#jacks captain ofc

[walkman-cat]

could I request something Davey?

ive had my star trek au on the brain wbwbwb so here’s davey in the au (he’s taking spot the cat off the bridge) (im so sorry it’s not regular davey wbwbw)

[o-sunny-day]

Bro does NOT have his whole life ahead of him

Bro IS bamboozled

Taken aback

(Milk AMV wip)

WOULD YOU GUYS BELIEVE ME IF I SAID IM IN THE CLEAN UP STAGE???

the progress has been slow- but luckily itll speed up a LOT with Winter Break. still dont feel good giving a specific release date but like.. uhh… FINE, January 1st.

Better be done before then, if not, ill prolly just show the animatic or somethin cause clearly id have given up- IM NOT GONNA FOR THIS THOUGH IM TOO HAPPY WITH THE ANIMATIC NOT TO CONTINUE!!!!

whats that?

I said thered be no more wips?

uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I lied.

Im impatient with myself

[the-blackened-pearl]

i finally cracked the code on my person interpretation of jack-elizabeth. allow alder to indulge in a midnight ramble.

for me, it's the metaphor. how elizabeth is constrained by societal rules and regulations, and the INSTANT jack shows up BOOM- she's playing the pirate game now. she's offered a tantalizing glimpse of the thing jack himself embodies- freedom.

we even see that after CotPB, she does not hesitate in using pirate tactics to get what she wants- such as letters of marque for will (aka, freedom-).

which makes elizabeth leave jack to the kraken interesting. she allows freedom embodied to be locked up, and almost instantly joins the team in getting him back.

not to mention that jack is the one who voted her in as King. elizabeth swann has been longing for freedom, and freedom himself grants her power- even over himself, if you will, but that's the thing-

jack's not one to let anybody control him. just like how elizabeth uses the power he gave her against him, he's not going to just accept that he technically answers to someone now.

also that scene in the locker where jack freezes as soon as he sees elizabeth. and immediately scampers over to gibbs, who confirms that yes, this is all real. elizabeth- the one who left him for dead- is real. there's something to be said there about freedom something something i am not able to articulate it atm rip

i'm not into the romantic interpretation of their relationship myself, but i get why people are. me tho i wanna study this weird, wacky, fucked-up friendship under a microscope. for science. it's an aro thing, i suspect.

[crimsonrae]

Vexation

I have missed you all! It has been a minute since I've posted here, but I feel like Tumblr is the place to put this piece - for now. I haven't had much time recently to do as much writing as I would like, but I was perusing old outlines and ideas and stumbled upon one from ages ago for Pirates of the Caribbean. Suddenly, my muse woke up and I wrote close to twenty pages in three days.

Premise: Basically, this is a what-if for Captain Jack Sparrow. What if during the first three movies he had someone that vexed him. His version of a wife because he can't do anything normal.

The scene written below is set during Dead Man's Chest, after the Brethren Court convened. Be advised it's long.

I would like to know what you all think. I have four other scenes for this all waiting to be flushed out and would welcome any thoughts or critiques.

Mildly horrified and entirely exasperated, Jack wasn’t even sure grief could sink into his measly guts as he watched Teague tuck the shrunken head of his mother away. Mostly because he wasn’t even sure that was his mother and that his father hadn’t completely lost his marbles. He wouldn’t put it past his mother to have such a thing delivered to Teague if the two were on the outs again.  

And people wondered why he was so mad, look at what he sprang from...Christ’s Blood. 

It was almost like another Tuesday; this is what being back on the Cove did to him... No, that wasn’t quite right, this is what being near any of his family did to him. 

Dull amusement began to seep in as the lingering implications of Teague carrying that head around began to settle. 

 Jack smiled as he gestured awkwardly to his father’s coat, “Not a bad way to startle the grandkids.”  

Teague smirked as he quietly admitted, “Already have. Your woman only let me do it once to little Rosie. Done it a few to the boy - I think Rosie handled it better.” 

Jack snorted unsurprised by his family antics. Rose more than likely took the shrunken head to be a new strange doll. Jonah was old enough to know better. He did wonder when Teague had made the time to stop in on them. 

“They’re here. Up in the Alley.” Teague murmured lightly as if sensing his son’s thoughts, fingers strumming gently at his guitar. 

“What!” A sharp flash of surprise lit Jack’s dark eyes before he masked it behind something that Teague couldn’t quite read. Worry if he had to guess and confirmed as Jack quietly growled, “You brought ‘em here?” 

Teague bit back a sigh as he gave his son a pointed look, “Wasn’t intending on it... Honestly, still puzzlin’ out how Quinn talked me into their passage aboard. I had told her no.” 

“She likely just ignored you.” It's what she did when they had been children. Jack rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath about devious strumpets. He felt sick. They weren’t to be here; he never would have made that deal with Beckett otherwise.  

He needed to see to preparations for his ship before Barbossa got too far in his ego thinking he was captain of the Pearl again, but he would make time to see his children and he had a bone to pick with his woman. His hearted lifted a bit...she was here. 

It was only as he lurched away from his father that Teague called out to him, “Go easy on her, Jackie. She’s been through the gamut.” 

Jack nearly scoffed.  

He hadn’t? 

He had been swallowed by a bloody gigantic cephalopod and trapped in Davy’s Locker with stony crabs and far – far too much time with his thoughts. Besides he didn’t bloody remember her being present to save him.  

Admittedly, Jack knew that last uncharitable thought was unfair – he would not have been happy to see her in the Locker. Not when they had their two little treasures to protect, and he was well aware that the onus of that responsibility fell to her.  

Which was why he wasn’t terribly happy on her being here now.  

Despite being a fortress, Shipwreck Cove, the city, and its inhabitants would be raided should the Pirate Lords fail in their endeavor to stop Beckett and Jones. It was the last place he wanted Quinn and the children to be.  

It was with clear intent and purpose that Jack made his way back to the Pearl. Gibbs and Marty would have a head for what was already on board, and they would have to make do with what supplies they could get in the city. Jack could only hope that word had spread already of what was afoot and that the shopkeepers would keep any wily haggling to a minimum – of course, a few would see the coming battle as a golden opportunity to gouge their prices.  

Barbossa was already issuing orders when Jack stepped aboard, but he paid his former first mate and current rival little mind. The brunt of the crew was paying him more attention anyway as he asked a few carefully plotted questions before heading to his cabin for parchment and quill. Barbossa hadn’t spent near as much time on the Cove as Jack had... none of his crew had really, but there were a couple that were familiar with the city’s workings. It would have to be enough. 

Jack tagged a few more orders onto Barbossa’s before snagging a handful of the crew to head into the city. A list of merchants and an inventory of necessities in hand, he passed instructions onto his little group and watched as they dispersed to follow orders. They would be back on ship by the time he was done with his own errands.  

-----

He was stepping out of Doc Nessa’s shop when he felt the familiar glance of a small body skimming his hip. He didn’t even think as his fingers grasped the back of a well-loved shirt and tugged the body inside around. A pair of familiar dark eyes far too intelligent to belong to a child, but in fact did, regarded him.  

A wild thrill of amusement coursed through his gut, though Jack was careful not to show it as he returned his son’s indifferent regard, “Need to be quicker than that, lad. Hand it over.” 

Jonah scowled as he held out his father’s compass. Well, a compass. One that Jack had pilfered from Barbossa. 

Jack took it with gentle care before he arched a brow, “The rest?” 

Jonah slumped and pulled a coin purse and a ring from his pockets.  

Jack blinked in surprise at the ring before casting a glance to his right hand where indeed one of his rings was missing. He hadn’t even noticed that one, that was impressive.  

In return Jack held up a French silver medallion and grinned as Jonah blanched and checked his pockets. 

Jonah reached out to snag it, but Jack yanked it back, “Da!” 

“Pay attention to your possessions next time, eh?” Jack said as he tucked the medallion in his pocket, “Want it back? Best figure out a way to get it. Savvy?” 

A churlish pout curled his boy’s mouth, but he nodded before mumbling a quiet, “Savvy.” 

“Good lad.” Jack murmured before he crouched down, “Now come ‘ere and give your old man a proper greetin’.” 

Jonah hesitated much to Jack’s consternation. He had never known his boy to be leery with him and he didn’t care for it starting now. He refused to have the same relationship with his son that he had with Teague. As if summoned from the depths, Teague’s words about Quinn having a difficult time came floating back to him... What had gone on in his absence? 

He didn’t have time to ask before he had his arms filled with a seven-year-old. He relaxed and wrapped a tight arm around his boy as he felt Jonah turn into a limpet. That was more like it. 

Grinning, he pressed a kiss to Jonah’s ear as he murmured, “Missed ya, lil’ scallywag. You causin’ trouble for your mother?” 

“Aye.” Jonah answered against Jack’s chest. 

“You watchin’ out for your sister?” 

“Aye.” 

“Rosie tormentin’ you?” 

“Aye.” 

“You been getting revenge on her?” 

There was a pause before Jonah uttered, “No.” 

Jack nearly snorted in disbelief, but quite seriously asked, “And why not?” 

“Mum would tan me hide.”  Jonah stated as if it were obvious. He wasn’t dumb enough to admit to any wrongdoing he hadn't been caught at – especially not to his parents.  

Jack chuckled and gently pushed his son to stand back, “Depends on what you did and if you get caught. ‘Sides you probably deserve a good tanning every once in a while.” 

“Daaaa.” Jonah whined, making Jack snicker further before he was attacked by another small body. 

He leaned sideways and he grunted under the sudden impact, but the lilting giggle gave away his accoster long before he caught sight of her face. This was another one that could use a tanning or two.  

“Oi! Careful, darlin’. You gonna break this old man.” Jack cried as he lifted Rose to perch on his hip. He couldn’t stay crouched any longer, “Miss me?” 

“Aye.” Rose chirped as she grinned widely at her father.  

Jack’s heart melted under that smile and damn if his little girl didn’t know the power that she had over him. Just like her mother. He pressed a kiss to her cheek before she snuggled further into his hold. 

Seven bells rang in the distance, and he suddenly realized the hour. It was a bit late for his two wildings to be running amuck. Yet as he peered down the alley Rosie had flown from he saw the familiar shape of Quinn’s guard lingering.  

Poor blighter must have been put on watch. 

“Why are you two not with your mother?” 

“Mummy said youse be here and um- we wanted to find you, but we – uh – we made new friends and we’s got to playin’.” Rosie explained excitedly, “And then Morris came to get us and then Jony disappeared, and we’ve been lookin’ for ‘im.”  

“Is that so?” Jack murmured as he sent a speculative glanced to his son. 

Jonah stared unperturbed back at him, and Jack was reminded that this was very much his son. Stubborn and underhanded. 

As if to reinforce Rose’s words a faint cry from the opposite street caught the children’s attention. A few of the wharf rats were lingering and Jack took them to be the new friends. Jonah had a longing glint in his eye, and he sighed reluctantly, “Back to the quarters by first bell or I’ll put you over me knee meself, savvy?” 

Jonah didn’t wait and went skittering off before Jack had a chance to change his mind, “Savvy!” 

“I wanna go too!” Rosie cried, wriggling to get out of father’s hold.  

Jack held tight, “Ah, ah, no. I don’t think so, luv. You are gonna keep your old man safe as he goes and finds your mum.” 

“Nooo!” Rosie howled. 

“No?” Jack cried back, nodding to Morris as he passed him in the alley, “No? So, you want your dear dad to be savagely attacked? How cruel you be, little Rose. However, will I be able to find your fair mother all be me onesies, I wonder. Be a good lass and help your da out, eh?” 

His attempt at guilt did little to persuade the five-year-old as she stared at him mutinously. She was developing a fine glare to stop a man cold. It was obvious that Rosie had been spending far too much time with her mother. He barely dodged her little hands as she reached to pull his chin braids. Jack had almost forgotten that she needed no instruction to fight dirty.  

And it was a fight...all the way back to the quarters which only ended as he began to regale her with stories from the past. He pitied any man who dared to woo his daughter once she was older.  

It was a thought that vanished as he swept into the old family quarters only to find Quinn nowhere in sight. It was odd to suddenly be standing in a place that he had done everything he could to run away from – an all too familiar unease began to twist in his gut, and he had to bite his tongue to not become lost to ghosts that still haunted him. He tilted his head down the hall and saw a barely perceptible glow emanating from the slap shod parceling of lumber that was to act as a staircase.  

Jack nearly groaned. She was in Grandmama’s old quarters... Quinn was trying to punish him. 

Lovely. 

“Daddy?” Rosie cried softly as she watched her father’s countenance turn sour. Childish worry peered at him through eyes that were so like his. 

Jack forced a small smile to his lips before he tapped her nose, “Let’s get you to bed, eh? You’ll need your energy to go torment your brother come mornin.” 

Surprisingly, Rosie merely pouted a little at the bid for bed. Either she was more tired than she wanted to admit, or she still sensed the poor mood possessing her father. Jack didn’t want to explore either option, but he would take the opportunity her current submissiveness was giving him.  

----

He dawdled. 

He would never admit it, but he loitered in his old bedroom watching his daughter curl around a pillow as she fell into an easy slumber. He itched with the desire to haul her out and bring her to his cabin on the Pearl. Too many memories haunted this decrepit place and only a handful were counted as anything happy or good. He wanted none of it to touch his children.  

Jack couldn’t understand why he was here – Why Quinn had chosen to come back here. Even if it was to check in on him.  She held as little love for this place as he did... less in some regards. But he wouldn’t get any answers by hiding away. 

He came out just as Jonah crept through the front door. Jack arched a brow as he heard first bell in the distance, “Cuttin’ it close, lad.” 

Jonah fidgeted under his father’s stare before uttering, “Still ‘afore the bell.” 

“Aye, so you were.” Jack hummed and nodded to him to get to the bed with his sister, “Go on. To bed wit ya. Don’t let me catch you out of it.” 

“Da?” 

Jonah called as Jack ambled towards the stairs. He turned to find a churlish frown pinching his boy’s features.  

Jonah swallowed tightly as he stuttered out, “Ar- are you leavin’ us again?” 

Again. 

