#my knee has been weird recently! not sure what's up with it but every now and then it'll start hurting unless i walk kinda weird hhh

[keeps-ache]

there are many things i could make this post about, endless and endless options; but i can't get my hands on any of them right now so here's this pocket lint i found -> *

[stevenose]

disarm (18+)

contains: steve x reader; reader with a vagina; reader is called ‘girl’ once; sexual tension; drunk!flirty!steve; lil bit of inspection kink; size kink; teasing; no smut just whorish vibes

author note: i hope you folks like it! i won’t be doing a part 2 of this one, but hope you enjoy the tension :)

Steve’s always saying weird shit to you when he’s drunk.

You know he’s just uninhibited. That if he were sober he’d be so embarrassed. You keep telling yourself that, at least.

The first time he approaches you like this, he asks, “What color underwear you got on?”

You humor him, tipsy yourself. “Take a guess.”

Steve really looks like he’s thinking, dilated pupils staring deep into yours. “Red?”

“Nope.” you can’t stop looking at him, and he isn’t looking away either. “They’re blue, actually.”

“How’d you know that’s my favorite color?” he asks, voice low, leaning forward to rest his palm on your knee.

“Oh, you think I wore them for you?”

“I wish.”

He’s easily distracted and the conversation goes no further. It’s easy to shrug him off. You know he’s a whore, anyway - have to hear about his most recent date every time you see him.

But then it happens again.

Steve stops you in the hallway at the next party, his warm hand curling around your bicep gently. Makes you stop walking to look at him.

“Havin’ fun?” he asks. His t-shirt is cut low - your eyes are drawn to the dark patch of hair on his chest.

“I think so.”

He grins, borderline diabolical. Teeth straight and white, blunt edges that could bite bruises into your skin. “There’s a free bedroom upstairs if you wanna have more.”

“Huh?”

“I said -“ he leans in towards you, until the tip of his nose touches yours, “- there’s a free bedroom upstairs if you want to have more fun.”

He doesn’t stay very serious, however. He giggles, pulls away from you and winks before continuing on his way. You roll your eyes after him, trying to brush off the way he made your stomach flip. He apparently doesn’t fuck without a first date, anyway.

And then it just sort of keeps happening. Sometimes he’d just stare at you, mouth slightly agape, watching you from the other side of the room. Or he’d make sure his palm presses firmly against the small of your back as he “squeezes past” you to grab another drink, despite there being a five foot clearance.

One night, when he’s more drunk than usual - something to do with a bad week at work - he goes a lot farther than he has. He finds you in the corner of the living room, looking at the lines in your own palm.

“Hey,” he says, quite loudly, startling you.

When you look up, he’s extremely close to you. Eyes soft, but staring into yours. He smells like maraschino cherries, no doubt from the strawberry daiquiris he won’t admit he loves. “Hi,” you breathe, trying to look at his eyes, but they keep moving languidly from your eyes to your lips to your chest. Your breasts peak out from the scoop-neck of the baby tee you’re wearing. And, okay, it’s baby blue - you may have worn it just to see what he’d do.

“Can I help you?” you ask.

He nods, nose slanting downwards towards your tits. “Y’never really wear stuff like that.”

You shake your head. “Not really.”

“Why not?”

You grin. “Because pervs like you will stare.”

He scoffs. “That’s ‘stactly why you shouldn’t be wearin’ it here.”

Your eyes narrow at him. Now he’s just being annoying. “Oh, are you mad?”

“A little.” He licks his lips, tongue stained red from the mixer. “You should only be wearin’ somethin’ like that when you’re gonna get fucked.”

Your eyes widen, heart hammering in your chest, enough to feel it in your throat. He’s never been so forward before. And he’s backing you into the wall, trapping you in - very deliciously.

He tilts his head, highlighted hair bobbing over his forehead. “Are you gonna get fucked tonight?”

You swallow hard, blood icy cold. You’re not used to this tango, not with him. “You tell me.”

Steve blinks like he’s also shocked, goes a little slack jawed. He looks down at your tits, then back up. “I think you should get fucked tonight.”

Your hand clenches around your drink, threatening to fall to the floor. You’re weak, sore and needy between the legs.

Perhaps he’s willing to make an exception for the date rule for you.

“Will I?”

“With tits like those?” He nods down again. “Bet you’ve got the sweetest nipples. You like havin’ ‘em bit? Sucked?”

You wonder if he feels the heat radiating off of your face. “Steve,” you say, trying to give him a warning. You can’t breathe, knees beginning to shake. “What kind of friend asks that?”

His jaw clenches, then unclenches. “So you just see me as a friend?”

You bite your cheek. “That’s what you are, aren’t you? Or do you know something I don’t?”

“I -“

You’re both startled by the sound of champagne popping, shrieks and woops breaking you out of whatever you were just entangled in. And Steve, so easily distracted, groans and marches towards the kitchen, shouting, “I told you to take that shit outside!”

You inhale deep, thumping chest caving in, collarbones turning sharp. It’s suddenly so cold without him in front of you. You run a hand through your hair and look around, spotting Robin grinning at you from ear to ear. You roll your eyes at her and move through the living room to get some water and air.

You wonder if he’ll even remember when he’s sober. If he’ll apologize for asking something so insane. But he either doesn’t remember or wants to forget, because when you’re back to return tapes two days later he acts completely normal. It isn’t a bad thing - it’s a bit fun to play with him in such a non-serious way. Though you do find his hands gripping the next tape you rent for a bit too long, shoves your change into your hand and lets his palm linger against yours.

Another get together - you can hardly call it a party when there’s only ten people present - brings you back to his apartment two weeks later. It’s much more low key and he, in turn, drinks much less. He still gets drunk, though - laughing loudly, freckled neck on display. Does things he gives Robin shit for. You laugh beside her when she scoffs at him, throwing a pillow across the way to hit him in the back of the head.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” she says. “Do you want one?”

You tell her you’re okay and she’s off, leaving the couch beside you empty. Which Steve notes. Immediately.

“What’s a place like you doin’ in a girl like this?”

“You invited me,” you remind, the couch dipping as he sits beside you.

“Ohhh. And why’d I do that?”

You hum, trying to suppress a smile. “I don’t know. You must like me.”

He narrows his eyes. “You know I do.”

You’re already getting horny again. “Because I leave big tips for you?”

“And what do you know about big tips, huh?”

You laugh, a little shrill, feeling very much on the spot. Then he grabs your hand, pulling it up against his. You assume he’s comparing the size - a clear flirting tactic - and you watch him with much adoration as he examines them together. His first knuckle is able to come down on your finger tips and he grins. “You’ve got small hands.”

“Maybe yours are just freakishly big.”

“Wanna know what else is?”

Which, truly, in any other situation this would be funny. But it so isn’t. His words are deathly serious to you.

“Well, it can’t be your brain.”

Steve scoffs again. “Oh, funny.”

Out of nowhere, you’re doused with something cold. Robin’s tripped on the rug, spilling her wine on you. You gasp just as she says, “Oh, shit!”

“Rob-in!” Steve sounds more than exasperated with her, but it’s hard to take it seriously when he’s slurring.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry - I got - I tripped - with my big clown feet - oh my god, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” you promise, despite the huge red stain on your white shirt. It’s still dripping down you, onto your skirt. Drenched. “Uh, let me go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll help,” Steve says, stumbling when he stands, helping you off the couch. You’re certain he won’t be much help but you accept his assistance anyway.

You’ve noticed how Steve gets into these dad modes. Like, one time Robin choked on a lemon seed that was in her water and Steve wouldn’t let her drink without him checking her cup for two months afterwards. And there was the time that Eddie, clumsier than Robin, tripped and scraped his knee, and Steve acted like Eddie was five. So now it’s your turn, ushered into his bathroom while he props you against the counter and scrounges around for a towel.

“It’s okay,” you say, “I’m just wet.”

“I got it,” he assures, running a washcloth under the tap. You’re sure he thinks he’s helping, as much as he can when he’s inebriated, but you’re very certain a wet washcloth won’t help. He swats your hands away when you try to take it from him, and he starts blotting the wine.

His hair in your face smells fruity, like his hairspray. “Steve, I don’t think this is doin’ much.”

His brows are knitted in concentration. “‘s almost out.”

You look down. It is not.

But you let him feel important anyway. Watching as he dabs and dabs and dabs over your sternum. His breath tickling your neck. And now that the shock has worn off, you’re getting turned on again. By his attention, how he’s trying to help, how his big fucking paws are right there. You’re practically begging god to make him do something when his hands start wandering.

Steve brings the towel over your breast, blotting as usual, then slowing. Like it’s clicking what he’s doing. And then he presses a little harder, lingers for a while. His palm touching you more than the cloth. His eyes drift up to yours as he moves towards the other. And instead of blotting, his hand cups it.

You simply let him.

The cold has made your nipples perk up under your bralette. Steve’s thumb swipes over the hardened nub. You both stare at each other, willing the other to do more, but it’s left in a stalemate. Steve throws the washcloth in the sink, lets his hand slide over your heart.

“Heartbeat’s so fast,” he observes softly. “What’s that all about, huh?”

You swallow hard. “Lot of excitement.”

His eyes drift down. “I can tell.”

You take a big breath, looking away from him. “Do you have something I could borrow?”

“Like what?”

“Like, a shirt?”

Steve blinks, looking sad. “Oh. Yeah, yeah, prob’ly.”

As you walk behind him to his room, you decide you’ll throw him a bone whenever the opportunity arises. You certainly can’t have him thinking you don’t like his attention. You watch him clumsily rifle through his closet before he finds a black sweater that’ll match your skirt well enough.

It makes you dizzy how it smells like him, even freshly laundered. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” Steve simply stands in front of you, hands on his hips, lips pulled in tight. Looking at you like he’s thinking really hard.

You bite your lip, heartbeat fastening again. You turn from him to place the shirt on his bed, which seems to snap him out of whatever stupor he’s in. He clears his throat and turns to leave, but you call after him.

“Steve?”

He turns, brows furrowed. “Yeah?”

You inhale deep before slowly peeling your shirt off of you. Taking your time, letting it catch on the curve of your breasts. You let it slip to his floor and you continue watching him. Watching his chest rise and fall rapidly, his nostrils flaring, chestnut eyes staring right at your bra-clad chest. You’re so hot you’re beginning to sweat - and then you reach behind you to unclasp your wet bralette.

Steve’s jaw drops comically slow as it joins your shirt on the floor. You can’t help but to smile.

“What do you think?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head slowly. “Think you’ve been holdin’ out on me.”

You press your tits together with your arms as you shrug at him, turning around to fetch the sweater he’s given you. You figure it’ll be enough for him to know you’re wearing his shirt, chest bare underneath, but then he says, “Your skirt is wet, too.”

You don’t turn to look at him as you grab the fabric, leaning forward for it. “Don’t suppose you have one for me to borrow?”

You didn’t even hear him walking up behind you. You’re suddenly pressed into the bed, his hand pushing down on the space between your shoulder blades to keep you against the mattress. Your breath hitches, stomach flipping. You feel how hard he is against your ass, and he grinds once before sliding down to kneel behind you.

“What are you doing?” you breathe.

“Checkin’ out the damage.” His hands push your skirt up, up, up, until it rests above your ass. You feel his breath fanning across the back of your thighs. “Y’know,” he continues casually, “since you said you’re wet.”

Your breaths turn shallow. Steve’s hands, warm and soft, run up the backs of your thighs slowly. You part them for him. Heat rushes to your face when he laughs behind you, but he doesn’t say anything. Must just be overjoyed that you’re letting him do this.

His hands move to your hips, squeezing them slightly before tucking his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. You’re so dizzy it almost makes you sick - but you wait patiently as he slowly pulls them down.

“Oh, you weren’t kidding,” he observes quietly. Lets your underwear hang around your knees. “All this for me?”

“Yes,” you whine. “Been - you’ve been working me up for weeks.”

“I know.”

You want to call him a bastard, but you’re stunned into silence when he parts your folds. The sound it makes is embarrassing to you, but Steve coos at it. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy. Knew you would.”

You exhale shakily. “Steve….”

“Fucked my fist to it,” he admits. “But I didn’t think it’d be so tiny.”

And then one of his fingers presses against your hole. Just enough. You short circuit, electric running through you, knees going weak. Steve’s free hand steadies them, fingers splayed out along your skin.

“Can you even get any fingers in here?” he mumbles. Circles your little hole, your eyes crossing. “Know your hands are so tiny, too.”

“No,” you force yourself to say. “Not really.”

He sounds contemplative. “Just one of mine would split you in two.”

His finger trails down, resting at your swollen clit for a few short moments before he pulls away, yanking your underwear back up.

You feel more than upset. Devastated that he’s pulled away. You want to grab him, cunt hurting from the teasing with no relief.

“Steve-“

“You know I don’t fuck without a date first,” he grins. As if he didn’t just ruin your life with whatever that was. Like he didn’t just turn you into his cock-dumb whore. Jesus Christ, if he told you to spend the rest of the night topless, you would. “So here’s what’s gonna happen, okay?”

Then he’s back, leaning over you, pushing you into his bed. His cock really straining against his jeans while he presses into your ass. He puts his lips right up against your ear. “You’re gonna get dressed ‘nd we’re gonna party, ‘kay? Then tomorrow I’m gonna pick you up and take you for breakfast.” He ruts himself into you and you moan. “Sorry, sweetheart. ‘m usually a dinner guy but I can’t wait that long to have you. How’s nine sound?”

“You… there’s n-no way you’re going to be up at nine.”

He scoffs. “‘ve got an alarm clock.”

You press your ass back into him. “You’ll forget.”

“Haven’t forgotten you so far.” Grinds against you again.

“You remember when you’re sober?”

“Honey. You’re all I’ve been able to think about.”

Then he’s off of you, leaving your tits pressed to his mattress, overwhelmed. He walks towards his desk while you desperately try to stand - your legs are still shaking. Your fingers curl around his sweater just as he comes back, arm marked up with a pen.

BREAKFAST AT 9 WITH HOTTIE :)

“See? Won’t forget.”

You’re still not so sure - you’ll have to wait and see. As you finally start pulling his sweater on, he grabs your bra, tucking it into his back pocket. “I’ll wash it for you,” he says, patting it.

“Yeah? After you cum in it?”

Steve smiles deviously. “You wanna watch me do it?”

[carakook]

🎀 A “Coquette” Misunderstanding 🎀

“Mmm… depends. You gonna let me put a real bow on your dick? Make it all cute and coquette?”

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♡Pairings: fuckboy!Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

♡Synopsis: Jungkook has been a self proclaimed fuck boy after his last relationship ended fairly messily… until he met you. Started out as fuck buddies, but he always had a huge crush on you. With time, he realized that he’s actually falling in love with you, and he is itching to make you his girl. He knows being a fuck boy means he has to prove himself when it comes to being serious, so he comes up with the perfect gift to give you when he confesses… only for it to turn into the biggest fucking mess.

♡Genre: Romance/Comedy

♡Word count: 5k+

♡Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, mentions of sex, lewd references, lots of talk about penises, talks of being in love (ew!!!), arguing, mentions of alcohol, no smut but this fic revolves heavily around sex, making out, Jungkook is kinda stupid (bless his lil heart), also kind of weird in general? Let me know if I miss anything!

♡Disclaimer: This story in no way reflects the characters of those who are mentioned. It is pure fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Please don’t take it seriously. Nothing is real in this story.

♡A/N: This is my first request! I hope whoever requested it likes it, it was supposed to be a Drabble but I got a lil carried away… oops! The request was fuck boy Jungkook falls in love with Y/N, but there’s a misunderstanding that eventually gets resolved and they live happily every after! I have no idea how I came up with this 😭 it’s kinda silly and kinda weird but I think it’s cute. I hope you guys like it. 😅

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Jungkook finds himself wondering if he can possibly get anymore fucking stupider than he feels right now.

It seems when it comes to you, he simply loses brain cells. He’s not sure what it is about you, but anything involving you short circuits his brain as of late, and he is continuously fucking things up.

Maybe it’s because you’re so fucking pretty. Maybe it’s because the way you look at him makes his knees weak. Maybe it’s simply because he’s a man, and men are stupid… Or maybe, it’s because he had the recent revelation that for the first time literal in years, he has caught feelings.

And what’s worse is that he’s realized this isn’t just a little crush. He’s fucking in love with you, and it’s making him forget how to function.

Jungkook doesn’t catch feelings, not since his last relationship ended very messily two years ago. The way the relationship ended left a very bad taste in his mouth, so he decided to go back to his college days of being a fuck boy and never falling in love again…

Which was working for some time. It was freeing to be able go back to his old ways; he could enjoy a woman’s body and worship them like the goddesses they are, and then wake up the next day without feeling any obligation… or anything at all, really.

Until you came along.

You had been friends for years, although you were never very close. He always thought you were one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen, but he also thought you were so out of his league. You weren’t the type of girl to go for fuck boys; you were put together and had very high standards, you knew your worth. He liked that, but never really had the guts to push it because he was sure he didn’t fit those standards.

That is, until one drunken night at one of Jimin’s parties… you flirted with him heavily. It was the biggest fucking ego boost that he ever had. He never assumed you would be interested in him, because his noncommittal habits weren’t a secret. But on this night you were very obviously interested in him. You were being touchy, and sweet, and you just looked so fucking pretty.

This was the first night you slept together, and Jungkook doesn’t like admitting that you unraveled him in a way no other woman had. The sex was mind blowing. He has never felt such intense chemistry with someone before… and fuck, you gave the best head he ever gotten. He was addicted after that, he knew he didn’t want it to be a one time thing.

He didn’t want to make you his girlfriend necessarily, good sex still wasn’t enough for him to consider being with someone seriously again… but he did want to see you again. The next morning he was bashful; made you breakfast, drew you a warm bath with essential oils and pretty smelling soap, and even ordered you a very last minute bouquet of flowers to wake up to.

This alone should have told him that things would be different with you, because although Jungkook always treated a woman with love and care when they gifted him their body for a night, he never went this out of his way to impress them.

He told himself it was because he felt the need to overcompensate. In bed he’s very confident, but out of bed, he’s not as sure of himself… especially with you. He felt lucky to have a night with you, and he knew he needed to put an effort in to keep you interested in him because he wasn’t exactly your type. If he was able to keep you interested, then maybe you’d see him again.

He was right, you didn’t normally go for fuck boys. Casual sex wasn’t exactly your favorite, because men often forget to focus on the woman, too. You weren’t exactly looking for anything serious, but you also weren’t looking to sleep with some guy who only cared about himself in bed. And most hookups you had thus far ended with you less than satisfied.

It was uncharacteristic for you to sleep with guys like Jungkook, or really give them any attention at all. But Jungkook has always been pretty, and he’s always been so fucking sweet… that night at the party, he looked extra appealing to you.

Even then, you weren’t planning on doing it again. The chemistry was undeniably intense, but you weren’t a fan of sharing. There were health risks to sharing partners if one of you weren’t careful, and you didn’t like that it made you question yourself. You tried it before, and it just wasn’t for you. You like exclusivity, and that’s ok. Everyone has preferences and boundaries and not everyone will agree with yours.

This is why you didn’t plan to see him again. But when you woke up and saw all the sweet little things he did for you, you were definitely tempted… what really got to you was how he fucking looked at you; he looked at you like a love sick fucking puppy and it was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen. He was adorable. You’d never been with a man who was so fucking sexy but also so goddamn cute at the same time.

No guy had gone through such trouble after what was supposed to be a one night stand before. It was like he really was a dog; he brought you these little gifts in the form of acts of service in the hopes you would continue giving him head pats. Or, actual head in this case…

And although he wasn’t actually love sick, he definitely was a bit pussy whipped.

Temptation won in the end.

There was no spoken agreement between you two… you just started having sex regularly. And every time it was fucking toe curling. No man took care of your body so perfectly and left you 100% satisfied. But beyond the sex, you both found that you thoroughly enjoyed being around each other. You’d never knew each other well before this, you were mere acquaintances who were familiar with each other because of mutual friends, but you grew closer and got to know each other as time went on, and in the end you kept it going.

Of course you were worried about his reputation, but you didn’t push him or even ask for exclusivity. He never explicitly said that he wouldn’t be exclusive with you, but you started liking him and the sex was enough to let go of that boundary and make an exception for him. You knew he was safe and you knew he would always treat you right. This was enough for you… even if it sometimes bothered you that you didn’t know whether he was sleeping around or not. He wasn’t your boyfriend, just a fuck buddy you grew fond of.

Little did you know, he had no desire to sleep with anyone else. You didn’t even need to tell him these boundaries, because he knew without you telling him. He wouldn’t dare do something to fuck this up. The sex was so good that he didn’t have the want for anyone else, he didn’t even think about it. He still wasn’t quite ready to be serious with someone, but he was content with you in a way that he never had been any of his previous hookups or fuck buddies. He wanted to keep you as long as you’d let him.

A routine started; as time went on you spent more time together, hung out often, and fucked like rabbits. You played with his hair and scratched his back, you picked on him and made fun of him in a way that made him laugh every time, and you knew exactly how to handle him even when he was a bit overwhelming. He was so content with what you both started.

Until recently.

Jungkook started realizing a few weeks ago that maybe having thoughts of an entire future with someone who’s only supposed to be your fuck buddy isn’t exactly normal. Sometimes he’d lay awake at night thinking of you for hours… he’d imagine taking you on actual dates, not just little outings disguised as friends hanging out. He’d imagine getting to brag about you being his girlfriend. But what really started to make it obvious was when he imagined what you’d look like in a wedding dress…

Five months in and he realized he’s falling for you. He’s so fucking gone for you, and for once, he’s giddy about it.

You’d both developed this sort of playful relationship. When you weren’t fucking, you were always joking around and making each other laugh. You both had a very crude sense of humor and so many little inside jokes. It was comfortable, and he started feeling like a kid on Christmas Day at the thought of keeping it going forever.

He wanted to ask you to be his girlfriend, but he knew you’d be hesitant because of his history. He wanted to do something for you that not only would prove to you he’s serious, but something that was special. He didn’t want to get you a piece of jewelry, or a bouquet of flowers with a card; he wanted it to be something only you would experience. He wanted to go all out for you.

He recalled a conversation you both had one time over dinner at his place while watching a drama. The guy in the drama was proposing to the main character, and it was as cliche as any other drama.

“That’s so cheesy. Why can’t guys be more creative? He’s asking her to spend fucking forever with him, more thought should go into it.”

“Yeah? Well if a guy proposed to you how would you want him to do it then?”

“I dunno… but not like that. Forever is a long fucking time, whoever decides to propose to me better do something more special than a damn ring.”

