He Is Very Polite

wild child, i want you.

playlist | series masterlist

premise: coming back to hawkins for your summer vacation from college is the last thing you want to do, but you find yourself back in your hometown and it all goes to shit in a matter of weeks. thinking your summer is already a bummer, getting high with the town outcast doesn't seem like that bad of an idea.

pairing: eddie munson x richgirl!reader

word count: 6.2k

warnings: eighteen+ content, blowjob (eddie’s first one, he’s a lil virgin in this sorry y’all), drug use, cheesy flirting, past crush unmentioned but there, tiny bit of praise kink, i made eddie’s van cooler than it actually is, reader is a lil self absorbed but it’s ok, mentions of past bullying, class difference, and shit family dynamics.

etc: i may write a part two for this, may turn it into a little mini series depending on the love i get on it. but um this boy is the cutest little virgin and no one can convince me otherwise ok thnx. title from the song wild child by wasp aka a song on this verysexy playlist!

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

“Shit! Fuck!”

The sounds of aggravation that erupts from your throat are anything but ladylike. The moon shining down just right in the sky to show the hunk of mud that’s now stuck on the top of your red pumps. Pumps that cost too much to be covered in dirt and grime, and yet here they were. Ruined.

All because you had stormed off from the party taking place in the backyard of your long term boyfriend—who was now your ex because fuck him, and fuck this washed up town.

You knew agreeing to come back for the summer would be absolutely detrimental to your psyche. Missing out on what would have been the summer of your life alongside college friends, a new city, on boats, planes; anywhere better than Hawkins!

But being the amazing, doting girlfriend you were, you had been easily convinced by the promise of gifts, booze, and a hell of a summer.

Two weeks in and you were miserable, had ruined Louis Vuitton’s, barely tipsy off of cheap beer, and now newly single.

“Fuck this place!” You scream to yourself, louder than you should have in a not–disturbing–the–peace way, a dog barking in the distance. You needed to catch the first bus out of this dump of a town as soon as possible.

“I completely agree,” comes a voice to the side of you. If the pumping of anger and spite wasn’t making your heart boom in your ear drums right now, or the distraction of materialistic items didn’t have you fuming: you were sure you might have seen them, whoever they are. Or at least smelled them. The heavy scent of weed lingers in the air and you can only assume it’s the weed guy your ex-boyfriend had been talking about.

You weren’t in the mood to deal with anyone else tonight, let alone some stoned out stranger whose opinion you didn’t ask for, or could fake care about.

Turning in their direction you plan on telling them as much, plan on giving them your best bitchy scowl. But when your eyes adjust, actually see who it is; take in the long hair, the mix of jean and leather, the rings that gleam in the moonlight. Your expression changes from annoyance to amusement, your rude rebuttal long forgotten.

“Munson?”

“In the flesh,” his smile is still as boyish as you remember. At least from what you can remember. You graduated two years ago, he didn’t. Either year, so you've heard.

The two of you hadn’t been friends, barely acquaintances. You had a handful of classes with him, even got partnered up with him for one biology project that neither of you truly put the effort into. But you flashed your pretty smile and batted your eyes and got the both of you passing grades—thank god for creepy male teachers.

You and Munson, Eddie, were so far off of the spectrum of being in each other’s realms. The class difference not being the only thing setting you two on two different sides of the universe, let alone Hawkins and your group of friends. The many taunts from your boyfriend and his friends coming back to your mind, and the weird snarkiness Eddie would always fight back with. Unbothered by the stupidity of high school taunts.

“Graduate yet?” You give him a playful smile, lean up against the car behind you to attempt and scrape off the mud on your shoe with your thumb nail.

“No.” He crosses his hands over his chest, “but still keeping up with expectations.” You’re barely listening to him, frowning down at the dirt now caked under your perfectly polished nails, fuck.

You huff out a breath, pull your head back to look up at the night sky. Try to do those breathing exercises you see your mother do when a bird shits on her BMW. “You here for the party?” You both know you’re joking. Know that most, if not all, the rich kids here had once—or still do—rag on him.

“My services got the invite.” He clarifies, “not me, personally, for obvious reasons.” He mumbles that last part and it makes you chuckle under your breath.

“Still the weed guy, huh?” Pulling your head upright again, you look over at him. His response being holding his hands in the air in an ‘obviously’ type motion. Nothing has changed with him, and maybe that’s just what happens when you stay in this dead end town. But something also tells you that Eddie isn’t the type to just change. What you see is what you get, unapologetically.

Must be nice to be that carefree. You could use some carefree in your life; that booming sound of your heart in your ear still pumping with materialistic and asshole boyfriend frustration.

A smile spreads across your lips as an idea pops into your head. As you make the decision to get that carefree feeling in the most synthetic way possible, while also sticking it to the aforementioned asshole in the backyard.

“How much were they going to pay you?”

“For the-”

“Yes, the weed, Munson. How much.” You roll your eyes, that old high school queen bee tone coming back. Making even your own self wince, but who knows when—or if—the smell of weed had already wafted off of Eddie and traveled to the backyard and the two of you were soon to be joined by the rest of the party.

Fuck them.

“Thirty.”

Reaching into your bra, the low cut material of your dress having the perfect swoop to showcase just enough to keep the mystery, but add to the intrigue—helping to house your money snuggly in the cup of your bra; you pull out the folded cash your father had handed to you on your way out of the door.

“I have fifty here.” You hold it out between your forefinger and middle, “it’s yours but we have to leave right now.”

He looks a little surprised, his eyes flash from your chest to the money in your hand.

“You have a car don’t you?” You look around the dead street, try to remember what hunk of junk you may have seen him driving around when you were in school.

“Is the money for the ride or the weed?”

“Both.”

Eddie hums, “seems a bit low.” He crosses his arms, scratches his cheek. Starting up a slow pace as he speaks, “I mean I am risking getting caught with a distinguished lady such as yourself. From what I hear you’re still with your Princeton lover. Don’t know if I need him thinking I’ve stolen you away.”

You think he’s half serious for a second. The look of quarry on his face, but then you see his smile. See that boyish amusement again, it makes the corners of your lips tick up in amusement; contagious. Something you remember from bombing biology together. As much as you wanted to dislike him, ignore him, or push the assignment completely onto him, he had distracted you with weird facts about his band you were not interested in—and the other random nonsense that would slip out always made you roll your eyes and hide the contagiousness of his smile that spread across your face.

But you find yourself holding onto the knowledge that he knew about you and your ex. Don’t know why it’s the only retaining thing your mind seems to keep flashing on, it didn’t matter to you who still talked about you in Hawkins. Especially when you were certain it was out of pure jealousy for you getting out and them not.

You can’t see Eddie contributing in gossip, though. Maybe that’s why you’re holding onto the knowledge that he knows, remembers. Still hates the asshole. Much like you do.

“We broke up.” You state, make clear with a wide smile that you’re more than happy about it. His lips tug up more, stops in his tracks and leans back on his heels a little as he stares at you. The two of you sharing some silent moment before you laugh, “are you going to be my kidnapper or what, Munson?”

He smirks, grabs the money still between your fingers. Nods his head back to the van at the end of the driveway—that only makes sense is his, because of course it is.

“America's Most Wanted here I come!” He hollers a little too loudly, making you laugh.

“Sorry about the mess.” Eddie maneuvers around you, picks up some of the random garbage and clothes strewn at your feet and throws them in the front.

You’re sat on the small couch he has in the back of his van. The velvet from the cushions softer than you expect it to be on the back of your bare legs. Expecting it to feel grimy at the very least, and maybe that’s not fair of you to expect—or think.

You’re surprised at how unfazed you feel about the random things contributing to the mess back here. Finding yourself actually smiling at the makeshift lights he has hung up, how they cast a red glow and illuminate the posters he has tapped with that thick grey tape you know is going to rip off the paint if he was to ever remove it.

The atmosphere oddly calming, compared to what you are used to.

He pulls out a tape from the glove compartment and slips it into the stereo, a heavy metal track playing low through the speakers, the bass deep enough to rock the van.

You’re parked behind his trailer.

When he had pulled up to it and pulled around the back you were once again reminded just how different your lives really were. Had found yourself scrunching up your nose at the drab looking mobile home. Regretting it the minute Eddie caught you and gave a pressed lipped grin, “can’t build mansions this far out. Grounds too mushy.” He joked, but it only made you feel worse.

Why, you have no idea. It wasn’t your fault you were born with a silver spoon and he was born without one. Neither was a bad thing. He seemed more than happy with his life—knowing what you did about him, that carefree way about him—than you did with your own, it would seem.

The cushions bounce from the way he plops down beside you. Pulling a metal lunchbox out of nowhere and placing it in his lap, “who knew the Princess of Hawkins, knew how to be bad.”

You make a face, “people don’t really call me that do they?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh how clueless the other half live.”

“I can still take back the money, you know.”

