😜

You lifted your head, curious at the gentleness of his words and his touch. “Join you?” you asked. “Do you not have a full crew already?”

“We do,” he said, his smile lazy as ever. “But I’ll make space for you.”

You laughed quietly to yourself, brushing some of his hair away from his face so you could appreciate him better. Too handsome for his own good. He knew he could get away with anything if he looked at you like that.

“I see a problem with your offer,” you said and he kissed further along your thigh.

“What is it?”

“It’ll make you lose interest too quickly.”

Shanks paused, leaning his cheek against your skin. “Lose interest?”

You moved your leg from his shoulder and leaned down to drag him higher up your body, fingers tangled in his hair and lips locked in a messy kiss. He still tasted of the drinks he’d downed earlier and that explained enough about his impulsive offer.

“It won’t be fun if I’m already on board your ship,” you teased.

“Nonsense. If I had you on my ship, I'd never get anything done. Becks would have to start captaining properly.”

“Don’t you do that when I’m around anyway?” you asked.

He hummed and kissed you again as though to distract you. “Maybe.”

You chuckled softly, unwilling to admit to him how much his offer tempted you. He was far too addictive to turn down. Especially when his tongue was in your mouth and his hand was dragging your leg back up his hip. If you didn’t focus, you could almost believe he wanted you to stay with him. But pretty words alone couldn’t sway you.

You still left the next morning and he didn’t stop you, just pressed a kiss to your shoulder as you slipped from the bed.

“We’ll see each other soon,” he said and he sounded far too confident.

You smiled. “I suppose it depends on if the sea favours us.”

“The sea’s a big friend of mine,” he reassured you. “I’m sure she’ll bring you back to me.”

He wasn’t wrong. No matter how far you sailed, the ocean didn’t give you long before it reunited you with the Red Hair Pirates. You stopped shying away from them after the third encounter, growing bolder with each offer Shanks tossed your way.

Now when you saw the Red Force docked in harbour, her flag snapping high above the masts, you'd wander the island until you found the right tavern. It was never difficult. Somewhere there would be a building with music spilling from the windows, laughter loud enough to shake the walls and patrons pretending not to stare at the cluster of infamous pirates occupying half the room. The Red Hair Pirates had a talent for making themselves at home wherever they landed.

They were a friendly crew. A mostly peaceful one, even. But they were the crew of an emperor and people respected that deeply.

You walked in most times, walked out with your hands in Shanks’ hair every time, and it was never a problem.

Not until the one evening when you waltzed in and half of his crew nudged their captain as though he hadn’t already raised his head to look at you. You smiled at him and made your way to the bar, not bothering him and the woman currently pressed to his arm.

But he never wasted time in approaching you, even if he was busy. He slipped up behind you as you ordered your drink and nodded to the bartender.

"Whatever she's having is on me."

You hummed. “You’re going to run your ship dry if you pay for the drinks of every girl that smiles at you.”

His arm slipped naturally around your waist, resting on your hip as though it belonged there. “Not every girl with a great smile,” he corrected. “Just the ones who need a bit more convincing to dance with me.”

The music in this tavern wasn’t quite suited for dancing. It was softer and almost impossible to hear over the shouts of his crew.

“I might need more convincing than a drink,” you commented.

“Name your price.”

Shanks was far too good at making your heart flutter, no matter how often you were exposed to his seemingly endless charm. He already knew he’d get what he wanted that night and you knew it too but sometimes, making him work for it was part of the fun.

“You’ve been trying to guess at my price for a while now,” you said. “You haven’t gotten any closer.”

“I’ll figure it out with enough time.”

You turned to face him fully, draping your arms loosely over his shoulders. “I’m lucky I managed to find you without any other pretty women around, hm? Ones with more reasonable demands?”

He chuckled and leaned in to press his lips against the side of your throat. “There are plenty. Funny thing is, I keep ending up back here.”

You tilted your head to the side. “As easy to lead back to your bed?”

The expression he gave you was off – a smile that didn’t quite get to his eyes. “Such little faith in me. You’re lucky I don’t get hurt easily.”

“It’s not a lack of faith,” you corrected. “But I know you enjoy the chase more than the reward.”

“I enjoy both as long as you’re there.”

You smiled. “I think you’d miss it too much.”

“Miss what? Waking up alone? Sounds awful.” He pulled you closer. “Can’t say I’d mind having you there instead.”

“The pining,” you corrected. “The wondering when you’ll see me again. Trying to convince me every time. If I was already there, it wouldn’t be nearly as fun.”

Something unreadable flickered over his face. “You think I’m trying to convince you for fun?”

“You wouldn’t do it if it was unpleasant.”

“Or if it wasn’t worth it.”

You couldn’t help being flattered by him, always so smooth. You loved the way he spoke sometimes – the way he made you feel as though you were the only important person in the world.

“I’m surprised your crew isn’t filled with women thanks to those pretty words of yours,” you said. “Even I struggle to tell you no.”

Shanks laughed, a short sound. “Wouldn’t have guessed you struggle with it.”

You leaned in, your mouth hot against his. He kissed you lazily as though you had nowhere else to be, allowing you to lead him through it.

“I’ll get us a room upstairs,” you said with a hum.

For a second, he smiled. Then he leaned in to press a swift peck to the corner of your mouth and said, “No.”

It was as though even the music itself paused as you blinked at him. “No?”

“As much as I love chasing you,” he said, stepping away and leaving the space in front of you feeling very empty. “I’m starting to think you enjoy being chased more than you want me. We set sail in the morning. The offer still stands.”

You watched him walk away in mild confusion, still a little lost before his words caught up to you.

Was he serious?

The bartender placed your drink down next to you but you barely heard it. The music carried on around you as though nothing had changed. A few members of the Red Hair Pirates were starting up a song. The woman he’d been talking to earlier grinned when he returned but he took a seat aside Yasopp instead.

You looked around the party and shrugged, taking your drink and a seat at the bar. If he didn’t leave, you had no reason to either.

Maybe he was trying to prove a point? You thought he might look for another woman whose words didn’t sting as bad as yours did, but he drank and laughed with only his crew and you pretended not to see the way he looked at you. As though he was waiting for something.

You finished your drink and swung off the stool, sliding the beri across to the bartender.

“Isn’t – ”

“I can pay for myself.”

The cold night air was refreshing against your face but the familiar curl of cigarette smoke drew your attention to a very unaffected Beckman. You paused when you saw him, not sure if he had something to say. He looked like he did.

“Running away again?”

“No idea what you mean,” you retorted.

He tilted his head toward the swinging door of the tavern; each time it moved, the raucous din bled through into the night. Beckman wasn’t even really what you would consider an acquaintance but he’d dragged Shanks out your bed more times than you could count.

“It’s early for you to be leaving alone,” he noted.

You didn’t have any reason to explain the break in routine to his first mate. And yet…

“Change of pace tonight,” you said. “I think I offended him.”

Beckman nodded. “You did.”

“I didn’t even know that was possible.”

He shrugged and offered you a cigarette. “I didn’t think it was until recently. Not many people can get under his skin.”

“I’m not wrong though,” you defended yourself.

“No,” he agreed. “You weren’t at one point. I’ve long since lost track of how many women I’ve had to drop off at port in the mornings but none of them were recent. Since he met you, there’s been no others.”

You didn’t want to admit to the way that made your heart flutter just slightly. “It’s the challenge. He tries to get me to join your merry little crew, I do, and then he gets bored in a month.”

“It’s possible.”

You didn’t know why it annoyed you so much that he agreed with you but you felt the glare before you could stop it. True or not, he could have said it in a better way.

“Why does it bother you so much then?” Beckman asked. “If you’re so sure that it’s the truth?”

“It’s still not nice to hear.”

“Because you’ve fallen in love with him?”

You shot him a sharp look. If you didn’t know quite how dangerous this man was, you may have snapped a little more venomously. How you hated him for saying the quiet parts of your worst thoughts out loud.

“I don’t fall in love that easily,” you huffed. “I just don’t particularly feel like joining a pirate crew to be a pretty face on the sidelines.”

“He says you have good enough aim that you won’t be wholly useless. And I’m sure he’ll teach you more if you ask.”

You had no other defence. On a different crew, you may have believed him but you’d heard the legends of the Red Hair Pirates and their skills. You would not sail with an emperor just for the sake that he found you attractive. That was a ridiculous decision. Even without the risk that he lost interest once you gave him what he wanted.

“You can see where we’re docked?” Beckman asked.

“Hard to miss.”

“Then you may as well prove your point.” He blew a puff of smoke into the sky. “You can be useless, let him lose interest and I’ll concede that you’re right.”

“And if I would rather things remain as they are?”

“They won’t. You’ve already ruined that part.”

You almost didn’t board. The Red Force came to life while you stood on the dock, shrouded in shadows and watched the sun rise over the horizon the next morning. The crew woke with complaints of headaches and aches as they got to work.

They were about to weigh anchor by the time you finally found the courage to walk forward, catching Hongo with a look right before he raised the ladder.

He stared for a second and then gestured you to board.

It was a strange feeling to step onto the Red Force. The gangplank creaked softly beneath your boots and the ship rose and fell beneath you with the easy rhythm of the sea. For years she had existed as something distant, spoken about in stories and rumours across countless ports. Yet the deck felt solid beneath your feet. The tarred ropes smelled no different from those of any other vessel. No monsters waited beyond the railings. Just a few curious glances and shouted greetings as the wind swelled her sails.

“He’s downstairs,” Hongo said. “Drank more than usual so he’s still nursing a hangover if you want to see him.”

You looked toward the ship’s doctors. “With how much you lot drink, I’m honestly surprised you don’t have a cure already.”

He smiled. “Maybe I do but I simply enjoy the peace in the mornings. Do you want a tour?”

It wasn’t as though you had anything better to do although it did catch you off guard just how unsurprised the Red Hair Pirates seemed to be about your arrival. Not one of them even mentioned your arrival as the wind caught her sails.

Not even Beckman who gave you a simple nod.

The Red Force was kept in beautiful condition. She was evidently loved and no room felt neglected as you followed Hongo through her passages.

Hongo walked you through the galley, the infirmary, the stores, and everywhere else you might need aboard. You memorised the route as best you could, making note of scuffed boards and chips in the wood rather than considering the ship as anything more. It was easier to focus on that, you realised.

Hongo stopped at a door at the end of a passage that led through the quarters and he pushed it open with casual ease.

“This one’s yours.”

You frowned at the way he said it before stepping inside.

A warm, clean room waited beyond the doorway. Sunlight spilled through the small window, stirring the pale curtains where the sea breeze caught them. A narrow bed sat against one wall with blankets folded neatly across the end while an empty chest waited beside a small desk untouched by clutter. Nothing looked lived in. Nothing looked abandoned either. The room carried the strange feeling of something prepared and patiently waiting.

Guest quarters maybe? Though that hardly made sense and this didn’t look like a spare room, briefly swept out when you stepped aboard. They wouldn’t have had time for that.

There was an explanation that made sense though not one you fully grappled with.

“How long has this been here?” you asked.

“Couple months now. Captain wanted it ready if you ever changed your mind.”

You tried not to let it show just how much that made your stomach twist. He’d prepared a room on his ship in case you joined?

Still, you tried to ignore the topic for a little longer by returning to the deck after leaving your bag. You found an opportunity to lean against one of the cannons, talking to Yasopp about nothing of importance while you watched the island fade behind you.

The door onto deck opened and Shanks stepped out, dishevelled and hiding his eyes from the sun.

Naturally his crew all shouted at once in response to his obvious headache and he winced visually, which only made the others laugh harder. You couldn’t help but smile, chuckling softly at their torment.

He spun at the sound, grin disappearing at once.

Your heart lodged in your throat as you stared, not certain what you should say.

“You’re here?”

Well, he didn’t have to sound so surprised.

“Have been for the whole morning,” you said, your voice quieter than you meant for it to be. “But I thought I should let you get your beauty sleep.”

He chuckled as he walked over, smile gentler than you’d ever seen it before. His eyes glinted with barely concealed excitement as he approached. “Did somebody show you around? To your room?”

“You set that up a while ago,” you said. “Very confident.”

“Hopeful,” he clarified. “How long are you staying for?”

You hesitated before you answered. If you really wanted to, you could disappear the next time you found yourself at an island. But something about that room sitting and waiting for you made leaving feel far less appealing than it ever had before.

“I haven’t decided yet,” you settled on saying.

“That’s fine. When you do leave, just tell me before you go.”

“I will,” you promised.

How many years had passed since you made that promise now? You thought back on it, trying to remember while you swirled the drink in your hand, Shanks’ hand still resting on your hip where it belonged.

“Lost in thought?” he asked.

“Lost in memories,” you corrected with a small smile.

“Oh?” He leaned in close and pressed a kiss right behind your ear in the way that always made you laugh. “Which ones?”

“Ancient ones. I realised that I’m still waiting for you to get bored of me so I can run away.” You took a sip of your drink and tilted your head toward him. “You getting there yet?”

He laughed proudly. “Nowhere close. I should probably be more careful though. Think you’d sooner shoot me than run away now.”

You chuckled in agreement and leaned in to kiss him, slow and lazy as ever. “Maybe. I’m no longer much of a runner.”

𐔌 05 𐦯 Sheriff and the little intern newspaper girl

𐔌 06 𐦯 Somehow, whenever your asshole husband is out for work. He also returns home to see the town sheriff just leaving.

