#ouizzy fic

[jurassic-cunt]

give you that deathless death

my frenchie backstory ouizzy fic

[themistymountainscold]

frenchie would be an amazing captain

[pickingbelovedoffthesofa]

I’ve got 8 spooky chapters of my ghoul!Frenchie/cemetery groundskeeper!Izzy fic up.

It’s Ouizzy with an undead flare. No smut *yet.* 20k so far. If you’re into cute dead boys, you might like this. If you’re into grumpy misanthropic Izzy, well have I got good news for you…

[frenchiesroach]

Chapter two is here! hope it doesn’t disappoint ✌🏼

[breathe-2am]

Give it up for chapter 3! In which i add the 'recreational drug use' tag and frenchie takes izzy to the revenge

[davekatzdefensesquad]

I can't believe I posted a fic...I can't believe I decided to open up comments and who can see it. It's not done, yet, but I'm so happy with ch. 1. It's gonna have some smut in ch. 2! but it's a sad one, sorry about that. anyway, enjoy?? I've been out of writing practice for a while, mind you.

[friendlytikek]

Our Flag Breaks Bad, Part Eight

Read here or from the beginning here.

Summary:

A brilliant high school chemistry teacher with a terminal illness.

An ex smuggler desperate to keep his boyfriend around longer.

A criminal seizing the opportunity to reconnect with his best friend the only way he knows how.

A scam artist down on his luck who gets more than he bargained for.

Stede gets lung cancer. A few months shy of his forty-eighth birthday, he’s told he may not live to even make it to his fiftieth. What happens next is a natural response to this.

Chapter Preview:

Trouble comes in many forms.

But mostly when you least expect it.

Izzy shows up at The Swede’s, the bar they used to frequent a lot ten years ago. Only then it had a different name. Drinks were still good though. And even though the bar has changed, Izzy’s familiarity with it hasn’t. All the regulars are on first-name basis with him.

It’s Ed who looks a little out of place, sitting in one spot in the corner.

“So there’s news,” Ed begins. He’s already started without him, looks like.

Izzy nods and sits down. He waves at the bartender and gets a nod in return. “Not the kind of news where I’ll have to dispose of a body, I hope,” he tries to joke, but Ed is frowning. Not unlike him, but ever since the Bonnet business started, he’s been sullen. He doesn’t want to openly stare, opts for just studying Ed out of the corner of his eye as the bartender brings over his usual.

Ed has no such subtlety, eyes fixed on Izzy. “S’not work. Not exactly.” He takes a deep breath, clearly bracing himself, and Izzy has his suspicions before he even continues with, “Cancer’s spread. There’s this drug that… look, I don’t fucking know, but it’ll give him a chance. More time. We’re looking at surgery in the next couple of weeks.”

To Ed’s credit, he delivers it with a surprising lack of emotion. Stating facts. Getting right to the point. So Izzy takes his time to process and has a sip of his beer, admiring the decorative bottles on the opposite side of the bar, dozens upon dozens of them.

“Gonna need to do an impressive amount of cooking then,” Izzy finally says. “Might need a bigger boat.” He can’t help the way his mind lingers on more time, but he doesn’t bother echoing it back to Ed. “Yeah? That’s what this boils down to, right? Need more money.”

Ed’s jaw remains tense. But then he nods. “That’s right. That’s why we’re talking. We need to cook a lot more. Stede wants money for his kids, and we’re looking at houses.” His grip on his glass tightens. “Gonna need Roach more too.”

Something about that doesn’t quite add up in Izzy’s head, but he isn’t stupid enough to ask, What, Bonnet doesn’t want to die in a shitty trailer? Instead, he side-eyes Ed again and has another sip of beer.

“Yeah, Roach won’t be a problem. Boys will do their part.” Izzy pauses, trying to find a delicate way of phrasing his next question. He settles on, “Is there any particular… deadline? When do we need all this money by?”

Despite Izzy’s attempt at being tactful, Ed freezes, then his scowl increases tenfold. “Surgery, two weeks. Other shit? Two, three years? Do you need an exact time of death?”

