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rachelbrianne17 · 19 days

Note

congrats on 100 followers! :) id like to request kidd + his so getting hurt while protecting him

Hello Anon!! Thank you so much for this wonderful request! I am so deeply in love with Kid and this little drabble almost wrote itself. I love my chaotic Captain! Also, since you didn't specify gender, I kept it gender neutral, I hope it's alright! And I hope you like this, I had a blast writting it! ❤️

Source for pic

My Personal Hell

Word Count: 2093

Tags: gn!reader; Cursing; LOTS of cursing; SFW; Frustration; Care; Comfort; Love; Fluff; Annoyance; one use of the word cock! Tiny angst?

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You protect Kid during a Marine attack and end up pretty hurt. He has a very weird way to show his concern and affection towards you.

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn

Notes: Gosh, anyone knows who's the doctor for the Kid's Pirates? Damn this information eluded me!! 😓 I'm sorry!

|Masterlist|

“Fucking reckless idiot! Stupid irresponsible! Fuck!”

You could hear the loud crashes and breaking sounds coming from just outside the infirmary door. Even though it was closed.

“Could've gotten killed! What the fuck’s wrong with that fucking head?!”

More crashes, wood splintering, metal bending, glass shattering. You were still bordering between consciousness and the sweet limbo of unconsciousness, but his voice was unmistakable.

And if it wasn't, all the swearing gave him away.

“How long has he been at it?” Your voice sounds hoarse and raspy, scratching and itching against your throat. Grunting you open and close your eyelids, trying to adjust your vision to the brightness of the white lights. “Fuck, that's bright.”

“Since he brought you in, sweetheart. Now lay still or you'll open up the stitches. And they were a bitch to close, too.”

You stay still, chewing on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood so you can stifle your pained grunts as the Doc finishes up the last stitches.

“Like, what the fuck! Who am I?” More crashing noises can be heard and the unmistakable creak of more metal bending. “I'm Eustass Fucking Kid! The fucking Captain of this fucking ship, with a fucking 3 billion berry bounty! I don't fucking die!”

You sigh, exasperation adding to your growing pain. “Any chance I can get more drugs, Doc?” You ask, a slight edge to your voice as the vein in your forehead trembles and pops with stress.

“No can do. You’ve already had enough. Maybe if Heat brings you some of his stash, though, but no chemicals!” The Doc sternly advises and you huff, puffing your cheeks and prolonging the breath to try and distract yourself from the sounds of chaos and apocalypse that are happening just outside the door.

“I fucking know what I'm fucking doing!” Kid yells.

You keep nodding your head, counting from one to ten, from ten to one, odd numbers only, even numbers next… Until you've had enough.

“Fuck this, I’m gonna yell at him.” You let out through your clenched teeth.

“Don't yell at him, honey.” The Doc advises in a singsong voice.

“I don't jump straight into fucking danger! I'm not a fucking idiot!” Kid's roar is unmistakable. The man's pissed.

“Weeeell… I don't know about that. Agree to disagree?” Only Killer would have the balls to answer that savagely to a disgruntled Kid.

“Piss off ya fucking wanker!”

“I'm gonna yell at him.” You repeat, taking a deep breath and getting ready for it.

“Don't do it.” The Doc says again, eyes already closing and scrunching in anticipation.

“I'm gonna!” Arching your torso to try and raise yourself up sends an unbearable jolt of pain through your sternum, chest, belly and back, all at once, and you plop back down, arms hugging your form as you grunt, moan and sob in pain and desperation. Your hands punch the mattress a few times and you bite hard on your lower lip, chewing away the pain to stop sobs and moans of agony.

“I told ya, honey. Bullet wounds are fucking painful.”

The door doesn't just open: it crashes open, almost falling out of its hinges with the force it was thrown open.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

“Who here saw this coming?” The Doc asks, a big open smile and hand raised in the air, looking over the shoulder at Killer, whose muffled snickers can be heard behind his mask.

“Oh, fuck you, Kid!” You sputter with another grunt and moan. “Shove your fucking Haki up your ass! You can hear me groan and moan but you can't hear me yell: ‘Watch out, the fucking bullets are made of fucking seastone?’ You fucking blockhead, I-... OUCH!”

You cry out as a sharp pain travels all over your torso, leaving you breathless and panting.

“Brat, I could hear ya moaning with my head underwater and corks in my ears.” His voice lowers in tone, but not in arrogance. “My fucking cock twitches every time you make that sound!”

A vicious grunt leaves your lips as you're more annoyed that you actually found his retort both funny and endearing, than at himself.

“Fucking pig!” You mumble between pursed lips.

“Doc, ya done?” He asks gruffly.

“Yeah, all patched up. Unless something opens up the stitches again. Like screaming, or trying to forcefully get up! Which I don't recommend!” You roll your eyes to the back of your head at the accusations and, though you're itching to cross your arms over your chest in a defiant gesture, you don't, because you know it'll hurt like a bitch.

“Good. Leave then.” Kid scratches the chair against the floor purposefully - because he knows it pisses you off - until it's right next to your head, flips it and sits with his legs spread, his arms resting on the back of the chair, a terrifying smile pulling his lips back and revealing a sharp set of canines. “I need to have a few words with my brat.”

It's not quite fear you're feeling. You respect Kid as your captain. Very much. But you don't fear him. He huffs and puffs and barks and growls but very rarely bites.

Fear is what you felt when he was almost hit by a hail of bullets. When those Marines got cocky and thought they could take down the great Eustass Captain Kid. They weren't counting on you jumping in the way to protect your man at all costs.

Yes, even at the expense of your life.

