#potc x reader

[captain-camille]

_𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞_

‣ Jack Sparrow x f!reader

‣ As a young woman of noble blood, society is a golden cage. There is no mention of you unless the subject is marriage or manners while your trip to Port Royal has become a rescue maneuver. One faithful night aboard the Dauntless you finally snap. And meet the captive Captain Jack Sparrow...

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 18+ language, old society rules, emotional chaos, very light angst ‣ 3,4k words

Your dress weighed heavy on your shoulders, the corset strangled your lungs to a delicate point where you began to feel dizzy.

Silver cutlery laid untouched next to your empty plate. The hunger had long passed. 

Either way was it impossible to properly eat with this torture device crushing your ribs. You would fetch a banana later.

“Miss Sheffield“ Lord Somerset hardly drew your attention while he adjusted his white wig “I find myself greatly invested in the many stories of your brother. They're indeed impressive, are they not?“.

It took nerves to hinder your eyes from rolling.

Instead, you gave him an appreciative but short nod. There was bitter sarcasm within the subtlety of your gesture.

Another man's head, adorned with a teal hat with feathers, turned towards you. Father.

“They are, clearly“. You verbally lend weight to your faux-assent as your father's stern gaze fixed on your face.

You suspected him pleased now.

However, his interest in you promptly vanished and a song of praise of someone else continued to fall from his pale lips.

Sweet, boisterous praise for your great brother, of course. 

You were sick of it but with time had begun to see it as an opportunity to reign over your own life as freely as possible.

For as long as possible.

Every eye and word was on your brother while you, the sister of the new Governor of Nassau and member of the Privy Council, were neigh invisible.

And still you could never leave the shiny prison that was the English noble society. Like living in a nightmare that had occasional sunlight in it but was full of madness anyway.

As the men's triumphant laughter echoed across the room, you pictured how Davy Jones' Locker would be a better place to bide your time.

Or maybe you should run away and live a seamstress' life. Alternatively, a barmaid.

In the corner of your vision you saw Norrington slightly leaning over to you. The new Commodore stationed in Port Royal, as he was.

“You look fabulous tonight, Miss“ he cooed, voice low.

His blue gaze rested on the glittering necklace you wore. A collective of silver, sapphires and pearls Lord Somerset had gifted you upon boarding the Dauntless.

Or perhaps Norrington's gaze laid on your cleavage but if so, he concealed it well.

He had to. Hell would come upon him.

You flashed him a polite smile and a demure “Thank you, Commodore“ before your eyes wandered off to the sea that was painted in the colors of a tropical sunset.

The windows were small but still incapable to diminish the glimmer. It went straight to your heart...

“Since you are a young woman, too-“ the man continued, hoisting a chalice to his lips. Beneath the table, your hand balled in a fist.

It did little to soothe your nerves, though.

“-I wondered whether you would think Elizabeth liked such jewelry as, um, a wedding gift?“ his smooth voice asked but the hesitant tone betrayed him.

You had long seen it in his eyes that Norrington's desires to marry Swann's daughter weren't as honest as he tried to make it seem.

Just as Elizabeth struggled to let go of the young blacksmith Will Turner she was currently trying to rescue.

Just fellow souls lost in this noble dilemma, you almost chuckled to yourself.

Luckily, you were quick enough to bridle any inner jests and looked back in Norrington's eyes.

“I’m most certain she would be delighted. However, it occurred to me that Miss Swann prefers silver to gold.“ you advised him before he got dragged back into a naval discussion with the men. 

Not even thanks were left for your input.

Once again your brother's name was thrown around like a cricket ball. 

The urge to just leave this charade of a dinner grew stronger while darkness began to fall upon the majestic Dauntless.

Candle light reflected in the men’s white and grey wigs like it would in the feathers of doltish pigeons.

Nearly scoffing, the focus of your eyes blurred.

Thoughts wandered off to the small bits of information you had grasped throughout the last two days; a business trip to Port Royal had turned into quite an amusing rescue maneuver as Norrington spotted the smoke signal Elizabeth was sending from a lonely island. 

She was brought onto the ship along with a mysterious pirate who turned out to be none other than the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow.

Lord, he seemed so different to the men you were used to. So interesting…

“Yn, the Lord's question was, would you be his companion on a visit to your brother?“ The raspy voice of your father suddenly cut through your thoughts like a sharp knife. 

You cleared your throat, hiding a muttered “god, no“ along the cough.

No, you simply couldn’t do this any longer tonight.

Tomorrow morning the misery would begin anew and the nights were too short anyway.

Dinner was over for you, you decided and shot up, heading towards the door. 

“Young Miss, where do you think you are going?“ your father called across the room, causing you to spin and face him along with everyone else seated on the grand table.

An unreadable expression settled on your face, lips moving on behalf of your temper. 

“Father, I do believe you won’t miss me much while conversing solely about my brother“. 

Norrington let out a shaky breath, his head turning to expect your father’s answer. Obviously, he was used to Elizabeth's docile manners.

The grey wig beneath Lord Sheffield's hat shifted slightly as he cocked his head.

He looked ridiculous. 

“Then go, yn. I do not have the time nor the patience for your behavior right now“ he sighed, waving his hand in an enervated gesture of dismissal “Check on Miss Swann when you pass by“.

The stingy sensation of the corset fighting your big breaths vexed you, along with your father's aloof attitude.

Nevertheless, he granted you exactly what you wanted; to leave and mind your own business.

A business that had preferably sparsely to do with these men.

“Thank you, sir. I will“ you curled your lips, forcing a hasty smile before your knees bent in a curtsy. “Lord Somerset, thank you again for the generous gift. Commodore“.

The Lord stood up with his chest puffed, trying to address you. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Sheffield. I wish you a good-“  

But the rest of his irrelevant set-phrase was cut off by the door closing behind your back. It snapped shut with a soft rock of the Dauntless.

As if she felt sorry for you.

Taking a big breath of the fresh sea breeze your tongue finally spoke some truth. “Damn you, Somerset“.

It felt good, even if it did little to improve your situation.

You knew you had to get away from the cabins or else your words of pent-up frustration would eventually find them.

Maybe you would find solace on the quarterdeck instead?

As you marched up the stairs with a grimace on your face from how impractical the heavy dress was, a young maid brushed past you with filled wineglasses on a silver tray. 

She smiled with respect, but could barely hide her excited look at the luxurious necklace.

Her soft lips parted when she spoke up in awe “If I may, Baron Somerset really is doting upon you, Miss“.

At her comment, the matching earrings with the similarly cut sapphires began to itch.

“So it seems“ you answered flatly, still trying your best not to let it all out on the innocent girl. 

“I happen to have overheard him talking about how beautiful your children would be“ she added with enthusiasm, unaware of your aversion to said nobleman.

You felt your gut twist and tighten at the vision alone. 

Children with this man? No.

On the brink of screaming or crying, your hand flew up to grab one of the glasses.

“Did he now?“ You hoisted it and bathed your upper lip in the sweet taste of Portuguese wine “Golden me“. 

Hearing her colleague call for her, the maid quickly curtsied and made her way down to the main cabin.

You sighed heavily, taking another sip.

Up on the spacious quarterdeck you wasted no time, set the glass down on a random barrel and began to take off your earrings. 

They were burning on your skin now.

Anger, chagrin and despair rioted in your veins like a hurricane.

So untamed, you didn’t even notice the man at the helm observing your actions through curious eyes.

“To hell-“ you shouted, kicking your right foot so that your shoe flew overboard in a wide arc “with you, father“ the other shoe followed suit.

“And Somerset“ you tossed one earring into the black sea, holding the other one while you unhooked the expensive necklace.

You didn’t hesitate a second to proceed with this macabre yet somehow weirdly freeing act of rebellion.

With your right arm outstretched, jewelry in your hands, you stood at the ship’s railing, wind in your face.

“And to the depths with this society of hypocrites and it's stupid rules“ your now hoarse voice exclaimed bitterly before your tossing arm got stopped mid way. 

What?

Twisting on your stocking feet, you ended up only inches away from Jack Sparrow’s face who was grinning at you with a pleased sparkle in his dark eyes.

You didn't dare to breathe, mouth agape.

He was still holding onto your arm even though you had lowered it in a mixture of shock and awe.

“Not good. Ye wouldn't wanna be doin' that, lassie“ the pirate purred, gold teeth adding to the captivating shine of his eyes.

Since the Navy took him prisoner, you had never spoken to him. Only eves-dropped when he had persuaded Norrington as if it was easy.

And now you could feel his breath fan across your face, the scent of the sea and rum intoxicating your brain.

Slowly, he unwrapped and lifted his fingers off your arm. One by one like a fan.

“Why not? You cannot stop me“ you eventually found your courage again and yanked your arm away. 

The man scrunched his brows, lips closing. The many trinkets in his dreadlocks clinked as Sparrow cocked his head.

Your eyes were slaves to his eccentric mimic for a little while before you finally got to step back.

His presence somehow calmed you down, brought your nerves to a halt. All the way to the point where you remembered your manners.

“My apologies, Mister Sparrow. I didn’t mean to-“ you began to apologize for the snappy behavior but he interjected with a finger pointing at you.

“Never be sorry for disobeying rules that aren't worth following, luv“.

Irritated by the unexpectedly wise words, you found yourself at a loss for an answer.

This man was a real pirate after all. The closest thing to an anarchical life there was. 

Your heart pumped awe through your veins that began to pacify the storm within. 

Features dropping from trained, polite distance to honest distress, your gaze darted down to the jewelry in your hand. It was worth at least as much as your entire collection of summer gowns. 

The blue stones seemed somewhat black tonight.

As grim as your future. With Somerset. Or any other noble, dim-witted aristocrat. 

The pirate just stood and watched the tragic poem being written all over your beautiful face. His silence allowed the gears in your mind to shift.

Then, you seemed put.

“What even are you doing at the helm, Sparrow?“ You asked to avoid any potential questions when you mindlessly chucked the bundle of jewelry to him.

He grinned again as an audible clink and clatter signaled you that he had caught it.

You were sure that Sparrow had a better use for it than you did. Whatever it may be.

Admittedly, you would have just thrown it overboard or locked it away in a random jewel casket for eternity.

A husky gravel met your ears when he cleared his throat after sinking the necklace deep into the inside pocket of his brown jacket.

It was as if he knew you didn't have any expectation of thanks or desire for inquiring about your deed.

“Isla de la Muerta can only be found by those who already know where it is-“.

Slow steps of heavy boots on wooden tiles neared you from your left.

“And rumors have it me, meself and I have a heading Norrington doesn’t, savvy?“ Sparrow slurred, snapping open a compass as he leaned his back against the railing next to you.

With your eyes raking over the dusk ocean, you couldn’t help but risk a peak over to his hands.

You grimaced. The compass obviously didn’t point north.

Was he tricking the Commodore?

Suddenly, Jack chuckled, clearly having seen your expression.

“Nah... tale for another night“ he simply stated closing the small, brown box again.

His intense gaze crawled all over your side profile and pinned updo. “Tell me somethin’ about ye, Missy. Plagued by those wig-suckers, eh?“ 

You gave a snort of laughter, enjoying his unfiltered way of addressing the men you were used to calling 'Lord', 'Governor' or 'Commodore'.

“You know exactly who I am. Do not call me Missy“ you snapped, biting down a playful smile no one had ever elicited as easily as the foreign pirate did.

Perhaps it should worry you but it didn’t in the slightest. 

Jack arched his figure to lean back more and study your edged expression from the front. You tried to shoot him an unfazed look but the pirate saw right through it and smiled widely. 

How he could read you so emphatically was far beyond what you were used to from men. It confused you. 

Just as it puzzled Jack that your behaviour was so devoid of any of the hospitality and judgement he had come to expect from your class.

It only drew the both of you deeper into whatever this conversation would become.

“Apologies, me bad. Miss Sheffield“ his deep voice cooed, finally cracking your surface and putting a soft blush on your cheeks.

“It never occurred to me that Pirates can be this charming“ you snickered with a hint of irony, eyes resting on Sparrow’s unique features for a moment.

His tanned skin was reflecting the flickering light of oil lamps. Sparrow was a handsome man, you realized.

Effortlessly and in tune with the ship's rocking, the man pushed off the railing to trail behind you.

“I always expected Pirates to be more- rogue, I suppose“ you mused, more to yourself.

Sparrow tsk'ed but he didn't seem hurt.

Your head cocked when you felt his hot breath close to the nape of your neck.

“A Shilling that I can alter your outlook on Pirates all by me onesies, eh?“ His comment was nonchalant and smug but in a swinging way.

This man had nerves. 

“Didn't I just give you a collier worth far more than one Shilling?“ you asked rhetorically, amplifying the perky tone.

The pirate hummed, as if contemplating. “Alright, then. Consider your debt paid“.

It was utterly refreshing to converse so freely without any rules or boundaries. You grew fond of it with every passing second. 

When Sparrow didn’t re-appear on your other side, you turned around to spot him chugging down the wine you had abandoned in your rage.

“Sorry, it’s no rum but-“

“-good. That’s good“ he complimented the red liquid, analyzing the ornate chalice through narrowed eyes before he sat it back down.

Carefully, with his pinky stretched out with decorum.

You caught yourself giggling but promptly covered your mouth with a palm. Habits. 

“So, Miss Sheffield...“ the pirate urged you, swaggering closer until he stood by your side again. His elbows were quickly propped on the reddish railing.

“Pray tell“.

You sighed. However, the will to empty your heart was unbreakable. 

It was easier when your gaze found shelter in the darkness of the Caribbean night but Sparrow’s stare lingered on you nonetheless. 

“I- I feel like- No, I am trapped. Trapped in a golden cage with only dull bumbles who want to possess women of standing as if they were accessories for their prevalence-striven plans“ you began to complain, your words gaining speed and intensity throughout the sentence. 

Honest pity flashed behind the pirate's charcoal outlined eyes.

The man had never thought he was capable of pitying those who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths.

And still, there he stood, stricken by the pain in your melodic voice.

You gasped for air, your mind wanting to go on but your throat began to burn on the verge of crying.

“I must behave according to the rules of society, no matter what it is I truly desire. All the poisoned praise goes to my brother while I am only of importance when the subject of my marriage is discussed“.

“Ye brother be the new Governor of Nassau?“ Sparrow eventually asked, his gaze sliding down to where your nails were nervously scratching lines into the wooden railing.

You couldn’t help but scoff in annoyance of his title. “Yes, that be him“. 

The man next to you shrugged his shoulders, the trinkets and charms once again clinking. You would love to find out where he got each of them from.

“I could, in fact, sack Nassau port for ye as soon as I rip me Pearl from Barbossa’s slimy, old hands“ a tad of disgust infused his bold words at the foreign name.

“Jus' a humble offer. What ye say, lassie?“. 

Sparrow was trying to cheer you up.

A small smile began to reign over your lips again, toes curling. “That would only get you killed, fierce pirate“ you noted, trying to sound as judicious and rational as possible.

Instead, he grinned even broader and spread his arms in an eccentric, self-presenting pose. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, luv“ he declared as if it was self-explanatory.

For the first time in a while the sea breeze caught and carried your sincere laughter.

Sparrow’s braided goatee twitched as he found himself biting his lip at the pretty sound and look.

You were a stunning woman in noble clothes with noble blood in your veins but with a spirit as wild and ravenous as his own.

You enthralled him.

“Bring this to my daughter. She shall eat, at least. The Commodore risks too much by rescuing young Turner, he cannot afford to see his fiancé unwell“ Governor Swann’s order suddenly boomed across the main deck, followed by hasty steps of a maid.

Instinctively, Sparrow snaked his hand around your shoulder, across your chest and pulled you back with him.

Out of sight.

His rough hand on your mouth muffled a shrill cry just enough. 

“They thinkin’ yer asleep, eh, Miss Sheffield?“ His voice was lowered, almost just a husk and yet it was filled with this mischievous, flirtatious tone.

