Runaround Sue

Summary: Felix, jealous of how much attention Peter gives you compared to the other Lost Boys, starts a rumor that you're seeing one of the other Lost Boys behind Peter's back.

Word Count: 2018

Warnings: Mild Violence

Felix had reached a boiling point.

When he had first noticed Pan's affections for you, he managed to table his disapproval, assuming nothing would come of it.

When you and Peter began seeing each other more and more in private, stealing little moments away together when you thought no one else noticed, Felix felt his annoyance rising, but still, he tolerated it. After all, it was just a secret fling, likely to fizzle out in a week or so.

It was when Pan's blatant preference for you began to affect the governing of Neverland that Felix could no longer subdue his vexation.

Every moment Peter spent was with you, hanging on your every word and following you around the camp like a lost dog.

Then, Peter was taking your opinion into account regarding choices he made about the camp and the Lost Boys, choices that were normally only discussed by Peter and Felix alone. Gradually, you had become Peter's right hand-man, demoting Felix from an important advisor to merely another follower.

That is where Felix's toleration ended.

It wasn't only that you replaced him, that Felix could have gotten over. It was that you at your core were foreign to Neverland, an outsider. You knew nothing of how hard Pan had worked to establish the camp of the Lost Ones, or the tribulations all of you had faced.

How could Pan let you have so much power over the fate of people you knew nothing about?

In the back of Felix's mind, he knew something had to be done. As he formulated a plan, he reminded himself repeatedly that this was better for Pan in the long run.

It would be better for everyone.

---

Felix had crafted the story carefully. He made sure to tell it to one of the younger Lost Boys first, knowing all too well he would be so overwhelmed with the information that he would tell one of the older boys. Who would tell one of the other older boys. Who would tell another boy.

The chain went on, just as Felix had expected it too.

Soon, every Lost Boy in camp felt uneasy, like they were walking on eggshells until everything around them would eventually implode.

No one knew who the Lost Boy was that you were seeing behind Pan's back.

No one knew when Pan was going to find out.

It was a ticking time bomb, Felix knew. He just had to set up the right moment to detonate it.

A day later, he spotted you by yourself, getting ready to head down the path for a hunt. Running to catch up with you, he caught your attention, setting the works into motion.

"Hey, Y/N, can I get your help for a second?" Felix asked you, concern on his face.

"Oh, uh, of course Felix. What's up?"

You hadn't had much interaction with Felix since you'd arrived in Neverland. In fact, you could count on one hand the amount of times he'd ever muttered a syllable to you. It was for this reason that you felt Felix reaching out to you for help was some kind of step forward.

Little did you know.

"There's something wrong with Devin," Felix began, rushing his words to feign genuine concern and urgency. "He's sick out of his mind in his tent, and I think he might have taken something, either on purpose or by accident. I can't find Pan anywhere, and I don't know who else to go to."

Hearing one of the Lost Boys was in danger panicked you, and instantly you agreed to go to Devin's tent and aide him while Felix looked for Pan.

As soon as you left, Felix headed for Pan's tent, his monologue prepared.

The boys lingering near the trees watched Felix march to Pan's tent, and in unison they all stopped their activities, frozen. All hearts on camp stopped as Felix walked into Peter's residence, knowing the message Felix was about to deliver.

"Felix." Peter greeted, turning to face his friend. When Felix didn't return the greeting, Peter's friendliness dissipated, transforming quickly into sternness.

"Felix, what is it?"

This will help Pan, he repeated in his head, This will help Neverland.

Felix recited his practiced words solemnly, trusting that the end would justify the means.

---

Peter and Felix busted into Devin's tent where you were sitting on his cot next to him, questioning the boy as to why Felix would make up a story about him being sick. When Peter saw the scene, his expression hardened immediately, his eyes firing up with anger.

"And just what the bloody hell is going on in here?" The boy king boomed, causing you and Devin to jump.

You stood up instantly, startled by Peter's tone. "Peter, what do you mean? I came in here because-"

"Oh, you came in here?" Peter cut you off, fuming, "Because I recall you telling me you were going hunting."

You scoffed, reeling in disbelief from what it seemed Peter was trying to insinuate. "Peter, what are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't act like you don't know, Y/N!" He cried out, gesturing wildly to outside the tent. "The whole bloody camp knows!"

Peter's voice got weaker then, his face crumpling with pain. "For the love of god, Y/N, I saw their faces when I went outside. Every boy here knew before I did."

Irritated to no end, you screamed out, "Peter, every boy here knows what?"

"What you and Devin have been up to behind Pan's back."

This came from Felix, and the second the words came out of his mouth, you knew.

Suddenly, everything made such sense.

For a brief moment, you felt your veins fill with rage. Everything in your body tensed, and for a minute, you thought to yourself, I'm going to hurt him. I am going to make him pay for this.

Then, something occurred to you.

Felix wants you to explode. He wants you to make a big, defensive scene that incriminates you and makes you look guilty. He wants to give Peter a reason to believe him.

Swiftly, you unclenched your fists and let your jaw relax. Raising your head up high, you calmly marched past Peter and Felix, walking out of the tent. All three boys followed on your heels, confused.

Every pair of Lost Boy eyes was on you as you made your way to the center of the campsite, climbing on a rock to project your voice. You cleared your throat before you spoke.

"Everyone who heard a rumor about me cheating on Peter, point to who you heard it from."

You looked down at the crowd of boys in front of you. For a moment, they just stood there, puzzled, before beginning to slowly go down the chain and recite who told them what.

"Now," you announced, your voice steady, "Raise your hand if you heard it from Felix."

For a moment, everyone was still, the boys in the middle of the pit confused.

Then, a small, young boy in the back raised his hand.

You exhaled, stepping off the rock.

"I was told today," You continued loudly, making your way back towards where Felix stood, "that Devin had taken a potion that made him ill. I was told this by Felix."

Whispers began to break out in the crowd of Lost Boys, and Felix began to squirm uneasily.

You turned to at Peter before you finished, his eyes full of hurt and confusion. You hoped your face said it all:

I'm sorry. I love you.

"Nothing that Felix said was true. It was a cheap ploy to rid me out of Pan's and all of your lives'." You paused, looking back to the Lost Boys. "But if that's what you all want, okay. I understand. But we should do it in a democratic manner, not autocratically."

The camp went silent.

The oldest Lost Boy turned to look at the others, as if conferring with them wordlessly. Then, they all nodded, signaling an agreement.

The oldest boy spoke up. "We don't want you gone, Y/N. We think you make a good fit as a Lost Girl, and we want you to stay."

"Plus, you make Peter less of a tight ass," one of the younger boys added, and you grinned, feeling genuine love and appreciation for each and every one of them.

