#maccus the first mate

[kyuoki]

A Maccus painting that I've started way back in May. Finally had some time to finish it! 🩵🦈

This version of Maccus is based on @plainandgeneric's design of him. Since I like it so so much I've decided to draw it in my own style. If you haven't seen the original drawings you should totally check 'em out. They're awesome! 🫶

[scottishoctopus]

Since it's not happening any time sooner, Maccus could ya go give Jones a smooch? ;)

"Cheeky seagull you are, but I ain't gonna ever deny an opportunity like this." Maccus gives a toothy grin with a chuckle, and heads out towards the Captain's cabin above deck.

He passes by his fellow crewmembers and especially the recent ones, ordering for them to resume their duties as he opens the door to the cabin and walks inside. Jones had been playing his beloved pipe organ but finished over ten minutes ago and he currently was also planning on heading through the door of his quarters.

The two cursed men nearly bumped into each other in their paths, both suddenly stepping back with a thunk.

"Maccus. Yah very nearly frightened me- uh. If yer intendin' on scarin' yer old Captain then yah know tah do bettah than that attempt." Jones responded, his clouded eyes widened with surprise. But an amused grin soon made it's way onto his slimey face.

Maccus returned the smile, shaking his head.

"Apologies, Cap'n. But Ah did intend on seein' ye." He informed the other who stared at Maccus curiously.

"Tah what do Ah owe the pleasure, hm?"

The question that Jones asked seemed to have such perfect timing, and nothing could stop the knowing smile that still hadn't faded from Maccus' face. And so, the first mate took one single step closer to his captain who quirked an brow in suspicion, Maccus gently gripped onto the lapels of Jones' tattered coat and pulled him closer.

Maccus planted an affectionate kiss upon the other's cold lips, noticing how Jones had instantly froze in shock before then quickly relaxing. He placed his hand against the Captain's jaw, desiring to make sure that it lingered. One of the tentacles making up Jones' spectacular beard curled around Maccus' calloused and barnacle encrusted wrist in response.

The first mate then drew back, admiring the cursed Captain's faintly reddened face with a knowing smirk as his clouded eyes fluttered open.

"Oh..." Jones muttered quietly, his beard seemingly ceasing to wriggle from shock. He even looked as though he was struggling with forming a single sentence.

Maccus chuckled deeply, greatly enjoying how Jones seemed to become to incredibly shy all of a sudden. And with that, he stepped back towards the doors as if to leave, and then shot him back another grin.

"See ya back on deck...Davy."

[urisk-factor]

I was thinking about the Dutchman after the sea's curses are broken, and I think it would still be a thing, just that it's less of a curse and more of a choice. Maccus becomes the Captain. In this time, I think the crew would be able to change between forms. Calypso visits regularly to make sure chaos isn't happening.

[beemovieerotica]

i know pirates of the caribbean would have never been made today (on-location practical effects film) but if it WAS...

we'd absolutely have another "Introducing Disney's First Ever LGBT Character!!" moment, and of course everyone would be like "oh yeah, jack sparrow is bisexual, we're aware, got it." and then disney would be like "No."

and so we'd be like, "Oh, okay, Pintel and Ragetti are definitely not related and there's something homeoerotic going on there. Cool. We support that." and disney would go "No..."

and then they'd point to this fucking picture

"Maccus, the shark-headed first mate, has unrequited feelings for Davy Jones..." and there'd be an approximately 0.5 second scene where Maccus looks at Davy out of the corner of his 3rd eye and goes "Davy....." and Davy ignores him and disney is like "We're so brave for this."

and it'd be another goddamn gaston/le fou situation where half of y'all would be going "oh my god slayyyy love is reeaaalll" while the other half are pointing out how weirdly homophobic it is to have the cursed, PERPETUALLY DAMNED, ANIMAL-LIKE men be hinted as gay

and the fanart would be vile

[plainandgeneric]

Ah yes, another rare pair. I am, indeed, drawing Captain Davy Jones/First Mate Maccus in the year of 2024...

[assortedvillainvault]

Captain Hook,Davie Jones and captain Barbarosa are competing each other who is better captain,has better ship and can loot more treasure.

It’s a tense air that carpets the dark, back corner table the three of them are sat at, bottles in hand.

“Well, obviously, it’s yours truly.” Hook artfully sips from the bottle cradled in his namesake. “Formerly first mate to Blackbeard, immortal scourge of Neverland, a name known worldwide and, clearly-” he sneers a bit, “The one with the most class present. Of course its me.”

Barbossa rolls his eyes as he takes a rough swing of his own bottle, apple in hand. “Hardly.” he drawls. “Yer a coward who couldn’ kill a little ginger whelp and got yerself eaten for the trouble.”

“How dare-!”

“Besides-” Barbossa continues as though Hook weren’t even speaking, enjoying the way the red coated captain’s face was turning purple. “In case yer memory be failin’ ye, I ended my tenure at sea as Cap’n of a pirate armada, more swag in me hold than can be found in most palaces, and only the wrath of Poseidon ‘imself kept me from returning to stalk the waves again. Clearly.” He clacks the bottle against the table in finality. “It be me.”

The third occupant of the table leisurely lights his pipe even as Hook’s temper breaks and lunges across the table, the razor sharp hook just barely missing Barbossa’s throat as the older pirate swears and topples arse over ankles back from his seat. Bottles are thrown, swords are drawn, and Barbossas laugh is cut short as Hook slashes his feathered hat in half – fighting back properly with a snarl.

Jones idly puffs smoke and settles in as the bartenders weigh in against the squabbling captains, blue eyes glinting in the dark. His first mate, Maccus, leans over from another table.

“Uh-” the shark begins. “What’s the question again?”

Jones boredly taps out the ashes and lights another smoke. “Who be the best pirate.”

Maccus blinks. “But we ain’t even pirates. Most a th’ crew were honest sailors.”

“Aye.” Jones shrugs. “Ah dinnae know what they think we could do with looted holds - bar souls - anyway. The Dutchman regrows any damage.”

“And normal folk run screamin’ at port or sea.” Maccus nodded, teeth clicking idly. “...bets on these two?”

Jones surveys the broken furniture and theatrical shenanigans across the room, where Hook and Barbossa posture and swing, evenly matched as the barstaff duck for cover under tables and fallen wall hangings.

“...ten years say’s Barbossa, but only if it dinnae come to pistols. Hook’s a mean shot.”

Maccus grins full of sharp teeth. “Twenty years. Hook’s bloody quick, even if Barbossa’s all bones.”

Thanks for the ask!!

[lieutenantselnia]

When you're the first mate but still just the third wheel in your boss' relationship🤷🏼‍♂️

I just wanted to do a simple, silly meme redraw with Davy, Selena and Maccus, but somehow it turned into a fully rendered piece oops (we love perfectionism). This took me forever to finish and I kinda gave up towards the end🫠 But at least Davy and Selena get to look cute, also yay Maccus debut in my art!! :D

Also the original meme under cut:

[theblogofdavyjones]

No harm done

Pairing: Davy Jones x reader

Warnings: None

Requested: @kyuoki

Request:

Request idea: how about the story starts with prompt number 16 and then after the incident y/n decides to thank Davy in private but it turns into something spicy?

Prompt #16

“Touch (Y/n), and it’ll be the last thing you ever do!”

***

Davy Jones wasn’t through with you just yet, nor would he ever be.

Although you managed to escape the Dutchman one night, thanks to the help of Bootstrap Bill, you got out of there without being seen. Bootstrap Bill was the only crew mate on the Dutchman you could trust, as you’ve come to the terms of the fact he is the most loyal and trusting above all. After your escape, a new chapter in your life had just opened and you started out by joining Jack Sparrow and his crew on the Black Pearl.

Over your time on the Pearl, you sort of let your guard down from making yourself worry you would be recaptured if you were found. Little did you know, you would be right about this as your fear would soon be coming true. Your freedom was about to be cut short as Will Turner goes to sneak onboard the Dutchman. You were uncertain of this, considering the fact that somehow you knew Davy Jones had been on the hunt for you since the great escape. You were still human after all and didn’t want to spend the rest of your life feeling trapped all the time. There are many more reasons then one why you decided to leave, one of them being you didn’t feel like you fit in with the crew, nothing you did seemed to not ever have pleased Davy in the slightest, and lastly, you were discovering feelings you were gaining feelings for the cruel and ruthless captain. At times, you found yourself beginning to think of you were even worthy to be kept around, but Davy planned on keeping you around.

You were always careful to watch yourself, to not make a single mistake weather it’s big or small. You didn’t want to have suffer the wrath of Davy Jones, witnessing it happening to other crew mates was punishment enough in your opinion, the screams and horrific scenes that unfolded before you changed you completely, you weren’t the same person as before. You understand that one screw up could lead up to the matter of timing Davy Jones decided you were no longer needed or welcomed. The night of your escape happened to be the same night of your first screw up. You were working on getting the final task of the day done, and that was mopping the dirty floorboards beneath your feet. Because the sun was going down and it was getting harder to see where you were going and how much you had left to get done, you don’t see where the mop bucket that still contained filthy water was, causing you to trip over it in the process. To your utter horror, a loud ‘splash’ was heard and you knew that the dirty water was now everywhere, including on you.

