[SUMMARY: You struggle with Joel being so distant and break up with him, he does everything he can to get you back.]
Angst
Joel had always been difficult to reach, he wasn’t cruel to you, never mistreated you..but he was always distant. Sometimes it felt like standing outside a house with all the lights on and knowing someone was inside, but every door remained locked. You tried to be understanding to it, his ways, his habits, but sometimes it became harder than others to just let things be.
He’d brush his fingers against yours while walking through town. He’d quietly hand you the better portion of food without saying a word, he’d stand between you and danger before you even noticed it existed. Joel showed he cared in his own ways, you always noticed this. The problem was that caring was where he stopped, communication was always limited. The closer you got, the further he seemed to be. When he didn’t look fine, he’d insist he was, that was when he’d shut down the most.
Every time you needed reassurance, he’d look at you like you were asking him to translate a language he’d never learned. Yet, you kept trying, kept yourself hopeful that eventually something would change. You knew what he’d gone through and that was only because Tommy told you.
“Joel, talk to me.”
“Nothin’ to talk about.”
“Yes there is..”
“No.”
It happened so often it became routine. You reaching and reaching, him withdrawing. He disappeared further and before you knew it, months turned into years of the same cycle. You somehow convinced yourself to accept the scraps, a hand on your lower back, a kiss before he left.
The occasional “You alright?” muttered while cleaning a rifle. But the words you desperately needed never came.
No “I need you” or “I love you.”
Not even “I’m scared you’ll leave.”
You started telling yourself you didn’t need those things although your heart yearned for it. You convinced yourself that maybe this was simply who Joel was. Maybe loving him meant accepting less.
Until one night you simply couldn’t take it any longer..
You had a terrible day..enough small things piling together until your chest felt too heavy. You found Joel on the porch looking out into the sunset.
“Can I sit with you?” He nodded.
You sat beside him as he remained silent. The silence felt like forever until eventually you whispered-
“I don’t think you know me.”
Joel frowned.
“What?”
“I don’t think you want to.”
His jaw tightened.
“Here we go.” The words hit harder than if he’d yelled.
Here we go.
Like your pain was an inconvenience, as if your heart was a chore. You stared at him lost in thought.
“I’ve spent years trying to let you in.”
“You know me.” He uttered low.
“No.”
Your voice cracked.
“I know what you let me know.”
Joel looked away immediately and that told you everything.
You laughed softly..the kind of laugh that comes right before crying.
“I don’t know what scares you more, Joel. Losing me or needing me.” His face tense, he wouldn’t dare look at you.
“You done?” You froze then slowly nodded.
“Mhm.”
That was the first time you stopped trying..Joel didn’t notice. Not at first.
Avoidant people rarely notice when someone starts pulling away because they’re used to the distance themselves. You stopped asking questions, stopped seeking comfort. You even stopped waiting up for him.
Joel just thought things had finally settled down.No more difficult conversations or emotional confrontations. For a while he actually felt relieved.
Then he noticed you didn’t smile at him anymore.Not a real smile at least..the one that used to light up your entire face. A few weeks later he realized you hadn’t touched him first in over a month.
A month after that he woke up and discovered he couldn’t remember the last time you’d said “I love you.”Something cold settled in his chest, fear..
He ignored it.
Until the night he came home and found a packed bag sitting beside the door.
Joel stared at it, then at you.
“What is that?”
You folded a shirt, not answering him.
His pulse began accelerating.
“What is that?” Finally you looked up and the exhaustion in your eyes nearly stopped his heart.
“I’m leaving.” Joel’s heart sunk.
“What?” He walked towards you.
“I’m leaving, Joel.”
“No.” He responded instantly like a reflex.
“I can’t do this anymore.” Exhaustion in your voice.
“The hell are you talkin’ about? You been fine” he took a step closer, confused, defensive.
You smiled sadly.
“I’ve been fine becuase I haven’t been talking to you. That’s what you consider fine?” You shook your head as if that was all the confirmation you needed.
The realization hit him all at once, you weren’t fine. You had just given up..
“So that’s it huh?” He spoke louder, you could hear the anger in his voice. He was pissed but not at you, at himself.
Every conversation he’d dismissed, every time he’d watched you cry and convinced himself giving you space was enough. Every damn excuse he made.
You wouldn’t respond, swallowing your tears as he watched you, shoulders tense.
“And where the hell you gonna go at this time?”
“Maria said I could stay with her until they find somewhere else for me-“
“My brother?” He cut you off defensively, still you wouldn’t look at him.
“Tommy knew about this?”
“Joel, I just told her about an hour ago.” You spoke softly as you zipped up the bag. A wave of emotions coming over him, anger turned into guilt. Guilt that he had pushed you away…that he made you feel unloved. It couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
You turned placing your bag over your shoulder and that’s when it set in over him…panic. Joel’s expression changed.
