Good B Y E. - Tumblr Posts
🪐 — edward teach ;
a low hum vibrates along his throat. he doesn’t doubt his first mate’s words even for a second, even in this state. he trust izzy to take care of things when the weather gets a little rough and his head ducks down under, surface barely in sight. he trusts him to handle the crew, and keep an eye out for trouble — coming from both outside and inside, since they both know mutinies don’t just fall on your stupid head out of nowhere. there are always signs, people muttering about some inane thing or the other easily turns into dangerous little whispers. edward should know. it’s exactly how he became captain in the first place, all those years ago ( good riddance benjamin, have fun in hell ). but it’s not that bad yet — izzy would tell him, if it were. he would put a stop to it with as much efficiency as he does anything else. shit. he really would, wouldn’t he? the absolute certainly hits him like a tidal wave, for some reason.
perhaps it’s just that, or the subtle shift in tone, which finally prompts him to move. izzy deserves a little better than being dismissed without a glance, after all. so edward opens his eyes, takes his hand away from his forehead and.. he is forgetting something, isn’t he? but what? he’s not thinking very straight. oh. he moves up too fast and of course his stupid knee locks up, pain shooting through it. his legs almost buckle as he stumbles, barely managing to grip the back of the chair in time. ❛ oh, fuck off. ❜ voice strains around a half muffled groan, still he manages to wheeze out something close to a laugh. the first one in days. ❛ how’s the weather? think it might rain soon. ❜ one thing that knee is ever good for, at least: it usually troubles him more when the sky is about to turn ugly and dark.
HE HAS TO FORCE HIMSELF not to go to his captain’s side when he stumbles, not to reach out a comforting hand. that is not how things are done. not for them. life is pain, & they survive only out of a refusal to show weakness in the face of it. & yet izzy still has to choke down the desire to do whatever he can manage to soothe not edward’s aches. his own pain is easy to weather, but to see his captain flinch & grimace as his old injury locks his knee is all but insufferable. ( after all, it had been his inability to stand by & bear witness as the english tortured edward that had caused izzy to leave his old life behind & follow him instead all those years ago. ) yet he still manages a gruff attempt at humor about it as he steadies himself with a firm grip on the back of his chair, & izzy allows himself a brief smile, pride flaring hot in his chest. ❝ it might do, tomorrow, ❞ he agrees with a curt nod. in truth, blackbeard was far better at predicting the minutiae of the weather — yet another reason he was sorely missed abovedeck. but izzy knows that this particular prediction likely comes more from the stubborn enduring weakness in his knee than from atmospheric observations. & while he knows too well that tenderness is not permitted between men like them, he also knows that no one is watching them here. & perhaps it’s only an excuse for him to draw closer, but it is izzy’s job to serve his captain’s needs, after all. ❝ is your brace alright, boss ? does it need to be tightened ? ❞ he asks, his tone uncharacteristically gentle as he takes a tentative step forward. he hasn’t been called but still he comes, drawn to edward as a moth to flame, no regard for the potential to be burned. ❝ let me help you. ❞
🪐 — edward teach ;
it still disorients him a little to have such an unyielding presence at his side. someone he can trust to watch his back without fear of being thrown to the sharks for a coin or two. there had never been someone like that in his life before, and yet he found him while bound and bleeding on a british vessel, headed for the gallows — life is funny like that sometimes, he supposes. edward hadn’t hesitated then, back on his ship, once the haze of pain released him enough to let him be conscious for more than a few minutes at a time: izzy was to be made part of the crew from the get go, and no one had better dare raise a single protest on the matter. then harris died not long after that and the choice to replace his first mate had been so damn easy, as easy as breathing. who else other than the man who had freed him from the english and abandoned his post to follow him? israel hands, former british navy officer turned pirate, now acting as his first mate.
both the memory and izzy’s words bring a smile to his lips, but edward is a little distracted — fingers tapping idly against his knee, thoughts racing away from the recent event. ❛ what? uh, yeah. sure. ❜ he seems to be miles away. he agrees that they need to tell the men it had been their captain to kill the fellow, but distantly, like his ears are full of water. an idea, half formed and so sudden his head nearly spins with it: they need something to mark their first raid together by. and they need it now. ❛ actually, yes. i need you to come with me quick. ❜ grinning widely, edward springs to his feet and reaches out to wrap a hand around his first mate’s wrist, feeling half mad with anticipation as he heads towards his cabin.
( … )
❛ stay still for me, mh? captain’s orders. ❜ he is holding a big needle close to his face, after all, grin replaced by a rather serious expression as he makes some experimental moves with his wrist, still well above the skin. edward straightens his back again, balancing his weight on the mattress while his knees are positioned on either side of izzy’s hips, effectively pinning him between himself and the bed. ❛ this your first tattoo, mr hands? ❜
I NEED YOU edward says, grin dazzling as strong fingers curl around his wrist, & izzy’s world goes hazy. all doubts vanish from his mind as he follows edward into his cabin, a little flip in his stomach. there’s a chaotic energy to his captain that he only gets when his blood is up, adrenaline still buzzing through his body. & izzy revels in it, drinks in every moment. he always does as edward tells him without complaint or question, but at the order to get on the bed & lie back, his head spins. he almost passes out, but still he scrambles to comply, graceless as he stretches himself out on his back. & then a moment later edward is straddling his hips, tools clattering beside them, & izzy stops breathing. whether he’s in heaven or hell, he can’t say. izzy has survived this long only by keeping a vice-tight control on his both body & his mind, but edward’s heat & weight pressing him flat back against the bed threatens to shatter his resolve to pieces. but he says stay still & izzy complies instantly, his thoughts going foggy & his body calming unconsciously under the commanding tone. the needle is large & menacing, ink welling darkly at its tip, & izzy can see that he means to place his mark just below his eye, just where the tears would fall if he ever were to let them. this will hurt, he knows, & the pain is a promise. to wear edward’s mark so plainly for all to see was a gift, & he would accept it as such. he will not flinch; he will make his captain proud. izzy steels himself, swallowing around the thick lump in his throat. & his hands need to take ahold of something, so they fist in the sheets below him, gripping tight enough for his knuckles to go white. ❝ yes, captain, ❞ he breathes, his voice hoarse & scarcely above a whisper. ❝ my first. ❞ & god is he grateful that edward is the first man who’s gotten beneath his skin; hopes he is the only one who ever does. ❝ thank you. ❞