#Ed taking one of stede's hands in his and studying it

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Hey! This is extremely late but I feel like you'd adore this prompt.

Character study: Ed's beard caused sensory issues, required tedious upkeep, and was a source of performative masculinity. Finally, he's shaving it, and seeing "Ed" for the first time in decades. Super healing, cute, positive 💜

You're right, I absolutely adored this prompt!! This took a minute because I wound up going in a completely different direction at first, wasn't satisfied with it, and it sat in my drafts, and now I actually fuckin' love it. This one's set in a modern AU with a trans Ed, because that's a delicious little wrinkle. Bon appétit.

(Never too late to send me prompts for 1k word fics, by the way! I can't promise they'll all get done but if they inspire me, I'll do 'em eventually. These are great for writer's block)

--

No one could accuse Ed Teach of disliking hair care.

That was something his mama had instilled in him from a young age. His hair was also his pride in his heritage, in where he came from, and taking care of it was an important way Ed could take care of himself and stay true to himself. His worst argument with Stede, to date, was over which of them was taking up too much space on their shared bathroom counter with all the hair care products (they’d wound up putting up more shelving). The first time he’d let Stede help him wash his hair, after Stede had listened through Ed’s explanations of his hair care, was probably one of the most intimate moments he’d ever shared with another man.

His beard, though. That was a different story.

Ed didn’t hate the beard, most days. It had started out as a band-aid solution when he’d been struggling to be taken seriously with his baby face, and he’d wanted to prove he was as much a man as anyone.

Then he’d grown up, and he’d stopped looking like he’d just glued a few random hairs to his chin, and it became…him. It was big and striking and masculine.

“You know,” he’d confided in Stede a few nights ago, cuddled up under the covers together, one thigh and an arm thrown over Stede’s middle while Stede traced little patterns over Ed’s bare hip with a forefinger, “I don’t even like the beard.”

Stede blinked down at him. “You don’t…like your beard?”

“Honestly?” Ed ran his fingers through it. He liked how soft it was, liked putting little bows in it, liked how everyone saw him and knew without a doubt he was a man. “It’s itchy, and it’s easy for things to get stuck in it, and it makes my face all hot, and hair gets in my mouth, and -”

“Hm,” Stede said, shifting his hand up to scritch his fingers along Ed’s jaw, and Ed leaned into the touch. “You don’t have to keep it.”

It was Ed’s turn to pause in surprise.

“But I’m Blackbeard,” he said, a bit lamely.

“You can be whoever you want to be, beard or no,” Stede shrugged. “I’ll love you just the same, with or without it.”

Huh.

This morning, Ed woke up early, plugging in Stede’s electric razor and locking the bathroom door behind him. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted Stede to be part of this moment, but…he hadn’t seen his whole face in literal decades.

He wanted his reaction to be his and his alone.

Ed hesitated before he could touch the razor to his face for the first time. What would everyone think? He’d literally named his entire brand after this thing.

He took a deep breath. It didn’t matter what everyone else thought. It was about what Ed wanted. He could do what he wanted with his own body to help himself feel more himself and more comfortable.

At the very least, he told himself, it would save him time in the mornings. You don’t keep a beard that big looking that good without a very time-consuming beard care regimen. 

He used a hand mirror as he worked, looking at himself at too close an angle to be able to see his full face before he was ready for that. When he splashed water on his face, he shivered at the coolness of it against his sensitive skin.

He swept up all the clippings, taking care to avoid looking into the mirror over the sink. “Bye-bye, Blackbeard,” he whispered, tipping the clippings into the trash can.

Ed took a deep breath. Stede had said he’d love him, no matter what. He lifted his head, and he saw -

Oh.

His first reaction was that he looked a lot like his mother. He’d started trying to grow his beard out right after he’d first started taking T, and he hadn’t even realized how scared he was that he’d shave his beard off and see his dad under there until he got to see the opposite was true. He had a sharper jawline, but the rest was all her.

And he’d been scared he wouldn’t look enough like a man without it, too, but he looked…pretty, actually, and literally fine. He’d probably want to keep at least some stubble, because he really did just like how affirming facial hair was, but this was proof that he didn’t need the full beard to look like a man. He was a man, no matter what he looked like - the beard had just been his way of daring anyone to tell him otherwise.

“Hey, Ed,” he whispered, watching in the mirror as he brought his hands up to feel, tracing new wrinkles, soft skin, birthmarks and little freckles he’d long forgotten.

It shocked a quiet giggle out of him when he realized how nice it would be, to eat food without worrying about something getting into his beard. How nice it would be to feel soft things against his cheek, to -

There was an idea!

Ed darted out of the bathroom and practically launched himself back into bed, grabbing Stede’s hand to hold it against his face. He shivered in delight - Stede had touched his face before, of course, but he’d never felt it so clearly, his soft palms and warm fingers against his cheek.

“Mmf,” Stede mumbled, burying his face in the pillows in protest against being woken up.

“Babe!” Ed collapsed down onto his side so he could snuggle close and rub his clean-shaven cheek against Stede’s.

“Wh-aah!” Stede yelped as he opened his eyes to see Ed like three inches away. “Your beard fell off!”

“Shaved it,” Ed corrected, looking away. He hadn’t expected Stede to fucking scream at him -

Stede reached out, gently, cupping Ed’s chin to tilt his face for a better look. “Oh, Ed,” he whispered. “Aren’t you beautiful?”

Yeah, Ed thought with satisfaction. He sure fuckin’ was.

[collinrobinsonsglasses]

Too Soft to be a Pirate

Izzy Hands X Reader (GN)

Chapter 8 of a series.

Summary: Following the plot of Season 1, Episode 10. This chapter has all of the angst. 3 Izzy has to choose between you and Blackbeard. Unicorn "decapitated. Whole big thing. We had a funeral for a bird."

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter}

{Next Chapter}

Chapter 8: Wherever You Go, There You Are 

Awakening in a plush bed, you found yourself entangled in the cozy embrace of the blanket, evidence of a restless night. A piercing ache reverberated through your head, accompanied by a sensation of nausea. You considered the possibility that you might be dying, only to be interrupted by a sudden memory of the bottle of rum you had drank the previous night. You knew you should get up to start your day, but you were going to make a choice to resist any force on Earth that might entice you away from the comforting embrace of the bed. 

Fate, it seemed, sought to challenge your resolve, manifesting in the form of Lucius gracefully entering the room, wearing a self-satisfied expression. 

“Hey, babe. Don’t you look awful,” Lucius remarked, while placing his hands on his hips and smiling smugly, his self-satisfaction clear. 

A muffled groan escaped you as you buried your head beneath the pillow. 

Taking a seat on the bed’s edge, Lucius lifted the pillow from your head, inquiring, “Don’t you want to hear about what you missed this morning?” 

“Izzy screaming his head off?” you quipped in a sarcastic tone. There was no chance you had missed anything that important by indulging in a bit of extra sleep for one morning. 

Lucius paused, seemingly contemplating your response. “Well, technically, you’re not wrong. He was screaming his head off, but it was because we were about to throw him overboard tied to an anchor.” He ended his remark with a satisfied smile. 

“What the fuck?” you exclaimed in return, jolting into a seated position. The abrupt movement during a hangover, coupled with the notion of Izzy being thrown overboard, churned your stomach with a sickening sensation. 

“Oh, calm down,” Lucius scoffed, rolling his eyes and giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Ed showed up just in time, so Dizzy Izzy is still with us.” 

A breath of relief escaped you. “Ed and Stede are back?” you inquired, rubbing your eyes wearily. It felt like an overwhelming amount of information, and your head was struggling to process it all. 

“No,” Lucius whispered back as if he was telling you privileged information, “Only Blackbeard.” 

“Fuck,” you grumbled, sinking back onto a laying position. “Lucius, did you all plan a mutiny without me?” The realization hit as you recalled Izzy’s search for the entire crew last night. 

“Absolutely,” Lucius smirked. “We unanimously decided you couldn’t maintain objectivity, given your crush.” 

Your face heated up as a vague recollection from the previous night flashed through your mind. “So I was meant to be a distraction for Izzy? That’s why Fang abandoned me on the bow with rum?” you rasped. 

“No,” Lucius replied, studying you with curiosity. “Leaving you on the bow was just to keep you out of the way. The rum was Fang’s attempt to stop feeling guilty about lying to you… although, judging by what you’re saying, it seems like Izzy found you distracting?” A mischievous grin crept across Lucius’s face. 

“Oh, god,” you whispered, pulling the sheet over your face in an attempt to hide. “Lucius, he carried me in here, and I think I confessed I liked him,” you groaned. You accepted the unfortunate truth that even after the hangover faded, you might just have to stay hidden in this room forever. 

“Oh, god. What did he say?” Lucius inquired, his expression filled with pity for you as you lowered the blanket from your face. 

“I don’t remember exactly… I think he just told me to go to sleep. This is a nightmare,” you whined. 

“And you know what makes it even worse?” Lucius added, scrunching his face. “Now Blackbeard is back on the ship without Stede, and you know Jizzy has some unresolved stuff with that situation.” 

“Thanks, Lucius,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “You’re right. That does make it worse.” 

Both of you remained in silence for a few seconds, contemplating the situation. “What if you just tied me to an anchor and threw me overboard?” you suggested, attempting to inject some humor.

“Not a bad solution,” Lucius responded, tilting his head. He patted your knee that was under the blanket before getting up to leave the cabin. 

By early evening, you felt well enough to venture out of the first mate’s cabin. After all, with Blackbeard back on board, you assumed Izzy would be relocating back to that room soon. Restlessness permeated the crew, and the captain and first mate were absent. If you had to guess, you imagined Edward was sequestered in the captain’s quarters, with Izzy tending to him. A wave of jealousy swept over you as you ascended the stairs to the quarterdeck. In the inevitable choice between caring for Blackbeard or you, Izzy would always choose the former, and you couldn’t blame him for that. Despite understanding, you longed to see him and were curious about the dynamics that would unfold between the two of you now after your confession. 

