#and stede pulled it out and he held it so gently..

[bugboybutter]

“you wear fine things well” will forever be the most tender thing anyone’s ever said ever. it’s everything

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

How about a mini fic about the first time Ed asks Stede to help him with his hair care routine? Sorry you're feeling down. 🫂

It was fine. It was fine. It was fine. Ed wasn't going to freak out. Everything was -

"Fuck," Ed squeaked, nearly jumping out of his skin just from the gentle brush of Stede's hand along the side of his neck.

Stede sighed softly, leaning forward to rest his chin on the rim of the bathtub, lightly bonking their foreheads together. "Do we want to try this another time, do we think?"

"But I won't need to wash my hair again until next week," Ed whined, "and I want you to help me now."

It wasn't that Ed mistrusted Stede. It wasn't that he thought Stede would hurt him.

But letting someone else touch his hair was scary. He was used to guys trying to pull it or yank on it or make fun of him for it. And his hair was dear to him.

No matter how bad things got, Ed took good care of his hair. It was something that made him feel better even on the worst possible days.

"Even offering to let me wash it tonight is a big step," Stede reminded him gently, taking Ed's hand where his fingers were clenched around the rim of the tub.

Ed supposed that was true. Since they'd moved in together, Ed had been letting Stede in on this little routine, in stops and starts and uneven jolts, trusting that Stede wouldn't think it was too soft or use it to hurt him.

There was so much for Stede to learn. He'd been shocked to learn that Ed's hair could actually be damaged if it was washed too frequently. He'd nodded along when Ed explained that he couldn't use the same products as Stede used in his hair, and that he needed things like leave-in conditioner and moisturizers, and that his hair needed to be put in a protective style like braids before bed.

But Stede had been nothing if not an eager and attentive learner. He'd actually taken notes the last time they went shopping for personal hygeine products.

And it was that knowledge that made Ed resolve that he was going to let Stede wash his hair tonight.

"Alright," he declared, and he relaxed down into the tub with an exagerrated sigh.

"Going to touch your shoulder, first," Stede said, after a moment, and with the advance warning, Ed just hummed happily at the feel of Stede's warm, gentle hands on his body. Stede's hands worked slowly up his neck, until he was gently gathering Ed's hair up, running his fingers through it, praising the softness.

Stede did the routine exactly as Ed had explained it, muttering the steps aloud to himself as he went. He had Ed help him wet his hair, and then worked in his shampoo and conditioner, massaging Ed's scalp until Ed was a purring puddle of goo in the tub.

He couldn't believe he'd been missing out on this.

It was almost unbelievable, how careful Stede was being with him. When he rinsed Ed's hair with water, using a cup to rinse in sections, he held a hand over Ed's forehead to keep the water from getting into his eyes.

Blackbeard, sitting in a tub, his boyfriend making sure water didn't get in his eyes as he washed his hair. Who'd have thought it?

When Stede brushed his hair, working through any tangles from washing it, he was so incredibly gentle that it made tears gather in Ed's eyes. Ed took amazing care of his hair, of course he did, but he was never this gentle with himself. He was okay with pulling a bit or being a bit rough on any tangles to get them out faster. Stede took his time, though, making sure Ed never experienced even a hint of discomfort.

"Stede," Ed managed to squeak out about halfway through, "I love you so much, man, so fucking much."

"Oh, darling, I love you, too," Stede said, pausing his brushing only long enough to kiss Ed's cheek. "I can't wait to do this again on your next wash day."

Imagine that. That Stede found taking care of Ed to be such a privilege he was looking forward to it.

Ed let his body relax into his bathwater, closing his eyes, feeling as light and happy as the suds gathering along the water, and he resolved to make sure to memorize Stede's hair care routine, too.

[thebest-medicine]

Day 21: New Discovery

Tickletober 2023 - Our Flag Means Death - Stede / Ed - lee!Ed

[see my other tickletober 2023 fics]

[read on AO3]

A/N: I’m weak for season 2 and I need soft sweet moments between them forever and ever. This is very late yes shhh #Tickletober2023butits2024

Words: 750

—

Stede slowly blinked open his eyes. There was a warmth next to him, it felt so inviting. He reached out, clumsy with the fog of sleep, until his hand met the warm skin of Ed’s shoulder. He sighed, content, wrapping the arm further around his bedmate. Ed sleepily turned to face him, eyes closed with a smile on his face.

“G’mrning.” Ed mumbled. He reached up with one hand to run a thumb over Stede’s fingers.

Nestled in the blankets, they whispered stories and ideas with each other for a long, drawn-out half hour, during which Ed had the pleasure of Stede’s soft affection - a hand twirling his hair, fingers traipsing gently down his arms, it felt safe. It felt like home.

Stede scratched just behind Ed’s ear and he nearly let out a purr. Fingers glided down Ed’s neck, leaving a grin and a shiver in their wake.

Stede smiled fondly. “Ah, ticklish?”

“Dunno mate.” Ed shrugged, a bit impeded by their current position. “I guess.”

Stede raised a brow, smile somehow both terribly endeared and a yet little sad. “You don’t know?”

Ed mumbled a confirmation, nuzzling a bit closer to Stede.

“Right, right. Who would try to tickle the great Blackbeard, hm?” Stede said, his eyes scanning down Ed’s body. He reached out cautiously, and brushed a finger, gentle and slow, over the skin just above Ed’s night pants, watching him with a blooming curiosity.

“Heh-” There was that shiver again, Ed’s eyes shooting open. They flicked from Stede’s hand to his face.

Stede’s smile was warm, playful. “I think you are, in fact…” Stede paused then. Ed was watching him, wide-eyed. Stede held his hand up. “Listen, say the word and I’ll stop, okay? Is it alright if I give it a try?”

Ed felt warmth blossoming along his cheeks. He rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, wriggling onto his back and pulled his arms up over his head. “Sure, mate. Go nuts.”

But, loyal to the gentle nature of their morning, Stede did not in fact ‘go nuts’. Instead, he traced a few fingers, soft and wiggling, across Ed’s stomach.

Ed’s stomach sunk beneath the touch, sucking in as he snickered out a laugh. His arms twitched with the desire to pull down and protect himself. “Ehehe, Stede.”

Stede paused. “Is that you asking me to stop?”

Ed squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the sensation a bit with the added benefit of not having to watch Stede watching him. “Did I say stop?” He answered after a few beats.

“No, you didn’t.” Stede hummed, pleased, and then Ed gasped as fingers pinched lightly at each of his sides. He sucked in a breath, wobbly with near laughter.

“Ticklish anywhere else, hmm?” Stede asked, trailing his fingers up to poke gently along Ed’s ribs.

He squirmed at that, wriggling side to side in an effort to alleviate the sensation and keep the tangle of laughter building up inside him, well, inside. It was a hopeless endeavor by the time Stede’s fingers traced their way up, up, up… Two fingers touched down in the center of each armpit and Ed’s arms came crashing down with a giggly shout of surprise.

“Oh! Oh shit. Ehehe— wait!” Ed giggled, and Stede pulled back right away.

“Alright there?” Stede asked with a bemused but cautious smile.

“Fine. Heh, just kinda, surprising.” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck when he could get his arms peeled away from his sides. “Feels… weird.”

“Oh, it’s all in good fun. I know plenty of folks don’t like it though, I won’t do it again—”

“No! No.” Ed stammered. He took a breath, and a few ghosts of giggles slipped out. “It’s, uh, good fun, yeah, like you said.”

Stede practically beamed at him. “Mm.” He ran a hand gently down the side of Ed’s face, tracing along that chin he loved.

Ed’s heart nearly swelled from the sweetness of the moment. He thought it might burst. An out, quickly. “What about you, then, hm?”

Stede raised an eyebrow.

“Are you ticklish?” Ed smirked.

Stede’s nervous grin and blush were answer enough.

Soon, they were scrambling about the bed with laughter and shrieks and wiggling fingers. It would be a while before either of them received any morning briefing from the crew.

[stedebonnit]

Its seasonal depression season and I'm thinking about the crew sailing up north for the winter because Stede has never seen snow having grown up in Barbados, and I'm thinking about him being so excited at first when he sees the snow comkng down, feels the cool breeze and the snowflakes on his tongue, but over the shortening days, Stede's mood starts to dip, and he finds himself in this sort of anhedonia.

He finds it harder and harder to get out of bed, sleeping through the days, barely eating anything. He suddenly cant bring himself to feel happy or excited, he hasnt smiled in weeks, and he doesn't care to do all the things he'd planned to do once they got to the snow.

Stede feels this panic, deep down, because this is so similar to how he felt with Mary, trapped in a space that never fit him, a deep melancholy weighing him down.

He has Ed now, and he knows its different. He loves Ed, that hasnt changed, but underneath the ever-present fog he feels this terror, a fear that he'll drive Ed off, make him resent Stede just like his wife did. He's tired, boring, and crabby, he can't imagine anyone wanting to be around him when hes like this. He doesn't even want to be around himself like this. He doesnt understand why he feels this way, and he doesn't know how to fix it.

With Mary, he'd always known deep down that leaving would fix the way he felt, it was the guilt of what that meant that held him back for so long. Its different, now. Everything he's ever wanted, everything he knows he still wants, is just beyond the cabin door, but he can't find an ounce of motivation within himself. He wants to go out, to show the crew, to show Edward that he cares, that he's more than this, but he feels stuck in the bed, staring blankly out the window, too tired to even cry. He doesn't want to fall into apathy again, but he feels himself slipping beneath his fingers with each passing day that he can't force himself out of bed to join Ed and the crew.

Ed doesnt resent him. He's worried for Stede, of course, but he knows that this is different than it was with Mary. After a few weeks of silence, Ed bringing Stede his food in bed each day, taking care of Stede, Ed decides its time for a change. Gently, and so very patiently Ed coaxes Stede out of bed for the first time in a week, he helps Stede dress himself, his movements sluggish, his expression blank, and wraps an arm around him as they walk out of the cabin to join the crew out on the wintery deck.

The crew greets him with smiles, and though he cant bring himself to smile back, he manages a short wave and some simple nods. As Ed settles him down on a barrel, surrounded by the crew, a patient audience to Stede's return, he feels the sting of the winter breeze hit his face. Stede he can't bring himself to care, but luckily, Edward does, and the moment he sees Stedes cheeks tinge red, he pulls off his scarf and wraps it around Stede's neck with such care.

The Swede asks "Can you read to us, Captain? We've missed you."

Stede suddenly tears up, gratitude and shame warring with each other in his mind, bringing out the painful sadness that has been simmering for weeks under the surface. He's touched that the crew has thought of him, that he matters enough to be missed, but Stede doesn't have it in him to read them a story. Right now he can't even bring himself to communicate with more than a nod or a shake of his head, so in that moment he blinks back the tears and shakes his head, curling himself into Ed for warmth.

The crew understands, and instead he sits and listens to Lucius reading them stories (Ed does the voices, because Lucius can't).

Each day after that, Ed helps Stede dress himself, walks him to the table for breakfast instead of bringing it to him in bed, he helps him to tidy the cabin, just a small amount each day. Stede is still weighed down by the fog, but getting himself moving helps to make it bearable, if only a bit. Ed is patient with him, encouraging him to try at least one thing each day, but never pushing him to do too much.

Eventually, they decide to sail back down south. Its not pleasant being out in the winter, and Stede is too depressed to do any of the winter activities they'd planned.