“Ooh, not twenty of it, at least.” He clicks his tongue, opens the metal box. The waft of weed stronger, making your nose burn. “Gotta keep that half for risking my life, it’s only fair.”

“You are the chattiest drug dealer I’ve ever met.”

“You meet a lot of them, do ya?” You can see countless baggies of whatever he’s pushing to the side, a lighter, more random junk, and then he’s pulling out a small bag of weed. “You really are bad, Princess,” he smiles.

You have to look away from him, have to hide the cheesy smile that moves across your own face—because it’s annoyingly warm in here, and you are here to escape and get high not become best buds with him. “Just roll it, Munson.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

This wasn’t your first time smoking. You had dabbled in weed at parties since your sophomore year. Had taken part with it at the handful of college parties you had been to. You were used to the light feeling, the cravings, the giggles. Or so you thought.

Maybe you just hadn’t been smoking the right stuff. Maybe it had been the liquor you had always paired with it, the buzz you thought you felt from what you smoked actually from the malt and not the shit weed.

Because you’ve never felt this good before. Not from weed. Liquor. Even around your friends.

You felt so good right now.

Your cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling so much, can’t remember when you had dropped yourself onto the floor of Eddie’s van. Your heels kicked off and feet propped up on the cushions of the sofa—right next to Munson.

He’s not as spread out as you though, maybe a little more lax. His back slouched lower on the sofa, legs spread further apart. Jacket gone, black sleeves rolled up.

Has he always had that tattoo? Just how many rings does one guy need? Your heavy lids ache as you hyperfocus in on the bracelet on his wrist, the tattoo on his arm. Each one of his rings that don’t even budge as his fingers flex, as he uses the small pocket knife he had pulled out from his back pocket; grabbing your discarded heels to scrape the mud from them.

“You really don’t have to do that,” you giggle. “My dad will just buy me another pair.”

A smile spreads, “but you were so upset about them. Even I winced when I saw the mud pile you stepped in, nightmarish.”

He laughs along with you as you completely lose it, “how shitty is it that that is a nightmare to me? Ruined Louis Vuitton‘s.”

Eddie shakes his head, holds up the shoes. Now cleaner than before, way too clean for him to have just used the pocket knife. The bottle of water between his legs spotted upon further inspection, where did that come from?

“We all have expensive things in our lives we don’t want ruined. Shoes, guitars, people.” He shrugs, “not shitty at all. But this clean job might be.” He chews on his lower lip.

You maneuver yourself so you’re not flashing him from the bottom of your dress, as you move your legs from the couch to sit up. Grabbing the red pumps from him to do your best look over, ignoring the burn your eyes give when you widen them.

“Munson, I think you’re in the wrong career.” You tease, smiling up at him. You’re sat in front of his open legs, have the perfect view of that boyish grin.

“Shoe shiner?” He acts bashful, swings his hand around batting the air. “I’m not that good.”

“Think once you graduate you gotta start your own business, ‘Eddie’s Spit n Shine.’” You joke, the both of you doubling over in laughter. Munson holding onto his stomach as he slaps a hand over his knee.

Once your giggles have died down and you can hold yourself up straight, you watch him. Watch the way his cheeks are redder, watch the way he moves some hair out of his face. His previous words of “but you were so upset about them” and “we all have expensive things in our lives we don’t want ruined”. If this had been anyone else, one of your friends, your boyfriend, they would of been just as grumbly about the heels as you. Would have told you to trash them and offer to take you to the strip mall the next day to help you spend more of your fathers money; no big deal.

They wouldn’t have offered to fix them. To do something as simple as what Eddie had done.

And yeah, they were just shoes, and it wasn’t that big of a deal. But something fuzzy was settling in your chest, something in your stomach fluttering like it very much was a big deal.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You ask without thinking. Set your shoes down beside the couch, lay yourself back on the cool floor of the van.

“What?” He chuckles lowly with a hint of confusion. Just as surprised as you are at the question.

“Why are you being so nice to me, Munson.” You chew the corner of your cheek, look up at him. “Not like we were friends, ever, in school. And I remember plenty of times where my friends weren’t the nicest.”

“The rich kids not being nice to anyone who doesn’t drive a Mercedes? Shocking.” He jokes, makes you laugh.

“I’m serious.” You tap his knee that’s peeking out of one of the rips in his jeans with the tip of your finger. “Why are you being so nice?”

His face grows serious, but there’s still a hint of a soft smile there as he leans over to dig in the metal lunchbox again. Pulls out the spliff he rolled earlier alongside the one the two of you already smoked. You watch as his fingers run along it, “your friends may have not been the nicest, especially that lover boy of yours.” He gives you a playful roll of the eyes at the mention, that ache in your cheeks continuing. “But, you were always nice to me.”

“I never stopped them though. From being cruel.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, grabs the lighter resting beside your feet. “You made up for it by helping me not fail biology, for once.”

Your face contorts as you laugh, “put my tits on the line for that grade.”

Eddie chokes out a howl, stops what he’s doing to double over again. “Never been more happy for the power of tits.”

Your throat hurts from how hard you’re laughing. Holding your hand up in front of him in a high-five invite, “to tits!”

“To tits!” He slaps his palm against yours as he holds up the blunt in the other one in a show of salute.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed this hard. Or felt this good. This happy. This playful. This whatever-the-hell-that fluttering feeling was in your stomach. You don’t know where Munson got his stash but damn was it good.

And damn was he cute.

Wait—what?

You quickly avert your eyes from him. Look up at the roof of the van, try to focus on the posters and scattered glow in the dark stars up there. You did not find Eddie Munson cute. You were just severely high right now, and still reeling off of your incredibly fresh break up. That’s all.

You hear the flick of the lighter beside you, hear him take a long puff. Fill his lungs, hold and blow it out, before you see him hold it out for you. Taking it silently, not looking at him—you probably shouldn’t have anymore, not with how you are thinking right now. But you didn’t feel like going back to your parents house. Calling it a night right now didn’t feel right, and it’s not like Eddie was rushing you out of the van.

So you press the blunt to your lips and decide to stop thinking. Just smoke. Listen to the beat of the metal still coming from the speakers.

“Lover boy must have done something tremendously fucked, huh?” He gives you a somber smile when you turn and pass the smoke to him.

“Munson, are you trying to gossip right now? Like we are two catty friends?”

He chuckles, inhales. “Us friends?” He makes a face, smoke rolling out of his mouth. “That’s obscene.”

“Nightmarish.”

“Grotesque.” He puts a hand to his heart, “what would the moms at the country club say?”

You laugh. “I don’t think either of my parents own a gun, so you're safe there. And my mother barely notices me,” you confess. Regret it when you look over at him and see the sympathy on his expression. “Please don’t.” You groan, take your turn to smoke, holding it between your thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t?”

“Give me that look.”

“What look?”

“Like you feel bad for me.” The laugh you let out this time is anything but humorous. There’s no joy. Just a salted down wound that you don’t let anyone see—so you don’t know why you’re talking about it right now—that burns the back of your throat. “I have everything.” You mumble, “perfect life. Perfect future ahead of me, money, the car, the friends, the boyfriend. No one should feel bad for me.”

You’re staring up at the roof again as you hold out your hand to give the blunt back without looking at him. Without acknowledging your own words with anything more than woeful self pitying. Eddie wasn’t interested in hearing about a rich girls problems and you had no interest sharing them. Anymore.

A silence settles between the two of you, it’s awkward and filled with the silently passing of the smoke between you; puffs of air, breaths in. Your heart is beating in your ears again. Except this time it’s something close to embarrassment and not anger.

“It wasn’t pity.” He breaks the silence when your fingers brush against each other when it’s his turn to hit. Your eyes finally finding their way back over to him, “how could someone not notice you?” There’s a twitch in his lips.

And fuck are your eyes burning from how high you are right now or because that was teeth rottingly sweet, and your chest is feeling fuzzy again—and Eddie Munson has some pretty eyes. Fuck.

“With the hair alone,” he waves his hand around emphasizing the top of your head. “Kind of hard to miss ya.” That boyish smile coming back when you start to laugh and lean up to swat him.

“I want my money back, Munson!”

“You’ve already smoked the weed!”

“Pain and suffering!”

“Mine or yours?” He jokes and he’s putting out the rest of the blunt to hold his hands out in surrender, as you lean up on your knees to playfully swat at the side of his arm.

“And here I thought we were actually having a moment.” You scowl at him, “you can take the high school out of the boy but not the—wait—you can’t even do that.”

His jaw drops, looking fake wounded if the big grin on his face is any indication of its falsehood. “The Princess of Hawkins has some bite.”

“I’m not the Princess of Hawkins!” You roll your eyes, “I’m just me–”

“Perfect,” Eddie finishes, adds. His lips come together, he swallows. “Perfect–you.”

You make a face at him. Another childish playful insult on the tip of your tongue but swallowed down, your throat feeling drier than ever as he stares down at you with a type of fondness that has your mind thinking—and feeling—way too many things right now.

