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hellfire--cult · 1 year ago

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Hook!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Inspired by the many flicks: Peter Pan (Disney, 1953), Hook (1991) and Peter Pan (2003)

WC: 15.7k

Warnings: +18 Heavy depictions of depression and loneliness, mental health, sui*cidal thoughts, a lot of angst, amnesia, lots of fluff, pining, slight enemies to lovers, kissing and sex insinuation, also you will cry.

Summary: After your Grandmother's passing, you were left with her immense wealth and her big mansion, yet your loneliness didn't let you enjoy this new life, but before you could even begin living in it, you were snatched away, into the second star to the right, by a Captain who has a hook as a right hand.

A/N: I couldn't write anything that wasn't this. I am so sorry if this hurts you, but I just couldn't stop writing. I watched the 2003 flick and the music simply inspired me and I couldn't stop myself. I hope you enjoy this One Shot, AU thing, and I hope to write requests or little one shots of this couple in the future 😘

Please support me by hitting that Reblog button! 💚

Hooked On You

You were in this situation again.

Decisions.

Loneliness consumes you in every way possible, the massive marble walls, the columns around every room in the house, or should you say Mansion. This is not something you wanted or desired, but it fell on you and now the things seem too uncontrollable for you to handle.

It had no debt, it was well kept, it was tidy, with every room filled with furniture that will collect dust in the next few months, days, hours, minutes and there was no way to stop it because you do not want to waste your inheritance in cleaning services.

But no money, no mansion, nothing would compare to the one thing that mattered the most to you. The only person to ever be in your life despite it all, the one person that took you in when your mother decided you were not good enough, the one person that cared enough for you and even loved you as her own.

Your grandmother.

This was your childhood home, the one you spent days running around, playing hide and seek with her until she couldn’t walk no more, the one where you invited friends over to your pool, the one where you stayed until you turned 21 and decided on your own place, your own space. Now, you regretted ever leaving.

You talked with your grandmother, everyday on the phone, video calling her, and you knew you had just one another. It was just you two, against everything and everyone. You never knew that one day she would decide to go, by her own accord, sleeping peacefully on her bed. She didn’t have any illness, just weakness in her bones.

And she left everything to you.

Your grandmother had investments, actions, properties, she had it all, ever since a teenager she knew how to handle money well, but it was never about that. You preferred your grandmother’s baked pies rather than a new Barbie. You preferred your grandmother’s casserole over a new car, despite her buying you one at 16. You preferred your grandmother’s company, rather than a big party with friends from school who only wanted to be your friend because they knew you had money.

But now, it was all meaningless. It’s been two months since your grandmother’s departure, and this is the first time you would step into the house after everything had finally been settled with legal papers, a cleaning service leaving everything in impeccable state for you to move in.

What are you gonna do here all by yourself?

7 bedrooms, a dining room, a living room, a playroom, a kitchen, 3 bathrooms, 3 guest bathrooms, two floors, a pool, a huge backyard, and you were all alone in it.

All alone.

You looked all over the front of the massive staircase, deciding it was time to take your suitcase upstairs and settle in. Your heart aches with the thought of selling the house, because too many memories lingered in here, way too many that now turned into sad ones.

You opted for the second master bedroom, nicely decorated with a king sized bed, a big closet on one side and a vanity on the other. A 55” inch screen TV was on the wall, right above a dresser, in front of the bed. Your grandmother seems to have wanted to make the house a little bit more modern, changing the wooden walls with paper, to creamy tones, and delicate touches of wood and gold on the ridges at the bottom. Now technology pieces could be found in every room, and in the living room.

You dropped the suitcase on the floor, and sighed heavily, putting your hand on your forehead. You kneeled to the front small pocket of it to retrieve your xanax pills, the painkillers you got after the news of your grandmother’s passing. You looked at your watch and saw it was already 7 PM, so you didn’t really care if you went to bed early.

You stood back up and a tug in your heart made you walk out of your new room, the silence of the house engulfing you entirely as you walked the hallway to the room that was on the other end, passing by all the other ones and turning corners.

Your heart was beating loudly, going into your throat as you turned the knob of the room, opening it slowly.

She never touched it.

She didn’t do anything to her room. Her bed was still in the middle of it, the massive window at front, unlike yours that had two smaller ones on each side of the TV, and hers had a balcony even. Her bed had the same comforter you always loved, a pink floral one. The smell of the room was entirely her. The perfumes were still on her vanity, as well as her vintage makeup, a small library was next to her dresser that had a flower pot on top. Night tables on each side of the bed with their respective lamps.

You walked in, listening to the wooden floor creak under your feet and you sat on the bed, springy, just like you remembered. You bit your bottom lip as the lump in your throat got bigger and bigger but the tears would not come out. They never did. Not even when you received the news, not even at the crematory, not even when they gave you the deed.

Only panic attacks. Because you had realized, you were all alone.

You had no one. No family, no friends, no lover. Not even if you had tried to rekindle your relationship with your mother, who threw you out, at only ten years old, when your grandmother didn’t send in the money on time. No friends because your trust issues forbid you of it, and no lover because the last one you had was a leech for your money.

You looked down at the small orange flask that contained the pills inside. You got up and walked towards the bathroom, retrieving a glass from one of the cabinets and filling it with water. You opened the container and looked inside.

Decisions.

Always the same critical decision.

One? Two? Three? The whole flask?

Who would miss you? Nancy? She is just an acquaintance that you go out with sometimes. Robin? Just a friend of Nancy’s, she doesn’t consider you her friend, no matter if she sends you funny videos or invites you to hang out with her at her house.

Your mother? Who tried to contact you after hearing about her Ex’s mother passing and didn’t hear anything about a deed? Hearing nothing about her share? No, she only missed the money and the things it could get her.

You opened the cap and lingered there. Loneliness is the only thing present in your mind, in your heart, in your whole being and no money can fix that. Nothing can mend it.

Yet you take one single pill out, closing the cap again and putting it inside one of the pockets of your jacket. You chug the pill with the glass of water and look at yourself in the mirror. Your grandma’s eyes, not your mother’s, not your father’s, but your grandmother’s. You sighed as you stepped out of the bathroom, looking towards the hallway that would lead to your new room.

Yet you decide to go back into your grandmother’s bedroom. You sat on the bed, memories flashing in front of your eyes as you slowly closed them, remembering the bedtime stories she would tell you for you to fall asleep, right here on her bed. You smiled as you laid down on the springy bed, legs still hanging off of it.

“Grandma, Grandma!” You jumped on her bed after running into her room with tears in your eyes. She was reading a book, propped up on the bed, pillows behind her back to keep herself comfortable and her glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. She was startled by you, and the movement you provoked on her bed.

“You scared me dear!” She giggled as your 10 year old self hid under the covers right next to her.

“I had a bad dream…” You sniffed loudly as your Grandmother put her book on her night table as well as her glasses. She pulled the covers off your face to reveal tear stained cheeks that looked up at her. “Can I sleep here?”

“Of course you can love. You know I always enjoy you sleeping here with me.” She softly replies as she scoots closer to you, and you sit up, hugging her waist and your cheek rests on her chest. She wraps her arms around you, rocking gently from side to side, but you are wide awake. There was no chance for you to fall asleep.

“Tell me that story again Grandma!” You yell excitedly, looking up at her. She shakes her head with a laugh, looking down at you.

“Again? I recall telling you that story not many nights ago, little one.” You giggled at her answer and shook your head, a smile on your lips.

“I forgot about it, I want to hear it again!” You counter back at her and she sighs, scooting you closer to her.

“Alright… Listen close, okay?” You nodded and rested your chin on her chest as you looked up at her. “When I was young, around your age, I met a boy. A boy who came right through that window.” She pointed at the huge balcony that was in front of her bed, the windows open for the summer breeze to go right in.

“Was he cute?” You asked and she glared slightly at you, making you close your mouth for her to continue.

“He was. His name was Peter. Peter Pan. He flew inside my room, telling me I needed to help him get his shadow back. I really thought this curly headed boy was crazy, until I saw a small thing, coming through the window and flying all over my head. A fairy of some sort, and her name was Tinker Bell.”

“And was she pretty?” You asked with sparkles of amazement in your eyes, and she nodded with a smile to her face.

“Really pretty. She put pixie dust on my head and Peter took me flying, all over the city to help him get his shadow back. When we couldn’t find it, he asked me if I could help him find it back in his home. Little me, looking for adventure, wanted nothing more than that, so I followed him, to the second star to the right, up in the sky.”

“Into the sky?!” You yelled in excitement and she giggled with a nod.

“Soon, I was before an island, and I met three more boys, who were all living with Peter, in the middle of the woods. They were called The Lost Boys.”

“They are lost?” Your grandma looked towards the window with a distant look on her face and shrugged at you.

“They do not remember how they got there in the first place, but they didn’t mind, because there was a game they always played, a game with a bigger man. A man that had a hook instead of a right hand, a pirate, a captain. This man wanted to capture them, but the boys all treated it as a joke, like a little game of cat and mouse.” Your eyes started feeling heavy as your grandma kept going with her story, a yawn escaping your lips.

“What’s his name Grandma?” You asked before slumber took over you, and you could hear the distant voice of your grandmother softly whispering.

“His name was Captain Hook.”

The painkiller was starting to do its effects in your body, your eyes completely heavy under your eyelids as you remembered that story.

Your grandma always had a big imagination, sometimes she read stories from books, sometimes stories from someone else, and sometimes she would invent stories, just like that one, from her own head.

Your body sank into the mattress, and you knew you would fall asleep at any time now. You were wishing you wouldn’t dream of your grandmother while you were at it, because that would make tomorrow’s decisions a lot harder.

Your skin suddenly grew goosebumps from a sudden cold that invaded the room, but maybe it was a side effect from the painkiller. Your eyelids were too heavy for you to open and you really did not care that much to do so, a little breeze never made you sick. The night had simply gone colder, that was it.

Your hazy mind was slowly drifting away, the sound of a click in the distance, as well as some heavy boots walking on the wooden floor, creaking. A dream, you were already dreaming, because then you felt the tip of something sharp, along your cheek, but it was gentle, almost a caress.

And then, silence.

Warmth. You felt so warm right now. You must have gotten into bed in the middle of your sleep, because you just remember laying flat on the mattress, but now you were cozy under some comforters, sighing with relief at the warmth under them.

You could feel the sun coming from the window. Then some chirping, every now and then, and you just wanted to lay in bed, in this comfortable bed a little while longer. The birds were singing against your window, as well as seagulls calling each other while they flew by, the hit of waves splashing soothing you and–

Seagulls?

Waves?

And the comforter… The comforter smelled like… a man’s scent.

Your eyes shot open, the first thing seeing was the wooden cabin you were in, sitting up instantly as your heart beat anxiously in your chest. The bed you were in was double sized, big, with red fur comforters and blankets, and big pillows behind you. You looked around, seeing a very old desk on one side, with a chair and some papers on top. Your breathing starts picking up a pace as you instantly shoot out from the bed to look out the window.

You screamed bloody murder as you saw the sea.

The door flew open and you looked at it to see a man, brown hair with a red bandana on his head, freckles on his face, brown eyes, with a striped shirt and brown shorts. He was gorgeous but he was a fucking stranger, so you looked around to grab the first thing you could find.

A sword.

What the actual fuck? You didn’t even hesitate to point it at him but you were doubting your sanity at this point. Did the painkiller make you hallucinate shit now? Was it because you didn’t eat? Were you still asleep? Did you take one or two? The sword was heavy in your hands, this dream being the most realistic in your whole life.

“Um–” The man put his hands up, looking out the door. “Captain! She’s awake!” You heard him yell and that’s when you heard the heavy boots walking, right on top of you, making you look up. You followed the sound, moving your head as you now heard the steps going down some stairs, thump after thump.

“Yes, I heard her alright Smee.” You heard another man talk, and he walked through the door, his big red hat first, with feathers on top, a red cloak all over him with golden details and gun belts around his waist. He raised his head up, and your breath got stuck in your throat at just how handsome this man was.

Were you this lonely that now you had a pirate fantasy of some sort?

His curly black hair falling over his shoulders, and his mustache and beard covering his face. Brown eyes that were as deep as an ocean looked back at yours, as a smirk formed on his lips, seeing the sword you were holding in your hands. Your knees slightly buckled at the sight but you kept the weapon pointed at the two men.

“Now, now… No need to be so aggressive.” He says, keeping the grin on his face and you gulped, shaking your head.

“This is just a dream anyways, at least I’m going to protect myself in it!” You yell at him and he raises an eyebrow at you, tilting his head to the side, until he finally smiles and starts laughing out loud, making you frown in a state of absolute confusion.

“Smee! She thinks she is dreaming!” He continued laughing and your brain started working again as Smee started laughing with his ‘Captain’. Where did you hear that name before? Suddenly the black haired man stopped laughing, prompting his crew mate to stop as well. He took a step towards you, getting the sword in between the both of you and your eyes widened when he raised his arm up.

A hook was placed on the blade of the sword, pushing it aside. A hook where his right hand was supposed to be.

“No need to be feisty Wendy. Not today.” He sharply says and you blinked up at him, shaking your head slowly. No, wait, this is because you remembered your Grandmother’s story before completely passing out. That’s it, that’s definitely it!

You dropped the sword and looked at the desk, seeing that the papers were actually maps. You rushed towards it, getting hold of a compass, and before Smee could snatch it away from you, you stabbed yourself with the sharp end on your arm. You yelled loudly in pain, throwing it away from you, seeing the small prick you did on your skin, with a drop of blood oozing out.

“Captain, I think she is crazy.” You hear Smee talking but you were still looking down at your arm. The pain didn’t wake you up, in fact, it felt too real. The blood is too real. The cabin is too real. The two men in the room are too real. Your head looked out of the door, which was still open, and it let you see the light shining through it.

You slowly walked towards the door, seeing the light of day coming into view, and before Smee could stop you, his Captain didn’t let him, putting his left hand up to hold his stance and let you roam out.

The smell of sea and the sound of seagulls invaded your senses, and then the sun hit your eyes as you took the final step, up on deck. On deck. On a ship. On a pirate ship. Wind blew through your hair as you put your hand over your eyes to cover from the sun, and there it was. An island, there was land, but no buildings, no cities, no houses.

You looked up towards the sails of the ship, the main mast, the foremast, the shrouds, the delicate carvings on the wooden rails of the ship. The cannons on each side, but no other crew but the two men you just met. You walked down one of the stairs that were on the side, towards the middle of the ship, and everything was just too real, everything became real.

Because it was.

Fuck, it was real. You were on a pirate ship. In a fucking pirate ship, with men that your grandmother told you about in her stories. Fictional men, or men you believed were fictional, but are real? Does this mean your grandmother met them before?

“Wendy, I thought you would remember your stay here. Guess I was wrong.” You hear the man behind you and you turn around sharply, gulping heavily, a frown present on your eyebrows.

“I don’t know who Wendy is… Please take me home…” You voice out, in a frightened voice. You didn’t know where you were, you had an idea of where you might be, but you didn’t want to believe it, not for a single second. If this is a dream, then you were sure you took more than one painkiller this time and you just simply don’t remember.

“No need to play stupid Wendy, years may have gone by for you, but you’re unmistakable.” The man with a hook as a hand walked closer to you, as you stepped back one step, then two, your heart yelling at you to run, but where? There is water all around you, and you don’t even know what’s in it. There might be sharks, and if you remember correctly, crocodiles appeared in your grandmother’s story–

Your grandmother.

Your eyes widened and you could see the captain smiling widely under the shadow of his hat, giving you a nod.

“Yes. Those sharp eyes that looked at me with pity.” He says almost with venom in his voice and that’s when it all clicked.

It was all real. Your grandmother’s story, your grandmother’s adventure with Peter Pan and the lost boys, your grandmother who got captured by Smee and brought onboard of the ship. The ship that had a captain at the steering wheel.

Captain Hook.

“Holy shit…” You manage to blurt out and Smee’s eyes widened, looking at his captain as he looked back at his crewmate with a surprised look on his face, almost amused.

“Potty mouth you turned out to have Wendy.” You inspected the man before you, and remembered the story once again. Peter Pan had come to save your grandmother, along with the lost boys, but there was a piece of the story you remembered vividly. She had told you that the Captain didn’t look evil, or that held any malice towards the boys.

He just looked lonely.

When Peter and the boys finally brought your grandmother back to the island, she had said something to them, something you cannot remember now, and you always remembered this story, it was always in the back of your head whenever you went to sleep, but now your memory was failing you.

One thing was certain.

“I am not Wendy.” You say with a glare in your eyes, even if frightened, but you held your ground. Hook simply chuckled at you incredulously, and shook his head, pointing his hook at you.

“Who are you then?”

Your mouth opened and closed again, voice leaving you completely. Your name. Why don't you remember your name? You knew it before, and now you just don’t remember it anymore. Panic was crossed on your features at the realization, and your head started to spiral, breath cutting short, and the world was simply starting to spin.

