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charliemwrites · 4 months ago

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Part 4 of Men at Work!

Just a note, I know I mix phonetic and Cyrillic spellings of Russian in this. Mostly it's so that people can easily translate the more complex words directly.

Content: Masturbation, very mild protective/possessive behavior

It’s becoming a problem.

You think this from the overstuffed daybed recently purchased for the explicit purpose of feeding into aforementioned problem. Not that the porch is the problem, heavens no. If so much as a nail came loose, there’s a trio of men across the street all too eager to lend their hammers and bulging, glistening muscles to fix it.

Which, conveniently, is the problem.

Their muscles, that is. And how magnanimous they are with them.

Your house is nice. New. It took them three days to fix all the issues you’d been putting off for a day you were non-reclusive enough to schedule a handyman.

Your house is too nice and too new.

You’re feeding a Vegas buffet’s worth of appetites raised on old world sensibilities with no outlet for them to be expressed. There aren’t enough squeaky hinges, crooked cabinets, stuck windows, or leaky faucets in your two-bedroom for all that… chivalry. (Or whatever Krueger has that passes for chivalry’s surly cousin.)

They’ve taken to invading earlier in the evening for busy work before dinner. Cutting vegetables, tenderizing meat, cleaning dishes, setting the goddamn table.

Like, sirs, you’re a single woman with three cats and a sham of a personal life – the last time you saw a centerpiece on a domestic dining table was Christmas at your nana’s.

Until Konig shuffled in with a fistful of sunflowers and zinnias, promising that he double-checked that they’re non-toxic to cats. You didn’t have a vase, so you had to make do with an empty mason jar you were keeping for ostensible aesthetic reasons.

Now you’ve got an ongoing bouquet, kitschy salt-and-pepper shakers shaped like lemons that no one ever uses (as if your seasoning decisions are as good as god) and are contemplating cloth napkins like some kind of… of…

“Socialite?” you muse aloud. You glance at Rasputin. He blinks slowly. “Hostess? Woman of the night?”

You’re pretty sure Agatha didn’t mean that as a compliment when you overheard her gossiping to Margot yesterday. (She should really remember that if she can eavesdrop on you from her backyard, the same is true the other way around.)

You’re toying with an idea for a new series with your last one wrapping up and your solo-novel due for release come fall. Something about a rich young woman with a wild streak and her fantastically wealthy gentlemen callers…

“Scarlet woman,” you murmur aloud, eyes on the reason for your recent porch décor purchase.

Krueger is on the roof, cloth around his head to stave off the summer heat. Doing… something with shingles and a nail gun. Your face flushes with each flex of hard muscle, jump of thick tendons. The grip he has on that thing…

As inspiring as your neighbors are, they are also a huge (in many, many ways) distraction. Hence, they are a Problem.

And not just for you. On your right, you catch the flutter of curtains from your peripheral. Lisa taking another peek – to be properly scandalized, probably. (You’re not really sure what the neighborhood biddies tell themselves when they decide something is Simply Not Proper.)

“We’ll have to start charging admission,” you muse, sipping a strawberry mojito.

Curled up far too close for the weather, Little Guy chuffs and stretches. You smooth a fingertip up his little nose, between his eyes, and over the crest of his empty head.

“Jezebel,” you mumble. He yawns, tongue curling and pearly fangs gleaming. “Trollop.”

An annoyed grunt pulls your eyes forward again. Nikto is standing halfway up the porch, one foot planted on the last step like a sexy Russian Captain Morgan. His thighs stretch his workpants oh-so-nicely. There’s a smear of white paste across the material – caulking, maybe?

(You could do with a caulking too.)

“Has someone called you these?” he asks. “Who?”

You laugh. What would he even do if someone had?

“No – well, not to my face, anyway.”

He snorts, shoots a withering scowl at Agatha’s property anyway. You spin your pen around your fingers and try not to bite your lip at the way his shirt is clinging from sweat.

“Aren’t you hot?” you fuss. “You’re going to pass out.”

“Nyet, we have been in worse,” he replies, finishing the short journey up the porch. He pauses in front of you, taking in the sight of you and your cats. What does he think, seeing you lounging about all day while he and his friends(?) are working so hard? If it’s something negative, he’s never let on.

“Still,” you insist, “have you been hydrating?”

“Da, the water runs.”

You blink, put together pieces to assume he and the others are chugging tap water (probably right from the faucet) when necessary. Well, that just won’t do now, will it?

“No, no. Hold on. Rasputin, hold him hostage.”

And like the little angel he is, Ras gets up, stretches out, and begins rubbing his face all over Nikto’s pants. With him distracted, you hop to your feet and scurry inside. The house is almost uncomfortably cool after most of your morning spent outside, but you’ll only be a moment.

There’s a large ruby pitcher waiting in the fridge from last night, complete with various berries floating at the top. You use two hands to heft it out, set it on the counter, then flit to your cabinets for the travel cups you invested in for on-the-go wine sipping. Nice and insulated.

You pour a cup for each of them, stow the pitcher away again, and carry all three in triangle-formation back outside. (Maybe you should get a tray? The antique store in town probably has something pretty and lemon-themed to match the salt and pepper shakers…)

Nikto hurries to help as soon as he sees you, plucking the extra cup from your hands.

“I saw this recipe and wanted to try it since it’s been getting hotter.”

He blinks at you, then the juice.

“You don’t have to try it now, I just thought—”

Your voice abandons you as Nikto tugs his filtration mask down. The skin beneath is warped and scarred, discolored in some places. When he raises the edge of the cup to his mouth, the skin of one cheek stretches distressingly thin. You can see the individual indents of his back molars pressing against the flesh as he drinks.

You understand why he’s been hesitant to show you; it’s not easy to look at. Which makes you all the more determined to flick your eyes back to his and ask, eagerly, “What do you think? Too sweet?”

As he swallows, throat clicking, you think you hear him grunt something.

“Hm?”

“Nyet. Not too sweet. Is good, пчела.”

You grin even though you’re not sure what it means. All three of them have some nickname in their mother tongue that you can only hope is complimentary and not because they forgot your actual name.

“Good, then I can bring some to K and K while you help me with lunch. That’s why you came by, right?”

He nods. “Nearly noon.”

“That late already!” you say. Wow, staring at hot, sweaty men really makes time fly. “Alright, I was going to make chicken wraps and latkes. Could you start peeling potatoes? You know where everything is, da?”

“Da.” He clicks his tongue, luring Rasputin in and stirring Guy awake. “Come, малышу, before we leave you out here for vultures.”

“Nikto!” you scold. “Don’t threaten him.”

“I do not threaten. It is what will happen.”

You swat at his arm, but at least Little Guy has been lured into Nikto’s reach – if by nothing else than a hand has been offered and cats are helpless to resist a good sniff. Nikto scoops him up while you turn to flounce down the stairs.

“Make sure Susan doesn’t get out!” you call over your shoulder.

She was roused by your quick turnaround to get the juice cups and will certainly be stalking the door now.

Sure enough, you faintly hear him cursing in Russian as you reach the end of the yard. Luckily, you see him closing the door with all three of your demons inside, so you continue across the street.

Krueger hasn’t noticed your approach, his back to you, so you stop at the edge of the property to watch for a moment. Yep, just as good this close, too.

“Krueger!” you call. He doesn’t turn. You huff and try again. Nothing. Christ, you’re starting to think he’s ignoring you on purpose. “Sebastian!”

His head whips around alarmingly fast and finds you right there on the ground. No need to look around at all – sometimes they remind you of their profession in the oddest ways.

“Ja, ja, no need to shout,” he replies.

You open your mouth to do just that, but he’s already scaling down from the roof. You’re stunned into silence as he slides down to the edge of the roof, catches the edge, and swings down to the ground. Lands with barely more noise than one of your footsteps. It’s quick yet so graceful.

You stare (gawk, more accurately) as he saunters up, pants sinfully low on his narrow hips.

“What did you need, bienchen?” he asks. “It is too early for lunch.”

You stutter for a second before your brain reboots.

“What was that?!” you demand, a little shriller than necessary. If you don’t shriek about this, you’re going to shriek about that gorgeous chest and the tattoos and the everything else, and you absolutely cannot do that. “That was so dangerous! You’re going to break a leg!”

“You worry,” he scoffs. He shakes his head, but there’s a wicked, knowing grin at the corners of his mouth and his eyes are far too bright. “That was a little jump.”

“It was not!”

“It only seemed big because you are so little, but it was nothing for me.”

“You’re not that much taller!”

“It is sweet to worry,” he coos, “but it is too hot for it, yes?”

You scrunch your nose at him, not sure if you’re annoyed or turned on or both. (Probably both. It’s annoying how hot he is. And how hot he knows he is.)

“If it’s so hot, then here.”

You all but shove the cup at him. He takes it with a flicker of genuine surprise, sniffs at the liquid, then takes a sip. A pleased hum rumbles in his chest, raises the temperature another few degrees.

“My mother used to make something like this,” he muses, expression softening. You blink, lean in automatically for a peck to your cheek. “Danke schön.”

“Bitte,” you mumble, mouth drier than Reggie’s garden.

His eyes crinkle, mouth hidden by the edge of the cup as he proceeds to chug the rest of it. A droplet slips down his jaw and skips down to his collarbone. You force your eyes away before you’re driven to do something irreparable by thirst.

“Is Konig inside?” you ask. “I have a cup for him, too.”

He grunts confirmation, tongue curling around a blueberry to coax it into his mouth.

Yep, alright, that’s about as much as you can take.

“Scooch, before the punch goes warm.”

“Punch?” he repeats, arching an eyebrow at you.

“That’s what it’s called in English. Punch.”

“That seems like it would cause misunderstanding.” Except he’s grinning as he says it, like he cherishes the idea of someone confusing the two words and starting a fight. Considering how often you catch him and Konig smacking at each other, that’s probably not a stretch.

“Just please don’t swing on anyone, yeah?”

