#Izzy hands x reader

[izzyhandswhore]

Izzy’s nicknames for you..

• Izzy calls you love first thing in the morning, whether he’s softly telling you to go back to sleep for another hour when you catch him getting dressed at the crack of dawn or as he bids you a sleepy, raspy good morning when he wakes up, punctuated by tiny, lazy kisses wherever he can land them. “Morning, love.”

• He smiles and says “yes, love”, sometimes with an affectionate eye roll when you ask him a favour or get all worked up about something.

• Izzy calls you sweetheart when you’re in distress. “I know, sweetheart,” he whispers, letting you squeeze his hand tight while someone stitches up a wound, or while he nurses you when you’re sick, “I know, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” It’s never his fault.

• Darling is for when he’s teasing you, though his accent often drops the g. You get caught watching him train and he grins and says, “like what you see, darling?”

[bowieandqueen11]

Love For You / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: I just found your ao3 account a few days ago and your writing style is excellent! Legitimately some of the most visual and evocative writing I've seen on that website, and I've been devouring your izzy hands fics since I caught up on season two! Can I request another izzy x reader post-amputation and just the reader caring for him while he's pining hard? Maybe the reader has some medical experience so they've been able to help him a little better than the rest of the crew, making sure he's taking time to heal in a difficult moment (physically as well as emotionally, god knows he needs that.) Letting him know he's loved and him realizing he hasn't...heard someone say that to him or treat him this gently in a long time

Thank you so much that's so kind of you to say, it's so lovely people finding me from AO3!! Honestly one of the best feelings, and goodness knows Izzy needs this :)

Okay so I haven't been able to watch the new season so all my knowledge is coming from Tumblr gifs and posts, so I really hope this isn't too ooc my lovely!! Anyway let's get this man some comfort!

I spent all day writing this, so all comments are much appreciated! Thank you! :)

Warning: mentions of blood/injury, mentions of physical abuse, mention of smoking, kissing and some strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Something monstrous seemed to be creeping up the shuddering walls.

No, it wasn't the stifling silence that had seemed to envelop those of Blackbeard's crew still left, hiding their heads between their legs and closing their eyes as they felt the quicksand drain out through the fingers. Nor was it the creaking organ snore of Wee John thrumming up the timber; the rest of your usually upbeat crew grew despondent as they wracked their brains together and came up with a way to save you all from imminent demise, having flopped onto their sides and fallen into fitful sleeps just before sunset. Sadly it wasn't even the feel of Lucius' finger stroking yours through the cold grates of your jail, his smile lost and forlorn as he thumped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as well, feeling even more entrapped in himself than you did.

It was, in fact, the hard glare Izzy Hands was shooting into the side of your face. He hadn't spoken a word since Stede had left, choosing instead to let out the odd sniffle from his corner bucket and busy himself by watching you like a man possessed: like something wild, something smothering itself in the shadows to stop its howling heart from devouring the light around itself. From tearing his dagger out of his scabbard and devouring his heart himself with clawed hooks. He looked ghastly, and he looked gargantuan as the life seemed to convulse within him, leeching out and darting its tongue around the creaking wood until it filled up the room and began to fill your heart up with a hope you thought had been lost weeks ago.

He looked beautiful and proud and defeated and assured in spite of it all, and you were finally beginning to understand why Zheng Yi Sao had locked him away in this cage.

And in a way, it terrified you that this cataclysmic, lucent shadow was creeping its merry way straight for you.

The tenebrosity was quickly broken by Izzy's shining eyes gliding across the bridge of your nose to land instead on your top lip. He wasn't entirely sure why exactly he was feeling so timid. It wasn't as if Frenchie was still awake, as he was too busy hugging his free arm around the remaining muscle of Izzy's thigh and burying his head into the muscle with a soft murmur of contentment. Yet the idea of being caught leering at you like a dopey boy was enough to make him judder with embarrassment, and enough to send Frenchie's head keeling sideways so his lips were rammed up against his trousers.

Thankfully, it was exactly Frenchie's floppy head that gave away the fact that he was fast asleep, and allowed you to steal Izzy away for yourself. With a gentle lift, you were quick to replace your friend's cheek with your own hand, giving the side of Izzy's thigh a reassuring squeeze.

'You look like you're bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders', you sighed as you took in Izzy's harrowing form. It wasn't his paleness that worried you, or the redness that cracked and splintered around his irises. It was the way he was watching you, eyes trained steadily on your face for the last hour and a half, as if he were doing his best to memorise everything he could before he ran out of time. As if he would never have the chance to look at you again.

The edges of his lips curled up, and he thumped his head back against the wall. 'Me? I'm feeling fucking fantastic. Never been better. Why do you ask?'

'Well', you began as softly as you could, straining to reach the vials in your hip knapsack to retrieve some salve for the scarring that had begun to pucker around his skin. 'We are about to be executed. I guess I just wanted you to know this is a safe space to let it all out before we are. A confessional of sorts, if a little makeshift.'

He wet his bottom lip as his eyes darted down to you, confused.

You pointedly looked him in the eyes, before unscrewing the vial and dipping your pointer finger in. Making sure he didn't seem too uncomfortable, you leant forwards as innocuously as you could, trying not to startle him anymore than he already had been. With a swipe, you began to rub the herb mixture around the sore looking welts left around his cut leg, making a point to run your fingertips soothingly over the goose-bumps that began to rise at the feel of you against him.

'I wanted you to know- to know that you're always safe around your crew.' You did your best not to let your voice tremble, no matter how much your throat tried to choke you. You turned your head back down to his leg, trying to hide the fact that your mouth was crumpling in on itself.

He winced as your hand brushed against a tender point, and you ran the back of your knuckles over his skin in apology. He felt like he was burning alive: a fire blazing so furiously in the pit of his stomach he was sure it was gushing out, swinging around the room and warning everyone of his impending falter as he fell upon the crags of your fingers below. He had no idea how, in all the seas, you couldn't possibly see how ecstatically devastated he was to be sitting here with you.

He didn't mind dying. He wasn't scared of it. As long as you were there to enhalo his misty light in the end. As long as you were there to love him until his last breath. As long as, no matter what form he took, you were still enclosed around his heart.

'Who says I have anything to confess?', he glanced at you with heavy eyelashes, eyes bleary but sharp as he started straight into your soul. I don't have to confess it, he thought, it's so fucking painfully obvious.

How could he confess something so inexplicable? Something that wrapped around all of his bones, that wormed its way into parts of himself he thought long numb: long lost. How could someone ever articulate the feeling of life itself? It was insurmountable, far too transcendent, too impetuous for mortals to to unsnarl into words.

'Oh Izzy', you said, mouth falling into a frown at the way his hips reflexively bucked up at the feel of a new cream being slathered around his leg to try and numb the pain. He moaned, trying to mask the sound by clenching his fist into his mouth and biting desperately into his knuckles. One more touch, and he was about to fall apart. 'Your eyes are drowning in so many regrets I can barely see the stars in them anymore.'

He huffed out a laugh, looking at you with incredulous, wild eyes. He willed his hand to stop shaking as he let it rest, still clenched, by his quivering chin. 'Not in my eyes. You never could. That's not possible. Not me.'

'I could.' You were quick to reply. 'I always could. You're our guiding light, Israel Hands.'

Oh boy, if he wasn't devastated before he sure was now. His face fell immediately, and for a moment you felt your heart ache with a sore regret at the silvery tears that began to cloud in the crinkles of his eyes. But then he does something that surprised even you.

The way he opened his legs up was almost miniscule: too small for anyone who didn't know this man's quirks and intricacies and giveaways to notice, but a well aimed shot that sent a rush of heat prickling up your cheeks. Before he changed his mind and retreated into himself again, you were quick to scoot your backside over and come to rest far too intimately between the tightening leather of his inner thighs.

'You can't be surprised that we care about you', he started after a moment of comfortable silence, leaning the side of your head to rest gingerly on his intact leg. 'That the whole crew has always cared about you. Look, someone even got you a mop-', you gestured to his side, trying to make him laugh before the sun rises, and thankfully you succeeded.

He shook his head out as if trying to refocus himself as his chuckle died out in his chest. He didn't want to laugh right now. He wanted to focus on the weight on his leg: on the feel of your nose brushing on the length of seam running up to his groin. He blinked back heavy tears that spread along his lashes, sniffling coarsely. He probably should laugh, he thought. He should be fucking howling, spitting, going rabid at the irony that the one thing he had been yearning his whole life was lying right there on his lap, and he only had a few hours left in his pathetic life to savour it.

'How are you doing, by the way? Seriously', you jolt your head up to watch him quizzically. He did his best not to meet your eye, choosing instead to stare at the black grains above Jim's slumped head. 'After, you know, everything that happened with Ed-'

'You don't need to worry about me', he sniffed, but his hand twitched as he lifted it up to rest on his thigh, just above the top of your head. 'It's my job to worry about all of you. Not the other way round.'

'When are you going to get it through your thick skull that we want to worry about you. This isn't some kind of weird mandate or self-preservation tactic on our part Izzy. You may be a fucking idiot, but you're our fucking idiot. Let us take care of you too, like you've been looking out for us.'

He squeezed his eyes shut, his head beginning to shake furiously enough to send his stray silver locks clambering over his eyes. He was glad for their cover, so he wouldn't have to see the way you had lurched forward: the way you were pleading with him with your eyes, as you rose onto your knees and pressed your hands firmly around his waist, just where the joint of his legs met the soft squish of his tummy.

'Don't you shake your head at me. We all know you've been trying to direct Blackbeard's anger your way. We do!' You cocked your head, trying to follow his face as he squirmed in your grasp. Losing your patience, you gripped his jaw with your thumb and pointer finger, directing Izzy's widening eyes back your way. 'We do, Izzy. We know what you've been doing for us. What you've been sacrificing. And I'm sorry - I'm sorry that none of this is fair. I'm sorry that any of this happened at all.'

One. Two. You tapped your finger a third time, your fingernail swirling over the fine nuances of the holster running over his sawed leg.

It had always been your little secret: a shared confidence, between you and Izzy. One tap. Two. Three on each other's arms after battles, three taps there on your shoulder before you went down to your bunk, three fleeting touches burning at the back of his spine to let him know that you were alright: to let him know that he was alright.

You only stopped when you heard a brisk inhale: a sharp whistle that broke through your indulgent repose and made Roach roll over. Thankfully, a moment later, the cook's arm was splayed out across the floor again, and his leg kicked out backwards with a swift jolt up poor Button's behind. Izzy, though. Izzy, despite the surprising tenderness of the moment, was almost smouldering. The muscle by the side of his femur began to writhe underneath just the point of your fingertip, the feeling of just your warmth making him feel too feeble. Too needy to even control the rest of his body; he desperately tried to reach out a hand to shove your shoulder back and push you away, but his mind was too busy swimming with the concentration of trying to remember how to inhale.

The sharp breaths he dragged in painfully were starting to worry you, as were the wracks of his spine as he seemed to writhe backwards and forwards, back arching off the wall before collapsing back down on itself painfully again.

He felt your hand clench around his back, guiding him to sit still again. You were close, far too close - your noses almost touching, as you took a risk and used your free hand to slowly.... god, so fucking slowly he felt like he was going to split in half. He looked like a wounded animal: something terrified of being hurt as his eyes stayed trained on your approaching fingers, face wary until your fingertips touched his hair and tucked it behind his ear.

And then he felt that warmth. That warmth against the shell of his ear. He bit down hard enough on his lip to draw blood, and for once, he was glad for the taste. It was comforting. Familiar. Deserved. He wasn't one for the fucking heartache of tenderness. And god, how his heart ached.

'Come on,' you nestled yourself between his legs again and perched your elbow up on his left leg. 'People must have cared about you before. Might as well get it all out in the open. Be honest with each other now.'

He paused, before the stubbornness wormed its way in again. 'No, they haven't-'

'Well, what about your parents? Your parents must have been kind. Besides, the crew obviously cares about you. I obviously care about you. Stop being so pig-headed.''

He startled you with a laugh: he seemed to choke on it, his teeth baring as he barked it out, yet he still couldn't seem to look at you quite yet. That's alright. You had an eternity left in these few hours.

Kindness?

He couldn't remember a time before joining Stede's crew that he had ever felt such a thing, let alone let it fester in the crevices of his ribcage until he felt the dreaded thing was going to claw its way out. Perhaps, if he let himself fester in the silence for a moment, an image of his mother would squirm its way out of his long repressed memories. Clawing and scratching and digging her pointed nails to dig her way out. No, his mother had never offered him a jot of comfort. She could stay buried in that coffin he had stuffed her down into, instead of rotting inside of him. He had enough barnacles to scrape off his body as it was.

It wasn't as if he had any surprisingly sweet memories of his life before. His mother had never been one for grace: her words always bit at his brain like a frenzied tempest, his actions never good enough. Once, when he was six years old, he had tottered up before the sun rose and followed his older brother down to the docks, trying to please his mother. Even so young, he had spent most of his years yearning to be seen as anything but the 'nuisance' or 'pest' his mother used to spit at his feet, and yearned to return with a line full of fish to please her. To help her with the chores that she always yammered his father had left her to rot with. Had left him. That he rotted away her youth. When he came slinking into the doorway, a nervous smile twitching at his ruddy cheeks, his mother had taken one look at the muddy, damp fringes of his trousers and had slapped him clean across the face for his troubles.

Another part of him remembered her warmth. The same that radiated off your palm as you spread your fingers across his knee; the way she would sometimes scutter into his bed at night, and he could smell the harsh sting of alcohol on her breath as she curled up and hugged him close against her chest. Of the way she would sometimes let him sit on her knee once the three of them had returned home after service, and she would brush back his growing hair and he would curl himself up to chase the stray ray of sunlight that glowed against her neck.

It had left him a Gordian mess of a man. Simultaneously spending his life seeking any kind of validation, any kind of affection, while his stubborn self-preservation did its best to push everyone away.And yet here you came, watching him with those sweet, sad eyes. Swinging the sword to undo him.

'I don't remember much about them', he replied curtly, but not unkindly. 'My father left us when I was young. I was... mainly left to my own devices.'

You nod slowly, letting his words thinking in. Letting the misery drenching every seething heave of his tongue wash over your head. 'Well', you began to rub your thumb in circles against his trousers, 'at least you have us here now. One good thing to add to the pile.'

There we go. The knot's slowly being undone.

You tried to smile, but the intensity of his gaze falling on you again unsettled you.

'You're right.' His voice was far too earnest for his own good. 'I have had one good thing in my life. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.'

You nearly jolted when you felt his hand smack down on top of yours. He had closed his eyes to try and hide himself from his discomfort, but his gloved fingers still slid between yours and squeezed despite himself. Once he was assured they were firmly intertwined: his own grasping tight enough to bust the leather at the stitching, he dared himself to finish his train of thought before he lost his nerve.

'I do... I do care about the crew. None of this was their fault, and they shouldn't have been fucking blamed for it. But I- I, I care about someone else far more than all of this twatty lot put together.'

It's a whisper into the darkness. A despairing yell of defiance against the solitude. A smothered light, long lingering and far longer forgotten. A spark of hope against the threat of ruination. It was a silver tear, glinting like starlight against his iris and falling with a content plop onto the back of your hand.

'I-I-', he stuttered out, clenching his teeth as he wills himself not to cry. 'I-'

The words refused to unlatch from his throat. Luckily, you were adept enough to notice the longing that drew a sad ache across his face.

'Izzy, I-'

'Let me finish', he stumbled out, his whole face now contorting as he struggled with the weight of it all. His bottom lip began to wobble against his will, face falling in on itself.

'I have-I have... love. For you. 'What I'm trying to say is'-, he shakes his head, chiding himself.

'Izzy, I know, it's alright. I know. I understand.' You grabbed tighter onto the back of your hand, enveloping it with your free one until his stopped shaking, begging him to realise you could see him.

'No-. No. If I don't say it now, I'm worried I never will.'

'Take your time, take your time. We have all the time in the world'. A sob finally gasped out from Izzy, chest heaving as he felt you draw his hands up towards your mouth. Still safe. Still warm. Still firmly cupped between your own, but the feel of your lips brushing against his knuckles was enough to send him reeling. The gentle peck that followed, though, was enough to finally let him break free.

A tentative finger reached out, checking for any signs of repulsion before landing awkwardly to point into the blade of your shoulder. He seemed to freeze: immobile marble frozen in fear as he seemed unaware as to what to next. After a few wary blinks, he clumsily spent a few seconds trying to manoeuvre the rest of his arm to cross across your back, before tugging your torso to lean closer towards him.

For a moment, it finally seems as if the world has skittered upright on his axis again. It felt normal. It felt right, feeling him grow comfortable with affection again as he melted, for the second time that week, into your hug. For his sake, as he burrowed his head into the pulse point of your neck until his stubble began to tickle your collar bone, you pretended not to hear the maimed whimpers that struggled past his closed lips.

The only time he moved was to raise his head up towards your nose, bumping it playfully against the tip of your own. Then another graze. A rub, and then another one, his eyes the whole time languidly drawn down to stare at your cupid's bow, until he slowly brought himself down to breathe unsteadily against your mouth. After a final moment of contemplation, he blinked placidly before closing his eyes and tilting his head to close the miniscule distance between the two of you.

His jaw was tense as you ran your finger down it, so busy trying to commit to his memory the pressure of your lips against his bottom one that he was forgetting to breath. But he didn't pull away. In fact, his hand clamped around your neck, digging almost painfully into your back as he stumblingly latched onto you, forcing himself further against your opening mouth. His hand found solace by cupping the back of your skull, chest squeezed against your breasts as he opened his lips and almost devoured you whole.

