#impeccable final shot also

[libraryleopard]

i screamed out loud five separate time while watching oddity (2024) dir. damian mccarthy and if anything is a testimony to a good horror movie that definitely is

[merge-conflict]

not your scene

come paint my face come take my hand I do not wish you to understand some day you too will go to war and by that time may you not fear death anymore

(x)

[duplicitousfate]

Hear me out: Lamb but two 👀

Literally everyone knows about there being two lambs. The Bishops, the cultists, the crowns. Everyone EXCEPT Narinder

It made... quite a first impression when he was later revived after bringing the bishops into the cult

Now the whole cult's placing bets on how long it'll take for him to figure out which of the lambs killed him and which lamb he kinda, maybe, likes hates with a passion.

(Art by @gatoma )

No one looks at tumblr blogs anymore so under the cut is more in depth refs about the bishops and such! WARNING: LONG.

LAMBERT: Masc They/Them. The main caretaker of the followers. The few times they go on crusades, they prefer the blunderbuss and the golden fleece combo. Did, in fact, one-shot Leshy’s fight with this min-max strategy.

They are gentle and treat the followers more like their kids than their followers for the most part. They are the one that loves Narinder, but for the sake of the bit, they keep it subtle.

LAMBARI: Femme They/Them. The main crusader. They can work with generally any weapon, but will refuse and in fact rage-quit if they get the gauntlets or the dagger, preferring to strike heavy. They were the one that made the original deal with The One Who Waits, and was more than happy to slay the bishops.

They are more stern, preferring to take a more tough-love approach that will tell you immediately if they don’t like something. They eventually get with Shamura, and have the goal of restoring their mind.

NARINDER had absolutely NO idea there were two lambs until he was brought back to life, after his siblings were brought into the herd. The twins did what any pair of identical twins would do: Fuck with him.

Now, he not only has to figure out which one was the lamb that struck him down, but also which one he began to harbor feelings for. The entire cult is now taking bets.

His role in the cult is undefined, as he is far more occupied in figuring out his conundrum.

SHAMURA was the first Bishop of the Old Faith, and the first to be betrayed by Narinder. They were the last Bishop to be struck down by the lambs, and the last to be brought back. The God of War and Knowledge, the most savage and yet the most diplomatic, attempting to warn the Lambs of their imminent betrayal and the quickest to listen and convert when they bested their brother.

They have the most vague position in the cult, often focusing on the personal care of Lambari after their long, grueling crusades. They are often seen at the refinery otherwise, when there’s nothing else to keep their many hands busy.

KALLAMAR was the second Bishop of the Old Faith, the second to be betrayed. Third to be struck down, third to be brought back. The God of Pestilence and Vitality may be a coward, but he is an impeccable fighter, providing the most trouble thanks to how devoted his followers are to him.

While his official role is that of a healer and the main refiner, he will be seen in various roles to help any number of his multiple boyfriends. He is also often the one sent out on missionary work as the most charismatic of the siblings.

HEKET was the fourth Bishop of the Old Faith, and the third to be betrayed. The second to be cut down and brought back, and the first to make moves when the group acts as a unit. The God of Famine and Fertility took over when Shamura’s injury proved too debilitating, acting as the big sister despite being the second youngest. She is strong, stern, and acts in the best interest of the siblings, which the Lambs respect despite the implications of her involvement with the extinction of the sheep.

She is the strong silent type, overseeing the farming and cooking. She keeps to herself, when she isn’t busy making everyone swoon, intentionally or otherwise. Many men’s hearts have been broken when she made her preference for women clear. Much to the delight of many girls.

LESHY was the final Bishop of the Old Faith, the youngest and last to be betrayed. He was the first to be struck down and the first to be brought back, both times cut down in one single attack from Lambert. As the God of Chaos and Order, and someone who respects a good fight, he was easily converted thanks to Lambert’s dedicated attention to dealing with him.

Any attempts to assign Leshy to a duty end in failure. He often does whatever work interests him that day, to mixed results. So his “official” role is that of an enforcer, which he often takes to mean “the bookie, right? The guy that keeps track of all the bets? Yeah I got that, no problem.“  But he has no hesitation when it comes to helping Lambert take care of the cult.

[goldsainz]

# DREW STARKEY — BEHIND THE SCENES !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ a recollection of moments from when you and drew filmed your first movie together.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ probably inaccurate acting scenes, slight angst.

003. NOTE !

✯ guys i’ve spent more time conjuring up ideas about the fictional movie (knowing greek mythology paid off) than actually writing this. again, zendaya is just a face claim for the social media parts but the reader can be imagined as anything or anyone you want! this is also the longest piece of writing i’ve ever done so i really hope it was worth the wait 🫶

word count : 6,6k

There was something undeniably thrilling about starting a new movie project. It wasn’t just the act of filming that exhilarated you, no, it was the entire experience: stepping into a fresh role, meeting new colleagues, and immersing yourself in the intricacies of a new story. Each character brought a unique set of challenges and emotions, making acting as intoxicating as it was fulfilling.

When your agent first mentioned Damien Chazelle’s latest project, it felt like the stars had aligned. A psychological thriller, a role so complex and sought after—it was the kind of opportunity actors dream about. After various auditions and callbacks, you finally got the call: you’d landed the part. But nothing could have prepared you for the shock of learning that Drew Starkey would also be starring in the film.

You’d first met Drew during Variety’s Actors on Actors interview series. The chemistry between you two had been immediate, magnetic, and brimming with potential. The interview itself was lighthearted, but fans couldn’t stop buzzing about the dynamic between you afterward. Social media was flooded with calls for you both to star in a film together. Little did they know that dream would soon become reality.

Your first day on set felt surreal. Despite all your preparation, a flicker of nervous energy pulsed in your chest. It wasn’t just about embodying Isabella, a role that demanded every ounce of emotional depth you had; it was about reuniting with Drew after the whirlwind of speculation and excitement that followed your previous encounter.

Then, as if on cue, you spotted him. He stood across the bustling set, deep in conversation with Damien Chazelle. Already in costume—tailored slacks, an impeccably pressed shirt, and a hint of disheveled hair that somehow enhanced his charm—he looked every bit the enigmatic and manipulative art dealer, Theo. It was almost unsettling how effortlessly he slipped into character.

A pang of nervous energy tightened in your chest, but you masked it quickly. You were no stranger to working alongside talented actors, but something about Drew made you want to push yourself even harder—to impress him, match his intensity, or simply hold your own against the charisma that seemed to radiate from him.

As Drew turned and caught sight of you, his expression shifted. A flicker of recognition passed over his face, followed by a grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He excused himself from his conversation with Damien and strode toward you, his step casual yet deliberate.

“Well, look who’s here,” he said, his tone teasing but undeniably warm. “The artist herself.”

“Drew,” you replied, matching his energy with a smirk. “Or should I say, Theo?”

“Touché,” he shot back, his grin widening as he stopped in front of you. “Guess we’re both stepping into some big shoes this time.”

The air between you hummed with unspoken energy, the hum of the crew around you fading into the background.

“So,” he began, his voice quieter now, tinged with sincerity. “How are you feeling about all this? Ready to dive into the chaos?”

You chuckled softly, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling beneath the surface. “As ready as I’ll ever be. And you?”

His gaze softened, the playful edge giving way to something earnest. “Same. But if there’s anyone who can bring Isabella to life, it’s you. You’ve got this.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a warm blanket, bolstering your confidence. “Thanks, Drew,” you said, your voice touched with gratitude. “That means a lot.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Just don’t forget to save some of that intensity for the scenes. I hear Theo and Isabella have… interesting dynamics.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile curving your lips. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. Just try to keep up, Starkey.”

His laughter was genuine, the kind that made your chest feel lighter. “Challenge accepted.”

The set had an almost electric feel today. The tension in the air mirrored the intensity of the scene you were about to film, a confrontation that pushed Isabella to her limits. Drew had just finished his scenes as Theo, but instead of retreating to his trailer for a break, he chose to stay behind the cameras, watching you as you prepared for your big moment.

He leaned against a quiet corner of the set, his arms crossed, his gaze never leaving you. You were already in character, your body language shifting as you transformed into Isabella. Drew had seen it all; the way you could disappear into your role, the way you made every moment feel alive, even the smallest of gestures. It was magnetic, captivating, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

You were standing across from a male crew member, discussing the next scene. Drew noticed how naturally you interacted with him, the ease with which you joked around, the warm laughter that escaped you as you shared a quiet moment between takes. There was nothing flirtatious about it, nothing intentional. It was just your charm, your ability to connect with anyone, to make them feel like they were the only person in the room.

But as Drew watched, a pang of something unfamiliar twisted in his chest. The crew member—an assistant director, he knew—was praising you. “You’ve really outdone yourself today,” the man said with a grin, clapping you on the back. “Isabella’s depth? Incredible. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone pull that off quite like you.”

You smiled, your cheeks flushing with the kind of humility that made Drew’s heart ache. “Thank you, that’s all I wanted,” you said, clearly grateful for the acknowledgment but never one to boast.

Drew’s grip on the railing tightened, a strange feeling settling in his gut as he watched you laugh and engage so effortlessly. He had always admired your talent—hell, he had always been in awe of it—but today, for some reason, it felt different. The warmth in the crew member’s praise, the way he seemed to linger a little longer, a little too long, sent a sharp twinge of jealousy through Drew. He hated the way it felt, hated how quickly it consumed him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to be appreciated—he did. You deserved all the recognition in the world. But the knowledge that someone else was seeing the very qualities he had admired in you from the start, that someone else could see what made you so unique... it made something inside him stir.

And it wasn’t just admiration he felt for you—it was something deeper, something he had tried to ignore ever since that first interview. He could remember the spark between you both, the effortless connection that had only grown stronger since then. Every moment with you, every conversation, had somehow led him here. To this feeling, this painful realization that he wasn’t just drawn to you as a friend or a co-star—he was falling for you.

But he wasn’t sure if you saw him the same way. Or if you ever would.

He swallowed hard, trying to shake off the feeling, but it lingered, gnawing at him as the scene began. Drew watched from the shadows as you took your position, your posture shifting with the weight of Isabella’s inner turmoil. The camera rolled, and the world seemed to disappear. He wasn’t thinking about the crew member anymore, or the way you had smiled at him.

No, Drew was too focused on the way you delivered your lines. Every word you spoke seemed to come from a place of real pain, real desperation. It was like watching a storm roll in, one that consumed everything in its path.

When Damien called cut, the set fell silent for a beat. Drew’s breath caught in his throat. You were brilliant. He’d known it for a long time, but watching you right here, right now, brought it all to the forefront—how far you had come, how much of yourself you put into every scene.

He watched you stand tall, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes still distant from the intensity of the scene you’d just played. And as you looked around, Drew’s gaze softened. You were remarkable.

The crew member who had been praising you earlier walked up to you again, and Drew couldn’t help but feel that same uncomfortable stir in his chest. He had to admit, it wasn’t just the praise that bothered him—it was the way this guy kept looking at you. Drew quickly averted his eyes, his jaw tightening as he turned his attention back to the crew.

But as you turned toward Drew, your eyes meeting his for just a second, something passed between you, something unspoken. You offered him a small, genuine smile, the kind that only he seemed to get. And in that brief moment, everything else faded away.

He took a breath, forcing the jealousy back down. The weight of it, the sting, wasn’t going to cloud this moment. He knew what he felt. It was real, it was undeniable, and maybe, just maybe, there was still time to figure it all out. But for now, all he could do was admire you from afar, watch as you brought your character to life, and hope that one day, you’d see him the way he saw you.

And with that thought, Drew finally stepped forward, his resolve firming, ready to give you the space and respect you deserved while also knowing that there was so much more he wanted to say.

The scene you were filming was a culmination of everything Isabella had been building toward—raw, vulnerable, and utterly shattering. It wasn’t just a performance; it was a reckoning, the moment when all her carefully buried pain and longing erupted to the surface. Every word you spoke felt like tearing open a wound, every gesture a desperate plea for salvation. The air was thick with tension, and you could feel the weight of every eye on set, holding their breath, waiting to see if you could pull it off.

Drew, as Theo, stood before you, towering in every sense of the word. His presence wasn’t just physical; it consumed the space, dominating the scene like a storm about to break. His voice, low and cutting, delivered lines that felt like knives slicing through the air, leaving no room to hide. When his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity was unbearable, like he could see right into you—not just Isabella, but you.

The camera captured the moment your composure shattered, tears spilling as your voice cracked under the weight of the scene. You weren’t sure where Isabella ended and you began anymore. The pain felt too real, too sharp, and when Damien finally called “cut,” the word sliced through the tension like a knife. The silence that followed was deafening, a stark contrast to the storm you’d just weathered.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, the rawness of the moment clinging to you like a second skin. Your chest heaved as you struggled to come back to yourself, but the emotions wouldn’t let go. Your hands trembled at your sides, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you thought you might break apart completely.

“Hey,” Drew’s voice cut through the haze, soft but insistent. His hand was on your arm before you even realized he’d crossed the room. His touch was grounding, his presence a lifeline. “Look at me,” he said, his tone low, coaxing.

You turned your head slowly, meeting his eyes, and the concern there undid you. Your breath hitched, and a tear slid down your cheek before you could stop it. “I… I don’t know how long I can keep doing this,” you whispered, the words tumbling out, raw and unfiltered. “It’s too much. I feel like I’m drowning.”

Drew didn’t hesitate. He stepped closer, his hand sliding from your arm to your shoulder, then to the small of your back, pulling you gently but firmly into his embrace. You froze for a moment, caught between the instinct to hold it together and the overwhelming need to let go. His arms wrapped around you, warm and steady, and the dam broke.

“I can’t,” you choked out, your voice muffled against his chest. “I feel like I left everything out there, and there’s nothing left of me. Nothing.”

His grip tightened, his hand cradling the back of your head as his fingers threaded gently through your hair. “Shh,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re not empty. You’re just wide open right now, and that’s what makes this real. That’s what makes you extraordinary.”

You clung to him, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as sobs wracked your body. He didn’t rush you, didn’t try to fix it or make it better. He just held you, his own breathing steady and calm, like he was anchoring you to the world.

“I saw you out there,” he whispered after a moment, his lips brushing against your temple. “You weren’t just acting. You were her. Every ounce of pain, every flicker of hope—you brought it to life. You made them feel it. You made me feel it.”

You pulled back slightly, your tear-streaked face tilted up to meet his gaze. His eyes were glassy, his own emotions barely restrained, and the vulnerability between you was electric. “But what if it’s not enough?” you asked, your voice breaking.

“It is,” he said firmly, his hand cupping your face now, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “It’s more than enough. You’re enough.” His voice cracked on the last word, the raw sincerity in it making your chest tighten.

The world around you seemed to blur, the sounds of the crew preparing for the next take fading into the background. All you could see, all you could feel, was Drew. He gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his hand steadying your shoulder.“You’ve got this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but laced with unwavering conviction. “And I’ve got you. Always.”

The day had been long—endless takes, precision, and the kind of emotional exhaustion that made every muscle in your body ache. Filming had wrapped for the day, but the atmosphere on set hadn’t fully shifted. The quiet hum of equipment and the occasional voices from the crew still echoed around you, but you felt the weight of the day lift as you retreated to the solitude of your trailer.