The quiet resignation in his son’s voice fair broke Jack’s heart, but he was unsurprised by it. In a perfect world he would keep his family aboard the Pearl with him. In a perfect world he wouldn’t miss months of his children’s lives. But a pirate ship was no place for a child and Jack had been a pirate for too long to stop now.... The world wasn’t perfect, and reality was a far more painful place as his son was beginning to learn. Jack just wished he wasn’t the one teaching that lesson already. 

He crouched down before Jonah again, this time tilting his boy’s chin up as he answered honestly – because his son deserved honesty, “Aye. I am, but I hope to be with you again soon.” 

“I don’t want you to go.” A suspicious sheen had come to decorate Jonah’s dark eyes. A wobble to his lips.  

It dawned on Jack then that Jonah must have just heard about the coming battle. Word had been slower than he had anticipated reaching the shops, but it would have spread through the city fully by now and his boy wasn’t stupid enough not to listen. 

Jack winced as he murmured soothingly, “Now none of that, lad.” 

“Please.” Jonah choked out, unable to hold back his tears. He was suddenly folded into his father’s embrace as he broke into a sob. Rum, sea salt, and gunpowder invaded the little boy’s senses – it was a unique combination of scents that he would forever associate with his father. It was home and it was safe, and he lost it every time his father disappeared to the sea.  

Jonah burrowed into him in a way that made Jack think he was trying to hide in his pocket. Jack closed his eyes sadly and tightened his hold as he let his boy cry it out, “Wants and needs, Jony. Very rarely do those two ever line up. I would love nothing more than to keep you and your sister and your mother with me always, but it's just not possible. So, we must steal what time we can with each other and not give any of it back.” 

Jonah sniffled, “Be a pirate.” 

“Aye.” Jack murmured, “Be a pirate.” 

They sat together soaking in what comfort they could before Jonah pushed back and wiped at his nose. His eyes were swollen still with his tears, and it hurt something deep in Jack to watch his son try and be brave. He was too young for that skill yet. 

A glint of silver caught his eye, and Jonah gave a watery smile as he held up his medallion, freshly stolen back into his care. 

Jack huffed a faint laugh, “Well done, lad. I’ll make a pirate out of you yet. Or at the very least, a very competent thief.” 

Ruddy cheeks still damp were softly soothed by Jack’s rough hands before he prodded Jonah to the bedroom his sister was in, “Go on. Give your face a wash and get to bed.” 

Jack stood in the doorway as he watched Jonah reluctantly follow his orders. The dry sink holding the washing bowl made his boy seem incredibly small and too grown all at once. He made a mess of washing his face, but it was more of a cover to hide fresh tears and soft hitched breaths.  

Jack pretended not to notice, no sense in embarrassing the boy.  Finally, he shucked his clothes and grabbed a large shirt Quinn had left out. Jack recognized it as an old one of his and that brought on an entire new swell of bittersweet emotion to drown his heart. 

It was only as Jonah began to settle next to his sister that Jack meander back to tuck him in. He smiled faintly under his son’s doleful gaze before giving into the temptation to press a kiss to his temple, “Sleep, lad. Tomorrow’s a new day with new adventures.” 

“Take what you can.” Jonah whispered. 

“And give nothin’ back.” Jack whispered back solemnly. He gave a light squeeze to his boy’s shoulder in silent good night. 

-----

 A heavenly sight greeted Jack when he finally made his way upstairs. The bare expanse of Quinn’s back was on display as her shift hung loosely around her waist. His gaze drifted up from her shapely legs to the delicious curve of her bottom over the dark lines that inked her spine to the thin wispy curls that had found freedom from the mishappened updo she had imprisoned the rest of her mane in.  Steam rose from the tub residing beside her and for a moment Jack quite forgot his irritation with her. 

For a moment, anyway. The tense set of her shoulders was his first clue that he wasn’t the only one out of sorts. 

“Now, there’s a sight for sore eyes.” Jack murmured as he leaned against the doorframe. Her lukewarm welcome was his second clue. 

Green eyes peeked over a slim shoulder at him as Quinn place a bottle of some concoction down, “Wondered if you’d actually come up here.” 

Jack wasn’t sure if here was the quarters or Grandmama’s room in specific and he didn’t care to ask. He ignored the subtle prompting in her comment with a gesture that said, ‘well, here he stood’. It didn’t surprise him when Quinn rolled her eyes and turned back to her ablutions. 

“Are the children sorted?” 

“Aye.” Jack answered with a frown. He hated talking to her back – even if it was a glorious view. It made it a mite difficult to ascertain what was going on in her head, “As you well know. Surprised you didn’t step in while Jony was cryin’.” 

“He needed you, not me.” She said with a slight shrug, but he felt the truth in her words. Jonah had wanted his papa. There be no denying that. 

“Shall I wash your back, luv? Get those hard-to-reach places.” Jack offered as he sauntered closer, “Nice and squeaky clean, eh?” 

Quinn snorted, “Your dirty hands are not to touch me, Jack. When was the last time you had a washin’, you filthy pirate?” 

Jack paused, slightly offended and unwillingly amused as he pondered that query. He didn’t think that he as that dirty – he had definitely been worse, “I took a dip not too long ago, I’ll have you know.” 

Surely hanging upside down in the ocean counted. 

“You can take another now. Waters for you. I’ve already bathed.” Quinn said, her hands moving to pull up her shift when his came to stop her. 

“Now don’t do that, luv.” Jack whispered against her ear as he pressed against her. He bit back a smile as he felt a faint shudder wrack her body, “I’m quite enjoyin’ you half dressed. Course it’d be even better if you were completely undressed.” 

“Jack...” 

His lips brushed over the curve of her neck as his hands slid over her hips to hold her more firmly...except, there was more of her than he expected. Jack paused as his grip flexed over the small swell of her belly. Only just slightly bigger than a bump. His heart leapt into his throat in realization before his dark gaze snapped up to find her watching him warily. 

“Thought I told you not to touch me with those dirty hands.” Quinn rasped, trying for a light – indifferent tone and failing. 

“I’ll touch you however much I want, woman.” Jack said thickly, “Is that why you came here? To tell me?”   

 “Thought you should know... You’ll have one more to be comin’ back to.” She mumbled, “You need to stop gettin’ me with child.” 

Jack grinned, fierce joy and pride batting back his outright terror for the moment, “Whatever for? I quite enjoy gettin’ you fat with my child.” 

He grunted a moment later as her elbow collided with his side and she growled calmly, “Fat? I’ll show you fat, Jack Sparrow.” 

Despite the playful glint in her eye, Jack chuckling, quickly grasped both her wrists before she could do something decidedly unpleasant to his person. Now, he understood why Teague had let her come. A pregnant Quinn was an impossible Quinn to reason with, “Come ‘ere.”  

He tugged her around and stole the kiss he had been angling for since he had stepped inside. It felt good to have her with him again. It was downright beautiful actually. There had been a few dark moments when he wondered if he’d make it back to her and the kids. And he had – they were here. 

At least for the moment and he’d take it. 

He’d steal this time like he had told Jonah to do. 

Jack broke the kiss, reveling in her mewl of protest as he leant his head against hers, “Another one, eh?” 

“Aye.” Quinn murmured back, “You upset?” 

“Have I ever been upset over being made a father?” He asked blithely, “Or given you cause to think I’d be?” 

“Jack...” She sighed, “It’s different this time and you know it.” 

Tendrils of the terror he had been pushing back were starting to grasp, but he refuse to let it hold. The memory of her last pregnancy was clearer than air for him. The babe they had lost - How he had nearly lost her as well... Damn her for alluding to it. His hold on her tightened almost imperceptibly.  

Jack shrugged, pressing his lips to her crown, “So, we’re a little older – a little more damaged, a little more weary. Still wouldn’t change a thing.” He pushed back and nudged her to do the same as he did a quick calculation in his head, “Let’s have a look at ya. Be about five months, that right?” 

Quinn hesitated, making Jack frown. She had never been shy with him before and he didn’t understand her reluctance now. Jonah had done the same. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something until his appraising gaze found the crest of her bosom or more specifically the top of her left breast and what should have resided there. 

His mark... 

“What’s this?” He breathed. 

The dark lines of the sparrow over the horizon that normally decorated her skin had faded. It wasn’t the type of blanching that would come from the sun, but it was as if the ink had eroded to a thin sketch. His fingers traced the mark bewildered before he yanked the sleeve of his shirt up to view his matching bird.  

It had burned something fierce while he had been in the Locker. A hallucination. Or at least... Had that pain been real? He had thought - taken it to mean really that his soul saying he was too far from his other half... but now?  

It had changed.  

The dull bluish black lines had become more a sickly grey. He hadn’t noticed...it’d had stop hurting once he had left the Locker and he had all but put the odd experience from his mind. 

It was then Jack truly took stock of his woman. Faint circles lined her usually lively emerald eyes, her cheeks a little hollower than he would like... She was pale. Sallow really. Despite that he knew for a fact, that she tended to spend a fair bit of time out in the sun. 

“It may not have been just the babe that brought me here. I guess that bonding ceremony we did wasn’t as much of a lark as we thought.” Quinn uttered quietly. She bit her lip and stepped away as she pulled her shift into place, “Get your bath. I wanna check on the little ones.”  

Jack watched her go with gaping worry. 

Go easy on her, Jackie. She’s been through the gamut. 

What the blood hell had happened in his absence? 

-----

Quinn was mildly astonished to see that Jack had followed her decree to bathe when she returned to the room. Of course, he was already reaching for a towel...  

She hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes, “You’ve only made the dirt on you muddy, at least scrape it off.” 

“You want me clean, luv, you best get over here and give me a hand.” Jack grumbled as he sent her a sly glance, “Get those hard-to-reach places.” 

Quinn scoffed at him, “For someone who loves bein’ on the water, you have a peculiar resistance to gettin’ in it.” 

“It’s not the same though is it.” Jack replied as he washed his arms a bit better. He wanted to see the full extent of the change to his mark, “Of course, there be a list of interestin’ questions you’d be good to answer if you want me to sit in this water longer.”  

“I have a feelin’ I’ll be answerin’ those questions regardless.” She muttered, but she snagged a washrag and poked him to sit forward so she could sit on the lip of the tub behind him, her dainty feet brushed his hips. It wouldn’t be too much longer before her belly would make such a feat impossible. 

Jack fairly purred as she worked the rag across his back, lightly massaging as she went, “Aye, you would...What’s happened, Quinn?” 

“Let’s see... You left.” She supplied unhelpfully, but she sensed his unimpressed glare long before he opened his mouth, “I had business in New Orleans – its changed since we’ve last been. Kids caught the measles. That was a miserable few weeks. I missed two of my courses before realizin’ I was increasin’. Oh, and then suddenly, I was struck by the most debilitatin’ pain – bit like takin’ a hot poker to the chest I reckon. Scared poor Jonah half to death with the way I screamed, ended up passin’ out thankfully, but I was sure I had lost the babe. Bloody miracle, I hadn’t. That was when I received word of your demise and then Teague stopped by on his way to here and I figure it best to hear what was goin’ on.” 

Jack hummed as he was once again dropped into a pool of horrified and exasperated. Only Quinn could utter all of that like was the most casual thing in the world. Just afternoon tea, really. It should have clued him in really. That sort of passivity from her only meant that she was brimming with fire beneath the surface.  

It didn’t for his ire with her was definitely rearing its head once more. He didn’t even know where to begin with all of that, so he waspishly muttered, “Oh is that all? Just another bloody Tuesday, is it?” 

“It’s Wednesday actually.” 

“Quinn.” Jack rebuked, losing his patience.  

He needed to see her.  

He twisted, grabbing her wrist, and yanked her around so suddenly that water sloshed out of the tub. She fell haphazardly into his lap. Her shift was soaked within seconds. 

“Oh!” She growled, livid.  

She became even more so when she caught his agitation with her. As far as she was concerned, he didn’t have the bloody right. It was as if a bubble had burst within her. Everything that she had kept bottled up for last half year came flowing out at him.  

The tub wasn’t big enough to accommodate two people, but she somehow maneuvered herself to straddle him before she began raining blows, “You are –Such -A – Bastard!” 

“Ow! Woman!” Jack wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he would rather endure this rage from her than the barbed flippancy she had been spewing behind his head. Though the way she was wriggling in his lap wasn’t helping matters on another end. A particularly hard blow to his stomach had him restraining her wrists again as they both labored for breath. 

Quinn glared at him, hot tears stinging her eyes as she wrathfully muttered, “You died! You died! You -” 

And there was the heart of the matter... at least for her. The anguish in her emerald eyes startled Jack. It had been a long time since he had seen her this upset. A rush of guilt tore through him like a riptide and she saw it too.  

She tried to yank her hands free to strike him again, but Jack held firm, “I know, luv, I know. But I’m here now. I’m back.” 

“Oh, codswallop!” Quinn swore a blue streak, “You’re here? For how long? Or are you not chargin’ out into that bloody massacre that’s set for tomorrow? Shall I plan the eulogy now?” 

Jack’s face darkened and it took some not inconsiderable control for him not lash out the way he wanted to – they had both been through hell. He could recognize that, even with the bare bones accounting that Quinn had given him. Like the sun rose in the east, he knew that she hadn’t told him everything. He also knew he had scared her and if the tables had been turned, he would be just as furious. 

Lord, he didn’t want to fight with her. He really didn’t, but a thought had occurred that he wanted answered, “Quinn - Quinn, stop wrigglin’!” 

She didn’t and he muttered a quick oath before he shifted his grasp on both her wrists to one hand before he delved his other between their bodies. 

Quinn jerked in shock as his fingers grazed over her slit, searching for evidence of arousal as much as desiring a way of stilling her. She didn’t even notice when he let her go, only that she was suddenly bracing herself on his shoulders as he caught her startled gaze and a sank a finger into her. 

She emitted a strangled, “Jack!” 

“Told you to stop wrigglin’.” Jack murmured smugly as he tried not to lose the thread of thought he had been chasing before he decided it’d be a good idea to reexplore tempting territory to get her attention. Throwing her down and ravishing her was fast becoming an overwhelming desire – especially as she made no attempt to stand up and leave. Maybe they needed to fuck this one out, “Now, before you resume abusin’ my person, luv, do us a favor and tell me... when you made the fundamentally stupid decision to come back to the Cove -” 

Her nails dug into his shoulder, and he hissed before adding another finger to his play, “That’s not nice, luv... When you made the decision, did you know I was alive?” 

