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imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky · 6 hours

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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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imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky · 6 hours

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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.

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imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky · 6 hours

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Comfort | J.N.

Summary: After suffering an injury, the old Commodore tends to your wound.

Mentions of blood and injury.

James Norrington Masterlist

You staggered across the wooden deck, clutching your blood-soaked forearm. The sword fight was quick, but your now-deceased foe made sure to leave the world with one last act. With the swing of the sword, he sliced your arm, leaving a nasty cut. At least you managed to come away with a couple pieces of silver.

You stared out into the ocean to calm you. A child of an officer in the British Royal Navy, the ocean was your true calling. The moonlight shined on the water. The waves crashing against the boat and snores from your fellow crew mates drowned the sound of boots coming towards you.

"Rough day looting, pirate?" James asked and leaned his back against the ship railing. You gulped back a snarky remark. He still had a hatred towards pirates. The man was on a pirate ship but refused to partake in pirate activities.

"It was fine, Norrington," you answered cooly and moved your arm from his stern gaze. The last person you wanted to see your injury was him. James would have gone above and beyond to make you worse than you already felt.

"No witty response?" He asked with a raised eyebrow and a grin. He shifted, so he was leaning against the railing and facing you. You shifted your injured arm around your back. He could see the grimace of pain on your face from the moonlight. "What's wrong, pirate?"

"Nothing," you answered a little too quickly. His eyes darted to the blood on the railing and then the arm behind your back. You took a few steps away, knowing he connected the dots.

He grabbed your upper arm. You hissed in pain as your arm was presented to him. He rolled the sleeve up your arm. The blood oozed on his hand. James squinted at your wound , and his eyes shot to yours. You could have fooled yourself into thinking he actually looked concerned. Doubtful.

"Why didn't you see Doc?" He asked. You didn't respond. No surprise to him. The old Commodore sighed and let go of your arm. "Follow me. I'll take care of it,"

You followed him below deck like a child in trouble. Your feet scurried quickly to keep up with him. You hung your head, feeling embarrassed that James had to be the one to help you. He sat on a wooden stool at a table. You sat down across from him.

"This is going to sting," he warned you shortly before pouring alcohol on the wound. You closed your eyes tightly and clenched your teeth. The pain was temporary and you didn't want to give him more reason to mock you. Being a female pirate had already afforded you enough mockery from others.

"Wasn't so bad," you tried to joke. You could have sworn you saw a smile on his face briefly. He started to pat your arm with a cloth. His hands were surprisingly soft. Work on a pirate ship must have not caught up to his hands yet.

With another piece of cloth, he wrapped your wound. You felt yourself melt with his touch. He finished wrapping the bandage around your arm a little too quickly for your liking. His hands caressed just below the injured part of your arm and your hand.

"All better," he spoke smugly yet his fingers brushed against yours. You pulled your arm back towards you. Your cheeks felt hot.

"Thank you, James,"

"Anytime," he stopped. You could see he was struggling with what to call you. So many times, he simply called you pirate. "Y/N,"

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imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky · 7 hours

Photo

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imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky · 7 hours

Text

POTC 1

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imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky · 7 hours

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I have a headcanon request: James Norrington x Pirate!Reader.

How would he feel about them being a pirate? How would the relationship pan out? In an alternative world where he lives, would he still be part of the navy or would he completely side with the pirates? What would the reader think of him being a part of the Navy? Would they consider giving up their pirate life to be with him?

Thank you :)

Buckle up - this can of brainworms just exploded.

I think living with pirates and experiencing their life and lifestyle shed a new light for James. He'd be more mindful of what causes people to turn to piracy and if given oppurtunity - tries to help.

After all, in both DMC and AWE he did commit piracy in order to become an Admiral at the hands of Beckett.

If the only thing in the AU that changed was his death, I think James wouldn't even entertain the idea of coming back to the Royal Navy - not after all of Becketts dirty tricks would've been exposed.

If it comes to Pirate!reader and James' relationship.....

I want them to meet between The Curse and DMC.

You would probably meet on Tortuga or something life that.

Maybe even when Jack gets him onto the Pearl and then maybe just dumps him with you when you meet at some rundown port in the middle of nowhere.

That would be delicious.

Taking you are the captain, an extra pair of hands is always welcome. Jack probably conveniently did not mention, that the blackout drunk sailor he was bestowing upon you was in fact The James Norrington. No no. You have to find out yourself.

'What's you name son?'

When he finally wakes gets woken up with a cold seawater bucket to the face courtsy of first officer you do what any sane captain would do -

'Dont fuckin- - call me son.'

'Oof he has bite to his bark gentlemen......'

After a good chow and a hissy fit you get to actually talk to him.