“Only because you ask so nicely,” he croons.

You click your tongue at him. “Wipe off before going in, I don’t want Shithead to stink after crawling on you.”

He barks out his usual sharp laugh and tugs the cloth – his own t-shirt – off his head to mop up his sweat. You make a mental note to tease him about sunburn later as you slip past him.

You can hear Konig singing off-key upstairs when you open the door. The house is sweltering, only mildly cooler than outside with none of the fresh air. You grimace as you pause at the bottom of the stairs; the boys have warned you that it’s dangerous up there and it’s best not to go wandering.

Thankfully, it doesn’t sound like he’s using power tools at the moment.

“Konig!” you call.

“Is that you, biene?” he calls back.

You grin. “Who else would it be, huh?”

You hear his footsteps right over your head, track his gait until the first heavy boot on the stairs. He meets you at the bottom with his usual ventilator on, but he tugs it down when he sees the cup in your hand.

“Is this for me?” he asks eagerly.

“Yep! Tell me what you think!”

With none of Nikto or Kreuger’s hesitation, he knocks back a big mouthful. Licks his full lips as he lowers it, eyes bright as they land on yours.

“This is perfect,” he chirps, “so refreshing! Thank you, biene!”

You beam right back, flushed with pride that all three of them liked the recipe you “happened to find” when you saw the temperature projections for today.

“There’s more back home,” you offer, “come out of the heat.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles. “I will wipe off first.”

You hum agreeably, watching him slip back upstairs with great enthusiasm. Konig in a tank top and those tight cargos… summer really is delivering this year.

That evening, you sigh as you recline across your huge bed, naked and cooling off with the night breeze rolling through your window. Ras and Shithead are happily distracted wrestling each other in your forgotten towel, and Little Guy is snoozing on his personal pillow.

You stretch out, feeling a bit decadent and indulgent with moonlight spilling over your body, and let your hands wander. It’s not the high-efficiency sleep-oriented wank you usually rush through, not this time.

You unspool memories of the day with each brush of your fingertips over moisturized skin. You hum as your skin tingles, imagining Konig’s calloused palms in place of yours. He’d be so surprisingly gentle, you’re sure. Big, strong hands but he’d play with you like a precious toy. Plucking your nipples and scratching his blunt nails over the plush of your hips.

As your breathing picks up, you see Krueger’s broad shoulders flexing behind your eyelids. Imagine them bullying between your thighs, hooking your knees over. That bright glint in his eye as he smirks against your cunt. Can practically feel the curl of his tongue around your clit, eating you out messy and mean.

You’re already halfway there when you curl two fingers into your pussy. You’re so wet that your fingers slip and slide, squelch lewdly as you rock your hips, trying to find just the right angle.

You imagine Nikto clicking his tongue at your struggle. Almost hear his low, hoarse voice chiding you for doing his job while he takes over. His fingers are so much thicker than yours, you have to press a third in just to maintain the fantasy.

You want to lean back against his broad chest while he strokes your walls, listen to him and Krueger and Konig talk about you like you’re not even there, debating if you should come. Ignore you as you beg and whimper, big hands pinning you down while they draw it out.

Please, please, please…

You clap a hand over your mouth just in time, hips jerking so hard that it makes your wrist ache.

Whoops.

Well, you doubt anyone heard. It’s pretty late, and you’re on the second story anyway.

Already sleepy, you’re too lazy to close the window after a pre-bed stop in the restroom. It’s such a nice night, after all.

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Masterlist

#men at work fic #nikto cod #cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #grey fic because it's not that dark i swear #cod krueger #cod konig

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standfucker · 9 months ago

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Post-Injury Hurt/Comfort Series - Monster Trio

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji

Reader: GN

Word Count: 3.3k

CW: blood, gore, graphic depictions of injury, stitches

Ao3 Link

After writing The Break, I've always wanted to do drabbles of the same scenario for other characters, so here we are. ( 0v0)/

Luffy

It happens in an instant. One moment, you’ve brought your mace down on the head of the lion Zoan, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. You collapse next to his body, exhausted from the fight.

The next moment, the lion Zoan lunges at you from the floor, one massive paw smashing into your face with all the strength of their devil fruit, sickle claws tearing your flesh open.

You go flying. You hit the ground hard, leaving a smear of blood from your body skidding. Dazed, you try and get your bearings, berating yourself for letting your guard down early, praying it didn’t cost you the fight. The lion Zoan snarls and charges you.

“Gum-Gum Whip!”

The sight of your captain intercepting your opponent brings a heavy relief–if Luffy’s finished with his own opponent, that means your part is done, too. You can finally catch your breath.

With the rest comes the dull, burning pain across your face. The enemy mostly got you in the nose and mouth, miraculously missing your eyes. Blood runs from your nose and mouth and drips from your chin, bleeding as heavily as a head wound. Still, you’re not too concerned. It’s only when the rest of the crew catches up to you and you try to talk that you realize how much damage the lion did, because not only does speaking hurt, but Nami makes a face at the sight of you.

The local anesthetic that Chopper gives you helps a little bit, but it still hurts when he realigns your nose and stitches up the gashes. Luffy holds your hand the entire time, knowing you hate needles.

“Good job, Y/n!” Luffy says after Chopper’s done. “You’re real tough!”

“Thanks, Captain.” You sigh. “I would have been fine if I hit him again, but I thought he was down. I forgot how resilient Zoans can be.”

“You didn’t want to kill him.”

“I know, I shouldn’t take these fights so lightly–”

“Y/n, that’s a good thing.” Luffy stretches an arm around your shoulder. “You’re a good person. Besides, I was able to take him out easily because of the damage you did.”

“Nami looked horrified when she saw my face,” you say. “I must look like a mess.”

“You do,” Luffy says honestly, making you smile–which pulls on your stitches.

“Owww, oh…smiling hurts.”

“Then don’t smile!”

“I can’t help it. You make me smile. You know this.”

Luffy rubs his chin, eyes rolling up as he thinks. “Then I should stay away from you.”

“Nooo, don’t do that! I need you around to cheer me up! Especially now.” You take his hand that’s hanging around your shoulder, feeling your chest lighten when he squeezes back.

“Well, in that case, I’ll just not make you smile!” he says.

“I don’t think that’s possible.” You chuckle, then look at the mirror hanging on the wall. If you need to lower your mood, there’s an easy shortcut–the combination of your inflamed, swollen skin, plus the stitches make you look nothing short of monstrous.

Luffy notices your face falling. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s going to scar. And not even in a cool way.” Living with severe facial scarring probably won’t be that bad–you are a pirate, after all–but it’ll still be new. And, to be honest, you’re not ready for your appearance to change so dramatically.

“What are you talking about? It’ll be super cool!” Luffy says earnestly. “Everyone will know what a strong pirate you are!”

He’s trying to cheer you up. You don’t want to bring him down in the dumps with you, but you can’t help but be bummed out.

“But what if I don’t want to look cool?” you say. “What if I just want to look like me? I mean, who could possibly find a face like this appealing?” You ghost your fingers over the stitches on your lips. “Who would kiss lips like mine?”

You think you’re holding it in okay, but the admission has you tearing up. You’re being ridiculous–you should be happy to be alive. But why did it have to be your face? Why…

Luffy stares at you in that way he does when he’s thinking. You can’t tell what’s going through his mind.

It happens in an instant.

One moment you’re sitting next to each other in silence. The next moment, he wraps his other arm around you, pulls you in close, and lightly presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

It hurts a little, but it also feels so good that your tears break free and sting where they roll over your cuts.

“Did that hurt? I’m sorry, Y/n,” Luffy says when he pulls away.

“No, no! It was nice! It was really nice.” You have to fight not to smile.

“Oh, good! I liked it too!” he giggles, looking overjoyed.

“When I heal up, will you do that again?”

“I can do it right now!” Luffy says eagerly, but you clear your throat and tilt your head toward the doorway.

Chopper is standing there, little hooves on his hips, thoroughly unimpressed with the both of you and your method of boosting morale.

Zoro

Zoro was always one to downplay his injuries. Next to Chopper, you gave him the most trouble for it out of anyone in the crew. He figured that so long as he got medical attention, the extent of the injuries was no big deal.

He never expected to be on the receiving end.

In the heat of battle, he’s entirely focused on his opponent. This enemy crew is tough, but not the strongest they’ve faced. Strong enough to demand his full concentration.

However, Zoro knows the unique sound of a sword cutting through flesh. When he hears the shhk! noise behind him and remembers you’re also fighting a sword user, he’s so badly distracted he almost gets hit. He has just enough presence of mind to finish off his enemy before turning around.

That’s when he sees you fire a bullet into your opponent’s leg, your free arm wrapped around your stomach. There’s blood seeping between your fingers. In the time it takes him to rush to your side, you shoot your opponent again in the other leg, making him crumple, then once in each arm, rendering him completely unable to fight back from where he lays.

“Yo,” you say casually, but you’re trembling all over. Your torn shirt is staining quickly.

“You got cut,” Zoro states. He tries to pull your arm away so he can see your wound better, but you step back.

“I’m okay,” you say. You and Zoro both look down at your abdomen as you pull your arm away just slightly, and Zoro sees the unmistakable grayish-pink of your large intestine before you quickly plug up the gash with your arm again. You look back up at him. “It’s just a scratch.”

Zoro’s about ready to stab you himself, his eyes going wide with horror and rage.

“Are you insane?!” he shouts. “A scratch?! Shit, where’s Chopper–?!”

“Ha ha–ow ow ow, hurts to laugh.” You grin, but Zoro notices you tearing up from the pain.

“Okay, just, stay still,” his hands are held up hesitantly, unsure of what to do, and he calls over his shoulder. “CHOPPER! Get over here right now!”

Once Chopper arrives, he applies an emergency field dressing and instructs Zoro on how to safely carry you back to the ship’s infirmary. You act like you’re in high spirits the entire way there, smiling up at Zoro like everything’s fucking dandy.

