#vampire!frenchie

[deaf-solitude]

Bloodsucker Pt. 2 (Vampire!Frenchie x GN!Reader)

Takes place post-season 1, pre-season 2 once again!

Pairing: Vampire!Frenchie x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Blood, death, detailed violence, vampire feeding, fluff???, they’re goofy your honour

((Oh my god I’m SO sorry for how long I’ve been gone, writer's block hit me like a mf but I’M FINALLY BACK!! Back with pt 2 of the vampire!Frenchie fic B). I took some liberties on the mechanics/weaknesses of vampires in this part (i.e. they can go out in the sun (but are prone to sunburns), how they act when they haven’t been able to feed in a while, etc), which I hope doesn’t screw up anything too much. If anyone would like an explanation of how vampires work in this AU, lmk and I’ll make a more detailed post about it. Also this came out a lot more platonic than i intended I’m so sorry lol. ALSO ALSO i probably wont write a part 3 unless it’s explicitly asked for, and if you guys do want a pt 3, let me know what you’d like to see in it and maybe i'll get around to it :D anyway, enjoy!))

To say you were now incredibly worried was an understatement.

Over the few days since the whole vampire accusation, things had only looked worse and worse for Frenchie. The opportunities to feed on bodies after raids were practically nonexistent because of the newly implemented rules and the crew had gotten annoyingly creative in their attempts to “ward off” the suspected vampire among them. You were afraid you were never going to be able to get the smell of garlic out of your nose after this all blew over since they had been hanging up bulbs and cloves everywhere you could imagine; you had even found a bulb stashed away in the storage closet you usually napped in, which you were quick to throw out of the nearest porthole.

Despite the crew’s valiant efforts, Frenchie had informed you that garlic didn’t actually repel vampires, but it did cause what you chalked up to be a minor allergic reaction in them. This was good news since Jim had forced every person on the ship to eat a raw clove shortly after the initial incident. You were never fond of garlic, so the experience was less than pleasant, but having to deal with a bleary-eyed and runny-nosed Frenchie afterward might’ve been worse.

But what really had you worried was the raids. Blackbeard’s strict schedule of at least one raid per day didn’t let up in the slightest with the discovery of a vampire on board, and as time went on, you noticed Frenchie acting… weirder than normal.

The exhaustion came first, which was one of the symptoms you expected from him not being able to feed. It started with him getting more tired than usual as the day went on, and then taking longer to wake up in the mornings. Next thing you knew, he started joining you on your cat naps in the closet, where you’d have to practically drag him out while he was still half asleep to avoid getting caught. Now, even in the middle of the day, he fought to keep his eyes open, and you had often caught him falling asleep standing up while leaning against a post.

Then there was the weakness. You had never been a particularly strong person before being forced into Blackbeard’s crew, but you knew Frenchie was at least a bit stronger than you due to his height. He had always been able to handle larger crates of treasure easily with the help of Jim, but now he could hardly keep himself on two feet, let alone transport cargo. There were several times when you’d send Frenchie down with a crate, you’d hear a loud clunk shortly after, and when you rushed down to check on him, the crate would be tipped over on the floor with Frenchie standing out of breath next to it and complaining that his arms hurt. It was even easier to tackle and drag him around now since he had little strength to pull away.

This didn’t prove useful in raids, both for his well-being and your mental health.

You had practically adopted the role of his bodyguard, having to save his ass from combatants on multiple occasions. In one particular instance, the raid had started fine. Sure, Frenchie was a bit drowsy, but it was nothing too concerning to you at the time. A few minutes later you were desperately trying to yank an enraged man off of Frenchie, who was pinned underneath him and screaming for you to do something. Jim eventually stomped over and repeatedly stabbed the attacker in the back, causing him to crumple over right on top of Frenchie. After Jim quickly returned to their combat, you then spent another minute trying to haul the now dead man off of Frenchie, who could barely lift the body an inch off of his chest.

Today, you decided to keep a keener eye on your companion as you boarded a new ship. While Blackbeard did his usual drawn-out and dramatic entrance, you were already watching Frenchie out of the corner of your eye, who was standing beside you. Well, standing the best he could. He was swaying slightly in place, his eyes repeatedly fluttering shut and jolting open again once he realized they had closed. You bit your cheek and turned your attention back to Blackbeard. He was fucked.

It wasn’t long before Blackbeard finished his spiel and the crew leapt into action, eager to slaughter any adversary they could get their hands on. You took a breath to try and calm your nerves before lightly slapping Frenchie on the back in an attempt to wake him up a bit more, rushing forward to join your crewmates soon after. He jumped at the contact and swivelled his head to see who had hit him, when he very suddenly realized that they were, in fact, in the middle of raiding a ship. He cursed under his breath before sluggishly following after you, clumsily setting up his “claws” in his hands.

As blood started to spill, you saw Frenchie perk up, whirling around to stare at a man who had just recently been felled by Fang. What he failed to notice was another man coming up behind him, sword drawn and ready to strike. You were quick to cross the deck towards the two, slicing a gash into the man’s chest without hesitation before turning to Frenchie. He was about to lunge for the body when you caught the scruff of his jacket, yanking him back. “Are you fuckin’ mental?” You hissed, struggling to keep Frenchie in place.

“Wh-huh? No, no, I’m good,” he slurred, his eyes locked onto the body as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. You groaned, slapping his face lightly. That caught his attention and his head snapped back to look at you with a glare. You paid the nasty look no mind, pulling Frenchie slightly closer to you as your face darkened with annoyance.

“Behave,” you growled before letting go of his jacket to twirl around and deflect an oncoming sword with your own. Frenchie rolled his eyes, mumbling something about how he wasn’t a dog and that he could control himself, gracelessly lunging at another poor sailor soon after.

You had just knocked the sword out of your opponent's hand when you heard the tear of flesh and the choked scream that could only be accredited to Frenchie’s handy work. When you turned around to check on him, he was salivating above the bleeding man with wide, unfocused eyes. He almost got a bite in had you not immediately abandoned your own scuffle to drag him away from the dying man once again.

The raid turned into one big game of keep away between you and Frenchie, much to your dismay. You’d turn your back on him for a second to focus on not being killed, and when you looked back at him a moment later, he’d be hovering over another dead or dying body that you inevitably had to yank him back from, and the process would repeat. You were starting to worry that it looked far too suspicious to be normal, but not much was normal about the crew anyway with the way they ripped apart seamen and pirates alike.

Speaking of, the crew had torn this ship’s crew to shreds in record time, and soon everyone was standing in piles of blood, guts, and gore of their own making. Not a single soul was left alive aboard that ship.

