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writing-yarn-goblin · 22 days

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YEEEEEESSSSS

best friends don’t look at each other the way we do

A Low stakes, high reward and self-indulgent Zelink fan fiction. Canon-compliant. Takes place between botw and totk

Chapter Seven: Best friends don’t look at each other the way we do

Read Chapter six here

My master list

Song: Infinite Love, Emile Mosseri

Summary: The routine is set, but are Link and Zelda really happy? Are they willing to risk everything for what they desire the most?

Warnings: Mentions of death and torture (water boarding, starting oneself, being hanged, throwing up, hair falling out, fertility issues)…zoinks

Word Count: 4.1k

Authors note: Confession time, I wrote this in October….. and I never published it for why? God knows. I’m sorry. Unedited. Be nice.

“I want to cut my hair.” Zelda says very matter-of-factly, her hands on her hips. Link looks up at her from his rice bowl.

He swallows his mouthful of food, “Oh?”

“One of the books you ‘borrowed’ from the castle says that if you want to start over with your identity, start with your hair.” She makes quotations with her fingers when she says borrowed.

“Hey look, everyone steals from the castle nowadays.” Link shrugs.

“Pish-Tosh.” Zelda huffs, “I suppose my old knickers are stolen, then?” She asks with a cheeky smirk on her face and Link almost chokes on his next bite of food.

“You’re trying to kill me?” He asks.

“No, I’m trying to cut my hair.” She says. “See if you want to reinvent yourself, start with something minuscule and semi-permanent. Besides, hair holds memories. I want to get rid of the memories I have made with this hair.”

“All of them?” Link raises an eyebrow.

“No… of course not all of them. Look, are you gonna cut my hair for me or are

you gonna make me do it myself?”

“Are you sure? I mean you’ve never cut your hair before, I know how big of a deal it was to you when we were young.” Link isn’t trying to talk her out of it, he just really wants her to be sure.

“Absolutely. Now give me your sword.”

“Woah, woah, woah.” He stands up as Zelda moves to the weapon leaning against the wall. “Okay, let's cut it.” She was sure. That was clear. The two of them face Link’s janky mirror.

“You want it here?” He asks, holding her hair at a length that was about her mid-back.

“Shorter.”

“Okay…” He pulls it up to her shoulders. “Here?”

“Shorter.”

“…okay.” Link cocks his head and brings up her neck.

“Shorter.”

“Okay, how ‘bout you show me how short you want it to be?” He drops his hands. Zelda playfully rolls her eyes and takes her hair in hand, stroking it. She then holds her hand to just under her ears, making a chopping motion with her hands.

“That’s pretty short, it’s gonna tickle your neck and you won’t be able to put it up at all.” Link says.

“I’m sorry, is it your hair?” Zelda turns around to ask him and she’s so cute when she’s angry he wants to lean over and kiss her but he doesn’t.

They‘ve been sleeping in the same bed now for about a month. They both sleep better that way, and the physical touch is very nice for both of them. They fall asleep faster, dream better, wake up later and feel more rested. The few nights they’ve tried not to, one or both of them have woken up in a fit of nightmarish sweat and tears. The beast in the woods heightened Link’s trauma response. They fall asleep apart on separate ends of the bed, but wake up in a tangled fit of slumber, holding one another. They then get out of bed and act like it didn’t happen, going on about their day as if they were just two roommates. Neither of them will deny the chemistry created between them from it, however.

Extra stolen glances, looking for too long, small touches here and there, one getting brave and rubbing the others back or tickling their arm as they fall asleep. It’s easier to act like it doesn’t happen until it happens, but both of them are miserable when they aren’t touching, but they’re also both terrified of ruining what’s been created.

“I just… like your long hair.” Link shrugs.

Zelda purses her lips, “Okay what about here.” She then makes the same chopping motion just under her jaw.

Link nods, “I like that. I’ll go get the shears.”

“Wait.” She stops him by grabbing his wrist.

“Second thoughts?”

“No.” She raises an eyebrow. “I want you to use the sword.”

“What? Why? That’s dangerous. You trust me too much.” Link scoffs.

“Exactly. There’s symbolism to it. The Goddess incarnate taking control of her own destiny.” She explains.

Link folds his arms, “okay… but why?”

“Link can’t you just accept that I have a flair for the dramatic by now?” She groans. He chuckles.

“Fine, but if it's an uneven cut you can’t blame her.” He refers to the sword and turns to get it, Zelda has to shout from the other room.

“What, like she has a mind of her own?”

“Hey, you’re the one who talks to her, not me.” Link smiles as he walks back into the room with the sheathed blade. “I was advised only to use this on evil, so I’m breaking a rule for you.”

“Oh I’m sorry, was a hearty durian evil? A fortified pumpkin?” Zelda teases, tongue-in-cheek.

Link frowns, “hey, it's not fair that you got to spy on me! Those were private situations.” The both of them laugh.

“I liked spying on you.” Her inexperienced attempt at flirting.

“That’s not creepy at all.” Link teases.

“Oh what, like opening all my drawers in my room at the castle wasn’t creepy?”

“I was looking for arrows!”

“Righttttt.” Zelda squints.

“Hey, I’m the one with the sharpest sword ever made in hand.” Link raises an eyebrow and Zelda winks before turning around.

