Cheaters Never Win

Welcome to darksapphire29's blog!! I've been inactive for a while (and still am ig) but feel free to look around!!! tellonym.me/hike2live

[darksapphire29]

Imagine #2

You’re on your period, and Peter freaks out when he sees your blood. You have to explain what it is.

Warnings: The reader is on their period, and it gets messy, so if this makes anyone uncomfortable, please don’t read. More stressed Peter. Pan is also really confused. I'm pretty sure some of this is a little cringy, so, yeah... Enjoy!!

You rolled over in bed. Opening your eyes, light filtered through the flap used as a door. Your sight was fuzzy from sleep. A deep throbbing surged around your abdomen. You groaned, reaching down to grasp at your stomach. Your fingers touched something wet, and your eyes widened. You shot up, scrambling out of bed with a groan. Right where you had laid, a large spot on the sheets was coated in red. Your trousers were soaked through, and you felt some of your blood trailing down your leg.

“Holy crap!” You wheezed, ripping the sheets off the bed. Somehow, the mattress beneath was fine. You thanked your lucky stars. You rushed to the chest sitting by the foot of your bed. You flung the lid open, throwing your clothes around. Your head spun. This had never happened before. You were always prepared. How could you have forgotten? 

You never talked to Peter nor any of the Lost Boys about your period. You were terrified to tell them, mostly because it would be really awkward. But also, you didn’t want Peter to be disgusted by you. The two of you had grown close, and you had been his girlfriend for almost two years. If you mentioned it, he might be grossed out by you, and you couldn’t bare to see him look at you like that. 

You changed your clothes and made sure to wear a pad, and then you had a Panadol. Neverland was a magical place. All you had to do was wish for what you needed, and (most of the time) you would get it. 

You picked up the bloodstained items, and crept up to the flap. Peaking through, you watched Felix working away with Adam and Devin, the latter seeming particularly annoyed with something. Peter was standing by the tree line, hands on his hips with his back to you as he yelled at someone. 

Before anyone could see you, you dashed from your tent and into the forest. You followed the path to the river. Your footsteps never slowing. Then, you heard a second pair chasing you. Your heart jolted and you picked up the pace, clenching your clothes and sheets close to your body. The footsteps became louder and closer together. Suddenly, hands grabbed onto your shoulders. You yelped as they pulled you backwards. They spun you around, and you were met with a red-faced Peter. 

“And where are you going, then?” He demanded, hand still resting on your shoulder. You shrugged out of his hold, eyes wide as saucepans. What could you say? Don’t worry, Peter. I’m only cleaning up my own blood. And of course Peter noticed you leave.

“I-I...” As discreet as you could, you held your things closer to your chest. “I was going to wash my clothing... and bathe.” 

Peter stared hard at your face, eyes flickering between yours. Then, he rose a brow and snatched your clothes away. “Wait!” You reached for them, but he only laughed.

“What’s the matter, love?” He smirked, but only moments later, it fell. His gaze snapped down to the cloth. His brows furrowed lower than you thought they could. He jumped backwards, dropping your clothes like they had the plague. He looked back up at you. His eyes were black. Then, he seemed to snap out of it, and he was in front of you again in seconds.

“WHAT HAPPENED?!” You flinched. His yell caught you off guard. “Did someone hurt you? I swear, when I find them, they’ll wish they’d never been born!” He checked you over for any injuries or traces of blood. His hands brushed roughly over your stomach and you winced. He glared at you, but when he found nothing but skin, his eyes narrowed and he stared at you in confusion. 

Tears brimmed in your eyes. He was going to be so disturbed and you knew it. All the boys back in Storybrooke were, some even told you so. You weren’t prepared for it. Peter’s eyes softened when he noticed your tears, and he stepped forward, bringing you into a hug. 

“Love, talk to me. I don’t understand. Is--” He pulled away from you, his jade eyes boring into your (e/c) ones. He gestured behind him. “Is that blood yours?” You took a deep breath. This was it, (Y/n). Get it over with. 

You nodded. “Yes, Peter.” Just like that he was furious again.

“What the hell, (Y/N)! Why didn’t you say anything?! Where is it?!” He went to lift your shirt, not even caring about respect anymore, but you grabbed his hands. He backed off. “(Y/n), I can’t help you if you don’t let me!” The panic in his eyes startled you. He really thought you were injured?

“Peter, I’m not hurt.” His face looked almost angry, but curious. 

“But you said--”

“Let me finish, Peter!” You snapped. You so weren’t in the mood for this. “Gosh, this is so awkward.” You muttered. “I’m on my period.” A faint blush tinted your cheeks, and you covered your face with your other hand. You expected him to just walk away, make fun of you maybe. But instead, he tilted his head and asked a question.

“Period?” Your hand fell from your face. He wasn’t disgusted, or uncomfortable. Just confused. 

“You know... my time of the month? When I bleed from down there.” You waved your hand over your abdomen, your face ten times redder. But Peter only frowned. Seriously, world? Wasn’t it awkward enough? Now you had to explain to the infamous Peter Pan why your vagina was bleeding? “You really have no idea?” He shook his head slowly, and you sighed. “Alright, fine. Sit down, this is gonna take a while.” 

The two of you seated yourselves on the grass, your garments forgotten, and you began to explain female anatomy. He took everything you said really seriously, never interrupting you. He didn’t even make any snide remarks. It was strange; he was giving you his full attention. When you finished, he just nodded, letting it all sink in. The silence killed you.

“So... any questions?” 

“Does it hurt?” His tone was sincere and his eyes gentle. What you told him now would affect the way he and everyone acted around you for the next eternity. 

“Sometimes. On the second and third days, when I wake up, it feels like someone’s punching me in the gut. But other than that, it’s just a dull throbbing or hardly there at all.” He just nodded again. 

“You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were dying!” He shoved you over. You landed on your elbow, leaves and dirt sticking to your skin. You huffed. “I’m not disgusted, by the way.” He said while you brushed off the dirt. “You’re still my beautiful Lost Girl.” You blushed.

Peter stood and offered his hand. You laughed, slapping his hand and standing up yourself. “No, you don’t get to read my mind!” He grinned. “Hang on! If you read my mind, why’d you make me explain everything?”