You were halfway through removing your costume when a soft knock at the door caught your attention. It was a gentle knock, familiar in its rhythm, and you immediately recognized it.

“Come in,” you called, already knowing who it was.

The door creaked open, and there stood Drew, leaning against the frame with a lazy smile that instantly made the tension in your shoulders ease.

“Long day?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, and there was a glint of playfulness in his eyes, but it was tempered with something warmer, something more tender.

“Understatement,” you replied, rolling your eyes, though your smile betrayed the exhaustion you were trying to hide.

He nodded and pushed the door open a little more, stepping inside. The space felt smaller with him in it, but somehow it didn’t feel crowded. It felt… comfortable. Safe.

Drew’s gaze drifted over to the small sofa beside the window, and without a word, he took a seat, kicking his shoes off and stretching his legs out. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he seemed to move, like he was made to fit into this small space as if he belonged here, with you.

You finished removing the last of the costume and dropped it into the nearby hamper, but instead of diving into your usual post-filming routine of unwinding, you found yourself walking over to him, drawn to the quiet energy between you. He looked up at you, his gaze softening as you neared.

“Come here,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper, as if the very sound of it could pull you closer.

You didn’t hesitat to sit down beside him. There was a comfortable silence between you two, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. You leaned back against the cushions, the heat from his body radiating beside you.

Drew turned his head slightly, catching your eye. His expression was different from how he’d been on set—this wasn’t the charismatic, calculated Theo. This was Drew, the man you had come to know off-camera. His gaze was tender, almost searching, as if he was asking permission for something more.

Without a word, he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing over yours before lacing them together. The small contact sent a flutter through you, the simple act of his touch carrying an intimacy that felt far more profound than it had any right to be.

“Can I just…” he began, his voice trailing off for a moment before he squeezed your hand gently. “Can I just be here with you for a while? No cameras, no lines, just us?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’d like that.”

His thumb began to trace soft circles over the back of your hand, and you leaned into him, the quiet between you two settling into something even deeper than physical proximity. His body was warm, and his scent—fresh and slightly woody—wrapped around you like a blanket, comforting in its familiarity.

“You were incredible today,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His words held no pretense, just raw sincerity. “Every time I see you step into a scene, it’s like you bring something new to the table. I don’t know how you do it.”

You could feel your heart flutter at his praise, but instead of letting it sink in fully, you shifted your focus back to him, tilting your head slightly to catch his eyes. “What about you? You’re kind of a force to be reckoned with, Starkey.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and genuine, and you felt him shift closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. “I’m just trying to keep up with you,” he teased, but there was no mistaking the fondness in his voice. He leaned in just enough for his breath to graze your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Before you could respond, he moved his hand from yours, slowly resting it on your cheek, his touch soft but possessive. The weight of his gaze locked onto yours, and you could feel the air shift between you—charged, magnetic, undeniable.

“I’ve wanted this moment for a while,” he admitted quietly, his thumb grazing your cheekbone.

Your pulse quickened, your breath hitching as his hand slid around to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You didn’t fight it; you closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and filled with the kind of quiet longing that had built between you for weeks now.

The kiss deepened, and everything outside of the small trailer seemed to fade away. There was no set, no crew, no expectations—just the two of you, wrapped up in the space you had created together. It wasn’t hurried or urgent. It was soft, a tender promise without words, like something neither of you had realized you needed until it was happening.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, you found yourself leaning your forehead against his, sharing the same air between you. He smiled, his eyes glimmering with something that went beyond attraction.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection.

You closed your eyes, savoring the quiet after the storm of emotions on set, the gentle sound of his heartbeat in your ear, and the warmth of his embrace. “Me too,” you whispered back, letting the moment stretch on, knowing it was one you’d carry with you long after the lights went down and the cameras stopped rolling.

The morning after your quiet, intimate moment in the trailer felt different. There was a strange kind of weight in the air between you and Drew that neither of you could ignore. The atmosphere on set was charged with an unspoken energy, the kind that hung between two people who had shared something personal but weren’t quite sure how to navigate it in the daylight.

As the crew began setting up for the first scene of the day, you found yourself standing off to the side, absentmindedly checking your script, but every now and then, your eyes would flicker toward Drew. He was standing with Damien, talking animatedly about something, but there was a tightness in his posture that wasn’t there before. He had always exuded confidence, but now, there was a subtle hesitance to his movements—like he was still figuring out where you stood with each other after the kiss.

You could feel it too. The usual camaraderie between you two was laced with something different now. The chemistry was still there, but it felt like a live wire; dangerous and unpredictable. The playful banter that had flowed so easily between you the day before seemed distant, replaced by awkward silences whenever you found yourselves in the same vicinity.

You tried to shake it off. This was your job. You were here to work, to give your best performance, and that had to come first. But no matter how much you told yourself to focus, the tension was inescapable.

The first scene you were filming together was a pivotal one—Isabella’s first real confrontation with Theo, a moment where everything changes between them. Your character was supposed to be cool and collected, but deep down, she was unraveling at the seams. You had to bring all that turmoil, all that internal chaos to the surface in a matter of moments.

When Damien called “Action,” the professional masks slipped on almost instinctively, and you both fell into character.

Drew’s performance was colder today, more distant, his usual charm replaced by a simmering, quiet intensity. His eyes, once warm and full of teasing, now held a cold calculation as they met yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze, and though it was just acting, the memory of the night before lingered, making the scene feel even more charged than it should have been.

“You think you have control of this, Isabella?” Theo’s voice was sharp, the words cutting through the air like a blade.

You shot back, the defiance in Isabella’s eyes glaring through your own. “Your entire scheme depends on me, Theo. Without me, it crumbles to dust. If that’s not control, I don’t know what is.”

The words came easily, but every time you locked eyes with Drew, there was a brief flicker of something behind his gaze—a flicker of the intimacy you’d shared, a memory that was suddenly alive in the space between you. It was hard to shake, and you could tell it was affecting his performance too. His lines weren’t as crisp as usual, his timing slightly off, as though he was distracted.

The tension was palpable, hanging over the scene like a cloud, and the moment you wrapped the scene, the silence that followed felt deafening.

Damien looked between the two of you, his brow furrowing slightly. “Let’s take a break,” he said after a moment, clearly sensing the shift in energy. “Maybe a few minutes to reset?”

You nodded quickly, eager for the space, for the chance to breathe outside of the tight bubble of tension. Drew, on the other hand, didn’t say anything. He simply nodded curtly, giving you a quick glance that made your stomach flip before turning away to walk toward the corner of the set.

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Should you approach him? Pretend nothing had changed? Or should you give him space, let the awkwardness settle, and let the scene breathe?

You didn’t get the chance to think too long. A hand gently touched your shoulder, and you turned to find Cailee Spaney, your co-star, standing beside you, a concerned look on her face.

“You two okay?” she asked, her tone light, but there was a genuine curiosity behind it. She knew you both well enough to sense the shift.

You hesitated. “I think so. Just… a weird energy today, you know?”

Cailee’s eyes flickered over to where Drew stood, chatting with the crew but still glancing in your direction. “It’s pretty obvious to everyone. You’ve got to clear the air, or it’s going to keep hanging over both of you.”

You knew she was right. The unspoken tension between you and Drew wasn’t just something that could be ignored—it would affect the work, the connection between your characters, and maybe even the rest of the team’s comfort. But you weren’t sure how to fix it. How do you go from that intimate moment behind closed doors to this, to being back in the public eye with cameras rolling, no room for vulnerability?

As you stood there, lost in your thoughts, Drew’s voice broke through, calling your name.

“Hey,” he said, walking toward you, his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes uncertain but earnest. “Can we talk?”

You nodded, stepping a little closer to him. There was an intensity in his gaze now, but it wasn’t the cold, calculating Theo you’d seen on set. This was Drew, the one you knew—the one who had kissed you, the one who was just as affected by everything as you were.

“Look,” he started, his voice lower than usual. “I’m not… I don’t want this to be weird. I don’t want it to mess with the work, with the scenes. I just—”

“Yeah,” you interrupted softly, “me neither. It’s just… it’s hard to go back to pretending nothing happened.”

He smiled weakly, and you could see the tension in his face ease a little. “You’re right. But we’ve got this. We’ll figure it out. Just need to get through today, right?”

You took a deep breath, nodding. “Right.”

And for the first time since you’d kissed him, you both shared a moment of quiet understanding—no more words needed. You still didn’t know how this would all play out, but for now, you had a scene to finish, a role to play, and a bond that had quietly shifted in ways neither of you could ignore.

The last day on set arrived like a blur—one moment, you were just starting the project, and now, you were standing in the middle of the set for the final scene, everything winding down. It felt surreal, almost like you were moving through a dream. The camaraderie you’d built with the cast and crew, the long hours, the inside jokes, and the late-night rehearsals were all coming to a close. And yet, there was a weight in the air—one that had little to do with the wrap-up of the film.

You and Drew had navigated the tension between you both for weeks now, silently acknowledging it but never fully addressing it. Both of you had poured your energy into the project, the work taking center stage, but there had always been that quiet pull between you. Now, as you watched the final scene being set up, there was no denying it: this wasn’t just about wrapping the film. There was something unspoken that you knew needed to be said.

Drew was already on set, his costume as Theo impeccably sharp, his eyes distracted as he ran through lines under his breath. He looked different today—softer, like the walls he’d built around himself throughout the project were crumbling.

The last scene between Isabella and Theo was intense, charged with everything they’d been through together. It was a pivotal moment, where they both stood at a crossroads, neither sure of where the future would take them. The connection between you two felt more real than ever, and you knew this was the moment where it all had to come to a head—both on screen and off.

As the crew prepared for the final take, you caught Drew’s eye from across the set. There was something in his gaze—a flicker of hesitation, like he wanted to say something, but the moment wasn’t quite right. You couldn’t let it go.

You moved toward him, your footsteps echoing in the quiet before the chaos of the scene began. As you approached, Drew straightened up, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides.

"Hey," you said, offering him a small smile. “Ready to wrap this up?”

He returned the smile, but there was an unreadable look in his eyes. “Yeah, but... I’ve been thinking.”

You raised an eyebrow, a sense of curiosity stirring in your chest. “About?”

He shifted slightly, the weight of his words hanging between you two. “About us. About... everything.” He swallowed, his usual confident demeanor faltering. “You know, the way things have been between us. We’ve never really talked about it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The air between you felt thick, charged. It was as if the words had been waiting to spill out for weeks, and now, in the stillness of the final day, they couldn’t be contained any longer.

“Drew…” you started, your voice barely a whisper, unsure of what to say.

He stepped closer, the space between you narrowing until it felt like no one else existed. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while now,” he continued, his voice a little rougher than usual, the weight of his feelings making every word feel like it carried more meaning than it ever had before. “I can’t pretend anymore. Not after everything we’ve been through. Not after how I feel about you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to fade into the background. The noise of the set, the crew bustling about, even the upcoming scene—it all vanished as Drew’s words sank in.

“I care about you,” he said, his voice softer now, the intensity of his confession undeniable. “More than I’ve let on. More than I probably should. But I can’t ignore it anymore, and I don’t want to walk away from this without telling you.”

You stood there, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. It felt like a moment frozen in time—one that had been building for weeks, but now that it was finally here, you didn’t know how to respond.

For a beat, you didn’t say anything. You just looked at him, trying to process the rush of emotions his words had triggered. But then, a smile began to tug at the corners of your lips. You took a step closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’m glad you said that,” you whispered, your voice steady, but your emotions running wild beneath the surface. “I’ve been feeling the same way, Drew. I just didn’t know if you felt the same.”

He gave a small, relieved laugh, his eyes brightening with that familiar warmth. “I’ve been trying to convince myself to wait until the film wrapped, until everything calmed down. But every time I looked at you... it just felt like I was lying to myself.”

You laughed softly, the tension between you easing, replaced by something deeper, something real. “I think we’ve both been lying to ourselves,” you said, your hand unconsciously reaching out for his.

Drew’s fingers curled around yours, and for the first time in weeks, there was no awkwardness, no uncertainty—just the simple connection between you both, like a thread that had always been there, waiting to be pulled.

As the crew called for the final take, you both stood there for a moment longer, simply taking in the quiet of the moment before the storm of filming began again.

“Let’s finish this,” Drew said with a grin, his fingers still tightly holding yours.

You nodded, the anticipation in your chest matching the excitement in his eyes. "Yeah. Let’s do this."

The scene was about to begin, but for once, you weren’t worried about the cameras, the crew, or the pressure. For the first time in a long while, you were just here—with him. And that was enough.

As you both walked back onto set, side by side, you knew this moment, this day, was one that would stay with you long after the credits rolled. Drew had confessed his feelings, and the truth between you was no longer hidden. You had one more scene to film, but in that moment, it felt like the beginning of something entirely new.

The post-wrap party was everything you’d imagined it would be—laughter, music, and the celebratory sound ofclinking of glasses. The set was a distant memory now, the whirlwind of the past few months slowly fading into the background as you found yourself in the midst of the crew and cast, celebrating the end of a long, intense journey. The atmosphere was warm, filled with a sense of accomplishment and camaraderie.

Lights twinkled overhead, casting a soft glow over the gathering. The chatter was a mix of congratulatory remarks and funny anecdotes from behind the scenes. You could hear snippets of conversations as people relived the chaos of filming, the challenges, and the triumphs, but amidst it all, your eyes couldn’t help but drift back to Drew.

He was leaning against the bar, chatting with a few of the crew members. Even from across the room, you could feel the pull between you—the magnetic energy that had only intensified since that first kiss. The way he’d laughed with you on set, the way he’d confessed his feelings on that last day—it all felt like a beautiful dream, yet it was real. You couldn’t shake the quiet contentment that had settled in your chest, a feeling that only seemed to grow stronger with every passing minute.

Your heart warmed as you watched him, the soft light from the party highlighting the sharpness of his jaw, the playfulness in his eyes. Drew looked at home here, yet he had a way of making everything feel more meaningful just by being present. He was grounded and alive in a way that made you feel safe, as if you’d found a place in this world where you truly belonged.

Finally, your legs moved on their own, carrying you through the crowd. Each step brought you closer to him, closer to something that felt inevitable. And when he turned toward you, as if he’d sensed your approach, his eyes lit up with the warmth that had become familiar. There was no awkwardness now, no uncertainty—only the comfort of knowing that you and Drew were no longer tiptoeing around each other. What had started as something tentative had grown into something real, something undeniable.

“Hey,” Drew said with that soft smile of his, his voice like home. “I was wondering when you’d come over.”

You smiled back, moving closer to him, feeling the way his presence filled the space between you. “Couldn’t resist. The party’s fun, but... I’d rather be here with you,” you replied, your voice low and sincere.

Drew’s smile deepened, his gaze softening as he looked at you, his eyes full of something that went beyond simple affection. He raised his glass in a mock toast. “To the film, to the work, and to... us, I guess,” he said, a little shy but so genuine that it made your chest ache.

You lifted your own glass to meet his, the soft clink of the glasses an almost imperceptible note in the music that surrounded you. “To us,” you echoed, the words settling deep within you, filling the empty spaces you didn’t even realize existed. It was real now, the connection, the undeniable bond that had been growing between you since the moment you first locked eyes on set.

