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gonzo-rella · 2 years

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Talk It Through As A Crew (pt. 2) | Izzy Hands (ft. The (Reunited) Crew Of The Revenge)

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

PART 1, PART 2

Requested by: Anon

I love your work!! If you still want ofmd requests… maybe a part two to “talk it through as a crew” where everyone gets back together and everything’s settled except for Izzy. Then reader confronts Izzy? They yell at him for abandoning them and maybe even throw a punch.

But Izzy doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t yell or try to stop them. Just takes it. That pulls reader out of their anger and they’re more concerned. They reach out to him, telling him they forgive him, and that’s when he does something.

He’s furious with himself for what happened and wants the reader to be mad at him, maybe if they took it out on him, he’d feel better.

Reader comforts him?

Just angst with a happy ending, please.

Relationship(s): Izzy Hands x gn!reader (romantic), Oluwande Boodhari, Lucius Spriggs and Stede Bonnet x gn!reader (platonic)

Summary: Somehow, everything is relatively back to normal. Well, everything except things between you and Izzy. Concerned that you’re bottling things up, Stede, self-appointed relationship therapist, suggests that you talk things through with Izzy, who (surprisingly) doesn’t protest.

Warnings: Intense (one-sided) arguing (like my parents pre-divorce), description of an injury (and the worsening of said injury). (Let me know if I need to add any)

Word count: 3.1k

(A/N: To quote my post-season 1 finale Blackbonnet x reader one-shot, this fic reaches ‘‘somehow, Palpatine returned’ levels of me not explaining how on Earth we got here’. I took some creative liberties with this request, though it’s quite faithful to the request, I’d say. That previous statement isn’t to say I don’t ever take creative liberties with requests. Creative Liberties is my middle name- my full legal name is Soph Creative Liberties Writesfanfic. Also, Lucius is alive (as he should be). Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this!)

“Doesn’t look broken.” Roach shrugged, holding your wrist as he examined your hand.

“Fucking feels it.” you hissed out through gritted teeth.

“I doubt it’s broken. Maybe a bit fucked up, but not broken.” Olu (the one who had escorted you to the galley) tried. He patted you on the shoulder. His noticeable veneer of calmness wasn’t lost on you; you could tell how concerned he actually was. “No offence, but punching really isn’t your strong suit.”

You probably would have laughed if you weren’t in total agony.

“I’ll just clean your hand, bandage it up- should be fine.” Roach said nonchalantly. “If you need to punch something, you should probably use the other hand. For a while, at least.”

“Or, maybe hold off on the punching entirely.” Olu quickly suggested.

“If they’ve gotta punch, they’ve gotta punch, man.”

With that, Roach went to gather the supplies he needed, leaving you and Oluwande by yourselves.

He cleared his throat.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m pretty good, considering I just punched the rock-solid bloody mast.”

“I meant… well, you obviously didn’t just deck it for no reason, did you?” He looked at you with worry in his eyes. “Did anything bring it on?”

“I made eye contact with him for too long.” you admitted. “I don’t think I’ve got any tears left in me. So, I didn’t know what else to do to get out the… rage and other feelings.”

“Alright.” Olu nodded.

He paused and glanced between your hand and your pained face.

“I get why you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder for all this time- I really do. I’m actually surprised you haven’t, like, hit him or yelled at him or anything yet. Well, aside from when you kicked him in the shin when we first got back.” Olu stated. “But, I don’t think avoiding him and ignoring him’s doing you any good.”

He used his head to gesture to your hand, thus punctuating his point. You bit your lip.

“I think you should speak to him.”

You clenched your jaw.

“He doesn’t give a shit about what I have to say.” you muttered. “I think he made that perfectly clear when he marooned me.

“And besides,” you went on. “He already apologised to us. What else can I expect him to do? Get on his knees and beg for forgiveness?”

The thought of Izzy grovelling at your feet was more disconcerting than cathartic considering his usual demeanour, though you couldn’t say you entirely disapproved of the idea. Still, you couldn’t really expect it; he would barely (and begrudgingly) do it for Ed, but not you. It’s not like he deserted Ed on an island, after all…

“Exactly.” Olu answered. “That’s why you need to do something.”

Blinking away your tears, you shook your head. Finally, you glanced up at Olu.

“I'll just… not punch anything again.” you said weakly. Your gaze fell back down to your hand. “I’ll get over it.”

━━━━━━━━━

While Roach scrubbed at the blood on your hand, Lucius stepped cautiously into the kitchen.

“Just to warn you, Captain Bonnet wants you when you’re done with this.”

He approached you and cringed upon seeing your hand.

“Oh, that’s not good.” he commented.

“Thanks for the observation, Dr Spriggs.” you retorted dryly. “Remind me to seek your expert medical opinion the next time I get injured.”

You knitted your brows when you noticed him anxiously wringing his hands. That paired with the lack of a biting response and a glare alerted you to the fact that something was amiss. Perhaps he didn’t have the heart to fight back (which was so unlike him, you thought). You suspected it had something to do with his announcement.

“What is it?” you practically whined.

He swallowed his saliva.

“Um,” he faltered. He scratched his face. “It’s just… I really don’t think you’re going to like what the Captain has planned.”

“I rarely do.”

“I mean it.” Lucius insisted.

The grave look in his eyes near enough sent a chill down your spine.

“Lucius…” Oluwande said suspiciously.

“I can’t say what it is.” Lucius stated adamantly. “Y/N won’t come, otherwise.”

“I could just not go anyway.”

“Everyone else is going to be there!”

You looked at him incredulously. Immediately, he realised that he had fucked up. In any other situation, you supposed the fear of missing out would have compelled you to attend. That said, you had to wonder what in the world possessed him to think that that would be a selling point given the circumstances.

“So, there’s going to be an audience for this thing?”

“Well, Captain Bonnet told them to go away, but everyone wants to watch. There wasn’t much he could do.”

Picking up on your decreasing desire to leave the galley, Lucius folded his arms and sighed.

“He really wants you to go.”

You took in a deep breath and closed your eyes.

Stede was the one who rescued you from the island. Without him, you’d more than likely be dead, so, ever since he saved you, you felt indebted to him. The least you could do to repay him was this one thing, even if you were going into it knowing that you were in for a miserable ride, right? From the way Lucius was talking about whatever this was, you guessed you’d probably come out of it wishing Stede just left you to die.

“Tell him we’ll be up in a minute,” you caved in. “But, I can’t promise I won’t throw myself overboard.”

━━━━━━━━━

When you, Roach and Olu arrived on the main deck, most of your crewmates were leaning against the railing in a faux-nonchalant manner. It seemed as though they’d been told to pretend that they weren’t anticipating your arrival with bated breath. Your cheeks burned beneath all of their stares. Oluwande patted you on the back and retreated to Jim’s side, while Roach joined Frenchie and Wee John.

Your throat felt tight when your eyes landed on the only two who weren't situated on the sidelines: Stede and… Izzy. The latter of the pair stood there with folded arms. You were surprised they didn’t have to tie him up.

You looked to Stede expectantly, awaiting an explanation you were sure you could figure out for yourself.

“You need to sort things out with Izzy.”

Izzy shrugged him off when Stede clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I decked the mast, alright?” you blurted. “But, there’s nothing to sort out. He left, like, half of us for dead on an island, and it was a beyond shitty thing to do. That’s it.”

“We all… know, Y/N,” Stede admitted. “And it’s okay! I promise. This is a safe space.”

You froze. You were well aware that the other six who had been marooned with you knew about your feelings, but everyone else? You glanced around. Everyone awkwardly averted their gaze.

“Y/N?” Stede asked. He approached you, brows furrowed in concern, and rested a hand on your shoulder.

“That confession was supposed to die with me on that island he left us on.”

