theyalldeservesomepie - Tumblr blog

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Calling all snzblr artists! 🎨

Feel free to use these next month for any requests or inspo you may need. Let me know which ones you choose!

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I've been watching Con stuff and now I like Side Character #3 from M/idsomer M/urders (one episode. Literally 1 episode) way too much (Jim C/axton. He just wants to make cheese)

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“whY woUlD SAy ThAT, tHAT characTer IS liKe 50 yEarS oLd-“

Bitch I said out loud that I would fuck that old man until he was sputtering and creaming like a nearly finished Reddi-whip can.

[theyalldeservesomepie]

Persistence

This is the first fic I've posted on here in literal years but the gay pirates convinced me! I hope you guys enjoy Lucius bullying Izzy into resting! <3

—

"Are you still at it?"

Izzy glared upward, his eyes narrowed viciously and his lip curled up into an itchy snarl.

"Fuck off, scribe." He muttered.

Lucius glared right back at him.

There was no sympathy in his heart for the man who had given half the crew the nastiest head cold he had encountered in all of his travels. The ship's bunks were filled with damp sniffles, hacking coughs, and enough sneezing to nearly capsize The Revenge. Particularly when Fang and Ivan had begun to sneeze in near tandem, the sound loud enough to rattle the timbers until they had both finally returned to health.

Yet, somehow Izzy himself had not recovered.

The first mate was still just as wretchedly sick as when he had first started to share his misery.

As Lucius scowled at him, he couldn't help but notice that the lingering illness was practically painted over Izzy's sharp features. The red, chapped look that had been scrubbed into his nostrils, the faint sheen of fever sweat that dampened his slicked back hair, even the lines of exhaustion that were carved beneath his lower lashes as he sneezed his way through another miserable sounding fit.

"Nothing better to do than fuckin' stare?"

Lucius felt the tiny dregs of sympathy drain away as Izzy growled.

"Well, fine then." He sniffed. "I suppose I'll leave you to your misery."

From the corner of his eye, Lucius could spot the crew nodding vigorously at leaving Izzy alone. Especially with the double threat of his prickly personality and the near certainty of contagion.

"Sounds great to me." Izzy snapped.

Lucius pivoted on one heel, entirely ready to leave Izzy to his toxic mixture of germs and his usual waspish personality.

Except–

"Heh-Tcxhh!"

"Are you serious right now?"

Izzy only gasped, his nostrils flaring and his gloved hand snapping up to meet them in a viciously tight grip.

"Heh-Txchuu, HAH-Schiew." He let out a barking cough. "Hehh'Txxu, Ess'TXch, Heh …HHtt'ChXiew."

"Good lord, man. Try and take a breath sometime soon." Lucius spat out, ignoring the tiny flicker of concern that rose up in his chest as Izzy kept pitching forward over and over again. "Any more and you'll fall overboard."

"Real pirates do not fa-heh fall fucking overboard."

"But they do sneeze themselves half to death?"

Izzy glared again through eyes that were even more bloodshot and framed with irritated tears, his chapped lips parted to breathe through the insurmountable barrier of congestion.

"Look, Izzy, mate." Lucius started tersely. "You sound awful."

"Fuck off."

"Yes, yes, I know. You're so super tough and rugged and the most badass pirate ever."

"Damn right."

"But right now? This–"

"I said … fuck off." Izzy snarled, his glove finally dropping from his nose with a suspiciously wet sheen. "Or else."

Lucius eyed the sodden leather with disgust, hearing a few mumbles from the gathered crew also expressing their opinion on the utter grossness.

"Or else?" He echoed.

"Or else, I'll run you through until your internals become your externals."

Another ripple passed through the crew at the threat– unoriginal as it was for Izzy.

Lucius simply shrugged, purposefully flippant even despite the slight fizzle of concern still bubbling in his chest, and eyed the wet mess that was slowly dripping from the first mate's chapped nostrils and down onto his cravat collar.

"You wouldn't be the only one anymore, then."

The crew gasped.

Izzy let out a hoarse shout and stomped forward–

Only to freeze himself in place with another fit of sneezing interspersed with the same ragged sounding coughs.

"You … HA-Schxu. You won't be heh. I sw-heh swear that I'll–"

"Yes, I'm sure you will." Lucius cut off the series of choked off threats with a mocking grin. "But not right now."

"I can slice you to pi-heh-ces anyday. Any time."

"Between sneezes, hm?"

"Before, during, and after."

Lucius leered.

Slowly, he leaned back from Izzy's bloodshot glare until he was balanced on the heels of his boots and just barely touching the wood of the deck with the leather.

"At least then … I would be the only one in the crew to have not caught and suffered from your wretched head cold." He taunted. "A bit of a mercy, really."

From the corner of his eye, he could spot a few nods from the crew and hear muttered agreements along with some truly miserable sounding sniffling.

Izzy let out a growl as he lunged forward.

Only to stop in place– not to sneeze, but to pivot towards the below decks bunks and stomp off. Even as he spat out a few remaining curses and a lingering cough in his wake.

Lucius blinked at the suddenly empty deck.

"Well, that worked, didn't it."

Far better than he had ever expected, considering Izzy's usual ferocity and stubbornness. Although … maybe the man simply felt too awful to continue an almost pointless argument.

Around him, the crew converged into an oblivious mass of still pink noses and sweat damp hair as the root cause of their misery stormed down the steps like a hurricane.

As Lucius watched him stalk away, a treacherous part of him still couldn't help but hope that Izzy would take the opportunity to rest and recuperate from the prolonged illness that was clearly wreaking havoc on his body.

A larger part prayed to any deity listening that he wouldn't catch it himself.

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you wanted someone to talk to you so... in that shirtless scene, Izzy's midsection looks... quite nice... the way his stomach moves as he breathes. just. imagine how he'd look post-workout while dealing with a cold that's not bad enough to keep him from working out

Izzy’s surprised he finished the workout. I mean, he was determined to so not to look like a fool in front of the crew. But he’d been battling the worst of a cold for a few days now.

He would argue that today - day 4 - was the worst of it. He’d not given up his duties as first mate and so the lingering cold was now charting a path of its own, from his sinuses to his chest. It hadn’t quite reached its destination yet; leaving him a breathless, sputtering mess with a stuffy nose.

“Are you sure you should be working out Iz?” Frenchie asked cautiously when walking by.

The older man was pouring sweat - if not from his workout, from the fever that was plaguing him. He had taken his shirt off nearly half an hour ago to try and cool down.

“I did my job in addition to cleaning up after Edward. How about you do yours and FUCK OFF! I can finish a fucking workout…”

The intensive intervals definitely had him working up a sweat, but unfortunately that also meant opening up his sinuses. He sniffled relentlessly as he tried to continue on.

The familiar prickle started burning in the back of his nose, building slowly as his breath started to catch.