The music played softly in the background, but in that moment, it felt like everything was quieter—more intimate. You were standing there together, both of you caught in the soft embrace of a night that felt endless, where time stood still. Drew’s presence was a comfort you hadn’t known you needed, and as you stood beside him, a peace settled over you that you hadn’t expected.

“Are you happy with how everything turned out?” Drew asked, his voice sincere, his eyes searching yours for something only you could give him.

You thought for a moment, your heart beating steadily in your chest. The long hours, the late-night rehearsals, the emotional scenes—it had all been a whirlwind. But standing there with Drew, feeling the warmth of his hand resting just above your waist, everything felt clearer. “Yeah,” you said, your voice steady but filled with warmth. “I’m proud of everything we did. Proud of how far we’ve come.”

Drew nodded, his gaze softening, and his lips curved into a smile that made your heart flutter. “Same here. You were incredible. You brought Isabella to life in a way I never thought possible.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Well, you weren’t so bad yourself, Starkey. Theo was... captivating, to say the least.” The words were teasing, but your smile spoke of something deeper—a sense of admiration and respect for everything he’d brought to the character.

His laugh was soft, a sound that sent warmth through your veins, and he moved a little closer, the space between you disappearing. “Thanks. But I think you’re the one who made everything come together. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.” His words were simple, yet they carried a weight that made your chest tighten in the most wonderful way.

The connection between you deepened in that moment, like two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. Drew’s gaze softened, and his voice dropped to a quiet whisper. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured, taking a step closer, his hand slipping into yours. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I know it’s crazy, but... I don’t want this to be just a set thing. What we have, I mean. I don’t want it to end when the film does.”

Your heart raced, and without a second thought, you took a small step toward him, the space between you now nonexistent. “Me neither,” you whispered, your hand gently cupping his face as you looked into his eyes. “I think this is just the beginning, Drew.”

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, and his hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you. Without another word, Drew leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the softest kiss—a kiss that held everything unspoken. It was slow, a gentle exploration, as though both of you were savoring the moment, the sweetness of everything that had led you here.

When you pulled away, the world around you seemed to fade. The music, the laughter, the chatter—it all felt distant, as if the only thing that mattered was Drew, and the feeling of his arms around you, his lips on yours. “Then let’s see where it goes,” he said softly, his breath warm against your cheek.

You smiled, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. The world felt right in a way it hadn’t before. The film was over, but the connection you shared with Drew was just beginning to blossom, and you were content, certain that whatever happened next, you’d face it together.

The night continued around you, but for the two of you, it was just the beginning.

[sneezypeasy]

The Lightning Scene, How Azula Targeted Katara (of All People), and the Doylist Reason Why That Matters

Mention Zuko's sacrifice for Katara in Sozin's Comet Part 3 as part of a pro-Zutara talking point, and invariably you'll get a Pavlovian response of:

"But Zuko would have taken the lightning for anyone."

(Not to be confused with the similar-sounding Pavlovan response, which is "Zuko's sacrifice ain't shit compared to a mouth-watering, strawberry-topped meringue dessert"*, which is actually the only valid counter-argument to how the lightning scene is a bona fide Zutara treasure, but I digress.)

Now, I've talked in depth about how the lightning scene is framed far more romantically than it had any right to be, regardless of how you might interpret the subject on paper; this is an argument which I still stand by 100%. That Zuko would have gotten barbecued for anyone, and that he was at the stage of his arc where his royal kebab-ness represented his final act of redemption, doesn't change the fact that the animators/soundtrack artists decided to pull out all the stops with making this scene hit romantic film tropes bingo by the time it played out on screen.

(I mean, we stan.)

There's also a deeper level to this conundrum, a layer which creeps up on you when you're standing in your kitchen at night, the fridge door open in front of you, your hungry, sleep-deprived brain trying to decide on what to grab for a midnight snack, and quite inexcusably you're struck with the question: Okay, Zuko may indeed have taken the lightning for just anyone, but would Azula have shot the lightning at just anyone?

But there's yet a deeper layer to this question, that I don't recall ever seeing anyone discuss (though if somebody has, mea culpa). And that is: would you have written Zuko taking the lightning for anyone else?

Or in other words, who Zuko would have taken the lightning for is the wrong question to be asking; the question we ought to be asking is who Zuko should have taken the lightning for, instead.

Get your pens out, your Doylist hats on, and turn to page 394. It's time to think like an author for a hot minute.

(If you don't know what I mean by Watsonian vs. Doylist analyses, and/or if you need a refresher course, go have a skim of the first section of this 'ere post and then scoot your ass back to this one.)

So. You're the author. You've written almost the entirety of an animated series (look at you!!) and now you're at the climax, which you've decided is going to be an epic, hero-villain showdown. Classic. Unlike previous battles between these two characters, your hero is going to have a significant advantage in this fight - partly due to his own development as a hero at the height of his strength and moral conviction, and partly because your villain has gone through a bit of a Britney Spears 2007 fiasco, and isn't quite at the top of her game here. If things keep going at this pace, your hero is going to win the fight fairly easily - actually, maybe even too easily. That's okay though, you're a talented writer and you know just what will raise the stakes and give the audience a well-timed "oh shit" moment: you're going to have the villain suddenly switch targets and aim for somebody else. The hero will be thrown off his groove, the villain will gain the upper hand, the turns will have indubitably tabled. Villains playing dirty is the number 1 rule in every villain handbook after all, and each of the last two times your hero's braved this sort of fight he's faced an opponent who ended up fighting dishonourably, so you've got a lovely Rule of Three perfectly lined up for the taking. Impeccable. The warm glow of triumph shines upon you, cherubs sing, your English teachers clap and shed tears of pride. (Except for that one teacher you had in year 8 who hated everybody, but she's a right bitch and we're not talking about her today.)

Now here's the thing: your hero is a hero. Maybe he wasn't always a hero, but he certainly is one now. If the villain goes after an innocent third party, there's basically no-one your hero wouldn't sacrifice himself for. He's a hero! Heroes do be like that, it's kind of their thing. The villain could shoot a bolt of lightning at Bildad the Shuhite, and the only thing that'd stop our boy Redeemed Paladin Bravesoul McGee from shielding his foxy ass is the fact that Bildad the Shuhite has the audacity to exist in a totally different show (disgusten.)

But. You're holding the writer's pen. Minus crossover shenanigans you don't have the licensing or time-travel technology to achieve, you have full control over how this scene plays out. You get to decide which character to target to deliver the greatest emotional impact, the juiciest angst, the most powerful cinematic suspense. You get to decide whose life you'll put at risk, to make this scene the most intense spine-chilling heart-stopper it can possibly be.

This is the climax we're talking about, after all - now is not the time to go easy on the drama.

So.

Do you make the villain target just anyone?

Or do you make the villain target someone the hero cares about?

Perhaps, someone he cares about... a lot?

Maybe even, someone he cares about... more than anybody else?

You are the author. You are the God of this universe. You get to choose.

What would deliver the strongest punch?

If you happen to make the inadvisable decision of browsing through these tropes on TV tropes, aside from wasting the rest of your afternoon (you're welcome), you'll find that the examples listed are littered with threatened and dead love interests, and, well, there's a reason for that. For better or worse, romantic love is often portrayed by authors, and perceived by audiences, as a "true" form of love (often even, "the" true form of love). Which is responsible for the other is a chicken/egg situation, one I'm not going to go into for this post - and while I'm certainly not here to defend this perspective as objectively good, I do think it's worth acknowledging that it not only exists but is culturally rather ubiquitous. (If you're playing the love interest in a story with a hero v. a villain, you might wanna watch your back, is what I'm saying.)

Regardless of whether the vibe you're aiming for is romantic or platonic however, one thing is for certain: if you want maximum oomph, the way to achieve that is by making the villain go after the player whose death would hit the hero the hardest.

And like I said, this doesn't have to be played romantically (although it so often is). There are platonic examples in those trope pages, though it's also important to note that many of the platonic ones do show up in stories where a love interest isn't depicted/available/there's a strong "bromance" element/the hero is low-key ace - and keep in mind too that going that route sometimes runs a related risk of falling into queer-bait territory *coughJohnLockcough*

That said, if there is a canon love-interest available, one who's confessed her love for the hero, one who has since been imprisoned by the villain, one who can easily be written as being at the villain's disposal, and who could quite conveniently be whipped out for a mid-battle surprise round - you might find you have some explaining to do if you choose to wield your authorly powers to have the villain go after... idk, some other sheila instead.

(The fact that this ends up taking the hero out of the fight, and the person he sacrifices himself for subsequently throws herself into the arena risking life and limb to defeat the villain and rescue her saviour, also means the most satisfying way this plays out, narratively speaking, is if both of these characters happen to be the most important person in each other's lives - at least, as of that moment, anyway - but I think this post has gone on long enough, lol)

This is, by and large, a rebuttal post more than anything else, but the tl;dr here is - regardless of whether you want to read the scene as shippy or not, to downplay Zuko's sacrifice for Katara specifically as "not that deep™" because "Zuko would have taken the lightning for anyone anyway", suggests either that a) nobody should be reading into the implications of Katara being chosen as the person nearest and dearest to Zuko, so that putting her life in jeopardy can deliver the most powerful impact possible for an audience you'd bloody well hope are on the edge of their seats during the climax of your story or b) the writers made the inexplicable decision of having the villain threaten the life of... literally who the fuck ever, and ultimately landed on someone who's actually not all that important to the hero in the grand scheme of things - which is a cardinal writing sin if I ever saw one (even disregarding the Choice to then season it with mood lighting and sad violin music, on top of it all), and altogether something I'd be legitimately pissed about if my Zuko-OTP ship paired him with Mai, Sokka, or just about anybody else 😂

Most importantly c) I'm hungry, and I want snacks.

*The Aussies in the fandom will get this one. Everyone else can suffer in united confusion.

[kkuzushi]

Haii! Ive read your sub Heizou fic and omg... I kept thinking about scaramouche while reading it. I've also taken a liking to your page! Your writing is soo goodnendksjdnxw sub scaramouche fic when? 🥰🥰🎀🎀

(I feel like in going to interact with your page alot so can I be 🎸 anon? >_<)

“ 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗮 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 ”

✦ 𝗰haracters: sub!scaramouche x dom!reader

✦ 𝗰w: mirror sex (at the end), implied orgasm denial, implied overstimulation, slight choking, cock can be interpreted as strap

✦ 𝘄ord count: 1.02k

✦ 𝗻otes: You’re always welcome to my page, lovely 🎸. This is written especially for you. <3

It became a routine for Scaramouche to send pictures of himself when wearing different outfits. It was just a time to time update, like you had asked, but he had gotten unexpectedly used to it.

For a man who has impeccable fashion taste, you would always shower him with compliments with every picture he sent—because of that, he saw it as a way to get your attention.

As usual, you received a notification from Scaramouche and it was a mirror shot. The picture was enough to make you smile but what took your attention was the message he sent after it.

"It's been a week, when are you coming over?"

Scaramouche had gotten clingy as well after establishing a relationship.. or maybe there's something he's after.

"My schedule's packed for this week, maybe by the end of the month we get to spend time again."

You replied, which he immediately read. It took a while for him to respond as it turns out, he was preparing another picture for you. Only this time, his shirt was lifted up, his teeth biting on the fabric to expose his stomach.

"How about right now?" He sent with the picture.

You could almost read where he's going along with this but you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

After a few back and forth bickering, his pictures and messages had only gotten more and more explicit.

"My bed's missing you."

"Wanna show me what 34+35 is equal to?"

"Something wants to be filled and it's not my expectations."

If only he knew how much you actually wanted to rail him right now. If your schedule wasn't so packed, you'd be having your way with him.

Though who said you can't? It didn't take long for you to arrive at his place, a sight you could never get tired of unfolding right before you.

Scaramouche's nails clawed your back, almost holding for dear life as you mindlessly pounded him to oblivion.

"Wait..! Too full~!!" His grip around you tightened as he squealed with every thrust you give him.

"For someone so teasing, you sure can't take a lot," You commented, grabbing his thighs to push back, spreading it out even more.

Scaramouche's eyes narrowed down at you, biting his lips gently before speaking, "I didn't expect that simple words would provoke you."

His statement made you chuckle before closing the distance between the two of you. His legs spread apart as you pushed your cock all the way inside, resting close to his prostate, making him squirm from the sensation.

"It didn't provoke me, Scara," you cooed to his ear, "It only motivated me."

Before he could respond, you bucked your hips, finally hitting his prostate. Scaramouche's eyes widened as he lets out what could only be described as a scream.

"ngAHh~!! ♡ ♡" His back arched from the sudden thrust to his prostate, a hoarse moan was forced out of him, eyes rolling back from the pleasure.

Your back has been marked to the core by his nails, it was painful yet you enjoyed the feeling—after all, it was the result of having your way with him.

Scaramouche's thighs starts to tremble, his head rolling back as moans after moans stream out of his throat.

Just the way his body reacts to his prostate getting abused turned you on, how could you ever get tired of fucking this man?

"Do I fuck you good, Scaramouche?" You grunted, hands on his waist to keep yourself moving on the same pace. The only answer given to you were mewls, poor Scaramouche can't even think properly as he seems to be seeing stars now.

"aH~ aH!~ goofmgnh~ sho goodddh~!! ♡" A few minutes after your question, Scaramouche starts to ramble, his tongue lolling out of his mouth with every word he says.

His cock was leaking precum, spilling all the way to his thighs. If he wasn't so focused on having your permission, he would've finished since then—but only good boys get that, right?

The sound of skin hitting skin was loud as you fucked Scaramouche harshly yet his moans were still louder than anything else. His pretty body was filled with fresh bitemarks and hickeys, even on places that's exposed easily. Not to worry, he won't be complaining anytime soon.

"fuck..! fuck! mnghah..!" He squealed as he watched your cock disappearing with every thrust you give, almost like his hole was sucking it in. His inner walls tightened, receiving a moan from you, "hagh- g-gonna cum!~ ♡"

His words served as a signal as you swiftly changed his position, turning him around to make him face his bedroom mirror. Scaramouche's eyes widened after realising your intentions.

"N-not like thisfhAHH~♡♡!!" Words were cut once his felt your cock fucking him in a rougher pace. You pinned his hands on his back, your free hand crawling up and wrapping around his neck so tenderly.

"Look at yourself as you cum," You whispered to his ear, your eyes staring at his in the mirror. The way you talked to him didn't help, everything was deliberately turning him on, his back arching further as he felt his body grow weak.

He was close, so close to finishing. Scaramouche knew that if he disobeyed this one last command from you, it's back to square one. His eyes never left the mirror, scanning the way his body gets pounded by you. The sight alone was making him scream in pleasure.

"mngha- cummi— i'm cummingghhaHH~!! ♡♡♡" Scaramouche's eyes rolled back, a long moan flowing out his mouth as his cock squirted cum all over the place, even reaching the mirror.

Once the white fluid stops spilling out of him, his volume decreased. What could only be heard now are heavy pants from him, his chest heaving with every breath he took.

"We're not yet done," his eyes widened once more as he hears you speak down to his nape, "You still have to make me cum, remember?"

