OKay so a new story. Im thinking it's only gonna be about ten chapters but who knows. Very dark and possessive Peter, and it takes this children's story into a very grown up world.

WARNINGS for non-con and dubious-con. Kidnapping and underage. Beware.

Now read on and review :) Thanks you lovely people


Wendy walked the halls with her head down. She kept to herself with earphones keeping the obnoxious noise of high school out of her jumbled head.

Advanced Placement Art History was her next class and she hustled through the door to find her seat in the back of the room. Music pounded in her ears, a soft and folky muse that kept her mind off the world around her.

So fill to me the parting glass…

"Wendy?"

A voice pierced her inner thoughts. She looked up to see the whole class staring back at her, along with the teacher… what was her name, Mrs. Kay, tapping her fingers on one of the front row desks.

"Yes?" She said meekly.

"Would you like to join the rest of us?" The older lady asked annoyed. Why do teachers have to do that? She wondered as the other students giggled under their breaths, their eyes still tainted on her.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Mrs. Kay I didn't realize that class had started." Wendy said looking down, turning off her music, and wrapping her earphones around her phone.

"Maybe you should pay attention more." She then mumbled something under her breath that sounded like, How is she graduating at 15?

Wendy took out her notes and wrote rapidly, the only person able to keep up with Mrs. Kay's spewing of information. The hour went quickly, as she let herself focus on the life of Van Gough, her personal favorite artist, and his beautiful technique.

The bell rang and her peers stood to escape what they believe to be a dry and boring class. But she stayed for a moment and overlooked the textbook page of Gogh's paintings, taking a moment to appreciate the fine art.

"Hey, Wendy?" His voice was the second in an hour to spin her out of her inner thoughts. She looked up to see a boy from her class look down at her, she couldn't remember his name, she'd only been here a few months.

"Er… Hello." She started to collet her things.

"Sorry about Mrs. Kay, she can be a bit sharp, but she's a really cool teacher." He sat in the desk next to her.

"I'm sure… Well, I have lunch to get to." Her hands fumbled with her notes and she tucked her pen behind her ear.

"I was just wondering if I could borrow your notes? I think I missed some things today." He smiled and looked at her with a bit of a squint.

"Are you trying to flirt with me? So I'll hand my notes over to you?" She asked sudden confidence lacing her voice. As if you're actually interested, I saw you staring at that blonde in the second row the entire class, no wonder you need my notes. She thought bitterly.

"What? Um… is it working?" No name laughed.

"No. Good day." She stood and walked to the door, shoving her earphones in her head as she turned up the volume on some metal drowning song. Wendy felt him follow her down the hall for a second before he gave up. Her friends in Portland were few and far between, but she did have her brothers.

The music led her down the hall and out the door, she walked down the wet, rain drenched street. Main had been nice to her family, they'd tried living in the country, but her mother had missed the city and energy of people. Her father had gotten a better job. And it had seemed that her brothers were fitting in with new friends in school.

But Wendy found it hard to be around people, she was smarter than most of them and, in a non-pompous way, was ready for bigger people in her life. She rounded the corner to where her younger brother hung out with his friends, she found him easily.

"John!" She called to the 14 year old hunched over a curious looking object.

"Wendy!" He laughed. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to tell you to get Michael after school." She hugged herself in the damp, early spring air.

"Yup, fine, will do." His friend handed him a joint and he took a hit nonchalantly.

"John…" She tried for a moment to be a big sister.

"Don't give me shit about this, Wendy." He shot back instantly, giving her a look that could melt flesh.

"I won't." She promised. Wendy knew how hard it had been for John ever since they left London. Which had been five years ago now, but she still missed it, and so did he. Michael was too young to remember their old life, but the older two missed it. John resented Wendy slightly too because she was going back in a year.

Wendy had been pre admitted to Cambridge University for next fall, she was moving back to the UK and was going to live with their Aunt while attending uni as a 16 year old.