Izzy’s chest expanded once before he snapped forward with a sickly sneeze.

“H’ReeSHHuhew! NGSHHiew!!”

The spray scattered, some catching in his chest hair, making the crew in sight grimace.

“That’s disgusting.” Jim murmured, rolling their eyes and turning away.

“Thought you might need this.” Lucius walked up, holding out a handkerchief but not looking him in the eye.

“I don’t fucking need-”

“TAKE the handkerchief and go clean yourself up. It’s fucking embarrassing.”

The older man snatched the cloth out of his hand and grumbled as he trodded off towards his cabin, passing Ed on the way.

The captain sidestepped Izzy, holding hands up, “Whoa, Iz, you look like shit! You okay?”

His first mate stopped briefly out of respect, growling, “Got sent downstairs by the fucking boy.”

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IZZY SNZ FIC BASED ON ALLERGYENTHUSIAST PROMPT

I did a thing.

(Reposting the fic by itself because ik sometimes I don't read reblogs)

Please enjoy 821 words of Izzy Hands trying not to sneeze and wake up his captains who toootally only see him as a sex buddy🙄 and then enjoying the attention he receives when they wake up to help him out🤭 This was like so fucking self indulgent to write and I'm typing this out at 2:08 am because I've been writing for over 3 hours now and can't fucking stop cause TMI I could die happy if I was ever in Izzy's position.

Sneak Peek; "...This time, not even Izzy could deceive himself into thinking the tear that slid down his cheek was solely due to an itch. His face burned as he had to concede that he had just sneezed into Stede Bonnet's hand."

TW: sneezing/mentions of mess/mentions of negative thoughts regarding relationships/a touch of subspace? (doesn't have to be interpreted like that tho)/cursing

this is the prompt by allergyenthusiast; "

picturing a cozy cuddly couple where the little spoon's all snuggled up in a ton of blankets and their partner's arms, slowly waking up to the sounds of their partner's even breathing and an incessant, blossoming tickle in their nose. their arms are caught up in blankets and the big spoon still has their arm wrapped around them so all they can do is helplessly wriggle their nose and try to hold back quietly so they don't wake up their partner. just when they think they can't hold back anymore - they've been wispily hitching more and more, chest delicately but feverently heaving because the tickle is relentless and begging for release - the big spoon's hand lazily comes up to the little spoon's nose to gently rub at it soothingly, tiredly mumbling things like "i've got you" or "someone woke up feeling sneezy"or their hand comes up to cup their sneezy partner's nose with a mumbled little "bless you," too comfy and cozy to let them up for tissues

______________________________________________________________

Izzy lay wide awake in the dimly lit cabin, his breath steady, as he strained his eyes to fathom the cause of his sudden wakefulness. Had there been a breach in their security? Perhaps one of Bonnet's crew had fallen asleep on watch. He cautiously shifted to get out of bed, but a low grumble from behind him and a heavy arm thrown over his waist stopped his movements, pulling him into the warmth of the body behind. He froze, recognizing the scent of lavender and the comforting softness of a belly pressed against his back – it was Bonnet who lay behind him.

Over the past week, the three of them, Ed, Bonnet, and Izzy, had been fucking. It had all started after a near-disastrous raid, which seemed to have shaken something loose in Edward, which Izzy assumed prompted him to live life to the fullest or have a threesome with his first mate or some shit like that. Izzy didn't fully comprehend their complex arrangement, and he didn't want to ask, afraid that any inquiry might disrupt their delicate balance. He felt like an outsider they could easily discard, only needing a reminder of who they had invited into their bed.

This night marked the first time he'd fallen asleep immediately after they had done some admittedly exhausting positions that he knew he would regret in the morning. He suppressed the warmth that bloomed in his chest when he realized they'd cleaned him up, dressed him in a nightgown, and tucked him into bed with them. Could this be more than just a sex thing? He tried to dismiss the thought but drifted back to sleep with a small smile on his face.

When Izzy stirred again, he didn't bother to open his eyes. He was entangled in blankets, and Ste-Bonnet's arm still held him close. The warmth surrounding him made it difficult to be on immediate defense. He furrowed his eyebrows as an itch began to tickle the tip of his nose, initially subtle but growing insistent. He felt ridiculous at the surge of frustration that washed over him at the uncomfortable sensation.

With an experimental sniff, his eyes snapped open as the tickle escalated into a maddening itch. He scrunched his nose frantically, trying to subdue the burning irritation. He couldn't afford to wake Ed and Bonnet. This was his first time staying the night, and he couldn't disrupt their peace! His eyes welled up, and he was grateful he could attribute it to the nagging itch rather than panic over disturbing his captains. Because, oh, was his nose burning. He clamped his lips tightly to stifle his erratic breaths, but that forced him to breathe through his nose, intensifying the frenzy.

Struggling as gingerly as he could to free himself from the blankets, he accidentally bumped his knee into what felt like a stomach, causing him to freeze in horror. While he slept, Stede must have turned him around, trapping him with his back against the blonde, facing Edward. Squinting through teary eyes in the dim moonlight that sneaked through the curtain, Izzy could make out Ed's slumbering face, his silver hair glistening faintly. His chest heaved with desperate, irregular breaths as he fought to suppress what would undoubtedly be more than one sneeze, given the size of the itch.

"Hhh!...Heh…Hhngg." Izzy clenched his teeth, his breath wavering, chest heaving erratically, nostrils flaring, and lips pursed as he struggled to create enough pressure against the itching tip of his nose to quell the torment.

A low hum reverberated against Izzy's back, and he froze as Stede shifted, drawing him closer with a sleepy sigh. The battle between the desperation not to be discovered and the persistent itch in his nose raged on. For a blissful 30 seconds, silence prevailed, and Izzy offered silent thanks to whatever divine or mystical force Buttons had weirdly proclaimed was "keeping an eye on yer." Then, like a sudden sharp stab, an itch shot up his sinuses, and he couldn't hold back a desperate gasp. "Hh-?!!"

"Y'mm 'll'right?" came a groggy murmur from above his head. Damn, Bonnet had no business sounding so sultry with his raspy morning voice. Izzy allowed himself a fleeting thought about how he'd replay that in his mind later when they inevitably grew tired of him, leaving him only with his hand for company.

But a more immediate concern pressed on him, and he felt his cheeks flushing as he tried to respond, only managing to make things worse. "Gohahhh go to beHh-!? Nghhh..." He trailed off into a pitiful whimper as his lips involuntarily twisted into a snarl in a futile battle against the relentless itch. He could feel the bed shift as Bonnet raised himself up onto his elbow to peer down at the first mate. Izzy screwed his eyes shut to avoid what he knew was probably some unwarranted worried expression that had no business being directed towards men like him.

