Chapter Text
James Hook, captain of the Jolly Roger, moved with the practiced grace of a man who never forgot he was being watched. His coat trailed behind him, heavy with gilt trim, his polished boots ringing sharply against the planks. Around him, his crew bent to their tasks, keeping the vessel in order under his sharp gaze. For once, the sea was calm, and he allowed himself a fleeting moment of satisfaction.
The peace fractured with a shout.
“Cap’n! Someone in the water!”
He groaned, dragging the edge of his hook along the railing in a slow scrape before raising his telescope. The glass showed a pale figure tossed helplessly in the tide. With a flick of his wrist, the order was given, and soon the body was dragged up over the side, sodden clothes clinging to every curve.
She was young - eighteen, perhaps. Black hair cropped neatly at her chin, lashes dark against pale skin. Her frame was slight, yet undeniably feminine, narrow waist tapering into wide hips, her chest rising unsteadily with breath. Blue eyes remained closed, but even unconscious she radiated something striking.
Hook knelt, coat tails spreading over the deck, and slipped the gleaming curve of his hook beneath her chin. He tilted her head as if appraising a rare treasure, his smile precise, measured - charming in its cruelty.
“My, my,” he murmured, almost to himself, though his men leaned closer to catch the words. “The sea has grown generous.”
He looked her over with a slow, deliberate patience, the kind reserved for fine wine or delicate art. “A lady on my deck at last,” he said, tone smooth as silk, though the glint in his eyes betrayed something far less noble. “And what sort of gentleman would I be if I did not offer her shelter?”
Straightening, he flicked water from his coat and let the smile harden into command.
“See that she’s warmed and clothed,” he ordered. “Our guest deserves… proper treatment.”
The pause in his words lingered long enough that every man on deck understood: she belonged to him.
The cabin smelled of salt and smoke, wood polish and damp wool. Lanternlight swayed with the ship’s movements, casting golden arcs across the room. Raven lay stretched across the captain’s bed, her hair spread dark against the pillow, her skin pale against the deep crimson of the blanket pulled over her. She had been dried, her soaked clothes stripped away and replaced with a simple linen shift, the fabric loose against her frame but doing nothing to blunt the curves he had already memorized.
James Hook sat in his chair by the table, one hand curled around the stem of a goblet, the other - his hook - resting idly on the armrest. He had been watching her for some time. Considering.
She was too old to be one of Peter Pan’s new playthings, too young to be a pirate’s castaway. Her beauty was not the hardened kind of island women, nor the girlish fancy of a London child. Too pale for a native. Too striking to discard as wreckage. She did not belong here. Not on his ship. Not in Neverland at all.
That alone made her dangerous. Or valuable.
His gaze lingered on the slope of her shoulder beneath the linen, the delicate outline of her collarbone catching the light. He sipped his wine, letting the possibilities turn over in his mind. A prize, a threat, a companion - he had yet to decide.
Then she shifted.
The movement was small, no more than a twitch of her fingers against the blanket, but it pulled his attention like a hook in his own flesh. Her lashes fluttered, shadows breaking over her cheeks, and then her eyes opened.
What looked back at him was not the simple blue of sea or sky. Her irises shimmered like starlight scattered across midnight, galaxies caught and caged within the fragile curve of her gaze. Lashes long and dark framed them, and within the glittering depths, her pupils pulled like black holes, edged by a faint ring of gold - fading, burning, the dying flare of a star.
Hook froze. He had seen oceans swallow men whole, storms split the heavens, cannon fire tear through ships. He had seen mermaids with eyes like knives, Wendy and her simpering innocence, Pan with his endless, taunting youth. But nothing - nothing - had ever looked at him like this girl did, as if she carried the cosmos inside her skull, as if she had dragged eternity up from the deep and placed it behind her lashes.
His mouth went dry, though he masked it quickly, setting his goblet down with deliberate care. The hook traced against the armrest, steadying his hand, reminding him who he was. Captain James Hook did not falter. He did not hesitate.
And yet, when his lips curved into a smile, it came slower than he intended.
“Well,” he murmured, voice velvet and steel, “our guest is full of surprises.”
Raven stared at the man across the room from her without moving, eyes locked on him.
He looked like something cut out of a fever dream - tall and severe, his presence filling the cabin even from where he leaned in his high-backed chair. The coat he wore was a deep, blood-red velvet, heavy with gold embroidery that glimmered in the shifting lanternlight. It clung to his broad shoulders and tapered neatly at his waist, the fabric draped with the elegance of a nobleman rather than the brutality of a pirate. His hat was monstrous, wide-brimmed and feathered, a crown of scarlet and black perched above a mane of dark curls that spilled in ringlets around his sharp face.
His mustache was thin, curved into a perfect arch at the corners, framing a mouth that seemed made for both biting words and courtly smiles. His eyes, though - icy and unrelenting - cut across the room like blades, pale enough to glow beneath the shadow of his hat. Even at rest, they burned with calculation, like he was already dismantling her piece by piece in his mind.
But it was the hand - or the absence of one - that caught her. The gleam of a polished silver hook, catching the firelight as he toyed with it idly, tapping it against the chair as though waiting for her to notice. She couldn’t look away. That curve of steel meant danger, meant power, meant she was trapped in a room with a man who carried death at the end of his arm and wore it like jewelry.
Slowly, Raven lifted herself up from the mattress, sitting up with her eyes locked on that silver hook for a hand.
Danger. Dread. Curiosity.
She had never been very good at being smart about things like this. Things like him. Things that could probably kill her without batting an eye and yet she would say thank you.