“Wait a minute, baby-“ he rushed towards you, his hand brushing over your waist.
“Let’s talk about this, you don’t need to go.” A knot in your throat forming, a look of desperation in his eyes you hadn’t ever seen.
“It’s too late to talk-“
“You don’t mean that, come on, put your bag down. Well- we’ll fix this, whatever you need me to do” He took your hand in his as you slowly shook your head.
“I can’t-“
“The hell do you want me to do dammit?!” He suddenly yelled, anger taking over him, his tone harsher than he meant it to be. Never had he spoken like this to you before.
“The hell you want me to say huh?! What is it?! What do you need from me?!”
“I needed you!” You finally yelled back with tears. You pulled your hand away, Joel stood in shock. Just like that he watched you walk out of his life without turning back..
His chest felt tight, he stumbled slowly towards the wall and placed his back against it. He knew this feeling all too well. The walls feeling like they were caving in, he loosened a button at the top of his shirt as he closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. His fear becoming a reality.
~~
The first week after you left was the quietest Joel had ever known..your absence followed him everywhere. He hated it. The worst part was at night, he’d reach for you half asleep only to feel the cold sheets beside him.
I needed you.
Joel could hear your voice over and over again saying this, the pain in your voice haunted him.
He sat on his porch long after sunset, staring at the house a few doors down where Tommy and Maria had taken you in. He could see the light from the kitchen window. He could imagine you inside, laughing, safe..without him.
The thought made his chest ache, he looked away trying to shake the image out of his head.
~~
The next morning, Tommy found Joel repairing a fence that didn’t need repairing.
“You fixed that last week.”
Joel hammered another nail.
“It’s loose.”
“It ain’t loose.”
Joel eyes narrowed on him, Tommy sighed.
“Still thinkin’ about her?”
Joel stopped moving.
As if there had been a moment when he wasn’t. He stared silently at the screw.
“I screwed up.”
Tommy nodded.
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t mean to, Tommy. I swear I didn’t” he looked up at his brother who gave him a silent nod.
“She..she ok?”
“She’s not talkin’ much but she’s fine” Tommy responded, Joel looked down pressing his lips together.
“Come on, let’s have a drink, you look like you need one.” He proceeded to turn towards his door.
“I can’t-“
“And why not?”
“She’s-she’s in there ain’t she?”
“She went to check on the horses with Maria, they won’t be back for a bit. Besides I’ll be damned if I can’t have a drink with my own brother in my house” Tommy chuckled as he led the way in.
As soon as Joel walked in he could see your shoes by the door, your favorite indoor slip ons he had found for you brand new a while back. He kept his head down following his brother to the kitchen, hadn’t even noticed his brother was talking till he slammed a cup on the counter before him.
“You there, Joel?” He quickly looked up.
“Huh, yeah. I’m ready”
Tommy laughed as he grabbed the bottle and poured them both a drink. He could see how hurt his brother was, how distracted he was.
“Shit, brother if you can’t let me in, at least let her in. You got yourself a good woman. Not much that would put up with your shit” he smiled before taking a sip. He tried to break a smile out of his brother but it was harder than he thought.
Then they both heard the door open.
Both men turned toward the door to see you and Maria walking in, a smile on your face as you spoke about how being around the horses felt relaxing. How you enjoyed taking care of them. So lost in the conversation you hadn’t noticed Tommy was sitting at the table with someone else across from him, until you looked up. You stopped right in your tracks, your smile instantly disappearing. Joel stood up awkwardly clearing his throat, he knew he wasn’t wanted there. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. He could see Maria giving Tommy a look, a hand on her hip piercing him with her eyes.
“Hey-“ Maria’s eyes softened as she turned to you.
“Let me show you what I was working on earlier” she took your hand and pulled you up the stairs. Joel’s eyes didn’t move from where you had stood, the hurt of the realization that you didn’t even want to look at him. He threw his head back chugging back the last of the alcohol in his cup and slammed the glass down. Without saying a word he walked out.
~~
Maria could see how distracted you were, seeing Joel completely threw you off.
“Sorry about that, I’ll have a talk with Tommy. He should’ve known-“
“No, it’s fine. They’re brothers Maria…don’t say anything. I’m not mad I’m just…I wasn’t expecting to see him.” You stared off into space thinking about how tired he looked. Maybe he was having trouble sleeping again.
Maybe he wasn’t eating right again.
You shook off those thoughts the best you could and sighed.
~~
Joel didn’t step near Tommy’s house for a couple weeks, giving you space but still he could see you from afar when you’d step out.
A few days later Joel showed up at Tommy’s house carrying a basket.