A loud 'awww!' erupted from your side, making the two of you jolt apart. The only problem was, Izzy's bottom lip had been rather firmly attached to yours. This meant that as you drew back, Izzy, in his stubborn unwillingness to let you go, let his bottom lip drag down along your inner mouth until a line of saliva connected your bottom lips, which only made the person the other side of the brig giggle even louder.

'You guys are cute', Black Pete yawned with a wakening stretch.

'Yes!', Roach chimed in as he teddy bear rolled his lanky legs round in front of him. 'I swear!', he continues, ostentatiously wiping his finger underneath his eye, 'I must be crying! I'm two seconds away from going up there and commencing our escape myself.'

With a tilt of your head that hit Izzy's chin, you looked at the cook incredulously. Izzy only gazed down at you past the crook of his nose, wonderstruck as the he let the words wash over his head.

'You. You really think you can take on all those very competent pirates up there.'

'Of course!'

'You cried for twenty minutes earlier about soup!'

Roach waved his hand unconvincingly in front of his face. 'Broth, it was broth! But I'm great with knives, remember! I have one hidden in my underwear right now!'

'Why... why is it in your underwear?', Oluwande piped in as he rested his head on the side of a barrel.

'Yeah, you weren't captured', Archie added, shuffling her own head off Jim's shoulder to look out past the bars. 'Why isn't it, I don't know, in your pocket or something.'

Even though Roach has opened his mouth to answer, his train of thought is broken by the tired grumble of another one of your friends. 'I hate to admit it, but that was actually very sweet', Lucius chimed in, twisting his lips into a shit-eating grin as he eyed the both of you up, another cigarette now firmly tucked in and freshly lit between his fingers as he took a drag.

'Is everyone on this fucking boat awake?!', Izzy cried, wrapping a hand protectively around your shoulder joint.

You snorted, burying your head protectively against the soft skin of his bellybutton. The sound of the crew beginning to argue with an increasingly impatient Izzy was like music to your ears; the monster was beginning to retreat.

No longer did it hang and shake and pierce the walls with its talons until it bled umbras. It retreated: chased away by the comely love of your crew. Of your family. Of the man who held you protectively against him, blinding you with his tender love.

[caitlinsnicket]

deserving more

summary: izzy needs to be taken care of, and you do just that

warnings: low self esteem implied, sad izzy, angst, lots of fluff though

a/n: this is the longest thing i've ever written i've been manic for a whole week i'm going crazy i need him in my pocket (i'm also posting this on ao3 under the same name so,,,

Too long had passed since you got to the front of his cabin door, and even longer your hand hovered its handle. He could shun you, could throw something at your face, could stab you, he could be dead. You didn’t really care, to be honest, you just wanted him to be okay. Feeling yourself get calmer, and ready for whatever Izzy you could get (the angry, the moody, the melancholic, the drunk), your hand finally touched the handle and you opened the door.

He was sitting on his sad excuse for a bed, bottle of liquor halfway empty, hair falling on his forehead in such a way that no light reached his eyes. The whole room was a mess, things on the ground everywhere, and it was difficult for you to find a place to put down the things you brought with you.

“What do you want?” He said after a long sigh, taking another sip from the bottle and muttering something else that you couldn’t understand.

You had to choose your words carefully. You knew how he could be, but given his expression, which made your heart ache, you didn’t think he had any energy left in him.

“I want to help. Just… tell me how.”

Izzy took a sip of his drink, not bothering to look at you while you spoke. 

"And how can you help?" The former first mate asked, his tone somewhat rude. Still, no real venom behind his words.

You had to suppress a smile. He had no idea how endearing he could be.

“That’s what I’m asking, dear. Let me help you.” You stepped closer now, and he watched your every move. Izzy rolled his eyes, the drink almost empty already. 

"Fine. What can you do then? Sweetie, that is." He rolled his eyes, leaning back on the wall behind him. You chuckled, moving things around with your feet to make a smoother path for him. You didn’t dare look at his leg. You tried to focus on something else.

“Do you have more alcohol in here?” You ask as you take the bottle from his hand and throw it out of the room, not caring if it was smashed. You’d deal with it later.

He scoffed, getting up with difficulty and going up to a cabinet on the far left of his cabin. There, he retrieved another bottle, and struggled to get it open. 

“You’re lucky I don’t kill you for that. And I do have more stuff here, you got a problem?” He’s not managing to open it, and it’s such a weak attempt to show strength that it fills you with affection. 

You take the new bottle from his hands, gently so as to not startle him, and place it near the things you’ve brought with you. Keeping it for some other time might be a good idea.You try to make your voice soothing, as if he was a wild animal that could run off or bite at any moment.

“As long as I find it here, it’s going out. You stink, how long has it been since you’ve cleaned yourself? Time to get cleaned up.” You go to the tub on the right side of the place, filling it with the hot water you managed to bring, and start arranging things as they should be: the soaps and oils on a little bench beside the tub, a stool not too far away and a towel at arms length. Izzy scoffed again, but he made no attempts to try and take his drink back. 

"You think I stink? I took a bath not two days ago. I smell fine." He looked around, anywhere but you, and one might say he was embarrassed. 

“You stink because of the booze and the wet leather. And probably the dried tears. Come on, be a good boy and help me get you to the tub.” You reached for him, taking his arms gently in your hands. Izzy groaned and tried to pull away, but he was too weak to escape your grip. 

"I don't wanna."

“Shush now. There we go, look at the nice, warm water. I’d leave you to clean yourself, but you can barely stand. Is it okay if I help you with it?” It felt important to you that he knew he had power over himself and his body. He’d already been taken so much, it was the least he could have. Izzy groaned again, but a small part of him was starting to enjoy this, and he finally gave in. 

"F-fine."

“There’s my good boy.” You feel a flutter in my chest when his cheeks warm up a little, and reach for his gloves.

"Stop," Izzy said, blushing for a moment before he realized what he had said. The former first mate then covered his face in embarrassment. "I-I didn't mean to - I mean - this doesn't mean anything, alright?!"

“Right.” You extend the word as long as you can, and go back to the task at hand. You pull his hands back down, not looking at his face in an attempt to give him privacy. Still, you get a glimpse of his burning cheeks.

His hands feel warm against yours, the ink on them itching you to caress it with your lips. You try not to stare too much, soon moving to taking his vest out. His breath tickled your cheek, and if you looked up your lips would be inches away from each other. Reluctantly and with a deep breath, you take a step back to be able to look at him.

“I’m serious though. I just want to take care of you right now. We can talk about the meaning of things when you’re sober.” He started to get fussy again, but you pulled him back by his sleeves and started undoing the button on each of them.

"I can handle the meaning of things," Izzy said with a roll of his eyes. "I just want to sleep. I'll be alright, I swear." The former first mate then let his arms go limp as they were pulled back. "Get me clean, and then I'll think about meaning with you."

You don't answer him, instead, you get impossibly close, opening his shirt button by button, trying to ignore your quickened heartbeat.

“This okay?” You look at him this time, consequences be damned.

"Mph - yes - fine." Izzy was a little more than blushing at this point, his eyes darting somewhere else as you undressed him. "I know what you're doing, you know?" As his chest came into view, it became a little harder for you to concentrate on not biting him. You took a deep breath and a feeling of dread crossed you when you realized he noticed it. His cheeks were pink.

“Oh, really? What am I doing? Besides trying to take this off.” You stumble at the last word, his shirt completely off now, revealing his full chest and stomach. You licked your lips subconsciously, darting your eyes to the ceiling for a moment. “Now your pants.”

"You're trying to seduce me," He mumbled as he began to slide his pants down. "I know it's happening right now, and you can't deny it." He struggled a bit, but you didn’t dare to touch him then. He’d probably punch you if you tried.

You averted your eyes once his leg came into view, turning to the other side to give him privacy. Your fingers itched to touch him.

“I can’t seduce you, I know. You only have eyes for the captain. Even after this mess, it’s still him. I get it.” You inspect your shoes, alert to his grunts and movements. Soon, the sound of water splashing told you he was already inside the tub, and you turned back around.

“Then why even try? You know you can’t win, and I know you can’t win.” He sighed, splashing some water on his face, trying to wake up. “Don’t waste your time trying, because it’s never going to happen.” He slid himself up to his mouth in the water, watching you like a hawk.

“You’re worth it.” You say, hoping your voice doesn’t quiver, not looking at him while you take another bottle from your bag. “I’m going to sit behind you now and wash your hair, okay?”.

He ignores your warnings, staring into the distance as you pull a stool to the side of the tub and start organizing your items.

“ I'm really not." He mumbles, his voice hoarse. His expression was still grim, and he tilted his head in your direction to see what you were doing.

You gathered water on your hands, the warmth comfortable on your skin. You gently let it run down Izzy’s head, repeating the movements until his hair was completely wet. He sighed and leaned more to your side, his shoulders visibly relaxing. From your point of view outside of the tub, he looked small, like a hurt animal afraid to be hurt again. You opened up the bottle of hair wash that you stole from Stede’s cabin and started massaging his head very gently.

“I don’t know who told you that, but you are. To me, you are.” Talking about your feelings to him was easier when he wasn’t looking at you. He leaned back more, and you noticed his eyes were closed, the crease on his forehead almost gone.

“I’m a wreck.” He muttered, his hands moving slowly through the water. “How is that attractive?” His voice hesitated a little, and your heart skipped a beat.

“I mean, I was always into hot messes. You fit the description.” You said, a smile making its way to your face. Bubbles emerged from his hair, and you were careful to not let any of it go to his eyes. “Besides, I think you’re attractive even when you stink.” You scrape his scalp with your nails very tenderly, the touch barely happened.

Izzy shuddered, moving his head down slightly to avoid your wandering eyes. Still, you caught a glimpse of his pinkish cheeks and your smile got wider.

"Y-yeah, well - you're the only one then." He then glanced at you, a small smile on his face. "No one else likes me, I swear. The crew and the rest of the world despise me, and I can't blame them for that." The smile didn’t reach his eyes, as if he was making a joke at his own expense.

“You know what they call you? ‘Our Izzy’. They know why you're tough on them. I know why too. We know you care. I'm just the only one with romantic taste around here.” You rinse his hair from the bubbles, watching his chest going up and down as he breathes calmly. He didn’t respond for a while, simply playing with the bubbles in the water. His hair felt soft in your hands.

"I'm... too tough on them sometimes, I swear. I just... I just want to help them." His voice was so low you could barely hear it, a far cry from the man you first met when you boarded the ship. It felt hard to breathe for a moment.

“I know, dear, I know. It's alright.” You feel bold, and you lean down to kiss the crown of his head. He stills for a moment and then relaxes entirely. When you pull away, you get the soap and hold it out to him. “I'll let you wash yourself now, but I'm right here. Just... to talk or help.” I turn my back to him, trying to give him some privacy. There would be time for staring some other time. Hopefully.

Izzy held the soap in his hands, but didn’t use it yet. Instead, he stayed still, enjoying the feeling of the water around him and aching for the feeling of your fingers back on his scalp. He felt so comfortable he forgot what he was supposed to do, until you leaned back on the tub and he heard a thump.

"Right. Sorry..." The former first mate rubbed the soap along his arms, his legs, his back, anywhere that he could easily reach. You heard him groan and cover it up with a cough, probably cleaning his amputated leg. You felt your body boil at the thought of it, considering finishing the job with Blackbeard. After a while, you heard the sound of water splashing around, and then silence. "That felt nice." His voice broke when he said it, as if he was ashamed. You sighed at the bubbling affection on your chest, your first instinct to reach to him and squeeze him to you.

“Would you like me to continue? The water is still warm.” You turn slightly, so you could hear him better in case he whispered.

“I-I mean, if you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind.” You could hear the smile in his voice, and as you turned around you realized his eyes were previously closed. He opened them, his gaze glazed and tired. “I don’t want to be a bother. Just… Don’t do anything you’ll, y’know. Regret.” He quickly looked away, always ready for rejection. Expecting it. The only thing he’s ever known, by the looks of it.

The need to kill Ed burned in your veins.

Instead, you get the bottle of oil and put it in your hands, warming it up before you touch his head again, a happy sigh leaving his lips. His hair felt softer than ever as you moved slowly through its strands, leaving no part untouched.

“You’re the one thing I don’t regret.” I say, closer to his face now, studying his features and how the droplets of water dibble down his neck. Next, I inspect his hair, the strands making a stunning gradient of black, gray and white.

Izzy couldn't help but notice you looking at him. He cleared his throat a little, the blush on his face making another appearance. 

"Do I... Do I have something in my hair?" He was obviously fishing for a compliment here and hoping you'd just be nice and tell him how good he looked.  He didn’t realize how desperate he sounded. You turn your gaze to him, your positioning a little weird to stare at him properly, but comfortable nonetheless.

“No, just… You’re so pretty Izzy.” Your touch turns featherlight now, just touching him for the sake of being close.

Izzy went silent, his face growing even crimson at your compliment. His hands go back to nervously playing in the water. 

"I'm... I'm not pretty. Not in the slightest." His voice was almost shaky, and he tried to hide his face so you wouldn't see how much he was blushing. Your smile turns to a smirk, your fingers just brushing his hair back now.

“Well, I say you are. You're pretty and handsome and if you knew the power you have over people... The power you have over me.” You grow breathless, leaning closer to his ear. “You'd conquer the world.” In a whisper, you make him shiver, and he takes a quick glance at you before looking back to the water. His shoulders seem to relax, though.

"If I had that kind of power then I wouldn't be moping about right now." He thinks about the power he actually wanted to have, whose power he wanted to have, and his mind drifted off for a moment. It only took a second to realize that you were still looking at him, and he cleared his throat. "And, just how much do I have... 'power' over you?"

You took a moment to think. This would be it. You know there’s still life after this, and tomorrow will be another day, but it would change things. You look at him again, the tattoo on his cheek and neck, the strand of hair falling over his forehead. You move to stand beside him so you could look at him properly. He deserved to be looked at, to be acknowledged. You take a deep breath.

“I'd kill Blacçbeard for you. And Bonnet too. And anyone else you asked. I'd do anything, Izzy, just so you'd glance at me.” You lean in his direction, pushing the strands of hair away so you could get a clear view of his face. His eyes were the prettiest shade of brown. “That's why I acted like an idiot in the beginning.” You look down at your hands, then get up, feeling his eyes on you. From your bag, you get the clean towel and squeeze it in your hands, feeling its softness. “I wanted you to look at me.”

He looked like he was about to pass out. His heart was pounding in his ears, the urge to kiss you becoming almost irresistible. He knew this wasn't some act of kindness, something that was happening simply because you were a good person. It was something different, and he wasn't sure of what to do with that knowledge. He attempted to speak, but what came out was a mix of a scream and a sigh.

"W-what?"

“You heard me. Now, dry up, I have a surprise for you.” A shy smile makes its way to your face, and you rummage your bag again looking for the final thing you’d use today.

"Yes, ma'am." The former first mate's eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said. He made it too easy. "Right. Of course." Izzy then got out of the bath, taking the towel from your hand and drying himself up. He wasn't sure about anything anymore, but at the same time, he didn't mind this at all. As a matter of fact, he kinda liked it. It felt good to be desired like this. 

“Tell me when you’re ready” You tell him, holding the softest fabric you’d ever seen in your hands. Also stolen from Stede. 

He took a moment to finish up, holding the towel around his waist before calling out to you.

“Okay. I’m ready.” He says, readying himself for your gaze on him. Instead, you hold out your hand to him, a silky white nightgown coming into his view. He stares for a second, completely silent, and you let out a laugh at his reaction. His stomach curls at the sound, wishing nothing more than to hear it again.

“I know it wouldn’t be your first choice, but I found it a while ago and I thought you might need something nice. Soft. You deserve it, Izzy.” As your laugh died down, your voice became softer, as if trying to assure him that he was still safe, and still himself. “Plus, I only wore it a couple of times.”

He remained quiet for another moment before practically ripping it off your hand and mumbling profanities at you and Bonnet. You heard the towel hit the ground, and then the ruffling of fabric. 

With shaky hands, he put it on, the fabric feeling comfortable and cool against his skin. He took a look at the mirror on the opposite side of the room, and beamed at how pretty he looked, hair down and shiny clothes on. He felt warm all over, buzzing with life and excitement.

“You can turn around now.” His voice quavering but soft. As you turned around, you saw that his expression was soft too.

He looked like an angel, like a lost prince finally back home, like someone who finally got exactly what they needed to be happy. 

“Oh, Izzy.” You hold his right hand to give him balance as you stare, his cheeks a light red color now, even in the dim light. His smile is hesitant, but bright all the same. It takes all your strength to not kiss him right then and there. “You look perfect.”

You supported him as you made your way to his bed, and he seemed grateful as you did so. His eyes were expectant and hopeful, but you pushed your own excitement down to focus on him. You tucked him in, making sure he was comfortable, and sat beside him, intertwining your fingers together. Before you could say anything, he broke the silence.

“You can kiss me, if you want. Or, I don’t know. I don’t mind.” His fingers trace mindless shapes on the back of your hand, and you shiver at it. Still, your heart aches for him and his reaction. You pull his chin up with your fingers, making him look at you.