Her rosey lips parted and she wet them with her tongue slowly, her eyes lifting from the hook to his eyes.
“And who would you be?” she asked, her voice low but melodious, like a lullaby in words, a melody, the sound of rainfall on the deck and that gentle sweetness that came after a storm.
James Hook leaned back, gaze glittering with keen interest. He sipped his wine, watching Raven as he might an exotic creature he had caught. It was rare for him to be so intrigued, so quickly, and a part of him was already calculating what value he could gain from it.
Her question, though, pulled a chuckle from his throat, low and dark.
"My name," he said, setting the goblet aside with an almost languid gesture, "wouldn't be half so interesting as who you are, my lady. The sea does not often deliver such pretty gifts to my door."
My lady.
His accent was interesting. British with a hint of Scottish. But there was more to it, the sound of a man well traveled. His voice was deep, but soft. There wasn't a hint of gravel even in the dangerous lilt of his tongue.
Raven's eyes followed him until he stood in front of her, her head tilting back to see him. She wasn't sure which was more prevalent, the feeling of dread or the intense curiosity. She recognized him. Vaguely. She just could remember where.
"Raven," she murmured. "Raven Kyber."
"Raven."
He repeated the name with an almost musical precision, the syllables rolling off his tongue like a caress. The corner of his mouth curled in faint amusement, his gaze roaming over her face as if looking for answers.
"It suits you."
He leaned one hip against the table, folding his arms and tilting his head curiously, the lanternlight casting shadows across his sharp face.
"Tell me, Raven. How did a lady of your obvious... refinement, end up in the middle of the sea?"
Refinement? What refinement. She was a punk kid from Texas.
Raven blinked. And then finally looked down at herself.
Her usual clothes of jeans and fishnets were gone. Instead she was wearing a dress. A goddamn dress.
The fabric clung heavy against her skin, damp at the hem as though it had soaked in the same seawater still drying from her hair. Black velvet, threaded through with faint crimson stitching, cinched tight across her ribs in a bodice laced with black ribbon. Lace scratched at her collarbones, sleeves long and flared until they nearly drowned her hands. The skirt spilled wide and layered, too much fabric for her to move easily, pooling around her like a puddle of ink. A velvet choker pressed close against her throat, weighted with a tarnished silver charm she didn’t recognize.
She stared down at herself in disbelief. Jeans and fishnets didn’t just dissolve into corsets and lace. But the fabric was still wet. Hook had looked at her like she was some polished creature, refined and deliberate. Which meant - he hadn’t dressed her. He thought the gown belonged to her, the way it clung and dripped as though she had crawled up from the sea in it.
Refinement? What refinement. She was a punk kid from Texas. Yet here she sat, trussed up like some gothic doll, the dress giving lies about a life she never lived.
But she looked back up at him and tried to correct him and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She tried to speak but physically couldn't. Something was stopping her. Gluing her lips closed.
She rapidly thought through every way she could change her words, panic somehow not setting in yet, and finally, she managed:
"I don't know where I am."
Now that was interesting.
His gaze became even keener. He watched her carefully, taking in every detail - her wide eyes, her parted lips, the way her slender fingers twisted in the folds of her skirt. She looked like a princess from a fairytale, lost in a wood. Delicate. Valuable.
He leaned closer, the hook in his hand catching the light as he lifted it to her chin, tipping her head up to meet his gaze.
"You don't know where you are," he repeated, his tone soft, dangerous. "Or how you got here?"
The metal under her chin was cold. His eyes were colder.
"No," she said slowly, testing what she was able to say. "I went to sleep in my bed at home and... Then I was in the sea. And now I'm here."
Her words were stilted, slow, as she fought for every word against whatever had glued her mouth shut.
His brow furrowed as she spoke, his curiosity growing by the minute. Her words were halting, as though it pained her to speak them. It was almost like something was keeping her from saying certain things.
His suspicion twisted into annoyance. He didn't like not having the full picture.
James moved behind her, his free hand resting on the back of the bed as he leaned in close, his voice a low purr against her ear.
"You can't remember a thing?" he murmured, his breath warm on her skin. "Nothing at all?"
Raven's eyes closed briefly, trying to think. To remember.
She has fallen asleep watching an old movie. The star decals on her ceiling had seemed brighter that night and she remembered wishing on them. What has she wished for?
"Star light, star bright, I wish for a cruel love this night."
Her eyes snapped open and her head turned, looking at him with wide, starlit blue eyes.
That's where she recognized him from. The fucking movie. The Peter Pan movie she had been watching.
This was Captain fucking Hook.
Oh she was screwed. She was so screwed. She tried to blurt out everything she had remembered, but her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth again and the only thing that came out was a sound far too close to a whine.
He wouldn't know she couldn't speak. He wouldn't realize the whine was frustration and not...
The sound of her whine sent a shiver down his spine, sharp and unexpected. He'd expected fear, alarm, confusion.
He hadn't expected the strange, almost whiny sound that came from her throat.
James had to bite back a smirk as he moved around to face her again, his steps slow and languid. He watched her face, her wide, starlit eyes, the way she tried and failed to speak.
He knew her type, oh yes. Pretty, frightened little bird. Too used to getting her way to deal with a threat like him.
"Poor little bird."
His voice was low, almost sweet. He stepped closer, reaching out to brush a strand of still-damp hair off her face, the pads of his fingers skimming across her forehead, down past her temple to trace the curve of her cheek. Her skin was soft, delicate. He could break her with a single word, and yet she was here, staring up at him with those wide, starlit eyes, and looking like she had no idea how much danger she was in.
"Can't even remember how you got here."
There was that dread again, deep and clawing in Raven's stomach.