“You were so embarrassed. It was amusing.” He chuckled. Your jaw dropped, and you threw your clothes at him.

“Thanks for the souvenir!” He laughed, running off with them to the river. You chased after him.

“PAN, YOU RAT!”

[acreaturecalledgreed]

sorta related but i dont like that tumblr has made “unhealthy relationship” mean “one person is an abuser and the other is a victim”

unhealthy relationship means just that. a relationship that is unhealthy. whether because a party is uninterested, both parties bring out the worst in eachother, theres just no more spark, etc

just stop using “unhealthy relationship” as if its perfectly synonymous with “abusive relationship”

abusive relationships are DEFINITELY unhealthy relationships but not all unhealthy relationships are abusive, ya dig?

[carnotaurus-sassytrei]

Important post.

Not everyone you don’t get along with is an abuser.

[darksapphire29]

Hear! Hear!

[strangerthingsedits]

Stranger Things 4 Eleven, are you listening?

[darksapphire29]

JUMPING IN MY SKIN I CANNOT WAIT

[babyanimalgifs]

I personally came for pets 

(Source)

[darksapphire29]

I want oneee

[whitepeopletwitter]

[darksapphire29]

why is this so relatable?

[leoreturns-deactivated20110811]

I have been waiting all year to post this.

[tumboner]

omg

[merspers]

This has been in my queue for months.

[mcgooglykins]

I missed it last year and I vowed that would NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN.

[thatsoundsprettynice]

YES

[xbstnmnr-deactivated20241116]

omg i didnt reblog this last year!

[darksapphire29]

It can't be too late!! Not again!! I refuse to wait another 12 months!

[lady-blacksleeves]

*me at 3am*

my brain:

Don’t do it

Don’t do it

Don’t do it

Don’t do it

Don’t do it

Don’t do it

Don’t do it

Don’t do it

Don’t do it

Don’t do it

Me: *read fanfics

[darksapphire29]

Geeez don't expose me like that... is this why I have ugly bags under ma eyes?

[thegunlady]

bird twitter is lighting up

[darksapphire29]

And it all leads back to Ned.

[whitepeopletwitter]

[metamorphesque]

Anaïs Nin

Franz Kafka

W. Somerset Maugham

Charles Baudelaire

Albert Camus

Allen Ginsberg

Ernest Hemingway

Rainer Maria Rilke

Charles Bukowski

Franz Kafka

[apocalyptic-cake-deactivated202]

Listen up!

You see a post like this? Where OP might hurt/kill themselves? You hit that button that I circled

Hit that.

Click Suicide or Self-harm Concern

Yes.

Fill in the rest of it, and hit submit. The "content you reported" will fill itself in

Tumblr will follow up and help them.

Warning: this is only for mobile. If anyone knows how to do this for desktop, please add it!

This could SAVE SOMEONE'S LIFE.

YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE NOT TO REBLOG THIS.

I DON'T GIVE A FUCK IF IT DOESN'T GO WITH YOUR BLOG'S THEME.

And yes, REBLOG. Liking does no shit at all. This isn't ig.

You reblog, people see it. You don't, people don't see it. This shit's that simple.

This could save someone's life. It's not a joke.

[darksapphire29]

Imagine #6

You give Peter the silent treatment while you try to accept the newly discovered truth.

Warnings: silent treatment, mentions of death, stressed Peter (ya know, this is just a recurring theme that can probably be expected in most (if not ALL) my imagines), tiny OOC Pan (but I don’t think it’s that OOC), crying?? Umm... trigger warning for ppl who are still recovering from season 3 and/or season 5?? (I AM)

Peter was scolding Adam for something when you first left your tent.

“You idiot. You never pick dreamshade without gloves. Do you have a d-death...?” He stuttered a little, losing his trail of thought at the sight of you. You looked awful.

Your skin was pale, your eyes lined with a darkness that hinted at a lack of sleep. You stumbled a little as you wandered off into the forest to gather some fruit for breakfast. You didn’t even look at him as you passed, and his stomach dropped.

All but forgetting his annoyance, he walked briskly after you. You weren’t even following any of the trails. He passed the huts and ignored the confused look Felix sent his way. All he could think about was what was wrong with you. Were you ill? Hurt? Did something happen last night? Yesterday? He didn’t know, and was determined to find out.

When he caught sight of your cloak, he ran right up to you. He grabbed your shoulder, and you stopped. You didn’t turn to look at him.

“(Y/n),” he started, walking around your body with a hesitance that caught you off guard. You had honestly expected him to be mad. When he stood in front of you, his eyes filled with concern, you found you couldn’t look at him another second, so you turned your head away from him.

Peter furrowed his brows. You were never the shy type, always standing up for yourself and speaking out against him. It was one of the both impressive and frustrating traits he loved about you.

“Why aren’t you following the trail?” He searched your face, trying to read your eyes. But just as he was about to catch them, you looked away from him. Somehow, the boring new shades of moss by his feet were more interesting than Peter. It was too peculiar for him to leave alone.

“Is something wrong?” He asked again. The (tall/short) girl before him said nothing, all too lost in her thoughts. Was this a game to him? Or did he seriously have no idea? The most obvious answer was that he was mocking you. That he found your anger towards him amusing and silly. But you wouldn’t retaliate. That was what he wanted. Instead, you walked right past him and continued on your way.

Peter felt as if you had dug out his heart and jumped on it. Twice. His confident stance faltered as he watched your back. You were acting so… different. But then again, it was unnervingly familiar. Only, the last time you had acted so demeaned by his presence was almost a hundred winters ago. When his shadow first brought you to Neverland, and you were still jumpy and untrusting from your past life. Why were you suddenly reverting back to your old self?

When you began to fade into the forest, he chased after you. Peter followed you for a while, calling your name and demanding you talk to him.

You didn’t answer his questions, completely disregarding his presence. You wished he would just leave you alone. After everything you had learnt, all the secrets that had been laid before you, you needed to be alone. You needed time to think. And you especially needed Peter to go away. But no, Peter Pan never fails, and he was more than ready to win this game. Only it wasn’t a game, and if he wanted it to be, you weren’t intending to play.

