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Summary
Stede manages to be everywhere at once; his mouth pressed to the bird on Ed’s shoulder, his toes tracing the tattoo curving up his calf muscle, his fingers wrapped loosely around Ed’s wrist.
“I should quite like you immortalised in a portrait,” Stede murmurs against his skin. “Not Blackbeard, not the Dread Pyrate. You, Edward. Every inch of you, laid out beautifully like this.”
or: Edward Teach deserves nice things. Thankfully, that's where Stede comes in.