“This is kinda nice,” you say. “I haven’t been carried since I was little.”

“After you heal,” Zoro says, “I’ll carry you around as much as you want, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he says gently. “Does it hurt?”

“Of course not,” you say, and Zoro curses himself for having asked–he can see you wince with every harsh step he tries to avoid.

“We’re almost there. Almost there.”

“Relax, big guy. I’ve been through worse.”

You haven’t. He’s been in every major fight you’ve been through, and it’s never been this bad. Your blood is still warm on his skin, and your color’s getting paler, and it’s all because he couldn’t protect you.

The surgery takes longer than he thought. He’s pacing the hallway outside the infirmary so much that even Sanji starts to make a comment, which would have started a fight had Robin not intervened and sternly told them both that everyone was worried.

When you come to, it’s to the sight of Zoro standing over your bed. You don’t manage so much as a ‘yo’ before Zoro gets onto his hands and knees, bowing so low his head touches the floor.

“I’ll never let it happen again!” he says, minding his volume–Chopper is only allowing him to visit because Zoro promised he wouldn’t stress you out. “It’s my fault! I’m sorry–”

“Get up.”

He peers up at you. Your face is twisted up like you’re holding something back, but you force it into a sneer.

“Get up right now, or I’m going to make fun of you,” you say. He hesitates long enough for you to roll your eyes. “Don’t be a pussy.”

That brings him right back to his feet. “What’d you call me?!”

“You heard me,” you say. “I’m alive, aren’t I? So relax.”

“I can’t relax!” Zoro snaps. “You got hurt because of me! I was too weak! I couldn’t–couldn’t stop this from happening!”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever?!” He no longer minds his volume. “How can you be so–so calm about this?!”

“How can you be making this about yourself?”

That shuts him up real quick. Realizing his mistake, Zoro starts to get a sour feeling in his stomach, but you only smile.

“Now you know what it feels like,” you chuckle and wince, “ow–what it feels like to have someone be dismissive of your injuries. So the next time you get hurt, you big dumb idiot, how about you have some self awareness and let me worry?”

Zoro deflates a little. “I still can’t just forgive myself like that.”

“I’ll do it for you.” You hold out your hand until he takes it. “Roronoa Zoro, I forgive you–so long as you do one thing for me.”

He leans in. “Anything. What is it?”

“Even with the pain meds, I’m still sore. Kiss it better?” You smile the way you do when you’re joking, but it soon turns to a look of surprise when Zoro leans in even closer. He hesitates for a moment, face hovering above yours, before his free hand comes to cradle the back of your head and he presses a firm, intent kiss to your lips.

You stare at him when he pulls away, your expression slowly morphing into a smile–not a playful one, not a masking one, but a real smile.

“W-What’s with that look?” Zoro says, flustered now. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“I meant kiss my stomach, dummy.”

Zoro’s eyes widen, but before he can remedy his mistake, you weakly pull him back in for another kiss. This time, he obliges without question.

Sanji

Sanji barely dodges a brutal strike from his opponent, then finishes them off with a flaming kick to the skull. You grin at him as you down your own opponent with a heavy strike from one of your tonfa.

“Careful there, Hotfoot! He almost got you!” you yell gleefully, only to narrowly avoid getting hit yourself.

“Worry about yourself, Sticks!” Sanji calls back, mirroring your grin.

“They’re not sticks!” you say yet again, smashing one of the tonfa into a pirate’s head and knocking them out cold. “You’re just jealous I can fight with my hands!”

“I choose not to fight with my hands!”

“Sure you do!”

You were well aware of Sanji’s commitment to only use his hands to cook, but it was still fun to pretend it was a skill issue. Sanji knew it was all teasing anyway. The two of you greatly enjoyed your banter, whether in or outside of battle. As physical fighters, your rivalry was a friendly one. After all, out of everyone in the crew, you spent the most time talking to each other.

The next wave of pirates comes, this time stronger than before–the enemy’s commanding officers. The battle becomes too serious for you to go on making comments, and your focus gets pulled toward your opponents.

It’s a hard, bloody fight. As soon as he defeats his opponent, he worries about how the others are faring. The rest of the crew is almost done with their own one-on-ones, and he finds himself rushing to find you first, his pace hurrying when he finds one of your tonfa lying off to the side.

You’re straddling your opponent on the ground. Your non-dominant hand is broken, held crookedly against your chest, and you’re bleeding from your hairline and mouth. With your good hand, you beat your tonfa into your opponent’s skull, over and over, a broken cry tumbling from your bloody lips with every strike. Your opponent is no longer moving, but you don’t stop, tears streaming from your eyes as you mash his face to a visceral pulp.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Sanji skids to a stop next to you, grabbing your wrist before you can strike again. “He’s dead! It’s over. It’s over. You won.”

You look at him with wide eyes. Your mouth is held open, and at first, Sanji doesn’t realize what’s wrong, but he can tell you only won by a hair from the way you’re trembling. He gets down and pulls you into a gentle hug. “I got you,” he says. “I got you. You’re okay now.”

He holds you at arm’s length and checks over your body for any injuries, finding none. Mouth still open, you pull away from him and start patting the grass with your good hand, searching for something.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” he says. “Please, say something.”

Sanji expects something tired and sarcastic, like ‘you don’t look much better.’ Instead, you make a strange, groaning noise as your response, and he feels a chill run through his body. You always had a quick retort for him, even when things were dire.

You seem to find what you were looking for, your hand closing around something. Sanji helps you stand up, and when you open your hand, he sees a few teeth in your palm that must have gotten knocked out.

“Your jaw’s broken,” Sanji realizes aloud, and you nod, and suddenly the way you hold your mouth open is deeply unsettling.

The silence that follows your surgery, however, puts Sanji at an even greater unease. Your jaw is wired shut to let the bone heal, and Chopper says that for the next six weeks, you won’t be able to speak at all.

You carry around a notepad with you, but for a while after you wake from the anesthesia, you don’t write anything down except to answer Chopper’s questions, opting instead to sulk.

“Come on, Sticks,” Sanji says lightly as he signs the cast on your hand. “I know you have something to say.”

You flick him off with your good hand, then seem to regret it, your face fallin along with your hand. Sighing through your nose, you grab your notepad and scribble something down, then hold it up for him to see.

‘I look like a chipmunk.’

The lower half of your face has, naturally, swollen up. Sanji shakes his head. “No, no, you look fine! You…” A pointed look from you makes him concede. “Okay, yeah. It’s swollen. What did you expect?” You look away, and he pats your shoulder. “Ah, come on, it’s not so bad. Most people find chipmunks cute, you know.”

Your eyes widen slightly and you give him a look of surprise. Sanji stiffens.

“Um, well, I mean…” he stammers. Though he doesn’t leave, for the rest of that day, you both avoid looking at each other.

From the beginning to the end of your healing process, Sanji stays by your side, always finding a way to make you feel better. He’ll hype you up by doing a drumroll while he’s waiting for you to finish writing out a thought, something which the rest of the crew picks up as well. When you’re hanging out with him in the galley, he’ll do hibachi tricks with the food he prepares to cheer you up.

The food he makes for you especially helps you get through the long weeks. You were severely bummed out at having to miss his cooking for weeks–until the first sip of the soup he cooked. You never knew a liquid diet could be so delicious. Sanji takes the time to roast and blend anything you’d wanted. Thanks to him, being unable to chew food doesn’t affect your nutrient intake at all.

He also indulges you in your favorite drink without you having asked, which is surprising. It’s not the first time he’s gone out of his way like this, but it does feel more special when you’ve been in such a vulnerable state.

‘Maybe there’s an upside to this after all.’

Sitting in the galley while Sanji cooks, you hold up your notepad for him to read.

“And what is that?” he says, walking around the prep table with a mixing bowl in his arms, looking down at what you’re writing.

‘I love y’

You pause, staring at your notepad with a weird, dumbstruck look. Sanji’s eyes widen, slowing down his mixing for a second, but you quickly recover and finish scribbling.

‘I love you treating me extra special.’ You hold up the notepad hesitantly, avoiding his eye.

Though feeling warmth rise in his chest, Sanji plays it cool. “Well, I’m glad you’re finding the positive in this,” he says. “I personally miss the sound of your voice.”

You drop your notepad and fumble to catch it with only one good hand, accidentally smacking it to the floor. Both you and Sanji crouch down to pick it up, and freeze when your hands touch.

The urge to say ‘sorry’ is strong, though you can’t speak. Face burning, all you can do is look at him apologetically and hope he understands. But when you do, he’s looking back at you with the same expression he has when he reads a brand new recipe. Like he’s figuring something out.

You go to pull your hand away, but his fingers close around yours. “I, uh… I really mean that, you know.”

Swallowing, you glance down at his hand holding yours, then back up at him, and nod.

“Y/n,” he says, letting go of your hand to instead cup your cheek tenderly. “Would you… I mean. Can I…?”

With your heart pounding, you nod again, and Sanji leans in. You close your eyes, and a moment later, his lips brush yours, feather-light. Just that barest contact makes your head spin almost as bad as it did when you got your injury in the first place.

Sanji breaks free, and you stare at each other. A slow smile spreads across your lips at the sight of his nose starting to bleed. You both stand up, and you write something down quickly.

‘I’m sorry I can’t kiss you back.’

“That’s okay,” he says, reading the note over your shoulder. He rubs the back of his neck, grinning. “I’ll gladly do all the work.”

And Sanji does, in the quiet, private moments where it’s just the two of you. And yet, when the day finally comes for Chopper to remove the wires, and the first thing you do upon leaving the exam room is call out Sanji’s name, he’s so elated that he picks you up with a spin, kissing you in front of everyone before he can help himself.