Quinn frowned at him, wondering why this was so important. Of all the things that she had said to him this was the last line of inquiry she had expected... and really wasn’t that just like him.  

Impatience seemed to get the best of him again at her prolonged silence as he very purposefully curled his fingers inside of her. Quinn suppressed a moan as he grazed that spot that brought such exquisite pleasure. A mordant liquid began to seep to her loins, “...Yes.” 

“Sorry, was that yes to my question or are you beggin’ me for more, darlin’?” Jack asked grinning wickedly. She swore at him which only made him giddy, “Pirate.” 

“Jack, I can’t focus when you’re doin’ that.” She said, trying to tug his arm up, but he didn’t budge. 

“Good, I don’t want you focusin’ too hard.” He murmured back, quite forgetting what he was about as he leaned in and nipped at the skin exposed by her collar. The faded lines of his mark glared up at him. That would be fixed... Had to be. 

“Yes.” Quinn said, “Yes, to your question.”    

“How did you know?” 

“Your bloody mark.” Quinn murmured, “It stopped feeling like it was going to burn me from the inside out.” 

Jack went silent. A deep frown marring his features and she could only wait for him to verbalize his thoughts. He fell back, allowing her the freedom to get up if she so chose. She didn’t. 

“Not as much of a lark, eh?” Jack finally said, but there was no hiding the anguish behind his words.  

Just a bunch of words that ceremony. Neither of them had been keen on a proper marriage but their own promises? A blood pact that was meant to twine their souls?  That added a touch of mystery, and romance, and fun – well that had been right up their alley, now hadn’t it. 

What bloody fools they had been... 

Quinn found that she unwillingly softened in the face of his horror, and she sighed, “I think the babe is what kept me from joinin’ you... wherever you were.” 

Jack peered at her quizzically, not following her line of thought. 

 “A bit of you is in me, isn’t it? It’s how we’re creatin’ this little life.” Quinn whispered, not willing to tell him that she also suspected that was why she had been in such horrible pain. The bond didn’t know where to pull her too – so it tore at her, “An entwining of essences to be forever one.” 

Jack swallowed as she recited the words from the ceremony, “Doesn’t sound quite as sensual anymore, does it?” 

“No...” Quinn agreed, it sounded downright terrifying now. She drew a fortifying breath, “How long? How long before you have to go?” 

“We’re to leave at daybreak.”  

“Right.” Jack froze as she leveled a cold glare on him that made his heart cringe in anticipation of her wrath, “Don’t you dare die on me again, Jack Sparrow.” 

She swiftly removed herself from the tub before he could respond. Her back to him once more as she hid a rush of tears. She shed her wet shift with little care as he murmured, “I wouldn’t dream of it, Quinnie.”     

 Though she was better at hiding her tears than their son, Jack still noticed, and he wasn’t about to pretend he hadn’t otherwise.  

The sloshing of water was her only warning before he was on her. His fingers grasped her elbow and spun her around before she could think. Her mouth found his first. Harsh, angry, biting as she unleased her distress upon him and... claimed him. Jack took it all, silently relishing in the rare show of possessiveness from her. Anything to make her tears stop. He couldn’t stand her crying for him, never could. 

His arms became bands around her waist as he pulled her tight. For the first time in months the world seemed to still and feel right. A strange peace fell over them both. Their kiss broke when the need for air became too great, but that didn’t stop her from nuzzling into him, trailing biting kisses along his jaw as he walked them back to the bed.  

Jack hummed as her attentions fell to his neck and he realized she was truly laying claim to him with a mark of her own, “You’re not normally one for love bites, what’s brought this on?” 

“Just a reminder.” Quinn murmured as she let him push her onto the mattress. Her hands traced the panes of his body as if she was trying to commit it to memory. 

Jack crawled over her, nipping her lip, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Reminder? It’s unlikely I’ll be attractin’ a strumpet to me tomorrow for you to chase off with a reminder.” 

“Reminder’s for you.” Quinn said drolly even as she spread her legs for him. She wanted him close – needed it really and he was moving too slow when they had only a few hours before he’d leave again... 

“Woman, you’re not makin’ a lick of sense.” Jack stated stoutly, firmly ignoring her overtures for a quick fuck.  

This wasn’t Tortuga and he wasn’t taking her against an alley wall. Though... A faint smile tugged at his lips at the few good memories they had against said walls. He wanted to see her. He took in the fullness of her breasts and smoothed his palms lovingly over her growing belly. He had always been fascinated by the change pregnancy wrought on her body. 

Quinn tugged on the end of one of his dreads as he leaned down to place a kiss to her stomach, “It’s just to make you think twice before you do something incredibly stupid – Like become so distracted by a kiss as to get yourself shackled to a ship and then killed.” 

Jack reared up to find Quinn staring at him with an indifference that scared him more than her anger, “I haven’t the foggiest of what you’re on about.” 

“Mmhmm.” 

He couldn't stop himself from playing with fire though, “But if I did... How much groveling would one have to do to be forgiven for such an infraction? Pray tell.” 

Quinn was silently amused as she watched him try to puzzle out how much trouble he was in exactly – Never mind that he had her completely naked and willing at the moment, “Alot, more if I have to throw myself at you to get any kind of satisfaction tonight. You’re doin’ a very poor job of making me feel desirous right now.” 

Jack had the gall to look affronted at her critique, “I’ve been harder than a bloody hammer since I’ve stepped into this room, luv. Let’s not pretend you don’t know the effect your utterly delectable and sinful body has on my person or that you intentionally kept yourself half-dressed to lull me into forgetting’ where exactly we are right now. Which well-played by the way.” 

“I haven’t the foggiest of what you’re on about.” Quinn uttered back at him, shrieking with laughter a moment later as he pounced on her. Her laughter was dissolved by a rather thorough kiss that left her with no doubts of Jack’s desire for her. 

A slow heat swept through her as she fell into his touch. The familiarity of him was a comfort that she had been lacking for too long. His scent, his strength, his warmth surrounded her, and she basked in it, just as Jack basked in her. He was almost... reverential. As if he was not entirely sure that she was real as he took his time rediscovering her body.  

Calloused fingers hooked under her knee and pulled her wider as he entered her...slowly... so slowly. As if he were afraid of her hurting her. To be fair, her muscles strained a bit from being split, but it was a welcome discomfort that disappeared with the relief of being fulfilled. 

Quinn emitted a pleased sigh as he bottomed out and Jack moaned, enjoying the way her lurid cavern suckled him so sweetly.  

His lips danced over hers in a gossamer caress as he watched her, “Alright?” 

“Hmmm.” Quinn hummed contently. She drew a finger across his cheek, marveling at his gentleness for not the first time, “I missed you.” 

Jack smiled warmly at her, as his arms came to rest on either side of her head. He stole a true kiss then, “And I, you, luv.” 

“Then you should ravish me, Pirate.” She teased, arching against him in silent demand. 

“Aye. I should.” Jack chuckled as he began to thrust languidly.  

He was intent on drawing their union out for a multitude of reasons. A petty one being that he knew it would drive her mad and he was still stinging over where their fortuitous reunion was occurring. More significantly, Quinn had successfully lit the fuse on every one of his concern canons with her wan appearance and he didn’t trust her to tell him if she was feeling unwell. Stubborn bint that she was.   

Amusedly, he could practically feel Quinn’s frustration build as she shifted, matching his movement, but also trying to get enough purchase to change the pace to something faster. 

“Jack!” 

He shook with laughter but stilled – knowing she had reached the limit of his teasing, “I should have gotten you off before playin’, luv. I’m sorry. I’d forgotten how insatiable this state makes you.” 

“Insufferable.” She grumbled, pinching his side as he reached for a pillow to put under her hips. He jumped, swatting lightly at her as he resituated them, “You’re treating me like I’m made of glass.” 

Jack realized then that Quinn didn’t know how fragile she looked to him, like a good gust of wind would knock her down. He sighed and rubbed a soothing trail up her thigh as he murmured, “I haven’t been around to take care of you, Quinnie. Your body’s no longer used to it. Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you winced when I breeched you or the way you tensed when I was touchin’ that fair chest of yours. You’re tender, ain’t ya?” 

“Only a little.” Quinn sulked, “I can handle more, luv.” 

Jack arched a brow at her. 

“I’m not gonna break. Promise. Please” She wheedled, reaching for him, “You know I don’t say please often.” 

There was a long moment of silence as he studied her before suddenly, he bucked. It was heavenly, just the right amount of friction they both needed. Jack stifled a groan, but Quinn hadn’t been prepared and failed to hide another wince as a twang of discomfort rippled with the pleasure he brought to her body.  

“You gonna follow my lead now?” Jack demanded. 

“Is your lead gonna go any faster?”  

“Woman...” Jack swore, shaking his head, “You are -” 

“Yours?” Quinn smiled cheekily and Jack couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Aye, that you are.” Despite being charmed, he didn’t give into her whims. If they had time for another round he would, but for now she’d have to deal with slow and gentle. He sure as hell was... not that it was much of a trial.  

Her faint moans and whispered mewls were music to his ears after coming uncomfortably close to not being able to hear this ever again. No, he had no problem taking his time to swim her depths. 

-----

Jack fell next to her sweaty and sated as Quinn labor for breath next to him. She lazily squeezed his arm as she murmured, “Alright... I’ll be more willin’ to follow your lead next time.” 

Jack grinned smugly, pulling her against his chest as he recovered from their crush of bliss, “Feel like I’ve heard that ‘afore, luv.” 

Quinn suppressed a smile and entangled their legs as he drew circles over her belly with curious fingers. A wistful grimace painted his vintage that Quinn understood all too clearly... It was different his time around, whether Jack wanted to admit it aloud or not. She placed her hand over his, catching his weary regard. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” He murmured after a moment, gaze drifting to her mark. It may have been a trick of the light, but the lines seemed to have thickened – at least a tad. It pained him to think he may have almost caused her demise. 

“No, you’re not.” She arched a knowing brow at him. 

“No, I am not.” Jack agreed dryly, aware she thought he was speaking about being back in the Cove. And aye, that he was not pleased with, “You’re incredibly lucky to be with child right now or else I’d have you over my knee for comin’ back to this hell hole– especially now, luv.” 

Quinn’s emerald eyes glimmered dangerously at the threat as she murmured, “Liked to see you try.” 

“I’ve done it before, haven’t I? Don’t tempt me.” 

It was how unusually serious he was as he uttered those words that let Quinn know how upset she had made him. Coming back to the Cove had never been on her agenda and she wouldn’t have if every bone in her body hadn’t been screaming at her to return. She had learned to trust her instincts ages ago. 

She forced a bland retort, “Hardly think it counts when it's just a lead up to more pleasurable pursuits.” 

Jack sent her a warning look but took the opportunity their turn in mood presented to address the elephant neither wanted to acknowledge, “Should the worst happen tomorrow, I want you to find Teague. Grab the children and go with him. Shipwreck Island won’t be safe. As Keeper of the Code, he’ll be the last to depart which will make him the quickest to get back here.” 

A spark of undo terror tightened Quinn’s throat and she withdrew her hand from his as she protested, “Don’t. Don’t talk like this -” 

“I want you to go with him to Madagascar. You'll be safe there.” Jack pressed, otherwise he’d never get the words out. 

Dropping an explosive would have been a kinder shock. Her eyes widened in quiet outrage, “Mada - you want me to go to your family? Jack, there’s a reason you don’t visit them.” 

“Aye! They’re barmy and insufferable, but harmless for the most part. - Well, now that Grandmama is dead, they’re mostly harmless. You're more than capable of handlin’ Quick Draw and her ilk. The house in Madagascar is nye impossible to get to unless you’ve been before. Beckett has a grudge against me, and you know it. Should he discover I have a family...” Jack shuddered, refusing to travel down that rabbit hole. He was one of the few who knew just what a cruel and cold bastard Beckett to be, “Promise me, you’ll go.” 

“...” Quinn bit her tongue, feeling positively sick from what he was demanding of her. 

“Promise me, Quinn.” 

She glowered at him, scowling faintly as she said, “I will always do what needs to be done to keep our children safe, you know this.” 

He did, he did know that “I’m not just worried about our children now, am I? Promise me.” 

A strangled note of desperation burst free on that last command and Quinn felt her ire quite blown out to sea at the sound of it. Jack wasn’t playing fair.  

She swallowed tightly before she whispered, “...I promise to find Teague.” 

Jack didn’t miss the way she had worded that oath. She’d find him, didn’t necessarily mean she’d go with him. He cursed quietly but acknowledge it was probably the best he would get from her, “Thank you.” 

“...Jack?” Quinn breathed, letting her worry come to the surface as she made her own demand, “Come back to me. Just come back.” 

She didn’t care when he did it or how’ just as long as he came back. 

Jack softened in the face of her concern. Cupping her cheek, he placed as much flippant bravado in his words as possible, “I’ve defied death once and come back to you – think I won’t do it again?” 

His cockiness did the trick of making her relax and roll her eyes at him, “I swear by all that’s holy, if you say that you’re Captain Jack Sparrow and that’s why it won’t happen again, you can go sleep on your bloody ship.”  

“Well, I am...” Jack murmured.  

He knew she didn’t buy it when he acted like this, she was one of the few people in the world that could remind him that he wasn’t as indestructible as he liked to pretend. 

“I think you wouldn’t have had to do it once if you hadn’t been so stupid...” Quinn intoned, leaning into his touch before lightly continuing, “And then you followed up that stupid by making it the Pirate King with your vote and now you’re goin’ to battle.” 

Jack’s mouth moved soundlessly for a moment before he uttered, “You are...annoyingly well informed.” 

Quinn shrugged, “I was in the room when the vote happened. Not my fault you didn’t notice.” 

His dark eyes narrowed at her, “And the kiss?” 

“Oh, so you do know what I was speaking of then.” She murmured a little caustically. 