PASTOR!SUGURU GETO

heavy!religious themes. proceed at your own risk

𐔌 01 𐦯 Pastor’s wife

𐔌 05 𐦯 Teaching you to worship his god-given cock

𐔌 02 𐦯 You try to please him too but he just wants you to lie back

𐔌 04 𐦯 Getting you to confessing how wet you were during the sermon.

𐔌 03 𐦯 Pastor. geto says that this was the only way to rid you of your sinful toughts.

𐔌 06 𐦯 How he punishes the slut in his bed, so needy to touch herself without his permission

RANCHER!KENTO NANAMI

𐔌 01 𐦯 His fingers

𐔌 02 𐦯 Nanami’s grip

𐔌 03 𐦯 After finding his girl at the salon

𐔌 04 𐦯 Easing you through your first time

𐔌 05 𐦯 A peak through your bedroom window

𐔌 06 𐦯 A hardworker and his needy wife that waits for him patiently at night.

𐔌 07 𐦯 Your hardworking husband after a long day of hustle and bustle to make ends meet.

BOUNTY HUNTER!TOJI FUSHIGURO

𐔌 01 𐦯 Weakest pull out game

𐔌 02 𐦯 Save a horse and ride a cowboy

𐔌 03 𐦯 He'll change he swears, but for now, let him enjoy this

𐔌 04 𐦯 Toji and the bartender right after she gets off her shift.

𐔌 05 𐦯 When toji heard you were getting engaged...to a ranch boy. He was pissed.

“Married? To him?" "must’ve lost ya goddamn mind.”

𐔌 06 𐦯 The law and toji don’t mix very well. Not enough to be outlawed but definitely enough to not be anywhere near the sheriff's niece. Much less her bed.

“Your uncle’s gonna hang me if he catches me here, darlin’,” “Much less seein' my fingers in your wet pussy.”

𐔌 07 𐦯 How a simple talk to get Toji to pay some child support always ends up

“Yeah… that’s right. You’re not gonna come lookin’ for me anywhere after this, huh?” “Shit… I… might’ve busted in you again. Damn it… you kept rollin’ on me, ain’t my fault.”

OUTLAWED!RYOMEN SUKUNA

it is sukuna, proceed at your own risk

𐔌 01 𐦯 Breaking and entering

𐔌 01 𐦯 Using your mouth for his pleasure

𐔌 01 𐦯 He wasn't too happy to hear about your engagement

𐔌 01 𐦯 How he deals with that bar girl that snitched him out

𐔌 01 𐦯 The shady man you met at the saloon will forever be your best fuck

𐔌 01 𐦯 Sukuna was pissed to see you in the salon, asking around for him like you don't already know how dangerous that is

𐔌 01 𐦯 Everytime you think they got him, think hes finally behind those bars thats you were finally free, your ex comes into your bedroom that same night talkin' about some 'makin' sure you behave'

Yeah, Sylus. Your main in the game and you didn't know what to feel. Knowing that you're not your MC and realized that MC is probably the custom avatar of the game. A far cry from your supposed MC or you. Technically you were MC when you're playing but this time you are not. You were starting to believe that you are not truly MC which is true.

Enough of that, if you want to survive you better start relying on your own and learn a few tricks to save your ass. You don't want to die in a foreign land, let alone a land in a fictional game that you're currently in.

You were about to embark in a journey when you remember you didn't have a trade. Elysium was for intelligent information, assassination and trade of arms and other illegal stuff and you don't do illegal. You can't even handle a gun or pull a pin on a grenade. Hacking? Not a plausible idea. You were only good at organizing documents in a computer.

You stopped in your tracks. Careful at your surroundings, your shoulders slump as you agonize on what trade you can offer in exchange for some lump sum of money or shelter or food or all of the above. You were good as a dead meat. You badly want to cry until a light bulb appeared in your head.

The game was basically your manual on how to survive the game or how to live in the N109 Zone. Although people like you won't survive long. It's either to rise in the ashes or drown in the murky waters.

You already finished the main story, starting from Sylus first appearance which made your heart go thump-thump and spent money that almost your whole salary in a month. You read the anecdotes, his myth. You knew everything about him. His personal life and his connection with MC and how he rules the N109 Zone. Onychinus was the top of the hierarchy here. You know how the Elysium operates so that's what you're going to do. Exchange some information about the future canon events that is yet to happen.

The problem is — it was suspicious. You can't really crash in Elysium and tell Aislinn, the bartender about it. Knowing she directly reports to Sylus and the reality that you weren't your MC — you were surely going to end up with a gun to your head. A stranger revealing secrets, it wasn't a ideal way but you really want to live and that weighs more than anything than the fear and so, standing in front of the Elysium — you entered with death’s hand at your shoulder.

For the better, it turned out good. You didn't reveal anything, someone beat you to the punch of revealing and opportunity opened up to you. Even the N109 Zone was lawless and chaotic, some gangs and organizations really didn't want to leave trace of the transactions that occurred in the hidden areas or the docks and warehouses that the deals takes place.

One of the patrons were looking for someone who can take care of that and you volunteered without a second thought. Your safety will be compromised with that line of work but they only is to keep your mouth shut and deal with the bloodied mess — you took it without hesitation. It was rare for someone to take that but you really need money to start or provide yourself with some basic needs and thus, you ended up in your current situation.

Bullets are flying everywhere and you're going to end up as a casualty if you don't move. You grabbed the classic Smith and Wesson handgun you keep even you don't know how to use it but only when the times comes you need to protect yourself. You didn't know it will come to this point.

You intentionally picked this place for your base. It was the abandoned place far from the chaos of the main zone and it wasn't really ideal for wars because it was very far and the terrain wasn't that good. Broken concrete roads and it can be really hot in the mornings. The surrounding buildings are covered with moss and the fauna was slowly taking over. It wasn't ideal for you to live in the area but it provides safety except now.

A stray bullet pierced to a glass window near you. The glass shatters as it broke and falls near your feet. Without a second thought you immediately crawl. Grabbing the small bag you keep under your bed when you need to run immediately. You grip it tightly as you stand up and bolted away from where you are. The building was still sturdy but the previous gang wars and the Chronorift Catastrophe left it to be abandoned like the other surrounding buildings.

As you descended from the stairs, you held the gun close to you. Your fingers finds the hammer of the gun and hearing the familiar click, you swallowed hardly. Tapping your varsity jacket pockets to check if you have the extra magazines in case you need to reload if you — you hope not, you have to fire in case of self defense.

God, why must you be transported in such a hostile place. You would accept to wake up in a hospital — preferably Akso Hospital and be declared as someone who had amnesia and is truly clueless of what's happening and maybe you can get a glimpse of Dr. Zayne.

You could have gone to Linkon City but you didn't have an identity with you and getting out of N109 Zone needs a special entrance and exit to be granted in order for a individual to leave. The No Hunting Zones was also a way to leave but there's a reason why it was a no hunting zone. It crawls with Wanderers and as a civilian with no Evol, there's a higher chance of you being butchered or succumb to the Flux Nexus.

You're basically a NPC in this world and that sucks more than anything. Where you isekaid here because your main was Sylus? A deepspace tunnel opened and it brought you here. You didn't want to know. It was really disheartening that you have to be here because your main was Sylus. It wasn't like you were hating him or being disappointed. You were basically thrown in a den of lions.

Somehow you managed to survive on your own by being the lackey or you like to call yourself, a cleaner for some of the powerful organizations. You have learned how to remove bloodstains without a trace. The bodies were taken care of by whoever availed your services to clean. You make sure the scene of the crime were spotless as if nothing happened and it was just the same cold and moldy warehouse or alley.

Anyways if you can't get out of this mess, you can kiss your life goodbye.

A sudden burst of adrenaline pumping in your veins made you maneuver the steep stairs and crumbly walls with such ease. Your palm sweaty as it slides in the cold railing. Your body felt like iron as you bump in the walls at every sharp turn. Not bad, self. You want to pat yourself in the back for being able to do such things at your plump stature. You feel like the main protagonist from the movie you used to watch and was it the reason you were here in the N109 Zone? You got the prowess for combat? Such tall tales and that was later proven wrong.

You were good at evading not fighting. That's what you're currently doing right now and you almost let out a breath of relief as you pushed the door in the ground floor. Stumbling in the process as your two feet became unsynchronized. A bullet flew right by and it almost sent you tumbling backwards. You badly want to cry. You're not really built for this.

It seems that your escape route hasn't been intercepted and they're far away from it. You can just run and go for it. Except when you're about to breakthrough — out of the corner in your eye — you caught the glimpse of him.

Sylus.

You can't be mistaken. It was hard to miss him. His name was spoken in whispers. In harsh words and in contempt because there's nothing more cruel than the one who rules the N109 Zone. The leader of Onychinus.

You avoided Sylus nor get involved with him. A civilian or rather a powerless human being in his world cannot survive and you cannot risk making enemies at the same time. You kept a low profile in the duration of your stay.

But to see your main love interests breathing and fighting his enemies in flesh made your chest bloom with warmth. The screen was your boundary between him and you. It was the closest you can ever have him. Pressing your fingertips in the cold screen of your phone and hope you can feel his warmth and hoped he can feel yours too.

He was so close and yet, out of your reach.

Suddenly, you were glued in the floor. Your body refusing to move despite your mind screaming for you to run off. Your legs are frozen. You cannot get involved with him. MC exists in this world andthey were destined for each other. He's waiting for her and you left that with the game's dynamics.

The sound of heavy rifles being loaded and the static ringing in the area and Sylus, there wasn't even much of a tremble or quiver in his movements. He was precise and calculated as he draws his gun. Easily replacing it with a new magazine. His dark glasses perched on his nose. He slides the rack before the sound of gunshot fills the air.

Wait, it's morning. Sylus should be asleep at this time and was only active in the night. Does this means he was overwhelmed and clearly ambushed? You run towards a nearly dilapidated beam. Assessing the situation and when you got a closer look, you notice the damp part of his dark collared shirt.

It wasn't visible but with the morning light and his movements that sways his leather jacket, you can see it. You remembered that Sylus can heal himself but he still get wounded and to get that wound — it must be deep for him to heal properly and he's currently bleeding under his clothes.

You did say you weren't going to get involved the moment you realized you weren't MC. Such matters would have sucked and in the time of care you deeply felt for him. Love will get you killed. Indifference will save you. That was the reason you survived upon being isekaid in the lawless land of N109 Zone.

Alas the moment you had fallen in love with Sylus that even the tiniest voice concern of why you shouldn't save someone just because they were in danger or rather they were the danger, it didn't matter.

Arriving at a resolution, you raised your gun. Pointing at him with a slight tremor in your arm and your palms sweaty that you might slip as you push the trigger. You can do it. You really can do it. You take a deep breath and with a exhale. You push the trigger and with a loud bang that resonated in the area — you hit your target.

He really can't say he was at his wit's end. He was Sylus. Ruler of the N109 Zone and being defeated at this foolish game of foolish people who wants him gone is a humiliation that will haunt him at his death. There's a rule among the residents of this land. It's to kill or be killed. And Sylus isn't going to get slaughtered like a lamb.

The sun's high and he was in a little pinch. His eyesight is made for the night and not in the light. He gives these men who managed to use their cards against him to corner the Onychinus leader. They were really pooling their meager resources to kill him but it wasn't enough although he can give them credits for getting a little smarter and Sylus isn't the one to back down from a fight.

He can give them a little recognition of such feat for injuring him. It was a stray bullet that found its way on his abdomen. He can heal — sure but being repeatedly injured, it stops. His shirt was soaking his blood and his enemies were closing in and then, in some twist or fate or luck or another person thirsty for his blood scrapes him by the shoulder with a bullet.

A stray bullet, maybe but whoever shot him and hitting the one who's closing him falling at the scorching road with a thud must be an amateur or was just really lucky for wounding him and maybe killing the other.

Before he can turn around to look at this one who's brave enough to take a shot, they grab his hand. Pulling them with force of urgency. They run, evading his enemies and although Sylus isn't the one back down from a fight, he knew he needed respite.

Turn after turn, him returning the rounds of bullets to his aggressors. He takes a look at this mortal who dared to save him. Navigating narrow alleyways and taking every sharp turns without pausing like you know every part of this place.

The gunshots have stopped, deciding that you successfully shaked them off. You take a look at his face. “There’s a nearby exit here. They probably don't know about the area and you will be safely get back in your own. I'll be going now. Goodbye.” You say with such firmness before running in the opposite direction without looking back.

You disappeared quickly in his sight. The black and white vision of you in your varsity jacket, boots clicking in the distance. Sylus was left with a strange feeling.

Who was this stranger who saved him and only to disappear on him?

Someone could have used this as a chance to curry favors from him. A chance to rise in the top cause the Onychinus leader never left being indebted to others and such act of saving him can bring fortune if he deemed you worthy but alas, he was only left in the abandoned street with no signs of life besides him. Reeling in the sensation of the stranger's soft hand that previously held his wrist.

No data found.

The screen of his laptop glares at him. No traces or evidence that stranger existed. He hacked every database around the world and no record are found about your identity. Are you a spy? A ghost? He knows you weren't a figment of his imagination that one morning. You were warm and you spoke to him.

You must have one cause despite being nonexistent to others or how much a person hides their identity — there will always be traces of a past of how a person lived no matter how much they try to bury it. The Onychinus searched for any activities that might have linked to you and why did you hole up in that kind of building.

