#he needs to be able to let go. and izzy is letting him. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bowieandqueen11 · 8 months

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Love For You / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: I just found your ao3 account a few days ago and your writing style is excellent! Legitimately some of the most visual and evocative writing I've seen on that website, and I've been devouring your izzy hands fics since I caught up on season two! Can I request another izzy x reader post-amputation and just the reader caring for him while he's pining hard? Maybe the reader has some medical experience so they've been able to help him a little better than the rest of the crew, making sure he's taking time to heal in a difficult moment (physically as well as emotionally, god knows he needs that.) Letting him know he's loved and him realizing he hasn't...heard someone say that to him or treat him this gently in a long time

Thank you so much that's so kind of you to say, it's so lovely people finding me from AO3!! Honestly one of the best feelings, and goodness knows Izzy needs this :)

Okay so I haven't been able to watch the new season so all my knowledge is coming from Tumblr gifs and posts, so I really hope this isn't too ooc my lovely!! Anyway let's get this man some comfort!

I spent all day writing this, so all comments are much appreciated! Thank you! :)

Warning: mentions of blood/injury, mentions of physical abuse, mention of smoking, kissing and some strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Something monstrous seemed to be creeping up the shuddering walls.

No, it wasn't the stifling silence that had seemed to envelop those of Blackbeard's crew still left, hiding their heads between their legs and closing their eyes as they felt the quicksand drain out through the fingers. Nor was it the creaking organ snore of Wee John thrumming up the timber; the rest of your usually upbeat crew grew despondent as they wracked their brains together and came up with a way to save you all from imminent demise, having flopped onto their sides and fallen into fitful sleeps just before sunset. Sadly it wasn't even the feel of Lucius' finger stroking yours through the cold grates of your jail, his smile lost and forlorn as he thumped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as well, feeling even more entrapped in himself than you did.

It was, in fact, the hard glare Izzy Hands was shooting into the side of your face. He hadn't spoken a word since Stede had left, choosing instead to let out the odd sniffle from his corner bucket and busy himself by watching you like a man possessed: like something wild, something smothering itself in the shadows to stop its howling heart from devouring the light around itself. From tearing his dagger out of his scabbard and devouring his heart himself with clawed hooks. He looked ghastly, and he looked gargantuan as the life seemed to convulse within him, leeching out and darting its tongue around the creaking wood until it filled up the room and began to fill your heart up with a hope you thought had been lost weeks ago.

He looked beautiful and proud and defeated and assured in spite of it all, and you were finally beginning to understand why Zheng Yi Sao had locked him away in this cage.

And in a way, it terrified you that this cataclysmic, lucent shadow was creeping its merry way straight for you.

The tenebrosity was quickly broken by Izzy's shining eyes gliding across the bridge of your nose to land instead on your top lip. He wasn't entirely sure why exactly he was feeling so timid. It wasn't as if Frenchie was still awake, as he was too busy hugging his free arm around the remaining muscle of Izzy's thigh and burying his head into the muscle with a soft murmur of contentment. Yet the idea of being caught leering at you like a dopey boy was enough to make him judder with embarrassment, and enough to send Frenchie's head keeling sideways so his lips were rammed up against his trousers.

Thankfully, it was exactly Frenchie's floppy head that gave away the fact that he was fast asleep, and allowed you to steal Izzy away for yourself. With a gentle lift, you were quick to replace your friend's cheek with your own hand, giving the side of Izzy's thigh a reassuring squeeze.

'You look like you're bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders', you sighed as you took in Izzy's harrowing form. It wasn't his paleness that worried you, or the redness that cracked and splintered around his irises. It was the way he was watching you, eyes trained steadily on your face for the last hour and a half, as if he were doing his best to memorise everything he could before he ran out of time. As if he would never have the chance to look at you again.

The edges of his lips curled up, and he thumped his head back against the wall. 'Me? I'm feeling fucking fantastic. Never been better. Why do you ask?'

'Well', you began as softly as you could, straining to reach the vials in your hip knapsack to retrieve some salve for the scarring that had begun to pucker around his skin. 'We are about to be executed. I guess I just wanted you to know this is a safe space to let it all out before we are. A confessional of sorts, if a little makeshift.'

He wet his bottom lip as his eyes darted down to you, confused.

You pointedly looked him in the eyes, before unscrewing the vial and dipping your pointer finger in. Making sure he didn't seem too uncomfortable, you leant forwards as innocuously as you could, trying not to startle him anymore than he already had been. With a swipe, you began to rub the herb mixture around the sore looking welts left around his cut leg, making a point to run your fingertips soothingly over the goose-bumps that began to rise at the feel of you against him.

'I wanted you to know- to know that you're always safe around your crew.' You did your best not to let your voice tremble, no matter how much your throat tried to choke you. You turned your head back down to his leg, trying to hide the fact that your mouth was crumpling in on itself.

He winced as your hand brushed against a tender point, and you ran the back of your knuckles over his skin in apology. He felt like he was burning alive: a fire blazing so furiously in the pit of his stomach he was sure it was gushing out, swinging around the room and warning everyone of his impending falter as he fell upon the crags of your fingers below. He had no idea how, in all the seas, you couldn't possibly see how ecstatically devastated he was to be sitting here with you.

He didn't mind dying. He wasn't scared of it. As long as you were there to enhalo his misty light in the end. As long as you were there to love him until his last breath. As long as, no matter what form he took, you were still enclosed around his heart.

'Who says I have anything to confess?', he glanced at you with heavy eyelashes, eyes bleary but sharp as he started straight into your soul. I don't have to confess it, he thought, it's so fucking painfully obvious.

How could he confess something so inexplicable? Something that wrapped around all of his bones, that wormed its way into parts of himself he thought long numb: long lost. How could someone ever articulate the feeling of life itself? It was insurmountable, far too transcendent, too impetuous for mortals to to unsnarl into words.

'Oh Izzy', you said, mouth falling into a frown at the way his hips reflexively bucked up at the feel of a new cream being slathered around his leg to try and numb the pain. He moaned, trying to mask the sound by clenching his fist into his mouth and biting desperately into his knuckles. One more touch, and he was about to fall apart. 'Your eyes are drowning in so many regrets I can barely see the stars in them anymore.'

He huffed out a laugh, looking at you with incredulous, wild eyes. He willed his hand to stop shaking as he let it rest, still clenched, by his quivering chin. 'Not in my eyes. You never could. That's not possible. Not me.'

'I could.' You were quick to reply. 'I always could. You're our guiding light, Israel Hands.'

Oh boy, if he wasn't devastated before he sure was now. His face fell immediately, and for a moment you felt your heart ache with a sore regret at the silvery tears that began to cloud in the crinkles of his eyes. But then he does something that surprised even you.

The way he opened his legs up was almost miniscule: too small for anyone who didn't know this man's quirks and intricacies and giveaways to notice, but a well aimed shot that sent a rush of heat prickling up your cheeks. Before he changed his mind and retreated into himself again, you were quick to scoot your backside over and come to rest far too intimately between the tightening leather of his inner thighs.

'You can't be surprised that we care about you', he started after a moment of comfortable silence, leaning the side of your head to rest gingerly on his intact leg. 'That the whole crew has always cared about you. Look, someone even got you a mop-', you gestured to his side, trying to make him laugh before the sun rises, and thankfully you succeeded.

He shook his head out as if trying to refocus himself as his chuckle died out in his chest. He didn't want to laugh right now. He wanted to focus on the weight on his leg: on the feel of your nose brushing on the length of seam running up to his groin. He blinked back heavy tears that spread along his lashes, sniffling coarsely. He probably should laugh, he thought. He should be fucking howling, spitting, going rabid at the irony that the one thing he had been yearning his whole life was lying right there on his lap, and he only had a few hours left in his pathetic life to savour it.

'How are you doing, by the way? Seriously', you jolt your head up to watch him quizzically. He did his best not to meet your eye, choosing instead to stare at the black grains above Jim's slumped head. 'After, you know, everything that happened with Ed-'

'You don't need to worry about me', he sniffed, but his hand twitched as he lifted it up to rest on his thigh, just above the top of your head. 'It's my job to worry about all of you. Not the other way round.'

'When are you going to get it through your thick skull that we want to worry about you. This isn't some kind of weird mandate or self-preservation tactic on our part Izzy. You may be a fucking idiot, but you're our fucking idiot. Let us take care of you too, like you've been looking out for us.'

He squeezed his eyes shut, his head beginning to shake furiously enough to send his stray silver locks clambering over his eyes. He was glad for their cover, so he wouldn't have to see the way you had lurched forward: the way you were pleading with him with your eyes, as you rose onto your knees and pressed your hands firmly around his waist, just where the joint of his legs met the soft squish of his tummy.

'Don't you shake your head at me. We all know you've been trying to direct Blackbeard's anger your way. We do!' You cocked your head, trying to follow his face as he squirmed in your grasp. Losing your patience, you gripped his jaw with your thumb and pointer finger, directing Izzy's widening eyes back your way. 'We do, Izzy. We know what you've been doing for us. What you've been sacrificing. And I'm sorry - I'm sorry that none of this is fair. I'm sorry that any of this happened at all.'

One. Two. You tapped your finger a third time, your fingernail swirling over the fine nuances of the holster running over his sawed leg.

It had always been your little secret: a shared confidence, between you and Izzy. One tap. Two. Three on each other's arms after battles, three taps there on your shoulder before you went down to your bunk, three fleeting touches burning at the back of his spine to let him know that you were alright: to let him know that he was alright.

You only stopped when you heard a brisk inhale: a sharp whistle that broke through your indulgent repose and made Roach roll over. Thankfully, a moment later, the cook's arm was splayed out across the floor again, and his leg kicked out backwards with a swift jolt up poor Button's behind. Izzy, though. Izzy, despite the surprising tenderness of the moment, was almost smouldering. The muscle by the side of his femur began to writhe underneath just the point of your fingertip, the feeling of just your warmth making him feel too feeble. Too needy to even control the rest of his body; he desperately tried to reach out a hand to shove your shoulder back and push you away, but his mind was too busy swimming with the concentration of trying to remember how to inhale.

The sharp breaths he dragged in painfully were starting to worry you, as were the wracks of his spine as he seemed to writhe backwards and forwards, back arching off the wall before collapsing back down on itself painfully again.

He felt your hand clench around his back, guiding him to sit still again. You were close, far too close - your noses almost touching, as you took a risk and used your free hand to slowly.... god, so fucking slowly he felt like he was going to split in half. He looked like a wounded animal: something terrified of being hurt as his eyes stayed trained on your approaching fingers, face wary until your fingertips touched his hair and tucked it behind his ear.

And then he felt that warmth. That warmth against the shell of his ear. He bit down hard enough on his lip to draw blood, and for once, he was glad for the taste. It was comforting. Familiar. Deserved. He wasn't one for the fucking heartache of tenderness. And god, how his heart ached.

'Come on,' you nestled yourself between his legs again and perched your elbow up on his left leg. 'People must have cared about you before. Might as well get it all out in the open. Be honest with each other now.'

He paused, before the stubbornness wormed its way in again. 'No, they haven't-'

'Well, what about your parents? Your parents must have been kind. Besides, the crew obviously cares about you. I obviously care about you. Stop being so pig-headed.''

He startled you with a laugh: he seemed to choke on it, his teeth baring as he barked it out, yet he still couldn't seem to look at you quite yet. That's alright. You had an eternity left in these few hours.

Kindness?

He couldn't remember a time before joining Stede's crew that he had ever felt such a thing, let alone let it fester in the crevices of his ribcage until he felt the dreaded thing was going to claw its way out. Perhaps, if he let himself fester in the silence for a moment, an image of his mother would squirm its way out of his long repressed memories. Clawing and scratching and digging her pointed nails to dig her way out. No, his mother had never offered him a jot of comfort. She could stay buried in that coffin he had stuffed her down into, instead of rotting inside of him. He had enough barnacles to scrape off his body as it was.

It wasn't as if he had any surprisingly sweet memories of his life before. His mother had never been one for grace: her words always bit at his brain like a frenzied tempest, his actions never good enough. Once, when he was six years old, he had tottered up before the sun rose and followed his older brother down to the docks, trying to please his mother. Even so young, he had spent most of his years yearning to be seen as anything but the 'nuisance' or 'pest' his mother used to spit at his feet, and yearned to return with a line full of fish to please her. To help her with the chores that she always yammered his father had left her to rot with. Had left him. That he rotted away her youth. When he came slinking into the doorway, a nervous smile twitching at his ruddy cheeks, his mother had taken one look at the muddy, damp fringes of his trousers and had slapped him clean across the face for his troubles.

Another part of him remembered her warmth. The same that radiated off your palm as you spread your fingers across his knee; the way she would sometimes scutter into his bed at night, and he could smell the harsh sting of alcohol on her breath as she curled up and hugged him close against her chest. Of the way she would sometimes let him sit on her knee once the three of them had returned home after service, and she would brush back his growing hair and he would curl himself up to chase the stray ray of sunlight that glowed against her neck.

