Felix x Reader (From Once Upon a Time)

Chapter 6

And I never told a soul I was there.

My father swore revenge that day, and he dragged me with him to Neverland to chase it. I grew up in the shadow of his anger, confined to the decks of a ship I wasn't allowed to leave. My world became cannon ropes and moonlit planks, whispered arguments above deck and drunken silence below. He taught me to wield a sword before I learned how to tie my own boots. But affection? Comfort? Those were things I had to teach myself.

And now, here I was. Grown. Hardened. On the island that stole everything from us.

And being watched like a hawk by boys who didn't know how to stop grinning when they spoke of pain.

I looked over at Henry. He sat alone on a log, staring at something in his hands—something small and paper-thin. My gaze flicked to Peter, who caught my eye and gave a small nod.

Permission.

I rose, brushing dirt from my trousers and stepping toward Henry. The firelight danced over his pale face as he looked up. I sat beside him.

"Hey," I said gently.

He didn't speak. Just held out the paper.

My breath caught.

Etched in pencil was a perfectly detailed drawing of Henry—lines soft but precise, as if whoever drew it knew every curve of his expression. It was hauntingly accurate.

"Henry..." I breathed. "What is this?"

"Peter gave it to me," he said, voice hollow. "He said... he said he was looking for me before I was even born. That I'm special. That he wants to show me who I truly am."

I placed a hand on his shoulder. His muscles were tense beneath my palm, like a wire drawn too tight.

"Henry, listen to me," I said. "You are special—but not because Peter says so. Don't believe anything that comes out of his mouth. I'm here to protect you, and I swear on my life, he will not hurt you. Not while I'm breathing."

Henry looked up, eyes shimmering with confusion and fear.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked quietly.

I hesitated for a heartbeat before answering. "Because I know what kind of man Peter Pan is. And I know what it feels like to lose everything. I won't let that happen to you. So just... stick close to me. Don't listen to anything he says, no matter how tempting it sounds. Promise?"

Henry nodded, but his face was still troubled.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement—Peter, emerging from the shadows like he'd been there all along. Watching. Listening. His presence had a way of making the air feel colder.

He gave me a mock bow, then turned to Henry.

"Well, well. Not joining the celebration?" he asked smoothly.

"Nothing to celebrate," Henry muttered.

Peter feigned surprise. "Nothing? Henry, this whole night is for you."

I studied Peter as he spoke, noting every subtle shift in his tone. He was a master manipulator—careful, calculating. But for all his charm, there was always something just beneath the surface, coiled and ready to strike.

"I mean it," Peter continued, his voice honey-sweet. "You've come to save the magic, haven't you? That's worth celebrating."

Henry gave a doubtful glance toward the fire, where the Lost Boys danced and howled like wolves under the moon. I remained seated, my arms folded tightly as I eavesdropped in silence.