Disclaimer: Lady Whistledown, mentioned in this story, is of course a reference to the scandal sheet featured in Bridgerton. I am well aware that Bridgerton is based during the Regency Era of Great Britain (1811-1820) and that the events of Our Flag Means Death took place during the Golden Age of Piracy (1650s-1730s). I chose the name Whistledown as a fun little nod to Bridgerton, which I also love, and because it was simply too good to resist. It's not necessary to have seen Bridgerton to enjoy this fic. That said, please enjoy this humble addition to what I'm sure is a vastly growing catalog of gay pirate stories.


Chapter One - Shiver Me Timbers

The full moon cast its light across the still waters of the sea. Its reflected glow seemed to draw a line between the two men, silhouetted against the dark expanse of night. To Blackbeard, it represented a chasm he feared he'd never be able to cross. But Bonnet closed the distance between them easily, a folded piece of red silk in his hand. It was only a bit of cloth, little more than a scrap, but in Bonnet's hands it became something elegant and beautiful. Not unlike the Gentleman Pirate himself.

"There we go," he said in a breathy whisper, gently tucking the silk into Blackbeard's breast pocket. The hardened captain's body thrilled at even this slight touch. He had to master his emotions before he could look at Bonnet again.

The Gentleman Pirate was admiring his own handiwork, which was well. Had Bonnet been gazing back into his eyes, Blackbeard wasn't sure he could control himself, particularly when Bonnet added, "Look at that! You wear fine things well."

Blackbeard couldn't speak. His breath escaped him in a ragged gasp. What had he done to deserve such an exquisite torment? He wanted to take Bonnet then and there - throw him down on the ship's deck and have his way with him. But he could never be as rough as he wanted with the Gentleman Pirate. He had to fight against his base instincts and withstand the pull of his las… his lasciv…

"Izzy!" shouted Ed, his voice ringing out against the bare wooden walls of his cabin.

He was confident that his first-mate couldn't be far. He always seemed to be hanging around, lurking in shadows and creeping around corners. Ed's assumption proved accurate when Israel Hands stepped through the open doorway of the captain's quarters a moment later with a polite, "Did you call for me, Captain?"

"What does lassy… Hang on… What does lassy-vee-us mean?" Ed asked, "Is it French or something? I can't make it out…"

Izzy looked perplexed for a moment, then he replied in a rather suspicious tone, "In what context is it?"

Ed consulted the parchment in his hand and explained, "I should be making passionate love to this Bonnet character, but instead I'm trying to control my what-do-you-call-it urges!"

Izzy pulled a face like he'd just swallowed a mouthful of bad rum. Crossing the cabin in a few short strides, he had snatched the pamphlet out of his captain's hands as he demanded, "What the hell are you reading?"

"That ship we raided last week," Ed replied, not in the least disturbed by his first-mate's rude behavior. "I saw my name on this bit of paper someone had on board. First I thought it was just another bounty notice, so I picked it up. Wanted to see what the current price on my head was, you know? Turns out, it's something different. Someone's been writing stories about me!"

This explanation wasn't entirely honest. Ed had found that particular parchment aboard their last prize, that much was true. But he'd actually been collecting similar pamphlets for several weeks now.

In truth, he was pleased to have an excuse to show off the progress he'd made. Being illiterate, he'd only been able to recognize the letters of his own name from wanted posters, usually printed beneath a comically inaccurate artist's depiction of himself. The papers had inspired him, and he had been teaching himself to read in secret through a thorough study of the stories they contained.

"It's all make-believe, of course," Ed informed Izzy, who was scanning the page himself with a scowl on his face. "I've never even met Stede Bonnet, but this Lady Whistledown seems to think we're madly in love."

"Whistledown," repeated Izzy with a sneer, "She's nothing but a two-bit hussy writing trash for a bored aristocracy."

To Ed's surprise, Izzy reached into the inner pocket of his vest and withdrew a different piece of parchment. He handed this to his captain, swelling with pride as he said, "You'd be better off reading something like this."

Ed accepted the pamphlet, eager for some fresh reading material to hone his new skill.

"Dizzy Heads?" he stated, reading the author's name aloud, "Now, that's a funny coincidence. Sounds an awful lot like your name, eh Izzy?"

His eyes were already perusing the small quarto, so he failed to notice the look of consternation on his first-mate's face.

"What are these little symbols below the title?" he asked.

"They indicate what kind of themes one can expect from the story, Captain," Izzy explained, not needing to reference the paper to know exactly what Ed was referring to. "They're called, in literary circles, hashtags."