It had left him a Gordian mess of a man. Simultaneously spending his life seeking any kind of validation, any kind of affection, while his stubborn self-preservation did its best to push everyone away.And yet here you came, watching him with those sweet, sad eyes. Swinging the sword to undo him.

'I don't remember much about them', he replied curtly, but not unkindly. 'My father left us when I was young. I was... mainly left to my own devices.'

You nod slowly, letting his words thinking in. Letting the misery drenching every seething heave of his tongue wash over your head. 'Well', you began to rub your thumb in circles against his trousers, 'at least you have us here now. One good thing to add to the pile.'

There we go. The knot's slowly being undone.

You tried to smile, but the intensity of his gaze falling on you again unsettled you.

'You're right.' His voice was far too earnest for his own good. 'I have had one good thing in my life. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.'

You nearly jolted when you felt his hand smack down on top of yours. He had closed his eyes to try and hide himself from his discomfort, but his gloved fingers still slid between yours and squeezed despite himself. Once he was assured they were firmly intertwined: his own grasping tight enough to bust the leather at the stitching, he dared himself to finish his train of thought before he lost his nerve.

'I do... I do care about the crew. None of this was their fault, and they shouldn't have been fucking blamed for it. But I- I, I care about someone else far more than all of this twatty lot put together.'

It's a whisper into the darkness. A despairing yell of defiance against the solitude. A smothered light, long lingering and far longer forgotten. A spark of hope against the threat of ruination. It was a silver tear, glinting like starlight against his iris and falling with a content plop onto the back of your hand.

'I-I-', he stuttered out, clenching his teeth as he wills himself not to cry. 'I-'

The words refused to unlatch from his throat. Luckily, you were adept enough to notice the longing that drew a sad ache across his face.

'Izzy, I-'

'Let me finish', he stumbled out, his whole face now contorting as he struggled with the weight of it all. His bottom lip began to wobble against his will, face falling in on itself.

'I have-I have... love. For you. 'What I'm trying to say is'-, he shakes his head, chiding himself.

'Izzy, I know, it's alright. I know. I understand.' You grabbed tighter onto the back of your hand, enveloping it with your free one until his stopped shaking, begging him to realise you could see him.

'No-. No. If I don't say it now, I'm worried I never will.'

'Take your time, take your time. We have all the time in the world'. A sob finally gasped out from Izzy, chest heaving as he felt you draw his hands up towards your mouth. Still safe. Still warm. Still firmly cupped between your own, but the feel of your lips brushing against his knuckles was enough to send him reeling. The gentle peck that followed, though, was enough to finally let him break free.

A tentative finger reached out, checking for any signs of repulsion before landing awkwardly to point into the blade of your shoulder. He seemed to freeze: immobile marble frozen in fear as he seemed unaware as to what to next. After a few wary blinks, he clumsily spent a few seconds trying to manoeuvre the rest of his arm to cross across your back, before tugging your torso to lean closer towards him.

For a moment, it finally seems as if the world has skittered upright on his axis again. It felt normal. It felt right, feeling him grow comfortable with affection again as he melted, for the second time that week, into your hug. For his sake, as he burrowed his head into the pulse point of your neck until his stubble began to tickle your collar bone, you pretended not to hear the maimed whimpers that struggled past his closed lips.

The only time he moved was to raise his head up towards your nose, bumping it playfully against the tip of your own. Then another graze. A rub, and then another one, his eyes the whole time languidly drawn down to stare at your cupid's bow, until he slowly brought himself down to breathe unsteadily against your mouth. After a final moment of contemplation, he blinked placidly before closing his eyes and tilting his head to close the miniscule distance between the two of you.

His jaw was tense as you ran your finger down it, so busy trying to commit to his memory the pressure of your lips against his bottom one that he was forgetting to breath. But he didn't pull away. In fact, his hand clamped around your neck, digging almost painfully into your back as he stumblingly latched onto you, forcing himself further against your opening mouth. His hand found solace by cupping the back of your skull, chest squeezed against your breasts as he opened his lips and almost devoured you whole.

A loud 'awww!' erupted from your side, making the two of you jolt apart. The only problem was, Izzy's bottom lip had been rather firmly attached to yours. This meant that as you drew back, Izzy, in his stubborn unwillingness to let you go, let his bottom lip drag down along your inner mouth until a line of saliva connected your bottom lips, which only made the person the other side of the brig giggle even louder.

'You guys are cute', Black Pete yawned with a wakening stretch.

'Yes!', Roach chimed in as he teddy bear rolled his lanky legs round in front of him. 'I swear!', he continues, ostentatiously wiping his finger underneath his eye, 'I must be crying! I'm two seconds away from going up there and commencing our escape myself.'

With a tilt of your head that hit Izzy's chin, you looked at the cook incredulously. Izzy only gazed down at you past the crook of his nose, wonderstruck as the he let the words wash over his head.

'You. You really think you can take on all those very competent pirates up there.'

'Of course!'

'You cried for twenty minutes earlier about soup!'

Roach waved his hand unconvincingly in front of his face. 'Broth, it was broth! But I'm great with knives, remember! I have one hidden in my underwear right now!'

'Why... why is it in your underwear?', Oluwande piped in as he rested his head on the side of a barrel.

'Yeah, you weren't captured', Archie added, shuffling her own head off Jim's shoulder to look out past the bars. 'Why isn't it, I don't know, in your pocket or something.'

Even though Roach has opened his mouth to answer, his train of thought is broken by the tired grumble of another one of your friends. 'I hate to admit it, but that was actually very sweet', Lucius chimed in, twisting his lips into a shit-eating grin as he eyed the both of you up, another cigarette now firmly tucked in and freshly lit between his fingers as he took a drag.

'Is everyone on this fucking boat awake?!', Izzy cried, wrapping a hand protectively around your shoulder joint.

You snorted, burying your head protectively against the soft skin of his bellybutton. The sound of the crew beginning to argue with an increasingly impatient Izzy was like music to your ears; the monster was beginning to retreat.

No longer did it hang and shake and pierce the walls with its talons until it bled umbras. It retreated: chased away by the comely love of your crew. Of your family. Of the man who held you protectively against him, blinding you with his tender love.

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singmyaubade · 1 year

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warning: cursing

cheating!boyfriend!james x female!reader

you opened the door to the empty charms classroom where your boyfriend had detention. you gasped, seeing your boyfriend and your best friends sister kissing.

"y/n." james said, already raising up.

anger, sadness, surprise, disgust.

multiple emotions engraved your entire body.

you were stuck in a trance, not being able to fully breathe, not knowing which emotion to act on. you could cry, hit him, yell at him, but none of them seemed right.

"y/n, look at me baby." james said, holding your shoulders, trying to make you look at him.

you looked at him, glassy-eyed.

"baby," he swallowed, "i swear it's not what you think at all." he tried to calm you down but you just couldn't breathe in this moment.

"what the fuck." is all you said.

you looked at your best friends sister, izzy evans. what angered you even more was that it was the sister of a girl he once loved. a girl he once imagined his whole life with.

"baby, let me explain to you what happened." james reasoned, trying to keep your eyes on him.

"fuck you." you spat, turning your heel, storming off into the hallway.

"y/n please." he ran after you, trying to touch your hand.

"james fleamont potter, i don't want to fucking hear it." you snapped, pointing your finger at him.

you knew he had never seen you so angry.

in fact, you guys never fought. your relationship was pure and loving, only having an argument when needed. every problem, you would make sure to talk it out and you gave him your all.

which is why it was so hard to stomach that he cheated.

now his eyes were teary, "i can guarantee it's not what you think, you can't believe that i would kiss her," he rationally said, "i love you."

you couldn't tell if he was being genuine which only rubbed you more the wrong way.

"is this the only time you guys have ever done anything like that?' you asked, willing to forgive if you knew this was the only time it had happened.

he looked guilty, "we have had a few incidents before,"

you scoffed, moving past him to your dorm.

he quickly moved in front of you, "but, i swear, i never went too far."

"good fucking job, you didn't got too far with your mistress, you asshole." you sneered.

"because it was a crush, we both had a little crus-" he explained, realizing his slip up at the end.

"are you fucking kidding me?" you asked.

"baby, i'm sorry, i didn't mean it." he said, kissing you but you pushed him roughly.

"you had a crush on her? a crush on the girl you loved for most of your hogwarts enrollment's sister?" you fumed, "get the fuck away from me." you moved past him and he didn't chase after you.

you were so angry, not knowing where to go.

you didn't want to go to your dorm and have to explain to lily evans, your best friend of seven years, that you caught her sister and your boyfriend who used to be in love with her kissing.

it wasn't fitting.

you just wanted to erase you and james off of this planet. you didn't wanna calm down and talk, you wanted to destroy everything that existed of you two.

so you were going to.

you stormed to the gryffindor common room, going up the stairs to the boys dormitory. you knocked three times, not harshly but just enough to get notice.

sirius opened the door, an red apple in his hand that were shaped by two bites.

"oh y/n, im sorry to tell you but loverboy isn't here yet." he said, jokingly.

you could tell he didn't know anything because he was acting how he usually did and if he did, it would be dramatic because it was sirius.

"i know!" you smiled, "i just wanted to wait for him in here." you said uppity as you usually did.

"alrighty." he said, leaving the door open for you.

you closed the door behind you, "hey y/n." remus said, reading his book in bed with his glasses.

"hey remmy." you greeted with a smile, "how are you?"

"good, how are you? everything alright?" he asked, noticing your smile was cracking.

"fine actually," you said, "just fine."

"okay." he said, not knowing if it was the truth or not.

"do you guys know where james's broom is?" you asked, "he's gonna do some late night practicing?"

"without me?" sirius groaned.

"he wanted to show me a few of his tricks." you smiled.

"well, its right under his bed." sirius pointed.

"thanks." you grinned at him.

you grabbed the nimbus one-thousand fifty-five from under james's bed. you admired the wood of the handle, running your nails along it.

you then grabbed it by the broom part and used it swipe all of the pictures of you and james on the ground which startled sirius and remus.

"y/n!" remus yelled, taking off his glasses.

you ignored him, smashing james's broom on his desk, trying to tear it in half. when you failed at that, you dropped the broom and grabbed the snow globe that you gave him for christmas and smashed it on the ground.

sirius was now slowly trying to move over to you but a part of him was scared.

you grabbed a picture of you and james that was moving, you kissing him on the cheek.

you remember that day like no other, valentines day. james had got you your favorite cake from kowalski quality baked goods. one that usually took months to aquire due to how popular the shop was.

you took in the picture one last time before smashing it to the ground harshly.

that's when remus decided to intervene.

he grabbed both of your hands and hugged your back, putting his arm on your collarbones.

"let me go remus." you said, crying.

"it's not worth it." he whispered in your ear, "whatever it is, it isn't worth it."

you sobbed, holding onto remus's arm.

the door opened and you knew it was james, you didn't even have to look.

before james could say anything, remus said, "sirius take her, i'll talk to prongs." he instructed.

"wait," james said before remus cut him off.

"you don't wanna have this conversation now, trust me." remus said.

remus let you go as you crumbled to your knees and sirius rushed over to you, making sure you were okay.

remus walked outside to james and you couldn't hear what they were saying. all you knew was that you were heartbroken and had no idea what to do.

"come on y/n, please get up," sirius pleaded, not wanting the glass to cut your knees.

"why did he like her?" you sobbed.

"you know prongs is stupid," sirius sighed, "he's not the smartest and that's not an excuse but i think sooner or later, you should really find the root of the problem."

you sniffled, "i never knew you could actually give good advice." you joked.

"well, i think the destroying of the objects in this room has opened my eyes." sirius laughed, "let me clean this up."

you nodded, stepping off of the glass, hissing because of the cuts on your knees.

"after i clean this up, i'll help you with the cuts." he said as you nodded.

you watched as sirius performed several charms and spells to clean up the mess and fixed the fixable objects. after he fixed what he could, he tried his best fifth year taught healing skills.

"thank you sirius." you looked at his eyes.

he smiled, delivering a kiss to your head before going outside to talk to james and remus.

after what felt like several minutes, the door opened and closed. you looked behind you to see james and you both kept eye contact.

you both didn't know what to say for a while, it was as if both of you had forgot all of the words of the human language.

james cleared his throat, "i wish i could tell you something that could fix everything and make us go back to normal but i don't know what to do." he admitted, "i regret what i did to you, it will probably be my biggest regret."

"i know." you said, teary-eyed.

your eyes had burned from crying so much.

"i don't know if we can fix this," you admitted as his mouth opened, "if you are having enough doubts to like another girl, i don't think we should be together."

he moved in front of you, going on his knees, "y/n i love you so much, more than i ever will love anyone else," he pleaded, "just let me prove it to you."

you put your hands in his, "i'm not trying to be cruel, i know we both love eachother but," you exhaled, "i can't be with you if when you hurt me, i feel like this." a tear fell down your cheek, "it's not healthy for either of us."

"please." his voice cracked.

"jamie, we have to let each other go." you calmly said.

"don't leave." he croaked.

your response was a kiss to his cheek before you got up and headed over to the door, not wanting to keep talking about the same thing.

it might not be the last time you guys have this talk but it was enough for you for now.

