1 - 20 of 26 Works in Fics that made me call Stede-PS
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“I just— You don’t need to know all of that. It’s— It’s nothing th—”
“It’s part of you,” Ed says, framed by the bright sky above. It’s so warm, all this light; Stede tries to focus, to ground himself in it, attempting to release the dark forest in his memory. “It’s not nothing.”
There’s nobody else here. Everyone else has given them space, a bubble to exist in together up on deck while Stede comes back to himself, and he’s grateful for it. He’s even more grateful that he doesn’t have an audience when he asks Ed, knowing he’ll tell him anything he asks for, “What do you want to know?”
And Ed, of course, answers, “Everything.”
for ofmd fluffvember, day twenty: comfort/reassurance.
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i love everything (don"t it make you feel sad?) by ShowMeAHero
Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)
27 Oct 2023
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Stede’s littered in marks. The slight textures that Ed has felt while they’ve fucked are clarifying themselves in front of him, in the forms of whip scars, healing burns, knife wounds, raised patches and the occasional stitches and an assortment of discolorations and marks and blemishes. When Ed turns him, a slight rotation, he sees his back lashed in stripes; there aren’t many, but the ones he has are thin and raised, whip-thin white scars in obvious flay-strikes across the sunbathed skin.
“Shit,” Ed breathes, and Stede moves to grab the robe again, his expression tightening. With a hand on his wrist, Ed stops him. “No, I’m— I’m sorry, I just— Stede. Some— Someone hurt you, who— Who the fuck hurt you?”
It’s the most pressing thought that comes into his mind, and then it’s consuming him, all he can think about, swallowing him whole.
for ofmd whumptober, day twenty-seven: matches, scars, "let me see."
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Lucius breathes, “Oh, God,” next to him, and Ed’s blood runs cold, ice in his veins, before he even turns to look.
People are all heading in one direction; most of them are straggling now, the show they’re heading towards already having begun, but the haphazardly-scrawled sign— accompanied with a rough sketch of Stede— advertises tonight’s main event for all to sea.
“What’s it say?” Wee John asks. “Is it bad?”
“That’s the Captain,” Jim says. “It says ‘torture show’ above it, right there. Pointing down the path.”
The crew goes silent. Ed’s motionless for only a moment.
for ofmd whumptober, day six: made to watch and "it should have been me."
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“Stede,” Ed breathes from above, barely audible for a moment. His next call of, “Stede!” is louder, and then he’s starting to shove himself down through the hole.
Next to Stede, all the debris starts to move again, a dreadful groan as it leans forward over Stede’s head. He shrieks without meaning to, a wordless scream, both from the increased pain of the wood on his body and from the terror of seeing it fall forward onto his head.
“No, no, stop!” Stede panics upwards. “Ed, stop, it’s going to collapse on me— Ed, please!”
for ofmd whumptober, day five: debris, pinned down, "it"s broken."
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With another deep breath, Stede strokes his thumb along Ed’s hairline. He frowns a bit himself at the warm flush of his skin, a higher temperature than normal.
His voice held soft, he says, “Good morning, love.”
Ed groans, tilting his face back into Stede’s belly, curling up tighter around him.
“How are you feeling?” Stede asks him.
Ed grunts into his stomach.
“I thought maybe you might be,” Stede comments. He keeps threading his fingers through Ed’s hair, smooth, slow, steady. “You should go back to sleep. Let me make you some tea or something for when you wake up again, how does that sound, Ed, darling?”
Ed lifts his head, blearily meeting Stede’s eyes for only a brief moment before he’s scrambling towards the edge of the bed and retching over the side onto the floor.
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“Ed— Edward—”
“Don’t,” Ed stops him, firm, shaking, but Stede makes him meet his eyes, locked into him, their foreheads pressed together. “Stede—”
“I’m not… not saying goodbye,” Stede tells him, though it sounds like it takes everything in him to get the words up and out of his lungs. “I’m— Ed, I don’t… I don’t want…”
He sucks in a breath, ragged, and his pupils unfocus for a long moment before he blinks and his eyes meet Ed’s again. Ed’s nails dig into his chest, into his belly, into the hole made of his insides, but Stede doesn’t seem to be responding to that pain anymore, or at least not acknowledging it.
“I can’t die,” Stede whispers to him. His voice is low, raw, so quiet Ed has to drop in even closer to hear it better. “I can’t… Until we’re… married, Ed, I can’t.”
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And then, he’s waking up on the floor of his cell once again, Lucius’ face above him in the darkness he’s spent four days adjusting to.
“Oh, thank fuck,” Lucius breathes, sounding halfway to crying. Stede misses Lucius’ good humor; these four days have taken so much from them. “Sh— Fuck. He’s awake, Izzy, thank— fuck, he’s not dead.”
There’s a scrape, then, before Izzy takes Lucius’ place, just above Stede’s head.
“I fucking told you not to have the Captain’s baby in here,” is the first thing Izzy says, and Stede’s heart lurches into his bruised throat, blood running cold like ice through his veins.
“I’m not,” Stede argues, though it’s weak; he already knows the truth.
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Ed is reunited with a tortured Stede in a cell. Things aren’t going well.
Inspired by art by Feriowind
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Stede arrived back on the Revenge hoping to make amends but Ed wasn"t interested, deciding to leave him at the mercy of his crew. But just how far will he let them go to punish the man who broke his heart?
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Stede is captured just three months after Ed, the Kraken, turns him away.
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Blackbeard had definitely not spent a lot of time thinking about his reunion with Stede Bonnet.