Exhaustion has never felt this pleasing, Scaramouche knew he was in for a long night, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

[lacroixqueen]

i can fix him no really i can (18+, dubcon) ex bf deadpool x down bad reader

Summary: your ex boyfriend deadpool shows up at your apartment after many years and he's badly hurt so you need to help him but he also wants to fuck you because he's toxic :/

Pairing: ex bf deadpool x fem!reader with unresolved feelings

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings/Tags: dubcon, making out, flirting, wounded, angsty

It was Friday night, so naturally, it was pouring rain outside. You were already snuggled up in bed with a bowl of popcorn and your favorite movie locked and loaded ready to play. Until you realized exactly what this perfect evening was missing: ice cream. You quickly got up out of bed and moseyed your way into the kitchen.

 

Before you could swipe your favorite gelato from the top shelf, you heard a loud crash emanating from your living room window. You froze in your steps for a moment, and then grabbed the largest kitchen knife you could find in your vicinity. 

Inching your way towards the noise, you were about to swing your weapon at the intruder before a nearby lamp flickered on and you laid eyes on a face you could recognize from a mile away. 

“Holy fuck, put that shit down!” the assassin in all red and black exclaimed, taking the knife out of your hand with ease. 

“Wade?!” you said, placing your hands on your hips. “What the hell are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in what, five years?”

“Great to see you again too, sweetheart,” he replied, noticeably clutching the lower part of his abdomen. “I just thought I’d swing by and say hi.”

“Wade, you are bleeding,” you pointed out, rushing to his side. “What the heck even happened to you?”

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he muttered through gritted teeth, sliding his arm over your shoulder, which immediately caused your back to tense up. “But if you want the short version of the story, let’s just say I pissed off someone who had a giant sword for an arm. Like, he drove that shit through my fucking brain! It’s okay though, I’ll get him back for that one of these days, he’ll see.”

“Oh my god,” you sighed as you guided him to sit down on your couch. “Just.. don’t go anywhere. I’m gonna grab some stuff real quick.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it!” he chuckled playfully. “Also, did you do something new with your hair? I love it. It’s like your old color but just subtly different. Hey, did you like tone it? Was it that salon next door? Because their cut and color deal is to die for.”

“Stop doing that,” you shot back, ambling over to your first aid cabinet. 

“Stop doing what?” he said with a feigned innocence. 

“You know what,” you responded bluntly, pulling out a set of tweezers, gauze, and saline. 

“What, flirt with you?” Deadpool asked, sitting up a little bit more enthusiastically now. “Honey, we’ve been broken up for a long time, do you seriously think I would pick this moment to hit on you? Because you would be sorely mistaken. I am happy to report that I am 100% completely over our relationship and have moved on to bigger better things in life like car sales and snorting cocaine with Blind Al. Oh, she said she misses you by the way.”

“Your timing has never been impeccable,” you commented, kneeling before him with your wound care supplies. Before he could protest, you parted his legs open and rested your forearms on his thighs. This was making him blush harder than he would ever care to admit to you. “Now can you lift your suit up for me, please.”

“We’ve barely caught up for five minutes, and you want me to strip for you already?” Wade chirped, placing a melodramatic hand on his chest. “I mean, I’m all for it but aren’t we moving a little bit fast here?”

“You’re doing it again..” you sighed while shaking your head. “Can you just please not make this more awkward than it already is?”

He grumbled a bit before finally lifting up his suit, revealing a sizable gash slightly to the side of his V-line. There were multiple shards of glass embedded into the wound, glistening menacingly in the dim lighting of your living room. 

“Holy shit, Wade,” you breathed while laying out your instruments. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“Look, maybe I pissed off an intergalactic space fascist or two,” he mumbled while shrugging his shoulders. “But who’s counting? Besides, the next time I get my hands on that freak I’m going to gut him from the inside out and make him eat it. Ooh, that would be satisfying, it’s making me so hard right now.”

“Always the pacifist,” you murmured sarcastically, taking your tweezers and dislodging one of the largest glass shards from his wound. “Have you ever considered, oh I don’t know, volunteering at the soup kitchen? Being a contributing member of your community? It doesn’t always have to be about bashing people’s faces in.”

“Jesus fucking shit on a stick motherfucker! Fuck!” he yelled as you removed the glass piece. “What kind of archaic method was that? At least numb me up first? Or I don’t know, buy me dinner?”

“Oh don’t be such a little bitch. If you wanted anesthetic, you could have just gone to the urgent care across the street,” you said matter-of-factly. “Besides, this isn’t exactly a professional clinic.”

Wade’s breathing became heavier when he noticed your soft tits pressing up against his leg as you focused harder on prying out a stubborn shard of glass. And how your lips curled into an adorable little pout when you were extra concentrated on something. 

“You know, this would be the perfect opportunity to give me head right now,” he said with a smirk under his mask. “Like, you could not be in a better position.”

You tried to ignore his lewd statement, focusing on removing the smaller shards of glass in his wound. You gasped when you felt his leathered hands reach into your hair, gathering the locks between his fingers to form a ponytail. 

“Wade!” you groaned, immediately setting down your tweezers. “I said stop, so quit it.” You shook his hands out of your hair, re-directing your attention back to his injury. 

“Oh, but you always looked so hot doing it!” he reminisced, clasping his hands together like some dazed fangirl. “And you were amazing! Like, took the entire length, it’s like you didn’t even have a gag reflex! I’ve never seen anything like it. Oh, and you always swallowed without me even having to tell you. Do you know how rare of a find that is? Because I haven’t gotten head that good since the day we broke-”

“One more word out of your mouth and I’m literally not going to help you anymore,” you interrupted, staring him dead in the eye, which was quite effective at shutting him up. 

You finally removed the last piece of glass, working a bit more efficiently now that he is not constantly interjecting with his fantasies about you. 

“Aaand, all done!” you said, tucking the debris into a wad of gauze. You cleaned the wound with some saline and covered it with a large bandage. “Yay, that actually wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Well of course, I’m literally a self-healing mutant,” Wade replied, pulling his suit back down to cover his wound. “Someone has literally shot me in the head before, but here I am, still kicking!”

“But it’s not like you can just heal foreign bodies out of yourself,” you countered as you cleaned your bloodstained tweezers with some bleach and a cloth. “You would have been in pain for days if it weren’t for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get too ahead of yourself,” he sneered. “But thank you sweetheart, that actually did get me out of a pinch. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a big ugly bad guy to send back to his dimension, and time is money, so I really should get out there before he blows up another building downtown or God forbid beheads a baby or something.”

“Nope, you are going to stay right here,” you established as you closed the lid of your first aid kit. “Because I’m not gonna have you come back here multiple times again throughout the night and me not sleeping at all.” 

“Wow, so now you’re just being a selfish bitch!” Wade said, crossing his arms over your chest. “Did you hear that, innocent bystanders? She could give less of a fuck if the world was set ablaze the next morning because I wasn’t there to stop it!”

“Oh, the world will be just fine,” you stated. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go to bed and you are going to sleep on the couch-”

As you got up, your stance wobbled a bit and you found yourself collapsing face forward onto Wade’s lap, your lips just barely brushing against his mask. You grasped onto his shoulders out of instinct, steadying yourself. 

“Ohhh I see what you’re doing here!” the assassin called out. “You want me to stay so badly because you are just a horny little slut who can’t get enough of me! Well that’s no problem at all, because I am actually completely open and willing to do this, just know that my hard lines are scat, vomit, and furry. I don’t know why I can’t get into those animal costume things by the way, just something about the eyes..”

“I don’t want to sleep with you tonight, Wade Wilson,” you said, enunciating every single word. “I just.. lost balance.”

“Uh huh, ‘lost balance’,” he repeated, making air quotes with his fingers, his gaze not wavering. “Well if that’s the case, why don’t you kiss me and not do anything else? Since you’re so certain.”

“I’m not kissing you either,” you snapped, gasping a bit as you felt his hands slide over the curve of your waist, tugging gently at the fabric of your cami. 

“You’re just saying that because you know if you did you wouldn’t be able to resist doing more,” he accused, voice darkening all of a sudden. He lifted up his mask to reveal just his lips. “So kiss me, Y/N. Since you’re sooo not attracted to me like that anymore.”

You sighed a bit as you felt the tips of his lips brush against yours, his hot breath entering your mouth, almost inviting you to lean in closer. You also realized you were never one to back down from a challenge. You went ahead and wrapped your arms around his neck, rolling your hips into his. You tilted your head slightly to the side, allowing a couple strands of hair to fall down your face. 

So you kissed him, your soft pouty lips blending seamlessly with his bruised, callused mouth. He was hungry, voracious for you even, wanting you so desperately as he pushed his tongue into you. And you allowed him to. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer towards his body as you kissed him back. Your tongue twirled against his, a little whine escaping from your lips as he broke the kiss momentarily to catch his breath. 

He grasped one of your bloodstained fingers, and sucked his own blood off of them, licking his lips mischievously after.

“W-wait, Wade, stop..” you gasped, leaning back a bit once you felt his hand sneak over your taut stomach and grasp your neck firmly. “I-I can’t do this.”

“Aw, but we were getting so into it babydoll,” Wade whined, his grip tightening a bit around your neck before finally releasing you. “What happened? Are you getting cold feet because you remembered I’m so good at it?”

“No, it’s just I can’t catch feelings for you again,” you admitted, unclasping your hands from over his shoulders. “I don’t like it when I get like this with you.”

You stood up from the couch and turned your back to him, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Ugggghhhh you always get so dramatic like this,” he said, standing up to follow right behind you. “I promise you it’s not that serious. Think of it like this: just two people fooling around and then calling it a night. We don’t have to get into all that messy bullshit from the past if you don’t want to. We could just.. What’s the word my therapist says all the time.. Oh! Compartmentalize. Yeahhh that’s it. You know, you get really good at shit like that when you watch multiple people you care about die in front of you, it’s pretty great.”

“But it’s not that simple Wade, I can’t just..” you sighed as he wrapped his arms over your torso, pressing his chest tightly against your back. He slightly lifted up the bottom of your cami, playing with the top of your panties that peaked out of your shorts. “Please.. don’t do this to me.”

“What, this?” he asked before sliding his tongue over your exposed neck, still playing with the top of your lacy panties and twisting the little bows around his fingertips. “Love these by the way, are they new?”

“St-stop..” you stammered, breath quickening as he rolled up your tank top to eventually reveal your delicate bralette, which accentuated your cleavage perfectly. You felt his hot breath splash against your shoulder as he panted at the sight of your body gradually revealing itself to him. 

“Wow, you look even better than I remember!” he commented, playing with the little ribbon in the center of your bra. He used the palm of his gloved hand to rub aching, undulating circles over your toned stomach. “Have you been working out? And by the way, love the statement piece, it goes really well with what you have under too! Ugh, I love when you wear a matching set for me, which reminds me, remember that gorgeous lingerie you had on that one Valentine’s day? I still can’t get it out of my head! Oooh, do you still have it? Because if so I would love to uh, borrow it for a few days if you don’t mind?”

You broke away from him, stepping towards your bedroom door, back still faced to him. “I have to go to sleep now,” you said, trying to conceal how flushed your cheeks were getting in the dim lighting. “You can use the sofa but please be gone by morning.”

You twisted the handle to enter your bedroom and slammed the door behind you. You pressed your back against the cold wood, trying to regulate your breathing by counting numbers and steadying yourself by grasping your dresser while the room spun. 

“Welp, at least I tried,” you overheard Wade mutter nonchalantly. He stepped over to your living room window, unclasped the locks, and disappeared out into the night. Like it was just another pit stop in the evening for him. 

Eventually, you found yourself back in bed, staring at the ceiling as your heart continued to pound against your chest. You tossed and turned the entire time, wide awake, until eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore and had to find some relief. 

So you regrettably, masturbated to the thought of him, legs shaking underneath your sheets while you clasped your hand over your mouth. This was something you did way more often than you care to admit. And only then was sleep able to reward you. 

[batbirdies]

What are your top fanfic recs for 2024?

aha!! I am late answering this as usual but I went through all of my bookmarks made in 2024 to pick out my favs and I saved the links in an email draft and then when I went to make this post it was poofed gone so then I abandoned the idea but am back, recollecting links here and half rereading them as I go lol.

So these are some of my particular fav fics read and bookmarked in 2024, not necessarily that were published in 2024. (Though I think most of them were)

Also I don’t know if most of these authors have Tumblrs or what their handles are if they do, so if you recognize one and know it please tag them! Or let me know and I’ll edit in the tag.

So:

Ground Control to Jason Todd by TheThoughtsThief [22,520 words]

Jason died at fifteen years old. He recalled a light, searing and white against the expance of a black sky and the nothingness of space. He recalled a star, speaking to him with a morose calm. Then, finally, he remembered the universe giving him a second chance at life. A few years down the line, he goes chasing after myths to figure out why.

Or, a Dick and Jason space road trip au featuring Japanese death poems, Shakespearean tragedies, and Abba's greatest hits.

My first bookmark of 2024! This fic is super unique. I’m not usually big on AUs but road trips are my jam so I gave this one a shot and the ~vibes~ are impeccable. It’s soft and flowy and the recurring poetry and the relationship between Dick and Jason and the willowy liminal space experiences… so good.

Hope is the Thing with Feathers by TheSilencer [13,106 words]

"Oh." Nightwing said. "It's your first time."

"My what?" Jason said.

"It's like 'The Time Traveler's Wife.' Except I'm not your wife. Not that I'd be a bad wife, but not for you. That'd be gross - Wait, is that movie even out, yet?" Nightwing rambled, and Jason stood up on wobbly legs. "Shoot. I guess it doesn't matter. Not relevant -"

Or Jason Todd is a time traveler, and Dick Grayson is always his destination. 

A story about brothers doing their best.

Basically what it says in the description. Jason randomly moves through time throughout his life, always landing where Dick Grayson is. sometimes Jason needs Dick, and sometimes Dick needs Jason, and neither of them ever really has the full picture of what’s going on. But they do their best for each other<3 they’re brothers your honor 😭😭

Still hurts underneath my scars by valkyriered [2,928 words]

“Stop.” The man in the purple suit says, and Jason freezes.

“Stay there.” He says. “Don’t move.”

Jason tries to lurch forward, has some half-prepared snark about being told what to do, and he finds that he can’t. He can’t even move his arms. His eyes dart around the empty warehouse. Fuck. “Who are you?” Jason demands. “What is this?”

The man doesn’t even look over at him. “Stop talking.” 

I’ll warn, this fic says “no archive warnings apply” but there is heavy implication of previous sexual assault. No direct references but it’s definitely there.

The use of Killgrave in this is stellar, I still find him one of the most terrifying villains I’ve ever watched or read about in anything I’ve seen. The moment is small and doesn’t even seem that bad on the surface but the writing puts you in Jason’s head and you can feel how frightening it would be, and how scared Jason really, really is. Has made me think about using Killgrave in a fic sometimes cause it truly has some juicy potential.

There is comfort, and Selina is great in this, but it is from Jason’s POV and he is still pretty Not OkayTM when it ends, so just, you know, be careful with yourselves. It’s very well written and Jason is well taken care of by his loved ones in the end but it’s a hurty one.

Displacement by @imbecamiel [21,244 words]

“He’s dead,” Tim said, blankly.

