#Potc fanfic

[intrepidacious]

just fairer than death

summary: One night, you pull a dying sailor from the depths of the sea.

pairing: james norrington x siren!reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: set right after james' canon departure; slight dubcon because sirens; brief blood licking; i think this qualifies as soft dark? please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: crawling out of my void with this fic that absolutely no one asked for 🫶🏼 i first wrote this in may so that's how i'm doing at the moment. @brandycranby and @scrumptious-delusion thank you for actually making me finish this story, i love you both so immensely x

masterlist | read on ao3

It was said, among your kind, that there was nothing more dangerous than a sailor; for you were destined to either love him or kill him.

That is, if he did not kill you first.

Your life had already been long, then, and you’d never even seen a human up close. You’d learned to understand how the seas would change when they had to carry a ship, how the waves would moan under its weight, and you’d taken great pains to avoid watchful eyes in the dark every single time. The odds were stacked against you, and you weren’t ready to risk your life for a notion as abstract as love.

Others, you knew, had been bolder than you. Several of your sisters liked to venture out to take a closer look at a passing vessel and its crew, and some of them had never made it back afterwards. You didn’t like to think what might have happened to them.

It was worse, though, when they did return. Blood on their gills and flesh still stuck between their sharp teeth, a mad, angry, horrified look in their eyes. See what they made me do, it seemed to say. See how they conjure violence from thin air.

Passion, you learned, was a dangerous current to get caught up in.

Night fell early that day, like the goddess herself wanted to hide what was about to happen underneath a shroud of darkness. The sea was quiet. The stars were hiding as you let yourself get carried by the waves with your face turned towards an empty sky, far enough from the cursed ship to stay out of sight. The Flying Dutchman made you shiver in your scales, no matter how many times you smelled her rotten wood from afar. There was nothing good on that ship; nothing good could ever come from it.

You never knew what strange tides carried you closer. These waters had their own sense of humour, sometimes, cruel and biting like medusa venom.

A shout cut through the night, clearly audible even from where you were floating at a distance. Normally, you would’ve taken this as your sign to leave, but for some reason, you hesitated. An icy chill went through you and stopped you from slipping away into the safety of the deep. Instead, you turned your head towards the source of the sound.

Something had plummeted into the water.

You squinted. Yes, you could see several figures, their heads just bobbing above the surface as they moved hastily away from the abominable ship.

Good, you thought. Not even humans deserved the likes of Davy Jones.

Then the wind picked up. It carried the coppery stench of blood and steel mixing with seawater, and the fine hairs covering your neck stood up in response. Every cell of your body was screaming at you to flee, and yet you were unable to move, the ocean gently pushing you closer still.

You couldn’t see anything else in this murky darkness, but a few minutes passed in tense silence before you heard a hollow, ghostly laugh followed by another splash. The sea tasted of iron, too, now; and of something else.

It was that other, undetermined thing that made you swim closer against your every instinct. You were still far enough from the Dutchman to be out of sight, the tides moving in your favour, when you saw the shape in the water.

It was drifting away from the vessel as well, but in a way much more uncoordinated than the ones you’d seen earlier, barely staying afloat for another moment before the ocean swallowed it whole.

You did not hesitate this time.

Underwater, it was much easier for your eyes to make out the shape, sinking heavily as the ship’s wake pushed it down, down towards the bottom of the ocean. A muscle strained in your tail, your gills protesting as you shot through the waters to get a proper look before it fell out of sight. You still didn’t understand why.

Goddess help you, you should’ve known.

For something as terrible as a sailor, he didn’t look all that intimidating. He only looked decidedly lifeless, his eyes closed, limbs floating loosely. Blood tinted the water around him, coming from a hole in his chest that probably wasn’t supposed to be there. Then again, what did you know about humans?

You wondered if all of them looked this beautiful.

Then, like a shockwave, you remembered that they needed air to breathe.

Before you could consciously decide on it, you had grabbed the sailor under his shoulders and dragged him back up. He was heavier than a grown reef shark, unresponsive dead weight, the ocean refusing to loosen her grip on him.

Finally, you burst through the surface again, a gasp of relief escaping you when you spotted a sandbank not that far away. The Dutchman, thankfully, was far off in the distance by now. No ghostly eye saw you taking off into the opposite direction with the lifeless sailor the ship had spat out.

You couldn’t help but glance at your charge every now and again as you struggled to keep him afloat. He had lost part of his hair to the currents, and the rest of it had another colour underneath, dark like sea weeds. You could only hope that he didn’t need the upper part.

But need it for what, exactly? This man was dead; or at least mostly so. He still smelled slightly alive, and his skin was warm against yours.

"What am I doing?" you whispered to yourself as you tightened your grasp around his shoulders.

Careful, sang the waves. Do not play with things you don’t understand.

But what a ridiculous warning that was. You knew this man was in no shape to harm you, so how could your curiosity be something terrible?

After what felt like hours, your hands touched rock and sand. With great effort, you managed to heave the sailor onto it. No matter how much you scowled at the waves, his head kept rolling back under water, until you lifted yourself up and carefully put it in your lap.

Your tail was aching with exhaustion and your uncomfortable position, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Breathe, you thought, holding his face in your hands, breathe.

The sailor didn’t listen, but then again, he was mostly dead.

You could feel your heart racing as desperation started to rise. What had you done this for, then, if he refused to cling to life after all? It was as if something had possessed you, and now that you were halfway through the motions it dictated, you’d been once again left alone with your thoughts and the rush of the sea around you.

Something compelled you to push a strand of wet, dark hair away from his face. No; he didn’t look intimidating at all.

Love him or kill him.

You were a simple creature steered by fate as much as anyone, and right now, you were a helpless guppy between her fingers. You wondered what colour his eyes might be.

He was so heavy on you, like his weight was trying to remind you of the odd reality of this situation. You had no idea what to do, and so you kept staring at him.

Like small fish lured in by photophore, your fingers trailed inevitably downwards to that strange hole in his chest. Human blood smelled the same as yours, and it had the same colour, as far as you could tell; but it was warm.

Hesitantly, you pulled your hand back and licked it up.

An involuntary sigh left your lips.

Sweet. Maddeningly sweet. Even after just a few drops, you could see why your sisters would lose their minds over this. You could feel your mouth watering as you savoured the taste, your mind going blissfully blank.

This was like nothing you’d ever experienced.

Your heart was beating a frenzy as you heaved the sailor up in your lap and leaned over his chest, dipping your tongue against the hole. Each lick of blood intensified the gentle buzz in your head, a giddy lightness spreading through your limbs, your chest, your very core.

Just before you lost yourself entirely to this sensation, you heard a low rumbling noise. Gurgling, like stuck water. The sound faded again almost instantly.

Around you, the wind picked up, the waves rumbling menacingly, and you looked up to see the clouds darkening overhead. A storm was coming, after all.

You went to continue your meal and found that the hole had closed up.  Soft, reddened skin covered it like it had never been there in the first place. Only a small, shimmering scar remained, and you traced your fingers along it in wistful wonderment, blinking as you wiped your mouth and came to your senses again.

How strange, indeed.

Still, your appetite had been wet, now. You looked at the sailor’s face again, craving more of his sweetness. Maybe …

Slowly, you brushed your lips against his, breathing into him as you carefully nipped at his flesh. He tasted like the sea, here, salt and brine and something else entirely, something that made you press closer as you exhaled into him.

Perfect, you thought because you’d never felt anything so true, all things falling into place for the first time in your life. It sent a pleasant tingle up your spine.

A sound again; this time, it reverberated in your mouth. The sea lashed at you but you ignored it, pushing into the noise as if going to smother it, and then something moved in your lap and the mostly dead sailor grunted weakly against your lips.

You flinched backwards as he sputtered before you, his entire body convulsing as he coughed up seawater and blood. Each rattled breath ended with another fit of coughs until finally, he calmed, slumping back into his previous position in your lap.

It was then, for the first time, that he opened his eyes.

They were green, green like the deep sea on a particularly fine day, green like a palm leaf on the beach at Whitecap Bay, green like shards of smooth seaglass, polished and shimmering. Even in the darkness, they were bright, and they were looking up at you in confusion.

You were confused, too. Something very odd was happening, and so you leaned in and you did the only thing your mind could think of at that moment. You pressed your lips against his once more.

Again, you were filled with that feeling of rightness as you pressed closer, as his mouth gently moved against yours as if in an unheard question before answering you in equal. Yes, yes.

You didn’t understand but this was the way things should be, how they were always meant to go, how—

Cool hands pulled your face away and an involuntary whine escaped you. The sea green eyes had darkened, softened, and they blinked at you several times before the sailor asked, "Am I dead?"

"Not anymore," you said, making to move closer again. He didn’t let you, his hand solid against your cheek.

"I don’t—I’m not sure what happened." His voice was hoarse with the salt of the ocean. His thumb kept tracing your cheekbone like he wasn’t able to comprehend you were actually here. "I thought I was dead."

"Does it matter?" you asked. Your voice was gaining a sing-songy quality entirely of its own accord, and it made his seaglass eyes glaze over a little.

He made to sit up and even though some deep, primal instinct didn’t want him to withdraw even a little, you helped steady his shaking arms until he was upright. Still, your tail was relieved at the lifted weight, giving an involuntary spasm that splashed in the water.

The sailor barely seemed to notice, even as he looked around at his surroundings. The wind howled and dark waves kept lapping at his legs as he tried to get his bearings.

It was a long time before his eyes settled on you again.

"Who are you?" he said, and there was wonder in his voice, incredulity.

Beautiful, you thought again.

You told him your name, quickly, without even thinking about it. Your kind wasn’t usually supposed to share this information; names held power, after all. But this was different. He was different.

"What about you, sailor?" you asked softly. "What do they call you?"

"I … James," he said, his brow furrowed in concentration, like he wasn’t all that sure at all. "Admiral James Norrington of the EC … the EITC. I think."

"Don’t think," you said, putting a hand on his chest. You could feel his heartbeat in there, fast enough for it to sound as if he, like some creatures, had three of them. Unlikely, of course, but what did you know?

In time, he might spare one of them for you.

For some reason, that thought didn’t shock you.

"I should …" he said, his eyes half-shut again. You wanted to kiss away that frown. You wondered if his smile was as magnificent as you imagined, hidden somewhere beneath that stern face. "There was something … someone …"

It broke your heart, the way that worry weighed on him. You needed to take care of him. Take him somewhere safe, somewhere he could rest.

"Don’t worry, James Norrington," you said gently, slowly leaning in once more; he didn’t stop you. "It’s going to be all right."

This time, when your mouths connected, he sighed, like he was letting go of whatever burden his memory was trying to remind him of. This time, his arms came around you and wrapped tightly around your shoulders so that when you slipped into the water, he clung to you, your lips still moving in perfect tandem. He tasted divine.

Yes, you thought, maybe there was a point to these stories about sailors after all.

But this one … he was good. He was yours.

And you intended to keep him.

thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!! remember to stay hydrated and reblog the fics you read to make a writer smile today 💛

[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.

[esta-elavaris]

WICKED GAME FINAL CHAPTER IS UP

8k words, most of 'em filthy xoxo

Feels so good to finally cross a project off the list!! Enjoy!!

[comicsofthecaribbean]

Ahoy! Trying to finally get this ball rolling on this--but have run into some complications with work. I've redrawn Elizabeth's cover art and created Will's, and have also begun the first draft of the of the first chapter.

I've also set up a Ko-Fi with a gallery that is gathering the art I'm making for this project together.

You're not under any obligation to donate! However it would help me a ton since I'm needing to invest in digital ship models to help me draw out the scenes involving the different seafaring vessels involved in the storyline, software licenses and the like.

Thanks and have a happy Will Turner Wednesday!

[justafairytailofinnocence]

How about Barbossa is crying (you choose the reason, no Carina or Margaret though) and the reader has to comfort him?

Hello dear, sorry this took so long but here you go. I did read about Hector once owning a capuchin called polly who drowned, so i went with that 😁 hope you enjoy. Comments, feedbacks and reblogs are appreciated ✨️🐒🍏.

The night pressed on as the black pearl sailed through the briny calming waters. The candlelight flickered within the room, illuminating light. The room was surrounded by dabloons, gold, and silver and gold cobs, rolling around tinking as they touched one another.

Captain Barbossa's finger followed along the parchment containing the coordinates to Cortes's treasure. He used the dividers to measure the distance between the ship and location. He picked up an astrolabe, determining the latitude of where the coordinates led. Only his—gaze fell upon a familiar piece of fabric.

The piece of fabric was a dress, sewn that couldn't match an adult woman—but rather a small child. The fabric had frills and beautiful embroidery that it would've been presumed to be woven for a noble lady or lord. One could only guess. There was something tragic behind that gown, something cursed that no sailor would touch.