Voices started going off in your head, warning you to run away, nothing is real, that you were no one right now, that there was no way you could survive here, and the same word repeated again. Alone, alone, alone, alone, alone.

“Captain!” Smee yells as he rushes to your side as you tumble to the ground, your breathing heavy as you choke for air, clawing at your chest. You need air, but there was plenty, all around you, but the oxygen was not going into your windpipe, no matter how hard you breathed, no matter how hard you were trying, it just wouldn’t calm down.

Hook took off his hat, dropping next to you as he propped you on his left arm, and with his hook, he put the hat on your head to shield you from the sun. He knew what was happening to you. Many nights he went through this same process, clawing at his chest in the middle of his sleep, wanting something, wanting to remember, but all he got were blank memories.

“Listen to the waves, to the breeze against the sails, to the creak of the boat as it rocks on the sea. Feel it, look up at the wide sky, the clouds slowly moving, and follow them.” You did as told, trying to focus your sight on just one cloud as your chest heaved up and down, trying to regain some control over your breathing.

The cloud moved, it was moving, and you followed it with your gaze, not realizing that your focus was now on that movement rather than trying to get your breathing back at a normal pace again. Slowly, it did, and when you realized that oxygen was getting inside your lungs again, you took a deep breath in, and out again, and repeated the action, finally noticing the shade that was covering you, feeling the heavy hat on your head.

Your focus first was on Smee, who had a worried frown on his eyebrows, his deep brown eyes full of concern. He has seen these episodes on his captain, but he never required help from him, just a jug of water afterwards. So he got up and did just that, running towards the kitchen under the deck.

Your eyes landed on another pair of brown ones, now seeing his features perfectly without the hat on his head. His eyes didn’t judge you, not in the least, as he held you with his left arm and you realized the closeness of the both of you. You tried to move, feeling your throat completely dry but something sharp on your cheek stopped you. Your eyes widened when you felt the tip of his hook on the plushness of your cheek.

“If you’re not Wendy… Who are you?” He asked, sternly, yet now without any venom in his voice, as if truly believing you are not the person he claims you to be. You blinked as tears welled up in your eyes, slowly shaking your head.

“I– I don’t remember…” You quietly replied to him, and he just stared down at you, his eyes twitching in thought until you both heard Smee’s steps coming back up. He dropped on his knees next to you, handing you a jug of wood, filled with water. You sit up, and immediately chug it down, feeling the freshness of it going down your throat.

Both men looked at one another and the Captain shook his head at his crewmate, Smee letting out a sigh out of his lips, before worry crossed over his features. Hook looked at you and almost let out a small smile at how ridiculous you looked with his big hat. Too big for your head.

You finally put the jug down, and looked forward towards the island. The fact that you don’t even remember who you are, actually made your nerves calm down, even if a tiny bit.

“Where am I?” You asked them and Smee began talking.

“You’re in Neverland.” You never heard that name before, turning to look at him.

“Neverland?” There was a panging in your chest though, something that was telling you that you shouldn’t be here, that this was not your place to be. “Can you take me back home?”

At that Smee winced, looking down at the floor. The Captain sighed, making you turn your head towards him with a worried look on your face. You were not liking the reactions you were getting from them at the mention of ‘Home’. Wherever that is.

“The only way to get you there, is by flying.” He says and you were staring at him as if he was demented of some sort. “Pixie dust. It makes you fly.”

“P-Pixie dust?” You ask again, not really digesting the words you were saying because it sounded so unrealistic but at the same time they didn’t. Hook nodded at you and then glared at Smee.

“But someone! Let Tinker Bell out of her lamp because he believed she needed to spread her wings.” Smee rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s not my fault! She was very persuasive!” The brown haired man tried to defend himself and your head was going back and forth on the both of them, like a ping pong match.

“She is a fairy, and we needed her captive in case this… shit happened.” Your eyes widened at the curse coming out from the captain. Didn’t he call you a potty mouth before?

“Fairies create Pixie dust. We used hers in order to bring you here with us.” Smee continued, looking down at the floor, and the puzzle finally assembled in your head. That fairy is gone, whose name sounded familiar, but it was your way out of the island. The heavy pang in your chest from the anxiety you were feeling was almost hurting you as you gulped heavily.

“S-So…? I’m going to stay here? Forever?” You ask and look straight into the captain’s eyes. He was looking at you already, and his pupils connected with yours, feeling your anxious feelings and your worry. He shook his head and gave you a sigh.

“As far as we know Tinker Bell still thinks you are Wendy, and Wendy was a dear friend of Tinker Bell’s friend. As soon as he comes to your rescue, we’ll snatch her again.” He says too confident in himself and you scrunch up your eyebrows, looking at him.

“And I wonder how long it will take for her to fly away again.” Your snappy attitude made him stare at you as if you had grown a plant over your head as Smee let out a laugh. The Captain gave you a mocking grin with a glare and snatched the hat from your head, not caring if he messed up your hair. He put it back on and rose to his feet.

“Keep that attitude and you’ll sleep in a cell.” You scoffed and stood up as well, flicking the feather from his hat with the tip of your index finger.

“The least you can do is give me a bed to sleep in! You kidnapped me, thinking I was someone else, and now, I can’t even remember my fucking name!” You yelled at him and Smee was on his feet in a second, his eyes wide at how you were yelling at his captain.

Hook’s eyes were staring at the girl, no, the woman before him, and now he knew this wasn’t the person he was looking for, yet, your eyes were still the same, and you were at her home. How many years have passed in your time? He took a deep breath in and sighed through his nose, looking towards Smee.

“We gotta get her some clothes. Take her measurements.” That’s all the Captain says before heading back into his headquarters. Your eyes followed his retreating back before the clearing of someone’s throat snapped you out from your thoughts, making you turn around to face Smee.

“May I take your measurements?”

The night on the ship was breezy, but warm all the while. You had helped Smee with dinner, chopping up onions and potatoes as he prepared a chicken in the casserole on the metal kitchen that had logs in the oven for heat.

And you took that chance to start a conversation with the brown haired boy.

“How long have you been here?” You ask and the man freezes slightly as he continues to stir the chicken in the pot.

“A long, long while. Time doesn’t go by in Neverland.” You frowned at that, because that would mean the man before you was probably a hundred years old, the same as the Captain of the ship. You took a deep breath in to hide your nervousness, to hide the fact that that would be your destiny if you don’t get out of here.

“And you don’t remember anything from before this? Were you born here?” You ask this time, and he stills, blinking down at the chicken. You gulped, realizing you had asked the wrong question and made him uncomfortable, but before you could continue, someone else talks in the kitchen.

“Stop asking questions that you really shouldn’t care about, and try this on.” You turned around just in time to receive a bunch of fabric thrown into your face. You growled in anger, pushing it off your face to see the captain now wearing a white blouse with puffed sleeves and a few buttons up his collar. A black bandana was around his head instead of the massive hat, and a pair of black slacks and his boots were at his bottom.

You almost forgot your anger at the sight.

“What’s this?” You asked, looking at the massive pile of… clothes?

“Go and try them on, use my headquarters.” You were still dumbfounded looking at the clothes on your arms and he rolled his eyes, grabbing your shoulders to drive you out of the kitchen and into the top deck, the breeze hitting you against your skin. You looked towards where his cabin was, and next to the door of his cabin, there were two more flights of stairs that guided you to the steering wheel.

You walked up, and opened his door, closing it behind you. You looked around and saw that the swords were gone, which made you roll your eyes, and then you saw another table that replaced the desk from before. It was an antique sewing machine. You blinked at that, and looked down at your clothes.

The Captain himself made these for you?

You gulped tightly a small lump that appeared in your throat and you started undressing, looking down at your underwear, a deep blush coming into your cheeks. How long were you going to stay here? You cannot use the same panties everyday, and you cannot, not even if you dared, to make Captain Hook make you a pair. Not possible. You’ll go commando while you wash them during the day.

You began putting the clothes on yourself, and just like his but a little tighter, he made you a shirt with puffy sleeves, and then a long brown skirt that hugged you on your waist. It looked like it had layers of the fabric over it as well, making it look a little less plain. You kept your combat boots on and looked at yourself in the mirror.

How can any of this be real? It cannot be. It really cannot be, but the fabric of the clothes on you feel way too realistic, and you had a panic attack as well, which should have woken you up. Yet you didn’t. Because this wasn’t a dream at all, and you were here, wearing pirate clothing in front of a mirror. You look towards his night table and see there was a red bandana on top of it.

You grabbed onto it and copied the way the Captain had it, tight around your head and covering your forehead. You looked at yourself in the mirror, and you couldn’t help but giggle, feeling like a little child dressing up for a costume party. Your stomach growled, the smell of the chicken being cooked filling the cabin through the round window.

You walked out of the room and back into the kitchen again, where the Captain was already sitting down at the end of the table, eating a piece of bread while Smee steered the casserole, his back towards you. Hook’s eyes looked up towards you and his chewing immediately stopped. The bread fell on the plate, and he cursed under his breath for acting like this.

But you were in fact a woman on his ship, and–

“It’s that my bandana?” He asks and Smee’s head immediately snaps towards you with a worried look on his face. You never steal a Captain’s belongings, even if it’s just an apple or a pen, you never do. You shrugged and sat down on the captain’s left, who was still shooting a glare towards you.

“I wanted to have an accessory, plus it hides my greasy hair.” Smee winced at your words, looking at the back of his captain’s head to wait for his explosive reaction, but it never came. He simply sighed, shaking his head and began eating his bread again.

“You don’t take my belongings without my consent first.” Hook knew that wasn’t the rule at all. You don’t even have to ask the Captain for permission to grab something of his, but for some reason he let you. Smee’s face contorted in confusion and returned to cooking, already done as he prepared the plates.

“So like, you guys hunt and stuff?” Smee nods as he hands the captain his plate full of food.

“Yeah, we fish too, and we take water from the lake that has pure natural water from the waterfall.” Smee explains as he prepares the plate for you. He brought it for you and a small ‘thanks’ came out of your lips. After he grabbed his own plate, he sat down in front of you and at his captain’s right.

You looked around and noticed since this afternoon that there were no more crewmates, and it was just these two men in front of you, so of course questions popped in your head.

“Why are you two the only ones on this ship?” You asked as the Captain took a potato in his mouth. He glared at you and pointed at you with the knife.

“If you don’t eat in the next ten minutes, I’ll take the plate away from you.” You glared at him but began eating anyway, Smee chuckling under his breath while he ate his food. It was actually delicious, and probably Smee had always been the cook on the ship. You had a smaller portion than the other two men, but it was enough and plenty, so you finished before them.

“It seems you enjoyed it.” Smee says and you couldn’t help but blush slightly at how fast you actually ate, despite the portion being smaller. You grabbed onto your jug and took a gulp, wincing when you realized it was pure rum.

“What the fuck!” You pulled it away from your lips as quickly as possible, and the Captain choked as he tried to stifle a laugh. You glared slightly at him, with a squint of your eyes. You don’t like your food with alcohol, it is a bad mix.

“We always have dinner with Rum. Feel free to grab anything else.” Hook says and you scoff with a roll of your eyes, grimacing at the jug. Smee knew you didn’t know where the water was, so he got up, grabbed a metal jug this time from one of the shelves and headed towards a barrel with a cork at the bottom. He unplugged it for water to come out and then plugged it again.

He headed back towards you with the water, handing it to you and you shot a warm smile up at him.

“At least someone is a gentleman around here.” You say out loud, taking a sip of your water as the black haired captain rolled his eyes and then glared at his crewmate who let out a laugh before shutting up. Smee sat back down to return to his food and the Captain did the same thing. You tapped your fingers on your jug and decided you had too many questions to remain quiet. “Are you two… you know.”

Both men put the forks and the knives down, well, just one fork down because the Captain used his own hook as one, slowly turning towards you. Hook had a death stare on his face that might as well kill you on the spot and Smee’s was simply a frown out of confusion.

“If we are what?” Smee asks while taking a sip of his rum and the Captain glares at him with a shake of his head.

“You know… you’re the only ones on the ship… Two lonely men at sea–” And that made Smee spit out the alcohol from his mouth at full speed to his side. The Captain pinched the bridge of his nose to contain his laughter, not at all angry at your question because if you say it like that, well… it does sound rather compromising.

His smile under his hand did not go unnoticed by you, catching it for the first time as a genuine look on him, and you swear you could see some dimples behind the facial hair. Smee on the other hand was coughing, hitting his chest with his fist to try to get the alcohol down.

“Shit–” Smee complains as he takes your jug of water to swallow down the burning sensation in his throat. You cover your mouth to stifle your giggles and you already knew the answer, thanks to their reactions.

“No. Even if there are no women here, we are not into each other.” You heard the captain say and you thought for a second, tilting your head as he took a sip out of his own jug of rum this time.

“Then, you’re both virgins?” Now water and rum were being spat to their sides, the captain’s spit almost getting you so you scooched away in time. You couldn’t help but simply crack up at the situation, both of them red in the face which also gave away their chastity.

“You don’t simply ask people you just met if they are virgins.” Smee says as he wipes his mouth with a kitchen towel, the Captain snatching it away from his hand and wiping his own, and a glare was being sent to you from over the fabric.

For some reason, you weren’t scared of these two men. Smee seemed genuinely kind and caring, not at all what a pirate should be. Captain Hook though, even if more fierce and more scary looking, he has a kindness behind his eyes that you couldn’t quite describe. There was another feeling to him, and even if he threatens you with taking away your bed, or your food, for some reason you know he won’t do that.

“So, there are literally no women here?” You ask and Smee looks at you in thought.

“Well, if you count the Sirens.” Your face lights up at that, smiling widely, eyes glazing with excitement.

“Sirens?! You guys have Sirens?! Can we go see them?!” The Captain scoffs with a roll of his eyes as he takes a sip out of his rum before talking.

“We do, but do you want us to die? You do know what sirens do, right?” Hook asks you and you glare at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Maybe they are different here and don’t enchant men with their beautiful voices.” You retorted and he just kept looking at you, so you stared back, both of you in a contest that you didn’t know what the prize was, but if he wasn’t going to look away, you weren’t going to either. You weren’t blinking, he wasn’t blinking. His eyes twitched slightly as he stared into yours, memories flashing in his mind, and he swore not much time had passed.

But maybe that was the illusion of Neverland.

For a second you saw the other emotion glazing over his eyes and you knew you could relate to it. Loneliness was displayed in his eyes, as well as disappointment, and he was so tired. Simply tired. That made your eyes burn slightly as your chest clenched from the sudden wave of emotions and you blinked, wincing at the burn as you rubbed your eyes.

“I win.” The Captain says and you couldn’t help but giggle, still rubbing your face, because he was following your game all along. Smee raised an eyebrow as he kept an eye on his Captain, who had a small tug on the corner of his lips raised upwards. Smee cleared his throat and the other two people at the table turned to look at him.

“What should we call you?” He asked and you blinked, scratching one of your eyes still. A hand came up to grab onto your wrist, warm and soft. You stopped the rubbing and looked up to see the Captain’s left hand grabbing onto you.

“If you keep rubbing it you’re gonna pop your eye out.” You locked eyes with him, completely shocked by his sudden touch and it seems he now realized he was grabbing you, pulling away as quickly as possible, almost as if he were zapped. You cleared your throat and looked at Smee with a shrug of your shoulders.

“I don’t know…” Smee was deep in thought and the Captain suddenly spoke.

“Bella.” He says and you blinked towards your lap, scrunching up your nose, not noticing the smirk on Smee’s lips as he looked away.

“As in Isabella?” You asked and the Captain shrugged, taking a sip out of his jug.

“Sure.”

The first few nights on the ship were full of nightmares, or maybe they were memories that wanted to claw their way out of your mind and your brain just wouldn’t let them. You woke up screaming, but you always found a glass of water next to your bed, the captain’s bed.

He had decided to give you his Cabin, his headquarters, because it was more fit for a woman rather than the crew’s headquarters. They were nice and private but you were still a woman, who they unwillingly took from the comfort of her home, so you should at least be comfortable.

Smee taught you how to fish properly, getting yourself a nice piece of fish for dinner. The Captain showed you how to make a proper knot, while Smee taught you how he sets sails and puts them away. It’s hard to do while being only one person, but the Captain also helps with that.

So now, on your seventh day aboard, the Captain had decided to finally set sail around the island for you to see.

“What’s that?” You pointed at a big rock that appeared to look like a skull. Smee had gone hunting into the forest, so it was just you and the captain now, his hands on the steering wheel. You were next to him, pointing at everything you were seeing.

“Skull rock. The indigenous tribe of the island go there for mining and resources.” Your eyes widened as you looked back at him.

“There are other people?!” You asked and he nodded, then shrugged.

“They aren’t keen on outsiders, so I didn’t have the chance to meet any in my lifetime. You see the smoke?” He asks as he looks to the side of skull rock and you squint your eyes to see the small line of smoke coming from inside the woods.