The past few days had been tumultuous, from the English boarding to Calico Jack’s visit and Izzy’s short-lived captaincy. Amidst the chaos, there hadn’t been a moment to catch your breath. Glancing over at Buttons steering the ship, it occurred to you there had never been a proper funeral for Button’s seagull, Carl. 

Despite not having many conversations with Buttons during your time on The Revenge, you empathized with his attachment to Carl. Rallying support from the rest of the crew, they enthusiastically joined you in planning a fit funeral for the departed seagull. Frenchie played a mournful tune on the lute, Swede’s singing resonated with heartfelt emotion, and Buttons delivered a poignant eulogy for Carl. 

During the English boarding, Roach had discreetly stashed Carl’s lifeless body in a small wooden crate and unintentionally forgot about him. The crate, serving as an impromptu casket, was tenderly lowered into the sea as Buttons wept openly. The crew, in a gesture of solidarity, wrapped their arms around Buttons, providing comfort during this moment of mourning. Midway through the funeral, you observed Izzy briefly emerging from the captain’s cabin. However, upon realizing the nature of the gathering, he promptly retreated, rolling his eyes with an air of disdain. 

In the following days, the pattern persisted, with Izzy devoting the majority of his time to Blackbeard. When he did venture onto the deck, it appeared as if he were purposefully avoiding any interaction with you. Regret gnawed at you for revealing your feelings to him. You were well aware of Izzy’s love for Edward, and confessing your emotions now seemed like a foolish misstep. You knew the alcohol was to blame for the slip of your tongue, but, if you were being honest, you had thought the dynamics were changing between you and Izzy as of late. Now, it was painfully clear that you had misjudged the situation. 

After a few days, Blackbeard emerged from his quarters, adorned in a pink silky robe that undoubtedly belonged to Stede. Gathering the crew around he sang a ballad while Frenchie accompanied him on lute. It was a rare sight to witness Blackbeard openly sharing his emotions with the crew, particularly through song. A wave of guilt washed over you as he sang. Reflecting on the situation, you wished you had checked on him upon his return to the ship instead of letting your emotions regarding Izzy cloud your judgment. 

Following the performance, Blackbeard retreated to his cabin, leaving Izzy engaged in a heated exchange with Lucius on the deck. Seizing the opportunity, you discreetly slipped into Blackbeard’s quarters. As he turned to acknowledge your presence, a mixture of emotions danced across his face. Despite the little forced smile, a poignant sadness lingered in his eyes, revealing a depth of emotion that transcended the facade he presented to the crew. 

Silently, you approached him, enveloping him in your arms. There was an air of uncertainty since hugging Blackbeard was uncharted territory, and the possibility of a sudden stabbing mid-hug lingered in your thoughts. To your surprise, he reciprocated, arms encircling you as he rested his chin on your head. The embrace extended into a moment of shared silence. 

Eventually, you looked up at him, still cradled in his hug, and whispered, “Fang’s hugs are better than mine, but it felt like you needed one.” 

Both of you turned to look and reluctantly released the embrace at the sound of someone angrily clearing their throat. There stood Izzy, red-faced and visibly enraged at the unexpected sight of the two of you hugging. 

“Fuck off,” he spat, gesturing towards the door with an intensity that left no room for argument. 

Hastily, you exited the captain’s cabin, and just as you were making your escape, you overheard Edward teasingly remark, “Jealousy is not a good look on you, Iz.” It made sense that Izzy didn’t want anyone getting close to Edward right now, and obviously Edward was aware of that dynamic too. 

The remainder of the night unfolded without sightings of Izzy or Blackbeard. However, amidst the uncertainty, a glimmer of joy emerged with Jim’s return. Olu seemed lighter in their presence, practically floating. You gave Lucius a curious look, and he gave you a knowing nod back. They had certainly fucked. 

Jim promised to resume your knife lessons once your wrist was fully healed. With them back on board, there was a collective hope that the ship would gradually return to some semblance of normalcy. You were sure things would get less tense. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

That night marked a shift, a change for the better. Despite Izzy’s sacrifice of his pinky toe, it proved a small price to pay for the return of Blackbeard to his true self. With Blackbeard back, a sense of order was restored to the ship. Izzy couldn’t help but revel in the immense joy coursing through him as Stede Bonnet's possessions were callously tossed into the sea. Finally, the ship was rid of every trace of that insufferable twat. 

Izzy noticed as you somberly gathered books from Fang and handed them over to Ivan. He was well aware of your fondness for reading Stede’s books, often catching glimpses of you tucked away in a quiet corner of the ship engrossed in them. A subtle unease settled in Izzy’s stomach as he watched you, his mind involuntarily revisiting the conversation he and Blackbeard had shared when planning their next steps. 

“We’ll drop them all off on an island and leave them there. Then we’ll be rid of Bonnet’s playthings,” Izzy explained, his hand hovering over the flame of a candle. 

“Hmm,” Blackbeard mumbled, smoke curling from his pipe as his leg remained propped up on the desk. Gradually retracting his legs, he leaned closer to Izzy before speaking. “What about your plaything, Iz?” he whispered menacingly. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Izzy replied, his voice tinged with a hint of deceit, wavering in its attempt to conceal the truth. 

“Oh, Izzy… Do you recall my stance on pets aboard my ship?” Edward continued with venom, echoing the sentiment Izzy had conveyed to him just weeks earlier. “I think you’ve begun to view our little mouse as sort of a pet. Best thing to do… end it quick.” 

Izzy felt his expression harden as Blackbeard skillfully turned his own words against him. In response, he met the statement with an unyielding silence. 

“It’s settled. They’ll be left with the rest of Bonnet’s crew, minus Frenchie and Jim,” Blackbeard declared, turning to face the window. “Unless it would be easier for me to just shoot our little mouse now. I’ll happily end it.” Izzy could discern the undercurrent of anger in Blackbeard’s words. 

“No, boss,” Izzy replied with stoic resolve. “Leave them with the rest of the twats.” 

Izzy snapped back to the present as more books were being gathered from Stede’s cabin. This was what he wanted, he reminded himself, even as conflicting thoughts swirled around his head. Deep down, Izzy recognized that you would be safer somewhere else than remaining on the ship with Blackbeard in his volatile state. The chances of survival seemed higher being marooned than enduring the unpredictable circumstances aboard The Revenge. 

Blackbeard was back to his old self, and soon it would be the two of them together again. That was enough for him. Izzy acknowledged to himself that he had grown to care about you immensely, but caring about someone made pirates vulnerable. Stede leaving Edward served as a stark reminder - people couldn’t be trusted, a lesson Izzy had learned repeatedly on the unforgiving sea. 

After narrowly escaping being thrown overboard tied to an anchor, it became evident to Izzy that your declaration of feelings towards him had been nothing more than a distraction, a ploy for the rest of the crew to orchestrate a mutiny. It wasn’t real, so he had no reason to protect you. The only loyalty he harbored was towards his captain, and in his perspective, that was how it should be. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Seated cross-legged on the bow, your gaze fixed on the decapitated unicorn figurehead before you – a fitting representation of the week that had transpired. Your belongings were neatly packed beside you, and you sought solace in this final moment at your favorite spot on the ship. Fang and Ivan had disclosed Blackbeard’s plan, so you knew the impending dinghy ride signified the end of your time aboard. 

As they relayed the news, Ivan maintained stoic composure, while Fang succumbed to immediate tears. Ivan tentatively suggested the possibility of hiding you on the ship, just like their initial encounter with you. Yet, deep down, you understood the futility of the idea. The Blackbeard currently presiding over the ship was an entirely different man, and any hope of stowing away seemed more improbable than ever. 

You clung to Ivan and Fang, enveloped in their comforting arms, sharing tears with Fang until you could bear it no longer. Seeking a moment of solitude to collect your thoughts, you gently removed yourself from their embrace. 

Begging Izzy to reconsider felt useless; Blackbeard had made a decision, and the first mate would never disobey him. The night you confessed your feelings to Izzy, you lied. You didn’t just like him; it was love. And now, as the reality of goodbye loomed, your fury towards him was intricately woven with profound sorrow. You had accepted that Izzy would never choose you first, but being left behind was a pain you hadn’t expected. 

Izzy poked his head through the doorway leading to the bow, wearing a stoic expression. “Come on,” he huffed. “We’re leaving for the talent show.” 

You rose to your feet, grabbing your small bag, and Izzy immediately took notice. 

“Why do you have your stuff with you?” Izzy inquired, a trace of anxiety evident in his voice, likely sensing that he had been found out. 

“You know why, Izzy,” you replied firmly, shooting him a glare that conveyed both frustration and a simmering resolve. 

“I don’t know why the fuck I bother telling Ivan and Fang anything secret,” Izzy grumbled. 

“You’re making a mistake, Iz,” you persisted, attempting to suppress your emotions and maintain objectivity. 

“Captain’s orders,” Izzy stated firmly, his commitment to Blackbeard’s plan unwavering. 

“Izzy, look at your foot.” you implored, concern etched into your words. “I’m worried about you. Blackbeard isn’t going to be able to go back to who he was before Stede. He’s heartbroken. He’s going to become a monster.” 

“Blackbeard is himself again,” Izzy spat, the words sounding as though he were trying to convince not just you but also himself. 

“I know you love him, and you’re scared of losing him. But this isn’t the way,” you said quickly, realizing you were broaching a sore subject. 

“I don’t love him. Love is bullshit. It makes pirates weak, and there’s no place for it on this fucking ship. There’s a reason you’re getting off,” Izzy snapped, his jaw visibly tightening in anger

“Love is not bullshit,” you whispered, the words carrying the weight of your emotions as tears welled up in your eyes. 