“Aye, well, it seems that Karma’s fine tone sense of retribution for my brief moment of disloyalty was to have me eaten and spat out in a fish captain’s purgatory. Surely even you must agree that I’ve been sufficiently punished for my crime, eh?” Jack smiled as charmingly as he could, making her snort. 

“It wasn’t the kiss that bothered me, Jack. It was you dying...Miss. Swann may have mentioned it to me in a moment of unburdening.” She answered vaguely, misinterpreting his dubious glare as disbelief when merely he was trying to puzzle out when the two women had met, “She didn’t know who she was confessin’ to.” 

“And you left her unharmed?” Jack asked genuinely surprised.  

While jealousy made a rare appearance in his Quinn, protective did not. There were a few pirates – and maybe one or two of his relatives - residing at the bottom of the ocean for far lesser offenses than killing him.  

Hell, he wasn’t entirely sure Grandmama had died of natural causes as Teague had claimed. He remembered that Quinn had been in their part of the world at the time, and she hated the old bitch almost more than he did.   

“If I had been in her place, I would have done the same.” Quinn said with a shrug. For a moment Jack thought her possessed before she continued, “Sides, I knew Tia had talked her into helping get you back from the Locker, if she happened to get maimed or died in the process I wouldn’t have shed a tear.” 

There it was - that was his Quinn. He relaxed back into his pillow as he sent her another suspicious look, “And how were you privy to what Tia Dalma’s plans were?” 

“...Didn’t I mention?” 

 “No, no, you did not mention, luv.” Jack said pointedly, irritation flashed in his dark eyes at her, “It seems you’ve left quite a bit out of your recounting of our time apart.” 

Quinn smiled sweetly, “And you can get the rest of it when you come back. You should have your own version of events well thought out by then.” 

Jack pursed his lips, debating if he wanted to press the issue. At this point, the only thing he would have edited out of his account, she already knew...  

Deciding it wasn’t worth the headache, he changed the gambit, “Sri Sumbhajee, you heard him speak tonight then, do you know -” 

“He’s a eunuch.” 

“...Is he not married?” Jack asked, perplexed and he faintly pitied the woman if it true. 

“He is.” Quinn said quietly, resting her head over his heart, “On his second wife, if I heard correctly.” 

“I wonder how that works then.” Jack grimaced curiously. 

“For him or her?” 

“Both?” 

-----

The utterly disconcerting feeling of being watched woke Jack sometime later – at least that’s what he would tell Quinn. Confusion briefly descended when he didn’t feel the soft shifting of waves. Then it all came screaming back – he barely muffled a curse. Drowsily, his head tilted toward the doorway to see Teague pulling his fist back from the door. 

Must have knocked. 

Christ, but that was off putting. For a moment, he thought he was thirteen again. 

“It’s time, boy.” Teague growled lowly once he saw Jack was conscious before disappearing from sight like a ghost. 

Very off putting.  

Jack could only grunt before he moved to get up, only to find a weight pressing against his stomach. He thought it Quinn’s leg as he slipped his arm from beneath her head, but a quick peek, showed him a messy curly mane belonging to his daughter. He wasn’t sure how he slept through her clambering into bed with them, but not his father’s knock. 

Sense of self-preservation perhaps. He didn’t need to defend himself against his little girl. 

Gently, he eased her over before he reached for his trousers. He moved with more grace than he typically displayed in public, donning his clothes and wresting his boots into place before he moved back to sort his girls.  

Luckily, Rose’s propensity for sleeping like the dead hadn’t changed in his time away as he slid her up the bed to lay within her mother’s protective reach.  

He was pulling the sheets around their little one when he heard Quinn whisper, “Don’t do anything stupid.” 

Glittering emerald worry peered at him, but Jack met her stare unflinchingly, “As long as you swear to do the same.” 

“When am I ever stupid?” 

“I’ll not answer that.” He said wisely, smiling when she glared at him, “I’ll be back before you know it, luv.” 

“Better be.” Quinn said tightly, fighting back tears as she watched him kiss Rose in farewell, “I love you.” 

Jack stilled as those three words escaped her lips. Rarely did they ever acknowledge it – they never needed to because it was just a fact. He loved Quinn and she loved him and that was it. To hear her say it now felt incredibly wrong – too much like a permanent farewell. His heart thundered loudly in his ears. 

“I thought only heedless fools ever said those words.” Jack said quietly, reminding her of the first time he had ever said it to her. 

“Aye, and you’re the biggest heedless fool I know and maybe I am too. So, I'm saying it.” Quinn stated softly. 

He nodded, suddenly understanding just how frightened she was for him before leaning over and catching her lips in his. His kiss was bruising, almost angry as he took his fill. A wetness splashed his cheeks as Quinn lost the battle with her tears.  

He pulled back and found himself soothing her in much the same way he had Jonah earlier, “None of that now, Quinnie. Don’t you dare cry.” 

Wants and needs, he had told their son. He wanted to stay. Quinn needed him to stay even if she wouldn’t say it, but he also needed to go. His hand had been deep in the pot that caused the current climate with Beckett and Jones, so it would be his hand that helped clear it and kept his family safe. 

He stole one last kiss before he whispered, “I love you too, Little Sprite.” 

Jack turned from her then, knowing he wouldn’t be able to leave if he didn’t. He didn’t dare look back at her, her distress would simply break him. Instead, he snagged his sword and gun from the chair by the door and strode from the room and down the stairs to where Teague waited.  

His father didn’t comment on his grim expression, merely watched as Jack pointedly ignored him in favor of finding his coat, “Is she alright?” 

“No.” Jack said stoutly, but raised his chin as he met Teague’s stare, “But she will be if I have anything to say about it.” 

[heygerald]

Red Skies Warning: (POTC 2003)

OFC x Captain Jack Sparrow

Tortuga did not disappoint.

It was exactly what she had been picturing. Prostitutes dotted every street corner, drunkards sleeping in pig pens, alleys overrun with rats, and a bar fight nearly every hour. The streets stunk of piss, hay, and sweat. There was an ever present noise; people shouting to one another, Captains barking orders, cries of anger mixing right alongside the near constant cheers of jolly. And—

Edwina loved it.

It was everything she had read about as a kid, sneaking towards the docks to pry stories of life at sea from the returning sailors or begging the housekeeper—a well traveled lady by the name of Chandace—for tales of seabeasts and mermaids. All her life her mother had hated that sense of childish wonderment she had; her father hadn't been around enough to scold her when she was young.

And now, here she was, experiencing it all for herself.

"You rat bastard!" a voice could be heard in the revelry, followed by the sound of a bottle smashing and punches being thrown against skin. The barkeep shouted something towards the chaos, but altogether remained unbothered as he placed two glasses down on the counter. "I'll kill you—!"

"I think it's time for us to leave," a shoulder edged itself in between her and the fight, effectively cutting off her most recent source of amusement.

Edwina frowned irritably.

Will decidedly did not love the chaos as much as his redheaded friend. Worry lines had creased deeply into his face the moment they stepped off the HMS Interceptor, and his frown now seemed near permanent as he pressed them as far into the corner as he could.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic."

"Dramatic? Edwina, we just saw somehow get bludgeoned with a broken bottle."

"He's still alive," she said with a dismissive wave of the hand. The reaction—or, her lack of one—didn't seem to amuse Will in the slightest. "Will, honestly, no one else seems all that worried about the little scene."

"That only means they're used to it."

"Or that it's not a big deal."

Will's eyes rounded incredulously, and Edwina could already feel the beginning of a headache behind her eyes from the ensuing reprimand that she was about to receive. "You can't be serious. This—"

"We're not going to be here long," she cut him off before he could get started. It worked, though he still seemed entirely unhappy about their current circumstances. "We can't go anywhere without a crew."

"We got here without a crew," he muttered.

She wasn't sure their journey to Tortuga was a badge of honor considering how they had scraped a large section of wood off their ship when making port. Not to mention the fact that they hadn't slept during their journey at all just so they wouldn't run the risk of sinking themselves on a wayward reef. "Barely. Do you really want to be working crew twenty-four hours a day for however many days it takes to find Elizabeth?"

His frown flattened.

"It's going to be fine. You just need to, you know, relax a little."

Will took a long swallow of his drink—wincing when he realized that it tasted more like piss than beer—before he was eyeing her suspiciously. "You seem to be handling things... well."

"Should I be crying more?"

"A pirate's ship is no place for a lady. And this place," he added with a sour look around, his gaze lingering on the pair of ladies in the corner that wore dangerously revealing dresses, "is certainly not the type of establishment you should be lingering in."

Edwina rolled her eyes and took a long dreg of her own beer, purposely holding his gaze and not gagging at the disgusting taste. Will rolled his eyes when she wiped the spilt beer off her face with nothing other than the sleeve of her shirt. "Should I remind you that I didn't have any say in where we made port? I'm here, just like you, in the hopes that Captain Sparrow may not be as crazy as he seems."

You shouldn't have come at all, his eyes seemed to say. But Will wasn't as stupid as he looked, and rather than reprimand her for showing up, he decided to keep that thought to himself knowing she would likely be starting the next bar fight if he said something so sexist to her. "I could have done this on my own."

Edwina gave him a flat look. "You wouldn't have even gotten to the beach before ending up in irons," she reminded him shrewdly.

"We... would have figured something out. Sparrow's one redeeming quality seems to be his improvisation skills."

In perfect timing with the compliment, the sounds of a barfight kicked up from the other side of the bar, and the pair turned to find Jack Sparrow himself being smacked around by the very same ladies that Will had been avoiding earlier.

"You said you's 'was a Lord," one of the ladies hissed, as the other's mouth popped open into a perfect o. She added, "you told me you were going to marry me as soon as your mother died!"

"Well, technically, my mother ain't dead yet, so that's not a lie."

"Oh!"

They took turns smacking him across the cheek, before dumping their beer across his face. Amber liquid dripped a line down his jaw while they turned on their heels, huffed, and marched out through the front door.

Jack grimaced, flinging his hands dry as he watched the door slam shut behind him. The whole bar seemed to be staring now—if only out of boredom—and Edwina watched in mute surprise when his response was nothing other than a silver-toothed grin.

"What can I say, lads?" he touted, spinning for everyone to see, before he clapped his hands together. "The ladies of Tortuga are torturous, treacherous, and my favorite thing on this island."

Laughter echoed around the bar as several men raised their own glasses in some sort of vagabond agreement. Will was clearly not impressed with the little show if the disgust curling the edge of his mouth was anything to go by.

"He's going to get someone killed," Will told her pointedly.

Edwina just smiled. "Yeah, himself."

Jack meandered up to their side of the bar. He cast a mindless smile in Edwina's direction before ordering a drink from the bartender. When he realized that it was Edwina that he had just smiled at and not some hapless woman waiting to be hit on, his smile dipped into a suspicious frown.

"I didn't think you drank," he muttered, nodding at Will with a mocking, "you either, eunuch. Don't seem the type."

"Sure I drink. Just not so much with you."

His frown deepened—only to lift the moment a bottle was settled in front of him with a thump. Jack took a long swig before his gaze returned to the pair at his side. "Hmph. I'd almost take that as a compliment coming from you, love."

"Of course you would."

"Jack," Will inserted himself between the glaring pair with a beleaguered sigh. "Did we only come here so you could get piss drunk? I think you could have just done that on the boat."

"Couldn't't've," Jack replied nonsensically. "There's no more rum."

"Is this the only place to buy some, then?"

Jack took another long dreg, squinting at Will with his head tilted sideways, before deciding on something. "I've come to this bar, on this island, mate, because of the types of people that frequent this kind of bar on this kind of island."

"Prostitutes, you mean," Edwina supplied cheerfully.

"Sailors."

"I don't think those dresses would make for good sailing."

He narrowed his eyes at her shrewdly. "The men here in this type of place are the same men that are going to row us to find your little pretty Governor's daughter, eh? So, yes, dear William, we did have to come to this bar for this rum. No better way of finding a crew than waiting for the drunks to get their tabs at the end of the night that they can't pay."

"Right," Will deadpanned. "Drunks and beggars are going to be our sailors. Wonderful."

Jack pointed an unsteady hand at Will. "Careful who you call drunks and beggars, eh? There's all types lurking in places like this. In fact, I'd almost be inclined to say that you are a beggar. All for a woman, eh?"

The tension between them could have been cut with a knife. And, honestly, if Edwina wasn't tired of their antics.

"Will," she elbowed him sharply. "If drunks and beggars are going to crew the ship, then drunks and beggars are going to crew the ship. It's for a purpose."

"Ay, lass," Jack cooed, smiling something sickly. "It's for a purpose."

"Besides," she continued, a sickly sweet smile of her own aimed right at Jack, "drunks and beggars will fit right in with our Captain. Perhaps their mutual feeling of hopelessness will bond them together for a greater purpose. Eh, Captain?"

He pointed a finger at her, wavering in the air. "Just because you're a lady with the bits and the pieces doesn't mean I'll stand for such talk."

Edwina raised a brow at him, eyes lingering on how he swayed against the bar top. "If you have another unfortunate run in with a lady tonight, I don't think you'll be standing come morning."

"Heh, you offering?"

Edwina slapped Jack across the face with a sharp smack that had her skin hurting. It seemed to surprise Will as much as it did their Captain, and as Jack soothed the skin with his palm, both men looked at her with wide-eyed stares.

"What?" she shrugged, taking a single moment to finish off her drink, before chirping, "isn't that what all the women here do, Captain?"

Jack said nothing.

She suspected that there was nothing to be said in such a lull of conversation anyway, so rather than stick around in hopes he would learn the English language, she just tugged Will by the wrist towards the door.

"What did you do that for?"

"I thought you wanted to leave?"

"Well, I did," he argued, frowning. "I didn't think you would slap him, though."

"Should I slap you next?"

