Fandom One Shots Book Three

Peter Pan x Little Match Girl!Female!Reader

First things first, thanks for your patience my dears. I knew it was going to be three parts! But its done! 

Requests are open but, only for a few days I will announce when they are closed. Please PM me the plot and character. Available fandoms are on my profile. Please be aware of my rules, no smut, abuse, self harm; these are also on my profile. I have also decided that there are some characters I don't want to write for at the moment due to getting them a lot and never writing for anyone else. So no Kelly Severide, G. Callen, Tony DiNozzo, James Bond, Seeley Booth, Spencer Reid and Derek Morgan. 

I know I no longer have Once Upon a Time on my list, but this idea would not leave me alone. I know the magic inverse doesn't quite work like this, but it does for this story. Reader character is based on the Little Match Girl.

The incantation song was inspired by Tangled's healing incantation.

Enjoy my dears!

You never much liked the stories you had been told of orphans alone in the world, the ones were they died for want of kindness. Maybe it was you were one of them, orphaned and in want for kindness. You would sell what you could at the markets, berries and nuts picked fresh from the forest in the autumn. Spring you would work on farms as a fruit picker in exchange for food and board. Summer was easier to live in the woods, with the food available from the bushes and trees. The Enchanted Forest, you hated the name. Enchanted for some sure, but you it was nothing but a curse. Winter was difficult to survive, you never had enough food, the dried fruit and nuts you would preserve in the summer. Winter when you were a child was most difficult, as a young teenager now, you would lie about your age and offer to work in pubs in exchange for board. Some would take you up on your offer, it was cheaper to give you a corner of the attic and a few merger meals than it would be to pay you.

This winter, you were selling matches and kindling. No pub would take you up on your offer, it was the worst winter the Enchanted Forest had seen in a while. You understood, people wanted to feed their families, not some orphan. You never sold much, some sellers were kind and would give you some food they did not sell at the end of the day. You survived in winter, dreaming of summer. Mostly of the warmth if nothing else. Today no one had bought anything, a blizzard was ripping its way through the forest and your small village. You pulled the thin shawl about you, fiddled with the few matches you had, the whetstone in your pocket, small bundle of kindling on your back the sticks pricking holes into your shawl and dress scraping against your skin. You shivered against the wind, as it ripped through your thin dress. Night was falling fast as it always did in the winter. All the pubs were closed so you couldn't even hide in there for the night.

You shivered violently against the cold. Creeping into a small space between two houses, you shifted the kindling, so it now sat beside you. You leaned against the wooden house on your right, hunger ate away at you. Barely able to lift your head, you watched as a couple of merchants hurried by both of them giving you disgusted looks. You fingered the whetstone and the matches. You shivered less violently before, and you sighed whisps of your breath hanging in the air.

Maybe just one.

Maybe you'd just strike one.

You drew the match across the whetstone harshly, the sharp sound disappearing in the howling winds. The match lit up, you held it in front of you sighing at the warmth that licked at your fingertips. You closed your eyes for a moment imagining that it was a fireplace like from the pub that had kicked you out earlier in the evening. Opening your eyes, the fireplace you had been thinking of. It was in front of you, the fire roaring in its hearth. You reached out with the hand that wasn't holding the match. The warmth rippled across your palm; you could feel the warmth and you closed your eyes relishing in the feeling. The warmth from the fireplace strong and scorching against your skin. You hissed in pain as the flame reached your fingertips, you dropped the match and shook your fingers to dispel the pain. When you glanced up the fireplace was gone and the warmth you felt rushed away. Your breath shook as you let it out, you fingered another match. You refused to strike another match you needed them, you had to sell them.

The wind howled by your hiding spot, you shivered again. You fingered a match, lifting it in front of you. Turning it over and over, your stomach growled loudly. Curling in on yourself as the hunger pains reminded you that you hadn't eaten all day.

Maybe just one more.

Just one more.

You struck a second match and gazed at the flame. Allowing your eyes to flutter shut and wish. You opened your eyes again and there was a table piled high with food. Your mouth fell open, the hunger pains grew and you reached out, fingers stretching out. The flame licked down the match, till it reached your fingers. Ignoring it you bore the pain a little longer as you stretched desperately for the food, you gasped and dropped the match as your finger brushed the tablecloth and you could feel the cloth. The match fell and hissed as it hit the snow. Your hand stayed stretched out as you gaped at the empty air. You could have sworn that you felt the fabric of the tablecloth beneath your fingers. Your hand dropped as your stomach complained that you had not been able to eat the feast that had been in front of you.

Your head thudded against the house beside you. You could barely keep your eyes open; you barely had the energy to keep fighting. You decided to light the third match. Maybe this time you would get the kindness you wanted.

You struck a third match.

This time it was as if you were in the room of the house you were leaning against. The thick wood walls the warmth surrounding you. You could almost feel the rug beneath you, twisting the strips of fabric in between your fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut as you sighed in the warmth. Before the flames from the match began to lick at your fingers and you dropped it into the snow.

Your eyes fluttered open as you shivered, huffing out a breath. Craving that warmth again, maybe you could get it just once more.

And so barely able to lift your head, you struck the fourth match.

As the flame flickered into being, you closed your eyes and hoped. You opened them and saw your grandmother, she had long since passed. She smiled warmly at you and held out her hand. You stretched out and slipped your hand into hers. Your eyes fell closed as the match fell from your fingers and into the snow.

The next day, merchants and villagers passed by your hiding place only to see the bundle of kindling and three burned matches in the snow. Usually at the end of these stories that your grandmother had told you, the young orphan child would have been whisked away to heaven to no longer suffer as they once had. How those who saw the child more often they had frozen to death in the stories, would go forth with more kindness. You had stopped believing that the kindness would last, kindness never lasted for long in your experience. You did, however, wish to believe that the children who had for want of kindness had ended up in heaven. When your grandmother appeared to you, that's where you hoped you were going.

That was not what happened.