#hook drabble

[gethooked]

Price of marriage ~ HOOK

Requested

Anonymous: Can I request were we are married and we are also a wrestler and during one of his matches with chris Jericho we get hurt in the process and just a bunch of fluff and sweetness

Taglist: @saramusazzi99 @carlybow @moniquelovesaewhook @biggesthat3r

Hook and you got married after dating for a year and a half. There was no regrets to you guys getting married. But there is a major price to pay when it comes to being married to HOOK. Good thing you are a wrestler so you know how to defend yourself. The feud between Jericho and HOOK started due to Jericho trying to make you learn from him. You were not interested at all in learning from him. So you kept kindly telling him no. After you kept turning him down he moved on to his next victim. Your dear husband who knows exactly what Jericho was doing to you. After everything that happened between HOOK, Shibata, and Jericho, HOOK had a match against Jericho. HOOK had told you from the beginning when the match got declared he wanted you to stay back with the Lads (Darius, Dante, Andretti, and Bowens). Well you did until it got towards the end of the match. As soon as you saw Jericho grab the bat you ran for the ring the guys not noticing except for Bowens. Bowens was the only one really watching you like HOOK asked. You got in the ring right after Jericho hit your husband with the bat. You pushed Jericho away from your husband. Jericho just looked at you making eye contact with you thinking you finally agreed to learn from him. What he did not expect was for you to suplex him. When he got back up he hit you with the bat in the leg which made you scream out in pain. Which made Taz come running to you knowing his son was knocked out cold. As Taz was checking on you Jericho pinned your husband. Medical came to check on you first but you refused and made them help your husband. Which they did. After you guys made it backstage HOOK gave you his mad face. You just looked at him not knowing if he was mad at you or mad at the fact that he lost the FTW championship. He kept telling you that he told you stay back and you didn’t listen. Eventually realized that you were clutching your leg in pain. He stopped being mad at you and asked you what happened. You told him and then he just kissed you and hugged you and told you not to do that stupid crap again. You guys ended up being fine, your husband had a concussion and your leg was sore and going to be bruised. But one thing you guys did was take care of each other.

[eddiazx]

ablaze in the ambulance - eddie diaz x reader

"Eddie. Eddie, come on!" You call out.

The man in question doesn't look back; in fact, you're pretty sure he walks away even faster from you.

You knew he was pissed. You knew that he would be when you ran into the burning building without calling for backup. But you got out of there safely, a 7-year-old kid named Leo safely in your arms, without so much as a scratch on either one of you. Bobby had been exasperated, but ultimately he put a hand on your shoulder before giving you a stern "don't do that again."

Now, if only your boyfriend could give you the same grace.

You watch him walk into the ambulance once everyone is back at the firehouse, shutting the doors behind him with a slam. Buck, Chim, Hen, and Bobby give you small, sympathetic smiles, telling you they were going to hit the showers before getting started on supper.

You watch them disappear upstairs, before taking a deep breath, and walking into the ambulance.

Eddie doesn't look up when you step in. Instead, he continues to take inventory of the gauze and bandages. You can practically see the cartoon-like fumes radiating off of him.

"Eddie." You say softly.

He looks up then, his stormy brown eyes piercing through you, but still doesn't utter a word.

"I'm sorry." You try again.

"Are you, though? Because I feel like you would do it again in a heartbeat." Eddie spits out, and you would've winced at his anger if you didn't hear the crack of his voice, vulnerability pronouncing the end of his sentence.

"I would." You respond, truthfully. "But I am sorry I worried you."

"Worried." Eddie huffs out an unamused laugh. "I was terrified. I thought that would be the last time I saw you! I thought you had died!"

"Eddie." You brave a few steps until you're standing barely an inch away from him. "I will always fight to come home to you, to my family."

Eddie's face softens, listening to the words he has said multiple times to Chris and you, now directed back at him. He puts his hand on the back of your neck, pulling your face towards his. The kiss is hard, uncoordinated and messy, but passionate and raw nonetheless.

You reach down blindly in between kisses to unbuckle Eddie's belt as he brings one of his hands to grab your ass, massaging the skin through your pants, while he uses his other hand to pull your shirt up to touch skin.

Meanwhile, Chim and Hen look down forlornly from the loft railing to a rocking ambulance.

"Did they really have to pick the ambulance to make up in?"

[petrichorium]

the first time you give in and let shanks into your bed—after months and months of very persistent dashing grins and cloying sweet-talk—you don’t realize until he has you pressed against your bedroom door, with his singular hand tucked beneath your skirts to grasp the back of your knee and hook your leg around him, that the vest you’ve chosen today is held together by a row of small buttons at the front.

it’s an issue it seems he’s only just realized too, as he pulls away from your lips and stares down at your bust.

“buttons,” he says with a pout, thumb tapping pensively against the side of your knee. “is this a test?”

“an accident,” you laugh. “i’ll help—“

“no.” shanks nips at your finger playfully before you can touch your neckline. “not proper to make a lady undress herself.”

it shouldn’t be a surprise, you suppose, but he’s more skilled than you anticipate. with teeth and tongue he manages to undo three before the steady unveiling of your cleavage distracts him. letting go of your leg, he reaches up to work at the fourth even as his tongue runs hot over the newly exposed skin of your chest.

then you feel him pause. he blinks; his eyes are dark and stormy, so deep red they might as well be black. though you often find it difficult to parse out what he’s thinking, it hardly takes a genius to gauge the way that big hand catches hold of the side of your vest, teeth grazing the other; preparing to forego any more delay and simply tear the damn thing apart.

“pop them,” you sigh out, somehow unwilling to speak more than a murmur, “rip it off. i won’t stop you. but—“

you pause just as shanks does the same, eyes darting up to meet yours over the heaving swell of your chest and fingers freezing where he’s gripped the fabric of your bodice.

“you won’t do much more than touching tonight,” you finish.

those eyes sharpen. a thrill goes through you, as his fingers flex for half a moment—and then he’s surging up to kiss you again, hard and heavy and biting, drawing a heady giggle from your tongue. his arm slips around your thighs, tightening to lift you from the solid wood you’ve been pressed against before he turns to take a scant few strides and deposit you onto your bed, not once parting from your lips.

only when you’ve settled does he pull back, just slightly, pressing his forehead to yours as he moves his arm to brace himself on his elbow and then giving a surprisingly chaste peck to the tip of your nose as he begins a descent.

he lingers at the edge of your neckline, sucks at your skin, then kisses down your stomach over the fabric that still covers you; his hand is eager but gentle as it slides beneath the hem of your dress again, rough calluses brushing against your foot and ankle and calf until he’s palming your knee and pushing the fabric up over your thighs.