“Where has love gotten you? Thrown over the side of a ship?” Izzy sneered, his tone laced with bitterness. 

Rage surged within you, as Izzy referenced the story of you being betrayed by the man you used to love. It dawned on you that Blackbeard must have shared that with him, and the fury intensified at the realization that Izzy was using it against you. 

“You’re right Izzy.” you spat back with a bitter edge. “Love has gotten me pushed off a ship, and now it’s getting me marooned on a fucking island.” Closing the distance between you, you pointed accusatory at his chest with your finger. “Love is worth it though. Love is only bullshit when you love someone incapable of loving you back… Blackbeard doesn’t love you the way you deserve to be loved.” The words hung in the air, charged with the frustration of unrequited feelings.  

“Fuck off,” Izzy growled, his voice low and intense, the words nearly a hiss as he loomed inches away from your face. You could tell Izzy was feeling a myriad of emotions 

“Happily,” you responded through gritted teeth. 

As you passed Izzy to leave, he seized your uninjured arm, halting your departure. “Don’t tell those twats the plan,” he ordered, referring to the rest of the crew who were on the brink of being marooned with you. 

“Don’t worry, Israel,” you responded with a tinge of sadness, yanking your arm away from his grasp. “I always follow my first mate’s orders.” 

Taking your place in the dinghy next to Ivan, Izzy followed suit without giving you another glance. The journey to the island was solemn, and as the rest of the crew disembarked, you embraced Ivan for one last hug. 

“Look out for yourself, Pip-squeak,” Ivan whispered. 

“You too,” you replied, running your finger over the spot on his nose where Olu had hit him with a rock just a month ago. 

As you were about to step off the dinghy, a keen awareness settled in – the realization that this was likely the last time you’d see Izzy. Despite the anger festering within you, the love you held for him compelled you to address the unresolved tension. 

“I know you’re just scared, and I forgive you,” you whispered, planting a kiss on his cheek. The look of utter confusion and pain that passed over his face lingered on his face as you stepped onto the island. 

As you watched the dinghy grow smaller, retreating towards The Revenge, you rested your forehead on top of your knees, and tears began to flow. The sense of family shattered, your crew split in half, and an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness settled in. 

{Next Chapter}

Taglist: @5tud10-54r4h @locamoka-blog @promptly-mercy@this--is--music @raviolical @lxsm2 @emilynissangtr

[dracothelizard]

Obviously I want to write something for BottomStedeWeek (although every week is Bottom Stede Week as far as I'm concerned, Ed can do some occasional bottom as a treat.)

I went through my fic ideas list and spotted 'Fucking involving the fuckery harness somehow!' and that was agreat idea, past self!

Below is a bit of Ed strapping Stede into the harness. I spent a whole five minutes googling stunt harnesses.

Stede looks down, nodding along. “Yep!” He has his arms down, but still slightly raised to give Ed room to tug and arrange the straps.

Ed smiles at the tremble in Stede’s voice. “I thought you’d be used to have someone else put your clothes on,” he murmurs, and maybe he runs his hands down the various straps more than he needs to, and stands behind Stede to tug the leather down his back for a chance to brush his fingers against the top of his ass.

Stede shivers slightly. “Never wore clothes like these!”

Ed hums, then walks to stand in front of Stede again, taking the top strap and buckle, the one just above Stede’s nipples, in both hands. He looks Stede in the eye. They’re only inches apart now. “First time for everything, right?” He smirks as he slides the strap through the buckle, keeping his eyes on Stede’s.

“Yes,” Stede whispers.

Oh, this is promising. Ed looks at the strap, eyeing the series of holes. “It has to be tight.” He gives the strap a firm tug, and Stede grunts in front of him. “All right?” He buckles the strap, running his fingers along it. The black leather makes a nice contrast against the pristine shirt.

Stede’s Adam’s apple bobs. “Yes!”

The second strap runs just below Stede’s chest, and Ed can feel Stede tremble as he slides the strap through the buckle. “What do you think?” Ed asks quietly as he tugs on the strap to tighten it. “Tight enough?” He keeps his head down as if he’s studying the buckle, then looks at Stede through his lashes. “Or one more?”

“I can take more.” Stede licks his lips, cheeks flushed. “Do it.”

[the-moon-loves-the-sea]

Omg if you have the time & energy, would you share some more fic recs?

Yes! With joy!

Liquid Gold by @perkynurples (Stede/Ed, 27k, WIP, M, modern beekeeping AU, friends to lovers). I ADORE the crew in this. I love the little town and the gentle steps toward courage they all take. I wholeheartedly needed Stede and Ed chasing the memory of mothers' kindness away from the specter of their fathers' failures and into each other's arms.

"Stede Bonnet, recently divorced, returns to the town he once knew. He's got the old house, he's got the bees, and he's going to be(e) happy if it's the last thing he does. (Stede is a bit miserable no matter how hard he tries.) Ed Teach is known as the beekeeper in town, always meticulous, always gentle, never too bothered with rules, or protective gear. (Ed is also, no matter how hard he tries, a bit bored.)"

whole, holy by @queerspacepunk (Stede/Ed, 3k, T, post-canon, re-establishing the relationship). Gorgeous little character study, sweetest freedom-finding for them both.

"Ed's as precious, by Stede's accounting, as the priceless tea cup in his hands, and, on Stede's insisting, just as set apart."

And What Obscured in This Fair Volume Lies (Stede/Ed, 11k, E, post-canon, regaining trust, first time). Featuring honest, tender, careful romancing and a brilliant background return of the Revenge theater troupe.

"After Stede reads William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet to the crew, they decide that tragedies are bullshit and decide to put on their own production of the famous play. Meanwhile, Ed and Stede slowly find their way back to each other."

Under the Weather (Stede/Ed, 10k, E, sickfic, getting together). Gentlest domestic caretaking and a simple discovery of love.

"Sickness sweeps through the crew of the Revenge. Stede introduces Ed to his favorite self-care remedies for dealing with a cold."

Buttercup by @mia-ugly (Stede/Ed, 13k, E, post-canon post-reunion getting together, love confession, learning intimate communication). Devastatingly tender, fragile at first and building to so much trust and love between them.

"When you're Blackbeard you've got a reputation to uphold. And you let it slide, the things people assume. You don't want to talk about it."

forgive & forget (Stede/Ed, 9k, WIP, unrated but T so far, amnesia, post-canon reunion). Heart-wrenching, heart-warming, fantastic writing. Stede's courage and Ed's heartbroken gentle fierceness is ruining me. And Lucius is a DELIGHT.

"An unlucky twist of fate leaves Stede with a head injury that wipes the last months of his life clean. Unable to remember leaving his family in the first place, exiled by his wife for sins he doesn’t remember committing, Stede has absolutely nothing to his name. He doesn’t make it far before he’s captured by the dread pirate Blackbeard himself, who seems to hold the missing piece of the puzzle that Stede’s life has become."

In Favor with Their Stars by @mxmollusca (Stede/Ed, 37k, M, scifi AU, canon arc aboard a spaceship). Extraordinary study of personhood and love, incredible use of its central concept. Stede's coming-to-consciousness as an AI, falling in love with Ed as he falls in love with life, parallels Stede's in-show coming-awake in a way that makes me cry. Their unconventional communication makes them so intuitively close. And Ed's sudden blooming in the liminal space of care and possibility Stede creates for them is exquisite.

"Ed is an engineer aboard the Revenge, an interplanetary research vessel on a multi-year mission. An accident wakens Ed from cryostasis months early, and his only companion is STE/DE, the ship's onboard AI. They develop an unconventional friendship, but is it possible to have more?"

Just a few of the gorgeous ones I've read recently, or gone back to. You're all exceptional gifts.

[triflesandparsnips]

Mad scientist(s) for the au ask game.

Five fun facts that would happen in the story (which I'm gonna do with OFMD, unless/until someone asks me otherwise):

In this AU the mad-scientist profession usually runs in families, but both Ed and Stede are outliers. Ed ran away from home as a child and was taken in by a childless widower who claimed himself to be the great-grandson of Johann Faust (which may or may not have been true, but Hornigold certainly had enough tricks up his sleeve with regard to the alchemical arts that it might very well have been so). Ed, under his nom de science Blackbeard, rose to acclaim for his ability to conjure spirits, his medical acumen, and his likely deal with the devil. Stede, on the other hand, was the son of landed gentry and had no connection whatsoever to the grand history of mad science-- but he collected the treatises, had more than enough money to buy himself a tower and a water wheel for the electrical experiments, and styled himself the Gentleman Philosopher without any real knowledge of what he was getting himself into. He may or may not have had some mystical robes specifically tailored for this purpose. There may or may not be quite a few alchemical symbols for Mars stitched on them.

Rather than a single ghoul to help source his Dread Necessities (as Ed has Igor Izzy), Stede has an entire crew of down-and-outs who are more than happy to find him "very definitely real philosopher's stone, absolutely" and "the hand of a hanged murderer buried at a crossroads, which always very definitely look like slightly moldy turnips after a while" and "yes it's an authentic black cockerel, but don't touch it or wipe its feather or anything, they, uh, don't like that". This may seem like they are taking advantage of Stede's naivety, and that's because they absolutely are. On the other hand, though, they do their (admittedly, not great) best to let it be known throughout the nearby countryside that the Gentleman Philosopher does not represent any particular harm to the bodies or souls of the local townsfolk, being as he's just a rich idiot with a hobby and perhaps too much faith in the honesty of others-- so no pitchforks or anything necessary, yeah? Just let the man have a nice time. And if you have a particularly funny looking turnip, let them know.

