multifandom imagines

REQUEST: Can you write an imagine with Peter Pan and the reader based off of the song Wanted by Hunter Hayes?

Note: I’ve never tried to write using a particular song so hopefully this turns out okay! Sorry for the wait and enjoy :)

~

Sometimes, you and Peter were almost a normal couple.

When the night finally fell and the Lost Boys were distracted with torturing the pirates, he would sneak from the group and walk the path to your secluded tree house, a spring in his step at the mere thought of being with you again.

You know I’d fall apart without you, I don’t know how you do what you do. ‘Cause everything that don’t make sense about me, Makes sense when I’m with you

You found it difficult to find the correct wording which could describe exactly what you shared with the notorious Pan. He wasn’t from your time- he didn’t see the point of asking you to be his girlfriend and even when he tried his very best to be romantic the darkness of his heart just wouldn’t allow it.

He didn’t believe he had ever experienced love. Not the true, pure kind that the sickening Snow White and Prince David were always bleating about. Considering all that he had seen and done he didn’t know if such emotion was even possible for him.

But what does love matter when what he feels for you is so much stronger? Built on darkness instead of light, his feelings for you could crush an army. You brought him a new lease of life; he wasn’t fighting for himself anymore, he was fighting to keep you on his side. His mind couldn’t quite fathom a time where you hadn’t stood beside him. It was almost as if he had been viewing the world through a black and white lens, and with your arrival you had brought the colour he didn’t even know he was missing.

Fairytale enthusiasts might think that your love could save Pan from his sins, but on the contrary, you fuelled his bloodthirst. He wanted the world for you, and he planned to tear it apart piece by piece simply so he could press it to your palm and feel the sense of twisted satisfaction that came with the knowledge he was the reason for your joy and happiness. You were his obsession, his possession. The dark and dangerous King and Queen of Neverland, and God help anyone who tried to take away his Queen.

Peter had a quick peek through your window, a sense of warmth flooding him at the sight of you sitting cross legged in the centre of your bed, a sketchbook of blank parchment in your hand as you scribble away with pencils and coal. Your treehouse had been decorated with the finest of things he had encountered (and swiftly stolen) on his travels; paintings that depicted exotic foreign realms and coloured glass bottles filled with enchanting perfume. He had made it his personal duty to ensure that you never want for anything.

He knocks a tune into the smooth oak to grab your attention, a smile already threatening his lips as your face lights up in reaction. “Sorry I’m late, (Y/N),” his coming to your treehouse has been a regular occurance these past few months. He couldn’t even recall the last time he spent a night in his own tent, but then again, how was he supposed to sleep without you curled beside him? “Hook can be so resistant.”

“I could come with you, you know.” You suggest as he crawls onto the mattress beside you, your drawings falling forgotten to the floor. A dark expression flickers over his features, something manic, and he lays you onto your back, one hand keeping him hovered above you while the other comes to rest on the warmth of your thigh. “I’ve done it before,”

“Yes, but that was before-” That was before he realised how much he had to lose. That was before you became his weakness and therefore leverage to the pirates. Hook would murder a member of his own crew if it meant holding you in his grubby hand, and Pan refused to give him even the slightest chance. “That was when you practised your magic more often,” He corrects himself. “They’re more cunning than they look,”

“So am I,” you smirk, and Peter catches sight of demons in your eyes that wrecklessly play with matches. He had never seen sparks so pretty.

‘Cause I wanna wrap you up, Wanna kiss your lips. I wanna make you feel wanted, And I wanna call you mine.

He dips his head and pulls you in for a long awaited kiss, the world falling away around you. It was a slow and soft gesture, loving in ways that his words would never be. His hand rested below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek. Your fingers find the softness of his hair, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you and you can feel the beating of his heart against your chest. To an outsider looking in, you were simply a pair of regular teenagers in love. Sometimes even you couldn’t help but feel like this was the case, the old romantic in you refusing to die.