“well.” that look in his eye is more of a glint now, accompanied by a grin and a wink that has you rolling your eyes as shanks disappears from sight. “suppose i’ll find something we can do without taking that damn thing off, eh?”

[gublernatural]

obv 4 spoilers below!

your hand searched for sarah’s as soon as rafe appeared behind shoupe. a chill ran down your back, but you felt your heart jump in your chest. this dichotomy was a good way to sum up the relationship you had with him. a short lived moment in time filled with intense feelings for each other and immense hurt when it ended.

despite it all, despite the awful things he’d done to your friends, despite the nasty things you’d done to him, despite the fear you felt as he approached, despite it all, you were happy to see him.

sarah’s hand squeezed yours, an attempt to ground you, to focus you onto the scene unfolding in front of you.

rafe’s eyes flickered to you as he started his pitch. it was almost as if he was desperate as you and your friends were to get the hell out of here. his confidence faltered, only for a second. you watched as his attention shifted back to shoupe.

you tried to ignore the ringing sound in your ears as rafe tried to convince shoupe to let you all off the hook. you couldn’t hide the awe you felt as rafe gestured to the large boat behind him. you couldn’t believe how he’d thought this out, how he’d thought out saving you.

a sense of relief fell over everyone as shoupe gave up arguing, letting you go find groff for him. you trailed behind everyone else as they passed where rafe and shoupe were standing, heading to the tuna boat without looking back at either though.

you felt like you weren’t in control of your body as followed behind sarah, but stopping dead in your tracks in front of rafe. you moved quickly, snaking your arms around his waist and pulling his body as close to yours as physically possible. rafe gasped, shocked by the contact. he moved slow, afraid of scaring you away and taking this moment away from him.

his arms slid up your back, just as delicate as you remembered. you couldn’t help yourself from reminiscing. suddenly it was four years ago, and you were standing in the cameron’s living room, drunkenly slow dancing at a party. your breath caught in your throat as you felt rafe squeeze your body and rest his chin on your shoulder.

you stayed there, for just a second, enjoying your slow dance one last time.

you were the one to pull away, walking towards the tuna boat without a word.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Captain Hook x AFAB!Fairy!Reader || Smexcerpt

Plot: You thought convincing a witch to make you big as a human would soften your edges. Make you feel a little less.

But thats not the case. You still get so mad you cant see straight, you still get so sad you cant stop crying, and you still get so horny nothing else matters.

Warnings: Dub con themes. Fucking of convenience 😅 XD Context?? Nay... Also unedited.

It wasn't your fault that the only person with you when you started feeling this way was Captain Hook! If you had been close to mermaid lagoon, you would've happily engaged with a mermaid and not the cruel, wicked pirate you were most certainly not supposed to fraternise with. All the fairies were loyal to Peter, you all loved Peter dearly, and therefor all the fairies hated mean old Hook.

But when you got this way trying to sneak away from the pirates before they saw you, accidentally rubbing against a tree you were attempting to slip past, and let out that desperate, too-loud moan... and he heard you... and sent his men away so he could help the odd, human-sized fairy... you didn't have a choice! You had to use the cruel pirate Captain's convenient dick.

He only had to flash a beautiful wicked smirk at you, those burning eyes that looked like blood whenever he killed simmering right through you, before your shed your thin dress and bowled him over and onto the forest floor with your eagerness to release his cock from his belt and his pants and sit on it. You fumble with the belt, unfamiliar with the article, and you accidentally leave scratch marks with your sharp nails over his thighs as you pull down his trousers, but when you finally settle down onto his cock, taking him deeply inside your throbbing, drooling pussy you feel immediate relief. If only a little bit; not nearly enough to stop.

The Captain sighs, too, experiencing probably his first warm cunt since he was stranded at Neverland. A feeling you're sure the rotten old bastard coveted desperately all these years, seeing as how eager he was to be left alone with an insatiably horny fairy. You could see it when you closed your eyes and began to ride him; Him alone in his ships study pumping his cold and lonely cock with his eyes closed imagining if only there was a pretty girl in all of Neverland to sink into. The thought would bring you unfiltered joy, Captain Hook pathetic and needy, if you weren't already busy with pure, filthy lust.

The pretty sounds of ringing slip past your lips, the only language you know, as you fuck yourself on his thick cock. The sound like if someone took a bell and shook it like crazy filling up the clearing, along with the Captain's heavy breathing under you. He raises his torso and uses his good hand to hold himself up with his fingernails embedded in the earth under him while the arm with that dreadful hook wraps around your waist; holding you close and calling you magnificent in a breathless whisper.

He cum's a few times while you fuck him, getting hard again every time when you don't stop and don't let him up, instead keeping him in your vice-grip, drawing him dry. Its your one solace. He wanted to take advantage of your predicament; well he definitely got that.

When you finally cum your wings flutter extatically behind you, sending a cold gust of wind into the forest and blowing leaves up off the ground. You leave your shimmery grease all over the Captain's dick, thighs, and pelvis. With a flap of your wings you raise off of him, turn on him like he means nothing, and slip your dress back on over your body.

You're about to leave him in that clearing, sure that he hasn't moved, when you feel an arm wrap tightly around your waist and a body press tight to your back. A gasp rips from your throat, and you freeze- still.

You can feel warm breath on your neck when he mutters quietly to you; My dear, I don't know how you got to be this size. Cruel, fickle little creature... but don't think you're getting away.

We could be quite useful, to each other.

[kym-m]

HOW WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO TREAT YOU? An L drabble

AN: Admittedly, I think I was just trying to write L. This ha no relevant substance whatsoever!! It's awfully dry, and immature--- so please take it with a grain of salt. I just wanna try writing L as a character and how I think his quirks would take action in a relationship, which I'd say I didn't execute properly here, i'm sorry.:( if you want, please grant me suggestions/requests! I wanna see if I can explore the complexities of his character more. (P.S ignore the yap if you want. there might be grammatical errors! Possibly OOC L.)

It’s easily unsettling how someone like L could exist. He sits across you, you hold back the urge to mutter an obscenity towards the older man driving, Watari, for your calamity. L caused you distress, in ways you never thought would irk you—whether it came to him spoiling a novel you were invested in to the tee, or him eating so much sweets and food in one sitting it makes you gag. You hold your hands, sweat builds up, causing moisture to seep through your palms, your eyes try to maintain focus on the scenery you pass by, fleeting, a distraction.

You see a slight reflection of L in the window, it was eerie, straight from a horror movie, you’d argue. He parts his lips, smiling erratically, it was unnerving. His thumb rests at his lips.

“You’re purposely ignoring me,”

You take a shallow breath, finally meeting those empty pits he calls his eyes. 

