#also how the fuck does ed get his leathers back
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𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥
eddie munson x shy!oc
contents: anxiety, curse words, friends to lovers. lovesick!eddie, inexperienced!reader, self-consciousness, first kiss, sharing clothes. eddie’s jacket is oversized on reader. can be read as x reader, but a bit oc too? carnival date.
word count: ~1.5k
eddie munson is in love.
she is entirely inexperienced in anything romantic or sexual; no first kiss, never even got close to it. extremely shy and anxious, has a seemingly innocent aura, is a bit out of sorts, ditzy, with a sort of luna lovegood vibe. doesn’t argue with people, always tears up if confronted about anything, doesn’t have beef with anyone and is a lot more rational than emotional even though she tears up so easily. also doesn’t hold grudges or care what people think of her…
the thing is, she has been introverted her whole life, a very anxious person, and so doesn’t understand that eddie munson likes her because she needs to be told how people feel about her very explicitly otherwise her mind will convince her they hate her. anxiety is like that. and she’s the kind of person that has a hard time realizing that people can perceive their existence and have feelings for them, no matter what type of feelings, so even though eddie is not at all shy about flirting with her and giving her all of the attention in the world in his over-the-top, overdramatic way, he also knows that if anything other than the friendship he’s thankfully managed to build with her is going to happen, romantic-wise, that she has to be the one to initiate it— but she’s oblivious!
on the other hand though, she doesn’t even bother hiding her infatuation with eddie — it’s a lot more than infatuation by now. she’s always looking at him with stars in her eyes and laughs at his jokes and smiles that big, square, goofy smile whenever they lock eyes and constantly praises him because he deserves to feel as special as he is, right? and she goes into detailed talks about lord of the rings with him, likes many of the same bands he does or simply lets him play his favorites for her, and she truly loves to watch hellfire play dungeons & dragons.
her eds even made her a special edition pink hellfire shirt. ‘cause he’s a simp.
one day, as she’s out with chrissy and heather outside a diner, talking and laughing and catching up, eddie is close by somewhere with friends. his van is parked nearby.
it starts getting chilly, and eddie’s girl starts shivering, so she quickly excused herself away from the girls, “gimme a second!” and reaches through the open window of eddie’s van, making a mental note to grill him about it later — “‘cause it isn’t safe, eds!” — to grab his leather jacket thinking of how he has told her over and over that she can borrow it, that “what’s mine is yours, sweets. i don’t mind sharing if it’s with you”, so she figures it’s okay, right? and goes back to the girls who are fucking smirking like they see something she doesn’t.
it’s about fifteen minutes later, and eddie is walking towards the trio, simply because he misses his girl and wants a hug, when he sees it.
she’s wearing his jacket. his jacket.
in typical eddie fashion, he makes a scene— gasping dramatically, he clutches his chest over his heart and falls to his knees, because fuck what anyone around thinks. his precious girl is wearing his fucking jacket! and she looks like a fucking angel.
“eds, what are you doin’?”
“do you know how heavenly you look in my jacket? i just had to get on my knees to worship you.”
the boy shuffles closer to his sweet girl on his knees still while he talks and she’s flustered, okay? she’s shy and her face is on fire and she’s covering her cheeks and giggling. and because it’s eddie, her eddie, she’s not running away to have a panic attack. ‘cause it’s eddie and he’s being sweet, so she can’t focus on anyone else long enough to feel crippling anxiety or embarrassment. doesn’t even care that chrissy is cooing and heather is smirking.
“that jacket is yours now, you own it. you pretty much own me by now.” eddie says, on his knees, in front of her
“it’s okay that i took it right?” she makes sure even after his display of joy, ‘cause anxiety isn’t rational “you said i—”
her eddie knows her, though. he stands up, gets real fucking close to her, so close they’re almost touching, with this look of absolute adoration and “i’d give ya everything i have if i could, pretty.”
fast forward a few days later. chrissy kept yapping on and on to the oblivious girl about how “in love” eddie is, but it’s as though her brain won’t let her even entertain the idea.
that’s until she’s having a semi-regular quote unquote friend-date with eddie, something they’ve done quite a few times before, and this time they go to the fair. they’re doing everything couples might do, eddie is very aware of this, and he’s over the moon to just be enjoying quality time with his pretty girl until she spots a photobooth, “oh, eds! we have to!” and eddie’s desperately counting coins to pay. the pictures go a little something like this:
after coming up blank with pose ideas, they just look at each other and laugh, but at the sound of his free and bright laugh, she just stares at her boy like he’s a dream come true— first pic is taken, looking at eddie like he hung the moon while he’s mid-laugh.
eddie notices her staring and goes from loud laughs to breathless ones, a smile on his lips, and whispers a soft “what?”— second picture is taken as the girl quickly presses her lips to his, her very first kiss, and it’s caught on camera.
the third picture depicts eddie’s sweet girl nervously rambling “i was going to ask for permission first, i promise!” while eddie has a glassy, dreamy look on his face, slack jawed, looking at her lips.
and at the fourth snap? eddie presses forward to shut her up with another impossibly soft and tender kiss, both of their eyes are closed and his hand is holding her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek.
after they part from the second kiss, eddie acknowledges that it was her first kiss, a shy “was that okay?” to which his sweetheart just smiles really big and nods excitedly over and over with a breathless giggle. that was the perfect first and second kiss and she couldn’t ask for more.
they hold hands the rest of the night.
#fairy writes#eddie munson (harmo’s version)#flirty!eddie munson#adhd!eddie munson#eddie munson#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x shy!reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#friends to lovers#mutual pining#dates with eddie munson#lovesick!eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fic#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson thoughts#eddie munson headcanons#stranger things imagine#eddie x you#eddie x reader
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I was reading the interview with Jes Tom about the trans allegory of Ed dropping his leathers overboard and my brain latched onto it and started gnawing :D
It got me thinking that this definitely vibes with feelings I had back in 1x10 with Izzy keeping this emotionally vulnerable version of Blackbeard safely hidden from public view ("you will not speak of what you see on pain of death"), Lucius encouraging Ed to express himself and the whole "this… whatever it is that you have become" scene.
Ed says it there himself "I am still Blackbeard" and Izzy flat-out tells him he's not unless he presents himself a specific way, dresses and acts a specific way ('this is Blackbeard'.) Simply being "Edward" and expressing himself and his emotions means that Ed faces hostility, derision, implicit threat and "I should have let the English kill you".
Ed pulls on his leathers again again because he's been threatened by someone close to him, but this time it's different - the intent is different. No more "I am still Blackbeard" because apparently his version of Blackbeard isn't enough (and this is already on the back of Stede saying "you can't be Blackbeard without your black beard"). Now it's "the kraken" or "the fucking devil".
More importantly, when he puts the clothes back on, he does it based on one of the propaganda pictures distributed by the English. This isn't his choice of presentation anymore. I find it fascinating that his look at the beginning of S2 is some kind of hybrid of the Mad Devile Pyrate Blackbeard and the image that Izzy shoved in his face in 1x10. (Also love the detail that Izzy's image has elements that appear in Black Pete's fantasy of Blackbeard, to confirm that this image isn't accurate either)
It's a defensive pushback, escalating to the 'viking vampire clown' aesthetic, because if he's being threatened by someone he trusted and he's had past experience of people being nice to him then turning on him ('it's a fickle crowd'), he'll have to go to another extreme to make sure no one will get close enough to hurt him or threaten him again.
The clothing is only a surface element. It's part of an armour to protect himself with his presentation. Stede's line in 1x03 explains it in a nutshell - "It's a power move - make people feel underdressed and suddenly, you're the one in charge". People don't know him/aren't afraid of him when they see him without it (the party ship - "do you know who I am?") and this carries over into S2 as well (the people at the fish shack).
It only hit me now that every scene where he expresses his emotions when he's in his leathers includes some kind of hiding - his hair loose around his face, hiding under a robe in Stede's bath tub, standing at the back of the ship where no one can see his face, closing himself away to cry in an empty room, hiding under a blanket at Mary and Anne's. He's been forced to hide his vulnerabilities when he's in his armour for decades.
Even when he's talking to Stede (and others), he doesn't express his real intentions. It's all skirting around what he actual wants and feels. The "run me through", the "next adventure" - Ed doesn't feel he can express what he wants directly, because he always has to keep his guard up.
The beginning of 2x07 is Ed wanting to shed the need for that surface armour, that visible shield for Edward. He drops them overboard and immediately goes and talks to Stede about his emotions and his feelings for the first time.
The fact that Izzy saw the leather-drop and this time says "maybe you should listen to it" instead of tearing him down shows how far they've come. Ed feels safe with Stede and wants to just be himself, but when faced with the idea of staying in the world where that armour - that presentation and the expectations that come with it - is necessary again, he panics and runs.
Then their entire world is burning and as far as he knows, Stede is injured or dead.
Once again, the leathers come back, but this time, Ed is the one who chooses to put them on. He's taking this piece of himself that he has hated for years and turns it back into the armour that has protected him for this long to get back to Stede. Him having that choice, making that choice, is key.
I think the biggest thing is him realising he can be Blackbeard and Ed and whoever he wants to be without cutting off pieces of himself. So much of the Blackbeard presentation has been code-switching and hiding his real self. This time, he doesn't hide. He finds a letter and has a cry over it and the instant he's back at Stede's side, he drops his weapon and, for the first time, kisses Stede out in the open in front of people and tells him he loves him.
Ed is no longer afraid to be seen and expressing himself. He's letting himself - all aspects of himself - be seen. The clothes aren't him. They just happen to be there while he is himself.
My expectation is that S3 will see him finally being able to leave that armour behind for good and I can't wait for it.
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So, I'm loving the new roughed up, grubby pirate Stede as much as the next insane person. But what if. When Stede and Ed reconcile (to a middle season level, don't get too excited guys, something is still going to get in the way of their happy ending until season 3). What if they reconcile and Stede's back on the Revenge and they go into the auxiliary wardrobe where Ed shows him the fine clothes that survived and Stede puts them on, full season one Stede splendor. He looks amazing, of course he does (Ed's heart eyes are huge). Stede loves these clothes, I don't want him to lose that, so he enjoys wearing them again. But then there's a fight, and Stede can fight now, he's battled the British on the beach and whoever else this season to get back to Ed. He did a fucking punch, man. But the clothes get in the way. So. He rips a sleeve off or something (like whatever pissed off Ed that time and meant his leather jacket ended up down an arm). After the fight, Stede looks in the mirror and in the wardrobe and works out how he can be himself, because he loves the clothes, but they were also a costume and a mask. So he alters a jacket, mixes things up, makes it work for him, a new look, the gentleman PIRATE, not just the gentleman. He doesn't need to pretend or hide behind anything, he's living the life he wants to live and he knows what he looks like in that. At the same time, Ed no longer wears his costume either. 'Regular guy' wasn't for him, but full leathers in the sweltering heat probably wasn't really for him either. He finds a softer, still badass middle ground too. Anyway, I have zero point and no deep summarizing point. I just want season 2, and I want my silly middle aged boys to be happy and beautiful. Thanks.
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Okay so I know we're in this big anti-sex cultural moment.
And I know my own personal standards on this issue are way out there. I am a sex first relationship later person. It's just how I roll. So I'm biased.
But I have to say, everyone talks like it's definitely for sure that it was a bad idea for Ed and Stede to have sex when they did.
And honestly, like, I'm not even arguing with that. It was a very understandable time for them to have sex. There should have been some more talking either before or AFTER about how they were both feeling. But it wasn't ideal perhaps.
Still I want to be clear: I don't think them having sex is the fucking problem here.
Ed is overwhelmed and unsure of where he fits right now. He's been through a lot of trauma recently (and caused a lot of course.) So it's understandable why he'd feel unprepared to add sex with Stede on top of it all.
However, they both do very much want to have sex with each other. And when two people are in love and really attracted to each other and really want to have sex, even if they have other reasons why they are holding back from it...well, eventually they're going to have sex. Sooner or later, but probably sooner.
Time in this show is very difficult to gauge, especially this season. So some time has passed between the moonlight scene and the beginning of ep 6. Ed had his leathers back, he's not wearing the bell, things have changed and progressed. It's not the next day. Probably.
We don't get to know how much time it's been or what has been said in between. Ed seems basically in the same place mentally. If not a worse one. Progress is not being made.
It's easy to criticize Stede for initiating a rather aggressive pounce on Ed in the wake of his trauma. But he's clearly not thinking. That's his issue, separate from the question of whether Ed is ready, so I'm not going to get into it. But he does pause, and he looks to Ed for permission, which Ed gives before enthusiastically and passionately joining in.
They both just went through a scary time. They both are seeking comfort in each other. It means sooner comes rather than later in the inevitable 'they're GOING to fuck' race. I know that sentence is a trashfire but let's move on.
Ed is happy in the morning. He's a little nervous, with the breakfast, but he feels good about dumping his leathers. He's come to a decision. Even after he starts to get nervous after Stede talks about their career, he's mostly fine when they go eat. Relaxed, happy about what happened.
And then all the fame stuff starts and he's fine at first. He talks to Jackie and is fine about it until Jackie is like yeah but you have a problem with your man. He talks to Izzy.
Now he's REALLY done a 180. He doesn't see his desired life and Stede's desired life matching up. Stede apparently doesn't understand Ed and where he's at if he thinks they're going to be pirates together now.
This is the problem. This is what upsets Ed. he spirals for hours. He's running scenarios and coming to negative conclusions. He's not valuable or loveable if he's not Blackbeard. Stede doesn't want him if he doesn't fit into that life. He needs to move on. He is panicked and freaking out.
Then he talks to Stede, after already making the decision to leave and go fishing. Like, let's be clear, he doesn't decide that during their fight. He's decided and signed on. He's just saying goodbye.
It's only then that he brings up the sex. He does throw blame at Stede for it a bit, which I think is mostly fair. But he also isn't accounting for Stede's state of mind at the time. They were both off tilt. But he digs into that, and to me, I think he's using the sex as an excuse.
He didn't have a problem with the sex itself. He was happy in the morning and after. Smiling, smug, cute, loved up, having heart to hearts about mermaids and letters.
It was all the life/identity stuff that crashed in that shifted him. But he doesn't know how to talk about that. He doesn't know how to explain it or be vulnerable about his worst fears and self-worth issues.
So he goes on offense and says hey, actually, this is your fault. He picks the issue he has words for, the only one they've actually talked at all about.
Stede is NOT wrong when he identifies Ed as panicking and wanting to run. Stede is recognizing the behavior from himself.
Just like it's not about Ed wanting to fish, it's not about them going too fast. It's about them not communicating about their deepest needs and desires and fears.
They can have sex or not have sex, if they're not communicating it won't work. They could continue fucking like rabbits and have long talks in between sessions and get really really far. Or do what they've been doing which is NOT having sex and also not communicating which can go on forever and they won't get closer to happy.
I feel like fandom has latched on to this one thing as The Problem, because it's all Ed SAID was a problem. But we have lots of evidence otherwise.
I mean, even the conversation...Ed says it's too fast, Stede is like...okay well we can do whatever. He doesn't get defensive even though he's hurt. But that's not good enough, because that's not actually the problem. But at that point Ed really starts running away.
And they start getting more heated, both being sloppy at expressing themselves. (Stede is unfortunately pretty freaking drunk.)
I think they are both very avoidant personalities when it comes to this kind of thing, this kind of deeply personal conflict. Their anxieties keep them from being honest. And so the sex combined with Stede's killing of a man, and newfound fame, that all became a crisis that forced them to confront these issues. I think ultimately probably for the best, instead of not addressing them.
#ofmd#ofmd s2#ofmd s2 spoilers#ofmd meta#my meta#I still have barely slept since the episodes dropped#I don't even know if this makes any sense#will I put it in drafts? nah#here have brain vomit
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a mess of holy things 11
also on ao3 // prev // next
cw: slight dumbification; brief gagging/choking; they’re both Kinda Weird
“No, I’m telling you it’s not something I can tell you about in public.”
“I’m aware,” Robin retorts, keys jingling as she leads Steve down the hallway. “I just think you could lower your voice if you tried really hard.”
“It’s not my volume I’m worried about,” Steve says, scoffing. “I just know you’re going to scream or something.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m so calm. All the time.”
“Lies.”
She makes a noise that means she’s sticking her tongue out at him as she unlocks her door, and he follows her inside, looking around. There are two beds on the opposite end of the room, facing opposite directions, and Steve doesn’t even have to ask to know which side of the room is Robin’s.
Her bed is unmade, a colourful quilt folded back to reveal white and yellow striped sheets. Her pillowcases are mismatched, one dark blue and the other spotted with bumblebees. There are posters on the wall above her bed, but Steve doesn’t recognize any of the people on them. His eyes skim the words, the letters all bold, loud. Sonic Youth, Green Day, Sex Pistols.
Robin kicks off her shoes and nudges them toward her desk, where they join her other shoes, scuffed and dirty Converse All-Stars and worn leather boots with mismatched laces, one shoe yellow and the other purple. Steve copies her as they drop their backs, looking at her desk. It’s a little cluttered, pens scattered across it, an origami bird on a small stack of books. There are post-its on the wall in front of her desk, colorful and vibrant. Her handwriting is messy.
Robin throws herself onto her bed as Steve takes off his jacket, looking at the other side of the room. There are a few posters but nowhere near as many as Robin has. One is of a handsome man, smiling softly, and when Steve looks closer, he finds text on the corner of it that reads Tom Cruise. Another is of a few teenagers all posing together with The Breakfast Club at the bottom.
The bed is made neatly, the blanket soft pink and tucked in. The pillows have matching pillowcases, also pink with lacy frills, and there’s a teddy bear resting against them.
“Steve,” Robin says sharply from her bed. “Stop looking around like you’re in a museum and tell me what’s up.”
Steve exhales heavily and goes to her bed, tossing his jacket to land on her desk chair as he falls onto his back in front of her.
“I don’t know how to say it.”
“Words would be preferable.”
He scoffs and sits up, moving to sit cross-legged, tugging at the quilt so it’s not folded against his leg.
“Okay, I…”
His face is already hot, and Robin is already grinning, and he hates this.
“Did you fuck?” she says excitedly, and he groans loudly.
“Okay, we— No, we didn’t have sex, we…” He pauses, face hot, cheeks sore from smiling so widely. Robin’s eyes are wide and shining as she grins at him, shifting so she’s kneeling across from him, bouncing up and down. “We did… something. It wasn’t sex. It was…”
“Tell me,” she says giddily. “Tell me, tell me, tell me.”
“Okay, I…” He covers his face, sighing heavily. “I was— I was curious. So I asked if he… does it.”
“Masturbates,” Robin says pointedly, and he rolls his eyes, letting his head fall back.
“Yes. That.”
“Okay,” she says, eyebrows raised.
“And he said he does. So I…” He winces, looking away, squishing his cheeks between his palms. She reaches out and pokes him. “I asked if I could see.”
She stares at him, jaw dropped, grinning widely.
“So he jerked off in front of you?”
“…Yeah?”
She claps a hand over her mouth, staring and staring and staring, and he waits, still wincing.
“Oh my God,” Robin says brightly when she drops her hand. “You’re kinky.”