You turned back to look at Peter, only to realize he wasn't looking at you or the Lost Boys at all. Your heart dropped when you saw his glare was fixed on Felix, his expression filling with rage. You barely had any time to react before Peter was lunging at Felix, shoving him to the ground. The Lost Boys quickly ran to crowd around their leader, whooping and cheering as he beat Felix. You rapidly pushed past the other boys, trying to move into the center of the circle where you wrapped your arms around Peter's waist in an attempt to pull him off.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Peter seethed at Felix through clenched teeth, asphyxiating the other boy as he gasped for air.

"Peter! Peter!" You yelled, finally managing to rip him off.

Once he was on his feet Peter tried to charge at Felix once more, but you barricaded yourself in front of him, holding him back. You cupped Peter's face and forced him to concentrate on you alone and not the boy writhing around in the dirt, face bloodied.

Finally, Peter looked at you, and you saw some of the anger wash away from his face as his vulnerable green eyes peered into yours.

You traced Peter's jaw with your thumb, whispering, "Peter, he's not worth it. He's not."

Slowly, Peter just nodded, ordering two of the older boys to take Felix to his tent.

"It seems Felix's time here in Neverland has been cut short," he announced, regaining his posture, "but that is no reason we shouldn't still celebrate. Boys, get the bonfire ready. We'll be toasting to a new beginnings tonight."

The boys hollered before dispersing around the camp, gathering kindle and bringing out Peter's special flute.

With the two of you alone, Peter grabbed your hand and guided you away from the campsite. The two of you walked together towards the special place in the woods where the treetops parted and the moonlight shone through. There, Peter pulled you closer, his face filled with remorse.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I don't know why I would have ever believed him," He started, but you just shook your head.

"Peter, it's fine. Really. Felix is the one to blame after trying to make me sound like some, some Runaround Sue. I understand."

"No, you don't." He answered, his tone turning serious.

Peter turned away from you, walking over to a bush of white roses and delicately plucking one.

There was silence as he fiddled with the stem of the flower in his hands, searching for the right words to say next.

"Y/N, I've never had anyone like you in my life before. Ever. I've never experienced what it's like to have something so special like this, and every day I'm just afraid that..."

His voice strained, and you moved closer to him, putting a hand on his arm.

Looking back into your eyes, he finished, "Y/N, every day I'm afraid that I'm gonna lose it. That something is going to happen like it always does, and then I'm not gonna have you anymore."

Your heart ached at the pain on Peter's face, and you swiftly wrapped your arms around him, your fingers interweaving with his curly brown hair.

"Peter, you're never gonna lose me. Ever."

In response Peter pulled you in closer, gently placing a kiss on the top of your head.

It was quiet between you two until you heard him muffle something into your hair, just loud enough for the two of you to hear.

You smiled, and once again you felt the butterflies that would erupt in your stomach every time Peter said those words.

Nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, you whispered, "I love you too."

Lessons in Mundane Living

Summary: When you realize Peter knows nothing about the real world, you try and educate him on normal, human things. 

Word Count: 573

Warnings: None

It was the first time you asked Peter for a high-five that you realized the fundamental difference between growing up in a magical world as opposed to growing up in the east coast of America.

"Excuse me?" He'd answered, looking confused and mildly annoyed at your raised hand.

"Peter." You repeated. "High. Five."

His quizzical expression quickly revealed something to you that you'd never previously considered: Peter knew absolutely nothing about the mundane world.

"Okay, so, you're honestly telling me you've never been in an irritating situation and flipped somebody this before?" You held up your middle finger, expecting some sort of flicker of recognition in Peter's eyes, but alas, nothing.

"No, Y/N, it looks like you're just holding up one finger. How is that supposed to be threatening?"

You just stared back at Peter, amazed.

Suddenly, you felt deeply intrigued at Peter's unawareness, and found yourself bombarding him with questions about the modern world.

"Okay, but do you know what fast food is?"

"What do you mean you've never heard of a microwave?"

"Yes, Peter, you can harvest power from the sun, and no it's called solar energy not black magic."

You and Peter sat on the forest floor for hours like this, going back and forth on topics such as airplanes, cellular phones, and the internet.

Peter, his irritation building up the more you prodded, finally retorted, "For God's sakes, Y/N, the last time I stepped foot in the mundane world was in the early god damned 1900s. How the hell am I supposed to know what a computer is when I barely made it for the creation of the automobile?"

"Peter, I'm sorry! It just feels like I'm talking to a martian." You couldn't help but laugh at Peter's vexed expression, which resulted in him rolling his eyes and looking away from you.

It wasn't until a thought popped into his head that Peter smiled, the signature mischievous look of his giving you cause for concern.

"What?" You asked, but Peter just shook his head, chuckling to himself.

"Peter, what." You repeated, uneasy.

"Y/N, do you know how to perform the ability of telekinesis?"

For a minute you just looked at Peter before slowly shaking your head no.

"Oh, then what about teleportation? Flying? Virtual immortality? Hmm? Any knowledge on that?"

Peter's matter-of-fact tone made you the one to roll your eyes now. "No, I don't. Your point?"

Laughter came from up above, and you looked up to realize Peter was now levitating in the air.

"Y/N," he answered, triumphantly, "I don't have to know anything about the invention of penicillin or the breakdown of Yugoslavia or any other tortuous subject you were forced to learn about in your public school education. I am the all-powerful ruler of an entire island. Your mundane experiences aren't pertinent to me."

Peter allowed himself to be set back on the ground, and after a moment of taking in his monologue, you clapped, slowly and dramatically.

"Wow. Once again, a stunning rationalization for being ignorant to otherworldly matters. Pan, you really can incorporate your being king into every conversation."

Peter sat back down, clearly proud of his demonstration. "Well, Y/N, I guess we both just have a lot to learn about each other's world's."

You looked at Peter, his eyes gleaming and a small but victorious smile still on his face, and in that moment, he didn't seem snarky, egotistical, or even snide.

In that moment, Peter Pan seemed genuinely glad to have you in Neverland.

Feeling appreciative yourself, you smiled back at him, answering, "Yeah, Peter. We sure do."

Maybe It’s Crazy (Part Five)

Word Count: 908

Warnings: Mild Violence

part one   part two   part three   part four

Being perfectly honest with yourself, you weren't sure you were going to ever hang out with Peter again after that day in the library.

It wasn't that you didn't want to (definitely not because you didn't want to.)

It was more that you were used to people not showing much interest in you after one day. It was almost as if some people just wanted a sample of you, a brief inquiry into your life, until they discovered that the real you didn't match their ideal expectation of you, and they would leave.

No one had ever stuck around permanently, no one but Red.

That is why you were surprised when, the following morning, Peter was hanging by your locker before the first attendance bell had ever rang.

Shining his signature coy smile at you, he greeted, "All bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning, aren't we?"

Truth be told, you'd stayed up late perfecting your poetry project, and now you could practically feel the bags under your eyes weighing you down.