“But that’s literally what a guy is supposed to do, how else would he do it? You’re supposed to get the girl a ring and get on your knees n’ shit.”

“That’s so cliche though! I dunno, I’d rather something else… like maybe a dildo that was a replica of his dick. Something to the effect of ‘will you ride my dick forever?’”

That conversation ended in laughter of course, because you were only joking… but also, as Jungkook thought back on it, it would be so fucking perfect.

Not only would it show that he remembered the little things, but it would also break the stigma that he created for himself; it would show you that he was serious, he had no desire to be with anyone else sexually emotionally, and it would fit in with your playful dynamic. Like a little inside joke, and although he isn’t asking you to marry him, he wants the message to be clear that he wants to build a forever with you.

So he did some research. He original thought about getting you a dildo that was a replica of his dick, and found that there were DIY kits he could buy to make it himself. But also… why would you need a dildo if you had him? So he researched the more artistic aspect of things and found that there were actually a lot of artists who specialized in making replica sculptures of men and women’s body parts.

He liked this much more, because he felt it was a bit more sentimental and maybe more fitting. He found one artist in particular who’s sculptures and paintings looked very realistic. In their portfolio, they featured some comparisons of the pictures that inspired the sculpture vs. the sculpture they made, and there was barely a difference. They clearly had talent, and he was totally fine dropping however much money to get this done for you.

So he contacted the artist to order a commission. It was a hefty price, because he paid to have the process expedited. He wanted this done as soon as possible because he was practically shaking with excitement at the thought of asking you to be his girlfriend. But the price was worth it. The artist asked him some questions and listened to his requests. His only request was that it would be life sized, it would have a little pink bow wrapped around it (because you loved cute things, he remembers you called it ‘coquette’ once.), and somewhere it would have ‘Property of Y/N’ on it. The artist was confident that they could have it sculpted, shipped, and delivered by the end of the week. All the artist needed was a picture of his penis for reference.

Awkward, but understandable. It was very professional, obviously if he wanted the sculpture to look like his dick the artist would need a reference photo. This was purely for artistic purposes, it’s not like he was sending nudes or getting off on it. He was doing this for you and he couldn’t fucking wait to see the finished product or hear your little giggles when he presents it to you.

But of course, in his excitement, he fucks up exponentially.

He was supposed to email the photo of his dick to the artist. So he has no fucking idea why after he took the photo, he texted it to you… probably because subconsciously, who the fuck else would he be sending pictures of his dick to? He’s not even the kind of guy to send nudes, but he has a few times with you on nights that you’re both too busy to actually meet up and have sex.

He could’ve just played it off and said something stupid like ‘surprise’, but he immediately panicked because he was afraid you’d figure out what he’s doing. Which is so fucking stupid because how the fuck would you ever guess what he’s doing?

So what does he do instead?

He handled it very poorly, to say the least. He didn’t know what the fuck to do, and he had no idea why the told you he sent it to the wrong person. It was because it was the truth, that’s why. He didn’t really think anything of it when he admitted he sent it to the wrong person, because he had a clear conscious. Why lie when he has a clear conscious?

He panicked not because he was guilty, but because he was scared that you would catch on and the surprise would be ruined… which is so fucking stupid. Out of everything, you couldn’t possibly guess what he was doing.

He didn’t think about the implications of telling you that it was the wrong person, and it just went downhill from there. He really should have just told you the truth in that moment, but he doubts you would have believed him. The story would seem far fetched at this point because of how vague he was being in the beginning.

And you really didn’t believe him. You trusted Jungkook, but that message reminded you that you aren’t exclusive with him. He isn’t your boyfriend. He has a reputation of being a fuck boy and he’s just your fuck buddy. So it wouldn’t have been a surprise if he really was messing around with other girls considering he technically has every right to… but it still stung.

If he had come out and admitted it was meant for another girl, you would have probably been a bit bitchy about it, but you wouldn’t have fought with him over it. He has the right to see other people when you both never agreed to only see each other. It was that feeling of being lied to that set you off, you fucking hate being lied to. You have your fair share of history involving men who lie, and although you made an exception on one of your boundaries for Jungkook, you refused to make an exception on being lied to for any man.

And even though he wasn’t actually lying, how the fuck would you have known that? He’s right, if he did send you some elaborate paragraph about what the picture was actually for, and how he just instinctively sent it to you after taking it, you probably wouldn’t have believed him after he denied it so vaguely like he did.

For days he tried to talk to you. He blew up your phone, called and texted hundreds of times, blew up your Instagram notifications, and even started fucking making tweets on Twitter begging you to talk to him and let him explain (dramatic as fuck, his friends made fun of him for it, and he didn’t care because he was desperate.) You ignored him, of course, because deep down you were a bit hurt. You really couldn’t stand the thought that we was sending nudes to someone else, possibly fucking them, and then lying to you about it.

It reminds you as to why you have the boundary of exclusivity… and also makes you realize that maybe you like Jungkook a little more than you thought you did.

He’s a mess. He kept debating whether or not to just show up to your place, get on his knees and beg you to listen to him… but he knew you wouldn’t let him in, not unless he had proof of what actually happened. He feels so goddamn stupid. He could easily show up and show you the email as proof, explain his thought process and what the picture was for, what he was doing, confess that he’s fucking in love with you and wanted to do something to show you how serious he is…

But he decides to give you space. He knows that it’s unlikely you want to listen to him or see him right now, and he needs to let you cool off. By the time the sculpture is delivered, he can show up, explain himself, and do everything as planned.

It’s the longest fucking week of his life. His thoughts are consumed with you and he prays that when he does show up, it isn’t too late, and you’ll let him explain himself.

That you’ll say yes after it’s all said and done.

The next Friday, he receives the package. He nearly fumbles with it as he opens it, wanting to get this shit over with so you guys will be ok again.

Just as expected, it’s perfect. It’s obviously not the exact same as his dick, but it’s pretty fucking close. It looks exactly as you would expect a sculpture of a dick to look like. The bow that was sculpted onto it is perfect, pink and detailed, wrapped between the tip of the sculpted dick and the base. At the very bottom of the base, in tiny cursive letters reads ‘Property of Y/N’. He thinks it’s perfect, and if you find it in yourself to hear him out, he knows you’ll love it. He can already imagine your cheeks getting pink as you giggle at the absurd gesture.

He gets himself ready. He puts on some cologne, brushes his teeth, stares at himself in the mirror a little too long trying to psych himself up. He knows showing up without warning is probably not the best way to go, but he hopes that once you open the door and see him bearing gifts, you’ll be more open to listening to what he has to say.

He makes a stop on his way to your place because he impulsively decides to buy you some flowers and a cute gift box for the sculpture. He’s in a rush because he feels like he’s dying on the inside with you so upset at him. When he gets the flowers, he just stuffs a wad of cash in the florists hand before running back off to his car. He probably overpaid for them… but he doesn’t care.

He makes quick work of putting the sculpture inside of the pink box he picked out, adds a matching pink bow for good measure. Once he’s satisfied, he carefully placed the flowers and the gift box in his front seat, and nearly peels out of the parking lot in a hurry to get to you.

You’ve been sulking all damn week, because you miss him. At first you were pissed, because you swore he was lying, he just had to be. Why else would he be sending dick pics to someone? But as the week went on, you did start to question yourself. Because Jungkook had never given you a reason to not trust him, and despite that fact that neither of you have ever explicitly said it was exclusive… you know that it is.

Because when you’re both in a room full of people, his eyes never stray. When he tells one of his stupid jokes, the first person he looks for a reaction in is you. When he goes to the grocery store, despite you not living together, he always stocks up on your favs. And every morning and every night, no matter what, you are the first and last person he talks to. The little things tell you everything you need to know.

Even now, after he stopped blowing your phone up because you continued to ignore him, he made sure to text you good morning and goodnight.

So why would he lie? Why would he lie when all of the signs are there that you are his sole focus? You may be unaware of how deep his feelings are for you, but the little things show where his loyalties lay.

It’s just so hard to believe him because you can’t possibly fathom who else he could be sending nudes to, and if the reason wasn’t sexual, then why? You don’t exactly send pictures of your genitals to someone for casual or platonic reasons, so…

You’re sitting on your couch watching TV and pouting when he knocks at your door. You aren’t expecting anyone, so you have a feeling it’s him… you debate not answering the door, but in the end you do, because you’re just as irritable without him as he is you.

You open the door and keep a neutral expression on your face, you see him standing there with those same love sick puppy eyes and you nearly fold right then and there.

He’s holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a fairly large pink box with a bow on top. So he came prepared, it seems. You don’t know whether to be flattered or offended at the supposed bribe, but you keep an open mind.

“What do you want?” You say cooly… as if you’re not going to let him in anyway.

“Y/N can we please talk? I know you hate me right now, but please just let me explain myself. I swear this is all just a really big and stupid misunderstanding.”

He has no idea what’s going on in your head right now because you seem so calm, so collected. He wishes he could be like you, because if you don’t let him in, he swears he’s gonna cry and bang on your door until you let him. He’s not above throwing a fit at this point.

You stand there for a moment staring at him, making it seem as if you’re skeptical… but really, you just missed his pretty face.

“Fine.”

You open your door for him and he nearly fucking pushes you down when he barges his way in, afraid you’re going to change your mind.

He makes his way to your couch and sits down, pats the spot next to him and sits the gift box down on your coffee table along with the flowers.

“These are for you… open it first.”

You cross your arms and scoff at him, don’t sit down yet. You start to wonder if he’s avoiding actually explaining, wanting to butter you up first so that you’ll be more willing to forgive him.

“What? No, explain why you lied about sending—“

He holds his hand up to stop you from speaking, “Dammit, Y/N, open the damn gift first. You need to see it in order for me to explain. Please.”

You huff at him in response, because it’s kinda hot when he talks to you like that… but now is not the time to get hot and bothered. You don’t even know what his supposed ‘explanation’ is or if it’s something you’re willing to forgive.

You do listen to him though, you take a seat on the couch and grab the pink box. You take off the bow, which you love, and you carefully open up the box to reveal…

A penis. Hm.

You take it out and start inspecting it… you don’t know how to feel yet. You’ve been sleeping with him for months, you both know each others bodies very intimately, so you can immediately tell that it is indeed his dick, specifically because of the little heart shaped freckle down the shaft. You notice the bow that’s sculpted into it too, and you find yourself giggling at it without meaning to. Just like he thought you would. The entire gesture makes your cheeks warm. Such an odd fucking gift, but you already love it.

You turn it over, and you see at the base of it right above the testicles of the sculpture, in cute little letters ‘Property of Y/N’.

As weird as it is, you find the gesture so fucking cute… but you also don’t understand it. You don’t understand why he just gave you a coquette sculpture of his dick, what this has to do with the dick pic, and why it says property of Y/N, because that’s a very serious thing to put on a sculpture of his dick that he just have to you.

Before you gush over how much you love the silly thing, you ask wearily, “Ok… but like… what does this have to do with anything?”

Jungkook let’s out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in and his heart pounds because he’s so fucking thankful you seem to be open to hearing him out.

He begins explaining hesitantly, “Yeah, right, so umm… lately I’ve been thinking… about us. And I sort of realized that I… like you. Like, a lot. Not just the sex or the whole fuck buddy thing, but I really fucking like you as a person Y/N.”

Now your heart is pounding because you genuinely didn’t expect this confession. Which in return, makes you impatient… because you like him too. But you can’t tell him that until you figure out what the fuck happened with the dick pic and wether or not you need to stop this before it starts, or forgive him, or even apologize for not letting him explain.

“Ok but what does that have to do—“

“I’m getting to that. Just… ugh, shut up, this is embarrassing.”

He looks away from you and starts biting at his lip ring. You feel kinda bad, because he really does look embarrassed about it. But oh, it is so fucking cute…

You nod at him and lean back into the couch, the sculpture in your lap as you silently agree to let him continue and try to keep your impatience in check.

He reluctantly continues, “After realizing this, I wanted to… tell you. Wanted to ask you to be my girlfriend. But I didn’t want to be cliche about it, I remember us talking about it before… so I wanted to do something special… something only for you.”

He lets out a breathy laugh and squeezes his eyes shut, because he starts overthinking a bit. He wanted to to something special for you, so he got a fucking sculpture of his dick made… ridiculous train of thought. Such a fuck boy thing to do.

“I remembered you making a joke about how if a guy proposes, you’d want it to be with something other than a ring… and I’m not proposing! But you know, it’s similar so… yeah. Fuck. Anyway, I did some research and found out that apparently dick sculpting is a type of art? And my dumb ass thought that was perfect…”

He chances a glance at you, looking up from his lashes as he sits forward and rests his elbows on his knees. So far, you seem receptive of the story… you don’t seem to be suspicious of him yet. Thank fuck.

“I commissioned an artist to make a sculpture of… my dick. For you. And they needed a picture for reference… it was all very professional. But when I took the picture, I guess I just automatically sent it to you, because I don’t do that shit with anyone else. So I didn’t think. But when I realized I texted it to you, instead of emailing it to the artist… I told the truth because I didn’t think about the implications. And I did a very fucking bad job at attempting to explain when you did start questioning it. That’s my bad…”

It’s slowly starting to make sense. The story is a bit… far fetched. But it’s so far fetched that you highly doubt Jungkook would have gone through the trouble to actually commission an artist and drop who knows how much on this sculpture just to save his ass. It may be a very specific situation, an original experience, if you will… but the proof is in the pudding, and you can tell by the look on his face that he isn’t lying.

“I should’ve just told you what happened but I doubted you’d believe me after how badly I fumbled. So I waited for the damn thing to show up. I can show you the emails back and forth with the artist and stuff too if you want… but Y/N I swear I wouldn’t lie about something like that. I haven’t fucked or even looked at another woman since we started messing around… don’t want to. Only want you. So please believe me.”

He looks at you with pleading eyes, and gives you a small pitiful smile. You do believe him. You really didn’t have any reason not to to begin with, but the miscommunication prevented you from seeing that.

It really was just some very stupid misunderstanding.

You say nothing. Instead, you set the sculpture down carefully, and you scoot closer to him. You grab his face gently, and lean in to kiss him.

Fuck. He missed your lips so bad.

He immediately kisses you back, damn near whines at how good it feels to have you again. To see that you aren’t rejecting his explanation or refusing to trust him, but you’re forgiving him. He kisses you back sweetly, one of his hands coming to the nape of your neck while the other cradles your jaw.

You pull back and murmur, “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Was stupid of me. Forgive me.”

He smiles so fucking stupidly at this and nudges his nose against yours. He starts peppering your face with little kisses as he says, “Forgive me for being a fucking idiot…”

One last huge smooch to your forehead, and he pulls you into his lap. He feels so much more lighter now that things are cleared up. God, he wants to fucking laugh at how absurd it all is. All week he started to regret ever choosing to get a sculpture made of his fucking penis as a way to ask you to be his damn girlfriend… who the fuck does that?

Him, apparently. And he started wishing he fucking didn’t.

But seeing you now, seeing how you’re smiling at him with the same adoration in your eyes as him, he’s thankful he did it. Sure, was a very odd gift to get you… but it suits your dynamic perfectly. And the way you giggled at it bashfully, he knows you absolutely loved it.

He reaches down and squeezes your ass as you sit on his lap, not trying to initiate anything, just wanting to touch you. He stares at you in silence for a moment, because a week away from your pretty face was far too much.

He flicks his lip ring with his tongue before asking, “So… does that mean you’ll be my girlfriend then…?”

He doesn’t mean to sound so awkward when he asks, but he’s nervous that you’ll say no because you didn’t really say anything when he explained earlier…

Stupid boy, can’t he see how much you fucking adore him? Of course you’ll say yes.

But even then, you hum in response as your hands reach up to play with his hair, as if you’re mulling it over and considering your options.

“Mmm… depends. You gonna let me put a real bow on your dick? Make it all cute and coquette?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t even hesitate. Of course he will. Fucking anything you want if that means you’ll be his girlfriend, if you’ll let him love you and fuck you and take care of you for what he hopes is forever. And honestly, the thought of you putting a bow on his dick weirdly turns him on.

You giggle at him, lean in and press your lips against his again. You kiss him once more, a bit more tongue this time just so you can hear him pant and feel his heart beat faster against your chest.

When you finally come up for air, you say against his lips, “Then yes. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, was nervous you were going to say no. But you didn’t. And he has never felt so fucking excited or proud about something, he swears.

He can actually say that you’re his girl now. Thank god for his coquette dick.

[strangersmunsons]

Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 4 Prompt: Baking 🍰 ~ 1,700 words you bake some cupcakes for your handsome older neighbor, Eddie. (implied age gap, intentionally vague)

You wipe sweat off your brow with the back of your hand, leaving a smear of frosting on your forehead. 

This process has taken up more of your day than you expected it to, but you’ll spend as much time as necessary to get this right, because it’s for Eddie Munson.

Your handsome older neighbor has been occupying an alarming amount of space in your mind lately. It’s a recent development; you’d been moved into the new house for quite some time before you actually met him. He seemed to keep odd hours, and you only ran into him by chance one day, when you were both walking to the corner store up the road.

At first glance he was intimidating, with his long hair and all his leather, but he chatted with you easily during the whole impromptu excursion. Once inside the market he quickly bought his pack of cigarettes and then insisted on staying with you, so he could escort you back home, too.

He dragged on a Lucky Strike as he strolled down the sidewalk, his pretty face silhouetted against the setting sun in the distance, and you couldn’t look away. He left you at your door with a cheeky grin and a “Good to finally meet you. ‘Night, little lady.”

If those words had come out of anyone else’s mouth, you’re not sure what your reaction would have been. But spoken by Eddie? Your knees had gone weak.

Since then he seemed to be popping up more and more frequently. Every time you happened to glance out the window he was there. Sprawled out in a wicker chair on his porch, a paperback held flat against his knee; peering under the hood of his car, tinkering away on the engine; he even stopped by a few times when the weather got cold, offering to shovel the snow from your driveway and scrape the ice off your windshield, each time armed with a charming smile and a twinkle in his eye.

The self-indulgent part of you wants to believe it’s because he likes you, and so he’s making an effort for you to see him; the more rational part of you knows you’re seeing him now because you want to see him.

Regardless, you were thinking that you wanted to do something nice for him. Some neighborly gesture that’ll give him some indication of your interest, without requiring you to be too forward. You just hope that he’ll pick up on what you’re putting down.

The kitchen table is a mess of baking utensils and splatters of cake batter, but you’re pleased with the results. Six red velvet cupcakes iced — and filled — with cream cheese frosting and pink sprinkles are all neatly arranged on a platter, just waiting to be carried over to Eddie’s house. The heart-patterned liners feel appropriate but also a tad cheesy, maybe even overkill; but if he seems weirded out by the whole thing, you’ll just tell him they’re leftover from a batch you planned on taking to work.

You lose the apron and wash your hands in the sink, then skip to the bathroom to give yourself a final once over. You clean the frosting off your face, and fix your hair nervously with your fingers. Quit stalling.

You slip a coat on, and keep your hands as steady as possible as you carry the platter cautiously outside. Small, quick steps lead you to Eddie’s doorstep, and you balance the edge of the tray against your hip so you can rap your knuckles on the door.

The seconds tick by, and the door finally swings open. Eddie’s in black sweats and an Iron Maiden t-shirt, hair looking wild and disheveled; his eyes look puffy with sleep, but they light up when he realizes who he’s looking at.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, voice husky from his afternoon nap. “What can I do for ya?”

“Hi,” you respond, soft and breathy with nerves. Your mouth opens to continue and then snaps shut again, a realization of horror creeping upon you: the lines you’ve been practicing in your head all day have evaporated into nothing. Poof! They’re gone, and now you’re standing here like an idiot. 

Eddie stares at you curiously. You thrust the tray forward clumsily, any illusion of poise shattered. “These are for you!”

He looks startled. “Those are for me?” he repeats, like maybe he misheard you. 

You nod.

Now he’s the one at a loss for words. “Thank you,” he says automatically, gazing down at the dessert-laden plate clutched between your hands. He shakes his head as though trying to clear it, and steps back inside the house, gesturing for you to enter. “Here, come inside. You’re not gonna have me eat these all by myself now, are you?”

You suck in a quick breath and scurry over the threshold, entering Eddie’s home for the first time. It’s a little messy but surprisingly cozy, with a squashy-looking furniture set and knick knacks on every flat surface. Music posters hang in black frames along the walls, showcasing a lot of long-haired men who, quite frankly, all look sort of the same to you, although they’re apparently all different bands.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the couch, “and I’ll get us some napkins.” You gingerly perch yourself on the soft leather cushion, while he disappears further back into the house, presumably into the kitchen. When he returns he plops down in the seat next to you, taking the platter and setting it down on the coffee table with a pile of napkins. Then he stifles a yawn as he slumps back into the couch.

You feel bad. “Were you asleep? I’m so sorry if I woke you up.”

He waves you off. “Don’t worry, my alarm went off a few minutes ago. If I don’t set one when I nap, I’ll sleep the whole day away. These old bones are tired, you know,” he jokes. 

You shake your head in disagreement. “You’re not old.”

He pokes your shoulder. “I’m old next to you.”

You try to laugh but there’s a pang in your heart. Is he trying to tell me something? You wring your hands, and don’t reply.

Eddie peers at you with a gentle smile on his lips, his dark eyes crinkled at the corners. “Did you make these yourself?”

“I did indeed.”

“They look amazing.” He picks one up and takes a large bite, the frosting smearing clean up his nose. You giggle through a bite of your own dessert.

“What?” he says thickly, giving you a deadpan stare. “Something on my face?”

Hesitantly, you reach out with your napkin, wiping the sugary cream from his nose and upper lip. He scrunches his face but pushes into your hand, letting you clean him up. A thrill shoots through you at being able to touch him, even if it’s through a paper barrier.

“Thanks, sweetheart. These are incredible, by the way. Thank you for bringing them.”

“Of course.”

He clears his throat, and sets his cupcake down on the table so he can give you his full attention. “If you don’t mind me asking, um…why did you bring them?”

You’re answer evasively, still unsure of how he sees you. “Because I thought you’d like them.”

He gives you that penetrating stare again, and it’s like you’re being swallowed up in those dark irises. You feel as though he must see right through you, all your intentions laid bare. 

“Thank you for thinking of me. You’re real sweet for that.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Do you do this for all your neighbors?”

“No. But my other neighbors don’t walk me home from the corner store and shovel my sidewalk.” 

He purses his lips, as though he’s deep in thought, although still half-teasing you. “I see. So these cupcakes are purely transactional?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. He’s not really giving anything away, and this game is too hard for you to keep playing. “Well, no. I also…just wanted to do something nice for you. To make you happy.”