Just as he considered extracting himself now that Bonnet was awake, a warm hand gently rested on his twitching nostrils, causing him to instinctively jerk his head back, bumping into Bonnet's solid chest. "WhaHh-hii?!" "Shhhh," Stede whispered, "I've got you" his words slightly slurred by a yawn that cut them off at the end. However, his intent was unmistakable, and the captain's hand resumed its gentle caress of Izzy's arched nose. There were certainly things the first mate could do; he could probably elbow Stede in the solar plexus, roll over him, and make a break for it. But he couldn't find it in himself to entertain the thought for long. The relief Stede's hand brought to his distressed nose was nearly orgasmic.

But of course good things didn't last for Israel Hands, with no chance to give Bonnet a warning, his head dipped forward, and three stifled sneezes erupted, "Uh-Hnkt!! Hiihh-Hnxxxcht! Ichkkknt!" This time, not even Izzy could deceive himself into thinking the tear that slid down his cheek was solely due to an itch. His face burned as he had to concede that he had just sneezed into Stede Bonnet's hand. There was no fucking way they'd ever let him spend the night again, he'd be lucky if they didn't drop his sorry ass off at the next port for this shit. "Fuck" he choked out "Fuck sorry I-ahHii-" because, obviously, he wasn't finished; his nose had to continue tormenting him. No rest for the wicked and all that.

As his chest heaved frantically, he could scarcely register Bonnet pulling him tightly against him and uttering a soothing,"It's all right, love. I've got you, I don't mind," as he gently pinched the moisture off the quivering tip of Izzy's nose. The touch was overwhelming, pushing him over the edge once more. "Hhh…Heh… Hmpffshh!! Hmpffshh!  ‘Hep- KMMhh -eh!" This time, Stede had pressed a knuckle against his buzzing septum, resulting in embarrassingly muffled and airy sneezes.

"God bless you!" Stede exclaimed without any pretense of being quiet as the third man in the bed stirred. Izzy blinked his watering eyes open and met Edwards sleepy gaze with a breathy gasp. The long haired man's face was relaxed and his eyes were half lidded but sharp and clear. The shorter man swallowed at the intensity of the gaze and found himself pushing back into the comfort of Stede's warmth. Izzy barely had a moment to react before he pitched forward again, ducking his chin against his chest with a pronounced "Ichkkknt!" This time, it escaped him a bit more without Stede's assistance, and he blushed at the droplets of moisture glistening on the pristine sheet.

"Someone woke up feeling sneezy" Edward remarked, his tone laced with amusement and Izzy squirmed at the burst of pleasure that accompanied the overwhelming sense of humiliation. "Sorry boss" he rasped, fighting back the mucus that threatened to spill onto his upper lip with an angry snort. Finally granted a moment's respite from the tickle, he managed to work his hands free just in time to pinch his nostrils shut and clamp the other hand over his mouth. "Hih… Hhh… Hnink! Hnink !! Heh-??" Edward's calloused hands tugged his wrists, pulling Izzy's hands from his abused nose and Stede wrapped an arm firmly over his waist, preventing any attempt to squirm away.

"Edwa-hhnhh-" "Don't bother holding them back Iz. We're both already awake now" Edward's demand carried a hint of Blackbeard's authority, and Izzy couldn't help the pouty scowl that crept across his features. "I tried." he growled sniffing wetly. "He did dear" Stede purred sweetly into the junction of Izzy's shoulder, "You should've heard him, all stuttering whimpers and breathy gasps, desperate not to wake us." Izzy shuddered as Stede pressed an open mouthed kiss on his neck, "Nnggh" he tried to bite back the moan at the praise and at the heat in Edward's eyes.

"Oh yeah?" Ed inched forward, propping himself on an elbow and casting a shadow over Izzy, who had never felt smaller than now, sandwiched between his two captains, the tickle still fluttering in his nose.

"Not surprised, really. Iz always tries to do what's right for me, don't you?" Izzy could only nod dumbly and sniffle.

"Now, can you be good for both your captains and give us a sneeze that rids you of your tickle so we can..." "Sleep or...?" Stede pondered during the ensuing silence. Ed smirked, "Guess it depends on whether or not Iz can be good for us." He pulled Izzy's hands towards his chest and motioned with his chin toward the man's quivering nostrils. "Help him out, mate," he encouraged Stede.

Izzy was sure he was about to fucking combust into flames. The way the two men were looking down at him, the casual dismissal in the way they spoke as though he wasn't even there, the fucking praise!? Not to mention the humiliation and vulnerability that arouse from the itch in his nose? He didn't think he had ever been this turned on and his mind felt floaty in a way that usually came after sex.

But now, Stede was delicately tracing circles around Izzy's damp nostrils with a meticulously manicured nail, and Izzy couldn't help but turn his head away. "Tsk," Edward tightened his grip on Izzy's wrists. "Do I need to hold you still, Izzy?" he asked. "No sirrhhah" Izzy forced out between gasping breaths, turning his head back to face Edward and allowing Stede to continue his ministrations on his nose.

It wasn't long before the itch reached its peak, and Izzy let himself release with the first sneeze, "Hnxxxcht!" "Don't suppress them, dear," Stede's words were compassionate but held a stern undertone, and after a moment of internal struggle, Izzy yielded and snapped forward with a fit that sprayed the sheets, his arms and Edward's hands and chest, "hh–ih’pSCHHh…Hih…Ih’dYSCHh’iew!! Hihh… Hih-Ht'kpshh! Hhah’pTSH!! KhH-! HdDtssCCHh! Hhih- TSHEEW!!"

"Bless yew!" Stede exclaimed, emphasizing the "you" in the same manner Izzy had ended his final sneeze. Izzy slumped against Stede, his lower face glistening from the evidence of his powerful fit. He sniffled weakly, not appearing to make much of an effort or particularly caring about his surroundings.

"You okay, Iz?" Edward inquired, releasing the man's arms and using a blanket to wipe the remnants off the other man's face. "Hmmngh," Izzy hummed, closing his eyes and leaning into Ed's hand with a contented sigh.

"I think he may be a little fuzzy right now, dear," Stede observed, his affection evident in his expression and voice. "Yeahhh," Ed sighed, gazing at the small man nuzzling his face into his palm with a look bordering on awe.

"Let's get him to bed, hm?" Stede suggested, settling back down and subtly adjusting himself. Ed followed suit, crooning softly as Izzy grumbled while being repositioned to fit snugly between them.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, yet the atmosphere was so tranquil and laden with affection that they all soon drifted into a peaceful slumber. Who knew, maybe tomorrow the captains would gather the courage to confess their feelings to Izzy, and maybe Izzy would reciprocate. Maybe they could live happily ever after, occasionally taking advantage of their first mate's sensitive nose...

