Monster // Peter Pan (Robbie Kay) (OUAT)

Chapter Twenty Three

A/N

Hey guys, sorry I've been gone for like 11 days, just a few things(:

1. I made a fan account on twitter! My username is @xdreamshade. I only have like 41 followers, so follow me and if you have a fan account too I'll follow you back(:

2. Yes, I changed my wattpad name. It's now @xdreamshade bcs ToTheStageAA is stupid so

3. I need to address an issue and it's that copying my book ideas is really rude and unnecessary and needs to stop. Come up with your own ideas. That's really unfair to take mine

4. Thank you so much for 100,000 reads. That's so insane! I just hit 85,000 on my last chapter. You all are truly amazing! Plus, last chapter got 260+ comments! Let's beat that record(;

Song Recommendations:

I Will Do As Spiders Do by Koda

So High by Doja Cat

Telegraph Ave by Childish Gambino

Chapter Twenty Three

Days In Neverland: 35

His hut evinced the absolute blackness of him, with the way the ichor curtains brushed the wooden floors, and the sunglass-shade the windows provided, and the manifest presence of an obsession with pique and resentment.

Though it was late morning, and the dawn cherished anything that moved, the glass of Pan's window sieved out the splash of the sun, and his windows were just a bit more opaque than the others, a little more glooming, and harbored a deep condition of heliophobia.

I loitered by his window, the panes shading in the clearing like sunglasses. My fingers fell to the hem of my nightgown, my emotions overwrought and anxious as I began fussing with the lace lining of the dress edges. I could see Tyrell and Mason, dueling with their stick swords between the fire pit and Pan's hut. Oliver and Chester stood behind the two, Oliver's arms crossed against his ribcage, stick sword dangling from his foolhardy fingertips, already prepared if someone were too cross him. His mouth was turned into a haughty smile, sarcasm drilling it near permanently, with Chester looking just as disdainful and mischievous.

Gale stood behind the confrontation, shaking his fist so hard his arm looked like it was convulsing, spurring on the smaller boy, whose face was youthfully sculpted into a delighted grin.

And beyond there, benched on one of the square stones lining the fire pit, it's bowl bare of inferno and only riddled with ash and blackened logs, was Peter Pan, and sitting opposite of him, his face secreted beneath the hood of his cloak, was Felix.

It was the first I saw Mason engaging with the other boys, the first I saw Gale palpably ebullient, the first Oliver wasn't menacing and interfering. It was a sort of temporary solace, and suddenly I couldn't bear to be separated.

I ran barefoot across Pan's bedroom, my feet slipping along the impeccably burnished wooden floor, bounding down the hollow staircase, throwing myself out the hut door, and climbing quickly down the ladder.

"Gale!" I cried, hollering through my cupped hands.

Gale's curls bounced as he whipped his head to face me. The tightness in his lips jumped into a rapturous smile, as he flung his stick to the grass and came running toward me.

"Andria!" he shouted, picking up pace. He bent as he reached me, wrapping his lusty arms around my waist and completely sweeping me off my feet, every muscle in him pulsing with vigor. He smelled like he'd been steeping in warmed birch, and I breathed in the scent drafting from his neck.