author: @peter-pan-imagines-yo rating: PG-13 (angst) warnings: mild violence pairing: you & peter requested: naw word count: 2897 summary: you live in an orphanage in the enchanted forest and one night you’re attracted to the pied piper’s music and decide to follow it.
It seemed to begin in your bones, deep vibrations. At first, in your dreamlike state, you thought you’d imagined it. As it got louder, your eyes fluttered. There was a melody to the music, and it sounded like it was coming from a pipe.
The swells of music continued, hollow and sorrowful, raising the hair on the back of your neck. Louder, louder, until it reached a sweeping crescendo that seemed to shake your very soul. You covered ears, curling into herself. Please, make it stop.
When the music only grew louder, you crept to the window of your room and unlatched it. A gust of cool wind blew your tangled hair into your face as you leaned out. The streetlights cast a golden glow over the gloomy cobblestone street, casting shadows into alleyways. The music seemed to be coming from the forest on the edge of town, just a few houses down.
A movement in the road caught your eye, and you glanced down. A boy darted out of the shadows, eyes wide. He turned his head this way and that, and turned to the woods. He took off down the road towards the forest, and the music. Moments later another boy appeared, climbing out of a window farther down the road. He too rushed off towards the woods. As you watched, more and more boys headed down to the music. They climbed out of windows, snuck through open doorways, and they all moved quickly towards the forest.
she turned back to the orphanage room. One of the older boys, James, had left his trunk unlocked. It was near her bunk, and she silently opened it and took out some of his clothes. She slipped out of her nightdress and into a dress shirt. The clothes were too large, hanging off her slim frame, but she had no time to waste. Tying her dark hair up into a knot under a cap, she returned to the window. The boy from across the street was gone, and the group of boys on the road was thinning out.
You turned back to the orphanage room. One of the older boys, James, had left his trunk unlocked. It was near your bunk, and you silently opened it and took out some of his clothes. You slipped out of her nightdress and into a dress shirt. The clothes were too large, hanging off your frame, but you had no time to waste. Tying your hair up into a knot under a cap, you returned to the window. The boy from across the street was gone, and the group of boys on the road was thinning out.
Why did you feel the need to find the source of the music so badly? The desperation coursed through you, making you feel more awake than you had in days. You needed to find it, to dance, to yell and howl and give yourself up to it.
You threw one leg over the windowsill, sliding over until you were sitting with both legs dangling out. Slowly, you lowered yourself until your bare toes could brush the frame of the window below yours. Scrambling for purchase on the smooth stones, you finally found a place that would support your weight. You slowly made your way down the four stories to the street. When you was almost to the ground, you felt your feet beginning to slide. Oh no. Losing your footing completely, you fell the last five feet down the side of the building, landing with an oomph on your butt. Great job, Y/n. Really graceful. Your sleeve was caught on the hook of the first floor window. Trying to jerk it loose, your wrist connected with the sharp edge, producing a spurt of crimson blood. You barely noticed.
You turned towards the forest as the last boy turned the corner ahead of you. You took off down the street, straight for the golden glow where the music seemed to be coming from. With every step you took towards the source of the music, it felt welcoming, like coming home. Your body seemed to be filled with an indescribable warmth, and you just knew you had to get there, had to dance with the other boys.
Rounding the corner, you stopped short. A bonfire roared in a clearing at the edge of the woods. The flames leaped towards the sky, seeming to take the shape of wild animals as they fought and danced. Dozens of boys were dancing around the fire, yelling and roughhousing and laughing. The beat of the music sped up. One boy in particular seemed to be enjoying himself. He was wrapped in a patched cloak, his face hidden from view. He was tall, but not gangly, and when he turned, you saw he held a set of pipes in his hand. So that was where it was coming from.
A large, stocky boy approached you, his face covered with a mask that resembled a wolf. He had curly, strawberry blonde hair spilling out from underneath.
“C’mere, let’s get you a mask.” He said, leading youto a pile of what looked like furs in the corner. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Uh, Mason.” You replied. It was the name of the new baby in the orphanage.