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thinking abt. handing a tissue to someone who's about to sneeze - but instead of just taking the tissue, they grab your hand and sneeze into the tissue while you're still holding it,,,,

[theyalldeservesomepie]

having thoughts of a couple in bed sharing an absolutely miserable head cold. They’re both propped up with pillows to watch movies or try to read, even though their heads are stuffed full of aching congestion. There’s a full box of tissues between them and steaming mugs of tea on their respective bedside tables. It’s day 3 of this cold, their symptoms are the worst they’ve been since both of them came home from work with scratchy throats two days before. They can’t even snuggle up to each other, as they’re both too warm from their fevers.

I’m thinking of them lying together in silence, only it’s not silence, because there is no respite from their cacophony of symptoms. When one sneezes, the other’s coughing. When one blows their nose, the other launches into a fit of hitching and sneezing. There’s a constant sound of one or both of them sniffling. On more than one occasion, they let out a snotty sneeze at the same time, and can’t help but think that this misery of cold symptoms will never end.

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We’ve all heard of allergy/cold denial, but how about allergy/cold *convincing*?

Dialogue for thought~ “h-how many times do I have to shove these -hih- flowers up to my face and s-sn -heeze before you g-get.. the pic-HH- TURE—“

[theyalldeservesomepie]

one of my absolute FAVORITE snz moments in a film; his congested voice is just so-

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If you're still taking requests, maybe 🧣🌡️🤧 with Izzy + Stede, please?

Stede peered over his coffee mug at Izzy, who was working on the Saturday crossword with a pencil in one hand and a balled up tissue in the other. Every few seconds, Izzy sniffled or shivered. Ed was still blissfully carefree about Izzy's health, still working on his French toast. When Izzy sneezed and blew his nose, eyes still on the crossword, Stede huffed.

“What, Bonnet?” Izzy asked, gaze snapping to Stede.

“Your cold is getting worse,” Stede said, frowning.

“I'm fine,” Izzy countered. He noticed Ed had settled back, coffee in hand, to watch them bicker.

“You're working too hard.”

“We have bills to pay, Stede,” Izzy croaked. “It's getting near Christmas. You are the one planning a vacation for us and the kids in April.”

“I have the funds to cover the whole trip,” Stede said, frowning. He pushed back his curls.

“And I will have the funds to cover my bit,” Izzy said. He looked at Ed. “What you think this is? Dappled horse, nine letters.” Izzy sneezed again.

“Appaloosa,” Ed said.

“Thanks,” Izzy said.

Stede rounded on Ed. “You think you're clever!”

“B-B-onnet–that was the–” And Izzy let out another harsh sneeze.

“It was the answer,” Ed said. “Bless you, Iz. You do seem pretty sick.”

“Yeah, well,” Izzy said, not finishing the thought before returning to his crossword.

Stede put down his coffee mug. “You're too sick to go to Costco.”

Izzy's head whipped up. “What? What about my list?”

“I'm sure Ed and I can manage.”

“You bloody well cannot!” Izzy said, clearing his throat afterwards in an effort not to cough.

Ed whistled. “Low blow, Stede. Izzy loves Costco.” He mopped up the maple syrup on his plate with the last bite of his French toast.

“It’s not like you could taste the samples anyway with your head so stuffy,” Stede said. “And we clearly can't put it off. You'll need supplies and Ed and I will too very shortly, I imagine.”

“I'll wear a mask,” Izzy said. “I won't eat any samples. That's not why I want to go.”

“A mask won't make your fever better,” Stede said. “You're shivering.”

“It's fucking cold,” Izzy complained.

“Ehhhh, it's not too bad today,” Ed said. “Even your temperature settings are bearable.”

Izzy pinched his nose to quell another sneeze. He ended up stifling into his hand, mess spilling out. “Ugh,” he said, wiping his hand on his pajama pants.

Stede's nose wrinkled. He leaned over and put his hand on Izzy’s forehead. “Just what I thought,” Stede said. He stood and walked to the bathroom.

“You know what you have to say to get him to let you go,” Ed said, sipping his coffee.

“Shut up,” Izzy said, sniffing.

Stede returned with something in his hand. Before Izzy could move away, Stede stuck a thermometer in his ear and pressed the button. “99.8,” Stede said.

“Not a fever,” Izzy said, smirking.

“But you're on your way there,” Stede said ominously.

“Stede…” Izzy said, trailing off and then sniffling again. “Will you let me go if I let you get me ready?”

Stede put his hands on his hips. “Will you do everything I say?”

“Yeah,” Izzy said, defeated.

“Ok,” Stede said. “Let me find the ibuprofen. Get your list.”

__

Twenty minutes later, Izzy stood near the door, wearing thermal underwear, jeans, Stede's thick aran sweater and a blue knit hat. His nose was dripping and bright red, his lips chapped. He'd been dosed with ibuprofen, but his eyes were still starting to get a feverish glaze and he felt a little giddy. From this point on Stede was going to poke and prod at him till he got over his cold. He didn't want to admit it, but he felt miserable. He'd feel more miserable not being able to spend time with Stede and Ed this weekend.

Stede put some containers and a thick red wool scarf on the kitchen table and beckoned Izzy over. Ed was drawing on his tablet, but again he sat back to watch them. With all the clothing, movement felt awkward, but Izzy was finally warm. Stede briskly positioned him so they stood face to face. “Now, let me know if you need to sneeze or cough. I'd rather one of us catch them.”

“I'm good,” Izzy said, grumpy. The same tingle in his sinuses he'd had all week was there in the background, but he ignored it.

Stede opened a jar of petroleum jelly and scooped up a small gob. He spread it delicately under Izzy's nose and on his lips. The skin burned less after, but the touch made the itch fire up, and Izzy pinched his nose hard and stifled two short sneezes almost silently.

“Don't stifle,” Stede demanded.

“I've got to. You're standing right there.”

Stede snatched three tissues from the box and put them in Izzy's hand. “I believe you know how to use those.” Stede then unscrewed the jar of chest rub. He dipped his fingers in, getting what to Izzy seemed like an excessive amount. Stede pulled up the collar of his sweater and the thermal underwear and smeared it on.

“It's too much–” Izzy said, before ducking away to sneeze twice in a row. Ed laughed but quickly turned it into a clearly fake cough.

Stede sniffed. “Your nose can barely take a little camphor.”

“Give me a moment,” Izzy said, but his nose felt even itchier as the vapor broke through his congestion. He blew his nose, using a new handful of tissues after the first were done.

While he did that, Stede tied the earloops of a mask together with string. “What's all that for?” Izzy asked, emerging from the tissues.

“It'll keep it secure and keep the mask from hurting your ears.” Stede slid the mask over Izzy's face and adjusted it, then swiped at his own nose.

“I hate sneezing in a mask. Can I put it on at the store?”

“If you're too sneezy to handle wearing it till we get back, then you're too sick to go.”

“Fine,” Izzy grumbled, sniffling.

