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eleonoraalbright · 8 months

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An Ill-Timed Confession Part 1

Pairing: Peter Pan x fem!reader (kinda)

Summary: You tell Henry about your romantic feelings towards Peter Pan. Unfortunately for you, he turns out not to be Henry.

The citizens of Storybrooke gathered in Granny’s diner to celebrate. Most wore big jovial smiles and talked excitedly to their companions. You took note of the absolute happiness that seemed to radiate from David and Mary Margret. Nevertheless, their daughter was uneasy, as if she half expected the Pied Piper himself to waltz through the doors and rip her son’s heart out.

You felt sorry for Emma’s needless worrying, but understood where it stemmed from. After all, many restless nights would have to be endured before you forgot Pan’s threats in Neverland, not that you wanted to forget every single comment of his just yet. You pushed that particular thought back deep in your mind where it would have to be reconsidered later. You chose to focus on more trivial matters.

Hook was seated at the bar, drinking with the boisterous dwarves. It didn’t escape your notice how often his gaze flickered between the Savior and her ex-boyfriend; Neal left his place beside Henry to chat with Mother Superior. You eyed the pirate’s ill-natured manner with interest when Ruby interrupted your musings of his unfortunate predicament by placing a steaming mug of apple cider on the counter.

You accepted the hot beverage, maneuvering your way through the crowded restaurant and slid into the booth to sit across from Henry. His attention was directed to the storybook in front of him. Even upside down, you recognized the illustration of Cinderella dancing at the ball with her prince. Henry glanced up, seeming apprehensive at your arrival, he tensed for some strange reason. His fingers tapped the edge of the smooth paper.

You offered him a reassuring smile. It would be reasonable for his nerves to be a bit frayed after his harrowing adventure. You blew on your drink and asked in a quiet tone, “How’re you holding up?”

“Good. It’s good to be back here with my family.”

You nodded your head in agreement. That was the understatement of the year. The distress and danger he went through the past few days must have been unimaginable. People often said kids were resilient, however, it was odd how unfazed Henry was at being reunited with his loving family. Odder still was his cold and distant attitude towards you. This was the first genuine conversation you two had exchanged since his capture. It was unlike him to keep to himself for so long.

You were close friends and confidants. It was worrisome for Henry to be this reserved around you. What had happened in Neverland that would have caused such an abrupt change? The next second, you berated yourself for such a thought, having one’s heart torn out would have drastic mental consequences. It was possible he wasn’t comfortable discussing his feelings yet. On the other hand, it would be harmful if he kept them bottled up inside his mind to fester.

The best course of action was to respect his silence and hope in time he would open up. You took another sip of cider while Henry went back to reading. The message was clear; he had no interest in talking any further. The temptation to leave was strong, but you remained in your seat. There was a question you were desperate for Henry to answer, the sooner the better. You blurted out, “What was he like?”

He glanced at you again. “Who?”

“Peter Pan. What was he like? I only met him a handful of times on the island, and he was pretty intimidating. How did he act around you? I mean, Pan was deranged, how’d he manage to convince you to give up your heart?”

Henry shrugged and flipped a page before replying. “He told me magic was dying and my heart was needed to save it. I believed him. And he was…” Henry shivered a little. “He was scary. I’m glad he’s gone.”

You propped your elbows on the table and rested your chin in the palm of your hand, waiting for him to elaborate. He didn’t. Henry reached for his glass of root beer, refusing to utter one more word. You sighed, “Too bad he was a psychopath. Pan was kinda hot.”

Henry spat out his drink, spewing the soft drink all over the table and its contents. You grabbed a handful of napkins and dabbed them on the storybook. “Henry, be careful you almost ruined it!” Emma paused speaking to her parents and shot you both a quizzical look. You waved the wet napkins at her, signaling everything was fine, only a little spill had happened.

“What did you say?” Henry wasn’t the least bit concerned about the precious book. His eyes were wide and his mouth somewhat agape.