Link unsheathes the weapon, “Kneel.” He commands her and they both blush at it. He clears his throat and tries to ignore the subtext. “Here?” He holds her hair at the spot with his left hand.

Zelda hums, “mhm.”

“Okay, stay very, very still.” Link concentrates, Zelda holds her breath. Link takes some time to line it up, trying to get the right angle. It’s hard with the length of the sword.

“Any day now.” Zelda sarcastically says.

“Will you shut up?” Link playful says, they speak that way with each other all the time nowadays.

“Make me.” Zelda flirts back and they both hold their breath. She wanted to believe Link felt the same way about her but wasn’t sure. She didn’t dare risk it. Link figured that if they were sharing a bed together, they could probably stand to do more, but he didn’t want to overstep. He didn’t dare take advantage of her. He awkwardly chuckles. His response makes Zelda cringe, and she closes her eyes tight wishing she hadn’t said that. Link just didn’t know how else to respond.

‘Idiot’ He thinks to himself, ‘I am an idiot’.

“Okay… Here I go.” Link says and then in an instant he’s pulling the master sword through Zelda’s hair and it’s cleanly sliced off.

Her long, gorgeous locks fall to the floor by their feet, and Link is just impressed with his ability. “Master Swordsman, Hero of Hyrule… Hairdresser.” He wolf-whistles at himself and spins the sword by his side.

“And soooo humble.”

“And insanely handsome.” Link tongue clicks twice.

“Can’t argue with that.” Zelda says as she’s standing up but before either of them reply, she sees herself in the mirror. Her breath is taken away, she looks at her new cut with awe, her green-eyes blowing up wide. She runs her fingers through it a few times, brushing it out.

“So, how’d I do?” He asks, leaning against the hilt of the sword.

“I love it.” She beams, seeing herself as Zelda for the first time. Not Her Royal Highness the Princess of Hyrule. Zelda then giddily jumps up and down a few times, squealing with delight. Link hums.

“I’m happy you like it.” He smiles.

“Do you like it?” She asks, turning around to show him from the front. Link smiles, examining her.

“It’s beautiful… You’re beautiful.” He admits.

They look at each other for a long time. They always give each other that look. A look of longing, of despair, of wanting to say something but not being able to. They look at each other.

Zelda pulls her eyes away.

“It’s market day, should we get ready?” She changes the subject, Link nods and she moves past him and this time Link is the one to cringe. He shuts his eyes tight, she probably didn’t want to hear that from him.

They have their little routine now. On Wednesdays they go to the pop-up market on the hill by Purah’s house. The Lurelin fishermen bring their fish and tropical fruit and trade with the Hateno farmers for milk and cheese and whatnot. Link and Zelda go there on Wednesday’s, on Thursdays they take Epona out into the forest and Link practices mounted-archery while Zelda reads. Mondays are for Hateno Favors. Getting rid of wasp nests, cleaning wells, killing bokoblins, telling stories to the little kids, in return they usually get offered rupees but the pair always refuse. The villagers started giving them eggs and herbs and spices instead. Link has started experimenting with cooking immensely.

Tuesdays are for house chores, cleaning up, building Zelda a little study in the well, Link has even taken up farming and last week he planted his first seeds for tomatoes. He doesn’t know if they’ll take root but every night he tells Zelda about how much they’ve grown or wilted.

Fridays are for stargazing and astronomy lessons. The two of them climb onto the roof and try to remember all the constellations together, Zelda has started to map them back out, this causes a lot of debates between the two of them, but it's fun.

Saturdays are Zelda’s favorite days, it's when Link takes her up to Purah’s and the two of them talk about science and inventions and Link spars in the yard. He never wants to freeze up again like he did a month ago at Dantz’s. He never wants to feel as rusty as he did again. He has never told Zelda what he saw, in fact he’s told no one, and at least it hasn’t shown back up.

And lastly, Sundays are for worship. Sunday’s are Link’s favorite day. They’ve started going to the services at the Mayor’s house, and they are very pleasant. No one knows Zelda is the literal personage they are worshiping, which it feels nice to have the anonymity that she’s gained. After worship, they come home, and Link teaches Zelda how to cook. She still hasn’t gotten very good at it, but it usually ends in laughter and an opened window and playful nudges and side aches.

And every night, Zelda sits at the table and Link paces back and forth in the room while he tells her about every adventure, every battle and every dungeon he came across over the last three years. Well… not every adventure. He leaves out details like those drunken nights of passion, or the few times he almost died, or the times he got lost.

Zelda writes it all down. It’s very important to keep records, she reminds him. Besides, she’s found that it helps her memory and motor skills, which are still lacking.

The fainting has subsided, at least a little bit. Zelda doesn’t cry every day anymore, she can bathe without feeling watched and think about her past without feeling as much guilt. It’s refreshing.

It’s refreshing for both of them, a domestic life was never something either of them were raised for, and they are both as happy as ever with their routine.

Zelda wears a pretty straw hat as she and Link head to the market. She blabbers on about the theory of gravity to Link and he’s just happy to listen. They know the villagers names now, and Zelda happily calls out to all of them as they walk by:

“How do you do, good day, so glad to see you Mrs. Faido, thank you I just cut it this morning, pleasant afternoon isn’t it?” And so on. She’s so cheerful, so full of decorum. Link gets awfully stoic as he’s seen in public, but it’s okay because Zelda does all the talking for both of them. He sometimes even reverts into his three-paces behind her, but she always stops and waits for him until he remembers to walk side-by-side these days.