What kinda ticks him off is your kindness towards him - taking things slow with the hangover that you ensured wouldn't get worse, not coldly demanding him to do everything he should be doing.

You get a minute to talk to each other in private and he just presents himself as James, scared you'll do something terrible, torture him for what he's done, even kill him.

He knows thinks he deserves it.

'Just James huh? Alright "Just James", what drove you to the sea?'

Gets surprised when you don’t press further on his identity. He works on your ship quite well actually - he's well versed in many things. A week later you try prying more information from him.

'A stupid expectation and even stupider decisions.'

'Damn, you sailors always come up with the same story huh.

He can feel the cold sweat at your words.

Even if he was ex- Navy - you started to harbour a crush on the guy. He's really charming when he wants to be and can spot a British ship from miles away. His knowledge of the sea is impressive. Many-a-time had he pulled you out of hot shit you were about to get yourelf in.

You knew. Of course you knew. You recognised him the moment he got on your ship. Stood with his back too straight for being so drunk. Almost saluted when first officer "woke him up". Carried himself with an aura of an old, tired soldier.

In a drunken moment at port he tells you his full name and makes peace that he's staying back. He then wakes up on the ship and almost cries.

And he has those eyes..... that seafoam you would willingly drown yourself in. And a great ass? The package is a perfect fit for you.

He then realises that your kindness for him may have awakened a feeling he long forsaken - love.

*two dense motherfuckers in a room*

*the crew collectively suffers when looking at you two lovesick fools who believe the other is too good to be with them.*

As time goes on, you continue to floor James with both your wit and bravery. You do not charge into battle unprepared or without good reason.

Over the months spent together your realtionship with James improves to the point he reveals a little of his life in Port Royal and how he sometimes wishes he could go back there. It breaks your heart but you bite your tounge. After all - he smiled so sweetly when he told you he found a new home on your ship, with the crew, with you.

And then DMC happens.

James deals with Beckett that with your help he will get Jacks compass. The plan is set to save you and your crew. God, he would throw himself off a cliff if he didn't donanything in his power to save your life - he would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat if it meant you were free from the East Indian Company.

'You. MY CREW GAVE YOU A HOME ON OUR SHIP ! THEY GAVE YOU A CHANCE TO BE FREE ! THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY THEM ?!'

Oh the anguish I feel when your ship gets captured by Beckett.

You are brought to the Lords' office and he offers you a deal. Your heart breaks when you see James there. You fall to your knees. He fucking feels the floor shake from the force of your fall. You pull on the chains, making two guards holding you almost stumble to keep you in place.

Hot tears are spilling from your eyes. Every one that falls twists a knife in his heart.

'Get them to agree or neither you, or them are leaving this port alive.'

You of course deny the deal but Beckett is no dumb. He saw how hard James tried to act neutral. When the guards drag you away somewhere Beckett gives James a pointed look.

On the way out he recieves a key. James knew exactly where to use it. He has never run as fast as he did to your cell.

Seeing you in those chains - nay - in such histeric tears makes him want to carve his heart out. The damp, smelly dungeon doesn't really help with making you look less miserable.

James grips the metal bars so hard his knuckles turn white.

'Please. Please let me explain.'

'There's nothing to explain. Admiral.'

The distant look you give him makes his blood run cold.

He forces the doors open fuck the key right? , bursts in and gathers you in his arms, despite your protests. You cry, wail, curse him. And he lets you.

Now he really desereved it.

All he can do is soothe you.

You give up on trying to pry him away from you. He just won't let go. He holds you like your're going to fall apart at any moment and frankly, your'e close to doing so. The feelings you so meticulously hid away surge to the surface and you can't help but relax into the warmth of his arms.

'I'm so, so sorry that it's come to this.'

'You're not sorry. You got your life back. I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew my happily ever after wouldn't come. Especially not with you.'

You feel James freeze.

'Me?'

'Yeah, I never even intended to tell you but now that I'll probably hang by tommorow-'

'Your happy ever after - what does that mean?'

He moves so fast you barely register when he looked into your eyes for the truth and when he buried his face in your neck. You sit and listen to his heathing breaths, the thumping of his heart and wonder - is it stress or- Owwwww fucking hell out with it already - you think.

After a little you whisper :

'It means i love you James. And I hoped life wouldn't be so cruel to those who long for freedom.'

You feel something wetting your shirt. A full body sob jostles you.

It's James' turn to weep.

'You big baby, don't cry. We'll be alright.'

Leaving on a cliffhanger >>>>>>

I hope it's readable - I've last written fiction like 5 yrs ago.

9.4.24 I wrote it fast so there's probably some spelling issues, I'll look later k mbyeeeeeee

10.4.24 K, I've looked this through, added a few thingies

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