Maria opened the door then blinked with slight confusion.
“Is that bread?”
Joel awkwardly held it up.
You’d once mentioned loving fresh bread. So Joel had spent three miserable hours trying to learn. The loaf looked lopsided, burned on one side.
Maria stared, then couldn’t help but laugh.
Joel looked offended.
“It ain’t funny.”
“It absolutely is.”
She laughed harder.
Joel shoved the basket toward her.
“Just give it to her.”
Maria folded her arms.
“No.”
Joel frowned.
“What do you mean no?”
“You can’t buy your way out of this.”
“It ain’t buying.”
“It kind of is.”
Joel sighed heavily.
“Maria, please. I’m tryin’”
Maria sighed, she knew Joel long enough to see when he had regret. To see when something was hurting him to his core.
Maria continued. “Joel…she spent months feeling lonely while standing right next to you.”
Joel looked down, he knew she was right.
“Didn’t mean to…to push her away. Didn’t mean to hurt her” the more he thought about the pain he caused, the angrier he became with himself.
“Give her time.”
“How much time?”His voice came out rough as he looked up.
“As much as she needs.”
Joel hated that answer but he nodded anyway.
~~
He tried. God, he tried. For almost three weeks he didn’t knock on your door. Didn’t force conversations, instead he began to quietly change his habits.
The way you always wished he would..
He started showing up to community dinners.
Actually talking to people. He helped Eugene’s widow repair her roof, fixed playground equipment for the children. He thought of you as he did everything. He thought about how he shut everyone out..including you.
Especially you.
~~
One afternoon you were helping Maria hang laundry when Ellie appeared.
“You should go talk to him.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Not you too.”
Ellie shrugged. “I’m serious.”
“I’m not ready.”
“Okay.” You paused, that was suspiciously easy.
“Okay?”
Ellie nodded.
“Yeah.”
Then she smirked.
“But you should know he’s becoming annoying.”
You sighed.
“What?”
“Guy’s like a sad country song.”
You laughed despite yourself. Ellie pointed toward Joel’s house. “He stares at your window.”
“Oh my God.”
“Not in a creepy way.”
“That doesn’t help.”
Ellie snorted.
“He’s pathetic.”
Your smile faded slightly. Because a small part of you wondered if Joel really was hurting as much as everyone claimed.
~~
It had been a month.
A month since you told Joel you couldn’t keep loving someone who acted like he could take you or leave you. A month since you packed a small bag and moved into Tommy and Maria’s spare room. A month without feeling the warmth of his body beside yours in bed.
You’d cried enough that you simply felt numb.
The front door opened, Tommy stepped inside first as you chopped up potatoes on the counter.
“Need a hand with the rest?” he called over his shoulder.
A familiar voice answered.
“Already got it.”
Your knife stopped against the potato.
Joel. Your stomach turned…but not exactly in a dreadful way.
He walked in carrying two heavy sacks of flour over one shoulder and a crate of canned goods in his arms. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, a light sheen of sweat on his skin. He set everything down without a word, nodding politely to Maria.
“Found coffee beans too,” he said.
Maria smiled knowingly. “You’re a lifesaver.”
Joel shrugged.
“Figured I’d save Tommy another trip.”
Tommy snorted.
“You hate making trips into town.”
Joel scratched the back of his neck.
“Guess I don’t mind so much lately.”
You knew exactly who that comment was for.
You refused to look up.
~~
For the next hour he stayed busy. He helped out Tommy with a few things that needed fixing around the house. Eventually it was just you and Joel, you on one side of the room cutting vegetables and him on the other, fixing God knows what.
He never once asked for attention, he never looked to see if you were watching. Which somehow made it worse.
Because you were…every single second.
So much so as you began to chop up some carrots you weren’t paying attention and your hand slipped. You gasped loudly as the sharpness of the knife came into contact with your skin. Joel instantly looked up to see you quickly looking for a rag to cover the wound. Without thinking he put down what he was working on and rushed towards you. He had already seen the blood dripping down your finger so he knew it must’ve been deep.
“You alright?” Without hesitation he grabbed your hands but you held the rag still against it as he attempted to pull your hands apart.
“No it’s bleeding-don’t-“
“Let me take a look” his eyes met yours and you suddenly didn’t know how to speak. You watched as he gently removed the rag, his brows furrowed noticing the deep cut. In that moment you wished Tommy and Maria would appear from wherever the hell they were.
“It’s fine, Joel”
“It ain’t fine, you got yourself pretty good. Sit down-“
“Joel-“
“Damn it baby, just sit down” your heart jumped. He caught himself as he called you baby but he didn’t take it back.
After grabbing what he could find around the house he pushed everything on the table aside and placed a bottle of whiskey down with a first aid kit. Instead of sitting across from you at the table, he pulled a chair up beside you and turned your chair to face him, pulling it toward him.