“Not tonight, love.” His pupils seem to widen at the nickname, and his lips part slightly. “And don’t get me wrong, I really want to. But not tonight. Not now. I’ll earn your affection Izzy, and I’ll do so gladly. And even if you don’t want me like that, I’ll still take care of you.” You caress his cheek then, his beard coarse against your fingertips. You smile at him, moving closer once again and kissing his forehead, your touch so light he could confuse it for a butterfly's.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. If you need anything, I’ll be in the cabin right beside this one. Just knock and I’ll come right away. Goodnight, Izzy.” You kiss his forehead again, taking in his puzzled expression, and you figure out you’ll have time to explain it to him some other day.

You leave the room, but before you close the door, you take a look at him. He stays still for a moment, his hands crossed on his stomach, his face deep in thought. Then, he smiles a little, contained and shy at himself and turns around, his back to you. You close the door, trying not to make noise, and make your way to your own cabin, your heart fluttering with what you could only assume was love.

[dragon-kazansky]

Captain Hands

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

Seems like the crew have taken to referring to you and Izzy as their unofficial pirate parents.

Requested by @rustedachilles

{Masterlist}

Warnings: Fluff. Izzy doesn't know what to do with being a father figure to the entire crew.

Parenthood

♡♡♡

At first neither of you caught on. It wasn't very direct and no suspicion rose from anything they said. It just went over your heads. You assumed it was the crew just being the crew.

Then you caught on. The family dynamic, or as much as you can have one on a ship, really started to show. The crew were coming to you for advice. They were bringing questions your way. At first you thought it was because you were the first mate. Then the "thank you ma/da" started and that's when you knew.

You accepted it.

You allowed it.

It made you feel warm in your heart. They saw you as family, and you saw them the same. Before it was an unspoken dynamic. Now it was really happening out in the open.

You liked it.

Izzy was so fucking confused. You had caught on before he did, but when he realised what they were saying and doing, he was so fucking lost.

The crew would send you to him to ask for things because they didn't want to get yelled at. They knew he wouldn't yell at you. Dad loved his partner too much to ever get mad them for anything.

Then it really became obvious.

"Ma/Da said it was okay for us to have a lunch break."

"Ma/Da said we could have shore leave soon."

"Ma/Da brought us some treats for the night watch."

Izzy eventually cornered you in your shared quarters. You were sorting some maps when he entered. His eyes never left your form as he closed the door behind him and walked over to you. You were so focused on the maps that you didn't even realise he was there until his hands settled on your hips.

He chuckled at the way you jumped. You turn around in his arms and smile.

"Hey Izzy!"

He sighs softly as he looks at you. "What is happening to our crew?" He asks softly.

"What do you mean?"

He looks you in the eye. "I mean, why are suddenly parents?"

You chuckle when you realise what he is asking. "Oh. Yeah, I don't know, but I like it. It's cute."

"Cute?"

You nod. "You don't like being a dad?"

Izzy looks absolutely bewildered. "I didn't sign to be their dad. I'm their captain!"

You chuckle again. "They see you as a father figure. Is that really so bad?"

He sighs again.

"Izzy, it's sweet. They trust us. They love us."

"I love you."

You grin. "Love ya too, you silly fool."

"Never thought I'd ever be a dad," he says softly.

"No? Never saw yourself having a family one day?" You ask, caressing his cheek gently.

"Didn't think I'd live this long."

You frown. "Don't say that."

Izzy's expression softens and he leans into your touch. He felt bad for even saying that out loud, but it was true. That's how he felt.

"This is our family. Own it." You give him such a gentle smile. His heart feels like it could beat right out of his chest.

"You're my family." He says that in the most broken little voice you had ever heard from him.

"Oh Izzy..."

You wrap your arms around him and hold him close. He returns the gesture, desperately needing this hug. He clings to you like a lifeline. You press a gentle kiss to his head.

You both stay like that for a little while. Izzy finds comfort in your arms. You're his safe space. His safe person.

It will take him a bit of time, but he will grow to love the family dynamic. He will own the father title. One day he will hear them call him 'Dad' and he will smile.

For now, he needs your help to get him there.

♡♡♡

@moon-jae - @fandom-star - @coolninjavoid - @angiiepaniic - @ljaneyx - @lxsm2 - @rustedachilles - @outer-space-beech - @callmemana -

[maximwtf]

 “What kind of a moron gets shot…”

Izzy x Reader

words: 1970

google docs pages: 3,5

warnings: blood, a gunshot wound, slight alcohol use

opening: A medic, you get shot in a crossfire. It’s only after things have settled a little that anyone has time to notice you. No one but you are used to removing bullets, so obviously the crew chose the next most experienced pirate to help you with your instructions. Izzy. 

AN// Reader can be any gender! I finally started watching this series, after putting it off for so long and oh my god do I love this man more than life itself. I would die for him. Anyway, sorry if this is a little ooc, I’m learning how to write for him ! Requests for him would also be lovely, I have so many ideas that I don’t even know what to write :D

 “What kind of a moron gets shot…”

The feeling of rain hitting your face kept you to your senses, additional moisture to the already wet wooden deck you were laying on. At least you had made it back, but that did not remove the fact that someone from the other ship had gotten a good shot at your thigh. For that reason, you didn't mind the wet fabric sticking to your skin. The waves of pain radiating from your thigh were enough to keep your mind from thinking of anything else. 

Your body curled up a little, hands going to hold the place of the wound on their own, or at least that’s what it had felt like. Like your body was moving on its own. There wasn’t much of a thought process happening in your mind, though it felt like you should have known what to do. You’d removed more than one bullet in your time, and it wasn’t a rare procedure to perform for you. But never could have you guessed the amount of pain a bullet wound caused. You’d only ever helped someone else and seen them try their best to stay still for your sake. As much as you had hoped these thoughts would have distracted you from the pain, they didn’t. The pain was still raging, making you groan and grunt silently against the deck. Or at least what you thought had been quietly up until voices became audible around you. They’d been there before as well, but they’d become somehow louder by now. Like the people that sounded further away were now closer. The crew must have noticed something was wrong.

You opened your eyes, still curled up on the deck. Most of the crew were there, standing near you. From your perspective and what was left of your vision, they seemed concerned. But probably rightly so. Most of them had become quiet, only light chatter among them. “Well, fucking someone help me.” You growled, allowing the words to come out and going back to gritting your teeth straight after. The chatter got louder for a moment before someone was pushed out from the group. By the sound of his voice, you identified him quite easily. The first mate of Blackbeard’s, Izzy. He did not sound keen on doing this, insisting for someone else to do it before accepting his fate. But you and mostly everyone else in the crew seemed to agree on him being the most experienced for this, after you. 

You knew their first idea would have been to just cut off the whole leg, but for the amount of times you’d helped them you were hoping they’d see this as owing it to you and actually helping.

Your vision was getting a little more blurry, not badly but enough to make things a lot more confusing. You tried to keep a straight head, knowing you’d have to assist Izzy while he got the bullet out. While these thoughts were running through your mind, two of the crew members of which you hadn’t seen who carried your form to the lower decks. No more of the rain, you thought. They cleared a table, and by the sound of it they must have just sweeped the items on it to the floor and placed you on the smooth surface instead. 

There was a moment of silence before through your haze you could hear Izzy’s voice clearly. “Well, fuck off? No need for an audience.” He said, and by the sound of it the people previously there made their way back up. “Cut the…the pant leg.” You said, not wanting to waste any more time. Izzy looked at you, doing as you said but with slight hesitation. “How does a medic manage to get shot?” The first man asked in a voice you wanted to believe was annoyance, trying not to find a hint of worry from his voice. You didn’t want to imagine a man worried for your life trying to save it. “Guess the bullets couldn’t resist a…a checkup.” You took a quick breath, gritting your teeth as the fabric was pulled off from over the wound. Izzy didn’t say anything to that, perhaps it had been a bad time to joke either way. You didn’t have time to waste, for anything from the bullet could leak to your bloodstream if you kept stalling. “T-take off yer belt-” You had to take a breather before continuing, but that was enough for Izzy to give you a dirty look, which you were glad you couldn’t see properly through the slight blur. “And wrap it a little higher from the wound…” You finished the sentence, trying to stay still on the table. “Gathered that much.” He said, voice still stern as he undid his belt and wrapped it tightly around your thigh. “Get yer knife…and dig..dig the bastard out.” You breathed out, closing your eyes for a moment as you braced yourself for what was about to come. 

The sound of Izzy taking out a knife from his belt opened your eyes once more. You took a weak hold of his wrist before the first mate was able to start the process. “If I lose consciousness after…take the fabric you removed and..and use it to close up the wound after cleaning with rum…” You instructed him before your hand let loose from his wrist. His eyes were on you, you could feel it. Yet, he did not say a word. It worried you, but you didn’t want to tell him that. You wanted to think that he didn’t care. As many times as you had spent time with him, he did not care for you. Maybe, just maybe, he enjoyed talking to you from time to time. 

You took a hold of the edge of the table, which was worth it. Because as soon as Izzy had dug the knife into the wound you screeched. Using the palm of your hand to cover the rest of the horrendous noises leaving you, feeling hot tears push their way through and fall down the sides of your face. The gritting of your teeth helped, somewhat. The feeling of the blade hitting the bullet sent a mix of shivers along with waves of pain through your body.

You tolerated it for a while, in a way proud of yourself for that, this being the first time a bullet was being removed from you. Though, that did not last long.

The dim lights in the lower deck began to seem darker, and your body wasn’t contorting itself the same way as before. In a way you felt more relaxed this way, though the darkness that had started to slowly surround you was something you didn’t look forward to. A faint sound of the bullet hitting the wooden flooring as the knife left your body was the last thing you heard. Your consciousness faded away, leaving Izzy alone with bloodied hands and a mess on the table. 

His gaze shook a little, but he stood still at the table. Thanking whoever had left a bottle of rum in the lower deck. Izzy took a hold of the brown bottle and took a swig from it himself. With a second to think, he poured the liquid from the bottle straight onto the wound. It felt odd not to hear you instruct him, not that he needed it anymore. But you being so silent, seemingly dead to anyone else's eye who might have walked past, it shook him a little. As many people as he had killed and seen dead, none of them had affected him this way. The thoughts of your death filled his mind for a brief second, before the first mate shook them away. He wasn’t sure how much to pour, stopping eventually. He thought you might like the rest of it once you woke up. In his experience, rum was good at numbing feelings. Just what pain was, only a feeling. 

Izzy wrapped the wound best he could, leaving the belt on. You hadn’t told him what to do with it after, and that had only now occurred to him. As much as his duties would have commanded for him to leave you with the rest of the crew, he did not want for you to wake up in the noise and smell that was the crew’s quarters. Was what he told himself, not being able to ask for your opinion. 

He might have not been the tallest man on deck, but that did not mean he was weak in any way. He picked you up easily, carrying you to his quarters. Barely a spot for sleeping fit there, but he managed. 

The first mate laid your still form onto the small bed, seating himself onto a box next to it. His eyes stayed on the bed for some time before a sigh left his lungs, turning his eyes to his hands. He placed them over his face for a while, the burning feeling of tears trying to push through all too familiar at this point. They never truly fell down, so it did not count as crying for him. A pirate didn't cry.

So he sat there, the held-back tears reddening his eyes a little as he leaned on the wall behind him and stared at the other in front of him, keeping his gaze up. He felt conflicted, more so than usual. He hadn’t thought of you, not of how much he seemed to care. Sure, the two of you had spent an odd amount of time together, but you preferred to be alone or at least at the sidelines, so did he. So, for long it had been a coincidence that you bumped in together. And during those times you spent together were almost enough to make him feel alive again. But when you didn’t, was when he truly felt lonely. And so he did now, now when you were unconscious. A sharp breath drawn by you caught his attention back. The end of it started sounding more like a hiss than anything else. Your eyes tried to open slowly, but the sheering pain forced them to snap open with yet another hiss. You curled up on the bed before your eyes landed on Izzy. His mouth was slightly agape, but soon realised to hand you the bottle from earlier which you gladly accepted. After a long swig you handed it back to him, hand shaking ever so slightly. Eyes focusing on him now, vision back to what you remembered as normal. Even with Izzy keeping his gaze quite low, you could see the slight tint of red in his eyes. The first mate hadn’t said anything yet, so you decided to break the silence. “Have you been crying?” Came out rustier than intended, but the teasing tone of voice was still clear somewhere in there. Izzy’s jaw tightened, but he must have backed away from what he wanted to say. “Sod off.” He looked away for a moment, expression much softer after from what you could tell. Though, he seemed stiff. Like he was shaken in a way you’d never seen him before. “Izzy-” You sighed, not sure what to say to him, so instead you thought of something else. His other hand was resting on the edge of the bed. Expecting him to pull away at the very least, you placed your hand on his, but he didn’t. He allowed your slightly warmer, shaky palm to warm his colder hand, badly wiped away blood dried on it. “Thank you.” You said silently, not to disturb the oddly peaceful silence that had formed from the slightest of connections. Izzy turned to you, moving his hand further on the bed, not adding anything to that. The touch was a thank you enough, more than enough to him. 

[emptymasks]

no but izzy crying, the tears in his eyes building as he knows what everyone is saying about ed is true but he doesn't want to break and cry in front of them, but if he did they wouldn't laugh at him anymore because this isn't the same as everyone cackling 'dizzy izzy' and trying to throw him off the ship, this is them and their bonds of friendship and love extending towards him now, they care about him now, and he cares about them now, and if he wants them all to make it out of this alive he's got to kill off the part of him that's blackbeard's loyal little dog, and he's being hugged and his hand is being held and he's letting his hand being held, he's gripping the hand back just thinking about holding izzy's hand, thinking about the crew finding some wood from one of stede's fancy tables and crafting it into a prosthetic for his leg and making him a crutch, making padding from a mast to put on the top to make it more comfortable, later on one of them taking the time to carve out something that resembles a leg and foot, checking on his bandages as the wound heals, helping redress it, just people helping izzy and him finally understanding that it's okay to let people care about you and that it's okay to care about other people and just feeling as though he's got some sort of support system, some sort of family

[lgbtqasacrew]

Could you please do Izzy with pirate reader who loves to draw? (Not like Lucius just drawing landscaped and non naked people lol)

Summary: Izzy has liked reader for a while but doesn’t think you’d ever him like back, reader is an artist who spends a lot of time drawing landscapes and people, and also daydreaming about Izzy Hands. Sharing a moment together, you both realise that maybe your feelings aren’t actually unreciprocated like you first thought.

Relationship: Izzy/gn reader

Word count: 1.8k+

Warnings: none I can think of

You chuckle to yourself as you watch Izzy stomp across the sand barking orders at the other crew members, not that they paid much attention to anything he was saying. The others find him irritating and demanding but you, you see beneath all that, how dedicated he is to his role as first mate, how he’s just trying to keep everyone safe. Although you had been a bit sceptical of him when he’d first joined The Revenge, you’d soon realised that maybe he wasn’t quite as bad as everyone thinks he is.

At first he’d wrongly assumed you were as incompetent as other members of the crew, you had found it quite amusing to prove him wrong. You remember the first time he’d come to check your knots, ready to shout at you about how useless you were and make you do them all again. But when he’d approached and seen how good they were he’d stopped in his tracks, he didn’t say anything to you, he had simply mumbled that at least someone on this ship was halfway competent as he’d walked off to shout at the next person, from him that was a compliment.

When he’d been asked to train the crew in sword fighting, you’d been excited for your turn, to finally give Izzy some competition, and you had. You remember the way his eyebrows had quirked in surprise when you’d got your first hit, the way the rest of the crew had started cheering you on, happy to finally see someone who can match Izzy. But the man didn’t seem annoyed, he actually seemed quite pleased he had someone decent to spar with. The fight had ended in a draw, he had looked at you and muttered “not bad” before walking away. You like to think that you’d earned some of his respect that day. Since then you’ve sparred with the first mate just for fun several times, you enjoyed spending time with him, and deep down you hoped he did too, you suppose he wouldn’t spend time with you if he completely hated it.

You continue to daydream about the man as you continue your sketch, totally unaware that said man is now standing in front of you. He observes you for a while, the way your brow furrows in concentration as you continue your work. He’s not one to give praise but he must admit that you’re pretty talented, not that he understands why you waste your time with this stuff when there’s so many jobs to be done.

He could watch you all day, has done on many an occasion much to his own annoyance. At first he’d wrongly assumed you were like the others, but unlike them you were actually decent at ship work, didn’t complain when he gave you an order, and as reluctant as he was to admit you were pretty amazing with a sword too. He’d come to enjoy your sparring sessions, it was nice to have someone who could match him, although more than once he’d gotten distracted by you and almost lost. There was something mesmerising about the way you hold your sword, your stance, the fluidity in your movements. It was like the grace and beauty you put into your art was constantly pumping through your veins.

The way he feels about you was becoming an issue, so much so that Lucius has started to pick up on his feelings, stupid Spriggs has taken to teasing him about it. Luckily right now he’s too preoccupied with Pete to witness how Izzy’s hopelessly fawning over someone that will never reciprocate his feelings. Realising how much of a creep he must look right now, he clears his throat to alert you to his presence.

You jump slightly at the sudden intrusion which he finds slightly amusing “You’re lucky I wasn’t someone sneaking up to kill you” he grumbles, trying to keep any genuine concern out of his tone.

You know he’s right you had been distracted, in your own little world, but you’re just glad he doesn’t know what you were daydreaming about. “Yeah I s’pose I’m lucky it was just you” you quip back, missing the way blush starts creeping up his neck.