“Well, Mason, pick a mask.” A dangerous smirk crossed the side of his face you could see.
You picked up the first mask you saw. It was a bear, made with thick, scratchy black fur. You put it on.
The boy in the wolf mask seemed impressed.
“Good choice.” He pushed her towards the crowd of rowdy boys. “Go, dance.”
You moved towards the fire, almost in a trance. The music flowed through you, simultaneously relaxing and thrilling. Following the lead of the boys standing around you, you put one foot in front of the other, clapping as you moved in the line of dancers circling around the fire. You leapt around the clearing, towards the trees and darkness, but always returning to the bonfire, you tether. As you moved faster and faster, twirling with an agility you didn’t know you had, you laughed aloud, howling and yelling along with your brothers around her. My brothers, you thought, and smiled. They were all alike somehow. You could feel it.
It seemed to you that you all had been only dancing for minutes when your noticed the sky beginning to grow lighter. You weren’t tired at all, on the contrary, you felt alive and full of energy. You couldn’t possibly go back to that orphanage ever again, not after you’d been reminded what it felt like to be free. Dancing felt like flying, the wind felt like all the truths of the world, seductively being whispered against you skin, the music felt like pure life and vitality.
All too soon, the piper stopped playing, and all at once the spell was broken. You stood in the midst of masked boys, unsure what to do. The piper climbed up and stood upon a crate by the fire, which by now was little but sizzling embers. He threw back his hood, carelessly tossing his cloak to the ground, revealing layered army-green clothes and a longsword at his waist, and began to speak. You sucked in a breath when you saw his face.
His skin was smooth and tan, the flickering firelight casting shadows across his high cheekbones. His hair was rumpled from the hood of the cloak, light brown and curly. He raised one eyebrow, casting a mischievous smirk across the crowd of boys–the crowd of boys, and you. Everything about him was maliciously handsome, from the spark in his green eyes to the way he held himself, slouched and boyish and careless. And yet you could tell that he was obviously well built, wiry and lanky and all lean muscle. His eyes sparkled with malice, and he seemed almost to be a creature from another world.
Breaking out of your reverie, you realized that you were staring and he was speaking and you weren’t paying attention because why is he so strange looking?
“…my friends, boys, tonight you are being given the chance to fly away from your lives here. None of you are happy. You all feel lonely, lost. That’s why I’m offering you an escape, a title, a place in the world where you belong. You will be the lost boys. You will fly home to Neverland with me, and we will fight and run wild and never grow old. So whaddaya say, boys?”
There was a general murmur of agreement, your own voice included. What were you agreeing to? What were you doing?
“Come on, boys!”
This time there was a roar of assent, and you felt your heart pounding and your bones vibrating and this was it. You were breathing hard. You all yelled and howled and stamped your feet and the boy on the crate was laughing with his head thrown back and once again you marveled at his beauty.
“I am Peter Pan, and you will be my lost boys!” He shouted over the calls of the crowd. “We leave tonight!”
Your heart leapt. Tonight. Tonight you would leave the hell you’d been forced to endure for the past year. Tonight would break the terrible monotony you thought would never end.
Peter Pan cast his gaze across the crowd, and when his eyes caught yours, something in your chest stirred. You knew this wasn’t right, that something about him was inhuman. What were you doing, agreeing to go with these boys? Your instincts told you to run from him, but your pushed your doubts down. You wouldn’t let him hurt you.
Next thing you knew, you were flying high above the cobblestone roads, the town hall, the hotel, and at last orphanage, so insignificant now. It was nothing like you’d imagined, this flying. At first you’d felt the need to flap your arms like an overgrown seagull, but now you were gliding smoothly, almost as if you were swimming in the sky. You felt itchy, dusty, covered in the silvery green glowing powder Pan had flung over you. The wind up there was freezing, rushing hard across your face, drying out your eyes, your mouth, stinging what little skin wasn’t covered by your mask. You’d left your stomach far behind, it seemed, as you floated and tumbled through the cold night air. Every glance down was a blast of vertigo. However strange, you liked this feeling. Your heart pulsed violently in your chest as the group of boys flew steadily higher. You flew ahead of the rest of them, ahead even of Peter himself. You could feel his eyes on you, and you didn’t like it at all.