Link’s stomach drops when he sees Savi at the market. It’s his first time seeing her since the night they kissed, and she meets his glance far too quickly. She smiles and waves, and he waves back like an idiot. Zelda notices.

“Who’s that?” She asks.

“No one.” Link swallows.

Zelda raises an eyebrow, she knows he’s lying. She tries to push down any jealousy she had but fails. She lifts up her chin and walks over to the girl. Link wants to reach out and stop her, but he freezes up again. Some knight he is.

“Good afternoon.” She says to Savi, “How do you an Link know each other?” Zelda says in a cool-tone. Sometimes her royal qualities came off a little too strong.

“Zelda-“ Link tries to stop her but she doesn’t allow it.

Savi almost stumbles over her words, “He helped at my father's farm some weeks ago.” She manages to get out, but she looks at Link as she says it, and Zelda is biting her tongue.

“Interesting. He never told me about you.” Zelda turns to Link.

Savi blushes, “And you are?”

“I’m his…” She stops. What was she? His Roomate? His century-old babysitting assignment? His God-Given soulmate of sorts?

“She’s my friend.” Link just smiles and nods, “My…best friend.” He walks past the women wanting to go look at the fish for dinner tonight as an escape.

The girls make eye-contact.

Zelda tries not to let that hurt her. Just a friend? They’ve been sleeping in the same bed for a month and he can’t come up with anything better?

Savi’s dark eyes get mischievous, and she takes a step to Zelda, “Just friends, hm?” Her arms fold.

Zelda frowns, “Does it offend you that we live together?” She asks, “I know the morals of Hateno Villagers like yourself are…outdated.”

Savi visibly tenses, “Have you kissed him?” She asks.

“Excuse me?”

“Cause I have.” She grins, “So even if you’re ‘best friends’, you better not act like you get some special treatment from him.” Her voice lowers as Zelda’s stomach drops. She must have shown it on her face because the girl is egging her on more after that. “Oh, he didn’t tell you? Some best friends you are.”

“When?” Zelda couldn’t care less about Link’s… activities before she was saved, but now that she’s back, everything has more weight to it.

“Oh not long ago,” She acts like she can’t remember when, her eyes tracing the outline of a thought, “Oh yeah… it was just a month ago or so.” She smirks.

Zelda’s face goes flush. Had he kissed her when he helped at the farm? When Zelda was at home alone, crying in bed because she’s broken in more ways than one? And Link decided to go out and kiss some girl?

“Link’s personal affairs are none of my business.” Zelda tries to stay relaxed but in reality she is crushed.

“Oh good. So you don’t mind if I do it again?” The girl teased.

Zelda frowned, and looked at Link who was laughing with a Lurelin villager. His laughter had a cadence of joy that filled her spirit. She doesn’t think she ever heard him laugh before the slumber. He looked at her and they made eye contact through the market.

“Excuse me, miss.” Zelda says to Savi, “But I don’t need to condescend other women to know my relationships are secure.” She returns. “Good day.” Zelda walks away, filled with gumption.

The walk home is done in silence, Link doesn’t think anything of it, and that’s what really upsets Zelda. How could he not see she was upset?

He starts dinner, she stays silent. Link whistles that same song, the one that came to him in a dream. It’s incessant. He’s clueless and it drives her insane. She’s filled with a feeling of frustration and anger. Feelings she hasn’t felt in hundreds of years. Literally. She rubs the pages of her book, not even reading a word on the page even though she stares at it.

The whistling keeps going.

She glares up at him.

Why didn’t he tell her? Why didn’t he just kiss her? He probably doesn’t want to. She’s been filling her mind with nonsense all this time. Link likely doesn’t see her as anything other than a nightmare blocker.

Or a nightmare causer.

The whistling keeps going.

Her heart rate rises. Why was this so upsetting to her? She tries to swallow her pride but can’t. She feels embarrassed. Was Link dishonest? Has he really changed that much overtime? He never would have lied to a soul in their youth, much less his Princess.

The whistling keeps going.

It rings in her ears in an unpleasant way that makes her want to bite into wood. “Can you shut up?” She blurts out in a tone that reminded both of them of their time together early on, when Link was just a silent knight who followed her everywhere.

He stops, frozen as he turns around slowly to look at her, sitting at the table and glaring up at him. “I’m sorry?” He says, clueless.

“Thank you.” She looks down at her book, a little embarrassed now.

“Is everything okay?” Link asks.

“Yes.”

“…Okay.” He turns back around to continue on dinner. Zelda slams her book closed. He turns back around. The air is thick. The tension is high.

“No. I’m not okay and it bothers me that you can’t see that.” She says.

Link blinks awkwardly. “Was I supposed to?”

“Yes!” Zelda says a little too-shrilly. She takes a breath and tries to compose herself.

“What did I do?” Link asks, trying to comprehend the situation.

Zelda sighs, “Well, lets see, you left me at home, sick, while you went into town to kiss some random girl a hundred years younger than you and then acted like it didn’t happen. I mean, did Dantz even need your help?”

Link's face goes flush, “Savi came onto me.” He feels the need to defend himself because of her accusatory tone.

