#commodore norrington x reader

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

champagne problems - J.N

evermore masterlist | willow | gold rush

Warnings: mentions of abuse, marriage, rejection, heartbreak, angst, 1700's views on women and their place in society, piracy

Pairing: James Norrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: James loved you but your heart belonged with the sea and one night, you had to make the choice between two different paths, being a well mannered woman or being a woman on the lamb

Wordcount: 1.8k

You could have spent forever in his arms, his soft touch making you feel like you're floating as the two of you waltzed across the floor. 

You may have hated this high society life of big ballgowns and parties and castles but as long as you had James, you knew that none of that mattered. 

Your real dream was to sail the seven seas, to be free as a pirate where nobody could tell you what to do, not the Navy, not your mother, not the governor, you decided your own fate. 

But it was a fantasy that you knew you couldn't never achieve, not just because you were a girl but because you felt guilty even thinking about leaving James. 

When he smiled down at you, you smiled back, his smile infectious to you. He never smiled because he was so serious and high strung so when he did, you treasured the moments. 

James looked at you the same way as you looked at him, both of you totally in love with one another. 

He loved you more than anything else in the world, more than his job. The weight of the ring in his pocket was heavy and he knew that tonight was going to be the night that he was going to propose. 

Whenever he imagined his future, he imagined it with you. 

He imagined 2, maybe 3 small children running around a nice house near the beach. He would stop sailing the seas and maybe come back to work for the governor. You'd be at home for him when he got back every day from working with the governor and it would be perfect. 

"Are you alright James? You seem to be in another world," you asked with a chuckle as you danced round the room, following his footsteps. 

He smiled, "Of course darling," he said, his hand tight in yours, the other one placed on your hip. 

He was hesitant and he could feel his palms becoming slick with sweat as he realised that he was going to have to propose soon. It was nerve wracking but he was ready. 

"Do you want to go to the balcony? Get some fresh air?" He asked, his voice slightly shaky, "I need to talk to you," 

You let go of his hand, freezing in your spot as you realised he was going to propose to you or at least ask you to make your relationship official in terms of courting. 

"You okay my love?" He asked, reaching back down for your hand as people danced around the two of you. 

You put on a fake smile, "Yes, yes, of course I am," you tried to hide the shake in your voice, "Lets go," 

You had to ignore the sinking in your stomach. He could change your life forever.

You stood on the terrace, staring out at the stars, hoping that it was all going to end up well and you would leave within a week to sail into a new future. 

You hated this life and you were going to run away months ago but James kept asking you on the promenades and you couldn't turn him down. 

You were falling in love with him but your heart longed for the sea and your mother was so controlling that just being around her made you sick.

He looked at you, wiping his palms on his trousers as he approached you, the nerves becoming too much to bear. 

He said your name softly and you turned around, noticing how nervous he appeared to be. 

"I love you and I have for the last few months but I'd like to make it official between us, to be able to share our love forever; if you'd let me," he said and you were shaking. 

You couldn't believe this was happening. A life with James seemed perfect to you and you didn't want to leave but it was suffocating and you could already feel your throat closing up at the idea. 

He took a deep breath before getting on one knee, fishing his mothers ring out of his pocket and holding it out to you, a scared smile on his face. 

"Will you marry me?" He asked, his voice slightly shaky but he was composed like always. 

You began to tear up, your eyes burning and you didn't know what to say. 

You felt guilty for ruining everything but you had to follow your heart and though it told you to go to James, it also told you that you belonged with the sea. 

"I can't," you said and he looked up at you, blinking a few times in disbelief. 

For the first time in his life he was speechless as you rejected him, crushing any hopes.

"Is it because we're not courting because I don't mind waiting, I'd wait forever for you," he rambled, getting back onto his feet, the ring heavy in his hand. 

"I can't," you repeated, unable to say anything else. 

You watched the moment that his heart shattered as if it were in slow motion and you didn't know what to say to him. 

You were both frozen in time, neither of you sure what to say to one another, the silence uncomfortable. 

"I'm sorry James," you said, your voice shaky as hot tears welled up in your eye, making your vision blurry. 

"Why?" He asked, heartbroken.

You couldn't give him a reason why you wanted to leave, the words getting caught in your throat as you choked on your emotions. 

The tears began to stream down your face and you ran out, unable to look at him anymore without knowing how much you'd ruined things for both of you by turning him down. 

You didn't want to look into his eyes anymore and see the heartbreak from your rejection. You couldn't bear it. 

As he watched you run through the doors, he remembered meeting you for the first time when you were 16 and he was 20. You had been with your father and he hadn't seen you for long but the mischievous glint in your eyes had drawn him to you instantly like a midas touch. 

The next time he saw you was when you were 18 and you came back from finishing school and he fell for the beautiful and elegant person you had grown into. 

From then on you two had become friends but after you had admitted your feelings to him, he knew he'd never think of you as that again. 

For months the two of you had been stealing conversations and smiles from across rooms but now he was ready to make it official. 

But you had turned him down and he didn't know what to do. 

All of his dreams about the two of you at your wedding, dancing across the floor with you in a white dress and him in his navy apparel. It was perfect. 

He pushed his shoulder back, his head held high as he began to walk out of the room, trying to ignore the burning behind his eyes as he nursed his heart from your rejection. 

Maybe he had read it wrong, that you were just playing around. 

"James, where did she go?" His older sister asked as she spotted him in the ball. 

She had just watched you run out of the ballroom, tears streaming down your face as you tried to escape the pressures of the life you had been thrust into. 

"I don't know," he said, his voice heavy with heartbreak as he walked out of the room. 

He had told his sister because he needed his mother's ring. He wanted to propose to you in the most perfect way but he had never expected you to refuse. He thought you loved him. 

You stood at the docks, hands clasped in front of you as you talked to the man on the plank of the ship as you tried to barter your way on. 

He called your name and you turned around before looking back at the pirate, holding your money out. The man nodded, holding his hand out and gesturing for you to come onto the ship. 

You didn't look back at James Norrington again. You couldn't bear to look back at him and see the heartbreak in his eyes. 

You just listened as he yelled out your name into the distance, the sound a half sob and a half angry yell. 

Two years later, you stood at the docks of the same port you had left from years ago as you watched your captain, Jack Sparrow, have a run in with the law. 

You stayed hidden, knowing he was going to make his escape but you froze as you saw him there. 

He looked no different then before and your heart skipped a beat as you remembered that day you had left him. 

You thought back to the moment you dropped his hand, leaving him out on the balcony on his own. 

He had given you his heart that day and you had dropped it, watching as it shattered like glass on the floor in front of you and you had acted like you hadn't cared. 

You wanted to talk to him again, explain it all. Explain why you had to get away from the suffocating life but you froze when you saw him wrap his arm around Elizabeth Swann. 

She was two years younger than you and you couldn't believe that he would ever date her. He had never shown interest in her when you wet around and you assumed they had an almost familial bond. 

You could only assume what the town had said about you once you had left, that you would have been a lovely bride if you hadn't left, that you were delusional, that you were a criminal, that your mother had beaten you. 

You just hoped that Elizabeth could give him what you couldn't, that she could fix the broken pieces of him in the way that you had. 

With a heavy heart, you turned away, knowing that Elizabeth would never refuse his proposal or break his heart in the same way that you had. 

He noticed you in that moment, his heart sinking as he realised that you were with Jack, that you'd really chosen that pirating life. 

You thought he wouldn't remember you but he did and he longed to reach for you but as you walked away, you both knew it wouldn't be right to deal with all the champagne problems. 

#james norrington #james norrington x reader #james norrington x you #james norrington fanfic #james norrington fanfiction #commodore norrington #commodore norrington x reader #norrington #mj writes nonsense #evermore celebration #jack davenport #potc #potc fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean #pirates of the carribean: dead men tell no tales #pirates of the carribean x reader #pirates of the Caribbean fanfiction #mj 500 followers evermore celebration #mj 500 followers celebration

[imaginepirates]

An Unexpected Reunion

Essentially, this is a sort of sic-fic for an anon who wanted to see the reader look after James. After his stint in Tortuga, when he doesn't have the strength to care for himself, he ends up on the Pearl, and the reader helps him out. The two just so happen to be previously acquainted—the reader is a pirate James once had in custody. Mild angst ensues.

