Chapter Text
Ed sprawled out on the overstuffed and overly comfortable couch with his knees drawn up and the laptop perched on them at a precarious angle. It tipped to one side as he saw the little blinking curser silently yelling at him that it hadn’t moved more than a few inches in over an hour. The text before it bland and lifeless as most of the rest of the stupid fucking book that he was supposed to be writing, and it was an effort to squeeze out even a few more words to fill the space. He ignored the little counter in the bottom left corner that proclaimed the document only had 2,990 words out of the 100,000 words it was supposed to be holding.
Instead, he dragged his eyes down to his phone and began aiming the little bubble cannon to shoot out more of the matching colors at the top of the screen. The game cheerfully pinging at him in a far more engaging past time than trying to write out yet another story about some muscle bound, throbbing, horse-cocked man about to rail another man. How many times could he write about a dick going into another man before his brain finally leaked out of his ear?
Five years ago he would have had a neat outline ready to go for the book and pages of inspiration opened on the computer. Ten years ago he probably could have churned out the pages within a few days and have it ready to go to his editor. Fifteen years ago he probably would have been sitting here naked and working out the scene with an amiable partner bound up on the bed for his own personal amusement. Now, he sat in the middle of his loft playing a game in one hand and doing his best to ignore the messages that kept popping up on his phone.
IzzyFuckingHands: Can you at least send a rough draft? Something? Anything?
Ed: I sent you the rough draft last week.
IzzyFuckingHands: That wasn’t a draft! That was the word cock written over 200,000 times!
Ed: Well it’s basically as good as the last fucking book!
IzzyFuckingHands: Jesus, Edward, get something for me to turn in or you’re going to be in breech of fucking contract! And something other than the word cock pasted over and over again!
Ed twitched his lips in a slight smirk at that, he hadn’t been that proud of delivering the manuscript to Izzy, but the man deserved it. He knew that he had a contract in place, he knew that he had been paid an obscene amount for a set of five books, but nothing was coming out.
When he’d begun to write erotic stories for underground gay magazines back in the early nineties it had been so damn hot. He’d been able to drag out fetishes that were still taboo and present them to anyone that wanted to snag a copy. Some of them had been half a biography of his life. He’d been young and drunk on freedom and exploring his own interests, it had poured into stories that had reflected that.
He missed that time, when everything had been new and he had been running wild through various cities. He missed that he’d had an insane amount of fun and had wanted to experience everything. Most of his short stories had been written about the sort of nights he’d had, when he’d found out about BDSM and the leather underground. When he’d been willing to try just about anything once. Those early stories were something he was still proud of, a journey of self discovery that had been a landmark in the LGBTQ+ community for over two decades.
And now I write smut with copy and paste characters and all the passion of one of those stupid soft core shows. He groaned and tipped his head backwards, rubbing his fingers against his eyes.
It was boring, it was idiotic. There was no real challenge to it anymore, he felt as though he were repeating the same words and acts over and over again with different names. He had even done that once, he’d taken an older book and changed names and a few key points, and it had still sold well. And given the way the internet had begun to allow anyone to publish just about anything, the only reason people snapped up his newest books were simply because he was Blackbeard.
Fuck I wish I wasn’t. He thought as his phone began to buzz and he stared down at Izzy’s outraged face and middle finger flashing across the screen.
He hit the ignore button decisively. Izzy had been the one that had dragged him from something of an underground legend and into the wider world. Sex sold, even during the Recession, he had never lacked for money rolling in thanks to book sales. His writing had shifted from the daring and edgy filth of his youth to something that was wrapped in a pretty silk bow and sold in normal book stores as ‘romance’ novels. Fucking romance. Like that damn Fifty Shades book that had housewives swooning, except his ran strictly towards the gay end of the spectrum.
The phone buzzed again as Izzy called and he glared, wanting to toss it into the corner and ignore it, but then he would likely show up. It was easier to deal with the man on the phone than in person, especially if he was riled up enough to begin immediately calling. At least then he had the option to hang up when he was through with the argument, and it would let him move even further away from the stupid laptop.
“Hey Izzy..” He answered and tried to sound as cheerful as he could when what he wanted to do was abandon the phone and flee his loft.
“Fucking Christ, Ed, how much have you got written? And did you even look at the adaptation I sent over?” Izzy’s rasping voice was harsh and unforgiving, like always.
“I’ve got a bit written.” He said and tried to sound like it wasn’t a lie. Four pages was a bit right? “And I haven’t looked at it, it’s stupid. Why the fuck do I have to look at it?”
“Because it’s your story they’re making into the damn show, and you got pissy they were going to rework it into a script. Remember?!”