...read more on AO3

[hugesigh]

Wrote some smut about Frenchie and Iz fucking in the back of a van after a halloween party 🤷‍♀️

[elyrianinspo]

I really want to write lately so I’m thinking I’ll get on my computer once I’ve gotten some food in me. Idc how late it gets, I want to do replies and maybe some short starters.

I also started rewriting my ouizzy fic and it’s way better now so that’s gonna be fun to get back into.

My moods are entirely based on my pmdd schedule and how terrible it makes me feel. Sorry about that.

[bougiebutchbinch]

horrid little brainworm

Frenchie is still green at the start of the Kraken era.

He isn't, by the end.

But back then, when it all begins - when he isn't used to the sting of kohl-mixed sweat dripping into his eyes - he makes mistakes. Lots of them. Simple little things - fluffing a knot in the rigging that has their sail unfurling midway through the dogwatch, goods left unstowed to roll with the list of their ship.

Most of the time, Izzy yells himself hoarse for five minutes, then shows Frenchie how to fix it, interspersing his lecture with expletives. Whatever. That's fine. Let the little man scream - he's not the scariest thing aboard anymore.

Never was, really.

But then Blackbeard (Ed? The Kraken?) stomps out of his cabin, hair a black thundercloud, and snarls 'which one of you men is responsible for that fucking mop', pointing to some cleaning equipment Frenchie forgot to pack away.

And everything goes still, as if they're becalmed.

[CW: whipping, abuse, non-explicit mentions of Frenchie's past locked-box traumas]

No one says Frenchie's name - not even Izzy. He just ducks his chin and refuses to look his captain in the eye. But the eyes of every other crewmember jump guiltily to Frenchie, at least once - and Blackbeard is too smart to miss such a tell.

"A ship needs discipline," he says. "Isn't that what you always tell me, Iz?"

"I'll attend to it," says Izzy, voice scratchier than ever. Frenchie knows this is a bad fucking situation - memories battering against the inside of his locked box, trying to get out - but somehow he can't feel fear. Can't really feel anything.

"With the cat," says Blackbeard. "Give the culprit fifteen. Really make the lesson stick."

Ah. There's the fear.

Frenchie's breath stifles itself halfway up his throat, as screams sneak through the keyhole of his box, along with the crack of a whip -

No. No, no, no. He can't. Not again, he can't -

Izzy glances up. Frenchie expects him to grin, all vindictive sadism - but whatever he sees on Frenchie's face has his mouth pulling into a tight line.

"Yes, sir," he says, though Frenchie barely hears over the dull roar of his heart.

He casts his gaze about, looking for an escape. Over the side? They're too far from land, but fuck, if it isn't tempting -

Jim fondles their knives, glaring mutinously at Blackbeard's back as he returns to his cabin. They don't spring after him (though Frenchie selfishly wishes they would). They're well aware - as is everyone - that right now, with Blackbeard black-eyed and bloodthirsty, they'd lose.

Izzy swallows. Shuts his eyes. Then calls for Fang to fetch the cat.

Frenchie loses time then. Scarcely a blink passes before Fang reappears above the deck, the strings of the knotted whip scraping the floor like the tentacles of a shrunken sea-monster.

They're flaky with rusty residue. Old, dried blood.

Frenchie's fingers twitch in the chords of the first song his Ma taught him. No rituals or superstitions will save him. Nothing will. Because his old crew are marooned, almost certainly dead, and his new crew are - with the exception of Fang and Jim and Ivan - fucking monsters.

He's going to be whipped (again). He's going to shred open all those old scars. The box is going to open, and -

Oh, God. Oh God. Fifteen lashes is survivable (Frenchie knows, he knows) but he's still not sure if anything of himself will emerge from the other side.

He's still frozen, staring at the whip held in Fang's big hands, flat out like he's presenting it to Izzy. Only... Izzy doesn't take it.

No, Izzy moves to stand in front of the mast. Walking stiff, with a bit of a limp. While Frenchie's reeling, struggling to process what's happening, he yanks off his shirt. And - fuck, his back is almost as ugly a sight as Frenchie knows his own would be, if he could bear to study it in a mirror.