Stede gently seized your forearm and dragged you closer to Izzy, who was watching you with an unreadable expression; you stared back at him with wide, uncertain eyes. You swallowed your saliva and shook your head. Stede held you in place so that you were only a couple of feet away from the man you least wanted to see.

“Stede, I’m not- this is mortifying!”

“Come on, Y/N.” Stede insisted. He backed away. “Say what you need to say.”

“I don��t need to say anything.”

“You punched the mast because you looked at him, mate!” Olu argued. “You said yourself that you’re full of rage and… other feelings- now’s your chance to let it out without fucking up another part of your body.”

“You could punch him with the hand that isn’t broken.” Jim suggested.

Olu sighed and sent them a disapproving look.

You inadvertently mirrored Izzy’s stance by folding your arms, then looked down at your feet as you shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m not punching him.”

“Can I punch him?” Black Pete requested hopefully.

Not bothering to dignify his plea with a response, you rolled your eyes and looked at Stede.

“Don’t you think this is a bit pointless?” you asked. “It was a complete dick move for him to leave us on the sodding island, but it’s not his problem that…”

“Go on.” Stede prompted.

“That my… feelings were hurt.” you reluctantly admitted through gritted teeth.

“Alright- we’re getting somewhere!” Stede rejoiced, clasping his hands.

You finally looked at Izzy again.

“This’d be a really good time for you to insult this whole exercise and storm off.” you commented bitterly.

It was the first time you’d spoken to him in the three weeks you’d been back.

He just stared blankly at you, a stoic expression settled on his face. You glared at him.

“Nothing? Really? You’re going to go with ‘nothing’? Fucking typical!” you fumed. “You-you abandoned me in the middle of the fucking ocean and all I got was one lousy apology three weeks ago and jackshit else!”

When he displayed no visible reaction, you chewed your tongue irritably. An exhale escaped your nostrils.

“We’ve known each other for years, and this is still all I get?” you ranted, your voice cracking slightly. “I thought, after all this time, I’d be worth at least something to you, but I’m not even worth not being left for dead, and I’m barely worth a fucking explanation!”

Nothing. Again. Though you bit your lip, you were unable to contain another trembling huff. Tears built in your eyes, but you were too emotional to be embarrassed. Not only that but you guessed most, if not all, of the spectators were on your side (and desperate for you to tear into Izzy).

“I don’t know if I’m more of an idiot for feeling anything for you in the first place or not being able to fucking stop.”

The tears began to spill, prompting you to avert your gaze. You absently massaged your injured knuckles.

“I don’t even have the sense to hate you.” you continued, your voice now significantly quieter. “I thought I did. I really thought you’d managed to do it. But, when we got back to the ship I saw you and I realised... you can fuck me over, and I can hate that… but not you.”

You looked back up at him and were met with that same stony expression.

“Fucking say something, Iz!”

Nope.

“I deserve at least something.” you said, your voice a mixture feeble yet furious. “I know we weren’t exactly ‘friends’, but we were whatever the equivalent of ‘friends’ is for miserable pricks who are too embarrassed to consider people ‘friends’. I mean, that’s why I defended you whenever these guys’d get pissed off at you for being a dick.”

You paused expectantly. Unfortunately, you were (once again) disappointed. You groaned and marched towards him, closing the gap between the two of you. The crew leaned forward in anticipation, the majority of them appearing too excited about what they thought was going to happen. Without thinking, you struck Izzy’s chest with the palm of your injured hand, not bothering to meet his gaze or check for any sign of pain on his face (you guessed your efforts were in vain). You then balled up your hand into a fist and slammed it into his chest again. Part of you doubted it actually hurt him, which was why you decided to continue. You wouldn’t admit that you didn’t really want to hurt him. From the sidelines, you heard some satisfied muttering.

“Say something!” you demanded, interrupted by a series of sobs. You continued slamming your hand into his chest. Another series of sobs escaped your lips, while tears of frustration and pain leaked from your eyes. “Fucking say something! Stop giving me nothing after everything I’ve given you! Just… give me something!”

“Y/N,” Stede hesitated. When you didn’t look at him, he stepped forward. “I don’t think that’s very good for your hand-”

“Fuck my hand! What’s a bit more fucking pain?”

Without saying anything for roughly ten seconds, you hit Izzy in the chest with increased frequency and intensity (still not enough to injure him).

“Say… something…” you croaked.

Slowly but surely, everything- the slamming, the sobbing, the speaking- came to a stop. You rested your hand on Izzy’s chest.

Finally, you dared to look up at his face. It was the same as before- hard, unbothered. However, when you locked eyes with him, you discovered something else.

“I-Iz?”

Your voice was soft and pained, just like Izzy’s eyes.

After a moment of consideration, you cleared your throat and (without looking at Stede) declared, “I’m borrowing your cabin.”

“Oh. Alright.” Stede agreed, albeit with confusion and mild concern.

You grabbed Izzy’s wrist and began dragging him to the aforementioned location.

“Don’t fall for it, Y/N!” Lucius protested. “I’ve been given that look so many times, and not once did any of them mean it.”

“I’m not off to shag him, Lucius.” you huffed, not bothering to stop.

“Oh. Right. That’s fine then.”

When you arrived in the cabin, you let go of Izzy’s wrist. You weren’t completely sure of what you were going to say, but you knew it wasn’t a conversation that should’ve taken place in front of the whole crew (not that you had wanted their audience before).

Wordlessly, you looked up at him as you considered what you wanted to say and how you wanted to say it.

“What you did was fucked, Iz. Completely and utterly fucked.” you began, sniffling and furiously swiping at your tears. “But… I know you’re actually sorry because you let that whole thing out there happen without killing me or Stede.”

You bit your lip and, hesitantly, placed your hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not okay, but… I can forgive you for it.”

Relaxing beneath your touch, he let out a trembling sigh.

“And,” you added hastily. “I’m sorry for hitting you. It hurt me more than it hurt you, literally, but still… you don’t hit people that you… y’know.”

“You don’t leave them for dead, either.” he muttered. “Don’t apologise.”

He watched you silently, unable to tell if you’d managed to pick up on the significance of his words.

“I don’t want you to forgive me for my sake.” Izzy insisted. “I only want you to do it for yours.”

“Trust me, Iz,” you sighed, lifting up your damaged hand. “This is for me.”

He stared at it. His breath hitched in his throat. You felt him grow tense once again.

“You shouldn’t ‘ve done that.”

“I know.” you answered lightheartedly, removing your hand from his shoulder to massage the injured one in an attempt to soothe the pain. “Fucking kills.”

“No. I meant you… should’ve just punched me instead.”

“Probably.”

Izzy went silent.

“I’m kidding, Iz.” you reassured him.

“I’m not."

“Iz…”

You reached out to grab his arm but he recoiled.

“I don't deserve this.”

“Deserve what?”

“Things going back to how they were before.” Izzy replied. “You should still be pissed off at me, not forgiving me and apologising to me and joking around like everything’s alright.”

You sighed.

“I know everything isn’t alright. It probably won’t be completely alright for a while.” you stated. “But, I’m feeling kinda better now, after saying all of my shit- it’s like we’re a step closer to ‘alright’.”

After an uncertain pause, you timidly asked: “Could you… say something, please?”

Izzy ran his hand over his face. He knew exactly what you meant, and he was surprised that he’d managed to avoid explicitly expressing it.

“You mean the world to me.” he confessed. “I didn’t show it when I left you for dead, but that’s how I feel.”

“Why’d you do it, Iz?”

He hesitated.

“The idea of loving you still absolutely fucking terrifies me. I had a chance to push you away for good when I was gonna get rid of the rest of the crew anyway, and I took it. I know it’s a shit explanation-”

“I get it.” you interrupted. “It’s not a great reason to leave someone for dead. Of course I don’t agree with it- I get it, though.”

Izzy swallowed his saliva and observed you. He was deliberating, you guessed. That’s why you patiently awaited his next words.