A few weeks later, as the days become longer again, Stede feels the fog begin to lift, inch by inch. He knows its real when he watches the sun rising through the cabin window before pulling himself out of bed without the need for Ed's gentle encouragement. Its the first time hes been out of bed before midday in weeks. Thats when he notices, for the first time in weeks, that a smile has crept onto his lips. Stede runs to find Edward, collapsing into his arms, and Ed holds him as he weeps with relief. The fog has lifted, and they survived it together.

[snormynight]

Last night I binged all of OF//MD. I cannot believe what I was missing out on. But now I get a short wait time for S2 heehee. Anyway please accept my drabble.

The Salt in the air dips down and swirls around on the deck with the wind, and the deck in turn creaks in time with the gentle bob of the sea. The ocean is void of activity, lucky for the crew who lay about with their various activities and luckier for their captains, who are nestled together in the berth below.

The air wafts in through the open window, entangling itself with Ed’s bountiful locks. He’s propped up on the bed, supporting his head with one hand while the other runs through his boyfriend's own tufts of hair. Stede Bonnet is laid out flat on his back, chest rising and falling with a low crackle in his breath. He sleeps with a small pout to his lips and a crease between his eyebrows. He's waxy and sallow, and yet, Ed’s own breath catches at his beauty. He's worried, really he is, but there's something so peaceful here, hidden away from the rest of the crew. Ed is almost grateful for the excuse. Almost.

He's broken out of his lovesick daze when Stede starts to squirm against the sheets, inhaling a shaky breath through his mouth. He groans pitifully, bringing a hand up to rub at his eyes. The other fumbles around for something. Ed catches it, rubbing a thumb across Stedes hand gently. Stede rolls over toward him, longing to be close and places it in Ed’s lap. The man smiles down at the poorly one.

“How are we then, Stede?” 

Stede is rarely silent, but he almost considers a vow today. He feels like he's drowning, in his head at least, and he tries to sniff to alleviate the pressure there. It's soupy and thick; does nothing for him except grate along the walls of his nostrils. He lugs himself into an upright position and his nose starts to run. He only gets a squinty, too-bright-to-see glance at his boyfriend before his eyes snap shut, and he gasps for another breath, this time involuntarily.

“eh-hih! HeHnxt! Hep-chuh!!”

He thinks he's done and sniffs long and hard, only to gurgle as the pressure builds again. Surely he's setting himself up for failure later.

“I'm fine,” he says, struggling to sound even remotely chipper. “I reckon i'll be right as rain soon enough.”

Ed smirks, doubting the validity in that statement and brings his cool thumbs up to rest on top of Stede’s sore eyelids,rubbing his temples gently with his other appendages. Stede sighs, mouth going slack and the pressure in his head recedes a little. He brings his shaky hands up to rest on the sturdy wrists there. 

His nose starts to quiver once more and Stede tries to scrunch his face up to stave off a sneeze. His grip tightens on Ed's wrists as his chest heaves and he ultimately has to duck his head down away from Ed's fingers to avoid drenching the man’s face.

 “ehttcheh-huh! Htchssh! hah-achshiew!”

Stede moans and slumps down, anchored by the weight of his sickness. Ed grips his biceps gently, straightening him into a more upright position, eyeing him fondly.

“Yeah, I'm thinking later rather than sooner” he tsks.

Stede just shivers in response. He's extra cognizant of Ed's hands on his arms and it's taking all his strength to not just collapse into him, begging to be held. He knows Ed needs to divert attention to more pirat-ey things. What those things are? He doesn't know. Just that this can't be the most pressing matter to him now.

The words are tumbling out of him before he can stop himself, “don't you have a crew to tend to?”

Ed shrugs. “silence, while worrying, doesn’t have to mean anything. Unless you make it something. Then I suppose it is.”

Stede swallows. Neediness and drowsiness crash into each other like waves on the sea. “Am I something?”

Ed blinks languidly. He acts so Stede doesn't have to, pulling him in and cradling him to his chest. Stede lets out a puff of air as he utterly deflates in Ed’s arms. He wants to bring his arms up to hold him, to meet him halfway, but he's beginning to melt, lulling himself with the ocean again and Ed’s heartbeat. Ed’s fingers are threading through his hair once more. 

“You're everything.”

[arun-armand-amadeo]

I posted a headcanon here that Ed would call Stede treasure so I went and wrote a short fic about it. 

Treasure - 2,407 words - AO3 Link or read below:

The first time that it happened, Stede didn’t even notice.

It had been a turbulent night as, despite the crews best efforts, they had been unable to out-sail the storm chasing them. As night creeped in, so did the rain, followed by vicious thunder and crashing waves against the ships hull. It had knocked them from side to side as towering waves pummelled down on them from above.

Ed had stayed out on the deck with a small team of their most experienced sailors whilst Stede had bunkered down below with the rest of the crew. They were all clearly terrified and worried about their friends battling the storm outside, but Stede had to put on a brave face for them despite his own rising anxieties. Every time the ship groaned loudly in protest as she was knocked about, a stab of fear struck Stede through the heart. All he could do was keep his faith in Edward and know that his co-captain and friend would do whatever it would take to keep everyone safe and sound.

Come morning, the clouds finally parted and the sun shone down on them once more. The waves were calm, gently lapping their apologies against the ship, as the crew reunited on the deck. There was substantial damage and a lot of repairs to do, but everyone was alive and miraculously uninjured.  

Stede crossed the deck with two cups of tea in his hands, one loaded with seven sugars, just as he knew his co-captain preferred. Ed was clearly haggard, body hunched over the railing as he stared with a blank expression into the horizon. There were dark bags under his eyes and a tension held in his muscles. Stede hoped a strong cuppa would help relax his friend.

“Here.” He said softly, sliding the saucer along the railing. “You look like you need it.”

Ed blinked out of wherever his mind had wandered to look down at the offering. He smiled softly. Of course the delicate china had managed to survive the worse storm The Revenge had ever faced. He picked up his tea and took a sip, eyes slipping shut in bliss.

“Perfect as always, thanks mate.” He took another sip and glanced at Stede out of the corner of his eye, looking at the man in his long golden gown. “What would I do without you, eh treasure?”

Stede had just smiled back at him. “Oh, it’s nothing. You’re the one who got us through that rather nasty storm! A cup of tea is the very least I could do.”

The second time that it happened took Stede by surprise.

Everyone was gathered in the mess hall to loudly celebrate another successful raid. Drinks were being passed around, people were singing, and everyone was feeling the merriment. Roach had even prepared an assortment of sweets and cakes with the ingredients they had also pillaged from the merchant ship they had robbed.

Stede was standing behind Wee John and Frenchie at the time, leaning slightly over their shoulders as he watched the pair engage in what they called ‘thumb wrestling’. It was a rather unusual game but enjoyable to watch. Stede much preferred this sport to the actual wrestling the crew liked to compete in from time to time. This was far less violent and nowhere near as likely to cause any serious injuries.

He was so engrossed in the display before him that he jumped at the sudden sensation of a warm hand pressed to his lower back. However, at the smell of leather and smoke that immediately followed, he relaxed. It was only Ed. The man in question lent in close, front pressed to Stede’s back, as his lips hovered next to Stede’s ear.

“Sorry treasure, just trying to squeeze by.” Came his warm voice.

As quickly as he came, he was gone again, heading across the room to refill his drink. Stede shuddered, partially from the proximity but mostly from the way Ed’s voice had dripped like honey down his spine. There was the word again. Treasure. Surely it was a mistake?  

A triumphant cheer as Wee John won the thumb wrestling pulled Stede out of his spiralling thoughts and he promptly forgot all about what was absolutely not a petname.

Stede had been drunk the third time it happened.

Well, Stede wasn’t the only one who was drunk. Everybody was very drunk, including Ed. They had decided to make another attempt at a vacation. Compared to the first time this one was far more successful. The crew were all in the ocean, swimming around and splashing at each other and just generally having a good time. The sandy beach was decorated with a half-eaten picnic and empty bottles of rum.

The only two people not in the water was Ed and Stede. The two were sat under a palm tree together, shoulders pressed snugly as they shared a bottle of wine. They had started on the rum with everybody else, but then Ed had produced a bottle of red and the two had quickly snuck away to partake in their little secret.

“I know you have a more sophisticated palate.” Ed had whispered conspiratorially as he pulled the bottle out from inside his jacket.

Right now the wine was almost gone and Stede was pleasantly buzzed. He was warm and satiated with Ed chatting nonsense next to him. There was nowhere else he’d rather be than right here in this moment.

“So what do you say, should we join the others for a dip?” Ed asked with a lazy stretch.  

Stede frowned. “But I don’t have my bathing suit. I left it onboard.”

“No-one else is in their bathing suits.” Ed chuckled, nudging his shoulder against Stede’s. “Come on treasure, it’ll be fun.”

As it turns out, Ed was right. It was a lot of fun.

The fourth time it happened wasn’t even directed at Stede.

He was up in the crows nest simply enjoying the view. It was a beautifully clear day and the water sparkled around them. There was a light breeze keeping the humidity at bay and Stede was having a small moment of peace to himself. Below him, he was a aware of chatter amongst the crew, but wasn’t really paying any attention to it.

Instead he was thinking about where they should head to next. Everyone had chucked out various ideas of where they wanted to go and which ports they wanted to visit. The crew had each passionately argued as to why their suggestion was the best, leaving Stede feeling more than a little overwhelmed and flustered. A bit of quiet was all he needed to sort out his muddled thoughts.

Heavy boots crossing the deck caught his ears. There was no doubt that was Ed. He must have finished with the inventory he had disappeared below deck to work through with Lucius. Glancing down, he watched the two join the small group, Lucius immediately sitting down next to Pete.

“So have we decided on where we’re going yet?” Ed asked the crew, hands resting casually on his hips.

“Captain hasn’t decided yet.” Came Jim’s reply, always quick and to the point.

Ed hummed thoughtfully and looked around. What he said next caused a blush to explode over Stede’s cheeks.  

“And where is my treasure?” He spoke affectionally.

There was no way he was talking about Stede, right? Maybe he had misplaced some coins or a jewel or…

“Captain’s up in the crows nest.” Olu answered, helpfully pointing upwards.

Stede scrambled away from the edge and planted his back firmly against the mast as he tried to control his rapid breathing. Ed really had meant him…and apparently the rest of the crew were aware of this little term of endearment as well! What did it all mean?

Ed’s head suddenly popped into view. “Ah, there you are! Hey, are you alright? You’re looking a little flushed there mate.”

“I’m fine!” Stede squawked.

The fifth time that it happened, Stede had just been shot.

A Spanish Navy ship had spotted them and set chase. The Revenge was fast, but the Spanish had the wind on their side and caught up to them in no time. Backs against the wall, the crew had no choice but to fight back. They were boarded by the officers and their men and a great battle began.

The sound of metal clanging against metal was almost deafening as the horribly copper scent of blood filled the air. Ed had been teaching Stede how to sword fight and those lessons were coming in very handy right now. However, it didn’t matter how skilled Stede was, as a sword was no use against a gun.

A loud bang echoed through the air and everything seemed to fall silent and move in slow motion. Stede looked around in confusion for the source of the noise, only seeing the head officer with a raised gun. Had he fired it? Stede wasn’t sure. Around him were faces of panic from his crew but he couldn’t see the reason as to why.