"No, not too much." You responded, not making too much eye contact as you entered your locker combination and shoved your english textbook inside.

Peter sensed your tension and slid closer to you. "Hey, you don't look so good. Is everything okay?"

Closing your locker, you finally looked back at him, making a mental note to be cheerier around the only new friend you've made in months.

"I mean, you did just tell me I didn't look good, so," You hassled him, cracking a smile.

Peter jokingly rolled his eyes, and then the two of you were laughing. It felt so strangely natural to you, despite having only known Peter for a mere three days.

However, the brief moment of joy was cut to an end with the rough shoving of a Storybrooke High varsity jacket against Peter's black Mötley Crüe shirt.

The shove was initiated by none other than David Nolan, the school's star football quarterback, also known as the boy Peter had fought the previous day.

The shove pushed Peter hard into your locker, and you gasped, pressing your back up into the other lockers. Peter's face quickly transformed with rage, turning rapidly to face the other boy.

"What? No quick remarks to say now, huh?" David taunted, puffing out his chest and extending his arms out.  

"Oh, I have plenty. Why don't we go to the parking lot and I'll tell you a few?" Peter spat, moving closer to David, his muscles tingling for another fight.

Further down the hallway, you could see one of the trig teachers emerging from his classroom, prepared to breakup the encounter and/or call an assistant principal.

"Peter," you said, grabbing his arm, "We have to go. Please."

For a moment, you thought Peter was going to swing at David anyway, but he broke eye contact with him and looked back at you.

Before you both could hurry away, David scoffed and retorted, "Yeah, Peter, you sure have a thing for parking lots, don't you?"

Peter's body went rigid at the response, but with the trig teacher getting closer to the situation, you pulled his arm again, and the two of you quickly escaped the scene.

---

You and Peter didn't stop to collect yourselves until you were outside your first period class.

It was then you finally spoke up. "Peter, what the hell was that all about?"

Peter looked embarrassed, staring down at the square tile floors. "Nothing. It was nothing. Nolan's just a dick."

You turned up an eyebrow, tilting your head to the side. "And...that comment about you and parking lots?"

This made Peter's expression darken, and you knew you were pushing at something deep.

"Look, let's just forget it, okay? It didn't mean anything. He's probably just upset I was won the fight yesterday."

Peter's stiff response was all you needed to know that the matter had to be dropped.

"Okay, yeah. Is your arm okay at least?" You gestured to his shoulder.

"Yeah, it'll be fine." He finally looked at you, and a warmer expression entered his face. "Hey, I never got to tell you what I was thinking about."

The third and final attendance bell rang, and your chemistry teacher gave you an expectant look from inside the classroom.

"Uh, yeah. What is it?" You asked, starting to feel nervous.

"Well, it's about the Spring Fling dance...It's coming up soon, right?"

Your heart stopped for a beat, and you felt your nerves skyrocket. "Oh, um, yeah. What about it?"

Peter hesitated, and you quickly realized he was nervous too. "I don't know, I was thinking maybe we could go together? I mean, I'm new here, and maybe it's kinda lame, but I feel like I should at least try to participate. Maybe it could be fun. You know?"

"Y/N," Your teacher snapped, raising her eyebrows and gesturing to your desk expectantly.

You looked at her apologetically before quickly turned back to him.

"Yeah, Peter, I think that'd be really cool." The words came out of your mouth before you could really process them, and soon enough Peter was grinning and you were heading into your classroom, ready to learn about the Bronsted-Lowry theory and reeling over the fact that Peter and you were now attending a school dance together despite him having engaged in a fight three minutes previous.

Your head swam with confusion and wonder, with only one certainty on your mind:

You had to talk to Red.

End of Hiatus!

Hey guys! So, as some of you might have noticed, I’ve been on a kind of lengthy hiatus for most of this year. However, with summer finally here, I hope to resume writing imagines and answering back to your requests. For those of you whose requests I had been working on, I apologize for the delay, and I thank you so much for your patience. 

So, without further hindrance, thank you guys so much for staying with me this past year, and I can’t wait to be writing again and talking to you! 

Love always, E

The Party Scene

Summary: During a special celebration in Neverland, you and Peter get a little too intoxicated, resulting in a kiss that’s a little less than accidental. 

Word Count: 792

Warnings: Drinking

It's important to note that Neverland palm wine was a lot stronger than palm wine in, let's say, the Bahamas. This could be due to several reasons. One reason could be that the palm wine in Neverland was also fused with with magical substances (literally, not figuratively). Another reason for this could be that palm wine was only served at a few ceremonies a year in Neverland, meaning when the alcoholic beverage was served, the lost boys and girls tended to become a little bit...gluttonous.

That being said, the night of the First Plantings of the spring equinox, all the boys and girls of Neverland danced gleefully around the fire, more rowdy than ever before. The palm wine was a reward for their tedious farming duties, and also believed to be a good luck charm for a healthy growing season. The night of the First Plantings was a night for merriment and enjoyment, before the wearisome tasks of harvesting were to commence.

Peter stood and gave a toast to the camp, and every boy and girl raised their horns in which they drank from, lifting them up to their leader.

This was, subsequently, Peter's last sober moment of the night. Soon, he was stumbling around the campgrounds as everyone else partied away, drunkenly trying to make his way back to his tent.

You sat on a log a few feet away, also having heavily indulged in the palm wine extravaganza.

Peter, oblivious to you being in his direct path, tripped over your legs, falling face first in the dirt.

This, of course, was the funniest thing drunk you could have possibly imagined happening. You barreled over laughing, your throat and stomach becoming quickly sore but not halting your outburst.

"Y-Y/N! That's, it's not funny..." Peter whined, now sleepily lying in the dirt.

You childishly chortled for a few more moments, even having to wipe tears from your eyes, but eventually you cleared your throat and attempted to take matters into your own hands. "O-okay Peter. I'm pulling you up now. Get ready."

Standing up, you started nudging Peter's back with your foot. "Wakey wakey. It's uppp timeeee Pannn."

Begrudgingly he moaned, rolling over and extending his arms out for you to pick him up.

You attempted to pull him up, eventually having to use your whole body weight to drag him off the ground. Once he was up, he locked his arms around your neck, allowing you to haul him back to his tent as he weighed you down.

Finally in his small hut, you plopped him down on the bed, making a sloppy attempt at tucking him in.

Feeling satisfied with your good deed, you nodded to yourself, the warmth of your intoxication feeling like a spiritual blanket.

"Oooohhhh kaaayyyy, goodnighttt Peter Pannn," you started to coo, but Peter shot up in his cot, a frown on his face.

"Y/N, you're forgetting something."

You narrowed your eyes playfully, plopping yourself down on the edge of his bed. "Oh yeahhh? And what might that just be, huh?"