#one piece imagines #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #x reader #reader insert #zen writes

1K notes · View notes

augustwinesworld · 16 days ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭

you didn’t know if you wanted to cut it.

description: the trio gets their hands on ODM gear, a decision that will affect their rest of their lives without them knowing.

pairing: underground! levi x underground! reader

genre: pathetic yearning/ fluff

warning: tooth rotting

notes: the virgin induced christian yearning in this one makes the wait completely worth it.

word count: 4.3 k

extra: moodboard | playlist | ☆:**:. 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞 .:**:.☆

Feel free to #𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 (◕‿◕✿) *:･ﾟ✧ if you have any scenarios in mind! I might not write everything but I’ll respond to everyone.

series masterlist: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭

If the Underground had one redeeming quality, it was this: its endless maze of abandoned

Silent, shadowed, and forgotten by most—ideal for watching without being seen.

From your vantage point across the street, Ksaver's tavern was alive with noise and chaos.

The glow of lanterns spilled onto the streets, illuminating clusters of drunk Garrison soldiers who lingered outside, laughing too loudly and leaning too heavily on each other.

“You’d think they were on leave,” you muttered, shifting slightly behind the dusty crate that hid you from view.

“They definitely think they are” Furlan replied with a grin, adjusting the straps of his satchel. His gaze flicked toward the warehouse looming just beyond the bar. “A couple more drinks, and they won’t even notice if we waltz in and take what we want.”

“Don’t get cocky. Drunk doesn’t mean blind. If we get caught, there are no second chances.”

The warehouse stood high next to the tavern, though still inconspicuous. A fortress of stone and steel—thick walls with narrow windows barred by iron.

A single lantern above the main entrance cast an eerie glow over the heavy steel door.

If you stop to think about it, so many defenses make the hideout look out of place compared to the surrounding buildings—but to be fair, it's not that weird either.

And section D-4.

The warehouse’s location was no accident. It was close to one of the main access points to the surface, a perfect hub for transporting supplies or weapons.

Its proximity to the tavern provided a convenient excuse for soldiers to loiter nearby, their presence both a deterrent and a cover.

Strategically, the spot was flawless. The surrounding alleys narrowed into natural chokepoints, ideal for defending against an attack or ambush.

But the same features that made it easy to guard also made it predictable.

Once again, you scanned the perimeter, noting the lazy paths of the patrolling guards. Their footsteps irregular, as though they were half-heartedly going through the motions.

Furlan shrugged off Levi’s warning, his grin widening as he gestured toward the soldiers at the bar. “You know, they don’t look all that bright. One distraction, and we’re golden.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping into that dangerously calm tone he always used before losing his patience. “One mistake, and we’re dead. This isn’t a game, Furlan.”

You stifled a sigh, crouching lower as you scanned the warehouse’s perimeter. A pair of guards moved methodically near the entrance, their lanterns casting faint pools of light. “Relax, Levi,” you said, your voice low but steady. “We’ve got this.”

His piercing gaze snapped to you, cutting through the dim light. “If I had a coin for every time you said that right before things went to hell, we wouldn’t need this job.”

Furlan snickered, nudging Levi’s arm with his elbow. “Lighten up, Captain. You’ll give yourself wrinkles.”

“Keep talking,” Levi muttered, his hand tightening around the hilt of his blade, “and I’ll give you something worse.”

Despite the harsh words, there was a rhythm to this—it was a routine that had carried you through countless close calls.

Still, the stakes felt higher tonight.

The plan was deceptively simple: avoid the guards, slip into the warehouse unnoticed, grab the gear, and get out. No unnecessary risks—but if they spotted you, there would be no retreat. You’d have to fight your way out.

Securing the ODM gear was the top priority, no matter the cost.

Levi crouched beside you, his eyes fixed on the guards patrolling the perimeter. “We move on my signal. Stay close, stay quiet, and don’t lose focus. If they see us, we end it fast—no hesitation.”

“Got it,” Furlan whispered, adjusting the straps on his satchel. “Though I doubt they’re sharp enough to notice anything.”

“They’re drunk, not blind,” Levi muttered, his voice low but edged with warning. “And even if they were, don’t get sloppy. We can’t afford mistakes.”

You stayed silent, your focus locked on the warehouse.

The guards’ paths were sloppy but predictable with patience.

They lingered near the main door longer than necessary, sharing drinks and trading jokes before pacing the perimeter with uneven steps. Their torches cast moving shadows, perfect for slipping through undetected.

Levi moved first, slipping into the dim alley like a shadow. His footsteps were silent as he hugged the wall of a neighboring building, gesturing for you and Furlan to follow.

One at a time, the three of you crossed the narrow street, sticking to the darker corners as you approached the back of the warehouse. The steel door loomed ahead, reinforced and locked tight.

The faint scuff marks near the hinges and chipped paint around the lock told a familiar story: this wasn’t the first time someone had tried to break in.

When you reached the side door, Furlan knelt to pick the lock, his fingers moving deftly over the worn mechanism.

“You sure you’ve got this?” you asked, glancing nervously over your shoulder.

He grinned without looking up. “Relax. It’s not my first dance.”

The lock clicked, and Furlan pushed the door open with a shit-eating grin. “After you,” he said with a mock bow.

Such a moron.

The air inside was thick with the smell of oil and rust, suffocating with very little light.

“There,” Levi said, his voice low as he nodded toward the far end of the room. Different sets of ODM gear hung on racks, their metallic components gleaming faintly.

You moved cautiously, your footsteps muffled by the dust-covered floor. Furlan reached the gear first, his grin widening as he inspected one of the sets. “A little outdated,” he murmured, running his fingers over the mechanisms. “But definitely worth the trip.”

“Take it and go,” Levi ordered, his gaze darting toward the door. “We’re not sticking around.”

You slung one set over your shoulder, the weight pressing heavily against your back as you adjusted the straps. On the other hand, Levi and Furlan grabbed two each just in case.

Just as you turned toward the exit, the sound of muffled voices reached you.

Your stomach dropped.

The guards were at the back door.

Levi’s hand shot up, signaling for silence. The three of you froze, your breaths shallow as the voices grew louder.

“They’ll notice the open lock,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Levi’s jaw tightened, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “If they come in, we take them out. Quick and quiet.”

The door creaked open, and two guards stepped inside, their lanterns sweeping across the room. Their boots scuffed against the floor as they muttered to each other.

The creak of the warehouse door sent a chill down your spine. Lantern light swept through the space as two guards stepped inside, their boots crunching faintly on the dusty floor.

“Check the racks,” one of them ordered, his tone clipped. “Captain’ll have our heads if we lose track of anything in here.”

Your heart pounded as the light moved closer to your hiding spot. The narrow gap between the crates was barely enough to conceal the three of you, and the weight of the ODM gear on your back made every shift of your body feel agonizingly loud.

“Wait,” one guard said suddenly, his footsteps halting. “Something’s missing.”

Shit.

Levi’s pointed gaze flicked toward you and Furlan, his fingers already tightening around the hilt of his blade.

The second guard stepped up to the racks, running his hand over the empty hooks where the gear had been. “What the hell…? It was here yesterday.”

Furlan’s grip on the strap of his satchel tightened. “They’re gonna figure it out,” he whispered, barely audible.

Levi’s eyes narrowed. “On my mark,” he murmured, his voice a thread of steel.

The first guard turned, his lantern swinging dangerously close to the crates. “Check the other side of the room. Maybe someone moved it.”

Levi moved before the guard could take another step. Silent as a shadow, he emerged from the gap and closed the distance in an instant. The flash of his blade was quick, precise—a clean strike that dropped the first guard before he could make a sound.

The second guard spun, his eyes wide with shock. “Hey! What—”

His shout was cut short as you lunged forward, your hands already on the haft of the short blade tucked into your harness. The guard’s lantern fell, clattering to the ground as he stumbled back, your blade slicing through his defenses.

Furlan stepped out next, grabbing the fallen lantern and snuffing its flame before the light could draw attention from outside. “Subtle,” he muttered, his grin strained but intact.

“Clear,” Levi said, his voice low as he scanned the room. He crouched to check the fallen guards, his movements quick and efficient. “We need to move. Now.”

You nodded, adjusting the weight of the gear on your back. The warehouse felt heavier with silence now, the echoes of your scuffle fading into the distance.

“Think anyone heard that?” Furlan asked, his tone almost casual as he slung his gear over one shoulder.

Levi didn’t answer, his focus already on the exit. He motioned for you to follow, his movements still sharp and deliberate.

The three of you slipped out the side door, sticking to the shadows as you retraced your path through the narrow alleys. Every sound seemed amplified—the scrape of your boots against the stone, the distant hum of voices from Ksaver’s tavern.

As you reached the edge of the alley, Levi raised a hand, signaling for a halt. He peeked around the corner, his grey eyes scanning the street ahead.

“All clear,” he said finally, stepping forward.

Relief flooded through you, though it was short-lived. The weight of the gear pressed heavily against your back, a constant reminder of what you’d risked—and what you’d gained.

By the time you reached the safety of your hideout, the adrenaline had begun to wear off, leaving your limbs heavy and your mind buzzing with exhaustion.

“Well,” Furlan said, dropping his gear onto the table with a thud. “That was fun.”

Levi shot him a glare, his voice cold. “You call that fun? If you hadn’t been so loud earlier—”

“Relax,” Furlan interrupted, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “We got what we came for, didn’t we?”

You sat down heavily, the stolen gear still strapped to your back. Despite the tension, a small smile tugged at your lips. “We’re alive. That counts for something.”

"Barely."

Levi didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on the gear. Finally, he nodded, his expression softening just slightly. “This was just the start. Next time, there won’t be room for mistakes.”

The abandoned factory near the hideout became your training ground.

It was vast and empty, the towering beams and rusted catwalks providing the perfect place to test the ODM gear without drawing attention.

Levi, annoyingly so, took to it immediately—balanced, studious, and calculated.

The same as always.

Watching him soar through the air, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

Furlan stood below, arms crossed, grinning up at you as you adjusted the straps of your harness. “Sure you don’t want to let the expert go first?”

You snorted, securing the final strap across your chest. “Pretty sure we’re both equally clueless about this.”

