#Izzy hands x reader

[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.

[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.”

[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

[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

[dragon-kazansky]

Spirit of the sea

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

You were a member of Blackbeard's crew long ago. Then you became a ghost story. Izzy Hands only sees you in his dreams these days, until he sees you for real when investigating Stede Bonnet. This sets him on a rollercoaster of emotions between you and what his captain is doing.

♡♡♡

Chapter One - Ghost stories

Chapter Two - Delusional

Chapter Three - Can you see me now?

Chapter Four - Just like before

Chapter Five - Rocky waters

Chapter Six - Out in the open

Chapter Seven - Blind Man's Cove

Chapter Eight - Captain Hands

Chapter Nine - Changing of the tides

♡♡♡

Season 2 content from here

Blackbeard rules the sea. Despite wanting his captain back, Izzy realises his mistake. Protecting the crew is his concern. Protecting you is his life mission. Stede's return brings hope, but there's a lot of work to be done before this crew becomes a family.

♡♡♡

Chapter Ten - The Kraken

Chapter Eleven - Indestructible little fucker

Chapter Twelve - Captain, oh Captain

Chapter Thirteen - Loving touch

Chapter Fourteen - Healing Hands

Chapter Fifteen - Night to remember

Chapter Sixteen - Sea on fire

Chapter Seventeen - The unicorn and his sparrow

Epilogue

♡♡♡

[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.

[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

[stedefxckingbonnet]

Moonlight Meetings | Izzy Hands x Reader

Summary: You knew Stede Bonnet from his days of being married to your dearest friend, Mary. Although Mary was your best friend, you were still there for Stede during his conflicting feelings about his marriage and wanting to sail the seas and explore the world and, well, become a pirate, and without judgment, too. You wished you had gone with him when he had left, but you stayed loyal to Mary. But upon Stede's return and him and Mary giving and getting the closure they mutually needed, as well as her assisting him in faking his death so he could truly go and live the life he's wanted to pursue without guilt, you do end up going with him this time. You actually reveal yourself to be a skilled navigator and trader, but even before this knowledge, the crew accepted you with open arms. Even a certain first mate who was weary at first (you are Stede's friend, after all) comes around, although you tried to take over his late night thinking spot as your own. You end up sharing said spot and looking forward to your encounters and conversations every night, even throughout the days.

Warnings: slight inconsistency with plot of OFMD (just the stuff with when Stede returns after leaving again, it's really not too evident or bothersome i don't think), some strong language, briefest mention of blood ever, some light angst, brief mentions of troubling past, brief explorations of anxiety, kissing

This honestly took me a few days to write, and Tumblr didn't save some of it, so that was frustrating, anyhow—I truly hope you all enjoy this! I enjoyed writing it. I have a few requests that I will be fulfilling hopefully tomorrow as well, or at least in the next couple of days especially after recent events if you know what I mean...I love you all so dearly and I cannot thank you enough for all the love you've shown me so far. I've enjoyed talking with you all whether it's through the comments or my inbox or even messages :) Keep the requests coming, and have a wonderful day (or night!)

Word Count: 5461

You had never fathomed that the sun could even shine this brightly. For once in your life, its beams didn't berate you but rather seemed to engulf you in a warm embrace as a sort of sendoff on your new endeavors, encouraging you, almost—reassuring you that this was in fact the right choice.

Ever since Stede had taken off to start his new life as a pirate amongst the ocean, you couldn't help but feel envious. You would have given anything to be able to do the same, to leave everything behind and start fresh, especially upon the saltwater seas. Barbados was all you had ever known and it never truly felt like your home. But even just the thought, the daydream of sailing the seas and discovering places you never imagined existed, felt like absolute bliss and paradise. You were sad to see Stede go, too, but you knew it would be good for him. You knew he would be happier than he was living here with Mary and his children, living the life his parents designed for him. You were undeniably happy for him. But you couldn't help but also be extremely jealous, too. Though of course, you would never express these feelings harshly—you really were over the moon for Stede. You just wished for something beyond the life that was handed to you, too. You knew he understood that, too.

Whenever you and Stede would whisper about his plans in corners at all of those socialite gatherings in the rare moments when no one was watching, he would always suggest for you to go with him, but you felt like you had no choice but to stay, especially with Mary. She was your dearest friend, and you felt strongly about your loyalty towards her. You'd never admit you were also terrified of your name being slandered and that your new reputation would follow you out there forever if you had left with him, at least at that time, in those circumstances.

But, Stede returned briefly, and all had been rekindled with Mary. They sincerely wished each other well, and she even helped him pull off a grandiose stunt—faking his death, and you knew that now, he was finally able to live the life he yearned for in peace and free of guilt. He killed off the Stede Bonnet of Barbados, and truly began to grow into the person he wanted to be—Stede Bonnet of the sea, The Gentleman Pirate.

Once he pulled it off, you walked over with him to the sand to send him off once again. There was a lingering moment between the two of you, both knowing that this would not be farewell.

"I'm going to ask you again," Stede started. "Do you want to come with me? Please, come with me, it's amazing out there. And the crew, oh!—you'd just love the crew! Please?"

How could you resist this time? Even before he had formally asked again, you were already on board, ready for whatever awaited you on this journey.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The first few weeks aboard The Revenge had been nothing short of wonderful. You already felt well acquainted with your crew, and there were even a particular few you felt yourself getting closer to already, and hoped you all would continue to. But there were parts of it that were terrifying, too—it would hit you in the most out of nowhere moments that you just up and left your last life. It's not like anything, let alone anyone was waiting for you back there, but nonetheless it shocked you from time to time that you had even left. You felt like an entirely new person—you knew that in your core you were still you, but your identity felt a bit lost in this new environment somewhere. You hardly mourned this, as you were excited to explore a new you, but that didn't erase the fact that it was frightening. There were nights where you found yourself confiding in Stede about this for hours, but you eventually stopped as you noticed Ed would already be in his quarters when you arrived and you wanted to give them privacy. Still, you couldn't stand to be alone in your own quarters, but you weren't sure which of your crew mates' doors you could knock on just yet. The only place left was to check out the main deck, see if there were any nooks and crannies you may have missed.

After a few minutes of searching, you found the perfect spot—you couldn't really be seen by anyone else on the deck, if anyone decided to walk onto it, but you could still stare out at the water and the moonlight. The moon's reflection rippling across the ocean was one of your favorite sights—it brought you such peace, so you were honestly glad that you strayed from being holed up in Stede's room and wound up here instead. You were about to sit when you felt someone else's presence beside you. You jumped, immediately turning around to see who it was, your hand instinctively reaching for your sword.

"It's just me," Izzy sighed. "You can put your fucking sword away. Just me.

You let out a sigh of relief upon the sight of the first mate. You knew that his presence unsettled, or really just annoyed the others, but not you. His presence made you feel safe and looked after, even if he was a bit harsh a lot of the time.

"This is my spot, you know," he sighed once again.

"Your spot?"

"It's where I come to think every single night, even when I'm not on watch," he explained to you surprisingly patiently.

"Do you want me to leave?" you pondered, almost frantically. You didn't want to feel like you had invaded yet another space. You knew you would start spiraling, start thinking that maybe there wasn't a place for you aboard The Revenge. And honestly, Izzy wanted to be alone, but the look on your face almost pierced through his heart. He didn't have the heart to tell you off.

"You don't have to," he shrugged, sitting down beside you. "It's fine."

You both stared out at the sea. You were beyond grateful to have some company, honestly—company beyond the moon itself. Not long after, a sigh escaped your own lips. Izzy tried to fight off the urge to talk to you, but he couldn't deny that he felt so drawn to you, even when you first arrived on the ship.

"Something wrong?" he finally asked, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. He intended to keep you in his periphery.

"I guess I've just been feeling kind of like an outsider," you shrugged, continuing. "Being here is all I've ever wanted and more, but I just feel like such a burden to everyone all the time. I don't really have anyone to talk to, and even when Stede left our village, I only had one friend. Now I just feel even more alone...It's silly, I know."

"It's not," Izzy protested. "I get it. I do."

"You do?"

Izzy nodded. "You don't ever see me talking to anyone, do you?"

You paused to ponder. "Not unless they need something."