His face is impassive. “Rest assured, you’ve certainly done that.” He leans in closer to you, hand rubbing his chin pensively. “But you know what would make me even happier?”

You hold your breath. “What’s that?”

“If you stayed for dinner.”

Your heart leaps with joy. “You mean it?”

“Yes.” His warm expression suddenly flickers with worry. “But only if you really want to.”

“I really want to, Eddie.”

There’s a brief silence, and the energy in the room shifts. Eddie lets his hand wander over to your knee, gazing at you with heavy-lidded eyes. “I like it when you say my name,” he whispers, staring unabashedly at your lips.

Feeling both validated and bold, you close the distance separating the two of you. “I’ll just bet,” you whisper, letting your smiling lips ghost over his with every word.

Strong, tattooed hands hold both sides of your face as Eddie finally seals his mouth to yours in a kiss. It starts out firm but gentle, and you sigh; his tongue slips in between your parted lips, sugary-sweet, and you press your body closer to his. He moves to embrace you tightly, winding one arm around your waist, and cupping the back of your head with his other hand, his kisses becoming deeper and more frantic. 

He suddenly breaks away, gasping. 

“Everything okay?” you ask dazedly, not finished with him. 

He laughs. “Everything’s perfect,” he reassures you. “I’ve been hoping this would happen. But I want you to know, regardless of what happens in the next few minutes, I really do want to cook for you.”

You melt, fingers playing with the curls at the back of his neck. “You’re a really nice guy, you know that?”

He brushes your kiss-swollen bottom lip with a calloused thumb. “I’m glad you think so.”

His tone confuses you. “Others don’t?”

“I have a certain look.”

“I like how you look.”

He presses another quick kiss to your lips. “You’re a sweet girl,” he says quietly, echoing his statement from earlier. 

You fall back into him, and although it’s several hours later, Eddie makes good on his promise. Over dinner, he poses the question again, “You know what would make me even happier?”

You bite, fingers intertwined with his. “What would make you even happier?”

“If you just stayed.”

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

[lucy90712]

Road to recovery- Part 5

Masterlist

Over the last month Pablo and I have talked pretty much every day in fact there was only one day where we didn't talk at all and that was because we both just happened to have completely opposite schedules so there was no time in the day for us to talk. It has been so nice having someone to talk to about life but also about our injury as there are times you just want to know that someone else is feeling the same as you are and Pablo is always there to tell me what I need to hear. So far things have been tough for both of us as we are usually such active people but when one of us has a bad day the other is always there to offer encouragement which on some days has been much needed. 

Pablo has stuck by his promise of helping me any time I need it too. There has been times that my brother hasn't been able to take me to where I need to go as he's been away racing but every time Pablo has helped me by getting one of his teammates to drive me. Usually Pedri will drive me but sometimes Fermin has driven me place too. It's still weird to me every time one of them shows up as they are always so nice that you could easily forget that they are both famous footballers but that's always in the back of my mind when I see them. I get along with both Pedri and Fermin very well and now I have their numbers too so I can text them if I need help getting somewhere. If you'd have told me on the day I injured myself that a month later I'd have 3 footballers numbers and talk to one everyday I'd have told you that you were nuts. 

Yesterday Pablo and I were texting like we usually do when he asked me if I'd want to go to his place to spend a few hours together. A month ago that would've sent me into a spiral but the two of us have been talking so much that it didn't feel as weird anymore it was just like agreeing to see any other friend. I quickly agreed to see him as we haven't seen each other in person since leaving the hospital and neither of us have seen that many people recently either. Of course we can't do much but we both agreed that it would be nice to at least have some company. 

Although he only asked yesterday Pablo and I agreed to meet today as neither of us have physio today and it's not like we are doing much else. Luckily my brother is able to drive me there all I had to do was tell him when to pick me up and give him the address when he arrives oh and I had to promise that I wouldn't do anything he wouldn't do which is up for interpretation. Everything takes me so much longer now that I can't use my knee so I had to get up earlier than I usually would to shower and get myself ready. I had no idea what to wear as most days I've been wearing sweatpants and a hoodie as no one really sees me but I felt like I should put more effort in if I'm going to see Pablo. In end I put on some jeans and a cute top which looked good but was still comfortable I even did my hair which has spent most of its time up in a bun or a ponytail until today. 

Before I knew it Alonso was letting himself in to my apartment and coming to help me downstairs. He took my bag off me which has all my necessities as well as pain killers as sometimes I still need to take some as the day goes on and we slowly made our way to the lift and then out to his car. I got myself settled into the car while Alonso took my crutches and put them in the back for me before he got in himself. 

"My little sister off to a football players house never thought I'd say those words" Alonso laughed 

"Me neither but here we are" I said 

"I know you've been talking to him every day but I want you to be careful I'm sure he's a great guy but I don't want him taking advantage of you just because he thinks you are going through a tough time and he can convince you to do anything he wants" he lectured 

"He's not like that Alonso he's really sweet and so are the rest of his friend he wouldn't take advantage of me" I said 

"I'm not saying he will but bare in mind both of you are going through a tough time and having someone there for you can skew your feelings for someone I trust your judgement but I just don't want you to get hurt" he said 

"I know but I'm an adult now I can look after myself" I said 

"Just know if anything goes south I now know where he lives and I'm not afraid to show him he can't hurt my sister" he half threatened half joked 

"Like you could win a fight" I laughed 

"I'm starting to wonder why I agreed to drive you" he joked 

Once we arrived Alonso helped me up to Pablo's door even though I was fine doing it myself and he rung the doorbell just as I was about to text Pablo to say I'd arrived. I think he just wanted to see Pablo and make sure I hadn't been given some random address but at the same time I felt embarrassed that when Pablo opened the door my brother would just be stood behind me like I'm a child but he probably won't even think about it. 

Surprisingly when Pablo answered the door he completely ignored Alonso and just pulled me in for a hug straight away. The hug wasn't very steady as the both of us still need our crutches for support but it still felt good to be in his arms. Just like the first time he hugged me I felt safe and like I was at home which I really shouldn't be feeling with a guy I've only met in person twice but it's just how I feel. Once we both pulled away he invited me in so I said goodbye to Alonso before happily going inside suddenly not caring about my brother and if he was going to pick me up later. 

Pablo was so sweet he made sure I was comfortable before going to get me some water even though I said I could do it myself. When he sat down there was an awkward silence for a minute before he asked me how I've been doing which started a conversation and suddenly it was like we had never been apart. It was like seeing an old friend that once you see each other it's like you haven't spent a minute apart even if it's been years. For some reason Pablo and I seemed to just connect with each other and I don't know if part of that is because we are going through the same thing or if we would've been the same if we'd met any other time in our lives. That doesn't matter though because we are friends now and I'm so happy to have someone like Pablo in my life. 

We talked about a whole lot of nothing for ages the time flew by so quickly that we didn't even realise that we hadn't moved for hours until we both said we were hungry at the exact same time which made us laugh. I offered to make lunch for the both of us but Pablo wouldn't let me he insisted that we order food so I tried to offer to pay half but he shut that down very quickly. I felt so bad because he's been doing so much for me and I feel like I'm not giving him anything in return but there's not much I can do as I don't have as big of a support system around me as Pablo does. 

"I feel bad you doing all this for me and I'm not helping you at all" I said 

"Don't say that you have done loads to help me whenever I need someone to talk to you are always there without your support I'd be such a mess don't feel like you have to physically do anything to help me your emotional support is what I need the most" he said 

"Ok but the second you do need anything other than emotional support please tell me and I'll do it" I said 

"I promise I'll call you if I need anything ok as long as you promise not to stress about this again" he said 

"I promise" I replied 

Soon enough our food arrived and after we ate we went back to talking. As we were talking I happened to mention that I'd never played fifa purely because I'd never had much of an interest in football before but as soon as I said that Pablo handed me a controller and started loading fifa. I had no idea what I was doing so he had to teach me all the controls and how the game works but once he'd done that we went straight in. I was so shit at the game I could barely move the players so Pablo beat me 10-0 like it was nothing and I could tell he wasn't even trying. I had no choice but to laugh at how bad I was but Pablo was determined to teach me so he made me sit right next to him so he could help me. Pablo set it up so we were playing against someone random and when the game started he put his hands on top of mine to help me with the controls. We did really well which was a surprise because the whole time all I could think about was the fact that Pablo's hands were on mine and that his body was so close to mine. 

Even after we stopped playing we still sat right next to each other and Pablo had one arm resting behind my back. I could feel my breathing getting quicker by the second but luckily my phone saved me as it started ringing so I had to answer it which made things a lot less awkward. It was my brother asking me when I wanted to be picked up and telling me if I needed him to pick me up it had to be before a certain time as he had something to do. I made him wait a second while I talked to Pablo and we agreed that it would be best if Alonso came to pick me up which meant we had about an hour left together. 

The hour went by so quickly but it was ok because Pablo and I already agreed that we should see each other more often and he promised to text me when he was next free. After taking my stuff from me Alonso waited in the car while I said goodbye to Pablo. He hugged me first before he leaned down and kissed my cheek. In that moment I was so thankful that it was starting to get dark outside as otherwise Pablo would've seen my cheeks turn a bright shade of pink at feeling his lips on me. After that we said goodbye and I hobbled away as quickly as I possibly could only to be met with teasing remarks from my brother once I got in the car which earned him a punch in the arm so he shut up after that leaving me to think about what just happened.

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

250+ blackbonnet fic recs, part 1

friends, come forward to receive the fruits of my hyperfixation. under a read more to spare the uninterested a mile of post, and so i can update this as i continue to hyperfixate.

update: the hypefixation broke link limit! i’ve split this into two posts so it can continue growing.

contents of part one, below

s1 fix-its

multichapter canonverse

oneshot canonverse (smutty)

contents of part two

oneshot canonverse (smutless)

AUs

rpf

🍊 marks my favorites

s1 fix-its:

Hell or High Water by Mottlemoth 149k WIP E 🍊 🍊 🍊

For a year now, Stede Bonnet has pursued the legendary pirate Blackbeard across the sea. Desperate for a chance to put things right, Stede will stop at nothing to catch up with the Revenge and its new captain.

But who will he encounter on Ocracoke Island: the man he loves, or a monster?

Half agony, half hope by lyricl 34k E 🍊

The first letter appeared only a few weeks after Stede left him alone on that beach. Ed burnt the first, and the second, and the third. But they kept coming.

Or: how Edward Teach gained a pen pal, lost a first mate, reunited with an old friend, and learned something about seagulls.

the knife and the throat by darcylindbergh 35k WIP E 🍊

Blackbeard hadn’t been lying when he’d said he didn’t feel fear. Fear was about having something to lose, and Blackbeard always wins.

Aftercare by perkynurples 132k WIP E 🍊

In the aftermath of some life-altering decisions on both sides, Edward and Stede navigate reuniting, learning what it is that they really want and how to ask for it, as well as surviving in a world that is nowhere near ready to just let them rest. Or, finding their way back to each other is only the very beginning.

we were warnings by mia_ugly 13k E

Stede comes back.

Ed does too. It just takes a little longer.

on the bed of this blue ocean by kirkaut 9.6k T

Ed’s made up his mind: if he ever lays eyes on Stede fucking Bonnet again, he’s a dead man.

Ed’s had six months of Stedeless-ness, and six months of thinking about all the terrible things he’d do to him when they saw each other again.

Somehow, it never occurred to him to think that they’d never have the chance.

[Or: Ed hears about Stede's 'death' and promptly falls apart.]

Take Me With You (When You Go) by SleepsWithCoyotes 11k T

The guard posted on their barracks gives Ed a weird look as he sneaks back in that night, almost like he wants to bolt.  It’s not entirely unexpected–though the rest of these idiots may think he’s tamed, this one has sound cause to think differently–but the back of his neck prickles a warning at that look of terror all the same.

There isn’t much he needs to collect, and he’d packed most of it up before leaving to acquire a dinghy.  No sense being weighed down with obvious proof he means to escape.  Stede’s bunk is already empty, of course, the man himself led off by the guard outside half an hour before, but this is Stede.  Best if Ed checks for himself to be sure he didn’t leave behind anything important.

Like his stockings.  And his shoes.   And every fucking thing else save the piss-poor clothes the quartermaster gave him.  What the entire fuck?

A Gentleman's Guide To Love And Piracy by laiqualaurelote 4.3k WIP T

Stede Bonnet's agenda for attending the International Piracy Convention: rebrand, make some industry contacts, steal back his ship without being murdered by the keynote speaker, a.k.a. the vengeful love of his life.

i won’t be falling on my knees to beg you by Hymn 8.8k E (+ sequel)

“You made your choice,” Edward insists. “You don’t get to unmake it, Stede. What’s done is done, don’t you know?”

“Ah. I learned that lesson rather recently, yes,” Stede says, very softly.

The expression on his face isn’t fair, Ed thinks. It hurts to look at, all soft and yearning and difficult to resist. The kind of look that makes him angry because of how it also makes him weak. Ed clears his throat, twitches again. Locks his knees tight and clamps his jaw shut, glaring at Stede. The ship keeps sinking beneath them.

“What I also learned,” Stede murmurs, shifting his weight forward. His empty hand comes up, palm open and reaching. “Is that I can be brave. I can be stubborn. I can fight for the life that I want so very, very badly, Edward Teach.”

Ed’s mouth dries. “Y-yeah? And what’s that?”

Stede smiles crookedly. “You.”

i’m yours, you know by ShowMeAHero 9k T

“I think I’ve fucked up,” Stede confesses.

“Yeah,” Lucius tells him, “but don’t take it too hard. I might’ve fucked up, too, if somebody dragged me out of bed to tell me I’d ruined their family, and my own, and destroyed the love of my life’s entire legacy, and then, like— blew their own whole fucking head off. Like, that— I get that, Cap’n. That makes sense.”

Stede nods, keeping his eyes forward. After a beat, he can’t maintain the calm, and he needs the human connection, turning back to look at Lucius. He actually spills over, then, eyes burning.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Lucius comments, but Stede is already carefully standing up so he can bend and hug Lucius without capsizing their vessel.

heartless by Nanashi07 4.8k T 🍊

Izzy scoffs.  “He just doesn’t learn, does he?  Tell him Blackbeard has no use for apologies.”

“Yeah,” Edward says.  “That’s true.  I don’t.  But also, unrelated to that other thing, what else did he say about me?”

Frenchie blinks.  “Um.  Nothing?  The message came tied to a seagull’s leg so.  You know.  Not much real estate on those little papers.  Can’t write a lot, can you?”  He straightens suddenly.  “Oh, I still have it!”

He fishes a crumpled, wind-dampened piece of paper from his pocket and drops it into Edward’s hand.  When Edward unfurls it, he sees only a series of poorly-drawn images: The Revenge with a little triangle sail, a rope ladder and an arrow, a caricature of Stede looking like he’s crying.

“We really need to teach you guys how to read,” Edward notes.

i don’t know anything (but i know i miss you) by ShowMeAHero 7k

“What the hell’s happened to you?” Stede demands. It’s his voice, in his body, and he almost seems living, and it’s— It has to be the last thing Ed ever sees. He has to die with him burned on the insides of his eyelids.

Stede’s eyes are tracking over him, rising up to meet his eyes, locking with him. It feels so real. He can’t help the hysterical laugh that comes up and out of him, impossibly grateful for this last delusion.

Without hesitating, he lurches forward, grabbing Stede and yanking him into his arms. Stede makes a confused noise of protest, briefly, but it fades instantly and his arms come up, too, wrapping around Ed without hesitation. He doesn’t smell the same; instead, he’s all salt and sweat and sun, baked into his skin. Ed buries his face in his hair, fingers clawing at the impossibly real feel of him, the hallucination made solid in his arms.

“Thank fuck,” Ed says into his hair, voice breaking. “I didn’t want to die without seeing you one last time.”

a mile of clean sand by Dialects_and_Costumes 3.8k E

It's an accident when Stede finds Ed again.

remissionem by eldritchIdeologist 7.5k G

"Swear it." Ed's voice is a low gravel-growl, heavy with emotion. Stede swallows. Nods. "Swear it to me, Stede."

He doesn't need to ask what it is.

"I swear, Ed," he says, quick-hushed between them, his hands finding their way to Ed's neck, silk against his jaw. Anchoring him there. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying. I'll stay. There is nothing I want more."

"Again." A press against his forehead, Stede's eyes screwing shut.

"I swear it. On anything you want me to, Ed, on my life, I swear it."

Silence in the brig. Ed and his breath coming heavy through his nose, Stede and his breath near-stopped, in waiting. In some desperate, debilitating hope, that he can grab onto this only thing he covets and hold onto it forever.

"...Okay," says Ed after an eternity, quiet as anything. “Okay.”

Message in a Marmalade Jar by stitchy 11k T

I don’t know who will find this, if anybody. Who would even understand it, as Captain Bonnet is long gone?

The crew of the Revenge find a message in a marmalade jar.

Our "Get-Along" Desert Island by Avelera 10k T

Stede and Ed "Blackbeard" Teach have been fighting ever since Stede got back to sea, which would be fine and not totally unexpected after the "breakup", except their fighting now involves full-blown naval battles and their respective crews are thoroughly sick of it.

Naturally, the only solution is to maroon the two of them on a desert island until they work it out or kill each other. Whichever comes first.

He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven by AuntieClimactic 14.5k E

“Here we go again,” he heard Lucius scream over Izzy’s furious cursing.

50 Ways to Kill Your Lover by trinityofone 2.3k E

In his quest to get himself free, Ed begins a list of ways to do away with Stede:

 1. Stabbing

 2. Harder stabbing

It gets much worse, and then much better, from there.

only got one life by louciferish 4.6k T

Blackbeard pops the cork from the bottle with his thumb and takes a swig, letting the fire of the rum course through his chest, his veins, and keeps his eyes fixed on the horizon. The salt water breeze carries a hint of lavender.

C’mon, then, he thinks, smiling out at the sparkling sea. Chase me.

Stede writes love letters in smoke, blood, and wreckage. That's a language Blackbeard is fluent in, but that doesn't mean he's going to make it easy.

you should be so happy now by waveridden 7.6k T

In a way, Mary supposes she’s lucky that it only takes one day for the pirates to attack her ship.

(Blackbeard takes a hostage, Mary takes some risks, and Stede takes everyone by surprise.)

Important Bits by perkynurples 3.2k M

The first ship they raid, her crew see the amended flag, incorrectly identify it as a lookalike and thus let Blackbeard approach with little more than open curiosity - far too late do they see him standing on the deck, just him and the smoke and the roaring, hungry gleam of fire at his fingertips.  

The second ship even goes so far as to fire at them first, some young upstart of a  barely-pirate captain or other, and Blackbeard takes special pleasure in sinking that one, the Kraken unleashed, wood splintering and entire lives disappearing down the depths.  

The news spread fairly fast after that.

Or, there's Blackbeard, and then there's the Kraken. There's very little in between.

Entirely Onboard by twoseas 4.8k T

Stede and his brigade of imbeciles row back to the Revenge. Ed doesn’t want to hear what Stede has to say. He doesn’t!

He does.

Featuring Ed and Stede as the pirate equivalent of the couple that loudly airs their personal business while one of them is on the ground floor and the other is at a second story window, the crew being The Crew, and dramatic reactions to earnest declarations.

i'll walk through walls into your heart by Hymn 3.8k T

“So like. Can I talk about emotions now, or are you still trying to do that repressed, macho man thing and act like leather and grease on your face is an actual coping mechanism?”

Ed flings his knife into the door of the auxiliary closet where Lucius hides.

cotton, silk, linen, velvet  by captainbonny 5.4k M

It’s all gone.

Everything but the auxiliary wardrobe.

Two Graves by trinityofone 1.3k M (note: not really a fixit; features an angsty but beautiful ending)

Stede had once nurtured fantasies, not then fully understood, of dressing Ed again in his clothes.

things to never give the devil by Fahye 15k T 🍊

"Dark Fate?" says Stede, making sure to pronounce the capitals.

"Very effective for star-crossed lovers. And at a bargain price, if I do say so myself. A potent mixture of unspeakably rare ingredients, brewed under a new moon, which will drag you through the depths of your own soul in search of difficult truths, and leave the undeserving to drift forever in a dreamscape of torment and emotional agony!"

"What?" says Stede. "No! That sounds awful!"

fear not the weather by dotsayers 7.5k T

The moon shone through the tree canopy, a break in the clouds as rain continued to pour.

A footprint, rust-red against the earth, gleamed.

“Stede, mate,” he said, as he looked up and saw the line of prints disappearing into the trees. “What the absolute fuck.”

(A rainstorm stops Ed from leaving.)

Always and Forever by stereobone 9.8k E

"There's something you should know," Spanish Jackie says. "You're married."

Ed freezes.

"I beg your pardon," Stede says helpfully. "But I'm not your 19th husband."

"No, you idiots. You're married to each other."

habituation by chinxe 4k T

It takes Ed an embarrassingly long time to realise he's being romanced.

If you love someone by Yuu_chi  13.7k T 🍊

Edward's already lost him once. He won't make the same mistake again.

Blackbeard takes a prisoner. Or he would, if Stede would only act like one.

Magnolia by Fyre 5.2k E

Blackbeard crouched down in front of him, that stupid bright sunshine face still the fucking same, eyes wide and round, as if he had no idea of the monster in front of him. As if he had nothing to be fucking afraid of. Stupid fucking idiot. He brought up his knife, the tip of it pressing under the bastard’s chin, tipping his head up.

To Be Alone With You by Springandastorm 5.5k M

The first time Stede touches Ed again, he feels a bit like he’s been scalded. He has Stede pinned against the wooden railing of the ship, his knife to his throat, but Stede doesn’t look scared, just blinks at him with wide, apologetic eyes and says “I missed you.” Ed feels himself soften despite himself, the burning coals in his gaze shifting, almost going out, and that’s all it takes for Stede to smile, to lift a hand to his cheek. “There he is.” He says, an echo of Izzy’s words that cuts far deeper than it did when he said it.

Break down, it's alright by rowenablade 3.2k E

“Give me a reason not to carve your heart out,” Ed whispers.

And Stede can’t think of one.

He can think of plenty of reasons he doesn’t want his heart carved out, but how could he expect any of them to matter to Ed?

“Stede.” Ed’s voice breaks, dragging Stede’s eyes back up from where they’ve been staring at the floor in shame. “Please.”