I swear to God, she thought to herself, if I ended up in some stupid kids movie because of a dumbass wish on fake stars, I may actually kill someone.
But she didn't speak. Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at him, flicking from his face to the hook that was in place of his hand. He could gut her like a fish with that hook if he wanted to. She'd need to be careful.
"Who are you?" she asked, already knowing the answer but testing if she could speak again. There was no resistance this time. It seemed whatever force had brought her here wanted her to play a role rather than herself.
The question drew a sharp smile from him. He liked her like this - subdued, wary yet defiant. It made his blood sing in his veins. He leaned down, bracing a hand on the bed beside her hip, his gaze never leaving hers. It raked over her face, taking in every flicker of expression, every hint of uncertainty.
He chuckled at her question, low and dark and dangerous.
"Don't you know, darling?" James drawled, his voice low and edged with mockery. "You're looking at the infamous Captain James Hook."
Raven leaned back, away from him but further onto the bed she was sitting on.
She went through everything she knew of Captain Hook in her mind, from the books, from the Disney Fairy tie in books, from the cartoons, from the live action movies, from the plays. She wasn't the biggest fan of Peter Pan, but she had grown up on it. And now that knowledge may just save her life.
Hook was theatrical, stately, and liked to pretend to be a gentleman. He was ruthless and cruel but he wrapped it in the guise of who he used to be before becoming a pirate. Educated, Englishman, went to Eton. But his lore was shrouded in secret and so many adaptations had changed his backstory that she wasn't sure which one would apply here.
Raven decided that she needed to be exceptionally careful. If this was a movie or a storybook, she couldn't fuck up the timeline. She couldn't fuck up the characters. And telling them they were characters would do exactly that.
"Never heard of you," she said smoothly, eyes flicking back up to his.
A little liar, then. His gaze narrowed as she spoke, a smirk toying at the corner of his mouth. That sweet, innocent look might fool someone else, but he was no fool. He could see the lie in the subtle shift of her body, the flicker in her eyes.
He moved closer, his free hand resting on her knee. He didn't miss the way she leaned away from him, only to find herself further onto the bed, trapped between his body and the mattress.
"No?" he murmured, his smile sharp and dangerous. "You're lying, darling."
The hand on her knee set warning bells off in her mind and she tensed.
"Don't touch me," she hissed, slapping his only good hand away.
Her sharp tone surprised him. He was used to compliance, people trembling in dread as he neared.
But the girl with the starshine eyes, in the pretty little dress, was slapping his hand.
There was a flash of anger, of irritation. He wanted to grab her, to make her apologize. She was a little thing, soft and breakable, and here she was, glaring at him, snapping like she could actually fight him.
He clenched his jaw, his gaze hardening.
"Careful, birdy."
Raven's patience wore thin.
She was cold, wet, tired, scared, lost, and wearing a fucking closet. He could get fucked.
"No, you be careful," she hissed, shoving him away from her and standing from the bed to follow him, jabbing his chest with her finger.
"Just because you're some big scary fucking pirate doesn't make you the boss of me and it certainly doesn't mean I'm afraid of you. You don't touch a teenaged girl like that without her fucking permission, you creep, it's weird! And if you try something like that again, I'll run you through with your own goddamn sword - story be damned!"
Oh, he liked that.
She was fire, all spark and light, and she had no idea she was playing with matches. He caught her hand with his hook, easily pinning her slender fingers against the fabric of his coat, and drew her even closer, until she was nearly pressed to him.
He loved a fight, especially when he won.
"You've got quite the mouth on you, darling," he murmured, his eyes glinting with a dangerous delight. "I could think of other uses for that tongue, besides barking at me like a little puppy."
"Try it, bitch, I'll bite your dick off," Raven snapped.
She was a spitfire. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't already half-enraptured just by the defiant set of her chin. She didn't know when to stop.
He laughed, dark and low, enjoying the way she seethed. Her chest was heaving, cheeks flushed with anger and something else, and damn if that little dress didn't look better for it.
His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her up against him with a firm, unyielding grip. He leaned down, his voice a rumble against her ear. "A challenge. I always like challenges."
Raven sneered. Alright, hang the storybook shit.
Without an ounce of hesitation, she jerked her knee up hard between his legs and bolted.
Not for the door.
For his sword on the table.
He didn't see it coming. She was too fast, her knee catching him right in the groin with more power than he was expecting from her slender frame. He groaned, doubling over, his breath leaving him in a sharp exhale.
He should've seen it coming. A girl like her, with that kind of temper? She was dangerous, and she'd just gotten one over on him.
Her feet pounded the floor, and his vision, still blurry with pain, focused on the sight of her running for his sword.
"Damnit-"
Raven made it, drew the blade from the sheath, and spun, the skirt of her dress flaring.
She didn't wait, she wasn't honorable.
The sword plunged through his back, piercing out of his chest in one smooth, strong motion.
He'd thought it was a fight.
He'd been ready to catch her around the waist and throw her against the nearest wall. He was going to teach her a lesson about how he was the one in charge, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.
He'd been prepared to put her on her knees and make her scream, in every way he could.
He hadn't been expecting her to grab his sword and run him through, and now he was staring at her with wide eyes, her slender, feminine hand clenched on the hilt of the rapier that
He stared, his thoughts spinning like sand through his fingers. In all his years, never had he been so caught off guard.
He'd been ready for a fight.
He'd expected her to struggle, to curse and kick and struggle, then submit once she realized she'd lost.
He'd never been stabbed by a scrawny little thing like her.
His head swam, his body burning with the pain of the blade in his chest. His breath came in short, hot pants, and his hand gripped her hip almost desperately, trying to pull her even closer.