Peter laid back down and smiled, and you laughed, thinking he forgot what he was gonna say and decided to go to sleep.

However, Peter opened his mouth again and said, "You forgot my goodnight kiss."

You didn't think it was possible for your cheeks to get more flushed, but with Peter saying such a thing to you, the burning sensation grew even hotter.

"You want *hiccup* me to kiss you?" You replied incredulously, suddenly feeling sleepy symptoms overcome you as well.

Peter's smile widened, and you laughed in a way that made you accidentally snort.

"Okay..." Bashfully, you glanced around the room, knowing all the other lost boys and girls were partying it up around the campfire. You could still hear their cheering and whooping, although growing more distant, as though they were presumably starting to parade into the forest.

Slowly, you turned your gaze back to Peter, and before your brain could really process your actions, you started moving in. He sat up slightly too, moving his face closer to yours and meeting you in the middle. Hastily, your lips collided, and you felt the room around you rock.

Pulling back, both you and Peter's eyes were wide open.

"Say cheese!" Yelled a voice, suddenly, and a flash went off in the room.

You and Peter's heads instantly snapped toward the entrance of the tent where Felix stood giddily, a camera hanging from a strap around his neck. Out it spat the photo of you and Peter, and both of you looked at each other with a sense of impending doom.

"I'm doing a photo collection of this year's First Planting," Felix explained in between his bouts of laughter, shaking the picture so it would develop.

"Boy oh boy, are you two gonna remember this moment for a long time."

Maybe It’s Crazy (Part Four)

Word Count: 1602

Warnings: Mild Language

part one   part two   part three

The afternoon breeze gently swept the hair from your shoulders as you made your way down to the Storybrooke public library. The day's events still weighed heavy on your heart, and you tried (unsuccessfully) to suppress them.

What would even provoke Peter to get involved in such a fight? Especially with one of the school's star athletes?

Maybe, you pondered, Peter has more baggage than you realize. Maybe he's coming from a deeper place. Maybe there was a reason for Peter's polar moods.

Or maybe it wasn't that complicated at all. Maybe Peter just isn't a good guy.

The thought left a hallow feeling in your chest, one you couldn't quite explain.

You were brought back yet again to the very first day he saw you, and the way he'd acted at the diner. For a while, it had seemed like...

For a moment, you had to bite your lip from laughing out loud. Shaking your head to yourself, you pressed onwards past Mr. Gold's pawn shop and the sheriff's station.

As if, you had to remind yourself, a boy like Peter would ever have genuine interests in someone like you.

Turning the corner, you were about to finish your thought when you ran smack dab into something.

You steadied yourself, about to look up and apologize to the stranger when you saw it: black boots and ripped jeans.

You continued your gaze upwards, passing the familiar Ramones t-shirt and pierced lip until you were looking right into Peter's gleaming green eyes.

Instantly, you crinkled your nose and backed up, managing a curt, "Sorry", as you attempted to rush by him. However, Peter's arm reached out and grabbed yours, and he turned around to face you.

"Look, Y/N, can we talk?" He asked, peering down at you, his eyebrows worriedly knitted together.

If he was still angry, he didn't look it. The expression on his face almost modeled genuine concern, and for a moment, you actually pondered giving him the time of day.

Instead, you broke eye contact with Peter and tried to sound busy and disinterested. "No. Sorry. I'm late for something. "

Once again you tried to push past him, but again he gently held onto your arm, keeping you standing still. "Y/N. Please. I just wanna talk about today."

You didn't know why. You really didn't. But for some reason, you stopped trying to run and crossed your arms, leaning against the library's cement wall. Finally looking up at him again, you gave him an irritated expression and shrugged. "Fine. What do you want?"

Peter looked down at his shoes for a minute and then at the street, as if struggling to find the right words. Then, he slowly started, "Y/N, I'm...really sorry. About today."

"You acted like a total asshole today, Peter. A total asshole."

"I know. I know I did. I was just..." Peter averted eye contact again, and you wondered how one person could be so confident at times yet also so unsure of themselves.

You waited for him to continue, and when he didn't, you raised your eyebrows. "What?"

Peter just shook his head and returned his gaze to you. "I was just going through some stuff. But it's over now, and I'm really sorry. I had no right to treat you like that, and I get it if you think I'm a dick now."

Looking into his eyes, you could see the remorse swimming in them. A part of you wanted to say, "Yeah, you are a dick. Now never talk to me again."

But once again, you were brought back to that very first day, when Peter had stared at you amidst the crowded hallways, almost like you had the answer to a question he never even had to ask.

You puffed up your cheeks with air and then blew it out. Peter watched your facial expression anxiously, awaiting your response.

"Fine. I accept your apology. Okay?"

Peter's worried manner immediately transformed as he broke out in a grin, finally releasing your arm.

"Now I really have to get going. I have an english assignment to get started on." You reminded him, turning back towards the library and gesturing towards it's double doors.

"Oh, yeah. Of course." Peter turned in the same direction as you and started walking towards the entrance.

You paused, momentarily confused.

When he saw you had stopped walking, Peter looked back at you quizzically, cocking his head to the side. "What? It's alright if I tag along to help you with this assignment, right?"

Despite the red alarm going off in your head reminding you that this assignment is important, you still don't even know this boy, are you really gonna forgive and trust him just like that, you couldn't help but think of Red, and what she would tell you to do in this situation.

Hearing her imaginary words of confidence in your head made you smile, and you looked back up at Peter and nodded. "Sure. I hope you like contrasting the structural semiotics between Charles Bukowski's and Langston Hughes' works."

Peter followed you into the small brick building, holding the door open for you and laughing. "Mmm. Literary theory. My favorite."

---

As you walked up and down the aisles of tall, wooden book shelves filled with three-inch wide novels, you struggled to find a conversation starter to break the silence between you and Peter. Peter, beside you, scanned the spines of books for the surname "BO-", squinting his eyes in focus and tracing the books he passed with his index finger.

Just as you opened your mouth to ask Peter how he was liking Storybrooke so far, he asked, "So, you like poetry?"

You thought for a moment before answering. "I mean, my answer is a little more complicated than just a 'Yes' or 'No'."

Walking into the next aisle, he nudged you with his arm. "Well, lucky for you I have all afternoon."

You took a breath, thinking about how to phrase your words before you said them.

"So, basically, I do like poetry at its core," You began to explain. "The part I don't always like is how it's interpreted. Or, rather, how the poets themselves are interpreted. Like, there's sort of this over-glorification that goes on...Okay. Take Cesare Pavese, for example. He wrote a lot about the pain in his life, and the struggles that eventually led for him to end it. It's a tragedy, but not a beautiful one. A lot of people now try to make beauty out of illnesses or calamity, and I don't think that kind of romanticization is necessary, or correct. Just like how Van Gogh didn't eat paint to 'make himself feel happiness inside', but instead because he had mental illness and wanted to die. Do you see what I mean?"