A few of the crew draw shocked inhales. Most don't look surprised.

Frenchie is one of the latter group. Sound travels, on a ship.

"Um," says Fang, cat dangling limp. "Boss?"

Izzy grabs the hawsers wrapped around the mainmast. Heaves a deep breath. Rests his forehead against the wood.

"You heard the captain," he croaks. "Fifteen lashes."

Fang's eyes are moist - though they are more often than not, nowadays. "Boss - "

"The captain wants the culprit disciplined," Izzy says. His muscles flex beneath their coating of scars. Bracing himself, Frenchie's mind supplies. For the oncoming pain. Not that any amount of tensing is ever enough. "First mate's responsible for maintaining a tidy deck."

This turn of events finally settles into Frenchie's bones. The whip's not for him, thank everything. His key slides gratefully into the lock of his box and turns, ensuring it's shut tight.

Still, sickness churns in his guts. Last week, sleep eluded him. He'd intended to skulk above decks and breathe the sea air to clear his head. He never made it - because who should stagger out of the captain's cabin, so dead-eyed he didn't even notice Frenchie lurking in the shadows of the galley door, but the Revenge's thrice-cursed angry gremlin of a first mate?

Izzy hadn't looked much like a gremlin then, though. Doesn't now, either. Just looks. Tired. And old. And bruised to shit beneath his shirt, and not all of those lash marks are old, weathered scars, and -

Frenchie's fingers twitch more rapidly, pressing through their imaginary chord sequence.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit -

"Fifteen lashes," Izzy reminds Fang. "If you can't do it, anyone else is free to step up. I'm sure there'll be fucking volunteers."

Frenchie eyes Jim. They and Izzy aren't exactly friends - not when Frenchie has heard them mumble a word that sounds horrifically close to 'Oluwande' in their sleep.

But Jim stays right where they are. Hand on the hilt of a knife. Ivan emulates, and, well, Frenchie's feet have damn near put down roots. He couldn't move from this spot if he was ordered to.

Fang's tears well over, and his hand shakes on the whip handle to the point where Frenchie thinks he might drop it.

A clash from the great cabin has them all jumping - all but Izzy, who rests his cheek on the mast like it's a particularly splintery pillow, eyes drifting shut. Blackbeard barges back out, sousing the air with body odour and smoke and self-hatred and whatever the fuck else he's been marinating in.

"What's the fucking wait?" he demands. "I expected way more screams by now." He halts, frowning at the sight of Izzy, stood where Frenchie ought to be (because fuck, he shouldn't have left that mop and bucket out; how many times has Izzy told him - ). For a moment, the harsh line of his brows crumples on itself in something that could be mistaken for regret. But then that dark sneer crawls onto his lips, the one with which the whole crew is becoming familiar. "Can't pick who gets the privilege, eh? Well, lucky for the lot of you, that's what a captain's for."

He stalks forwards, feline-graceful. Frenchie scuttles from his path. When Blackbeard snatches the whip from Fang (not seeming to notice his whimper, his flinch) Frenchie fully anticipates that he'll turn on Izzy, not him.

He certainly doesn't expect Blackbeard to smile, cold and white as a toenail moon, and thrust the whip towards him, hilt first.

"Oh, no." Frenchie raises both hands in surrender. "No, no, no. I couldn't. Awful with a whip, me. Wouldn't, um..." There's the noise of it again, slithering out through the keyhole of his box. The swish. The crack. The scream. "Wouldn't be able to strike hard enough," he stutters. "No upper body strength, yeah."

Blackbeard doesn't approach Frenchie. Just keeps the whip held out towards him, like the accusative finger of a god.

"You give him fifteen," he says, gently. "And make each one count. Or I give him fifty."

Against the mast, Izzy makes a sound - not quite a whimper. Worse; it's far too much like relief. His hands don't shake, but only because they grip the hawser tight as rigor mortis.

Fifty can kill. Has killed before. Frenchie's seen it.

But Blackbeard doesn't want Izzy dead, right? Who would he torture then?

Blackbeard's blank, lifeless eyes pour into Frenchie's.