In your past life you had longed for an existence similar to that of your parents before you. During the 1800’s it wasn’t unusual for girls to marry young and begin their families still in their teens, and you hadn’t expected to be any different. You only realised how mundane this wish really was when, on your final night as a girl and not a woman, a shadow entered the bedroom you shared with your siblings. It came for your brothers but stayed for your fire, and upon your arrival to Neverland you had never looked back.

As good as you make me feel, I wanna make you feel better. Better than your fairy tales, Better than your best dreams.

Peter had known simply by the sight of you that you were meant for a life more than what your world could offer. You were cunning, resourceful and just the right amount of manipulative. You deserved more than the cliché of true love and his desire was to show you what you had been missing. His feelings for you were an oil spill- and now that he had dropped the match there wasn’t a drop of land that wouldn’t burn in his wake. “We’ll go somewhere tomorrow,” he promises against your lips, a mischevious grin forming across his own as he opens his eyes to meet yours. “It’s been a while since you left the island- we can cause havoc elsewhere for a few days,”

You were the sole person he trusted to join him on his travels. Not any of the boys, not Felix, but you. Leaving you behind was not an option, his mind grew foggy if you weren’t with him, his thoughts consumed only by you.

“You want me with you?” You smile almost incredulously. You knew Peter cared for you, but the intensity of his emotion had never been very clear until now.

REQUEST: I was wondering if you could do an ouat Peter Pan imagine where the girl is like, a total badass and has dark magic and that she’s really powerful (not as powerful as Peter tho obviosly) but she’s pretty much just as twisted as him and that’s why they’re together. It can be any setting or scenario you want (smut is ok too) but yeah I just want to see Peter with a girl who is as dark as he is but he stil loves her

First of all, thank you so much!! And secondly, I loveee this idea of a dark as hell power couple. I really hope you like my take on it!! :)

~

Killian Jones had met many villians across his extended life time.

There was The Crocodile, of course, and Blackbeard, and the particularly manipulative Cora Mills- yet not one of them could compare to the living manifests of pure evil that took the forms of Peter Pan and (Y/N) (L/N).

Peter was the fists of the relationship. He was violence and daggers and blood stained hands- he used pain to make his enemies fold and he relished their screams like they were melodies composed for his own enjoyment. But (Y/N) was different.

She preferred alternative means to break your soul. She played games of the mind and of the heart- her power was not as strong as her partners but she was just as dangerous. She didn’t use weapons but who needs them when words are just as sharp?

They tortured for entertainment- killed for sport. Even now, long after he had escaped the land they both remained a constant in his nightmares. The only nice thing he could possibly think to say about their ruling was that they had each made him into the man he was today. They taught him to be dark and cunning and to have strength. He knew that if he could survive Neverland he could survive anything.

Hook would never have fancied his chances against either of you on your own- but together? You were unstoppable.

Uneasily, he led the Storybrooke search party for Henry through the eerily familiar paths of Neverland. Swords in fists, together they trudge through the shrubbery, parting leaves and twigs with swift blades and scratched hands. The air is hot- the kind of thick, humid heat that makes his neck damp with perspiration and his mouth dry, and occasionally they find themselves halting to a stop for water in order to keep the dizziness away.

Hook was accustomed to the general sunshine of Storybrooke, and had forgotten the constant darkness that seemed to loom over Neverland. Here, in the forest, the sky vanishes completely and only a few fragments of navy remain, like scattered pieces of an impossible jigsaw puzzle. The air is rich with the fragrance of leaves and loam, damp too. Even so many hours after the rain has passed the soil remains wet, slowly releasing its heady fog.

Killian and the family walk mainly in silence, the only sound being the crunch of boots upon leaves and the occasional murmur of doomed conversation. He can’t help but feel guilty- knowing what he knows about Neverland and it’s rulers- to be leading them to what he believed was certain death. The pirate in him urged himself to forget the boy and run, but he knew that there was no going back now.

“I just don’t understand,” Emma Swan wrinkled her nose with confusion. “In the movies Peter and (Y/N) are the good guys.”