“Look at me.” Jason ducked his head to catch Tim’s eyes. “Hey, look at me. You didn’t kill him. You just shot him. No big deal, right? You’ve injured lots of people. Just part of the job. Doesn’t matter it was with a gun this time. Doesn’t change anything. I’m the one who killed him. You’re fine.”

Loooove this fic. Tim accidentally fatally shoots someone in self defense. Jason is there, sees Tim panicking, and finishes the job himself so he can take the blame.

The relationships in this fic are so good, and the CHARACTERS are just SO GOOD. I started to say a lot more but then I just started summarizing the whole thing and spoiling it. Just know that Jason and Tim’s interactions in this are great, and Bruce and Jason have SUCH a good and satisfying end to their arch in this, which is so important to me and can be hard to find.

A Sad Song With Nothing To Say by WakingNightmares [14,805 words]

It starts with the Make A Wish foundation, and ends with a funeral.

Which, Bruce supposes, is unfortunately how things involving the Make A Wish foundation usually work. But what happens in-between catches him completely off-guard.

Ok, know first that this fic isn’t really my usual fair because it’s heavy on the hurt and light on the comfort. Be prepared if you decide to read this one.

A young gotham boy dying of cancer uses his Make A Wish Foundation wish to meet The Red Hood, more as a joke than anything, not expecting it to actually happen. The boy has no one else, he’s dying alone and in pain, and Jason can’t do anything about the pain but he can keep him from being alone. So he stays with the kid, whenever he can, and soon the other bats start helping, so he’s not by himself. But Jason grows attached, and Bruce knows, they all know that it is not going to end well. That the devastation this is going to wreak on Jason will be no small thing. But no one really has the heart to do anything but help.

Like I said this fic is damn well agonizing but it hit me in such a cathartic way. Because it’s devastating. The story is so painful, but everyone is helping. Everyone is there. There is so much love in this fic and as much comfort as can be offered even if it is not nearly enough. And when it ends—Bruce is there.

Open Line by @lurkinglurkerwholurks [2,140 words]

Dick pinched the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled the crate down from the top shelf. The line rang twice before connecting.

“Hey, you busy?” Dick stepped down from the stool and carried the crate to the table, popping the top and flipping it off to the side to reach inside.

“Everything okay?” Bruce asked. His voice sounded close, like he was in a small space.

Dick is dealing with some unexpected grief and Bruce is a good dad. That’s all you need sometimes, you know?

Eat Your Heart Out by Lishalalalala [35,527 words]

What people don’t expect of Bruce Wayne is his ability to love in such a detailed way. What people absolutely expect of Jason Todd is his ability to show up at the worst place, at the worst time, every damn time. But not all late-night calls from the hospital are bad, not all galas are bad, and not all of Bruce's culinary attempts are bad. Featuring food; Jason's self-esteem issues, his complicated relationship with food; and the different ways confidence can be filled. Also featuring one Bruce Wayne trying his best.

(Endeavoring to grow up shouldn’t have been this hard considering it’s the second round for him. )

A story of Bruce and Jason revolving around each other, pinging off in different directions when things don’t go well. Of love shown through food. Of Jason’s skittish and slow acceptance of that love.

Each chapter is its own scene, little time skips between, building on each other to craft a very soft picture. This fic makes me ache in such a way. It’s poetic, it manages to make sweet, nostalgic moments stab you in the heart. Very recently completed, and I still need to leave a comment on the final chapter, whoops.

Also gives a well thought out and reasonable explanation for Bruce’s poor cooking skills lol.

Thats all from 2024, but im gonna cheat and also add one from this month cause I read it yesterday and have been gushing about it since and there’s so little Steph and Bruce fic out in the world, it needs more love.

If they could only remember/which one is you and which one/the source of all fire by @luvo27 [9,086 words]

When she’s not with him on patrol, he knows she’s often patrolling on her own. When she’s not patrolling on her own, he knows she’s wandering around Gotham. She doesn’t spend a lot of time at home, not even after her father died. She seems, Bruce thinks, like she’s lonely. He clears his throat. Stephanie looks up from her phone. Bruce can read the screen upside down, she’s still looking up solar eclipses. An idea starts to form in his mind. He starts to ask, “Do you…would you—the path of totality crosses over Vermont. Or the state of New York.” “Yeah,” Stephanie turns her phone to face him. “I was looking at the maps.” “That’s a little over seven hours away by car,” Bruce says.

Or: Stephanie and Bruce take a road trip to see the solar eclipse, featuring: Stephanie Brown and her Stephanie Brown-ness, Bruce Wayne and his Bruce-ness, and grief.

Bruce’s POV throughout. Stephanie is Robin, Jason is dead, and Bruce can see so much of Jason in Stephanie that he can barely look at her. But even in his grief he can’t stop caring, can’t stop wanting to help her. Can’t stop being terrified that she will meet the same end that Jason did.

Bruce is messy and he’s not doing amazing but he’s trying very hard. Stephanie is also messy and not doing amazing, but she is trying very hard. Has a soft ending but deals pretty heavily with grief, so be aware.

Hope you enjoy these!!

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

Semi-Final Two

Propaganda...

Mr Knightley (2009):

Johnny Lee Miller as Knightley is JUST SO. I mean the way he says "if I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more" IS JUUUST. The dance scene. The tentative shy smiles. The fact you can see in his eyes the entire time " I am completely in love with this woman. She'll never love me back BUT I DO NOT CARE I'LL LOVE HER FROM A DISTANCE ANYWAY" IS JUUUUUUST

We need to appreciate Mr Knightley more for both his snark and for those soft eyes just so full of love for Emma

GIF by dearemma

I was just going to send in the actual dance but the little panic he has when Emma says she knows his secret is just soo charming. There was some thread on twitter a few years ago about how a romcom man's most important quality is knowing how to look at a woman and JLM is just the master of it in this Emma

I really feel like the pictures say it all. He stands there, head tilted to one side. He is listening to you. His posture is relaxed. His gaze open, frank, candid. He's not trying at all. He just is.And that's why he is Knightley.

GIF by night-unfurls-its-splendour

Some propaganda, not just for Jonny Lee Miller, but the general interpretation of 09 Knightley. I have some excerpts here from my review of the 09 adaptation:

What I really think is great about the 2009 interpretation of Mr. Knightley is what an easy and comforting presence he is, without being apologetic when he scolds Emma. I think this is communicated especially well by how often we are actually shown Mr. Knightley taking his almost-daily walks to Hartfield, how smoothly he comes and goes, and how happy Emma is every time she sees him coming up the path (usually, just at the perfect moment when she needs something to put her back to rights.)

Here is Emma, feeling lonely after Miss Taylor's wedding. And in the background, walking up to Hartfield--there's Knightley. He's always been there for her, and he always will be.

And also this Mr. Knightley is as understated as ever, but I wanna highlight this outfit and why I love it: This is Knightley’s first appearance in the series and it’s the perfect establishing shot that shows the viewer everything they need to know about Emma and Knightley’s relationship and how it has always been. He sort of materializes, out of focus in the background, but Emma immediately knows he’s there. And to accentuate how much Knightley is part of her home and scenery, his clothes (similar shades of pale tan, white and minty green to the wall behind him) almost camouflage him and make him seem at one with the moulding of her home.

Additionally, Jonny Lee Miller captures Knightley’s playful qualities, and his exasperation is so endearing

GIF by christophernolan

GIF by sashajames

GIF by christophernolan

I can’t be the only one tickled by this Knightley’s frustration with Emma! JLM FTW!

Jonny Lee Miller is mesmerizing in any role he inhabits. It’s 2009 Knightly all the way.

no but can you actually go vote for mr knightley he was FOUNDATIONAL for 16 year old me my favourite portrayal of my favourite austen man cannot fall at this hurdle!!!

He is my ultimate Austen Dream Man, I'm with him until the end. Honestly this adaptation is my very favorite of them all (P&P 1995 is a VERY close second) because it made me fall in love with Emma as a story? Honestly no other adaptation or indeed even my reading of the book made me love it quite as much. My crush on JLM goes back to 1995 and I do think he is one of the better actors of his generation - his range alone is just impeccable. The fact that he can go from Sick Boy to Mr. Knightley to Sherlock to Jordan Chase is really something. Of all the actors I know, his range is the most impressive. But i love how bright and sunny this adaptation is. The colors, it is as vibrant as Emma should be! The Kate Beckinsale Emma is dark and terrifying to me, not at all suitable an adaptation. I like the Paltrow Emma a lot, but it's got the same issue the 2005 P&P has for me -- it's just too short. This is tonally just right, and the casting is lovely, and JLM is just at his dashing best. His face is so expressive, he is so capable of communicating so much without saying a word. His open jealousy of Frank Churchill is delightful to watch. His face when Emma tells him his secret is out at the ball! JLM is maybe the most underrated actor of his generation and I LOVE that he has been multiple Austen heroes. I maintain that in a future adaptation of Pride & Prejudice, an older JLM would make an EXCELLENT Mr. Bennet. He would convey the right amount of grumpy but fond beautifully.

Look. Do people realize JLM hates wearing period clothing AND hates dancing? And yet in Emma he's sashaying around in pink jackets looking amazing and is THAT convincing? That's called BRILLIANT ACTING!!

A tiny bit of Mr Knightley 2009 propaganda but I love that they put in that bit from the book where he looks like he's going to kiss Emma's hand when he's saying goodbye but then he hesitates and doesn't and I just...it's such a tiny detail but conveys so much!

GIF by myforeverworldofmovie

It’s the only Emma adaptation that really hits the romance notes well. Knightley’s crowning moment of awesome really feels like it (when he rescues Harriet from humiliation) and his subsequent dancing with Emma does make you feel a shift in their relations. Love this adaptation. - This Knightley and Emma in particular are equals. They quarrel, not because he’s telling her off, but because they can have an argument because they know each other, trust each other and care about each others opinions, and there is never a sense of domination of one over the other. This adds so much fire to the romance, and it’s so unusual for a romance of that era (or even one written today!!). - Emma is rich, clever and beautiful and as powerful as a woman of her age and situation could be at the time and she married Knightley for no other reason but because he’s her best friend and his company for the rest of her life will enrich her. - He even leaves his house to move in with her!

Captain Wentworth (1995):

Ciaran Hinds has that perfect ruggedness yet friendliness to his face that makes him the perfect charming Wentworth. And all of the longing that he manages to convey in his eyes is so hot.

Wentworth may be angry/resentful with Anne but in general he is charming and the best friend you could ever have. Ciaran gets the pleasant parts of his character and brings them out, while keeping a guarded coolness (protective camouflage) with Anne.

GIF by molinaesque

I dunno if this counts as propaganda or not, but Ciaran Hinds has a face that looks like it was jackhammered out of a shale cliff.

If a line like 'I am half agony...half hope' comes out of a face like that you know that man has a soul for poetry.

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in

F. W.

I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never.  

This is propaganda for the next round because I need my boy to be a finalist! But this letter is all the persuasion I need to know that he is a winner

Ciarán Hinds in this is a whole other level of "a good man" He makes Anne's decision at the end so much more perfect.

[2amriize]

✩࿐࿔ eyes on you - eunseok one shot

genre: academic rivals, enemies to friends pairing: eunseok x reader

Eunseok is known for being one of the smartest and most perfect students at the country’s top university. He had never found anyone who could challenge his position until you arrived at the university as the new student. With an impeccable academic record, you quickly became his only rival.

From the very first day Eunseok met you, he saw you as a threat, and although he was friendly with everyone else, he hardly ever spoke to you. He basically acted like you didn’t exist. You always thought it was because he didn’t want to accept that there was someone who could compete with him.

At first, it could be said that it was only a rivalry over academic grades, but this rivalry grew over time, adding in popularity, achievements, awards in competitions, and so on. Tensions were rising as the school year progressed, and everyone in your class could feel it.

It was exam season. You usually studied in your room, but your roommate had invited some friends over for a few days, making it impossible for you to concentrate there. After trying several cafés to study, you decided that the best option might be to go to the university library. You had been avoiding it all this time because you knew exactly who always studied there: Eunseok.

You looked around for a place to sit, but since it was exam season, the place was completely full. You walked through the aisles to see if there was any empty seat towards the back, and finally, you found a spot where no one was sitting. You walked as fast as you could so no one would take the seat, and when you got there, you sat down quickly.

You sighed in relief, but when you looked up, you were completely stunned. Eunseok was sitting right in front of you, looking at his computer while trying to solve some exercises in his notebook. Eunseok raised his head, making eye contact with you.

“Well, well, what’s y/n doing here? I thought you could only study in your room,” Eunseok whispered, letting out a soft laugh.

“I came to keep a close eye on you,” you joked as you pulled out your laptop and notebooks.

“Don’t worry about me, y/n. You should focus on yourself. After all, it’s very easy for me to beat you.” Eunseok watched you with a smirk, the kind that always made your blood boil. You simply ignored his words, immediately getting to work on studying for the calculus exam you had coming up.

Although you thought it would be hard to concentrate in the library (especially with Eunseok in front of you), the hours passed by quickly. When you looked out the window, you realized it was already dark. You checked the time on your laptop: 11:38 p.m. You had been there all afternoon, and you were so focused on solving the exercises that you hadn’t even realized you had missed dinner.

You stretched a little as you lifted your head from your laptop, noticing that almost everyone had already left the library, but Eunseok was still sitting in front of you. He was focused on writing things on a piece of paper while doing some calculations on his calculator. You noticed that his hair was a bit messy, and he was wearing glasses. You had never seen him like this before. In class, he was always well-dressed and polished, and as far as you could remember, he never wore glasses to class. He really presented himself as perfect in everyone’s eyes.

Eunseok stretched as well, letting out a small yawn while looking at you. You were also starting to feel a bit tired, not to mention starving, but seeing how Eunseok started writing a new exercise in his notebook, you knew you couldn’t just get up and leave. It was a silent battle of sorts, where the last one studying the longest would win. This was also one of the reasons you had been avoiding the library to study, because you knew there would be a competition over who could study the longest. Still, you finished stretching and went back to looking at your laptop, starting to work on more exercises.

When you checked the time on your laptop again, it was 2 a.m. Your eyes were starting to close more and more, your vision getting a bit blurry as you looked at your notes. Plus, you couldn’t help but hear your stomach growling. What if I close my eyes for a few seconds? you thought as you rested your head on one of your arms.

You didn’t expect that when you opened your eyes again, Eunseok would be standing next to you, touching your shoulder to wake you up. You quickly sat up, confused as you looked at him.

“What… what’s going on?”

“You fell asleep, y/n. That’s enough,” Eunseok murmured as he started packing up your things, leaving you looking at him confused as you started to pack them too. Why was he suddenly being nice to you?

“No, I didn’t fall asleep, I was just resting,” you heard Eunseok laugh.

“Yeah, sure…”

When you finished packing up your things, you stood up from your chair, realizing you were wearing a sweatshirt on your shoulders that wasn’t yours.

“I put it on you so you wouldn’t get cold. I know better than anyone how hard it is to study when you’re sick,” Eunseok said as he started walking towards the library exit, and you followed him.

“Thanks…” You couldn’t deny that you were taken by surprise by Eunseok’s attitude towards you, but on the other hand, his words felt very familiar. It was true that Eunseok could understand you when it came to studying, since both of you had probably had the same experiences in high school, studying all hours to be the best in the class, even when sick.