It should be stated, though, that Buttons is absolutely the son of a long and storied family of mad scientists. He will on occasion try to help Stede with his Great Works, but Stede keeps trying to add more style to the proceedings than is strictly necessary. All you really need, Buttons knows, is some auspicious moon dates and the right ingredients from trustworthy sources (and here he might look very fondly at Karl, who will in turn preen smugly), and Bob's your uncle, you've got gold or good health or a shambling creature risen from the dead, whatever suits your fancy. Buttons mostly uses his family's gifts making Aqua Vitae in less time than it ought, and for this reason, the others ignore the bird and try not to mention pitchforks too often.

Mad scientists tend to stay in one spot in general -- hence Stede's insistence on the tower, even though it necessitated more ladders and dizzying spiral staircases than he'd really anticipated -- but this will often lead to local mobs and witchfinders knowing exactly where you are at any given time, which is not conducive to scientific study. Ed had long ago taken his show on the road to avoid this very outcome, and had crafted himself a very clever caravan that could be stopped and set up whenever he found himself needing to do a little work. The itinerant life was a necessity but... it wasn't fun like it used to be. And these days, he tended to leave the majority of the work for Izzy-- cooking up simples to sell to farmfolk kept Iz busy so Ed could do the important things like sit around contemplating the universe and also maybe wonder if that whole "base metal into gold" thing was just as much of a fuckery as everything else Ed had done to gain his reputation. But Ed didn't know how to be anything other than a mad scientist. So... so maybe he needed to be looking at some other options. Really study up on that "deal with the devil" thing his detractors kept rattling on about. Maybe do some work toward the life after death thing, see if there was anything he could... prepare for. And it's as the caravan rattles down the road to the next town and he's gloomily considering whether he would rather leave his caravan to Izzy or require its immolation with his own corpse (strongly favoring the latter)... that the road bends, and he sees the tower.

The Gentleman Philosopher's tower is ridiculous. It's got at least five floors, and the top has a widow's walk, crenellations, and a pole with half a dozen flags of questionable alchemical meaning strung up it. The stones appear to be made of some kind of glittery granite, nothing like the local rocks, and the mortar joining them has either been painted or, somehow, imbued with an absolute fuckton of chrysocolla to make it look fucking teal. There's a babbling brook nearby that pushes a water wheel attached to the side of the tower, except the proportions are all wrong for any of the really big ticket experiments you can do with that kind of energy -- and moreover, it looks like it's made out of some kind of cherry wood that's absolutely going to warp all to fuck in the water sooner rather than later. There's a stable out the back with what look like half a dozen exotic creatures just bleating happily to themselves -- a grove of goddamn orange trees where any sensible person would have their vegetable garden -- and what appears to be a motherfucking koi pond by the front door. Ed is fuckin' enchanted. He is, in fact, going to go up to that tower and find out everything he can about the beautiful, genius madman running the place-- --the very second he gets done rescuing the guy from the enormous mob of torch-wielding locals currently trying to set fire to his pasty-looking corpse.

...And a bonus:

Once the smoke is cleared and the townsfolk appropriately terrified of what the mad scientist Blackbeard might summon upon them for their temerity, Ed can take his own sweet time getting the unconscious and probably-not-actually-dead Gentleman Philosopher situated in his incredibly comfy-looking bed-- there to watch him, bleed him as necessary, and come up with a thousand and one questions about the guy's whole, like, deal.

Izzy, meanwhile, has been left outside to stare in horror at the large sign affixed above the tower's door. The sign, somewhat smoke-stained now, reads:

The Gentle-man Philoſofer

Behold the True Glaſs of Alchymaie!

☞ Myſteries & Wonders ☜

Galenical & Chymical Phyſick

Some Cookerie of a Moſt Delightfful Variety

Many Excellent Remedys for Scurvy Alſo

DO NOT TOUCH THE BIRDS

"What," says Izzy, "the fuck."

[mxmollusca]

Tomorrow I'm releasing my sequel to An Arm and a Leg, called The Sticking Place. If you enjoy dismantling internalized ableism, have a passion for single subject research design, or like Macbeth, then I've got 14k words of anatomically correct, tentacular silliness just for you!

***

He let his eyes drift closed and held a tentacle aloft in anticipation. Stede focused on the cues from his body, and as he waited for Ed, he noticed something curious. In the absence of visual stimuli, his limbs became more active. He could feel them roam, suckers massaging more earnestly, limbs climbing and squeezing and tasting and seeking—seeking more information, more connection—

And then Ed brushed something against the tip of Stede’s limb. It immediately reacted, seizing the small item and squeezing it—

Stede was wracked with a full-bodied shiver as he was overcome with an nearly incapacitating sensation of tang. Every suction cup exploring the item puckered before slowly relaxing once again as the mental twinge transmuted into a sunny sweetness that tingled from the tips of his extremities straight into his core. He passed the small item from one arm to the other; it was oblong, pulpy, and now wet—Stede could feel a liquid dripping down the length of his arm—oh! An orange! It was a segment of orange, he was sure of it!

“Fucking wild,” he heard Ed murmur. “You like that one?”

Stede opened his eyes and, sure enough, Ed appeared transfixed by a new pattern on Stede’s tentacles. He was no longer a vibrant teal but a pearlescent white, a scatter of sapphire specks concentrated along the tops of his arms much like freckles on a cheek brought out by the sun. Ed’s eyes flicked up to meet Stede’s and Stede watched a blush creep up from beneath his beard, and Stede’s blue freckles intensified in turn.

Ed blinked rapidly as if snapping out of some hypnotic state. “You can taste it, can’t you?” he asked, scooting closer with his graphite and notebook. “Tell me everything.”

Stede released the side of the boat with his hands in order to relax back and bob in the water to contemplate his response. He held the orange segment aloft, absently rolling it up and down the length of his arm by passing it from one suction cup to the next. “Gosh, well, does it make sense to say I can taste it everywhere? Normally, if I put an orange in my mouth it would be a very… localized experience. This, though—Ed, I can feel the taste. It’s like my whole body knew it was sour and sweet but is coming to the realization at different times, and my arms—”

“Reacted before you knew what was happening.”

“Precisely!”

Stede brought himself back up to the boat and pulled himself up to meet Ed, holding the segment out for him to take. Instead, Ed’s eyes narrowed in concentration as he leaned in closer to examine Stede’s undulating grasp on the orange, periodically looking down at his notebook to add to his sketch.

Stede felt truly fantastical under Ed’s study, but ached for a more, well, hands-on approach. He swallowed and then cleared his throat, letting the tip of his tendril bring the orange segment closer to Ed—to his mouth. “You aren’t going to let it go to waste, are you?” he asked hopefully. “After all, we’re supposed to be rationing.”

Ed’s mouth dropped open slightly as realization dawned, and Stede took the opportunity to press the piece of fruit to Ed’s lips. Ed opened his mouth wider to accept the offering, and before Stede could pull back, Ed wrapped his lips around the tip of his arm and gently sucked.

The sudden intimacy had Stede embracing the entire dinghy like a sea monster of myth until he felt it creak under his grasp. His tentacle stiffened in Ed’s mouth as he felt his tongue tease the ridges of the tiny cups, sucking away the remnants of juice until the only thought left in Stede’s mind was a steady thrum of Ed—Ed—Ed.

[kayjaydee17]

It's not WIP Wednesday, but I'm way too pleased with this bit from chapter 2 of Be My Baby not to share it

Contains infantilism, age regression, little Izzy Hands

Ed returns with Izzy's present, laughter dancing in his eyes. It's a stuffed pineapple that Stede saw when he walked past a toyshop the other day and it was perfect. It has little legs and a sweet, smiling face and it's so soft, even Stede couldn't help giving it a bit of a cuddle as he walked out of the shop. "Seems appropriate," Ed says.

Izzy watches Ed's approach, his fingers twisted tightly together. "For me?" he says, the same way he does with every new toy, every new outfit, every new blankie. It makes Stede heart hurt. When Izzy's big again, he needs to have a talk with him about what he did when he was little. He knows that the apartment was devoid of toys, of nappies, of anything used to take care of a little one -- and how was a little one meant to take care of themself without any grown-ups around, anyway? -- but surely, surely, there had to be something. Surely these are not the first things little Izzy has ever had that are his.

"For you," Stede says, and Ed hands the stuffie over.

Izzy wraps his arms around it and gives it a tight hug, then holds it away from himself to study it. "Spineapple," he says.

"Something like that, kid," Ed says.

"Pickly," Izzy says.

"Prickly," Stede corrects. He tucks an arm around Izzy's shoulders. "Pineapples have lots of prickles and spikes, but he's nice and soft, isn't he?"

Izzy rubs the pineapple against his cheek. "Soft," he agrees. "Like nappy."

[gaps-between-stories]

Fic Preview

Check out a sneak peek up an upcoming installment of my Step-Dad series Bonus (featuring a very special sneak peek at Sofia, who has me wrapped around her finger just as much as her grandfather's).

After four years of university, three years of law school, six months of studying, a 7-hour long exam, and fifteen more agonizing minutes, Alma was finding out her Bar results today. She’d flown back home from Ontario the day after her exam, sleeping for about a week straight before beginning her anxious wait for her results. 

Their kitchen had smelled incredible the past week given the behemoth amount of stress baking she was doing, and Stede and Ed had started pawning off her baked goods to the neighbors, coworkers, anyone who would take them. They were drowning in banana breads and strawberry jams and while they loved her baking, it was getting overwhelming. This was one of her healthiest coping mechanisms so they were more than encouraging, although Ed had had to talk her down from cutting her own bangs about three nights ago. 

Their kitchen had also become a concert hall for Taylor Swift, whose never ending discography Alma still listened to religiously, blasting it at a volume that Ed was convinced was to prevent her from hearing her own thoughts. 

Today their kitchen was in a flurry of chaos as Alma managed to cram seven different baking pans into their oven while scream-singing 1989, checking her phone every three minutes for the time. 

Stede wasn’t helping any by asking her every time she checked her phone whether she’d heard back yet. 