You stopped your fretting over Frenchie for a second as you took in the sight of both the countless bodies that littered the bloodied deck, and the numb faces of your crewmates. Your heart sunk in your chest for a brief moment; the crew couldn’t keep doing this for much longer. The heavy footsteps of Blackbeard spurred you from your grief, instinctively yanking Frenchie back to your side after he had tried (and failed) to sneak over to another body.

Blackbeard’s cold gaze studied the crew, tilting his head slightly before speaking: “Alright, collect the plunder and let’s move on, lads.” His nonchalant voice cut through the melancholy mood of the crew like a hot knife, everyone flinching slightly before being quickly propelled into action. You huffed as you watched Blackbeard retreat to the confines of the Revenge, slowly turning to look at Frenchie with an agitated glare. He faltered under your gaze, taking on the expression and posture of a kicked puppy.

“You owe me big time,” you grumbled, poking an accusing finger into Frenchie’s chest. Before he could get a single apology or excuse in, you practically dragged Frenchie–who had started frequently stumbling as he walked–off of the raided ship and onto the Revenge. Despite your annoyance, you were quick to offer your support to him, letting him lean on you as the two of you trudged off that damned ship. He had protested, saying that you two had to haul treasure, but you knew he’d drop it anyway and kept walking.

It was hard to stay mad at Frenchie, it really was. The longer you walked in silence, the more guilty you felt about the whole situation.

You brought him down to his room and sat him on the bed, eying him warily as he flopped over onto the mattress and groggily blinked up at the ceiling. “So what exactly happens if you don’t drink blood for a long time?” You started, nervously wringing your hands out as you sat on the other end of the bed.

“Umm, I d-don’t know for sure,” he muttered, his head lolling from side to side as he struggled to keep himself awake, “I th-think I dry up and die or something.” You weren’t sure about the dying part, but you had noticed his cheeks becoming increasingly hollow over the past couple of days.

Again, you couldn’t help but feel like this was your fault. If you had just ignored that stupid gap in the wall, the crew never would have found out. You sighed, bouncing your knee nervously as you thought of what to do.

…Well, you did have an idea in mind, but you weren’t sure about going through with it.

Your mouth started moving on its own before you could really think the idea through: “What if I…” you paused, biting your lip with uncertainty. When Frenchie looked up at you with big eyes and that stupid pout, you knew you’d lost.

“What if I let you… feed on me?” You mumbled, your words hardly above a whisper, but Frenchie heard them loud and clear. He nearly jumped you, actually, taking hold of your shoulders and leaning forward with dizzying speed.

“Really? Like right now?” He exclaimed suddenly, sounding more energetic than he had in days. You grimaced, averting your gaze before sighing in defeat.

“I suppose. Can’t have my napping buddy shrivelling up on me now, can I?” You joked nervously, but it went right over Frenchie’s head as he grinned brightly.

“Oh my God, you’re the best!” He praised, engulfing you in a tight embrace. You wheezed, patting his back with a strained smile on your face.

“Yep. No problem,” you huffed, struggling to breathe, “just, uh, give me a sec to gather myself, yeah?” Frenchie nodded, willing to go along with anything to let him feed on you at this point. You sighed heavily, scooting backwards on the bed and leaning up against the wall, unbuttoning a few of your shirt’s top buttons to expose more of your shoulder.

“N-nothing too obvious, okay? Below the neck, preferably,” you stammered, watching warily as Frenchie practically foamed at the mouth. You straightened your back slightly, your fingers digging nervously into the tattered sheets of Frenchie’s bed as he slowly crawled on after you. It was… extremely creepy, with the way his eyes were blown wide and his lethargic movements mimicking that of a cat stalking its prey.

“Yeah, yep, ‘course,” he replied mindlessly, drawing closer and closer to you. He positioned himself dangerously close to the junction between your neck and shoulder, his warm breath fanning against your skin sending a shiver up your spine.

“How much do you think this is gonna hurt?” You questioned to give yourself a distraction, unable to stop yourself from shaking as Frenchie grabbed your shoulders to keep you still. You figured the answer was obvious, but maybe you were overestimating how painful it would be in your mind.

“A lot,” Frenchie stated bluntly before suddenly sinking his fangs into the flesh between your neck and shoulder.

You were not overestimating it.

If anything, you were severely underestimating how much it would hurt, and Frenchie’s blunt statement did nothing to describe the pain you felt.

You had to stop yourself from screaming, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth after a sharp inhale. It felt like two giant needles had just been stabbed into your shoulder, stinging like hell and almost making you queasy enough to pass out. Despite that, you clung to your consciousness, fighting to keep yourself quiet as Frenchie started to drink your blood properly. A cold creeping feeling crawled its way down your spine from your shoulder: it was excruciatingly painful and uncomfortable as you got colder and colder, but you held out for Frenchie’s sake.

Speaking of Frenchie, you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly… intimate this seemed on his part. Forget the location of the bite, Frenchie was making some questionable noises and hums as he continued to feed on you, pushing his body against yours and feverishly grasping at the other side of your neck. You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes roll back, but it was difficult to tell from this angle.

Before you could ponder that thought any longer, you started to get woozy, feeling unnaturally cold. “Frenchie,” you whined weakly, attempting to gently nudge him away. He didn’t budge, pressing himself against you further. You sighed, and with the little strength you had left, pushed against him with all your might. “Frenchie, get off!” You hissed, finally spurring him out of his daze as his fangs withdrew from your flesh. He stumbled backwards from the force, but managed to land on his feet as he was shoved off of the bed.

His breathing was heavy as he stared at you for a few seconds, his mouth parted slightly and his pupils still blown wide. It took a moment for him to process your sorry state before his skittish demeanor returned, gulping in what seemed like awe as he dragged his hands down the back of his neck to try and ground himself. He wasn’t really sure what to do now; usually his “meals” were already dead or dying. Not sure if he should move closer to you again, he could only quietly apologize: “S-sorry, sorry. God, that was…”

“Good?” You heaved, bracing yourself with your hands against your knees while your head was bowed in exhaustion. You stared up at Frenchie through bleary eyes, who had your blood smeared all over his face, looking very pleased with himself because of it.

“Oh, better than good. I haven’t had fresh blood in ages, and yours tasted heavenly.” Frenchie marveled, freezing after his unintentional hushed statement as he stared at you with wide eyes. You did unfortunately hear him, raising a brow at his mortified expression while your lips quirked into a small, teasing smile. His face flushed but he didn’t comment any further on the notion, looking away as his tongue darted out to nervously lick away some of the blood still left on his lips.

Before you could unpack all of that, a splitting migraine invaded your skull, causing your vision to go blurry as you made a strained sound of pain. You tried to hold yourself upright, but you could feel yourself quickly tipping forward from the sudden wave of dizziness that hit you.

