, annoyed again. "Everything that's a part of Neverland does. Including me, because I'm a Neverland fairy."

"Wow," I breathed, "no pressure there."

She shrugged, looking me up and down again. "Well. You might be okay. You don't look helpless or petty or anything. As long as you're stubborn when you need to be and go with your instincts... you should be okay."

"I will," I replied, "I promise. So, if I succeed, you'll get your wings and powers back?"

She nodded in agreement. "Yeah. But you've got another problem to deal with right now. Lost Boys."

I frowned, caught off guard. "I... what about them?"

"Come on, Celeste," Tinker Bell said impatiently, leaning against a tree, "sure, they don't have rosy pasts and amazing family life, but they aren't properly happy here. You can tell. I've heard the younger ones cry at night."

"Look, Peter isn't-"

"I know," she interrupted, "I know he took them so they could have another chance at having a better life. And that's good, good intentions and everything - but he can't change the loss and want of their families, no one can."

"Well, what can he do? Most of them probably don't have homes."

"But they can find ones," Tinker Bell said, standing straight again, "they can be led to families they belong with, that'll want them, easy. I bet most of the reasons some feel lost and unloved is because of misunderstanding and lack of communication between their parents. Favoritism, work, arguments, whatever. If they were truly happy about being away from them, they wouldn't be so upset, would they? They're some of the reason that hourglass is running."

My brows furrowed at the last comment. "Wait, what?"

"You heard me. Dreamers can't come here while Neverland isn't full of happiness and positivity and stuff that makes kids want to dream here. Which means they can't know fairies are real because they can't see me, which means the believers are lessening rapidly. That's the reason I don't have my wings or powers. No one can believe in they don't know about me."

"You're right," I answered after a moment, biting my lip in thought. "What do you think I should do?"

"Tell Peter Pan," was her immediate response. "Tell him what I've told you. The reason why he doesn't want to let them go is that he doesn't want to be alone, Celeste. Others, like him - it's a comfort, and more like a family. And you didn't hear that from me, understand?"

I nodded with a smile. "Okay. Thanks, Tink. I've gotta run."

"Wait." Tinker Bell pulled out a tube of glowing, glittering Pixie Dust and pushed it into my hand. "You'll need this. To get the boys to proper homes. When you stop the hourglass and restore everything. Good luck."

"Thank you. Thanks for everything, Tinker Bell."

"Thank me later," she replied with a hint of a smile. "Now go!"

I ran back the way I came, tucking the Pixie Dust away in my pocket. Felix and the Lost Boys were already at the camp, but no Peter. I bit my lip, scanning the area and trying to think of where he might be. Then my eyes lit up in realisation and I ran back into the Pixie Woods, to the Thinking Tree. And as expected, there he was, sitting with a faraway expression, sketching. He looked up at me slowly, with deep green eyes, and smiled. I smiled back.

"Hi. What're you drawing?"

Peter hesitated, and I sat next to him, looking at the drawing. It was of a girl, gazing out a window with an intrigued and gentle look, her hair auburn, her nose peppered with freckles and eyes a light emerald colour.

"It's me?"

He nodded, a slight smile on his face.

"When you came to take me here."

He nodded again.

"It's... amazing," I said, "I love it. Did you get taught art?"

He shook his head. "No. I taught myself."

I nodded, leaning back on the wooden walling. "Listen, I understand why you're not completely set on the boys leaving. I really do."

Pan's smile faltered, and his eyes dropped. There were very rare moments when I saw Peter Pan without his confidence and proud attitude - when he was quieter and thoughtful and joking. One of the moments was now, alone in the night in the Thinking Tree.

"Do you really?" Peter murmured, looking back up at me, scanning my face with a faded smile. "I don't think you do, Celeste."

"I do," I insisted, "I know you took them here to give them another chance at happiness. This place is anyone's dream. I know you were doing it out of... goodness, and-"

"Celeste," Pan interrupted with a chuckle, "you think too highly of me. But you don't really know me. I'm not all good. You know I dithered in telling you the truth? About the hourglass? You... you deserve better..."

I thought about his words for a few moments, then shook my head, sitting nearer to him.

"But the point is, you did," I reminded him, "and you deserved so much better too, when you were in the coalmines. I do know what kind of person you are. And I don't think too highly of anyone."

Peter didn't respond for a while, his eyes staring into mine and wandering my face. Then he smiled gently and brushed his fingers against my hair, twirling locks around them and sighing softly.

"Celeste..." he whispered, "Celeste, what are you doing to me?"

I frowned slightly, meeting his eyes. "What?"

"You heard me," he said with a smirk, "is this... what it feels like?"

I shrugged and shook my head, biting my lip as I processed of his words. He rolled his eyes and smirked again, letting go of my hair and brushing my lip with his thumb.

"Don't do that," he told me, "you only bite your lip when you're nervous."

I raised a brow in curiosity. "How do you know that?"

He shrugged and smiled. Then he frowned, inhaling sharply. My brows furrowed in concern, as I backed up a little.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head, glancing at the exit of the Thinking Tree before looking back to me, confusion in his eyes.

"Someone's arrived in Neverland."