“Yeah! Is that where they are?” He gave you a nod and you hummed with curiosity. “Where is Peter Pan?” His eyes widened and he turned to look at you, startling you by his intense gaze.

“How do you know about Peter?” You were now as surprised as he was. How did you know? Who was Peter Pan? Lost Boys?

“You didn’t mention him before?” You asked him, now confused as to why his name came out of your mouth in the first place. He shook his head at you, the bandana over his head today as well instead of his hat. The sun was already setting, and the orange hues were hitting his complexion just right.

Your stomach was turning uncomfortably at his gaze, but it wasn’t something that made you scared, rather, it was the other way around. It was turning because of how beautiful he just looked. The wind moving his curls with its direction, and his eyes staring at you with wonder and curiosity in them.

“I said Tinker Bell’s friend. Never said his name.” You shrugged at him, shaking your head with a worried look on your face.

“I-I really don’t know…” He stood there, scanning your frame for a second. The past few days he had let his facade of being cold towards you slip, greatly. You two had the bantering still, but it always now ended with laughter, or giggles from your part, a smile on his face as he looked at you.

That was a new problem he encountered. He couldn’t stop looking at you.

“No. I don’t know where he and his friends hide, if I knew, I would have captured Tinker Bell a while ago.” Your heart stung at that. It sounded as if he wanted you gone for a while now, and for some reason you didn’t like that thought.

“You never answered me.” You say as you look towards the island again as he maneuvered the ship to start rounding it again. His eyebrows went into the middle of his forehead in a confused frown.

“What answer?”

“Why is it just you and Smee?” You ask again as you lean against the rail of the ship, looking at the horizon. The Captain keeps silent, gripping onto the steering wheel very tightly, his knuckles turning white on his left hand. For some reason, he didn’t want to tell you at first, and he didn’t want to tell you now either, but he knew it was an unavoidable topic.

“None of us remember our names. My name is not Hook, or Smee’s, or Peter’s… Those aren’t our real names, just like yours isn’t Bella.” He started explaining and you turned around to look at him as he sailed. “I had 9 men on my ship, counting Smee. Suddenly, one by one, they started to remember their names, and the next day, they were gone.”

You stared at the floor next, your brain working as you thought about his words. They were gone… Where? Did they disappear? Were they never real? Or… Did they go back home? Your eyes widened as your head snapped towards him again, and he was already looking at you.

“So–”

“If you remember your name, you go back to your world.” He says to you, the hand still on the steering wheel as his right arm hangs on his side, his hook glinting with the sun. You felt your eyes stinging with that realization, but also because you didn’t actually remember your name. You didn’t even know if you ever would remember it again, so the pixie dust seemed like the better choice.

He was still looking at you, seeing your eyes filling up with tears, looking down at the floor. His heart clenched inside his chest and he almost winced at the new pain. He groaned slightly as he looked forward again, checking if rocks were anywhere to be seen.

“Yeah, well… I don’t think I’ll ever remember it so…” You say sadly, feeling that you were abandoning some kind of home you had to go back to, but you weren’t able to. Feeling some kind of hopelessness in your heart. The Captain put his hook around one of the handles of the Steering wheel and he stretched his left hand at you.

“Come here.” He commands and you wipe your face in case a tear falls down, and you stretch your right hand to him. He held it gently in his large palm, and you felt a shock running along your arm and towards your spine as he pulled you towards him. He positioned you in between him and the wheel, placing your right hand on one of the handles of it, taking away his hook, and then he positioned your left one, but he kept his hand over yours to help with the guiding.

Your eyes were wide at the proximity and by just how intimate this was. Your small hands wrapped around the handles, and your left one had a double grip thanks to his hand over yours. His chest was not touching you, but he was close, and you were afraid he could hear your heart beating furiously and loudly.

“Driving this in a storm is quite the trouble. The steering wheel becomes harder to move, but with calm waters it sails as if it were on butter.” He says, and his voice was so smooth on your ears, so calm and gentle, unlike the first time you two met. You suddenly felt the power you were holding, such a big machine under your fingertips, and it sailed because of you, and your guidance. Your eyes sparkled with emotion and joy as you looked forward.

“This is so beautiful…” And the Captain once again, looked down at you, at the crown of your head. He didn’t know that their soap would smell so good, it was something homemade with flowers and animal fat, yet you made it smell like a perfume. His left hand left yours and it slid down your arm to rest on your waist, not putting much pressure onto it, just enough to hold him steady behind you.

You noticed of course, a deep blush running over your cheeks. There were so many questions you wanted to ask him, but you wanted to stay like this a little bit longer. His hand on you, and his chest almost pressing against your back as he gently guided you through the waves.

Just a little bit longer.

“SO COME AND SIGN THE BOOK, JOIN UP WITH CAPTAIN HOOK!” Smee sings loudly, face flushed as he danced around you and the captain, who were laughing at him as he drunkenly sang the Captain’s theme on deck, the three of you with a lamp in the middle as stars gazed down on you.

You were clapping as you sat on a wooden box, the rum already made a buzz appear in your mind but Smee was completely plastered. It’s been a month since you were on the ship, and Smee had decided that it was time to make you a crew member. He finally sat back down with an ‘oof’ as he grabbed onto the book that was sitting next to his wooden box.

The captain’s eyes followed when Smee opened the book and grabbed onto the feather pen, already with ink, for you to sign yourself in. He handed both things to you and you looked down at the pages, seeing many names, more than 9. This happened many times then, people coming and going away.

Hook was about to tell you that there was no obligation to do so, but you grabbed the pen and signed with the name Bella under all the names. You smiled down at it, a warmth invading your chest that you didn’t feel in so long. A warmth you’ve been seeking for some time now, even before landing here.

“YOU’RE PART OF THE CREW MATEY!” Smee yells excitedly as he grabs the book and shows his Captain. You were giggling with flushed cheeks as you took another sip of your jug and when you pulled it down, the black haired man was staring at you with a kind smile to his face. “I think I’m gonna pass out…” And just like that, a big thud was heard and the Captain and you looked at Smee alarmingly, seeing him on the floor with his legs on the wooden stool still, but deep snores were coming out of his mouth, with the book on his face.

You couldn’t help but crack up laughing at the sight, and a hiccup came out of your mouth, making you cover it quickly with your free hand in complete embarrassment, but you weren’t ready to finally listen to the Captain let out a big laugh at the sound. His cheeks were flushed like yours, but he could handle his liquor a lot better.

“That was a cute noise, Bella.” He says as he takes a sip out of his jug. You glare at him only for your smile to betray you, and giggle as the kick of the rum still swirled in your head. He was staring at you, no longer being able to contain his smile towards you. For the past month, you had helped with the cooking, with the cleaning of the ship, you even ventured to set sails, climbing onto the ropes to help Steve.

And he prepared more clothes for you, even underwear, which made him blush, but it was necessary for you. He didn’t mind at all, and in fact, made him have hope that you wouldn’t disappear that easily, that you would stay longer, because they hadn’t even looked for Tinker Bell, nor you didn’t care. It seems Peter also realized you weren’t the person from years ago, and he didn’t even dare to save you.

“Hey, how did ya’ get yer’ hook?” He couldn’t help but laugh at your bad impersonation of Pirate slang, but now you were one, so you were trying to look the part.

“Third day hunting. Crocodile got me, felt amazing, like you wouldn’t believe.” He said sarcastically which made you frown in sadness and he shook his head at you. There you were again, feeling sad for him, as well as you felt happy for him when he returned from hunting, as well as you felt excited for him when he won a game of cards against Smee.

“Damn… that sounds... gorey.” Hook laughed at that with a nod. The rum was making your head swirl, but it made your inner thoughts become clearer to you. You were looking at the Captain with different eyes than a month ago, and you were hoping he was looking at you in the same way, you were yearning for it. For him. “Captain?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I give you a kiss?” His eyes scrunched a bit before widening. His stomach turned as your sight moved from his eyes to his lips, and he would be lying if he hadn’t thought of it for the past few weeks, but he didn’t want to scare you. He didn’t want you to think he was doing this because you were a woman.

You were more than that.

“You sure it isn’t a thimble?” He joked, remembering a story from a long time ago, said to him by the person that he claimed you to be. Your eyebrows furrowed at that, but a small smile appeared on your face as you scooted next to him, and you looked to your side and up to be able to look at him.

“If you want to call it that…” Your eyes were hazy with alcohol and the butterflies were flying around your belly as you slowly leaned in towards him. His breathing picked up, looking down at you with the new found feeling he had been clawing for all this time, leaning down, slowly towards you.

A loud snore interrupted you both, startling you and straightening up to look forward towards Smee, who raised his head up to look at the both of you. You were a blushing mess, even more than with the alcohol and the Captain was looking away from you, feeling embarrassment deep in his chest as well as disappointment.

“Is there more Rum?” Smee asks with a slur and you couldn’t help but crack up at that, the moment completely gone and the Captain simply smiles at you, wholeheartedly. This feeling was new, completely taking over him, and he was embracing it, because it was a happiness he hadn’t felt in way too long.

He didn’t feel lonely. For the first time in what felt like forever.

You groaned loudly as your head banged from the previous day. You had too much to drink and now you were suffering the consequences. You laughed sleepily, knowing Smee was having it worse most likely. You got up from the bed, stretching your arms only for them to hit the top of a… ceiling?

You scrunch your face and slowly open your eyes, noticing you were in some underground room? You looked all around, panic setting in, just like a month ago as you walked all around the small area.

You heard a tinking noise, like little bells ringing, and then you saw it, a light flying towards you and when it finally stopped right on your face, you saw her. Small, little, with wings on her back.

Tinker Bell.

“She’s awake! Peter!” You heard a kid yell and when you turned around, going down a slide and into the room appeared three boys, all dressed with fur made clothes, and some accessories. They all stood before you, and you can see they looked like they were 11 or 12 years old.

“Hi! I’m Pockets!” The boy with a bowl cut greeted you. “But I bet you remember me!” You frowned at that and then the other two came forward.

“I’m Ace!” The boy with a slingshot in his hand said while the other one, a little bit more snarky with attitude, rolled his eyes.

“I’m Latchboy.” The black haired kid said. You were completely shocked as to where you were, but you couldn’t help the tugging feeling of longing. You weren’t supposed to be here, you didn’t want to be here, but at the same time, you did.

“I’m– Bella.” You said and the boys frowned, looking at each other and pointing at you.

“You aren’t Wendy?” You shook your head at them and finally, the last boy came in, but not sliding in like the rest, but flying from the hole of the slide and into the room. His curly hair with a green cap on top and green suit as he lowered himself down in front of you.

“What do you mean you’re not Wendy?” He asked with an angered frown to his face. You squint your eyes as you looked at the boy, tilting your head slightly in thought.

“Peter?” You asked and his eyes widened, looking at all the boys around him. You heard the bells ringing again as Tinker Bell stood on Peter’s right shoulder.

“I know you warned us Tink, but she just said my name without introducing myself!” The little bells sounded angry as the yellow glow turned red on Peter’s shoulder. He shook his head and gave her a wave to fly away. “Don’t mind her, but how do you know my name if you aren’t Wendy?”

“I– I don’t know, I don’t remember my real name either.” You said to the boys and they all sighed looking at one another. You were fidgety, wanting to return to your ship, to your new home, to your new family. “Why are you all looking for Wendy so badly?”

“I just…” Peter was looking down with tears in his eyes as he rubbed them gently. “Wendy promised us, all of us, that she would take us home with her. But one day she was just gone. When I went to look for her at her home, she wasn’t there anymore.” You were confused at that, and you realized that this Wendy must have remembered her name, and she couldn’t fulfill her promise. You sighed as you looked at all the boys' dejected faces.

“She was going to be our new mother.” The three other boys said in unison. Something stirred inside of you, and it was a tight tug to your heartstrings. For some reason, you couldn’t help but feel like these kids needed you, that these kids right now needed someone to hold them.

So that’s what you did, you opened your arms to welcome them all into a tight hug. You felt your tears well up as you rubbed their heads gently as they hugged you. The sorrow you were feeling in your chest just appeared like a hole, carving itself in.

You wished you knew where your previous home was, but you cannot promise them what Wendy had, but you can try to make them feel better. You pulled them away and got to eye level with them.

“Do you guys want to hear a story?” And they all cheered at that, going towards their beds as you began telling them a story about a man, who was super strong and that had the ability to fly like Peter but with no Pixie Dust. You don’t really know if you were inventing the story or if it was a distant memory, but you could invent things here and there.

Then, you cooked Dinner for them.

Afterwards you helped them get into their pajamas.

And then, you were asleep with the whole group.

The next day, you cooked breakfast for them as they told you stories about their adventures and how the natives were really nice to them for helping them with some hunting or construction.

“Bella!” Peter called you, guiding you up from the hidden place, and for the first time you could smell the fresh air, seeing that their home was hidden under a big tree. “Do you know how to fly?” He asks you and you raise an eyebrow up, looking at him.

“No…” He smiles at you, his eyes almost closing by how wide he was smiling and he suddenly hovers up in the air, you watching with fascination as he flies around you.

“It’s easy! You just need Faith, trust and pixie dust! Just think of happy thoughts!” He says while pretending to swim in the air and you giggle at his antics. Your eyes widened when you heard a distant yell, a very recognizable one and your head whipped to look for it.

It was Smee, he was calling out to you. Your family… Your ship. The Captain.

“You’re already leaving?” You turned to see Peter, now standing in front of you, and your eyes filled with tears as you stared at him. You crouched down, rubbing his cheek gently.

“Yes, but I’ll be here, on the ship…”

“But if you don’t? Will you leave forever?” Your eyes widened at that, feeling the emptiness open in your chest again and you shook your head wildly at that.

“No, no… If I ever disappear, ask… Ask Captain Hook, he knows where I am, where I might be… So I beg you, to look for me, all of you.” You say to the small boy who only gave you a small smile and a nod. He instantly dipped back into the small hole, disappearing under the tree.

Your breathing picked up as you turned and followed Smee’s voice, coming loudly from inside the forest, almost desperate. Your heart was banging in your chest, thinking about him but also, thinking about your Captain, about his brown eyes, about his kindness.

“BELLA!” Smee yelled as he saw you running towards him. His under eyes were filled with bags from the lack of sleep, looking everywhere for you alongside Hook, but he finally saw you alive and well, taking you into his arms as you both collided together.

“I’m so sorry!” You yelled with tears streaming down your face, and he shook his head as he hugged you tightly, his own eyes burning from the tears forming in his eyes.

“No! Don’t be sorry! Where were you!?” He asked, pulling away to look at you, hands on your shoulders as he looked at you.

“Peter and the lost boys! They must have sneaked in and–”

“The captain is on the ship!” He almost yells, desperately and you knew you had to return to him. You deeply wanted to return to him. You turned to start running but little bells ringing filled your ears as you saw a small light flying towards you at high speed.

“Tink!” You yelled and Smee’s eyes widened as the fairy flew all around you, pixie dust falling on your head and your body. You coughed slightly but as soon as you saw her, she flew away. You turned to Smee and nodded at him to start running. He was looking at you worriedly but followed you to go towards the small boat he docked at the shore.

You needed to get back to him, your heart on your throat as the memories with him filled your mind, the laughter, the stories about how he played with Peter and the Lost boys, yesterday night when he was leaning towards you with longing in his eyes that resembled the one that was in your heart.

“BELLA!” You heard Smee yell and when you turned around, you didn’t see him at your eye level, but below you. Your eyes widened as you looked down towards the floor, which was a few feet from your body, floating in the air. You screamed and almost fell to the ground, wobbling mid air.

Your eyes fixed forward, and you could see the flag at the very top of the ship, far away. You took a deep breath in, feeling your body as light as a feather, as the yearning became stronger each second you floated, each second you inched closer to the ship, each time you remembered the Captain’s eyes.

Said Captain was pacing back and forth on the deck, his long hair now tied with his bandana in a low ponytail, his left hand running over his face as the panic from waking up yesterday and not finding you in his bed seeped through his pores. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to believe you remembered your name.

He cannot even begin to explain the hole that his chest cavity was beginning to form. What is he going to do with you gone? This is not something he had planned, the feelings that you brought in this ship, within him, were not something that he ever thought of happening before.

He raised his head up and his eyes widened when he saw a figure flying towards the ship. It wasn’t a small frame, not a child’s. His heart wanted to come out of his chest as he saw you flying towards him, clumsily, but still flying towards the ship. He immediately spread his arms, moving forward as you came closer, his eyebrows pinched into a frown with worry, with surprise, with happiness.

You smiled widely at seeing him, lowering yourself as you flew, right into his arms, your own wrapping around his waist as your feet touched the wooden deck. Your tears were slipping out of your eyes as he closed his arms around your frame, making sure his hook doesn’t prick you or hurt you, but his left hand was splayed around your back, pushing you close against him as if you were his life line.