“Besides,” Stede said, holding up the scarf. “I'm wrapping you up in this and you have to keep it on so your cold doesn't go to throat and chest like it usually does.”

“Don't think a scarf will stop that,” Izzy said, frowning. Stede could see his eyebrows come together.

“Well, then, you can stay home,” Stede said primly.

“Just do it, Iz,” Ed said, yawning. “I already want to be back and take a nap.”

At this, Stede gave Ed a suspicious look and leaned over to feel his forehead. “Hmmm,” Stede said, clearing his throat. “No fever. Yet.”

“I'm not even sniffling,” Ed complained.

“You always get tired first,” Stede countered. “You take a nap in the middle of the day and wake up with your nose running like a tap.”

“Meh,” Ed said darkly. Izzy gave a short laugh. Stede was right.

Stede sighed. “We'll have to get more tissues.” He returned to wrapping the scarf around and around Izzy's neck, occasionally pulling out a tissue, smearing some chest rub on it, and tucking it in the folds.

Even Izzy could smell it. “You’ve turned me into a walking cough drop.”

“Good. People will avoid you,” Stede said.

Izzy blinked, his eyes watering. He sneezed helplessly, feeling the slime caught in his mask. “This is horrible.”

Stede gave him an appraising look. “If you bring the tissue box with you, you can wear the mask inside the store only. But you need to cover. Ed’s already coming down with your cold–”

“Am not,” Ed said, before sniffling.

“--and I'd like to avoid it if I can.”

Izzy noticed that Stede's face was pinker than usual. He spied the ear thermometer and with a speed that amazed him given the bulk of his clothing, he stood on his toes and took Stede’s temperature.

“99.1,” Izzy read out. “Looks to be too late for that. We’ve got plenty of scarves around here, don't we?”

…

[I'm laughing at the image of the three of them masked up, wrapped in scarves, and so mentholated the crowds part as they walk into Costco, putting a huge thing of tissues in their cart.]

[Feel free to send prompts, I've made a list, and I'm still not feeling great so I'm being very self indulging]

[theyalldeservesomepie]

this is probably the worst possible time to share this but it appears I care very little about timing. I've had this written for months now, before s2 even, with the idea of continuing it but I haven't got around to writing more. so. I know this comes off as Izzy having the kink but my intention was simply to write Izzy as being weird about everything Ed related (it's not the cold Izzy enjoys, it's the intimacy he reads into the situation) but of course you are free to read it either way.

Ed punishes Izzy by giving Izzy his cold. A massive CW for intentional contagion, use of deragatory language (Ed repeatedly calls Izzy a freak), copious amounts of mess... Ed being almost his worst self.

*

"Ed. Ed. Listen to me you fucking twat."

Ed turns around sharply, rubbing a hand under his nose and giving Izzy a stern look. Izzy almost falters, the heaviness of Ed's demeanour almost crushing him, but only almost.

"You really should get some fucking rest. You are fucking sick and need to act accordingly."

Ed looks at him, his eyes squinting in a way that never means good. Izzy knows what kind of thoughts run through his head when he does that and he knows he should be worried about what Ed plans to do with him - after all he is still Blackbeard even if he so very often does things Izzy considers not to be worth the name - but the bit of nervousness quickly turns into a bit of excitement.

There's no real reason to be nervous though, which almost kills the mood, because they are on Stede's ship with Stede lurking around somewhere, ready to disapprove of any choice of Ed's to get rough with Izzy. Still though, Ed is in A Mood, Izzy knows that. He had heard the two captains argue over Ed's life choices just earlier, about the same fucking shit Izzy is trying his luck with, and he'd seen the signs of Ed's temper running thin. In the old days, or maybe when away from Stede and Stede's rules, he could be a danger to anyone in moments like this.

"To your quarters", Ed says after a moment of silent pondering. Izzy can't help the twinge in his stomach, more excited than anxious even though he could only think of one reason why Ed would want him there. He's probably stepped a line, and Izzy's quarters offer relative safety from Stede's judgement.

–

"You really think I'm gonna take a fucking sick day, Izzy?" Ed asks when they get inside. "I expect this shit from Stede, but y… hh… you?"

Ed sniffles repeatedly and rubs his nose, trying in vain to will down the itch that's been persistently bothering him all day. He sneezes into a cupped hand, sniffles thickly, and sneezes again. With only Izzy around he doesn't hold back, Izzy realises with a happy little tingle. He's a sneezy, snotty mess and Izzy is the one who gets to witness it. He has been more careful with Bonnet all day, not that Izzy would have spied on them or anything. Ed sneezes a third time and sniffles again, pinch wiping his nose and wiping his hand on Izzy's sheets. Izzy frowns, but he only minds so much.

"Do you fucking have to? Those are my fucking sheets and I have to fucking sleep in your fucking snot now."

"Oh shut up or I'll blow my nose in them as well."

Ed turns his attention back to Izzy. Izzy isn't sure what it is, does his expression betray him or is it something else, but Ed seems to catch on to his pleasure.

"Oh you fucker, you are enjoying this? Ohhh you freaky fuck, you are, aren't you."

Ed is hard to read in the moment, but he grabs Izzy by his shirt and presses him on the bed. The sheets under his head are wet and slick where Ed had wiped the snot. Ed sits on top of him, locking his hands under his legs, towering over Izzy and looking positively fierce. His nose is running, Izzy notices, thick congestion threatening to spill out.

"What the fuck are we to do with such a fucking freak?" Ed asks. He rubs the tip of his nose and Izzy swears he's intentionally avoiding wiping off the snot. He does sniffle though, but it seems to be more to demonstrate just how congested he's grown in just a moment than to try and control the running. Some snot even bubbles out when he lets out the breath he'd taken in, and his lack of interest in cleaning it up is further evidence to Izzy he doesn't care. Or maybe that's not the best way to put it. He's putting on a show to shame Izzy, and Izzy is enjoying every moment of it.

"Oh that fucking itches", Ed says, rubbing the tip of his nose again. He scratches at the edges of his nostrils, first the upper corners, then right where the snot is. There's snot spilling out of the other side now as well.

"Maybe you deserve to get this all over yourself", Ed says, swiping the finger he'd just scratched his snotty face with down Izzy's cheek. "I bet you'd fucking like that, wouldn't you? Fucking freak."

Ed coughs, snot bubbling out of his nose with the force. Ed snuffles and snorts and the bubble pops, thick, warm snot falling on Izzy's cheek.

"I fucking bet you'd really fucking enjoy yourself if caught this", Ed says, grabbing a hold of Izzy's chin to keep his face still. He seems to be gearing up for another sneeze, eyes squinting in irritation as his nose quivers and breath grows uneven, and yet he keeps talking. "You'd be a real fucking mess, too, wouldn't you? I've seen you sick, Iz, and it's not fucking pretty. You should learn to fucking control yourself."