#james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #marauders era #hp #hogwarts #harry potter #singmyaubade #tw mature #toxic!james #toxic!reader #james potter x you #marauders x reader #marauders

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jennaimmortal · 8 months

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I absolutely love seeing Ed being super protective of Stede! I think one of the fears that assaulted Ed about Stede’s newfound fame is a fear that Stede won’t need him anymore if he’s not “Blackbeard.” Ed & Stede both struggle with trying to be who others want them to be, even with each other.

WE know that they love each other just as they are, warts and all, but neither of them can accept that possibility. Ed is very likely afraid that of the main reasons Stede left him was because he had changed too much and wasn’t being “Blackbeard,” considering how Stede reacted to Ed shaving his beard off.

Ed doesn’t understand that Stede was actually blaming himself, feeling as though it was his fault that Ed was turning away from his Blackbeard persona. Stede doesn’t understand that Ed genuinely WANTS to get away from that side of himself. That’s the most important conversation that they needed to have, but in the week or two (maybe not even that long) since their reunion, they have both been focusing on everything EXCEPT for the important conversations they need to be having.

Ed also has a bad habit of trying to completely run away from the parts of him that frighten him. When Izzy confronted him about becoming “Edward” in 1x10, it made Ed feel like his softer side was wrong & problematic.

So what did he do? He ran so far in the opposition direction that he became The Kraken. Now, being faced with all the guilt & trauma of his time as The Kraken, he feels like he has to once again to a total 180 and leave behind all of his darkness. He doesn’t understand that he can accommodate the darker and lighter sides of his personality without going to extremes.

After seeing Stede leaning into his newfound popularity, Ed’s fear of Stede leaving him again flared into a full blown panic attack. He likely believes that Stede won’t be able to fully accept him if he leaves “Blackbeard” behind and embracing being “Edward.”

The last time he told Stede that he wanted to do just that, Stede left him. Ed’s trauma from those months without him is SO fresh! That terror of once again letting himself go all-in is all too relatable. It’s easier to run away than to once again be left behind, especially now that they have taken their relationship so much further.

My greatest hope is that Ed realized ON HIS OWN that he had panicked, and that he doesn’t actually want to be a fisherman. I really want this scene to be Ed returning to Stede & the Crew on his own, without knowledge of the attack.

Realizing that Stede is in danger, or possibly even dead, would certainly be more than enough of a catalyst to make him go dive for his leathers, preparing to go to his beloved’s rescue. I hope that will be the moment that he also finds Stede’s letter(s), which will make it very clear that Stede loves Edward, not Blackbeard.

It’s going to be such a long week waiting for them to be back on my screen!

#ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd #taika waititi #ofmd spoilers #blackbonnet #our flag means death #gentlebeard #ofmd season 2 #ed x stede #ed teach #blackbeard #stede bonnet

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canonizzyhours · 6 months

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What nobody wants to admit is there’s a reason OFMD fandom has a big divide over how to interpret Izzy and it’s simply that Con is playing against the scripts.

Con DOES play Izzy like he and Ed have a profound warrior’s bond and their relationship was actually a positive thing up until Stede appeared and Izzy’s jealousy made him briefly go a little bit insane, but once he recognized that Ed truly needed to be with Stede to be happy Izzy was able to let go because his love for Ed is genuinely selfless. People who see that in Con’s performance aren’t wrong.

However this makes no sense as an interpretation of the actual STORY. The scripts write Izzy as someone whose “love” for Ed has been selfish and controlling and abusive (in ways that, yes, echo Ed’s relationship with his father) since long before Stede was in the picture, and is mostly based in the fact that he craves power and manipulating Ed is how he achieves and maintains a position of power – plus the whole deal has this creepy undercurrent of psychosexual obsession. This was obvious back in season one but there’s zero remaining ambiguity about it at this point now that the show literally had Izzy tell Ed “I’ve been terrible to you for years” and “it was me who needed Blackbeard.”

The way he’s written, Izzy has to let go of both his ambition for power AND his fucked up crush entirely before he can stop obsessively trying to control Ed’s life and be normal enough about him to start building an even remotely healthy relationship, which the two of them never had before. Both djenks and other writers have said this in interviews - what Izzy needed was not to realize Stede was good for Ed, it was to let go of his obsession with controlling his boss’ love life entirely before he even COULD realize that.

This contradiction isn’t Con’s fault, or really anyone’s. If you’re an actor it’s your job to come up with headcanons that make sense of your character’s motivations even if they’re not super clear in the scripts, and the scripts do not focus all that much on Izzy’s internal motivations. (It’s clear from his interviews that he got only vague high-level overviews from the writing team about their intentions for Izzy’s overall arc too, which is normal for a supporting character - not only has he mentioned scenes where he struggled to figure out the motivation on his own, he didn’t even know the show was gay for four episodes, meaning the writers and directors didn’t tell him about Izzy’s gay crush on Ed, the thing he plays as Izzy’s core motivation!) And it’s usually a good idea as an actor to come up with an interpretation that lets you sympathize with your character. So Con went with the most sympathetic read of Izzy he could come up with. It doesn’t make sense of the overall narrative arc of the show, but that’s not his job, his job is figuring out a motivation that gives him a foundation for feeling like he understands Izzy’s perspective in the scenes he’s playing.

So if you pay the most attention to Con’s performances and ignore the narrative framing of the scripts, you end up with basically the canyon read on Izzy’s character. If you pay the most attention to the story the scripts suggest and mostly ignore the performance, you end up with the non-canyon one where Izzy’s a really really bad guy up till s2e5 and he’s manipulative and emotionally abusive toward Ed. Neither one of those is really “canon Izzy.” They’re both present in canon and they directly contradict each other.

This is what led to the fandom getting incredibly weird. Because people most interested in Con’s performance take it as the primary lens through which they interpret the whole show - but it’s an interpretation that fundamentally cannot make sense of the story as a cohesive whole, so they keep running into cognitive dissonance, and they try to resolve it by coming up with increasingly contorted interpretations of the entire narrative arc of the show (including parts that aren’t even directly about Izzy) and getting angry when other people bring back the cognitive dissonance by pointing out how nonsensical those interpretations are.

People who prioritize the scripts as their main interpretive lens don’t have quite the same problem, because if they notice what’s going on in Con’s performance there’s an easy way to integrate it: assume that the way Con acts is expressing Izzy’s own point of view, BUT IZZY IS WRONG ABOUT ALL THAT. Izzy THINKS he really understands Ed but he doesn’t. Izzy THINKS his feelings for Ed are selfless love but a lot of abusers think that, it’s him lying to himself about his motives being benevolent. And the thing is, this angle makes Izzy look REALLY FASCINATING but also WAY WORSE than the basic read where he’s just being selfish, it turns him from an ambitious manipulative schemer with a weird little crush into a horrific obsessed stalker with a creepy daddy-knows-what’s-best-for-you complex about Ed, a grown-ass indigenous man who never asked his white employee to control his life “for his own good.”

It’s no wonder everyone’s fighting all the time.

#88.

#ofmd #izzy hands #con o'neill

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johannestevans · 7 months

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i think his death was just shoehorned in at the end but like. i wouldn't even have minded much if they'd killed izzy in say, episode 5 and then had his death make an impact. kill him at the BEGINNING of the episode, even, and let it carry through

but killing him in the last 10 minutes and hurrying through it comes off far more as, "god, we're so scared about our budget being even LOWER if we do get renewed for s3 and this guy isn't part of our main romance but we don't know what to do with him and his salary is higher than a lot of our other cast, we have to kill him off quickly and get him out of the way"

esp bc like. killing izzy distracts from several other storybeats. ed and stede running an inn with izzy's corpse rotting in the garden. lucius and pete's matelotage is overshadowed by the grief for izzy. the big flee from the british even was about supporting izzy and then killing him off sort of pointlessly

like i'm sorry but like. as much as they can try to go "oh well, it was a mentor thing" or "oh well, it was a natural end of his arc" or whatever like. if it was about any of that they would have planned for that and written that.

if you have to give 10 interviews telling everyone what the point of your story was, you did not write a very good story. if you have to explain that, oh, izzy was meant to be ed's father or mentor, because you put in literally 0 scenes showing that, then... perhaps he wasn't that. perhaps you made that up last minute to explain what you've done.

maybe you made a choice for budgetary reasons, didn't execute it very well because you were under stress and freaked out about the aforementioned budgetary reasons, and then you had to think up an explanation. maybe for whatever reason, budget aside, your actor told you he wouldn't be able to make it back for s3 and the same thing happened. maybe you were worried that a guy you originally intended to be a two-dimensional antagonist was being played too well and was taking up too much emotional space in your tv show and you needed to get rid of him.

all of these would have been entirely understandable reasons to kill off his character, except that like. you could have also just sent him away and left it ambiguous, or had him die offscreen after being gone for a few episodes, and yes, it would have been sad enough but like. it wouldn't have taken away from the already slapdash narrative you were trying to accomplish

like that's the thing that frustrates me about the whole thing, it's just a complete lack of basic craftsmanship

there are other flaws like... i hate how ed and stede are meant to suddenly be happy together when ed hasn't been given time enough to grow and be comfortable, i hate that zheng was supposedly outsmarted by the brits and had her entire fleet abruptly blown up in one scene, i hate how oluwande and jim and zheng and archie aren't given enough screentime to play out their relationship dynamic(s), i hate lots of messy shit that doesn't do justice to the characters being given but like

izzy's death is just the biggest example

#musings #izzy hands #ofmd spoilers

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icallhimjoey · 10 months

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"Good boy. Time for supper."

JAIL. IDK IF IT'S HORNY JAIL OR REGULAR, JUST JAIL. 😩

well then LOCK ME TF UP because our boy's STARVING. here's the last part, and obviously, it's all 18+ and i really wont like you if you're a minor and continued reading. like, i genuinely wont like you as a person, so go sit with that. OKAY EVERYONE ELSE, ENJOY! Wordcount: 6.6K

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Double Or Nothing

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

You couldn’t think about it. Not in detail, but also not in the general sense. When you woke up the next morning, you let yourself briefly dip a toe into everything you could remember of the night before, and then you shut the door on it. You were halfway through breakfast leant up against the counter when Izzy rushed in, hair still wet from the shower. She looked… bad.

“What time did you get back last night?”

You’d absolutely heard her come in about fifty minutes after Joe had left. You had to pretend to be asleep already for fear of Izzy being able to read your mind since you weren’t able to think of anything else then. Or even, now. But it was the morning and there was routine, and it was easier to pretend nothing had happened the night before when there were little jobs that needed doing.

Izzy blinked at you, an empty stare somehow full of regret, and said, “I wasn’t meant to have any drinks.”

Her hangover had been the focus of the morning, which was a fucking godsend. Meant you didn’t even have to mention the bet. Didn’t have to lie about what the favour had been.

You had your eyes on your phone like a hawk all day. Couldn’t leave it out of sight, and were disappointed every time you got a message from someone else. Made you think, “shut up” when you didn’t see Joe’s name on your screen.

Until Joe did text.

“today’s favour will be over at mine”

And like a stupid teenager, you waited four minutes before you replied. Couldn’t come across too eager, could you?

“uh oh… should I be scared?”

Maybe Joe was going to have you make him dinner, or clean the floors. Something mundane he didn’t want to do himself today. You couldn’t possibly let Joe get the idea that you hoped for a repeat of the night before. If Joe was so hellbent on you winning the bet, that meant that maybe he was also hellbent on making you come on his mouth for seven days.

A girl could dream.

“no”

“ok”

“8ish if you can”

“ok”

You showered just in case. Exfoliated and shaved and sprayed some perfume down low that you walked through, because apparently you really were 16 still and boys thought girls were gross, didn’t they?

When you walked into Joe’s flat, you were glad for the teenager inside of you, because all arrows pointed in the same direction. Joe had a slow playlist going, and he’d lit a scented candle. Just the one. Easy to pretend it was there to get rid of the smell dinner left behind, like it wasn’t there for ambiance. Not that it mattered; the mood lighting took care of the ambiance plenty – cornered floor and table lamps casted the room in warm, soft oranges.

Before you could even ask what it was Joe needed of you, he said, “Sit.” and like a fucking puppy, you plonked right down in the middle of his sofa without question.

“You understand where this is going,”

You did, but couldn’t let on that you did, though. Even when Joe kneeled in front of you and started removing you shoes.

“I do?”

Joe scrunched his nose, kept undressing your lower half and said, “I think you do. You know, since you won and all,”

Made you give him a deadpan stare, just short of an eye roll. Made him smirk like a naughty schoolboy. One with an ego, though. One that knew he was right and was going to keep the bit going until you verbally agreed with him and would tell him he was right.

Unfortunately for him, you weren’t that easy.

Joe knew that.

Didn’t make trying to get you there less fun though.

You came so quick, it was stupid. Blamed it on his fingers that got involved this time. They’d hooked, and they’d hooked just right. Only two – two was plenty.