Before you could fall far, Frenchie had swiftly caught you in his arms with a concerned cry of your name. “Oh Jesus fucking Christ, I haven’t killed you, have I?” You could faintly hear as you clung to your consciousness, trying your best to right yourself to no avail. You could feel yourself being gently picked up and moved slightly, and then placed back down on a soft surface.

“Fuck, fuck, I’ve killed them. What am I gonna tell the crew? Where am I gonna hide the body?” You could hear Frenchie fretting, the guilt finally kicking in for him. You groaned hearing his outlandish thoughts spoken aloud, weakly reaching your hand in his direction.

“I’m not dead, you fucker,” you croaked, trying to blink your heavy eyelids open.

You could hear Frenchie gasp, and a sound that vaguely sounded like something falling to the floor beside you. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me! I-I got carried away,” he apologized profusely, taking one of your hands in both of his own like you were on your deathbed. You snorted softly, a wobbly smile spreading across your face at the action.

“Relax. I don’t think you could kill me if you tried,” you teased in a weak voice, finally managing to get your eyes open to give him a look. You had expected him to be standing above you, but after a second of your eyes searching the room, you found that he had kneeled down on the floor next to the bed. You had to stop yourself from bursting into laughter at the sight.

Frenchie’s face scrunched up in confusion at your comment before a look of confusion and slight offence overtook it. “What the fuck’s that s’posed to mean? And why are you… giggling?” You managed to laugh weakly at his reaction as you turned your head away, bringing a small smile to Frenchie’s face in the process.

“N-nothing, it’s-” you cut yourself off with more hushed laughter as you looked at him again, bringing your free hand up to cover your mouth in an attempt to stifle your outburst.

“Is it because I’m kneeling? Because I’m worried that I killed my closest friend?” Frenchie taunted, though it was obvious that his words were all playful by the huge grin that spread across his face. You couldn’t stop laughing as he continued to speak, turning away from him to try and hide your face. You had no coherent answer for him, and that only encouraged Frenchie’s teasing.

“Wow. I just… this is unbelievable. I never thought you’d stoop so low, laughing at my… my concern for you,” he snarked, putting a hand on his chest in mock offence.

“Stop, stop! God, it hurts,” you exclaimed through strained giggles, clutching your stomach in pain with a wide grin on your face as your constant laughter started to give you a cramp.

Frenchie hadn’t taken your exclamation the right way initially, thinking that he actually did something to hurt you. His expression dropped almost immediately, trying to figure out what he had done as he started to withdraw his hand from yours. “O-oh, I-”

You were just as quick to snatch his hand back up when you noticed that he had started to pull away, nearly gasping as you did so. “N-no, no! You’re fine, Frenchie. It just hurts to laugh so much,” you explained hastily with a warm smile, easing his concerns.

It had been so long since you’d laughed that hard.

Frenchie’s face lit up with relief, and then quickly turned red with embarrassment. He smiled sheepishly, quite thankful that you had kept his hand in yours as he gave yours a soft squeeze. “Ah, right…”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you laid on his bed, your eyes drifting down to where your hands interlocked. You had taken to idly running your thumb over Frenchie’s knuckles, a soothing gesture that you were focused on.

“B-but seriously; thank you. I, uhm… I needed that.” He mumbled, watching you run your thumbs over his knuckles with a soft expression.

“Yeah, clearly. I mean, fuck, do I even need to mention what just took place during the raid?” You ragged, playfully rolling your eyes as the lightheadedness slowly dissipated from your body. You sat up slowly with Frenchie’s help, hissing quietly as the puncture wounds on between your neck and shoulder were jostled.

Frenchie scoffed exasperatedly, slapping your arm lightly as a light blush spread across his face again. “Will you shut up? It wasn’t that bad.”

You gave Frenchie an unimpressed look, raising your eyebrows. You opened your mouth to rebuke him, but he was quick to shush you before a single sound could come from you.

“I don’t need you to recount it, thank you.”

You laughed again, hesitantly cupping one side of Frenchie’s face with your hand, who was still kneeling on the floor. “You're welcome,” you smiled, pressing a quick kiss to Frenchie’s forehead. He blinked in surprise, inhaling sharply at the soft gesture of affection. A conflicted expression crossed his face as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

”Why… why are you doing this for me, anyways?” He questioned quietly, pouting slightly. You pursed your lips, not exactly sure why you were going to such lengths for him in the first place; you had barely known him for more than a few months, and yet here you were, risking your life for him.

”…Because you’re my friend, and that’s what friends do,” you answered hesitantly, still not totally confident in your reasoning.

Frenchie seemed to catch onto this, looking amused as he raised a brow at you: “Yeah, because normal people are always letting their vampire friends feed on them.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Shut up. I just care about you, okay? Is that illegal now? Am I going to be arrested?” You argued playfully, rolling your eyes.

Frenchie chuckled, still not quite content with your answer. “You care about a vampire? A monster?”

”I do. Shoot me,” you snapped sarcastically, choosing not to comment on his monster classification just yet. That seemed like a completely different problem to unpack, and you were too exhausted—both physically and mentally—to properly address it just yet.

Frenchie barked out another laugh, finally dragging himself off of the floor to sit next to you on the bed. “Okay, whatever you say, you weirdo,” he finally caved, dropping the subject for now. You snorted at his name calling, shaking your head with a smile.

Frenchie’s eyes drifted back to the puncture wounds at the base of your neck, wincing at how deep they were. They weren’t bleeding, but there was blood smeared around the area from how hurriedly he was feeding. Heat rose to his face again at the thought, but he quickly tried to distract himself from it by getting up to get a rag and some bandages.

”Let’s get you patched up, yeah?” He smiled bashfully at you, nervously wiping at his mouth again in case there was any blood left behind. You chuckled at the gesture, bringing your legs up onto the bed to sit criss crossed.

”That’d be appreciated, yes.”

[evelina-maar]

David Jenkins hasn't been answering my calls, so I'm putting this out here- Vampire Pirate Captain Frenchie (he plays electric guitar instead of a lute, don't worry about it)

[bononstar]

and when we get louis through lestat’s point of view and he’s absolutely transcendent—green eyes sparkling and crinkling up every time he smiles, his skin gleaming a little extra after he feeds, his moments of unfiltered, unabashed happiness. and lestat just… not being able to keep his eyes off him, his gaze lingering, his hands reaching out and flexing in the millionth unintentional remake of the pride&prejudice hand flex scene because what is lestat but a dramatic bitch who is in love and yearning for his beautiful boy

[swiftiesbuddie]

damn, this year is a complete win for the bisexuals 🩷💜💙

[bethnoir-fic]

Give rockstar Lestat a french bulldog.