Annoyance clouded Peter’s mind, and he tried so hard not to let you anger him. So hard. But it wasn’t getting any easier.

“(Y/n), come on!” He tried, throwing up his arm and following you deep into the forest. “Where are you even going?” Luckily for the both of you, he was Peter Pan, not some Lost Boy. Because if he wasn’t literally half demon, neither of you would be able to get back.

You really didn’t know where you were going. But all that mattered right then was the distance between you and the boy who’d broken your trust. Although, deep down, you were grateful he had followed you. Otherwise, you would be completely lost.

You didn’t know how to forgive him, and by the sound of it, Peter hadn’t even realised what he’d done. You chuckled. What a narcissist. Of course, he hadn’t thought it would offend you. But you couldn’t approach him about it, or anyone, really. What a girlish thing it was, to be so hurt by such a thing. Secrets like this one were more damaging than any poison or sword. But how could he have known? This was a grown-up sort of thing, and Peter was still only a child.

“(Y/n)!” He shouted again, and you jumped, having forgotten he was even there. “I can literally feel the rage in my blood.” He threatened, but you were unfazed. Nothing could hurt more than—

“Please, don’t make me force you!” His voice cracked a little on the please. Your heart clenched. He was trying to hide his desperation, but you could sense it. You wanted so much to just turn around, hug him, tell him it wasn’t his fault.

But that would be a lie. Because it was his fault. It was entirely his fault. He should have shared all those damned thoughts with you. If only he’d opened his stupid mouth, confessed, revealed everything. Instead, he’d left you to stumble blindly in the dark. But the idiot forgot to take the oil away from the lamp, and now that you’d shed some light on your life, things would never be the same. And it was this senselessness that kept you away from him. Like two magnets of the same pole—it was all Peter’s doing.

But the most disturbing truth? Your very soul threatened to shatter at the very thought. How could he have kept such a thing from you? How could he have been so careless? You tripped on a few sticks and roots as your blood threatened to boil over with rage. Had he even spared your feelings a thought? You shook your head and quickened your pace.

Peter watched you stumble along, your hands clenching and unclenching like you didn’t want him to know they were shaking. He was near you, now, and he reached out for you again. Wanting so badly to touch you again, even for a second. But then you took longer strides, taking him off guard, and his fingers missed you completely. He growled in frustration. He’d had enough.

“Fine.” His tone darkened. Chills ran down your spine, you skin crawling with goosebumps. He had never spoken to you like that before, and it scared you to no end. “But don’t say I didn’t give you a chance!” With that, he appeared right before you, and you collided with his chest. You leapt back almost immediately, like fire to your skin. Meeting his eyes for a second, you found a hint of pain behind them. But it was replaced with frustration before you could blink.

“Why are you ignoring me?” He was so lost. So hurt. You wouldn’t even look him in the eye long enough for him to see the (e/c) in them. That beautiful (e/c) he would so often lose himself in.

Quickly, he reached for your shoulders. His hands rested there, his grip gentle but firm, not wanting you to leave him behind, again. You still didn’t speak. He missed your voice, your laugh, you eyes, your smile. It had probably been an hour, but that was already too long. He clenched his jaw.

“(Y/n), this isn’t a game. Talk to me.” As much as he didn’t want to, he was losing his patience. He spoke through gritted teeth, his hold on you tightening, his eyes set in a nasty glare. His hands were harsh on your skin, and your eyes glistened with an unholy fire. You didn’t move.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Breathing through his nose, veins popping out of his neck, he shook you. Hard. Your hair fell over your face, and your cloak would’ve fallen off if Peter wasn’t holding it there. Tears stung at your eyes as your body was thrown around, your shoulders aching.

“TALK TO ME!!” He screamed, fuming. You nearly broke down at his anger. He stopped, but you didn’t do anything. He had hoped you would yell, scream, cry, shove him off, kick him, slap him, run away, anything! You just shivered a little under his hands, but other than that, you held yourself together. His eyes reddened, almost like he might cry, himself. “Why won’t you just look at me, at LEAST?!” A part of him was begging, but the rest of him was infuriated.

In spite of yourself, you looked up at him. Your eyes were probably swollen, your skin whiter than usual, but you hardly cared. You glared at him so hard you might’ve set him aflame.

“Well then, Pan.” You croaked, a single, hot tear falling from your eye. “I’m looking at you. I’m talking to you. I’m even bloody crying. You’ve won. Now get the hell away from me.”

He stepped back, not meaning to look cocky. He was shocked. He had won, but that wasn’t important. The look on your face was important. That angry tear was important.

“I-I—” he stuttered. What could he do? You were obviously upset with him. But why? What had he done? For a short second, he thought hard about everything he could’ve done wrong.

Nothing came to mind.

“What did I do?” It was an innocent question, but when he finished, you were so pale he feared for your life. It came out so wrong. So demeaning. Ridiculing. It sounded exactly like him, and for once, he really didn’t mean for it to sound like that. 

Your usually bright and (e/c) eyes darkened a few shades. He winced.

This was not going to end well.

“What did you do?” You laughed. It wasn’t joyous and contagious like the one he obsessed over. It was maniacal, nearly psychotic. Like his laugh. “Oh, I wonder!”

“(Y/n), please—”

“Oh, no! You don’t get to speak. It’s my turn.” You spat, waving a hand in his face. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Peter was completely taken aback. Fear placed his confusion and he worried for his own sake. So much was happening, now. Who knew what you had discovered?

He had wanted to keep his plans to himself. Everything he was doing, everything he planned to accomplish, he knew you wouldn’t approve. Even to save your own life, his life, everyone’s lives, the whole of Neverland. You would insist on finding a better way until your final breath.

“Kidnapping people? Using some girl? Taking a kid from his family and keeping him against his will?” The colour was quickly returning to your face, but even when you tanned to your normal colour, you continued to redden with every breath. He tried to get a word in, tried to explain himself. But it was no use.

“I can’t believe you, Pan!” He winced again, that familiar pain building up in his chest once more. “What happened to you? Why are you doing this? You used to be fun. You used to really care about everyone.” Your face was wet with tears, tears that wouldn’t stop, and Peter wanted nothing more than to hold you.