“…I don’t know what that means.”
She lets out a loud squeal, covering her face before she falls onto her back, cackling. She kicks her legs out, and Steve dodges them, laughing.
“God, I am so glad I get to be your sex ed teacher,” she says when she finally calms down, sitting up.
“I’ve had sex ed,” he says. “I just… I’m just inexperienced.”
“Oh, I know,” she says. “Look. Kinks are things that people especially like during sexy times. If you can think of anything, someone’s got a kink for it.”
Steve pauses.
“Okay.”
“So your man— Wait, what’s his name again?”
“Eddie,” Steve says bashfully, suppressing a smile.
“Eddie…” Robin coos. “So Eddie jerkin’ it while you watch is called voyeurism, and it's a whole thing.”
Steve blinks. Processes.
“Are… Are kinks only sexual?” he asks hesitantly.
“Generally,” Robin says, tilting her head. “They can be non-sexual, I guess. Why?”
Steve looks at her, pausing.
“We, uhm…”
Her eyes somehow widen even more, and she leans forward, bouncing up and down again.
“Tell me.”
“He spits in my mouth.”
She gawks, and his face flushes with heat again. There’s a long stretch of silence as Robin’s mouth stretches into a slow smile.
“You’re kinky,” she says again.
“Oh my God—”
He shoves at her, but she catches his arm, tugging him so he falls against her, and their limbs tangle as they laugh. Her mouth is right by his ear, and it’s so loud it hurts, but he’s never laughed like this with anyone before. He laughs so hard his stomach hurts and his cheeks are sore, and the two of them roll over so Robin is on top of him. She tries to sit up by pushing on his face, and he squeezes his eyes shut so her fingers don’t poke them.
It takes a long while for them to finally calm down and separate, untangling their legs and pushing each other away as they catch their breath. But every time their eyes meet, they burst into giggles again. They’re both red-faced, and Steve’s stomach hurts, but he feels light, like he doesn’t have to worry about anything at all.
And they keep giggling as they talk, sitting against the wall, hugging Robin’s pillows to themselves. Robin talks him through a lot, stumbling through words and definitions and hypothetical scenarios, which makes Steve kind of want to die, but she’s so casual about it all that he can’t really even be embarrassed.
“Okay, look,” she says finally, her knees drawn to her chest, looking at him intently. “The point is, it doesn’t matter if you know what you’re doing or not, right? As long as everything is cool with both of you, it’s all fine. There’s nothing wrong with anything you like.”
Steve nods, looking down.
“Steve,” Robin says, leaning toward him. Their shoulders touch. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“I know,” Steve says softly, eyes still downcast.
“Do you?”
Steve is quiet, pausing. His fingers twist in his lap, and he squeezes, forcing his knuckles to crack.
“I do,” he says quietly. “I just… It’s hard sometimes.”
Robin sighs softly, and she lets her head fall to rest on his shoulder. No one’s ever laid on Steve’s shoulder before.
He lays his head on Robin’s, closing his eyes.
He can smell her shampoo. It’s sweet and citrusy, and it somehow smells more like home than the hallway of his parents’ house.
“Eddie knows about it,” Steve says after a few quiet moments. “That I… I don’t know. Struggle with it. He actually noticed first.”
“How?” Robin asks, almost whispering, her head shifting so she can sit closer.
“He, uhm…” He hesitates. “We were kissing, and I just… I don’t know. Panicked.”
“What happened?”
Somehow he knows her eyes are closed too.
“He kind of noticed I was freaking out first, and he… asked if I was okay. So we stopped, and I… I couldn’t really breathe, and I just felt so… Bad.” He pauses, and Robin is quiet, waiting patiently. “He helped me calm down and then he… said to take my time.”
“He sounds really great,” Robin says softly after a moment.
“God, he is.”
“You love him?”
Steve scoffs. His throat is suddenly tight.
“Fuck, maybe.”
Robin coos, poking him in the side, and he giggles, slumping over and trying to dodge her as she pokes at him again, and again, and again, until he’s laughing so hard his eyes are squeezed shut and he’s falling onto his side. Robin climbs on top of him, digging her fingers into his ribs. He tries to push her off, but her legs are tight around him, pinning him in place.
He snatches one of her pillows and swings it at her, but she grabs it and shoves it in his face, muffling his laughter.
He finally manages to sit up when she cackles, and he pushes her onto her back. Steve smacks her hands away, his face hot as they jostle on the mattress, and neither of them hear the door open until there’s a gasp before it slams shut.
Robin tilts her head back to look at the door upside down, and she laughs loudly.
“We’re not fucking, Nance!” she calls loudly, and Steve bursts into laughter again, rolling off of her and leaning against the wall again as the door opens again.
“Well I didn’t look long enough to know,” a girl says as she comes inside, making a face at Robin, who sits up and tosses her hair out of her face. The girl looks like Robin’s polar opposite: her hair is styled perfectly, curls into neat spirals, bangs spread across her forehead, and she’s wearing a plaid skirt that reaches her knees with a loose, fluffy-looking cardigan. She’s carrying some books in her arms.
“Steve, Nancy, Nancy, Steve,” Robin says. “Roommate. Best friend.”
“I’m your best friend?” Steve says, looking at her as Nancy toes her shoes off with a scoff. She sets her books on her desk, watching them.
“Unfortunately, yeah.”
“That’s sad.”
They’re distracted by someone else coming through the door after Nancy, and Robin lights up.
“Jonny boy!”
“Robin,” he says dryly, his voice smooth and calm. He doesn’t look like someone that would be hanging out with Nancy, his hair falling in his face, his shirt unbuttoned and dishevelled, but he kicks his shoes off without sorting them neatly like Steve did, and then he goes to Nancy’s bed and flops onto his back, sighing heavily. Nancy rolls her eyes.
“Steve, that’s Jonathan,” Robin says, pointing at him like Steve can’t find him.
“Hi, Jonathan.”
“Hi, Steve.”
Robin rolls onto her stomach, looking across the room as Nancy takes off her cardigan and drapes it over the back of her desk chair. Steve clicks his tongue and smacks her leg when she kicks him.
“Robin,” a voice sings from the doorway, and Robin gasps as another boy comes in, his long hair billowing behind him. He looks nothing like Nancy or Jonathan; he’s wearing vibrant, tie-dyed pants and a teal and blue striped hoodie, and his pants are rolled up to reveal colorful socks that are spotted with smiley faces.
“Argyle,” Robin sings back, tilting her head back to look at him upside down, and Steve cracks a smile, watching, amused. She attempts to wave at Argyle, but she ends up waving at Steve, disoriented from being upside down.
Argyle tosses something to her with a bright, cartoonish whistle, and it lands on her stomach as she gasps, sitting up to look at it and look at it. It’s a package of gummy bears, and Robin lets out an excited noise like she’s a little kid.
“Ugh, Argyle, you’re the love of my life.”
Argyle lets out a wry laugh and he plops himself onto the ground, grinning up at Robin.
“I love you, too, broski.” His eyes look at Steve, brightening even more somehow, even though his eyes still seem to be at half-mast. “Are you Steve?”
“I am,” Steve says lightly.
“You’re so cool, man.”
“…Thanks?”
“I talk about you a lot,” Robin says, already ripping open the gummy bear bag.
“Is that a good thing?”
“Only heard good things so far, my guy,” Argyle says, his voice slow and sage.
“Are you guys already high?” Robin asks, glancing up at Jonathan, tugging the head of a red gummy bear off with her teeth. She holds the bag out to Steve, who takes a few after looking. Jonathan just giggles at the ceiling. “Oh, that’s a yes.”
“I drove,” Nancy says dryly, rummaging through a drawer. “Don’t worry— Jon, where did you put the edibles?”
“I don’t remember.”
Nancy huffs and rolls her eyes.
“You need to stop keeping your shit in my room.”
“They search the guys’ dorms more often than they search the girls’.”
“Not my problem.”
“It would be, because then you wouldn’t have weed.”
“…’S true.”
Steve watches them all curiously, how easily they exchange their words, leaning against the wall, drawing his knees to his chest, nibbling one of the gummy bears in his hand. Jonathan keeps giggling at the ceiling, splayed out like a starfish over Nancy’s bed, his worn and ragged flannel contrasting the soft shades of pink of her bedspread. Nancy sits on her desk chair as they talk, her skirt primly draping over her legs before she gradually leans back, relaxing, swinging her feet in the air. Argyle leans against the side of Nancy’s bed, and he gets distracted by Jonathan’s hand dangling over the side of the bed. He tangles his own fingers with Jonathan’s, smiling softly, playing with his hand quietly.
Nancy is a journalism major, Steve learns after a while.
She complains about one of her teachers, who keeps contradicting his own instructions, telling them to do one thing and then demonstrating by doing the opposite. She groans in frustration, looking up at the ceiling, letting her head fall back, and then she gets up and goes over to her bed. Steve watches curiously as she flops on top of Jonathan, who catches her with a startled Oof! before he wraps his arm around her, keeping his other hand down to hold Argyle’s.
“What do you study, Jonathan?” Steve asks, watching the way he runs his hand over Nancy’s curls and then down her back absently. Her face is hidden in his shoulder.
“Film and photography,” Jonathan says, his eyes visible over Nancy’s hair.
“Like movies and stuff?”
“Mmhmm.”
“God, that sounds so much more interesting than business.”
“You study business?” Argyle says like he’s aghast.
“Yeah?”
“Nah, man,” he says disappointedly, shaking his head in a way that makes it look like he’s dancing, swaying his hair back and forth. “You’re an artist, dude.”
“Am I?” Steve says, tossing a gummy bear in his mouth as Robin snorts.
“Oh, yeah,” Argyle says seriously, nodding. “I can feel it. There’s art in your heart.”
Steve hums thoughtfully.
“That’s nice,” he says lightly. Argyle nods in agreement. Robin snickers into Steve’s shoulder.
─────────────────
Eddie’s fingers drag through Steve’s hair slowly, catching on tangles and undoing them.
His other hand is on Steve’s throat, holding him loosely, lazily, his thumb stroking over Steve’s Adam’s apple, and he smiles when Steve hums softly.
Steve’s legs are across his lap, his hands tucked between the two of them. His fingers are curled into the fabric of Eddie’s t-shirt, pulling him back every time they part for breath. He feels like he’s floating, like the inside of his head is full of cotton, shivering from the slick sounds of their mouths.
“Alright?” Eddie whispers softly when they part with simultaneous gasps. Steve nods, tugging at his shirt, and he’s probably stretching the collar out, but Eddie doesn’t complain.
“Yes,” Steve breathes. “Feels good.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhmm.”
Eddie’s thumb strokes his throat again, and his nose nudges against Steve’s.
“Like making you feel good,” he murmurs. “My sweet boy.”
Steve nods even though Eddie didn’t ask him a question, and Eddie’s hand tightens on his throat. Steve keens, his head falling back a little bit, his lips parting to let out a weak noise.
“So beautiful,” Eddie breathes, and Steve’s eyes flutter open. His vision is blurry as he finds Eddie in front of him, and his lips curve into a smile. Eddie grins, jostling him back and forth gently by his neck. Steve’s smile grows.
Eddie’s lips are reddened and shining. His hair is a little tousled, and his cheeks are pink, and Steve’s stomach flutters.
“What are you thinking?” Eddie asks, touching their foreheads together, playing with Steve’s hair. Steve shrugs a little bit, closing his eyes, and he sighs, breathing Eddie in. He had a cigarette on the way home from work. Steve can smell it, but he doesn’t hate it the way he used to.
He sighs again, his hands shifting on Eddie’s shirt. When he tugs the collar down a little bit, he can see the edges of the tattoos on his chest.
His lips part to speak, but he stops himself.
“What is it?” Eddie whispers, because he doesn't miss anything.
“I…” He hesitates, cheeks flushing with heat, and he fidgets with Eddie’s shirt, tugging it down until he can see the head of the crow. “I touched myself. Thinking about you.”
He hesitates again before he meets Eddie’s eyes, head still ducked, bashful, and Eddie is smiling, head tilted like he’s fond.
“Did you like it?” he asks softly.
Steve nods.
He runs his fingertip over the top of the crow’s head, traces the feathers, and he bites his lip.
“It felt good,” he says quietly.
Eddie hums, running his fingers through Steve’s hair.
“Did you come?”
Steve shakes his head, meeting his eyes again. Eddie holds the back of his head and leans in to kiss him gently. Steve sighs as Eddie lingers there, kissing him slowly, nudging their noses together.
“Why?” Eddie whispers, and Steve shrugs again, running his finger over the crow again, touching Eddie’s chest. He’s so soft.
“Started freaking out,” he says softly. “Panicking.”
Eddie hums quietly, kissing him again, and Steve moves closer, letting his lips part for Eddie’s tongue, pulling at his shirt. Eddie tilts his head, fingers pressing into the side of Steve’s neck, squeezing gently, like he’s trying to reassure him that he’s there.
“Do you want to?” he whispers against Steve’s mouth. Steve exhales.
And nods.
Eddie kisses him harder, deeper, holding the back of his head, pushing his fingers into his hair, and Steve lets out a weak whine.
“I don’t know how,” Steve says when they part, gasping for breath. His lips brush Eddie’s.
“Got an idea,” Eddie whispers. Steve’s stomach flutters. “You know your colors?”
“Yes,” Steve breathes.
“Come sit on my lap, baby.” Eddie pulls away, leaning against the back of the sofa, and Steve is helpless to follow, stumbling over himself as he untangles his limbs from Eddie’s so he can find his place on his lap, knees on either side of his hips. Eddie’s hands find his waist, squeezing. “Okay?”
“Mhmm,” Steve hums softly. “Like sitting here.”
“I know,” Eddie says, smiling. “Me too.”
Steve lowers his head and kisses him, sighing, relaxing against his chest, tugging at the collar of his shirt again before he pulls away.
“Eddie?”
“Yeah, baby,” Eddie says softly, almost purring. Steve could swoon.
“Can you… Can you take your shirt off?”
Eddie smiles, his eyes dark and shining.
“Yeah, ‘course.”
He has to lean toward Steve to get his shirt off, tugging it out from where it’s caught between his back and the sofa, and Steve waits, heart pounding in his chest as Eddie’s skin is revealed.
He’s paler than Steve is, and in the dim light of the lamp and the shifting lights of the city outside, he looks like he’s glowing. His skin is marked with dark ink, and Steve gazes, in awe, tracing it with light, tentative fingertips. Eddie waits patiently, looking up at him.
There’s a dragon across his stomach, its wings stretching over to his waist, its tail dipping into the hair that’s sneaking up from under the waistband of his sweatpants. Its scales look delicate somehow, despite the bold, black lines it’s drawn in.
“His name is Dorian,” Eddie says, watching Steve stare, and a laugh bursts out of Steve. He looks up at Eddie, whose eyes are sparkling at him.
“Really?”
“Mmhmm. Isn’t he pretty?”
“Yeah,” Steve says, pressing his hand over Dorian, spreading his fingers to take up as much space as possible, watching Eddie’s eyelashes flutter. “Pretty.”
He kisses Eddie, sucking on his lower lip, and Eddie hums affirmatively, a hand pressing into the small of his back. Steve’s breath catches in his throat as he slides his hands up Eddie’s chest to his shoulders, but his skin is smooth and soft and it feels so good that Steve’s hands can’t stay in place for long, sliding across his chest again.
“Tell me about it,” Eddie whispers between kisses. Steve’s breath catches again. “What’d you think about?”
“You,” Steve says breathlessly, hands finally coming to rest on the sides of Eddie’s neck. He can feel his heartbeat under his skin. It’s fast. “How you— How you touched yourself. How you touch me. How you talk to me.”
“How do I talk to you?” Eddie asks, like he doesn’t know, like he’s not doing it right now.
“Like I’m stupid,” Steve whispers.
“You know I don’t think you’re stupid,” Eddie says lightly, running his hands over his waist.
“You make me feel stupid,” Steve says weakly, looking at him. “Can’t even think— Fuck.”
Eddie smiles at him, and Steve feels like he’s overheating, his stomach fluttering. He closes his eyes, dropping his head, letting out a weak sound.
“Tell me what else, honey,” Eddie says softly, squeezing his waist, leaning in and tilting his head to kiss the side of his neck. Steve lets his head fall to the side, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck, shifting on his lap. “Come on, baby.”
Steve whines.
“I…”
“You…” Eddie teases against his neck, tongue brushing over his skin. “Hm?”
“Wanna be good for you,” Steve says weakly, lightheaded, his throat tight suddenly, holding the back of Eddie’s head, his other arm wrapped around him tightly. “Wanna be your good boy.”
Eddie groans quietly into Steve’s neck.
“You are,” he whispers, his voice right by Steve’s ear, his breath against his skin, cooling his own spit. “My good boy, my baby.”
Steve moans softly, shivering.
“Oh, shit.”
Eddie pulls back and looks down, gazing at where Steve’s dick is now tenting his sweatpants, and he smiles brightly, looking back up at him.
“Good boy,” he whispers, like Steve is in control of this, like he did it on purpose. He holds Steve’s cheek and guides him into a kiss. Steve kisses him desperately, messily, pushing a hand into Eddie’s curls, holding him tightly. “Go ‘head, baby,” Eddie breathes into his mouth.
“I don’t— I don’t know what I’m doing,” Steve confesses, even though he knows it’s obvious. It makes Eddie smile.
“Just do what feels good,” he whispers. He holding Steve’s hips and tugs, gently forcing him to press down against Eddie, and Eddie is hard too, and he’s pressing right against Steve, and—
“Oh, god—”
“Alright?” Eddie asks, and when Steve doesn’t respond, he squeezes his hips. “What’s your color, Stevie?”
“Green,” Steve gasps, shifting on Eddie’s lap again, rubbing against him, and he hugs Eddie’s neck. “Fuck, Eddie.”
“That’s it,” Eddie praises softly. “Feel good?”
“Mmhmm,” Steve hums, his voice too high, nodding. He’s desperate, hands shaking as they slide over Eddie’s chest, running over the soft hair on his skin. “Feels so good, Eddie.”
“Go a little harder,” Eddie instructs gently, pulling at Steve’s hips, his voice sweet and kind, and Steve is helpless. He follows directions blindly, his vision blurring, and he closes his eyes, rolling his hips harder, more confidently, because it feels good. Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. “There you go, good boy.”
Steve lets out a soft moan, rocking against him, humming when Eddie’s hand slides to the small of his back.
“Eddie,” he whines, and he doesn’t even recognize his own voice. Eddie nods, rubbing his back.
“You’re okay,” he says softly.
“‘M okay,” he says weakly, mumbling, breathless.
“‘S right, baby boy, I got you,” Eddie whispers. Steve whines again, shifting against him, eyes fluttering, his mouth falling open, and he’s going to start drooling again, he just knows it. But he’s barely in his own head right now, and he can’t think, and Eddie is making him fucking stupid. His hands pressing against his back, his tattoos, his skin, his hair, his voice, his dick—
“Eddie,” he chokes, flushing with heat, rolling his hips hard and staying down, pressing against Eddie, feeling how hard he is, feeling how much he wants Steve, and he lets out a noise he’s never made before. It rips its way out of his throat, and he’s embarrassed in spite of the grin that spreads across Eddie’s face.
