#izzy's fucked up adoring gaze

[beelzeballing]

yknow i talk abt izzy in the toe scene a lot but. "okay. clean yourself up, then come find me"?????? EDWARD.???????????

[biceratops7]

*Wakes up in a cold sweat*

Ed and Stede give eachother exactly what they need. It’s the way Ed looks at Stede and the way Stede says Ed’s name. They share these rituals together in a way neither dreamed possible.

There is a running visual motif of Stede being looked at. In these moments we’re placed (literally, talking about the camera here) in his point of view, where we can feel how… confronting it all is for him. His father glaring down at him with dissatisfaction that’s long since boiled into anger. His wife staring at him in an awkward silence like the frustration of being lost in emotional translation isn’t even worth a comment anymore. Nigel’s mocking gaze, Izzy’s calculated focus, It’s all to make you feel how unflinchingly exposed he is… but not vulnerable. He doesn’t get that because in order to be so you need to be understood. Stede lives with all eyes on him, but is not seen.

Then there’s Edward, who essentially has the same crushing issue but with a different presentation. His motif is his name, and what the other characters choose to call him is indicative of if they know him, or just know of him. Blackbeard is what he answers to most, but it’s not something he identifies with in the present, at best he has a very complicated relationship with the person that name represents. The greatest sailor who ever lived, the devil pYrate, a persona he perfected that has flown to the tallest mountains dragging Ed behind him. The only characters that call him Ed/ Edward unprompted or unironically are Stede, and interestingly… Izzy. We’ll come back to that later.

Now here comes Ed, sauntering out of the hell fire and into Stede’s life like the patron Saint of leather daddies. And here we see that same familiar pov shot, and boy does Ed fucking LOOK at him. The last sight Stede sees before he conks the fuck out is this beautiful man who’s heard so much about him at his… well, Stede-iest, and is gazing at him like the loveliest thing in the world right now would be to know him even more. Ed’s heart eyes are no joke, they’re famous for a reason. Each time he looks at Stede, it is giving, it is wanting, it is a deliberate act of love.

Of course in the same sense Stede fills the hole in Ed’s life as well (not that one shut up), the desire not to be revered, but beloved, known. To just be… Edward.

Stede used to have no noteworthy opinion on the matter of Blackbeard, enthralled by the legends as anyone else… until he met him, saw this kind and excitable man who loved all the things everyone else found silly. And suddenly now it’s none of his business. Stede doesn’t push, gets offended when information is revealed to him without Ed’s consent. He treasures all the ways he can get to know Ed, and holds space for whenever he can’t. He still admires Blackbeard sure, but only because he’s one of many facets that create someone far more interesting: Edward. From Stede, Ed’s real name is spoken with love, playfulness, simple familiarity, returning the warmth of the way Ed looks at him like another fine thing he deserves. Even when he’s not actually around to hear it, the natural thought process in Stede remains.

I think it adds nuance and depth to each relationship that this is presented in foil with Izzy, because Izzy uses Ed’s real name as a commodity. It has value only as a threshold of hierarchy for Blackbeard’s inner circle, which as the previously sole member, Izzy is preoccupied with keeping exclusive. He’s possessive of a concept, and the more he learns just how different “Ed” is from it, the more the simple notion of Ed becomes ridiculous. Though both call him “Edward”, it’s only Stede that does so as an unconscious demonstration that he accepts Ed’s autonomy of personhood and is adoring of whomever that is.

The last time we hear Izzy say “Edward”, it’s mocking. To him the name now only represents the pitiful death of a greater ideal “Ed” decidedly is not. The last time Stede says it, it’s when he’s confessing to Mary that he loves him. One instance treats Ed’s name as a mask of his true self, and an inferior one at that, and the other is quite literally revealing.

The image he holds when he tells Mary he’s in love is Edward looking up at him smiling, breaking bread, completely un-pedestaled and joyful to be so. And Stede knows understanding now, being wanted, vulnerability, comfort. He calls those all Ed.

[run-me-through-but-not-like-that]

I adore your works! Maybe some aftercare for Izzy? It’s the first time one of his partners stuck around afterwards and Reader just gently cleans him up and wants to cuddle and Izzy’s incredibly confused (so is reader, since they’re stunned that no one’s ever given Izzy any aftercare).

Izzy experiences aftercare for the first time and cries about it a little.

Warnings: Starts just after a NSFW scene but there is no NSFW content, illusions of Izzy's bad past sexual experiences. Hurt/Comfort.

Aftercare:

White dots danced behind his eyelids, the buzzing in his ears fading enough for him to hear the way your breathing mixed together. Every inch of Izzy’s skin buzzed, warm and flushed, and prickling under the cool air.

The goosebumps were soothed away by your hands. It was only as your hand caressed over his chest that he realised you were still there, still touching him. Izzy braced himself for your retreat, for the cold that came once your body slipped from the cot and inevitably from his cabin. That was the part that came next.

Then your body was gone, just as he anticipated. Your hands were gone and the cot shifted as you moved. He finally blinked his eyes open, not wanting to show too much weakness, but kept his gaze on the ceiling. He didn’t want to watch you leave, normally it didn’t impact him too much to see his partner leave without even glancing back, but he didn’t think he could bear watching you leave. Not after the mess you had made out of him.

Something warm and damp touched the inside of his thigh, making him flinch. He relaxed a little at the gentle sound of your laugh, pushing himself up onto his elbows to look at you.

“Relax, love. Just a cloth, just want to clean you up a little.” 

You were sitting on the edge of the cot, carefully stroking a damp cloth over the inside of his thigh, wiping away the evidence of what just happened.

“That looked pretty intense. Just lay back, let me take care of you.”

Izzy wanted to scoff. Of course it looked intense, he couldn’t count the number of times you brought him to the edge of damnation only to deny him again. What he did know was that afterward he had come so hard he thought he blacked out, he actually might have a little bit.

Izzy didn’t do that though. He just nodded dumbly and lay back down, staring up at the ceiling and focusing on the feeling of your hands on his body. 

“You did so good, Izzy. Took it all so well, so beautiful,” you murmured as you worked, every word tugging at his heart.

You finished wiping down his thighs and tenderly cleaned over the place that was most sensitive, shushing him when he let out a little whine.

“Almost done, Iz,” you assured as you wiped the cloth over his stomach. “There we go, got the most of it.”

He nearly sobbed when you stood from the cot again, feeling the sudden need to have you close. Nobody had ever stayed so long after fucking him, nevermind took the time to clean him up.

But you returned before he could dwell on your absence for too long. “Don’t worry, it’s a fresh cloth.” Your reassurance confused him until he felt the damp corner of a cloth touch his cheek.

You tenderly wiped his face and neck, freshing him up and ridding him of dried sweat and tears. Then you were gone again but only for a moment.

“How are you feeling?” you asked gently, hand caressing his cheek. Izzy couldn’t quite answer but he did find himself leaning into your touch.

“Does anything hurt or ache?” He shook his head, unable to find his words.

“Do you want a drink?” He nodded before he realised he was even doing it, only just realising how scratchy his throat felt.

You were almost immediately pressing a cup of water to his lips, helping him drink from it. Once the cup was empty you placed it back down and fixed the pillow under Izzy’s head.

He could only watch you, unsure of what you were doing or how to react. He had never found himself in this situation before.

You slipped into the empty space beside him and fixed the blanket so it was draped over you both. His gaze flickered over to your face as you combed your fingers through his hair, your adoring smile and soft eyes making his breath catch.

“Can I stay the night?” you asked. Your relationship with Izzy is yet to be defined so you didn’t want to cross any boundaries but the thought of leaving him right now maybe you ache.

Izzy, feeling just as dumb and confused as when you first touched that cloth to his skin, just nodded. You smiled and actually thanked him as you lay down properly beside him.

“Are you alright? You’re a little tense,” you worried, stroking a hand over his flushed skin. Over his chest and down his arm, just wanting him to relax.

“‘M’fine,” Izzy slurred, limbs heavy with exhaustion.

“Just sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

Izzy couldn’t fight you as you guided him closer, letting him lay his head against your chest as you wrapped your arms around him. Perfectly comfortable on his little cot. One hand stroked up and down his arm, your other tangled loosely in his hair.

You felt electric, holding the first mate to your chest, body and mind sated. You could have drifted off to sleep in that moment, until you felt something wet against your chest. You frowned a little in confusion but ignored it, then smiled at the thought that Izzy had already fallen asleep and was possibly drooling on you. It should have been a little gross but you thought it was adorable.

Then Izzy’s shoulders shook. It wasn’t even visible, if you hadn’t been holding him you wouldn’t have noticed. But you were, and you did.

“Izzy?” you asked quietly, realising that the man was crying. Suddenly, sleep was the last thing on your mind.

“Izzy?” you eased yourself up into a sitting position so as to not disturb Izzy too much. He sniffled and instinctively tried to turn his head away, but you tenderly took his face in your hands to keep him focused on you. “What’s wrong? Did I do something you didn’t like? How can I fix it?”

You kept your voice calm and steady despite your frantic worrying. Everything had seemed perfectly fine, better than fine actually, it all seemed to go incredibly well. You wracked your brain, trying to find where you went wrong.

Your thumbs wiped away his tears but apparently that only made him cry more, a broken little sob escaping his kiss bitten lips. “Izzy, sweetheart, please speak to me.”

“Why?” Izzy croaked. At least he was speaking.

“Why?” you repeated quietly, trying to understand the question. “Why what?”

You waited patiently as Izzy swallowed the lump in his throat. “Why are you doing…this?” he asked.

