#god this show took over my life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

somethings-coming-up · 1 year ago

Text

STEDDYHANDS - SICK!IZZY FANFIC

Note: I really wasn't planning on just more OFMD fics and wanted to work on some OC stuff, but oops. TW: contains vomiting and a lot of language. Also there might be spelling errors, I typed this on Google Docs and it was being a little shit. I also work a graveyard office job and wrote this at like 4am so theres that too.

“I don't need the fucking tea. Leave me the fuck alone.” Izzy swatted away the herbal tea Roach had prepared for him and if looks could kill, the whole crew would have been slaughtered by now.

Only Fang, who had known him the longest of them besides Blackbeard, had the courage to protest. He looked dejected and worried but stayed in his place beside Frenchie and Roach, his courage not strong enough to approach a fiesty Izzy. “Please let us help you? Please, Izzy? It's just… we already lost Ivan. I don't-” Fang looked down at his feet, but everyone knew what he wanted to say. I don't want to lose you too.

It was barely noticeable, but Izzy’s expression softened--just a bit. “Fang, it's just a little fever. I ain't gonna die from it.” He looked off to the side, a slight snarl on his face. “But if it means that much to you, I'll drink the fucking tea.” Not so kindly, Izzy took the tea from Roach’s hand, taking a swig. He grimaced. “What the fuck is that?” he demanded.

“Medicine,” Roach explained like it was obvious. “For the fever and cough.”

“Thought you said it was fucking tea,” Izzy growled.

“The medicine is in the tea,” Fang told him. “You know, to help it go down.”

Izzy at this point, had enough of the gawking. There were eight pairs of eyes on him and that was eight too many. Just moments ago, Izzy had walked out of his quarters onto the deck, later than he usually did in the morning, and apparently his appearance gave him away that he felt like shit. Fang had approached him first, as Izzy leaned against the railing for support, which caught the attention of Lucius and Black Pete, and then Jim, Olu, Wee John, Frenchie, and Roach. Fang had done most of the mother henning, checking his forehead for a fever and apparently in the half-second he managed to make contact before Izzy swatted him away he was able to tell he felt warm. Izzy called bullshit, but it prompted Roach to bring back “tea” for him, and for everyone else to stand there like useless idiots just staring at him. “Okay, all of you, fuck off,” he demanded, but his sore throat prevented him from sounding as mean as he wanted to. He coughed wetly turning away from the crew and covering his mouth with his hand. He had to use the railing for support with his other. He felt a hand on his back and he didn’t care whose it was, he didn’t want it. He shrugged off the hand, stepping away from the offensive touch. “Leave me the fuck alone,” he said once he regained his breath. He turned around. It had been Lucius’ hand and it made him glare even more.

“Is he always this mean when he's sick?” Lucius asked Fang. Like Izzy wasn't standing right fucking there. Izzy didn't say anything, but spit over the side of the rail.

“Won't be long before he threatens to kill us all,” Fang answered. He turned his attention back to Izzy. He put his hand on his back and pat it lightly making Izzy glare at him. “But it's alright, Boss. We know you don't mean it. Gods, you just feel like hell, don't you? Probably didn't get too much sleep neither, aye?”

Izzy ignored him, wordlessly handing him the cup of tea so he could fold his arms on the railing and rest his head on them. He didn't have the energy to brush off Fang at this point, and it was starting to become apparent it wouldn't make a difference. They couldn't care less he didn't want to be stared at or touched. This was a punishment. They were punishing him for being an asshole all this time and he supposed he deserved it. Either that, or his fever actually killed him last night and this was Hell. Izzy groaned at the thought. He didn't want to spend eternity with these losers, that would be miserable. Especially with them touching him and looking at him with pity. When Izzy’s stomach rolled, he blamed them. Their pity was literally making him fucking sick to his stomach. It wasn’t the fact that he had a sensitive stomach that acted up whenever he caught literally anything. Nope, it was them. He groaned again, and Fang’s hand continued to rub up and down his back.

“Stomach actin’ up, Boss?” Fang asked him. “His stomach always bothers him when he’s sick.” Izzy still had his head buried in his arms, but he could only imagine Fang addressed the crew with that statement, which was not appreciated in the slightest.