“Fuck,” Eddie breathes before he lets out a quiet moan. “You’re okay, you’re doing so well, baby, I’m so proud of you.”
Steve’s eyes sting, and his lip quivers. Eddie nods, lifting a hand to touch his face, caressing his cheek, cradling him, and Steve feels delicate in a way only Eddie has ever made him feel. His eyes flutter shut, letting a tear fall down his cheek as his hips press to Eddie’s, slowly, rhythmically, steadily. Eddie’s thumb swipes over his chin, and Steve whimpers as he processes how slick it is.
Eddie smiles at him fondly, his other hand spread against the small of his back, tilting his head. His thumb, wet with Steve’s spit, brushes against his lower lip.
Steve’s jaw drops and he lowers his head, pressing his hands against Eddie’s chest, covering his tattoos with his palms, and Eddie’s smile widens. He presses his thumb into Steve’s mouth, nodding.
Steve lets his eyes fall shut, closing his mouth around Eddie’s thumb, sucking gently. Eddie’s fingers curl around his chin, holding him, nodding as Steve whines, grinding against him, almost rolling his body against Eddie’s. Eddie slides his thumb out a little bit before he presses it back in, sliding it over Steve’s tongue, and Steve’s eyes roll into his head.
Eddie laughs lightly, almost giggling, pressing his thumb into Steve’s tongue until it pushes his mouth open, and Steve lets out a guttural groan, hands sliding to Eddie’s waist. His fingertips press into his flesh.
“That feel good, baby?” Eddie says sweetly. Steve moans weakly, groaning a pathetic Yeah around his thumb. “You want more?”
Steve nods desperately.
“Go a little faster for me, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, slipping his hand under the hem of Steve’s shirt. His hand is cold against Steve’s skin, but it still feels like it’s burning through him. Steve shifts his weight to his knees, lifting himself up to move faster, desperately. “Fuck, that’s good. Open your mouth for me.”
He’s breathless, and Steve whines, listening closely, opening his mouth, groaning as Eddie presses his index and middle fingers into his mouth. He’s so gentle, watching like he’s in awe as Steve sucks on them, holding Eddie’s waist tightly. Eddie presses them in and out, smiling proudly.
Steve catches his wrist as he starts to pull his fingers out, leaning forward so they slide back into place.
“Alright?” Eddie asks softly, whispering. Steve looks into his eyes, pulling his wrist, tilting his head down, forcing Eddie’s fingers in deeper until they’re nudging at his throat. And he sees stars.
His back arches as he suppresses a gag, and he closes his eyes, moaning loudly.
“Jesus fuck, Steve.”
“Mm.”
Steve’s spit is dripping over Eddie’s hand, and he briefly wishes Eddie was wearing his rings.
“You like that?” Eddie asks breathlessly, leaning up to kiss the side of Steve’s neck, biting gently. “You like my fingers in your throat, baby?”
“Yeah,” Steve gasps, and he feels debauched. Fully dressed and so hot he feels like he might die. Eddie’s fingers in his mouth, his dick pressed against Steve’s. His voice is muffled by Eddie’s fingers, slurred and mumbled. “Feels so good, Eds, I— I love your hands s’much.”
“Baby,” Eddie breathes. He slides his tongue up the side of his neck, slowly, lingering at his jaw, and Steve keens, whining, his head falling back, and he knows he’s being noisy, knows he hasn’t stopped making noises this entire time, desperate, weak, pathetic noises, but he can’t stop. Can’t shut himself up.
“Fuck, I— I need more.”
“Take it,” Eddie says, biting him. “Take what you need, Stevie, make yourself feel good.”
“Oh, God.”
“I got you, baby, you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” Steve says breathlessly as Eddie’s hand falls from his mouth. Eddie nods, lifting his fingers to his own mouth, sucking Steve’s spit off. Steve whines, leaning back and looking down at where they’re pressed together. The front of his sweatpants is tented, and there’s a damp spot. “Shit.”
“It’s okay,” Eddie tells him, reaching to hold his hips. “I got you, babydoll, you’re doing so good for me.”
Steve shivers, pressing against him harder, biting his lip, whining again, and he knows it sounds like he hates it, but he doesn’t, he fucking wants it, so, so so, badly. He sounds pathetic, whimpering and whining and crying as he uses Eddie’s body, as Eddie lets him. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, hugging him tightly, moving against him desperately, whining loudly, his voice high in his throat.
“Eddie—”
“Yeah, baby,” Eddie gasps, pressing a hand into the arch of his back.
“Fuck, it’s so much, it’s so much, Eddie, I—”
“What’s your color, Stevie?” Eddie checks, pulling back to look into his eyes.
“Green,” Steve gasps, grabbing at Eddie’s hair. “Green, don’t fucking stop, baby, please, it— it feels so good.”
“Jesus.”
Steve sobs, pressing his forehead to Eddie’s, gasping for breath, trembling.
“You’re so close,” Eddie says softly, encouragingly. “You’re gonna come, baby boy, don’t stop.”
“Fuck, I don’t wanna stop,” Steve cries. “I don’t wanna stop, I wanna come for you, Eddie, please, please—”
“Come for me, baby,” Eddie whispers, nipping at his earlobe. “Come on, Stevie, baby, you got it.”
Steve whines, hugging Eddie’s neck, hiding his face, but Eddie pushes him back, lifting his chin and pulling him into a messy kiss. Steve groans low in his throat, clutching at him, breathing hard, letting out another sob.
He presses down harder, reaching back, his hand landing on Eddie’s knee, and he leans back, using it as a sort of leverage as he moves against Eddie. His eyes squeeze shut for a moment as he swirls his hips, groaning as Eddie’s hand finds his neck, holding him gently.
“Fuck,” Eddie says breathlessly, watching, eyes wide and dark. “‘S my boy, good job.”
“Eddie, fuck—”
“Come for me, baby.”
Steve moans, his eyes rolling into his head as his body flushes with heat, and it’s like the sky is opening up above him, like the stars are bathing him in their light, and Eddie’s hands are holding him, fingers wrapped around his throat. And Steve kind of feels like he might be dying, like this is it, like this is all he’s been waiting for. Like everything in his life has been leading to this moment.
He knows this isn’t it, that he has days coming after this, that the sun will rise in the morning, and as his head falls to Eddie’s shoulder, the thought wraps around him in the form of Eddie’s arms. And then he’s smiling into Eddie’s neck, humming weakly, his voice breaking.
“Are you okay?” Eddie asks softly, running a hand over his back, voice painted with worry. And Steve’s head feels like it’s filled with cotton and dust, but he does his best to respond, nodding.
“‘M okay.”
“God, Steve.”
Steve whines, pressing closer, sliding his hands over Eddie’s chest. He still feels warm, and he’s still squirming in Eddie’s lap, shifting his hips against Eddie, who’s still hard. It feels nice, even though it’s a little overwhelming to Steve, and he doesn’t stop, even as Eddie’s hands find his hips, holding him gently.
“You’re amazing,” Eddie whispers. Steve’s smile widens, and he rubs his nose against the side of Eddie’s neck, making him giggle.
“I’m so…”
Steve trails off, exhaling heavily, shifting again, and Eddie hugs him.
“So…”
“…I don’t know,” he whispers. “I’m like… Tired. But ’s good.”
“You feel good?”
“Mm. Feels good.”
He hears Eddie laugh softly, running a hand across the small of his back.
“‘S sticky,” Steve mumbles absently, and Eddie laughs again, turning his head to kiss Steve’s temple. “Cold.”
“Wanna show me?”
Steve suppresses a sleepy smile and sits up, pausing briefly to press a kiss to Eddie’s jaw, and he hums when he sits up straight, arching his back to stretch it. Eddie watches, eyes shining with something Steve is starting to understand. Something he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to.
He looks down at the darkened spot on the front of his sweatpants, and he hesitates for just a moment before he hooks his thumbs on the waistband and tugs it out of the way,
Eddie tilts his head to look, and Steve’s cheeks are lit aflame by humiliation as he reaches to tug at the front of his waistband. Steve’s come is sticking to his boxers, messy and gross, but Eddie just smiles, looking up at Steve, who’s looking away, embarrassed.
“Good boy,” Eddie says quietly, whispering, lifting his chin to prompt Steve to lower his head close enough to kiss him, and Steve does, exhaling and closing his eyes, letting his lips part for Eddie’s tongue to slip between them. “Baby.”
“Mm.”
Eddie lets go of the waistband, letting it snap against his skin, and Steve snorts, cheeks warm.
“Wanna go take a shower and clean up?” Eddie asks softly.
Steve hesitates, his head ducked shyly. He does want to take a shower. He feels kind of gross (in a way that he finds he doesn’t completely mind), and a shower would be nice, but the idea of being away from Eddie, of a door between them, makes him feel cold.
“…Will you come with me?” he asks quietly, looking to meet Eddie’s eyes. Eddie’s head is tilted like he’s curious, and he lifts a hand to touch his face.
“You sure?” he whispers.
Steve nods. He’s sure. He wants it.
To stand under the spray of water with Eddie, their skin bare and exposed, wet and sliding across each other, their hair tangling.
He wants to see all of Eddie. Wants Eddie to see all of him.
Every bruise and faint scar, every shift of his muscles beneath his skin, every freckle and mole. He wants to see each of Eddie’s tattoos, wants to memorize them all, to see them every time he closes his eyes.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Please.”
Eddie smiles up at him, eyes squinting as his cheeks rise, and it’s like he’s glowing. Steve’s chest aches.
Steve is wobbly when he stands, holding Eddie’s hands tightly, head fuzzy as he follows him slowly to the bedroom. He watches, leaning against a wall, as Eddie collects fresh clothes, and he knows Eddie is just grabbing clothes from his unorganized drawers, but he’s gazing, watching like he’s in awe, because Eddie’s just Eddie, just a man, just flesh and bone, but Steve feels like he’s on the verge of tears, watching him.
He’s so beautiful Steve’s whole body aches. He makes existing look so easy, tossing a freshly cleaned pair of boxers in the air and catching it with a silly flourish that makes Steve giggle, looking over his shoulder to smile at Steve with an ease that Steve longs for.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Eddie says as he takes Steve’s hand to lead him to the bathroom, his other arm holding their clothes, and Steve clings to his wrist, following him helplessly. Eddie’s hair shifts in the air as he walks, and Steve suddenly feels sick, and he needs to shut himself up before he says it—
He tugs at Eddie’s hand, and Eddie turns, lips already parted to speak, but Steve leans in to kiss him before he can say anything. Eddie hums, smiling against Steve’s mouth, fingers tightening on Steve’s. Steve doesn’t let him go far when they part for a breath, leaning in and catching Eddie’s lips again, because he needs to keep his mouth busy until the urge passes.
Because he knows it’s too soon.
Ridiculously, insanely too soon. He would be stupid to say it, especially now, making out with Eddie in the bathroom after coming in his pants so pathetically. (Eddie didn’t seem to mind, obviously.) But Eddie always makes Steve feel kind of stupid.
Steve groans into the kiss, stepping closer, tilting his head, letting his lips part. Eddie grins, opening his mouth, and Steve licks across his teeth, reaching to wrap his arms around his neck. Eddie drops the clothes onto the counter, and then his hands are pushing under Steve’s shirt, his fingertips cold, his palms warm, and Steve whines. He pushes Eddie toward the counter, and Eddie giggles when his back hits the edge of it, pressing a hand into the small of Steve’s back.
Steve’s eyebrows furrow and he tilts his head, burying a hand in Eddie’s hair and pulling as Eddie’s tongue slides into his mouth. Eddie lets out a soft sound, humming into Steve’s mouth, fingers pressing into Steve’s flesh in a way that would make Steve self conscious were it anyone else touching him, but Eddie’s hands make him feel beautiful.
He moves closer to Eddie, shifting so their bodies are locked, pressed together completely, and Steve’s breath catches in his throat when he realizes that Eddie is still hard, straining against the fabric of his sweatpants.
“Eds,” he mumbles, tugging at his hair again.
“Mm,” Eddie hums breathlessly. “Yeah, baby.”
“Can I touch you?”
Eddie kisses him again, nibbling on his lower lip, dragging his hand up and then down Steve’s back, his nails tracing his spine.
“You don’t have to,” he says softly. “‘S okay.”
“Wanna,” Steve says petulantly, licking into Eddie’s mouth. “Wanna make you come.”
“Fuck.”
Steve hums.
“May I?” he whispers between kisses.
“Go for it, honey.”
Steve grins into the kiss, biting his lip briefly before he pulls away and bites his own lip as their foreheads press. He looks down, reaching for the drawstring of Eddie’s sweatpants. He tugs them down, tracing the hem of his underwear hesitantly. The dragon’s tail dips under it, winding around the trail of hair that Steve pauses to pet, stroking gently.
“Alright?” Eddie whispers. Steve nods, slipping his fingertips under the waistband.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes.
“So are you,” Eddie whispers, kissing Steve’s forehead. “We’re a good-lookin’ couple, aren’t we?”
Steve giggles, looking up at Eddie shyly as he tugs his underwear down.
Eddie exhales when Steve touches him, and Steve gazes at him, sliding his hand over Eddie’s dick slowly, carefully. Eddie’s eyes close, his head falling back, when Steve tightens his hand. Steve smiles, tilting his head curiously.
“Does it feel good?” he asks softly after a while.
“Yeah, baby,” Eddie breathes. “Feels good. Love how you touch me.”
“I like touching you.”
Eddie lets out a soft noise, and Steve bites his lip, rubbing his thumb over the slit, looking at the way his own skin looks against Eddie’s. They are beautiful together.
He quickens his hand, squeezing, watching Eddie’s face, watching his lips part as he lets out a soft groan. His brows furrow and he grits his teeth like he’s wincing, like it hurts, but Steve knows it doesn’t. Because Eddie’s cheeks are flushed pink and he reaches to hold Steve’s neck, his palm to Steve’s throat.
Steve moans softly, letting his eyes flutter shut before he looks at him again.
Eddie is breathing heavily. He’s leaning back against the counter, and Steve watches his chest rise and fall with every breath. He looks down again, watches his hand shift up and down, watches Eddie’s skin become slick, and then he wants to taste it, wants Eddie’s dick in his mouth—
Which is a thing, he learned recently. Robin told him. Which could have been weird, but it was mostly just fun, sitting in Robin’s bed with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, chewing on gummy bears and giggling and gasping at everything she said. He learned lots of new words.
“Eddie,” he says quietly.
“Yeah,” Eddie says breathlessly.
“Can I use my mouth?”
Eddie’s eyes flutter open, and it takes a moment for his vision to focus.
“You want to?” he asks softly.
“Desperately.”
Eddie snorts, and he pulls Steve into a kiss by his throat, manhandling him forward, and Steve keens, melting against him, his hand pausing. Eddie’s teeth catch on Steve’s lip, tugging at it. Steve is breathless when they separate, and Eddie’s lips brush his when he speaks.
“Get on your knees.”
Steve’s stomach does a somersault. He moans.
He lowers to his knees slowly, mourning the loss of Eddie’s hand in his throat, but then he’s smiling because Eddie is pushing his underwear farther down, and Steve gazes at the safety pin on Eddie’s thigh.
“Pretty.”
“Thank you, baby.”
Steve leans forward and nuzzles against him, burying his nose in the hair at the base of Eddie’s dick, inhaling, sighing when Eddie’s fingers twist into his hair.
“You don’t have to,” Eddie whispers.
“Wanna.”
Eddie snorts, tugging at Steve’s hair gently, and Steve hums, finally lifting his hands to touch him, sliding his hands over his thighs, rubbing, squeezing, before he reaches for Eddie’s dick again, leaning his head back a little to look. When he squeezes, a bead of liquid appears, and he’s leaning in to lick it before he can even think.
“Shit,” Eddie breathes. “Mm.”
Steve hums, doing it again, closing his eyes. He listens to Eddie’s breathing become heavier, lingering close before he takes him into his mouth.
“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie says sharply. “So warm.”
Steve hums, sucking gently, and his head goes quiet. He reaches to hold Eddie’s hip, bobbing his head, humming weakly at the soft wet sounds that fill the air. His blood rushes, and his dick is filling out again. He pushes closer, longing for the feeling of Eddie’s dick sliding over the back of his tongue, for it to nudge too far down, where it shouldn’t go, where Steve wants it most.
He pulls away with a gasp, breathless, his chin slick with drool, his eyes half-shut like he’s sleepy.
“Want it in my throat,” he says absently, looking up at Eddie.
Eddie opens his eyes, looking at him. His cheeks are red, and he looks holy.
Steve melts, and he wants to cry. He falls to the side, legs folded under him like a mermaid basking in the sun, and he holds Eddie’s leg, looking up at him longingly. He wants to beg, to plead, and Eddie must see it on his face. He caresses his cheek, brushing his thumb under his eyes, and Steve turns into his palm, his lips parting to slide his tongue over Eddie’s skin.
“You sure?” Eddie whispers.
“Please,” Steve begs weakly, his voice cracking.
“Oh, baby,” Eddie breathes.
Steve moans quietly, arching his back, absently searching for friction.
“Take it slow,” Eddie says gently, running his hand into Steve’s hair again. “Okay? Don’t force it.”
Steve nods up at him, his heart pounding.
“Go ‘head, baby.”
Steve hums, opening his mouth again, sticking his tongue out, taking Eddie into his mouth again, sliding his tongue over the underside, tracing the vein that somehow tastes like the sky. Steve’s eyes roll into his head as he clutches at Eddie’s leg.
“Fuck, there you go, baby,” Eddie murmurs. “That’s it.”
Steve stiffens as Eddie’s dick nudges his throat, arching his back, furrowing his eyebrows.
Fuck.
“God, Stevie,” Eddie gasps. “You’re fucking amazing.”
Steve’s cheeks flush with heat, and he squeezes Eddie’s thigh, inhaling deeply before he relaxes, moving closer, letting Eddie’s dick push deeper, and his eyes sting as they fill with tears, and the ground is hard beneath him, pressing against his ankles and his hip, and it hurts but he doesn’t care.
He feels filthy.
He feels beautiful.
“Baby,” Eddie gasps, and his other hand finds Steve’s hair, pushing into his hair and gripping it tightly. Steve groans, pulling away to gasp for breath before he pushes in again. “Oh, fuck, Steve, fuck—”
Eddie tugs at his hair, hissing as Steve grips his thigh tightly.
“You like that, baby?” Eddie asks breathlessly, and Steve lets out a garbled yeah. “Yeah, you do. Fuck, you like my cock down your throat—”
Steve lets out a guttural groan, sliding his hands up to Eddie’s ass, pulling so Eddie’s dick pushes deeper, and Eddie lets out a moan, his head falling forward.
“‘S my boy,” Eddie says, groaning. “So good for me, babydoll, you’re so perfect.”
Steve whines, blinking tears out of his eyes. They’re hot as they roll down his cheeks, and he knows he’s pathetic, crying with Eddie’s dick down his throat, but Eddie’s fingertips are light on his cheeks as he wipes them away, carefully, lovingly.
