If the only thing that has kept you going was outliving Mitch McConnell, imma need yall to pick a new person to outlive and fast. Your mission is not over.
In fact, being suddenly backhanded into a brand new world knowing chicken shit about that world was bullshittttt. And made you look stupid as shit.
Nobody tells you about the paperwork of dying. Or the not-dying, technically, since apparently getting flattened by a delivery truck was less an ending and more a transfer notice filed by some cosmic bureaucrat who could not be bothered to include an orientation packet. One second there was asphalt and the smell of hot brakes, and the next there was grass under your cheek and a sky the wrong shade of blue, too purple at the edges, like a bruise that had opinions.
You lay there for a while doing the math. The math did not come out in your favor.
See, you had read enough of these stories to know the deal. You get sent somewhere new and the universe pays you a signing bonus. A cheat skill. A status screen. A helpful floating menu that explains the local currency and warns you which mushrooms turn your insides to soup. Some overpowered nonsense that makes the transition worth the whiplash of being backhanded out of your entire life without so much as a warning label.
You got nothing. You got grass and a bruise-colored sky and knees that ached when you finally hauled yourself upright.
"Okay," you said out loud, to no one, which was the first mistake because saying it out loud made it real. "Okay. New world. Cool. Great. Love that for me."
There was a village down the slope. You could see the smoke curling up from it, thatched roofs, the whole medieval starter-pack aesthetic, and every single instinct you had built up from a lifetime of these exact stories told you to march down there and be the mysterious knowledgeable stranger. The one who knew things. The one who could win the war, cure the plague, invent soap, whatever the plot demanded.
Except you did not know a single thing about this place. Not the name of it. Not who ran it. Not whether the smoke down there meant a cozy hearth fire or a raiding party currently setting the cozy hearth fires. You knew chicken shit about this world, and being isekaied had not fixed that, had not downloaded a helpful encyclopedia into your skull, had not made you special in any measurable way. It had just relocated your ignorance to a more inconvenient address.
So you did the thing. You walked down there anyway, because standing on a hill starving to death seemed like a worse plan. You opened your mouth to say something wise and stranger-from-afar-ish to the first person you saw, a woman hauling a bucket, and what came out instead was a question about where you were.
She looked at you the way you look at a man who has clearly been kicked in the head by a horse.
"You don't know where you are," she repeated, flat.
"Correct," you said, with all the dignity of someone who had just admitted, in a strange new land, holding no skill and no map and no clue, that the great gift of a second life had arrived with absolutely nothing in the box. "That is the situation. Yes."
The bucket handle creaked. Somewhere behind her a chicken screamed for reasons of its own. And you stood there in your weird ass clothes, looking, you are fairly sure, stupid as shit.
"Foosha," the woman said skeptically. "Hopefully you remember it when you're not drunk."
You weren't, and wouldn't, but seeing how she wasn't a mythical start screen, or even nice, you continued on into the mysterious Foosha Village. And recalled nothing specific despite there being something familiar about it.
It rattled around in your skull looking for a hook to catch on and found only smooth walls, because whatever library of useful knowledge the universe was supposed to have installed had apparently been left in a box on some cosmic loading dock, unopened, gathering dust next to your cheat skill and your status screen and every other thing you had been promised by two decades of reading stories exactly like this one.
Foosha.
Nothing came.
The village itself was almost aggressively pleasant, which somehow made it worse. There was a windmill turning lazy circles against that bruise-colored sky. There were little houses with round windows and flower boxes, the kind of place that looked like it had been designed to be missed after something terrible happened to it. Chickens, your only familiar friends, pecked at the dirt road. A woman was hanging laundry on a line. Somewhere a dog barked twice and then apparently lost interest in the whole endeavor.
You walked down the middle of the road because there was no traffic to walk anywhere else, and you kept waiting to feel like the protagonist. In the stories, the hero always knew. They arrived and the world arranged itself meaningfully around them, quests lighting up like they had little markers floating overhead, important people turning to look. Here, nobody turned. The laundry woman gave you exactly one glance, clocked you as not-a-threat and not-interesting, and went back to her wet sheets. A child ran past you chasing a hoop and did not so much as break stride.
You were, you were beginning to understand, a nobody in a town you could not place, in a world that had handed you no map, and the only person who had spoken to you so far clearly thought you had been recently kicked by livestock.
There was a building up ahead with a sign creaking over the door. A bar, maybe, or an inn, the kind of establishment where a stranger in a story always went to overhear the crucial rumor that kicked the plot into gear. You steered toward it, mostly because your feet needed a destination and mostly because if this world was going to insist on giving you nothing, the least it could do was give it to you sitting down.
You may have wandered forever looking for a fucking hint, but it was at that moment a small child burst from the doors of the establishment, and consequently, straight into you.
And he hit you not with the weight of a child but like a goddamn cannonball.
The air left you in one flat wheeze. There was a stagger, an undignified backward hop, a moment where your arms windmilled like you were trying to fly and had suddenly forgotten the mechanism, and then your ass met the dirt road with a thud that rearranged something in your lower spine. The chickens scattered. Somewhere the dog resumed barking, invested again now that there was drama worth its attention.
The kid did not fall but bounced off you like you were the soft thing in the equation, which you apparently were, and landed on his feet with the easy balance of someone whose bones were clearly made of a lighter material than yours. He was small. That was the part your brain kept snagging on as you sat there in the road with your dignity scattered among the poultry. He was small, gap-toothed, grinning, with a thatch of black hair. But he had flattened you like a pro wrestler.
"Sorry!" he said, not sounding remotely sorry, already looking past you to whatever had been chasing him or whatever he had been chasing. Then his eyes came back and settled on you properly, and something lit up in them, bright and unbothered and a little unnerving in its total lack of concern for the person he had just flattened.
"Whoa. Are you new? I've never seen you before." He leaned in, hands on his knees, inspecting you the way you might inspect an interesting bug. "You're sitting in the road."
"I'm aware," you said flatly.
"Why are you sitting in the road?"
"You," you said, "put me here."
He considered this. He seemed to find it fair. "Oh. Yeah." The grin came back, wider, and he stuck out a hand to haul you up, and God help you, there was that snag in your brain again, that maddening flicker of a hook finally finding purchase on something, a straw hat and a laugh and a name you almost had, almost, right there at the edge of knowing.
It slipped away before you could catch it.
You took the hand. He pulled you up like you weighed nothing at all.
"Thanks, kid." At least your near second death came with manners, you supposed, stretching your arm out to see if the shoulder still worked. It did, more or less. It filed a formal complaint, but it worked.
"Luffy," said the kid.
Your neck nearly broke turning back to him. You blinked, mouth a bit ajar.
"What?"
"That's my name." He said it patiently, the way you explain a simple thing to someone who has been kicked in the head by a horse, which, you were beginning to notice, was becoming a recurring assumption about you in this village. "Monkey D. Luffy. You said thanks kid but I'm not kid, I'm Luffy." He tilted his head. "What's yours?"