He clenched his eyes as you sobbed into his chest, his left hand now going up towards your head to cradle you into him. You could hear how fast his heart was beating, how loud it was, and your body shook with electricity at his touch. Seconds, minutes passed where you both held each other like this, until he slowly pulled your face away to look down at you. His eyes displayed confusion with a frown to his eyebrows.

“Y-You were flying…” He softly mumbles and you sniffle as you look up at him, cheeks flushed as your belly starts jumping all around at seeing him.

“Y-Yes and–”

“Why didn’t you go home you silly girl?” He asked, terror in his voice, almost trembling as he spoke, and your eyes widened. You could have gone… home? What is home? Where did he mean?

“T-This is my home… With Smee… With you.” You raised a hand to caress his cheek, the feelings overflowing your heart as you thought of him, as you saw him, as you felt him. Whatever your past was, whatever your past home was, whoever people you had, they didn’t matter. You knew that you never felt something like this, with no one, with anything. You knew the feelings inside of you right now were not there before arriving here.

You knew you were miserable before landing here. That’s all you knew.

His eyes filled with tears as he stared down at you, for the first time feeling his heart fill up with joy, with care, with want, with desire, and most of all, with love. He had Smee, and he was grateful for him, but it could not compare. What he was feeling for you at this moment, what he has been feeling for you the past few weeks, does not compare.

So he leaned down, almost desperately, wantonly, and pressed his lips against yours, fulfilling your request from last night. You had the chance to leave, you had the chance to fly away, you had the chance to never see this place again, yet you chose him. You chose this family. You chose to stay.

You kissed him back just as desperate, an electric feeling engulfing your body from head to toe, your hand finding the back of his neck to pull him closer to you, if that was even possible. This man who looked right out of a fairytale, was the man that became your home. He made you feel at home, not at all a prisoner, not at all as if you were being held against your will.

Because there was nothing you wanted more than to be in his arms. Than to feel his lips moving against yours the way they are doing now, his body heat mixing with yours as the sound of the waves filled the background noise of you two.

A clear of throat made you both snap out from your kiss, pulling away from it and turning your heads to see Smee at the edge of the ship, from where the stairs were located with a grin to his face. You flushed a deep red, your breath completely heavy as the Captain glared at his crewmate.

“Saw it coming a mile away, just saying.” He raised his hands up in his defense and immediately rushed downstairs to his room. Your face was turned by a cold metal, your Captain’s hook on your cheek to look at him again.

“I am not letting you go Bella, be aware of that.” He says with a smile to his face and you giggle, your breath hitting his lips and he was ready to dive in again into a kiss but you stopped him.

“Hey, why Bella?” You asked him and he grinned at you, but before he could talk, his mouth opening to do so, he was interrupted.

“It means Beautiful. Sorry, forgot my pistol on the boat.” Smee says with a smirk as he heads towards the stairs again. Your captain groaned in exasperation and he pulled away from you, heading towards Smee who was bending over to start going down the stairs. Hook put a foot up and kicked his crewmate on his butt, sending him off the edge and down into the water. You gasped audibly, covering your mouth with your hands as worry crossed your features.

“THAT WAS NOT NICE!” You heard from afar and your captain laughed at that, which made you giggle, catching his attention. He immediately rushed towards you to pull you into another kiss.

He wasn’t going to get tired of that.

A month. One more month.

You were happy, content, as you tied the knots of the sails to the edges of the ship with the help of Smee, the moon already beaming in the sky as well as the stars sparkled above you.

“I’m just saying, you can tell us, and the game would be even more fun!” Smee says and you shook your head with a giggle, finishing your knot.

“I will not tell you their location. The game wouldn’t be fun like that!” You say and he sighs, finishing his own knots as well. For the past month, you had participated in the game of catching the lost boys and Peter, alongside your Captain and Smee. The boys often decided to kidnap you so you would tell them stories and make them food, tuck them into bed at night before Tink would give you pixie dust so you could fly back to the ship.

The Captain rejoiced everytime he found you in the game, instead of you going back willingly. This game is what kept them alive, what kept them enjoying the days, the immortality you all had. Smee has been trying to coarse the information of Peter’s home for the past month with no luck.

“Are the sails secured?” You heard your Captain call and Smee stood tall next to you, giving him a nod. He knew what those words were, so he gave you a wink, before brushing next to you to head towards his headquarters. The Captain looked at you with a playful look in his eyes as he walked towards you.

Your relationship became that of intimate, just kissing, but everytime it escalated more and more, and you both knew that. You never expressed your feelings for him, and neither did he, but you both also knew that it was there. Peter always teased the Captain about your relationship, flying around him to make kissy noises at him, while he tried to swat him away.

“Are my knots okay, Captain?” You asked in a sultry tone, rocking on your feet as he walked closer to you, wrapping his left arm around your waist to pull you closer. A black shirt with loosened strings at his collar which let you see some of his chest hair, puffy sleeves like always, loosened at his wrists, and his hair tied in a low pony tail.

“Perfect even.” He whispered before leaning down and taking your lips with his. You breathed contently against him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him into you as your stomach exploded in butterflies and the word of your feelings sat in your throat.

His lips moved against yours, and his right arm wrapped around you, always keeping his hook at a distance from your body, but sometimes the tip of it would graze your waist and it would send currents of electric shocks through your body. The hit of waves against the ship made it rock slightly, very slightly, almost unnoticeable thanks to the size of it.

Your heart was beating on your ears almost as the kiss progressed, the moon being your witness only as well as the many stars that flicker around it. His tongue doing magic against yours as your body increased in heat and in desire, pulling away to look at him breathlessly.

“Captain…” You mumbled, and he pecked your lips first to then start pecking your cheek, then again, then lower onto your jaw, until he pressed a kiss against your neck, on your pulse point.

“Hmm…?” He asked against your skin and you bit your lip as nervousness but excitement filled your belly.

“Come to my cabin tonight…?” You ask through a heavy breath and his kissing stopped. He slowly pulled away to look at your face, and your eyes were glossed over with adrenaline and desire, much alike to his. His stomach was in knots as well as his heart jumped with happiness, nervousness and anticipation.

He gave you a slow nod, and you felt your whole body burning at the confirmation. You pulled away from him to grab his left hand, guiding you both towards your headquarters, his old cabin, and as you closed the door behind you both, the rest of the night was filled with jagged breaths, moans, becoming one, your hearts joining, your lips swelling, and feeling the love you had for one another.

Because right now, this right here was all it mattered. All you ever wanted.

You slowly awoke, your eyes fluttering open at the sound of seagulls, as an arm was wrapped around your waist from behind, the right arm that had no hook, because he always took it off before sleeping, under the many blankets the bed possessed.

You smiled sleepily as you looked over your shoulder to see your captain, sleeping soundly, soft snores escaping his lips, with his hair all over the pillows and his bare chest pressed against your naked back.

You untangled yourself from him, wanting to start breakfast and he let you go with a groan and a stir in his sleep. You got out of bed, stretching your limbs and looked down at the various love bites all over your body, smiling widely at them. Last night was magical, for the both of you, and you just cannot wait for more of it, for more nights like that, for more days like that.

Maybe even give him a family.

You blushed at the thought and stood up, pulling your underwear and your slacks on, as well as your shirt from yesterday. A bath is going to be nice first, so might as well prepare that before cooking some breakfast.

You walked towards your, his, closet and started grabbing onto your clothes for after your bath, but something fell, something heavy. You looked down and noticed a leather like black coat? You bent down to grab it and when you did something fell off from one of its pockets. You grabbed said thing, an orange capsule, or was it a flask of some sort with a white cap on. You tilted your head in confusion, turning it around to find words stuck to the orange–

Your eyes widened at the words.

Sharp pains started banging on your head as you re-read it, over and over again, a shock striking your brain at full speed, and your heart stopped, it completely stopped and the blood in your body drained, making you feel light headed.

“No… No, no, no!” You yelled loudly, and that made Hook sit up alarmingly, awoken from his slumber. He saw you in front of your closet, holding onto your head and then something on your other hand. He got up, almost like lightning, throwing his slacks on with one hand and rushing towards you.

“What’s wrong?!” He exclaimed worriedly as he saw the tears running down your face as you shook uncontrollably. Your sobs ripped from your chest as you looked up at him, making the pain even more unbearable in your chest. You gave him the flask and he grabbed it with his left hand, looking down at it with a confused frown on his face.

“M-My na–” You couldn’t even say it, the feelings from before coming to Neverland strangling your throat as your head swirled. He read the sticker on the flask and he immediately knew. He knew, because his heart sunk down to his stomach.

Your name was stuck to that flask. You remembered your name.

You remembered everything. You remembered your past home. You remembered the people you met. You remembered your mother. You remembered your friends. You remembered–

“Sweetheart–”

“M-My grandmother’s– grandmother’s name, was Gwendolin.” You say in almost a whisper, shock crossing your features as well as the Captain’s. Gwen… Wendy.

Your grandmother was Wendy.

The flask was dropped and his left hand held your cheek, pushing his forehead against yours. The pain in his chest increased as his eyes filled with tears, the sobs that wanted to rip out of his throat, threatening to be as loud as yours.

“Look at me, please look at me.” He begged and you looked up to meet his eyes, as tears streamed down your faces, shaking your head in denial at what was going to happen next.

“I don’t want to go… Please, I don’t want to go! I don’t– I don’t want to leave you! I don’t want to leave here–” You sobbed out, your arms wrapping around him as your small frame trembled with fear, with sadness, with despair, with the anger of not being able to stop this. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into him.

“Don’t– Don’t worry–” He doesn’t even know what to say, because losing you was the worst thing that has ever happened to him. You were his home, his person, his all, and he was going to lose you.

“Come with me– Come with me please, please!” You begged, pulling your head away from his chest to look up at him, desperation written in your features and another wave of sadness invaded him, as fresh tears spilled out from his eyes.

“I can’t stay– If I don’t remember my name, I will just be pulled into this land again…” He says in a low voice, trying to speak through the rippling sobs that escape his lips, sobs he cannot contain any longer. His heart was breaking, each second now counted, because you were going to leave, at any time.

“Please, please, there has to be a way–” You sobbed out, asking for the gods to hear you, to anyone to hear you, to this realm to hear you. You needed him with you, you needed Smee with you, you needed the kids with you, because if you didn’t, you were going to be all alone again.

Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone.

“I’m– I’m sorry sweet–” He started but you interrupted, knowing there was not enough time.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so much. Don’t leave me, please…” You blurt out, your head dipping into his chest as you sobbed, rocking back and forth. His own heart fluttered at your words, against the pain, but it made his tears come harder, his sobs cutting his breath.

“And I love you darling, I love you.” He managed to say and he felt your body slowly stop shaking, his arms feeling you slumping against him, your sobs calming down.

“I don’t want to go– I don’t want to sleep… I don’t, please don’t let me–” But he knew it was too late as he clenched his eyes shut to brace for the pain that would hit him.

The pain that will hit him when you close your eyes.

You stirred.

You groaned.

You moved your head as consciousness filled it.

Where were you?

There were no waves, no seagulls, no birds chirping, no slow rocking.

Your eyes shot open as you realized the position you were in. You were sprawled on your grandmother’s bed, your old clothes hugging you tightly, as well as your jacket that contained the flask in one of your pockets.

You quickly sat up, looking towards the window that was now wide open, the breeze coming in, moving the curtains away. You immediately leaped up from the bed, rushing in urgency towards the balcony, your eyes filling with tears as they looked up at the night sky.

Was it all a dream? It cannot be, because the longing in your chest was there, the hole that now vacated it was there, the sadness and the loneliness was invading you worse than before. You can’t deal with this again, not again. You looked down at your body, opening the collar of your shirt, seeing the marks on your skin, and that’s when the sobbing started, heavy, your chest exploding with emotions as you fell on the big balcony’s floor.

“Please, please, remember your name, please…” You wished upon that second star to the right. You wished, and wished as it gleamed next to the large moon. Your hands shook against your chest as you held it to calm your heart, to calm the pain, to try to numb it, but you couldn’t.

And you couldn’t.

Not even if three days had passed, and it was all circling back again, spiraling. The word rings in your head as the furniture collects dust in each room, and your stomach makes you throw up at any random time of the day.

Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone.

And it all turned to the same word, to the same reflection in the mirror as you held the orange flask in your hand, looking down at the pile of pills inside of it.

Decisions.

A loud knocking on the front door awoke you, banging like never before, your head dizzy from the lack of nutrients in your body, from the painkiller you took in the morning.

You looked at your phone’s screen, slowly getting up from the couch where you had passed out, and your head was throbbing, holding it with your hand as the banging didn’t stop. You groaned loudly, walking towards the big front door.

“If you are here to sell anything please–” Brown hair caught your eye, that’s the first thing you noticed, and he slowly turned around, brown eyes hitting with yours, freckles on his face, and a sting in your heart made you almost bend over at the sight.

“Bella…” He smiled through his stained face, his breathing picking up and a choked sob escaped your lips as you raised your hands to touch his face, trying to see if what you were seeing was real or not, and there was warmth, there definitely was.

“Sm–Smee–”

“I’m Steve… My name is Steve.” He says and your heart fills with joy at the knowledge, screaming with joy as you pull him into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around you, as he sobbed onto your shoulder. He was still wearing the pirate clothing, the one you thought you invented in your head out of your loneliness, but here he was, hugging you, crying onto you.

But over his shoulder, that’s when you saw the four kids with tear stained cheeks, lost eyes, as they looked over. Steve pulled away from you as he looked down at the children with you, a smile forming on his face.

“Peter—”

“Dustin… I’m Dustin.” He says with a pout to his lips and then Pockets talked.

“I’m Will…” Your eyes widening as you look at their faces, the tears never stopping from coming out of their eyes. Ace spoke next.

“I’m Lucas…” And then, Latchboy finally presented himself.

“My name is Mike…” Your heart beat into your chest loudly, happiness engulfing you as you crouched to the ground, opening your arms for the boys to rush and hug you, holding them close to you as the broken pieces mended back together in your head, in your heart.

All the boys were sobbing loudly, finally feeling normal, remembering who they were, remembering their lives and the intensity that whoever knew them, were long gone by now, but you were here, Steve was here and–

You opened your eyes again, pulling away from the hug as you looked around, desperately. It cannot be, please… He can’t be alone there. He didn’t remember his name? It cannot possibly be that he didn’t, because everyone else did, so–

“Are we going to live here?” Mike asked you and you had to push away your thoughts to answer to him, even if the pain was deep in your heart. You gulped the lump down, nodding at him with a sad smile on your face.

“Yes, and everyone will have their own room, even you, Steve. We’re all going to be a family, would you like that?” You say with doubt in your voice, hope and fear latched to it. All the boys nodded as big smiles filled their faces, hugging each other with happiness. You stood up and looked at Steve, who had a pained look on his face, despite the joy he felt inside his chest at the news of having a family.

“I… He–” His eyes widened for a second as he saw something behind you, looking upwards. When you turned around you didn’t see anything but then your ear caught something.

Loud thuds were heard in your house, and you rushed inside to hear the boots, walking on the second floor, your heart in your throat as the anxiety and hope filled your guts, wishing that it will be him, wishing it is him, wishing on that star that for the love of all things, that it’d be him.

A hook clamped on the rail of the stairs first, and then he came into view, your eyes widening as tears filled your eyes at seeing him again. His hair tight in the black bandana you remembered him with, the white shirt, the tight pants with the belts around his waist, and he stood at the top of your marble stairs.

You stared at one another, for a long while, until your feet worked again, finding the impulse to run to him, the magnet that always pulled you to him, as you rushed towards the stairs, and he followed, running down the steps, desperately, his heart exploding at being able to see you again, his gut turning at seeing your tear stained face, but he had something to say to you, he couldn’t wait to tell you.

He met you at the bottom of the stairs, and your arms immediately wrapped around his shoulders, almost jumping on him as sobs ripped out from your chest, cries of happiness as you felt his warmth against you again, his left arm holding you tightly as he sobbed onto your shoulder, soaking your shirt as you soaked his.

He pulled away to press his hand against your cheek, desperately pecking your lips over and over again through his tears, his longing being shown towards you as you sobbed through the adoration he was giving you, not being able to handle how happy you were feeling, how for the past few days you were miserable, to the brink of going over the edge, but there was something always pulling you back.

And that was faith.

Faith that you would see him again, faith that you wouldn’t be alone again, faith that you would have the family you yearned for. The family you once had with your grandmother only, and now it multiplied.

The Captain pulled away from you, his lips hovering over yours, panting against your lips as your hands clawed at his shoulders, not wanting to let go of him ever again. But he had to tell you something. He had to.

“My name is Edward.”

Your eyes filled with new tears as your smile spread through your lips, widely, a sob escaping them, and you kissed him, pulling his face against yours, before hugging him tightly against you again. Edward. Such a beautiful name.