“Izzy the Spewer,” Lucius commented, but not in a mocking tone. It was more matter-of-fact, like the dumbass was proud he could put a simple two-and-two together. Izzy wanted to stab him. He did have his sword, and he could probably get him with it without even having to lift his head. Then again, his boss would probably be mad because it would upset his stupid boyfriend.

“Shut the fuck up,” Izzy said, but it didn’t come out as strong as he wanted to. Turns out, talking made his stomach feel worse, and he almost gagged at the end of his command. Almost. Shit, he really was going to puke in front of these idiots. He couldn’t do that, that would ruin whatever reputation he might have left. He took a few deep breaths, willing for his stomach to cooperate with him just this once.

“What are we all gathered ‘round here for?” No. Not him. Anyone but him. As if his stomach was just as repulsed by the sound of Stede Bonnet approaching, Izzy at that very second lifted his head, leaned over the side of the railing and puked up a mouthful of tea and water. He coughed and closed his eyes, pretending like the entire crew wasn’t there. He tried to go to his happy place, but that was impossible when he knew Stede Bonnet was right behind him. There’s no happy place in Hell, Izzy reminded himself. His stomach unfortunately wasn’t through with him either. He gagged unproductively twice, but the third retch brought up another mouthful of vomit. He wished he could do this a little quieter, spare him some of his dignity, but this was the way his stomach always was when it was upset--if it wanted something out, it would get it out, no matter how hard Izzy often had to work for it.

“Oh my,” he heard Stede say, and at this point Izzy just accepted that it would be easier to throw himself over the side of the ship than to kill them all. “Well this is no good.”

“What a stupid fucking-” Izzy’s comment was cut off by a dry heave that had him gripping the side of the ship tightly. He spit. “-thing to say.”

“Izzy’s sick,” Fang said, and Izzy wanted to roll his eyes. Stede was an idiot, but even an idiot could come to that conclusion themselves.

“Got a pretty bad fever,” Roach added.

“And it sounds like he’s drowning in his own fucking mucus,” Jim said.

“Looked like shit since first thing this morning,” was Lucius’ unhelpful contribution to the conversation.

“Oh, that won’t do at all,” Stede said, adding a soft tsk tsk tsk that made Izzy groan again. He didn’t want to be mothered by Bonnet. He would rather drown. He would rather be hanged. He would even rather lose his other leg. He heard the sound of heels clacking on the deck, and Izzy put his head in his arms again so he wouldn’t have to see Bonnet so much out of his peripheral vision as he approached him. He felt another hand on his back, joining Fang’s and this really was a punishment. Izzy suddenly wanted to apologize to all of them for being an asshole all the time. That they could do literally anything else to him that they wanted for payback, but not this. This was just… cruel. They were all hovering around him like worried twats, concern in their voices, pity in their eyes, and Izzy wanted to beg them to just let him walk the plank instead. His eyes welled up with tears, and he blamed it on his sinuses, his sore stomach, or literally everything else that wasn’t the whole crew focusing on him like this.

“Alright everyone,” Steve announced to the crew. “You all have jobs to do, your captain will take it from here. I’m sure Izzy doesn’t want an audience right now.”

Izzy heard the crew start to shuffle away, even Fang’s hand left his back. But Stede’s was still there, much to his displeasure. He wasn't sure what was worse--one Stede or the entire rest of the crew. It was a toss up, really. His stomach jolted again and he lifted his head up to spit over the side of the ship. Stede apparently took this as an invitation to do an assessment of his own. Stede pressed the back of his hand against his forehead, and then his cheek. The only reason Izzy didn't shove him away was because he was preoccupied with swallowing back dry heaves, and any motion wasn't going to help with that.

“You do feel quite warm, Izzy,” Stede said. What a fucking genius. “Do you want me to get Ed?”

Even the mention of the idea had Izzy retch up another mouthful of bile. Stede's hand moved to his waist, and he began stroking Izzy's side up and down, close to his belly. “No,” he wheezed once he started to get control over his body again. “I want you to fuck off. And Edward doesn't need to be bothered with this. I'm just gonna sleep this off in my own quarters if your highness is alright with that.” His stomach was finally calming down, but his chest rattled. He coughed harshly again and spat out pink-tinged phlegm over the side of the ship.

Stede patted him on the back as he coughed. He let out a small sound of surprise when Izzy coughed up whatever was drowning his chest. “Oh, that doesn't look good at all.” Stede sounded genuinely concerned, and it pissed off Izzy even more. “Ed should know about this, he'd be rather upset if I didn't tell him you were so ill. But besides that, I would be much more comfortable if you slept somewhere where we can keep an eye on you.”