God, this man sent shivers down your spine like no other. 

But he was still a lawless pirate.

A prisoner, even.

Suddenly, whyever, the gravity of your situation and the futility of tonight's zeal made you feel how cold and wet the floor was without shoes.

Brown dreadlocks pressed against the back of your head irrevocably disheveled your updo. 

“Asleep, as I should be...“ you muttered, infused with a hint of re-surfacing anger and despair.

You wriggled yourself out of his protective grasp. The pirate's brow was raised, eyes narrowed on your face.

There was a haze of danger and waywardness about Jack Sparrow that made you question your own courage and spirit. 

“Why did I even tell you all that in the first place?“ you exclaimed, hands thrown up. Slowly stepping away from him, you felt all the emotions crushing your mind.

“You most likely do not care, neither do I profit by wailing. It doesn’t bear contemplating...“.

Sparrow wrapped his right hand back around the handle of the helm, looking rather unfazed by the confusion that was spreading in your system like the Portuguese wine in his own. 

Heavy silence and the occasional laughter from the men in the Captain’s cabin mingled with the soft splash of sea water. 

Your feelings were now as erratic as the rhythm of the crashing waves.

“Look 'ere, luv“.

Your gaze was just about to turn from pleading to the usual bored emptiness as you saw his free hand wander down to his leather belt.

A smirk adorned his bearded face when skilled fingers rapidly detached the compass and threw it over to you.

Stumbling slightly as the ship rocked, you caught the brown box before it could hit the ground.

You heard Sparrow mutter a muted “Thank god“ that made you want to snap at him but the gesture was too interesting not to query.

Why would he think you needed a compass?

Fluster painted your features when you met his weirdly satisfied expression.

“Aren’t you Captain Jack Sparrow? Don’t you need a compass for... that?“ You asked with less challenge in your tone than initially planned.

He chuckled beautifully, shaking his head with eyes closed.

“What?“ You probed when his dark gaze began to rise up from the floor, along your figure.

“I may be without me compass but not without heading and a plan“ the pirate finally explained, taking another step closer to the helm “You, contrastingly and tragically, lack both“. 

Your arms came up and crossed defensively in front of your chest.

But his words and the tight corset made you drop them again rather quickly. 

He was right. You had been lamenting about your situation barely three minutes ago.

“So? What exactly is your compass going to change about that, Sparrow?“.

You peered down at the inconspicuous looking box.

“Everythin'.“ Sparrow stated with a touch of mystery. “Listen what ye heart wants and the compass is gonna give ye a heading, savvy?“.

A big part of you wanted to believe what this infuriatingly interesting man promised while another voice was whispering to you how it was literal magic he was implying.

Magic. 

With a hesitant gesture of offering it back to him, you hoped to find out which voice to listen to.

“But you would want it back, right? It is yours after all“ you commented your action with genuine concern and a small smile.

Plus, the fear that Norrington would kill Jack if he couldn’t find the Isla without his compass. 

Captured by the pirate for one last time, you watched his gold teeth flash in a wide grin, his tattooed hand spreading on his chest as a sign of integrity.

He was being honest, you felt it.

“I will be gettin’ it back, luv. Don't ye worry“. 

Before you creeped down the stairs and eventually headed for your cabin to ponder on your heart's desires, the last you saw of Captain Jack Sparrow was a charming wink. 

The last for now, at least.

♡ thank you so much for reading my very first POTC fic ever ♡

𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐨 𝐡𝐨

@mochie85 @holdmytesseract @socksracoon10 @goldencherriess @chronicallybubbly @kcd15 @always-on-hiatus

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: pillaging, drinking, guns, overall piratey things

↳ song: september (instrumental)—sparky deathcap

masterlist!

• So much running

• Running along ships, running to catch ships, running for your life—

• Mostly that last one if you were being honest

• The both of you had been running side by side for as long as either of you could remember

• You had met Jack many moons ago when you had been nothing but a dishwasher at a bar in Tortuga—mopping floors and blood up with no purpose in life. No direction whatsoever

• He changed that

• Ever since that night, the two of you chatting it up at a bar over one too many bottles of rum, nothing had been able to separate you

• Not even Davy Jones's locker

• In his absence, as you called it (you refused to believe Jack could be gone forever), you had been the one working tirelessly to retrieve the chart to the other side. The one to take charge of what was left of The Pearl's crew. And most certainly the one who missed him the most, although you preferred not to let anyone in on that last bit

• When you finally laid eyes upon him against the sandy shores of every pirates worst life after death, you couldn't stop yourself from throwing yourself at him with joy

• He was just as happy to see you

• "And you're sure they're not courting each other Gibbs?" William Turner had asked at the time, his brows furrowing as he watched Jack embrace you.

• "Aye." The first mate had nodded in Williams' direction as the two of them watched the pirates, both talking too fast for anyone to keep up with. Not like anyone was ever able to understand them anyway. "Well, not yet at least."

• The upside to coming along the journey to Davy Jones locker was that you got to see Jack again

• The downside was that you almost killed Elizabeth when he revealed she had been the reason for his death

• It took both Tia Dalma and Ragetti to calm you down after that

• "Pull anything like that again blondie—" Your sword was centimeters away from slicing into her neck as you glared at her, gaze filled with fire, "—and I will see to it myself that you stay here and take his place instead."

• "Oooh, I've definitely missed you, love." Jack grinned, twirling a peice of his hair around his finger as he watched you threaten her on his behalf

• "Be quiet, Jack. I'm trying to put the fear of Calypso in her."

[witchthewriter]

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warnings: knife flirting, a bit nsfw but not much

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ISTJ

Gryffindor

Lawful Good

Capricorn Sun, Cancer Moon, Libra Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・You were enemies, you were supposed to be enemies.

・But fate (always) has other plans.

・Your first interaction wasn't the normal law vs outlaw situation

・It was like James couldn't breathe; your eyes, there was something so ... invigorating about them. They drew him in. Words became difficult.

・But when you pulled a weapon, he snapped back into his normal self.

・With his sword pressed against your neck, your smirked and in a flash, twirled and slipped out a hidden dagger. With the sharp knife pressed against his throat, you both subconciously agreed never to hurt one another. Even if you were sworn enemies.

"What's your name?" James said sternly. The height difference made it harder to keep your dagger pressed to his skin.

"Oh, wig, wouldn't you like to know?" And then you lightly bit his ear and disappeared.

・A shiver went down his spine.

・And he hoped no one saw the interaction, because now he was smiling.

・When you were apart, time felt like it was going by too quickly. James was yearning for you, his heart thudding whenever he thought about you.

・After running into each other three separate times, being away from you was too much to bear.

・When you were together, time stopped.

・Eyes looking into eyes. Hands caressing the smallest part of bare skin. Both of you were breathless.

・But you had to keep this from your crew. From the rest of the pirate community.

・If they knew you were together with someone from the law, no one would trust you.

・Your nickname for him is 'wig,' since he always wears that awful powdered white wig. You've told him how terrible it is, but he sees it as another badge for his status.

・Being together means you become more open-minded. You see things from each other's point of views.

・You love the way he becomes so flustered when you whisper in his ear. He always thanks the good god in heaven that he's wearing sleeves because goosebumps erupt as well.

・When he whispered, "I love you," for the first time, you couldn't breathe. This wasn't supposed to go so far. But it did. It has.

・You sat up as thoughts flooded your head.

・Could you ever get married? Would either of you even want to quit your life for the other?

・You looked back at James, who was sprawled in the sheets. His ugly wig discarded, no uniform to be found.

・All you wanted to do was stay in his arms. But your crew could only stay drunk for so long. And you had to get back to them.

・One thing you did know, was that his love would last.

・But your life wasn't ready to change just yet; so you both got dressed, kissed each other goodbye and ... walked away.

・As he had slipped a piece of parchment in your clothes. It read, "forever."

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Literal Angel (James) x Smooth Devil (You)

Soft for exactly one person (You) x Is that one person (James)

"Do you love me or do you love chaos?" (You) x "Yes" (James)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

The true Enemies to Lovers

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈(s)

Wands Into The Earth by James Newton Howard

First Kiss by Howard Shore

You Can't Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo

[ha1taniwh0re]

So you are telling me that Salazar never died?! HE BECAME A FUCKING MERMAID?!!! MY BARBOSSA DIED FOR NOTHING?!

He really wanted that trident

(even the date is the same bruh hahaha)

[socksracoon10]

The Banter of Thieves

Pairing: Jack Sparrow x F!Reader

Jack Sparrow was by no means your friend. He wasn't even an acquaintance. His mere presence irked you, caused you to vomit overboard and wipe the drool that dabbled your chin as you spat out the lovely painting your stomach decided to spew out. The entire Caribbean sea knew better than to mess with you; you were the jewel of the ocean, the only woman to have stood for so long on your feet without ever backing down. Once your crew was outnumbered by the British officers, but you bravely traversed the seas and implied that you had more guts than your opponents. Another instance was when you managed to have stolen an artifact aboard a merchant ship that costed you a good fortune. You were the talk of Tortuga for weeks on end - added to that were rounds of free rum with jealous ladies and ecstatic men surrounding your presence.

So it was of to no surprise that upon hearing your name being tossed around like a ball, Jack Sparrow would've felt a little bit of resentment. Well, not a little - it was a LOT. He was devastated, he was hurt. How could the people trample around singing your name when HE was the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow! THE Captain Jack Sparrow of THE Black Pearl! He couldn't handle it. He just couldn't sit there and watch you swinging your arms around with the other pirates, gleefully cheering on your success. Drink after drink, he noticed the amount of rum you were being passed. Some men forced a glass to you, and though you politely declined, he noticed the way you'd give in after the third persistent person chimed in with a 'please' and there the rum would go down. It would cascade down your neck, around your breasts and find itself sloshed on the ground; Jack hated it. He hated to see the sight of pure, good rum being wasted away like that. 

When you were passed out, slouched against a sturdy chair with the glass still in your hand, Jack had tip-toed to where you sat and stood over your sleeping form. You weren't a hideous creature; he'd seen much worse on his escapades. In his mind, he couldn't fathom to understand how a girl as beautiful and intelligent such as yourself could have the nerve to be a pirate and go against him? Him? Ugh, it made his blood curl at the thought. In any other circumstances, he would've tried to woo you or played some sort of game, but clearly those options were out the window. His eyes cast over to you once again, and he caught onto the tiny sliver of shimmering gold tucked away in your shirt against your bosom. Pursing his lips together, he grabbed a small dagger and carefully used the blade to hook onto the gold's chain; despite being a pirate, he still had SOME manners. Not all of them for a gentlemen, but at least enough so that he wouldn't have to be slapped by the rest of the women on Tortuga. Two was enough for him at the moment. Lifting the chain up into the air, his eyes flickered onto you for a brief moment; you stirred in your sleep, but not too much to indicate that you might be awake. He sighed in relief, holding the chain to the light as his eyes followed the path down to an intricately designed key. He narrowed his eyes at the design pattern, noticing a fresh emblem with the letters "C.D." inscribed. His eyes widened, bringing it closer to him. No, he couldn't believe it. How did she manage to find the key for The Cure of the Dead? Impossible! He pocketed the key, grabbing the glass of rum from her as she whined in her sleep. Chugging it down, he let out a hiss as the liquid flowed down his throat and marched out of the tavern with a new mission set on his mind.

"I'm going to cut off that dirty bastard's prying fingers," You growled, seated firmly in the cabin of your ship; when you had woken up after, you already knew what must've happened when the gold chain was missing and you cursed every God that existed in your mind to help you find Sparrow before he'd get his filthy, grubby hands on what you had desired. The Cure was no simple thing - no, it was not a simple little vial or a chest of wealth - it was much more. There was a certain ritual that was foretold in the legend; the one soul, after giving up four equal drops of blood, would be able to pursue the path of immortality and greatness. Your father had spent ages pillaging and tormenting anyone who proved to be an obstacle just to find the key. And now, under your possession - or well, was under your possession - you were extremely keen on protecting your father's legacy through the key, anxious to seek the glory in honor of your fearless father. At the present moment, that dream was starting to sink faster than a ship caught in a whirlpool thanks to the lovely Captain Jack Sparrow himself.

A few days had passed among the seas and your crew had slowly abandoned your ship, one by one. They knew it was going to be a very tiresome journey, but you should've known better that the slightest inconvenience would have them scuttling away back to their mummies. You cursed at them as they rowed away, swearing to enact your revenge one day if they ever dared to return to your captaincy. Your eyes shifted from them to the large island approaching your ship. You noticed another ship seated on the shore, some crewmen walking about the deck or on the sandy land. Assuming this was Jack's crew, you managed to park your vessel besides them and leaned over the deck to bellow,

"Oi! Is that Gibbs I see there?" 

The old man swiftly turned at the mention of his name, narrowing his eyes at you with a scowl.

"Aye it be, Captain (L/N)," He rolled his eyes, nudging Raggetti whose bulging eyes seemed to seep right through you. Grimacing at the sight of the skeleton-like man, you climbed down onto the beach shore and dug your hands in your pockets.

"Where is that scoundrel?" You snapped, marching forward as a hand rested on the hilt of your sword. Gibbs scoffed, 

"Bit of a strong word to use there, love," He paused for a moment, rubbing his nose before looking at you, "But if you must know, he went through the trees himself."

"Nobody else with him?" 

"Nobody else."

"Well, then, after I acquire what is rightfully man, you all will very much be welcome aboard my ship." You grinned, scanning Jack's crew.

"But we've already got ourself a captain," Raggetti scorned to which you quickly added,

"Not after I'm through with Jack, you won't."

You left the gaping faces behind as you marched into the leafy forest ahead of you. Stepping over a few roots, you noticed a distinct imprint on the mud just a few inches from where you stood; the fool must've slipped and fell on his own face. With a guttural groan, you pushed through and followed the signs among your surroundings, the very same that your father used to tell you. Remembering his tales comforted you immensely, and you wished he was here to see his little girl all grown up and ready to see the treasure he had wished for so long. He would be proud of her, he would've loved her. He would've... surely not expected to see Jack Sparrow stuck between the branches of a tree.

"Jack?" You cocked your head to the side, stepping around the tree to see his face. His features were all scrunched up as he tugged his body to the best of his ability against the branches.

"Those stupid roots!" He exclaimed in a muffled tone. He cried out in exasperation, continuing to tug himself as much as he could before shrieking, "Don't just stand there! Help me!"

You stepped forward, just about ready to push his face out but you caught yourself, hands still in the air as you raised an eyebrow, "Give me the key first, and then I shall help you."

Upon hearing your words, Jack huffed out in annoyance, "Darlin', I think there's something more important here than your stupid key. Help me, first."

"No," You hissed, "You give me the key, and then I'll help you." You extended your arm out, beckoning for him to hand over your prized possession. Jack glared at you, muttering some cursed under his breath; you could've sworn he had said "that insufferable wench" and you scowled at him.

"Listen, love... darling... sweetheart," He groaned between tugs, "If you help me, I swear I'll hand over the key to you."

"You swear? You swear on your ship?" You prodded, and unbeknownst to you, he crossed his fingers behind his back,

"Of course! Of course, my love! N-Now just g-get me out of this stupid mess!" He seethed. You rolled up your sleeves, and placed your palms against his face, beginning to apply pressure.

"Ow... ow, ow, ow, ow, that's my precious face! You're gonna mush my skull in!" Jack screamed, and your blood boiled at his ungratefulness, causing you to begin pushing harder. You tuned out his cries of pain, finally released him from the stockade-like tree, and watched him howl and roll around the dirt. You kicked the side of his body, extending your hand out again for the key. He groaned as he sat up, taking your hand to lift him off the ground.

"You idiot!" You hissed, swatting his hand away, "I want the key!"

Jack blinked a few times, biting the inside of his cheek, "And here I really thought you'd care for me."