[coltrevolver]

I think what cemented my 100% belief that I am captain spaulding was when the lost rejects site bios were finally found and literally 2 years before I had said facts that were then consolidated in them as my own "kin memories"

[doctorwhoisadhd]

btw i am putting together a fucked up watch order that involves 12 AND jack

[traffys-heart]

one piece men + dick hcs | nsfw

im back w something that no one asked for but i thought i would do something different to get the creative juices flowing again (*°ｰ°)ﾉ

characters: monkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, vinsmoke sanji, portgas d. ace, sabo, eustass kid, killer, trafalgar d. law

cw: virgin! loser! law, afab! reader, dick language idk

monkey d. luffy

tip hex code: #fe9796

luffy's dick is canonically the largest in the one piece world according to an sbs but if it wasn't being stretched i would say 5.4 inches at full erection normally. he is quite average and enjoys any attention u give to the base. he doesn't have any prominent veins running along his shaft and some might say it looks like a strange mushroom...

roronoa zoro

tip hex code: #e6998f

zoro is beefy and his cock definitely reflects that as well. he's larger than his captain coming in at 6.6 inches, but his true quality would be the girth. he has a wonderful vein running along the underside of him that u swear u can feel when he's inside u despite his bashfulness abt the topic. and yes, he also has a trail of mossy pubic hair surrounding his shaft.

vinesmoke sanji

tip hex code: #feabab

sanji comes in at 7.1 so ig he can thank his dad for something. he is slimmer than zoro and has a slight curve to his shaft, however it feels amazing whenever he fucks u in doggy position or over the counter in the kitchen. his tip is incredibly sensitive and he often avoids touching it himself when he jacks off but if u kiss it when u go down on him he'll almost cum immediately.

portgas d. ace

tip hex code: #ff9090

ace probably won the genetic lottery for parents. he was also blessed w a big dick coming in at 7.0 inches. he has two veins that run on either side of him and despite his leaner build he has a notable girth. he has dark happy trail that welcomes u into his shorts and a bush he will never shave. he likes when u play w his balls.

sabo

tip hex code: #ffc1c1

sabo has a very polite appearance, but his dick is everything but that. he's 6.8 inches and the slapping noise when his cock hits his abdomen tells u ur not going on any missions any time soon. similar to his little brother he doesn't have any prominent veins, but his shaft is well proportioned. he is also very well groomed and takes care of his patch of darker blond curls.

eustass kid

tip hex code: #edb7b0

big guy is going to have a big dick okay i don't make the rules. it's 7.5 inches and angry u almost wanna yell at it when he whips it out. it's veiny and girthy and it's begging to be sucked. i think he would also have some piercings such as a king albert's piercing and ofc it was diy.

killer

tip hex code: #ebada5

just like his captain it's huge and far more intimidating than anything else u've ever seen. killer is 7.2 so he's slightly smaller, and he doesn't have any piercings, but don't worry what he lacks in comparison to kid he makes up in passion. his shaft curves to the left which works wonderfully when he gets u on ur side w on ur legs hooked over his shoulder rubbing on ur g-spot.

trafalgar d. law

tip hex code: #e8a39a

as much as i want to give this loser a shrimp dick i'll probably see riots in my inbox and i saw this really funny panel from one piece party where the gang compares his dick to zunesha so he's probably hung. he clocks in at 6.9 but lies and tells u it's 7 inches. he's also always wearing the tightest skinny jeans known to man in the anime and u never see anything there so i'm gonna assume he's a grower not a shower.

[invincibledc]

⋆˚꩜｡𝐁𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐓

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 (𝐎𝐂) �� 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐎!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

AU: athlete!Jack Quinn x nerd!batbro!reader

Synopsis: when over hearing a couple of guys trying to jump a certain bat, he shows them a real bat.

Genre: oneshot

Info: this OC is an OC I’ve written for my own amusement. He’s the son of Harley Quinn and joker. Full name, Jacklyn Oswald Quinn. I got bored. Reader is the twin brother of Damian, but Damian is the older twin of course. Im only a writer so you can imagine who he looks more like but all I can is he is handsome canonically in my head and anything. Boy’s crazy but handsome.

Warning: possessiveness, violence + blood, yanderish ofc

Word count: 1,571

On a slightly cloudy day, the bell at Gotham Academy rang sharply, signaling students to get to class. In one particular stall, a Wayne and a Quinn were unmistakably present.

Jack kissed you hard, his lips crashing against yours. The glasses you wore were getting fogged up by how hot it was getting.

Jack broke the kiss, his lips lingering against your neck as his hands gripped your hips tightly, leaving a mark that was sure to bruise.

He didn’t care; it was just a sign that you belonged to him. As he glanced at your dazed expression, a low chuckle escaped him.

“Already lost in space?” he teased, his naturally hoarse voice pulling you back to reality. You shook your head, unwilling to speak, wary of what might spill out.

“Hm, looks like the bird doesn’t want to chat. That’s fine,” he said with a smirk, giving your lips a soft peck before locking his gaze onto yours. He squeezed your hips again, firm and possessive.

“Alright, nerd. Get to class.” With one hand, he swung open the stall door and nudged you out. You rolled your eyes while adjusting your uniform, unable to hide your irritation.

“Such a gentleman,” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your voice. Jack leaned against the sink counter in the bathroom, rolling his eyes as he dismissed you with a wave.

“Whatever, sweetheart. Just consider yourself lucky I went easy on you this time.” A crooked smirk spread across his face as you shot him a pointed look.

“Fuck off,” you shot back, turning on your heel and leaving him alone in the bathroom. “Love you,” he called after you, his tone dripping with mock sweetness. He relished your frustration, savoring the taste of your lips lingering on his. But his smirk vanished as two of his teammates entered.

“Well, well, well, look who it is—the baseball captain,” Joseph said, flashing a smug grin. “Wilkins,” Jack replied flatly, his expression unchanged. He turned his attention to the other teammate, a guy with a bandage on his face and messy black hair. “Elijah.”

“So, how's it going with Daisy?” Elijah asked, glancing around the stalls, making sure they weren’t overheard. Jack raised an eyebrow, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stood tall.

“Me and her broke up. On good terms,” Jack stated firmly. Wilkins let out a disbelieving hum, but he shrugged it off. “Damn, so you’ve been single for, what, four months? What happened to the guy who could get any girl he wanted?”

Jack pushed Wilkins back, irritation flashing in his eyes. “Back off,” he growled, his voice resonating with a deeper edge.

Wilkins stood there, visibly taken aback as he collided with Elijah. “Hey, take it easy!” Elijah exclaimed, trying to diffuse the tension. Wilkins collected himself, nodding in acknowledgment. “Seriously, man, are you and Daisy really on good terms? You seem a bit too fired up.” Wilkins shot back with a grin as he and Elijah exchanged a high-five.

Jack felt a wave of irritation wash over him, and he scrunched up his nose in disdain. With a deep sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut tight. “What do you want?” he demanded, his tone leaving no room for nonsense.

The two boys looked at each other, “We’re planning on getting someone. A lil jumping session.” Jack scoffed, getting ready to leave.

“First of fucking all, why tell me. I don't fight anymore.” Jack starts to leave, opening the boy’s bathroom door.

“It's Y/N Al Ghul-Wayne!”

Jack paused, his eyes widening. The two boys smirked, “You wanna join us on the beating him up? He didn't apologize for bumping into us in the hallway. Little shit talked back so we’re gonna give him shit.” Elijah finished talking when Jack fully turned around.

Cold dark blue eyes stared at them before he gave a crooked smile.

“Sure. I’ll join you guys.”

♦︎

“Brother,” Damian states firmly, holding the silverware with a tense grip. “Your boyfriend is here.” You raise an eyebrow, giving him a fake skeptical look. Already preparing to lie.

“Boyfriend? I don't have a—” Jason held Jack by his black hoodie. Jason has a bloody nose and Jack has a shit-eating grin, showing his canines as he purrs for you.

“Hey, listen up.” Jason forcefully tosses the blonde-haired boy into the room. “Y/n, you and your rat have exactly five minutes to talk, and after that, he’s out. I need to see Alfred,” he states, locking eyes with Jack, who simply cackles in response. “Round 2? Someone's eager, old man.” Jason’s eye twitched in irritation before he exited the room, leaving you to sigh at the two of them.

Damian followed Jason, refusing to acknowledge the annoyance of your so-called “boyfriend.”

It was just you and Jack now, and he pressed himself against you, his breath mingling with the clean scent that surrounded you. “You took a shower,” he stated, clearly reveling in the way your body responded with each movement.

You had flicked his forehead, cursing in Arabic under your breath. “Stop being weird, beloved,” you said firmly despite the softness of your face.

Jack pressed his lips against yours, then placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I can’t help it; I just have to admire my cute boy.” He purred, anticipation building as he prepared to join you in bed.

But just as he was getting comfortable, your foot made firm contact with his chest, leaving him momentarily breathless.

“Oof!” he hit the ground, but after a moment, he pushed himself up with a wide grin, his tousled blonde hair a testament to the impact. “You know, if I had known you were going to hit me, I would have made a point to let you win.” You rolled your eyes, removing your glasses and fixing him with a steady gaze.

“Spit it out, Quinn. Why are you here, you never come through the front door.” Jack’s face fell to match your seriousness.

“Of course babe. Okay, some guys are scheming to catch you off guard and try to jump you. But I ain't lettin' that happen.” Jack stood up, cracking his neck, and his signature crazed smile reached his face.

“I’ll deal with the guys,” he moves towards you, cupping your face. “and you just stay here, being your cute little self.” rolling your eyes despite melting at his touch, you nodded. Giving him a soft kiss on his lips, Jack almost broke the small kiss for a make-out sesh when Jason burst in with his gun.

“Alright! You wanna date my little brother and break my fuckin' nose!?” Jack jolts from you, “AW MAN! YOU RUINED THE MOMENT!” Jack then hops out of your window, not caring for the height as he knows how to break his fall. Jason rushed downstairs, “HE’S DEAD!” you could only sigh.

Laying down Titus walked into your room and hopped on your bed.

“At least you aren't that protective of me.” Titus barked before yawning with you.

♦︎

Elijah and Wilkins entered the alley, completely unaware of the dark eyes watching them intently. Jack’s deep blue eyes stood out sharply against the usual hue of his surroundings. With a ski mask pulled tight over his face, he was ready for this.

In his strong right hand, Jack gripped a bat, swinging it confidently over his shoulder. Perched on a fire escape, he had the perfect vantage point, having lured them to this very spot with a message claiming he had you cornered.

“Where the hell is he at?” Wilkins said, squinting his eyes around the alley. Elijah nodded, “Like dude, I know Jack is such a fuckin' weirdo. But jeez.”

Jack paused before descending, his voice low and deliberate. “So I’m weird now?” he said, his deep, rough tone prompting the two boys to pivot and face him. He tapped the bat against his black Nike Air Forces with a firm rhythm.

“Yknow. I never liked you both, never did. But hey, life is life.” Wilkins and Elijah stared at each other before starting to run, already knowing how batshit crazy the blonde boy can be.

Jack hummed a tune as he walked, “Run little piggies! Run!” he called out, his voice sending shivers through their body.

The moment the two boys thought they were safe, running into another alley. Jack grabbed Elijah around the corner with his hand showing his veins. Elijah let out a scream before he was out of view from Wilkins who stayed quiet.

Wilkins covers his mouth, scared to even speak.

There was a clear loud BANG of the metal bat hitting a skull. Wilkins heard no more noises, no screaming or footsteps. He stayed still until he looked down to see blood pooling below his feet.

He couldn't help but yelp, but that was a grave mistake as he turned around to see crazed blue eyes, and a bat swinging at him.

It was too late as the bat hit him on the side of his head. Cracking his head wide open.

“Gotcha! Two little piggies down.” Jack hummed, taking off his ski mask. His full black clothes, not showing any blood which he liked.

He hide the bodies, humming a tune, throwing away and burning the clothes he freshly bought along with the ski mask and gloves.

And now he is crawling back to you for your warmth.

Jack Quinn tag: @xxxryukifukuxxx @lockofspades @sramoonlight @darkfaethedestroyer @gayartisticandlonely @sleeping-l0s3rs @itsmonicabc @dead-ry-walking @fanaticf1fan @cxcilla @wolffrankie @jellystar-star @nayykura @nickithearticorn @deadwillow240 @nightblanc

[fully-embracing-my-autopsy]

It is pretty close, and Jack did have a blue one

so um... im looking at the 14th doctor photos for reference and his coat looks kinda familiar

and then im like "holy shit jack"

obv jack has raf wwii overcoat, completely different but like the style and built of it.. like maybe im overthinking it

but look

now jack

yall this might be hella of a stretch but it would be so sweet if the coat he has was based on his old companion and friend overcoat. that he never forgot about him

[zepskies]

Outlander - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won? 

AN: Happy Birthday, Dean Winchester!! 🥳 Now, the actual grand finale…

Disclaimer: I first got inspired to write The Honorable Choice for @jacklesversebingo after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (with a tinge of Yellowstone in the mix). I’ve done a fair bit of research for this now ongoing series, both on the Native American Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s; AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Protective Dean, survival situations, blood and violence, angst, fluff, and spice.~

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 4: One People

Dean straps on his bow and arrow, but first he takes up his gun from his thigh holster. Then he saddles up Mato and climbs up on his back.

The horse is raring to go, and for once he responds to the firmness of Dean’s tone and trusts him enough to obey his commands.

Šóta, Otaktay, and the other men do the same with their horses. Soon, they’re thundering down the hill into the village.

It’s already chaos.

Dean recognizes the blue uniforms of the U.S. Cavalrymen tearing through tipis and shooting with rifles and revolvers. They must’ve tracked Šóta and his men back to the village.

Men and horses are the main targets, but women and children are getting caught in the crossfire. Šóta purposefully knocks his horse into an officer who had his weapon aimed at Misae and her two daughters. Otaktay guides them in the opposite direction, pointing the way to escape into the forest.

Dean rides onward through the village. He and Mato leap over fallen bodies and horses, and Dean shoots at an officer who would’ve shot him first. He has to be careful with his bullets though. He only has two left.

He fights his way to the center, all the while searching for any sight of Mila’s dark hair. It’s almost impossible to see with so many people running and screaming and fighting. But when he hears a familiar voice, Dean cuts to an abrupt stop.

Chief Tahatan rides his horse, white and dappled black. He wields an ax as the horse rears up on his hind legs and lets loose a powerful bray. Just ahead of him is Colonel Sanderson, flanked by Benny and another officer. The Colonel holds a rifle poised in his hands.

“Stop!” Dean shouts.