And it feels like the moment slows, time stops. You take in everything, really take it in. You on your knees in front of his open legs, your palms on the cut out parts of his jeans that showcase his knees. The fuzziness in your chest turning into something else, something racing and filled with heat. Something that should surely not be there—all from what? Meaningless flirting? Eddie jesting with you?

Weed was definitely not a good idea. You should of just went home. Should ask him to take you home right now before your haze filled mind has you thinking of doing something else you definitely shouldn’t do.

Like move forward. Your knees dragging across the floor until the tops of them are pressed to the bottom of the couch. Until there’s no space left between you and Eddie’s thighs flush against the sides of your arms, his groin inches from your face. Your palms now higher up on his thigh.

You can feel how tense he is right now. Watched his expression go from softness to rigid with nerves. And maybe you are the only one who’s been feeling something tonight. Maybe he can handle his weed better than you. Or is simply not interested in you whatsoever. All his mindless flirting just that: mindless.

But you can’t help but want to test the waters. To see if any of those things are actually true.

Leaning up, your palms digging into the meat of his thigh as you do, your eyes moving from his to his lips and back up. A hint he seems to get when he meets you halfway and your lips are being pressed together in a gentle kiss.

It’s slow at first, curious, new to the both of you. Sloppy, and you can feel Eddie’s hand twitch at his side until he loses whatever fight in his head that has him holding back, and then it’s at your cheek and his thumb is digging into your chin the deeper the kiss gets. The more the two of you learn each other’s mouths. Which way to turn your head, that slow timid way his tongue pokes at your lips and then finds its way into your mouth; the quietest of noises coming from his throat when his tongue rubs against yours.

A noise that makes your stomach flutter. Makes an ache start between your legs.

Have you ever been kissed like this? Have you ever felt like the other person was learning you from the inside out? Memorizing how your lips moved, felt, tasted. The way your own deep rooted noise slips out and vibrates against his lips when his other hand comes to the other side of your head and pulls you so close to him as he leans further down into you. The top of your cleavage rubbing against the material of his shirt, tickled by his hair.

When the two of you finally pull apart, your eyes feel heavier than ever. Feel like all your energy went into that kiss and you feel buzzed. Like you’re on cloud nine. Like you’ve never felt better, as the two of you pant. Try to catch your breaths.

Feeling Eddie’s thumb nail running along your bottom lip you look up to his eyes, see they’re on your lips. His brows pulled together.

“Munson.” You don’t mean for it to sound like a whine. It’s not. You’re not whining right now, you’re just…feeling things and really high and maybe you can’t remember anyone you’ve been with ever touching you like this. And he’s barely touching you.

You may not have thought it to be a whine, but Eddie does. The look in his eyes as they finally meet yours has you floored. Has you seeing a want in a pair of eyes you don’t think you’ve seen before—know you haven’t; needy, nervous because of that need.

And when your palm moves of its own accord higher up and over until you feel a bulge in his tight jeans, the intake of breath he does. The slight droop of his eyes. All the decision you need to act on whatever these feelings are.

There’s disappointment in his eyes when you pull away from him, just enough to have his hands drop from your face and yours finding the top of his pants to open them up and fumble with the zipper.

“Whoa,” a nervous chuckle, then his hands wrapping around your wrists to stop you. “Whoa,” he says again. His breath still heavy. “What–should we–you,” he stammers.

It’s a bit cute, but it also has your cheeks burning in embarrassment. Shit. Have you completely misread this? Maybe he just wanted to kiss. You were fine with just kissing, if it was going to be like that everytime. But there’s an ache, a want, to hear that noise again. The one he had made in the back of his throat. To see the impressive bulge that your fingertips had touched.

“Do you,” you pull your hands back, take them from his hold and chew on your lip, “not want to do this? More..” you trail off. You can’t imagine what you were coming off as right now. Have you ever been rejected? Tonight was clearly the night of firsts for you.

“I,” Munson shakes his head, and your stomach sinks. Face falls. But then he’s shaking his head more aggressively, “no, that’s not,” he sighs. Takes a breath to ground himself, his hands coming to hold the tops of your shoulders. His expression serious, “Yes. I want to do this. I just…I’ve–never thought this would be happening and that I would be admitting to it in a situation, let alone this one–“

And then it clicks.

“Munson.” A slow smile snakes its way across your lips, “are you a virgin?”

His leg bounces, teeth chewing at the corner of his mouth. “Yes.”

“Just to be clear I mean sex, you’ve never had sex?”

“Yes.”

“But you’ve done..other stuff, right?”

Silence for a beat and then he’s shaking his head. You try and fail to hide the surprise on your face, “I should take this as a compliment. Your utter shock.” You can see the blush that is growing up his neck and over his already red cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” Your smile falters for a second, “I just thought with that kiss, you had done something before.” You can’t help but look down at his parted lips, yours still tingling from them. “It was..”

“Perfect.”

That word again. Hits you the same way it had before. Has the both of you staring at each other’s mouths until you’re kissing again. This time faster, harder, the passion seeping from the want and morphing into something that now has you completely on fire. Engulfed by Eddie. Your fingers are in his hair. His hands cradling your face like it’s so fucking fragile.

“Can I taste you?” You’re panting against his mouth, running your hands down his chest back to the top of his pants that are still undone. Open enough that you can push your hand in them and move your fingertips against the top of his shaft. That same noise he did earlier coming out as a puff against your parted mouth.

He nods, “yes.” It sounds so soft and filled with need. He presses one more kiss to your lips before he’s slowly pushing himself back, giving you room and helping you maneuver his pants and boxers down his thighs. Just enough to spring his cock free.

It’s bigger than you imagined it would be—never imagined it to be. But, fuck. How has he not done anything when he kisses like that? When he’s so funny, cute, and nice, and his cock is so thick.

Your jaw aches just staring at it. Tongue coming out to wet your lips as you wrap a hand around the base of him, have to hold back the sound you want to make from the sound he makes; a shallow breath let out, just below a whimper. His hips already jerking involuntarily up, precum at his tip.

“Are you sure? You’re not like…just super high–“

“I am super high, Munson.” You smile sweetly and it makes him do the same. A low laugh covered up by you leaning in to press your lips to his, “and yes, I’m sure. Incredibly.” You hope your own look of want for him comes across clearly, not only in your words but with the way your hand starts to move on his shaft, and the way you run your tongue along his bottom lip.

A breathy, “fuck, oh-kay” slipping out from him.

It’s all the consent you need, the push to have you leaning down to run the flat of your tongue across his leaking tip. The hiss of pleasure he lets out only a prelude to the whimpers and gasps he makes when you let your tongue explore along his length, pumping and sucking with your mouth along a thick vein that runs up the side of his cock. Your thumb rubbing a slow circle behind the head of it, making his hips buck and legs tense around you.

And when you finally put him in your mouth, finally swallow down the already there taste of him on your tongue—you both let out a moan. Can feel the top half of him shift like his head has fallen back, an image of his beautifully parted mouth hung open, eyes screwed shut in pleasure has you moaning against him again; your body on fire, your pussy aching.

You match the pumps of your hand with the drag of your mouth up and down his dick. Swirl your tongue around the head and suck when you reach it. Let yourself go as far as your gag reflex will let you until you’re gagging around him and Eddie is cursing and digging his nails into the cushion of the couch.

You completely expect to feel his hand on your head, to be pushing or pulling your hair to guide you. Even fucking up into your mouth. When you’ve done this for other guys they were nothing less than over aggressive about it. So when it doesn’t happen part of you thinks he’s not enjoying it; a thought that’s quickly debunked by the grunts and shaky breaths coming from above you.

And when you steal a glance to the side you can see how red his knuckles look from the death grip he has the cushion in. How his fingers twitch and hand runs along his thigh, acting as if he wants to touch you but not daring to. You steal another glance up at him, “oh, ohmygod” tumbling from his lips when your eyes meet; he looks so desperate right now. So flushed and pretty.

You pull your mouth from him, let your lips press the tiniest of kisses to the tip that makes his hips gyrate, chasing your mouth. “You can touch me, Munson.”

“Where?” He asks shakily.

“Wherever you want.” You reach for his hand and press it to your cheek, “here, so you can feel yourself inside of me.” He whimpers, you smile. “Or here,” you run his hand down your neck, raise your brows to note that area being an option before you descend further. Until you reach the top of your cleavage, “to tits.” You say playfully and it has a deep chuckle scrunching his eyes. “Okay?”

He hums, nods. “Okay.”

And then your mouth is on him again, his tantalizing noises back and making your thighs press closer together. Making you encourage the small thrusts of his hips up into your mouth. Drool slipping down your chin when your own whimper is dredged up from the back of your throat when you feel the pad of his thumb run along your hard nipple; before his palm squeezes and massages your boob in a way that makes you move your body further into his.

