synopsis:
↳ when harry meets y/n bell, the son of captain hook finally understands what falling in love feels like; gentle, chaotic and understanding
genre:
↳ fluff, slow burn, soulmate au, slight angst, enemies to lovers, head cannons
featuring:
↳ harry hook x daughter of tinker bell!reader
↳ mal, evie, jay, carlos, uma, gil
warnings / notes:
↳ request
↳ 1008 words
↳ please do not copy, translate or repost any of my works anywhere.
— the mark that shouldn’t exist
It starts like most disasters on Auradon Prep’s campus—too many opinions and too little patience.
Harry doesn’t like her immediately which was his first mistake.
You were arguing with him over something stupid—something about a stolen necklace, wings twitching every time he interrupts you.
You’re sharp, precise, and annoyingly calm in a way that makes him want to be louder just to balance it out.
Then it happens.
A mark burns onto his wrist mid-argument, matching the one that flashes faintly on your own.
Silence dropped between the two of you like a cannon hitting the ocean surface.
“...No,” Harry says instantly.
You stare at it like it personally offended you. “This is fake.”
“It’s not.”
“Absolutely not.”
You both agree on one thing: this is a mistake.
A cosmic typo.
A clerical error from the universe.
Except it isn’t and that’s the problem.
— “don’t talk to me, ever”
After that, you both develop a very mature coping mechanism: ignoring each other aggressively.
Harry starts taking longer routes through Auradon Prep and you start leaving rooms right after he enters.
When you do end up in the same space, it’s pure tension.
No words needed, just vibes, bad ones.
The worst part? Your marks get warmer whenever you’re near each other.
Harry calls it “magic nonsense,” and you call it "scientific nonsense.”
Neither of you call it what it actually is: annoying.
— accidentally saving each other
It’s not intentional, and that’s what makes it worse.
Someone corners you after a council meeting—too many old Isle prejudices slipping through polite Auradon smiles and Harry steps in before he even thinks about it.
“Walk away,” he says, voice low.
They do.
Later, you find him alone on the docks, rubbing his wrist like it burns and without a word, you heal a shallow cut on his hand from earlier training.
He looks at you like he wants to say something but doesn’t.
Instead, he says, “You owe me.”
You snort, “For what?”
“Existing near me.”
It’s not flirting.
It’s not not flirting.
And that’s the problem.
— “stop looking at me like that”
Gil notices first, “...you’re staring again.”
“I am not.”
“You were literally mid-conversation with me and still looking at her.”
Harry denies it immediately, his voice loud, too loud but he is staring.
Because you laugh sometimes—small, real laughs when you’re not fighting him and it hits him like a shipwreck he didn’t see coming.
You notice him too.
The silence between you changes, less sharp and more aware.
And Harry?
Harry starts hating how soft his chest feels when you're around.
He does not like softness, because softness is dangerous.
— “you’re doing that thing again”
The first jealousy incident is stupid.
Some prince from another class starts talking to you during a study session, nothing serious, just smiling too much.
Harry doesn’t even realize he’s walking over until he’s standing between you and the guy.
“Problem?” you asked, crossing your arms.
He shrugs, “He looked lost.”
“I was helping him.”
“He looked too happy about it.”
You squinted, “Are you jealous?”
Harry laughs immediately, “No.”
A pause.
“...Why would I be jealous?”
But he didn’t leave, and when the guy finally does, Harry stays standing there like he forgot how to move.
Later, Uma casually goes, “You’re down bad.”
Harry almost falls off a bench.
— “sit down before i lose it”
It’s Mal who finally ends it.
Her, Evie, Jay, Carlos, Uma, and honestly half the campus gets tired of watching the emotional warfare.
So they trap the two of you in a room with no escape.
Harry immediately tries the door, “This is kidnapping.”
“It’s intervention!” Evie calls back.
Inside, it’s silent again, thick and heavy.
You finally break the silence, “You’re avoiding me.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“You stood between me and a conversation for no reason.”
“...He was smiling too much.”
You blink, “Oh my god.”
Harry realizes that it’s too late to take back what he said.
Dead silence, then you laugh and he realizes that it’s over for him.
— “oh no”
It hits him in stages:
He thinks about you too often
Gets annoyed when your not around
Gets even worse when you are around
And he starts memorizing your habits without meaning to
Then one night, he sees you laughing with your friends, wings glowing faintly in the sunset light.
And his brain goes:
Oh.
Oh no.
He is not just “slightly interested.”
He is cooked, fully roasted.
Uma calls it out immediately after, “You look like you’re one conversation away from proposing or fighting someone.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I hate you.”
Though he doesn’t stop smiling.
— “say it properly”
It happens after everything simmers too long.
Another argument, of course.
Words get sharper, voices get quieter, and that dangerous kind of silence spreads.
Then Harry stops.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he says.
You don’t move, “Do what?”
“This.” he gestures vaguely between the two of you. “You.”
That lands.
He exhales, “You make everything…loud in my head and I hate it.”
You soften slightly, “That’s not exactly romantic, Hook.”
“I’m not good at this.”
A pause.
Then quieter.
“I think I like you, and I don’t know what to do with that.”
Silence.
Then you step closer, “Finally.”
“Finally?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”
— the date
Harry tries. He really does.
He plans something “proper,” a candlelight vibe, structured and predictable.
It lasts five minutes.
You drag him out halfway through.
And you both end up on rooftops, stealing snacks, watching the island skyline where Isle and Auradon blur into something new.
Harry keeps pretending he’s annoyed.
He is not.