“Speak for yourself,” he replied, stepping back as you approached the edge of the platform. “I’ve been preparing for this my whole life. Born to fly, you know.”

Levi, perched on a beam several feet above, didn’t bother looking down. “Born to crash, maybe.”

Furlan gasped dramatically. “Was that a joke? From Levi? Someone mark this moment in history.”

“Keep running your mouth, and I’ll make sure you’re the first to ‘fly,’” Levi muttered, tightening his grip on his gear. His gaze flicked to you briefly, as if checking to ensure you hadn’t strapped something wrong.

The mechanisms in your gear hissed softly as you tested the triggers, the faint resistance sending a thrill of anticipation through your body. You took a deep breath, your fingers steady despite the rush of nerves in your chest.

“Alright,” you said, stepping closer to the edge. “Let’s see what this thing can do.”

The grapples shot out with a loud metallic hiss, embedding themselves into a beam high above. Gas hissed from the canisters on your back, and suddenly, you were airborne.

The initial jolt nearly threw you off balance, the weightless sensation both exhilarating and terrifying.

Air rushed past your face as the world blurred around you, beams and scaffolding flashing by in streaks of rusted metal.

You adjusted the tension, the pull of the cables propelling you forward in a shaky arc.

Then you realized your trajectory was off—badly off. You were heading straight for a beam.

“Shit,” you muttered, trying to adjust the line, but your inexperience betrayed you. The controls felt clunky, unresponsive. You braced for impact, your heart hammering.

The collision never came. Instead, a harsh tug yanked you sideways, and suddenly, Levi was there, his arm locked around your waist as he propelled you both toward a safer landing.

You hit the platform with a stumble, Levi steadying you as you regained your footing. His grip was firm, his breath steady despite the chaos of the moment.

“Careful,” he said, his tone clipped but quieter than usual.

You looked up at him, your chest still heaving from the adrenaline. His face was close—too close—and for a moment, all you could do was blink at him. “Thanks,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I had it under control.”

Levi raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of disbelief and mild irritation. “Right. That’s why you were about to introduce your face to a steel beam.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the way his gaze lingered on yours made the words falter. There was something unreadable in his expression, an intensity that made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the gear strapped to your back.

“Uh… you can let go now,” you said, your voice higher than you’d intended.

Levi blinked, as if realizing for the first time that he was still holding you. He stepped back quickly, his arms dropping to his sides with a stiffness that bordered on awkward. “You’re lucky I was watching,” he muttered, looking away.

“Always am,” you shot back without thinking, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

The silence that followed was loud.

Too loud,

Fuck.

Furlan’s laughter cut through it, his voice echoing from below. “Oh, that was smooth. I’ll give you that one.”

You turned, glaring down at him. “Shut up, Furlan.”

Levi cleared his throat, adjusting the straps of his gear. His expression was unreadable again, though a faint pink tint dusted the tips of his ears. “Get back up there,” he said flatly, nodding toward the scaffolding. “You’re not done until you stop flying like a drunk bird.”

The next few days blurred into a grueling routine. Each of you took turns practicing with the gear, alternating between bursts of progress and painful missteps. Furlan’s attempts often ended in chaos—his grapples tangling in beams, or his launches sending him spinning uncontrollably.

“Maybe this thing just doesn’t like me,” he muttered after his third crash into a stack of crates.

Levi, of course, took to the gear with ease. His movements were perfect: deliberate and efficient, each arc and turn executed with precision. Watching him was equal parts inspiring and frustrating—how did he make it look so easy?

One afternoon, after another exhausting round of practice, you sat on a ledge adjusting your gear. The straps were digging into your shoulders, the weight feeling heavier after hours of trial and error.

“You’re overthinking it,” Levi said, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You glanced up at him, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stepped closer, crouching beside you as he gestured toward the triggers in your hands. “You’re forcing the movement. The gear’s designed to work with your body, not against it. You’re trying too hard to control it.”

His voice was calm, measured, but the proximity made it impossible to focus. His fingers brushed against yours as he adjusted your grip, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through you.

“Relax your wrist,” he said, his tone softer now. “Let the momentum carry you.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you tried to ignore the way your heart had started pounding. “Got it.”

Levi stepped back, his arms crossing as he watched you with that same intense focus. “Try again.”

You inhaled deeply, gripping the triggers as you launched upward. This time, the motion felt smoother, more natural. The air whipped past your face, and when you landed on the next platform, you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face.

“Better,” Levi called, his voice carrying easily across the factory.

You turned back to him, your chest tightening at the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was subtle, barely there, but enough to leave you feeling unsteady all over again.

Furlan’s voice echoed from below. “Alright, lovebirds, break it up! Some of us are trying to survive down here!”

You rolled your eyes, heat rushing to your cheeks as you shouted back, “Shut up, Furlan!”

Levi didn’t respond, but the small smirk that flickered across his face was enough to make you forget your embarrassment—if only for a moment.

That evening, Furlan announced he was done for the day, dramatically clutching his lower back as he slumped onto a crate. “I think the gear hates me,” he said, shaking his head. “And honestly, I’m starting to hate it back. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

Levi barely glanced at him. “Good. You crashing into things is getting annoying.”

Furlan chuckled as he headed for the exit, leaving you and Levi alone in the cavernous space of the factory. The air was cooler now, the sounds quieter as the faint hum of distant life settled into an almost eerie calm.

It was just you and Levi now, the dim light from the fractured windows casting long shadows over the beams and scaffolding.

You tightened the straps on your harness, pretending the silence wasn’t getting to you. “I’m going again,” you said, breaking the quiet.

“Not like that,” Levi’s voice cut in, sharp but softer than usual.

You turned to him, frowning. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on you like he was sizing you up—not in the critical way he usually did, but as if deciding whether to elaborate. He stepped closer, his movements deliberate, and gestured to your harness. “Your straps. They’re too loose.”

You hesitated, glancing down at them. “They feel fine to me.”

“They’re not.”

Levi was already in front of you, his hands reaching for the straps before you could protest. The adjustment was quick, precise, and practical—his gloved fingers deftly tightening the leather across your collarbone with a firm but careful touch.

It should’ve been nothing, and yet you felt it everywhere. The warmth of his hand through the glove, the way he was so close you could feel his presence like a weight pressing against you. Your breath hitched despite yourself, and you fought the urge to look at him.

But you couldn’t help it. Your gaze flicked upward, catching him in a moment of complete focus. His expression was neutral, eyes locked on the harness, his attention so sharp it felt unfairly indifferent—like you weren’t standing right there, hyper-aware of every small motion he made.

“There,” he said, stepping back slightly. His voice was calm and clipped, efficient as always, but there was a flicker of something—hesitation?—in the way his gaze lingered on your face before dropping back to the straps.

You nodded, your voice quieter than intended. “Thanks.”

But instead of stepping away fully, Levi’s eyes shifted downward, landing on the straps at your waist and thighs.

His jaw tightened for half a second, his hand hovering as though he might reach for them. The urge was fleeting but sharp, a thought that passed too quickly to stop but lingered just long enough to make him tense.

He dropped his hand, straightening and stepping back with a slight shake of his head, which was now beet red. “The lower straps are loose too,” he muttered, his tone soft but edged with something he couldn’t quite hide. “Fix them before you go again.”

Your pulse quickened as you followed his line of sight, fumbling with the straps around your waist, your fingers clumsy against the worn leather. His words were practical, but the air between you felt anything but.

“Right,” you murmured, tightening the buckles and avoiding his gaze.

Levi crossed his arms, his eyes flicking back up to your face once you were finished, like he was assessing your work. “Next time, check everything,” he said, his voice steadier now, though the faint tension in his jaw remained.

You nodded again, swallowing hard. “Got it,” the silence stretched, thick and heavy with things you didn’t know how to name. Your face grew hot as you tried to come up with something to say—”um, thanks.”

You adjusted your stance, focusing on the triggers in your hands, trying to shake the weight of his attention. But it was impossible to ignore the way his presence settled over you, like an anchor you couldn’t pull free of.

It was nothing, and yet it wasn’t. You hated how aware you were of him, how he—

“Try it now,” he said, his voice softer this time.

You nodded again, turning toward the edge of the platform with shaky hands.

The grapples hissed as they shot out, embedding themselves into the beams high above. Gas propelled you forward, and for a moment, everything else fell away—the nerves, the tension, the weight of his eyes on you.

But when you landed, breathless and steady, it was all there again.

“Better,” he said, stepping forward. His approval was quiet, almost reluctant, like he didn’t want to give too much away.

You forced a small smile, trying not to let the words hit harder than they should. “Guess the straps really were the problem.”

His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, unreadable. “It wasn’t just the straps,” he said eventually, his voice quieter now. “You’re starting to trust the gear. That’s why it worked.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say. The silence stretched between you, not awkward but heavy, like there were too many things left unsaid.

“I’ll go again,” you said finally, taking a step back.

But Levi didn’t move.

“Wait,” he said, the word soft but firm enough to make you pause.

You turned to look at him, your pulse jumping when you saw the way his expression had shifted—something about the edges of his usual stoicism softened, just slightly. It made him look almost unsure, which was wrong in so many ways. Levi wasn’t supposed to look unsure.

“You’re still forcing it,” he said after a moment, his voice lower now, almost hesitant.

You frowned. “Forcing what?”

He sighed, stepping closer again. His hands reached for yours, adjusting your grip on the triggers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But it wasn’t—not for you, anyway. His gloves were worn and rough, the touch fleeting and practical, yet it sent a warmth curling through you that made your chest ache.

“You’re thinking too much,” he murmured, his voice so quiet you almost missed it. “The gear works with you. Stop fighting it.”

“I’m not—” you started to argue, but his gaze stopped you short.

He was close now, closer than he needed to be, and the intensity in his eyes was almost too much.

You could feel his breath, steady and even despite the distance you’d just flown, and it made you horribly aware of how uneven yours was in comparison.