You told him. The name came out of your mouth and sounded wrong in the air here, too many syllables from a world that did not exist anymore. He repeated it back with the vowels slightly mangled and immediately seemed to decide it was acceptable.
But you were not really listening, because your brain had finally, finally caught the hook it had been fumbling for since the woman said Foosha.
It all landed at once. The pieces came down in a heap and assembled themselves into a picture you did not want to be looking at, because if that picture was correct, then you knew exactly what this world was, and holy fuck, no way.
You knew chicken shit about most things. You had established that. No map, no skill, no encyclopedia.
But you knew this. Oh, you knew of him.
"You okay?" Luffy asked, because you had gone very still and very sweaty and were staring at him like the sky had opened up behind his head. "You look kinda weird."
"Luffy," you said carefully, testing it, hoping to be wrong. "Do you, uh. Do you want to be a pirate when you grow up?"
His whole face split open. It was the most certain expression you had ever seen on a human being, more certain than most people managed about anything in their entire lives, and he threw both arms up over his head like the answer was too big to keep contained in his small ordnance body.
"I'm gonna be King of the Pirates! How’d you know?!”
Oh, you thought, sitting back down in the road entirely of your own accord this time. Oh, no.
This is almost surely a stupid!reader x Beckman fic imao
I just love how Supergirl isn't really about the revenge or the dog or anything that goes on at all. Its about two grieving girls trying to keep going in diffrent ways and teaching each other how to survive with the weight of it all while also inspiring each other to be better people. Its about not letting your past overtake your future. Its about prioritizing yourself instead of being fuled by your trauma. Its about being good no matter what.
Just watched supergirl and oh my god i am so obssed with the fact that we have a female main character and shes sloppy and snippy and rude and an alcoholic and messy and flawed. And yet shes still able to be kind and good and be an inspiration to people. All while not having a romance and while not trying to appeal to anyone. This is what everything should be.
i really really loved how the supergirl 2026 movie subverted the 'if you kill them ur no better then them' trope, i loved that the conflict was not that he doesnt deserve to die but rather that ruthye deserves to not have to kill him, that she is just a child and should not have to carry that burden along with everything she had already been through. i really loved how kara killing him recontextulizes her actions leading up to that moment, how it becomes clear that it was never her intention to let him live, but to keep ruthye safely away from the fight.
ive always disliked the anti revenge narrative because sometime people do just do things that are unforgivable and wont be stopped by the current system, but here kara never said ruthye should forgive him, but rather that ruthye deserved to live on and it is made far more impactfull by the fact that it is in the same fight where kara accepts the suit and truly becomes supergirl. superman is the shield, supergirl is the sword, supergirl fights so girls like ruthye dont have to.
I feel like Reader would have a difficult time resting when they are sick, maybe even still trying to manage the house when they should really be taking it easy.
Had a thought where Reader hide their sickness from Orufrey for a couple days, which left them exhausted and on bedrest, so now Qifrey and Olruggio are taking turns caring for their lover and teaching/feeding their girls.
All three of the adults can be stubborn in their own ways
of course this ended up being longer than intended, but I liked the idea a lot. so here ya go! thank you for waiting i know this request has been sitting in the inbox for awhile 😅
Stubborn Sickness
Summary: you overwork yourself and suffer the consequences.
pairing: orufrey/fem!reader
genre: fluff, domestic fluff
word count: 2000+
rating: g
You sniff as you bring a handkerchief to your cheeks, dabbing the cloth gently against your clammy face. You know you're flushed but you hope the hot skillet in your hands hides that fact. It’s Saturday, a very busy day in the atelier. For you, anyways. It’s the one day of the week where everyone was home, and everyone who spent their week on assignments and commissions finally got a break. You should be taking one too, honestly.
You’d be feeling unwell since the middle of the week. It first started as an annoying headache, and then a few sneezes before morphing into muscle aches and the occasional chill. You ignored it though, drawing tea and tonics to help stave off the inevitable. You just had so much work to get done. The boys were always busy and the girls needed time to study. The last thing any of them should be doing is chores and tedious house work when their schedules are already so packed. That's what you were here for, to help supplement where they needed.
You sway as you pull the skillet from the stove, carefully plating the afternoon meal. You still needed to sweep and pull the clothes from the line.
“Do yuh need help?” Olruggio asks. Both men and the girls are already seated, talking amongst one another. His comment goes unheard by them.
“Please,” you say, your voice somewhat raspy. You clear your throat. He’s beside you before you finish plating and reaches for your hands. They tremble, it’s barely noticeable but Olruggio picks up on it immediately.
“What’s wrong?” He asks. He tries to catch your eyes but you shake your head and smile, turning back to the counter and rubbing your hands along your spring. “Nothing, just a little tired.” You say. You can tell Olruggio doesn’t believe you but he says nothing as he moves to hand the meals out.
Lunch is sluggish and the wonderful food you’ve prepared is less and less appealing as you take more bites.
“My love,” you look up when Qifrey calls out to you, you’ve been moving the vegetables around on your plate for the last few minutes, “are you feeling alright?”
You straighten, eyes stinging when you stretch a sore muscle in your back, and nod, “mhm, just not hungry.” You say. The nausea is a new development.
You don’t clear your plate but no one makes a comment on that. Olruggio takes up the dishes, and the girls scurry off to the front room to play. You’re stacking placemats when Qifrey’s gentle hand falls on yours. “Maybe you should rest?” He suggests. His eyes are full of concern, his lips pursed as he tries to persuade you to take a break.
“I’ve got the clothes line to clear, then I will rest. I promise.” It will only take a few minutes to finish, it was a simple task. You pull away, not quickly or with harshness, and leave Qifrey standing at the table. You press your lips to Olruggio’s cheek, thanking him. You leave faster than intended and you don’t notice both men watching you carefully as you step out the door, laundry basket in hand.
“She has been acting strange…” Qifrey muses as he joins Olruggio at the counter. He leans his hip against it as Olruggio returns to his cleaning.
Olruggio grumbles, “she’s not telling us the truth.”
“Hm, we haven’t asked her to do too much have we?”
Olruggio snorts, “Her? Doing too much work because we told her too? You know we’d never let her lift a finger if she’d allow it. Stubborn woman thinks she needs to do extra things to be useful.”
Qifrey chuckles, “we would not have married her, I think, if we didn’t find that stubbornness charming.”
Olruggio’s lip twists upward, “I suppose.”
Qifrey leans over and plants a delicate kiss to the dark haired man’s cheek. “I’ll be in the garden, herbs need to be pulled.”
“Don’t stay out there too long, it’s hot.”
“Yes yes,” Qifrey says.
“And keep an eye on her! She’ll pass out before she admits she doesn’t feel well.”