There'll Be Nobody Home by soft_october 4.4k T

“Hey. You're Lucius, right?” The voice sighed. “Someone else sound this charming?” “Lucius, you’re dead.” “Yeah. Yeah, I am dead. No thanks to you.” “I pushed you off the boat.” “Mmm - I was there. I know.” “Was there any pain?”

Drunk and lonely and hiding in the auxiliary closet, Blackbeard has begun hearing voices. Well, a voice. He entertains it. Even tells it about some of the feelings he's been going through. What's the harm?

And after all, he's got no one else to talk to.

and let the souls wander by one_more_page 4.3k T

In the gold of the single candle Edward looked near divine.

Stede set to work. It was easier than thinking about what was happening. Because if he thought too much about what was happening his lungs were going to swell with that heat that had been building ever since he returned.

If he thought about it too much he would realize this was the closest he’d come to worship in ages.

—

OR

Stede washes Ed’s hair.

Semaphore by komodobits 39k WIP E

Talking things through as a crew is easier said than done, and honest communication has never really been Stede’s strong suit. When it comes to Ed, he is willing to try.

False Dichotomies by BigTed 4.1k E

It’d be simple, wouldn’t it, to put everything he doesn’t like about Ed in a little box marked ‘Blackbeard’ and insist he throw it overboard like so many books? 

shades of blue and gray by ThirtySixSaveFiles 1.7k T

Ed and Stede get locked in a closet. Twice.

be still my foolish heart, don’t ruin this on me by Hymn 3.3k T

“I should have run away with you,” Stede says once, the two of them up in the crow’s nest sharing breakfast.

haunt me, then by hyruling 28k E

He releases the ropes slowly, barely registering the burn as they slip through his fingers. Then, fallible as Orpheus, turns to meet his ghost.

Buttercup by mia_ugly 13.8k E 🍊

The thing is, when you’re Blackbeard you’ve got kind of a reputation to uphold. When you captain a ship, when you lead a crew, when people look up to you, tell stories, build a legend – parts of that legend are always more accurate than others.

And maybe you just let it slide, some of the things people say. Some of the things they assume. Maybe you swagger around and wear black leather and are a handsy bastard and let the stories tell themselves.

Maybe you don't want to talk about it.

night shift by foxtails 6.5k M

The man gripping on to Ed’s arm like a lifeline has wind matted hair, a rough jaw, and fingernails blackened with dirt. He’s no longer the same person Ed laid on a dock and waited an entire night for.

He doesn’t know whether to laugh, or cry.

or: Stede and his crew return to the Revenge. Ed isn't quite ready to deal with that.

all you left me was a pearl by JustStandingHere 32k WIP M 🍊

Stede takes in a deep breath and smiles. “Ed, I–” he says, but that’s as far as he gets before Ed’s pulling the gun out of its holster.

He aims, and Stede manages to yelp and duck just in the nick of time. The wood behind him splinters. “Fucking hell!” he yells, and springs back up into standing position. He takes a second to mourn the scarred wood before turning to Ed. “I know I cocked things up, but there’s no need to be dramatic!”

1717. The Golden Age of Piracy. Stede Bonnet sets about wooing the love of his life through any means necessary. Things do not go as planned.

All I Am Is Holding Breath by smallestchurch 7.3k E

“Edward. I didn’t leave because you kissed me. I came back because you kissed me.  And I’m hoping you’ll do it again.”

stories we’ve heard, and others we tell ourselves by CrypticSymbol 14.8k T

“One calling card and you come running, is that it?” Izzy had asked, disgust oozing from his voice. Ed noted a hint of disappointment too. He just couldn’t help himself from doing so, it seemed. The renewed adoration that bled out of Izzy just months before had been cauterized.

And it had been more than one calling card, to be fair. Though there was no point in arguing semantics with Izzy Hands.

The previous mysterious parcels had been trinkets and gifts left waiting for him to find, like the least challenging treasure hunt in the history of piracy, but this last one was different.

or, Jeff the Accountant is invited to a masquerade ball, and sometimes it's easier to talk things through when you're Jeff and he's Godfrey Thornrose.

The Blackest Water, the Better Mirror by triedunture 13k E 🍊

Ed isn't sleeping well.

Or: an excuse to have many long naps in the (formerly) great cabin.

COLDBLOODED by Macremae 7.4k M  🍊

 STEDE: What was that?

 BEAT.

 ED: What?

 STEDE: Where did you just go?

 ED: (less grounded) What?

 STEDE: You just… went somewhere.

This is a love story. Just not the kind he's used to.

How Edward Got His Groove Back by MadHatter13 43k WIP M

‘Oh shit,’ says the ghost standing by the cabin’s desk, frantically shoving the food Blackbeard had let grow cold on the plate into his mouth. His voice is a bit muffled, because he’s chewing on a piece of slightly stale bread like a hamster. He tries to say something like, ‘You’re supposed to be fucking dead,’ but all he can mumble out, inebriated as he is, is ‘Wzzsdghlkjd?’ - Or, Blackbeard dove head-first into the wrong genre. Let's see if Ed can't find his way back to Comedy.

Above Board by chaya 29k WIP E 🍊

The first time, they don't even have sex.

Stede has just come aboard with Oluwande and the others. Lucius pops out from somewhere, looking haggard but firm, and close behind him is Jim, so that's nearly everyone accounted for.

And peering around the bare light of the deck... the strangest thing to Stede is that Izzy doesn't seem to look once toward the captain's quarters. Neither do his two cronies. Somehow they know that in spite of the initial shouting and stern voices before peace was settled, the captain is not going to make a showing.

Kiss With A Fist by suchgreatheights 16.9k E

Ed knows a fuckery when he hears about one. No death that ridiculous could have been a coincidence.

He leaves Stede a trail of breadcrumbs to get back to The Revenge. When Stede arrives back on board, Ed is surprised to find Stede has a bone to pick with him--and that Ed's got bones of his own to pick with Stede.

love does not compel, no, it converts me by lie_to_me 9.5k E (rape/noncon trigger warning)

Now, naked and intricately bound to the mast, he tries to ignore the way fear quickens his heartbeat. Clearly Ed is angry. This is a game, he tells himself, some kind of fuckery. He can still show Ed his remorse, explain his feelings and his cowardice, and Ed will, eventually, understand.

Ed is, after all, a kind man.

But the man he loves approaches him with a leer, and Stede sees only cruelty in his eyes.

--

Or: Stede goes to find Ed, but first he meets the Kraken. Eventually, he gets through to Ed and they reconcile.

weather the storm by one_more_page 10k E  🍊

Ed runs, Stede follows. Ed stabs Stede, Stede comes back. They duel, they fight, they talk, no matter the encounter Ed wakes the next day with Stede's ship just on the horizon.

He’s being haunted by Stede Bonnet.

—

OR

Ed wakes up on the day Stede comes back over and over and over again.

multichapter canonverse:

Wayfaring by Justkeeptrekkin 34k E 🍊

The downside to being stuck on a desert island is that Stede's not awfully good at adapting. The upside is that he and Ed can finally have some peace and quiet– that is, if Ed ever wakes up from the gunshot wound in his stomach.

Stranded in the middle of who-knows-where, Stede learns the art of reflection and how to embrace the man who looks back.

domestic by Ark 33k E 🍊

Stede finds the house. When he comes back to their room at the inn, he won’t rest—won’t let Ed rest—until Ed’s seen it. His eyes are bright in that way that makes Ed’s guts feel scooped out with a spoon. So Ed hurries into his boots and goes with him.

The once-white paint is stripped by weather and wear, a portion of the roof is caved in, and the spokes of the wraparound porch are all gnawed through by animals.

Ed gazes up at the broken windows and the birds that have built nests there. At his side, Stede is waiting, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“It’s perfect,” says Ed.

to carry home inside me by ShowMeAHero 14k T 🍊

In the Last Year, 1718, the Seas Witnessed the Deaths of Two of the Worst Menaces to Sail. The Pirates Edward Teach, commonly Known as Blackbeard, and Stede Bonnet, also the Gentleman Pirate, once Captained Together before the ultimate Capture of Bonnet in October. By November, the dread Blackbeard was Killed in Battle; not a Month after, the Gentleman Pirate was Hanged for his Crimes at Charles Town. His Majesty the King ends this Curse of Piracy by Sending these Devils back to Hell.

Or not.

Blackheart by angelsunaware 36k WIP E

Blackbeard has decided it is time for him to take a wife, but he finds something else instead.

Chiaroscuro by MenaceAnon 19k WIP T

The Widow Mary Bonnet has a life, and Stede Bonnet isn't part of it. They agreed. There was a leopard and everything.

Then again, Stede has a talent for disrupting plans—for instance, by turning up on your doorstep in the dead of night with a bleeding pirate who turns out to be his beloved Ed.

kissing is what lovers do (and we're not lovers) by afterism 22k E

A vaguely canon-compliant friends-with-benefits scenario where they've been having sex since episode five but still don't kiss until episode nine, because they're both idiots who don't talk it through as a crew.

a very good bad thing by seularen 14k E

“Unhand him,” Stede said. “Or what?” “Good point. I can’t say ‘or bleed.’ You’re going to do that already.”

(prompt fill for the OFMD kink meme: "you know ‘Unhand me or bleed” knife!Stede? I want to see that guy coming to Ed’s rescue when he’s in peril. Bonus points if he takes bloody vengeance or needs to be talked down from it.”)

First, we steal a priest by Elisahni 15k WIP M

“I just want it to be said, by someone,” said Lucius, “that grave robbing is very 1500s.”

“We’re not digging one up,” said Ed, “I’m not that barbaric! We’ll want a live one. We’re going to steal a priest from a church.”

“Ed,” said Stede, scandalised. “That’s kidnapping!”

“I guess it is. Okay, we’re going on a treasure hunt to kidnap a priest. That’s the plan.”

though quaking, though crazy by ShowMeAHero 17k M

Stede knows from experience, from a sword piercing his side for far too long, how it feels when your skin starts trying to heal around a blade, when you know you’re going to have to tear it open again, when its only crime was just wanting to save you.

And maybe Stede isn’t some nightmare pirate, and maybe he’s not the vision that Blackbeard inspires, and maybe he’s not scary. Maybe he’s not made of smoke, with glowing eyes; maybe he’s not a hero, or a villain, or anyone but some poor shit who thinks he knows what he’s doing when nobody really ever knows.

But he knows two things: he knows that he will kill for Ed; and he knows that this man knows that, too.

Tomorrow, Certainly by Anonymous_Ostrich 11.5k WIP M

Stede opened the door with enough gusto that it struck the wall with an urgent thud. Ed - who was busy pilfering through the drawers and cabinets of a large cedar desk - glanced up in mild alarm, like he was expecting bad news. Stede sucked in a deep breath through his nose.

“Ed,” he began with all the authority and courage he could muster, “I’d like to do sex, ah, things, with - with you.” Perhaps that could have been a fair bit more eloquent, but alas.

the lovers, the dreamers, and me by ShowMeAHero 63k E

Stede spreads his hands in front of him, and Louis and Alma both grin up at him. “Do you remember the stories I used to tell you about those fearsome pirates who lived out at sea? And, remember how I told you I went on adventures with Blackbeard? Well—”

“Mom already told us you married Blackbeard,” Alma cuts him off, taking— Well, taking the wind right out of his sails, as it were.

“Alma,” Mary hisses at her. “Don’t interrupt y—”

“No, no, that’s fine, it’s— It’s fine, really,” Stede says. “I was— I was, admittedly, a little excited to tell you, but— That’s fine, honestly, we—”

“No, no, do it anyway,” Mary encourages him.

or: louis, alma, mary, and doug spend four days and three nights aboard the revenge, stede's families become one, and his entire heart combusts in the process.

Hello, My Old Heart by LadyKyrin 26k WIP M

In the span of a single second, or maybe even just a half-second, three things happened:

A gun went off.

Ed’s blade sliced deep into Chauncey’s throat.

And Stede screamed Ed’s name.

~

Ed comes looking for Stede when he doesn't show up at the dock. When Chauncey shoots Ed, Stede has no choice but to take him to the one place where there's actually a chance they might not be immediately killed or captured: the house he once shared with Mary, Alma, and Louis.

Working Vacation by MenaceAnon 2.1k WIP T

Captain Richard Bryce is going to make a name for himself as a pirate.

His plan? Kidnap the Gentleman Pirate, and use him to get close enough to assassinate Blackbeard.

And so Richard and his crew steal the pretty beardless fellow wearing a fussy banyan straight out of Blackbeard’s bed.

(Ed has never been an honest-to-god damsel in distress before. He’s going to go ahead and consider this a vacation.)

Come Here, Dressed in Black Now by jessclare 13k E  

“I never thought I’d end up being the woman in bed,” Stede says suddenly.

Stede has issues to work through.

An Even Trade by BewareTheIdes15 30k E 🍊

It’s “doesn’t mean a thing,” that gets Ed into trouble. Because, turns out, it means a fucking a lot.

Crossing the Meridian by stitchy 40k E

“Would you like me to pick you up anything special for the crossing?” Stede checks.

“Oh, I dunno. You know what I like,” Ed grins.

Me, it’s me, it’s me! Stede’s heart rejoices. He can’t go wrong with such wind beneath his wings.

“I’ll have to see if I can find a treat for when you get bored at sea,” he tells Ed. “Something to keep you occupied.”

-

Quite simply, Stede and Ed "romance" their way across an ocean.

Stuff of Kings by wordaddiction 13k WIP M

“Your name. I thought you might tell me your name.”

Brown eyes flicker between Stede’s, and he thinks it might have worked, stall though it may be, until the man’s mouth curls.

“Nah. Think I like you this way. Something I know that you don’t - guess books aren't everything.” He smiles, truly smiles, and Stede might think him handsome if he weren’t pushing a knife to his throat. Well. Maybe even then.

________________________

or: Ed boards the docked Revenge, expecting to find it empty and ready for raiding. It is decidedly not.

Shoals of Gold by blacksaltseas 15k E

And so, they lay above the moon-soaked sea and looked towards the heavens.

The time passed like honey, slow and sweet.

-

Two co-captains navigate falling in love on the high seas. There’s not much else to do when the wind stops blowing.

Healing Trauma with the Power of Gay Love! by                    the_bedheaded_league (giantflyingskelesnurtle) 13k E

Stede doesn't like sex. At least, he thinks he doesn't, because he's never had sex with someone he's actually attracted to before. Ed very patiently teaches him that sex can actually be enjoyable. There is crying. Bon apetit.

he's never gonna make it by muadnait 32k WIP M

Stede would admit to reading a book or two about pirates, but no literature could have prepared him for an actual face to face encounter with said people.

__

Stede Bonnet, wealthy landowner, held hostage by pirates.

Penetrative Gays by Fyre 13k E

“You’re coming with me.” “What? Why?” “Because I stabbed you!” Stede exclaimed, stooping to pull Ed’s arm more securely over his shoulder. “I can’t just… leave you. You have a hole through you!” 

-

The poor bastard was still pinned to the mast like a nail in a board and gave Ed a weak little wave, his face shiny and pale. “Lucius has gone to get someone to get me down,” he said, as if he didn’t have a fucking sword sticking out his chest. 

keep us together by novaeangliae 63k WIP T 🍊

A young Stede's desire for adventure is fuelled when he meets Ed, a boy from the docks who appreciates Stede for his true nature. Only their upbringings come with a ceaseless pressure to conform, and the two must navigate growing up in different worlds. Even with the difficulties posed by their lifestyles, it still comes as a surprise when their paths cross again upon the deck of a Spanish warship.

They always find their way back to each other.

What Wound Did Ever Heal But By Degrees? by poading 15k M

The first time is quick. Ed has been thinking about it for weeks, kissing Stede Bonnet. It is the sort of thing he wants to do right. Though Stede’s never mentioned it in any of their lessons, Ed is certain there is a right way to go about kissing a gentleman. He must wait for the right time, the right place.

But when he finally does it, Ed doesn’t think at all. He is only instinct and hope tangled in a moment where breath is forgotten and the future seems possible.

OR: Five times Ed kisses Stede and one time Stede kisses Ed

oneshot canonverse (smutty):

Bit of a Clothes Horse by Aivelin, Fyre 9k E 🍊

Stede tossed down the invitation card on the couch. “On the contrary!” He scrambled to his feet. “You’re not wearing anything that beastly man owned. You deserve something far better, especially for your first time out. If we’re going to a party, you’re getting all the luxury you deserve.”

when you love it by mia_ugly 5.7k E

Stede’s being kissed before the door fully clicks shut behind him.

Close Quarters by FortinbrasFTW 4.2k E

“The fuck?” Ed manages, instantly getting his foot stuck in a nearby bucket.

“Sh-shh!” Stede pushes two fingers against his lips to shut him up.

Ed goes still and a bit cross-eyed, staring down at the hand on his mouth. Stede moves it away, with a mouthed “sorry!” focusing intently on the sounds outside the shed instead.

In the alley, hurried steps and shouting voices rush past; they catch fragments of: “Where the fuck did they go then?” or “Keep looking!” and even “The short one looks like a bloody birthday cake, how do you lose that—”

in the emerald green by darcylindbergh 3k E 🍊

And Stede likes Ed, here and now, with the fresh smell of the wind and the salt in his hair, stripped down to nothing but an emerald green banyan and the ink in his skin, climbing back into the bed.

we've only just begun by ShowMeAHero 22k E

“Happy anniversary,” Ed tells him. He’s got a smile, but he still seems nervous, and Stede absolutely cannot have that.

and let your hair hang down by Ark 3.1k E

Stede exhales, warm breath stirring Ed's hair. "Again?"

"Stede," says Ed, "I'd sit on your cock all day for a chair and captain the ship like that if the option was available."

in the dark and blue by focusfixated 3.7k E

“What’s this?” Ed says, and tilts the mug towards his eyeline. He’s been doing a good job, so far, of looking everywhere except at Stede.

“Tea in its natural state,” Stede says. “You don’t have to drink it. I didn’t really ask you here for tea.”

Ed hunches like a child, but his hair and stubble is grey as a silverfish. He sounds as bitter as the tea when he says, “What did you really ask me here for, then?”

Or: After Stede comes back to Edward, they both look for forgiveness, and relief.

so good for him by leaveanote 3.7k E

Ed still isn’t used to being vulnerable. But Stede’s praise unlocks a part of him he didn’t know he had.

And fuck, it feels good.

Starcharts by triedunture 8.7k E 🍊

“Do you think I could help in some way?” he asks.

Ed glances at him. “Like how?”

“I don’t know. You seemed to enjoy our little gag of trading places that one time.” Stede shrugs a shoulder. He’s wearing his pink satin waistcoat and matching breeches, no overcoat—too fucking humid tonight. Ed can see the shape of his arm through the thin linen of his shirt. “What if you pretend you’re the one who isn’t in charge, and I can pretend I’m the one who is. That would be fun, wouldn’t it?” 

Under your skin, over the moon by por_queeee 7.7k E

“You’ve never been anything but–perfectly considerate, my love,” Stede manages weakly, staring straight up at the ceiling, flexing a hand in Ed’s hair. Ed can be impatient in bed, erratic, firm and greedy in his touches, but he’s always asked Stede from the first– Is this ok? Like this? Is it good? Am I hurting you?  

“You’ve never hurt me, or…” His cheeks pinken slightly, “Well, beyond what I imagine is the normal amount of soreness the day after, of course, but…”  

Ed grunts, and scrapes his teeth over the bone of Stede’s jaw in a way that makes him gasp and brings him right back to himself. Ed seems to freeze at the noise, fingers digging shakily into Stede’s hip. “But what if I wanted to?”

the taste of you by jaskiers 5k E

The first time they fall into bed together doesn’t go quite the way Stede had imagined it would.

Rough Winds Do Shake by HeckinaHandbasket 4.1k E

He returned with the book, tapping it on Ed’s leg as he reclaimed his seat in the chair. “I’ve always been rather partial to a sonnet, myself. Though they’ve often left me feeling somewhat melancholy.”

They’d often left him filled with longing, left him feeling empty, and strange, as if he were missing something vital to the human experience. He loved them, still. Pain was the price of beauty, after all.

Stede glanced up at Ed, smiling at the effortlessly lovely picture he made, backlit by a dozen candles. “Although, I wonder, now, if it might be different.”

Ed shifted on the arm of the chair, throwing his own arm over Stede’s shoulders to peer at the book. “Different, how?”

Without thinking, Stede bumped his forehead against Ed’s shoulder, joyful honesty bubbling out of him like seafoam. “Well, with you, of course. Everything is different with you.”

A deep, thoughtful line appeared between Ed’s brows as he examined Stede’s face. “Is it?”

Dance Me to the End of Love by stereobone 3.7k E

“I should teach you the waltz,” Stede says. “After all, if you’re going to know the ways of the aristocracy, you should at least have that under your cap.”

“The waltz?” Ed says. “Like a…like fucking dancing?”

“Exactly like fucking dancing,” Stede says. 

a laughing matter by mxwicked (SpacemanSpiff7) 6.4k E 🍊

Stede’s never laughed during sex before. Hell, he’s barely even smiled. So when Edward can’t stop giggling during their first time, he’s not really sure what to think.

good game by captainbonny 3.4k E 🍊

in which Ed is (probably canonically!!) sleeping on Stede’s couch, and late night sleepover antics ensue. 

Still Waters by Phoenix_Soar 5.4k E

Did people kiss like this? This often? Oh of course they must, not everyone shared his own stilted experiences with intimacy...

Canon-divergent ending to Episode 9 — in which Stede discovers just how touch-starved he's been, while Ed takes full advantage of his first chance to be gentle with someone.

The Biblical Sense by Fyre 2.5k E

“Wh-what’s this?” Stede managed in a strangled croak.

Ed’s eyes creased around the edges. Smiling. One could always tell by them, even if his beard and moustache and everything else hid his mouth. “I know you’re a bit new to the whole… seaman thing,” he said with that rumble of amusement in his voice, “but I thought even you’d recognise a come on when you saw one.”

every morning the world by treescape 1.1k E

“Now there’s nothing to put the marmalade on,” Stede sighs. He stares morosely at the jar that Ed’s holding in one hand, and then lifts his gaze to Ed’s face.

Ed raises both eyebrows in response. “Oh, well, I wouldn’t go that far,” he protests, hefting the jar thoughtfully for a moment. The movement makes Stede’s favourite robe shift a little where it drapes over Ed’s shoulders, revealing another inch of chest.

Or, breakfast in bed doesn't go exactly as planned, but that's okay.

Trick by Desdemon 4.2k E

Stede teaches Ed how to play piquet.

peccadilloes by Badgerette 2.1k T

”Then, what kind of passions do you enjoy in private? Don’t tell me there’s some erotic scribblings hidden in that insane collection of kindling?”

