It was a late evening on the isle and you were walking down a alleyway. You were the daughter of the queen of heart. He was the son of Captain Hook. You two did not get along. He was tall, muscular, black shaggy hair, blue eyes and a Scottish accent that could swoon any women.

As you walked down the alleyway you felt someone come up behind you and grab you by the arm. You furrowed your brows as you went to turn around and swing at whoever was trying to grab you, before you felt cold metal pressed lightly against your neck. A hook. His hook. You looked up and met his gaze, with that stupid smirk of his.

“Ah, ah, ah. You wouldn’t hit me now would you?”

he said in a tease with his thick Scottish accent. You two were always at each other’s throats.