You begin to fear what might happen to you now, at anytime soon. The lights on the Dutchman were dim, almost to the point of no use, even if you had tried. The dark had always made you feel uneasy, you would always sing quietly to yourself as a source of comfort.

“And if they catch you slippin' then it's all over pal

If one guy's colors and the other's don't mix

They're gonna bash it up, bash it up, bash it up, bash it up!”

However, because everyone had a curfew and you were still getting the job done, almost done cleaning your spill, you almost got in trouble after nearly running into Maccus as he starts rounding a corner, taking his patrol call very seriously.

Seeing Maccus, you quickly jump back to hide in the shadows, which seemed to have worked, considering he didn’t see you or even knew you were just feets away from him as he didn’t look around any further.

‘That was a close one’ you remember thinking to yourself.

Now here you are, being pulled away from the Black Pearl, as Jack Sparrow continues to try to protect you from Davy Jones, he is unable to do so at this time.

But that doesn’t stop him from silently promising you he will find you no matter what the cost as he sadly watches you being ripped away from him. Once you were back on the Dutchman, you knew you were in for it, knowing Davy was beyond angry about finding you working alongside Jack Sparrow and his crew when it should have been himself and own crew. As you brace yourself for the worse to come, it never did much to your surprise and near satisfaction. You couldn’t let your guard down completely yet, the only punishment given to you was of returning to your former cabin and rested the next following days until you decided you wanted to come out. You did, and no one was there to stop you, so you let your guard down and continued searching for an adventure.

Though you immediately regret it after hearing screams of the suffering under Davy’s command and you turn to go back, only to bump into someone. Seeing that it was Maccus, your breath hitched in your throat as you started feeling overwhelmed with anxiety you haven’t felt in a long time. The most frightening sight was when you took notice of Maccus holding a whip in hand and seeing that you had noticed it, he raises the same hand up for scare and for a one time only warning. Maccus wasn’t afraid to show you of what would happen if you don’t follow through with what you’re told to do. Maccus than begins to bark at you to get back to your duties. You go on to tell him you haven’t been given any orders but in his eyes, that was just an excuse.

Your eyes widened when he raised his hand higher up as you begin to prepare for the sheer pain that was about to be brought onto you. But as you waited, it never came, you didn’t feel a single thing and for a brief moment, you thought that maybe the deed was done and he had killed you as he promised. During this frightening encounter, you don’t remember closing your eyes, but when you open them and see that you were still very much alive, you look over to see why it hadn’t come. It was quite surprising to see that Davy Jones was the one to put a stop to what would have been certain death. As surprising as this was, it was quite amusing at the same time as you watch Davy wrestling Maccus for the whip until he won it over and threw it to the side, out of anyone’s reach.

Once that was over, Davy got up close to Maccus face and threatens him in a low dangerous voice, almost a growl.

“Touch (Y/n), and it’ll be the last thing you ever do!” Davy growls.

You couldn’t help but feel a little victorious after seeing Maccus eyes fill with fear.

Out of fear, Maccus walks away without another word, leaving the two of you alone. From the look in Davy’s eye, you were sure it was enough to burn through anyone’s soul with just that deadly look. Once gone, Davy turns to you and looks you over for any possible injuries you could have gotten. Realizing what he was doing, you started feeling more comfortable around him than before, enough to laugh a little about how he seemed to care about your well-being. Hearing you laugh, he gets a little defensive, he couldn’t help it.

“Are you laughing at me?” He nearly growls.

“Not at all, it’s just… I’m perfectly fine, Davy. Really. You don’t have to worry, I assure you that there was no harm done.”

Davy couldn’t be convinced of that, but alas, he chooses to take your word for it before sending you back to your cabin.

As long as you’re there, he doesn’t have to worry so much about you. He felt it was his duty to keep you safe and protected, with no reason at first. But he realizes there is a reason for it, and he didn’t know how to feel about it quite yet.

That reason being he loves you.

***

@theblogofdavyjones

Tags: @royisrandom @always-on-hiatus @personlovinganime @princessofthornsandroses @justafairytailofinnocence @friendlynova @marsswann @imalittleoutthere @mypookiebeardavyjones

Requests: open

[piratesgiftexchange]

by depressedvillainobsession, for @beemovieerotica

PROMPT: "Davy Jones and Maccus realizing after 150 tenuous years at sea that they really are the most compatible for each other"

CONTENT WARNINGS: Period typical homophobia and punishment

WORD COUNT: 7,910

Another morning the monster sat hunched in front of his keys. Another miserable day. Another day in ten, in a hundred, in a thousand. Each one exactly the same as the previous, and likely the same as the one that would proceed it.

Monotony. The true terror of the Dutchman for any of the crew who had sailed with her long enough to know the things to be afraid of lay far beyond surface appearances.

However, for some of them, they had yet to find things to be more afraid of on the Dutchman than in the lives they had left behind.

For one crew member in particular, monotony was not the trouble of the day. Far from it.

The shark headed and bull headed first mate, Maccus, was late for his duties. An occurrence so rare and scandalous aboard the cursed ship that it reduced her crew to whispering and gossiping like children.

It was only the slow rapping of a wooden cane, echoing against the deck, that hushed its many occupance. Whiskers quivered and stilled, fins flattened hastily against damp skin, extra limbs and protrusions were tucked away. All to quell a growing octopian anger which directed their every move.

The icy gaze of the captain swept the deck. His tentacled finger tightened around the decaying wood of his cane as he continued to find his search empty and lacking of one of the few aboard this ship to whom it could be said he shared ‘fleeting’ affections of friendship.

“Where is my first mate, Palifico?” Davy Jones asked in a low voice, quiet and rife with dark expectation. As if Palifico should be able to summon the man to his side.

Palifico was a tall man appearing to be made of an empty forest of twisted coral. His eyes were two hollow, dark holes in his head, and it was a mystery how a voice even escaped him as he turned to face Davy Jones.

“I believe he is…asleep in his hammock, captain.” His deep voice hesitated, faded in the middle of his sentence, as he watched the captain’s expression.

“Still?” Davy Jones’ beard flicked in displeasure, the tentacles set to writhing like a nest of snakes as he looked up at the sun, well and truly risen in the sky.

“Still.” Palifico rumbled, moving his face back away to survey the silent crew arranged below them on the main deck. They were all waiting for a reaction now. There had to be one. A crew member disregarding his duties like this was dangerous, especially in such an esteemed position.

Davy’s thick moustache-like tentacles twitched, and his mouth beneath curled into a snarl of displeasure. He released his tight hold on his cane only to quickly shuck his hand higher up its length, allowing him to lift its tip off the deck and use it to gesture his bodyguard away.

“Go. Now. And see to it that the crew do their duties to the ship. I didn’t expect Maccus’ absence to cause such disarray, considering they are the same duties we have been performing for near a century and a half, and yet I stand disappointed and clearly overestimating the ability of my crew.”

“Would you like me to send someone to bring Maccus to you?” Palifico asked, apparently unfazed by the scathing manner in which Jones had just talked of his crew.

“If that is what I wished, I would have conveyed that to you. Go.” Davy Jones snapped at him, and Palifico inclined his head slightly and left, unruffled by the exchange.

With his cane still lifted, the captain made his way down the steps and across the deck down to the crew’s quarters. They consisted of a large area in the ship where hammocks were located along with bottles of whisky and other things 150 year old pirate quarters may have collected over time.

In the hammock in the corner, in the best, driest, and warmest spot in the whole room, lay his first mate.

He had his hands — which were slowly turning into claw-like appendages — tucked behind his wide shark’s head, and was whistling a low tune with his human eye closed.

“Did you think your absence would not be noted?” Davy Jones asked, letting his cane slip through his hold until the tip hit the deck with a loud ‘bang’.

The captain waited in silence for several long moments for a response, but Maccus only shrugged apathetically, keeping his eyes firmly closed.

“Or perhaps you thought I would not remember the date today, and you would receive a punishment great enough to ease you from your mind?”

At this Maccus did wince, and he slowly opened the one remaining eye in the front of his human face. The positioning of the socket was such that the first mate always looked terribly sad about something. But Davy knew it wasn’t just the eye that made Maccus appear morose today.

“Come now, Maccus. Kindred souls call to each other.”

“The 14th day of the 2nd month.” Maccus sighed, finally struggling up into a seated position despite the wriggling of the many extra limbs on his back and the swaying of the hammock beneath him. “Why did it have to happen on that day?”

“Because the fates are cruel and delight in our anguish.” Davy replied simply, moving weary bones across the space to Maccus’ side, where the first mate diligently held the hammock down so that the captain could take a seat beside him.

When Davy first became a sailor, his leg had prevented him from completing certain tasks with ease. Now that he had been sailing for decades, few things caused him difficulty. He had long since adapted and mastered abilities that made him one of the greatest sailors on the seas.

