Hymn's Fic: Our Flag Means Death Collection
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“You made your choice,” Edward insists. “You don’t get to unmake it, Stede. What’s done is done, don’t you know?”
“Ah. I learned that lesson rather recently, yes,” Stede says, very softly.
The expression on his face isn’t fair, Ed thinks. It hurts to look at, all soft and yearning and difficult to resist. The kind of look that makes him angry because of how it also makes him weak. Ed clears his throat, twitches again. Locks his knees tight and clamps his jaw shut, glaring at Stede. The ship keeps sinking beneath them.
“What I also learned,” Stede murmurs, shifting his weight forward. His empty hand comes up, palm open and reaching. “Is that I can be brave. I can be stubborn. I can fight for the life that I want so very, very badly, Edward Teach.”
Ed’s mouth dries. “Y-yeah? And what’s that?”
Stede smiles crookedly. “You.”
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Stede drags in a breath; it hurts, but Stede is no stranger to that. How many years has he forced his lungs to inflate, to expand, to keep working even when there seemed no point, no joy in it to be found? Too many. He drags in another breath and another, and the world hasn’t stopped tilting, falling, plummeting away beneath his feet, and the sun and wind and the crash of the sea are whispering to him, asking what have you done? you’ve ruined it, ruined him, all of it is broken and lost and you are the fool who threw it away. too late, too late, what have you done, what have you done, what-
What will Stede Bonnet do next?
That is the better question, he thinks.
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“So like. Can I talk about emotions now, or are you still trying to do that repressed, macho man thing and act like leather and grease on your face is an actual coping mechanism?”
Ed flings his knife into the door of the auxiliary closet where Lucius hides.
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“C-careful,” Ed gets out. “Open ended offers are- are dangerous, Stede.”
Stede pulls back to gaze down at Edward; he’s flushed and dark-eyed, but he says “Yes. I quite stand by it, however. You are a risk absolutely worth taking, Edward Teach,” in that stubborn way of his.
“Fuck,” Ed breathes.
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Finally, he looks at Edward.
Stede’s pupils are blown, eyes all dark and hungry. He licks his upper lip nervously. Ed can see the frantic pop of his pulse; can see the clench and flex of his jaw, like he’s struggling. But not in a bad way. No, not in a bad way at all, Edward decides, watching as Stede tugs a little more on the ropes. How his breath stutters, then leaves him in a shuddery exhale.
“Hm. That’s not a bad look on you, Stede,” Edward murmurs.
“I admit,” Stede gulps. “I was not prepared for being so- so affected by this.”
Ed grins, showing all his teeth. “Good.”
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be still my foolish heart, don’t ruin this on me by Hymn
Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)
14 Apr 2022
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“I should have run away with you,” Stede says once, the two of them up in the crow’s nest sharing breakfast.
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“Yeah,” Ed agrees, leaning in, breathing deep. “Yeah, you’re good. You’re fine.”
“Mm,” is Stede’s smiling response, and then between one moment and the next Ed is being kissed again. His shaking hands are in Stede’s hair, gripping at his ear, the side of his neck, trying to hold on to the shape of him while Ed himself feels like he’s falling apart. Heat and tongues and the slick, indecent slide of them take over. Breaths funneling into one another.
Against Ed’s gasping mouth, Stede murmurs, “My dear. You’re shaking,” before sucking in Ed’s bottom lip.
Groaning, Ed doesn’t try to fight it—the tide of panic, of love, of fear that lingers. He hadn’t expected that part, to be honest. All his life and Ed had shown fear the middle finger every time it came knocking. He’s had to, hasn’t he? But then wham, love stomps him to the ground, sets up a home inside his chest, and Ed hasn’t known peace since.
Stede’s fingers trying their damnedest to wiggle under his leather, squeezing at Ed’s ass sure as shit isn’t helping keep him sane.
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never had a prayer to follow (i'll be coming home tomorrow) by Hymn
Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)
27 Apr 2022
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Stede looks to Izzy.
Sees him sitting there where they told him to sit, to stay, hands locked like a vise around the wooden rungs, white-knuckled and desperate, as if he’s fighting against himself to stay put. There’s color high in his cheeks. His eyes are wide and shining wetly. He’s staring at the glistening sheen the plum left on Ed’s bottom lip.
“Captain,” he whispers, so much longing in the title and the tender, broken way his voice caresses it, that Stede knows Izzy can’t have meant to say anything at all.
Ed looks at him sideways, careful. “I think I like you sweet, Iz,” he gambles.
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darling, you're wild-eyed, empty, and tongue tied by Hymn
Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)
23 Apr 2022
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Three days later Ed is splashing about in the bath that Stede had drawn for him, letting Stede braid his hair into a fancy crown when he mumbles, “Say. This might sound crazy, properly daft in fact, but- did you ask Izzy to let you watch us?”
“Er,” Stede says.
“Because I- I don’t know about that, mate. The things we do down below…don’t know as I want you to see them. Probably best left down there, yeah?”
Very gently, Stede pins Ed’s hair into place and then presses his fingertips in a fan along his scruffy cheeks, tipping his head back enough that Stede can kiss his forehead. “I disagree,” he murmurs. “In fact, I think it’s time to erase this separation, hm? No more above and below, in here or out there. I accept every part of you, Edward Teach, and that includes Blackbeard!”
“Hm,” is all Ed responds with.
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It’s strange and awkward, the three of them navigating the same space like this. Stede can’t help thinking glumly to himself on more than one occasion over the next several days that everything is much easier when sex is involved, even though the sex is, in fact, more than tricky enough on its own. Being near Izzy in public feels like walking a tightrope, dizzying and dangerous and like one faltering step will be Stede’s downfall. He keeps thinking about what Izzy said, and he says to Ed one night almost a week out from Izzy’s whipping:
“He really loves you, doesn’t he?”
