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[thecompassneverlies]

Автор | Author: is unknown, sorry

[thecompassneverlies]

Title: Weaving memories

Author: doolabug

Rating: G

Summary: Jack faces his empty cabin.

[thecompassneverlies]

Sparrington & the man who has known them since these two were kids 😭♥️

[thecompassneverlies]

In vino veritas Part 2

Jack’s quarters have never felt smaller. It’s always been a sanctuary, filled with his most precious treasures, that may or may not include James but he has no intention of saying that out loud.

“Let me go!” James snarls, he’s sprawled in Jack’s bed, unfortunately still clothed and un debauched and Jack has taken the precaution to tie one of James’ hands to the bedpost. There’s no where for James to run-they are at sea but there is a desperation in James to self destruct and Jack isn’t going to take any chances.

“No,” Jack says, looking down at the map splayed on top of his desk. There’s a tempting rumour of treasure in a small inlet not far and he’s debating whether or not to chance it. The Pearl is well stocked and the crew are happy and paid-one of the only reason he’s gotten James onto the ship without a mutiny. There is little need to go anywhere or do anything.

James makes another futile tug on his bound wrist and the bed creaks ominously. James is strong and Jack likes his bed so he strolls over and places his hand over the wound on James’s wrist. Hard. James’s face goes white with pain but he doesn’t cry out. British discipline at its finest.

“Calm yerself ‘afore you do yourself a mischief” he says and stares down into deep green eyes he barely recognises. There’s so much pain there (not the physical Jack inflicted), all turned inward towards himself.

“You’ve no where to go so why not take a minute to dry yerself out. Take stock,”

“That’s rich coming from you!” James says, his voice scratchy from disuse. He sighs, looks up at the ceiling and Jack unabashedly stares at the swathe of sun darkened skin revealed by James’ ruined shirt. He’ll offer James one of his own once the boy has finished with the histrionics.

James’s chest rises and falls with one great sigh and his other hand comes to rest over his eyes.

“Just let me go back,” James says lowly.

“Ain’t nothin’ back there for ye. Thought that was clear. Maybe it’s time for a new chapter.”

“I rather think the book is over.” James says staring at a point over Jack’s shoulder at some frippery he’s hung on his wall.

Jack sits on the bed. The hand on James’s wrist running up the bunched muscles soothingly. He’s done this before when they were together in this bed. He’d unraveled under Jack’s touch then, bathed in candle light, muscles liquid and wanton in their pleasure. Now there is just misery.

“Don’t mistake the end of a chapter for the end of the book.” Jack says softly, he leans down and kisses his way up the exposed skin of James’s chest, up the column of his throat where the tendons clench at Jack’s touch. He arcs his head to encourage the touch.

“What am I if I don’t have my duty?” James gasps out, his free hand goes to Jack’s hair, tugs to direct Jack’s kisses and Jack hums in approval.

“By remembering that I serve others, Mr. Sparrow, not only myself."”

Jack remembers that line. He remembers the man who said it, dressed in all his finery, strong and sure in his superiority. But he’d seen the cracks, had exploited them first for their combined pleasure and then to James’s destruction.

“Serve yerself,” Jack murmurs into James’s collarbone, licking at the soft skin over tense muscle though it’s more to do with Jack’s touch rather then self hatred so Jack counts that as a win.

James’s mouth is still thin and unhappy, tense. Jack kisses him, smoothes out that unhappiness and James lets him because he doesn’t want to talk that much is clear but talking has always taken a back seat to this: pleasure.

James isn’t ready to take a step in any direction that much is clear but his body is more than ready to accept what Jack gives him and maybe in this hushed, private moment all they have to do is be. Here. Together.

[thecompassneverlies]

I wonder how James wears his hair under the wig? Would it be long or short? I know in DMC we see that his hair is long but that could just be him growing it out whilst he's disgraced and drunk in Tortuga.

I can imagine him wearing it shortish. That wig must be pretty itchy to wear though...

[thecompassneverlies]

[thecompassneverlies]

birdies .

another (CANON) deleted scene ->

[thecompassneverlies]

[thecompassneverlies]

There any be a day I don’t reblog some form of this scene. But today is not that day

I’m a sucker for ships where Person A is damaged and Person B is their salvation, and when you look closer, you find that Person B is damaged, as well, just in a less obvious/volatile way, and Person A is their salvation right back.

[thecompassneverlies]

Favourite Jack Sparrow Quotes (3/?)

[thecompassneverlies]

[thecompassneverlies]

Ships That Give Me All The Feels: Jack/Norrington (Pirates of the Caribbean)

“The story of you an’ your fine dead love,” she says, and Jack’s blood runs cold (colder) at the relish in her voice. “The story of you an’ he, James Norrington,” and she pronounces it like blasphemy, “who gave hisself to slaughter so Elizabeth might live.” [x]

[thecompassneverlies]

oh no i can’t stop drawing sparrington

[thecompassneverlies]

And what makes you think I need protecting?

[thecompassneverlies]

scruffy james norrington icon for dying-suffering-french-stalkers ! 

[thecompassneverlies]

[thecompassneverlies]

a thworp queen .