It’s hotter than you’d care to admit but you’re nearly done with your chores. You tug the last sheet from the line and catch your first husband’s eye across the yard. He’s bent over the small garden patch that is planted every year. You admire him from afar and how he carefully works each plant to pull the crop for harvest. When he moves to place a bountiful bundle of lavender in the open basket next to him his eye catches yours. You smile sweetly, and he smiles back. You bend down and collect your basket. You’ll have to fold these inside, the sweat on your brow trickles down your temple and the sun’s rays suddenly pierce your skin. You’re itchy.
When you straighten you stumble, catching yourself right as you tilt. You hear Qifrey call to you and you quickly reassure him, “I’m okay! I just tripped.” Your head is swimming.
You just need to get these folded and you’ll go lay down. The thought of your bed fills you with bliss.
You shoulder through the front door, steps heavy. Your lower back is tight and the tension at your temple doesn’t leave despite the burst of cool air that rushes over you.
“Look!” you look down at Coco who’s beaming up at you with an open palm quire right in your face. You have no idea what the spell says, your vision is blurry.
“I finally figured it out!” She said proudly. Agott is standing behind her muttering something about uneven lines and Tetia is claiming her place as Coco’s tutor. It’s all very sweet but if they talk any louder you worry your head will explode. Olruggio sits quietly on the couch, book in hand, but he’s focused on you and your movements.
The world suddenly turns to liquid and you can’t make out any of the shapes or sounds around you. You squeeze your eyes shut and prop your basket against your hip as you press your fingers to your temple. You shudder at the sharp pain that shoots past your eyes and down your neck. It’s suddenly hard to breathe.
“Oi! Hey!” The girls scramble away from you, Olruggio’s cry of concern drowned by the ringing in your ears. You sway, collapsing into the side wall when a loud, thunk, wall art and portraits rattle and ceiling charms sway at the sudden vibration. The rug under you slips as you try to straighten, the basket crashes to the ground, sheets spilling across the floor in hazardous waves.
Everything is blurry and you're suddenly spinning in place. You groan and dig the heel of your palm into your eye, trying to chase away the sudden ache that the light has created. An arm, that is not your own, wraps around your hip and steadies you. You recognize Olruggio by his smell and heat and immediately lean into him. He uses his other hand to pry yours from your face. You whimper at the intrusion. “You idiot, Ah asked you earlier if—Qifrey!” The windows to the atelier are wide open. You cry out at his pitch, the yell stabbing you just behind the ears.
It doesn’t take long for your other lover to come barreling through the door, his steps are quick, and you're immediately surrounded by another wall of comfort. He smells like thyme now. “What happened?” he asks. When he sees you flinch he lowers his voice, his finger tips brush lightly against your cheek. His brow furrows as he looks up at Olruggio.
“I told ya she was lying to us.”
Qifrey sighs and turns swiftly to the children. “To the side girls, please.” They still look anxious so he adds carefully, “She is okay, I promise. Just very tired, she’s done a lot of work today. Too much, I would say, and didn’t take any rest. ”
“Like when Coco was sick?” Tetia asks.
Qifrey smiles reassuringly, “Yes, exactly like that.”
The comparison seems to sooth their fear and they soon flit away to do other things. Qifrey is grateful.
You curl further into Olruggio, who dips low to gather you in his arms. He lifts you with ease, cradling you under leg and back as you burrow into him.
“She’s burnin’ up,” He mutters as he follows Qifrey to your shared bedroom. When you enter, Olruggio gently deposits you on the bed, while Qifrey moves to the wardrobe, pulling out a thin night gown.
You groan when Olruggio sits you up, “Arms up,” he says. You lift them weakly, wincing as your muscles strain. He shimmies your shirt above your head before methodically untying the rope of your skirt and pulling it free from your hips. You shiver as the air meets your skin, suddenly hot and cold all at once. Qifrey approaches with your change of clothes and slides it over your form swiftly. There is no lingering in their moments, no ogling or suggestiveness.
Qifrey leans you back and settles you against the sheets. You remember little of what follows, just the lights dimming and their soft muttering as you fall to sleep.
Qifrey sighs as he watches you drift off. There is a soft knock at the door and both men turn to see Coco standing there holding a tray topped with a glass of water and a damp cloth. Qifrey invites her in with a smile, “thank you, Coco.”
“W-will she be okay?” Qifrey plucks the tray from her hands and slides it onto the bedside table. He then cups her cheek affectionately, “she will be okay. I promise. She just needs rest.” She nods and trails out, one last backwards glance to make sure you were still in bed before letting the door click shut behind her.
Olruggio sighs when you restlessly shift. “First time she’s done this.” He mutters as Qifrey moves to press the cool cloth to your cheeks. You subconsciously lean into it.
Olruggio reaches beneath the bed, grunting as he pulls a small wooden chest out. He plops it on the small round spare table in the corner of the room and begins sifting through medicine provided by the Healing Spire. They kept it on hand for emergencies. So many kids typically came with unpredictable ailments. They needed to be prepared.
“Our stubborn girl.” Qifrey says, bemused. He’s already preparing his lecture for when you wake up.
You wake for the first time in the middle of the 2nd night, throat parched and headache only a dull throb now. You groan softly, and the sound of shuffling parchment and the scratch of an ink pen stop. You crack your eyes open, blinking them into focus.
You remember things in grasps. Falling into the wall, dropping your basket. You don’t remember falling asleep but you recall waking periodically. Qifrey leaves to work on a lesson with the girls and returns with food, replacing Olruggio as he exits to go aid a client. It’s cyclic. One stays to care for you. Feeds you something akin to soup, soothes your brow and walks you back and forth from the rest room, while the other goes to work. Each time you're just awake enough to acknowledge that it’s them before you melt into their care.
The canopy is dropped around you save for your right side. You’re at the edge of the bed, when you typically sleep in the middle, and based on the weight to your left only one of your boys is in bed with you. Your head turns toward that weight, and you blink slowly as Qifrey observes you. His knees are up, supporting a small pile of papers that you only assumed were the girl's assignments. He has a cup of tea in one hand and his marking pen in the other. “Hello, darling,” he says gently. You blink, slow and disoriented for a moment before humming in acknowledgment.
“Hi…” you croak.
“Hey,” you slowly turn your head to the right when Olruggio calls to you. There are only two candles lit, one hovering over Qifrey and the other planted on Olruggio’s rolling work station that sits at his side. A few unfinished contraptions resting atop top of it. How long have they been sitting here?
“Water,” you whisper. Olruggio reaches for the glass and you whimper as you try and sit up. You feel a bit better but you’re sore. Qifrey rests his work on the bed before twisting to help you, Olruggio stands and holds the glass up to your lips. “Drink,” he says. You do. The water immediately calms the raw scratchy feeling and you sigh in content.
When you pull away the glass is empty and he sets it beside a pitcher you assume is full of more. Qifrey is pressing a handkerchief against your skin.
“How long have I been asleep?” you ask.