He remembered those days. The days where he and the Lost would just play around and joke and tease. When nothing mattered but you and him and Neverland.

But then, he remembered the day he returned to Skull Rock. The day he was reminded of his incoming doom. He knew what was coming. He knew it had to be done.

“(Y/n), please listen to me.” He started, but you weren’t finished.

“But you wanna know why I’m upset?” Peter didn’t say anything, he didn’t even nod. You were suddenly calm, and it scared him more than your angered screams.

“You told Felix you were—” A broken sob hacked at your throat, and you collapsed into Peter’s chest. Pride be damned, you were sick of this. Sick of being angry and scared and alone. You needed Peter, and when he wrapped his arms around you, that was it. You were finished. Your eyes red. Yours cheeks soaked. Your hands shaking. Your hair in more of a mess than usual. Your lips quivering. And just like that, you broke down.

Peter pulled you closer, just holding you. He didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. You knew everything, and there was no way to assure you that everything would be okay. Because he didn’t know that. And as he held you to his chest, he let out a few tears himself. In minutes you were both huddled together on the ground, dirt and leaves sticking to your clothes. You clung to one another as you cried, his hands stroking your hair while you clutched onto his shirt.

Peter shushed and soothed you, stroking your hair as cries escaped his lips.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” he croaked out between sobs. You just nodded, clutching onto his tunic and gasping out that it didn’t matter. Peter kept apologising anyway, his hair tousled, his face puffy and stained with tears that you feared would never stop.

You sat like that for a long time, your sobs filling one another’s ears and more water leaked from your eyes than you knew you had in you. Because nothing was okay, and as you sat in the dim and cold light of the sun—lost in the middle of the Neverland woods—neither of you knew if it would ever be okay again.

[teknicolour]

What an appealing disguise

[storyofyouandrobbie]

Such a pleasant demise

[darksapphire29]

Imagine #5

Peter being afraid of needles.

Warnings: blood, needles, inaccurate description of wound-fixing (basically; don't copy how the reader fixes Peter cuz idk what I'm doing)

You pumped your legs harder, faster. Your heart pounded in your ears. Your limbs ached with every swift movement and you had a stitch in your side. Your pursuers followed with an energy you had left in the camp.

“This way!” Peter hollered from in front of you. He turned suddenly, your exhausted brain making you nearly ram into a tree. Luckily, Peter had slowed to grab your hand. He dragged you along through a thicker and darker part of the forest. After a minute, he pulled you around behind a tree. He pressed his back into the bark, his arms wrapped over your stomach as he clutched you to his body.

The two of you stood immensely still, huffing and puffing, sweat dripping down your back.

The pirates ran right past you.

The stupid men hurried off into the woods, and when their grumbles were out of earshot, you slackened against Peter. A relieved laugh bubbled up in your chest. Peter’s chest shook behind you. His angelic giggles filled your ears, and soon you were both trembling with mirth.

Not 10 minutes earlier, that codfish Hook had somehow found his way into camp. But it didn’t matter. You and Peter and the Lost Boys were prepared and hungry for a fight. Before you ran off to play tag, half of them were bleeding on the ground. It was grand fun. It still baffled you how they ever thought they could win.

“How many… did you get?” He gasped from behind you. You were still laughing, ignoring your ever-worsening stitch.

“E-Eleven.” You turned to face him, and he was grinning, his eyes sparkling with joy. It was a rare and beautiful sight. But then, he winced, and your laugh caught in your throat.

“You alright?” You took his hand, feeling familiar tingles from his skin on yours. It gave you butterflies, but something was wrong.

“Yes, I’ll… I’ll just walk it o—” He cut himself off, collapsing into you. You caught him, you hand touching something warm and wet on his side. He cried out.

“Peter! H-Hang on, we need to get you b-back…” You looked around quickly, trying to remember where you were. You had never been to this part of the forest before. You looked back down at Peter. The side of his shirt was soaked in his blood, and some of it dripped onto the leaves.

You lowered him onto the floor, peeling back his shirt to look at it. A long line of his skin was split open, blood leaking down the sides and staining his paling skin. It wasn’t too wide, but it was deep. You guessed he had been sliced by a sword. It was a clean cut. Easy enough to fix. But that didn’t make it easy to look at. Against your wishes, you started to tear up.

“Oh my gosh…” You whimpered, staring down at the red in shock. “A-Alright. L-Let me see if I h-have anything…” You searched your pockets. Normally, you would bring supplies for something like this. You were basically Neverland’s doctor. But you hadn’t, this time.

“Peter, I-I don’t have anything!” Your hands were shaking. Peter grabbed them.

“(Y/n), it’s okay…” He croaked. He closed his eyes, frowning a little. Suddenly, he was lying on a cot, and you were kneeling beside him in your healing chambers.

“Oh, Peter, thank you.” You scrambled to your feet and ran to the cupboard. Gathering ointments and disinfectant and stitches and bandages while Peter groaned in response. You placed everything on the table beside the bed, gathering some cloth and a bowl of warm water.

“Okay. This is gonna sting, so, on three?” Peter nodded; eyes squeezed shut. You breathed out slowly. “One…” Peter’s breathing sped up a little, and your chest tightened. “Two…” You got some scissors and cut open his shirt so you could get to the wound. “Three.”

You dabbed gently on and around his cut. You swiped away any dirt and washed the cloth in water a few times when it filled with blood and grime. All the while Peter squirmed and grunted and whimpered. It broke your heart to know you were causing him this pain.

"For Neverland's sake, Peter!" You grumbled, washing out the cloth for the third time. "Were you running even... even with this?"

How could the poor boy even move with such a wound, let alone run around in the forest?

Peter shrugged while lying down, which you weren't afraid to admit looked really weird.

"What could I say?" He smirked. "You were having such a good time, after all. It was fun... you don't smile like that often." You shook your head.

"For the record, Pan, you hardly smile at all." He laughed, but his eyes showed his pain. Both physical pain and emotional.

