#darling pan fic
Photo
CHAPTER 31: Alone
A03
Chapter 1: Pan meets a Wendy
· Chapter 2: Scars (Felix’s Story)
· Chapter 3: Day One
· Chapter 4: Revenge and Fireflies
· Chapter 5: Brighter than Stars
· Chapter 6: filler: The Tigress
· Chapter 7: Operation Spotless!
· Chapter 8: Operation Spotless: Reporters Down
· Chapter 9: A Dance with the Devil
· Chapter 10: filler: Felix and the Pancake
· Chapter 11: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 1
· Chapter 12: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 2
· Chapter 13: The Girl With Blue Eyes: Underground
· Chapter 14. Recovery
· Chapter 14.2 Recovery some more
· Chapter 15: Trapped
Chapter 16: Filth
Chapter 17: Fairydust pt. 1
Chapter 18: Fairydust pt. 2
Chapter 19: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 3
Chapter 20: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 2
Chapter 21: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 3
Chapter 22: Reflections pt. 1
Chapter 23: Reflections pt. 2
Chapter 24: Closing
Chapter 25: Felix is helping Pan
Chapter 26: Temporary Fix
Chapter 27: The Search Begins
Chapter 28: The Missing Pan
Chapter 29: Instincts
Chapter 30: Temperance
Chapter 30.5: Circuits
------
Life's weird, you know? I'm 26 years old and I'm essentially trying to start over.
I've quit my most recent job – and possible career—as a journalist. It was from a combination of exhaustion and a disagreement with management, but the job was leaving me no time or energy to pursue my personal writing. I've been very depressed the past few years and am making some adjustments in my life to try to ease it. I don't know what's happening next, but I want to be me again, and that may take a while. But, in the meantime, I think the best place to start is here.
P.S. I've been working on this chapter since February. It's good to finally get it out.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"We're almost there, okay?" Graham said to the shaking girl beside him, keeping his eyes on the road. If he looked at her, he'd go back to the docks and tear that damned ship apart with his own hands. He'd prefer its owner.
Wendy didn't respond, her bloodshot eyes trained on the passing town, the icy window cooling her burnt cheek.
She was so drained following her confrontation with Jones, but she was angrier at herself than anything else.
She let him go. She let him go and she didn't know why.
He was right there in front of her and she had distracted him long enough that if she had sent the call to Graham he would have been there in moments, gun drawn and handcuffs awaiting Pan's kidnapper.
But she let him go!
"Stupid, fucking stupid!" Wendy husked, fresh tears starting to flow.
"No you're not," Graham soothed.
"I let him go I let him go…" Wendy yelled before breaking down all over again.
Graham gripped the steering wheel hard, trying desperately to contain his firm composure.
Wendy was in trouble and he had no choice but to bring her into custody. As the sheriff, it was his duty, as the man who'd gotten to know her, who'd helped as many times that he had, he was devastated for her.
His fingers twisted into the rough leather, years of police work helping him ease into an impassive state so that her cries wouldn't affect him.
Almost.
He turned down the road to get her to the hospital. He'd have to have Whale look her over for legality sake, but then it'd be off to the station.
He was half-hoping Jones had threatened her, forcibly coerced her into letting him go. At least then she'd be innocent on that level.
After all…Jones did have valuable information on her…
Before he could muse on that subject any further, they arrived at the hospital, and Graham decided to let the matter rest for now. He had a lot of calls to make and Wendy couldn't do much more harm in a secure hospital room.
They sat in the car a moment longer, each musing on their own thoughts.
Wendy had let go of a madman and she couldn't pinpoint why. If it had been de Vil or Jekyll they'd be in a jail cell by now, but why not Jones?
Because she was too close, she realized, and she still hadn't accepted that he had used her. That he lied to her face while Pan was dying just under her feet.
But he was going to let her go! Hell, he'd promised her twice.
And in the end he had…
"I can't kill you, Wendy, you've grown on me too much."
Wendy leaned her head back into the leather seat, groaning. Maybe he did have some shred of humility, fine, but he was still a kidnapper and most likely a murderer.
She'd messed up, Gods had she.
The shrill of a cellphone caused them both to bolt, Graham grabbing the device in his cup holder to silence it.
"Damn it," he cursed when he saw the number, shooting a look to Wendy. "Stay here."
His voice more cold than he'd wanted it to be. But he had to harden his heart now.
Back at the car, Wendy watched the exchange between Graham and whoever was on the other line blankly, her latest outburst having drained her.
The sheriff looked tense and his eyes would cut to her momentarily. Finally he ended the call and made a quick line to her door.
"Let's go," he sighed.
"Where—"
"Back to your room for now," Graham responded, not meeting her eyes.
Wendy allowed him to lead her back to the hospital.
A cold gust of air hit them when they entered the lobby, the very place Wendy had snuck from not even an hour before.
She glanced at the chairs Felix, Tink and August had been in and found them to be empty, but more yelling caused her to turn to the circulatory desk.
"We just want to make sure they're alright!" Tink yelled at the nurse.
"And I've told you unless you're family—"
"We are family!" Tink shot back.
"Enough!" Graham yelled, all but shoving Wendy into the open elevator. "Visiting hours are over. I want you all to go home and I don't want to see you again tonight or so help me I will throw you all in a cell!"
The trio stiffened. Graham had never been this firm before, this…angry.
Tink's eyes met Wendy's. There were so many things they knew they wanted to say, and Wendy was desperate for some kind of comfort.
"I'll bring you some things," Tink said with an uneasy smile.
"Bring them to the station," Graham muttered as he closed the elevator, leaving the trio and Wendy stunned.
The sheriff said nothing to his charge as they traveled to their destination. Wendy knew she was in dire trouble, but she couldn't muster enough fear to truly care. Her mind was too otherwise occupied.
They made to their floor and Wendy stepped out without instruction.
"Just get cleaned up and stay put," he sighed as he opened the door, pausing when he saw that the other occupant was wide awake…
And going through the file he'd left behind.
Wendy gasped at the site of Pan sitting upright in his bed. Just an hour ago she hadn't even been sure he'd ever open his eyes again.
But his eyes were wildly searching through the contents of the file, tearing at the pages with strength he shouldn't have.
"Pan…"
His eyebrows were drawn down in a way that made him confused. He blinked once and finally looked up at her and his expression was utterly unreadable.
That is until he turned to Graham and fire arose in his eyes.
"Is he locked up? Have you told her?" His voice was a bare croak..
Graham came around her and snatched the file from Pan's hands, papers flying about the room.
"You are always…" Graham began with a growl, stopping as his nails tore into the papers in his fingers.
Pan looked between them and at the paper that had flown on the floor. Jekyll's blank face was staring up at her and it was making her nauseous.
But there was something else.
"Have. You. Told. Her!" Pan yelled, his voice breaking from exhaustion.
Graham kept his jaw clenched, is eyes cutting to another series of photos that his officers and pulled from Jones's ship.
Wendy followed his gaze and met the sheriff's, who seemed to beg her not to move, not to think about the situation going on around her.
But she was shaking at this point, terrified and so very confused.
She darted to the photos Graham was staring at, feeling the ghost of his hand grasp at her to stop her, but to no avail.
"Wendy wait—"
But she had one photo turned over, and her blood ran cold.
The faces staring back at her were friendly. Their authentic smile should have comforted her.
But instead they filled her with the most gut-wrenching horror she'd felt to date.
They were the smiles of her parents, her dear mother who never had an unkind word for anyone. Who braved cancer so that her only daughter could seek her own adventure without guilt or burden. Her firm father, who wasn't unkind, but had no patience to try to understand his daughter. Wendy wanted to fix that one day. Her brothers, so young, still coming into their own.
And her. At least, Wendy thought it was. She could barely recognize the girl in the photo, bright eyes and unscarred skin.
It was a picture that, to her knowledge, only existed on her hallway table in her apartment and her parents' mantle at home.
Why was it in one of the boxes that had been on Jones' ship?
"Miss Darling?"
Wendy blinked, the motion slow. The act of lifting her head to look at the Sherriff's face was nearly impossible to do. Her life had been sucked from every cell in her body.
What had she done?
"Miss Darling," Graham repeated. He sounded so far away. Wendy could almost believe he wasn't in the room.
In the distance, a deep grunted cough. And then another until the sound was a constant, frightening hum.
Graham vanished from her view in a flash and she heard his voice burst.
"Pan! Nurse, get in here!"
Wendy found the strength to turn her head.
Pan was bouncing up and down on the bed, mouth agaped, gasping for air that wouldn't come.
"Whale!" Graham screamed as he tried to stabilize Pan.
A broken sound left her throat. Not Pan. Not now.
"Don't …" she croaked, collapsing miserably as struggled to lift herself to her knees.
Don't go.
"Get her—"
What had she done?
"Away!"
Then…
Shifting.
She couldn't see Pan any more. She'd been pulled into a separate part of the room, a thick curtain drawn to obscure him from her view.
But the noise was all too clear.
"P—P—"
"Get Whale in here now!"
Wendy's voice cracked and she has to use both hands to block out her sobbing.
What had she done?
A shift.
Like waves.
The light had changed both inside and outside the room. It must be night now.
On a ship.
Wendy sat up from her hard hospital bed, the curtain drawn around her making her feel more closed in. Suffocated.
The only relief was the thing line separating the curtain from the wall, giving her the barest glimpse of the rest of the room.
The sounds of the hospital's machines lulled her into an outward sense of calm. On the inside however, her blood was crawling.
Hours seemed to pass as she watched the minimum activity occur from that slit. Nurses checking Pan's vitals, checking his monitor. He didn't move once.
"He almost died," once nurse whispered.
"Him?" the other gasped, looking hurriedly back and forth between the comatose boy and her workmate. "Unbelievable! Of all the times he's been in this hospital…"
They blessedly left her alone.
Even if they had looked in to check on her, she wouldn't have been able to reply or cooperate. The shock of the last day had left her numb, incapable of feeling anything but the weight of her mistakes.
It was heavier each time she saw the tense rise and fall of Pan's chest as oxygen was manually pumped into his body by machines. In the way the tube down his throat shook on occasion.
This was the stillest she'd ever seen the wild boy. It was unnerving, like a lucid nightmare.
"Please, open your eyes."
Heal this scar on my heart.
His silence did allow her to think, however.
Her family was in some kind of apparent danger. Why would Jones have a photo of them? What had she or Pan done to make them targets?
She wondered if Graham had notified them or at least the authorities in London. Were they safe? Were they—
No. She couldn't think that. If Jones let her live, certainly he'd exchange the same curtesy to her parents and two underage boys, right?
Wendy slowly sat up, letting blood flow more evenly to her as she urged adrenaline to return. She couldn't just lie here. She couldn't risk her family not knowing they could be in danger.
She eased her legs off the side of the bed carefully, both for balance sake and caution. The nurses would very well tie her to the bed if they saw her walking around. And she had the suspicion that Graham was ready to throw her in a jail cell for the trouble she'd caused.
She was formulating a half-hazard plan in her groggy mind, and it would take someone more diabolical than she to help her optimize it.
She had to get to her family.
Her bag and clothes were laid out neatly on the counter between her and Pan's bed. She grabbed her bag and hugged it to her chest as she slid down to the foot of her bed, trying to stay out of sight from the roaming nurses outside. She breathed in relief as she found her cellphone. 20%. That was enough to make the call she needed.
She hands shook as she dialed the appropriate numbers to make a long-distance call to London and waited to hear her mother's gentle greeting or even her father's more gruff one.
A click.
"Mother?"
We're sorry, we cannot connect this call. Your service is out of bound. Hang up and –
"Damn it!" Wendy shouted, gaining just enough composure to quiet down before a nurse showed up.
Her mind raced like the wind during a sea storm, all her ideas scattered like the remains of a wrecked ship.
Then suddenly, a glimpse of clarity. The eye of the storm.
The eye of the devil himself.
Wendy readied her cell phone to make another call.
No, not to Tink or Felix, or even Lily or August. Too risky. They needed to be here for Pan.
No, she needed someone darker, someone who didn't have anyone else to lose.
She grimaced when she felt the crumpled up business card at the bottom of her bag. For a split second, she hoped it wasn't the one she was looking for, but of course it was.
She gripped it tightly in her clasped hands, hesitatingly heavily. She glanced at Pan's unconscious form, wishing desperately that he would open his eyes and talk her out of what she was about to do. Yell at her. Call her names. Anything.
But he was comatose because of her. She had no right to hurt him anymore.
She took a deep breath and checked once more that there wasn't a nurse coming dialed in the number on the card, hoping they wouldn't answer. It was late after all. Well past business hours—
"Gold's Pawnshop."
Wendy closed her eyes, feeling a nauseous sense of regret hit her.
"Hello?" The voice on the other line inquired more aggressively.
"M-Mr. Gold," Wendy finally spoke just when she thought he would hung up. "It's…It's Wendy Darling."
The pause that followed sounded like the silence after a car crash, when a survivor was still trying to determine if they had survived or not.
When Wendy heard the haunting chuckle that followed her greeting, she was more than certain that at one point in the last few days she must have died.
She was entering the lowest level of hell.
"Miss Darling," Gold spoke. Wendy could picture the large grin spreading over his sharp face. "What can I do for you?"
Wendy fussed with the card in her hand, the silky cardstock a scalding coal in palm.
"I need your assistance getting out of Storybrooke, preferably in the next hour,"
"Does the Mirror not pay you vacation time, Miss Darling?"
Wendy clenched her teeth. "Please, stop."
She hadn't meant the words to come out as a choked sob, but the stress from the last few days were weighing her down fast and she no longer had the ability to hold up her control.
Gold seemed to sense her distress and cut to the chase.
"What's happened?"
"I…I…I can't…" Wendy slipped down the wall, clutching the phone for dear life. "It's complicated, but I got involved with someone who has put everyone I care about in danger."
"Is this about Pan's disappearance?" Gold questioned evenly, even the barest hint of concern absent from his voice.
Wendy decided not to focus on that, knew she'd say something that would end their conversation abruptly is she did.
"It's more about the person who caused his disappearance, partially I mean," she tugged on the edges of her hair nervously. "Bottom line, he's done with Pan and Storybrooke, I think, but my family in London might be next on his list."
Gold remained quiet as Wendy summed up the details from the last few hours, not pressing for any unnecessary details.
"I know it's asking for a lot very quickly, but …" Wendy allowed herself to trail off, not having the strength or the mentality to press on. He knew what she needed, he didn't need the sob story.
"It's quite the request indeed," he commented. Wendy could heard the wickedness rise once more in his voice. "But I accept, but I need something from you first."
"I have every intention of paying you back."
"Not's hardly a concern of mine, Miss Darling," he said. "What I need from you is something a bit more personal."
Wendy gripped the phone tightly. Wendy hadn't thought she'd underestimated him this entire time. She'd seen the darkness in his eyes, saw it in his cold, calculating smile.
She thought briefly of Belle, recalled the gentle way she heard him speak to her at the hospital. Had that been a farce, or had he simply pulled down his mask long enough to appear human. At the time of the young woman's rescue, Wendy wondered if perhaps Gold would recall Wendy's part in saving her and call them even.
"What is it?" she asked, accepting her fate.
He was quite for a moment, but the words he spoke next chilled her.
"I need you to tell me how much you need my help,"
Wendy blinked, generally unsure just what he meant.
"Pardon?"
His cold chuckle followed.
"I know how to recognize a desperate soul, and you are by far the most desperate one I've met to date."
Wendy shook her head, unable to fully comprehend what he was asking of her.
"What…I…I…"
"And I want you ask yourself why that is," he continued.
