Peter Pan X Reader

   Peter's POV:

  Despite what she may believe, I was thinking straight. I had a reason, and I was doing the right thing. I wanted to here her say those words, that I was doing the right thing. But, she wasn't in my head, but sometimes it felt like she was. She was always on my mind, she was my partner, the mother of our lost boys.

  I wanted her to know I didn't mean what I said to her, i hated that I made her and our boys scared of me. It was my intention of course, but I was harsh I can admit that. But, they all needed to learn their place. I was the leader. Not her. Yet, they respected her more than me, they listened for her and they looked down on me just becuase I was hurt. I understood that the only reason that (y/n) was looked at as their Leader now was because of all the things I've done since she's woken up.

  I've always been violent and rough when we played, it was just how it went. It's always been that way, there were no rules and they knew that.

   And yet, as she stood before me, her eyes wide and her fingertips outstretched towards me, I stiffened at her words. They reacted inside me, I was on autopilot all of the sudden, the old Peter suddenly resurfacing.

   My sword was under her chin in seconds and I said all of those things, gloating and boasting about how great I was. And yet doing this, right now, didn't make me feel all that great. I felt no better than those Pirates. The way my boys looked at ms, they way she looked at me, like I was somebody else. Their awestruck faces gone, their smiles vanishing, their laughter seemingly nonexistent, hadn't I been the cause of those jubilant faces hours ago? What changed?

   My eye's flicker down to (y/n)'s belly where the thick layer of cloth forming her green, leafy dress covered her wounds. The wounds I could've prevented, the injuries I blamed myself for ever since we fell from the sky crashing onto the beach.

   She was making me grow up, I never cared about the wounds we had been given during our adventures, no matter how bad. I knew we'd all be fine, we always were. But, she was different. Seeing her laying on the bed of our own making, covered in healing salve and gauze, something snapped and I could almost feel myself on the verge of flying her back home.

   To the help of Adults, to her parents, to nurse and doctors and surgeons and therapists. All types of people that I never wanted to be, to take care of me ever again. They were grown ups, they had their childhood, some of them stuck in a hospital bed and told never to do that and stop jumping and running and flipping because they wouldn't get better. Hospitals forced you to grow up too. They took away your legs, your arms, your hands, your eyes, and then they'd take away your childhood. Everything you could accomplish if you ever went, everything you could do if you never went to that dreadful building.

   That's why I had to burn the map, I had too. She couldn't leave me, she couldn't. The map was the only thing that could help her find the native tribe hidden within Neverland, if things got bad than she'd go to them and take the boys and her back home. The natives, they knew everything about Neverland and if they didn't have the things they needed to treat and injury or even deemed things to dangerous for the boys or even her, they'd tell her to leave. To leave me, to leave Neverland. They wouldn't return or worse, they'd grow up, leaving me here alone. All alone.

   If I was alone would my adventures mean anything?

   Did they mean anything if I didn't have someone to share them with?

   I wanted to apologize, I wanted to crawl on my knees and wrap my arms around her legs, begging for forgiveness, like the child I was. But, I couldn't bring myself too. As I lowered my sword, I lowered my eyes narrowing as I realized that I really was growing up.