“Edward… Eddie…” You say his name and he finally let his cries be heard through the home, his chest ripping open from them almost. The boys looked at the couple with wonder in their eyes as Steve gulped the lump in his throat, smiling widely. It almost seemed as if your grandma knew you would meet these people, your grandma knew you were going to be the one to fulfill her promise to them, to bring them home.

Home.

Your new home.

And if you listened closely, through the walls of the marble mansion, a small chime of little bells could be heard, happy yet sad, until they couldn’t be heard any more.

The second star to the right, shines in the night for you, to tell you that the dreams you plan, really can come true.

If you are inspired to do anything with this couple, credit accordingly if it's these two really.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this imagine, this little thing actually broke me while writing it, but seriously, if you got any questions regarding it or maybe request something for these two, I'll be more than happy to receive it on my ask ❤

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tightjeansjavi · 8 months ago

Text

The Rite of Movement | part five

“something I’m not, but something I can be”

A/N: big disclaimer for this chapter: I do not know if this is actually how the porn industry functions. And while Brazzers is a real porn site, I don’t have any knowledge of how they run things on their site. For the sake of fiction, and the storyline, I wrote Joel’s era in Brazzers as a very very toxic work environment. Please heed the warnings. This takes place pre-miller-co. Joel and baby love have not met yet. Joel does however have a girlfriend during his time at Brazzers. Oh, and I listened to what was I made for on repeat while I wrote this 🥺 thank you to @itsokbbygrl for betaing and being my little cheerleader through this series 💗 and thank you to all my other friends for your endless support on my silly lil stories! (Y’all know who you are and how much I love you!)

~word count: 3.1k~

Summary: it’s Joel Miller’s 30th birthday. 30 years of existing, 12 years working for Brazzers, and what does he really have to show for his life outside of being a pornstar?

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: angst, implied smut, toxic work environment, implied workplace abuse, mentions of the porn industry, misogynistic comments/behavior towards women in the porn industry (not by Joel), feelings of body insecurity, shame, mentions of smoking, grief, resentment, language, mature themes, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

Los Angeles, CA. September 26, 2009

An alarm clock blares on Joel’s nightstand, the shrill sound pierces his eardrums, sending his arm flying out from under the covers, smacking the top of the device, silencing it with a heavy groan rumbling up his chest.

6:00 a.m. the sun has barely just begun to peek over the mountains, the bustle of LA traffic, late-night goers returning home, early-morning risers preparing for another droning day.

The big 30: The age where you were expected to have your shit together. No more making foolish mistakes, no more job hopping, you should be married with kids and have a house with a white picket fence and drive a minivan. You should be invested in the stock market, your lawn should be properly trimmed, maybe you even make enough money to own a vacation home.

Joel hadn’t a fucking clue what he wanted out of life. He wasn’t married. He didn’t have any kids. He lived in an apartment with his brother Tommy, splitting the rent between their paychecks. LA never felt like home to him. He liked the palm trees and the beach. He hated LA traffic, smog, and that stupid Hollywood sign that alluded to a lifestyle that only the ‘chosen’ members of high society would get to indulge in.

City of Angels? Not even close.

30 years old, and feeling like he had nothing to show for his life outside of being a pornstar. A branding identity that shamed him more times than he was willing to admit. Is this all I’m good for?

Brazzers was the bane of his existence for 12 years, and yet every time he would try and put his foot down and quit, he was lured right back in. He loved sex just like anyone else. He loved the intimacy, the closeness, the connection to another human being. Above all, he loved making his partners feel good. To make them come, fall apart on his tongue, fingers, or his cock. To hear their pleasured cries, high-pitched real moans of his name.

It was euphoric for him, to make another person feel so good that they completely lose themselves in the moment, in the feeling of the rite of movement. He used to think that this was enough, that the act of sex and unbridled pleasure was all viewers would want to see. He thought he was enough.

But in the adult film industry, sex was never just enough.

He didn’t like being told how he should fuck.

Yank her hair harder.

Slap her around a little.

Squeeze her cheeks till she cries.

Choke her.

I want to see bruises on her ass, Joel.

Fuck her like you mean it, like you hate her. Like she’s your bitch. Your property.

Are we making a porno here or what? Don’t wipe her tears. That’s not what men want. They want to see a cunt being pounded. C’mon, Joel. This is supposed to be a male fantasy!

He learned how to dissociate and remove himself from the scene entirely. He worked on autopilot, tuning out the jarring voices that demanded more from him and his partner(s). And when the passion faded, he struggled to stay hard and on top of his game.

And even with the warm, wet mouth of a fluffer sucking his soft cock, he wasn’t turned on. Not in the slightest and he could feel the shame creeping up on his neck as the director barked at him to get his shit together.

“What do you mean you’re not able to get hard, Miller? You got a hot piece of ass under you, man! What the hell else do you want? Y’know, would it really hurt for you to be more like your brother?”

“She’s got a name, you know.” Joel bit back, grinding his jaw back and forth. The blatant disrespect that women faced on a day to day basis was downright disgusting.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. You make pornos, Joel! Or did you forget? Stop acting like a fucking sissy and do your goddamn job.”

“I need a minute,” he gruffed out and gently pushed the fluffer's mouth off of his cock. He strode past the director and the rest of the set crew and pulled his boxers on in a haste.

“Fine. You get 10 minutes, Miller. And when you get back, I expect you to be fucking ready, and hard.”

Joel didn’t respond as he shucked on his shorts and threw on his hoodie, grabbing his phone and pack of cigarettes to stuff in his pocket. He averted making eye contact with the director, shoulder checking him on his way out of the room.

10 minutes, Miller!

Fuck you is what Joel really wanted to say as he walked at a fast past towards the nearest exit in the long hallway.

The sun was blinding the moment he stepped outside into the back alley. He whipped his phone out, nervously pacing back and forth as he dialed Tommy’s number, listening to the dial tone ring and ring.

“Hey, you old fart! Feelin’ 30 yet?” Tommy said playfully.

“Yeah. I’m feelin’ 30 alright.” Joel grumbled, sinking back against the side of the building.

“What’s up? I know how much you hate your birthday, but why do you sound so—”

“I’m fuckin’ quitting, Tommy. I can’t do this shit anymore. I can’t fuckin’ do it. I’m about five seconds away from stormin’ back in there and beatin’ the living shit out of the director.” He snapped, carding his fingers through his hair, gripping the roots tightly. “I’m throwin’ the towel in, and I ain’t lookin’ back.”

“Woah, woah, woah! Hold on now, what the fuck happened? Are you sure you just want to—”

“Tommy.” Joel warned him, squeezing his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t start this with me, okay? I need to know if you’re with me on this because I sure as hell ain’t leavin’ you out here on your own.”

“I ain’t a kid anymore, Joel. If you want to quit for your own reasons, that’s fine, and I support you, but that doesn’t mean that—” he sighed deeply, weighing out his words in his head before he said, “of course I’m with you on this.”

“I’m not gonna force you to quit, Tommy. I jus’ don’t think this cesspool is fuckin’ good for either of us. Talked to a few others that were thinkin’ of quitting, but no one has pulled the trigger yet. We can do some amateur work till we find our footing again, and I want to move back home, Tommy. I want to move back to Texas. I fuckin’ hate this state. Everythin’ is too damn expensive.”

“I’ll follow you wherever you go, Joel. You know I will. But what about…Carmen and Sarah? You jus’ gonna pack your shit up and not tell her?”

Joel felt his heart twist and clench, knocking the air from his lungs because for the first time in his 30 years of life, his heart was going to be broken, and there was nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable from happening.

“She’s never gonna accept me for who I am and my job, Tommy. She resents it, I know she does. And Sarah will eventually resent me too. She’ll grow up and feel ashamed that her stepfather is a fuckin’ pornstar. They both deserve better than what I can offer them. It’s not like I can just start over and get a respectable job! What established company is gonna hire a guy who’s CV consists of a highschool diploma, a year of working construction jobs and 12 years in the adult film industry?”

Tommy felt his heart break for his brother, splitting right down the middle. “Joel…” he trailed off.

“Her friends treat me differently, and everytime I’ve brought up the potential of meeting her family, she changes the subject on me, Tommy. And you know what? I don’t blame her. Who the fuck would want to introduce their pornstar boyfriend to anyone, let alone her family? I jus’ figured I’d cut her losses sooner rather than later. And even if things were to work out, and I get a new job, a new life, am I just supposed to accept the knowledge of knowin’ that the entire time we have been together, she’s resented my job? Some things just aren’t meant to work out, and that’s fine. I’ll let her go and she’ll meet a nice, normal, man with a good stable job who doesn’t fuck for a living.”

Joel Miller. Paging, Joel. You’re needed on set. Hurry the fuck up—

“Fuckers.” Joel muttered under his breath as he rose to his feet. “I gotta go, okay? I’ll text you in a bit.”

“Wait, Joel,” Tommy started, trying to think of what he could possibly say to his brother that would make the situation better. “Everythin’ is gonna be okay. It’ll all work out in the end.”

“Yeah, sure.” He replied flatly. “I’ll see you.” he ended the call, shoving his phone back into his hoodie pocket and pushed open the exit door just as his name was called over the intercom again.

This time he was going to put his foot down for good. He wasn’t going to be lured back in. He was done. His mind was made up and there would be no turning back.

“Fucking finally. I said 10 minutes, Miller. You’re lucky I even gave you that.” The director scoffed and snapped his fingers at the fluffer to do her job.

Joel stopped her with a gentle hand along her shoulder before he made direct eye contact with the director. “That won’t be necessary.”

“What the fuck do you mean that won’t be necessary? We were supposed to be wrapped up with this shit already. I have a freshie to introduce to you afterwards, so if we can just get a move on—”

“I said, that won’t be necessary.” Joel calmly reiterated as he grabbed his bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder.

“Boy, you better fucking start talking. What do you mean that won’t be necessary?!”

“It means that I quit. And I hope that freshie and every other woman here fuckin’ quits while they still have the chance.”

The atmosphere in the brightly lit room immediately shifted and the tension was palpable. Joel’s onscreen partner was shocked, the fluffer was shocked along with the rest of the film crew.

“You have gotta fucking joking me right now.” The director laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You got some fucking nerve, Miller.”

Joel shrugged, glancing around the room before he turned towards the door, grasping the handle in his palm and pushed it open. He paused, looking over his shoulder, giving his onscreen partner a small, reassuring nod, “oh, and just a little word of advice? If you want sex to sell, and for Brazzers to not tank like the fuckin’ stock market, start by treatin’ women in the industry with respect. Jus’ a little food for thought. Pass that onto the CEO, and then tell him to shove it right up his ass.”

He walked out after that, listening to the director holler his name and something along the lines of, you’ll be back. They always fucking come back!

And on his way out, his shoulder gently made contact with another body rushing up the stairwell. “‘S’cuse me.” He rasped.

You didn’t get a look at the stranger's face on your way up. You were too focused on the fact that you were running late, and couldn’t afford to be potentially fired.

He didn’t get a look at your face either.

Joel opted to be alone for the rest of the day, sitting on the hood of his car, smoking through an entire pack of cigarettes while he watched the clouds roll by, and tourists stop to take pictures of the infamous Hollywood sign. He thought about his life up until this point.

30 years on this shithole we call earth. 12 years spent in the adult film industry, and never had he felt so lost and alone. Hours away from ending his first ever long term relationship and leaving the past behind.

Fuck 30. He thought to himself.

The inevitable settled into his bones as the sun slowly began to set behind the mountains, creating stunning hues of pink, oranges and purples in the sky. His phone buzzed on the exterior of the hood of his car, tearing him away from his thoughts when Carmen’s name popped up on the screen.

Hey, birthday boy. Are we still on for Thai food tonight? x.

Hey, baby. Yeah, of course. Can’t wait to see you.

5 missed calls from Tommy

10 messages from Tommy.

What happened to fucking calling me later, Joel?!

Why is your phone going straight to voicemail!

Can you just let me know that you’re okay?!

Joel.

Dude.

Pick up your phone!

And you call me the bad texter?!

This isn’t funny.

I didn’t sign up for the silent treatment!

If you’re dead in a ditch somewhere I’m gonna fucking kill you!!

He typed out a quick message to his brother informing him that he was in fact still alive and that he would be home soon.

What he wasn’t expecting was Carmen and Tommy to host a surprise birthday dinner at his apartment. He wasn’t mad at his brother for not giving him a heads up, and it wasn’t like Tommy could tell Carmen a simple, hey, by the way, my brother is going to break up with you and he wants to move back to Texas!

But all Joel could feel now when she pressed her lips to his in a sweet kiss, and planted a silly little party hat on his head, was guilt. An overwhelming tidal wave of guilt and shame for what he was going to do. And throughout the evening his guilt began to fester like an untreated wound. Bubbling pus leaked from his heartstrings like a broken faucet when he opened his unexpected present from Carmen.

It was a pocket wrist watch with an olive green strap that fit his wrist perfectly.

“You’re always misplacing your phone, so I figured that this would help you tell the time better? I know it isn’t much—”

He interjected softly, looking over at her with a small smile tugging on his lips, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” I’m so sorry.

And when Tommy stepped outside for a smoke and to give Joel and Carmen a bit of privacy, the energy shifted and Joel could feel the thread between them being pulled tight, threatening to snap at any given moment.

“Joel, is everything okay? You’ve hardly said a word to me tonight.”

And instead of responding, he got up from the couch in a haste, trying to keep his nerves at bay, but truthfully? He was panicking and it was written all over his face. “I’m fine, Carm. I jus’—I need some air.” He walked the short distance to the little balcony, pulling the door open as he stepped outside into the cooling night air.

Lights shimmered in the distance, palm trees swayed from a breeze off the coast. 30 years old and he felt like the biggest fucking asshole on the planet. Can I fix this? Can I make it work?

He stared down at the watch on his wrist, the tiny spokes ticking away as he rested his forearms along the paint chipped railing, listening to the soft squeak of the sliding door being pulled open as the blood rushed in his ears.

He tapped his foot nervously, jaw ticking under the fading light at the realization that there was no turning back.

“Do you love me?” He suddenly spoke, teeth grinding down on the inside of his cheek, the taste of copper bursting on his tongue. A reminder come morning when he would awake to the same soreness in his mouth that he feels in his heart.

“Joel…” she trailed off, standing alongside him, rubbing her arm as a self-soothing gesture.

“Do you love me…unconditionally?” His question hung heavy in the air, and when she didn’t immediately answer, tears began to prick the corner of his eyes, stinging and blurring his vision.

“Baby, please…why are—”

“Please don’t call me that right now, Carmen. Please.” he sniffled, staring back out over the railing at the shimmering mirage of Los Angeles. “If you did love me unconditionally, you would have answered me right away. It’s okay, I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you. I jus’—I know you resent me for being a pornstar. I’ve known about it for a while,” he said softly, feeling a tear rolling down along the side of his nose and drip down over his lips. His dewy eyed gaze met hers briefly, before he looked away. “And I also know that you would never ask me to quit, but you and I both know that’s what you want from me.”

There was no point in trying to deny it any longer. There was no bad blood, no bitterness. Just two adults facing the reality that is life. And sometimes…relationships don’t work out. The passion fades and resentment rears its ugly head.

“And no matter how many times I have tried to earnestly explain to you why I chose this career path, you will never understand. And I would never try to force you to. But it’s not fair to you, myself, or Sarah to continue this relationship when you will never accept me for who I am, Carmen.”

“You’re right, Joel.” She said quietly, her own tears beginning to brew along her waterline. “I’m so sorry.”

He swallowed the lump growing in his throat and the sob threatening to leave his lips, “I am too.”

There isn’t much left to say as they hug for the last time. She wishes him well in life and he does the same. There’s a new ache in his chest at the thought of him no longer being involved in Sarah’s life anymore. But he believes she’ll be better off without him, too.

And when she leaves his apartment for the last time, taking almost 3 years of memories along with her as the front door clicks shut, and her echoing footsteps down the hall become softer and softer, he lets out the sob he had been suppressing, sinking down to his knees in defeat.

Tears stream down his cheeks as a car horn blares below on the street.

Fuck you, asshole! Get out of the road! The owner of a sleek BMW yells with the window rolled down to a teenager crossing the street on his bike.

30 years old and heartbroken. So much for having his shit together.

banners made by the lovely @saradika-graphics 💗

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hellenhighwater · 2 years ago

Note

your house is so beautiful! if I ever buy a house I'm going to try to find one like yours, remodeling accepted. I love the way you've designed it and made it your own space <3

Honestly one of my favorite things about my house is that it's a little bit shit. Not terribly. Just a bit.

There's a finite limit to how much money I will ever get out of this house. It's not really an "investment" property. I mean, if and when I do sell it I'll probably come out money ahead, but it's an old house on a tiny city lot; property values are not going to change enough that I can retire off what I'll someday sell this house for. So that means that I don't have to be too precious with it; I can DIY things and paint it silly colors and put holes in the walls to put up hammock anchors and it's fine that I do that. It wasn't pristine when I got it and it certainly won't be pristine when I leave it, and I think that's delightful.