A beat, within which Stede takes a sip of his remaining port.

”You’ve got some fucking raunchy books up there, haven’t you?”

I will own my lover's heart and soul by songlin 2.7k T

Edward Teach considers himself a connoisseur of captors. Without a doubt, Stede Bonnet is his favorite.

spattered colours of ecstatic light by thesoulundone 2.8k E

It's Stede's turn to stare incredulously at him. Ed notices, somewhere in the back of his brain, that he refrains from being smug about it. "You mean you don't-"

"Of course not," Ed breaks in, awkward. "It's - immoral."

"You're a pirate," Stede says, pointed.

"Yeah, but that's different," Ed says, surly.

Silk Touch by NaroMoreau 2.5k E

After a pillaging, Stede finds Ed wearing a dress and shows him exactly how much he appreciates the sight.

Practice Makes Perfect by cracktheglasses (cormallen) 4.3k E

“Lucius said I could practice on a banana, only we haven’t got any on board,” Stede says, and the words take a moment to coalesce into meaning. Ed blinks, shakes his head — a banana, for fuck’s sake, he’s jealous of a banana, get it together, old man — reaches over, and plucks the book from Stede’s grasp.  

“Relax. Forget — practice. Forget the book. I’ll talk you through it. When have I ever taught you badly?”

built for luxury by emmett 9.2k E

"Congrats," Ed says, once Stede lowers the mirror. "You've just successfully tied up your first person like a proper pirate. Didn't even take you that long."

"Yes, well," Stede says, blushing a little at the praise and moving to start untying the ropes, "I had an awfully good teacher. Very patient with me."

In which Ed shows Stede the ropes, if you know what I mean.

For a Scoundrel is a Wanted Man by stitchy 4.1k E 🍊

“Well!” Stede smiles and sets down his glass for now, so he can give Ed’s cheek an appreciative rub. “It’s nice to be nice, isn’t it?”

Ed rolls his eyes, but leans into the contact. “Yeah, but don't tell anyone I said so.” He covers Stede’s hand with his own, fingering the lace upon it. “I do have a reputation.”

“I won’t, I won’t! If you don’t tell anyone what a scoundrel I can be,” Stede chuckles.

“You, a scoundrel?” Ed smirks. “You'll have to remind me why, Stede. You haven’t done anything bastardly all day.“

Evening Light by entanglednow 1.9k M

In which there is a commotion, a rousing speech, and a full length nightgown.

Yes, And by triedunture 4.2k E

“And who are we tonight, my darling?” Stede asks once he gets Ed up against the sturdy wall of the auxiliary closet.

“Reckon you’re quite the fearsome pirate,” Ed says into the kiss, “and I’m a fancy lord of fuck-all who’s at your mercy.”

“Oooh, I do like that one.”

----

Ed and Stede try to stick to the script but they keep getting distracted.

You kissed me just to kiss me, not to make me cry by makesometime 3.7k E

“Ed?”

He’s getting distracted. It’s probably a defence or something, against worrying that he’s laying himself bare to someone who might just go and fuck it all up again and leave him, more heartbroken than before.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I’m here.”

'Cause if I love you (then I love you too much) by rowenablade 2.3k E

They’ve been sleeping together for three weeks, and Stede is hopelessly smitten with everything Ed does. He loves the way Ed sighs when he kicks his boots off and the way he can peel an orange with one hand and the way his hair gets in Stede’s mouth about a third of the time when they’re kissing. He’s amazed he hasn’t run the ship aground again, so hard it is to tear his eyes away from this wonder of a man.

the hung man by LogicalBookThief 4.9k M

"This is fucking Blackbeard we’re talking about, man. Maker of widows. Scourge of the seven seas." For not the first time, Black Pete regards him like an idiot. "What did you expect he'd be packing in his pants?"

we came untarnished by propinquitous 5.7k E

Edward finds that clothing can still leave you feeling naked.

The Dread Pirate Bonnet Shows No Mercy (Lord Jeff Doesn't Want Any, Thanks) by Dracothelizard 8k E

Ed throws the book on the floor in front of Stede. “What if I want to be ravished for a change? Ever think of that?”

Stede stares up at him, mouth open, then closes it, then he frowns in thought.

“That’s what I thought,” Ed mutters, shoulders sagging as he drops into one of the chairs.

Despite knowing the man behind the reputation, Stede still wants Blackbeard. Everyone does.

“I’m a pirate captain,” Stede says, picking the book from the floor and brushing some dirt from the cover.

“And?”

Stede smiles at him, cheeks still flushed. “I think that means I’m allowed to ravish you.”

You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real) by zemph147 4.7k E

Set after some vaguely-defined season two events where Stede proves his love to Ed, and they return together to The Revenge to finally get some time alone.

I just want them to be together, and in love, and having truly spectacular sex, so here we go.

Tonight, Tonight by samwise 8.2k E

Ed wakes Stede in the middle of the night, and Stede comes to the door in a translucent robe. Ed.exe has stopped working.

all of me is a prayer in perfect piety by princesapollobollo 5.1k E

"I've never really—" Stede pants, leaning back a bit from where Ed is pressing kisses to his mouth, hot and dazzling. "Well, I have, but not—"

"With a man?" Ed asks, looking up at him, and there's no judgment or mocking in his eyes, only a faint curiosity underneath all the intensity.

"With someone I was in love with," Stede says, curling a hand over Ed's cheek.

“Oh,” Ed says, even now still looking like Stede is showing him the wonders of the world every time he says that word. “Well, in that case I don’t have that much experience either.”

this kind of love has to be a verb by illimerence 2.9k E

More than anything else, Ed can’t understand why Stede came back. 

A Pirate's Reputation by chamyl 4.9k E 

After getting back together, Stede and Ed are having a perfectly lovely time co-captaining their ship and becoming more and more intimate. Until the day Stede discovers that, against all his assumptions, Ed has never had sex before, and begins to wonder why.

grand pianos clash together by audenrain 4.3k E

“And you aim to correct that, do you? You’re going to show me the ropes?” Stede says. It’s a funny thing, the atmosphere aboard a pirate ship. In many ways it’s done exactly what years of bullying and abuse never could: taught him to stand up for himself a little better, given him some rudimentary skill with a sword, and most importantly, given him a taste of how it feels to rise to a challenge. He feels that static charge in the air, now, for all that Ed’s body language is relaxed.

Ed is smiling, a little, behind the crystal edge of his glass. “I don’t think we should get ropes involved on your first time round,” he says.

As You Like It by kindofwriter 2.7k E 

Stede asks Ed what he likes, and Ed realises he's never really thought about it before. However he does find out Stede has thought about it A LOT.

tell me i'm what your hands were made for by apocryphalia 2.9k E

Ed is still wearing Stede’s cravat.

Sometimes, when they’re in bed, he peels back the leather surrounding it but leaves that little piece of silk in its place, a reminder of how far they've already come in their few short weeks together. Sometimes, he watches the black cloth sway against tan skin, against the scars darkening its surface and the faded ink beneath, in time with the rhythm of their bodies. Other times, he tosses it aside, the better to worship that skin.

This time, Stede has another idea.

Rum and Linen by scarrletmoon 5.5k E

Usually when Ed gets drunk, he crashes on the couch. This time, he doesn't.

be known in its aching by foxtails 4.6k E

Stede manages to be everywhere at once; his mouth pressed to the bird on Ed’s shoulder, his toes tracing the tattoo curving up his calf muscle, his fingers wrapped loosely around Ed’s wrist.

“I should quite like you immortalised in a portrait,” Stede murmurs against his skin. “Not Blackbeard, not the Dread Pyrate. You, Edward. Every inch of you, laid out beautifully like this.”

or: Edward Teach deserves nice things. Thankfully, that's where Stede comes in.

all that ever mattered was you by anthonyjcrowiey 2k E

Sometimes sex goes wrong, but that doesn't mean it has to be bad.

AKA: the one where Ed and Stede are getting old and they are absolutely feeling their age.

Sneak by whiskywrites 2k E

“Your helmsman is taking orders from a goddamn seagull, Stede,” Ed said. “And we are at his birdy mercy.”

you don't need to wonder by spelling__bee 4.6k E 🍊

It’s the only time he’s ever taken orders in his adult life, because with Stede they don’t feel like control or threats - they feel like love. He can always say no. Stede would stop the moment he asks. But knowing that, and asking for it anyway, settling in where he can trust Stede to call the shots for both of them? Well. Ed can’t think too much about it because he’ll get all misty and shit, but it’s strong stuff.

all day long (on the chaise longue) by attheborder 3.5k E

Adventures in interior design. 

Cabin Pressure by entanglednow 6.3k E 🍊

Contrary to Stede's insistence there was not enough space for two in the bed, not unless they wanted to get very close indeed.

Fancy by Aivelin, Fyre 7k E 🍊

When a Spanish prize yields a treasure trove of exquisite clothing, Stede can't resist the urge to indulge Ed's fondness for a fine fabric.

Of night and light and the half light by leupagus 2.1k M

What if for Reasons, they need someone to pretend to be a woman, and so the obvious choice is Stede (look, Jim just isn't very convincing) (Stede played the heroine three years running in the school play, of course he knows his way around a skirt) And Ed is very interested in this look. Very interested.

only the light moves by ThirtySixSaveFiles 2.3k E

Stede and Ed, and the slow morning after. Stede still has some things to say, and he’ll keep saying them until Ed can hear him.

Waiting on the Lightning by smallestchurch 8k E

They're co-captains now, sure, that's great and good, but... why is it making Stede so nervous?

this is a home we just don't have a door by newtkelly 7k E

“I just don’t get why Lucius would even propose such a thing.” He finishes tugging his nightgown over his head and sighs, slipping under the covers to join a nearly naked Ed. “I mean, it’s not as if I’m wedding some virginal bride who would blush at the mere contemplation of sharing a bed with a fellow!”

“Hey,” Ed says, feigning offense as he shuffles into Stede’s embrace, propping his head against Stede’s left shoulder. “Are you saying I’m easy, mate?”

june hymn by ripeteeth 3.1k E

“Tell me about this one,” he says. What he means is, where did it hurt?

Breakfast by scarrletmoon 2.6k E

A typical quiet morning between co-captains aboard The Revenge turns into a much spicier breakfast.

quand il me prend dans ses bras, qu’il me parle tout bas (je vois la vie en rose) by SilkAndLeather (SexyCoinkiDicks) 7.2k E

Ed appreciates his new morning routine, as well as Stede's more intimate finery.

Tender, playful Ed/Stede morning sex PWP. Works as a stand-alone but might have a follow-up.

Unhand Me or Bleed by scarrletmoon 4.2k E

Stede Bonnet has an  “unhand me or bleed” moment and Ed can't not fuck him.

i'm coming for you, babe (i'm nearly at your pace) by kirkaut 4.7k E 

Ed has been trying to be good.

He can’t necessarily say the same of Stede.

(Or: an exercise in self restraint, and the art of giving in)

Renewal by katonline 3.4k E

The fire is blazing cheerfully in the fancy as fuck fireplace in their cabin. It’s a ridiculous folly, it shouldn’t be there, but it is and it’s wonderful. It’s wet and dreary outside and it’s cozy and snug and perfect in here. The cabin is like a friend. The rain is indifferent, blind to their happiness. That’s - whatsit, fuck - ah. Right. That’s pathetic fallacy.

Stede taught him about pathetic fallacy.

Damn the Dark by Serendipity_Stupidity 15k E 🍊

“Feels good,” Ed told him, breathless. “Bliss - love, surrender, all of it - feels so good. Don’t you want to feel that?”

For a moment, all Stede could see was the red flesh of apples, the flickering tongue of a snake, the dark cloven hooves of the Devil. Between his legs, Ed looked like sin itself, with his stormy curls and soft mouth.

Gripping the edge, Stede’s hands trembled. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stede and Ed share a bath and work through Stede's inhibitions about being intimate.

World Enough and Time by MayGlenn 6.9k E

Five times Stede and Edward try to have sex and are comically interrupted, and the one time they successfully bone.

rather exquisite by leaveanote 4.4k E 

Stede fucks him exactly once and Ed feels fucking wild with it the next day. So desperate to have him again he can barely think, and as nervous and excited as the moments after the first time they'd kissed.

And, given how that wound up going, all the more anxious about losing him.

My Saddle's Waiting by Dracothelizard 5.2k E

He regretfully covers Bonnet with the sheets, drawing them up to his waist. “I am gonna do my best to keep you alive,” he promises, brushing some hair away from Bonnet’s face. “Because once you’re healed up, I am gonna ride you like a pony.”

Bonnet whimpers. “I should be a lighthouse.”

“Yeah,” Ed says, “bet people can see your dick from miles away once we get it hard.” He stands up to find a comfortable chair to sit in so he can keep an eye on Bonnet during the night.

He’s not gonna let the man die before getting that massive dick inside of him.

---

In which Ed catches sight of Stede's cock after saving him from the Spanish and dragging him back to the Revenge, and embarks on an important mission.

Like a Needle to Skin It Leaves a Mark by greatbriton 6.3k E

“Oh! Or we find a nearby port and the whole crew gets matching tattoos, like this one!” Stede says and, without a thought to his actions, runs a finger against a part of Ed’s lower arm where a tattoo of an anchor slotted between stars and crosses resides. Ed's skin is cooler than Stede would imagine, if he imagines such a thing. “It could be a team building exercise!  What do you thi--”

Stede finally looks up to see Ed’s eyes focused intently on where Stede’s finger lies against his arm. Stede pulls his hand away as if burned. He’s overstepped. Clumsy and entirely indelicate of him, he mentally chastises himself.

Weird by Skrifores 5.6k E

In which Ed muses on all the things which are just fucking weird about being on the Revenge, especially the cute, strange, lunatic captain.

make sure you bind me (hand and foot) by Hymn 6.3k E

Finally, he looks at Edward.

Stede’s pupils are blown, eyes all dark and hungry. He licks his upper lip nervously. Ed can see the frantic pop of his pulse; can see the clench and flex of his jaw, like he’s struggling. But not in a bad way. No, not in a bad way at all, Edward decides, watching as Stede tugs a little more on the ropes. How his breath stutters, then leaves him in a shuddery exhale.

“Hm. That’s not a bad look on you, Stede,” Edward murmurs.

“I admit,” Stede gulps. “I was not prepared for being so- so affected by this.”

Ed grins, showing all his teeth. “Good.”

The Finer Things by BewareTheIdes15 5.9k E

“Listen, yeah,” Ed says, obviating the entire statement by taking an overlarge slug of his drink. The pink dart of his tongue that follows after is almost hidden by the shadow of his mustache.

“I’ve been thinking. How would you feel about, uh,” the sound of the leather of his glove grating against his trousers seems loud in the quiet as he traces the length of his thigh up to his hip, restless fingers tap-tapping away again against the steel of a fastening. “Lending a hand?”

In which Ed has no chill, Stede has no idea how this happened, and everyone needs to get their shit together.

we're finding new forms by Hymn 6.1k E

“Yeah,” Ed agrees, leaning in, breathing deep. “Yeah, you’re good. You’re fine.”

“Mm,” is Stede’s smiling response, and then between one moment and the next Ed is being kissed again. His shaking hands are in Stede’s hair, gripping at his ear, the side of his neck, trying to hold on to the shape of him while Ed himself feels like he’s falling apart. Heat and tongues and the slick, indecent slide of them take over. Breaths funneling into one another.

Against Ed’s gasping mouth, Stede murmurs, “My dear. You’re shaking,” before sucking in Ed’s bottom lip.

Groaning, Ed doesn’t try to fight it—the tide of panic, of love, of fear that lingers. He hadn’t expected that part, to be honest. All his life and Ed had shown fear the middle finger every time it came knocking. He’s had to, hasn’t he? But then wham, love stomps him to the ground, sets up a home inside his chest, and Ed hasn’t known peace since.

Stede’s fingers trying their damnedest to wiggle under his leather, squeezing at Ed’s ass sure as shit isn’t helping keep him sane.

Harbor by derryday 3.7k E

Ed had spent most of his formative years on ships. By the time he met Stede, the legendary Blackbeard had sea legs for days.

Wooden decks and billowing sails had become almost an extension of his body. He remained sure-footed even when timber strained and creaked. Moving with the push and pull of the sea became as natural to him as breathing.

A ship could heave and buck like an unruly horse as sheets of rain lashed the sails and thunder cracked overhead, and Ed would just shift his weight with the swaying deck, almost smiling at the sea's antics.

The touch of Stede's broad hands, the warm firm press of his thigh against Ed's groin—that storm made even him falter.

Lovers and Madmen by ElapsedSpiral 4.4k E

Ed said "nah, all good" but what he meant was, god as his witness, he was going to marry the [expletive] out of Stede Bonnet.

*

My take on a marriage fic, featuring Stede almost getting cockblocked by his own lack of self-esteem, Ed going full Bridezilla and the poor crew having to deal with them both.

Your Feedback Is Important to Us by ElapsedSpiral 4.1k E

Stede starts holding open cabin hours to allow the crew to air their grievances. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

AKA my “Stede is going to go off like a horny volcano when he finally gets laid” fic.

*

Featuring Stede’s cursed yet sexy moustache, Swede lore and Lucius being altogether too good at his job(s).

Co-Captain Duties by Fyre 3.5k E

He tugged at the hem, chewing on his lip. Subtle didn’t seem to be getting the message across, so maybe it was time for something a bit more direct. Yeah, they’d changed in front of each other before, but that was changing and they’d hardly been paying that much attention. Or he hadn’t, anyway, not with gorgeous silk in his hands. Fuck’s sake, they were co-captains now, weren’t they?

continue to part two

[hollywoodxwhore]

Ours | Chapter 11

Colson x Presley (Original Female Character)

Synopsis: Presley and Colson fell in love accidentally, but they were meant to be. Now that all the obstacles have been removed, they're moving in together in LA. Now, they have all the time in the world for Colson to teach Presley all of the things he knows. This fic is the sequel to Mine, which can be found in my masterlist!

Warnings/Content: The angst is coming y'all...please be prepared for BIG content warnings. Alleged domestic abuse, vomiting, panic attacks, BIG feelings, swearing

Colson

A week or so before Presley and I got married, Slim asked me a weird question. He asked if I was over Megan.

My knee jerk reaction was to scoff and tell him, “Of course I am.” But now I’m not so sure.

I have zero residual feelings for her. Presley takes up 100% of my heart. Even just looking at Megan repulses me sometimes. But will I ever be over the things she did, the way she made me feel? The way she broke my heart and made me feel small and worthless?

No. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over that. Especially when she can’t let go of me.

Presley and I have been married a week when it happens.

I had an interview this morning and now the two of us are on the couch, snuggled up together. Presley is dozing in my arms as a cheesy scary movie plays softly on the TV. I’m almost drowsing myself when my phone buzzes loudly on the coffee table, startling both of us. It’s a phone call. Presley leans forward and grabs my phone, handing it to me.

I frown when I see Ashleigh’s name on the screen. It’s a random time for Ash to be calling, but I answer anyway. “Ash,” I say.

“Kells.” Her voice is a little wary, cautious. My spine stiffens and Presley pulls away, looking at me with concern in her eyes. 

“What’s going on?” I ask sharply. I put the phone on speaker. 

Ashleigh sighs. “You…you don’t follow Megan on Instagram, do you?”

A sick feeling twists in my stomach and I swallow it down. “I blocked her forever ago. Why?”

“Colson, I’m going to send you a screenshot. I need you to breathe before you do anything. We’re going to get it figured out,” she says. “Presley, are you there?”

“I’m here,” Presley answers quickly.

“Can you make sure he doesn’t lose his shit?” Ashleigh asks.

Angry, I glare at the phone, but then the screenshot comes through and all the anger at Ashleigh drains and is replaced by a fear that turns all the blood in my veins to ice.

The screenshot is a picture of a bruise. Megan’s face isn’t in the picture so it’s impossible to tell when it was taken. The focus of the photo is the large, hand-shaped bruise around her upper arm. My mouth dries out as my eyes flick down to read the caption.

I’ve been quiet too long about what happened to me almost two years ago.

My ex got married recently. He gets to live his perfect fairytale life while I fight every single day to 

heal from what he put me through. Bruises heal but emotional trauma doesn’t heal as easily. 

For a year of my life, I was abused at the hands of Colson Baker, aka Machine Gun Kelly. The things 

he did to me are horrific, unspeakable. I tried to warn his now wife, but she didn’t listen, just like I 

didn’t. This is how I heal, by posting it for others to see. Domestic abuse is real and it happens to 

people all the time. I refuse to suffer in silence anymore. 

By the time I read the last word, Presley has already grabbed a trash can and the contents of my stomach fill it. Even after my stomach is empty, I keep gagging. Ashleigh has gone quiet. Presley is silent, her hand rubbing circles on my back. This has to be a nightmare. There’s no way this is really happening to me.

Ashleigh hangs up after a while and Presley whisks the trash can out of the room. I sit on the couch, covered in sweat and shivering at the same time. One Instagram post and my career is over. My life is over. There’s no coming back from something like this. 

My phone is blowing up and I silently power it off, attempting to set it on the coffee table, but my hands are shaking so hard that it tumbles to the floor. I can vaguely hear Presley saying my name but my ears are ringing, the sound of waves rushing so loudly that nothing else feels real. And then, everything is black.

When I wake up again, there’s a sour taste in my mouth and I can tell I’m horizontal. I open my eyes but my head hurts, and all at once, it slams into me, what happened. Nausea rolls over me again but I breathe against it. I will not throw up again. It’s dark where I lie on the couch in the living room, but I can hear voices from the kitchen. 

“...defamation?” Presley.

“...can…that, but…reputation.” A voice I vaguely recognize. I rub my eyes, trying to focus on what they’re saying, but I can’t completely make it out. Who is here? 

I stifle a groan as I roll off the couch. Nausea washes over me again and I close my eyes, steadying myself on the arm of the couch before shuffling into the kitchen. I’m surprised when I see that the kitchen is full. Ashleigh and Presley sit at the dining room table with my lawyer, a short dude with a head of thick blonde hair. Olivia, Cash, Slim, Baze, and Rook sit around the island, everyone looking sick and stricken with worry.

“Kells,” Slim says when he sees me, jumping to his feet. He rushes over to me and pulls me into a tight hug. I let myself be held.

When he lets me go, Presley is by my side, and all I want to do is fall into her. She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me in and my eyes sting with tears. Does she believe Megan? What will I do if Presley is convinced I’m an abuser? I never laid a nonconsensual hand on Megan. I won’t even get into all the times she slapped me because that doesn’t seem to count as abuse. I choke on a sob and Presley just holds me tighter, whispering quiet assurances in my ear. She holds me until I somewhat compose myself, and when I pull back, my lawyer is on his feet, walking towards me. 