Hook almost snorts, and for a split second he’s sure he can hear the tinkling giggle of your laughter, but before his throat can seize with terror the air is quiet once more. “Don’t be fooled- I’ve never met a pair more treacherous,” He shudders as a flood of memories come rushing back to him- your burning eyes and sinister smirks flashing against his skull. “Pan is hands down the nastiest villain I’ve ever had the displeasure to come across. And (Y/N)? She’s just as bloody wicked as he is.”

He could still remember the first time he met you- the day forged in his mind with every detail still intact despite the time that’s passed. It had been his death sentence- and now that he was back on your soil, he knew you would be unable to resist the chance to finish what you started. You both loved to play, after all, and this was to be the most interesting game yet.

~ flashback ~

“So this is what a real pirate ship looks like,” Captain Hook swiftly turns on his heel at the sound of a gentle voice coming from across the deck, and he raises his eyebrow in surprise at the figure he finds suddenly standing there. It’s a girl- he had assumed that there were none in Neverland- and he feels relief flood his veins at the sight of her friendly face, her smile making him forget that looks can be deceiving. This blind trust had been first mistake. “I’ve read about them often, but I haven’t been lucky enough to find one yet. You even have a crew, how adorable!”

“Who are you?” Hook’s ease doesn’t last for very long as he watches you take a small step closer, trailing your hand across the wooden ledge of the ship. With a sly grin you suddenly vanish and shatter into existence again- this time mere centimetres away from his face. He stumbles backwards with shock, realization flooding his features. His men had retreated to the lip of the boat and exchange anxious murmurs concerning your intentions. They had already faced the wrath of Pan and were not prepared to lose yet another crew member.

“I live here,” you purr, amused by the sight before you. It gave you great pleasure to witness the flicker of fear across the mans handsome face, and your pulse quickened with the anticipation of causing more. Boredom had been brewing in your stomach this past century- you longed for a mind to shape between your fingers, for a game where you and Pan won every round. The arrival of the pirates meant you had been granted exactly what you were looking for, and you couldn’t wait to roll the dice. “Shall I show you?”

You press your hand to Hook’s cheek and suddenly the world is melting around him and in it’s place forms the pattern of a dark forest. Before he can flinch away the two of you are standing in a clearing; there’s a lit fire between you and sinister pipe music fills the air. He gasps and twists in a circle, taking in his new surroundings with disbelief. “How did you-”

“Just a little trick of mine,” you giggle, your laughter a chime of tinkling bells. He had never heard a sound so alluring- and that’s what made the glint in your eye so worrying. “I think we may have company,”

There’s a second figure emerging from the leaves of the wilderness- and at the sight of her his breath catches in his throat. She has long, dark locks of hair and ivory skin. A smile that could make him drop to his knees and eyes so deep he could stare for hours. “Milah?” Killian chokes out, his legs weak as he stumbles towards his past love, his hands automatically finding her cheeks. He pores over her face like he would never see her again- he never thought he would. “But you were dead. I watched it happen with me own eyes. I held you in me arms,”

“It takes more than my pathetic husband to kill me,” She whispers, her skin soft against his palms. All logic and reason is lost to Hook- he’s too overjoyed to see the truth, and as he dips his head to pull in his sweetheart for a long waited kiss, his world comes tumbling down at the sound of a boyish laugh. “Now, now darling. Isn’t that enough?” Pans snicker fills his ear and suddenly the landscape of trees are melting into nothingness along with the feel of Milah in his arms. It had all been a cruel vision- a dream (Y/N) had inflicted upon his mind. He had never even left the boat.

A sob wracks his chest and he drops to his knees- all will to be strong and unforgiving for his crew long forgotten. She had shown him everything he ever wanted and ripped it away. The crushing of his heart to dust in Pan’s fist would have been more humane.

“I like to toy with my food,” You smirk, a mouth full of knives, and your hand automatically finds Peter’s as he takes his stance beside you.

This is how it had always been- the two of you against the world. One heart of coal and the other ash, you were the couple that everyone feared.

Peter presses a kiss to your neck, brushing the purplish bruise he had created with his mouth earlier, and smirks against your skin. What the two of you had wasn’t love. Love is pure and selfless- love is a fairytale.