However, you liked feeling as if you were a part of something. You liked feeling as if you were in control of your life. You liked showing off, even though flying wasn’t a skill and you’d certainly never tried it before. You felt as if you were sending a message to the world, to Peter Pan.
Suddenly you became aware that the boys were shouting. You maneuvered yourself in the air so that you could look back at them. A few of them were gesturing wildly, eyes lit with apparent excitement behind their masks. You slowed down until you were side by side with Peter himself, which made you uneasy.
“Look down!” He called to you over the roar of the wind.
The ground was far beneath you, and you could barely make out the separate buildings anymore. Not far in front of you the grassy hills of the Enchanted Forest came to an abrupt stop, giving way to sharp white cliffs emptying into a black sea. You had never seen the ocean before. Huge, angry swells of water slammed against each other, glowing white in the glare of the rising dawn. The light grew steadily brighter as the Lost Boys soared out over the sea, seemingly headed straight for one of the two stars that remained in the sky.
As night became day, you and the rest of the Lost Boys flew faster, rising up and down with the wind currents, lungs full of the freezing, thin air. You were between a tall black boy in a bird mask and Pan himself. Peter was laughing a mischievous, boyish laugh as he darted through the air with obvious expertise. Tentatively at first, you finally spread out your arms to catch at the wind, hoping to maneuver yourself away from Pan. Before long, you were controlling your flight with ease, flitting in circles through the boys, your arms propelling you faster.
After what seemed like mere minutes, Peter was once again calling for the attention of the crowd. Heads turned to him as he gestured downwards through the thick layer of clouds. When it became clear that no one could see, he rolled his green eyes in annoyance.
“Whah are we suppose to be lookin a’?” asked a scrawny boy to your left sarcastically.
When Pan’s eyes locked with the boy’s, he seemed to immediately sense he’d made a mistake. For the first time, you were fully appreciating how dangerous and powerful this boy was; and it made your throat close. His expression positively dripped malice and disgust. Slowly, the scrawny boy began to sink lower in the sky, his mask slipping.
“No- uh, Pan, what-” he groaned.
“You are not a believer.” the boy was falling faster now. “You do not belong in Neverland.”
N-” his cry was cut off as he slipped through the air, gathering speed as he hurtled toward the ground. The clouds parted around him, revealing a black ship sailing across crystal blue waters.
When the rest of the Lost Boys looked around in shock, Pan smirked. “He’ll land safely on the ship. Who knows, maybe Hook’ll take mercy on him. Boys! Through the clouds below you-” the clouds parted with a wave of his hand, revealing a small, lush and green island “-is your new home. My home. Our home. Welcome to Neverland.”
He dove gracefully through the air, seeming to swim towards the isle, clothes and hair ruffled in the warm breeze. The rest of the boys (and you) followed suit, laughing and shouting with glee as they rushed through the air. The island grew steadily larger as you fell through the air, and soon you could make out shimmering blue rivers snaking through the dense jungle. The sun cast light off the sea, as by now it was high noon. Dozens of ocean coves ridged the outline of the island, some sparkling green and shallow, others ominous looking and dark. The landscape was hilly, and as you darted after Pan, you saw that they seemed to be headed for a clearing on the tallest rocky mountain.
“Land there!” called Pan. “Sextant Mountain.”
“Why’s it called that?” asked a chubby boy near Pan.
“Hasn’t happened yet, but someone’s gonna pretend to lose a sextant up there.”
“You can see the future?”
“What the hell is a sextant?”
Curious questions from the boys bombarded Peter Pan as they made their way through the treetops, so close now to the forest floor.
Pan just laughed.
