i'm sorry mom for not being the perfect daughter you've always wanted

where the heart is;

(agents of shield // skye/ward // gen // ff.net // ao3)

// in which Skye has a child who grows up trying to deal with her parents’ seriously messed up relationship.

(part ii of home is)

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A Different Kind of Cruelty (p.1)
  • Kinda got this idea from imyourliquor-youremypoison right here on tumblr. Totally agree with you! Peter needs a badass chick.
  • And sorry about the awkward bold spots. I don't know how to fix that.
  • ---$---
  • Title: A Different Kind of Cruelty (p.1)
  • Pairing: PanxReader
  • Warnings: Cursing, abuse, talks about drugs
  • Summary: This isn't your average sweet damsel in distress that Peter seems to get stuck with. This is a kick-ass tale of pirates and fairies, punching guys, hitting jerks, and all around Neverland style adventure.
  • ---$---
  • The silent neighborhood looks peaceful. A late night dew blankets the grass; the streetlights spray soothing streams of light on the dark streets, creating a quiet and calm environment for the perfect families inhabiting each house. You scoff at your internal narration. Your family is far from perfect.
  • You run down the road in a hurry. He's never going to forgive you for this. Twenty minutes past curfew? That's inexcusable.
  • Dad is going to kill you.
  • You take a left on your street. The only house with a porch light is your own. Your bag hits your leg as you run. *Crap, crap, crap. I'm dead.*
  • You could see the police report now. "Y/N Parker was found dead in the local swamp late this afternoon. She was choked to death by her overbearing father and his perfect little wife helped hide the body."
  • No. You couldn't let that happen. So you picked up the pace and jumped your fence. The back door is always open. You slip into the house. The kitchen is silent: no one in sight. Once you make it up the stairs, you're home free!
  • You hear a gruff snore that stops you in your tracks. Dread fills your lungs as you peek into the living room. Your father reclines in his old chair, the TV playing white noise. He's asleep. There's still a chance.
  • You tiptoe behind his chair, being careful not to disturb the sacred recliner. He shifts a few times, making you jump and stop in your tracks, but you finally make it up the stairs. Unnoticed, you rush as quietly as possible into your room. With a deep, relieved breath, you change into your favorite pajamas.
  • As you're hiding the evidence of your late night excursion, your door is pushed open.
  • Dammit. You've been caught.
  • "Look, it's not what you think-" you begin. Your cover up comes to a quick stop when you see the big round blue eyes staring back at you. "Penny? What are you doing?"
  • Your half sister quietly and quickly closes your door and jumps onto your bed. "Where were you? You've been gone for hours, Y/N."
  • "You noticed?"
  • Penny nods, and that feeling of the world collapsing fills you again.
  • "Did Dad?"
  • "He almost did." Penny looks down, fiddling with your blankets. "I kept him away from your room. Told him you were working on all that late homework."
  • "Oh my god, Penny, you are a life-saver!" You trap your sister in a hug, grateful that something good came out of your father's second marriage.
  • "You're going to tell me what you were doing, right?" She watches you expectantly.
  • You were planning to tell her anyway, but you have to be careful. "Okay, you promise- on Justin Timberlake's life- that you won't tell another soul?"
  • Penny nods vigorously, crossing her heart.
  • You grab your bag and open it to show her the contents.
  • "Is that-"
  • "Shhhh!" You cover your sister's mouth before she can say it so loudly. "You have to be quiet."
  • Penny lowers her voice to a whisper. "Where did you get all that money?"
  • You shrug off the question. "Not important."
  • Truth is- it's very important. If you're caught, you could go to Juvey for a very long time.
  • That's what happens when you steal your father's medication and sell it.
  • "This is at least eight hundred dollars, Y/N!" Penny looks at you with worry. "What did you do?"
  • Penny is old enough to know that this much money doesn't come from selling lollipops or doing good deeds.
  • "Like I said, it doesn't matter. I can leave with this."
  • Penny doesn't answer. Which worries you. Usually, the problem is getting her to be quiet. "Why do you have to leave?"
  • "What's wrong, Pen? Aren't you happy? You and your mom and Dad can be a real family without the illegitimate child."
  • "What about me?" Penny demands. You're taken aback by her response. She should be all smiles. Dad won't want you punish you for looking like your mother anymore. Penny and her mom can be the perfect family they always wanted. The "problem child" would be a part of their past. And you would be getting out of a world of hurt that you didn't want to be a part of.