His vision was suddenly taken up completely by Ed. He was teary eyed and speaking fast, but Stede couldn’t hear a sound against the roaring in his ears and a stabbing pain in his shoulder. He looked down, wondering what the cause of his discomfort was.

Oh. Oh dear.

His shoulder was soaked red with blood. His blood. Time suddenly came back to life and everything was so fast all of a sudden. People moved around him in a blur, the crew fighting and pushing the Spanish back in their anger. There was a clang as Stede’s sword slipped from his grasp as he tried to reach out instead.

“Ed.” He gasped, the pain pulsing in time with his racing heart.

“I’ve got you mate, I’ve got you.” Ed replied, moving Stede to lean against his side, strong arms around his waist.

They pair walked through the chaos, dodging fists and daggers as Ed manoeuvred them below deck. Stede felt his vision start to swim and it took everything in him to keep ahold of his co-captain.

“That’s it, down you go.” Ed soothed.

Stede found himself laid down as he stared up at the ceiling of his shared quarters. A darkness was steadily creeping in around the edges, threatening to consume him.  

“Stay with me, alright mate? Can you do that for me?” Ed was panicking now.

He kept twisting to bark orders over his shoulders, shouting for Roach to hurry up. The loud sounds hurt Stede’s ears and he winced in agony. A hand blindly reached out to take a weak hold of Ed’s own sweaty palm.

“I’m sorry darling.” Stede rasped. “I’m just so very tired.”

“Stede? Stede, no, no! I need you to stay awake. Come on treasure, don’t do this to me. Don’t you dare do this!” Ed yelled.

Stede closed his eyes and smiled softly. How lovely to be considered a treasure.

The first time they spoke about it, Stede was lucky to be alive.  

He had woken up in his bed and was reminded of a similar situation from not that long ago. However this time Ed was not sitting next to him, but rather he was curled up with Stede in the small bed. He was propped up slightly against the pillows with Ed’s head resting against his chest, right over his heart. A hand was laid protectively over his waist and he noticed the dagger in Ed’s tight grip.

“Edward?” His voice was dry and hoarse.

The man stirred and immediately bolted upright, eyes wide and bloodshot as he frantically took in Stede’s appearance.

“Holy shit.” He whispered. “You’re awake?”

Stede grimaced as he shifted, reminded of the pain in his shoulder and tight bandages wrapped securely around the wound.

“Yes, it would appear so.” He grunted with much effort.

Ed moved to help Stede get comfortable, adjusting the pillows and blankets as needed. Once satisfied he just sort of…stopped. He was frozen still as he looked at Stede, expression soft yet heartbroken all at the same time.  

“Is there something wrong?” Stede asked, worrying about all of the possibilities that Ed could say.

Ed let out a shuddering breath. “I thought I’d lost you for a moment there. I…I think I did. Roach won’t say, but I swear you stopped breathing for a moment.”

That was a lot to take in. Stede quickly processed it all before answering. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. But hey, look at me, I’m right here. I’m fine. I’m alive.”

Ed nodded, tears springing to the corner of his eyes. A shaky hand reached out to cup Stede’s cheek softly.

“My greatest treasure…and I…I almost lost you.” Ed whispered reverently.

Stede lent into the touch. “Treasure.” He tested out the word for himself. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

Edward chucked and shook his head slightly. “I don’t know. Maybe because it’s true?” He licked his lips, glancing down at Stede’s own. “You’re prettier than any piece of jewellery. Worth more than any gold coin. Rarer than any diamond. You’re easily the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen and the most important thing in the world to me. I think that makes you something worth treasuring, wouldn’t you agree?”

Stede didn’t realise that he’d started crying until he heard the way his voice shook. “Edward I…I don’t know what to say.”

Ed smiled back at him. “You don’t have to say anything, but I’d quite like to kiss you, if that’s alright?”

Stede nodded eagerly and Ed closed the gap. The kiss was perfect, a warm affection blossoming in Stede’s chest and spreading to the very tips of his fingers and toes. The gentle slide of their lips was his own personal taste of heaven. As they parted, Stede smiled lovingly up at Ed.

“I think I understand now. I’d trade in all of my wealth if it meant one more kiss from you.” Stede confessed.

A grin broke across Ed’s face. “Lucky for you, I don’t charge.”

Playful laughter filled the room as Ed dived back in to capture Stede’s lips with his own again. It was from that moment on they knew that they’d always be the richest pirates on the seven seas, as no-one else had something as priceless as what they shared.

[dranna]

Sinking

AO3 / Commissions / Links /

Warnings: none(?), not beta read, fluff

Summary: Ed was sinking deep into the darkness of the cold ocean. A certain merman comes to his rescue.

a/n: I haven’t seen the new episodes yet(!), but saw gifs and little parts of the show on tumblr (oh dear) I couldn't get merman Stede out of my head, so wrote this short one shot ~ I’m basically writing this while on the train, so I’m sorry for grammatical mistakes

tags my beloveds: @giosnape (let me know if you would like to be tagged:) )

It’s the fucking end innit?

Seeing mermaids and shit.

Ed was sinking deeper and deeper into the vastness,

Of dark nothingness,

He was under heavy covers of water,

Suffocating by its iron hands.

He was weightless in this stillness,

Floating in emptiness,

Silence was mixed with muffled noises,

Impossible to locate these responses,

Endless shadows were towering,

Around him,

From every direction possible.

The only hope was fading from his eyes,

As he got farther away from the warm light.

His lonely landscape,

Was interrupted by an other living,

He was effortlessly sinking towards him,

Bringing the sun’s reflections with him,

From the gloominess Ed was in,

The other looked a magical being,

Clothed in gold light and warmth.

He gently held his arms,

And started to drag,

Him towards life upstairs.

He was half man and fish,

With a beautiful tail,

For lower body,

I’m losing my fucking mind,

I’m dreaming about a mermaid saving my ass.

Faster and faster they swam,

The merman putting him in the Light again,

With a sudden move,

He pushed Ed up,

Above the dark ocean.

The previous silence was replaced,

With the screaming of the wind,

Singing of the birds,

And the soothing sound of waves.

Ed was drinking in the air,

Like a starving man,

Water in a desert.

After all this adrenaline,

He felt his body gave in,

And sinking back into nothingness.

The merman pulled him towards the shore,

Tenderly placing his unconscious form.

“Please wake up!”

— He was shaking him,

But to no avail,

He still sleeped on frighteningly,

“Please come back to me!”

— Still no response,

Only cold stillness,

As a last resort,

He started to sing,

His beautiful melody,

Which can ruin,

But also heal.

His voice seemed to work,

Bringing colour back,

To blue cheeks,

Slowly he opened his eyes,

Warm brown irises fell,

Into light blue ones.

A sweet kiss was placed,

Upon Ed’s scared forehead,

Before he could register what happened,

The merman was among the waves again,

Looking back at him,

With an adored smile on his lips.

“I’m Stede by the way:)”

— With a dramatic bow he left,

Descending into the blueness.

[mandiemon3]

The Best Revenge is Living Well- Chapter 27

“Can you fucking believe that? He didn’t even say he was sorry, he just hopped around it like we were too stupid to notice!”

Mo paced back and forth across the deck, gesturing wildly in their anger. Izzy sat on the railing of the main deck, his bad leg propped up as he methodically carved a small piece of wood.

Izzy nodded, not looking up from his work. “’Course I believe it,” he said levelly. “What were you expecting, love? A tearful apology?” He glanced up at his partner when they huffed, only growing angrier by the second. “I don’t know,” they admitted, scowling as they threw their hands in the air. “Don’t know if I expected anything, but I guess I assumed the words ‘I’m sorry’ would be in there somewhere because Stede said he wanted us to gather to hear Edward’s apology.” They scoffed. “Pretty sure I’m not the asshole in this situation.”

Izzy sighed wearily, stilling his hands as he watched them pace, their agitation not easing.

“You’re not the fuckin’ asshole,” he said, sounding exhausted. “Now would you stop pacing? You’re just going to wear yourself out. You’ll need new boots by the time we dock at the rate you’re going.”

Mo frowned, their gaze fixed down at the deck as they shook their head. “Sorry, Iz. Can’t stop. Got too many thoughts right now. If I stop, I’ll need to do something else, and this is the least destructive thing I can think of at the moment.” They turned, their brow furrowing as they regarded their partner.

“How in the hell are you taking this so well?” they asked suspiciously. They slowed their pacing, moving closer to him and watching as he calmly sliced slivers off the chunk of wood he held.

Izzy shrugged. “You get used to it after a while,” he said levelly. “You know how many people have apologized to me since I’ve been at sea?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Not many, my love. Mostly you, actually.” A small smile pulled at his lips as he glanced at his partner.

Mo frowned, their arms crossing over their chest as they came to a stop, leaning against the railing next to him, unable to stop their foot from tapping rapidly against the deck. “Well, that doesn’t mean it’s right,” they said stubbornly. “He should still be held accountable for his actions. Fucking everyone should. There’s no growth without repercussions.”

Izzy gave no sign that he heard them, other than a quiet hum.

“Seriously,” they asked, placing their hand on his thigh, running their thumb over his knee, “aren’t you upset at him? He fucking shot you, Iz, you deserve to be angry at him.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter as much to me anymore,” he admitted gruffly. He looked up as Mo gave him a confused look, finally setting aside his whittling. “I’m mad he shot me,” he said wearily, holding their gaze levelly. “Mad I lost my fuckin’ leg because of him and his stupid suicide mission. But I don’t need to focus on him anymore.” He corners of his lips upturned. “I have a new focus now. Besides,” he said, returning to his work, “shouldn’t let grief or anger get in the way of living.”

Mo nodded reluctantly. “Guess you have a point there,” they admitted quietly. They squeezed his thigh. “When’d you get so fucking wise, Israel? Did that happen when I was away?”

Izzy huffed a small laugh. “Always been wise, darling.” He smirked, his gaze fixed down as he whittled. “You know, you’re not as different as you’d think. You and Edward,” he said casually, glancing up from his work to gauge his partner’s reaction. His smirk grew as he watched them flounder for words, their shock momentarily derailing their anger.

“Wha-what the fuck does that mean?” they demanded, gently nudging him as they pushed off the railing, once again unable to resist their urge to pace. They desperately needed to burn through some energy, to do something to calm down. “I am nothing like that prick. I would never do the kind of shit he did here, even if the unspeakable happened.” They glared at Izzy, daring him to contradict them.

“Never said you would,” he said levelly, sheathing his knife before carefully standing up. He laced his fingers together loosely, letting his arms hang in front of him as he leaned against the railing. “You’re better than him,” he promised, watching them intently. “Don’t mean to imply otherwise. Just noticed a few common traits. Don’t think either of you realize how similar you really are.”

Mo scowled, crossing their arms over their chest, finally coming to a stop in front of him. “And what would those be?” they asked roughly. “Our common traits?”

Izzy grinned. “Well, you’re both defensive, for one.” He chuckled when they scoffed. “Both have a flair for the dramatic,” he continued, “and both of you are guarded about your past.”

Mo snorted. “Like you’re not,” they muttered under their breath, their foot tapping rapidly against the deck.

“You’re both short tempered,” he said, looking at them pointedly. “Both need to move when you’re agitated. And when you’re caught off guard or overwhelmed, you both want to fight through your problems.”