“Mr. Baker,” he says, shaking my hand. “We’re going to fix this. I swear to you.”

I can’t seem to find my voice. I stumble over to the dining room and take a seat. My lawyer explains to me what he plans to do. We’re going to sue Megan for defamation. He prattles on about how there’s no proof, about how she never reported abuse during our relationship so nothing is concrete. He assures me that we’ll win, that we’ll run Megan dry of her money. But all I can think is that the world is going to think I’m an abuser.

Things got a lot better in the media for me when Presley and I got together. The media was happy to see me with a beautiful, talented girl. It seemed like opinions were finally starting to change.

But Megan can’t let me be happy without her. 

I should’ve seen this coming. 

And now it’s too late.

Presley

I sit up in bed waiting for Colson to come out of the bathroom.

He’s been in there for a long time, pushing half an hour. I don’t like that he’s hiding from me, that he isn’t allowing me to comfort him, but at the same time, I don’t want to push him. I glance at my phone; 2:09 AM. 

As I sit there worrying, it comes to me out of nowhere: Colson is scared I believe Megan.

With my heart in my throat, I scramble to my feet and go to the bathroom, placing my palm against the door. “Colson,” I say.

A sniffle that breaks my heart. “Yeah?”

“Let me in.”

“It’s unlocked.”

I swallow hard and open the door. He’s sitting on the closed toilet lid, head hanging down. He looks so broken that tears spring to my eyes. I go over to him and squat down in front of him. Reluctantly, he looks at me with red rimmed blue eyes. I’ve never seen him look so sad and it practically rips my heart from my chest.

“Hey,” I say softly, cupping his cheek. He leans into my touch. “Will you please come to bed?”

Colson sniffs and closes his eyes. His lip trembles a little and I want to go to Megan’s house right now and fucking throttle her. I keep the anger at bay, though. Finally, Colson nods. I take his hand and lead him to our bed, crawling in before him. He slides under the covers and I pull his head to my chest.

We’re quiet for a few minutes, my fingers running through his hair. He’s trembling. “Cols?” I whisper against his hairline. “You know I don’t believe her, right?”

Colson is silent for a long few moments. And then, he bursts into tears.

My eyes go wide. I’ve seen Colson cry, but never like this. His entire body is wracked with the strength of his sobs and my shirt is instantly soaked with his tears. I cling to him, pulling his body on top of mine. He clings to my waist, his head on my chest as he completely falls apart.

It’s a long time before the sobs subside into sniffles. I push his hair off his sweaty forehead and rub his back gently. “Baby,” I murmur. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I believe you. I know who you are.”

“What if you change your mind?” he rasps. “Everyone seems to believe everyone else but me eventually.”

I shake my head. “That won’t happen. Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

“Then trust that I won’t believe her,” I say, petting his hair. “Colson, I married you. I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t trust and love 100% of you. Okay?”

Colson nods after a moment, his body relaxing ever so slightly. He believes me. He knows I wouldn’t lie to him. He sighs. “What am I going to do?”

“Survive,” I murmur, kissing his head. “Let your lawyer handle it. Let your fans handle it.”

“They won’t believe me,” he says miserably. 

“Oh really?” I ask, reaching for my phone. It takes me seconds to pull up an Instagram account with over 700,000 followers with the handle, @WeSupportColson. The bio reads: EST stands with Colson. Megan is lying. We’re here to show Colson we believe him. 

“That’s real?” Colson croaks. “You didn’t make it?”

I chuckle. There’s my sweet boy, with his sense of humor. “It’s real, babe. You have so many people who stand with you and always will.”

Colson sighs. “If anyone thinks I’m an abuser it’s too much,” he mutters. “I’m a good person, Presley. Why does everyone fucking hate me so much?” He’s crying again. I shush him and squeeze him to my chest. I don’t reply. He’s exhausted and broken and not thinking logically. What he needs is sleep, and I’m going to hold him until he finds it.

We lie there for over an hour before Colson’s breathing finally evens out. I relax beneath him and continue to gently stroke his hair. I lie awake for another half an hour before deciding Colson is definitely asleep, and then I let my tired eyes close, too.

Taglist:@triplexdoublex@jaxbreaker@mgklove99xx@jinx-on-mars-19xx@iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @anonymousme86 @whiteleoqueen @feroniakutenpuu@hxllywoodwhxree

[wiccawrites]

KINNPORSCHE BODYSWAP AU ||

AU where kinnporsche are sons of two of Thailand's most affluent families!! The Theerapanyakuls are old rich but recently struggling -- they've got a good name but their business isn't as flourishing as it once was and it's steadily shrinking. On the other hand, the Kittisawats are new rich. They made it big in the software industry just a decade ago and now they're easily one of the richest families in the country.

Kinn and Porsche are both next in line to inherit their respective businesses but the way they were raised are night and day. Kinn was raised under Korn's iron hand and he's a middle child to top it all off. Meanwhile Porsche is smart but generally unserious -- he's outgoing and a free spirit!

They grew up as rivals. Porsche has gone out of his way to tease Kinn ever since they were little. Kinn is one of the few people that can get Porsche to take things seriously -- mostly because Porsche likes competing with Kinn and trying to see if he can ruin Kinn's day by winning.

Anyway Something Happens™ (idk what, let's say the gay stars align for now) and they end up switching bodies with no way of switching back. 

This is a problem because Kinn's engaged to be married in a week and there is no fucking way Porsche is sleeping with Kinn's blander-than-hotel-wallpaper fiance. He's adamant about it and he doesn't understand how Kinn could throw his whole life away for a business. 

Kinn honestly didn't like his fiance as well but Korn had been breathing down his neck about getting married for the sake of expanding the business for literal years now. And his fiance was from a really good background. If he breaks off the engagement, especially this late in the game, he'll disgrace the family name. He tells Porsche as much. 

That's when Porsche gets the idea. 

Since they're in each other's bodies, Porsche can just break the engagement off as Kinn. He thinks that if he delivers an impassioned speech standing up for himself (well, for Kinn technically), Korn will eventually have to understand.

After all, Porsche knew he had a way with words. What could go wrong? 

A lot, apparently. 

Porsche does as planned during Kinn's engagement party and Korn is livid. He's never seen the man turn that shade of red before. Korn is a breath away from publicly disowning Kinn until the real Kinn takes Porsche's hand and apologizes for not being brave enough to do the right thing. 

Suddenly, Porsche catches himself looking at Kinn. He's grateful they can see each other for who they truly are because it would be weird if Porsche looked at Kinn and instead saw himself right now.

Because Kinn is making up a story about how he and Porsche have been secretly dating on and off for years and throughout Kinn's engagement. And he's being loud about it. People are staring. In fact, Porsche is sure the only reason no one is doing anything is because the story is, well, it's juicy.

"Please believe me when I say it's all my fault for being a coward," Kinn says in a tone that has everyone hanging onto his every word. He turns to Porsche, and then he gets on one knee. "Kinn, I'm sorry for taking so long to realize that you're the person I've been waiting for all my life. You're the one who loves me, and I'm the one who loves you most. Will you marry me?"

Porsche wonders how the fuck Kinn came up with all this shit on the spot. 

Because it's genius.

The Kittisawats were currently the third richest family in Thailand. Korn would be a fool to force his son to go through with his existing engagement now. Not to mention, the press would eat the whole romance angle up. And being engaged would give Kinn and Porsche the chance to cover for each other while they figure out how the fuck they can go back to their own bodies.

God, Kinn was brilliant. Porsche could kiss him.

Porsche blinks. Actually, that wasn't a bad idea at all. Everyone was watching. The better they sold this lie, the more time they'd get to fix things.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Porsche kneels so that he and Kinn are eye-to-eye. A relieved smile breaks through his face as he loops his arms around Kinn's shoulders.

"Yes," Porsche whispers before he seals their lips together.

If his heart skips a few beats, that's only because he's never been into public displays of affection.

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

words: 1.5k rating: m additional tags: canon compliant, mentions of mexico, mentions of trevor (but not by name), late s10, mickey's pov, spoiler alert: ian wants mickey to top him for the first time and he feels weird asking, they don't fuck yet - it's the convo and a lil lead-up to separate spice

summary: one night while sitting on the couch, ian's got a proposition for his husband. and it's got nothing to do with the year-round holiday tree lip and tammi are doing.

✨ just a lil sumn sumn to get the writing juices flowing ✨

“So I’ve been thinking…”

The wave of dread that surges through Mickey escapes him in a long, drawn out sigh. 

“Christ, Ian - thought we vetoed this shit like an hour ago.” (They did.) “Just ‘cause Lip’s doin’ the whole ‘christmas tree for every holiday’ schtick that doesn’t mean we gotta.”

The look Ian sends him from the other side of the couch is irritated, but has cooled off considerably from when they discussed this topic at length this afternoon. 

He hasn’t reached The Chin status. 

Yet. 

“You can relax, alright? I’m not talking about that.”

The mindless little thumb stroke he’s been working over Mickey’s ankle bone as they watch TV, however, falls still. Now it’s just a big, heavy hand where Mickey’s socked feet rest in his lap. 

Suspicious. 

Alright.

“Whatchya thinkin’ ‘bout then,” Mickey tries.

He waits, for a good few beats of the Bob’s Burgers intro.

When he doesn’t get an answer he wiggles his foot, bringing Ian’s hand along for the ride. “...‘ay…”  

Ian’s eyebrows jump lightly as he’s pulled out of his thoughts, then mellow out while he just barely glances at Mickey and then back toward the TV. “Nothin’...” he says. “Never mind.”

Oh.

Well that’s just not gonna fucking happen, is it?

Mickey grumbles, turning his foot again. But this time it’s to dig his toes annoyingly into Ian’s belly. “...‘nothing’, my ass. Spill it.” 

His foot is already being dragged away by the ankle and out of belly range. But the tiny crease in Ian’s brow is obvious. 

Oh yeah. It’s definitely something. “Ain’t ‘nothing’, so you might as well tell me before I break out the big guns.”

Mickey’s not super sure what ‘the big guns’ are in this situation. But his husband seems to know exactly what ‘the big guns’ are over there, judging by the tightness of his jaw. “Fucking annoying…” 

“Yup,” Mickey confirms with a serious, unsmiling nod. Even holds his hand up to flash his wedding band as a little reminder that his dumb ass recently married him, so who’s the sucker here? “Now talk.”

Another moment passes. 

Up in the air.

It could really go either way.

And then… 

“You know Mexico…?”

The knee-jerk reaction to patch over the sting with a joke will probably go away with time, but it still kicks up hard whenever that stretch of time gets brought up. “Heard of it, yeah.” 

There’s a reason Ian’s bringing it up, though. There always is. 

He says it carefully, his hand heavy where it’s still draped over Mickey. “‘Member how I said we could switch shit up…? …if we ever wanted to…?” 

Mickey blinks.

He does remember that. Just as much as he remembers how they did not do that. Even a little bit.  

It’s not that they were actively avoiding it. Some things just slip through the cracks when you’re barreling toward the border to escape the law like goddamn Queer Bonnie and Clyde. 

And yeah… They’re not running anymore. They’ve got time to do whatever the fuck they want now. That little suggestion just got shoved back into the corner of Mickey’s brain with the rest of the Mexico shit, is all. And Ian hasn’t said shit about it since. 

Until now.

Mickey fixes his eyes on the carefully projected pride that puffs out his husband’s chest. 

Ahh. He gets it now.

“...you tryna bottom for me, Gallagher?”

Ian doesn’t look at him. “Why the hell not?”

And whoa - “Easy, tiger. Not fightin’ ya on it.” But Mickey has to chuckle. Can’t help the tease that slips into his tone just as easily as the lick of interest that slips up his spine. 

In fact, he should probably shut the fuck up for a second or two while it all works through his system so he doesn’t spook him. Because one look at Ian bristling over there keeps perspective real clear. 

Ian’s been working up to this. Feels like he’s gotta puff up like a damn bullfrog to save face - to keep Mickey from giving him shit. Like they didn’t just commit their entire stupid lives to each other. Like Mickey wouldn’t do fucking anything to make this man understand how gone he is for him.

“...‘ay…” Another nudge of his foot into Ian’s tummy. But it’s softer this time. Urging. “Say more-a that shit. Already into it.”

Ian chances a look over at him. Cautious eyes in flickering light. “Really?”

Too cute for his own good. Even as a bullfrog. “Really.” 

Ian’s thumb falls back into soft, mindless circles over Mickey’s ankle bone again. More soothing for himself, probably, as his brain works over the words before they trickle from his mouth. “Done it before. …few times.”

It’s a test of Mickey’s patience. A test of his self control to not launch into his ‘flipping a quarter to see who has to bottom is a red fuckin’ flag’ routine, because that’s not what this is. And he and Ian have had their own fair share of red flags throughout the years. Mickey’s just petty when it comes to the thought of other men, so fight him.

But Ian doesn’t need that from him right now.

He settles on, “Uh huh.” Sidesteps and comes back in at a safe distance. “And that was…?”

A leading question. Ian chews on it for a second with narrowed, searching eyes, before his head tilts to the side with his answer. “It was fine…”

Underwhelmed. 

Purposefully unspecific. 

Mickey brings his bottom lip in and worries at it to shut himself up. 

And it’s absolutely the right thing to do - to give him room. Because before he knows it, Ian is shifting a little to look at him, his gaze no longer lacking purpose as it locks onto him in the dark.

“Mick…I want it to be you,” he says, not looking away. “I just know it’ll be good if it’s you.”

It sends another swoop of interest blossoming inside Mickey. Arousal. Intrigue. Fucking pride.

And Ian’s still talking. “You used to top all the time, so you know what the fuck you’re doing-...” The circles over Mickey’s ankle build in pressure. “But I also know we’ve never-... Like… Even as kids. That’s not how we do it-”

“Who’re you tryna convince here? You know I’m already sold.” 

Ian swallows up whatever else he has at the ready. Whatever’s been building building building in his brain as this moment neared. 

He looks back over at him.

Mickey grins. “Yeah. It’s fuckin’ happening, so I’m not sure who all that convincin’ is for.”

A pent up breath escapes Ian’s nose, his blink heavy with obvious relief. “You’ll do it?” 

And seriously, it’s like he’s asking if Mickey will strangle a man to death for him. (Which he’ll also do, off the record. But Ian already knows that.) 

“You know, not everything’s gotta be a big goddamn negotiation, huh?” The couch creaks as Mickey pulls his feet back into himself. “Don’t gotta break out the fuckin’ quarter anymore, sweetcheeks.”

Whoops. And after all that self control, too.

Ian rolls his eyes, both hands falling into his empty lap. “Never shoulda told you that.”

But his mounting attitude is quickly snuffed out by Mickey invading his space, his grin lethal as he closes in, “Mm-mm…” and then seals the deal with a hungry, instigating kiss. “...‘course I’ll fuckin’ do it. Thought about it before, to tell ya the truth…”

Ian decompresses against him, falling into the rhythm of his breathing as he asks it. “...really…?”

“Mhm…” Mickey grins, “...fuckin’ hot…” He keeps it close. Keeps it steamy. Keeps both their mouths moving, just in different ways. “Prob’ly make the most fuckable faces with my dick in ya - huh, lover…” 

The nickname is supposed to make Ian laugh, but what he gets instead is a huffy, bitten off groan. The makings of a whine. 

And damn, that’s so much fucking better, ain’t it? This is gonna be fun.

Mickey’s grin widens at the greedy hips pressing up into him, visions of what’s to come nice and tasty as they unravel for him in his head. “You want it right now…?” He could give it to him right now. They could absolutely do this right fucking now.

But before he can get too ahead of himself, he’s being swept into a different but gloriously familiar direction, Ian’s arms wrapping around him and lugging them both up until he’s carrying him toward the back of the apartment. 

“Way too fuckin’ horny to deal with that right now,” he admits, and it’s breathless. Kinda like how Mickey’s feeling up here as Ian hurries them into the bedroom with very clear purpose.

And you know what, Mickey is A-O-Fucking-Kay with that shit. “Next time,” he promises through a kiss.

“Next time,” Ian agrees, and then dumps Mickey onto the bed and crawls on after him.

[pretty-boys-book-club]

quick life updates no one's asked for

i'm alive

not just existing, but actually living. and part of that living involves writing. sure, i may be knee-deep in edits (might have written and rewritten some chapter 4 or 5 times), but progress is progress, right? at least i'm putting words on the screen

i'm moving out on my own for the first time ever. and let me tell you, scared shitless about not having enough money for paying for things like internet installation and a fridge. thank the universe for my worryingly vast collection of mugs; at least i won't need to worry about buying glasses any time soon!

on a more personal note, i'm in the midst of seeking a diagnosis for adhd and autism (really surprising to me, tbh). process has been long and seems like i still have a fair bit to go. but it's something i put myself into so hopefully i get some sense of closure? has anyone on here been through this and felt scared that their doctor would say they're just too weird and no diagnosis fit into what they have/feel?

other than that, life's been just work work work lately (all work and no play makes cat a dull girl and all that jazz). but hey, gotta pay those bills, right?

now, onto the lighter stuff. i recently matched with someone on bumble who shares my love for twin peaks and criminal minds. we had a good chat for a couple of days… before they disappeared into the abyss. ah, the joys of modern dating.

somehow i hit around 1.2k followers during all this time? thanks for sticking around for my ramblings, i guess

oh, and did i mention my birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks? another year older, hopefully a none the little wiser.

and last but not least, i've hit the four-month mark at my new job. it may not seem like a big deal, but i'm trying to cherish every single milestone after being dismissed out of nowhere last year

stay weird, you guys

cat

[quills-of-freedom]

Preview of tomorrow's Reiner fic...

It's five chapters deep and will be ready to upload tomorrow (BST)

Here's a little preview of what is to come...

“I’ve noticed you like this sort of thing.” Reiner noted to y/n after their laughing fit.

“Hm?” She hummed while taking a drink of water. “What sort of thing?”

He pointed up above them to the tree they were under. “Nature. Animals, trees. That sort of thing.”

“Oh. Yeah.” She smiled gorgeously, making his chest melt like butter. “Is it obvious?”

“No, not really. Only to a trained eye like mine.” He smirked.

She smiled mischievously. She always felt at ease and playful around Reiner. And just like Marco had said, these days they just seemed to naturally drift towards each other.

“Right. Your trained eye.” She smirked. “What else has that skill picked up on?”

“That you don’t really like eating meat.”

“And that you actually enjoy it when you’re caught in the rain.”

Her demeanour changed instantly, shocked that he’d picked up on that. Only her three best friends knew that.

“How did you –”

“Reiner…” Her lips part.

“I told you…” He smiled coyly, tapping his temple. “Trained eye.”

“Seriously, how do you know these things? Have you been talking to Eren?” She pouted, which he found adorable.

“Then tell me how.”

Laughing, he shook his head.

“No.”

He then tapped his nose.

Rolling her eyes and sighing she gave in.

“Alright Mr Amazing. Won’t you, oh so please tell me how your greatness knew these things?”

She just looked at him in awe.

Laughing out loud he draped his arm over his knee.

“Your eyes light up whenever we’re in the forest. They also seem to linger at the tops of trees and flowers. You smile slightly when you see something in particular you enjoy, let’s say for example a small hidden waterfall.”

“The meat thing is easy. You look away quickly when the suppliers come in. You feel bad for the animals is my guess but hey…I’m an eagle eye not a mind reader.”

y/n let out a chuckle.

“And the rain thing, well you get that same look in your eye as when we’re in the forest.”

“A good Soldier always is.” He beamed.

There was a short pause as she took that all in.

“Well aren’t you observant?” She then smiled.

Given that they were pretty close now he knew she was joking so he let out a laugh.

“A good Soldier…or maybe you’ve been staring at me, Reiner Braun.” She arched an eyebrow at him as he felt a little nervous at that statement. She then held her nose up pretending to act snobby.

“A little creepy if you ask me.”

“Just leave it to me.” He grinned. “I’ll take you to every single forest in these god damn walls.”

She laughed again. “Why?”

“To see you smile.” He replied simply.

“But I wanna be the one to make you smile.” He replied, heavy-lidded as he put his face a little closer to hers. “And to give you that sparkle in your eyes.”

She felt extremely touched to hear that.

“You can see me smile any time. We see each other every day.” She joked.

y/n glanced away shyly, the weird feeling she had around Reiner getting more intense.

“Look at those two.” Eren steamed from afar. “They’re so close they’re practically kissing.”

“Just leave it Eren.” Mikasa said in her usual monotone voice. “Haven’t you noticed how happy she’s been recently?”

Armin, who had already figured out Eren’s feelings for y/n, didn’t really know what to say. His mind ticked over but before he could think of anything, Eren continued.

“It’s not like they’re in earshot of anyone so there’s no need to be talking so quietly either.”

Eren looked like he’d just been stabbed in the gut. “What are you saying?”

Mikasa glared at him. “I’m saying, if you try anything to ruin it, I will make sure you’re discharged from Cadets due to injury. Don’t you think she deserves to be happy?”

Frowning, Eren looked back over as the pair of them let out another belly laugh.

“Of course she does…” He sighed.

I just want it to be with me…

[motownfiction]

no ghost in the graveyard

Colleen O’Connor has a thing about cemeteries. On every road trip, she makes her whole family – all six children – visit at least one. This summer, on a road trip to visit some semi-distant relatives in Rochester, New York, she makes them stop at a cemetery to see Susan B. Anthony.

Will, who is sixteen now, has had just about enough.

“Mom, no!” he shouts from the backseat.

“What’s the matter?” Colleen asks. “I didn’t think you hated the cemetery that much.”

“I hate them,” Molly, who’s ten, says. “You don’t even let us play ‘There’s no ghost in the graveyard.’”

“Because it’s disrespectful. Will, honey, what’s the matter with you?”

“I don’t want to see Susan B. Anthony’s grave like this!” he says. “Bad enough I have to be away from Lucy for five days … now I’m gonna go see Susan B. Anthony’s grave without her, too? She’s gonna kill me!”

“If she does, then you’ll get to meet Susan B. Anthony,” Sarah, recent high school graduate, snarks.

“Shut up, Sarah,” Will says. “You didn’t even have to go on this trip.”

“And pay for my own food? For almost an entire week? I’ll pass, man.”

