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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 2 years

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Fate’s Games (Love’s Wrecks, Part 1.)

Description: Heartbreak is one hell of a bitch. And one Edward Teach could tell you all about it. Yet thanks to Fate being a little trickster, there’s a person who enters his life to remind him of how nice it is of having someone he can confide in, someone he can care about, and someone he can trust. To remind him, what it means to have a friend for better or worse.

Part Summary: Finding yourself somewhere in the ocean after a naval battle is not very fun. It kinda sucks, to be honest. To your luck, Fate is about to play one of its many games, giving you a chance to be saved from this misery.

Word counter: 5.3 K

A/N: To explain the first few paragraphs (cause I got weirdly passionate about Fate and all that stuff), I envisioned Fate as this creature sitting somewhere in the heavens, between the clouds, in over-the-top antique dramatic attire as they giggle about changing up people’s lives, seeing as they fall in love, discover happiness or overcome hardships (along with the blush and lip bite). Kinda like Keiynan Londsdale going through the photos in Kiss the Boy.

Tagging: @missdictatorme, @soliyra-the-sunbringer

Series master list: h e r e | Series play list: h e r e

Fate. Destiny. Predestination. Chance. Coincidence. Call it however you want, it is in mankind's nature to believe that there's some higher power watching over each step they oh, so carefully take. And if the power in question doesn't lead your steps now, it had already led you to the place you were supposed to find yourself; it was with you all the way, never really leaving you out of its sight. The power had already put obstacles in your way, it made you surpass those obstacles, and it made you stronger. With that, it is often said that history's biggest figures were born to be special, whether you're talking about history's most significant leaders, inventors, or those, who found themselves on the dark side of history; the most feared, those who brought endless terror to the world. It is often said about these people - they got it handed in their cards and they were chosen to be extraordinary, to be more, to achieve more. Whichever of those things mentioned above had led them to go down in history, there must've been something. It had to be fate. It had to be destiny, right? Right?

Yet, what if were to tell you that this isn't the case? That everything of this is decided in the spur of the moment by a heavenly creature watching mankind from above, giggling about the mischief and havoc it's causing. And Fate watches over all of its sheep equally, watching them bump into an obstacle just to feel the happiness when the person overcomes it. It is never given to the people in their cards - their significance is decided on the spot. In the end, everything that has the power to change one's life happens coincidentally, and yet, it is meant to happen. Sometimes all it takes is one defining action that needs to happen, yet Fate doesn't always want to be so straightforward. See, Fate is a very tricky creature that adores messing around with mankind, just as it loves mankind itself. It loves turning people's lives upside down to test them. It likes to get tricky, weird, and sticky, it likes to be slow and delicate to ensure that the individual will be ready for what's in store for them. This might be viewed as straight torture at times, but Fate knows that time heals all wounds. The power knows that its little ones will be alright in case they fail... One day, sooner or later. It's also aware that its sheep won't give up easily. They are strong. They aren't quitters. They are human, after all.

But there are times when Fate wants to get husky, pushing it to the limit; it climbs under people's skin, making them fight and, or, suffer. Times when even Fate stops itself to watch the mess and the catastrophe it had created. Each time it happens, Fate lets out a long breath, closes its eyes, and swears, watching its sheep devastated. What usually causes these husky, unhappy moments? When it all goes off the rails? It's called love; one of the purest, deepest forms of adoration and utter respect. It happens when people meet other people. When they fall in love. And... When they hit the obstacle mentioned before. Some can overcome it, together, making Fate cheer for them before moving on; but some people don't overcome it. People who crumble under the pressure, then fall into a deep hole of hatred and rage. The view of people in such despair, on the verge of an absolute breakdown, was always enough to tear Fate's heart in halves, making its stomach shrink.

The night our story starts, Fate was watching one of the many disastrous endgames to its games. It was sitting with its knees pushed under its chin as it watched one Edward Teach screaming into nothingness. The ocean was stormy, the ship was rocking on the waves violently; Edward climbed up the ragging, he was holding ropes in his palms so firmly that the skin on his palms was starting to burn. He was suffering. His scream was terrifying, coming out of the depths of his torso. The scream itself was full of heartbreak, pain, and anger... And Edward was trying to let it all out, to forget for a second. Mumbling a curse under its breath, Fate looked away into the distance. As it slipped its eyes in a different direction, it looked at flagships shooting at each other.