Oh, that was right, he’d actually forgotten that little tidbit. The streaming services had been jumping on the near soft-core porn shows ever since that show with all the dragons had come out. Or was it vampires? He didn’t know, but they’d snagged up one of his older books with the hopes of turning it into some sort of series. If it had been something newer, he wouldn’t have cared so much, but the older writing… He had once enjoyed that.
“Oh, yeah.” He mumbled and sighed out. “Fine, okay, I’ll look at it. You’re not helping by calling here, you know.”
“I know that, but you’re on a deadline, damnit!” Izzy snapped. “Have you gotten around to signing anything?”
“You haven’t dropped me off anything to sign!” He responded with irritation and hung his head upside down on the couch.
“Not that, you twat, remember? You’re signing your book in a few stores and we’ll leak it to your social media account.” Iz snapped out and Ed began to feel the start of a headache. “Easy publicity and all you gotta do is hit the stores I marked for you.”
“And if someone sees me?” Ed growled the words out in real irritation. “The last time we did this I was nearly caught. Can’t you just deliver the books here and go hide them?”
“No I can’t fucking do that because you won’t fucking sign them!”
Ed huffed out a breath and sighed as he began to slide off of the couch, untucking his legs and setting his laptop to one side. It was one of Izzy’s favorite little gimmicks to have him secretly sign books or merchandise and bolt before social media got it. When he’d been in his early twenties he hadn’t cared who knew he ran under the penname Blackbeard. He’d just done it because it had been a bit edgy and sounded better than Edward Teach, but over the years he had taken pains to be sure that no one really knew his real name. Where he lived or came from. Even his own voice.
“Right, fine, resend the stupid addresses and I’ll go sign some things.” He said in a defeated voice, not relishing the chance of being caught.
“Ed, I know you’re burnt out, but it’s just two more books and the series.” Izzy relented finally, sounding a bit more sympathetic. “Then you can take a fucking vacation, alright?”
“I need more than a vacation, Iz.” Ed said as he searched around for a pair of pants to pull on. He vaguely remembered he’d been rather pissed off at pants this morning. “I need out of this shit. It’s the same thing over and over and over.”
It’d once been thrilling to be Blackbeard, to have been known for writing deeply erotic and vibrant stories of lust and love. He’d thrown himself into that persona, even to the point of growing out a beard, despite the fact the name hadn’t even come from his fucking facial hair. Black for the hanky code and beard because of the way that term had been used in the gay community. Now he just wanted to be left alone and be done with podcasts and interviews over the phone, to dropping his accent to sound American and to stop staring at a screen that painfully described foot long cocks and nipple clamps.
“Ed, you’re good at this, hell, you’re one of the best. You’re finally hitting mainstream, that’s a big deal.” Izzy said, but it wasn’t unkind, the man could be a dick, but they’d been together a long time.
“I want to write something that means something, man. I want..” Ed trailed off and sighed as he found a pair of black jeans to wriggle into, twisting and contorting himself a bit with a grunt. “I want to just stop writing kink after kink. It doesn’t mean anything anymore, it’s just fucking and no plot.”
“You’re just tired, Ed.” Izzy answered and then sighed. “Would it help if you just went public? You used to be okay with that.”
“Fuck. No.” Ed snapped out angrily and tried to rein in his temper. “I already get freaky fuckin’ fanmail, I don’t need them finding where I live or throwing their cum towels at me.”
“We have a company that sorts your fanmail, now, and other people-“
“No fuckin’ way, Iz. I’ll play American, I’ll schmooze on the phone and on podcasts, but I’m not goin’ down that road. Now, send me the damn list and I’ll go trot myself out like a good little puppy and do some tricks.”
“C’mon Ed..” Iz began and his voice was actually sympathetic, which just pissed Edward off more before he hung up the call.
Two more books and get the series off the ground, he was in his late forties, wasn’t it time to retire? It wasn’t like he didn’t have the money to be more than comfortable, and his books would continue to sell. And then maybe he could do something that he actually enjoyed for once, like writing a story with some meat in it. He could remember that, pounding out words in a wild rush to music that swam around him. He could remember standing in the shower and mentally narrating the story to himself, where what he wanted to write was laid out so plainly.
He had done it once, done a passion project and a trilogy of books that hadn’t just been smut with the bare bones of plot put to it. It had been filled with emotion and adventure, something that had made him wet eyed as he had killed off one character. He’d never been so inspired before, he doubted he would ever feel that again, not when he had convinced Izzy to have it published, but not under the Blackbeard name or brand. It had simply been himself Edward Teach and he had been so damn proud of it.