“What do you want to do?”

Despite the vagueness of his question, you understood what he was asking.

“Well, I want us to sort things out.” you expressed. “I don’t know if we’d work together, but I’d like to try. That’s just what I want, though. If you don’t-”

“That’s what I want, too.” Izzy agreed weakly.

You sensed his reluctance.

“But?” you prompted.

“I don’t understand… after what I did to you…”

“I don’t understand either.”

You absently rubbed your cheek.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you went on. “I don’t want to force you into anything you’re uncomfortable with. But, I, for one, want to give this a chance, and I want to give you a chance. I mean, there has to be some reason I fell in love with you, right?”

You offered him a faint smile.

Tears formed in his eyes and he looked away.

Your face fell.

Before he could register what was happening, you engulfed him in a hug. Gradually, he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in the crook of your neck, which dampened upon contact. You stroked his hair as his body jolted with the quiet sobs that tumbled from his mouth. His hands gripped the back of your shirt.

Seeing Izzy in this state caught you off guard as much as it caused your heart to ache. It wasn’t every day that you saw him in pain and distress, especially to this extent, hence your cluelessness of how to comfort him beyond a hug. Perhaps that’s all he needed- you wouldn’t know.

You settled on not saying anything. It was a risky move, but everything was when you had no idea what you were doing, or what exactly had brought this on. Did you say something wrong? Or, was he just overwhelmed with everything?

When he pulled away, you didn’t resist, instead loosening your grip. You reached up and dried his tears as best you could with one good hand, then absently traced his cheekbone with your thumb.

“Thank you.” he murmured.

Those two words allowed you to understand the cause of his tears. Your worries melted away.

“Aw, Iz.” you cooed. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do. You’re giving me a chance. Not every day someone does that for me.”

“So, you’re taking me up on my offer?”

You grinned, eliciting a weak smile from him.

“Of course I am.”

#izzy hands x reader #izzy hands #oluwande boodhari x reader #oluwande boodhari #stede bonnet x reader #stede bonnet #lucius spriggs #our flag means death roach #jim jimenez #ofmd x reader #ofmd #our flag means death x reader #Our Flag Means Death

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voxxous · 2 years

Text

Smitten at Sea (ao3 link)

Words: 1,719

Warnings: Light Stabbing/Injuries/Blood, Swearing/Language, little angsty, sexual tension

Relationships: Izzy x AFAB Reader

M/M, Israel Hands/Reader, Izzy/Reader, AFAB Reader, mentions of Stede/Ed

A/N - first chapter of the fic babes. love ya! enjoy

Chapter One: Welcome Aboard!

“Yeah, of course. I’m sure they’ll welcome you with open arms. Our captain is pretty open-minded.” Oluwande chimed, following with a swift sip of his drink.

“And if they don’t oblige,” Jim’s knife danced in their hand, whirling over and under each finger, “I’ll ensure they let you on board.” You laughed in response, frantically waving your hand.

The three of you knew each other for years. You'd always lend them a hand without hesitation, and it comforted you knowing it was mutual. All of you owed each other your lives, but no one was counting. You helped Jim with quarrels concerning Jackie, Oluwande picked you up off of your feet when you dug yourself too deep into an expedition, Jim hooked you up with some gender affirming tricks, and volitionally discarded anyone who harmed you, and so forth. Fortunately, you stumbled into them at Jackie’s bar.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, but I appreciate it, more than you know,” you assured. A cheery presence illuminated the entrance of the bar. The notoriously posh captain arrived to retrieve his crewmates.

“Ah, and there’s the captain himself,” Oluwande announced, tilting his head.

“Good evening!” Stede chirped, triumph in his stance. “Oh, and who might you be, young fellow?”

“Y/N, it’s my pleasure,” you beamed, offering your hand. “You’re the Gentleman Pirate, I presume?” He accepted your offer with a handshake.

“In the flesh! And please, the pleasure is mine,” He insisted, following with a lighthearted bow. Bonnet lived up to the rumors of his name. He truly reflected pure, kind energy. Maybe with his benevolent manners, you’d reconsider Olu and Jim’s offer.

“Your crew tells me you run a nice ship,” you took a swig of your drink and continued. “They speak highly of you, sir.” Stede adjusted his vest and smiled.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” Olu laughed and nodded in affirmation. “You know, Y/N here has been living a life of piracy all on their own.” You glanced at him, puzzled. All on your own? Your endeavors as a pirate certainly weren’t without assistance from your friends.

“Oh! Wow, that’s incredible,” Stede gawked, “Doesn’t it get lonely?” His question stunned you.

“Quite a bit actually,” you stammered, blinking in response.

“We want Y/N on board with us,” Jim said, hugging you closer with a prompt swing of their arm.

“If that’s alright with you, of course, Captain,” Olu chuckled.

The slam of a wooden door from behind the bar struck the walls, startling the four of you and silencing the room. You imagined your little posse would remain uninvolved, but Jackie wasted no time correcting your thoughts. She called out with a pound to the table.

“I thought I told you motherfucker, you’re banished. What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” Bonnet stood there, wide-eyed and struck-dumb. What the hell did he do to piss Jackie off?

“And that’d be my cue to leave, as I’d like to keep my nose. Come along, crew.” You caught Jackie’s mumble as Jim hastily hustled you out of the bar.

“That fuckin idiot. Should’ve killed him the first time...”

The four of you boarded The Revenge, shockingly unharmed. Stede gifted you a welcoming speech whilst you processed what exactly you’d agreed to.

“And this is the lovely crew, in its mightiest glory! I’m sure you’ll find your place rather quickly, we were due for a new face anyway. Jim or Oluwande will introduce you, as I’ve got some business to attend to. I’ll be in my quarters shall you find yourself in any trouble.”

You nodded and thanked him.

While the captain ran off to attend to his duties and such, Jim and Oluwande informed the crew of your arrival. You remained quiet, reluctant to open up and socialize, while your two lovely friends did the talking.

“What’re we doin’ with a lady on the crew?” A man you recalled as Wee John, asked. You figured he didn’t mean any harm, but his comment didn’t sting any less. You hoped through hiding your voice, maybe they wouldn’t know.

“Y/N isn’t a lady,” Jim chimed.

“Ah, alrighty then,” Wee John said, returning to his chores on the ship. You grinned, grateful that he didn’t demand an explanation.

“Did you have to get your crystals removed?” Frenchie, who you remembered meeting once before, questioned.

“Oh, I,” You exhaled through your nose in amusement and furrowed your brows. You’d never heard a question like that before. “I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

“So, what are you then, if not a lady?” asked Black Pete, another curious crewmate.

“I’m a guy. Or just a friend, if you’d like,” You responded with a smile. Jim wrapped an arm around your back and dragged you away from the interrogations.

“Alright, alright. Enough with the questions. Let’s go find you a room, huh?”

“Feel free to make yourself at home, then. Just don’t piss off Blackbeard,” Jim advised. Your chest tightened.

“Blackbeard?”

“Yeah, he captured our ship not too long ago, but he’s infatuated with Stede,” Oluwande chuckled.

“What's up with you and Blackbeard?” questioned Jim.

Ordinarily, Jim and Olu knew the ins and outs of your life thoroughly. You’d undeniably hand your life to them, in a heartbeat; but, your conflict with the terror of all seas remained untold to Jim. Due to your solitary and insidious mannerisms, the general population of pirates did not recognize your name. Why would an unsociable pirate, like yourself, have beef with Blackbeard and his crew? You had a hunch that his distaste for you stemmed from his first mate's deep, perpetual loathing. For whatever reason Hands still wished for your death, you were entirely dumbfounded. However, he ensured you hadn't heard the last of it.