“Fuck,” Eddie gasps. “You’re so beautiful, Stevie, my beautiful boy.”
Steve groans.
He only wants to hear Eddie’s voice for the rest of his life, just like this. Gentle and sweet and tender, echoing off the tile walls, covering him like a warm blanket, like an umbrella in the pouring rain.
He lets out a soft moan when Eddie pulls his head back by his hair, his shoulders slumping. Strings of spit fall from his mouth to his legs, darkening the fabric of his sweatpants.
“Breathe for me,” Eddie murmurs, and Steve does, panting, his chest rising and falling as he holds onto Eddie’s leg. “You okay?”
“Yes,” Steve gasps, looking up at him. “I like it, I like it so much, please—”
“Okay,” Eddie breathes. “I got you, sweetheart, you want it that bad?”
Steve nods pathetically, breathing hard.
“Want it,” he says absently, weakly, and he can’t say anything else because his mouth doesn’t seem to be connected to his brain.
“You want me to fuck your face, baby?” Eddie asks condescendingly, his voice sweet, and Steve’s stomach flips over. He whines, nodding, tears slipping down his face. “Sweet boy.”
“Please,” Steve breathes.
“Please what?”
“Eddie,” Steve whines, crying, hugging his leg, lifting his chin, but Eddie doesn’t let him, his fingers shifting to move his dick away from Steve’s mouth. “Please, baby.”
“Please what, sweetheart?” Eddie asks again, smiling, and Steve wants to pout. “What do you want, Stevie?”
“Eddie,” Steve whimpers, looking up at him. “Fuck my face. Please. Want your cock in my throat.”
“Jesus fuck, Steve,” Eddie says.
“Fuck me,” Steve says again, setting his chin on Eddie’s leg to look up at him. “Please, baby.”
Eddie’s dick jumps, and Steve grins, rubbing Eddie’s thigh gently, humming suggestively, whining when Eddie tugs his hair again.
“Take a deep breath for me,” Eddie says softly. Steve nods, inhaling, shifting onto his knees. “Ready?”
“Yes—” Steve says, just barely stopping himself from adding a soft sir at the end of the word. Which he knows is weird. Eddie is only a few years older than him, and they haven't even really talked about the way Eddie always takes charge, the way he talks to Steve like he can’t think for himself. Or the way it makes Steve melt into a human puddle, the way it makes him feel like he’s falling in love.
Other things make him feel like that too.
The way Eddie touches his waist when he’s passing by him in the kitchen, the way he glances at Steve when Steve glances at him, suppressing a shy smile.
The way Eddie’s voice sounds in the morning, all rough and gravelly and sexy, right in Steve’s ear as he says Good morning, beautiful because he knows it makes Steve shivers.
The way Eddie’s fingers feel in his mouth.
The way Eddie’s sweatshirts and bedsheets smell.
The way Eddie absently presses his fingertips into the soft flesh of Steve’s stomach and hips like he wants to pull him apart.
A lot of things about Eddie make Steve feel like that.
Eddie guides his dick into Steve’s mouth, one hand gripping his hair, and Steve moans softly, his eyes fluttering shut. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s legs as he takes him deeper, shifting to sit on his bottom again, holding Eddie’s legs tightly.
It’s gross, the way Eddie’s dick slides down his throat and then comes back out a little bit, the way Eddie grips his hair and guides his head up and down slowly, murmuring quietly. Steve chokes. He gags. His knees are sore from the ground. And he loves it.
His throat makes a clicking sound around Eddie’s dick, and he lets go of Eddie’s leg, reaching to his own lap, rubbing himself over his sweatpants. He moans, gasping when Eddie pulls out for a moment.
“Fuck,” Eddie groans. “That’s good, baby, you’re doing so good for me.”
Steve whines, lifting his chin to beg for more. Eddie gives it to him, moaning loudly. It echoes.
Steve’s hand pushes under his sweatpants, rubbing quickly as he clutches at Eddie’s thigh. His dick is already slick with come, and he groans.
“Fuck, are you touching yourself?” Eddie asks breathlessly. Steve whines, pulling away and gasping for breath, nodding, crying.
“Yeah,” he chokes. “Fuck, it feels so good, Eddie.”
“God, Steve.”
“Please,” Steve says weakly. “Gimme more, baby, please.”
“Open your mouth, baby.”
He does, sticking his tongue out, looking up at him, and it’s like he’s waiting for communion, like he’s waiting for Eddie to bless him.
And that’s exactly what Eddie does.
He presses his thumb to Steve’s tongue, pushing his jaw down. Steve keens, closing his mouth around it and sucking. Eddie smiles softly, curling his fingers under Steve’s chin. Steve squeezes his dick, whining.
“Open,” Eddie says softly. Steve lets his jaw drop. Spit falls down his chin. And then Eddie is sliding three fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue, and Steve groans, closing his eyes. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” Steve says weakly, his voice muffled by Eddie’s hand. Eddie grins, pushing his fingers deeper, stretching Steve’s mouth open. Steve whines, letting out a weak sob.
“That’s my boy,” Eddie says fondly. “Sweet baby.”
He pulls his fingers away, and Steve sticks his tongue out to catch the strings of spit that connect them.
“You want my dick, sweetheart?”
Steve nods, gazing up at him.
“Please,” he breathes.
─────────────────
Steve lets his head fall back as Eddie kisses down his neck, biting his lip. Eddie pushes his hair out of the way, sliding it across his wet skin, and Steve shivers.
He slides his hands over Eddie’s waist, and when Eddie’s teeth press into his skin, he drags his fingernails across his back, humming. He isn’t sure if Eddie hears it over the spray of the shower, but he doesn’t care.
The steam from the shower smells like Eddie’s shampoo, like home, and Eddie’s skin sliding against his feels like heaven.
Steve’s cross is pressing into his chest, but he doesn’t mind. It’s warm from the water, and from Eddie’s skin and his breath, and Steve isn’t even hard anymore (he hardly knew he was capable of having an orgasm, but less two in less than two hours), but he feels so fucking good.
Eddie’s hair slips between his fingers easily, and Steve wraps it around his fingers, pulling so Eddie pulls away. He does, smiling lazily, his tongue teasing his teeth, and Steve lets out a quiet moan.
There are drops of water caught in his eyelashes. His cheeks are pink. His piercings are shining.
“You’re so beautiful,” Steve breathes.
Eddie tilts his head, smiling softly. His hair is sticking to his neck, perfectly swirled over his skin, the dark color contrasting beautifully against his pale skin. Steve reaches out and pushes it away, leaning in to kiss his neck. Eddie laughs softly, letting him.
Steve sucks on his skin, humming quietly, letting Eddie tug at his hair. He bites gently, teasingly, smiling against his skin when Eddie grips his hair and holds him close as his other hand presses against the small of his back. Their bodies press together, their legs entwining, and Steve moans softly, hugging him tightly.
“Sweet lamb,” Eddie murmurs. Steve smiles again.
His cheeks are warm every time Eddie looks at his body.
He’s shy, even though Eddie whispered that he doesn’t have to be as they were undressing. His eyes linger on Steve’s chest, and Steve is self-conscious of how hairy he is, but Eddie is smiling the whole time. He murmurs into Steve’s ear that he’s beautiful, and Steve believes him.
Steve’s skin misses Eddie’s as they part, and he bites his lip to hold back a whine as he watches him turn to get the soap. His hair is stuck to his skin, but it’s parted just enough that Steve can see ink under the nape of his neck.
He reaches up before he can even think, dragging his fingertips across Eddie’s shoulders to gather his hair out of the way, and Eddie lets him, his head turning a little bit like he wants to turn and look at him. He doesn’t, and Steve pushes his hair away enough to see the tattoo.
It’s an eye. Looking back at Steve, shining. It kind of looks like it’s been etched into Eddie’s skin, the lines uneven and a little shaky like it’s a carving. There are lines around the eye like rays of light.
Steve traces it lightly, his fingertips just ghosting over the ink, and then he leans in and presses his lips to it. Eddie hums softly.
“Thank you,” Steve whispers, setting his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie’s head turns a little bit.
“For what?”
Steve sighs, closing his eyes, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist. Eddie’s hands slide over his forearms, and Steve kind of wishes they could absorb one another, that they could melt together.
“Taking care of me.’
Eddie hums again.
“Love taking care of you.” His voice is gentle, breathy, like he knows Steve feels like he’s about to fall asleep. Steve sighs again, tucking his face into the side of Eddie’s, shivering as Eddie drags his nails across his forearms lightly. “My sweet boy.”
♡ permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectrum @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg @romantiklen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme
♡ holy things taglist: @stevesbipanic @pearynice @ao3whore @slowandsteddie @swordsandflowercrowns @dragonmama76 @mikeys-thoughts @sofadofax @cyranyx @kazalohiku @lostonceandneverfound @strangerfreaks @bitchysteveharrington @nailbatanddungeon @newtstabber
(comment to be added/removed to/from either list!!)
♡ art of steve and eddie
♡ pinboard // playlist
♡ buy me a coffee
#!!!#sorry this is late ive been Having A Time#but im back!!#also ignore this if you want obv no pressure but if anyone is thinking ab donating to my kofi i would rly rly rly appreciate it#i have an exhibition coming up and i need to get some supplies#anyway#drink some water#take your meds#eat something yummy#love you love you love you#steddie#steddie fanfic#steve harrington#steve harrington fanfic#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#a mess of holy things
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A post I've been meaning to make but keep forgetting to is the fact that the way steadyhands can actually win is they need the three of them to balance eachother out.
Between them, we usually have only two of them freaking out at a time (unless I'm missing something) for example, s1e4. Stede and Izzy are both freaked abt the approaching Spanish navy, Ed is calm (even tho he kinda does rile them up a bit but I think he thinks he's playing, like with fang and the knife parade)
When stede is knocked off balance by killing Ned Low, izzy advises Ed to give him a minute. Ed doesn't really take that advice and goes forward anyway, which we see Ed later considers a mistake.
Again, we see Izzy take the role of mediator when Ed decides to leave, he goes to comfort Stede and suggests he gets back to the ship before he ends up on the wrong side of a sword (he knows stede is fucked up abt Ed and wants to get him somewhere safe before he takes those negative feelings out on someone else)
When Ed is still trying to claw his way out of the gravy basket and izzy is lost in his grief and booze, Stede comes to him to ask his opinion of Ed, knowing he cares deeply for him and hoping he will want him to stay, but he also expresses concern with izzys drinking and even scolds the unicorn when Izzy starts yelling at it in solidarity without a hint of sarcasm to it.
I don't think it's healthy in the long run, but I do think that until they get to a point where they are communicating properly and learning to manage their own mental health, it helps when one of them is the fulcrum while the others try to balance. Izzy is obviously trying to show his support for Ed and Stede in the only way he knows how, training him and giving him positive reinforcement when he does well at the things he's trying to do well. He talks to Ed abt his feelings after he tosses his leathers overboard and encourages him to do the thing he think might make him happy. And even tho this leads to Ed breaking things off with stede for the time being, that's not izzys fault that that's the direction he takes this. Remember, both Ed and Izzy recently attempted to take their own lives so I'm not gonna expect either of them to be in the right headspace.
I would like to see the inverse. One is upset with the other two trying to stabilize, but that's a ways out bc rn they're all upset all the time. Maybe one day they can all be happy and getting along at the same time. I dunno.
#steadyhands#steddyhands#ofmd#ofmd s2 spoilers#our flag means death#ofmd s2#izzy hands#stede bonnet#ofmd blackbeard
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Hi Sarah! I’m just wanting some convos between reader and her friends about husband Eddie. I know she gossips about their relationship to maybe Nancy and Robin? 😂🥰
Hiii babes!!! Oh yes of course she tells Nancy and Robin details about Eddie and their relationship! I hope you enjoy these😂💖
-find all things husband Eddie here✨
-I put a 💕 next to the convos that are with Nancy and ✨ means it’s a convo with Robin
*Robin wants all the details on your wedding night but instantly regrets it*
✨ “wait wait…you mean to tell me Eddie Munson did all that? No fucking way…” “you’d be surprised what he’s capable of.” “But he’s just…such a pushover…” “I mean yeah but that’s…outside of the bedroom.” “So what as soon as the lights go out he turns into this assertive dominant…man?” “Why did you say man like it was a question?” “Because i’ve always thought he identified as like a string bean but what you’re describing is…well no vegetable I know can do all that.” “You’re so annoying.” “So it was good then? Like better than it was before marriage?” “Oh totally better than before we were married…I don’t know why…maybe something about getting to call him my husband or something?” “I always knew you two were freaks.” “You’re the one who asked how it was.” “Yeah…I shouldn’t have done that.”
💕 “I’m going to kill him.” “What did he do now?” “He ate the last fucking bag of hot Cheetos and I don’t have a back up like I normally do because he’s making me lay off them for a bit.” “He’s making you take a cheeto break? Why?” “Fuck if I know! Something about it’s not good for me or some shit.” “I can tell you’re really mad…want to see if I have any?” “No…I just want you to tell me if it’s okay if I kill him or not.” “No you can’t kill him…you’d miss him the moment there’s a spider in the shower.” “That’s true he is good at killing spiders…damn him.” “You can always tell Wayne that Ed is being an asshole…” “i can’t use Wayne for everything…besides Wayne will be on his side he hates my hot Cheetos addiction.” “Those Munson men…what assholes.” “Right? So rude…and can’t even kill them because they’re so useful…so damn annoying.”
✨ “I’m sorry you said he did what now?” “He almost caught his hair on fire using the stove.” “Like…on fire on fire? Or it just got singed a bit?” “Oh it got singed a bit and set the smoke alarm off.” “I bet it smelled like ass didn’t it?” “It did…so from now on he has to have his hair up if he’s using the stove.” “And here I thought Steve was a fire hazard with all the product he has in his hair but turns out it was Eddie I should’ve been worried about.” “Steve keeps his hair short for a reason” “oh that makes so much sense! So it doesn’t combust!” “Exactly.” “That’s your man though…brunt hair and all.” “Yup that’s my man…gotta love him.” “I mean I don’t have to…but I get what you mean.”
💕 “Nancy! Guess what Eddie just got.” “A new hair mask?” “No…he does need one though his hair is looking a little blah.” “I liked the one he used to make his hair all shiny.” “Same it was nice…but it’s not hair related.” “Uh…new seat covers for the van?” “I fucking wish…the cracked leather is so annoying to sit on but he’s stubborn and super picky so sadly that’s also not it.” “Okay…a new guitar strap?” “God you’re not good at this…it’s a tattoo.” “Oh of what?” “He got my initial on his ring finger.” “Shut up no he didn’t.” “Oh but he did….” “Holy shit that’s…kinda romantic?” “Right? At first i was like what the fuck is wrong with you? But the more I was looking at it…it’s growing on me.” “Yeah? You gonna get his?” “Hell no…I already have a bat that matches his…that’s about all he’s getting.” “Let me see the font he used for your initial….oh that’s cute…yeah I like it.” “Yeah he said it’s mainly because he doesn’t like to wear his ring while at work so this will help keep the bitches away while he doesn’t have it on.” “Keep the bitches away? Does Eddie…get bitches?” “I mean he got me didn’t he Nancy? Edward James Munson would shock the shit out of with how many chicks are actually interested in him…so yeah he has to keep the bitches away.” “Well whatever works…is that the only one he’s getting for you?” “He has my name on his side…but yeah I think that’s it.” “I forgot about the name one…didn’t he get that when you two were broken up?” “He doesn’t like to talk about it…but yes.” “Right I forget he’s sensitive about that time in your relationship.” “He’s a sensitive little metal head.”
#eddie extras#husband eddie munson#eddie munson series#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you fluff#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x wife!reader#nancy wheeler#robin buckley#Eddie Munson#my little dungeon master baby
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"we were moving too fast" (run me through scene)
tldr:
I was digging, because, well, I just find this scene kinda weird. Like, why, and also what for?
We start the episode in a very yellow way. The most yellow in this show. But the practice takes place at night, in the darkness. Like, they are in the darkness. About their real feelings. To each other.
Soooo, the sword. Piercing your left side. Should I say more? The sword is an arrow that pierces the heart.
Stede has problems with not hurting himself with his sword. He’s inexperienced and clumsy, just like his love. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t know what Ed’s actions really mean, and what his own mean to Ed.
Ed spanks him with his sword in a flirtatious gesture, but Stede doesn't know it was that, proving this later in the episode.
Ed doesn’t agree to draw, he even says he’ll never agree to that, he wants to take control over this relationship, over the direction and pace they go by. Stede, being inexperienced and curious, agrees.
Ed throws his sword away. He wants Stede’s love, but doesn’t plan of giving it back. He wants happiness, but isn’t ready for that step yet (because they haven’t eaten the snake snack yet)
Ed opens his leather jacked, his armor, bearing himself, but not fully, still in his black t-shirt.
Ed threatening Stede to shoot him if he won’t stab him is him (Ed) jumping head first into that relationship, like taking it too fast or something. Stede panics, but feels pressured, that if he won’t, Ed will leave him. He doesn’t want to hurt him (to defile him if you will). Idk if it’s relevant, probably, why not, but we saw, that Ed’s gun wasn’t loaded. It was an empty threat.
Ed is happy when Stede stabs him. The stabbing being something very sudden and painful, but at the same time pleasurable, because it let’s him be closer to Stede. He invites great pain, of letting someone in his heart, just to be close. Like some kind of auto destructive act. You cannot get love without hurting yourself. Like it’s the only way of receiving that love, that closeness with Stede - destroying some part of himself. (hey, what did he do again in e9?)
“You see, getting run through is an art, I’ve had it done to me dozens of times. The key is to take the blade where it does the least damage.” sure babygirl. Tell him how many affairs you had and how much you don’t care. Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean there’s no damage.
Ed says, the important bits are on the right side, according to science. First of all, it’s Stede, who’s the science guy here, second - heart is on the left. Ed doesn’t think his heart is important, doesn’t take care of it, just let people stab him in the past, no big deal. “I don’t even know, what it does!”, yeah, but we know, you detached from your own feelings dummy. And Stede also does, but isn’t confident enough to correct him. He doesn’t know what to do and doesn’t want to hurt Ed, so he just listens to whatever he says, but Stede doesn’t know Ed’s self destructive.
When Stede asks, how to get it out, Ed says to do it gently and slowly, and it’s him, who decides when to do it. Like what he was doing in episode 7 - slowly letting this relationship whither, getting ready to just go away, denying yourself any deeper connection.
But what Stede did in episode 9? He get it out fast and violently, leaving Ed bleeding out on that beach.
Stede has problems with getting the sword out, just like Ed had great difficulties with getting over his feelings to Stede. Stede’s still panicked and confused, but does as he’s told. He doesn’t decides on anything, doesn’t feel qualified to do it.
Hey, you know, who is in this ~darkness~ with them? Crying, probably not really sure why and what the hell is happening and why Ed would do that, and why it hurts so much, fuck it let’s kill Stede, that’s the best solution! Yeah. Acknowledging one’s feelings and communicating wasn’t fashionable yet.
.
Run me through is basically Stede not knowing what the hell he is doing or should do in this relationship, blindly following Ed, and Ed destroying himself to be with Stede. Not bloody optimal.