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @viper-official @hellspawn-brownies @groovy-lady @ghoulishbehaviour @wordsinwinters

~3k words

~~~~~~~

If you knew one thing about former Commodore James Norrington it was this: he did not know how to take a break. 

Even now, as you watched him struggle to keep upright, he didn’t quite seem to understand the disadvantage he was at. He wavered, leaning hard on the ship’s rail before trying to stand on his own. He convulsed a little, as if he might throw up, and though you wouldn’t have been surprised, a fresh wave of pity rolled over you. 

You had feared him, once. Done your best to keep out from under his iron grasp of the law. You’d failed, too. Other than Elizabeth, you were the person aboard the Pearl who knew him best. I knew his prison cells, too, you reminded yourself. 

He looked up at you, and you made eye-contact. There was a foggy recognition in his face, and you watched the gears in his head turn as he attempted to make sense of who you were. 

“Am I that hard to remember?” You walked toward him, hoping he wouldn’t fall on you. “I’m offended,” you teased. 

Norrington looked you over with disgust, as if he were in a position to do so. “I arrested you.”

“I’m flattered you recall.”

He frowned. “You escaped.

“I hope that’s not a sore spot?”

Norrington shot you a venomous glare, though there didn’t seem to be much actual hatred behind it. Oh, it had been one for the ages. The escape had been anything but easy, you’d give him that, and most of it had been the opportunity of chance, but you were one of the few, if perhaps the only, pirate to have escaped the young officer. You’d hoped never to see him again, to boast your tale without being  caught a second time. You’d even left the Caribbean for a time to evade him. Now Jack shared your fame, though on a technicality, you knew, and here poor Norrington had to put up with you both. 

You’d never expected to meet him again, and certainly not like this, brought so low. You hadn’t even known the world was capable of bringing a man like him to his knees. 

“You look like you just crawled out of a pigsty.” You frowned, hoping you weren’t right. 

Norrington smirked, an expression you’d never seen on the man, and it was not a particularly pleasant thing to see. “Sparrow employs from interesting places.”

You sighed. “At least let me help you not look like hell?”

“What would you care?” Norrington cast you a suspicious glance, though he let you wrap a stabilizing arm around his shoulders. 

“You didn’t let me look like shit when it was your ship I was on,” you mumbled, somewhat reluctantly. 

In truth, James Norrington had taken shockingly good, if not necessarily tender, care of you while you were his prisoner. It may have been humiliating at times; being ordered to wash, getting inspected by the ship’s surgeon, and having your hair shorn to prevent lice; but it had kept you healthy, and, in Norrington’s reasoning, kept you alive until your due time at the gallows. That, and rendering you incapable of getting his crew sick. Though you had cursed his name every day, you knew he hadn’t needed to go to such lengths. 

Surprise crossed the man’s face, but he said nothing. You helped him belowdecks to a rather empty store room, bracing him on the stairs to keep him upright. You left him a moment, returning with a basin of water, some cloth, and a comb, hoping that it might do something for his raggedy appearance. 

“The wig has to go.” 

James snatched it off his head, regarding the thought with reluctance. “It’s one of the last reminders of home.”

“Which is half the reason you need to get rid of it,” you said, tone softening. You took it from his hands, setting it out of sight. “It’ll only make you more miserable.” You pushed the coat off his shoulders as well; it was well overdue for a meeting with a washing board.

For a while, you stood in silence, James letting you wash his face with the cloth, trying to get mud out of his hairline. He scrubbed down his shins and forearms, rolling up tattered sleeves to expose newly tanned skin. There were scars there, too, old ones and new, and you remembered an occupation in the Navy was every bit as dangerous as piracy was. 

“You gave me one of those.” Norrington interrupted the silence, rubbing his thumb over a small scar on his left arm. “Capturing you wasn’t as easy as planned. You nearly gave me another, too, when you tried biting me.”

You laughed, taken aback. You’d forgotten about it—you lashed out at him when he made the surgeon wash and cut your hair. 

“It wasn’t funny,” he said, but he was smiling all the same. “I thought you were going to take off a finger.”

“Oh, I wanted to. I do hope you aren’t thinking of returning the favor.”

“Does this mean my hair is next?”

“It certainly does. I’m going to have to pull all manner of debris out of it, aren’t I? Maybe I should’ve grabbed gloves.”

James snorted. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor.”

“I could say the same about you.” You moved to stand behind him where he sat on a barrel, taking the comb in your hands and gently teasing knots out of the ends of his hair. 

James’ voice sobered. “Why are you doing this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you have every reason to hate me. I held you as my captive, and when you escaped, I spent months trying to hunt you down. If you hadn’t managed to evade me, I would’ve been your ticket to the gallows. I might as well have been the noose around your neck myself.”

You sucked in a breath, unprepared for the question. Not that you hadn’t expected it. Why am I helping him? “You were doing your job, I was doing mine. I’m glad you failed.”

“That still doesn’t explain—”

“Look,” you interrupted. “I’d heard all the stories. When you’re a pirate, and you get arrested, the Navy does all sorts of things to you. You beat us, you maim us, you starve and strip and use us as entertainment. As long as we’re still alive to dance the hangman’s jig at the end, you can do whatever you want to us.” You’d stopped combing, and you could tell, despite the fact that you couldn’t see his face, Norrington was listening intently. “You could have done all sorts of things to me, or let your men have their way.” Your voice grew soft again. “The worst thing you did was cut off my hair. Turns out I had lice anyway, so I probably should’ve thanked you for it.”

James turned to look at you, mouth half open to say anything, but there wasn’t anything to say. His gaze returned to his boots, and you couldn’t help but notice the tightness in his jaw. 

You changed the subject. “How long has it been since you’ve kept a meal down?”

“Too long,” he grimaced. “I’m afraid the rum has done its job.”

“Do you want me to get you something? You can wash the rest of yourself while I’m away.”

James only nodded, but you took that as a good enough sign to go in search of food. Ships didn’t carry much fresh food, but if you could find bread without weevils in it, you might be able to keep him from throwing up. 

You raided the kitchen, tapping biscuits against the wall to loose any bugs that may have burrowed into them. Before you headed back, you rested against the wall, taking a few steadying breaths. You didn’t like talking about your captivity, and you could never fully justify taking care of him. He was right: he might as well have been the hangman and the noose. 

“How’s the former Commodore?” Jack stood in front of you, teasing expression firmly in place. 

“Much better now that I’ve tossed the wig.”

Jack made a face at the mention of the wig. He’d made more than a few comments about how ‘that damned Commodore would be far more handsome without the stupid thing’. “I’m thinking about tossing him out entirely.”

“Jack.” You crossed your arms. 

“What?”

“Why did you agree to let him on, anyway?”

“I wouldn’t say I agreed, love. Agreements aren’t made at gunpoint.”

Norrington still wants him dead, then. “And yet he hasn’t gone through with it.”

Jack shrugged, as if he hadn’t given the matter much thought. You knew better, of course. He turned to leave, but not before throwing a comment over his shoulder. “He’s not a killer.”

By the time you got back to James, he had his hair mostly untangled and was struggling to find a way to keep it out of his face. You stepped in, handing him the bread and braiding his hair back with practiced fingers. There was a weight to the action, and you felt it acutely, twisting strands of long, damp hair together, surprised by its length, wondering how Norrington could’ve kept it tucked under his wig like this, and you knew he felt it too. 

“Eat,” you told him. “And try not to puke on me.”

He stuck the bread skeptically in his mouth, as if expecting it to taste like the bottom of a muddy boot. It was somewhat awkward to watch him, but you were right to keep your focus on him; it wasn’t long before he had his eyes closed against an obvious wave of nausea. You placed a hand on his back, rubbing his shoulder gently in hopes that it might distract him. 

“I must seem pathetic like this.”

“You’ve seen me pretty low, too, so I can hardly judge.” James scoffed, but didn’t pull away from your touch. 

“At least you had it in you to escape. Which,” he turned to you, eyebrows raised, “you never have explained to me.”

“Has that been bothering you all these years?” You couldn’t help but feel somewhat smug, knowing you got the best of a man who was, by all means, smarter than you, and who’d had many more resources on hand. 

“Obviously,” he drawled, though he seemed more amused than embarrassed.

“Well, it was mostly luck. You had me locked up pretty tight.” That was an understatement. Beyond the obvious fact that you’d been behind bars, thick ones at that, there were two guards posted outside the brig at all times. Not to mention the leagues between you and any sign of shore. You may have been a fairly good pirate, but those were bad odds. 

It had been the mailing ship, in the end, that had been your key to salvation. “I’ll forever be thankful that your holding cells had—and still have—one major flaw, not that I’m telling you what it is.” At James look of annoyance, you smiled. “Sorry. Old habits and all that.” Half pin-barrel hinges, you thought to yourself before continuing. “I also, through virtue of talking marines, knew the mail carrier had shown up. It gave me just the blossom of hope, and the opportunity, I needed.”

The door guards reduced from two to one as one of them headed off, presumably in the direction of mail. And why should they have worried? You hadn’t been able to cause any trouble, even when you were taken out of your cell for inspection by the ship’s surgeon. So that left you with one marine to deal with, and one iron door to pop off its hinges, which you did with the conveniently placed bench inside your cell. 

The clattering of the door got the marine running into the room, leaving the door to the brig wide open for your escape. All it took was an elbow to the gut and a knee to the face and the poor man was on the ground. You’d almost felt bad about it. Almost. But you saved your pity and ran like hell, scurrying up to one of the gun decks before anyone knew you were missing. 

“Then came the tricky part,” you mused. “I had to jump out of a gun port without anyone noticing, then scramble onto the mail carrier somehow. By all accounts it shouldn’t have worked.” But something had happened on deck which caught quite a bit of attention, and you were left to plop into the ocean below. “I’d never been so happy to be swimming in my life. I made it onto one of the lower decks of the other ship, through another gunport, and hid in a storage room until it reached St. Augustine.”

James grimaced. “You have no idea the strings I had to pull to get my men into that city.”

You shrugged. St. Augustine was a Spanish city, and you had no doubt tensions between Norrington and the city officials had run high. “I was already out by then. Seems those strings weren’t pulled fast enough.”