He went back there. The buildings were riddled with bullets. Blood stains in the walls of what violence had occured in there. Investigating and leaving no spot untouched just to get a trace that you were there and you exist. What else could you have been doing there? Maybe you were running away from something or you just didn't like anything that relates to the ruthlessness of the place.

You were a mystery he wants to solve and any day now, you will appear. In the most of convenient or the most unwanted places but Sylus was sure that he will be meeting this stranger again.

“Boss, the scene's spotless. Kieran and I been searching for hours at that warehouse.” Luke's voice can be heard behind him as he stared at the screen. Sylus raises a brow. There's always a spot that's left untouched and he's been living in the N109 Zone for too long that after a bloody showdown, there's always dead bodies and shell casings littering on the cold floors.

Since when these bunch of nobodies started to clean up after themselves?

Well, this have been a occurrence of lately. Crime scenes are left clean. No bodies and not much left even a tiniest speck of blood. Whoever cleaning up these scenes are a professional. It's also hard to found out of whoever doing these are a group or individual but he can appreciate the cleanliness much it was a hassle for his operations. Everyone's evolving in the N109 Zone and he needs a little bit of an entertainment before the boredom catches up to him.

The district warehouse were huge. Larger than what you usually received from the organizations who avail your cleaning services. It was a mess but nothing you can't handle. Upon setting foot in the damp and cold warehouse with the scent of blood and gunpowder, you assess the mess.

Letting your OTTO fly and survey the scene. Scanning trails of blood that you have to manually clean and hidden dead bodies to be disposed of. Securing that there will be no marks or traces of DNA that will point the instigators of this conflict.

Scan completed.

Your OTTO cheerfully chirps at you and you began to slide the gloves in your hands and securing the shoe covers in your feet to avoid footprints that will link to you. You take the plastic sheet from your crate before rolling it to the moldy floors. This is where you will be putting the dead bodies and put them on the body bags you brought. Individually wrapping them up like spring rolls.

It was tasking for a individual work but doing it for months made your body stronger — strong enough to haul bodies heavier than yours. You began your work, stacking them up like building blocks and rolling them with a huff as you struggled cause why men looks like they're light and only to find out they're heavy with that kind of body. Even in death they were still dead weight.

After hauling the last body, you made your way to the blood trail with your handy cleaning tools along with a special solution. You were quick to learn for your trade of cleaning crime scenes for the organizations that pays you a lump sum of money enough to sustain you and sometimes they will throw an extra to a job well done which you always do.

You can always use the referral for your services. The quietness of the warehouse didn't bother you much. It was once a quiet night to work in and you doubt there will be anyone after such bloodied mess. You only focused on scrubbing the dried blood from the dry floor and sweep the dust to conceal the scent of your special solution. It wasn't that pungent but it didn't hurt to be extra careful. Discretion was your specialty.

The OTTO encircles the area and the humming sound coming from it was the noise you can hear while you busy yourself. Halfway through when it got too quiet and your OTTO was missing. You stopped in your tracks.

You remained crouching with a brush in your hand as you raised your head. Listening to any telltale signs or noise that you're not entirely alone in this warehouse. Perhaps the heavy footsteps or a puff of breath. Anything that may harm you but nothing and you thought that maybe your OTTO malfunctioned since it was really a old model that you managed to salvage cause you can't still manage to upgrade it.

You were about to finish anyway and so scrubbed the floor a little harshly until the blood has separated from the floor before sweeping dust all over it before you walked towards where you hear your OTTO humming.

It was behind the crates, you can see your OTTO was blinking lights and was roughened in the edges with claw marks. The sight of your half destroyed companion send shivers down your spine. It feels like you were surrounded but when you look around there was nothing. You swallowed. Your hands inside the gloves were starting to moist. The pit of your stomach feels like sinking.

Something dangerous is near and you can't really pinpoint where it is. You try to balance it out. The pros and cons of leaving for your safety but your job was still not done. You couldn't really risk losing the source of your living in the N109 Zone and besides you faced fear many times before. What's the harm of risking another?

Deciding that you really can't leave your job, you grabbed your broken OTTO and decided that it really needs a replacement and it's been long and it should rest for being your companion for a long time. Still, seeing it destroyed pains you.

Now you have to manually check that they will be no evidence that you've been here after your OTTO’s broken.

A step and sudden jolt of uneasiness strikes you again. Raising your head, you caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette in the upper railings. The sound of flapping wings followed by a rather loud caw. Black feather slowly descending towards you and landing in your outstretched palm.

God, any minute now or seconds he will be appearing now.

Snap.

A swirl of black and red mist appears in front of you and just like that — your main love interest, leader of Onychinus and the one who rules the N109 Zone — Sylus stands before you.

Scared? Not really. You were blinking back tears because he was so close and your mind really decided to replay what he had gone through. Dying in the hands of his sorceress and not granting him death unless she allows it. Then, they found each other again. Both immortals dying in each other's arm and again, two children fighting to death and escaping to another planet and only to separate once again and he's here in front of you.

Standing tall and immaculate with the air of authority in his stature. Head held high and you can see the subtle glow of the Aether Core in his right eye. The reds of his eyes glimmer in the dim lit warehouse.

You take a step backwards, cradling your destroyed OTTO closer to you. Not daring to speak a word or look in his eyes.

“Just when I thought these fools has learned to be careful.” He muses. A faint smirk in his lips as he looks at you and the pile of dead bodies you were about to dispose behind.

“Maybe. I'm the only person here though. Cleaning out the mess.” You shrugged. Cradling your destroyed OTTO and walking towards your “cleaning van.” You gently put your companion in a crate before grabbing the brush again to continue cleaning. Wiping the sweat off in your forehead with the back of your arm.

Sylus remains silent. Following your every movement under his gaze about this person who was unintentionally ignoring him and going back to your job. Not even an ounce of fear behind those tired eyes. Were you feigning ignorance of the truth that you saved him? The leader of Onychinus and the feared man of the N109 Zone. That matter didn't seem to bother you.

“Do you know that when people save someone they expect something in return?” He began. Baiting the person in front of him for a favor. “It’s a chance for them to rise in this wasteland.”

“I’m managing.” You pragmatically answered even when your heart is beating fast cause you know secrets in this world and you really don't want to involve yourself with Sylus. You were living quietly and you badly want to get out of this world or maybe ask him to get you a identity to live in Linkon but that would raise suspicions cause why would you ask for a identity. It's either you're a criminal or someone who doesn't belong in this world.

He also didn't belong in this world but wherever MC is, he follows. A flower who still bloomed beautifully in a different soil.

His expensive cologne wafts in the air. His shoes scraping the dust in the floor. His coat swaying every movement and it's enough to intimidate you and you hope you're calm in the outside.

“Oh really.” His voice lowers into a timber and oh, it was really different from his secret times and tender moments, you want to squeal so bad if it wasn't for the implication that he's already smelling your bullshit.

“You want to go home. Why is that?” You swallowed. You cursed the goddamn Aether Core in his eye that can see the desire of someone. It's true. You've been wanting to go home since you got isekaid here.

“I’m not from here. Just a terrible luck.” You confessed under the intensity of his gaze but still withholding the secret you have. You're not easy to crack but Sylus can read you like an open book.

He hums in understanding. Not forcing you to give the details of your life cause he will be the one to know it. “I don't like the feeling of being indebted from someone below me.”

“You’re not indebted to me.” You briefly paused. Daring to steal a glance before focusing the task in your hand.

“My body choose to move that day when I could have run. I have no intention of saving you.” You say in a matter-of-factly. “I don't want to involve myself to someone powerful and if you feel indebted.” Swallowing the imaginary lump in your throat. “There is one thing you can do.”

You look at him straight in the eyes.

“Leave me alone.”

Sylus raises his eyebrows. He can't brush it off why you were so adamant not being involved with him when people got the leverage to do business or something simple as favor they rush but you — you were rushing to get out of his hair.

Leave you alone? There is really something wrong and Sylus sharp instincts knows better than to grant it. To call it quits. You were also calm and composed when facing him aside from the sudden beats of your heart that he can hear.

You didn't also run the moment he made his appearance which people usually do upon meeting him. Maybe is it because you know he can't harm you after saving him that one morning. N109 Zone wasn't really that barbaric and there's sliver of morals that are still practiced.

You can't kill someone unless they're the first to draw blood or unless it was contractual and the killing is ordered. Sylus has disposed people that betrayed him or were hindering his plans.

Besides you look amateur but Sylus isn't someone to really judge based on how you look. It was finding the value of someone and with some pressure you could be a coal turning into a pearl with the right pressure.

You didn't quite grasped how the N109 Zone works and you choose the job to clean the aftermath of every shootouts and doing the dirty work of disposing corpses. You were only surviving base on your skills and Sylus can use some of your talents.

“That would be impossible, dove.”

His eyes narrowing, clearly intrigued cause it was looking into a blank slate but is packed with so much color.

He can see how you freeze for a second. Hands trembling like you were hiding a secret and the next question confirms his suspicion.

“Who are you?” Ruby red eyes stares at you. Waiting for you to crack and this where Sylus would have normally put you in a gun point. Forcing you to reveal yourself but can you really? Will he believe you? That he was only a pixelated character in a game. A otome game that doomed you for loving him? Whereas you were supposed to be the MC, the player but when you saw your reflection you were just you.

Nothing special like the MC. Not a badass hunter. Not someone's childhood friend. Not someone's bride or a princess. Not a knight nor a queen. Not a sorceress who didn't allow her dragon to truly die and be destined together with every lifetime.

You were you. A regular human who didn't possess a extraordinary power. You were someone who was flawed. Trying to survive in a place that won't be merciful to someone weak.

“It’s none of your business.” Closing the doors of your van after hauling the dead bodies to dispose of with a loud thud. If you were somewhat decent you wouldn't have shown Sylus such hostility. You know what he's capable but being cornered by him — yeah — you should be squealing or be flustered cause it was Sylus, you were in no position because you were in a dire situation and your existence doesn't contribute to the storyline of this world, including MC and his.

You also can't really tell him you're from the other world. It might be catastrophic. You don't really want to stray from canon events and the first step is to stay away from Sylus.

You were about to open the door of your van to get away. You were an inch of pulling that handle until thin red and black mists coils around your wrist. Preventing you from moving your hand.

You look at him in disbelief. Scoffing as you try to pry the tendrils of his Evol wrapped around your wrist. “Really?” You take a step forward. “Is this how you treat people who disagrees with you!?”

Sylus remains nonchalant. Although there's a hint of amusement and curiousity behind his eyes. You weren't perturbed at all with his Evol but he can give you the benefit of the doubt. “Not really. Usually they end up dead.” His hand moves manipulating it to pull you.

“Assuring but can you let me go? I really don't want anything from you. Let just call it quits, please?” You pleaded. The sleeves of your varsity jacket crumples as you try again to get out of his grip. “I still have to finish my job.” Biting your lip anxiously as you desperately look at your van. The bodies are going to rot now before you can dispose of them.

“The twins can take care of it.”

“How can Luke—” Your eyes widens, biting your tongue at your slip up. You forgot that no one really knows what the twins names are except Sylus. They were his henchmen after all and a stranger — you was the final nail in the coffin.

“Interesting.” His lips curve into a smirk and you know what it means. “You and I are going to have a long conversation.” Giving you no room to retaliate or defend yourself. It was useless anyways, no one really escapes him and you hope that you can still get out. Alive.

The hallways were dark. The warm light of the wall sconces was the source of the light. You get the idea that Sylus is taking you to the dining room where he once eviscerated someone after a disagreement and finding the other person was trying to take both sides and Sylus does not like traitors.

You were walking behind him. His Evol long deactivated cause he knows you can't run even as you try to look around for possible escape routes and you really can't even you want too. His windows are a no-no. You don't want to plummet to your death from the top floor.

Sylus pushes the door. Inside were the sleek black marble top table with two candles lit in the candelabra. A deep red velvet chairs upholstered. Everything was Sylus's taste that you saw in his bond memories where he and MC stays. Your remember their little banters and how bossy he was.

It brings a smile to your face as you take the surroundings of the room. Luke and Kieran were probably wrecking your van. They were making you jobless in the Zone. You hoped that your van will still be returned in one piece.

“Sit.” He orders you and you complied without hesitation. Sylus can be impatient and being stubborn will probably get your neck choked. Settling in the chair, it was remarkably soft. You can't remember the last time you sat in something plush. Concrete stairs and crates in warehouses were your chair. The cold floor of the temporary base you set up covered with a old mattress was your bed.

Sylus stands behind the counter. Pulling glasses to pour a drink for himself and to you. “Let’s get started with a simple conversation.” The glass clinks as he puts on cubes of ice. “I ask you a question and you will answer me.”

“Okay.” He hears you murmur. Your posture was rigid. Legs bouncing out of nervousness in the chair. Chewing on your lips and your hands were hidden in the sleeves of your jacket like you were put in a straitjacket but he knows you were scratching your skin.

You were guilty as you look. Actions don't lie. Or maybe you were anxious. He got something to ease you up. “Here.” Nudging the glass in front of you. The amber liquid sloshing with the ice. You take it. He's probably making you loosen your tongue which is maybe going to work.

His eyes follows your movement. Bringing the glass of whiskey in your lips and your nose scrunches at the sharp aroma. He watch as you look at him before breaking eye contact and taking a swig of the drink and the reaction was immediate.