“This?” you frowned, eyebrows pinching together. You knew you were pretty much just repeating everything he said so far but you couldn’t be sure of what he was asking. Why had you slept with him? Why had you made sure he was comfortable afterwards? Surely that wasn’t what he meant…

“Cleaning and…holding me. Why are you staying?”

Oh…so that was what he meant…

“...do you want me to leave?” you asked carefully, pulling back just enough to give him some space without taking your hands away from his face.

You were glad you left your hands where they were because the desperate way Izzy shook his head and how a sob built up in his throat made your chest ache. Though, not as much as when he grabbed your wrists, holding them nearly tight enough to hurt. The plea was silent but more than loud enough for you. Don’t leave.

“It’s alright, Izzy. I’m not going anywhere, not unless you want me too,” you promised him, leaning in closer again. Once he appeared to calm down a little, you asked, “you want to know why I’m looking after you?”

Izzy nodded, eyes glistening and vulnerable. You had never seen him like this before, even if you had only known him since he and Blackbeard boarded the Revenge, even if you had only been intimate a handful of times. This was different.

Your thumb brushed along his cheekbone. “Izzy, I…has nobody ever stayed afterwards before?” It was becoming more challenging to keep your voice steady. You wanted to cry for him.

Izzy just stared at you, like the question was in some way confusing. “Why would they?”

“Oh…oh love,” your heart just broke for him, and you suddenly wanted to hurt anyone who had ever laid their hands on him, who didn’t deserve him. But Izzy was more important than all of that right now, and you wanted to keep all of your attention on him. “Well, I want to stay. I want to make sure you’re alright. That you’re happy and comfortable. I want to make sure you don’t regret anything we did and still feel good. I want to hold you and care for you. For me, it’s just as important as the sex. More so, even.”

As you spoke, you absently petted at his hair, face, and neck. Just wanting to offer some comforting touches, and it seemed somewhat effective. He kept leaning into your touches, nuzzling into your palms and sighing under your touches. Even if he didn’t realise he was doing it.

“What do you get out of it?” Izzy asked.

You didn’t think you’d have to be describing the point of aftercare or the desire to cuddle tonight, but here you were.

“I get to know that you’re satisfied and happy, that I haven’t left you hurt or wanting. The best part is just getting to hold you and be close to you, though, if I’m being honest,” you told him evenly. “But even if I didn’t get anything out of it, I would still do it. It’s just as much about what you need as about what I need.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, carefully kissing away the fresh tears that had fallen over his cheeks. When you pulled away enough to get a better look at his face, you could see that he just looked drained.

“Do you want to sleep, love?” you asked, gently scratching your nails over his scalp.

Izzy sighed at the feeling before nodding. He felt absolutely exhausted, even more so than before.

“How about this? We make ourselves comfortable again and get some sleep, and then we can talk more tomorrow,” you suggested. Right now it looked like Izzy just needed some proper rest.

“Do we have to talk?” he grumbled. You couldn’t help but smile a little bit at the slight glimpse at the Izzy you were used to, grumpy and so very against talking things through.

“Yeah, love, I think we do,” you smiled sympathetically. “But we don’t have to talk until you’re ready, okay?”

Izzy assessed your expression for something, maybe trying to tell if you were being honest. “...okay,” he nodded.

You lent in to press a few kisses to his face, on his cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally the corner of his mouth. Letting the tension seep from his body, Izzy let you guide him back down onto the cot. Let you bring him back down against your body again and pull the blanket over your bodies.

This time, Izzy was shameless in the way he clung to you, nuzzling his face against your neck. You felt him exhale against your skin, his body melting against yours. 

“I like it…this…what you were doing,” Izzy confessed quietly.

“Good, love. That’s kinda the point,” you smiled, hoping he didn’t mind the gentle teasing. “You tell me what you like and I’ll do more of it. Tell me you don’t like something and I’ll stop. That’s the deal.” Your fingers found their place in his hair again, massaging his scalp, it was something he seemed to like a lot.

Izzy nuzzled closer, huffing when it caused your hand to still. You just chuckled to yourself fondly, pressing your fingers into his scalp again.

“Feel like I’ve ruined it,” he whispered.

“No, Izzy. You haven’t ruined anything. You were wonderful, so perfect. Thank you so much for telling me what was wrong and talking to me about it, thank you for letting me help,” you praised, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, holding him a little tighter. “You did so perfectly, love. You’re perfect.”

Izzy felt the tears welling again but they were…good tears, he thinks.

And then he was falling into a peaceful deep sleep to your gentle praise and loving touches, knowing that he was safe and cared for. Almost completely certain that you would still be there, still be holding him, when he woke up.

[selene-and-the-cold]

So, my incredible binge journey of OF/MD is over and I consider myself officially obsessed and hereby offer my first humble contribution to what is the very soft and very squee-worthy OF/MD snz-fic community.

This is really just a drabble and a first attempt of mine to get into the swing of things. Haven't done ANY fanfic writing in ages and never for these guys, so don't known if I matched the tone, but I humbly offer a short snipped of shy and awkward Ed and Stede cuddles blatantly inspired by that pillow-fort scene, but re-imagined into something soft, not the heartbreak-hell it is in the series.

Mostly awkwardness and fluff with a bit of snz.

There was a knock on the cabin door, but Ed chose to ignore it.

Another knock

“Go away!” Edward yelled. To his dismay, it sounded rather whiny. Thank God Izzy hadn't heard.

Silence.

Then the soft turn of the doorknob. For fuck's sake, why would anyone care to knock in the first place if they just decided to barge in anyway?!

“Ed?” Stede's voice drifted into the room. Soft and tentative. “Where... where are you?”

Stede stood in the room, looking about. Edward was no where to be found, neither at the desk, nor in bed or on the couch.

“I'b here... in the blanket fortress...”

“The..?” Following the lead of Edward's voice, Stede looked around to find a construct of throws and pillows behind a curtain to his library. He smiled, then pushed the curtain aside.

“Blue pillow's the entrance door... snfff” Edward hated how pathetic his voice sounded and he would have killed anyone who'd dare to intrude into his private affairs like this. Except Stede. It was kind of Stede's thing to intrude into his affairs and Ed had come to accept it. Come to like it even.

The blue pillow was moved away with a soft whoosh that revealed Stede's face and blond locks. His coiffure was adorably tousled and askew.

“May I come in?”

Ed shrugged. “Why ndot... if you like...”

“Of course I would!,” Stede enthused, his trademark-boyish grin lighting up his face.

Stede struggled to get in, trying it feet first, then thinking better of it and crawling in on his belly, head first, carefully dragging his feet in after himself until he was awkwardly half-lying, half-crouching next to Ed.

Edward himself was resting on a nest of pillows and throws. Upon closer inspection, Stede also spotted one of his silken banyans in the mix. The one with the floral pattern that suited Ed so well.

“It's nice in here.. Comfortable, solid pillow fort...,” Stede commented, looking around with an appreciative gaze, his face doused in the flickering light of the candle.

“... and umm.. may I ask why you built this, Edward?”

Ed gave a soupy sniffle that sounded incredibly wet and thick.

“Dunno... just.. felt like I ndeeded some space for mby-... hehhh... snnnf... mbyself.”

Firm knuckles hastily came up to squash a quivering nose. Now that Stede got a closer look, he saw the shadows that haunted Edward's face, clouding the fire in his eyes to a dull, blary gaze.

“I like it. It's like your own private cave aboard the ship. A true pirate's cave.” Another appreciative nod from Stede before an uncomfortably long pause set in, filled with Ed's involuntary sniffles and Stede's unspoken thoughts.

“We umm... we missed you at dinner,” Stede finally said, shooting Edward a meaningful glance. “You know, the crew and I....”

“Wasn't hungry.” Another deep sniffle, then the rustling of fabric as Edward pulled the blanket tighter around himself, avoiding Stede's gaze.

“Mmhmm... I see. And does this sudden loss of appetite perhaps have something to do with that raging storm we encountered a few days ago. You know, the one where you got drenched to the very bone.”

Stede had noticed that Edward had become more and more quiet over he past few days. He had even passed on a possible raid and had willingly left most of their co-captain duties to Stede – much to Izzy's dismay.

Then last night, Edward had kept tossing and turning in his sleep, the quiet of the night disturbed by stray, irritated coughs, and a few muffled sneezes. Stede could tell that Edward was unwell, but he seemed reluctant to talk about it.

Ed avoided his gaze, finding a sudden interest in one of the blanket's red tassels.

“Perhaps...”

Stede hummed sympathetically, then brought a hand up to Ed's hair, his fingers gently raking through the soft locks. Edward sighed, then relaxed back into his pillows, eyes closing as Stede's gentle touch travelled from his hair to his cheek, cool fingertips brushing over a feverish blush.

“How about I bring you a cup of tea into your pirate's cave?,” Stede suggested, his legs already shifting in preparation for him to wiggle out of the fort.

Suddenly, he felt the grip of a hand around his wrist, Ed's glassy wide eyes searching his.

“Ndo, don't go. I... I.. Hihh-ESSSHhhU!”

The sneeze shuddered through Ed's entire body, locks of hair falling into his face.

“Bless you, Edward!”

“Sniff... Thank you!” Surprised by his own sudden outburst, Ed snatched back his hand, letting go of Stede. “Sorry, I did ndot mbean to grab you like that.”

“It's fine,” Stede reassured him, awkwardly scooting closer. “Is there, perhaps by any chance some room for me under this blanket?”