They frowned. “Yeah, but I’d never do this,” this insisted, kicking their boot idly. “I’ll fight a bloke, sure, but I usually ask first, not just grab whoever’s nearest and start torturing. And I’d never cause lasting damage, even if I was upset. I’d never cut off extremities or-”

“You’d never shoot someone,” Izzy interrupted, a calming smile on his face. “Mo, I know. You’re not him. You work on your issues for one,” he said with a breathy laugh, “and you have limits. Edward lost most of his a while ago. Don’t know if he has any left, other than not to hurt Bonnet.” A smile flickered across Izzy’s face. “You have some of his good qualities too,” he continued, his tone gentler.

Mo twisted on their feet, turning from side to side and using the repetitive motion to soothe their irritation. They felt like they’d been hit in the chest, all the wind knocked out of them as they listened to the ways they reminded their lover of Blackbeard.

“Yeah?” they said weakly, tearing their gaze off the deck to glance at him.

Izzy shifted, pushing himself off the railing as he walked towards them. He gently held onto their arms, his head lowered as he tried to catch their eye. “Yeah, love,” he said humorously, smiling softly. “You’re smart, and quick on your feet. Funny too, when you’re not being an ass.” Mo laughed weakly, finally looking up at their grinning partner. He moved a hand up their arm, coming to rest on their shoulder as his thumb brushed against their neck. They couldn’t help but let their muscles relax under his touch.

“You know people, how to talk to them. Could befriend a fuckin’ squid if you had enough time.” They smirked at his teasing tone, resting their hands on his hips. “You’ve got that…whimsy that everyone on this ship does. You can find the joy in anything, some way to have fun.” Izzy smiled softly. “Always envied that in Ed,” he admitted, his thumb running over their jaw absentmindedly. “Never really knew how to find good in things. Not until you, anyway.” He sighed quietly, a content sound as he looked at them, his dark eyes soft. “You make it easier.”

Mo couldn’t help but smile softly. “Glad to be of help,” they said quietly, wishing they could freeze this moment. What they would give to stay like this forever, to live a life of these moments with Izzy.

They grinned slowly, unable to stop the small chuckle that escaped them as their head leaned forward, their forehead resting against his chest.

“What?” he asked, already laughing as he ran his hand up their back.

Mo laughed, unable to raise their head to look up at him. “I guess I just always saw myself more like Stede,” they admitted quietly, grinning even as Izzy groaned dramatically.

“Oh, fuck off with that,” he said, no real venom behind it. “I would not fall in love with a Stede Bonnet.”

They grinned, pulling back enough to look at him. “Guess that makes you Stede then,” they said carefully. Izzy rolled his eyes, cupping their cheek as he pressed his forehead to theirs.

“Neither of us are that flouncy twat,” he said firmly. A small smile flickered across his lips, his gaze softening as he watched them, still laughing to themselves. “You’re lucky I love you,” he continued, his voice lilted humorously. “If anyone else had the gall to call me Stede fuckin’ Bonnet, they’d be in the ocean by now.”

Mo giggled, lacing their arms behind his head, resting their hands on the back of his neck. “I know,” they said cheekily. “And I am very grateful for your infinite patience for me.” They grinned as Izzy leaned forward, their hands coming up to gently hold his head as he kissed them. When they parted, they couldn’t help but giggle again.

“Guess no one else would get a kiss for calling you Stede either,” they said quietly. They laughed as Izzy grumbled, dropping his head to rest on their shoulder with an exasperated sigh. They ran their fingers through his hair, holding the first mate close. “I am lucky,” they said, still chuckling as they pressed a kiss to his temple. “And not just because you put up with my jokes.”

Mo was able to avoid Edward for most of the day, leaving a room when he’d enter or glaring at him when he looked at them too long, looking like he was considering approaching them. Only Lucius seemed to share their concerns, holding a grudge against their former co-captain for his near death experience and everything that followed it. The two were relieved to have someone else aboard who took issue with Edward, especially after his lackluster apology attempt in which he took no responsibility for his actions or the harm he had caused. The rest of the crew seemed to accept his presence fairly easily, even those he had kept almost as hostages for those horrible weeks of separation. Archie, Jim, and Oluwande were able to goof off together as they swabbed the deck, and Frenchie was finding joy in stitching together a new flag for the ship, one of his own design. When Mo asked him his thoughts on Edward staying, he shrugged.

“It is what it is, babe,” he said, not taking his eyes off his project, the large bit of fabric laid across a table in the galley. “Just glad to have Ed back.”

Mo frowned, tousling his hair and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Agree to disagree,” they said. “I’ll be right back, love. I want to show you something.” They returned a few minutes later, holding a stack of papers.

“What’s that?” Frenchie asked, holding his needle between his lips as he looked over at them.

Mo sank into a seat at the table next to him, placing the papers on the table and sliding it towards him with a smile.

“It’s letters,” they said simply, watching with a grin as he set aside his work, giving them a questioning look as he picked up a piece of paper.

Frenchie grinned, looking at them in amazement. “For me?” He laughed when they nodded, flicking through the pages with glee.

“You left me notes,” Mo explained with a grin. “Figured I could return the favor and give these to you when I found you. Mine aren’t as good as yours, but I tried, and I figured you’d still like them, even if they do look like they were drawn by a monkey.”

Frenchie chuckled. “Yeah, well you were right,” he said, still not looking up as he shuffled through the papers. “About me liking them, I mean, not them looking like they were drawn by a monkey.” He frowned slightly, lifting his head as he thought. “Maybe a cursed monkey, but not a regular one.” He shook his head, thumbing through the pages again as he grinned to himself.

“No one’s ever given me letters before,” he said quietly. “Figures, since I can’t read. But look!” He held up a paper, showing them a crude drawing they had done of the two of them, standing on the Revenge with goofy smiles drawn on their faces. “I get this!” he proudly proclaimed, grinning ear to ear. “I know what you meant, clear as day, and it’s not just ‘cause we have the same brain!”

Mo laughed, relieved that he could tell what they were going for. They would never expect him to be mean about a gift, but it was comforting nonetheless to see him react with such genuine joy.

“I’m glad you like them,” they said honestly, leaning against his shoulder. “I wasn’t sure my point would come across with a lot of them, but I wanted to try.” They sighed. “Wanted to be able to bring you back a souvenir of some kind,” they said quietly, watching his nimble fingers shuffle through the drawings, “but I couldn’t find anything worth stealing that I could carry. Matt didn’t have anything worthwhile on him, just a few coins he probably stole from someone, but I had to use those to pay for food to get back to the Republic.” Mo propped their chin on his shoulder. “Next time we dock though, you can bet your ass you’re getting a present,” they declared with a grin.

Frenchie laughed, wrapping an arm around their shoulders. “Ahh, you know you don’t have to get me anything,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Being your mate is enough.”

“Best mate,” Mo corrected.

He nodded. “My mistake. Bestest mate in the world,” he said, nodding towards them.

Mo shrugged, giving him a sympathetic look. “You’re still getting a gift. Not as a form of payment or anything like that,” they added, “just because you’re my best friend and I love you.” They laughed, shaking their head as they thought. “Oh boy, if I was rich, you and Izzy would be so spoiled,” they said. “Maybe even more than me.”

Frenchie laughed. “Yeah, imagine that,” he said. “Kept man Izzy Hands. A proper housewife, that bloke.”

Mo grinned at the thought. “Don’t think that’ll ever happen, even if we robbed the King and Queen themselves,” they said, chuckling. “I love that man, but my gods is he stubborn. Not to mention that it’s almost impossible to get him to just sit still, even for ten fucking minutes. Take away his work and he’d go insane.”

“Yeah, but he’d do it for you.” Frenchie said, smirking playfully as he nudged them. “You know he would.”

They smiled, dropping their head bashfully. “Yeah,” they said quietly, giving a reluctant nod. “He probably would.” They looked up, still unable to meet their friend’s eye as he grinned. “I’d still never ask him to be a ‘kept man’,” they continued insistently, “let alone a housewife. Having him as my husband will be more than enough.”

Frenchie’s eyes widened, one hand darting up to cover his mouth as the other gripped their shoulder tightly. They stiffened at his grip, turning to face his with a confused expression.

“Mo Berch,” he said quietly, almost conspiratorially even as a grin spread across his face, “are you…are you planning to propose to him?”

Mo blushed, their face burning as they turned red. “I didn’t mean now,” they protested, their voice hushed. “I mean, Izzy wouldn’t be ready, and we’re still adjusting to being back together. We need to finish fixing up the ship and figure out what’s going on with Edward before even thinking about anything else.”

Frenchie nudged them, grinning widely. “Answer the question,” he urged, his eyes wide.

They sighed wearily, unable to fight off their own grin even as they rolled their eyes. “Fine,” they said lowly, as if admitting a great secret, trailing their fingers over their friend's neat stitching. “Yes, I’m going to marry that man. Someday,” they added with a pointed look. “But please don’t say anything to anyone. Roach is already joking about it, and I don’t want Izzy to have any pressure from the crew, one way or the other.” They frowned, finally meeting their friend’s gaze. “You know he gets weird when other people expect something from him. I really don’t want this to be something he gets weird about.”

Frenchie nodded solemnly, crossing his heart quickly, his eyes shining brightly. “Don't know what you're worried about though. Everyone already knows,” he said, frowning lightly. He laughed when they frowned, clearly taken aback. “You two aren’t subtle,” he pointed out teasingly, bumping his shoulder against theirs. “Always together, always smilin' when you’re near each other. Not to mention how casual he is with you. He’s usually tighter than a clam, but he practically melts when you’re around.” He snorted. “I’d feel bad for him if you didn’t propose. Poor bloke is clearly hopelessly in love with you.”

Mo smiled, blushing again as they looked down at their hands. “I take it that means he has your blessing then?" They asked, glancing up at him hopefully. "You wouldn’t mind having him as basically a brother-in-law?”

He beamed, taking their hand in his own and giving it a firm squeeze. “I’d love to have him in the family,” he assured them. “Didn’t go through all that effort hidin’ him away because I didn’t like him. And he makes you happy,” he said, nudging them gently. “That’s the most important thing. If he’s good enough for you, he’s good enough for me.”

Mo smiled, leaning against their tall friend again. “That’s good,” they said. “Because I don’t think there’s a force in the world strong enough to keep me from marrying him.”

When Mo returned to the main deck, they found Izzy teaching Stede in the ways of pirating. They couldn’t help but grin, barely hiding their laugh behind their hand as he smacked their captain’s ass, sending his across the deck hanging on a rope, squealing as his hands were burned by the rough material. Izzy shook his head, clearly torn between being exasperated and amused at the sight as Stede whimpered, laying on the deck hopelessly. Their partner noticed them watching, giving them a brief wink and a small smile before chastising Stede’s choice of gloves.

Mo grinned to themselves as they crossed the deck, searching for Wee John. Now that everyone was safely reunited, they wanted to take him up on his offer of knitting them a blanket. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind their request for him to make it big enough for two. Not finding their friend on deck, they ducked down into the ship again, giving Izzy a wave and a warm smile as they crossed the ship, silently wishing him luck on his next task of teaching Stede how to shoot a gun. Gods knew he needed it.

Mo was helping Fang haul treasure into a storage room when Izzy found them, ducking through the open doorway, resting his arm against it as he watched the two pile up everything he and the crew had worked so hard to steal during their time under Blackbeard’s captaincy.

“What are you doing?” he asked, frowning as he watched his partner stack another chest of coins on top of a crate.

