Falling Stars and Whispers
Summary: Killian Jones/Hook takes care of you on the Jolly Roger. Though you feel sick at sea, you have just the right captain to aid you ever so gently.
🗡️A wholesome little blurb because I, myself am currently sick 💔
🗡️Hook x fem! Reader | Fluff | Comfort
It was often that you decided to sail the Jolly Roger with Hook; going on small, unimportant adventures together when there happened to be time for them.
Whether is was broad daylight or the blackest night filled with dull stars; dawn or dusk, you adored being alone with him in the middle of the sea - if you were to be swallowed by the deep blue, you wouldn’t mind if it were with him.
Him; and his teases and flirts, or his odd sense of humor that flows so naturally from his accented voice…or the underlying softness to him that you’re convinced he tries to conceal but fails horribly at doing so.
When you began showing signs of a weakening illness, Hook had taken notice instantly. You weren’t the type to get sea sick…
He pulled you away gently from the ship’s edge; hand on your shoulder.
“Love, you alright?”, he asked quietly, his brows furrowed slightly in concern. The sounds of water lapping against the ship were the only response he got before a groan of discomfort from your lips.
You held onto his arms, refusing to look anywhere but your feet.
“What do you feel?”, he urged with a gentle squeeze to your shoulder, tilting his head down in attempt to look your face. “Are you seasick all of a sudden?”
“U-uh..I don’t think so..”, you quaked under your breath. “I feel feverish and lightheaded…”
Quivering, you grasp onto him tightly and shut your eyes, leaning your head in toward his chest with a hushed and sickened moan.
You awake only about a half an hour later in Hook’s bed; the photos on the wall of his cabin rocking slowly with the gentle sway of the ship.
You took in your surroundings rather quickly, despite your slightly hazy vision; the tables and knick-knacks and other treasures of his decorating his room…,Hook sitting at the edge of the bed, holding a cold, dampened rag to your forehead.
Seeing your eyes flutter open as you stir brought a small smile of relief to his face. “You’re burning up quite a bit…”, he remarks, “I wouldn’t be too shocked if you told me you’d taken a quick nap on the bloody sun.”
You manage a weak smile in response to his tease, and shake your head. “I don’t know how I got it..” you murmur, that smile fading slightly.
Looking down at you, he held such a fondness and adoration in his eyes, you’d think he needs you like he needs breathing.
“That’s alright, love..”, he proses with a hushed tone, gently sliding the rag away to thumb over your heated forehead. “I have tea for you when you’re ready.”
Leaning down slowly to plant a kiss on the bridge of your nose, he brings up his other arm to gingerly brush your hair back with his hook.
And with that alone, it was like he’d hushed you back into a dazed dreamland burning with falling stars and whispers.