“I think so,” Ed huffed, but his eyes were soft and warm as he moved his body so Stede could slip under the blanket next to him. They lay awkwardly next to each other for a few moments, Stede glancing over with a nervous smile, before Ed decided to fuck it all and just snuggled up to Stede, resting his head on the smooth fabric of Stede's waistcoat. Stede's arm immediately wrapped around him, and he felt the blond man kiss the top of his hair with such fondness that is made him smile.

“I could tell you a story while we rest,” Stede suggested, stroking the waves of Ed's hair as he pirate sniffled into his waistcoat.

“Ok,” Ed agreed with another pathetic sniffle, his head resting heavily on Stede's chest, eyes drooping close. “But only if you do the voices!”

[pavardscherie]

Could you write something about dominating Benji? Or just taking over? Like pleasing him and he's begging, whining and so? <3

cuff it, benjamin pavard

pairing benjamin pavard & female summary when she decides to swap the roles, benji finds himself quite enjoying the sudden dominance.

izzy talks; yep, the addiction is growing. like literally growing. thank you for the request! i absolutely adore the ideas, and love to write for the needy bees! <3

the thick rope rubbed on the already reddened skin around his wrists, but as much as he wanted, he could not prevent the sudden twitching of his body. stripped naked, and tied to the headboard of their king sized bed, benjamin's eyes rolled to the back of his head.

multiple waves of pleasure and bliss hit the football player, who was defenceless with his hands tied tightly. cramps started to build in the trained thighs, the constant outstretching of the limbs to focus on the passion and euphoria and stop himself from cumming pained him.

hips slammed down repeatedly, his painfully hard dick disappearing in her pussy over again. the wetness spread on his thighs and onto his balls, the squishing sounds rang deeply in his ears. benjamin didn’t know how much longer he could take the strong thrusts of his girlfriend, or the beautiful image of his woman, riding him. 

„baby..“ he whined, coaxing the words out of his dry mouth. it was painful to restrain himself, to focus on not cumming with each thrust of hers. but she wanted to take control, and who would he be, if he wouldn’t grant her the dominance. being tied up and not allowed to touch his bouncing girlfriend wasn’t really written in the idea. 

„i’m almost there.“ the words were a promise she repeated for the last ten minutes. as soon as the orgasm was about to hit the female, she slowed down the movements of her hips, eventually even stilling them to take a break. teasing manners almost made benjamin explode underneath her. „i can’t take it anymore. please, it’s hurting.“ the male whimpered, when she stopped the bouncing and moved in very edgy infinity loops. 

petite hands caressed over her thighs, towards her belly and further upwards towards her breasts. a hardened nipple between the soft fingertips, she rolled the buds to increase the pleasure for herself. benjamin couldn’t do anything else than watch how her lids closed, and she drifted into another wave of pure ecstasy. mouth hung widely open, the moans slipped off her tongue second by second. needy sounds, the desire for release but feeling as if benjamin hasn’t been punished enough for his own teasing manners. 

„babe, please. god, i wanna touch you so bad. i wanna fuck you so bad. free me, please.“ leaning the head further back, a groan laced with annoyance came deeply from his tightened chest. but she didn’t answer, she didn’t listen. 

starting to harassment with the bouncing again, she placed a flat hand on his sweat abdomen, while the other trailed towards her pussy. two slender fingers found the bundle of nerves, drawing soft circles. watching her, using him for her pleasure, was a sight benjamin usually enjoyed — if his hands would be free. tilting the head away, he closed the lids to ravel in the pleasure he received from her hasty movements. 

bathing in the echoing sound of her moans, he tore his gaze away from her jiggling tits. anything she did right now, any slightest touch would make him cum. „please let me cum.“ he trailed off, the exhaustion clearly audible in the quiet whispers. and the begging, the sweet pleads were like praise to the female. walls clenching around his dick, hugging him tightly and milking the cum painfully. 

„oh god.“ benjamin groaned, the stinging feeling in the veins of his erection worse than the beginning cramps in his thighs. eyes squeezed together, he knew the release was the only way to finally feel a moment of calmness. still bouncing on his waist, she pulled him through his orgasm, the warmth spreading through her and causing the waves of pleasure to hit her equally as hard. 

moans exploded through the room, echoing through the empty house as they used eachother to ride out the almost never-ending waves of passion and bliss. falling forward, her sweaty forehead collided with his in red marks covered chest. breathing deeply, her sensitive nipples pressed into his abdomen. „holy shit.“ she muttered with a carefree chuckle, running the soft fingertips over benjamin‘s side. 

„never again.“ the football player breathed out, fiddling the fleshy fingers over the forehead to wipe off the beads of sweat. her head snapped up from the chest, the bottom lip pushed forward in an attempt to pout at the football player.

„only if you never tie me up again.“

[gonzo-rella]

Your Hero | Izzy Hands

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): Trans!Izzy Hands x gn!reader (implied romantic)

Summary: Even after decades of living as a man, Izzy still experiences gender euphoria.

Warnings: Canon-typical, darkly comical violence (blood, stabbing and all that lovely stuff), possible playing into gender stereotypes. (Let me know if I need to add any)

Word count: 0.5k

DISCLAIMER: I’m not a transmasculine person (I’m an AFAB agender person), so apologies if this feels like an inaccurate portrayal of the transmasculine experience. Please feel free to let me know if there are any issues with this so I can learn from it!

(A/N: I adore the headcanon of trans Izzy, so much so that I wanted to write something where Izzy is explicitly trans. I’d love to explore the concept beyond this ficlet (I might even end up writing a non-reader-insert AO3 fic if the inspiration hits me). I’d like to think that in everything that I write that Izzy can be read as trans, even if it’s not made apparent in the fic. Feel free to/ pretty please request more trans Izzy stuff (or trans anyone stuff). That author’s note sure said ‘trans’ a lot.)

“Ah. Shit.”

A crewmember of the ship you were raiding smirked as he knocked the sword out of your hand. If you crouched down to retrieve it, he’d strike then. If you tried to leg it... well, he’d probably still stab you.

Unfortunately, you did the worst thing you could have possibly done in that moment: you froze. In what you believed would be your final moments, you tried to convince yourself that you’d had a good run (the key word being ‘tried’). Who were you kidding? It’d all been relatively shit until recently, and now everything was about to come to a tragic, bloody end.

Izzy watched you from afar, somehow managing to take down another enemy crewmember while only half-paying attention to what he was doing. 

You were so caught up in your anticipation of death that you didn’t notice him approaching the guy from behind. It was only when your foe collapsed to his knees, clutching his midsection, that you realised he had been skewered by Izzy’s sword. In fact, you hadn’t noticed how everything was dying down around you. It was beginning to look like you would live to see another day.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips and a grin spread across your face. You watched as Izzy extracted the blade from the man, and he finally met your gaze. He looked more concerned than usual, and you were quite surprised that he hadn’t already begun his tirade, criticising you for your ineptitude in wielding a sword. But, you weren’t in the right mind to care.

Almost skewering yourself on his sword, you leapt over the dying man and wrapped your arms around Izzy’s neck, pressing a grateful kiss to his cheek. His hands fell limp at his sides.

“Thank you so fucking much, Iz.” you whispered, barely able to speak. “You’re my hero.”

In a very Izzy fashion, he didn’t hug you back. But, he didn’t shove you off and scoff at you like you expected him to. Once again, you were too overjoyed about your survival to question it.

Little did you know, he was just as grateful for your words as you were for the swift rescue. His heart fluttered while his mind became fixed on you, on this. He supposed this malfunction was responsible for him being unable to move, standing stiffly in your arms. Izzy wasn’t one for happiness, and he was barely one for contentment, but that moment caused a familiar warmth to spread throughout his body. It was a kind of warmth that used to feel like a blaze when he was younger, when he was less used to being seen and treated as a man.

‘Your hero’. That’s how you saw him: strong, brave, capable. And, it made his heart swell with pride. Of course, he knew anyone who wasn’t a man could be all of those things; Jim was a great example of that. And, perhaps you’d be saying this to him if he were a woman. But, he didn’t care. It was the kind of declaration he had always associated with an unattainable masculinity, and this was the kind of moment he could have only dreamed of back when no one would take him seriously as a boy, let alone a man.

He swallowed thickly, doing his best to stifle the smile that was so eager to grace his lips.

“D-don’t mention it.”

[avastyetwats]

Sled Training

Continued from here. @izzyeffinhands

Stede didn't even heard Izzy's shout thanks to the wind hitting his face, his own screams, and the sound of the sled against the thick snow, so by the time Stede started to try and slow his sled down, it was too late. The Captain hit a lump of snow and was sent through the hair before he tumbled along the snow, ending up in quite the awkward position. He didn't even bother moving because he was so sore and tired, and a bit out of it, but fuck, was his face starting to freeze. And why wouldn't it? It was buried in snow and Stede was laying there letting it happen.

He hears footsteps nearing him and Stede lets out a whine hearing Izzy's comment, placing his hands flat on the snow and pushing until his head is pulled out. He looks over his shoulder at his lover, his face covered in snow and completely red beneath it thanks to how cold it was. Remaining in that position, Stede quirks a brow in bewilderment. "Familiar sight? How do you--" Then he realizes it as he's gazing back at Izzy over his shoulder, his ass up and out like the many times he's done when they've... his face deadpans. "Oh." He huffs, quickly moving into a sitting position and gathering a ball of snow into his hand before he throws it at him. "Really, Israel!? I nearly died and you make it into something filthy." Okay, maybe he exaggerated on the 'almost died' part and he wasn't actually mad at Izzy's comment, made evident in the little smile on his face and the blush... though it was hard to even tell that he was blushing since his entire face was red from the cold.

