#omfd fic

[bloodwrittenballad]

Rotten Work | Izzy Hands x Reader

Summary: You never break a promise

Warnings: Swearing, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of blood and injuries, established relationship, reader is gender neutral, not proofread!! first time writing for the ol’ wet rat man, i love him

Izzy didn’t want to be seen.

Scratch that, he just didn’t want to be seen by you.

After the “incident” with Blackbeard and losing his toe, there was a shift. A major one. You could see it, the pain on his face and in his soul. Though he hid his emotions well, you could still read him like the back of your hand. You two were married, after all.

That wasn’t all though, course it wasn’t. Even after all these years spent together, going to literal hell and back you still managed to pull through every time. This time, however, it felt like Izzy was giving up. Not just on you and your relationship, but himself, as well.

It pained you greatly, knowing that the man you loved more than life itself was going through the unimaginable and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Because Blackbeard wouldn’t allow it.

Because Izzy wouldn’t accept it.

Time after time you tried to get him to let you in, to let you help him, countless nights spent outside his door - the cabin you once shared, before Blackbeard decided to ruin that. He forbid you from even being near Izzy. The closest you could get to him now was to sleep in the hallway, and having to put up with hearing as his soft snores turned into hushed cries when he woke up from yet another nightmare.

You couldn’t do this any longer. He, couldn’t do this any longer. Your time with Izzy had already been cut short due to being forced away from one another, and now you were worried it was going to happen permanently.

Izzy was strong, you knew that, course you did. But what would be the straw that broke the camels back? One person can only endure so much before it all becomes too much, so what would that be?

And when?

After another near sleepless night, you had to fight tooth and nail to make sure you were on deck before Blackbeard decided to make himself present for the day. And god, when he did, well… you just wished he hadn’t. Apparently the last few days you and the crew spent raiding and slaughtering any ship you could find wasn’t enough, because Blackbeard wanted more.

Hasn’t he taken enough?

To mark the matters of the day worse, the ship you raided just so happened to be a wedding. The already impossibly tight knots in your stomach worsened, as you were forced to play a pawn in his little game and tear apart what should’ve been a special day for the newlyweds. Soon, white became splattered with red as you cruelly and savagely sliced apart the bride.

And even when it was all over, you could still hear her soul shattering screams as she cried out for her lover.

You felt sick, not being able to stomach the thought of eating right now. Blackbeard decided to take the cake, now seemingly kind enough to divvy out some for the crew. No one ate any, all too tired and burnt out from the countless other slaughters from the day before. This just seemed like over kill. Heh. Literally.

The others tried making idle conversation, wanting to lighten up the atmosphere, but what could be said right now? It was all so, so… poisonous. At least, that’s how Jim put it. Yeah, was a good word for it. Man, if only you knew how badly those words would bite you in the ass later on.

Word got back to Blackbeard, as it always did.

He wasn’t too happy in what was said. Now, as you all stood before him on the deck, desperately trying not to break when he waved his gun around at the crew when he made them all go around and state that the atmosphere wasn’t poison, it was your turn.

“And you, dear little y/n Handsssss,” he dragged on your last name teasingly. So much malice, so much madness in his eyes. “Do you think the atmosphere on this ship is poison?” Gun pointed at your head, a man you once trusted behind it, the man you loved standing behind him. Izzy. Your eyes, tearful and pained, found his pleading ones. “No,” you let out a gasp, closing your eyes and letting a stray tear fall.

It felt like ages before Blackbeard got through the whole crew, but he wasn’t done yet. When you opened your eyes again, you were met with the sight of him now holding the gun up to his own chin. You looked at Izzy, who refused to look back at you.

Until he did, a fire inside of them that you hadn’t seen in a while. “Fucking end!” he yelled, and that’s when all hell broke loose. The gun went off, so loud and so deafening. Damning. Haunting. Red, a color you began to hate so deeply, starting to stain the wooden floor beneath you. And Izzy… oh, Izzy.