And yet Maccus still acted out of habit, making sure the captain’s path was clear where he could, carrying his cane for him when he had no need of it, moving to help him at the slightest sign of inconvenience.

Similarly, Davy Jones could tell what every grimace and snarl on the shark headed man’s face meant. He could distinguish between anger and fear, deference and rebellion, with a single flash of those pointed teeth. Maccus was as easy for him to read as the poetry he indulged himself in.

That was how long Maccus and Davy Jones had been at each other’s side. Their relationship was full of these little habits and rituals; the catching of an elbow when the captain stumbled in fatigue, the comforting —yet clandestine — brush of a claw when the first mate betrayed a sense of pain.

It was good fortune for them, then, that their relationship was so habitual in nature. The natural way in which they moved about each other, in the same way a breeze might weave through the leaves of a great oak, made their relationship perfectly invisible to the eye. It was only when one of them faltered in their duties, made some kind of misstep, that they were revealed. For a breeze does not rush to put a leaf back in place on its branch once it is dislodged. The leaf withers, and the breeze moves on.

“Don’t give me that lecture Davy, please. For the love of— something.” Maccus snapped. He closed his eye, squeezing it shut tightly, and sighed. “I’m well aware of our circumstances.”

Davy Jones turned his face away for a moment, collecting himself. Maccus was right, he was no mere sailor, fished from the sea. He was Davy’s first mate. His most valued friend beyond even that. And certainly no fool under any illusions of optimism.

“You know that I can still feel it?” Maccus asked suddenly, breaking the gentle silence between them, neither awkward, nor expectant. And Davy turned to face him.

“Feel what? Is it your…scar?”

“It still feels as though my throat is constricting and collapsing all at once. And I swear my face must be swelling, my hands clawing at my neck as I try to take in air. Even when I stand planted against this deck, I can feel my feet kicking underneath me in open space. I can still see all their eyes on me, still hear that voice saying-“

“You are not still there, Maccus.” Davy Jones interrupted Maccus, as he saw his first mate begin to breathe quicker and shallower, and his words become so hasty in his mouth that the captain could scarcely discern them any longer.

Davy Jones rested a hand on Maccus’ shoulder in an attempt to calm him. He remembered well that day. He remembered the charge. But he did not wish to hear repeated such vile words. Jones had already lived it long ago, when he had wielded his rank for the final time to get Maccus down from the gallows, and given up his own life of comfort to pursue a life of piracy with Maccus. It had been the only way to make certain his friend lived to see the light of the next dawn.

“Do you remember when you stole that apple from Mrs. Highgate when we were boys?” Davy asked, trying to pull Maccus out of his tortured memories and into better ones.

Maccus laughed slightly, baring his needle sharp teeth in a grimacing smile. He let go of his head where he had been cradling it, one hand around each side of the shark’s hammer head. His eyes were still glimmering with tears, but as always, he was trying to follow his captain’s directives.

“She was so angry, she made you buy the whole lot for me.” The first mate dragged the back of his hand across his eyes, which was probably not advisable given what manner of foul things were growing on their bodies. “Oh Davy, you were so innocent and polite back then.”

“Admirable virtues, I suppose.” The captain commented, two of his tentacles gone rummaging in his great coat for something, and each emerging respectively with a fine silver pipe, encircled and cradled by molded crab legs, and a small pouch of tabacco.

“For the child that you were, perhaps. If you had any virtue left to you now, I would have long since gutted you and thrown you overboard, to have this ship for myself.” Maccus said in a low voice.

It was said mostly in jest, but Davy Jones took the sentiment to be perfectly true.

Although there was a mutual long standing and deep affection between the two that enabled Maccus to have this candidacy with his captain, Davy was certain the first mate would do what he had to if Davy Jones proved himself more liability than asset. It was part of the reason he made such a good first mate.

Perhaps selfishly, the captain still hoped it would cause Maccus at least a little pain to do so, even though he would have expected nothing less. They had, after all, no official licence of loyalty to each other.

As Davy turned the tobacco pouch in one tentacle over his pipe, and lit it, his mind couldn’t help wandering.

He looked at Maccus, and he knew he trusted that man with his life, should his life prove worth enough to save. He looked at his first mate, and he saw the person whom he most respected and admired on the ship. Looking at that wide shark’s head, the fold of his unseeing eye, the permanently twisted grimace of his mouth, he saw a man who was competent, intelligent, who was willing to do what he must for the benefit of many.

He and Maccus had known each other since they were practically children — although their younger selves would have protested at such a notion of infancy — and he had to admit to himself that he cared for Maccus more deeply than anyone else on this ship. In fact, more deeply than anyone he had ever known since Calypso.

What that meant? The captain couldn’t be sure. And perhaps, he wouldn’t allow himself to elaborate further.

“Well, rest assured old friend, there are no virtues here. Only vices.” Davy Jones puffed out smoke, the ashen cloud exiting through the breathing tentacle on the side of his head.

The tentacle that was gripping the pipe uncurled slowly, extending itself out to Maccus, proffering the pipe to him.

It was a beautiful thing. The bowl of it made out of whalebone, with crab claws delicately carved around it, seemingly holding the bowl steady. The mouth piece was made out of rare silver mined from the bottom of the sea. All in all, an exquisitely precious item to the captain.

Maccus looked down at the pipe offered to him, eye widening in surprise.

He hesitated for a moment, the captain had never shared a smoke with him before. Tobacco was expensive and not such an easy find. Not to mention the difficulty that came with trying to keep the stuff dry on this ship.

Finally though, the first mate decided not to keep the captain waiting, and tentatively took the pipe from him. With a sort of anxious care, he brought the mouthpiece to his own lips and inhaled a few breaths of the smoke.

Casually, Davy Jones held out his tentacle again, and Maccus handed it back to him for the captain to smoke a moment.

“Do you ever regret it?” Maccus asked softly, but the sentiment was undercut slightly by the coughing fit that shook his voice.

“Hmm?” Davy Jones asked absentmindedly, focusing suddenly very much on inhaling smoke from the pipe. “Maccus, I’m afraid you’ll have to elaborate. I’m certainly a man full of regrets.”

“Saving me, I mean.”

Davy Jones had been in the midst of passing the smoking pipe back over to Maccus, and Maccus had instinctively reached to take it from him, but now the captain had frozen. His tentacle held the smoking pipe aloft, while Maccus’ clawed hand hovered just underneath expectantly, becoming more hesitant with each passing second.

The captain’s sharp blue eyes searched out Maccus’, but the first mate was avoiding his gaze, looking at the deck instead.

“Are you being serious? Is that some kind of joke?” Davy Jones asked, but it came out as more of a demand. Maccus didn’t know why he seemed so angry, but the skin around the captain’s eyes was scrunched as he scowled.

“I only mean…you gave up your whole life, your whole comfortable life, to save me. And now we’re here. You must…you must have regrets. It’s only logical. No one would blame you for it. I certainly wouldn’t.” Maccus started, beginning to blabber and hesitate as Davy fixed those pale eyes on him in a vice-like hold.

“Maccus.” Davy interrupted Maccus’ quickly derailing ramble. “I thought you were a sensible man. Am I to believe I put the ship in the charge of an imbecile?”

“I…” Maccus was now staring at Davy Jones, wide eyed, completely taken aback by the direction of the conversation. “No. No, not at all, sir.”

“Then why would you ask me such an idiotic question?”

“Well, I…I suppose-“

“Before rescuing you from the gallows, I had already been discussing romantic ideas of running from all responsibility, hadn’t I?”

“Well, yes, but-“

“I would have become a pirate at some point regardless. You just sped up the process. And even then, being a pirate was simply one event along the unfortunate course that my life has taken. It was certainly not the cause. The credit for our situation lies solely on my shoulders. Do you understand?”

Maccus looked away again, but he had the faintest smile on his face. Davy had such a strange way of reassuring someone. He was aggressive, he was loud, and at times cruel. But the curtness in his responses had served to help Maccus snap out of more than one dire thought.

“I suppose I must.”

“Therefore, there is no conceivable reason I could possibly regret saving your life.” Davy Jones pressed.

He shifted around in the hammock, eventually heaving himself out of it and walking over to the wall, where he had leant his cane for the duration of that conversation.

Maccus was still staring at him, and Davy Jones took the opportunity to brush down his coat and adjust his grip on his cane.

“Besides, you have been a valuable first mate, and a skilled pirate. It would be rather a shame if you’d gone and died that day. And for no reason at all. At least now, you are committing actual crimes.”

“A-actual crimes? Right. You’re right.” Maccus stood up too and flexed the aching lobster legs on his back, which always went stiff in the mornings after he’d slept on them.

“Speaking of crime.” Davy continued on briskly, paying no mind to Maccus’ hesitance. His word was law. Maccus and the others would have to accept that. He would not tolerate a word to the contrary, even aimed at oneself.

“You will have to be punished for your insolence when we appear in front of the rest of the crew. Not turning up for duties in the morning is unacceptable. Especially for a man of such…” The captain looked Maccus up and down for a moment, his gaze lingering. “…importance.”

“Of course, of course.” Maccus said, ducking his head in acknowledgement.