Afterwards you’d barely spoken. You’d laughed because you’d just orgasmed on Joe’s sofa – the place where you all watched weird obscure films sometimes, right on the crease between two cushions that you always lost your phone in. It was all so bizarre, you couldn’t do anything other than laugh, and Joe’d looked at you a second, then asked, “Gonna admit it?” And of course, you weren’t going to admit anything. Silly boy.

Joe had then gotten up and had stepped away – had to adjust himself in his jeans on the first step. You’d pretended you hadn’t seen and used the privacy Joe’d given by turning his back to quickly get your bottom half back into your clothes.

“I need to know what to tell people when they ask about these favours,” you looked over your shoulder and saw Joe blow out the candle. Fucking knew it was there just for the occasion. Men are so transparent.

“Mmh,” Joe thought a second, then shrugged. Said he’d go with whatever you’d tell ‘em, and he seemed not fussed. Not like how you were fussed. You didn’t need your friends knowing about this, but Joe seemed to carry an air of we’re adults, who gives a shit what we get up to, and maybe that was the better way of going about it.

Then Joe said he was going for a shower, and whilst zipping up your ankle boots, you’d gone, “I’ll see myself out!” all chipper and upbeat, like you hadn’t just shared wild intimacy together.

Wednesday had happened in the same fashion.

Joe had texted, “come to my place again”.

You thought you were being cute when you replied, “what for”.

Joe replied, “come at my place again” and you’d blushed and deleted the message straight after because no one could ever accidentally come across that.

Joe’d eaten you out on his sofa again, and you were surprised that you didn’t like how you weren’t in his bed. You were also surprised that afterwards, you were so into it, you wanted to return the favour. But just like before, Joe was quick to slip into his bathroom. You didn’t want to assume it was to rid himself of the blood and pressure that had pooled in his underwear, but you didn’t know why else Joe couldn’t really hang out with you for a little while after.

By now, it had become a little easier to look him in the eye, though.

On the fourth day of the week of favours, there was no denying how the rest of the weeks was going to go. The two of you would meet, either at his or at yours if you had the place to yourself, Joe would get his head between your legs until you felt dizzy and weak with want, and then he’d try to make you admit that you’d won. There were no kisses, no cuddles and no hands held. It truly felt like a friend doing another friend a favour, except the other way around.

And it was fine.

Joe kept his attention down where he was supposed to, and you tried to focus on the nice things, like how Joe didn’t high five you after. And how he didn’t force eye contact during. You know, things other men had done that had made you give up on their potential.

Yea, it was weird. But it was also nice. Nice was a weird way of describing it, but it was your first thought when Joe jokingly licked the inside of your leg until he heard frustrated huffs coming from above him. He had to stop because he was laughing so much, and you’d shoved him and then pretended to want to get out of your bed which turned into a little wrestle full of giggles that only stopped because he’d latched onto not your leg. Reduced you into a whimpering mess immediately.

That was nice.

It was different when it was with a friend and not some weird guy of an app. Better.

But for whatever reason, on Friday you’d woken up in a horrid mood and hadn’t been able to shake it all throughout the day. After work, you kind of wanted to go home and sit in the bath for three hours. Have wine and watch a comfort film from your childhood that could easily make you cry, like The Little Princess, or whatever.

“no pub for me tonight”

You sent into the groupchat. Got immediate private replies from both Izzy and Joe.

“got a date planned you haven’t told me about?” from Izzy.

“??” from Joe.

Two other friends made fun of Joe making you do too many things – said, “stop making her unpack your whole flat Joe” and “burnt out on day 5, best send flowers again”. You ignored the groupchat for the time being.

You sent Izzy and Joe the same reply.

“bad day, just want to be home”

Surely, Joe would understand. He had said he wouldn’t force you into doing something you didn’t want to do, and everyone had their off-days, right?

Izzy replied, “promise I’ll be quiet when I get in”

Then, a message in the group chat from her, “everyone else still going?” which trickled in thumbs up emojis over the next hour or so. Also from Joe.

And wow, that went easier than expected. Your skip a day lose a favour rule could’ve made that difficult. The strange sense of relief you felt was welcome after some twat from administration had made your blood boil by e-mailing the whole company about a mistake you’d made, warning everyone not to do the same.

You honestly thought you wouldn’t see Joe that day.

Yet, you weren’t surprised when your doorbell rang, and you saw Joe through the intercom.

“Hey, what–”

“Said I had an early morning and snuck off before anyone could ask what I’d be up to,”

You were in your pajamas – the kind you didn’t really let others see, ever. Were tired, definitely not in the mood, but Joe’d come over for one thing and one thing only.

You buzzed him in on a defeated sigh and waited for him by the front door.

When you didn’t really step aside to let Joe in, Joe slowly squeezed himself past you, his face way too close to yours. Hovered there a second, noses nearly touching.

Always close enough to kiss.

And yet...

“Come on, I’m starving.” Joe said and for the smallest of moments, you thought maybe Joe would make his way over to the kitchen. Find your left-overs to heat up. He didn’t, of course, door of your bedroom already opening.

You looked a bit dazed when you closed the door behind him, because just getting his face close to yours had flipped something inside of you. You swallowed thickly before you turned and made your way over to where Joe had installed himself on your bed.

Lying flat on his back, he smiled when he saw you step out of your pajama bottoms. Licked his bottom lip and beckoned you with two hands near his face.

You’d never sat on someone’s face before, and when you reached to turn the lights off, Joe said, “No. Leave ‘em on.” and seemed genuinely excited for what was about to happen. It was the first time you thought maybe you really were doing him a favour, instead of the other way around.

It was awkward having to bring your core to his mouth, especially since you were able to fucking see all of it. Usually, men would bring their mouths down all by themselves, wouldn’t need you to take any action. The second Joe got his mouth on you, however, no other action of you was needed besides keeping yourself upright.

Which was difficult.

You silently scolded yourself for earlier thoughts of wanting to skip today. This kind of turned everything around and you realized it was the perfect remedy. Joe curled arms around your legs and held on tightly as he worked his tongue in all sensitive spots he knew to find.

But then, about four minutes in, the sound of a key loudly being shoved into its keyhole made both you and Joe freeze.

Izzy.

You checked behind you and saw that, thank fuck, you’d closed your door before climbing onto the bed.

Frozen with fear, neither of your moved for a second, but you both listened. Heard how Izzy tried to be quiet, like she had texted she would do, heard her take off her shoes by the door before slipping into the living room. She shut the door behind her, and you let go of a breath you’d been holding.

“Fuck, okay,” you whispered as quietly as you could. “If you’re quick, she won’t– ah, mhm,”

What you meant was, if Joe was quick to leave, Izzy wouldn’t see him. Not, if he was quick to continue until you orgasmed, because you couldn’t! Not with Izzy in the house! Not from Joe’s mouth in your bedroom with Izzy on the other side of your bedroom wall!

“No, we can’t–”

But Joe was relentless, and your breathy pleas probably didn’t even reach his ears, what with your legs in the way and all. Joe held onto your thighs with newfound strength and continued with more frevour than before. Had you arching your back and slapping your own hands over your mouth to shut you up.

Shit.

You were scared the whole time. Every sense heightened and somehow therefore everything felt… even better. You didn’t like that. The combination of having Joe’s face between your legs, his tongue touching places it hadn’t even gone near before despite this being the fifth day of favours, and fear – legitimate fear, because what would happen if Izzy knew? – felt dangerous.

Somehow, you’d convinced yourself that your whole friendship and whatever else this was with Joe was held together by the fact that this was all a secret.

If your mutual friend, your best one and your flatmate at that, was to walk in with you sat on Joe’s face, it’d be over and done with. The favours would stop, which… were people able to grow attached to something in just five days, do you think? But you’d survive that. Had survived good sex leaving your life before and had always been fine. The whole friendship coming to a screeching halt, however?

It was the worst way to learn, the worst timing to learn, that even just entertaining the thought hurt your own feelings.

Maybe that was why things had never really progressed before. Joe had always been flirty with you. Slapped your ass when he saw the chance, things like that. Would graciously offer his lap whenever all seats would be taken. But until now, you’d always shoved him in return. Made him laugh, which then would make you laugh.

You were sat on Joe’s face, but you kind of wanted to sit on Joe’s lap for a few hours. The other way around so you could stare at his features. Lean in for a kiss if you wanted, one that would be reciprocated.

Have that be normal.

Be around your friends and give in to Joe’s stupid flirting and have all of that be normal.

Not that this seat was bad – it was just... the hem of your top covered half his face. You only got forehead, an eyebrow and tensed forearms when you looked down. Tensed forearms that hugged around your thighs and held you open from the front. You hadn’t even kissed Joe. Couldn’t even remember the last time you hugged.

You were swimming in complex emotions, all layered shit, good and bad and worse and better and the best but simultaneously also the absolutely worst. Your mind wasn’t with it, and it was taking long for you to get there. Was long for Joe to have his head in between your thighs.

You kind of wanted to cry, and you nearly did when Joe suddenly let a hand sneak up under your top to cup a boob.

Joe had never touched the bare flesh of your tits before. You gasped at the touch, but only because you couldn’t moan. Couldn’t be loud. The gasp made Joe sneak up his other hand as well, and it was a little awkward because the arms came up from behind you, but it worked.

Joe knew what he was doing. Got your out of your head and into your body by simple touches under your top and like fucking clockwork, you orgasmed. You bit your lips into your mouth until you swore your teeth broke the skin, stifling as much noise as you could.

Eventually, you flopped over. Fell into the mattress beside Joe, and heard him pant softly.

There was no way Izzy hadn’t heard, you thought.

When you turned your face to look at him, you hissed, “Oh my God, you look insane,” and sat up to use the fabric of the top you were still wearing to wipe at his face. Joe shook with silent laughter, but let you clean him up a little.

Bent over and leant close, skin of your torso bared from where you pulled on your top, Joe’s hand found your side. It almost didn’t touch you, hovered a little and let fingertips brush and you didn’t understand how this feather light touch wrecked you more than Joe’s tongue circling and dipping inside of you had done.

You slowly wiped at Joe’s face for longer than you needed to, let your eyes dance across Joe’s face as he stared up at you.

If you leant down right now, if you just...

You saw how Joe’s eyebrows quirked. Small little movement you wouldn’t have caught had you not been so close to him. Made your breath shudder. Made you think of how Joe didn’t push you away. Didn’t do anything but stare back up at you. Big, brown, shiny eyes. All soft and round.

You didn’t realise you’d slowly lowered down until you felt Joe’s nose touch the side of yours. He nudged you with it, away to the side a little, and you swore he was about to say something, but then you both suddenly heard movement about the flat and were thrown back into reality.

Izzy.

You pulled your top back down and avoided Joe’s eyes as you got up to tiptoe towards the door where you put your underwear back on, ears perked for any noise within the flat that would give away Izzy’s whereabouts. You noticed you still felt panicked, heart in your throat, back of your neck prickling, everything all awful and you remembered the whole day had been bad. This horrible end of it fit just right.

Because it was horrible, wasn’t it?

Your flatmate was about to find Joe in your bedroom.

That need to cry you’d felt when you’d left the office earlier that day reared its head back up.

You didn’t cry, wouldn’t cry. Not until you’d have snuck Joe out of the flat, at least.

Izzy couldn’t know.

If she knew, that would be the end of everything.

Joe hadn’t even kissed you.

A whisper of your name snapped you from your thoughts. Joe was still on your bed but was now getting out of his own clothes. Your eyes grew wider and your brow furrowed because what the fuck was he doing?

“I’ll wait her out,” Joe whispered, and in just a T-shirt and his boxers, he reached for the top of your duvet. “Wait ‘til she’s gone to sleep,”

And your mind raced for a second. Joe was probably right. To avoid your flatmate and any questions afterwards entirely, she’d have to be out cold.

But then you softly said, “You should leave,” because you wanted out of this situation.

Joe had already slipped himself into your bed, underneath the covers.

“I will, won’t be long. Izzy seemed tired,”

“I am tired,” you argued like a prissy teen. You were worried, and you felt cold. A little clammy. Grumpy, and scared still. Vulnerable and raw, and your throat hurt from the whispering and the moans you’d wheezed out.

“Come lay down,” Joe slung back covers to expose your side of your bed, and the thought of doing just that, laying down in your bed with Joe next to you, was making you feel sick. He seemed so cool and casual about it too. Like none of it really mattered.

“No, but, I–I don’t think– what if–”

“It’ll be fine,” Joe’s hushed voice reassured, and you sucked in a sharp breath that you then held. “Come,” Joe whispered again with a little more urgency, beckoning you with an impatient open hand. “Feels like you’re crashing, get into bed before you hurt yourself.”

Crashing?

“Aren’t you–” you started another whispered sentence but were cut off once more, now by Joe’s flat hand slapping down onto the mattrass in feigned frustration, eyes all wide but mouth so close to curling up into a smile.

“Come, here,” Joe ordered through clenched teeth and yea, all right. You could lay down in your bed. Your safe spot. Just, it didn’t feel so safe now that Joe was there.

When you moved into the bed and got comfortable, you felt a little like you were placing your body in a position you thought people looked best in. Like you weren’t a real person who just stepped into her own bed, but were on a film set and this is how they directed you to lay so that it looked best from all angles. You performed laying down. Stupid.