“I know, I know, he was a murderer and evil and wanted to kill all of us. But in my defense, he was attractive.”

Henry said nothing for a solid minute, and stared at you as if an extra head had grown from your neck. You were beginning to worry that the poor boy’s brain had broken upon hearing your staggering statement.

As the seconds ticked by you began to regret saying your astonishing confession aloud. Your attraction to Pan was something you had been grappling with ever since laying eyes on him.

You shamed yourself for feeling this way toward such a revolting person, but that would not dampen them. During the adventure, it had been eating you alive from the inside out.

The rest of the group had been debating over the best way to save Henry, how to rescue Neal, and the complications of getting off the Island. Meanwhile, you had been battling the guilt of being enamored with your best friend’s captor.

Near the end of the journey, you made peace with this upsetting fact by realizing you could acknowledge Pan’s attractiveness and still hate his guts for kidnapping Emma’s son.

Though the shock on Henry’s face made you question the wisdom of admitting this so soon after the terrible ordeal. You were on the brink of explaining your more nuanced views to him on this delicate subject when his expression changed.

The corners of his lips turned upward in a disbelieving smirk as he raised one eyebrow in wonderment. He said in a soft voice, almost to himself, “You… like Pan?”

The grin spread wider across his face and he covered his mouth with a hand to muffle the sound of his laughter. His body shook in a fit of merriment. He pointed a finger at you; his eyes contained a mocking glint which was quite foreign to them. “You have a crush on Pan!”

You were uncomfortable at his reaction, but believed it was somewhat deserved. Gesturing to him to lower his voice, you attempted to hobble together a defense. “Not really a crush per say, I–”

Henry interrupted, “That’s so gross. He's– he’s Rumpelstiltskin's dad!”

“That’s true, but it just makes me wonder whether or not Mr. Gold was that good looking in his younger days,” you joked.

He shuddered at that remark and twisted his features into one of disgust. “Ew, I’ll never understand girls.” Puzzled at your stance on his villainous great grandfather, Henry probed, “Why did you like him?”

“Like is a strong word. I didn’t like him. He was gonna kill us all for Pete’s sake, but I did observe that Pan was blessed… genetically speaking.”

A mischievous air hung about Henry as he inched forward in his seat, tilting his head close to yours, and whispered in a low tone. “Tell me, do you fantasize about Peter Pan?”

Your mouth dropped open at his blunt question. You replied in a strained voice, “Henry, that’s a very inappropriate thing to ask.” What on earth had possessed him to say that?

Moments earlier, he was repulsed at the prospect of you harboring secret feelings for Pan and now he was inquiring whether or not you fantasize about his relative!

It was your turn for your brain to stop working. Henry had never, never asked you such a personal question in all your years of friendship. This was most unlike him.

Was there a chance he had bashed his head on a rock somewhere to justify this sudden change of personality? He leaned back into the booth. “That alone gives me my answer.”

Before you could chastise him for his nauseatingly smug attitude, Emma sauntered next to the table. “Sorry to break up the chit chat, kid, it’s time for something you didn’t have in Neverland. Bedtime.”

Henry closed his book, disappointed for having to leave so soon. You were quite relieved; however, sensing Henry was having far too much fun with this knowledge at his fingertips. You were too stunned at your friend’s response to see he had left with Regina and not Emma.

That conversation had left a bad taste in your mouth. Something wasn’t right with Henry and it made you uneasy. Regret at having confessed your passing fancy towards Peter Pan seeped through you. It could be that this Neverland escapade still had a few loose ends that needed to be tied up.

You help David and Emma cover Mother Superior's body with a blanket. You shoved your trembling fingers in your coat’s pockets. Your eyes darted up to the sky and scanned for any sign of the one who did this. You didn’t feel safe. At any moment you could meet the same fate as well. The danger was lurking around the corner and–

“What the hell happened?”

You jumped slightly as Regina and Henry raced up to your group.

David answered her. “The shadow, it killed her.”