Barbossa, the captain of the ship, had a moment. His cold egotistical gaze faltering. He dropped the dividers, picking up the small gown fitted for a royal. Tracing his fingers along the soft silk. His weathered eyes narrowed as his aging face scrunched with sorrow. Salty droplets fell from the corner of his eyes onto the blackened oaken floor.

He brought the fabric closely to the temple of his forehead quietly, sobbing. His hoarse voice hitching in sync.

You were asked by the first mate, black dog birar, for a heading, seeing if you needed to change course. You were a master gunner, having experience with artillery, canons, and gunpowder.

Seeing as you trailed up the ladder onto the stern quarterdeck. You knocked lightly on the door. Standing back, you heard no response. You didn't want to disturb him, knowing it might result in you getting three lashes but—you needed an answer.

You placed your head against the glass, seeing if the captain was even inside. Your gaze could make out a figure hunched over on a chair. Curious, you gently turned the handles. Entering inside.

Your hushed footsteps stopped behind him. It became clearer now what he was doing. Crying. Crying!?

Your eyes widened with astoundment—softening seconds later.

You hadn't really seen Barbossa cry before—or ever for that matter. This was serious. And you were the first to witness it.

You weren't really great with comforting people. You couldn't stand the thought of weakness. You had a ship to man for Neptune's sake. You weren't there to baby men.

This was different however, a situation you'd never thought you see the day of light for.

Quietly, you approached the captain, placing your hand on the fabric of his shoulder. Mistake made.

Barbossa gnashed his teeth together, hoisting his rapier to your gullet. You could feel the pointy end gently press further but not enough to cause a cut. "State yer presence upon me quarters or I'll have ye flogged fer trespassing, ye cackhanded roach."

He didn't even hide it. His weathered eyes were red, puffy, and his cheeks and nose were bright with a rosey hue. You could mistake him from having a cold. You didn't question it. Instead, you ask. "Cap'n I ask only of honesty from me and the crew, have we a heading for our next change of course. We've been sailing the caspian seas for near a month now."

His raspy voice cracked, intimidating you. "Aye, we ave' our headin' missy/mister/sailor, now begone from me sight lest ye want all limbs in tact."

You knew him since the moment you first served under his command. No one else was close to him but you.

Your gaze caught sight of the small gown "cap'n as your ally, closest mate in arms, I must ask, I be worried, I can see it in your face, hangin' the jib, it wouldn't take a blind eye to see what's eatin' at your thoughts."

Instead of shooting you, he gave in and allowed you in his cabin, slamming the door behind and sitting at his dining table with his legs apart. You were even shocked at how he hadn't eaten, Barbossa not eating something was like when hell would freeze over.

He grabbed the fabric, placing it delicately on the furnished table. It was clear whoever previously owned this small gown, he expressed great care for.

Had he gone mad? Was it a lover's tale—couldn't be. Based on the size of the gown, it was small enough to fit a child. A daughter, perhaps? Had he lost a daughter?

He then came clean as he unleashed the wrath of his washy sorrows onto you. "Thar was once this—lass ye see, a lass no finer than anyone could've imagined, a loyal thin' she was, far more valuable than any jewell or treasure can hold."

"Was it, your daughter cap'n?" You asked.

"Daughter? nay, be bad luck fer a woman to be on board." Though that was contradictory, considering he had you but—you let that reason slide. Was a silly superstition that made your blood boil at times.

"She was not of man, nor lady, she was a capuchin'—polly."

That's when it hit you like a pile of bricks. How could you forget. Hector once had a pet capuchin called polly. He treated that monkey like it was his world, more than he did with his own crew.

He doted polly day and night, even if it was a little unusual like a man with a dog. He would feed her and constantly have polly around his shoulders. Sweet little thing was far more friendlier than half the sailors in tortuga.

The day polly drowned was the day a peice of him died with her. They held a funeral on the ship and, at any mention of her name, would be the shattering moment of his ego.

He wasn't soft by any means, but that capuchin meant more than himself.

And who can blame him? Any animal dying was a loss you couldn't get over in a flash.

You lept to your feet and hugged the poor man. He was human, after all. Many forget that. You squeezed hum tighter as he was in shock held his hands out.

"I can't bring er' back, but I am here when you need to talk, i can't fix anythin' but, i can listen an' That's all ye really need." You whispered.

In response, he gently squeezed you back. Sharing a moment of solace and comfort. You reassured him, and that's all he ever needed.

He was thankful to have you by his side. For better or worse.

Requests open✨️

[quillofspirit]

2023 fic recs

If there's one thing to know about me, is that I love to read! and I love to share the good fics, so I figured I would put them all on one list💚

pssst! it's my first time doing anything like this, so if you have recommendations for the format, please do leave them in the comments or drop me a message! thanks xx

Key 🍬 fluff 🧯 spicy 🌡️ smut ⛈️ angst 🌪️ all

For people I have tagged, please let me know if there is anything you’d like me to add or remove — like a link to another account. It’ll be my pleasure☺️

Lord of the Rings (and related)

⛈️🧯Fuck the Forbidden pt. 1 by @entishramblings

Boromir x mermaidfem!oc Teens and Up but read the warnings carefully 9,500 words

Now I want mermaids in everything. why aren’t there mermaids in everything? The descriptions are so well done, everything is so vividly easy to visualize, oh I just loved it.

I am so hyped for pt 2!!

🍬⛈️ Healing Touch by @ass-deep-in-demons

Boromir x fem!oc Teens and Up 4,350 words

My film studies degree was very happy about the descriptions of movement in this one - it’s a little specific but hear me out. It’s much easier to see the actors playing the scene when it’s described this well! THAT ENDING, I have to say I joined Legolas, and I don’t have excuses.

I cannot wait to read the rest of the adventures of Joanna!

🍬 I Might Need to Kiss You by @fizzyxcustard

Thorin Oakenshield x fem!reader 400 words

I was squealing, this is so sweet. like the perfect little pick me up when you need a reminder, and Thorin is nothing if not a good king to his subjects 😇

🍬 Sweet Conversations by @glassgulls

Haldir x fem!reader Teens and Up 5,360 words

did I almost break my mouse when I clicked on this? noooo

Would I do it again? approximately 5 times since ☺️

Who doesn’t love sneaking around and kissing pretty elves, especially when they propose the idea so nicely… Just read it, you’re welcome

⛈️🧯Transformed by @sotwk

Thranduil’s son OC x fem!reader Teens and Up 2,400 words

There are at least two werewolves! When I tell you I read it three nights in a row, just to truly catch all the little things that made me go absolutely feral this so lovely to read. Yes, there’s gore (only a little bit) and there’s angst, but there’s also dialogue that would be made into gifs were it a movie.

Pirates of the Caribbeans

🌪️Catch the Wind by eriathiel (@esta-elavaris)

James Norrington x fem!oc Explicit 418,000 words

101 chapters of epic, pirates, and sweetness. The definition of you will suffer and you will like it. I finished this in like two days, because I couldn’t put it down, like a child on Halloween night going through their whole bag of candy.

⛈️🍬 Fallen Through Time by eriathiel (@esta-elavaris)

Catch the Wind AU Mature Ongoing; 34,000 words

12 Chapters so far, but it’s probably going to make me want to read everything about Theodora again. I am very normal about this character. 😌

Other fandoms

🌡️One of Those days by @capricornafterdark

Jason Todd x fem!reader Explicit 750 words

Sometimes you need to be taken care of, and sometimes its easier to take care of others.

🍬Patience by @velvetcloxds

Charlie Swan x fem!reader Just straight cuteness 600 words

A cute yet serious conversation with Charlie

🌡️That Takes Trust Darlin by @capricornafterdark

Jason Todd x transmasc!reader Explicit 1,950 words

It takes a lot of trust to tell a person about your desires, and even more when you spend your time catching villains.

🌪️ What Happens After You? by StrengthBeforeWeakness

Ominis Gaunt x fem!oc Mature 219,000 words

A badass Ravenclaw, sweet sweet Garreth, and dark!Sebastian. I am tempted to say it’s almost a Hogwarts Legacy AU because the lore in this fic is so incredible, it feels new again.

These are my headers and dividers, please do not use them.

[imaginepirates]

I love your take on potc characters and your headcanons for them. It’s just amazing. If it’s not a bother, I was wondering how do you think those characters would be as a parent? I mean we haven’t seen much parenting even for those that had kids in canon.

Ok so I actually have a few posts about this for James (hc)(hc)(hc) and Barbossa (fic) but! I can always expand. I also have one for Beckett (hc) since I'm obsessed with the idea.

Jack – Oh god. This is such an interesting question, because I firmly believe that Jack is actively against having children. He really and truly cannot fathom the idea of having kids of his own and being torn between caring for them on land where they can lead good lives and being at sea where he himself is happy. It’s a moral conflict he just can’t bring himself to face. His idea of what a child’s life should be like is shaped by his relationship with Teague and the ways in which he recognizes his own childhood lacked structure and support. He knows he can’t be the parent he needed when he was younger, and is thus against having children at all. If he were to have kids of his own, he would have to make the painstaking decision to leave them on land. A pirate ship is no place to raise a child; it’s dangerous and unpredictable. In his eyes, the best place for a kid to grow up is in a place of more stability, where they might have a better chance at finding a legitimate profession and keep themselves out of the trouble Jack has lived in his whole life. Rather than having biological kids, I can more see him acting as a sort of father-figure to a lot of young boys who end up working on the Pearl, teaching them the ropes and watching as they grow in their abilities and confidence.

Elizabeth – Elizabeth would be an interesting parent to have, for sure. I think her relationship with motherhood would be something very complex. For one, she has nothing to go off of, having had no mother of her own for most of her life. With her father gone, she can’t ask his advice, either. She’s such a fiercely independent and active person, too, that mothering may feel like an obstacle for her sometimes. That being said, I think she loves her children dearly and wants to do her absolute best for them. She teaches them all she knows—from proper behavior at formal functions to sword-fighting multiple enemies at once. She’s going to have the most well-rounded kids of all time, tbh. I’ve always kept this image in my mind of her showing up to a meeting of the Brethren Court with a kid just strapped to her front in a sling across her chest, and nobody says a damn thing. This also works as a method of volume control because nobody dares raise their voice and make the baby cry. I have an intrinsic need to see this happen, actually. I love the idea of her kids having pirate baby-sitters half the time when she needs to do something dangerous; Pintel and Ragetti act as honorary uncles, Barbossa as a granddad. Jack is the wine aunt. In all, her kids probably lead a kind of busy, chaotic life with people coming and going throughout their childhoods, but they have ties to an abundance of people who simply adore them. 

James – The most devoted, doting father ever. James is terrified to mess things up as a parent, and is always worrying that he won’t be any good at it. He adores his children and has unparalleled dedication to them. He wants them to have a good scholarly education, something he never had, but if they choose the military over school, he’ll personally oversee as much of their training as he can. He’s a deeply caring father, too. Though not good at expressing his own feelings, he’ll do anything for his children when they need him. He wants them to feel safe when coming to him, something he could never do with his own father. He makes sure to spend quality time with his kids doing things that aren’t school or work, instead playing games or taking them out riding or reading to them. When the kids are young, he’ll take naps with them on his chest, holding them close. He recognizes that he may have to be absent for long periods of time due to the nature of his job, and it tears at him. His greatest fear is going to sea for months while his children are still relatively little and coming home to find that they don’t remember him. Thus, he works hard to be as present as possible while he’s home, wanting desperately to make a positive impact on their lives. 

Will – Honestly, I feel like Will would make the most sane parent. After resolving things with his own father, he’s one of the people with the fewest daddy issues, and actually has a dad to ask questions of when he needs advice. Will feels like a very relaxed parent, not putting a lot of pressure on his kids. He was poor for most of his life, and though he wants better for his children than he had for himself, he also knows that happiness can be found working simple jobs. He’s very open to his children’s wishes and interests, and he’ll support them in pretty much damn anything. He definitely advises not becoming a pirate, though. Assuming the curse has lifted for him by the time he has children, he spends a lot of time with them. If it hasn’t, then he exploits loopholes and just has his kids come aboard the Dutchman as often as possible. He wants to be a presence in the lives of his children, and takes active steps to ensure it. I think he’s a little in awe as he watches them grow up, so impressed by all the things they accomplish, doing things he’d never even dreamed of when he was their age. He’s their number one hype man, too. 

Beckett – I have…feelings about Beckett as a father. He’s not a particularly present one, given that he has zero knowledge on how to take care of kids. There’s a nanny, no question. He doesn’t really know how to properly bond with his children, but does ensure that they get the best education possible and that they have access to a wealth of resources. Especially as the children start to get older and enter society properly, he has a good time with them making snarky commentary about the social scene. Sass is the name of the game. Speaking of games, I do see him as the type to enjoy chess, and he feels a wave of pride whenever his kids beat him. He’s overprotective and possessive—he refuses to let his children suffer in fear as he did when he was their age. He has Mercer with them as a bodyguard whenever they leave the house. If anything happens to his kids, Beckett is not above having the person responsible killed. I think he has a certain terror of being alone, and though he’s not the best at socializing with his children, he never truly wants them to leave.  