Oh god, you couldn’t breathe. Izzy, now laying on the deck, screaming in pain and bleeding, so close and yet so far from you. The next few moments of your life went by in a blur, and yet you felt like you were moving in slow motion.

You’re not sure who helped you down below deck, you just remembered someone gently scooping you up into their arms as they followed where Izzy was taken to.

And that’s where you where now, where you have been for what felt like days now. His hand was tightly clutched in yours, the grip you had never wavering, even when Izzy was in and out of consciousness, muttering widely and thrashing about.

Your presence and loyalty never wavered, either. Not even when he finally came to, for real, and wouldn’t look you in the eye. Too afraid to find judgement or resentment in your eyes, but those are feelings you would never know how to feel towards him, anyways.

“Iz, please,” you tried to plea. Over and over. You needed him to talk to you, needed to hear his voice. But he just… wouldn’t. He couldn’t. It was bad enough that you had to see him like this, so how the hell was he supposed to keep himself composed and not break into pieces if he trusted himself to talk?

“Izzy, please, just… talk to me.” your voice was so quiet, so gentle, but the pain was there. He couldn’t just hear it, he could feel it too. Your pain was his pain, and his pain yours. The both of you were hurting, for reasons both the same and not.

Hell, Izzy realizes. He’s putting you through hell.

“My love, please. Please,” you cried. The grip you had was beginning to falter, showing him just how tired you really were. He kept his eyes down, off and away from you. His chest rose up and down, tense with the words he wanted to say but didn’t know how. Maybe you’ll get so fed and and just leave him there to rot, as he deserved. He put you all through this mess, you didn’t need to be the one cleaning it up…

But you, being you, stubborn and hardheaded as always, weren’t going to give up so easily. He thought maybe you were, when you released your hand from his, standing up in the meantime. He closed his eyes, thinking this is it. You were going to walk out that door, where you’d never enter from again, leaving him alone to hide in the guilt and shame he felt.

Instead, gentle but firm hands cupped his cheeks, the warmth of them making Izzy open his eyes and meet yours. Finally. You looked down at your, with love and worry and… fire. “Now, you listen here, Izzy Hands. I know, okay, I know it hurts. But it’s me, you can trust me. You have to trust me, Iz. I’m here, I’m here and I love you and I’m not going to leave, even if you want me to. I am here, and so are you… and god damn it, it’s been forever since it’s been just the two of us. We’re safe, we’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe, I promise. I’ll take care of you, I just… I need you to let me. Let me take care of you, please.”

Izzy lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes never once leaving yours as he replays the words, “you’re safe,” and “i’ll take care of you.” that was supposed to be his job, he was supposed to say that to you. Yes, you were married and yes it was a promise you both made, but he was Izzy fucking Hands, he was supposed to be the protector.

“Izzy,” you stated again, your voice still gentle but firm. Izzy’s tired, teary eyes met yours. He looked so fragile, even more so as you placed your hand on his. “I’ll take care of you,” you promised. Izzy whimpered, “you shouldn’t have to, its rotten work.” he all but whimpered, his face heavy and scrunched in pain. A part of your heart cracked upon hearing the words, because he sounded so defeated.

You shook your head, stroking his hand with your thumb. “Not to me,” you said with finality in your voice. “not if it’s you…”

Izzy’s eyes found yours once more, hating the way your voice cracked when you said that. The walls Izzy began to build up high were slowly but surely coming down, his reluctancy to let you aid him diminishing by the second. “okay,” he said softly, a ghost of a smile on his lips. A smile meet yours as well, “okay.” you nod, hand still in his as you raise it to your lips in a gentle kiss.

“We will get through this, Izzy. I promise. I meant it when I said in sickness and health.”

“I know.” Izzy replied, “and you never break a promise.”

[pukner]

Baz | part two

a steddyhands twt thread turned oneshot

|| Rated Gen || Stede and Ed take a brief vacation to visit Stede's family, and find a surprise.

part one / part two

It's a small shack, nearly a cottage, nestled neatly by the edge of the jungle, where few wander. The path is clearly only walked by a few.