Had to remind yourself Joe was just Joe. That one guy amongst your friends who didn't impress you the way he impressed everyone else.

He was just Joe.

Unlike last week, where you felt it would be too close for comfort to curl onto your side facing Joe, it didn’t feel like there was such a thing as being too close anymore, and so that was exactly what you did now. Laid on your side, hands together and pressed under your head, facing Joe.

Joe did the same but stayed on his side of the bed, leaving plenty of space in between the two of you.

“Better?”

You shrugged with your exposed shoulder. Joe scanned your face for a second, searching eyes roaming freely and then he frowned a little.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t...” Joe trailed off.

“You didn’t,” you were quick to reply, but you felt a tear escape your eye. It was easy to hide, since it was the eye closest to the pillow, and you thought maybe Joe wouldn’t have seen. You felt how it wet the skin between your fingers before it disappeared into the fabric.

“No, but, you seem... not okay,”

You couldn’t look him in the eye and kept eyes trained on his chest. On one particular crease in the cotton of his shirt that was just there because his shoulder were pressed forward.

It looked soft. And inviting.

“I’m fine,”

And Joe would’ve let it go. Would’ve just said, okay good, and, don’t worry I’m not that sleepy. But then a sticky tear left your other eye that traveled over the bridge of your nose. It was impossible to miss, and Joe didn’t even give you time to try to wipe it away, to excuse it, to make something up on the spot of why it was even there, because he started scooching. Closer to the middle of the bed. And then an arm reached over and placed itself on your back and pulled you in, made you scooch until your face met that crease of fabric in the middle of Joe’s chest and a large palm around the back of your head kept it there.

“Sorry,” got whispered into your hair.

“It’s not you– you didn’t do anything wrong,”

“S’just a lot?”

“Mhmm,”

It was a lot. You'd had a bad day, and now Joe was cuddling you close, and the bed was warm and soft, and you had fingers in your hair, stroking down your scalp, playing with the strands.

“Sorry,” you spoke around an exhale and relaxed. “I will fall asleep if you keep doing that,”

You would. Felt yourself relax fully and sink deeper into everything soft.

“Good. Then I’ll keep going.”

That made your face scrunch up like you were in pain. Made your ribs want to flare and tighten up simultaneously. Made you blush harder than when Joe pulled you onto his face with your full weight.

Joe didn’t lie. Had to shift twice to make sure blood flow reached his fingers still, but kept his fingers in your hair. You used the first time he moved and switched arms to snuggle closer. To burrow deeper. Was easy to hide what you were doing - you were simply also readjusting a little. The second time, you tilted your head upwards enough for your nose to find the warmth of his skin just above the collar.

You fell asleep like that.

And, troublingly, you also woke up like that.

It was morning, and Joe was still there.

You moved, stretched yourself out of Joe’s hold which roused him awake. Rolling over, you found your phone to check the time.

“What time is it?” Joe croaked, burying his face back into the pillow.

“Just past 6,”

It was early still. Early enough for Joe to be able to sneak out without Izzy even being aware he’d ever been there.

You rolled onto your back after putting your phone back down and blinked at the ceiling for a moment. Found focus in your eyes and listened to Joe’s breathing.

God, your life was so weird. This week had been weird. And there were two days of favours left still.

Then what?

What would happen after?

You’d just go back to being the friends you were before?

You didn’t think you could do that, or even wanted to do that, but you couldn’t think like that. This was just a wild week, and on Monday, things would go back to normal.

Normalish.

You’d learn to slot back into that place where Joe made advances jokingly and you’d shake your head at the bad overdone moves he’d put on you.

No one would be the wiser.

“Izzy’s asleep,” you whispered, and you meant, time to leave. You turned your head to see Joe was also lying on his back with his eyes open. Except his weren’t studying the ceiling, his were on you.

“Do you think she will still be in half an hour?”

Um. Sure? She probably would be. It was the weekend, after all.

Without warning and before you could answer his question, Joe ducked entirely under the covers and moved across. Ate you out whilst you still had sleep in your eyes.

Saturday was a whole mess.

Joe’d snuck out, hadn’t been seen or heard by your flatmate and, good.

That was good.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about how that morning had been different. Halfway through he’d swapped his death grip around your legs for search of your hands. Joe was hidden under the covers and did everything a lot slower than he’d done any of the other times, and then found your hands with his and held your hands for a little while.

You managed to be quiet. Quieter, at least. But it was still fucking amazing, especially when Joe guided your hands to the back of his head and encouraged you to push his face into you. To add more pressure that way.

He’d come up and kissed you on the forehead after, and then he’d left you in the bed by yourself, all blissed out whilst he casually got dressed and walked out. Hadn’t even asked you to tell him that you’d won the bet.

Izzy witnessed you knock over a full cup of coffee, saw how it spilled over the counter and dripped down the kitchen cabinets as you swore and clumsily cleaned it up. You made yourself a new cup which you then let slip from your hands just when you were about to sit down on the sofa, and she’d gone, “Jesus, are you all right?”

You’d grumbled something under your breath and sighed at the coffee stain you’d left on the rug.

“What happened at work?”

Izzy referenced the text you’d sent her yesterday and linked your behaviour to it. You gave a vague explanation of why your managers sucked, and Izzy said to join her for lunch later. Good big lunch, maybe a few drinks. Would do you good. Have some fun.

“Or is Joe going to, I don’t know, make you organize his junk drawer or whatever?”

“Oh,” you thought a second. “Yea, maybe. But I could do that after lunch. Joe can wait.”

However, you didn’t end up going to lunch with Izzy.

Instead, you opted to do what you’d wanted to do the night before and sat in the bath for a few hours. Watched nostalgic films that made you cry salty tears into the bath water. Thought of how you wanted Joe to kiss you on the mouth and then tried to erase those thoughts by slipping fully under the water for as long as you could.

Izzy didn’t like how you isolated. Said you’d been weird all week.

You swiftly blamed it all on work, “It’s just hectic times and I need to not be around people for a little bit.”

Whilst covered in bubbles, you heard Izzy move about, doing laundry, vacuuming, cleaning shit up - all domestic chores she’d left for the weekend. And she was on the phone to someone. You swore you heard her mention your name, but you decided to assume it was nothing. Probably just a mention of you not going out for lunch with her, or a mention of you hogging the bathroom for hours. Whatever.

Saturday had felt messy, but Sunday was all right. You’d slept okay, didn’t feel so sluggish anymore and made Izzy breakfast because you were a good friend, and she was a good friend.

You pushed every thought of it being the last day of the week of favours to the back of your mind. Evaded the topic of your friends entirely in conversation with your flatmate for fear of mentioning Joe.

Sunday was all right.

It was all right until it wasn’t.

Joe texted.

“4, my place”

You didn’t like that tone.

“ok.”

You fullstopped him and kind of hoped Joe didn’t like your tone either. Sending a text like that helped you numb your feelings a little. Was good practice for later. A self-protection sort of thing.

When you were let into Joe’s flat, you expected it to go like it had gone before. You’d walk in, there’d be slow music playing, sheer curtains drawn, mood lightning on and Joe’d direct you towards the couch.

And there was a sort of calmer playlist going, but the place smelled of food, and Joe had greeted you all upbeat and chipper. Said, “I hope you’re hungry!” and you hated that you thought today maybe you’d get to return the favour before you thought of dinner.

You’d walked in on Joe in the middle of preparing a roast dinner. A roast dinner for two.

“What’s going on here?” you asked, shrugging off your coat and surprised by how much was happening in the kitchen. Pots, pans, the oven on, all these smells, plates and cutlery stacked and ready to be moved towards the table – there was a lot going.

You watched Joe pick up the lid of a pot and stir what was inside. He shrugged with his back turned.

“Wanted a good roast dinner and couldn’t make one just for myself,” Joe looked over his shoulder. “Thought for today’s favour you could have half the food and keep me company.”

You didn’t know if relief or disappointment took the overhand on this one. You forced it to be relief, smiled at Joe and said, “This smells fucking amazing,” but felt in your gut then that it was definitely disappointment.

Rationally, this was a clever move, because it kind of moved you back into the two of you just being friends. You had dinner together, talked about all sorts – how you wanted to kick the teeth in of that one bitch from administration, and then swiftly moved onto nicer things, like Joe’s next upcoming project. Not for a second was the bet mentioned. There were moments where you entirely forgot about it too. Joe was smart. Tomorrow was going to be easy now.

It’s just that... you didn’t want it to be easy.

You wanted to crash your entire face onto his, to collide with him. You didn’t, of course, you had dinner like two civilized people, two normal friends, who pretended they hadn’t just had the weirdest week of their lives together. Didn’t mean you didn’t sneak glances at Joe’s mouth, at those pink plush lips, all throughout the meal.

When the food was all gone and the dishes had been loaded into the washer, you declared you probably should get going. Told Joe Izzy had been worried.

“Don’t know if I’ll be able to come down next Friday,” Joe said, following you as you slung arms into your coat and made your way to his front door.

“Surprise, surprise,” you said all sarcastic, smiling. Made Joe huff a small laugh before his whole facial expression changed.

“Oh, and one other thing,”

You sorted the collar of your coat with both hands and turned back to find Joe much closer to you than you’d thought he’d be.

“You still haven’t said it,”

You stopped faffing with your coat, hands dropping down, and Joe stepped even closer.

“Oh my God,” you said softly, head tilting in defeat, amused but surprised Joe was still going on about this.

“Say you won the bet,”

You squeezed your eyes shut and frowned, were about to tell Joe that he was being ridiculous and why was it still even important now? You’d ticked off the last favour. It was over now! Was his ego that precious that he still needed to hear from you that he was right?

But Joe was quicker than your words were, and in the moment of your eyes being closed, Joe brought a hand to the back of your neck. Made you snap open your eyes instantly.

Joe was close.

Nose to nose now.

Made your whole body freeze.

“Why can’t you say it?” he whispered, practically into your mouth, and you didn’t know what to do.

“I don’t–” you couldn’t even finish the sentence you started, both because you weren’t sure of what to say, but also because your throat closed up the second Joe tilted his head and moved his mouth towards your jaw.

Placed a soft chaste kiss there.

Made you close your eyes and shudder on an exhale. Made you let Joe move your head to the side as his moved down, getting your neck next.

It wasn’t the desperate collision you’d wanted before, and it’s not on your mouth either, but you were standing in Joe’s hallway about to step out and Joe wanted you to say words he wanted to hear and was coaxing them from you by letting his lips softly brush against skin they had never brushed against before.

Made you weak in the knees.

“Hmh? Just say it, say you won,”

You had your eyes closed, but your lips were parted. The grip Joe had on the base of your skull firmed, and he moved you to the other side. Got your neck there. Jaw too.

You swallowed thickly when you felt Joe move back a little. Blinked open unfocussed eyes and fuck, you were going to need a minute.

“Say it,”

Joe tilted his head down, let your foreheads meet and this was more than it had been all week. More intimate. More romantic. More of what you’d actually wanted. Joe always got so close, but Joe never kissed you.

“Say it for me,”

“I won,”

The words slipped out of you without you even registering it properly. A brief moment followed in which time sort of stopped, just for a second. You heard no one breaths, heard no blood rushing in your ears, heard no exactor fan still going in the kitchen.

Joe grinned.

You fucking said it.

He let his other hand find your face to cup and moved in to do what he’d been wanting to do all along, but hadn’t felt was appropriate.

Joe moved in and kissed you on the mouth. Got your bottom lip between his and let it be all soft, all slow.

Too slow.

Far too slow.

Time caught up and so did your brain. Then, your body did too, and where before your arms had just been down by your sides, you let them find Joe’s shoulders. Then his neck, and you used it to pull Joe in closer. Made him collide with you.

You were kissing Joe on the mouth and, Jesus, you wanted more. Deeper. Harder. Wanted to lick past his lips and live inside all of that wet and warm. You felt how Joe was trying to suppress a smile – felt that with your mouth, my God – and felt how he was about to pull back.

“No, I won, I won I won,” you panted all desperate, using forceful hands on his head to keep him attached to your face. “I won the bet, I said it. I won.”

Just for a moment, Joe just... went with it. Let you jump up and curl your legs around his torso. Had laughter stuck in his throat but loved how you gripped, and clung, and built the kiss until it became a brutal devouring mess and... shit, he needed more.

Joe started moving, used his hands to get you back out of your coat that you easily let slip off of you, one arm at a time, mouths still hungry, practically eating each other.

Joe turned back into his flat.

Then towards the bedroom.

When you realised where Joe was trying to take you, you were quick to unlatch from him. Let your feet touch the floor again.

You were kissing Joe and he was guiding you towards the bedroom.

What was happening?

“Come on,” Joe said, got his mouth back onto yours and tried lifting you up again. “I still owe you good head.”

“What, but I... the favour was having dinner with you, I–” Joe cut you off with a kiss to your neck, the pressure of it almost violent. Made you moan instantly and go all slack. Slack enough for Joe to get you back into his arms again, both of his curled tightly around your waist.

“Didn’t you just say you won?”