There was one speck of dirt that wouldn’t budge, you using the corner of the cloth to try and move it. Peter squeezing the mattress, you finally got it out.

When you finished cleaning, you rinsed off the cloth again. Your hands were a little red. You gagged at the sight. There was so much of Peter's blood; on your hands, in the bowl, on his shirt, on his skin, on the cot... it worried you. And it had to be fixed up before he lost any more.

“Peter.” He groaned again, opening his eyes to look at you. There were swollen and misty. “I’m going to need to stitch it together.” Peter’s eyes widened. He recoiled into the bed.

This was always the part you and every Lost Boy hated most. You just hoped Peter wouldn’t kill you; on purpose or accidental.

You’d had stitches before, and it sucked. The only difference here was, you were all out of poppy seeds, and Peter wasn’t about to fall asleep any time soon. Besides, he was the lightest sleeper on the whole of Neverland. So, you were going to give him a needle.

He seemed to read your mind, and you saw he was trying to prepare himself. You gathered your things, dabbing disinfectant around the wound. But when you brought out the needle, he was stiff as a board. “You okay?”

“Of course.” He said a little too quickly. You giggled.

“Are you afraid of needles?” He glared at you, trying to look intimidating. You waved the needle in his face. He flinched.

“Aw, Pan, it’s alright. (Y/n) will be gentle with the scary needle.” You teased.

“Just get it over with.” He growled. Your gaze softened.

“Really, Pete. It’ll be alright. Loads of people are afraid of needles.” You tried calming him down, the playful mood dissipating faster than it appeared. Peter scoffed.

“I am not afraid of needles.” You smiled softly. It was cute that the tough and intimidating Peter Pan was afraid of needles, but it was a pretty big needle. You weren’t about to mock his pride. Not again, anyway.

“Wanna hold my hand?” You held out your other hand for him to take. He looked away from you before he (somewhat begrudgingly) grabbed it. You smirked.

“Shut up.”

You positioned the needle over his skin, and he looked over into your eyes. His gaze steering clear of the small but sharp object.

“Ready?”

“No.” He grinned sheepishly, before it was replaced with a look of fear. He gulped, clutching your hand. Just before you pushed the needle through his skin, a vase nearby exploded. You and Peter jumped, a few shards of glass flying across the room. One of them nicked your cheek while another got your arm.

"(Y/n), I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" You shook a little, the needle still in your hand. You looked over to where the vase used to be, little pieces all over the table and ground. Some were even sticking out of the wall behind it.

Lucky for you, th vase was on the other side of the room. So aside from a scratch here and there, you were fine.

You looked back down at Peter. "Uh... yeah! Yeah, let's just finish this."

He didn’t move while you injected him. And to your relief, nothing exploded this time. He watched you with guilt in his eyes.

He fell asleep almost right away, and you went to work sewing him up. When it was done you washed the blood off his and your skin, taking off his shirt completely and putting him in a fresh one. Then, you sat in a chair with a book and waited for him to wake.

When he finally stirred, the first thing he searched for was you.

“(Y/n)?” You heard, and you put the book down.

He was looking around the room for you, eyes blinking slowly and his arms stretching above him. It was adorable.

“I’m here.” You smiled. His head turned slightly to the side, finding you. He smiled lazily.

“Come here.” You sat on the bed beside him, he not even bothering to sit up yet. Which was good, since it would ruin your human needlework. He grabbed you shirt and tried pulling you down. But he was still weak from sleep.

“Oh, stop it, Pan.” You giggled, taking his hands away. He just linked his fingers with yours. “Your still injured, and there isn’t enough room, anyway.”

Peter pouted. “You know you… want to.” He tried, but then yawned slightly. You laughed at his attempt to seduce you. He frowned.

“You’re tired. Get some rest.” You kissed his forehead, standing up to walk away. But his hand was still holding yours.

“I just was resting.” He argued, going to sit up. You quickly grabbed his shoulders.

“Don’t!” He stopped. “You’ll hurt yourself. Pop the stitches I was working on for hours.” He chuckled.

“My hero.” You ignored the sarcasm, forcing him to lie down.

“And as your hero, I am ordering you to go back to sleep.” He rolled his eyes, letting go of your hand and sighing (rather dramatically).

“Only if you stay with me.” You thought about it for a second, biting your lip. You weren’t a sound sleeper. What if you touched his stitches? Or took all the blanket? Or rolled on him? Or pushed him out of bed? Or—

“Just get in, (Y/n)!” He laughed at your thoughts, and you gave up. You climbed under the blankets next to him.

He went to roll on his side to face you, wanting to hold you. But then he winced and stopped himself. Instead, he put his arm under your neck and tucked you into his side. You laughed at the awkwardness of it all.

“Happy, now?” You giggled. He smirked at you.

“More than happy.”

***

“So, All-Powerful Pan… wanna talk about your fear of needles?”

“Shut up.”

You laughed.

[darksapphire29]

Imagine #4

You and Tommy are nearly kidnapped, you discover you are both Evos.

Notes: Yeah, I wasn't too sure how to describe this one. But basically, you and Tommy talk things over and it gets all fluffy until it ends in a kiss.

Warnings: Kidnapping attempt, angry reader, insecure Tommy, tiniest bit of violence (if you can call it that), long.

Tommy was simply walking you home from school, your hands intertwined, conversation flowing between the two of you. You were laughing about something Tommy said about your Maths teacher when it happened. Passing a black BMW, a man in black jumped from inside the car. He rushed at you both, and before either of you could react, Tommy was pinned to the ground.

"TOMMY!" You screamed, trying to pry the man off of your best friend. Another man came up behind you and grabbed your arms. You squirmed against him, jabbing your elbow into his ribs. But he was determined. Then, quicker than you could blink, Tommy was gone. He'd completely vanished with a distinct pop. You ceased your struggling, staring at the now empty space. Where had he gone?

"Tom?" You questioned no one in particular, completely taken aback. The strangers ignored you.

"He's gone off, again!" The other guy, still on the ground, complained. Gone off? What had he meant?

Was Tommy an Evo?

"At least we've got this one." The man behind you had a high and pitchy voice, like he was still going through puberty; still quite young.