Those final words hit her like a bucket of ice. Every faux decision she'd made in the last few weeks.
She hadn't meant to hurt anyone. Hadn't ever wanted to. It just happened, and she inadvertently isolated herself from anyone who cared for her.
She looked at Pan's unconscious form once more. It was easy to blame him. He'd twisted every decent thing she'd tried to accomplish. He burned everything he touched.
But she'd made her own choices. She chose to allow him in her life and kept him too close. He'd gotten hurt in the process.
In a way, he would have been better off if she had cut him out.
"This is my price, Miss Darling," he said. "You may take it, or we can part, and we'll speak nothing more of this conversation.
"Fine. I need your help. I…I really need your help."
"Because?"
A hot tear ran down her cheek. It felt like the barest of defeat.
"I'm…"
All.
Alone.
"I'm desperate."
She heard the lightest hum as his response. It was almost a gluttonal sound. She wasn't sure how she would have reacted if she'd heard him laugh.
"Very good, Miss Darling," he said at last. Wendy managed to keep her chin from wobbling.
"Now, I need you to follow my next instructions very carefully. Are you able to leave the hospital?"
Wendy straightened up. Her family. She had to leave.
"I can try, but there's nurses everywhere. I think Sheriff Graham has me on some kind of unspoken lockdown."
Gold hummed once more, this one more calculating than gratified.
"I'll handle him. Now Miss Darling, I want you to dress and gather what you have with you and be ready to leave. When I hang up, I need you to wait exactly 15 minutes. Exactly that, do you understand?"
"Yes." Wendy replied half-heartedly.
"Good. When you're 15 minutes start, you'll make your way down the hospital stairs. Under no circumstances are you to go near the elevators."
"Cameras." Wendy concluded.
"Very good," he praised, though the comment had the weight of an insult.
"Then, when you come out on the first floor, you're going to take a left until you get to the west wing, the one adjacent to the children's ward, do you recall?"
Wendy felt her entire body tense.
The darkness. The smell of mold. Belle's wile, blue eyes.
That horrid man's hands around her neck.
"No." she said definitively. "I can't go through there. I won't."
"Yes you will." Gold said firmly.
"There's another way, there has to be," Wendy pled. How was it that she'd been in this hospital so many damn times but hadn't learned the exit routes?
"Just maybe there is, but do you really want to waste time exploring those options?"
Wendy seethed. "You're doing this on purpose. You're sick!"
She was greeted with a humorless chuckle. "I'm many things, Miss Darling, but right now I'm the one person in the world who could help you."
That's not so, Wendy wanted to say, but she dared not bring Felix or Tink or even August into this. This man seemed to gain power over anyone who gave him their name.
"Then what?" She croaked.
Why are you doing this? I helped you.
"You'll vacate the ward and you'll continue along the wall of the west wing until you come across an overgrown parking lot about a quarter of mile past the hospital. There's an overgrown courtyard you must go through. A man by the name of Mr. Dove will be there waiting for you with a car. You'll go with him and he'll escort you to Boston. By the time you reach there, a one-way ticket should be awaiting you."
The term 'one-way' perked Wendy's attention. Did he think she made no plans to return? Did she at this point?
"Is all that agreeable?"
Wendy hesitated. What was waiting for her if she returned? Scorned friends who were better off without her? An unstable job she was more than certain she was fired from at this point? A jail sentence?
She glanced at Pan, unconscious and oddly peaceful-looking.
"Yes," Wendy answered. "I'll meet him there."
"Very good," Gold said. "Fifteen minutes, Miss Darling."
"Yes." Wendy agreed, ready to hang up.
"Oh, and Miss Darling?"
Wendy flinched, begrudgingly lifting the phone to her ear.
"Yes?"
"Such a pleasure hearing from you again."
He hung up before she could respond, leaving her in blessedly silent quiet.
She sat there for a moment more, trying to decide exactly what consequences she'd see for making a deal with a shark like Mr. Gold. It couldn't be any worse than the rawness in her soul.
She wiped her face. She couldn't think about that now, couldn't focus on anything but getting to her family.
Fifteen minutes. Exactly fifteen minutes.
She began to move, gathering what little she had with her and changing, her stomach lurching at every sound. She eyed the door as she finished, hearing the distance taps of nurses shoes go back and forth.
She silenced her phone, ready to leave, but the site of Pan's still form from the corner of her eye caused her to pause.
She lowered her head in a sense of shame, each beep of his heart monitor stabbing at her.
He didn't respond when she stood over him, her hand's hovering above his form, unsure of where to go.
Ten minutes.
Wasn't there evidence that comatose patience could sense the outward world? Hear, smell and even imagine everything around them?
Looking at him, Wendy had to doubt that theory. He was so still. So unlike the every-moving wild boy who brought so much chaos in and out of her life.
Wendy grazed her fingers over his hand where the IV pumped life into his veins.
The nurses said his dehydration had led to a severe kidney infection. He had just narrowly missed full organ failure by a day.
"Pan," she whispered. "I…I'm sorry for everything. For my part in hurting you. For not seeing Jones for what he was."
Of course she received no reply. In a way she was thankful for that. If he was awake, would he talk her out of this? Try to be some sort of voice of reason? Or would he encourage this dangerous and wayward idea?
Five minutes left.
She continued to graze his skin, counting every second until she could move.
Why did Gold give her such a specific time limit?
"You never really told me about him." she said to Pan. "You didn't tell me how dark he really was."
Wendy found the gal to turn her hand and grip his hand.
"What else did he do to you Pan? Why do you hate him so much?"
Pan's hand flinched under hers.
She would have thought the scream that followed next was his if it wasn't for the flashing lights above her head.
Times up.
Wendy stilled as chaos erupted outside, nurses yelling, running back and forth trying to make sense of what was going on.
But she knew. It was time to go.
"I'm sorry," she said hastily to Pan, missing how his fingers curled inward—trying to stop her.
Wendy stuck her head carefully from the room, having to squint through the flashing red light that bathed the upper level of Storybrooke Hospital. The alarm had summoned all the nurses and the security guards to it, giving her a chance to escape unseen.
She took a deep breath and made a beeline for the stairs that would get her on the first floor.
Her ears were ringing and her vision was blurring from the aggressive lights. Coupled with her exhaustion, it was almost enough to make her pass out. She kept losing her grip on the stair railing and had to claw at the wall to keep from barreling down.
She paused when she saw the dingy, dented door that led to the forbidden ward. It was her only exit, the quickest way to get to her family and ensure their safety.
It was ridiculous to be afraid. Sheriff Graham had looked the place up and down. There was no one in there now. It was empty and dead.
But in Wendy's mind, they were still in there.
Suddenly, the alarm stopped, the agonizing red siren paused, bathing the hospital in the sickening white light. It was now or never. She inhaled sharply and ripped open the door, the dank air sucking her in. Trapping her in as she slammed the door behind her.
Wendy squinted into the dark gray hallway, trying to control her breathing, listening intently to every sound the dank ward had to offer.
She had a ride waiting for her, that's what Mr. Gold said. They'd leave, and then she'd truly be lost. She had to move. She had to move.
She kept her palms on the wall, her hands shaking as she crept carefully down the hall.
"There's nothing here," Wendy whispered to herself. "I'm alone here, I just need to get to the exit…I just need to get out."
Her grip on the wall became more frantic as she ventured further, the hallway advancing into a darkness she'd only see in the depths of her dreams.
The space around was beginning to feel more dream-like, as if she were walking through an inky cloud, surrounded by thick air that threatened to evaporate at any moment.
Dropping her to a slow, expected death.
As the pressure changed, so did Wendy's vision. Burst of reds and greens flashed before her, overstimulating her shaken mind. She began to get disoriented, fearful that she'd gotten lost and she would never find the exit. There was no light, nothing to lead her out.
But then, a shift. A flicker of icy wind licked her cheek.
And something swiped at her hair.
Wendy shot forward, the scream stuck in the depths of her throat shooting upwards to her brain.
No no no no no no no no.
She had to leave, whether out a new exit or to her death she didn't care.
She kept running into the darkness, anemic lines of right becoming more prominent, revealing she was closer to freedom.
Or perhaps it was her own mind singing its desperation for escape.
There was no door, no natural means of escape. The hallway only seemed to get longer.
As full-blown panic began to morph into sheer delusion, instinct kicked in. Wendy searched for the source of the scarce light until she found a filthy window. She used her sleeves to wipe it frantically, her fingers outlining the trees she could just see in the distant.
She pushed at it, trying frantically to get it open as her desperation rose.
A long bead of sweat dove down her spine, her arms shaking from excursion.
"Let me out!" she yelled, slamming her hand on the window until it was caked with a thick layer of dirt and dust.
"Please," she gasped as she began to beat on the glass again. Her only escape. "NOW!"
Wendy's palm burst through the glass, the crisp icy air embodying her freedom. She felt the blood before she felt the sting of the shards breaking into her skin but she continued to push and punch to get out of the forbidden wing.
With a final burst of adrenaline, she grabbed the edges of the window and pulled herself through the narrow space, the surrounding shrubbery scratching at her skin.
Her hips were just barely able to get through, and Wendy was certain she could feel something pulling at her ankles, trying to pull her back into the dark.
She clawed at the out wall for extra leverage, giving her just what she need to squeeze out of the window and hit the hard ground.
Wendy crawled as quickly as she could from the building, flipping onto her back to defend herself against the thing that had been lurking in the ward.
But she was met with nothing but darkness and blissful quiet. Whatever phantom that had plagued her has simply vanished.
Wendy took in a shaky breath, piecing her thoughts together bit by bit.
She had escaped the hospital, though the commotion she just made would no doubt garner unwanted attention. She had to keep moving. She had to get to her family.
She sighed and began to stand, shrieking when a piercing pain erupted though her right hand, arm and hip. She looked down in horror and saw flakes of glass sticking out of her limbs, the testament to her escape. She couldn't even flex her fingers. Each time the glass would stab at her damaged hands.
Wendy's frustration finally boiled over and she let out a great scream, one worthy of a cryptid.
"FUCK!" she yelled as loud as she could, a sharp sob breaking through her throat. For several moments she couldn't stop sobbing, couldn't be brave any more.
The last few months had been pure Hell and she had taken all the hits, numbed herself to the consequences in an attempt to move forward. But it wasn't just her psyche that took a dive this time. It was her heart and her spirit. Killian Jones had shown her the first bout of affection she's truly felt in weeks, made her feel more human that the soulless heap she'd felt like. Pan had long damaged her spirit, but she'd nearly lost her heart completely when she saw him in that hospital room. On death's door because of her.
Now her family—her parents and dear brothers—could be in the same state because she didn't have the gall to pull the trigger on Jones. What if he was there already? Could she do it this time?
She'd never find out if she stayed here sobbing in the dirt, she decided. She wiped her eyes, taking in several calming breaths. Yeah, she'd made some misguided decisions lately, but she had the chance to at least amend one. She'd made a deal with the devil to get to London and she had to go through with it, even if she had to face Graham's wrath when she returned.
She stood with a grimace, hissing as blood ran down her arms and legs, and began limping towards the aforementioned courtyard that modeled yet another maze of horrors. But, with the thought that she was yet another step closer to getting to her family before Jones did, she limped bravely into the weave of dead vines and branches.
She began to look back at the space she just left – wanted to catch a glimpse of the monsters who forced her through that beacon of hell—but decided against it as tears began to well into her eyes.
She'd had enough of that place.
The moon acted as Wendy's only guide and only light source save a few illegally dimmed streetlights. She pulled and fought of dead thorns as she moved closer to what she could make out as a black sea.
Wendy stumbled through the rest of the shrubbery. A glance behind her proved she's put in a good half mile from the hospital—which had otherwise been silent following her escape.
Knowing her time was still extremely limited, she search around quickly to spot an older-fashioned car and a notably tall man standing at its rear.
Wendy approached the two cautiously, both throbbing limbs and paranoid suspicion bubbling through her. This could easily be a trap from Gold—a diabolical and brutally cruel scenario to tease her exhausted mind. It would surely incriminate her to a tee. She's be sitting in Sheriff Graham's jail for the rest of her life.
But she had everything to lose, so she paused at the car, several feet from the large man.
Wendy cleared her dry throat—vaguely tasting dust—and coughed out a greeting to the man. He turned around effortlessly, his eyes evaluating her with a calm and potently disinterested scowl.
"Mr…bird?" Wendy coughed.
"Dove, actually," the man returned with a curt nod, his tone more softer than his appearance had previewed. "Miss Darling, I presume."
Wendy felt a twinge of relief, nodding.
Mr. Dove nodded and stepped around the car—oddly seeming smaller not that he was closer to Wendy. He opened the back passenger door and waved Wendy to it.
"We haven't much time, so I'm afraid we'll have to go straight to the Boston Airport,"
Wendy tensed. "We can't stop by my apartment quickly? I'm sorry, but I have to grab my cellphone charger, not to mention my passport—"
Mr. Dove moved slightly, holding out a shoulder bag thick with items.
"Mr. Gold had me gather the proper documentation. I'm afraid you'll have to figure out your toiletries in your own time."
Wendy's face paled, an unfortunate image of this perfect stranger filtering through her intimate belongings but accepted the bag quickly.
"I guess this is it," Wendy sighed, feeling a strange emptiness weigh her.
"Yes," Dove answered. "If you'll please—"
The irritating sound of a revved engine spearing towards them caused Wendy and Mr. Dove both to pause. Both shot towards the reverberating sound as a pair of headlights beamed closer to them.
Wendy sucked in a breath. If it was Graham, she was done for!
Mr. Dove tensed beside him and Wendy gasped when his hand drew into his oversized coat for what must have been a weapon.
The car – a pea green Voltzwagon Bug – came to a screeching halt in front of them, its owner stepping out with a growl.
"Tink!" Wendy gasped.
"Miss Le Bell?"
Tink burst out of her pea-green bug, the door slamming so hard behind her Wendy feared the sound echoed into the hospital.
The blond woman glared back before her Wendy and the excessively tall man who seemed to know her.
She stopped in front of them, hands on her hips, and they both seemed to shrink under her sharp gaze.
"I knew it," Tink said, the words like acid. "I felt it in my bones. Something is wrong and you're working with…"
"It's not what you think!" Wendy jumped in.
Tink gave her an incredulous look and turned her ire back towards the excessively tall man before them.
"Mr. Dove," Tink said as a form of greeting. "Please?"
"I'm sorry, Miss Le Bell," Dove spoke evenly. "This is between Miss Darling and Mr. Gold."
"Well now it's between her and me," Tink said, stepping around to the passenger side of her car. She opened her door, begging Wendy's cooperation with her eyes.
"Wendy, please get in."
"I can't," Wendy said, though she was itching to get into Tink's warm and familiar BMW than Gold's cold and ominous Cadillac.
"Wendy, whatever's going on, whatever you did or what you're running from, associating with Mr. Gold is not the way to fix your problem," Tink said.
"I don't have a choice," Wendy said simply. "I don't have time to explain, and I know I have no right asking you for anything…" she swallowed guiltily. "Please Tink, don't say anything and don't try to stop me."
Tink shook her head. "Wendy, let me help you. Gold is the last person you can trust. The second you accept something from him, your deal never ends. Whatever's happened to you, it's not worth chaining yourself to him."
"It is if it keeps my friends and family safe," Wendy countered before frowning. "Family, I mean."
Tink sighed. "Wendy, what happened between me and Mother Superior, that had nothing to do with you."
"Of course it is!" Wendy said.