And, oh.

Yes.

Yes you did.

There were no favours if that was the case. Just... just good head. Like you had gotten all week, because...you’d won the fucking bet.

Even if you had pretended all week that you hadn’t.

You’d won.

“Don’t worry,” Joe panted and used an elbow to open his bedroom door. “I won too.”

You couldn’t fucking believe it. Joe grinned at you and you grinned right back before crashing into him for a kiss once more.

There were only winners here.

Joe carried you into the bedroom and you couldn’t help but giggle into his mouth as he lurched you onto the bed before using a foot to kick the door shut.

You’d won, and Joe’d won, double or nothing had turned into everything, and there were only winners.

the end

---

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellyxo1 @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @ohmeg @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @roosterisdaddy36 @alwayslindie @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @frootvelvet @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @babybluebex @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @harringtonfan4 @emma77645 @tlclick73 @eddies-puppet @electricmunson @everythinghasafacee @a-time-for-wolvess @lucifers-side @barfightzanddiscolightz

(taglist currently full, sorry!)

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #rpf #18+#double or nothing #part 5

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stizzysupremacy · 4 months

Text

post-canon Stizzy concept: Izzy showing up at the inn like a year later (maybe he never got gut-shot . I like the idea that he faked his death). Ed is gone, having gotten bored enough to have himself another little menty b and has fucked off to follow a new whim, some new life path that Stede had no interest in walking. (so they broke up. Again.) Stede is now running more of a boarding house instead of an inn because of course those two losers chose a rundown shack in a sparsely populated area that does not have enough people passing through to sustain an inn. Stede’s kinda quietly surviving, doing an okay job of it, and convincing himself that it’s the right place for him because obviously his grand adventures at sea didn’t work out for him so it’s time to stop dreaming big. A monotonous existence isn’t so bad, really… is it? At least he isn’t leaving dead bodies in his wake anymore. (Yeah… he is doing Not Good)

Izzy has to convince Stede that he’s not useless. That he’s actually, sigh, a pretty good Captain by certain standards. Imagine Izzy trying to walk the line between his own stoic reticence, and actually saying nice encouraging things to the man that he hasn’t hated in a long time but is still so used to insulting. Izzy wasn’t even good at hyping up Ed who he legitimately adored admired. But fucks sake, he can’t let Stede just spiral into hopelessness, bury himself alive on land when Izzy knows that Stede has a sailor’s soul (even if he knows piss-all about proper sailing).

So Izzy stays at the boarding house. Maybe it’s fully booked because it’s tiny and can’t possibly have more than like a couple rooms, so Izzy has to stay with Stede. (#onlyonebed) In classic Stede fashion Stede does not ever talk out his problems and actively avoids the subject when Izzy tries to… so Izzy has to move slowly to gain Stede’s trust and bring the man out of himself. He helps out around the place (quietly doing the chores Ed used to bitch loudly about), supports Stede in his interactions with other people, even is actually polite to the other guests when Stede asks him not to scare anyone off. (Izzy wishes he had thought of that. If he had just scared ppl off immediately it would be easier to convince Stede to leave an empty ‘inn’). They spend many an evening in each other’s company, and obviously they talk. Bonner isn’t going to shut up entirely, even if he won’t talk about what matters. They get to know each other really well actually. Stede never felt a need to impress Izzy the way he was desperate to impress the famous Blackbeard. and Izzy isn’t like Ed, he doesn’t mold his personality to the people he is with, so he doesn’t share Ed’s insecurity about being liked or disliked for his real self. So there’s really no reason for either of them to hold back or hide anything. Neither of them could have guessed how easy it was, how comfortable they were able to be with each other. How well they mesh when they don’t have the task of managing Ed or the pressures of surviving a sea-faring life to get between them.

Also this mildly-depressed-Stede has let his beard and hair grow out and that really does something for Izzy.

#stizzy #gentlehands

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kalmiaphlox · 25 days

Text

Crash Landing

AO3 Link / Masterlist

Astarion has never been a bat before. He's never wanted to be a bat before, but a little sneeze is all it took for him to be stuck as a disgusting rodent.

Wait- He can fly!

But maybe flying isn't all it's cracked up to be...

Main Tags: Batstarion, FLUFF!, Dadstarion, Established Relationship

Waking up next to Astarion is a new experience every time, and this morning is no exception.

The moment she opens her eyes with a yawn, his head looms above hers, ruby eyes boring holes into her face as if she might dissolve into nothing if he looked away for even a moment.

“Any particular reason for being a weirdo this early?” Kalmia asks while placing a hand over his eyes, but he leans forward to nip at her fingers instead and once she pulls away, Astarion bares his teeth. “Ah, so no reason.”

“Do I need a reason when I'm with you, little wyrm?” He holds her wrist and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. “I just want to see every side of you, even when you snore louder than a dragon… Oh, wait…!”

She pinches his nose. “Awe, the vampire has learned comedy this morning. How fun.”

“I'll show you fu-” Astarion rears back, blinking in bewilderment. His nose scrunches up, sniffling before sneezing - violently.

She didn't even know vampires could sneeze.

Gone is the dastardly man with the killer good looks though. Just… gone from her sight. Kalmia sits up swiftly and an alarmed squeak brings her eyes down to the emerald green duvet. A fluffy white bat with overly large ears and a short, pink snout stares up at her with confused red eyes.

Well, isn't this something?

“My, oh my, irthiski, seems I'm not the only shape changer around.” She rubs at his fuzzy head with a finger, and in typical Astarion-fashion, he bares teensy fangs that shimmer like pearls. “What a cutie pie! I could eat you right up!”

That raises another squeak from him, though she can hear the rage burning behind it. How mighty it is, but a dragon does not cower from such things.

“You should be able to speak normally, come on, use your words.” Kalmia nudges him a bit too hard, knocking him over on the sheets. “Oops, sorry!”

There's little grumbling noises that sound suspiciously like speaking, he must be getting a grasp of this new body, it'll take time. Astarion is wobbling around best he can, using his wings as crutches to stand up, the little hook at the end catching on the bedding so he gets stuck, letting out more angry squeaks.

Oh gods, her heart might explode from the cuteness.

“I'm going to pick you up, can't have you tearing all the bedding.” Gingerly, Kalmia wraps her hand around his fuzzy body, picking him up and offering her other hand as support beneath his legs.

The grunting finally becomes audible, “You- What have you…” His lungs aren't at their usual capacity, a full sentence is a struggle. “What have you done, you witch?!”

“Oh, I turn you into a cat once and now it's my fault?”

“What in the…" He gasps, "hells am I?” His small head is angling around to get a look at himself, but she'll do him one better.

The Truesight mirror, its shiny reflection and lacquered wood encasing reveals all.

They stand now in front of it, holding her hands out so Astarion can gaze upon his visage - his favorite activity, but definitely not hers. “You're a bat, irthiski. I've heard vampires can do this sometimes, but maybe you're a late bloomer.”

“Late bloomer-!” He erupts into more enraged squeaks and growls, almost completely falling off her hand before his grabby feet latch onto her finger on instinct, dangling precariously upside down. “A damned bat! I don't want to be this! Where's my beautiful body?!”

Ignoring his dramatics and pressing a smooch to his head, she smiles widely. “I know someone who would be very excited to see this sight.” And they depart from their room, striding into Izmezine's where the girl is just waking up. “Good morning, anon ! Who do you think this is?”

Izzy sits up, blinking her bleary eyes and rubbing them with a big yawn, before scrunching her button nose to inspect the white ball of fluff in Kalmia's hands. Her lips form into a frown, turning her head away in disgust. “It's ugly.”

That was not the reaction I anticipated.

The wail of anguish that leaves his tiny bat body is very impressive, if not over-reactive. Setting Astarion down on the bed, Izzy pulls away slightly, what a terrible start but Kalmia will fix this. “Izmezine, sweetie, please, this is your father. He's turned into a bat by accident. Let's be nice.”

That gets Izzy to take a peek again, and she looks to Kalmia for confirmation. “T-Th-That’s my papa?”

“Yes.”

Poor Astarion is trembling against the bed, the words of his daughter like a stake straight through his heart, but at least he's stopped crying. Izzy reaches forward hesitantly, brushing a finger against his fur and she gasps, “He's s-soft!” She goes back in for a more gentle pet, “W-Why is papa a-a baby?”

Finally finding his words again, Astarion speaks up, “I don't know, I just turned into a bat, but kitten, you think I'm ugly ?” That last word barely makes it out as a squeak. Gods, he's going to be hung up on that for ages.

Izzy scrutinizes him further, golden eyes narrowing and appraising the bat before her. “Uhm, a l-little ugly?” Kids are always so blunt, Astarion should feel lucky that Izzy has enough sense to walk her statement back. The gold eyes turn up to her now, “Kalli, I'm hungry.”

“Me too, let's go have breakfast. What would you like?” Kalmia scoops up the whinging bat and places him on her shoulder, then holds Izzy against her hip.

“Cake!” Is Izzy's first breakfast suggestion.

“Normally I'd agree, but a cake takes a long time to make, how about we make one later and we can have some scones and jam now?”

The dhampir thankfully concedes to that idea and they settle in for an easy breakfast while bat-Astarion clumsily scrabbles along the counter, whining, “I'm hungry too, you know.”

Seems Kalmia isn't the only one that becomes ravenous when changed. “I'll get you food in a bit. Let me take care of my anon first.”

He collapses into a sad pile, crying endlessly, “My daughter thinks I'm ugly, my lizard is starving me. Where is the love?!”

Kalmia slathers some jam onto a scone, ignoring him, “Izzy, what would you like to do today?”

“Can p-papa go in my h-house?” She asks around a mouthful of food.

“Hmm,” Kalmia eyes the worming creature before her, the image of Astarion being stuffed into the doll house is hysterical, but… “I don't think he would like that. Bats are supposed to be able to fly, maybe we can help him learn.”

Both Izzy and Astarion perk up at that, their eyes shining with new possibilities. “You really think I can?” Astarion seems apprehensive at the prospect.

“I don't see why not, irthiski. We can try it out once you get some food.” With breakfast finished, Kalmia takes the bat downstairs, leaving Izzy with the task of gathering pillows and blankets. “What blood do you want?”

“Yours.”

She brings the bat in her hands close to her face, “If you have it now, you can't have it later.”

More grumbling follows, “Fine, get me a glass of the boar.”

Filling a goblet to the top, Kalmia rests them both on their desk. Astarion's little wing hooks grab onto the lip and he shimmies his little body up the length of it, long tongue lapping up the blood. She watches quietly with her head tucked between her hands as a red stain begins to bloom along his snout and neck as he drinks.

“Kalli! The-The blankies and p-pi-pillows are ready!” Izmezine shouts down the stairs.

Astarion pulls away, flopping down to the desk, “I'm full.” The goblet's halfway empty now, she's impressed by his apetite. They return upstairs now after a cleanup, finding the sitting room absolutely covered in blankets and pillows.

Setting her bat on the couch, Kalmia gives Izzy a big kiss on her cheek and squeezes her into a tight hug, “I knew I could count on you to go above and beyond! Wow, look at all this coziness!”

The girl giggles in her arms and Astarion pouts, crossing his wings in a pitiful stance, “What about me? ”

“I didn't forget you, irthiski!” Kalmia showers his tiny head in kisses and Izmezine does the same. He melts at their love. “I don't know how different it is from being a dragon, but my first time flying was… a little wild, you know? I think my mother just threw me off a cliff a few times until I got it. Be thankful for our care, Astarion.”

Izzy nods like she completely understands the lengths they are going to take care of him and he scoffs, “Your mother is a brute.” Kalmia only remembers those days with fondness, he wouldnt understand.

“No! Nafl i-is nice!” Izzy corrects him with a tap to the snout.

“I turn into a rodent and you both gang up against me? Where is the-”

Kalmia interrupts, “Enough. This should come somewhat naturally to you, but we'll start here on the couch and move up in height, ok? Now get to flapping.”

His beady little eyes glare at her and she just smiles sharply back. He's testy, big or small. With a despondent huff, Astarion shuffles along to the edge of the couch, stretching his leathery wings and shaking them out.

The first few attempts end with an immediate face plant to the ground, and while he may not admit it, Astarion is very thankful for the pillows now. The fifth attempt though? His wings find the right rhythm and angle, so he glides down to the end of their makeshift protections. More tries are made, his gliding and flapping now consistent.

Kalmia and Izzy erupt into applause, and she isn't quite sure if she imagines the blush on those little bat cheeks. “Higher now, Astarion?”

“Yes, yes!” He's glowing with pride at his newfound capabilities. Raising him up to the fireplace ledge, he huddles on the ledge peering down to the blanket laden ground. “Alright, I can do this.”

Izzy cheers from the sidelines, “Papa can f-fly!”

With one step, Astarion dives over the edge, flapping vigorously to maintain his height, and it sticks. He's flitting about excitedly, if not a little haphazardly, cackling gleefully. Kalmia, while very happy for Astarion, is concerned he's being too reckless. “ Irthiski, you should slow down and watch where you're going!”