It's-- nice. Like a dream someone else might've had. It's certainly never occurred to Ed to dream of a place like this for himself-- small and unassuming, nothing particularly fine or exciting or remarkable about it.

There's a girl, with a riot of blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, going through various fighting drills in the garden. Dressed practically, sturdy boots and worn trousers. Her movements are as familiar to Ed as his own. Which makes sense, considering who taught Ed the finer points of using a sword.

There's a boy sitting by the porch, and next to him is a man, cane propped up next to him.

He looks good, is the thing. Less strain around the eyes. Older, thinner, less muscle tone. But there's something softer around his mouth. Something gentle about his eyes. He looks up at the exact moment the girl does.

His eyebrows fly up. Ed doesn't know what his face is doing.

"Dad!" say the kids as one, looking moderately pleased.

"Childr--wait, Izzy?" yells Stede, flabbergasted. Which is fair.

"Jesus Christ," says Iz, looking resigned, "Fucking Mary."

"You cursed again!" says Louis, delighted.

"And I won't stop," says Iz, flatly. Then, quietly, "Ed."

"Iz," says Ed.

"Did you know," Stede hisses, rounding on Ed.

"I figured it out the second she said he was a terrible gossip," Ed says, pitching his voice so it would carry.

Izzy's face loses that strange, sad cast and scowls, "I've never gossiped a day in my life, Edward Teach."

"But you do?" says Louis, innocently.

Yeah, like, all the time," says Alma, "with Miss Evelyn and mum, you guys get drunk and--"

"Alright," says Izzy, in the same tone as when the crew gets too uppity, "Why don't we head inside for some fucking drinks. Jesus."

He leans heavy on his cane as he walks. Ed watches him, wonders what human flesh tastes like. Stede looks at him, can clearly read the thought on his face, and pulls him along. The kids are told to stay outside. Grown-up talks, says Iz, and he sounds like a dad. It's hilarious.

It must be said, Ed's extremely fucking confused. He's never seen Iz like this; all unbuttoned and relaxed. No sword at his hip.

He pulls out a bottle of whiskey.

"It's barely noon," says Stede.

"I'm not having this conversation sober."

"You wanna talk?" says Ed, hopefully.

Iz levels him with an expression of supreme judgment. Ed's really missed his bitchy little face. He also realizes that Stede has a very similar bitchy little face. Is his type just bitchy little men? Is this why he broke up with Jack?

They end up at the table, day drinking.

"I'm not going back," Izzy says, firmly. He seems like a different man. Ed thinks his heart might be breaking. Some horrid, cruel part of him hates Izzy for getting better without him there.

Then, abruptly, he realizes that this is the exact same horrid feeling Iz had about Stede. Silence, again.

"The children seem to like you," Stede says, apropos of nothing.

"They're good kids. That Alma's going to be terrifying one day."

"I don't doubt it," says Stede, "I've heard good things about your beets, by the way."

Iz looks at Ed, baffled. Ed shrugs. Maybe Stede just really likes beets.

"We've been thinking about visiting the children more often," Stede goes on, in that weird airy tone of his, "More shore leaves."

"...we have?" says Ed.

"Yes, Edward," says Stede, pointedly. Ed doesn't give a rat's ass about the children. He nods anyway.

"...good for you?" says Iz, confused, "I don't care?"

Stede nudges Ed. Ed nudges him back. Stede stares at him.

Wait, oh. "Can we visit?" asks Ed.

"Why would you want to?" asks Iz, "You fucking hate being on land."

"I'd do it for you," Ed says.

Izzy blinks, startled. That hurts. He deserves it, though.

"Because you love me," he says, slowly.

"And I've unfortunately grown somewhat fond of you," Stede adds, in the manner of someone delivering some very bad news.

"What," says Izzy.

"My fault," says Ed.

"I don't feel murderous rage when I look at you anymore," Izzy informs Stede, "That's all you're getting."

"I'll take it," says Stede, looking determined.

Ed knows that look. Doggedly determined, this one. Iz is about to be wooed. No idea what he's just signed up for, poor guy.