“Pan’s shadow? I trapped it on the sail.” Regina was confused.

“Yeah, well, it got free.” Emma said while crouching on the steps.

Comprehension dawned on everyone as they realized what that meant. Pan was back. You moved to Henry and wrapped your arms around him in a protective gesture. All thoughts of last night's events flew from your mind.

If Pan was somehow controlling the Shadow from inside the box, then he would never stop terrorizing them until he had the Truest Believer’s Heart. Henry was going to die. The adults discussed what to do as you patted Henry on the head.

The boy said in a hollow voice, “So Pan can still hurt me?”

Regina responded to comfort him, “We don’t know that.” You knew it was inevitable he did though.

“But we have to assume he’s still a threat.” Mary Margret clasped her hands together in worry.

You added, “And that he’s after Henry.”

“Then what am I doing here?” Henry wriggled out of your grasp, looking anxious.

David said, “He’s right. He’s not safe out in the open.”

“You’ll protect me, right?” He hugged Regina as she consoled him.

You were put off at how easily he disregarded you in favor of his mother. It was like he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. But of course, it was natural for a son to turn to his mom in his time of need.

You stopped scolding yourself when you overheard Emma tell Regina that Henry didn’t seem like himself. Your feelings of unease felt vindicated now if she was aware that her son was acting a bit different. It made your head spin; what could it mean?

After convincing Mr. Gold to give up Pandora’s Box, you all drove to the edge of Storybrooke. You huddled close to Mary Margret and David, watching the red smoke swirl out of the box.

It transformed into Pan, and Emma cocked her gun. Pan stood up, breathing hard, he acted confused, and dumbfounded to see everyone's mistrustful faces. You had to admit, he was a good actor. You couldn’t believe the next words that popped out of his mouth.

“Mum?”

Emma was also taken aback. “What?”

“What are you waiting for? Shoot him,” Gold ordered.

Pan panicked. “Don’t! Please! I’m Henry. Pan, he switched our bodies.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Emma continued pointing the gun at him.

You didn’t know what to think of this situation. You wanted to trust him. It would explain Henry's peculiar actions. The other, more cynical part, of your brain was reprimanding yourself for entertaining the outlandish idea.

Pan was a master manipulator, capable of slaughtering you and your loved ones in a millisecond if it benefitted him. He toyed with people’s minds and reveled in the horrible game of it. Your sympathetic side excused that truth when seeing Pan’s face. He was hurt and betrayed. Henry, you were sure it was him, needed a friend.

You almost took a step over the red line when Gold stopped you with his cane and said, “Don’t listen to him. This is one of his tricks.”

Pan/Henry was adamant. “No, it’s not! He did it right before Mr. Gold captured me in the box. I swear!” He stepped forward, but Emma stopped him.

Holding one hand out, she commanded, “Don’t come any closer.” Mr. Gold ordered her to shoot him again. She didn’t. “Maybe he is telling the truth. Maybe that’s why I can’t shake this feeling something’s off about Henry.” Mr. Gold argued with her, but Emma asked Pan to prove his claim.

He started listing facts about Henry. They weren’t persuaded by this. Emma stated, “Pan might know facts. But life is made up of more than that. There are moments. He can’t possibly know all of them. The first time you and I connected, you remember that? Not met, but connected.”

Pan’s face softened at the happy memory. He told her the conversation they had at his castle right after she came to Storybrooke. Emma lowered her gun and embraced him. “It is Henry.”

She released him and they crossed the line into Storybrooke. Henry hugged his grandparents and you soon followed. He enveloped you in a bone crushing hug which you returned with equal joy at having your friend back. It was a little weird since every sense told you this was to all intents and purposes Peter Pan. You pulled back to examine him.

Staring into his green eyes, you squished his cheeks. “This is so surreal.” You tapped his nose. “You really look like him, ya know.” Henry laughed, a delightful but bizarre sound coming from Pan’s throat. It was too innocent.