***
Izzy fuckin challenges Stede fuckin Bonnet to a fuckin duel, to get rid of his love rival. (and kinda sad Ed didn't do it even tho he promised) No chill on this ship.
Ed, all smart after having first honest conversation about his deepest fears and crying, gained +1 to emotional intelligence and is brave enough to say “no” to Izzy.
Izzy didn’t have his crying session in the bathtub, so he uses his official version as to why it’s so important to get rid of Stede, Ed’s too anxious and unsure to fight more. He’s really new to this whole processing your emotions stuff. Maybe Izzy’s right? (because Ed believed Izzy’s bullshit about pets)
Stede, sure he’s actually aceing this all relationship stuff finally, agrees. Ed’s worried, but Stede was sure Ed knows what he was doing, so whatever he learnt from Ed had to be brilliant and correct (bestie, no).
All that confidence, but then he asks “what are those [duel rules] exactly?”. Yeah… After saying that out loud, he gets more and more tense.
Stede is surprised by ferocity and suddenness of Izzy’s attacks. He didn’t expect he was fighting against someone This stronger (devoted and determinated). He probably didn’t know one can fight so aggressively.
Izzy’s doing everything to show Ed “look, I’m better than him, I care more than him!”.
Ed just watches in the background, anxious and worried. He doesn’t know what to do or if he should/can do anything at all.
Stede is shit at swordfight but he makes up for it with determination and resourcefulness. (he may not know how relationship with Blackbeard should go, but he’ll try treasure map in hopes it works)
“Yield or die.” Stede throws gun powder in his face. You see Izzy, violence and hate will only blow up in your face.
The crew wants Stede to finish Izzy, and he does that stupid spank, (love is the solution, Izzy, mate). Stede doesn’t really wants to stab Izzy, he just wants to not die (Stede doesn’t believe in Stizzy). Seriously, their relationship is basically this: Stede not wanting to fight (not even knowing why should they) and Izzy wanting him dead.
Izzy cuts Stede’s way of escape. Time to choose Bonnet: you leave my man or you die.
Ed can’t watch this. Homewrecker vs homewrecker is too much of a conflict of interests. He cannot watch his partner killing his boyfriend.
“All right, let’s call it a draw” let’s work together, Izzy. We can solve it together, you and me. Find the compromise and all that. Fr they both want the same thing for Ed.
“Nah I’m good��� and stabs Stede.
So what we have here? Izzy, right hand of Ed, stabs Stede, who does Ed’s trick, that he learnt from him. Stede’s looking at Ed, while doing that. Izzy is responsible for doing the hard jobs in place of Ed. Ed couldn’t do it, couldn’t commit. Was too scared to do it. He doesn’t look at Stede, when that happens (just as he doesn’t have the courage to look at Stede when saying “So, uh, I reckon what makes Ed happy…is…you.”, he doesn’t say “I”, distancing himself from the act of bearing his heart. He’s not talking about himself, just asking for a friend etc. He doesn’t do anything unless Stede shows any sign of reciprocation). So yeah, when Stede asks, if he did it right, that’s when he turns back and sees what happened.
“Shut up! Don’t you ever shut up?!” Stop seducing Ed with your pretty words Stede.
Again: Ed’s processing what’s happening, Izzy's wrestling with the sword, that stuck in cherry wood (red and strong). Stede responded to Ed: I love you, and I’m here to stay. And when it clicks in Ed’s brain, Izzy’s sword’s handle breaks, removing the middleman. Ed isn’t scared anymore. Stede probably still doesn’t fully understand what a “you wear fine things well” moment they have, but he knows he wants to stay with Ed (and not die). The feeling is mutual, just that no one really understand what feeling it is. And Izzy cannot stop it.
(Remember, when I said the stabbing was about hurting yourself to be in a relationship? Stede wasn’t ready, but agreed to run away to China with Ed)
Also, to make yourself sad, consider:
Stede getting miserable after letting himself take initiative for 1 second just to be rejected for it (in his eyes at least)
Izzy looks at Ed, completely crushed. So you breaking up with me?
Ed only shrugs, Izzy started this fight after all. Izzy looks at Stede, still shocked, completely deflates and makes his walk of shame.
After Izzy’s gone, Ed comes to Stede, very impressed, and it’s the first time he faces Stede when initiating the touch (tbh it kinda parallels their almost embrace, when Stede stabbed Ed). Before that, when he touched him, he was always turned sideways to Stede, not fully facing him.
“You shouldn’t’ve dueled him, Iz! We could've worked this out!” We could have invite him to our relationship Iz, if you weren’t such a possessive prick. No joke, Ed and Stede would agree to a polycule, after strengthening their relationship (like figuring out what they want etc., all three of them). Izzy, as a true tragic character, has played himself. (just like when in e9, Izzy wanted to take Ed for himself and escalated the conflict to such a unnecessary degree, that the only option was to leave him again. The harder he tries, the more it back fires)
In conclusion: Those scenes showed their dynamic in season 1, about Ed and Stede going too hard too fast, and now (s2) they’re learning to take it slow
Also:
#Also while writing this I realized that the Fuckery could actually symbolize fucking#Lol#I didn't expect for this whole theory to fit so well#our flag means death#Ofmd#Ofmd s2#ofmd meta#edward teach#stede bonnet#izzy hands#edizzy#gentlebeard#Steddyhands
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Episode 6 and 7 thoughts
This will now be a regular thing
Also im writing this as I go
Episode 6
So Izzy thought Ed was Roach. Huh. Does he and Roach talk regularly? <- Coming from a Rizzy shipper
“Do weeeee?” Fang I love you
Oh my god, Frenchie and Jim coming to Ed and Stede like they’re kids asking if their cousins can sleep over
The crew going shoppiiiiiiiiing!!!
Frenchie’s lil dancey dance added many years to my life
Ed being nice and giving kids mon- oh never mind, oh that’s a knife okay. Ed never have kids please
“Don’t pirate kids” well listen okay I don’t have HBO Max it’s the only way I can watch this show
MY QUEEN
Wee John you’re so beautiful and amazing and we don’t deserve you
Jim’s lil mustache, like yeah me too <- Non-Binary person
Stede looks so happy about seeing Wee John!! He’s so proud of his son!
Izzy is gorgeous. I’m actually so happy to see him explore more sides of himself, and to find things he can indulge in. This whole season has really just been Izzy’s big therapy arc
His hair makes him look a bit like Cinderella’s evil stepmother though
Oh he can sing too! Izzy!!! <- A person who did not like Izzy in season one
Wee John X Izzy? Roach X Fang?
YO THE
POLYCULE DANCING?!
Ed protecting Stede….just, immediately putting him behind himself…I just…
I rewatched that clip five times
“Because I only hang out with cool pirates” Stede’s face!!! He’s just like Oh Snapppp
Despite it all, Stede and Ed are still the cutest couple that has ever graced the TV screen. Like hell yeah, make fun of people together!
Ed keeps being protective…..okay I need a moment…
Roach you’re a lunatic and I love you
“Whatever this is it’s just gonna turn me on” Izzy you’re a shining star
Also I just now noticed that Black Pete and Lucius aren’t there. I’m guessing they eloped somewhere and are currently taking care of their adopted cat
Nope okay, literally the second I unpaused there they are. That’s the worst timing
Hell yeah my dudes, I hope you broke whatever bed you used
“I’m just doing it for the lolz” Yeah that’s sounds like something someone from the 1700s would say
I know this is a pirate ship but why do they just have so many knives and swords laying about
Who is this fanged torture queen, and how do I acquire her number?
Stede remains best employer, while Aziraphale is the best landlord. Can these two people just run the world please and thank you
Hell Cat Maggie is my soulmate
I feel like there needs to be a pirate workers union
The crew of the revenge is the best found family of all time
Stede Bonnet can rival Steven Universe in reforming villains, like he’s just such a genuinely nice dude
“Alright gang! Let’s talk profit sharing”
Oh protective Stede, alright let’s go mate defend your mans
Okay but why is Stede kinda 👀 in this scene
Oh Stede, love…
OH THEY FAWHKING
That French? Izzy speaks french?
I want to see that man get dicked down
I guess the revenge now has a pet goat
Episode 7
Okay Ed is a soft boy again, aight
NO NOT THE LEATHER JACKET
The anime toast in mouth thing. He’s officially been baby girl for a long while, but we’re really solidifying it
OH THEY FUCKED
Isn’t there an anime where a mob boss becomes a house wife? Yeah that’s Ed
Oh we’re telling him about the mermaid fantasy, okay
Izzy what the fuck, you’re amazing
“He’s jealous” my darling
The polycule is going strong, and I love the absolute lack of jealousy. This is the best representation I have ever had
Oh they’re going on a date! That’s so sweet actually
It’s really sweet that they’re talking about their time apart
Stede’s famous now? Good for him!
I need to stop falling in love with every pirate lady In this show. That being said, I hope we see more of the fangirl lady
I’m reinforcing my claim that Stede and Ed are cuter than anything that has ever been on screen
OH MY GOD SWEDE
The Söt Och Saftig, my love. Also this far in and this is the first time the character “The Swede” actually says something in Swedish
Scammer Frenchie is back in business, love that
Jim and Archie trying to get their boyfriend set up is very sweet actually
The character development of Izzy going from wanting Ed to remain “Blackbeard” to him saying if being a softie makes him happy then he should do that, like I get it now, I know why you all love this man
OH MY FUCKING GOD STEDE
Can’t believe Stede is an official Slut now
Open communication? Like genuine conversation about their relationship, and the pace they’re taking it? Ed being honest that he’s not ready for the steps they’re taking in their relationship?
What is this argument
I live for Lucius and Black Pete’s nicknames for each other
“I’ve only known you for a few hours Bonnet, but I’d fucking die for ya” Same random dude. Same
Izzy🥹
Zheng and Olu are really cute actually
Oh my god the polycule will end my fucking life
DONT BRING ED INTO THIS ZHENG
“That was really mean” YOU TELL HER STEAK KNIFE
Protective Jim my beloved
Oh my god
Roach and Fang friendship?
Roach is the queen of self care
#ofmd 2#ofmd spoilers#ofmd season 2#ofmd s2#ofmd#our flag means death#Stede Bonnet#Edward Teach#Blackbonnet#Stedward#Gentlebeard#Izzy Hands#Ofmd roach#Rizzy#Ofmd fang#jim jimenez#Ofmd Archie#oluwande boodhari#Ofmd Frenchie#lucius spriggs#Black Pete#Lupete#Oluwarchim#tealoranges#wee john feeney#Hell cat Maggie#zheng yi sao#ofmd the swede
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[Our Flag Means Death] Winning Hands
Title: Winning Hands
Summary: Celebrations for Calypso's birthday continue as Izzy is passed around during a poker game.
["Looks like you had a bit of an all deck on hands kind of situation here."]
Characters: Izzy Hands, Crew of the Revenge
Rating: Explicit. I mean it's a gangbang of course it is.
A/N: Look, it's porn. Not a lot more to say.
Also I have absolutely no idea how poker works. But since the crew is playing a game that had yet to be invented they probably don't either.
***
To absolutely no one’s surprise, Izzy turns out to be very, very tight at the first fuck.
Not that he was unwilling, oh no. He was very willing. Vocally, too, because they asked several times to make absolutely sure he wanted this. Maybe one time too many, since he got frustrated enough to mutter they could all fuck off if fucking him seemed like such a chore they’d make up one excuse after the other.
They were not making excuses, Lucius - who had never taken back the offer to sketch him - had reassured him. But the thing was that Izzy hadn’t just kind of stepped out of his comfort zone that night: he’d launched himself like a cannonball several miles out of it, with the make-up and the singing and whatnot.
And the last thing any of them wanted was for him to wake up the next morning and regret any part of it.
Izzy had actually scoffed at the notion, arms crossed. “Surely, you can’t be all that disappointing,” he’d muttered, and that had been it. The crew had looked at each other - well, a good chunk of the crew: Ed and Stede were likely in the process of going at it like rabbits in the cabin, while Olu, Archie and Jim had retired below deck to do the same - and in the end, it had gone ahead.
It being a rather entertaining poker game no one is really focusing on, because focusing on the cards happens to be hard as all hell with Izzy coming undone over each of their laps, all of his clothes folded in a neat pile on the chair his wooden leg is leaning against. There was a moment’s hesitation before taking it off, but it had to go to get the trousers off and well, no need to put it back on once he’s naked.
He doesn’t need to walk right now, anyway, not with plenty of cocks to sit on.
It’s Fang to go first, and if the practiced ease of his gestures as he gets him ready is anything to go by, it’s not his first round with Izzy. Though it’s very doubtful that, in any of those prior encounters, he allowed himself to murmur against the nape of Izzy’s neck how pretty he is, how lovely, how well he takes all of him as he sinks down, down on his lap with a hiss and a shaky exhale of breath.
The praise gets noises out of Izzy, broken up enough one could think he’s in pain if the look on his face - the way he’s biting his lower lip, leaning back against Fang’s shoulder, chest shuddering in a harsh gasp - didn’t make clear that’s not the case.
“You good, Iz?” Fang is asking, stroking up his stomach and across a chest that Lucius honestly thinks should have never been hidden by clothes because what the hell. Had he known that was what hid beneath the leather, he’d have torn it off Izzy with his teeth a long time ago.
“Yes-- fuck-- yes.”
“Good. Let’s get you nice and open, slowly now…”
He does take it slow, steady, hips rising and falling gently as he plays the first hand, one arm wrapped around Izzy’s waist, keeping him flush against him. Izzy tries to tilt his hips, to clench, anything to make him go faster, but all it takes is some murmured praise - so good, oh you’re doing such a good job, you feel so warm - for the whine of protest to turn into a groan, face flushing red beneath the make-up.
“You’re going to sweat all my hard work away, sweetheart,” Wee John says, in his Calypso voice, just before he drops a card that pretty much relinquishes that first hand to Frenchie.
(Later, they will find out that Wee John had victory within his grasp then, and chose not to take it because he wanted to wait for Izzy to be more open before he had a go; having seen his dick, Lucius will have to admit it was good thinking.)
Unaware of having been handed victory by the sea goddess herself, Frenchie grins. “My hand, my turn. You anywhere near close, Fang?”
A throaty chuckle. “Yeah, close enough,” he pants, and kisses the back of Izzy’s shoulder. “You all right for me to go a bit harder?”
“I’ve been-- fucking telling you--”
“Be nice, Izzy. Say please.”
“Fuck off,” Izzy groans, and it turns into a whine of frustration when Fang stills, balls deep in him but entirely unmoving. He tries to fuck himself onto his cock anyway, but both of Fang’s arms are around him, holding him down, and he cannot move. A shudder, and he drops his head with a near sob.
“Please,” he rasps.
Fang is kind enough not to make him ask twice, and suddenly he’s fucking up into him, a steady rhythm that makes Izzy almost cry out with relief, holding onto Fang’s arms to keep himself steady. It is short-lived, however: Fang wasn’t kidding when he said he was close. The rhythm of his thrusts falters and then he groans against Izzy’s temple, holding him tight, coming deep inside and holding still a few moments.
“Ah-- yeah, that was good, you feel good…” He strokes down Izzy’s heaving chest, down his trembling stomach, but stops short of touching the hard, leaking cock. He chuckles at his needy moan, and the shuddering twitch of his hips.
“I’m sure Frenchie will take care of that,” he says, and pulls Izzy off his cock to pass him over to Wee John, who - pretty effortlessly - passes him on to Frenchie while Pete deals the cards for the second hand.
Frenchie is not as large as Fang, and settling on his lap doesn’t spread Izzy’s thighs quite as wide, but he seems to enjoy his dick well enough if the moan that leaves him is anything to go by. Frenchie picks up his cards, resting his chin on top of Izzy’s shoulder.
“You smell nice,” he says lightly, and takes a moment to play his turn before he turns his head to press a kiss against the side of Izzy’s neck, over the swallow tattoo. "Perfume?"
“The best I had,” Wee John grins, dropping a card.
“Nice.” Frenchie smiles, and tilts his hips. He doesn’t thrust upward, not once: he’s as far in as he can be anyway. He only leans against the backrest and tilts his hips in slow, circular motions that tear a groan out of Izzy. He's gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turn white. “I like how you smell without it too, you know,” he mutters against the nape of Izzy’s neck. “The leather and sea salt.”
“S-shut the fuck up and--” Izzy starts, but trails off with a groan when Frenchie’s hips still.
“Why don’t you sing a little more?” he asks, his grin widening as Izzy cranes his neck to give him a flustered glare. “Let us hear you sing again, and I’ll get moving.” A hand trails down his stomach, almost to his cock, then stills. “I promise."
“Oh! In French, do the French one,” Roach intervenes, putting some chips down, and Pete nods pretty enthusiastically.
“Yes, I liked that! Never heard French before.”
Lucius frowns. “I called you mon chéri just about a million times, babe,” he points out, gaining himself a stunned look from Pete.
“That was French??”
While Lucius is caught in the conundrum - tell him he’s an idiot, kiss him on the mouth, both in the order? - Izzy is taking in a shaky breath, too desperate for release to even bother with defiance.
“Q--quand il me prend dans ses bras-- Qu'il me parle t-tout bas-- Je vois la vie en rose--”
It’s a valiant attempt, to be fair, and even now his singing voice is unfairly gorgeous in Lucius’ opinion. But Izzy is obviously too out of it, and too out of breath, to carry the notes; he pants between verses, and each ends with a painful, whiny sort of noise deep in his throat. It’s delicious in a way, and someone pettier than Frenchie might keep it going a bit longer.
Luckily for Izzy, Frenchie opts to put him out of his misery after playing another couple of turns. He leans back on his chair, grabs Izzy’s thighs to keep him steady, and starts tilting his hips again. “Like this?” he asks, all sweetness and light, nosing the side of his neck.
The noise that gets out of Izzy is a moan, a sigh, and a scoff all wrapped into one.
“Yes-- wasn’t-- fucking hard was it,” he groans, committed to being a dick even while in the process of grinding down on someone’s rather more literal dick.
“Nah, it wasn’t hard. This is, though,” Frenchie grins, and grabs Izzy’s cock without warning. He shudders and comes undone before he can even manage to bite back his cry, throwing back his head to look at the sky, mouth agape and skin flushed. Frenchie doesn’t last much longer either, not with him clenching and shuddering around him. A couple more thrusts and he comes as well with a groan against the back of Izzy’s shoulder.
“Ah-- well.” A chuckle, that of someone coming down a high and not quite believing what just happened. “That was good.”
Izzy mumbles something that no one quite catches, swaying a little as if utterly boneless. Frenchie lets him rest against his chest, and wipes his hand against Izzy’s stomach before taking a look at the cards. He makes a face. “I fold,” he mutters, still out of breath. He’s barely caught it when Roach looks up and grins.
“I call, bitches,” he says, not even trying to hide his eagerness as his hands go to undo his belt. “Hand him over,” he says, and pauses when Fang clears his throat. “Ah, right, unless he wants a break. I can wait if he wants a break.”
Another scoff, and Izzy’s head lolls to the side. His carefully coiffed hair has come undone, sweat making it stick to his forehead. “I don’t need a fucking break,” he mumbles, and Roach is grinning again.