Maccus and Davy Jones were practically founders of the crew, they knew how things were run. How they had been run for 150 years. They both knew what was necessary.

—

“Ah, here’s the lazy sod.” Penrod said, crouching on top of a crate to peer at the emerging Maccus, followed by the captain.

Maccus bared his sharp, pointed shark’s teeth at Penrod in a vicious snarl. The first mate wanted to say that he wasn’t such an idiot that he would actually sleep in and forget his duties, but he couldn’t. To tell them he’d been sat alone, wallowing in his sadness until the captain fetched him, would be much worse.

“What’ll it be, captain?” Jimmy legs asked immediately, stepping out from the crowd of pirates eagerly to face Davy Jones. The man thrived on pain, be it from anyone but himself.

Davy Jones looked subtly to the side, catching Maccus in his peripheral. The first mate was standing tall, with his chin high and gaze proud. He was certainly a brave and disciplined man, that could not be doubted.

“Five lashes.”

It was the bare minimum Davy Jones could afford to give.

“Very well. I’ll prepare my whip-“ Jimmy legs began, but Davy held out his claw to stop him.

“I shall deal the punishment out personally. Maccus is, after all, the first mate. I can’t have someone of less authority thinking they have a right to put him in his place. Ideas like that are dangerous, are they not, Bosun?”

Jones reached out his tentacle hand, waiting for Jimmy Legs’ to hand over his whip. One of his eyebrows was raised carefully, eyes fixed firmly on the Bosun in challenge.

The captain never dealt out lashes himself. It was either the Bosun, or someone that Jones wanted to punish in themselves. Someone soft-hearted, not accustomed to being on the ship.

A few tense moments elapsed as Jimmy Legs stared stonily into the captain’s eyes. He clearly wanted to challenge the order, to question the captain’s motives. But even he wouldn’t dare.

“Yes.” He replied finally, breaking the building tension that had rendered the air stiff and unbreathable. “That would be dangerous.”

The Bosun handed over the whip handle first, but when the captain grasped it, Jimmy Legs didn’t let go straight away. It took another breath, and a low warning snarl from the captain, like he was some kind of feral animal, before the Bosun let Davy Jones yank it out of his hand.

“Careful now, Bosun. I am the captain of this godforsaken vessel.” Davy Jones reminded him darkly, before stepping past the bitter looking man.

That you are.” Jimmy legs muttered. With an angry twist of his heel, he turned and gestured for two of the crew, Palifico and Ogilvey, to step forward and each grab hold of Maccus.

Maccus snatched his arms away and glared at them, bearing his fangs. Then he marched proudly forward with his head high to receive the lashings, taking up the position himself and removing the belt that crossed his torso.

Maccus needed no one to hold him down, as he made abundantly clear, digging in his own claws into the wood as he turned his vulnerable back on Davy Jones.

The captain, watching the entire admirable display, felt a sort of cold drip into his stomach as he realized something.

He didn’t want to hurt Maccus.

But with all eyes on them, and the scene he had made with Jimmy legs, he couldn’t back out of it now. And even besides that, giving Maccus to the Bosun would have simply made him feel worse.

Slowly, Davy Jones let the whip unfurl and trail against the deck. Maccus, facing away from him, closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. As stoic as he liked to play these things, whip lashes fucking hurt, no matter who you were. And especially when you had live lobster legs attached to your back.

Nothing could be done for it, and the captain was forced to dole out the punishment he had so insisted on. As was expected, Maccus buckled under the blows, crying out in pain, and several crew members had to rush to hold him up for the following lashes.

Davy winced as he saw the legs on Maccus’ back panic and cartwheel around uselessly in the air, bearing the brunt of the attacks. So much so that on the fifth and final lash, one of them split in half, the severed bit falling sadly to the deck.

The dismembered leg quivered pathetically on the ground for a few seconds, then fell still.

‘The Bosun would have done worse.’ Davy Jones reminded himself as he watched Ogilvey and Palifico carry Maccus away to see his wounds treated.

He would have. Davy Jones knew Jimmy Legs would have. He prided himself on causing the most damage possible. And normally, that didn’t bother Davy. On the contrary, it made an example out of anyone who opposed him.

But this time…this time he hadn’t wanted that to happen. This time, the idea of Maccus being shredded by the whip made Davy feel ill.

Maccus was more than just some unfortunate soul the Dutchman had happened to drag back from the brink of death into a pitiful, extended existence. Maccus was…he was Davy’s first mate.

Had there been anyone more loyal, more true, more trusted than him? Had there ever been someone so dedicated, so straightforward and capable, so perfect for the role? Had there ever been a pirate who fit so perfectly beside the captain, to the point that it was impossible to imagine another taking his place?

Maccus was all of that. He was the most precious first mate Davy Jones had ever had the pleasure to sail with. But it wasn’t just his many marketable skills that earned him both the captain’s respect and his budding (perhaps more so flowering) affections.

With Maccus, Davy Jones could talk, he could confide in. The first mate looked at him in appreciation when the captain played his music, when he wrote his poetry, or when he sketched the Dutchman for the hundredth time from a new angle as the ship changed and grew with time, alive with its own beating existence. Maccus knew it all, from the strange to the downright despicable, but still he stayed.

Davy Jones had found in him a strange sort of wisdom. The wisdom of a man who had never known anything more than the will to survive, the frantic desperation of trying to live in a world that wanted only to tear you down for arbitrary laws written in hate and malice. Maccus had never known peace, he had never known stability, or comfort. He knew only to appreciate what he had in the moment, and to move ever forward into the future.

There were moments where he lingered on the past, but never so much as the captain, who seemed unable to step out of his own personal limbo of pain and suffering, unable to take that first step forwards while the first mate ran ever onwards. Had he not been so loyal to Davy, the captain was sure Maccus would have found a way off the Dutchman by now and started anew. It was once again a testament to Maccus’ bravery and diligence that he’d stayed.

And that was how their relationship had developed.

Davy was the foundation, the methodical and the calculated, indulgent nonetheless in flights of romantic fancy. Maccus was the drive behind the solidity that was the captain. He pushed Davy forward, propelled them both through life. Maccus lent Davy his will to fight, and Davy helped him to live for more than mere fleeting moments.

The Dutchman, strange and terrible and painful as she was now, provided Maccus with a stability and safety he had never before known. There was comfort in monotony for Maccus, the surety that if he were punished, it would be for something he had done, rather than something he simply was.

There were many, many moments where Davy and Maccus didn’t truly understand each other. Where Maccus simply nodded while Davy ranted about the beauty of rhythms and notes, and Davy bit his lip to keep from interrupting Maccus as he explained his childhood, and what he had always known to be true and right.

But they did that for each other. They tried to understand one another, but when they didn’t it had no real impact on their concentration on and appreciation for the passion of the other.

Davy Jones wordlessly shoved the whip back into Jimmy Legs’ hands.

Maccus’ blood dripped from its length onto the captain’s shoes. Red, raw, human. It was real blood. That is to say, Davy Jones finally perceived it as real blood. The blood of another that didn’t belong on the barnacled toe of his boot, but rather in that person’s body. The well being of that body for which he happened to care for very much.

The captain’s gaze was far from the Bosun, instead fixed on the doorway Maccus had just disappeared through to rest and recover. However, when he started towards it, the Bosun made a very ill-considered move. The one of getting in the captain’s way.

“Cap’n, what are you doing? Maccus has duties, someone needs to get the ship in order for the day. The first mate mustn’t be coddled! He will take punishment like everyone else-“

“Shut up!” Jones hissed, pivoting on his good leg to face Jimmy Legs. “Or I swear to you, that whip will be out of your hands and tearing out the skin of your back before you can utter another putrid word.”

Jimmy Legs found that this outcome had in fact not been the one he had wanted at all. Luckily for him, the captain didn’t give him enough of a chance to protest before he left the main deck to find his first mate.

“Where is he?” Davy Jones demanded, as soon as he saw Ogilvey rushing through the corridors with his arms full of bandages.

The captain was led to the room where the crew all slept, and once again found Maccus in his hammock. Except this time he was face down and quivering silently in pain. The flesh of his back was a spider web of thin red cuts, but it was the lobster legs on him that begged anyone’s attentions.

Aside from the one that had snapped in half, the others were terribly damaged, sustaining deep wounds that left them hanging limp at odd angles. A few twitched and wriggled as Palifico took out large splinters from the ship and touched them to each leg to check that they were the appropriate lengths for a splint.

Maccus groaned quietly when Palifico, having accepted the bandages from Ogilvey, started wrapping up each leg with the appropriate splint. It didn’t look like a comfortable process.

“Will they grow back? Will they heal?” Davy demanded of Palifico, as if his bodyguard knew any more medicine than he did. In fact, Davy Jones probably knew the most out of anyone on this ship, given that he had received a wealthy education. And yet, that still didn’t constitute much, since he hadn’t studied much of the sciences.

Palifico shrugged, turning empty, soulless eyes on Davy Jones, his joints emitting loud cracking noises as the coral rubbed together.