“No.” Your hand still sat on his back, though he’d managed to finish the bread. A light sheen of sweat dotted his forehead, a symptom you’d known to expect from an alcoholic, and you reached for the washcloth to wipe it away. “What if they had been?” His tone took on a miserable note.

You wiped the cloth across his face, your free hand gently holding the side of his head still. “Then you would have caught me, and I would be dead.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it?” You moved to the back of his neck, where sweat had begun to run into his shirt collar. “We led lives that were diametrically opposed. We both knew what that meant. I ran that risk willingly.”

You continued with the cloth, never dropping the hand from his head, and though it may have been your imagination, he seemed to lean into the touch. You wondered how long it had been since anyone had shown him a hint of tenderness—since before his arrival in Tortuga? Longer?

James changed the subject. “Once you’re done making sure I’m not puking on myself, what do you plan to do with me?”

“Do with you?” You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t plan to do anything with you—or to you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You didn’t miss the flush that crept up his neck at your teasing. You found it kind of sweet, if anything, that he continued to have the bashful streak Elizabeth had told you so much about. “I hope you’ll consider staying around more than a week so I can get to know you better, though.”

“You do?” He turned to you, his surprise genuine. It hurt you a little to see, but you supposed it was to be expected. If your roles were reversed, would he be saying the same?

“You’ve been given a unique opportunity, Ex-Commodore. You have the chance to start over with a group of people who don’t particularly like you, and you have the chance to make a home with them. We can be a close-knit group, you know, us pirates.” You smiled. “I’d take that chance if I were you.”

“I’m not sure I have much of a choice. The admiralty wants my head.”

“Better give them a good reason for it, then.”

James laughed at that, and some of the heaviness in the air dissipated. He looked markedly better now that he’d relaxed and some of the color had returned to his face. He could even be handsome, you supposed. You hadn’t let yourself think of it during your capture, though he had looked dashing in that uniform, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you heard multiple women had eyed him with eager interest back in Port Royal.

He’d been a different man then. You couldn’t help the serious tone that crept into your voice as you spoke. “You’ll take better care of yourself after this, yes?”

He sighed. “I don’t suppose I have much of a choice in that, either. I can’t really make things worse.”

The words did nothing to assure you. “You owe it to yourself, you know.” Your hand had fallen from his face, but you placed it there again, drawing his eyes to yours. “No matter what happens to you, no matter how low you think you’ve gotten, you still deserve your own care.”

James looked too lost for words, instead turning away shyly with no little amount of shame. 

“Hey,” you softened your voice. “You’ll learn. Here, with us. Most of the crew have spent their entire lives looking out for themselves. And we’re the lowest of the low; the poorest, the drunkest, the most battered and beaten and worn. We still take care of ourselves, even when we sometimes wash up in the brig of a Naval ship. We’ll teach you how to quit carrying shame.”

James looked back up at you, nodding. He kept your hand in place with one of his, callouses from his palm brushing against your skin. You ran your fingers through his hair with your other hand, gently carding through dark tresses, and when he closed his eyes, you could feel him suppressing tears. 

He took a steadying breath, bracing himself before he could open his eyes. “Thank you. For all of this. I hope I can repay you for it, someday.”

“Given the shitty circumstances under which we tend to look after each other, let’s hope not, actually.”

He smiled wearily, and you moved to sit on a barrel across from him. The voyage ahead was long and likely not without its dangers, and having Norrington as a friend through it all didn’t seem like a terrible prospect.

As you talked on, sharing stories as sailors did, you knew he’d make it. Of course he would. A man who had the dedication to chase you across the Caribbean for months had it in him to live with you for a few weeks. You’d already survived each other once. 

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #james norrington #james norrington x reader #norrington #commodore norrington #potc fanfiction #pirate #pirates

[t-annuki]

Quick sketch of him. I'm in my Norrington era

#fan art #art #fanart #potc #potc fanart #potc art #potc norrington #norrington #james norrington #curse of the black pearl #james norrington x oc #the curse of the black pearl #james norrington x reader #pirates of the caribbean norrington #pirates of the carribean #commodore #commodore norrington #james deserves better #admiral norrington

[whirlybirbs]

100% support the slutty norrington one off <3

WINE-EYED  ;  j.n.

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

pairing: james norrington x f!reader

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

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

"You always did love her."

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

He deserves that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You deserve that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You always were an impressive shot.

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

You were different from Elizabeth.

You always had been.

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

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

You can feel his eyes on you.

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

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

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

You never admitted your feelings for him.

Not before now.

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

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

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

You were friends, once.

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

“Now look at us.”

Two tired souls, each as lost as the other.

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

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

His voice is softer now.

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

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

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

His voice was colder than he intended.

You wince.

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

His eyes snap away again.

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

His eyes are soft.

Your lashes flutter.

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

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

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

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

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The storm rears upon them sooner than anyone expected.

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

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

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

Tripoli. The Dauntless. Hundreds of men.

Tripoli. The Dauntless. Hundreds of men.

Tripoli. The Dauntless. Hundreds of men.

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

Tripoli. The Dauntless. Hundreds of men—

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

“HOLD FAST!”

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

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

Somehow, you stay upright.

But, it’s like drowning.

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

Your hands are bleeding.

Lightning cracks close, and you try to breathe.

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

The rogue wave hits the Pearl hard.

You hit the deck harder.

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

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

James is there.

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

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

“GET BELOW DECK.”

All you can do is nod.

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

The animals one level down are panicked.

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

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

Your head is pounding.

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

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

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

Then, James.

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

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

Your nod is far from convincing.

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

James sees it.

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

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

The act is enough to wind you.

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

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

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

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

You’re exhausted.

And so is he.

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

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

Nor you him.

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

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

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

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

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You have no idea where you are.

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

The crew needed this after that storm.

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

From across the crowded tavern, Lizzy offers a smile.

You honor it with a commemorative swig.

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

Not very quiet, though.

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

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

Had he been so stupid?

Had he been so damn blind?

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

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

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

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

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

“Mind if I join you...?”

You turn, eyes pulled away from the moon.

James’ eyes are soft.

You give him a consenting nod.

It gives you a moment to take him in.

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

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

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

Now, he smells like gun powder and rum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s watching you again.

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

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

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

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

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

“I am sorry.”

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

You never imagined an apology.

His thumb brushes over your knuckles and your swallow roughly.

“James—”

Suddenly, there’s a hand on your cheek.

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

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

You feel like a girl again.

“You had a duty—”

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

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

It’s his turn to be robbed of breath.

You speak quietly.

“...You’re a good man, James.”

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