“Right well shouldn’t you be doing something more useful than just sitting around drawing” but he doesn’t use his normal commanding voice he’d used with the rest of the crew, it’s more just to keep up appearance than expecting you to actually do anything. He knows you’re a hard worker and would’ve finished your chores before taking shore leave, unlike Spriggs who had tried to sneak off with Pete before either of them had done their duties.

You quickly confirm his suspicions “I’ve already finished all my chores, so until we set sail again I shall be here drawing if you need me”

He was going to retort about why would he need you but he has to admit that it’s quite nice to know where you’ll be, there’s something comforting about it. “Right then I’ll leave you to it”

He’s about to walk away when you speak up again “why don’t you join me?”

His brow furrows in confusion, why would you want his company, everyone else tries to avoid him as much as possible, with Ed as the exception but even then it’s mostly so he has a soundboard for his stupid ideas. But you seem to genuinely want his company when you could have the company of anyone on the ship, all the crew adore you and would be happy to spend time with you if you asked, but for some reason you’re asking him. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Because we’re on shore leave and you should relax” you know it’s a lost cause, you’re pretty sure Izzy Hands has never been relaxed in his life but if anyone can get him to then maybe it’s you. After all you’re the one that persuaded him to sit in on one of Stede’s storytimes, even if he did grumble the whole time you still took it as a win.

You can’t help but laugh a little at the confusion on his face as if he’s never heard of relaxation before “I’m too busy”

“Doing what, shouting at the crew? All the chores are done now, let them have their fun”

“I need to debrief Ed and Bonnet”

“Good luck with that, they’ve forbidden anyone from interrupting them for the next 48 hours”

Izzy wrinkles his nose at the implication, realising he doesn’t have any other excuses and sitting next to you wouldn’t be the worst thing, he relents. “Fine just five minutes” lowering himself next to you on the sand, leaning against the rocks. “What you drawing?”

“Just the view” you shrug, always feeling a little awkward at showing your work to others, even to those closest to you.

Izzy leans in closer to get a better look and you can’t help but inhale his scent, he smells like the ocean and something herbal, maybe he’s been borrowing Stede’s soaps. “Not bad” he comments, what he really wants to say is that it’s one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen but he can’t say those words aloud, not even for you.

“Thanks” you nearly left it there but you were feeling brave “maybe I could draw you one day?”

He rolls his eyes “No way, Spriggs has already asked me a dozen times, I don’t do things like that”

“Oh no, I don’t draw like him, my models are always fully clothed” you assure him, flipping through your sketchbook to show him a sketch you’d done recently of Frenchie as he had sewed up one of your shirts for you.

Izzy admires all the details that go into your art, the way you brought it to life as if he had really been there. “definitely a lot more tasteful than what Spriggs does” he scoffs.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Can I draw you?”

Izzy huffs “Why would you want to draw me anyway, I’m not much to look at”

You were slightly shocked by his admission, to you he was the hottest pirate on the seven seas, you could see why people would be put off by his grumpy demeanour but you just found it endearing. “I think you’d look beautiful on paper” you were going to stop there but then you saw the red tinge creeping into his cheeks. “I mean right now the way the late sun is illuminating your features, the gentle slope of your nose-“

“Stop it” he grumbles “no need to make fun, I already know how I look, I’m not like Edward”

“I mean Ed’s alright if you’re into that sort of thing” you shrug

“You’re not?”

“Nah I have my eyes on someone else” you couldn't quite believe you were actually saying it out loud.

“Oh” Izzy’s face drops “who?” damn this man really is oblivious, but somehow it just makes him even more endearing to you.

Instead of answering his question you move closer, asking for silent permission to kiss this wonderful man. He nods, eyes closing as you gently hold his face in your hands, closing the gap between the two of you until your lips meet. At first he doesn’t move as if he still can’t quite believe it’s happening, frankly you can’t either, but he soon kisses you back. His lips are softer than you expected, his touch gentle as his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer desperate for more.

You find yourself lost in the moment, everything around you quiets, which is probably bad for a pirate but in that moment you can’t find it in yourself to care. As you pull apart you take a second to look into his eyes, drinking in this shared moment together. After a while he breaks the silence “I- um, that was good” you’d never seen the man so shy, it was sweet.

“Yeah, maybe we could do it again sometime?”

Izzy smiles, it was so precious you immediately want him to do it again. “I’d like that”

As the sun sets, you put your sketchbook down to drink in the view whilst Izzy’s head rests on your shoulder. There’s something so peaceful about this moment together, you hoped there would be many more to come.

[collinrobinsonsglasses]

Too Soft to be a Pirate

Masterlist

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

Summary: A slow burn with Izzy Hands that follows along with the episodes of Our Flag Means Death. I am slowly adding chapters as we speak. There are a lot of interactions with other crew members and the captains. There is so much fluff and pining. I just like to imagine what it would be like to fall in love with Izzy Hands while he's still grappling with his feelings towards Edward.

Chapter 1- Little Mouse

Chapter 2- A Damned Man

Chapter 3- A Gentleman Pirate

Chapter 4- Discomfort in a Married State

Chapter 5: The Best Revenge is Dressing Well 

Chapter 6: The Art of F**ckery

Chapter 7: Drunken Confessions

Chapter 8: Wherever You Go, There You Are

Chapter 9: The Chaos of the Kraken

Chapter 10: Fun and Games

Chapter 11: The Curse of the Seafaring Life

Chapter 12: Ex Marks the Spot

Chapter 13: Calypso's Birthday

Chapter 14: Man on Fire

Chapter 15: Mermen

[stedefxckingbonnet]

PLEASE WRITE BEING IZZY'S LOVER (gn) AND IZZY ACTUALLY SURVIVED BECAUSE IDK THEY EITHER MISSED OR THE LOVER MANAGED TO SAVE HIM OR ANYTHING I JUST NEED TO SAVE THIS MAN 😭🙏

I GOT YOU!!! Here's my little fix-it fic, all! Writing this made me feel a bit better because my god I finally brought myself to watching the finale even after knowing all that happened already and wow I was not okay. But perhaps this fic is me turning poison into positivity in my own way? Yeah. Yeah! I'll leave it at that :) This one is a bit shorter but, it's short and sweet, I thinl!

I didn't really want to recount the battle itself, just more-so the aftermath, so please keep that in mind whilst reading in case it feels like I dove in a bit too suddenly and quickly!

Keep the requests coming, all! I love you all so, so dearly.

Love,

Lavinia

My Favorite | Izzy Hands x Reader

Warnings: light angst (but there's fluff GALORE and it ends happily, i swear!), some strong language, brief mentions of being shot, tending to an injury/mentions of injury (non-graphic descriptions)

Word Count: 1481

In your periphery, you couldn't help but notice Izzy suddenly hunched over, clutching his stomach. Everyone else managed to continue charging forward with their weapons, but you had other plans, and knew that both you and Izzy would be better for it. You rushed over to him without any hesitation, slinging his arm around you gently as you ushered him back to the ship as quickly as you could. His breathing staggered and the sound of it motivated you to move even faster.

You managed to rush him back to your quarters; in case the rest of the crew came stumbling onto The Revenge again, you would be able to focus on the most important mission of your life—helping Izzy Hands survive.

"I'm alright, love," Izzy breathed out, looking up at you as you cleaned the wound and prepared to bandage it.

"Clearly, you aren't," you laughed sadly, fighting back tears as you worked.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he sighed as he spotted you scrambling all over the place, very clearly in a panic about all of this. You so badly wanted to stop right there and scold him. You didn't have to do this? Was he fucking kidding? Of course you had to do this, you wanted to do this. You wanted him to be okay, needed him to be. You wanted to take away the harm brought upon him. You wanted to see him live another day and many, many more. You craved to see him go on to send you another one of his not-so-discreet-anymore smiles that got you through the toughest of times. You don't have to do this? How could he be so foolish? He was by far the most intelligent aboard the ship and yet, he still managed to say such a silly thing.

"Did you hear me?"

"Oh, I heard you," you almost seethed. "And once again, I will be ignoring your request."

"You manage to go and do that so much and yet, you're still my favorite," he weakly shook his head as he looked up at the ceiling and laughed under his breath.

You stopped in your tracks, for just a moment. You figured you could—Izzy was all patched up and all that was left to do was sit with him and make sure the bleeding stops and give him food, water, anything else he needed, and you were beyond happy to do so. You needed to be sure he was okay. But what he had just admitted to you earned quite a bit of a shock from you, a shock you couldn't quite process running all around the room. "I'm your favorite?"

He laughed once again, coughing immediately after and reaching to clutch his abdomen once again. You immediately sat down beside him, not realizing you had started to gently touch his cheek. "Isn't that fucking obvious? Everyone else sure as hell knows it."

You couldn't help but laugh yourself. "I guess? I don't know. You're my favorite too, you know."

"Oh, don't bother lying just because I'm injured," Izzy teased, reaching out to flick you in the arm.

"I'm not lying!" you threw your hands up in a playful surrender. "I mean it, Izzy. You know I do. And I don't want anything happening to you. I don't know what I'd do if you..." and with that, the tears began to spill out. Izzy knew there was no use trying to sit up, but he was able to extend his arm around you.

"I signed up for this," he shrugged.

"As long as I'm around, you are not dying any fucking time soon. Okay? You got that?"

Izzy's lips formed a smirk. "I love it when you get feisty."

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes as you giggled. Though suddenly, your expression hardened, and even Izzy noticed you were about to say something of the serious vein. "You really scared me back there, Iz."

Izzy could only sigh—he knew that none of the words he could muster would be enough to relieve you just yet, or even at all. And what was he supposed to say, anyway? That he was sorry he let himself get shot? Sorry that he didn't immediately seek help? Sorry that you had to see that? That he was so fucking exhausted of the life he's made for himself after all?

You made your way over to the foot of the bed, carefully sitting and stroking his leg. "I'm sorry," you suddenly lamented.

"Why are you sorry?"

"You just really scared me. I didn't want to lose you but I don't want you feeling bad about it either because it wasn't your fault you got hurt," you sighed, averting your eyes from his gaze.

Izzy slowly sat up, rubbing your upper back before gently wrapping his arm around you and resting his head upon your shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere, you know. I promise."

"I know," you exhaled. "I just...I could have lost you, and that thought absolutely haunts me every time we raid or duel or see another ship at all, or even just roam about the Republic of Pirates, but I know this is your life and what you're used to and I would never yank you away from—"

"I don't want any of it anymore," Izzy suddenly admitted. "I'm tired. So fucking tired. And I don't even know how many wounds my body can take anymore."

You laughed sadly, craning your head over to look at him once again. Even after the years of suffering and pain that remained on his face at times, he was the most beautiful sight you had ever seen. And, he was healing as of late—you could see that, everyone could see that. "Well, what are you saying? And no, it isn't obvious—"

"I want to live," Izzy assured you. "But not this life. A different one."

"What would that look like to you?"

"I don't know," he whispered, almost ashamed of this answer.

"It's okay not to know. I'm up for anything as long as you are right there beside me," you reassured him as you planted a gentle kiss upon his forehead.

"Really? You'll stay with me?" Izzy asked in disbelief.

"I love you, Izzy. You. Not because you're Blackbeard's first mate, not because you're a pirate. Because you're you. You're Israel Hands. You are clever and caring and proud and you have so much else to offer this world, away from the sea. Beyond all this."

Izzy lifted his arms up from his sides, wincing as he did so, his hands flying back to his abdomen. You smiled softly as you ever so carefully wrapped your arms around him, making sure not to squeeze so tight. One of your hands made its way up to the back of his head as you gently ran your fingers through his hair. You suddenly heard him whimpering and it brought tears to your own eyes. At last, he spoke. "Fuck you."

You couldn't help but giggle as you sat back up once again.

"I love you," Izzy spoke sincerely, hoping with every part of him that this came across. By now, your face was in his hands, and he looked at you in such a way that truly did confirm his tenderness, his endless adoration that he reserved for you and only you.

You knew exactly the response he was searching for. He knew that you had love for him already—you were never exactly subtle about it. And he never exactly minded it. "I know that, Iz. I promise you."

"Suppose we should say goodbye to everyone?"

"We will. I just want to be here with you right now."

"I wouldn't mind that."

You lay down beside Izzy, draping your arm over his chest as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. He hums happily as you do, and he instantly settles into the warmth you provide. Before you know it, your eyes flutter shut and even in your dreams, Izzy Hands is there and you are together and you are living without fear and judgment, and the only thing you're stressing about is what to make for breakfast that day even though he'll always mumble, "Anything will do, darling." Perhaps whatever life the two of you should lead will come to you in your dreams and you will eagerly share these ideas once you awaken. In this moment, you were just grateful to get to spend the rest of your life with none other than him, and it almost didn't matter what endeavors you embarked on alongside one another from this moment forward. You finished the ditty Izzy was humming before you succumbed to the sweet dreams he wished upon you, and you looked forward to your dreams that were about to come true in just a few hours.

[izzypaawz]

freedom [i won’t let you down] — izzy hands x masc!reader

pairing: izzy hands x amab!masc!reader

word count: 2k

category: smut & fluff

tags: top izzy, bottom reader, established relationship, semi-public fvcking, p in a, creamp1e, slight glove kink, slight emotional hurt comfort, miscommunication, reader is stressed, izzy hands needs a hug, insecure izzy hands, izzy hands is soft for the reader, use of the word c0ck

summary: the crew heard your ‘session’ with izzy, and now you’re stressed because he wants to keep the two of you a secret.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

“Shhh… Shh..”

Izzy’s gloved hand clamps over your mouth, though it does little to muffle the wanton moans that spill out against the supple black leather. He growls against your neck, the short hairs of his beard scratching against the soft flesh of your throat and making you purr with need.

“Shh..” He nuzzles his nose against your cheek and presses a sweet kiss there — a stark contrast to the harsh, needy slap of his hips against yours. “Can’t let anyone hear us, little bird. You know that. Be nice and quiet for me, now…”

You whine into his hand as your body jolts with each forceful thrust. It isn’t often he takes control, but Calypso, when he does; he does.

“I know… I know… It’s just too good, hm?” There is a clear hint of smugness in his tone as his hot breath fans against your ear. Usually you’d want to smack the smug smirk off his face, but now just the sound of pride in his voice makes your tip leak. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Nothing ever does. He swipes a bead of pre onto his glove, making you whimper as you rub your cock against the leather, before he brings it to your mouth and shoves it past your lips. “Have a taste of yourself.”

A choked groan surrounds the clothed digit pushed into your mouth and you swirl your tongue around it. Mostly you just taste the dull leather of the glove, but there is a salty essence to it that makes you throb against your own stomach.

“Good boy,” Izzy grunts, pushing at your lower back with his free hand to make you arch more as he drives into you. His hand leaves your mouth and grabs at your hip, dragging you harder into his every thrust. “That’s it.. Takin’ my cock so well…”

He’s close, and you can tell. He always gets the same way when he’s the one fucking you. His muffled grunts and groans turn into shaky gasps that fall past parted lips, each buck of his hips starts to become sloppy and uncontrolled. Not to mention his hands wander, groping at every bit of skin he can reach like it’s his job.

“F-Fuuck.. Take that cock.. Good boy..” He pants. You smack back into him, meeting him halfway every time he impales you on his length. He always loves it when you do that, and this time is no different as it almost immediately pushes him over the edge. A few stuttering snaps of his hips later, he groans and buries himself all the way inside, his cock twitching as he pulses his come inside you.

His hand immediately slips down to wrap around your length and stroke you fast. His gloved fist gives you an almost unbearable amount of friction that has you coming all over his fingers after a few pumps, like some blushing virgin. Your whimpers turn into satisfied little sighs as he plants gentle kisses on your shoulder, his other hand rubbing soothing circles into your hip.

“Fuck, you’re so good. Feel alright?” He whispers and gives your ass a little smack with the back of his hand.

“Yeah,” You huff out a fond laugh, brushing away the bead of sweat gathering on your brow as you straighten up from where you’re bent over and reluctantly pull him out of you. You groan as his softening cock slides out, your hole clenching desperately around nothing, and watch with a pout as he tucks himself back into his pants. If it was up to you, you’d definitely be going another round right now.

A grateful hum leaves you as he helps you back into your black linen shirt and yanks your leather trousers up around your hips. You can’t help but wince as your aching cock rubs against the fabric, biting back a tiny whimper. “Think Stede knows we’ve been gone?”

“Nah,” Izzy scoffs and shamelessly licks your leftover come from his glove. The sight alone sends another bolt of need straight through you, and it’s a struggle to keep your boots rooted to the floor and not to pounce on him all over again. “Bonnet wouldn’t notice a cannon ball if it wasn’t shoved up his—“

“Now,” You scold playfully and reach over to pinch at his arm. “Be nice.”

“No,” Izzy returns simply, wrapping his fingers around the crook of your elbow and tugging you away from the conveniently set up crescent of barrels.

Trying to get Izzy to be a little nicer to people was proving to be… a challenge, that’s for sure. You’ve managed to get him to be nice to you, at least.

Most of the time.

When the two of you emerge on deck and the blistering sun beats down on your faces, Izzy lets his hand fall from your arm. You fight the urge to complain at the loss of contact, especially when his come is still buried deep in your ass and your head is swimming from your orgasm. All you want right now is to cling to him. But you know why you can’t.

He hasn’t said it outright, but it’s obvious Izzy doesn’t want the crew to know about… Whatever is going on between the two of you.