Mo turned to face him, wiping at their brow with the back of their arm. “Captain asked us,” they explained breathlessly, gesturing to the growing hoard around them. “Wanted it all condensed. Out of the way.” They tipped their head to the side, their hands resting on their hips as they studied him. “What’s up? You need something?”

Izzy seemed to rouse himself, standing up fully as he remembered his purpose for entering the room. “Just wanted to let you know that we’re going on a raid,” he said levelly, as if telling them he was making a stop to pick up eggs from the market. “Trying to teach Bonnet a thing or two, before he gets us all killed.”

Fang looked at him anxiously, a small frown on his face. “How’s he doing?” As fond as they all were of Stede, no one was disillusioned about his skills as a pirate.

Izzy huffed a sigh, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. “’Bout as expected. He has...” he trailed off, scowling as he thought of an apt description, “considerable room for improvement,” he settled on, rather generously. Mo ducked their head to hide their small smile. A few months ago, he would be hissing and screaming over having to teach Stede anything. Now, he was making efforts not to insult the captain, even when asked his thoughts directly.

“We’ll find something Bonnet is good at,” Izzy continued. “Might take us a fuckin’ month at this rate, but we’ll find it.” He turned towards Mo, pointing a finger at them. “I want you to stay out of harm’s way,” he ordered. “We’ll have enough trouble keeping Bonnet safe, I don’t want to have to worry about you too.”

Mo opened their mouth to protest, unable to stop the indignant sound that came from their throat. To their surprise, Fang beat them to the punch, seeming just as offended as they felt.

“Hang on, Izzy,” the soft-spoken man said, his brow furrowed as he frowned. “They’re one of our best fighters. You can’t just put them on the sidelines.”

Izzy’s eyebrows set in a hard line, clearly not expecting any pushback from Fang of all people.

“He’s right, love,” Mo said carefully, not wanting to risk pushing back against his authority too much. “I can handle my own in a fight, and it’d be stupid to make me sit this one out.”

Izzy leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed as he looked at them levelly, examining them closely. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to think I can get you to stay out of a fight?” He watched them intently, clearly expecting an answer.

Mo shuffled, suddenly feeling awkward under Izzy’s gaze. They were uncomfortably aware of the apprehensive look Fang gave them, looking down at the floor as their throat ran dry.

“Well…um…I, uh, I don’t know how to respond to that,” they admitted uncertainly.

Izzy gave them a lopsided grin, huffing a small laugh. “Mo, if I asked you not to fight, you’d still fight,” he said calmly, his voice surprisingly warm. “Everyone on this bloody ship knows it, me included. Then we would fight, and you know I’m not keen on that. What I was asking,” he said pointedly, “wasn’t for you to stay out of the fight entirely. Just don’t do something stupid, love. I don’t want you causing trouble, doing anything risky.”

Mo frowned, kicking their boot aimlessly. “I don’t do stupid things,” they said stubbornly, their voice quiet. “At least not during fights. Out of fights…maybe, on occasion.” Izzy chuckled.

They looked up at their partner, frowning even as they saw the affectionate way he looked at them. “Why didn’t you tell Fang to stay out of trouble?” they demanded, laughing despite themselves. “I mean, no offense, Fang,” they added, turning towards their large friend with an apologetic look.

Fang shook his head, holding up his hands. “None taken,” he promised. “I’ve made mistakes. I’m human too.”

“Fang doesn’t run into danger the way you do, love,” Izzy explained. “He has decades of experience. Never had a serious injury.” Fang frowned. “Had that stab in my leg that one time,” he said, rubbing his thigh absentmindedly.

Izzy nodded reluctantly, rolling his eyes. “That wasn’t pretty,” he conceded. “But your life was never in danger. But you,” he said, pointing at his partner, “you’re still getting your footing. Shouldn’t be taking any chances.”

Mo grinned, crossing their arms over their chest. “You want to talk about getting your footing?” they asked in amusement. “Iz, you have a wooden leg. I’m not the one you need to worry about. In fact, I should be the one telling you to stay safe.” Izzy rolled his eyes again, the small upturn of his lips betraying his faux exasperation, even as he sighed heavily. Mo grinned. “Yep, I’ve made up my mind,” they declared. “I’m sticking with you, Iz. In battle as much as out of it.”

Fang giggled. He shrugged when Izzy shot him a perturbed look, not shirking away from his gaze the way he used to. “Sorry, boss,” he said, not seeming remotely sorry, still grinning like a school child.

Izzy sighed heavily, looking wearily back at his partner. “Suppose I can’t stop you if you want to fight near me,” he said reluctantly, his voice low. “But under no circumstances do you put yourself in danger,” he continued firmly, giving them a stern look. “That’s an order from your first mate.”

Mo smiled, shrugging noncommittally.

Izzy frowned. “You need to agree,” he said lowly, raising an eyebrow at them.

They shrugged again, walking across the small room to meet him, doing their best to ignore the burning of Fang’s gaze on their back.

“Stay out of danger, and you’ve got yourself a deal,” they said quietly, grinning up at Izzy, their hands resting on his hips.

He blushed at the proximity, his eyes lowered to their shoulder as he tried to think of a response. “I-I have a job to do,” he stammered out, unable to meet their adoring gaze. “Can’t promise anything, you know that.”

Mo smiled softly. “And I can’t promise that I won’t intervene if I think you’re in danger.” They grinned. “Pretty sure you already knew that though. Everyone else sure does. Right Fang?” They turned, laughing at the way the older pirate startled, as if he was caught spying on them.

“Oh, um, yeah,” he said haltingly, adjusting his stance nervously as he nodded. “We all know.”

Mo chuckled, turning back to their partner with a sweet smile. “You stay safe, and I will too,” they promised. “Now, is that all you needed, First Mate Hands?”

Izzy nodded hesitantly, still having a hard time meeting their gaze. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely, clearing his throat. “That was it.”

They nodded, smiling softly. After all this time, he was still so easy to fluster. “Okay,” they said. “Then I’ll see you later, my love. I’m going to go get some more treasure. It was an order from a superior, after all.” They chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before stepping back, leaving the room to grab their next trunk of plundered gold and jewels.

Izzy cleared his throat again as they left, ignoring the blush he knew was staining his cheeks. He glanced at Fang, who was still awkwardly staring at him, seemingly in shock from seeing such a display of affection from the first mate. “What are you looking at?” he asked, sounding remarkably casual for a man with a face dusted with pink. He straightened his vest, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. “You heard them. Back to work, Fang,” he ordered, nodding towards the door.

Fang stumbled as he walked across the room, muttering an “Aye, aye,” on his way out, unable to hide his small smile.

Mo was expecting yelling, clanking, and gunshots as they boarded the ship Stede had selected as their target. The deafening silence they were greeted with was much more chilling, not helped by the dead bodies sprawled about, or the strange symbols written in blood across the deck.

“Congrats, Bonnet,” Izzy said dryly beside them, resting his hand on Olu’s shoulder as he shifted. “You picked the only ship where everyone’s dead.”

Jim muttered something under their breath, quickly crossing their chest, whispering urgently in Spanish.

“What’s this all about then?” Frenchie asked nervously, stepping closer to Mo as Izzy walked off with Stede to investigate.

Mo shook their head, looking around at the carnage with wide eyes. “Dunno,” they said quietly. “Can’t be good though.”

Frenchie shifted anxiously on his feet, leaning over to whisper to his friend.

“I really don’t like this,” he said, pulling at his scarf. “Looks like witchcraft to me.”

They sighed softly, reaching out to take his hand. “Don’t worry, love. This was done by regular people.” They looked around, grimacing. “Really fucked up, unnecessarily brutal people, but people nonetheless.”

Frenchie shook his head. “You don’t know that,” he insisted lowly.

Mo looked up at him, hating seeing how nervous he looked. His brow was furrowed, and a deep frown pulled at his lips. His wide eyes never stopped sweeping across the deck, as if expecting a ghost or a cackling witch to appear out of nowhere and attack him.

“Frenchie, you know I don’t believe in witches,” they said carefully.

Their tall friend frowned, still on the look out for danger. “All the more reason to be vigilant,” he said absentmindedly, shifting closer to them. “I know to expect them, but you, you’re more vulnerable. Nonbelievers are always the first to go.”

Mo sighed heavily. They opened their mouth to speak but were cut off as Jim stormed out of a cabin.

“We need to leave,” they insisted, looking deeply troubled. “Right now.”

“Wait,” Mo called, their worry coming back to them. What if not everyone on board was dead? Izzy would be an easy target, walking around on his new prosthetic with only Stede to watch his back. “What’s wrong? Where’s Izzy?”

Jim laughed humorlessly, grabbing Archie’s arm and Oluwande’s hand, already leading them back to the ladder they had used to board. “He’s in the captain’s quarters with el idiota,” they said bitterly, giving them a wide-eyed look. “Grab him, now,” they warned.

Mo’s heart lurched. Nothing scared Jim. They sprinted across the deck to where their friend had emerged, throwing open the door and looking around wildly for their partner. To their surprise, he stood inside the cabin with Stede, looking completely relaxed, if a bit displeased by their bad raid. He turned to face them as they entered, his hand already on the handle of his sword before he recognized the sudden intruder. He relaxed immediately, but tensed again as Mo threw themselves at him, wrapping him in a tight hug. He stumbled as he caught them, quickly hugging them back with a confused look on his face.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” he asked quietly, his breath tickling their ear.

Mo laughed weakly, pulling back enough to look at him. “I, uh, I just got worried,” they said lamely, still breathing quickly. “Jim came out, was saying some ominous shit, and it freaked me out. Needed to know you were okay.”

Izzy smiled warmly down at them. Before he could respond, a voice came from behind them.

“Ah, well that’s lovely!”

Mo turned, finding Stede wearing a ludicrously extravagant red coat jacket. He watched them with a warm smile. “It’s so nice seeing you two together again,” he said sincerely.

“Oh, hey, Stede,” they greeted weakly. “Sorry, just didn’t see you there.” They chuckled weakly, still holding tightly to Izzy’s arm as they turned fully to face him. “Guess I kinda had my blinders on. Is, uh, is that jacket new?”

Stede grinned, spinning dramatically before straightening the jacket out to show them. “What do you think?” he asked, unable to hide his glee. “Can you believe it? What would a bunch of priests be doing with such a gorgeous ensemble?” He turned, facing a mirror as he posed in his new jacket.

Mo bit back a grin, their heart finally beginning to calm down from their panic. “It’s rather…dashing,” they said slowly. “Very bold, that’s for sure.”

Izzy sighed heavily. “What it is is ridiculous,” he drawled, clearly not amused. “Not to mention impractical,” he added, grimacing to himself.

“Well, I have been wanting to make bolder choices,” Stede said absentmindedly, ignoring Izzy’s comment. “Oh! This could be my new captain jacket!”

Izzy and Mo exchanged a look, having the same thought but neither knowing who should say it. Izzy nodded towards them, and Mo took a deep breath.

“Stede,” they said carefully, watching their captain revel in his newfound fashion statement, “you know that clothes don’t have a big impact on captaining ability, right?”

Stede hummed, not taking his eyes off his reflection. Izzy rolled his eyes, looking away in exasperation.

“Oi!” they called loudly, chuckling as he jolted, turning to face them finally. “Sorry, mate," they said, giving him a sympathetic smile. "Had to get your attention somehow." They took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Look, I’ll level with you, alright?” Stede nodded, frowning suspiciously. “It’s a good jacket,” they said, “and it looks good on you.” He beamed at the praise, raising his head like a preening bird. “But,” they added, giving him a sympathetic look, “this won’t fix your captaincy worries for you. Only you can do that. Looking like a ‘real captain’”, they said using air quotes, “won’t make people see you as more of a captain. You just need to work on building up your skillset and your confidence.”