Standing back up on his feet, he noticed the way your gaze never faltered on him. He gave a disgusted expression towards you, sauntering off towards the cave opening with a determined mission on his mind. He paused, looking back at you with your open hand for a brief moment, before instantly picking up his pace. Screaming in anger, you charged after him and hopped onto his back, tugging his locks of hair as he shrieked in pain.

"Ow! Ow! Off, off! Look, women aren't meant to pull on my hair unless we're laying in bed together!" Jack hollered.

"I'm a pirate, you oaf, I can do as I please!" You bellowed, tugging harder and steering him away from the cave opening's keyhole. He stumbled backward and stood still for a moment trying to process something in his head,

"You mean to tell me you're not a woman?" He asked in a genuine tone of voice, before gasping loudly, "You deceitful bastard! You mean to tell me you're a filthy bugger impersonating a female?"

"Are you stupid?" You snarled, completely flabbergasted by his words. Not only was he the most aggravating pirate you'd ever met, but currently while on his back, he was definitely the stupidest one you'd ever come across. Jack trudged forward, trying his best to ignore the sharp pain of his hair practically ripping off his scalp as he shoved the key into its designated home. You cried out in frustration, watching the cave slowly open to reveal the circular stage under the beam of light. Upon seeing the glory in front of you, your head poked around his hair and leaned forward, completely in awe of its beauty. 

"You know, you can get off me back now," Jack smirked, turning his head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of you. You shut your gaping mouth and hopped off him, dusting yourself of any of his filth as you walked past him. It was almost a dance in the way you blocked his path towards the light, your back facing him as your foot extended outwards and your body swayed.

"Don't be a child," Jack mumbled, stepping back and forth as he tried to find a way around you.

"Shut up, you don't even understand the value of this discovery. My father had spent ages-" You began before being cut off,

"Oh, the same old wishy-washy, swishy-swashy story. We know the legend, we know the journey (Y/N)," Jack yawned, "Your father was a thief for stealing that from Davy Jones."

"Thief? He was a pirate, if anyone's a thief you're the thief! You stole it from me when I was asleep!" You roared. Jack chuckled at your answer when you turned to face him,

"Pirate," He gestured to himself, with his eyebrows raising in the process, "It's part of the job description. And now you're a thief for wanting to steal what's mine... especially after the hell you just put me through," He moaned, rubbing his scalp, gently.

"It's mine." You hissed.

"No, it's mine," Jack stated, pointing to the circular stage.

"Mine."

"Nope, still mine, darlin'."

"You buffoon! It's mine! I get to be immortal, not you!"

"Eh, I've escaped death more times than you have, it's definitely mine, love."

"MINE!"

"Oi, don't raise your voice at me. My ears are a bit sensitive," Jack raised a finger, "Still mine, though."

"IT'S MINE, JACK!"

"Now you're just actin' like a child, be a lady... if you even are one," He raised an eyebrow with a suspicious look on his face. That was it, you couldn't take this banter any longer. You lunged forward, tackling him onto the stage as his head scraped against the rocky material. He groaned in pain as he thrashed around, rolling over you. Your elbows brazed against the ground under you and you hissed in pain before grabbing onto Jack's neck and dragging him under you.

As the fighting ensued, you both were completely oblivious to the drops of blood that seeped into the cracks beneath you. You tossed a punch at his jaw as he pulled your hair roughly. The opening of the wall behind you two was overshadowed by the insults that were thrown around with the occasional scream tossed into the mix. It wasn't until the light above you shifted towards the treasure chest meters away did the both of you stopped fighting; you lay on top of him, your head snapping towards the direction of the light as he did the same.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Jack asked, frowning.

"I-I don't know. I never really thought I'd get this far." You replied, trying to make out the sudden shift of the light. In an instant, Jack shoved you off him and bolted towards the chest. His fingers wriggled excitedly as he had a playful smirk on his face. He wrapped his hands around the edges of the chest and brought it open, only to find a small sheet of paper with instructions. That was a whole lot of build-up to nothing.

Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed your unconscious form slouched against a stone. He winced at the sight, carefully walking over to you. He must've shoved you too hard against the rocky stone when he flew to the chest. He glanced back down to the instructions in his hand, before looking back up to you. He took a deep sigh, realizing what he had to do.

When you had woken up, you found your head bandaged firmly. You lay on a small hammock as Gibbs stood before you.

"Aye, you aren't too much of a bad shape. It's a lucky thing Jack managed to bring you in like that." Gibbs smiled, his fingers brushing against your head. You rolled your eyes,

"Let me guess. He must've taken the treasure and run off, didn't he? He must have immortality and the greatest glory to ever exist." You seethed, crossing your arms.

"What? No. Lassie, he left you a little note before venturing off on his own to Tortuga. He's entrusted you to be Captain of the ship for the time being." Gibbs exclaimed, holding a note for you to see, "There's more to this whole shenanigan than just immortality. Apparently both your bloods were combined at the cave... meaning you both are one soul. He's gone off to search for more clues. In the meantime he wants you to rest. He seemed rather worried when we were fixing you up, and kept asking questions as to if you'd be alright or not."

Your mouth slightly parted at Gibbs' words, completely in disbelief. "He was probably making sure I was alright to ensure he'd get his share of the treasure."

"Oh, it was more than that, love," Gibbs winked at you, "I'm sure of it. I've never seen Jack like that around any other woman. Now, enough with me rambling, get your rest. You'll be having lots of more adventures with Jack Sparrow soon."

And with that, he left you with the note and you couldn't help but somehow feel your mind slowly consider Jack Sparrow as more than a thief, more than an acquaintance... and certainly more than a friend.

[floorbe]

“Straying Eyes” [Hector Barbossa x Fem!Reader]

**Commission for @jesseapples !**

Warnings: phonetic spelling of accents, p in v s/x, possessive behavior / language, hints of soft Barbossa, men hit on reader in a pub but not for long

Summary: When you and the rest of the Black Pearl’s crew finally docked in Tortuga, you hoped for a night of celebration in the pubs— of course, things never quite go to plan, do they?

Or;

Drunken men hit on you in a pub and Barbossa gets jealous.

Pairings: Hector Barbossa/fem!Reader

A/N: gods this dialect was hard to pin down, so so fun to work on tho omg

Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean

Word count: ~5.3k

~

As much as you loved the sea, and you did love it, you were excited to stand on solid ground that didn’t shift and shudder beneath your feet with every wave. As sturdy as the Black Pearl was, you couldn’t help how the creaks and groans of the wood at night reminded you that you really were at the sea’s will. 

This fact popped into your head once more as you hopped easily off the boarding plank and onto the pier below. Despite the disorienting feeling of walking on steady ground again instead of the familiar pull and weave of the ship, the earthy (and alcoholic) scent steadied you. You stretched your arms over your head, cracking your back with a grunt as you felt your muscles stretch. 

Before you could take a step forward there was a familiar warmth pressed against your lower back. You let out a curious hum, tilting your head back to meet your partner’s gaze. Barbossa’s cool blue eyes met yours with a smug cock of his eyebrow. His fingers tapped a rhythm on your lower back before settling on your hip, tugging you into his side. 

“Attached already?” you teased quietly, nudging his side with your hip, “We’ve barely docked, Cap’n.” 

He scoffed beside your ear, rolling his eyes with a scowl you knew was just for show by the way his hand squeezed your hip with faux warning. “Be it a crime now to lay claim in what’s mine?” he asked. His voice dropped an octave as he leaned a bit closer to rumble sarcastically, “Forgive me if I’ve… concerns about the ingrates that swarm the bars of Tortuga.”

You opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out, cheeks warming at the reminder. “...Maybe,” you retorted lamely after a moment, clearing your throat. 

He hummed, tapping his fingers on your hip once more before drawling, “Well, what’s another crime added to our list, hm?” 

You groaned playfully, turning away from his faux curious gaze. His breath puffed against your neck as he laughed at your demeanor, pulling away only to lead you alongside him as the rest of the crew crowded past you, scattering through the streets of Tortuga. 

You let yourself be dragged towards your usual pub, slipping inside the rowdy bar with ease. The familiar warmth of Barbossa’s hand on your hip faded as you both weaved through the crowd, ducking beneath potted plants being thrown and beer spillage. It was easy for you after all of these years, the pub becoming like a second home (ship?) away from home with how often you all stopped there. The musicians played a hearty tune as you spun through the sea of people, eyes scanning any available seats. 

As you slipped into an unoccupied bar seat you felt a familiar presence looming over your shoulder. You glanced to the side to find Barbossa leant comfortably on the stool beside you, scanning over the crowd with an elbow twisted to rest on the bartop behind him. He briefly met your gaze, raising his brows in acknowledgement before turning back to the crowd. You watched as Jack, the little monkey that had grown quite fond of you, scittered down his arm to the counter before grappling onto your shoulder. 

“Hi, Jack,” you cooed, reaching a finger up to scratch behind his fuzzy ear. He let out a trill of contentment, butting into your finger encouragingly as you relayed your order to the bartender. The presence was one you were all too familiar with by now; Barbossa often had Jack “watch over” you when he couldn’t be around to do it himself. 

It was sweet really, how protective Barbossa was over you when he claimed to be otherwise. It was also, admittedly, a bit annoying how often he seemed to swoop in whenever you were faced with the tiniest bit of danger. Even now you remembered how, when you two had first started seeing each other, he would shove you out of the skirmishes on deck in favor of banishing you to his cabin. Despite how furious you always were at the end, he ended up brushing off your complaints with a sneering reminder of who was Captain. 

It had taken you a long while to see through his cold demeanor and realize it wasn’t that he thought you couldn’t take care of yourself, rather that he hadn’t wanted to risk anything happening to you. It was a startling yet sweet realization, one festered with his taunts of how “there be a reason naught but few ladies on these seas”. It was bullshit, of course, an insult to keep you at arms length from his feelings. 

Still, the concern from him was… touching. You rarely saw the softer side of Barbossa, even when concealed with his snark, and any reminder of it left your heart clenching in affection for the man. You supposed Jack was proof of that, regardless, though– your furry friend only ever left your shoulder to perch on Barbossa’s. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts as a mug was placed in front of you, the bartender already whirling around to serve another patron. You took a big gulp of the drink, nose scrunching up at the burn that followed. You suppressed a cough, favoring swirling in your barstool to survey the bar once again. Your gaze flitted through the crowd, searching for any familiar figure. 

You barely made out one of your crew, Ragetti, trying in vain to grasp his wooden eye that you assumed was rolling on the floor. You snickered into your mug, taking another gulp as you appreciated the view of Ragetti’s frantic crawling and weaving through the crowd’s legs. The blasting bar music muted whatever he was trying to yell, and you huffed out a laugh when someone ended up tripping on the eye, setting their angry sights on Ragetti as the culprit. 

Before you could witness what was certainly most entertaining fight of the night, you felt Jack’s tiny claws sink into the cloth of your shirt with a quiet chirp. You furrowed your brows, tilting your head to see whatever had caught his attention. Before you could turn fully, you felt a weight snake around your waist from your side. Assuming it to be Barbossa, you swiveled in your seat with a growing smile. 

It immediately faded into a scowl when you didn’t recognize the patron. His eyes were hazy, already way too drunk to be in the bar, a sleazy grin on his face that you were sure he thought was sexy. You cringed, leaning away from him with a roll of your eyes, “Not interested.” 

“H-hey gor-rgeous,” he slurred out, batting his eyes. He either hadn’t heard you, or… didn’t care. Either way, it made your frustration spike. 

“Take y’er hand from my hip or you’ll be losin’ it,” you growled, shoving his chest. Jack screeched in what you assumed was agreement, quickly clawing at the man’s face for emphasis. Too drunk, Jack’s claws easily met with the man’s cheek, blood already clotting from the scratch. 

“Y-ye fuckin’ rat!” the man shouted in surprise, stumbling backwards. In the time you’d taken to reject this man, another had saddled up on the other side of you, his smooth voice booming in your ear uncomfortably. 

“The lady said nay,” the new man scoffed, wrapping an arm around your waist. You cocked an eyebrow in disbelief at the bold move, turning to see the, slightly less, drunk man who took it upon himself to “save” you. “Ye okay, lass?” he asked with a crooked grin, sending a wink towards you before continuing, “I can keep y’a company, lass. Keep these scoundrels away.” 

“Nay, she won’t be needin’ the likes of you to assist her,” another voice growled, one that sent a flutter through your chest. Jack screeched in greeting, scampering off of your shoulder to race up the inky black sleeve of your beloved. 

“An’ who are you to speak for th’ lady?” the man scoffed, tightening his grip around your waist. You’d forgotten his arm was still around you, scrunching your nose in disgust as you made eye contact with Barbossa. The corner of his lip curled up into a scowl you’d seen far too often, his hand instinctively snaking down to his holster. 

“Her lover,” he ground out with a snarl of his lips, eyes narrowing dangerously. In a flash, Barbossa’s gun was pressed to the man’s jaw, prodding uncomfortably as he toyed with the trigger. “Whaddya think, Jack?” he taunted, tilting his head to the monkey, who chittered in response. A sick grin grew on his face at the supposed response, cocking the barrel with a practiced thumb, “Aye, you be right, Jack. He be worthless.” 

Within seconds the man’s arm was jerking away from your waist, palms raising up in surrender. You watched the man gulp, trembling as Barbossa leant in closer to him. Your chest squeezed once again at the display. Another reminder of his care for you. …Even if he was about to shoot someone in a bar. 

“Cap’n,” you tried, raising a hand to rest it on his forearm. His eyes flit to yours briefly, raking down your form to check for anything that might’ve happened. His thumb didn’t relax until you stepped closer, squeezing his arm with a silent reassurance. You were fine. 

His scowl deepened momentarily, and with a flourished spin his gun was back in his holster. Jack let out a whine that you swore sounded disappointed as the man stumbled back. “I’d advise y’e keep y’er hands to yourself, boy,” Barbossa hissed, watching intently as the man scrambled away, “Lest ye lose ‘em to a man far crueler than I.” 

Before you could process what had happened, Barbossa’s arm was curled tight around your waist, fingers digging into your hip almost painfully. Within moments you were dragged out of your own seat, hands scrambling for purchase on his sleeve. Your feet bent awkwardly as he pulled you onto his lap, his arm steady around you. 

Your back hit the solid warmth of his chest, thighs slotting between his as you shifted to get more comfortable. His chin settled on your shoulder, and when you felt his warm breath puff against your cheek, you instinctively leaned your head against his. You huffed softly, leaning back into his embrace as your brows furrowed in annoyance. 

“Thank y’e,” you mumbled, reaching out to grab your mug of rum for a sip, “Gods forbid I spend more than a few minutes alone lest the dogs swarm.” 

He hummed in your ear, his arm shifting around you more securely, “Dogs be a lackluster term for the vermin here.” 

“An’ what would you choose?”

“Feckless ingrates, horned mutts, cockroaches–” 

“Aye, aye,” you laughed, leaning back into his chest and earning a huff of laughter against your cheek, “Well, it be not our problem now–” you were cut off by him suddenly shifting beneath you, raising you both up from the seat. 

You felt yourself being tugged away from the bar, eliciting a surprised exclamation and a final gulp from your mug. “Hector,” you whined in his ear, squirming in his hold, “I didn’t even get to get tipsy–” 

“I’ve rum in my cabin,” he muttered, not relieving his grip on your hip.

“The crew–?”

“Will find their way back,” he shot you a sharp glance, squeezing your hip lightly as he dragged you out of the bar. 

You groaned in frustration, struggling to hold back the amused grin trying to worm onto your face. “Is that how ye thank y’er savior?” he mocked, rolling his eyes as he shoves open the pub’s doors.

“Thank you,” you retorted sarcastically. Despite your tone, you readily leaned into his side as he weaved through the alleyways of Tortuga. He huffed in response, and you’re sure that if you’d seen his face he would be rolling his eyes once again. He was silent the rest of the short trip. Silence wasn’t unusual for you two; many nights you two spent in his cabin silent, him charting his maps and you milling around with his trinkets or reading.