The naval fight was also horrifying to watch - the smell of gunpowder was in the air, leaving clouds of dark smoke after each explosion. Parts and sides of both the ships were torn to absolute shreds, the wood was broken to pieces, leaving hefty chips everywhere. Flags were torn apart, drenched in blood, ocean water, and rain. Dead bodies were laying on both the decks, floating in the waters surrounding the ship as the fight was slowly dying down. The chaos and debris were unmissable. Fatealready knew that almost none of the people are going to survive this bloodshed... Except... As a smile appeared on its lips, and as its eyes jumped back and forth between Edward and the debris, it had an idea. All it needed was a bit of creativity. And so, Fate sank its finger into the ocean water, changing the currents a bit, watching Edward's ship turning in the direction of the dying naval fight. The enormous machine understood as fate was put into motion once more, leaving Fate itself smiling gently.

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There was not a single sharp sound you’d be able to hear after two hours of listening to explosions, cannons going off, and the crashing of the ocean carrying most of the remnants away. Your eardrums were busted as if you weren’t to hear another sound ever again. And still, that wasn’t the worst thing going on. You’ve been clinging to a floating mast of one of the flagships for more than an hour at that point, feeling your body coldening more and more with each passing second. You’ve been shivering uncontrollably, let alone the comfort of feeling any of your fingers; some of which were so freaking cold that they started to change colors. The ability to control your limbs seemed like a distant memory. Your dress was torn apart in many places from the time you tried to run away, to help your madame escape the fight... That was when the fight just started.

Going back to the memories of it, you felt a strange jolt of cold traveling down your spine. Bullets were flying past your heads, just as cannonballs were, making holes into the delicate wood and destroying everything in their way; making the chips of wood fly past as well. There wasn't a single understandable world to recognize in the cluster of curses and screams, there wasn't much to be seen through the black, weighty smoke. As you tried to help the poor woman, leading her to safety through the corridors, you’ve got pretty scrapped yourself - and watching her ending up with a bullet in her temple made you horrified, screaming. From that point, you’ve been alone, praying to whoever was watching over you. You prayed to them to let you live, to let you get out of that mess. At first, it almost seemed plausible - you found yourself in a dark corner of one of the storages, hiding behind barrels full of food and various goods. As you sat there, mumbling all the prayers you remember from Sunday school, you could feel the body of the flagship being shot again. The cannonball flew through a wooden wall located very close to you; so close that your eardrums simply gave up for a second. And this time, you’ve barely escaped. Hitting the back of the ship, the cannonball made the wood crumble under you, making you slip into the cold ocean water.

An hour later, there you were - clinging onto a piece of one of the masts, watching the naval fight finally dying out. Those who could save themselves did exactly that - they hopped into emergency boats, paddling and skedaddling the hell out of there. No wonder there. If you'd ever were to describe the events of the night, you'd start by saying that the night is full of terror. Even though you couldn't hear anything properly, your brain memorized the screams of the dying and the sound of a bullet hitting the temple of your madame's head. The intense rain was settling down the black smoke, letting you see all of the destruction with your eyes. It was hard to believe that you were sailing on one of those ships just two hours ago - both wrecks barely resembled ships now, barely staying afloat. Everything happened so suddenly, out of the blue. When the first warning shots came, it was already too late for you and your crew… And their crew for that matter.

Two hours ago, you’ve been still employed by a posh lady who asked you to sail with her and her husband; well she didn’t exactly ask you nicely about joining them, but she was nice enough to tell you without unnecessary yelling. Madame often told you that you were her favorite out of all the servants her family had; and since she even let you get basic education, it seemed very plausible that she was telling truth. They were taking good care of you. Fed you well, made sure your clothes were presentable enough for their status, and sometimes even gave you a bit more money. That happened rather rarely, but it was still nice of them. Two hours ago, you had a good job, a so-so life, a kind employer and you were on your way to visit your madame's sister in St. Augustine. Now? What did you have now? Head almost exploding from pain, no capability of hearing, torn dress, surely a cold, and nothing to live for... And that was just in case you'd be able to get out of this pickle.

What was the pickle you found yourself in, you ask? It was the fact that you've been trapped in the middle of nowhere with two wrecks, with most of the supplies blown up or sunk. Sure, you'd be able to get back onto the ship, probably, and find a bit of food there - but what would you do next? What the fuck would you do? You doubted that any other ship will be sailing through that exact spot anytime soon - so you'd either die of starvation, dehydration or you'd go insane. On the other hand... Letting go seemed easy. Almost too easy.