Izzy chuckled next to them. “Maybe not the confidence so much,” he said quietly.

Stede scowled, straightening his jacket with far too much zeal as he glared at the first mate. Mo gently elbowed their lover, barely able to hide their smile when he held their arm, maneuvering them to wrap his arm around their waist, resting his hand on their hip.

“Don’t listen to him,” they advised their captain. “I mean, do, but mostly just about piracy. When it comes to people skills, he’s still learning.” Izzy scoffed. “Thought you were supposed to be on my side,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with a chuckle.

Mo grinned at they turned to look up at him. “I am when it matters,” they said matter-of-factly. “Besides, it’s not something you don’t know. You’ve got a lot of talents, Iz,” they said fondly. “Your people skills just aren’t quite there yet.” He rolled his eyes, giving them a small smile.

“Anyway,” they continued, turning back to Stede. “I guess what I’m saying is, the clothes don’t make the captain. And you already have a bit of an advantage, Stede,” they added. “You already have loyal friends. You just need to work on your authority and your practical skills.” The captain nodded reluctantly, still toying with the hem of the ornate jacket’s sleeves.

Mo smiled, unable to deny their friend one bit of joy. “That being said, the jacket does suit you.” They grinned as his face lit up. “I think you should keep it, if you like it that much.” Izzy groaned next to them, and they moved closer to him, pressing against his chest and giving him a pleading look over their shoulder. He sighed softly, but stopped complaining, pressing a gentle kiss to their temple.

Stede had turned back around when they looked at him, smirking as he admired his reflection. “I think I will,” he said, striking a daring pose.

[obvious-captain-rogers]

I'm working on a couple new fics, so as a Christmas treat I'll give you some sneak peaks under the cut ;)

This is from the steddyhands dads au that helps flesh out Ed and Izzy's backstory

“Oh. That. It’s er-” Izzy felt suddenly self-conscious under the scrutiny. “Just this thing that we started when Jude was a baby.” Izzy shrugged, careful not to jostle Jude in the process. “Was Fang’s idea originally.”

“Tell me about it?” Stede asked, clearly seeing Izzy’s reluctance.

“Would be easier just to show you,” Izzy admitted and then stood, looping an arm beneath Jude’s bum to keep him settled against Izzy’s chest while passing his mug off to Ed, before making his way over to their little bookshelf.

Izzy pulled the book he was looking for off the shelf and made his way back over to the couch, propping it up against his thigh just behind Jude’s back. It was a faded yellow scrapbook with Jude’s full name scrawled in Sharpie across the bottom and with a wallet photo sized window in the middle. The photo was of Jude the day after he’d been born, still in the little hospital bassinet and  slightly wonky hat. “Every year, around Jude’s birthday, we add some pictures from the past year into the book.” Izzy shifted a little nervously as Stede took the book from his hands with more reverence than it really ought to have warranted.

“This is lovely, darling,” Stede said quietly and gently opened up to the first page. Izzy felt his face get hot with embarrassment as Stede quickly had to bite his lip to keep from laughing outright at the first photo. It was pre-Jude, when Izzy was still pregnant and obviously miserable. Fang had taken the photo when Izzy was crashing with him.

“Shut up, Bonnet,” Izzy grumbled and shoved at Stede’s shoulder. “Morning sickness was fuckin’ awful.” The photo was Izzy, clearly having just stumbled out of bed in an oversized t-shirt and his boxers, with his top half slumped over the toilet and flipping off the camera without looking.

“Oh darling, I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it,” Stede said and reached out to lay a hand on Izzy’s knee placatingly. “You do look perfectly miserable.”

“Hyperemesis gravidarum,” Izzy muttered. “Stupidly fuckin’ rare so of course...” Izzy scowled and shook his head. “Was why I swore that after Jude was born that was it.” Izzy pulled a face. “Didn’t get this out to look at me. Fang put them in there, said I would appreciate them later.” Izzy still didn’t, not entirely though he supposed he was more content that they were there to be bitched at rather than not there at all.

Izzy flipped through the pages of when he was pregnant and Stede let out a soft gasp when Izzy finally let him look properly. They were finally where the pictures of Jude started. The first one was of Jude in the hospital right after he was born, all pink and squalling. Then there was the picture of Izzy holding him for the first time.

“You were so young,” Stede said delightedly as he absently smoothed his thumb over the part of the photo that had Izzy in it. His hair had been darker then, none of the grey that now streaked through it.

“Jude’s only five,” Izzy scoffed but he felt a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth at Stede’s enamored expression. Then Stede turned the page and the photo was the first time that Edward had held Jude.

Izzy winced and looked away from the photo. It was a sweet picture, and Edward looked endearingly younger in it as well, but it brought back some ugly memories. Izzy could almost hear the sounds of shattered glass and Edward’s shouting.

and then this is from the silverflint writer/actor au I'm working on, linking the pinterest so y'all get the idea

Flint had to sign off for the scripts when the rest of the post came. He smiled politely and nodded before turning back into the house and flipping through the rest of the post methodically. He wasn’t avoiding them, per se, but if it turned into something, he didn’t want to have to put it on pause because he needed to pay the lighting bill.

He peeled open the document mailer and tipped the scripts- there were three of them- out onto the table alongside a note in Thomas’s spindly scrawl.

You can thank me later when you’ve said yes

-TH

And beside his initials, he’d scribbled down a lopsided little heart that had Flint rolling his eyes fondly.

Flint set the note to the side before he grabbed up the script for the pilot episode and moved over to his loveseat. It was the most comfortable spot in his house and there was plenty of light from the window.

Flint blinked in surprise as he realized that the show was sci-fi. There wasn’t anything wrong with the genre, Flint had watched many an odd and probably not very good sci-fi movie because Miranda liked them and Thomas found the idea of them fascinating. He wasn’t surprised that Miranda was enthusiastic about the project.

Within the first handful of pages, Flint was pulled in.

He forced himself to set down the script in the middle of the pilot episode so that he could snag the other two from where he’d left them on the dining room table so that once he was done, he could just read straight through.

He hated telling Thomas that he was right.

[adzeisval]

Mistake

Ed sometimes lost himself in a raid, got into the theatricality and the chaos and just let himself go off. He tried to watch out for his crewmates, especially Stede. His love had gotten much better of late but he was still a little green. 

Ed heard a scream, but it wasn’t Stede. It was Izzy. Ed turned in time to see Izzy fall to his knees, a knife protruding from his chest. 

“Izzy!” 

Ed ran for him, cutting down anyone who got in his way and finally made it to Izzy.  Roach was with him and Izzy was still alive. Izzy was bleeding and was grimacing in pain.

“Izzy, I’m here,” Ed said as he crashed down next to him and took his first mate’s hand. 

“Edward…” 

Ed’s heart was pounding, he was shaking, he was scared and didn’t want to lose Izzy. He turned to Roach, “Is he…?” 

“Captain he’s…” Roach started but Ed didn’t want to hear the rest. Instead he pulled Izzy into his arms and couldn’t help but sob. He wasn’t ready to lose Izzy, not when they were working on their friendship, not when things between them were getting better. Not now!

“I’m sorry Izzy.” 

“Edward…” 

Edward let out another small sob. He held Izzy close but he couldn’t bring himself to fully look at his dying friend. He didn’t want to see the moment it happened. 

“I’m here Izzy,” Edward said. 

Izzy let out a sigh and Edward waited for him to go limp. 

“Edward, I’m not fucking dying.” 

Ed froze for a moment then gently helped Izzy back down. He looked between Izzy and Roach. There was a knife, but it wasn’t in Izzy’s chest, not really. By the looks of it the knife had mostly been deflected by Izzy’s leather vest, there wasn’t much blood, he’d been cut but not badly.

“He probably needs stitches and might have a broken rib,” Roach said. 

“Oh,” Ed said, “ugh, let’s get him back to the Revenge.” Ed once again could not look at Izzy but for a different reason. He’d been an idiot and overreacted. How embarrassing. 

It took Ed a few hours after they had gotten back to the Revenge before he went to see Izzy. He wanted to avoid having a conversation about what had happened but…not talking was how he and Izzy had drifted apart in the first place. 

Ed knocked on Izzy’s door, “Can I come in Iz?” 

“Yes,” Izzy said and Ed entered. Izzy was propped up in his bed looking a little pale but otherwise alright. 

“Sorry Iz, I overreacted a bit. How are you feeling?” 

“Not bad. Roach is really quick at stitching and rib’s only cracked. Back to normal in no time.” 

“That’s good to hear,” Ed said, not sure how to continue. 

“Thank you Edward,” Izzy said quietly, “I’m glad you came to see if I was alright.” 

“Of course I did, ran right to you when I heard you scream,” Ed said, “I was terrified I was about to watch you die.” 

“Thought I was going to for a few moments myself,” Izzy admitted.

“I’m so glad you’re alright Izzy,” Ed said, “I’ll let you rest.” Ed was nearly at the door when Izzy spoke again. 

“Edward? If I was dying I wouldn’t mind being held. But for fucks sake make sure I’m really dying next time?” 

Ed chuckled, “Feel better, Izzy.”

[izzy-b-hands]

A few different options for the "write a kiss" game so you can pick whichever one sounds best to you! ♥

Ed/Stede #31 (…after a small rejection) Roach/Izzy #22 (…in a rush of adrenaline) Ed/Stede/Izzy #36 (…to give up control)

Or if you want to write something other than OFMD today: Bob/Roger #7 (…to shut them up) or Freddie/Jim/Brian #9 (…in public)

👀👀👀👀

going with Roach/Izzy and 22!

TW for traumatic birth, descriptions of blood, and blood transfusions (old style, circa 1818, altho the first ones were actually recorded around the 1500s!)

Also forgive the ending, I rewrote a million times and finally just ended it sooner than I wanted to lmaooo

---

"Just hold the baby," Roach demands, and hands over the freshly born kid, still covered in blood and muck.

Izzy wishes he had a pair of gloves rather than just the one at the moment, but then again, he's held messier.

There's an odd instinctive nudge to carefully slip the baby into his shirt, against his chest, head cradled. The ring on his scarf gets slipped into his pinkie for safe keeping, the only thing he cares not to lose.

"We're fine," Roach says soothingly, but there's sweat on his brow. "Iz, can you take Dad and Baby out of the room?"

He knows that phrase from his mother's work as a midwife. It isn't one you question.

"Here," Izzy gently passes the baby to their father. "Tuck them in, same as I had-there. I'll find a blanket or something-"

"Just go help her."

The man won't look up at him, or at the baby. Not the place to spend his time for now.

In the master bedroom, Roach and the woman's mother and grandmother work ceaselessly. Bloodied cloths are replaced with fresh ones, dirtied bowls emptied and rinsed and returned.

"You're going to be fine," Roach smiles from the end of the bed, as if there isn't blood covering them. "Iz, can you come here?"

He tries to stand near Roach while also out of the way. "What can I do?"

"I know you get queasy," Roach replies. "But I have a big favour to ask of you. Have you ever seen a blood transfusion done?"

"I've heard of one being done," Izzy says. "Never seen one done successfully."

