Long John Silver was scared only ofHook, and that maybe So, killipan is the best theory of ouat that I will forever weep for.
Now, because of course I wet to the tags, I fell in captain pan hell (such chemistry, goddamit, sand I dont feel bad because pan has all the control in this relashionship....still not gonna go for is rumple father thing, jaja, i totally ignore that because it ruins things for me (said, that peter is peter because he was not an adult, I can deal with grown up pan after he was pan, or, in the case he was an adult first, he would have forgotten everything about it, because that is how pan works....ahhhhhh, ok, out of topic) ), and found panlix, which fics are like, much cuter than I imagined.
Ok, now I started thinking that, if pan and hook were the same, and they both like felix, that would be an epic ot3.(actually and otp...), man I want to do a fic like that, AU of killian being peter having gone backto his home, Liam being actually his younger brother(but they all think he is the younger....man I love for this)....and well, I don’t know how it derailed in knowing that Long John Silver only feared Hook, and the out of the field idea that maybe silver could be a grown up Felix, the same way Killian was a grown up peter....and fuck me I am gonna write this, just posting ideas now.
Hook is still peter, so memory is stillan issue with him (actually, in this verse the two being sepatated is kind of what gives neverland energy, neverland being kind of meta-land for peter jones.)
Felix could totally have not the same deal but ended up like that due to OTL magic(I don’t like to spam that, but oh, well, why not)
And know I have this fucking pairing named Silver Captain Panlix., that I think only I will ship (again, why do I like this rare things)
I have come to the conclusion that if A&E decided to EVER do a Neverland spinoff it would not really be Once Upon A Time in Neverland, it would be more like Brokeback Neverland.
Guess what guys! I finally got it done! Part 4 of my Soulmate!AU! Whoop-whoop! Anyways, I'm sorry this took so long, but I was like completely blank on what to write and then one day inspiration came and I hope it was worth it! :)
Last thing before you read, I'm thinking of having this as like the final part but still not 100% sure, so if you think there should be more just shoot me an ask or reblog this say so. Okay, I'm done now; you can read.
Beta'd by the lovely zylphian.
And Renamed Love Song Requiem.
Felix and Peter, two names of people he used to know. They were his soul mates, the ones that were supposed to be his forever.
After that night when Peter found him bloody and weak on the bedroom floor, Killian was never looked at the same by either lad. Felix would glance his way every now and then, but overall he wouldn’t say or do much. Peter at least attempted to keep something between them. He talked to Killian, not as personal or long as before, but he did none the less. He wouldn’t rough house or show his claws in bed, neither would. It was as if they were scared of hurting him, breaking him further than he did that night; but if only they knew. If only they knew that the things they believed were right helpful and safe were cutting him deeper than the white of his nails did.
It was two weeks in he finally gained enough resolve to leave. He had packed his bags at two in the morning with enough necessities for a few days and money for a bus ticket or hotel stay. Though, when the time came to clutch the chilling brass knob in his trembling hands to open the door, he couldn't. His mind kept racing over and over of his two lovers so close, but still so far away.
In truth, Killian wanted to stay unlike before. He wanted to fall onto the bed and hold Peter and Felix as close to his body as he possibly could. He wanted to sob into their chests begging for forgiveness for the sins he committed. He wanted to apologize for mangling their names on his wrist to the point of unrecognizable and doubting that they loved him for a second. He just wanted the three of them to be together and happy, but the red string that tied their pinkies together marking them for eternity accomplished the unthinkable; it shredded and frayed until one single strand of scarlet thread was the only thing keeping them attached.
He knew he couldn’t stay though, not in this cramped apartment with two figures he loved way further than to the moon and back pushing him away. He had to depart, get away from this building, away from this town, away from them. So with that thought burning in his mind he yanked the door open and left with no echoes of footsteps in his wake just the subtle click of a door latch then the quiet jingle of keys.
Killian’s resolve crumbled as if each step down was a canon bashing into his walls of his remained sanity, until he almost reached the last one and collapsed to the floor with a rough thud. His heart pounded in his ears, screeching for him to return to the boys; but his brain was louder than the blood pumping muscle. It shouted in is head to go run, break away from the torment of being surrounded by the ones you love just to see them love someone else (each other) more than you. The sight was a brand of torture, one fate designed with wicked hands and nimble fingers just to trip and watch him fall—and it was working.