Doug was trying to set up Louis on a facetime call, a seemingly easy task made all the more complicated by the shoddy service the kid had up in the Yukon right now. 

And Mary was currently running late, having missed her ferry over from the island. That last tidbit certainly wasn’t helping soothe Alma’s frayed nerves right now. 

Ed was mostly trying to stay out of the way, counting down the remaining fifteen minutes til the results were posted as patiently as he could. He had been occupying himself by entertaining Sofia, who was more than happy to bounce between all three of her grandfathers to keep her out from under her mother’s foot. But about twenty minutes ago she’d demanded that Ed pick her up, before promptly falling asleep in his arms. 

The music suddenly cut out. 

“Uh-oh.” Doug had tried to mutter it under his breath, tried to keep it to himself, but Stede and Alma’s bat hearing prevented that. 

“Why uh-oh?” They demanded in unison. 

Doug clicked the laptop a few times, Louis’ face frozen on the screen, then checked his phone, grimacing. “Looks like there’s an issue with the wifi. I’m going to need to reset the router.” 

Alma’s head dropped into her hands on the counter, screaming into her palm. Stede moved to show Doug where their wifi router was, which was of course on the second floor, leaving Edward alone with Alma in the now silent kitchen. 

Alma exhaled deeply, dragging her hands down her face. “I’m just gonna go lay down in the street if you need me.” 

Ed shot her a disapproving look. “Orange.” 

She rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Oh come on, I’m not allowed one joke right now?” 

“It’s not the one joke I’m worried about.” 

“Dad, seriously, it’s fine. I’m fine.” She licked the batter off of her spatula to demonstrate how fine she was, gesturing to her growing baking clutter. 

“What time does Eleanor’s flight get it?” He asked, tactfully changing the subject as he gently shifted Sophia on his hip, doing his best not to stir her from her napping. She snuggled her head deeper into the crook of his neck, letting out the smallest of sighs in her sleep as she did. 

“6 pm,” she answered, checking her phone again. Seven minutes. Her fiance was presenting at a conference in the States this weekend and wouldn’t be able to make it before the results came in. “She’s probably somewhere over Nebraska right now,” she groaned.

[kraekns]

HEADCANON : MENTAL ILLNESS .

edward had always been a . . . sensitive child , prone easily to fits of uncontrollable crying over the seemingly smallest of things one day , and near boundless energy the next . his father had always said it was the bit of the devil in him , a curse , he said , passed from mother to son . cruel jokes about edward being born wrong were common in the teach household , worsened by edwards fascination with the fashions worn by their mothers employers . those words never quite left their mind , distorting their view of themselves until they weren't quite sure what happened to that child who'd sent a buck toothed smile to their mother when allowed to try on one of her dresses .

as edward grew , these " moods " as their mother called them , became more frequent , worsened by their fathers treatment of both mother and child . cruel words were just as common as abuse , littering the both of them . . . yet nothing ever happened . no one came to save them , like their mother has promised . their was no salvation , no rest for their wicked souls .

after the death of their father , edward attempted to stay at his mothers side but soon left after getting word that a pirate ship was docked nearby . in the dark of the night , they stowed away , kissing their mothers frail cheeks and never looking back .

at sea , things seemed . . . good , for awhile . months passed on an unending high . they thrived in the new environment : quick wit and quicker fingers served them well and soon they were climbing the ranks . learning at the feet of an older boy who took the poor little stowaway under his wing . boundless energy served them well , insomnia leading to hours spent dedicated to their studies .

their first major depressive episode was shortly after becoming captain in their mid - 20s . the pressure , the change , the blood on their hands . they spent days in their cabins , taking ink and needle to skin and leaving most duties to izzy as they drifted aimlessly . ed spent weeks like this , barely sleeping , barely eating , snapping at the merest provocation . this was around the time they turned to drugs for the first time as well , taking anything they could find from terrified crew . drinking themselves sick in some desperate attempt to feel . . . anything .

these moods would color the rest of their adult life ; swinging from bouts of mania to deep , deep depression . through it all , izzy would follow closely behind , picking up the pieces as he went . following ed's whims , supporting him through the darkest nights .

the tldr of this rambling headcanon;

ed suffers from bipolar i & gender dysphoria. symptoms of both have been heavily present in the show so far .

depression lasting at least two weeks seen prominently following stede's betrayal, but also hinted at several times in season one when discussing ed's moods and their general apathy towards life. manic episodes including symptoms such as : talking very quickly , feeling full of energy, feeling full of great new ideas and having important plans, being easily distracted, doing things that often have disastrous consequences – such as throwing loot overboard in order to store more loot. for the most part , ed's moods are unprompted by triggers and rise and fall like the tide. his most volatile episodes have been, for the most part, triggered by something though. their father's death (running away), stede's arrival, and stede's betrayal.

[izzy-b-hands]

Crossed

Weird roadtrip au kind of thing??? in small random scenes?

TW for a moment of emetophobia in one scene

eventual steddyhands.

pls know that this entire fic literally only stemmed from me thinking abt Con doing that arm around the passenger seat thing while backing up a car and going 😳 😍👀 over it. That's it. It's been three days ajsndnfngn

anyway pls enjoy

---

"I don't mind driving," Izzy mocks himself. "Why did you say that? Why would you ever say that?"

"Do you not like driving?"

Izzy jumps at the sound of Frenchie's voice. "Thought you were helping order food."

"There's a slight argument over fries and them being salted or not," Frenchie says. "And it was getting..."

"Uncomfortable?"

"Putting it mildly considering it's literally just fries and Roach literally carries packets of salt and pepper and other stuff with him because...well, Roach," Frenchie replies. "I think we've been in the car too long."

They have, all of them, almost definitely. But Stede insisted that a cross country trip to a country none of them had been to would be good for them all. Bonding and fun and freedom!

Except he chose the United States, aka the biggest fucking desert of a country Izzy's ever had the displeasure to drive through. Not that it's all actually desert of course, but with how far away some cities are from the next, it may as well be.

Add in highway hypnosis now in the prairie states, and Izzy...Izzy is done.

"We've got to get to California yet," Izzy says. "Or Washington. Not sure if Stede and Ed have finally decided."

"How close are we?"

"We," Izzy announces as he peers at the maps app on his phone. "Are currently in Minnesota. That is approximately...1,400 miles and some change away. If we drive without stopping, it says we could get there in less than a day."

"Yeah, in an empty car that'll roll off a cliff into the sea," Frenchie snorts. "Well, not empty I guess. I think we'll all have killed each other by then, without a single break. So our corpses would be in there. Bloodstained windows the only sign of life as we roll through town..."

Izzy stares at Frenchie. "I think we should stick to taking breaks."

"Probably should."

--

"Seriously?" Izzy scoffs. "We were pulled to the side of the road before I started eating! The car is off!"

"All I see is a driver, in the driver's seat, eating. That's illegal here," the cop replies, shoving a ticket at him. "Not sure what else you expected."

"I expected after hours of driving while my food got cold, I could pull into an empty gravel fucking field near the highway and eat," Izzy scowls.

The cop studies him. "Step out of the car."

"Oh for fuck's sake-"

"Sir, I do not appreciate that tone. Out of the car, now."

Izzy looks back to his sleeping companions, all apparently out hard enough that none of this has so much as made them blink an eye open.

He steps out and hands over everything the cop asks for, down to his passport. Then he leans on the car and waits while everything is looked over.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

"What on earth are you doing out there?"

Izzy peers into the car. "How did you get to the front seat, Bonnet?"

"Crawled."

"Why?"

Stede pauses. "I'm not sure. I think I was still half asleep."

"Well, I'm in trouble for daring to eat in a stopped vehicle," Izzy mutters. "Asshole has been over at his car for ages now, 'checking documentation.' Surprised he didn't ask for-"

"Sir?" the cop trundles over. "I'm gonna need the paperwork for everyone in the car, and I've called a drug dog as I have reason to suspect you might be carrying something we don't want in this state."

Izzy gestures to Stede. "See?"

Stede clambers out of the driver's side door awkwardly to stand by Izzy. "Let me handle this! Sir, sir! I need to speak with you about this before you escalate things!"

The cop turns to them. "I'm escalating things?! Who the fuck even are you; where did you come from?"

Stede scoffs. "The car! Where else? Now this is a silly misunderstanding and I want this resolved!"

The cop blinks, then smirks with a lick of his lips. "Everyone out of the car."

"What?" Stede asks, clearly aghast.

"OUT OF THE CAR, NOW!"

"What did you two do?" Ed asks groggily as everyone makes a half asleep panic dash out of the car.

"I was eating," Izzy replies. It's not a lie.

"I got out of the car," Stede says.

Also not a lie.

Ed frowns. "I don't believe either of you, but I'm too cold and tired to dig into this. Can we just bribe him and leave?"

"Ed!" Stede hisses, then pauses. "Oh. You did read about that being done in the States now and again, didn't you?"

"I did. We don't plan to come back here, right?"

"Absolutely not," Izzy says, before Stede can make any differing plans for them.

"Then let's try it," Ed sighs, arms wrapped around himself in his oversized hoodie. "I want to go back to sleep. At this rate, I might be doing that in a jail cell no matter what."

Stede is the one to step forward, a couple of hundreds in his palm. "Um. Sir?"

Ten minutes later, they're a few hundred poorer and back on the road.

"Thank fuck that worked," Ed sighs in the backseat, snuggled against Wee John and Frenchie. "Now hopefully he doesn't realise those are the fakes Frenchie made up."

Stede, now up front in the passenger seat beside Izzy, shoots him a look.

Izzy presses the gas pedal slightly harder, and focuses on how many miles are left to get them out of North Dakota.

--

"Why is this place so much?" The Swede mutters. "Too much land."

"Too much to drive across," Izzy agrees. "They all out again?"