“Davy?” Maccus asked, his voice muffled against the material of his hammock.

He could recognize those irregular footsteps. The extra tap of the cane against the floor. Most of all, he could recognize the voice. Anyone could recognize that voice. Davy had perhaps the most distinctive voice Maccus had ever heard, and he had spent his life since meeting the Scotsman listening out for it.

Maccus couldn’t help wondering why Davy Jones had come down to see him minutes after personally giving his first mate the lash, even if he could fully understand why the captain had done it. And Maccus knew that not only was it necessary, but Davy had been protecting him from a much worse punishment.

Still, he thought the sting of the whip from the captain’s hand, especially after Davy and Maccus had had such a sensitive conversation, was far worse than any flesh rendering blow that the Bosun could have delivered with all his vengeance and hate.

Maccus trusted Davy, even if he probably (definitely) should not. He believed that he could tell the captain things that he couldn’t tell anyone else, that the captain would protect him should the need arise. And this whipping was another reminder that Davy didn’t really merit that complete faith. He was in a position where all he knew of how to control his crew was violence, which bred a yet more violent and disruptive crew.

Maccus missed the days where he was the rough and tumble young lad who had to protect his skinny musician friend.

“Maccus, how are you?” Davy Jones asked, and Maccus could feel the captain’s eyes sweep the length of his body from head to toe, even though the first mate couldn’t see him, anxiously checking for injuries.

“Not well.” Maccus grunted as Ogilvey and Palifico withdrew from the room quietly and discreetly, exchanging odd, sort of hopeful looks.

The first mate started struggling to sit in his hammock, adjusting to the feeling of having his crustacean legs restricted and straightened out. He looked more like a sad porcupine than anything else at that moment.

“Let me help.” Davy Jones said quickly, shooting forward with surprising agility to take a hold of Maccus’ forearm and help steady him.

Maccus pulled his arm out of Davy’s grip once he was righted, and looked away at the far wall slightly next to the captain’s head to maintain an illusion of eye contact. He didn’t want to seem weak in front of his captain.

“Don’t bother yourself. You probably have plenty of duties to attend to given my tardiness this morning. My apologies.”

Even Maccus could tell that the stiffness in his voice and manner was hardly subtle. It was painfully evident that the first mate was upset with his captain.

“I do. And since you aren’t working right now I’ll have—“

“My mistake.” Maccus shoved his hands hard into the material of the hammock beside his hips in an attempt to lift himself to his feet. It was much too aggressive, massively overshooting the energy that would actually be required of such an action, and he only succeeded in nearly tipping himself backwards again. “I’ll get back to my duties, captain.”

“Maccus.” Davy Jones bit out, grabbing hold of the first mate’s arm in a vice-like grip. His voice was edged with desperation, and something darker, a darker something that lined his eyes with fire. “That is not what I was inferring. Let me finish.”

Maccus was still. For the first time, when he met the captain’s eyes Maccus’ too were tough as diamonds. Sharp, cutting, and bright. They searched out Davy’s with their own challenge.

A sort of electric pulse shot through the air between them then, and the little living barnacles on the backs of their arms lifted like hairs. For the first time in a long time, Maccus was not acting like Davy’s subordinate. They were finally back on an even playing field, one where neither of them could claim the sort of more professional distance that was ‘captain’ and ‘first mate’ on which they had separated themselves for decades.

“Finish then,” Maccus said lowly, allowing Davy Jones’ to tighten his tentacle’s grip on his arm. There were another few significant moments that passed before he added, “Captain.”

“I…” For a moment, the captain lost focus. Maccus had swum into vision, startling, crystal clear vision.

In front of him stood a loyal friend, a capable man, a strong and fierce pirate. And to him, at that moment, Davy Jones was just a man. He wasn’t the pirate captain he’d spent several bitter decades building himself up to be. It was like Maccus, before everyone, had torn down everything Jones had created in order to protect himself.

Maccus tilted his head to the side, watching the captain’s mystifying reaction to his blatant insubordination. A change had just descended upon Davy, and he was looking at Maccus in a completely different light.

He was looking at Maccus. Looking into his eyes.

Maccus suddenly felt very overwhelmed. He had the captain’s complete and unwavering attention, and it was like having the sun’s rays and all the stars pointed in your direction, so that you might bask in their ever warm gaze.

Was it getting hot in that room?

Davy was preparing to whip Maccus again, that had to be it. And no one could blame Maccus for thinking so when Davy was holding on to him in the manner that he was.

The tentacle on his hand wound tighter, and tighter, and tighter, grinding the bones of Maccus’ wrist eventually harder together until he was forced to let out a yell of pain.

“Fuck! Let me go!”

Something snapped in that room. A change so sudden and violent that it could be felt physically between the two, as if they had been slapped hard across the face.

Davy suddenly let go of Maccus’ arm and stepped back, blinking quickly as if he had had no awareness of what he had been doing in the slightest. He lifted his shaking hand and inspected it, as if expecting to find some kind of mark there as he quivered. Finding nothing, he lifted his eyes to Maccus, and looked away just as quickly.

“You’re dismissed.”

——

The rest of the day saw Maccus back to working, toiling under the hot sun, ignoring all the jibes and concerns thrown at the many splits on his back. His mind was occupied by too many other things to be concerned with the physical pain he may be feeling at that moment. Or rather, the entirety of his mind was focused on one thing. One person.

And yet, that person was nowhere to be found. Not that that was unusual for the captain these days.

Davy Jones used to be a much more diligent and attentive captain, renowned for his nautical skills and cunning, as well as the practised effectiveness of his own crew. They trained each other, exchanged knowledge and abilities, and in that way they were always being rendered stronger and more unified.

These days, not seeing him for several hours, or even an entire day, was commonplace. And he played music whenever the fancy took him. He had no need to be constantly vigilant, no one would dare attack the Dutchman, the ferry of the dead. Why would he even need to continuing training with his crew? They were the most dangerous things on the seas already, and nothing could threaten that.

Still, Maccus had expected to see him on deck. He had expected the captain to come speak to him personally after that morning’s strangeness. He didn’t know why, but he’d expected it. And now whenever someone called Maccus’ name or tapped his shoulder, he jumped to attention. It was never Davy.

The day was drawing to a close as Maccus inspected the ship, making sure everything was well put away, and everyone had executed their respective duties to an acceptable level. It didn’t take long for him to find a few spots where the crew had slacked off, but he let it slide, too tired to throw up a fuss. He was only glad that the sun was setting on this cursed anniversary of sorts, and that he would not have to face it again for another year yet.

The events of this day had certainly not helped his phobia of the date. He now had new anxieties to add to the hefty list he’d drawn up in his mind, but he was glad of the opportunity to wash his hands of it at least.

Maccus straightened up from a crouch holding the discarded severed head of a fish in one hand and not looking happy about it.

“Really, some people.” He sniffed, tossing it out to sea angrily and watching it arc through the air. Its eyes were wide and frozen, stuck stiffly in the same pose, glistening bright white where it caught the light of the setting sun on the sea before being swallowed up by the ocean waves.

“I guess our minds are becoming more animal-like too.” A voice behind him mused casually, and Maccus stepped back and stumbled in surprise and shock.

His foot caught and slipped on the fish’s dismembered tail, and Maccus felt his body careening backwards, his arms flailing out uselessly around him like a baby bird pushed too early out of its nest.

The first mate felt someone catch him in their arms, and he knew exactly who it must be. Fate couldn’t resist getting in one more moment of torture on this day before the sun finally set again.

Davy Jones looked down at him with a concerned expression, lips pressed together and twisted, the muscle of his eyebrow arched high above one of his pale blue eyes.

“Maccus?”

“Yes, cap’n!” Maccus replied quickly, desperately removing himself from the captain’s muscular grip. “I’m fine!”

“Oh, well….that’s good, then.” Davy said awkwardly, allowing Maccus to extricate himself from the situation with no protest. He didn’t want to cause a scene. Especially given the private nature of what the captain had come to see Maccus about.

“About what happened earlier I…that was clumsy of me. I want you to rest. I don’t want…” Davy Jones looked around, at a loss for words, and finally managed to wave a hand around in the general vicinity of his first mate. “—-this. You getting hurt. I never want that.”

Maccus was unsure what to do with the rising, unidentifiable tension in the air. It was the kind he had longed for all his life in a safer environment like the Dutchman. The kind he would have sold a left foot for if only to experience for a moment. The kind of feeling of expectation people like him only got a glimpse of in fairy tales.

“No, I know. If your crew — especially your first mate — gets hurt it slows down the ship’s processes.”

Davy Jones shook his head, and he took a step closer. Maccus’ heart was beating very fast. He didn’t know what was going on, but something very essential had changed between them. Something Maccus had always wished for, and yet he had no idea how to process the ways it was fundamentally changing their relationship.

“No. I mean. When you get hurt, I feel…different. Mournful. Sad. Like if my heart was still here.” Davy lifted his claw and brought it to his chest, jabbing at the place where a heart would usually be located, if you weren’t a cursed octopus creature.