"Why?" he managed, his voice a hoarse, almost broken whisper. "Why did you do that?" His gaze locked on her sharp blue eyes, searching for an answer, a reason, anything that would make sense.
"You-" he coughed, the blade shifting in his chest, making him groan. "Damn you, why?"
"I told you not to fucking touch me," Raven sneered.
As he coughed up blood and she realized she had just killed a man, the world around them got dark.
"What the-"
It went darker and darker until -
Raven opened her eyes, back on the bed like it had never happened. He was standing over her, no stab wound, the sword still on the table, without a single indication that he remembered that she had just killed him.
"Poor little bird," he said, repeating the same words from before, "can't even remember how you got here."
Raven's heart sank as she realized that she couldn't fuck up the story. Whatever thing she had found herself in, she couldn't change it. Not by killing him and escaping at least.
He smirked down at her, his voice low and smooth as he repeated the same words he'd said before, as if she was a toy, a puppet to be played with. Was this a nightmare? A dream?
How was it possible that he was standing here, completely unharmed, with not a drop of blood on him?
His gaze raked over her, taking in the sight of her on the bed, the way her body was pressed into the sheets. He chuckled.
"What's wrong, darling? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Raven swallowed hard.
Okay, so the magic or whatever it was wouldn't let her say certain things and it reset the world if she killed him.
How the fuck was she supposed to get out, then?
"Maybe I have," she muttered, looking down at her own hands.
Well, the plan to kill him was shot.
His smirk deepened at her response. She looked shaken, and he was all the more intrigued for it. This little bird was a puzzle he'd enjoy solving.
He moved to the bed, sitting on the side of it, his thighs pressed dangerously close to her waist. He watched her, his gaze lingering on her slender hands, the way they curled into the sheets. His fingers ached to grab her, to pin her in place and see what she'd do.
"And why does that make you upset, darling?" he asked, his voice soft yet edged in mockery.
Raven's fists clenched in her lap. Oh she wanted to punch him. Right in the nose.
"Don't call me darling," she muttered, eyes narrowing at the ground.
He watched her reaction, a hint of smug satisfaction at the way she clenched her fists, the anger in her eyes. He could taste her defiance. She was like a caged animal, all sharp claws and fierce defiance.
His hand lifted to her chin, gripping it firmly, forcing her head up to meet his gaze.
"Look at me," he ordered, his voice a sharp command. "And I will call you darling every damn time I please."
Oh, she'd kill him again if she could.
Raven sneered.
"Don't touch me, pirate," she snapped, slapping his hand away.
The little gesture made his blood sing. No one slapped his hand, especially not a girl like her - slender, pretty, defiant.
His gaze hardened, anger sparking in his eyes. Pretty women were supposed to fawn over him. They were supposed to be grateful that his attention was on them, because they knew they were lucky for even that much.
This little bird, this starling, was like a beacon of defiance in a world of submission.
"I will touch you as I please," he growled, his tone dripping with dark intent.
"Try it and I'll gut you with your own hook," Raven hissed, shifting away from him and scooting down the bed away from him.
She couldn't kill him, it would just reset the world. But she'd be damned if she let him touch her like he owned her.
Damn this girl, she was a little whirlwind of fury.
She was fleeing from him, backing away like a wild animal caught in a corner. He should be amused at her attempt to escape, not fascinated, and he definitely shouldn't be intrigued by the challenge she presented.
But something about her defiance, her stubbornness, her fight, made his blood roar in his veins. It made him want to dominate her.
He moved quickly, reaching out and wrapping his arm around her waist. He hauled her back against his chest.
Raven gasped, the point of his hook hand stabbing into her back through the thick corset to poke her skin. Her hands flew to his chest to stop her momentum, the clothes of his coat warm under her palms, her chest hard and strong.
Her glare heated, lip curling in disgust, but she didn't move. That hook could kill her with a single slash at her back. She wasn't stupid.
"What do you want from me, Hook?" she snapped, forgetting he hadn't told her his name this time.
He loved the way she felt pressed against him, all soft, feminine curves and heat. He could feel every single muscle in her slender frame, tensing against him, and could see the way her eyes glared with anger. He wanted to push her to the bed and teach her what it meant to be at his mercy. She would scream, and she'd be begging for him to touch her by the time he was done.
His fingers dug into her waist, and he leaned in close, his voice a whisper.
"What do I want, sweetheart? You."
Raven's stomach dropped.
Oh god. Oh god he was going to fucking rape her.
She swallowed, breath shaking as she exhaled. Fear clutched at her heart, but she refused to show it.
No. Screw resetting the world, she wasn't about to sit back and take it like a helpless storybook damsel.
Her head shot forward, forehead crunching into his nose hard.
The blow caught him off guard, a sharp pain exploding through his head. His vision darkened, and he cursed, feeling blood trickling out of his nose.
But that only made the anger worse. No one, no one, attacked him. Especially not a little girl.
He grabbed her shoulders, shoving her into the bed, pinning her against the mattress. He was furious, his expression dark and deadly.
"You little brat," he growled, the words low and furious. "You'll pay for that."
Raven grunted in pain as his hook dug into her shoulder, the point stabbing into her skin and blood pooling on her pale skin like a drop of rubies on snow.
She glared up at him. She wasn't stupid. She knew she was no match for him with him looking for her to fight him. But she wasn't about to let him have his way with her.
She grabbed his wrists as hard as she could and tried to shove him off of her, struggling against his hold and his weight on her.