He most definitely had not.
However, if he had, which he didn’t, he would have not envisioned this.
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what can a man do, when confronted with his love strung out to die, his stuttering breaths stolen from his throat by the cackling roar of the ocean waves? how"s ed meant to react, to his only life being stripped away?
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i’m sorry to be so full of raining by Bibliotheksbewohnerin
Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)
23 Dec 2022
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“I think I need to sit down,” Stede said as his vision began to blur and tilt, darkness creeping in from the corners.
“Why? What’s going on, Stede?” Ed sounded concerned, and looked the part, too.
Strange. Stede didn’t think that was necessary.
The darkness met him before he could feel himself impact on the deck.
***
Stede and the rest of the crew have been back on the Revenge since a few months now, but Ed and Stede have not quite found their way back towards each other yet. They"ve agreed to give themselves space to figure things out - despite longing for the touch of the other - when Stede catches a nasty cold after a storm and promptly faints on deck.
Ed nurses a reluctant Stede back to health, they talk it through, lots of caring and fluff, with a sprinkling of angst.
Don"t mind the "plot", this is really just a vessel for me to have Ed be extra soft and caring towards Stede and talking some sense into him while he"s at it. -
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Stede didn’t wear many fancy fabrics anymore. Not like he used to. Aside from some rather spontaneous nights with Ed and Wee John’s requests for a few silks last week, Stede hadn’t been inside the closet for himself in months. He looked down at the loose shirt on his body. The neck was stitched together with a silk sea blue ribbon, giving his outfit a pop color. A small hint of the Gentleman Pirate.
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Stede has a *bit* of a breakdown trying to pick out an outfit for his first formal date back on The Revenge. -
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"It was when things got better that Stede really felt the loss, the day Ed kissed his cheek in the morning and instead of concentrating on the warmth of his lips he watched the empty walls behind him and a slight discomfort settled in his chest and remained for the rest of the day and the days that followed, only increasing as time went on."
Or, Stede becomes aware that his old books will never come back.
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When Stede Bonnet was carefully carved out of bits of the finest enchanted Brazilian cherry wood, he allowed Geppetto to put on a show with him, dress him up and parade him about a bit, dangling from bits of string and lace, tottering about the world in a perverse imitation of a real boy. And when that stupid fucking cricket that lived in the walls of his Barbados estate whispered to him and told him to behave, to smile through his pathetic (pathetic) puppet life, what did Stede Bonnet do? Why, he took a hammer and smashed the fuck out of that cricket. Cricket annihilated. Bonnet out.
The story hasn’t ended though. It’s time for him to be swallowed by that great sea-beast, only to be spit out into a new life with the only person who can break the spell. The first problem now is that the only one who can allow him to feel a real human heartbeat thudding in his no-longer wooden chest is more likely to stop that beating forever. The second problem is that for the first time in his life, he knows exactly what he is.
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For ten years, Mary Allamby Bonnet has barely given any thought to her "late" husband Stede. She"s been far too busy enjoying her life as his wealthy widow. Until the night that Stede appears at her door, badly wounded, in the arms of the most feared pirate in history.
Until that moment Mary had never truly believed the Wanted posters that claimed Stede as a "known associate" of Blackbeard"s. Yet here he is, in her home, less the legendary pirate captain than simply Stede"s Ed, a man terrified of losing the love of his life. He won"t, though. Not if Mary has anything to say about it.
Or, Mary and Ed nurse Stede back to health and in doing so form a friendship.
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“You don’t have to do this,” Stede chokes out, half-muffled, face still concealed, his words muffled by the press of his mouth to his forearm.
“Do what?” Ed asks him.
“Be in here with me,” Stede tells him. The space is small; Ed only needs to take two steps before he’s next to him. Standing over him feels wrong, somehow, but Stede’s not moving, and he doesn’t want to piss him off or upset him. “I’ll be fine in a minute. I just needed to— to take a moment. I’m fine.”
Every word that chokes up out of him is tight and strained and pained-sounding. His breath hitches again, and he shakes his head, seemingly at nothing, before his arms clench tighter and he squeezes himself closer.
Just looking at him like this has something thick expanding in Ed’s throat. He can’t keep looming over him like this, and he can’t leave him here to suffer whatever’s going on alone, so. He takes a seat beside him, folding himself up so he can sit on the floor in the space just next to Stede, one shoulder pressed into the wall, the other nearly brushing Stede’s.
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If this man lives— which Ed has no intention of allowing to happen— he could start a whole fresh horror story, could tour the seas telling this brand-new tale about Blackbeard’s specific brand of savage violence. This time, it would even be entirely fucking true.
This time, it won’t be Izzy that kills a man for him, or the flames of a fire, or the blow of a fall. It won’t be committed from a distance, and it won’t be an experience-twice-removed, and it won’t be outsourced to somebody else. It won’t be an accident; it won’t be a legend; it won’t be a mistake, or an exaggeration, or just another myth that sailors tell each other for scares late at night.
It won’t be a technicality that kills the man that killed Stede Bonnet. It’ll be Ed.
or: ed and stede are ambushed, and ed thinks he sees stede die. he doesn"t, of course, but ed doesn"t know that.
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Stede had been cataloguing all of the books that their newest raid had to offer, expecting it to be Edward when a British Naval officer walked in.
Finding him passed out and covered in blood, Ed makes sure to take care of Stede without showing how worried he had become. One fatal flaw though, Stede noticed.
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the usual of im bad at summaries, pls jut trust me that this is going to be worth your time <3