“I don’t understand.” Maccus said, his voice hushed, quiet, searching for some familiarity he could cling to.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I want to…what’s the opposite of hurting someone?” The captain was frozen on the spot now, gazing at Maccus, tentacles flicking slowly, wavering around like they were being ruffled in a gentle breeze. He was struggling to find his words. It was unlike him.

“Well, uhm…I suppose the opposite of hurting someone would be,” Maccus searched his mind, grateful for the temporary distraction to gather his thoughts. Since when was he the wordy one? Well, he supposed that at least hadn’t changed, because he couldn’t quite find an answer either. “Making them happy.”

Davy continued gazing at Maccus, and the first mate felt thrown. Was that not the right answer? He didn’t know how to think when it seemed like they were meeting for the first time all over again. Like they had found something in each other that had never been there before.

Finally, the captain did speak, easing the silence between them.

“You’re my most loyal crewmember. You keep the ship running, you’re highly skilled, you’ve never disappointed me. I hope you’ll be gracious enough to accept my returning the favour.” Davy said, taking a deep breath before he added. “Of my own loyalty, that is.”

“For the betterment of the crew, of course.” Maccus said, although the sentiment was weak, and they both felt it.

“Oh, of course. Of course.” Davy Jones nodded, although the first mate could see the hint of a nervous smile appear that was beginning to match his own. “It would simply be the most practical thing for the crew to see a unified captain and first mate.”

Maccus and Davy Jones looked at each other, and the lap of water against the ship seemed deafening. What they had both said seemed perfectly true, but the reader would be excused for thinking that perhaps something lay deeper than practical reasoning.

The captain had a small box in his hands. It was simple and rough, and cautiously, he extended it out for Maccus to take.

Equally cautiously, Maccus accepted it. He didn’t know what was going on, or what this really meant, but Davy was trying to give him something, and he would always follow orders.

Inside, there was a small gold ring threaded onto a heavy leather cord. It was inlaid with a pinkish-whitish stone, and far finer than anything Maccus had owned before.

“Is this..?” Maccus asked, suddenly feeling a little panicked at the sight of the ring.

“Oh, no!” The captain blurted out quickly, gesturing his claw and tentacle hand quickly to emphasise his point. “Not at all.”

Davy stepped closer, carefully lifting the ring up on its cord with his crab claw. His gaze was exceedingly gentle, reminding Maccus of his old self. The compassionate, intelligent, artistic sailor who only wanted to live free on the seas in a romantic, novel worthy adventure that would never have been possible.

“I used to wear this, as well as a number of other pieces of jewellery. It was given to me as a child.” The captain’s eyes were focused on the ring, a sort of wistful, longing expression. But then he raised his eyes to Maccus, and he smiled slightly. “The stone is rose quartz. It represents acceptance and love.”

Maccus felt his throat seize up, and his heart stopped beating for a sole moment. Suddenly, he remembered what Davy had said to him that morning;

‘For actual crimes’.

He knew how difficult this day was for his first mate, what the scars, the jokes, the bruises meant for Maccus. That this day was about more than just the fact that Maccus had nearly died. That it represented his struggle, and the struggle of everyone like them.

And he’d done it on a day that had been immortalised to Maccus as a constant reminder that he would never be able to have what others could on a whim.

Maccus couldn’t understand, this all seemed to be a blatant refusal of facts he had known to be true his entire life.

Davy was given this ring when he was young and still had family and friends and a life. It was important to him. It was a part of him. And he was giving it to Maccus. He wanted Maccus to have it, a stone symbolizing…

“I thought you needed new memories.” Davy watched Maccus’ stunned reaction, resisting the urge to smile, or to lay a hand on his first mate’s shoulder.

If he couldn’t have his luxuries anymore, he wanted Maccus to. And the idea that his friend would have something of his, that it might mean so much to him, it only made Davy Jones that much more attached to the ring. Maccus, by having this, could share it with his captain. It was something Davy had worn all his life, given to him as a family heirloom in his home in Scotland, and now it was Maccus’. He wanted Maccus to know that he was important enough for that.

“Happy St. Valentine’s Day, Maccus.” Davy Jones said quietly, turning to leave after several moments of silence had elapsed.

“Wait, Valentine’s? I-…that’s not…” Maccus began, but he trailed off as the captain met his gaze steadily again, his pale blue eyes glittering slightly with mischief.

Maccus had never had a Valentine’s Day. It felt strange in a way. This day was never meant to be that for him. The people who had hung him that day, they had meant it as a statement; ‘This doesn’t belong to you.’

Now the first mate found that perhaps it did.

“Happy Valentines, Cap’n.” Maccus replied, lifting up the necklace and clasping it around his neck, for his head was much too wide for it to fit over.

The captain was headed down the stairs, probably to his rooms to sleep. He turned his head over one shoulder and said, smirking. “It’s only practical, of course. It does make the most sense, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, it does make a lot of sense. Loyal captain and his loyal first mate. Been around each other too long, I’d say.”

Davy’s laugh echoed around the ship, welcoming the sun to set, and finally putting the day to a close. Maccus, who had been wishing for this very thing only moments before, was now loath to see the stars take their places in the night sky.

[mypookiebeardavyjones]

To Choose

Davy Jones needs to decide to give up the love he has, or the lost love he had.

It was quiet on the flying dutchman, silent it was a rare occasion really- most of its crew would be riled up playing their one and only game but… Tonight was simply not that night, exhaustion had filled them all.

Except for two, well you of course and the flying Dutchman's feared captain… Davy Jones himself.

Instead of terrifying he was laying in his quarters to himself; on rare occasions he would be all by himself without his organ.

You on the other hand were standing by his side, keeping him company in silence. You were his lover- the only person he allowed to get this close and personal with. The only person he allowed to share his quarters with.

You looked over at him with a head tilt, trying to peek at what he was reading but he quickly adjusted himself so it was out of view from you.

His crab claw took up most of the desk, so he used that to hide it from you.

At this point it was blatantly obvious what he’s hiding- well at least that’s what you thought.

“Jones… are… you-“ You timidly asked, afraid of his response as you knew talking or even suggesting about Calypso usually led to a not so friendly conversation.

“No- I ain’t-“ He turned from you even further, only confirming your theories more.

“…You’re re-reading the letters you sent to her..?”

He paused his movements, having a shudder, finally looking at you in shame. Seeing your disappointment and your sorrow from him still not moving on from her whilst having you was a misfortune to say the least.

“I- yes- Yes I am-“ He got up and turned to you, “Nowa I kno’ I kno’ this has been hurtin’ ya as it does me-“

“As it does you? Jones, I’ve been here for you through everything- I gave my soul to you, to serve you, to love you- while you’re still thinking of her still!”

He watched you talk about this, silent for a while as the fearsome man understood his faults in this.

“Everynight you play the song she gave to you, you spend so much time with the rest of her…you forget me… I- I’m sorry- I just-“ you back up, “I can’t do this anymore-“ you opened the door rushing out, looking for a place to avoid the captain.

Taking a second to realize what just happened, he realized he may lose you even if the oath of the flying dutchman is that her crew may not leave her. They can still run away from her.

Davy Jones got up from his seat quickly and as fast as he could look for you, he could not lose another love. For that his heart wherever it may be, should just be destroyed already.

He woke up some of the crew, making them help in his search for you. Searching everywhere they could, up and down they looked for you as Jones could feel his heart aching miles and miles away. Maccus his first mate, had found you looking at the sea in front of the ship.

“SHE’S HERE-'' He yelled, startling you standing as he waited for the captain. But Mo needed to wait as he came as fast as his crab leg and normal leg would take him.

Jones looked around at his crew pushing them away instantly saying-

“Leave us! And dontcha dare try to hear or else I’ll hang a dangling’ in front of a Kraken as a treat!” As soon as he said that, the crew went back to where they slept all together, wanting to avoid a deadly fate.

He turned back to you instantly and his expression softened.

“(Y/N)- please- stay- I-“ He tried to let the words out, you turned to him curious what he was gonna say. Your face still had the look of sorrow.

“I need ya’ please- ma pain lessens when you’re by me, you make me feel-“ he reached out for you with his closest to human hand trying to say not out loud that you make him feel like a real man again.

You held his hand, holding it softly…

“I love ya- don’t go…. Please.”

You looked at him feeling sad for the Captain.

“I want to help you heal, but I can’t do that if you don’t want to… You need to let go of her or we’ll both suffer like this.”

Jones looked away, sighing he knew it to be true, “But how do I ‘let go?’”

“Give back what was hers, as she was the sea- the waves will find a way to bring it to her.” You looked into his eyes as he pondered your words, thinking if he really should. Give up a lost love or make amends for the love he has now…

He felt stupid for even thinking about this, in his head, Calypso does not love him anymore. So why betray the one who does now?

“I will, for ya-“ he holds onto your hand tightly sighing to himself.

You smiled and hugged him, regardless of the rags and tears with the barnacle infestation of his jacket you just wanted to show how you love him. He hugged back, realizing maybe this might be a way to heal for both of you.