"No," Tink said as she shook her head. She bowed it next as the next thought came to her. "It's kind of like Pan said, she had it coming. I hate her lies were exposed the way they were, but in the end, I'm glad it's all over with. Yes, I'm angry, but I'm ready to move on, and I am so sorry you got hurt and mixed up with this."
Wendy struggled not to cave. Tink wouldn't dare try to use mental manipulation with her, but this still stalling her even if her words seemed sincere.
"I…" Wendy gulped, too many thoughts swarming her senses.
"I…I can't do this now," Wendy cried. "I have to go."
"Where are you going? What's going on Wendy, let me help you!"
"I can't let anyone else get hurt because of me! Please Tink, let me handle this."
"Not like this," Tink said firmly, turning her sharp gaze to Dove. "Where are you taking her? I'll take her there."
"Tink, no—" Wendy begged.
"Don't be like Pan, Wendy," Tink yelled. Wendy stiffened. "Don't push everyone away when things become too much! You have people who care about you! Let them help you. Whatever's happened, don't go at it alone."
Wendy stared at her former friend. How could one person be so sure when everything was falling around them? Was Tink right? Was she doing what Pan would do and push people away? He did do that, but there were moments when she could feel that all he wanted was to reach out. However, he disguised this need with cruelty, either due to a lack of compassion or a fear of intimacy she had yet to discover..
And now Wendy was doing the same thing.
You're just as filthy and selfish as he is.
Even though she wanted to protect Tink, she also didn't want to leave Storybrooke with a complete stranger.
Wendy turned to Dove, who was still watching their interaction quietly.
"I'd like to go with her, please,"
Dove nodded. "I can't stop you, but I will have to alert Mr. Gold of this change."
"You may do so," Wendy said, slinging the bag with her passport protectively over her shoulder.
Dove looked down at his watch. "I'd suggest you move quickly then. You're flight for London leave at 4 a.m."
Tink stiffened. "London?"
Wendy looked at her helplessly and Tink didn't press the subject further.
"Boston Airport it is."
Wendy nodded and got into Tink's warm car, putting on her seatbelt as Tink typed the directions in her phone.
Wendy looked at Dove through the rearview mirror as they drove off. He was a still as a statute, and she truly hoped he was more friend than foe. Still, she wondered what the repercussions of her decision would be with Gold. But she couldn't think of that right now. She couldn't think of anything but getting to London.
"Check the glove compartment." Tink said suddenly.
"What?"
Tink took her eyes off the road for a moment to nod at Wendy's hands and legs.
"You're bleeding. I think I have some antiseptic and gauze in my first aid kit. It's in the glove compartment."
"Oh!" Wendy said, the pain creeping back into her limbs. Her hands were blood and dirty as were her jeans. A thick, dry gash stained her entire thigh. Wendy viciously rubbed at the area with Tink's provided wet wipes, biting her lip to keep from hissing at the pain. No doubt she'd need to clean it properly when she reached London. She parents may insist she see a doctor.
Tink remained quiet as they drove but Wendy could sense her tension. Her hands gripped the steering wheel firmly, a hint of white spreading across her knuckles.
"I can't tell you much right now," Wendy said, looking out the window so she wouldn't meet Tink's eyes.
"I figured," she returned. "But…I'm willing to listen. You know that, right?"
Wendy did. And she was more than grateful. But she didn't want her to taint her with her sins. Tink deserved so much better than that.
Thankfully, Tink didn't breach the subject any further and they soon arrived at the airport with ample time to spare.
"Do you want me to walk in with you?" Tink inquired.
"I'm fine, thank you," Wendy said as she opened the door.
"Hold on," Tink said, undoing her seatbelt and turning to search through her back seat. Wendy was surprised when she pulled out one of Wendy's tote back, her cellphone charger poised at the overflowing bag's contents.
"I…"
"Told you I'd bring you some things," Tink finished, giving her a half smile. "I got you Wendy, no matter what."
Wendy hugged the bag closely to her, the familiar scent of her clothing causing tears to well in her eyes. And try as Wendy did, she couldn't stop them from flowing. She was sobbing before she could stop herself, harder than she had even at the hospital.
Tink allowed her a few moments to get started before she leaned in and wrapped her arms around her, allowing her to sob into her shoulder.
"It's okay," Tink said.
As she continued to release her anguish, Wendy thought perhaps she was right. She survived so much so far and Tink's compassion inspired her that she would survive this whole horror story.
She calmed finally, though Tink's comfort did not cease.
It was this comfort that allowed Wendy to belive—truly, truly believe—
She was not alone.
Felix never really knew what to make of August. He knew of his doomed relationship with Pan, knew it was just a bit more serious than some of his other trysts, but ultimately didn't survive Pan's chaotic mood and lifestyle.
Frankly, he wasn't fond of August. He hated how he'd hurt his father over and over again. Hated how casually he lived with the things he did.
But, he decided as they walked to Pan and Wendy's shared room, he had to have some decency if he went through all they had the last few days for Pan's sake. Pity his fondness was one-sided.
They entered the room the nurse below gave them, squinting in the black to see two empty and unmade beds.
"Maybe we're in the wrong room?"
Felix knew good and well they weren't. August knew it as well, but admitting to the sight before them would lead to a whole new wave of trouble.
Pan's bed was empty, his IVs thrown carelessly to the floor.
His window—fully opened—had let in a strangely warm and terrifying breeze in his absence.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Geez, I finally got Pan off that ship … but where is he now?
Life's weird, you know? I'm 26 years old and I'm essentially trying to start over.
I've quit my most recent job – and possible career—as a journalist. It was from a combination of exhaustion and a disagreement with management, but the job was leaving me no time or energy to pursue my personal writing. I've been very depressed the past few years and am making some adjustments in my life to try to ease it. I don't know what's happening next, but I want to be me again, and that may take a while. But, in the meantime, I think the best place to start is here.
P.S. I've been working on this chapter since February. It's good to finally get it out.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"We're almost there, okay?" Graham said to the shaking girl beside him, keeping his eyes on the road. If he looked at her, he'd go back to the docks and tear that damned ship apart with his own hands. He'd prefer its owner.
Wendy didn't respond, her bloodshot eyes trained on the passing town, the icy window cooling her burnt cheek.
She was so drained following her confrontation with Jones, but she was angrier at herself than anything else.
She let him go. She let him go and she didn't know why.
He was right there in front of her and she had distracted him long enough that if she had sent the call to Graham he would have been there in moments, gun drawn and handcuffs awaiting Pan's kidnapper.
But she let him go!
"Stupid, fucking stupid!" Wendy husked, fresh tears starting to flow.
"No you're not," Graham soothed.
"I let him go I let him go…" Wendy yelled before breaking down all over again.
Graham gripped the steering wheel hard, trying desperately to contain his firm composure.
Wendy was in trouble and he had no choice but to bring her into custody. As the sheriff, it was his duty, as the man who'd gotten to know her, who'd helped as many times that he had, he was devastated for her.
His fingers twisted into the rough leather, years of police work helping him ease into an impassive state so that her cries wouldn't affect him.
Almost.
He turned down the road to get her to the hospital. He'd have to have Whale look her over for legality sake, but then it'd be off to the station.
He was half-hoping Jones had threatened her, forcibly coerced her into letting him go. At least then she'd be innocent on that level.
After all…Jones did have valuable information on her…
Before he could muse on that subject any further, they arrived at the hospital, and Graham decided to let the matter rest for now. He had a lot of calls to make and Wendy couldn't do much more harm in a secure hospital room.
They sat in the car a moment longer, each musing on their own thoughts.
Wendy had let go of a madman and she couldn't pinpoint why. If it had been de Vil or Jekyll they'd be in a jail cell by now, but why not Jones?
Because she was too close, she realized, and she still hadn't accepted that he had used her. That he lied to her face while Pan was dying just under her feet.
But he was going to let her go! Hell, he'd promised her twice.
And in the end he had…
"I can't kill you, Wendy, you've grown on me too much."
Wendy leaned her head back into the leather seat, groaning. Maybe he did have some shred of humility, fine, but he was still a kidnapper and most likely a murderer.
She'd messed up, Gods had she.
The shrill of a cellphone caused them both to bolt, Graham grabbing the device in his cup holder to silence it.
"Damn it," he cursed when he saw the number, shooting a look to Wendy. "Stay here."
His voice more cold than he'd wanted it to be. But he had to harden his heart now.
Back at the car, Wendy watched the exchange between Graham and whoever was on the other line blankly, her latest outburst having drained her.
The sheriff looked tense and his eyes would cut to her momentarily. Finally he ended the call and made a quick line to her door.
"Let's go," he sighed.
"Where—"
"Back to your room for now," Graham responded, not meeting her eyes.
Wendy allowed him to lead her back to the hospital.
A cold gust of air hit them when they entered the lobby, the very place Wendy had snuck from not even an hour before.
She glanced at the chairs Felix, Tink and August had been in and found them to be empty, but more yelling caused her to turn to the circulatory desk.
"We just want to make sure they're alright!" Tink yelled at the nurse.
"And I've told you unless you're family—"
"We are family!" Tink shot back.
"Enough!" Graham yelled, all but shoving Wendy into the open elevator. "Visiting hours are over. I want you all to go home and I don't want to see you again tonight or so help me I will throw you all in a cell!"
The trio stiffened. Graham had never been this firm before, this…angry.
Tink's eyes met Wendy's. There were so many things they knew they wanted to say, and Wendy was desperate for some kind of comfort.
"I'll bring you some things," Tink said with an uneasy smile.
"Bring them to the station," Graham muttered as he closed the elevator, leaving the trio and Wendy stunned.
The sheriff said nothing to his charge as they traveled to their destination. Wendy knew she was in dire trouble, but she couldn't muster enough fear to truly care. Her mind was too otherwise occupied.
They made to their floor and Wendy stepped out without instruction.
"Just get cleaned up and stay put," he sighed as he opened the door, pausing when he saw that the other occupant was wide awake…
And going through the file he'd left behind.
Wendy gasped at the site of Pan sitting upright in his bed. Just an hour ago she hadn't even been sure he'd ever open his eyes again.
But his eyes were wildly searching through the contents of the file, tearing at the pages with strength he shouldn't have.
"Pan…"
His eyebrows were drawn down in a way that made him confused. He blinked once and finally looked up at her and his expression was utterly unreadable.
That is until he turned to Graham and fire arose in his eyes.
"Is he locked up? Have you told her?" His voice was a bare croak..
Graham came around her and snatched the file from Pan's hands, papers flying about the room.
"You are always…" Graham began with a growl, stopping as his nails tore into the papers in his fingers.
Pan looked between them and at the paper that had flown on the floor. Jekyll's blank face was staring up at her and it was making her nauseous.
But there was something else.
"Have. You. Told. Her!" Pan yelled, his voice breaking from exhaustion.
Graham kept his jaw clenched, is eyes cutting to another series of photos that his officers and pulled from Jones's ship.
Wendy followed his gaze and met the sheriff's, who seemed to beg her not to move, not to think about the situation going on around her.
But she was shaking at this point, terrified and so very confused.
She darted to the photos Graham was staring at, feeling the ghost of his hand grasp at her to stop her, but to no avail.
"Wendy wait—"
But she had one photo turned over, and her blood ran cold.
The faces staring back at her were friendly. Their authentic smile should have comforted her.
But instead they filled her with the most gut-wrenching horror she'd felt to date.
They were the smiles of her parents, her dear mother who never had an unkind word for anyone. Who braved cancer so that her only daughter could seek her own adventure without guilt or burden. Her firm father, who wasn't unkind, but had no patience to try to understand his daughter. Wendy wanted to fix that one day. Her brothers, so young, still coming into their own.
And her. At least, Wendy thought it was. She could barely recognize the girl in the photo, bright eyes and unscarred skin.
It was a picture that, to her knowledge, only existed on her hallway table in her apartment and her parents' mantle at home.
Why was it in one of the boxes that had been on Jones' ship?
"Miss Darling?"
Wendy blinked, the motion slow. The act of lifting her head to look at the Sherriff's face was nearly impossible to do. Her life had been sucked from every cell in her body.
What had she done?
"Miss Darling," Graham repeated. He sounded so far away. Wendy could almost believe he wasn't in the room.
In the distance, a deep grunted cough. And then another until the sound was a constant, frightening hum.
Graham vanished from her view in a flash and she heard his voice burst.
"Pan! Nurse, get in here!"
Wendy found the strength to turn her head.
Pan was bouncing up and down on the bed, mouth agaped, gasping for air that wouldn't come.
"Whale!" Graham screamed as he tried to stabilize Pan.
A broken sound left her throat. Not Pan. Not now.
"Don't …" she croaked, collapsing miserably as struggled to lift herself to her knees.
Don't go.
"Get her—"
What had she done?
"Away!"
Then…
Shifting.
She couldn't see Pan any more. She'd been pulled into a separate part of the room, a thick curtain drawn to obscure him from her view.
But the noise was all too clear.
"P—P—"
"Get Whale in here now!"
Wendy's voice cracked and she has to use both hands to block out her sobbing.
What had she done?
A shift.
Like waves.
The light had changed both inside and outside the room. It must be night now.
On a ship.
Wendy sat up from her hard hospital bed, the curtain drawn around her making her feel more closed in. Suffocated.
The only relief was the thing line separating the curtain from the wall, giving her the barest glimpse of the rest of the room.
The sounds of the hospital's machines lulled her into an outward sense of calm. On the inside however, her blood was crawling.
Hours seemed to pass as she watched the minimum activity occur from that slit. Nurses checking Pan's vitals, checking his monitor. He didn't move once.
"He almost died," once nurse whispered.
"Him?" the other gasped, looking hurriedly back and forth between the comatose boy and her workmate. "Unbelievable! Of all the times he's been in this hospital…"
They blessedly left her alone.
Even if they had looked in to check on her, she wouldn't have been able to reply or cooperate. The shock of the last day had left her numb, incapable of feeling anything but the weight of her mistakes.
It was heavier each time she saw the tense rise and fall of Pan's chest as oxygen was manually pumped into his body by machines. In the way the tube down his throat shook on occasion.
This was the stillest she'd ever seen the wild boy. It was unnerving, like a lucid nightmare.
"Please, open your eyes."
Heal this scar on my heart.
His silence did allow her to think, however.
Her family was in some kind of apparent danger. Why would Jones have a photo of them? What had she or Pan done to make them targets?
She wondered if Graham had notified them or at least the authorities in London. Were they safe? Were they—
No. She couldn't think that. If Jones let her live, certainly he'd exchange the same curtesy to her parents and two underage boys, right?
Wendy slowly sat up, letting blood flow more evenly to her as she urged adrenaline to return. She couldn't just lie here. She couldn't risk her family not knowing they could be in danger.
She eased her legs off the side of the bed carefully, both for balance sake and caution. The nurses would very well tie her to the bed if they saw her walking around. And she had the suspicion that Graham was ready to throw her in a jail cell for the trouble she'd caused.
She was formulating a half-hazard plan in her groggy mind, and it would take someone more diabolical than she to help her optimize it.
She had to get to her family.
Her bag and clothes were laid out neatly on the counter between her and Pan's bed. She grabbed her bag and hugged it to her chest as she slid down to the foot of her bed, trying to stay out of sight from the roaming nurses outside. She breathed in relief as she found her cellphone. 20%. That was enough to make the call she needed.
She hands shook as she dialed the appropriate numbers to make a long-distance call to London and waited to hear her mother's gentle greeting or even her father's more gruff one.
A click.
"Mother?"
We're sorry, we cannot connect this call. Your service is out of bound. Hang up and –
"Damn it!" Wendy shouted, gaining just enough composure to quiet down before a nurse showed up.
