Lost Boy.

The words lodged in Peter’s chest beneath the jealousy, the anger, and the last defenses of his pride. He stared at the fire he couldn’t control, its flames leaping and twisting with all the fury he refused to show. His reflection warped in the dark water, the face of a boy who had spent centuries pretending he needed nothing.

Felix’s hand remained on his arm, its warmth seeping through Peter’s sleeve. He wanted to tear himself free. He wanted to lean into it.

“You thought you couldn’t have me.” Peter’s voice came out rough, scraped thin. “That’s what you’re saying.”

He turned slowly, as though dragging himself against a current.

Felix stood too close for Peter to pretend he couldn’t read him. Shame and hope tangled in his blue eyes, forming something Peter still refused to name.

“You thought I’d never want you,” Peter continued. “So you went to him instead.”

It wasn’t a question. Felix’s face had already answered it.

The fire surged behind him, heat pressing against his back as his magic answered the storm inside him. Felix didn’t flinch or step away. He kept his hand on Peter’s arm and let himself be seen.

Peter unclenched his jaw only when it began to ache. He caught Felix’s wrist and pulled his hand away, but he didn’t release him. His fingers closed around the narrow bones, finding the steady pulse beneath Felix’s skin. He was here. Real. Within reach.

“Say it.” Peter tightened his fingers around Felix’s wrist. “Tell me what you did with him.”

Even Peter heard the cruelty in it. He needed Felix to put the truth into words before his imagination made it worse. Jealousy ate through him, sharpened by the knowledge that he had forfeited any right to it. He had done this. He had taught Felix, year after year, that wanting Peter would earn him nothing but scraps. Now the consequence stood before him with scarred cheeks and a hope Peter had nearly starved out of him.

Peter’s grip tightened on Felix’s wrist.

“Say it,” he repeated, quieter now. “Then we decide what this changes.”

Felix stood behind Peter, his hand resting on Peter’s arm, the silence between them thick with old loyalty and new dread. He had never truly defied Peter before, never pushed back, never withheld anything that was asked of him. But now, with the memory of that night with Rufio twisting inside him, he found himself hesitating. It was private, raw, and not a story he ever wanted to tell, especially to Peter. Not when Rufio was gone, lost to them both.

Peter didn’t turn around, but his hand shot back, fingers wrapping tight around Felix’s wrist in a grip that was dangerous, almost bruising.

Say it. Tell me what you did with him.

Felix’s breath caught, the fear and turmoil inside him rising like a tide. He wanted to pull away, to hide, but Peter’s hold on his wrist would not let him flee back into the safety of the shadows. “Peter, I—” Felix faltered, his voice unsteady. “I’ve never kept anything from you before. Never wanted to. But what happened with Rufio…” He swallowed hard, the words tangled with shame. “It wasn’t what you think. It was a mistake. I was lost, and I thought I’d never have you. It was just one night. It didn’t mean what you’re afraid it did.”

Peter’s grip tightened, silent and unyielding. Felix winced, but held his ground. “You want every detail?” Felix’s voice was hoarse, trembling. “I don’t know if I can give you that. Some things… they’re hard to say. Especially now, with Rufio gone. Talking about him like this, it feels wrong. Like picking at wounds that’ll never heal.”

He looked down at Peter’s hand on his wrist, then up, speaking to Peter’s back, his own eyes shining with fear and longing. “I’ll tell you what you want, if that’s what you need. Just, please, Peter. Don’t ask me to pretend it meant more than it did. Or that it was ever more than a mistake.”

Felix stood there, heart pounding, not sure if the truth would save him or shatter everything they had left.

#loyalty binds me ( reflection. )#q.

shade-barrow

lostintheneverwoods

Teddy groaned at Felix's smug attitude, making a face. "Sure, just watching me because Pan said to. There's totally no other reason," they said sarcastically, waving their hands mockingly. "You don't follow the other boys around like a second shadow. I didn't even do anything."

She decided then that she simply wouldn't look in his direction for the rest of the trip as to not encourage his behavior. They were getting closer to the deer anyway, the tracks looking fresher as they walked.

She slowed down, head swiveling, ears straining to listen for any signs of life besides Felix's annoying comments.

#lostintheneverwoods #v; loyal lion of neverland #kingoftheneverwoods

Felix, falling in beside her, let the teasing edge drop from his voice. "Maybe I follow you because you’re the only one who actually notices when I’m gone," he said quietly, just for her. "The others don’t give me half as much trouble, makes things dull." He shrugged, feigning indifference, but there was something honest in his gaze. "Besides, you’d get bored if you didn’t have me to complain about."