"Exactly."

"Do you ever get lonely, Izzy?"

Such an innocent inquiry was enough to almost make Izzy's heart stop. Looking at you from the corner of his eye wasn't enough anymore. He turned his head to face you, witnessing the genuine expression on your face. You truly cared, and you truly wanted to know. No one had ever looked at Izzy this way before, and he wasn't sure of how it was supposed to make him feel—frustrated? Sad? Sorry? Joyous, even? He subtly put his gloved hand upon his chest, thinking somehow it would slow his quickly-paced heartbeat. He wasn't used to this, he couldn't even believe this was happening. He even felt he was reading too much into this—but, you cared, and he knew it right away. He didn't know what to do with that. But it was a pleasant feeling, teetering on bittersweet. Upon realizing your question was still hanging in the air, he quickly spoke again, his mind not exactly in sync with his mouth.

"I suppose."

Izzy's response hung in the air just as your query had. It felt relieving to put such a thing out into the universe, but it also felt dreadful facing this reality. Was this the reason behind the occasionally random sharp pains in his chest, almost reminiscent of someone stabbing him right through his heart with a sword? These physical sensations never came without a looming feeling of gloominess, after all. He almost exhaled at the thought. He wasn't sure whether or not he was ready to explore any of this, let alone if he even wanted to do so. His gaze was still fixated on you, as if he were awaiting to hear something from you as well. For once in his life, hope could be seen in his eyes, though he didn't know it.

Finally, you spoke. "I'll be the moon."

A laugh almost boomed from Izzy's chest. "What?"

"I'll be here every night, if you'll have me. If there's ever a particularly hard day, just remember that the moon will rise at the end of the day and be there for you to lament all your sorrows to," you stood up by this point, speaking sort of dramatically, but it was apparent that you meant it sincerely. "And even during the day, did you know you can still see the moon? So, I'll be there during the day, too."

Izzy was in complete and utter disbelief in the best way possible. He was truly at a loss for words, and he swore his head was going to hurt from how much he was nodding. You smiled at this sight, and held your hand out to help Izzy up. He looked at you, confusing written all over his expression, but you kept your hand there. Finally, he allowed himself to put his hand in yours and before he knew it, he was back on his feet again, in more ways than one.

"Goodnight, Izzy."

"Right. Yes. Goodnight."

The thought of Izzy didn't leave your mind even as you retreated to your quarters, nor when you succumbed to sleep for the remainder of the night's reign. Little did you know that Izzy thought of you, too. That you weren't just going to be his moonlight, but also, his sunshine. But he didn't know that just yet.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You rose right as the sun did the next day, never having been more ready to take on a day until now. Something was even more enchanting about watching the transition of grey hues into orange into light blue, but this process in reverse would always have your heart. The rest of the crew woke up shortly after you, some still yawning, some stumbling upon the main deck from exhaustion. You couldn't help but giggle at such sights. None other than Izzy Hands followed behind them and your heart almost skipped a beat. Usually when this happened it was because you were overcome with worry, but, not this time and you knew that deep down. When you swore no one else was looking, you glanced over and sent a grin his way, to which he slightly returned—blinked, and you would have missed it. Your smile grew even larger, and you had to turn away to conceal it. Before you knew it, you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders, causing you to gasp.

"Someone's chipper this morning."

"Stede!" you exclaimed, laughing so hard that your stomach would probably hurt later. You swiveled around to face him. "Scared the ever living shit out of me."

"Sorry about that," Stede couldn't help but chuckle. "I just wanted to check in with you...are you feeling happy here? You settling in okay? I know it's a lot to just up and leave your life."

"Honestly, I've never been better," you admitted, your smile still existing upon you. And your smile was radiant—it had almost everyone's head turns toward you, their hearts feeling warm. Even Izzy. Especially Izzy. "I am so glad I did this. I regret not joining you sooner, but I—"

"I know," Stede jumped in to assure you, which you were endlessly grateful for. He knew of your tendency to spiral, and he wanted to cultivate a space where you didn't feel like you had to do so. "And I admire your loyalty. It's been an asset on this ship so far."

You sent a glance of gratitude his way before he walked off upon the sight of Ed emerging from his quarters, finally. You laughed as they made their ways over to one another. You were beyond happy to see your dear friend so happy, so in love. So in his element, where he truly belonged.

"Everyone, get to work!" Izzy suddenly shouted, to which the crew immediately scurried off to their designated areas. This didn't startle you, though. You made your way over to the kitchen to assist Roach in organizing the rations, accidentally brushing hands with Izzy as you did. You stopped in your tracks and looked at him from over your shoulder. He was looking at you, too, the smallest smile on his face. He couldn't look away, even though he wanted to just in case his face flushed or he smiled any further or, gods forbid, anyone else saw. You weren't afraid to keep smiling, and after what felt like forever of engaging in this staring match with the first mate, you finally ducked into the kitchen, so as not to keep Roach waiting. If you had, he would know something happened and he would pester you about it for the rest of your life.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Night fell sooner than you could realize it and for that, you were entirely grateful. You had been distracted the entirety of the day; the thought of whatever you and Izzy may have to share later dancing around in your mind, causing your heart to do pirouettes whenever you daydreamed about it. You almost couldn't even wait until everyone was asleep—but you knew this would run the risk of revealing your and Izzy's secret spot, and that would be less than ideal for the both of you. The last thing you wanted was to ruin a good thing that was only just beginning to blossom.

But tonight, Izzy was early. He found himself inhabited in the very same spot as the previous night, just as he had promised. Without a word, you plopped down right beside him, sending one of your signature smiles his way.

"I've never wished a day away like I had today," you laughed breathlessly.

"Nor have I. Yet, here we are." You could tell that there wasn't resentment behind Izzy's statement, but rather, a sort of joy. You discreetly moved a bit closer to him, your knees almost brushing against one another. Izzy also moved toward you at the same time, causing said collision. You were grateful for the dark concealing the rose tint creeping upon your cheeks. Izzy was grateful for the dark concealing the smile creeping upon his lips.

Izzy exhaled almost sharply, preparing to speak again, really speak. "I don't mean to scare off the crew, you know."

"I don't think you scare them one bit," you were quick to reassure him. "It's just how times were in the time where you sailed with Blackbeard, right?"

Izzy nodded almost rapidly, in utter shock that you already had such a good read on him. "Times were different, that's for sure."

"I can tell you care," you told him sincerely. "You just have a way of showing it that the crew isn't used to. I mean, they have Stede fucking Bonnet as one of their captains."

Izzy didn't hesitate to laugh at that. "Yeah. Stupid fucking Stede Bonnet...but what was it like?"

"What was what like?"

"Being a part of...that world. His world."

You rolled your eyes somewhat playfully. "It was...a lot, all at once. Lots of uncomfortable clothes, powder on my face that made me look sickly but everyone would swear I was beautiful. But I never felt like a real fucking person. Ever. It was honestly exhausting."

Izzy listened intently, leaning in a bit to further demonstrate this. He nodded as you spoke, nods that spoke: I understand. That does sound like a lot. That does sound exhausting. It's amazing that you left that life behind. You're destined for so much more than what you were given. But all Izzy could manage to say, was, "No wonder you left. That sounded awful." He was mentally punching himself for not thinking of anything better to say. You deserved words in which were beautifully and artfully strung together. He knew that.

But, you laughed, knowing he empathized just by the way he looked at you. You were no stranger to these sorts of glances—sure, no one had ever looked at you that way before, but it was all you read about in your favorite romance novels, described so vividly that once you did encounter a moment like this, you would immediately recognize it, and, you did. "I'm better now. Much better. Where I need to be."

Once again, Izzy nodded. "You've been a great addition to this crew."

"Really?" you asked, almost in disbelief, but you were flattered to say the very least.

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it." To anyone else, this would have sounded harsh. To you, these were the most reassuring words you had ever heard. He looked over at you, insecurity rushing through his bloodstream and you could see this. Even in the light of the moon, you could see the paleness of Izzy's face.