“Could’ve just told me to turn” you rolled your eyes.
“Figure I’d move quicker.” He responded as you looked over at the bottle of liquor.
“Not the whiskey” you sighed.
“Yes the whiskey.” He responded without looking at you.
An entire month since the two of you had spoken more than a passing hello. A month since everything fell apart. Yet somehow you still found yourself sitting in the chair beside him without another word.
He unscrewed the bottle as you swallowed anxiously.
“This’ll sting.”
“I remember.”
His eyes looked up to yours.
“So do I.”
He tipped your hand over the table, his fingers warm around your wrist.
“Ready?” You nodded and he poured.
The whiskey hit the cut like fire.
“Shit-“ You jerked forward with a sharp gasp, eyes squeezing shut.
Without thinkinf you grabbed onto something, or rather..someone.
Your free hand had wrapped tightly around Joel’s. Your fingers dug into his calloused skin hard enough that your knuckles turned white.
He didn’t flinch or let go, instead he leaned in closer and softly blew across the cut.
The cool air eased the burning just enough that you slowly opened your eyes.
Joel was still there. Close enough that you could see every little line around his eyes, every fleck of gray in his beard. His knees against yours, you didn’t want to pull away.
His thumb absentmindedly rubbed small circles against the side of your wrist while he continued inspecting the cut.
“Little deeper than I thought.” He spoke low.
“But you’ll keep the hand.” A tiny laugh escaped you. It surprised both of you, he couldn’t help but smirk.
“There she is.” Then there was silence, your smile faded.
Joel finally looked down, then over and landed his eyes on your intertwined hands. Only then did you realize you were still holding his.
Your fingers hadn’t loosened once.
“Oh…”
You started to pull away. Joel’s hand instinctively tightened just enough to stop you.
You didn’t move.
His eyes lifted back to yours.
“You okay?”
There was so much hidden inside those two words. Not just about a stupid cut but about everything that’s happened.
You simply nodded.
“…Yeah.”
He studied you for another second like he wanted to ask a hundred more questions. Instead, he let out a deep breath.
“Alright.”
He didn’t want to pull away but he did so slowly to finish cleaning up your cut. Very carefully, he cleaned the last of the blood away. His fingers were gentle as he spread antibiotic ointment over the cut.
“You’ll wanna keep this dry today.” You nodded again.
He wrapped the gauze around your palm before securing it with tape.
“There.” He turned your hand over once to check his work.
“Should heal fine.”
You looked down at the neat bandage.
“..Thank you.”
Joel’s eyes lingered on your face.
“You don’t gotta thank me.”
“I know.” For a moment neither of you moved.
Then the back door opened.
“There you two are-“
Tommy stopped mid sentence.
Maria looked between the two of you sitting close together. Joel immediately leaned back, still holding your hand.
You quickly pulled your hand into your lap and looked away.
Maria frowned.
“What the hell happened?”
You stood a little too fast, nearly knocking the chair over.
“I-“
You held up your bandaged hand.
“I cut myself chopping carrots.”
Tommy’s eyes widened.
“Bad?”
“No.” You forced a small smile.
“I’m fine.”
Maria looked at Joel, then back at you.
Joel had already capped the whiskey bottle and closed the first aid kit, expression carefully unreadable.
“It’ll be alright,” he said simply.
“Really…im fine.”
“I think I’m just gonna…go lie down for a bit.”
Without waiting for anyone to answer, you slipped past Maria and Tommy, keeping your head down as you hurried toward the guest room. The bedroom door clicked shut behind you. Only then did you lean back against it, closing your eyes. Your hand still tingled beneath the bandage.
But what lingered far more vividly was the memory of Joel’s rough hand in yours…
And how, for just a few quiet moments, neither of you had wanted to let go.
You overheard Maria telling Joel to stay for dinner, a part of you not sure how to feel about it.
You didn’t hear Joel say much, his mind still lost in the moment of being so damn close to you.
Well feeling so close, yet so far.
~~
Everyone settled around the table. Ellie was away helping Dina with patrol schedules keeping herself busy. Conversation flowed around you. Tommy talked about a broken fence, Maria laughed about someone’s escaped chickens.
Joel mostly listened. Once in a while he’d look your way, not enough to make it obvious but still enough that you caught him every time.
~~
Halfway through dinner your fork slipped from your hand, clattering onto the floor.
Before you could bend, Joel was already kneeling.He picked it up then reached for another clean fork from the drawer.
“There.”
His voice was quiet, your fingers brushed when you took it. Neither of you pulled away immediately.
“Thanks.”
He nodded once.
“You’re welcome.”
Later that evening Tommy disappeared outside with Maria to check on the horses.
