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house-afire · 6 months ago

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What to Expect When You're Not Expecting (Fang/Izzy, pregnancy fantasy)

Prompt: 100 words of getting him pregnant

“I wish you could knock me up,” Fang said.

This was what Izzy got for lounging about after a fuck like he hadn’t a care in the fucking world. It was too easy to wind up like this, loose-limbed and cock-drunk, his sweat-soaked hair rubbing against Fang’s belly. Izzy had to use him as a pillow—or so he told himself—’cos the bed was narrow as a virgin’s arsehole. No room for two unless you piled atop each other like this. God only knew how some aboard managed their little fuck-arounds.

He couldn’t run away from whatever the hell fancy Fang was spinning for himself. His leg was halfway across the room, swaddled up cozy in a blanket.

Bit like it was the babe Fang was apparently after. Izzy gave it a look like it had betrayed him, playing along with all this.

He didn’t know why his hand found its way to Fang’s belly too, resting there in front of his eyes.

“Well, I can’t,” Izzy said. It came out blustery somehow, indignant and spitty and riled-up, like he was months back, talking to a peacocking Spriggs. “Have Roach explain it to you, if you’ve gone this long without—”

“I know how it works, boss.” Fang patted his stomach. His hand fell to the side of Izzy’s at first and then, almost shyly, straight on it. “Got nowhere to put it. But if you could.”

If he could. If he could, he’d still be a one-legged pirate past his prime, sailing on a ship where the crew was already vulnerable and downy enough without adding an infant in the mix. He had enough to take care of already. He had a child, he’d wind up throwing himself in the fucking sea.

But he remembered Calypso’s Birthday—the sweep of gold glitter above his eyes, the cloud-pale shimmer, his painted lips against a goddess’s hand. No one had come right out and said he wasn’t pretty, that it was all just paint and pretend. Fang had draped a chain of flowers around his neck. There were times and places when the world this lot believed in wouldn’t die straight-out like a hothouse bloom in the cold.

Nothing cold and brisk about the times he shared his bed with Fang.

They weren’t talking about a real child that would bawl its fucking head off and shit its drawers and deserve more than Izzy could give it. They weren’t, he realized with a hot wash of something, even talking about it getting born at all. Fang would be good at it, having a little one, but that wasn’t what this was bout. Just Fang carrying it. Just Izzy putting it in him.

“You’d swell up,” Izzy said. “Have to loosen your leathers.”

“Ooh,” Fang said happily. “You’re right, Izzy. And they say your feet swell up too. Would you rub them for me? My little tootsies?”

“Christ. I’d have to, or I’d never hear the end of it. Bonnet would probably hold a fucking intervention. Because they’d know—” What he was trying to get out was too big and jagged, like he couldn’t force the words from his throat. But he did anyway—for his own sake, this time. “Because they’d all know it was mine. Ours. Wouldn’t they?”

“Of course they would.” Fang sounded almost scandalized by any threat to his imaginary fucking child’s legitimacy. “We’d tell them. ‘Izzy and I are having a baby.’ Bet there’d be cake. And Pete could make a crib for it—”

“It’s my fucking firstborn, I’ll make it a crib.”

“—and Wee John could knit it little booties—”

“I can feel it,” Izzy said, spreading his fingers out on Fang’s belly, a starfish on the shore he could really call home. “Kicking. Can’t you?”

Fang wriggled under his touch, pink-cheeked and pleased as anything. “They say that’s a good sign,” he said, and he took his hand off Izzy’s and put it on Izzy’s cheek instead, turning Izzy’s head up to look at him. “When you can feel it like this. Means, you know, that it’s healthy.”

First healthy fucking thing he ever had a part of, then.

“Good,” Izzy said. He swallowed. “I suppose I’ll do my best to take care of you both, then, so it stays that way.”

He kept his hand where it was. It rose and fell with Fang’s belly as he breathed. A sign of life against his palm. A sheltered little hothouse bloom that could thrive so long as he stayed cupped over it.

#fang/izzy

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thegreatcanadianjackalope · 1 year ago

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Hi!! Little prompt for Izzy/fang/frenchie— could we maybe get some Izzy comfort? It could be safeword comfort, things going too quickly and Izzy flipping out, anxious that he safeworded, or it can be comfort for anything! Just lots of Fang and Frenchie working together v well and in sync to take care of their scrungly little man <3

Summary: Frenchie and Fang notice Izzy isn't sleeping well. They want to do something about that.

Fluffy Hut/comfort with some mild discussion of trauma (canon typical)

Note: I love this! I'm going to save the safeword comfort for another story because this is the story that jumped out at me when I read your beautiful prompt.

This is unedited right now. I might come back and clean it up later but for the moment my focus is on getting the writing flowing.

Music inspo for this fic is Rosy Golan's It's Been a Long Day

Fang found Frenchie organizing goods in the hold. He knew it was still weird for Bonnets crew to see Frenchie and Jim doing so much work, but Fang was honestly pleased to see that neither of them were backsliding into laziness. If anything, their hard work was rubbing off on the others.