The full impact of what was happening hit you. You retreated a couple of paces from your friends, and hid your face as mortification overcame your entire being. “Oh no.”

“What’s wrong?” Henry put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Your face felt ablaze. If Pan was Henry, that meant… “I might’ve– I didn’t know it was him!”

Mr. Gold urged you to go on. “Yes? What is it?”

You gulped as they came closer. “Last night at Granny’s, I told Henry—who I thought was Henry—that Pan was hot.”

Both David and Mary Margret closed their eyes in exasperation. Emma stared at you, questioning your sanity. Bell grinned, and to your surprise, Mr. Gold was unbothered by this. “How tragic. However, we have larger problems that must be dealt with other than your lack of taste.”

“Do you think he’ll do anything to me for saying that to him?” You asked Henry. He had smirked at your confession, which had made your heart beat faster at the sight. You wanted to slap yourself for that reaction. Now he frowned at your inquiry.

“I don’t know. Pan might not care or he might target you because of it. Don’t worry about it. We’ll stop him.”

You climbed into the truck’s backseat. The sinking sensation settled in your stomach despite Henry reassuring you everything would turn out for the better. Peter Pan had a plan and it would lead to everyone’s ruin. Your only hope was that he wasn’t concocting a special method of torture for you since laying open your abashed feelings towards him.

(The previous night)

In the body of his grandson, Pan walked arm-in-arm with Regina down the sidewalk to her home. It was loathsome having to humor the woman while she talked to whom she believed was her son. He answered her relentless questions to the best of his ability, keeping his replies vague and unassuming.

She didn’t seem to heed his noncommittal responses. He was impatient for this part of his scheme to be done. He restrained his strong desire to kill her this instant because he had to find her vault first. Pan distracted himself from that impulse by thinking of what you had told him.

It would be beyond humiliating for you when you found out the truth. He couldn’t wait to see your gobsmacked expression when he revealed his true identity, and made Storybrooke into the New Neverland.

Peter Pan would make you regret ever spilling your secrets to him. He was eager to make you into his new plaything, to see how long it took you to cry, to break. He wondered how far over the edge he could drive you. Grateful for the limited light, he allowed a cruel, sadistic smile to form on his lips. This was all too perfect and pleasurable for him.

#peter pan #peter pan x reader #peter pan ouat #peter pan ouat imagines #x reader #once upon a time imagine #cross posted on ao3

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eleonoraalbright · 3 months

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The Mystery of Mistletoe

Pairing: Peter Pan x fem!reader

Summary: You find yourself underneath a mistletoe with Pan. Unfortunately for you, when you rush off in a hurry it leaves Peter with an insatiable desire to know why you are afraid of the small plant.

You hummed a merry tune while your hand brushed over the bushes’ green leaves to find edible berries. The dazzling sun hung high in the cloudless blue sky, causing beads of sweat to roll down your forehead.

You wiped them away and continued your work. It was a great pity that berry picking had to be done during the hot afternoon. The cool mornings were too full to add this chore to the busy schedule, and the evening sun would trick your eyes into picking the wrong, poisonous berries.

Your two consolations were that three out of the four baskets were filled, and you had help with the task. Peter Pan himself labored alongside you in the humid jungle. You were very grateful for his aid though you couldn’t fathom why he did it.

Surely, as Neverland’s ruler, he had better things to do than this. You wouldn’t voice this question aloud, lest he decide to quit the drudgery. Pan straightened out from hunching over the greenery and arched backwards, a satisfying pop emitting from the stretch.

“Let's take a quick break,” he suggested. Even though you had half a basket left and a break would prolong your time out here, you agreed. You and Pan sat on a log to rest. You brought out your waterskin and took a much-needed drink.

The cool water soothed your parched throat. You would have taken another long swig, but Pan held out his hand for a turn. You handed it to him for he must have been as thirsty as you were. He tipped the water skin and gulped down the refreshing liquid.