The pleasure you’re giving him being handed back to you with the same energy of want and need, and it has you shellshocked. Has your body working overtime with heat, arousal, and wanting to please him. Wanting to hear more of those groans. To feel the head of his cock nudge the back of your throat and his “holy shit, that feels so good” when your throat spasms around him.

If you knew sucking Eddie Munson’s dick was this fun you would of done it years ago.

Why hadn’t you seen him before this night? Why did it take weed and giggles and flirting that turned you on more than you want to admit—to really see him. And why did the thought of not being able to look away from him again, to go back to not seeing him, something that was inevitable: make fear take root in your chest?

His hand has moved to hover over your head, his rings adding more pressure to the back of your skull than his actual fingers do. “You’re so perfect,” he whimpers. Pushes his hips up into your mouth, pulling your lips further down his throbbing shaft. “Perfect.” He repeats, your stomach flutters and flops and you preen around him. His breaths get deeper, hips moving more frequently, fingers flexing in your hair. He’s close, so so close.

And if you thought the noises he was making before were beautiful, the whine he lets out when he says, “I’m going to come, can I–oh fuck–can I do it in your mouth?” Makes your eyes roll back, your head nodding in approval and then you can feel him leaning back; a loud moan coming from his mouth, his fingers gripping the hair on top of your head as he comes against your tongue. The searing heat from it like a salve to the ache in your throat.

You swallow him down. Let your tongue lap at the droplets left on his tip as you suck him into your mouth one last time before he’s letting out a hiss of over sensitivity.

He tastes just as lovely as he looks right now. Completely flushed, eyes red and heavy. One corner of his mouth ticked up in a soft smile.

“Did I hurt you?”

“What?”

“Your hair,” his fingers rub at the back of your skull gently. “I’m sorry if I pulled too hard,” the softness of his words has your chest feeling heavy. Those feelings back, your arousal under shadowed.

“No,” you shake your head. Pull his hand from the back of your head, don’t know why, but you let your lips skate across his rings as you kiss his fingers. “It was perfect.”

His mouth pulls into that boyish grin, for the millionth time tonight. “It was.”

Maybe your summer won’t be so boring after all.

[JDVN] Random Headcanons

-

so i'm back and i swear i'm working on all the stuff in my inbox, but i also discovered the john doe visual novel recently and like i love him so much??? i must write for him also cause there seems to be so little written for him

warnings: doe being weird but loveable as usual, scalp gnawing???

okay so obviously this little eldritch creature thing is clingy as fuck all the time, absolutely takes being your partner as a sign that he must be at your side 25 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. i think this is expected to anyone wanting to be with doe. however, allow me to take it a step further:

mad seperation anxiety, will stand whining and clawing at the door while you piss so that he can grab onto you the second he hears the lock open

i fully think doe's music taste will give a person whiplash, he has like pitbull, weezer, crazy frog, and rammstein all in the same playlist

he rarely makes any sort of meals but when he does, they are weird. it'll either be the most vile, vomit-inducing, stomach clenching, nose covering pulsating mass of unknown substances amalgamated together like some unholy sacrifice to a god that shouldn't exist, but it'll taste absolutely heavenly. or it'll be the most beautiful, delicious looking meal that would have gordon ramsay himself falling flat on his knees and hailing it, and it'll taste like literal fucking sewer excretions. how he does it?? nobody knows

will do anything to make you happy. when i say anything i mean anything. ANYTHING.

keep this guy well away from memes, tiktok, any sort of internet humor. if he learns, you will never know peace again

on top of being afraid of water, i also think doe is afraid of vacuum cleaners, spray bottles, and occasionally when you sneeze, just like a cat. when he does, his hair stands on end and he leaps away from the offending object/noise, hissing loudly. if you scare him particularly suddenly, he'll make a very instinctive scramble to the top of the fridge (likely knocking many things over in the process, he's 5ft8 after all) and it may take a small while for him to come back down

particularly loves receiving forehead and nose kisses. they make him feel very comforted and cared for by you, in a way nobody else ever made him feel

if you ever want to pavlov him into a specific behaviour (eg, cleaning up after himself when he's at your apartment), it is very much possible and he will be particularly responsive to sour gummy worms as a treat

speaking of your apartment, he takes it as an absolute milestone in your relationship if you allow him to have some of his stuff stay in your apartment permanently, eg some clothes, his favourite blanket, his 'special occasion cutlery' (its a set of hello kitty plastic childrens cutlery, the print has halfway faded and the white parts have yellowed but you've never seen anyone look so vulnerable when they offered a plastic knife and fork to you, so now it stays in your cutlery drawer and doe grins and giggles happily everytime he sees it in there)

you may catch him trying to chew on your hair sometimes, while its still attached to you. unless you don't have hair, in which case he will simply gnaw on your scalp out of the blue. its a love language

okay that's all for now, hope you enjoyed, and if you guys wanna see some nsfw headcanons of doe i can absolutely arrange that <3

As a girl or woman, raise yourself to be an intellectual. Raise yourself to be a reader, a traveller, a curious explorer. Raise girls who are independent livers and thinkers, who are critical of standard narratives and status quos and societal and religious dogma. Girls and women will never benefit from being naïve, stuck in one place, unaware, ignorant, out of options, close minded etc besides deriving from these states a false sense of safety, but the patriarchy reaps massive profits from afflicting these conditions.

in which: bakugou only shows his dimples around you

sfw, fluff, dialogue heavy, humour, this is a quick drabble i whipped up from an idea i created ages ago bc my 8k word bkg fic WON'T POST AGHHH!

"i love dimples, they're so cute!" mina squeals from beside you whilst you were hunched over the dorm's coffee table, finishing outstanding calculus questions you hadn't completed during class.

"me too," you absentmindedly murmur, reaching for your calculator to input a definite integral. "people say that they are kisses from angels, as if that isn't the cutest thing ever."

the pink-haired wails, "stop it! i wish i had dimples."

"if you try hard enough, then maybe," you snort before turning the page of your maths textbook. "i remember people would press pencils to their cheeks to make it appear. it would work for like five minutes."

"well, duh they're not gonna be permanent, i'm not that stupid."

"you always ask me what two plus five is."

"uncalled for, that's not the same!" mina slaps the back of your head, causing you to hold it whilst hissing in pain.

"okay, i'm sorry!" you exclaim, shielding yourself in case she hits you again.

thankfully, mina is pacified again, returning her chin to her palm as she fiddles with her nails. she remains quiet for a few minutes, allowing you to concentrate on your work before she pipes up again. "jirou has cute dimples."

you hum in agreement. "yaomomo too, on both cheeks," you add.

"kaminari too!"

"and bakugou."

mina darts up, back now as straight as a pole as she gawks at you with the weirdest expression. did you grow two heads or something? what was so weird about bakugou having dimples?

"no he does not!" counters mina.

"he does! on his right cheek!" you even point to it for good measure. "surprised me too when i saw it for the first time but it's actually really prominent! i don't know how we never noticed it before."

"you're lying to me. bakugou katsuki could never have dimples, he's too evil for that."

"he's not that evil."

"are we talking to the same bakugou? he threatened to blow me up the other day."

you laugh at the memory, an action mina doesn't appreciate. "i was there for that. anyways. his dimple is just something he's born with, it's not ordained by personality, what's the big deal?"

"what part of bakugou being too evil to have something as pure as a dimple do you not understand?"

your homework now lays unfinished and forgotten as you begin having a quarrel about your classmate and the mystery surrounding a feature that was given to him from birth. the blond shows it quite often, how come mina's not seeing it?

she then begins pulling up numerous photos and selfies; none of which have the evidence of bakugou's dimples. you furrow your brows in confusion, swiping through and zooming in to no avail of finding any remnants of a dimple.

strange.

you know you can't be imagining this.

"yo mina, y/n!" a deep, raspy voice comes from the entrance of the common room. you both turn around in shock to see your fellow red-haired classmate approaching.

immediately, you turn off mina's photo to rid any evidence of your previous conversation. because wherever kirishima is, bakugou normally follows.

"i'm gonna kick your ass in mario kart!" comes an explosive voice from behind. there he was.

kirishima leans over the couch where mina was sitting on. "what are you both up to?"

"oh y/n and i were just chilling. why?"

"oh bakugou and i just wanted to play a round of mario kart, that's all! hope we're not bothering you."

you pipe up from where you were still trying to figure out maths equations, "mina talks my ear off whilst i'm trying to solve these questions. i think i'll be okay with you two."

before mina could slap the back of your head again, a shadow looms your textbook and tufts of blond hair appear in the corner of your eye.

"you got that wrong," bakugou says after not even two seconds of reading your equation.

"eyes off my book," you exclaim, about to cover the pages with your hands when the explosion-quirk user snatches it away from under you. he continues reading through it like it was some newspaper article.

he does this all with a proud smirk on his face. "question 2 wrong, question 7 wrong, question 15 wrong," rambles your classmate, ignoring the way you were demanding it back.