You admired the stars above as he led you back to the boarding plank, wood creaking beneath your boots. You hopped onto the ship easily, noting the way Barbossa’s hand slid from his ironclad grip on your hip to resting firmly on your lower back. You resisted a shiver at the feeling, biting the inside of your lip as he guided you to his cabin. 

“Were I a dumber man,” he started finally, kicking his door behind him shut, “I’d say y’e enjoyed that little show.” 

“Enjoyed?” you scoffed, sending a grin over your shoulder, “Sure, if you call me getting two sips of my rum enjoyable–” 

You were cut off by his hand snaking down to grip your ass, squeezing one cheek between his nimble fingers. A startled noise was ripped from your mouth, back arching instinctively to flinch away from his hand. “What was it you were sayin’?” he taunted, his other hand raising to trace his nail along your jawline. 

You scowled at the action, twisting your head to angle a half-hearted glare at him, “I said,” you repeated, a pout gracing your lips as his hands left your form, reaching for his own stash of alcohol, “I only got two sips of my rum before you interrupted me.” 

“I interrupted you?” he guffawed with an obvious roll of his eyes as he poured you a replacement mug of rum, “An’ I suppose we’ll just be ignorin’ the attention you got, then?” 

“Aye,” you tutted, crossing your arms defiantly, “We will be.”

“Ah,” he gave you a thin smile as he placed the rum in front of you, “So, am I right t’be assumin’ you liked the attention y’got?” 

“You know I didn’t,” you shot back, snatching the cup from in front of you to bring to your lips, “I just want one night where I’m not dragged out by the end of the first hour.” 

“Be it my fault those ingrates–?” 

“No,” you groan frustratedly, “But do we have to leave the second it happens?” 

“Well, apologies for not enjoyin’ the way those boys were tryin’ to take what’s mine.” 

“Why d’you care, Hector? You know I be yours,” you sighed again, rapping your foot on the wooden floor quietly. 

“Aye, you are, and it seems y’e need a reminder of it,” he rumbled, taking your chin between his fingers, forcing your eyes to meet his. You met his icy gaze, resisting a shudder at how intensely he inspected your features, as if trying to commit them to memory. He thumbed gently at your bottom lip, almost tender in the way it traced over every curve and dip. His gaze trailed over your features, his own softening slightly, only enough for you to notice how his brows unfurrowed the tiniest bit, how his nigh permanent scowl seemed to quirk up into something almost affectionate. 

You swallowed hard, heat blooming in your cheeks at how vulnerable you felt under his eyes. When you tried to glance away, feeling embarrassed at the attention, you only heard him tut quietly, similar to a sound he makes when scolding Jack. 

“Shy?” he asked, the corner of his lip raising to reveal a crooked smirk.

“...Nay. Hard to concentrate when y’er looking at me like that,” you mumbled, scrunching your nose in defiance at his taunt. 

He hummed in response, using his grip on your chin to turn your eyes back to him, “An’ how else should I be lookin’ at y’e?”

The question made you falter, combing through your mind for any sort of smart retort. It seemed you took a moment too long, for you heard Barbossa’s chuckle as his thumb climbed up your lip and prodded at the seam. Obediently, you allowed his thumb into your mouth, dropping your jaw agape. 

“Cat got y’er tongue, lass?” he continued, emphasizing his words by pressing the pad of his thumb down on your tongue with an amused chuckle. You closed your lips around his thumb, nipping the flesh playfully. 

Barbossa’s eyebrow cocked, slipping his thumb out of your mouth with a scowl (one that you knew was teasing from the softened curves of his expression) before rolling his eyes, “Charmin’. No wonder I’ve competition for y’er affections.”

“Aye, I’m a catch,” you grinned up at him, placing your rum aside as he drew closer. 

“Aye, and y’er mine,” he growled out, eyes crinkling as he grinned crookedly down at you. 

You couldn’t stop the shudder that ripped through you even if you’d tried, swallowing hard at the sudden warmth pooling in your abdomen. Fuck, sure he’d said similar before, but never this direct. He seemed to notice your sudden flustering, for he chuckled before tugging you up out of the chair. 

“Ah, hit a nerve, love?” he nearly purred, his free arm snaking around your waist. 

“...Nay,” you lied, feigning nonchalance. You could practically feel your clit swelling, each throb making your mind fuzzier. His hand squeezed your hip before tugging you closer, pressing your hips flush to his. You were just barely able to suppress the gasp that threatened to slip from your lips. 

“Ah, so if I were to…” he released your chin, instead sliding his hand down the side of your torso, tracing each curve before halting just above the waistband of your pants. 

“Go ahead,” you breathed out, swallowing hard. You could feel the lips of your cunt already sticking to your underwear, clinging to the fabric as his hand dipped beneath your bottoms. 

You shivered as the pads of his fingers traced over your folds over the underwear, tutting teasingly, “Y’wouldn’t happen to be lying, would y’e?” he murmured, pressing a finger down on your clit, just weighted enough to make you gasp. 

Encouraged by your response, he let his finger circle your clit through your underwear, applying the slightest bit more pressure. Your knees weakened at the sudden pleasure, clasping onto his sleeve to keep steady. “U-unfair, Hector–”

He cut your complaint off with a laugh, crowding closer to you to guide you back to the bed, “Unfair that I know y’er body better than those slobberin’ mutts?” 

“Aye,” you pouted, allowing him to back you up onto the bed. 

“Best hope I be feelin’ merciful today, then,” he retorted, eyes glinting in the dim lighting as he climbed on top of you, “Though, somehow, I think that be not the case…” 

A snarky reply made home on the tip of your tongue, furrowed brows accompanying the playful scowl that curled your lips. Before you could bite back at him his hand was finally slipping underneath your underwear, calloused fingers dipping through your folds. You shuddered at the feeling, hips bucking up when his thumb joined in by pressing down on your clit. 

You gasped out a moan, leaving your cheeks feeling warmer at the sudden noise. Barbossa’s chuckling was not helping your flustered state, and neither was the way his middle finger circled your hole teasingly. You swallowed down another soft moan as the tip of his finger just barely dipped into you, swirling around as if collecting your slick. 

“What was it y’e were sayin’, lass?” he laughed breathily, sliding his finger up to swirl your wetness against your clit before pinching it lightly. He grinned as your hips twitched, a noise mixed with pain and pleasure jetting from your lips. You bit your lower lip instead of responding, knowing him well enough by now to know he would just do it again if you tried. 

You felt his hand slip out of your underwear, leaving a trail of wet as he glided up your abdomen. You watched with interest as he raised his hand to his mouth, only to gawk when he popped his middle finger into his mouth. “Y-you…” you sputtered, still reeling from the sudden rush of arousal that shot through you at the sight. Your body burned, a deep throb reminding you of how empty you felt without him in you. Gods, was it really this easy to rile you up? You would be embarrassed if he didn’t look so fucking hot doing it. 

“Better than apples,” he teased after a moment, licking his lips as if to collect any leftover fluid. He looked over your expression with obvious amusement, eyes crinkling in a silent laugh as he leaned closer to you, “Want a taste, love?” 

You found yourself nodding before you even processed his offer, body buzzing in need of any sort of relief, any sort of touch from him. Your hand found the nape of his neck, dragging him down to meet you.

His lips met yours in a passion, his tongue immediately licking the seam of your lips. You bit his lower lip teasingly, refusing his tongue entry into your mouth. You vaguely felt his hand reach up to cup your chin, keeping you in place as his other hand dipped beneath your underwear once again. This time, his finger had no problem slipping into your dripping entrance, eliciting a gasp from you. 

Barbossa used the startling to lick into your mouth, slipping his tongue against yours and exploring the familiar grooves of you. You moaned softly as he slowly added another finger, sinking them deeper at a painfully gradual pace as you squirmed beneath him. 

Your tongue tangled with his eagerly, pressing closer to him as you faintly tasted your juices on his tongue still. He seemed pleased by the reaction, for he let out a low groan and quickly sped up his fingers, curling up into that perfect spot that made your hips jerk. His mouth quickly moved from your mouth to trail down to the column of your throat, nipping at the skin before suckling harshly on the sensitive area. You tipped your head to the side, encouraging the marking as you grinded down onto his fingers. 

“Needy,” he growled against your neck before letting his thumb join below and rub circles on your sticky clit. “Still pissy we left early?” he continued, pairing it with a third finger sliding into you, spreading out to stretch your hole.

Even his fingers inside of your aching hole weren’t enough to sate the deep emptiness you felt in your core, even if you felt your orgasm coming along quite quickly because of them. Nothing compared to feeling his thick cock splitting you open, throbbing inside of you as his arms caged you in… Fuck, the thought was enough to send you to the edge as is. 

The feeling of Barbossa’s fingers sliding out of you snapped you back to attention, an irritated groan leaving your lips as you shot him a weak glare. Your cunt ached at the emptiness, walls clenching around nothing. “N-no,” you answered finally as he cocked a brow at you. 

He hummed in mock thought, using his now free hands to rumple up your shirt, rolling it easily over your head. “An’, remind me, love,” he started, voice in almost a coo as his fingers found your puffy nipples, rolling them over with his thumbs, “Why is it that we left?” 

You shuddered at the new stimulation, back arching slightly to encourage the action, “Th-there were men–”

“Cretins,” he corrected swiftly with a pinch to one of your nipples. 

“C-cretins,” you repeated, body shuddering as he crowded more into your space, spreading your legs with his knees as he knelt above you, “And you be jealous.” 

Despite the technically correct answer, his lips curled back into a scowl with a roll of his eyes, “You might want’a be rephrasin’ that, lass.”

“An’ how would I rephrase it, Cap’n?” you retorted. He scoffed before shifting closer, hooking your knees over his thighs as he leant over you. You felt his hips slot against yours, his already hardened cock rubbing deliciously against your clothed clit. 

“That I was almost plundered,” he growled, rutting his hips against yours with a low groan. His hardened cock rubbed against your clit, making you gasp as your hips instinctively moved in tandem to meet his. 

“Pl-plundered? What, am I an object?” you bit back, though the breathy tone in your voice left the edge weak. 

“What be mine was almost taken from me,” he rumbled, hips rolling perfectly against yours as his hands eagerly groped your breasts. His eyes were locked onto yours, glinting in what you could only describe as a predatory fashion. He continued breathlessly as he leant closer, “Be that not plundering?” 

Your hips jerked at the statement, eyes fluttering closed briefly as your poor pussy clenched around nothing. 

“Aye, that be what I thought,” he chuckled, interrupting your protests with another hump of his hips. 

“H-Hector,” you gasped out, shooting him a weak glare, “Stop teasin’-”

He tsked, halting the movement of his hips to give you a cocky grin, “Nay, I think there be a better way to ask, don’t you?” 

You let out an indignant groan, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. The sudden lack of friction was making your head fuzzy; you tried to grind your hips again instinctively. Barbossa’s hands were gripping your hips almost immediately, stilling any movement you hoped to make. He tilted his head, pouting teasingly down at you as if he wasn’t the one contributing to your frustration. You could feel his bulge grazing lightly against your soaked folds, crumbling any resolve you may have had to be defiant for him. 

“Yours, I’m yours, now please–”

“Y’can do better than that, lass,” his hand slid over to lightly circle your clit through your bottoms, putting just enough pressure to make you squirm underneath him, seeking more friction than the almost painfully light touches. Heat rushed through your body, throbbing deliciously and making your mind spin. 

“Need you to fuck me,” you finally gasped out, clutching onto the ruffles of his shirt as your hips strained against his hold, “I feel so empty, please, need you inside me–” 

Barbossa growled at your words, moving to grip your bottoms. He yanked them off in one go, revealing your drippy folds to his eyes. You matched his energy easily, unbuckling his belt and dragging his pants down to reveal his aching cock. You wasted no time taking it into your hand; it was heavy and hot, and as you gave it a shallow pump you swore you already saw a bead of precum dribbling out of his tip. 

It seemed Barbossa was just as eager, for within moments his cock was prodding at your pudgy clit, hips jerking to rub against it. You shuddered at the feeling, whining with a kick of your hips and eliciting another chuckle from Barbossa as he finally, finally, edged his tip into your fluttering hole. 

Your eyes rolled back as he slowly sank into you, caging you with his arms as his cock bullied its way into you, splitting you deliciously open. “I’d say y’e were thrown overboard with how wet you be,” he mumbled, a low groan underlining his words as he pressed his forehead against yours.

The comment sent a snort of laughter through you; true as it was, here he was, cock stretching you open, and he compared you to a traitor thrown overboard. “Romantic, Cap’n,” you retorted playfully, squeezing your cunt around his cock for emphasis. You caught his familiar eye roll before you squeezed, making him groan and jerk his hips. 

The sharp riposte poised on his tongue died as you squeezed around him again, forcing a low moan from his lips as his form shuddered above you. Instead of replying, he set a slow but deep pace, hips slotting against yours.

A choked moan left your lips as you felt his balls slap against the backs of your thighs, his elbows dipped on either side of your head. One of his hands reached down to pinch your clit once more, grinning at the whine you let out. You could feel his cock throbbing and twitching inside of your cunt, eager to feel you contract around him once more. 

Truly, nothing compared to how Barbossa would fuck you. His mouth circled your nipple, suckling it as his pace quickened with each clamp of your walls. You could feel your orgasm rapidly building already, mind already too hazy to care about how wanton your cries were coming out. 

It was, of course, right when you were about to tip over the edge that he halted. You let out a petulant groan, tossing your head back in frustration of being denied your pleasure again. Barbossa was merciful with your pleasure, usually, but it seemed tonight those vagrants at the bar had gotten to him. 

“Who d’you belong to, lass?” he rumbled against your collar, nipping at the heated skin, “And choose your words carefully, lest I find myself less… generous to y’er plight.” 

“Y-yours, you know that,” you gasped out, a whine underlining your tone as you felt his cock throb inside of you, “The men in the bar meant nothing, Hector. Nary do they compare to you.”

“Aye,” he growled, resuming his pace with a newfound passion, “That be true. None can make y’e cum as hard as me, isn’t that right?” 

You moaned out his name, nodding emphatically as you wrapped your arms around his neck, locking your ankles behind his back and pushing him deeper. 

“Aye, only my hands do this to y’e, my words, mine,” he moaned, pressing his forehead against the crook of your neck. You could feel as his hips began to stutter, the gasping breaths that puffed against your neck another telltale sign that he was close. 

“Fuck, aye, only you, Hector-!” your head tipped back as his thumb suddenly found your clit again, rubbing in deep circles as you toppled over the edge. You came hard, squeezing your walls around his cock to the point where you could hear an almost pained hiss come from behind his teeth. You didn’t have time to question it before he was trembling, hips stilling with a deep thrust before he finished inside of you. 

Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of his cum spilling deep inside of you, each jerk of his hips making sure that none went to waste. Your ankles tightened around his hips, pulling him closer, deeper as your cunt milked his cock dry. All you heard for now was the heavy breaths of you two, followed by a creaky groan as he slowly sat up, slipping his softening cock out of you. 

You shivered at the feeling, squirming a bit underneath him at the sudden emptiness. He chuckled, hands resting on your thighs before one traveled down to slide through your folds. The overstimulation made you whine, though it quickly turned into a gasp as he pushed a finger back inside of your still fluttering hole, grinning down at you. 

“Waste not,” he drawled before chuckling, eyeing the way your combined fluids molded around his finger. 

“Tryin’ to knock me up, Captain?” you teased breathlessly as he climbed over you to rest beside you. 

“And if I am?” he rumbled, tossing an arm over your middle and dragging you against his side, “A swollen belly will keep filthy dogs away from y’e.”

“...You want to raise a babe on the seas?” you retorted with a raise of your brow, grinning. You couldn’t deny the flutter your heart gave at the thought of being, well, domestic with him, though your lives were far too hectic for that. 

“...Aye, y’have a point,” he grumbled, pressing his nose into the side of your head, “I’ll just have y’e on my lap at all times, then. No mistakin’ there.” 