Felix grew quiet, his earlier cockiness melting into focus as the hunt took precedence. He crouched low beside Teddy, scanning the tangled brush with sharp eyes and signaling her to stop with a subtle wave. The air thickened with anticipation, even the jungle seemed to hush around them.

“There... see those?” Felix whispered, nodding toward a cluster of fresh hoofprints pressed into the damp earth. “It’s close.”

Felix’s limp faded as adrenaline took over. He gripped his club, muscles tight, eyes flicking between the tracks and the shifting light ahead. A shaft of sunlight broke through the canopy, illuminating a small clearing. Felix caught Teddy’s eye: a silent question... Ready?

The fire roared behind them, flames climbing higher than they should have, driven by something Peter couldn’t leash. Magic crackled along his fingertips, raw and uncontrolled. He stared at Felix’s hand gripping his, at the pale knuckles and the bloodless cast of Felix’s face in the firelight.

One night. Only once.

Peter’s jaw worked. Jealousy gnawed behind his ribs, alive and vicious. It was stupid. Worse, it was undeserved. He had spent centuries refusing to name what Felix was to him, keeping him at arm’s length and offering nothing but scraps of attention and cruel tests of loyalty. Of course Felix had looked elsewhere. Of course someone had stepped into the space Peter refused to fill.

That didn’t make it hurt less.

“You hated yourself,” Peter repeated. His voice came out too quiet, too even. “After.”

He pulled his hand free from Felix’s grip, and the sudden loss of contact left his skin cold. Peter turned toward the fire as the flames surged and twisted, throwing misshapen shadows across the ground. His reflection stared up from a pool of dark water at the base of the tree, pale, hollow-eyed, and too thin. A ghost wearing his face.

“Good.” The word escaped before he could stop it. He closed his eyes. “I’m glad you hated it.”

It was petty and cruel. He didn’t take it back.

He pressed his thumb against the pad of his index finger, feeling the magic crackle there, unstable and hungry. Neverland answered. Roots shifted beneath the soil, the trees leaned closer, and the air thickened with the taste of ozone and fear.

He hated how transparent he became whenever he stopped performing, how easily the island dragged into the open everything he had spent centuries refusing to name.

“Did he touch you the way I touch you?” The question escaped before Peter could stop it, low and dangerous. He kept his back to Felix. If he turned and saw the answer on Felix’s face, whatever composure he had left would shatter. “Did he put his hands on you and call you his?”

Peter clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. He had forfeited the right to be jealous centuries ago.

Peter stood with his back to Felix, shoulders tense and silent, his silhouette sharp against the firelight. The question lingered in the charged air, and Felix could hear the ache beneath the anger, the fear of being replaced.

For a moment, Felix hesitated, grief and longing warring inside him. Then he stepped forward, closing the distance with careful, quiet steps. He reached out, his hand trembling, and laid it gently on Peter’s shoulder. The touch was soft, uncertain, seeking permission to bridge the space between them.

“Peter,” Felix murmured, his voice low and true. He trailed his fingertips down Peter’s arm, resting his palm at the crook of Peter’s elbow. “It wasn’t like this. Not even close.”

He waited, hoping Peter would turn, but pressed on when he didn’t. “I tried to forget you. I thought if I let someone else close, maybe I could stop wanting what I couldn’t have. But it was empty. I was empty.”

Felix squeezed Peter’s arm, desperate for him to listen. “No one’s ever touched me the way you do. No one’s ever made me feel like I mattered… like I was real. Even now, with your back turned, it’s you. Only you.”

He leaned in, voice barely above a whisper behind Peter’s ear. “There’s no one else. There never was, not really. I need you to believe that.”

Peter's magic crackled at his fingertips, a defensive reaction he couldn't control. The fire he'd conjured flared, throwing shifting shadows across Felix's face. His scar looked like a crack through something precious.

His grip tightened on Felix's shirt without his noticing.

Rufio's name hung between them, no longer a ghost from the past but something living. Something dangerous.

His mind reached for every explanation except the obvious. He'd always known there was something between Felix and Rufio. A tension. A history. He had never asked.

Some truths were easier left buried.

Not anymore.

Felix didn't have to say a word. Peter knew him better than anyone. The answer was already written across his face.

Everything he'd spent centuries refusing to think was about to become true.

Peter released his grip on Felix’s shirt and took a step back.

“You slept with him.”

The words came out flat.

For the first time, Peter understood there had been pieces of Felix's life that had never belonged to him.

Jealousy twisted through Peter's gut, so unfamiliar it took him a heartbeat to recognize it. It felt ugly. Small. Beneath him. And still it refused to loosen its grip.

Behind them, the fire surged, flames climbing higher as the wind stirred the trees.