Ed manages to get the sentence out fine despite the obviously growing itch. His voice grows airy and his expression turns more itchy, but those are just about the only signs of his losing battle right until the moment he takes a sharp breath and sneezes right on Izzy's face. He has time to give Izzy a look, tendrils of snot hanging from his nose and more plastered on Izzy's face, before his eyes press shut involuntarily as another sneeze forces its way out of him. It's a proper fit, and Izzy can't help but watch how each explosion expels more thick, discoloured snot right on his face. Ed gives a thick, soupy sniffle after what at first seems to be the end of the fit, and manages to coax out one final sneeze, which might have been the messiest of them all. Ed needs a moment to collect himself and to recover. The fit seems to have taken a lot out of him.

"You are going to get so fucking sick, Iz. All because you can't just mind your own fucking business."

Ed leans forward and presses one nostril shut and blows hard, a load of snot spilling right on Izzy's own nose and mouth. Ed takes a deep breath and blows again, and again, emptying that side of his cold filled nose on Izzy. It's disgusting and Izzy can't avoid getting a load of it inside his nose as he tries to keep breathing like his face wasn’t covered in thick, slick snot. But he also can't deny this whole display has made him so fucking aroused he's ready to burst in his pants.

"Ahh, fuck that's so much better", Ed groans. He straightens up, grabs Izzy's pillow and brings it to his face. Of course he does. He clears the other nostrils on the pillow, doing a very thorough job, and wipes the mess that's spilled on his face on it the best he can. He throws it back on its place and turns his attention to Izzy again.

"Fuck you are a fucking mess, man. You should see yourself. Fucking do something about that."

Ed shifts, getting up and letting Izzy's hands free. He gives Izzy a once over, eyes lingering on his crotch for a moment before he presses his hand there, giving Izzy a teasing rub through his clothes. Izzy gasps, back arching. He's so fucking close to a fucking orgasm from just… fuck.

"How the fuck does that turn you the fuck on?" Ed asks, undoing Izzy pants to slip a hand beneath, rubbing Izzy hard, his fingers travelling up and down his wet folds and around his clit. And just like that he pulls his hand away, leaving Izzy desperate for more and ready to fucking beg for it.

"Take care of your own fucking self", Ed says.

"Please, Ed. Please."

Ed doesn't listen to his pleas, doesn't say a word as he wipes his fingers on Izzy's sheets and turns away. He's at the door of Izzy’s room before he stops and speaks.

"I expect you back on deck as soon as you've cleaned the fucking mess you've got on yourself."

With that Ed opens the door and steps outside, the door slamming shut behind him. Izzy can faintly make out the sound of his footsteps as he walks away.

[theyalldeservesomepie]