Who indeed?

Fuck. Frenchie swallows dry. He tells himself it's for self-preservation that he unsticks his boots from the deck and shuffles forth to take the whip. Not for Izzy. Not like he likes the angry little prick. Man's vicious as a cat and thrice as cursed.

Maybe, if Frenchie tells himself that, it'll make this memory easier to lock away with all the rest.

"Ready?" he asks Izzy, softer than he intends. Izzy twists over his scarred shoulder. He looks at Frenchie - really looks at him - for what feels like the first time. Not even glancing to his left, where the Kraken lurks.

Frenchie can't decipher his expression. Pity, for whatever made him offer himself up in Frenchie's place? Frustration, that Frenchie prevented Blackbeard from whipping him into the grave? Misery and fear - no, that's far too sane for a guy like Izzy.

Izzy turns back to the mast.

"Give me your worst," he says.

Frenchie breathes in, breathes out, and obeys.

[sketchy-scribs-n-doods]

steddyhands has me so ruined for any individual izzy ship bc every time i try reading long stizzy fic where ed disappears i inevitably go 'but where's ed? :('

and whenever i read long edizzy fic where stede never pops up i'm inevitably going 'but where stede?? :('

and even when i read ouizzy or sprizzy or fang/ivan/izzy fics etc where izzy is happy while stede and ed are doing their own thing, i'm always a little sad in the back of my mind like 'ed and stede... they don't know?? they don't know the love of izzy?? no kissing first mate??? :((('

(don't get me started on how difficult straight up stede/ed fics are to dig through sometimes, i love the ship to death truly i do, she's the main girlie, but forget crying over where izzy is in their dynamic, i gotta go Entire Work and CTRL+F search izzy's name throughout the fic just to make sure his character isn't getting massacred disney villain style before i get invested in a 50k+ fic at 2am)

my ideal world is one where stede/ed/izzy have sorted their shit out, izzy and frenchie are music boyfriends, izzy shacks up with lucius and pete sometimes for some kissing bitching and gossiping sessions, and izzy and fang have cuddle sessions on the regular

all this ofc alongside archie/jim/olu/zheng's whole thing, whatever frenchie and wee john have going on, lucius' thing with fang, and jackie's continuing recruitment of new husbands to join the swede

in my heart polycrew is real and thriving, we could have had it all dammit

[izzyspussy]

Tagged by @imsodishy to post some lines from a WIP.

Izzy is shaking and mildly nauseous from dread, but also already a bit wet, by the time Frenchie closes the door softly behind himself. Although to be fair, Izzy wouldn't be surprised if half of his state is just from being in the fucking room. He avoids looking at the bed. He can't remember if he's washed the sheets since the last time they were bloodied. It's a small room, so there's really not that much elsewhere to look. The only options, really, are the bed or Frenchie. The room is small enough, in fact, that even though the backs of Izzy's knees are pressed into the edge of the mattress and Frenchie's shoulders are flat up against the door, as much distance between them as the space allows, they are still not far away. Maybe Izzy is imagining it, but the right side of his body feels slightly warmer, Frenchie's body heat seeping in. He's not a large man, exactly, but he is very tall. He could eclipse Izzy's body entirely with his. He could- There's a lot he could do, if he wanted to. If Izzy let him. Frenchie sees him looking and offers an awkward smile. He pushes himself off the door to take a few steps further into the room. Closer to Izzy. Izzy's breath comes a little shorter when he corrects himself: there's a lot Frenchie will do, when Izzy lets him.

from Plan To Entangle, currently 4k Sign up here to be tagged when I post OFMD fic.

I tag @isherwoodj @fallenangelontheceiling @prydeparade and @thesylverlining.