Felix’s heart slammed against his ribs. The urge to defend himself, to explain, to take it back, to somehow erase the truth, burned through him. “Peter, please—” he started, voice raw as he reached for Peter’s hand, desperate to keep the connection from slipping away. “It was one night. Only once. I thought you’d never look at me that way, not ever. I swear, if I’d known there was a chance... any chance... I never would have done it.”

He shook his head, eyes shining with shame and longing. “I was stupid. Lost. And I hated myself the moment it was over. You have to believe me, there’s never been anyone else, not really. Not the way there is with you.”

Felix's grip tightened, his knuckles pale with tension. He swallowed hard, his voice shaking as he spoke. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Peter. Everything I’ve ever waited for. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Just give me a chance to prove it, to show you that it was always you.” In Neverland, there was a saying that Lost Boys never apologized, but here he was, declaring his regret to all of Neverland.

Silence settled between them, thick and unsteady. Felix’s heart pounded with dread, but he refused to let go, refused to step back. If Peter was going to break him, it wouldn’t be because he didn’t fight for what they almost had.

lostintheneverwoods

Teddy turned and stuck their tongue out at him before continuing to walk. "Shut up, Felix. We're not even close to the deer yet." She continued ducking through the underbrush, making sure the tracks didn't disappear and that she didn't step on them accidentally.

"I don't even know why you came," she grumbled. She always tended to talk more to Felix, mainly because they found that complaining to him was incredibly entertaining. "Do you think I'm that bad at hunting that you must observe every time I attempt it?"

#lostintheneverwoods #v; loyal lion of neverland #( i'm beginning to like their dynamic )#( the wit is real with these two lol )

Felix ducked under a low branch, club slung over his shoulder, giving Teddy a dramatic gasp of mock offense. "Please, I only come along to make sure you don’t get lost, or to witness your inevitable surrender to my superior tracking skills. Besides, you make the best face when you miss." His eyes glinted with mischief as he nudged a fallen leaf off the trail with his boot, careful not to disturb the tracks.

He added, lowering his voice as they crept forward, "Anyway, if I left you alone, Pan would never let me hear the end of it. Some of us have responsibility, you know."

Teddy shot him a glare over her shoulder, but Felix’s grin only widened. The jungle pressed close around them, alive with the sharp tang of earth and the promise of game ahead.

Together.

Peter had never understood how to want anything that did not first become something he could control. Partnership felt foreign. Dangerous, even.

He pressed his forehead more firmly against Felix’s and breathed him in. His fingers tightened in Felix’s hair, anchoring himself. The night air felt too thin, the world too close. He could hear the distant noise of camp, but for once, he did not want to go back.

He wanted to stay exactly where he was, pressed against Felix in the shadows of his thinking tree.

He pulled back just enough to see Felix’s face. Moonlight caught the edge of his scar, turning it silver. Peter traced it with his thumb, feeling the familiar ridge beneath Felix’s skin.

“Rufio never got this close,” Peter said quietly. The name tasted like ash. “But I’m not him. I won’t—”

He couldn’t finish. The shape of the promise made his chest ache.

Instead, he kissed Felix again, slow and deliberate. When they broke apart, Peter’s hands framed Felix’s face, thumbs brushing the sharp edges of his cheekbones.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted. “I’ll get it wrong. I’ll hurt you.” His jaw tightened. “But I—”

The words caught in his throat. I love you. Three words that should have been simple. Three words Wendy had offered him like they cost nothing. From Peter’s mouth, they felt like giving away pieces of himself he had sworn to protect.

“I want to try,” he finished instead.

He felt Felix’s pulse beneath his palms, steady and strong. Proof that he was here. Real. Not another cruel hallucination conjured by the island.

Peter glanced toward his thinking tree. With a flick of his wrist, a tent and fire appeared beneath it.

“Stay tonight,” Peter said, his voice dropping lower. “Not as one of my boys. As…” He searched for the right word, one that wouldn’t shatter the moment. “As this. Whatever this is becoming.”

His heart hammered against his ribs, but for once, Peter didn’t run from the fear. He stayed.

At the mention of Rufio not getting this close, Felix stiffened, a flicker of something old and sharp running down his spine. Peter’s words were meant as reassurance, but they scraped against a memory Felix kept buried deep: a single night with Rufio, desperate and clumsy, born out of the certainty that he’d never have anything real with Peter. He’d let it happen because he thought it was the closest he’d ever get to being wanted, to touching something that mattered, even if just for a heartbeat.

But none of that compared to this. Not the moonlight, not the trembling hope thrumming between them, not the way Peter’s hand curled possessively at the back of his neck.