It hadn’t been a total loss, copies had sold, but if it had been any other writer putting out the book, they wouldn’t have requested a follow up to the first one. He had never toured with it or had interviews, it was just a blip for the publishing company now. He had gone back to writing what sold with his tail between his leg and a feeling very like heartbreak. The few reviews it had gotten were positive, but a story with gay heroes and a path of finding out their identities instead of outright smut didn’t quite find its audience. It was the last time he'd put himself out there, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t hope.
~ ~ * ~ ~
Ed peeled his helmet off as he parked his bike just outside of the sprawling set of upscale stores that he’d gotten the address for. Izzy had put together a mix of seedy book stores that could use a bit of promotion and upscale ones that bored wealthy people might show up to. His books were scattered in the romance section, the ones that he had written lately anyway that weren’t as sordid as his earlier ones. At least it hadn’t taken long to get in and out after signing a few, and no one had cornered him asking what the fuck he thought he was doing.
That last time.. ugh, at least they let me go with buying what I ‘defaced’ He thought with irritation and swung his leg up and over his bike with a stretch.
Ed: There, stop bitching, I did the signing shit you wanted me to. Go ahead and post it on my socials.
IzzyFuckingHands: Congratulations on doing the bare minimum of your fucking job.
Ed: Fuck off, I’m turning my phone off.
And he did just that, jamming it back into his pocket and glancing at the little shop that he liked to stop in lately. He had never really been a big one for tea, but the place always smelled good and the baked goods were fantastic. He’d begun to stop there often, sometimes even dragging his laptop in with him because it was better than being at home. It was a sort of eclectic sort of place that he loved, filled with all sorts of bits of furniture that made people want to relax.
“Hey, Roach!” He called out as he pushed in with a little shake and crinkled his nose. “Mate, it reeks in here, you burnin’ somethin’?!”
“Say that again!” Roach snapped from behind the counter, eyes narrowing, but a smile teased his lips lightly even as he waved a rather large and sharp looking knife.
“Not my fault you experiment and it turns out wrong.” He teased lightly and raised his hands up a little bit. “Chai?”
“Should say no.” The man growled, but good heartedly as he began to ring Ed up. “Are all you Australians so mean?”
“What did you say?” Ed growled the words out and narrowed his eyes, but he saw that Roach was smug that he’d gotten the insult in. “Lucky I don’t one star review you.”
He exchanged a bit of banter as he got his chai, so sweet and filled with cream that it always cheered him up and secured a very large cinnamon topped muffin. It wasn’t the healthiest lunch, but at least it made him feel good as he flopped down in a spot near the back and dragged out his laptop. He should at least try and get the two characters to the fucking part of the fucking story. At least this was just some straight up light bondage, quick and easy to write out.
Between eating and sipping his tea, he worked out a few more thousand words, trying his best to not think about the fact he had used all of these phrases before. It was so bad, that his program kept autofilling helpful suggestions based on what he’d previously written. Perhaps he could play around with all of that AI stuff and make it churn out his style writing, wouldn’t that be hilarious? It’d be perfect, and piss Izzy off as a bonus.
He had finished his muffin and had begun to think about packing it in when he realized that he was being quite intently stared at. At first, he thought it was just one of the posh suburbanites taking exception to the fact he looked a bit like a biker and was sprawled in their café. But, that was starting to become a bit of a ‘look’ in recent years so it couldn’t be that. He ignored it as he tried to finish up the scene, glancing up a few times at the blonde that was perched in a corner booth.
The man kept looking away and then flicking his gaze right back at Edward and fixing him with long stares the moment he was distracted. He felt his heart sink as he realized the man was also drumming his fingers against a book in a nervous flutter of fingers. He’d seen him before, at least a couple of times in the past, hard to miss him actually. He was well put together and groomed, all together a handsome man with an easy smile that he remembered from a couple of weeks ago. He’d briefly enjoyed watching him out of the corner of his eye, but today he just felt uneasy and unhappy.
Fuck me, he knows who I am. He thought with a twist in his gut and carefully began to close his laptop.
It happened, he didn’t announce his name or allow himself to be photographed or seen as Blackbeard in public, but when he’d been younger he had let the world know. That had been before the internet, but things did occasionally leak and while his black long hair had ample silver streaks and his beard was greying, there were times when people managed to recognize him. He just didn’t want this to be one of those times, especially since he really liked this shop.
Ed carefully tucked his laptop into the bag and began to clean up his miss, his eyes down and doing his best to ignore the man, but it was too late. The stranger had gotten up and was approaching him with the book clutched in his hands and a smile on his face. It was a good smile, wide and open, only a bit nervous as his cheeks looked a little pink with a flush. Good god, really, he was going to ask for Ed to sign his fucking smut book right here?