well, well, well, i have finally written my first fic for tumblr. and my first fic for doctor who. lots of firsts. here’s ten being an attention whore and donna being the only sensible person in the room.

~~~~

“You feeling alright, Spaceman?” The Doctor heard Donna ask after he sneezed for the tenth time that morning.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Quite alright. Right as rain,” he rambled as he fiddled with the TARDIS controls.

He was almost finished calculating the route for their next destination when he buried his face in his shoulder to muffle an intense sneeze.

“Ehh’ESHHUhuh!”

“Bless you…. again,” Donna said with a small smirk.

“Don’t look at me like that,” The Doctor grumbled. “Just the sniffles.”

He expected Donna to question him like Martha or feel his forehead like Rose, but she merely shrugged and leaned back against the railing.

“So, where are we going this time?” she asked casually. “A planet with bird people or something?”

“Actually- sNff- I was thinking Earth,” he waited for Donna’s mouth to drop slightly before he continued. “Earth… in the year 4568.”

“You mean- we are going to Earth? In the future?” she asked, her eyes instantly lighting up.

This was his favorite part of traveling with companions. Getting to see their excitement as they expanded their mind past that of the average human.

“Oh, yes,” he grinned. He locked eyes with an ecstatic Donna before snapping his head away to cough. The coughs were dry for now, mild enough to muffle with his hand, but he knew they would get worse. They always did on the rare occasions he managed to pick up a rhinovirus.

“Well then, what are we waiting for?” Donna exclaimed. “Come on Alien Boy, land the TARDIS and let’s go!”

He flashed her a grin before following her orders. He managed to pinpoint the year, although he wasn’t exactly sure where on Earth they would land. He was personally hoping for Brazil. There was a lot happening there this year.

“And here we are!” he announced as the TARDIS landed. “Planet Earth in the year 4568, how about that?”

“Oh, this is going to be brilliant!” Donna laughed. “Please tell me we are somewhere warm. I wouldn’t mind sunbathing in the Caribbean.”

“Let’s find out,” he grinned. He was about to open the TARDIS door when he was overcome with an itch in his nose. He tried to sniff it away, but the irritation was too strong. He buried his face in his arm and let out a wet triple.

“Huh’MMPSHH! IM’PSSHhh! hh’NXGHhh!”

He attempted to discretely wipe his nose on his sleeve and sniffled rapidly to prevent his nose from running.

“Bless you,” Donna said.

“sNFF- excuse me,” he muttered as he turned to face her. Her face dropped into a slight frown.

“Doctor,” she said as she placed a hand on his arm. “You sure you’re feeling up to this?”

“Never better,” he forced on a tired smile. Of course, he didn’t actually expect that response to work. It was always at this point in the illness that the lies stopped working on his human companions. Donna would surely call off the adventure, make him some tea, and send him off to bed.

“Alright then, onward,” she smiled, holding out an arm to him.

Huh. That’s unusual. All of his other companions (especially the female ones, although he didn’t actually believe in silly gender stereotypes) would be doting over him by now. He always acted annoyed on the surface, but, truthfully, he enjoyed the attention. Did Donna really not realize he was ill? Did she think it was just dust or something.

The Doctor forced out a few more coughs and glanced over to Donna to see her reaction. It was as if she hadn’t even heard him. He suppressed a frown and linked his arm with hers as they stepped outside.

The pair exited the TARDIS and were immediately hit with a blast of frigid air. The Doctor was forced to break away from Donna as the coldness filled his lungs, causing him to cough.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me!” Donna shouted, completely ignoring the sudden coughing fit coming from the Time Lord beside her. “What is it with you and taking me to freezing places?”

“I didn’t know we were going to land in-“ wait, where were they? The doctor tried to smell the air to figure out the location, but his nose was completely stuffed. He used the opportunity to sniffle dramatically, giving a quick glance to Donna to see if she had noticed. She hadn’t.

Giving up on his senses, he pulled out the sonic screwdriver to figure out where they had landed.

“Hmm… Oh! Well, isn’t that brilliant?” he said as he scanned the earth.

“What? What is it?” Donna asked.

“We’re in Antarctica.”

“Antarctica?” Donna yelled. “Bloody Antarctica? What the hell are we going to do in Antarctica?” she scoffed.

“There’s plenty to do!” The Doctor assured. “Antarctica is much more developed in this time than it is in yours. This is rural land, but there’s a town about a mile from here.”

“Ugh, okay, but it better be good,” Donna said in a way that sounded like a threat. “I’m grabbing a coat.”

The Doctor dramatically pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket as she trudged back into the TARDIS. He was starting to get annoyed with Donna’s complete lack of awareness. She had to have noticed he wasn’t feeling well. Did she just not care?

He shook his head as he blew his nose. He was considerably less congested afterwards and sighed in relief as he realized he could ever so slightly breathe through his nose. Unfortunately, the rush of cool air to his sinuses only irritated them more.

“Hhh-hAESHhhh! Hh’EESSHhh!”

He quickly pressed the handkerchief against his nose to stop it from running.

“Now, that’s more like it,” Donna announced as she reemerged wearing a thick winter coat. At least that’s what The Doctor thought she said. It was pretty hard to hear while he was blowing his nose.

“Lead the way, Spaceman!” she said.

“Donna,” he said in an exasperated tone as he wiped his nose and pocketed the handkerchief.

“Hmm?” she hummed obliviously.

“I’m ill,” he stated, finally saying it out loud.

“Yeah.”

The Doctor’s jaw dropped. Yeah? That was all she had to say? She must have heard him wrong.

“Donna, I’m not feeling well. Under the weather. Sick,” he pressed.

“Yes, I know what ill means, Dumbo,” she said with an eye roll. “What’s your point?”

“What’s my- what’s my point?” he stuttered in shock. “My point is that I am clearly ill, and you don’t seem to care! You’re still dragging me on this adventure.”

“Oi! Don’t you dare!” she snapped.

It was at that moment that The Doctor realized he had made a mistake. He did not want to face the wrath of Donna Noble.

“I asked you if you felt up to it! I’m not going to stop you from going out with a little cold if you say you’re fine, which you did.”

“So, what? I was supposed to say no? Tell you that I would rather spend the day in bed?”

“Yes!” she shouted, clearly fed up. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a moment to gather her thoughts. “Christ, you are an absolute idiot.”

“Huh,” he voiced, the cogs turning in his head. “You- you didn’t object to this trip because you trusted my judgement,” he said as it finally clicked. “You trusted me to make the call regarding my health.”

“Yeahhh,” she stretched out the word in exasperation. “Silly me, thinking a 900 year old martian would know how to take care of himself by now.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not from Mars?” The Doctor groaned. His companion gave him a look that screamed “You are not helping.”

“Right, not the point, um-“ he was unable to finish his thought as a fluttering sensation filled his sinuses.

“Hhh’hAHSHEIWW! Hah’ESCHh!”

“Come on, Doctor,” Donna sighed, grabbing his arm and leading him towards the TARDIS. “I think we ought to take a day to relax, don’t you?”

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement, leaning into her as they walked. “Can my day of relaxation include a nice cup of tea?”

“Sure, if you make it yourself.”

The Doctor frowned and turned towards Donna with an expression that resembled that of a kicked puppy. She rolled her eyes but was unable to hide her amused smile.

“Fine, I’ll make you tea. But if you want soup or something, you’re on your own.”

[theyalldeservesomepie]

in honor of the 60th anniversary doctor who specials coming out soon, may i point out the beauty that is sick!ten with donna?

ten’s other companions would be worried about him and want to take care of him, but donna? absolutely not.

donna noble would not take care of a whiny man with a cold. she would say, “come on, spaceman! get over it!” at least she would until it gets bad enough that she thinks, “oh shit, maybe he isn’t being dramatic.”

good shit

[theyalldeservesomepie]

because I cannot not think about the pirate show...

(pre s1) Ed catching a cold that's just. barely there. he's maybe a little sniffly and his nose itches a bit but really it could be anything. he's planning with Izzy, maybe, and keeps sniffling every now and then, prompting Izzy to ask him if he's caught cold.

Ed's like nah, just an itchy nose, it's nothing.

but of course it's not nothing and Izzy catches it and he's just so much worse than Ed was and Ed's just like. oh that is what it was, okay

[theyalldeservesomepie]

izzy, sneezing. self-unaware fet stede trying and failing to be normal about it. wrote this in a rush after seeing the preview for eps six and seven. spoilers ahead for season 2 of ofmd, including the next episode preview!!!! inspo pic also below the cut (it’s a screenshot of the preview that aired after the ep i think. its also on the official twitter. so basically nothing secret-secret but does contain spoilers for upcoming eps.)

——