“I was.”

“Why?”

You shrug, before looking away. You feel the cushion beside you dip, you pray you would hit a road bump and L would tumble over. To your tragedy, Watari was a meticulous driver. He assured no bumps or shifts would be driven over, at least if possible. He was careful, smooth, another factor to your sorrow.

L’s hair tickles your shoulder, you see his reflection once more. He looked even more uncanny, how are you here?

“Eerie.” You mutter.

“Me?” He retorts, his tone was blank.

“Yes.” You breathe out, your fingers twitch.

“What do you want, L?” You shakily mumble, your chance to portray confidence was a futile and sorry attempt. Against L, no amount of confidence can save you from that stare. It could shatter even the biggest ego’s of man, you’ve seen it yourself.

“Your company, you are a very poor guest.”

“We’re dating..” 

“We are.”

Then silence echoed throughout the car. You finally turn your head and meet his gaze. 

“You treat me like a specimen, it’s.. Scary.”

“Is it? Elaborate.”

You sigh, trying to look for the right words.

“Traditionally, partners are softer with one another, fonder—if you will.”

“Am I not fond?”

“Ah—...are you?”

“I am.”

“...I'll pay more attention, then.” You retort.

“That’s not necessary.” He hums. 

“It’s clear you are unable to identify when I am being softer with you compared to others,”

“Would you prefer if we did traditionally romantic exercises?”

Once again, you prove to be indecisive, you shrug. 

“I guess,”

He nods, putting his hands on top of his knees as he somehow manages to slouch forward even more. 

“Let’s go on a date,” he suggests.

“Outside?” You ask.

“No, don’t be foolish.” He mutters instantly, tone reserved, somehow it sounds harsher when his disappointment is directed towards you.

“Sorry.” You grumble.

“Let us arrange it later,”

“We’re here.”

Somehow, L trying to court you in a traditional manner, was even scarier than L courting you now.

Maybe you didn’t mind his.. Catatonic way of expressing his vulnerability with you. Does that make sense? Suppose not.

[hannahbarberra162]

Imagine interrupting Crocodile while he works.... (smut drabble)

There’s no justification for writing this lol. Pure smut no plot. What that hook do though... barely proofread, had to shoot this out of my brain before it lingered too long. ~300 words.

F!reader x Croc

Imagine bothering Crocodile while he was working…

You were bound and set on top of his desk like a decorative paperweight, the papers below you sodden with your sweat, drool, and juices as they dripped down your body. He said it was punishment for disturbing him while he was working but the glint in his eye told you that wasn’t quite the case. He’d hogtied you, bringing your hands to your ankles as you laid on your stomach. The gag in your mouth had been covered in honey, causing you to drool even more than usual - to Crocodile’s delight. That setup alone was uncomfortable but the real reason for your squirming was the yellow gold hook in your ass, a taut rope tied from the end of the hook to your ponytail to keep it in place. The hook was an exact replica of the one he wore on his hand though thankfully dulled at the tip. Crocodile told you he had it made expressly for this purpose, given that you were always interrupting during his reading time. Every movement you made forced the hook further and further into you while your bindings kept you spread for his pleasure. You’d squeaked at the cold metal of the hook when he’d first put it in but the metal had warmed rapidly. You desperately wanted to be filled by him, both holes with something of his, a finger, his cock, his tongue - anything to quell the hunger building inside you. 

Crocodile had other plans. 

Crocodile was idly playing with your sopping wet folds, one finger now grazing the outside of your opening. You could have screamed with frustration, he’d kept you on edge for at least an hour. Or so you thought, it was hard to tell. In your mind you willed him to continue stroking, to rub your clit or fill you with his thick fingers so you could finally come. But as if he was telepathic and heard your thought plea, Crocodile stopped touching your cunt completely, using his hand to light another cigar instead.

“Enjoying your new toy?” Crocodile asked, not looking up from his newspaper. 

“I’m enjoying mine,” he said with a satisfied grin as his wicked hand resumed teasing you.

[fake-mouthstatic]

treasure

@118dailydrabble day 16. bucktommy, rated T.

🔥

"Avast, me hearty!" Evan shouts, startling Tommy as he jumps into the room, brandishing a sword.

Tommy looks him up and down, eyebrow raised.

"Someone's excited for the party tomorrow."

"I don't know what party you be meanin'," Evan replies, grinning through his fake beard, pirate accent rather worse than his admittedly pretty great - and unfairly sexy - costume. "I'm simply here to find me buried treasure."

"Not here to kidnap me then?" Tommy smirks, stepping close and sliding his hands around Evan's belted waist before leaning in, whispering right into his ear. "Tie me up and use me any way you want?"

Evan's breath hitches.

"Fuck, yeah, okay."

Tommy grins; his afternoon just got a lot more interesting.

read the others here

[harcidian]

atonement

royai drabble (too short and random to be a fic I fear)

It is late.

Not the kind of late that permits forgetting. The kind that stretches out in long silences, in the echo of footsteps down the marbled corridors of power, in the hum of overhead lights no one’s remembered to shut off. It is the hour where words die in throats, and truths taste too sharp to speak aloud.

Colonel Roy Mustang stands at the window, hands clasped behind his back, staring out at the city. The glass reflects him in faint silhouette, fractured by the streetlamp glow. He does not move when she enters.

She doesn’t knock. She never does anymore.

“Sir,” Riza says, the word formal out of habit, or fear, or self-preservation. Her voice is low. “I have the final reports.”

He nods, still not facing her. “Leave them on the desk.”

But she doesn’t move. Not yet. Her fingers tighten slightly on the manila folder. Her other hand brushes the strap of her holster, purely out of reflex. The quiet between them stretches, pregnant with what cannot be said.

“I read your notes,” he says finally, voice like paper torn slowly down the middle. “You were right about the informant in Dublith.”

“I know.”

He closes his eyes. The weight of the windowpane presses cold against his knuckles. “You could’ve been killed.”

“You knew that when you sent me.”

There is something in her voice that could almost be cruelty, if it weren’t so tired. If it weren’t so hollowed out.

Roy turns at last. The light casts shadows across his face, making a ruin of him. She’s always known him like this—half in darkness, always about to fall.

“I never wanted this for you,” he says.

The folder slips from her fingers and lands on the desk with a quiet flutter. Paper scatters. Neither of them look at it.

He steps toward her, once. Just once. Enough that the air between them thickens. She draws a breath she doesn’t mean to.

“You don’t get to say that,” she tells him, eyes locked on his like it’s the last thing tethering her to sense. “You don’t get to want anything.”

It’s not anger. It’s something worse. Grief, maybe. Or love that has festered too long beneath the skin.

