#soft kidd

Masterlist

Warnings (overall)- MDNI; 18+ content; Dark themes: Non-con; TRAUMA/language/NSFW; Gore; explicit content; slight Dead Dove; not proof read- first story (please be kind), follows canon One Piece from Kidd Pirate's POV

The next part may take a HOT minute to be posted.... I have- I lost my notebook. 🤦‍♀️😶🤦‍♀️and it kinda has the details for the next chapter.... ANYWAYS! enjoy this 2 chapter update!! 😅🥲

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Kidd finds you where the world threw you away. Broken. Fevered. Alive.

He carries you back to the Victoria Punk and refuses to let you out of his arms — not for the crew, not for the doctoring, not even for sleep. This time, he’s not letting you go. Some rescues aren’t victories. Some are promises.

Kidd POV

Kidd’s boots kicked the door with barely restrained fury. Every second without you was a second too long. He didn’t need Killer to confirm it—he felt your absence like a wound. The trail had led them here, a forgotten corner on the outskirts of The Human Shop’s holdings, quiet except for the occasional scrape of metal and low groan of the other prisoners. Apparently this was where they sent the rejects. 

The door splintered open, and Kidd froze, nostrils flaring. There you were—or what was left of you. Wife #17 as you had been named. His Mouse. Discarded like trash on the floor. The chains clinked faintly as you tried to shift. Kidd’s breath catches in his throat as he stumbles forward, fists tightening, eyes focusing solely on you. Killer stayed back, scanning for movement- calculating, silent, letting his captain lead.

“Y/N… Mouse?” Kidd’s voice was low, guttural, disbelief lacing every syllable. His gaze dropped—and froze. Your leg. The wooden stump was unmistakable, crudely fashioned, yet immovable. His chest tightened as the words clawed at him: someone did this to her.

“She’s alive,” Killer murmured, placing a steadying hand on Kidd’s shoulder. But Kidd barely felt it. The world narrowed down to you. Alive, breathing, wounded—and his.

Without thinking, he dropped to his knees beside you, ignoring the eyes of other captives- guards already incapacitated. “Mouse,” he whispered again, voice hoarse and shaking, “I got you. I’ll get you out of here.” His hands were gentle but firm as he checked your chains and the bindings on your wrists, calculating the quickest way to release you.

Why had they put you in Sea-prism stone? The answer didn’t matter though. Kidd had what mattered.

“You’re safe now,” he said, though it felt like a lie even as the words left his mouth. He could feel you trembling, the shock radiating off you like fire. You looked up at him, eyes wide-glassy, trying to place the familiar in the midst of horror.

“I swear, you’ll never… never be touched like this again,” he growled. Every muscle coiled, ready to tear apart anyone who dared to come near. Killer moved in silently, cutting through the remaining restraints and scanning the area for threats. Kidd’s heart was a storm, part rage, part relief, part guilt that he hadn’t arrived sooner. But the moment was fleeting. You were all that mattered. He lifted you carefully, supporting your weight as you weakly leaned into him. “We’re leaving,” he said, voice steel now, “and nobody’s stopping us.”

The rescue wasn’t clean—the guards must have set off an alarm before becoming invalid. But Kidd’s fury was precise, terrifying. Every strike, every motion was calculated, a blur of vengeance and protection. He delivered swift punishment, justice all while NEVER dropping you. Never again. The world outside reduced to the screaming of marines too foolish to stay out of their way. Kidd didn’t speak. His mind turned like gears with so many thoughts. As the ship neared he decided that for all the darkness you had just endured, he would keep holding on. And if change was required then he would carve a new path with you- together.

By the time they reached the ship, you were tucked safely in Kidd’s arms, Killer your sentry. And Kidd held you. He held on as the crew tried to catch glimpses of you. He held you as Killer cleared the way to his quarters. He held you as the Victoria Punk cut through the waters. He doesn’t bother with the med bay. Anything you need can be done here—on his bed, where he can see you, where he can keep you.

“I need to take a look,” Killer says, stepping in and reaching for you.

Kidd’s grip tightens instantly. A low growl slips free before he can stop it—raw, animal, protective. It doesn’t matter that it’s Killer. Doesn’t matter that he trusts him with his life. You’re here. Back in his arms. And for the first time since you were taken, Kidd can breathe.

Killer pauses, reads the room, then exhales slowly. “Put her on the bed,” he says instead. Reluctantly, Kidd does. He stays close—too close—hovering like he might snatch you back up at any second. Killer works in silence. Quick. Efficient. Professional. He checks your pulse, your breathing, presses two fingers to your neck. Your skin is burning.

“She’s got a fever,” Killer mutters. “High.”

Kidd’s jaw tightens.

Your leg—what’s left of it—is red, swollen. Angry. Infected. Killer doesn’t comment on the nails driven crudely into the stump. He doesn’t need to. Kidd can see them. Every one of them. Each a violent promise for vengeance.

When Killer finally removes the ruined wooden prosthetic, Kidd doesn’t hesitate. “Throw it overboard.”

Killer does.

Splinters. Blood. Rot. Killer cleans everything meticulously, hands steady despite the rage simmering beneath the surface. Antibiotics follow—stolen from the Straw Hats raccoon dog who definitely had more medical sense than most Marines. Bandages, tight and clean.

Through all of it, you don’t flinch.

Kidd sits the moment Killer finishes, pulling you into his lap like instinct alone demands it. He wraps himself around you, arms iron, like if he lets go even a little you’ll disappear again.

“She’s a strong Punk,” Killer says quietly. “Anyone else would’ve died from half of this.”

Kidd barely acknowledges him as he slides behind you, wrapping himself like a shield around you. He already knows how strong you are. You’ve always been too strong. Strong enough to survive things you never should have had to.

But why you?

Why his mouse?

“When will she wake up?” Kidd asks. It’s quiet. Small. Not the voice of a man who commands ships and tears cities apart.

Killer hesitates. “Partner—”

“When.”

Killer meets his eyes. Doesn’t lie. “I don’t know. The fever could break tonight—or it could get worse. The infection was bad. Being clean now helps. The meds help. But right now…” He exhales. “We wait.”

Kidd scoffs. Wait.

Patience has never been Kidd’s strength.

“I’m staying with her,” Kidd says immediately.

“I know.” It’s not impertinent. Not dismissal. It’s Killer’s unwavering awareness of who his partner is.

“You’re in charge.”

“I know.”

Kidd doesn’t look up. “Get us out of here. Anywhere. As far as possible.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Killer turns to leave, stopping only when Kidd speaks again—so quiet it almost doesn’t sound like him at all.

“Kill… we’re not ready for the New World yet, are we?”

Killer doesn’t hesitate. “No.”

He remembers Victoria. He remembers this look. And for a brief moment, Killer doesn’t know what Kidd will do next.

“Then we train,” Kidd says. “Until we can topple a Yonko. Until I can protect her.”

The last words are barely audible. Meant for himself. Killer says nothing. He simply closes the door behind him and starts shouting orders to the crew. The ship moves.

Kidd holds you in the dark, steady quiet, pressing his face into your hair like anchoring himself there will keep you tethered to this world.

“Please don’t leave me, Mouse,” he whispers.