Not a Treasure of Silver and Gold - Jack Sparrow x reader

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟏 - 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞

Tears welled up in your eyes, in copious amounts like a river at its source, and flowed down your cheek like a steam, meandering through the lands. The teardrops left long salty trails on your face, travelled down your chin, and dripped onto your collarbone. 

Your lungs screamed for air, you gasped and gasped but couldn't breathe. Your heart was beating out of your chest. 

Only after minutes of uncontrolled breathing were you able to calm down. But you couldn't stop the crying. 

You cried hard yet you didn't bawl: You snivelled more than you sobbed, whimpered more than you screamed. And even though your weeping was audible, it was soft and gentle since your face was buried in Jack's white shirt. 

But just because your crying sounded soft that didn't mean your face was matching that first impression. You could only imagine what you looked like right now: red, puffy eyes, flushed cheeks, a scrunched-up face. 

However, your appearance wasn't your biggest problem at the moment. 

You still couldn't believe that after just a few weeks of freedom, your hard-fought new life would turn back, turn back to your former life like the hands of a clock with the beginning of each hour. 

Would you have to return to Nassau? Would you have to marry the Duke? And how would you explain your disappearance? 

These questions continued to haunt you like ghosts, and only Jack's warm hands could distract you from them, as they had done during your first panic attack: They stroked your cheek slowly and gently and dried your tears, stroked your shoulders, your back, in regular intervals and rhythmic movements. 

You loved the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin, his soft fingertips but rough palms, and you enjoyed every brush despite your anxiety. 

And at some point, after a long time, your sniffling died, your tears dried, your heartbeat balanced, your breathing regulated, your heart calmed down, your mind stopped racing. 

You could hear the rustling of the sea again, feel the sun on your skin, listen to the birds flying by, sense Jack's heartbeat and breath.

You slowly lifted your head from Jack's chest. 

Now that you could think clearly again, you felt uncomfortable with how close you were to each other. Not because you didn't want to be close to Jack, quite the opposite: if you had learned one thing in the last few days, it was that Jack Sparrow had an almost magical power that attracted you. 

You were attracted to the clever, cunning, and morally reprehensible pirate, there was no doubt about that. But when you were snuggled up to Jack, you wanted to look good and not tearful like you were right now. 

So, you sat up straight and turned your head away.

Jack's stroking immediately stopped.

"(y/n)?"

You didn't answer. 

You had cried all your tears, had let all the anxiety run free; Now there was room in your head for other worries: your appearance, for example. 

Because even though your heart was heavy with all kinds of fears, you still felt desire for Jack. And you wanted him to feel the same, you wanted him to desire you. 

So, you had to look decent, didn't you?

"(y/n)? Hey, lass, look at me when I talk to you!", Jack insisted, somewhat demanding.

Again, you didn't answer. You were way too embarrassed.

Then, suddenly, you felt Jack's hand touching your jaw: His thumb, rough and broad, his long fingers cupped your chin, they cupped it gently yet firmly, turning your head in his direction.