Her mind raced like the wind during a sea storm, all her ideas scattered like the remains of a wrecked ship.
Then suddenly, a glimpse of clarity. The eye of the storm.
The eye of the devil himself.
Wendy readied her cell phone to make another call.
No, not to Tink or Felix, or even Lily or August. Too risky. They needed to be here for Pan.
No, she needed someone darker, someone who didn't have anyone else to lose.
She grimaced when she felt the crumpled up business card at the bottom of her bag. For a split second, she hoped it wasn't the one she was looking for, but of course it was.
She gripped it tightly in her clasped hands, hesitatingly heavily. She glanced at Pan's unconscious form, wishing desperately that he would open his eyes and talk her out of what she was about to do. Yell at her. Call her names. Anything.
But he was comatose because of her. She had no right to hurt him anymore.
She took a deep breath and checked once more that there wasn't a nurse coming dialed in the number on the card, hoping they wouldn't answer. It was late after all. Well past business hours—
"Gold's Pawnshop."
Wendy closed her eyes, feeling a nauseous sense of regret hit her.
"Hello?" The voice on the other line inquired more aggressively.
"M-Mr. Gold," Wendy finally spoke just when she thought he would hung up. "It's…It's Wendy Darling."
The pause that followed sounded like the silence after a car crash, when a survivor was still trying to determine if they had survived or not.
When Wendy heard the haunting chuckle that followed her greeting, she was more than certain that at one point in the last few days she must have died.
She was entering the lowest level of hell.
"Miss Darling," Gold spoke. Wendy could picture the large grin spreading over his sharp face. "What can I do for you?"
Wendy fussed with the card in her hand, the silky cardstock a scalding coal in palm.
"I need your assistance getting out of Storybrooke, preferably in the next hour,"
"Does the Mirror not pay you vacation time, Miss Darling?"
Wendy clenched her teeth. "Please, stop."
She hadn't meant the words to come out as a choked sob, but the stress from the last few days were weighing her down fast and she no longer had the ability to hold up her control.
Gold seemed to sense her distress and cut to the chase.
"What's happened?"
"I…I…I can't…" Wendy slipped down the wall, clutching the phone for dear life. "It's complicated, but I got involved with someone who has put everyone I care about in danger."
"Is this about Pan's disappearance?" Gold questioned evenly, even the barest hint of concern absent from his voice.
Wendy decided not to focus on that, knew she'd say something that would end their conversation abruptly is she did.
"It's more about the person who caused his disappearance, partially I mean," she tugged on the edges of her hair nervously. "Bottom line, he's done with Pan and Storybrooke, I think, but my family in London might be next on his list."
Gold remained quiet as Wendy summed up the details from the last few hours, not pressing for any unnecessary details.
"I know it's asking for a lot very quickly, but …" Wendy allowed herself to trail off, not having the strength or the mentality to press on. He knew what she needed, he didn't need the sob story.
"It's quite the request indeed," he commented. Wendy could heard the wickedness rise once more in his voice. "But I accept, but I need something from you first."
"I have every intention of paying you back."
"Not's hardly a concern of mine, Miss Darling," he said. "What I need from you is something a bit more personal."
Wendy gripped the phone tightly. Wendy hadn't thought she'd underestimated him this entire time. She'd seen the darkness in his eyes, saw it in his cold, calculating smile.
She thought briefly of Belle, recalled the gentle way she heard him speak to her at the hospital. Had that been a farce, or had he simply pulled down his mask long enough to appear human. At the time of the young woman's rescue, Wendy wondered if perhaps Gold would recall Wendy's part in saving her and call them even.
"What is it?" she asked, accepting her fate.
He was quite for a moment, but the words he spoke next chilled her.
"I need you to tell me how much you need my help,"
Wendy blinked, generally unsure just what he meant.
"Pardon?"
His cold chuckle followed.
"I know how to recognize a desperate soul, and you are by far the most desperate one I've met to date."
Wendy shook her head, unable to fully comprehend what he was asking of her.
"What…I…I…"
"And I want you ask yourself why that is," he continued.
Those final words hit her like a bucket of ice. Every faux decision she'd made in the last few weeks.
She hadn't meant to hurt anyone. Hadn't ever wanted to. It just happened, and she inadvertently isolated herself from anyone who cared for her.
She looked at Pan's unconscious form once more. It was easy to blame him. He'd twisted every decent thing she'd tried to accomplish. He burned everything he touched.
But she'd made her own choices. She chose to allow him in her life and kept him too close. He'd gotten hurt in the process.
In a way, he would have been better off if she had cut him out.
"This is my price, Miss Darling," he said. "You may take it, or we can part, and we'll speak nothing more of this conversation.
"Fine. I need your help. I…I really need your help."
"Because?"
A hot tear ran down her cheek. It felt like the barest of defeat.
"I'm…"
All.
Alone.
"I'm desperate."
She heard the lightest hum as his response. It was almost a gluttonal sound. She wasn't sure how she would have reacted if she'd heard him laugh.
"Very good, Miss Darling," he said at last. Wendy managed to keep her chin from wobbling.
"Now, I need you to follow my next instructions very carefully. Are you able to leave the hospital?"
Wendy straightened up. Her family. She had to leave.
"I can try, but there's nurses everywhere. I think Sheriff Graham has me on some kind of unspoken lockdown."
Gold hummed once more, this one more calculating than gratified.
"I'll handle him. Now Miss Darling, I want you to dress and gather what you have with you and be ready to leave. When I hang up, I need you to wait exactly 15 minutes. Exactly that, do you understand?"
"Yes." Wendy replied half-heartedly.
"Good. When you're 15 minutes start, you'll make your way down the hospital stairs. Under no circumstances are you to go near the elevators."
"Cameras." Wendy concluded.
"Very good," he praised, though the comment had the weight of an insult.
"Then, when you come out on the first floor, you're going to take a left until you get to the west wing, the one adjacent to the children's ward, do you recall?"
Wendy felt her entire body tense.
The darkness. The smell of mold. Belle's wile, blue eyes.
That horrid man's hands around her neck.
"No." she said definitively. "I can't go through there. I won't."
"Yes you will." Gold said firmly.
"There's another way, there has to be," Wendy pled. How was it that she'd been in this hospital so many damn times but hadn't learned the exit routes?
"Just maybe there is, but do you really want to waste time exploring those options?"
Wendy seethed. "You're doing this on purpose. You're sick!"
She was greeted with a humorless chuckle. "I'm many things, Miss Darling, but right now I'm the one person in the world who could help you."
That's not so, Wendy wanted to say, but she dared not bring Felix or Tink or even August into this. This man seemed to gain power over anyone who gave him their name.
"Then what?" She croaked.
Why are you doing this? I helped you.
"You'll vacate the ward and you'll continue along the wall of the west wing until you come across an overgrown parking lot about a quarter of mile past the hospital. There's an overgrown courtyard you must go through. A man by the name of Mr. Dove will be there waiting for you with a car. You'll go with him and he'll escort you to Boston. By the time you reach there, a one-way ticket should be awaiting you."
The term 'one-way' perked Wendy's attention. Did he think she made no plans to return? Did she at this point?
"Is all that agreeable?"
Wendy hesitated. What was waiting for her if she returned? Scorned friends who were better off without her? An unstable job she was more than certain she was fired from at this point? A jail sentence?
She glanced at Pan, unconscious and oddly peaceful-looking.
"Yes," Wendy answered. "I'll meet him there."
"Very good," Gold said. "Fifteen minutes, Miss Darling."
"Yes." Wendy agreed, ready to hang up.
"Oh, and Miss Darling?"
Wendy flinched, begrudgingly lifting the phone to her ear.
"Yes?"
"Such a pleasure hearing from you again."
He hung up before she could respond, leaving her in blessedly silent quiet.
She sat there for a moment more, trying to decide exactly what consequences she'd see for making a deal with a shark like Mr. Gold. It couldn't be any worse than the rawness in her soul.
She wiped her face. She couldn't think about that now, couldn't focus on anything but getting to her family.
Fifteen minutes. Exactly fifteen minutes.
She began to move, gathering what little she had with her and changing, her stomach lurching at every sound. She eyed the door as she finished, hearing the distance taps of nurses shoes go back and forth.
She silenced her phone, ready to leave, but the site of Pan's still form from the corner of her eye caused her to pause.
She lowered her head in a sense of shame, each beep of his heart monitor stabbing at her.
He didn't respond when she stood over him, her hand's hovering above his form, unsure of where to go.
Ten minutes.
Wasn't there evidence that comatose patience could sense the outward world? Hear, smell and even imagine everything around them?
Looking at him, Wendy had to doubt that theory. He was so still. So unlike the every-moving wild boy who brought so much chaos in and out of her life.
Wendy grazed her fingers over his hand where the IV pumped life into his veins.
The nurses said his dehydration had led to a severe kidney infection. He had just narrowly missed full organ failure by a day.
"Pan," she whispered. "I…I'm sorry for everything. For my part in hurting you. For not seeing Jones for what he was."
Of course she received no reply. In a way she was thankful for that. If he was awake, would he talk her out of this? Try to be some sort of voice of reason? Or would he encourage this dangerous and wayward idea?
Five minutes left.
She continued to graze his skin, counting every second until she could move.
Why did Gold give her such a specific time limit?
"You never really told me about him." she said to Pan. "You didn't tell me how dark he really was."
Wendy found the gal to turn her hand and grip his hand.
"What else did he do to you Pan? Why do you hate him so much?"
Pan's hand flinched under hers.
She would have thought the scream that followed next was his if it wasn't for the flashing lights above her head.
Times up.
Wendy stilled as chaos erupted outside, nurses yelling, running back and forth trying to make sense of what was going on.
But she knew. It was time to go.
"I'm sorry," she said hastily to Pan, missing how his fingers curled inward—trying to stop her.
Wendy stuck her head carefully from the room, having to squint through the flashing red light that bathed the upper level of Storybrooke Hospital. The alarm had summoned all the nurses and the security guards to it, giving her a chance to escape unseen.
She took a deep breath and made a beeline for the stairs that would get her on the first floor.
Her ears were ringing and her vision was blurring from the aggressive lights. Coupled with her exhaustion, it was almost enough to make her pass out. She kept losing her grip on the stair railing and had to claw at the wall to keep from barreling down.
She paused when she saw the dingy, dented door that led to the forbidden ward. It was her only exit, the quickest way to get to her family and ensure their safety.
It was ridiculous to be afraid. Sheriff Graham had looked the place up and down. There was no one in there now. It was empty and dead.
But in Wendy's mind, they were still in there.
Suddenly, the alarm stopped, the agonizing red siren paused, bathing the hospital in the sickening white light. It was now or never. She inhaled sharply and ripped open the door, the dank air sucking her in. Trapping her in as she slammed the door behind her.
Wendy squinted into the dark gray hallway, trying to control her breathing, listening intently to every sound the dank ward had to offer.
She had a ride waiting for her, that's what Mr. Gold said. They'd leave, and then she'd truly be lost. She had to move. She had to move.
She kept her palms on the wall, her hands shaking as she crept carefully down the hall.
"There's nothing here," Wendy whispered to herself. "I'm alone here, I just need to get to the exit…I just need to get out."
Her grip on the wall became more frantic as she ventured further, the hallway advancing into a darkness she'd only see in the depths of her dreams.
The space around was beginning to feel more dream-like, as if she were walking through an inky cloud, surrounded by thick air that threatened to evaporate at any moment.
Dropping her to a slow, expected death.
As the pressure changed, so did Wendy's vision. Burst of reds and greens flashed before her, overstimulating her shaken mind. She began to get disoriented, fearful that she'd gotten lost and she would never find the exit. There was no light, nothing to lead her out.
But then, a shift. A flicker of icy wind licked her cheek.
And something swiped at her hair.
Wendy shot forward, the scream stuck in the depths of her throat shooting upwards to her brain.
No no no no no no no no.
She had to leave, whether out a new exit or to her death she didn't care.
She kept running into the darkness, anemic lines of right becoming more prominent, revealing she was closer to freedom.
Or perhaps it was her own mind singing its desperation for escape.
There was no door, no natural means of escape. The hallway only seemed to get longer.
As full-blown panic began to morph into sheer delusion, instinct kicked in. Wendy searched for the source of the scarce light until she found a filthy window. She used her sleeves to wipe it frantically, her fingers outlining the trees she could just see in the distance.
She pushed at it, trying frantically to get it open as her desperation rose.
A long bead of sweat dove down her spine, her arms shaking from the excursion.
"Let me out!" she yelled, slamming her hand on the window until it was caked with a thick layer of dirt and dust.
"Please," she gasped as she began to beat on the glass again. Her only escape. "NOW!"
Wendy's palm burst through the glass, the crisp icy air embodying her freedom. She felt the blood before she felt the sting of the shards breaking into her skin but she continued to push and punch to get out of the forbidden wing.
With a final burst of adrenaline, she grabbed the edges of the window and pulled herself through the narrow space, the surrounding shrubbery scratching at her skin.
Her hips were just barely able to get through, and Wendy was certain she could feel something pulling at her ankles, trying to pull her back into the dark.
She clawed at the out wall for extra leverage, giving her just what she need to squeeze out of the window and hit the hard ground.
Wendy crawled as quickly as she could from the building, flipping onto her back to defend herself against the thing that had been lurking in the ward.
But she was met with nothing but darkness and blissful quiet. Whatever phantom that had plagued her has simply vanished.
Wendy took in a shaky breath, piecing her thoughts together bit by bit.
She had escaped the hospital, though the commotion she just made would no doubt garner unwanted attention. She had to keep moving. She had to get to her family.
She sighed and began to stand, shrieking when a piercing pain erupted though her right hand, arm and hip. She looked down in horror and saw flakes of glass sticking out of her limbs, the testament to her escape. She couldn't even flex her fingers. Each time the glass would stab at her damaged hands.
Wendy's frustration finally boiled over and she let out a great scream, one worthy of a cryptid.
"FUCK!" she yelled as loud as she could, a sharp sob breaking through her throat. For several moments she couldn't stop sobbing, couldn't be brave anymore.
The last few months had been pure Hell and she had taken all the hits, numbed herself to the consequences in an attempt to move forward. But it wasn't just her psyche that took a dive this time. It was her heart and her spirit. Killian Jones had shown her the first bout of affection she's truly felt in weeks, made her feel more human that the soulless heap she'd felt like. Pan had long damaged her spirit, but she'd nearly lost her heart completely when she saw him in that hospital room. On death's door because of her.
Now her family—her parents and dear brothers—could be in the same state because she didn't have the gall to pull the trigger on Jones. What if he was there already? Could she do it this time?
She'd never find out if she stayed here sobbing in the dirt, she decided. She wiped her eyes, taking in several calming breaths. Yeah, she'd made some misguided decisions lately, but she had the chance to at least amend one. She'd made a deal with the devil to get to London and she had to go through with it, even if she had to face Graham's wrath when she returned.
She stood with a grimace, hissing as blood ran down her arms and legs, and began limping towards the aforementioned courtyard that modeled yet another maze of horrors. But, with the thought that she was yet another step closer to getting to her family before Jones did, she limped bravely into the weave of dead vines and branches.
She began to look back at the space she just left – wanted to catch a glimpse of the monsters who forced her through that beacon of hell—but decided against it as tears began to well into her eyes.
She'd had enough of that place.
The moon acted as Wendy's only guide and only light source save a few illegally dimmed streetlights. She pulled and fought of dead thorns as she moved closer to what she could make out as a black sea.
Wendy stumbled through the rest of the shrubbery. A glance behind her proved she's put in a good half mile from the hospital—which had otherwise been silent following her escape.