Izzy’s breath rattled as he retorted with a soft, “fuck off.” His chest didn’t just ache anymore, it burned. He put a hand to it and rubbed it. The fit had made him feel light-headed as well and he tightened his grip on the ship. His mouth tasted like metal, and he tried to push away thoughts of exactly what that meant. It was slowly dawning on him how ill he really was and he tried to supress the anxiety he felt. There was too much going on in his fevered, muddled brain and he swayed to the side, his grip loosening.

“I got you,” Stede said calmly. His tone had changed. He didn’t sound as arrogant or posh as he usually did. Izzy didn’t like it. “Shit, I’m gonna need some help here, Izzy. Okay?”

Izzy didn’t know what Stede was asking. Was he warning him that he’d have to get the others involved again? Was he asking him to help? If it was the latter, Stede was out of luck. Izzy was using what little strength he had left to keep himself from collapsing on the deck entirely. Then he heard Stede call out. He didn’t hear who he was calling out to. Then he couldn’t hear anything at all. His vision was swimming, his legs gave out completely, and the last thing he was even a little aware of was being slowly lowered to the floor. Then there was nothing.

*****************************

Izzy heard a moan. That was the first thing he was aware of again. The second thing he was aware of, was that it came from him. It was such a pitiful noise and he hated himself. He always hated himself a little, but he hated himself even more now for being so weak.

“Iz? Hey, Iz? Mate, you with me?”

Izzy opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. He cleared his throat and licked his lips before trying again. “Piss off,” he rasped. He didn’t know who he was saying it to, but it meant it all the same.

“Yeah, that’s you, alright.” Izzy did know that voice. He knew that voice better than any voice. He opened his eyes slowly, his vision blurred at first so he blinked a few times. Surely enough, Ed was leaning over him, and much to Izzy’s disgust, his brown eyes were full of concern. “Passed out on deck, you stupid fuck.” There was no malice or critcism in Ed’s voice, just concerned. Izzy felt ashamed all the same. “Why do you do that, Iz? Why do you push yourself like that every time?”

“I dunno,” Izzy answered with a weak shrug, closing his eyes again. He didn’t have the energy to psychoanalyze himself and really contemplate his obsessive need to feel in control at all times and never display weakness in front of others. His shitty childhood? His desire to please Blackbeard at all times? Pick one.

Ed sighed. “Scared the hell out of me, mate. I was in here when I heard Stede yell for me. Thought someone had been thrown overboard, he sounded so panicked. Then I come out and see you on the bloody floor.”

It occurred to me Stede didn’t know where here was. He opened his eyes again and surveyed the room. He took note of how soft the surface was beneath him. The stupid books. He felt nauseous again. “Why am I in the captain’s cabin?” he asked. “I have a fucking room.”

“Oh, darling, I think you need eyes on you right now.” Stede fucking Bonnet’s voice sounded from off to the side. Before he could sit up to glare at him, Stede moved and stood before him beside Ed next to the bed. Izzy wanted to kill that man, and he had a better reason now too, seeing as he was the only one to actually witness him fainting like a fucking pansy.

“Don’t darling me,” Izzy growled. “And I don’t need eyes on me. Fuck off.”

“Iz,” Ed began softly, but there was a trace of warning in his tone. “You blacked out a day ago. It’s not been pretty since. Been in and out the whole time, but I don’t think you were really with us.”

A day ago? It felt like just a few hours. And he had no recollection of being in at all. He sniffed pridefully. “Whatever, you could’ve let me do that on my own.”

Stede’s face turned into a slight grimace. “You needed help coughing up some… stuff. Roach says there is fluid built up in your lungs. He also said you don’t go from perfectly fine to this state overnight. Have you been feeling ill?”

Izzy had felt like shit the last couple of days, and planned on keeping it to himself but he supposed that was out the window now. “Puked last night--or I guess the night before. Thought maybe it was just the sea. Throat hurt a bit, and I guess-” he stopped himself. “Why am I even explaining myself to you? It’s not your fucking business.”

“Well, you made it my business when you collapsed on my deck,” Stede countered.

Izzy snarled and started to try to sit himself up. It was hard. “Fine. Drop me off on a fucking island or some shit, and I’ll do it there. If that’s what it takes for you people to leave me the fuck alone.”