What you had was electric, with lips bruised from kissing, scratches down his back and manic eyes with the laughter to match. What you had could destroy a nation, and you sure as hell planned on it. He had never dreamed of finding one but you truly were his match. His feelings for you were stronger than love; you were his other half. The one person he truly couldn’t live without.

http://kay-imagines.tumblr.com/post/150530510788/a-loving-reminder

Request:  Could you do one where Peter and the reader are together some new lost boys try and touch the reader but Peter finds out and gets pissed and stuff goes down and Peter must remind her what real love is like or something..... Smut pretty please :X :)

Warning: LOTS of smut

When most people think of Neverland, they probably picture Disney’s portrayal, with boys no older than nine or ten running around in animal-inspired costumes and causing an adorable amount of chaos. Or at least, that’s what you would have imagined before meeting the real Peter Pan.

And although it’s a sweet animation with a storyline that you love as much as the next girl, it simply isn’t the truth,

Neverland really does preserve your youth for as long as you walk its soil- the creator got that part right- but it’s inhabitants are long passed the age of being innocent children and are frozen as teenagers, forever stuck in that curious, hormonal stage of life where suddenly you feel attracted to pretty much anyone around you. Being the only girl on the island they have regular contact with, sometimes the boys have to stop and reminds themselves exactly who you belong to, and what that certain person would do to them if he ever discovered they laid so much as a finger on you.

However, it would take a while for the newest members of the family to realize what Peter was truly capable of. They perceived him as a friend- someone who had saved them from their dull lives at home and never could they dream that there was a demon behind his smile. The stories of what he would do to any boys that dare disobey him seemed too gruesome to be true, and so they would ignore his threats and warnings to keep a distance from you. 

Intrigued by your soft curves and bright eyes, often they would step out of line and your boyfriend would have no choice but to force them back again, which was never pretty. At times, it shocked even you how dark Peter could be- and he was always at his darkest when his possessive side took over.

“Hello, (Y/N),” You were following the pathway back to camp after spending an hour with Tinkerbell when you were stopped by a small cluster of the Lost boys. They were all relatively new to the island- none of them could have been here for any longer than a week but from what you had gathered they were having no trouble fitting in. They had seemed friendly enough at first too, but something about the way they towered over you made you feel uneasy.

“Hi,” you answered slowly, your eyes flitting between each of their faces. “What’s up?”

“We just wanted to ask you something,” continued the tallest of the four. He had dirty blonde hair and a cheeky grin-  you had seen him around the camp fire on a number of occasions but his name had slipped your mind. 

They shuffled forwards, and instinctively, you took a step back. “And what would that be?” Your hand automatically twitched towards your hip, where you usually kept your dagger on a sheath beneath your dress (Peter had insisted you carried some sort of weapon in order to protect yourself) before you realized with an inward groan that you must have left it in your hut after washing the same morning.

“Why is it that only Pan is allowed to have you?” He demanded. 

“Excuse me?” You answered incredulously, shock overriding your features. They should count themselves lucky that the boy in question didn’t seem to be in earshot, because otherwise he would have ripped out each of their hearts and crushed them one by one. “I’m not a possession to be owned, or a prize to be won. We love eachother.”

They exchanged amused glances, as if they knew something you didn’t. “You don’t really believe that do you? You must have guessed by now that he’s just using you to…ah, satiate his needs.” A grubby hand reached out to tug at a lock of your (h/c) hair, before dropping until it met your waist. With a sharp glare, you clawed it off, although his words were having more of an effect on you than you would like. You tried your best not to listen to them- but as always there was a small voice in the back of your mind that edged you to pay attention. It was the very same whisper that sometimes made you question what exactly Peter’s intentions were. You loved him with every fiber of your being. You loved each of his flaws and would continue to do so no matter what he did. He could slit your throat with your own blade and still you would forgive him. It was so rare to be that passionate about something that when you found out that he felt the same it had almost been impossible to comprehend. 

 It wasn’t like he didn’t tell you often enough how he felt, because he did. Perhaps not in the traditional way of “I love you’s” (Pan is no fairytale prince and he won’t pretend to be, not even for you) but rarely a day would go by without him reminding you how wanted you were, and although at the time you would believe all his words and gestures, whenever you were alone again the flicker of doubt in your mind would return.