"Thank you, Izzy." You spoke sincerely, and suddenly all pigment re-entered Izzy's once ghostly features. Such words felt so foreign and out of reach for him, until you had confidently brought them into existence. From you, this declaration wasn't a whisper—he could tell that you meant it with your entire heart. He couldn't even recall the last time someone had shown him a shred of gratitude, or if anyone ever had at all before this. Just those three words were enough to send warmth all throughout his body even as the breeze threatened to send shivers down both of your spines and force you underneath the warmth of your blankets in your respective quarters. This would be a warmth that would carry on every time he saw you from this point on—you would be the start to the fireplace in his heart, and part of him knew this was going to begin to happen from this moment forward. As long as you were going to be around, he knew he would at least never be entirely freezing again.

All Israel Hands could manage to do now was look at you. There were stars in his eyes paired tears hat threatened to cascade down his cheeks like waterfalls and he hoped so much that you weren't able to see, that the moon would spare him at least a bit. But you so badly wanted to reach out and wipe away the water from the corners of his eyes, though you wanted his complete trust even more, and that seemed like the last way to get it, at least this early on.

"My eyes just get dry," Izzy quickly defended in case you had seen anything.

You stifled a quiet laugh. "It is pretty windy out here."

"So, see you tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow," you confirmed, not even trying to conceal the corners of your lips rising to form a smile.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Tomorrow's would unfold every single night, not one ever missed. There were even a few nights that you happened to be in the midst of a cold but you insisted to be in your spot with Izzy, to which he would protest and you would compromise by allowing your meetings to happen in your quarters as he got Roach to make you soup, and you were better within the next few days. And even on the days where Izzy felt like absolutely screaming and cursing at the world, perhaps directing this to Blackbeard and Stede, he would still eagerly await your time together—it would be beyond enough to get him through those days.

It had now been quite some time since these meetings began. You were really beginning to solve the riddle that was Izzy Hands, and you quite liked what you were finding, and it only made you yearn to uncover even more. But, there were many nights and even days spent where you worried—worried that perhaps Izzy was ashamed of the connection that you two had formed, and that was why your encounters took place at night. Or, perhaps he was just lonely, or he had nothing better to do. You did your best to push these thoughts to the back of your mind but you usually had no luck. And, it was even harder to deny the blossoming feelings you had for the man.

Even before the first time you two had really conversed, you knew there was something about the first mate that you were drawn to, and these nights with Izzy had only confirmed that.

Little did you know that the same fears, and probably even more, existed within Izzy. Of all the people in the crew, why had you taken interest in him? He knew that even Stede Bonnet was probably of more interest, with his fancy wears and his everlasting bookshelves. Or Frenchie perhaps, with his instrument and his voice that the crew never got sick of hearing. Or Lucius with his sketches and his wit. Or hell, even Blackbeard himself, with all of the anecdotes he had up his sleeve—but why him? Why Israel Hands? This thought often plagued him to the point where his head would begin to hurt just a bit, and whenever it did (and, you knew when it did—he wasn't the best at hiding the wincing at all), he would just cake it to the changes in weather, or something that had happened that day, or even not drinking enough water. You always knew these excuses were, well, excuses, but you also knew it wasn't best to press.

Sometimes, part of Izzy wished that you would press. It was you, so he wouldn't mind as much. It wasn't likely that he would pour out his concerns, but he would appreciate yours.

As soon as you arose, you already spotted Black Pete and Lucius, who absolutely qualified for the cutest couple award, if there were such a thing—you wouldn't be surprised if Stede had established that just for them. But, your heart sank just a bit, knowing you couldn't express your growing love for Izzy like that. You weren't even sure you would know if he returned your feelings, and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin such a beautiful thing between the both of you with such knowledge, especially if he truly didn't feel the same. But every morning, your heart would ache, and it became harder and harder to keep all of this love to yourself. You wanted more than anything for it to pour out of you like a fountain that never stopped flowing. You reserved such ardor for Izzy and Izzy alone. Never had you carried such affection, such fondness for another, and not only did that excite you, but it also scared the hell out of you.

The crew noticed this after the first few weeks—oh, you were far from subtle. You practically glowed whenever Izzy entered a room, even if you appeared completely composed.

Finally, Izzy rose from his quarters and your heart leapt in your chest. You couldn't hold it in anymore, and there was no way you were waiting for the moon to rise tonight. You waltzed right over to Izzy, gently pulling him aside. He didn't resist your touch at all—it felt almost familiar, and peaceful.

"Do you have a moment?" you suddenly asked.

"For you? Always. For anything else? Probably not," he chuckled.

Before you were about to speak once again, Stede had announced that the ship had docked. You sighed, slumping against the railing that you and Izzy were propped up against.

"Can it wait?" Izzy asked you sheepishly, his eyes apologizing.

"Oh. Yes. Yes, it can," you sighed.

"Not for long," Izzy assured you as he rushed off in order to ensure the ship's safe docking. It only took a few moments before he gestured for you to follow him off of the ship. You perked up at this, grabbing your satchel and running over to him.

"So, what is it you wanted to talk about?" he asked as you walked along the pathway of the Republic of Pirates.

"I...It's nothing. Not here, at least."

"Then where?" Izzy sent a playful smile your way.

"Could we actually head back to the ship? Just for a moment?"

Izzy pondered this—for just a moment. "I suppose no one would really notice, and if they did, they wouldn't care all that much."

This time, Izzy followed you. You were already beginning to regret this quite a bit, and beads of sweat were forming upon your temple. You wiped them away carefully, fanning yourself with your hand. You led Izzy to your shared spot, barely being able to breathe. Nor was Izzy with the way you were practically running back, and he had to do his best to keep up the pace. But the thought that something could be wrong was beginning to plague him.

"I couldn't wait until tonight," you finally admit, nervous laughter bubbling out of you.

"Most days, I can't either," Izzy sent a reassuring, but equally as nervous smile your way. "All of the time, actually."

All you could manage to do was sit there and just glow. You glowed underneath the sun's beams and the sight of it made Izzy absolutely melt, and not from the heat.

"Is everything alright? Just wanted to talk?"

Your eyes stayed fixated upon the man before you, the person whom you carried so much love for that it almost overflowed out of you. And, it was no secret that you had never felt this way about anyone before, and Stede Bonnet himself could and would be overjoyed to confirm it. You were often urged to find some sort of attachment toward a plethora of potential "worthy" suitors, but none of them ever caught your eye, nor had much to offer you despite all of their pleas. You always had this feeling deep down that none of them were truly suitable, and so you bore no hesitation saving yourself and your heart for someone that was. And Israel Hands was beyond anything you had ever dreamed of. He suited you so perfectly. He was worthy of all of the love in the world and so much more—you just hoped yours was enough for him. You hoped he would want any of it—it was his if he did.

And oh, did he want it. He yearned for you. Izzy's heart ached when the two of you were forced to retreat to your quarters after hours of conversation. He could spend forever just sitting there with you, his arm wrapped around you as you witnessed the sky's change every day, together. To him, that would be absolute paradise. Every second he spent with you, and even when you were apart, he knew in his heart that he held this special sort of feeling for you. Dare he call it love, as he didn't want his heart to shatter into a million pieces that he wouldn't be able to pick up. But, you were it for him, and he knew that deep down. He could see it in your eyes, or at least, he hoped that was what he was seeing. You did look at him with stars in your eyes, and you knew that.

"Please, don't hate me," you started, biting your lip so harshly that it almost drew blood.

"Hate you?" Izzy repeated, absolutely puzzled. "I couldn't hate you even if I tried."

You inhaled so sharply that you almost choked on air. You laughed it off, though Izzy instinctively placed his arm on the small of your back, tracing small patterns into it. With this, you collapsed into his arms and he was already set up to catch you. Sobs escaped your lips as he moved one of his hands to the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair in an attempt to hopefully soothe you. These weren't instincts he was familiar with, yet, he felt as if he was meant to do these things. "You can tell me. Take your time, of course," he assured you as you continued to cry. After a moment, you managed to compose yourself a bit and you felt okay enough to pull away, but Izzy kept his hands on your upper arms gently, just in case. He was really starting to grow concerned, his stomach churning.

"You won't hate me?"

Izzy laughed, to which you managed the smallest of smiles. "I could never."

