|MULTI FANDOM IMAGINES|

Peter Pan

Edited:

So I have decided to do a peter pan imagine because if you have been watching once upon a time, peter pan is coming back. Sooo this is in honor for him coming back❗️

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You and Peter had just finished playing one of your favourite games and had stopped for a while. You were both leaning against a rock wall of a cliff above, covered in moss and vines, flowers, too. Neverland was beautiful; the trees were tall, but the branches grew low and long, tangled with each other. Flowers grew in them, as well as on the ground. The jungle was evergreen and perfectly lit, quite dim but still bright enough that the colours of it were all but blinding.
Peter gave a small chuckle at what you'd said. "Oh, stop being so damn cute," he sad. You laughed, but inside you thought, what the hell? You two had been quite good friends for many years, and for the past few days Peter had been acting strange, like he was...flirting. You two did not express your fondness of each other with words, not ever. Most often when he said anything nice, you'd say: "Why should believe you?" and he'd laugh and say: "You shouldn't."
You two were not ones to talk, not getting into subjects too deep, anyway. You mostly just ran the island with him; hunting, fishing, teaching the boys, and of course playing games, his—and now yours, too—favourite thing.
"You're acting weird," you said, crossing your arms across your chest. "Is someone dying? Why are you being so nice?" You also weren't one to lie to Peter, or act like you didn't have something to say to him. You two were always honest with one another.
"No, no one is dying, although I might after what I'm about to say," he said, with nervous laugh when he stepped closer to you, very close to you. You did not back away in time, and heard what he whispered in your ear: "I'm flirting with you."
You felt an extremely strange feeling wash over you. It wasn't strange because it was unknown, because you knew exactly what this feeling was; the feeling one would get when they heard something they'd been waiting to hear for a long time. It was supposed to be a good feeling, but it didn't feel good at all, it was frightening. You felt nearly sick.
"What?" you were meant to sound angry, but the word came out small and weak. You cleared your throat. "Why?" this time your voice was more audible, and that sent Peter to make a rather amused expression after he'd backed away only a little.
"Because, oh, ugh," he'd started out calm, but then he seemed frustrated. "Don't you see? I'm in love with you!" he said, exclaiming, yet it came out gentle and soft.
You stared at him without so much as blinking. He raised an eyebrow.
"Are you completely oblivious?"
"Me, oblivious?" you said, and scoffed. "There's been nothing to see!" But there had been, for days. He'd been throwing around cute nicknames, being unnaturally polite and you generally strange.
"Did you even hear what I just said?" he asked. Oh, had you...That's why you were trying to turn it into something it wasn't, nor should it be; a fight. "I'm in love with you," he repeated, stressing every word, making sure you really understood what he was saying. Something twisted in your stomach, your breath got stuck in your throat and you were frozen. "Don't you try to change the subject."
You absolutely hated how well he knew you and how he saw right through you.
"Yes, I heard," you said, reluctantly, after pulling yourself out of the feeling you'd get when swimming in freezing cold water in February. You were looking down now, when you knew he was trying to regain eye contact.
"So why are you upset?"
You weren't upset, you were angry and confused. You thought he had no other intention than being friends with you, but obviously that was so very naive. And completely oblivious. Oh, how you hated boys, always wanting more, never being able to see past a girl's gender and what may lay under her clothes. You were—upset.
"I'm not," you said, refusing to admit it to Peter. "I just thought—" you actually felt embarrassed to finish that sentence, "—we were friends."
He chuckled, "Oh, how naive of you," he responded, shaking his head and you looked up at him, only to look away the split second his eyes met yours. And before you even saw a movement of his arm, his fingers lightly grazed your jaw. You flinched at the feeling. He'd never touched you that way before, gently, that was. He'd only ever touched you like he had the boys, roughly and playfully, definitely not like he just had. It was beyond strange having him touch you that way, for him to even look at you that way. But, on some level it felt so—no.
It felt as if the jungle had quieted down around you upon him saying those five words, like time had stopped entirely. It felt as if the whole world had stopped spinning, waiting for you to say what you were meant to now. But, the thing was, you didn't know if you felt the same way. You didn't want to leave him hanging, but you didn't want to lie either.
And as you finally had the courage to look up into his eyes, for the first time ever you were at a loss of words with Peter.