"So, how did I do? I'd personally give that a solid... seven out of ten. I survived it, so that counts for something, right?" After all, Izzy did say he'd land himself in the gravy basket and he was wrong. Because here he sat, alive and freezing, but with a smile on his face and a feeling of exhilaration. "I'll get it right on the second try." He beams, then holds both of his hands towards Izzy with an adorable - and pathetically - pleading look on his face. "Help me up?"

[zo1nkss]

Ed x Stede adopting a pet together?

Anon u just made my whole day. I'm about to use my favorite fucking trope on Ed rn. I'm winning at life.

A Whisker Away

It's not that Ed was against the idea of getting a pet. He didn't dislike animals. But there were a lot of factors that went into having a pet on a moving vescel in the middle of the ocean.

Questions like how was it going to get enough exercise for an animal? Even the smallest of beasts deserved the freedom to roam as far as it wanted. And what if it couldn't swim or didn't like water? What if it hates boats, or get s sea sick a lot? Who's going to be responsible and clean up after it when it shits on the poop deck? ["No, Stede, that's not why it's called a poop deck."]

He also wasn't a huge fan of things that constantly demanded his attention. Sure he and Izzy had managed to get along for awhile, but that was before he made his choice of alliances and respect and loyalty very clear. But Izzy was a person who could talk and tell him what he wanted. Ed was terrible at guessing games. It's why his little attempt at mimicking the high life had gone so terribly. And animals needed so many things he wasn't privvy to.

But somehow, Stede had managed to convine him. The bastard sure had a way with words(and hands, and mouths, and tongues-) and knew just what to say to get Ed to cave.

"Oh, don't be so grumpy." Stede said from across the rom, where he lounged across their shared bed entertaining the small fuzzy creature. "He's so cute. How can you be mad at a face like this?" Ed glanced over with an indignant huff and rolled his eyes. Stede was looking at him in gleeful expectation, the tiny kitten hanging from his grasp and crying out softly as it looked across the room at Ed. Could it even see him, he wondered. BUt it wasn't the cat that had his chest clenching and heart softening. Oh, he was cute alright - but Stede was so completely enamored by the small thing that Ed couldn't help but thaw a little under his gaze. "Whatever," he dismissed, turning away if only to escape the pull of those eyes.

"Oh, just give him a chance darling." Stede's voice came from beside him then, and something cold and fuzzy pressed into Ed's cheek followed by the muffled cry of the kitten. "He's so sweet, you'll really love him. I'm sure of it." A loud crash sounded from up top and Stede cursed before placing the cat in Ed's lap and running off th make sure everything was okay, a half-frantic "Watch the cat!" tossed over his shoulder as the door closed behind him.

Ed, arms lifted and nose pinched in distaste as he looked down at the small inoffensive creature, sighed as it cried pathetically up at him. "Oh, give it a rest, will ya?" he said back, knowing it wouldn't understand a word he said. "I don't hate you, okay? I just don't know what I'm doing." It cried again and he reluctantly stroked it's head with his hand. The kitten semed to like that, so he rolled his eyes and let it have the attention it wanted.

And it was fine. You know. Nothing special. normal. Boring, even. Nothing good or bad, just-

"Hey, what's that you're doing?" Was it growling, or purring? The sound got louder and louder, until he could feel it through the hand stroking the cats head. "Oh-" it rubbed against his hand and Ed felt himself softening even more than before. The damned thing really was sweet, Stede wasn't lying. "Alright, I s'pose this isn't so bad."

The cat got comfrtable in his lap and Ed knew he was doomed. Stede would never let him hear the end of it. He'd put up such a fit about getting the cat and sulked all the way back to the ship. But it's adorable face and mellow demeanor had him absolutely endeared now, and Stede was going to be so fucking smug about it.

~

"You sure everything's alright, Roach?" Stede asked, lingering near the doorway.

"Yeah, man! Everything's great, it was just the pans, and you helped clean those up." With a shrug, Roach waved him off and Stede made his way back to the captain's quarters.

"Alright, I'm sorry for leaving you alone with the cat but Roach dropped some pots while cooking everyone dinner, and-" Stede stopped in his tracks when he took in the sight before him. Ed was sprawled out on their bed, arms and legs starfished and taking up the whole thing, with the kittin curled up and sleeing in the crook of his neck. The man himself was snoring loudly, but the cat didn't seem to mind. With a triumphant smirk, Stede reached over and pet the kitten but was rudely interrupted when Ed groaned and swatted his hand away, then rolled over and covered himself and the cat in blankets.

"Don't fuckin' make my cat up, mate." He said, curling up on his side and nuzzling what Ed presumed was the sleeping cat.

"Your cat?" Stede asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Excuse me, Captain, but I spent three weeks convincing you to let me bring that cat home and I will not be undermined on my own ship-"

"-our ship-"

"-like-" Stede cut off after he heard Ed's interjection, mouth agape but eyes alight with amusement. "Oh, suddenly it's our ship."

Ed hummed in response, a prideful sound in the back of his throat. "Our ship, my cat." he declared. "Don't worry, love, you'll get the hang of it."

"Oh, I'm going to get something, I'll tell you that much!" Stede said before tackling him quite clumsily. Ed simply let out a short laugh and rolled to keep the cat away from him, but in the comotion the only managed to wake the sleeping kitten and they both halted when it let out a grumbly little meow of disapproval.

"I think we just got scolded by a kitten." Ed commented, looking over at the annoyed cat in surprise.

"I would say we most certinly did." Stede agreed, brows raised as they both stared over at the glaring creature. "What do you say, truce?"

Ed looked over at the hand offered to him and considered shaking it. But at the last second, he snatched the kitten and ran off out of the room. "Edward!" Stede called as he took off running after him.

[sempre-nico]

“ provide me your past and i'll show you my future. “

He wasn’t drunk. Nico Morrisini was too rigid for that, but the burn of the whiskey was still in his throat when Isobel appeared in his doorway in swathe of satin and white lace.

“Dio mio, you look incredible.”

“What, this old thing?” she lifted one shoulder flirtatiously and did a slow spin for his benefit. Her smooth dark curves were highlighted under the thing floral patterns and traces of her perfume wafted through the air to reach him. Nico watched her, his dick hardening in his pants at the beautiful sight before him.

“You’re a fucking vision.”

She strolled a little closer, lifting one leg slowly to straddle his knee but not quite sitting. It put her soft belly right in front of his lips but before he could lean forward to taste her sweet skin, her hands caught the sides of his face and tilted it upwards to face her.

“Tsk, tsk,” she said, eyes dancing warmly as she looked down at him. With the overhead chandelier framing her thick curls, she appeared to him like the vision of an angel. “Are you going to tell me what has you drinking here alone in the dark?”

He stared up at her, every ache of longing he’d ever felt suddenly at the forefront of his heart.

“You.”

“Me?” Her hands started to slip as she prepared to step away. Surprised or hurt, he wasn’t sure but he grabbed her wrists anyway.

“No, mia starlina, wait-“

Her hands curled into a weak fists as her chin rose. God, she was so fucking perfect. Beautiful in every way, from her gorgeous curves and stunning dark honey skin to the jungle green of her eyes that held a soul just as wild and devouring on the inside. She made him laugh and moan and ache and she haunted every one of his waking moments.

She was driving him insane and he adored her for it.

“Is this one of those moments where it’s lost in translation, Nicky?”

He licked his lips, still tasting whiskey and wishing he didn’t. “I… Izzy. I need you.”

Her gaze softened instantly and she moved closer once again. Her cool fingers brushed over his brow, her touch light and soothing. “You have me.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I need more of you. I need your past. I need to know it all. I need to know it, so I can give you my future. Izzy,” he drew her slowly into his lap and tucked her against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and let himself float in the sea of sheer emotion he held for her in a way he’d never let himself feel before. “I want to understand. Will you tell me, cara? Will you tell me about your past?”

[isrighthand]

𝐄𝐃𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 wants a kiss!

18. Romantic kiss

He's entirely uncertain of so many things. Who Edward is anymore, who he's supposed to be, where they're going, what they're doing. Fucking all of it. It's been a long fucking road to here, standing in the halls of Bonnet's ship, wondering if Ed is back to normal. If he's okay.

They're at the end of a conversation where then tension feels like it might as well choke them, the swoop in the stomach before the unexpected fall.

" I'm - "   - sorry, Izzy almost says to break the silence. I'm sorry. He's fucked up so much.

But he doesn't finish the sentence, because there's a mouth pressed to his. Slightly chapped lips against his own, Edward's mouth pressing to his. It's not gentle, but there's nothing harsh to it - there's a quiet need, a desire that Izzy can feel, like Edward is trying to say something too, something without words.

Without a thought, Izzy parts his lips and tilts his head, leaning into it, returning the kiss. His hands come up to either side of Ed's throat, sliding to cup Ed's face in his hands. His back is against a wall and his lungs crave air. It's perfect.

He's breathless when they part, looking up at his captain with any mask gone from his face, his gaze expressive - confused, adoring, concerned, a million things all at once.

" Ed? "

@blackflcgs​

[nelapanela94]

tw: mild language, Y/N giving birth.

Papa Levi holding his baby for the first time.

Isabel Ackerman was born on a sweltering summer day.

“Imma fucking kill you, Levi!!!” Your ear-splitting shrieks take captive the maternity ward, the nurse is trying to calm you down and Levi’s on the brink of losing his hair. His scalp burns with your menacing pull. “You fucking did this to me!!”

Your hair is tied in a messy bun and some strands curl over your ears, others are glued to your burnished forehead. All your face is glistening with sweat. The insufferable pain wrenches tears through your clamped eyes, squeezed so tight your eyeballs threaten to explode. Scrunched up face, clenched jaw, gritting teeth.