"I...I feel very connected to you, Izzy," you began. "And our conversations have really confirmed that for me. I don't just think about you at night before we talk—do you know that? You are the first thing that enters my mind each morning and then I can't wait to see you, really see you and talk to you and be close to you. And some days on this ship are hard, Izzy, but you make things so much easier. You take so much weight off of my shoulders."

"The thought of getting to talk to you gets me out of bed every day," Izzy admitted. "I've been doing this a long time and sometimes I don't know what it's all for anymore, why I even bother. But if I get to see your smile, it's all worth it."

You swore you were about to become a blubbering mess if you opened your mouth to speak at all. As you took a step forward towards him, your fingers intertwining as you approached. His other hand gently landed upon your waist, and your eyes met at the same second. The gap between you both was too much, too much, and neither of you could take its existence anymore—he gently reeled you in and you pressed your lips against his. He quietly gasped in surprise, though it was quickly followed by a sort of sigh of relief as he returned your kiss, returned your sentiments. You smiled against his lips and he couldn't help but do the same, there was no denying that your smile was contagious. He felt as if he were meant to do this, meant to show you such tenderness and care and love. And you would do anything in your power to show him that he was worthy of all of yours.

"I..." Izzy whispered against your lips. "I love you." The words almost got stuck in his throat—they felt unfamiliar, and unfamiliar was rarely not terrifying or dreadful. Right now, unfamiliar was exhilarating. Those three words were the truest he had ever spoken. You lit up more than the sun, the stars, and the moon combined.

"I love you, Israel." You had saved those three words for someone special, someone whom you truly adored without any question, and Izzy happened to be that someone. Anyone else would never, ever compare. He engulfed you in another embrace, your shirt becoming slightly stained by his tears. "I was meant to."

"Meant to what?"

"I was meant to love you. Made for it, probably," you laughed.

Izzy took hold of your hand once again, disentangling himself from your embrace to face you. With his free hand, he cupped your cheek and his thumb caressed it softly. "I think perhaps the moon knew to bring us together. But I loved...I loved you even before then. Or at least, I had a strong feeling I was going to. That, I'm certain about."

"Think we still have some time before everyone notices we're gone?" you asked, hope wavering in your voice.

"Oh, we've got ample long as they're at Spanish Jackie's," he couldn't help but chuckle. "We've got all the time in the world, my love."

"All of the time in the world," you repeated. "I love the sound of that."

[gl1tchgr3mlin]

I’m itching to write, but can’t decide what, so I’m gonna open up requests for anyone who wants to ask!

I mainly write reader insert fics!

Fandoms (and characters) I’ll write for:

-MCU (Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker, Deadpool, Wolverine, Scott Lang, Matt Murdock, the moon knight boys)

-Batman (Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake)

-Our Flag Means Death (any of them, I love them all, but also specifically Izzy and Frenchie)

-Trigun Stampede (Vash, Wolfwood, Knives, Meryl)

Tropes I enjoy, but aren’t necessary:

-friends to lovers

-enemies to lovers

-soulmates

-meet cutes

-fantasy AU

-monsters 😌

-religious/mythological references

What I won’t write for:

-underage

-noncon

-incest/pseudo incest

-heavy gore

Please specify if your request is platonic or romantic, or I will pick what fits best in my mind for the prompt given!

Nsfw requests are allowed, but will take longer to be fulfilled and posted. Nsfw posts will be marked as such, MDNI!

I look forward to writing for yall! 😊

[pandalorian36]

Izzy x (Genderneutral)Reader

Ed reveals the reason Izzy is always so grumpy and short tempered is because he got separated from you.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, knives/swords. Word count: 4655

Izzy stomps away from yet another shouting match muttering under his breath as he goes the rest of the crew staring after him in a state of shock. He had never yelled that much for something so little. Lucius had kissed Pete on the cheek and next thing Izzy was yelling and cursing about everything. “Well, that was intense.” Lucius nods agreeing with his partner just as Stede and Ed emerge onto deck “What the blazes was that all about?” Ed glances over at his first mate and Roach speaks up “Izzy snapped.”

Ed nods slightly “We heard that. Why?” Lucius glances at Pete “I kissed Pete on the cheek.” Stede looks shocked “Something so small? Really? We thought someone had broken the ship.” Ed looks confused a moment before looking up speaking quickly “What’s the date?”

“Sorry?”

“The date. Today. What is it?”

Lucius looks at the diary tucked under his arm “June 2nd possibly 3rd.” Ed, Ivan and Fang all exchange a look of understanding “June 3rd. I’ll go check on him.” Ed leaves the rest of the crew gathering around Ivan and Fang who clearly have the rest of the story. Stede pipes up “What happened June 3rd?" Ivan sighs shrugging “It was just over two years ago. We raided a merchant vessel, turned out to have a lot more weapons on board than we intended and was actually full of trained soldiers. We managed to set the ship a light and get back to the Queen Anne when the flames hit a gunpowder storage. Lucky our ship wasn’t damaged, but it caused a big confusion.”

He stops and Fang takes over the story “those that were on the main deck didn’t get injured, but it did confuse us enough that the merchant crew managed to take charge. Two of our crew where captured which did allow the rest to escape but Ed forbid us from going back. We now know one was killed but the second we don’t know. Their name was Y/N, they were Izzy’s. Partner? Lover? Companion? Actually, I’m not sure what they were but they were incredibly close, always had each other’s backs. God, forbid you threatened one of them the other was always close by. They were the only one who could best Izzy at swordplay,” he grins “Part from Stede.”

Ivan sighs “Before we lost Y/N, Izzy was actually pretty tolerable. He’s always had a temper and a tendency to threaten people, but Y/N could always calm them. Couldn’t help but like Y/N, don’t get me wrong they were a ruthless pirate, loyal to Ed and Izzy. Forgot to mention Y/N was Ed’s younger sibling, least we think so. Fiercely protective of each other.”

The whole crew remains silent taking the information in. Ed leans on the railing next to Izzy crossing his arms out over the water “I miss ‘em too Iz.”

“Fuck off Edward.”

“I just thought… Actually, don’t know what I thought.”

Izzy sighs shoulders sagging “Why couldn’t we go back?” Ed frowns staring out over the sea “I had to think of the crew. If we had gone back, you know none of us would of come away.” Ed clasps Izzy’s shoulder “Y/N probably would have some stupid motivational crap to say to ya but fraid all I got is they’re gone mate, not anything we can do about it. Just have to move on.” Ed walks away Stede falling into step beside him “You never mentioned you had a brother/sister?”

Ed shrugs slightly walking back into their cabin “Not something I like to talk about. They’re dead not anything can do about it.”

“Still, you must miss them. Where you close?” Ed sighs falling onto the sofa “Suppose we we’re close yea. Them and Izzy where the only two I ever trusted.” Stede sits on the edge of the sofa by Ed’s feet frowning “I’m sorry.” Ed shrugs “‘is alright. Sometimes feel guilty for it though. You know? I was captain, I ordered the raid and the burning of the ship.”

“It’s not your fault Ed,” Stede tries to sound reassuring patting his leg “I’m sure there was nothing you could have done.” Ed flips himself around, so his head is in Stedes lap letting him play with his hair “It’s not your fault.”

Izzy is still standing over the railing the ring usually safe around his neck scarf clasped between thumb and finger.

“Izzy.” Y/N hisses from the shadows pulling the first mate away from the crowds “What the fuck are you doing?” Y/N rolls their eyes “Playing crochet. What do you fucking think I’m doing. Captain Vance just turned up.”

“Shit.” Y/N snorts in response “My thoughts exactly. Come on.” The two make their way towards the docks using the back alleys both freezing when a deep gravelly voice echoes down the confined space making it seem louder “Well, well, well what do we have here? Israel Hands and Y/N Teach.” The two-freeze swearing colourfully before turning Izzy raising his sword and Y/N gripping a pistol tightly “What do you want Vance?”

Vance a large bulky man with scars decorating most of his skin the remainder coated in ink. “That’s Captain Vance to you dog.” Y/N scowls their grip on the pistol tightening as the flick the hammer ready to fire “What do you want Captain Vance?”