Just as you internally debated whether you'll let go or if you should still hold the mast, your eyelids got heavier, letting you fall asleep - your last thought was a prayer as well. You either prayed to God for letting you survive through this shit or for the death to be swift and painless. And to be frank, you didn't give a damn about which one God chooses for you. It was hard to say how long did you float there; was it mere minutes, hours? Less than five hours? You couldn't tell. The night was still dark, the stars were perfectly visible and the air was cold - all you knew was that it was rumbling in the distance waking you up, searching for the danger around you.

Looking around with your eyelids sleepily winking, you realized that you're even more fucked than before - now, your ears might've been functional and the storm has stopped, but the salty water all over your scratches and wounds was true hell. On the other hand, the pain of it let your body make some adrenaline, giving you another bit of will to live and also waking you up quicker. Searching for what had woken you up, you tried to swing your leg over the mast to sit on it - which worked out... Except for the part where you completely tore the skirt off your dress. Sitting on the mast in your undergarments illuminating through the darkness, you furrowed and watched another ship anchor next to one of the wrecks. The revelation made your breath hitch in your throat. Watching the ship, you were on the verge of crying. You prayed for mercy and God heard you.

Fuck. You were lucky. So fucking lucky. Holy shit. You watched the ship longingly, digging your nails into the piece of wood. Your eyes were widening, your heart was slowly starting to beat faster, allowing you to gain control of your limbs once more. This was your only chance of surviving. You didn't stop yourself to think about who were those people, you just wanted to get out of there. The ship was enormous - there were three masts with white sails, the wood was brightly yellow in contrast to the dark black, and there were lanterns lit up all over the deck. It had an impressive amount of cannons that were seemingly ready for any inconvenience... And its gallium figure seemed to be gone, shot off. Honestly, even a fucking idiot would've guessed that it was a pirate ship. Anything from the funny-looking crew climbing the ladder down, the missing gallium figure, and hoisted color was enough to recognize said sort of people. Too bad it was the middle of the night and you couldn't see what kind of color it was. Knowing it's pirates you'd about to yell at, asking them for help, you'd think twice about what you were about to do.

The crew was paddling on two small boats to the wrecks to scavage for anything useful. And yet, with the corner of your eye, you saw that one man remained on board. He standing at the stern, watching over them. The captain, you figured. There surely was a lot of useful stuff around - including you. You were useful stuff. You'd gladly work for the gentlemen, making sure that you'd work your debt before ever leaving the ship. It was hard to tell for how long had you sat on top of the mast, watching the man from afar, listening to their voices.

They were slow and careful not to miss any loot on their way, so you had to be patient. You didn't want to startle them too much since you could easily end up with a bullet in your head - you promised yourself you'd call out to them once it will be convenient. As you were preparing yourself to do so, seeing the dim light of their lanterns shining just above you, you found yourself to be startled. Something suddenly touched your shoulder, making you scream into the deep, dark night. As the sound escaped your mouth, you quickly covered your lips with your palms, searching for what could've scared you so much. It was... A seagull. A seagull that had landed right in front of you, starting at you cockily. What... In the name of God... Was a fucking seagull doing there in the middle of the night? There was not much time for questions - the men halted as you tried to calm down. The seagull stared at you - when you realized and looked back at it, it rose its head towards the men. Was the bird there with them? Pointing your finger in their direction, you furrowed - and at the moment, you thought you were shitting yourself, the bird nodded. With that, you were ready to pass out.

"I-I think it's a mermaid, mate." - Said one of the male voices. The person was clearly scared, freaking out. You weren't wondering why - he heard a woman screaming at the top of her lungs in the middle of the night, without knowing about the said woman. - "We should go, leave this hellish place. She'll grab ya hand and will pull you into the sea! And then she'll eat ya alive! Bit by bit. And she'll start with the limbs so you'd stay conscious the entire time, mate, I tell ya." "Nonsense! You're a pirate Buttons, learn your myths. Sirens pull you down into the sea, not mermaids. I think we bumped into a survivor, perhaps." - Another man replied, pushing his arm with the lantern out of the hole in the stern. Three men were suddenly staring down at you - one of them was chubby with a red hat, another one was lean and tall with dark curly hair and the third one was the thinnest, with long hair, a beard, and an expression of an absolute crackhead - Buttons, you assumed.