Leaving the two of you alone on the porch.
Neither of them was subtle.You sat on the swing, staring out toward the fading sunset.
Joel leaned against the porch railing, hands shoved into his pockets.
“Your hand ok?” He asked as if it hadn’t just happened a couple hours ago. He knew you were fine, but the silence killed him.
“Mhm, it’s fine,” you spoke softly as you looked down at your hand not noticing the way he looked over his shoulder back to you.
“I ain’t here to make things hard.”
“I know.”
“I told myself I’d leave you alone.”
“So why are you here?” You looked up at him. A slight smirk appeared on his lips.
“I lasted twenty eight days.”
“You counted?”
“Every one.” He looked down at the porch boards.
“I kept thinkin’ you’d be happier.”
“Well, I wasn’t.”
“I wasn’t either.” He spoke gently, he rubbed the back of his neck.
“I spent a lotta years thinkin’ if I kept people far enough away…couldn’t lose ’em.”
You stayed quiet.
“I realized all that did was make me lose ’em anyway.” You watched him carefully.
A month ago he would’ve shut down, changed the subject, hell not even have begun this conversation.
Now he stood there, uncomfortable as hell, saying the things he’d spent years refusing to admit.
His eyes finally met yours.
“Baby, I miss you. Every. Damn. Day.” His voice cracked.
“I’d wake up thinkin’ I’d hear you movin’ around the house. Hell, I still catch myself makin’ enough coffee for two.”
You looked down your lap, his stare too intense.
He continued carefully.
“I know it’s only been a month but I’ve done a lot of thinkin’ and I know what you need me to be and I’m sorry I failed you for so damn long.” His eyes teared up but you still couldn’t look up at him. Instead you fiddled with your fingers on your lap, your heart racing. And that’s when he slowly got down on his knee before you, his hands gently cradling yours.
“I can’t lose you, baby. You and Ellie are the only thing that keeps me goin’.” For some reason as happy as you were to hear his feelings, you almost also felt..angry. You pulled your hands away and shoved them into his chest but he held his balance.
“Why the hell did it take you so long to realize that?!” He began to shake his head.
“You don’t get it, baby I always realized it. I just…I just was too damn stupid to say it.” He noticed a tear falling from your eye and it pulled at his heart. He couldn’t take seeing you cry. He looked down at the floor and clenched his jaw, his heart pounding hard in his chest.
“Please come home, baby. I can’t…I ain’t sleepin’ without you. I need you with me,” you looked up, his eyes big and puppy like. You’d never seen him so broken. You parted your lips but couldn’t speak at first.
“I’m..I’m not ready,” you spoke barely a whisper. Your words breaking him. You stood up with him still on his knees before you and rushed back inside into your room, holding your tears in until you locked the door.
Joel held his tears in feeling the burning knot in his throat, he looked down at the ground disappointed in himself. He knew you had every right to feel how you did.
Just as Tommy and Maria walked back towards their home they saw Joel leave with a clear look of disappointment. Tommy sighed and shook his head.
When he walked inside he found you in the kitchen washing dishes, Maria gave Tommy a nod and left you two alone.
“Should’ve left the dishes so your hand can heal” Tommy stood at the doorway. You jumped up at the sound of his voice not having heard the front door open.
“It’s fine” you shrugged. After a moment of silence he continued.
“I saw Joel leave.”
You shut off the water and took a slow breath.
“Did you?” You answered low.
“I haven’t seen him this broken in a while,”
“If you’re trying to make me feel bad it’s not working-“
“Ain’t trynna make you feel bad. My brother can be a bit of an idiot but he’s an idiot who’s crazy for you.” You didn’t respond nor turn to face him either.
“He’s tryin’, sis”
You slowly faced him.
“Now after all this time. It took me to leave for him to show-“
“I know, I know. I told you, he’s an idiot.” You sighed.
“Give him one more chance, let him show you who he really is.”
~~
That night you sat in your room in the dark, contemplating to see Joel. Thinking of what to say, what to do. Eventually you pushed yourself out of the room, Tommy and Maria both asleep you quietly walked out the front door.
You could see Joel’s light still on, of course he was awake. Taking a deep breath walking towards his steps you whispered to yourself what you would say, so lost in thought you were taken by surprise when Joel appeared out the side of the house carrying a lantern. He himself surprised to see you stood speechless. You suddenly felt stupid.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have come” you proceeded to turn back but Joel quickly caught up.
“No” he caught your hand gently turning you back.
“Please, don’t go” he whispered. You stood silent for a moment, his eyes tracing your features.
“I thought about what you said” you whispered. “And I don’t know what to think, I don’t wanna feel what I felt for so long-“
“You won’t” he assured you stepping closer.