He reaches for her then—not with hands, but with eyes. That look of his, full of tragedy. Full of everything he can never ask her to carry.

She sways, just enough for him to notice.

“I see you,” he says, barely a whisper. “Every day, Riza. And I still—”

“Don’t.”

The word cracks the silence like a gunshot.

And he doesn’t. Because he knows. Because they’ve made this choice a hundred times before.

But then—against all better judgment, against every vow they’ve kept for the sake of duty, of country, of all the cold and noble things—they move. A step. A breath. A whisper of closeness. Her hand brushes his, just once, like a mistake.

It isn’t.

He kisses her like he’s drowning.

She lets him, for one stolen second. Her mouth is soft, trembling against his. It tastes like rain and resignation. It tastes like everything they cannot have.

And when she pulls away, she doesn’t cry. She straightens her spine and smooths her coat and picks up the fallen folder.

“You should read the last page,” she says quietly.

He watches her leave, the echo of her boots fading like a prayer.

The door shuts behind her with a whisper.

In the silence that follows, Roy opens the folder.

Her handwriting, always crisp. Always clear.

If I don’t make it back, tell him I knew. Tell him I chose it anyway.

send me writing prompts

[dalandan012]

I'm pretty sure lots of other people in the scott pilgrim universe notice how scott and wallace share clothes together..... Like i know its a common thing mentioned by everyone in the fandom, but I'm genuinely interested in seeing how other characters react to it. Stacey Pilgrims is the first one to notice during their college years btw. She goes to the kitchen at 2am to get snacks and wallace is there wearing only scott's shirt and his boxers... "Did you have gay sex with my brother?" "No, but he did throw up on me." He asks stacey where the hangover pills are and just leaves the scene after

[dibbs-n-scribbs]

GUYS

caved and decided to watch the first ep of psych… it’s already peak

ITS SO GOOD?!?! THE PREMISE IS SO COOL AND THE DYNAMICS ARE ALREADY AMAZING

Possibly a top ten show just from the pilot alone, will keep y’all updated

[theworldofotps]

I Like You (Drabble)

Pairing: Hook x Reader Word Counter: 1,029 Prompt: ❛ i like you. a lot. like a lot, a lot. ❜ ❛ you’re important to me, you piece of shit. ❜ ❛ it terrifies me what i would do for you. ❜

@omg-im-such-a-masochist here's your prompt my love I hope it's close to what you were imagining! ________ Tag list: @omg-im-such-a-masochist @melissahausen​ @new-zealand-chic​ @writtingrose​ @99hook @sjwrites22​ @sassymox​ @mrsacklesevansmgk @xladyxfatex​ @adamcolesbaybay @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch​ @demonqueen29​ @itsicantbelievethis666​ @lilred91​ @rebellious-desires​ @claymorexpunisher @letsgivethisonemoreshot @ava-valerie @shortyiceheart​ @serpantscorpio8497​ @thatpanpal​ @thatnerdwriter @wrestlersownmyheart​ @vebner37​ @auburnwrites @aews-four-pillars​ @seeingstarks​ @whenimakeitshine1234​ @legit9thlunaticwarrior @blaquekitty​ @ironshamelessyouth​ @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin​ @ripleyswhore @moonrosekk @xbreezymeadowsx @elevennbloom @melblacc @alliwant456  @mcreignsera

If you wanna be added to the list lemme know ________ “Did you hear?”

“What?”

Y/n asks looking up from her phone after her friend Anthony sat down beside her on one of the work crates.

“Hook has a date with one of the new intern girls and I’m not sure if it’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because she was recommended to the company by Jericho, and you know he’s always trying to get some dirt on someone. I know you’re supposed to ask people questions when you try and get to know them, but her questions are intense.”

“Well, have you said anything to him about it?”

“You know he won’t listen to any of us that’s why the lads asked me if I would talk to you about it because maybe he would listen to you. After all you are one of the closet people to him apart from his dad.”

“So, in other words you want me to do your dirty work for you?”

She smiled watching as Anthony rubbed his cheek looking around the room before sitting down in the chair beside her.

“We tried to talk to him about it but he wouldn’t even give us the time of day about it just his usual fucking grunt and a blank stare. We just don’t want him to get hurt is all or have this woman fuck around with his feelings.”

“Have any of you bothered talking to the girl I mean the only thing you’ve said is her questions are kind of weird. That doesn’t mean she’s going to fuck Tyler over you can’t assume all woman interested in him are going to be bad.”

“You’re acting like I don’t know that you have feelings for him.”

“Shut up!”

Y/n hissed looking around to be sure that nobody overheard Anthony’s big mouth before turning her gaze back to him.

“Nobody else needs to know that least of all him, I’ll talk to him but I’m not going to just assume she’s after him for bad reasons.”

“Thanks, you’re the best text me how it goes.”

“Yeah yeah I will.”

Standing up Y/n throws her trash away than turns heading out the doors she figured that if Tyler wasn’t warming up somewhere; he was bound to be lurking around the hallways listening to his music. Walking around for a few minutes she pulled her phone out sending him a text.

‘Where are you?’

‘My dad’s locker room’

‘Can I come talk with you?’

‘Yep’

Pocketing her phone, she makes her way through halls and soon arrived in front of the door, giving a light knock she waited.

“Come on in y/n.”

“Hey thanks for giving me a few minutes to chat with you.”

She smiled poking her head in the door and closed it behind her after stepping inside, leaning against the door she watched as he moved around the room. Then patted the couch cushion beside him, y/n walked over sitting down and stretched her legs out.

“What’s up?”

“So, Anthony told me you had a date with one of the new interns.”

“Yep, I’m going out with her tomorrow night, he was trying to give me some hassle earlier, but I just ignored him.”

Tyler pushed the hair out of his eyes adjusting his hoodie then looked over at her.

“Is that why you’re here to give me some trouble?”

“No, I just wanted to come talk to you because he’s worried about you all the lads are and since you won’t hear him out. Anthony is hoping that you’ll at least be willing to hear me out about it although lord knows you don’t always listen to me when you should.”

“You guys are always on my ass when I’m planning on going out with someone, I know what I’m doing I’m not a child.”

“Nobody said you were, but your friends are concerned so the least you could do is at least hear them out a little. Anthony said that the woman was asking some weird ass questions and he’s just worried about you.”

“Look it’s fine I can handle myself y/n I don’t need to be looked after, beside you don’t see me jumping every time someone asks you out. So why can’t you just let me do my thing.”

Looking at him surprised by his sudden change in tone y/n’s eyes narrowed slightly as she huffed at him.

“Because you’re important to me you piece of shit.”