Knowing her time was still extremely limited, she search around quickly to spot an older-fashioned car and a notably tall man standing at its rear.
Wendy approached the two cautiously, both throbbing limbs and paranoid suspicion bubbling through her. This could easily be a trap from Gold—a diabolical and brutally cruel scenario to tease her exhausted mind. It would surely incriminate her to a tee. She'd be sitting in Sheriff Graham's jail for the rest of her life.
But she had everything to lose, so she paused at the car, several feet from the large man.
Wendy cleared her dry throat—vaguely tasting dust—and coughed out a greeting to the man. He turned around effortlessly, his eyes evaluating her with a calm and potently disinterested scowl.
"Mr…bird?" Wendy coughed.
"Dove, actually," the man returned with a curt nod, his tone more softer than his appearance had previewed. "Miss Darling, I presume."
Wendy felt a twinge of relief, nodding.
Mr. Dove nodded and stepped around the car—oddly seeming smaller not that he was closer to Wendy. He opened the back passenger door and waved Wendy to it.
"We haven't much time, so I'm afraid we'll have to go straight to the Boston Airport,"
Wendy tensed. "We can't stop by my apartment quickly? I'm sorry, but I have to grab my cellphone charger, not to mention my passport—"
Mr. Dove moved slightly, holding out a shoulder bag thick with items.
"Mr. Gold had me gather the proper documentation. I'm afraid you'll have to figure out your toiletries in your own time."
Wendy's face paled, an unfortunate image of this perfect stranger filtering through her intimate belongings but accepted the bag quickly.
"I guess this is it," Wendy sighed, feeling a strange emptiness weigh her.
"Yes," Dove answered. "If you'll please—"
The irritating sound of a revved engine spearing towards them caused Wendy and Mr. Dove both to pause. Both shot towards the reverberating sound as a pair of headlights beamed closer to them.
Wendy sucked in a breath. If it was Graham, she was done for!
Mr. Dove tensed beside him and Wendy gasped when his hand drew into his oversized coat for what must have been a weapon.
The car – a pea-green Voltzwagon Bug – came to a screeching halt in front of them, its owner stepping out with a growl.
"Tink!" Wendy gasped.
"Miss Le Bell?"
Tink burst out of her pea-green bug, the door slamming so hard behind her Wendy feared the sound echoed into the hospital.
The blond woman glared back before her Wendy and the excessively tall man who seemed to know her.
She stopped in front of them, hands on her hips, and they both seemed to shrink under her sharp gaze.
"I knew it," Tink said, the words like acid. "I felt it in my bones. Something is wrong and you're working with…"
"It's not what you think!" Wendy jumped in.
Tink gave her an incredulous look and turned her ire back towards the excessively tall man before them.
"Mr. Dove," Tink said as a form of greeting. "Please?"
"I'm sorry, Miss Le Bell," Dove spoke evenly. "This is between Miss Darling and Mr. Gold."
"Well now it's between her and me," Tink said, stepping around to the passenger side of her car. She opened her door, begging Wendy's cooperation with her eyes.
"Wendy, please get in."
"I can't," Wendy said, though she was itching to get into Tink's warm and familiar BMW than Gold's cold and ominous Cadillac.
"Wendy, whatever's going on, whatever you did or what you're running from, associating with Mr. Gold is not the way to fix your problem," Tink said.
"I don't have a choice," Wendy said simply. "I don't have time to explain, and I know I have no right asking you for anything…" she swallowed guiltily. "Please Tink, don't say anything and don't try to stop me."
Tink shook her head. "Wendy, let me help you. Gold is the last person you can trust. The second you accept something from him, your deal never ends. Whatever's happened to you, it's not worth chaining yourself to him."
"It is if it keeps my friends and family safe," Wendy countered before frowning. "Family, I mean."
Tink sighed. "Wendy, what happened between me and Mother Superior, that had nothing to do with you."
"Of course it is!" Wendy said.
"No," Tink said as she shook her head. She bowed it next as the next thought came to her. "It's kind of like Pan said, she had it coming. I hate her lies were exposed the way they were, but in the end, I'm glad it's all over with. Yes, I'm angry, but I'm ready to move on, and I am so sorry you got hurt and mixed up with this."
Wendy struggled not to cave. Tink wouldn't dare try to use mental manipulation with her, but this still stalled her even if her words seemed sincere.
"I…" Wendy gulped, too many thoughts swarming her senses.
"I…I can't do this now," Wendy cried. "I have to go."
"Where are you going? What's going on Wendy, let me help you!"
"I can't let anyone else get hurt because of me! Please Tink, let me handle this."
"Not like this," Tink said firmly, turning her sharp gaze to Dove. "Where are you taking her? I'll take her there."
"Tink, no—" Wendy begged.
"Don't be like Pan, Wendy," Tink yelled. Wendy stiffened. "Don't push everyone away when things become too much! You have people who care about you! Let them help you. Whatever's happened, don't go at it alone."
Wendy stared at her former friend. How could one person be so sure when everything was falling around them? Was Tink right? Was she doing what Pan would do and push people away? He did do that, but there were moments when she could feel that all he wanted was to reach out. However, he disguised this need with cruelty, either due to a lack of compassion or a fear of intimacy she had yet to discover..
And now Wendy was doing the same thing.
You're just as filthy and selfish as he is.
Even though she wanted to protect Tink, she also didn't want to leave Storybrooke with a complete stranger.
Wendy turned to Dove, who was still watching their interaction quietly.
"I'd like to go with her, please,"
Dove nodded. "I can't stop you, but I will have to alert Mr. Gold of this change."
"You may do so," Wendy said, slinging the bag with her passport protectively over her shoulder.
Dove looked down at his watch. "I'd suggest you move quickly then. You're flight for London leave at 4 a.m."
Tink stiffened. "London?"
Wendy looked at her helplessly and Tink didn't press the subject further.
"Boston Airport it is."
Wendy nodded and got into Tink's warm car, putting on her seatbelt as Tink typed the directions in her phone.
Wendy looked at Dove through the rearview mirror as they drove off. He was a still as a statute, and she truly hoped he was more friend than foe. Still, she wondered what the repercussions of her decision would be with Gold. But she couldn't think of that right now. She couldn't think of anything but getting to London.
"Check the glove compartment," Tink said suddenly.
"What?"
Tink took her eyes off the road for a moment to nod at Wendy's hands and legs.
"You're bleeding. I think I have some antiseptic and gauze in my first aid kit. It's in the glove compartment."
"Oh!" Wendy said, the pain creeping back into her limbs. Her hands were blood and dirty as were her jeans. A thick, dry gash stained her entire thigh. Wendy viciously rubbed at the area with Tink's provided wet wipes, biting her lip to keep from hissing at the pain. No doubt she'd need to clean it properly when she reached London. She parents may insist she see a doctor.
Tink remained quiet as they drove but Wendy could sense her tension. Her hands gripped the steering wheel firmly, a hint of white spreading across her knuckles.
"I can't tell you much right now," Wendy said, looking out the window so she wouldn't meet Tink's eyes.
"I figured," she returned. "But…I'm willing to listen. You know that, right?"
Wendy did. And she was more than grateful. But she didn't want her to taint her with her sins. Tink deserved so much better than that.
Thankfully, Tink didn't breach the subject any further and they soon arrived at the airport with ample time to spare.
"Do you want me to walk in with you?" Tink inquired.
"I'm fine, thank you," Wendy said as she opened the door.
"Hold on," Tink said, undoing her seatbelt and turning to search through her back seat. Wendy was surprised when she pulled out one of Wendy's tote back, her cellphone charger poised at the overflowing bag's contents.
"I…"
"Told you I'd bring you some things," Tink finished, giving her a half smile. "I got you Wendy, no matter what."
Wendy hugged the bag closely to her, the familiar scent of her clothing causing tears to well in her eyes. And try as Wendy did, she couldn't stop them from flowing. She was sobbing before she could stop herself, harder than she had even at the hospital.
Tink allowed her a few moments to get started before she leaned in and wrapped her arms around her, allowing her to sob into her shoulder.
"It's okay," Tink said.
As she continued to release her anguish, Wendy thought perhaps she was right. She survived so much so far and Tink's compassion inspired her that she would survive this whole horror story.
She calmed finally, though Tink's comfort did not cease.
It was this comfort that allowed Wendy to believe—truly, truly believe—
She was not alone.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Felix never really knew what to make of August. He knew of his doomed relationship with Pan, knew it was just a bit more serious than some of his other trysts, but ultimately didn't survive Pan's chaotic mood and lifestyle.
Frankly, he wasn't fond of August. He hated how he'd hurt his father over and over again. Hated how casually he lived with the things he did.
But, he decided as they walked to Pan and Wendy's shared room, he had to have some decency if he went through all they had the last few days for Pan's sake. Pity his fondness was one-sided.
They entered the room the nurse below gave them, squinting in the black to see two empty and unmade beds.
"Maybe we're in the wrong room?"
Felix knew good and well they weren't. August knew it as well, but admitting to the sight before them would lead to a whole new wave of trouble.
Pan's bed was empty, his IVs thrown carelessly to the floor.
His window—fully opened—had let in a strangely warm and terrifying breeze in his absence.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Geez, I finally got Pan off that ship … but where is he now?
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
"A New Day: The Continuing Story of Peter Pan"
🌅CHAPTER I: THE NEXT GENERATION🌅
Okay fam, here we goooooo! The first chapter of my first (of 2) Peter Pan fanfics I wrote 20 years ago, migrated from FF.net to AO3!
Peter Pan & Wendy, now married, have just welcomed their 3rd child into the world -- a bouncing baby boy. But their happiness is soon cut short when it becomes clear that the apple does not fall far from the tree…
This is the first fanfic I ever wrote, which is actually a sequel to another fanfic I read (with the author's permission of course!). By and large this is a pretty PG story save for a chapter near the end which gets pretty spicy, which is why I have set the rating to "Mature". I'll do my best with other content warnings and tags but if anyone has any suggestions, please let me know, I am new to this!
Some mild warnings:
I wrote this 20 years ago when I and the world were 20 years younger.
I go deep into Peter Pan lore, so it helps if you have read all of JMB's Peter Pan canon, including Peter and Wendy, Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens, and The Little White Bird, but not mandatory
I wrote both my fics in the style of JMB, so if that isn't your cup of tea, well... it is what it is, lol.
The first chapter is pretty short, so you should be able to figure out right away what you're getting yourself into. Enjoy!(?)
#peter pan#peter pan fanfiction#wendy darling#peter pan and wendy#peter pan 2003#peter pan x wendy#wendy x hook#my fics#a new day: the continuing story of peter pan
15 notes
·
View notes
Note
Yes to Darling Pan (before THAT reveal which was.... 😬) though! Don't forget even with your shipping choice.... ily 🫶🏿
Omg Exactly! EXACTLY!! DarlingPan before THAT happened was perfection. This fic seriously is sooooo good and it does not follow THAT plot twist blah, there’s also two sequels. It’s one of my favorites! I reread it all the time!
Lol ily too! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
As in every other case where hospitality is extended to you by invitation, you must send your answer as soon as possible, accepting or declining the civility.
“I would like to make it clear that while I am a strict teacher, I do not only dole out punishment.” Hook knelt before her. “You have been very good, Wendy, in coming to such a mature decision. As a reward, I would like to give you something.”
#darlinghook#captain hook#wendy darling#hook x wendy#wendy x hook#peter pan#mine#fic#fic: a proper education
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jane Darling hacked her way through the thicket of rosebushes with her borrowed blade.
Her mother and father had lived here once, before she was born-- if you could call what happened in Neverland living.
Jane's mother spoke of Peter Pan with a mixture of tenderness and bitter bile, her father with cautious, wary awe.
Jane hadn't been impressed, when she met him.
Now he had gone and declared a game of war between them.
Jane didn't think he'd expected a girl to like war.
She cut down another swath of rosebushes.
She was thinking about cutting out his heart.
ao3 link
#🔍⚔️#peter pan#jane darling#classic lit fic#drabble#fanfiction#fanfic#angst#angst fic#archive of our own#neverland
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
"To All the Fics I'll Never Write"
A "what if" fic of what would happen if Peter Pan and the crew were apart of Regina's curse.
Basically, Peter has a rivalry with Wendy and an obvious crush that everyone sees but him and Wendy. Wendy is advised time and time again to stay away from him but something keeps drawing her back to him. Their story of enemies to lovers to them when the curse is lifted. Feel free to write this (Wink wink hint hint)
Peter: The football captain. He's the ring leader of the 'lost boys'. Has a rebellious streak but no one stops him because he's a star athlete. He has a one-sided rivalry with Wendy. She tutors him, much to his resentment because he doesn't like the idea of a girl knowing more than him. They also compete for their position as the town's babysitters. Because despite his tough act he's good with children. More than one occasion, parents hire both him and Wendy forcing them to interact.
Wendy: With this new messed up timeline she is now the youngest sibling. She doesn't like her brother's telling her what to do but tries to do her best to stay out of trouble. She lives with John and Michal. Although very studious she doesn't have many friends. Doesn't realize Peter thinks they're rivals. She enjoys babysitting.
Tinkerbell: The older cousin of Peter (act like siblings). She's already graduated and like Peter she gets into trouble. Known for cheating her way through school but has a secret "good" reputation that she tries to keep under wraps. Her parents kicked her out and she's being fostered by the blue fairy but they don't get along.
Felix: Co-Captain (I don't know about football). Doesn't get along with the other lost boys but stays on the team for the sense of belonging. Gets into trouble but he isn't as sneaky as Peter so he gets caught more often. More often than not he's suspended.
Tiger Lily: Head cheerleader with a good reputation. After getting tired of waiting on Peter to confess to Wendy, the lost boys suggest they get together. Creating their on and off again relationship even though neither of them like each other. She's a girl's girl and supports Wendy.
#fanfiction#fanfic#ao3#wendy darling#peter pan ouat#peter pan#peter pan x wendy#ouat#ouat felix#once upon a time#tiger lily#tinkerbell#what if#To All the Fics I'll Never Write#Once upon a time Wendy#write this#ouat fandom#ouat fanfiction#ouat fic
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
I wrote something???? TWO SOMETHINGS????
Anyway, Peter Darling ficlets for anyone who wants 'em. James/Peter:
Something Like Destiny - General Audiences
Set directly after the last scene in the book, one more moment of significance.
Fully and Ardently Loved - Explicit
Peter and James have sex for the first time. Many, many feelings occur.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bursting bubbles
James Hook x OC short scene
(overwhelmed heroine, grumpy character provides comfort, fluff, mostly just my pent-up frustration in a very different setting, slight mention of blood and weapons and panic)
My anger was vibrating through me out of control. I had enough of the lies and half-truths everyone wanted to shove down my throat.
So when James started to try and manipulate me to reveal what happened with Wendy, I didn’t even think I just pinned him against the wall. I knew I could never be able to hurt him, but just trying was satisfying in a way I couldn’t describe.
The little knife, I snatched from the kitchen counter, was the perfect extension of my arm and the sight of James’s bright red blood made me shiver.
Smee and Starkey both pulled out their guns as soon as I shoved their boss. Jamed looked almost proud before those movements, but after the guards actions his demeanor changed to angry and annoyed.
"Don’t you dare shoot her! If you do I’ll peel your skins from your faces" – he growled threateningly and the two men put their weapons away immediately, though their expressions remained worried. To be honest, before James spoke even I wasn't one hundred percent sure that I wouldn't try to seriously hurt him, but the rough sound of his sound waves pulled me back to reality.