"i'm going to fuck you up. give me back my book."

"damn your handwriting is messy."

your punch his arm lightly. he laughs at the impact, uneffected. "yours is illegible!" you shout back, challenging him with a nasty glare.

mina and kirishima watch with amused expressions at the disputation occurring in front of them. however, the pink-haired feels the world stop for a moment when she notices something very interesting.

a dimple. on bakugou's right cheek. just like you said.

something she has never seen before.

then she notices the way he looks at you. despite teasing you and making fun of you, there's an undeniable look of fondness evident in his eyes, one that grows the more you threaten him with unspeakable acts of violence.

his smirk grows softer, becoming that of a lopsided grin when bakugou gives you your textbook, confessing that none of the questions were wrong and that he was just 'messin' around'.

as it turns out... bakugou katsuki does have dimples, but they only appear around you.

One Piece Minks/ Furries Part 2

Favorite Customer: Edward Nashton x Gn!reader

description: (based off of this concept and this concept) Eddie's picking up shifts at the diner where he's quickly gained a favorite customer who comes in without fail, every saturday. when eddie though, is the one who fails to show up one saturday, his favorite customer realizes how much they enjoy his company, so they make an effort to make sure they'll never miss eddie again.

content: crushing!!! so much crushing!! eddie has a huge crush. no real established timeline (can be pre- riddler or riddler era eddie, whatever your heart desires!), lovesirck, nervous, stuttery eddie <33 (he's too cute) this fic is pretty much pure fluff! no real warnings to be given :)

word count: 4775

a/n: i have had THE biggest diner!eddie brainrot since i started discussing the concept a few days ago... him as a shy waitier with a favorite customer who he just adores :(( TOO CUTE... so here's a short little drabble while i work on some bigger fics.

-

Edward felt his chest tighten as he looked across the crowded diner, an increased foreboding feeling filled the space between his ribs. His stomach churned with a certain disquietude while laying his eyes on the sea of people surrounding him. Chattering customers sat about, making more noise than Eddie knew how to deal with, their incessant ranting and raving filling his brain to a capacity that he could not stand. He let out a shaky exhale, desperately preparing himself for the Saturday dinner rush that had already begun.

"Nashton!" An unnecessarily loud call came from directly behind him. He tried his best not to cringe at the sound, Edward could spot the voice of his shift supervisor anywhere, he loathed the sound of her thick New Jersey accent, and shrill, scratchy tone that could only be found in a woman who's been smoking for far too long. Her rough voice alone made Edward contemplate quitting his own nicotine addiction, not wanting to end up barely over 60 and already sounding like he's decaying. But with the anxiety caused by shifts like these, he found himself desperate for a cigarette. His long fingers lightly grazed the front pocket of his work pants, making sure the half-empty package of cigarettes still remained where he left it.

Edward turned around to face the voice, looking at his supervisor with a big, lost look plastered all over his face. He did little to hide the nameless dread that swarmed every cavity of his being, his low-hanging head, and god-awful posture all alluding to his negative state of mind.

"Ya regula' is here sweetheart, table 8, go make ya-self useful it's too busy for ya to just be standin' around like that."

At the announcement of his regular being there, Edward's entire demeanor changed. Suddenly he's standing up straight, and his eyes are wide and attentive, he'd hardly even noticed his supervisor's condescending tone. An involuntary smile crept on his face and his stomach began to do loops.

"Y-yes," Edward nodded, an overwhelming excitement threatened his stuttering voice.

Edward began to make his way over to table 8, the anxieties of the crowded diner slowly drifting away as he caught a glimpse of you from across the room. You were sitting there, with a strained look on your face as you hunched over a beat-up notebook. Edward worried you'd be able to feel his eyes burning into you from how intensely he was looking in your direction, but he couldn't help himself, he was infatuated with you.

Ever since he started picking up shifts at the diner on weekends to help out with rent he'd notice you come in every Saturday. You'd always come in on your own, sometimes with textbooks, or notebooks, maybe even a computer. Over the course of weeks spent serving you, he'd come to find out that sometimes you would come to the diner to study and as the two of you grew closer he'd even on occasion helped you out with your coursework. Usually on nights where it was late, and the diner had gone nearly empty, but you and he still remained, you'd let out a frustrated sigh, and Edward would ask to take a look at your work. Edward wasn't always the greatest in school- he was smart but too miserable to ever put in enough effort to apply himself properly. But you, you gave him the boost he needed and he was more than happy to put in as much work as necessary to show you his capabilities. That being said most of the time he did understand the work you were doing, and he'd sheepishly look around the diner, making sure no one else needed his help, and once he was in the clear he'd sit next to you and try not to stutter too hard while explaining whatever concept it was to you.

Those nights were Edward's favorite. You always looked so cute with that exasperated look on your face, asking Edward for help. Edward sort of liked the feeling of someone needing his help. Even if it was just for some schoolwork.

But, regardless of whether you were studying or not, every Saturday night without fail, you'd come in completely on your own. Edward always wondered what someone like you would be doing all on your own at a cheap diner on a Saturday evening, after all, Saturdays were for having fun, right? He'd wonder if you were lonely like he was, or if you just liked to take time to yourself. Maybe spending your night surrounded by rude, rowdy strangers was your idea of a fun Saturday night.

He wondered a lot about you actually, even outside of his Saturday shifts. He thought about you often, he couldn't help himself. Your weekly appearances made the job worthwhile, your pretty smile and sweet demeanor were Edward's escape from the usual verbal abuse and beratement he suffered at the hands of most of the customers while on the job. You treated Edward like he was real, like he was a person, your quick waiter-to-patron exchanges were warmer than any of the treatment he'd ever gotten in his life thus far.

So, when Edward had fallen ill last weekend after a co-worker at his day job had come into work with a nasty cold he was absolutely devastated he'd miss his weekly encounter with you. While Edward sat home, sick, fever overcoming his body, he continued to wonder. He wondered if you even noticed that he was missing, or if you were maybe even glad he wouldn't be bothering you tonight. He worried maybe you'd like your server tonight more than you liked him, maybe you'd gotten one of his more confident, more "conventionally attractive" co-workers as your server and maybe the two of you really hit it off.

The worries plagued his aching head until a calmer, more appealing part of his consciousness took over, one that dreamed up a fantasy of you sitting alone at a booth by the window, completely on your own, unhappy with tonight's waiter, missing him. The thought of you even just recognizing Edward's absence put a smile on his face. Of course, it also made him feel a little guilty, he didn't want you to be unhappy, only, unhappy regarding the fact you weren't with him.

But now, Edward was back, and in good health once again. He wiped his clammy palms against the thick fabric of his pants. His thighs tremble under the firm touch of his hands. Something catches your attention and you suddenly drop the pencil in your hand and look up from your notebook. Your head turns to the side and all of a sudden you and Edward are making eye contact, Edward feels his body go stiff as a large smile spreads across your face.

"Eddie!" You exclaim the moment he gets within a few feet of your table. Edward feels his heart begin to beat faster as the sound of your voice. He can't help but melt every time you call him Eddie, you were the only person who'd ever called him that.

"H-hi y/n," He smiles, approaching the small table.

"I missed you last week Eddie," You lean forward against the table, resting your chin in your hand. You noticed. Edward felt his breath get caught in his throat and he had to try to think really hard for a moment about how to remember to breathe. The way you looked up at him had him in a daze, the way the soft diner light's reflected off your eyes, and how this lighting perfectly flattered your skin. Edward had never in his life gazed at something so beautiful.

"Oh-oh yeah, someone at my other job got me sick so I couldn't come in."

"Aww, my poor Eddie." You whine, giving Edward an overexaggerated pout, looking up at him with big, sad, puppy-dog eyes. Edward's head begins to go a little fuzzy, who's Eddie? YOUR poor Eddie? Edward worries he may pass out, but the thought of how embarrassing it would be to faint right there in front of you is enough to keep his consciousness half-working. "You're feeling better now though, right?"

"Yeah, yeah- i-it was just a cold."

"Good," You smile, "I'm glad, it kind of sucked without you here, I was looking forward to seeing you and all- I even brought this really hard crossword puzzle I found in the newspaper for us to do together." A crossword puzzle? Together? Edward can't believe his ears. He's sure he looks absolutely insane right now, eyes blown wide, and his usually pale cheeks a deep, rosy pink.

"Did you um- finish it yourself?"

"No," You shake your head, "It's still on my coffee table." You let out a small, soft chuckle at the end of your sentence, and Edward swears he's fallen in love the instant the sound of your stifled laugh hits his ears. It's only been two weeks since he last saw you but god did he miss your voice.

"Well, if you bring it next time I'll do it with you." Edward nods before once again wiping his palms against his thighs. His hands tremble slightly as he tries to relieve them of some of the moisture they've accumulated from his nerves. It doesn't work. Edward's eyes quickly dart from you, to the notebook that's open in front of you, "What are you studying today?"