Y/n snapped as she stood up off the couch and started pacing back and forth.

“We care about you and we don’t want you getting hurt we care about you.”

“I know you do but it’s not a big deal, there’s no need to get so bent out of shape.”

“Oh my gods you really are dense I like you. a lot. like a lot a lot. And I just want to be sure you aren’t going to get hurt by anyone. I couldn’t stand the idea of you getting hurt by someone you may be emotionally invested in. It’s terrifies me what I would do for you, just please let us do what we need to try and keep you safe.”

Y/n ranted but stopped when he stared at her his eyes wide at her confession.

“You like me?”

“That’s what I just told you, now you go ahead and go on your date but at least hear Anthony out he’s one of your best friends.”

Tyler quickly got off the couch grabbing her arm when she turns to leave, she hadn’t meant to embarrass herself like that in front of him.

“So should I pick you up around seven?”

“What?”

“Anthony may have let it slip that you had feelings for me and so we cooked this up to see if you’d actually admit it.”

Tyler smirked pulling y/n against his chest and held her hips as she stared at him in shock as she tried to comprehend what he was saying.

“That little fucker.”

“So, is that a yes?”

“Mm just let me know how I need to dress, and I’ll see you then.”

Y/n smiled wrapping her arms around him their lips meeting in a soft kiss.

[delilahcalicocat]

Hi Delilah, can you please write a Hook x girlfriend/plus size reader fic where he keeps stealing her hoodies and wearing them out to the ring so she tries to take them back but he is having none of it 😀.

A/N: Yes. By the way PS means Plus-Sized!

{Give it Back!}

{Rating: Fluff}

{Warnings: Swearing}

{Pairing: Hook x PS!Fem!Reader}

It had been a few weeks, Hook had stopped wearing his hoodies in the place of yours.

You were a little fed up when he started wearing them to the ring.

Which you didn't let him do.

"What the fuck is he doing out there? Wearing my hoodie!?" You said.

You were a little embarrassed because the size of the hoodie. It fucking floated on HOOK.

That wasn't stopping him though. He wore It out to the ring on multiple occasions

Every one of your hoodies were in the wash. Since he kept wearing them.

So one time, you tried to take your hoodie back. Only for him to swat your hands away.

"Follow your own rules. Hands off my hoodie." He said

You gasped at that statement

"It's my Hoodie- not yours." You remarked

"I don't care. It's comfy and I will continue to fucking wear it to the ring." He sighed

You sighed and let him wear the hoodies, you were fighting a losing battle anyways.

[roachywoachy]

I got distracted from actual writing again.. uh, not mee.. this was supposed to be a prompt and is roughly the same kind of 'prompt' as the one I'm writing from at the moment.

Prompt writing is not for me.. this was originally from my note app so, have a drabble as I cry about Hook doing Prowl x10 because he definitely probably misses Scrapper because they were close because they are my favorites and Scrapper was a good leader.. crying x100

So I've been thinking.. Cave-in either early IDW where Scrapper still lives or G1 with cute little police bot Prowl. Not sure where–maybe cybertron or some random planet the Autobots and 'cons are fighting on.

Premise is, the constructicons were mining or something down underground and Prowl, Streetwise and whoever were sent to investigate what the ever loving hell the 'cons were doing digging that deep.

Cut forward there's a cave in after a few solar-cycles of ground tremors and shakes, after a few joors turns out Bonecrusher put his detonations down without calculating proper geographical components and the place goes down. Just so happens at the same time Prowl was in the deeper section where they were all congested and was now trapped with the huffy gestalt because of course one of the times 'Crusher blows himself a grave it's dragging all the gestalt under.

Transmissions couldn't get through due to the absolute ground mass, so Prowl was stuck and the gestalt was too busy digging themselves out of the mess they were dragged into and by time they all got their bearings in the tight section. They were barely low on energon but thankfully they were mining for energon, as little as there was.. Mixmaster would be able to stabilize the raw material to consume.

But Prowl had already seized their energon supply with the time he'd had to get his own bearings from having to drag himself out of a pile of rubble. Paint scratched and not looking his best, wing polish scratched down into the sensitive now bare metal of his doorwings that were quivering and needed a new coat soon before his overstimulated, achy frame got worse.

Already huffy when the constructicons came stumbling for their energon that–somehow–survived the demolitists' playtime. Holding his blaster up to the 6 heavy framed gestalt who were equally as beat from cycles of dragging eachother around under tons of rubble. Bonecrusher who took the hit the worse.

They didn't care about the investigative questions spewing from the weakened cop, barely stable himself as his pathetic show of using the energon against the 'cons was found amusing.

After all they were devestator, why should they be scared of some praxian who looked a whole lot worse than them? Whose wings were cut and sensitive to the slightest draft and leaking energon behind from where he had trailed from.

Their main priority wasn't the cop but energon, pushing past and eating down the last of their rations (the only stable energon as Mix couldn't mix until they rested)

Scrapper questioned the dazed cop who was on his aft in the same spot, the most inquisitive of the bunch wondering how the little frame survived.

Prowl was of course pressed that they hadn't even been a tad threatened, did he really look that bad? Sat off to the side, once realizing the dirty gestalt were more focused on downing energon and fixing their own wounds for now. Prowl found himself looking over his own damage in depth, completely seeing how much more of a wreck he was. And how cold he felt now that the adrenaline died down.

Only brought back to a hazy moment when he realized they were looking at him and Scrapper and Hook were speaking to the dizzy cop. The sheer ache in his doorwings hurt so bad he couldn't even feel it, distracting him from the potential danger of 6 'con frames of destruction lazing about.

Pulled out of his processor when a grounding servo prodded a dent in his arm, pulling away from the foreign touch. The medic, simply trying to check the damages when Prowl pulled back as best he could from their stares. Visors all on him.

Scrapper didn't seemed to notice though, kneeling infront of Prowl to get some information from him as Hook was almost force feeding the little amount of energon left over into his intake, grumbling about the mess of energon and how filthy every mech was.

After a few joors of half assed answers and being prodded by a crazy 'con medic that was definitely touching everything that hurt purposely, Scrapper having to drag the conversation back to how they just need to relax and they'll all make it out.. but why did they care about Prowl? Why were they helping him, if not for some gain? To keep as a prisoner of war? He'll have to bolt the second they get out.

After some time Prowl was being cleaned up by the grumbling medic whenever he'd need to restart a repair, Mixmaster and Scavenger who were sorting out their raw energon that they'd mined, along with Longhaul who was groveling about getting out of this pit. Bonecrusher was forced in recharge, having taken the worst of it all. Already patched up by Hook.

It was obvious there was another conversation going on, it was loud with how they hummed and verbally responded as they spoke through their gestalt bond.