"Shit…" - I exclaimed as my arms went numb and I dropped the knife, that reached the kitchen fork with a loud clang. "Sorry" – I looked at James regretfully, but his face didn’t seem bothered anymore. I repeated my apology to the guards as well, then I hurried out of the room to reflect on my actions.
My heartbeat was racing as I closed myself in the bathroom, trying to calm my breathing before the panic could take over.
"What the hell Willow?..." – I sighed to myself leaning to the door, frightened of myself.
I stepped up to the sink to wash my face with cold water, but deliberatley avoided to look at my reflection in the mirror above it.
Soft knocking came from the door.
"Just a minute!" – I said, forcing my eyes to my image in the mirror to make sure I was presentable again.
"Are you okay?" – came the question almost like a growl from James, as soon as I opened the bathroom door.
His closeness and investigative look caught me off guard so it took a minute to process and put on the perfectly practised smile.
"Of course. I’m so sorry about my outburst, it will never happen again I assure you" – even as I said the words, I knew this wasn’t gonna convince him. He saw the cracks already, smelled the weakness and the animal inside of him locked onto it.
"Willow" – his voice lowered dangerously which I didn’t think was possible.
"James?" – I asked, trying desperately trying to maintain my facade.
"I’m not one of the brainless idiots you live with, who can be fooled by this phony smile, so don’t disrespect me by thinking so" – his eyes softened but he seemed annoyed and with that, I dropped the smile.
His face emanated relief and pride, which I couldn’t understand, since everyone tought me to always hide my real feelings and deal with them privatley and alone. My confusion must have been visible cause he said:
"Here you don’t have to hide anything. Not with me" – and he seemed truthful and serious.
"I’m…" - I started to apologize again, but he placed a finger upon my mouth, effectively shutting me up.
"No apologies anymore either. Your feelings are not something you should feel shame about. They come with the perfect package that you are" – as he gently spoke, my heartbeat skipped a beat and my breathing quickened again. It seemed like he was waiting for confirmation that I understand, but his finger still rested on my lips so I just nodded. Then he took his hand away and I had to push away the urge, to reach for it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hi, there readers. Hope you like it. Still new to this whole writing in English thing so if you find any grammar mistakes please be patient.
#james hook#Darling#captain hook#short scenario#comfort#losing control#overwhelmed#fluff#hook fics#captain james hook#mr. smee#peter pan#disney#grumpy#grumpy x sunshine
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
I am working on a dark Peter Pan story. Where Wendy leaves because she got homesick, finds out that in her time in Neverland (approximately 2- 3 years in Neverland years) she lost her teen years being 20 (in the normal time), finds out she was pregnant with Peter's baby and has a daughter named Willow (I know Disney named her daughter Jane but it's my story), parents send all their kids to therapy and she meets a guy named Peter, has another baby but the boyfriend is convinced isn't his and Wendy cheàted due to his inability to have due to medical reasons so she returns home with gwo kids.
In Neverland, Peter lost himself. Scaring, traumatizing and even kill lost boys then hook. Peter makes up a plan to get Wendy back because in him mind she was the reason all was good and right in Neverland. Using Hook's Ship and pixi dust to make it fly after losing half the lost boys to a big mouth, cocky , stubborn , pain in Peter's butt, lost boy I named Lux (light in Latin). Leaving Peter with 7 loyal lost boys (compared to almost 50 or more lost boys he had) who mainly stay with Peter unsure what he would do and they were the oldest lost boy so they only know Peter's rule (or suffer from Stockholm syndrome). Peter finds Wendy and seeks to the nursery window (where her first found Wendy only the window was closed, he's assisted with a lost "boy" (non-binary at the moment) I named Fern, the eldest lost boy who is basically the parent lost boy/ second in camand for Peter.
When they actually do find Wendy Peter was expecting a lovely reunion instead Wendy is mad at Peter for basically ruining her life. Once alone (after Peter leaves) Fern tells Wendy everything making her change her mind and agree to go but to portect the lost boys from Peter. Bringing her children, Wendy joins the crew. Seeing the shells of the lost boys who used to wanted to only play now like zombies. She sees her past love as a murder, seeing him allows stained in blood, leaving bloody footprints and everything he touches bloody. They talk alone and Peter apologized for his crimes after knowing she knows about them just by her reaction of being alone with him. Peter holds her and she was his warmth where he made her feel so cold. She swears to only being there for the Lost boys and leaves him 💔. That's all I got so far.
1 note
·
View note
Link
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Peter Pan & Related Fandoms, Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Relationships: Wendy Darling/Captain Hook
Characters: Wendy Darling (Peter Pan), Captain Hook, Mr Darling, mrs darling
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, Daddy Issues
Series: Part 9 of Translations of My Own Fics
Summary:
Her psychoanalyst believed that she invented everything: Peter Pan, and Neverland, and Tinker Bell fai, and Captain Hook.
#peter pan#wendy darling#captain hook#james hook#captain james hook#wendy x hook#mr darling#mrs darling#my fics
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
And All Things Nice
Fandom: Peter Pan- J.M. Barrie
Author: Fahye
Summary: Girls, you know, are much too clever to fall out of their prams.
Poster's Note: This is a story about Peter Pan as a little girl, forever tilting on the edge of womanhood- never quite falling off of it. Wendy, examining the joys and perils of an endless childhood, and deciding that she does not want that. And Captain Hook, as a MILF!
0 notes
Text
Kind of embarrassed to post this because it's so short & lazy but here's an excerpt I wrote a few days ago from my current whump WIP. Just a quick little dialogue exchange between Rufio & Wendy. If this is intriguing to anyone, I might post more about it 👀
-
...there was sympathy in Wendy's eyes, but she was almost speechless. Rufio drew a hand over his face and sighed heavily, though the tight bandaging restricted his breathing almost completely.
"Why are you here anyway?"
"I wanted to say I'm sorry. I had no idea you were dying. No one would tell me what was going on."
He laughed in that way he always did when too many shots of brandy had passed his lips except there was burning, ferocious anger.
"I don't want little girl pity." Rufio snarled. Wendy sighed and looked on past the fury to see that frightened boy in unimaginable pain. She wanted to do what any caring person would. She wanted to take his hand. She wanted to kiss him again, just without the lustful intentions of the night before. But she doubted strongly that he wanted anything of the sort from her.
She was right to doubt. Rufio wanted her to leave. If not for a branded, open wound and a weakened heart, he would've pulled his blade on her right then, and thrust it forward. Then, he'd smile with contentment, watching that pathetic, puppy-like stare turn into helplessly tragic confusion as she bled before him.
A strong contrast of wants between the two.
"Look," Wendy began "If I had been there I would've helped in every way I possibly could. I know how to treat wounds and I can administer antidotes."
"I don't give two fucks what you could'a done, White Dove." If not for a sudden uprise of negative emotions stirring within her, she would've smiled at the way he used that title for her even in the midst of anger. "I'm glad it was Felix who was there and not you. I'd rather die than give in to the pity of some lonely bitch." The boy spat, though it didn't come out as strongly as he'd intended, it still was enough to cut through the heart of this sensitive girl.
"You're a cruel and wicked boy, Rufio! What a horrid thing to say to a girl who cares deeply about you!" Wendy snapped. Tears brimmed in her eyes, her pale facial complexion burning red. She got up from the bedside chair, attempted kicking it over but was only successful the third time, then finally she stormed off.
Now Rufio was finally alone. For the first few moments it felt like a relief. But burning guilt didn't hesitate to catch his arrogance...
I will write more if anyone wants me to
#fanfiction#rufio ouat#peter pan ouat#writing#wip#fic wip#rufio#wendy darling#rufio x wendy#whump#not much of it in this part though lol#also Rufio calling Wendy 'little girl' is not in refrence to#her actual age#shes the same age as him but he uses it as a berating insult
1 note
·
View note
Text
✿ Omelette ✿
A/N: A little fic based on one of the prompts I have~
Summary: Sanji finds you cooking an omelette in your underwear at an ungodly hour.
Content: Warning - my really bad attempt at writing anything outside of lil paragraph points (blz help, I have no idea what I'm doing)
Despite the scenario - it's all SFW and fluffy like dem eggs! A light dusting of pining, G/N reader. ✿
(Part 2) - (Part 3)
You had tried to sleep and ignore the rumbling in your stomach, but the harder you tried, the more you felt it, and you had finally reached your limit. If you were to be at all functional tomorrow, you needed to eat something. Only then could you try to sleep again.
Exhausted, you drag yourself from the safety and warmth of your blankets, slowly ambling towards the ship's kitchen, single-minded in your endeavour. All that mattered was appeasing your stomach, leaving you completely unaware of the sudden cold that embraced you once you had left the confines of your quarters.
Flicking on the kitchen light, you quickly gathered everything you needed, deciding that the best thing to make would be an omelette. It's an easy dish, filling, and doesn't take long to make. In other words; it was perfect!
You make quick work of prepping the eggs, seasoning to taste, even considering throwing a little cheese in there before deciding against it. It's not like you believed the myth of cheese giving people nightmares if eaten before bed, but you were so desperate to be able to sleep afterwards that you didn't want to risk it. Stranger things have happened on this ship.
The pan hisses as you pour in the eggs, sounding much louder in the empty kitchen, only amplified by the late hour.
"Don't you sass me," you grumble, "The middle of the night is a perfectly acceptable time for an omelette!"
Unbeknownst to you, you weren't the only one awake on the ship, and your late night excursion had attracted attention, clearly not having noticed any of the noise you were making.
"I thought Luffy had snuck in on a midnight raid with all the clattering," a groggy voice behind you laughs, but you are too tired and focused on cooking to even register that you had been joined by anyone. Sanji leans against the table opposite the kitchen island, fidgeting with the hem of his nightshirt, waiting for an answer that never came.
Surely you heard him, right?
"Is everything alright, darling?"
Nothing.
Terms of endearment usually prompted some kind of response, be it a dismissive laugh or an equally fond term of your own, clearly thinking they meant nothing in particular. He'd accepted pretty quickly that they wouldn't be the way to win you over, but it certainly didn't stop him using them, at least on you. The same couldn't be said about everyone else, as he was no longer vying for the affection of anyone but yourself. Sanji wondered if you'd ever noticed that.
A clumsy flip of the omelette brought him back into the moment, honestly surprised that you hadn't dropped it on the floor.
He moved his way to your side of the kitchen, round the central island toward the stovetop.
"Why are you cooking at this hhhh-" he wheezed at the end, only now seeing that you weren't in the pyjama bottoms he'd assumed you'd be wearing, but in your underwear.
He clasped one of his hands over his mouth, the other grabbing the island for support as he felt his legs begin to fail him. Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, he blurts out, "W-WHERE ARE YOUR PANTS?" as his face went fully crimson.
That finally gets your attention, but you are slow on the uptake, mind completely glazing over the fact that you had at some point gained an observer. Finally, furrowing your brows a little, you murmured a soft "What?" You knew a question was asked, but nothing else beyond that.
"Your pants, darling!" he gestures wildly, continuing to look down, knowing if that he caught sight of your bare legs again, he would lose his mind.
You stand there, pan hovering in the air away from the stove in one hand, a plate in the other, looking absolutely lost; you had completed your mission of acquiring omelette, and so your brain had decided it was no longer needed. Looking down, you see your legs and feet, wiggling your toes a little, then you look back up at the mess of a man in front of you, things finally starting to fall into place in your overtired mind.
"Oh, Sanji, what are you doing here," you ask, sweet as anything, completely ignorant to the battle he was waging internally. Once you plate your omelette, you place it on the island before putting the pan back on the stove to cool and grabbing a fork to tuck in, oblivious to Sanji frantically unbuttoning his night shirt beside you. He refuses to look directly at you until he has covered you with it, cheeks noticeably burning with how flustered he is.
"Darling, you can't do that to me," he says, almost breathless, "I am a weak, weak man; I can't handle seeing you so bare!" He manipulates your arms into the sleeves of his nightshirt, ignoring your protests when he briefly pulls the fork out of your hand in the process, before buttoning you up, doing his best to preserve your dignity.
As you feel the warm sustenance finally begin to settle in your empty stomach, you feel your brain booting back up, at least a little bit.
"Ah, shit I forgot to put on pants..." You giggle, wondering why everything was always funnier when you were tired. Taking another bite of food, you look down at your legs once again, starting to fully comprehend the situation you found yourself in. "I guess I was just too hungry." He can't help but sigh at how nonchalant you are.
Looking back up, your brain once again decides to abandon you, not from how tired you are this time, but from your eyes being met with his bare chest and abs, causing your own face to turn a charming shade of red. Sanji was always so neatly dressed, so he most you ever saw was his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves to work. It made sense that he was in good shape given his fighting ability, but it never really hit you until you saw his body tonight. There wasn't really any way to get accustomed to it, not like there was with someone like Zoro, who had his shirt off at least half the times you saw him, flashing his man tits whenever and wherever he damn well pleased.
Sanji's eyes never left you during this quiet minute, one that felt like hours, and he couldn't help but feel a hint of pride when he watched your eyes dance over his shirtless body, clearly flustered, bringing a confident smile to his face.
"Everything alright down there, sweetheart," he laughed softly.
You were clearly lost in your thoughts, it finally clicking why he was shirtless; he'd put his shirt on you. You brought a long sleeve up to your face as you dragged your eyes away, looking awkwardly to the side to your recently emptied plate. The shirt smelt like him, only without the lingering scent of cigarette smoke. It was sweet and musky. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but you felt a wave of feelings crash into you. Feelings you knew were there but had simply brushed aside, assuming they were just a result of his natural charm more than anything. But, you couldn't so easily disregard them now.
Sanji followed your gaze. "Ah, don't you worry about that, my dear," he says, grabbing the plate and bringing it to the sink, leaving you standing in a bit of a daze. "I'll take care of things here, so you go and get yourself back to bed, alright?"
"Oh, no!" You couldn't help how loud that ended up being, surprising the both of you. "You shouldn't have to clean up my mess," you say with a more regulated volume. If there's one way to get you back in the present, it's offering to do something you feel solely responsible for.
"In all fairness, darling, you shouldn't have been cooking in my kitchen in a state of undress," his cheeks started to go pink at the recent memory. He clears his throat before continuing, "Do you know how dangerous that is?" Ah, the professional chef just can't help himself when it comes to kitchen rules.
You pout slightly as you lean back against the centre island.
"Sorry, Sanji. I wasn't really with it. Too tired, too hungry..."
He makes quick work of the dirty items you had used, all while prattling on about safety and other things you probably should have listened to. Drying his hands, he makes his way back to you. It is evident you hadn't really been paying attention.
"At least promise me this," you look up at his warm, smiling face, "if you ever find yourself in this predicament again, please come and get me."
He brushes back some loose strands of hair, tucking them neatly behind your ear.
"You know that I'm always happy to cook for you, right? Whatever you want, whenever you want it."
Returning a gentle smile of your own, you nod.
"I promise."
With that, Sanji leads you out of the kitchen, plunging it back into darkness as he flicks the light off.
You reach his quarters first since he's closest to the kitchen. He pauses outside his door, hesitating for a moment. There are so many things he wanted to say to you, yet he couldn't bring himself to utter a single word.
Oblivious, you carry on toward your own room, turning back to him to wish him a good night, nearly falling over your own feet in the process, to which he smiles, letting out a soft chuckle.
"Bonne nuit, ma chère."
Guys, gals, and non-binary pals; I tried my best! This is my very first full fic ever, so if the grammar, wording, presentation, literally anything is bad; it's bc I am completely winging it! ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Dead Disco / Chapter 10
Dead Disco masterlist
Ghost/Soap/female reader
3.1k words - AO3
Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Relationship issues, anxiety, self loathing, crying. Angst. Brief mention of asshole ex. Eating related issues. Mention of prescription medication, mental illness and depressive/manic episodes. Pre established throuple. Darling is her/your own tag/warning. Excessive internal monologue.