“Try again,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and turned back to the edge of the platform. Your fingers tightened around the triggers, your grip firmer now but more deliberate, and you launched upward.

This time, the motion felt different. Easier. Smoother. The rush of air filled your lungs, and for a moment, you felt weightless in a way that didn’t terrify you. When you landed, it was with a steadiness that surprised even you.

You looked back at him, your chest still heaving. He was standing exactly where you’d left him, his arms crossed, his gaze sharpened but softer than usual.

“Better,” he said again, his tone quiet but unmistakably sure.

You smiled, though it felt too vulnerable, too honest. “Thanks.”

He nodded, but the way his eyes lingered made your stomach twist again. You thought about saying something—anything to cut through the heaviness between you—but before you could, he turned away.

“Don’t overthink it next time,” he said, his voice back to its usual clipped tone. But as he adjusted the straps on his gear, you caught the faintest trace of pink at the tips of his ears.

You swallowed back a laugh—soft and pathetic and a little bitter—and turned to reset your stance.

Levi didn’t look at you again, but his presence felt impossibly heavy. It was maddening, this quiet pull between you, like a thread you didn’t know how to cut.

You didn’t know if you wanted to cut it.

next chapter↠

#𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 #𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.｡.:*¤☆#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (august)#levi x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman fanfiction

169 notes · View notes

fanaticsnail · 9 months ago

Note

Snail important question;

Of any line-up of characters of your choice-

Who do you think is attracted to competency,

Who is attracted to stupidity,

Who can go either way,

And who is attracted to both at the same time (imagine;

Reader: sorry I'm late I had to fight off two different ships

Them: is that how you got that bruise on your face?

Reader: oh... Actually, I wasn't looking and pulled a push door off its' hinges into my face

Them, kicking off their pants: god you're so fucking stupid, sit on my face

)

Also, I feel like there are different versions of competency and stupidity. Street smarts vs social obliviousness. Book smarts vs functionally illiterate. Strategic/battle smarts vs what-do-you-mean-flashing-the-enemy-isn't-a-valid-distraction?

(Zoro is completely math smart and dumb in every other way)

I could imagine Luffy would be attracted to hyper specific competency. If you're really into a specific thing and good at it and it's your dream he would absolutely love it even if it sounds like you're speaking gibberish to him. He wouldn't even think of it as weird - I mean, no more weird than any other dream he doesn't personally understand - he's certainly not the type to judge based on societal norms. You could talk his ear off about the reproductive habits of different animals and he wouldn't get why everyone else doesn't like to hear it when they're eating but hey more food for him.

Snail. Your asks always know how to get the better of me. Have a series of little drabbles, dear.

Competency, Stupidity, Duality

Masterlist here

Word Count: 410+, 510+, 580+

Synopsis: They can't help what attracted them to you. No matter what you did, they simply couldn't get enough of you. Their emotions finally catch up with them, and they confess their adoration for you.

Themes: variety x gn!reader, feelings, injury, mentions of battles, finally giving in, all different 'reader' inserts, confessions of love, kid x reader, zoro x reader, killer x reader, angst, fluff, sweetness.

Notes: I wasn't expecting to write this today, but I've been thinking about the big boys lately and I needed to give them some love. Something about trios lately.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

Competency: Eustass Kid

When Eustass Kid noticed how quick and sharp you were to react in life or death circumstances, he was immediately smitten with you. Being a Straw-Hat, your ambitions and dreams were fostered by your playful captain as you sailed aboard the Thousand Sunny. Your ability to interact flawlessly by balancing the combined efforts of the three crews had him intrigued by your charisma.

Fighting by your side was something he didn’t expect to affect him so much. The way you researched the strengths and weaknesses of all three crews sailing and fighting together was admirable. Asserting yourself by asking Law to push and pull you closer to the fight with the Ope-Ope no Mi ability, while fighting side-by-side with Massacre Soldier Killer in close quarters, had him left wordless.

After the battle finishes, he watched as you hastily aided your crew of their injuries while disregarding your own; putting others first while adding pressure to your hand-gash, hovering it over your head to slow the bleeding. He couldn’t get enough of you.

He needed you to know how he felt about you, but being in the presence of Luffy and Law always seemed to bring out the more juvenile side of attitude. His simple attraction and infatuation with you had to be revealed to you in due time, but he couldn’t risk sounding like an idiot in front of you. He would have to simply wait until you were alone and unoccupied before he made his move to take care of you after taking care of others.

Slowly approaching you as you sat down against the tangerine grove aboard the Thousand Sunny, his shadow shrouded your form and prompted you to gaze up into his scarred, sheepish face. Your smile caused his heart to beat harder and his head to swirl with a variety of "what-ifs". Gulping back his insecurities, he knelt down in front of you.

“Let me take care of that for you,” he offered with a soft smirk, “You’ve done so much for others, and I think your hand needs some seeing to.”

“If you say so, Captain Kid,” you shrug, offering your injured hand delicately to him and listening to his every instruction as he treats you, “I wasn’t aware you had any medical training.” He straps your hand in a bandage, placing down the final ties before holding your injured hand in his.

“I don’t,” he shrugged with a smile atop his painted lips, “But I’ve lost an arm before, and I don’t want to see that happen to you.”

“You’re-...” he stuttered over his words, gazing at your hand before softly drifting his tired eyes up, “...-You amaze me. Truly, amaze me.” You place your other hand on his, never once removing your eyes from his face as he offers you such kindness.

“Thank you, sir,” you nod to him with a soft smile, “You amaze me, too.”

Stupidity: Roronoa Zoro

“Why would you do that?” Zoro roared at you, hovering his body over yours and caging your face-down body within a shield of his own. The gashes on your back were deep, your body weeping out the red essence and staining your clothes with it.

“C-Couldn’t risk yours,” you stuttered out with a soft smile, “H’was gonna g-get yours. Didn’t want you to wear the shame.” His eyes widened, filling with a steam of glossy tears that threatened to spill over the moment you stuttered out your confession. “That’s what you said, wasn’t it? Mark on the back is a swordsman’s greatest shame?”

Drip.

One after one, soft tears spilt down his cheeks and mixed with the fluids pooling at your back. He leaned down towards you, the heat of battle dying down with the swift, flaming kick of the blonde cook and giggling chuckles of your captain, Luffy.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he sniffed his sobs back as he leaned down to cage you, “Can’t you see? None of that fucking matters without you here.” He softly, tenderly moved you from your position on the floor to not disturb your wounds. He sat you up, cradling you against his broad chest and openly sobbed for you.

“When you get better,” he growled into your shoulder, “I will repay you for this. I will pay my debt to you.” His sobs got more desperate, not halting in the slightest when Trafalgar D Water-Law approached the two of you in your embrace.

“Let me get ‘em to the infirmary,” Law offered, gesturing for Bepo to ready the aid kit, “I’ll treat the wounds there-.”

“-I won’t leave them,” Zoro barked over your shoulder, your soft smile tugging at your cheeks in your hazy daze. “Let me go with you, Traffy. I won’t say a damn word to distract you, on my honor.” Law nods, raising his hand and spreading his fingers and offers the two words to switch positions within the infirmary: “Room, Shambles.”

As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you laughed each time Zoro chastised you for your stupidity. Echos of: “There were so many other things you could’ve done instead,” and “You stumbled into that blade like a moron and took that hit for me, idiot.” You giggled through the pain, barely feeling it as Law worked to stitch you together again.

Upon regaining consciousness, you looked to your moss-haired crewmate and offered out your hand to his bicep. His head was bowed, arms crossed over his chest, and was assumed to be napping by your bedside. Feeling your touch, he was roused from his sleep and immediately leaned forward to bring his face beside yours.

“You’re a fucking moron,” he huffed, smiling in a melancholy grin. You laughed at his insult, squeezing his muscle before retracting your hand. As you nearly drew it away to your side, he caught your hand and brought your palm up to his lips.

“My fucking moron,” he confirmed, placing a soft kiss to your palm before using it to cup his face. “I love you.”

Duality: Massacre Soldier Killer

Staring up into your face while remaining silent, resting his masked face on the heel of his palm, he listened to your recount of a very specific childhood injury that left you with an interesting scar on your thigh. Killer’s eyes never left your face, his cheeks beginning to glow warm and vibrant beneath the shroud of his mask.

“So, let me get this straight,” Captain Eustass Kid held his hand in front of his face and gave it a gentle wave to halt your words, “That sick-looking scar wasn’t from any time you served with Luffy, but because you set off a fucking harpoon and speared yourself in the leg with it?”

Killer felt himself swoon at the melody your laugh thrust into the atmosphere. He was ever thankful his blue and white mask disguised how much he was smiling beneath the shroud.

“Yep,” you popped the ‘P’ afterwards, nodding in confirmation as you sat beside Usopp and drew your tankard up to your lips, “But I learnt from it, and it hasn’t happened since.” Killer sighed, his voice almost coming out in a soft moan to reveal his growing infatuation for you. Kid barked out a harsh gaggle of laughter, clapping you on the shoulder with his right hand and gestured for you to reveal it to them.

“Let me see it again, go on,” he chuckled, removing his hand and sitting back on his seat, “Use Killer’s thigh as a prop so we can see it properly. You don’t mind do you, big guy?” Killer absentmindedly and slowly shook his head, tapping his thigh twice with his hand for you to reveal your injury to the captain of the Victoria Punk, himself and your crewmate beside you.

“Alright,” you shrugged, standing beside Usopp and Killer and gently placed your foot atop Killer’s thigh and began hiking up your shorts to your hip, “Feast your eyes, Captain.” Sure enough, an interesting looking scar was revealed on your inner thigh, clear as day and sure as the sea is salty.

“Oh, fucking hells!” Kid gave you a hearty laugh, “You seeing this, big guy?” Kid turned his attention to his first mate, his smile only growing as he noticed the angle of Killer’s mask never left your face. Surprise was immediately thrust into Kid’s eyes, noticing the unwavering resolve in Killer’s posture.