"Just please remember, I'm skipping to go to the library." And without a definite answer she walked away.

The streets were pretty empty at this time of day, kids were in school, adults in work and the only others walking around were dropouts or deadbeats. So she kept her head down and music in as she walked quickly to the public library. She walked through the Elms St. door just as it started to rain. Her feet trotted up the stairs to her favorite floor and she scurried to the corner where her favorite books were hidden deep in the stacks.

Wendy dropped her backpack and sat on the rough carpet, taking in the sent of the books, both old and new. The book she had started was dog-eared and fat comfortably in her hands as she opened to where she had left off.

Page after page she sank into the world of the War of the Roses, her mind moving back in time to enrich itself in the history. Hours passed, she was comforted by the silence and the solid feeling of a large book in her hands. Sometimes she felt that books were the only solitary things in her life, they never changed or moved or left her in the dark. They were her everything.

"That's a thick book." A devilish voice broke through her silence like a dam splitting.

"What's it to you, boy?" She snapped back, annoyed at the invasion.

He smirked and sat next to her crossed leg. She looked at him with narrow eyes, he wore an old brown leather jacket, it had patches from repairs and hugged his thin form nicely. Dark green skinny jeans covered his long legs, which ended with worn, brown combat boots, and he topped it off with a simple white V-neck tee. Over all he was handsomely dressed, but his face is what interested her the most. This strange boy had a child's face, it was young and carefree, with no sign of stress or pain. And everyone has pain, that Wendy knew, but she saw no trace of anything in his bright green eyes. Lively red hair obscured her vision as he dipped his head down to look at his phone, it was loosely styled, spiked and curled as if he had just ran his hand through it.

"Just curious." He looked up at her to catch her staring at him. She blushed slightly at his knowing smirk. "Do you like tales of brave knights and daring sword fights?"

"This isn't exactly a fairytale." She said coldly, looking back at her book.

"I bet you like Fairytales, Wendy Darling."

She snapped her head up and beheld him through wide eyes. "How the hell do you know my name?"

"I know a lot about you, Ms. Darling." His face was still plastered with that smirk. "Resident brit, genius who doesn't have any friends. Leaving next year, so no interest in making any." He said nonchalantly as he kept her eye contact.

"Could you leave? Now." Her eyes tried to hold in the tears that she felt brimming, pushing to fall. Wendy wanted to say something back, to scream that she had plenty of friends, but she didn't and that was reality.

"Come on now, I'm trying to talk to you. This is how you make friends." He put a hand on her knee, she looked down at his long fingers resting on her jeans. It made her uncomfortable.

"I'm just fine without, thanks. And who are you anyways? I haven't seen you in school." Her book nudged his hand off her.

He laughed out loud. "That's cause I'm not in school, I dropped out a few years back, the moment I turned 16." Wendy's eyes went wide at his proclamation. "Oh and my name is Peter, Peter Pan."

"Well I'll have you know, Mr. Pan, that I do not wish to be graced by your delinquent company. Good day." She stood, grabbed her raincoat, her backpack and her book. As she ran a hand through her light, chestnut hair, he stood and towered next to her. Wendy took a last look at his wicked grin and spun on her heel to walk down to the stairs. She felt him follow behind her quietly. How the hell does he walk so bloody quiet? Her mind asked harshly. Night had come already and she looked out across the street, wondering if she should get a cab home or just walk.

"It was good to meet ya, Wendy." Peter's voice sounded from her left and she saw him walking backwards down the sidewalk before he turned on his heels and rushed down the street.

Wendy hailed a cab and got home safely, opening the door of the townhouse and sneaking inside. She scampered up to her room silently and raked her fingers though her long hair as she sat on the bed.

"Hey, Wendy." John's voice resonated through the silent room, startling her momentarily.

"What is it, John?"

"Where were you?" He asked sitting next to her and lying back on the bed.