“That’s exactly what I was hoping to hear.”
It’s a bit ridiculous, really, how much taller than Izzy Roach is. Once he’s seated on his cock - not one Lucius would personally attempt to take without careful preparation, but Izzy is more than well prepared even for Wee John’s frankly concerning endowment at this point - Roach can very easily lean his chin over Izzy’s head, keeping him flush against his chest with one arm and holding the cards with the other hand.
Izzy definitely does need to be held up, because he’s still reeling from the earlier orgasm and his muscles must feel like cooked asparagus now. He barely holds back a whine in the back of his throat when Roach’s hips jerk upwards, bouncing him on his lap. There is no way in hell Izzy can come again right after an orgasm, but his eyes slip shut and he gets lost into it, lips parted, hands grasping Roach’s arm at an especially forceful thrust that makes him gasp. Roach blinks.
“Shit, sorry - want me to slow down?”
“Don’t you-- fucking dare,” Izzy pants, and the concerned look fades into that grin again.
“Oh, thank fuck,” Roach says, but he doesn’t get started right away. He puts down a few chips before he pours some more rum in a glass. “A drink?”
“... Yeah.”
He holds the glass up, and Izzy empties it in a couple of gulps. Roach raises both eyebrows, impressed, and puts the glass down before he rests his chin on top of Izzy’s head again. “So. Harder than before?”
“If you’re not a fucking coward.”
“Oooh, is that a challenge? I can go hard, ya know.”
“Well, I can take harder.”
“... You two done with the foreplay?” Frenchie calls out, and there’s a collective chuckle around the table; even Izzy’s lips curl. The lipstick is still holding on somehow, and Lucius - who’s playing his best hand yet - keeps thinking that he’ll smudge it off the second he gets a chance.
Roach wastes no more time to show he’s definitely done with foreplay. He thrusts hard and fast, almost curled around Izzy’s smaller frame, and soon enough they have to pause the game because he’s got both arms around him, keeping him still while he fucks the soul out of him. Out of everyone so far, he gets the most noises out of Izzy, loud and unabashed even though his spent cock stays limp. Somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, even Ned Low can probably hear this music.
There is a groan, a violent jerk, and Roach is done, too. He lets out a small whooping sound before he leans his arms against the table, Izzy’s head still tucked under his chin. “Shit, that was good. You feel real good,” he slurs a bit, and Izzy mumbles something no one but Roach can hear. It makes him chuckle before he lifts his head, and clears his throat.
“Sorry, guys. So, whose turn is it again?”
Lucius smiles. “Oh, it’s mine,” he says, and drops his cards. “I call,” he says, and it’s Pete’s turn to make a whooping sound.
“Great job, babe!”
“Thanks, love,” Lucius kisses his cheek before he turns again. Izzy is looking back at him, still on Roach’s lap, breathing harshly. Their gazes meet, and Lucius’ smile widens.
“Been a proper little seductress, have we?” he says. He doesn’t really expect Izzy to remember, but he clearly does, because his lips curl in a sneer. Well, a weak attempt at one. Lucius really hopes he can get his facial muscles back in working order real fast, because he plans to make him use that mouth extensively right about now.
“Been waiting for this, haven’t you, Twatty?”
“Oh, you can say that again.” Lucius pushes the chair back from the table, undoing his trousers and jerking his chin towards the floor.
"Twatty."
"Not that , the other thing you-- ugh." He makes a face, the commanding tone he was trying to convey sort of ruined. "Get over here," is all he mutters in the end.
Izzy says nothing else, thankfully. He gets off Roach’s lap on his own, like he has something to prove, but his legs… well, leg, is shaky and he almost falls despite leaning on the chair. Several hands reach out to steady him, though, and help him to Lucius’ side of the table. Pete is the last one to reach for Izzy’s arm, and helps him kneel in front of Lucius’ chair.
“You good?” Pete asks, and Izzy nods. It makes him chuckle. “Course you are. Lucky you,” he adds with a look at Lucius’ dick, a longing note in his voice like they didn’t spend a great part of the past twenty-four hours celebrating their engagement with some mind blowing sex.
Izzy doesn’t answer, but he does lick his lips and looks up. Their gaze meet and Lucius reaches down, grabs his hair, and jerks his head back. He has a split second to worry that he might have just gone a step too far, but Izzy moans and he breathes out in relief. Okay, yeah, he’s really into this kind of thing. Of course he is. Good.
“That's all you got, Twatty?” Izzy rasps, and oh God he’s a little too into it. He reaches up with the gloved hand - why is the glove the only thing he’s still wearing now? - and grabs the unbuckled belt hanging from Lucius' trousers. “I'm sure you can do better.”
Ah.
Lucius opens his mouth, closes it, then sets his jaw and pulls the belt off entirely. Izzy tilts back his head, and… and…
Later, he'll think it felt like a dream. It really does: his hands seem to move of their own accord as he puts the belt around Izzy's neck and buckles it up, tight but not so much he cannot breathe. He's still holding the other end, like… well. Like a leash.
“Well, shit,” he hears Roach mutter. “I should have thought of that.”
Lucius, who’d have never thought of that on his own, swallows and gives the belt a tentative tug. It barely makes Izzy’s head jerk, and he looks back up. “Like you mean it.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Lucius replies, more than a little defensive because oh God, he is growing harder just holding the leash-- the belt-- and because he knows he has it in him to hurt. It never happens with Pete, he could never, but it's rising its head now and it's both terrifying and arousing as all hell.
And something must show, because Izzy’s lips twitch a moment before he replies, very quietly. “I know,” he says, and there’s an odd reassurance to those words, that he knows what he can do and he’s not flinching back. Lucius breathes out, nods, and tugs the belt again, just a little harder.
It gets Izzy to finally lower his head and oh Jesus Christ he’s good at this. He didn’t even bother licking the shaft or sucking the tip or anything a fucking normal human being usually does first: he just goes all in and deep throats him like he’s been deep throating him since the day he first set foot on the Revenge.
“What the fuck,” Lucius blurts and oh, he can feel Izzy smile around him, the bastard. This time, tugging the belt to hold him down on his cock comes easier. He gets a noise out of Izzy, but he doesn’t try to pull back. Lucius swallows, and plays his turn before he relents and lets the belt slacken, so that Izzy can pull back. He does, grasping for breath, and oh yes, this is exactly how Lucius wanted to smudge that lipstick. Izzy looks up at him briefly, face flushed beneath the hopelessly ruined make-up. He licks his lips, and leans forward again to take him back in his mouth.
It’s good, one of the best he’s ever had - the strokes of the tongue, the way he hollows his cheeks, how easily he can take all of him. It would drive Lucius half mad, if not for the fact he’s using up all his willpower to focus on the game, too. He got his first win, now he needs two more… because whoever gets to three wins first gets to fuck Izzy on the table, and he really wants it to be him.
Because of reasons.
And well, he’s not into ladies, but Lady Luck is on his side right now and he has no complaints about that. The hand is good, he plays well, and the pleasure building up in his groin is the cherry on top. And then he’s got it, victory in his grasp.
“I call,” Lucius gasps, and lets go of the belt to grasp Izzy’s hair, pulling him down on his cock as he arches his hips and yes, God, this is perfect. He comes with a groan and Izzy doesn’t so much try to pull back, he takes him and takes it and when Lucius’ hand slips from his hair to rest on the back of his neck, he keeps sucking him through it, to the last shudder, to the last drop.
Lucius lets out a small, shaky laugh, leaning back. “Well, no way I can have another go right now,” he mutters, and turns to Pete. “Want to do it, babe?” he offers. Pete is as terrible at poker as he’s great in bed, and despite all his enthusiasm for the game, Lucius has yet to see him win a single hand. It seems only fair, giving him a chance.
“Thanks, love.” Pete grins, and looks down at Izzy. “... I mean, unless you want a break. Or more of Lucius. I’d want more of Lucius if I were you, so you know, if you don’t want me to take his turn I understa--”
“Shut your fucking mouth and help me up. Your boyfriend’s dick is limp as his wrist, anyway.”
“Fiancé,” Lucius corrects him.
“Ah, right. Congratulations,” Izzy mutters, and Pete does help him up and onto his lap, but this time he’s not facing the table. He lets Izzy lean his chin over his shoulder and looks over at the others. “Uh, who’s got the…?”
The bottle of oil Roach fetched from the kitchen is slid across the table. Pete fumbles a little with his belt, then oils his hand before pulling out his dick and pressing it flush against Izzy’s, tight into the grip of his hand. It makes Izzy groan through clenched teeth, eyes half-lidded and gaze fixed on the ocean, hands gripping the back of the chair.
“You good? Get moving if you’re-- whoa! Yeah, you’re good,” Pete gives startled, breathless laugh when Izzy does get moving, thrusting into his fist with small, desperate jerks of his hips. Then Pete tightens his grip, or at least Lucius guesses as much, because it’s kind of his signature move and Izzy gives a whine in the back of his throat.
He’s still moving though, and Pete doesn’t have to really move himself. He only sits back, holding both dicks in the oiled hand. His other hand goes to rest on Izzy’s side, the one without the leg, because of course balance is a little fucked when you’re straddling someone and missing most of one leg.
“You guys mind if I sit this one out? Got my hands full,” he mutters. Lucius sort of expects someone to pipe in with a dumb joke like pointing out that he sure has his hands full of Hands, and he also expects that someone to be Frenchie. But he doesn’t say anything, and when Lucius looks up he seems… concerned. He’s sitting right across the table from him and Pete, staring at Izzy’s back like he’s seeing something for the first time and that something is not a particularly nice sight.
… Actually, now that he pays attention, Wee John and Roach are looking too; busy as he is shuffling the cards, Fang is the only one who’s not staring. But staring at what, exactly? Lucius leans a little forward, pretending to reach for the bottle, and turns to take a quick look at Izzy’s back.
And there they are - scars, a lot of them, old and crisscrossing his entire back. They would be hard to spot in dim light, or with Izzy’s back against the chest of whoever was fucking him at the moment, but right now the oil lamp in the middle of the table is shining its full light on his back and they’re perfectly visible.
So are the muscles on his back as he keeps moving without even realizing he’s being stared at, really, but they’re not enough to distract Lucius from the scars. He is no expert by any stretch of the imagination, but flogging scars are not difficult to figure out. Someone did a number on his back, at least once. Blackbeard, maybe? No, that… really is not his style, even at his worst. Maybe another captain he’d sailed under, or…
“... Guys?” Pete is calling out, as unaware as Izzy is. “I said, you all right if I-- oh, that was good-- sit this one out?”
Frenchie clears his throat. “Oh, yeah. No problem. Fang, you dealing or not?” he says, and that is that. The game resumes and it goes pretty shit for Lucius because to be honest, he can’t properly focus after seeing that.
Well, Pete and Izzy groaning right next to his left ear is not helping matters a lot, either. It doesn’t last too long: he hears the small, gasping noise Pete usually makes when he comes, and Izzy stills, panting. Moments later, Wee John puts down his cards.
“I call, mortals,” he declares in his best Calypso voice, and Lucius could swear he heard Izzy chuckle.
He calls and he wins, sure enough. It takes him a few moments to get ready - no trousers to unlace, he’s got to hike up the dress - and he spares a few moments to oil himself, even if Izzy has got to be as slick and open as he’s ever gonna get. Then he pushes the chair back some, leans against the backrest, and gestures for Pete to pass Izzy over. He lifts him over his lap almost ridiculously easily, back against his chest, but doesn’t put him down right away. The first thing he does is get the belt off his neck, letting it fall on the floor.
“Are you ready, mortal?”
Izzy groans, skin glossy with sweat and actually half-hard again. “Yes, yes, get on with-- what the fuck,” he gasps, suddenly, eyes widening and jaw going slack. “Where were you-- keeping-- that ?”
“A goddess can keep secrets,” Wee John replies with a grin, but keeps lowering Izzy very, very slowly. There are more noises, a startled moan, but none of it is pained and soon enough he’s settled on Wee John’s lap. And, by the time he does, he’s fully hard again.
All right, Lucius thinks, now he’s spread as open as he’s ever gonna get.
“What the fuck,” Izzy repeats, breathless, and Frenchie raises an eyebrow.
“Didn’t say that of mine, mate.”
“Or mine,” Roach comments.
“Now we’re going to feel bad about our sizes,” Frenchie adds.
“I think you’re pretty big yourselves,” Fang says, thoughtful as always. Frenchie pats his shoulder.
“Thanks, mate.”
“Yeah, nice to see someone can pay a guy a compliment here.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Izzy snorts, and he seems about to add something, but Wee John’s hands are on his shoulders and he’s pushing him forward. He blinks. “What…?”
“Hush. Lean on the table.”
A shaky exhale of breath and he does, leaning his elbows on the table. Wee John doesn’t move, but oils his hands before he moves them down his back then up again, fingers tracing some of the scars. He says nothing, but he doesn’t have to. Another breath, and Izzy tenses up. He turns his head, scowling at the mast like he can see something there that they can’t.
“... It was a long time ago. I fucking hope you’re not expecting me to start crying on your lap over it and tell you a sob story, because I sure as fu--” Izzy’s words fade into a groan when Wee John’s hands squeeze around his shoulders, thumbs digging into the muscles of his upper back. A hiss of discomfort follows, but Izzy doesn’t flinch away or tell him to stop, so he doesn’t.
“You’re awfully tense, dear,” he comments, running a thumb down the back of Izzy’s neck and then all the way down his spine to his lower back. It makes him arch a little with another groan - hard to tell if said groan is over the dick shifting in him or the touch on his back - and Wee John’s hands go back up to rub his shoulders. “Been a while since someone treated you to something nice, hasn't it?”
Fang lifts his glass, a little sheepish. “I tried once. Broke one of his ribs, though, and he told me he’d cut my fingers off if I tried again. But I’m sure he was just saying that. Right, Izzy?”
The only response he gets is a weak and somewhat nasal groan, because Izzy is apparently in the process of turning into putty against the table while Wee John, still balls deep in him, proceeds to work through knots in muscles he probably didn’t even know he even had. So Lucius replies in his stead.
“I’m sure you did your best,” he says, dealing the cards. “You playing this hand with us, Goddess?”
“Quite busy at the moment,” the goddess in question replies. “Do go ahead without me, mortals.”
They do, and this time it’s a long one, because no one seems to quite manage to win out. They’re still playing when Wee John ends the massage, places a kiss between Izzy’s shoulder blades, and grips his hips to move him over his lap.
That sure turns the groans of relief into full-on moaning, even while Izzy remains limp against the table. He’s nearly sobbing by the time Wee John stills and finishes with a quiet grunt, then runs his hands over Izzy’s shuddering back again before pulling him up, slipping out of him.
“There. It’s all right,” he murmurs over Izzy’s soft whimper, just as Fang puts down his cards, calls, and claims victory.
That also means getting to claim Izzy again, but he’s clearly not ready to get it up again. He still pulls Izzy on his lap, flushed and sweaty and barely coherent, and strokes him into another shuddering orgasm while playing his next hand.
“You good, Iz?” he asks, getting a weak nod and a mumble as a reply.
“Stop fucking asking, can’t you tell…” he slurs, but there is no bite to his words. His eyes slip shut and he just leans against Fang, still catching his breath, limp as though boneless. When Roach wins his second hand, then Frenchie does, they do the same thing - hold him against them, idly grinding against his thighs at most, to let him take a much needed break.
… That, or they’re all aiming to win three rounds and are trying to save their energy to fuck him on the table as the winner gets to do. If that’s what they’re hoping for, Lucius thinks, though luck. Frenchie comes dangerously close to a third win, but close is not enough and finally Lucius gets to look up and smile.
“I call.”
The cards go down and well, it’s over and he’s won.
“Whoo! Amazing, babe!”
“Thank you, love.”
“Aw, I almost had it,” Frenchie mutters, and runs a hand through Izzy’s hair. “You still awake, Izzy?”
A grumble. “Don’t tell me Twatty won.”
“Afraid so. Hey, were you hoping for someone else?”
“Hoping for me, obviously,” Roach says with a grin.
“Bet he wanted more of Wee John.”
“It’s still Calypso to you, mortal.”
“Oh, apologies.”
There is some laughter, and the cards and chips are pushed aside on the table to make room for Izzy. He’s hoisted on it, back against the wooden boards, and looks up at Lucius with half-lidded eyes. His hair is disheveled, the make-up pretty much gone, and it really is one hell of a look on him. He’s soft, having come for the second time in the evening only a short time ago, but Lucius is very much hard again.
Still, as he unlaces his trousers, he meets Izzy’s gaze. “Okay, look. Real talk, if you don’t want--”
“Shut up and show me what you’ve got, Twatty.”
It’s a little annoying, really, what those words do to him when it’s Izzy specifically to utter them. Lucius is on him without thinking, kissing him hard, grasping Izzy’s wrists and pinning them above his head. It gets a noise against his mouth, a startled moan, and oh yes, now we’re talking. What little resistance he put up in his surprise gives way fast and he parts his lips, letting him in.
And with all the action he’s had tonight, it’s no surprise that his mouth is not the only part of him that lets Lucius in easily. He pushes in and Izzy lets out a low whine again his mouth; he feels his wrists tense and his hands clench on nothing, but he makes no effort to break free. A couple of thrusts and Lucius pulls back from his mouth, keeping his hands pinned, just so he can look down at him.
Israel Fucking Hands - ‘First Mate Hands, or God as far as you're concerned’ - is panting, eyes half-lidded and lips parted, trembling in dazed pleasure, a sweaty and raw little thing beneath him and around him. He cannot possibly get it up now, he cannot possibly come again, but it's still desperate for this.
To be honest, Lucius thinks, this is a kind of God he would have no trouble getting on his knees for. He breathes out, running a hand down Izzy’s heaving chest. “Want me to move?” he asks.
A groan, and Izzy’s only leg wraps around his waist. “No, I want you to stand there and look pretty,” he snaps. Lucius grins, leaning closer, still keeping his wrists pinned.
“You think I’m pretty?”
“Just fucking move .”
“And how do we ask that?”
“Fuck off . ”
“Try again,” he mutters, giving the smallest tilt of his hips. It gets a whine out of Izzy, and it builds to a near sob when Lucius gives one hard thrust before stilling again.
“Fuck me,” he gasps out. It’s better, much better, but…
“Close, but not quite.”
“I’m not-- going to beg, Twatty.”
Lucius leans in closer, voice just a whisper. “I don’t want you to beg,” he tells him. Actually he very much would like to hear him beg, but he’ll keep it for next time. “But that’s not how you should be calling me.”
A slow, teasing roll of his hips. Izzy whimpers, throwing back his head, and Lucius’ mouth latches on his throat, aching to give him at least a mark to remind him of this. He’s also aching to move, because this bastard is slick and hot around him, but he makes an effort to keep still. He hears Izzy draw in a shaky breath, feels the heartbeat, feels him swallow.
“How?” he rasps. Lucius smiles against his skin.
“You think you’re cute?” he murmurs. “Remember, Iggy ?”