It was endearing, the way she struggled under him, a snarling, furious whirlwind, trying her hardest to fight him off. It made his blood sing, and he was torn between the urge to laugh and the urge to break her.
He leaned over her, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand, keeping her in place. He could feel her strength, her slender body coiled tight and tense like a snake.
"That's it," he growled. "Keep fighting, starling. See how good that does you."
The silver hook that replaced his left hand dragged over the front of her corset and Raven shrieked in rage, struggling. She kicked her legs as hard as she could, her bare feet hitting his coat and sliding over his ribs on either side, inadvertently putting him between her legs.
His gaze darkened as he looked down at her, her slender legs kicking against him, his own thighs pressing against hers on accident.
She was a vision, her eyes wild and furious, her pretty little face flushed with rage. He could hear her breathing, hard and ragged, and he could feel her body arching underneath him, trying to buck him off.
He knew she had no idea what her movements looked like to him. She was innocent, and it only made him want her more.
"Stop fighting me like a wildcat," he growled, and one of his thighs slid between hers, making her cry out in surprise. He pressed his body down against hers, keeping her wrists pinned above her head and ignoring the pain of her kicking feet.
His hook began moving, slowly, tracing the outline of her jaw, the point resting against her bottom lip and pulling it down.
"Stop struggling, darling."
The taste of metal from his hook hand on her lip made her skin itch. Raven snarled up at Captain Hook, eyes blazing.
"If you touch me, asshole, I will make sure you never fuck again."
He couldn't help the sharp chuckle, the dark laugh that escaped him at her threat. She didn't even realize how vulnerable she actually was, caught underneath him, pinned to the bed like a fragile little bird.
His hand holding her wrists down tightened, pressing into her skin, his hook tracing the edge of her collarbone.
"Is that right, precious?" he purred, his voice low and dangerous. "Are you really in a position to make threats right now, starling?"
Raven felt the top of her dress pull under the hook and she froze. Oh, he wasn't going to stop. He wasn't going to stop.
Fear. Dread. Fear.
She swallowed.
"You can rape me all you want, Hook," she hissed. "But you have to sleep at some point."
He liked the way her body had gone still under him, the fear in her eyes, the realization that she was at his mercy. He leaned down close, his lips a few inches from hers, his breath hot against her face.
He laughed again, a cruel, dark laugh.
"You're smart, too, eh? I'm starting to think I should have a little pet, sweetheart. A girl like you, all sharp temper and pretty words. I bet you'd look real pretty on your knees."
Raven's eyes locked on the ceiling above her, not looking at him, not in the moment. She had been raped before. She knew how to cope.
"Do your worst," she muttered. "You're not the first man to assault me, Hook, and you probably won't be the last. But I'll promise you this."
Her eyes flicked back to his, too blue, too eerie. Too calm.
"Sleep with one eye fucking open, because you won't be the first man I've killed for it either."
The look in her eyes was almost eerie, the calm gaze of a girl who was used to danger, who wasn't afraid of anything. It made him pause, the thought that she'd been touched before, that someone else had dallied with her.
He leaned even closer, his hot breath ghosting along her jawline and down onto her throat.
"You think you can make me afraid, darling? You're fragile, breakable. I could break you with a snap of my fingers. You're a little bird, nothing more."
"Keep tellin' yourself that, buddy," Raven replied, eyes sliding back to the cabin ceiling and already disassociating. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
He didn't like that. He hated that look in her eyes - too distant, too far away from him. She was already gone, already retreating into herself as though she'd survived worse than him.
And something about that twisted in his gut, made his blood boil with irritation and possessiveness.
"You look at me," he snarled, tightening his grip on her wrist until she winced, the hook under her chin tilting her face back to him sharply. "You don’t get to hide from me."
But by the time her eyes met his, they were vacant. Blank. Gone.
Raven didn't answer, she didn't make a sound. Her body went pliant under him.
And just like that - she was gone.
Her body was limp under him, her eyes hollow and empty, as though she'd checked out entirely. Like she wasn't even there anymore.
It made his gut twist with irritation. He hated when they did this - when they shut down on him. What was the point of taking a bird if it didn't sing for you? If it just laid there like a corpse?
He snarled and released her abruptly, pushing himself off of her in disgust.
"Pathetic."
The word was a hiss, his gaze narrowed and furious. His blood was pounding in his ears, and that same twisted anger clawed at his gut. He'd wanted her to fight, to scratch and snap and snarl like a little wild kitten.
He'd wanted her to fear him, to respect him, not shut down into some lifeless shell of a girl.
He slammed a fist into the wall.
"Damn it."
Raven blinked, looking over at him. With his back turned, he couldn't see her sit up. He couldn't see her feet touch the ground.
And by the time he heard her, she was already bolting for the door of the cabin and yanking it open.
It took him a split second to realize what was happening, and by then it was too late.
She was already out the door, bolting away into whatever lay ahead, and he was just turning, his chest heaving as he went after her, cursing in anger and irritation.
"You little brat!"
Raven laughed breathlessly as she sprinted across the deck of the Jolly Roger, dodging confused pirates and her dress flowing behind her like a train of night.
Her bare feet slapped wood, she ducked under rigging. She hiked up her dress and leapt onto the prow of the ship, one hand grabbing the rope as she teetered almost tipping over side.
"So long, Hook!" she called, laughing.
And then she jumped, hitting the ice cold water hard.
He reached the edge of the ship in time to see her falling, her laughter ringing in his ears. He watched her hit the icy water with a splash, then disappear under the surface like a dream.
He was livid. He'd been played, outmaneuvered by a pretty little bird. How had a mere girl outsmarted him? How had a fragile thing outrun him so easily?