——

A/N I forgot like halfway after writing that I realized Calypso gave Davy Jones the ship, but- I was mostly talking about the music box they both had. 😭😭😭

[savvythepirate]

Cold hearted (part two)

Pairing: Davy Jones x reader

Warnings: None

Requested by: @friendlynova

The Request:

Part two of “Cold hearted” as requested!

***

You’re unsure on how the Dutchman managed to track you down, but when he does, he approaches you at once.

You stood frozen in fear, thinking Davy Jones was here to make you meet your end days, but that was not the case at all. As if you were already uncomfortable of the thought of being anywhere near him, you felt even more unsettling as he drew nearer.

When he takes the last step, you’re both a few feet apart from each other and silence is what remains. It was a dare you were unwilling to take to meet his eyes directly with your (e/c) ones. Anyone that has been in your shoes would be the ones to better understand why this is, still no one could blame you after those words he spoke angrily towards you just a little over a year ago. That whole incident was still fresh in memory as if it happened yesterday rather then the actual timing.

Flashback to that night, you were taking charge in the last of your responsibilities as part of the Dutchman’s crew. The last thing you were taking care of was sweeping the floorboards beneath your feet that contained dust in some areas where water couldn’t quite reach those spots. Next thing you know, Davy Jones makes his way from around the corner and spots you. The absolute true reason for being so cruel to you was because he soon finds out that there have been survivors from the Kraken attack on Jack Sparrow and Will Turner. You were the first encounter, the closest he got to before Davy basically wished the worst upon worst for you, and until he reached his cabin was when he got the chance to think back on the things he’s said to you and he almost immediately regrets it. Davy knew he couldn’t lose you, the only crew member on the Dutchman he truly cares about. Davy was planning on going out to look for you but wanted a little bit more time for himself to really think things through, so that he would be bound to be sure he wouldn’t upset you more then he already had.

With the help of Bootstrap Bill, you were able to escape the Dutchman late that same night. He wanted to help you escape right after you told him what happened.

“We have to get you off this ship, (Y/n).”

“I agree, but how do I make the move without being noticed or caught by Davy Jones?”

“We wait until it’s much later, right now, go gather the things you’ll be needing for your departure.”

You nod and take off to do just that. The both of you were planning this out thinking that no one was paying any mind to it, but that’s where you’re wrong. As Maccus was keeping up with his routines, he heard as Bootstrap Bill started making an escape plan for you to leave in secret.

After you had taken off, that’s when Maccus goes to Davy and informs him of the news of your plans to escape and how Bootstrap was basically the ring leader on this escape plan. Davy’s eyes widened at this news before pushing Maccus aside and made his approach to where he was told he could find you. When he appeared, Davy realizes that he was too late, that you were gone. For now, at least. He was going to hunt you down until he finds you and brings you back without giving you any choice. However, his idea of your returning unto him and your former crew mates played out differently when he found you at last, being placed in your presence and it wasn’t hard for him to figure out that you were feeling very uncomfortable, and even a little frightened to be anywhere near him, in his presence. Davy didn’t blame you for the way you were feeling because he knew that it was at his fault you felt this way.

During your ongoing journey since leaving the Dutchman, you had ran into Jack Sparrow and accepted his offer for a spot in his crew. It was easy to see that he was willing to take a random stranger almost always without questions. But when he met you, he knew then you had a story to tell and after telling it, that’s when you’ve been welcomed aboard the Black Pearl. Jack watched you close so that you’re not in any danger or harm that some of the most aggressive crew mates can get. Your adventure on the Pearl was certainly going to be remembered always. There have been close calls when you sail by the Dutchman, fearing that you’d be seen and taken, Jack literally pushed you down so that your out of sight.

“Stay put.” He ordered, you nodded and did as he said.

Now here you are, on the island that held the chest everyone was after. Jack and Will started digging in the sand until their shovels had come into contact with a hard object.

You didn’t want to be a part of digging the heart out of the chest, you knew what was going to happen. Just as Will takes his dagger out to plunge it into the beating heart, you turned away and started strolling along the shoreline of the sea. It was helping you to feel more at peace after walking away, but that peace would be stolen moments later when you had ran into him. After two long years, you have encountered each others or the first time. At first, you stood frozen until you hear Jack talking to Will Turner.

“I can’t let you do that, mate.”

Not only was your attention fixed on the scene unfolding before you, it had also taken Davy’s attention off you. But only for a split second before turning back to face you, and you knew what he has come for.

You.

Davy no longer felt the pressure of tracking you down as before, now that he’s made his success. The look on his eyes were telling you he had something to ask you, and you already know that he’s going to ask you to return to him.

You speak first.

“I know why you’re here, I wouldn’t even bother to ask.” You say bitterly.

The bitter tone of your voice seemed to really throw your former captain off guard.

In that split second moment, you couldn’t help but feel a bit victorious, triumphant even. Just as everyone else, Davy was use to you never sounding as cold as you were being towards him now, but then again, it was no way in your fault. The captain was just about to respond when you were both interrupted by Jack Sparrow’s voice.

“I can’t let you do that, mate.”

When you see that Jack and Will Turner had found the chest, you took that opportunity to run, and it was a quick enough move that Davy Jones had no time to try and stop you. Just as anyone would, you made a run for it towards the Black Pearl and made it on safely. Gibbs was still on aboard and seemed surprise to see you returning alone. Gibbs didn’t question it when he remembered that the enemy was on the same land, and knowing of your past on the Dutchman, he didn’t want to dismay you, so he kept quiet.

You didn’t feel safe until the Pearl started to sail again, seeing Jack walking around with the jar of dirt he was keeping close using his arm. That’s when things seemingly took a turn for the worst, just as you made yourself believe that you were away from any kind of serious trouble, you along with the rest of the crew, went for cover as the Dutchman sails up close to the Pearl. As Jack Sparrow was mocking Davy, you tried staying out of sight when Gibbs came to you with the idea to mess around as a distraction when Jack tripped and fell.

“Come to negotiate you slimy git?” Jack begins mocking.

You roll your eyes just as you feel a slight, playful hit to your shoulder and seeing that it was Gibbs, you turned to see him holding a small carton box of rocks. Now knowing what he had planned, you obliged and joined in with him, throwing the rocks at the Dutchman as it passes by, just as Jack Sparrow takes his terrible fall.

The both of you then start throwing the rocks, and you had even hit a couple of the crew mates that populated the Dutchman. You were still trying to shield yourself behind a stack of barrels, but when one hit really close to Davy, that’s when your cover was pretty much blown, by the hand of your own.

“Ah!” you squeak, continuing to do your best to hide, though you know he had already seen you and it was too late.

Knowing that Davy Jones had knowledge of your whereabouts now, had you nearly paranoid. You did not, and wasn’t going back to him or to be part of his crew.

Seeing him stepping foot on the same land as you was enough already. Knowing that you got to speak before he could, made you feel a little more powerful, more in control. It even made you feel ready for the next, yet unexpected encounter. Only this time, it wasn’t on land, it was an appearance on the Pearl late into the night. It happened while everyone, including Jack Sparrow, was asleep. You were battling with the familiar routine of a sleepless night, ever since that on land encounter. Usually when you would have the trouble of sleeping, you would sneak out of your cabin and walk around the ship, mainly the deck to look at the stars and to see if you could spot any planets.

Although you knew you were on the Pearl to run from your former captain, you knew that you were to encounter again sometime and that he wouldn’t rest until he had you back. Just the thought of that made you feel just as exhausting as it sounded, and knowing you were willing to go back with him, you were going to play a game of your own and get him to ask you, maybe even plea for you to come back again. You almost couldn’t wait for when that time comes, and it was coming sooner then you originally had thought. As you were leaning over the ship’s railing, you felt a presence behind you and you knew just who it was.

Davy Jones.

It was all quiet and silent, Davy was hiding in the shadows and you knew it. After a while, you decided it was time to give in and talked to him, so you urged for Davy to step out of the shadows.

The games begin and as the player and host, you begin.

“Come on out, don’t be shy… we both know you’re there, Davy Jones. I can’t believe you’re actually here..” you lie, feeling now that he’s by your side.

Davy doesn’t say anything at first, and when the silence let on, you continue to say whatever you wanted.

At first, you told yourself that Davy doesn’t get any room to say anything whatsoever. But then something in your jar you reconsider and against your possibly better judgment, you did, therefore, allowed him to say what he has to say.

“I know you have no intention on returning to come back aboard, but I’ve just come back to ask you again. Please, will you come back-“

Instead of speaking, you shake your head as if to say ‘no’ and as you do so, Davy sighs heavily, while you could tell that Davy was thinking deeply in what to say to get you to come back with him. Though Davy’s thoughts were interrupted by Jack Sparrow.

“Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here? What gives you the authority and right to come upon my ship when you know you’re never wanted or welcome? More importantly, what right do you have to be talking to my crew?”

Moments later, you watch as Davy argues with Jack Sparrow about letting it so you’re to go with him. But as expected, and to Davy’s dismay, Jack Sparrow did not agree.

“Can’t let you do that, mate. She’s part of my crew now, unless she wants to, (Y/n) is going absolutely no where. Get off my ship now or you won’t like what happens if you don’t.” Jack pipes up, his eyes quickly flickering between you and Davy.