“And you let her?”

“I’m not proud of it, Zel, that’s why I didn’t tell you. It was a mistake.” He keeps a level head.

“Don’t call me Zel.”

“My word, what has gotten into you?” He asks, putting his utensils down. “Why does it bother you that I kissed her?”

She can’t answer with what she really wants.

“Because it just feels dishonest! It implies you keep secrets!” Zelda huffs.

“Well… I do keep secrets.”

“Goddess, Link, did you even fight anything that night?” She asks, “Or was it all a farce?”

Link feels angry at that, how dare she say something after what Link saw, after what it did to him physically… emotionally, “Zelda you’re tired.”

“Stop telling me what I am or what I am not.”

“Stop acting like I’m some monster!” Link raises his voice for the first time.

“Stop pretending everything is fine!” She says and her voice breaks. It’s quiet for a moment.

She stands up, “I am sick, Link. You don’t even see half of it. You don’t see my hair falling out, you don’t see me throw up after almost everything I eat, you don’t see the bloody noses, you don’t see the fact that my womb is literally rotting inside me and I feel it. I am dying, Link. Calamity Ganon took every chance for full recovery I had, and left me a shell of a person who failed her kingdom.” She sobs.

Link is quiet at first, time passes, it’s only a few seconds but it feels like an eternity, “How do you want me to respond?”

“I want you to acknowledge it!”

“Okay! This is me acknowledging it, Zelda! Why didn’t you tell me about any of that?” He asks, also emotional.

“Because I don’t need you to baby me.”

“What do you want, then? Because you’re giving me very mixed signals.” He responds. “It’s not just about you, Zelda-“

“I don’t think it is!”

“Let me speak.” He stops her, barely raising his voice and staying cool, staying collected and analytical in contrast to her pain, “I have died. I spent four months lost in the Gerudo desert and was captured by Gibdos and survived by starving myself until I was skinny enough to crawl through a hole in the ceiling of their cave. I have been poisoned, shot with arrows, waterboarded, and hanged. I know what it's like to know you are literally dying because I feel it once every few months. So don’t-“ His voice cracks and he has to take a deep breath to finish his sentence, “So don’t preach to me about life and death because if there's anyone left in this world who can empathize with you…” His last few words are swallowed in the emotion of his throat. “I am trying.”

They both cry now.

“Just because you have had it worse doesn’t mean what I am experiencing isn’t valid.” Zelda says in a quieter tone than before.

“I would never suggest that.” Link defends. “But you have got to communicate with me. My entire purpose in life is to make sure you are safe. And I cannot do that if I do not know. Everything has seemed normal, we’ve been farming and stargazing together. How was I supposed to know?”

“I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Of course I worry about you, Zelda.” He wants to tell her it's because he loves her, but he stifles the sentiment. Padding it instead with, “You’re my best friend.”

There it is again, she looks down, “Is that all I am to you?”

“What?”

“Just your best friend?”

“Zelda-“

“Best friends don’t look at each other the way we do.”

Their eyes meet again. They look at each other that same way. That look of longing. Their hearts begin to beat in sync. Link takes a single step to her.

“Zelda I- I can’t.”

“You can't do what? You can’t look at me as more than your princess? You can’t hope for more?”

“I can’t lose you again.” He says. “If we get any closer, it will make everything hurt more.”

“So let it hurt!” She gets worked up again. “We have nothing to lose at this point!” She fights with him, she fights for him, “Why can’t you love me the way I love you?” She asks.

They stare at each other. Silent again.

The tension builds, they feel it in their muscles.

Teary, green eyes find his crystal blue ones. Chests rise and fall, fists ball and loosen.

And then, like perfect clockwork they are stepping towards each other at the same instant and they are meeting in the middle, clashing together like two planets, grabbing onto one another hungrily, desperately as they kiss.

The first kiss is gentle. It’s soft and short. It’s sweeter than fruitcake and they pull away and look into one another's eyes. Link is sure his heart is going to burst out of his chest. They get dizzy, and pull into one another again.

Link’s hands cups her face, pulling her into him as much as he can. Their lips lock and pull apart and lock again. It’s full of desire and brokenness and a starvation for the other. Their breath gets heavy, their tongues meet. It’s a clash of need and thirst.

Their limbs tangle and he pulls one hand to the back of her head and the other hand moves to her hip. She wraps her arms around his shoulders. The kiss deepens and it’s like the entire world seems to stop spinning at that moment. They pant into one another’s mouths, Zelda bites his bottom lip, he groans quietly. He starts to push her backwards into the wall, and she hits it, gasping when she does. Link is putting his weight into her and it's sweaty and they both know they should stop but can’t. Both of them have been wanting this for as long as they can remember. The stars align, the window bursts open with a gust of wind, and they both pull away with tears in their eyes.

“Link I… I.”

“I’m sorry.” He steps back, “Shit, Zelda I’m so sorry.”

“What?” She asks and when she notices he’s walking away she’s pulling him back to her, hugging him tightly, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face into the crook of his neck. “Don’t you ever apologize for that.” She whispers. He sighs. “I was wondering when you were gonna do that.”

Link chuckles. “No more secrets, okay?” He mutters as he holds her by the waist. “It’s just you and me, okay?” Their foreheads meet.

“Okay.” She says.

“The fish is burning.”

They laugh.

