#ouat fandom

You burst into the clearing of the camp, but the Lost Boys were nowhere to be seen, likely cowering in the caves to escape Pan’s localised wrath. 

In the centre of the camp, standing perfectly still while the world tore itself apart around him, was Peter Pan.

He stands with his back to you, his green tunic damp, his shadow stretching out unnaturally long and jagged across the dirt. He looks like a god of ruin.

Another bolt of lightning struck a tree barely twenty feet away, the scent of ozone and burning wood filling the air. With a small cry of genuine terror, you bolt. You didn't think, you just acted on pure instinct, sprinting across the clearing and throwing yourself at him.

You crash into his back, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist, your face buried between his shoulder blades. You were trembling, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his spine.

The effect was instantaneous.

The howling wind dies down to a low whistle. The violent rain slows to a soft, rhythmic pattern. The oppressive weight in the air evaporates, replaced by a sudden, eerie stillness.

Peter doesn’t move for a long moment. He looks down at your hands clasped over his stomach. A slow, dark smile spreads across his face, not one of comfort, but of supreme, terrifying triumph. He loves it when the world scares you, because it drives you straight into the cage of his arms.

He turns slowly within your grasp, peeling you off his back only to tuck you firmly against his chest. He hooks a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Your eyes are wide and watery, a stark contrast to his, which were cold and calculating.

"There you are," he murmurs, his voice a low hum that vibrates through your chest. "Back where you belong."

"The sky... it was breaking," you whisper, clutching the front of his tunic. Your eccentric bravado has vanished, leaving only the fragile girl he works so hard to keep dependent.

"The sky does what I tell it to do," Peter says softly, his hand sliding into your hair and gripping just firmly enough to let you know you weren't going anywhere. He leans down, his nose brushing against yours.

"Are you frightened, little bird?"

"Yes," you admit, shivering.

"Good," he whispers, his thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip. His gaze was obsessive, drinking in the sight of your vulnerability. He didn't want to soothe your fear so much as he wanted to be the only thing that could protect you from it.

"Remember this feeling," he warns, his voice dropping to a haunting, melodic tone. 

"The world is a cruel, dark place. The stars are cold, and the shadows have teeth. But here, with me? You're the safest thing in existence. Because the monsters are all afraid of me."

You nod, leaning your head against his heart. You can’t hear a heartbeat, just the faint, rhythmic ticking of a clock that didn't exist. To you, it was the sound of home. To him, it was the sound of a trap finally snapping shut.

He wraps his cloak around you, shielding you from the dying rain, his eyes watch the tree-line with a predatory glint. 

He has you right where he wants you: terrified of everything but him.

xoxo aurelie