You looked up at Peter when you were finished, mostly expecting him to only be half paying attention. Surprisingly, however, you found him staring back at you with a serious expression.

You were more taken aback when Peter said, "I know exactly what you mean.Some people find destruction and death romantic, when really there is nothing but destruction and death alone. They want to find beauty in something horrible when..."

"When there's nothing beautiful about it at all!" You exclaimed. "And they probably only do this because..."

"They haven't actually experienced the tragedy themselves, therefore can't relate to the actual feeling of loss associated with it." Peter finished, and the two of you just looked at each other.

You hadn't realized it, but your heart was pounding, the feeling of excitement you get of discussing a concept you're passionate about and having someone else also feel passionate about that concept rising in your chest.

Peter broke eye contact first, turning back to the row of books. He walked further down the aisle, and you could sense the slight change of air in the room.

You didn't think he'd say anything else on the matter, so when Peter spoke up again, you stopped walking.

"I feel like that sometimes." His voice had a more serious tone to it now, and he wasn't smiling. "Like some people are only attracted to me because they think I carry some mystery. Really, if they got to know me, they wouldn't be so interested."

You peered down at your hands, fiddling with the seams of your pullover. You weren't sure how to respond, and it occurred to you this was the first real personal thing Peter had ever shared with you.

You wanted to say something encouraging, but you hesitated. I mean, he's right. I don't really know him at all.

As he went further down the aisle, you watched him continue to glide his fingers over the spines of poet biographies, eventually pulling one out.

You were about to open your mouth when Peter's somberness seemed to transform completely. Holding the book out to you, a smile had returned to his face, as if he'd never said anything ominous at all. "I think this one's a keeper."

You took the book and smiled back at him, but deep down, you felt a small pang in your chest, as if you'd just missed something important.

As the afternoon dragged on, you and Peter eventually retreated to a small table to annotate poems and shoot humorous glances at each other. However, his words stayed on your mind, looping around in a circle and and making you wonder more and more.

What kind of tragedies had Peter experienced before he came to Storybrooke...

and why did he feel the need to hide them?

Troubled Counterparts (Part One)

Summary: Tricked into conducting a spell he thought would give him more power, Peter mistakenly creates a doppelgänger of himself that is out to destroy Peter as well as the whole of Neverland. As Peter’s double takes his place against his will and begins to cause affliction on the island, the evil duplicate threatens to hurt everything and everyone Peter loves in Neverland-including Y/N. 

Word Count: 1067

Warnings: Violence, Mild Language

A spell gone wrong. That’s what started it all.

Peter’s eyes skimmed the words printed in Latin on the incredibly aged parchment, his irritability slowly building.

“God damn it, where is this bloody spell?!” The boy yelled in frustration, more to himself than to his accomplice Felix, who was loitering outside the tent.

A simple spell is what Pan wanted, one he believed that could change and empower his role on Neverland forever.

His powers, he believed, were being restrained-not at all expanding to the full size they potentially could. This conspiracy had been more of an unsaid fear that Peter carried with him, never sharing it with anybody. That changed with a daring encounter with a witch, resulting in the sorceress making a deal with Peter: if he spared her life, she would give him an enchanted book containing a spell that would allow him to harness his full and total power.

Peter Pan was a boy of above average intelligence; nearly every choice he made as the leader of Neverland was one of thorough deliberation, thought, and reasoning.

However, the boy, like all, had a weakness. His was control, and his desperate, frenzied need for it.

That strong requisite for power, many knew, would ultimately lead to the downfall of Peter Pan. That, and his utterly repressed fondness for a girl on the island.

Finally, Peter’s eyes caught the words he’d been looking for:

“…potentia ex in magis…egredere et duplex…”

A wicked grin grew onto Peter’s face as the Latin words came alive in his head:

“…More power from within…come out, come out and double…”

Peter read no further, instead gathering the glass jars of items and hastily dumping them on the table.

Rather than the conventional idea of pouring the items for a spell into a cauldron as if one was making a soup, this spell had a simple procedure: place the items needed onto a flat surface not within an inch of each other, and then recite the ancient Latin text.

I. Lock of hair by praecantatrix (Latin meaning: enchantress).

II. Sanguis (Latin meaning: blood) pricked by the finger of the praecantatrix.

III. Salivam (Latin meaning: saliva) from the tongue of the praecantatrix.

Carefully aligning the lock of hair and the two vials onto the center of the table, Peter began to recite the words.

“Potentia ex in magis, egredere et duplex, arma facit in virtute, succidit cedros tulit ilicem duplici…”

Time seemed to stand still, and the boy felt himself trembling. Closing his eyes, he waited for the surge.

When a full minute had passed and nothing came, Peter re-opened his eyes and he peered around his tent. Then the realization set in that his reality had not, in fact, changed at all.

For a moment, his nose crinkled in anger, his mouth ready to curse the witch and vow to take back her life.

Then a pain erupted inside of Peter, one that felt as if it was crippling his insides.

The boy king’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he fell to the ground.

—

Letting out a heavy sigh, you struggled to untangle the gruesome knots in your hair. After a long day of running throughout the forrest along side other Lost Boys in what was a race against daylight coinciding with a fatal necessity to eat, it had all been an unsuccessful hunt. Prey on the island was growing scarce, and rumors had flown regarding the cause of this uncharacteristic change in surroundings. Each rumor had the same, harrowing basis to it, one that made your heart sink each time you heard it: Peter’s powers were dying. Once they were gone, Neverland would be too.

You tried to reject it all as mindless hearsay. Peter was undoubtedly the strongest, most resilient leader you’d ever encountered. Not a day in your life had you ever seen him weak or indisposed; it seemed nearly impossible a being such as Peter Pan could ever burn out. But after the day’s fruitless hunting with not a single sight of the island’s native magic-made creatures, you felt a horrible doubt begin to plague your brain.

Just then, a gust of wind swept into your tent, and you felt the a cold prickling on your neck.

As you turned around, you had to stifle a scream.

Putting a hand over your heart, you exhaled loudly. “Peter! I…didn’t even hear you come in.”

The brown haired boy just stood at the entrance to your tent, not moving or saying anything.

The smile you’d put on for Neverland’s leader faltered slightly, and you began to feel anxious.

Has he heard about the doubts the Lost Boys are casting upon him? , You started to think, panic making your heartbeat quicken. Does he think I share them?

Peter had a strange look on his face. He had an odd sort of smile on his face, one that was making you increasingly uneasy. The corners of his mouth were turned up, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. The way he was looking at you was more than unnerving; his green eyes followed your body up and down, and it seemed as if he was trying to figure something out in his head.

“Peter?” You timidly asked, crossing your arms over your chest protectively.