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

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

His eyes flick to your mouth.

All you can muster is a nod.

And then he kisses you.

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

He... He feels hale and whole.

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

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

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

And then, a voice.

“’Bout time, I’d reckon.”

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

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

#james norrington #potc #potc imagine #james norrington x reader #james norrington imagine #pirates imagine #commodore james norrington #pirates of the caribbean imagine #potc x reader #WHAT DO I EVEN TAG THIS #THIS MOVIE WAS AGES AGO

[black--cherryy]

Pirates of the caribbean imagine

—

Pov: If u were the captains daughter/they were fathers

☁️ Fluff ☁️

Blackbeard:

Ur just like Angelica. Hot, Badass and the first mate

Unlike ur father, u still have a warm heart

Ur beautiful and a pirates queen

Always dressed nicely and a very good with swords.

U would give ur life for ur dad as u love him very much

He wouldn't spend much time with u as he sits locked away all the time but u still could feel his love for u

U will be always his little girl and beloved daughter

Davy jones:

Ur a mermaid but not like those on whitecap bay.

Ur mom drank during her pregnancy from the fountain of youth and that's how u became a mermaid

Ur the queen of the seas and ur beauty brought a lot of unfortunate sealers to u

Ur voice is angel like and there are many legends of u

The whole crew adores u and won't let a hair fall from ur head.

Ur clothes would be very soft looking and match ur petite body

As cold and cruel as ur father is, he still has some love left which is all urs

He would only open his heart to u and be who he really is

Barbossa:

U would have a rivalry with Angelica

U would rather be softer but some of a baddie as well

U love listening to ur dad's stories about the see and ur sweet looks could melt everyones heart

U would be bothered by Jack and strictly follow ur dads orders and every step

He would adore u and never let harm happen to u.

U would be always dressed elegantly but still in a pirate kinda way.

He would always bring u with him and teach u about the pirates life

The both of u would make a lot of jokes and eat apples together

U rather prefer using guns but can also swing a sword

James norrington:

U would dislike pirates but still be on the sea when ur dad allows it

He's very strict about that but only for ur own good

He would be very protective over u and even gives his life

He would tell u a lot of stories and poems, read books to u or just spend the evening talking with u

He's a soft and warm hearted dad

U would be dressed very elegant but still wear pants

U look just like an angel

Ur also very clingy when it comes to ur dad

He's a very proud dad

Cutler beckett:

Yeah u would be a real princess

Not as arrogant as ur dad but u definitely like to order people around

Ur dad would make every wish of u come true

U would be always very elegant and expensive dressed

He would rarely let u come on the ship with him

He wants u to rather stay on land and rule at home while he's gone.

After his death u took his place as a strict lord

U will get whatever u want but still be thankful and sweet

He will always give u little but expensive gifts as he loves to see u smile

Yes he can be good but only to u

#pirates of the caribbean #pirates #jack sparrow #captain jack sparrow #captain barbossa #blackbeard #james norrington #commodore norrington #norrington #davy jones #cutler beckett #pirates x reader #dead mans chest #at world's end #curse of the black pearl #on stranger tides #elizabeth swann #angelica teach #captain teach #calypso #tia dalma

[madhatterbri]

Loyalties | J.N.

Summary: "You return her back to me, and you will be reinstated all your previous titles. No questions asked,"

@plentyoffandoms

James Norrington stared at the sword in his hand. His thoughts ran wild. How he missed being part of the British Royal Navy just as his father before him. He felt lost without it like a piece of him was gone. The other man spoke like he could read his mind.

"You return her back to me, and you will be reinstated with all your previous titles. No questions asked,"

The older gentleman's words immediately captured his attention. He was dumb struck. The one thing he wanted more than anything dangled in front of him. The opportunity to be a Commodore once more. All for him if he returned Y/N to her father.

"A gentleman's agreement?" James asked with little hesitation.

Y/N's father nodded. "Take the sword to show my good faith,"

🏴‍☠️

James managed to find Y/N and the crew without being caught talking to the enemy. He slipped into the room and stopped seeing her. Captain Y/N looked absolutely worried. The pirate next to her pointed towards James. Her eyes followed to meet his. A sigh of relief and a huge smile appeared on her face.

"I believe the search party for Mister Norrington is dismissed. You all may leave. We will leave the island in the morning," she announced and waved her hand to shoo them. The men grumbled at first yet were happy to be free from finding a man that hated all of them.

Once they left, she ran to him and hugged him. Her arms wrapped securely around his waist. Her head rested against his chest and listened to his heartbeat. To his embarrassment, the organ seemed to quicken at her affection.

"Captain Y/N, I pray my absence wasn't too hard on you," he spoke, trying to remain in control of his emotions. No one had ever cared so much about him. She pulled away from him.

"There has been rumors of my father and his men nearby. My men did a search, and they didn't find a trace of him. I was so worried he got you," she sighed and stared in his eyes. He stared back at hers. Doubt now filled his mind.

Where exactly does his loyalties lie?

🏴‍☠️

#fanfiction #potc fanfiction #james norrington x y/n #james norrington x reader #james norrington #commodore norrington #commodore james norrington

[callmejod]

In a wave of inspiration (and simping) by both @imaginepirates and @luthienbrandybuck I will be writing a longer fic with my current obsession - James Norrington.

For the time being, I'm opening asks for headcanons, ficlets, smut etc. Smut will take longer as I've never written it before, so yeah.

Ma boi James needs more content on this platform so I'm taking it upon myself.

Yours truly - callmejod

Feast you eyes upon da baby

#commodore norrington #james norrington x reader #james norrington #potc #pirates of the caribbean #jack davenport

[demigoddessqueens]

Imagining an AU where James lives….

But I can easily imagine a scenario where Norrington and his s/o are like that Victorian couple who break face and laugh while trying to hold still for a portrait

(He’d have the cutest smile 😁)

#potc #potc imagine #potc x reader #pirates of caribbean #pirates of the caribbean #james norrington #james norrington x reader #commodore norrington #headcanons #jack davenport

[shuckfacedcarrot]

Thought I had a great new idea for a book only to figure out it's basically just a James Norrington fanfic. Then again who doesn't love Commodore Norrington? I haven't written fanfiction in ages but if anyone's interested I might just go ahead 👀

#james norrington #commodore norrington #pirates of the carribean #pirates of the carribean x reader #james norrington x reader #potc #potc imagine #dead man's chest #potc 2 #jack davenport #james norrington imagine

[oneinajuniverse]

⭑ Pirates of the Caribbean Masterlist

↳ My Pirates of the Caribbean works

Captain Jack Sparrow / Click Here

Will Turner / Click Here

Commodore Norrington / Click Here

Lord Beckett / Click Here

Leave a req here for more characters ⭒

#pirates of the caribbean masterlist #pirates of the caribbean #captain jack sparrow #will turner #commodore norrington #lord beckett #pirates of the caribbean x reader

[jacksparrowfanpage]

"Warmth"

Requested by: No One

Prompt: Something I thought of at 2:07 AM

Warnings: Death, Kinda suicidal thoughts?

The rain doesn’t even bother him anymore. It dripped down his face, onto his chest and down his legs. His clothing was soaked, watching the endless waves crash and go. He barely felt it anymore. 

All he wanted was to find some kind of peace within himself. 

Jack knew you died because of him, because he dragged you into this life. If he were to just leave you at Tortuga, with all the other ladies fawning over him. You would still be alive. With him, right now. If he hadn’t been so reckless with his decisions in life, and hadn’t gone into that battle, you would be alive. 

Slowly he got closer to the edge of the pearl, the waves starting to roughen the sea. 

“I know what you want to do.” Jack quickly spun on his heels, hearing your voice. 

There you were. The rain left you alone, to be as dry as the desert as you emitted a soft glow. 

“I must be imagining things.” Jack mumbled, pure shock coursing through him. He couldn’t even move. 

“It was never your fault, darling.” You spoke softly and lovingly, a soft smile resting on your face. You couldn't tell if the captain was crying, or the rain was making the illusion of that. 

“I want to be with you, so much. This world.. has no color without you here.” His voice cracked, and you just smiled. “If that is what you wish, my dearest.” 

A rough wave hit the boat, sending the captain overboard. The crew rushed over, watching their captain disappear into the abyss of the sea. 

You went down with him, just watching him panic. “Just let it take you,” You whispered softly. Jack finally allowed the warmth to consume him. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A large gasp came from Jack as he woke up in his cabin, you sound asleep next to him. He frantically looked around, his eyes widening. 

“Rum is doing things for me I never want to experience.”

#pirates #pirates of the caribbean #commodore norrington #angst #oneshot #jack sparrow #captain jack sparrow #james norrington #jack sparrow oneshot #jack sparrow x reader #death

[captain-camille]

_𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞_

‣ Jack Sparrow x f!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

It took nerves to hinder your eyes from rolling.

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

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

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

You suspected him pleased now.

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

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

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

For as long as possible.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had to. Hell would come upon him.

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

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

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

It did little to soothe your nerves, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not even thanks were left for your input.

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

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

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

Nearly scoffing, the focus of your eyes blurred.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked ridiculous. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As if she felt sorry for you.

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

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

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

Maybe you would find solace on the quarterdeck instead?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Children with this man? No.

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

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