Felix let the words hang in the air, watching the way Peter’s expression shifted, uncertainty giving ground to something softer, almost fragile. The moonlight cast silvery magic across Peter’s face, deepening the hollows beneath his eyes and softening the sharp line of his jaw. For once, Peter Pan looked like a boy instead of a legend, and Felix felt something in his chest twist fiercely at the sight.

The next moment, Peter leaned in, and before Felix could summon any words at all, Peter’s lips pressed to his, soft, tentative, but sparking something wild beneath Felix’s skin. For a heartbeat, Felix was motionless, his mind blank with disbelief, then everything inside him rushed forward at once, relief, longing, and the ache of years spent wanting.

Stay the night. Don’t go. Not yet.

The words struck something tender inside Felix, a longing that had haunted him for years. To stay, to be wanted, was everything he’d ever dreamed of. He almost surrendered to it, let himself fall into the warmth and safety of Peter’s arms, just for tonight.

But guilt twisted in his gut, dark and insistent. The memory of Rufio, the night he’d tried to fill the emptiness Peter left behind, rose between them like a shadow. Felix’s breath hitched. He wanted to hold on, to pretend none of it mattered, but the choice gnawed at him.

“Peter,” Felix whispered, his voice tinged with something raw and uneasy. He hesitated, heart pounding, the urge to confess warring with the fear of losing everything he’d finally found. “There’s something I should tell you. Something I haven’t said. Before I stay. Before any of this goes further.”

He pulled back just enough to see Peter’s eyes, searching them for anger or disappointment, but finding only confusion and a flicker of concern. Felix forced the words out, each one heavier than the last. “It’s about Rufio. About… what really happened.”

His voice faltered, but he didn’t let himself look away. “You deserve the truth. Even if it changes everything.”

The thought of Peter turning away, of the fragile possibility between them shattering before it even had a chance, was enough to hollow him out. Felix had survived every kind of pain, but losing this before it had even truly begun? That would be the one wound he’d never recover from.

Peter felt Felix’s hands on his face, warm and rough and real, and something inside him split wide open.

He didn't deserve this. He knew it with the same certainty he knew every path through the island. Felix's palms cradled his jaw as though Peter were something precious, and Peter wanted to pull away because he knew what happened when people held broken things too tightly.

But he didn’t pull away.

He couldn’t.

“You're a fool,” Peter said. His voice came out thick and raw, stripped of the sharp edge he usually wore like a weapon. “You've always been a fool for me.”

His hands found Felix’s wrists, fingers wrapping around them to hold him there.

“You say I pulled you out of the dark.” Peter’s mouth twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I dragged you deeper into mine. You just refused to notice.”

Peter let his thumbs trace slow circles against the inside of Felix’s wrists. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted. The words tasted like rust. “I don’t know how to love something without destroying it.”

His grip on Felix’s wrists tightened.

“So you’ll have to teach me.” Peter’s breath ghosted against Felix’s lips. “Because I’m not letting go.”

He pressed his mouth to Felix's, softer than before, without the desperation that had driven them earlier. The kiss was a promise he had no right to make. He made it anyway. His fingers slid from Felix's wrists to his hands, threading through them until their palms met.

“Stay,” Peter said against Felix’s lips before kissing him again.

He couldn't stop shaking, even pressed against Felix. He didn't know how to say the rest.

Stay, because I don't know how to ask.

Stay, because if you leave, I'll come apart.

Stay, because I don't know who I am without you anymore.

For a moment, the world faded, no Lost Boys, no shadows, not even the fire crackling in the background. There was only the press of Peter’s lips against his, the sharp, aching certainty that this was not a dream. Felix’s heart hammered wildly, thrumming in his ears, and he let himself fall headlong into the kiss, desperate to memorize the taste of hope before it slipped away.

When they finally broke apart, Peter’s breath ghosted over Felix’s lips, his hand still rooted at the nape of Felix’s neck. Felix kept his eyes shut, savoring the dizzy warmth that lingered. He’d spent lifetimes longing for scraps of affection, believing himself unworthy of even this much, and now the reality of it was almost too much to bear.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, meeting Peter’s gaze, uncertain, but open in a way Felix had rarely seen. “You always act like you’re untouchable,” He hesitated, thumb brushing over Peter’s wrist. “And don’t look at me like I’m innocent, either. I’ve done things, terrible, unspeakable things.” for you. “for this place. My hands aren’t clean and never will be.” His words were raw, edged with truth. “So why should I be held at a higher standard than you?”

Peter’s thumb traced gently along Felix’s skin, grounding him. Felix let out a breath, then looked Peter in the eye, steady, unblinking. “Maybe I did notice, you know. That darkness? Maybe I just don’t care. Maybe it’s the reason I’m still here.” His lips quirked in a crooked smile, raw but real. “You don’t have to be good. I don’t either. We just have to be here. With each other.”