"Why are you doing this?" You demanded, struggling some more. The men just laughed at you. The hands on your arms squeezed, hard, their nails digging into your flesh.

"Evos like you are... useful." He breathed in your ear, the air smelling of something rotten. You gagged, stomping down on his foot. Surprisingly, the man let go of you. He shoved you away, actually, you stumbling forward a few steps.

"Damned wench!" He spat; his eyes black with rage. You ran for it. Your eyes were wide with fear. But you didn't get too far. A smaller body appeared suddenly behind you; their chest pressed softly into your back. Strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist. You screamed, elbowing them and kicking their shin. The person made a strangled grunting noise, but—unlike the man in black—they refused to let go. Then, the world around you swirled slightly, and you froze. In just a second, the road and trees and street lamps collapsed in on themselves. The colours swirled around, forming shapes and objects that were too familiar. Just like that, you left the street.

And appeared in your room.

"What the hell?" They let you go, and you pushed away from them. You spun around, about to back-hand the stranger in the face. Your (e/c) eyes snapped up to meet a familiar pair of forest green ones. Your shoulders slumped in relief. It was just Tommy. But then, your body stiffened all over again. Your neck and back were aching from all the stress (you were gonna feel that tomorrow). "What the hell?!"

"(Y/n), calm dow—" You raised your hand, stopping him right there. He shut his mouth.

"I am not about to just "calm down", Thomas." A jolt of pain flashed in Tommy's eyes. He hated it when you used that name, so you only called him that when you were upset.

And, boy, were you upset.

"Those people—they tried to kidnap us. Kidnap me. Kidnap you. Do you have any idea how freaking scary that was?" You paced back and forth, avoiding Tommy's eyes as he tried to look into yours. You refused to even glance at him, knowing you would forgive him too quickly if you did.

"I had no damn clue what in hell was going on! Whatever crazy crap you've gotten yourself into—I just... I can't believe you—UGH!" You threw your arms above your head, slamming them back down on your hips with your back to the infuriating boy.

Tommy just stood there, having no idea what to do or say. You were so upset, so angry, and it was all his fault. He never wanted you to be so hurt like this, even if he had saved you before anything really happened.

"(Y/n/n), it's alright. They didn't get us, we got away. I—" Finally, you turned to him, and he cut himself off. Your eyes were red with hot, angry tears; you glared at him like he was some kind of monster. He had completely underestimated your fury, and his heart broke a little knowing it was him you were glaring at.

You stomped up to him, standing right in front of him, before you threw your hands up against his chest and shoved him backwards. He fell down on your bed, staring up at you in shock. His eyes glistened with tears.

"How dare you?!" You yelled down at him. "Don't you understand? It doesn't matter that we 'got away'. What if we didn't?!" Tears were flowing down your cheeks now. "How did you expect me to react? They could've killed us, Tom! A-And then you go and do that... that thing you did? Where'd you even go? I really thought you'd just left me there. Left me with those people."

You were panting and stuttering and crying. Your hands digging into your sides and likely bruising the skin there. Tommy's tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.

You stared at him with such pure rage. It was what Tommy feared. Was what filled his nightmares on those bad days. He had wanted to tell you everything, just open up to you and really let you in. Now that you finally knew what he was, even if it was only a fraction of the whole truth, you seemed to really hate him.

You continued to stare at his face, anger slowly seeping out of your mind. You realised you hadn't even been looking at him properly, only now finding the marks scattered up his arms. Your gaze immediately softened, and you sat beside him.

He shuffled away from you a little, and your heart ached. He must have hated you, now. You had basically just screamed in his face. Made out like you blamed him for everything. But, truly, you didn't. You were just... terrified, still. You sighed, taking his hand. He did nothing to make you let go.

You stared intently at one of the longer cuts near his elbow, the blood still oozing out. Slowly, his skin knitted itself together. Tommy looked down at it, his eyes widening.

"You're..." He didn't continue, only sitting back up to look in your eyes. You smiled.

"Yeah, I am." The two of you sat in silence. You just stared at his arm, continuing to heal his cuts and scratches and bruises.

"I'm sorry, Tom." You whispered, not looking up at him. "I was just so scared. I thought that maybe—maybe they knew about me. They were going to take me away again..." You trailed off, focusing on a bruise that shrunk in on itself, his skin paling until it returned to normal.

"And then, when you... vanished, I thought they would take me. That you left me behind, you didn't care." Another tear leaked out and you huffed, swiping it away.

Tommy wrapped you into a hug, holding you close. "And I'll never leave you like that again." He kissed your forehead. "That guy was just on top of me; I had to get out of there. But I should've been faster—"

"Hey." You stopped him again, something you'd done a lot that day. "It wasn't your fault."

The two of you just watched you fix him up for a while, relaxing with one another.

"Before... What did you mean by 'again'?" You met his eyes. You found empathy in them.

You nodded. "When I was... 11 or 12, maybe, these people showed up at my school. Took me away to this place. The teachers didn't stop them." You thought about it, for once willingly, and shivered at the memories.

"I remember walking down this grey hallway... these windows looking into different rooms with other kids in them. Sometimes they were just playing around, acting all normal. But then there were these white rooms with bright lights and hospital beds... And the crying."

Tommy listened intently, recalling his own similar experience.

"When I was, like, 7... I think those same people took me, too." He told you. Your brows furrowed in concern. 7? That was so young. How could they kidnap a little boy? Then again, how could they kidnap anyone?

"I don't remember hallways, or seeing other kids there. Just... a room full of toys, and there were no doors or windows."

It was still the same Tommy you'd known for almost two years. But there was something different about talking to him, now. Now that there were no—or almost no—secrets between the two of you. You felt you could talk to him about anything... anything but that one thing.

"What's it feel like?" You asked him, changing the subject. He furrowed his brows, narrowing his eyes in confusion. "I mean, when I heal these do they just... go away?"

"I don't know. It's like stretching the skin, then sorta like pins and needles, and then..." He struggled to describe it as you healed his last cut. "Then nothing, really. Have you ever healed yourself?"

"No, I tried, but I don't think I can. How's that for the worst power ever?" You admitted, laughing at the end. Tommy opened his mouth, as if to argue, but you beat him to it. "What about when you teleport things? Do they just go away?" He shrugged in response.