A pause, then another intake of breath, a shaky exhale. Lucius pulls back just enough to see his face, to see that now he does remember. He’s hesitating, lips parted, eyes wide. Lucius says nothing: just burrows his face where Izzy’s shoulder meets his neck. He bites, hard enough to get a startled moan out of him, and tilts his hips at the same time.
“Oh--” a whimper, a shudder, and he turns to press his face against Lucius’ hair. His voice is barely a whisper, for no one’s ears but Lucius’. “Please, daddy.”
Oh, yes.
With a low growl, Lucius pulls his face away, adjusts his grip on Izzy’s wrists and finally allows himself to fuck him properly, hard and fast, making the heavy table slide a few inches across the floorboards with a scraping noise that barely covers Izzy’s moans. Soon enough his arms are tired and he lets go of Izzy’s wrists, lets himself lay over him, chest to chest, and oh he’s close, all too soon, heat building up in his groin and his steady rhythm starting to break.
“Holy shit,” he groans, hips stuttering. There are arms around him, Izzy’s nails digging into his back, pressing him closer, holding on tight.
“Daddy,” he groans against his ear and oh, damn him, that undoes Lucius so quickly it’s not even funny. He comes with a shuddering gasp, pressing deep inside, going limp on Izzy like all his bones have turned to jelly and honestly, it feels like they have.
Holy. Shit.
For what feels like a very long time but are probably just a few minutes he remains still, head pleasantly empty, ears full of nothing but his and Izzy’s thumping heartbeats. Until, suddenly, he hears a sniffle.
What the...?
Lucius pulls back, still panting, alarm cutting through the afterglow. Izzy’s face is wet, tears leaving tracks in what's left of the make-up, and it hits him like a punch.
“Wait, no-- shit-- did I go too far? Was it the bite? Did it hurt?” he blurts, only for Izzy to shake his head, blinking away tears, gaze still fixed on the sky.
“It's fine, right?” Fang is speaking up, and turns Izzy's face towards him so gently. "They're the good kind of tears, yes? You good, Iz?"
A sniffle, and he nods, making no move to get off the table. "Yeah," he rasps. "I'm good."
Oh, thank fuck. With a long sigh of relief, Lucius finds his feet again and tucks himself back in his trousers. Only then does he realize that the others seem to have been at work on filling the bathtub with water now that the alcohol has all been guzzled down, and that Pete is coming back on deck with towels and a bar of the captain’s very expensive soap.
"We went to get some towels and stuff while you were busy, babe," he says. “Hope you didn’t mind me not watching.”
“I got soup,” Roach adds, holding up a steaming bowl. “Left some for the captain, though. Passed by his cabin on the way and I’m pretty sure he’s busy, might need a pick me up later. You heard that?” he asks, turning to Frenchie, who’s carrying an armful of blankets and pillows. He shrugs.
“Sure did. Ed must have put the bell back on, ‘cause I heard it going like mad.”
The mental image makes Lucius chuckle, and that feels good, after so much time unable to feel anything but anger at the thought of anything concerning Ed.
Not moving on is worse, Izzy said, and maybe he was on to something.
Lucius grabs a bottle, takes a long swig, and watches on as Fang and Wee John get Izzy in the tub, giving him a good wash with the pricey soap. Izzy seems half asleep already, barely moving while they scrub and rinse every inch of him and then towel him dry. By the time they lift him out of the tub Frenchie is ready with the blanket; he’s wrapping it around Izzy just as a familiar voice rings out somewhere on Lucius’ right.
“Hey, guys. Looks like you had a bit of an all deck on hands kind of situation here. Could have called us up to help,” Archie says, taking the bottle from Lucius’ hand and giving it a swig. He hears Jim half-groan and half-chuckle, while Olu rather awkwardly rubs the back of his neck.
Lucius laughs. “I think you had plenty of action on your own below deck,” he mutters, and none of them tries to deny it, even if Olu is suddenly very interested in the few clouds around the moon. “Uh, the captain…?”
“Don’t think he’ll come out for a while. Heard the bell going like crazy,” Jim says, taking the bottle from Archie and taking a swig themself. They look on while Fang sits on the ground with Izzy leaning against his side. “... He’s all right, yeah?”
“Better than all right, I’d say,” Lucius shrugs. “Just, you know… we tired him out.”
“I see.”
“Want us to call you next time?” he asks, and Jim makes a face.
“Eh, I’ll pass,” they mutter, taking another swig before passing the bottle to Olu. “But if you’re having a sleepover on deck, we’re all for it.”
It definitely does look like they’re having a sleepover, with the blankets and pillows on the deck and several of the crew already leaning down. Fang is helping Izzy drink from the bowl of soup before he lets him lean down too, right in the middle of the pile, and puts another blanket on him for good measure. By the looks of it, Izzy is half asleep before his head touches the pillow.
“... Yeah, looks like the sleepover is on.”
He sidles up to Pete, and there are a few grumbles while pillows and blankets are snatched back and forth, but soon enough they’re all settled. Lucius yawns and turns a moment to take a look at Izzy, already asleep, nestled between Fang and Frenchie. He looks peaceful, forehead smooth. Lucius may have scored a few points, but it’s pretty clear who the real winner of the game really was, and he finds he doesn’t mind.
He doesn’t mind at all.
#our flag means death#ofmd#izzy hands#lucius spriggs#frenchie ofmd#fang ofmd#black pete#roach ofmd#wee john ofmd#izzy hands/lucius spriggs#izzy hands/frenchie#izzy hands/fang#izzy hands/roach#izzy hands/wee john#izzy hands/black pete
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Have had a couple of days and a rewatch and some mulling to put together my thoughts:
The good:
the writing - I've talked at length about the use of metaphor, symbolism, allegory and the like to add meat and substance to the narrative
the continuity tied in to S1 and the foreshadowing coming full circle, plus running themes continuing
the music is flawless throughout - both the soundtrack with songs and the original score and the way old motifs are used to add parallels and depth to scenes
the acting across the board has been staggeringly good. Especially for Taika, Rhys and Con. I can see why so many reviews had been raving about it.
the bits of set-up for S3 that have been planted if/when they get it
new characters who are an absolute delight
Family Trauma the TV show - intense to watch but cathartic af
Badass ladies and the soft boys who love them
Auntie.
The bad:
too much story and not enough time to tell it
sacrificing a lot of crew-related stuff - I know this is primarily the Ed and Stede story, but we're told that Olu was always talking about Zheng, but we never even got a single line of it. Buttons' disappearance gets one sus line. We gloss over the probation and why Ed is back in his leathers literally the next day. Again, I know, time constraints, but it does feel weaker for it.
speedrunning so much that it's taken several rewatches to catch everything that's going on - yes, it can work as a narrative device, but not all the time
still not over Zheng falling for Ricky's gift. Do not trust the aristocratic white dude, especially not when you've been blackmailing him. And I know there's some logical sense to her being so used to being able to manipulate desperate people on the fringes with both carrot and stick, but it feels like severe underestimation on her part about how ruthless and cruel and petty Ricky could be. He's not like the pirates - he has the power and privilege and it feels like she ignored that.
whatever that Teal Oranges pivot was so Jim could have a girlfriend, especially since they didn't have time/space to actually develop the Olu/Zheng and Jim/Archie stuff. Archie was barely a scrape of characterisation because of time constraints.
The ... Forbs Boding
Izzy - it falls under the typical archetype of Loss of a Role Model especially given all Ed's dad issues, which I thought we were beyond, but then it also fits with the running motif of the show of change, death and rebirth.
We've had confirmation of the existence of a place between life and death plus a character who was beaten to death coming back from it and a seawitch turning up at the grave.
I can see why it was done as it has been foreshadowed since "the only retirement we get is death" but after all his growth in S2, having Ricky be the one to get the jump on him is... hm.
I feel like they had him and Ricky talking and Ricky causing his death for a reason. Feels like there's set-up for S3 planted and ready.
My Forbs, they are A-Boding. ffs, they Obi-Wanned him right after he did a speech about "our spirit will last beyond your whole fucking empire". Strike me down and I will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine vibes.
The way trauma is/isn't being dealt with - I feel like there's stuff there that is set up for S3 as well, because we've seen how Stede is still bottling all his stuff and hasn't dealt with any of it, while Ed has done some processing and started to make peace with himself over it. Stede still has his mental lockbox and while he tries to pretend it isn't there, it still informs so many of his decisions.
All the Star Wars vibes - I've always been convinced this was the Empire Strikes Back season and now, they have all the pieces in play for the Return of the Jedi arc: Stede and Ed are together and recovering but will have a role to play, Izzy is in carbonite with a seawitch control panel, their allies are out there getting pieces in place, and the Imperial figurehead villain who showed up in S2 is still out there and convinced he holds all the power. And I just realised that this means that if they use Hornigold, he's the equivalent of Boba Fett - Bounty Hunter for the Empire XD
On the whole, I am content with it and am already having thoughts about the potential for S3, but I find it incredibly frustrating knowing how much more it could have been with the budget/time they wanted and didn't get.
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I've seen a lot of takes here that talk about how wrong it feels that Izzy was singing over Ed and Stede's love scene, how creepy it was that he came in while they were having breakfast in bed, etc. But I just don't think it was that deep. DJ takes advantage of the talents his actors bring to the table. Izzy sang La Vie En Rose because Con's a singer with a musical theater background. Frenchie sings and plays guitar because Joel Fry sings and plays guitar. Wee John dresses up in drag because Kristian was a drag queen.
But if we want to look at it purely from the point of view of the characters, Stede and Ed both seemed taken with Izzy's singing before Ned Low attacked, and surely they could hear him singing on the deck above Stede's quarters when they were making out, and it didn't seem to faze them in the least. I'll concede that Stede wasn't too happy about Izzy's arrival the next morning, but I don't think Izzy did it out of any malice. Ed seemed particularly nonchalant in his "fuck off" to Izzy, there was no heat behind it and he sounded almost bored saying it, and his comment of "he's jealous" seems to be more in jest than anything.
Is Izzy a nosy bastard? Sure. But he's always been a nosy bastard as a first mate. Ed is completely unsurprised that Izzy saw him throwing away his leathers. And I don't think Izzy was rubbing salt in Stede's proverbial wound with "I know what happened, Edward left you." I think he was genuinely trying to reach out and help Stede. He stays with him in Jackie's for a while after they chat, and Stede even gives him a small smile after Izzy says "[Ed's] a complicated man."
I think that we can recognize that Izzy has Issues with a capital I, and also recognize that not everything he does (especially after Ed shot him) is because he's angry and resentful and trying to "get back" at Stede. He does sincerely try to thank Stede for rescuing him at the end of episode 3, and he provides encouragement and advice to Stede in episode 5. He's trying to be better.
Ultimately this is a romcom, after all, and while it does tackle weighty issues, and it doesn't shy away from drama and heartwrenching moments, I just don't think the writers put all that much thought into Izzy's motivations. He's a walking plot device. He sang because the writers thought it would be cool to have him sing, and he walked in on Stede and Ed because the writers thought it would be funny for him to do that. Sometimes it's just not that deep.
#174.
related posts: #160, #155, #136
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Ed and drowning imagery
(I’m sorry if this is awkwardly worded. I am not, as you might have guessed, a native speaker of English, and languages are definitely not my forte)
I'm fascinated by the drowning imagery associated with Ed. It's not omnipresent, they don't hit you on the head with it, but it's there nonetheless (or at least I think so).
It's also interesting that, as far as I can tell, this theme is pretty much unique to Ed.
People die in many different ways in OFMD: they get stabbed, they get skewered by their own sword, they burn alive, they get shot, they get a cannonball in the face, they get skinned alive on one memorable occasion (RIP French Captain, you will not be missed), and so on.
The only case I can think of of someone maybe drowning in a death that isn't caused (not directly) by Ed is Ned Low - Stede throws his own fiddle at him, hits him, he falls off the plank, and it's not really clear if it was the blow that killed Low or if he lost consciousness and drowned.
It's possible that some of the partygoers in S01E05 did, but because of the parallel with CJ's story about Ed torching a ship and how the people inside burned alive, I assume that they died in the fire.
Anyway. Ed.
We get the first reference to drowning in S01E04, when he tells Stede what being Blackbeard is like: “It's just fucking hard sometimes, you know? You ever feel trapped? Like you're just treading water? Waiting to drown?”
Then, the Kraken's awakening is heralded by Ed throwing Lucius overboard; Lucius falls into the ocean, and we can hear his terrorized screams and gasps as he tries desperately not to slip underwater.
If you want, you can consider both the shot of Stede's things being dumped into the ocean at Ed's behest and Ed pushing the cake toppers off the ship as two other examples of drowning-related imagery.
The most obvious example of this theme is Ed's coma dream while he's in the gravy basket; he is thrown by his vision of his old captain - the one who, presumably, taught him how to be a pirate - off a cliff and into the ocean, with a rock tied around his waist.
Then, we have Ed trying to sink the Revenge and drown everyone on board, including himself (and I assume that the crew members who are missing after the storm did, indeed, drown).
He regains consciousness as he's sinking deeper and deeper; he tries to free himself but in vain, and he's about to run out of breath when Stede appears.
The rope unties itself, freeing him, but it's interesting that Ed doesn't swim toward the surface, nor does Stede pull him out of the water.
Instead, suddenly, as he realizes that he isn't alone - that he is loved, despite all he's done, that Stede came back for him, that he's begging him not to die, that he’s vowing never to leave him again, that there's still hope, still a future - he finds that he can breathe underwater.
The last example so far is from the beginning of S01E07 when, early in the morning after his first night with Stede, after Stede’s first real kill, Ed bundles up his leathers - Blackbeard’s, and the Kraken’s - in a net, weights them down with a cannonball and drops them into the ocean.
He consigns his old skin, his identity as a pirate, to a watery grave, and wears in their stead Buttons’s old clothes, the clothes of a man who changed himself into a bird in order to be able to properly love his “ocean deep,” because there is a limit to the love he can share with the sea in his current form, like Ed thinks he can’t properly love Stede until he’s gotten rid of this weight pulling him down, of the poison he carries within himself (the atmosphere was poisoned, the soup was poisoned, and it was his actions that brought Ned Low to the Revenge), until he’s found his true form.
How wise this decision is remains to be seen. I know from the screenshots and gifs posted online of the season finale trailer (they don’t air the show where I live, so I couldn't watch the preview) that he’ll soon fish out his leathers again, but how permanent that will be is unclear. We know that he doesn’t want to be a pirate anymore, not like that - he has been trying to find a way to escape this life since before he met Stede - so drowning this symbol of a life he doesn’t want anymore seems understandable, and healthy, at least until he’s found how to wear that skin in a way that won’t hurt him or those around him.
I really don’t know what the point of this all is. I don’t even know if there is a point to begin with - maybe I’m just fixating on nothing - but if there is, I think that the key image of this series of scenes is that of Ed in the gravy basket breathing underwater.
The weight pulling him down is gone and he’s free, and yet he doesn’t have to make his way above the waves. He’s already safe where he is. He is home.
There is no struggle, no desperate rush to reach the surface. The ocean that used to be a threat, that was going to swallow him and devour him as soon as he got too exhausted to tread water and he eventually, inevitably, let go and slip beneath the waves, is now surrounding him, supporting him as he floats peacefully, effortlessly in front of the man he loves.
More than a transformation that has already taken place, it’s a promise.
It’ll take time, more than the season finale will allow him (but, hopefully, he’ll have another season to work on himself).
It’ll take patience, too, and for him to keep examining his own failings, to keep growing, to keep looking at himself - he still has a lot of fishing to do, and the sea monster is still there, maybe a bit less dangerous now that he’s learned to sit with himself and listen, and maybe the kraken is exhausted too, but he’s still lurking in the depths, still a beast - but if he manages to find that strength within himself, he won’t drown.
He won't drown.
He can change his shape, turn himself into an impossible creature, a merman, like Stede in his vision.
(and isn't this season's logo the image of two merman skeletons circling each other?)
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izzy's relationship w ivan and fang is so fucked up and I'd love it if one or both of them fuck him from time to time and it's. Complicated
bc izzy's NASTY, and also they've known him a while and him being their boss but also he hasn't ALWAYS been their boss?
like esp the idea of like. izzy who goes from a screaming match with ed that everybody hears
and lucius goes into fang's bunk and fang is sitting back smoking with. a visibly post-coital izzy asleep on his chest
and lucius just????? what??? POSSESSES u? to put your cock in that demon of a man? and how can i replicate your results!?
hhhh okay but just thinking about izzy having an absolute SCREAMING match with ed. it's late at night and stede and ed have been in high spirits all day chasing after this one ship that has TWICE not been where it was charted to be
and izzy has been infuriated because they're running low on supplies and they need to make land, and when he'd snapped this, stede had said he was just jealous that they were having fun without him
and izzy had. fucking exploded
just SCREAMING at stede on deck, stede just stood there staring at him as izzy goes off on this tirade about how stede makes everything about izzy being jealous, the only thing he's jealous of is sailors who serve under a competent captain
and ed goes, real quiet, "hey, iz. enough of that. a word?"
and he's been… better. the crew's all reunited now, and their relationship with ed is complicated, but they do TRUST him, kind of. izzy… they're used to izzy. he's better than he was
he treats them as actual crew now, not as prisoners, and while he's still izzy - sharp and nasty with a temper a mile wide, he's BETTER. if they say they don't know how to do something, maybe he'll dramatically sigh, but he does SHOW them
he schedules everything, he keeps everything moving, and yes, it's harder work than it was before, but they feel more like real pirates now
and just bc they don't LIKE him doesn't mean they're okay with whatever ed is about to do with him and it's late at night when izzy comes out of the captain's quarters and trudges down the corridor with his eyes wet, and doesn't even think about it, just knocks on fang and ivan's door and fang calls him in
and they've done this a bunch of times before. a lot of times, over the years, because izzy and ed have never actually touched each other, fang is pretty sure - they may as well be married, but they're not actually spouses
and izzy-- izzy is good in bed. he's VERY good in bed. he's fucked up and he's cold and he's prickly, and he doesn't always listen when fang tells him shit at work, he's a DICK, but when he's like this--
he doesn't even touch fang right away. doesn't come and ask for it. he picks up ivan's laundry and starts fucking folding it.
"you okay, boss?" asks fang quietly, shutting the door.
"i'm doing it this time," mutters izzy. "i'm gonna fucking go."
he always says that. sometimes he means it, but not tonight, fang doesn't think. he reaches out and puts his hand on izzy's shoulder and feels him go stiff, but he lets himself be pulled in. he shudders when he falls against fang's chest, just lingers there.
on land, with men, izzy likes to be thrown around, pinned down, treated hard and rough - fang doesn't do that, and izzy knows it. he knows he has to be softer, that he has to accept gentleness.
he still drops to his knees, and fang lets him, pets his hair.
and fang doesn't even fuck him tonight - he comes down his throat, and then he eases izzy back and fingers him open, and izzy hisses and complains, and every time he does, fang stops touching him until he fucking behaves, until he's SWEET again.
he comes, once fang gets him off, just lies there and sobs with his face buried in his arms until fang pulls him close again, so that izzy's sobbing into fang's chest instead, and izzy CLUTCHES at him until he's cried himself dry, then falls asleep.
and that's how lucius finds them, izzy's leathers folded at the bottom of the bed, izzy under the blanket and asleep on fang's belly, sprawled between his legs
he's very warm. it's nice.