"I was really hoping you'd ask" You pick your head up from your hand, 'Remember how I was telling you how I was taking that forensics class?"

"Mhm." Edward rocks forward slightly.

"We're studying the Zodiac Killer right now, and as a challenge, my professor gave us the 408-cipher to try and solve for extra credit, and, god, this shit is hard." You let out an exasperated sigh.

Edward's face lights up upon hearing this news, excited that he now has the opportunity to help you out with something he knows he's good at.

"Do you want me to take a look at it when I get my break?" Edward asks, trying his best to not talk too loud or too forcefully out of pure eagerness.

"Would you please, Eddie?" And there you go again, looking up at Edward with those soft, sweet eyes, and he's weak in the knees now.

"Of course," He nods eagerly. Just then he's startled by the feeling of someone's hand on his shoulder. His body flinches slightly, caught off guard by the sudden sensation.

"Hey- hurry it up Nashton, you've got other customers waiting." Edward turns to see one of his fellow waiters standing behind him. Edward's jaw clenches tight in frustration at both being touched and being interrupted. Edward stares the man down, a long string of expletives brew in his vocal cords and he bites down on his tongue to stop himself from saying something that would get him fired or even worse make you upset. His teeth are puncturing his tongue so hard that a slight metallic taste seeps into his taste buds.

"Sorry." Edward barely mumbles out through gritted teeth. Who does he think he is, interrupting such a moment? Edward quickly turns back to face you, your brows furrowed slightly at the waiter who'd just reprimanded him. "Oh-uh I should probably take your order. The usual?"

"Yes please," Your expression quickly softens to a smile as the other waiter leaves your presence. You hand Edward back the menu the hostess had placed at your table, "You know me so well."

"I'll get that to you as fast as I can," Edward says, taking the menu back from you, rocking forward back and forth slightly on the balls of his feet.

"No rush Eddie." You assure.

-

It had been nearly two hours since Edward had cleared the dishes from your table, and you still sat there, in that booth, nose down in your notebook. Edward stared at you from across the diner, admiring your every move, he felt a little creepy but he just could not take his eyes off of you. A faint smile grazed upon his small pink lips as your brows knitted together and you let out what seemed to look like a sigh.

The diner had cleared out substantially as the late-night dinner rush faded into the early hours of the morning.

"You can take ya' 30 now Nashton," his supervisor said, pushing past his shoulder with a mostly empty coffee pot in hand. He nodded in response, despite no longer being within the woman's line of sight.

Edward makes his way over to the dessert case that sits right at the front of the diner. He slides open the case and takes out a slice of pumpkin pie that sits on one of the shelves, before heading to your table. Edward places the glass plate down and it rattles against the plastic tabletop, before taking his place on the seat opposite you with no warning. Your head popped up from your notebook immediately as you heard the sound of someone in front of you.

"Edward!" You said with a small gasp, "You startled me."

"Oh- I'm sorry." Edward frowns, his cheeks flush, hoping he hasn't upset you too greatly.

"It's no bother," You shake your head, "Come sit next to me," you scoot yourself over in the booth and pat the cheap pleather next to you.

Edward is quick to get up from his spot- anxiously taking the opportunity to get at least a little bit closer to you.

"Is this for me?" You smile, pointing at the slice of pumpkin pie that sits in front of you.

"Yeah, it's on me."

"You're too sweet to me Eddie," You say grabbing the plate and bringing it towards you. "You want to share?"

"No, it's okay, only if you don't finish it." He shakes his head and puts up his hands, motioning that you can keep the pie to yourself.

"Okay," you pause, "Should we get started?"

"Mhm."

-

"See? You got it." Edward said handing you back your pencil. "And this shape here... this would also be..." His voice trailed off as he extended a long finger to point at a square-like shape on the cipher.

"L...?" You asked, looking over to Edward for reassurance.

"Exactly! See? It's easy." his voice full of nothing but adoration and praise.

"Easy to you Eddie, you're like... a genius." You giggle. Edward's cheeks begin to turn a soft shade of red in response to your compliment.

"Oh," He sighs and shakes his head, "Not a genius, look, you did most of the work."

"With your help Eddie."

Edward's entire body gets hot and he can feel your eyes on him, he can't think of anything to say, no words will come out. You sound so kind, so appreciative, it has Edward in a trance. He's almost glad that his words are stuck in his throat, worrying that if somehow, someway they were able to climb their way out of his mouth he'll say something dumb. In a weak attempt to escape your unrelenting gaze Edward glances downwards and while doing so gets a quick look at the watch that wraps around his wrist. The ticking minute and second hands instill dread within him as he looks down at their surface.

"Shit." He sighs, "My break ended 5 minutes ago."

You frown, "Well, I'm not leaving until I finish this cipher, so, I'll probably still be here when you get off."

"Alright," Edward looks back up and pushes his glasses back up his nose, glancing back up at you he notices a sudden change in your face, your brows hang lower and your mouth points downwards. He can't quite explain the way your look makes him feel but he knows its not good. Edward looks around, noticing the lingering customers that are still scattered about. It's not that many people, he sighs "I- I'll be around a few more times." He sets his hands on the table and nods reassuringly.

"Okay," You respond in a hushed voice, barely above a whisper. Edward usually loves to hear your voice, but not now, you sound dejected, disappointment radiates off those two little syllables and he's well aware he's the one who caused it. Edward tilts his head as he looks at you, the corners of his mouth involuntarily falling just as yours had done seconds prior.

"You've got this," he barely lifts his finger to point towards your open notebook, he gives you a wholehearted smile, cheering you on in an attempt to hopefully lift that frown off your face.

"Thanks, Eddie." Your lips perk up slightly in a small smile, and Edward is relieved slightly that he is able to make at least a tiny change to your disappointed appearance.

He wants to stay sat down, helping you with the rest of the cipher, praising you every single time you get something right. He wants nothing more than to sit next to you for the rest of the night, and he contemplates just saying fuck it and doing just that. But the rational part of Edward's brain knows he can't risk getting fired, can't risk losing this job, and in the long run spending an extra few hours with you was not worth losing out on potential weeks' worth of diner visits.

So, unwillingly, he begins to send himself back to reality, away from your warmth and delight. He looks back around, noticing that the old couple that has been harping on him all night is still sitting at a booth in the far corner of the diner. A long breath falls from his lips, wishing that all of his customers could be as sweet as you, greeting him with a kind smile and attentive eyes. But even then Edward knows no one could ever compare, he knows he would never get as much pleasure from serving anyone as he does you. You were an experience he could not find anywhere else, and that's why it pained him so much to once again leave you alone in this booth, left to try and solve this cipher on your own.

Edward slowly stands up from the table, his hands warily pushing into its surface, reluctantly supporting him as he makes his depart.

"I'll be back soon," He smiles, stepping out of the booth.

"See you, Eddie."

-

A brisk wind hits Edward's face as he takes a step out of the overwhelming confines of the diner, slipping out into the dark Gotham streets. He sighs as he leans up against the building, his fingers slipping into his pocket to fish for the battered cigarette package. His hand wraps around the flimsy cardboard and takes it out of the tight confines of his trousers, flipping open the top and taking out a cigarette. He places the long, slender stick in his mouth before placing the package of cigarettes back in his pocket, and searching for his lighter in the other one. The cigarette sits between his teeth as both of Edward's hands come up close to his face, one cupped around his mouth to protect the impending flame from the wind, and the other holding his lighter, ready to strike. A calloused finger flicks down on the cold, metal flint, eliciting a bright orange flame from the cheap green lighter. The soft glow from the flame casts a small amount of warmth against Edward's face as he lights the end of his cigarette.

Edward inhales the warm smoke, letting the cool taste of menthol coat his mouth and throat, his prior urge to quit dissipates just as quickly as the smoke that exits his mouth does when it hits the wind. Edward's vaguely aware of each inhale's toxicity, but people fill their bodies with garbage every day, so really, how much more harm could a cigarette be doing?

Edward suddenly turns around, startled by the rattling of the diner door behind him. His gaze now falls upon you, who's just exited the diner, bag full of books slung over your shoulder, ready to leave. Your sudden appearance catches Edward way off guard, causing him to stifle his inhale, the smoke getting stuck in his throat. The once comforting warmth is now burning as he begins to viciously cough, nearly dropping his cigarette in the process. You stand there next to him, a vaguely worried look on your face.

"You alright, Eddie?" You ask, tiliting your head to the side.

"Yeah-yeah," Edward barely chokes out after a few more coughs, his face flushed with embarrassment. Finally, he catches his breath and straightens himself out, and a more relieved look washes over your face.

"I finished the cipher." You state, "I- uhh- I left a copy of it on the table- right next to your tip- if you wanted to take a look at it."

"Of course I do," His face lights up, "That's good. I told you you could do it." Edward's free hand taps anxiously at his side, his fingers pattering at the fabric of his pants.

"Well," You look down at your feet, a shy smile tugging at your lips, "It was mostly you, Eddie."