"Not exactly." He reached over to your bed-side table, picking up your drink bottle. He held it in his hand, then it shrunk in on itself, like the trees and street lamps had earlier. It disappeared, before reappearing in your lap with a series of pops.

You gasped, the object literally appearing put of nowhere. It felt like goosebumps on your skin, before the weight quickly and suddenly pressed down on you.

"It's amazing." You whispered, watching Tommy's lips tug into a smile. "For goodness sake, Tommy! Why didn't you just tell me?" You laughed, slapping his knee playfully.

Tommy could hardly believe it. He was so sure you hated Evos, hated him. You looked like you were about to kill him, earlier. But here you were, not ten minutes later, talking and laughing with him as if nothing had changed between you.

"I-I thought you'd hate me." He confessed, still staring at you in wonder.

"For being an Evo?" He nodded. "Why would I do that?" You asked, a silly smile plastered to your face. "Even if I wasn't evolved too... These powers don't define us. I would've loved you all the same."

A long a terrible silence followed, both of you processing what you'd said. Then, when your brain finally caught up with your lips, you jumped right off your bed. You tripped on your pyjamas, slipping over and falling. Then, that same strange noise sounding off in your room, you landed in a tangle of arms and legs.

Tommy was seated on the floor behind you, you sitting between his legs. He had one arm wrapped around your waist, and your back was pressed to his chest. Not you nor Tommy moved an inch, your eyes wide and your face flushed red. You felt his every breath, his torso heaving up and down behind you, his air blowing out across your cheeks. The sensation sent chills down your spine.

"I-I-I—uh, I, um... I was just—you were falling, and I..." Tommy stuttered, mouth struggling to form words before his brain even knew what to say. He hadn't even bothered to think before he teleported, mentally kicking himself for being such a love-sick idiot. He was supposed to land behind you and stop the fall, not join you on the floor. You, however, started to relax into him, a large part of you actually enjoying being this close to him. But you stopped yourself. Tom was your best friend, and best friends do not sit in each other's laps. Reluctantly, you took his hand away from your waist, and eased off of his body.

Now sitting in front of him, you spun around to face him. His face was white as a sheet, the only colour being his gorgeous green eyes. Gorgeous eyes? You shook the thought away.

"So..." You began, fiddling with your fingers.

"You said... you said you—that you love me?" His brows were furrowed; his eyes clouded with something you couldn't recognise. From his tone, it sounded like he was asking you something.

"Well, you know, you're my best friend." You tried to save yourself the awkwardness; the drama. He really was your best friend, and your stupid crush on him wasn't about to ruin that relationship. He was special to you... you couldn't lose him.

But the unfamiliar colour behind his eyes dispersed, a hint of pain replacing it, and somewhere in your heart you knew you'd said the wrong thing.

"Uh, yeah. You're my best friend, too." Ouch. He was so hesitant, too hesitant. He sat there; hands clutching his calves. His knuckles were a little pale. He was getting uncomfortable, again. Did he think you were friend-zoning him? Your throat constricted at that, and you almost choked. Was he doing that to you?

"But..." You trailed off. What could you say? Admit your feelings? Just like that? He stared at you intently, waiting for you to finish, a look of hope behind his small smile. "It's stupid, but... Since we're telling each other stuff... Sometimes... I wish we weren't just best friends." Your heart raced. Your final secret was out, all your cards on the table, and you wished the world would swallow you up. Or that Tommy would teleport one of you away. But then, slowly, a smile emerged on his face. Your heart jolted, having never seen anything quite like the look he was giving you, now.

He looked so... relieved.

"Really?" He asked, beaming. You nodded shyly. Tommy rose a brow. "Just sometimes?" He teased. You stuck your tongue out at him.

"Don't push it, Clark." You snapped, trying to glare at him, but your giggles made it difficult. The tension dispersed, and you'd never felt luckier to have someone like Tommy in your life. " But you have a point. I wish it every minute I'm with you."

"I wish it every second." He whispered. Your heart must have stopped. Was this a joke? Surely he didn't mean it. You looked deep into his eyes, his gazing back at you in admiration.

"You do?" He nodded softly, shuffling closer. You giggled again at him scooting towards you on the floor. He grinned back sheepishly. His knees touched yours, and a wave of chills washed over your legs.

You didn't know who moved first, but soon his hands were resting in your hips, yours placed on his knees. His face was so close you could see the brown flecks in his eyes contrasting against the green. You even found a few freckles on his nose and cheeks that you'd never seen before. "Can I kiss you."

You pressed your lips into his, eyes fluttering closed. He kissed back, his lips a little dry but gentle against yours. They danced together in sync. One of your hands combed through his brown locks, while Tommy traced up and down your sides with the tips of his fingers. Tickling you. You giggled into the kiss, and felt him smirk cheekily against you.

You must have kissed him for hours, neither of you wanting it to end. But, after about two minutes, you pulled away. The both of you were grinning like mad. Tommy pecked the corner of your smiling lips.

"Does this mean you'll be my girlfriend?" You rolled you eyes at his question, a look of blissful innocence crossing his handsome features.

"Of course, you idiot." Your face hurt from all the smiling and laughing, but even so, you grinned.

"I'm your idiot, now." You shook your head, laughing. "I love you, (Y/n)."

"I love you, Tommy."

He kissed you again.

[darksapphire29]

ROBBIE KAY: Hugs

I posted Imagine #3, and all day I've been in the mood for a Robbie hug.

So I thought, WHY not post a whole bunch of gifs of Robbie Kay hugging people, ya know??

*****

Viva La

Peter Pan

*****

*****

Viva La

Tommy Clark

*****

*****

Viva La

Robbie's Hugs

*****

[darksapphire29]

Imagine #3

Peter has a nightmare about you

Warnings: his dream is a tiny bit gory, yep there's more VERY STRESSED Peter bc we love that, and fluff? Probably a little OOC Pan (but it depends who you ask).

Notes: Honestly, I don't know how to feel about this one... Enjoy, lovelies!!