“Since yesterday,” Qifrey says as Olruggio sits on the bed. The dark haired man places his hand on your thigh, squeezing gently.
“What time is it now?” Your voice cracks and Olruggio is already filling you with another glass, guiding it to your lips for a deep drink. He answers as you finish it, “a little after midnight.”
“I’ve been asleep for over 20 hours?” Olruggio hums, “ more or less. We woke you up to eat and bathe. I’m surprised you didn’t sleep longer.”
“Bathe?” You don’t remember that.
Qifrey chuckles, “your fever broke and you were drenched. You gave us a bit of a fight, but we managed.”
“Fell asleep during that too,” Olruggio says. You’re sure the sight was amusing, the two of them awkwardly keeping you from drowning during a fever riddled nap.
“Why did you not tell us you were feeling unwell?” Qifrey interrupts. You look at him sheepishly.
“I just…wanted to get things done, is all.” You really did but clearly your stubbornness was defeated by a fever and a pile of laundry. Ugh, you’d probably have to wash those sheets again.
“You didn’t need to get shit done,” Olruggio says, “we would’ve done it.” You can’t argue, because you know it’s true. All you had to do was say, ‘I don’t feel well,’ and the two of them would have dropped everything to help.
“Never do that again, please.” Qifrey pleads, his hand finding yours. He brings it to his lips and presses them gently to the back of it. “We were all very worried.”
“The girls?”
“Perfectly fine,” Olruggio says, “they’ll be happy to know you’re feeling better.”
“I will see them in the morning,” you decide. Olruggio looks at you as if you have grown two heads and scoffs. “You’re not leaving this bed.” You blink.
“You think we’re going tah let you walk around the house after all this? No, you need more rest.” You look at Qifrey for some back up but his gaze mimics Olruggio’s. Darn, you’re stuck here until they deemed you healthy enough to move.
“We’ll bring them to you,” Qifrey bargains, “but I agree. I do not think it wise for you to roam about just yet. Another day, okay? Let us take care of everything.”
You weren’t pouting (you most certainly were), “...fine.”
Qifrey gestures to a small green vial and Olruggio picks it up. You smell the bitter scent of bark and leaves and know it’s for your pain. He holds it out to you, “Come on, one more dose. You’ve been taking it just fine so far.” That explains why your tongue tastes like dirt and feels like cotton. You bring it to your lips, throwing it back like a shot and grumbling as the horrible flavor shudders through you. “Ugh, disgusting.” Olruggio offers you water to chase it down.
“But you’ll feel better soon,” Qifrey muses. “Now, let’s rest.” He looks over at his companion, the other already rolling his working cart to the side, “Bed, Olly?”
“Yeah yeah, I’m comin'.”
You shuffle to the middle of the wide bed, burrowing into the blankets. He isn’t dressed for sleep, unsurprisingly, bare beneath a robe you’re sure he’s worn since bathing. You watch him change, unabashed in your observation. You hear Qifrey snort beside you and mumble something playfully about indecency but you know he’s staring too.
Dressed (how disappointing) and comfortable Olruggio climbs in next to you. Qifrey leans over you and you watch from below as your men share a rich evening kiss. Olruggio makes sure to lean down and capture your lips against his, like he does every night. He better positions himself behind you and you turn to your side, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you flush against his chest. His hands come to rest on your stomach and you feel him burrow his face in your hair.
Qifrey puts his things away and blows out the candle, the moonlight from the window the only thing illuminating the bedroom. He lays down and faces you, brushing a few stray strands of hair from your cheeks. Your lips meet delicately, the separation lingering. You reach for his hand, twining your fingers together and letting them rest between your bodies. His thumb brushes delicately against your skin as he whispers, “Goodnight, darling.”
Your only response is a hum as your eyes flutter close and you drift into a deep comfortable sleep.
Summary: You're happy. You have a lovely home, a wonderful husband and four bright girls. So, why does Olruggio suddenly make your heart race? And why does Qifrey not seem to mind?
Pairing: Poly!Qifrey/Reader/Olruggio
Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Tags: qifrey is a freak and olruggio has a panic attack; multichapter, Established Relationship, polyamory, love confessions, major character injury, accidental love confessions, angst, hurt/comfort, original characters used as plot devices, cross-posted to AO3, no beta cause i post for fun and for free
Word count: 4,027
Rating: T
chapter 3 - chapter 4
Olruggio stood beside Qifrey as he watched his companion work. He was propped against the table, one arm holding his weight while the other sat on his hip.
Qifrey had called him in here only a half hour ago, you and the girls were fast asleep, unaware of what was happening.
In front of Qifrey was a small round contraption. A red Kalhn gem, polished to perfection, sat comfortably in gold plated metal. The gem wasn’t rare. Olruggio had seen it, and used it, many times. It was a common decorative piece in Kalhn, used as altar details, jewelry gifts and bead embellishments. It was probably part of the reason that Qifrey chose it. It wasn’t unusual, or strange and fit right in with the world around it.
“Can you look at this seal for me?” Qifrey asked.
“Qifrey, you can’t give this to her.” Olruggio said.
Qifrey looked up at him, gaze penetrating over the rim of his glasses.
“You know why I have to,” Qifrey said. Of course Olruggio knew why. He just didn’t like it. You wouldn’t like it. Was it necessary? Maybe, Olruggio wasn’t sure. He only just learned about the threat that Qifrey was scrambling to neutralize.
After Senaka’s visit to the atelier and your reluctance to explain it, Qifrey pulled Olruggio to the side. Told him that there was no client, no job. He’d been looking for a brimcap who’d been leaving evidence of themself to everyone in Kalhn, sloppy spells and taunting sigils. They wanted to be found but didn’t want to make it easy. He’d been keeping a secret from him, and you, for at least two months.
Olruggio would say the reveal spiked his irritation but he could only sigh.
“Are you going to tell her what it is?” Olruggio asked. Qifrey often purposefully negated information, not out of malicious intent or psychotic manipulation but rather the paranoid belief that not knowing was sometimes better than knowing. He meant well, Olruggio knew that, despite not making the best decisions.
“Of course I will, she has to be the one to activate it.” Qifrey said it like it was obvious, like a tracking necklace was some casual gift made of nothing but sparkling red gems and a loving touch.
Olruggio sighed but pulled up a stool and fell onto it. He grunted as he held out his hand, asking for the contraption. He knew he had no other option than to look at it. Qifrey was going to give it to you either way, the least he could do was make sure the thing didn’t shatter after one use or burn your skin where it would rest against your chest.
Olruggio plucked a loupe from the edge of the desk, squeezing the cylindrical piece between brow and cheek to hold it in place in front of his eye. Qifrey moved the spotlight above them, casting a concentrated glow over Olruggio’s hands.
“What is it exactly supposed to do?” He asked, rotating the piece in his fingers. The weight was good, comfortable. Not too large, not too small. It was warm from Qifrey’s touch. He’d done well with designing it.