It makes your heart sting just a little bit, but you manage to put your own desire to be public with your attachment aside, in favour of keeping him in his comfort zone. It’s clear he feels safe in your company, and there’s no way in hell you want to do anything to ruin that.

“Alright?” Wee John throws a knowing smirk in your direction as you step away from Izzy to flop down beside him. “Took a while checking the oranges.”

“Mm. Wanted to be thorough after last time,” You give a halfhearted mumble and roll up the billowing sleeves of your shirt until they rest around your elbows. Huffing out a sigh and fanning yourself with your hand, you grumble, “Hot today, isn’t it?”

“Definitely sounded hot. You’ve got a bit of somethin’ on your mouth, by the way.” Wee John gestures to the general area of his own lips.

“What?” You squeak, choking on your saliva upon hearing the accusatory tone in his voice

Wee John tips his head back and lets out a delighted cackle as his large palm smacks at your back. “Oh, don’t act all coy. We all heard you.”

“All of you?” You manage to get out once you’re finished choking on your spit. You throw a glance around the deck at the rest of your crewmates and, sure enough, they’re all staring. And they all look as if they know exactly what you’ve been up to. “Shit.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. Everyone needs to blow off some steam. But… Izzy the Spewer? Really?” Wee John snorts, judgement ringing clear in his tone.

“Calypso help me,” You mumble and bury your flushed face in your hands, pointedly ignoring the sound of Wee John snickering beside you.

Izzy’s going to be so mad.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

Dinner is about as awkward as you anticipated.

The others sneak little glances at you, thinking they’re being subtle about the way they look you up and down. As soon as you meet their gazes, they suddenly look away and clear their throats. There is a deafening silence draped over the tables, one that you can’t quite take anymore after about ten minutes of it. Muttering a string of curses under your breath, you suddenly stand from the table and abandon your plate, leaving the eating area to head back up on deck.

The walk up the steps seems to take an eternity as guilt eats away at you, tugging at your heartstrings as your mind screams at you; Izzy will be pissed if he finds out that people know. He won’t want you anymore. He’ll leave you.

You make a beeline for the captain’s quarters, where you know Izzy is eating with Ed and Stede — much to his disdain. Your knuckles rap twice against the door in a sharp knock. There is some grumbling and the scrape of a chair against the floor from inside, before Izzy yanks the door open.

“What—“ The venomous spit of a word dies on his tongue when he sees you standing there, and his fierce expression softens. “Oh… I thought you were eatin’ with the others?”

You can’t take it. How are you supposed to make small talk when you feel like you might throw up at any given moment?

“Everyone knows that we fucked,” You blurt out. “And I think they know that we do it often.”

Izzy’s whole body tenses, his shoulders forming a tight line as his jaw goes rigid. “Hm?”

“I’m sorry,” You whisper desperately. “I know you didn’t want anyone to know about us—“

Izzy’s thick brows knit together into a deep frown and he steps out on deck with you, pulling the door to the captain’s quarters shut behind him. “Hey… That isn’t true.”

All you can do in response for a second is frown right back at him. It isn’t true? But he’s been so secretive since your first time together, always creeping around with you and trying to keep you quiet…

“But—“

“I just,” He pauses to puff out a deep sigh and rub his fingertips over his beard. “I don’t wan’ you to be embarrassed. With me.”

“Embarrassed?” You let out a soft breath, your shoulders sagging from their tense line around your jaw. “Why would I be embarrassed?”

“Come on,” Izzy scoffs weakly, his hand moving to scratch at the nape of his neck. “We both know ‘m not the most desirable of partners. The crew’ve probably been takin’ the piss all day. You’re stunnin’, and I’m...”

“Don’t care what the crew think,” You murmur and take a few steps closer to him, until your bodies are almost pressed together. “I love being with you. I think you’re desirable. I think you’re stunning. And only Wee John made fun. Think the others are too scared of being screamed at by you.”

“You like bein’ with me?” Izzy mumbles. He shifts almost uncomfortably and rests his free hand on your cheek, his touch incredibly gentle as the digits brush against your cheekbone. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, Iz,” You whisper and lean into his hand with a content sigh. “I mean it. You’re perfect to me. I couldn’t ask for anyone else to call mine. I don’t think you realise how much I… How much you mean to me.”

A shaky gasp leaves Izzy’s parted lips and he presses closer still, resting his forehead against yours and allowing his eyes to flutter shut. “Shit. You make my heart hurt when you say things like that. Damn you, man.”

“Shut up and kiss me, idiot.”

“Yes, boss,” Izzy huffs and uses his hand on your cheek to pull you closer, letting his lips slide against yours in a tender kiss. You’re no stranger to sweet affection from him, but it still makes you melt every damn time. Especially when you’re already overwhelmed with relief and pure love for him.

The sudden cacophony of wolf whistles and cheers from behind you makes you yelp and almost jump out of your skin. You whirl around to find the whole crew — sans the captains — watching the pair of you with grins on their faces.

“We knew you were boinking!” Frenchie shouts with glee.

Izzy begins to growl, probably about to curse them out and give them week long punishments, but you shush him and brush your fingers over his beard. “Shhh. Just let them have their moment, and they’ll get over it by tomorrow,” You snicker. It’s true, and you can see that knowledge settling in his eyes. The crew don’t exactly have the best attention spans.

“Fine,” Izzy snarls, and he’s swarmed in an instant.

As the crew surround the pair of you, poor Izzy is subjected to a series of questions — who’s on top? how long has it been going on? will Stede marry the two of you? why not? — and he looks ready to chuck himself overboard at any moment. But even amongst the chaos and the barrage of questions being tossed his way, you notice him looking back at you once or twice with a soft look of pure adoration glimmering in his eyes.

And you watch him in return with a matching expression.

This went better than you could have ever expected.

[run-me-through-but-not-like-that]

Early Retirement

Summary: Izzy washes up on a beach after leaving the Revenge and rowing through a storm. Luckily for him, a kindhearted stranger took it upon themselves to take him in and nurse him back to health. Maybe even give him a new home.

Word Count: 6478

It’s cold. Too cold.

It seeped down into his bones and settled there until he couldn’t feel his limbs, he couldn’t feel anything other than that debilitating cold. He forced his eyes open but saw nothing but darkness, the salt stinging them. His lungs burnt in their attempt to suck in air but received nothing but water. 

Then everything just…disappeared.

The amount of time that passed was a mystery to Izzy but when he came back to consciousness, it was warm. It felt like his body had thawed out, limbs heavy but at least he could feel them now.

His heavy eyelids blinked open, the sunlight coming in through a window making him wince. Everything had a slight blur to it but he could make out that he was in a bedroom, one that he definitely didn’t recognise. He was tucked into a bed, pillows cradling his head and plush bedding cocooning his body, his injured foot elevated on a pile of cushions.

The last thing he could remember was…the sea. Fuck. He had left the Revenge after Stede’s return, at least being allowed the dignity to make that decision himself. A freak storm had rolled in when he was half way to reaching land in his rowboat. It ripped his little boat to shreds and the ocean had pulled him beneath the waves. 

He had barely even fought it when it happened. Izzy had always known this would be how he went, at the mercy of the sea, better than the end of a sword. Men like him didn’t get peaceful deaths, he accepted that a long time ago.

Yet, here he was and it was too warm and soft to be Hell.

As his senses returned to him he focused on a smell that wafted up from somewhere else in the house, it was something savoury, something warm and comforting.

He wasn’t alone then. It made sense, of course, but it still put him on edge.

Izzy tried to pull himself up from the bed but it felt like his body was weighed down and his foot throbbed when he tried to move it. With a grunt, he fell back down onto the bed. He could barely move, he’d need a proper plan before he flung himself out of bed.

Before he could try to move again, the door to the bedroom he was cooped up in opened. “You’re awake,” you smiled warmly, “how are you feeling?”

The pale, ragged, looking man in your guest bed was glaring at you. You were sure he would be threatening if he didn’t look like he just crawled out of an ocean grave.

“Where am I?” he questioned accusingly.

“Somewhere safe,” you assured him, ignoring his hostility as you crossed the room.

He hesitated, watching you cautiously. You supposed you couldn’t blame him, he was in a strange place and somewhat incapacitated.

“What happened?”

You sighed. “You washed up on the beach a few days ago. Saw you on a morning walk, thought you were dead by the look of you. Nearly scared the life out of me when you breathed,” you told him honestly.

“Days?” Perhaps his surprise would have been a little more audible if his voice wasn’t so scratchy. His wide eyes conveyed it enough though.

“Your foot is injured but it was wrapped so I assume you know that. You had an infection, have been in and out of consciousness with a fever for the last four days. I’m not surprised you don’t remember any of it,” you informed him.

“So you just happened upon me, dragged me back to your home, and nursed me back to health?” He was suspicious of you and he wasn’t trying to hide it.

“The doctor got some men to help haul you up from the beach and stopped you from dying on us, he left some medication, but then just left me to it.”

“Where are my things?” It was only then, as he shifted on the bed, that he realised he was only wearing his smalls under the blankets.

“For somebody who just avoided death, you are awfully quizzical,” you raised an eyebrow at him. “Everything that survived your little swim is safely stored in another room. I’m generous enough to try to help a stranger but not naive enough to let them have blades on them. I’ll bring you your clothes now that you’re awake and a pair of linen pants, they’ll be easier to get on and more comfortable than those leathers you washed up in.”

“So you know I could be dangerous?” Izzy squinted at you. You know he was dangerous but taking the chance anyway only made him more suspicious. People didn’t just do things out of the kindness of their hearts, especially for people who they thought were dangerous.

“No offence but when a man washes up on the shore, armed to the teeth and clad in black leathers, I don’t assume they’re just a travelling merchant,” you rolled your eyes.

“This happen a lot?” he asked sarcastically. At least he was well enough to give you some snark.

“Nope, you’re my first,” you shrugged, smirking slightly. “So, what do I call you?” you asked.

“None of your business,” Izzy growled, though it came out weak and scratchy.

“Well, you’re in my home but okay,” you rolled your eyes at him, as if he wasn’t a threat. Then again, he supposed he wasn’t much of a threat right now.

Izzy frowned, but his glare remained hard on you. “Who are you?”

“You tell me and I’ll tell you, for now you can just call me…your guardian angel,” you offered, making him scowl. “Anyway, you’re looking a lot brighter than when you washed up. You should be able to keep solid foods down now, so I made some healing stew special for you. Oh, and the bread just came out the oven this morning.”

Before Izzy could question you further, you had waltzed out of the room.

He didn’t have to wait long for you to return though, this time entering the room with a tray balanced on your hip. You walked up to his bedside, placing the tray down on the table beside his bed. 

The tray held a bowl of stew, a couple slices of bread, a mug of herbal tea, and a glass of water. 

Izzy just glared at the tray as you took a step back.

“Look, I’m not holding you hostage. If you want to leave, you can, but have some common sense and stay put for a while. Your foot was inflamed when you showed up, the doctor had to shave down the bone and redo the stitches. You need to rest it if you want it to heal properly,” you chastised him.

The man frowned, looking down at his foot. You saw the pain in his eyes and it made your voice soften. “Doctor said you’ll be able to move around in a couple of days if you use a crutch, then you’ll just have to use a cane. Once it’s healed though, he said it probably won’t affect your movement or balance at all.”

“You sure?” he dared to be hopeful.

“The doctor seems pretty sure. But you have to follow orders if you want it to heal properly. So you can’t go hobbling around looking for your ship just yet.”

He squinted at you, suspicions returning at full force. “What do you know about my ship?”

“Relax. I don’t know anything. I’m just not stupid, I figured you’re a pirate,” you shrugged.

Apparently, that only made him more suspicious of you. “And you still risked taking me in?” You had to have ulterior motives, it’s the only thing that made sense.

“You gonna kill me?”

“No. Not if you don’t give me a reason too.”

“Rob me.”

“No, unless I kill you.”

“...take me hostage and sell me?”

“No…”

Izzy sighed. You were right, he wasn’t a threat right now and even if he was, he had no intentions on hurting you unless you gave him a reason too.

“Then it looks like we’re safe,” you smiled, like you had just sorted some problem out. “Eat, I’ll be back soon to collect your dishes and change your bandages,” you ordered lightly before leaving the room again.

The next time you returned it was to take away his dirty dishes. He had emptied the bowl, having not realised how hungry he had been until he took that first bite. He would probably be able to eat more but knew better than to risk it, too much too soon could have him bringing it all back up.

You had brought some supplies with you to change the bandages on his foot. He had glared at you the whole time, as if expecting you to do something to purposely hurt him. You didn’t though. Instead, you handled his foot and ankle delicately, cleaned the wound as carefully as you could and rebandaged it. Working diligently, only speaking when you were apologising for something you couldn’t help or asking him if the bandages were too tight.

The rest of the day went much like that. He didn’t speak whenever you came into the room to bring him food or take away empty plates, and you didn’t try to engage him in conversation, just polite small talk before leaving again.

-

The next morning, Izzy woke up to you bringing him another tray of food. “Morning,” you greeted him, placing the tray down beside him. “Made you some breakfast, have to keep your strength up.”

Izzy tried to sit up, making himself wince. You moved quickly, helping him shift into a comfortable sitting position. His whole body still ached but the comfortable bed was helping, he couldn’t imagine how he would have felt if he had been recovering on his little cot back on the Revenge.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, sounding like you genuinely wanted to know, weren’t just being polite.

“Like my boat wrecked,” Izzy mumbled, letting you settle the tray over his lap.

“Well, that’s to be expected. You look better than you did yesterday already, that’s a good sign,” you encouraged. “I’ll be around, have some things to tend to, but just shout if you need something.” Izzy only nodded before you were out the door again.

-

The next few days went very much the same but with each passing day, Izzy could feel his strength coming back. He could sit up perfectly fine on his own, had even stood once, only to fall back down when his injured foot touched the floor. He could feel himself recovering, the room was comfortable and the food was good. He supposed he shouldn’t complain but…he was feeling cooped up, trapped, useless.

Izzy lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling when he heard movement outside his window. It was probably nothing of interest but even that was appealing to him right now.

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, bracing his weight against the bedside table as he stood on his uninjured foot. He kept the wounded foot from touching the floor as he hobbled towards the window.

It was morning, you had just taken his breakfast dishes from his room, and the weather outside was bright. He looked out over the garden.

From what he could make out, he was on the second floor of a cottage, no other residences in sight.

From his window, he could see your garden where you were tending to your chickens. Tossing feed out for them. He lent against the window frame to support his weight and just watched.

You wiped your hands on your apron once you were finished tending to your chickens, looking up to see your guest in the window of the guest bedroom.

Izzy felt his face heating up, a shame building in his chest as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. But you just smiled brightly and waved at him, silently noting to yourself to chastise him for moving around without support.

-

Izzy scowled at you from his position, perched on the edge of his bed.

“Here you go,” you presented him with the wooden crutch the doctor had given you for him. “Think you can manage?” you kept your hands out, as if ready to catch him if he fell, as he pulled himself to his feet, letting the crutch take the weight off of his bad foot.

“I’ve used a crutch before,” he grumbled, determined to be able to be properly independent again.

“Just making sure,” you were still watching him closely, hands hovering around him as you moved out of his way.

Rolling his eyes at you, Izzy gave the crutch a test run, using it to walk across the room without grabbing at tables and walls. You just nodded to yourself, satisfied that he was adjusting well to it.

“Listen, now you move around more by yourself but don’t take the piss,” you scolded, surprising him a little. “You still need to rest, to stay off of your foot as much as possible. Okay?”

As much as he wanted to scoff and dismiss you, he could tell you were serious.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Seriously, just accept some help, alright?” you found yourself rolling your eyes at him again, you had lost count of how many times you had done so since this man could hold a conversation again. Still, you found you did it with a little fondness.

-

Now that Izzy had started using his crutch, he could move around your cottage, moving up and down the stairs with your help. He insisted that he didn’t need your help but you wouldn’t let him near the narrow staircase unless you were with him.

At least that meant he could come downstairs and sit in the living room or the kitchen instead of being locked away in his room all alone, he could even go and sit outside and get some fresh air. 

He was currently in the living room, you had left him in front of the fire with a selection of books to choose from, while you finished cleaning up in the kitchen. You had just put the last of the dishes away when you heard hissed cursing coming from the other room.

Tossing the rag down, you rushed into the living room to find Izzy standing, gripping the back of the couch with one hand and clutching his crutch with another. The pain was etched on his face.

“Alright, come on,” you spoke softly, with care, as you hurried to his side. 

You took hold of his arm, listening to him complain as you encouraged him to lean some weight against you. Still, he let you guide him back to the couch and sit him down.

Once he was sitting and you had placed the crutch to the side, you knelt down in front of him and pulled his wounded foot into your lap.

He had knocked it against something when he was walking around and when you unwrapped the bandages you saw that it was a little red but looked perfectly fine otherwise. He hadn’t broken any of the stitches, he wasn’t bleeding, it didn’t look too irritated. Thankfully, he was still on the mend.

“You have to take it easy, be careful and don’t over do it,” you sighed. Something about this man told you that he wasn’t used to sitting idle for long.

“I’m fine. Just knocked it,” he insisted petulantly.

“Yeah, well…just be careful. Once the bandages come off for good and you can put proper weight on your foot again, you’ll be able to get around with just a cane.”

“And then I’ll have outstayed my welcome,” Izzy nodded like he was agreeing with something.

“What? No!” you frowned, sitting back on your heels. “Of course not. You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need.”