“The usual, you know,” you laughed and scratched your neck. Jim raised their eyebrows, knife in hand. “No worries. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright. We’ll leave you to it, then. Here if you need anything.” You thanked them prior to their leave. You pressed your eyelids gently with a deep sigh. Hands swore he’d have your head the next time you met. If Blackbeard hauled his little obedient pet aboard the ship, who knows what fate would befall you. Hands would undoubtedly fuck you up. Did he still resent you for nearly murdering him? You had no malicious intent. He remained unscathed in the end.

The steady swash of the waves washed away your woes, enveloping you in a state of peace. You could always rely on the sea to ground you. You closed your eyes and stood up, bracing for the worst. Even if Blackbeard’s first mate tagged along, you formerly bested him at swordplay. You could conceivably defeat him again.

You opened your door, poised and prepared to explore the rest of The Revenge.

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/N,” a voice to your left demanded. That motherfucker.

“Israel.” Within moments, he stood at your back.

“Do you remember what I said the last time we met?” He purred under his breath, his arm snaking around your neck from behind you. With the cold steel of his knife threatening your throat, even the thought of swallowing elicited fear within you. His natural scent of sweet smoke, cedar wood, and faint touch of orange wove through the air, emanating from his body. The aroma unleashed a vivid memory of your first encounter with Hands.

“And what are you going to do about it, Hands? Hmm,” you teased. “Holler for daddy Blackbeard to—“ He growled, increasing the pressure of his weapon against your throat.

“If you let another word fall from that pretty mouth of yours, I won't hesitate to cut you up, right here,” Heat gushed through your face, breath hitched. You abhorred this man, but you couldn’t hide the fervor bubbling up in your stomach. You pressed your thighs together in attempts to conceal your reaction, promptly realizing your actions only exacerbated your condition.

His keen eye would be your demise. “Oh, what’s this? Have we got a little horny bitch on board?” He spat. He released you, only to turn you around and slam your back against the wall. The crack of the boards ricocheted through the hall.

His blade fled to your jawline. With a paltry pinch, he drew a drop of blood, eliciting a whimper from your lips. He hummed with a smile. His exhilarated behavior hampered your thoughts. Did you manage to satisfy Hands? First mate, Hands? Last you checked, his muscles could form only a scowl. “It’d be a shame if your fantasies made their way to the crew, wouldn’t it?” He teased, his face so close to yours that his words tickled your skin.

The rough skin of his thumb lined your jaw, wiping the blood. He kissed the wound and swiftly followed with a fierce grip of your chin. “You will obey my every word, is that clear, boy?” A concoction of detestment and euphoria danced between the two of you, tension thick enough to send the ship plummeting into the depths of the ocean. You contested with a sardonic giggle.

“Take a caulk, twat,” you sneered. He grumbled, spouting out sporadic little noises as he made his leave to the deck. You allowed yourself to breathe, unaware you’d held your breath. In a fit of relief, your arms fell beside you, and you craned your neck back, eyes closed. Defying Hands directly? That was ballsy, even for you. The mere fact that Hands wasn’t tearing you apart for opposing him poked holes in his depraved persona.

A polite thump at your door interrupted your thoughts.

“Y/N…?” A voice chirped. The door creaked open, revealing Frenchie, a kind gentleman you recalled meeting upon your arrival.

“Good evening, Frenchie. T’sup?” You quivered, still shaken from your experience with Israel.

“Cap’n and the crew are having a meeting about our ‘devious plans’ for the upcoming week,” he explained. “And also, chores.”

“Lovely. Um, cool, just…give me a moment, would you? I’ll be right out. Thanks,” you assured. He nodded and took his leave.

An outline for their schemes and piracy, now that’d be new. You often dove head first into your endeavors, bullshitting your way through and hoping to survive. Maybe their approach would be less daunting.

#ofmd #izzy hands #crew of the revenge #ofmd fic #izzy hands x reader #oluwande boodhari #jim jimenez #stede bonnet #fanfic #our flag means death #ao3 #con o'neill #in love w izzy omfg #such a fun little man #smitten at sea

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our-flag-means-death-ao3feed · 2 years

Text

Heart Thief of the Sea

by Ailish_The_Bandit_Queen

The Quartermaster of the Revenge has been challenged by Jim to intimidate Izzy. Eventually, it becomes a bit of a game. The thing is, Izzy really does not know what to make of it. In fact, it might be a little fascinating… Izzy Hands x Genderneutral reader

Words: 4353, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Original Characters, Israel Hands, Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Stede Bonnet, Oluwande Boodhari, Jim Jimenez, Black Pete (Our Flag Means Death), Lucius Spriggs, Roach (Our Flag Means Death), Frenchie (Our Flag Means Death)

Relationships: Israel Hands/Reader, Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet, Oluwande Boodhari & Jim Jimenez, Black Pete/Lucius Spriggs

Additional Tags: izzy x gender neutral reader, Sword Fighting, Fluff, izzy may have met his match, Based on a song, touch starved izzy, Confused Izzy

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/41121654

#Our flag means death #ofmd

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gonzo-rella · 2 years

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Talk It Through As A Crew (pt. 1) | Izzy Hands (ft. The (Marooned) Crew Of The Revenge)

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

PART 1, PART 2

Relationship(s): Izzy Hands x gn!reader (romantic), the Crew (Oluwande, Buttons, Wee John, Black Pete, Roach and the Swede) x gn!reader (platonic)

Summary: Oluwande realises that you’re incredibly upset after being marooned. To pass the time and make the best of a bad situation, he suggests that you use your former captain’s policy, which leads to a revelation the crew hadn’t quite anticipated.

Warnings: OFMD season 1 finale spoilers, typical pirate stuff, angst with a bittersweet ending, something you could consider borderline-suicidal ideation (I wouldn’t say it’s too bad, though). (Let me know if I need to add any)

Word count: 2.4k

(A/N: I absolutely adore this fic- it’s definitely one of my favourites on this blog, and hopefully you’ll agree. I feel like this premise of the crew talking through their feelings after being marooned would also make a great Blackbonnet (or possibly Steddy Hands) x reader story, so let me know if you’d like me to write that. This is an alternate version of this imagine. Well, it’s alternate in the sense that it also takes place during the finale, but portrays the opposite thing that could have happened. I might write a sequel to this where the reader reunites with Izzy (if you’d like to see it, let me know), but I don’t have an idea worked out yet beyond Bad Blood by Taylor Swift vibes. [Insert obligatory begging for OFMD requests])

The Revenge had shrunk into a dot on the horizon by now.

Everyone appeared so defeated, awaiting death either by sprawling out on the pathetic excuse for an island or sulking (or both). No one wanted to speak. It would have been silent were it not for the sea.

Tears welled in your eyes and a lump formed in your throat. Everything, the conflict, the revenge, the betrayals, had culminated in this, and you weren’t sure that you could hold it in any longer. Even after being part of Stede’s crew, the thought of crying in front of the others was mortifying. They were in the same situation as you, and none of them were crying about it, were they?

Still, what you wanted and what you needed were completely different things. That’s why you finally allowed your sobs to escape. You buried your face in your hands, which were immediately dampened by your tears (and the sheen of sweat that had formed thanks to the harsh rays of the sun).

One by one, the crew looked over at you, something you didn’t notice because your eyes were covered and you had your back to most of them..

“Are they crying?” Wee John asked in a hushed voice- an attempt at one, anyway. You didn’t bother wondering who he was speaking to.

After around a minute, your sobs dissolved into sniffling and whimpering. You peeled your palms from your face, dried them on your shirt then used the backs of your hands to wipe away your tears and snot.

Oluwande examined your face (or what he could see of it), though he was more than aware that you were upset (and he could hazard a guess as to why). After a moment of thought, he rested a hand on your shoulder and gently squoze it. It silenced you for a moment, taking you by surprise. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Buttons shuffle over to you, situating himself at your side.

“Don’t worry yourself, mate,” Buttons assured. “We won’t eat you first, will we, lads?”