Inhaling, exhaling.

Your breath comes in and out of your mouth in rushing gusts of air as if to appease the pain.

But it doesn't work.

Wailing, screeching, whining. Your tears blend with the beads of sweat that stream down your face.

Someone says, “push.”  

And Levi rasps, “You’re doing great.”

The motherfucker only contributed in the fun part of this.

And then the room falls in utter silence, seconds lengthen to minutes. The air is dense. White walls, cozy lights. And the deafening silence breaks with baby triumph cries. Her lungs work fine. Finally, the torture ceases. Elation and exhaustion swarm you; you're emotionally and physically drained. And Levi’s holding your hand tight as if to melt with yours.

“I’m proud of you,” he coos and kisses your head. “You did great.”

Everything is blurry. Through bleary leaden-eyes, you see the nurse approaching, her silhouette becomes larger. “Congratulations.” She smiles. “It’s a beautiful, healthy girl.”

Isabel is swaddled in a blanket, and the nurse lays her in your arms. Your tiny cocoon.

Jolts of joy fizz through you.

“Oh walls! Oh walls! Oh walls!” Tears of sheer happines well up in your eyes and you’re trembling. Levi drags his chair closer to you.

“I’ll be outside if you need me,” the young woman says, getting your attention. You both nod, and she leaves. The door thumps close, and your red, swollen eyes drift to Levi, whose lips are parted and fumbling, and his gaze glints with a weave of fright, pride, joy, and bewilderment. He sniffs and wipes off his seeping tears with the sleeve of his shirt.

You still don't get used to see him crying.

“Look at her, Levi. Look at her!” you jabber, your eyes scoot back to your tiny bundle of joy. You tug down the blanket under her chin to get a better look. Her chubby cheeks are tinged with a pinkish glow, and her scanty black hair screams Levi.

It seems Ackerman genes are dominant.

“She’s so beautiful and small and…” He muses in utter awe; words clog in his throat. Splurges of love and tenderness spread across his chest. Love at first sight. His eyes droop, and a small smile creeps across his lips.

You carefully count her fingers and toes; her hands are curled in tiny fists. She yawns and you both let out a giggle, enraptured, as if it were the most amusing thing in the world.

Your eyes entangle with Levi’s, his lashes are glittering with tears.

“Wanna hold her?”

His eyes go round, and he gulps. You can see the fear in his eyes. The man who faced any threat without hesitation is scared to hold his baby in his arms.

He’s scared to break her, to hurt her. Everything he touches withers.

He shakes his head to toss away those nagging thoughts, then his ebony strands of hair slither trough his fingers as he lets out a deep sigh.

Levi mimics the position of your arms, like a cradle, and you pass Isabel off to him. He freezes and holds his breath, afraid that any flimsy move would break her.

And right then, as soon as he takes her in his arms, she weaves a nest in his heart, his eyes gleaming, his heart is all hers, unconditionally, and he'll never ask her for it back.

He looks at her with so adoration and tenderness, mesmerized in her steady breathing. Her lashes are long, like yours.

“Hey, Izzy,” you murmur. “He’s your daddy. He’s grumpy and high-strung, and most of the time, he’s scowling,” he frowns at you “but he’s a good guy. He loves you so much and will always protect you.”

Levi relaxes a bit, and his eye draws her tubby face. He can’t believe his blood runs through her veins. Something so cute, fragile, and beautiful came from him.

He doesn’t want to let go, he could stare at her forever.

His little summer girl.

Do you know how difficult it is to find a love so pure and innocent?

And he found it.

Dadvi 2022 masterlist

[blissful-bard333]

Hello!!

I really like the steddyhands ship and i absolutely adore morning scenes. Could i trouble you for a soft grumbly morning cuddle and some breakfast. (Extra points is they all bicker while making the breakfast)

Thank you!

PROMPT: Steddyhands soft grumbly morning cuddles and breakfast

TOS: Fluff & Lemon

LENGTH: Medium - 790 words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The slowly rising sun was appearing out of the ocean's veil. Its rays were slyly crawling up Izzy's body, which was kept close between the sheets and the captains. They eventually reached his sleepy face and of course, he started to rub his tired eyes. A few blinks made him realize his placement in the bed. He still gets flustered, no matter how many times they've done this. He looked to find his clothes draped on top of the couch. He then slowly started to peel the blankets off of him, legs carefully slipping out. But once he started to lean away, Ed instantly took a hold of his wrist, eyes still closed.

"Iz," Ed said muddled in the pillow. "It can wait..."

"Oh really? My duty can wait?" Izzy questioned with sarcasm tainted in his tone.

"Yes. Now lay back down. Please...?" He used his deer-like eyes to try to win him over.

Izzy exhaled faintly, taken aback by his glorious mocha eyes, yet his trance ended fast.

"Fuck this, I'm going." He mumbled.

He moved his legs over Stede's blanketed body. Ed sighed.

"Stede." He blankly said.

Suddenly, Izzy's torso was gripped tight, making the top half of his body hang off the bed. He was amazed by Stede's hidden strength but he would never say that to his face, ever.

"Got him, dear." Stede said groggily, his purple mask still covering his eyes.

Ed uncovered his chocolate brown eyes and kissed him tenderly. They gazed for a while until Stede whispered:

"I'll go grab breakfast, ok?"

"Of course, hun. Since you're the only one decently clothed." Ed whispered back.

This made Stede giggle through his nose. "Let's switch places, alright?"

Stede then let go of Izzy's waist only to be replaced with Ed's tan tattooed hands and arms. He hugged him tightly which made Izzy sit up against Ed's warm chest and stomach so he could be more comfortable since he could tell he was going to be stuck there for a while and there was no way of getting out now.

"I'll be back soon, my loves!" Stede said, putting on his yellow robe over his translucent white nightgown.

Ed gave him a homey grin while Izzy just gave him a glare and grumble.

"Why are you such a grumpster in the morning, Iz?" Ed asked once Stede was gone, resting his chin on Izzy's exposed shoulder.

He didn't respond.

"Oh, you're giving me the silent treatment, then? Ok, I see how it is. Well..." He then slowly slid his hand against Izzy's bare chest and neck, then jerked his chin to face him, grazing his thumb on his bottom lip.

"At least this doesn't require talking." They fiercely started kissing, tongue and all.

Izzy ran his fingers through Ed's snowy ebony hair, cautiously placing his head on the back of his neck. But he squeezed Ed's plush thigh harshly, in need of support. After a while, they both needed a breather from the passionate battle. Izzy was breathing heavily while Ed was delicately gasping for air. Both looked into each other's eyes with arousal, filled to the brim.

"Ah, you've shut him up." Stede said, walking in with a tray in his hands.

Straight away, their arousal drained out, being replaced with the clouds of admiration for Stede's rays of kindness.

"Yep, nothing that a kiss won't fix." Ed responded.

He started to get up, feet wandering to the table to look upon the delightful breakfast Stede was placing in their spots.

"There we go!" Stede said, presenting his neat arrangement of the plates.

This made Stede smile and laugh from adoration. He quickly gave Stede a kiss, his hands cupping his doll face. He naturally wrapped his arms around Ed's waist, his red robe rubbing his arms sensually and graciously, wanting the kiss to last longer.

"I love you, you know that?" Ed whispered to Stede.

"Of course, my darling! But do you know... that I love you more?" He whispered back.

They both giggled softly. "Well, breakfast is served!"

*********************************************************************

They all finished their food and tea, conversating through it all. It wasn't until Izzy had to break off.

"Well, I'd better head off, for real this time." Izzy said, tightening his tie.

"Not before we give you our farewell kisses!" Stede said eagerly.

"Oh fuck off." Just as he started to walk away, his wrist was gripped and pulled back, Stede's hand latching onto his waist.

"I said... not before." His tone started stern but ended cheerfully.

"O-ok then, yeh." Izzy said softly, enticed by Stede's hidden dominance.

They then gave Izzy's cheeks a peck of love.

"Right then, have a wonderful day, Iz!" said Stede.

"See you later then, mate." Ed said chillfully.

Izzy was entranced for a bit but quickly headed off to his job.

*********************************************************************

Once he arrived on deck, the crew was busy and flirty, as usual. But it wasn't until Lucius slowly crept up next to him and questioned quietly, in a sultry tone:

"Sore?"

To which Izzy responded with a coarse, "Fuck off."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, I did my best.

Hope you like it!!

[run-me-through-but-not-like-that]

I adore your fics! It always makes my day when you update!

If you’re up for more requests, maybe the inverse of the one you posted about Izzy getting hurt to protect reader and have reader get hurt saving Izzy?

The drama!

Poor guy would probably internally blue screen. He’s so used to being the one who gets hurt and it just doesn’t make sense to him for you to do that for him

What's it Matter Who a Bullet is Intended For?

The raid roared around you, the enemy crew putting up a good fight but slowly losing. You looked around the deck with a small smile, the crew was fighting well, they had come a long way as had you.

You couldn't help but let your gaze linger on your first mate, Izzy. He had fully earnt your respect after you experienced your first raid with him. The rumours about his swordsmanship weren't exaggerated, he was truly something to behold when he was in his element.

Hair falling over his forehead, his stance loose but purposeful, his sword in hand as he cut through the other crew like they were nothing.

You managed to tear your gaze away from the man for long enough to re-centre yourself, remembering the threats that surrounded you. You faint smile dropped instantly when you caught sight of one of the opposing crew members, gun firmly in hand and pointed at Izzy. Izzy, who was not looking in his direction.

You moved more on instinct than anything, not having the time or luxury to think.

"What the fuck?!" Izzy growled, definitely didn't shriek, when something collided with his body, sending him down to the deck.

