Oneshot, unrequited peterXwendy, hints of hookXwendy
Wendy grew up.
Peter wasn't entirely forgotten, of course, and she mourned his going away every night for a full year before finally being able to sleep with the window closed again.
It was at the age of fifteen, three years after her and her brothers' neverland adventures, that she began to accept that Peter wasn't coming back, began to stop comparing every possible suitor to his childish green eyes.
Childish, that's exactly what peter was, and at fifteen, Wendy was no longer a child. In her innocence and her naiveness she had loved Peter, but now that she was older she yearned for a mature character, a man of stories, with histories, a man of substance.
On her sixteenth birthday, it was Hook who came knocking on her window, not Peter. He inquired one more time if she'd like to be "Red-Handed Jill" and she gladly accepted; as compared to neverland, London had become quite dull.
Right away, Wendy was quite taken with Captain Hook, and he with her. She'd grown up beautifully, blossoming into a classical beauty with bright eyes and long golden hair.
As a pirate, she looked like a fairytale character gone wrong, so instead of breeches and tunics, he supplied her with the most exotic, priceless dresses.
Hook made sure everything she could ever imagine was at her reach, never gave her any jobs, nothing but to tell stories, every afternoon at five on the dot, after dinner.
It was the stories, carried on the neverland winds, that brought Peter to the ship in the first place.
Arriving on deck, sword poised and ready to strike, his memory did not fail as he caught sight of her.
"Wendy?"
She had betrayed him.
"Actually," she corrected, putting years of etiquette lessons to use as she crossed her arms over her chest. "It's Jill, now. Red-Handed Jill."
And Peter plunged at her with his sword, for this was the worst type of mutiny he'd imagined.