Sharp violent coughs shook your whole body. Your eyes watering as the liquid burned down your throat. You used your arm to cover your mouth while you coughed. God, what kind of humiliation the universe is putting you through and in front of Sylus.

“Who are you?” He began to question you and you glare at him. Wiping the corner of your mouth with the sleeve of your jacket. “A stranger.” Coughing up the last bits as you try to draw out the bitter taste.

You really don't want to lie but you were not in your world and you were afraid that you were going to disrupt the timeline of this story. You didn't want to be a huge spoiler or accidentally trigger a effect that will rip the balance of this world.

Sylus looks at you blankly. “What are you doing in the warehouse?”

“Trying to make a living. I can't survive here unless I do something.” Rubbing your knuckles in your eyes.

“Let’s get back to my former question. Who are you?” His voice are dripping with venom and you watch the subtle twitch of his hands and the next thing will be is he's blowing your head off.

“You want to know? I'm just some unfortunate soul who got here.” Pursing your lip in a thin line. Conflicted on how to process your emotions. You were scared, frustrated and angry. You shouldn't have saved him.

“And now you’re going to ask why I knew Luke and Kieran.” You paused for a bit. The confession is going to give you a headache. “You're a pixelated game character on my world.”

And the headache begun. He only raised his brows like you were just messing up with him. “I know how ridiculous it sounds but it's true.”

“You don't believe me? You're Sylus Qin. You're a wanted criminal in Philos and you escaped from Tartarus.” You began to explain. Legs bouncing anxiously with every tick of the clock. Sylus was practically a weapon ready to fire at any moment.

“Want to know more? You manipulated Miss Hunter to kill you when she was a sorceress and you were a dragon. You were ostracized from your own kind. You can't die unless she allows you to. You were also children too. Fighting to death in the arena with the other children and when it's down to both of you — you made the decision to escape and she did too but you two got separated.” ‎You revealed. “Is that enough?”

‎He didn't say anything else as if convinced. ‎“How did you end up here?”

‎“I don't know. I just woke up in the middle of the road.”

‎Sylus didn't press anything more. As far as he knows you're an anomaly.

‎”Can I leave now?” You asked. Thinking this interrogation is done and you really don't want to disrupt this world. Afraid that if you interfere some butterfly effect would activate and all of this world are going to be doomed. The plot was really important and every decision of the characters either make or break.

You waited for his response. Thinking of the van that are being used by the twins. You hoped that they know where to dump the bodies and your van isn't being banged up. The source of your income and means of survival rests on how they treat your van.

“I'm afraid that's not going to happen.”

“W-waa—what? Why!?” Eyes wide in disbelief. Your brows are raised and with the little shot of that alcoholic unnerved you in ways that you didn't know you can.

You look at him like you hit your head (which you already did by thunking your forehead in the top rail of your chair) and find that he's real ugly but he's not. He's hot. Infuriatingly hot. You can't count how many times you fantasize kissing Sylus and moisturize that dry lips of his.

You wanted that when he was on your screen and now, you're not, maybe a little. Get a grip! You tell to yourself but you dread about this — of not being able to leave. You're going to be in the front row and watch the world fuss about MC. The next days are going to be the start of her story with Sylus. Their first meeting.

“You're an anomaly in this world.”

Your heart drops. Of course, you're an anomaly. Sylus must have analyzed you or searched for your identity and to only find nothing.

“You know a lot about of things going around here and I can't have you running around with that kind of information.” He reasons, taking a step towards you.

“I'm basically a NPC in this world. I don't see the relevance of me being here.” You counter. Pressing your forehead in the back of the chair because you really didn't want to be involved with him.

“What if I say, I don't want to?”

“You really don't have a choice here, kitten.”

“Fuck.” You muttered, running our reasons to use. “I have a job around here. I can't have you bossing me around. I won't also ask for a compensation.” Referring to your destroyed OTTO and your van that is going to be thrashed by the twins. You can always start. You survived your first day and managed to live this long.

Sylus can see the reluctance in you. Mixed with the desperation of not wanting to get involved with him. He's a dangerous man. Money isn't really a problem for him and he can get you a nice place to live and a brand new van and the latest OTTO catered to your needs. When in reluctance, give them the assurance.

“Is cleaning up dead bodies and blood that fun?” Your eyes flickers towards him. “Not really but it keeps my stomach full and meets my basic needs. Shelter I have plenty.” Rubbing your arm in an attempt to comfort yourself. Eyes a little droopy and your lips curled into a frown.

Living in the N109 Zone with no means of being the strong was your struggle. It was life or death for you.

“I have a proposal.” When you can't convince someone, you put the stakes higher. Sylus continues as he noticed you tilt your head. Interested at the proposal he was about to make.

“You will be provided everything you need. You shall never starve or work for your food. I will give you shelter. You can hole up in one of the rooms here. I have plenty. You will have a identity you desire. A clean slate for you to start somewhere new.”

“That's preposterous for someone like you, Sylus.” Shaking your head as you try to think about what to do before looking back at him. “I can't be near you. I'm a walking spoiler.” You swallowed as if there's something stuck in your throat.

“If information is what you want of future events, I can't tell you about it. I won't disrupt the natural order of this world.” Pulling your jacket and standing up. Putting back the chair in its right place.

“The only mistake I did was to save you.”

“Is that so?” He hums.

Thinking of what he should do about you. “Such trivial matters don't bother me. You're not really disrupting anything and I won't ask for information.” You can see the brief flicker of light passing through his right eye where the Aether Core is placed.

“Work for me. You'll get more benefits than what you wished for.”

He watched as you hesitate. You will still have a choice with the proposal he suggested. You are free to operate around his area and maybe he'll take you as a secretary. It's unlikely you'll betray him. You're smart for your own good to betray as someone powerful like him.

It didn't take long for a few seconds for you to decide.

“Fine.”

The smirk on his face grew wider.

You gave the arrangement six months.

It shouldn't be too long or less. You wanted Sylus to make it shorter because any time soon or any day, he and MC will cross paths and even you wanted to witness their long-awaited reunion — you just can't.

Because what kind of bullshit of people telling you that you are MC in your world and to find out you were the anomaly in this world even you accepted it that you really can't be MC with the game having her life determined and the routes of the story written. MC may have your face in the game but you can never be her.

It sounds bitter but this was your reality. You're not about to witness their love when you have a life to live. A few months staying under his base is the thing you have to live through. You didn't understand why Sylus has to take you under his wing.

You did say you weren't tell him about the future happenings or any information that will about to happen. Probably he's getting bored and what's a little fun to observe a anomaly for his entertainment.

That's your sentiment but you know Sylus isn't that cruel to treat you as one. He may have his reasons and you will never know any of it.

The least you can do is stay put until there's a change of events. It's a matter of time before the story line of the game will start to happen and when MC has grown curious about the N109 Zone and Sylus.

The Onychinus base was huge. Well, huge is an understatement. It's a whole fricking building and despite that doing nothing means you're penniless. Sylus did tell you that the commodities in the building are free to use but a week after almost exploring the whole base — you found yourself restless.

You've been on the run the moment you were transported in this world. Always thinking for ways to survive. Hustling to get by and earn that money that was essential for your job and puts a food in your table. You were always on the lookout for jobs that needs your specialty. It's pay per transaction and you take pride in your work.

Abandoning your livelihood means abandoning your security. There was no discussion about it between you and Sylus even he did say you will work for him, there was really nothing about the job description and you hate to think you were freeloading to him.

So you did what you know best — accepting a clean up job. The pay was huge. The bigger the money they offer the messier and complicated it was but you didn't care. Money is money. You take the keys of the van Sylus owed you after the twins has trashed it like you expected.

You begin to drive towards your destination after picking up a new stash of cleaning supplies you have hidden in one of your hideouts.

The building wasn't that ruined when stepped out of your van. It changed by the times and the lack of maintenance made it unsuitable for moving.

You began to unload the supplies from your bag. Securing the roll of plastic wraps and duct tapes. A makeshift cart that contains all of your cleaning materials with some strong chemical that's enough to knock someone out when inhaled.

The scene that greeted you were something out of a horror film or some sci-fi you used to watch back in your world.

Bloody was the least you will used to describe the scene. It was beautiful. If you can ignore the lifeless bodies impaled with ice spikes. The paleness of the blues of ice mixes with the red. Creating a almost whimsical look like a blood red moon.

You guessed that you find anything as visceral as this normal after cleaning up places. Murder with the use of Evol wasn't unheard of, you've clean plenty of it and disposed mutilated bodies that was almost beyond recognition. You've also thrown bodies or parts of one in a single trash bag.

Time is the essence and even with the structured ice Evol, it was starting to melt and when ice are thawed — everything's going to be bloody from here and so you began to take your trusty lightsaber-esque equipment that's good for cutting through metal, bones and of course, ice. As long they're solid it gets the job done.

The smell didn't even bother you. It was like meat that you left to defrost and forgot to take it out for cooking and it starts to go bad. It's worse for you the first time but the fear of not being able to survive gets you out of that disgust.

Pressing the button of your tool, it shortly crackles — bursts and emits a bright orange glow and then you start to cut through flesh and bone.

It's good to know that you're still capable.

After that work and clean up, you were done for the day, night. You still didn't regulate your sleeping hours even with the comfortable place Sylus provided for you at the base and paired with restlessness.

Driving back to Onychinus base made you uneasy, sure you move places to places and sometimes settled for months but a month in Sylus's base didn't feels like something you can live with. You were grateful but coming back to the base is still unfamiliar territory for you.

Attachment creates dangerous conflicting feelings and having known danger and how powerful attachment can be — you ignored.

It's the reason why you keep the interaction to Sylus minimal except when it's necessary and you can't avoid him without being too obvious.

You surely can't start catching feelings for him even he's your main love interest in the real world and when he's a game character. But how about when he's real and you're near him? That you can hear his voice, can touch him and talk to him? Can you not really fall in love? And there's MC.

But it's difficult when you're in his world and living in his base where any chance you can bump into him and it happened the moment you were about to retreat in your room. The hallways were big but it connects to everything.

You were about to turn when you almost bump into Sylus. The familiar outfit that he almost dons everyday in your home screen is what he wore. "Hey." You awkwardly greeted him. Gripping the hem of your sweatshirt that reeks with the scent of blood and chemicals for cleaning.

"I thought you might have escaped.”

Liar. He knows where you are and he knows your circumstances. You can't leave him. Not yet.

“As you can see, I can't. I'm powerless.” You murmur.

There's a moment of awkward silence but it might be you until Sylus broke it.

“Care to join me for lunch, dove?”

You didn't know why Sylus started to call you dove but maybe he was referring you to one like the dove MC rescued and was put in his care temporarily in the Nightplumes card. It didn't happen yet but the cards are connected to the future events after their meeting.

You refused. “No, thank you. I'm not really—” Your stomach betrays you, growling like you haven't eaten for days. “— hungry.” You finished to say with your cheeks burning hotly from embarrassment.

Sylus chuckles and you badly want to jump out outside the window and plummet to your death.

“Do you really find me insufferable?” He asks, his eyes narrowing although there's a lilt.

“Insufferable? No. I don't find you like that or anything.” He's many things but insufferable. You mumble, concealing the expressions that might show in your face as your brain panics.

“Good. It would be a bad thing if my guest finds me intolerable.”

Turns out Sylus has already set up the table in the terrace. His chef, you meet him the second day in your stay in Sylus's base and asked you what you wanted to eat. The Onychinus leader told you that you have permission to use the kitchen or ask the chef whatever you felt like eating.

You absolutely remember the terrace it was shown in the kindle of his first myth card where he taught MC on how to improve her combat skills. Knowing the terrace part of the base is where Sylus sometimes took his meals.

If you did suddenly get back home, you have a lot of things to brag as you take your sit across "Boss-man Sylus."

It's not like everyday is an opportunity to share a table with Sylus, the most desired love interest in your world.

“How was your work today?”

“Grotesque but it's nothing that I can't handle.” You shrugged, taking your cutlery and mimicking Sylus's gesture as he began to eat.

You have quite the appetite despite the scene earlier. Your stomach has gotten thick overtime as you took that line of work.

"I assume someone has gone rouge.”

“If you would put it that way.”

He hums. Gently twirling the glass of wine and the red liquid sloshed inside of it. He takes a sip before resuming on his meal. You had done the same and the taste of wine made your taste buds burst into these tiny quantities of flavors you can taste.

Amusement glimmers in Sylus's eyes. Watching you taste something that you're not accustomed to. You told him that back in your world you have a job that covers your expenses and an extra for some indulgence.

Your indulgence was getting all his cards.

“Do you find your room comfortable?” He pries.

“Yes, thank you.” You whispered. Meeting his gaze to show how sincere you are. You missed having a real bed not the make shift beds you have to temporarily sleep with.

“You really didn't need to spend much on me. I'm not staying that long.” Reminding him of your arrangement.

Sylus chuckles. “I'm not the one to forget, dove.” Leaning on his chair and crossing his legs. “You plan to go back in your job?” His eyes narrows at you.

“Maybe. I didn't really asked you about the details when you said that I'm working for you.” You told him. Putting your fork down cause you know where this conversation is being headed.

“How about as my secretary?” He says without a beat. The way he says it was the same as he speaks in the game and you would have accepted it within a heartbeat if it wasn't for the position you are in.