The Swede nods towards the backseat. "Think the food at the diner did it. So much food..."

"Stede wants us to experience the richness of the country," Izzy sighs. "And that was all certainly rich."

"He kept the leftovers in the cooler," The Swede mutters. "I can't. Maybe tomorrow I could try more, but I don't think I'll even be hungry for dinner."

"Buttons will eat whatever the rest of us can't," Izzy says. "Buttons with his iron stomach."

There's a tense pause, and Izzy instinctively slows the car just slightly.

"About to be sick?" The Swede asks. "Me too."

"Yup, give me a second to get us pulled off the road."

--

"We've decided on Washington!" Ed announces. "For sure this time."

"Please," Izzy mutters. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, you can put this town into the GPS," Stede adds, handing over a sticky note with a hastily scribbled name on it.

"This isn't in Washington," Izzy says. "This is in Oregon."

"Portland?" Stede wrinkles his nose. "No, we have it right."

"There was some sketch show literally set there," Jim says. "With the town name in the show name. That made clear the town is in Oregon."

"Was it any good?" Roach asks.

"I'm curious too," Stede says.

"Look," Izzy says, just loud enough to be heard over the beginning din. "I will drive to one state. Choose one. Google the fucking city and make sure of where it is. Otherwise I decide which city we stop at."

"Geez, fine Dad," Frenchie snorts. "Will you turn the car around next?"

"Yeah," Izzy whips around in his seat to stare Frenchie down. "Yeah. I fuckin' will. And then we'll have to spend another fucking...I don't even know how many hours in this car!"

He regrets it immediately. "Fuck. Frenchie, I'm sorry. And Bonnet-"

"No," Stede hesitates. "This was maybe too much all at once."

"No, it," Izzy splutters. "It... I'm just tired."

"I think we all are," Fang says softly. "Why don't we find an actual hotel instead of sleeping in the car, and start fresh tomorrow?"

"I can cover it," Izzy says, and puts the car back into gear before anyone can argue. Normally he'd have no wish to stay any longer in a place as bland as Idaho, but desperate times and desperate measures.

--

"Izzy," Stede sighs. "What is this I hear about you not buying yourself a room?"

"I'm good in the car," Izzy says through a mouthful of stale danish stolen from an ice cold brunch platter in the hotel lobby. "I haven't gotten to fully lay down in the backseat once yet. I'm excited for it."

"You're not serious."

"As serious as I am about stealing the rest of these when the clerk goes back into their office," Izzy gestures towards the remaining four danishes. "Fucking starving."

"I noticed you didn't eat much at the last drive thru," Stede says, arms crossed, bouncing lightly on his feet. "What's that about?"

"Only had time for a bite if we wanted to stay on schedule," Izzy replies. "And I wasn't going to try and eat in the car again after that last incident."

"Come on," Stede holds out his hand. "You accidentally got Ed and I a room with two queens."

"So long as you two are in there, yeah."

Stede snorts. "Well, we need a third one in there with us."

"You're okay sharing a bed with me?"

"What on earth do you mean?" Stede asks. "Ed-"

"Likes to sprawl out. And hasn't been able to for days on end. I got you two beds in the room for a reason."

"He'll end up on one alone, stretched out every which way," Stede says. "Never mind, good call."

"You still want to share with me?"

"I am not letting you sleep in the car," Stede replies, and snags his hand. "Forget the danishes. I told the clerk to switch out your credit card for mine for the rest of the charges on our room. They have room service until midnight, and it's only ten right now..."

"You'll spoil me," Izzy chuckles, but he's happily surprised. "I am sorry. About the thing in the car. This hasn't been all bad by any stretch."

"Yeah, but it has been...intense," Stede says as they wait for an elevator. "Maybe next trip, we pick one city and stay there for a week, hm?"

"Where do you have in mind?"

"I don't know. New Orleans?"

"It'll either be amazing or a complete disaster," Izzy says. "As long as someone else does more of the driving, I'll go."

"Good," Stede grins as they step into the first elevator and head up to the twelfth floor. "It might be an amazing disaster, you know."

"True," Izzy smiles.

"I was planning to give Ed a blowjob in Storyville, so long as I can find an appropriate place for it," Stede continues, leading Izzy out of the elevator and towards their room. "I'd love to do the same for you."

"What?"

"Iz!" Ed shouts as Stede opens the door. "I'm glad you listened to him and came up!"

"Did you hear him?" Izzy asks.

"About the blowjobs? Yeah," Ed smiles. "Come lay down! We've got bad movies to watch and room service to order."

"Okay," Izzy lets the tension flow out of his shoulders for the first time in days. "That all sounds good...blowjob included."

--

"This," Izzy sighs. "Isn't bad at all."

"That's it?" Ed giggles. "Poetry, Iz."

"Shush," Izzy scolds him playfully, tucked against him by Ed's arm around his waist.

On his other side is Bonnet, taking in the view of the sea from the grass and rocks near West Point Lighthouse.

"It was worth it," Frenchie says as he and Wee John pass by them to head back closer to the lighthouse. "By the way. Thanks for this, Stede."

"And Izzy, for doing so much driving!" Stede adds as they walk away. "Ah. Sorry about that."

"S'alright," Izzy says. "I know they're glad they didn't have to do much of it."

"I know it's sort of cold," Ed says. "But you guys wanna sit here for a little bit longer?"

Stede nods. "Everyone is either doing the same or wandering it seems. I think we have the time."

They carefully settle themselves down onto the ground, before resuming their previous snuggle.

"I know we had planned to fly out in the next day or so," Izzy says. "But maybe we stay an extra few days."

"I told you he was still having fun," Ed faux whispers and gently jabs Stede. "See?"

"I think that would be lovely," Stede smiles. "We'll get some hotel rooms and make another few days of it here."

Izzy nods and lets himself fully relax into Ed, listening to the crash of the waves.

[ripeteeth]

2022 fic roundup

It was a good year and I tried a lot of new things. I'm especially proud of no son of mine, as i love to push on all of juwon's buttons and make his misery shine

Completed:

Beyond Evil

no son of mine (jwds, E) "What do you want from me?" Juwon asked, and no one has ever said just you.

impact (jwds, E) It's a car crash, falling in love.

MDZS/The Untamed

zoetrope (songxuexiao, E) All ghost stories are love stories.

blood, bones, and butter (songxuexiao, E) A relationship, deconstructed. Served three ways.

Our Flag Means Death

rum luck (izzy/ed/stede, E) You’re a fool, Izzy Hands. You’re a fucking fool and you know it.

bellyache (ed/stede, past ed/izzy, E) “Oh,” Stede whispers. “Look at you. Aren’t you a hungry thing?” His head tilts; his steady hand wipes Edward’s lower lip. “How wretched of me, letting you go hungry like this.”

june hymn (ed/stede, E) “Tell me about this one,” he says. What he means is, where did it hurt?

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun

hapax legomenon (ranwan, E) It begins on a sunny day, in the wide middle of a broad street.

The Terror

so far from your weapon (jopson/tozer/little, E) There are some secrets Thomas never mentions, and Solomon Tozer knows every single one of them. [drabble-ish]

Wips Updated:

Disco Elysium

Revachol Calling, Chapter 7 (Harry/Kim, E) Somewhere in Jamrock, a church burns.

(A study in Kim Kitsuragi.)

Greek Myth

Asterius, Chapter 9 (Theseus/Asterius, E) Every nine years, a sacrifice is sent to the Labyrinth.

Kinnporsche

shotgunning, Chapter 1 (Vegas/Kinn/Porsche, E) "Do you want him?" Vegas asks. "Here, take him. He's all yours."

Heaven Official's Blessing/TGCF

long slow love song, Chapter 1 (fengqing, e) Mu Qing meets Feng Xin when they are seven years old. (A love story told in twenty years.)

[our-flag-means-death-ao3feed]

but with you the water laps

by acemaraudeer

“I didn’t take you for a morning person,”

“’m not,” he hears his voice say in return. The ocean is clear and shiny, it pushes and pulls against itself fighting to splash against the side of the ship. Stede leans over the edge, not climbing over and settling next to Ed, he’s not the one with a death wish after all, but just enough that Ed can see him now out of the corner of his eye. Whether that’s better or worse, Ed can’t bring himself to decide.

 --

Ed has taken to waking up early to think whilst the crew is asleep. Stede finds him one morning and they have a talk that they probably should have had a long time ago. Set after S1.

Words: 3686, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Stede Bonnet, Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Buttons (Our Flag Means Death), Jim Jimenez, Frenchie (Our Flag Means Death), Israel Hands

Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Additional Tags: Character Study, Fluff, Holding Hands, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Season/Series 01, Ed has some stuff to work through, Stede helps

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/44436460

[dracothelizard]

The WIP I'm currently working on is for an exchange, so I won't be sharing that, but have a WIP that's been languishing in my Scrivener file for a year!

Scare actor AU, does what it says on the tin, Stede is a newbie scare actor playing Dead Manor Lord and backstage he meets Ed who is Blackbeard in the Pirate Cove.

(Will this involve a costume swap??? Yes of course but I've not written that yet)

He’s on the hunt for more bobby pins for Evelyn’s hair, which takes him to the other side of the backstage area and into the corner where the Pirate Cove crew is getting ready. Stede gives the actors nods and smiles, all the while searching on the make-up tables for bobby pins. He definitely stands out in his frock coat amongst the leather-clad pirates, and deep down he’s jealous. These pirates all look cool, even without their make-up finished or fake beards fully applied. Given the choice between Lord of Ghost Manor and Ghost Pirate, he knows which one he’d pick.

Stede’s wondering if he can apply for the Pirate Cove next year when he spots a package of bobby pins on one of the make-up tables and snatches it. Lightning-fast, a hand reaches out and grabs his wrist.

“No thieving, or we’re gonna make you walk the plank!”