A trickle of water escaped his mouth and ran down the side of his chin. You had half a mind to catch the single drop with your finger and lick it. Not one bit of water should go to waste, should it? You shook your head to clear your muddled thoughts. It wouldn’t be a good idea to do that.

Annoying insects buzzed around your head, adding to the discomfort. A mosquito landed on your arm and you slapped it off. Had you been thinking, you might have worn a long-sleeved coat to ward off the blood-sucking bugs, but the notion had seemed like lunacy in the oppressive heat.

Your options were being drenched in buckets of sweat or covered in small, red bites. You had chosen the bites. Now it seemed the wrong one to pick; the following nights would be spent scratching your arms, legs, and neck to relieve the itchiness. Pan let out a sigh and scooched closer to you on the log where it was partly in the shade. He tossed the empty waterskin to the ground.

“Do you think you could assign some other Lost Boys to berry picking tomorrow?” If you had to endure yet another day in the muggy forest, you would scream. Well, that was a lie. You were too tired to scream, the most you would be able to muster would be a grumble.

“I don’t think anyone will do any chores tomorrow. We’ll all need a respite from this blistering heat. Tomorrow we’ll go down to the river. It’s been a while since we’ve played any river games anyhow.”

“Oh, that sounds amazing.” You imagined splashing in the water, your whole body cooling off from diving down and swimming. You would have a breath holding contest with Qian, Devin, and Darragh.

Last time Qian had won, but you had been practicing. Maybe everyone would participate in the game Marco Polo you had introduced to them. They had loved it previously, a little too much.

Bjarki had gotten a bit too invested in the game and gave one of the smaller boys, Andres, a black eye and knocked out his tooth while trying to catch him. The scuffle had turned to a full out war which led to three boys getting concussions and almost drowning underwater.

No lasting harm had been done as they had been rescued and resuscitated. The group could also play sharks and squids which was similar to the game of sharks and mermaids you used to play at the pool, but with more violence.

Pan interrupted your thoughts by mumbling, “I wish we were able to eat mistletoe. It looks delicious.” You followed his gaze upwards and saw the plant dangling from a branch above you both. All drowsiness and lethargy disappeared from your mind as you hurled yourself off the log, tumbled to the ground, and scrambled farther away from the red berries.

Peter was surprised by your actions. He glanced at the plant again to see if anything was wrong with it to have caused such a reaction. Nothing was. It seemed to be a regular old mistletoe. He said with slight amusement coloring his voice, “You seem more terrified of that plant than the dreamshade.”

“And for good reason!” You blurted out. You were confused by Pan’s words. Wasn’t it obvious why you wouldn’t want to be caught under a mistletoe with him? It then occurred to you that, of course, he wouldn’t be aware of the implications and traditions from your world.

He wasn’t from it, so why should he? You breathed a sigh of relief and stood up, dusting yourself off. You laughed, “My mistake, Pan. The heat must be getting to me. I’m not acting like myself.” You grabbed two baskets and began dragging them away.

“Well, I think we have enough provisions. I’ll get these and see you back at camp.” Thankfully, Pan allowed you to leave. You didn't know whether your face burned from embarrassment or from the sweltering temperature. Instinct made you leap from him, but to be honest, kissing Pan might not have been the worst scenario to find yourself in.

You doubted that would happen even if you did explain the custom to him. Doubtless, he would think you were making it up in a poor flirting attempt and mock you. It was better for him to think you batty for a fear of a mistletoe plant or going delirious in the stifling atmosphere.

Peter plucked the plant from its place off the branch and inspected it. He had thought perhaps there had been an enormous beetle or arachnid in its leaves. Just as he thought, there was nothing outright alarming about the humble flora.

Heat had not been an issue for you before, so why would it be now? No, Pan was quite sure your peculiar behavior was because of the mistletoe. The question was what exactly. It seemed like some tests were needed to find out. Was it the whole thing or only parts of it that scared you? Peter Pan was determined to find out.