Ed hummed thoughtfully as he perused the so-called hashtags of the story Izzy had offered him:

#mutilation #autocannibalism #toes

"Izzy!" Ed cried with alarm, unable to read the entire list without feeling seasick. "Is this really what people think of me?"

Izzy thrust his chest out, lifting his chin high. He was proud of his captain, and he didn't care if Blackbeard knew it. "It's stories like this that contribute to your reputation as the most fearsome pirate on the seven seas, sir."

This was hardly a comfort to the distraught Blackbeard. He had never met Captain Stede Bonnet, Gentleman Pirate, but what would be his impression of Blackbeard if he ever read something like this!


Stede Bonnet, captain of the Revenge and Gentleman Pirate, was horrified to discover that he was shipped with Blackbeard.

True, he had once considered the infamous captain a role model for what he himself aspired to become when he first embarked on his career of piracy. But ever since he came across the work of Dizzy Heads, he no longer desired to be anything like the formidable Blackbeard. In fact, he hoped never to cross paths with him.

"What if he sees this and blames me for what people are writing!" Stede complained to Lucius.

The cabin boy was, as usual, recording everything he said in the large ledger that Stede had provided. Tasked with keeping up with his captain's lament, Lucius's quill flew across the page, his eyes never deviating from the paper as he casually replied, "Relax, everyone knows that Blackbeard can't read. Besides, who'd get angry over a harmless bit of fanfiction?"

"Harmless! Oh, no… No…" Stede whimpered, wringing his hands as his anxiety continued to grow. The latest release from Dizzy Head's twisted mind had really shaken him.

"I think it's best if we set a new course! One that will take us as far away from Blackbeard as possible."

"The ocean isn't big enough for both of you?" Lucius inquired, an ironic smile on his face.

"Not hardly," replied Stede with conviction.

"But how are you going to put distance between the two of you? We don't know where Blackbeard makes port. You could end up sailing directly into his path."

This was a troublesome point. There was only one thing for it. He asked the crew.

Black Pete naturally had a wealth of knowledge about Blackbeard, only none of it was useful. He knew nothing of Blackbeard's current whereabouts, and only managed to feed into Stede's fears with his account of the deaths suffered at the hands of Blackbeard's dastardly crew. The rest of his crew was likewise useless. Wee John suggested they stop in a port town to ask for directions to Blackbeard, mistakenly thinking that Stede's plan was to team up with a more experienced captain, not to ensure they never met each other. Frenchie could only repeat strange rumors he'd heard of Blackbeard consorting with sea sirens to control the ocean tides, thus always evading justice. Jim merely shrugged when asked anything.

Surprisingly, it was only Buttons who reported recent information.

"Karl spotted Blackbeard's ship near Barbados about a week ago," he stated with authority.

While intel from a seagull may not have been the most reliable source, Stede clung to the hope that it was accurate. They were at least two week's journey from Barbados themselves, and sailing in the opposite direction. At least for now, there was no danger of encountering Blackbeard.

His mood considerably improved, Stede set out to share the good news with Lucius, only to find his faithful historian seated in the midst of most of his crew, reading to them from a thin pamphlet.

At first he was pleased to see that Lucius had adopted his habit of reading to the men, then he heard the topic of today's storyline.

"Bonnet had to control himself. He was a gentleman for God's sake! But the sight of Blackbeard's arse in his tight leather pants was too much to resist…"

"Lucius!" Stede cried in a sort of strangled wail, "What are you… What is all this?"

"It's the latest from Lady Whistledown," Lucius replied happily, lifting the paper for Stede's observation, "The men were curious, so I thought I'd share it with them."

"Not that it's any good," grumbled Pete, "I mean, it's fine if all you want is dainty fluff, but I prefer the stuff Dizzy Heads writes."

The rest of the crew groaned. A few lobbed half-eaten oranges at Pete's head.

"Complain all you want!" Pete shouted as he defended himself from the onslaught, "But remember that I once sailed under Blackbeard! And I can personally confirm that everything Dizzy Heads writes is completely accurate!"

This assurance chilled Stede to the bone.

"There will be absolutely no more of this on board!" he declared, snatching the pamphlet out of Lucius's hand, "I will have no more fanfiction on my ship! Not from Lady Whistledown, Dizzy Heads, or anyone else!"

The crew groaned again, chucking a few more oranges at their captain as casually as they had at Pete. Stede dodged the assault as best he could while retreating toward the relative safety of his cabin.

"But, sir!" cried Lucius from behind his back, "Lady Whistledown's stories are harmless!"

Stede didn't believe it. The parchment was consigned to the open fire in his cabin without so much as a glance.