“Me?” You asked, hoping you misheard it or your ears was playing tricks. “Your secretary? You don't even know me that much to be entrusted with that kind of work.”

“I don't need to know what kind of person you are.”

“I know you're not the one to make stupid decisions and I'm not going to doubt your judgement but even I am an anomaly in this world there's a chance that I will betray you.” You say, gripping the table cloth. Well, there's no betrayal that's going to happen but it was an excuse and a reason not to get closer to him.

Sylus smirks. You can see the amusement flickering all over his eyes at what you said. You were getting more interesting as the seconds pass and Sylus likes who he deemed interesting.

“People who plan to betray me don't tell me they're betraying me. You’re selling yourself short, dove.” He pauses, crossing his legs underneath the table while he waits for your response.

He can see that you were still torn and hesitating.

“Take this offer and I'll make sure it will be worthwhile for the both of us.”

Is what he said and now, you're thinking that doomsday is already ahead in the game with you interfering. You hope that Sylus stays canon with MC and the original plot still intact.

Sabo 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

Sabo was training alone, just some simple combat moves — shirtless and sweaty. Blonde hair sticking to his face as he moves across the field.

He was heaving at the end of it, wiping his chin, and just when his little break was over, he spots you from the corner of his eye.

Sabo instantly brightens up at the sight of you, grinning and hand going up to wave you over but before he knew it—you were already half way closer, and when he blinks—you’re plunging into his chest.

Arms slung over his shoulders, as you practically anchor him into an embrace.

He didn’t even have the chance to comprehend the gesture before he feels your lips on his neck.

Making him flinch, grabbing onto your shoulders and just stares at you dumbfounded.

“Woah now, what’s all this? You okay—”

You blink. Then you tiptoe up and kiss his cheek.

Sabo doesn’t move. He just shuts up as you grab his face, kiss the corner of his lip, chin, jaw, his brows and eyelids—everywhere and anywhere, you attack him with your kisses.

Lipstick marks all over his face.

And he just stares like an idiot when you finish.

Your face all shy and grinning, grabbing his hands into yours, bringing them to your chest.

“Sabo.”

“Y-yeah..?”

He just keeps staring, neck going red.

“Don’t you want to kiss me back?”

Sabo blinks. Lips parting. “I—”

What is going? Did someone take over your body? And why are you extra pretty today? Something isn’t right here, but that spare second of assessment, that delay in an answer makes you frown. Letting go of his hands, moving away.

“Too late. I’m out. Have fun training alone, buddy—”

He catches your wrist, and hauls you right back in.

Hands going on the small of your back, bringing you closer to him.

Your legs all intertwined, your chests pressed into one another as he makes you look at him.

He leans in, just enough to catch the warmth of his breath on your face, his forehead grazing yours. And your cheeks burn at the sight of him.

He’s grinning sly and mean—and when Sabo gets like that—you can’t help but go completely dumb in the head.

“Want me to kiss you? Yeah? If you want it so badly then tell me why you’re all clingy today.” His lips inches near yours, but they never land—and you feel how he squeezes you up into him by the ass.

You tiptoe in for the kiss but Sabo keeps moving away, not fully, but just enough to tease.

“Sabo—”

“Tell me.”

And you hitch your breath when you feel his crotch.

What a mean jerk.

You pout. “Cause’ I missed you, that’s all.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

And he smiles, all boyish and teasing.

“I missed’ you too.” And he’ll show you that, by pressing his mouth onto yours, lips mushing into one another and you smile into it.

He has one hand on your back, the other in your hair. Tilting you deeper into kiss.

Congrats. You’re not leaving the training grounds any time soon.

Donquixote Rosinante "Corazon" 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

Corazon was sizzling some veggies by the stove. Pink apron tied around his waist as he fixes today’s dinner for both of you.

And he hears the kitchen door creak open.

“Soon love, I’ll just sauté these and then dinner will be—”

You wrap your arms around his waist, lean your face against his spine.

And he halts.

Breath caught in his ribs as he watches the vegetables turn toast.

“Er…” Corazon looks over his shoulder, where he’ll find you rubbing your cheek against his back. Small and little compared to him.

“Is everythin’ okay? Did something happen—”

You press your face harder against him and he turns rigid. Back arching.

He turns the stove off.

Slowly, awkwardly, he goes to face you and you just leech right back onto him. Face buried into his abs, taking in the scent of him.

You look up, face all mushed into him and he turns bright pink at the sight of your face.

Damn. Okay. You’re pretty, too pretty.

It’s turning him stupid.

“Cora…” You mumble out, fisting his shirt.

“Y-yeah? What is it gorgeous?”

“Why aren’t you touching me?”

And he blinks. He didn’t even notice it but his hands are hovering above your hips.

Too flustered to know where to place them.

“Y-you want me too—?”

You frown. And he presses his lips, swallowing.

What a stupid question.

Of course you want him to touch you.

Corazon places his large hands on your hips, and you press yourself closer to him.

His thigh going inbetween yours and you hear him hold in a whine when you kiss chest, lean your cheek against his ribs.

“Is it okay if we eat later? I want to feel you just a bit longer.”

At that, his shoulders slumps.

Chuckling just a little, before easing into you.

“Yes. Anything you want, my gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”

Buggy the Clown 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

The so called Genius Jester is slumped over his sofa, circling his wine goblet as he grumbles, “Stupid-crocodile-smug-looking-bastard” (or something to that affect) and that’s how you’ll find him.

He doesn’t shift his head, just from your footsteps alone he knows it’s his gorgeous, majestic, piece of honeycakes walking in.

And he thinks you’re here to scold him too, his chin sinking.

“If you’re here to to call me dumb and lazy and annoying as well, then I—”

Your steps are fast, hard—plunging against the floor boards as you cast yourself over his shoulders. Face pressed into his spine and Buggy, freezes.

You snuggle your face in between his shoulder blades.

Rubbing. Pressing.

Taking in his scent… he smells like cake. And sprinkles. And just a little bit of canon fodder.

You want more of it, more of him.

And Buggy blinks. Twice. Before glancing to you.

“Er… did I…. uh… Is this a test?… Are you mad—”

“Buggy.” You hum, your voice hot against his spine, and just when he’s about to answer, do you kiss his back. Trailing kisses all over him and you feel a shiver running down his skin before you make it to the nape of his neck.

Your breath warm, turning him flushed. “I missed you Bug’, I missed you so much.”

He flinches. Breath caught.

Is this a seduction tactic? Or a trap? Whatever it is, it’s making him go stupidly red, face steaming even.

You lean in from behind, your lips skimming over his earlobe.

“Do you miss me, Buggy?”

“I…Uh…. I— yeah! I mean, of course I do!” He stammers out, shifting his head to you, his red nose grazing yours, meeting your smile. And he combusts.

Melting like an ice cone in desert heat.

“B-but where is this coming from, gem? You’re suddenly all over me—WHICH I LOVE—but erm… y’know.”

You only hum in response, manoeuvring into the sofa, and in between his legs. Nestling yourself right above his lap, face into his neck.

“I just want to be near you, just this once, please?”

His throat is flaring fire against your cheek, you even hear his heart drum from underneath.

And you resist not teasing him for it.

Instead you grab onto his chest, fisting his clothes and relax into his warmth.

And slowly, carefully, his hands makes it to your back, pressing you closer to him.

Placing his chin above your head.

“Sure….I wouldn’t mind if you missed me more often gem.” He mumbles, and you kiss his neck. Just a little.

Yeah, this is going to be a loooong night for both of you.

Eustass "Captain" Kid 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

Kid was polishing up some gear — adjusting, fixing, and screwdriver in hand.

That’s how you will find him, cross legged and posture bent.

He doesn’t even turn to face you when he hears you trudge inside.

“Tch, better not be here to nag about snacks, cause I ain’t budgin’ till I got this fixed—” he freezes, screwdriver screeching against metal when he feels your chest slumped over his enormous back. He’s rigid beneath you. Hard. Stiff. As if unable to breathe.

And you lean your cheek against his shoulder blade, hands travelling up his chest—feeling him, touching and caressing him. His warmth radiating into your chest, and you cling onto him harder.

“Oi.”

You nestle your face into his back.

“Oi.”

You rub your cheek against him.

“Oi…”

You place a kiss on the back of his biceps and he flinches, snapping his gaze onto you.

Face burning, cheeks all pink and flustered and you try not to laugh.

“What’s gotten into ya!?” He practically yells out, “You think you’re going to get snacks by actin’ like a little kitten; you’re wrong—”

You lean in, and shut him up with a kiss on the cheek.

And that’s what you do.

You kiss, kiss, kiss and kiss him all over the face until you’ve stunned the vocab out of him.

Your hands are still pressed on his pecs, breasts still pushed against his spine and he goes completely steam red.

“Baby,” you hum and your voice is low, almost pleading, and it makes him tense. Warmth forming up his chest. “I missed you. I missed you so much today.” You bury your cheek against his sturdy shoulder, eyes closing. “I want to be near you, is that okay?” You look up, “Or are you too busy?”

And your angry oversized tomato just stares, teeth gritted and cheeks all flushed. His ears too.

Kid clicks his tongue, “Whatever. Do as you please.”

He says that, but his posture eases, shoulders slumps and his heart beating a little bit too fast for his liking.

He won’t admit it, but he wouldn’t mind it if you missed him a little bit more often.

Aokiji Kuzan 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

Kuzan was napping.

Snoring on the sofa to be exact.

It was dead in the night when you tiptoed in. Blanket wrapped around you like a warm fuzzy burrito, in search for cuddles.

“Kuzan?”

No response. Just a snore. And you inch near.

He has a sleep mask on, and his hands are folded over his chest. Chest going up… then down.

You press your lips, manoeuvring above him. Placing your ear where his heart sits, and when you sink your weight into him, only then do you hear the snoot bubble pop.

Hand going to his sleep mask, making a small gap with his thumb to take a peek and when he sees you? He blinks himself awake.

“Oh?” Kuzan tries to sit himself up but when you lock your thigh around his waist, tight, firm—does he freeze. “This is a first.”

you hum. “Go back to sleep.” And you rub your face into his chest. “I like this spot.”

A sweat droplets makes it to his cheek, a corner of his lip turning up. His large hand placing it above your hair. Slow, faint, as if careful to not provoke your change of mind.

“Everythin’ alright? Nothing’s buggin you?”

You shake your head, looking up to him.

Face all shy and mischievous, making him tense.

And when you lean in, crawling up his abdomen, the grinding of each others bodies forces him still, hands hovering above your ribs as you come closer. Placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Just for tonight, Kuzan’, just for tonight—so enjoy it.” There is a giggle in your tone, a tease almost, and you sink back down. Head nested in the crook of his neck and Kuzan lets out a scoff.

Easing back into the sofa, larger hands landing on your back.

Bringing you close.

“Since you insist then,” he cups your head. His finger drawing slow, faint caresses over your back. Kissing the top of your head. “don’t mind me.”

You two lay like that till morning comes, calm, safe — lousing. And maybe, just maybe, when his most lonesome hours hits—he’ll think of this moment, of you, and the warmth of your chest.

a journalist comes up to him with a hot topic, and the question blurs in your ears the moment you heard the journalist ask. "rising athlete itoshi sae, the people are asking: is there or is there not a girl behind the scenes?"

sae doesn't answer instead he just looks at the journalist with a stoic expression on his face, intimidating the writer.

and upon not having any answers, the journalist puts matters into their own hands. "okay, you get it guys? silence means... no!"

wasn't it the other way around?

"you heard it girls and guys, rising athlete itoshi sae is single!"

the reporter had easily twisted sae's actions. the camera swiftly switches to the next public figure adjacent to sae leaving him no choice but to accept the fact that he fucked up.

perhaps his choice to stay quiet in hopes that the reporter second guesses his decision to ask him such a private question was wrong. perhaps, privacy isn't such a big deal in social media today.

sae subtly rolls his eyes before ushering his manager to the mini bar station where the party was offering cocktails, in hopes to relieve his stress.

unfortunately for you, the video online ends where the journalist announces that rising star itoshi sae is single.

your eyebrows furrow, ears hearing a deafening silence when the video goes off. your eye twitches as soon as you open the comment section. thousands of fans commenting as if they're going to secure a spot next to the itoshi sae.

you knew what you were signing up for when you began dating sae. but you never expected that fame would take him from you this fast.

the denial, the non-committal effort to correct the journalist all point out to how sae's slowly getting farther and farther from you. and the fact that he's never home these days doesn't help.

maybe it was wishful thinking that this relationship could last.

or maybe you're just thinking too much into it for your overthinking mind to bear.

you don't know what it is that fills you. is it sorrow or is it your temper slowly seeping out of you? that, you cannot know for sure right now.

nonetheless, you can't bring yourself to scroll down the comments any further. there's a clutch in your chest and it gets tighter with every passing moment that your eyes skim over the fan commentary of the video.

the house is surrounded with white noise as you try to get your mind off of it. you clean, you read, you watch tv. anything that doesn't include holding your phone you did already. because once your fingers are wrapped around your phone, you'd be consumed by the need to check the video again.

that night, sae comes home clad in his black slacks and a plain white tee. seems like he had the time to change outfit before coming home to you.

the front door opens and your heart skips a beat from where you were eating in the dining area. you swallow a lump but you remain composed, acting as though you're not about to give sae the most gut wrenching silent treatment.

there's a thud in the floor, signalling that sae had put his bags down with little to no effort. the shoes in the front door scratch the wooden floor and it's all so loud. all of the sudden, you're hyper conscious of every little sound that emits from every corner of the house.