The truth was, there were moments where you simply didn’t feel good enough- and sometimes you would feel as if you were playing a waiting game, making the most of your relationship until he realized what you had known all along and send you back to where you came. The fact that the boys seemed to believe the same thing didn’t make you feel any better.

 “It’s not fair that only he can have a taste,” the boy smirked, backing you into the trunk of a tree. You could feel the bark scraping your skin through the fabric of your outfit as he pressed himself so close to you, you could feel his heartbeat. (and the slight bulge in his trousers)

 Disgusted, you kicked out and snarled against his grasp but his hold was tight, and when you opened your mouth to call for Peter you met instead the palm of his hand. “We just want a turn, (Y/N). Isn’t that what mothers do? Take care of people?” He mocked, most likely referring to the youngest of the Lost Boys, who had begun to recognize you as “mother” of the camp. His calloused fingertips slowly trailed up your bare leg, kneading each newly discovered patch of skin. His breath was hot on your neck- his eyes wide with anticipation as he practically foamed at the mouth. “We hear you two a lot, you know. We hear what you do… How responsive you are. I wonder, can I make you moan like that?”

You felt sick to the stomach- it was so wrong to have anyone other than Peter touch you. It was like trying to shove a key into a lock that didn’t fit; you belonged with him, not anyone else. 

 “I bet I can.” You glared furiously back at their smug faces- refusing to give him the satisfaction of a single sound. You knew they would get what they deserved eventually. 

There was no use in struggling- even if you could find the strength to break free you were outnumbered and couldn’t fight past all of them, let alone outrun them. You’d have the advantage of the forest on your side- you knew each pathway like the back of your hand, but what they lacked in knowledge they made up with in speed, and there was no way they’d let you get away so easily. His fingers popped at your blouse, revealing the black underwear underneath. “I can’t wait to see the rest of you,” he groaned breathlessly, and you felt his sloppy lips at the cream of your neck, making its way along your collarbone and down your now- bare shoulder. 

 “I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” A sudden cold seemed to fall over the clearing, a breeze rippling through the air and lifting a few strands of your hair with it. Peter had emerged from the greenery of the forest- his fists clenched so tightly that the skin of his knuckles turned white with the strain- and as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he shot one of them into the back of your captor and pulled out his heart, crushing it to dust in a movement so swift you could only catch a blur. 

 Immediately, the remaining boys scattered in a different directions, desperate to preserve their lives for longer than their friend had. But if Peter noticed, he didn’t say: his attention was focused on you. “How dare they,” he growls, aiming a harsh kick at the corpse by his feet with his right boot. With a glance downwards, you saw the ghost of the boys last smirk was still etched onto his face. Any normal person would be horrified that another living being had been murdered before their eyes, but all you could think was that you didn’t even know his name. “I warned them- now I have to kill them.” He’s practically shaking with rage- and when his eyes snap up to meet yours you can almost feel that anger as if it were static- crackling in the air between you. ‘He’s right,’ you think, unglueing yourself from the tree trunk and fixing your clothes. How dare they kid themselves they had a claim to your body- that you were their right. They had to pay, and you were happy to help Peter make them. 

 “Are you okay, darling?” Peter’s handsome expression is strained. Clearly, he is struggling compose himself- but when his hand cups gently at your cheek his features soften almost instantly. “If I had any idea that they would-” 

 “You love me, don’t you Peter?” you ask suddenly, staring up at him with hard eyes. You know that perhaps its stupid, but the Lost Boys taunts had wormed under your skin, reminding you how replaceable you felt, and you needed a reminder of what it was like to have his arms around you. For some reason, that feeling had the power to fix any problem you faced, and you knew this would be no different.

 “Of course I do, (Y/N).” he looks surprised that you asked. “From the moment I saw you, I knew I had to have you.” He ducked his head to kiss you and the whole world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breaths mingled. Running your fingers down his spine, you pressed yourself closer to him until there was no space left between you. You had been here many times- if was the type of kiss that begun gentle, but had the makings to develop into much more.