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writing-yarn-goblin · 24 days

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You received this because you make somebody happy! Go on anon and send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. If you get one back, even better! 💕

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writing-yarn-goblin · 26 days

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>.>

<.<

*boop*

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writing-yarn-goblin · 28 days

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Please? I need a pick me up.

I am on my knees and waiting

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writing-yarn-goblin · 1 month

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"Good Boy"

Masterlist here

Word count: 3,200+

Synopsis: Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Themes: mutual pining, kid x gn!reader, fluffy, praise kink Kid, he just wants to be a good boy, no kisses just praise.

Notes: it's past 1am where I am, and I physically couldn't get to sleep until I got this request by @remisloves out of my mind. It's all about praise and softening rough characters lately with me. Good night everyone! Sweet blorbo dreams

Tag list: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine

A shudder erupted from the base of Eustass Kid's spine to the top of his cranium. Downturning his chin, he attempted to disguise how wide his smile had risen to his lips beneath the shadow of his blast goggles.

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Captain Kid pushed himself to the absolute limit to best his latest opponent. Blood dripping from his body, his bones bent to the point of nearly breaking. The weight of his metal arm overencumbered his body, his brute strength no longer enough to propel his legs forward.

Successful at last, he claimed their loot in their vast treasury, selecting a few key pieces that caught his eye to present back to you: a former thief, his ships’ appraiser, and now his curator of chronological dialogue, items and routines.

What would possess this hulking captain to risk his body and his crew to collect this small piece of art to present to you? Why would he ever risk such a heavy physical toll for a mere trinket?

Because he was a good boy.

And you always informed him as such.

While Kid saw no need for a chronicler initially, he very quickly warmed to the idea of maintaining one on his payroll. When Massacre Soldier Killer suggested a small snippet of their adventures be cataloged in journals, Kid never knew that reading the words back would prompt a rapid boil beneath his skin. A craving. A need.

Seeing those words scribed on paper held him hostage. Those doting, praising, uplifting words that held such passionate composition regarding his exploits; they pushed him to go further, drive harder, propell longer in his adventures. This was all in an attempt to dream of seeing more of those beautiful words describing him articulated upon paper.

Well, his exploits at least.

Most of all, he craved to hear them depart from your lips. You managed to slip a single verbalized expression of praise once upon his return from doing a menial task. Since then, he was hooked on the rush it brought him.

“Oh, wow! Captain, you've done so well! So unbelievably well!” was that first door opening to the praise he needed.

That small snippet from you, was all well and good in his opinion. He did enjoy your recognition of his talent, but it was not what he craved the most.

And what he wanted the most, was to be told he was, “a good boy.”

He couldn't explain it, but the thought of hearing those words flee from your lips had his eyelids half-hooded, eyes glazed, pupils blackened and blown, and a droopy smile lazily draw itself up onto his lips.

You had only ever come close one time to praising him personally, rather than the talent of his exploits. He felt the flutter of his heart rapidly igniting his veins with adrenaline, screaming with his eyes for you to utter the words he so desperately craved.

And you said it.

You finally said it today.

His feet thumped upon the wooden deck, after he hoisted himself over the small opening on the side of the ship. The ‘away team' had finally assembled together and began greeting those who remained behind.

Rushing to greet your Captain, he shot you a reciprocated, triumphant and winning smile, while happily presenting a small object up to you in the center of his right, flesh hand.

“You found it? You actually found it?” your eyes widened, reaching your hand out to Kid's extended right palm. His body was still dripping with the blood of his enemies, a visible shake in his fingertips as he elevated the trinket up to you.

“It nearly cost me my other arm,” he winced through the words, his forearm beginning to twitch beneath the strain of his exhaustion, “But I brought it back for you-...” he halted his words, pondering whether it was now time to make his affections known or not “...-to add to the collection.”

“For me?” your eyes widened, looking at the shiny and ornate gold filigree design. In the center of the flattened piece lay a single garnet: small, something one would cast aside should more items be presented. But to you, a prized piece in an antique collection you had been dedicating your life to find.

“It's the missing piece, yeah?” Kid smirked, huffing through his words as the rest of the crew assembled atop the Victoria Punk, “The one you told us about last Friday?”

“Honestly, Captain, I don't remember half of what happened last Friday,” you confessed sheepishly, up turning your brows as your fingers brushed against his palm, “You'd think my liver would be able to tolerate being aboard your ship, drinking that slosh alongside the crew by now.”

He barked a cracked cackle at your confession, prompting your own to rise in your chest. His laugh was contagious, a laugh that could be felt through his whole body springing and vibrating up within your own.

“Thank you, captain,” you expressed your deepest gratitude to the taller man, your head nodding in praise, “You don't know what this means to me.”

After a moment's pause, he looked down at the object before bringing his whisky-coloured eyes back up to meet with your own. He inhaled a shaken breath, baited and waiting within his lungs while anticipating his next words.

“S-So,” he stuttered over his words, scolding himself under his own anxiety, “Did I do good? Is this the one you needed? Am I a-...” he didn't want to lead you into giving him the praise he desperately sought, but didn't want to not hear it either.

With all the patience you could muster upon such a triumphant moment in your life, you prompted him with your eyes to have him complete his sentence.