Well, it was a very on-brand attempt to ease your suspected worry. Black Pete, Roach, Wee John and the Swede muttered a series of noncommittal responses.

Oluwande sent him a glare.

“I don’t think that’s exactly what they’re crying about, Buttons.”

“Oh, so they’re fretting about us only having seawater to drink?”

“I’m pretty sure they’re upset about the… general hopelessness of this situation.”

“That’s fair enough. I, myself, am primarily concerned about the fact that the chances of us all getting out of this with our lives and our flesh intact are looking pretty slim at the moment.”

Oluwande went to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Eat me first.” you mumbled monotonously. “I don’t care.”

Oluwande swallowed his saliva, his eyes wide with worry. Sure, things were looking beyond bleak, but no one else had offered to sacrifice themself like that, especially in such a casual tone.

“Y/N...” he faltered. “I know things are looking pretty dire right now, but-”

“I don’t care about that, either. Not really, anyway.”

The crew glanced around at one another in confusion, though you only noticed Buttons and Olu exchanging a puzzled look

“What’s troubling you, then?” Buttons questioned.

You tensed up at that moment. Oluwande felt you stiffen beneath his touch.

For a moment, nothing happened. No one spoke. You glanced over to Oluwande as he turned to face Black Pete, Roach, the Swede and Wee John, who all knitted their brows as he looked around at them expectantly.

“Come on, guys.” Olu urged.

“What?” Black Pete asked in a cranky tone, finally sitting up.

“Get in a circle.”

“What are you on about?” Roach questioned.

“We’re gonna talk it through as a crew.”

Your shoulders sank, but you turned to face the rest of the crew anyway. Buttons did the same.

"Talk what through?” the Swede said cluelessly.

He crawled over to join the almost-circle. Roach moved over and sat beside him.

“Well, we’re all in the same shit situation, but I’m guessing some of us are thinking about different things.” Olu shrugged. “So, why don’t we talk about it? It might make us feel a bit better, and that’s all we can really do right now.”

Black Pete groaned and shuffled over to beside Roach.

“Oh, alright, then.” Wee John conceded with a huff. He wedged himself between Buttons and Black Pete.

The crew (or what was left of it) sat there with similar solemn expressions. At first, the only sound (aside from the sea) was your sniffling as you continued to brush away your tears. Oluwande glanced around at everyone.

“Um...Does anyone have anything they want to share?” he began uncertainly. He lacked the confidence of Stede, who would have persisted with this exercise without acknowledging his crew’s noticeable bewilderment and lack of enthusiasm.

All he received were blank stares, or, in the case of you and Black Pete, a complete avoidance of meeting his gaze.

“Why don’t I go first then?” Olu suggested. He took in a deep breath and drummed his fingers against the ground. He focused on them as he spoke.

“Jim... and Frenchie are both still on the ship,” Olu explained. “I mean, I think they are. We don’t really know what’s going on. All we know is we were left here, probably to die, and they weren’t. I’m worried something bad could happen to them, too.”

You understood where he was coming from. While you were all certain on some level that most, if not all, of you were going to die on this island, no one knew what would happen to Jim or Frenchie. Not knowing was far worse than knowing, at least that’s what you thought.

“Can’t be anything worse than this, can it?” Roach shrugged.

“Of course it can.” Black Pete scoffed. “Are you forgetting they're on the same ship as one of the deadliest pirates to ever live, and the dick who… gleefully rowed us out here to die?”

You bit your lip and scratched your cheek uncomfortably.

“I thought Blackbeard was nice now.” the Swede chimed in.

“Leaving us stranded in the middle of the ocean isn’t what I’d consider ‘nice’.”

Oluwande sighed. A melancholy silence fell over you.

“If I managed to survive being part of Blackbeard’s crew, odds are Jim’ll be alright.” you commented. “I’m not so sure about Frenchie. Hopefully, they’ll both be okay.”

“I hope so too.”

Olu cleared his throat.

“Who wants to go next?”

Black Pete sighed.

“I’ll go.” he reluctantly volunteered.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, mate.” Olu insisted, picking up on Pete’s hesitance.

“No, it’s fine.” Pete assured, waving his hand dismissively.

“Alright, then. Go ahead.”

“Well, as you all know, Lucius has been missing since last night.” Black Pete began. “After what Blackbeard did to us… fuck knows what happened to him.”

“What are you guys worrying about other people for?” Wee John probed.

“We know what’s gonna happen to us.” Pete answered grimly. “All we really have to worry about now is what’s happening to the people we… love.”

You clenched your jaw and huffed. Unfortunately, the others heard the hoarse rumble.

“Ah, so that’s what’s troubling you.” Buttons concluded.

“What?”

“Love.”

It wasn’t just the sun that was heating up your cheeks now, was it? You looked down as you rubbed your forearm anxiously.

“No…”

“Well, that was the worst lie I’ve ever heard.” Black Pete snorted.

You didn’t bother to argue. Somehow, you were already neck deep in a hole you’d managed to dig in less than 10 seconds.

“Aye,” Buttons agreed. “They’re not even denying it.”

“I didn’t know you were having any… love problems, Y/N.” Oluwande commented in a gentle (and somewhat intrigued) tone.

“Who is it?” Wee John blurted.

“No.”

“You can’t leave it at that, though! Especially when you were crying about it a minute ago.”

“They don't have to answer if they don’t want to.” Olu argued in an attempt at mediation.

“Can we guess?” Roach requested.

“Why do you even care?” you snapped, raising your hands in exasperation

“There’s nothing else to do.”

“My personal problems aren’t something ‘to do’, Roach.”

“Come on. Me and Olu said our things.” Black Pete tried

You groaned and ran your hand over your face. He made a decent point. It must have taken a lot for them to open up like that, and you refusing to do so wasn’t exactly in the spirit of things. Besides, you’d probably be dead in a few days anyway. The least you could do is provide them with something they would find vaguely entertaining.

“Fine.” you conceded through gritted teeth. “I’ll answer your questions if you promise not to be total bellends about it.”

They all uttered a kind of agreement. You sat there stiffly for a moment, attempting to blink away the fresh tears burning your eyes.

“So, who is it?” Wee John repeated.

“Just so we’re clear, you’ve all agreed that, if even one of you is a bellend about the next word that comes out of my mouth after this sentence, I’m not going to elaborate any further.”

You suspected they figured out which of them you were directly addressing with that warning.

“Just get on with it, man.” Roach ordered.

You took in a deep breath and scratched your neck.

Part of you hoped they didn’t hear you when you reluctantly mumbled, “Izzy.”

“Izzy as in… Izzy Hands?” Black Pete questioned incredulously.

“Mhm.” you hummed, as though the admission caused you pain. Your fingertips trailed to your forehead, which you massaged out of impulse.

Silence. It was better than mockery, you supposed. Then again, it didn’t feel quite right that you’d just confessed such a thing to them, of all people, and not been bombarded with a series of curious, insensitive remarks. You finally dared to look up at them and were alarmed to realise they were all staring at you with wide eyes. It appeared as though at least Black Pete and Wee John were about to explode (presumably due to the myriad of the aforementioned curious, insensitive remarks they were trying their best not to let slip off their tongues).

“I know.” you sighed pitifully.

Your eyes darted downwards as you gloomily swiped at the tears spilling from your eyes. The silence persisted. You glanced up at Pete and groaned.

“Go on. Say what you have to say.”

“I… Um… What the hell?”

“Fair enough.”

You glanced around.

“What about you, Olu?”

He watched you anxiously, as though you had just threatened him.

“Uh…” he hesitated. “No disrespect or anything but, like… why?”

You decided that focusing on the sky was better than making eye contact with the group of horrified and/or baffled men. After all, it was easier to think of what to say when you cast aside their intense stares.