[dervampireprince]

ASMR | Our Flag Means Death - Izzy Hands x Listener SFW Getting Together With Izzy Hands

[M4A] [Spoilers for S2 E1-3] [Discussion of trauma] [Kissing] [Romantic]

[Set after episode 3 and before episode 4, you were one of Stede's crew members that Blackbeard kept. You and Izzy have feelings for each other but he had to push you away so Blackbeard wouldn't hurt you. Now Blackbeard's gone.]

I thought I'd never voice Izzy again because his voice is hard it do and I'm not confident about it but lots of Patrons have been requesting for him to come back and the other night I watched the 3 episodes of season 2 that are out and... Oh how the tables have turned. I've always loved Izzy, I loved him in season 1, and to see so many season 1 Izzy haters now liking him too makes me really happy. I just want to give Izzy a big hug and hold his hand.

.

Custom audio commissions are open! Full public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]

[lego-ninja-bilbo]

Character: Is an instrumentalist

Me, also an instrumentalist:

[something-about-sunflowers]

Have a very slightly cleaned up Vampire!Frenchie OuIzzy thing I wrote in Discord:

It's after a raid and Frenchie's desperately licking the blood off his claws and arms because he's starving. Half the crew are avoiding him 'cause they're scared of him. His half of the crew are avoiding him because he asked them to. At least right after raids. He doesn't want to risk hurting them. Captain's fucked off into his cabin again, looking disappointed Frenchie didn't kill him when he got a little too wild with the bloodlust. And Frenchie would feel bad for him, he can tell he's going through a lot right now, but. Well, he is starving him. Intentionally. And torturing his friends, so. He feels less bad for him than he normally might.

He's felt Izzy's eyes on him since the very moment he ground himself to a halt during the raid, when he was about to attack the Captain. (He'd seen Izzy's hand flash to his sword at his hip, he wouldn't have blamed him really but he did think it was pretty fucked up they'd been put in that situation in the first place. Izzy looked genuinely upset at the thought of having to kill him, he appreciated that.) And now, even though the Captain is no longer in immediate danger of being drained like a bottle of rum - which Frenchie really wishes he had access to. . . and that it would have gotten him drunk if he did have some. . . and that he could, y'know, drink it in the first place - he's still staring. He knows it's just practical ol' Izzy keeping an eye on the biggest threat. He knows that. But. Well, it does feel a little unfair to be treated like he's uniquely deadly considering they're all murderous pirates and all. Stings a little.

Anyway, he feels the hunger abate enough he thinks he's probably safe to be around his friends again. As safe as things can be on this ship anyway, but Izzy stops him.

'Need a word with you.'

'Uh.' He casts a questioning glance at his friends. None of them seem to have an answer in their eyes so turns back to the first mate. 'Sure mate, what's up?'

Izzy glances at his friends as well, then at the rest of the crew, with a final glance - almost imperceptible, if Frenchie didn't have heightened senses - at the door to the Captain's cabin.

'In private.' he says, gruff as ever. (And again, Frenchie can't blame him for that. He wonders if things must have been dire like this for him before St- The Captain Who Shall Not Be Named. Wonders if that might not be why he is the way he is.)

Frenchie glances back to his friends, still no answers. Jim shrugs. Fang looks. . . concerned. But that could just as well be concern for Izzy's sake over Frenchie's. Today had been the first time they'd seen him lose control, after all.

Izzy doesn't wait for him to answer. Frenchie letting him grab his arm and drag him down into the hold, when they both know by now that Frenchie is wildly stronger than Izzy and could easily break from his grasp, is answer enough he figures.

He's not really sure what he's expecting Izzy to want to talk about. He figures it must have something to do with the Captain, considering.

He's certainly not expecting Izzy to pull his glove off with his teeth and start rolling up his sleeve with brutal efficiency. (Well, the 'brutal efficiency' he'd expect, it's Izzy after all.)

'Uh, mate?'

'You need blood.' He's not asking.

'Wh- I- I mean. Yeah? But-'

'I don't care. You need blood. You're going to take it from me.'

'Captain said-' Izzy grabs his face, brings it close to his own. It's dark in the hold, Frenchie knows, he wonders if Izzy knows he can still see the slight flush to his cheeks. Or the tears that well in his eyes.

Probably not.

'I know what he said. I know what he'd do if you disobeyed. That's why you're not the one disobeying him. You're going to take what you need from me.'

Before Frenchie can respond, Izzy's baring his wrist. He's sure Izzy doesn't realize he can see what looks to be an old faded tattoo that he can't quite make out behind all the scars over top of it. Or the still healing marks further up his arm. Frenchie feels like he should- should say something. He doesn't know what to say. He's sure Izzy wouldn't appreciate him pointing it out anyway, even if only to commiserate.

Izzy is silent throughout but Frenchie can't help the hurt noise he makes when Izzy drags his knife over the old scars at his wrist and starts bleeding. He feels his mouth start to water but he holds himself back. He doesn't want to risk hurting Izzy. Doesn't want to risk incurring the Captain's wrath.

'Stop thinking and take it. Don't make me bleed for nothing.' Izzy cuts through his doubts. And. Well. He has a point, doesn't he? He is already bleeding. Whether Frenchie drinks or not, if the Captain sees the mark on Izzy's arm, he's going to assume he disobeyed anyway.

He leans in.

Izzy startles just the slightest bit, near imperceptibly, when Frenchie grabs his arm. His heart starts racing when Frenchie seals his mouth over the cut.

The tang of fear, Frenchie is used to (though he'd have thought if anyone wouldn't taste of it, it would have been Izzy), but it tastes different on Izzy. Like it's not Frenchie he's afraid of. Suddenly it hits Frenchie with a startling clarity what Izzy meant when he said 'You're not the one disobeying him'. His next swallow is heavy with the weight of what Izzy is doing for him. What he's willing to endure for him and for his friends to be safe. . .

What he isn't expecting to taste on Izzy's blood is the arousal. He finds he's not. . . mad at it. There have certainly been people he's fed from that found a sick thrill to it, one he never understood, but then he figures it's different when you ask for it. Izzy doesn't seem the type though. Sure, maybe the 'smack me around a little to get me off' type, but not the 'it turns me on to put my life in your hands' one.

He glances at Izzy's face, it feels a little unfair now, knowing Izzy can't examine him back but. He's also kind of grateful for it. He can't imagine what his own face is doing seeing Izzy like this. The flush to his cheeks, the way he's biting his lip the tiniest bit, the way his eyelids flutter when he blinks long and slow. No sense in lying to himself, he knows Izzy's attractive. It sure is something else to see him up close and unguarded like he is now though.

Izzy lets out a breath. It sounds like a moan. He must hear it too because his eyes shoot open, wide and unseeing, his flush deepens, and he quickly presses his free hand over his mouth. Frenchie does him a kindness of not reacting to it. He knows Izzy knows he heard it, but he wouldn't like if he called attention to it. So he doesn't.