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

You sighed heavily, taking another sip.

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

They were burning on your skin now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

You didn't dare to breathe, mouth agape.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The blue stones seemed somewhat black tonight.

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

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

Then, you seemed put.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he tricking the Commodore?

Suddenly, Jack chuckled, clearly having seen your expression.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This man had nerves. 

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, it’s no rum but-“

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

Carefully, with his pinky stretched out with decorum.

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

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

“Pray tell“.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sparrow was trying to cheer you up.

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

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

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

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

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

You enthralled him.

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

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

Out of sight.

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

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

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

But he was still a lawless pirate.

A prisoner, even.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look 'ere, luv“.

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

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

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

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

Why would he think you needed a compass?

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

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

He chuckled beautifully, shaking his head with eyes closed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You peered down at the inconspicuous looking box.

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

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

Magic. 

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

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

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

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

He was being honest, you felt it.

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

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

The last for now, at least.

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

𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐨 𝐡𝐨

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

#jack sparrow x reader #captain jack sparrow #potc x reader #potc #jack sparrow fic #fanfiction #jack sparrow x y/n #pirates of the caribbean #jack sparrow #Pirates of the Caribbean fanfic #captain jack sparrow x yn #jack sparrow x f!reader #language

[imaginepirates]

Marrying James — Femme Edition

For @groovy-lady, to accompany the enby version.

James had been thinking about proposing to you for a while, probably a few months, but he was still horribly nervous to actually do it. He wants things to go smoothly, and wants a little privacy for the occasion, so he'd pull you away somewhere nice while still socially appropriate, like a more secluded area of a garden or a section of Fort Charles with a view. When you actually accept, he'd find himself at a loss. But you can tell through his bright smile how happy he is, and you can't help but feel the same as you get to watch him let his guard down for once. 

The wedding planning is great because he's actually invested in it. He helps you pick out the colors and taste-tests with you, and he has a pretty good sense of what things aesthetically work together. I can certainly see a blue/white/gold theme going, but with lighter tones than the typical navy standard. 

And, when things get overwhelming, the Swanns are there to help. Oh, James wants to take care of it all himself, but Weatherby insists on lending a hand, and you simply can't turn down Elizabeth, who's decisive when you're not and gets things done when you're too exhausted to handle it all. Not to mention, she has impeccable taste, and would help make sure the aesthetics were up to perfection.

You’re probably wearing a dress, given the standards of the times, but whatever you wear is made of gorgeous silk brocade that compliments your husband-to-be’s military uniform. There is, of course, copious amounts of lace, though the accessories likely feature a modest set of pearls. The floral arrangements host a fun variety of native plants like hibiscus and golden poui that capitalize on your life in the Caribbean as opposed to England. 

The service is modest; James doesn't need the whole of Port Royal at the wedding, even if people may be peeking in through the windows. After all, their beloved Commodore is getting married, and they want to be in the know about it. Elizabeth can't always be the one who knows the tea. 

The Navy boys are ecstatic. The group of you are good friends already, of course, because Gillette and Groves couldn’t keep their noses out of James’ personal life (especially Gillette), so they’ve gotten to know you, whether by meeting you “on accident” or later when James finally showed you around Fort Charles. They want to help in any way they can, though they have little experience with wedding planning. But they’re there for moral support, particularly if James gets called away during the process and you’re left to your own devices. 

As the wedding draws nearer, James begins to have his doubts. Not about you, but rather about himself. He thinks back to his own family, how cold his parents could be, how lonely he could get. How, even within the privacy of their own home, his family kept to societal expectations and standards. He never wants you to feel like you can’t talk to him, and he wants your home to be full of warmth. He wants to share his time and space and thoughts and experiences with you, something he didn’t get growing up. He’s so scared that he’ll accidentally recreate a mirror image of the only family he’s ever known, and he couldn’t subject you to a life that depressing. 

You’ll have to get him to calm down, to come to bed, to eat regular meals. He has an unhealthy habit of, when he’s nervous, trying to distract himself with work. This leads to distracting himself from other important things, too. Thankfully, he’s whipped for you, and you can get him to do just about anything pretty easily. A guiding hand on his arm or shoulder and a word of reassurance here or there would go a long ways to James’ getting any proper rest leading up to the wedding. 

James looks at this as foreshadowing into your future; he realizes how easily you can take care of him, a concept he’d never really thought of before, and it melts him. He’s always envisioned himself as the provider, meeting that masculine expectation. On the other side of that, though, he never considers the care he might be receiving. So, as you help him de-stress, it dawns on him that your marriage may truly bring him to bliss. He knows you have his back, that you can be a source of strength for him unlike any he’s ever had. 

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—James is a crier. He can’t keep himself from tearing up at the wedding, even before he sees you. His men, even Groves, are rather useless at pep-talks, so he just ends up getting excitedly hugged by those closest to him. This is where he first starts to choke up; it occurs to him that everyone present really does care about him, and it only gets worse when he sees you walking down the aisle. 

His mother is there, and while it sets him on his guard a little at first, she’s supportive of the match and pleasant to have around. She couldn’t be prouder of James for finding someone he loves who also befits his station, as she couldn’t, and she couldn’t be more pleased with you. 

The thing about having a wife, in particular, is the potential for children. James would never, ever, actually expect that of you, to carry his children, but if you wanted to, he would be bursting with adoration. He would have you both think on it for a while, of course. Children are a huge commitment, and he doesn't want to influence you toward that decision too quickly. That being said, he wants them desperately. He fears being like his own father—emotionally withdrawn and separate from his family—and it would take some encouragement to actually convince him he'd make a good dad. But he'd try. He'd try so hard and it would make all the difference. 

Alright, alright. Now to the part you really want: the wedding night. 

James doesn’t actually have much experience when it comes to endeavors below the belt, so he’s a bit nervous himself (haha). That being said, he does a good job of not showing it, knowing full well that you have much more reason for anxiety. He starts things slowly, taking your face in his hands and kissing you, giving you some time to relax into his embrace. He’s a consent king, so whenever he moves to do something new he asks if it’s alright. 

James is still a flustered mess as you begin to undress, watching with wide eyes despite trying not to. He’s curious, too, and helps you with your dress and undergarments, getting his lips on every new inch of exposed skin. It’s gentle, though, and relaxed. He wants to explore you, to map you out. He’s shocked when you return the favor, ridding him of his cravat with skilled fingers, carefully loosening buttons and ties he assures you he can do himself. Both of you are surprised to hear him gasp at the kisses you place to his chest and the way his eyes drift shut with the pleasure of it all. He has much the same effect on you, though, and he smirks a little when he manages to get a moan out of you, which you’re desperately embarrassed about. 

Things aren’t perfect—neither of you fully knows what you’re doing—but you’re figuring each other out together, which ends up being an intimate bonding experience. You both have to place a lot of trust in each other, but it pays off. 

And an aesthetic board because I can't help myself...

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #james norrington #norrington #norrington x reader #james norrington x reader #potc headcanon #commodore norrington #headcanons #hcs #james norrington headcanon

[t-annuki]

"Please,come with me..." 🌹

Scene of a fic I was reading last night,of course Jimmy I'll follow you. It looks like a visual novel screen

#fan art #art #potc #potc norrington #james norrington x reader #norrington #james norrington x oc #james norrington #commodore norrington #pirates of the caribbean fanart #pirates of the carribean #pirates of the caribbean norrington

[socksracoon10]

Hi love here I come with my first spontaneous idea 🩷

Reader is the Commodore's sister but sick of the ways of society. When Jack saves Elisabeth, reader is the one who persuaded James not to kill Jack and also the one he happens to threat in order to escape. She’s somehow drawn to the Captain and later gives Will the keys to the cell to set him free. Jacks thoughts circle around her, too and they reunite when she swings last minute from the Dauntless over to the Interceptor to join the pirates making way❣️

Curious of The Seas

A/N: Literally fell in love with your ask oh my god, couldn't stop thinking about it before I began writing!! Thank you so much for this request! Pairings: Jack Sparrow x F!Reader, Will Turner x F!Reader (Platonic), James Norrington x F!Reader (siblings)