  • "What about you? You'll be happy, Penny."
  • She crosses her arms and stands. "You don't get it, do you?" Penny clenches her fists and starts shouting. "I want you to stay! I don't want you to leave me here!"
  • You can't believe it. "You want me to stay here where I get hit and beat and yelled at all the time? When I'm gone, Dad can have his perfect little family! You'll be happy!"
  • "You don't get it!" Penny screams. "I'm happy now! I want my sister to stay."
  • "That is so selfish!" you hiss quietly. You don't want to wake your father. "You are the perfect daughter, Penny. Dad really only wants you, and I'm not staying here with all this pain when I can leave."
  • "Fine! Leave me here alone with him!"
  • "That's the plan!"
  • "I hate you!" Penny yells, stomping out of your room. "You're not even my real sister!"
  • "Maybe that's a good thing!" you yell back.
  • Penny slams the door in your face, leaving the whole house eerily quiet.
  • "Girls?" Tatiana calls from her room. The noise is muffled through the door. "Penny, what's wrong?"
  • You can hear Penny crying in the hall, and can imagine her running to her mother's open arms. You can't hear what's being said, but you would bet all eight hundred and ninety seven dollars you have that she's spilling all of your secrets. Tatiana will call the police, but not after your dad takes "proper" disciplinary action.
  • You're not about to stick around for that.
  • You throw some extra clothes into your bag, along with your stash of money you made from odd jobs around the neighborhood. You figure that you have at least nine hundred fifty dollars in all. Your secret heap of food goes into the bag next. A bottle of syrup, half a box of nutty bars, and a bag of Cheez-Its. Not the best you could do, but you'll get more once you hit the road.
  • Now... How to get out of the house?
  • You can still hear Penny and her mother talking in the hallway, so that limits your options. The only remaining exit is your second floor window.
  • You could just jump for it, but you'd most likely break a bone or something else that isn't helpful in attaining your goal. You don't have any rope.
  • But you do have seven different blankets on your bed.
  • What? Sometimes you get really cold.
  • You quickly tie them together and throw your makeshift rope out the window. It almost touches the ground.
  • Where to tie it? It barely functions as a rope. You don't feel like trying your chances at a parachute.
  • You decide to secure it to your dresser leg. It's probably sturdy enough to support you.
  • A series of quick knocks sounds from your door, startling you. Tatiana’s concerned voice comes through the hollow wood. "Y/N? Are you getting ready for bed?"
  • "Yeah. Just... brushing my hair."
  • "Oh, okay. Well, Penny is a bit worried about you. Could we talk?"
  • You have to get her out of here. Now. "I'm really tired, Tatiana. Could we talk about this tomorrow?"
  • You can practically hear her thinking it through, trying to be the best stepmom she can be. "Alright, sweetie. Well, goodnight."
  • "Don't let the bedbugs bite," you mutter in relief, her footsteps retreating to her room.
  • You continue with your plan, changing out of your cozy pajamas and throwing them in your bag. Maybe tomorrow when you get to a hotel.
  • You've been planning this escape for years. You know exactly where you're going and just how you're going to get there. You'll travel to a town in the opposite direction of your objective and plant your phone in a hotel room. It would take you a while out of your way, but it would be worth it. Your fake I.D. would definitely come in handy on this trip.
  • Your final destination: Ann Arbor, Michigan. The only lead you have on your mom.
  • And if the whole finding your long lost mother thing doesn't work out, you'll be eighteen in two years. You just have to last that long.
  • "Y/N?"
  • Dad.
  • "Yeah?" You pull on your pajamas as quickly and quietly as you can.
  • "I heard you were yelling at Penny. Is that true?"
  • "I guess," you reply, trying to choose your words carefully without incriminating yourself. "It was a stupid argument."
  • "Penny's crying over something stupid?"
  • Oh crap. Crap, crap, crap.
  • If Penny is still crying, then you are most definitely dead.
  • "Is she?"
  • You throw your bag and all its special contents under your bed right before your father bursts through the door. You couldn't tell before, but he's pissed.
  • "You're going to apologize to Penny, you hear me?" he hisses.