Underneath the fear and the arousal though, he tastes. . . well. . . rot. Infection. It's clearly something Izzy is somewhat managing considering he's been up and on his feet nonstop these past weeks but. He can't help but think back to what he heard the night all of this started, through the walls of the ship in a way only he could. Izzy's scream, the way it went muffled, 'Stop crying, it's just the pinkie', 'Threaten me again, ever, and I'll feed you the rest'. He'd also heard that conversation. He didn't think it warranted that type of response really. Seemed a bit overkill, even if it was a bit mean. But then. So did all of what had followed since. So. He supposes they're all just aboard 'SS Overkill' at the moment.

He pulls back when Izzy starts to sway. Izzy grunts.

'Keep going. You need more than that.' And well. He's not wrong. But Izzy also doesn't actually know that. What is it with him and the Captain using him to try and hurt themselves? It's unfair is what it is.

Anyway, it's enough. It's not but it's enough. He says as much.

'Don't need you keeling over during tomorrow's raid,' is how he pitches it. 'This helped. Took the edge off. Head feels less. . . fuzzy. Like I can think straight. I'll need more soon, yeah, but this'll keep me in control for a while yet.'

For a long moment Izzy stares blindly a little to the left of Frenchie's face, like he's trying to determine if it's a lie or not. Eventually he sighs.

'Yeah, alright.' He looks down at his hands, where he's wringing his glove like it's a neck that wronged him. Sighs again. Then looks up at the general area of Frenchie's face again, determined. 'Look, next time you feel like you're. . . losing control like that I want you to come find me. You can say you've got a question about rations or something. I don't want- this can't. . . What happened during the raid can't happen again. I know, it's not your fault. So I'm making it my responsibility to fix it. When you're like that, everyone is in danger. . . Not just Him.'

Someone else might not have heard the slight hitch in Izzy's voice, Frenchie continues to choose kindness and doesn't mention that either.

'Alright. Control starts to head out the door, I come and find you to ask about "rations". Got it.'

Izzy nods decisively, then steels himself. Puts back on the 'No-Nonsense First Mate' persona and heads back towards the ladder. Frenchie wonders at the sight a lifetime on ships can give someone who can't see in the dark when he makes it there with no issue.

He hesitates. It feels wrong, somehow, to end the conversation there.

'Izzy.' He calls Izzy stops, one foot set on the bottom rung of the ladder.

'Just. . . Just want to thank you, mate.'

''S my job. Managing the crew.'

'Yeah well. Still.'

Izzy makes to start climbing again.

'Izzy.' He stops again.

'I just. You know you don't. Deserve that. Right? What he does?'

Izzy's breath hitches and he turns away from the darkness Frenchie still lingers in, shoulders tight and trembling. He doesn't respond.

He climbs up the ladder. _

Later, when everyone else is settling in for what passes as dinner on the ship these days, Frenchie is the only one who hears it. Izzy and the Captain. The 'snikt' of the shears. The way he muffles his shout. The 'c'mon, open up, you know what you've done.' The way he retches once he's made it back to his own cabin and slammed the door. The way he sobs.

Izzy's blood burns in his chest. _

The next time he starts to lose control he follows Izzy's instructions to the letter. They share another moment. (He knows Izzy would hate that he calls it a 'moment' but. It is a moment, damnit!)

Later, again, he hears the fallout in the Captain's cabin. This time, he makes a decision. He needs to talk to the others.

They're going to save Izzy the way he's been trying all along to save them.

[tubby1230]

Mistletoes and Mayhem

I drew this last year but it wasn't Christmas time, so I waited. This is fanart for non-other than @changethecircumstances fanfic Mistletoe and Mayhem. I absolutely love their works for the Frenchie/Izzy ship as they basically captained the whole thing. The story was never finished but what few chapter were out I loved. I have read ever OFMD work they have made and even though I am not in any of the fandoms they writ effort currently, I like to support from behind. If you are looking for a good ship with Izzy (and my personal favorite), I definitely recommend their works.

I honestly kind of hate this and since have learned so much about art that I may redraw it as I have been rereading some of their fics again (currently on in order to get to the heart sometimes you have to cut through for like the 4th time). Maybe, maybe not but as winter break is soon, I should have some free time.

Anyways, go look at their blog and read their work, you won't regret it!

[shedontlovehuhself]

Alright. On my Interview With A Vampire watch. Watched up to episode three last night. Was falling asleep towards the end of the third ep, so gotta run that one back.

[deaf-solitude]

posted on ao3 once again!

Bloodsucker Pt. 1 (Vampire!Frenchie x GN!Reader)

This takes place post-season one, pre-season 2. Enjoy! :]

Pairing: Vampire!Frenchie x GN!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/drug abuse, blood, dead body, death, the usual vampire stuff, comfort

Summary: You were never one to believe in myths. Despite the superstitions your crew mates constantly followed or avoided, it never rubbed off on you. You simply couldn’t believe things like mermaids or fairies existed, you had no tangible proof of them aside from kid's tales and supposed sightings reported by others. There was always an explanation: sea mammals, large bugs, coincidences, you name it. You especially didn’t believe in vampires. Humans-turned-monsters that needed to drink blood to survive? The very notion seemed impossible to you. 

That is until you just so happened to come face to face with one within the very walls of The Revenge.

...

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

You were roused from your short after-raid nap by drops of cold water landing on your face, the first sounds that invaded your senses being the bone-shaking rumble of distant thunder and the soft patter of rain against the hull. Shit, you thought the ship would be in the clear of that storm. You took a deep breath of stale air before you willed your eyes to open, only to be met with stifling darkness. It took a moment of adjustment before you could see anything in the room, and even then, you could just barely make out the outlines of crates and miscellaneous supplies. Another drop of water landed on your head.

You sighed and pushed yourself off of the crate you had previously been napping on, your back popping loudly as you stretched out all the kinks. You wished you didn’t have to take cat naps stuffed into leaky storage closets and on top of uncomfortable surfaces, but alas, Blackbeard didn’t allow for rest during the day. At least, not where he could see you. That’s why you quietly crept up to the closet door, slowly pressing it open to peek out for any witnesses. When you didn’t see anyone, you quickly slipped out of the cramped space, closing the door behind you before meandering down the hallway like nothing had happened. You didn’t know how long you were in there, but it must have been at least an hour for the storm to get so close to the ship before you woke up.