You held onto the hot pan too long, and now you’ve been burnt.
"Look at me."
"I can't." You keep your eyes clenched tight, so tight it hurts, lungs burning inside your chest.
"Yes you can, darling. Just open your eyes." Simon's voice is soft, an entreating melody, grit and gravel smoothed out with the gentleness of his words. You get lost in it, the soft murmuring, the easy request, and when you open your eyes, he's still right in front of you, thick palm on the back of your neck, Johnny by his side. "Good girl."
"I'm sorry." You whisper, and Johnny's brows crease, his fingers brushing along your cheek.
"Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry for, darling. Ye never do."
"I didn't-" you gasp for a breath, and Johnny shifts, moving so that you're in front of him, sat between his legs, back against his chest. His hand holds yours, nestling above your breastbone.
"Breathe with me. Ye can do it."
"I didn't- I wanted to be better. Be different. I didn't want you to see." You try to explain, try to make sense of it for them. Simon's fingers intertwine with Johnny's, his other hand still firm on the back of your neck, your body cradled between them, in the space that once never existed, a space that now feels like it's been carved out just for you. Johnny pushes closer, holding you tight, and Simon leans forward, forehead touching yours, voice barely a murmur.
"We've always seen you, darling."
The floor is a fairly comfortable spot to lay.
It’s comfortable enough, you suppose, as you lay on your back with your eyes fixed on a spot along the ten-foot-high ceiling. Maybe you could paint the ceiling. With clouds. Or a night sky. That might be cool.
Voices vibrate through the flat, locked door the only thing separating you from them, Johnny’s tone pitching with increasing anxiety, Simon’s cadence soothing, and calm.
He’s calling your name. Calling you darling. Calling you anything to try to get you to come to the door.
You’re overreacting.
You’re a fool.
You close your eyes. A night sky might be cool. You could do a lot with the stars, or maybe even the milky way. Get some greens and greys and cobalt in there. Make it look like a long exposure photo. And the moon, you could certainly paint the moon. You’d have to find a ladder tall enough though. And you’d probably need help. You haven’t painted from a ladder in years, not since you did that one mural for-
“Darling.” It’s Simon. Again. And again, and again, again. Darling, darling, darling. “It’s getting late. Will you open the door?" You keep your eyes closed, but for a minute, your mind fractures, splitting in two, confusing emotions and thoughts bubbling up to the surface.
Don’t think about it. Don’t.
“No.” You croak out in a whisper. It’s quiet, but he hears it. You know he does.
“Please. I need to know you’re alright, at least.”
You held onto the hot pan too long, and now you’ve been burnt.
It’s late. The streets are probably mostly empty. You could run down them, if you wanted. You could take a train anywhere. You could take a plane, even, go on a vacation. Go somewhere nice. Go somewhere tropical, maybe get a cute rental, spend some time in the sun or by the oc-
The thoughts are rapid fire. They spill over, trying to patch up the expanding wound in your heart. They grow and twist, convincing you it’s a good idea, the best idea, to just slip away for a little bit. To go somewhere you don't have feel this, where you don't have to know this as well as you do.
Don’t think about it. Pack it up. Put it away.
Johnny’s eyes haven’t left your face. His fingers stroke from the crown of your head and hairline to your temple, your cheek. He’s staring at you like you’re something precious, like you’re a piece of gold, something marvelous he’s never seen before.
“What is it?” You ask, half asleep, drowsy in the bed. You’re still wrapped in a post orgasm haze, cocooned in the soft and sweet of their attention, affection, and Johnny only smiles, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead.
“Ye’re so special to us. Ah love ye. Did ye know that?” You shrug, ducking your face away, pressing it into his shoulder to avoid his eyes.
A wave of longing crashes over you. It swells in your heart until tears prick in your eyes, and you take a deep breath to steady yourself.
It’s so much. So much more than you ever imagined. So much more than you ever thought you could have.
“She doesn’t.” Simon says over your shoulder. His hand sits on your waist, the touch firm. Grounding. Like a tether to their world. Their love. You turn, nose pointing up towards the ceiling, looking at him through your peripheral, your fingers intertwined with Johnny’s, holding onto them both. Seeing them both.
“Tell me again.”
The TV in the living room is on.
You can hear it’s faint murmur, some movie playing on low volume, the guys undoubtedly sitting stiff on the couch, waiting for you to appear.
You stare at the dark, nearly blackened trees that you’ve painted onto canvas, long, broad brushstrokes taking up too much space, bark texturized to appear burnt, nearly dead, forest scourged by a disease or fire, you’re unsure.
“It starts to chafe us.” Us. Us, he said. Us. Him and Johnny. Right?
“It doesn’t seem fair.”
You’re unsure of everything right now. Unsure about how you should feel. Unsure about what’s happening inside your head.
“-sometimes I worry… about it being the right thing…” The more you think about it, the more you start to lose your grasp. Were those his exact words? Did he mean something else?
For the first time in a long time, you think about one of your ex's. You think about a person who made you feel so small, so much like a burden, a horrible, unwanted responsibility, all the time. You'll never have what regular people have, he said. No one will ever be able to put up with this fucking circus. No one will want this.
Was he right?
You should have gotten out. The sentiment replays over and over in between your ears, the awful, miserable doubt and fear and sadness picking away at you until you can feel yourself starting to compartmentalize it all, trying to sort it into neat little bins, trying to keep the weight that is sinking to the bottom of your soul from drowning you, trying to build a wall around your heart.
It’s not conscious. It’s like you’re not even in the driver’s seat anymore, not feeling the full effect of your emotions, not letting it in.
It’s how you felt, when you packed your bags the last time. How you felt when you checked into the hotel, like you were on autopilot. Buried beneath a mountain of feelings but enclosed in a glass cage, segregated from it all.
You should have gotten out.
“I said I was listening.”
“But I don’t want ye to listen. I want ye to talk, darling. I want ye to tell us how ye’re feeling. We can’t do this if ye’re not able to communicate.” Johnny’s voice is steady, but there’s a hint of anger behind it, a small flare just starting to light. It makes you angry, that he’s getting angry, and it churns in your stomach until you’re biting out a retort.
“I communicate just fine!”
“Do ye?” He snaps, exasperated, your head jolting backwards with wide eyes. “Because from where I’m standin’ it feels like ye’re trying to be stubborn on purpose. Like a child.”
“A child? You’re calling ME a child?” The air in their apartment is suddenly paper thin, and you hold your breath as Johnny watches you with that same, unchanged, irritated expression.
“Alright. This is over. We’re taking a break from this conversation.” Simon tells you both, fingers sliding over your shoulder, the touch meant to comfort, reassure, but you jerk away.
You eye your purse, your keys on the counter.
“I’m just gonna go home.”
“No.” He rebukes, and Johnny pales.
“No, darling. Ye just got here, and we missed ye so, so much. I’m sorry, I dinnae mean-” Johnny pleads, crestfallen, and it makes you feel worse. Like you’re failing him. Like you’re failing at this. Like you’re not good enough for it, for them. “Please?” He adds, and you wilt, silence falling over the three of you again, awkward and wrong.
“It’s alright.” Simon says. “If you want to go. I’ll take you home.”
“I can get home on my own.” You try not look at him, finding mundane details in the floor, the sink to stare at instead of their faces, resisting eye contact until Simon steps directly back into your line of sight.
“I’ll take you.” He steps closer, and like there is a magnet pulling you into his orbit, you respond, tilting your face backwards, letting him see everything. The tears. The anger and sadness. The confusion. He’s intentional with his movements, letting you anticipate everything, the movement of his hand, the bend of his body as his lips come down to press against your forehead. “Tomorrow, alright?” He asks and tells with the words, seeking permission, giving command. Tomorrow, you’ll talk. Tomorrow, you’ll get it sorted. Tomorrow, you and Johnny will apologize. And you’ll try again. Like you always do.
You nod, because the promise of tomorrow, the assurance that this hasn’t all come crashing down, is the only way any of you will be able to sleep tonight.
“Tomorrow.”
They both straighten on the couch when the door clicks open.
“Hey.” Johnny says softly, hopefully, and Simon says nothing, just watches you like you’re a wounded animal that might try to flee at any moment. On edge. Vigilant.
Your mind turns, but nothing comes out of your mouth. No response. No acknowledgement. Just empty silence that feels like a thousand pounds, all laying on top of the three of you. Suffocating you. Killing you.
You beeline for the bedroom.
Running away. You’re running away. Are you really going to run away?
The memory of the hotel haunts you, the awful, empty pit in your stomach that could have swallowed you whole, the dark curtains and dark room enveloping you in a never-ending spiral.
All you wanted was to be found. All you wanted was to be home, with them.
All you wanted was your home, the one you built, made, suffered for, with them. The one that you carved out inside your own bones to hold space for two others, not just one. The home that you completely changed your life for, the love that you believed would see you through it all.
The love that was always them first. The love that you barged in on, knocked walls down, forced yourself inside of. The love that they held for one another, before they ever held it for you.
Your head feels like it's underwater.
Did you make a mistake? Should you have sent them away that time? Should you have fought yourself harder?
The bed calls to you. It begs you to lay down in it, to burrow yourself beneath it's soft sheets, curl up on top of it's ridiculous mattress. Get lost in it. Be found in it. Let your boys curl themselves around you in it, let them kiss you softly and make you promises about how much they love you, or how they understand the way you feel.
If you close your eyes, you can almost see the future. Minutes would pass before Johnny crept inside the door, scoping it out. Doing the recon. Looking for you. His heart would soar when he saw you in the bed, his fears allayed, and he'd hold you so tight you'd think you were suffocating.
If you were lucky, Simon would come and turn your brain off. Johnny would pass you to him and he'd bring your deepest insecurities, your worries to light, dragging them out to be exorcised and vanquished, by the only men capable of doing so.
Is that what you want?
Should you have gotten out?
“There she is.” Johnny coos above you, warm palm cradling your cheek. You blink, fog encasing your mind struggling to clear, and you push yourself up onto your elbows.
“What-“
“Happened?” Simon finishes from where he kneels next to the couch, concerned eyes trained on yours, not missing a beat.
You blink. What did happen? Did-
“When was the last time ye ate something, darling?” Johnny asks, not unkindly, palm at your back to relieve the pressure from your elbows, moving you into a sitting position so he can take the spot on the couch behind you, effectively wrapping you up in his arms as Simon settles on the other side.
Shame curdles your stomach, hot embarrassment flaring in your veins. You avoid peering over Simon’s shoulder at the disarray of your kitchen, wincing when you realize he’s sitting on a pile of your dirty clothes.
“I had breakfast.” You whisper, but Simon shakes his head.
“When?”
“Yesterday.” You try to adjust, to sit more upright, but the sudden movement has your head spinning, and your palm covers your eyes, little groan in your throat.
“Easy.” Johnny soothes. Your water bottle is in his hand, and he unscrews the lid for you, lifting it to your lips. “Slow sips, darling. Not too much.”
It’s easier this way, you realize. Easier to do what’s being asked of you, easier to listen than to think. After a few sips, Johnny pulls the bottle away, and wide fingers stroke your cheek.
“This is what you were talking about. A few weeks ago.” Simon murmurs, concentrating all his focus, all his attention, on you, fingers still caressing your skin gently. Lovingly.
“I didn’t mean for it to get so bad this time. I… usually have a better handle on myself.” You try to lie, but Simon cocks his head.
“Do you?” His fingers hold up the scrap of paper, the one with your note to yourself scrawled across it.
‘You HAVE to, or you’ll regret it.’
You bite your lip, but Simon’s thumb presses into it, rolling it out from beneath your teeth, as Johnny rubs your arm, lips soft against your temple.
“I’m going to take you home. To ours.” Simon tells you slowly, each word deliberate “Johnny is going to clean up your apartment and pack you a few things for the rest of the week.” When you don’t answer, brain slow to catch up, Johnny murmurs in your hair.
“You have to agree, darling.” Simon watches, silent for a moment before he answers the unspoken question, still cradling your face with one hand.
“You can trust us.”
“Where are ye going?” Johnny asks when you appear from the bedroom, hesitant steps keeping him far enough from your body, desperation written all over his face.
“Out.” Your answer is short, sufficient. It feels like it’s coming from another person. You still think you might be underwater.
“Out? No… we need to talk and-“
“I don’t want to talk. To either of you.”
“Darling. Stop.” Simon tries to cut you off, but you turn sharply, away from them both, backpack swinging on your back.
“Ye canae run away from this, from us.” Johnny pleads. “We need to talk about it. Communicate. Like we promised.”
“Like we promised?” You hiss, sizzle of anger breaking through the ice that’s frozen in your veins. “The promise that we made to always tell each other how we’re feeling, the one that he can’t honor?” You jerk your thumb towards Simon, who tries to take a step towards you, only for you to retreat. “Don’t corner me!” you snap, and against your attempt at control, your voice breaks, sob welling in your chest.
Don’t think about it.
Don’t think about it.
“It’s alright.” His hands are palms out, cautious. It’s supposed to make him look like he’s not a threat, make him seem harmless. But he’s not harmless. This gaping hole in your heart says so. “We don’t want you to leave.” He implores. “Please. I- let me explain.”
“There’s no need. Everything is pretty clear.”
“No, it’s not.” Johnny argues. “Just, let Simon at least tell-“
“Tell me what? Tell me how it’s not fair? Does it chafe you too, Johnny? You also thinking what’s the right thing? Because it’s an us thing, right? You and him. It’s an us and me. It’s the us that I suffer for.” Your voice crests, and Johnny flinches.
“I made a mistake.” Simon whispers. “Don’t let my stupidity make you question your place in this relationship. We love you, darling. I love you.” Tears burn at the back of your eyes, and you feel the horror of the truth, the confusion about your love for them, their love for you, searing together into a snarled mess.
“If I left you, the both of you, at the end of the day, you’d still have each other. You’d still be together, and I would have nothing!”
“That’s not true. We canae exist without ye.” Johnny sounds broken, hopeless, but you blow by it, dancing around Simon to pull your prescription bottles from the kitchen cabinet by the sink.
“If I died tomorrow-“
“Do not say that.” Simon cuts you off. “Don’t ever say that.” His knuckles are white at the edge of the countertop, expression stricken, and Johnny looks horrified. They both watch you like they’re afraid of what you might say next, what you might do, and nausea pools saliva on the back of your tongue.
Don’t think about it.
You close your eyes, and search for that underwater feeling. That untouchable feeling, the boxes being packed away in your mind, and try to cling to it, try to shut up the incessant stream of doubt and loathing and everything going wrong inside your head.
They don’t need you. They have each other.
You chafe them.
Don’t think about it.
“I need…” You trail off, trying to take a deep breath. Trying to organize your thoughts. Trying to hear yourself through the noise of everything else, through the searing pain that’s ripping through your heart.
“It’s alright, darling.” Simon murmurs, encouraging you. “Tell us what you need. Whatever it is.” Johnny’s face has shifted from despondent to hopeful, eyes wide and locked onto yours, while Simon waits, his normal steadfast and patient demeanor nowhere to be found, instead he’s more anxious, more nervous than you’ve ever seen.
You close your eyes again. Your voice shakes when you finally speak.
“I need a break.”