I do own this house, but it's got its own history--I tend to think of myself more as its current custodian than anything else, so when it comes to more permanent renovations I do try to stick to things that will be approachable for whoever keeps this house after me--neutral-ish colors for flooring and so on. That being said, paint and furniture choices go pretty far.

Thank you!

#i also get EVERYTHING secondhand or thrifted #me and my shoestring budget are weaving a cloak of dreams babey #hellen highwaters house of horrors

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luv4divineruler · 2 years ago

Text

kai anderson x fem!reader headcannons

MOVED TO @spectr3inl0ve

authors note: this is my first time writing headcannons so naturally it wont be top tier quality! i will try to write for gender neutral readers but atm im still trying to figure out my writing style and get comfortable with it :)

please remember that these are my headcannons i have for kai and may be out of character. i do however try to keep them as realistic to his character as possible as i prefer it that way!

contains ⚠️: kai anderson, slight fluff, kai being cold ig

kai anderson is not fond of pda, unless he initiates it. this would be when hes trying to make himself look like a good partner so the public perceives him as "an average man" (i will bring up the average man again)

his staged pda may look like: hand holding, swift kisses on the cheek, arm around ur shoulder and maybe around ur waist. he would be more likely to allow u to initiate it as well. he doesnt want to be viewed as clingy or touchy

in private he is tolerant of ur kisses (on his cheek, nose, wherever), hand holding, hugging, clinging to his arm, cuddling, resting ur head on his shoulder, etc. he probably likes it, but he would never let u know that

kai has invested in stocks and a few small properties. that, combined with his job as an app developer and his parents retirement funds allows him to live comfortably. and be able to spoil u.

that being said, his love language is more likely to be gift giving.

when u wake up with kai not being by ur side, sometimes a wad of cash ranging from hundreds to thousands of dollars (lucky u ;)) will be left in his place

kai may even be gravious enough to leave a simple note reading,

"*reader*, buy yourself something nice. K.A"

though sometimes he leaves the cash not for ur shopping but for u to buy groceries, household items and things that he needs such as clothes, razors, hair dye, etc. u dont complain as u live in his house for free and he makes sure ur health is at peak condition

dates arent common, but they arent rare either so sometimes he will plan take u on a date on the days he leaves cash for u to spend on urself. on these days, the money would be accompanied by a note reading,

"I'm taking u out to dinner tonight at *place* at *time*. Dress accordingly. If you would like you may buy me something to wear to dinner. K.A"

or something along those lines. If he doesn't leave a note he'll send a text and either way he'll sign with his initials. (will def write more about this so stay tuned)

he would never let u know that he likes (not to be confused with loves) when you buy outfits for him to wear.

he probably had poor hygiene before dating u. u would've had to convince him to take showers everyday and to wash his hair more. he would shower more, but would neglect his hair. when u wash his hair, u notice how he's slightly more vulnerable with u, less hostile.

when kai needs to re-dye his hair, he asks u if u want to do it, otherwise he'd do it himself or get winter (b4 her death) to do it

this isn't original (i read it in an amazing smut but i dont remember the @ 😭) but he doesn't pay attention to conversations or u talking to him while he eats. he's focused on the food in front of him. u use this to ur advantage, getting him to buy u lavish gifts he wouldntve said yes to buying if he wasn't eating.

doesn't really give compliments of assurance, only when ure literally sobbing in his arms or in a dark corner of a room.

"I've tought you to be stronger Angel. You should be secure with who you are. It makes you impenetrable. Untouchable."

he would tell u, as he presses a hard kiss to the top of your head

would definitely have pet names for u. probably animal related like Bunny, Little Lamb (a popular one associated with kai). he would also call u Angel, maybe babe or baby. I don't see him calling u kitten or queen. sorry

when u sleep u have ur back facing him, depending on his mood u could be holding hands or he could have his arms snaked around ur waist. if hes exhausted he may let u cuddle into his chest (idk y but i feel like he'd normally have a problem with that). either way, u always kiss him goodnight, whether that'd be on his lips, cheek, head, nose, or somewhere in between. he usually wouldnt reciprocate it, but if he's feeling generous he will

soo thats finished, i am definitely going to write some oneshots based on a headcannon or 2

taglist (dm or comment to be added): omg it looks so lonely rn

#luv4divineruler #kai anderson #kai anderson headcannons #kai anderson x reader #ahs cult #ahs #american horror story #evan peters fanfic #evan peters x reader #evan peters #evan peters smut #kai anderson smut #james patrick march #tate langdon #kyle spencer #dollette #bimbo reader #fem!reader #headcannons

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digenerate-trash · 9 months ago

Text

YAN VALENTINES HEADCANNONS

love interests and a couple extras

Robin ❤❤❤❤❤

Robin is enamored with Valentine's Day. He loves it so much and he wants to celebrate with you. He wants things to go well so he's invested some of his money into flowers. Chocolates maybe some movie tickets for you two.

Wants to go all out and spend the day with you.

He might ask you to do some somewhat weird things for him since it's a special day. (he wants to suck your tits gn)

Will skip school today just to keep you two home

If you don't want to spend Valentine’s Day with him he's just gonna cry and beg. get ready for a guilt trip

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Whitney ❤❤❤

Shoves a stuffed animal in your chest as soon as you see him. Brags about stealing it. (it cost him 30 bucks)

He hates the lovey-dovey part of Valentine’s but he's a big fan of the PDA that comes with it. Is gonna fuck you more than once on school property

Gonna leave bite marks bruises hickies and burn marks all over your skin.

Good luck getting anywhere near a classroom today. Whitney is not going and neither are you.

Don't expect a romantic date. You're going to the pub and getting drunk with Whitney.

In the morning you wake up hung over and Whitney is still with you snoring loudly and holding you in a vice grip.

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him that's too bad. Says that's fine theirs plenty of sluts just like you. but he's just gonna drag you along anyway.

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Sydney ❤❤❤❤❤

Corrupt or pure Sydney is just expecting you to spend the day together.

Pure Sydney is up for some wholesome fun. He’s bought candies for you and gotten you a very thoughtful card corrupt Sydney has done the same but has written the dirtiest fucking message in the card and he's waiting to see your expression

Pure Sydney wants to maybe share a kiss with you. And corrupt Sydney wants to wreak you over the library desk.

If you work at the shop corrupt Sydney is asking you which heart-shaped toys you like. He keeps insisting that testing them on you is part of the job

Both of them want to go on a date after school maybe to the cafe for a nice meal and to spend more time with you.

Both Sydney have to be home by 8 pm.

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him that's fine. There's always tomorrow. But he is gonna be passive-aggressive about who you love instead of him

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Kylar ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

Valentine's Day with Kylar is awful ngl.

Your locker is stuffed with drawings and candy and cards of all his most devious thoughts about you.

Every time you interact with anyone else ++jealousy

Kylar is all over you. Kisses, grabbing your arm in a death grip telling people you are already married, trying to fuck you any chance he gets.

Overexcited will do anything you ask (will not leave you alone tho)

Wants to go on a date and will take you back to his home and try to cook for you (oil fire)

The date is a disaster He is a mess but he still wants to make today special (he lasts like 10 seconds in bed and has head trauma afterward)

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him he's got enough piosin darts and rope to keep you secure. Then every day can be romantic!!

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Mickey ❤❤

You get one of those little emails with a digital card.

He doesn't get Valentine's Day

He does invite you to the pub. He wears a mask the whole time and doesn't talk much. He hates being outside.

Happy to see you. You get a kiss on the forehead

It's only once you both head home that you get the most depraved sick anonymous emails that describe how they want to ruin your body and rape you over and over again until you can't move

Mickey can help block them though. don't worry.

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him he doesn't mind too much. Unless you're spending it with someone else then he's pissed

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Eden ❤

Doesn't care that it's Valentine's Day. You both have things to do.

Too busy hunting and getting his shit sorted.

If you decide to make the day special he's going to feel a lot better about today.

Wants to help with dinner

The most bear-like sex of your life.

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him. To bad.

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Avery ❤❤

Has offered to pay you to spend Valentine's with him.

Fancy restaurant. The hotel was booked afterward and a small gift of chocolates was.

he's just running through the motions. This day is kinda below him but he's willing to indulge to keep you happy

Indifferent the whole time

Still makes you get the salad

Will break if it turns out you got him a gift as well and suddenly feels horrible.

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him he offers you double the payment. If that doesn't work he throws a fit and assults you.

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Black Wolf ❤

Has no idea the significance of this day and doesn't get it when you explain it's a day for lovers. he's still confused

he's happy you're spending it with him though.

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him, that's fine. He doesn't understand the holiday

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Great Hawk ❤❤❤

Lurker dinner.

Stolen items for a gift.

Romantic screeching bird sex.

he's the perfect gentleman

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him devastated. This is a holiday, especially for couples and you don't wanna??? he's gonna cry

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Alex ❤❤❤❤

Gift of chocolates and a card.

Spends the whole day leaning on you and kissing you. Never wants to let you go

Good luck getting work done today

He makes dinner and watches a romantic comedy with you

Going to fuck you halfway through the movie

Gonna be confused about the plot of the movie after he's rearranged your guts

If you don't wanna spend Valentine’s Day with him he's kinda insulted. Get ready for an interrogation.

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Bailey ❤

don't give him anything. No gifts no candy no card no nothing. he's gonna yell at you.

He will also stash it for later but you'll never find it.

Extra pissed off at you today.

Locks you in your room

Doesn't explain why

Gonna cut you open tonight.

If you don't wanna spend Valentine's Day with him: Good.

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Harper ❤❤❤❤❤❤

Kisses!!!!

Harper gets you a card and tells you to come to his office today

Then drugs you with aphrodisiacs!!

The whole day is a blur and you have no clue what's transpired. But youre marked to hell with hickies and youre hooked up to an IV

If you don't wanna spend Valentine's Day with him it turns out that youre not mentally fit to be by yourself. he's already called the asylum.

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tgmsunmontue · 10 months ago

Text

You need to learn how to fall 3/10

Hangster (and IceMav) - Bradley is too tall to be a naval aviator and instead becomes a sky diver, specialising in spin recovery. He is a civilian contractor to the Airforce and Navy to teach pilots how to survive parachute spins from ejections. A more in-depth version of this post.

PROLOGUE 2003-2006

2007-2010 – The middle years

He ends up with another part-time job, fortunately using his human performance part of his degree and working as a personal trainer, mostly early mornings. Jumping out of planes is expensive. He moves out of the house him and Mav usually live in, but months later ends up moving in with Ice when he’s diagnosed with cancer. They don’t sugar coat things, not now that he’s an adult. He has to listen to them talk about wills and property and investments and assets; wants to stick his head in the sand and just chant la-la-la until it all goes away. He doesn’t want to consider his life without them both in it. Hard enough to think he’s already lost his actual parents, he can’t lose them too.

He sits through it though, signs forms he reads carefully because both Ice and Mav frown and look disappointed the first time he signed without even looking. They get similar forms for him, given his current career and he’s pretty sure Mav has to excuse himself to go and throw up when he says he doesn’t want to be kept on life support indefinitely if he has a bad fall. Ice just nods and accepts his decision with quiet equanimity and he wonders if it’s because he is facing his own mortality. He starts a YouTube channel, figures out how to take effective video and then edit it properly. Loads them up without commentary; originally it’s for those he’s taken up for tandem jumps, but then it’s for other instructors around the country, and then a couple of them move overseas. His channel has a small but dedicated following.

One of the silver linings of Ice’s cancer diagnosis is the fact he seems to no longer give any fucks about what people might say about his relationship with Mav. Don’t ask, don’t tell is still in effect but it’s also definitely very firmly in the don’t tell realm as far as Bradley can figure out. Everyone who they interact with seems to simply know that they’re together, and have been for as long as everyone remembers. Definitely for as long as he remembers. No one wants to tell and he guesses that Ice is high enough up that there’s probably blind-eyes all over the place.

Then Ice insists on Mav moving in, which he promptly leaves the house for, not wanting to hang around for listening to the argument or hearing the makeup sex that will surely follow. So they put the house on the market, then he’s given the money and told he can finally buy the plane he wants which he delays a little and carefully shops around, listening to the advice of his old instructors and also Ice and Mav. All his gifts for years are centered around either skydiving or filming and editing software. It doesn’t escape his notice that Mav’s gifts tend towards the safer indoor aspects, while Ice tends toward the safety needs. They’re both supportive in their own ways.

Living together, all of them, properly for the first time, results in the sudden influx of photos that pop up, every flat surface has frames with photos and Ice starts taking more photos. All of their lives are visually documented on the walls and bookshelves, although Bradley notes the front room Ice uses as a study and work room remains very formal and devoid of any personal touches. Other than formal portraits, like his graduation photo. Regardless of what room he’s in he feels like he is at home.

… … …

His nightmare becomes a reality, although not in full. The call he got was from Bradley, starting off with I’m alive but I’m on the way to the hospital. He’d then passed the phone over to someone else. Apparently he’d taken a bad landing after being forced to use his second backup shute. He’d been too close to the ground so had hit it hard. His hands are shaking as he walks down the hospital corridor, the only thing that has him not vomiting is the fact that Bradley is the one who called him. That Bradley was alive; maybe not alive and well, but alive enough to call him.

“Bad fall,” Mav mutters. “Like he’s tripped over the front step and grazed his hands…”

He pushes the door open to Bradley’s room. He’s pale, face covered in bandages, one arm in a cast and both legs in braces, but not as he’d imagined a broken spine and him being in something like full-traction it’s a little bit of a relief.

“He’s damned lucky.”

“Doesn’t look lucky.”

“He had his legs tucked up, hit the ground and rolled. Like it was as natural as breathing. He dislocated his shoulder but continued with the momentum… most people I know would have hit the ground feet-first despite years of training and the shock would have caused spiral fractures. They’ve braced his ankles as a matter of precaution because the x-rays showed no damage, which is a miracle but also isn’t surprising considering he walked into the hospital. We don’t usually say that you can be a natural at skydiving, but this kid is definitely a natural.”

Mav sighs.

Of course he is.

… … …

“If the cancer didn’t get me, then I’m sure jumping out of a plane isn’t going to kill me either.”

“Fighting words. It’s a good thing I’m taller than you. When we come into land you’re going to lift your legs.”

He listens as Bradley takes him through everything, despite the fact that he knows it all, having listened to it so often he’s pretty sure he could repeat it back, learning it alongside Bradley and quizzing him on it. He can follow Bradley’s instructions, he’s in the Navy. When he’s strapped to Bradley, waved the all-clear he feels a little frisson of abject terror but it’s too late, he’s falling toward to the ground and then his fear fades away and he lets out a whoop of joy, hears Bradley’s amused laughter before it’s whipped away by the rushing air. They hit the ground and it’s gentler than he thought it would be.

“Woo! What a rush!”

“Yeah? You like it?”

“It reminds me of my first launch off a carrier. Damn. Yeah. I get it now. Love you kid,” he says, knocking his own helmet against Bradley’s, the words aren’t ones he says often, but feels the need to say them more often now. Doesn’t want Bradley to ever doubt how he feels. Mav either for that matter…

“Love you too.”

… … …

“You were both up there, together.”

He should have known it would give Mav another nightmare and he curls himself around him, makes gentle shushing noises under his breath, glad now that he doesn’t have to try and do this over the phone.

“Do you trust him?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then know that skydiving, especially tandem skydiving is safer than driving to and from the hangar. Car accidents are far more common and hurt far more people than skydiving does. You’ve seen him with his gear. Hell, we check it. He’s damned good at what he does. He’s meant to be up in the air just as much as you are…”

Mav lets out a little hiccupping breath and Tom knows he’s got something that’ll definitely take his mind of everything else.

“You know, there’s something else I want to check off on my bucket list…” Tom says, and he’s not going to move, but his otherwise grand plans aren’t getting a look in right now. This feels right.

“What?”

“Pete Mitchell, will you marry me?”

… … …

Ice and Mav leave plans on the table one night. An extension to the house, with a shared internal door but his own front door; effectively making two houses. A large bedroom, another room for an office with a desk, extension to the garage so he can store his gear, enough room to roll out his chutes and carry out checks. It’s very clearly an invitation to never move out, but also to live independently and he finds the sticky notes they use to communicate when they’re too busy to actually stop and talk. Simply draws a heart and writes love it in the center.

He doesn’t bother looking at moving out of home again.

2011-2015 - The later years (NEXT PART)

#IceMav #Top Gun fanfic #Hangster #you need to learn how to fall

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sniigura-archive · 4 months ago

Note

Adam x Reader x Mammon AU where Reader's a stripper, Mammon's the boss of the club she works at, and Adam's the head of the church near the club that's trying to get it shut down. Reader being this nobody who's able to get these two (2) powerful men to do just about whatever she wants cuz her pussy's Just That Good.