His head whips to her, “Never! Nothing can sto-!” and he smashes head first into a wall, crumbling to a heap of bat limbs on the floor. Izzy shrieks, running over to his still form.

The downside to an undead partner? Can't really tell what kind of damage they've sustained because they don't breath or exhibit any of the normal symptoms.

Astarion is probably fine though.

I hope.

“Don't worry, Izzy, your father will be ok. He'll just need to… sleep that off.” Kalmia strokes the girl's head, whose eyes are welling with large tears. “We should find him somewhere to rest.” She is concerned that he's not changing back… but vampires don't die that easily, no matter how small they are.

Izzy zips downstairs and returns with two doll-sized beds, laying them down by the fireplace with extra bedding so it's very cozy. Kalmia assists in putting his bat-self onto the bed and covering him with blankets. “Kalli, m-ma-make a f-fire! Papa’s c-cold!” Stacking some logs, Kalmia breathes fire onto them, stoking the flames until the room is toasty. With a sniffle, Izzy lays out next to her father and rests her hand on him, “I take c-care of papa.”

“I know you will. You watch over him so I can get lunch started, ok? We can eat here.” Kalmia kisses her forehead before setting off to the kitchen.

It's always an adventure with them.

++++

Over an hour later, Izzy has fallen asleep looking after Astarion's limp body, which hasn't even twitched all this time.

Maybe it's time to take matters into her own hands.

Or fingers.

Pricking the tip of her index finger, Kalmia places it up against Astarion's bat snout, hoping the pooling blood will work like vampire smelling salts.

And of course it does, she should have thought of this earlier.

His snout wiggles side to side, seeking out the delicious scent before him, and begins licking at the drop the moment he makes contact. Red eyes blink open, looking haggard, “What- What happened?”

Kalmia picks up her sad bat, cradling him in her arms, “You crashed into the wall going much too fast. Izmezine took very good care of you, so you should thank her once she's up.”

“How do I change back? If I spend another moment like this, I'm going to become quite cross with-”

“Hush, you're always angry. I normally just think about being me, so maybe try that?”

Astarion goes silent for a while, so he must be trying anything to be himself again. Nothing happens though and he grumbles unhappily, “This is stupid. I don't want to be stuck as a flying rodent for the rest of my life. How will Izmezine be able to introduce me to people? ‘ Oh, come meet my father! The bat? Yes, that's him!’ Kalmia, I can't stay like this!”

“Shall I tickle your nose? A sneeze seemed to set it off the first time.”

His bat face goes through a range of emotions, before settling on sadness, “This is so unbecoming, but fine. Do it.”

Kalmia locates a feather pretty quickly, Gale has quills laying out everywhere, and lightly shuffles the tip across Astarion's nose. His nose wrinkles but nothing happens, and he folds in on himself in defeat.

“I'm sorry, irthiski. We'll figure something out.” She does feel terribly for him, nothing is worse than being stuck in a form at the wrong time. She knows it well.

“Mmm, papa?” Izzy’s sleep laden voice pulls their attention as she starts grabbing at the doll beds, but realizes nothing is there, so she shoots up, alarmed. “Papa?! Wh-Where are y-you?”

“I have him, anon, it's ok.”

Crawling over, Izzy pets her father, also seeming sad that he's still stuck like this. Who's going to read the bedtime story for them?

But if Astarion continues to be a bat, might as well take advantage of this opportunity. “You know, Izzy, I think he's kind of dirty. We should bathe him.”

The girl's eyes light up, “Yes!”

“What?! What do you think-” Astarion begins to shout.

Kalmia presses a finger against his snout. “You've been outvoted. Accept your fate.”

He whines and complains all the way downstairs, and once the bath is filled a few inches deep, she settles the little bat in. Izzy gets to work swiftly, wetting his fur and carefully working in the shampoo. Kalmia assists from the sidelines, but Izzy has it handled.

Astarion's taking this with as much grace as possible, letting Izmezine do as she pleases, because there is never a world in which he would deny her.

But this time must come to an end, it seems.

He makes a strange noise, like a sharp intake of breath, and sneezes, splashing water everywhere when a vampire reappears where a bat once sat.

His resting clothes are soaked and Astarion is absolutely covered in soap, hair flattened against his head as he sneers at the two of them. ‘You two have had a lot of fun today. I think daddy needs some payback.” Izzy and Kalmia both shriek with laughter as they attempt to run, but Astarion grabs them both, dragging them into the tub, turning the water on. “If I had to suffer, then so should you!”

Once they're all soaking wet and giggling, they climb out of the bathtub, drying off, Kalmia has a new idea. “Ready to make a cake, Izzy?”

The girl jumps up and down in excitement, “I w-want pink frosting!”

“Any requests, irthiski?”

He runs a towel over Izzy's curls, “One of Gale's nice bottles of wine. I'm just… going to lie down, my body hurts.”

Kalmia laughs, “You'll get used to it.”

“Ugh, I sure hope not. If I never turn into a rodent again, it will still be too soon.”

++++

Notes:-anon = flower (draconic) -nafl (short for nafldask) = grandmother (draconic)

#astarion #bg3 #dadstarion #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fic #ao3 #astarion ancunin #batstarion

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bookshelfdreams · 2 months

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There were two great posts about Izzy yesterday, and I would like to expand on and add my 2 ct to the things said in them a little. One, by @celluloidbroomcloset (with additions by several others), about how Izzy immediately falls back into old patterns of manipulative behaviour after his supposed redemption in 02x07, only this time with Stede as the focus of said behaviours instead of Ed. The other, by @batsarebetterthanpeople, about how Izzy's behaviour in 02x06 and onward is more akin to the development a homophobe coming around to a queer loved one, than an arc of queer self-discovery.

Izzy's story isn't about himself. I think this is the first, fundamental mistake people make when engaging with it. He's not a protagonist; he doesn't exist in the story for his own sake. So when ofmd asks "How to reform a toxic person? What does it look like and is it even possible?", the starting point isn't one of empathy with Izzy.

It's one of empathy with Ed. ofmd is asking these questions not because it wants to understand Izzy better. What it wants to explore is the possibility of Ed having the relationship with Izzy Ed wants. Whether Izzy can be brought around to understanding Ed's wants and needs, whether he can understand the hurt he caused him.

This is a fundamentally different approach to how these stories are usually told. Usually, we start out with the unspoken assumption that the toxic person is well-intentioned, good at heart, and whatever pain they caused our protagonist is more akin to a misunderstanding than deliberate harm. Yes, they may have have caused hurt, but if you just see things from their perspective, you'll understand that they only had your best interest in mind, and that will enable you to forgive them.

Obviously this can't not veer off into victim blaming. "The abuser had a good reason for what they did, and therefore, it's your own fault. Or at the very least not theirs."

ofmd fundamentally rejects this. It is very careful to never let the bullies and abusers have a valid point. Abusers are abusive because they get something out of it. To truly reform an abuser, they would have to be willing to build a life for themselves that is a lot less comfortable. Where they have to consider other's feelings, communicate and compromise, meet other people on equal footing, instead of putting themselves in a position of authority. It means letting go of patterns of behaviour that they have so far been quite successful with*.

And Izzy - tries. He is interesting because part of him clearly wants to leave the toxicity behind. He gets to see what positive relationships, human connection, being part of a community look like; he's offered an outstretched hand, and, after biting it a few times, tentatively starts to take it.

But he can't quite get there. The temptation to fall back into what he knows is too strong. celluloidbroomcloset's post linked above talks mainly about 02x07, so I'm not gonna repeat all that, but I'm going to add two little scenes from 02x06 that further cement this. In the beginning of the episode, Izzy finds Ed as he's standing on deck, watching the sea, and the conversation that plays out is a clear mirror to, almost repeat of the Frankfurter clouds scene from 01x04. Ed tries to share an observation with Izzy in an attempt to reach out to him ("Something's wrong. Feels like a storm's coming but I can't see it."), which Izzy, of course, immediately dismisses ("Or maybe you're just a mopey twat and there is no fucking storm").

The second scene is, when Izzy is the only one discouraging Ed from following Stede to his cabin after he kills Ned Lowe. Discouraging support, discouraging connection and emotional honesty; Izzy will continue to try to isolate Stede.

Now, I do not think this, or the things happening in 02x07, are put in there deliberately to show that Izzy has ulterior motives. Rather, they are an illustration of how deep these maladaptive patterns of behaviour go. Izzy isn't able to fully admit to himself the extend of the harm he caused and this is what prevents him from truly changing his behaviour - even when he has just experienced the benefits of a loving, supportive community!

All of this is the explanation to the answer the show gives to our starting question: Is it possible for Ed to have the relationship with Izzy that Ed wants? And the answer is: No. Just because growth is possible, doesn't mean it is enough. Doesn't mean anyone's entitled to forgiveness. Sometimes, the only compassionate thing to do, is to take yourself permanently out of the other person's life.

But Izzy did learn, and he did grow. It's just that the purpose of said growth wasn't to heal him; it was to enable him to understand the hurt he caused to Ed. That doesn't have to mean people like Izzy can never be reformed, it just means that this isn't a story about the reformation of a toxic person. It's the story of leaving this toxicity behind.

And this is why Izzy's heartfelt apology followed by his immediate death is a positive ending. It represents the conviction that no relationship is so broken it can't be mended, but also the assurance that no relationship is so important it can't be ended.

Ed gets to hear the things he needs to hear most - I am sorry, I was wrong, you didn't deserve this - and then Izzy disappears from his life, and with him, all the toxicity he represents.

They can part on good terms, but part they must. So Ed can go into the rest of his life, unburdened.

*read Lundy Bancroft's "Why does he do that", seriously. The whole thing is on archive.org.

#overall izzy is treated with so much more grace and kindness than the other toxic assholes on this show #because sometimes youre fond of them. right. you DO want to make it work its just not always possible #honestly i think some people just have a very hard time wrapping their head around the fact that izzy is just a narrative device #anyway!#our flag means death #izzy hands #edward teach #thoughts

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celluloidbroomcloset · 7 months

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A good bit has been made of Ed saying that "last night was a mistake" and I get the sense that a lot of people are interpreting things through a lens that he means they shouldn't have slept together, they should have waited, Stede was pushing things too far too fast, etc. So I want to go into some detail on why I don't agree with that, and what I think is happening in the aftermath of Calypso's Birthday, as well as in the love scene itself.

(This is kinda long, because I am not witty and cannot be brief. These are just my thoughts, so of course I'm not trying to tell anyone how to understand what happens in these scenes.)

Them having sex and what happens after is very much related to the things that they've both gone through, and especially Ed's fears and trauma after his depressive spiral. When we first meet Ed in Season 1, he's already borderline suicidal. Stede gives him a new view of life by showing him things that he's never seen before, and emotions he's never experienced before. He falls in love and anchors himself to Stede. Then his anchor breaks and lets him float off. He's alone and heartbroken and quite literally goes insane with grief and self-loathing (spurred on by Izzy) on a ship filled with people and things that keep reminding him of how he wasn't enough.

In Season 2, he knows that if he goes back to being Blackbeard, again, after everything, he might very well never be able to come back. He's still terrified of Stede abandoning him, and I think the fact that he did consent to the sex, that he did want to have sex, that he did feel loved and desired and happy, is a huge part of that. He says it was a mistake because he wanted it so much and got exactly what he wanted and is afraid that, again, he's going to lose the person who made him feel like he was enough. So he's doing exactly what Stede says he's doing - panicking and trying to run this time, so that he's not the one who gets hurt again. That's not the same as truly regretting the night before; it actually says that them sleeping together meant so much that it's frightened him because now he stands to lose even more. (If losing Stede once ripped him apart, after they had just barely kissed and admitted they care for each other, what would losing Stede now do to him?)

Should they have waited? Doesn't really matter. They didn't. Are they overwhelmed with emotion? Well, yeah. There have been other posts floating around discussing the relationship between sex and death and the concept of funeral sex, which are quite accurate IMO.

But...I'd say the moment when Stede first grabs Ed at the door is the "overwhelmed with emotion" part. Remember that Stede has killed before, accidentally, and is absolutely wracked with guilt by it. The guilt is also associated with Ed and with his masculinity/sexuality - "you defile beautiful things" - and Ned's words earlier poked those wounds. The last thing that Ed said to Stede before he killed Ned was not to do it because "you can't come back from that." So Stede does what he did before - he runs and hides. But he's not alone anymore. Ed shows up. He's not angry, he's not rejecting Stede or lecturing Stede; nothing has fundamentally changed in their relationship because Stede killed Ned. He's there to say, "Hey, it's OK, it's hard, I know, I've been there." Stede is overwhelmed with emotion - guilt at what he's done and all its associations with his past, fear that he's ruined something in his relationship (defiled a beautiful thing), uncertainty about what this means about him as a person. And there's Ed, standing there and saying "Are you OK?" Nothing has been defiled.

It's not Ed who crosses the threshold - maybe Stede needs his space and really doesn't need his sympathy right now, so he waits there and doesn't invade the space - but Stede who grabs him and drags him across. That's the impulsive moment, not the sex. Ed is surprised by it, as we can see on his face, and Stede is in pain and almost crying. He seems incapable of speech at that moment, which says a lot about his state of mind since this is a man who cannot shut up. He's not behaving rationally or thinking things through deliberately; he's coming apart and Ed's there and Ed holds him together.