The collaborative mess of heart and mind proceeded to holler in his ears like cymbals clashing together, resonating against his ear drums before evolving into pure, incoherent white noise soon broken by a companion joining his side.
“You didn’t make it as far as I expected, Killian. I predicted you’d make it at least out the door; Felix said the end of the hall, so I guess we were both wrong right? A first for me might I add.” It didn’t take a genius to know who the speaker was much like it didn’t take Killian looking at him to see wicked fire in his green eyes and a smirk twisted on his lips.
“Is this just one of your pathetic games, Peter?”
“It was always a game, Killian, since day one. I just never expected you to suck so badly at it,” he laughed, tossing his head back echoing the noises through the stairwell; but Killian was not amused much to the boy's disappointment.
"Why are you leaving, anyways?"
"I don't- I can't- I just need somewhere to go—to be. I want to be wanted and you both may say you care, but it doesn’t feel as if you really do,” he explained raking his long fingers through his hair.
“You’re being ridiculous. Me and Felix, actually I can’t speak for Felix seeing as I’m not him, but I care for you. I’d prefer you to stay here with us—me,” his voice was soft, tender in a way Killian had never heard before, but his sly, taunting smile still danced on his lips, and he wondered if the boy meant what he said.
“Stop messing around, boy; I’m trying to be serious here and you’re just playing more of your low, childish games!” He didn’t mean to shout, yet he did, especially when the boy’s lips dropped into a frown.
“Why does everything I do with you have to be a game?”
“Because that’s your damn nature. You tease and you play people like they’re just pawns on a chess board; for instance, me. I’m supposed to be that second knight in shining armor by your side, but you treat me as one of your pathetic pawns. You come to me and act as if you care what I say, but you don’t. You do me in the bedroom as if it actually was more than reckless fucking. You hug and kiss me like there’s a possibility you love me, but you don’t and neither does Felix!” Killian exclaimed, his chest heaving for breath and body rattling to stand up so his stature might be taller than Peter to appear more threatening, dominate, in charge.
The boy scoffed, exasperated, “Is that really what this is about? You don’t think we love you?” He crossed his long, lithe arms across his chest and leaned back into the hall wall.
“You sure as hell ‘ve never said it!” His blood was rushing through his veins and arteries at increasing speeds, his heart pounded like an 808 drum, he felt high; it was like this surge of emotions that made him want to fight for himself—stand up for how he felt he was treated, not apologize and fall back into the same routine he yearned to escape from like before.
“Our names are signed into your skin; we’re all three supposed to be together so we shouldn’t have to tell you—you should know!”
The rapid pace of Killian’s heart violently twitched and paced with Peter’s words. It wasn’t as if he never thought of the possibility that that was the exact reason neither boy would tell him of their love; he had imagined that was it for a few months in the extent of their relationship, but the assumption never made sense in his mind. Why would they have to tell one another all the time ‘I love you’ but never him if they had the same engravings? That was what disproved the theory.
“That doesn’t keep you and Felix from telling each other every two minutes!”
“We’ve known each other for years, you dumbass! We were happy together as just us; we didn’t need another person added to our duo. We were perfectly fine without you in our lives and we’d go back to that time if we could!”
Killian’s whole frame went rigid, tensing tightly where he stood. He felt like he’d been slapped in the face; he could barely fathom the exact meaning of Peter’s words or the truth that he had said them. The whole jumbled mess was flying circles in his mind as his brain attempted to pull the pieces together, build the whole bigger picture that he had been ignorant to the entire time. It was as if all the signs that they never ever wanted him were there, but he just couldn’t see them in his mind. He knew they had their moments of neglect toward him, he just never saw it as on purpose. He supposed their actions were purely accidental seeing as they never had to care for another before—it was always just them.
Maybe, it was meant to be just them in the end though. Maybe, Killian was a mistake; maybe, he was destined to be one of those few souls on Earth that was born without any names on his skin, but fate had forgot to erase the letters that were written leaving him hopeful of a happy ending just to be crushed into epitome by cold, hard reality. Or maybe, just maybe, it was his destiny to meet those two and fall in love; it just happened to be the wrong time when they met and that’s what fucked him up.
“Fuck you,” he murmured grasping hold of his suitcase and making his way down the final stairs.