Nothing's been solved, of course. Ed still tastes blood in his mouth, Izzy's never going to walk the same again, Stede still has very little idea of how deep this whole thing goes. But it's a start.

Outside, the kids are laughing. Iz has eased up, doesn't look so small.

"So," says Ed, grinning all shit-eating. Because they haven't solved it, and he'll never be his First Mate again, but Ed has permission to try. Which is a big improvement from Past Tense Iz, "Tell me about your beets, Iz."

"Shut the fuck up, Ed," says Iz, but he's grinning back.

They'll be fine. Or, they'll eventually be fine. They'll get there.

And, actually, someone should do something about the Mary-Jackie alliance. Can't let that go unsupervised. Imagine the fucking havoc they'd wreak.

End

[pirategrime]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Our Flag Means Death (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Israel Hands Characters: Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Israel Hands Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Body Modification, Dubious Consent, Torture, Non-Negotiated Kink, Wire Play, Electricity, Bondage, Restraints, Sadism, Painplay, Coming Untouched, Dom Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Sub Israel Hands, technically 'hand stuff' but not in the way you'd think, Noncon Fantasy, insufficient aftercare, Masochism Summary:

Normally, Izzy keeps all his inconvenient Edward feelings locked in a Faraday cage somewhere in the back of his mind while simultaneously letting them influence every decision in his life. It’s both agonizing and mundane. But he manages. Mostly.

But god, if Ed doesn't make it hard.

[activevirtues]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Our Flag Means Death (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet Characters: Stede Bonnet, Lucius Spriggs, Frenchie (Our Flag Means Death), Roach (Our Flag Means Death) Additional Tags: Stede Bonnet Needs a Hug, the real magic was the friends we made along the way, Eventual Smut, Summoning Circles, Do You Think They Speak Ecclesiastical Latin?, Alternate Universe - Magic, @ofmdjanuaury 2023 Summary:

“Oh, man. Did you… did you ask the sea for its gift while you were actually on the sea? …Mate.” The creature took a step toward Stede, then another, until Stede was backed up fully against the desk. “You didn’t read anything in the book but the spell, did you?”

“I - I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Stede squeaked, leaving dignity fully behind him. No wonder his apprentice had threatened so many times to leave him.

---

In which Stede is not a very good sorcerer, and Ed is the sea demon whose summoning he didn't get quite right.

[sourassin]

Think I worked out how to fix it?