You turned your attention down to the silent and broody first-mate, your face puzzled and eyes searching his mask for any further thought or action. He slowly drew his hands up to clasp around your ankle and calf, holding it firmly as he leaned forward.

“You’re perfect,” he offered in a breathy whisper, stroking your leg and gazing lovingly into your face, “Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

Your face flushed with a warmth at his words, eyes widening and looking down at his large hands as they held you so tenderly and delicately within his grasp. Smiling, you leaned forwards and placed your hand over his scarred left forearm with mischief in your eyes, asking him a simple question with a suggestive tone.

“Like what you see then, big guy?” At your question, Usopp nearly choked on his drink. You had never been this bold before, and this came as a shock to your crew’s skilled sniper. He covered his choking with a soft cough, turning away with a downturned smile and stifling his growing laugh.

“So much,” Killer confirmed, gently caressing your calf and looking up at you through half-hooded blonde lashes beneath his mask, “So, so much.”

#one piece #x reader #roronoa zoro #eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #one piece drabbles #gn!reader #kid x reader #zoro x reader #killer x reader #op drabbles #one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece x you #one piece fluff #ask snail #snail answers

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lothcat-lothcat-lothwolf-run · 10 months ago

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me at the gym sobbing loudly on the treadmill cuz I’m watching the clone wars

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shaisuki · 8 months ago

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Hi!! Idk if you're taking requests but I'll shoot my shot!!

I wanted to know if you add onto the suna and Miya twins bully series where the reader decides to leave the team and join another (preferably nekoma) and gets a new trio (kuroo, kenma and Yamamoto) who actually praises and appreciate her and she decides to rub it in their face by sending videos of the trio fucking her and cute photos and when the Miya twins and suna try to confront her they get told off by her new boys😋

you've gotten petty and bold.

it's not like you planned it more like it was suggested to you. since you transferred to nekoma and made genuine connection to your team. it was like a weight lifted off you and you weren't scared on what about to happen. you don't get harassed after school hours and the team shows how grateful they are to you. going as far giving you trinkets they knew you would like.

nekomata-sensei treated you like his granddaughter and manabu-sensei looks out for you at times. for the first time, you thought that you really found your team for you and them the manager they always wanted. not treating you differently since you're a previous manager at powerhouse team and a regular contender in the nationals. a manager is a manager they say and you greeted them with a smile and the care you can provide for them as a manager.

that is the reason you have gotten close with the team captain. kuroo tetsurou. charming he can be and a handsome face to boost. it didn't took long for you and him to hit it and it extended with his friend and the team's setter, kozume kenma. you like kenma and it reminds you of yourself a bit. introverted and likes to keep to themself which you didn't mind at all. it took him a long time for him to warm up to you and the rest was history and there's yamamoto who can't talk without stuttering to you. kuroo said he's that nervous only when a girl talk to him. you find the gesture cute and other than his younger sister, you found out one time when you talked to him and he seems to relax at the thought of his sister, it was almost normal how he spoke to you like a friend. comfortable and inviting that's why you're the one who took his virginity.

“does it feels good, tora-kun?” you asked him, although a little breathless. his cock huge and nestled deeply inside your pussy. eyes closing and breath labored trying himself not to bust the moment you sink your fat cunt to his cock. “y-yes.” he stutters. fists clenching and he bites a back a moan when you started to move. “good. let me take care of you.”

then you began to have your own trio. the kindest of the trio. they would whisper you sweet nothings followed by appreciation that you were a good manager while you bounce on their cocks. you've never felt this so good about yourself, not even in the previous team you managed. this was the best and kuroo knowing how the inarizaki team treated you especially those three who fooled you, devises a plan. suggesting that you send a video and pictures of how they are treating you well and you agreed.

it was suna who received it. the videos and then followed many more. circumstances have forced you to left the school and went to move to tokyo where he recently found out that you were also the team's manager of the school volleyball club. he was pissed and then the twins received it. they were fuming. you allowed yourself to be somebody's cumdump instead of only them and they currently watched the videos you sent just to tub them in their faces from how good they were fucking you plus the praises that got your slutty pussy gushing.

first, it was you and then some three guys in the video. you're bouncing on someone's dick (yamamoto's) while you give a handjob to the other guy (kenma) obscured by the video and only his lower body can be seen in the video and you're blowing someone (kuroo's). his hands in your cheeks while you swallows his cock. telling you how much of a good girl you are for taking care of them and their cocks. letting them blow off the steam in their bodies to you. exceeding what a manager can do for her teammates. your speech garbled, slobbering all over kuroo's cock. they can see you were smiling while looking at the camera. swallowing his cock deeper and bouncing more on yamamoto's cock. a huge fuck you to them. all suna knows that it would be the first and last just to let them know how you're doing but it was proven wrong when you send a video again and then again.

it was different the videos are. one of them is you sitting while kuroo eats your pussy. the squelch of your pussy and the smacking of his lips can be heard while you moan in the background. your fingers gripping his hair while you grind on his face more which the latter eagerly lap your heat more. the other is all of your holes are stuff. dripping with their cum while you pose a peace sign with their spent all over you. it was endless.

and when they confronted you about it of how a huge slut are you for letting guys fuck you like that, let's say your new trio defended you. if they can't appreciate you they will and that seems to shut the ex-trio who are your bullies. ex-bullies.

you rewarded them three with a tlc that can only come from you.

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livelaughloveluffy · 4 months ago

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masterlist!

i guess the 4 years of ap english i did in high school really did pay off 😭😭😭

i'm still really new to writing fics, so i'm not really sure what i will and won't write yet; but pretty much all of my work will be extremely self indulgent (and the name black-leg sanji is carved into my heart so thats mainly what you'll find here😭)

asks/requests are open!!! feel free to drop them in my inbox or dm me!! 💗 i promise to do my best to get around to them!!

the only characters im writing for are those listed below, i do eventually hope to write for other characters as well, but i don't want to bite off more than i can chew at the moment!! 💗

if you are interested in being added to my taglist: here's a google form!!!

key:

☻- smut

♡ - fluff

☆ - modern au

• - hurt/comfort

✿ - series - same scenario/prompt written with multiple characters

sanji:

fics:

first love - black leg sanji - ♡

love letter - black leg sanji - ♡

yearning - black leg sanji - ♡ ✿

confession - black leg sanji - ♡ ✿

just the two of us - black leg sanji - ♡

cooking together - black leg sanji - ♡

early mornings with black leg sanji - ♡ ✿

500 followers special!! - steamy shower with black leg sanji - ☻

headcannons:

naps - black leg sanji - ♡ ✿

flirt - black leg sanji - ♡ ✿

first kiss - black leg sanji - ♡ ✿

comfort - black leg sanji - ♡ ✿

being with black leg sanji - ♡ ✿

longing for you - black leg sanji - ♡

his passenger princess - black leg sanji - ☆ ♡ ✿

when he's falling for you - black leg sanji - ♡ ✿

luffy:

fics:

yearning - monkey d. luffy - ♡ ✿

confession - monkey d. luffy - ♡ ✿

early mornings with monkey d. luffy - ♡ ✿

drabbles:

joyboy - monkey d. luffy - ♡

anything for you - monkey d. luffy - ♡

headcannons:

naps - monkey d. luffy - ♡ ✿

flirt - monkey d. luffy - ♡ ✿

first kiss - monkey d. luffy - ♡ ✿

comfort - monkey d. luffy - ♡ ✿

being with monkey d. luffy - ♡ ✿

his passenger princess - monkey d. luffy - ♡ ✿

when he's falling for you - monkey d. luffy - ♡ ✿

zoro:

fics:

yearning - roronoa zoro - ♡ ✿

confession - roronoa zoro - ♡ ✿

tending wounds - roronoa zoro - ♡ ✿

early mornings with roronoa zoro - ♡ ✿

drabbles:

devoted to you - roronoa zoro - ♡

headcannons:

naps - roronoa zoro - ♡ ✿

flirt - roronoa zoro - ♡ ✿

first kiss - roronoa zoro - ♡ ✿

comfort - roronoa zoro - ♡ ✿

sweet reverence - roronoa zoro - ☻

being with roronoa zoro - ♡ ✿

his passenger princess - roronoa zoro - ☆ ♡ ✿

when he's falling for you - roronoa zoro - ♡ ✿

ace:

fics:

yearning - portgas d. ace - ♡ ✿

confession - portgas d. ace - ♡ ✿

we need you here - portgas d. ace - •

early mornings with portgas d. ace - ♡ ✿

childhood friends with portgas d. ace - ♡

headcannons:

naps - portgas d. ace - ♡ ✿

flirt - portgas d. ace - ♡ ✿

first kiss - portgas d. ace - ♡ ✿

comfort - portgas d. ace - ♡ ✿

being with portgas d. ace - ♡ ✿

his passenger princess - portgas d. ace - ☆ ♡ ✿

when he's falling for you - portgas d. ace - ♡ ✿

law:

fics:

yearning - trafalgar water d. law - ♡ ✿

confession - trafalgar water d. law - ♡ ✿

early mornings with trafalgar water d. law - ♡ ✿

headcannons:

naps - trafalgar water d. law - ♡ ✿

flirt - trafalgar water d. law - ♡ ✿

first kiss - trafalgar water d. law - ♡ ✿

comfort - trafalgar water d. law - ♡ ✿

being with trafalgar water d. law - ♡ ✿

when he's falling for you - trafalgar water d. law - ♡ ✿

kid:

headcannons:

first kiss - eustass captain kid - ♡ ✿

comfort - eustass captain kid - ♡ ✿

his passenger princess - eustass captain kid - ☆ ♡ ✿

when he's falling for you - eustass captain kid - ♡ ✿

sir crocodile:

fics:

darling - sir crocodile - ☻

headcannons:

being with sir crocodile - ♡ ✿

asks/requests:

compliments - with the straw hat crew - ♡

we need you here - portgas d. ace - •

shy reader with monster trio - ♡

plus size reader - monster trio, ace, law, and eustass - ♡

work in progress:

TBD (i gotta keep some secrets to myself every once in a while...)

series prompts in the works:

-flirt (eustass version)

-his passenger princess (law version)

(i see you spam-likers and i adore you all endlessly 😭😭😭)

#text post #text #masterlist #via's fics #one piece fics #one piece

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cooneyscross · 8 months ago

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° *₊ ° . ° .• MASTERLIST and WIPs •. ° . °₊* °

⋆ ★ Kyra Cooney Cross ★⋆

Missed You More | 2.4k It's your first camp back after your ACL injury, but you best friend Kyra's acting strange ↳ Favourite Pest | 3k You finally find out what's caused Kyra to act so weird Friend of a Friend Charli introduces you and Kyra, and the two of you end up getting along a bit too well [aiming to post it around late August] Forget About it After avoiding her for as long as possible you have to play against the girl who broke your heart so many years ago. [aiming to post it around late August]

-> ⋆ Kyra and Sunny Series ⋆

•.¸¸☆Sam Kerr☆¸¸.•

6ft 5 | 0.9k You're filming a tiktok and Sam wants everyone to know your hers. ↳ 5ft 8 After signing a contract extension with Chelsea, you can't help teasing Sam over a lie she tells in a video

✧ ✦ ✧ Caitlin Foord ✧ ✦ ✧

Caitlin x child!reader series (coming soon) Squirt You're meeting the Arsenal girls for the first time Popular You find yourself the center of attention when all the girls are fighting to be your favourite But you're my mumma? Caitlin starts spending more time with Katie and less time with you

•♬✧Leah Williamson✧♬•

Enchanted | 1.6k You write a song about England's captain after meeting her briefly at an event not expecting her to share your feelings ↳ You are in Love After back and forth messaging and a few dates you and Leah begin to go more public with your relationship causing the fans to go wild [posting date tbc] Waldosia | 2.8k a condition in which you keep scanning faces in a crowd looking for a specific person who would have no reason to be there, as if your brain is checking to see whether they're still in your life, subconsciously patting its emotional pockets before it leaves for the day. Maybe in Another Life | 3.3k You hadn't seen Leah since you'd broken up three years ago and now when you see her again you being to regret ever letting her go Buffet (18+) | 1.1k Leah can't resist an all you eat meal, especially when your the main course. baby fever | 1.6k you'd always heard your friends talk about how much they wanted kids but had never felt the same until now. Crossing Loyalties Leah's a red, you're a blue and you 'hate' each other. Well at least that's what the fans think.

⋆ ★ Katie McCabe ★⋆

Take a chance on me | 1.6k With the help of a karaoke machine and a good song, Katie finally confesses her feelings for you Snapchat Katie accidentally leaks your relationship on snapchat with all the fans [posting date tbc] St Patrick's Day You're first time meeting Katie's family is on Saint Patricks day and it's a bit overwhelming [posting date tbc]

∘₊✧ Lionesses ✧₊∘

Winners are Grinners You've just won your first major tournament with your country (teen reader) [posting date tbc]

•.¸¸☆ Matildas ☆¸¸.•

No 1 trio It's a fight to see who the better trio is - Macca, Alanna and Caitlin or You, Mini and Kyra [posting date tbc] Little Menaces You and your best friend Harper Gorry are bored and decide to annoy all your aunties. (part of the Caitlin Foord x child!reader series) [posting date tbc]

⋆ ★ Alexia Putellas ★⋆

Odio Amarte | 1.6k All of your Barca teammates think you and Alexia need to get together, but the two of you are 'enemies'. First Camp It's all to much for you on your first ever Spain camp (teen reader) [posting date tbc] La Reina You finally shoot your shot with the queen of Spain [posting date tbc]

✧ ✦ ✧ Niamh Charles ✧ ✦ ✧

I wanna ruin our friendship Niamh wants more than anything to tell you how she feels but she's to scared to lose her best friend [posting date tbc] Let's tell the world you and Niamh decide it's finally time to go public with your relationship [posting date tbc]

•♬✧ CWFC ✧♬•

We made it After battling injuries, sicknesses and mental health problems for years, you finally made it all the way to the final day

•.¸¸☆AWFC☆¸¸.•

Go away (platonic) You and Kyra are always up to no good, but one day it gets all to much for your Arsenal teammates.

Scare Cam Kyra sets up a scare cam and it doesn't go to plan

✧ ✦ ✧ Lucy Bronze ✧ ✦ ✧

Don't be sorry | 3.1k the matildas lose to england in the semi final of the world cup and you take the blame

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henrioo · 1 year ago

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✦ ── THE MORNING AFTER: EUSTASS KID AND KILLER

Relationships: Eustass Kid x Gn! Reader x Killer (Poly), Kid x Killer (Suggested)

Synopsis: What would it be like to wake up only to discover that you didn't sleep with one crewmate, but two!

Warnings: Mention of sexual intercourse, waking up naked among people without clothes, mention of drunk (consenting) sex, mention of regret, mention of consequences, Soft Kid and Killer, Healthy Relationship, Polyamorous Relationship, Threesome

Word Count: 1,0k

Notes: Oh yeah baby, I really love this duo, this is the first part of a "series" of waking up the next day with a trio, I plan to do more now that I'm back but to debut we have my favorites, the next ones will probably be Zoro and sanji or Luffy and Law, hope you like it

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

It was so soft and warm… You were under a hard surface, but it was so hot that it somehow became soft? There was something around your waist and it warmed you even more. There was a layer of soft blanket under you and everything felt even better, when was the last time you slept so well? His bed wasn't even that comfortable...

Yes, your bed was not comfortable… For some reason it was a hard mattress that you always said you would change on the next island you stopped on, but you always forgot and continued on the hard bed. Also, what was that breath on your neck? Breathing? Weren't you alone?!

Still groggy and confused, you forced yourself to open your eyes to try to figure out where the hell you fell asleep this time. His head began to throb and hurt as his eyes got used to the low light in the room, the windows were covered, preventing the sun's rays from illuminating everything.

You yawned loudly and shifted, or at least you tried to since there was something… someone holding you in place. You looked around and your face burned as your jaw dropped open in shock. You were lying on the chest of none other than Eustass Kid, your captain. Also, around your waist and curled around you like a puppy was Killer, the first mate.

You suppressed a scream and began to rummage through your memories in search of what had happened. You remembered very little, you had entered a drinking contest, won and then tried to stumble back to the ship to sleep. At some point you met Killer who would help you get back safely, maybe you found Kid on the ship, but nothing really explained how you ended up there.

And to make matters worse… Where were your clothes? Oh no… You couldn't believe you made a cliché like that, did you even sleep with your superiors just because you were drunk?!

Killer squeezed your waist a little more and settled on your back, you felt a shiver running through your body. Of course, you couldn't deny that they were very attractive and maybe you had a crush on them, besides obviously, it was a celebration night and the three of you must have been completely drunk and crazy… But still, that shouldn't have happened!

Not that you didn't want to… On the contrary, what situation would that put you in?! Would your peers say you were trying to curry favor? What if the two got mad and threw you off the ship?! There were so many possibilities for everything to go wrong that her head started to spin…

But you couldn't deny it, being there, in the grip of Killer's arms and the comfort of Kid's body was so lovely. You definitely wouldn't use that word for anything related to those two monstrous men, but it felt so right.

"Fuck my head" you heard Kid mumbling and closed your eyes at the time, maybe it would be better to just pretend you were sleeping.

He shifted a bit until he realized where he was, then there was silence until he finally spoke.

"Y/n" you bit your lip, that he didn't realize you were sleeping, it was his wish "I know you're awake" Damn! How did he know?!

"Captain…" you mumbled shyly and opened your eyes to stare at him. There was no negative emotion in that gaze, no anger, no disgust, he just stared at you... peacefully?

"Shut up, I still don't want to wake up" Killer said and then he buried his head in your neck and inhaled deeply, making you shiver and let out a small cry of fright.

"Killer, let go, they don't want to" Kid spoke quickly and not long after Killer released you with a disappointed mutter.

"Sorry" he said and then sat down on the bed.

You stood there looking confused at both of them, what was going on?

"You can go back to your room, let's not say anything to anyone" Kid said and yawned again, wasn't he going to tell? Did he… had he regretted it?

"Are we just going to pretend this didn't happen?" You let out with some sadness, you couldn't help but show your disappointment… Were you really that bad?

"Well, it's not exactly weird Killer waking up in my bed" Kid said teasing the other man who just swore under his breath "But by the look of you you definitely didn't want to be here, so let's just pretend it didn't happen, blah blah, you know" he said with little patience.

"But… What if I wanted to be here?" You said in a sad whisper. It was no secret to many that you really wanted both men, you just hadn't done anything imagining that your superiors would never hook up with their own subordinates.

"You want?" It was Killer who spoke, turning and facing you, at least that's what it looked like since his bangs covered his eyes.

"Maybe…" you said nervously and sat up, using the blanket to cover yourself.

"So does that stuff you said yesterday about you being in love with us being true?" Kid said, staring at you deathly.

"I said that?!" You screamed in shock, you had assumed that while drunk?!

"No" he smirked "But by your reaction it's true…"

"You idiot…" you cursed in embarrassment.

"So… Can we go back to sleep?" Killer said approaching you "Let's deal with the romantic talk after coffee"

"Yes definitely" Kid said and pulled you back into his chest, Killer then clung to you again.

"So…" you said after a few minutes of silence "If Killer is already a regular here… Can I be too?" That was her request to try and turn something from one night into much more, you had the chance to have those two men in your hand and you weren't going to waste it.

"You don't even have to ask, we're tired of hearing you complain about your bed" Killer said happily.

"Yeah, now shut up and go to sleep or I'll expel you both" Kid yelled with his eyes closed.

"Ah… And y/n" Killer whispered in his ear "We love you too…"

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