ed sheeran fan fics


An Ed Sheeran One Shot
A request: He has a nightmare and you comfort him

Word Count: 4,878

The chair was uncomfortable no matter how many times Ed switched between sitting with his left leg tucked beneath him or sitting cross legged on the seat.  He sighed and rolled his head to stretch the stiff muscles in his neck, tilting it left and right to try and get it to crack.

When he’s in the studio he isn’t easily distracted, not like he is at home, which is why he chooses to spend full days there and then some when he’s feeling creative.  He’d been there since early that morning and every so often he’d check his watch for the time, making sure he’d stick to his schedule and be out of there before eight, since he made plans to have dinner with you at his house.

From the kink in his back and the yawn he couldn’t help but let out, he checked his watch again, double taking when he saw that it was already ten minutes past eight o’clock and he was nowhere near being done at the studio.  Without another thought he quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed your number.

It rang unanswered and Ed sighed against the phone when it went to voicemail.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he started, “I lost track of the time, but I promise I’m leaving here in fifteen minutes, no later, please wait for me.”

With a final ‘I love you’ he hung up and got straight back to work editing the last bit of the song he’d been working on.  He kept getting stuck on the last verse of the song and when he started to run his hand through his hair and rub his eyes under his glasses, he knew he had to leave it and come back to it another time.

Ed stood up and stretched his back, curling his arms up beside his head with another yawn.  Though his stomach had been grumbling for the past hour or so, he ignored it to try and finish the song and stayed put in the dim room, handwriting lyrics he’d been trying to complete for the past week.

Sometimes songs would come so easy to him that he’d get overly frustrated when he got stuck on one or two of them.  When he would start feeling angry or frustrated he was well aware that he had to stop, and so he did, closing up his leather bound notebook and gathering it in his left hand beside his hip.

“’Night guys,” he called once he left the room, rubbing under his nose before he nudged his glasses up a little further.

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The Infamous 'Spanky Ed' Fic: Ed Sheeran's Spanking Kink

{Easily one of the highest requested one shots I’ve ever had…enjoy!}


You got him mad. Purposefully. Flirting with one of his stage crew, with him watching you with a tense jaw. Really, really, mad compared to his normal gentle temper. Red in the face, hands-shaking kind of mad. He knew there was a game you weren’t letting him in on, and he was intent on finding it out.

Then, at the hotel, you got him turned on, your hands wandering to the places he wanted them, and then leaving with a tease. He was so frustrated with you that he didn’t want to show the signs of him being ‘frustrated’ with you.

The combination was electric, and it was working. It was bringing out the side of him you’d always suspected but never truly expected to see.

The thing was, you enjoyed making love with Ed. He was gentle and careful and put you before himself always. He made every movement have purpose, every touch making you feel safe. You loved the sweet side of Ed. But you also loved the not-so-sweet side.

You knew he had it in him, and that asking him to be a bit rougher would just make him laugh uneasily and scratch at the back of his neck. It was something that was situational, and by now he knew when you were asking for that performance from him.

“What the fuck was that about?” he asked through his teeth as soon as the hotel room door closed, and you found yourself backed into it. You have him a coy smile and looked from his chest back to his blue eyes, dark with lust. “What was what about?”

“Don’t fucking act like you don’t know,” Ed said, and a bit of you lurched inside, having been successful. “You were all over the bloody sound guy during sound check. Did you think I couldn’t see you?”

He stiffened as you put a hand on his shoulder, drawing your mouth close to his ear, “maybe you should punish me, then.”

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An Ed Sheeran One Shot
A request: Ed takes care of you/comforts you during that time of the month
#2 from this list

Word Count: 2,101

Most of the time, Ed knows how to take care of you. Most of the time you don’t have to ask him to lift a finger, because he’s already two steps ahead.  Most of the time he’s sweet and knows the right things to say and when to say them.  But, sometimes, he finds himself at a loss for words, or shying away from you to give you the space he thinks you need.  Sometimes he’s right, but there are times when all you want is his attention and affection.

“I just want you to, I don’t know,” you sighed, curled up in bed under the blankets with your hand over your eyes, “I want you to bring me chocolate and rub my back and tell me I’m cute even though I’m a fucking mess.”

Ed was stood in the doorway, his hands fidgeting and hanging out of his pockets.  He’d been sat in the living room watching TV when you called for him, and though he suspected it was the time of the month, he didn’t dare ask or even hint at it, especially when you snapped at him for minuscule things over the past few days.

“I tried all that last month,” he spoke almost under his breath, his mouth pulling down in a pout with his blonde eyebrows flat, “and you told me to get away from you.”

You separated your fingers over your eye enough to see him, and he just shrugged.

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An Ed Sheeran One Shot
A request based off of ‘Sunburn
Word Count: 1,094

Ed’s point-of-view

When I close my eyes it feels like I’m falling, as if the floor beneath me opens up and sends me soaring into an infinite black space, over and over.  It makes me think about how things are without her, how everything feels empty, and how I have no ground to stand on.

I left and she stayed and I know I’m the reason why I feel this way, but I can’t stop playing the scenario in my mind and I can’t stop telling myself that it’s her fault when all I ever want is to blame myself.   I wanted her to come with me, but the logical part of my brain fought me tooth and nail on how even asking her to pause her life just because I couldn’t stand to be without her was inconceivably selfish.

I was packing to leave and she said things wouldn’t be the same if I went through with it, and it seemed so ironic that in the very same instance, a house I’d built of Lego dropped from my hands and smashed into a million tiny pieces. The second she said we wouldn’t last, my heart shattered with the tiny plastic bricks and dispersed along the floor between us.

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