Stede’s still waiting for his turn with the greasepaint. He’s a bit put out about not being first, but he’s enjoying watching the crew’s transformations: Jim is delighted with their new moustache, and Wee John, who has appointed himself head makeup artist, is undeniably a vision. Even Izzy has joined in — though with his newfound camaraderie with the crew, perhaps Stede shouldn’t be surprised. 

He also, perhaps, shouldn’t be surprised that his growing attraction to Izzy is only fuelled by the sight of him all made up. With dramatically shadowed cheekbones, highly arched brows drawn an inch or so above his own — which Wee John has cleverly hidden with soap and white powder — and his face powdered to within an inch of its life, he’s a striking figure. Stede has to pop downstairs for a moment, ostensibly to check on dinner, to get these odd feelings under control. 

When he emerges, though, Izzy is struggling. 

Stede’s noticed that Izzy normally pinches his nose when he stifles, or squashes it cruelly against his wrist. Not that he’s looking — or looking any more often or with any other agenda than a good captain looks at his first mate, anyway. It has nothing to do with how Izzy’s eyes soften now when they look at Stede, and how his hands are warm when he adjusts Stede’s stance. It certainly has nothing to do with how the flaring of his nostrils, or a stray sneeze muffled in a handkerchief, set something stirring in Stede’s belly for reasons he doesn’t quite understand. Anyway, he is as observant and attentive as a good captain should be, and in that time has somehow become familiar with Izzy’s sneezing habits, which he’s sure is perfectly fine and natural.

This time, though, Izzy’s not got a hand or a handkerchief blocking the sneezing fit, which has clearly started while Stede was below. With his elbow hovering awkwardly almost a foot in front of his face, Stede has an ample view of the helpless, clenching expression on Izzy’s face every time he stifles a sneeze. Held back, they’re kittenish, a hard nasal sound of congestion followed by a softer, almost shhing sound on the exhale, and Izzy seems completely unable to stop them. Stede counts seven with barely an inhale between them. “Good god,” Stede says when Izzy manages to catch a breath, trying to sound as normal as possible, “what’s got into you?”

“It’s the powder.” Izzy scrunches his nose up and from side to side, snorting a little as he tries to rid himself of the itch without touching it. “Got— hahh—!” He pauses for a single beat, face at war, and valiantly struggles to continue. “Got some up my nohhhse— heh! hehh—! hh!” Beneath the arched, penciled lines Stede can see his real, powdered-over eyebrows pull up towards his hairline, then crash down as he loses the battle. “HEIYSHHWW!” He raises his hands just in time, holding them a few inches in front of his face as a shield for the wet, crashing sneeze. He sucks in a deep breath and immediately bursts forth with another, impatiently nipping at the heels of the first now that he’s given it an opening. “HEHHEISSHOOH!” 

“Don’t you dare touch your face!” Wee John yells over, from where he’s drawing elaborate cheekbones on Black Pete. 

“I’m not!” Izzy yells back, though the effect is slightly ruined by the desperate snuffle he gives afterward. “Though if I could just blow my fucking nose—”

“And ruin all my hard work?”

“I’m not going t—huhh! stop until I do—”

“Do you know how hard a contour is when you’ve not got a professional kit? I’ve had to make brushes out of—”

“EISSHHOOOH!” Izzy has to grip onto the rail from the force of that one, sneezing full throttle towards the deck in what Stede can only assume is a desperate attempt to work the powder from his nose. “HEISSHHOO! HEHHSHHOO! hehh—- oh, fuck mheh— HAISSH’IEW!” That one, the third in a rapid, itchy sequence, raises in both pitch and volume. Stede watches, entranced, as Izzy tosses his head back: in that pose, with Izzy’s nostrils flaring wide and erratic and mouth twisting, he can’t help think of the erstwhile charging unicorn figurehead. He misses it, though he has to admit its parts have been put to good use. 

Izzy inhales once, twice, filling his lungs with a gasping “hah! —hahhh! HAH—!” He stays frozen like that for a second, and Stede can only imagine the tickle that the microscopic grains of fine powder must be causing in his sinuses, to cause him such torment — and then he crashes down towards his open palms with a tremendous “HAHHRRSSHHHUIEWW!” His head drifts backwards again, almost of its own accord, despair in the glimmering wetness of his narrowing eyes; the darkness Wee John applied around them is starting to run. 

Perhaps it’s that small detail — the smudge of black beneath Izzy’s lower lash line, wet and vulnerable. Or perhaps it’s the fact that despite his obvious discomfort, Izzy has, in accordance with Wee John’s wishes, not touched his face in an obvious attempt to preserve his makeup. Something about it is achingly sweet, which isn’t a feeling Stede would have ever thought he’d associate with Izzy Hands. But that was before, and this is now, and there’s also the fact that something about Izzy’s desperation is giving Stede an odd tingling sensation in his stomach. 

Whatever the driving force behind his next impulse, Stede’s acting on it before he can think any better. Just as Izzy topples over the precipice of the next sneeze, Stede snaps his handkerchief out of his pocket and steps forward, cupping his fabric-coated hand over Izzy’s nose and mouth to give him the relief he’s been so desperate for and has thus far denied himself. Stede feels as much as hears the dull roar, a “HAASHMPHHuh!” that is, at least, a little less throat-tearingly abrasive than those previous. Izzy makes to pull away, but Stede reaches out to grip his elbow for support — he’s let go of the rail, and Stede doesn’t want him to fall. 

Izzy doesn’t fight him, though perhaps that’s because Stede can already feel his nose twitching in the handkerchief, the panting gusts of breath on Stede’s palm signifying that he’s far from done. Stede can’t help himself but give the widening domes of Izzy’s teased nostrils a firm rub through the cloth, just to help it along. It prompts a smothered set of four, near-identical “HEISSHmmf!” noises that come without a breath in between them, and then Izzy heaves a ragged gasp and unleashes a last, enormous sneeze. “HEHSSHHMMPHHuhhh!” It’s a loud, open-mouthed thing even when muffled, and trails off into a sigh. 

The swooping, tingling feeling in Stede’s stomach has moved below the belt. It’s becoming a bit of an issue, and as Izzy seizes the cloth to bury his face into he does a quick readjustment of his coat to hide the evidence.

“Jesus Mary and Joseph,” Wee John says, sounding both concerned and impressed. “You okay?” 

Izzy, apparently conceding the battle, blows his nose hard into the handkerchief’s folds. When he emerges, it’s pink and bare — a sharp contrast to the rest of his powdered face — and his mascara has smudged into a style more befitting the Kraken’s reign.

“Awk, you looked gorgeous, too,” Wee John says, crestfallen. 

“Sorry,” Izzy says, voice a little more threadbare than usual, “couldn’t stop once I got started.” He dabs firmly under his nose, as though to punctuate the whole affair. 

“Ah, no matter,” Wee John decides, magnanimously. “Good to get the practice in, I suppose. You’ve a lovely nose for contour but I don't think I got the angles quite right last time.” He pats Pete’s shoulder. “You’re done, love. Izzabella, get back over here. And don’t breathe in this time while I’m setting your face.” 

“Give a man a minute,” Izzy complains, “or I’ll start up again the second you come at me with those fucking brushes.” His nostrils give a flicker of agreement. 

“Fine,” Wee John says. “Fang, we need more greasepaint over here.” 

As Wee John turns his attention elsewhere, Izzy slumps against the rail with a sigh, scrubbing at his nose roughly with the handkerchief. Stede doesn’t realise he’s staring until Izzy looks up and catches his eye, ducking his head shyly under the scrutiny. 

“Bless you,” Stede says, awkwardly. 

Izzy nods in acknowledgment. He shifts so he’s resting his hip against the rail and lifts the prosthetic off the deck slightly; a little habit Stede has noticed developing that he assumes is somehow a version of Izzy’s dramatic lean, a nervous tic and a way to ease the ache of where the prosthetic meets flesh all at once. “Thanks,” he says, still looking down, “for the handkerchief.” 

“You’re welcome,” Stede says. He wants to throw himself off the ship. “Sorry that I, um—”

“Shall we pretend you didn’t?” Izzy says. His cheeks are as pink as his nose now.

“Oh, yes please,” Stede says fervently. Izzy laughs a little under his breath — and when did that become a sound that made Stede smile? — and finally looks up, meeting Stede’s eyes for a second. And then he turns resignedly for his second round at the makeup station, and Stede scurries below to have a private crisis, and possibly a bit of alone time with the sound of Izzy’s sneeze still ringing in his head. 

[theyalldeservesomepie]

really soft but kind of h0rn thoughts under the cut

A sitting next to B on a couch. B’s in pajamas, maybe a blanket over their lap. Hands occupied with a book.

A can see them get distracted by a tickle in their nose, and impulsively they cup a hand over B’s mouth and nose, just as they hitch with an Aah—

A can feel the soft mist of the sneeze as B cringes into their hand with it.

It’s a fitful little “T’chieew!!” Followed by another “Hi’tchiew!”

B’s cheeks flush in embarrassment and apologizes to A. But A doesn’t mind it at all. A really is just that fond of B