“I promise you I’ll give you every damn piece of me, whatever you need, baby I just can’t lose you again.” His eyes desperate, he meant every word he said. You didn’t respond at first, just quietly looked up at him before taking a deep breath.
“Can I stay the night?” You whispered as a look of relief took over him. He pulled you in closer, God he wanted to kiss you and you knew he did but you watched him stop himself.
“Kiss me you-“ Joel dropped the lantern and slammed your body against him taking your lips with his. You could feel the urgency he had for you, how much he missed your touch. You could feel how badly he never wanted to lose you again.
Request: @cltex84 "Here's my ask! John Dutton runs into a young woman at a hotel bar that looks familiar but he can't figure out why. They have a one night stand and it turns out the next day when she shows up to the ranch that she was a childhood friend of Jamies."
The Bozeman Bar looked exactly like it did all those years ago. The same tables, the same sticky floor, the only thing that had changed were the staff. As you entered the bar you made your way to the counter and took a seat on the worn leather stool.
Returning to Montana wasn't something you ever thought would happen, but when you split from your boyfriend of 5 years and then received a text from your old friend Jamie asking for you to come and visit you jumped at the opportunity to meet up with your friend again and escape your life for a few weeks.
"You look awfully young to be out this late." A familiar voice interrupts your thoughts. You turn to see John Dutton standing behind you. Black cowboy hat planted atop his greyed hair, his face still as handsome as the first time you'd laid eyes on him some years ago.
"I'm old enough sir." You reply and he laughs. "You want to join me? Gets awfully lonely drinking on your own."
"Sure, let's sit at a booth." He says and you eagerly follow him.
It didn't take you long to realise that John didn't remember you at all, after saying your name you looked for an ounce of recognition in his eyes but found nothing. But why would he? He had four children to look after, he didn't have the time to meet all of their friends so your slight offence soon went away when he ordered another round to your table.
He introduced himself properly and you shook his hand like it was the first time meeting him. A part of you wanted to interrupt him and explain that you already knew him as you'd met years ago but you stopped yourself. It would make things a little awkward wouldn't it?
"I'll tell him later." You thought to yourself as you took a mouthful of the fruity gin that was brought to your table moments ago. "Of course I'll tell him." You thought as his fingers rested on yours 10 minutes later atop the sticky table of the booth. "Ok I'll tell him now." You thought when two hours of laughter and flirting went by and the bell rang for closing time. John held his arm out for you to take as he lead you to his truck, he opens the passenger door for you and playfully taps your ass as you climb in.
"Where you staying?" He asked when he turned the truck on.
"Motel down the road, got a room there for a few nights whilst I visit my friend."
"Maybe I shouldn't tell him." You thought when his rough palm rested atop your bare thigh as he drove, your legs parting ever so slightly in reaction to the touch. If it weren't for the alcohol in your system his presence alone could intoxicate you. With his rough voice and equally rough hands you felt your underwear dampen as John pulled into the motel car park.
Stepping out of the truck he wasted no time in rounding the vehicle and opening your door, holding a hand out for you to hold onto as you jumped down, your legs almost gave way underneath you as your feet hit the cold concrete below but John was quick to steady you. In the short walk from the truck to your motel door you'd decided to confess everything to your friend's dad. Standing with your back to the door after unlocking it you open your mouth to speak. "John I-" The overdue confession was interrupted by a kiss and just like that all regard for doing the right thing was thrown out the window.
Johns lips felt just like you'd imagined. His kiss was rough but his lips were soft. Carefully but quickly he moved you backwards, through the motel door and continued pushing until your legs hit the edge of the old bed frame. You both stopped and John turned, you thought for a second he was leaving but instead he closed the motel room door and locked it before returning to you. Slowly, Johns hands traced up your spine to the zipper that held your dress taut and he pulls the metal down, goosebumps prick your skin as the fabric falls off your body and gathers around your feet.
You're bare against him. The only thing covering you now is a lacy thong and your boots. "I feel a little under-dressed here Mr Dutton." You say dropping down onto the hard mattress.
He laughs, a deep but hushed laughter that makes you blush. With zero hesitation John removes his shirt, discards his boots and undoes his belt, letting his jeans drop alongside your dress. Despite his age he was still in incredible shape, strong arms and shoulders from years of heavy lifting, a broad chest speckled with hair and scars and strong thighs that painted muscle throughout years of horse riding.
"Let me get these off for you darlin." He says dropping to one knee and taking hold of your right ankle. Slowly, he slid the boot off your foot, kissing your knee as he did so and then moved to your other foot where he repeated the action.
Once freed from your boots you shimmy up to the top of the bed until you're led against the uncomfortable pillows situated there. John follows you and positioned himself between your spread thighs, his bulge pressing down onto your clothed pussy. His lips meet yours again in a hungry kiss and you feel his cock twitch against you when you run your fingers through his hair.