“I know he’s a total prick. But, I guess, when I used to work on Blackbeard’s ship, something… developed.” you replied. “The feelings are just there and I don’t exactly know why, to be honest.”

“So, these feelings are still there,” Olu wondered. “Even after everything he’s put us all through?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t completely fucking despise the bastard.”

Oluwande was unsettled by your sinister, pained glare, which you directed at your lap.

“God, I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Of course I am, Olu.” you sighed. “You’d have to be an idiot to fall in love with a prick who doesn’t give a shit about you.”

A different kind of silence fell over you, but you didn’t bother to question it until-

“Do they not know?” Black Pete whispered.

“Know what?”

“I don’t think they know.” Roach responded.

“Know what?”

Black Pete exchanged a glance with Roach, but you noticed that everyone looked a tad uncomfortable, if not bewildered.

“Izzy totally had something for you.” Black Pete stated.

You let out a humourless laugh and shook your head.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure he did.” He paused before continuing, “Lucius thought so. Said Izzy had a soft spot for you.”

You froze and swallowed your saliva.

“I know he preferred me over you guys, but if this thing was mutual,” you argued. “He wouldn’t have done this to me.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. Once again, tears built up in your eyes. You let them spill. At least they weren’t accompanied by sobs, you thought.

“I don’t care that he doesn’t… like me back,” you stated weakly. “It just really fucking stings, y’know? After everything I let myself feel about him, it turns out I mean so little to him that he could just leave me in the middle of nowhere to die.”

Oluwande patted you on the shoulder again. You were taken by surprise when Buttons clapped a hand on your shoulder, too.

“Love is a cruel mistress.” Buttons proclaimed with a heavy sigh. “Perhaps a crueller mistress than the sea, and definitely a crueller mistress than that wee angry fella. Mustn’t let it get you down, though, especially since you’re probably counting down the days ‘til you kick the bucket, so to speak.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Besides,” Black Pete added. “You could do a lot better than Izzy.”

“Yeah, way better, mate.” Olu agreed.

A small smile tugged at your lips.

“You know, if we were to ever get off this island,” Roach said with a smirk. “I wouldn’t mind tracking Izzy down, maybe hack off another one, or eight, of his toes”

The Swede, Buttons and Wee John sent him a puzzled look

“One for each of us,” he clarified. “and an extra one for you, Y/N.”

They nodded in understanding and agreement. You chuckled.

“Count me in.” Black Pete shrugged.

“What is it with pirates and revenge?” Olu questioned with narrowed eyes.

“Are you saying you don’t wanna hurt Izzy?” Wee John said incredulously.

“Of course I wanna hurt him, after everything he’s done. If it weren’t for him, everything would still be alright. Even Ed’d probably be fine, too.”

“So, we’re agreed?” Roach looked around at all of you. “If any of us gets out of this, Izzy’s totally fucked?”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. It ached, but it was genuine.

“I like the sound of that.”

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fanoftheimagines · 2 years

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Rope Burn

Part of the Teal & Orange Writing Challenge

Pairing: Oluwande Boohari/Jim Jimenez/Reader

Prompts: “We don’t like seeing you in pain.”

Reader Gender: Gender Neutral

CW: pre-canon, pre-relationship, yearning, injury, cute hand-wrapping, Jim uses they/them pronouns even though its pre-canon, burying our feelings deep inside

Word Count: 710

Summary: When you get hurt, Olu and Jim help make sure you’re okay.

Pre-Canon

A/N: Me writing OFMD reader insert: Fine, I’ll do it myself.

Masterlist

Teal & Orange Writing Challenge Masterlist

It was a pretty ordinary morning on the Revenge. The cool early air felt good against your skin, especially after the rather humid night. The sun was slowly rising higher, the sunlight shining pleasantly on your face. You smiled at Jim and Olu across the ship. They were standing by the railing, overlooking the ocean.

The wind began to pick up. Everyone scrambled as the sails caught in the wind and you started to gain speed. You quickly grabbed a rope to lift one of the sails at the foremast. The rope was coarse in your hands as you pulled it down.

The sail was almost fully raised when your grip on the rope slipped and, before you could correct it, a sudden gust of wind made you lose your grip completely. The rope ran across your palms quickly, burning as it went. The sail fell open on your side of the ship. You hissed at the sudden pain and instinctively let go.

Olu and Jim were at your side a few seconds later. Jim grabbed the rope and raised the partially fallen sail while Olu gently pried your hand open from where it had curled in on itself. The skin was torn and bloody. Bits of rope and filth were stuck in the wound. It burned as the wind blew across it.

“Let’s get this taken care of.” He said, looking up at you then Jim. Jim nodded and gestured toward their room. They’d meet you there.

Olu led you to their room. He lightly nudged you onto Jim’s bed before rustling around the room. You took the quiet moment to look him over. The golden sunlight pierced through the boards and lit him up gorgeously. He was soft in all the right places. He was an absolute dream if you were honest. His classic orange beanie made you feel at home, safe. That feeling in your chest – the warm, fuzzy one you got whenever you thought about Olu or Jim – rose back up again. It always did, despite how much you tried to push it down. It’s not that it wasn’t pleasant – it very much was – but you were scared to address it. It could change everything.

Olu made a small triumphant noise then turned to you holding a brown glass bottle, a rag, and a piece of spare cloth.

“This’ll sting a bit.” He said quietly as he reached for one of your hands.

As he said that, the door opened and Jim slipped in. They took off their hat and sat next to you. They raised an eyebrow at Olu.

He rolled his eyes and poured some of the disinfectant onto your palm without further warning. You weren’t ready for the sudden sharp sting. You gasped and grabbed Jim’s hand. They squeezed it carefully, mindful of your wound. Olu took the rag and began to slowly clean out the grit and grime. Each swipe had you groaning, whimpering, and leaning further into Jim’s side. It was nice to allow yourself this moment of safety. Not having to pretend that the pain didn’t bother you or that it didn’t even hurt in the first place. They were safe.

When your hand was clean, Olu passed Jim the makeshift bandage and started cleaning your other hand. They were both incredibly careful and tender as they worked. Jim slowly wrapped the cloth around your palm. Their presence distracted you from what Olu was doing with your other hand. You gently rested your cheek against their shoulder and slightly tucked your face into their hair and beard. Their coat was surprisingly comfortable to rest your chin against. Their thumb gently caressed your knuckles as they finished pinning the bandage in place.

“Thank you,” You whispered, glancing at Jim then Olu, who was tying off his bandage.

“Yeah,” Olu shrugged, as if it was nothing, “course. We just…” He glanced at Jim, “We don’t like seeing you in pain.”

Jim nudged you as if to say, “What he said.”

You smiled. They made it so easy to fall for them, even if you were really trying to keep the feeling platonic. You truly cherished their friendship. You’d take it in any form, despite the feelings buried deeply in your chest.

Do not copy to another site. Ask for permission before bookbinding. I EXPLICITLY FORBID ANYONE FROM FEEDING MY FICS TO AI. All rude comments will be blocked and deleted.

Buy me a coffee?

#oluwande boodhari imagine #oluwande boodhari x reader #jim jimenez imagine #jim jimenez x reader #our flag means death imagine #our flag means death x reader #gn!reader #romantic!reader #gnxm #gnxenby #polyam #my fanfic

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fanoftheimagines · 2 years

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The Ordeal of Being Known

Part of the Teal & Orange Writing Challenge

Pairing: Oluwande Boohari/Jim Jimenez/Reader

Prompts: “It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Reader Gender: Gender Neutral

CW: insomnia, implied trauma, thoughtfulness, trust issues, Google-translate Spanish, pre-relationship, vulnerability, the terrifying ordeal of being known, fluff

Word Count: 874

Summary: When you’ve got insomnia, Olu and Jim help you get some long-needed sleep.

A/N: I have sleep issues and I am so desperate for a full night of sleep. I would absolutely love to have Olu and Jim to help.