(Buyer beware this is very much a WIP)

~~~

The deck tilts, and suddenly a storm’s upon them, and there’s no body in his arms, but there’s a sword at his throat. He doesn’t recognise the owner—no, maybe he does, one of the hungry young bastards he’d left on the Queen Anne. He’s saying, “—might be a genius, but if you carry on like this you’ll get us all killed, and I’m not going to—“

“Izzy,” gasps Ed. “Where’s Izzy?”

“Who?”

“Izzy? Wait, Izzy Hands?” That’s Fang. “Shit, he really is losing it. Hands disappeared years ago.”

“He was right here,” says Ed. He staggers to his feet, bats the mutineer’s sword aside. “He was—“ The deck tilts, or maybe it’s just Ed—he has to clutch at Fang to stay upright. “He killed himself. Why would he do that?”

“I—I don’t know, Captain,” says Fang carefully.

“He’s not Captain,” hisses the mutineer.

“Fuck off,” says Ed, only half his mind on it. The other half is racing. Izzy killed himself, but not before he—his younger self—had given Ed the little ring he’d worn at his neck for as long as Ed had known him, and told him it had always been Ed’s. Izzy had killed his younger self, and now Ed was back on the Queen Anne’s Revenge with no Izzy and no Stede and a crew mid-mutiny—the sword was back at his throat.

“Who’s first mate?” Ed asks, and the crew look askance.

“No-one, since O’Brien carked it on that Spanish frigate,” says Fang.

Ed hums, and takes a step closer to the mutineer. “You seem a likely lad—want the job?”

“Why would I want to be first mate when I could be captain?” he spits back.

“Well, no,” says Ed, tilting his head to take the young man’s measure. He barely feels the sting of the blade biting his skin. “You’re not that likely.” He taps his knife where it rests against the mutineer’s crotch, and the man blanches.

He can feel the Kraken slithering out from the dark—he kicks it back down. He has to be Blackbeard—sharp and mad, not reckless and mean and lost—until he can undo what Izzy—

Izzy killed his younger self, and now Ed can feel the twenty-odd years of their past together slipping away from him, like it never happened at all.

Except there’s a ring in his hand, barely big enough to fit his pinkie. Izzy’s ring, that’s always been Ed’s.

There’s a clatter as the mutineer’s sword drops to the deck. Ed smiles. “Good lad.”

There’s a plan swirling in his head. A mad plan—not a fuckery, or a wild, improvised raid, but a plan of madness, based on a rumour so wild he’d dismissed it outright.

“New heading, lads,” he says.

He once heard a rumour, about a storm, and a ship lost with all hands, even though he’d seen the lot of them cutting about off the Carolinas not three months later.

“North,” he tells them. “Step to it lads, look fucking lively. We’re going to find the Whydah Gally.”

Sam Bellamy married a witch.

…tbc

Credit goes to @piratingsoup on Twitter for infecting my brain with Young Izzy meeting Old Izzy ideas

[ofmdlovelyletters]

Veeagainsttheday, you are a PHENOMENAL writer. I think about The Kissing Game all the time; it is canon To Me. You're so talented and creative and you write with such emotional depth; every fic I read of yours I know will be a favorite. Thank you for sharing them with us.

Hi @veeagainsttheday! You've received a lovely letter.

Crew, you can see her fic here. 💌

[aliencatwafers]

‏Welcome 👋

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Please Share Or Replog Or Donate For My Family 🙏😭🍉❤️

‏You can donate through my link in my bio 👇

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[morganasmissus]

i’ve seen the scenes and all i have to say?

i’m giving all the fic authors until i get off work tomorrow and then i will be expecting a whole wave of heart-wrenching, wet cat held by its scruff level, Izzy Hands fics thank you. i trust y’all will not disappoint-

[animangalover-writes]

Something about bad writing/devastating character deaths motivates me to write. Like my frustration comes out in fix-it fics.

[ybyrx]

Hey!

If you’re a fan of OFMD and The King in Yellow, then the perfect fic has already been written by CandleJam (tumblr @mysteriouslybluepirate) for this year’s @ofmdbigbang!

It’s called The Unraveling Braid and I did the art!

After a suspiciously easy raid, Izzy gifts a book to Stede, the sea growing still. His wandering dreams about an older Stede dressed in gold must be his mind fighting the boredom. Now, stranded out in the open sea, what else is there to do but read the ‘King in Yellow’.

💛

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ In the not too distant future, Ed and Stede have a conversation about 'the mistake.' Yes Mary Read is puking, so sue me.

For @fictober-event’s Fictober 2023 prompt: “If you don't stop now-"

Masterpost of my Fictober OFMD fics