“I want to kill you two worthless lumps. You torched my ship.” Izzy smiles slightly “Only a little.” Vance seethes “A little. A little? You destroyed it.” Vance takes out two pistols readying them to fire “I would like to draw this out, make it painful and slow. Then watch as Black Beard finds your mutilated bodies. But unfortunately, I do not have that luxury. Still, you will at least be dead.” Y/N shoots first three shots echoing around the alley. Vance falls to the ground blood blossoming from his shoulder while his shots hit the wall sending bits of rock flying.

“Time to go.” Y/N grabs Izzy’s arm the two of them running full pelt from the alley as Vance swearing and spluttering lumbers back to his feet to give chase. Flying out into the busy street where a market is being held the two dodge between stalls skidding down another alley as Vance’s crew appear with their captain in the lead a bloodied cloth to his shoulder “FIND THEM.”

“We’ve got to get back to the ship!” Y/N turns to Izzy pausing when they both realise how close they have gotten in the small space. Izzy’s cheek heat while Y/N smirks “Am I making you uncomfortable Iz?” he shakes his head slightly making the latter chuckle pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before shooting him a wink “I’ll cause a distraction. You get Ed.”

Before Izzy can protest Y/N has leapt onto the closest stool selling jewellery grabbed a fistful of brightly coloured gems and started yelling at the top of their lungs “Captain Vance, I believe these colours would draw the attention away from that ass of a face you have. Although anyone would have to be blind before they even considered you attractive. Least you can fight… oh wait no you can’t. You’re just crap at everything aren’t you.”

Jumping from stall to stall and causing utter chaos in the midst Y/N runs deeper into town while Izzy runs back to the ship to get backup. The two of them may be the best swords on the Queen Anne but they’re also smart enough to know Captain Vance and his crew are not to be messed with. As Izzy reaches the ship as a large explosion shakes the docks a cloud of dust rising from deep inside the town. “What the fuck was that.” Ed appears on the gangplank while Izzy sighs shaking his head slightly “Who do you think?” they both say the same thing in unison “Y/N.”

As if they have been summoned Y/N comes skidding over the rooftop’s tiles falling to the floor before they topple to the ground in a heap when they jump on a barrel that is not secure “What the fuck did you do?” Izzy helps them to their feet “Caused a distraction. Captain Vance will no longer be a problem.” Ed snorts supporting Y/N’s other side as they walk onto the ship “Our worst enemy gone for good. Excellent work. Iz help ‘em get cleaned up gotta make sure we’re ready to go.”

Izzy helps Y/N limp to their cabin “Do I even want to know?” Y/N shrugs “Probably not. Got you something.” Out their pocket they take a simple diamond ring smiling proudly “It’s not real, and pretty sure it’s not even gold but for you.” Izzy takes it slipping it on the handkerchief around his neck “Where did you get it?”

Y/N starts removing their outer layers poking at a wound on their side while talking “Stole it. Its only temporary before I get you something better. Can’t have my man wearing second rate jewellery. But thought you needed something to show you were taken. Not that pirates care for such things. You don’t have to wear it; just thought I don’t know.” Izzy rolls his eyes clamping a hand over Y/Ns mouth to stop their rambling “I’ll wear it. Though we’ve already got tattoos can’t get much more permanent than that.” Y/N shrugs starting to clean their cut before Izzy takes over kneeling between their legs on the floor “Do you think we’ll be okay? With our profession and everything.”

The two stare into each other’s eyes a moment before Y/N closes the gap cupping Izzy’s face gently “We’re gonna be just fine.”

Izzy returns the ring to its rightful place. Y/N did in fact gift him much more most of it stolen but some of it actually bought, including the sword hanging at his side. He glances at the pale band of skin on his ring finger still visible despite two years, the ring that use to sit their long gone. Where he had no idea, but it felt like a stab to the chest every time he saw it was gone. Returning his gaze out over the sea he ignores the whispering crew behind him wishing he could go back and change the past and return Y/N Teach to his side.

Your P/O/V:

Shit. I duck into the nearest alley tugging my hood further forward as a group of navy officer’s marches past in perfect form. Breathing a sigh of relief when they pass, I push back my hood leaning against the wall. Finally free of that cramped cell and tattered clothing. Two years, eight months and three weeks spent in an British prison, it’s a relief to be free. Though wanted posters have started appearing around the docks with a reasonable reward.

Keeping to the shadows I head closer to the docks inspecting the ships currently docked. Taverns are the best place for gossip, and I have heard varying tales of my brother, which ones I believe I am not sure. Most people give me wary looks the heavy hood, leather and two swords crossed across my back and pistol holstered on my thigh don’t exactly scream friendly.

Finding a dingy tavern any member of the navy would avoid like the plague I step inside tossing a few coins on the counter “Rum.” The bartender an elderly man with multiple missing teeth and stringy hair pushes a glass across the counter “And information I imagine?” I smile into my drink “What do you know of Blackbeard?”

“Blackbeard? Queen Anne is under new captainage they was here last week. Not sure where Blackbeard ended up. Word is he’s gone soft sailing with some gentlemen pirate, though few believe those rumours.” I nod finishing my drink he refills it without my asking before moving along the bar to serve someone else. I sip this one leaning back against the bar, gentlemen pirate never heard of him before.

Finishing my second drink I stalk out the bar all I need is a ship. A small vessel catches my eye definitely pirate from the crew loading up supplies I watch from the shadows as they stumble about on deck. Not the most experienced of crew but they will have to all I need is the captain. Someone clears their throat behind me, and I turn “Shit.” The officer grins “Y/N Teach you are under arrest.” I sigh putting my hands in the air “Fine you caught me.” turning away for a second, I form a fist before spinning back catching the officer across the jaw sending him sprawling to the ground.

Taking of I run towards the tree line more shouts echoing behind, so much for a low profile. Several shots ring out as I start zig-zagging closer to the trees jumping over a stack of barrels and a wall before finally reaching the trees. “You are ordered to stop.” I grin speeding up as I enter the trees following a worn path deeper in land before taking a sharp turn back to the coast. Swinging myself up into the low branches I jump from tree to tree watching the navy officers below following my footprints “Where did they go?”

“They can’t be far.”

“Do we kill them?”

I jump to the next tree slowly making my way back to town. Jumping back to the ground I turn quickly when two men yelp. Drawing my sword, I turn lowering it when it is not soldiers. “You never saw me.” they both nod and I take off again reaching a small beach already inhabited. A group of pirates lounging around on the sand. “Captain?” I take a step back ready to run again when two men turn to answer the question: one an elaborately dressed blond who looks more gentleman than pirate the other. “Edward!?”

I would recognise that beard anywhere. I push back my hood taking several steps forward, his eyes widen in recognition “You’re not dead.” I snort “Not last I checked.” He runs over poking my chest then my cheek “You’re really not dead.” I roll my eyes punching him in the stomach making him grunt “Point taken.” I grin “That’s for leaving me behind.” He laughs the two of us colliding in a hug “Can’t believe you’re not dead.” I laugh “Sorry to disappoint.”

He shakes his head “What? No. Not what I meant. Shit. Izzy. Where’s Izzy? Stede where’s Izzy?” Stede the fancy blonde looks confused “Back on the ship. Why?” Ed grins grabbing my arm “Come on.” I dig my heels into the sand “Navy kinda after my head. Town is not a good idea.” Ed frowns only pausing a moment before resuming dragging me across the beach “Nope. Come on.” I manage to tug up my hood as we practically sprint to the ship I spotted earlier and up onto the deck.

“Izzy! Get your butt out here. Iz. Iz. Izzy.” Fang, Ivan, and Izzy all come running onto deck swords drawn “Edward what the hell is going… on?” I push back my hood Izzy’s sword falling to the ground “Look who’s not dead.”

“Y/N?” I smile slightly the rest of the crew disappearing my sole focus on Izzy. “I missed you Iz.” He steps forward still looking a little shell shocked “We thought you were dead.” I shrug slightly “Had a couple close calls but still here.” I smile my stomach tying in knots as I step closer “I can leave if…” I don’t get the chance to finish his body colliding with mine “Don’t. Don’t even.” I chuckle wrapping my arms around him “You really think I would leave Iz? Spent the last two years trying to get back to you.”