Pulling away from your lips John kissed down your neck to your chest where he latched his mouth around one nipple. A hand that was previously resting on your waist moved down into your underwear where he caressed your cunt before pushing two fingers into your sopping hole.
"Nice and wet for me aren't you baby?" He says pulling himself from your tit, voice aged and gravely from years of smoking, drinking and shouting.
"All for you Mr Dutton." You reply and he moans.
John continues to kiss down your body until his face settles between your thighs. Effortlessly he pulls your underwear off you and dives face first into your pussy letting out a soft hum as he does. You're caught off guard, you'd half expected John to be the type of man to go straight to fucking but this was a pleasant surprise. He lapped at your cunt, tongue diving this way and that like he was trying to commit the shape to memory and you were loving it.
He'd already made you cum once and by the time he sucked on your clit again you were clawing at the bedsheets and wriggling around under him trying to move. "John, please." You whined and he laughed. Finally he stopped his torment and flicked your clit once more with his tongue before moving back up the bed. His boxers had been discarded now but you had no clue when he'd took them off.
With zero hesitation and precise aim built from years of experience John sheathed his cock inside of you, your gasp was stifled by his mouth pressing against yours. You could taste your cum on his lips and tongue as he kissed you though you barely had time to savour the taste as John began pounding his cock into you.
"Fuck." You sighed in ecstasy. You'd thought that maybe because of his age you would be doing most of the work but John proved you wrong. With your legs perched on his shoulders his balls slapped against your arse as he pummelled into you, snapping his hips in a fierce rhythm chasing his release which was approaching quickly.
In another quick motion John dropped your legs from his shoulder and before you could protest he flipped you both around so he was on his back and you were straddling him. "You good at riding baby?" He asked, voice low and accompanied with straggled breaths.
"The best you'll ever have." You replied and immediately got to work with swirling your hips and grinding on his cock. The curled mass of his pubic hair tickled your clit as you rode him and you moved your hands to find purchase on his thighs behind you, head rolled back and tits bouncing you were a sight to behold. John stared at you and forgot for a moment that your tight cunt was milking his cock, the way the light in the shitty metal room shone on you made you look angelic.
John shook himself out of his haze and landed a firm slap to one of your tits. You brought your head forwards and peered down at him. You lowered your face towards him and John took the opportunity to bring you closer to him. Your forehead was pressed to his as he gripped your waist and began to buck his hips upwards, his cock hitting that sweet spot with every single deep thrust.
With one final thrust John came deep inside of you. He wasn't quick enough to pull out but thankfully you'd remained on birth control after your breakup. "So good darlin'." He says with a grunt and gives your thigh a little tap to indicate it was time to get off him.
Your legs ached but you managed to throw yourself down to the empty space next to him on the bed. You didn't want to assume that John would spend the night though when he climbed off the bed and began to put his clothes back on you couldn't help but feel a little hurt at his lack of aftercare. "Sorry to leave you so soon darlin' but I've got a busy day tomorrow." He explains after seemingly sensing your hurt.
You accept his explanation and throw on a dressing gown to cover yourself as you walk him to the door. With one final kiss to your forehead John leaves the motel room with a soft smile resting on his face. "I'll look forward to bumping into you again John." You say testing the waters slightly.
"I have a feeling you'll come find me before you leave." He smirks. With that John steps to his truck and you close the door. His scent mixed with the smell of sweat and alcohol is plaguing the room. You should shower, but your feet are already pulling you to the bed and before you have the chance to fight back you're under the covers and drifting off to sleep. Dreams of John Dutton infesting your mind.
Fortunately it wasn't the pounding of a headache that woke you up in the morning. Unfortunately however it was the persistent buzzing of your phone on the crappy bedside table. Deice edging closer to the ridge of the wooden surface. Without checking you pick the phone up and press it to your ear.
"Hey you're finally awake, my dad's hosting a meal tonight, would you like to join?"
It's Jamie. His question makes you sit right up so fast the room spins slightly. "Oh, no thanks Jamie, I've got other plans." You stammer out an unconvincing reply.
"No you don't." He laughs. "He's not as grumpy as he used to be so you're coming, I'll pick you up at 6."
"Ok." You mutter softly. With a lump in your throat dropped your phone onto the bedside table and sank back into the pillows. Your head is taken over by thoughts of regret as you think back to the hours you shared under the assumption that he didn't know who you were and now you felt guilty. Guilty at the fact that you knew him all this time and still fucked him on the grotty motel bed that now had your suitcase rested on it.