“A part of the seal is sketched on the gem and on the back of the fauceting. When you press it,” he reached over and gently popped the gem into place with a soft click. It flickered briefly before puttering out. “It glows, and triggers two rings to tell the wearer that something is wrong.”
Olruggio popped the gem out of its placement with the back of a wooden tool. He raised it to the light to examine the spell.
“It needs to be inscribed.” He said. He ran his thumb over the back of the gem and the markings smudged. “This ink won’ hold, ah know it’s used for painting like this but the constant friction will wear it down in days, whether it’s activated or not.” This ink couldn’t handle the heat of the body like it could outdoor temperature. Paired with the elements and human sweat it was bound to dissolve.
Qifrey peered under the light. He rocked forward a little for a better view. “I trust you.” He said simply. Olruggio glanced at him but didn’t reply. He reached for the searneedle pen, plucking it from a glass holder and activating it. It hummed with heat.
Just as he was about to press the needle to the back of the gem, Qifrey’s hand snaked underneath the table and settled on Olruggio’s closest thigh. The gesture was casual and Qifery made no comment as his long fingers squeezed gentle.
Olruggio was suddenly having a very hard time concentrating.
His finger twitched and he willed himself to focus. This sigil was sensitive and the slightest mistake would ruin everything.
Qifrey’s hand rolled tortuously, caressing Olruggio’s leg. Olruggio gripped the pen tighter, the steady hand of an inventor nearly unravelled by a touch meant for a lover.
It only took only minutes for Olruggio to inscribe the spell, even with his distraction.
Olruggio placed the finished gem on the table, before reaching for the metal bed it would sit in. Out of the corner of his eye, Olruggio could see that Qifrey was watching him work, rather than watching him. As if he were unaware (or good at masking) the fact that he was practically groping him. But Olruggio made no attempt to remove the touch. He actually adjusted towards it, his thigh moving just a tad closer to his friend.
When he finished searing the patterns into the metal Olruggio couldn’t put the necklace back together fast enough. He shakily placed the gem into its housing and pressed down.
Click.
Buzz. A long drawn out ring and a small light pillared in the bowl on the table. It wiggled before straightening, pinpointing the location of the pendant. Qifrey smiled, “They work perfectly.”
When Olruggio released the contraption the buzzing stopped and the light faded. He handed it to Qifrey. Qifrey’s one hand remained on his thigh but he used his free one to take the piece.
“I trust you with her, you know.” he said casually. He held the gem up to the light, watching the candle lick at the shadows of his fingers and dance along the back of the pendant. The red gem pulsed beside the flames, rolling shades of red and orange, dancing in time with the flickering candle.
Olruggio didn’t know what to say, that damn hand on his leg was already making it hard to think, so he gave up on even trying to talk.
“Olruggio, has she said anything to you?” Qifrey asked suddenly. The question jolted the other man back into reality, only a little less dazed by their bodies being so close.
“What?” Olruggio asked.
Qifrey hummed, “ah, I mean, has she shown any interest.”
“In what?” Olruggio questioned. Qifrey looked at him like you would look at a wounded dog, with nothing empathetic understanding. Was he? Olruggio’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to respond, but Qifrey smiled gently and spoke before he could get the next words out.
“Nothing,” Qifrey said, “Do not worry, my friend.”
The word friend was heavy, falling from his tongue with something adjacent more to that of a lover. Olruggio’s heart pulsed, he felt sweat bead at his brow.
Qifrey was married. He was married to you. But the way he spoke to him, the way he has spoken to him, dug a hole in his heart that he has never been able to fill. Never been able to satisfy, and he had no right to even try and fill it.
Qifrey was married and he was married to you and he should have pulled away when Qifrey placed his hand on his leg, but he didn’t, Qifrey never does anything by accident, it’s always calculated, this was no different, right,
and when Olruggio held you beside him at the market the other day and when your hands fell to his chest after waking up, they left the same heated touch as Qifrey’s did now, grounding, rich, addictive, but Qifrey was married and he was married to you and Olruggio knew he had no right to get in between that, but Qifrey was suggesting that he could just—right, right, right—?
“Master Qifrey? Are you awake?”
Olruggio nearly jumped out of his skin. Qifrey pulled his hand away, the weight of him now a ghost, the heat of him gone. “Yes, Tetia? Another nightmare?”
“...yes…” she said, defeated.
“I am coming, my dear. Let me clean up and I will help you settle back to bed.” Qifrey shuffled about the room, pulling on his evening robe and dropping the necklace in the bowl with the rings. He slipped out of the room silently, only looking back at Olruggio once, a glint in his eye.
“I mean it, Olruggio, I trust you with everything.”
When the door clicked shut behind him Olruggio let out a shuttering breath and rubbed his face with a trembling hand, barely concealed by his work.
“Fuck.”
That necklace haunted him for the rest of the night.
“Have you lost your mind, Qifrey?” You hissed. It was late, well into the evening, and the three of you were sitting in the living room. You’d been restless for the better half of the week. You could barely sleep and every little thing made you jump. Qifrey’s soothing hums and delicate caresses did nothing to ease you into the realm of dreams. You’d jerk awake every few minutes, the faint sound of phantom thunder and the rattle of the brass door knob rocking you from sleep.
Your nerves were fried and Qifrey suddenly telling you that he was going to the great hall to do some research, burnt out the last bit of stable light you had.
Olruggio sat awkwardly on the floor when you shot up from the couch, watching you carefully.
“Darling—”
“Do not ‘darling’ me, husband. You can’t just leave with all this going on!” You kept your voice low not wanting to wake the children, but the power behind it, the irritation was clear.
“I have to do this,” he said gently, reaching for your hand. You pulled back, and Olruggio could see the flicker of hurt that darted across Qifrey’s face. Part of him felt bad, but another part of him didn’t. He’d warned him this would cause a rift the longer he hid it.
“You have people in this home who need you here,” you said. You tried to not let your lip tremble. From the frustration, from the fear, from the anger. “We need you here. I need you here.” Your voice faltered.
“What if he comes back, Qifrey? What if he takes one of the girls from us.” You don’t know combat magic like they do, you never had the interest to learn, and you certainly never had the need to. Regular witches didn’t have the need for fighting.
He opened his mouth to speak and you cut him off when the realization struck you, “he’s going to come back, isn’t he? How long have you known?” Out of the corner of your eye, Olruggio dipped into his work and you knew you’d discovered something you shouldn’t have.
Your husband sighed. “You don’t have a client do you, Qifrey?”
“No, I do not.” When a lover slips out of bed in the middle of the night to dip away to privacy or when they stay out working late again and again, the conclusion is rather simple. A secret lover, a midnight rendezvous.
Yours was not so simple. You had other worries, stranger ones, because when your husband did exactly that it meant he was putting himself in danger not slinking off to have an affair. It just always takes you a while to realize it.
“How long?”
“A few months. The first time I recognized it was him we were at the market.” It’s been weeks since that day. He’s known for weeks and was only telling you now?
