Another OTP of mine is Wendy (adult, of course) and Captain Hook. A friend of mine told me this drawing looks like an illustration for a fic, but alas, it's not.:D If anyone wishes to use it as a cover for their Darling Hook fanfiction, you are actually welcome (credit is nice). And I always welcome reading recommendations for this ship (or any other fav ship of mine), do tell me if you have a favourite fanfic about them.

Wendy Darling and Captain Hook (c) James Barie (I still haven't read the book oh my!); Peter Pan 2003 movie, Rachel Hurd-Wood and Jason Isaacs Media: hand-drawn pencil, scanned, and painted in Clip Studio Paint

Darling x Hook

JASON ISAACS as CAPTAIN JAMES HOOK in PETER PAN (2003) 

“You die alone, and unloved…. Just like me.”     - Captain Hook, Peter Pan (2003)

A little bit darker than I’ve done before ⚔️

Or is it? Interpret it how you want, me hearties ✨

Rondel Gonzalez - Shadows of Neverland

Thinking about Jason Isaac’s uncomfortably attractive Captain Hook, and I think it makes some sense if you think of how closely it comes from Wendy’s imagination (not that she’s making it up, but her imagination is clearly the source of a lot of it.) Wendy is excited and scared by the idea of a handsome evil man, and she’s not really sure what she wants from it. A mentor? A boyfriend? An enemy? She’s not entirely sure, so neither is the spirit of Neverland.

peter pan (2003)

Darling Hook fanfic: Red Hands by zapples

“Good form today.”

“What?” 

Wendy could barely hear him above the roar of the pirate’s applause. They were too wound up from the battle to enjoy a fairytale, so she had told them about Jack The Ripper, and it had been extraordinarily well received. She closed the door to the Captain’s Quarters quietly, and they sounded like the muffled ocean outside.

“I said good form.” 

He sat on his piano chair, facing her with a grin. He was right. She had been excellent that day, moreso even than usual. Vicious, unstoppable. Half the battle in fighting the Lost Boys, she had found, was in not underestimating them. As soon as you thought of them as children, hesitated before swinging your blade, or let your guard even halfway down for a moment, they would gut you and throw you overboard. But once you treated them as legitimate enemies, they could be overpowered.

She had had a dream the night before, one she’d had several times before, although thankfully not for some time. In it, she was back home, abandoned in her starched blue skirts, forgotten while her mother primped and prepared her for a life she never wanted. Her bedroom window swung open and empty, and her salvation never came. So when she woke the next morning to a cavalcade of monstrous children landing on their upper deck and stabbing her crew, the ship’s resident storyteller joined in the fight with abandon. She had chosen her side long ago, and when the fire in her heart was put in a specific direction, she was loyal to a bitter fault.

Wendy reached behind her head and tore loose her ribbon, letting a waterfall of brown curls tumble over her shoulders. The captain watched her, silently appraising. She didn’t blush. That was for ladies, and she had decided to put that sort of thing behind her. She sat on an overstuffed, ornate armchair next to him and looked pointedly at the piano.

“Your swordwork improves every day.” 

She shrugged it off with a casual smile, though her heart swelled at his praise.

“Will you play for me?” she asked.

He tossed the tails of his red coat behind him dramatically and shook out his sleeves, starting a slow, sweet melody in the melancholy minor chords. His playing was really very beautiful, despite his obvious handicap. His working hand flowed over the keys like wind over water, and the hook anchored the melody in low, steady notes. He played carefully, but artistically and with focused intensity. The same way he fenced, and kissed, and killed, and spoke. Like he had been classically trained but preferred to bend the rules. She closed her eyes, feeling the melody lift and sway with the rocking of the ship.

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Read the rest of the story here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17677904

something gentle

Darling Hook modern AU

“the pirate and the girl 2″ by  audreymolinatti (x)

Captain James Hook moodboard

“In person he was cadaverous and blackavized, and his hair was dressed in long curls, which at a little distance looked like black candles, and gave a      singularly threatening expression to his handsome countenance. His eyes      were of the blue of the forget-me-not, and of a profound melancholy, save      when he was plunging his hook into you, at which time two red spots      appeared in them and lit them up horribly. In manner, something of the grand seigneur still clung to him, so that he even ripped you up with an air, and I have been told that he was a raconteur of repute. He was never more sinister than when he was most polite, which is probably the truest test of breeding; and the elegance of his diction, even when he was swearing, no less than the distinction of his demeanour, showed him one of a different cast from his crew. A man of indomitable courage, it was said that the only thing he shied at was the sight of his own blood, which was thick and of an unusual colour. In dress he somewhat aped the attire associated with the name of Charles II, having heard it said in      some earlier period of his career that he bore a strange resemblance to the ill-fated Stuarts; and in his mouth he had a holder of his own contrivance which enabled him to smoke two cigars at once. But undoubtedly the grimmest part of him was his iron claw.“

J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan and Wendy (Chapter 5, The Island Come True)

Disclaimer: those images don’t belong to me.

When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it.

Caitlyn Siehl, from Start Here (via megairea)

Fanart by Vangelia (x)

Darling Hook fanfic: A window standing open by Unusualpairings

"What is this?" Wendy whispered softly, feeling bold as she let her forefinger come to rest on the warm skin of Hook's upper arm. Below her finger lay a large and familiar tattoo of a crest she knew of well.

"Why, my uncle went to school there!" Wendy said in outright shock, her eyes searching the Captain’s, and her hand still upon his muscled arm. "You were a student of Eton College?"

Hook's face blanched at this and he pulled back from her, covering his arm the best he could, pulling on his shirt quickly, making sure his eyes did not trail to where she sat. Wendy watched as the pale blue eyes of her captor went into a frenzy of panic before clouding in doubt. It was right then; Wendy knew that there was a past to James Hook, a past that he desperately wanted hidden.

"I don't exactly remember." Hook said almost dazed, "it comes and goes."

"Don't lie." Wendy urged, her eyes twinkling in curiosity. "Please, tell me the truth."

The two of them looked to one another, their eyes locked as they both stood their ground. They were both flushed, and Wendy's lips were reddened and swelling from the kisses Hook had taken from her moments beforehand.

"Yes," Hook finally relented firmly. "I attended Eton. It was the finest school in all of London, and my parents were insistent that I graduate from there, just as my father had, and his father before that. It was tradition for the men in my family, and they do bear the same crest upon their shoulder."

"Go on," said Wendy encouragingly, almost in awe at the fact that she was uncovering the secret to Hook's past. It was as if he was transforming right before her, turning into a real flesh and blood man instead of the childhood nemesis she told stories of.

"I graduated with highest honors, and was offered many teaching positions. But I didn't wish to end up as some aged old professor that my peers and I had before taken great joy in mocking. I could not," at this Hook's eyes searched Wendy's. "You see, I did not wish to grow up for good."

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Read the full story here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6109508/chapters/14003096