Izzy blinked at you, face contorting in confusion. “Why?”

“Because I’m kind and you’ve been a decent guest so far,” you shrugged, like it was truly that simple and that true, standing and brushing off your knees. “Now, sit still for once and I’ll fetch you some tea,” you ordered and, well, Izzy could follow orders, couldn’t he.

You were just about to leave the room, just about to cross the threshold, when he spoke up.

“My name is Izzy.”

You paused in the doorway, taking a moment to make sure you had heard him correctly. You turned back to him with a smile, all soft and sweet in a way that warmed him from the inside out.

“Izzy,” you repeated, testing the word on your tongue. Izzy found that he liked the sound of it and you decided that you liked the feel of it. “I like it.”

Izzy only nodded when you gave him your own name, still smiling as you disappeared back into the kitchen to prepare that tea for the two of you.

That evening, the two of you enjoyed a soothing tea in front of the fire together.

-

“I think it makes you look distinguished,” you complimented as you monitored his movements, smiling at how far he had come since you found him half dead in the sand.

“That’s a generous way of saying old,” Izzy rolled his eyes, adjusting his hold on the handle of his new cane. It wasn’t anything fancy but it was simple and sleek, good enough for him in his opinion.

“Absolutely not,” you tutted. “Anyway, you wear the age well so it still wouldn’t be an insult,” you shrugged.

Izzy looked away from you meaningfully, hoping to play it off as casual. “If you say so.”

“You could get a real nice one with a silver handle or something. Oh! You can get one with a hidden knife in it!”

You could just picture holding a sleek but ornate cane, just simple enough to satisfy him. Looking all distinguished and formal until somebody says the wrong thing, looks at him the wrong away, and he unsheathes his hidden blade.

“Huh…that’s not a bad idea, actually,” Izzy hummed, looking at the cane more approvingly this time. Yeah, maybe he could make this work.

-

Evening tea had become a bit of a routine for the two of you now. Sitting in your cozy living room in front of the fire, blankets over your laps, a cup of tea in your hands, and maybe a book each depending on your mood. It was a pleasant, calming way to end the day.

Izzy kept glancing at you, watching as your eyes followed the lines in your book, lost in the fictional world. He wanted to speak, to get this off of his chest, to take the weight off of your shoulders but…but he found himself worried that saying what he needed to say would take all of this away from him. He liked this, even if it wasn’t a life made for him. He would miss it.

“I’m really able to leave now. I’d find a ship,” he finally managed to speak, to push the words out without faltering.

You paused, lowering your book to look at him. “And I’ve told you, you’re still welcome. I like living out of the way, like the quiet, y’know, but it’s been nice to have you here. You’re interesting and I enjoy your company. Izzy scoffed. “Really, I do,” you insisted.

“Well, you’re probably the only person who does,” he muttered, thumbing at the pages of the book he hadn’t been reading.

“That can’t be true.”

“Apparently, I’m difficult.”

“Okay…yeah, I can see that. But it’s kind of…endearing, you know?” you laughed a little.

Izzy pondered it for a moment, still not really believing it despite how sincere you sounded. “...if you say so.”

“I do,” you didn’t care how many times you needed to reassure him, he needed it and that was all you needed to know. “Anyway, don’t you go worrying about rushing out of here. You can stay as long as you need.”

“You wouldn’t want me here if you knew who I was,” Izzy insisted firmly.

“Well, tell me who you are, Izzy,” you placed your book down, completely forgotten about, so that he could see your full attention was on him. “Tell me, Izzy. It won’t change anything,” you promised.

Izzy sighed, placing his unopened book down as well, refusing to look at you as he spoke. “You can’t promise that.”

“You’ll never know unless you tell me,” you shrugged.

Izzy took a stabling breath but nodded, knowing you were right, that you would probably find out eventually anyway. It would be better if you heard it from him.

“My full name is Israel Hands and you were right about me being a pirate,” he started. For some, that would be enough information.

“...that name is familiar,” you hummed thoughtfully, trying to remember where you heard it. It didn’t sound like a common name and you were certain you didn’t know anyone with the name ‘Hands’, but you had definitely heard the name before somewhere.

“I’m the first mate of Blackbeard,” he added.

For a moment, you could only gape at him. It wasn’t everyday you found out you were housing one of the most infamous pirates of your time.

Izzy waited for the horror or disgust to set in. He knew the stories and tall tales people told, some true and others wildly fabricated. He knew that you had likely heard one or two stories yourself if you recognised his name.

You shook off the surprise but found yourself more confused about how he ended up here. “What is the first mate of Blackbeard doing washing up here with a missing toe?” you asked, not sounding disgusted or afraid of him.

“It’s a long story,” he sighed, figuring you didn’t really want to hear it anyway.

“I have the time.”

Izzy was certain that you were just being polite, perhaps even afraid that if you weren’t he would hurt you in some way, but when he looked at you, you were nothing but genuine. Your eyes held the usual care and sincerity that they usually did when they gazed upon him. Your smile was still soft. Like nothing had changed, and maybe it hadn’t.

So, unable to find a reason not to, Izzy told you everything. You just made yourself so easy to talk to. He started from the very beginning because you wanted to know who he was, not just how he ended up here. 

He told you of a young boy at the docks sneaking onto a ship, of a cabin boy aboard Captain Hornigold’s ship, of a newly made captain and first mate that still had sparks in their eyes. He told you about the creation and rise of Blackbeard, of the fuckeries, the victories, and the losses. He told you about Queen Anne’s Revenge and of all the years they served her well. He told you of men growing bored and restless, of a ship christened The Revenge. Of the landed gentry come pirates. 

He told you a saga of hope and pain that ended in betrayal, desertion, mutilation, reunion, and finally in the enlightenment that had Izzy Hands climbing into a dinghy in the middle of the night. Only two days away from shore. Only one day before a storm that only his previous captain could have predicted.

Izzy told you everything in front of a crackling fire, the warm mug of tea growing cold in his hands. And you listened, like he was somebody worth listening to.

That night, you both fell asleep in the living room. The fire burning out but the blankets draped over you both keeping you warm. For the first time in a long time, neither of you fell asleep alone.

-

When you woke up the next morning to find the other side of the couch empty and the house silent, you worried. Your talk last night went very well, in your opinion. Izzy had opened up and you had listened, had reassured him when he was finished or doubted himself.

You threw off your blanket and jumped to your feet, heading out the front door. You walked around to the rocks that overlooked the beach, finding him sitting there, looking out at the sea.

You relaxed at the sight of him, reassured that he hadn't run away in the middle of the night. You joined him quietly, he didn’t look up but he seemed to welcome your company.

The two of you watched the sun rise over the horizon but you couldn’t help stealing looks at Izzy’s face, he looked so…content. There was a faint longing in his gaze, lost in his thoughts, but he looked happy, the early morning sun illuminating his face.

“Do you miss it?” you asked, staring out at the gentle water with him.

“Sometimes…” Izzy confessed on a soft exhale. “It’s all I’ve ever known, really. It’s strange being on land. The ground is always so still.”

“Yeah, it tends to be,” you joked a little, catching the way the corner of his mouth tugged upwards in the imitation of a smile.

A beat of silence passed. “I understand if you want me to leave now.” Unfortunately, he kept speaking before you could protest. “My foot is healed enough. The worst that can happen now is that I need the cane for the rest of my life, I’m sure I’ll manage just fine.”

This again…you sighed.

“Izzy, I don’t want you to leave.”

“Even when you know who I am?”

“Even then,” you nodded, smiling fondly. “I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not some violent barbarian that people tell stories about. I’ve known you long enough to know you wouldn’t hurt me and that I’m rather fond of you. My home is open to you for as long as you want it to be,” you promised.

“Kindness gets people killed,” Izzy chastised quietly.

“Lucky thing I have the best swordsman in the Caribbean to protect me then, huh?” you teased, knocking your shoulder against his.

“Yeah…real lucky…” Izzy mumbled out at the ocean.

“So you’re staying?” you asked, not hiding the hope in your voice. Izzy just nodded. “Good, I’m glad,” your smile grew.

“At least for the time being,” he shrugged.

“I’ll just have to make the most of it then, won’t I?” You tried not to roll your eyes at his attempt to play coy. Izzy shook his head at you but found himself smiling despite himself.

“Now come inside and get something to eat,” you patted his shoulder.

Izzy let you help him to his feet and hand him his cane without complaint. He even let you take him by the arm and guide him back into the cottage, though he pretended that he didn’t find the whole thing comforting.

-

You walked into Izzy’s room, which you had started calling it instead of ‘the guest room’, and found him shaving in front of the mirror.

“Aw, I was likely the scruffy look,” you pouted playfully.

“It’s a fucking nightmate,” Izzy muttered as he shaved his cheeks clean. Now he could stop scratching at the stubble. You just chuckled fondly at him.

“Want me to trim your hair when you’re done?” you offered. His stubble had grown in almost enough to not be considered stubble anymore and his hair had grown as well, you figured he’d want that trimmed back down if he was so particular about his facial hair.

“I can do it myself.”

“I have no doubt. I usually do my own as well, but a little helping hand would do no harm.”

Moving on to neatening around his goatee, Izzy sighed. “Fine…just…”

“I’ll do it exactly the way you want, don’t worry,” you promised him.

“Fine.”

You sat on the bed while Izzy finished shaving and trimming his goatee until it was perfectly neat. Izzy’s stubble had grown in while he was bed bound, so this was your first time seeing him properly groomed the way he liked. Turns out, you liked it too.

He was huffy about it but allowed you to pick up the shears and comb through his hair. You worked slowly, making sure to speak to him and not take it too short. As you spoke and worked, Izzy seemed to relax, trusting you.

You cut his hair back down to the length he preferred but he still hadn’t slicked it back with pomade like he usually did, hadn’t done so since he woke up in this very bedroom. Instead, it hung loose and soft over his ears. It made him look soft, less intense. He supposed it was more suitable for his current living conditions so he tried not to dwell on it too much.

“There you go. You look lovely,” you complimented, running your fingers through his hair and letting it fall, smiling proudly at your handiwork. Izzy scoffed. “Oh just accept it,” you tutted, “you’re all neat and tidy again, all nice and handsome.”

“Christ,” Izzy complained, glaring at your reflection. “I will maim you.”

“Ah, so there is some pirate left in you. Very nice to see,” you teased. “I’ll leave you to keep grooming yourself.”

You could hear him muttering curses to himself as you left the room, giggling to yourself.

-

Izzy sat at the kitchen island, cane propped up beside him, peeling apples while you worked on making a pastry. “You really need to make a pie?” Izzy questioned, but didn’t slow his work.

“We need to use up the apples somehow or they’re just going to go bad and that would be a waste,” you reminded him. “Anyway, you’ll like it. I make a great apple pie.”

“...you’ll have a high standard to beat,” he warned.

“You’ve made me curious, Izzy,” you looked over at him but he didn’t look like he wanted to talk any further about it, so you didn’t push. “You can tell me another day.”

You continued to make the pie, the fluidity of your actions telling Izzy that you had indeed done this many times. You would give him a task here and there, and he would carry it out diligently. You could imagine him as a first mate, just as diligent on the deck as he was as your sous chef.

Izzy watched you plate up two slices of freshly baked pie. “Here, have a slice while it’s still warm,” you placed a plate in front of him. “Cream?”

“Sure,” Izzy nodded and poured some over his slice before joining him, sitting beside him. Izzy took a spoonful of pie and brought it up to his mouth before pausing and scowling at you. “Stop fucking watching me like that.”

“I want to know if you like it,” you whined.

“Then I’ll tell you,” he huffed.

“No you wouldn’t. You’d mumble ‘yeah, it’s fine’ even if it was the best thing you had ever eaten.”

Izzy fought back his smile, knowing you were right. “I promise to tell you just stop looking at me like that.”

“Fine,” you sighed heavily, dramatically. “If you insist.” No, you weren’t pouting.

But you also didn’t watch him eat, and that was enough to satisfy him. “Okay, yeah…” Izzy sighed after swallowing his second bite. “This is good,” he praised.

“Thank you,” you grinned, bright and proud, before digging into your own slice. 

Izzy just chuckled and shook his head at you, going back to enjoying his pie.

Izzy slows his chewing when a thought dawns on him. This was all so…domestic, the way you moved around each other, shared the space together. He didn’t think he’d ever be sitting in a kitchen of a cute cottage, eating a pie that was made for him by his…fuck, he needed to shake off that thought immediately. 

His what? His carer? The person who took him in when he was on death’s door, who took pity on him.

“We could go for a walk later, maybe even down to town if you feel up to it. Give that cane a proper test run,” you suggested between bites.

“Sure,” he agreed.

“But I swear, if I see a single flinch or hesitation in your steps, we are turning around and coming right back home.” You didn’t come off as a threatening person, you were rarely stern with him, but he knew you were being serious about this.

Maybe he was focusing on the wrong part of your warning but…

Home. 

You talked about it like it was both your home and his home, a home you shared. Like it could be his home. Could this be his home? Fuck.

“Sounds good,” Izzy nodded.

-

Izzy had allowed himself to grow too comfortable, he only realised that when the worries seeped back in. He had grown used to your home, your presence. He didn’t like change, never had, and a lot of things had changed lately but the two of you had developed a bit of a routine that helped calm his nerves. Now it felt like it was all changing again.

You had been acting strange, almost distant towards him. As much as you could do while sharing the same space. He would often catch you losing yourself in through but never voicing them, never letting him in on it when he asked. Something was wrong, he must have done something wrong, it was the only thing that made sense. Maybe you were building up the courage to kick him out and send him on his way, you had realised he was more trouble than he was worth.

“Izzy, can we talk about something?”

This was it, you were going to ask him to leave. He has outstayed his welcome, if he has ever truly been welcome in the first place.

“Sure.” His voice didn’t falter and he was proud of himself for that.

“You told me how you ended up here, about what happened and I was wondering…well, the crew, Blackbeard, aren’t expecting you to return, are they?”

That question threw him off. Oh, maybe you were worried about Blackbeard coming to your shores and causing trouble. “Probably not. They’re probably relieved about it as well,” Izzy answered, honest but a little bitter about it, even he could admit to that.

“And you aren’t going to try to go back?” you asked, though the question wasn’t judgmental in any way.

“Wouldn’t be welcome if I tried, I imagine. But I have contacts, I’d find another ship or something,” he didn’t want to lie to you but he also didn’t want you to keep allowing him to live in your home out of pity or guilt. He would manage, he would survive, he always did.

“…Blackbeard was talking about retiring, right?”

Izzy felt himself sigh before he heard it. “Sure. Guess he managed it too, in his own way I suppose. Didn’t think retirement was a fucking option. Still not sure it is,” he admitted.

You looked nervous again, aimlessly fixing a cushion on the couch you both sat on. “What if this could be your retirement?”

“What do you mean?” Izzy frowned.

You might have huffed and rolled your eyes at him for being dense but you could see his genuine confusion. “Somewhere peaceful and quiet for you to relax. Good weather. Somewhere comfortable by the sea. Sounds like a good retirement spot to me…”

“I…what are you saying?”

You had to fight the temptation to reach out for him. “I’m saying that maybe you deserve to have a retirement too. Some…some good days without constant worry and fear. Maybe you deserve it and have earnt it just as much as Blackbeard,” you gave into the need, reaching out and placing your hand over his, “and I’m asking if you could have that here, I’m asking if you would stay.”

“You want me to stay…for good?” His face was scrunched up like he was trying to figure out some complicated puzzle. Like he didn’t believe that you could just want him to stay here with you.

“I do,” you nodded like it was as simple as that, because it was. “I’ve lived out here for a long time. Never felt lonely despite the distance I am from town. I think I would be lonely if you left. Think I would miss you. No, I know I would.”

“I don’t need charity,” Izzy growled, pulling his hand away from yours.

It made you ache but you didn’t fight him, didn’t try to touch him again, giving him the space he needed. “I’m not doing you a favour. I just want you here, Izzy. If you want to go, I’ll support you and do whatever I can to help, of course, but I want you to stay.”

Izzy couldn’t argue with you, apparently. He didn’t snap or accuse you of lying, he paused and considered it. Why would you lie? What would you be getting out of this if you were lying?

“…why?”

There was so much you could say, so much you had yet to put into words. But one of the many things you had learnt about Izzy during your time together was that actions spoke louder than words, the care you had shown him had earnt his trust more than anything you had said.

You acted before you could talk yourself out of it.

You shifted closer to him on the couch, placing a hand against his shoulder when you lent in. The kiss you pressed to his lips was short and tender, just enough to express the way you felt.

When you pulled back, hand still on his shoulder, he was just looking at you. The lines on his face softened and lips slightly parted as he blinked at you.

“Will you stay with me, Izzy?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Izzy nodded, looking a little stunned but the answer felt right. “Yeah, yes, I will. I want to stay as well.”

You smiled adoringly, lifting your hand from his shoulder to stroke his cheek.

Izzy had woken up in your home thinking he had died out at sea but he knew there was no way that was the case because this couldn’t be his afterlife. He hadn’t done enough good to earn this, you were just giving him this out of the kindness of your heart.

He didn’t know what he did to deserve it, didn’t think he did deserve it, but he was here anyway. Maybe you were right, maybe this could be the next, maybe even the last, phase of his life. He would do whatever he could to earn it now, to earn you and this home.