Barbossa – Hector is another doting father. He’s led a rough life, and though he doesn’t want that for his children, he’s not above taking them to sea when they grow old enough to sail. Before that, though, he leaves them on land with someone else, coming to visit every so often bearing gifts from all the places he’s been in the meantime. He can afford some degree of comfort for his children, too, and he certainly doesn’t spare that expense—if he can’t be there for his children, they’ll want for nothing else, dammit. Barbossa can’t give up his pirating ways to raise his kids on land himself, which is unfortunate, but the truth. If they do choose to go to sea, he takes them on as cabin-boys (or girls, he doesn’t give a fuck), and lets them learn and progress just like everyone else. I think he’d be happy to have them around, though a little concerned for their welfare. He knows better than anyone how dangerous a life at sea can be. Still, he isn’t too worried; he’s a realist if nothing else, and knows that there are chances for both good and bad. He puts effort into teaching his children and making sure they’re safe and cared for, but he’s a bit more hands-off than some of the others so his kids don’t feel like they’re suffocating. He lets them learn things for themselves, but makes sure they know they always have a (sort of) stable place to return to should they need it. 

(also, if there’s anyone else you’d like to see for this, I think I could probably expand on the list)

[swannposting]

final chapter has been posted!! <3

[mimilind]

The Stowaway Passenger - Part 1

Pairing: Will Turner x Reader

Rating: T

Chapter Word Count: 1950

Parts: [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

⚔ ⚔ ⚔

1. Stowaway

It was only the first day after you left Port Royal, and you had never felt this sick in your life. The smell had much to do with it, closely followed by the torturous heat, the rolling motions of the ship and the pitch darkness in the cargo hold. Had you known the stout freight ship you had chosen for your escape would carry salted fish, you may have thought twice about boarding it, but there was no going back now. 

If you survived this, you would be free at last; that was worth any discomfort. And at least you had not thrown up – yet.

You heard a squeaking sound and the hatch opened above you. Cowering behind a crate, you tried to make yourself as tiny as possible, holding your breath.

A tendril of light illuminated your surroundings slightly, and you heard steps on the ladder. A loud, rough voice called down: “Move all the crates from that side to the other. And get on with it, or I’ll make the boatswain whip yer. Lazy bilgerat!” 

The hatch shut with a loud wham, and darkness returned. No, not quite. Whomever had been sent down the ladder carried a lantern. You could hear them swear under their breath, obviously annoyed at getting such a meaningless task. 

Then it struck you that their task would put you in danger of discovery, and with a pounding heart you hoped they would refuse doing it. 

Sadly, you had no such luck. Within moments, you heard grunts and ragged panting as the unlucky sailor began to push the boxes over the wooden deck.

If only you could fit inside one of the crates! But they were nailed firmly shut.

The sounds grew closer as the sailor worked their way towards you, and the light brighter. A whiff of musk hit your nose. To your surprise, it smelled pleasant. Being brought up in a fine home, you had never been this close to a working man, and in other circumstances it might have made you curious. 

Not now, however. You were too afraid. Any moment now they would find you, and drag you up to the captain, and what would he do then? Beat you? Keelhaul you? Or… maybe he would force you to walk the plank – pushing you off the ship, bound hands and feet.

Probably not the latter, you thought. You were too easily recognizable as a rich person in your fine clothes, and the captain would realize your family might pay him to get you back in one piece. 

Your father would pay, you knew that. If it became known what you had done, it would ruin your family’s status in society forever. Especially considering how long and hard he had worked to procure your marriage.

That marriage… Just the thought of your intended made bile rise in your throat. Going back was not an option. If you were discovered, you must make sure this sailor helped you remain hidden at any cost!

The crate you were hiding behind moved, and you heard a breathless voice: “What the heck?” 

His lantern blinded you, so you could not see what he looked like, but you prayed inwardly he was a kind man.

“Shh,” you whispered, a finger against your lips. “Please…”

He moved the lantern closer, moving it up and down as he regarded you. “Who are you?” he murmured after what felt like an eternity, and thank goodness, he kept his voice down! 

“I’m someone who needs to escape,” you pleaded. “Can you pretend you never saw me?”

“What’s the point? We’ll make land soon, picking up more cargo. You’ll be found then, if not sooner.” 

Darn. Darn darn darn! 

“I thought this ship was heading for Europe!” you hissed, despair filling you.

“It is, eventually. But not until the hold’s full.” The sailor placed the lantern on a crate, and for the first time you could see his face. He was a handsome, youngish looking man, a little over twenty-five perhaps. But what caught you off guard was the fact that he only wore a pair of short, cotton breeches. 

You tried hard not to stare at his exposed chest, but could not avoid noticing how muscular he was, and how the moisture from his previous exertion made his tanned skin almost glow in the lamplight.

“I’m screwed,” you muttered. 

“What are you running from?” he asked curiously.

“Marriage,” you admitted. “My father found a spouse for me. Rich and important. But I just…” You sighed. “I just couldn’t. Not without love.”

“I understand.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “I’m kind of running away too… I was engaged to the woman I had pined after since childhood, but once it was settled, I realized I’d grown out of love. Somehow, by all the hardship we endured to get each other, we had changed.” His dark eyes filled with sadness. Then he straightened up. “I must continue working, or the captain will have my hide.”

“Need help?” you heard yourself offer, though you had not done an honest day’s work in your life before.

The sailor looked at your clean, smooth hands and embroidered clothes, and his lips twitched. “Sure.” He held out a dirty fist to you. “I’m Will, by the way. Will Turner.”

His hand was warm and felt strong when you shook it and told him your name. 

Hearing your surname, Will whistled silently. “Good Lord. I imagine there’s quite a bounty to be had, if the captain brings you back to Port Royal.”

You stared at him, bitterly regretting exposing yourself. “Please…” you whispered, earnestly shaking your head.

“No worries.” His grip on your hand hardened. “Even if I were that cruel, I’d not give the captain the satisfaction. He’s probably the worst captain I’ve known. I hate his guts, but sadly this was the only ship hiring, and I just had to get out of there.”

Breathing out in relief, you pressed his hand in return. “Thank you. I mean it.” 

Your eyes met, and suddenly the air felt even hotter than before. You found it hard to breathe and quickly dropped your gaze. “Let’s work then,” you said lamely.

The crates were ridiculously heavy, but by the time you had managed to push one to the other side, Will had already moved three of them. 

“How can you do it so fast?” you panted, feeling every muscle in your body protest as you began on another crate.

“I used to be a blacksmith.” He smirked.

No wonder he was so fit, you thought, appreciatively glancing at his broad shoulders when he had his back turned. You felt a flutter of excitement deep within.

When the work was done, you were exhausted and flopped down on a box with shaking arms and legs.

“Thanks for the assistance,” said Will, though he obviously knew you had not done much to ease his task. “I like your spirit. Perhaps I should help you in return.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful! But how?”

“I think you could pass as a deckhand, if you borrow some spare clothes from me. The captain is a lazy lout, and can hardly write. He doesn’t know the names of half the crew he hired.”

“But don’t you think my name would give me away? What if he’s heard of me before?”

“True. Then let’s call you…” He glanced at the crates and grinned. “Casey. Or Carter?”

“Casey Carter sounds good.” You grinned back. 

You hid behind the crates again while Will climbed back up, promising to return at night with clothes you could borrow. It would be easier for you to sneak out unnoticed in the protection of darkness.

While waiting, you thought about what you were about to do, and slowly the courage left you. You were a rich brat, with a weak body and no experience of hard labor, and suddenly you felt sure the other sailors would see through your cover immediately and call you out. And what about your seasickness? If you threw up in front of a bunch of rowdy seamen you would probably die of shame. And then you would die again when the captain tossed you overboard.

When Will returned after a few hours, you had bit your nails down to the quick and was a nervous wreck.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” you whispered shakily.

“No worries. I’ll look out for you.” He smiled encouragingly. Such an attractive smile he had!

“Why are you so kind to a stranger?” you asked. 

“I told you. I like your spirit.” He squeezed your shoulder.

The clothes Will had brought were a typical sailor’s outfit with breeches, an offwhite shirt and a vest, and a scarf to tie back your hair with. You changed behind the crates, though you told yourself you were being silly, really – your underwear covered almost all of you, and besides, had he not exposed his bare chest to you before? Soon you would share living quarters with the rest of the crew, and you would have to get used to showing a little skin. 

The clothes were not too dirty, but not freshly laundered either like you were used to. You did not mind; on the contrary, you liked the exotic, masculine scent impregnated in the garments. You knew Will had worn them.

When you returned to the circle of lamplight, you looked down at yourself critically, thankful the shirt was loose with long sleeves and covered your body effectively. You hoped it was not too obvious you were no real sailor.

There was a glint in Will’s eyes as he regarded you. “Looking good.”

Before you left the cargo hold, he explained to you the work you would do as a deckhand; mostly cleaning the deck and performing lesser chores, and when the ship reached the next port, help carry goods aboard. Will would make sure you were not assigned complicated tasks such as raising sails or climbing the rigging.

You went up the ladder, Will first and you closely behind. He cautiously peeked out before allowing you up. 

“Coast is clear,” he whispered, taking your hand to help you.

You drew in a deep breath of the cool night air. How wonderful to be out of that horrible hole!

Will did not release your hand. With you in tow he sneaked over the deserted deck until you came to another hatch, which led to the sleeping quarters. You descended a new ladder, and your stomach sank as you realized the respite from the stuffy, stinking cargo hold had been short lived; here it was almost equally bad, although the stench of salted fish was replaced with that of unwashed humans. 

The area was crammed with sleeping people, snoring away in hammocks hanging from the low ceiling. The floor underneath was no less crowded; littered with seaman’s chests, bags, used clothes and, in a corner, a stinking bucket which you suspected you as a deckhand would be assigned to empty. 

“Where do I sleep?” you breathed in Will’s ear. 

Instead of replying, he pulled you with him to one side, where two empty hammocks hung very close together. “It will be a bit tight, but there was not much room left.” His breath tickled your neck when he whispered.

You nodded, and gratefully accepted his offer to help you get up. He placed his hands on your waist and promptly lifted you onto the swinging bed, as if you weighed hardly anything.

The hammocks were so close you could feel his body heat next to yours when he lay down, but in this strange and frightening situation, that only made you feel safe.

⚔ ⚔ ⚔

Parts: [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

[intrepidacious]

when reality sets back in

summary: You used to dream of marrying James when you were younger. Today, he's come to offer his congratulations.

pairing: james norrington x f!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst and mutual pining; arranged marriage (but not between reader and james) please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: 42. a kiss to celebrate an engagement

a/n: before tumblr ate all of ren's asks i remember her sending in this prompt and requesting that it hurt. i don't remember which character it was supposed to be for but i think i accomplished that.

masterlist | read on ao3

As soon as you stepped outside and the noise of the banquet hall faded into the background, you felt like you could breathe again.

It was a lovely evening, pleasantly warm for London at this time of year. A soothing breeze caught in the fabric of your skirts and made them billow. You stepped away from the terrace doors, moving into the shadows closer to the balustrade, out of sight of anyone just wandering past.

Leaning against the cool stone, you let out a long sigh.

Ignoring the city’s usual stench, the city was quite beautiful in the light of the setting sun.  The river sparkled in the low light, and lanterns were being lit in the streets below, making them flicker with a warm orangey glow.

"I don’t recall the last time I’ve seen you quite this satisfied."

You’d have flinched had it been any other voice behind you. With this one, though, you smiled. "James."

He looked taken aback for a second when you turned to face him, meeting your eyes for just a moment before lowering his head. "Milady."

Your heart fluttered a little when you laughed, an old familiar reaction. "Really? After all this time, Commodore?"

It was almost hidden in the shadows around his face, but you knew him well enough to tell he was hiding a smile of his own. "It’s only proper we start at some point, don’t you think?"

You hummed noncommittally, taking your time looking at him. It had been so long since you saw him last, and yet you felt like it had been mere moments. "I didn’t know you were back in the country."

"Well, I couldn’t have missed your engagement, now, could I?"

Of course. That was the entire reason for the elaborate feast tonight, after all; you’d finally agreed to the match your parents had been gently pushing you to make for ages.

It wasn’t that your future husband wasn’t a good man. He was gentler than most, tall and handsome, and willing to let you keep a good portion of your independence even in marriage as long as you honoured his name and reputation in public. In time, you were sure you’d grow to love him, even.

You’d live out the rest of your days comfortable and reasonably happy.