Usually, you'd be worried when it came to addressing people like this... But, dear God, you were glad to see them. The crackhead noticed you first - thanks to the white seagull standing right in front of you. He rose one of his boney fingers, pointing right at you. "There she is! The demon!" - Buttons yelled out. - "Oh, shush." - The chubby one said, rolling his eyes as he kneeled, trying to spot you - it was fairly easy thanks to the white undergone. As if the bird knew that you were in safe hands, it flew towards the men, landing on Button's shoulder rather elegantly. Ah, you let out a snort, so that was why it seemingly understood when you pointed at the men. Seeing this explained a lot.

"Oi, miss!" - One of the men said, waving in your direction. Smiling happily, you waved back at the trio. - "Are you alright?!" "Good evening, gentlemen!" - You called back at them, laughing and crying as the happiness overwhelmed you for a moment. - "Give or take, no limbs missing... Yet! Would you mind helping me out of this pickle, pretty please?"

And as you asked, so the men did. Buttons refused to touch you or even look your way; did the guy really think you were a siren? He surely did, because as soon as they pulled you up, using a lot of ropes and heavy lifting, you watched Buttons leaving you with his friends. There was no time to sit around, though; you were freezing to death. As soon as you could, you walked through the ship, searching for any kind of dry cloth to cover yourself in. And when you finally did, you sat down on the remnants of stairs, looking at the men in front of you. They seemed nice and kind, with good manners. They pulled you out, in the end, didn't they?

"Thank you a lot, really. It means so much to me... Without your help, I would've either drowned or lost my mind. My name's Y/N... And yours?" - There was a sweet smile lighting up your entire face as soon as you raised your hand for the man to shake it; showing even more gentlemancy, the lean man turned it around and kissed your knuckles, which made you hum appreciatively . -“You can call me Frenchie, miss.” - The lean one said, giving your palm to the chubby man. This one sent you a quick, almost shy smile. - “And my name is Olu.” “You have some great manners, wouldn’t expect as much from sailors... Hell, that was rude of me, excuse my manners. What kind of business is your ship attending to? Is it a merchant ship?” - At that question, both men stared at you, unsure as to why they should say. As said before, even a fucking idiot would see that these two were clearly pirates - they didn't have any sort of a uniform, no formal clothes merchants would wear... Nothing. How comes you didn't connect the dots yet? Both men felt themselves getting more and more nervous with each passing second. Olu was to answer first. What you couldn't know what the fact that they assumed you were a lady in distress. Technically, you were one, but they thought you were a posh one.

“Eh, you see, that’s not very easy to explain…” - Olu blurted out. His skin was glistering with sweat, his eyes widened, and his lips parted. You didn’t understand why that was, to be honest (the question wasn't that weird), but you didn't comment on it. Frenchie decided to step in with his formal tone, almost bowing in front of you as if he didn’t want to offend you. Realizing they assumed you were posh, even though you've been clearly dressed in a servant's gown, running around in your undergarments, you sighed. Oh, dear. - “It’s not a difficult question, lady, the question is whether you’d like the answer or not." "And what in hell are you, then? Ghosts bound to sail the seas until the end of the world, just like the Flying Dutchman? Are you privateers? Pirates, even?" - You asked jokingly, but seeing their smiles freeze made you whistle and raise your eyebrows as you looked aside.

Were they trying to joke around, or were they serious? You'd never expect pirates to have... Manners of any sort. The profession was quite popular at that time and frankly, you only heard stories of the brutes, the violent abusers, and thieves. In your book, a pirate was a loud, violent individual carrying many guns; someone who'd never kissed your knuckles or addressed you 'miss' or 'lady'. They also weren't as damp, yucky, smelly, and messy as you'd tend to imagine them. They, in fact, looked quite nice. Was this what real pirates looked like? Yes - Olu, Frenchie, and Buttons might've been stealing (technically, salvaging) the remnants of your ship, but they didn't seem to be the aggressive folk you heard stories about. Nodding to yourself, you exhaled and looked back at them. - "Oh... Shit. Okay. I see, interesting."