“Hey, man. How’re things going?” Fang asked.

Frenchie startled but settled into a smile when he realized it was only fang. “Good, yeah. Things are good. Just, you know, keepin’ busy.”

“And everything’s good with the mind box?” Fang asked, gesturing vaguely at his head.

“Yeah, good. It’s good. Everything is you know…” Frenchie trailed off as he looked into the distance.

“Good?”

“Yes. Yeah. Exactly.” Frenchie said, brightening back up.

Fang decided to leave that alone for now. “Listen, have you seen Izzy recently?”

“Saw him this morning, why?”

“Did you notice that he looked a little… unwell?” Fang asked.

Frenchie scoffed. “What do you mean? He looks loads better than he did before. He’s got his new leg on, he’s clean, and he doesn’t even have any visible bruises.”

“That is true,” Fang hedged. “It’s only, I don’t think he’s sleeping much. To me, it looks like he hasn’t slept in a few days.

Frenchie looked considering. “Hmm, now that you mention it. I did see him practicing his sword fighting really early this morning, and Wee John said he was working real late last night.”

“I guess I’m just worried about him. The rest of us don’t sleep good at all, and we agreed he’s the most fucked up of all of us, so it must be worse for him.” Fang said, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

“Yeah, but its not so bad now that the crew is back because if one of us wakes up from a nightmare another crew person is always right there.” A moment of realization seemed to dawn on Frenchie. “Except Izzy doesn’t sleep in the crew pile. He sleeps alone. In the room where Blackbeard took his first toe. Oh shit, babes. Can’t say I blame him.”

Fang felt a blush creep up his neck at the nickname. He absolutely did not let himself giggle. Frenchie calls everyone that. He wasn’t flirting with fang. Besides, Fang was supposed to be solving the Izzy problem. “I wish we could just convince him to join us in the pile, but I don’t think he’d ever go for that.”

“I mean, he has loosened up a lot lately, but that might be a step to far. What if we brought the pile to him?” Frenchie asked.

“I don’t think that’s better. If anything, he’d be mad there was no one watching the deck.”

“No, I meant you and me. We could go to his room tonight and force him to sleep and tell him we’ll watch out for him,” Frenchie suggested.

Fang considered this. Actually, it made sense. Izzy wouldn’t really trust the rest of Bonnet’s crew, Archie and Jim had a particular energy about them. One that wasn’t conducive to a full night’s rest.

Fang agreed and they made plans to meet at Izzy’s room later.

….

Izzy sat heavily on his bed. He knew he needed to take off his hoof and check his leg, but he couldn’t make himself move. He was exhausted. Mentally, physically, emot—nope. Just mentally and physically. He was having trouble sleeping. That was all. He couldn’t sleep because they were heading into a new season and the sun cycles were changing. It was all to be expected. He’d adjust. He would.

Izzy was startled from his thoughts when he heard a knock at his door. Before he could respond, the door opened, and Fang and Frenchie spilled into the room.

“Oh, yes, please do come in. Thank you for knocking. It was very considerate of you,” Izzy said sarcastically. Though he knew that his words lacked their usual edge.

“Hi boss,” Fang said, brightly, “We were hoping to spend the night in here with you.” Frenchie was nodding in agreement.

Exhausted, Izzy asked, “Why? There are plenty of places on the ship if you’re too cold to sleep on deck.”

Frenchie said, “Yeah, but the thing is that Fang here has been having nightmares, and he said he hasn’t been feeling safe enough to sleep lately.”

Frenchie jabbed Fang with his elbow and Fang said, “Oh yeah! Everything that happened just keeps coming back to me. And I thought ‘hey what place is safer on this ship, than with Izzy Hands?’”

The crack of a cannon, a flash of lighting, the glint of light on a saw, and the smell of gunpowder flashed through Izzy’s mind in quick succession. His stomach rolled and he clenched his jaw.

“I’m a cripple now boys. You’re better off with just about anyone else on this ship. Hell, you’d be better off on your own. I’m a liability now.” Izzy didn’t like how truthful the words were, but he was just too tired to cover it up.

Fang frowned, “Boss, you literally saved our lives. You understand that, right? We would be dead without you. Lying at the bottom of sea.”

Izzy scoffed but didn’t argue he didn’t have the energy. He also really didn’t have the energy to watch over them tonight. It was on his tongue to say no when the image of a scene he walked into popped into his head. Fang crying into his cake and Frenchie staring blankly, emptily into the distance. And then, bizarrely, the feeling of Fang’s arms around him and Frenchie’s palm, warm in his.

“Okay, you can stay here. I’ll make sure you’re safe,” Izzy said. He couldn’t tell them that this room had long since been safe, but he thought he could probably make it safe for Fang just for tonight.

“Great!” Fang exclaimed and then immediately went over to Izzy’s dresser. “Frenchie help me with this.” The two began dragging the dresser across the floor.