Olruggio was not spared your wrath, “you knew too, didn’t you?”
“…for only a week o’ so…” he mumbled, shrinking to avoid your fire. He was scared of those flames.
“Out of all the stupid things both of you have done!” Your eyes burned from frustration. Tears prickled the back of them and you struggled to keep your voice steady.
Here you were, beating yourself up for hiding a palm quire for a week and your husband knew about everything for months. You’d done the same thing yourself, in all honesty, but the bubbling irritation that all three of you seemed incapable of asking for help and now wanting to worry about each other was a testament, in your mind, as to why you were together.
“You didn’t tell me, you didn’t warn me!” You gripped the front off your night gown, the robe over it heavy and suffocating, “what if he took one of our girls! I could have seen him anywhere, he’s clearly following us. I would have known to avoid him, to tell—our girls you two. Our children!”
Days of little sleep and constant anxiety burst from you in a waterfall of tears. You gripped the edge of the couch to keep yourself from collapsing, the world was blurry. You could saw Qifrey, a mass of white and grey, reach for you but you stepped back to avoid him. Stumbling.
Warm hands fell to your lower back, supporting you and keeping you from falling bottom first into the glowing hearth. “Aye, let’s sit.”
“I don’t want to sit,” you grumbled. Nonetheless you gripped Olruggio’s sleeve as he helped you settle onto the couch. He crouched in front of you as you sniffled, your mind was racing, running circles around every scenario you could think of before stopping and starting over again.
You stilled when a small wooden box was placed in your lap. Qifrey’s long fingers titled your chin up and he delicately pressed a handkerchief to your cheeks, dabbing at stress-dampened skin. “I am sorry, my love.” He said carefully. He ran pacifying thumbs over your cheeks. “I did not want you to worry.”
“Too late for that,” You bit out weakly. He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, the kiss was a shadow, a statement. You returned it weakly.
Olruggio watched the two of you quietly. It hurt him to see you like this. His hand twitched with the desire to comfort you. He wanted to place his hand on your knee, just to tell you that he was here, but he froze when Qifrey kissed you. A harsh reminder that it was not his place to do that.
“It will just be for a few days,” Qifrey said quietly. Your breath hitched, but you let him explain. “Senaka is a brimcap. There were whispers of one hiding in Kalhn, and I was trying to track him down. The last thing I ever wanted him to do was come to our home.”
“and you’re certain he’s after?” You grabbed the box, the edges digging into your hand.
“Coco. Yes. ” He said. Olruggio shifted back and settled on his bottom, bringing up a knee and resting his arm on it as he propped himself up. He stayed silent as you spoke.
This was not Coco’s first encounter with the Brimmed Caps. That poor girl had seen them once every few months since arriving at the atelier. The damned book she was given haunting her day and night. You’d thought they’d taken a break from chasing her, you’d hoped they’d given up but clearly that was not the case.
“I need to do more research. You said a storm hit when he arrived, yes?”
You nodded.
“I think he is manipulating the weather, those weeks of storms weren’t just an unusual rainy season. That was an attempt to keep everyone indoors.”
“So, he could snoop out the residents?” Olruggio said.
“Yes, precisely.” Qifrey said, as he reached for the box. “Residents would only leave for necessities, which allowed him to watch and observe. I suspect when he realized we did not live in Kalhn, he needed to find another way to smoke us out.”
He pried open the box with a gentle pop, and your eyes widened at it’s contents.
Settled comfortably a small satin cushion was a pendant, bright red and sparkling, it was connected to a golden chain.
He lifted the piece from its storage. He placed it in your hands, guiding your fingers to the facets.
“What is this?” You whispered.
You pressed into it and the pendant clicked, two bright red lights followed. Qifrey flipped his hand over to show you his fingers and situated beside his wed band was a thin gold ring lined in gemstones. They pulsed with light and the ring vibrated gently. Your eye caught Olruggio’s hand as he revealed his own, same color, same shape.
“When I heard of Senaka’s whereabouts I wanted to make something you could contact us quickly and discreetly in the event of an emergency. A portable windowway would not do. This should work, however.”
All those nights of him hidden away he was working on this. You caught Olruggio’s eye who returned it with a sheepish avoidance.
You gripped the piece between your palms as he added, “You will not be alone. Olruggio is staying with you.” Your eyes flickered to the dark haired man, he smiled at you. “Aye, you’re stuck with me until he gets back.” He bravely reached for your hand and you gripped it, allowing Qifrey to slip the necklace from your fingers.
He eased the chain around your neck, and the pendant settled just above your breasts, glowing softly across the cotton of your pajamas. Qifrey kissed the side of your head, placing his hand on top of yours and Olruggio’s.
“He will keep you perfectly safe, darling.”
Qifrey sought out Olruggio’s gaze over the crown of your head, the two stared at each other, speaking silently in that unique way only they understood.
“Perfectly safe.”
He pawed at the darkness, hands grabbing nothing but water. It flooded his eyes, filled his lungs, and he just spun and spun and spun as he was sucked into a blight of agony.
He could hear you, see your shadow above the rim of the pool, reaching for him but he couldn’t move. And when hands, that were not his, not Olruggio’s fell on your shoulders and pulled you back—
Qifrey’s eyes popped open and he inhaled deeply as he was pulled from a rather unsettling dream. It meant nothing, a whirl pool sucking him down into unfathomable darkness with no means of escape. It was normal for him. He traced the veins of the wood beams above him, the sheets of the canopy that surrounded his bed swayed gently in the earlier morning light. The sun had barely risen, illuminating the room with shades of orange and yellow. The sweat on his brow dried with the cool morning air.
Senaka had been on his mind since he’d fallen to sleep. The mystery of the man and the threat he held over them a haunting lullaby.
“Hmm…” you were curled at his side, head resting on his chest. He brought a hand up and gently brushed your hair from your face. You slept peacefully, finally, after nearly weeks of unsettled rest. Your gown, skewed and uneven from adjusting in your sleep. The rays of light caught the pendant around your neck, reflecting the gem across your chest. You’d not taken it off since he’d given it to you. He was happy for that, it eased him, if only a little. His ring sat securely on his finger.
He glanced at the wall clock opposite of the bed, it moved thoughtlessly, hands on 7 and 6. He sighed.
He needed to get up, but he didn’t want to disturb you. He always found sweet satisfaction in how you clung to him at night, hand desperately clenching his night shirt and nuzzling as close as you possibly could.
He tried to slide from underneath you but you whined. He smiled and kissed the top of your head, hand caressing your cheek as he tried again. He evaded your touch the second time and managed to leave the bed without tripping. You groaned and rolled, pawing the bedsheets. He crouched when your eyes cracked open, looking for him blearily. He thumbed your cheek, “I am going now.” he said gently.