"Don't slouch, stand straight," Commodore Norrington hissed at you. You glared at your brother, curving your lips downward. You hated how strict and loyal he was to the British Crown and how he enforced his rules onto you, despite being his "precious baby sister." 

Your brother didn't hate you, but he sure did a good job of making you hate him. He was pacing his quarters back and forth, rehearsing what he would say to Miss Elizabeth Swann upon meeting her. You rolled your eyes at the pathetic scene, realizing that if your brother were to marry Miss Swann you were next on the list for the most eligible bachelorette in Port Royal. Your body cringed at the thought and you wriggled your back to shake off the eerie feeling crawling down your spine and focused on trying to ease your brother at the moment.

"James, there is no point in stressing over something as simple as this. Tell her you are in love with-" You began but frowned when he interjected,

"Love? Don't be ridiculous!"

"So, you're not in love with her?" You inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no, I very much am in love with her. But it is not proper for a man such as myself to say trivial things to the daughter of the Governor!" Your brother reasoned and you sighed in an exasperated tone, shifting your gaze out the window.

Elizabeth had stared at you with a quizzical look on her face when your brother and you had first approached her. You both shared the same expression of disdain for the situation. It was very clear to see that she was indifferent to your brother and surely was the very last man that she had any interest for. You, on the other hand, dearly loved your brother and wanted to save him from any heartache that she would cause him. You chewed your lip nervously, watching them exchange a few words of greetings before walking away. The commodore glanced over his shoulder, mouthing a few warnings to reign your behavior in for the biggest moment of his life before stalking away.

Huffing in annoyance, you picked the ends of your dress up and marched past the Governor who was just about to start a conversation with you. He awkwardly shut his mouth and watched you walk away to stand on the other corner of the pillar where your brother and Elizabeth stood. He leaned backward to get a good look at you, sending you another glare before returning his full attention to the woman in front of him with a nervous smile. You sighed, gazing out to the sea. Your brother had taken you once beyond Port Royal when you were a little girl and he swore it was something he very much regretted; all you could ever do since then was talk about sailing the seas. You desired to travel across the world, collect artifacts, and live a free life. Your brother scoffed at your desires, stating that he would rather die than see his little sister galloping around like a pirate of all creatures.

As you gazed out into the horizons with a look of yearning, you heard the loudest splash from below. Peering over the edges of the wall, you frowned at the ripples that seemed to bloom near the rocks and you instantly pulled back from your position and walked around to notice your brother screaming Elizabeth's name.

"What did you do?" You exclaimed, resting a hand on his shoulder. He pulled away from your grasp, beginning to take his coat off but you grabbed hold of him,

"The rocks, James! She's lucky that she didn't hit them on her way down! Come, we can reach her at the docks!" You urged him, yanking his arm. He seemed instilled with distraught, at a loss for words, "She must've jumped by your mere presence!"

Your brother sent you a nasty scowl and the playful smirk on your lips faded away instantaneously. You knew this was no joking matter; the poor woman could've died on her way down and she was to be betrothed to him anyway. As your brother scampered off with the rest of the guards, you found your feet rooted to the ground as you stared up at the sky. Something was amiss. The clouds darkened and circled about gravely, and the sea no longer held its silky blue blanket to comfort you. Before you could try and comprehend what must've occurred, you felt an urgent tug around your arms and you sharply turned to find yourself facing the Governor.

"Come now, my dear, you mustn't dawdle around when my daughter's life is in danger!" He exclaimed and you frowned at his words, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him. Even if you wanted to help Elizabeth, there was surely no way you could swim into the waters with this puffy dress around you. You followed him down to the docks, pushing past the British officers to find yourself facing Elizabeth coughing up heaps of water from her lungs and then... a pirate.

With all the rifles surrounding him, you nearly thought they were aimed at your brother who stood in the way. You could only make out half his face, oblivious to the ensuing conversation that your brother was currently engaged in. You peeked around the Commodore's shoulder, carefully eyeing the strange man in your presence when his eyes flickered over to you for a sharp second before returning to your brother. Your breath hitched at the moment, taking in his disheveled and wet appearance as your brother remained as the shield between the man and you.

"He's a pirate," Your brother growled, his jaw clenching as he barked orders for his arrest. He ignored your gaping stare as he continued, "Sparrow, I assume?"

"Jack Sparrow?" You interjected, your mouth practically on the floor as you stared at him. The corner of the pirate's lips curved into a small smirk,

"It's Captain Jack Sparrow, love," He smiled with a wink. You smiled back before your brother forcefully shoved you behind him once again. He made a mental note to have a discussion with you about your behavior as soon as you returned home. He took the pirate's belongings and derided him for his lack of proper weapons, but it bothered him so deeply that you were so enchanted by the man. It irked him to think that his sister would fall foolish to a PIRATE of all people. He forcefully grabbed onto Jack's arm and began dragging him off before you cut him off,

"James! James!" You cried out, and your brother halted in his tracks and sent you a menacing scowl.

"Not another word from you, (Y/N)." He hissed, and you scoffed before pulling your skirt up ever so slightly to march up to your brother,

"This man, pirate or not, has just saved your betrothed's life! I suggest you at least show some mercy upon him!"

"One good deed is not enough to redeem a man's life of wickedness," Your brother corrected you as Jack was being handcuffed by a Redcoat.

"Though it seems enough to condemn him," Jack added, and you offered him a sympathetic look before turning to your brother with pleading eyes.

"Brother, please. I beg of you, consider an alternative for this man." You prodded him, as your eyes fell onto Elizabeth who smiled softly at your words.

"Please do so," Jack muttered, before dragging his bound hands around your neck. You gasped in response, tugging at the chains as your brother panicked.

"No one shoots!" The Commodore bellowed, holding his hands in the air, "Let go of my sister."

"Only if you return my belongings," Jack taunted with a haughty grin. He leaned closer to lowly utter into your ears, "You must be regretting your kindness, do you not?"

"I don't, but it seems that you'll regret it," You whispered, as you watched the guards hand in his belongings in a bundle. Jack nudged your back with his knee ever so lightly to grab hold of his things and you begrudgingly did so, before sharply turning around to face him.

"Now if you'll do me the pleasure... my, I don't think I know your name..." He said with a sly smirk. You frowned at him,

"It's Miss Norrington to you," You spat, placing his hat on. As you placed his sword, belt, and other personnel around him, you could feel his intense stare burning deep into you. If it was of lust or attraction, you did not know and at the moment did not necessarily care. Your mind was fixated on other things, and your brother was seething in rage as he watched Jack give him a look regarding your body against his that made him want to hurl. To think his sister was so close to a gruesome pirate! It was preposterous!

As you tied the last remaining string of his belt around him, you looked up at him with disgust. Not only was he a pirate, but this would be the talk of the town, and your brother's and your reputation would be spoiled. Your brother could easily regain his good fortune, but you were never as lucky. You hated the way the women would gossip and to think it was all spoiled over one man you decided to be too merciful with because your curiosity could not be controlled made you ready to commit arson.

"Is this how you repay me?" You hissed and the pirate smirked at your words,

"I saved your friend's life, and now you save me. Besides, you did after all wish for me to live. Now, suffer those consequences. When shall a beautiful lady such as yourself realize to never mess with a pirate?" He chuckled, before harshly turning you around with his gun aimed at your head. Your brother flinched at the sudden movement, making sure you were alright. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, you will always remember this as the day you almost caught Jack Sparrow," The pirate's voice boomed from behind you and the very next second you found yourself thrust upon your brother and Elizabeth. As Jack Sparrow hurriedly began his escape, he did not fail to include a personal message from his heart, "Thank you very much, Miss Norrington. I shall not ever forget such kindness!"

And you weren't ready to forget him, either. It would be for another reason. As the night raged on with a surge of pirates infiltrating Port Royal, you felt a growing desire to do something about it. Your brother had joined the Governor for his safety and left you at home to be tended to by the maids. Upon realizing that the front door would burst open regardless of the circumstances, you quietly slipped out the window in your nightly attire and made your way to the blacksmith's quarters where you knew for a fact that your good friend Will Smith would be. Will and you had grown as siblings; he was there for you more than your brother had been. He had anticipated your arrival anyway but found himself in jeopardy when his ears gathered the news that Elizabeth Swann had been abducted by the pirates. He was pacing around when you arrived and he quickly latched onto your shoulders,

"They've taken Elizabeth! I tried my best but-" Will began but you silenced him, bringing a hand to his mouth.

"I know what you must be going through. But there is not enough time. I heard you helped imprison Jack Sparrow." You whispered and he nodded his head, eyes wide as he tried to make the best of the situation, "Come, I have the key with me, we can both interrogate him and seek his help." Your hand fell to his own and led him towards the streets.

"Wait a minute," Will stopped you, and with a glance over your shoulder you already knew what he was about to say. He was going to prevent you from going. "(Y/N), I know you've always wished to escape Port Royal, but I cannot bring harm to you once you step foot onto the waters."

"Will," You chastised him, "I am no longer a little girl. I am very capable of handling my own matters."

"You are inexperienced, that's all I can say." Will rebuked your claim and you gasped at his words, before furrowing your brows,

"So are you!"

"Ah, but I shall be bringing Sparrow with me to help find Elizabeth."

"Oh, don't be so dull! I can help Sparrow and you as well. Do not prevent me from doing so! If it is out of fear that a pirate may do something towards a woman of my status, I assure you that no such thing will occur! If he dares to even look at me, I shall see to it that his eyes are gouged out by his blade!" You reasoned and Will took a step backwards, his lips parting in shock at your words. You had the spirit of a pirate in you that was for sure, and that was exactly what he feared.