You stayed in that position for the majority of the day until 4pm rolled around and you were forced to get out of bed by another call from Jamie reminding you of the dinner. You took a shower and picked out a nice dress, one that hid as much as possible but still showed off your natural curves, ones that John had run his rough hands over some hours ago. Your phone pinged and you heard the beep of a car horn outside. Taking a few more deep breaths you plucked up what little courage you had left and stepped out of the room with your bag, tucking your phone into the side pocket as you walked down the steps to the car park.
"You seem nervous." Jamie says, eyes fixed on the road.
"I am, been a while since I've seen your family."
"You'll be fine, if any of them give you a hard time just give me a nudge." His reassurance didn't help as he turned down the road that led right to the front of the Dutton ranch.
You wanted to try and avoid John as much as possible. Try and reconnect with his kids, well, they weren't kids anymore, hell you even thought about running to the bunkhouse to make awkward conversation with the ranch hands, anything to make your stay go faster but it was pointless.
John was already waiting. He stood on his porch, staring at you as Jamie turned the truck off. You looked away for a second to undo your seatbelt and open the door but when you looked back John was gone. A part of you honestly thought you were losing it, but when Jamies hand pressed to the middle of your back as he motioned you inside the house you realised that it was no dream at all.
There he stood. Mr Dutton. The man who had fucked you not even a day ago in a shitty motel room, the man you knew all about but who couldn't remember you. It hit you like a freight train when he turned to look at you. Once soft blue eyes replaced with a stern gaze that made you feel small. He crossed the room, said hi to Jamie and then brought all of his attention to you. "I'm John, nice to meet you." He says holding his hand out. You take it into your own and his grip feels tight. He's definitely angry, but he's doing a fantastic job at hiding it.
Sensing some tension, though he doesn't know why, Jamie takes the opportunity to save you from his father's gaze and gives you an updated tour of the house. You'd been here plenty times before but the decor had become more modernised, some pieces still remained, things that were too nice or held memories that John wasn't ready to part with yet. After the tour Jamie returned you back to the living room where you were then forced to try and have a normal conversation with Beth. She asked a few questions here and there and you answered where you could until she asked if you'd gotten lucky since coming back.
You laughed. "Oh yeah, you have no idea. That's a story for another day though." You reply and she laughs. After some small talk, where you were practically glued to Jamies side the table was set. Everyone took their places and you were forced to sit opposite John who had been glaring at you ever since you'd walked through the front door.
The food was great, the wine even better as it worked its magic at surpassing your anxieties about being under the same roof as a man you had ridden to high heavens hours ago. Under the table you feel Johns boot tap yours and it makes you jump ever so slightly. Avoiding his gaze you continue eating and conversing with his family until he taps you again. "Sorry." You announce. "Can you excuse me for a moment please." Your voice is shaking as you stand from your chair and quickly make your way out of the room and to the bathroom down the hall.
You run the cold tap and collect water in your hands, splashing it onto your face in an attempt to cool yourself down. "You knew." A familiar voice makes you jump as you dry your face with the flannel. Looking in the mirror you see John stood in the doorway of the bathroom, he's leaning against the doorframe, hands on his hips and his eyes fixated on the back of your head.
You turn around and his eyes finally meet yours. "I'm sorry, I tried to tell you but I couldn't find the right time. If id've known beforehand that Jamie was going to bring me to this meal I would have said something straight away."
He laughs. "Sure."
You stood in awkward silence and contemplated barging past John and walking back to your motel but the sound of the bathroom door shutting brought your attention back to him. He'd shut the door and was currently stepping towards you, a smirk plastered on his handsome face as he closed the distance.
"Y'know, when I saw you at that bar I could've sworn I'd seen you somewhere before." His voice low. "Why don't you stay here tonight, I've got a bed that's much nicer than a shitty motel one."
"Hmm, you didn't seem to mind the shitty motel one though." You reply with a flirty tone and he smiles. "Plus I've paid for the week, can't really afford to waste money like you Duttons."
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.
Summary: This is a fulfilled request for @lust-for-pan
Request: Hi! Im a huge fan of pirates of the caribbean & there really isnt enough fics, especially for norrington💔, & i was wondering if i could request something with him? I really dont like how he died, broke my heart. Can you write something where the reader saves him somehow? Maybe they disliked each other, she was a pirate and he the opposite, and she gives her life to save him or something? Idk but i need him to be saved pls?💚💚💚
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings: Spoilers for PotC if you haven’t seen it??? Death. Pain.
Author’s Note: I want to thoroughly apologize to everyone who’s requested something, especially to the blog that requested this one. I’ve been so busy lately that I can barely stay above water, but that’s no excuse! I hope you really like this, and I apologize both for the wait and for any inaccuracies. (Also (Y/N) is your name, (h/c) is hair color, (e/c) is eye color, and (s/c) is skin color)