"Well," Roach says with a nervous chuckle. "Want to be part of that experiment?"

The woman's mother takes over at the foot of the bed, hands holding cloths in precise places to try and staunch the bleeding. Roach directs Izzy to the lone chair and table near the bed.

"Okay," Roach sighs. "It'll hurt. Do you want something for the pain?"

"What do you have?"

"Morphine?"

"...why not?"

The first injection hurts, then it doesn't.

"If your vision starts to go black, tell me," Roach instructs, then takes a large syringe off the nearby table.

"Tickles," Izzy smiles as the needle pierces his skin.

"Sure," Roach smiles. "Stay here."

Roach steps away and Izzy stares at the ceiling. The baby has been crying this entire time, and why isn't Dad doing something? Then again, this is their first baby, maybe he doesn't know how. On the other hand, Izzy only helped his mother for a few years with midwifery, and even he had a gut feeling on what might be right to do.

"Back again," Roach says, and there's that tingling in his arm again. "Try and sit up straight."

He hadn't realised he was slumping down against the bedroom wall. But here he is all the same.

He loses track of Roach going and coming. Hm. Roach coming. There's a thought.

"Hey," a hand gently smacks his face. "We're good."

He holds Roach's hand there, fingertips on his wrist. He can feel Roach's heartbeat pounding away.

There hadn't been a plan to pull Roach in for a kiss. It was fluid, not happening and then suddenly happening then over.

"I'm getting blood all over you," Roach smiles. "Let me get you cleaned up."

He wakes up five hours later, on a cot in the bedroom.

"Welcome back," Roach says softly. "Want to meet the kid, properly this time?"

He's woozy, but Roach helps him up to the bedside.

Mum is pale, but sitting up and smiling. "Hey. Don't we look so much better now?"

The kid is cute, cleaned up. A tiny blue crocheted bonnet covers up wisps of dark hair.

"Awkward question for you both," she continues. "And if you say no, that's fine. But we need a name or two for someone, and I was wondering..."

"I won't say no, but I admit Roach is technically a nickname," Roach shrugs. "And my real name might not fit a girl. But then again, I can't know that for sure."

"Israel is..." Izzy shakes his head. "Maybe not right either."

He pauses. "I was known as Basilica once. Maybe that?"

"I like it," she says. "Unique for the area, and it rolls off the tongue nicely. Enough syllables to shout out into the yard to call her inside at night."

They leave her with a reminder that they're lodging just down the way, should Roach be needed again.

Izzy notices the father isn't in the house, or nearby outside, but he doesn't ask Roach about it. It's not really his business.

"I'm taking a bath," Roach sighs, stripping as they walk into the room. "Mind if I go first?"

"Go for it," Izzy drops to the floor and yanks off his boots. No point in getting blood on the bedding. "I wonder when the crew plans to come back for us."

"I told them to give us at least a week," Roach says as he dumps part of the room's small water cask into the metal tub. "I want to make sure Mum and Baby are alright before I leave. And we get a sort of vacation in the meantime."

"There's no hostages here for you to torture," Izzy jokes.

"Maybe we'll find some," Roach says, slipping into the tub.

"You don't want that warmed?"

"I honestly don't care right now," Roach replies. "Did Stede leave us any of that good soap?"

"He left an entire care basket, with a note to return whatever we don't use," Izzy scoffs. "I should have expected that."

"At least he left something," Roach says, hands held out as Izzy tosses over a bar of soap. "Can I ask you something?"

"I suppose. You wouldn't mention it if you thought it was something I'd stab you over, so..."

"As if I couldn't take you."

Izzy grins. "We already know you can."

A chunk of the bar of soap smacks him in the face.

"I deserved that," Izzy wipes a bit of soap off his cheek. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"Do you remember kissing me?"

"During the transfusion?" Izzy asks. "Yeah. Why?"

Roach blushes. "Just wanted to know. It was really sweet."

"Well, you did a good job keeping both of us alive," Izzy says. "And I barely felt a thing."

"That's because I gave you a fuck ton of morphine."

"Like I was saying, you're a good doctor."

Roach sighs softly. "Am I really?"

"I think so."

Roach climbs out of the tub and wraps a towel around his waist. "I'll get fresh water-"

"Go lay down," Izzy interrupts. "I can take care of this. You've been up and moving and stressed for hours. If they come calling for you, I'll wake you up."

"I love you," Roach smiles. "I'm gonna grab another towel and collapse on the bed I think."

He takes a moment to let it sink in. He likes hearing that, after all. "I love you too."

After a bit, he can hear Roach softly snoring, and he lets his head rest back against the end of the bed.

The bathwater can wait another minute or two.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

hiiiii i'm here to give you a big hug and request a 1k prompt 🙌

1. a biiiiiig hug

2. as for the (hehe smutty) prompt!

i think i would LOVE to see ed feeling vulnerable and safe enough to share with stede that a lot of things don't work for him in bed because of his knee and at first he is cautious and worries stede will get angry or frustrated with him, but of course stede showers him with love and care and thinks of a hundred ways to have sex that are not painful or uncomfortable for him 🫶

Ooh I really loved this one, thanks so much for sending it in (and sending you a hug right back)! Get absolutely adored and cherished Ed!!

Under the cut since this one's a bit nsfw! I'd put it at a strong M rating, no explicit sexual content but obviously it's about sex.

Ed had never really owned up to how fucking inconvenient the knee could make things, not before.

See, there are certain things that are mood- killers, and then there are things that are straight-up dangerous to admit, and Ed’s little problem was both. The hookups Ed was used to wouldn’t just laugh at him for being in pain during sex, they would’ve taken it as a sign of weakness. A sign that Ed was vulnerable, weak, easy to exploit and to harm. 

So, usually, he just put up with it. If it was awful, like if a guy pushed his legs back, forcing the knee to bend at a harsh angle, he might find some excuse to change it up, but usually he just closed his eyes and hoped his grunts of discomfort sounded pleasured instead of pained. He would close his eyes, after, breathing through the pain, vowing that he’d never have sex in a painful position again for the rest of his life, cautiously listening to make sure whatever guy he’d taken to bed wasn’t trying to pull any shit. Rinse and repeat a few weeks later.

Stede, though. Talk about a hell of a difference.

He’d figured out that Ed didn’t like some things, Ed thought. He never held down Ed’s bad leg, never forced the knee to bend. Rubbed the joint so tenderly after sex. And that maybe should’ve made it easier to admit to his problem, but Stede made Ed feel so good, and he wanted to return the favor, and…

“Ed, honey, you’re somewhere else tonight.”

Ed sniffed, shifted. They’d been breaking in their new bed (still called it that, even though they’d been breaking it in for a couple months now), and he was half in Stede’s lap, legs flung across Stede’s thighs. He should’ve felt perfect.

“Sorry,” he whispered, and when Stede’s light, appraising touches traveled down his leg, rubbing lightly at his knee, he hissed, the pain making him flinch involuntarily.

Stede kissed his fingertips, then touched them feather-light to Ed’s knee. “Does it hurt?”

“Just stiff,” Ed said dismissively.

Stede just hummed. Ed knew he wouldn’t force the issue.

“I, uh…” Ed cleared his throat. “What would you say if I said I didn’t think I should ride you anymore?”

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the anger on Stede’s face -

“I’d say that was fine,” Stede said easily. “Why? Does it make your knee hurt when we do that?”

“Maybe a little,” Ed admitted softly.

“Okay,” Stede said, and he positioned his hands around Ed’s knee, rubbing his thumbs gently along the sore, tender joint, working out the stiffness of exertion. Ed hissed, his face scrunching up at the sensation, and Stede just cooed soft apologies.

That was - that was it, though, wasn’t it? Ed knew he was safe to let Stede see him in pain. Stede hadn’t ever gotten angry or frustrated with him for being in pain or needing help with his knee before, why would this be any different?

“Um,” Ed started haltingly, “I actually think maybe we might need to be a little more careful. During intercourse. With my knee. If that sounds alright to you. Maybe.”

When he opened his eyes, Stede was getting that pinched line between his eyebrows.

“Ed?” Stede pulled Ed a bit more securely into his arms, and Ed sighed in satisfaction at the feeling of Stede’s arms around his waist. “Have you been hurting? While we have sex? Have I been hurting you?”

“Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, I’m just…” Stede let his breath out in a long sigh. “I don’t want to ever do anything that hurts you. Not ever. Especially not when we’re trying to do something that’ll make us both feel good. How can I help keep you comfortable?”

“Well…” Ed grimaced. “Bending my knee is what hurts the most.”

“Alright,” Stede said thoughtfully, and Ed could see the wheels turning in his head. Taking out positions that required Ed to bend his knee took so much off the table. Riding, giving blowjobs, even fucking missionary, and Ed was a bit terrified he’d just ruined their sex life.

Clearly, he’d underestimated Stede Bonnet’s creativity. 

Ed should’ve known he was in for a treat when he caught Stede woodworking in the backyard and was given a full presentation about all the features of the “blowjob stool” he was building, a seat designed to cushion and support Ed’s knee while putting him at perfect dick-sucking height. 

Stede was endlessly thoughtful when adapting positions they already liked, too. Ed liked being taken from behind; they discovered that a pillow under his hips kept him comfortable and allowed him to keep his legs straight. When Ed missed looking into Stede’s eyes during sex, they experimented with variously supporting his knee with pillows or propping his ankle on Stede’s shoulder. Spooning, bent over a desk, the good ol’ 69… not all of Stede’s ideas or little inventions worked, but the ideas he had for supports to keep Ed comfortable meant it was the best sex Ed had ever had, full stop. It was really damn nice to be able to enjoy himself without worrying about being in pain.

The best parts, though, weren’t just the sex itself.

They’d found that Ed’s knee was least painful when his muscles were relaxed and when he was feeling good, so they often had a warm bath first. It was fun foreplay, and relaxing together while Stede rubbed tiger balm into the joint in the afterglow was the perfect way to snuggle and talk about what they’d enjoyed.

“I’m glad I told you,” Ed whispered one night, tracing their initials over Stede’s heart as they cuddled, Ed’s bad leg slung over Stede’s hip to keep it propped up.

“Me, too,” Stede said, kissing Ed’s cheek.

Ed was learning, still, that he’d never have to just put up with pain again. And it was soft, soft, as smooth and sweet as honey.

[random-red-ramblings]

This fic is now finished! Read the whole chapter on ao3

Frenchie finished with a flourish of lively strumming, the crew cheering, clapping and stomping their feet. In the commotion Ed held Stede tight from behind, lifted him off the deck and spun around.

Stede wouldn't say that he squealed, but it was a rather high-pitched noise of surprise that quickly dissolved into laughter.

"Ed! Ed! I rather think I'm dizzy enough already, thank you!"

They slowed to a stop, and Stede's feet gently touched solid wood. Ed's hand rested at his elbow and guided Stede to turn and face him, (as if Stede needed encouragement on that front).

"Well, if you need to slow things down… may I have this dance, Captain Bonnet?"

Ed bowed low, one arm against his chest, the other swept out to the side, his eyes never leaving Stede's for a second. The more emotionally sensitive members of the crew gasped and oo-ed, vocalising what Stede's heart experienced.

"You may, Captain Teach."

Stede offered his hand. Ed took it, kissed it, and pulled Stede forward by it as he straightened up. Stede took the opportunity to kiss him, soft and chaste and grateful.

"Right lads!" Ed called to the band. "We need a beat like this."