Before long you all landed with a bump in a small forest clearing. You stumbled upon your landing, nearly falling to your knees. Peter smirked at you. You made eye contact with him, astonished. As you watched, his face seemed to be filling with color, eyes brightening.
Slowly, your body sore, you pulled herself into a standing position. How strange it felt to walk on solid ground after so many hours of flying! You groaned, sucking in breath after breath of air that finally felt full and substantial. One thing was sure; you definitely preferred walking to flying. Almost laughing with relief, you spun in a circle, before remembering that you were a boy and boys don’t dance. You turned attentively back to Pan, like the good lieutenant you were.
“It feels so good to have full power here,” murmured Peter, flexing his wrists. Suddenly he went completely still.
When he turned to face the group, his eyes were once again full of mirth and malice. You felt a sliver of fear slice into you.
“Line up, boys! One of you has misled me. Misled us all.”
You held your breath as you stood in line with the other boys, facing Pan. He couldn’t know, could he? Unconvincingly, you attempted to force your posture into one of an easygoing, unanxious Lost Boy. But Peter was too smart, you knew. Again and again, you silently thanked the gods for your mask, for certainly your face was pale and nervous. Pan paced up and down the line of boys, all confidence and power. He turned and stood right in front of you. Slowly, his hands reached for youe mask, callused, strong fingers brushing your collarbone, making you shudder. He knew. Oh god, make him stop touching me. Your heart rate sped up. His touch felt like poison as his hands moved forcefully up your neck, tracing your jaw. When he found the seam of the mask, he drew it off agonizingly slowly. Without looking at your face, his hands untied your hair, letting it fall loosely around your shoulders.
Hi could you do an imagine with Peter Pan where you are in Neverland not for so long, you and Peter are always sarcastic and sassy towards each other and Pan likes how you can take care about yourself, how you’re not like any other girls who’s still crying and how you’re sassy to him and at the end could be a kiss where you admits your feelings. Please? :D :)
“Y/N, go help them, will you?” Peter ordered with a low growl. He was beyond annoyed with the boys today.
“As if I’d help them clean their bunks. It’s their mess, not mine.” You rolled your eyes and walked away.
Peter growled again. He was frustrated. You were new to the island, and that caused the Lost Boys to react in a weird way. They became more unruly, more o trying to impress you. All it did was get them in trouble. Now they had to fix up camp.
“You’re the reason this happened, Y/N. So help.”
“Oh yeah, you’re right. I definitely asked to come to an island full of boys via Shadow–”
“I saved you and took you away from that hellhole you called a home!”
“I was taking perfectly good care of myself there,” You retorted.
Peter rolled his eyes, waving you off. You walked away once again, entering the jungle.
“I don’t know what it is about her, Felix. She’s not like most girls or boys. She didn’t cry once when she got here. She’s only full of sass and sarcasm.”
“Just like you.”
Peter was talking to Felix. You were so different and not like most of the people who entered Neverland. You were tough and fierce, not afraid to sass him. It baffled him since he’d never experience it before with anyone.
“She’s… We’re nothing alike!”
“Except that you’re both blunt and like each other,” Felix smirked.
Peter shot him a glare, huffing out air. “I don’t like her. Why would I?”
Felix only gave him a knowing look. It was obvious with the tension that there was something there. The sassy remarks and the fact that sometimes your’s or Peter’s sin would flush after an interaction.
“You like her, mate.” Felix patted him on the back, standing up and walking off.
Peter only scoffed, crossing his arms and pouting. “I don’t like anybody.”
That wasn’t the case, however. There was tension, there were feelings. You both found one another attractive. The sass and sarcasm was only a bonus. In lots of ways, you guys were alike.
Later that day, when you and Peter crossed paths again, was when things took a turn…
“Stalking me, I see?” You raised both your brows at him, crossing your arms.
“Just checking in. Don’t want the little girl getting lost.”
You glared at him. His tone had obvious sarcasm in it.
