you were my forest; and i your sea

Dear darling,

Let me sleep on the bow of your lip
and dream of the way it curls
when you laugh.

Look at me with those forest eyes
so I can feel the heat of a

Scorch me 
in the fire between your legs
and soothe my lips with your salty sea water.

Envelope me in your embrace
and bruise me
with your hollowed words.

I want your storms and earthquakes,
your sunsets and mid-summer breezes,
your festering wounds and devilish thoughts,
your child-like dreams and courageous heart.

Let me love you as you were made,
and hold you
until I burn up in flames.

Yours sincerely, unconditionally.

—  A love letter (e.a.b)

You wake up in the cold damp sand of a unfamiliar island. You slowly rise from your position and look before you as you see nothing but the sea. You turned around and saw thick jungle that was impossible to see through. You were lost in thought until a voice spoke next to you. 

“What are you doing on my island?” He demanded. The boy had unusual clothes that you didn’t see people wear back at home. His expression was unreadable but his forest green eyes were, his eyes were like a warning. His eyes like the ocean, only making you fall deeper in them.

“I-I don’t know where I am.” You stuttered. He smirked and came closer to you. 

“Interesting.” He whispered as his beautiful eyes studied you. 

“Where’s my family?” You asked out of curiosity, not concern. 

“Don’t worry about them, soon enough you won’t even remember what they looked like.” He said bluntly. And for some reason his words didn’t scare you, even when they were said in the most menacing way.

“What’s your name?” You asked politely. 

“Did I forget to introduce myself? I’m Peter, Peter Pan.” Now you understood why you were here, everything made sense after he simply said his name. Then Peter said something that caught your attention.

“My very first lost girl.” He whispered to himself with a genuine smile. Your heart skipped a beat when he said that.

His lost girl PT. 1

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

Warnings: Fluff, sad ending, bad grammar oops (trough the whole story, not only this chapter)

Summary: When you first appeared on the island Peter hated you, but that quickly changed as you were independent and not weak. 

Pairing: Peter Pan x Reader

Requested: Can you do an imagine with Pan x reader, with a lot of fluff but at the end when Rumple daggers him he dies in her arms? - anon

Notes: Y/n = your name - y/e/c = your eye colour


I feel the sand tickling my feet as I step further on the beach. Right ahead of me is a huge forest and behind me is the sea. I continue my way to the forest. I don’t know how I came here, and honestly I don’t even want too. It scares me that I don’t know anything anymore, I only know my name. Perhaps my head hit something, and perhaps that caused my amnesia. 

As I walk further into the woods, deeply thinking about how I got here, I hear something near the bushes on my right. “Who’s there?” I ask. Suddenly the bushes on my left start moving. I grab my dagger and prepare myself. “This is not funny. Show yourself!” 

I feel a movement behind me and I quickly grab the dagger and pin the person against a tree, dagger at his throat. I look at the person standing in front of me. The good looking boy smiles nervously. “You’ve got fire. I like fire.”

I eye the boy, his green eyes go right trough my y/e/c ones. “Where are your parents?” “What do you mean?” he asks confused. “Well your only a teen, you can’t be here alone.” “I’m older than I look. And by the way aren’t you also a teen?” He cocks an eyebrow. 

I push the dagger harder against his throat. “That’s none of your business. And what you’re twenty?” “Actually I’m over two hundred years old.” “You’re crazy, that’s what you are. Who are you anyways?” The boy looks at me with pure annoyance. “I’m Peter. Peter Pan.”

I burst out in laughter. “Yeah, of course and I’m the easter bunny.” ‘Peter Pan’ rolls his eyes and opens his mouth again: “You should watch out girl. My patience isn’t endless.” He moves his hand and suddenly my dagger is gone. I step away from the boy, confusion all over my face. “You believe me now?” he smirks when I look up. I shake my head no, Peter Pan is a character from a Story book. He’s not real. “Okay where are the hidden cameras? Can I have my money?” I look around in search for the hidden cameras. “What are you speaking of woman.” My attention floods back to him. Has he never heard of a prank before? 

He grabs my arm and suddenly we’re in the middle of a camp, surrounded with boys. As soon as they see me they begin whispering. “Is that a girl?” “Who’s that?” “Is that his girl?” “Where did she come from?” “I claim her!” Pan roll his eyes at the last comment. “I’m sorry Max, but she’s not to claim. She’s mine.” I cock an eyebrow at him. “I’m not an object, and I’m sure not yours!” “Oh but you are. And you are coming with me.”

He grabs my wrist and drags me to, I assume his tent. “Undress.” “What?” “You heard me, undress.” I turn around and walk to the door. If he thinks I’m going to do what he wants, he’s wrong. But suddenly I bump into someone. Into him. “But h-how?” He shush’s me by pinning me against the door. “If I say that you need to undress yourself, you undress yourself. Understood.” I roll my eyes. Out of nowhere I slap him right in the face. 

“No is no.”

“Oh but you’re going to regret that, love.”

Once upon a time
when we were young
you called me the salt of the earth.
It’s hard to admit,
you are the only earth
I would crumble into

Because the people of my past
knew only a desert void.
No ocean in motion, no life in lakes,
Seeds were planted, Few took root.
Then the rain, then the spring.

I became your evergreen companion.
Neither you nor I know,
Just how many seeds you have planted in my soul?

Now I know that you’ll be gone soon,
but before you leave
I want you to know,
The seas that pour out
will only ever nourish them.

I used to be such a closely guarded garden,
caged within pride and lies.
You never saw before,
How I my heart grew into a forest.

And when I gave you the key,
you reached in and felt the rivers run.
I may never know what you expected
In the groves that we planted,

But maybe I’ve grown too vast.
No space for new trees.

I am already too full of you.

—  mikahari

I never wrote you a poem before, your hair never invoked
words to fall from mind onto ink, onto paper. Your eyes
never looked like lakes, or rivers, or seas for me to soak in. Your thighs
were never mountains or forests. Your voice
was never a song to sing to the skies.

I never saw you as art, just another a la carte menu
to order from. I saw the beauty in everything
around you, always slightly
out of focus.

You never liked my work before, my metaphors never
created emotion in your eyes whatsoever.
My poems were always about
some other boy, in some other place. A dream
or somewhere in space. Anything but you
never you.

It’s the absence of your hands wrapped around my skin, it’s the
fear that I will never taste your lips again, the feeling of forgetting
what we once were.

We are scars on each other, dents in each other’s existence, born out of
different fires, lit by the same stray match.

Not fire and water,
but fire and fire, burning brighter but also burning out. We burnt
our initials into everything we touched.
Again, and again, and again.

Third-degree burns make your nerves numb, a swig from that bottle made your face numb, and a hit
from that pipe you hated so much, made my pain numb.

Guess in the end we both wanted the same thing, I think
they call that irony.

Like the irony that it took 323 miles for me to realise that I loved you.

—  my first poem about you, Rafael Ortiz.