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death Characters/Relationships: Stede Bonnet, Ed Teach. Ed x Stede MAJOR SPOILERS FOR EP 7. Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Trauma CW: this fic deals in detail with sexual trauma based on (canonical) mutually consensual but unhealthy or later regretted encounters.

Beautiful

It’s Ed who has Stede up against the wall tonight. His hands dig into that loose, light, wonderful shirt and lift, so they can really appreciate the feel of his belly as he writhes with pleasure and passion and need. Stede moans breathlessly into his mouth as Ed kisses across his lips and his cheek and down his neck, and the last time he’d tried this it got a good response so he gives a little lick and a touch of the teeth against Stede’s collar bone. He’s expecting the smouldering embers of desire to roar up at it, for Stede’s hands to dig into his hair like they so love to do, but Stede’s response is lacklustre. Hm. Maybe he’s not doing it right, or maybe Stede’s just not feeling that one tonight.

“Ed?”

“Mmnyeah?” He’s thinking, maybe I’ll try the ear this time.

“Stop.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The steam fizzles, only the ghost of it lingering in the air. His lips leave the skin of Stede’s neck, and immediately he feels parched. He drops reluctant hands from Stede’s waist. He’s not used to pulling back like this, but he can’t imagine continuing when he sees Stede’s face: tense, almost panicked, and the more Ed looks the worse it gets.

“What’s going on?” he asks. Concern floods through him. He’s starting to recognise that face now. It’s a face that happens right before one or both of them gets tempted to self-sabotage and blow everything up. “Let’s… talk it through.”

Stede cringes at the sound of his own advice. Shame flushes his cheeks and the back of his neck and he wants to run away and bury himself in the blankets. He avoids Ed’s big, beautiful, prying eyes with everything he has. At least he knows he’s spiraling this time, but knowing is different from stopping himself as he sinks into a quagmire of guilt. Knowing is different to being able to put words to it. But if they’re going to get anywhere, and so help him they’re going to get somewhere with all this, he has to try.

“I … just thought,” he manages, and thinks of how cold the air had felt as he was marched through the forest in his nightclothes. Of the smell of gunpowder. Of the sour taste it had left in his mouth when Ed had told him he was running away to fish. “If you don’t stop now… you might… do something you regret.”

“What are you talking about, regret? Pretty sure I’m the one about to rip those pretty little buttons off your pants.” Ed laughs just a little. He means it cajolingly, suavely, flatteringly, but he hears it land wrong and grimaces. He’s still getting the hang of this sincerity business. Stede shoves him away and he lets himself be shoved, circling around to follow him and pleading silently, don’t blow this up don’t blow this up.

“I’m serious, Ed!” Stede cries. “Don’t make another mistake just because of me.”

“I’m serious too, Stede!” Ed cries back, although maybe doing it in the same tone isn’t the best choice of the moment. “What the fuck do you mean ‘a mistake’?”

Too late it hits him. He was standing on the balcony. He was telling Stede that their timing was off, that he hadn’t been ready, but that’s not what he’d actually said. Not all of it, anyway. He’d said I think last night was a mistake. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Stede retorts, but it lacks its usual edge. He looks so helplessly forlorn Ed desperately wants to kiss him but that’s so obviously the wrong decision that he watches helplessly instead, until Stede can psych himself up to say more. To voice the pain that’s been weighing on him at long last.

“It was meant to be beautiful, Edward,” Stede says, his voice cracking, eyes filling with tears as it all comes flooding out. “I really needed you, and it felt so good to me, I felt so strong and wonderful and free and it was so- it was so different than what it’s been like before. It felt like how everyone promises it’s meant to feel. And then I find out you never wanted to be there and I violated you too and I. I never wanted to hurt you, Ed, I never wanted to hurt you–”

Sobs shake his frame, threatening to overwhelm him. And it breaks Ed’s heart, it breaks his heart, and for a minute words fail him in the face of it. He presses their foreheads together instead, desperately, and finally Stede takes a deep breath. His hammering heart slows. 

“Stede,” Ed says, and he says it like a promise. “I don’t regret you, okay? Not for one second. I wanted to be there, and you didn’t hurt me. You didn’t violate anything.”