Stede gasps, looking up the man’s arm and into a smiling face. Or at least, he assumes the man is smiling behind his bushy beard. His brown eyes are warm, crinkled with amusement. “Oh, sorry!” He drops the bobby pins. “I didn’t think you were using these.”

The man snorts, then wrinkles his nose before smoothing down his moustache. “You kidding me? I need all of those for my wig!”

“All of them?” There are at least twenty bobby pins. The man can’t need that many, can he?

The man gestures at his hair. The long black and silver curls run down his shoulders and arms. It makes him look like a rockstar as much as a pirate, but Stede supposes that pirates kind of were the rockstars of their age. “It's a lot of hair, so yeah! What do you need ‘em for?”

Stede points at the area where the Witch’s Coven group is getting ready. “Some of the witches need bobby pins for their wigs, too.”

The man looks over, then eyes him. He leans closer, frowning as he looks at Stede’s forehead.

Stede blinks but doesn’t move, feeling flustered at the man suddenly studying him so closely. “Is there something in my hair?”

“That is your real hair, isn’t it?” The man steps back, smiling again. “I thought that was a wig!”

[ash-mcj]

When the Sunlight Paints Us Gold

ed and stede meet on a merchant vessel at eighteen years old—before pirating, before aliases, before their dreaded futures were anything more than a looming sentence on the horizon—and they find some temporary solace from the loneliness they’ve always known life to be

“After careful and extensive consideration, I’ve decided that I’m running away,” Stede announced in the doorway of his parents’ reading nook, his chin held high and his hands perched boldly on his hips.

The resounding silence was deafening—somehow even more so than it had been when Stede was searching for courage behind the closed door for the previous ten minutes—and the air was suddenly a suffocating void that seemed to have mercilessly eaten his declaration.

Finally, after the longest moment of Stede’s life, his father removed his reading glasses and set them on the open page of the book in his lap. 

“You’re what?” 

“Well, you see, I—well, as you’re aware, I’m turning eighteen this weekend” —Stede cleared his throat— “and I reckon that’s plenty old enough for it. Running away.”

“My hearing must be going, boy, because I know the words I thought I heard did not just come out of your mouth,” his father seethed, his voice low in a way that made Stede’s grip on his hips falter, and his hands dropped to his sides. “Do you know how many people on this island would string up their best friend to have a life like you happened to luck into, you ungrateful brat? And you want to run away?” 

“I belong on the sea, Father.”

Stede flinched as his father barked out a harsh, derisive laugh that felt like a sharp smack across his face, knocking the bravery from his chest and the determination from his mouth.

“You’re on the cusp of manhood, and here you are, still entertaining childish daydreams of a life at sea—which you know you’d never be capable of handling. What’s your plan, boy? How will you eat? How will you afford your clothes? Your books? Do you genuinely plan on getting a job as a seafarer? What, as a deckhand on a merchant vessel? You’ve never had to work for a single thing in your pathetic life—you’d be finding a way home at the first port stop.”

“That’s not true,” Stede said softly, past the lump growing in his throat.

“Darling,” his mother said, leaning to gently place her hand on his father’s forearm. “Perhaps… you should allow him to go?”

“Allow him to go?” his father repeated, his eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline—and Stede was equally as confused and surprised. His mother had never supported his dream of sea life.

“Well, think about it. The boy’s been infatuated with this fantasy since he was small—he clearly won’t drop it until he realizes how impractical it is. Surely, if he were to give it a go, he’d properly get it out of his system and retire the ridiculous idea for good. He may even return with a newfound sense of gratitude for the life you’ve built him, and a renewed dedication to his studies as your successor.”

Stede’s father hummed in thought as he blankly gazed out the window for an agonizingly long moment, before his eyes slid to Stede’s.

“You have one year to play out this little act of rebellion, and you’ll be on one of Abraham Stoley’s merchant vessels—he owns a respectable fleet. I’ll speak with him when I see him later today.”

Stede’s heart rate picked up so quickly, he thought he might faint. “Thank you so much, Father, I—”

“When you return,” he was sternly interrupted, “you will forget the ocean. You will never utter another word of the sea, ships, myths, pirates—ever again. Do you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll return here a man, Stede, or so help me, God. You drown your childish delusions at sea, and you come home with an eagerness to take your place in our society.”

“Of course,” Stede agreed. “You have my word.”

“Leave us,” his father snapped, waving his hand to shoo him out the door.

Stede barely made it to his bedroom before the exhilaration bubbling up in his chest escaped through a round of elated giggles, and his shaking hands grabbed at the seafaring books lining the shelf against his wall.

continue on AO3

[edactually]

Stede POV - 6.2

Stede had wanted to invite Ed over to his house, but he knew that the two of them being alone together was just asking for trouble. A museum was public, a museum was a place of interest and learning. Nothing sexy about a museum but plenty to keep Stede distracted from what he wanted to do to Ed.

Or so he thought.

Stede had been incredibly arrogant to underestimate the influence Ed had over him. Even though he was dressed entirely in black again - without even a pop of colour - just Ed’s presence was enough to make Stede weak in the knees. It wasn’t even a particularly extravagant outfit (he deduced that Ed was probably trying to blend in as much as possible to avoid being recognised), it was just his usual black jeans and t-shirt, but there were two things that stood out and scrambled Stede’s head so much that he couldn’t form a coherent thought.

Ed was wearing Stede’s leather jacket.

Ed had his hair in a ponytail.

It was an utterly cruel combination that set Stede’s blood thrumming through his veins. He did his best to greet Ed normally, albeit without a hug or even their little secret handshake, but he wondered if his thoughts were written plainly across his face for Ed to read.

Thoughts of Ed on his knees with Stede’s cock in his mouth, Stede’s hand gripping tightly onto that ponytail and making Ed moan around him as he swallowed him down to the base. Ed was naked except for Stede’s jacket, caressing parts of his body that Stede would ultimately put his hands all over and marking Ed possessively as being Stede’s. His jacket around Ed’s shoulders. His Ed.

He tried to banish such thoughts from his mind as they walked around the museum together. They made casual small talk, neither one of them bringing up their conversation from yesterday and how they had firmly shifted their relationship into the friend zone. It wasn’t their usual playful banter at all, just polite chit-chat, and Stede ached to get back to the way they had been before.

Stede wanted Ed so badly it felt like he couldn’t breathe, his chest tight every time he looked at the other man, but he’d done the right thing to preserve their friendship, hadn’t he? By stopping things before they crossed a line they couldn’t come back from, he’d made sure that he wouldn’t ruin Ed’s desire for a bit of no-strings fun before he went on tour with complicated confessions.

Besides, even if he had allowed it to go further, what hope did Stede have of maintaining Ed’s interest? He had only ever been with Mary and despite Ed’s reassurances that it wasn’t a bad thing and didn’t make him pathetic, it certainly did nothing for making Stede good in bed. He’d tried to do his research since coming out, so he did understand things in theory (although his additional research on the hanky code had opened up a whole new realm of sexual activities he’d never known existed) but theory and practice were two very different things.

Stede knew in reality that he would be nervous and fumbling as he tried to remember everything he’d studied. Ed was worldly, experienced, he needed someone like that to match him, not an almost-virgin like Stede Bonnet. 

Maybe one day, after Stede had some of his own experience under his belt, maybe then they could float the possibility of taking things further again. But that felt wrong to him as well, like he would be using other men and collecting them like coins in a video game, all just to be good enough to meet someone else’s standards. Ed was the grand prize, but it was wrong to use and discard other people in the name of getting to him.

Either he tried to pursue things with Ed as practically-virginal Stede or as callous user-of-other-men Stede, but neither one of those options felt right. 

Maybe it was a sign that Ed just wasn’t meant for him.

Stede was doing his best not to dwell on that too much by pointing out different things he hoped Ed would find interesting. They were currently wandering through the museum’s insect collection. A rather morbid display, in Stede’ opinion, but fascinating nonetheless to be able to view all the different intricacies and colours up close that one wouldn’t normally be able to observe in the wild.

“Look at this one!” He pointed to a pink and yellow moth, wings outstretched in its display cabinet. “Dryocampa Rubicunda, more commonly known as the candied melon silk moth or rosy maple moth. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Ed barely glanced at the display. “Great, another bug. Cheers.”

Any enthusiasm Stede had faded in an instant. He’d been a fool to think Ed would find any of this interesting. He’d been a fool about a lot of things.

He didn’t want to risk meeting Ed���s gaze and having to explain all the hurt that he knew must be plainly obvious on his face, so he settled for looking back at the display cabinet and running a finger over the little notecard on the front that had interesting tidbits about the specimens.

“What does that say? Your finger is covering it.”

Ed had moved up behind him, standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder with Stede and looking down into the display cabinet.

Stede glanced at him with a touch of trepidation as he moved his finger to read the notecard. “The rosy maple moth is the smallest of all the silk moths and is polygynandrous, which means the females find a new mate each time during breeding season.”

Ed let out a small laugh, nothing more than a brief huff of air, but Stede felt his spirits start to lift. “Suppose it is pretty interesting, for an insect.”

Even if Ed was humouring him and only feigning interest, it was enough to give Stede hope that this day wasn’t a total waste and they were starting to get their friendship back on track. He wanted to suggest that they get out of here and do something Ed would definitely find interesting, but they were interrupted by a young couple.

“Excuse me,” The taller of the two asked. “But are you Blackbeard?”

Ed rolled his shoulders and Stede felt like he could see the mask slipping into place, obscuring Ed from his view. “That’s me.”

“No way!” The shorter man in the couple looked giddy. “What are you doing in a museum?”

“Top secret mission.” Ed rested his hip against the display cabinet in flagrant disobedience of the sign that said not to touch.

“Can we get a photo?”

“Just make it quick.”