His grip tightens but I gently ease his face away from my neck cupping his face in one hand smiling softly “Missed you Iz.” He returns my smile the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly “You’re really here.” I nod leaning my forehead against his “I’m here.” I grin tracing the ring around his neck “Can’t believe you still have this. Which reminds me, this belongs to you.” I tug on the cord around my neck two identical silver bands with waves pressed into the metal. I take one of putting it back where it belongs on Izzy’s ring finger “I thought I lost it.” I shake my head “You left it on the side in our cabin when you helped with my stitches. I was going to return it after the raid and well you know the rest.”

My brother clears his throat the two of us pulling apart “Wait hang on. Izzy is capable of smiling?” I bite my lip leaning down to kiss Izzy’s cheek neither of us had ever been big on PDA, but I want to remind myself he’s real. Izzy scowls at the pirate who spoke making him laugh Ed steps forward before anything else can be said “Everybody. This is my little brother/sister Y/N.” Stede smiles brightly “Stede Bonnet its lovely to meet you.” I shake his hand tentatively shocked when Ed throws an arm around his shoulders smiling lovingly at the strange man “Reunion can wait we really need to get out here.”

We all turn our attention back to the docks where a large number of navy officers have gathered combing the docks from top to bottom. Stede nods “Right. Come along everyone, get the rest of those stores below pronto.” The ship is a flurry of activity as the gang plank is raised and the sails unfurled. I remain tense till we are well out into the open sea, Izzy joins me at the prow, and I move so I can wrap my arms around his waist head resting on his shoulder “So how long has Ed been like this?”

Izzy chuckles leaning forward against the railing my arms atop his “Fair while.” I close my eyes breathing in the sea air enjoying the light breeze that ruffles Izzy’s hair “I’m sorry.” I open my eyes confused. “I thought you were behind us. I should have checked, should have been there for you.” I move my arms so they are wrapped around his chest and waist “Iz there is nothing you could have done. I don’t blame you for what happened.”

“You should.” His voice sounds so small it breaks my heart “I don’t, and neither should you. none of us knew what would happen, pirating ain’t a career known for its safety. The only thing I couldn’t stand was the fact I never got to say goodbye or tell you how much I love you or how much you mean to me.” he turns so we are face to face tears staining his cheeks which I brush away gently “Because I do love you Israel hands. Time has not changed that.”

“I love you too.” His lips are hesitant at first as they brush against mine before I draw him closer with a hand cupping his cheek. “Swear we won’t leave each other’s side ever again.” I grin “Till death do us part right?” he nods lips twitching into a small smile “Till death do us part.” I kiss him again deeper this time running my fingers through his hair while his dig into the front of my shirt pulling the two of us closer together. “This better not be a dream.” I chuckle tracing the star then the swallow tattooed on his neck “I promise its real.”

We remain together ignoring the rest of the crew who stare and whisper while we return to our previous position watching the water lapping the front of the boat while catching up on two years of tales more so from him than me catching me up on the strange crew, he has found himself with. Finally, we exhaust most topics and Izzy sighs heavily “They will want to talk to you.” I smile “I won you over, reckon I can deal with this lot.” His smile grows slightly before returning to his neutral expression “Let’s get this over with then.” We turn making our way to the centre deck the crew trying and failing to hide their curiosity. Ed saunters over grinning “You both look insanely happy. Hey, you got your ring back.” Izzy nods slightly tracing the silver band while Ed throws an arm around my shoulders “Everyone this is Y/N. Y/N this is my new crew, well our crew.” He grins at Stede “Lucius, Pete, John, Jim, Frenchie, Olowande, Roach, Swede, and Frenchie. You already know Ivan and Fang.” I nod slightly in greeting.

Olo waves while Swede looks confused “I thought they were dead.” I smile slightly “Nope.” Ivan grins “Good to have ya back.” Ed chuckles while Stede clumsily walks over stuttering over his words “Well then, how about you tell us a bit about yourself. We talk things through as a crew on this vessel. And I know I would like to know a bit more about you.” I frown “What’s there to know? I’m good with a sword, spent the last two years in a British jail cell, anyone hurts Izzy or my brother, and they get a knife in the gut.” Stede nods looking slightly alarmed “Right well I was thinking more along the lines of your favourite colour? Or perhaps hobbies?”

Izzy makes a sort of choked cough noise while I bite back a laugh “Your new to this aren't you?.” Stede beams “Yes, realatively. Now Roach is our resident cook and doctor, Izzy is first mate, Buttons is normally at the helm and Lucius is my scribe. I’m sure you will find your place soon enough; do you have any particular skills you feel may benefit the group?” Ed laughs “You kidding? They’re strong, fast, agile. Excellent with a sword and daggers, spent half their time up in the bloody rigging. Though two years out of action may have effected that.”

I grin reaching for one of my swords “Want to test that theory, Edward?” he draws his own sword spinning it artistically “Alright N/N.” Izzy sighs grumbling “You won’t beat them Ed.” I block every blow I may have been locked up for two years but that didn’t stop me from training in any way I could keeping up arm strength and agility. My muscles strain slightly but I grin putting more weight into my blows before knocking my brother to the ground sword pointed to his chest “Fuck. Really thought I could win that.” Grinning I haul him back to his feet “Don’t feel too bad about its Eddy.”

He groans rolling his eyes “Not that fucking name again.” I laugh clapping him on the back “Only if you piss me off, I promise.” The rest of the crew are grinning broadly while Ed claps me on the shoulder “So two years in prison ay?” I shrug eyes darkening “Don’t want to talk about it.”

“When did you get out?” I sigh running my thumb over my blade before sheathing it “Three days ago. I got to the coast this morning. Then you know the rest.” His face softens slightly “I’m sorry N/N.” I shrug brushing him off “It’s in the past, nothing you could have done. Just drop it.” he nods returning to his usual self “Well you catch up on some rest. Iz?” he nods motioning with his head, I follow into a small cabin immaculately tidy. A bunk along one wall just big enough for two, a writing desk, two storage chests and a small window “I kept all your stuff. Never could bring myself to getting rid of it.”

I turn pulling him into a tight hug the both of us dropping our shields “Thought of you every day.” He chuckles kissing me gently “I didn’t handle you leaving well.” I smile tugging of my jacket and laying it over the chair also removing my swords and boots “Let me guess you returned to your grouchy side.” He rolls his eyes “I’m always grouchy.” Laughing I sit on the bed pulling him down on top “Yea, but you have a grouchy side and then your super grouchy side. I know you Iz and I would have acted the same way.”

He sighs the two of us laying comfortably on the bed. He starts tracing the tattoos on my arms stopping at the largest on my bicep. An anchor with rope wrapped around it and a compass behind. “I remember when you got that.” I grin “Ed was acting all high and mighty that he got a tattoo so I had to get one that was bigger.” Izzy chuckles continuing up to my shoulder before moving to my other arm focusing on the inside of my wrist an anchor with roses wrapped around it “I regretted not getting mine more visible.”

I grin tracing the back of his shoulder blade where his own tattoo is etched. “We could get another one?” he laughs “Hmm maybe.” I shift slightly my shirt riding up “What’s that?” I freeze tugging my shirt back down “It’s nothing.” Sitting up he pushes my shirt back eyes turning cold as he examines the lines wrapping around my sides scars left from all the times the navy tried to get information out of me “Turn over.”

“Iz, I don’t think.” “Turn over.” slowly I turn almost glad I can’t see his expression as his fingers ghost over the skin. “I’m going to fucking kill them.” I turn back grabbing his hands “I’m okay Iz. I was worth more alive than dead, but they gave up trying to get information after eight months. ” I try and smile failing when Izzy looks so broken “Is your entire back…” I shrug “I have no idea. Probably. Could only see a small portion in the mirror.” Sighing I turn and pull of my shirt Izzy he traces up along the back “Fucking hell Y/N.”

“How’s my tattoo?” his hands freeze a chocked laugh coming from him “Sorry, just trying to make light of this.” His arms wrap tightly around my waist “I should have been there to protect you.” I relax into his warmth turning around so we are face to face. “Okay here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to move on from this, you are going to stop beating yourself up. I don’t blame you for anything. Look at me Iz,” he meets my eyes and I smile “Now pull yourself together. Neither of us are good with this sappy crap we can leave that to Ed and whatever him and the weird blonde have going on.”