“...Am I a good-...” trying so, so hard to say the final word, he physically couldn't have them pass his lips, “...-Captain?” He mentally slapped himself, knowing that those were not the words he craved and how stupid that must've made him sound.

You took a moment to carefully think about your next words, noticing how bruised he was, how bloody his knuckles were, how a lot of the crew that went with him on this private ‘away mission' were faring upon return.

“Of course you are. You captain us extremely well, sir,” you uttered with a soft smile, “I'll adjust my findings accordingly in the journals, if I may be excused?”

A small puff of air flew from his lips, defeat almost tangibly thick as it shrouded his shoulders with its presence. He looked away after giving his nod of dismissal, his gaze fixed on the wood of the deck below his feet.

Your smile widened, claiming the object from his palm and holding your hand within his for a moment longer, before withdrawing completely. Fluttering your eyes over each fixed point of concern on his features, you searched for what his body seemed to be screaming for.

Thanking him with a curt nod, you turned on your heel and abruptly halted your next step.

At this moment, it fully dawned on you exactly the words your Captain wanted to hear. Eustass Kid, captain of the Kid pirates, champion and leader of the Victoria punk, devil-fruit user and wielder of Haki… had a praise kink. And he wanted you to praise him.

A playful smile spread like warm honey up your cheeks, a scrunch in your nose as you rolled your next words over your tongue. You turned your head over your shoulder, guarding your intentions close to your chest as you spoke two words that almost had your Captain fall on his knees in gratitude.

“Good boy.”

From that moment on, he was simply smitten. No matter what he did, whether it was aiding his crew with carrying supplies, carrying out great acts of violence, defending his Nakama from their enemies, or simply finishing his vegetables at meal time - he would look to you in anticipation, that anticipation being met with those two simple words.

“Good boy.”

They echoed within his mind, swirling around within the chasms of his brain as slumber eluded him. He did not mind in the slightest having his lack of rest consumed with praises departing from your lips.

Your voice plagued him, haunted him as a spectral ghost would hunt down their unfinished business. He did not mind such a haunting, in fact: he wanted more. He wanted to have more praise, more compliments, more of your verbal, beautiful words crying out from your perfect lips.

He was smitten, completely smitten, by your compliments. The way your talented tongue made his name sound, the way your lips curved up in a knowing smirk each time you told him he was a ‘good boy.’

Until the day you didn't.

Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, one that nobody knew the cause nor the cure for such a horrid, stampeding mess of a captain. Food, ales, meads, even gold - nothing appeared to pry him from his raging temper. Breaking tankards, tipping over tables, scattering documents on his captains’ desk, nothing was safe from the wrath he was wreaking on the furniture.

Hunched over your desk, you continued cataloging and appraising the latest haul of trinkets and treasures thrust into your office. It was overwhelming for you, the sheer number of items scattered around your room. You attempted to alphabetize them, sort them accordingly and lump them into itemized piles.

The toll the elevation of work raised onto your shoulders had you dismiss all those who presented you with various finds, including your Captain. He rocked on the ball and heels of his feet, eagerly awaiting and anticipating his sought-after praise - but found nothing but an anxious sigh and scratch of your neck in response to his hard labor.

This was the reason for his intense rage.

After leaving your office, and selfishly paying no mind to your exhausted expression, he began to spiral.

“He was so good. Why didn't you tell him he was? Was there something he could've done better? Something he could've pushed harder to strive for?” all circled within his mind as he tore piece after piece of his office apart.

Several hours had passed, and you carved a hefty chunk of your work apart and managed to get a fair bit done. It was nowhere near complete, but it had you feeling a sense of anxious accomplishment.

A knock at the door prompted you to raise your chin, eyes panicked and overwhelmed with the amount of work still required to be completed before mealtime.

“Need help?” The light flickered off the cerulean and pearl colored mask of the first mate, who peeked his head around the doorframe.

“Please,” you sighed, gesturing to your position kneeling on the ground beside you. Killer promptly entered your office, crouching beside you and sifting through the uncharted treasures still needing to be sorted.

“What we up to?” he elevated his hand, gesturing out to the various piles in front of you both, “I think I see where they need to go. You written down them all?”

“All recorded in the book, down to the last drooped earpiece,” you confirmed, nodding to the mess in the center of the room, “They just need to be put in the right piles, locked in the treasury, and then we can call it a night. Maybe have an ale, if you're up for it, Kil?”

After a moment's pause, both of you rolling the items in your fingertips and placing them within the according: gold, silver, platinum, gemstone, raw material, ceramic, wearable materials, and weaponry piles.

“Leave this with me,” Killer uttered, placing a throwing knife within the weaponry stack, “And you go and perform your other job.”

“What other job?” your brows knit with confusion, “I've already done the journalling of the exploits, the timetabling of the crew shift-changes, notarizing the stock we need within the kitchen-.”

“-Oh, no, buckaroo,” you could audibly hear the smirk behind Killer's mask as he teased you, “the other one. The one nobody pays you to do.”

“Which is, champ?” you taunted in return, nudging him with your shoulder roughly against his, “Be specific.”

“The one where you-...” he took this brief pause as an opportunity to sign in huffed frustration, “...-where you tell our captain he's a good boy. Although, in his current state,” Killer rotated his neck to relieve the tension on his shoulders, “I might even go so far as to suggest you call him a bad one, considering that's exactly how he's behaving.”