She's Mammon's favorite so she's the only one of the club's performers that he listens to when it comes to getting raises/paid breaks, complaints about harassment from customers, etc., so Reader uses his interest in her to look out for her coworkers;

R: Oh, I'm not sure if I can have sex rn, i'm just too upset about how Bernadette won't be able to visit her family this weekend cuz she has to work overtime :(

M: Fine I'll give her the weekend off are you gonna suck my dick now or what

Adam and his church trying to boycott the club and causing problems for business so Reader goes to "talk to him" and now the club no longer has to worry about the church anymore. When members of the church ask Adam why they stopped boycotting he's bullshits something like "God told me we should show mercy to sex workers, just as Jesus showed mercy to Mary Magdalene (a former prostitute)". What really happened was that Reader gave Adam some A+ snu snu and threatened to never let him have sex with her again unless his church stopped boycotting the club.

Mammon goes to visit Adam shortly after cuz he can't believe that Reader managed to convince him to leave the club alone (cuz she's "just a girl" after all). Reader expects the worst, but then the two end up becoming instant besties and make a deal to have their services coexist in peace. Mammon def takes credit for "saving" the club and Reader's just looking at him like "sure jan B/".

HAUQJJAWH ANON!!!!!!!!! I THINK YOU SHOULD BE WRITING FANFIC INSTEAD OF ME!!!

god the way i was like trying to figure out how to do adam x reader x mammon and here you are. dropping this into my inbox. i’m in love with you

like!!! imagine the neighbourhood is going through some crazy gentrification. everything is changing, it gets more expensive and conservative?? hello?? what happened to the shit hole you grew up in?

you’re basically mammons cash cow. you’re the star of the club. he’s always torn between „get out there and bring some goddamn cash in“ and „nobody else should get to look at you besides me“ it’s very annoying with him. to cope he has to bend you over his desk to calm his raging possessiveness

at least you use your power over mammon for good. the girls love you and you’re all basically sisters. one girl comes to him crying because some guy groped her and he’s like „well did you at least charge him extra for that 🤨“ but when you come to him because someone called you a whore the guy can never show his face again in mammons block

ADAM!!!i just imagine him and the church protesting in front of the club and you’re just done with them already. they’re scaring off customers, especially since they live stream the whole thing!!!! most of your visitors are married men ofc they don’t show their face as long as they’re out there 😭 and man they are persistent

mammon is also losing his mind because he’s losing money. he’s also too cheap and stubborn to change club location

all these petitions and the pressure the church puts on the major is just stressful. so you decide to go over there, to talk. and oh boy did you both talk!! through gasps and moans

adam immediately develops a complex where he wants to „“safe““ reader. turn her into his perfect little housewife who stays home with their brats and goes to church every sunday. very confused when reader is actually okay with her life

reader in this i think would be rather smart with her money. like she’s into the stock market and buys property and invests in businesses. mammon and adam not realising that reader is better off than both of them 😭

LMAOO mammon taking all the credit 😭😭

i can’t even begin to imagine their reaction when they realise you’re doing both of them behind their backs. well it’s not like you’re in a committed relationship with either of them (they just thought it was implied smh 🙄)

need to be pressed inbetween both their huge bodies

#ask #adam.thoughts #mammon.thoughts

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mbta-unofficial · 8 months ago

Text

If your city is a Brand, it’s already too late

Long post time. What is it that drives gentrification? Also, what is gentrification? Is it when a city gets blue hair and pronouns? No, it probably already had those.

Gentrification is the result of concentration of wealth in the hands of business owners, including landlords, over and above the hands of residents.

Let’s start with rent. Rent, like any good, is priced according to the laws of supply and demand. Supply of available rental housing is primarily determined by construction costs and estimated return on investment for new construction, and property management costs and estimated return on investment for existing units.

Breaking that down a bit, the higher construction costs get the higher the rent needs to be to break even on new construction. Construction costs include labor (which can always go down but you want it high for moral and practical reasons), materials (highly variable depending on the project) and bureaucratic costs. A bureaucratic cost is a cost that is based on how projects fit into the legal and practical environment, and are usually non-negotiable. Dig Safe, a program which requires three days of surveying local records before breaking ground, is an example where the function is to prevent crews from flattening a neighborhood by puncturing a gas main. Environmental Impact Statements, Fire Codes, Habitability Guidelines, and other regulations increase costs to projects. These programs are good and need to exist, but do stop smaller projects from happening at all because the capital investment required just to actually break ground on a new house might cost as much as the land and materials put together at which point you might as well build another 120$/sqft luxury midrise.

Property management costs for existing units are largely dependent on age and wear. A unit with no occupant is going to depreciate little, and may also appreciate in value. Depreciation and appreciation here are sort of unintuitive because they can happen at the same time. Imagine an old luxury sports car with a high resale price. Driving depreciates the value because it’s literal condition is poorer, even as the resale value goes up over time. The appreciation needs to beat both inflation and the value of depreciation for it to go up in real value. For companies with large capital holdings however, losses such as through the upkeep of empty apartment buildings are useful to a point because they reduce these organizations’s tax burdens. A company that makes a killing on the stock market only has to pay taxes if they keep it: if they buy houses they then don’t rent, they can claim they “lost” their stock market earnings with “bad investments” and then pay no tax while saving the real estate to rent later. Again, this favors the largest possible projects and the largest possible operators because small companies can be killed by an unprofitable quarter or 4 while large ones explicitly benefit from unprofitability in reducing their tax burden.

Expected ROI is the final piece of this, which affects both new and existing units. Every private developer and landlord wants to make as much money as they can, unless they are explicitly are renting as a service. An example of renting as a service would be families, who will rent to each other at favorable rates or for free, privileging people with large and/or wealthy families that are friendly with each other. Now, ROI is also subject to supply and demand. Everyone wants to build 120$/sqft luxury apartments but once everybody does nobody can sell/rent for those prices without setting a price floor and waiting for buyers to catch up. If you are a small developer, you can’t afford to do this. Your expenses will eat you alive. If you are a big developer, though, those expenses are offsetting the gains you make and serving to reduce you tax bill. Units at prices nobody can pay are effectively furloughed, meaning off the market, and, so long as they remain cheap to maintain, will remain that way, artificially restricting supply. It doesn’t matter if it’s for sale or not when it’s at a price you can’t afford. (Sidebar, anyone who tells you that the minimum wage depresses hiring because it artificially restricts demand is lying to you. It’s not strictly false, but like the above it’s a multi-variable equation and blanket statements about cost of labor are aimed at killing wages.)

What this alludes to also is a need for greater income equality. In order for rental to be a competitive option with furlough, not only does the price of furlough have to be increased, the real value of wages have to be increased in order to create opportunities for people to splurge. This is a twofold strategy, of both increasing the rewards of putting units on the market and increasing the costs of keeping them off. If real wages barely cover cost of living, or don’t cover cost of living, nobody can realistically spend more real wages on rent regardless of the percentage of their income it is. (Real wages here refers to the political power implied by dollar wages. A dollar is really worth whatever it can be exchanged for, whether that is a candy bar or a square inch of a 144$/sqft condo) The real value of everything except time and land are also constantly going down because of constant improvements in manufacturing. The cost in acres of land and hours of labor of a pound of beef, a bolt of cloth, or a pint of beer have dropped dramatically in the last century. Unfortunately, land is one of the few things that remains in marxist terms uncommodifiable, because it cannot be fully abstracted from the physical properties that make it valuable and we can’t make more of it just by making a better machine. This means that as the real value of things goes down because of supply and demand, the value of land only goes up because the supply is hard capped. If the value of everything under capitalism must go down because of increased production, while the value of capitalist assets must go up, or the system collapses, it makes sense that land would become a fixed point in that equation, the marxist speed of light observable from all reference points. The best approximation of land as commodity is, what else, apartments, which make available as living space the empty air above us. Because production never stops, the value of everything but land must go down. Therefore, as time passes, the price of land, and hence the price of housing, must tend upwards. Therefore, in order for housing to remain affordable, real wages must grow. This is the opposite of what is currently happening, as real wages have gone down for decades.

This income inequality which is one facet of capitalism is not new. For as long as people have lived in urban areas there have been issues between the abject class, the working class, the ruling class, and the professional class, a four part distinction I will seriously argue for in opposition to a lot of marxist theorists. The ruling and working classes ought to be familiar, or at least self explanatory. However, the other two classes I identify, the professionals and the abject, are useful to this analysis because they fill both a racial gap in the primarily marxist analysis I put forward and identify the two most likely groups to rent, which is to say the worker who works to produce but owns without governing and the professional who works to govern but does not own. The ruling class both governs and owns, but its court is full of courtiers who are there to push various agendas from within the rule of law without per se producing. Likewise, the working class pensioner exists in opposition to the abject who is denied the opportunity or the resources to be productive explicitly as a means to manufacture a threat against which inter-class solidarity between the workers and the rulers is developed. The textbook nazi conspiracy theory about “elites” doing a great racial replacement picks out perfectly what I mean by both the racial character of the professional and the abject and their utilization to foster solidarity between your plumber uncle and Elon Musk. This is relevant to both the broad theme of gentrification and the narrow theme of rent because gentrification is a wedge issue that divides the working class and the professional class far more than its impact on any other. The working class’ disidentification with doctors, lawyers, PMCs and other yuppie types, as well as the professional class’ disidentification with union politics, illegalism, and radicalism in general is brought to firecrackers in virtually any conversation about gentrification which seems in passing to be more about tapas bars than about real politics. Likewise, these groups shared distrust of and disdain for the abject, who are explicitly labeled by the state as constitutionally guilty, is the basis for the very broken windows policing strategy that empties neighborhoods of minorities regardless of class. The Rent is Too Damn High, and excluding homeless people from the “working” working class is a big part of how we got here specifically because the interests of small time owners and small time government functionaries, carried to their conclusions, are necessarily self defeating. These two groups eliminate the presence of the abject from their spaces at their own financial peril.

In addition to class, there is also a specific historical movement that is crucial to the understanding of gentrification as it exists, which is the movement of factories in search of cheap labor. The United States is not a good place to find cheap urban labor. You build a factory and suddenly everyone complains about air quality and labor violations and you can’t just kill them because everyone has lawyers. You kill one (us citizen) organizer and the NLRB is trying to get you in court for intimidation. What’s the country come to? But a shipping container costs a quarter cent per mile and the goods aren’t perishable so you go to Guangzhou or Cape Town where you can kill union bosses in peace. But for the American city, that’s a loss of what once made land prime real estate. What jobs can replace the insatiable demand for labor that a 24 hour paper mill once produced? Service labor, which crucially is site specific and therefore not outsourceable, is what the US has predominantly turned to. (and arms manufacturing which is not outsourced for very different reasons) However, service labor is only in demand if there is already a stable population that can be served, which requires a constant influx of capital holders in demand of service. This is why Airbnb exists and is hollowing out rental availability, why Boston as a college town is the way it is, and why there are in fact so many damn tapas bars. Fred Salveucci talked about being able to go north of the expressway in the 70s and being able to get a plate of mac and beans for half a buck. I went looking for a 5$ slice of pizza on my lunch break today around Government Center and found two places that were boarded up and ended up spending 20$ at Chilacates. Cities are being slowly turned into Cancun, complete with the fences to keep out the homeless.

What can be done about this? Obviously the factors we’ve discussed that favor consolidation of housing are mostly either contained within a gordion’s knot of tax policy or intrinsic to capitalism/goods as commodities. But, given that we narrow our objectives to making the rent lower, some obvious weaknesses jump out: increasing the cost of vacancy forces units out of furlough, because companies are no longer able to justify the losses, and increasing real wages increases the availability of capital for workers to spend on rent. These are the prongs I talked about earlier.

Legal means to pursue each prong exist. Both a minimum wage and a maximum wage, depending on their implementation, can potentially increase real wages, and vacancy taxes directly increase the costs of vacancy. The government can also ignore the market and directly mandate maximum rents within certain parameters. This tends to decrease the long term supply of housing for the reasons discussed at the outset, given that if the revenues from house building don’t cover the costs of building, less gets built. However, any political movement that exists exclusively within the white lines of the law fails to genuinely threaten change. Landlords, like bosses, break the law constantly with the impunity that a lawyer provides them against consequence. This is why a healthy dose of illegalism is an important part of any effective political movement. The most direct action one can take is property occupation, or squatting. Squatter’s rights are nearly non-existent in the United States. The most leeway that any state grants to any unknown persons occupying a dwelling is 60 days notice to vacate the property, and there are states that allow no notice evictions or lack statutes governing squatting at all. Every single state regards the occupation of owned property as trespassing, meaning most kinds of squatting are prosecutable offenses. However, squatting, even temporarily in ways that don’t expose the squatter to liability provided they don’t get caught, can seriously impact the value of properties. You have heard of rent lowering gunshots. This is the serious version of that. At the same time, illegal action needs legal defense, both in terms of non-compliance with police to protect those willing to take illegal actions from arrest and in terms of legal, 1st amendment protected disruption to keep focus on the issue. The most effective movements have a radical wing and a institutionalist wing who do not acknowledge each other but share the same tactics and objectives.

If you are housed, you need to be willing to protect and support homeless people because they are your front line. Start or join an Occupy movement, where they are your peers in occupying a public space illegally in a way that is too public to prosecute. Give to people on the street, and smash anti-homeless architecture if nobody is watching. Be willing to distract cops if you see someone doing something dodgy so they can get away. Remember that following the law is a tactic, and so is breaking it.

The case for this being on my transit blog is arguably weak, but I felt compelled after a particularly hateful experience looking at facebook memes about homeless people on the T. You should want those people there. You should want those people breaking down the doors of luxury apartments and setting up shop. You should want them keeping your city safe because the cops you hire to separate you from them will train their guns on you next.

And for gods sake, don’t let your city become a brand. Branding is marketing. Branding is clean, and bloodless, and a gloved hand around your throat that leaves no fingerprints.

#long post

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sleekervae · 2 months ago

Text

Wicked Games ❅ 2

Masterlist

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x socialite!fem!reader

Summary: Sable has a proposition

Warnings: mentions of war, politicians being politicians

Word Count: 4,120

Saying the Hanovers were rich was an understatement. Phillip Hanover, a district resident caught in the crossfire of the First Rebellion, was a desperate bio-engineer determined to protect his family from war. Needing money, he turned to what he knew best: manufacturing medicine. He created topical creams, pain relief pills, antiseptics—anything people needed to heal their battle wounds. Despite his lack of experience, Phillip's experimentation paid off, and his medications became highly sought after for their quick healing properties. Eventually, he moved on to more powerful injections and sedatives, making a name for himself and drawing attention from the Capitol.

Volumnia Gaul believed in keeping enemies close. With Hanover's cutting-edge technology, she knew the Capitol needed him on their side. Backed by Crassus Snow, the Capitol made Hanover an irresistible offer: money, protection, and a legacy. Hanover had a lot to consider, knowing his reputation as a district hero would be destroyed. But in the end, money spoke louder than reputation.

Within six months, Phillip Hanover set up shop in the Capitol. His wife and two children no longer lived in squalor, he had money in his pocket, and he had the sponsorship and support of Panem's superiors. Requests for basic medicines evolved into demands for pushing technological boundaries to extend life expectancy and speed up recovery times. There were even requests for pharmaceutical weapons. Hanover, blinded by dollars and ambition, never paused to question what he was doing. If General Snow had a request, he would do his best to fulfill it.

His empire would continue to expand even after the war: manufacturing warehouses, marketing, and a great reputation for quick and effective results catapulted the Hanover name into Panem infamy. Hanover Pharmaceuticals would draft up different contracts between the districts, delivering the most and effective products to those districts who had the most to offer. And very quickly the Hanover name represented success, entrepreneurship, and respect. It also garnered a traitorous, slimy reputation in the eyes of the districts.

It was no matter to Phillip, though he made sure to remind his two daughters every chance he got of where they came from. From shoes with holes in the soles to satin dresses, from beds with squeaky springs and no heat in the winter to lavish vacations with the best accommodations possible. The eldest sister, Seline, was grounded and empathetic to their past, while her little sister, Sable, was determined to rid herself of any trace of District 3. She was the baby of the family, of course she was spoiled rotten. Though nevertheless, the sisters stayed close as they grew up.

The Hanover estate was quiet, save for the soft clink of china as Sable’s parents sat across from her in the drawing room. Her mother, Eleanor, looked frazzled, her fingers wringing the hem of her floral shawl. Her father, Phillip, sat with a stony expression, his frustration barely concealed.

“Sable, darling,” Eleanor began, her voice tinged with a blend of worry and exasperation, “you know how important it is for us to see you settled. You’re not getting any younger, and we’ve invested so much in your future. We can’t just let all of our fortune go to waste after we’re gone.”

Sable looked up from her book, her gaze indifferent. “I don’t see what the rush is. I’m perfectly content as I am.”