His expression darkened even further in anger, and he cursed loudly, kicking at the wood in frustration.
It wasn't fair. He'd been so close, so damn close to owning her, and she'd slipped through his fingers at the last minute, like a pretty little fish. That laugh, the sound of her defiant joy as she'd called back to him, it made his blood burn.
She was smart, bold, and pretty, all the things he found himself wanting in a woman. But she was also infuriating. And she'd just jumped off the side of his ship into the ocean.
He should just let her drown, be done with it. She was a nuisance, more trouble than she was worth. He'd wasted enough time with her, and a quick little death wouldn't be a huge loss.
But the thought of her at the bottom of the ocean, her wide eyes open and empty like a porcelain china doll’s, made his gut churn uncomfortably.
He cursed, his jaw clenching and his fingers curling into a fist.
Damn her. Damn her.
Raven swam under the water, the fabric of her dress weighing her down and pulling her further under. But she was a strong swimmer and she could hold her breath. She tore off the corset under the water, letting it float uselessly without her and ripped the layers of her dress. When her legs were mostly free, just in the bodice and her underwear, she started kicking hard, trying to get as far from the ship as she could before she had to surface for air.
When her lungs started burning, she went up, breaking the waves with a heavy gasp. She only looked back once before she started swimming for the shore of an island in the distant dark.
It was the sound of her gasp that caught him again, and his gaze was drawn to the ocean again, searching for any trace of her.
He saw the flash of her head as she surfaced, the flash of her hair, the pale expanse of her skin against the black water. She was heading for the island.
His heart thumped in his chest, wild, like a captured animal.
No. She wouldn't get away so easily. Not again.
Raven swam hard, legs kicking and arms pumping. She had to get to shore. Even if it was Neverland and full of even more things that could kill her, she refused to go out like this.
He watched her swim towards the shore, the way her body moved through the water like a mermaid, and he hated the way his gaze lingered on her form, how he watched the play of her muscles under her skin, how the water made her dress and hair stick to her body.
The image of her running away had made him furious, but somehow, the thought of her all flushed and dripping as she reached the beach… he couldn't deny the sudden spike of desire in his gut.
Damn her.
He should let her drown. He wanted to let her drown.
But instead, he found himself barking orders at his crew to lower a longboat.
The pirates scrambled to obey, lowering the boat into the churning waves. Hook leapt down into it with a single graceful motion, landing lightly as his crew began rowing after Raven's disappearing figure.
"You won't escape me that easily, little bird," he murmured under his breath, watching her struggle through the water ahead. Already he could see her tiring - no mortal could swim that far without rest. The island was still distant… and she would never make it.
A slow smirk curled his lips as he watched her falter. "Row faster," he commanded quietly. "I want to catch her just as she realizes she can't get away."
Raven was getting tired. Too tired. Too tired too fast. The cold water was seeping warmth from her bones and she couldn't keep up the relentless pace she had started with.
She could hear them. She had no way of getting away this time and now she was practically naked just to swim.
Fuck. She'd screwed herself.
Taking a deep breath, Raven dove under the water, not aiming for shore any longer, just down.
The moment she dove under again, he saw her - her lithe body disappearing into the dark water.
His smirk fell from his face instantly, replaced by a scowl. He knew that trick - she was trying to hide beneath the waves where he couldn't see her. But she was still so close to shore; there were rocks and jagged reefs below that could tear open her soft skin without hesitation.
He growled under his breath and rose to stand in the longboat, balancing effortlessly despite its swaying motion. "You foolish girl," he muttered before diving smoothly after her into the freezing water.
Raven let the undertow take her, following the current. Under the water, there was little visibility, but she was counting on that. She swam hard, following the current to make it easier for herself and faster.
Jagged rocks loomed ahead of her in the water out of nowhere and she moved around and through them easily, body curving around the stones like she was a mermaid. There was a break and she went up for air before diving back down toward the reef.
He cursed as he watched her disappear into the dark water, his hand flexing at his side in irritation.
She was gone. She'd evaded him - again. He could have just let her drown and be done with it, but that felt too easy. No, she deserved to suffer for defying him like this.
He clambered back into the longboat with a growl of frustration.
"Row us to shore," he snapped at his men, his gaze locked on where she'd vanished beneath the waves. "She'll tire eventually - or drown." His fingers drummed impatiently against the hilt of his sword as they turned towards land.
But part of him... part of him couldn't shake off that sickening twist in his gut at imagining her body limp and lifeless among those rocks below them.
Raven made her way quickly, being pulled further down the shoreline by the current. She was exhausted, but eventually, she did drag herself onto the sand.
The waves hit her back and ankles as she panted, hauling herself far enough up that the tide wouldn't drown her if she passed out, then she collapsed. Limp, exhausted, cold, and soaked to the bone. She shivered, looking up at the stars over her.
A single star glittered brighter than the others. She smiled wearily.
"Second star to the right," she whispered, closing her eyes. "And straight on... till morning."
The men rowed towards the shore, and he had his gaze locked on the water, watching, waiting for any sign of her... but he saw nothing.
His irritation grew with each passing second; she should have surfaced by now. He should have her, damn it, wrapped in his arms like a pretty, trembling toy, all his.
But she was nowhere in sight. "Faster," he snapped at his men, and they rowed even harder than before.
Where was she?
By the time they reached the sand, he was out of the boat before the damn thing had even hit the shallows, striding across the beach with long, purposeful steps.
His gaze flicked over the dark stretch of sand, scanning for any sign of her, any hint among the shifting shadows...
Nothing.
His teeth ground together in anger. No. She had to be here somewhere. He couldn't let her escape so easily.