Your confusion knit your brow down in the center of your face, your mind focussing on when the last time you praised the puppy you had turned your Captain into.

“Oh, fuck! I didn't praise him when he brought in the loot!” your eyes widened in shock, promptly rising to your feet and brushing over your pants, “I just got so overwhelmed by the sheer bloody number, I couldn't think of anything else. Oh, I'm an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot,” Killer interrupted you, rising to his own feet and cupping your shoulders in an attempt to halt the rise in your anxiety, “Hell, you're not even dating him. It shouldn't be your job-,” he brushed over your shirt, adjusting the crumpled material to make it more appealing to the eye.

“-Yet here you are,” he concluded, nodding at you before glancing down at the piles of treasure, “And here I am: the first-mate, the best friend, the confidant. The one who is unable to tear him away from his absolutely shit-house mood, because all he wants is you.”

You attempted to stifle the warm flush that drew itself up to your cheeks. Captain Kid was a tall, broad and intimidating man - those were the three assessments you initially made when you were hired to serve aboard the Victoria Punk. Then you got to know him, and were made privy to truly see who he was beneath the surface.

The twinkle behind the feral rage, the purity in his unbridled emotions, the lack of restraint in all his advances: you adored him. When he began to seek out your praises, you were immediately swooning at his attention.

He wanted your words, not just due to the fact words were your job, but because he wanted you to speak them. Just to speak his praises to be granted the luxury of a light tingle in his ears, a blush rise to his cheeks and a smile decorating his lips with such beautiful words.

Now within the doorframe of your captain's office, you arched your brow and crossed your arms. Leaning on the wooden panel, you continued to watch his chest rise and fall with each exasperated and berzerk breath. Your eyes never left his body, each arch of his back and ripple of his muscles straining under the taut fabrics atop his shoulders.

“All this because I didn't call you a good boy?” you addressed him in a low and dangerous tone. His feral eyes snapped over to you, widening as he truly witnessed the devastation in the destruction in his office.

“You've been a bad boy, I see,” you continued in your dark tone, promptly stepping into his office and closing the door behind you, “Look at all this mess. Tsk, naughty.”

The click of your tongue had Kid arching his back, straightening his spine as he bit back a soft whimper. His brows triangulated in the center of his face, bottom lip now quivering under the weight of your disciplinary tone.

Circling his body, fingers brushing against his large right hand beside his hip as you leaned into him. You shook your head, stooping down and beginning to collect the paper, stationary, tankards, and paperweights that had been flung against the floor.

Before you could say a following, disciplinary word, Kid immediately fell onto his knees and began hurriedly picking up the items he threw onto the ground beside you.

“I-I’ll pick it all up,” he nodded his head as to confirm his words further, “I'll tidy up all this shit. Please, I-I’m sorry. I just-.”

“-Just wanted to be praised, hm?” you hummed at him. He hid his head from view, his painted lips pouting while his eyes held their attention firmly against the mess.

He nodded, the weight of finally admitting his craving lifting off his chest and shoulders as he received the items you were holding atop the stack he was forming.

“Tidy up your mess, handsome,” you smiled, elevating your right hand to capture his pointed chin within your thumb and index finger, “I'll watch every step you take, and let you know how good you're being, if you do it properly.”

Kid’s breath caught in his lungs, a pink dust settled against his cheeks and ears. He hurriedly rose to his feet, up-turning his askew desk and dusting off his captains’ chair. He extended it outwards, wordlessly and politely gesturing for you to take a seat.

“My, my,” you commented, rising to your feet and accepting his invitation, “Such a gentleman, you're being. But, you've gotta’ work a little bit harder to earn that title you crave.”

Captain Eustass Kid was a dutiful, whimpering puppy under your watchful eyes. He was, almost, happily rearranging all of the objects he had thrown askew. He even took the time to appropriately categorize the pages he didn't complete prior to his little tantrum.

“Hm, very good. Well done picking up after yourself.” He blushed further at your words, but craved so much more.

“Oh, look at how much time you're taking on that bookshelf. I can even see how clean you're making each of the panels. Look at you go, big boy.” That praise had him whimpering, his eyes fluttering shut as he continued to clean in silence.

“So strong, picking up that heavy weight all by yourself. So proud of you.” He could not stop the audible gasp, nor the rush of blood seeping to places they had no business in flooding to at that moment.

He completed all this while glancing over his shoulder and thriving beneath the giddy feeling rushing to his chest upon being the center of your unwavering gaze.

Upon the last paperweight being placed and straightened atop his desk, he knelt between your knees and glanced up into your eyes. He looked innocent of all wrongdoing, all prior anger and malice fleeing from within his silent pleading.

He was desperate for those words, those two simple little words that he so yearned for. Noseying up further between your knees, his shuddering metal and flesh hands cautiously placed themselves gently on your calves.

Soft and slow circles were traced against your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as they began twinkling with hope. All his mind was screaming, silently and internally, was a simple repetition of: “Please, please, please. Say it, say it, say it.”

And you obliged him by leaning down, caressing his left, scarred cheek and drawing your lips close enough to taste the tingle of his breath upon your skin. Hovering before contact was made, you floated your gaze between his whisky-hued orbs and his parted lips with a soft smile.

“Good boy.”

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writing-yarn-goblin · 1 month

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writing-yarn-goblin · 1 month

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GUESS WHAT, B*TCHES!