He felt a gentle hand in his hair. It was Stede’s. He was about to push it off of him, when Stede’s hand brushed his sweaty hair back from his face and then gently caressed down his cheek. His thumb stroked his temple back and forth softly. Izzy felt a bit of the tension fade away, and he relaxed into the bed. “Just calm down,” Stede said calmly. “I know you have to be feeling dreadful right now, so just relax for once in your life. You don’t owe anyone an explanation, but goodness, I don’t know why you’re making this so hard for everyone--most of all yourself.”

Izzy didn’t have a retort. Stede’s hand felt nice. He would never say that out loud, but he didn’t protest either or push him off, which he supposed is why Stede continued. He didn’t always hate Stede. Sometimes Stede was the only one who was nice to him. He thought back to when he was spiraling after Blackbeard shot him and he lost his leg. He had been emotionally drowning at the front of the ship, on his own, and the only person who checked on him was Stede. Izzy hand’t been nice about it, so maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to act like such a bitch now. There was still this feeling deep down, an insecure stubbornnes--a defensiveness. One that always protected him--had his entire life. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t, and it’s what kept him from leaning into Stede’s touch or admitting that it was kind of nice to not be on his own right now.

“There you go, mate,” Ed said as he pat his leg. “I know this isn’t easy for you, but you’re doing a good job.”

Was he? Izzy still couldn’t let himself feel completely at ease. A small part of him wanted to run to the door and lock himself in his room by himself. Not that he’d be able to manage that in his current state, anyway. He sighed and closed his eyes again. “I don’t know why it’s so hard either,” he whispered. He never thought he’d admit something like that out loud and blamed it on his fever.

Stede kept stroking his hair. “You don’t owe us an explanation,” Stede repeated. “But it’s good you said something. Maybe that’s something we can work on, alright?”

Izzy just nodded. He kind of felt like he was going to cry, but hell would freeze over before he did that in front of Stede. Stede would probably just rub his back and stroke his head and tell him to let it out and that it was all going to be okay. Fucking disgusting. “Alright,” he said instead.

Stede smile and pulled his hand away, much to Izzy’s displeasure. He frowned, and Stede must’ve noticed. “Just give me a moment,” he said softly. Stede moved around the bed to the other side and slid in, lifting the blanket so he could get under the covers with Izzy. Izzy turned to glare at him, but instead he was met with Stede’s obnoxious, arrogant, knowing smile. “Come here,” he said, tone leaving no room for argument. He opened his arms and Izzy couldn’t believe this was happening.

“I really am in Hell,” he muttered to himself. He scooted closer to Stede, but still left a gap between them. It’s not that he was opposed to the idea, he just didn’t want Ed and Stede to know he wasn’t opposed to the idea. Stede got the hint, fucking mind reader, and closed the space between them. He wrapped his arms around Izzy and Izzy’s head sort of just naturally snuggled underneath his chin. It just fit there comfortably.

Stede began to stroke his hair again. “You gave me quite the fright yesterday. Well, not just me.”

“Yeah, yeah, Ed already guilt-tripped me about scaring the shit out of him.”

“Whole crew, mate,” Ed slipped into the bed too, on the other side of him. “They all told us to tell you to feel better. They were going to have Lucius write a get well card and all sign it but-”

“But they’re illiterate twats?” Izzy sniffed, trying to sound indifferent. “But that’s nice, I ‘spose. Thought that counts, and all that.”

Stede kissed the top of his head. “We’ll tell them thanks for you.”

“I didn’t fucking say that,” Izzy protested.

“We’ll tell them anyway,” Ed said. “But get some more rest, Iz. We’ll be here, alright? You’re not alone.”

Not alone, Izzy thought. The idea didn’t make him feel so anxious anymore. It made him feel… safe. He nuzzled into Stede’s neck because it was right there, so he might as well. He ignored the little “aww” that escaped Stede. Pushing your luck, Bonnet. He felt Ed’s arm wrap around his back and he closed his eyes. He didn’t know what it was going to be like once he was better, but he decided he would enjoy this for now. It was probably he most content he had ever felt.

#our flag means death #ofmd #fanfic #fanfiction #sick izzy hands #soft boyfriends #vomiting #emeto #sickfic #steddyhands #kind of #they like to cuddle okay #god this show took over my life

30 notes · View notes