You walked to the exit of the library in silence, stopping at the door. You looked at each other in silence for a few seconds until Eunseok broke the silence.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, but it wasn’t so bad having you as a table partner. But, well, good night…” he said before turning around and starting to walk towards his dorm.

Did you hear that right? You couldn’t help but smile when you heard his words.

“See you tomorrow, Eunseok,” you raised your voice a little so he could hear you before heading to your room as well.

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist

taglist: @cherryishxo @gacktsa

[lakes-writting-rambles]

Out Of Choice, But Not Out Of Reach - #1 Inevitabilities And Such Unfortunate Things

words:2889

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes your destiny is completely out of your hands – Danny Fenton couldn’t seem to find a way to avoid learning that lesson. First; when he was shot when Slade invaded the headquarters of the League, and subsequently his family, was using, while the fight between Slade and Grandfather was going on, he used the chaos to get to the Lazarus Pit before he bled out; a second time when he died in that godforsaken portal; the most prevalent one was definitely his first meeting with Clockwork, there he noticed that it doesn’t matter how hard you try, if it isn’t meant to be, someone will interfere. It doesn’t mean he won’t still do things as before, but now there’s forever the dread of knowing.

It’s been about a year since what he, Jazz, Sam and Tucker dubbed “The Dan Incident”, and Danny can't seem to stop thinking about it. Well, not really about Dan, no, but about Damian. He can’t stop thinking about how Dan likely ended up killing Damian – it’d be inevitable, and, considering the state the future he had been shown was in, he hoped Damian went early on, really, he also hoped it was quick, like he tried to do when he was in the League.

What really bothered Danny, though, was that he couldn’t help but wonder if staying with the Fentons even was a good idea at this point. Surely he has learned that misfortune would follow him anywhere he went, so why wait for the shoe to drop? Before the accident, he was relatively safe to live the rest of his life in Amity, sure, it was kind of a deadend, but it was tranquil, so he couldn’t really complain. Now, though? He was in constant danger inside and outside his house, being half dead meant no place with the living and no place with the dead. He should leave while he still can.

The League isn’t likely to spot him, considering it’s been years since his “death” and he probably looks different enough from Damian now… which is something he’ll have to think about later. And the threats of dissection (vivisection?) by his parents keep increasing – he doesn’t want to fuck around and find out.

So, the League is probably not an issue anymore, staying seems to get more dangerous each day and he’s pretty sure most ghosts only come to Amity to fight him.

Nevertheless, running away also came with a plethora of problems, for one: leaving Jazz and his friends. When he got adopted into the Fenton household he tried not to get attached to anyone. He couldn’t keep that up for long, as a touch starved 9 year old that came from a violent background and got thrown into a very loving family. First, he got attached to his parents, then Jazz, Tucker, and finally, Sam. He doesn’t regret it, not one bit, but it might make this choice hard to make – since the easiest way to run away would be to fake his death and forgo any contact with everyone from his old life. Maybe they’d know he wasn’t (fully) dead, maybe they’d just be extremely miserable, he wouldn't know. 

Another issue is that he’s the current Ghost King, and oh boy doesn’t that complicate things? He keeps getting more powerful, which means keeping his cover is getting harder – an unsettling and overpowering aura surrounds him now, and sure, it reacts to other people’s emotions as well as his own, which in theory should make it easier to hide, since everyone in Amity seems to have differing opinions on his two  personas, but the fact that his aura is big enough that others take notice is concerning enough on its own; he’s control over his abilities needs to be impeccable or he risks getting found out; and he’s pretty sure some of his more ghostly traits are beginning to bleed over into his human form. He also needs stable access to a portal, since he needs to take at least two trips per month to the Ghost Zone so he can check over things with Clockwork and parade around to remind the citizens of the realm that he is their king; he can’t officially take over since he’s still alive, once he’s entirely dead he will, but for now the observants act as regents and that’s more than fine by him.

And third: he’s not really sure where he should go. You’d think Gotham would be his first option because of his father, but he has too much media presence, so Danny’d be brought to the spotlight. Does anyone in Amity care about Gotham? Not that he knows of. But it’d still be too big of a risk. Plus, Tucker really wants to work in Wayne Enterprises in the future, he’s sure that it’d become a problem in no time.

So… what to do? Money isn’t a problem, since he has access to all the treasure hoarded by Pariah Dark over the centuries, but that’s not all he has to consider. He needs some sort of safety net, that much is obvious, and since he won’t be able to count on his regular support system, he should fall back on his blood.

Maybe he could go to Blüdhaven? It’s close enough to Gotham that he can go there if he somehow needs to come into contact with someone from his biological family but not enough that he’d be immediately clocked… but then there’s Nightwing… as long as he doesn’t get  into any trouble it should be fine, right? It’s not like there’s a city without a hero nowadays… Urgh, nevermind, he’ll come back to these thoughts later, he’d rather not spend his rare moment of peace coming up with what to do after he fakes his death.

Sometimes fate decides that things should be ultimately out of your hands – but Damian Al Ghul Wayne fights with all his might to avoid such a thing becoming a rule in his life. When he came to live with his father, around 7 years ago, he held out hope that his twin had made it and would eventually return to his side. That never happened. And now Damian isn’t sure how to approach the topic of Danyal with his family, so he just… doesn’t. Even after all this time, it feels wrong to keep the memory of Danyal to himself, he should be celebrated, even if his death was premature and almost a decade has passed.

Danyal had died the same day as Grandfather, which is why his grief isn’t questioned –, even if the Bats are well aware of his distaste of his Grandfather’s actions, now that he’s recognized them for what they were. Damian isn’t sure if it’ll ever come to pass, because in quiet moments like this, he thinks of what could have been.

His twin was never needlessly violent, and his killings were virtually a mercy, compared to the others in the LoA, even himself. Maybe he would have adapted faster than Damian did, maybe he would have made a better Robin, maybe they would still wake up together and share little moments of quiet.

It’s all speculation, all it will ever be. They never found his body, but even now, years later, the image of his pierced chest is burned between the other twin’s eyes, it wasn’t likely to survive a wound like that, and even if he did, the bloodloss would’ve killed him regardless. But to a 9 year old, the what ifs often overshadow reality, which is why Damian had kept his hopes up, afterall, one of the many teachings of the League was that “if there isn’t a body then one should always consider the possibility of the victim having survived”. But now, at 16, he could see it for what it was, the foolishness of a child longing for what is gone – he’ll never admit it, but in the darkest, deepest and most hidden part of his heart, Damian still has a little bit of wonder, almost completely squashed, but a bit of hope of seeing his brother once again remains.

There’s no use for pondering at the moment, time doesn’t stop and soon one of his siblings will notice his absence at breakfast and come to pester him, thus he gets up and readies himself to face another hectic morning.

“If I were to go missing, where would you search for me first?” was not a question Tucker was ready for, like, at all, but especially at two in the afternoon on a saturday. Danny hadn’t been the same since that thing with Dan or whatever they had dubbed it, he didn’t change much, but he seemed to get lost in thought more frequently, and Tucker didn’t blame him! Really! But man, what went through his head was morbid at times, and he maybe shouldn’t voice those out of nowhere.

— Uhh I guess… your parent’s basement? — awkward silence fills the air, it’s the most obvious answer, but not a thing they normally consider outloud. A grimace crosses Danny’s face for a second.

— No, I mean, if I …ran away. — he says, and there’s some hesitancy. Obviously, there’s more to the question, but Tucker can’t for the life of him figure out what it could be.

— I’d guess Wisconsin, since it’s close by and you might be able to rely on Vlad if push comes to shove, but that is not likely at all, — Sam starts before coming to a slight pause to think. — Maybe Missouri?

— Why…?

— Cause it’s close by, it’s not like we’d let you get far before going after you. — she smirks and gives his arm a little punch.

—  I think we’d find Danny in Florida, actually, — Tucker chuckles before continuing — it’s the only place where he wouldn’t stand out.

— Oh, screw you. — He says before he lunges at Tucker.

Sam watches for a bit, the conversation got to her more than it did to Tucker. She decides that now isn’t the time to worry about it, she doesn’t think Danny would leave them behind without saying anything, not after all they’ve been through, but it did leave a sour taste in her mouth. To stop herself from spiraling down a rabbit hole, she jumps – literally jumps – into the struggle. 

That is how the three friends end up scratched all over, with dirt and grass stuck to their clothes and silly smiles on their faces, looking up at the sky as the clouds pass by. Moments like this used to be common, but with the chaos that is Amity Park nowadays a chance to just relax and joke around as friends seems more and more like a luxury.

Their peace is interrupted when Danny sighs, a defeated sigh that usually comes after his breath fogs – which means there is a ghost nearby. A shout ruptures the quiet and kills any hopes for the rest of their afternoon.

— BEWARE! I AM THE BOX GHOST!

— Alright, — he gets up and stretches. — Just wait for me, I’ll be back in a sec.

Sam and Tucker look at each other, worried glances on both ends – they didn’t even need to say anything. Things will never go back to the way they were before, that is something all three know intimately. Danny died. Everything they have witnessed is bound to leave some sort of mark as well. And there are the Fentons. Sam and Tucker knew Danny and Jazz loved their parents, but at this point it seemed inevitable that someday they’d turn on Danny, and it seems that even if he doesn’t talk about it, it’s also something he believes.

It feels unfair, Danny seemed to have come from a bad background and was settling into his own skin and fully letting his guard down for what felt like the first time before the accident. And wasn’t that heartbreaking? He’d adjusted to the life in Amity early on, but to actually enjoy himself? That took some 2-3 years, and to trust that he could always rely on the people around him? It had just started happening into the beginning of their ninth grade. Then the portal opened and he had to put some of those walls back up to protect himself, not just emotionally, but physically as well. Now, they’re in 11th grade, they should be looking for colleges and studying for entrance exams, but instead, Danny is thinking of running away.

They know how their friend thinks at this point, and it’s undeniable they’ll likely have to say goodbye soon.

Dealing with the Box Ghost wasn’t hard, but it sure was annoying. After the fight (if you could even call it that) ended he went back to Sam and Tuck, they laid on the grass for a while longer, ultimately, they got hungry and headed to the Nasty Burger and ate before parting ways.

Danny plops face first into his bed. Well… he could have approached that with more subtlety. Maybe it was his subconscious trying to get them to look for him, or something, to prepare them for his absence. That sounds too close to something Jazz would say…

He turns around, putting his arm on his forehead. His thoughts keep getting away from him, always back to Damian – would he have liked Amity Park? Probably not, if he was being honest with himself. He couldn’t even see himself liking it there when he arrived – in fact: He had hated it. The city was so calm it felt forced, the Fentons so loving it felt like a trap, the kids lacked any malice at all, everything screamed danger at him, like he was about to be ambushed. Nothing ever came to that, just a nice, cozy, little town. 

Well, until the portal opened, that is. 

He stops and just looks at his ceiling for a bit, the old glow in the dark stars already discolored and lacking any actual functionality, there was no reason for them to remain there but the attachment to what they used to be, kinda like him. There was no escaping his current reality. No escaping his need to desert this city, this family, this life. 

Danny sits up and looks around his room, which for the last few years had become his safe haven. He looks at the stained carpet, marked by his many sleepovers with Sam and Tuck, he looks at his ceiling fan, that was cracked from the time the trio had tried to recreate the solar system on it, he looks at his closet, his posters, his desk, everything that was proof of the life he had lived here.

He needs some water and something to eat before setting his plan up.

As he heads down the stairs to the first floor he hears his mother’s soft voice coming from the kitchen.

— Oh Jack, I’m so worried about Danny, — the phrase startles Danny, he turns invisible and intangible, floating a bit so as to not make any sound, — his ecto-contamination has only gotten worse over the years… how can we be sure he’s okay?

— Honey, I’m sure Danno is fine! He must be building up resistance!

— But what if… what if it’s fusing to him? What if there’s no reversing this? — His mom is chewing on her lower lip, clearly distressed. 

At the sight, his dad softens up and hugs her, his voice comforting as he speaks, — We’ll make sure he’s fine, Maddie. We might not know what happened, but we know each other and we know what we’re doing, we’re experts in our field. 

Danny can’t stay there anymore, they know he has ecto in his system and they know it’s getting worse. They know and they want to “fix” him. He’s completely and utterly fucked. 

Alongside his nervousness there is also newfound resolve. He quickly phases into his room, grabs his thermos, maybe two shirts and a pair of pants, he shoves it all inside an old backpack he hasn’t used in years. He will need to dispose of his phone, taking anything electronic with him will leave a trail and he can’t have that. Hopefully his parents don’t have his ecto signature yet, he doesn’t think he has the time to get rid of it if they do.

He checks the kitchen again, they aren’t there anymore, likely back in the lab, then. He has to leave through the front door, to not raise any suspicions. Now, how to make this realistic? Maybe he can fake being murdered? No, Amity doesn’t really have that type of violence. Maybe he can fake being a casualty in a ghost attack? But he’d have to damage public spaces to do so and he doesn’t want to endanger anyone else… Fake getting kidnapped? It wouldn’t be the first time it happened, even as a human.

He could also just up and leave. It’s not like Amity has any actual investigative police force… Maybe he’s complicating things too much. He needs to go before he has time to chicken out. His parents will probably make a move on his ecto contamination within the week and he can’t be there for that.

— Bye mom, dad, be back in a bit! — and so, he shuts the door – leaving his house for what will probably be the last time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inevitabilities And Such Unfortunate Things > Those We Leave Behind

AO3

[mechanoize]

Finally finished their redesigns, now i can draw them kissing and being in love. continuity rambling + individual refs under the cut hehhe

Prowl!

he has impeccable balance and reflex, + he essentially walks on his tippy toes :3 he can lock his doorwings into a neutral position, but his audial antennae are a dead giveaway for his emotions. He is not missing an optic, his lense is used to enhance his vision and is often traded between eyes, as the scoped vision can make his helm ache. his metabolism is insanely fast and he needs to fuel often, with a preference for very energon-compact foods. (Namely, energon goodies.)

he was the autobot's second in command, though after Optimus's death he leads alongside Magnus. Despite Rodimus holding the matrix, he had no desire to pursue a position of authority, thus leaving Prowl and Magnus to take over! Although he is not a necessarily social mech, he is well-liked by the autobots stationed on earth. Many of their victories are credited to him.

jazz!

he was short for a decepticon, but hes of average height for an autobot. He has mods that allow him to manipulate sound and soundwaves, + his doorwings are removable and can be repositioned elsewhere on his frame! after returning from a multi-millenium long undercover mission to infiltrate Decepticon ranks, his every attempt at reconnection with Prowl was immediately shot down. For awhile he was a cause for suspicion, but Optimus was very firm about his trust prior to his death.

he is a skilled operative with a distaste for unnecessary violence or cruelty. After losing his twin at the hands of Megatron, he's attempted to lead a pacifistic life. It has not gone well, but he recognizes certain sacrifices need to be made.

cliffjumper!

he's not a minicon! he shares a similar frame type with Bumblebee, who is both younger and shorter than he is. Part of his purpose on earth was to establish and maintain a positive Cybertronian-Human relationship. While his appreciation for flora is to be questioned, he loves Earth's fauna! Specifically farmlife...

cliffjumper and jazz bonded quickly over an appreciation for earth and it's cultures. Cliff suffers from severely low self esteem and impulsive recklessness. one of his greatest desires is to be taken seriously, to prove himself of use. Despite a few bumps in the road, his partners have done a tremendous job at reassuring him. Jazz's insistence to adopt him into his specOps unit was the start, where he also met his amica, Mirage.