"Please, don't yell, and don't freak out." - Olu, the chubby man with the warm gaze of a puppy, tried to soothe you down as you stared back at him. The man even patted your shoulder carefully. - "Yea, lady, it's not as bad as you think, whatever you heard about pirates." - "We don't do anything nasty to women, we wouldn't... We don't." - "That's right. We even have... Eh, had one on board and we didn't sink... Yet. Jim is the coolest person in the world, you'd like them!" - "And we aren't that violent or gross." - "Yes, we are keen on personal hygiene... To one degree or another." - "Our former captain helped us contain our anger." - "A lot of therapeutic activities, he called it." - "And... Wait. What's the deal?" The entire time, you've been sitting below them, watching them talking frantically. As they went on, a smile appeared on your face again until you burst out laughing. The longer they both went on, the bigger the smile was and in the end, the laughter was a wholehearted one. - "Nothing. As I said, it's a pleasure to meet you, both of you. Pirates, wow, look at you. I'd never had guessed. Is the rest of the crew like you or are you two the only hygienic and calm pirates on the ship?"

"Everyone on board is pretty much like us, I'd say. These guys are like family." - Frenchie answered, scratching the back of his head. Talking about the rest of the crew, he remembered that Izzy assigned them to find as many useful supplies as possible. Instead of that, they found a woman - which meant another stomach to feed. And it also reminded him of Izzy himself. - "There is one asshole among us, though. He's pretty nutty, let me tell you that much." "Oh, he's a slimy bastard. Reminds me of a rat." - Olu joined in, shaking his head with disgust. "If it wouldn't be for him sticking his boney fingers into everyone's business, if Izzy didn't do what he did and then said what he said, Ed...I mean, our captain would be talking to us. Probably." "What happened to your captain and what Izzy did to him?" - As you listened to their story, you were becoming intrigued. A crew of gentlemen pirates, who would've thought? It almost sounded like a very sick joke. You've never heard of such a thing, but it sounded fun. Olu was the first to answer your question once more.

"That is a pretty personal story." "Yea, we don't wanna tell you 'cause we still respect him even after what he did to us... And all that dramatic, theatrical shit he has been doing for the past few weeks." - Saying that Frenchie sat down next to you - he knew that this conversation won't be ending anytime soon. And to be fair, he didn't want to leave you there; alone at a shipwreck yard. They could come up with a story, something to shut Izzy up, something that would allow you to sail with them without Blackbeard necessarily having to know... Until you'd be able to disembark somewhere on land. You seemed quite nice, to be honest - Frenchie liked you. You were very pretty in his eyes, your lips seemed soft and warm and your eyes had some kind of spark in them. On top of that, you seemed to be a posh lady; maybe they'd be able to make a Stede replacement out of you. You could read them bedtime stories, have arts and crafts with them, maybe you could even... Nevermind.

"What has he done to you? This story is becoming pretty damn intricate, wow." - Your voice was what made Frenchie come back to reality. Looking at the horizon, it was begging to glow with dim, golden light and the stars were disappearing slowly. The night was ending - the night of incredible terror was finally over. Before answering, Frenchie spared Olu a quick look; at which Olu raised his eyebrows. - "He left us on a small island in the middle of nowhere... After we prepared a talent show for him. Would you believe that? Who in their right mind would dismiss a talent show? We spent hours thinking about it and rehearsing it and..." "You kinda forgot the part where he attempted to drown Lucius, Frenchie." - Olu reminded his friend, making Frenchie sigh. Alright, this finally resembled the pirate stories you heard and read. This finally remebled the violence, carelessness, and brutality.

Who the fuck was their captain? Why would he... Abandon his entire crew on an island? And who was Lucius and why would he attempt to drown the man? Furrowing, you continued on what Frenchie had to say. - "Oh, right, right. Poor Lucius, the lucky bastard, was blessed that Buttons was preparing for his moonlight ritual swim; he threw Lucius a rope and helped him back up... We have to hide him in the below deck ever since that happened, poor boy. I think the captain would've murdered him right in front of our eyes if he got to know he's alive. So far, he didn't sus anything." "And... Wow. That's something. If he's this ruthless, why did he come back for... The rest of you?" - You wondered, looking at both men. They seemed nice, but their captain... Yuck. A barbarian at his best, you'd guess. "Oh, he realized that he needs someone Izzy would chide, honestly. Izzy can be quite annoying, especially when he tries to climb up the captain's ass. Also, the ship isn't small at all, it needs more men than what he had on board." "Hm, I see. I see..." - The stories about their captain were interesting... To say the least. The 'Ed' man, whoever he was, didn't sound like a person you'd like to be around. The question was - was he a natural-born prick, or did something change him? - "And... Is he a good captain? I mean, before everything that happened, was he a good one?"