#dead disco#peaches writes#ghost x soap x reader#soap x ghost x reader#ghost x reader x soap#female reader#john soap mactavish#simon riley#johnny mactavish#johnny mactavish x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghoap
796 notes
·
View notes
Text
limitless (satoru gojo x reader)
notes: uh. should be working on my halloween fic lmaoo. but uh. thought i'd bang this out. inspired by a conversation with @shotorus about the names we use to refer to certain characters in narration. lmao.
contains: fem! reader (the only physical trait is that reader is shorter than gojo, gojo almost uses a gendered term for reader, but is cut off), established relationship (me: coughs up blood), typical gojo antics, nickname usage (darling, honey, sweetheart, babe), part of the infinite loop fic verse
wc: around 720
"...I have a question."
You look at Gojo expectantly. Normally, he just says whatever is on his mind without pause, without filter, so you don't get why he's standing on ceremony right now. "Yeah?"
"We're dating, aren't we?" he asks.
You nearly spit out your drink. He's not wrong; for better or worse, he is your boyfriend now. The fact of it is actually kind of unbelievable when you think about it. Not just you dating Satoru Gojo. But you dating Satoru Gojo. If you had told yourself that it would have come to this ten years ago, even five years ago, you would have thought yourself a liar.
Now he's the one giving you the expectant look, his lips curved upward that little smile that always manages to get your blood boiling. The cocky bastard probably just wants you to admit it.
You consider saying 'no' just for the hell of it.
You decide not to. It feels almost as if you’re pulling teeth when you respond, “...we…are.”
Gojo’s mouth puckers and you brace yourself knowing full well that he’s about to start whining about something. There’s always something with this guy…"If we’re dating, then why am I still just 'Gojo' to you? I call you by your first name!"
"You've always called me by my first name," you dead pan.
"That's because I've always loved you!"
You roll your eyes. You know that's a lie, but you don't intend to argue with him— at least not head on because you know that it’s just going to lead to a dead end. "No, you love disregarding proper social etiquette. Or rather, you don't see the point in it."
"Oh, darling, you know me so well!" Gojo gives you a saccharine smile and you almost gag.
"Don't call me that."
He pouts. "Well, if you say I always call you by name, shouldn't I call you something else to show how special you are to me?"
"...no, actually, just my name is fine." A nickname from Gojo sounds dangerous. The thought of being called some cutesy nickname in front of everyone you know is mortifying. In fact, Gojo would do it solely to embarrass you.
So, naturally, he ignores you. "If darling is no good, what about... babe? Honey?"
"Gojo, really, you don't—"
"Sweetheart? My love? Oh, I know, I bet you'd love to be called pr—"
"Satoru."
He immediately stops talking, his mouth hanging open in stunned silence. You didn't think that that would have that much of an effect to be honest. For once, it feels like you have the upper hand. You make sure to savor the moment because you know they are far and few in between.
"Just my name is fine," you repeat. "...okay?"
He gulps and answers, "...okay."
You try not to let your mind linger on the fact that his voice just now was lower than usual. "Good. So—"
"Say it again."
You blink. "Huh."
"My name," Gojo says, his voice thick with emotion. "Say it again."
When you don't say anything he takes a step toward you, the infinite cosmos in his eyes staring you down. You feel defiant. It's not fair of him to ask you anything when he looks and sounds like this. Gojo takes another step closer and you think that if you're adamant about not giving in to him you better do it before he gets too close.
"You've... " you start and hate how breathless you sound. This bastard knows exactly what he’s doing to you. "You've hit your daily limit."
Gojo pouts and takes another step. "Well, that's not fair."
"You're not fair," you retort.
He doesn't argue and you take that as Gojo admitting that he's playing dirty. "I think you should up the limit."
You hold your ground as he takes one more step closer.. "No. You think there shouldn't be a limit."
Gojo chuckles and leans down to bridge the rest of the distance between you. He cups your cheek, bringing your face closer to him. Your breath stills as you feel his own on you and it’s damn near intoxicating. His mouth is barely touching yours and your thoughts shift from trying to keep the banter going to how the slightest movement from either of you will result in a kiss.
“You’re right,” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours. “There shouldn’t.”
#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#gojo x you#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#nikuniku fics#i'm defs not the first person to write on this topic#and i won't be the last#reader never did answer his question though#but gojo gets one usage of satoru a day#they don't roll over#but if he's a good boy he can increase his allotment#unfortunately he is never a good boy#i'm going through gojo withdrawls don't look at me#i'm not really pleased with the ending#don't know how i'm gonna fix it tho#okay i gotta get back to my halloween fic#infinite loop!verse
684 notes
·
View notes
Note
thoughts on riding tired ani?
DUDE I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ON THIS I CANT.
also i’ll do you one better and write a FIC all about it because i love this request sm
—————
next to you
pairing: rots!anakin x senator fem!reader
warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), sub!anakin, dom!reader, riding, p in v sex, penetration, pet names, teasing, reader being sexy as hell, fluff at the end, etc.
word count: 2.3k
—————
To say it had been a long day for Anakin would have been the understatement of the century. He had been watching over the younglings in the Jedi Temple all day and most of the night while the jedi masters were away on a business venture. Even Yoda being there would’ve made it better. He loved the younglings, but they were too riled up today. The extensive training the younglings required exhausted him just as much as them. Despite this, there was one thought that kept him going throughout the long work day. Coming home to you. Even though it technically wasn’t his home due to the suspicion it would raise to the other Jedis, you made it feel like his home. So you could imagine the relief he felt when the masters returned, which let him finally jump into his speeder and focus on getting home.
————
You were cooking dinner for the two of you to enjoy when you suddenly heard an engine running just outside of your guys’ apartment. You got excited at the thought of him returning home and wrapping your arms around Anakin. You took the dinner out of the sauce pan and placed it on two plates— one for you and one for him. You had made spaghetti and meatballs, which was his favorite, especially after a long day.
Suddenly, you hear the elevator open and there he was. He looked so tired to the point where he could’ve been mistaken for a zombie or even a force ghost. He had bags under his eyes and his hair was disheveled as well, yet he still looked good.
“Hey baby,” you said with a smile as he walked into the kitchen.
“Hey,” he said to you with a tired tone in his voice.
“What’s wrong?” you asked him out of concern.
“Nothing, just a long day at the temple,” he says flatly.
“I’m sorry, Ani,” you say sympathetically.
“Don’t be, my love. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. It would’ve been nice if the other masters were there,” Anakin says.
“You’re a stronger person than I am, darling,” you say with a chuckle. He lets out a weak chuckle at your comment and sits at the table, drained of any energy he may have had.
You decide to break the silence between the two of you and try to make small talk since that was all he was in the mood for right now. “I made us some dinner. It’s your favorite!” you exclaim in a chipper voice.
“Love, you shouldn’t have,” he says with a calm voice.
“I wanted to,” you say with a smile before kissing him on the lips. You noticed the expression in Anakin’s face and it was a rather sad one. “What’s wrong Ani?”
“It’s just that you worked so hard on dinner, but I’m too tired and stressed to enjoy or even eat it,” he says with defeat in his voice.
“I thought you were just tired,” you question.
“I just didn’t want you to worry about me,” he admits.
“Anakin, I’ll always worry about you whether I want to or not,” you say.
“I appreciate it, darling,” he says tiredly.
“Do you want to talk about it?” you offer.
Anakin lets a sigh escape his lips before responding. “It’s just a lot of pressure, y’know? I mean I have to go on missions, fight, and look after the younglings. It’s just a lot for me and I feel like I’m not fulfilling my role as a Jedi,” Anakin confesses.
“You expect too much of yourself, Ani. You’re an amazing Jedi and I’m so proud of you,” you say out of pure love.
“I love you so much, sweetheart,” Anakin says to you.
“I love you too. More than you know,” you say with a big smile on your face.
He didn’t know if it was just the atmosphere in the room or because of the long day he had, but he hungrily kisses you out of nowhere with desire, leaving you surprised.
“Fuck I missed you so much,” he says in a soft but tired voice.
“I missed you too,” you let out.
He stands up and pulls your legs around his hips, causing you to let out a giddy laugh. “I think I can help you with some of that stress,” you whisper into his ear.
“Oh yeah?” he challenges.
“Yeah,” you replied with a hint of lust on your face.
He takes your hint and the two of you make your way towards the bedroom. He lays you down on the mattress before he climbs on top of you. You decide to take charge and you manage to get on top of him.
“Let me take care of you Ani,” you say seductively before kissing away at his neck. He lets out the tiniest whimper and you find yourself amused. He was so needy for you and only you. “Do you want this, sweetie?” you ask in an attempt to make sure he wasn’t vulnerable enough before you did anything.
“Fuck yeah,” he lets out, which causes you to smile.
“I’m gonna treat you so well,” you say. You continue to kiss his neck before undoing his robe, letting it slide off his beautiful figure. You let it hit the floor and reach for the hem of his tunics in an attempt to tease him. You slide one of your hands underneath his garments and caress his toned stomach, causing him to let out an inaudible gasp.
“You like this, don’t you?” you ask even though you already know the answer.
“Y-Yes,” he whimpers.
“What do you want, Ani?” you coo, now sucking away at his neck once more.
“I-I want you to ride me,” he lets out, being more embarrassed than ever.
“That’s a good boy,” you whisper.
He says nothing more as you pull his tunics off him and discard them on the floor. “What’s this?” you say with a raised eyebrow as you palm his hard on through his trousers. “Fuck…” he lets out as a breathy sigh.
“Want me to take these off?” you say with a smirk.
“Maker, yes,” he replies, more desperate than ever.
You let out a chuckle at Anakin’s response and you proceed to undo his utility belt and the zipper on his pants. You glide your hands down his legs to slide his pants off him and you successfully do so.
“I can’t wait to put your beautiful cock inside me until it splits me open and raw,” you say, knowing it would turn him on and make him even needier for your cunt. Here he is now, only in his tight boxers. It was truly suffocating for him. You finally give him some mercy now by stripping him of his boxers and he couldn’t be more relieved. “This isn’t fair… You’re still wearing all of your clothes,” he complains.
“Demanding, are we?” you ask rhetorically. He nods his head once more and you can feel your pride grow.
“All you had to do was ask, Ani,” you say before slipping your long, flowy dress off your body, leaving you only in your bra and matching panties, rendering Anakin speechless. “You wanna be a good boy and help me out here?” you ask.
“Y-Yes,” he answers. He reaches for the clasp on your bra and unhooks it, letting the straps fall down your shoulders. Anakin tries to take your panties off, but he’s stopped by your hand. “Not so fast…don’t you want to feel how wet you make me?” you ask breathily.
“Maker, yes,” he lets out. You grab his wrist before making his hand trail downwards until he hits the damp part of your panties. “All for me?” he asks pathetically. “Mhm… Just for you,” you respond. You slip your panties off your wet pussy and teasingly throw them across the room. “I need you inside me already… Please,” he begs of you. “Patience, Ani,” you let out.
You reposition the two of you so that you can sit on top of him accordingly. You wanted this just as much as he did, so who were you to deny him of such pleasure? You waste no more time before sinking yourself on his erection, now feeling him inside you, which caused you to let out an unexpected moan. He lays his hands on both sides of your hip bones to give you support. You instinctively start to buck your hips while you were gliding down on his cock. Anakin starts to provide some more friction between the two of you and you can’t hold back anymore.
You start to roughly thrust while he’s inside you and you feel a pool of ecstasy wash over you and your cunt. The newfound sensation had him throwing his head back as you continued your thrusts. “H-Harder,” he whimpers. You smile at this and you comply with his request. To help you out, Anakin pushes harder into you repeatedly until he’s balls deep inside your cervix, causing you to become even more cock drunk. More moans had escaped from his lips, but he didn’t seem to care because he just needed you to ride him like there was no tomorrow and that’s exactly what you were doing.
“You’re such a good boy for me Ani… Feels so good,” you say. You felt his tip twitch inside your clenched walls, hitting your sensitive g-spot. You knew that the both of you would be nearing your climax sooner rather than later considering that both of you had slowed down each others pace. “Such a big dick, Ani… Fills me up every damn time,” you praise.
“I’m gonna cum,” he pants raggedly as you continue to animalistically bounce on him while grabbing his hips in order to hit the right angle in your needy walls. Gasps and moans fill the room at the sudden change of motion, but it didn’t matter. You can feel your climax approaching, but you had the strong urge to hold it until after Ani came. His hips start to stutter uncontrollably and his pace was slower than before. Anakin was screwed.
“I can’t hold it in much longer, baby,” he cries out like a bitch in heat.
“Then cum inside me… It always feels so good when you do,” you admit. With that, you bounce on him a few more times just in case he needs the extra sensation. You know it works because within seconds of you doing so, you feel his warm seed spill into you and you loved it. After feeling him fill you up with his cum, you finally let yourself orgasm after holding it in. Your arousal splashes both Ani’s dick and your inner thighs, causing a big mess on your guys’ bodies. Realizing he’s still inside you, he pulls out of you at once.
"That was fucking amazing,” he pants out.
“I can’t disagree with that,” you chuckle. “We should probably clean up here,” you suggest.
“Yeah we probably should,” he says with a laugh.
“I’ll be right back,” you say, getting off of him to head to the bathroom for some towels. You open the bathroom closet and grab the nearest hand towels you can find. Once you have them, you walk over to the sink to dampen them with warm water. After feeling that they are wet enough, you head back to his bedroom and sit on the bed with Anakin.
“I can clean you up if you want,” you offer, now dangling the wet rag in his face.
“That’s an offer I could never turn down,” he says tiredly with an idiotic laugh.
“God you’re such a dork, Ani,” you say jokingly as you clean him off with the towel.
“A dork who made you moan,” he corrects with a snicker.
“Ani!” you gasp as you jokingly slap his arm.
“Ouch,” he said with a grin.
“I’ll tell you what… You can clean me up if you don’t make any more stupid dad jokes,” you say jokingly.
“Deal, but I know it’ll break your heart to not hear any,” he says mockingly.
You scoff sarcastically and you hand him a new rag to clean you up with. He rubs the rag against you for a bit, collecting the mess you made. After doing so, he walks up to the hamper and places the soiled towels in. On his way back to the bed, he picks up your guys’ underwear before handing it to you. You slip the garment on your body as does he. Once you finish putting your panties on, you head over to your closet to pick something to wear to bed. You grabbed a blue, flowy nightgown that would compliment your figure. You slip the nightgown on and you feel much more comfortable in it than you did in your other dress.
“Do you want your pajamas or not?” you ask Anakin.
“Yeah, could you get me the black pajama pants from the drawer?” he replies.
“Sure thing,” you say before retrieving them from the appropriate drawer. You walk over to him and hand the garment over. He quickly changes into his pants shortly after.
“Thanks, my love,” he says admiringly before he kisses you on the lips,
“Still too tired for that dinner?” you ask. It takes him a second to answer you because of his current disheveled state, but eventually answered within a few passing seconds.
“Now that I think about it, I could eat,” he says with a grin. The two of you casually walk out of your room before entering the kitchen and sitting at the nicely set table.
“Maybe I should stay at the temple longer everyday if it means I get this reward every time I come home from a long day,” he says with a raised eyebrow.
“Who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky…” you reply with a smirk. With that being said, the two of you start eating dinner and have an enlightening conversation.
You guys could get used to this.
#anakin skywalker#anakin skywalker smut#star wars anakin#anakin smut#anakin x reader#anakin imagine#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin fanfiction#hayden christensen#star wars fandom#star wars fanfiction#revenge of the sith#slashers#horror movies#scream franchise
673 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
riverdalefashionblog
Riverdale Fashion Blog
ilevonte
Un Mundo Agradable
trailjunctionarea52
La Petite Mort
wlwdaydreamms
hopeful romantic