Still, your hand wanted to reach towards the man you’d always secretly hoped would ask for it first. Wanted to trace the frown line between his brows, the stubble on his chin he missed while shaving, the sharp line of his jaw. He met your gaze with something unspoken in his eyes, like he could see exactly what it was you were craving.

But James Norrington had never once crossed a line with you like that, and you weren’t about to embarrass yourself with an action as improper as that. You clutched your hands in front of you and turned towards the view once more.

"I suppose not," you said quietly, your smile frozen in place now.

He cleared his throat as he stepped up besides you. "Besides, I’m being summoned to Court."

"Nothing bad, I hope?"

"Don’t worry about me." There was a weary quality to his voice you were unfamiliar with. Perhaps, you thought, it had been too long after all.

"You know me," you said with forced lightness, because for the first time, you thought he might not. "I always do."

James lowered his head again, and you weren’t sure what thoughts clouded his mind too much to register the open concern on your face. For a while, you kept quiet, debating with yourself as to how to take up the conversation again.

In the end, you resigned. "How are things overseas?"

"Interesting."

"I bet," you said, words continuing to fall out of your mouth. "Everything’s always the same here. You must have the most fantastical stories."

"Perhaps." If possible, he seemed even more distant than before.

Look at me, you begged silently, even though you’d long since forsaken any right to his attention.

"Did you bring your fiancée?" you made a desperate last attempt. "You must introduce us."

You’d never met Elizabeth Swann yourself, but all of London’s society was agreed that she was both beautiful and intelligent. Someone with the right qualities, the right social standing for someone like James; someone he’d want to look at constantly.

"Ah," he said, not quite a scoff; a last ebb of emotion. "No fiancée, I’m afraid."

"What happened?"

At last, he turned towards you, looking at you as though he was letting himself see you for the first time. "It emerged that our hearts weren’t quite aligned."

Something panged painfully in your chest at those words, the ring on your finger very sharp and heavy all of a sudden. "I’m terribly sorry."

"Don’t be. It was a nice dream. Besides, today is a day of celebration, isn’t it?" he gave you a tired smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

You’d always loved James Norrington’s eyes. When you were younger, you wanted to drown in them every second of every day for the rest of your life. That had been a nice dream, too. But in real life, women like you had to make a strategic match, and your parents would never have let you leave England.

The invisible thing between you seemed to whir as he looked at you, but neither of you dared to speak it into existence, even now. It was too precious to be bound into words.

A chill went through you.

"You’re cold," James remarked, blinking. "I should leave you to return to your betrothed."

The air seemed to grow even colder. "Already?"

"I was only going to call upon you for a short while." He hesitated, then reached out for your hand. "My sincerest congratulations, Mrs Hamilton."

He pressed his lips to your knuckles reverently, holding your gaze while still keeping that damn respectful distance between your bodies. You were frozen to the spot, lost to the depth of his eyes and the things left unsaid.

"Thank you," you whispered when he finally lowered your hand once again, his thumb ghosting across your fingers before he let go and the ice returned to your bones. The chatter returned to the background.

Life went on.

You pressed your lips together as he turned to take his leave, but your heart was still pounding wildly, making you follow him, "James!"

He stopped, and you realised you’d grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, holding onto the thick brocade like you could spin it around your fingers and keep him tethered to you. Your voice was shaking. "Will I see you again?"

For a moment, you dared to hope; to dream again, for a beautiful couple of seconds.

He swallowed, his hands clenching into fists once before letting go.

"Of course, darling."

James Norrington had never lied to you before, and maybe it was because of that you knew he wasn’t telling you the truth this time; only what you desperately wanted to hear.

You let him leave, and that dream of yours cracked more and more with each step he took away from you, leaving reality covered in broken pieces.

He did not turn back.

thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 💛

[socksracoon10]

Pirate

Pairing: Will Turner x F!Reader, Jack Sparrow x F!Reader (Platonic) Read The Second Part: Not Just A Pirate

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.

[esta-elavaris]

A/N: So, this is the same OC that I wrote with Beckett a little over a year ago, but I have since begun another full-length (non-Beckett) fic that features an OC with the name I’m using in that, so this OC used to be Cora, and is now Clara. So totally different. The depths of my imagination continues to induce awe.

Also a disclaimer – what little I know of the British peerage system is more around hierarchy, and what I have gleaned via excessive period drama consumption. There will be flaws here. I am mildly sorry for them x

Was there anything more tedious than the festive season?

That wasn’t a rhetorical question – for the answer was yes, and Clara was discovering that first-hand. Guests during the festive season. Especially when one was an eligible young bachelorette, with already two seasons under her belt and no husband. At least her mother was despairing. That was rather funny. Though she kept that from her face and tongue both.

It was just so ridiculous. Had she dragged herself through two seasons with no offers, she might be worrying herself, but there had been offers, they just weren’t particularly good ones – not by her own reckoning, at least. They had money, yes, and social standing, of course, but they were so boring. Smiling, tittering, flattering, agreeing with every word that came out of her mouth until she wanted to ram her head through the nearest window just to wipe the insipid smiles from their faces.

 They’d give an opinion on something, anything, only to then immediately switch their previously very firm stance the moment she disagreed. They’d declare they much preferred summer over winter, she’d declare an adoration for the cold just to be difficult, and in the next second they’d be wittering on about how summer was intolerable and how they could not wait for a chill to return to the air. She’d make a terrible joke, and they’d laugh like they’d never heard anything funnier. Sometimes she even turned it into a game, seeing what she could make them laugh at, stripping them of what little dignity they had one quip at a time, and at least that was amusing. For a while.

But over the festive season, she was at least free of it. Ordinarily. But her mother’s despair had driven her to desperation, and now they had guests for Christmas. And really, what sort of desperate creature came to visit someone who wasn’t family at this time of year? Was this to be the sort of man she’d be foisted upon? It was lucky that her father was so fond of her as he was, or else she’d be being fitted for wedding dresses before the New Year was even upon them – but even his patience had its limits, and she doubted it would extend past a third season. There was eccentricity, and then there was stupidity.

So, she found herself garbed in golden florals – not the mulberry silks her mother had wished for – on the front steps of their country manor, alongside all of the servants, and her parents, watching as the carriage trundled up the path. This gown wasn’t her best, not with her colouring, but that was deliberate. She’d tempt the fool either way, so why bother making the effort? It also had the effect of making her look far more girlish than she truly was, which was good. Let him think she was a little idiot, ready to simper and smile at his every look. Let her enjoy the look of realisation on his face when he realised that he was wrong, far too late.

The drew to a halt at the centre of the drive and a footman stepped forth, opening the door. Out stepped Lord Warrington, their invited guest, and after him...well, it had to be Lord Beckett. His invited guest. Really, coming to bother non-relations for Christmas was one thing, but bringing cronies? Clara’s lips pressed firmly together as the man stepped down the carriage steps and then straightened. Imp-sized cronies, at that. Warrington had some nerve. She smiled prettily as he approached.

That smile remained frozen on her face as her parents and their shiny golden titles, Viscount and Viscountess, were introduced, and then finally the two men turned to her.

“...and this is Lady Clara Thorne,” Warrington spoke to his friend, before turning to her. “Lady Clara, this is Lord Cutler Beckett.”

She gave an incline of her head and a twitch of the knee that might just pass as a curtsy to those keen to see one. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

This Beckett was more dour than Warrington, bowing at the neck after affording her a look that lasted only a handful of seconds. And then her mother took over. Luckily, she was useful sometimes. Just, typically, not when Clara most wished for it.

The day dragged on. They sat through tea in her mother’s sitting room, during which she made all of the appropriate comments about the weather, and whether or not they were in for a white Christmas, and after that topic had been suitably exhausted, Warrington regaled them with tales of the journey here. Although ‘tales’ seemed a poor word for how he felt the need to divulge every detail of every weed the carriage had rolled past, every sharp turn it had to take, and every gust of wind that hit its windowpanes.

Beckett tired of it swiftly, retiring to the opposite corner of the room with her father, and bits and pieces of that conversation trickled in here and there, filled with words like pirates and Jamaica, and all were far more interesting. Unhappily, however, that conversation was closed – with a handshake, no less – long before Warrington was done droning on, and on...and on, and Beckett took his leave of the room shortly after her father did.

Only when the man sitting on the sofa across from her began to talk about his predictions for the return journey back to the city did she have enough and took her leave, citing a headache...before making swiftly for the library. Her bedroom would be the first place they’d look for her, and the gardens next. The library afforded a good view of the gardens, and so she’d see that happen and be able to act accordingly.

Leaning back against the library door, she closed it as softly as she could, and then uttered a soft ‘ugh’.

“The universal sound of Christmas cheer, I gather.”

At the flat words that were spoken to the far right side of the room, Clara whirled and saw Lord Beckett, sitting at the desk by the window, evidently making the most of the dying daylight.

“What are you doing?”

Beckett gave her an exasperated look – one which he then transferred down to the letters before him, and seemed to decide it was answer enough. He returned to his writing.

“That’s my father’s desk,” she said.

“Well, I hardly thought it belonged to a stranger, Lady Clara.”

“He’s rather territorial about it.”

“Then I shall consider it a great honour that he offered it for my use,” his tone remained bored.

“To work?”

“Evidently.”

“On Christmas?”

“Christmas eve, technically.  Though it makes little difference.”

As he spoke, Clara swept closer, lowering herself down upon the settee nearest to the desk – though she turned her side to him, pretending instead to contemplate the fire.

“You’re not a fan of Christmas, then? Some might deem you a heathen.”

“By all means, invite me to dance around a bonfire on tomorrow’s eve.”

“That doesn’t seem like your ideal pastime.”

“I told you to invite me. Not that I would attend.”

She snorted. Before she could help it. And that was quite enough for her. Rising, she made for the door, but he called after her – not loudly, but his voice still rang clear throughout the otherwise empty library...where they were entirely unchaperoned.

“That eager to return to Lord Warrington?”

Outrage and intrigued clashed within Clara. Fascination that he should so easily see her distaste for his friend, but annoyance that he would be so brash as to point it out without care.

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Because you can stand him little more than I can. Unfortunate, it seems, for you, given that he doesn’t intend to marry me.”

“He hasn’t proposed.”

“He intends to – on New Year’s Eve.”

The news came like a bucket of ice water dumped atop her head. She shuddered as though seeking to shake it off.

“Oh, God in heaven...doubtless with some terrible little speech about along the lines of let this be the last year we spend without being pledged to one another.”

Now it was Beckett’s turn to snort, though when she stared at him, his features remained expressionless.

“It’s as though you were there while he practised it in the carriage.”

“He didn't.”

“I’m afraid so. It was the longest journey of my life. You’ll only have to sit through it once.”

“You didn’t have to give an answer.”

“No, you’re right. Nor sit through the next fifty years of wedded bliss, for that matter. All the better for me. Were I you, Lady Clara, I’d pray for an early death in childbed.”

He’d have never spoken to her like this had any other been present – not so frankly, nor so...so vulgarly. So interestingly.

“God isn’t that good,” she muttered.

 There was a light sort of clattering sound as he set his quill down, and when Clara looked to him next, Lord Beckett was…considering her.

“What will you tell him?”

“I don’t know.”

It wasn’t any of his business, and her first instinct was to tell him so rather than responding honestly, but they’d fallen so swiftly and easily into this refreshing sort of honestly that once again donning the mantle of the good and proper Lady Clara Thorne seemed too heavy a burden for her shoulders, currently.

“You like him little,” Beckett pointed out. “I should think the answer would be obvious.”

“If you thought it so obvious, you wouldn’t have asked the question.”

“Perhaps I wanted to see how you would answer.”

“And now you’ve received your answer,” she countered.

“Yes. A nonsensical one.”

“Oh don’t be so naïve,” she rolled her eyes. “Warrington’s an idiot, but he’s an idiot I can handle. I won’t escape a third season without accepting someone, and what if the next lot of candidates are worse than him? It’s just…good business.”

He smiled then, and his smile was a strange thing, bitter and utterly devoid of mirth. He wasn’t a particularly handsome man, and the expression added little to that fact. But god, how she preferred it to all of the tittering and simpering that was going on not two rooms away.

“Not overly confident in your ability to handle a man who isn’t an idiot, then?”

“When I meet one, you’ll be the first to hear it.”

“Speaking of idiocy,” he replied, “I could go and tell them all precisely what you’ve just told me. Being Lord Warrington’s friend, it would be my duty, would it not?”

“Perhaps. If you liked him at all. But who would believe you, Lord Beckett? Knowing that your assertions were the mere fabrication of a jealous man, one who finds himself ungrateful to his hosts at that, telling such lies about their only child?”

“Warrington might still doubt.”

“But he’d want to believe me. It’s amazing, how powerful that can be.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is he that desperate to wed you?”