  • Oh, you hear him. If you thought you could get away with it, you would tell him to take his damn apology and shove it. But you are smarter than that. So you say, "Yes, sir."
  • "Why do you always have to mess everything up?" he demands. "Why can't you be good like Penny?"
  • You just can't keep your mouth shut. "You mean why did you meet my mom before you met Tatiana?" you ask viciously. "Why was I born at all?"
  • "Shut up, you little bitch!" A sting explodes across your face, sending you to the floor. "Your mother was a slut, and if she hadn't run off and left you, you would be out of my hair!"
  • You can see Penny peeking into your room. The shock and horror written on her face is clear to see, but you think you notice something else. Something more sinister.
  • There's some relief on her face, too. Like she's thinking, I'm glad it's not me. You deserve this, though. Don't you, Y/N? Selling drugs? Running away? You know that he's right.
  • Your father kicks you in your gut, making you want to vomit. You think you might if he does it again. He grabs your hair, yelling more insults, but you aren't listening anymore. He bangs your head on the floor, and the pain explodes across your skull. He does it again.
  • And again.
  • “Leave me alone!” you scream. “Get away from me, you douchebag!”
  • “I’m what?” he cries just as loudly. “I’m what?”
  • You climb to your feet, pain radiating through your body, but you refuse to back down. “You. Are. A. Douchebag!”
  • He smacks you one more time, and continues kicking your gut. Finally, finally your vision goes black, and you lose consciousness.
  • --$--
  • You feel like you've been floating for days. Maybe you have been. Maybe you're still unconscious.
  • Maybe he finally killed you.
  • That can't be right. You feel something on your leg- something wet, sticky.
  • You peel your eyes open, expecting to wake up in a hospital bed. Expecting pain.
  • Both are suspiciously missing.
  • In their place is a grassy floor and that sticky wet feeling on your leg.
  • You turn into your back to see a group of boys at your feet. This weakens your senses and you sit up with a jerk.
  • "What do we do?" one of the boys mutters.
  • "She just appeared-"
  • "-out of thin air-"
  • "-like magic."
  • A crude looking blond with a heavy looking club parts the crowd like he's the one in charge. "Quiet! We take her to Pan."
  • "Whoa." You aren't about to be quiet and do what they say. "You're not taking me anywhere."
  • The blond smiles. "We've got a feisty one, boys!"
  • The boys erupt in laughter, and more sticky wet stuff lands on your leg. You pull your legs away from the crowd, and finally see what's there. It's syrup. Like maple syrup and pancakes. Without the pancakes.
  • That's when you see a little boy with a bottle of syrup. Your bottle of syrup.
  • A few boys are rummaging through your bag, throwing your stuff all over the sand. Your money flies through the wind.
  • "Hey!" you shout, grabbing your bag and as much of your stuff as you can. "That's mine!"
  • One of the boys has a bra around his head, and two more are finishing off your nutty bars.
  • That's it. No one steals your nutty bars.
  • "Leave me the hell alone!" you scream. You pull yourself onto your feet and stand as tall as you possibly can. You're barely at eye level with most of them. "I'm not going anywhere with you, and if you think otherwise, you're delusional."
  • The boys stare at you for a minute. The blond steps in, getting in your face and yanking your bag out of your hands. "You'll do whatever we want you to. And this is mine now."
  • He's bigger than you and he's got an army made of teenage boys. He can probably outfight you, and even if you can get away-
  • Well, figuring out where you are and how to leave isn't the problem at hand.
  • So you do the only thing you can think to do. You drive your knee into his groin and take off in the other direction.
  • The other boys have no idea what to do, and you're long gone before you hear the blond yelling at his lackeys.
  • Douchebag.
  • You don't stop running until you see a huge bush and don't think twice before diving into it. A thorny vine sticks you, and it takes all you have to not gasp in pain.
  • This isn't the worst pain you've been through. You will survive.
  • "Where'd she go?" a boy yells, stamping into the area.
  • "I thought you had eyes on her?"
  • "No, you did!"
  • They run away bickering about who's responsible for you.
  • You use the quiet time to take stock of your situation. If you wait it out long enough, you should be able to make it out of this forest and find a main road.
  • You don't even stop to think about those weird boys and their strange clothing and old fashioned weapons. Or the fact that they have weapons at all.
  • For the time being, you're alive and free. The first step to survival.