In spite of Will’s protests, they end up at the cemetery to see Susan B. Anthony. Will is resolved not to get anywhere near the headstone – not without Lucy. Molly grabs Claire and Sophie and tries to force them into playing there’s no ghost in the graveyard. Will and Sarah hang behind, staying as far away from the rest of the O’Connors as possible.

They walk in lockstep. Will keeps his eyes on the dirt beneath him, trying not to think about everything there. He takes a beat before asking Sarah the first thing that comes to mind.

“You think anyone’s ever died here?”

Sarah snorts.

“It’s a fucking cemetery, man,” she says. “We’re the weird ones for being alive.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean … do you think anybody ever dropped dead during a burial? Like they couldn’t take it and died of a broken heart or something.”

Sarah shakes her head.

“Broken heart, no,” she says. “Heat exhaustion, sure.”

Will nods, but he’s not really sure why. He’s just thinking about Lucy. Before he got in the car for this stupid trip, he kissed her on her porch and told her he wished she could go with him. If only she knew how much he meant it now. If only he knew how much he’d mean it then. He thinks about the night before they left … how pretty Lucy looked, lit up by the moon coming in through the blinds. They weren’t listening to “There’s a Moon out Tonight,” but with how beautiful she was, they should have been.

The next few words fly out of Will’s mouth a little too quickly.

“Sarah?”

“What now?”

“You know I … I had sex with Lucy last month.”

Sarah inhales like she just bashed her knee against that stupid too-big coffee table Mom and Dad just installed in the living room. Will knows that exact sound because they’ve all made it at least five times apiece.

“Hmm,” she says. “First time?”

“Yeah.”

“You OK?”

Will nods.

“OK,” Sarah says. “Is she?”

“Yeah,” Will says. “We’re … I dunno, I guess we really are OK.”

Sarah nods. She looks like she’s far away … like maybe she’s about to become the next ghost in the graveyard.

“I’m sorry,” Will says. “I didn’t mean … I just felt like I needed to tell somebody who wasn’t Sam or Daniel. You were the only other person who made sense.”

“It’s OK,” Sarah says, and Will thinks he mostly believes her. “Just don’t die. Or get her pregnant. But mostly don’t die.”

“OK,” Will says. “But if I die, I’ll make sure it happens in a cemetery. That way, you won’t have to waste any time in burying me.”

“I think it’s cute you think I wouldn’t throw you right in the furnace.”

“Yeah.”

They walk in silence a little while longer. Thank goodness.

[rebelwrites]

Mrs What?

Dominic Toretto x Reader

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This Months Writing

Requested by @pumpkin-spice-hate Can I get prompt 20. With Dominic Toretto please? “It’s us against the world.” Can I have Prompt 11 with Dominic Toretto? A game of truth or dare gets out of hand and Person A and Person B wind up getting married.

A/N: ngl this has taken me like two days to write and is probably my longest fic that’s a stand alone that I’ve done. We are just over 2k on this one.

Tonight was one of the rare nights that you were all together, things had been pretty quiet recently, and you weren't going to lie you missed the nights like this where everyone was chilling in the back garden, the bbq was on and the beers were flowing. There was only one thing missing though and that was you were single, and had been for a while now. No one was good enough, and you couldn’t help but compare them to Dom.

Your relationship with Dom was a tricky one, he had been your best friend for years, but over the last year or so things became flirty and on a handful of occasions when you had drank a bit too much ended up sleeping together. Everyone knew how you felt towards him but also knew that you didn’t have the balls to confess your feelings. So they let things be in hopes that one day you both would see sense.

“How's my favorite girl doing tonight,” Dom grinned, as he threw his arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his solid body. A body that always made you weak at the knees. Everytime he called you his favorite girl, your heart fluttered but you quickly shrugged it off because neither of you seemed to want to take the next step.

“I will be better once I have necked quite a few beers,” You laughed, looking up at him.

“Is that right?” He hummed, as a smirk graced his face, “Any particular reason you plan on getting shitfaced tonight?”

“No, no reason,” You shrugged, feeling your skin starting to heat up, as you knew he knew what you were wanting. “Just had a long week and what's better than drinking and hanging out with my favorite people.”

“Well you know where to find me, if you need anything,” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin, before he wandered off, leaving you in a bit of a frenzy.

If only you had the guts to come clean to him, letting him know that you wanted more. You didn’t want this weird ass friends with benefits when drunk relationship, you wanted to be his girl. But you doubt that would ever happen.

“I am not playing truth or dare,” You huffed, pulling the beer bottle to your lips, as you leant back against Dom. Once again you were sitting in your usual spot, between Dom’s legs. “You know that game is for horny teenagers, it sucks.”

“Or you are just scared that certain things may come to light,” Roman smirked, staring you right in the eyes.

“I suggest Rome if you don’t want this beer bottle shoving where the sun doesn’t shine then I would shut up,” You growled, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Got it,” He nodded, holding his hands up in surrender, “But we are playing this game so suck it up buttercup.”

Much to your annoyance the night went on, so did this god damn game of truth or dare, and so did the pile of empty bottles, meaning that tonight would end up going one way. Tangled in the sheets with Dom.

Every time it landed on you, you chose dare. You wasn’t going to confess to Dom over a stupid game. Your mind was racing, as Dom, had his hands resting on your shoulder, his fingers gently brushing against the back of your neck.

“Y/N, you are up kiddo,” Tej smirked, “So truth, which may I add you haven’t picked all night or dare.”

“Dare,” You nodded, taking a long sip of your beer, “You fuckers ain't going to get any truths out of me tonight,” You shrugged, with a slight slur to your words.

“Hmm lets see, I’m sure we can get a truth out of you even on a dare,” Tej winked, looking around the group, “I dare you to kiss someone that you have so many things that are unsaid to say to them.”

You knew what they were doing, they were giving you and Dom the push you needed, but you didn’t think it would work, if Dom was interested in anything more then surely he would be the one to initiate something, not keep dragging on a flirty friendship. Taking a deep breath, you downed the remainder of the beer, before tossing the bottle onto the ever growing pile.

“You know you are an asshole right?” You huffed, folding your arms across your chest.

“Just hurry up and do it woman, we ain't got all day.” Roman laughed.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you let your heart catch up with your head. This could be the push that you both needed to get your acts together. Pushing yourself to your feet, you wasted no time in spinning around, locking gaze with Dom. A flirty smile appeared on your face as you placed one leg either side of his body, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“There's so many things to say,” You whispered against his lips, “things I have kept hidden for a while.”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond as you smashed your lips against his, as his hands found their way to your ass, as your lips worked in sync. This wasn’t the first time you and Dom had kissed but things sure as hell felt different, there was a lot more passion in this one kiss than ever before. Your stomach felt like it was about to explode as the sparks you felt caused the hairs on your skin to stand on end. You could have carried on kissing him forever but your lungs were starting to burn and you needed air, so reluctantly you pulled away, keeping your eyes closed as you rested your forehead against his.

“So I think we need to talk about a few things,” Dom hummed, against your lips, “I think we have both bottled things up for far too long now.”

“Do you want to go for a drive?” You whispered, finally letting your eyes open, staring into his brown eyes, “Get away from all these fuckers staring at us.”

“Come on then trouble,” Dom whispered, “With the amount we both have put away tonight I think a walk along the beach would be better.

That was the last thing you remembered of the night.

The sunlight that shone through the living room was blinding, why did no one think to close the goddamn blinds, your back was aching from sleeping on the sofa, curled up to Dom. Opening your eyes, you squinted, letting them adjust to the brightness of the room, a couple of the guys were awake and holding their head in their hands as the hangovers set in.

One thing that confused you was the fact you were now wearing a dress, you definitely wasn’t wearing a dress at the start of the night, so what the fuck happened after you kissed Dom around the fire?

It was too much to think about right now, your head was pounding, it felt like the room was spinning, and you were far to content tucked under Dom’s arms, so you nuzzled you face into his body and drifted back off to sleep in hopes that the hangover wouldn’t be so bad.

The sound of pots and pans being crashed around woke you up, groaning as you pulled your arm over your face, why were people being so loud? Going back to sleep did fuck up in heloing with the hangover and it currently felt like you had a baby elephant stomping on your head, and also you were now the only one on the sofa, at somepoint Dom had gotten off the sofa, more than likely for a piss.

“Morning sleepy,” He smiled, passing you a mug of freshly brewed coffee,moving your legs so he could sit down “How did you sleep?”

“Okay I think,” You half laughed, before taking a sip of coffee, “Hanging out of my arse though,”

“I think we all are feeling the effects from last night,” He nodded, “Do you remember last night at all because you passed out around 3am,”

“Honestly the last thing I remember is us going off for a walk, after that it's just blank.” You admitted, suddenly feeling a stinging on your finger causing you to look down at your hand, you cocked your brow at your hand as you saw the cling film wrapped around your ring finger, along with a cable tie that wasn’t fully tightened.

Slipping the cable tie off you placed it on your lap, before slowly unwrapping your finger to be met with the blank ink of the letters DT, now you were extremely confused, what the fuck happened last night and why couldn’t you remember anything. Looking over at Dom’s hand, to find he had the same just with your initials.

“Oh Mrs Toretto is finally awake,” Roman said with a childlike grin on his face.

“Urm excuse me,” You said not looking up from the black ink, “Mrs what?” You were in shock, there was no way that you and Dom got married last night was there? You tried your hardest to piece together anything from after your memory went but nothing was coming to mind.

“Mrs Toretto, seriously I think you're going deaf right now.” Roman laughed, leaning back against the other sofa.

“Do you really not remember last night?” Dom asked, rubbing his hand along your bare thigh, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“I am not going to lie to you, I remember nothing after us going for a walk,” You whispered looking up at him. “Did we really get married?”

“Yeah we really did,” He nodded, pulling his phone out to show you the pictures that had been took the previous night. “It started off with a dare, at first you told Brian to fuck off, you wasn’t going to marry someone on a dare, but after a little while of us fooling around in the kitchen, I asked you and you said yes so we went off to find the nearest place that would do it.”

“Wow,” You mumbled, placing your hand on top of his.

“But if it isn’t something you want then we can go get it annulled, and I completely understand if that is what you want.” Dom sighed, dropping his gaze from you, he knew that it was too much when he asked you last night, feelings had only just been admitted and there he was blurting out the question whilst you were both drunk as fuck, neither of you had proper riings either, just some shitty cable ties and a tattoo.

Your mind was racing, you didn’t know what to say or think. This wasn’t how you had dreamt you would get married, you thought you would have a somewhat big day, involving the cars and your whole family. Right now you just need a little bit of space to process everything.

“I need a moment to myself,” You whispered, moving your legs off Dom’s lap, pushing yourself to your feet and slowly scurrying out of the room, as you left the living room you didn’t miss the look on Dom’s face, he looked broken.

Sitting on the decking, you placed a cigarette between your lips, lighting it whilst letting your gaze fall on the mountain of empty Corona bottles. Maybe you would remember something from the night before, even if it was a small thing at least it would be something.

Everything happened so fast, one moment Dom had no idea what you were feeling and the next you were his wife.

Half an hour had now passed and you were still sitting on the decking, trying to piece together the night before. You saw the hurt in Dom’s eyes when you walked out of the living room and that hurt you more than the hangover.

“What you thinking?” Dom asked, as he sat down next to you.

“Just how crazy the last 24 hours have been,” You breathed, “I never thought for a second I would end up married, like this time yesterday you didn’t even know my true feelings for you and now we are married.”

“Like I said we can get it annulled if you want,” Dom sighed, “I don’t want to force you into anything.”

“Who said I wanted to get it annulled?” You asked, looking up at him, taking your hand in his, “Yes it wasn’t how I had seen myself getting married but I can remember bits, I mean my memory is still pretty hazy but it’s something. And cable ties for rings, that's a new one on me,” You giggled, resting your head on Dom’s shoulder.

“Hey, it was all I had on me at the time,” He chuckled, kissing the top of your head, “It's just you and me against the world babygirl, I know we have done things completely different and back to front but we aren’t normal people, we do not play by the rules.”

“Yeah we have never played by the rules,” You giggled.

“Come on then Mrs Toretto,” Dom grinned, “lets go get some breakfast because I don’t know about you but I am starving”

@chibsytelford @phoenixhalliwell @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @withmyteeth @jessprins13 @rightwhereiwantyou @jasonbabymama @pumpkin-spice-hate @garbinge @zozebo @nightlywords7 @pancakeisreading

[edwardskhakipants]

Forks, Washington. August 2004.

Esme and Carlisle stood in the middle of their grand living room, waiting for their five vampire children to arrive. Alice arrived first—prompt as usual. She settled herself gracefully onto the tufted sofa Esme had recently acquired, only to be immediately jostled by Emmett who heaved himself onto the cushions. A breath caught in Esme’s throat—she had lost many pieces from her beloved collection by that action—but it looked like this one was still in one piece. For the moment. Jasper took Edward’s normal spot in the only armchair, forcing Edward to wedge himself between Alice and Emmett.

“What?” Rosalie grumbled as she perched on the armrest of the couch beside Emmett, “Are we having another one of those How to Respect the Telepath in Your Life meetings again?”

“No,” Edward answered, fully aware of the intent of this meeting since it hatched in Carlisle's mind two days prior. “But there’s never a bad time to bring that up. Christ, Emmett, if you’re going to have a song stuck in your head for over seventy-two hours, the least you can do is learn the correct lyrics.”

Emmett’s eyebrows knit together, asking his brother a silent question.

“It’s ‘mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido,’” Edward answered.

Emmett’s brow furrowed doubtfully.

“No.” Edward shook his head, answering Emmett’s thoughts. “Why would he eat a beetle?”

Emmett grinned playfully and tilted his head towards Edward.

Edward wasn’t amused. “You know what it means.”

A silly grin plastered on his face, Emmett elbowed Edward in the ribs, silently egging him on.  

Edward’s eyes darted to Carlisle, then Esme, and he shifted in his seat. “Sexual desire,” he muttered.  

Emmett howled with laughter and clapped his hands once, “Wow, Eddie! You’re just going to say that in front of Esme!?” Edward scowled as Emmett’s bouts of laughter echoed through the room.

Esme ran a hand through her youngest’s ginger hair. “Boys,” she warned, and Emmett sucked in his laughter.

“Our meeting today has to do with all of you,” Carlisle began.

“We simply wanted to go over the rules of attending school with you kids before you start your second year at Forks High School,” Esme explained, unfolding and re-folding her hands in front of her. “There are already whispers, and we don’t want those whispers to turn into rumors.”

“I thought the only whispers about us at school were whether or not Edward liked girls,” Rosalie said, earning an eye-roll from Edward.

“No,” Alice chirped,” Some kids think we’re a cult.”

Jasper leaned back heavily in his chair. “We haven’t heard that one since the Seventies.”

“Kids are getting more creative these days.” Emmett nodded appreciatively.

Esme held up one, delicate finger. “Which is why it is best to take preventative action.”

Carlisle took the floor. “We thought a few reminders would be helpful before you started your first day of your second year,” Carlisle said. “We don’t want another incident like the one we had at the end of last year.”

Every head in the room turned towards Emmett.

“What?” Emmett threw up his hands in exasperation, “The water gun fight was the senior prank—I wasn’t the one who brought them to the school. Hell, I wasn’t even the only student who got suspended!”

“That’s true,” Carlisle agreed, “but you were the only student to shout, ‘Sit down, kids! Daddy’s gotta tinkle,’ and shoot the stream of the gun from your crotch.”

Jasper snickered—the sound was immediately silenced by a single raised eyebrow from Esme.

“I still don’t see the problem,” Emmett continued, “That’s not necessarily a vampire thing.”

Edward—who often mistook himself as the third vampire parent rather than the youngest son—sighed, “Yes, but it brings unnecessary attention to the family. Which is the first rule: do not bring attention to yourself.”

Esme ran her fingers through her son’s hair once more, “Yes, darling, you are especially good at keeping to yourself.” Edward’s eyes widened, despite Esme’s gentle touch, already aware of where her point was headed. “So much so, that I have been given the names of several child therapists to help my son through his depression. One was recommended for his exceptional work on spotting and treating the early signs of sociopathic behavior.”

Esme grabbed her son’s chin and forced him to look at her. “You have to talk to other people.”

Knocked off his high horse, Edward flinched back from Esme’s hand. “Friendship with humans never bodes well for us.”

“We’re not asking you to create lifelong friendships with humans,” Carlisle clarified, “We are simply asking you to be likable.”

“A nearly impossible feat for Edward.” Rosalie grinned. The comment went unnoticed, save Edward’s slight flinch. But the quick, little tick was satisfying enough for Rose.

“Look at your father,” Esme gestured towards Carlisle, “At every hospital he works at, he goes out of his way to ensure he is well-liked among his colleagues. He forces down countless lunches and coffees, solely to make sure they’re comfortable around him.”

Carlisle took over. “And your mother, a beloved member of her gardening club and a prized member of the PTA.”

“And neither of us have rumors started about us, and do you know why?”

All five teenagers grumbled the ingrained response. “Humans don’t want to spread rumors about people they like.”

“Exactly.” Esme nodded.

“I try!” Alice whined, “But Edward never lets me talk to any humans.”

“That’s because every, single thing that is about to come out of your mouth is incriminating. You might as well walk around with a neon sign that says, ‘I’m a psychic vampire’.”

Alice scoffed, “Is not!”

“You wanted to tell Nihal Howard not to audition for the musical.”

“And he broke his leg on opening night,” Alice challenged.  

“You were going to tell Christiana Ward that pink was not her color.”

“And she lost prom queen to Ashley Kirby.”

Jasper put a comforting hand on his wife’s knee. “Maybe try not to meddle so much, darlin’. Natural relationships, first.”

“They would have been!” Alice wailed, “I would have played it cool and casual and made friends and you all would have seen it! But everyone’s hurt and I have no friends at all because Edward won’t let me try!”

Edward rolled his eyes.

Carlisle suppressed a heavy sigh. “You have to let your sister try, Edward.”

Edward’s mouth fell open. “You cannot seriously be siding with her on this!”

But Carlisle stood his ground. He and Edward stared at one another for a few seconds, engaged in a silent conversation. In the end, Carlisle tilted his chin and Edward slumped back. Victorious, Alice used both pointer fingers to jab Edward in the side several dozen times at vampire speed.

Rosalie flipped her golden locks over her shoulder. “I don’t know how you all struggle so much. I have no issues with becoming well-liked at school while remaining inconspicuous.”

“Oh yeah, you’re so inconspicuous,” Edward grumbled, now extra-petty that he had been called out two times in one meeting. “You dress like you're on your way to brunch at your second husband’s country club in Beverly Hills and you make out with your foster brother. The perfect picture of discretion in Forks High School.”

“At least I don’t dress like a sad, old man.” Rosalie grimaced, disappointed in her comeback. The light, humorous insults that were required in family situations were Emmett’s forte; Rosalie’s insults were meant to emotionally cripple a person.

Edward sat up in his seat on the couch and turned to face Rosalie. “I think you missed the main takeaway in that you make out with your foster brother.” Edward turned back. “I can read your minds, and I still don’t understand what made either of you think it was okay to bring your relationship to school?!”

Emmett smiled, unperturbed. “It’s hot.”

“It’s disturbing,” Edward disagreed.

Esme frowned, “You kids don’t really do that, do you?”

“Would it help if Jasper and I became an official couple too?” Alice suggested.     Jasper perked up at the idea of being able to hold hands with Alice in public again.

“No!” Edward yelled at the same time Emmett and Rosalie muttered their acquiesce.

“It wouldn’t seem as weird if there were two couples,” Emmett agreed.

Edward dug his fingers through his hair. “Oh my god!”

“...maybe not, kids,” Esme intervened, but was ultimately ignored.

“So should we come out today like it happened over the summer, or make a little show out of it?” Alice asked Rosalie.

Rosalie waved a hand in the air. “Oh, it’s way more fun if you play up the theatrics.”

“A little more realistic, too,” Emmett agreed.

Alice looked to Jasper for his opinion. “It might be better if we were discreet about it,” she said. “Like we knew it was wrong, but we wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of our love.”

Jasper scooted forward to the edge of his seat. “Or we could let it be quiet and drawn out. Let others see our mutual pining, and root for us to be together.”

Gazing deep into the golden eyes of her soulmate, Alice sighed, “I love that.”

“If people wanted us to get together, it would normalize Emmett and Rosalie’s relationship.”

“Or Rosalie and Emmett could stop,” Edward suggested, bitterly. “That would be normal, too.”

“Oh, Edward,” Alice patted his shoulder, “You’ll find love someday, too.”

“That is not at all what bothers me about the situation.”

Carlisle made the decision for everyone. “Rosalie and Emmett, break up at school. Alice and Jasper, remain friends and siblings.”

Disappointment filtered into the room through Jasper.  

“I heard that,” Edward grumbled at someone’s thoughts.

“You were supposed to,” Rosalie shot back.

“We are also initiating a new rule,” Esme brought the room back to the conversation at hand, “No more correcting your teachers.”

A chorus of complaints rang from the couch.

Esme clicked her tongue, “I’m tired of defending you all from entirely preventable issues. I have emails from curious teachers wondering why my foster daughter is taking French 101, when she already appears to be fluent.” Esme looked at Rosalie, who immediately tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Or why my son, at the tender age of sixteen, could not only deadlift three hundred pounds in his first weightlifting class, but also give his coach tips on improving his posture.”

Emmett glanced over at Edward before he realized Esme was, in fact, addressing him. “What!?”

Jasper snorted. The sound was a mistake, for it brought Esme’s wrath onto him. “And not to mention the emails from not one, not two, but three teachers warning me that my foster son has an intimate understanding of the mechanics of a point fifty-eight caliber rifle-musket.” Esme held out her hands, almost pleadingly, “How does that subject keep coming up, Jasper?”

A noncommittal grunt was the only answer Jasper had for that question.

“No more,” she commanded. “You can get good grades but keep your extra knowledge on any subject to yourself. Whatever your teacher teaches is all you know. Understand?”

“But what if we—” Edward started.

“Understand?” Esme repeated.

The five teenage vampires understood, even if they didn’t want to. 

“I believe that all five of you will graduate from Forks High School!” Esme cheered.

The kids stared back, unable to muster the zeal Esme had over the prospect.

“Meeting adjourned!” Carlisle announced, and faster than fast vampire speed, the kids bolted from their seats. 

Esme was able to get in a few more reminders as her children flitted around the house and filed out to the silver Volvo.  “Remember to buy lunch with cash and not your credit cards. Emmett, please do not joke about being mauled by a bear. Do not address your teachers by their first names—I don’t care if you’re older than they are, Edward. Alice, please wear something a bit more causal, pet.”