A day later, the sun was setting in the west, bathing the clear sky in a multitude of blazing colors. An array of pinks and purples washed over the blue and tinged the horizon edges with orange. The Lost Boys were chattering and laughing as they prepared their crude makeshift beds for tonight. A few tents were pitched up.

There weren’t enough to go around for all the boys due to an unfortunate mishap regarding a not-properly-put-out-fire and high winds, meaning the boys had to take turns in sleeping in them. Luckily for Pan, tonight was your turn to sleep directly underneath the stars. He watched from a good distance as you made your pallet ready.

You managed to take another blanket from an older boy and gave it to a younger one who had been complaining about being cold. You went to fluff up your flat pillow when you spotted the small gift Pan had left on the mat. Teleporting closer, Pan lurked in the nearby bushes to witness firsthand your reaction.

He saw you bend down and pick up the bunch of mistletoe berries he left scattered there. You brought them to eye level and stared at them hard as if unsure what they were. Recognition flashed in your eyes and Peter noticed with delight your head swivel this way and that, looking for the person who did this.

Well, that got an interesting reaction out of you. However, to his disappointment, you tossed the red berries into the fire and went off to bed. He was hoping for a bigger outburst from you. He had even speculated you might try to switch sleeping pads with someone else from fear that more berries would appear.

But no, you had been quite commonsensical. On the other hand, there had been that little panicked moment when you realized what the unwanted gift was. Intrigued by your reaction, Pan decided more testing was needed.

The temperature had cooled down considerably the following morning when Peter sent you on a ‘special’ mission. He assigned you the task to find a particular carrot which could force whoever ate it to dance an entire day and night.

The root was on Neverland’s southern side and grew in the rocky area between the forest and the beach. He told you it was identifiable by its bright, sparkly pink leaves. This was complete balderdash needless to say; Pan only wanted you in that region because he had a certain surprise in store.

He tracked your location and became more excited as you approached the destination. Hiding behind a large boulder, Pan spied as you trudged out of the forest and came into view. Your expression morphed into one of great confusion.

Spread out for what looked like the whole beach were leaves. You stepped onto the green mass and grabbed a leaf, tracing its spiky edges. You let it fall to the ground, placed your hands on your hips, and gazed upwards. As far as he could tell, you were very bewildered at the strange situation.

Pan waited with eagerness for you to throw a fit of some sorts or at least run away from the mistletoe leaves. Again, to his disappointment and ever-growing bafflement, you did not. Instead, you plodded along, kicking your feet through the leaves. Evidently, you were still on your quest to get the imaginary root. Pan cursed.

How thick-headed could you be? Did you not see that it was a trick? Pan left. He would let you waste all morning, afternoon, and evening searching for the stupid carrot. It served you right for being such an enigma; worrying about mistletoe one day and not caring about it the next.

Pan sulked. He sat on a log on the camp’s outskirts, fiddling with a crown made of mistletoe in his hands. This was preposterous. Why should he care whether or not you were afraid of the parasitic plant? In an instant, he answered himself: because it would be funny if you had a mistletoe phobia. What was different regarding the circumstances? It couldn’t be the presence of people.

He was there the first time and the Lost Boys had been there the second time, but you had thought you were alone in the last instance. Your first reaction was big while the other two weren’t. Peter held up the leafy crown to study it.

Should he try to recreate the situation to see if the same thing happened? He was so deep in his pondering that he didn’t notice when a Lost Boy came up to him until the youngster spoke.

“Hiya, Pan. Me and some boys made another tent outta the animal hide and we’re wonderin’ if–” He stopped and gawked at the plant his master was holding. “Say, ya got yourself some mistletoe! Neato! Ya gunna use it tah kiss some mermaids? Sure as heck wouldn’t mind smoochin’ those setta fish lips! Ya should–”

Seizing on the peculiar words, Pan leaped to his feet and clutched the boy's shoulders. “What do you mean by ‘use it to kiss some mermaids’?” Did this flora have a secret magical ability he was unaware of? Could this have any connection to your dislike of it? Would it have anything to do with why you flung yourself away from it and threw the berries in the fire?