He could hear Peter’s light steps and foggy shouts of ‘Wait’, ‘I didn’t mean it’, and ‘Don’t go’’s echoing close behind him, but he kept moving. He continued walking and only looked back once when he reached the door. The boy was only a few feet from him and the regret that glazed over his face tempted him to go to him, but he couldn’t—he had to go like he planned. Find new love, rewrite his fate, or maybe allow fate to reset itself just to find himself back in their arms, this time with them wanting him too, loving him too.
“Goodbye,” and he walked away. The red string on his and Peter’s little fingers stretched longer and longer with every stride, until the door to the apartment complex shut snapping the thread in the process. Then for the first time in his life Killian could finally breathe. He was his own person again.
Meme thing: captain panlix + "I’ll never unsee that."
Like the last thing I wrote this hasn’t been edited because beta is MIA for a while, so bare with it and I hope you like, and itachi86 I took out the Nevengers part if that’s okay.
Send me a prompt.
Send me a pairing and a line of dialogue, and I’ll write you something.
All in all, the setting sent a quick shiver down the pirate Captain’s back. He buckled his leather tunic and removed all his rings in attempt to resist the wintery air. He took a shot of rum to wet his scratchy throat then continued his trek to the beach in search of his ship. But he stopped in a clearing, his sea blue eyes spotting a curious sight.
The island’s demon, Peter Pan, was pinning a boy to a tree. His small childlike hands rested on the lost one’s waist and his pink lips appeared to be kissing the pale flesh of his neck. The restrained boy didn’t hold back the pleasure of his leader’s warm mouth wandering his bare skin; he moaned and gasped as the razor sharp teeth nipped and plump lips sucked.
His back grinding against the bark of a tree was audible above the breeze’s song, along with the ripping of clothing. His head fell back, the moon illuminating his rough features amplifying the glow of his blonde hair and the soft red of his facial scar. His grey eyes closed as Pan’s hands continued to move. The demon had lifted the lost one’s long, naked legs around his hips, waist positioned in-line with the boy’s center.
Confusion nestled into the pirate’s chest, a dark brow raised toward the starry sky. Peter was clothed, the different materials of green still clinging to his youthful frame. The lost one was nude and practically handing himself over to the immortal boy, visibly begging for more than the touch of his hands.So, the captain left the two alone having seen more than he already wanted.
Predicted images flashed through his mind tough as booming grunts echoed through the thick brush of the Neverwood. He shivered as he walked, wishing for the wind’s whispered tune to flood his eardrums over the sound of the boys he left behind. But the cries of pleasure only grew louder and a shot of rum trailed down his burning throat with every step toward his homey ship.
He rinsed his frost kissed cheeks once hidden in the confinement of his quarters. He stripped to nothing except a worn down, long leg pair of kickers; his hook lay on a bedside table. He tucked himself tight under his satin duvet staring through the window at the exterior of the island.
Snow fell in fragile puffs melting once in contact with the paned glass. The tiny, flickering lights of the winter fairies danced through the snowflakes, and a minuscule smile twitched at the corner of his lips. He relaxed his muscles, his heavy eyelids hiding away the sapphire hue of his irises.
He jolted from the warmth of the bed a few moments into his sleep. Flashes of Pan and his follower had flooded his memory; he shook them away though replacing his head on the feather pillow. But with every new image that appeared in his mind and every hallucination that formed from his lack of sleep, he would groan and curse the island’s demon.
“I’ll never unsee that will I, Pan?” A ghostly laugh wisped in the room as confirmation to his rhetorical question. The captain nodded toward the ice encrusted window. He had accepted his fate with a questionable tolerance and allowed the frigid air to send him into a deep sleep with dreams of Pan and his most loyal lost boy.
Send me a pairing and a line of dialogue, and I’ll write you something.
Drops of salt water practically poured down Killian’s red, toasty skin. The sweat drenched his black hair, soaked through his grey tee, and he could feel the wet trails running down his legs. He was on his way home hoping for a cool, relaxing ice bath and aloe to relieve his burning flesh.
He practically arrived to a sauna as he took two steps through the wooden door the sound of shower water echoing through the house. Killian moaned to himself craving for the frigid water to run all across his aching skin.
He stops by the window first to look for his boyfriend’s green, spikey, immortal aloe vera plant to sooth the bubbling burns, but it’s nowhere to be seen. So he huffed and trudged to the bathroom.