He let his forehead rest against Peter’s once more, closing his eyes. “This—us—it’s the only thing I want. The only thing that’s ever made sense. And I don’t know anything more than what you know about love…” He swallowed awkwardly. “I guess we’ll have to figure all this out together.”

#lostintheneverwoods #v; loyal lion of neverland #@teddy

Continued from here.

Teddy rolled her eyes at the taller boy, considering hitting him with the closest stick. Though, considering the club he always carried over his shoulder, that may not be the best idea. "Dense? Me? You think I'm dense? Which one of us lost the boar last time, second?" They turned and continued further into the jungle, following the tracks left behind by the deer they were currently hunting. "Can't believe Pan put you in charge. Always subject to your...everything." She continued grumbling under her breath as she walked away, not concerned about if he would follow.

They turned and continued further into the jungle, following the tracks left behind by the deer they were currently hunting. Felix trailed a step behind Teddy, his limp still faint but present, a reminder of the wound he’d taken in the last skirmish. He had lost the boar then, but he wasn’t one to use excuses, not in front of Teddy, not ever.

Felix called after her, "You know, if I could walk faster, I'd probably catch more boars than you. But keep talking, Teddy, maybe your voice will scare the deer right to us."

He added with a crooked grin, "And for the record, being Pan's second just means I've got twice as much sense as most people here. Including you."

@lostintheneverwoods

From Teddy -> "Are you always this uptight?"

A wry smirk crept across his lips, the corner lifting just enough at the girl's jab. "Is it just me, or are you always this dense? Today must be a special occasion for your brand of brilliance."

#v; loyal lion of neverland #lostintheneverwoods

The words landed somewhere Peter had spent centuries pretending didn't exist. Felix's hand still rested against his chest, warm and steady. Peter could feel his heartbeat slowing beneath it, settling into the rhythm of Felix's pulse where they touched.

If you want me, I'm yours.

Peter had heard promises before. He'd broken most of them himself. Felix never made them lightly.

Peter’s hand tightened at the back of Felix’s neck.

“You don't know what you're offering,” Peter whispered. “I'll ruin this. I ruin everything I touch.”

He didn't pull away. He couldn't. Felix's arms were the only place in Neverland that didn't feel dangerous.

He pressed his forehead more firmly against Felix's and closed his eyes. The night smelled of damp earth, pine, and Felix. For one quiet moment, he let himself breathe.

“I'm not good,” Peter said. The words scraped on the way out.

He’d heard Peter speak like this before, like he was a curse, something twisted at the heart of Neverland. Felix knew that look, the one that dared anyone to say he was wrong, the one that braced for disappointment.

Felix drew in a slow breath, searching for the right thing to say, the right thing to do. Then, softly but steady, he shook his head. “You think you ruin everything you touch,” he said, voice rough with old understanding.

He drew back from Peter's forehead to meet his gaze. “But you built this place out of nothing, Peter. You found us when no one else would. You gave me a home when I didn’t have anything but scars.”

He paused, letting his gaze drift to the firelight. “I’ve seen what real monsters look like. You’re not one. Not to me.”

Felix’s jaw tightened. “You say you’re not good, but you’re the only reason I ever wanted to be better. The only reason I believed there was anything worth fighting for here. You pulled me out of the dark, not deeper into it.”

With a sudden, determined motion, Felix’s hands glided from Peter’s chest to his face, cradling it gently between his palms to keep their eyes fixed on one another. He searched Peter’s eyes, his touch radiating the unspoken emotions swirling inside him. “Don’t you see?” he murmured, his voice turning tender. “You mean everything to me.”

His calloused fingers brushed gently against Peter's cheek. “If you think you’re broken, then I suppose I am too. But I'd choose to be ruined with you any day over being ‘saved’ by someone else.”

neverlandborn

It was the oldest trick in world: pushing the most obvious of George’s buttons. He wouldn’t save his own neck but he would risk it for his mother. It was a low blow that tended to work.

But if there was something that measured up to his protective instinct was his stubbornness. Any threat just cemented his idea that showing any sign of weakness would be used against him at the first opportunity “she had nothing to do with this. Nobody does”

#neverlandborn #v; loyal lion of neverland

Felix’s smirk sharpened. “She will, though. If you keep your mouth shut, Wendy will have everything to do with this before long, and you know Pan won’t hesitate to use her. Unless you talk, you’re putting her right in the middle.”

Felix watched George’s jaw set, shoulders tense. He’d seen that look before, unyielding, ready to weather any storm, even if it meant standing alone. For a moment, Felix considered pushing harder, but something in George’s eyes made him pause. There was a flicker of pain there, quickly masked.