His shout couldn't barely be heard over the fighting going on around him, but it was instantly followed by a gunshot that rang out above it all.

Quickly coming to his senses, Izzy took in his surroundings. You stood where he had been only seconds ago, clutching your bleeding shoulder and stumbling back into the railing behind you. He looked across the deck, seeing a member of the other crew with a gun in his hand.

Even in the sudden state of confusion, Izzy could put together the chain of events.

Did you...?

Izzy blinked, bringing himself back to the ongoing raid.

With no time to think, Izzy was back on his feet. The man with the gun was left bleeding out on the deck, Izzy's bloodied sword sheathed back on his hip before he was even at your side.

"What the fuck where you thinking?" Izzy chastised as he lifted your uninjured arm and wrapped it around his shoulders, lifting you up from the deck where you had slumped against the ship railing.

"You didn't see..." you grunted, leaning into his side as he wrapped an arm around your waist, supporting your weight.

Izzy assisted you across the deck like that until he found another member of your crew.

"Mr Feeney!" Izzy called, getting the larger man's attention. "They've been shot. Take them back to the Revenge, get Roach to sort them out," he ordered.

Wee John nodded, quickly taking you from Izzy's arms. "You're alright," he assured you quietly, assuring you that he had you.

"Thanks," you managed to speak through gritted teeth, letting him haul you back to your ship. It was like you could feel the bullet embedded in your shoulder, shifting with every tiny movement you made.

Izzy found himself wanting to go with you as he watched John take you away, you had taken a bullet meant for him, after all. It only felt right to go with you. However, he was the first mate, he had to stay and make sure that the rest of the raid went smoothly. That was his duty.

Mr Feeney would manage getting you back to the Revenge, Roach was a surprisingly good surgeon, and you were still conscious when left the ship so you mustn't have lost too much blood yet.

All he could do for now was focus on the rest of the raid.

Eventually the rest of the raided crew surrendered and any valuables were able to be looted and taken back to their ship. The crew of the Revenge soon returned to their ship and raised anchor while the loot was taken down to the hold and taken stock of.

Once Izzy had given his orders, ensure everything was going smoothly, and reported to the captains, he headed for the infirmary.

There you were, laying on the infirmary cot with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder and chest. He approached the side of your cot and you apparently became aware of his presence, lazily turning your head towards him and smiling slightly.

"How are you feeling?" Izzy asked.

"Sleepy," you murmured, your eyes dazed as you watched him.

Izzy frowned but Roach entered the room before he could question you. He questioned the surgeon instead. "What the fuck is wrong with them?"

"Gave them some medication for the pain, digging a bullet out is a bitch. They'll be drowsy for a few hours, probably just sleep it off," Roach explained with a small shrug, clearly the medication was nothing to worry about.

"How bad was the damage?" Izzy asked.

"They didn't lose too much blood, you must have caught them right after they we're shot," Roach told him, "they aren't going to be able to use that arm for a while, I've got them a sling for when they start moving around again."

"Izzy," you hummed.

Izzy glanced down at you, seeing that you were still looking up at him with glassy eyes, but you didn't say anything else. You must have been pretty out of it.

He turned his attention back to Roach. "Any lasting damage?"

"Nothing too serious, their arm should still be fully functional. Might be some nerve damage but it's too soon to tell. They'll at least have some lasting pain. Y'know, like my shoulder, like Captain Edward's knee," Roach explained, Izzy just nodded his understanding. "Somebody should sit with them until the medication wears off. I'll do it if I'm not needed anywhere else," he advised.

Izzy flinched a little when he felt something brushed against his hand. He looked down to see you taking his hand in yours, your grip weak.

"...I'll sit with them, you go and make sure nobody else needs seeing too," Izzy offered. Not seeing a reason to argue, Roach nodded and took his leave.

You released Izzy's hand, your own falling limply, and he wasn't sure if you had fallen asleep or not. With a sigh, he grabbed a chair and pulled it up beside your cot.

"What the fuck did you do all this for?" Izzy asked, though he didn't really expect an answer.

You murmured something unintelligible before you head fully lolled to the side, eyes closed. You had definitely fallen asleep now.

Carefully, Izzy took your hand that hung off the side of the cot and placed it on top of your stomach.

As you slept, Izzy dutifully sat by your beside, just trying to understand. Why on earth would you take a bullet for him? For him of all people. He just couldn't make sense of it.

It had certainly been no accident, you had pushed him out of the way and put yourself in the line of danger. Purposely pushed him to safety, purposely took his place instead.

Now you lay here, on the infirmary bed, bandages lightly stained with your blood despite the stitches. It should have been him.

A couple of hours passed before you woke up, Izzy still sitting at his station. He wasn't about to leave you for a moment and miss something going wrong meaning that he wouldn't get Roach quickly enough. He wouldn't let your condition get worse with himself to blame, once again.

You groaned as consciousness began to return to you, your face scrunching up in discomfort. You shifted before you even opened your eyes.

"Ow, fuck," you cursed the pain shooting through your shoulder.

"Don't move about too much, you'll pop the stitches," Izzy warned quietly.

As you became more aware of your surroundings and how you ended up there, you blinked the bleariness away and let your gaze settle properly on the first mate.

"Throat hurts," you told him, your voice hoarse and scratchy.

"Got some water here for you, gonna have to sit up," Izzy told you as he stood from his seat, frowning when you tried to push yourself up. "Here, let me help," he placed a hand on your uninjured shoulder to halt you before putting an arm around your back and helping you sit up.

He positioned your pillow behind your back before crossing the room, to a table with a pitcher of water and some cups. "For your wounded shoulder, just keep your arm in your lap for now, Roach has a sling for you," Izzy advised as he poured you a cup of water.

You just nodded as he returned to your bedside, handing you the cup. You greedily gulped down the water, it managing to soothe your throat at least a little bit.

"Thanks," you sighed as he took the cup from you again, placing it down.

"How are you feeling?" Izzy asked.

"Like I've been shot," you attempted to laugh but instantly hissed at the pain of your shoulder jolting. Izzy just nodded, like he was contemplating something, not showing any hint of humour for your joke. "How long was I out?" you asked.

"Just a couple of hours. The rest of the raid went smoothly, we brought in a decent haul and nobody else was too badly injured. We're sailing again," Izzy reported, a little too official sounding.

"Good," you nodded faintly, unsure of how else to respond, you really couldn't get a read on what he was feeling.

A short silence followed.

"That bullet was meant for me," Izzy's sudden declaration made you blink, unsure if you had heard him correctly.

"Sorry, what?" you asked, feeling the breath being knocked out of your lungs when you looked at him. He looked pained about something. Guilty.

"You shouldn't have been shot, he was aiming at me," Izzy repeated. You had definitely heard him right.

"Yeah, but you didn't see it, it could have killed you," you told him with a frown.

"It could have killed you," he stated, as if that weren't obvious. You had been shot, if the man's aim had been only slightly different, you could be dead already.

"Yeah...I mean, it wasn't like I wanted to get shot. Just thought I had a better chance of avoiding it since I saw it. I got shot but it wasn't fatal, would have been different for you," you explained your reasoning.

Izzy knew you were right, would have done the same thing for somebody he gave a damn about. Gave a damn about...he'd dwell on that thought later. Still, he felt the need to argue. "I've been shot before, I could have handled it."

"Well, now you don't have too," you quickly aborted a shrug. Izzy didn't seem satisfied with your answer, still looking at you like you had done something completely insane. "Is it really so difficult to believe that maybe I just didn't want you to get hurt? That I didn't want you to risk getting shot fatally, that I didn't want to see you fighting for your life if he got a decent shot? That I didn't want you to die?" you asked softly.

Izzy took a moment to process your questions, to try to understand the soft way you were looking at him. Finally, he settled on something that he had only ever said to one other person. "I owe you my life. My flesh, my blood, are your own."

Your eyes widened slightly, feeling your heart ache. "Izzy, no...no, I don't...that's not what I want," you reached out, taking hold of his hand, a little surprised that he let you. "You don't owe me anything, not a single goddamn thing, understand?"

"...no," Izzy confessed. He didn't understand but he still believed you, it was difficult not to when you were looking at him like that.

"It was my choice, I didn't do it so that you owed me, you being alive is enough. That's all I wanted," you promised, giving his hand a small squeeze, as if it might make him understand.

Izzy nodded stiffly. "I'll go get Roach, tell him you're awake. He'll want to check on you," he stood, pulling his hand out of yours.

"Izzy?" you asked carefully, wondering if you had said something wrong.

"You can't sleep in the bunks with your arm like that, you can stay in my cabin until you've healed up. It will be comfier than the infirmary cot," Izzy offered, already heading towards the door. Is it an offer if he doesn't give you a choice?

"Izzy, you don't-"

At the sound of your protest, Izzy turned back to you, hand on the door handle. "Not because I owe you, just as a thank you," he assured you.

"I...alright, Iz," you agreed, not feeling like you would get any better than that. You weren't looking for thanks but at least he might not feel like he owed you.

Izzy nodded once before leaving. You sighed, finally allowing yourself to wince at the pain of your wound.

Roach came by only a few minutes later, checking over your shoulder and fitting you for a sling. He advised that you remain in the infirmary until the loot was fully sorted and things calmed down, then you could head to Izzy's cabin.

"Weird that...y'know, that Izzy is letting you use his cabin," Roach commented once he had the sling in place and you sitting on the edge of the cot.

"Said I shouldn't sleep in the bunks with my arm like this," you explained, even though you were well aware that Izzy was the least likely person on the ship to offer up their sleeping quarters for somebody's recovery.