"i'm home." he calls out from the living area. his steps are light as he traverses the bridge between the living and dining area, looking for you.

he spots you sitting on the dining table munching on a dessert bowl you prepared yourself. sae looks around, searching for signs of food but he sees nothing except your dessert bowl.

he stands at the edge of the dining table, plants his palms on them and peers down at you. "you're not eating proper dinner?" he assumes already and you feel ticked by it.

normally, you'd be used to sae's small sessions of scolding you for not eating your meals properly but this one particular time you're kind of pissed off to hear him scold you.

your eyebrows furrow but you don't speak just yet.

"hey," he calls out again. "answer." there's that stern tone he uses when he's berating you for not taking care of yourself.

but really, this time, he's just annoying you and your perfectly curated dessert bown of nothing but sweet goodness and one speck of fruit.

when he realizes that you don't have any plans on responding, he scoffs out an offended huff. tossing his head to the side to avoid looking at you with an exasperated expression. he licks his lips wet before pushing himself off of the table.

"i've got no energy to deal with this, [name]." he dismisses it altogether easily, and your lips turn downwards into a frown when you hear the door to your shared room slam close loudly.

you don't acknowledge yourself for being petty because you remember the video again.

you bite onto your dessert with gritted teeth, upset with the fact that he dismisses you like that after denying you on public television.

it's not like you two ever agreed to keep this all a secret, so why is he acting like you're some sort of forbidden treasure he's got to keep a secret from the world?

you value your privacy really, but to be denied is another thing. especially when it's inviting wandering eyes into the situation because sae is, without mistake, a public figure. it is wrong to want him to be yours and yours alone only?

you roll your eyes to yourself, slamming the wooden spoon onto the empty bowl before harshly standing up and hearing the seat screech against the tiles. your actions are now reflecting your unquiet insecurity that your overthinking mind brought you.

the harsh slam echoes against the thin walls of the house and it reaches your shared room to where sae is currently in, dressing out of his clothes to wear comfortable ones.

he hisses in the sharpness of it and wonders what's got you in such a mood.

he turns the doorknob with the same intensity, the oak door flying open as he searches for your to ask what's going in but he finds no sign of you.

he furrows his eyebrows in frustration but he hears the sink in the bathroom run in gentle current and his mind settles again, at ease to know you haven't left the house.

he's restless. the fact that you haven't spoken a word to him ever since he came back from work has had him at his wit's ends. and all of the sudden, he's got no courage to open up a random topic to you and yap about his day because your demeanor has intimidated him.

at the end of the day, itoshi sae is still your long term partner who has surrendered his strong front in exchange for intimacy and vulnerability that is exclusive to you and only you.

the evening drives by fast and in the blink of an eye, sae is laid on the bed, staring up to the ceiling with coldness emitting from beside him. your side of the bed is empty, and sae's all so aware of this.

last time he had seen you was when you were busying yourself with your monitor back in the living area. he washed up hoping you'd be ready for bed the moment he's out but no.

he's done with everything and yet, you're still outside the bedroom. indulged in whatever work that's keeping you occupied. with one lamp turned on in a warm setting and the bright light from your monitor, the entire house is shrouded in darkness except in your small work corner where you stay, refusing to speak or acknowledge his presence.

now that he's settled in this oddly spacious bed, his thoughts are rowdy in the quiet calmness of his solitude.

he can't help but think about it. why is his usually bubbly girlfriend refusing to acknowledge his presence? or is he thinking too much into it and you're merely too busy to even bat an eye.

sae's patience wears thin.

the next morning comes around fast. sae closes his eyes and the next when he's opening them, he's met wit the bright light of dawn and an empty space beside him. his alarm goes off a few moment after he wakes up.

seems like the strangely cold ambiance of the room drove him to open his eyes and be met with no source of warmth beside him.

he groans when he realizes that you're really nowhere to be seen in your supposed shared room. the usually warm morning he wakes up is non-existent. he runs a hand through his hair, frustration slowly building up.

but sae's got no idea how to cope. does he willingly commit to whatever you're pulling and just let you be? or does he put in effort to coax out whatever the problem is going on with you that is getting in the way of your relationship?

he's in a slump.

nonetheless, he doesn't act on it immediately. he decides to wait until you break out of your bratty character that refuses to recognize his on going frustration.

he gets ready for the day after checking his packed schedule. he thinks for a moment while buttoning up the shirt he decided to wear.

does he tell you about the schedule and be ignored? or does he stay quiet and play along with whatever's wrong with you and let his frustration build even further?

sae's dilemma continues.

up until he's munching on a piece of bread he toasted himself because you're too occupied with your work for the day to even bat him an eye and offer that you cook up something quick so that he doesn't tire himself throughout the day for not eating the most important meal of the day.

he's getting tired.

he watches you by the kitchen island. leaning against the marble furniture, lips wet with water that he drank, eyes studying as you squirm in your reclining chair, looming over the data on your monitor.

he becomes all hyperconscious of what your wearing and how you're perched up on the recliner chair that he bought you. a thin oversized shirt draped over your figure with nothing underneath it. the shirt settles gently just beneath the flesh of thighs and he gets a peek when you place your legs onto the chair.

he looks away immediately. throat closing in and his jaw tightening. he tosses the glass onto the sink, running water over it as he leans lazily against it. his lips are pursed together tightly.

he leaves the kitchen, goes around towards the living room, grabs a coat from the rack and hangs it over one shoulder.

"i'm going to work." he calls out while putting on his shoes. "be back before dinner." he reminds but you don't listen.

he waits by the doorway for a while, an irk mark appearing on his forehead when he realizes that you’re not paying any attention to him again.

you stay focused on your work. or at least, you tried to.

you heave out a sigh when an unfamiliar data comes across your screen. you lean back and the chair reclines, you cross your arms over your chest and you think about how to manage this.

the house is suddenly quiet. you wonder if sae’s gone to work. so you look around. slowly turning your chair to see if everything’s safe. but that’s where it goes downhill.

when you turn around, you’re met with sae standing in front of you and your eyes meet for the first time since last night. he looks down on you as if you’ve wronged him, and for a fraction of second, you feel so small. the way he towers over you is intimidating, not to mention the way his one hand is settled on his hip.

he’s mad, and it’s evident in his gaze.

you bite back your shame, trying to recover by turning back around but that just made everything even worse.

one hand firmly lands on your chair’s arm rest and you’re quick to be rotated back to face him. this time, sae’s leaning down. crouching down to stare at you at an eye’s level.

your eyes meet his immediately. but it doesn’t take you long to regain composure and you remember what he’s done so your head turns to the side at light speed, avoiding his gaze altogether.

sae rolls his eyes at your pathetic move to avoid his gaze.

his free hand moves and the next thing you realize is him holding you by your chin, forcing you look back at him. his grip is harsh, the frustration he’s feeling is evident with the way that it’s undeniably firm.

you look up at him with furrowed eyebrows and a bratty look. he scoffs at this. but that’s all he does before going in for a rough kiss.

he’s moulding his lips with yours, inserting his tongue in between when he notices your lips are slightly agape from surprise. your eyes are wide while his are staring back at you with nothing but rage. but the way that you’re not doing a lot to fight against his kiss tells him that you’ve been waiting for this too.

so instead of pulling away to give you time to breathe, he pulls you in even further. you almost choke with the way that he’s kissing you with so much heat. it makes you look pathetic but he knows you so well that he’s got a kiss memorized to the way that it makes you moan out in satisfaction.

when he hears you, he immediately pulls away. and you’re left with swollen lips when he pushes you against the chair’s back. your eyebrows furrow and he knows that he left you unsatisfied when he pulled away so suddenly when you’ve just begun enjoying it.

“don’t know what’s gotten you so upset but don’t go depriving me of my kisses, yeah?”

he says that and he leaves for work.

you roll your eyes when he waves a mocking goodbye before leaving.

the door shuts close and you’re left alone with the deafening silence of the house. whatever you’re doing it frustrating not only him, but you too.

and you only realize it when your lower extremities starts pulsating with the way that he kissed you just now. and to edge you with an unfinished make out session? you start questioning if this is still worth the act.

you recline your chair to the maximum, groaning with the way your body is tingling with the unsatisfied feeling of having your desires unmet with the man that you love. there’s a frown on your lips and an on going heat forming underneath your panties.

the hand on your face slowly makes its way to your neck and you hear yourself breathing heavily when everything else is so silent. your monitor hums softly and your chest heaves up and down in a slow tempo.

your fingers begin to tease your buds. you bite down onto your lips when one finger begins to rub your nipple. your eyes close as you begin fondling your breast, and the need to have sae’s tongue circling your nipple grows stronger with every rub you do to yourself.

you’re torturing yourself. and it gets even more painful when your free hand starts to trace down your hips and to your clothes pussy. your panties are soaked and your finger starts to circle on the wet patch.

your shame is non-existent when you put your panties to the side to have your slender fingers make contact with the wet result of your sexual frustration.

your lips are agape when you let your fingers rub against the entrance of your soaking pussy. the friction feels insane to you, and it leaves you wanting more. you speed up and you feel a tight knot forming in your lower stomach. but it’s not enough.

your nails graze the insides of your sensitiveness. and it feels surreal. it doesn’t take long before your impatience gets the best of you and you begin pumping your two digits in and out. there’s a wet sound resonating through the living room and you can’t hear anything else except it—not even your muffled moans because you have your lips in between your teeth.

you can’t help but echo out sae’s name when your fingers are speeding up. but it’s nowhere near the speed and the length of sae’s fingers. it doesn’t quite reach the good spot that leaves you empty in the head.

so when you come, it feels unfinished. your hands are soaked with your cum and everything else.

it’s nasty. the view of you with your fingers tucked inside your pussy and the other hand fondling your breast. your lips agape, saliva dripping down on one corner.

oh what would sae say.

the front door clicks open and there’s shuffling. you swallow a lump, turning a page of your book, trying to act all nonchalant with your boyfriend’s arrival from work at a rather early time.

you want to ask him why’s home so early but you can’t bring yourself to speak with him without thinking about how he has denied you on national television.

“i’m back.” he calls out and expects a reply but still nothing so he huffs out when he realizes you’re still on this silent treatment game that is making him look desperate and pathetic.

sae enters the living area and sees you by the couch, occupied with a book. you wore an oversized shirt and very short shorts underneath that if not seen in view, one would mistake you as half-naked.

he places his bag on the table. “what have you been up to all day?” he asks, attempting small talk. “reading books?”

but nothing.

and there’s no more of sae’s patience.

“alright,” he starts. voice dropping an octave. “why are you so upset? you don’t even speak to me anymore.” he calls out and your heart skips a beat, realizing that he’s talking about it.

but he doesn’t get it. he doesn’t know why you’re so upset and somehow, that made you even more upset.

you don’t answer again. “hey.” he perks his head up. “i’m talking to you?” his voice is sarcastic now, offended with the way that you’re really committed to this silent treatment shit.

there’s a moment of silence before your book suddenly leaves your hand. he slams the book onto the glass table and his bag tumbles down. alarmed with the way he’s acting, you push yourself back against the couch but he doesn’t let you.

he catches your ankle and pulls you back in. he puts his arm beneath your knee and the other on your back, he hoists you off the couch with almost zero effort and you’re left limply trying to get off of him but his tight hold against you made it hard.

he stomps across the living room and he reaches the front door of your shared room. he kicks it open with one foot and pushes it forward.

upset, he tosses you onto the bed and you bounce against the mattress. you immediately crawl back until your back it against the bed rest but again he doesn’t let you. he pulls you back onto the edge and your legs are on either side of his hips now.

“still not gonna tell me?”

he stares down at you as if to make you feel dumb. you feel small under him, and it doesn’t help when he puts a hand beside you and he leans in making you fall flat on your back. the distance slowly disappears and the next second he’s talking directly to your face.

his breath fans your nose, “what’s up?” he raises an eyebrow, licks his lips and you catch the way his eyes travel down to your reddened cheeks and lips.

there’s a slow silence in between now when sae falls silent. he’s gazing down to every inch of whatever is in front of his view—the entirety of your beautiful face and your perked up nipples beneath the thin oversized shirt you’re wearing.

you grows equally frustrated. “come on, baby.” he whimpers and the desperation is obvious with the way he’s trailing his words.

his head hangs low and you can’t see his expression anymore. next thing you know is he’s leaning down onto your neck. his hand searching for yours before he bites down onto the flesh of your skin. it’s harsh and his teeth dig into your skin, desperate that he marks you.

you wince and your eyes close in pleasure. there’s now a red mark on your neck and he licks over it to ease the pain that he has inflicted on you. he apologizes lowly before moving to the other side and kiss the upper part of your neck just below your jaw.

you crane your neck to the side unconsciously, giving him more space to kiss all over your vulnerable neck. his tongue traces down a trail of saliva and he bites down on the flesh part of your neck again. he sucks against it, lapping on it and when he releases, there’s a bruise.