 Drunk with want, Peter’s only desire was to touch you- to move his hands beneath your summer layers and show you once and for all just how much you meant to him. With a small moan of need, he yanked at your legs until they circled his waist, smoothing his hands over your soft skin. “So perfect,” he mumbled between pecks, his lips brushing yours in a manner that’s no longer innocent, but fiery and passionate- drawing small noises from your throat as he moves to nip at your collarbone with his teeth. “You have no idea how long I waited for you, (Y/N).” 

 “Show me,” you demand, arching your head back and letting out a soft whine as his mouth reaches that special spot of skin that drives you insane. You desperately grind yourself against him, eager for relief from your aching chore and luckily, he takes the hint and within a flash you are shattering into his tent, clawing at his clothes with your fingers. Sex with Peter nearly always consists of painful hours of teasing- he’ll pump his fingers into your dripping heat or swirl his tongue around your clit until you’re on the verge of an orgasm- and then he’ll stop, waiting until the moment has passed before starting all over again. By the end of it you are nearly sobbing with want- begging him to slip inside you and make you cum.

 But tonight is not one of those nights. His focus is not on lust- it’s on loving you. He wants you to feel every inch of him, for you to never doubt again just how much he cares for you.

 Peter lays you down on his bed, his head ducked into the crook of your neck while one hand dips into the fabric of your underwear. The tips of his fingers brush against your clit as he gently slides down your panties, and that feeling of pleasure combined with the sensation of his mouth sucking purplish marks onto your neck is enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your head. “Oh,” you moan softly, automatically bucking your hips upwards into his as you slide his shirt from his shoulders. 

 “So wet for me,” he purrs into your ear, drawing the lobe slowly through his teeth. A shudder ripples through your body and he takes the opportunity to yank at his trousers, pulling at them until they lie in a pool at his feet. “My good little Lost Girl, always ready for me.” His words are husky, his hot breath on your skin. Peter could make even the most innocent love poem sound dirty, but you can’t deny that you love it about him. His darkness had always tempted your purity.

 “Please,” you half yelp, half whisper. With fumbling hands, you tug at the waistband of his boxers, drawing him closer until he hovers above you, your noses brushing. It’s not often you do this here, in his tent- he had always preferred your bed to his. Only the material of his underwear separate you and with a small smirk of anticipation you push them down, running your hand along his thick length as it springs to his stomach. He bucks into your grasp as you guide him to your entrance, the head of his cock teasing your folds. You can feel your wetness practically dripping to your thighs as he finally pushes inside with one sharp thrust, the entire bed moving with the force of your movements. 

 “I love you, I love you, I love you,” Peter chants into your neck, moving slowly to ensure that you can feel each inch of delicious inch as he buries himself inside you and then draws to the hilt again- before thrusting at an angle that makes you squeal. Complete pleasure is overriding your senses- in that moment, all you can think of his how good he’s making you feel and how you never want it to stop.

 The bed begins to creak as it rocks in time with your bodies- shaking beneath you almost as if it’s no match for your rhythm. Although if it collapsed at any moment, you were sure neither of you would care. 

 “I know, darling,” he mumbles after you let out a particularly loud moan, his thumb moving to trace circles on your clit. “I know how badly you want it.” 

 “Oh God, Peter-” you gasp as he hits your G-spot, triggering an entire new wave of pleasure that only heightens with each thrust. “Feels so good. I need to- oh,” 

 He picks up the pace, pulling out once more and slamming in again so hard that your orgasm hits you immediately- a short scream passing your lips that he quickly silences with his thumb. Peter watches you through hooded eyes as your tongue swirls around his fingers, your head flying back to hit the creased blankets as you cum. The sheer expression on your face and the feel of your walls contracting around him is enough for Peter to reach his own climax and he spills inside you, panting heavily as he manages to pull out and collapse onto his back by your side. 

 The two of you lie there for several moments, trying to catch your breaths as you come down from your high. “I love you,” he reminds you again, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to him. You lie on your side, one leg draped over his and you can’t help but smile.

James: Finding ways to bend them.