You huffed out a laugh, already feeling your head drift off into a comfortable sleep, turning over to press your nose against his collar, “...Aye, more than fine by me.” 

[jellybear455]

My love will never die - Jack Sparrow x reader

Summary: Jack trades you for his life. He promises to be there when your ten year sentence is up.

Warnings: Jack is not the good guy here, friends. Rough treatment of reader, unrequited love, heartbreak, angst, a singular swear.

Inspired by Davy Jones by Fia Orädd

I'm considering making this inspired by a song thing a series. I really enjoy doing it. Anyway I hope you enjoy this delicious crunchy angst.

---

"Don't let them take me! Please, please!" I screamed and cried and kicked and punched, struggling to escape the iron grips of the men on either side of me. "God, please! Jack!"

Jack stood on the dock, his back to the shore and hands in his pockets. He did not flinch as my hands were bound in thick iron chains. He did not blink when I screamed at him to take me home, please just get me out of here.

A hand clamped over my mouth, and without thinking, I sunk my teeth into the calloused flesh. The man yelled, withdrawing his hand and slapping me across the face with it. His blood dripped down my cheek, mixing with my tears.

"You bitch!" He screeched. Wiping his hand on his shirt.

"Just let me say goodbye," I sobbed. "I won't run, I won't run I promise..."

The other man snapped shackles on the ankles and gave them a tug. "What ever, sweetheart. But if you so much as look in the wrong direction I'll-"

I didn't stick around to hear the rest. I half ran, half waddled down the dock and threw myself into the arms of my lover, sobbing into his shoulder. "Don't let them take me." I begged.

"I have to. I will be here when you get back." Jack's voice was smooth and calm, like it always was. Usually it was reassuring, but now I was unnerving.

"Aren't you afraid, Jack?" I cried. "Aren't you sad that I'm going away?"

His hands rested against my hips casually. "Of course, darling. But I must not let myself feel it, because I won't be able to let you leave if I do."

"Don't let me leave, Jack, take me home... take me home." I croaked, voice hoarse from screaming. I could hear one of the men stomping up the dock behind me, and I grasped his shirt desperately. "Kiss me, Jack. Please." "No." He replied, firmly and sharply.

"Jack-" The man grabbed my arm painfully. "No, no no, Jack... Jack, please just kiss me one more time."

Jack could not look in my eyes. "Take her away."

"NO!" I screamed and screamed as I was dragged up the dock again. I screamed until after I had been locked away below deck, and I no longer could see the dock out the small window. Then I cried until my eyes were red and I could nor cry anymore.

---

Ten years. That was the time I had to serve aboard the ship. Jack had said the wrong thing to the wrong guy. The price he had to play was me. Ten years of my hard labour, or they would take his life.

It was not a hard decision. I would have cut out my own heart for Jack. But I did not think I could survive ten years without him close.

I had been at sea for nine years, eleven months and thirteen days, and finally- finally- we had docked. I was home. Home to Jack. I ran down the dock, and this time I was not shackled. I ran until my bare feet hit pavement, then stopped. Jack was not here.

More slowly this time, I ventured back up the dock, looking more closely at the fisherman nearby. None of them were Jack. He told me he'd wait for me.

Tears filled my eyes as I remember Jack, my Jack. Who could never truly show how he felt, not even to me. Who could never tell me he loved me for fear that I would leave. I didn't need him to say it, though. I knew that he loved me. He never said it words, but he showed it in actions. The way he would glare at any other men who glanced my way. How he would take away my bottle of rum when I had had too much. How he would leave food on the desk in his cabin when I slept in.

He loved me. So why wasn't he here now? Maybe he was late. Jack was always late. But he always showed. Mostly. I concentrate on my list of things Jack does to show he loves me, but the more I think about it the more I see.

He would glare at the men that glanced at me when I wasn't looking, but then he would spent half the night staring at another woman's breasts. He would take my rum when I got to tipsy, but then would down the bottle himself and leave me to stumble across the deck into his cabin. He would leave food aside if I was still sleeping when he ate, but would yell that he was looking forward to having it as his lunch.

Jack didn't love me. He never did. I just made myself believe he did. He let me believe he did. I think back to the day they took me. Jack told me he hated to see me go. But he wouldn't kiss me. He did not mourn. I had spent the last ten years pining over a man who couldn't think twice about my feelings.

A dull, throbbing pain pulsed through my chest, and an unsettling rage nestled in my gut. I would make him pay for what he had done. The time he had taken from me.

I once would have cut out my own heart for Jack, but I did not have to. He had torn it to shreds.

---

[black--cherryy]

Pirates of the caribbean Reactions

☁️ Fluff ☁️

—

Jack smirking cuz u look so adorable and small trying to sound serious before u leave to go on land.

Him realizing that u won't see each other for 10 years and u leaving with tears in ur eyes.

U wanted to hear the truth about his feelings towards u so he proved it while the two of u were alone.

Jack caught him staring at u and yelled it through the whole ship making him pretty uncomfortable and embarrassed.

Him smiling at u for the last time before u leave to go with Jacks crew on the sea.

U brought Jacks compass that beckett desired so much and he smirked at how faithful u are.

U injured ur leg really badly while walking to the fountain of youth and couldn't walk further so Philip offered to help u.

[whirlybirbs]

100% support the slutty norrington one off <3

WINE-EYED  ;  j.n.

summary: you loved him once. set during potc:dmc.

pairing: james norrington x f!reader

tags: unrequited love, angst, comfort, a dash of injury and worry, flashbacks to port royal & powdered wigs, a nice dock makeout scene

a/n: bro idk. bro IDK. had some pirate thoughts and then this 3.6k mess happened.

"You always did love her."

Those words, raw and cold from your lips, feel like salt in a wound — as stinging as the sea whipping James Norrington’s sun-split cheeks. The warmth of the setting sun does little to melt your icy disposition, and the ex-Commodore’s well-stoked and unbridled self-loathing rears once more.

He deserves that.

It’s evening, now. Most of the crew has settled below deck for well-earned rest and picking over supper — and you’re here, avoiding the raucous company in lieu of this. Quiet. Peace.

It’s not something you’ve had for weeks now, following Lizzy around the sea in chase of wandering loves and willful compasses and some still-beating heart in a long, lost chest.

She’s with Jack, now — chatting quietly in the evening air as they continue to plot a course by the stern. Far enough away that they’re in their own little world, as muddled and confusing as that thing between them is. Far enough away that James can stare, and wonder, and reminisce in heartwrenching loneliness.

At the sound of your voice, his head snaps forward along the horizon. He stiffens. James leans on the port banister and exhales.

“Have you come to mock me, then?” he replies in that same smooth voice you’d loved long ago — but it’s bitter and harsh, like the sting of an expensive whiskey.

You lean against the mass and cross your arms. The Eastern wind is cool — but it carries the edge of a coming storm. Give it two or three days, you reckon.

You cross your arms over your chest, and the barrel of your long rifle sways against your back. It’s cool through the thin cotton of your billowed blouse.

Your eyes slip coolly across his posture. The tumble of dark, salt-curled strands are pulled loosely into a blue ribbon. He doesn’t turn to face you, and instead turns his eyes to the honeyed-rose sunset dwindling along the horizon.

You deserve that.

You push off the mast and swagger forward. You come to rest beside him, and plant your calloused palms on the weathered wood of the Pearl’s railing.

“Pray, how is that mockery?” you say lightly, though your tone is sharp. Confident. Sure as the setting sun, “It is but the God’s honest truth.”

For the first time since he’s come aboard, he turns his head and looks at you then — truly looks at you.

James realizes then that you are not the woman he once knew in Port Royal.

There’s a new scar on your cheek. Your hair is different — styled in a more practical sense than perfectly placed like he remembers. You lack ribbons and rouge and petticoats. You’ve dawned trousers and boots and belts and sashes.

The only thing he recognizes is that rifle on your back.

You always were an impressive shot.

Though sport was rare on the island of Port Royal, your reputation followed you from England. Your father, the Governor’s Treasurer, took every chance he could to boast about his daughter’s accomplishments. James remembers many a dinner where you sat, as soft and doe-eyed and girlish as could be, and sported a bashful smile at the praise.

You were different from Elizabeth.

You always had been.

While Elizabeth had been infallible — high, and unattainable on a pedestal he’s half-aware he built himself — you had been present and interested and kind. It was clear you held a spot in your heart from the Commodore, even then. Even when he was intent on having Lizzy’s hand. Even when his attention was always wrung from conversation by her approach.

Even when he left, heartbroken and intent on chasing pirates.

You can feel his eyes on you.

His words are slow and very serious. “I’m not in the mood for jests, my lady.”

The jab doesn’t land. You continue on, unbothered.

“There was a time I would do anything for you to look at me like that, you know,” comes your easy reply as you move to crawl atop the cannon to your right. You perch yourself with ease. There’s a moment of silence that settles between you and James feels an uneasy itch crawl into his heart, “God, I would have thrown myself from the Fort’s cliffs, even.”

You never admitted your feelings for him.

Not before now.

He knew, God, of course, he did. Of course.

But, he’d been blind, then. Ignorant to the devotion of one woman, eagerly chasing the untouchable affection of another.

Finally, you look at him, and he feels like it’s ten years past again — and you’re chatting in a quiet room at a boisterous dinner party over the ethics and intricacies of Queen Anne’s privateering laws. He remembers the candlelight and the companionship and the comfort.

You were friends, once.

Your voice is quiet, carried away by the wind. You watch him, albeit distantly.

“Now look at us.”

Two tired souls, each as lost as the other.

With a flick, your gaze finds his. James’ eyes are the color of sea glass — they search yours for a moment before his jaw tenses and he drops his gaze to the water.

He’s quiet for a while, and so are you. For now, it’s just the calm swell of the sea. The sun has all but extinguished now, and the stars are creeping up over your back.

His voice is softer now.

“I doubt an apology would mend much of anything.”

You screw your face uptight. You move to pull your knees up. You’re quick to placate the assumption with a dry laugh. “I didn’t come up here seeking an apology—”

James straightens his posture and turns, fully allowing you to occupy his attention. “Then why did you come to me at all?”

His voice was colder than he intended.

You wince.

Years of loneliness, of regret, of shame, of guilt — they’ve all eroded the soul he had before. He’s as changed as you. Propriety would once call that this conversation be chaperoned; now, he finds himself yearning for a moment alone with you.

His eyes snap away again.

“...It’s what I owe you,” he says — this time, purposefully softening each syllable to paint his intent; he tries to placate the ache he sees in your face, “You... You were always kind to me. Even when I hardly deserved it. Even now.”

His eyes are soft.

Your lashes flutter.

“...It was always impossible to be anything but kind to you, James Norrington.”

He’d forgotten how his name sounded on your tongue — coy, gentle and warm. Sweeter than he remembers now, punctuated by the briefest slip of a smile. It leaves with the passing wind.

With that, you slip down from your perch and slip away.

James watches you climb to the Crow’s Nest — agile and graceful — and wonders why he ever let himself forgo your affections in the first place.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The storm rears upon them sooner than anyone expected.

It’s as if in an instant, the Pearl is swallowed by clouds darker than it’s pitch-colored sails. The electric snap of lightning splits the sky open, and in the span of five minutes, the Pearl careens into the worst storm First Mate Joshamee Gibbs has seen in ten years.

The winds send waves high — and in the chaos of bone-rattling impacts upon the deck, the crew is sent into a scramble trying to maintain the heading. They’ll lose day's worth of travel if they let the storm have her way.

The rain is coming down so heavy that James Norrington can barely see — all he can hear is the hoarse barks of orders by Gibbs and the roar of the thunder and his own thoughts.

Tripoli. The Dauntless. Hundreds of men.

Tripoli. The Dauntless. Hundreds of men.

Tripoli. The Dauntless. Hundreds of men.

His back burns as his hands grip the sea-slick ropes and he heaves, pulling taut the mainsail with four men at his back. A wave slams them from the starboard side and sends a line of sailors tumbling — and James gulps for air when the ice water strikes him hard. But, he stands firm. Keeps hauling.

Tripoli. The Dauntless. Hundreds of men—

It’s your voice, suddenly, that cuts through the roar of the storm.

“HOLD FAST!”

The starboard side is being battered by the wind and the waves and the rain. Hit after hit, the crew tries to maintain footing as they adjust the sails to correct the heading — and now, you’ve planted yourself at the front of the line.

James’ head snaps to you — and he watches a wave nearly ten feet high slam down on the deck, directly atop your head.

Somehow, you stay upright.

But, it’s like drowning.

Your hair clings to you in wind-whipped tendrils of snarls. Your shirt is soaked through, and the chill is settling into your bones. Still, better down here than up in the Crow’s Nest. The mast, at that thought, groans loudly under the push of the wind. Your boots slip, and you stagger back as you try to haul the sails back to the position — behind you, Gibbs is braced.

Your hands are bleeding.

Lightning cracks close, and you try to breathe.

“BRACE!” suddenly comes the hard call of Gibbs in your ear — but it’s neither too late nor too soon, it’s simply not enough.

The rogue wave hits the Pearl hard.

You hit the deck harder.

In a tumble of limbs and shrieks and pain, you’re rolled violently towards port — and as you gasp hard to try and get up again, you’re slammed with another cold shock of seawater. It seizes up your lungs.

It’s a whirlwind of panic that seizes you the second your back slams against the port siding. It’s water and wind and thunder and the dizzying confusion of pain crawling up your temple — and then, it’s James.

James is there.

James is there, wild-eyed and soaked and holding your face in his hands as he’s shouting something — but your ears are ringing and you’re trying to see his mouth in the downpour.

Then, just like that, the world swims back into focus.

“GET BELOW DECK.”

All you can do is nod.

He helps you, with a bruising grip, towards the lower deck’s hold — water is pooling down here, up to your ankles, and it sways and rocks with each pitch the Pearl takes. Your knees wobble as you descend, and you spare James a single, long look back as he slams the deck door’s shut with a rattle.

The animals one level down are panicked.

There are a few souls down here — most nursing injuries, some praying.

Your stomach tumbles as the ship lurches again and you stagger into a bunk on the wall. Your hands grip the ladder tightly, and it’s then that you realize you’re still bleeding. You haul yourself up, muscles still burning, into a vacant top bunk. It’s nearly dry here — but the noise of the storm and creak of the ship’s bones does little to bring comfort.

Your head is pounding.

And so you stay there, in the lonesome dark, and try to remember the quiet psalm some tired soul is whispering into a rosary. A sailor’s prayer.

Slowly, as time creeps a half past the hour, the violence of the storm begins to subside — and on the seventeenth repetition of the prayer, sunlight begins to peek through the slats in the deck overhead.

You’ve turned your eyes to marvel at the warm rays pooling into the water that has gathered below deck. Little flickers of light dance around the space — and it’s almost heavenly. Peaceful. Quiet.

Then, James.

He’s fast to make his way to you — as the rest of the crew dwindles down, wrought with exhaustion and pain. His hands are as bloody and spent as yours; torn to shreds from the coarse ropes. And still, despite this, his touch is so gentle you swear you could cry.

“Are you alright?” he asks, in a desperate whisper, as his hand finds your knee and he gestures for you to come down from the bunk.

Your nod is far from convincing.

Truth be told, you’re off. Dizzy and confused and your entire back aches. Your ribs protest with each breath.

James sees it.

He’s gentle — and suddenly, so gentlemanly — when he slips his hands beneath your arms and gently helps you down from the bunk.

You slip down his front, hands tangled around his shoulders.

The act is enough to wind you.

You plant your forehead against the sopping wet cloth of his jacket.

This moment is enough; it placates the yearning you’ve stoked for years. It’s horrible in that way — that you’re allowed this now, after so long. After so much. But, James doesn’t pull away.

Instead, his hands slip to push matted tendrils from your temple.

Worry is heavy in his deep voice. “You’re bleeding.”

You’re exhausted.

And so is he.