"Search the beach!" he barked at his men. "She's here somewhere! Find her!"
Raven startled from her stupor at the sound of shouting voices. She cursed, scrambling up with sodden and heavy limbs. She limped toward the treeline, not bothering to hide her tracks. She needed to hide. She needed to get out of sight and stay out of sight.
Raven stumbled through the brush and palm fronds, sand turning to dirt under her feet. She went a ways to the left, then to the right, trying to confuse her tracks so they wouldn't immediately find her. Then, taking a gamble on her strength, she started climbing one of the more densely packed trees.
Her feet were still soft from the water and the bark cut into her soles, blood bubbling up to mix with sand and dirt. She didn't stop, hauling herself up as far as she could.
He could hear her stumbling through the brush and palm fronds, the rustling and snapping of branches and leaves, and his head whipped towards the sound. There.
"You fool," he growled softly, his feet moving before he even realized what he was doing. His men were shouting at him, but he ignored them, his gaze fixed on the shadows where she had disappeared.
He weaved through the trees, following her path with ease. The trail of broken foliage was blatant, almost like she wanted him to find her.
Raven held her breath, staring down at the down from her hiding place as the pirates started searching.
Maybe it was more dangerous on the island than with him, with the natives and the Lost Boys that Peter Pan led - the books had implied that Peter killed the boys when they got too old, and Raven was certainly too old - but she wasn't about to choose the lesser of two evils.
His head tilted back as he searched the trees, scanning the foliage up above the trail, following the line of destruction. She was a clever little thing, but she wasn't hiding well.
"There!" one of his men called from behind him, pointing upwards.
Hook caught a glimpse of a slender figure high in the trees - pale skin and long, tangled hair. Perfect.
His lips curled into a smirk. "Don't move!" he commanded, taking a step closer. "You've got nowhere to go, sweetling."
Well... Fuck.
Raven had maybe thirty seconds before they started climbing.
The enemy of mine enemy is my friend.
Raven cupped her mouth and crowed three times - just like Peter Pan - as loud as she could manage, hoping against hope that someone in the Lost Boys would hear it.
The cawing startled him, and he froze, his smirk dropping from his face instantly. His men glanced around nervously - no one cawed like that except...
"Peter," one of them hissed under their breath.
Hook's expression darkened into pure hatred. If that insufferable little brat was coming for her...
He moved before he could stop himself, reaching up to grab the branch closest to her in an attempt to climb after her - but just as his fingers brushed it, something sharp pierced through the back of his coat.
A dagger.
"Looking for me?" a voice taunted from behind him.
Peter Pan, floating in all his eternal preteen glory, grinned at Hook, red hair wild and green eyes flashing.
Raven sighed in relief.
Maybe not a hero, but at this point, she'd take the distraction.
Peter smirked, spinning his dagger in his fingers before pointing it at Hook's throat. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size, old man?" he taunted.
Hook sneered. "And why don't you mind your own business, boy?"
The two of them locked into their usual deadly banter - leaving Raven forgotten for the moment - and she took full advantage.
She shimmied down the opposite side of the tree and bolted deeper into Neverland while they were distracted.
Let them fight over nothing - she had freedom to chase.
Hook and Peter were far too lost in their banter to notice her disappearing into the brush, and they continued fighting and trading insults and threats while she tried to lose herself in the undergrowth.
She could hear their voices even now - Peter taunting with his high, childish voice, and Hook's deep, growling, "Damnable brat" - but they were growing fainter with each tree she passed.
She had maybe ten, twenty minutes before they realized she was gone - and that would not nearly be enough.
But it would be enough to double back and find the longboat. And that's exactly what she did.
Knowing Hook, he wouldn't leave a guard, and it would be a skeleton crew on the ship, if any at all.
The two boats were easy to find. Without hesitation, she took a sharp rock and gored a hole through the first boat so it would sink, tossing the oars into the water. Then she pushed the second one into the water, climbed in, and started rowing toward the ship.
The ship was quiet when she got there - only a few of the pirates remained on board, and they were all too drunk or distracted to notice her slipping onto the deck.
She grabbed a discarded jacket and threw it around herself for warmth before creeping through the halls, looking for anything useful.
She found her weapon in an old kitchen knife. And with it, she slit three throats and pushed the bodies into the water. She could hear distant yelling from the fight, she didn't have much time.
She didn't bother with trying to figure out how to sail, she'd never be able to man a vessel this size on her own. She did however raid the Captain's cabin for clothes, a coat, a hat for the sun, and a sword.
Then she went for the galley, stuffing two large rucksacks full of food that would last. And when she heard the fight finally starting to let up, she was already dropping back into the long boat and rowing away from the raided boat, the only sign she was ever there were the three bodies and the message on Hook's door.
When Hook finally made it back to the shore - covered in dirt and leaves and sporting several new cuts - he realized two things immediately:
One, his longboats were gone.
And two, so was his damn prisoner.
He bellowed a furious string of curses at the empty beach.
But when he finally got back to his ship hours later - rowing one of Pan's stolen boats with a seething rage burning through him - it only got worse.
Bodies had been dumped overboard. Food was missing from the galley. His cabin had been raided.
And above all? There was blood on his door. A message left just for him.
NEVER TURN YOUR BACK ON A KYBER
His fingers curled into fists as he read it again and again, fury like nothing else boiling under skin.
He had never been humiliated like this before...
And yet... there was something else simmering beneath that anger now too...
Admiration.
The more he thought about the words written on his door, the more they rankled in his mind.
Never turn your back on a Kyber.
Something about the way she'd left the message... so confident, so bold... made his gut clench with something almost like respect.