When Hook got to Prowl's doorwings he'd seemed to pause, testing the raw metal that got him a scowl and doorwings quivering. The touch would've felt good if his wings weren't already cut through and bloody.

Scrapper helped Prowl for some reason.. Leaning the cop against his heavy chassis as Hook insisted albit harshly that Prowls doorwings needed to be patched up or risk infection or a medical procedure he didn't have the tools to do. So, forced to indluge the medic Prowl found his faceplate against the cold dirty metal of Scrapper, Hook on his backside organizing the little amount of equipment he'd had.

It hurt, the pain was excruciating to have his wings touched with no sort of covering or relaxant. Only straight onto the barest they could be, he didn't know when coolant spilled down his optics onto Scrappers chassis. All he could think about was escaping the pain, digits indenting into Scrappers hip.

Hook only paused when he'd finished wrapping a wound or Scrapper when had to shift the silent panting praxian. It had gone on for what felt like cycles, doorwings fluttering and quivering in thick servos. Occasionally soothing up and down his backstrut because they must've known Barricade was from Praxus aswell, probably had struggled with his own fair share of wounds with Hook who seemed experienced in the more sensitive spots.

After one wing was finished he was given a break, coolant still oozing against Scrapper. Laid almost limp across the larger mech who was speaking with Mix, Scrapper and Longhaul who came along to watch. It's not like they had anything better to do, and watching an autobot stifling sobs in the arms of one of their own? It was amusing to say the least.

After an entire solar-cycle of being tossed in and out of consciousness, numb pain and the excruciating frustration whenever Hook had gone to redo a spot because it wasn't perfect enough.

By the end of it Mixmaster had gotten enough energon processed to feed the half dead cop, oral lubricants and energon leaking from Prowl's intake from the attempted feeding. They had all gotten their own mounts of fuel in no time. Doorwings patched up but still need time to heal through. Leaving Prowl unable to transform until he was better, trapped in a hole with maniacs.. Great.

After passing out in a puddle of his own tears, thankfully they just left him off to recharge.. against Scrapper.. because of course, he couldn't exactly sleep on his backside without irritating freshly cleaned wounds, very very sensitive wounds.

This situation was completely in the left field, the 'cons had fixed his wounds, let him recharge with no more prodding and their teasing was kept to a limit. But then of course what good would he do a corpse, how long will it take to get out of this pit? Where's Streetwise.. Jazz?

[sirius-blacks-eyeliner]

Hi! So I have been writing for a little over a year (mostly drafts although I do have one story on wattpad which we do not speak of) and I've been a little lost recently. I hope that by writing oneshots, headcannons, drabbles etc. I might get inspired again to continue writing whole books.

So, I hope someone or some people might send me requests after I've posted this:))

I will be comfortable writing for:

Jasper Hale (twilight)

Rosalie Hale (twilight)

Emmett Cullen (twilight)

Legolas (Lord of the Rings)

Aragorn (Lord of the Rings)

Remus Lupin (Harry Potter, Maraunders era)

Sirius Black (Harry Potter, Maraunders era)

George Weasley (Harry Potter)

Steve Harrington (Stranger Things)

Tim Bradford (the Rookie)

Finnick Odair (The Hunger Games)

Soldier Boy(Ben) (The Boys)

Harry Hook (Descendants

Jon Snow (Game of Thrones)

Aegon II Targaryen (House of The Dragon)

Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

I might add or remove characters from this list as I go on, but this is it for now.

I am only comfortable writing x fem!reader or x gn!reader for most of these characters are male and I don't feel like I have enough experience with gay relationships between two men to write it correctly and I really don't wanna offend anyone with this! Besides that, you are free to request just about anything except for:

-rasicm, homophobia, sexism or discrimination

-anything harmful

-incest

-smut (at least not yet I feel I have to become a little more familiar with it first)

Please request things! I'm very eager to start writing and hope people will enjoy it when I do!!:))

I hope this picture of a cockroach makes you feel joy

[jokeringcutio]

Halloween requests!!! I've been vibing for pumpkin season since September 1st, so this is fantastic! I can't wait to see what Halloween horrors abound here 😍

Hook (Peter Pan 2003) x female reader

Smut: No preference, so whatever strikes your fancy

Reader is at a Halloween party and somehow ends up in Neverland? Bonus if Hook has something to say about her pirate costume (author's choice if it's in the style of big boxstore tacky, sexy, 'authentic', or what have you 🙃)

If you aren't up for the request, it's all good!

Captain James Hook (imagine Jason Isaac’s Hook) x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Halloween Party, Pirates, Kiss. AN: Hope you enjoy! I am open for Reader insert requests, come at me ya'll.

Halloween Pirate

The night was alive with the laughter and chatter of guests, their costumes creating a colorful sea through which you had to find your way. The Halloween party was in full swing, held within a grand ballroom adorned with cobwebs and flickering candles, casting eerie shadows upon those who danced beneath the crystal chandelier. Macabre decorations of skeletons and bats hung from the walls, pumpkins were found in each corner.

It was a party you couldn’t just attend without an invitation. And a costume. Those who weren’t dressed for the occasion were bluntly sent home. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in your own pirate costume. It was an ode to days long past, with loving attention paid to every detail, ensuring authenticity and capturing the spirit of a swashbuckling adventurer. From your tricorn hat adorned with golden trimmings to the billowing white shirt peeking out from underneath a deep red waistcoat, it was clear that no expense had been spared in the making of the ensemble. Your black pants hugged your hips, tucked into tall leather boots that comfortably encased your feet, perfect for dancing. Or dueling.

"Ahoy, matey!" a friend called out to you, raising their plastic lightsaber in salute. You grinned and returned the gesture, allowing yourself to be swept up in the lively atmosphere.

A fellow pirate approached you, clearly impressed by your attire. "You've really outdone yourself this time," they said admiringly, eyeing the gleaming cutlass hanging at your side.

"Thank you," you replied, your voice filled with warmth and genuine appreciation. "I wanted to make sure it was as authentic as possible."

As you exchanged pleasantries with other party-goers, you couldn't help but feel a certain thrill – a sense that tonight would be one to remember.

You danced a bit with your friends and laughed a lot. But after a while, you felt your mouth turn dry and looked around for the tables with food and drinks on them. Of course, the drink you had set your eyes on was gone. An empty spot glaring at you. There was more in the kitchen, one of the waitresses told you, and so you decided to venture into the kitchen for a drink.

You made your way through the crowd, which was quite the challenge, to find yourself in front of a closed door that should lead to the kitchen. Here you had seen the waiters pass through all evening with fresh snacks and drinks.