“tell me.” the hums out, his throat vibrating against your skin and he continues to mark you. he goes down to your collarbone, biting down to every fleshy part he comes across. not even minding if it can’t be covered.

you shake your head. squirming under him, “can’t tell you—ah,” you huff out a breathy moan when his hand invades you beneath your shirt. he wastes no time and starts fondling your breast. “you gotta…” you breathe out, “remember what you did.”

he rolls his eyes before he uses one hand to push the shirt over your head. you let him do so, giving him a nonverbal permission. you’re sprawled out on the bed with your upper body in the view for him to adore and mark.

his lips tug upward and he’s never been this turned on. your chest heaving up and down in a slow pace. but it’s deep—the way you’re looking right into his eyes. as if you’re desperate for him.

how are you able to make his dick ache with so much pain by just laying down beneath him? it’s honestly magic to him. how he’s still so down bad for you even after you’ve made him so sexually, physically, and emotionally frustrated.

“say it.” he nods to you.

but you don’t reply immediately, instead you shake your waist sensually against him. arching your hips just a tad bit so that your wetness comes in contact with his bricked up dick.

he rolls his eyes back and he doesn’t care one bit if he looks so pathetic in front of you right now. because he needs you so bad, and it doesn’t help his situation that you’re actively seducing him to do rough sex just so that you’ll admit whatever is on your mind.

he lowers himself down onto your perked up bud, lapping onto it and he stares up at you when he does so. you make eye-contact and you melt. your back arches, inviting him to bite against your nipple to get a reaction.

and he gets what he wants.

“ah, fuck. sae—” you moan out his name when both of your breasts are so full of his attention. one receiving mouth game from him and the other is being loved by the slenderness of his fingers.

but he’s not convinced at all. he licks your stomach while he tugs your shorts off. you bite your lips as you look down to see him kissing the space between your navel and pussy. the distance between the two drives you crazy because you just want him inside of you and nothing else.

he watches as you squirm when his lips make in contact with your bare inner thigh.

“stop teasing for fuck’s sake.” you curse out, feet pushing him away but he catches your ankles and uses it as leverage to push your thighs open. you wince when the pain hits your bones.

“oh yeah?” he hums out before finally placing his wet lips onto your equally wet pussy.

he begins to expertly circle around your sensitive bud. two of his hands settle firmly on your thighs, trying to keep them open when you’re trying to close them to avoid overstimulation. he closes his eyes, focused in the way that his saliva is mixing with your fluids. his lips feel sticky but that’s the way that he likes it.

how can he not like it when you’re slowly unfolding before him? when the way that his tongue is exploring the inside of you is the reason for your eager moaning?

you cry out his name when you unravel. “fuck you, sae.” you curse him out when your thighs tremble and your body shivers with the gravity of the pleasure that’s taking over you.

he stares back at you with a smirk. proud of what he has done. he looms over with the way that your body is unravelling and your pussy leaks out your white goodness.

he stands in front of you and he cups your pussy with one hand, pushing in his middle finger just when your cum stops spilling out. he begins to pump it in and out and your eyes widen.

“w—wait, i’m still—”

you call out but you stutter when he adds his ring finger in. he raises an eyebrow, ushering you to continue but his speed and length makes it hard to speak and organize your thoughts again. he mocks you by adding another finger in and his speed accelerates. he holds your thigh down when you begin trembling, fingers hitting that one spot and it doesn’t take you long to spill out again.

sae retracts his fingers when your thighs close from the wave of pleasure washing over you. he shakes off the wetness on his hands and he unbuckles his pants with one hand. pulling out his belt and tosses it onto the floor before letting his pants pool on the floor.

your whining out your overstimulation when you see sae stroking his dick in front of you. a tear falls out of your eyes and it trickles down your cheek. it doesn’t go unnoticed by sae, so when he leans down, the tip of his dick touches your entrance. he crawls over you, wipes the tear away and kisses your cheek before slowly sliding into you.

you moan out his name when his dick fills you to the hilt. his size and girth overfilling every corner of you tight pussy. he groans when he feels suffocated inside you.

“fuck, baby, you’re so tight.” he moans out, stroking the bump on your stomach, asking that you loosen up before he cums inside youwithout even starting.

you do as you’re told and you calm yourself down but the fact that he’s so big doesn’t help. your lips trembles and your eyes water again. when sae’s busy adjusting to your tightness, you’re crying beneath him. your arms over your eyes, whimpering out your sobs.

“you said—” you choke out and sae shoot up to look at you immediately when he hears how your voice is incomplete and you’re sobbing out your words. you sniffle, “on national television that you don’t have a girlfriend.”

you finally reveal it when your tears swallow your face. every inch of your cheeks wet with your tears. you’re crying and it’s because of him—from both angst and overstimulation.

sae listens, and your pussy loosens around him when you finally let your feelings out.

“mhm.” he hums out, acknowledging that you continue with your rant. he props his hand flat on the matress and begins to move inside you. he thrusts gently at first when he waits for you to continue.

you whimper, “why would you, ah, d—deny me?” you croak, now crying out without restrictions.

when sae hears your words, his pace fastens and his thrusts go harsher. he copes with the idea of his wrongdoings by firmly holding onto one side of your waist and heatedly smashing both of your bodies together with every thrust that he initiates.

“yeah?” he groans out, a moan exiting when pleasure begins building up inside him too. you feel so good around him right now and that fact that you’re crying over him turns him even more and he’s motivated with the fact that he needs to do some serious making up because he has made his pretty girl upset.

he lets go of your hips and he circles his thumb around your clit. he positions one of your legs over his shoulder and he thrusts even deeper. your moaning out every echoing slap of your skin together, a choked moan for every thrust that he does.

he leans over you, kisses your lips and you catch him with ease. he leans back and kisses away your tears. “i’m sorry.” an apology from him and you’re back to moaning out his name.

“fuck your apologies.” you curse out, almost spitting on him and he understands your frustration. he lets you curse him but with the way you’re actively moaning with every thrust assures him that you don’t mean a thing.

he pushes in harshly, shoots his load deep inside you as you do the same by spilling out around his cock. he groans, tilts his head back.

“oh fuck [name], you feel so fucking good.” he curses underneath his breath and he lays flat on you. he breathes out muffled words, “what should i do to make you feel better about it, hm?”

when he’s vulnerable, you turn both of you around so that he’d be the one laying down and you’re on top straddling him. he looks up at you in disbelief and he only scoffs.

“let me ride you while you beg for my forgiveness.” he begin to move yourself back and forth on his cock and it feels sticky with the cum residue that sticks on your skin. but the sensation isn’t bothering you and sae’s dick is pulsating inside of you.

you place both of your hands onto his chest before you begin to bounce. sae is amused. with the way that you’re jumping on his cock, your boobs bouncing with every ride and your lips agape, unable to conceal the sexiness of your frustration.

he finds you beautiful even like this. naked on top of him, ready to challenge his dominance. eyes staring blankly down at him, asking that he say sorry for what he’s done.

he rests his hands on your hips, circling his thumb around your skin before he thrusts his hips up and you’re recoiling with the way that he does it so suddenly. his speed takes over you and you’re now lowering yourself onto him.

“oh, fuck—” you mewl out lewdly, eyes rolling to the back of your head, and it’s honestly music to his ears.

“would you take it as an apology if i married you, so we could announce it to the whole world?”

@/bluelock_news: athlete ITOSHI SAE announces marriage to non-showbiz, long-term girlfriend!

[one pic attached: itoshi sae’s bare back in the view with a girl wrapped around his arms. a glint of a diamond ring can be seen.]

@/itoshi_sae: totally not single

The signs had been there all day.

You had seen it in the way Lucci watched you — those intense, slow drags of his green-gold gaze across your body like he was memorizing you, branding you. The way his fingers lingered too long against yours when passing a cup of tea, the way his breathing had become almost imperceptibly deeper, slower, more deliberate.

Heat.

You knew what it meant by now. Once a month, his animal blood overpowered even his iron will, dragging him down into a storm of instincts he usually despised. He hated losing control. Hated being reduced to nothing but the primal urge to take, claim, breed.

Tonight was worse.

You could feel it in the air between you — thick and heavy, almost buzzing. And even now, as you sat on the bed, pretending to read, you could feel him looming just beyond the doorway. Watching you.

Waiting.

"Lucci?" you called softly, heart pounding, pretending not to hear the way your own voice trembled slightly.

There was a long pause — and then the slow, deliberate thud of his boots across the floor.

He stepped into the room, and the air shifted immediately.

You swallowed hard.

He wasn't fully shifted — not yet — but you could see the signs: the sharp gleam of his pupils narrowing into slits, the slight enlargement of his canines when he exhaled slow through his teeth, his muscles tensed and coiled tight under his black shirt.

When he spoke, his voice was lower than usual — rough, thick with restraint. "Come here."

Not a request. A command.

You set the book down with trembling fingers and stood. Your steps were hesitant — not from fear — but from the electricity that seemed to snap between your bodies as you approached.

You barely had time to inhale before he seized your wrist — gently, but with a grip that brooked no argument — and pulled you close, pressing your smaller form against the broad, tense wall of his chest.

He was burning to the touch. Heat radiated off him in waves. His scent — deep, musky, wild — curled around you like smoke, dizzying and addictive.

His head dipped low, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

"You smell like you want me," he murmured, voice a dangerous rasp. "You know what I need. Don't you?"

You nodded weakly, breath hitching, body already betraying you — arching into him, thighs pressing together.

He chuckled low — a dark, rumbling sound from deep in his chest — and his hand slid possessively down your side, over the curve of your waist, pausing at your hip. Holding you there.

"Say it," he ordered softly. "Tell me you’ll let me."

You shivered — half from nerves, half from the way his dominant presence swallowed you whole.

"I’ll let you," you whispered, barely audible. "I’m yours."

A growl vibrated against your body in response — approving, pleased — and then suddenly the heat between you ignited.

His body began to shift against yours — taller, broader, heavier — as the beast inside him took over. Muscle thickened under your palms; black-spotted fur prickled against your fingertips; claws pricked the bedsheets when he caged you against the mattress.

His hybrid form was terrifying — breathtaking — devastating.

A massive leopard-man looming over your much smaller frame, his green eyes burning down at you with pure, unfiltered hunger. He bent over you, nudging your cheek with his nose, inhaling deeply.

"Mine," he rumbled — a savage, reverent declaration.

You whimpered when his clawed fingers gripped your thighs and pushed them apart — rough but careful — as though he barely trusted himself not to tear you apart.

His mouth grazed the sensitive spot below your ear — and for a moment, he simply hovered there — breathing hard, muscles trembling with restraint.

"Last chance," he rasped, voice breaking with need. "Tell me no, and I’ll walk away. I’ll fucking tear myself apart if I have to. But if you say yes..."

You tilted your head back, throat bare to him, surrendering completely. "Yes," you breathed.

And that was all it took.

He surged forward — kissing you bruisingly hard, hands everywhere — dragging you down into the primal, raw hunger he'd bottled up for too long.

You moaned into his mouth as he manhandled you effortlessly — lifting you, spreading you, grinding the massive, throbbing heat of him against your core through the thin barrier of your panties. Still clothed — but barely — the friction between you was overwhelming. You could feel the hard outline of him, huge and leaking through his pants, rutting against you in slow, desperate rolls of his hips. 

Your skirt bunched up around your waist; your panties were soaked through in minutes.

Lucci's claws shredded the front of his own trousers enough to free himself — thick, slick, dripping precome already — and he pressed the blunt, hot head against your trembling entrance.

Still fully clothed, panting, grinding against each other like animals in the dark. You clutched at his spotted fur, nails digging deep, gasping his name.

"Lucci—"

"Shh," he growled against your throat, grinding harder, his cock catching against your clit just enough to make you sob.

"Take it," he rasped. "Be good for me. Let me have you."

One savage thrust — and he buried himself halfway inside — the stretch nearly unbearable, so big it stole the breath from your lungs. He froze immediately, a guttural snarl ripping from his throat as he fought the urge to slam into you.

"Too tight," he growled against your shoulder. "So good—fuck, you're good—"

He rocked his hips in tiny, controlled thrusts — barely moving — stretching you slowly, agonizingly, forcing your body to take every thick inch.

Your legs trembled, wrapped around his waist.

Every movement was clumsy, desperate, still fully clothed, driven by pure animalistic need.

Lucci's mouth latched onto your throat — not biting, but hovering dangerously close — and his entire body shook with the effort of holding back enough not to hurt you.

"Mine," he rasped again. "Always. Forever."

You could only nod helplessly — body burning, nerves on fire — as he finally bottomed out inside you, filling you completely, claiming you in the most primal way possible as his cock throbbed deep inside you, buried to the hilt — impossibly thick, stretching you so full it made you whimper breathlessly against his furred chest.

And for one, trembling moment — Lucci didn’t move. He hovered there, shuddering, arms locked on either side of your head, whole massive body tensed like a bowstring drawn to its limit.

You could feel it. The primal, trembling urge inside him to just take you. To rut into you like a wild animal until you forgot your own name. But somehow — barely — he held himself still, teeth gritted, low snarling breaths rasping against your neck.

"Too small," he growled roughly, voice cracked with the effort of restraint. "You're too fucking small—"

You whimpered, squirming helplessly underneath him — but the tiny flex of your hips against him was enough to shatter what little control he had left.

He snapped.

The first thrust wasn't pretty — it was brutal, needy, frantic — a dragging pull-back of his hips that made you keen, made your nails rake helplessly down the thick muscles of his arms. When he drove back into you, it wasn't smooth — it was clumsy, messy, as if he couldn’t not slam back to the deepest part of you, chasing some feral, inborn high.

"Fuck—," Lucci snarled, forehead dropping to press against yours, his whole body shaking.