He clapped to demonstrate his desired rhythm until Wee John copied him.

"I can sing something romantic?" The Swede offered.

"Don't encourage them," Jim groaned.

"That'd be fucking ideal mate," Ed gave him a thumbs-up, opting to ignore any playful grumbling entirely.

Then Ed neatly stepped away, getting into position for a minuet. Stede mirrored him, thinking of nothing but how much he loved this beautiful, sensitive, brilliant, wonderful man.

Ed was perfect, he didn't put a foot wrong, and Stede felt so proud of him. He still gave a cursory glance downwards, but otherwise his eyes were fixed on Stede, blessing him with smiles of tender, vulnerable joy that he only entrusted to Stede. Stede didn't think he could feel any luckier, any more blessed, than in that moment.

He could sense the crew watching, but wasn't affected by it. It wasn't long before they wanted to join in anyway - swinging each other around, marching up and down the deck with a partner with increasingly ridiculous and exaggerated steps. Their own faultless minuet eventually descended into such silliness and laughter.

And it was still perfect.

Stede didn't even notice the first drops of rain, but it quickly became heavy. Large cold drops pelted him, but Ed didn't stop dancing, didn't stop smiling, so neither did Stede.

"Oh, come on," Lucius yelled. "It's time to take it downstairs."

"Captains!" Wee John boomed at them.

"Fucks sake, leave them to go overboard if they don't have any fucking sense." Izzy had apparently returned to be a voice of reason when the crew would actually listen.

Stede ignored him on principle, spinning Ed around again. Ed laughed, Izzy swore, and everyone left them alone with the rain.

It became difficult to keep his footing as the deck got more slippery and the ship began to rock more forcefully, but he clung to Ed who had expert sealegs and felt safe. When Ed's leg buckled under him, it was Stede that stopped him falling, catching him in a dip.

They looked at each other, stunned, breathless, soaking and happy. Stede leaned in to kiss Ed's smile.

A wave buffeted the ship, almost making them both topple down but they clung to each other and the rigging.

I forgot what the storm would do to your knee.

"I forgot-" Stede started, before realising his voice was entirely lost in the wind and rain.

He thought he knew what Ed's answer would be.

It's a good job you made me wear the brace.

Maybe even with an added 'thanks, love', if he was lucky.

Together they fought their way to the stairs, and as soon as they were in that walkway, protected from the elements, Stede could hear his heart thudding in his ears. He was trembling, and not just from the cold.

[avastyetwats]

At Last

Continued from here. @izzyeffinhands

Stede's smile only grows and never fades when Israel continues to sing. It's only his voice that Stede wants to hear, and truly, it's only his voice that he does hear. That beautiful voice that Stede Bonnet fell in love with, that euphonious voice that changed his life for the better. Since the first night he heard it above his balcony and every night that followed. It filled him with muse, it filled him with inspiration, it filled him with life and even more so the night they finally met. The night they kissed. The night they held each other. They were practically inseparable since that first night.

Now here they were hidden away in a cabin on the beach, dancing naked in the living room with their song playing, but more importantly, with Israel singing it. And when he presses his cheek against his and sings the line that matches with his action, Stede lets out a soft giggle and rubs his cheek against his, but then their bodies suddenly come apart. Izzy spins him under his arm, out and then pulls him back in and Stede laughs - breathless. His smile wide as can be which happens in time with the song and he's pressing a kiss to Izzy's finger when it touches his lips. Oh, how he wants to kiss him in this moment, but he doesn't want to interrupt his singing, especially now when he's so into it himself. As though he's putting on a show for thousands which Stede is sure would bring as many people if not more. Oh, so much more, he's sure of it.

But right now, tonight, it's for Stede. He's singing for him, to him, and there are tears in his eyes not just because he's singing to him, but because his voice is just so breathtakingly beautiful, the writer is in awe of it. Especially as he sings louder. Louder than the song itself and that's what he wanted. He wanted his voice to fill the cabin, he wanted his voice to echo out into the night. He wanted Izzy to sing his heart out whenever he desired, however often he desired, because that voice deserved to be heard. It deserved to be loved, to be appreciated, to be cherished which is everything Stede Bonnet did and more. He cherished and treasured all of Israel Hands and the way he was looking at him with tears in his eyes conveyed that.

Suddenly he's being spun out again and he stands still, listening as Izzy finishes that line before he's pulling Stede back in. Their naked bodies come back together and this time Stede is dipped, Izzy's strong arms holding him steady as he sings the last of the song and gods, he can feel his muscular chest vibrating against his own. Chills shoot up his spine, bumps appearing all over his skin, as Izzy's voice fills the cabin and his own body, sending his heart soaring into the night sky, his eyes shining with tears never leaving the man above him, gazing up at him as though he's the god of music himself. And to Stede, he is. Oh, he's that and so much more. He's just everything.

In complete awe of him, Stede's hand moves from his arm to his face, cupping it so gently before he leans up to kiss him while he's still dipped. It's a sweet kiss that turns deep, but remains slow and sweet. Passionate. A thank you for his singing, for his love, for just... him. He whispers every word of praise he can think of against his lips, sounding out of breath as he speaks, as he kisses him, yet feeling so full of life and energy. Joyous. Awestruck. Even aroused. How could he not be after that performance and from being held against him like this? "What are my chances of an encore should I request one?" Stede questions with a breathless laugh, but he means it. Oh, does he mean it. He kisses him again. "The God of music himself, and the Goddess of beauty, have nothing on you, Israel. Nothing." Another kiss, still holding his face with one hand while the other rests on his chest, over his heart, that beats in time with his own.

[gaps-between-stories]

Fic Preview

A sneak peek of my series Sweet Nothings, a verse filled with so so many babies!

Charlotte ran right up to where Stede sat next to the bassinet, reaching up for him to pick her up.

Ed immediately stepped forward to try and corral her with a quick "Char," but Stede just waved him off.

"Oh she's fine, darling. Come here, my love." Stede pulled her into his lap, nuzzling his face into her crown of soft curls to deeply inhale her scent.

Ed could see the way Stede physically relaxed afterwards, shoulders easing the tension they'd been clinging onto for the past few days. Stede pressed kisses along her temple, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close. Amazingly, she didn't squirm away from him.

"Is that the baby?" she asked, voice nearly a whisper as her wide eyes traveled over everything, taking it all of the lines and machines. Her hands reached up into Stede's hair, fingers tangling in the soft yellow curls as if on instinct.

Stede gently rocked them back and forth as he spoke, keeping his voice low and gentle. "Yes love, that's the new baby. That's your sister, Scout."

Charlotte's tongue tasted the name, slowly letting it swirl around in her mouth as she sounded it out.

She held out her hand to the newborn, opening and closing her fist in her approximation of a wave.

"Sweet girl," Stede murmured against her hair. "Would you like to see her closer?" He asked, brushing a stray curl out of her face and tucking it behind her ear.

Charlotte eagerly nodded, allowing herself to be hoisted onto Stede's hip as he drew them closer to the bassinet.

She peered down through the acrylic at the sleeping infant, studying Scout like one of her favorite books.

[jellybeanium124]

Stede unclasped his hands and tried to stand normally. But telling yourself to "stand normally" inevitably doomed you to stand abnormally.

Ed chuckled. "What are you doing? Now you look like a puppet with a drunkard pulling your strings."

"I don't know!" Stede said, a little more hotly than the situation warranted. "Trying not to stand like a puppy, I guess..."

"Aw, no mate, it's really cute. I like how you stand."

The line moved forward a bit, giving Stede an excuse to move and reset himself.

"I always forget how much standing in line happens at amusement parks," Ed said, annoyed. He started bouncing his left leg absentmindedly.

Stede noticed, and his mouth pinched slightly. Ed looked at him and studied his face carefully.

"What?"

"Hm? Nothing."

"That's your Something Nothing."

"What?"

"That's how you say 'nothing' when it's actually definitely something."

Stede sighed. "It's really nothing."

"C'mon love. We'll probably be stuck here for another 20 minutes."

Stede accepted his fate. There was no getting out of this. "Well, I just suddenly thought about this trip to New York my family did when I was a child. We saw a concert at Carnegie Hall, but we had to wait in the foyer for a while before getting to our seats. It was some kind of cocktail hour thing? I don't really remember. There was nothing there for me. I was 10, there weren't any other kids there. Not that I would've been brave enough to go talk to them if there had been. And there wasn't any place to hide a book in my stupid little suit. So after about 30 minutes of standing around and being bored out of my skull, I start acting all bratty, and my father gives me a little bap on the ear and told me to stand still and shut up. I know that's not... I know how I sound telling that story..."

"What do you mean, 'how you sound?'"

Stede flushed a bit red and looked at his shoes. "Like a spoiled brat..." he said quietly.

"Your dad hit you."

"No, not really, I mean it was just a little slap. Open-handed. It didn't even really hurt, or leave a mark even--"

"Stede, no, stop, please. Your dad was awful. And you're not some snobby rich guy. I've dealt with a lot of snobby rich guys. I know the type very well. And that's not you. And I'm guessing that this was just one time out of several, anyways. A time that stuck out to you because it was a special occasion."

Stede nodded. "Yeah... I just sort of learned that if I held my hands together and gently bit my tongue it was easier to keep still and quiet..."

Ed gave him a look with the biggest eyes for that. "I'm never gonna be mad at you for that, Stede. You're never upset with me for squirming, are you? And you were 10. And 30 minutes is a long time when there's nobody around for you to talk to and you don't have a book or phone or anything."

Stede imagined little 10-year-old Ed trapped in a room full of boring adults talking about... taxes and mutual bonds or something, unable to escape. He imagined little Ed having to stand still and quiet all through that. He didn't want to imagine anything else happening to little Ed. But if little Ed started to get restless after a full half an hour (or, at least what felt like half an hour to a 10-year-old), then Stede absolutely wouldn't blame him at all. Stede would want to rescue little Ed from all the boring adult talk to talk about something cool like mermaids or dinosaurs, and let him sit down because his feet hurt from standing in dress shoes for so long.

Ed gently took Stede's hand in his own. "Puppies are meant to wag their tails, you know."

It was so silly Stede couldn't help but giggle, and Ed giggled too.

"It's too bad I don't have a tail, then."

"Oh, I bet it'd be so cute!! A fluffy golden retriever tail or something. It'd be so soft."

Ed said it with such adoration and love Stede couldn't help but kiss him.

"Your tail would be fluffy too."

"No it wouldn't! It'd be sleek."

"Nope! It'd be a big fluffy main coon tail. You can't change the facts, Edward."

Ed faked a pout and they both started giggling again. Stede squeezed Ed's hand, and Ed squeezed back.

A very long time ago, Stede learned that it was best for him to be still and quiet. And while nowadays the words "still" and "quiet" would not be in the top 50 his friends would use to describe him (some would even say that "quiet" is an antonym to Stede Bonnet), certain ingrained habits were hard to drop. But it was easier with Ed by his side. How many times had Stede witnessed an old habit of Ed's and opened his eyes to the fact that he didn't have to live that way anymore? Maybe Stede deserved to be on the receiving end of that interaction. Maybe. And if he thought about it while bouncing a little or twiddling his fingers and playing with his rings, that was okay.

stede and ed will be standing in line for a thing engaging in a rare bout of comfortable silence. stede will be standing straight with his hands clasped behind his back, and ed will say "you stand like a very polite puppy," and then not elaborate. stede doesn't know what to do about that.