But the wooden door was closed.

Weird, you thought. The door wasn’t very big either, smaller than you had thought it had been. Hadn’t there been double doors here? You must have remembered it incorrectly.

Pushing it open with a sense of adventure, you stepped into an opulent chamber that seemed worlds away from the raucous celebrations outside.

"Wow," you breathed, your voice barely audible as you took in the lavish surroundings. The walls were draped in rich tapestries depicting exotic lands and mythical creatures, while the floor was adorned with plush velvet cushions and ornate rugs. An enormous chandelier cast a warm glow across the room, illuminating a magnificent table laden with delectable treats and goblets of sparkling wine.

"Where in the world am I?" you wondered aloud, feeling as if you had somehow been transported to a realm of enchantment and luxury.

As you wandered deeper into the room, your fingers trailing over the smooth marble of a nearby statue, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something strangely familiar about this place, as if you had stumbled upon a forgotten corner of your own imagination.

A large map spread across one of the walls. Curious, you approached it.

Only to realize that this wasn’t a world map. Not the one you were used to, anyway.

There was no Africa, no United States, no Europe. This was no ordinary map. Perhaps something of a fandom, you mused. Perhaps this was part of a storybook or a movie? It depicted a world unlike any you had ever seen before, a place where mermaids swam in crystal clear lagoons and pirates' coves lay hidden among rocky shores.

Absentmindedly, you traced your finger along the coastline of the fantastical island full of detail, more than you would have expected from a fantasy map. The word "Neverland" was emblazoned across the parchment in bold, swirling letters, and your heart skipped a beat as childhood memories of Peter Pan and his Lost Boys came flooding back to you.

"Neverland," you giggled softly, shaking your head. Of course, you knew about that fictional world.

"Ah, so you have heard of our little slice of paradise, haven’t you?" A husky, low voice came from behind you, catching you by surprise. The huskiness sent shivers down your spine. There was something raw about that voice, something that made a warmth spark in the pit of your stomach. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with none other than a man dressed as Captain Hook himself. He didn’t seem familiar, not anyone you’d ever met before. But he looked amazingly in character.

His piercing blue eyes seemed to bore straight into your soul, while his long black hair fell in seductive ringlets around his chiseled, stubble-lined jaw. He was dressed in the finest velvet, his tall hat adorned with soft white feathers that quivered with every movement. A silver hook gleamed menacingly from the stump of his right hand, a testament to both his ruthlessness and cunning.

"Captain Hook," you breathed, entranced by the vision before you. It was as if the infamous pirate captain had leaped straight from the pages of your favorite childhood storybook, brought to life in all his dark and twisted glory. This man’s costume was superb.

"Indeed," he replied with a wicked grin, stepping closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "So you have heard of me?” A pleased hum escaped his lips. “No wonder, since you are here.” He clicked his tongue, brushing the tip past his lips in a pensive gesture while he studied you for a moment.

“And who might you be, my dear? I don’t remember having seen you on my ship before."

You laughed, thinking the man made a funny in-character remark. The room did look like a luxurious cabin on a ship, you thought. And the man himself, he looked astonishingly like the real deal. Or well, like how you had imagined the captain would look like if he had been real. A perfect Halloween outfit, you thought.

“A fellow pirate?” He asked.

"Something like that," you replied coyly, your pulse quickening as his intense gaze roamed over your pirate costume. There was something undeniably alluring about this man.

"Your ensemble is quite remarkable," Hook complimented, his husky voice sending shivers down your spine. "One of the finest I've seen in some time."

"Thank you, Captain," you replied with a playful curtsy, enjoying the way his eyes remained fixed on you with a subtle undercurrent of attraction. "I do my best."

"Clearly," he murmured, stepping closer until the scent of leather and sea salt filled your nostrils. His presence was intoxicating, filling you with a heady mixture of excitement and danger, and you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. "Now tell me, lass—where exactly do you hail from?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" you teased, meeting his intense stare with a mischievous glint in your eye. The game had begun, and you were more than eager to play along.

"Indeed, I would," Hook replied, his tone growing rougher as he sensed your willingness to engage in this dance of wits. "Perhaps I could persuade you to share your secrets, hm?"

"Perhaps," you mused, your heart pounding in your chest at his nearness. "But I think I'd rather keep you guessing for now."

For a moment, the man’s features darkened. As if he was frustrated by your response. Then his lips curled into a wicked smirk. "Very well," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "But remember, a captain always needs to stay informed. About anything,” here he paused and his blue eyes slid down your frame once more, “and everything,” he then added.

"Of course," you whispered, your breath hitching as you felt the weight of his words settle in your chest. Was he implying what you thought he was? Surely not. But then again, his eyes roamed your body and had darkened.

And then, before you could think about it any further, his left hand brushed past yours, and fingers tangled with yours, pulling you along gently but firmly. You followed, trying not to stumble at the sudden movement.

The tension in the air was palpable as Captain Hook led you away from the strange map and into a dimly lit, quiet nook. The atmosphere seemed to shift. You felt your breath hitch as Hook pressed you against the wall, his body effectively trapping yours.

“And right now,” the man whispered in your ear, breath tickling your skin, “I have stumbled upon a stranger dressed in such fine clothes, it makes me suspicious. Can she be a spy?”

Your eyes grew wide, feeling how you were still trapped between his upper body and the wall. The slight pressure was enough to keep you in place and at the same time, the friction created was making your nipples peak. “No, not a spy,” you quickly said, frowning. “I was looking for the kitchen. I never intended to end up…” Here you hesitated and tried to look around the man. Was this an expensive-looking office? Where exactly had you ended up?

"Be a mysterious, lass," he murmured, his husky voice sending shivers down your spine. His gaze roamed over your outfit once more, this time lingering on the intricate details that made your pirate attire so authentic. "I must admit, I find myself quite taken with you."

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your eyes away from his piercing blue ones. As Hook's hand began to explore your body, tracing the curves and edges of your clothing, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and excitement. His touch was firm yet gentle, and the contrast between his warm fingers and the cool metal of his hook sent an electric current through your veins.

"Tell me," he said, his breath hot against your ear. "If I were to take off these fine garments of yours, would I find you just as enchanting beneath them?"

His words hung heavy in the air, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat. Was this man serious? Then again, why didn’t you even try so much as to stop him? How come you enjoyed this? He was a stranger!

Hook had always been a figure of mystery and danger in your mind, but never before had you imagined yourself in such an intimate situation with him. And yet, here you were.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" you managed to tease, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a risky game you were playing, but one you couldn't resist.

"Indeed, I would," he growled, his grip tightening on your waist. The pressure of his fingers and the sharp edge of his hook served as a reminder of his dominant nature, and you couldn't help but shudder at the thought of what he might do next.