His gaze hurt, making you want to crawl out of your skin.

“Peter, please, what is it?”

He took a step towards you, and rather than offering an explanation, just said, “Y/N.”

You lifted your eyebrows at him. “Yes?”

You waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.

Instead, he just nodded to himself, his smirk deepening, as if confirming a suspicion he’d known all along to be true.

Little did you know, this version of Peter wanted to tell you everything. Peter thinks about you all the time. I can feel his thoughts about you, flooding my head right now. There’s a lot. And it’s making me want to hurt you even more.

When he finally spoke again, his words did not provide reassurance, but instead left an icy chill down your spine.

“Y/N, I believe we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other from now on.”

With that, Peter turned and left the tent.

His words echoed in your head, circling around your mind even as you crawled into your cot that night. Plagued by insomnia, you laid awake, staring at the white ceiling of your tent and repeating the same question in your mind: What had gotten into Peter Pan?

Back to Autumn

Summary: When the beginning of fall has rolled around in Neverland, you find yourself missing what the season was like back home. Peter catches you reminiscing over these old autumn memories, and tries to recreate them for you (literally). 

Word Count: 1875

Warnings: None

You could practically feel the cold, crispy air on your face as you walked through the woods. Your grin couldn't have been wider as you looked up at the tall, sturdy trees all shedding their green foliage for the season. Orange and brown leaves greeted you instead, and everything about the scene felt so familiar, so comforting, so much like...home.

Felix's barking voice ripped you out of your daydream. "Y/N, hurry up sharpening those spears already! Pan demands that we have everything ready for the fall equinox celebration before sunset, and I will not be slowed down on the account of you."

Felix's scrunched up face would normally make you laugh and roll your eyes, but today, you just solemnly resumed sharpening the wooden weapon in your hands without a word.

At first, you'd been thrilled to hear that there was a "fall equinox celebration" in Neverland. Instantly, you had pictured how beautiful the forest would look set ablaze with warm autumn colors, which then made you picture how beautiful fair-toned Peter would look stood underneath the trees with warm autumn colors. The idea that this time of the year you held so dear to you when you were home could continue in your new life was more than thrilling; it seemed like a gift.

It wasn't until you heard the other boys chattering about the holiday that you realized fall in Neverland wasn't what it was back in Storybrooke...at all.

First of all, in Neverland, the leaves didn't change color, nor did the temperature really drop more than three degrees. Essentially, the island was in summertime year-round.

Second of all, all the cute, fall festivities you would have done in Storybrooke like shopping for Halloween decorations or sipping frothy, pumpkin-flavored drinks at Granny's Diner were not a thing in Neverland. In fact, you had listened, in horror, as one of the boys exclaimed how excited he was for the big animal hunt, a competition in which Peter awarded whichever boy could slaughter the most animals and have the bones to prove it.

So, basically, the beginning of fall in Neverland was more like the ancient Pagan version rather than the commercial, modern-day version, with slaughtering and saying a weird chant around a fire and all.

After you'd completed your work (and Felix whined and eventually stomped off over your spear "not being sharp enough to stab a quail, or even a Lost Boy"), you glanced around the camp and then headed alone down the path into the forest.

You didn't really know what you were expecting. You closed your eyes, trying to envision it as much as possible:

Big, fiery trees, both orange and red, looking both so warm and so alive;

The smell of apple cider and bonfires in the chilly air, cold enough to need a jacket but not cold enough to be biting;

A boy with the perfect brown, tousled hair, holding your hand and pulling you down the pathway, brown leaves falling all around him, shaping his face until he pulls you in and...

"Y/N, what in God's good name are you doing?"

You spun on your heels, feeling your cheeks go hot.

Peter looked at you with a bewildered expression, his arms crossing over his chest and his head tilting to the side quizzically.

You tried to imagine what you looked like right now: a crazy fool, standing in the middle of the forest with her eyes closed and her hands bawled up into fists, trying to wish herself into another dimension.

Great.

Peter cleared his throat, and you realized he was waiting for an explanation.

"Oh, um, I was just..." You started, but Peter's eyebrows were arched at you, and you knew there was no easy excuse to get yourself out of it.

You decided to go with the truth, no matter how awkward and strange it would sound.

"Fall...fall was a really big deal when I was back home. As a kid I remember it was the one thing I would really look forward to every year, because I loved seeing the leaves change color and everything get cold, and I guess I just miss that."

You'd avoided Peter's eyes as you talked, not wanting to see the possible judgement on his face. But when you finally looked at him, you saw he wasn't grinning coyly or crinkling his nose in disgust. Instead, his face looked oddly...sympathetic.

Peter nodded, he himself glancing up at the trees around the two of you. "I can understand that, Y/N."

Now you had your eyebrows arched at Peter, half expecting him to make a snarky joke out of it. "Really? You can understand that?"

His eyes fixed back on you, sensing the skepticism in your voice. "Yes, I can."

Peter proceeded to walk around you, adopting a gradual pace down the path. "Believe it or not, I haven't known Neverland my whole life either. Where I came from is, or..."

He paused, as if the memory took strength to recall, and you took a few strides until you were following closely behind him,

"...was very different."

You became aware of the fact that this was the first piece of personal information Peter had ever shared with you, and the thought made your chest tighten.

Why was he telling you all this?

Peter didn't continue talking, so you just let him lead you deeper into the forest, the crunching of twigs under your feet the only thing filling the silence.

Finally, the two of you came to a clearing, and it took you a minute to register that Peter had stopped walking.

You turned to face him, only to see him extending a hand out towards you.

You took a step back, your first instinct with Peter being to assume a cautious stance before anything else. "What are you doing?"

"Y/N," he said, gesturing towards his outstretched hand. You looked down at it and then back up at him, raising your eyebrows.

"Y/N," he repeated, his voice firm but not mean, "Take it."

When you hesitated once more, Peter stared into your eyes, as if making a wordless promise. "Y/N, you can trust me. I'm not going to hurt you. Just take my hand."

Reluctantly, you reached out and grabbed it, and instantly, the world around you transformed.

You gasped, almost letting go of Peter's hand, but he held on tight to you, giving you a look that said, "Hold on."

Suddenly, the scenery around you became something very familiar. The forest floor turned to pavement, the trees becoming small, quaint shops and businesses all dressed up with fall wreaths and pumpkins.

You were no longer standing in the forest, but instead in the center of Storybrooke.

You let out a breath, feeling for a moment you were about to cry. Then you remembered Peter was there, and you turned to him, your eyes wide with astonishment.

"How...how did you...?" You tried to ask, but something out of the corner of your eye caught your attention.  

Across the street was Granny's diner. Through the windows you could see Granny pouring coffee and Red serving their first pumpkin pie of the season. Inside were all the townspeople you'd known, wearing their warm coats and talking to one another, laughing. Two little kids ran out of the diner and towards the farmer's market, chasing each other around a pumpkin.