He rides hard towards the scene. He takes aim with his gun, and he shoots. The bullet clips Sanderson in the shoulder. Yelling in pain, he recoils from the force of the bullet and misses his shot.

Dean’s just not fast enough.

The Colonel’s bullet ricochets off the ground and hits Tahatan’s horse. The animal whinnies and buckles, and he brings Tahatan down along with him, rolling onto his side and crushing the Chief’s legs and most of his torso under the horse’s weight. Dean hears the crunch of bone as the Chief utters a stifled grunt.

Gritting his teeth, Dean brings Mato to a short stop in front of the Chief. Dean aims his gun at the Colonel. By now, the man is clutching his bleeding shoulder and staring at his former captain in disbelief. Benny is maybe a little less shocked to see Dean, but there’s conflict in his eyes—happiness mixed with turmoil.

The other officer is Jack Kline. He recognizes Dean too, with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

“You…” Sanderson trails. He blinks, his brows furrowing. “Dean Winchester.”

Other officers come to join him, both on their horses and on foot. A few of them have wrangled women and their children, along with a few men. One man is dragging Mila along by the arm, even though she pulls and struggles against his hold. He has a long, jagged cut over one closed eye that streams with blood, and Dean doesn’t have to wonder how it got there. The man holds Mila’s own knife to her throat.

Dean’s heart falls into his stomach as he meets her gaze. Hers is angry, until she finds him. Her brown eyes are relieved and hopeful, but then worried for him. Dean reads it all there. He knows her face as well as he knows his own.

“Now this is what we call an interesting development,” Sanderson says, dragging Dean’s attention back to him.

Dean only feels moderately better when Šóta, Otaktay, Chatan, and a couple of the other men come to flank him on either side. Weaya manages to shuffle away from the officer at her back, just to go to Tahatan. He’s still lying there under his horse, breathing shallowly. Šóta itches to climb down from his horse and go to his father, but he can’t allow Dean to stand on his own.

“Apparently your death has been greatly exaggerated, son,” Sanderson says. He glances at Benny, who wears a grim, guilty frown.

“I’m not your fucking son,” Dean says, his voice laden with grit. His hand tightens on his raised gun.

Sanderson tsks at him while Jack wraps a rag tightly around his arm to help stem the bleeding. Afterwards, he adjusts his blue jacket and his Stetson.

“Is this really how you’ve been living for all these months? Like a dog, sleeping in the thatch with the fleas,” he remarks as he glances around. But his gaze stops on Mila. His brows crunch together as recognition dawns in his eyes.

“Ah, now I see why,” he says. He reaches for his pistol at his belt and points it at Mila, like it’s merely an extension of his hand. Dean’s jaw clenches. Chatan and Šóta become even more tense; their horses shift in place, picking up on their riders’ unrest. Sanderson notes their reactions, and finally Dean’s too.

“Instead of putting this savage bitch down, you took her for yourself, didn’t you?” Sanderson wonders aloud. His face breaks into amusement, as his deep chuckle echoes in the clearing. “You threw it all away. A promising career, your respect as a man, and even your life. A traitor to your goddamn country. And for what?”

His thumb pulls back the safety on his revolver.

“Enough, you bastard. You deal with me,” Dean tersely demands. He slowly lowers his gun, and his last bullet. “Let her go. Let them all go, and you can have me. Court martial me. Hell, put me in front of a firing squad, or put me down like a dog if that’s what you want… But let them go.” 

Mila breaths in sharply. She stares at Dean like she wants to protest.

“Ah, but ya see, I didn’t come here for you,” Sanderson says. Without taking his aim off Mila, his shifts his gaze down to Tahatan, who struggles for every breath. “I’m gonna wash this land clean, from here to the West Coast. However long it takes.”

“Colonel!” an officer calls out. He approaches on a horse, though he leads a man by a rope that ties his wrists behind his back.

Dean’s eyes widen in shock. It’s Cas, and he has Sam as his captive. Sam is dirtier and more disheveled since Dean saw him off not too long ago. He’s lost his hat and his horse, but he doesn’t look afraid when he meets Dean’s gaze, then the assessing Colonel.

“Mr. Winchester. I should’ve known,” Sanderson says dryly. “Here to reacquaint yourself with your brother? Though I’ve got a feeling you already have.”

“What’re you gonna do about it? Kill me?” Sam says. “In case you’ve forgotten, I work for the government too. I’m a prosecutor for all the surrounding counties in Kansas City.”

Sanderson raises a brow. “Is that supposed to intimidate me, son?”

“It should, Colonel,” Sam says. He nods at his brother. “The world already thinks he’s dead. Fine. But there’s plenty of people who know I traveled to Fort Laramie. People high up in the chain of command. If you hurt me, my brother, or these people, someone’s gonna hear about it. And soon.”

“He’s got a point there, Colonel,” Benny says.

“You shut the fuck up!” Sanderson barks at his captain. “You’re lucky I don’t shoot you down where you stand. You and Novak. But believe you me, I’ll be dealin’ with you later.”

Sanderson continues to seethe. He thinks hard about the decision he makes next as he stares down at Sam, and then back up at Dean. He grits his teeth, his mustache twitching. Dean holds his breath, though he briefly meets eyes with his brother.

Slowly, Sanderson lowers his weapon away from Mila. Dean can breathe again, if shallowly. He doesn’t drop his guard though. In fact, he watches Sanderson even closer.

“I’ll give you dirty mongrels one hour to clear out of here,” Sanderson says, his eyes narrowed. “Anything left gets tied down and burned to charcoal.”

With that, he sharply tugs on his horse’s reins. He commands his men to fall back, and like the soldiers they are, they obey. Benny and Cas both cast Dean a backwards glance—one that tells Dean that he still has the loyalty of his friends. He now realizes that Cas brought Sam back for a purpose; it wasn’t to hurt him, but to help him. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole “capture” was Sam’s idea.

After the soldiers clear out of the area with the Colonel, Dean and the other men dismount from their horses. He beelines for Mila, gathering her into the safety of his arms. Then he spares a hand to grab his brother’s shoulder as he smiles.

“I think I’m more glad to see you the second time,” Dean remarks.

“I’ll take that,” Sam says. His grin is infectious, but Dean returns his attention to his wife. He touches her cheek and runs his assessing gaze over her body. He frowns as he examines the thin cut along her neck where the soldier pressed the blade of her knife.

“You okay? Are you hurt?” he asks.

Mila shakes her head. “I’m fine.” Though she inspects him the same way with a wandering hand across his chest. Dean takes that hand and gives her a reassuring smile.

It falls when he hears Weaya crying. She sits beside three other women, including Šóta’s mother.

“Father,” Šóta says lowly. His voice is a rasp as he kneels beside Tahatan’s broken body, holding his hand. The chief manages to raise his head slightly. He looks at his son, and then his gaze travels. Eventually, it falls on Dean.

Tahatan smiles.

“Under this sky,” he says. “We are one people.”

 He takes three more labored breaths before his eyes close. Šóta lays his father’s limp hand over his chest, which no longer moves.

Šóta’s mother gently raises her husband’s head to remove his long headdress. Among other things, it’s made of leather, glass beads, horsehair, and eagle tail feathers. Each feather represents a warrior’s honor earned in war, like a soldier’s insignia. 

With shaking hands, she places it on Šóta’s head. He takes a deep breath, and he looks up at the many tear-stained faces that mirror his own.

“We have to go,” he says.

Sam stays to help mobilize the tribe. He helps a mother join her children into one of the caravans, then he and Otaktay heft rolled up tipis and supplies into the back of it.

“You are a law man?” Otaktay asks him.

Sam nods. “That’s right.”

“Make better laws,” Otaktay says, and walks away.

Sam is left with a bemused look on his face. Dean comes over and thumps him on the back.

“Making friends?” he says dryly.

“Don’t think so,” Sam replies. He shakes his head and follows his brother over to the second caravan.

“Eh, consider yourself lucky. That guy pretty much hates my guts,” Dean whispers.

Sam raises his brows. “What?”

Dean explains the story in its simplest, briefest terms. Meanwhile, the mood around their packing is somber and quiet.

For Mila, it feels wrong. It’s wrong for them to have to leave the river where they’ve tilled and nurtured the land for three generations. It’s wrong to leave Chief Tahatan’s body wrapped beside Takoda’s on the hill without at least one proper night of mourning. She feels her grief down to her very core, but all she can do is sit in the caravan beside her mother and hold protective hands around the small swell of her stomach. Her tears fall silently down her cheeks and dissolve between the indigo beads on her dress.

She only raises her head when Chatan comes to check on her and her mother. He touches Mila’s cheek, drying her tears there. He leans in to kiss Weaya’s hand.

“We leave soon,” he says.

“Where is Dean?” Mila asks.

“Helping Šóta,” Chatan replies, but he stops short and corrects himself. “He helps our Chief.”

A few moments later, the caravans begin to move as the horses pull with the reins. Šóta leads at the front with a few of the warriors, but the rest of them ride strategically around and behind the caravans. Sam and Dean fall back to ride beside Mila’s caravan, where Chatan sits at the helm. Sam has been given the horse of a fallen warrior, while Dean rides Mato.

Despite how low she feels, Mila smiles at the sight of her horse allowing Dean to ride him, even with a saddle and bridle.

“Mato is being agreeable,” she remarks.

“You sound surprised,” Dean says, teasing slightly. “Told you I’d get him to trust me eventually.”

“More like wear him down,” she quips back.

“Hey, he impregnated my mare. Without my say so, I might add. I’d say we’re proper father and son-in-law.”

“Yes,” Chatan chimes in wryly. “That is what that means.”

Mila scoffs at him, but the gleam of good humor in his eyes amuses her. She smiles as she rubs a hand over her belly. Dean smiles too. It’s strange that he can still do that after a night like tonight, but seeing Chatan do it, along with Sam, and Mila, and her mother too, it gives him hope for them—for all of them.

Until the first gunshot fires into the air.

Dean freezes. His body coils tight, and he turns to look sharply over his shoulder.

He shouldn’t be surprised that Colonel Sanderson went back on his word. His cavalrymen are gaining behind them on horseback, hooting and hollering like it’s a game for sport. His jaw clenching in both anger and determination, Dean tells Chatan to speed up the caravan. He locks eyes with Mila for a moment.

Be safe, he tries to say with that look.

Then he gives Sam a nod; together they speed up to alert Šóta at the front.

“They’re gaining on us,” Dean says, gesturing behind them. “We need to lead them away from the caravans and pick ‘em off—as many as we can.”

Šóta nods in grim agreement, but he has a moment of hesitation as he considers Dean.

“You go with the caravans,” he says.

Dean shakes his head. “No, I’m ending this. Once and for all.”

“You are willing to fight your people?” Šóta asks.

The set of Dean’s determined face doesn’t change.

“I’m protecting my people,” he says. He looks to Sam. “Stay with the caravans. Make sure they get across the river.”

Sam agrees, and the men split ways. Dean turns Mato away from the group along with Šóta and Otaktay, and a few other warriors. The caravans continue with Sam to help guide them. Mila clings to the edge and watches with growing dread as her husband rides farther and farther away from her.

Dean can’t allow himself to look back. Instead of drawing his gun, he reaches for his bow strapped to his back and an arrow from his quiver. He takes aim at the first soldier he sees raise his gun, along with a steadying breath, and he shoots his arrow before the other man can fire. The arrow embeds itself in the man’s chest and knocks him clean off his horse.

Šóta and Otaktay follow suit. They shout out yips and battle cries on the air as they take aim. The soldiers begin to scatter out of their formation. They weren’t expecting the Lakota to go on the offensive. Sanderson has conveniently let his men ride ahead of him, but Dean hears him giving the orders from behind. The Colonel has his left arm wrapped in a sling while he holds his gun aloft.

“All right, mustang,” Dean says to Mato, tightening his hands on the reins. “Remind ‘em why they should be scared a’ you.”

He gives the stallion a subtle kick. It’s just enough for him to pick up into a full gallop. Dean tucks his head down and lets the horse speed forward like a bullet carving across the plain. The soldiers take aim, but that’s when Šóta and Otaktay join in from behind. They begin to take down the uniformed men, one by one as they weave between bullets. 

Dean tears between two officers and unbalances them. Mato, with his big head and chest, bulldozes straight through them. They shout in surprise and fear, and one of them even topples off his horse. Dean banks left and turns Mato around to finish what he started.

He retrieves his knife from his thigh holster and slices into one man’s neck, making him choke on his own blood. Dean forcefully takes the rifle off another man, and after flipping it around, hits him dead between the eyes with the butt of it—once, then twice until his nose breaks. He careens back off his horse into the dirt. Dean wracks the rifle and shoots the man for good measure.

The sound of a safety clicking back alerts him and turns his head, but he’s too late.

An arrow flies into the officer’s throat.

Dean looks over sharply. He finds Otaktay, lowering his bow.

Dean’s eyes widen. The other man just saved his life.

Dean nods in thanks, and Otaktay slowly returns the gesture. The moment is cut short, however, when Dean sharpens in alarm. Instead of opening his mouth to warn, he knows he has no time, not even to grab another arrow. He just throws his knife.

It carves through the air and hits Jack Kline where his arm meets his shoulder—his shooting arm that would’ve clipped Otaktay with his pistol. Jack falls off his horse and hits the ground hard, the air leaving his lungs in a hot rush. He groans in pain while clutching his arm. It’s not an easy wound, but he’ll live…as long as Otaktay doesn’t kill him first. Still on his horse, he towers over the younger man with another arrow notched.

“Wait!” Dean shouts.

He meant what he said about finishing this, but now looking at Jack, all Dean sees is a kid following orders. He doesn’t deserve to die like this, hundreds of miles away from home, just trying to make something of himself.

Otaktay looks up, wasting a precious second. Another beat, and a bullet tears into him, almost forcing him off his horse. Dean grits his teeth and speeds forward. Šóta rejoins them in time to help lead Otaktay away; he’s been hit in the side. There’s no telling how deep, but all Dean can focus on is the path ahead.

He comes face to face with Colonel Sanderson.

Dean raises his bow and arrow and ducks his head against another bullet, still shooting off his arrow. It misses its aim at the horse’s legs, but it spooks him enough to whinny in distress. It begins to buck off the Colonel.