Felix straightened, the cocky grin fading ever so slightly. “You always were the tough one,” he said quietly. “You're more like Pan than you know. Unrelenting. Stubborn. But everyone has their breaking point”

He stepped back, letting the silence stretch. In the jungle twilight, the only sounds were the distant calls of Lost Boys and the rustle of wind through the trees. Felix’s gaze lingered on George a moment longer before giving him one final push, "I'm giving you a chance here, George. So, what's it going to be?"

Peter’s hand stilled on Felix’s jaw. She’s something brighter. Something worth more.

He stared at Felix, at the resignation carved into the scarred lines of his face, and something cold twisted in his gut. Felix believed it. Of course he did. Peter had taught him to. Worse, he had believed it for a long time. Maybe centuries. And Peter had never once corrected him.

“Stop.” The word came out harder than he intended. Peter’s fingers tightened against Felix’s skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep him there. “Don’t do that. Don’t—” He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Don’t decide what I mean before I’ve said it.”

He felt the tension in Felix’s jaw beneath his fingertips, the slight tremor that ran through him.

“You’re not just one of my boys.” Peter’s voice dropped, rougher now, stripped of the careful control he wore like armor. “You’ve never been just one of them. You know that.”

His thumb traced the edge of Felix’s scar.

“Wendy is…” He searched for the right word, one that wouldn’t shatter the fragile thing between them. “She’s a possibility. A version of me that might exist somewhere.” His thumb stilled against Felix’s scar. “But she doesn’t know what I am. Not the way you do.”

“I kept you at a distance,” Peter said, quieter now. “Not because you cost me something.” His jaw tightened. “Because you cost me everything. The moment I let you in, I had something to lose.”

His hand slid from Felix’s jaw to the back of his neck, fingers threading into the soft hair there. The gesture felt impossibly intimate. Terrifying.

“And I was right.” Peter’s voice barely carried. “I’m terrified right now, Felix. Can you feel it?”

He pressed Felix’s palm flat against his chest, over the frantic beat of his heart. The proof of it pulsed beneath Felix’s hand.

“This is what you do to me,” Peter said, breath short and uneven. “This is what you’ve always done.” He kept Felix’s hand pinned over his heart. “So don’t tell me you’re just one of my boys. Don’t tell me she’s worth more.” His voice frayed. “You’re the only person who’s ever made me think I might be worth something.”

Felix’s breath hitched in his chest, hand still pressed to the wild thrum of Peter’s heart. The world felt impossibly small in that moment, just the two of them and the hush of Neverland pressing close.

He wanted to say something sharp, something to cut through the ache swelling in his throat, but the words wouldn’t come. Not when Peter was looking at him like that. Not when he could feel the frantic, terrified pulse beneath his own palm.

He let his eyes drop, studying the space between their bodies. Peter’s shirt was rumpled where Felix’s fingers had gathered it, and Felix realized he was trembling, not from fear, but from the relentless hope clawing at his insides. He tried to steady his breathing, to pull himself together, but it was no use. He was unraveling, inch by inch, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

When Peter’s voice cut through the silence, gentle, almost uncertain, but so sure in its meaning, Felix felt the world shift beneath his feet. “You’re not just one of the boys, Felix,” Peter had said, words threading through the dark. “You’re the only person who’s ever made me think I might be worth something.”

The words echoed, ricocheting through his mind, stirring up memories of every moment he’d spent chasing Peter’s approval, every scrap of affection he’d clung to like a lifeline. He’d built a fortress out of loyalty and longing, and now Peter was tearing it down with a single confession.

Felix swallowed hard. He wanted to look away, to hide the rawness in his eyes, but he forced himself to meet Peter’s gaze. “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said, voice low and rough. "I’m not going anywhere. Even if you shove me off the edge of the world, I’ll find my way back. I always have.”

He managed a crooked smile, tired, but real. “You think I don’t know what it costs to care about you? I’ve spent centuries paying that price. And I’d do it again. I’d do it every time.”

He let his hand linger against Peter’s chest, feeling the heartbeat gradually slow beneath his palm. The wildness there was familiar. It matched the storm inside his own ribs.

Don’t let go, he thought, a silent plea that didn’t quite make it to his lips. Don’t make me watch you walk away. I couldn’t bear it.

But he only said, “If you want me, I’m yours. All of me. Even the parts that are ugly. Even the parts that hurt.”

Peter wasn’t sure he was breathing. The night air sat heavy around them, thick with pine and damp earth, and Felix’s words hung between them like something newly born and terrible.

Always.

Peter had heard that word before. Wendy had used it. The Lost Boys used it. They threw it around like it cost nothing.

Felix never had.