“Okay.” It’s easier said than done, to really listen, but he’s trying. Part of him is here with Ed, foreheads together, breathing the same air. But part of him is still in that forest at gunpoint. Part of him is stuck washing up in the bathroom after laying with Mary, knowing they both feel lonely and awful and cold. A defiler of beautiful things.

“It was beautiful,” Ed insists, “and I swear you didn’t make me feel anything but needed and wanted and loved.”

Needed and wanted and loved. Such small words, to fill such a cavern inside of him. He can still remember Stede’s hands, Stede’s lips on him. Hungry. Reverent. Beautiful.

“You weren’t ready.”

“Maybe not. But even I didn’t know I wasn’t, mate. There’s nothing we can do about that. Sometimes timing just sucks.”

“How do you know you’re ready tonight, then?”

“I guess I don’t. But I think I am, and that’s the best I can do. At least until Buttons’ little magic book shows me how to see the future. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah.” Stede nods. “But if it’s all the same to you, I don’t think I am.”

“Okay." Ed keeps his gaze for a long, grounding moment. He lifts his head, to kiss the spot where he’s been resting, and he cups Stede’s face in his hands. “What about this? Is this okay?”

“Mhmm.”

Ed wipes the tears from Stede’s cheeks with his thumbs. He nudges Stede’s chin toward his own.

“And this?”

“Yeah.”

A soft, gentle kiss.

“Okay. Tea and a game of superchess then? Haven’t thrashed you at that in a while.”

There’s a sparkle in Ed’s eye and in spite of himself, Stede smiles.

“Perfect.”

[eldenborne]

LOST FIC PLEASE HELP

It was a multichaptered steddyhands fic where stede finally catches up to the revenge. Lucius is alive and hiding in the walls but the kraken crew won't let izzy go inside the captains cabin cause ed abused izzy a lil too much. I dont remember much but i remember izzy, stede and Edward being locked inside the cabin, to avoid being mutinied by the crew, a very protective izzy and the presence of smut...if you dont know the fic then please reblog it will help a tonne!!!!

Thank youuuu

[pukner]

Baz | part one

a steddyhands twt thread turned oneshot

|| Rated Gen || Stede and Ed take a brief vacation to visit Stede's family, and find a surprise.

part one / part two

They decide to visit Mary. Well, Stede decides to visit Mary.

Or, Stede gets a letter by extremely confusing means (why is fucking Jackie playing messenger) and receives word that in his absence (read: death), his wife's gone and married some bloke named Doug.

Ed doesn't feel anything about it either way, really. Stede's gone and worked himself into a tizzy (heh, like Izzy. Wait no, don't think about Izzy) and he's all guilty for ignoring his kids or whatever.

Ed doesn't get it. In his experience, the best dad is one you don't have to see.

He's a bit antsy about leaving the crew behind, to be honest. Not the most functional lot, this. Not without-- Well. Not without Iz.

Stede doesn't get it. "Honestly," he says, mouth pursed in that unhappy way of his, "Izzy was hardly the only competent member of our crew."

"Besides Oluwande and Jim," Ed says, flatly, "Yeah, he was."

"Lucius can write--" Stede offers.

"So can that molly we ran into last week. So can--"

"...molly?"

"The-- he tried to sleep with you? Asked you for a drink and then I stabbed him?"

"Oh, goodness--he was a courtesan?"

"Mate, don't say--"

Alright, so the conversation gets a bit derailed. He imagines Iz standing between them and snapping at them to Fucking Stay On Track or something, but they wouldn't be having this conversation if he was here, would they? If he hadn't slipped away unnoticed the second Stede returned--

if Ed had just paid attention, if Ed hadn't gone so profoundly off the rails in those last days before Stede showed back up, if he hadn't--

Ed tastes blood when he wakes up some nights. He wonders if Izzy does. He wonders if he's dead. He talks to Stede about it, some nights.

And he understands, is the bizarre thing. Stede looks at his worst moments, the tar leaking out his mouth, the I Maimed My Dearest Friend And Also Tried To Kill Lucius of it all, and says, "Alright, that's fine. You're terrible but so am I. We can be less terrible together."

They end up going to Barbados, in the end. He talks about Iz again, as they walk. It's a nice island. Very breezy. Sunny. It's like he's hemorrhaging all his feelings.

Stede listens, and murmurs, "I don't miss him like you do, dear, but I miss him all the same."

Then, because Stede's fundamentally a bitch, he adds, "Even though he was an irritating little man."

Ed doesn't like that. Not the thing about Iz, he absolutely is irritating and little, but the fact that he's talking in the past tense. Then Ed realizes that he did the same.