As if on cue, another crack of thunder rang out in the distance, and this time you could see the delayed flash of lightning as you passed an open porthole. It was getting colder on the ship as well, the wind blowing in and stealing all of the warm air away. Seemed like a perfect hang-out night, if you were being honest with yourself: get your buddies together, huddle up in a room by the candlelight and play cards well into the night. Or at least, that’s what you would do once Blackbeard was passed out from the booze or the rhino horn he was always consuming. It was sad, really, but none of you dared to try and tell him to stop. Especially with Stede gone…

You shook your head to try and clear your thoughts, rubbing at your tired eyes. As much as you missed how this ship was previously, dwelling on the past or on what you couldn’t change never bode well for you. You were better off focusing on what you could do with your minimal options. And for you? That was keeping your friends out of harm's way the best you could. At the end of the day, you only had each other on this God-forsaken ship.

Speaking of, you wondered where everyone was at right now. Izzy was no doubt lingering around Blackbeard–the poor fucker, Jim was probably off sharpening their knives, Fang was most likely having a nap much like you were, and Frenchie… You never really knew what Frenchie was up to nowadays. Blackbeard had done away with his lute long ago, despite both of your protests, and he had just finished up with the embroidery on his jacket, so he didn’t have many personal projects to work on. Now that you thought about it, most of the time he would hang around you, doing whatever you were doing. So where was he now?

There weren’t many places he could be the more you thought about it. You didn’t think he would be anywhere near the captain’s quarters, or above deck in this weather, so maybe his room? But you had already passed it and hadn’t seen any signs of life coming from there. Aside from the kitchen, you couldn’t think of anywhere else he could be at this time of day, so that’s where you were headed next. 

You could’ve sworn Frenchie just disappeared sometimes. You’d see him scurry off below deck at various points during the day, then you’d follow him a minute later and there’d be no sign of him or where he went. Whenever you’d spot him later, he’d always make some excuse that he was right in that room, you just didn’t see him! You never bought it, but you couldn’t be bothered to push the subject any further. Besides, you knew he’d tell you if it mattered.

When you got to the kitchen, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed when there was, once again, no sign of Frenchie. You really were destined to spend the rest of the day asleep in that supply closet, huh? You lingered for a moment longer before turning to leave, but something caught your eye as you did. One of the small benches that lined the back of the room was slightly off-center, pulled out a few inches from the wall. You furrowed your brows, making your way over to it. Who the fuck was moving furniture around? As you went to push it back into place, you noticed a small gap in the wall that had some kind of light shining from deeper in.

You hesitated, your curiosity wanting to pull the bench back further, but your self-preservation wanting you to leave it the fuck alone and mind your own business. After hardly a moment’s consideration, you did end up pulling the bench back, as quietly as you could. It turned out the gap was an entire secret passage, but you couldn’t say you were surprised to see one when Stede’s hidden wardrobe existed. He did say there were multiple passages around the ship, didn’t he? But who was using this one?

The thought that it might have been used as one of Blackbeard’s stashes briefly crossed your mind, causing you to creep down into it with as much stealth as you could muster. You just had to know what was down here. The moment you spotted any sign that it was Blackbeard’s, you would just… creep back out. Yep, perfect plan.

Even with the faint glow of, what you deduced was candlelight, it was still incredibly dark. You were careful to avoid tumbling down the stairs with slow steps, but it just made the anticipation unbearable.

You were halfway down the stairs when the small space was suddenly lit up by a close strike of lightning, and the thunder that immediately followed was almost deafening. It startled you so bad that you jumped, your foot falling a little too heavily on the next step. You heard someone gasp from the darkness in front of you, and your eyes shot up to find them. The small candle set on the floor hardly produced enough light for you to make out their figure, but another bolt of lightning did.

Your blood ran cold when you saw a flash of the scene in front of you: Frenchie was crouched down on the floor, hovering over the lifeless body of one of the vagabonds the crew had slaughtered earlier that day. His canine teeth–fangs–were embedded in the poor lad’s neck, and his eyes were wide with surprise; it didn’t seem like he was expecting you to stumble upon his little nook. 

The light left the room as quickly as it came, but you both stayed perfectly still, staring wide-eyed at each other in the dark until he broke the silence and mumbled against the body’s neck: “It’s not what it looks like.” 

Control of your body came flooding back to you with the sound of his voice, and without a second thought, you whipped around and stumbled back up the stairs, taking off out of the kitchen. Frenchie, startled by your sudden movement, scrambled to get to his feet and let the body thump loudly back onto the floor before sprinting after you. 

“Hey! Hey, wait a second!” Frenchie called out to you in a loud whisper, but you ignored him, traversing the halls of the ship at an alarming speed while repeatedly cursing under your breath. Frenchie could feel panic swelling in his chest as you got closer and closer to stairs that led up to the top deck, slamming into walls and knocking over loose knick-knacks while turning corners as opposed to your quick and calculated movements. 

You were almost there now; you could practically taste the salty sea air as you approached the staircase, but you were tackled before you could even get a foot up onto a step. Frenchie had somehow caught up to you and was quick to slap a hand over your mouth and drag you into a nearby closet before anyone saw or heard you. You thrashed against his hold, shouting muffled profanities into his hand as he closed the door behind the two of you. This was it, huh? You were going to die at the hands of a vampire after being such a strong nonbeliever in everything supernatural. You had really hoped you wouldn’t find out this way, but alas, maybe it was payback for all those times you didn’t leave food out for the fairies. 

Despite Frenchie’s fiendish background, he was struggling to keep you immobile, wrapping his arms around you and trying to hold you close to his chest. “Hey, hey! Chill out! I’m not gonna hurt you!” He hissed quietly as you struggled against him, not fully grasping the absolute terror that was flooding your brain at that moment. Sure, he was your friend, a close friend even; one that you trusted with your life after everything you’d been through together. But watching him suck the blood out of a dead body was a lot, even for you. 

You had finally gotten a good elbow into his stomach, winding him and causing his grip on you to loosen. You were quick to break his hold completely and spin around on your heel, drawing your dagger with impeccable speed and holding it against his throat while you shoved him hard against the wooden wall of the closet. Frenchie’s demeanour changed almost instantly when he felt the cool steel lightly press into his neck, his breathing hitching as he threw his hands up in surrender. His eyes flickered between the dagger and your face, nervous despite the fact that only a stake through the heart would truly harm him. 

“What. The. Fuck,” you growled quietly, breathing heavily as you attempted to catch your breath. Frenchie’s throat bobbed as he nervously swallowed, his gaze momentarily dropping to your neck before hesitantly meeting your hardened stare again. He could practically hear your heart still racing in your chest, the sound of your blood pumping ringing in his ears. Without realizing it, a certain image had begun to form in his mind-

“Helloo? You still there, Frenchie?” Your hoarse voice interrupted his train of thought, making him jump slightly in your grasp. He hadn’t noticed himself spacing out, awkwardly clearing his throat after he realized.