What he’d give to collapse into his own bunk now — to sleep for a day, or maybe more. But, his heart won’t let him. Not when you’re here, and when he... when he almost thought he could have lost you.

...But, truly, he never really had you to lose.

Nor you him.

And maybe that’s the poetic part of all this.

Suddenly, Elizabeth is calling your name from atop the deck.

You slip away, hands brushing his chest as you do.

His hands trace your arms, and you’re gone.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You have no idea where you are.

All that matters — however — is that the Pearl is docked, your feet are firmly planted on land, and you’ve got a warm helping of food in your stomach.

The crew needed this after that storm.

You lean back in your chair, arms crossed, and loosen your grip on the bottle in your hands. It’s rum — cheap rum. But, to the dear Captain’s point: rum is rum is rum. You watch him, and Gibbs, and Elizabeth, and Marty converse about something with animated intent.

From across the crowded tavern, Lizzy offers a smile.

You honor it with a commemorative swig.

The bar is busy — working girls flit in and out with men on their arms, venturing upstairs for privacy. There are card games between tables, a fight in the back alley, and music blaring loudly from the corner. All in all, for being a small little port in the middle of nowhere, it’s good business.

Not very quiet, though.

James, all the while, is trying to ignore the gnaw of yearning the sight of you brings.

He’s staring — openly, now — from his position on the balcony. His own bottle is nearly half-gone. He’s by his lonesome up here, pestered every now and again by a woman or two promising a lovely evening. But, each time, he passes. And each time, his gaze lands back on you.

Had he been so stupid?

Had he been so damn blind?

He could have had you — you, beautiful and witty and charming and sharp. You, kind and gentle, as devoted as the sun is to the moon. He could have had friendship and love and all the things touted in a marriage.

But, no. He couldn’t have Elizabeth. And so, he went and he left and he fell apart at sea. He lost what he was, and drowned the man he used to be.

Sea-green eyes watch you stand from your table. You shrug on your rifle, drop your hat atop your head, and toss a few coins down for the barmaid.

So, James swigs the rest of his drink and follows.

The port is quieter — but still, the noise from the tavern bleeds into the town’s night air. Here, with music droning on as the waves lap at the dock, you find a bit of peace.

“Mind if I join you...?”

You turn, eyes pulled away from the moon.

James’ eyes are soft.

You give him a consenting nod.

It gives you a moment to take him in.

The two days in port have done him some good. He’s washed up, taken a bath, even shaved. But, the shadow of a beard has already begun to creep back along his sharp jaw. His hair is long, swept neatly away, and a few stray strands move in the cool breeze. His hands hang on his belt, loose and easy.

He’s always been tall — imposing. Very handsome. Even in that god-awful wig.

You remember that sandalwood cologne he favored back in Port Royal. Clean. Warm. Pervasive. Expensive. The sort of thing the salary of a Commodore could allow for.

Now, he smells like gun powder and rum.

His arm brushes yours as he sidles up beside you on the dock.

“It’s dangerous to be out here alone.”

Your eyes flick up to see him watching you — and you see humor there in his eyes.

You scoff. “Come to save me, have you? Once a dashing officer of the King’s navy, always one.”

His face twists into a bitter scowl. Like he tasted something sour. “I am inclined to disagree.”

You nudge him with your arm. “Fine. I amend everything from that previous statement, up to and not including the dashing part.”

For the first time in years, you hear him laugh.

Truly laugh. A real, low, thunderous chuckle creeps from his chest as he ducks his head and smiles.

It spurs you to muster your own laughter. You try to tamp it down, to keep it quiet and easy and light. The smile that digs into your cheeks intends to remain. The ache there is sweet.

He’s watching you again.

This time, you feel as though... as though this sort of look is different.

When he speaks, his voice is tender. His words are as sweet as a summer breeze.

“...I’ve made many mistakes in my life,” he begins, “But, I now believe forsaking you may have been my biggest.”

And it feels as if someone’s plunged a knife into your chest.

You aren’t sure how to respond to that. How could you have ever been prepared for that? In a thousand, heartbroken, lonely years, you never imagined you’d feel the returned affection of the man before you. And yet, here he is, bending to take your rope-burnt hands into his own.

“I am sorry.”

And again — and again, and again. The knife is twisted, and suddenly you feel months' worth of agony rush up. Words whispered between men at the docks, the HMS Dauntless was lost on the coast of Tripoli. That Commodore Norrington was declared lost at sea. He had left with barely a word. Hellbent and heartbroken.

You never imagined an apology.

His thumb brushes over your knuckles and your swallow roughly.

“James—”

Suddenly, there’s a hand on your cheek.

“Do not protest this,” he says quietly, “You know it is what you deserve. After all I’ve done.”

You’re shaking your head when his thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone. It’s enough to make your head spin. You find both hands clinging to his own now as you shake off the dizzying thought of him in your space.

You feel like a girl again.

“You had a duty—”

“To you,” he corrects sternly; his eyes are set in a serious manner, framed by dark brows that pull taught as he brushes his fingers against a stray lock by your ear, “And I should have seen that. And I didn’t.”

It’s then that you finally look up at him.

It’s his turn to be robbed of breath.

You speak quietly.

“...You’re a good man, James.”

“You need not lie to me,” he whispers back, the space between you both enough to send the moonlight spilling over your entwined shadows.

“I would never,” you insist, your hands moving to brace flat against his chest. Your thumb brushes a bare patch of skin just along his sternum. He feels as if he’s been set on fire.

“Then, tell me,” James breathes as his nose nudges yours, “Would you allow me this?”

His eyes flick to your mouth.

All you can muster is a nod.

And then he kisses you.

His fingers hold your chin, and the kiss is as chaste and gentle as any — it’s slow and kind and warm. It’s punctuated by a deep breath as you both sink into the feeling of one another’s hold.

He... He feels hale and whole.

In a thousand, heartbroken, lonely years, you never imagined you’d feel his lips against your own. And yet, here he is, bending to break your composure with a hand that ventures around your waist. His other cradles your jaw. You cling, and allow the chasteness to dissipate into a feverish sort of chase.

It’s your tug on his lapels, the bunched grip of your shirt, the stagger of boots against the deck as he bends at the knee and nips at your bottom lip. Your arms swim around his neck, and you try to kiss him like you’re not halfway to the depths of love.

You’ve tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, leaped onto the tips of your boots, and allowed for his hands to grip the curves of your waist tightly as he hides a desperate kiss into your smile.

And then, a voice.

“’Bout time, I’d reckon.”

Captain Jack Sparrow — in all his glory — stumbles by.

And James Norrington has to try not to kill him then and there.

[mypookiebeardavyjones]

Davy Jones Headcanons 🐙

(A/N) mostly fluffy! little headcanons I was supposed to post a while ago, but never did. I also added onto them-!

Dating Davy Jones is interesting…

He’s not fond of PDA

Mostly because well, the Undead Octopus captain has a reputation to uphold here!

So dates will normally be inside his quarters (as if he could go out on land to do anything anyways)

At most beyond that is you two going out looking at the beautiful ocean, at night while the crew slumbers and talking about anything really.

If you’re far into a relationship, those moments will be the ones where he tries his best to add in some words of affirmation.

With a small smile to back them

He is an insecure in a relationship admittedly, his previous had scarred his heart to the point he had to remove it so- it’s understandable

Reassurance you’re not leaving him is greatly appreciated to him lord he needs it

Physical affection in private makes him feel humane, if you touch him like a human rather than a deadly beast he’ll soften.

But also appreciate the monster-like features, the claw, the tentacle beard- it’ll make him feel more assured you’re in love with him.

He’s not too keen on nicknames, but will allow you to in private.

He steals clothes, jewels, and whatever he can find from the newly sunken ships of the deceased and hands them to you as a gift.

You might have issues with him mourning his past love, but with time, they’ll pass by and his heart will truly belong to you and you alone

Also to mention, kisses are… odd firstly you have to get used to the slime

…And the pirate breath. He’s undead, don’t expect minty fresh toothpaste smell.

At best- probably a fresh cigar smell.

In the beginning, it’s probably you who will give kisses first.

Because around you, he’s cautious with touch, very cautious. He doesn’t want to hurt you or ruin anything.

But if he’s upset, as in aggressively playing the organ. Just stand by and watch him till he’s done, then you can comfort him.

Whisper to him things like ‘I’m here for you Davy’ it’s something that he probably never received.

listen ily tia dalma but girl was NOT THERE FOR HIM 😭

[sleepingdeath-light]

warming your bed ; 18+

requested by ; nobody — reposted from another blog of mine

word count ; 772

content ; one night stand, oral, technically the set up for smut but there’s still sexual content hence the rating

fandom ; pirates of the caribbean

pairing ; captain jack sparrow x female reader

read also on ; ao3

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

It’s a quiet summer evening; the type of day where you have the time to sit out on the balcony and watch the sun set from a cloudless sky over a calm ocean. A few dozen docked ships partially silhouetted by the gradually fading light as your patrons slowly filter out of your tavern doors. One by one they stumbled and tumbled out onto the pier, arm in arm and exchanging plentiful raucous laughter and drunken conversation (as far as one would call it that) with each and every one of them grinning widely from ear to ear.

Yeah, a quiet night indeed. At the very least you had been spared from having to play witness or mediator to many bar fights — only having seeing the tail-end of one before another customer broke it up to spare you the trouble. No hassle, minimal mess, not very loud. It was a harbour-business’ dream. Some people were just good like that — you just wished you’d see them more often than just through the summer.

But even with the consideration of your pillaging patrons, there was still a great deal of work to do — and you couldn’t very well have them do the chores for you. They were your guests, after all, not your employees (lord knows you couldn’t afford any with all of the expenses you have to look out for; the joys of working with pirates). So you turned to go back inside, soapy bucket and rag in hand.

Or, rather, you tried to go back inside but your path was obstructed by a swaying figure that reeked of rum. Another pirate, it seemed.

Oh joy.

Like many others before him, he says he’s looking for shelter and a drink — says he’s on bad terms with his crew and got kicked off for the night. Part of you wants to turn him away or pry about what exactly got a captain (as he identified himself) voted off of his own ship, but you decide against it and put on your best service smile and usher him over to the messy reception area, writing his name with a worn down quill before leading him to the bar.

Captain Jack Sparrow, he introduced himself with a slight drunken slur to his voice, and you can’t help but feel like you’d heard the name before. Mostly in complaints from customers, remarks about how ridiculous and illogical he is — how he doesn’t seem to have very much self awareness or adherence to the code (a code you knew better than to pry about). But none of that really mattered here; the captain was now a patron of yours and so long as he payed you fairly you couldn’t care less for his reputation.

Business is business, after all.

From there it doesn’t take very long for him to start getting rather talkative — and, very openly flirty at that. He takes each drink offered with a smile and a wink and thanks you with compliments that gradually get more and more flustering than flattering… and yet you find yourself getting more fond of the eccentric man’s company, engaging him with conversation and listening intently to each (likely heavily embellished) story he tells.

A few short minutes after he began spinning his elaborate tales of the seas, the two of you were stumbling your way through the halls of your inn — wanting to hear more than just his fantastical stories and needing to feel more than just his hand on your thigh. You could feel his greedy hands roaming freely over your body as you just barely manage to grab the key and unlock the door before you both fall into a heap on the wooden floor.

He tasted of rum and the sea, with an eager tongue and teeth that bit your lips red and raw — leaving his mark without shame or regard for the outside world and letting you get drunk off of him. Large, calloused hands pinched and groped at you through the thin fabrics of your sullied dress; pushing your skirts up to your waist and tugging your bodice down to expose your breasts to his greedy gaze.

Pinching, tugging and twisting; he payed close attention to your chest until your nipples pebbled under his fingertips and only then did he turn his attention to your soaked pussy — reaching down through your undergarments to slide his index finger along your slit. And when he pulls away from the kiss to suck it clean and comments on your taste, you know that you’re in for a long night, and you can’t even bring yourself to complain.

[captain-camille]

_ 𝐀 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧 _

‣ Jack Sparrow x f!reader

‣ requested by anon ‣ 4,2k words

‣ After the ruthless pirate Captain Connor kidnapped you; a mermaid, your situation seems hopeless. Until another outlaw appears who has a score to settle with Connor and ends up freeing you along the way. Destiny or not - there is a connection quickly forming between you...

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ yn got kidnapped and treated badly, violence, mention of injuries/blood, language

Slowly, the distant gunshots faded to peaceful twitter and rustling of an insular rainforest. The Sinister Lady was lost to the firepower of another ship; a huge vessel with imposing black sails.

Captain Connor was cursing a pirate named Jack Sparrow when less and less of his prized possession was seen above the water surface.

The reason for the crew's obvious fear of this man, whoever he was, was beyond you. However, you overheard two men whispering about a chart Connor had stolen some months ago.

Much to your chagrin your abductor's new plan was to shake off Jack Sparrow in the uncharted part of this island. By foot.

The men who had been holding you hostage for over two months after your violent abduction in Whitecap Bay didn't care in the slightest that you were used to a tail, not legs.

A faint sigh of destiny told you that there was no use in running from the man who was coming for the crew of miscreants around you.

But could dying today really be worse than constantly awaiting death?

You raked your neck to get a last glimpse of the unfamiliar ship before the path would be peppered with bushes and Ramón trees.

“You! Sea whore!“ the first mate suddenly barked at you, yanking at the rough metal chain that was locked around your wrists.

Blood was smeared on your skin from how sharp the metal was. Your legs hurt from how far they had already made you walk.

Not daring to look him in the eye, you simply lowered your head. The consequences for misbehaving were ugly.

“Not tha' hard“ he muttered in a disgusting slur. “Ne'er slow down, or else I put a bullet in ye pre'y head“.

Resilience was weighing down on you like a barely comforting blanket. But you knew there was no use of resistance.

You had tried.

Another filthy pirate caught up with the first mate, exchanging glances of egotism with him.

“Ye know, I'll get meself a whole lotta wenches with all tha coins from sellin'er“ he growled, showing off his rotting, black teeth in the process.

A cold sensation of repulsion and woe cascaded down your spine, reminding you that your buyer could be even worse. Vertebra by vertebra.

Your skin began to burn with every minute you spent separated from the sea. Any water.

Oh, how you missed surging through the vast ocean.

But, frankly, you did not miss any of your sisters after they had left you behind with Connor. Most likely they thought you were dead by now.

That is if they were still thinking about you at all.

Every step was exhausting as you were still getting used to walking on your legs, let alone climbing. A painful hiss of surprise escaped your lips as a sharp stone pierced your right foot.

Immediately, the Captain stormed towards you, fury and annoyance written all over his wrinkly face.

“Wha' a sissy, you are. Pull in them hideous fangs and shut it!“ the man growled, spitting on the moist ground only a few inches from where you stood.

You were already tensing, awaiting a rough, painful pull on the chains but your legs were fast enough to keep up.

Coercion seemed to have been a potent teacher after all.

Finally, the seemingly endless topical forest around you broke apart and revealed a small glade with a lake. You could't help but allow a wistful sigh at the sight.

Your home.

“Now we hope Sparrow drops followin' us in 'ere and we can continue head south for Port Felice on tha morrow“ Captain Connor announced earning a collective “Aye“ from his crew.

“I shall spare you the trouble of hopin' then, eh?“ a foreign, male voice echoed from behind a tall bush.

Connor's men rapidly drew their pistols and swords, eyes frantically searching for the voice's source.

Must be Jack Sparrow, you concluded, unsure of what to expect before a strange yet handsome looking man emerged from the greens.

His dark eyes, underlined in black, were trained on Connor and his first mate. He overlooked you sitting on the mossy ground.

“Sparrow“ Captain Connor growled through gnashing teeth.

You were sure there was unease sparkling through his bitter gaze. After Sparrow just sunk his ship the default hostility of Connor's gaze wouldn't suffice.

“I'd tell yer men to stop threatenin' me, if I were you“ the man with brown dreadlocks and a tricorn hat suggested, leaning closer to Connor in a provocative way.