Not once in all the centuries he'd stayed. Not through all the years Peter had tested that loyalty without breaking it.

Felix didn't make promises he didn't mean. Peter knew that better than he knew most things.

Peter pulled back. Moonlight caught Felix’s scar, the pale arch of his cheekbone, the slight tension in his jaw that Felix probably didn’t know was there.

His eyes were dark and still, watching Peter the way they always had, like Peter was the only fixed point in a world that kept shifting.

Peter’s throat tightened.

He had never thought about Rufio and Felix in the same breath. The idea scraped against something raw he hadn't expected to find.

Not jealousy, exactly.

Something uglier.

Smaller.

The miserable, childish need to be first. To be the one who counted most.

He never got close enough.

Peter exhaled slowly through his nose.

“Never wanted anyone to,” he said, quieter than he intended.

Rougher, too.

His hand moved without permission, thumb pressing against the hinge of Felix's jaw, feeling the warmth there.

Grounding himself in it.

“Not him. Not anyone.”

He wasn't generous enough to pretend otherwise. He knew what he was.

He'd kept Felix close for centuries with deliberate calculation, giving just enough to hold him without ever giving himself over completely.

Somewhere beneath all the arrogance and cruelty, he'd always known Felix's loyalty was different. That it came from somewhere deeper than the others'.

He had chosen not to name it for a very long time.

His fingers shifted, tracing the line of Felix's jaw, mapping something he'd memorized without meaning to.

“I kept you at a distance,” Peter said finally. The words came out measured and deliberate, the way they always did when he had to force them past resistance.

“You know I did. I knew what it would cost me if I didn't. Because then I'd have something to lose.”

He dropped his forehead against Felix’s temple again and closed his eyes. He could feel Felix breathing, could feel the slight tremble still running through him, barely there.

The warmth of his skin against Peter’s own.

Real. Undeniable.

And the fear was still there. It hadn’t gone anywhere.

“You’ll never lose me.” Felix’s voice was steady, a quiet promise thrumming beneath each word. He leaned into the hand, tracing his face, letting the touch penetrate deep.

“No matter what happens between us,” he murmured, his gaze locked with Peter’s, eyes glinting dark gold in the moonlight. “Even if you turn me away, I’ll still be here. Just like I’ve always been.”

There was no resistance in Felix’s voice, only honesty, stripped bare. Felix had never learned how to be anything but true with Peter. Deceit was foreign to him; half-truths and self-protection had no place between them. Everything he felt was out in the open, vulnerable, and raw. He was tired of swallowing back his feelings, weary from years of holding them tight. It hurt more to silence them than to let them bleed.

The scar cut across his face, a permanent mark from the night they first met. Felix wouldn’t erase it, not for anything. It was a piece of his history, ugly to others perhaps, but never to Peter. Peter’s gaze had never once held disgust, only recognition.

Felix was grateful Peter hadn’t pried further about Rufio. Those secrets lay buried deep, left untouched since the night Hook took him. It had been a moment of weakness, jealousy twisting sharp beneath his ribs, born from the ache of wanting Peter in ways he thought could never be returned.

He hesitated for the briefest heartbeat before lifting his hand. He let himself savor the moment, his rough fingers caressed softly over the smooth, porcelain skin of the King of Neverland. Even now, after everything, a part of him still doesn't feel worthy of this closeness.

“Why should I ever cost you anything, Peter?” Felix asked, the edge of self-loathing sharp in his voice. “I’m just one of your boys.” He let out a quiet, resigned sigh. “She’s something brighter. Something worth more. I think you’re safe with me.”

He was safe. Maybe this was how you protected what mattered most, by pretending someone meant more than they really do. Perhaps everything that transpired between them was all to protect the one person he truly wanted, Wendy Darling.

The truth of it landed heavy, sudden as a stone.

“It’s okay,” Felix murmured, the words barely more than a breath, chasing after the silence that settled between them. “If that’s what this is, I’ll accept it, just as long as you want me... as long as you stay.”

His chest ached with each word, but he meant it. He’d take Peter in fragments, in shadows, in whatever way Peter allowed. Anything was better than nothing at all. The thought circled in his mind: Maybe I’ll always want more than he can give. But I’ll take what’s real, even if it’s only real for me.

neverlandborn

The impassive expression on his face didn’t move but the look on his eyes hardened at the mention of his mother. It was a dirty trick, looking to hit him in a vulnerable spot to get the words out of George

“This doesn’t concern her” his tone remained mostly flat with only the slightest of push behind it. A warning “and involving her would do nothing to get answers. How about that?”

#neverlandborn #v; loyal lion of neverland

“Oh, but it definitely will,” he replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. George’s stubbornness didn’t faze him in the slightest. With just a little more coaxing and a teasing glimpse of his weakness, he was certain he could turn the tables.