"I cannot let you join. Your brother is... already facing loss," He replied in an awkward tone, considering how much he cared about Elizabeth, "He would be devasted to find you gone as well. Just stay put for now. I'm sure there shall be something more exciting for you in Port Royal."

You muttered a few unladylike curses under your breath and reluctantly offered him the key to the jail cell, "At least tell Sparrow that I was... delighted by his presence."

Will raised a suspicious eyebrow at your remark, unsure of how to respond. He nodded his head and then left you alone, as you brought your hands over your arms as your mind wandered towards the sea once again.

To say that Jack Sparrow was surprised by Will's statement regarding you would be an understatement. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that you so willingly offered him the key to his escape, considering how he had humiliated your brother and especially you in front of everyone at the docks earlier in the day. He chewed his lip, his eyes dilating at the thought of you. The way you stared at him in defiance, your temples rising and falling with the way you clenched your jaw. Of course, who could forget the sensation of your fingers pressed up against him as you fastened his belt? As much of the ladies' man that Jack was, there was something different about you. You weren't like Giselle or Scarlet, complaining about superficial things or just merely trying to get into his pants. He could tell there was this curious spirit fighting to break free when he first laid eyes on you. The way you cautiously peered over your brother's shoulder had made him... well, he certainly wouldn't say his heart skipped a beat. He wasn't a silly little boy. He was a man! A grown man, a pirate! CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow, mind you. And yet here he was, trying to justify to himself that what he felt for you was nothing more than just infatuation that would surely pass on.

But it didn't. It never did. While of course, his thoughts about stealing The Interceptor were his priority, he just couldn't stand still without his mind fleeting over to the very image of you, dressed in that regal bright blue gown and your hair all curled and pinned to form the most exquisite portrait of a woman he'd ever seen in his life. He smirked to himself at the thought of you, wondering what you must be doing at Port Royal at the moment. What if your brother had you married off to someone else? What if you were to live the rest of your life as a boring wife to an equally boring officer? He shook his head, wriggling himself free from those imaginative concoctions. He was a pirate, damn it. He had better things to think about than just a woman he had seen days ago.

"You've got to be kidding me," Your brother grumbled as he pushed past you. You had boarded The Interceptor with him, not because you had wanted to - even though you took every chance out on the sea with gratefulness - but because your brother was so worried about the possibility of your abduction that he wished you were beside him at all times. Including those incredibly still moments of him gazing out into the sea. To him, he seemed to have an air of control, all the world's burdens upon his shoulder. This was his duty. When you gazed out into the sea, however, it was a plethora of possibilities. The unmarked territories you could claim, the desire for you to seek out treasure from all corners. You could be free. And no one would stop you. Save your brother, but that was something he'd always do anyway. Your attention focused on The Dauntless a couple hundred meters away as you noticed flocks of the British crew on small boats were paddling towards the ship you were in. Your brother gazed through his telescope and snarled at the sight, hesitantly passing the device for you to see as well. From afar, you saw Will Turner and... Jack Sparrow? The pirate? Both of them were flapping their arms around trying to make use of the mast. You guffawed at the sight, laughing at them. You turned to face your brother who quickly reminded you with his gaze about your behavior and you swallowed the amusement away as fast as you could.

The two ships - The Dauntless and The Interceptor - were locked horns now and your brother ordered you to come with him to board The Dauntless and put an end to Sparrow's madness. You reluctantly agreed, your eyes scanning around to see any sight of the familiar pirate you had so longed to see. 

"Search every cabin, every hull," Your brother barked, before turning back to you, "And you stay close to me. Do not go wandering about like a fool like you always do." 

You glowered at him, electing not to anger him any further as you stood on the deck. You watched him disappear among the surge of officers onto The Dauntless. You sighed, pacing back and forth when you noticed two men swing over to The Interceptor. It was Will and Jack.

Eyes widening in surprise, you tried to call attention to the situation but your cries fell on deaf ears. You stomped your foot and watched Jack cut off the rope ties, one by one. His gaze was fixed downwards until he looked up momentarily, and there you stood. He stood there for a few more seconds, completely surprised by your presence. Deep down, as much as he hated to admit it, he feared that he would never see you again.

"What are you doing? Cut the rope!" Will cried out in confusion before he followed Jack's eyes to you. Jack looked upwards at the rope still connecting the two boats before turning back to you,

"Jump, Miss Norrington!" He instructed, and you stepped forward, holding onto a long piece of rope. Upon hearing your name, your brother rushed out of the Captain's Quarters, pushing past his men.

"(Y/N)!" He yelled, his eyes daring you to make another move. Realizing that this was the only opportunity to acquire what you had spent so long yearning for; the deep blue seas, the adventure, and the whimsical treasures, you sent him one final glance before running off the deck of The Dauntless and swinging onto The Interceptor. With the final rope now gone, and the ship sailing forward at full speed your brother looked at you as if you were dead to him.

When The Dauntless was far behind and there seemed to be no danger at the present moment, you walked towards your friend Will and the pirate beside him. Will seemed elated that you were there, and he hugged you so warmly that you nearly forgot that he was not related to you by blood. Releasing you from his arms, he sheepishly stepped aside as Jack Sparrow stepped forward.

"Miss Norrington, it is a pleasure to have you on board with us. I almost feared you might not have the guts to swing over," He teased, his hand graciously wrapping around your own as he kissed your fingers with such gentleness that it surprised you. You cracked half a smile at him, narrowing your eyes, before responding,

"You may call me (Y/N), and please, I never turn down an opportunity for adventure."

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[justsomerandomfanfic]

You, Me, And The Seven Seas - James Norrington X Female Reader

Title: You, Me, And The Seven Seas

James Norrington X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Will (Mentioned), Jack (Mentioned), Elizabeth (Mentioned), Elizabeth's dad (Mentioned), Reader's family (Mentioned), James's father (Mentioned), and Barbossa (Mentioned)

WC: 2,967

Warnings: James's drunk, alcohol mentioned, awkwardness, previous engagement to Elizabeth mentioned, kidnapping mentioned, mention of killing (No killing written), anxiety, yelling, fighting (verbal), angst, friends to enemies to lovers, weapons mentioned, Reader wears obvious pirate attire, confessions, and huge fluff ending

You stood in the back corner of the Black Pearl's deck, arms crossed as you leaned against the ebony wood. You stared at James as he swayed and stumbled, standing near the edge of the ship; looking sick from all the alcohol he ingested. He looked awful. Brown hair messy and tangled, put into a ponytail on his head. Outfit in complete ruins, ripped and haggard. His skin, dirty of sweat and grime… He was no longer the Commodore he used to be. Nor was he the man you used to know. 

There was an off tension in the air, no one on the ship spoke. Or, more importantly, no one had spoken to James since he "joined" the crew. Not Will, not Jack, and not even Elizabeth. Which you found odd. You thought out of everyone, besides yourself, that she'd speak to him. 

Well, you couldn't really say anything. Since his arrival… You hadn't said a word to him either.

You wanted to say something… Anything. James had been your friend. A long time ago. You had met as children, spending most of your time together. It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows though, when you were younger you had been kidnapped by pirates. And with some sort of luck, they didn't kill you. The Captain, Barbossa, surprisingly had mercy, and trained you. 

For the next couple of years, you were trained in the ways of becoming a pirate. You had also gone through a lot, Barbossa became a sort of father figure for you, and even for a while, you, Barbossa, and the crew were trapped under a curse. But you much preferred it to your old life of a daughter of a nobleman; trapped with teas and dresses. The only thing you missed from your old life was your friend James. You missed talking to him… You missed his smile; his laugh.

And yet, here he was. Only a few feet from you and you were too scared to go over to him. He hadn't even realized you were there no doubt. And your mind was racing as to what he might say. Would he be happy to see you? Or the opposite? Would he even remember you?

But as your mind was racing with what he could say, it was also racing with insecurity. You had heard from your times at sea, with Jack, Will, and Elizabeth… That the man in question had been engaged or betrothed to Elizabeth for some time. When you had first heard of it, you felt faint. That was when you realized you were still in love with your old best friend. 

You wondered if James loved Elizabeth the way you loved him. If he truly cared for her as Will cared truly for her. You felt foolish for hoping he could possibly return your hidden feelings. You felt foolish for wanting the attention of the man, the man you hadn't seen in years.

Swallowing hard and gaining your courage, you pushed off the wall and walked over to him. Leaning against the wooden railing of the Pearl, you stared at James as he stared down at the water below. Seemingly too drunk to realize you were right there.

You bit your lip briefly, not really knowing what to say, "James."

The man snapped his gaze up to you, his eyes widening, his eyes looking over your figure before they narrowed slightly. "You're a pirate?" He asked, spatting in hatred at the word.

You tilted your head to the side, "No hello? It's been years, James."

He scoffed, looking back at the water, "It has been years. Years since you got up and left with no goodbye or explanation." 

You pursed your lips, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. "I didn't just get up and leave, James. I was captured by Barbossa and his men." 

He huffed, "How are you alive then? If you cared about our friendship at all, you would've come back." He lifted the rum in his hand to his lips, tilting his head back to take a large sip.

You sputtered out a breathy sigh, you knew he was drunk but this was ridiculous, "I was raised by them to become a pirate. Barbossa spared my life. So I am grateful. And you know how much I care about you and our friendship, if I could've I would've come back." You practically scolded him, as he turned to stare hard at you.

"Then why didn't you?" He asked and you opened your mouth, but closed it again, and that was all James had to see. "That's what I thought." He chugged more rum.