"Perhaps," you continued, your heart racing in your chest. "But you'll have to earn that privilege, Captain."

Hook's eyes darkened with desire, and you knew you'd successfully stoked the flames of his curiosity. Whether that was a wise decision or not, only time would tell. But for now, you were both caught up in the dangerous dance of attraction, unable to break away from the magnetic pull that kept drawing you closer together.

"Very well," he whispered, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "Tell me a story.”

His request surprised you, his voice low and inviting. A story? About what?

"Alright," you agreed, laughing softly. "Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a girl who found herself at a Halloween party, dressed as a pirate..."

You began to spin a tale that danced between fantasy and reality, weaving together your own experiences with elements from stories you'd grown up with. As you spoke, you couldn't help but notice how intensely Hook was listening to you. His gaze never wavered, and you felt as if he was seeing straight through to your soul.

Feeling bolder, you reached out and let your fingers trace the intricate embroidery of his velvet coat, finding it surprisingly soft beneath your touch. Not the fancy dress material, you noted, but the expensive real deal. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, gauging his reaction. He didn't pull away, instead, his lips curled into a slight smile, encouraging you to continue.

"Go on," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the gentle hum of the party in the distance.

Emboldened by his response, you allowed your hands to wander further, exploring the taut muscles beneath his clothing. The contours of his body sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself both fascinated and excited by what you discovered. The dangerous undertone to your actions only served to heighten the thrill, making your pulse race wildly in your chest. Whoever this stranger was, he was well-built, making your core pulse hot and wet. You knew you should stop before things got too far, but why stop now when feeling him up was bringing you such pleasure? You deserved a little bit of fun every now and then, didn’t you? And this man was fun. At the very least, he was exactly the type of man you had dreamed of. And he wanted to be touched by you. How often have you had a chance like this?

Hook's breathing grew heavier as your fingertips grazed over his chest, the feeling of desire clearly mutual. His striking blue eyes darkened with lust, locked onto yours as if daring you to push the boundaries even further.

"Interesting," he commented, his voice husky and thick with unspoken need. "But how does your story end?"

"Perhaps it doesn't have to end just yet," you suggested, your voice trembling with anticipation. You were playing with fire, but you couldn’t resist. A tad longer, you thought, just a bit more. Enjoy it as long as it lasts…

You felt your fingers trail down the curve of his shoulder, every inch of him a testament to power and danger. The tension in the air thickened as you brushed against the fabric encasing his arm, your mind racing with the excitement of the unknown. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn't help but wonder if he could feel it too.

"Careful," Hook warned, his voice low and almost playful. "There's more to me than meets the eye."

"Isn't that true for everyone?" you replied, curiosity guiding your hand further down his arm. When your fingertips grazed over something cold and metallic, you hesitated, your pulse quickening.

"Ah, you've found my little secret," he murmured, his eyes darkening as they held your gaze. "Would you like a closer look?"

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from the gleam of metal. As he slowly raised his arm, you realized with a start that what you had felt was not a mere ornament or accessory. It was his hook, glistening silver and wickedly sharp.

It was real.

And its presence sent shivers down your spine. Because this was more than just a fancy dress item. This was more than a costume. The hook was attached with expensive-looking leather straps. Too glorious to have been crafted for a Halloween feast. Perhaps he had played the part somewhere else, you wondered. But an eerie feeling settled in the pit of your stomach that there was only one explanation for why this hook looked so real and so sharp.

This man truly had no hand.

And this hook was truly a replacement for it, sturdy and made to last all the wear and tear of ordinary day life.

"Your... your hook..." you stammered, your wide eyes shifting between the deadly weapon and his piercing blue gaze. "It's real."

Hook grinned, a sinister edge to his smile that made your heart race even faster. "Of course, darling," he purred, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I am Captain Hook, after all."

In that instant, the line between fantasy and reality blurred. You were struck by the powerful realization that this man, this pirate, might be more than a man in a costume. He was alive, dangerous, and undeniably captivating.

“You seem surprised,” he murmured, “You weren’t a moment ago. What changed?”

Unable to find words, you stared at him, lips parting and closing like a fish.

"Does it frighten you?" Hook asked, his voice laced with a dark and seductive undertone that made it impossible to look away while he twisted and turned the hook in front of your face. You had no other choice but to watch the cold metal up close, see the sharp tip glisten in the light of the lamps.

You hesitated, but then your eyes met his hypnotic blue ones. A strange sense of resolve washed over you.

"Maybe," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I think... I think I like it."

Hook's grin widened, and for a brief moment, you could have sworn you saw a flash of genuine admiration in his eyes. "Well then," he said softly, as if sealing an unspoken pact between you. "Close your eyes," he instructed, his breath warm against your ear. Obediently, you allowed your eyelids to flutter shut, surrendering yourself to him completely.

And then, suddenly, you felt his lips on yours, soft and insistent, claiming you as his own. The kiss was like nothing you'd ever experienced before, a dizzying blend of passion and tenderness that left you breathless and aching for more. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, losing yourself in the intoxicating taste of him.

As the two of you kissed, warmth spread through you, making your skin tingle. This man was a good kisser, you thought. Too good to be true. Your knees turned to jelly and you were grateful to be wearing such sturdy boots or you might have melted into a puddle.

When at last you broke apart, your chest heaving with the effort of catching your breath, you opened your eyes to find Hook smirking down at you, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"I think I know the ending to your tale,” he whispered, his fingers tracing a delicate pattern along your jawline. "And they lived happily ever after,” a soft whisper that sent goosebumps down your skin.

Then he started to laugh, his grip on you tightening as he pulled you in close. Then he cut off his own laughter by pressing his lips against yours once more in a demanding and sensual kiss that made you see stars.

“I suppose you are mine now,” the captain mumbled once the kiss was broken. “After all, you are on my ship. And you know what they say, finders keepers.”

You wanted to laugh, wanted to say how silly that idea was, even though you felt flattered that he wanted to keep you. But then the wooden door through which you had come opened and a new man appeared. A sailor. Mr. Smee. He looked shocked, probably just as shocked as you. Because behind the sailor you didn’t see the ballroom you had left only minutes ago. Instead, you saw and heard the sloshing sea. Rambunctious pirates walked the deck. Seagulls flew overhead. And the very real and very cool metal hook was now near your throat, lovingly bringing you in for another kiss, when you realized, this was no mere man dressed in a costume to attend a party.

This Captain Hook was real.

~*~

AN: Out of 10, how screwed are you? Or… how much will you screw? . . . if you want to show me some support, why not buy me a virtual drink and help me buy new glasses in real life :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all