#gimme more roach/izzy darnit!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ahkaraii · 2 years

Text

roach & izzy drabble, 1187 words

A/N: sadistic torture-loving cook-doctor and masochistic toe-eating first mate??? HELLO???? it writes itself ahksjtahk

tbh i rly wanna write roach and izzy knifeplay one day but until then have this gen drabble. cw: playfully implied cannibalism

---

“Baddie gotcha good, eh?” Roach comments as he pokes and prods about Izzy’s gut wound, assessing the damage as fast as he can.

“Ffffuck you,” Izzy slurs. “Am I… gonna die?”

“Hmm, maybe,” Roach says cheerfully. “Can’t promise either way.” He immediately starts fiddling butcher’s twine between clever fingers and a fishhook to knot stitches deep inside Izzy’s belly.

“Fuck! Fuck…” Izzy’s eyes are rolling in their sockets. “Done in by… fuckin’...” he trails off into muttered incoherence.

“Stay awake, Boss-man,” Roach hums with no real urgency in his voice, hands steady and skillful. “D’you wanna be fish-meat?”

“Nnn… No…”

“You’d rather be man-meat?” Roach continues, nonsensically.

Izzy’s brow is creased in confusion and pain. “Man…?”

“If you die I’ll cook you,” Roach promises. “Feed you to the crew.” He’s grinning and Izzy’s vision is tunnelling so much Roach’s teeth gleam in that darkness, his voice distorted. “Izzy à l’Orange.”

“What…” Izzy shakes his head, shaken and more than a little bit terrified. “No… fuck you…”

“Captain would like it,” Roach says, and he’s gratified when that gets Izzy’s attention. “Yeah, he likes oranges, y’know.”

“Ed does?” Izzy sounds dazed. His pupils are so dilated and his eyes so lost they look like they belong on a fish. Roach has filletted many fish, he’d know.

“Loves ‘em,” Roach agrees, not having the heart to correct Izzy on exactly which Captain he was talking about. “Made me make a forty-orange cake once.”

“What…” The spell of Izzy’s devotion is broken, and now he just looks sweaty, pale, and extremely constipated. “Fuckin'… waste…”

Roach laughs out loud. If Izzy’s still energetic enough to be pissed, odds are in their favour. “Super wasteful, but super tasteful!” He soaks another rum-heavy handkerchief inside Izzy and huffs triumphantly when there’s only a couple of spots left bleeding. Either Roach’s got all the bleeds or Izzy’s heart’s giving up the ghost and he’s not long for this world. Either way, Roach’s job is almost done.

“Wasteful…” Izzy echoes, groggily. “Fuck’s sake…”

“I don’t let anything go to waste,” Roach confesses. “Even this is something to learn from.” He’s practicing le point devant on Izzy’s belly fat and plans on doing le surjet on his skin, and they’re coming out fucking beautiful, if he does say so himself. “So if you die, it’s not gonna be in vain, yeah?”

Izzy’s bottom lip wobbles, and oh, that’s interesting. “Don’t wanna… die…”

“Then don’t,” Roach says simply. “Or I’ll fucking roast you.” He’s almost done with this line, and it’s a damn shame no one’s ever gonna see it, ‘cause it’s fine ass work. “I’ll sauté you with sauerkraut and ginger ale, feed you to your Captain.”

Izzy’s belly trembles and Roach takes a second to glance up at Izzy’s face because he’s expecting a death rattle, not a giggle. And yeah, Izzy’s fucking giggling.

“You like that, little man?” Roach says, grinning a bit because who wouldn’t, seeing Izzy Hands do that?

“Fffuck you,” Izzy wheezes.

“I’ll take that into consideration,” Roach says primly, and finishes up with a flourish. “And done! Rest is up to you, Boss-man.”

Izzy blinks up at him, slow on the uptake because a good chunk of his lifeblood has spilled across the deck and down the stairs and all over Roach’s kitchen, but he’s alert enough ‘cause he starts wriggling his ass trying to scooch off the dinner-cum-surgical table, and it’s both fucking hilarious and really fucking sad.