At one point, you lean onto his shoulder and he freezes like his brain blue-screened.
“You good?” you ask, voice soft.
“…Yeah.”
He is not good.
He is terrifyingly happy.
— don’t make it weird
It’s another argument.
Of course it is.
Something stupid and something neither of you remembers later.
Then it just…stops making sense.
You look at him like you’re tired of words.
Harry steps closer like he forgot fear exists.
“You’re impossible,” he mutters.
“You’re worse.”
“…Probably.”
Silence again.
This time, neither of you fills it.
The kiss happens like a decision neither of them verbally agrees to but both commit to anyway.
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a/n: so idk why im hyperfocused on this character rn, haven’t watch the movies in years and yet i just wanna write for him now 😪honestly idk what this even is, don’t read if you don’t like as always
cw: freak shit, biting (obvi), dog references (idk how i ended up here but it fit), teasing, suggestive (SFW).
loves you to all hell, especially because of your quirks.
when he first noticed your little pattern of biting him (or random things), he found it so cute, cause he knew you didn’t do it out of harm, but love, you never bit him hard enough to make it hurt, even if he personally hoped you would sometimes. (freak)
one time before you two got together, he used his hook to tilt your chin up teasing you about something, honestly he doesn’t even remember what it was about anymore because all he really remembers was how you bit down on the curve of his hook like a wild dog tugging on its toy while glaring at him, he froze in awe, knowing he’d like you way more than expected.
you always having small indents on your fingers cuz you keep chewing on your knuckles whenever deep in thought.
you biting onto his bicep whenever you’re cuddling, making him giggle when you do so.
after some time, your little habit starts to rub off on him as well, and he starts giving you some love bites whenever the opportunity presents itself to him.
you always remember to kiss the bite marks whenever you’re done, which makes him extremely giddy. (my guy gets cuteness aggressions so bad)
he wears your bite marks out with pride, always smirking like he’s the hot shit whenever people stare at the several bite marks or hickeys all i’ve his neck, shoulders, and arms.
him randomly just giving you his hand when he sees that you’re stressed so that you can nibble on his fingers a bit. (knowing how sore your own hands get from constantly gnawing on them yourself)
LOVES it when you bite his lip when making out, kissing almost becomes like a dog fight with you two, not in the nasty gory way, but in the way poems goes on about love.
if you were to get hurt really bad (whether it be from a sword fight or simply a nasty fall causing your joint to pop), he’d let you cling onto him and bite into his shoulder as your injury were to be fixed, one time while pushing your knee (or something) back into place, you bit him so hard from the pain that he started to bleed, which made you panic of course, but he only comforted you saying it’s okay, all the while he secretly found it super attractive but wouldn’t admit it in that moment.
if he ever heard someone talk badly about your habit he would kind of lose it, in a quiet smiling way, like some random guy would judge you behind your back and comment that you “should be put in a muzzle” to “fix their problem” and “what are they? a fucking dog?”, Harry would just tightly smile at them as he’d talk in a low quiet tone, “maybe it’s ye i should throw in the dog cages, let them strey hounds have their slop early huh?” he’d put his hook onto their shoulder and lean closely to their ear “talk like that and you’ll lose yer tongue around here..” he’d just glare coldly, freaking out the guy enough for them to blabber out all the apologies as they ran.
so yeah, i guess you could say that he’s protective of you and all your little quirks no matter how strange they might be, because he loves you so much, just the way you are.
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word count: not nearly enough, it's a formulated thought
“So she’s definitely taken?” Harry hadn’t ever imagined those words being directed towards Mal, of all people, but apparently a moment as grand as this can paint a person in a whole new light.
“Definitely,” Evie says as she watches her best friend being paraded around. Harry turns his head, oddly close to the blue haired girl as they stare at each other, the latter looking at him with a small smile before her boyfriend steps in.
“So is Evie, by the way,” he reminds him.
“Hey!” Uma gives the pirate a hard jab to the side, looking up at him. “What’s my name?”
He’s still for a good half a second before answering in the same tone he always did, looking into his eyes.
“Uma,” he said naturally, misreading the situation so badly that he actually leans in to kiss her, to which she curls her nose up, shrinking back and hurrying to put distance between them sooner than later.
She’d kiss her mother’s evil pet eels before she even went near Harry.
Evie and Doug take off with Uma, moving into the large mass of people crowded around the future queen of Auradon, leaving Harry to stand on his own with an awkward stance.
His hands go to rest in his pockets when he hears nearby voices.
“Audrey, no, no, don’t you dare-!” Whoever was talking didn’t get a chance to finish as they spluttered from the impact of whatever force they had received.
Harry’s quick reflexes make themselves useful when, grabbing whoever was millimeters away from slamming into him by the waist, blue eyes locking with wide ones.
“Oh-!” you both say at the same time, laughing at the unplanned unison before taking a few steps back when he’s sure that you’re steady on your feet.
“My bad,” you sheepishly make the next move, embarrassment evident in your posture.
“Yer fine,” he assures, giving you a wide grin that’s too contagious to not reciprocate.
Extending your hand, you introduce yourself, “(Y/n).”
He takes your hand so delicately, bringing it up to his lips. “Harry Hook.”
The gentlemanly gesture brings you an unforeseeable warmth, so much so that it gives you the courage to ask, “...You seem lonely. Do you wanna come dance with me?”
Harry contemplates your offer, absolutely wanting to, but there’s just a small obstacle, however.
“...I don’ really know how ta dance.”
You snort in response, squeezing his hand and pulling him with you into the crowd.