[hellfire--cult]

Banner and dividers by me

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 ❤

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter One: The Omen

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Two ☆ Series Masterlist

Series Description: Being friends with Lily Evans was difficult when you were head over heels for her ex-boyfriend James. Your problems are only made worse when you begin receiving ominous omens that point to a less than desirable future.

General Fic Warnings & Tags: Marauders era seventh year, female reader (she/her/miss/etc.), use of Y/N and L/N, readers appearance is not described other than her generally being able-bodied and larger than a house elf, at some point the reader smokes cigarettes/weed/drinks alcohol (don't smoke, kids), swearing typical of an 18 year old in the UK, canon-typical violence, dueling, and first wizarding war stuff, mentions of the readers mother and father, mentions of characters getting sick after drinking but no descriptions.

Notes: hey! so just a fair warning that this is a slow burn and the first couple of chapters in are particularly plot heavy. Also, this is cross posted on my ao3 if you want to give it a read there instead :)

Word Count: 4.3k

The near silence of the library was a welcomed escape from the busy corridors and lively Common Room, which was always packed just after classes ended. Tomorrow was Friday and Gryffindor was playing a quidditch match this weekend, meaning your chance to have any amount of free time in the coming days relied heavily on some Thursday night cramming. At the heavy wooden table tucked between tall rows of books, you and Remus worked quietly. It was one of the rare times you were alone together, and his aura of calm placidity was exactly what you needed at the moment. 

Despite your intentions of studying, the papers strewn out in front of you were beginning to give you a headache. If you were somewhere with a more lenient volume policy, you would’ve groaned rather dramatically in utter frustration or banged your head against the table top. It had been a long time since you’ve been this lost on an assignment, a Divination assignment, no less. Your eyes kept pulling away from the three different books laid before you, running instead along the dark shelves and bumpy leather spines. It was a treat when one of them flew from its place, skirting out of your nook and down the aisle in a blur of solid color. 

You both had gotten one and a half lovely, serene hours of uninterrupted study time before your mutual friend came around the corner, plopping down suddenly in the seat beside you. Your daydreams were interrupted, replaced by an even better distraction. James smiled brightly at you, curly brown hair in a heap on top of his head. You couldn’t help but grin back, his pleasantness infectious even when you were in a sour mood. 

“Hello,” you said, forgetting your work completely. 

He returned your greeting before frowning at Remus over his complete lack of acknowledgment upon his arrival. 

“What's got you so focused?” he whispered, glancing down at the parchment that Remus was writing on. 

“Transfiguration,” he answered, still engrossed and only half listening. James shot him a funny look which caused you to stifle a laugh, though Remus was unamused. 

“I can see you, you know,” he drawled. 

James snickered quietly, attempting to keep up a his newfound facade as a serious student, lest he ruin his impeccable reputation. 

“Why’re you slumming it here with us?” you asked James, your head coming to rest in your hand as you turned to face him. His wire-rimmed glasses began to fall, so he pushed them back up onto the bridge of his nose.

“He should be here to study,” Remus added, finally smirking to himself. James rolled his eyes, throwing his arms over the back of his chair. 

“Can’t even pay your friends a visit anymore, I see.” He tipped his chair back on two legs, dangerously close to falling. After a moment of careful balancing, he returned all four legs to the floor where they belonged, his head lulling onto his shoulder. “Sirius ditched me to run off with Seraphina, and Peter and Marlene are joining forces on Herbology.”

Seraphina was Sirius’s most recent belle, but no one thought it would last much longer. She didn’t like that he smoked and he detested her revulsion to it. Before his date with her last weekend, he had to wash his hair twice and use far too much cologne, which gave everyone around him an awful headache. This may be the couple's last hoorah, as you had been with Sirius not three hours ago, each of you puffing smoke out of the window of an empty classroom. 

“Why don’t you help?” you asked, referring to Peter and Marlene.

“Peter says I’m mean when I help,” answered James with a shrug. 

“How awful,” you teased, watching as a large green book shot out of the shelf over Remus’ head, whipping left down the aisle. It was true that sometimes James couldn’t understand that things didn’t come so easy to everyone. Once, you had stupidly asked him for his help in DADA. Never again. 

“That's all right,” James began again, “With those gits ditching me, you’re my new favorite. Not Remus, of course. He won’t give me enough attention.”

You hated when he did that: made you feel special. He couldn’t possibly be serious, as it was simply the perfect opportunity to take a dig at his friend. But Godric, did you want it to be true. Until now you had done a very good job at projecting a casual air about yourself, protecting your feelings behind a mask of mild indifference. You tried your best to regain what was left of your resolve, cracked by his stupid joke and the way he was looking so handsome today. It was criminal, really, an Azkaban level offense. You wanted to slap that lovely, teasing smile from his face and throw him under the invisibility cloak. Begrudgingly, you laughed, Remus snorting as he continued to scratch away with his quill. 

“Oh, and I wasn’t before?” you said, hopefully hiding your fancy. 

James rolled his eyes again, thankfully not having noticed anything out of the ordinary. You must’ve been an excellent actress, or James was an extraordinary friend, because he never seemed to catch on no matter how badly you slipped up. You weren’t sure if things were easier or harder when Lily was always hanging off his arm. Godric, had that been a tough eight months. 

James then changed the subject to something less threatening to your long-held secret, much to your relief, “I’ve been running over some new maneuvers with the team. It’s taking some of the younger ones a bit to get the hang of, but we’re looking good. I don’t think Hufflepuff has a chance on Saturday.” 

“That's great,” you whispered.

“Sirius came up with some of it, worked on it all day last Sunday with me. We’re calling it the Grumblesnad–” 

James went on to explain, or attempt to explain, the rather complicated plays he and Sirius had invented. Half of the technical jargon you did not understand, though you were able to catch the gist. He seemed so eager to tell you that you refrained from stopping him too often, wanting to watch his eyes light up and hands wave mindlessly. You enjoyed when he was like this, entranced by his own excitement, unburdened and utterly content. 

Soon after James had finished his animated explanation of the Grumblesnad, it was just about time for dinner. The sun had gone down around an hour ago, leaving the library to be lit only by the large lamps hanging upon the walls. Although the room was warm and glowing, begging you to stay just a while longer, your hunger was beginning to get to you. You and Remus packed up your things, throwing all three of your Divination books into your bag. Remus held a thick, wide tome, the cover decorated with tangled vines and pale purple flowers. 

“You guys go on without me,” he said, propping up the book in the crook of his elbow like the pose of a marble statue. “I’ve got to check this out.”

Remus walked past you and James to head down the labyrinthine aisles with another word, you and James following behind. You each left the library together, Remus promising again that he’d catch up. 

Your journey was in silence for a while, James’s shoes clicking against the stone floor like a metronome. There were many other students heading your same direction, a few first or second years whizzing past in a fit of laughter. You smiled at the memory of your first few years at Hogwarts, remembering for the first time in a while that you’d be leaving here for good in a matter of months. You had been so shy at first, clinging to Lily like she was a buoy out in the ocean. Severus had done the same, though as the years went on he seemed to shrivel a bit, slinking back into the shadows while Lily moved farther into the light. She had dragged you along with her, practically forcing you to be friends with those who had remained acquaintances for the better part of five years. For this, you would always be eternally grateful. 

You were pulled from your shameless reminiscing when James reached out for the strap of your bag, taking it from you before you could do anything about it. 

“What’re you doing?” you asked as he threw it over his shoulder, adjusting the strap a bit.  

“Godric, this thing is heavy,” he said, making a show if it dragging him down towards the floor. You laughed, soon beginning to play with your tie, not knowing what else to do with your hands. 

“You don’t have to carry it for me,” you said softly, feeling rather bad. Now, each of his shoulders was carrying its own load, yours unburdened.  

He shook his head immediately, curls flopping against his forehead. 

“I don’t mind,” he said, brushing it off as if it were nothing at all. “Besides, you’ll end up falling to the dungeons carrying this thing.”

You bit your tongue so that you wouldn’t tell him how kind he was, how much he made you into someone rather witless. You dropped your hands, swinging them a few times before they met behind your back. It was getting worse. You could tell by the way you had to keep on reminding yourself to act like a normal person, constantly having to make sure you weren't letting anything on. It was difficult to pinpoint when this change occurred, though knowing the exact date and time wouldn't really do you much good in the end. Something in you was breaking, and it scared you shitless. 

“But really," James said, holding onto the strap of your bag, "what do you have in this?”

You shrugged. “Just some books, a few boulders thrown in for good measure.”

He shoved you lightly on the shoulder, throwing you slightly off kilter. You giggled, cringing at yourself as you did. Soon you could see the large doors to the Great Hall up ahead, and you ran over to them. You then made a show of opening one for him, waiting patiently for him to catch up. He smiled, and you were glad to have put it there.

“Just trying to return the favor,” you said, laughing when he passed you, feigning displeasure. 

He handed you back your bag as you parted ways, you heading over to your side of the table near Lily, him with the other Marauders. Walking down the aisle, you let out a silent sigh of blissful relief, having mostly rid yourself of him for the time being. No matter how much you enjoyed his company, it was an awful amount of work acting nonchalant, particularly when he kept being so nice. It was always better when you were in a group and he was forced to split his attention between multiple parties. Currently, mealtimes were becoming your new favorite. 

As you sat down in your usual spot between Lily and Marlene, you plopped your bag down on floor behind you, which landed with a heavy thud. Lily glanced over her shoulder to look at it. 

“Godric, what’s in that thing?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The fire in the Common Room popped, sending a flurry of orange sparks into the alcove of the stone hearth. Most had settled in for the night, filling the room with a steady stream chatter and scratching quills. James and Sirius sat across from each other at one of the small tables in the back doing schoolwork, Lily and Peter beside them playing a game of wizards chess. You and Remus were reading in two of the large armchairs, you with a muggle novel borrowed from Lily. 

Sirius's elbows were resting on the table, his head in his hands and mouth slightly agape. He shook his head a bit, eyes wide as he started down at his papers. 

“Do you think Professor Vector dreams in Arithmancy, or it’s just a hobby?”

You looked up from your book, noticing Sirius’s paper covered with exed out numbers and messily written notes. He still wore his uniform, though his tie was undone and the top two buttons of his shirt, which was growing wrinkled, had been opened. Lily's head popped up from where it was turned down towards her game, which she was currently winning. She leaned over to peer at his paper the best she could.

“What’s the matter?” she asked kindly. Sirius only gave her a glance before looking at James, who was stifling a laugh. 

“It’s your fault,” said Sirius, scoffing at his friend’s continued chortling. “You forced me to take it third year. Should’ve been like Wormtail and gone the easy route.”

You all knew he was lying, for despite all his bitching and moaning, Sirius was just as bright as James. He’d complain endlessly about Arithmancy just as he had done last year when he convinced himself he’d flunk the O.W.L, in which he ultimately scored an O. Once and a while he might even brood over such fears, tucking himself away in a dark corner of the library to study, fighting off a great deal of unnecessary anxiety. 

“Hey!” Peter piped up at the mention of his name, especially due to its use in such an offending fashion. Lily made an excellent move, snagging one of his knights. Peter groaned in frustration, momentarily distracted. 

“Divination is a valuable subject, one that is often overlooked by certain individuals,” you defended, glaring at Sirius before offering Peter a much needed smile. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius said, flicking his head to get the hair out of his eyes. You shrugged, turning back to your book. “You’re only saying that ‘cause you’re good at it,” he grumbled, looking back down at his papers to concentrate on the confusing array of seemingly nonsensical numbers. 

“Doesn’t take much,” said Remus from his armchair, legs curled up like a pretzel. Now you were grumbling, mumbling something about his “Stupid E in Ancient Runes.”

James began screwing the cap back on his inkwell, gathering his parchment into a neat pile before him. Lily and Peter had turned back to their game, Peter taking an awfully long while contemplating his next move. He finally made one, taking out one of her rooks. 

“How’d your fish thing go?” James asked, looking between you and Peter. Your most recent Divinations project, which you had been working on in the library, involved Ichthyomancy, or the helpful power of fish in the prediction of one's fortune. You were to carefully observe the fish of the Great Lake for a few hours during a “completely and utterly random time of day!” and attempt to read your fortune for the coming weeks. 

Peter sighed heavily at the mention of the project, sinking further into his chair. Lily was still glancing at the game board, twirling a lock of auburn hair between her fingers. 

“Well…” said Peter, somewhat sniveling. 

“Not having any luck?” you asked. “No pun intended.”

Peter sighed again, shaking his head. “Just when I think I’ve got something, they all seem to swim away. I think I’m repelling them or something.” 

“Not surprising,” said Sirius, still focused on his own work.

“You should be studying,” Remus reminded him, to which Sirius surprisingly obeyed. If anyone could get Sirius to do something, it was Remus. It was if he possessed an ancient form of magic no one else knew.

“How about you,” James asked. “You said you were coming along swimmingly the other day.” You could tell he was rather proud of himself for that one from the look on his face, eyes glancing between the others as if to see if anyone else noticed. Any other time you would have readily appeased him and laughed, but all your willingness to jest had drained from you the moment he asked the question. 

“Well…” you began, echoing Peter. You weren’t sure if you wanted to bring it up just yet, though you didn’t want to lie either. Your head fell back against the chair as you let out a small, crippled noise. “I thought I was, but then today in the library I was trying to cross reference the meaning, but I’m getting all these odd readings.”

“Like what?” Lily inquired, moving a piece on the board. Peter let out a breath of relief when all of his pieces remained safe. 

“The first thing I saw right when I got out there was a school of eight orange fish heading with the current, due north. So, that's obviously unbridled joy. ”

“ Obviously ,” mumbled Remus. 

You rolled your eyes and continued, “Then, there were twelve pink ones heading across, due west, not with or against the current. However, another joined in–”

“Oh,” said Lily, catching the meaning. Peter nodded in acknowledgment as well. 

“Yeah, so heartache. But, that's not even the worst of it. After a few hours with nothing much happening, I spotted a red and purple fish amongst a school of white,” you trailed off, watching Lily’s face contort in confusion, her hands coming up to the arms of her chair. 

“You’re kidding!” 

James perked up, glancing between each of you, who like Peter didn’t seem to have a clue what any of it meant. Remus and Sirius had now been fully roused, book and schoolwork forgotten. 

“What? What?” James asked, though neither you nor Lily replied soon enough for his liking. “Come on, what is it? What's so bad about a red and purple fish?” 

Lily swallowed, turning to James. “Red and purple is bad. ”

“Really bad,” you added. 

“Did you catch how many white ones were in the school?” Lily inquired. 

“No, I’d guess around ten, but I can’t be sure.” You shot her a pained, slightly terrified expression, knowing the less white fish the better. Ten or so was not a good sign. 

Lily sighed and all fell silent for a beat, the once easy atmosphere becoming tense and suffocating. You heard Peter picking at a loose thread on his seat. 

“What does it mean?” James asked.