The whole site made your heart ache.

"What you're seeing is not real, but instead a specific memory you hold of Storybrooke." Peter spoke into your ear, following your line of sight to the kids playing in the pumpkin patch. "This is the version of fall you must be remembering the most."

Feeling a tear escape your eye and slip down your face, you nodded, knowing fully well which memory you were reliving.

Lifting the hand not holding Peter's, you pointed at one of the little kids. Breathless, you whispered, "That's me."

Peter's face transformed with surprise as he stared at the child you pointed to. Then, he looked back at you, seeing the tears that had fallen down your face.

"I was only five years old. I..." You started to speak, but your voice faltered, a small sob coming out instead.

Gently and wordlessly, Peter let go of your hand.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, Storybrooke began to fade, the shops and kids and Granny's Dinner vanishing before your eyes.

Now you were back in the forest, still holding Peter's hand as if nothing had ever happened.

You quickly let go of him, using your hand to wipe the tears from your face. You tried to recompose yourself, not wanting Peter to think any further that you're a vulnerable mess. Instead, you tried to harden your voice, questioning, "How the hell did you do that?"

Peter was still looking at you, and instead of answering your question, he said, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to upset you with this."

You sniffed, trying to play it off and wishing he would stop looking at you like that. "No, no, it's fine. Really, it was just..."

"Overwhelming?" He guessed.

You nodded.

The wind ran through the trees, finally distracting Peter enough for him to get his eyes off of you.

"I used to think it was a dumb power," he began to explain, and for a moment, you forgot what you'd asked him. "I didn't think it would be helpful unless I was trying to get into someone's head and figure out their fears or something. You know, as a manipulation tactic. I think this is the first time I've used it for something...good."

The wind swept his hair above his eyes and carried his scent towards you, and you realized Peter kind of smelled like fall all the time.

"So, you can just touch someone and see their memories?" You asked.

"Kind of. It's more like I can see their strongest memories. Whatever they're holding onto the most." Peter turned to face you once more, and for a minute, his eyes lingered on your palm.

Taking your hand into his again, he stepped closer to you, his chest nearly touching yours.

His green eyes looked meaningfully into yours, and you felt your heartbeat quicken.

"Y/N, I know what it feels like to leave a large portion of your life behind. So whenever you want to go back home and experience fall, you can come find me. I'd be happy to go there with you."

The sincerity of his words and the close proximity of his face to yours made your head feel light, and you nodded, letting a small smile onto your face.

"Thank you, Peter." You told him, and you hoped he meant what he was saying, not only about taking you back to Storybrooke, but about wanting to go with you. 

Then, even more unexpectedly, Peter leaned in and kissed your cheek.

Your surprise must have been visible on your face, because Peter began to laugh, which in turn made you begin to laugh, resulting in the both of you laughing harder.

When you both finally calmed down, Peter pulled you back in the direction of camp, his fingers still intertwined with yours.

It's true that you really hadn't been looking forward to fall in Neverland.

However, with everything that had happened, you knew the season couldn't be that bad as long as Peter was by your side.

Hi dears. I apologize for the long hiatus. With fall starting, I couldn’t help but upload this small little imagine, at least to get the season started! I’m going to try to start uploading more again and responding to inbox messages, but I can not set a definite upload schedule as I can unfortunately only write when I have the time now (which seems very rare). I hope everyone is enjoying their time back to school, and I hope to be able to talk to a lot of you soon! With love always, E 

Devil In Me

Summary: Ever since you were little, you’d known you had a darkness in you. Within you were unstoppable powers, ones you couldn’t control no matter how much you tried to contain them. After fleeing home, you catch word of a place called Neverland filled with boys with problems similar to your own. You seek refuge in this island, only to find that the evil you tried to avoid in yourself is even more present in Neverland’s boy ruler. 

Word Count: 1988

Warnings: Mild Language

For as long as you could remember, you felt it: a fiery touch from all your finger tips, an inexplicable anger from within.

While most kids your age had worried about sharing their toys in the sandbox and starting kindergarten, you worried about how to control the spurts of fire that would materialize and shoot out of your palms whenever you felt anything too much.

You learned quickly that the fireballs were the biggest and most uncontrollable when you were angry.

However, this destructive black magic was not your only ability. The other power of yours was that, if someone close to you was feeling something so incredibly strongly, you could feel it too.

That is why, the night you had lost control and set the house you'd grown up in aflame, you'd been able to feel the fear radiating off of your mother and little brother. You could feel the pure terror in their hearts, how strongly they wanted you gone.

It was a weight you carried with you since the moment you left.

Then, word started drifting around town about a boy. More specifically, about a boy who ran an island of cruel and sadistic misfits on an island called Neverland.

You thought that a place so filled with wicked, unfeeling monsters would be perfect for you.

There you wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone ever again.

So, one dark, stormy night, you set a sail to Neverland, trying to let the ocean roar in your ears replace your deep longing to go back home.

As soon as you'd reached the island and met the ruler of Neverland, one thing became painfully apparent: this Boy King was the devil himself.

Peter Pan was constantly barking orders at you and spitting his hateful insults. Every time he did, you had to use all your might to fight your power, digging your nails into your palm so hard it left bloody marks. 

Still, this place was better than your fire-wrecked home.

However, as time went on, it began to feel like a constant game with Peter, him trying to push you and push you to fight back, and you repressing your emotions harder and harder.

You'd succeeded for so long, up until the night you didn't.

It'd started out as any other night at the camp did, with the Lost Boys dancing around the fire while Peter played his flute.

You never participated in this ritual. Instead, you sat a small distance away on a log, staring at the night sky and trying to not think about how, around this time back home, you would be tucking in your little brother and telling him a story of some magical place where everyone is happy, and sadness does not exist. 

It was the kind of magical place that you knew now you would never find.

When the boys finally stopped dancing they all sat down in a circle around the fire, catching their breaths from their nightly routine.

That's when you heard a boy ask another a question, and the hairs stood up on the back of your neck.

"Oi, Devin, how’d you get to Neverland in the first place?"

This question caused the boys to one by one begin telling the stories of what lead them to Neverland, and you instantly knew you had to get out of sight as fast as possible. Peter was still in the vicinity, and you knew with everything in you that he would use this as a way to get to you.

Slowly, you stood up, taking only three steps towards your hut when you heard his dreaded voice behind you.

"Now, Y/N, where do you think you're running off to?"

You turned on your heels, staring down Peter with a look of steel. "I'm tired." You said, evenly. "I’m going to go to bed."

All of the Lost Boys' eyes set on the two of you, their eager faces ready to see how this would unfold.

Peter crossed his arms, and you knew exactly what question was coming next. With a devilish smile, he announced, "But, Y/N, we haven't heard your story yet!"