I’m baaaaaack!~

It’s March and I post whatever I fuckin’ want! Oh yeah, it’s a songfic!

Character: Sir Crocodile (a little bit of Katakuri Charlotte, but just a smidge)

Relationship: slight KatakurixXReader but also catching Sir Crocodile’s eye (and more)

Song: Sweet by Unlike Pluto

Warnings: forced marriage, drug mention, alcohol, Crocodile being himself

~*~

“Introducing for one night only! The beauty that pounds whiskey like a sailor and sings like an angel: (Y/N) (L/N)!”

You heard the crowd go wild.

The sigh that escaped your lips as you took a long drag of the almond-vanilla flavored cigar that was currently in between your gloved hands as you made your way to the stage.

The sway of your hips, the tight knee-high black dress with a sweetheart collar hugging your curves lusciously as your hair was kept messy, framing your face and to finish the look- a pair of Mary Jane kitten heel shoes.

Your lips were dark red but the rest of the make up was simple.

A little powder, cat-eye liner and blush.

A wink could decimate nations, said your fiancé once.

The lights on the stage were on you as the white fur coat you were wearing slid from your shoulders to your elbows as you gently gripped the microphone’s stand as your lips opened to do their thing.

“My baby and I like new silky sheets every night.

He buys me bourb' and whiskey neat,

And keeps on comin' every week…”

Your stare could only focus on the table were your lug of a fiancé was.

Charlotte Katakuri.

He seemed bored with his surroundings. Not really his scene but he had to keep up appearances as head of this town’s sweets factory. His mother made sure to pop out enough children to make an infuriatingly huge monopoly of different businesses just so she could have absolute control of most markets.

“Ooh, he wants the suburbs

When school's out for summer

And we live by his mother

I keep my drugs in the cupboard 'cause”

You could only look at him with a little spite.

“I'm only sweet when I'm high…”

You noticed that the normally serious face he wore suddenly made a move, his lips twitched downwards as he downed his LIT, completely in one gulp.

This finally got him.

He looked down at his drink as you kept singing your song, almost like if he was contemplating how guilty he felt to just have picked you from a line of potential wives his mother gave him and he just picked you.

Little, wild you.

You, whom he thought would be gracious enough to accept a marriage proposal out of the goodness of your heart.

‘What a shame’ he thought. ‘I thought this recent flight of fancy would keep her calm’ he argued with his head.

He didn’t noticed that he wasn’t the only one staring at the beauty with a savvy mouth.

He wasn’t the only magnate in this town.

“In class, I learned to lie

To pretty boys, to pass the time…”

She stared at him as she sang this particular verse.

How many times has she lied to him just to get him off her back?

How many times did she pretend to be okay in front of him?

How many times did her whispered words meant what they preached while he was in the passionate throes of sex?

He had it.

He stood up from his table and grabbed his coat, leaving on the table a shiny object with a scarp of paper that said “goodbye”.

He didn’t notice on his way out the door of the glare that was directed to him from the bar. Cigar smoke filtering out as he heard the man at the bar to bring the lady’s belongings to him, that he’d take care of her moving forward.

“'Cause I got that good shit, Alabastian pride.

Kiss the kids goodnight and take the Harley for a ride”

The man at the bar just grinned.

That seemed like Little Miss Sailor was in the market again.

Not that he had to do much.

She did it all her self in an act of defiance towards the softest yet most ruthless of the Charlotte’s. And she didn’t even get to the good part of this song.

The man at the bar was a tall man. Not as tall as Katakuri but still very tall. He had suffered the loss of a hand but that didn’t hinder him at all, he had prosthetics to make up for the loss of a limb, he just preferred the gold hook on his missing limb.

He saw how the lonely woman stared at the table bitterly, almost relieved that she didn’t have to talk to what he could firmly say was her boyfriend.

“Ooh, I get so bored, scrub the floors

Then get drunk while doing chores

Does he even know me…?”

He had enough of waiting.

“Waitress? I want that table.”

A woman like that deserved to be looked upon closely.

“Ooh, I'm never sure when he'll be home

Get into trouble on my own

I don't get lonely…”

You were still singing your little heart out as you batted your eyes to shake some of the tears. Katakuri wasn’t a bad man, but you would’ve rather to pick your own groom and wed because you wanted to.

Not because your own family wanted to have financial relief in these trying times.

Such was the life of the eldest daughter.

But no matter, you could firmly say that your groom-to-be was no longer in the horizon as he left with a disappointed frown.

“I’m only sweet when I’m high…”

You spoke the last verse, only to have the whole club erupt in howls and cheers.

With a bashful smile, you made your way behind the stage and down to the main floor.

You felt a little taken back when your things were on your usual table, but relieved when one of the waitresses directed you to your new table.

In the VIP section.

With your things.

You looked at how this dashing mystery man was taking a drag from his cigar and seemed to be pouring two glasses of champagne.

You had to be careful, however. This day and age, most men can and will do anything. But this man just massive and intimidating. The scar upon his face should’ve scared you but, you were used to men with…interesting features.

“Take a seat. We have a few things to converse about, Little desert flower.”

…to be continued?

#one piece #reader insert #x reader #i am unwell #fem reader #one piece fanfiction #songfic #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile #crocodile x you

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