"I'm taking your hammock until you get back," he told you, he certainly wasn't asking.

"Sure thing. I'm going to enjoy sleeping on a cot for the first time in who knows how long," you chuckled.

Your smile remained as you looked towards the opening door, possibly even grew when Izzy stepped into the infirmary.

"C'mon, got the cabin sorted for you," Izzy told you, nodding towards the door.

You looked back at Roach questioningly, since he had literally just told you to wait for now. The surgeon sighed. "Just don't be fucking stupid and knock your arm against anything, alright? I'll check on the stitches tomorrow. Any sign of infection and you come get me, yeah?"

"Yes, Doc," you saluted playfully. Roach just rolled his eyes at you as he helped you stand from the cot.

You legs were a little wobbly but you put that down to the medication Roach had given you earlier. Before you fell asleep, you had felt like you were floating.

Seemingly noticing that you were a little unsteady on your feet, Izzy took hold of your good arm and guided you out of the infirmary. You didn't pass anyone on the way down to his cabin, though you could hear the crew moving around the ship.

"Where are you going to sleep?" you asked as you stepped into the cabin, looking around subtly. You had never been in the first mate's cabin before, not since it became his cabin anyway.

He was certainly a minimalist, unlike Stede. A cot with a pillow and blanket, a desk and chair, a chest of his belongings. Though, not much else would really fit into the room without making it feel claustrophobic.

"Probably in the bunks. Should only be a for a week or two," Izzy shrugged, hoping that he could mask his dread. It wasn't like the crew and him were the biggest fans of each other even if they had come to a somewhat civil balance.

"Roach is taking my hammock, so you're not getting that," you warned him, smiling fondly as he muttered inaudibly under his breath. "You can grab some bedding from the bunks and set up something in here. I assume I won't be able to talk you into taking the cot, but you'll probably be more comfortable on the floor in here than among the crew," you suggested.

Izzy seemed to think it over for a moment, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Fuck, yeah, guess that will work," he nodded.

"Thanks for this, Iz. There's no way I could get in and out a hammock with my shoulder like this...but I would survive on the floor," you attempted to offer, already knowing you would be shot down.

"Not a chance," Izzy answered firmly. He could be a gentleman, in his own way, you found it endearing.

"Yes, sir," you chuckled fondly.

That night you lay on the cot with Izzy's blanket pulled over yourself, Izzy lay in his makeshift bed on the floor beside the cot. The cabin wasn't very spacious, leaving him close to your bedside, though...perhaps he lay a little closer than necessary.

"Why did you do it?" Izzy's question broke the silence, his voice startlingly soft. You could just picture him, even in the dark, staring up at the ceiling with his brow furrowed like he was trying to solve some grand puzzle.

"I told you," you whispered back.

"Explain it again," it was an order, or it should have been, but it was so gentle to have any real authority behind it.

Now you were staring up at the ceiling, mimicking the image of Izzy that you had conjured up. "...at the time, I didn't really think about it. I saw the danger and I acted. I barely even remember how I crossed the deck. I mostly just remember feeling...fuck, Iz, I was so afraid. Not of the gun or the bullet but of you getting shot, of you dying."

Izzy was silent, hanging on to every word, slotting each puzzle piece into place. You had been afraid of what exactly? Of losing him? He only just realised that tears were welling in his eyes, why, he wasn't completely sure. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, not trusting his own voice to make any real response.

"...Iz?" you carefully called out into the dark room.

"Yeah?" he called back, just as quiet.

"Just wanted to check you were still there..." you confessed, hesitating for a moment before hanging your good arm off the side of the cot.

You smiled into the darkness as you felt Izzy's hand cautiously clasping yours, not holding properly until you tightened your grip. And tighten your grip, you did. You held onto him like he was a lifeline as you fell asleep.

It wasn't particularly comfortable for either of you but he was there. He was alive.

[knowlesian]

from a post finale haze i bring you: deeply disorganized thoughts about jim/olu, more or less centered around e7 but we all saw that finale. you all understand why i got three and a half hours of sleep. complaints about any interpretive jazz-esque sentence structure can be tied to the leg of a magical seagull and sent direct to david jenkins himself as he is to blame.

- why not start at the obvious thing right off the top: they nearly kissed, team. WE ALMOST HAD IT. olu leaned in. jim leaned back. the space between their beautiful wonderful faces was ALMOST. GONE.

it’s such a great mutual approach, too. jim’s smirk morphs into staring and then olu moves closer and jim moves closer still and they are SO IN SYNC. they have only been a team for a year and olu just found out jim’s favorite color like an hour ago, but they are a goddamned perfectly functioning unit.

- which makes me go back to the scene where olu gets to hang out in the house and nana says she likes olu and asks if he’s jim’s husband. there’s such a great rapport between the two of them right there! after jim notably doesn’t say no (and neither does olu! he just looks pleased) and they have this soft eye exchange of ‘seriously???’/’what, i’m just having fun!’ jim sort of... softens as nana goes to look outside at jim’s found idiot family they dragged back home with them and i think a lot of it is because jim did find a home with these big ol’ dopes and they’re fond of the whole lot of them.

but the rest i would argue has a lot to do with how well olu fits into this side of jim’s life, too. the crew is outside, walls still between them and jim: olu is in the house. they didn’t want to go home and face the proverbial music, sure, but i think there’s a piece there where jim was afraid bringing olu to see nana would break the spell, and instead olu is happily getting along with everybody’s favorite murdernun and sitting at the table easy as you please and that opens the avenue that this thing with olu could be for real and for keeps.

- which makes me wonder: is this a story where jim’s favorite color is teal because olu’s earring is teal, or is this a story where the day they met jim met a beautiful man with kind eyes who already wore their favorite color? (or is this a story where jim met a man with a different earring and they bought that one for olu because they wanted to see him in their favorite color goddamnit now i’m having feelings at the mere potential.)

- extra shoutout to the way olu calls out “JIM. YOU DID NOT DO ENOUGH MURDER, MY SOUL BLEEDS WITH DISAPPOINTMENT IN YOU” was a damaging interaction for jim. we love a ride or die bitch, especially when they have kind eyes and hilarious line delivery.

- which brings me to: “if you wanted... i could be family”. pain. sheer beautiful pain. not erasing what came before, but adding to; nana is Part of You, but i could be yours as well. it’s so, so sweet and supportive and then the way jim RESPONDS. the acting on this show, i’m mad about it and i’m gonna die mad about it. jim’s gaze flicks away but then we are BACK, THERE IS A SLIGHT GRIN. A LEGIT GRIN. and then that glorious mutual approach i already yelled about.

- and because i didn’t mention it above, the little “holy shit, we almost kissed! wow, huh?” look they share after stede rolls up to ruin the moment. SO CUTE.

- which brings me to the goodbye, where olu doesn’t try to talk jim out of it just supports their choices and makes it clear olu remains a safe place to land, no matter what. he gives them this little adorable almost hug and then: the hat slap.

i am obsessed with this little motion. it’s fucking adorable, first off, but it’s also possibly the physical manifestation of why this ship has burrowed into my heart and made its home there.

like: we know jim trusts olu. they allowed olu to watch their back and even speak for them before they found their own voice as jim. i know there’s an in-world reason for that, but the METAPHOR. i wanna eat it like izzy ate his own toe. when jim couldn’t raise their voice, they trusted olu to have the right words.

add to that olu knows jim is scary! he just got finished telling nana he watched the revenge murder go down and honest, it was super vengeful. no notes, shocked faces all around. (sidenote: i want to know how that all happened. did olu know shit was gonna go down or just help jim get out of dodge after? probably that last one, but inquiring minds!)  

the point is that olu knows who jim is in their entirety, from the revenge thriller canon they were born into and the muppet hijinks they have now embraced. and olu still slaps the brim of jim’s hat because just like he’s a safe space for jim, they’re a safe place for olu.

- i can’t wait for olu’s backstory. i will ASCEND. i need it. jim clearly fills a hole in his heart and i want to know e v e r y t h i n g. i need to see how they met. EVERYTHING.

- and finally, because it doesn’t fit anywhere else but i want to add it: if i’m going with the grand unifying theory of jim following The Call to Muppet while izzy does not that makes the way they handle lucius in e3 extra hilarious. that is a muppet-ass plan if i have ever seen one!!!! and in a muppet movie somebody could survive being chucked over the side in a box/footlocker/whatever that was by simply floating to the nearest island, i’m js. (yes i’m a lucius lives truther, now and forever. IN A MUPPET MOVIE, YOU LIVE. THE END.)

[thetragicallynerdy]

Last flash fiction prompt for the evening! @jesperr-fahey requested something with Frenchie and Jim being pals. I absolutely adore the two of them, so thank you so much for this prompt!! This was also inspired by @strawberrypirates ‘ art of Jim and Frenchie being sneaky, which is my absolute favourite and has lived in my brain rent free since I saw it, you should all go look at it here.

Tw for alcohol and a tiny bit of angst.

--

“This is a terrible plan,” Jim breathed, hiding behind a crate and scanning the dark deck. “We’re so going to get caught.”

“It’s a great plan,” Frenchie whispered, crouching right behind them. “And what’s the worst that they’ll do if they catch us?”

“Flog us,” Jim muttered. “Keelhaul us. Izzy’s been threatening to hang someone up by their toes –“

“Right. Which is exactly why we need to do this in the first place. We need a break, or the next time Jizzy Izzy threatens someone you’ll try stabbing him. Again.”