“Whoa!” he shouts, trying to take back control of the horse. Dean rides in close and cracks a fist across Sanderson’s face. His head whips back with a pained grunt. Dean grabs his wrist and twists, until he feels tendons popping and the gun loosened from the other man’s hand. Then, Dean brings his elbow up into Sanderson’s nose and spills blood.

“Fuck!” Sanderson growls. He manages to land a punch of his own with his left arm, despite how it makes his shoulder bleed again. Dean recovers from the blow to his cheek and goes to grab that wound, digging in his fingers hard. He’s satisfied by the howl of pain Sanderson lets loose.

Dean doesn’t care if it’s a dirty tactic. He’s taking any opportunity he can, because right now, it’s not about his honor. It’s about protecting what’s his.

But Sanderson fights back just as dirty. He grabs Dean by the back of his neck and headbutts him, so hard he sees stars. Sanderson lands one more kick to Dean’s chest that almost sends him off of Mato. Dean has to grab on tight to the saddle and pull himself up, just in time for a lassoed rope to circle around his neck. Dean’s eyes fly wide in alarm. He slips his hand between the rope and his neck just in time before it tightens—because Sanderson tugs hard as he urges his horse into a gallop.

“Aw, sh—” Dean is yanked off Mato. He lands hard in the dirt, before he begins to be dragged across it.

Once again, the current is strong across Little Cheyenne. The first caravan has more horses to pull it through, but the caravan that Chatan is trying to lead starts to take on water. Mila and her mother sit behind him, along with Misae and her daughters, Tahatan’s widows, and Eyota and her husband.

The colt is doing his best to keep going, but Baby and two of the other horses are struggling in the pull of the river. They’ve hit a deeper patch under the water, and now it’s all the way up to Baby’s chest. She can’t handle the weight of the caravan along with the river’s current.

Sam comes closer with rope in hand, but Mila can see in his eyes that he’s trying to decide what to do. She grasps the edge of the caravan to pull herself up, and she points to the black mare.

“She needs help!” she calls out to him.

“Mila, sit down!” Chatan orders.

Mila turns back to her father with a determined set to her face. She knows his ankle has never healed entirely right. If he tries to do what she’s about to do, he’d probably fall into the river and get trampled by the horses. She knows what she must do.

She carefully stands up all the way and moves to the edge of the caravan, ignoring her father and mother trying to stop her. Sam’s eyes grow wide, but he tries to come in closer to support her. She steps out onto Baby’s back and slides into an astride position. The frigid water climbs up Mila’s dress and reaches her waist, making her shiver, but she ignores that too. She reaches out for Sam.

“Throw me the rope!” she calls out.

Sam follows her lead and does what she says. Mila not only catches the rope, but loops the ends of it around Baby’s bridle and around her chest. It’s hard work, especially because Mila has to tread water just to get the rope around the mare’s wide chest, but Sam helps her as much as he can.

When they’ve finished securing the ropes, Sam pulls ahead. With his horse leading Baby, she gets the momentum she needs to climb out of the dip, and eventually, cross the rest of the river.

Mila is sopping wet by the time they make it to the other side. Her braid has come loose, and so her hair becomes a black curtain around her face. She clings to Baby as she catches her breath, stroking the horse’s neck.

“Good girl. Big, strong girl,” she soothes. “Your father will be proud of you.”

Speaking of, Mila turns to look back. Across the river, the men are still fighting off the soldiers that sought to finish what they started last night. Mila scans with narrowed eyes for Dean.

“You all right?” Sam asks. He sidles up next to her and grasps her shoulder to make sure.

“Fine,” she breathes.

But she hesitates on a sharp inhale. Her brows furrow as she tries to make sure of what she’s seeing. Her mouth drops open in shock.

“Sam!” She points out the shape of a man she thinks is Dean. Sam follows her line of vision and becomes just as alarmed at what he sees.

Mila immediately takes her father’s knife from her shoe and cuts the ropes that bind Baby to the caravan. Mila puts her fingers to her lips and whistles sharply instead of kicking the mare. Baby sharpens to attention and heeds the command, just like she’s done for Dean a hundred times before.

Mila guides her back through the river.

Dean is being road hauled across the plain. He hits every bump, rock, twig, and dry patch of dirt in several yards as he twists and struggles to break free.

He lost his knife to save Otaktay, and he’s probably lost all his arrows along with his bow. Dean grits his teeth, as he can hear Sanderson’s insane hooting and hollering on the wind whipping past his ears, and not much else.

He doesn’t know where Šóta is, or if even Otaktay’s still alive, but his last thoughts aren’t about them. Instinctively, he thinks of his wife. It’s not even a coherent thought. It’s just her name, her face, her hand on his heart.

And the rope snaps.

Dean grunts as his momentum slows. He rolls across the dirt and grass to a stop. He probably has road burns and cuts and bruises all down his back, but at least he can stare up at the morning sun and breathe.

Heaving for free air, he tugs the rope from around his neck and shoves it off. He hears familiar horse hooves galloping his way. Somehow, he manages to raise his head.

Now, either the sun is playing tricks on him, or a black shape is thundering towards him.

Apparently, his eyes aren’t lying to him. Baby slows to a stop, and Mila climbs down from her back. Mila rushes to his side and kneels beside him after putting away her knife. She takes his face into her gentle hands.

“Dean?” she says, her voice tinged with desperation.

He grabs onto her wrist and smiles weakly, looking up at her soulful brown eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says.

She sighs and shakes her head, despite the tears in her eyes.

“Be quiet,” she laughs. Dean just grins.

She cups the back of his neck and guides him up slowly into a sitting position. His back is a bloody mess, but they’ll deal with that later.

“You all right, brother?”

Dean’s smile drops. He clutches at Mila’s arm protectively, but he looks up at Benny Lafitte. His horse shifts in place. Dean finally notices Sam is there too, with his gun trained on Benny. But Benny’s gun is raised right back at Sam.

They’re joined by Colonel Sanderson. He wears a self-satisfied look on his face as he approaches with his pistol held aloft.

“Well, well,” he drawls. “Ain’t this a picture. Traitors and savages.”

Mila keeps her back to the Colonel; she stubbornly defends Dean with her body, even though he’s gathered her to his chest protectively. With his right hand, he subtly reaches for the gun holster at his thigh. One last weapon. One last shot.

He shares a look with Mila, silently asking her to trust him. She gives him a subtle nod.

“Captain Lafitte,” Sanderson addresses Benny, even though his gaze is straight on Dean and Mila. He holds Sam in his periphery. “Now’s the time to take a stand. Are you gonna serve your country and put these three in the ground where they belong, or are you gonna join ‘em?”

Benny stares back at his superior officer. He thought he understood before, but today is when he truly understands why Dean made his choice.

Benny lowers his weapon down to his side.

“This ain’t the law,” he says. “This ain’t justice. It’s just pride, plain and simple. Your pride, Colonel.”

After a moment of genuine surprise, Sanderson rolls his eyes. He shifts his gun off of Sam and points it at Benny next.

A trigger fires, but the bullet that hits its mark is not the Colonel’s.

It’s Dean’s, and it hits Asmodeus Sanderson between the eyes.

Dean lowers his silver, smoking Colt down at his side, where Mila moved just in time for Dean to take his shot. He holds her to him now, taking in deep breaths.

Benny and Sam both look to Dean with shock still in their eyes, but before either of them can say anything, they notice Cas stumbling over on foot with a wounded Jack Kline leaning heavily on him. They’re flanked on both sides by Šóta and Otaktay. The latter has a cloth tied tight around his middle. His bullet wound just looks like a nasty graze.

The other warriors that remain follow behind, and they have Mato and Baby in tow by their bridles.

Dean realizes that Cas and Jack are the only other survivors from the rest of the unit. Šóta has taken them prisoner. He orders the other men to force Benny off of his horse. They shove him closer to Cas and Jack.

Dean quickly tries to raise up onto his knees, though it’s hard for him to stand. Mila helps him the rest of the way, and he keeps his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“We will make an example of these,” Šóta says, nodding at Cas, Jack, and Benny. They look rightly nervous, shifting their gazes towards Dean.

Dean raises his hands to placate Šóta (and hopefully reassure his friends).

“Šóta, I know these guys. They were my men,” he says. “They were just following the Colonel’s orders.”

“And what does that mean to me, Dean Winchester?” Šóta says. He climbs down from his horse, his headdress of feathers tousled as a breeze rushes through.

“It means they won’t follow us,” Dean says. “They won’t tell the Army what actually happened here. They’ll keep their word if I ask them to. So I’m asking you…trust me. Trust me like you’ve trusted me before.”

Šóta seems to consider it, even though he doesn’t exactly like the idea. Otaktay seems to like it even less.

“We won’t betray you, Chief,” Benny says to Šóta, and to the other warriors. “We respect you, and we don’t want any more trouble. For us, or for Dean.”

Šóta considers this with a tilt of his head. Before he decides, first, he turns to Otaktay. Other than Dean, he’s now the man Šóta trusts most.

Otaktay looks over at Dean. Between them, there’s an understanding. Finally, there’s also respect. Otaktay returns his gaze to his leader, and he nods.

Šóta expels a deep breath. He addresses the three soldiers.

“Go. Go in peace, or next time, there will not be peace,” he says.

The soldiers breathe in relief.

Dean steps forward with Mila’s help. There he shakes each man’s hand. He’s said goodbye to Cas and Benny before, but somehow, this feels even more final than the last.

Benny and Cas are given back their horses. They help Jack up first, then Cas climbs up with him. Benny mounts his own horse, and Sam, Dean, and the Lakota watch them leave the way they came.

It takes days to cross the plains and maneuver through the mountains, but Šóta leads the rest of the tribe to safety within Sioux territory. They find a place to settle along the Big Cheyenne River, northeast of the Black Hills.

There they will learn the land and what to plant and forage there for the late autumn harvest, as summer ends. There is where they will honor the dead who couldn’t make the journey. There is where their traditions will be celebrated, old and new.

Like today. The men have painted each other with blue circles around their faces and blue lines across their foreheads, chins, and cheekbones. The women are painted similarly in red. It symbolizes change in its many forms, but most of all, it symbolizes new relationships, and new responsibilities.

Today, it’s Huŋkápi. The Making of Relatives. This ceremony formally welcomes Dean into the tribe by marriage. It also recognizes Sam as his brother, and so, it acknowledges Sam as a friend to their tribe as well. They are now all family. One people.

Dean sits with his brother around the large firepit, where a roasted boar is already half-eaten. Dean has shared a lot of meals with these people, but somehow, this one is the best he’s ever eaten. Maybe it’s the company, he thinks, as he laughs at some old story Sam is trying to tell.

“No, no, no, that’s not what happened. Let me tell it—”

“What, so you can make stuff up?”

“Oh, I’m making stuff up?”

Mila giggles quietly, but it’s enough to earn Dean’s attention. She sits at his left, and he turns to her with an amused smile.

“What’re you laughing at?” he teases. His arm wraps around her waist and pulls her in.

“You,” she replies. “You and your brother. You’re worse than me and Šóta.”

Dean chuckles and shakes his head. He points over at her cousin, their esteemed Chief, who’s busy making shadow creatures with exaggerated voices to impress the kids. Right now, it’s a big grizzly bear that threatens to eat the closest child.

“Worse than the grizzly?” Dean says.

“Hmm, maybe not,” she says with a laugh.

That evening, Dean is glad he convinced Sam to start sleeping in his own tipi. He agreed to stay until Mila has the baby, but while Dean is grateful to have his brother here for a few more months, he still wants some much-needed privacy with his wife.

He “helps” her undress for bed, all the while distracting her with lingering kisses across her neck and shoulders, winding his fingers into her long hair. He wraps his arms around her and cups her full breasts from behind, satisfied by the arousing way she moans.

“They’re heavier,” Dean whispers in her ear, gently squeezing her breasts. She hums in response. “Your thighs and hips are thicker too, nice and soft for me.” He squeezes those too for good measure.

“I am changing,” she admits. “Are they good changes?”

“Hell yeah,” Dean says, his lips moving against her throat. He gently turns her around and guides her down to lay on the bedding and furs. He palms at the best change of all—the growing swell of her belly. She’s gotten bigger, and growing a little more each week. Dean really wants to meet his kid.

He dips down to lay a path of slow, tender kisses down between her breasts, and over her belly. Mila smiles and threads her fingers through his hair. It’s getting long, brushing past his ears.

“Do you want a son, or a daughter?” she asks him. It’s not the first time she’s asked, but she wonders if his answer will change now, after everything they’ve gone through to get here. She finds that her own answer hasn’t changed.

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t care. Either one.”

All he wants is for the baby to be healthy, and for Mila to be healthy too. He moves back up to claim her lips. When he kisses her like this, he hopes she knows what he’s really saying. Just in case, he says it anyway. He says it out loud to her for the first time.

“I love you,” he says. He pauses, then smiles a little. “You know, you’re the only woman I’ve ever said that to.”

She smiles, because she knows. With her hand over his heart, she knows.

And when their son is born a few months later, she has a dream. She dreams of an eagle’s wings that shift from white to gold in the light.

Dean plans to give him a name he picked out weeks before, Elijah. It was his father’s middle name. But she will also give their son a name.

Ikíphi, the name her uncle, Chief Tahatan, gave Dean Winchester himself.

Because one day, she knows her son will be worthy of it.

AN: And there we have it! A more definitive end to Dean and Mila's story. 🥹

For those of you who read and enjoyed this, thank you so much for sticking with me through this sequel of The Honorable Choice. This was an idea that wouldn't let go of me once I started, and it's the first time that I've written something like this. 💖💖

Pronunciation Guide:

Wašíču ("wash-ee-jew") Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Otaktay ("ogh-tac-tay") Weaya ("we-ayy-ya") Takoda ("ta-koda") Mato ("matt-toe") Misae ("mee-sah-eh")

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[leaentries]

Omg no one writes nico fics the WY you do, each one an absolute banger

Something I think would be really funny is is Mrs.Cap and Jack had really weird "beef" like both just constantly competing over who nico likes more or for his attention or who gets to sit next to him at get togethers, etc. and they're constantly at eachothers throats (jokingly ofc) and everyone on the team knows about it and I think nico would be so amused.