“Whaaaat,” Ed says, nestled up against Stede’s side before the crackling fire on a thick, fur rug they’ve only recently acquired. “That’s not what the next part says, is it?”
Series
- Part 10 of Hymn's Fic: Our Flag Means Death Collection
- Part 2 of how stede got izzy to call him daddy: an epic
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“Come on,” she says, and leads Stede out of the back room and down the hall. “He’s a broody one for sure. But he looked more like he was going to sick up than anything else when he was putting in his request. Don’t think you’ll have any trouble with him, and the kicker is- you get to be silent.”
“Oh, but I’m terrible at that!”
“So long as you’re better at it than your sex voices,” Rosa tells him, amongst other quick instructions: don’t speak, don’t take off his blindfold, let him call you what the fuckever he wants, and whatever you do…
“Don’t insult him,” Rosa says, hushed as she turns the knob and shoves Stede across the threshold. “That’s fucking Blackbeard, it is!”
The door shuts behind Stede.
Series
- Part 11 of Hymn's Fic: Our Flag Means Death Collection
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hi hi sometimes i draw things
Series
- Part 12 of Hymn's Fic: Our Flag Means Death Collection
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i won't forget you (but i may forget your name) by Hymn
Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)
16 May 2022
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“Fuck you, Edward,” is Izzy’s tired reply.
“Nah, we did that last time.” Ed looks up at Stede, grin blazing and eyes dark. “And I think there’s something else on your mind, yeah? Stede’s got nice tits.”
Izzy flinches. A tiny, minute tell accompanied by a flicker of his hot, angry eyes. Then he says between gritted teeth, “Edward, focus. We’re teaching Bonnet how to not get skewered the next time we engage and- and it was your stupid fucking idea in the first place, so just- just-”
His eyes flicker down to Stede’s chest again.
His words grind to an angry halt.
Series
- Part 13 of Hymn's Fic: Our Flag Means Death Collection
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There is a moment neither of you speak of.
Years past now, the stink of rot and piss and brine, a cell that has half an inch of water in it, gray and fetid, sun shining weak through a single loose board up where the hooks dangle down. Seated in the muck are you and him, him and you, back to back with your hands bound, your ankles hobbled, and-
He laughs, tipping his head back against your own, grinding in against your skull like the little shit he is.
“Don’t have enough hurts already, Teach,” you mutter, nudging your shoulder back, irritated.
Series
- Part 14 of Hymn's Fic: Our Flag Means Death Collection
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Yeah.
Maybe that’s why Ed wants it—why he thinks he can have it.
Ed laughs a little. More a puff of breath than anything else, some dark and quiet thing. For the first time in a long time, he feels like he fits inside of his skin. He feels molten. Feels like the sea itself, endless and restless. He reaches up and takes down his hair, lets the long fall of it drape around him.
He says, “Not gonna fuck you, Hands.” and watches the flicker of disappointment across Hands’ face with satisfaction so sweet it aches.
Series
- Part 15 of Hymn's Fic: Our Flag Means Death Collection
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Ed laughs, low and sweet. “Ah, Stede. Knew you’d be down for it, mate. Good, good. Iz, go on and take him with you. I’ll be over when I can.”
“Edward,” comes Izzy’s hoarse growl.
“You know how you get.”
“Tch.”
Stede takes in a great, big lungful of that sweet, sweet scent and oh, oh, of course! “That smell is you!” Stede says, voice strangled high as he recognizes the issue, and Izzy’s glare finally snaps to him, eyes dark and hot and hard, his lip curling up to bare his teeth.
“Fuckwit,” he says. “And you call yourself an alpha.”
Series
- Part 16 of Hymn's Fic: Our Flag Means Death Collection
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“Think maybe I’m…lonely? Fuck, Jack. How old are we.”
“Nineteen on my bad days,” Jack says, waggling his brows at Ed, grinning, inviting him in to the joke, to laugh again. But this time-
Ed’s standing there under the spray looking sad and lost, like when he was sixteen and desperate, when Jack was all he had. Worse, his hair is down and plastered across his cheeks, his neck, his shoulders, camouflaging the inked lines on his skin. Jack doesn’t let his gaze lower; doesn’t let his jaw drop. He breathes in, says on the exhale: “What, you in the market, Teach? Three kids, picket fence? Dog or cat, y’think?”
“Allergic to cats,” Ed says.
Series
- Part 17 of Hymn's Fic: Our Flag Means Death Collection
- Part 3 of the wasted gamble of our days
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“You and me,” Ed says, like a vow, like a threat.
“Yeah,” Izzy says back, willingly, achingly. “Yeah, Ed. You and me. Always.”
Series
- Part 18 of Hymn's Fic: Our Flag Means Death Collection
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“Izzy,” Stede says.
“Hm?” Izzy looks over his shoulder, staring a moment. “Oh. You, is it. Don’t fret. I’ve set our course for the Republic of Pirates, just as your lordship demanded.”
“Izzy. Have you been out here all night?”
That gets a soft, mean little chuckle. “You really aren’t a sailor,” Izzy muses. His hands are steady on the wheel, for all that his shoulders are slumped, made soft with exhaustion. “Not a captain. Hardly a man. So tell me, what the fuck even are you, Stede Bonnet?”
Series
- Part 19 of Hymn's Fic: Our Flag Means Death Collection
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Okay, that’s kind of weird, Ed thinks, and before he can think better of it he’s clicked on the profile: BonnyLad, he/him, over 40 and- looking for someone’s penis in his porridge, apparently.
Ed takes a swig of his beer.
“Yeah,” he decides, opening the DMs with a jab of his thumb. “Why the fuck not.”
Series
- Part 20 of Hymn's Fic: Our Flag Means Death Collection