“Hey, Peter, have you seen…? Oh,” he paused upon entry, the sight of his boyfriend and best friend in the shower throwing him for a spin. “What’s going on here?”
They had been facing one another hands beating quickly between their long legs, but the stopped when the man announced his presence. Peter’s friend, Felix, could be seen biting his lip eyes closed hand still moving as his boyfriend stepped from the shower dripping wet and naked.
He calmly walked to the man wrapping his arms around his neck then connected their lips together. Killian’s eyes remained open though, glaring daggers at Felix in the stall.
“We were just cooling off nothing happened, so calm yourself.” Killian eyed the boy. He knew he was lying through his razor teeth, the heat both of them showed off gave it away.
“Join us,” Peter whispered tugging at the soaked grey shirt. The man eventually gave in accompanied the two in the cramped tiled space.
Here ya go. Part 2 of my soulmate!AU (I hope you three are happy! I stayed up until 4-FCKING-AM WRITING THIS so you better enjoy it!!) (x) This has a time jump from where Part 1 ended by the way.
Part 1 Part 3
I'm counting on hearts like yours to help remind me
Keep ignoring the white noise behind me
On occasion he prefers one more than the other. Felix he prefers on the down days when he’s tired and sore from his job. Peter he prefers on the slow days when the world lacks life and adventure. But together the boys are a wave of passion crashing on the shore with every touch, every kiss, and every movement under the silk sheets.
Sometimes though Killian wished he had only one soul mate in this world, because at night when he’s still awake and they’re asleep he hears them. They whisper words in their deep slumber that they’ve never spoken to him—only each other. They murmur of their past and their love for one another which has glowed brightly since the days they wrestled in sandboxes.
It’s at these moments in the middle of the night that Killian steps out onto the apartment balcony. It’s at these moments he contemplates his life. He thinks of his past when he was alone, he thinks of his present with Felix and Peter, but most of all he thinks of his future. And when the thoughts drift to his two lovers leaving him behind in their passionate wake, he brings a metal flask to his lips.
The burning sensation numbs the feeling of loneliness, especially when he glances behind him and stares at the boys’ tangled forms with his empty pillow to their left.
Another sip.
Killian runs his calloused fingers through his black locks, considering for just a moment if he should leave—just pack his things and go. He’d leave a note of course explaining his departure, and maybe they will go searching for him for a few hours, a day, or even possibly a month, but eventually they will see what he does. They will see that they are better on their own without their third soul mate.
Another sip.
Killian can hear them when they’re alone in the apartment. He can hear them whisper words of love before their lips touch in a brief kiss. And when he does, he closes his eyes imaging those words being said to him, but they never are. Neither boy has ever mentioned such a smidge of a thought of love to him—not after sex, not after blazing kisses that leave them breathless, not after moments when one, the other, or he needs words of love to get him through the day.
Another sip.
And another.
And another.
He throws the flask to the ground—empty—and collapses onto the concrete floor. He covers his unshaven face with a burly hand, unwanted tears pricking behind his eyelids.
All he has ever wanted in his life was companionship, and he had it. He had love and friendship in his past because of his brother Liam. But after his brother died eight years ago, Killian has only ever been alone. His parents are MIA and he doesn’t have any friends. The only people in the world that haven’t left or pretended to care, are the two boys on the other side of the door whose names match the ones engraved into his wrist.
He can hear footsteps softly trekking through the dark apartment—they’re Peter’s, he can tell. The walking patterns are scattered and light, unlike Felix’s whose are heavy and in-step.
“Killian?” He looks up his sapphire eyes locking with Peter’s groggy, emerald ones. “Why aren’t you in the bed?”
He rubs his neck picking his tired body off the cold cement. “I was just having a drink is all.”
The boy nods too sleepy to question him any further and instead grasps the man’s hand in his own intertwining his soft fingers with Killian’s rough, then tugging him to follow.
Peter’s first to crawl between the sheets his warm, sluggish body quick to attach to Felix’s.
“Goodnight, Killian.”
“Goodnight, Peter,” the man sighs resting his head against the cold, plush pillow. He watches the two boys for a short while, their pasty skin illuminating in the grey moonlight. He wished one, or both, would give him some attention, would pull their thin bodies close to him warming his own cool body during the frigid nights.
But when the nightly whispers begin again, he wishes to be deaf or he wishes those words would be spoken to him. The three little words they tell each other every day; the three little words they profess each night when they’re fast asleep.