“Ey, ey, calm down,” Roach says. “Wait till Wee John comes back, he’ll carry you to your room.”

“Fuck off,” Izzy says groggily. “I can… myself…”

“Sit your ass down,” Roach barks, and is gratified when Izzy immediately stills and stops trying to leave. “I didn’t fuckin’ waste a good amount of tonight’s cookin’ twine on you just for you to ruin my hard work. So chill out, man. Want a cookie?”

“Excuse me?” Izzy croaks.

“It’s an experiment,” Roach says, and plops a biscuit into Izzy’s mouth. Which Izzy promptly spits out, like a fucking child. “Hey! Don’t fucking waste food!”

“Sorry,” Izzy says meekly, and huh, that’s new.

“You better be,” Roach says grouchily, retrieving the biscuit, eyeing it, then shrugging and eating it himself. Five second rule! “Well, I think it’s pretty good,” he says with his mouth full. “Bit bloody ‘cause your blood’s on it, but not bad. Sure you don’t want some?”

Izzy’s eyes are half-mast and blown out and he’s paler than usual and that’s saying something ‘cause he’s already a pasty ass white man, so Roach isn’t really expecting him to participate much, but Izzy continually surprises him with his endurance ‘cause he sounds pretty coherent when he says, “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah?” Roach says brightly. “Awesome! Here, chew on this.”

Izzy opens his mouth obediently and oh, that’s doing something for him. Roach places his lovingly handcrafted cookie on Izzy’s tongue and then it disappears into his mouth, and gosh, his eyelashes are quite long. For a filthy fucking colonizer, that is. Izzy chews on Roach’s masterpiece, slow and contemplative-like. Like a cow, or a goat, or just a man beset by immense blood loss.

“So?” Roach asks eagerly, juggling his butcher’s knife to keep himself busy. “Good, bad? Ugly?”

Izzy’s eyes are following the knife, like he’s hypnotized. Or, y’know, missing half his weight in liquids. All the while, chew, chew, chewing and saying fuck all, not even an insult! That’s most insulting of all!

“Sweet, not sweet enough?” Roach says, increasing in hysteria. “Gimme somethin’ man, you can tell me it sucks!”

Izzy swallows, and it looks like it’s hurting him. “It’s fine,” Izzy croaks.

“Oh, it’s awful, I know it,” Roach says, and stabs his knife three centimeters deep into his cutting table. “Fuckin’ bloodtrade sugarcane shit. Ruins everything.”

“It’s… fine…” Izzy repeats, slowly. “Just… bit dry…” Then he sways, and oof, of course, Izzy’s dehydrated to hell and back, huh?

“Yeah, yeah,” Roach grumbles. “You’d better try it when you’re feeling better, then, ‘cause I’m not taking that ‘fine’ as a final grade. My pride’s at stake here!”

“Okay,” Izzy says, and then his eyes roll to the back of his head and whoops, Roach catches him just in time, ‘cause Izzy’s swooned. Close call! It’d’ve really sucked to have had to stitch Izzy’s skull down if he’d brained himself, ‘cause those bad boys bleed like stuck pigs and Izzy doesn’t have much blood left to go around.

“Oy,” Roach grumbles. “You made me drop my knife, man.”

Izzy doesn’t even have the grace to apologize for it. But Roach forgives him, ‘cause he’s unconscious and all. Wee John’s taking a long goddamn time, and Roach needs his dinner table for cooking tonight’s feast. So he flexes his muscles and hoists Izzy into his arms like a sheep ready for shearing and takes him to the corner, where Roach’s own nap-cot is. It’s not much but it’ll keep Izzy out of the way. If Roach tucks him in a little, then that’s cause he doesn’t want his hard work ruined by getting food stuff on it. Nothing more than that.

(fin for now)

#karaii fic #ofmd #i simply adore roach xddd #i want him to interact more with izzy damnit #i wonder how many interesting exchanges they had behind the scenes....#since roach is both cook and doctor he must've interacted with izzy one on one at some point!!!!#gimme more roach/izzy darnit!!!!#i gotta be the change i wanna see in the world 😤#rizzy

33 notes · View notes