Jim exhaled. He wasn’t wrong. They were wound tight, and they needed a break. And really – it wasn’t the worst plan. And it was already half done, wasn’t it? They’d already snuck into the hold and stolen a bottle of rum, which was tucked deep in one of Frenchie’s pockets. Now they just had to make their way up to the crow’s nest, and they’d be golden.

“Dios. Fine. C’mon.”

They slipped across the deck, ducking behind the mast just as Ivan started to turn their way. Reached behind them, tangled their hand in Frenchie’s coat, and dragged him along with them. He pressed in beside them, freezing, listening for any sound that Ivan had seen them –

Nothing. Total quiet.

Good. Jim breathed. They let go of Frenchie’s coat, then slowly poked their head out around the mast, squinting to see where Ivan was in the darkness. A hand landed on their shoulder, Frenchie leaning over them to do the same.

“Tall bastard,” Jim muttered under their breath.

“Don’t be jealous, babe,” Frenchie whispered back, grin audible in his voice, “someday you’ll grow tall too –“

Jim elbowed him in the side. The wheeze he tried to smother was totally worth the risk.

Across the deck, Ivan turned his back on them, and started walking away. They tracked him across the deck, into the corridor leading to the captain’s quarters –

“¡Ve! Ve! Ve!” Jim whispered, waving their hand in the universal motion for ‘go’. “He’s gone, go –“

Frenchie slipped around them, stealthily running for the nearest rigging. Jim was right behind, holding it steady as he started to climb, then scampering up after him. They were both good at this, light and quick and so very fast. There was no wind tonight, and it was easy, clambering up and up and up until they could haul themself into the crow’s nest, collapse beside Frenchie and try and hold in their laughter.

It felt good, sneaking, hiding, getting away with shit. Fuck, this was fun.

Frenchie’s grin was bright in the moonlight, feet stretching across the crow’s nest to press against the wooden boards at Jim’s side. Jim did the same, pressing their spine into the wood behind them, letting themself stretch and slouch into something that felt so safe and secure that they never wanted to leave. They were so high above the ship, so high above the world, just the stars and the moon and their friend to keep them company. No one could find them up here, no one could curse them out or remind them of their missing friends or how much they had failed them –

Frenchie nudged their ribs with one foot. Jim’s gaze snapped to him, only then realizing the way their breathing was quickening, the way their hands clenched into fists. They exhaled. Forced their hands to unclench. Took the bottle when he held it out.

The rum burned going down, a cleansing fire, centering them back to this moment. To the wind, the stars, and Frenchie.This had been fun. This was fun. They could let it be fun, couldn’t they?

“Cheers, m’dear,” he said with a soft smile, toasting them once the bottle was back in his hand. “May we have better days and better nights.”

They breathed in the salt of the air, let the calm lapping of the waves far below wash over them. This was good. This moment, right here, was good. And wasn’t that enough for now?

“Sí,” they whispered back, letting the wings of their shoulder blades dig into the wood behind them, pressing into Frenchie’s foot at their side. “Better days.”

[bi-naesala]

This is only their second go at a vacation - the one being that disastrous first attempt captain Bonnet forced them into, when they were still entertaining the idea of killing him at the first chance - but this is already going way better.

First of all, they know what to do now, which is already a great advantage: Wee John is blowing stuff up with Roach - though they promised Captain not to go too overboard with it - while Frenchie’s idly playing a song that Pete has never heard before, and he’s soon joined by the Swede, who begins singing some lyrics that everyone’s pretty sure he’s just came up with, and then Buttons, who’s having a lovely chat with Olivia - that what she was called, right? She’s the first seagull’s wife or something. Even Fang and Ivan have joined them, though they seem to just be chilling in the sun with no intention of moving a muscle - they said that before Bonnet came back to Blackbeard, they rarely had any free time. The only people unaccounted for are Captain and Blackbeard, who must’ve sneaked somewhere to fuck or something - that’s a tactic Pete and Lucius know pretty well - Oluwande and Jim who have probably done the same, and that fucker Izzy, who’s still rotting in the closet they’re keeping him in until they decide what they actually want to do with him.

At first, Pete decides to hang with John and Roach, because who doesn’t love seeing stuff blowing up? But then, when everyone suggests having a dip into the sea to have a chicken fight, which is a fight between four people, only that two of them stay on the others’ shoulders and have to push each other off - Blackbeard taught them that, though he wasn’t able to explain what chickens have to do with this whole thing - he refuses, deciding to go back under the palm trees for some shade.

 Everything’s perfect, or well, should be perfect, if only…

“Hey, love,” Pete says once he’s close enough to Lucius, who’s sitting under one of the trees and who, as soon as he hears his voice, smiles, turning his head towards him.

“Hi baby,” he greets him, scooting a bit to the side so that Pete can join him. “Had fun blowing stuff up?”

Pete is so proud of him: before, even just mentioning any kind of violence would’ve made him pass out, but now he’s gotten so used to it that he can ask him if he had fun blowing things up, and carry a whole conversation on that topic. That’s great, he’s great. Pete loves him a big deal.

“You know, the usual…” he shrugs then, because as much as likes to talk about shenanigans - or really, anything with Lucius to be honest - this isn’t why he’s there.

His gaze moves from him to the crew having fun at sea. “Do you want to join them? We were going to do a chicken fight.”

Panic flashes in Lucius’ eyes, but it last only a moment before he shakes his head - still, it doesn’t go unnoticed by Pete. “No… No, don’t worry about me. You can go join them if you want, I’m fine here.”

 This is weird, and adding this to Lucius’ behavior as of late makes everything even weirder: Pete has noticed how, when they’re all on the ship, he tends to avoid exposing himself near the railings, or any other places where he could fall outside, or that the only times he seems to get in contact with water are when he needs to wash himself.

They’ve had plenty of occasions to have fun just like they’re doing today, when they could’ve gone for a swim, or even just have one of those splashing wars that Pete adores, but Lucius has always refused to join them, not to consider the fact that once, when he decided to try it, but still remaining as close to the shore as possible - a decent compromise - he still looked like he was going to pass out at any moment, and when Roach jokingly splashed at him he panicked, beginning to scream for help and that he was drowning, which prompted them to take him to solid ground in the hopes that he wouldn’t feel like that anymore. He calmed down only once they gave him a dry change of clothes.

 He never acted like this before, which is why Pete was having a hard time trying to figure out what he should do about this at first, how he could help Lucius overcome this.

Why would he even be so wary of water now, in the first place? They’re pirates! This isn’t exactly a great conundrum.

  For a while he’s been left wondering, only for Lucius to reveal the truth to him after a particularly bad nightmare, while Pete was holding him into a tight embrace.

“Ed-- Blackbeard threw me off the ship,” he cowered, so close from crying that it broke Pete’s heart. “It was so cold, and I couldn’t… Couldn’t… There was so much water. I-I couldn’t breathe… I… F-For a moment…”

He broke down, in the end, and Pete tried his best to soothe him, assuring him that everything was alright, that he was safe, that Pete wasn’t going to let something like that happen ever again, even at the cost of him own life.

Eventually, Lucius had managed to calm down and fall back asleep, but the same couldn’t be said for Pete, who was too busy trying to make order inside his head; on one hand, he knew that Lucius must’ve been banished somehow, or else they wouldn’t have found him stranded on an island when they were looking for the Revenge, though Lucius always refused to clarify what happened - for what reason, Pete had no idea. Now, however… Now he knew.

He couldn’t believe that Blackbeard would’ve done it for real; someone this cool would never do something like this, right? And yet, he had no reason not to believe what Lucius had said. Maybe it had been an accident, maybe Blackbeard didn’t really want to do it. Maybe he saw some dangerous insect make its way towards Lucius, and in swatting it away he caused him to fall; yeah, something like that.

 Well, whatever the reason was, that wasn’t the right moment to think about it, and Pete’s focus shifted again on Lucius and on the fact that, in the end, everything had turned out well, which, knowing this now, feels like nothing short of a miracle.

If something bad had happened to him, he… he didn’t know what he would’ve done, but he surely wouldn’t have been pretty.

  As he watches Lucius, now, with his gaze is trained on the rest of the crew having fun, he can’t help but to be overwhelmed by a big sense of melancholy, watching the longing in his eyes; he knows Lucius would love to join them, but if he did, he would probably panic again, just like he did all the other times he tried it. Captain said that some wounds are slow to heal, but Pete still can’t help but to wish that it would take them less time, so that Lucius can be fully happy again.

 At some point, Lucius turns towards him, an unreadable expression on his face. He seems to be studying Pete, just as Pete’s trying to study him as well, to get what’s going on inside his head, though soon they get lost in each other’s eyes, and for a moment, there’s nothing else besides the two of them.

They inch closer and closer, drawn to each other by an unstoppable force; their lips are about to touch… only for Lucius to turn his head back, gaze trained to an unspecified point in the distance.

“I know you want to join them. Don’t let me hold you back.” He turns towards Pete and flashes him a smile, an obviously forced one. “I’ll watch from here.”

It’s with extreme tenderness that Pete takes hold of Lucius’ hands, so that he can bring them closer and kiss each palm, making him swoon a bit - it’s great receiving such a positive reaction for every sweet thing he does.

“Chicken fights are nice, yes,” he says then, “but I’d rather be here with you.”

He’s not even lying: he genuinely enjoys Lucius’ company. Besides, he’s not going to abandon him when he knows that his presence brings him comfort; what kind of boyfriend would he be if he does that? A shitty one that’s for sure.

 At that, Lucius gasps. “Awww, baby!”

Before Pete can even say something, Lucius drags him closer by his shirt, and now they’re kissing, kissing and kissing again, held tight in each other’s embrace and with no intention of parting any time soon.

 Yeah, this is so much better than chicken fights.