Various Imagines [ Requests Open ]

Bitter Heart || Requested

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Peter Pan

A lovely idea by @NeverlandBeliever again!

Quick A/N, don't play the song until you see the *

He loved the way she danced. The way her hips swayed upwards with the same curve of her smile. The way she spun around the campfire to the tune of the flute he blew into so effortlessly. But that was the only time he'd see her smile.

And he hated it.

He hated how she felt unloved and lost. Sure, most that reside on Neverland felt that way, but he hated that he couldn't take that feeling away. That he couldn't provide her with love and comfort and that he couldn't take her anywhere on his beloved island without her tears threatening to fall at least once. He loved her, but he hated her for it.

But this was a time when Peter Pan wasn't capable of hate.

So, those many years ago, he hand delivered her back to the windowsill. He placed her gently and he lay with her one final night as she cried and cried. She cried with happiness and she cried with sorrow that she had to leave the boy she had learned to love. When it had come time for him to slip away in the night, he couldn't even bring himself to leave her a single parting kiss, so he left an acorn to rest upon the end table.

He went back to Neverland and the boy cried and cried and cried. He wept that he would never find the same love, and that an empty place was left in his heart. He tried his best to fill it with the Lost boys. With spoiling them, playing games and going on adventures. But nothing pleased him without a girl to share his joy with.

*

That was, until years later he returned to that same windowsill. He had never brought himself to speak her name, to see her picture, or go anywhere near where she lived without him.

He reached that windowsill with such a hesitation that one might think it was laced with poison.

The window was open.

His heart skipped a beat as a boyish grin grew to his face. He approached with haste, hands grasping the edge and head poking up to peak at who or what may lay inside. Inside he saw a nursery, a beautifully crafted bed in one corner, and in the other, a reading chair. Nothing was more chilling, however, than the figure he saw resting in that chair.

Suddenly, she looked like a stranger. A face he knew, but he had tried so hard to forget. She was reading.

He lifted his body to get a view of the woman, her eyes crinkled and slight lines traced her face with signs of age. Her hair wasn't as soft, but her skin most certainly was.

It wasn't until he crept in that she noticed his arrival. He would've thought that she would have screamed, would have lost her mind to see some boy working his way into her nursery, but instead her eyes read his rapidly changing emotions.

"Hello Peter," her voice had matured as well. His heart fluttered when he heard her speak his name, nonetheless. The boy was awestruck.

"Y/N," he breathed her name for the first time in years. "You remember,"

She stared at him, stoic and trying so very hard to remain so. He took a moment to let his eyes wander the room. He saw a warm body sleeping soundly in the bed. A young girl, resembling her mother beautifully.

"You're a mother?" His face was full of joy, though he hated the thought of her with another man.

"I am," she answered, eyeing him. He took a start towards the bed, but she stopped him. "Don't go near her." He paused immediately and turned to face her once more.