Edward wonders why you're being so bashful, you should be proud of yourself.

"Don't discount your work, I merely just helped,"

"I guess." You shrug, "Well- I just thought I'd let you know it's there for you on the table, I didn't know if you're staying 'til close- but I'm getting pretty tired so I figured I should go."

"No-uh-yeah that's alright, I still have a bit left on my shift." Edward nods incessantly. "Thank you for letting me know."

"Of course Eddie." You smile, "Goodbye," You shift towards Edward slightly and open your arms. He freezes for a minute, all of his joints simultaneously feeling like they've just locked up. He needs to take a second to process what your open arms are inviting before he anxiously opens his up slightly too.

Your arms find themselves on his torso, just barely giving his upper body a squeeze. Edward is completely thrown off guard, you've never hugged him before. He wants nothing more than to throw his arms around you, pull you into a bone-crushing embrace, and show you the full force of his affections. But he stops himself, only wrapping one arm fully around your back, and the one with the cigarette loosely around you, keeping it stuck out slightly to keep the flame away from your body.

Even in your friendly embrace, Edward can't help but admire the warmth that radiates off of you. Not just physical body heat, but the way your arms hold him, and your headrests just gently on his shoulder, no one has ever handled him with such delicacy. He couldn't even tell you the last time he had a hug, years probably, and one like this? Literally never.

"Goodbye." He choked

He desperately suppressed the urge to tell you how much this meant to him, to get comfortable in your arms, to let you hold him there- but Edward knew this was no more than a friendly goodbye hug between two acquaintances. Your arms slowly pulled away from him as a small yawn escaped from your mouth. He couldn't even be disappointed at the sensation of you letting him go, the afterglow of even the simplest affection, was so heavy on his face.

"See you soon!" You wave, beginning to step away from Edward.

"Please be safe." He urges, unable to not worry about the possibilities of wandering around Gotham late at night.

"I will Eddie," You sport a content grin across your face as you turn around and walk away. Edward's gaze follows you down the sidewalk until he sees you get into a car that he presumes is yours.

He brings his cigarette back to his lips, inhaling, desperate for some relief now that his mind is once again moving at a million miles a second. The nicotine does little to calm him down now, still all too stunned from your sweet goodbye. If anyone were to pass by now he'd surely look like a madman, his body entirely stiff and locked up, smiling like an absolute maniac. But he didn't have half the mind to even care about his perception to other people because you hugged him. How could he ever possibly stop thinking about that? How could literally anything else in his life matter?

Edward quickly finishes his smoke, eager to see your work on the Zodiac cipher. What remains of the cigarette falls from Edward's fingers and onto the cold, hard ground below. He steps over the dwindling flame, crushing the cigarette with the heel of his boot and scraping the rubber sole against the rough pavement to make sure it's been put out. He anxiously steps back inside where he b-lines right to your table. The first thing he notices is a generous $15 tip, way over 20% for your meal. The sight of the wet bills sitting under a cup covered in tiny droplets of condensation brings a small smile to Edward's face, even though it makes him feel a little shallow.

Next to the bills, however, Edward notices a copy of the Zodiac cipher penciled out on the same notebook paper you had been using, on a separate sheet, the answer to the cipher, both of which he'd expected to see. However, Edward is slightly caught off-guard by a third sheet of paper, containing the same symbols of the 408 cipher, but of a different length in order, with a simple"Solve me :)" scribbled at the top.

Edward quickly realizes that you've left him your own cipher to solve, and he's even more excited now than he was before, just getting to see your solution to the Zodiac cipher. But now you're actually partaking in a puzzle for him to figure out? Could you get any more perfect? Edward's chest moves so rapidly, his breathing so present, that he's positive that it could probably be heard from tables away.

Despite all his eagerness to immediately drop everything and begin to decipher your message, he can hear his supervisor calling his name from across the diner. He gives out a shaky sigh, collecting the things from the table before returning to his job.

-

It's after 2 a.m. and Edward's finally home, his aching back hunched over his large wooden desk, papers sprawled throughout, illuminated only by a single, blinding lamp. He chews on his lip as he scribbles out the last remaining letters of your cipher before stepping back to read your work.

To my favorite waiter,

I know you love puzzles, so I wanted to try my hand at one I hope it's not too easy to solve, when you get the answer, give me a call!

The cipher then spelled out a series of ten single-digit numbers. Edward's pen fell right out of his hand straight onto the ground and his jaw went slack once he put everything together. Those numbers spelled out a phone number your phone number. You wanted him to call you. HIM!

Edward runs a hand through his sandy-blonde hair, lightly tugging on the strands as his fingers pass through in pure disbelief. Had his apartment always been this warm? His vision always been this blurry? Anxious fingers fumble towards his back pocket, quickly whipping out his phone. His hands are visibly shaking as he holds his phone out in front of him, typing the numbers onto the keypad. His nervous shakes causing him to hit the wrong number more than once.

Once he finally has the number down he sits there, staring at his bright screen reflecting back onto his face. He's lost, he has no clue what to do. You said to call him... but what if you're asleep? It is pretty late. What if it's a cruel joke and that's not even your real number? What if he says something stupid and embarrasses himself. Edward is at a loss, but he can't give up this opportunity, no way.

Edward screws his eyes shut tight, fuck it, he presses the bright green call button that shines in his face. The phone begins to ring, each high pitched toll feels like a growing mockery of Edward's own anxieties.

And finally, the ringing stops, the line picks up. Edward's heart drops down to his stomach.

"H-hello," He stutters into the speaker.

"Eddie!" A familiar voice says on the other side, comfort reigns over Edward as his body finally slumps back into his chair, "You called!"

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 ❤

being bold and deciding to make the first move by kissing his rings before you push his hand up your skirt 🤭

Distracted

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

You're a friend of Robin's whose been in his world peripherally for a while. Like you've gone to the same parties and you've hung out at Family Video and seen him when he brought the teens in to see Steve after Hellfire sessions. You've only hung out in groups and your conversations, though extremely flirty, have been pretty surface level.

But you've got a thing for the quirky metalhead. Not only is he a fucking babe, but he also seems genuinely sweet and is very funny. When you bring this up to Robin, however, you aren't prepared for how she lights up, telling you that Eddie's been asking about you, too. Ever the matchmaker, Robin pushes you into a plot that makes it so that you and Eddie end up alone at his place on a Saturday night (initial group plans are bailed on last minute by all the teens who were threatened within an inch of their life not to actually show up).

Eddie seems unfazed by this turn of events and takes it in stride, cracking open a six pack for the two of you to share and throwing on a horror movie.

"If you want to bail, too, that's cool," he lets you know, even as you plop down beside him on the couch, beer in hand. He's got a self-deprecating smile on his face. "I'm sure hanging out alone with the town freak wasn't exactly on your agenda this week."

"Don't presume to know my agenda, Munson," you tsk, feigning a frown that is already curling around the edges into the smile you can't suppress. "You know how type A I am. I won't have you questioning my to-do list."

You apply the innuendo lightly, but the way his eyebrow quirks lets you know that it lands as you'd intended. Eddie runs his tongue over his teeth while appraising you.

"I wouldn't dare get in the way of your efficiency, sweetheart." There's a dare in his eyes, but you lean back against the couch and watch him over the top of your bottle as you take a sip. You've got time.

As the night goes on, the two of you drink and laugh and tease one another. One movie ends and he puts on the sequel immediately. Some slasher where kids are running around screaming in the woods. The two of you discuss what your own strategy would be if you found yourselves in a similar situation. At this point, you're feeling loose and floaty - combination of the alcohol and the sound of Eddie's laughter. It's got bubbles fizzing in your bloodstream. Your bodies have shifted closer on the couch as time has gone on, and as he emphatically describes something, his hand comes down to press onto your knee. Seemingly just as a matter of emphasis and to ground your attention in his point, but you notice that his hand doesn't lift up when he finishes his monologue.

A thrill of possessive pleasure runs through your body at the realization.

"You know, you'd probably die somewhere around the halfway point of the movie," you challenge suddenly and Eddie's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"I'm sorry, princess, but what?!"

"You know because you're all..." you gesture to his body. The denim vest he's still wearing over his band tee even though he's relaxing at home. The tattoos. The heavy rings on the hand that's still resting on your knee. His fingers flex against your skin when you point at them.

"I'm a badass, you mean? What about my badassery makes you think I'm dying at all?"

"The cool guys always die at the midpoint," you argue. "They get distracted having sex with the hot girls and that's when the killer guts them." Exactly as you say this, as if the universe is trying to bolster your argument, a young man on screen is stabbed through the back mid-thrust, falling down bloody upon his shrieking lover. You glance away from the screen and back at Eddie with a satisfied smirk. "Case in point."

"All I got from that is the fact you think I'm cool," Eddie says with a smug smirk. You roll your eyes at him but shift a bit closer.

"I also said you'd die fucking a bimbo."