[themistymountainscold]

Someone could tell Izzy that Frenchie doesn’t actually like him and is just messing with him. And Izzy would just believe them. Oh no I’m sad

god this man really has no self worth does he? he’ll believe anyone when they tell him he’s just being used, ‘cause he’s only ever been used.

and he doesn’t know what real affection looks like ‘cause he never had it. so frenchie being with him was easy to mark as just “temporary pleasure” since, yet again, all izzy has been used for.

the mere concept of being wanted is totally foreign to him. he can’t see how much frenchie actually cares.

as soon as izzy is told frenchie is just messing with him, he’ll draw in on himself, avoiding frenchie any moment he can. frenchie’s on deck? oh looks like izzy’s gotta check rations. frenchie is below? ah perfect timing izzy is on watch in the nest (he totally kicked whoever was on out)

but frenchie didn’t stop trying to get to him. izzy didn’t understand why. if it was all just a game why was frenchie still playing? it made izzy angry.

and he doesn’t understand why frenchie keeps chasing him, always trying to talk to him.

when frenchie finally managed to catch up to izzy, getting them both alone in a room below deck, frenchie asks izzy “what’s going on? and why are you avoiding me?”

izzy then blow’s up, yelling about how the ruse was up, that he knew he was just a bet to frenchie, nothing more than a pathetic fuck because there was nothing else. he let’s out everything he made himself believe.

frenchie can only stand there as izzy rants, his frown only deepening with each word out of izzy’s mouth, but let’s him speak his mind.

when he’s done, frenchie let’s izzy breathe for a few seconds, before stepping forward, voice low and telling him, it was never a joke, that izzy wasn’t a bet. frenchie tells him how he really feels, and that’s he’s sorry he ever made izzy feel like it wasn’t real.

he then asks why izzy thought those things.

izzy tells him.

“blackbeard.”

[pickingbelovedoffthesofa]

I have 17 chapters of my undead Ouizzy romantic horror AU up now. Things have gotten sexier since my last post here. (And bloodier.)

Moth Eaten Romance - Chapter 17 - Thunder_Puss, Urethra_Franklin (Thunder_Puss) - Our Flag Means Death (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

IZZY HANDS FIC RECS! (I want em', I've got em')

What is everyone reading in OFMD fandom right now?

I am currently mostly caught up on my 'to read list' and YALL. I'd love more recomendations!! I will take ANYTHING! I will read ANYTHING!

I'd love to start a chat, so I'd love y'all to leave something you've read recently down below!

I've also added some tasty ones I've read recently down below separated by ship! THEY ARE AMAZING!

Frenchie/Izzy:

The Poetry of Flowers: By Aletea [Rated:Teen. Complete]

Frenchie falls hard and fast. It takes Izzy a little while longer to catch up. This is the slow courtship of Izzy Hands, using flowers.

This fic was written for OFMD Aro/Ace Week 2024.

[Personal notes: OMG-It's so *GOOD*. This has a bit of S2, but mostly takes place post S2, if that tempts you, READ IT. This got me back into the hobby Frenchie does in the fic and AHHH]

you steal my breath away: By ChangeTheCircumstances [Rated: Mature. Complete]

Something is clearly off about Izzy, but when Frenchie sees him petting a cat, it finally clicks. Izzy is a fucking witch! In order to protect the crew, Frenchie makes the next obvious step in logic: he has to kill him.

[Personal notes: I feel this one is just 'if you like Frenchie/Izzy, you've READ THIS- but it's so earnest! SOLID fic the 'realizations' on both ends are really amazing and well written, reread it if you have]

Warnings from the Bottom of My Heart: By scrunglebungus [Rated: Teen. Complete]

Izzy likes Frenchie's voice. He appreciates his music and his long pretty fingers as they move across his Lute. He doesn't have a crush. He DOESN'T.

...and if he did, it's not like he's obvious about it.

(Spoiler: He is) AKA: 5 times Izzy is given the shovel talk + 1 time it's given on his behalf

[An alternate S2 fic written before S2! It leans a bit more 'Izzy needs to redeem himself' than I usually read, but all the Izzy & Crew interactions are SO in character it's scary. That and the Captains are so well realized on top of Izzy and Frenchie being great. LOVE IT]

Roach/Izzy:

Take Up Thy Stethoscope And Walk: bongbingbong [Rated:Mature. Complete]

Of Roach, the scientist - although, that those ghoulish practices he carries out should be called science is a subject on which some might disagree - I feel like I should speak with extreme terror. In laying down those events which transpired during that winter in the turning over of our century, it seems as though on paper they create an impression of little more than a tawdry tale, a freak show in writing for the morbidly curious. It’s no question that I spent a great deal of that time afraid for my life, and for my soul. And yet, I tell you - I have never felt quite so alive as I did during the days I have spent living in the graveyard.