Clara’s eyes flashed. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t go down that route, not when we were speaking so frankly. You’ve looks. Plenty of women have looks. A sizeable dowry, no doubt, but there are others with that, too. But that’s it. The title can’t go to you, nor to him by extension. Nor the land.”

“Says who?”

“The entail, I imagine,” he said frankly. “Tell me, who does it all go to? Some distant cousin?”

“How do you know that?”

“It’s how these things go. Why not marry him? It would be very neat.”

Clara’s lip curled.

“Ah,” he said knowingly. “Not one of our sort, then.”

“My sort,” she corrected. “Tell me, Lord Beckett, has the wax seal yet dried on your shiny new title?”

He was unfazed. She liked that.

“What is he? A politician? Lawyer? Banker? Bricklayer? Stable hand?”

“He’s none of your business, is what he is.”

“Correct. Happily.”

At that, she said nothing. There was nothing to say, and she’d come in here to escape pointless conversations in the first place. And Beckett was alarmingly close to the mark, in any case. This cousin was the last living heir who could claim rights to their titles and land both, once her father was no longer around – as they’d discovered in a most unwelcome manner, when he’d been trying to a string or two to force everything to work out in their favour.

“If you think Warrington’s an idiot, this cousin is the king of all idiots,” she grumbled.

“As well as the soon-to-be king of this estate,” Beckett mused, casting an appraising eye about the library.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“We’ve established that,” he replied.

“Not in this library, here at all. For we’ve also established that you relish all of this about as much as I do. So why come?”

“It’s unbecoming for a bachelor to spend this time of year alone in his own home. Apparently.”

“Ugh.”

“Quite.”

It was then that he returned to his letter – impressive, really, given how the dull grey of the day was now dimming to the point where they’d soon be able to see their reflections in the windows more than they’d be able to see outside.  Her mind drifted, and for a moment she considered picking up a book, but she knew she’d only stare at the ink much in the same way she stared at the fireplace now, so it seemed yet another tedious venture.

Only when she heard a door click open somewhere out in the hall did she snap back into reality, straightening and then tensing as Warrington’s grating laugh echoed outside...and then grew softer, signalling that he was walking away rather than drawing nearer. Sighing in relief, she leaned back against the sofa once more. And pretended she didn’t feel Beckett’s eyes on her all the while. 

A/N: More parts of this pairing to come -- and then I'll post 'em all on AO3 when this is done!

Dividers by cafekitsune.

[wanderdreamer]

so ... i did something that made a younger version of myself very happy recently. i began to write. i was never sure how to start and not even sure where it would go, but i decided to enjoy what it would feel like for the time being. to give a lil mini proper go of it. and what better way to flex my creative muscles than to tackle something i truly, truly love: pirates of the caribbean. you got that right folks, i am now a fanfic writer (can i call myself that yet ...? *do* i call myself that ...?). anyways, i just wanted to voice it into this here void, to not only force myself to have pride in what i’m attempting, but also in case anyone stumbled across it and it happens to make them smile. so without further ado, the beginning to something new. here goes nothing.

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Hector Barbossa x Lora (oc)🧭🍏🌊

and

Hector Barbossa x fem navigator reader

Synopsis: A simple dance that unites a navigator and captain.

Warnings: none

A/n: Hello, I've made a one-shot on behalf of a gift to a couple of artists I've commissioned. Hope you enjoy it, and please check out the respected artists for they are extremely talented.

A/n: Down below, I've attached an x-reader version if you're interested in that instead :).

Let me know if you would like a part 2 🙌

Enjoy💖

@stephpotterart

@kitxel-draws

----

Twas a silent night aboard the Black Pearl; the gentle current rocked the sailing galleon. A young woman stood on the open deck at the taffrail, staring at the heavens above her. Her blue eyes were captivated by the brightest star of the east ‘Sirius’. She couldn’t pinpoint why or how it fascinated her; she was undoubtedly no astronomer like Carina, but something about it pulled her in. The charts displayed the constellations, but observing them with the naked eye was undoubtedly more captivating. The woman stood motionless, her senses attuned to the wind’s gentle caress as it brushed against her bare shoulders, causing her golden locks to sway and dance in the breeze. In her grip, she clutched a piece of parched paper tightly, its surface etched with cryptic writings that detailed the exact coordinates leading to an uncharted island renowned for its fabled treasure trove, discovered by the notorious Anne Bonny. Despite the potential danger, she had spent countless hours gathering similar documents and ship logs from explorers, sailors, and even pirates, all in pursuit of something greater. Nothing could deter her from this quest, and she was willing to risk everything to uncover the secrets of the unknown. As she set sail, her thoughts consumed by the prospect of adventure, she carefully unfurled the yellow parchment, revealing a hand-drawn map with a bright star marking the location of her destination. The woman's grip on the parchment tightened as the wind picked up, threatening to snatch the delicate document from her hands. She remained steadfast and determined to hold the valuable prize despite the wind. Her eyes scanned the paper, memorizing the precise navigational longitude and latitude leading her to her destination. She clung to the parchment with unwavering focus, unwilling to let it slip away from her grasp.

Standing proudly at the ship’s helm was the captain, resplendent in his vibrant blue frock coat and black bicorne, adorned with intricate gold embellishments. Leaning his weight on a sturdy wooden crutch, he expertly wielded a silver-coated spyglass, his keen gaze fixed on the endless expanse of stars that gave him crucial guidance to his intended destination. Two other men, rugged and weathered, stood nearby, sporting rough coats and thick beards, their tricorne hats perched jauntily on their heads. “Orders, sir? we’ve got Jack tied to the mast.” With a respectful gesture, Murtogg raised his hand to his forehead in a salute and inquired politely, “May I ask a question captain, whadda we do with the other two” In a gesture of solidarity, Mullroy followed suit replicating the same action. Following a period of stargazing through his trusty telescope, the captain turned his gaze to the steadfast sentinels standing at his side. “Leave Jack an’ tha ot’er lad, Carina be tha one we need; she holds tha map ta tha trident”, he gave out his command. “As for the girl, sir? Shall we tie her along with Sparrow” Murtogg asked. The captain turned his head, looking perplexed at the young woman; he couldn't reasonably determine what had seized her interest. But as soon as he caught sight of the parchment in her hand, he understood, she was utilizing the constellations. The woman's fascination with the star Sirius was undeniable, but her callow experience in sailing was an obstacle. Despite her ardent love for the sea, she knew encountering a strict and uncompromising captain could result in severe punishment. The thought of being subjected to the brutal cat-o-nine tails or even keelhauling made her shudder. Nonetheless, her unwavering passion for the stars and the sea drove her forward, and she remained determined to pursue her dreams, no matter the challenges ahead.

“Sir?” Murtogg said once more.

“Nay, she ain’t o’ any use ta us fer now, we’ll maroon er’ once we obtain what we came ere’ fer”, The captain’s coarse voice confirmed.

“A-aye then, captain” After saluting, Murtogg and Mullroy proceeded to guard Jack and Henry. The captain firmly grasped the helm's handles; curiously, he glanced back at the young woman holding the parchment. Perhaps he should’ve tied her up with the others; allowing one leverage isn’t something he usually does. What is she doing? What was she thinking? What in the blazes is she wanting? 

His eyes fixated on the girl. Treasure? The sea? Freedom? Going on account?

What does she want? He was deep in thought. Further and further, his mind strayed from his position. Her inquisitive mind is—"Oh belay this, tis be addle, why on ear’t should I be—" He posed questions about her curious mind. Once he returned to reality, the young woman’s parchment slipped through her fingers. On instinct, he hobbled down the ladder and tried to catch the parchment, only for it to be caught under his wooden peg leg. He bent over and picked it up; his rough, chapped, calloused hand kept the piece in his grip. He precisely examined the intricately drawn map, tracing his finger over each coordinate until his finger landed upon the dazzling drawn star. The celestial bodies on the map and in the vast expanse of the sky were in immaculate alignment, forming a mesmerizing spectacle. The star in the sky shone brightly, and its beauty entranced him. “Excuse me, sir; you have something of mine in your possession.” He stood there, lost in thought, he suddenly became aware of a soothing, dulcet-toned voice from behind him. The voice was elegant, as if it belonged to a refined and cultured lady.

As the captain turned around, his gaze fell upon a striking young lady with luscious golden tresses fashioned in a pouffe with a single coil gracefully cascading down her shoulder. Her complexion was as fair as porcelain, and her countenance radiated with youthful vitality. She was adorned in a light whitish gold sack-back gown, perfectly complementing her complexion. Tiny freckles were scattered lightly across her nose and cheeks, enhancing her angelic features. Her lips were full and luscious, painted in a rosy, pink hue.

“Tis my map, sir; it slipped from my fingers whilst I was trying to read the coordinates”, The young woman explained.

Hector held the map in his grasp, not precisely giving it back right away, intending to ask: "What is yer purpose fer possessing it? Are ya anticipatin’ discoverin’ a coffer o’ medallions, gold, jewels, or silver?".

Instead, he couldn’t open his yap; no words came out. He felt like an utter addle blaggard. “I anticipate sailing on the high seas; I’ve no desire for treasure nor the thrill of anticipating in such greed”, The young woman spoke.

“Then why possess a map if ye don’t intend ta track what’s marked” He seemed puzzled, with a questioning tone and expression. He held the map in one hand while leaning on his wooden crutch.

“Perhaps, rather silly of me to say, you’d expect some nautical naval admirer to want something with a map. Well, What I desire can’t be easily explained, so to answer it as easily as possible” She expressed her ambition and optimism in her speech. “I wish to know more about the sea rather than the final destination, tis rather hard for me to say; I suppose one could compare me to an explorer anticipating some exhibition”.

“An ye have naught the slightest worry, of o’, so to say—pirates, scoundrels, buccaneers” He grinned with a dry, entertaining demeanour.  

“Why should I? Tis not hard to reason with them; I would propose an agreement that satisfies both parties to a reasonable extent, ensuring a fair and amicable resolution.” She smiled in confidence.

“And what tif the other party decides ta disagree,” He asked.

“From my perspective, it seems like a fair agreement. They retain possession of the treasure while I explore an uncharted island that shall be in my name. In my opinion, it's an equitable arrangement.” The young woman seemed rather artless in knowing what pirates were like, no matter how many exchanges and fair deals she made. She would only end up marooned on some island whilst they steal her ship.

“If we start baring away 2 points on the port bow, we can head into the ongoing direction of where we need to be—well—where I aim to be. Evading any potential danger and obtaining the landmark of an unknown island” The young woman smiled affirmingly in her written directions.

“I’d watch yer ambition, missy; too much of it can getcha killed”, Hector warned her.

“Ambition or an opportunity, captain, an opportunity to find such a marvel, an opportunity to seek adventure and free one from the confines of society” The young woman grinned.

“Ye speak smartly within yer knowledge of cartography, but alas, ye lack the experience, to be out at sea, ye need to handle more than just yer “studies” He was surprised by the young lady's determination to dock at an unfamiliar island despite having no prior sailing experience.

“My knowledge of the sea is quite va—”

“Vast if ye’ve ever been in command of a ship, lassie”.

She stayed silent. Every word that came out of her mouth, he contradicted. It was like communing with a brick wall, deflecting all her ideas. She could’ve argued more and more, but that would’ve been a waste. She did have the knowledge! It shouldn’t have mattered what the old salt thought! She should just set out at sea on her father’s ship. Her father was a merchant who sailed across the vast port’s docking cargo for businessmen or nobles that wished for certain silks, foods, or goods.

“Although I am not the captain nor a sailor, I will keep clutching my goals under the watchful gaze of my father from the heavens.” She reasoned.

He laughed with wry amusement. “Aye then, who be yer father missy, was he a miserable cod that dreamed too”.

“No, he was a brilliant sailor, one that travelled to many continents”, she continued. “My father was William Rosaline—”

Hector's expression shifted from amusement to confusion, and he furrowed his eyebrows as he posed a question. “Wait! You! What’s yer first name!”.

“My first name is…Lora, sir,” she answered with a quizzical soft tone.

The captain stood upright on his wooden crutch, feeling somewhat baffled by the sudden reunion. If she recognizes him, everything will come crashing down. He didn’t speak; holding his tongue, he felt like an utter fool. He couldn’t recognize her, and for how long? For what reason couldn’t he interpret her face? Was it so complicated that his mind had to hide it deep within his distant recollections? Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

“Captain?” Lora asked.

“Lor’rer” That! That was all he could muster up after not seeing this young thing for so long!

The captain quickly glanced over where Sparrow was tied at the mizzen mast. He only managed to open his mouth slightly before quickly hobbling away without uttering another addle word out of his yap. He ended up at the helm, and from behind him was the mizzen mast where Jack was tied.  “Running away, are you? Think you can outrun the world~” Jack smirked, a line that reflected what Hector had once said. “Something tells me ol Hector is flabbergasted by something; hmmm; shall I take a gander and say it’s a lass? I’m envisioning a past flame you’ve had, one involving a hideous wench” he smiled amusingly.