“Ah-uh, yeah! Yeah, I’m here,” he squeaked, his voice cracking slightly as he pushed his aforementioned thoughts to the back of his mind. You raised a brow at him as you watched his fidgety body language, finding it harder and harder to view Frenchie as a monster–a vampire–and not the goofball you had known for months now. If it wasn’t for the blood dripping down his chin and neck, you would’ve thought that what you just saw in that hidden room was a hallucination.

Now that you had his attention again, though, you found yourself struggling with what to address first. The stashed body, how long he’d been hiding this, if he had any ill intent for you and the rest of the crew… your mouth open and closed a few times before you finally managed to string together a sentence: “Does anyone else know about this?”

Frenchie vigorously shook his head. “God, no! Could you imagine if any of the others found out? If Blackbeard found out?” He frantically whispered, already panicking just from the thought. You winced at his reaction, pulling your dagger back slightly from your previous attempt at intimidating him while patting his arm in some semblance of comfort.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you reassured, “I’m just surprised you hid it so well for this long. Even when… Stede was captaning us?” You questioned, your voice instinctively lowering when you mentioned the former captain. Frenchie nodded in confirmation, his eyes still blown wide despite your best efforts to calm him down. You hummed in contemplation, almost letting the thought pass before you suddenly realized something: “Wait, how did you feed when Stede captained us? We hadn’t killed anyone until almost three weeks in.”

Frenchie’s frown dropped even further, his face whitening as he looked down at the floor with a pouty bottom lip and a guilty expression. After a beat of silence, he opened his mouth to respond, but you put a finger up to shush him instead. “Actually, never mind, I don’t want to know,” you objected, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Wait,” Frenchie cut in, his brain finally catching up to the current situation, “so, you’re not gonna kill me? Or rat me out?”

You sighed, fully letting go of him and crossing your arms. You couldn’t lie, you had become quite fond of Frenchie over the time you’d known him, and it would be a shame if you lost what little good company you had left.  

“Not unless you give me a reason to,” you affirmed, still slightly on edge that you had been hanging around a literal vampire for the past few months. Well, now that you thought about it, you had always noticed Frenchie’s canines were unusually sharp…

“Oh, thank the Lord above!” He exclaimed with a heavy exhale, his posture relaxing as he put a hand over his heart. “You’re a fuckin’ saint.” 

Your face screwed up at his exclamation. “I wouldn’t say a saint, but whatever helps you sleep at night,” you retorted, “just don’t go around sucking everyone’s blood and you’ll be fine.” You reached behind Frenchie to open the closet door, wanting nothing more than to get out of that stuffy room and regain your bearings, when frantic shouting suddenly rang out from further in the ship:

“Guys! Guys! Someone’s been sucking the blood out of this body!” Fang. Fuck, he must have wandered into the kitchen. You glanced over to Frenchie to see that he was once again in panic mode, frozen in place and breathing hard. You debated just opening the door and bluffing your way through the whole situation before you remembered that Frenchie still had the body’s blood all over his face. You cursed under your breath, turning on your heel to dig through the crates of the cramped closet. A few sets of hurried footsteps approached and passed your hiding spot, muffled voices joining them further into the ship.

You could hear Frenchie starting to hyperventilate behind you as you searched for something to clean him off with, spurring you to look faster. “Oh God, oh God,” he started to mumble, which was never a good sign when it came to any of your crewmates, “they’re gonna find me. They-they’re gonna find me a-and drive a stake through my heart, or-or throw me overboard for the sharks to pick at-” His rambling gradually got louder and louder, to the point where you had to whip around and slap a hand over his mouth to prevent him from giving the two of you away.

“They won’t find you if you would just shut up,” you growl, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of the blood from his face sticking to your hand. He nodded, albeit nervously, and you slowly removed your now blood-covered palm from his face. Without giving him time to start up again, you brought an old rag you had found up to his face, beginning to haphazardly wipe away the blood. Frenchie flinched in discomfort from the rough material, his face scrunching up as he tried to avoid your touch, but you simply held his head still with the other hand and continued. 

When he started to sputter and spit after the fabric had gone over his lips, you rolled your eyes. “Will you quit it? I’m trying to help you here.” 

Frenchie gave you a half-assed glare, still squirming and trying to move his head. “It’s fuckin’ scratchy,” he hissed, and although desperate to get the rag off of his face, his hands stayed firmly put at his sides. 

“You know what’ll be worse than scratchy? Getting publicly executed by Blackbeard when he finds out you’re a fuckin’ vampire!” You snarled as quietly as you could with how agitated you were getting, effectively shutting Frenchie up as you got the last bits of blood off of his face. Well, you got them off the best you could. If you looked closely, you could still see areas where it had stained his skin and beard, but that would take water and a good soap to get out; soap that you didn’t have right now.

“There,” you wiped your hands off with the bloodied rag and threw it somewhere over your shoulder, “as long as no one looks at your face too closely, you should be fine.” You commented, though it did little to calm Frenchie’s nerves as he started fidgeting with his hands again. You could hear the voices of the crew getting louder now, more distressed, and you knew you couldn’t hide in the closet any longer if either of you wanted to avoid suspicion. You reached for the door again, but not before giving Frenchie one last look. “Don’t say anything stupid.”

Approaching the kitchen felt like an arduous task, each dragging step only making your heart sink further. You couldn’t help but continuously glance back at Frenchie, who had an equally, if not more nervous aura about him. You steeled your expression as the rest of the crew came into view, crowding into the room to get a glimpse at what Fang was screaming about. 

You should’ve left the stupid bench alone. It was just how you had left it, pulled out almost completely from the wall where the hidden passage was. The only difference was that the dead body was now sprawled across the floor of the kitchen for all to see, rather than stashed away in the passage. The two-holed bite mark on its neck was now painfully obvious in the lit kitchen, and the sickeningly pale skin of the man looked unnatural for a dead body that was only a few hours old. You could hardly see it while trying to peek over the shoulders of your fellow crewmates without drawing attention to the two of you, especially since you showed up last. But no matter which way you tried to paint this situation, things were not looking well for anyone right now.

“This has gotta be a fuckin’ joke,” you could hear Blackbeard snarl from the front of the crowd, giving the body an aggressive kick. You could see Frenchie flinch from the sound out of the corner of your eye, instinctively leaning closer to him to try and soothe his nerves. “Whichever one of you sick fucks did this, you better fess up now, or I’ll put you through fuckin’ hell when I find you.” Blackbeard bellowed, pointing a half-empty bottle of rum at the crew in front of him. Frenchie opened his mouth, but you were quick to hit his arm and shut him up, thanking God that you were both at the back of the room and blocked by at least a dozen other pirates.

When the only response Blackbeard got was silence, he huffed with a cynical smile. “Okay, we want to play that game then?” He sneered before drawing his gun, drunkenly pointing it at various crew members. “I’ll shoot every last one of you dimwits if I have to.” 