"The library. I told you that earlier." She snapped, not wanting to deal with anyone right now. Peter Pan had drained her of any social effort.

"Oh, right. Sorry about that, sis." He patted her back. "You seem off, eh? What happened?" She tensed at his spot on question. Damn brothers and intuition.

"A boy teased me, he found my spot in the library and sat down and teased me. It was infuriating." She vented falling back on the bed next to him and staring at the ceiling.

"Who was it?"

"Peter Pan." She scoffed the name.

"What?" He shot up and stared at her. "Did you just say Peter Pan? As in Pan?" John's eyes were wide and almost frightened.

"Yes, what's the matter?" She asked sitting up with him. "John?"

"Do you know who Peter Pan is?" He asked frantically, taking hold of her shoulders.

"Er, no. Should I?" Wendy asked a bit worried about the look on her younger brother's face.

"Peter Pan is the leader of the most wanted gang in Portland, everybody at school is always talking about them. The Lost Boys is what they call themselves. Some people say he burned down the home for boys when he was ten and ran away, taking other orphan boys with him. They formed this group, gang type thing and now they steal and deal stuff and the law really wants them." He took in a big breath after spewing so much information.

"So what you're saying is that I talked with the leader of a gang of little boys?" She let out a little laugh.

"No, it's a network, there's the main bunch, yeah, but the guys at school said that he has up to a hundred boys under his command. They fight mostly with this other gang, that's made up of adults and stuff. They're the Pirates, and they're led by this twenty something year old named Hook…"

"Whoa, John. Stop. This is all nice and stuff, but I'm pretty sure you can't trust what those potheads say about everything." She stood and grabbed his hand ushering him from the room despite his protests. Wendy fell back on the bed and kicked her shoes off, she took off her shirt and snuggled under the covers until sleep took her.

A light tapping on her big, bay window stirred her sleep, she thought it was just the trees outside, and then she remembered that they live in a city and there are no trees. As she turned to see what was hitting her window she heard it open and recognized the clunk of feet hitting the floor.

Her heart froze as she held her breath. There was a stranger in her room and she didn't know what to do, her phone was downstairs and her parents were out of town. But John was home, but she couldn't put him in danger. So Wendy flipped the covers off and swung her feet off the side of the bed. She had her back to the intruder as she lunged for the door, with a few soft footfalls a slender hand flattened on the wood and slammed it shut before she could open it any wider.

"I would try anything else if I were you, Miss Darling." Peter's dark voice washed over her back, sending shivers down her spine.

"What the fuck?" She whispered, twisting out from under him and rushing back into the room, her back to the window.

"Can't you take a joke, Wendy? Friends joke, you know." He smirked and leaned up against the door, his arms crossed lazily as he eyed her.

"You." She pointed at him, an incredulous look crossing her face. "Boy, what the hell are you doing here? And how the hell did you get into my room or know where I live for that matter?" She spit out as her heart raced.

"I followed you." He said looking strait at her, amusement tickled his lips into a small smirk.

"Get out. Now." Her voice quavered at his intense gaze. But she moved out of the way so he could easily get out the way he came.

"If that's what you want." He chirped as he strolled to the window. But before stepping out onto the ledge he turned and stared at her.

"Why do you do that?" She asked annoyed, he blinked surprised and took a tentative step towards her.

"Do what?"

"Stare at me, it's rude." Wendy crossed her arms and stepped back until her shoulders leaned against the wall.

"I appreciate things and if I stare enough sometimes…" He closed the gap between them quickly and placed his hands on the wall behind her, his face only inches above hers. "I appreciate them enough that I'll want them so I can… appreciate them some more."

"Boy, you're scarring me. Please, leave." She looked down to see if there was room for her to squeak by him and to fresh air again instead of the minty, slightly smoke scented breath that floated across her face with each exhale from him.

"Come with me." He whispered into her ear.

"Get out."