"No, you said I'd die fucking a hot girl," he corrects, also shifting infinitesimally closer.

"Oh, so you were listening," you tease. Your hand rests on top of his hand on your knee and you start fiddling with his rings.

"Yeah, and I guess that means you should be concerned," he says flippantly, his fingers splaying out on your knee so that yours have more space to move between them. You're now distracted by the attention you're focusing on his hand.

"Why should I be concerned?"

"Because the hot girl getting fucked by the cool guy dies next," he says, nodding his head towards the tv you had all but forgotten about just as a young woman running topless through the woods, her breasts swinging and covered in her dead boyfriend's blood, is cut down by the killer. You both laugh.

"All I got from that is the fact you think I'm hot," you say turning back to him and mimicking his prior comment. His face lights up with a grin.

"Guilty as charged, sweetheart."

The moment feels right. The electricity between the two of you is palpable and you lift his hand up off your knee and towards your lips.

"They only get got, though, because they get distracted," you posit, pressing a kiss to each of Eddie's rings. His eyes are trained on your lips, his own parted to let his suddenly shallow breathing pass through. "Do you think you could keep from getting distracted?"

"Uh...yeah," Eddie says, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "Yeah I'm sure I could stay focused. Vigilant."

"Oh yeah?" you ask, smiling at how he's already so distracted. Suddenly you're lowering his hand and bringing it to the top of your thigh, right at the hem of your skirt. He takes a sharp inhale. "What's that? Losing focus?"

"No. Never, sweetheart," he says with a laugh, though it's shaky. Without even losing a beat his fingers flex in your hand, the pad of his thumb caressing at the skin of your thigh that he's never touched till now.

"What about now?" you ask, abruptly pushing his hand up your skirt to rest on your clothed pussy.

Before you can even process the next heartbeat, Eddie is on you. His mouth is capturing yours in a soul searing kiss and you can't help but gasp into him. Taking in his taste and scent all at the same heady time. Your hand abandons his on your mound and you bring your arms up around his neck to pull him as close to you as possible.

"If I die, I fucking die,” Eddie practically growls against your lips. “Distract me, baby.”

You laugh but he dips his head down to nips at your collar bone and it turns into a moan. Eddie’s hand starts rubbing blindly at your slit through your panties and you find your hips moving against his fingers of their own accord.

“Do horror movies turn you on?” Eddie teases. You bite your lip and shake your head, looking him dead in the eye.

“No, you turn me on, Eddie Munson.”

Suddenly you’re being pushed back down against the couch. The abruptness of his manhandling has you squealing and you lock your arms around his neck, being sure to keep him close and bringing him down with you.

His kiss arrests your lips again, his tongue invading your mouth. It’s everything you ever wanted. It’s what you’d imagined each time you’d watched him from the other side of a party or listened to him joking around with your mutual friends.

All of his attention. All of his focus on you.

What you don’t realize is that it’s always been on you. At those parties and those hang outs, as much as you’d watched him, he’d been watching you. Learned to love your smile and how quick you were to laugh. Catalogued your stories in the back of his mind as you told them to a riveted audience of all the teens.

He’s finally getting to touch you the way he’s always wanted. And it’s working him up faster than he’d like to admit.

You shift on the couch and it gives him more room to slot his body between your opened thighs. When his hard, denim-covered bulge presses against your thigh, your hips buck, pushing up into the palm which has been applying pressure to your pussy.

“Remember that agenda?” You ask with a tremor in your voice. His hand slips under the elastic of your panties, fingers making direct contacted with your slick core for the first time. You both groan.

“Um…yeah.” He says, shaking his head as if to clear it in order to comprehend your words. The tip of a finger circles your clit before sliding down to push into your hole. You gasp. “Your to-do list.”

“You’re at the top,” you gasp out.

There’s a moment where a Eddie doesn’t react. He’s so focused on pumping his finger in and out of your tight pussy, feeling you around him. Watching your chest rise and fall. But when your words make sense he throws back his head and let’s out a bellowing laugh. His laugh makes you laugh and then you’re shaking in one another’s arms. Trying to calm down. The shared vibrations of your joint hysteria seeming to wreak havoc on all of your nerve endings.

Eddie lunges forward and begins sucking at your neck and the tops of your breasts exposed by your low neckline. Just as he adds another finger to your pussy.

“I can be efficient, too, you know,” he says before worrying your skin between his lips.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you be efficient with your shirt off?” You ask, fingers scrabbling at the hem of the garment. Eddie sits up quickly and yanks the shirt off with unnecessary, theatrical aggression, tossing it away as if it’s offended him. You reach out and trace the tattoos on his chest and he moves to lower himself back over you.

“Mmm, cool guy,” you hum, your fingers passing delicately over his inked skin. Eddie quickly unbuttons your blouse and pulls it open, gazing hungry down at your bra-clad breasts.

“Hot girl,” he responds, pressing his face juvenilely between your tits. You grasp at the hair at the back of his neck and laugh until you feel him beginning to suck on you. Then your hips are rolling into his hand. The hand that’s started to fuck you in earnest. “You look like you’re more distracted than me right now, sweetheart. Maybe you’ll be dying before me after all. That petite mort, huh?”

You’re laughing and gasping all at once. His French accent is atrocious but he’s referencing a conversation you’d had with him and Robin about orgasms the week prior. You hadn’t thought he’d been paying attention since he’d been half in argument with Steve at the time, but now you know otherwise.

“You we’re listening to that? Was - fuck - pretty sure you were focused on whatever Harrington was saying.”

“I’m always focused on you, sweetheart.”

You feel heat creeping through your body as fondness mixes with arousal. You’re impatient and you both push and pull at him all at once.

“Ok I just need you to fuck me, ok? Can we jump to that?”

“Nuh uh, I’m making you cum first.” His thumb presses harder circles into your clit and you cry out. But you shake your head dramatically side to side.

“No I want you inside me now.”

“That’s a bit pushy of you, isn’t it?” Eddie teases, but as he does so he eases his fingers out of you and brings them up to lick off your slick. You’re already unbuckling his belt and pushing down his jeans.

“No, I’m efficient. Type A, remember?” His cock springs free of his boxers and you’re ready to drool. He’s practically edible, and if you weren’t so fucking on the edge right now you’d swallow him while immediately.

“How could I forget,” he responds, voice full of gravel as he grabs his cock and pumps one twice. You lay back against the couch, legs splayed and waiting for him, divesting yourself of your bra and cupping your breasts to keep yourself worked up. “Fuck you’re a pretty picture.”

“Gonna just stare or are you gonna do something, Munson?”

“See? Pushy,” he says, even as he lowers himself on top of you and pushes his tip right into your entrance.

The teasing stops as you both come together with rolling hips and gasping breaths. His thrusts are hard and definitive and you find yourself holding on for dear life. He feels so good and right and heavy and strong and you’re so close so soon.

“Eddie…Jesus Christ I’m…” your eyes are squeezed shut and he kisses your eye lids, paradoxically sweet when juxtaposed with the harsh way he’s pounding into you.

“You gonna cum, baby?” He asks, and there’s playful mocking in his tone. If you couldn’t feel his muscles shaking, proving he is equally close, you would have felt more shame.

“Y-yeah…gonna cum.” You admit it on a whine. He feels so good and then suddenly his finger is between you, swirling over your clit again.

“Already? I guess that’s efficient of you,” he says and you clench hard when you laugh, making him let out a loud moan.

“Stop - fuck! You can’t clench like that,” he admonishes.

“Stop making me laugh then, asshole,” you say with no bite. He, however, bites your neck and laves his tongue over the skin.

“Mmmm, you’re sexy when you’re mean.”

You’re not sure what does it - his thrusts, his finger on your clit, his teasing - but one moment you’re rolling your hips into his and the next you’re writhing beneath him, cumming harder than you ever have before. You practically black out calling his name, so much so that you don’t even notice when he cums along right after you.

You come back to your senses to find him still inside you, trailing kisses up and down your throat and chest. You take a deep shuddering breath and grip weakly at his back.

“You gotta get up,” you say, pushing weakly at him with not intent behind the motion. Eddie shakes his head and buries it into your neck.

“Never.”

“I gotta get up and cross you off my checklist.” You tease with a breathless laugh which he returns.

“You can’t. We were so distracted the killer got us. We’re dead, remember?” His grin is so wide one of your trembling hands lifts automatically to trace his dimples.

“Fuck. The downside to being cool and hot is pretty disproportionate to the upside.”

“Speak for yourself,” he snorts, letting his hand come up to cup your jaw. “I’m staring at a pretty big upside.”

~*~

Tiny tag list (will come back later and add more people): @sacklerscumrag @theoncrayjoy @millenialcatlady @xxcatrenxx @cowboy-kylo

Posts about Palestine are getting fewer days by days . Please don't stop .

Israel is slowly loosing the battle because they are exposed , so keep exposing them and write about Palestinians . We owe them this much .