It wasn’t long before Izzy stepped in, putting himself between Blackbeard and the crew as he spoke to the captain in hushed alarm. You took the distraction to gingerly place your hand on Frenchie’s arm in a comforting manner, not daring to look up at his face as you stared at Blackbeard, watching for any sudden movements.

Some words were shared between Blackbeard and Izzy before the captain stormed out of the room, mumbling something about him needing another drink. In the absence of his presence, the crew is silent for a moment longer before breaking out into hushed chatter, shaken up not only by Blackbeard but the fact there was a vampire aboard the ship. You could already see suspicious glares and glances being thrown out between crew members. 

You let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding, rubbing Frenchie’s arm subconsciously before stealing a glance up at his face. To say he was absolutely terrified would be an understatement; his face was paler than you’d ever seen it, and he had already started to worry a dent into his bottom lip. You opened your mouth to say something but were interrupted by a few familiar figures approaching the two of you. 

“Where have you two been?” Jim barked at the two of you, Fang, Ivan and Archie in tow. You tensed up, your brain immediately scrambling for an excuse. Not for you, of course; you had a solid alibi. But you knew Frenchie was never good at coming up with excuses on the spot, especially when he was guilty of whatever he was being questioned about. 

“I… we were napping. In the closet,” you half lied, covering for Frenchie on his behalf. 

Jim raised a brow, crossing their arms as they did so. “Together?”

Frenchie finally jumped to life at the question, snapping back to reality. “Huh? No! No, I was, umm, lookout. Yeah,” he interjected, not sounding very sure of himself. He was also sweating bullets, which only hindered their attempt at bluffing. 

Fang noticed Frenchie’s nervousness, but in true Fang fashion, completely misinterpreted it as he approached the anxious man. “Oh, it’s okay, Frenchie! We won’t let the vampire get to ya!” He went to wrap an arm around Frenchie, but he very quickly ducked out of the way, leaning closer to you. 

“N-no, that’s not-“

“What, do you think one of us is the vampire?” Ivan questioned, the offence clear in his tone. Frenchie could only violently shake his head before Jim marched closer to him.

“Well, none of us are vampires, right?” They aggressively gestured at the rest of the little group, doing their best to comfort Frenchie, in their own way. The rest of your buddies nodded along, but Frenchie’s expression only fell further at the exclamation. When Jim turned back towards him, Frenchie leaned his head away again. You squinted at him, trying to figure out why he was acting more peculiar than usual, and that’s when you realized: he took you literally when you said as long as no one saw his face closely he’d be fine. You bit your tongue in an attempt to keep yourself from screaming, exhaling heavily.

“What’s up with him?” A voice suddenly sounded from your left, and you nearly jumped five feet in the air in surprise. You whipped around to find Archie leaning over to you, peering at Frenchie with a puzzled expression. You paused, reeling for another excuse as your eyes darted between Archie and Frenchie, who was currently being crowded around by Jim, Ivan, and Fang.

“Oh, uhh, he’s probably just really paranoid,” you blurted out, crossing your arms over your chest to try and comfort yourself at this point, “he’s uh, extremely superstitious.” You had to stop yourself from sighing in relief when Archie nodded along to your explanation, seeming to believe you. 

“Alright!” Izzy’s hoarse voice startled you again, along with a few other unsuspecting people. “In the event of… this,” he grimaced, gesturing vaguely to the body that still lay on the floor, “we’re gonna have some rules going forward.

“First and foremost, every body and mark must be accounted for after a raid. If one’s missing, we look for it until we find it. We’re having everyone pair up for raids in case this fiend gets cheeky,” he pauses, surveying the room, “and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that if you see this… “vampire”, capture or kill it on sight.” You found yourself shuddering at his words, already kicking yourself for getting directly caught up in this mess. It was going to be an absolute pain in the ass to keep Frenchie hidden with the crew on edge like this, and on one hand, you were glad you could help him keep it under wraps. On the other hand? Getting caught meant death, likely for both of you.

Everyone stared at Izzy for a moment longer, the older man having gone silent. He suddenly snarled, waving his hands in front of him like he was shooing off vermin. “Well, get on with it then, you twats! Fuckin’ dismissed, Jesus!”

You jumped at the first opportunity of freedom from the cramped room, hardly being able to breathe with how anxious you were. You beelined for Frenchie, who had his back to you, set on getting him out of there as soon as you could. Jim had already stormed off, muttering about how the whole situation was stupid, with a concerned-looking Archie and Ivan following close behind. Fang looked like he was unsure about leaving Frenchie, who was unmoving where he stood, but he was just as eager to leave the room as you were. With a quick nod to him, he gave Frenchie’s arm one last pat before quickly exiting the room.

You were quick to put your hand on the small of Frenchie’s back as you approached him, trying to gently guide him out of the room. “Frenchie,” you urged quietly, still not being able to get a good look at his face. He swayed for a moment before lethargically turning to face you, his feet shuffling clumsily along the hardwood flooring of the kitchen. You couldn’t help the frown that appeared on your face when you finally made eye contact with him; he looked horrified.

“Can we go?” His voice was hardly above a whisper, cracking like he was on the verge of tears. You nodded quickly, pressing him forward and looping your arm behind his back instead, your hand resting on his waist. 

“‘Course,” you croaked, trying to keep yourself from glancing back at Izzy as you exited the room. However, you couldn’t stop yourself from catching a glimpse of the lifeless body still lying on the floor, feeling a pit of guilt forming in your gut.

The walk back to Frenchie’s room was tense, neither of you daring to speak a single word of the elephant in the room for fear of being overheard. The silence was deafening, suffocating, even. You wanted to comfort him, tell him he’d be alright, but every word died on your tongue before you were even able to open your mouth. Would he be alright? Would you be able to uphold that unspoken promise, or would you be lying through your teeth? The answer to that question was becoming more and more uncertain as you walked further from the kitchen.

Before you had reached his room, Frenchie mumbled your name, eliciting a hum in response from you. It took him a second to gather himself before he continued: “I’m… I’m worried,” he stated warily, unable to meet your gaze and once again fidgeting with his hands. The first rumble of thunder in what felt like hours could be heard in the distance, making him jump.

You sighed and patted him on the back, pulling him slightly closer to your side as you neared that familiar hallway. “You’ll be fine, man. I’ll make sure of it.”

End (for now ;P).

[spawn-of-filth]

just can't help how much I'm into gross lil weirdo, fucked up guys

[christakenotes]

[silliestofbilliest]

Finally catching up on season 2 😭😭💀

The first interview aka slagging off your ex for hours to your high friend who wanted to get railed by you in your coffin.

[tvdwardrobe]

Worn by Caroline Forbes on the Vampire Diaries on season 6 episode 21

Frenchi v-neck three-quarter sleeve cardigan in pink prism