With so many weapons pointed at him, he did not seem to feel threatened in the slightest. Fearless, even.

If you were to die, maybe you would at least be able to watch this disgusting men around you bite the stranger pirate's bullet first.

Sparrow backed up again, now circling the two men in charge of the Sinister Lady's crew instead. “Luckily and conveniently, I happen to be me. Not you“ he added with a finger pointing at Connor then to himself, the perilous tone gone.

You fought the urge to giggle at the asynchrony of his words and gesture. After two months stripped of any joy, you felt an instant connection to the airy pirate.

“Lower yer weapons, damnit“. Connor finally gave the order, his honor clearly at stake.

A satisfied grin spread on Sparrow's handsome face when he clapped his hands together and rubbed them.

Weirdly, he was oozing pure dominance in the loose and relaxed way he composed himself. He was almost comfortable in this precarious situation.

Connor squinted his eyes at the man who had many colorful beads and silver charms woven within his braids.

“C'mon, what 'bout an accord? What do ye want?“.

You cocked your head slightly, confused by the way the usually so frigid and irreverent Captain acted in Sparrow's presence.

It pained you to know that he was somehow tamable and you had failed to do so all this time.

On the other hand, a shiver spread on your human thighs at the thought of what this Jack Sparrow must be capable of if a man like Connor obeyed him.

“The real question is; what do I not want? Right, Master Gibbs?“ Jack purred.

Another man, a little smaller with grey hair and chops, stepped out of the opaque ticket of the rainforest.

He scrutinized the crowd and eventually spotted you on the ground.

Your pupils widened at the unexpected eye contact before you tore them off him in a demure way - reluctant submissiveness that slaps, rusty chains and nights in the brig had taught you.

“Aye, cap'n“ the man, Master Gibbs, verbally agreed before you could feel his narrowed gaze on you once again.

“And wha' be it you don' want?“ Connor shot back, clearly growing impatient while his opponent seemed to revel in it even more.

“Me charts in the hands of another, you cowardly scallywag“ Jack finally dropped the playful façade again, his hand resting on the handle of his sword.

Connor swallowed behind a stone-like expression.

So all this was indeed about a chart... It must lead to some kind of fortune or riches, you thought, recalling the many treasures you were familiar with.

Only you would never tell a man about them. It was sister's law that a mermaid was to die rather than reveal the mysteries of the sea.

But were you still to obey their laws now that you were on your own?

“Tough! Went down with our ship ye sunk“ the first mate interfered, hatred dripping from his words like spit.

Jack just raised a brow, looking the man up and down like he was a bleating goat.

Once again you caught yourself at the brink of smiling.

“Who be you?“ he inquired, nodding in his direction with no urge to actually approach him.

Connor's head quickly turned to his first mate who was now overridden by his own boldness and approaching Jack with a bad idea.

“Tha one to tell ye bilge-sucking self that we don't have what ye want“ he began, a slur in his drunken voice “Send us to Davy Jones' locka or leave“.

Jack cocked his head, fingers twisting his mustache, as if considering what the man had just proposed.

“Meh... Am not leavin' just like that, says I-ahh“ the pirate Captain noted but his declaration ended in a huff when the first mate lunged at him.

You flinched, squeezing your eyes shut. Such kind of scenario wasn't new to you by now.

“Mother's love, Jack!“ Gibbs produced a pistol from his belt and didn't hesitate a second to shoot the wanton first mate.

Another shot rumbled through the rainforest, men were shouting and grunting.

At this point you were covering your ears with your hands, keeping your knees close to your chest. Chained and weakened outside your element, there was nothing you could do about the chaos anyway.

However, when the chains around your wrists began to rattle and draw blood again, you finally dared to look up.

Connor glared at you with painful defeat in his eyes. “Get up, beastie“ he snapped, his arm extending, ready to slap you across the face if you didn't obey fast enough.

But his arm got pulled down by Jack who appeared on Connor's side and was looking at you with what seemed like mesmerization.

And sorrow.

“I said release her not beat 'er“ Sparrow whispered in the Captain's ear, his deep tone an unmistakable threat. It set Connor's mouth in a hard line.

You stayed silent, not knowing if you were expected to say something while stunned by the prospect of the foreign pirate's words.

Did he mean it?

But why?

Mister Gibbs emerged from behind Jack, a rusty key ring in his rough hands.

“Human trafficking, the worst of sins it be“ he muttered when gently taking your wrists and sinking a big, black key in the lock of your chains.

Connor's face was twisted by many emotions, most of them shades of disarray and disgust. “She a monster. A whore of tha seas. No human“ he spat.

Gibbs frowned at the man's cruel words, their nature fueling his doing.

*click*

You couldn't suppress the beam of relief that spread on your face when the heavy chains slid from your hurt wrists for good.

“Ahhh“ Jack cooed, leaning down to catch your lowered gaze and giving you an equally gleeful smirk beneath raised brows “I tell ye what she is, mate“ he straightened his spine again, dragging your invested gaze up with him.

All the fear in your system evaporated.

“A gorgeous creature. And not deserving of yer wheelin' and dealin', savvy?“.

“Thank you, Mister Sparrow“ were the first cautious words you addressed to the mercurial yet friendly-looking pirate.

His smile became a crunched grimace, his pointer raised. “It's Captain, if you please“.

A silent 'oh' fled from your lips.

You didn't know what to do or say. But his gravelly chuckle at your confusion signaled that he had not taken any insult.

To your right Connor spread his arms, sighing.

“I did wha' ye asked. Now let us go“ he complained, his authority crumbling before the eyes of his crew.

Gibbs nudged Jack's side, his eyes mentioning to the trail where they initially came from.

“Actually, I don’t. And settin' her free was just what the high-up people call common courtesy“ Jack sauntered past Connor, his head high, savoring his honorable, non-piratey act.

But you didn't fail to see a hint of pain in his extravagant display.

Was he hurt? The smell of blood told you yes.

“You, missy“ he suddenly called out to you, his dark eyes crawling all over your human body, squinting at the many bruises “Remember this as the day that Captain Jack Sparrow saved a mermaid“.

The charming pirate winked before gesturing to the lake. An invitation to take your freedom back.

At first, your steps were hesitant as you weaved past the crew members that had treated you like shit for the past two months. Nevertheless, enthusiasm was quick to infiltrate your veins when the sparkling water surface came closer.

You looked back one last time, seeing how Jack Sparrow offered you a warm smile of farewell before resigning to deal with Connor.

“What'r ye waitin' for, lass? The lake leads to the ocean through tunnels beneath“ Gibbs ripped your attention from the man whose husky voice would linger in your mind.

“You have my eternal gratitude“.

And with a quick dive you were gone.

The water felt like heaven's sweetest redemption engulfing your dried out body. Replaced by your tail, the unfamiliar sensation of having legs vanished.

It wasn't that you disliked them, but the circumstance of learning to walk could have been more pleasant.

Eventually, you got yourself back; your essence and courage.

What Jack did to those men didn't bother you in the least. Whether he killed them or let them live to return to your furious buyer without a mermaid...

They were pure evil. So were your sisters but never you.

Gibbs was right.

You ended up in a coral reef after swimming through narrow underwater tunnels that were carved in the islands volcanic landmass.

With your tail flailing and pushing your upper body above the surface, you looked around only to spot the ship with black sails half a mile away.

The sight of your bold rescuer and Master Gibbs in a dinghy made you smile. Him and his crew were returning to their ship.

You wondered where they would head next... what adventures this mysterious man had lived and was yet to have.

Curiosity got the better of you so you dived down, rapidly making your way to the longboat.

At least you would like to thank him one last time. It was more than in order after only hell knew what tribulations he had saved you from.

“Captain Sparrow?“ you gingerly called out for him, not wanting to startle the men to death.

“Aye?“ you heard his taken-aback question, seeing him turn and twist his upper body to find you; the source of this dulcet mermaid voice.

It made you laugh. Freely, now that no one would harm you again.

A member of his crew, missing one eye, poked Jack's arm and pointed out to where you floated in between gentle waves.

The pirate Captain's handsome face lit up with the same wide grin as it did after he had told Gibbs to unchain you.

“I see, haven't returned to yer sisters yet. Why's that?“ he queried, gold teeth reflecting the Caribbean sun's evening light.

“Have not“ you smiled, swimming closer and gripping the rim of the dinghy to keep yourself steady “I wanted to thank you again. Properly. For saving my life“.

The pirate gave a quick chuckle, waving off as if it was nothing.

To you it was everything.

Jack gently lifted your right hand from the wood, hoisting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your wet skin. His lips were surprisingly soft and the beard tickled.

You giggled, enjoying his playful chivalry.

“Me, I'm a bad man, Missy. But a monster I'd be if I let an innocent, pretty woman suffer“.

Your giggle became a genuine beam. Fleeting was the worry what he might think of your fangs.

Master Gibbs cleared his throat, earning a slightly annoyed look of 'not now' by his Captain, whose gaze flickered back to you.

Another man, chubby with a few long, thin hair pushed Gibbs to the side as he spoke up “Don't let yerself be charmed by 'er, Cap'n. She's a mermaid!“.

The worried man's voice was filled with scepsis, still he awkwardly tried to shoot you a polite smile across the lines. It reminded you that no matter Jack's behavior, you were still to earn the crew's trust.

“Is there a way I could return the favor of saving me?“ you asked the Captain, your face twisted in guilt.

Jack disliked the way this emotion weighed heavy on your stunning face. But he couldn't think of something, so he remained silent.

A rare thing to happen for the witty Captain, as Gibbs realized.

Carefully, your tail began to flap and you pushed the dinghy towards the imposing, dark pirate vessel.

“Whoa! What's that?!“ it blurted out of one of the crewman, whose grip around the edges of the boat clawed.

It only spared them a bit of muscle power but it was the first 'helpful' thing your nervous mind came up with.

The Captain, who had his fingers playing with his braided beard, thinking, now pointed at the chubby man, calling him out.

“See?“ he began with a victorious shrug of his shoulders “Not vicious at all“.

Another quiet chuckle left your lips at his quirky nature.

Jack Sparrow seemed anything but a bad man.

As you arrived at the stern of the ship where the lines were cast for the crew to climb back up, Jack signaled them to go on.

“All hands, weigh anchor!! Get 'er ready to make way“ his commandeering tone sent an interesting ripple down your scales.

He turned his attention back to you, naturally making you smile again.

“Ye know, lass, there ain't no debt to be paid or anything. Mark me words“ he noted, his dark, mysterious eyes dwelling on your soft gaze.

Your mouth opened, but closed again as you reconsidered.

The Captain watched you intently, the corners of his eyes crinkled more and more with every second of looking at your face framed by wet, wavy hair.

“What about the chart you so desired?“ you ended up asking, the idea of you searching the wreck for him spreading in your keen mind.

But Jack shook his head, the charms and pearls in his dreadlocks jingling.

“Lassie, the ship exploded when we attacked. The chart's burnt to nothin' but ashes“.

The excitement of doing him a favor sunk at his words, dragging the corners of your mouth along.

Suddenly, you felt the back of Jack's hand grazing your cheek. Your eyes shot up. The memories of being mistreated were too fresh for your instincts not to be alerted.

However, the rough hand stilled, an unspoken ask for consent in the pirate Captain's underlined eyes.

You granted him a smile, weirdly relishing in the sensation of his touch. So different to what you were used to by now.

So... good.

“Believe you me, it be satisfaction enough to know that this rat Connor will be returnin' to Blackbeard empty-handed, savvy?“ he snickered, ignoring the stinging in his hand.

Not really listening to his words, you slowly found yourself the one who was enchanted.

But then there was this smell again...

Your nostrils flared as you realized it was his hand that had been cut by Connor's nasty first mate. Bastard. It reminded you of the times he had slapped or yanked you like a doll.

Without Sparrow you would have just given up any hope someday.

Just speaking what was on your mind at that moment, you softly took his hand in yours.

“It would mean the world to me if I could return the favor of saving me“ you explained, eyes trained on the deep, bleeding cut in Sparrow's palm.

“You've proven I can trust you with my live even though I am, -was, no one to you“.

The pirate let you examine his wound, not feeling the slightest urge to pull away.

On the surface of his mind it vexed him how vulnerable he allowed himself to be with you, given he barely knew anything about you other than what you were.

But deep down he felt a blooming connection; trust as you said.

“Aye? Ye think me trusty?".

Slowly, giving him time to adjust to the burn of salt water in an open wound, you guided his hand to dip into the ocean.

With brows furrowed, mouth agape, Jack watched what you did as if spellbound.

“Yes...“ you affirmed, joy dancing across your heart when Jack's eyes sparkled at the sight of his wound now gone. “I have nowhere to go anyway. My sisters have betrayed me so they surely won't miss me“.

As you set his hand free, the pirate's pupils quickly narrowed on his wet palm, twisted it in the rays of sunlight as if the wound could be hidden by an inconvenient shadow.

“Wha' ?“.

“It's truly gone, Jack“ you giggled, not realizing how you had impulsively addressed him.

But he did, guiding his attention back to you and wearing a flirty smirk.

Maybe it was the right thing to give in to your request, he thought, admiring the way the entire beauty of the ocean laid within your smile.

“Well...“ he began to propose, standing up on the somewhat rickety dinghy to offer you his healed hand “if yer so keen on squarin', bonny, what say you to joinin' me crew for a while?“.

Almost reflexively, you accepted his hand.

The allure of a new, fresh start spread in your system when the Captain intertwined your fingers with his.

“I owe you after all, Captain Sparrow“ you grinned.

He gave a light-hearted chuckle before throwing his head back and shouting for his crew to haul the lines.

You let out an unbridled cry of joy as Jack pulled you in his arms and the crew hauled the two of you on board in a swift, fast move.

When the absence of water began to take it's toll on your body, you panicked in realization of your impending state of undress.

“I got ye, wait“ the Captain murmured when he set you down and slid his brown jacket off, revealing a loose white shirt that complimented his tanned torso.

The jacket was long enough to cover you all the way to your knees and had golden buttons to close it with. So very unlike the mere rags Connor had given you.

“Thank you“.

“Anytime. We still need to fetch ye a dress or somethin'. Master Gibbs?“ he called out only to be startled by his first mate already lingering close.

A conflicted look settled on his face as he stared at you through squinted eyes.

Then, he leaned over to Jack, voice lowered “Cap'n, ye know it's frightful bad-“

“Nonsense!“ the Captain promptly cut him off, patting his back with vigor.

“It's only bad luck if ye believe in trifles such as luck, and see bad in the lass in question but, as things look, firstly, am not enough a fool to buy into luck and, secondly-“ he interrupted his wordy excuse and gestured to you with a wink “don't tell me yer eyesight has worsened 'cause she's just a darlin'.“

Although, his winding, quick speech prompted confusion, you couldn't stop your lips from smiling.

This man was unlike anyone you had ever encountered; witty, affectionate and yet erratic.

You were already enraptured by his nature.

Out of the blue, the Captain turned on his heels to face you anew, eyes narrowed. “Missy, do you have a name?“ he queried in a low tone to which you hesitantly shook your head.

Names were uncommon among your sisters.

However, before shame could overtake your expression, Jack's face lit up with an idea.

“Oi! You lousy landlubbers-“ he called out to his crew, the authority infusing his voice with a rasp “Welcome Bonny as she'll be sailin' with us for a while“.

“AYE“ the crew quickly echoed back.

Many pairs of excited eyes rested on you, heads nodding appreciatively what you returned with a shy but positive smile.

Absentmindedly stepping back, you felt Jack's warm hand ghosting the small of your back, the other one already tight on the wheel.

With a sigh of relief and the bright feeling of security, you leaned in, accepting his gentle grip on your waist. His protectiveness was incredibly pacifying.

Looking back it the extraordinary Captain, you saw his gold teeth flash in a proud grin before he spoke up again.

“And no one's touchin' her. She's mine, savvy?“.