The scared boy gasped, “If t-two people are under a mistlet-toe, they have tah kiss. It’s tra–tradition.” Pan released the boy. It all made sense now! Patting the boy on the back, he set off to one of his tree houses on the island. He had much to plan and prepare!

You plopped down at the Lost boys’ campsite. Your bones ached and hunger gnawed at your insides. All day was squandered looking for that carrot. You foraged high and low for that thing and had nothing to show for it, not even a sparkly, pink leaf.

You were beginning to wonder whether it existed or if the expedition was a mean joke played for fun. If that was the case, then it wasn’t a very good joke.

If it was real, you would be in hot water with Peter Pan for not finding it. Why would he want a carrot that made you dance? Your tiring questions were forgotten when Felix marched to the spot where you were sitting.

As usual, he spared no time on pleasantries. No, how are you? Do you want some food? Where have you been? To your annoyance, he stated, “Pan wants to see you at trumpet vine tree house.”

You huffed in displeasure, “Why?”

“I don’t know why. He wants you there now.” Felix gave you a stern look which clearly said, If you don’t get up of your own accord, I will drag you there myself.

You groaned. Pan’s word was law. Any protest against his commands would not end pretty for you. You complied with the order and made your way to the trumpet vine treehouse. The place got its name from the vines curling along its trunk and branches, beautiful reddish-yellow flowers bloomed to add a lovely fragrance in the air.

It was about a fifteen-minute walk away. Why did Pan want to see you and in a private setting to boot? Did he want the enchanted carrot? How angry would he get when he found out you didn’t retrieve it?

Should you pretend to have eaten it and dance for twenty-four hours. No, that was a dumb idea. Oh well, you would just have to tell the truth. You arrived and began to climb up the rope ladder.

You poked your head through the opening in the floor and your jaw dropped. On the ceiling, hanging above you, were dozens of mistletoe plants. What the hell was going on with mistletoe! Two days ago, had been the starting incident, then it was the berries on your pillow, then a whole beach full of them!

You didn’t notice Pan was in the room before he spoke, “Something the matter?” You had difficulty in forming a sentence. He pulled you up the rest of the way into the treehouse. He looked pleased with himself and rather smug. “Surely you’re not afraid of a little mistletoe, are you?”

“No, no, no! It’s– it’s fine. I wasn’t expecting it though. Nothing to be afraid of with mistletoe after all.” You prayed he wouldn’t be able to detect your lies.

He held onto your wrists and pulled you closer. “Oh? So, you’re not scared of anything we might have to do underneath it?”

“You know…” You admitted, defeated. “How did you find out?”

He smiled in a self-satisfied fashion. “I have my ways. It took a little bit of careful observing, a couple of tests, and a sprinkle of luck. But it was well worth it. Although it is an odd custom to be sure. What other eccentric traditions did you have back in the Land Without Magic?” He stroked your cheek with his thumb which trailed down your neck. His other hand grasped your waist.

Your attempt to answer was blocked by another query. He quirked an eyebrow up and leaned in further to ask, “Don’t you think that for all the grueling work I put in to understand your old world’s ceremonies and rules that I should be rewarded for my effort?”

Hmm, he did have a point. Giving him a small prize for all the work he endured couldn’t be that bad. Grinning, you performed the exact act that you had avoided doing not forty-eight hours prior. The kiss was sweet and simple and you pulled back three seconds later.

“I would have preferred a kiss on the forehead, but that wasn’t too bad either.” He chuckled at your shocked and hurt face. “That was a mere jest, love. The kiss was near perfect. Much too short of my liking however.” He took a step to the right, bringing you with him. “That’s fine because we are under a different mistletoe and have plenty more to practice under.”

He was right as he always was. Evening faded into night and you and Peter were still in the treehouse practicing.

#peter pan ouat imagines #peter pan x reader #peter pan ouat #x reader #once upon a time imagine #cross posted on ao3

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