"Come on Wendy Darling, come with me." He kissed her neck, right under her ear.

"Get out." She shoved at his chest and he stumbled backwards. "Now."

"That was a mistake, Miss Darling." He said darkly before jumping though the window and out into the night.

"You're a mistake." Was all she could think of for a comeback.

She spent that Saturday in the townhouse as her brothers went out and about with their friends, Michael was picked up for a play date and John was meeting some of the no good potheads from school in the park down the street.

Wendy took the day to get some chores done, she finished the laundry that had been sitting in the washer since her parents had left, she got all the dishes done and put away. She vacuumed and dusted the whole house, leaving her exhausted by noon.

The house was quiet and the doors were all locked before she let herself into her room and laid down on the fluffy bed. Before she could even get under the covers sleep enveloped her. The combined stress of the night before and the work of cleaning the whole townhouse had left her starved for sleep.

Her mind dreamt of the drizzles in London and the smell of lilies in the small pond by her old home, she danced on the water and sang old folk songs her grandma had taught her. Wendy slept soundly for two hours before she opened her eyes to peer at the clock.

"In bed at 2 in the afternoon on a Saturday? Oh my Miss Darling." A familiar voice trailed fear through her veins.

Wendy shot up from her pillow and stared at the boy sitting cross-legged at the foot of her bed. The window was open and the clouds covered the sky, she felt the chilled breeze rush through her room.

"What the hell, boy! Get out of my room!" She stood quickly and went to grab his shoulder, but he swatted her hand away gently.

"Do not touch me without permission." He hoisted himself up speedily, his hand twining around her wrist.

"Then get the fuck out of my room before I call the cops!" She screeched at him, ripping her hand away.

Peter smiled at her, he walked back to the window, his movements were fluid and precise, like a predator and just watching him take each step made Wendy shiver. "I'm here to offer again, Wendy. Come with me! I like you, and I think it could do you some good."

"Fuck off." She hissed waiting for him to leave. A deep horror brewed in her belly, a primal fear of this boy with no rules.

"Now, now. You don't have to be so volatile. I want you Wendy, and I get the things I want." She watched as his eyes darkened into a green storm, a dark swamp full of a creature she didn't understand.

"Too bad I'm not a thing, boy."

He took two long steps towards her, god his legs were long, and before she could react he struck her right across the face, his palm made quick contact with her cheek, causing her to stumble sideways and grope at the contacted area.

"What the fuck! Get out!" She screamed as tears started down her now swollen cheek.

"I told you I get what I want! Didn't I warn you? I gave you the chance more than I should have to come willingly." He laughed menacingly, grapping her upper arm roughly, his fingers easily wrapping around it, and dragging her through the bedroom door and into the hallway. "But since your judgment is clouded it seems I'm gonna have to just take what's mine."

"You bastard! I'm not yours!" Wendy's throat clenched as she tried not to cry or show him fear, that's what you're suppose to do right? Not give them the power. He pulled her down the stairs and whipped out his phone quickly to send a text.

"Please just let go, I won't tell anyone." Her last attempt at a plea fell on deaf ears.

"NO!" Peter's hand struck her again on the other cheek and he let go of her so she could fall into a crying heap on the ground. "Wendy, dear. Your life is going to be filled with new adventures now. With me." She felt his fingers, strangely gentle on her waist as he hoisted her up and wrapped a possessive arm around her middle, hugging her to him. Bile raised in her throat at the close contact. Sweet Jesus, no please god, no. Her inner voice prayed.

Peter's phone buzzed and before she could protest again he was pulling her to the front door.

"Make one sound and I'll come back for one of your brothers." He threatened with a smile in his voice, causing her chest to wrack with sobs unfathomed before that day.

A car was waiting and she tried to block out the screaming in her head as he opened the door and shoved her inside. That's the problem when there are people in the world that you love, others will find a way to use that against you.

And she damn well knew he had found a way.


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