Your screams shook the sky. They shook Peter's very soul. He scrambled through the forest, pushing off trees and stumbling over roots.

"(Y/N)!! Where are you?!" He cried, his eyes blurry with tears. Everything was black, he could hardly see his shaking hands. No matter how hard he tried, his magic wouldn't work. What was worse? He couldn't find you. Your shrieks were full of fear, full of pain.

"Love, answer me!! Please!!" Suddenly, Peter was met with silence. The quiet shocked him to the bone. He tripped and fell, his arms slamming into the dirt.

"Peter?" Your voice was broken and came out a whimper. He jumped up from the ground, whirling around in search of his love. Of his happiness. Neverland was still coated in an inky blackness, but he still saw you. His heart jolted, and a part of him wished he was still looking for you.

You lay curled up in the soil, clutching your side as blood pooled around you. Your once beautiful (e/c) eyes were black. He could never believe it.

"(Y/N)!!" Peter rushed to your side. "No, no, please, NO!" He already felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks. Your gorgeous face was ghostly pale. Your skin was red with your blood, arms and neck peppered with cuts and bruises.

"Hang on, just... j-just stay with me!" He panicked, hands pressing to the gaping hole in your waist. He could see a fraction of bone, blood spewing out and staining his fingers. You weren't moving.

"(Y/n)?!" He could hardly speak, Peter's mouth opening and closing. He could hardly breathe. "Hey, w-wake up! Say something, love, you can't be- you- you can't-"

Peter was lying on his stomach when his eyes shot open. His blanket was twisted around his legs, his fingers clutching onto his pillow. He rolled on his back. He ran a hand down his face, wiping away the thick layer of sweat from his night terror. His heart caught in his throat.

"(Y/N)!!" He leapt from his bed, instantly falling to the ground as he wrestled with his sheets. Still scared to death, he made a beeline for your hut. He knew it was a dream, it had to have been a dream.

He slammed open your door, stumbling inside. But your bed was empty.

"No, no, no, no, no..." He muttered, repeating it non-stop as he ripped the blankets off your bed. He dropped to his knees, checking beneath it. When he found nothing but an old pair of pants, he wanted to scream.

"Peter?" You stood in your doorway, staring in confusion at the demon-boy. He was on all fours, head under your bed and your bedding tossed aside in his panic. He visibly jumped at your voice, head hitting the bed frame.

"(Y-Y/n)?" He asked into the air. He got to his feet, dusting himself off like he wasn't just about to cry. His hair was wild from sleep, night clothes disheveled and twisted.

"Why were you on my floor? It's... It's 3 in the morning." You questioned, yawning mid-sentence. Peter couldn't bring himself to glare at you. He was almost in shock. "I-I was just looking for-" his eyes searched the room frantically, before they landed on something on your bed-side table. He picked it up. "This."

"My hair brush?" You smirked, scrunching your brows. You then noticed the water glazing his eyes, and how his face and neck glistened with sweat. "Peter?" You asked again, your tone laced with concern. He rushed towards you, wrapping his arms around you and clutching you to his body.

You stroked his hair, shushing him and rubbing circles into his back. "Shh, it's alright." Peter just shook his head, burying it between your neck and shoulder. His arms held onto your waist even tighter, and he breathed in your scent. You frowned in worry. Peter was never this touchy before. "What's wrong?"

You pried him off you, your gaze stern. But then you saw his red eyes and pale lips, and your eyes softened. "Are you alright, Peter?" The boy continued to stare at you with his swollen eyes, and a bubble of worry grew in your stomach. You pulled him to your bed, the mattress still bare, and the two of you sat down.

He wrapped his arms around your frame again, this time more gently. You sighed.

"It's stupid..." He muttered. You disagreed, going to pull away, but he wouldn't let you.

"Tell me." You whispered. Peter sighed.

"I- you- we were in the forest..." he stuttered, breathing shakily into your hair. "It was dark. I couldn't find you." His voice was so broken, it made your heaet ache. You realised he'd had a nightmare, and in that moment, Peter was no king. He was just a boy who needed comfort, and you were more than happy to give him that.

You felt a tear land on your shoulder, and you pulled away to look into his eyes. He turned away when he realised you knew he was crying, and he roughly wiped at his eyes. "You- you were-" he couldn't finish, and this time you pulled him into your chest.

"Hey, I'm here. We're both here and we're fine." You cooed, running your fingers through his thick locks once more.

"W-when I woke up, I had to find you..." You felt him frown against your skin, and he pulled away slightly. He glared at you through his tears. "Where were you?!" He demanded, his sudden anger startling you. His eyes were wild, but you just smiled. He was trying to hide his weakness, his panic and fear, but you wouldn't let him. You leaned on his shoulder.

"I was thirsty." You answered simply. "I just went to the kitchen for a drink. I'm fine, Peter." He relaxed again, the darkness in his eyes dispersing, and you smiled. The two of you sat on your bed for a while, just enjoying the other's company, before Peter spoke up.

"Can I stay with you?" You nodded, reluctantly pulling away. You picked up your sheets, straightening up your bed, while Peter just laid down. You tucked him in with a laugh. He stuck his tongue out at you.

With a cheeky grin, Peter slipped an arm out from under the covers and slithered it around your waist. He pulled you into him once more, his hold more protective and desperate than before. But you let him, because he needed you.

You turned in his arms to look at him. You smirked. "Admit it. You came in here to cuddle."

Peter rose a brow. "Is that so?" You nodded, a fuzziness spreading in your stomach. "So what if I did?" You blushed at his smirk, his hands tracing shapes on your back.

The two of you just lay together, your heart pounding at his closeness. You could see every inch of his face, count the very few freckles on his face. Peter just looked at your face, memorising every line and every spot.

"You're so beautiful." He uttered. Your eyes snapped to his. Beautiful? Of all the things, that couldn't be how he saw you. But not a millimetre of his expression said otherwise. His gaze was soft, his eyes sparkling in admiration with a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

You didn't know what to do or say. You just stared at him in shock. Peter chuckled. "Close your mouth, love. You'll catch flies." You shut it quickly, rolling over to hide your tomato-red face.

"Night."

"Goodnight, love."