You were still in the woods, passing through the large trees and admiring the nature. You were enjoying yourself. Then Peter came along and ruined your peace.
“I told you, I can take care of myself. So piss off.” You sent him a glare, not wanting to deal with him. But of course, Peter made it worse by pointing something out.
“Are you… blushing?” Peter smirked.
Your face fell. No, you couldn’t have been blushing. You no longer felt heat on your cheeks from moments before. You were thinking about Peter before hand, thinking about how cute he was and stuff he’s said to you. It caused you to blush. Maybe you began to blush again when you saw him.
“No?” You tried to play it cool.
Peter cocked an eyebrow up, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Really?” He said. “Because… I quite like it when you blush.”
You averted your eyes from the ground to him. He couldn’t be serious, could he? Your mind was racing. These words were not leaving Peter Pan’s mouth.
“I like you a lot, Y/N.” Peter stepped closer. “So much. You make me crazy. You’re fearless, sassy, cute…”
“Don’t what? Don’t continue?” Peter got real close. The tip of his nose touched your ever-so-lightly. His breath hit your face and neck. He was in your personal space.
You looked at Peter’s green eyes. They were so pale, even this close to you, they still seemed so pale and light. They were beautiful.
His eyes distracted you from noticing that he was leaning in to kiss you. Once you realized what was going on, you flinched. It was too late to back out, however, as Peter’s lips were on yours. He kissed you tenderly, holding your cheeks in his hands. You didn’t know where to put your hands, you were in such shock. You only stood there, kissing him back.
“Now that that’s out of the way…” Peter spoke the second he pulled apart.
“Out of the way? What do you mean out of the way?” You immediately got defensive.
“No worries, love. I just needed to kiss you… And maybe make you my…” He was having issues saying the word. Now you smirked, cracking a Cheshire grin.
“Yeah, that,” he mumbled. Now he was the one blushing.
Peter looked at you with wide eyes. His hand was on the back of his neck, and he looked genuinely shocked. You smiled hugely, grabbing his hand.
“C’mon, boyfriend. Let’s walk back to camp. I’m hungry.”
Peter followed you, his hand in yours. He didn’t take his eyes off you the entire way back.
“Fuck you,” Emma says, breathing heavily. “Fuck you. I thought you got it.”
Regina shakes her head. “You don’t even get it,” she says, bitterly mocking. “You don’t know what you want. You’d rather believe in a fraud than you would acknowledge that it doesn’t matter. Isn’t that what your New York dream is?”
It’s over a year of animosity restrained, Regina’s resentment finally unleashed with the threat of Emma running, and– “You’re wrong,” Emma says, straightening. “You’re wrong about this. I always knew what I wanted.” She’d done what she’d done in spite of it, and if Regina doesn’t know that, then…
She turns on her heel, yanking open the study door and barely noticing Henry on the other side of it, gaping at her. “Enjoy your new soulmate,” she bites out, stalking toward the door. “I know he will.”
Regina says, “Go to hell,” and Emma storms out the front door, slamming it behind her.
Summary: Emma’s an agent working to reunite missing people with their families when the biggest missing persons case of all time appears in front of her in a flash of bright, white light. Thousands of missing people from throughout history, including one particular pirate, appear on the shore of a lake in the middle of winter: none have aged a day since their disappearance and, with no memory of their missing time, must venture into a strange and uncertain future. Loosely based on the TV show “the 4400.”
The isolation room is as quiet as Killian remembers.
He lies on the thin cot in his cell, staring up at the ceiling with his arms crossed over his chest. It’s late in the morning on his fourth day of returning to the isolation room, and apart from the meals shoved under door from a disgruntled guard and the two times Belle has come to see him, Killian’s been alone in the silence. Like last time he was in this isolation cell, his only company is his mind and its twisting, racing thoughts.
And twisting they are.
Though it was apparent from the moment he stood on that cold lakeshore that this world is different than anything he’s ever known, Killian has spent a lot of these last few days ruminating on his long-held beliefs that he’s finally accepting no longer hold.