They meet Mary and her Doug. They're great. She's kind of a bitch, and Ed thinks immediately that he can never let her meet Jackie, or Anne, or Mary (the other one, Read). He also meets some broad in an eye patch that he immediately clocks as a threat.

The kids aren't home.

"You just let them run around with some stranger?" Stede says, appalled.

Stede gets appalled a lot. It's his whole thing. Ed's sort of wandering around and picking at stuff they have lying around. Paintbrushes, cushions. A doll lying on some fancy sofa.

Place looks nice. Dying was a good parenting move on Stede's part.

"He isn't a stranger," Mary's saying, in that patient tone that all women have when they're thinking of murder, "He's our neighbor--"

"Well," says Doug, coughing into his hand.

"Alright, so he lives in the woods, but he's a perfectly nice--"

"He watches the children when I'm having showings--"

"What on earth are you showing?" asks Stede, sounding unreasonably baffled.

"...my art, Stede."

"Ah. Well, what about Doug?"

"I work," says Doug, brightly.

"Some people do that, Stede," says Mary, pointedly.

"I work!"

"I doubt that," says Mary, which is fair. Ed doesn't think what they do qualifies as work.

They bitch at each other about this guy. Apparently he watches the kids. He's teaching Alma how to swordfight. And teaching Louis how to sew? What the fuck.

"--sword fight!" Stede says, shrilly, "Mary, that's hardly appropriate--"

"You literally ran away to become a pirate," says Mary, flatly.

"...fair," says Stede.

They hear a lot about this guy over tea.

He helped get rid of a nasty pirate situation, apparently. He's good with a sword, despite his limp, the cane he needs. He grows excellent beets? Has a nice flower garden. Knits up a storm. Kind of a wanker, very crabby, but soft on kids. The kids love him, apparently.

"--Alma's developing quite an interest in sailing, thanks to Baz," Mary is saying, and Ed drops his fork.

Oh.

He looks at Stede, panicked, and then when Stede doesn't give him the panic eyes back he realizes Ah He Doesn't Know. Stede isn't Jack, or old Sam. He doesn't know.

He looks at Mary, just then, and spies out a sly little smile on her face. It's a schemer's smile, this one. He's seen it on Jack often enough. Oh, he can never let her meet Annie. He's already afraid of the implications of her knowing Jackie.

Stede decides, before Ed can say his thing, that he's got to meet this Baz bloke.

Ed can't speak, on account of the phantom taste of blood in his mouth. He looks down at his plate, at all the meat he's pushed to a side.

part two

[carrymelikeimcute]

As soon as I work out a way to move Izzy's ghost from the inn to Button House, I am writing that Captain/Izzy fic.

Also, currently working on the sprizzy phone sex line office romance comedy...thing :P

[our-flag-means-fanfics]

everything broken gets put back together again

Author: ellemzee

Rating: M

Finished: July 2022

Tags: Canon AU, Post- S1, Reunion Fic, Stede/Edward, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fix-It

Word Count: 23k

Summary:

The problem with his plan (besides the obvious, which is that he has absolutely no intention of following through) is that he didn't account for the possibility that Stede would show up without anyone having to find him, red-faced and furious and bursting with love, over the side of his boat, looking all windswept and gorgeous, and challenge him to a duel. Because that would be absolutely mental. And that's what happens, because of course, Ed's forgotten who he's dealing with. Ed's tired and Stede's determined. They work it out.

Comments:

This on is definitely a favorite! I love how thoroughly the author explored Ed’s perspective and gave validity (or at least justification) to his emotions and actions. I also love Stede being Stede here; he is blunt and selfish and brash, but also so very sorry. He puts so much effort into winning Ed back (I’m a sucker for a grand gesture). Also, Izzy is well-written in the brief appearances he makes. Overall, an exceptional storyline and a fun read! 

[trashquisitor-shirozora]

I can finally see the finish line for Gravity Well, the Dinluke Positivity Week 2022 fill that took entirely way too long to write and is also way longer than I ever anticipated. What do you fucking mean this goddamn fic is gonna crash through the 100k word barrier with the final update? What the fuck happened???

Anyway, I'm sleeping on this draft and doing some heavy duty editing, and then maybe I'll have a Sunday or Monday post. Who knows. I just need this fic to stop haunting my ass and finish telling its tale because I got an absolute monster of a fic waiting for me to pick back up again.