Now, the next cut could've been to Stede throwing Ed down on the bed or kissing him aggressively (as, indeed, has happened in plenty of shows and films with these kinds of scenes). But that's not what happens. The next cut is to the end of the impulsive moment, Stede backing Ed up against the wall. Then there's a pause. Both of them are recalibrating. Stede in fact keeps his distance (wish we could actually see their expressions up close), and he waits. He's done something he likely shouldn't have in grabbing Ed; he's stopping himself from doing anything else he shouldn't. He's making a choice and it's an important one, just like when he stopped the kiss when Ed told him to, when he stopped saying "I love you" because Ed couldn't hear it, or when he asked if it was OK to hold Ed's hand. He didn't do anything wrong in being impulsive, and he's waiting for his partner to help him know what to do next.

Could Ed say no at that point? Yes, absolutely, and we know from the moonlight scene that Stede would not try to go farther. Would Ed say no at that point, with the knowledge of how much this man needs him? Yes, I think he would. I don't think this is a case of Ed going "well, he needs this, so I'll sleep with him." That interpretation I think undermines Ed's autonomy and misunderstands his character - he's not going to do something that he doesn't want to, not even for Stede, and he's not going to damage their relationship by having their first time be a result of pity or sympathy. It's going to be about mutual desire, or it's not going to happen at all.

That pause is where they look at each other (again, wish we could see expressions better) and Ed nods. And even then, when Stede leans in to kiss him, it's not Stede who increases the intensity. I think we could even read this as Stede not consciously planning for the kiss to lead to sex. It's Ed who grabs Stede, pulls him up against him, lets his body support Stede's, who's practically collapsing. It's Ed who snatches Stede's waist and wraps his arm around his shoulders and caresses his neck.

I think it's really important that Ed is the one who ups the intensity. His actions are pretty much the definition of enthusiastic consent. That's needed for the scene, just like all the other scenes where Stede stops when Ed tells him to. It's Ed who wanted to take it slow and so now his choice to go ahead is necessary. There's no indication that this is rushed or only a result of passion and pain.

The next scene, Stede is closing the curtains, and he's shirtless, but Ed is still mostly dressed (and no, that is not the face of a man having second thoughts or being pressured into sex. That's the face of a man who's so in love he can't see anything but fireworks). What's happening is very deliberate on both their parts, and the entire scene is a culmination of their desires and - very importantly - their love for each other. It's not Stede needing comfort or validation and Ed rewarding him with sex. It's them both needing, wanting, and loving each other.

It's really tempting to make this all more angst-y than it is, especially with Ed's later "last night was a mistake!" But once more, this silly gay pirate show gets at something that a lot of less silly films and TV shows don't - that human relationships are messy and complex, and messiness and complexity are not inherently Problematic. Just human.

Tl;dr: seems like neither of them regretted having sex, and not just because it was definitely good sex.

#ofmd season 2 #ofmd s2 #ofmd spoilers #ofmd meta #stede bonnet #ed teach #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #yes i have feelings about the silly gay pirate show #and must write essays about them #our flag means death

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cononeillbreastingboobily · 8 months

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Thoughts and feelings about Izzy in s2ep4 and what it means to me as a fellow disabled person:

Yeah, so, that episode, huh?

You know, I already knew going into this new season that Izzy's storyline is going to hit me hard regardless of the exact little plot points it might have, but it's only now, several hours after I've watched eps 4&5 that I'm really starting to digest what his story means to me in it's current shape. This is... a bit long. I also mention a character from a different show - Isaac from Sex Education.

Izzy has always been a bit of a dick, right? That's the reason a lot of people hated him in the first season.

Well, now he is a bit of a dick and disabled. And let me tell you how fucking ecstatic I am about that.

You see, looking for disabled characters in media I consume has rarely been gratifying - if they are there at all, which already is rare, they have very little to do, and if they're even semi-important, they're almost always the epitomes of goodness. Nice, understanding, quiet, patient.

Barely there.

The first time I truly felt something change in this area was with the appearance of Isaac in Netflix's Sex Education. He's sarcastic, funny, talented, honest and mean.

The fandom of that show hated Isaac, let me tell you.

It was mostly because he took direct action to separate the main ship of the show that had many people obsessed. As you'd expect. People's ableism immediately jumped out. As you'd expect.

Because how dare he have his own motivations and wants, and to do what he thinks is right?

Barely there.

And now we have Izzy. Izzy, who also did what he thought was right, which in s1 of the show was trying to separate Ed and Stede. He wasn't trying to make himself too likeable at any point (well. when the crew almost mutinied on him in s1 he did do a last ditch effort but. you remember how well that went).

My point is that now we have someone who isn't particularly nice, and now he's dealing with a sudden loss of ability in his body, which is going to make him even worse. He's angry! Of course he is! He's hobbling around with half a leg gone, humiliated, exhausted, barely recovered from impromptu amputation, no anesthesia. And a suicide attempt! He's angry at himself, his body, at Ed, at Stede, at God if he still believes in one, and who knows who else.

He isn't suddenly going to become nicer to people just because. He doesn't need to be humbled.

(a little sidenote: I do not accept the reasoning that Izzy somehow deserved to lose his leg, that "oh what did he expect riling up Ed when he was heartbroken?" etc. He wasn't expecting to get shot in the fucking leg. Nobody fucking deserves that, and if you think that Ed shooting him in the leg and Izzy subsequently having to have it amputated was an "appropriate punishment" for "what he's done", you're just cruel and wrong. Now scram.)

But that's the point. Disabled people deserve help regardless of whether or not we are nice.

Thankfully (not from Izzy's point of view - his pride was definitely bruised in that moment) the crew saw him struggle, and acted in kind. Because Izzy is their dick. And now - also their unicorn.

And it means so much to me that we get the representation of disabled people who thrash around and rattle the bars of their societal cages, furious at the world that isn't welcoming to us, and receive love and care and an invitation to a loving community regardless.

We shouldn't have to be here just when ableds are ready to give. We aren't meek vessels for your good will. Izzy is such a painfully realistic (as far as the universe of the show permits, given it's unavoidable goofiness) portrayal of the anger of someone who's lost some of their body's past ability, and how one might deal with it.

And I really wanted to say something about that, because I'm afraid it might get lost in the discussion about the more popular and more easily digestible aspects of the show.

#ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #long post #disability #ableism #disability in media #tw suicide attempt #ofmd meta #ofmd s2 meta

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bougiebutchbinch · 28 days

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I AM THINKING THOUGHTS

specifically

asexual Izzy who thinks sex is the only way he can access Those Sweet Snuggles And Aftercare

he's trying SO HARD to repair things between him and ed and stede in the aftermath of S2, where they've all survived and are setting up a cute, doomed domestic future in their inn

only... he's still drowning in insecurity that ed and stede would be far better off as a pair without him, wondering whether he should've died, fretting that he's going to ruin everything again

so he decides, as the KING of fucked-up acts of service, that the best way to Make This Work and for him not to fall back into destructive past patterns is to.... never say no to anything that Stede and Ed want to do. Including sex.

Obviously, this doesn't end well.

[very, very poor communication leading to rape, internalised aphobia]

Izzy has, crucially, never been in a relationship before. He's had sex quite a few times, but even when consensual it was always a bit miserable and traumatic. He didn't enjoy it, and privately worries that a part of him is broken because he didn't enjoy it.

But he'll enjoy it with Ed and Stede! Because he loves them! He's sure of it!

Only then, they try and...

And Izzy hates it.

He just hates himself more, for not being able to give them this. Because he loves them - he does. What's wrong with him? Why can't he just stop being a scared little prude and relax and let them love him, too?

Ed and Stede like sex. They really like sex - they have it together LOADS, with or without Izzy's involvement. Izzy's desperate not to be left out, and determined not to be the stone in this mechanism, ruining everything for the men he loves.

Thankfully, he's a massive masochist! It's easy to internalise that sex with them is his 'punishment' for breaking them up that one time, and something he simply has to grit his teeth and suffer through so they'll hold him, after! And if he breaks down sobbing most of the time and starts whimpering 'sorry, sorry, sorry'.... well, he'll insist shamefaced that it's a shitty reaction to old trauma, if either of them ask - or that it's cathartic for him, or some shit. Nothing to do with Ed or Stede personally, or wanting them to stop. He loves them. He wants to be with them. In every way. He promises.

Meanwhile, Ed and Stede are terrified that if they 'leave Izzy out', they'll be the ones ruining everything. So, they're sure to give him as much physical affection as they give each other! Ed thinks he's 'making up for lost time', and presumes this is what Izzy wanted from him all along but was too stuck in his ways to ask for. Stede is delighted to be discovering The Joys Of Gay Sex, and wants to share the pleasure and experience everything imaginable with Izzy.

Izzy is. Suffering.

Still, he's genuinely kinky and enjoys pain. The obvious answer is for him to ask them to tie him up and gag him while they fuck him so he won't accidentally say anything 'silly' like "No, please, stop."

Stede and Ed are kinda.... wary, because that's pretty hardcore! What if Izzy decides he doesn't want this, part way through? But Ed admits he's fooled around with Jack a few times in a similar way (though of course, that was heartily consensual) and Stede has read a few.... interesting books on the subject of darker flavours of lust, and so, after a whispered conversation, they agree to give Izzy what he 'needs'.

It's a lot easier to bear sex when it's about pain, not pleasure and intimacy and all those other things Izzy struggles to feel when he's got another body pushing inside of his.

Only problem is... Ed and Stede don't particularly enjoy hurting him like that. Especially not Ed, who's looking closer to a breakdown every time Izzy hopefully pulls out the gag after Ed intiates sex. Reluctantly, Izzy agrees to save the ropes and gag for when they're feeling, as Ed puts it 'spicy' - special occasions, not every day - and goes back to letting his lovers treat him like he's something special (he's not he's not he's not) while every touch only makes him feel more like a cracked glass a single bump away from shattering.

Maybe a part of Izzy 'communication is NOT my middle name' Hands expects them to notice and WANTS them to notice, but a far bigger part is absolutely desperate to hide how much he's Not Liking This. It becomes an immensely fucked-up challenge for him, to prevent Stede and Ed from knowing they're hurting him more with all this gentle, tender missionary, than that time he got them to flog his back bloody, that was actually the closest he came to enjoying their time together in bed. Unfortunately, for all their flaws, Ed and Stede are both observant, and even (occasionally) emotionally intelligent. So when Izzy starts devolving into a shaking wreck who cringes from them even as he tries to enjoy their touches, they do notice.

But every time Ed and Stede try to start an honest conversation on the topic of intimacy, Izzy clams right up and insists everything's fine.

This is fucking devastating to Ed and Stede because... they can't keep going like this. They've worked so hard - Ed especially! - to get to a point in their lives where they're happy and not hurting anyone. But Ed knows a thing or two about using other people to self-destruct, and looking at Izzy at the moment is like looking in a warped mirror. It's making him have almost as many breakdowns as Izzy, eaten alive with guilt and horror for all the shit he's done, all the people he's hurt, how he's hurt Izzy so awfully in the past (how it feels like he's hurting him still, though Izzy insists he wants it; Izzy insists he's okay...)

Eventually, for the sake of Ed's crumbling mental health, he and Stede sit down with Izzy and tearfully confess that they love him. They really do. But this isn't working out. Izzy isn't happy, and that's making them unhappy. They can't go on like this or they're all going to suffer.

Once they finish speaking, Izzy just. Crumples. And sobs. He's so stressed. He's so tired. He's so nervous and twitchy and flighty and he doesn't know why. He's tried SO HARD to make this work (by sacrificing his own happiness over and over and over, thinking it's inherently worth less than Ed and Stede's, refusing to believe that they couldn't be happy unless he's happy too).

And he's FAILED. Like he fails at every fucking thing.

Stede and Ed just. Look at each other. Like 'uhhhh I think we're missing something here'.

Once they finally get Izzy to tearfully confess that he just doesn't like sex and doesn't think he ever will they're like. Oh. Oh that's easy. We just won't have sex? You can still watch us if you don't wanna feel left out, or just hang in the room while we fuck, but you don't have to be involved? And the two of them get really excited and puppyish because oh my gosh this is a thing we can actually fix, maybe we don't have to break up after all?

But then Izzy is so embarrassed about how SIMPLE they made the solution and how he couldn't see it himself that he determines that they're better off without him after all, and runs away in the middle of the night to give them a 'fresh start'

To which, duh, Stede and Ed set off after him, because they're NOT gonna let Izzy sacrifice himself AGAIN for 'their' sake. The little twat.

There will be a happy ending but it'll take a while and they'll have to chase Izzy all over the seven seas to convince him to give their threesome another chance. The end.

#steddyhands #izzy hands #ofmd izzy #ofmd #stizzy #edizzy #ed teach #gentlebeard #stede bonnet #ofmd stede #ofmd edward teach #our flag means death #my fic #bbb creates

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