Masterlist

Teal & Orange Writing Challenge Masterlist

Sleep and you had never gotten along. The slow roll of the sea was often enough to help lull you to sleep, but sometimes, no matter how tired you were, you just couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Not even the Captain’s nighttime stories helped. This was one of those nights. You’d spent hours rolling back and forth in your hammock, just trying to get comfortable enough to get some form of sleep. But it never came.

And finally, you just decided to give up. You were never going to get any sleep with everyone else’s little snores and murmurings. Careful not to make too much noise, you climbed out of your hammock and tip-toed out of the room.

The nighttime air was pleasantly cool, especially in comparison to the oppressive sun and stifling heat yesterday. It was nice against your skin and helped relax some of the tension in your body.

You leaned against the railing and took a deep breath. Your forearms rested on the railing and your eyes were closed. Buttons was somewhere on the poop deck talking to Karl. His voice was just barely audible from your place at the opposite end of the ship. It was quieter out here, with only the ocean and Buttons making any noise.

You laid your forehead against the railing too. You just couldn’t let your guard down surrounded by all those people. It didn’t matter if they were your crew, or that you spent every waking moment together, or that you trusted them with your life. You just didn’t trust them enough to sleep. Maybe it was the vulnerability of it all, the having to let your guard down long enough to get a full night’s sleep. The only people on the entire ship that you even felt close to that level of trust with were Jim and Olu.

A wave of exhaustion hit you. You wanted to sleep so badly. Maybe you could sleep outside tonight…

Footsteps and the sound of wood creaking had your eyes shooting open. You darted up and turned to the doorway. The second you saw Olu’s familiar figure come into view, you deflated, turned back around, and leaned against the railing again.

“Hey,” Olu said quietly, “it’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

You nodded and sighed. “Can’t.”

He hummed and came up next to you. “Anything I can do to help?”

“No, not unless you’ve got an extra room somewhere I don’t know about.” You joked, resting your head on your upper arm to look over at him.

He didn’t respond at first. It was clear he was thinking – it was written all over his face. He smiled slightly. A cute little smile like he had the perfect idea. He tapped your arm.

“Come on,” he said, nudging you again. You raised an eyebrow. “Well?” You rolled your eyes and stood, motioning for him to proceed.

You followed him back into the dark ship. The halls weren’t lit this time of night, so you walked behind Olu almost blindly. He stopped in front of Jim’s door. You raised an eyebrow at him again. He couldn’t be serious? Could he? Jim liked their privacy. You couldn’t just barge in because of your insomnia.

He knocked twice, ignoring your whispered protests. There was a heavy pause. Then, the door cracked open and Jim’s sleep-filled face appeared.

“¿Qué quieres?” What do you want? Their voice was wonderfully gravelly – you purposefully ignored the stirring butterflies in your stomach at the sound.

“Can we stay in here tonight?” Olu asked, “Roach is snoring again.”

Jim looked you both over before nodding and opening the door wide enough for you both to pass through. Olu went straight to the spare bed and started getting comfortable. Meanwhile, you just stood in the middle of the room, unsure what to do with yourself.

Jim placed a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, ¿qué pasa?” What’s wrong? They asked softly.

You instinctively looked down at your hands. You weren’t used to this vulnerability, this level of trust. But you trusted them so much. “Insomnia. Haven’t had a good night in a few days.”

Jim glanced over at Olu. “What can we do to help?”

You shrugged. Honestly, you had no idea. Nothing had ever really helped. “Maybe just being here will help.” You paused. This was the feeling. The terrifyingly welcome ordeal of being known. Of being vulnerable with the people you care so deeply about. “I can’t sleep when I don’t feel safe.” The you make me feel safe went unspoken.

Jim hummed with a small smile as if they understood. With gentle guiding hands, they led you to the extra hammock hanging in the middle of the room. “Sleep. We’ll be here all night. Not going anywhere. Right, Olu?”

Olu looked soft in this light and perfectly sleepy. “Always.” He mumbled, already starting to doze, “We’re right here if you need us.”

“Thank you,” You whispered before climbing into the hammock.

It didn’t take you long to fall asleep after that. Jim’s comforting scent and both of their tired breathing and the steady rock of the ship lulled you to sleep. Maybe all you needed was the comfortable presence of the two people you trust most in the world.

Do not copy to another site. Ask for permission before bookbinding. I EXPLICITLY FORBID ANYONE FROM FEEDING MY FICS TO AI. All rude comments will be blocked and deleted.

Buy me a coffee?

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fanoftheimagines · 2 years

Text

Teal & Orange Writing Challenge

Description

This is a writing challenge for me to practice writing Jim and Oluwande from Our Flag Means Death. The goal is for each fic to be around 500 words. They are going to be with either a gender neutral or non-binary reader.

Back to Writing Challenges

Back to Our Flag Means Death Masterlist

Characters

Oluwande Boodhari

Jim Jimenez

Note: All of these are going to be some form of a polyamorous relationship.

Prompts (5/35)

“You aren’t the only one with secrets.” (Secrets)

“I would very much like to kiss you right now.” (This is Happening)

“We don’t like seeing you in pain.” (Rope Burn)

“I was always jealous of them and it took me some time to realize why.”

“It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” (The Ordeal of Being Known)

Tucking a strand of hair behind your lover’s ear (Royal Blue)

“Do you want me to keep watch?”

Touching their elbow to get their attention

“This is nice, but I’m sweating like a dog.”

“I’m just not used to having people like this.”

“I like spending time with you.”

“I don’t mean to bother you.” “You’re not.”

Watching them sharpen knives with fascination

Showing them how to throw knives

#blog #our flag means death imagine #our flag means death x reader #oluwande boodhari imagine #oluwande boodhari x reader #jim jimenez imagine #jim jimenez x reader

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voxxous · 2 years

Text

Smitten at Sea (ao3 link)

Words: 1,758

Warnings: Stabbing/Injuries/Blood, Swearing/Language, little angsty, sexual tension

Relationships: Izzy x AFAB Reader

M/M, Israel Hands/Reader, Izzy/Reader, AFAB Reader, mentions of Stede/Ed

A/N - chapter two! apologies for the wait. also i didn't do a perfect spell check. i hope you guys enjoy the story :)

Chapter Two: Hello, Old Friend.

“Alright crew! Good news,” Stede bellowed, gathering the crew’s attention. He hopped onto the quarterdeck and continued. “With the arrival of our new member and your ungodly complaints, we are reassigning duties for the ship.” A chorus of groans erupted from your mates. “In addition, Buttons here spotted a hefty looking ship on the horizon, headed straight for us. This is our chance to show em what we got! There will be death, and pillaging, and other serpentine pirate behavior.”

You waited sedentary on some stairs near the forecastle, watching Stede toddle around to instruct your fellow crew mates. You, the last of the crew to be assigned, pondered what job Stede would give you.

“Ah, the best for last,” Stede cheered with a grin. “Before I send you off, I was wondering what your skill set consists of?” You thought for a moment, recalling your past jobs and journeys.

“I’m good with knives… I’m quite skilled with a pencil, as well. I’m a decent pickpocket.” You paused. “I suppose any delicate work with my hands.”

“Well! That works out dandy, doesn’t it?” He patted your shoulder and waved at you to follow him.

“Roach here requested a cooking assistant. You’ll support him with whatever chores he needs; cutting, chopping, fetching utensils, and other chef-like duties.” Stede explained, gesturing to the kitchen. Roach, chopping away at some grub, glanced up and waved. You smiled in return.

Stede then led you to his own quarters. Before you towered shelves of beautiful books, more than you’d ever seen on a ship. Pirates you’d known weren’t literate or keen on augmenting a library. Your heart lit up.

“Behold! My cherished depository. Are you a reader?” He asked.