“What the fuck?” Izzy asked incredulously.

Frenchie explained, “We’re blocking the door with the dresser, so no one can get in. This way, you don’t have to stay up all night.”

“I thought the whole point was that you needed me so you could feel safe,” Izzy said, suddenly feeling useless despite not wanting that responsibility only minutes before.

“This is just the first defence, boss. This way if Blac—Someone tries to come in, we’ll hear them and you’ll be ready to protect us,” Fang said.

“And if there’s a fire?”

Frenchie laughs, “A fire? We’re on the ocean. We’re literally surrounded by water.”

Izzy sighs deeply. “There are so many things wrong with that I don’t know where to start.” The thing was though. In Izzy’s 35 years at sea, he’d only really had to deal with one major fire. Fire wasn’t what kept him up at night. In fact, just seeing the door blocked by that heavy hunk of wood was settling something in him he didn’t care to examine. “Fine. If it makes you feel safer.”

Izzy began the arduous process of removing his peg leg. Before he could even get the straps undone, Fang was by his side.

“Let me help you with that, Izzy.”

Izzy growled, “I’m a cripple not an invalid.”

“He knows that,” Frenchie said. “Helping you will make him feel better, innit? Don’t you want Fang to feel better?”

Izzy huffed but didn’t move to stop Fang as he eased the false leg off and placed it to the side. Fang loosened the tie on Izzy’s pant leg and pulled the leg up his thigh. Izzy wished he had some semblance of embarrassment about this, but the four of them had seen Izzy in every stage of loosing his leg so it wasn’t like he could say it would be a shock for Fang.

Frenchie brought over Izzy’s water basin and said, “Here you go, babes.”

Abruptly, Izzy took in the scene before him. Fang, kneeling on the ground, about to wash Izzy’s stump, while Frenchie watched. Heat creeped up his neck and he felt a bit woozy. This was too intimate. He was too vulnerable. He needed to put a stop to this. He was about to do just that when Fang began gently dragging the cloth across the raw skin.

Izzy’s eyes fluttered shut. When he did this for himself, he was impatient and rough. It had always hurt. Now, with Fang being careful, it didn’t feel good exactly, but it was nothing like the pain he was used to.

“It’s looking better. Does the new leg fit better? You don’t have as many cuts and wounds.” Frenchie asked.

Izzy tamped down on the flare of emotion that burst in him at the mention of that fucking leg. He didn’t think he could speak without his voice cracking, so he just nodded in reply.

Fang smiled up at him and said, “That’s great, Izzy. Glad to hear.”

“You know,” Frenchie said frowning, “Your thigh muscles are looking really tense. Maybe I should just…” As he trailed off, he reached over to grasp at Izzy’s thigh.

Izzy made it through approximately thirty seconds of Frenchie massaging his thigh before he felt a lance of heat in his groin. He jerked back and choked out, “That’s enough. Thank you. I think it’s time to sleep now.”

Frenchie gave him an odd look but didn’t argue. Izzy was honestly shocked that he had felt anything even approaching arousal. He wasn’t sure it was going to possible for him after the Kraken.

Frenchie took the spot next to the wall and Izzy waited for Fang to get in. When he didn’t, Izzy looked at him quizzically.

“If it’s okay with you, boss, I’d rather take the outside. I find it more comfortable, and I get hot easily,” Fang said.

Izzy wanted to argue. Wasn’t the whole point of being here to make fang feel safer? Shouldn’t Izzy be closest to the door so he could spring into action if necessary? Izzy wanted to argue. He really did. But he was so tired. He just didn’t have it in him. His body, without full permission from him, crawled in next to Frenchie.

The bed wasn’t that comfortable for one person, never mind three, but somehow, they made it work. Izzy didn’t protest when Fang’s arms slid around him. There wasn’t really another way to make it work. Frenchie’s head rested against his shoulder and Izzy found he couldn’t really complain about that either.

Izzy was warm, his body was pressed against on both sides, there was no way someone could barge through that door, and he could finally feel himself drifting off to sleep.

Just before he slipped off, he heard Fang’s gentle voice. “You know, Frenchie, that mind box won’t hold forever.”

Izzy felt Frenchie shift against him, could feel the protest coming. In a raspy, sleep filled voice, Izzy said, “He’s right. Just look at me. I thought I had everything locked up tight. Eventually, something has to give.”

Frenchie laid a hand against Izzy’s chest in acknowledgement.

In that same quiet voice, Fang said, “I’m here for you if you need to talk, Frenchie.” Then Fang gave Izzy a squeeze that felt a lot like ‘you too, Izzy’.

No more words were said that night. Instead, Izzy fell into a blissfully uninterrupted sleep.

#Fang/Frenchie/Izzy #A new ship name has been suggessted #Kitty bites #let's see if it catches on!#ouizzy #Frenchie/fang #Fang/Izzy #izzy hands

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