Immediately, your nails sunk into your palm, and you began to mentally count to ten.

You can't do this, Y/N. You've been so good. You can't let Peter ruin this now.

"I don't have a story." You responded, trying your hardest to sound emotionless and bored.

Please. Please just leave me alone.

"Oh, well, that can't be true!" Peter exclaimed, beginning to walk around you in a circle. "Surely you have to have an explanation for being here. C'mon, we're all close! Share it for the boys and I!"

The gleam in his eyes was so wicked, and you felt it start, the tips of your fingers beginning to go red hot.

"Peter, don't." Your voice was urgently pleading, your words desperate and fearful.

You should've known this breach of emotion and vulnerability would only make Peter worse.

"Oh, shall I take a guess, then?" Peter asked, cocking his head to the side. You saw how visibly proud he felt for the entertainment he was providing for the Lost Boys, the entertainment he was providing at your expense.

Instead of responding, you just closed your eyes, feeling yourself begin to drown in your feelings. You couldn't let them overwhelm you. You couldn't.

Peter stopped circling around you once he was in front of your face. "I bet they didn't want you, right?” His voice was cruel and icy, and his words stung you. “Your family? They kicked you out for some reason, leaving you with no other choice but to come here!"

That's when Peter began to laugh, and it was such a horrible, evil sound it made you scream. 

"Stop! Please, Peter, for the love of god just stop!"

This only made him laugh harder, and you knew it was too late.

Opening your eyes, you watched the Lost Boys' expressions transform with fear as your irises turned red and blood began to spill from your nose.

"I. Said. Stop!" With a horrifying yell, fire shot from your hands, setting several huts and trees ablaze. Your power didn’t stop, and soon, the entire camp resembled a Renaissance painting of Dante's Inferno.

The boys all screamed, each one springing up from their logs and sprinting away in fear.

You didn't even look at Peter. You just turned and blindly ran into the forest, your legs trying to carry you away as fast as they could.

You ran for what felt like twenty minutes straight before you finally stopped near what seemed to be a lagoon. You knelt over, resting your hands on your knees and trying to catch your breath. Your lungs burned inside your chest, and you felt your brain repeating the same thing over and over.

You did it again you did it again you did it again you did it again you did it again-

You collapsed onto the forrest ground, finally allowing yourself to cry about everything that had happened to you in the past few days, weeks, years. 

You cried for the old and now new home you'd ruined. You cried for your mother and for your brother. You cried for yourself, for the darkness that was inside you that you didn't know how to get out, for the fact that, on an island full of monsters, you were the worst one.

A twig snapped behind you, and you didn't even bother to lift your head. You suspected it was one of the Lost Boys sent by Peter now coming to kill you for destroying their camp of ruffians.

Honestly, you didn’t blame them. 

Instead, it was a familiar dreaded voice from before, only now sounding somehow...nicer?

"Aw, love, it's nothing to cry over. Really, stop sobbing like that. Please. It's incredibly off putting."

You snapped your head up, looking behind you to see Peter Pan standing a little ways away.

You stood up, brushing off your pants and facing him. "If you're gonna kill me, just get it over with.”

Peter raised his eyebrows at you. "What? Y/N, just why would I kill you?"

You scowled, feeling heat rise in your chest once more. "Just stop it, Peter! I'm done with this game of yours! You know exactly why you would fucking kill me, so just do it before I do!"

That's when Peter closed his eyes and steadily breathed in and out. Then, he took a few strides toward you, up until you two were face to face.

"Y/N," he began, slowly, "You have...a gift."

You narrowed your eyes at him, fighting the urge to push him to the ground. "A gift?" You repeated, somewhat bewildered. "I’m sorry, did you just say a gift?"

Peter tried to speak again, but you stopped him. "I nearly killed my family because of this, this dark magic inside me, and you think that's a gift?" You felt tears burning on your waterline, and you let them fall. "I was exiled from my own home, forced to come here to this horrible fucking island, and now I've destroyed that too! And you, what, think it's some sort of gift? Well, Peter, that's a pretty god damn shitty gift if you ask me."

When you were finished, you lifted your hand to angrily wipe the tears from your face, but Peter gently grabbed your wrist, wiping your cheeks himself.

This act of kindness felt so, so foreign from Peter, and that's when you felt something. Not from your fire power, but from your other power.

"Y/N, I need you to listen to me." Peter said quietly, and instead of fighting back, you just nodded, your hands still being held by his. "I knew you had powers when you got here, Y/N. I'm magical too, remember?"

This made your eyebrows furrow. "What?"

"Just let me finish. Okay?" Peter paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "I knew you had powers because I could feel them radiating off of you. I just couldn't tell what they were. That's why I pushed you so hard, Y/N. I could feel you repressing them, and I could feel them dying to get out! I'm sorry I did and said what I did, but I needed you to let them out. You had to."

Peter now had an urgent and sincere expression on his face, and the whole thing made your head spin.

"Why?" You whispered, his words too much for you after everything that had happened that night. "Why do you need me to let them out?"

Peter dropped your hands, instead guiding his own to the sides of your face. His thumb gently traced your skin, and you closed your eyes. You couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched you this like, and the feeling was so nice, so comforting, so...safe.

"I've been waiting for someone like you, Y/N." Peter's voice was low, but he spoke with conviction. "For so long, I’ve been waiting for someone strong, someone who could help rule Neverland."

You stared up at Peter, trying to process what he was saying.

"I think that's you, Y/N."

Silence filled the air, and you tried to assess the situation, to deem whether you felt you should stay or run. 

That's when your second power kicked in again, and you finally realized what Peter was feeling that was so strong.

Want, desire, admiration, love...

You let out a gasp, and Peter's eyes widened, worried. "What, Y/N, what is it? Are you okay?"

Then you were smiling, bigger and brighter than you had in so long. You felt tears well up in your eyes again, but this time, not of sadness. These were tears of happiness.

Looking up at Peter with awe, you breathlessly exclaimed, "Peter, I can feel it!"

In that moment, Peter's expression could not have appeared more confused, so instead of trying to explain, you put your hand over his heart, letting your powers absorb more of his emotions. 

Caring, fondness, affection, love, love, love, love, love...

Just as he tried to question, "Y/N, what is going on-", you threw your arms around Peter. Without a second thought, you kissed him, making the emotions that now swarmed around you only more intense. 

For the second time that night you'd surprised Peter to the point of brief shock, but this time, he quickly wrapped his arms around your back and lifted you up closer to him.

When you had left home, you hadn't thought that you would ever feel anything close to love again. You had thought that this devil within you would forever keep you from feeling things like love, or happiness, or safety. 

Now, as you cried tears of joy into the shoulder of a boy who radiated warmth for you, you realized that the devil inside you had brought you just that.