When the house was finally empty, Carlisle pulled Esme backwards into his chest and began massaging her temples. The gesture wasn’t needed, but any touch from her husband was always welcome.

“Do you think they’ll listen?” she asked her husband.

“Not a chance.”

[phoenixyfriend]

Uncle Ben and Little Luke

AKA we combine several types of time travel for maximum Soft Chaos, let’s go

EDIT NOW THAT I’VE WRITTEN THIS UP: jfc this ended up much angstier than initially intended uhhhhhhhhhh sorry

So a common enough thing I’ve seen in time travel fics is characters getting de-aged when tossed back physically, to neither the age they should be in that time, nor the age they were from the time they left, but whatever is most convenient. This is usually de-aging OT Obi-Wan into his TCW self, for reasons relating to, chiefly, removing the damage of Tatooine absolutely destroying his body alongside PTSD-driven alcoholism, but also because fic writers are horny, and Ewan McGregor playing a late-thirties negotiator is on average more appealing to people than Alec Guinness playing a vaguely feral desert hermit.

So, here’s how it plays out:

We take Luke and Ben from some point in the OT. There are a variety of options depending on how angsty we want it to be. My first instinct is ‘right after Owen and Beru die’ but I want to have that sweet angst where Luke knows that his dad is Vader and that Obi-Wan was trying to convince him to kill his own father without telling him that.

We’ll go with shortly after Bespin, and then they end up significantly before TPM. The Obi-Wan of the timeline proper is, eh, let’s say eighteen. Not really ready to be a knight, but old enough that we don’t have to worry about “if we go save Shmi, do we somehow wipe out Anakin?” which is absolutely a worry. Anakin is a toddler, and is in no place to be evil, on account of being literally two years old. He can’t even explode people with his brain yet.

Now, Ben finds himself mid-thirties, as is traditional. He’s not upset at this, because his joints hurt so much less than they used to! His knees aren’t exactly teenage-perfect, but by the Force are they better than they were in the years before he died! His hair has color! He doesn’t have arthritis! And, goodness, no physical withdrawal symptoms! The psychological aspect is still there, but nonetheless, he’s in much better shape than he last remembers being.

Luke looks like he’s about six. He was recently twenty-two. This is not an upgrade. Ben keeps having to carry him. He can’t see over the counter when they enter a bar for information. He can’t enter the bar in the first place. He’s very annoyed by all of this.

Ben is not annoyed. Ben is having a lot of emotions, actually, but annoyance isn’t one of them. He didn’t get to help raise Luke the way he might have if Anakin hadn’t lost his shit, okay, he sees a small Luke and he wants to hug him and cry.

Luke would like to be able to purchase a speeder part without the lady at the stall asking him if he needs his “dad’s” permission.

Once they figure out when and where they are, they need to decide where and how to leave. There are general shenanigans to gamble their way into enough money to hire a ship. They are in the ass end of nowhere, but definitely not Tatooine. There appears to be a jungle. There appears to be a significant variety of man-eating creatures. There appears to be a temple to the Force of questionable origin. None of this is actually helpful, except for the moment they find a “baby’s first lightsaber” in the temple.

Luke only has one hand and, being a six-year-old, his body is growing too fast for him to bother with getting a wired-in prosthesis the way he could as an adult. He can get a more basic prosthesis, but nothing that attaches to the neurons. He’ll outgrow it too fast.

He’s tiny and he’s not used to doing things with just one hand. He uses the Force to do what one hand can't, and every time someone tries to tell him he's misusing the Force he whaps them with the empty sleeve.

So, you know, they find out what year it is. Ben has a breakdown. Luke is upset that he left behind his friends. Ben admits to him that Leia was his twin. Luke stares in horror because dude, she kissed him, you couldn’t have mentioned this earlier???

Ben points out that Beru and Owen were keeping Luke away from him for nineteen years, and then they had about three days of awkward travel to find Leia in the first place, and then Ben died. He didn’t have a whole lot of time to figure out how to tell him.

(This sparks an argument that lasts several days. All onlookers assume that Ben’s son is throwing a tantrum. He doesn’t correct them, even though this is a very valid reason to be upset, because the truth is much harder to explain.)

Sooooo they travel. Mostly, Ben plays Sabacc, cleans house, and pays their way towards Coruscant. Luke still really wants to learn to be a Proper Jedi, even though Ben is pretty sure that Luke would have... a lot of difference of opinion with the Temple, but sure. Coruscant. They can at least stop by, and see Qui-Gon, and Mace, and Quinlan, and Bant, and everyone else that’s still alive and not tragically deceased in the horror following the start of the Clone Wars and then the birth of the Empire, and Ben can have a nice sob over all his dead friends being alive again.

Ben is only barely holding it together while Luke is in the room with him at any given point. But it’s fine! It’s fine. He’s fine. All of his loved ones have come back to life! It’s great! HE’S FINE.

He is not fine.

Luke is also grieving all the people who haven’t been born yet, but he’s... significantly more okay than Ben is.

The closer they get to the Core, the more often people just assume Ben is Luke’s father, and then look shocked and uncomfortable when Luke flatly calls him by his name, and they just... compromise. This is the point at which Luke starts calling him “Uncle Ben.”

Ben cries in his bunk later that night. Luke overhears it and wonders how the HELL Ben is more unstable now, when there’s a chance to fix things and no Vader or Empire trying to kill or capture both of them, and all his friends are alive.

(Luke will later learn a lot about PTSD and realize this is actually a fairly normal situation, to process significant events and emotions only after gaining safety or catharsis.)

(Twenty years on a ball of sand with an alcohol addiction and debilitating fear of the man you raised as your own brother is not, in fact, safe or cathartic.)

At any rate, they’ve settled into that pattern by the time they reach the Inner Rim. The Inner Rim is the part of the galaxy at which they’ve collected enough money (and mental stability) to travel a little better, and to take a few more risks.

Risks like “manipulate people with those baby blues.”

Ben tells Luke that he’s a menace, after he pouts so cutely that he gets a free scarf added on to a purchase that Ben makes. Luke responds that Ben has no room to talk, since he flirted a free breakfast out of that one inn owner.

Also, Luke is currently physically six. That is objectively a situation that sucks. He deserves to use it for all it’s worth if he’s stuck like this.

“You know, if you keep wearing all-black and looking longingly at the velvet cape and Space Chanel boots, the temple is going to worry that you’re a darksider.”

“Uncle Ben... you told me, yesterday, that I sparkle so brightly in the Force that it’s almost blinding.”

“Yes, but the gloves--”

They don’t agree on this, but Ben relents. He does actually understand good fashion, unfortunately, and he’s not unaware of how much Leia taught Luke about such things.

Luke’s about forty years ahead of the curve, of course, but Skywalkers are prone to such things. It’s usually in regards to technology, granted, but...

They get to Coruscant. Ben is very obviously a Jedi. He knows all the right words and walks like a Soresu master and feels warm and comforting in the Force. They let him in with minimal questions. They note down “my first padawan left the order to have a child, but died shortly after; I consider Luke here to be my nephew, and have raised him as such,” and move on.

Luke is vaguely annoyed because he already had an uncle (and aunt) that raised him, but he admits that a person can have more than one uncle. He can live with this. Ben was more family to Anakin than Owen was, in some ways, so it’s kind of true. Luke is even working on feeling more childish affection for Ben instead of the complicated mess of emotions that come from being lied to about some very large and important subjects, and then seeing the person saying those lies have regular emotional breakdowns due to something as small as Luke saying he likes the curve of the hull on that freighter.

(Apparently he sounds just like his father did as a child. This is almost heartwarming.)

The thing is! The thing. The thing is, they almost make it to the Halls of Healing to get looked over for weird viruses, or Outer Rim Parasites, or whatever the hells needs to be happening. They almost make it without Ben having a flashback to dead younglings or brainwashed troopers or the declaration of a Sith Empire. They almost make it without incident.

Then Ben sees Qui-Gon, and freezes, and does not move again.

Luke cannot get him to restart.

People are staring.

They haven’t even made it to Medical, Uncle Ben, come on.

Young, local Obi-Wan comes over and asks if there’s something he can do to help. Or maybe this “Ben” knows Qui-Gon? Master Jinn doesn’t recognize Ben, but maybe Luke knows more?

Luke does know more, but what Luke actually says is “he probably needs a mind healer.”

(Ben will not appreciate this.)

(Ben is unfortunately standing in the middle of the hallway and completely unresponsive, and is unable to argue with this assertion.)

(Ben is pretty much proving this assertion entirely correct, actually.)

Obi-Wan is helpful, if a little bitchy in the manner of most late-teens individuals, and offers to help get Uncle Ben down to the Halls of Healing. It involves Obi-Wan gently pushing on Ben’s shoulders, and Qui-Gon offering to carry Luke so he can be in Ben’s sights (because Ben is a Mystery, and Qui-Gon is quite fond of those, so he wants to stay involved). Ben kind of just... shuffles on down.

There are medical tests. They ask about how Luke lost his hand. He refuses to talk about it. They ask how Ben got all his scars. Luke says he doesn’t know. They ask if he knows why Ben looks like he’s been through a war. Luke says it’s because he probably was.

They check for foreign viruses. They find evidence of thus-far-unpatented vaccinations. They ask Luke if he knows what he’s vaccinated for.

“How would I know? I’m six.”

They agree that this is a good excuse.

(It is not. He’s lying. They do not know this.)

They do some more tests. They find a lot of questionable medical bullshit in Ben’s body. Most of this is from the clone wars, but they don’t know this. Someone realizes they haven’t gotten a ping back from the Shadow Network regarding “do we have permission to pull the medical file of a Jedi that isn’t in the normal database? We’re assuming you know who he is, since we don’t.”

The Shadow Network does not know who Ben is.

The healers, of course, go “huh, that’s weird, but maybe the name he gave his nephew was fake. We can’t exactly ask ‘Ben’ for more details right now. We already had to sedate him. Let’s check the DNA!”

The DNA pulls up as Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The padawan who brought this guy in two hours ago.

“Huh, that’s weird. Let’s call in Kenobi and ask if he knows what’s going on.”

Obi-Wan absolutely does not know what’s going on.

They ask Luke.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, lying through his teeth and not even pretending otherwise.

“You’re not a very good liar,” teenage Obi-Wan tells him.

“I’m not trying to be,” Luke says. “Can you get Master Yoda? I feel like we’re going to need him.”

They normally wouldn’t get Yoda on the request of a six-year-old, but they also normally don’t have a catatonic thirty-something Jedi who looks like he’s been through a war popping up in the medical database as the pimply teenage padawan that broke his pinky trying to do a Badass Ataru Flip last week.

Or... whatever Luke i... is... oh dear.

“Young one,” Qui-Gon asks, while people whisper-shout behind him, not realizing he’s cutting the Correlian Knot and just asking the kid himself. “Do you know why your midichlorian count is so high? It’s almost unheard of.”

“Uncle Ben said my dad was the Chosen One,” Luke says, because he is capable of being a little shit and is actually really eager to let Ben deal with some of the fallout. He feels for the man, really, but he’s also tired of being the one to field every single question.

Also, the expressions that pass on Qui-Gon’s face are hilarious.

(Luke may or may not be more affected by his six-year-old brain than he would like to admit.)

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon says, sounding more than a little strangled about it.

It takes another three hours for Ben to wake up.

He listens to the questions. He hears what they say his ‘nephew’ said. He looks at Luke.

“Is this revenge for not telling you about Leia?”

“It’s not revenge,” Luke does not lie. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

“It’s pretty easy to explain.”

“It’s not my secret.”

“This is revenge for the Leia thing.”

“No,” Luke says. “Revenge for the Leia thing was when I ate a live frog in front of you.”

This is the point at which someone interrupts and points out that they appear to be stalling.

“Oh, he is,” Luke tells them. He gestures at Ben. “I can’t tell you more, because it’s more his story than mine.”

“I’m afraid, Master, that I am very likely to have an emotional breakdown if I allow myself to consider the reality of this situation for longer than the fraction of a second I already have,” Ben reports, full of false cheer. “Suffice to say, I am far from stable and have only held out this far for Luke’s sake.”

“Can you explain why you have my DNA?” Obi-Wan asks, as the person who’s most concerningly involved in this situation.

“You can,” Ben says, smiling like there is absolutely nothing wrong in the slightest, ever. “I’m you, from the future. I actually died and spent a few years dead before coming back. I’m not sure why I’m younger than I was when I died, but I appreciate being able to put on my shoes without my knees attempting to mutiny.”

“He needs a mind healer,” Luke reiterates, in case the strained grin hasn’t made it clear. “So do I, but not as much.”

“I have felt literally every person in this Temple save for Luke and Yoda die,” Ben reports, looking a shade more manic than a few seconds earlier. “It’s very overwhelming to feel you all being alive again. I may be approaching a mental breakdown, and I’ve been rather strictly advised against using alcohol to treat my traumas again.”

Luke kicks him in the thigh. It’s not a very hard kick, because he is very small, and he does actually like Ben. “I’m not letting you turn into an old drunk again.”

After several seconds of silence, a healer quietly suggests that everyone clear the room, and asks if someone could fetch Master Yoda as the youngling requested.

(THIS IS ALMOST THREE THOUSAND WORDS. I started it less than two hours ago. Why am I like this.)

[benditlikepress]

one good movie kiss

here for @sunforgrace 's thesis statement: give dean one good movie kiss and he WILL be alright

“Are you avoiding me?”

Dean’s hand stills in the air above his cup of coffee as the voice cuts through the kitchen.

Cas is standing in the middle of the room in an ill-fitting sweater and his hair is dishevelled as though he’s been tossing and turning. He looks so unremarkable, so human, it makes Dean’s breath catch in his throat at the reminder.

It’s been three days since Cas got back and it occurs to Dean when he speaks that it’s the first time they’ve been alone together. Awake, that is: Dean realised early on that difficult conversations couldn’t happen if you’re asleep. Thank god for Cas’ Empty-rescue hangover.

“No. I’m not avoiding you.”

“OK. Good. I was worried that after what happened things might be weird between us, but I suppose that’s unavoidable.” Cas pulls a face that’s a little self-deprecating.

I’m fighting the urge to run the hell away from you, Dean thinks. To stay the hell away from you before I do anything else to hurt you. Before you make a reckless decision to save me, again, or say something so brutal and true that my legs give out from under me and I’m left sitting alone on the floor wondering how the hell I’m supposed to do this on my own.

I’m fighting the urge to wrap you in my arms and never let go.

“I’m not avoiding you, Cas. I just.. I’m trying to figure out the stuff I have to say to you.”

“I understand. I know everything that’s happened recently is a lot to contend with.”

“Yeah, that’s an understatement.” Dean coughs and stands up, tapping his hands against his legs for something to do. Cas is looking at him expectantly and Dean knows he deserves answers but how is he supposed to do that? How do you even begin to explain to someone that their mere presence in the room has your breath hitching? “But it’s not.. you. It’s not you I’m avoiding. It’s just. Y’know. The stuff you said before you..” He doesn’t say it. He can’t. Cas blinks.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. That’s – god, that’s the last thing I want. I’m just.. trying to get my head around it.”

“I meant it.”

“I know you did. I know that. I just.. I believe you, and nobody’s ever really said that stuff to me and meant it before. So I don’t really know how to talk to you about it. But I.. so long as you know I appreciate it.” The words are too fast and Dean doesn’t know if that’s more or less embarrassing than the way he’s stumbling, pathetic half-words forcing their way out of his mouth.

“OK.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

And it’s that simple to him, apparently. He doesn’t ask Dean for anything else. It pisses Dean off, actually – he wants Cas to ask him. Maybe if he’s forced to confront it the words might come out a little easier.

“I mean, you know that I.” Dean stops again abruptly and jesus christ why is there a lump in his throat? “It means something. To me. It means a whole lot, actually. Maybe if it didn’t it’d be easier to talk about. There’s stuff that I wanna.. stuff I need for you to hear. That you deserve to hear, when I get my head out of my ass. Because I don’t feel like I deserve any of that crap you said to me, but you deserve to hear things back.”

It feels like a monumental admission but it’s clearly not the thing on Cas’ mind as he frowns.

“You think you don’t deserve that? You really believe that?”

“Honestly? I’ve never believed it. I don’t know why you give me the time of day half the time, man. And you don’t have to.. argue about it, or anything. I know you want to. It’s just how I see it.”

Cas thinks about that for a couple of seconds, eyes boring into Dean so deeply he half-wonders if he can’t still see his soul. He walks further into the room but doesn’t approach Dean – not really. Just takes a couple of steps between the distance.

“I won’t argue. Not now. But I hope I can make you understand that you deserve it. Happiness, peace.. love-” The word has Dean’s mind reeling, flashbacks and heat rushing “– I spent a long time believing I couldn’t accept them for myself. I thought too much had happened, or that I wasn’t built to be capable. You allowed me to think differently. I want you to do the same.” Cas looks down and taps his hand on the edge of the table as though he hasn’t got Dean’s heart in the palm of it. He looks up again and his expression is breath-takingly earnest. “Dean, the things I said barely touch the sides. I don’t know if I could ever put into words the impact you’ve had on me since we met. I just wanted you to understand. I needed you to understand how other people see you, even if you can’t see it for yourself.”

“Message received.” Dean responds like a fucking asshole but Cas smiles all the same, warm and knowing and in a way that fills Dean with the relief of being understood.

“I can give you space to think about things if that’s what you want. I know I’ve put you in a difficult position.”

“It’s not difficult. Probably not for anyone else except me.”

Dean smiles in derision and Cas returns it but it’s pity and sadness and love and Dean’s mouth closes. “It was difficult. I threw things at you that’d been on my mind for a long time and didn’t give you any time to process it.”

“I’ve had weeks. Weeks and weeks, and I still can’t.. I think until I saw you again I had no idea how to understand it. Looking you in the eye and thinking about it-” Dean closes his eyes and pushes away black ooze and secrets and everything else that threatens to flow over the things he wants to remember. Tears in Cas’ eyes and his smile so bright, brighter than Dean even thought him capable.

He’s looking at him now like he might break.

“I’m sorry, Cas. I know I’m not-”

“I know exactly what you are, Dean.” The words are clear and sincere and Dean wonders if there’s anyone else in the universe capable of arresting him so simply. “I’ll leave you to it.” Cas eventually nods at Dean’s breakfast and smiles, dipping his head as he starts to leave.

“We’ll talk. We will.”

“I know we will.” He smiles a little as he turns to walk away and suddenly Dean’s heart is in his mouth at the sight of the back of his head.

Say something. Say something.

“Cas.” Dean calls too quickly, too desperately, and when he turns to look at him with naked expectation all of the wind is knocked right back out of his sails. “I… fuck, Cas. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He smiles with complete and utter sincerity, and god he has to stop doing that. Stop accepting Dean’s bullshit as though it’s nothing. Shout, argue, anything.

He’s leaving. He’s still leaving, he’s turning away and suddenly Dean’s legs are propelling him through the kitchen of their own accord.

Dean grabs his arm and yanks him around, the force of it making Cas briefly stumble a little before he straightens his feet and looks at Dean with a wide-eyed confusion that makes Dean’s heart hammer in his chest.

Dean brings his hands up to cup Cas’ face around his ears on his neck and jaw, in a way he has before and convinced himself wasn’t ever possible when they weren’t battling life or death. Cas’ stubble is a little longer than usual and he strokes the line of it with his thumb, watching as Cas’ mouth falls open just a touch in the echoing silence.

Dean takes his time, registering every mini-movement of expression in Cas’ face as he understands what’s happening. His hand comes up to Dean’s wrist but doesn’t push it away, rather grips it for dear life as though he’s afraid it’s going to disappear. When Cas’ eyes travel down his face Dean takes it as invitation and closes the gap between them, pressing his lips lightly but surely against Cas’.

At first Cas’ are stunned frozen against his and Dean starts to panic that he’s made some kind of earth-shattering error in judgement before the hand on his wrist relaxes and he feels a pressure against his mouth. Cas’ lips are a little chapped, like always, and Dean feels his eyelashes flutter.

He opens his eyes reluctantly as he pulls away, not sure what he’s expecting to see (rejection? Lucifer? nothing at all?) and almost slams them shut again when he finds Cas peering at him with such utter arresting devotion he thinks his knees might buckle.

Dean’s hands drop to his sides of their own accord, suddenly absolutely terrified, but Cas doesn’t move away in return. In fact, he brings his hand to Dean’s cheek and Dean’s sure he must look like a fish opening and closing his mouth in stunned silence before suddenly Cas moves in to kiss him again, other hand coming up to grab his face and hold him in place as his lips are ferocious and impassioned against his own.

And this, this is more like it, Dean’s barely able to think as Cas’ mouth opens and his tongue plays along the line of Dean’s own lips, his heart hammering in his chest as he hears a noise in Cas’ throat as he allows him entrance.

Cas kisses like he’s never going to get another chance: like Dean has granted him a once-in-a-lifetime wish that’s going to get taken away at any moment. He’s hungry and sharp and warm and Dean feels breathless as he lowers his hands from his face to his neck and then to his hip, pulling Dean sharply against him as Dean’s own hands cup his jaw and try desperately to gain a semblance of control.

There’s stubble scratching his face and he tries fleetingly to explain away the flushing burn on his skin as a by-product of it, but then there’s a hand riding up his shirt onto on the bare skin at the small of his back and it’s on fire.

Where the hell did Cas learn to kiss like this? His head is spinning before he can ponder the question and fingers on his back are steady and grounding even as Cas’ tongue and lips and breath have him practically able to feel the earth spinning beneath him.  

The kiss slows steadily and then all at once as Cas’ lips lighten against his, and he feels him exhale against his skin in a release that Dean himself is desperate for. He knows it’ll come, eventually: in every moment he allows himself to open like this, touch on his skin making him feel alive.

Cas pulls away and Dean feels a longing form deeply and harshly in his throat that barely stops him from yanking him straight back in again. He forces himself to open his eyes, wondering if Cas can see water pricking in the corners of them.

“Don’t give me space, Cas. I don’t want it.” He manages to say though his voice sounds foreign and weird to his own ears, like it’s formed by someone else. There’s that smile on Cas’ lips again and he feels a desperation to say something, anything, that’ll keep it frozen in time. “Just stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know.” Cas’ own voice is quiet now and Dean’s fingers somehow find themselves reaching out towards Cas’ hand, pulling it a little.

“You wanna do something today?” He says, just for something to say. Anything to prolong the moment.

“OK.”

“Sweet.” Dean nods and tips his head away, running a hand through his hair to try to gain some composure as Cas smiles at him as though nothing’s happened.

Dean has to pinch himself to check that it has.