“H-hey.” The voice was soft, a little higher pitched than he expected as the man came in easy hearing range. And startlingly, a familiar accent came with the next words. “Listen, I don’t want to be that guy…”
“Yeah, mate, perhaps you shouldn’t be.” Ed said stiffly, making sure to lean into his accent.
Blackbeard’s audio interviews always used an American accent, something he’d done early on when he’d begun to retreat from people. He also lowered his voice to make it more of a growl, since interviewers seemed to seriously dig that sort of thing. He hoped that would be enough to distract or make the man think he was wrong, after all, it wasn’t all that common to bump into another Kiwi.
“Oh! You’re from home.” The man said and widened his eyes a bit. “Your biography didn’t say that, well, no wonder I like your books.”
The smile returned and it was open and honest, he actually liked that smile and the man wasn’t pressing as he remained at the other side of the table. He looked as though he were embarrassed and delighted in turns as he stared at Ed, and that was just weird. Normally when this sort of thing happened it was with people that would push and crowd him, but this man just seemed excited. Shyly so, but what else would he expect?
“Listen, I get you’re a fan, but I really-“ Ed began, trying to at least be polite, because the man was not being objectionable, just weird. Really weird.
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry. This is awkward.” The other said and frowned just a bit before he gave a swallow and drew in what was probably a steadying breath. “I just, wondered, and I can certainly pay a bit, if you’d sign my book. Please? I never saw any signings and I didn’t know how to go about getting it to you..”
Because you don’t send your.. Ed began to think when there was a shove that sent a very worn paperback book across the table and he blinked.
He expected it to be one of the dark covered erotica novels or the tamer versions they sold in Barnes & Noble, what he wasn’t expecting was the cover that showed a ship surging across a stormy sea. The figure head that jutted from it splashed with water and a dramatic flash of lightning cast shadows across billowing sales. He’d loved it when the cover artist had sent him the preview, loved how it looked like it was actually in motion rather than just sitting still. He loved that if you looked hard at the water you saw a twisting tentacle rising up to capture the helpless vessel.
“Hoist the Colors.” Ed murmured as he ran a thumb across his name on the cover.
“I have the other two.” The man said in a nervous voice. “And I know this one is… oh it’s worse for wear, I really am good with books, but I’ve read this one a great deal and..”
“Nah, mate, a book is meant to be well loved.” Ed said softly and flicked his eyes up in time to see a wide smile crossing the man’s face. “You like it?”
“Yes.” The affirmation was immediate and warm, making Ed smile back in return. “It.. helped me during a rather patchy time, and it’s been a favorite. I recognized you from the picture a few weeks ago and had to work up the nerve. I know it’s a bother, and I don’t mind paying for the autograph, not at all.”
“No bother.” Ed said roughly and blinked a few times, finding his throat a bit tight as he looked down at what had once been his passion project. “No charge, I’d be…” Happy? Delighted? Overwhelmed? “..pleased to sign it for ya.”
He had signed a few copies of the book just as he had as Blackbeard and left them in shops, but he’d never had fans crowd for it. He wasn’t even sure they had ever sold, but as he picked the book up he saw that this one had been poured over. There were dog eared pages and little marks as though the man had underlined favorite passages and gone back to them repeatedly. The edges of the corners had been softened by hands holding it or being stuffed into a bag or pocket. The cover was also a bit chipped in places, the spine bent and folded in on itself from being held open time and time again.
He knew a lot of book lovers would probably be in arms at the rough treatment of it, but it reminded Ed of the books he’d had growing up. He had never been able to buy many, and what he did get had been either from second hand shops or sold off in library sales. He had destroyed those books in reading them so often, taking a fierce love of the written word. It always made him think of the book his mother had read him, the Velveteen Rabbit, where the damn bunny became so well loved he finally became real. Those books had been real to him.
“I… wait just a moment. I can get a pen.” The man said with a wider smile as Ed opened the cover. “I’m sure there’s one at the counter.”
It didn’t take long for the man to secure one from Roach and he seemed more shy and flustered when he returned, it was actually a bit cute. He’d had people approach him with lust in their eyes or challenge, he’d had all manner of weird fans, but he was enjoying this one. If the book had been pristine and new, maybe it wouldn’t have meant so much, but obviously this man had loved what Ed had written. He reached out to take the pen from the stranger with a lopsided smile and raised his brow a little bit.
“I’ll need a name, mate, if you want me to properly sign it.” He coaxed and the other man gave a bit of a flush of embarrassment.
“I’m getting this all wrong footed, aren’t I?” He confessed. “I’m Stede, like Steve, but with a D. Stede Bonnet.”
“Well then..” Ed said and reached out his hand to the other man. “I’m Ed, Ed Teach, and it’s a real pleasure to meet you Stede with a D.”