No one had dared to defy him like that before, and he couldn't deny that it was almost refreshing. A part of him was suddenly impressed.
Damn the little bird. This wasn't over yet.
Raven hadn't managed to get far. Neverland seemed to pull her back no matter how far she rowed. Like the story only had so much ocean. For weeks, she would try only to end up back on the same shoes.
The factions of the island were in a constant state of war. Pan, the pirates, the native tribe, all fighting over the island. Finally, she realized that she couldn't leave the fucking island at all without the same thing that everyone else used to leave.
Pixie dust.
So, she set a trap. Tinker Bell was off limits, but she knew the lore of Neverland like the back of her hand and it wasn't long until she found the magic tree that was the center of Pixie Hollow. Mother Dove's nest was nestled in the upper branches, but Raven wouldn't disturb her. That nest and egg was the only thing keeping the magic of the island alive.
No, she needed a fairy.
So she sat. And observed. The twinkling lights of the fairies were easier to distinguish after some time and patience, and eventually she was able to see the fairies as well. And she started checking names off her list.
There was Tinker Bell the tinker. There was Rani the water fairy. There was Beck the animal talent fairy. Vidia the fast flying fairy.
And there, Terence. The Fairy Dust fairy. She remembered him from the books. So she tailed him across Pixie hollow, pretending that she couldn't see the tiny fairies and that she was just lost. The fairies didn't mind her presence so long as she didn't hurt anything. She was just a girl, after all.
But that night, when they had all gone to bed, Raven found the Pixie Dust production mill and she broke the back wall of the tiny building open to fill a sack the size of her fist with the magic dust.
"Sorry, little guys," she whispered. "I need to go home."
And then she was gone, back to her boat, and rowing out to sea yet again, this time with a bag of magic in tow.
It wasn't possible.
He had been looking for her everywhere.
His men had turned Neverland and the other realms on their side upside down. He'd had them combing every island, every cave, every damn tree, for any sign of his little bird.
And every time she was nowhere to be found. It was like she'd vanished from the face of the earth...
He prowled the deck late one night, too irritated to sleep, when he heard the sound of voices. His head whipped around at the sound.
The voices grew louder - fairies, all of them in a frenzy.
"What do you mean the dust is gone?!" a tiny voice shrieked.
Hook froze mid-step, his sharp ears picking up on every word. Something about stolen pixie dust... someone breaking into their mill...
His lips curled into a slow smirk as realization dawned.
Oh. So that was her plan, was it? Clever little bird.
He turned to his men with a dark grin. "Set sail at once," he commanded. "We're following the fairy trail."
She wasn't escaping him again so easily this time - not when he knew exactly where she was headed now.
And this time? He wouldn't let her slip through his fingers so easily.
Raven made it to the edge of the ocean, just outside the reefs of the island.
With a breath, she opened the bag of pixie dust, staring in at the glowing gold dust.
"You better fucking work," she told the dust sharply before taking just a pinch and sprinkling it on the boat.
It wasn't hard to follow the trail of pixie dust - it glittered and twinkled through the night sky like a path of stars.
Hook was at the wheel, his eyes locked on that magical light with laser focus.
"Faster," he commanded his men. "Follow that damn dust. She won't escape us a second time!"
Raven waited. All the dust seemed to do was make her boat glow.
She frowned.
"The fuck do you need to fly?" she muttered, looking down at the dust again. "All you need is pixie dust and happy thoughts, right? Here's a happy thought! Home!"
She tried using more dust, but her hand froze. The Jolly Roger loomed in the distance, at full sail. Right toward her.
"Oh shit," Raven hissed, grabbing the oars and rowing as hard as she could away from the island, praying the dust would be enough to break the barrier.
A slow grin spread across Hook's face as he saw her boat, glittering faintly in the night.
"There she is," he growled. "No use running now, little bird. We've got you now."
His men cheered in triumph, and one cried, "Shall we open fire, Captain?!"
Hook's eyes gleamed in the darkness. "No, you fool," he spat, not taking his gaze off the sight of her boat. "I want her alive."
Raven cursed, watching the ship get closer. She couldn't use Pan as a distraction this time, she was too far from shore to hear a caw.
The dust seemed to be working a little bit as she wasn't just getting sucked back to shore like last time, but she wouldn't be able to outpace a full ship in her longboat.
"Ya know what?" she huffed, pulling in her oars and standing. "Screw this."
Raven shoved her hand into the bag of pixie dust and grabbed a handful, dropping it on her own head.
"Happy fucking thoughts."
The dust glittered around her, sparkling like golden fireflies in the night.
Hook’s smirk dropped instantly as he watched her begin to lift off the boat.
"No!" he roared, lunging forward as though he could reach across the waves and grab her himself. "After her! NOW!"
But it was too late - she was already rising higher into the air, higher than his ship could chase.
And she was laughing. The sound of it made his blood boil hotter than ever before.
"You haven't seen the last of me, little bird!" He shouted up at her retreating figure through gritted teeth. "I promise you that."
"Good luck finding me in London, Hook!" she yelled back to him. "You're just a story! You'll never find me!"
Raven looped in the air, laughing raucously.
"So long, bitches!"
And then she was flying straight up, toward that goddamn star that taunted her, eyes watering with the speed.
Home.
He watched her disappear into the night sky, too stunned to do more than growl in pure outrage.
"A story?" he growled at himself, his blood boiling hotter than ever. "Never find her?!"
He clenched his hands into fists with a guttural sound. "Like hell I won't."
He'd go to London himself. He'd tear the entire damn city apart if that's what it took to find her. She was his. She belonged to him.