Both men looked at each other, not really knowing what to say. They missed the jolly, funny Blackbeard who was a respectable and wise captain. They missed the days of Edward actually putting effort into spending time with his crew, eating with them, laughing at their jokes and little vices. Nowadays, they barely knew what Ed looked like - people who were called into his quarters usually came back so stressed that they barely recalled what happened. - "He was the best fucking captain ever. Back when he was co-captaining... They were..." - Frenchie got lost in his thoughts before clearing his throat, looking you in the face. - "Listen, we can tell you later. Now we need to figure out how to get you out of here, miss Y/N." "I suppose the captain wouldn't be thrilled with having me on board as is, huh?" - Both the men said a quiet no. Nodding and acknowledging that fact, your palms gently patted your knees as your brain started to imagine various scenarios. - "We need a cover-up story. Something good but not too crazy, something believable." - And with that, all of you brainstormed for a bit, trying to figure it out.

"What about... Lady Y/N being our new scriber? He thinks Lucius is dead. Can you write, count, and read miss?" - Olu snapped his finger in your direction. At that, you nodded passionately. But Frenchie didn't sympathize with this idea. "No, that wouldn't work, I think. Good idea, but Ed isn't Stede; he doesn't want his life turned into a multi-volumed romantic novel." - Frenchie opposed dismissively. "Then, she can have other uses. She can sew our clothes back together... Help Roach with cooking, hm?" - At everything Olu said, you nodded in agreement; you'd do literally anything for some food and help with getting back on land. Whether you'd have to sew dirty, smelly socks or cook until your palms would be full of calluses, you'd be down to do it. - "Again, great ideas, but the guys wouldn't be too happy about it, I think. Roach doesn't allow anyone in his kitchen, sewing clothes is Wee John's thing and the rest is doing manual labor. Also, you know how anxious John gets sometimes and this is the only thing that calms him down and..."

"Wait." - Frenchie stopped when you snapped your fingers. The lightbulb inside your head started to shine as an idea came to your mind. It wasn't a nice idea, it was pretty risky to be fair, but it could be enough to shut Izzy and the captain up. It was one of the most ridiculous things you ever came up with, tho. It was insane, it was, morally ambiguous, weird, and gross. If it wouldn't be a cover-up story, you'd most probably never suggest They could gain some gold, the amount was pretty much dependent on how faithfully would you play that role. it.

"We can... We can tell Izzy and the captain that you'll get a good amount of money if they'd like to... Sell me off. To slavery." - Saying those words out loud, your breath hitched and your throat swelled; promising some strange men that you'll let them sell you into slavery. That was insanity. But it was probably your only chance. And both men, realizing it, watched you shuffling uncomfortably. - "I mean, you two think I'm some kind of a posh lady, don't you? If none of us tells him I'm nothing more than a servant, the captain can think that it could be the case. I've worked as a servant for a pretty long time, my madame thought me a few tricks here and there. And I can put on an accent." "You're... A servant? Are you sure?" - Frenchie asked with confusion. That would've never crossed his mind, to be honest - your skin seemed to be flawless and smooth to touch, just like the ladies in the portraits. As he mentioned, you were very pretty, clearly clever enough to master the trifecta of elemental knowledge and on top of it, you talked like one of them. But with a small smile, you nodded.

"I'm pretty freaking positive I'm a servant, Frenchie. The captain wouldn't have to know. Someone sure as hell would pay a ton of money just to have the option of seeing an English noblewoman suffer... Would they not? From what I've gathered, most people hate the English out here." "They sure as hell would pay a lot of money for that..." - Frenchie mumbled, still mesmerized by what he just learned about you. But with that, the plan was set in motion - walking over to their small boat (where Buttons had been already sitting with his trusty seagull) full of various valuables, you talked about the details.

#edward teach x fem!reader #blackbeard x fem!reader #our flag means death series/imagine #OFMD #ofmd Olu #ofmd Frenchie #ofmd Buttons #ALSO OUR FAVOURITE CELEBRITY GUEST IS BACK: NONE OTHER THAN OLIVIA THE SEAGULL #bet she's still grieving for Karl #also fate is kinda an existing entity in this universe from now on i guess #our flag means death hbo #love y'all #have a nice day #also the reader being a demonic creature will be a running joke dw #i love buttons man #that man is a nut #love's wrecks (OFMD series)

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