Phillip leaned forward, his voice edged with frustration. “Content? Look at your sister. She’s already engaged to a respectable man, and you—well, you’re still playing the socialite with no real direction. You can’t expect to squander our wealth and remain unbound forever.”

Sable raised an eyebrow, her expression aloof. “Seline’s choices have nothing to do with me. I have my own plans.”

Eleanor’s face crumpled with worry. “But you’re not a child anymore, Sable. We’ve arranged a fine match for you—someone who’s well-suited to continue our legacy. It’s not just about marrying for love; it’s about securing our place and our future.”

Sable’s gaze turned cold, her lips curling slightly. “And what if I’m not interested in your arrangements? I don’t see why I should settle for a life I don’t want just to please you.”

Phillip’s frustration boiled over. “This isn’t just about you, Sable. It’s about our family’s standing, our name. You can’t just live frivolously and expect everything to be handed to you. If you don’t take this opportunity, you risk throwing away everything we’ve worked for.”

Sable closed her book with deliberate slowness, standing up and smoothing her dress with practiced elegance. “I’m aware of my duties, but I refuse to be coerced into a life I have no interest in.”

Eleanor’s voice trembled as she tried one last time. “Sable, please, consider what we’re asking. We only want what’s best for you.”

Sable’s eyes were steely as she met her mother’s gaze. “You haven't known what's best for me since I was a child; when we came to this god-forsaken city in search of a better life.”

Phillip’s face was a mask of frustration as he glanced at his wife. “And that better life put that dress on you, as well as made sure you had food and --”

"And warm bed and a roof over our heads and never had to want for anything again," she started out of the room, her book clenched under her arm as she turned her back on her parents, "I'm well aware,"

The weight of their expectations felt distant to her, overshadowed by her own desires and independence. They were right about one thing: she couldn't keep up with the socialite game for the rest of her life. She needed stability, a plan to make sure she came out on the other side.

Sable grew up with the understanding that if you wanted something bad enough, you would work for it by any means necessary. Any means. And being the daughter of one of the richest families in the Capitol brought her a lot of attention. She embodied birth-of-Hollywood glamour, sophisticated and beautiful beyond debate. She thrived on the attention, after all. Because of her looks and her background, people didn't give her much credit for her brain.

To the blight of businessmen, rich kids, and even a few Hunger Games victors, Sable had a rare talent for listening and remembering. Whether it was over martinis or during intimate pillow talk, men found themselves spilling their thoughts, their secrets, to her. She made them feel comfortable and safe. Though if she had to use that information to her advantage, so be it. Why else would she have been invited to Senator Reed's gala event?

Allister, after one too many drinks, had confided in her about his numerous affairs. If that information ever got out, it would lead to a massive scandal and the destruction of his supposedly "happy" home life. Sable didn't mind holding onto such secrets. In fact, she relished the power they gave her. Very quickly her societal position was pushed and pushed, right until it brought her to the presidential candidates themselves.

To Coriolanus Snow.

His name kept surfacing after the 10th Hunger Games, lingering in whispers and headlines even after he graduated and vanished for a while. He re-emerged only a year ago, launching a campaign and preaching about his run for office.

Sable watched him on her television late one night, utterly fascinated. He was so well-spoken, his charm radiating through the screen. But it was his eyes that captivated her the most. Icy blue, sharp, and intense—they held your attention, convincing you of anything he said. And there was no denying how handsome he was.

As she watched, a distinct feeling washed over her. She was staring at her next big fish, her ticket to more power than she could ever dream of.

Coriolanus stood before the mirror, meticulously adjusting the knot of his tie when Garrison stormed into the room, his face flushed with frustration.

“Snow, you’re slipping,” Garrison snapped, slamming a folder down on the vanity. “You’re falling behind in the polls, and it’s not because of policy. It’s because people don’t like you. They don’t trust you.”

Coriolanus’s jaw tightened, but he kept his gaze on his reflection. “They don’t need to like me, Garrison. They need to respect me.”

Garrison shook his head, exasperation clear in his voice. “Respect isn’t enough! You're your father's son! You need to have the connection with the people that he didn't, show them you’re one of them—or at least pretend to be. Your charm alone won’t win this. You need to be likable, Coriolanus, or this entire campaign will be for nothing.”

Coriolanus turned to face him, eyes cold and calculating. “And how exactly do you propose I do that, Garrison?” His voice was sharp, laced with impatience. “You want me to throw on a fake smile and kiss babies? I already have to attend every tedious social event and pretend to care about their trivial concerns. How do you imagine I can possibly ‘up my appeal’?”

Garrison met his gaze, refusing to back down. “It’s not about faking it—it’s about showing a side of yourself that the public hasn’t seen. You need to humanize yourself, Coriolanus. Show them you’re more than just a politician with a thirst for power. They need to see you care about more than winning.”

Coriolanus arched an eyebrow, skepticism plain on his face. “And where do you suggest I find this hidden reservoir of charm and relatability? What am I supposed to do, stroll into the garden party tonight and start mingling with the common folk, asking about their families and hobbies?”

“Yes,” Garrison replied firmly. “Exactly that. Start tonight. You have to show them you’re one of them—someone they can relate to, someone they might actually like. Engage with them, listen to their concerns, show a little humility. It’s not about pandering to senators; it’s about making them feel like you’re on the people's side.”

Coriolanus’s expression darkened as he considered Garrison’s words. The very idea of lowering himself to appease the masses made his stomach turn, but the stakes were too high to ignore the advice. He knew Garrison was right. Like it or not, he needed the people’s support if he was going to win this campaign.

“Fine,” Coriolanus said through gritted teeth, turning back to the mirror. “I’ll play along. But don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

Garrison sighed, relief mingled with exasperation. “Just remember, Coriolanus: power isn’t worth much if no one’s willing to follow you. Tonight, give them a reason to believe in you.”

Coriolanus finished adjusting his tie, his reflection staring back at him with a steely resolve. He wasn’t about to let something as trivial as public appeal stand between him and the presidency. If he had to charm the Capitol’s common folk, he would—at least for tonight.

As he smoothed his maroon jacket and headed for the door, his mind was already working out how to play this new role, how to bend it to his advantage. Because in the end, it didn’t matter what mask he wore, as long as he won.

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the Capitol's most exquisite garden, where flowers from every district bloomed in a riot of color. The air was thick with the scent of roses and the murmur of idle chatter, punctuated by the clink of crystal glasses. Coriolanus Snow stood near a marble fountain, engaged in a measured conversation with Senator Gallis, a man whose support he desperately needed for his campaign.

As Coriolanus spoke, his eyes occasionally flickered over the senator’s shoulder, scanning the crowd. He was alert, focused, but there was a simmering tension just beneath the surface. He felt it keenly, the way the garden's soft light brushed against the evening’s most beautiful attendee. And then, as if summoned by his thoughts, she appeared.

Sable Hanover glided across the grass, her tweed ensemble a cozy cascade of baby blue that seemed to catch the last rays of sunlight. She moved with the effortless grace of someone who knew all eyes were on her and relished in it. Her gaze locked onto Coriolanus, a smile curving her lips as she approached.

“Senator Gallis,” she said smoothly, her voice honeyed and warm, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important.”

The senator turned to her, his expression softening as he took in the sight of her. “Not at all, Miss Hanover. It’s always a pleasure.”

Coriolanus felt the slightest pull at the corner of his mouth, an involuntary reaction to her presence. He kept his composure, but his eyes lingered on her, taking in the curve of her neck, the way the light caught the gleam of her pixie hair. There was something about her—something that had him tensing with interest and a vague unease, like he was playing a game where she already knew the outcome.

Sable’s gaze flicked to him, and he saw the glint of mischief in her eyes. “Mr. Snow, you’ve been monopolizing the senator’s time all evening,” she teased lightly. “I was hoping you might save a moment for me. I have something I’d like to discuss—privately.”

The senator raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the exchange. “I suppose that’s my cue to mingle,” he said, a hint of reluctance in his tone. “But don’t think you’re off the hook, Snow. We’ll continue our discussion later. Be kind to him, Sable.”

She smiled back innocently, "Always,"

Coriolanus nodded, watching the senator slip away into the crowd, but his thoughts were already on Sable. She stepped closer, her perfume—a heady mix of jasmine and something darker—filling the air between them.

“Let me guess,” he said, a hint of dry amusement in his voice, “You’re going to make me regret letting the senator go.”

“Maybe,” she replied, tilting her head as she considered him. “But then again, maybe I’ll make it worth your while.”

He couldn’t help but be drawn to her, his gaze tracing the line of her collarbone, the way her lips parted slightly as she spoke. The garden, with all its splendor, seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of them standing amidst the blooms.

“Would you get me a drink?” Sable asked, her tone casual, but there was an undercurrent to her words that made it feel like more.

Coriolanus studied her, the way she didn’t fidget, didn’t rush. She simply waited, confident in her request, her eyes never leaving his. There was something almost thrilling in her boldness, in the way she so easily pulled him into her orbit. He was no stranger to charm, but hers was different—it was dangerous, intoxicating, and he wasn’t entirely sure he could resist it.

“Of course,” he said, his voice low as he offered her his arm. She took it without hesitation, her fingers light on his sleeve, and they walked together toward the bar set beneath a pergola draped in ivy.

As they moved through the garden, whispers trailed in their wake, but neither of them seemed to care. Coriolanus couldn’t help but notice how perfectly she fit at his side, as if she belonged there. His mind, usually sharp and calculating, was dulled by her proximity, by the brush of her arm against his as they walked.

When they reached the bar, he signaled the bartender and ordered them both a drink. As they waited, Sable turned to him, her expression more serious now, though the spark in her eyes remained.

“You've really captured my interest,” she said, her voice soft enough that it was only for him. “I believe you’re going to win this campaign, you know.”

Coriolanus met her gaze, his curiosity piqued. “And what makes you so sure?”

“Because I know how badly you want it,” she replied, leaning in just a fraction closer. “And because I know how badly I want to see you win.”

"Really?" he cocked his head.

"Really," she nodded, "Look back through history, you'll find a plethora of decrepit, fuddy-duddy leaders who just continue to enforce the old rules that ran when they were our age. Modern problems require modern solutions after all... and modern leaders, too,"

"I couldn't agree with you more," he replied, "I take it your family will be donating to my campaign?"

Sable chuckled harmoniously, "No, my father has no interest in your campaign. Again -- old, decrepit, fuddy-duddy," she shrugged.

Coriolanus' interest continued to peak, "Then, why are you here?" he asked, "You'll pardon my rudeness, but I doubt you have enough funds to supplement in this election,"

"Well, obviously not," she shook her head nonchalantly, "I have something better. Me,"

"You?"

"Yes,"

The bartender placed two perfectly chilled martinis before them, none the wiser to their hushed conversation. Coriolanus meanwhile wasn't sure whether to burst out laughing, surely there had to be a gag.

"I don't understand," he said, "What exactly are you offering, Ms. Hanover?"

"Myself," she replied simply, "You're lacking in the polls on account of public appeal, are you not? What better way to shake that icy cold exterior than by having one of the Capitol's most eligible women on your arm?"

She appeared completely unfazed by her proposition as she sipped her martini. Her words sent a thrill through him, a rush of something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Desire, yes, but also something more—something that told him this woman, with all her beauty and cunning, could be more than just another admirer. To put simply, he was intrigued.

Coriolanus took a brief look around, establishing that for once the attention was well off of him,"Let's speak in private,"

Grabbing his drink, they snaked around the perimeter of the party until they could come to a quieter area of the garden, not well populated and out of view from the party guests.

"You seem at a loss for words, Mr. Snow," Sable grinned.

"I'm just trying to wrap my head around this, Ms. Hanover," Coriolanus grumbled back, "You're proposing that you... and I... date?" it sounded so drawl and simple when he put it like that.

She nodded, however, "Yes. Well -- not actually. Think of it as something a little more... transactional. Essentially, we pretend we're dating."

Coriolanus still thought she was joking, "You must be really bored, or pulling one over me real good," he said.

"Of course not," Sable replied, "I have a reputation of my own in this city. If the public see you with me, you're bound to earn yourself some brownie points. More brownie points means more numbers in the polls in your favour,"

Coriolanus’s eyes narrowed as Sable’s words lingered in the air, her voice smooth and calculated. The way she leaned in, her eyes gleaming with a mix of challenge and allure, set his mind racing. The conversation with Garrison echoed in his thoughts—you need to be likable, Coriolanus…show them you’re one of them. He’d dismissed the idea at first, but now, as Sable stood before him, offering something more than just flirtation, he began to connect the dots.

Here she was, a woman who could help him bridge that gap, who understood the Capitol’s social landscape better than anyone. Sable wasn't just another pretty face; she was someone who could navigate the intricacies of high society with ease, someone who knew how to charm, manipulate, and command attention. She had the kind of influence that could be incredibly useful—if he played his cards right.

Coriolanus could see it now, the path forming in his mind: a partnership of sorts, where Sable's social prowess would complement his strategic mind. She could help him soften his image, make him more palatable to the Capitol's elite, and by extension, to the broader public. If she was willing to throw her support behind him, it could be the key to turning things around in the polls. Likability, after all, was just another form of power.

He leaned in slightly, mirroring her movement, his voice low and measured. “And what’s in it for you, Sable? Why align yourself with me?”

A slow smile spread across her lips, her eyes flicking to his as if she could see the gears turning in his head. “Because, Coriolanus,” she said softly, “you and I are cut from the same cloth. We both know what it means to want something so badly that we’ll do whatever it takes to get it. And I happen to think you’re the best bet for what’s coming next in Panem.”

Coriolanus studied her, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned closer, voice dropping even lower, “Fascinating pitch. Now, what’s your real reason, Sable?”

"Excuse me?"

"Nobody takes their hobby that seriously, especially not national affairs," he told her, "So tell me, what's your reason?"

For a moment, she said nothing, just tilted her head and regarded him with a quiet intensity. Then, as if the idea had always been there, waiting for the perfect moment to surface, her lips curved into a knowing smile. “Alright,” she began, her tone casual, as if discussing the weather, “I’ll tell you, but you're not going to like it,”

He raised a brow, intrigued, "Try me,"

“My parents,” she said, leaning back slightly, fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass, “have been on my back for years about settling down, being a good little house wife. They want me to marry into another high-ranking family, cement my position in Capitol society, yada-yada-yada. You know the drill,”

Coriolanus gave a small nod, already sensing where this was going, but he waited.

“And you, Coriolanus,” she said, her voice dipping into something close to amusement, “are the perfect solution to that problem. You’re on the rise, you’re ambitious, easy on the eyes, and marrying you would get them off my back for good. Plus, it would strengthen your image. A solid union—two powerhouses joined together,”

He blinked, processing her words, but before he could speak, she raised a hand.

“Don’t get me wrong, though,” she continued, eyes meeting his squarely, “I have no interest in you romantically. Behind closed doors, you can do whatever you please. I’m not here for that. This would be a marriage of convenience, nothing more. A partnership—one that benefits us both,”

Coriolanus sat back, his fingers steepled in thought. “You want me to marry you,” he said, slowly, testing the words on his tongue.

“Not immediately, of course. But over time. Think about it,” she said, leaning forward again, her smile turning sharper, “It’s a win-win. We get the Capitol’s attention. We silence anyone who doubts our ambitions. And most importantly, we get what we both want—power, respect, and control over our own lives,”

He could see the calculation in her eyes, the cold pragmatism. She wasn’t lying. For Sable, this was business. Nothing more, nothing less. And that, in some strange way, made the proposal almost… enticing.

“You’d really go through with it?” he asked, still weighing the possibilities.

“Absolutely,” she replied without hesitation. “And trust me, you’ll never have a more loyal partner in this game. Just as long as we keep everything… business,”

Coriolanus felt a flicker of satisfaction at her words. She was offering more than just flirtation or manipulation; she was offering an alliance. One that could give him the edge he needed in a campaign that was rapidly slipping out of his control.

Hell, what did he have to lose?

He allowed himself a small, calculated smile. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of understanding. “But if we’re going to do this, I need to know you’re all in, Sable. No half-measures.”

Her smile widened, a flash of something darker, more determined, passing through her eyes. “Oh, I’m all in. But only if you promise me one thing.”

“And what’s that?” he asked, curiosity piqued.

“That when you win,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, “you remember who helped you get there.”

Coriolanus held her gaze, the implications clear. This was more than just a casual encounter—it was the beginning of something far more strategic. “Consider it a deal,” he replied, his tone laced with intent.

Sable’s smile was triumphant as she took a step back, giving him a final, lingering look. “Then why don’t we return to the party, we can chat more over dinner?”

As he led her away from the crowd, Coriolanus felt a renewed sense of purpose. Garrison’s words still echoed in his mind, but now they felt less like a burden and more like an opportunity. With Sable by his side, he could craft the image he needed, win the support he lacked—and ultimately, secure the power he craved.

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