The captain angrily confronted Jack, brandishing his sword of triton dangerously close to Jack's gullet. “One more word an’ Yer one step away from hangin at hempen holter”.

“Hmmm, at least I’m a captain going down with his ship from which you stole, remember.” Jack continued. “And might I say, you’re still terrible at it; you don’t even grip the helm right; she prefers handsome rouges, not men with scraggly beards—”.

The captain approached Jack with a stern glare. “All right, all right, I’ll hold my tongue—only, that fine woman over there strikes me as something familiar; her face; those eyes, ohhhh~ how smitten you were back then”.

“You couldn’t even say her name, right? Something along the lines of luau, lunch, luff, leach, leaf, long—” Jack teased.

Hector was getting infuriated.

“No, wasn’t long John silver, was it; ah! That’s right, Lora” While his hands were still bound to the mast, Jack gestured with his finger. “Except you say her name weirdly and strangely”.

“I’m starting to envision this golden artless naïve creature that would go on and on about ravishing adventures and a ship of her fathers” Jack’s face coiled, trying to remember the young woman. “By god, she was so young, a smart lass she was, always talking about cartography and sailing—I’ll admit I zoned out at some of it”.

"I must confess, twas a terrible idea of mine to use her in a bet to win a keg of rum against Master Gibbs," Jack admitted.

Jack was met with a confused expression from Hector. Jack gestured with his hands. “Was in the past; she probably won’t remember a thing”.

“We’ll keep it that way cause she ain’t even recognised me yet”, Hector spoke with a coarse voice.

Hector pulled out a flask from his pocket and leaned against the mast next to Jack; he popped off the lid and drank the rum. He then handed Jack the flask offering some, which he gladly took with his mouth. After Jack had “handed” the rum back to Hector, he asked, “So, if she remembers, do you think she’ll want to run or scream when she sees you now?”.

“I mean, you haven’t even told Smyth who you are—” A rag was placed into Jack’s mouth by Hector’s white-faced capuchin. “Thank ye, Jack,” he thanked the capuchin. Sparrow furrowed his brows and rambled through the rag while Hector tended back to the helm. In some way, Jack had a point; how would she react to seeing him now—probably an old blaggard who aged like a swine in her eyes— He wasn’t precisely the same sailor she once knew. Perhaps twas a better idea to keep his identity a secret for now—or—until she recognises him. The capuchin sat on his master’s shoulders, examining his expression. For once, his mind was clouded in thought. He couldn’t stand idly by until the cows came home; he had to do something, anything, if it meant at least a gaze of recognition. The only thing was, he was hesitant for reasons that should’ve been considered fear. However, fear wasn’t precisely the case. Deeply inhaling, he started moving—hobbling—over toward where she was.

However, he stopped only a few inches from where she stood. This was bloody ridiculous! He thought. He’s been through death, faced monsters the size of gods, and fought battles that would’ve ended him, yet…why is it so hard to speak to a lass he could easily invoke fear through.

He took a step forward using his peg leg facing outward. And yet his gaze was met just as his peg leg landed on the wooden floorboard. The captain immediately composed an expression of authority and imperiality. Lora biddably faced him while clutching the parchment in her hand. Hector awaited the doe-eyed woman’s inane response. “Ay—”

“I should’ve thanked you earlier for guiding me”, her voice softened. “i-in the right course of direction”.

Lora placed the parchment in his rough, callous hands, gently curling his fingers with one hand on top of his. “Take it, tis more useful to a captain than a doting lady.”

Hector furrowed his eyebrows in a bewildered manner. “Is this what-che want, fer me ta haul in yer accordin’s”.

Lora's lips curved into a smile, conveying a sense of comfort and reassurance. “I want you to be the one who shall set sail and command this voyage to the rightful destination.”

The captain expressed a striking visage of emotion that showed a genuine side to him naught anyone had witnessed. A gentle smile had formed on his rough, chapped lips. “Yer treasure lo’rer’.”

As she gazed into his eyes, filled with earnestness, her blue eyes, like those of a doe, reflected his admiration. Her lips, slightly parted, were a silent testament to his flattery's impact on her. Hector lifted his thumb to her chin, feeling the plumpness of her skin. Oh, how he had yearned to touch her, feel her under his watchful gaze. His heart was filled with a deep longing to reach out and connect with her on a profound level. He yearned to bask in the warmth of her presence while keeping a vigilant watchful eye over her, protecting her from any harm. The desire to be with her. He delicately traced the curve of her upper lip with his thumb, following the line down to the plumpness of her lower lip, where he stopped with his nail. His hand trailed down along her shoulder and arm, only to reach her palm, lightly grasping it. He held her hand and gently pulled it into the air while his other arm wrapped around her back. Lora carefully followed his lead and mimicked his graceful movements as he began to move in a waltz step. When was the last time he had waltzed like this? It must’ve been a century ago. From a distant memory, he recalled a moment in a grand setting with a regal woman. Her striking raven tresses cascaded down her back, framing her beautiful face that was accentuated by her deep brown eyes. His image of her elegance remained vivid.

Lora accounted for how fluent his moves were as if he were gliding on ice. He was surprisingly good despite having a peg leg; one after the other, with a tap and stomp, the peg leg moved forward as the other leg soothingly assisted with turning. For Lora, it was relatively easy to follow; her heels moved back as the captain stepped forward in rhythm. If they had attended a masquerade or gala, they would’ve gripped the audience’s attention, with the pair being the most incongruous and grossing couple. Hector stopped abruptly with his peg leg and began to spin slowly, holding the parchment between their hands as they twirled around. The radiant celestial Sirius, situated above their heads, mirrored their existence with a resplendent and luminous reflection. As Lora moved closer to him, her lips parted slightly, revealing her rosy hue. She was just inches away from his chapped lips, creating a moment of anticipation and tension. Her gaze soon turned quizzical as she recalled, ' His face resembles someone familiar, someone I once knew”.

“Barboss—"

“CAPTAIN, THE SILENT MARY HAS BEEN SPOTTED OFF THE PORT BOW, SIR!” The lookout shouted from the crow's nest, holding a wooden brazen spyglass. Hector smartly came to a halt, dropping Lora’s hands, accidentally letting go of the parchment. He turned to the sailor who bellowed out the sighting. In a sudden rush, he hastened away, his gait impeded by a hobbling motion as he made his way towards the helm with a firm determination to take a brace of action. He started to bellow orders while the crew manned their stations. “MAN, YER STATIONS YE FILTHY ROACHES, ALL HANDS HOY, PREPARE TA TACK N’ START BARING AWAY 5 POINTS ABAFT STARBOARD BEAM, PREPARE THA CANONS”.  The captain started to turn the wheel vigorously, trying to change course and direction to lose sight of their pursuers who were oncoming from the port bow.

Lora witnessed the parchment being carried away by the wind and eventually landing in the water. The ink began to bleed and dissolve in the saltwater, causing the writing and drawings to become illegible scribbles. Her eyes could read a line pointing toward the star; suddenly, she turned, looking up at Sirius. A realization crossed her mind as she hatched a plan. Smartly heading up from the open deck to the quarter deck to where the helm was, over on the horizon, she could spot a Spanish three-masted royal naval galleon that was rickety and rotten. Her eyes widened at the impossible ship with deteriorated fore, aft and main sails. She lifted her skirtings and held them at her waist as she hurried, taking care not to trip over her heels. Her coiled locks bounced as she climbed the ladder when she made it before the helms deck. “Bare away from the starboard beam, captain, we can lose them faster, and the canon fire will have a guaranteed hit!” Lora raised her voice to the captain to allow him to hear.

Hector was skeptical. did she even have any plan to evade Salazar's ship, or was she improvising to head toward their death?

“Nay, belay that!” he shouted.

“I assure you, once we head in that direction, we can then tack and head broad on the port bow, eventually going on dead ahead heading into the direction of Sirius,” Lora told him of her plan.

However, Hector debated, his eyebrows furrowing together when she mentioned ‘Sirius’. He turned to the brightest star of the east, realizing what Lora was trying to talk about. “I hope yer not countin Fiddler's Green as part o’ tha plan, missy.” he complied and turned the wheel toward the direction she was speaking of.

Lora turned to face the bow and saw Black Pearl's bowsprit turn in motion. Lora's coiled lock and hair strands billowed in the wind as the Black Pearl changed direction. The Black Pearl was heading West-South along the current while The Silent Mary came from the North-East. The two ships were heading in an ongoing pursuit; The Silent Mary was gaining speed. Upon the Silent Mary’s Fore castle, the captain laughed with a mirthless wheeze. “Prepare to meet your damnation Jack Sparroh” Salazar’s grin oozed with black liquid.

The Black Pearl had picked up speed further, traversing across the sea. When The Silent Mary had just reached a certain distance behind the Black Pearl. Lora shouted, “Tack Now!”.

As the ship continued its course, the sailors smartly adjusted the various riggings to shift the gaff, foresail, jib, top, and main sails in response to the subtle shifts in the direction of the wind. Their skilled hands deftly worked the ropes and pulleys, ensuring the ship was travelling at peak performance, enabling them to navigate safely through the treacherous waters. As the Black Pearl turned, leading the Silent Mary off their track.

Hector was filled with a sense of incredulity as he witnessed the success of their plan. Against all odds, they had bought themselves a precious amount of time, allowing them to load their cannons with a newfound sense of urgency and efficiency. Although things looked swell, the Silent Mary hadn’t lost chase yet.

Lora knew she had to come up with a new plan soon. As she gazed at the horizon, she prayed for a glimpse of hope. A chance to avoid being swallowed by the ghosts of death.

------

X reader version

Twas a silent night aboard the Black Pearl; the gentle current rocked the sailing galleon. A young woman stood on the open deck at the taffrail, staring at the heavens above her. Her eyes were captivated by the brightest star of the east ‘Sirius’. She couldn’t pinpoint why or how it fascinated her; she was undoubtedly no astronomer like Carina, but something about it pulled her in. The charts displayed the constellations, but observing them with the naked eye was undoubtedly more captivating. The woman stood motionless, her senses attuned to the wind’s gentle caress as it brushed against her bare shoulders, causing her locks to sway and dance in the breeze. In her grip, she clutched a piece of parched paper tightly, its surface etched with cryptic writings that detailed the exact coordinates leading to an uncharted island renowned for its fabled treasure trove, discovered by the notorious Anne Bonny. Despite the potential danger, she had spent countless hours gathering similar documents and ship logs from explorers, sailors, and even pirates, all in pursuit of something greater. Nothing could deter her from this quest, and she was willing to risk everything to uncover the secrets of the unknown. As she set sail, her thoughts consumed by the prospect of adventure, she carefully unfurled the yellow parchment, revealing a hand-drawn map with a bright star marking the location of her destination. The woman's grip on the parchment tightened as the wind picked up, threatening to snatch the delicate document from her hands. She remained steadfast and determined to hold the valuable prize despite the wind. Her eyes scanned the paper, memorizing the precise navigational longitude and latitude leading her to her destination. She clung to the parchment with unwavering focus, unwilling to let it slip away from her grasp.

Standing proudly at the ship’s helm was the captain, resplendent in his vibrant blue frock coat and black bicorne, adorned with intricate gold embellishments. Leaning his weight on a sturdy wooden crutch, he expertly wielded a silver-coated spyglass, his keen gaze fixed on the endless expanse of stars that gave him crucial guidance to his intended destination. Two other men, rugged and weathered, stood nearby, sporting rough coats and thick beards, their tricorne hats perched jauntily on their heads. “Orders, sir? we’ve got Jack tied to the mast.” With a respectful gesture, Murtogg raised his hand to his forehead in a salute and inquired politely, “May I ask a question captain, whadda we do with the other two” In a gesture of solidarity, Mullroy followed suit replicating the same action. Following a period of stargazing through his trusty telescope, the captain turned his gaze to the steadfast sentinels standing at his side. “Leave Jack an’ tha ot’er lad, Carina be tha one we need; she holds tha map ta tha trident”, he gave out his command. “As for the girl, sir? Shall we tie her along with Sparrow” Murtogg asked. The captain turned his head, looking perplexed at the young woman; he couldn't reasonably determine what had seized her interest. But as soon as he caught sight of the parchment in her hand, he understood, she was utilizing the constellations. The woman's fascination with the star Sirius was undeniable, but her callow experience in sailing was an obstacle. Despite her ardent love for the sea, she knew encountering a strict and uncompromising captain could result in severe punishment. The thought of being subjected to the brutal cat-o-nine tails or even keelhauling made her shudder. Nonetheless, her unwavering passion for the stars and the sea drove her forward, and she remained determined to pursue her dreams, no matter the challenges ahead.