[izzyhandswhore]

hear me out : reader giving izzy a massage (non-sexual) because reader sees how tense he is :’)

((I know I said fluff.... But Season 2 has given me brainrot so here we go)) Giving Izzy a (non-sexual) massage

Season 1

Izzy spots the way you've been looking at him all day before the word 'massage' can even leave your mouth. You're looking at him like you're sizing him up and he's looking right back at you with suspicion and confusion until he finally breaks and confronts you with a gruff, "what??"

You point out that he looks tense and he just scoffs at you and shrugs and tells you he's fine, but he can't quite meet your eye and doesn't sound all that convincing. If you press him further he'll say something along the lines of "is it any fucking wonder with this lot? Fucks sake.."

He'll just shrug off your first few attempts to get to his shoulders, bat you away and tell you to fuck off. Even if you do get him to stay still long enough to hold him and massage his shoulders a little, he'll try to keep his grumpy face and just tell you it's pointless, he doesn't feel a difference.. But the way his muscles ease can't lie... Neither can that tiny, embarrassing groan that escapes him before he turns bright red, shrugs you off and stalks away to go bark orders at some poor soul.

For the rest of the day you see him rolling his shoulders and tilting his head like he's trying to crack his neck, all while giving you little sideways glances. Try not to look too smug, you've got him. When you two are back safe and alone in your cabin, he “casually” asks about that thing you did earlier and could you.. do it again maybe?

You’ve got your work cut out for you. The man is basically all knots and stiffness. You start with him perched on the edge of the bed while you kneel behind him and work at his neck and shoulders, all while he’s groaning with relief and leaning gently into your touch. It ends with him lying face down practically naked as you work his whole back.

He is not quiet. He’s constantly giving breathy instructions and moaning and praising you.. It’s no wonder you get funny looks and teasing whispers from the rest of the crew the next day. You don’t care, you’re just happy Izzy is happy and finally got a really good nights sleep. You make him feel so safe and relaxed he’s snoring before you can even finish the massage,.

Season Two

Blackbeard soon puts a stop to you and Izzy sleeping in the same cabin. He claims you’re “a distraction” to Izzy and reminds you constantly how lucky you are to be alive since you’re nothing but Izzy’s little pet. To keep you safe, Izzy starts distancing himself too. You’re forced to watch from the sidelines as Izzy’s health declines.

When Blackbeard cuts the second toe off, you no longer care what’ll happen to you. In the dead of night you creep into Izzy’s cabin. He near jumps out of his skin, scrambling back and drawing weapons from under his pillow as you approach. He doesn’t relax even after he realises it’s just you.

In hushed, desperate whispers he tries to get you to leave. He acts like he’s angry with you for invading his space, for disobeying orders, for assuming he even wants you here. Eventually, with tears in his eyes he hisses, “it’s not safe!”

Silence falls over the room. You know he’s just trying to protect you with the whole “evil first mate” act. He knows you see right through him. Just like before he sits on the edge of the bed, defeated. You quietly crawl behind him and press a kiss to his bare shoulder before starting on the knots there.

He doesn’t lean into your touch this time, he flinches. He doesn’t say a word or make any noise of pleasure. The only sounds in the room are muffled grunts as he presses his lips tight together or tiny gasps when you come across a particularly sore spot. Any other noises outside the cabin also snap him to attention and make him tense all over again.

It’s a long and difficult process but eventually you feel him start to relax and nod off a little. You carefully coax him into bed and hold his hand for a bit as he drifts off. When you think he’s asleep you get up to leave and he squeezes your hand tight and looks up at you with tired, teary eyes. There’s so much he wants to say but he doesn’t have the strength to say it so he settles for,

“Thank you, love.. I..”

You smile, shake your head, squeeze his hand and assure him,

“I know.”

[bowieandqueen11]

Not Just A Trinket / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: hi! ur writing is EVERYTHING btw. ur an amazing writer. you mentioned you wanted to write for izzy hands again and i have a request– feel free to ignore if it's not what ur looking for :) maybe izzy hands x reader where the reader has a small gift for him (a little trinket, a beaded crystal bracelet– something they made for him) but they're WAY too anxious to give it to him because they're scared he won't like it so they end up just carrying it around, trying to build up the courage to give it to him pfft

AHHH thank you so much my lovely, that's so sweet of you, and so is this idea!!! :3 Also I know I'm a little early in the timeline mentioning Davy Jones but I like to think of Izzy as a trendsetter ;)

Warning: mentions of fighting/ injury and strong language, some sexual innuendo!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @nadsdraws.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Izzy Hands was beginning to detest feeling like this.

He would rather charge sword first at a horde of raging Englishmen: would prefer to scrabble and scrape and scratch through the eye sockets of thousands of the Spanish with naught but his bloodied fingernails. Hell, even grovelling under the sole of the snivelling wreck that now possessed his former boss like a twisted nightmare, a horrid regret, would be preferable. If his hand wasn't too firmly attached to tangled rope of one of the shrouds in a death grip, if his glove wasn't close to bursting at the seams with how tightly he was gripping, he had half a mind to draw his dagger out of its scabbard and gouge his heart out right there and then.

He looked furious. So much so, that Roach was quick to side step him as he hopped down the steps with fresh sewing materials in his hand, giving a final look back at the intent man who only bared his teeth at the cook in response. Valuing his life, or at least the ability to keep all his fingers, if the sight of the keen blade being twisted between Izzy's free fingers told him anything, Roach is quick to recoil back and raise a concerned eyebrow in Wee John's direction. He in turn just rolls his eyes and lowers his head back to his sewing, but the rest of Stede's crew are astute enough, from where they're lingering around the deck, to notice the thick tension brewing like cold shivers of electricity in the air. Even Jim and Oluwande were giving each other side eyes, pausing their hammering at the helm to dart their eyes to their side and trace the path of Izzy's line of sight.

It never wavered. Every time they looked, it never changed. He had spent the last two hours gaping sourly towards the edge of the quarter deck. Gawking solely at you, without a single movement, without a single flicker outside the bubble where you hunched.

You thought he was angry at you for arranging a special outing for Ed and Stede at Datura Grotto, finally indulging in finding a way for them to spend some time alone after your Captain had begged and hounded you for days; he had become so accustomed to bursting through doors trying to find you and ask for your help, that the poor daunted man nearly burst into tears when he smashed your bedroom door into your nose and nearly broke it. The rest of the crew believed he was plotting something: trying to pick out the quieter members of their friends first, as payback for being stuck on this so called 'straight out of Davy Jones' arsehole' of a ship for so long.

Izzy, though. Izzy knew he was smitten. And he fucking hated it. He hated feeling so vulnerable.

Out of all the crew members still pretending to mill about, only Lucius was daring enough to purse his lips and look brazenly back at Blackbeard's first mate. Only Lucius, in fact, was feeling equally brave, and equally vexatious that fine afternoon to muster up the courage to slide up beside him. 'Someone in a bad mood today, are we?'. He taps the ships railing with the point of his nail, the broom he had been pretending to sweep splintered pieces off the floor a moment ago soon forgotten about as he leans it against the side of the ship. He replaces the loss by dropping his hand to his hip, cocking his head and smiling at an increasingly agitated looking Izzy. 'Would it have anything to do with that fine young sea farer over there by any chance? How romantic, Dizzy Izzy. Oh, I do love a good fix-me-up-'

Oh, he was enjoying this.

Izzy's quick to snap, not even bothering to look in Lucius' direction. 'Fuck off, before I do you a favour and cut that little seducing tongue out of your mouth for you.' Lucius watches Izzy's fingers tighten into leather clad black balls on the rope ladder, and doesn't need a second warning to trot off back towards his friends again. With a final wide eyed look of shock, he turns back to Black Pete and shrugs, holding his hands up as if to say that he tried his best.

All the while, you just keep your gaze steady out and onto the brewing horizon of the sea, watching as foam shook out like reaching hands around your ankles as they across cut through the wave crests, only the salty sting of thrumming silence keeping you company underneath his watchful gaze. The beaded necklace you had spent the last week or so threading together, carefully crafted by trembling fingers and a bit tongue during long evenings spent in your hammock, was beginning to feel like an anchor weight in your pocket. You tried to distract yourself with mundane, idle chit chat with a very thankful Lucius, who had swung over to your side after Pete convinced him to go scouting out for some more gossip. Swinging his legs between the latches of the port quarter, he merrily took the hammer you were idly holding from your hand and began to 'fix up the ship', his wrist barely moving as he turned to you with a scheming smile.

'So, do you know what's going on then? Why Izzy's acting like this? I swear, that man. If he doesn't bend over right now and try to get that stick out of his arse, he's going to be a miserable sad sack of repressed irritation forever. He's like a jack in the box. I swear to god, I'm just waiting for him to burst.' The tone of his voice sounds almost worried, but Lucius is smiling and waggling his eyebrows the whole while. 'That would be kind of funny, actually. I've always imagined him as a stamper. Or maybe a screamer-'

You have no idea what to say, not understanding Lucius' oh so unsubtle hints, so you just run your fingers over the bulge in your pocket once more and chime in to his rant from time to time with a disinterested 'hmm' or distracted 'oh, yeah. Definitely.' It really didn't help that you were beginning to blush the same champagne hue as the bubbles between your toes with how gravely Izzy was staring at the side of your face. It was growing increasingly harder not to give into the temptation: to not just swing your head around and meet his hard-set eyes head on.

Once he realises you're dead set on staying right there, away from him, hiding in the corner all day, he sighs and let's go of the sails, marching off to do another impromptu inspection of the boarded vessel. It's an easy distraction: yelling orders at Wee John, spitting insults at Roach as he scurries out of Izzy's way, stealing the Swede's cup out of his hand and spraying beads of coffee around Buttons' feet. All of it was a Grade A fantastic distraction, and Izzy was hell bent on forgetting just how quickly time had gone by that day: Ed and the moronic, sappy, massive twat of an arse Stede would be back from their foliage constitutional any minute now, and Izzy was acutely aware that he was running out of both minutes, and chances to ask you to take a walk with him on the island himself. He had spent far too much of the morning wasting away, leaning his back on Stede's antique armoire and watching you with crossed arms: like a weathered statue, the growing umbra he cast somehow seeming to reach its tendrils out and blanch the fringes of the doorway. Even Fang and Ivan had been too terrified to come near him, and so he had been left alone. A silent sentinel, trying to figure out why the fuck his heart was cracking against the cage of his ribs and tearing their ligaments to shreds.

You hadn't exactly made things any easier for the man: feeling so intimated, you had spent the whole morning begging your friends to whisk you away from him at the first sign of danger. Whether that meant ducking behind Frenchie's lute like a crab, or hiding like a bulky turtle under the large bit of crimson cloth Oluwande was fiddling with the tassels of, you had used any form of escape to save you from the embarrassment of having to be near him. To let him see how flustered you became just at the overwhelmingly intense pressure you felt in the air any time he swaggered over to your side: to hide the fact that your eyes would widen in abject horror, your breath hitching any time the back of his gloved hand would 'accidentally' brush against your wrist as he went on his merry way, pretending it was all by accident. That it was all just a little game to him.

Little did you know, that he was feeling exactly the same way. The one time he had dared to come over to you that day had been an unmitigated disaster. He thought he was being... well, as kind as he possibly could be by slapping you on the shoulder and saying 'how good of a job you're doing.' He was nodding his head between every word, that jilted, simpering smile on his face as he supplemented his sentiment with an incredibly heartfelt 'at least Y/n knows how to do a fucking thing on this ship, not like you lot of useless fucking fuckers they have to work with. The rest of you are embarrassing, really.' He went to walk away, the side of his wrist glancing against the back of your hand as he finished with a breathless 'you lot could learn a thing or two from Y/n.'

He had staggered away from you as if mortally wounded, tongue bitten between his teeth as he tried as nonchalantly as possible to make his way back to the stern of the ship. While you were busy trying to bury your head down into your chest and avoid the smirking faces of Lucius and Pete, you happened to notice from the side of your eye that with each step Izzy was ringing out his hand. To your surprise, he used his teeth to rip his glove off, tucking it under his armpit as he wrangled with his fingers; he couldn't stop every cell burning as if it had just been reeled under the bottom of the ship. Couldn't understand why his fingertips wouldn't stop shaking as he flexed them.

Lucius was right. He was about to erupt, and he wondered if he'd ever be alright again.

It took until the sun nearly bowing over the jaded unicorn surmounting the anterior of the Revenge for you to find the courage to finally slink away from your convenient hiding spot to go over to Izzy. Well, that and the feel of Lucius literally dragging you up by the wrist and giving you a well meaning shove in the back towards the helm.

'Oh, fuck me', Izzy hisses as he watches you approach, turning his back to you to hide how flustered he was becoming with each tugging step at his heart you take towards him. He nearly jumps high enough to fall face first off the side of the boat when he feels your hand tentatively tap his shoulder, but he manages to inhale sharply and compose himself as best as he can before he flicks his eyes to look at you.

'I-uh-', you swallow thickly, shakily drawing your hand away from him and tucking it behind your back. 'I-, uh. I, I mean, I-'. The two of you, a far change of pace from usual, can barely keep your eyes on each other.

You feel like throwing your shoe at Lucius when you register the all too familiar sing song-y chime of his voice murmuring 'say something!' from behind your back. 'Or I swear to god, I'll kiss the man for you!'

'Well, I-', you start again, shooting the most vicious glare you could strangle out of you back at your friend. With a final sigh, you continue: 'I saw your necklace, and I don't mean to pry- but since you're always wearing black, which of course is incredibly cool, I just- well, I thought it needed a burst of colour.' Without a second thought, you scramble to pull your makeshift necklace out of your trousers, and shove the glistening glass emeralds and burnished pearls into his fist.

'It's just a silly thing, really. I saw Stede fixing Ed's red fabric and I just thought... well, you don't have to wear it. It's just a trinket, it's stupid. Really, you don't have to wear it. I'm sorry-'. After a pause, the burning sensation is enough to make you turn on your heel and bashfully start to make a break for the Rec Centre, just to get as far away from him as possible.

'It's not just a trinket.' The softness of his tone, despite how harshly he sounds out the letters makes you swivel back in surprise. He takes the opportunity to take a step forward and grab onto your wrist. He tugs you closer, until you're standing dangerously close to him: if he were to inhale deeply now, to puff his chest out just a tenth of an inch, your belly buttons would be tightly pressed upon each other. You can already feel his buttons strain against your shirt as he whistles out through bunched teeth, the breath sharp and warm against the side of your jaw. 'Don't say that. Never say that. It came from you, so it's not-... just, don't say that.'

He blinks, slowly releasing his viper grip.

'I like it. I really do. Thank you.' He motions awkwardly with a flick of his fingers to the side of his neck. 'Would you mind? With the gloves, I'm... not very good with clasps. Haven't, haven't used one in a long time.'

You can't stop your head from nodding, feeling like a wound up spring toy as you unfurled his fingers again and took the gift back. With a final swallow, you try not to turn cerise as you gently roll down the collar of his shirt. It folds easily down over his vest, until your bare fingers are dragging over the naked line of skin on his neck, just teasingly hiding the tense muscles of his upper back.

'You really didn't have to do this for me, you know.'

'Yeah... but I wanted to. You're not as much of an arsehole as Stede tries to make out.' You manage out a giggle, before you're back to biting your bottom lip in concentration, brushing a few strands away from the back of his head.

He wants to say more, but his voice chokes in the back of his throat like rifting water, his mouth trembling as your fingers brush over the coiled grey hairs bristling at the nape of his neck. It feels like a red hot poker is being dragged across his skin; he shivers at the feeling, a tight coil rolling across his limbs before settling uncomfortably heavy in the pit of his stomach.

He looks like he's about to weep when you take a step back, reaching up with a final pat to make sure the little metal swallow that adorns the centre of your necklace is lying perfectly against his breast. You may have lingered there a little longer than necessary... long enough for your palm to begin burning against the firm muscle of his pec, and for Lucius to draw out an enunciated wolf whistle, but it was definitely worth it. Even the sound of Frenchie snickering from the barrel he was perched on down on the deck was drowned out by the thrumming toll in your ears: by the sound of Izzy's sharp breath piercing your ear as he wavered uneasily on the spot. He didn't want to move away from you, not yet. He could barely even hear them. For the first time in his life, he didn't even fucking care. All he could focus on, over the bridge of his nose - through the gentle curls of his tired eyelashes, was you.

He was intoxicated - but even worse, he was finally beginning to understand. By god, he wondered. What the fuck had you done to him? Could this really be what Edward feels? Could anyone, really, feel this much?

'I hear swallows are meant to bring good luck', you state with bated breath, fingering the charm you had picked up from a market stall at the Republic of Pirates for a final time. It had reminded you almost immediately of Izzy: a hidden treasure, glistening white-gold, like fresh sunlight flitting across the glitter combs littered across the sea beds. It had been well buried within piles of muck: old straw, rotten bits of moulding fruit, bloodied bones twisted into odd shapes that you could barely recognise, but it had been lying there. Waiting just for you. A needle in the haystack. The final piece of the puzzle.

Izzy's breath draws in sharply as you absentmindedly begin to brush your pointer finger up and up: tracing the edge of his jaw line before rolling over the same bird tattoo lacing his neck, your eyes still drawn to the gap between his shirt where his Adam's apple lay tautly.

'Yes. Very good luck', he states, amazed he even found his voice. Surprisingly, he doesn't even try to pull away. He lets you trace your finger over the beak, gliding across the round belly until they're dancing teasingly over its tail. In fact, without his wonderous, dipped eyes looking away from you, he seems to be tilting his head in time, allowing you easier access to brush against his skin and steal his soul with every movement.