Stede was practically shoved out of the way for the couple to crowd in next to Ed, phone outstretched to take a selfie of the two of them grinning like madmen while Ed glowered at the camera with Blackbeard’s usual dangerous and sultry expression. They were gushing their appreciation for his time and over the new single when the shorter of the two finally noticed Stede. “Hey, you look really familiar.”

“Me?” Stede looked around, but they were the only ones in the room. The insect specimen exhibits clearly weren’t the most popular place on a Sunday afternoon. “I don’t know why I would.”

“I definitely recognise you from somewhere.” The man frowned and nudged his partner. “Nick, where do I know this guy from?”

His boyfriend stopped gushing over Ed for two seconds to really take a look at Stede and then gasped. All of a sudden, Stede became the centre of attention as Nick barged over to him. “No way! It’s the fainting guy!”

“Fuck off, you’re right!” Now Nick’s boyfriend had crowded in close as well and their expressions had changed from delight at finding one of their rock idols to utter contempt as they glared at Stede. “You ruined the fucking show!”

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Stede felt like backing away with his hands in the air in supplication as the two men came even closer.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve stalking Blackbeard like this. Making him stop a gig for your sake wasn’t enough, now you’re following him on his days off?” Nick jabbed a finger into Stede’s chest. “God, you’re so desperate for attention. It’s pathetic.”

Pathetic.

Pathetic.

The word seemed to echo around the small room like it was cavernous and tears pricked hot in Stede’s eyes. All he’d wanted was a nice day out.

Both men suddenly fell backwards and it took Stede a second to register that it was because Ed had grabbed the necks of their shirts and hauled them away from him. Nick still had his phone in his hand that he'd used to take the selfie and Ed snatched it from him and threw it to the hard-tiled floor. The sound of the screen breaking was clear but not satisfying enough for Ed, who stomped on the phone with his boot and twisted the heel so all any of them could hear was the sickening sound of crunching glass.

When Ed lifted his boot, Nick fell to his knees and scooped up the shattered remains of his phone, obviously far beyond repair. “You- you-”

“No one will ever fucking believe you.” Ed hissed and jerked his head towards the door. “You both have ten seconds to get out of here before I break something else.”

“You can’t just–”

“Hmm, would a leg or an arm have a more satisfying snap? Eight seconds.”

The couple decided not to take the risk and ran out of the room as fast as their legs could carry them. Ed didn’t bother to watch them go, just walked right over and placed a hand on Stede’s shoulder. “Are you ok?”

He was in shock. “Ed, you can’t just destroy someone’s property!” Even if it had been fucking hot and Stede very much wanted to kiss Ed about it until his lips were bruised.

“No one gets to treat you like that.” And Ed’s voice was hardened steel, harsh and angry and yet Stede could see him trembling.

Don’t kiss him don’t kiss him don’t kiss him

“We should go before they tell security what happened.” Ed didn’t move, so Stede grabbed his hand and started towing the man after him as he directed their route out of the museum.

He had no reason to hold Ed’s hand once they were outside again, but he didn’t have the strength to let it go. He couldn’t kiss Ed, but friends could hold hands, right? 

Swinging their clasped hands between them would be crossing the line though.

Stede noted that the fire of Ed’s anger seemed to have ebbed away, but he still didn’t say anything as they walked hand in hand down the street. Stede wasn’t even sure where they were going, he just knew if they stopped then Ed might notice they were still holding hands and find it weird. But they had to discuss what had just happened in there. “You shouldn’t have done that, Ed.”

He got a grunt in response. Stede knew exactly what that grunt was supposed to convey - Ed wasn’t sorry, and he’d do it again.

“Seriously,” Stede continued “You destroyed his phone, you could get into real trouble.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Ed suddenly stopped and Stede’s arm jerked backwards as he did. Ed didn’t let go of his hand. “He thinks he can act all buddy buddy with me and take selfies then start verbally attacking my friend? He’s lucky that his phone is the only thing I broke.”

“He didn’t know I was your friend.” And why would he? Who would recognise the man who fainted at QAR’s gig and caused the whole show to be cancelled and assume that he was friends with Blackbeard? Those fans thinking that he was stalking Ed to try and get attention was probably one of the kinder assumptions about him. “You shouldn’t threaten people in my defence.”

Ed looked at him, brown eyes soft and melting. “Are you mad at me?”

Stede doubted there was anything Ed could do that would make him angry with him at this point. He could hardly tell the truth, that seeing Ed defending his honour like that had been both thrilling and very, very attractive. “I’m not mad,” was what he settled on. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble for my sake.”

And that seemed to appease Ed as he set the two of them walking hand-in-hand again. “They’ve got no evidence it was me.”

It wasn’t enough to keep Stede from worrying, but now that the earlier awkward tension between them had disappeared, he felt brave enough for a subject change that had been on his mind since Ed had first shown up at the museum. “You’re wearing my jacket.”

“I needed to return it to you,” Ed shrugged. “Would have forgotten and left it somewhere if I was just carrying it, made more sense to put it on.”

So much for Stede’s theory that Ed had worn it to feel closer to him. That’s what Stede had started doing with the fuchsia robe at home. He couldn’t think of it as anything but Ed’s robe now, and he’d spent many private moments this last week with the velvet wrapped tightly around him, breathing in the scent of Ed that clung to the fabric.

He liked seeing Ed wearing his jacket.

Ed’s phone chimed and Stede tried not to be annoyed about it as Ed paused to check the notification. Stede really needed to teach him how to put it on silent. Then again, he probably needed to keep it loud so he was always reachable. Busy life of a rockstar and all that.

Just as he’d suspected, Ed sighed. “Gotta go. Yet another thing about the upcoming tour to deal with. Problem with one of the venues and Izzy thinks they’ll be more receptive to me sweet-talking them than him.”

Something about the way Ed said it made Stede think that their understandings of sweet-talk were not the same.

He started to remove the jacket and Stede stopped him with a hand on his arm. “No, you’ll be cold.”

The corner of Ed’s mouth quirked upwards. “Got to give this jacket back to you sometime.”

“Not if it means you’ll be left without one.” 

Ed seemed to think on it for a moment, chewing at his lip. Stede tried not to recall how those lips felt sliding over his own as he waited for whatever Ed was struggling to say. “You could always come and pick it up from my place?”

Ed’s place.

Private. Just the two of them. Alone with nothing to keep Stede from temptation but his own weak self-control.

Bad idea. Very bad idea.

“Yes, I can do that.”

“Cool. I’ll text you the address. I’m at the studio all day tomorrow, so maybe Tuesday?”

Curse their conflicting schedules lately. “I have to stay late at the office on Tuesday, there’s an international call we all need to be on. Wednesday?”

“Another studio day, but I can finish earlier on Wednesday. Any time after eight pm is fine.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Their next (not) date was arranged, yet neither of them made any motion to leave. There was still so much left unsaid but now wasn’t the right time. Still, he just couldn’t go until he knew for certain that-

“Are we good?”

Ed spoke while Stede was still in the middle of his thought process and he noted that the other man looked somewhat uncomfortable. His eyes were on his boots, toeing at a discarded bottle cap on the ground.

And Stede was decidedly not good. He was pleased that the tension had dropped, but they weren’t exactly back to how they had been before. He wasn’t sure that they ever could be, not when he knew how Ed tasted, knew how it felt to have the man in his lap grinding frantically against him and stoking a fire in his blood that still hadn’t been extinguished. Every time he closed his eyes he could picture the two of them on that rooftop, what could have happened next had he not had to leave.

But that was out of the question now. Damn it, Stede had been the one to decide that. “I’m good if you’re good.”

It was a total lie but the alternative was telling Ed that he regretted his decision and wanted them to be more than friends.

Ed finally dropped their clasped hands and Stede fought the urge to curl his warm hand into a fist as if he could lock away the sensation of Ed’s hand held in his there.

“I’m good.” Ed said.

Because obviously Ed was fine with it. All he was dealing with was a bit of awkwardness. He wasn’t trying to cope with the desperate longing to be more than friends like Stede was. Ed just had to get over this uncomfortable little hitch in their friendship and then things would be fine again for him. Stede didn’t know if he’d ever be able to get over it, but he wasn’t about to let on that that was the case.

Ed’s hand extended towards him in a fist and Stede gratefully clasped his hand around it and shook it. 

At least that wasn’t gone.

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[ao3feed-thor]

Flag of Mischief

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Q7YC8Sg

by Arcadias_Fire

The Prison of Shadows always has room for one more, even if they don't stay for long. But sometimes unlikely friendships are formed, making the stay a little less like torture.

***

“Oh, he’s dead now, assuming that's happened.” He stroked his beard. "Prob'ly hasn't."

Loki laughed. “Well, death doesn’t usually stick to me for very long. I suppose I’ll take my chances.”

“He was a prat anyway. Besides, don’t think we have much of a choice.” Ed cast his eyes to the sky.

“No.” Loki put his oar back in the water. “I suppose that’s true.” When Ed put his own oar back in the water, Loki started to row again. “I'm sure I can help, but it's been a while since I've been around ships of this technology level."

“Shouldn’t be a problem, man. Nobody else fucking knows what they’re doing either.”

Words: 3783, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Prison of Shadows

Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Loki (TV 2021), Thor (Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Loki (Marvel), Stede Bonnet, Jim Jimenez, Oluwande Boodhari, Israel Hands, Lucius Spriggs

Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet, Blackbeard | Edward Teach & Loki (Marvel), Black Pete/Lucius Spriggs, Loki (Marvel)/Lucius Spriggs, Implied/Referenced Tom Hiddleston/Loki

Additional Tags: Adventure & Romance, Imprisonment, Blackbeard | Edward Teach Needs a Hug, Time Shenanigans, Fix-It of Sorts, Character Study, Multiverse, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Polyamory, Implied/Referenced Incest, POV Multiple, Alternate Universe, Time Skips, Time Travel Fix-It

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Q7YC8Sg