Bonus points if they're like childhood best friends and this beef has been going on since before nico, like how siblings fight/argue

AHHH THANK YOUUU <333

okay so they 100% do! mrs.cap met luke originally at a bar and that’s how she met nico. luke and mrs.cap are attached at the hip if she’s not with nico.

neeks def gets annoyed when luke takes her away

but mrs.cap and jack bicker all the time. like they love each other to death, but it’s always an argument with them. similarly to the way that nico gets annoyed with luke, same goes with jack and mrs.cap.

there has been multiple instances when she’ll be coming home from class, wanting nothing more than to cuddle up to nico, but when she walks through the door, who is she met with? jack.

jack is kind of just always there, especially when he and his brother are bored. they practically LIVE at the hischier residence.

games nights always end up being mrs.cap & luke vs nico & jack.

this once time, they were all hanging out with some of the other teammates and they all decided to play mario cart.

bad idea.

within a span of 15 mins the only two playing were jack and mrs.cap and when i say they were yelling? i mean SCREAMING at each other. the rest of the team just sat there listening to them insult each other (playfully) like 👀 it was a scary night.

let’s just say two broken controllers and a ripped couch pillow later, mario cart was banned forever.

the captain’s girl masterlist

[the-blackened-pearl]

half-baked sparrington idea pspspspspspspsps

post-cotbp. jack and james end up stuck in like. something. a cave system? a jungle temple? idk. something where they are trapped inside and their respective crews outside. gasp it's the 'forced to work together' trope !! double gasp maybe there's a tentive truce made between the Dauntless and the Pearl to rescue their respective commodore/captain. ofc during the whole time there's the underscoring knowledge of 'i will have to turn this man in/this guy's gonna turn me in' so at the end of the adventure jack ofc gives them all the slip and the Pearl takes off, with James, cursing wildly, giving chase

ah, romance <3

if u want angst this could be the precursor to the hurricane. a storm could be brew off the coast. as they set sail. eheheheheh. i am an angst gremlin. just ask my main fandom. i torment them. eheheheheheh.

[hatussy]

young god 🝑 01 | prologue

pairing: jack abbot x ofc!nerida warnings: violence, sacrifice, no jack yet (soz) word count: 651

summary: in which poseidon takes pity on her

author's note: welcome to my mermaid/light keeper au i hope u enjoy ur stay <3

prologue | masterlist | one

SOMEWHERE IN THE MEDITERRANEAN | 2484 BC

“Papa!” The child wailed as she was grabbed roughly by one of the crewmen and thrown over his shoulder.

The child, no older than nine rotations of the Earth, struggled to push herself up. Her hands gripping the fabric hanging loosely from the man’s shoulders, using it to anchor herself as she used what little strength she had to push herself upright so she could see her father rifling through a small pouch of gold coins he’d received for her.

The hurt and betrayal she felt had been amplified the second he walked off, not bothering to look back at his daughter screaming at the top of her lungs, begging him to come back. The passersby casting glances in the direction of her screaming, only to turn away in haste and busy themselves doing something else. No one interfered with a pirate’s business unless they wanted to be on the wrong end of a sword in the gut.

Her father, the man who was supposed to love and care for her, had sold her to a bunch of sleazy old pirates. She was to clean for them and cook for them, and if they were dissatisfied with their meals or anything else, she’d get caned. If she really peeved them off, she’d be thrown overboard like anyone else who dared cross them at sea.

It couldn’t have been any longer than another five rotations that she worked for the pirates. Marking a small knick in the wood on the underside of the bunk above her own to mark the passage of each day. Having learnt very quickly the ways of each man aboard the ship. Being caned each time she stepped out of line or spoke out of turn. Punished before she had the chance to ask for clarity, before she was punished again for doing the wrong thing. Learning that she was to be caned whether she’d done something correctly or not.

Yearning to be allowed to set foot on land whenever they docked, having risked her life time and time again to steal a loaf of bread to feed herself from after they all went to sleep. A small slice here and there. Lasting her until the next time they docked. The bread went stale after a day or two at sea, but the only source of nutrition she got until the captain became so intoxicated he let herself join the crew for a feast.

Though those days were becoming less and less as there hadn’t been much in the way of rum acquired in their travels. Taking to raiding ships, and losing men, if only for a single drop of rum. Growing more and more violent when their raids turned up empty. Storming small coastal towns for their booze supply and then drinking it all before they’d set sail for the next town.

In all her time with the crew aboard the Red Lady, never had they lain a hand on her – unless it was to punish for fucking up, – until the day that marked her fifteenth rotation when her own red lady had dawned. She screamed and fought and killed. Refusing to let any of them take what was hers. Throwing herself overboard before another had a chance to grab her. Using her last dying breath to speak to Poseidon, asking him to protect her from those monsters.

Sacrificing herself before they had the chance to kill her. But Poseidon gave her life once again, which was rare for a God to do for a mortal. She had proven herself worthy of receiving the gift, but she was now in debt to him. She was to spend the rest of her life as a mermaid – half woman, half fish, – an immortal who would rescue any other whose life had been put in jeopardy and had chosen the water to escape peril.

[heygerald]

Red Skies Warning: (POTC, 2003)

OFC x Captain Jack Sparrow

I am so pleasantly surprised at how many interactions I got on my first post, but then again it's not that surprising because I think POTC has a huge fandom and like... zilch written for it. It's unlawful, honestly. Jackie deserves so much more love than he gets.

The sea was, in lack of a better word, blue.

Not the type of blue that she was used to seeing. No, Edwina rarely did anything other than stare at the sea from the shoreline of Port Royal, and though the weather was fair and the island beautiful, seeing the white crest of waves in the distance that broke up the solemn blue of the ocean did not do it justice.

In reality, the sea wasn't just a wash of aquamarine, but turquoise, seafoam, navy and royal, with wafts of white, purple, and pink depending on the time of day. It was so clear that she could see schools of fish jolt near the surface, dolphins that played in the wake of the HMS Interceptor. At night, the sunset would cast hues of every color imaginable on the horizon; at sunrise, she could catch swirls of orange and red lit up like fire.

Even she had to admit that art did it no justice. It was absolutely breathtaking.

"Beautiful, ain't it?"

Jack settled a pair of tan hands on the wooden railing next to her, and though Edwina had been enjoying her rare moment of quiet, she supposed that his company was better than Will's surly demeanor at the moment.

Besides, he was agreeing with her.

So, rather than start a fight, Edwina nodded as her gaze crept along the horizon. She could see other ships in the distance as they approached port, leaving her to soak up what little time they had left of the calm sea. "Prettier than I thought it would be," she admitted after a moment.

"You'd never seen it?"

Edwina gave him a look. "I lived on an island. Of course I saw it. I just... didn't realize that it would be so different out here."

"You've never been sailing before?"

"Was I young, when we first came to Port Royal, but... not since. My father didn't particularly like the idea of me following him around at at work."

Jack hummed, but it was a thoughtless noise. He did that a lot; appeared to agree, yet, when she actually looked at him, Edwina got the sneaking suspicion that his mind was a million miles away.

"Rich lassies don't get to enjoy all the fun things, then, eh?"

The beauty of the moment soured, and Edwina sighed loudly at his jab. Because it was a jab. "I'm not rich."

"Ay?" he asked, eyes lingering on the soft pads of her hands for a moment. "Could'a fooled me, love."

"You know many rich women that long to be stuck on a stolen Navy ship with a pirate and a moody blacksmith?" she shot back, crossing one arm over the other.

Yet, Jack's mouth twitched into a toothy grin; like he had been waiting for her to lose her patience with him.

An idiot then, she decided, truly the dumbest man she had ever met.

"You're hardly the first woman to want a taste of something more exciting, love," he told her, leaning a bit too close for comfort, before he was swaying backwards with a twinkle in his eye. "It won't be long before you get bored of the life. They all do. And when you leave alongside Turner and the girl, I'll gladly share a sip of run to celebrate the occasion. I'll even wave."

Edwina narrowed her eyes down the slant of her nose at him. "Just because a woman gets tired of your stench, Sparrow, doesn't mean that all women who long for something more are eventually going to lose interest."

He sniffed his nose at her irritably. "S'called a musk, love," he said. As if that was the most important part of her argument. She blinked at him in disbelief, and Jack sniffed a second time before adding, "s'better than those wigs and makeup your Navy men wear. To think you'd rather that—"

"I do not rather that," she cut him off before he could even go down that particular tangent. His mouth twitched again, happy as a clam to hear her say it, and she just as quickly wiped the pleased look off his face by adding, "in fact, I think I'd prefer the company of a rat infested island than any of the men in my life. Navy or pirate."

He glared for half a second, before something smarmy turned his features. "Don't suppose you've put that to the test, have you, love?"

"Have I marooned myself on a rat infested island before?"

"I meant more in the favor or a Navy man or a pirate."

"Has anyone ever called you despicable before?"

His smile crooked, eyes lit up to show just how much he was enjoying riling her up, and Edwina envisioned slapping the gold tooth out of his mouth. "You can call me whatever you want, love. S'long as you answer a question for me."

Edwina perked a brow. "I already call you whatever I want."

Jack considered that, before decidedly ignoring the statement altogether to redirect his gaze to the horizon. She watched him watch it for a moment, before Jack slowly asked, "what are you really doing out here?"

It was a stupid question out of nowhere; yet, she didn't laugh. She supposed she was too thrown off guard to laugh. It was a genuine question on his part.

So, she gave him a genuine answer. "Pirates kidnapped Elizabeth, who is my only female friend on the island; the only friend I have that dreads marriage for power as much as I do."

He considered that. "Not a fan of power, eh?"

"You're a pirate. Tell me; what does power bring if you have it but not the freedom to do with it what you wish?"

Some sort of understanding flickered in his eyes, but she didn't see it for long before Jack was swaying against the wooden railing with a golden-toothed grin. "You and Turner both, then?"

She furrowed her brows at him; this time, she did laugh. "I'm not exactly keen on rescuing Elizabeth just so I can confess my love for her," she corrected.

He rolled his eyes, swaying close enough that she could see something soft and honeyed in them, to say, "you're both pirates who aren't pirates. Ay?"

"Yes, well," she tutted, glancing towards the other end of the boat where she knew Will liked to stew in his thoughts and feelings when talking to Jack got too much. "I was raised by a Navy man; wasn't exactly taught how to be a pirate other than to drink all the time."

"Not a bad start. What's dear William's excuse?"

Edwina almost answered that inquiry truthfully—his parents were killed by pirates, so the story goes—but a single look at Jack reminded her of how sneaky he had proven to be. A drunkard, certainly, but one that remembered the things he was told.

So, rather than give in, she said, "you know, I heard Norrington talk about you after the stunt you pulled with Elizabeth."

"Heralds of my heroics are passing already?"

"He said you were the worst pirate he had ever met."

Jack's smile soured a bit, but he waved a hand indifferently in the air as if it didn't bother him a bit to hear such slander. "Your dear Commodore clearly hasn't spent much time meetin' pirates, then."

"Are you trying to say that you're a good pirate, or simply that the other pirates out there are far worse at it then you?" she asked.

He blinked; at her, at the ground, then at her again, and she could see the question churning in his head before he realized that he wouldn't be pleased with either answer. He tutted at her, sticking a finger in her face, to point out, "you're not nearly as fun as Turner, you know. And that's saying something. Poor sod moans more than a nun in church."

Edwina was pretty sure that wasn't a saying. And, if it was a saying, she was pretty sure that wasn't how the saying went.

Regardless, she swatted his hand out of her face like a fly. "Will hasn't exactly been having a good year. It doesn't help his mood out at all when you poke fun."

"Did the hat store run out of peacock feathers?" he taunted.

"The Commodore dislikes him nearly as much as you."

Jack considered that. But when he gave her a lewd smile it became clear that he hadn't taken her point at all, and instead got sidetracked by something else. "Ah, and here I thought you didn't like Navy men, love."

The idea that she spent any matter of time with someone as lawful and stoic as James Norrington had Edwina huffing. He was a handsome man, she supposed, if one squinted at the right angle, but she had met pelicans with more personality than he had. "Haven't you heard? Commodore Norrington is far more infatuated with Elizabeth than a girl like me."

Jack's brow ticked up. "Oh?" he asked. Then, thinking it through properly, she watched as he swept his gaze towards the far side of the boat where Will had last been seen. "Oh. Seems to make more sense why the eunuch is so—"

He made a face, waving his hands in a way that she would certainly never be able to interpret, before shooting an overdramatic wince her way.

"He's awfully pathetic, isn't he?"

Edwina rolled her eyes; even when Will wasn't in hearing distance, Jack still seemed to take the piss out on him. "Have you ever heard a saying about a pot meeting a kettle?"

"I've met a pot before—shan't be doing that again. Far too much bruising," he muttered.

She didn't bother try to interpret that thought, either. Instead, Edwina glanced towards the sails in the distance. "How likely are you to end up in irons once we get to Tortuga?"

"Tortuga? No one ends up in irons on Tortuga, love. That's the beauty of it," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her with a toothy grin. "The only law is never start a fight with someone bigger than yourself, and if you do that, you'd best be sure your gun is bigger than theirs."

"That's two laws."

"No, we won't be finding trouble in Tortuga. Not the Navy type, anyway," he said with a glance to the horizon. "There's no saying what sort of trouble we might find once the sun has set and me bottle is full of rum."

"I'm starting to think we should leave you on the ship."

Jack looked scandalized at the suggestion. "Better to be leavin' you on the ship with that sort of mutinous talk," he said, deciding that it would be a perfect time to leave the conversation entirely.

Edwina watched him stumble towards the other end of the boat where he was about to badger Will about something mundane, no doubt, and she rolled her eyes after him before turning her attention back to the sea. It wouldn't be long before they made port now, and a trepidatious feeling stirred in her stomach.

She wasn't sure what would be worse—Jack Sparrow drinking all the rum he could find or Jack Sparrow not finding a single drop of it.

She sighed knowing that she was about to find out one way or another.

[coltrevolver]

i have a monopoly on rz urls. fuck with me.