Feeling hot blood rush into your cheeks, you instinctively let your weight shift backwards until your back rested against his chest.

“We shall see about that, Captain“ you snickered, already feeling the ocean breeze blow your hair as the Black Pearl gained speed.

Unbeknownst to you, a playful pout reigned over Jack's face before it got replaced with the pure thrill of anticipation.

Hunger for the yet-to-be-found and yet-to-be-done.

It was even more intense this time with you by his side; a wondrous, genuine soul who trusted him just so.

After all the bad and lawless he had done, he was still a good man.

After all the bad and dull you had endured, a spirit of adventure was still in you.

A spirit you never thought you carried but there you were, settling a debt with Captain Jack Sparrow.

You began to hope it would take you a lifetime.

The many charms in his hair chimed when he leant down to your level, his mouth a mere inch from your ear. “Ever heard of the Amulet of Ponce de Léon's wife?“ his husky voice asked, eyes shifting from the horizon to you.

Sliding him a knowing, lively glance, you curled your lips up before they parted and whispered “I have, Captain. What do you want to know?“.

“First, I wan' ye to know that for you, it's just Jack...“

Off to stranger tides... Thank you for reading my hearties ❤︎

tags: @holdmytesseract @mochie85 @socksracoon10 @goldencherriess @chronicallybubbly @kcd15 @always-on-hiatus @groovyqueer

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬/𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: general tomfoolery

↳ song: the rocky road to dublin—the dubliners

masterlist!

• Oh god there's two of you now

• That's what went through most people's heads upon meeting the both of you side by side

• Wil Turner especially. He can hardly deal with one Jack Sparrow, much less another one

• It falls on Elizabeth more times than not to keep the peace between all of you—but even she struggles with keeping the both of you in line

• "Remind me why we can't just throw them overboard Elizabeth?" Will all but pleaded at one point

• "Because it's their ship Will! Besides, they'd find us again anyways. They always do."

• "Got that right, lassie!" You'd hiccuped from somewhere above them, startling everyone as Will and Elizabeth looking up—only to be met with the sight of you clutching a bottle of gin in your hand and smiling drunkenly

• "Oh for fucks sake."

• They had to resort to using a mop to get you down from the mast in the end

• Apart from all of the other shenanigans the two of you get involved in on the regular, you and Jack have this little superstition

• It's not much—when one of you is having trouble thinking of any good ideas or a solution to something, they'll grab the other's hat and swap it with their own, wearing the stolen hat in its place

• It's almost as if the two of you believe bad energy gets stuck in the hat and that you have to get rid of it. It's stupid, but the superstition could be worse, that's for sure. Besides, you're the only one who gets the lay a finger on Jacks hat, so that's a bonus

• This should really go without saying, but expect some flirting from Captain Jack Sparrow

• He can hardly keep his hands to himself half the time, much less his wandering gaze, so you've been known to knock him on the head once or twice

• But all is well in the end, even if he does drown you in more nicknames than anyone else

• "Could you take the wheel for me real quick, love?"

• "Just call me by my name Jack. You've known me long enough by now to at least do that."

• "No thanks, darling. I much prefer this."

• Jack Sparrow is fucking insufferable, overly cocky, and a bit of an unorthodox pirate. But he's your unorthodox pirate—and vise versa

• Neither of you would give up the other for all the gold in the world

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Hey there! First time requesting haha but I LOVE your writings!

Anyway may I request some relationship headcanons with Jack, Barbossa and Davy? Thank you and have a good day <3

Hello dear 💖, thanks for your request.

Being in a relationship with them 🫂

Jack sparrow:

Jack sparrow, Jack sparrow in a committed relationship is a very special thing. Gibbs even said, "Jack stayin' is like treasure, ye can't lose him cause he values ya too much."

Nights out on the pearl with dancing and music.

Learning how to sail and join the piracy life; plundering the other ships and pillaging those that have treasure.

Jack would match you to his freedom, his soul for the pearl.

Jack being more genuine with you then his previous love interests.

He would still flirt with many lasses but wouldn't commit to them.

Smiling every time he saw you sail the pearl.

Passionate snogging, picture the most dramatic scene in the world, and him kissing you on the forecastle of the ship.

Jack "trying" to impress you with something you like, even if it may involve a dangerous chase with Master Gibbs.

Jack learning to be a good person for you. Only you, he ain't gonna give up the pirate life savvy.

Jack may be on edge with having a child.

Drinking rum together.

Master Gibbs asking about you and Jack. He likes that scuttlebutt of your relationship.

Marriage may be something he has thought about. "See, I'm the captain, and I can give my blessings on my ship, whaddya say love hm."

Jack may be choatic, tred lightly.

Jack would flirt a lot. He would treat you like he treats freedom as his first beloved.

Jack would have "things" and values you first before Master Gibbs.

Jack Sparrow is always showing you adventure and loves to lay with you in the sand on a beach.

Alot of snogging on that beach.

Imagine you're in his cabin, talking about sweet nothing's, and finally, you start start to kiss him until an interruption from one of the crew mates happened. You squeal in embrassment as Jack says, "Oi, can't-cha wait a little longer mate".

Seeing the sun fall each night and being in the arms of Jack Sparrow as he tells his adventures featuring 'a dashing captain who saved a fine lass from evil buccaneers'.

Jack would mature and start to become committed. He would risk his life from the depths of jones's locker to save you.

Know once you have Jack, treat him like treasure cause that's rare to come by.

Hector Barbossa:

Hector would have a secret affair. He would visit you on land to spend his days with you.

Having peaceful evenings in his quarters or his dining room with you.

Barbossa is more genuine with you, and no tricks or surprises come with it.

He feels the serenity he once did when he's on the pearl.

Being a passionate man, that would even make Jack Sparrow jealous.

You gave him something to believe in and fight for.

He would be protective of you. Perhaps if you knew how to fight, he would back off a bit but still throw a cutlass at a cur for you.

Touching. lot of touching, he would touch your shoulders, neck, face, cheek and hold your body close to him.

Star gaze with you, he would tease you if you got a star wrong.

Act tough and wants you to see him as tough. Despite him only being human, you know when he has his down moments.

He would act in many ways to impress you, but he'll break down his wall to show you who he is, even if he isn't "the best" in the world.

Having insecurity if you showed interest in having a child.

Marriage would be a possible thought, although it would be done under his blessings and not told amongst any of his men.

Kissing him would be passionate, full of touching of your body.

He would carry a miniature portrait of you when he's sailing.

Sometimes drifting off at the ocean missing your presence.

Sparrow mocking him, oh yes, even Jack's smart enough to figure it out.

"Tell me, who's that woman you've been catching fancy? Could've sworn her name starts with y/n, y/n parsley, no tha's not it, Ah y/n L/N that's it."

"Shut It Sparrah."

Barbossa wouldn't forget you. He would hold you dearly close and value every dabloon worth of you. You're his treasure.

Davy Jones:

Davy would still be in heartbreak over Calypsos betrayal. He wouldn't be able to move from his past until he met you.

You brought him light, life, and hope once again.

He would be softer and kinder to you and mutter small words like "mah heart beats fah you" or "Yah be me savouir."

Having you as his beacon to ease his pain. He would need comforting in your presence.

He would fight for you or anything that comes to destroy you.

Kissing would involve him caressing you with his tentacles and planting his slimy lips on yours.

He could potentially turn human from your kindness. You've given him pieces of humanity.

His past would still remain, it haunts him and nothing can rid of it.

When he's playing the organ, you listen and comfort him.

He would still act cruel, but if you didn't want a person to die, he would let them join the crew in place request for not killing them.

A new pain occurred within him of letting you re join land. However, he can't let you go because he would miss you dearly.

Settling a deal to Calypso to let you live and for once has a redemption arch.

Playing a new song that's a thought of you.

Tossing the locket around his neck into the sea and feeling more at peace.

He would resurface to be with you.

Anyways that's all I have for now:

Ta Ta ✨️

[ha1taniwh0re]

Do we have a deal?

What if Jack has a sister who will pay his debt to Davy Jones

I was sleeping in Jack's cabin when I heard people talking on deck. I got out and saw our cew being surrendered by some other crew, they were weird.

"You have a boy, that's my payment" Jack said.

"One soul isn't equal to other" other captain said.

I know him... It's Davy Jones. Jack and him made a deal. He will be a captain of Black Pearl for 13 years but has to serve for 100 years on Dutchman. While I was looking around I saw that William was nowhere to be found.

"How about a female soul??" I asked

Everyone looked at me, Jack was horrified.

"And who are you?" Davy Jones asked.

"My name is (name) Sparrow. Jack's younger sister. You want him to be on your ship, I have the same blood as him. We also look alike"

"and why would I need a woman on my ship??"

He was telling the truth, pirates belive that woman on ship is bad luck.

"Give the boy back, take me and do what you please" I said and gave him my hand.

"NO!!"Jack yelled and took my hand.

"You made this mess and you don't want to clean it up. I won't let Elizabeth lose her fiancé because of you Jack" I said.

"YEAH YOU THINK ABOUT HER AND NOT YOURSELF!! Do you think she would do this for you if it was opposite?" Jack said.

I looked at him angry, pulled my hand from him and turned back to Jones.

"Do we have a deal?"

He was looking at my hand and smirked. He pulled my hand and took by waist to come closer to him.

"BRING THE BOY BACK!!! " Jones yelled and one of crew mates did it.

William looked at us confused, but when he saw me in Jones's hands he understood everything.

"SHE IS YOUR SISTER JACK!!" Will said.

Jack was just looking at me and I disappeared with Jones and his crew.

[socksracoon10]

Pirate

Pairing: Will Turner x F!Reader, Jack Sparrow x F!Reader (Platonic)

That imbecile had left you with Barbossa, and the thought of having to deal with his monkey's stupid chattering had nearly driven you to madness. Seizing any opportunity available, you had found yourself a small boat and began your search for Sparrow. You weren't expecting much from him, considering you were technically a part of his crew - the rest were with Barbossa. Not that it made any difference, though, because at the moment you were without a captain and unfortunately in the eyes of a few redcoats who eyed you, warily. They drew their rifles closer to themselves, marching over with some fire in their eyes.

"Oh, curse me," You muttered underneath your breath, throwing your hat into the water below, before carefully stepping onto a dock. Your foot dangled helplessly onto the boat, almost causing you to lose your balance. Gesturing for a soldier to come help you, you grabbed hold of his arm and hoisted yourself up onto the wooden platforms and sighed in relief, thanking them with false kindness.

"Enough, enough," One of them grumbled, rolling his eyes. He sneezed, the droplets of his mucus flying past you as you cringed at the sight. Despite being a pirate, you still had at least a little bit of hygiene left in you during your days as a "proper" lady. "What brings a girl like you to Port Royal, especially in that poor excuse of a boat?"

You followed the soldier's fingers to the vessel, noticing the way a few splinters poked out from the oars. It was a ghastly sight and a miracle that it had managed to take you this far without sinking. Shaking your head, you came up with the best excuse you could think of,

"I was robbed by a pirate. I was hoping at least one of you would show some mercy and help me find that treacherous man." 

"Was it Jack Sparrow?" Another soldier chimed in, his voice so delicate as he uttered the name.

"Precisely!" You whispered, excitedly as you wriggled your eyebrows, "Have you seen him lurking about here? I ought to give him a piece of mind!"

"Now, now, listen here, you don't have to do anything," The third soldier cried out with an exasperated sigh, "As misfortunate as your encounter with Sparrow must be, I implore you to go find yourself an inn for the time being." He had this air of haughtiness in his voice, one that made your frown deepen into a snarl. Biting the inside of your cheek, you pushed any emerging ill comments at him down to your boots and merely nodded your head in response.

Pushing past the soldiers, you trailed up the staircase to the cobbled streets of Port Royal and found a group of more soldiers running down the streets from The Governor's quarters. Frowning, your faintly heard the mention of Jack Sparrow among one of the redcoats that passed by you and you instantly figured out what was going on.

Crossing through an alley, you found a familiar set of beads dangling from an individual's head, hiding behind a wagon; he occasionally lifted his head to peer for any danger, unaware of your presence behind him.

"AHEM," You crossed your arms, glaring at him. Either he was ignoring you on purpose, or he was incredibly deaf and stupid. Rolling your eyes, you slapped the back of his head and watched him hurl into the wagon with a yelp of pain. He turned around on his heels, swiftly, narrowing his eyes for a moment to scan your face. Upon recognition, he grinned and held his hands up in the air,

"(Y/N)! Sweetheart, what are you doing here?" He exclaimed, holding onto your hands. You wriggled out of his grasps, before slapping him across his face, sharply.

"You moron! You left me aboard Barbossa's ship! After everything we've been through, I thought you were a brother to me! Family! You've decided to lurk about and be the prying little-"

"Whoa... now, love, we don't have much time to listen to your usual rants, do we?" Jack interjected your thoughts, raising a finger up. He swayed towards you, looking over your shoulder to ensure that there were no redcoats nearby. His eyes then glanced back towards you, "Listen, I think we should split ways and then meet up back at the docks. What do ya say?"

"I say no," You hiss, "I don't trust your words. We go together, or I'll throw you to the soldiers myself!"

"Darlin', you're a pirate too. You're only doing yourself a disservice here," Jack scoffed, and you clutched onto his collar,

"Try me. You cross me one more time, I won't care if you're my captain or like a brother to me, I shall drive my sword through your head and watch you scream for mercy." You threatened him, before shoving him off. Jack dusted his coat, creasing out the new wrinkles you caused with what he assumed was an indifferent expression on his face - he couldn't hide the slight fear your words caused him. 

As you extended your hand out for Jack to accept, the thunderous footsteps of the redcoats just around the corner caused you both to pick your feet up and run. Jack had hopped over among the roofs, and you had run inside a blacksmith's keep. Grabbing a sword from the sleeping blacksmith, you were set to head back out when you had noticed a shadow emerge from the other side of the door. 

"Oh, bollocks," You whisper, in a panicked tone, leaping behind a wooden table somewhere far enough for cover. You heard the footsteps of someone patter across the room, shifting through some equipment before they loudly whispered,

"Not where I left you..." 

Ah, so it was a man. And judging by the sound of his voice, he was pretty young. You peered, carefully, from the table and noticed his ponytail, and his well-fitted yet a bit dirty clothes. He wasn't bad-looking, surprisingly. He tapped his foot, impatiently, before drawing out his own sword and turned to your hiding spot. Sighing in defeat, you stood up from the cramped place and stretched your arms with a lazy yawn, stalking over to him.

"You're a pirate," He spat, his sword dragging up and down the air as he gestured at you.

"I'm also a lady. Now, this can go two ways. Either you let me go and I find myself back to Jack Sparrow, or I kill you... and find myself back to Jack Sparrow." You reasoned, forcing a smile at him as you made your way to the exit. Within seconds, you felt the tip of the blade against your chin, turning your head to face him. He had a deathly glare on his face but his eyes spoke of something else. Seeing that there was no way out of this without blood being shed, you raised an eyebrow,

"Come now, love, must there be hostility? Fine then, have it your way." You spat, before dragging your sword and jabbing it towards his stomach. He deflected my attack, and swung his sword around towards your neck. Dodging backwards, you lunged forward and elbowed his gut before parrying the thrust of his sword. He fell back for a moment, catching his breath as he shook his head,

"That's cheating." He breathed out between pants.

"Well, that's life, and now help a lady out and let her escape." You snickered, prying his fingers off his sword.

"Ah, but that's where you're mistaken... you're a pirate." The young man smirked, and the front door swung open with Jack at the hands of the redcoats, a sheepish look attached to his stupid face. Glancing back to the now standing young man, you found yourself handcuffed and dragged off with Jack besides you. 

William didn't fail to notice your menacing glare as you were taken away and he let out a proud smirk at the sight. And yet, something felt wrong. In all the years as a blacksmith's apprentice, nothing had excited him as much as this encounter had. He turned to the burning furnace, his thoughts fixated on seeing you.

For one more time, at least.