You hummed, half aware. You knew he was leaving this morning but the exhaustion sat so deep in your bones that you barely had the energy to speak. “Come back soon?” You muttered, burrowing further into the pillows. “Of course,” he said softly. He kissed you delicately, and all you could do was hum in satisfaction before being lulled back to sleep. Thank goodness. He was sure he’d be able to leave if you begged him to stay again.
Qifrey rose and dressed, pulling the curtains to the canopy closed just before he left the room.
He stood in the kitchen now, tucking bread and dried meat into a sack. Checking to make sure he had enough ink and parchment for spells.
“Goin’ away for a while are yuh?” Olruggio leaned against the wall, watching him casually. His accent was thicker in the mornings.
Qifrey continued packing, “I hope for just a day or so. I won’t be long.”
“Aye, like I’ll believe that.” Olruggio hummed. Qifrey’s plans always derailed in one way or another, and Olruggio was always prepared for that inevitability. Qifrey, from the way he was packing, was too.
Qifrey’s face was set in melancholy, “She will get lonely.”
“Well, that means you’ll ‘ave to hurry back.” Olruggio said. It wasn’t often that you were separated from Qifrey but it always felt like the weight of the world was suddenly crushing you when he wasn’t around.
“Will you stay with her?” Qifrey asked. He stepped in front of Olruggio who righted himself, straightening to his full height as he looked up slightly at the taller man.
“We already talked about that, I’ll keep the girls safe too.”
“Olruggio.” Qifrey said.
The dark haired man raised a brow, “Hm?”
“When I spoke to you that night, when I first started drafting the seal.”
“Yeah, wha’ about it?” Olruggio asked.
“I told you I trust you with everything. With her.” Olruggio remembered. The night was not easily forgotten.
“If she needs anything, wants anything. You do it.” Qifrey paused, rolling the next words in his mouth to taste them before saying, “If you want to give her anything, you’re more than welcome to. I’m sure she’d like it.” Olruggio’s breath hitched and his eyes darted to Qifrey’s lips before catching the man’s bright blue eyes.
Olruggio muttered the phrases to himself, lips mouthing the movements, trying to understand exactly what he meant. He couldn’t possibly—?
Qifrey didn’t break eye-contact as he secured the bag around his chest, and grabbed his cap off the hook by Olruggio’s head. Olruggio followed his movements. They were steady, assured. When he pulled his arm down he paused, glancing at Olruggio’s lips just before he leaned in and brushed his against Olruggio’s cheek instead. It was so light that if Olruggio wasn’t paying attention he would have thought it was a brush of the breeze.
“I will be back soon.” He placed his cap on his head, “Stay safe, Olly.”
He swept past Olruggio, his strides long as he exited the atelier with a click of his heels, leaving his life long friend with too many thoughts to organize and a racing heart.
Maybe Smoker, Benn, Law, or Ace dealing with super clumsy reader who always end up in an accident every week like steeping on glass or tripping
Guess who's finally back from being sick?! I'm still feeling a bit drained and getting my energy back so for a little while at least I'll be sticking to these head canon style posts until I can tackle longer scenarios/requests/stories.
Thank you for this suggestion. I love the concept and hopefully you like what I came up with. Sadly I didn't do something for Ace but if this gets suggested again I'll do another part with him 💕
Smoker
☁️ Your clumsiness baffles him completely. Out on missions you're laser-focussed, highly-skilled and one of the best but off-duty or when you're back on the base you're a walking catastrophe.
☁️Not a day goes by were he spots you sporting a new bruise or witnesses you displaying some form of your special brand of gracelessness that in spite of his better judgement he can't help but find endearing.
☁️Smoker, a man who has been in many fights and battles, will never bat an eye at that and meet it completely relaxed. But when he watches you walk down the hallway, catch your foot on nothing and stumble, he's physically tensing. As he watches you either catch yourself awkwardly or getting up off the floor with whoever you accidentally crashed into, Smoker lets out a long breath and reaches for another cigar while muttering you're going to be the death of him (and this is before you two got together.)
☁️When you both do become a couple Smoker is a lot more used to your accident-prone nature. It's all but second nature to him now to practically time when something could happen to you and now that you're more likely to be closer to him, he's able to act in time to prevent most of your mishaps.
☁️Now anytime you stumble, he's either the one you're going to crash into and he's able to catch you. Or he's able to send his plumes of smoke out quick enough to cushion your fall and pull you back towards him where it's safe. After those incidents occur, he's either got his hand on your shoulder or resting on the small of your back for the next couple hours, just in case.
☁️Smoker will always worry for you but only because of how clumsy you are when you don't have a mission or assignment to focus you but his worries grow when he has to leave you for the rare missions you aren't going with him or if he's been summoned to Head Quarters. Because past events have proven that you can and usually do injure yourself in some fashion even when you've been left unattended, Smoker warns the others on base to watch you like a hawk. Obviously it goes without saying that there will be hell to pay if he comes back and you've managed to get so much as a paper cut that he wasn't already aware of.
☁️He knows the others can't watch you all the time but when he is back and it's just the two of you, you can be sure he's lightly pressing a kiss to any new mark you got while also giving you a small, mostly lighthearted lecture on being more careful.
Benn
🚬Benn firmly believes that you were brought into his life because some higher power believed he was getting 'too relaxed' so here you were to keep him on his toes and you manage that every single day without even trying.
🚬Over the years he has seen you manage to achieve every possible way of getting yourself into what others would see as a practically impossible incident. He's seen you fall over nothing while completely sober, you've managed to walk into doorways you'd just seen someone else walk through, you've even managed to give yourself a black eye from falling out of the bed.
🚬The latter is why Benn always sleeps on his side with a strong arm wrapped around you preventing any chance of you falling or hurting yourself during the night. This plan does have some slight hiccups because on some very rare occasions you did manage to elbow Benn in the ribs or jaw by accident when you moved in your sleep. But still he doesn't listen to any apologies. Teasingly he just tells you he knew and accepted the risks when he fell in love with you.
🚬Despite knowing your clumsy nature Benn doesn't constantly hover around you, knowing you're strong and your little accidents are never truly life-threatening. Besides even when it appears as though he's doing something else he's always aware of where you are and what you're doing on the ship so he can act if the need arises.
🚬Benn's favourite instance of coming to your rescue was when you slipped and fell backwards off the gangway when you and the rest of the crew were in the middle of loading the ship with supplies. As soon as Benn heard the splash he knew it was you and was diving overboard without any hesitation. When you were both getting dried off in your shared quarters you asked if he was sick of your clumsiness yet. At that Benn could only laugh and press a kiss against your head. "How can I hate the very thing that brought us together in the first place? Or have you forgotten literally crashing into me when a Marine was chasing you?"
Law
🫀 Law was always certain that being a doctor was what he was meant to do with his life. Even with the power of his Devil Fruit making his profession (aside from piracy) so much easier, Law never allowed his skills to dull and poured all of his free time into his continued learning and honing of his skills. What he hadn't expected to assist in keeping his skills sharp and practiced was you.