You love Kid more than life itself. Even if he's as stubborn as a mule, as edged as a knife and, as hot-headed as a raging fire. So you regret nothing.

Lies. Perhaps you regret trying to yell at him just now. You could've avoided this conversation.

Killer and the Doc leave the infirmary and close the door behind them - after Killer places it back or its hinges - and you look at the ceiling, trying to avoid Kid’s intense, piercing gaze.

When he speaks, his voice is levelled - which is very rare for him. “This is the last time ya-...”

“Don't tell me what to do!” You snap, your head whipping towards him, and wince to hide the pain.

“Tough shit! I'm yar fucking captain! Don't like it? Jump overboard!” His hands grip the chair so hard that the metal bends and the indents of his fingers are permanently marked on it. “This was your last field mission.” His words are laced with authority and leave no room for contest.

“You can't do that!” Your voice turns into a whine, accompanied by a pout and a trembling of your lower lip, and you can only blame this childish behaviour on the drugs.

“Fucking watch me!” Kid growls as his canines appear, giving him a very feral look as his orange eyes pierce yours, daring you to defy his orders.

The silence that envelops you both is stifling and suffocating. It weighs down on you and presses harder than the sting of bullets. You love exploring new islands. You thrive on the joy and exhilaration of a fight. Kid knows that. And that's why this is your punishment.

After some moments of intense, fiery gazing, you break. Your eyes downcast as a stubborn tear escapes the corner of your eye, leaving a shiny trail of wetness on your skin. “Fuck you, Kid.” Your voice is barely a whisper. “I saved your fucking life.”

You can almost feel the tension in the room dissipate. The lights seem brighter and the air stops being charged with intense magnetism as Kid relaxes his posture. His shoulders sag and his head falls forward in a defeated position he wouldn't let just anyone see.

“I know ya did. And ya almost died. So if I can do anything to avoid that, I will. Because there's no way ya’ll die before I do. No fucking way.”

You fight but there's no way to stop the tears from flowing now. You know how he felt. Like his heart was out of his chest, being ripped to shreds in front of him and a feeling of dread and helplessness suffocating him. You felt that as well. Before you made the split-second decision to jump.

And, fuck, you'd do it again.

“They were seastone bullets, Kid. You'd never have made it out alive. I don't regret anything.”

The way his smile turned cocky in an instant made you weak in the knees. This unhinged side of Kid aroused you to no end. “I would've survived, brat. I can't get killed. Much less by wimpy fucking Marines.”

His laugh roars around the room but you don't find it amusing at all. This cockiness of his, although fucking sexy, will get him killed someday.

“Go to hell, Kid.”

You reply, eyes closing, trying to dry the flood of tears. Fists clenched against the sheets to stop the trembling and lips pursed to keep the sobs at bay.

Until his big, calloused hand finds yours and he squeezes it, showing a very rare gentleness.

“Already been, brat. When ya were bleeding out in my arms, unresponsive and dying. That was my hell. And I'll relive it ‘till the day I fucking die.”

You finally look up to meet his gaze. His eyes look shiny - though still dry - and there's no hint of his cocky grin anymore. In its stead, there's a pained grimace. An ugly twist of his usual scowl that you find you hate. You never want to see him look like this again.

“I'm sorry.” You finally utter. “Not for doing what I did - I would do it again! - but for the way my actions made you feel.” Turning your hand up, you entwine your fingers with his, your hand much smaller against his.

Kid lets out a deep sigh and as his chest deflates you notice he's still wearing blood-stained clothes. He must've been pacing in front of the infirmary door since you were brought in, just like the Doc said. “Scoot.” He tells you while getting up.

“I can't.” You whine. “If I move, everything hurts. I was shot five times, Kid.”

“Five fucking times? Fucking Killer! He said it was only two shots! Fucker!” You stifle a chuckle and hold back your comment about how he could have easily spotted the five bullet holes in your shirt because you're pretty sure he was too busy trying to keep you alive to worry about counting bullet holes.

He keeps cursing as he gets up, gently lifting you as he settles in the bed, curling you into his lap against his chest, making sure you're comfortable and not straining any wounds.

You're pretty sure the Doc is going to bite Kid's head off if they see both of you in this position, even if he's the captain, but you feel so safe, comfortable and secure that you couldn't care less.

“Kid, you can't forbid me to go out of the ship.” Your tone is almost pleading as you don't know for sure if he was being serious or not with his earlier threats.

“I know, brat. Ya love to create chaos, don't ya?”

Turning your head slowly up, you bury your nose against his neck, your fingers digging into his shirt, bringing him closer. Inhaling deeply, you take in his scent. Sweat, sea salt, rust and metal. It brings as many tears to your eyes as it brings serenity and peace. Kid's your home.

“You know I do.”

“But ya can't be jumping in front of bullets anymore. Or I'll strap ya to my back with those baby fabric things and ya have to be dangling on my back for the whole outing.”

The image brings tears to your eyes as you burst out laughing. Kid laughs with you, the sound of your laugh as sweet on his ears as his is on yours.

“That's a deal, Cap. But you need to listen to me. And stop being a foolish daredevil! You're not invincible, Kid. Don't act like you are.”

He reaches down and plants a soft peck against your head. “Aye, aye. It's a deal, brat.”

The soft rise and fall of his chest make the perfect lullaby and the drugs the Doc gave you are the perfect concoction to bring sleep to your tired bones as your eyes start to close and flutter.

“I'm glad you're alive, Kid.” You whisper, words slurred and dragged between sleepy breaths.

“I'm glad you're alive, brat. I wouldn't know how to live without you.”

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