Before he has time to think of the repercussions of what he was about to do, the leather of his gloves flex around your cheeks and Izzy Hands has bowed his back down over you, lips knocking against yours. It's terse, and rather urgent in its forcefulness; it was both a slip of outrageous passion, and a terse reminder of his years out of practice feeling any sort of physical affection, and yet you couldn't help but brush up even closer to the man. He welcomes you eagerly, even though this eternity lasted only a moment: with his thumb, he tilts the jut of your chin up so he can lick his tongue against your bottom lip all the more easily. His knee slides forward until it knocks against your own, lurching you forward and saving him the embarrassment of having to voluntarily admit to his weakness and slide his other hand around the pulse point of your neck, until he was cradling the bone of your shoulder.

He finally draws back, his tongue darting out to lick along the edge of his top lip. 'Yeah, very lucky indeed.' He seems sorrowful to be letting go of you, but the loud whistling and snorting that begins to bounce back and forth between Stede's crew snaps Izzy back to himself. With a final glance back down to your lips, he struts off to pick up Lucius' long abandoned broom and starts chasing him across the ship with it.

[caitlinsnicket]

izzy hands sfw headcanons part 2

a/n: part 1 here. part 3 here HAHAHAHA im going lulu (also if you see any mistakes feel free to tell me so

after the loss of his leg, sometimes he might pretend to forget his cane just so he has to lean on you for support. truth is, he hid it under his bed so you would have a harder time finding it and he could spend more time with your arms around him

speaking of leaning, he leans a lot to get a look at you from a lower perspective (not that it's hard, he's not very tall), he leans on your body, on your arms and on your shoulders because he likes your warmth and loves to feel you near him

holds your hand to move around as well, displaying it proudly to the crew and puffing his chest out like a peacock so they know you're together

also tends to get very flushed if you lean on him and hold his hand, looking around expecting a joke, until you distract him with kisses on his cheek

lives for moments where you need comfort. it's not that he likes it when you're feeling bad, but he likes to feel needed for emotional suport, like he's good enough to make you feel better

he loves to feel useful when it comes to you, and so he learns to anticipate your needs and wants. he leaves something light for you to eat on a table on his cabin beside a cup of water, when on land always buys you new clothing pieces that he knows you might need, gets extra blankets in the middle of the night because he knows you might get cold, all that cheesy stuff

he's a romantic at heart

he is very particular about his hair, and has learned how to keep it tidy and practical for his day to day like. however, if you ever ask him to run your hands through it in the middle of the day or to style it in a different way, he'll move like lightning to sit on the ground, head at your hand's level so you can do as you please

his 'disheveled hair' look is probably his hottest too, strands framing his face beautifully, making him look disgruntled and mysterious at the same time. your fingers ache to touch it whenever he's like that

after a while he starts wearing his hair loose (without gel or pomade) more often while on the job, relaxing more and more with his own image

(he still loves his puffy fancy hair though

it's also the softest hair ever. you don't mention it when you notice the many hair care products hidden behind his bathtub, or the different things he uses to keep his hair in place, just as he won't mention it when he notices that you started using them too to smell like him

his favorite thing to do is having his hair taken care of by you. just mark him as yours in as many ways as you can

the curls on the nape of his neck are so endearing and charming it's hard for you to pay attention on anything he's saying. if he notices, he swears at you and walks off, fighting a goofy smile

one day, he decides he's gonna cut his hair short. you are supportive about it, obviously, even if a part of you is dying inside. so he goes out, cuts it and comes back with a glint on his eyes that is so obvious and endearing, as if he's begging you to praise him and call him pretty

and he just looks so nice and tidy and hot (so fucking hot) that you can't help but spend the next hour or so messing with his hair until his legs are wobbly and his mouth is hanging open

his hair ends up being spiked up very often, which makes him look younger and more relaxed. it brings warmth to your heart, and a shy smile to his lips

taking care of him is a tricky job, reserved to you (and fang) on the rare occasions he's too sick to fight back. still, he whines and struggles and cusses the both of you out until he gets too tired to complain anymore and just allows it to happen

feels extremely embarassed and self conscious whenever you feed him soup, but secretely he's vibrating with joy from your attention and care. he can't help but notice how much love is present from your touches and actions, and it makes him feel almost worthy of it

his favorite foods are the ones you cook for him when he's sick. you manage to put so much flavor and affection in it those that sometimes he yearns for a cold or a headache just so you'll cooks him something without him having to ask

he doesn't notice how much better you treat him in comparison to past lovers until jim or fang mention it to him, and he starts watching the things you do for him

it's the little things for him, like the way you neatly fold his clothes after he takes them off, the way there's always a cup of water on the side of his bed in the morning, or how sometimes you'll just remember things that he's mentioned in passing once and buy him a related trinket when you're both on land

he's over the moon and proud of having earned your affections, and will even grin in that manic way that sometimes gets to him

[dragon-kazansky]

You: *banging a pen on the table out of frustration*

Izzy: Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table?

You: I—

You: I don’t know the correct answer to that question.

[maximwtf]

Izzy Hands x reader fanfic where the reader courts him by sending anonymous love letters.

Izzy Hands x Reader

words: 2760

google docs pages: 4,5

warnings: Oddly enough for something I’ve written, none! Is this lowkey corny though? Yes, maybe that needs a warning of its own. 

opening: Your desperate earlier attempts at courting the first mate of Blackbeard’s had gone unnoticed, so you resort to writing love letters. Maybe he’d realise if it was laid flat in front of his eyes. 

AN// Reader can be any gender! It’s been a good while since I’ve written anything fluff-like, so apologies if that affected the quality of this :”D! Requests are still open <3! (please someone request something sword-fight related, or I’ll have to think of something myself)

 “Not worth your time”

How many attempts would it take for him to realise what you were trying to say? How did he not notice even when you thought you couldn’t get any more obvious? Or was he just on purpose ignoring you? Were thoughts that had been on your mind for a long time now.

Izzy Hands, the first mate of Blackbeard's, was either too focused on his work and just didn’t realise or was ignoring your confessions on purpose. Of which you hoped wasn't the latter. For the past few weeks you had tried almost everything you could have thought of, not counting in just telling him how you felt. The only reason why that card hadn’t been used yet was because you didn’t know if he cared for you in the same way. You wouldn’t be able to bear the heartbreak of confessing to him and being rejected would cause. Not to even mention having to be on the same ship with him after, you’d rather take a jolly boat and leave at that point. So you had resorted to hinting your feelings for him through actions, which had proven to be unsuccessful. 

As long as you’d known the man, he had never been too good at expressing his feelings. If he was upset, he might have said something about it to you and then disappear for a moment to resolve whatever was going on in his mind. Never had you seen him cry, but you expected he was just the kind of person to cry whenever he was alone. But even when he was happy, he’d show it through very small actions, sometimes not even his expression changing. You weren’t even sure if the man had ever been in love. Maybe he just didn’t know how to express that either? Or perhaps that was you hoping the earlier attempts of getting him to realise how you felt hadn’t been for nothing. 

Either way, it was clear you’d chosen a man who was harder to read than a map drawn by a toddler. He hadn’t and seemingly wasn’t going to notice you flirting with him, but maybe something else would work. Flirting had never been your strong suit anyway, you’d always been much more skilled with written down words. It was easier to think of what to say and carefully choose the right words, which you couldn’t do while spending time with the first mate. And perhaps you could blame yourself even for the bad success, knowing your flirting and how it usually played out. So your plan was clear. To start writing anonymous love letters to him, and slowly make it as obvious as possible. 

To be quite honest, you weren’t so sure if the man even knew how to read. Though, surely for one to become a first mate they had to know how to read, right? Or maybe that was just your last hope speaking. You’d seen first mates get chosen and there wasn’t a job application that came first. The person who was thought out to be the most experienced with piracy was chosen ultimately over the skill of literacy. Though, Stede appreciated the skill understandably more than the seadogs you’d sailed with for most of the time. 

Literacy had been the reason why you and Lucius started talking as well. You’d started to take turns writing notes for Stede after you had gained his trust. Due to this new formed relationship with the man, you would sometimes talk to him about Izzy. From what you collected, Lucius wasn’t the biggest fan of him, understandably. But Lucius hadn’t been against you trying to court the man either, he’d even encouraged you to write the letters. Perhaps he was hoping you’d succeed and manage to change Izzy for the better somehow. But that was thinking too far ahead. 

Firstly you had to figure out what to write in the first letter. It ended up not being anything too obvious, but you made sure to put an emphasis on the parts where you mentioned admiring his seamanship skills. Not leaving a signature or anything that could retrace the letter back to you, you folded it nicely and sneaked it to his quarters by sliding it under his door. It was only at that point that you truly realised how silly this was for an adult to do. Though, you forgave yourself for the sake of this being the last trick you had up your sleeve. 

The evening passed quickly, night cooling down the air and bringing a slight fog with it to hug the vessel sailing across the water gently. You’d taken the lookout shift for tonight, knowing you wouldn't have been able to sleep. It also gave you time to write the second letter, knowing there was almost never any activity on the sea in a weather like this. It was going to be a calm night.

You sat down in the crowsnest, leaning over slightly as your pencil danced on the small piece of paper. The contents of the letter may have been more flirty than intended because of your sleep deprived mind, but you scrapped none of it. Letting your thoughts run as they pleased, the second letter was finished with a small heart as a signature at the bottom. You folded it nicely like the first letter, using a drop of wax from the candle you had up in the crowsnest to seal the paper. 

The sky began to change colour when the sun decided to make its return. You climbed down, back on the main deck. You’d walk by Izzy’s door before going to sleep and slip the letter under his door like before. Most of the crew was still asleep, it only being the very early hours of the morning. Pure luck for you, since no one would notice you sneaking around like this. 

Izzy was one to wake up rather early, so you didn’t dare to make any noise. At times it felt like you were holding your breath just in case that would alert him, though thinking about it after, it sounded silly. But nevertheless, you’d gotten the letter delivered and made an escape for it. All the way to one of the free hammocks where you got comfy and fell asleep rather quickly. 

After that you took a break from writing the letters. Not a long one, but you had to think the third letter through more thoroughly. You’d sat down with Lucius, and chatted with him about it. As far as Izzy knew, the two of you were the only ones who could write and practised it actively. So the first mate didn’t have many options on who could have been writing the letters. “Lucius, I need to ask something from you.” You started, knowing he might just do this for you. The ‘mhm?’ he gave was all you needed as a sign to explain further. “Give the third letter to him.” You said quickly, biting your inner lip. The plan was to ask Lucius to give the letter, and when Izzy would eventually realise it wasn’t written by Lucius, he wouldn’t have many options left. Lucius stared at you for a moment before a faint smirk formed on his face. “Alright.” He said, raising his eyebrows in a knowing manner. It seemed he didn’t need a further explanation, the plan being clear to him.

After the conversation, you got to writing. This letter was more bold, more straight forward. You allowed your handwriting to differ more clearly from Lucius’, making it more obvious it wasn’t from the other man. Half way through writing, you leaned back on the chair. Was this even going to work? You had continued talking to Izzy after the first two, but he didn’t seem like he was even trying to figure out who was sending the letters. Or maybe you’d just missed his eyes wandering across the deck when he thought no one was looking, desperate to find who’d written words like that of him. Who in the crew would ever think of such things of someone like him?

You shook your head, resuming back to the letter. Writing the third one took the longest, only because it had all your thoughts in it. A proper confession with an ‘I love you’ at the end. You thought of signing this one, but then decided against it. He was witty enough to figure out it was you based on the letter, and if he felt the same he’d come looking for you. Hopefully.

That same evening you delivered the letter to Lucius, almost scared to let go of it. With a swift wink Lucius took it, and promised to give it to the first mate just before the crew usually went to rest. That way you’d be up in the crowsnest, the look-out shift taken by you yet again, and you could get some fresh air before having to face the first mate. 

Time passed, the tension within your body building up. With stiff steps you got up to the crowsnest and slid against the mast to sit down. A deep breath. Lucius would have given Izzy the letter around this time. There was no turning back now, but there was also still that part of you that didn’t even want to. You’d waited for long enough, and this was like ripping off a bandaid, only you didn’t know what the damage under would be. If any. 

Lucius had found Izzy, handing the letter to the man with that same amused grin on his face which he had tried to hide. “What is this?” Izzy asked, furrowing his brows slightly as he accepted the piece of paper. “Have you-?” He was about to add, but Lucius was already turning away to leave. “That is for you to figure out.” He said, before leaving Izzy alone with his thoughts and the letter. His eyes stared blankly at the folded paper, carefully opening it for reading. 

The first mate’s eyes scanned through the words, his free hand going slightly over his mouth. This letter had far more passion in it than the other two mysterious letters he’d received. But yet it was written tenderly with care, still anonymous. Lucius had been such an asshole about revealing who it was. Of course he had thought it must have been Lucius playing with him from the start, but after the second letter it had gotten far too advanced to be just a crude joke anymore, he hoped. But there weren’t many literate men on the ship.

Izzy took the time to find Stede’s diary in his hands, scrolling through it just enough to be able to compare the two handwritings together. He knew you and Lucus took turns writing notes for Stede, and to his luck he was able to match the styles. Lucius’ handwriting looked different from the one used in the letter, but the other style in the diary matched the one in the letter’s almost perfectly. It was you, had been this whole time.

Izzy slammed the book shut, folding the letter into his pocket and making his way to the main deck where he knew you were. Just today he’d told you to skip and leave the shift for him, but you'd strongly insisted against it, saying you didn’t feel tired due to the full moon. He’d wanted to ask what you were talking about, the time of the moon being full still at minimum a week away, but you had left before he was able to. But now he knew why you’d left so abruptly. 

Izzy appeared on the main deck, gaze searching for you. The deck itself was empty, it wasn’t yet so dark that he couldn’t see as much. The sky was clear of clouds, no fog in sight. No lookout in this weather would be on deck, you must have been in the crowsnest. His gaze travelled up, seeing the faint light of a candle up in the mast. “Aye!” He called out, voice keyed up. He hadn’t even thought of what to say, just wanting to know why you thought such things of him, still in the belief it must have been a bad joke being played on him. 

Izzy’s voice made your heart skip a beat, making you tense. He’d figured it out, of course he had. You swallowed, finding your mouth dry and jaw tense. “Yeah?” You called back, frozen in place. It didn’t take long for the man to reply. “Come on down here!” Another hard swallow. You should have just jumped over the gunwale earlier or left on a jolly boat, this was terrifying. “In a moment!” Your voice wavered as you got up and started climbing down, through the lubber’s hole, towards the main deck. 

It felt like the wooden flooring was lava as you stepped on it, finding Izzy standing there. The faint light of a singular lantern giving some light in the otherwise dark environment. You felt like running away as Izzy pulled the latest letter from his pocket. “Did you..write these?” He asked, breaking the silence which had been creeping its way between the two of you. You hadn’t even realised the force you’d been biting your inner lip at, before now. “I- Yes.” Your voice betrayed you yet again, the words coming out shaky. Almost like you thought you were in trouble? “So Lucius is off the hook.” Izzy said, the words not making you feel any better. “So I’m still- on the hook?” You asked, a light joke in an attempt to make the nervous sweat back down. “You could say so.” He put the letter back into his pocket. “Surely you don’t fucking think of me in that way?” The first mate added, the tone of his voice giving you the impression of him thinking you were tricking him. 

You wanted to reach out to him, to somehow tell him that you were speaking the truth, but your mouth was still dry. All words that were so beautifully written on the paper, now somehow gone, disappeared into thin air. Or in this case thick air, you felt like you couldn’t bloody breathe. “Izzy, I meant every word.” You said, voice almost so silent you feared it might have gotten lost in the light wind. Though, in truth there only being a cat’s paw on the water. Izzy’s eyes snapped on you, almost dropping the cigarette he’d been about to light. “You-” He started, but you wanted not to hear the things the man thought of himself. “Yes, I love you, you moron.” You allowed yourself to say, taking an awkward step closer to him. “Dear, I’m not worth your time…” He started yet again, which you wanted so desperately to end. He did not see the things you saw in him. “Shut up, please.” You took the cigarette from his hand, daring to look into his eyes, your gaze searching for his answer. Did he feel the same? 

Izzy must have seen the question marks in your eyes, as his expression softened to one of slight worry. “Please, don’t do this to me.” He said, his hand rising but not quite sure what he should do. “Say it.” You pleaded, eyes glued on his. “I do, more than I should. I love you” You bit back a relieved smile, gently placing your free hand on his collar. He didn’t pull away, rather leaned in which you took as a yes to kissing  him. It didn’t last long, the tension of it making you pull away slowly, but not far. His face left with a mix of emotions, of which most he didn’t know how to express. You smiled, turning to light the cigarette with the flame of the lantern. You took a quick drag from it before placing it near the man’s lips. He raised his hand enough to take a hold of the cigarette, mouth left softly agape. “I love you-” He said, voice lost, like he had to repeat the phrase just to make it sound real to himself. You wanted to reply, but a wave hit the bow of the ship. You wouldn't have otherwise reacted, but the moment had caught you off guard, just like the wave. It swayed the ship softly, pushing you against him. There was no real danger of tumbling over, but the first mate still placed his free hand swiftly behind your back, looking rather awkward after. “I know.” You smiled, now knowing saying that was true. Finally you knew he cared for you too, knew that he’d realised how you felt.

AN// It's yet again 4am when I proof read this, so if there are any mistakes I apologise for that!