🫀When Law had extended the offer for you to join his crew you'd initially hesitated, telling him that you didn't want to slow him down or be a liability because of your clumsiness. He'd dismissed your words and insisted he wouldn't have offered if he didn't genuinely wanting you on the crew. Finally you accepted but sighed. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
🫀Yes, you did warn Law and he quickly saw for himself just how clumsy you were. He couldn't explain how you managed to get into so many accidents but you did. It didn't matter how careful you were or how observant you were, these things just happened around you.
🫀Every time you had a bruise, a cut, or a sprain, whether from day-to-day activities or battles you fought Law would be there to patch you up and treat you and never without complaint. If anything he always had a fond look of nostalgia in his gaze.
🫀It wasn't until the two of you grew closer and your relationship became romantic that he finally opened up to you and told you about his past and about Cora that you understood that look properly.
🫀One night you'd accidentally knocked over your glass of water in the kitchen and stood on one of the thankfully smaller shards you had missed in your cleanup. Law already had his room activated the second he heard the glass smash and appeared, immediately setting you on the counter to begin to tend to your wound.
🫀"So who was a bigger danger to themself? Me or Cora?" You can't help but ask, watching Law let out a small laugh.
"It's not a competition but Cora was worse than you've ever been."
"You're just saying that to make me feel better."
"I'm serious." Law smirked, "You've never accidentally set yourself on fire before."
I'm still getting over things slowly and wanted to do another head canon post and this idea came out of nowhere and went with some characters I haven't written for in a while. Hopefully I'll be back to posting things properly soon. In the meantime I hope you like this entry💕
Zoro
⚔️Before things became officially romantic between you both and Zoro still wished to be near, his actions always appeared to be coincidental. He'd just happen to flop down and nap on the deck when you were already there relaxing. When the ship docked at a new island, it was just luck of the draw he was paired up with you or part of the same group as you to either explore or guard the Sunny.
⚔️Zoro is a man who isn't vocal about wanting your attention even though he wants nothing more than your gaze and focus to be on him. He finds himself physically bristling when he hears the cook loudly call for you across the deck and fawn over you. Even worse is the feeling that twists inside when you respond. It doesn't matter if it's a polite acknowledgement, it's attention on a fool who doesn't deserve it in his opinion.
⚔️It is jealousy that spurns Zoro on for the most part in the beginning, provoking Sanji into fights just before the lovesick cook gets a chance to call to you. It's a win-win situation for Zoro this way. Not only can he take out his frustrations on the source but also if the fight gets noisy enough, he can feel your stare on him. That, he savours because if that's what you're offering him he'll take it.
⚔️In a relationship with him, Zoro still has his guard up, still hides most of his wants from the notice of others. He'll stand close by when he can but for most of the day to day softness, he relies on you to be the instigator. Most of the time it looks like you're the one going to his side to talk while he trains or lie down to nap with him and you're perfectly happy with the arrangement because it gives you reason to tease your boyfriend.
⚔️One afternoon you shift from your position on the deck to the sound of Usopp calling for you to see the fish he reeled in. Before you can sit up Zoro's grip on you tightens, his face a perfect mask and breathing easy. You grin and curl in close when Zoro lolls his head to the side, tucking his chin on top of your head. "If only your enemies could see you now huh?"
"Dunno what you're talking about." he huffs out lowly, a small smirk tugging at his lips when he feels you sink deeper into his hold.
Kid
⚙️Bold, brash, loud. Kid thrives off of attention from his crew and any spectators about to see his next stunt. He adores the attention, the newspapers reporting on his gaining momentum as a pirate to take notice of. Every increase of the bounty he deserves just makes his grin spread and desire to keep going burn hotter. When you're there to see all this however? Well that just makes every success taste that much sweeter.
⚙️Because of Kid's nature being so boosted by an audience, you didn't realise straightaway that your focus in particular motivated Kid to really show off and beat his opponents into the ground. You truly thought it was just the flow of things. How were you to know that Kid's slow look to the crew and asking you directly "Are you watching?" was more than just grandstanding? Because in the beginning you were clueless that it was something deeper, something genuine.
⚙️As things progressed into your attraction for your Captain you'd sometimes grow a little bolder and throw Kid a wink just before he launched into his fight. Did you get just a little hopeful that maybe it looked like he put extra force into his attacks for you? Yes. But you told yourself it was just your imagination. At least until you learned the truth and you and Kid finally admitted your feelings for each other.
⚙️He was a menace for attention when he was just your Captain but now that you're together he's on a whole other level. It's no longer making sure you're watching during fights or being near to share a drink and listen to his stories in the middle of a bar. if he decides he hasn't seen enough of you he's acting.
⚙️There have been times you've been in the middle of talking to Killer when Kid has stomped across the deck, hooked his arm around you and carried you away without breaking stride. It doesn't matter how much you tell him it's rude or that you were doing something important, Kid just laughs and throws himself down onto a seat with you tucked in beside him.
⚙️Kid relishes in your undivided attention as you rest against him, your eyes on your face as you smile up at him and absently running your fingers along his arm as you do so. As bold, brash and loud as Kid is, the quiet moments with you and him being your sole focus is his favourite.
Lucci
🐆Being the perfect image of cold aloofness, it can be hard to spot when Lucci wants attention from others. Most of the time he despises the thought of being crowded by those inferior to him, crowded and forced to endure ridiculous conversations. Not only do civilians set his teeth on edge but the fawning lower ranks of the Marines and Cipher Pol do too. With one specific exception that is. You.
🐆A fiercely strong, intelligent, and lethal agent deserving of your rank Lucci first properly took notice of you after you'd been on a couple missions along with others of the organisation. Yes you had the skills and did your role perfectly, what first made Lucci look your way was that you didn't look his. Even when the missions were over and the unit was journeying back with guards lowered, you didn't approach him with gushing compliments and requests to know how to get further in your career. You gave him space and anything you did have to say was kept brief and only about important topics.
🐆Lucci is subtle about how he first seeks your notice. Being a higher rank it's not unusual for him to seek out progress reports on ongoing missions. It just might be that he asks more in depth questions about your current mission than he would compared to other agents.
🐆His other method is when you're using the training room for sparring matches. Because with an opponent as fast and intense as Lucci even if it's just training you can't afford to lose focus and look anywhere else but him. In those sessions Lucci can't help the satisfied smirk when your eyes glint seriously and steel as you look at him. He also can't help but relish the sight when he wins the spars every time.
🐆When you and Lucci do give into your attraction his need for closeness is kept at bay under his strict training and resolve at least until duties are done for the day at Cipher Pol's base. When it's just the two of you Lucci is more relaxed, at least by his standards, especially when sleeping. While you still give him his space and don't lie pressed up against him constantly, his arm will still be draped over you. When you shift in your sleep he'll immediately react, fingers flexing and dragging you back slightly in a silent sign of wanting you close.