“Sir?” Murtogg said once more.

“Nay, she ain’t o’ any use ta us fer now, we’ll maroon er’ once we obtain what we came ere’ fer”, The captain’s coarse voice confirmed.

“A-aye then, captain” After saluting, Murtogg and Mullroy proceeded to guard Jack and Henry. The captain firmly grasped the helm's handles; curiously, he glanced back at the young woman holding the parchment. Perhaps he should’ve tied her up with the others; allowing one leverage isn’t something he usually does. What is she doing? What was she thinking? What in the blazes is she wanting? 

His eyes fixated on the girl. Treasure? The sea? Freedom? Going on account?

What does she want? He was deep in thought. Further and further, his mind strayed from his position. Her inquisitive mind is—"Oh belay this, tis be addle, why on ear’t should I be—" He posed questions about her curious mind. Once he returned to reality, the young woman’s parchment slipped through her fingers. On instinct, he hobbled down the ladder and tried to catch the parchment, only for it to be caught under his wooden peg leg. He bent over and picked it up; his rough, chapped, calloused hand kept the piece in his grip. He precisely examined the intricately drawn map, tracing his finger over each coordinate until his finger landed upon the dazzling drawn star. The celestial bodies on the map and in the vast expanse of the sky were in immaculate alignment, forming a mesmerizing spectacle. The star in the sky shone brightly, and its beauty entranced him. “Excuse me, sir; you have something of mine in your possession.” He stood there, lost in thought, he suddenly became aware of a soothing, dulcet-toned voice from behind him. The voice was elegant, as if it belonged to a refined and cultured lady.

As the captain turned around, his gaze fell upon a striking young lady with luscious tresses fashioned in a pouffe with a single coil gracefully cascading down her shoulder and her countenance radiated with youthful vitality. She was adorned in a light whitish gold sack-back gown, perfectly complementing her complexion. Her lips were full and luscious.

“Tis my map, sir; it slipped from my fingers whilst I was trying to read the coordinates”, The young woman explained.

Hector held the map in his grasp, not precisely giving it back right away, intending to ask: "What is yer purpose fer possessing it? Are ya anticipatin’ discoverin’ a coffer o’ medallions, gold, jewels, or silver?".

Instead, he couldn’t open his yap; no words came out. He felt like an utter addle blaggard. “I anticipate sailing on the high seas; I’ve no desire for treasure nor the thrill of anticipating in such greed”, The young woman spoke.

“Then why possess a map if ye don’t intend ta track what’s marked” He seemed puzzled, with a questioning tone and expression. He held the map in one hand while leaning on his wooden crutch.

“Perhaps, rather silly of me to say, you’d expect some nautical naval admirer to want something with a map. Well, What I desire can’t be easily explained, so to answer it as easily as possible” She expressed her ambition and optimism in her speech. “I wish to know more about the sea rather than the final destination, tis rather hard for me to say; I suppose one could compare me to an explorer anticipating some exhibition”.

“An ye have naught the slightest worry, of o’, so to say—pirates, scoundrels, buccaneers” He grinned with a dry, entertaining demeanour.  

“Why should I? Tis not hard to reason with them; I would propose an agreement that satisfies both parties to a reasonable extent, ensuring a fair and amicable resolution.” She smiled in confidence.

“And what tif the other party decides ta disagree,” He asked.

“From my perspective, it seems like a fair agreement. They retain possession of the treasure while I explore an uncharted island that shall be in my name. In my opinion, it's an equitable arrangement.” The young woman seemed rather artless in knowing what pirates were like, no matter how many exchanges and fair deals she made. She would only end up marooned on some island whilst they steal her ship.

“If we start baring away 2 points on the port bow, we can head into the ongoing direction of where we need to be—well—where I aim to be. Evading any potential danger and obtaining the landmark of an unknown island” The young woman smiled affirmingly in her written directions.

“I’d watch yer ambition, missy; too much of it can getcha killed”, Hector warned her.

“Ambition or an opportunity, captain, an opportunity to find such a marvel, an opportunity to seek adventure and free one from the confines of society” The young woman grinned.

“Ye speak smartly within yer knowledge of cartography, but alas, ye lack the experience, to be out at sea, ye need to handle more than just yer “studies” He was surprised by the young lady's determination to dock at an unfamiliar island despite having no prior sailing experience.

“My knowledge of the sea is quite va—”

“Vast if ye’ve ever been in command of a ship, lassie”.

She stayed silent. Every word that came out of her mouth, he contradicted. It was like communing with a brick wall, deflecting all her ideas. She could’ve argued more and more, but that would’ve been a waste. She did have the knowledge! It shouldn’t have mattered what the old salt thought! She should just set out at sea on her father’s ship. Her father was a merchant who sailed across the vast port’s docking cargo for businessmen or nobles that wished for certain silks, foods, or goods.

“Although I am not the captain nor a sailor, I will keep clutching my goals under the watchful gaze of my father from the heavens.” She reasoned.

He laughed with wry amusement. “Aye then, who be yer father missy, was he a miserable cod that dreamed too”.

“No, he was a brilliant sailor, one that travelled to many continents”, she continued. “My father was Y/F L/N—”

Hector's expression shifted from amusement to confusion, and he furrowed his eyebrows as he posed a question. “Wait! You! What’s yer first name!”.

“My first name is…Y/n, sir,” she answered with a quizzical soft tone.

The captain stood upright on his wooden crutch, feeling somewhat baffled by the sudden reunion. If she recognizes him, everything will come crashing down. He didn’t speak; holding his tongue, he felt like an utter fool. He couldn’t recognize her, and for how long? For what reason couldn’t he interpret her face? Was it so complicated that his mind had to hide it deep within his distant recollections? Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

“Captain?” y/n asked.

“Y/n’rer” That! That was all he could muster up after not seeing this young thing for so long!

The captain quickly glanced over where Sparrow was tied at the mizzen mast. He only managed to open his mouth slightly before quickly hobbling away without uttering another addle word out of his yap. He ended up at the helm, and from behind him was the mizzen mast where Jack was tied.  “Running away, are you? Think you can outrun the world~” Jack smirked, a line that reflected what Hector had once said. “Something tells me ol Hector is flabbergasted by something; hmmm; shall I take a gander and say it’s a lass? I’m envisioning a past flame you’ve had, one involving a hideous wench” he smiled amusingly.

The captain angrily confronted Jack, brandishing his sword of triton dangerously close to Jack's gullet. “One more word an’ Yer one step away from hangin at hempen holter”.

“Hmmm, at least I’m a captain going down with his ship from which you stole, remember.” Jack continued. “And might I say, you’re still terrible at it; you don’t even grip the helm right; she prefers handsome rouges, not men with scraggly beards—”.

The captain approached Jack with a stern glare. “All right, all right, I’ll hold my tongue—only, that fine woman over there strikes me as something familiar; her face; those eyes, ohhhh~ how smitten you were back then”.

“You couldn’t even say her name, right? Something along the lines of Luau, lunch, luff, leach, leaf, long—” Jack teased.

Hector was getting infuriated.

“No, wasn’t long John silver, was it; ah! That’s right, y/n” While his hands were still bound to the mast, Jack gestured with his finger. “Except you say her name weirdly and strangely”.

“I’m starting to envision this golden artless naïve creature that would go on and on about ravishing adventures and a ship of her fathers” Jack’s face coiled, trying to remember the young woman. “By god, she was so young, a smart lass she was, always talking about cartography and sailing—I’ll admit I zoned out at some of it”.

"I must confess, twas a terrible idea of mine to use her in a bet to win a keg of rum against Master Gibbs," Jack admitted.

Jack was met with a confused expression from Hector. Jack gestured with his hands. “Was in the past; she probably won’t remember a thing”.

“We’ll keep it that way cause she ain’t even recognised me yet”, Hector spoke with a coarse voice.

Hector pulled out a flask from his pocket and leaned against the mast next to Jack; he popped off the lid and drank the rum. He then handed Jack the flask offering some, which he gladly took with his mouth. After Jack had “handed” the rum back to Hector, he asked, “So, if she remembers, do you think she’ll want to run or scream when she sees you now?”.

“I mean, you haven’t even told Smyth who you are—” A rag was placed into Jack’s mouth by Hector’s white-faced capuchin. “Thank ye, Jack,” he thanked the capuchin. Sparrow furrowed his brows and rambled through the rag while Hector tended back to the helm. In some way, Jack had a point; how would she react to seeing him now—probably an old blaggard who aged like a swine in her eyes— He wasn’t precisely the same sailor she once knew. Perhaps twas a better idea to keep his identity a secret for now—or—until she recognises him. The capuchin sat on his master’s shoulders, examining his expression. For once, his mind was clouded in thought. He couldn’t stand idly by until the cows came home; he had to do something, anything, if it meant at least a gaze of recognition. The only thing was, he was hesitant for reasons that should’ve been considered fear. However, fear wasn’t precisely the case. Deeply inhaling, he started moving—hobbling—over toward where she was.

However, he stopped only a few inches from where she stood. This was bloody ridiculous! He thought. He’s been through death, faced monsters the size of gods, and fought battles that would’ve ended him, yet…why is it so hard to speak to a lass he could easily invoke fear through.

He took a step forward using his peg leg facing outward. And yet his gaze was met just as his peg leg landed on the wooden floorboard. The captain immediately composed an expression of authority and imperiality. Y/n biddably faced him while clutching the parchment in her hand. Hector awaited the doe-eyed woman’s inane response. “Aye—”

“I should’ve thanked you earlier for guiding me”, her voice softened. “i-in the right course of direction”.

Y/n placed the parchment in his rough, callous hands, gently curling his fingers with one hand on top of his. “Take it, tis more useful to a captain than a doting lady.”

Hector furrowed his eyebrows in a bewildered manner. “Is this what-che want, fer me ta haul in yer accordin’s”.

Y/n's lips curved into a smile, conveying a sense of comfort and reassurance. “I want you to be the one who shall set sail and command this voyage to the rightful destination.”

The captain expressed a striking visage of emotion that showed a genuine side to him naught anyone had witnessed. A gentle smile had formed on his rough, chapped lips. “Yer treasure lo’rer’.”

As she gazed into his eyes, filled with earnestness, her eyes reflected his admiration. Her lips, slightly parted, were a silent testament to his flattery's impact on her. Hector lifted his thumb to her chin, feeling the plumpness of her skin. Oh, how he had yearned to touch her, feel her under his watchful gaze. His heart was filled with a deep longing to reach out and connect with her on a profound level. He yearned to bask in the warmth of her presence while keeping a vigilant watchful eye over her, protecting her from any harm. The desire to be with her. He delicately traced the curve of her upper lip with his thumb, following the line down to the plumpness of her lower lip, where he stopped with his nail. His hand trailed down along her shoulder and arm, only to reach her palm, lightly grasping it. He held her hand and gently pulled it into the air while his other arm wrapped around her back. Y/n carefully followed his lead and mimicked his graceful movements as he began to move in a waltz step. When was the last time he had waltzed like this? It must’ve been a century ago. From a distant memory, he recalled a moment in a grand setting with a regal woman. Her striking raven tresses cascaded down her back, framing her beautiful face that was accentuated by her deep brown eyes. His image of her elegance remained vivid.

Y/n accounted for how fluent his moves were as if he were gliding on ice. He was surprisingly good despite having a peg leg; one after the other, with a tap and stomp, the peg leg moved forward as the other leg soothingly assisted with turning. For y/n, it was relatively easy to follow; her heels moved back as the captain stepped forward in rhythm. If they had attended a masquerade or gala, they would’ve gripped the audience’s attention, with the pair being the most incongruous and grossing couple. Hector stopped abruptly with his peg leg and began to spin slowly, holding the parchment between their hands as they twirled around. The radiant celestial Sirius, situated above their heads, mirrored their existence with a resplendent and luminous reflection. As Y/n moved closer to him, her lips parted slightly, revealing her hue. She was just inches away from his chapped lips, creating a moment of anticipation and tension. Her gaze soon turned quizzical as she recalled, ' His face resembles someone familiar, someone I once knew”.

“Barboss—"

“CAPTAIN, THE SILENT MARY HAS BEEN SPOTTED OFF THE PORT BOW, SIR!” The lookout shouted from the crow's nest, holding a wooden brazen spyglass. Hector smartly came to a halt, dropping Y/n’s hands, accidentally letting go of the parchment. He turned to the sailor who bellowed out the sighting. In a sudden rush, he hastened away, his gait impeded by a hobbling motion as he made his way towards the helm with a firm determination to take a brace of action. He started to bellow orders while the crew manned their stations. “MAN, YER STATIONS YE FILTHY ROACHES, ALL HANDS HOY, PREPARE TA TACK N’ START BARING AWAY 5 POINTS ABAFT STARBOARD BEAM, PREPARE THA CANONS”.  The captain started to turn the wheel vigorously, trying to change course and direction to lose sight of their pursuers who were oncoming from the port bow.