“Absolutely,” you marveled under your breath, allowing your fingertips to kiss the spines. You turned to him, with the passion of suns gleaming through your eyes. “May I?”

“Of course.” Stede grinned. “Be my guest! You’re welcome to peruse my collection at your leisure. Don’t be a stranger.”

Your hands slipped in between the leathers and papers, plucking a book from the shelves. Stede inhaled and brought his hands together. “Well! I will leave you to it. I’ll retrieve you when the time comes,” he gently touched your arm, “I’ll assign you a few more jobs later.”

The tussle of the curtains confirmed his leave. Your attention returned to the book. Flipping through the tattered paper, a loose page slipped out, a feather to the floor. You picked it up. The book featured a tawdry image of Blackbeard. Quite a poor depiction of him. The cries of the floorboards interrupted your inspection. You turned to search the curtains at the entrance. Hands crept into the library.

“So, you’re a fan of this tatty ol’ rubbish, huh?” He chafed, sauntering to your side.

“I relish an expertly crafted story. A good writer can conjure stories beyond your dreams,” you lauded. He hummed. You felt his breathing tighten up before he cautiously pressed himself to your side, curiously peering over your shoulder.

“Of course, but Bonnet’s…” He snaked his hand to examine the lone page. His fingers quivered.

“Do you recognize this?” You questioned. What about this drawing would bother Israel? Sure, the book pictured Blackbeard inaccurately, but nothing struck you as out of the ordinary.

“Just recalling better days.”

“Avast ye!” called Buttons from down the hall. Hands and you tensed up, closing any previous distance you held. “We’re approachin’ the enemy ship. Best you prepare to board the vessel.” Buttons retreated without a moment to waste. Hands cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. He promptly removed himself from your side.

“Follow me. Might as well show you how we, as pirates who’ve earned our titles, address these blokes, unlike your pathetic attempts at raids,” he jeered. You scoffed, returning the book to its home before trailing behind Hands.

You arrived on the main deck. The majority of the crew gathered around the capstan, eagerly awaiting instructions from their captains. Curiosity tugged at your thoughts. What kind of pirates or folks of the sea would you meet? These parts of the sea didn’t often receive new travelers.

“Alrighty then! Right on time,” Stede gleamed. Blackbeard clasped his hands together, leaning against the railings of the boat near the freshly prepared ladder.

“Ivan, Izzy, Fang, Y/N, Jim,” He announced, gesturing accordingly. “The five of you are with me. As for the rest of you, protect the ship. Keep watch, and be cautious. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”

“I’ve never had to consider crewmates in battle,” you confided in Fang under your breath. He smiled and leaned towards you in response.

“No worries, I’m sure you’ll catch on. Just don’t stab us. You’ll be fine,” he paused with a giggle. “I’m a bit rusty myself,” he admitted, gently nudging you. You appreciated his reassurance. He gifted you a bit of mercy when Blackbeard initially caught you all those years ago. You noted his genuine kindness in the back of your mind, a promise to repay him.

You hadn’t run into Blackbeard aboard the ship prior to this. You had difficulty analyzing his character. Despite your agnosy, you had no doubt he’d be reliable. Ivan and Fang endured perilous battles, and Jim could slaughter a crew themself, alone. Izzy, however? He knows his shit, sure, he can slice and dice. Kill a few foes, perhaps. He struggles to manage his anger, exposing him to his enemies. Blackbeard’s presence centers him. You learned this the hard way when you, whilst Blackbeard ran some errands, decided to screw around with Iz.

The five of you set off after Blackbeard, squeezing onto a dingy, to kindly greet your fellow sea-goers with a soft swipe of a sword. As you and your crewmates approached the vessel, the closeness granted you a clear view.

“I don’t think these fellas are any old pirates, mates,” you trembled. Izzy turned to you and rolled his eyes.

“And who do you reckon they are then, huh?” He mocked. You scolded under your breath, leaning closer to ensure those on board wouldn’t catch your words.

“This is Bonny’s boat, you moron.” You peered up the sides of the vessel, the sun pinning you down, like prey of the sky.

Crossing paths with Bonny traveling solo? By herself, you could take her on. Sure, she held an impenetrable resentment for you, but she wasn’t invincible. She and her crew introduced an entirely new complication.

Calico Jack Rackham.

Blackbeard’s potential ignorance of Rackham's presence tickled you. Teach’s general expertise of the sea was apparent, but he didn’t know everything. Only your faith in his master plan comforted you. In the unfortunate circumstance that Calico surprised Blackbeard, did that mean the plan would change? You envisaged it wouldn’t, but you despised altered plans (hence your spontaneous adventures).

Edward boarded the ship first. You had difficulty making out the mumbles from the ladder. The last of your crew, you heaved your body over the damp wooden rails, with a kind hand from Ivan. You thanked him.

“It appears some of your friends invited themselves along. What have you done with yourself, Blackbeard? The badass pirate I knew would never permit these leeches to feed off his fame.” Calico berated. Rackham, Bonny, Read, and the rest of their sailors stood armed, knights willing to die for their cause. You counted them internally, finding you and your friends outnumbered. The disparity alarmed you. They didn’t hold an extravagant advantage, but it counted for something.

“You best watch your words, Jack,” Israel bit, his voice struck with venom. His hand edged towards his sword. “He isn’t here to fuck around.” Calico coughed out a laugh.

“Aww, Izzy, so brave. Always ready to risk his life for his beloved Captain. You’re weak, Blackbeard!” Calico drew his sword and snarled, “Did you visit just to cower behind your pets, or are you going to fight me like a man?”

Blackbeard’s fury bubbled up, evident on his face. “Why don’t you shut your mouth before I sew your fucking lips together.” The strain in his voice marked that threat as a promise. The last time you saw the two together, they were pals. Clearly, you missed a chapter or two.

“Don’t his words get to you, Captain,” Ivan said to Blackbeard under his breath. “He’s just trying to rile you up.”

While Ivan’s attempts to comfort him were well appreciated, you and your crew sunk yourselves into this conflict deeper than an abandoned ship on the sea floor.

Jim seized their opportunity to strike, first to make a move, diving straight for Rackham. Violence erupted like a firework. Spurts of blood and the clangor of swords incessantly ignited amongst your allies and foes. Your first showdown with your crew. Why hold back? You drew your knives. Without a moment to spare, a new metal collided with yours.

“This new look of yours isn’t fooling anyone,” Bonny taunted, increasing the pressure against your blades. She grinned, “We all know that you’re no pirate,” she smiled, taking a swing. You countered with a dip and a gouge to her thigh.

“You’re as poor a fighter as you are a friend,” you coughed out, twisting to jump behind her. “I see you have yet to hone your skills in swordsmanship.” She swiftly adjusted and forced you into a defensive position.

“Oh, of course not, darling. I’ve been waiting for the day to find you again. But, how lucky,” an unknown opponent jabbed at your back. Your chest tightened. She could only grin. “You came to me!” Bonny raised her sword, bustling with glee.

“Ah, you’re still a backstabber.” You chuckled and braced for impact, eyes squeezed tight, but only a thump from the ground followed. You opened your eyes to see Izzy, raucous as ever. You hated the bloke, but you admired his competence.

“Come on twat, can’t have you dying yet.” Before you could thank him, another foe trailed after him, equipped to kill. You grabbed Izzy’s wrist and yanked him aside. “The fuck?” He hollered. You ignored him and thread a gash into the enemy’s chest.

You wasted no time redirecting your attention to the remains of Bonny’s crew, back to back with Izzy. The two of you danced a ballad of bloodshed. You took a few nasty hits, but Israel had you covered. He eliminated anyone who crossed his path, omitting pure concentration. Sure, Blackbeard was the Kraken, but Izzy was his own monster. His skill horrified you, but you couldn’t help but recognize his beauty.

(tags for chapter update! @izzysprettyhusband)

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