"not now, sweetheart," whispers fang.
"is that-- is that IZZY?" hisses lucius, eyes wide, looking like christmas has come early. "did you fuck IZZY? how the fuck did you manage that? he's like-- isn't he just all teeth below the belt?"
just izzy tired and humiliated and growling "fuck off, spriggs," and knowing he probably WILL have to talk about it, and fang just says, "hey. you wanna stay?"
and izzy silently nods and goes back to sleep and DOES.
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How does Sheila and Gerald feel about Raven/Crimson Dawn
definitely not....Good things.
at least...
...not at first.
i mean, for one, isaac broflovski literally worships every beautiful cinnamon scented little breath raven makes out of that smirking, knee-jerking, puffed out, pierced up, pretty boy mouth of his and in turn, worships every mismatched sock worn, worn-out blood moon crimson dawn red doc marten-ador(n)ed step that his beloved raven of crimson dawn takes on planet earth. his world; we just live in it ofc.
according to raven superfan ike, who...should he hear so much as a *jingle* from the silver moon charms hanging from the back of said ravenstan signature doc martens or even the faintest little wind chime of emo boy earrings twinklin musically as another bitter breeze rolls by, ike will come a'running...in a pair of red doc martens.
...except his aren't broken in from nonstop marathon running and matrix dodging hoards of insane dawn spawn/tryin to get to taco bell in between sets ( even tho he knos he's not allowed to do that )
so, needless to say, ike is in...terrible foot pain.
but he is Also IN a brand new crimson dawn t-shirt.
signed by all the boys, and ofc, #baeven.
whose obnoxious, sharpied star-A signature can be seen from space.
care to comment, astrophysics major craig? he's interning @ nasa :)
anyways, that of course, was bad enough. because while ike is a free agent and basically able to do whatever he wants on account of his parent's obsession w/ helicopter parenting and suicide-watching kyle...wearin all black, sulking around and blaring satanic punk rock music at 3am on a school night...was def starting to tip the scales.
...but again, *sheila vc* boys will be boys, she had her own little rebellious streak back in jersey as swoww tittybang; it'd pass.
...however, it did Naught pass! and neither is super genius, giga iq ike because he started SKIPPING SCHOOL bc education systems are vegetation systems and institutions of oppression and depression.
and yet, cuttin class & saying fuck school was still not what grounded ike. not wearing all black, not blasting crimson dawn, not blowing off school or bleaching his hair...no, the straw that broke the camel's back, the thing that finally had good son ike overtake kyle for the first time in nearly 17 years and steal the title of bad son
...was when ike...STUCK A SAFETY PIN THRU HIS LIP.
SO HE COULD LOOK LIKE!!!!
RAVEN!
OF!
CRIMSON!
DAWN!!!!!!!!!!!!
oooooooooOOOOOOOF! and guess when ike did it?
right when kyle and stan walked through the broflovski front doors. and i bet you anything, ravenstan was in the LEAST pc outfit ever. best case scenario, he was in a crimson dawn shirt, a slightly less slutty pair of the signature raven tiny vegan leather hooker prostitute pants for nasty boys that need jesus and an open black puffer jacket...worst case scenario he was wearing...sigh
the support rock, fuck a rockstar tank top ;)...fml.
either way, he is def wearing a fishnet undershirt so you can see all his crazy tattoos, every obscene emo boy piercing is on his face, his nails are chipped/pitch black, his eyeliner in smudged, all his luggage is coffin shaped with 666 patched all over it and...his hair is BLUE.
so uh...not looking super kosher or ready for temple. HELPPPPP.
yeeeah, sheila is not super stoked on him, especially as she's mopping up ike's lip blood with a rag...oh my god, stan is So HORRIFIED. like not only am in my hometown which i haven't been to since i killed my sister and disappeared, i am also in my best friend's old house, speaking to my best friend's mom who doesn't know i'm her son's dead super best friend and just thinks i'm an obnoxious celebrity who ruined both her kids lives and HATES ME shdlkshds...i'm sorry, bb.
she does say "you know, sweetie, you really do have a beautiful voice and a Very handsome face. it's just a shame you've got schmutz all over your eyes and turned your head into a pin cushion! oy vey, what would ya mother say, young man?" *finger waggin, hand on hip*
ravenstan, half laughing half crying, "not much" :')
anyways, because of the mishap with the hotel rooms, all of the south parkian rm college students are putting up a member of cd or another...celebrity. ( fun fact, call girl is also coming xx more on that )
and jersey got super lucky and pulled raven's name out of his hat.
anyways, them living together and sleeping in the same room, the tension is so crazy especially since...
listen.
don't kill me.
but you know how i am. and the boys were too happy when they were secretly dating ( which is the arc right before this ) so uh...now they are Not dating...and also very unhappy. haha! fun! slay! <3
so uhhhh...spending that much time in close quarters! whew!
also, for context purposes, kyle, at this point, knows raven is his stan.
nOT THAT IT MATTERS BC KYLE IS MAD AT HIM!!!!!!!
but, that’s not important rn, what's important rn, is stan and kyle’s parents who...ya, starting with sheila, was not team raven when he showed up but...kyle's secret sweetness is also hers. and she did care a lot about stan when he was 'alive', so sheila does warm up to raven slowly but surely. mostly bc he is...ofc, an angel.
he stopped all his shows just so he could make ike's birthday the best ever and play at his winter formal in their nowhere town as like, one of the most famous people in the world currently. despite seeming like a bad influence, he actually is a very good influence on ike from that point forward, makes him refocus on his studies and says it is punk rock to learn and go to school ( it does make him very introspective about school since, bc he was, yknow, dead, he couldn't go to traditional school and it is the point of the plot where rae thinks a lot abt...going to school/wishing he could go to school )
ravenstan is also really polite to everyone and rizzes sheila in spanish a lot haha. he is not that good at doing chores as a disaster person, but he always offers to do the dishes and help sheila cook. mrs. broflovski calling jersey over like "look, bubbeleh! i put oreb in your special apron...since you never wear it >.>" ft. stan winking at kyle in the skull and cross bones standana in the blue star of david apron that matches his blue beautiful blue ass eyes and sticky-uppy, tousled hair with the fkn schmatta slung over his shoulder...
*jersey inner monologue* killmekillmeKILLMEKIIIIILLLLMEEE
btw, sheila's lil nickname for stan is raven in hebrew...she is also slowly teaching him hebrew...he's not that good at it but he's so cute.
also speaking of cooking n dinner — dinner specifically. i think they are having a special hannukah gathering/some kind of pre-bday dinner for ike & stan's really nervous...what's new…and he wants to impress the broflovskis and not look like an emo rockstar dirt bag,
so when dinner starts and everyone's sitting down, stan's running a little late and kyle rolls his eyes like, ofc, he's fucking late, that fucking asshole...but then stan has his little she's all that moment coming down the staircase all slow and shy and tentative...
...and he's wearing the ravesey hate suit, all pressed ( or idk he tried sheila taught him how to use the iron but stan x chores is a notp ) all buttoned up ( the tie is in knot tho, he does not know how to tie a tie ) his hair is a fluffy and brushed ( wow! stan showered! clap pls! ) NONE OF HIS PIERCINGS ARE IN, none of the like 9 earrings, no eyebrow piercing, none of the nose piercings, NOT EVEN THE LIP PIERCING, WOW, no eye makeup, and awkwardly shuffles into his seat across from kyle, adhd boy fiddling w/ the buttons on the sleeve of his dress shirt and is like "i'm sorry, i'm late!"
and everyone is just STARING AT HIM BC OH MY GOD, STANLEY MARSH AKA RAVEN LOOKS SOOOO GOOD, OH MY GOD!!!! and sheila ofc is like oH MY GOODNESS!! YOU LOOK SO HANDSOME OREV!!! EVERYONE DOESNT HE LOOK DARLING!!!! DONTCHA THINK HE LOOKS PERFECT, BUBBLA?! *stares at ky expectantly*
and he, does, ofc, as always, look perfect to kyle, but rem(inescent) of the ravesey hate, while stan does look put together, stan is meant to look like he's falling apart and messy and sloppy, bc that's his authentic self and that's how he's comfortable...and that's how kyle likes him, very much of course...i'd say love, but...he can't lmao! so kyle just says "yeah, maybe if his tie was tied right." >.> *eyeroll*
prompting a sheila eyeroll bc ffs kyle, stop being RUDE to our guest.
or as sheila calls him, their “chosuve gest" <3 or very important guest *sheila vc* oh, and you too, ike! ( smh its his birthday dinner :/ ) and kyle's mom is like "okay, sit down!! go eat!!! don't be shy!!!" gesturing to all this table of food and all the in laws, like both sets of grand parents, aunts, uncles, zayde and...bubbe?
am i gonna revive cleo?
...but interestingly enough, stan, who can eat enough for an entire super bowl stadium, both teams, audience members n staff included, is not eating so sheila is like *squints* "do you not like dinner, orev?"
and stan is like 'AhaHAHahAHHAha!!! no, no!!! it looks--wow! everything looks really delicious! i was just...admiring it! and this silverwear, it's really...w-wowza! the ingraving is very—“
then jersey cuts him off, harsh, deadpan like:
"ma, raven's...Vegan...remember?"
and sheila immediately pales like "oh! OH! i'm so sorry! we haven't had a vegetarian type here since s--"
ALMOST SAYS THE S WORD!!! which is FORBIDDEN IN THE BROFLOVSKI HOUSE!!! which is good, thank god, bc no one can find out raven is stan...and there's this picture on the wall behind sheila's head of stan and kyle on the night before stan disappeared in their sadie hawkins dance outfits, doing awkward prom poses AAA.
but sheila deflects hard like "here, honey! have some salad!" but i think the dressing is like, ceaser or something and stan still can't eat it oh my god and she's freaking out, trying to get up from the table to rapid fire cook something for stan and he's like "NONONONO!!! it's okay, i'm really not that hungry! it's fine, it's, uh--i can have these!" and takes an apple form the center of the apple — AND ITS THE GODDAMN CENTERPIECE OH MY GOD, so kyle is sniiiiickering.
but stan doesn't even have time to snicker back, bc they're all focused on stan not eating, so they're not noticing kyle just pushing all his stew and stuff around the plate, trying to artfully rearrange it so it looks like he's really digging in...everyone is fooled.
not stan tho...stan is really worried, staring hard and so kyle mouths "stop staring at me." glaring at him oh my god...drama. boooys :(((
they also keep accidentally playing footsie under the table, smh.
BUT I HAVEN'T TALKED ABOUT GERALD YET!!! and gerald is talking, talking shop, trying to get raven/cd to hire him as their personal lawyer because while gerald does not like raven at all, he has been sort of quiet and cordial because he's being sneaky/strategic and all he sees is dollar signs, business opportunities. he knows that raven is rich and that cd is like the biggest rock band in the world rn. so he wants a cut of those profits and so he's laying it on thick. he also never bothered to learn raven's name and thinks it's raymond.
sheila is piiiiissed like, gerald, no talking about work at the table! we have guests over, it's impolite! and it's ikey's birthday dinner >:(
in between that there's lots of dinner table talk, ZAYDE ASKS IF RAVESEY ARE DATING and kyle is like "no that's a stupid rumor from the internet. raven is actually dating..." *sips wine* "Call Girl."
thERE IS SO MUCH TENSION, OH MY GOD!!!!! sheila is bummed, she's team ravesey, ike is also bummed, he is also team ravesey, grandparents are equal parts bummed and relieved, but none more than gerald who is like "thank god, i was worried bc of all the rings and the fruity color of your hair, that you might be…Queer."
and stan is like aHhahaaha!!!! whew! pls pass the WINE
there's additional important talk about ike and college ( ike is a year younger than all his friends bc he's smart and skipped a grade ) they are discussing him being a doctor like he chose it. kyle, ofc, knows he wants to be a journalist so he's like "has anyone asked IKE what he wants?!" bc kyle has had a little too much wine at dinner omg, so he's just starting all kinds of problems, i'm screeeeeaaaaaming. it comes out that ike wants to be a journalist. it's a mess.
kyle and gerald start fighting with each other, also gerald has been slyly putting kyle down all night and belittling him to look big. nitpicking him, playing down his accomplishments, being a dick. basically insinuating that compared to stan who is a fucking rockstar with millions of dollars, kyle is basically a joke and kyle is just Taking It in a way that kyle neeeever does, but it's his dad, he feels 7 years old again and is shutting down, you can see his eyes dim
aND STAN EXPLOOOOOOOOOOODES!!!!! LUNGES OVER AND PUUUUNCHES, PACIFIST STAN PUUUUNCHES GERALD IN THE FACE, PUTS HIM AGAINST THE WALL FIST FULL OF HIS SHIRT IN HIS HANDS, ABSOLUTELY SEETHING. and he is like! fuck you, gerald! kyle is one million times the man you will ever be! he is kind and wonderful and hardworking and fucking BRILLIANT!!! he is the best person on earth and YOU ARE LUCKY TO CALL HIM A SON, YOU WASHED UP, MALE PATTERN BALDING PINCHE PENDEJO!!!
everyone is shocked!!! everyone is STUUUUUNNED!!!! oh my god!!!! no one more than kyle whose heart is beating so fast. but anyways, stan just tries to compose himself and straighten his suit out, like, mrs. broflovski dinner ( the centerpiece apple he ate ) was delicious, everyone i am so sorry and happy birthday ike. AND WALKS OUT
anyways, uh...i hope that answers your question.
-uncle nina, angst queen and incitor of VIOLENCE!!!
#WOOOOOORRRLDSTAAAAAAAR!!!#viva la revolución babey!#i am sorry this was poorly typed and crazy but do u see the vision also i am sorry abt the plot holes#i didn't want to give you too much at once#i love stan w the blue hair sm also fun fact he dyed it blue bc its yerseys favorite color...not knowing its bc its his eye color#stan and sheila bonding is so cute#she does tell him often that he reminds her of a boy she knew#kyles best friend from before the fire#and stan is like ahahaha whew#also the pronoun thing for stan is hard for her but she tries#for kyle which is nice#BUT YEAH THE BOYS ARE FIGHITNG BC NEWS DROPS THAT RAVEN OF CRIMSON DAWN IS DATING POP PRINCESS IT GIRL CALL GIRL#its a whole mess it happens a lil before the plane ride over#so kyle is not on speaking terms w stan at all#its a whole mess#SPEAKING OF MESSES but first speaking of cleaning up nicely HELLLLOOOO GENTLEMAN STAN I LOVE U QUE QUAPISIMO#is it hot in here or is it just THE FLAMES FROM HELL BC THATS WHAT THAT DINNER PARTY IS GOING UP IN#i cant believe stan HIT someone and it was GERALD#insanity...pls note kyle follows him out...do they make up#who knows...i hope they makeout tho smh
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Izzy Amnesia Fic Excerpt (Spoilers)
Since "show the excerpt" won by a wide margin, this is getting posted. But since a portion of you didn't want it, I'll put the actual excerpt under a "read more" banner.
Note: this is from about I'd say a third of the way into the fic? So this is definitely not guaranteeing an angsty ending. Just that there is going to be some Shit That Goes Down on the way. (Also, that there is a lead up to this. It doesn't just come out of nowhere.)
With that being said, I'm warning you now that this excerpt is going to end on an absolutely gut wrenching note. And yes, I am extremely pleased by that.
---
the blessing only comes with bitterness (all that you believe in can survive this one)
Title is from "December '04" by the Oh Hellos, one of the main songs on my playlists for this fic. (And yes, I made TWO playlists for this fic. I'm at 15k and it's still got at least a few thousand left and it spiralled. Whoops. At least I'm posting this excerpt, for better or worse.)
---
“I forgot how absolutely bitter and repressed you were. You can't handle the thought that someone else could turn Blackbeard's eye, or hell, your own,” Lucius says, furious tears in his eyes, and the words cut across Izzy's ribs like Hornigold’s whip. “How would you feel if I told you that you're married, now? And to someone that isn't Blackbeard? Doesn't that make you want to shrivel up into a tiny ball, the idea that someone loves you so much that they would vow their life to you, and that it isn't the man who created you? Doesn't that just terrify you to death?"
Izzy has his sword out, the sharp side of the blade against Lucius’ throat, but Lucius’ vicious smirk doesn't slip even a millimeter. He knows which nerves of Izzy's are the rawest. He knows what strings hurt the most to be plucked. He knows how to dig his claws into the softest parts of Izzy's heart that he thought long ago calloused over. He knows about parts of Izzy that he has never shared with anyone, even Edward himself.
(Pete has his own sword out, but it is held by his side as he glances frantically between them, clearly uneasy about letting his blade join the conversation.)
“Where is this man or woman you claim I decided to turn against my Captain to marry?”
Lucius and Pete exchange a glance and some acidic mix of insecurity and rage crunches Izzy's stomach. He's been struggling since he woke up, head in agony, and whoever this fucking spouse didn't care enough to help him, to ground him, to care for him when he was laid up with a fever and woke missing years of memory.
Izzy snarls. "They're clearly not here, so they must be a fucking coward. Better dead than alive if they can't even be relied upon to stay by my side when I have a fever, much less years of missing memories-"
“Don't you dare fucking talk about my husband like that,” Pete seethes, fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword.
A stone drops into Izzy's stomach. "Your husband? I thought we were talking about my witless spouse?”
“They're standing right in front of you, you impertinent jackass,” Lucius says, tone vicious as he pulls back the neckline of his tunic to yank out a wooden ring on a leather strap. His wooden finger jerks to the side to point at the wooden ring on Pete’s hand. “Surprise. You're stuck with us.”
Izzy has to be hallucinating. He must have gotten an infection. All of this must be the product of a fevered mind.
There is no way that the scribe who humiliated him in front of the crew and the guy he slapped the head of and called a “useless fucking fucker” a few days ago could possibly have decided to marry him.
All Izzy knows is violence and control. All he knows is Edward and the sea. He does not know softness and weakness and the sort of gormless sentiment that would let himself be tied to the idiot twins.
This can't be real. He's hallucinating, that's it.
Ed is still here. Stede Bonnet's ragtag group of idiots are going to fail at their attempt at a fuckery tomorrow and Ed is going to kill Stede Bonnet and this scribe and his boyfriend will be nothing but the guys who Izzy caught fucking in the storage hold and all of this will have been a horrible, terrible nightmare-
“You’re lying,” Izzy snaps. “You absolute-”
“Twats?” Lucius offers with a horrible, gut-wrenching, fond smirk, and if Izzy ever decided to marry this man, he’d be a fucking fool.
---
But also, because I can't leave you on such a downer, and because I'm nice, here's one of my favorite lines from later in the fic when things are on the upswing:
Lucius Spriggs is a rotten bastard, an absolute bitch, and also one of the kindest people Izzy has ever met.
#fanfic#aletterinthenameofsanity#izzy hands#lucius spriggs#black pete#amnesia fic#ao3#my fics#excerpt#lucius x izzy x pete#lucius x izzy#sprizzy#lupeteizzy
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