A grin slowly spreads across his face “I don’t know what I did to deserve you Y/N Teach.” I grin rolling my eyes playfully “I love you Izzy Hands.” His mouth collides with mine the two of us falling back into the bed “We ever bump into the navy I’m slaughtering them all.” I grin kissing him again “If it makes you feel better, I already killed the two who did it.” He snorts kissing my cheek “Helps a little.” He flops onto my chest while I run my fingers through his hair.

3rd person P/O/V:

Ed walks out onto deck frowning “Anyone seen Iz?” the rest of the crew look around confused. Where is the angry man of a first mate? “Pete, Ivan? No one has seen him?”

“Nope.” “No.”

“Frenchie go check his cabin.” Frenchie nods and disappears below deck knocking gently on the door before peeking inside. Y/N and Izzy are sprawled on the bed in a tangle of limbs both sleeping soundly. Hastily Frenchie shuts the door and makes his way back to the deck “Both asleep captain.” Ed laughs “Sleeping? Really?” Stede smiles warmly “Well they have both been through rather a lot. Let’s leave them rest for a bit.”

[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.

[izzyhandswhore]

How do you think Izzy would react if his s/o was injured? Especially if it was something bad

Izzy with an injured s/o

We’re gonna say you got injured during a raid in this instance.

• Izzy’s at your side the second you hit the deck. His first response is complete rage. Whoever hurt you gets swiftly brutalised on the spot before they even realise what’s happening and their death is swift but certainly not painless. There’s no witty one-liner, no grand declaration of vengeance, just a scream of pain and a wet thud as they hit the floor.

• You’re vaguely aware of Izzy barking orders to the crew as he drags your bleeding body away. You don’t see the pure worry in his eyes every time he glances down to make sure he’s not dragging a corpse. When he finally gets you somewhere safe that worry turns to anger again.

• “You stupid prick! How the fuck have you managed that?!” He’s growling at you, but he’s also taking off his waistcoat to pillow your head and being as gentle as he can as he identifies and assesses your injuries. Once the initial adrenaline dies down, he softens just a bit and starts to reassure you that you’re going to be alright. He’s not sure if you are, the damage seems pretty bad, but he insists anyway. You have to be alright. You have to.

• “Alright, sweetheart, okay.. Sh- Just calm down and let me see. Just let me look, you’re gonna be fine. Stop whinging.”

• You can see the panic start to come over him when he realises just how bad it is. He turns and starts screaming for Ed and Roach and just about anyone else that he trusts to help you. Between each increasingly desperate cry he still hushes you and strokes back your blood-slicked hair and keeps pressure anywhere that’s bleeding. He also keeps telling you off occasionally. He can’t help it.

• The next bit’s a bit of a blur (you mostly remember pain as your body’s carried somewhere again and Izzy threatening to kill you if you dared fall asleep) but the next thing you know you’re on Roach’s table. He’s explaining to Izzy that you’ll need stitches and such but he’s not listening. “I don’t give a fuck what you need to do, just do it!” He growls, turning his attention back to you.

• Obviously things have to get much more painful before they can start to get better. Izzy gives you something to bite down on and tries his best to soothe you.. But of course that’s not his fortè. He gets Ed to help him hold you still and tells you over and over again that he knows it hurts and he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry. Eventually his voice cracks and tears spring to his eyes before he can stop it. Even through tears though, he dutifully holds your hand and keeps up his reassurances.

• Clichè, obviously, but of course he’s right there at your bedside when you wake up the next day. He’s got a very stern look on his face and grunts something like, “finally decided to join us, have you? Made a right mess of yourself..”

• He’s not fooling anyone. You remember him crying and Ed and Roach certainly won’t let him live down just how panicked he was over you. He’ll tell you to fuck off at every given opportunity but of course he nurses you back to health, even when you gently point out that that’s not his job and doesn’t have to.

• When you’re well enough to have him back in your bed he holds you like he’s scared you’ll break. He pets your hair so, so gently, kisses your forehead and finally admits how scared he was.

• “Don’t you ever fucking do that to me again, d’you hear me? You don’t die ‘til I say so.”

[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!

[letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse]

Izzy would say, "I love you" through gritted teeth whilst being unable to make eye contact. Then, once the words are out in the open and unable to be taken back, he would wait for your inevitable laugh or sound of disgust. Why wouldn't you? Who could love someone so completely wretched as him? But against all of the poisoned things he believes to be true, you would do the exact opposite. There would be no laugh. No venomous sneer. Instead, he'd be met with you encircling him in your arms. Though he tenses initially, still expecting some kind of negative reaction, your hug would continue to be...well, just a hug. And with that, the pirate would melt into your hold and perhaps, melt even further when you whispered back those three little words.

(I'm considering writing a multi-chapter Izzy fic...)

[collinrobinsonsglasses]

Hey babes!!! Love your work so much, keeping me going in this trying time (cancellation)

Ive had this silly little idea bouncing around for a while. I was thinking like Noble turned Pirate Reader x Izzy hands

maybe the reader is really good at sword-fighting and Izzy doesn't know how, with some angst but a happy ending? Im sure whatever you do will be amazing!!! Thank you so so much <3

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

Masterlist

I hope this is what you were looking for <;3 @im-a-fungi1234

Swordplay and Secrets 

After years on the job, Izzy developed a keen instinct for sizing people up quickly, based on their skill with a sword and their interactions with fellow pirates. Despite his confidence in this ability, you remained a mystery to him. The moment Blackbeard ordered the crew of Queen Anne’s Revenge to aid Stede Fucking Bonnet during his capture by the Spanish, Izzy’s attention was drawn to you. He observed as you effortlessly cut down men with your sword, displaying a level of confidence and eloquence he rarely witnessed among other pirates. 

After a week aboard Bonnet’s ship, it became glaringly obvious to Izzy that you and Jim stood in stark contrast to the other fucking morons on this crew. Both of you possessed formidable combat skills, Jim in knife fighting and you with a sword. What set you apart even more was your reserved nature. Jim appeared guarded and often simmering with anger, whereas you maintained a polite and unassuming demeanor when interacting with your peers. In contrast, the rest of Bonnet’s idiots on board had no issues drawing attention to themselves and behaving like utter twats. 

It bothered Izzy to no end that he wasn’t able to figure you out. The puzzle became a fixation for him, especially as his captain sank deeper into the clutches of Stede Bonnet, a situation beyond Izzy’s control at the moment. Recognizing the potential danger in not understanding who you were, Izzy was determined to uncover more about you. Izzy harbored a general distrust for people already, even the pirates he felt he understood. On the quarterdeck, he observed you attempting to impart a lesson on swordplay to Bonnet’s scribe on the main deck. Izzy couldn’t shake the feeling that it might be a lost cause; the scribe came across as particularly lazy. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

“Lucius, focus. I thought we were here to practice,” you chided, your words directed at Lucius, who glanced up distractedly toward the quarterdeck. 

Lucius had been the person you connected with the most on The Revenge. Aside from Captain Bonnet, he shared the most similar background with you. 

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to focus, babe, when Dizzy Izzy is up there shooting daggers at us,” Lucius grumbled, nodding towards Izzy who observed from above. “What’s his deal?” 

“Just ignore him” you urged, subtly glancing up towards Izzy. “I feel like he’s always just staring.” 

This comment elicited a smirk from Lucius. “Not at me, he’s not.” Lucius whispered. 

“Sword fighting is like dancing,” you began, ignoring Lucius’s comment. Your words caused him to audibly groan. “Each strike is a coordinated step. You have to be able to lead and follow, anticipating each move like partners in rhythm.” 

“For the record, I hate dancing,” Lucius whined. 

You attempted to teach Lucius the art of sword fighting, emphasizing the importance of balance, footwork, and precise strikes. However, it became apparent that he was quickly losing interest. He struggled with the movements, and after a few attempts, he let out a sigh of defeat. Part of you couldn’t shake the disappointment as you realized that in Stede’s crew, finding someone decent to practice sword fighting with was proving to be a challenge. You had hoped that teaching Lucius would offer an opportunity to hone your skills, but his quick disinterest was clear. Your father, a master swordsman, had instilled in you the importance of these skills. Learning to wield a sword had once only been a way of connecting with him, but now it served as a skill for your survival. 