Davy doesn’t respond to Jack, but he starts speaking to you again, instead. You could tell that Jack was ready to have him by his head if he didn’t get up and leave when Davy speaks to you, you almost have the urge to talk yourself into literally spit in his face and walk away back to your cabin.

Of course what he says next, you were sure it’s manipulation to get you to agree to come back with him. But it was in fact, the quite opposite to what you had thought, Davy was being sincere with an apology while going on to explain why your place goes more with him then it does Jack Sparrow.

“You’re the best crew mate who actually knows what she’s doing. No one else can do what you do… honestly, (Y/n). Please-“

You could no longer take it, if it would shut him up, you would go back with him. But only under one condition, that being he can’t talk to you like that ever again and if he did, then you were gone again… for good.

“Alright! I’ll go with you, but only under one condition; you never can talk to me like that ever again.”

“Never again.” Davy agrees.

You nod in agreement of this deal before turning back to Jack Sparrow, who looked shocked and almost disappointed. The look on his face had your heart skip a beat in slight guilt, as you were going to give him your final thanks and goodbyes.

“Thank you for everything, Jack. Really it’s been great. But I’m afraid this is where I must leave to start fresh in the next chapter of my life.”

Jack nods in response as he watches you leave with Davy Jones. Unbeknownst to you, the next chapter in your life has a lot of interesting things in store for you.

Starting with a new relationship with your captain.

One you couldn’t explain.

***

@savvythepirate

Requests: Open

Tags: @princessofthornsandroses @justafairytailofinnocence @marsswann

[kyuoki]

THEY👏DESERVE👏MORE👏FANARTS

[scottishoctopus]

Who is your favorite crew member Mr Jones?? Personally I like the eel headed one!

"Ah believe yah would be speakin' of Moray, he's a nice chap- uh. Mine has always been Maccus, my loyal first mate since the very beginnin'!" Jones exclaims lightly with a smile.

Maccus then pops his hammerhead shark head from around one of the masts with a sharp toothy grin.

"Thanks, cap'n!"

[beemovieerotica]

who rolls the best blunts on the flying dutchman?

oh, maccus, without a doubt. dealing with jones' bullshit and managing everybody else as first mate means he smokes like a fucking chimney.

to be clear, most of the trusted mates also smoke but their blunt-rolling game is pathetic. it's probably because they only have like, 2 eyes and maybe 6 usable fingers between them. they prefer bongs.

[count-v-dracula]

{ meme } | accepting ;••••; @firstmatesharksteak​ asked▬

💋

The Devil’s Doom had lulled herself into a speed that matched the intensity of the waves: slow and slow. Nassau was still a week away into the north west from Hispaniola where a new crew member was acquired, no, traded for. A series of minor transactions to be completed for a larger deal. The undead often crossed paths among their own, but not those that were far more seabound than the Romanian and his own. The first mate was a new sight and a new specimen aboard the Devil’s Doom. As loyal and as harsh as they come, too. Respectable and desireable traits to be had in a crew member. The vampire captain’s own had no choice but to be loyal, for he knew their every thought and move before they could speak it. But this...Maccus, and the rest of Jones’ lot were immune to the invasive powers belonging to the lifeless corpse of a captain. It was infuriating at first, and still was, but it left the former Count to resort to more practical and ordinary means of getting what he wanted from the mind of Maccus.

Days turned one into the other, the daylight hours forcing most of the vampiric crew to find rest in the belly of the ship, though their leader would often pass his weaker hours out on deck -- even if the sun did its best to obliterate the unholy thing, but only did his flawless skin show signs of irritation and resistance to the power of light which did little to purge the black-blooded demon from being.

And as time dragged on, entertainment was sought. A few rounds of Karniffel were played, and bets were made if any player did not win the set number of tricks had to pay up. And Vladislaus was among them -- and a few laughs were to be had at the price to be paid: a kiss for the first mate to the loser. A master of both showing his thoughts and concealing them chose the latter. He would pay the price, but it was not specified as to when or where...

The sun began her descent the next day, the sky, a bursting canvas of orange, deep mauave and lavender on the underbelly of rippling clouds, and Maccus was found by the vampire to have completed an assigned duty. “You’re relieved, Vlad said flatly, but with no less authority. “But, first--a fulfillment on my end.” Ringed fingers caught beneath Maccus’ chin to draw him in for a kiss. It was not chaste, nor brief -- for Dracula in all his life, in any chapter of it, never settled for, nor gave half. Perhaps that was his only redeeming quality. His hard, cold mouth sealed about the first mate’s own, paying the price in full.

The vampire drew himself away slowly, his fingertips the last to leave from where they had rested. “Carry on,” he spoke in a hushed voice, after clearing his throat like a typical mortal caught in a precarious situation.

[assortedvillainvault]

Hello! I saw your requests are open, and I was wondering if you could write some headcanons either for Hector Barbossa or Davy Jones. I recently rewatched PotC and somehow fell for both of them <3 I can't really decide between them though, so I'll leave the choice to you for which of them you want to write (of course you can also do both but I don't want to ask for too much)

For the scenario I don't have anything specific in mind, I'd appreciate any cute fluff honestly. If you want some kind of guideline, maybe something along the lines "how they express their love for their s/o" (the reader can be female or gender-neutral), but if you have a different idea feel free to write that instead^^

I'd be happy if you can make something from my request :D

I am. SO sorry for how long it has taken for me to get to this request - thank you so much for your patience and I hope you enjoy some quality fluff for these crusty old men:

(I tend to write any x Readers as gender neutral by default)

Barbossa X Reader Fluff Headcannons

Barbossa, for all his grandeur and posturing, doesn't actually want you to be the meek pushover kind of partner.

He's an unrepentant drama queen with a childish streak and a love of games. If anything, what he wants is a partner with enough gumption to meet his antics head on.

AKA he wants to argue with you enough that you steal his hat, run around his cabin with him in hot pursuit and then snog under the stars once he catches you. Yknow. #JustCaptainThings

He's going to be dramatic 24/7. It's just his nature at this point. You can't change it. Jack is insane, Norrington is noble, Jones has a pout strong enough to put the sea itself on the housing market and Barbossa is waxing lyrical at the wheel while you turn a spectacular shade of red and the crew desperately avoids eye contact.

You're getting draped in the spoils of the pirate hoard whether you want it or not. Just waking up absolutely draped in pearls and jewels while he parses the rest of the stash for the right shade of silk to match your eyes.

He's a touchy guy. Wants you close by at all times if not all but draped over him. Will not hesitate to pull you into his lap. Get comfy.

If somebody has to gall to disrespect you he has two modes:

1. You deal with the offender yourself while he watches from the top railing - all but hollering 'That be my WIFE/HUSBAND/PARTNER!' and yeeting the nearest hat into the ocean as you break your assailants noses.

2. You're overpowered and he strides in with a spitting fury, pistols smoking as the offenders drop like bloody flies. 'That-' he seeths, sword drawn and held to quivering throats, '-be my Wife/Husband/Partner you mangy disgrace of a half-drunken curr.'

If Jack so much as blinks fliratiously at you Barbossa won't peel himself from your side for over a week.

Davy Jones X Reader Fluff Headcannons

It's barely noticable, the fact that you're together.

You can't blame him for keeping his distance and reputation up around the crew, his last disastrous attempt at love was quite literally the stuff of legend after all.

In private however, it's different.

He's getting more and more comfortable with letting you touch him - running gentle hands over coral growths, crab claw and eventually, his beard. Letting your facination and awe chip away at centuries of self loathing bit by bit.

He has a harsh exterior but the moments of softness, when they happen, steal your breath enough that you seriously reconsider that cutting his heart out dulled his feelings in any way.

He's teaching you how to navigate. Both via maps and by the stars. It always ends up more as cuddling and quiet conversation.

While you're on deck, Maccus (the Hammerhead shark first mate) will sometimes order you to the captains cabin. These orders aren't from Jones, who Maccus knows will avoid help until the sea boils into mist, but becuase the first mate has already recognised that you're good for eachother and he's sick of his Captain wallowing in self pity.

Maccus knows exactly what's going on between you two and is just praying that you hurry up and kiss in front of the crew already so he can stop covering for you both. A+ wingman first mate, honestly.

Over time, Jones's organ playing stops being endless renditions of Calypso's song and his theme for the Kracken, and instead shift to a new tune, one you and the crew are unfamiliar with.

It takes you weeks before you realise the halting notes and muttered scribbling is him composing you a song.

The first time the clear, bellowing notes of the organ boom out over the sea for you is the first time you see him smile to himself without a shred of malice and your hearth does a backflip - becuase That is the expression you vowed to bring about as much as humanly possible.

If you're apart, then letters. So many letters. Letters in little bottles, letter tied to floatring barrels, letters in bottles carried by octopi becuase the Kracken commands many tiny minions, letters that are smudged and spotty and full of love he can never seem to express in person. You send yours back the same way and they're guaranteed to reach him, no matter where the Dutchman is.