Lily answered, speaking slowly and with great purpose, “Well, in isolation, it can predict a discovery of sorts, though accompanied by so many of the white-” she faltered, eyes dancing to yours. 

“It would seem to indicate a total loss of innocence,” you finished. Sirius perked, casting you an impish smirk.

“A loss of innocence?” he repeated, slow and so bloody irritating . “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Not that kind of innocence,” Lily corrected. 

“It’s more like a complete change in worldview, like witnessing the death of a loved one,” you explained. Again came silence, Peter pursing his lips and lowering his head like a vigil for your fate.

“But, uh–” James stammered, “you said you also got signs of ‘unbridled joy.’ How can you have that and the death of a loved one?”

“I said like the death of a loved one.”

“That doesn’t change anything.” The intensity of his worry was blinding. You figured he had a lot of practice between Remus and Sirius. 

“I don’t know how they’re supposed to connect. That’s why I’m so confused over it.” You turned to Lily. “Do you have any clue? Any at all?” 

Lily sat deep in thought, a hand coming to her face. She rubbed down her cheek, her foot beginning to tap on the carpet. “No,” she said sadly, “I don’t. I’m sorry.”

Before you had told anyone, you were easily able to brush it off as no big deal. Now, with your friend’s tensed jaws and pitying glances, your fears had been confirmed. You began to loathe yourself for drawing so much attention towards your problems, wishing that Lily would do something to hide her increasing concern. You didn't like seeing her like this, nor any of the others for that matter. Remus shifted around so he could sit properly in his chair, slipping a bookmark into the pages of his novel and tossing it aside.

“Does it have to be bad, per se?” he asked. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw James running a finger along the neck of his sweater. 

“I don’t think so," you said finally, "but I’m not sure what sort of prediction I could make based on what I’ve been able to gather. I have joy, heartache, and a loss of innocence. When I just had the joy and heartache, I thought that maybe something bad would happen that turned out to be good in the end, or that something good would turn out to be bad. There’s a million options for that, I could have easily come up with a reading to turn in for class. But that bloody red and purple fish had to come along and spoil the whole thing.” You let out an exasperated sigh, guilty once again for your rant, although no one seemed annoyed with you. On the contrary, all appeared genuinely saddened by your strange omen. 

“It can’t be that bad, whatever it is," said Lily. "You know how Divination can be sometimes. You get this awful omen and it turns out that you just break a quill or get the flu.” She leaned over towards you, face full of a profound compassion that she had worn for so many before. It reminded you of the way she used to look at Severus years ago before their falling out, when he appeared to her a small, shy kid in need of a friend. For a brief moment, your worries switched from the omen to the acute possibility you would one day be like him, mourning the loss of her friendship caused by your own betrayal towards her. 

"She's right," Peter offered, giving what he could. You smiled, trying to match his and Lily's enthusiasm. 

“I ought to owl my parents, make sure the house hasn’t collapsed,” you joked, though no one seemed to find it very funny. 

James said your name, downtrodden and caring. “It’ll be all right, I’m sure of it.” 

“You could always ask Professor Quattlebaum,” Peter suggested, voice lifting a bit.

After a moment you nodded slowly, taking a short breath through your nose. “I probably should, though it might take from my grade.”

“Or you could go fishing just kill the slimy thing,” Sirius said, making a much better attempt at brightening the mood than yours was. “That has to have some sort of effect.”

“Not really how it works, Sirius,” said Lily solemnly. 

“James is right,” you began, your tone as brave as you could bear, “it’ll be fine. It’s probably like you said, Lily. It’ll turn out to be so silly, then we’ll have a good laugh over worrying about it so much.”

After brushing off a few more comments of concern, you all went back to working quietly, Remus devouring his book once more. You tried to do the same, but your eyes seemed to gloss over the words without reading them. Eventually, Lily won the game with Peter, though didn’t gloat over her victory. As the evening lengthened, students meandered out of the Common Room and to their dormitories. Sirius was the only one left with schoolwork to do, excusing himself to his room so he could “focus on the dumbest subject in history…besides Divination.”  

“How studious!” James called out to him, watching as he ascended the staircase. Sirius threw up his middle finger, not looking back.

It wasn’t long after that you checked your wristwatch, noticing it getting late. You excused yourself to your room, the others likely heading to bed themselves sooner rather than later.

When you entered your dormitory, Marlene and Dorcas were laid out on their beds chatting. Dorcas had an impressive pile of candy in front of her: Chocolate Frogs, Dolly Beads, Caramel Cobwebs, Fizzing Whizbees, and various forms of glimmering marshmallows. Marlene reached across the space between their beds and grabbed a pink, rose shaped one, taking a large bite out of it. 

“Oi!” Dorcas protested, though Marlene only laughed maniacally, leaning back against her headboard. 

“Having yourselves a feast, I see,” you said to them, kicking off your shoes beside your bed. 

“ Dorcas is having a feast,” Marlene drawled, “and being rather stingy, too.” 

“You’re aware it’s a Thursday?” you said with a smile, glancing over your shoulder to see Dorcas open up a Chocolate Frog package. 

“I’m aware,” she said, grabbing the leaping frog in record time. It squirmed a bit in an attempt to hop away before growing still. Dorcas took a bite of it, pulling out the collectable card from the box. "Ugh, Artemisia Lufkin again?"

When you emerged from the lavatory ready for bed, Lily had just walked into the room, untying her shoes by the door. You climbed into your four-poster, getting ready to draw the curtains when she came up to you, mouth pulled to one side. 

“Are you sure you’re all right?” 

You had unwisely hoped that nothing more would be said about your omen, now wishing more than ever you hadn't even brought it up to begin with. You couldn't think of a way she could help you any more than she already had, hating that she was likely racking her brain for solutions. 

You nodded, smiling softly in an effort to ease her. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s like you said, it’ll turn out to be nothing.”

She nodded, her eyes drifting across your face before she gave you a small smile, turning to retrieve her own pajamas and leaving you to cocoon yourself in for the night. You pulled your curtains closed to the sound of Lily's footsteps creaking on an ancient floorboard.

End Notes: at any point in this series, if you notice something that should go under the warnings/tags, please let me know! The same goes for grammatical errors. this gal is dyslexic, so as Nick from New Girl so aptly put it, I'm not even sure if I know how to read, I've only just memorized a lot of words. Misspellings don't even look wrong to me lol

Chapter Two

[homelanderbutbig]

A Sweet Weird, Kinda Like You (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1080 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

You sneak into The Seven's meeting room for early morning smooches.

It's an early morning at the Vought Tower, and the employees are just starting to pour in.

Deciding to take advantage of the early hours, you ride the elevator up to the 99th floor to visit Homelander. You don't have to start your shift for 15 minutes, and you know he would appreciate seeing you before you have to slave away at your desk job.

The Seven's meeting room is quite a sight to behold, with the table and chairs built taller to accommodate Homelander's height, so he doesn't have to feel like an adult sitting at the kid's table. His chair was also made custom just for him, which he is grateful for as no one else can reach that high to sit on his 'throne'.

As expected, you find Homelander alone, arms behind his back while he stands by the windows to survey the city. Although he doesn't turn around to acknowledge you as you walk up to him, you're pretty sure there's a smile on his face right now.

"Morning big guy," you say, leaning up against his leg. At long last you look up at him, getting to see him beaming down at you and showing off his pretty canines.

"You're here early," he chuckles softly, lowering one of his large hands to your shoulder. He uses his long fingers to stroke your shoulder while his thumb splays across your back.

"I wanted to see my favourite supe before I started work," you remark, tilting your head into his hip.

"Oh? I'm your favourite am I?" he taunts cheekily, giving your shoulder a playful squeeze. You can't uphold your unimpressed frown for long as your expression causes him to laugh, and you giggle along with him.

Homelander bends down to lift you up to his chest, rubbing his nose against yours. His big eyes sparkle like two flawless sapphires, completely taken in by the sight of you. With his face so close to yours, you can feel the slightest quivering of his lips and you know what he is waiting for permission for. Even though he takes what he wants from everyone else, he would never dare to do that to you.

When you finally give him a nod he kisses you, doing his best not to let your love consume him lest he not be able to listen for approaching footsteps. However, he finds himself getting lost in your adoration, especially feeling one of your hands caressing his cheek. He strains himself trying not to keen too loudly into your mouth, appreciative that you aren't using your wicked fingers to scratch along his undercut.

Carefully, he walks backwards to sit down into his oversized chair, keeping you seated in his lap. He can't help but treasure how your body fits so perfectly on his thighs, like you were meant to be there. During the kiss he moves his hands to your hips, loving how impeccably his palms conform to them.

After breaking from your kiss, Homelander belatedly notices the little brown bag you've been holding onto this entire time. He decides not to use his X-ray vision to look at what's inside, but he can't help but notice the sickeningly sweet smell emanating from within.

"What… is that?" he asks, furrowing his brow at your questionable breakfast.

"I got a couple cake pops from Jitter Bean before I came into work," you explain, cracking up at his confused expression.

"I bought one for you and one for me," you tell him, pulling them out of the bag. He feels accosted looking at these little dough balls on lollipop sticks, coated in pink chocolate and dusted with rainbow sprinkles.

"It's good, trust me. Just try it," you proclaim, holding one out for him. He glares at you like you've told him you shot JFK, just utterly dumbfounded at what you're requesting of him. You, a mere human, are asking… nay, ordering the world's greatest superhero to eat something so childish? But his faux outrage doesn't scare you, and you simply wiggle one of the cake pops in front of his mouth.

With a heavy exhale and a hard swallow, Homelander succumbs to your fiendish demands. Painstakingly, he takes the cake pop in between his teeth, chewing it hesitantly like he's unsure if you're really just trying to poison him. You eat your cake pop as you watch him go through this assault to his taste buds, snickering at his overly dramatic theatrics.

"Well? What do you think?" you inquire as he finishes his diabolical breakfast.

"It's… weird," he utters, his face scrunched up like he just ate a whole lemon.

"A good weird?" you ponder, seeing his lips twitch from your question as he shoots you a sly smirk.

"It's a sweet weird … kinda like you," he chuckles, leaning back close for another kiss. The sugary taste of the cake pops mingles in with both of your lips. As much as he would rather never eat one of those death balls again, the fact that you thought of him when you bought two is enough to set his heart aflame. More than anything, he wishes this precious morning would never end.

Suddenly, Homelander lets out a deep sigh from his nose. He hears movement closing in on the meeting room. Unfortunately, your time is up.

"My team's on their way," he grumbles, rolling his eyes. "Five minutes late, as usual. Like they don't think I notice."

"I should get going too," you note. "I have to start my shift."

"Promise you'll stop by the penthouse later?" he asks, unable to hide his subtle concern. Even though you never would, he can never fully mask that voice in his head that makes him worry you won't want to see him anymore.

"Of course I will. Try and stop me," you declare, giving him one last kiss. A relieved smile spreads across his face; the disaster has been averted. You always know just what to say to calm his anxieties.

He lets you down off his lap and you quickly shuffle out of the meeting room, giving Homelander a wave goodbye before heading off for the elevator.

Standing back up, he returns to his position solemnly gazing out the windows.

Homelander holds onto the faint taste of cake pop on his lips, the little reminder of how you like to include him in your basic human rituals. The little reminder of how you make him human too.

[alwayswriting101]

Can you recommend some Florelia fanfics please?

So this is actually a terrible question to ask me because I think all Florelia fics are amazing just by the nature of having my OTP 😅.

But here are my general recommendations:

Literally anything and everything by @florelia12. All of her work is fantastic x1000, But Moonlight & Monsters has literally changed my life. I love this fic (and all her fics) soooo much. She is also a (obviously) a massive Florelia stan. AO3 page

The Florelia chapters in Winx Club One Shots by SeaEmerald (chapters 2, 5, and 6). Oh my God is their writing incredible. Very highly recommend all of their fics, if you're interested in other couples/fandoms.

A Natural Fit: Soulmates AU. Also anything by QueenofHufflepuff. I love their writing style to the point where it's inspired my own fics!) They also go under Matrices and Vectors on ffn.

All the Petals Fall by @lynpheas. I swear to God this fic made me quit writing because like what point is there in writing when a fic this good exists 😭😭😭. Also recommend all of @lynpheas works but not all of them are Florelia. AO3 page

Black Sky by SilverSongstress. I cannot emphasize how epic this story is. There's lots of Florelia conflict (that doesn't really get resolved by the end (at least to my memory)) and I was okay with that! There are some issues re: formatting but it's truly a very strong story.

Lunar Rainbow and Under the Cherry Blossoms by Roxy Fan 4 Ever. Literally love these fics so much. So romantic!

The Neighbor by libra986. Now I actually don't remember shit from fuck from this fic, but I remember being OBESSED with it...do with that what you will...

High Temperatures . I like this one.

Six Years, This one is just so nostalgic for me, I think it was one of the OG Florelia fics 😭. I can't tell you how much it PAINS me the sequel is unfinished.

I Promise, Courage from the Heart, Save Me, My Turn to Save You, and Remember Me by Lill2350. Again very nostalgic fics! I think they have a few more Florelia fics as well.

Living a Dream. Very Cute fic.

Chastity Slightly NSFW so don't open if you're at work or underage. But I thought this was a really cute/romantic fic.

Style by KinkyWings. I think this fic is really, really cute. The author has other fics based on more...untraditional pairings (and fics that are definitely NSFW), but I really like this one.

Waned Worries. Why did this person orphan this account 😭? Really good oneshot.

Kamilia has written a bunch of Florelia stories, too many to list and many of them NSFW in one way or another, but check them out if you'd like!

Flora's Christmas. Just a cute Christmas Time Oneshot

As an aside: here are some fics that I tend to really enjoy that focus on Flora or (mostly) Helia as individuals and not as a couple.

Retired, Falling, and The Moonlight Project by @redemptionarcsucker. Their characterizations of Helia are unmatched. And their writing is impeccable! AO3 page

Also @floralovebot has really great Flora/Helia/Florelia headcanons/characterizations on their page.

A Conversation Between... Literally, love this fic with every beat of my heart since I read it years ago. This fic actually focuses mostly on Stormy but Flora has a lot of characterization through her.

The Meaning of the Color Black and Inspired by Kikurukina Bal Des'cagel. Fantastic Helia centric stories by a fantastic author. They have also written on other pairings.

Names. A random, unromantic one shot but I really like the concept.

Never Have I Ever and A Specialist's Journey by QueenofHufflepuff. I've already raved about them in the rec above. Really amazing work. The former is Flora based and the latter mostly Helia based (from what I can remember).

The Shimmering Sunflowers. I am a big fan of fics where Flora is a big sister to Miele.

And finally, I always recommend The Great Witch Rebellion, Brothers at Arms, Band of Brothers, and Bonds of Brotherhood by tearsinrain These fics are focused on the group as a whole and are basically rewrites of the main storyline, but these fics are fantastic. I would bind them into a book if I could. The characterization of Helia (who unfortunately is not really featured in Brothers at Arms), is amazing. And the Florelia scenes that are available are really amazing.

I am a big, big fan of Florelia. If I could fit every fic featuring them onto this ask, I would, but unfortunately, I can't! But if anyone has any additional recommendations please feel free to add! I'm sure there are some stories/authors whom I loved but might have missed, but this is a very general list.