A sense of loneliness crept in as your mind drifted back to your home, the family, and friends you left behind. You came from a noble family, a family secretly grappling with financial struggles. Outwardly you and your family always maintained the air and manners of nobility, even though you lacked the comfort of wealth. You never truly felt like you belonged in that world. The desperation within your family eventually led to your departure, seeking a way to support them. Piracy had become the only realistic option, even though it left you feeling like an outsider. Stuck between two worlds, you found peace in the civility aboard Stede Bonnet’s ship, grateful for the steady income it provided, which served as a lifeline for your family. The sole confidant in your past was Lucius, and while he understood your perspective, you couldn’t shake the suspicion that the rest of the crew wouldn’t share the same understanding. 

Suddenly, Israel Hands appeared before you and Lucius. “Fuck off, Mr. Spriggs,” the first mate spat at him. Lucius shot you a worried look but promptly followed the instructions, likely relieved to have an excuse to escape the lesson. 

Once Lucius was out of sight, Izzy turned back around, eyeing you curiously. “Who taught you sword fighting?” Izzy questioned accusingly. 

“My father,” you replied plainly. In your upbringing, the importance of listening to those stationed above you was stressed, but you learned that sometimes, answering as simply as possible could get you out of tricky situations. This was not the first time Izzy had asked you questions about your past, but he was getting more persistent. 

“Who is your father?” Izzy rolled his eyes, edging closer to you in an attempt to appear intimidating. 

“No one that you know, sir,” you replied curtly. You had no interest in divulging your background, well aware that it would only complicate matters. Witnessing how the crew reacted to Stede Bonnet’s station, you understood that maintaining a low profile was crucial. The crew’s tendency not to take him seriously reinforced your resolve to keep your head down and focus on making enough to support your family. 

Izzy was visibly getting annoyed as you continued to dodge his questions. You observed his furrowed eyebrows raise, and you sensed that an idea had crossed his mind. 

“Let’s have a duel then. If I win, you tell me who you are and where you’re from,” Izzy challenged. 

You considered the offer, a part of you hoping that a victory on your part would finally put an end to Izzy’s inquiries. 

“Fine. If I win, you stop asking,” you replied with a sigh, agreeing to the duel in the hope of putting this matter to rest once and for all. 

The clash of steel reverberated through the air as you and Izzy engaged in a fierce sword fight. The dance of blades unfolded with a relentless intensity, each parry and thrust executed with precision. For much of the duel, you seemed to have the upper hand, skillfully anticipating Izzy’s moves and countering with calculated strikes. Despite the circumstances, a sense of enjoyment crept over you. Engaging in this sword fight felt like a proper duel. It became a form of meditation, your mind fully immersed in the combat, anticipating every move Izzy might make. In that moment, all other worries dissipated, leaving only the dance of steel. 

As the battle reached its climax, Izzy found himself on the defensive, struggling to keep up. However, with a swift move, he expertly kicked a leg from under you, sending you sprawling to the ground. In that moment of vulnerability, Izzy seized the opportunity. With a swift motion, he pointed his sword at your neck, and looked down towards you with a smirk. 

A sudden surge of anxiety gripped you as Izzy’s sword found its mark, pointing at your throat. The anonymity you had enjoyed among your crewmates, the chance to start anew without the weight of a title, was suddenly under threat. The idea of revealing your true identity to Izzy filled you with a sense of dread. The prospect of disclosing your background to Izzy meant potentially forfeiting the freedom you had found among the crew. 

Izzy withdrew his sword from your neck, smoothly returning it to his side, allowing you a moment to sit back and catch your breath. After a while, Izzy, wielding his sword with gentleness, used the flat of his weapon to gently lift your chin, ensuring your eyes met his. As your eyes locked with Izzy’s, a defiant glare emanated from your stare. 

“Who is your father?” Izzy repeated. 

In a hushed tone, you admitted, “He’s a duke,” the defiance still present in your unwavering stare directed at Izzy. With a deliberate motion, you shifted his sword aside with your hand and rose to your feet. 

Izzy sneered, his expression twisted with disgust. “Oh I see. You’re just another rich twatty playing at being a pirate for fun. You’re just like Stede fucking Bonnet.”

This was the reaction you had feared all along. A surge of rage consumed you at the insinuation that your life as a pirate was a frivolous choice. In response, you turned away from Izzy, no longer willing to listen to his insults. However, his firm grip on your arm halted your departure. 

“Did I speak out of turn?” Izzy taunted with sarcasm, trying his best to sound proper. 

You weren’t sure if it was anger or lingering emotions about your family, but tears welled up in your eyes. “You don’t know anything about the sacrifices I’ve had to make,” you spat at Izzy, attempting to hold back tears, though a few managed to escape. Swiftly wiping them away with your free hand, you jerked your arm from his grip and hurriedly descended below deck. 

 ⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Izzy observed you leaving, a sense of vindication washing over him for what he said to you. He was tired of nobles deciding they wanted to be pirates on a whim. However, he couldn’t shake off his confusion at your reaction. Unlike Stede Bonnet, you didn’t exude pride, but the idea of a noble on a pirate ship didn’t make sense to Izzy. Abruptly, Mr. Spriggs materialized at his side, a presence Izzy had overlooked in his intense focus on winning the sword fight. 

“Well Dizzy Izzy, that was pretty fucked up,” Lucius started. 

“Fuck off,” Izzy grumbled, feeling uniterested in engaging in the conversation. 

Lucius paid no heed to Izzy’s dismissal, crossing his arms as he spoke. “It’s actually quite sad,” he remarked with a frown. “Their father squandered the family’s fortune through gambling, and now they send all the money they earn back to support their mother and siblings.” 

Izzy held his silence as Lucius revealed more about your circumstances, a wave of guilt washing over him for the harsh words he had directed at you. 

“They mentioned piracy was the only option they had.” Lucius concluded, walking away with a satisfied air about the point he had made. 

“Fuck,” Izzy whispered, his regret palpable, and he descended below deck in search of you. 

Izzy discovered you in Bonnet’s ballroom, seated amongst the scattered cannonballs. The dim light revealed traces of tears on your cheeks. 

Izzy approached quietly. He gestured toward the vacant spot next to you on the floor, whispering, “Can I sit?” 

You nodded in acknowledgement, but your gaze remained fixed ahead, deliberately avoiding any eye contact with Izzy. 

Izzy began, "Mr. Spriggs told me about why you're here. I said some things I regret. It's honorable that you're trying to take care of your family."

"I just chose the least honorable way to do it," you replied. Despite the weight of the conversation, a small smirk played on your lips, and Izzy was relieved to see that you weren't in tears. "If I had a choice, I wouldn't be here," you continued.

"Where would you be?" Izzy asked curiously.

"I miss my family, but I never really felt like I belonged there either," you whispered, a hint of sadness in your voice.

"Maybe you wouldn't have chosen this life, but you belong here," Izzy whispered back. "Piracy is a place for people who feel like they don't belong anywhere." 

As Izzy glanced over at you sitting beside him, an unexpected emotion washed over him. In this moment, he found himself admiring and respecting the choices you had made. Moreover, it was the first time in a long while that Izzy had encountered someone capable of wielding a sword as skillfully as he could.

Izzy chuckled, "You almost kicked my ass during that fight."

"You kicked me, literally," you replied, playfully rolling your eyes. "That's the best fight I've had in a while."

"It's because you're surrounded by a ship full of twats who wouldn't know what side of a sword to use," Izzy grumbled.

Your laughter filled the air, causing Izzy's heart to skip a beat for a moment.

"We should fight more often," you suggested with a grin. "If I win, you have to tell me something about yourself, and if you win, I'll tell you more about me."

"Deal," Izzy replied quickly, a genuine eagerness in his tone. He wanted to learn more about you, intrigued by the prospect of unraveling the layers beneath the surface. The fact that you were interested in knowing about him surprised and pleased him. People rarely asked Izzy about himself anymore; they tended to accept the rumors at face value. He hoped the future would bring more sword fights and late-night conversations with you.