"You know your mother better than anyone, everyone except Pan," he said, the last part lingering bitterly in his mouth. But he pushed on, to appear unfazed. "The moment she finds out her boy is in trouble, do you really think she'll just sit back and do nothing? It's your stubbornness that will lead to your downfall. It won't be me who brings you down, it will be you."

"Come on, George," Felix urged, leaning in a bit closer, his voice steady but persistent. "Just tell me why you abandoned your post. Your mother doesn't have to know a thing about it. It really is that simple."

Peter's answer came wordlessly. He pressed his mouth just below Felix's jaw and felt the rapid beat of his pulse beneath his lips. Felix was warm. Warmer than Peter remembered. Or perhaps he had spent so long refusing to remember at all that the reality of it struck him like something new.

Make me believe.

Peter moved along the line of Felix's jaw and felt the shudder that ran through him. His grip tightened involuntarily.

He pulled back just enough to look at him. Felix's hood had fallen completely. Moonlight turned his hair pale gold. His breathing had quickened. Peter had known this face for longer than most kingdoms had survived. He had memorized the scar without meaning to. He had catalogued the exact shade of Felix's eyes during moments he should have been paying attention to anything else.

He hadn’t realized until now that he had been trying to forget all of it.

He reached up and pressed his thumb against the center of Felix’s lower lip. Felt the warmth of his breath.

“You want me to make you believe,” Peter said quietly. His voice was rough around the edges. “You've watched me for centuries, Felix. You've seen every rotten thing I've done. Every lie. Every cruelty.” He searched Felix's face. “You still want this?”

He dropped his thumb from Felix’s mouth and kissed him instead, slower than before, with his hands sliding up Felix’s back beneath the fabric of his shirt. He felt the ridges of old scars there—some he knew the stories behind, some he didn’t—and traced them deliberately, carefully.

He pressed him harder against the tree. His knee found the space between Felix’s legs and he felt Felix’s breath go ragged. Peter kissed him until he couldn’t think clearly, until the name Wendy was something distant and abstract and belonging to a different version of himself that he didn’t recognize very well. Until all he could feel was Felix. The warmth of him. The certainty of his presence. The familiar pulse of Neverland beneath them both.

Eventually, he drew back just enough to breathe. He rested his forehead against Felix's temple. His lungs refused to cooperate.

“There,” Peter whispered. The word brushed against Felix's skin. “Is that enough to make you believe?”

Felix let the words settle, a tremor running through his body that had nothing to do with the chill of the night air. Peter’s hand was still at the back of his neck, thumb circling slow and possessive, grounding him better than any promise. Felix’s skin prickled where Peter touched him, every nerve alight, until he wasn’t sure where his own body ended and Peter’s began.

Peter’s other hand wandered absently over Felix’s ribs, palm wide and warm, feeling every shaky breath Felix took. Felix’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact, a silent confession of how he craved it, how it made his heart trip and stutter in his chest. When Peter pressed closer, their bodies flush, Felix could feel the tension trembling through both their frames, barely leashed, hungry and desperate.

He breathed Peter in, earth, pine, that sharp metallic edge of magic, while Peter’s lips brushed his jaw and then dragged, slow and deliberate, down the line of his throat. Felix couldn’t swallow the sound that escaped him, couldn’t stop his body from arching into that touch, from wanting more. Each brush of Peter’s mouth left a burning mark. Felix wanted to be covered in them.

‘You still want this?’

He didn’t answer, not right away. Felix never had been the type for pretty speeches, and besides, words always felt clumsy in his mouth, especially now, when everything he wanted to say threatened to unravel him. So he let his actions speak instead. He threaded his fingers through Peter’s hair, holding him close, as if that alone could keep the world from shifting beneath their feet.

‘Is that enough to make you believe?’

Felix’s voice, when it finally came, was low and unsteady, tinged with something raw and uncertain. “It’s a start.”

But it was the moment after, the quiet when Peter’s forehead rested gently against his, breath mingling in the hush, that Felix felt something in him yield. He let his eyes close and leaned into the touch, feeling the steady press of Peter’s skin against his own.He let himself believe, just for tonight, that Peter would never let him go. That the island would keep them both, tangled together in roots and memory, as long as they dared to want it.

And if doubt crept in with the dawn, well, Felix had always known how to fight shadows. Tonight, he chose to stay in the light.

He exhaled, eyes fixed on some dark place just beyond Peter’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth… I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Not even Rufio. That was different… he never got close enough.” Felix’s gaze flicked up, sharp and honest. “But you… somehow, you got in. And the truth is, I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you. Not just tonight, not just here… always.”