I wonder what this might say about me. What a pair we make.

Izzy Hands dies. Roach brings him back to life. This is the easiest part of the process.

Written for the OFMD Reverse Big Bang 2023, with art from Tarouofthesea!

[Omg. OMFG. I love this fic. I love this Frankenstein'ian/Reanimator fic SO MUCH. It is just SOOOOOOO-! AMAZING characterization, stunning art, the way everything pays off plot/reference-wise! LOVE IT!]

Blackbeard's Roach: bongbingbong [Rated: Teen. Unfinished. 4/6]

What if Roach had ended up on the Queen Anne's Revenge before the events of the show?

(A alternative universe Roach who wears leather and cooks for Blackbeard's crew, and flirts outrageously with their first mate)

[ANOTHER bongbingbong Roach/Izzy fic!!! I love the way bongbingbong writes Roach/Izzy. It's not finished, but I am SO excited to see how it goes! In this one, even though it's unfinished, I feel it GETS the pre-Bonnet life Izzy lived on the Queen Anne. If you like probably autistic Izzy, READ THIS! That, and Roach and Izzy's relationship is SO GOOD. I won't spoil it, but the mutual trust is really strong!]

Stede/Izzy:

The Mount: rainingrenee [Explicit. Complete (WLW smut<3)]

Stede Bonnet enters the Revenge self defence class expecting to learn something.

She meets instructor Butch Dyke Supreme Izzy Hands and gets more than she bargained for.

[God. I love women. This smutty 8k fic is AMAZING and honestly any WLW in this fandom needs some love!]

When It Takes Hold: krill collins (krillcollins)[Explicit: 5/12]

Izzy Hands, a 90s heartthrob turned casting director with an impressively average back catalogue, never foresaw his career trajectory bringing him back to television. He certainly never would've guessed that his big return would be on Strictly Come Dancing. At least it breaks the monotony, even if he's paired with the insufferable twat, the Gentleman of the Ballroom.

It's the kind of fast-paced environment that Izzy was sure he'd long-since grown out of, and he's sure he's not going to make it past the first few weeks. Still, the more he finds himself enjoying it, the more he hopes he'll stay, and he finds himself more in love with life than he's been in years.

Still, the talk of the curse puts Izzy on edge. Bonnet is strangely captivating and seems more interested in Izzy than Edward has in years. Izzy may not believe in them, but that's the thing about curses: once they take hold...

[OMG. OMFG?!?!? Do you know how much I love 'Dancing with the Stars' AU? NO? Well. For every fandom I enter, my first tags I search are 'time loop' 'time travel' and 'dancing'. This fic is EVERYTHING I love about the trope. I have been following this fic from Day 1 and OMG. I love it. Can't recommend it enough]

The Island: triedunture [Explicit: 10/? Updates every Friday-SteddyHands but Izzy/Stede focused]

Stede Bonnet wakes up in the little cottage he and Ed share—except Ed's not there. Izzy is. Stede is somehow stuck in a world where Ed died and Izzy lived. As he struggles to get back to his real life, it becomes clear that things on the island are very different from what he first assumed....

Updates every Friday.

[A fic that, if the premise sounds cool-READ IT! It's a bit out there concept wise, but SO fun, and a great look at how Stede and Izzy interact in a 'do I want him' type of relationship. This fic has been my weekly bed time story, and I can't wait to see how the drama UNFOLDS!]

[davekatzdefensesquad]

5•27•24 || Plotting this fic is done and I’m super proud. Need to put away laundry, wash my clothes and do dishes before I try to get on my laptop. I want to do my rp replies first too bc I think having my fic plotted is a pretty good start. Still doesn’t have a title, either. This fic will be 18 chapters and could be more if I get really into it. Or I could drop a part 3, but for now, 18 is good enough.