Growling softly, you glared at him as you grabbed the rum bottle from him abruptly, before tossing it over the side of the ship. James stared as the bottle splashed into the water, before sinking.

"Well, that's just a waste." He muttered, before swaying slightly again, almost losing his footing as the ship moved.

"Look at you," You continue to scold, "Drunk and washed out. What happened to the young boy who I used to know? What happened to you that made you so bitter hearted?"

James turned to look back at you, "You. You left and my life went on. Do you know how worried I was? I asked my father where you had gone and he never gave me an answer, telling me that you were a distraction from my education." He ranted angrily. “Good riddance.” He scoffed.

You threw your hands in the air slightly, "I couldn't help that I got captured! I was eleven, James!" He grunted and turned back to the water once more, making you cross your arms, "You're drunk. It's pointless speaking with you when you're like this. If you ever cared about our friendship at all, come find me when you're sober." 

Night fell upon the horizon, stars sprinkled the dark sky as the bright moon shines down upon you. You couldn't sleep. Not even a wink. Every time you tried to, you'd close your eyes and see James. Remembering your time with him. Running through gardens, sword fighting with sticks, watching the stars before your father called you back inside. You wished you could remember more of your childhood, but after so many years… It was becoming a blur of greens and blues. 

You almost felt guilty. You wished that you were able to see James grow up… And grow up along-side him. You wished you could've seen when he became Commodore, knowing that was a proud moment in his book. You could almost see it. Two rows of men with their swords pointed to the sky, creating a hall for him to walk through. Even though you hated the British Crown, you were proud of him nonetheless.

The moon seemed to smile down at you, but you couldn't smile back. Your hands gripped the ebony wood railing tightly as you stared at the dark waters below. Your mind ran with "what ifs" and what could've been. 

The stars, they reminded you so much of James. Possibly from all the times you stargazed together in your mother's garden, but you could almost remember, or visualize, how the stars reflected in his stormy eyes. It was foolish to think what you felt back then was love… But, you couldn't help but think it was. 

Hearing the soft creaks of the floorboards, you turned your head to find James. He stood there, almost awkwardly, as he looked anywhere but at you. It was silent, only the sound of the soft sea crashing against the ship made any noise. 

"I am sorry, Y/N." He finally spoke up, voice unsteady. You listened quietly, patiently. "What I had said to you was out of line."

You hummed, nodding. "I wish our reunion didn't start off as such." You pursed your lips as you stared up at the moon. "It wasn't what I had in mind."

"What did you have in mind?" James asked, coming to stand beside you, mimicking your stance with his hands on the railing.

"I don't know." You sighed tiredly. "I don't know what to think anymore."

It was silent once more as the two of you stared at the moon… Like you used to. There was an odd tension in the air between you too, but nonetheless it was peaceful. Almost relieving even. To know he was alive and by your side once more.

James worried on his bottom lip, side glancing at you briefly before looking back at the moon. He had missed you, there was no doubt about that, but he wished things were different. Looking over at you again, he watched as the moon's soft rays cast sweet shadows over your face, almost making your skin sparkle in its light. You were radiant; stunning. 

In his time without you, he thought of you often. He always wondered what happened to you. And he grieved for a long time before he got swept into his duties. He had always wondered, if you were alive, what you would look like. And his image of you didn't do you justice. You were an angel, a Goddess among me. If he had the chance, and you hadn't been captured, he would've married you.

He took notice of how your nose sloped, and your hair blew slightly in the soft breeze. You have changed since he lost you all those years ago. You weren't wearing those dresses -- wearing flowy trousers, a billowy blouse with puffy sleeves, and a thick corset. If anything, you screamed pirate. Something he was told to hate, track down, and capture… If not kill.

He felt terrible for what he had said to you, he felt terrible for his drunk ramblings. He was broken, hardly the man you once knew as a child. He wasn't as care-free anymore. Nor was he as caring. Growing up had changed him. Losing his rank had changed him. Becoming a pirate changed him.

Licking his lips, he opened his mouth to speak, "Remember when we used to dance, you used to stand on my feet?" He asked, voice thick and deep as he looked back at the moon.

"Yes…" You answered softly, smiling lightly at the thought. "I remember quite well."

"You had two left feet, if I remember correctly. Never knew how to dance properly." James spoke with a hint of a grin, as you giggled lightly; music to his ears. Out of everything, your laugh never changed.

"I still don't, well not really anyway. Ballroom dancing isn't really my forte." You laughed out breathily. 

James turned to you to raise an eyebrow, "You never learned?" He asked and you shook your head, turning to look at him in return.

"No time to really learn when you're out at sea." You shrugged, and James nodded slowly, pondering for a moment before he offered his hand to you. You looked at his hand, to his eyes and back. "James?"

"Dance with me. You said you never have time, why not now?" He asked, giving you a small smile as you stared at him in surprise. At your silence, he began to worry, "Just like old times?" He added, and you bit your lip, hesitantly placing your soft hand in his calloused one.

Pulling you closer to him, James placed his hand on your waist, his other holding your hand in the air beside you both. Your hand slipped over his tattered old uniform, resting on his shoulder. You looked into his eyes, seeing that he was already staring at you.

"James…" You began but he interrupted.

"Just follow my lead." He began, before giving you a small smirk, "Just don't step on my toes."

You bit your lip as you nodded your head slightly, "I'll try not to. But no promises." 

As James began to move, you stared down at your boots and his, trying to make sure not to mess up or step on his toes. Feeling his hand leave your waist, James placed his finger underneath your chin, raising your head to look at him. "Keep your eyes on me. Trust the beat."

You gulped lightly, "There is no beat. Nor any music." 

"Humor me, darling." You flushed at his endearment, as he placed his hand back on your waist. "Just look at me, and listen to the beat."

You listened, staring into his stormy eyes as you listened to the soft thumps of your boots against the wood. 

Daa da da. Daa da da. Daa da da.

You were entirely swept up in the dance, completely forgetting where you were, the world around you slipping away until it was only you and James. You had dreamed about this once. A long time ago. Dancing with the man before you, though in your head he was clean shaven and his hair and attire were not a mess. But, you didn't mind. This… This right here was far better than any dream you could possibly have.

James couldn't help but stare, letting his eyes rake over your features as you danced with him under the moonlight. He noticed the soft freckles that dotted your nose, and the way your lashes danced upon the apples of your cheeks. The nervousness you had felt and he had seen seemed to wash away, as you let yourself relax and smile. Breathtaking. He thought. Incredibly so.

You both slowed to a stop, your breathing only being slightly altered as you stared into his eyes. You felt so overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with the happiness and love you felt for James. 

"I haven't danced… I haven't danced since we were children." You confessed, voice only slightly above a whisper. 

"No one to dance with?" He asked, and you softly shook your head.

"No," You began, closing your eyes. "No… I could've had plenty of dance suitors." You felt your hand tighten in his as your hand on his shoulder fiddled with the color of his old uniform. "Only none of them were you."

James stood still, shocked by your statement; feeling his face and neck flush. You both stayed frozen in the dance stance, you feeling as embarrassed as you thought was possible, and James feeling as surprised and bewildered as he ever had been. 

"And I know I can't possibly have your heart." You muttered, shaking your head as you looked down. "I had seen the way you looked at Elizabeth and I had heard of your prior engagement."

James let out a sigh, dropping your hand which sent your heart to your stomach briefly before both of his hands cupped your cheeks, his calloused thumbs brushing across your cheeks. He stared down at you, his gaze piercing as he tried to think of what to say. And you stared back, desperately wanting something… Some sort of explanation.

"It is true. I was priorly engaged to Elizabeth. But that is in the past now. Our engagement was arranged by her father." He licked his lip, "And yes, I did have affection towards her." Your heart was barely afloat. "But she was never you." He confessed, surprising you this time as you stared up at him with wide eyes. "She never snuck off with me to a garden after tea time, she never stargazed with me past curfew, and she never had my heart. You stole it the moment I meant you.."

You sucked in a breath, heart beating rapidly in your chest. "What?" You breathed. He was silent for a short while before he smiled softly at you as he lowered his hands from your face. His fingers trailed down to your jawline, the tips of his thumbs brushing your bottom lip.

"I love you." He said, bringing his forehead close to yours. "I'm sorry for the pain and confusion I've caused you."

Your eyes widened, tears pooling at the corners. He loves me? He loves me?! You thought, blinking hard as you tried to fight back your feelings, but you were unsuccessful. "You love me..?" You whispered, as he closed his eyes and leaned forward, his warm lips meeting yours.

As you kissed back, it was like nothing you'd ever experienced. It was like fire. Like fireworks. Like the wind blowing through the trees as they danced with each other, their leaves rustling in the night sky as they twirled around each other and disappeared among the stars. He wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, pulling you closer to him as you moved your free hand up to stroke his bread-covered cheek. You were dizzy. You were intoxicated.

The kiss broke and you pulled apart, gasping slightly for air as you continued to stare into his blue eyes. He smiled at you, as your hand wandered his cheeks, stroking his beard gently; it tickled against your palm. His arms tightened around you and you lost yourself in the blissful euphoria of the moment. There was no more pain or sorrow between you. Just joy and adoration.

"I love you, adore you, darling," James whispered, leaning forwards to press his forehead against yours again, closing his eyes as he sighed happily. "More than words can express."

A tear fell from your eye as you buried your face into his chest. His arms wrapped securely around you as he rocked you gently, his hand stroking your back soothingly. "I love you too." You whispered quietly as you closed your eyes.

The warmth radiating off of his body brought you comfort and peace. You wanted to stay there forever; with him, in his arms. He rested his head on top of yours, listening to your soft breathing as he pulled you tighter to him, his nose pressing against your head, as you smiled to yourself. You would never let go. Never again.

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