Y/n witnessed the parchment being carried away by the wind and eventually landing in the water. The ink began to bleed and dissolve in the saltwater, causing the writing and drawings to become illegible scribbles. Her eyes could read a line pointing toward the star; suddenly, she turned, looking up at Sirius. A realization crossed her mind as she hatched a plan. Smartly heading up from the open deck to the quarter deck to where the helm was, over on the horizon, she could spot a Spanish three-masted royal naval galleon that was rickety and rotten. Her eyes widened at the impossible ship with deteriorated fore, aft and main sails. She lifted her skirtings and held them at her waist as she hurried, taking care not to trip over her heels. Her coiled locks bounced as she climbed the ladder when she made it before the helms deck. “Bare away from the starboard beam, captain, we can lose them faster, and the canon fire will have a guaranteed hit!” Y/n raised her voice to the captain to allow him to hear.

Hector was skeptical. did she even have any plan to evade Salazar's ship, or was she improvising to head toward their death?

“Nay, belay that!” he shouted.

“I assure you, once we head in that direction, we can then tack and head broad on the port bow, eventually going on dead ahead heading into the direction of Sirius,” Y/n told him of her plan.

However, Hector debated, his eyebrows furrowing together when she mentioned ‘Sirius’. He turned to the brightest star of the east, realizing what y/n was trying to talk about. “I hope yer not countin Fiddler's Green as part o’ tha plan, missy.” he complied and turned the wheel toward the direction she was speaking of.

Y/n turned to face the bow and saw Black Pearl's bowsprit turn in motion. Y/n's coiled lock and hair strands billowed in the wind as the Black Pearl changed direction. The Black Pearl was heading West-South along the current while The Silent Mary came from the North-East. The two ships were heading in an ongoing pursuit; The Silent Mary was gaining speed. Upon the Silent Mary’s Fore castle, the captain laughed with a mirthless wheeze. “Prepare to meet your damnation Jack Sparroh” Salazar’s grin oozed with black liquid.

The Black Pearl had picked up speed further, traversing across the sea. When The Silent Mary had just reached a certain distance behind the Black Pearl. Y/n shouted, “Tack Now!”.

As the ship continued its course, the sailors smartly adjusted the various riggings to shift the gaff, foresail, jib, top, and main sails in response to the subtle shifts in the direction of the wind. Their skilled hands deftly worked the ropes and pulleys, ensuring the ship was travelling at peak performance, enabling them to navigate safely through the treacherous waters. As the Black Pearl turned, leading the Silent Mary off their track.

Hector was filled with a sense of incredulity as he witnessed the success of their plan. Against all odds, they had bought themselves a precious amount of time, allowing them to load their cannons with a newfound sense of urgency and efficiency. Although things looked swell, the Silent Mary hadn’t lost chase yet.

Y/n knew she had to come up with a new plan soon. As she gazed at the horizon, she prayed for a glimpse of hope.

A chance to avoid being swallowed by the ghosts of death.

Anyways that's all I have for now:

Ta Ta ✨

[youalmostcapturedjacksparrow]

𝕁𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕊𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕨'𝕤 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟟

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15  

Chapter 7: Tortuga

General POV

The trio jumped off the interceptor and landed on the dock of Tortuga.

Will was carefully looking around seeing a lot of drunken sailors and woman with really tight dresses and loads of makeup on their faces.

Rosemary loosened her hair out of the ponytail and took her hat, she placed it on her head to make her outfit complete.

Even though Rosemary was walking around in Tortuga and not Port Royal she wanted to look the best she could. She was a tailor after all.

'Stick with me' Jack said

'And Will hold her close'

We walked off deeper into Tortuga. Rosemary nor Will had any idea where Jack was leading them

'It is indeed a sad life that has never breathed deep the sweet, proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga.

Savvy? '

The trio was walking around town and the further we walked into the town. The more drunken sailors , pirates or woman we saw.

'Well what do you think?' Jack asked . He turned around to look at Will and Rosemary.

'You know what I think ' Rosemary said while holding her nose up from the horrendous smell that was around. They were close to an shet or a urinating place.

'I love the people here, but I prefer it to be noon instead of the late late evening.'

Will was looking as confused as ever. He never had been to a place like this. And never seen a Woman dressing like that selling herself to drunken sailors.

' Ill tell you mate' Jack said while putting an arm around Will.

'If every town in the world were like this one, no man would ever feel unwanted.' Jack let go of Will.

And Rosemary was rolling her eyes at him.

Rosemary's POV

When we were about to walk further. A woman with dark red hair, and a lot of roots from the painting came up towards us.

Her makeup was all over her face. And her dress was to small and dirty.

'Scarlet!' Jack said while holding his arms open.

But she didn't stop to hug or talk to Jack.

Instead she slapped him right on his cheek.

Will and I both had our hand on our mouths and I couldn't help but laugh at Jack.

'Scarlet' looked me up and down and narrowed her eyes. Before she stomped off towards the group of girls she was with.

'Not sure I deserved that' Jack said asking himself.

'Well from the looks of her' I shrugged and bit on my lower lip holding back my chuckle.

But before we knew it a small blond girl stood before us.

'Giselle' Jack said looking a bit confused

'Who was she?' she said before slapping Jack across the cheeks again.

'And who is she' She said while pointing at me.

I hold up my hands.

'Nah sorry, I'm not with him' I simply said.

Giselle narrowed her eyes and then walked off.

'I May have deserved that' Jack mumbled before he spoke up.

'Will fetch me a few buckets of water'

'Here lets go' I said towards Will and pulled him towards the water pump.

'For what in heavens sake would we need water' Will said while pumping

I shrugged. 'Its Jack. I don't think I need to explain any further do I ?' I said with a small chuckle.

General POV

Jack walked up towards a shed opening the door. He was nodding to Will en Rosemary to come in with the buckets of water.

It smelled horrendous in there. So Rose was holding her nose up her fingers closing her nostrils.

Will was looking at her with a smile. She was still a little bit spoiled.

But hen he caught the smell in his nose. And he started to dry heeve.

Which made Rose burst out laughing.

To which Jack motioned that they should be quiet and that Will should move closer towards him. With the bucket of water.

In the shed with the pigs there was an older man sleeping with a bottle in his hands.

Jack motioned to Will that he should throw the bucket on the man. And so he did.

The man shook up. And started mumbling nonsense.

'Curse you for breathing, you slack-jawed idiot!' the man cursed and looked up towards Jack and Will. his face cleared up.

'Mother's love! Jack!

You should know better than to wake a man when he's sleepin'

Its bad luck!' he lisped.

'Ah fortunately, I know how to counter it.

The man who did the waking buys the man who was sleeping a drink.

The man who was sleeping drink it, while listening to a proposition from the man who did the waking. ' Jack said while squatting next to the man. And holding out his head.

'Aye, That'll about do it.' The man said.

And Jack lifted him up.

Rose came forward with another bucket of water and threw it around the ears of the man.

'I was already awake miss.. ' he looked at Rose confused

'That was for the smell' she said smiling.

And looked at the man.

'You look so incredibly familiar' Rose said eyeing the man.

'Rosemary don't stare at him like that' Jack said almost jealous.

'Ah miss Rivers. I did not think I would ever see you around here' the man said.

'Well neither did I Mister Gibbs' Rose said smirking.

'You're father would keelhaul you, if he ever saw you in Tortuga you know that right?' Gibbs told her.

'Yeah yeah, were here for something else' she motioned towards Jack.

'Well shall we then?' Jack said confused while walking off.

The group entered a bar. It was a huge mess. Drunk people everywhere and even small fights breaking out.

Rose smirked looking around while Jack was ordering drinks.

She was quite interested by everything going on. She had only been to the port of Tortuga so she had never sat foot in a bar here.

Rose turned around looking to a fight brewing in the back of the bar. she was tapping with her fingers on the wood of the bar waiting for Jack to be done.

'I'm quite interested in you, y'know'

Rose fastly turned around to look straight into Jack's eyes.

She lifted her eyebrow looking at him.

'You know what you want. You say what you want ' I appreciate that in a woman.

'Keep dreaming Jack.

You got the drinks?' she took the cups out of his hands and walked off.

The bartender grope Jack's coat.

'Did she just got your rum? U got it bad mate' the bartender said while shaking his head.

'Who would have thought Jack Sparrow would had a soft spot.' He was talking to himself.

Jack walked off after Rose who was holding the drinks and dodging drunk people before she got stopped by an huge man stepping right in front of her.

'L..Lass ' he hiccuped.

'I don't fink u shouwld be wearing those clofes at all' he spat at Rose.

Will walked up towards Rose as did Jack, but Will got there first.

And stepped in front of Rose.

'I think you should leave her alone mate' Jack said while also catching up.

'Really guys?

You really think I'm that much of a helpless woman?

Here hold on to this. ' Rose pushed the cups into Jacks arms. And pushed Will aside.

She pulled the clearly drunk man at his coat towards her.

'You know. ' she said while pulling him even closer. Her mouth was next to his ear.

'You know, I think I can wear whatever the fuck I want' she bit in his ear.

So the man jumped up and fell backwards.

'SKANK! You bit in me bloody ear' he scowled towards Rose.

Who got back the cups from Jack and stepped over the men towards the table Gibbs was holding free for them.

'Pathetic ' she spat at the man.

The whole bar was looking at Rose.

Jack looked at Will and Will looked directly back shrugging his shoulders.

As they followed Rose towards the table.

As she sat down she shoved Gibbs a cup. And sat the other 3 on the table.

Crossing her legs. Raising an eyebrow when she saw everyone looking at her.

She saw the drunken man stand up. And wanting to walk towards her again. But she saw him coming and threw her cup on the wall next to him.

It almost exploded next to the man's head. And he gulped looking at her.

She looked straightly back into his eyes. And shook her head.

He actually backed off.

And she sat back down next to Gibbs.

'Will. Did you know she could do that?' Jack asked while he lifted his top lip a bit.

'Its almost scary, I thought she was a high class royal'

Will chuckled.

'Well she's kinda both. She grew up in the Swann household. But she was in the town way more and I thinked she picked up some things.' Will shrugged.

'Well anyway. Keep an sharp eye ' Jack said to Will.

He walked towards the table where Gibbs and Rose were sitting.

'Rose love, this is kind of grow up talk' Jack said while trying to shoo Rose from the table.

She raised her eyebrow. Looking at Jack.

'I'm good where I am' she said looking in his eyes.

'Well then.' Jack said while sitting at the table.

'Now , what's the nature of this venture of your'n' Gibbs asked Jack.

Jack quickly skimmed around and looked at Gibbs.

'I'm going after the Black Pearl' Jack said

Gibbs almost chocked on his rum. And looked at Rose and then at Jack.

'I know where it's going to be, and I'm gonna take it.' Jack simply stated.

'Jack , it's a fool's errand. You know better than methe tales of the Black Pearl.' Gibbs said shaken.

'That's why I know what Barbossa is up to.

All I need is a crew. '

'What I hear around here is Captrain Barbossa's not a man to suffer fools, nor strike a bargain with one.' Gibbs told Jack carefully.

'Well then it's a very good thing, I'm not a fool. ' Jack said

'Well prove me wrong. What makes you think Barbossa will give up his ship to you? '

'Lets just say it's a matter of leverage.' Jack said and looked over towards Will.

Gibbs shook his head not understanding what Jack meant.

'Excuse me what? ' Rose stated.

'Gibbs its obviously about the lad over there? Will' she almost needed to turn his head for him towards Will who was standing closeby.

Jack ignored Rose.

'That kid is the child of Bootstrap Bill Turner, His only child. Savvy?'

Gibbs mouth fell open. Understanding what was happening.

'Hello? I'm right here?! Jack jesus tell me ' Rose started to get a little frustrated she wasn't just a little girl who was 11 years old. She was a grown up woman.

And she wanted to know what in the world he was talking about.

'You'll see Love, He's going to be completely fine' Jack said with a soft smile and a chuckle.

'Leverage says you' Gibbs said with a soft smile.

'I think I feel a change in the wind, says I' Gibbs said to Jack.

'Ill find us a crew. There's bound to be sailors on this rock as crazy as you Jack'

'One can only hope.' Jack said while raising his cup of rum.

'Take what you can.'

'Give nothin' back' Gibbs said as they clashed their cups together and drank them.

They looked at Rose as if she was not clashing her cup with them.

'I don't have a cup anymore remember' Rose said while pointing towards the wall where she threw her cup against.

She winked at them both. And stood up walking towards Will.

'She's a special one.

Isn't she Gibbs'

'Aye sir' Gibbs said.