He pumped his hips in shallow, devastating thrusts — grinding you down into the mattress, holding you like you might disappear if he let go.

Each thrust was a struggle — not because he wanted to stop — but because he wanted to fuck you harder, deeper, rougher than your body could take. He cursed low and vicious under his breath in between every slow, desperate thrust.

Your thighs clung to his waist, trembling, heels digging into the small of his back, trying to keep him there — pressed so deep inside you that you felt him everywhere.

"S-so good," you gasped, arching up into him, sobbing his name.

Lucci snarled — a dangerous, wrecked sound — and bent to crush your mouth under his in a kiss that was less kiss and more claiming.

Teeth scraping.

Tongues tangling.

Breathless, broken gasps between the slamming of hips against hips.

"Say it," he demanded raggedly against your mouth, pounding into you with short, brutal thrusts that made the whole bed shudder. "Say you're mine."

"Yours," you sobbed without hesitation, clinging to him, body clenching tight around the thickness of him.

He lost it.

With a guttural growl, he shoved one huge arm under your waist — dragging you impossibly closer, tipping your hips up at a brutal angle — so he could bottom out even deeper inside you, grinding against your cervix with every desperate thrust.

"That's right," he snarled. "That's right. Mine. Mine. Fucking—mine."

He was rutting into you like he couldn't stop — rough and relentless, making you cry out with every slam of his hips, tears slipping down your cheeks from the overwhelming stretch, the raw burning pleasure.

Your body clung to him, trembling, and it only made him more frantic — chasing the smell of your heat, the slick between your thighs, the desperate way you mewled his name like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Gonna breed you," he growled against your throat, voice raw, almost mindless. "Fill you up. Knot you if I have to. You're mine."

You sobbed something — yes, please, anything — and that was all he needed.

His hips slammed into you faster, messier, all rhythm forgotten — reduced to pure instinct, rutting hard and wild and mindless, grinding you into the mattress with each possessive thrust.

You barely realized you were coming until your whole body convulsed — clenching tight around him — sobbing his name brokenly into the crook of his neck.

Lucci growled— A ragged, feral sound that was half-pain, half-ecstasy — And his hips stuttered once, twice — before he drove himself impossibly deep one last time and came. The heat of it spilled inside you — endless, overwhelming — filling you up so much that you whimpered against his neck, nails raking down his back as he ground against you through the aftershocks.

Even after he came, he didn't stop moving — slow, shallow grinds, refusing to pull out, cock twitching deep inside you, his massive frame caging you down, panting harshly against your throat. Still trembling. Still barely holding back from starting all over again.

You couldn’t breathe. Not properly. Not with the way Lucci’s massive body was pressing you into the mattress, the heat of his skin searing against yours, his cock still sheathed so deep inside you it felt like you’d never be empty again.

He was trembling. Full body, bone-deep shakes — low, ragged snarls rumbling against your throat like he was still fighting himself, even though the worst of his heat had been sated. His arms locked tighter around your waist, keeping your hips pinned flush to his.

You whimpered softly — half overwhelmed, half aching — trying to shift, to ease the heavy stretch where he was still grinding slow, instinctive rolls into your sore, soaked cunt.

The second you moved, Lucci growled — deep, guttural — and shoved himself deeper, grinding into the soft, swollen spot inside you with brutal finality.

"Don't—" he rasped, voice shredded raw from panting and snarling. "Don't move. You're not going anywhere."

You could feel the thick twitch of him inside you — the way his cock swelled slightly, as if even the thought of pulling away made his body rebel. Possessive. Wild. His green eyes, glowing faintly in the darkness, pinned you — the feral glint in them making your heart stutter and your body shiver under him.

Slowly — as if he didn't trust himself — he nuzzled his nose against your neck, dragging in slow, ragged breaths of your scent. You felt the gentle scrape of his fangs skim the soft skin there — not biting, just hovering, threatening.

A reminder.

A warning.

You were his.

You would stay his.

"Smell like me now," Lucci rumbled hoarsely, voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Inside and out. They’ll know who you belong to."

You whimpered — overwhelmed, trembling, brain foggy from the brutal fucking and the way his weight blanketed you.

Your fingers twitched weakly against his back — still buried in the thick fur between his shoulder blades — and Lucci purred lowly in response, pressing his entire body closer, caging you against the bed as if he could merge you with himself if he just pressed hard enough.

Even soft, even done, there was no escaping him. You were stretched to the brink around him — aching, throbbing — slickness smearing between your thighs, a messy, embarrassing wet heat. But Lucci didn’t pull out. Didn’t let you breathe.

His hips gave tiny, unconscious rocks — not to fuck you, not yet — just to keep himself inside, to keep the bond sealed, to keep your body trembling around his cock until you couldn’t remember what it felt like to be alone. His nose brushed your jaw, a rare, dangerous tenderness in the way he held you — like a wounded animal clutching its mate, afraid you might vanish if he loosened his grip.

"Little thing," he rasped, the words a broken, reverent snarl against your skin.  "Took me so well."

You keened softly — overwhelmed, flooded with the heat and praise and the lingering, dizzy ache of being so utterly filled.

He shifted, lowering himself even more until your chest was pressed flush to his — your heart pounding frantic against his much slower, rumbling pulse.

Slowly, gently — he hooked one massive, furred hand under your thigh and hitched it higher around his waist, making your battered core clench weakly around him, earning a low, dangerous growl.

"Fuck—" he gritted out. "Tight still. Don’t squeeze me—"

But your body wasn’t listening — clenching and fluttering helplessly around the thickness of him, still greedy even after being ruined. Lucci’s control frayed further — he pushed into you with a shallow thrust, slow but unstoppable, grinding deep where you were most sensitive. You whimpered, head lolling back against the pillow.

He didn’t stop — moving in slow, aching, endless rolls — dragging his cock along every battered, oversensitive nerve inside you until your thighs were trembling and you were mewling brokenly against his shoulder. It wasn’t rough anymore. It was tender now — brutal in a different way — as if he was trying to mark every inch of you from the inside out, to imprint himself so deep that even time couldn’t wash him away.

The air was hot, sticky, heavy with the scent of sex and sweat and something more primal — something that made your instincts curl inward, pressing closer, submitting without even thinking.

Lucci pressed his forehead to yours, breathing raggedly through his nose, one hand still cupping the underside of your thigh, the other wrapped tight around your back, keeping you caged and motionless under him.

"You’re mine," he whispered, voice wrecked, low, barely human. "Always. Even if you run, little thing. Even if you fight me. You're mine."

You whimpered weakly, nodding — because you couldn’t speak — because it was true — because even if you could have fought him, you never would.

You were his. And he would never let you forget it.

He nuzzled your jaw again, low growls of satisfaction rumbling through his chest as you sagged bonelessly under him — utterly, completely spent — trembling from the overwhelming fullness and the soft, endless way he rutted into you, claiming you over and over, even in the trembling aftermath.

You didn’t know how long he stayed like that — fucking you slow and deep and possessive in the dark, murmuring broken, snarling praises against your skin.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

The only sound was your broken, shaky breathing against his massive chest, and the low, rumbling growl in his throat that hadn't fully stopped — a deep, vibrating sound of possessive satisfaction and lingering hunger.

You clung to him — fists tangled in the thick fur at his shoulders, face buried in the crook of his neck.

And he buried himself deeper around you, curling his larger body protectively over yours, surrounding you in heat and scent and the heavy, primal thrum of his heartbeat.

His cock still pulsed deep inside you, a slow, lazy twitch of ownership that made you whimper softly — overstimulated, overwhelmed — but somehow craving even more.

You could feel the way his muscles trembled under the fur. Not from exhaustion — no. From restraint. From the brutal, raw effort it took not to flip you over and take you again, harder, rougher, the way his instincts demanded.

Instead, Lucci dragged in a deep, shuddering breath — and pressed his huge, clawed hand between your shoulder blades, cradling you close.

"You’re safe," he rasped into your hair. His voice was rough, ragged — the words almost a plea. "With me. Always."

You nodded weakly, still trembling. One massive hand slipped under your thighs, adjusting you so gently it made your chest ache. He moved slowly, carefully — as if he thought you might break if he wasn't careful enough. Still half-dressed, your skirt pushed up indecently around your waist, your panties hanging loosely from one ankle — but he didn’t seem to notice, or care.

All he cared about was the way you smelled — the way you felt — warm, spent, and utterly his. 

His tongue — rougher in this form — rasped slowly over your shoulder, a slow, claiming lick that made you shiver again. Marking you. Scenting you. Binding you to him in ways far deeper than any ring or vow could.

You tilted your head weakly, exposing your throat without thinking. The growl that tore out of him was feral — but somehow gentle, too.

Slowly — agonizingly slow — Lucci shifted back, just slightly: shrinking down from his full hybrid form until he was still larger, still powerful, but more human in shape. Still, his green-gold eyes blazed down at you with naked, possessive adoration.

He cupped your jaw with one clawed hand, thumb stroking your cheek — a soft touch that betrayed the animalistic hunger barely restrained beneath his skin.

"You're too good to me," he murmured roughly.

You blinked up at him, dazed, body still thrumming from the aftermath. "I love you," you whispered hoarsely, voice wrecked from crying out his name.

Lucci stiffened — just for a moment — and then his mouth crashed against yours, devouring you in a kiss that tasted like desperation and devotion. When he finally pulled back, his forehead dropped against yours.

He was breathing hard, trembling slightly. "I almost lost control," he confessed in a low, tortured whisper. "You made me feel—" His voice broke off, strained.

You stroked his jaw with trembling fingers. "You didn’t hurt me," you promised softly. "You never could."

Another deep, shuddering breath from him — as if your words physically relieved something heavy in his chest. Carefully, Lucci shifted again — this time fully back into his human form — and collapsed onto the bed with you, wrapping his massive body around yours.

His green eyes watched you — not cold now, but something devastatingly raw. As if you were the only thing tethering him to the world.

One large hand splayed protectively over your belly, fingers curling as if to shield the most vulnerable part of you from the world. He buried his face against your throat again, murmuring something so low you almost didn’t catch it.

"Mine," he breathed. "Only mine."

You smiled weakly, closing your eyes, letting the heavy warmth of him lull you into a fragile, exhausted peace.Outside, the world spun on — but here, in this dark little cocoon of heat and whispered devotion, you were safe.

Cherished.

Claimed.

Spandam’s office was excessively large for the amount of work he accomplished in it, which was very little. Boasting a floor of imported tile, the finest leather couches his father could afford, and a whole wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Enies Lobby, Spandam’s perch upon the top of the Judicial Island served to be little more than a sparse lounge. 

That’s certainly the way it functioned when the members of CP9 gathered, each of them having trickled into the room one by one to wait for a meeting that the host hadn’t even bothered to come to yet. 

Lucci stood, looking out the window, hands in the pockets of his slacks. He’d spent a few seconds too long frowning at Spandam’s barren desk. A few confidential papers were left out in the open. There were more paperweights than pens, and a plate from whatever Spandam’s last meal was still sat in the space in front of his plush chair. Lucci stared into the horizon so as not to spare an eye roll. No, that would have been too much of a crack in his cold exterior. 

When the grand double doors finally swung open, it was almost half an hour past the meeting time. Spandam strolled across the floor, a wide grin on his lips, his face lit with the smug joy of a man who’d just conquered the world. He was already spouting something loudly. But it wasn’t his grand entrance that caused Lucci to swiftly turn around. 

Something in the air changed. A subtle scent snuck in with the breeze let in from the hallway. Lucci huffed two subtle inhales, his sharp instincts already sifting through the catalogs of smells he had stored in his memory. 

—“is our newest recruit. Fresh out of the Academy with top marks in environmental reconnaissance and a concentration in stealth infiltration, and most importantly, hand-selected by yours truly—” Spandam slapped down hands down to grasp both your shoulders. You didn’t flinch. “Please welcome your newest support agent.” 

A few chuckles erupted from the gathered agents as you offered a slight bow. The words, “I’m honored to be here. I’ll do my best to support the team,” left your lips softly to another round of roars. 

Lucci understood why they laughed. Your stature in and of itself was a joke, and training didn’t appear to have put an ounce of muscle on you. Unlike the rest of them, it didn’t appear like you had even gotten the standard-issue uniform tailored to you. It was far too big on your frame, draping over your body in a way that made you look more out of place than you already did. You looked far too young and small, and your cheeks still appeared to hold a bit of baby fat. 

Lucci inhaled again.

“A mouse,” he said flatly. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t meant to invite conversation. His scrutinous, golden eyes stared into yours. 

“Exactly!” Spandam exclaimed, delighted at his own casting. “Who better to slip through cracks? To crawl through walls, I mean, what a body.” Spandam’s hands slid from your shoulders, down your biceps, and to your elbows. “Altered by a devil fruit in such a way. Perfect for a support professional—”

Lucci’s eyes flattened. “We don’t need support. Especially from someone who the team can’t even take seriously.”

He didn’t take his eyes off yours, searching for any weakness in your small, quiet exterior. 

Spandam’s cackle bounced off the tall ceiling. “Support’s part of survival, Lucci. It doesn’t hurt to have a little help now and then,” he lectured pompously. His hands were back on your shoulders, giving them a few pats before his fingers began to rub and massage at the base of your neck. 

You didn’t flinch at the gesture, just simply bowed your head. And that was it. That was the important announcement Spandam had on the agenda. While the introduction of a new member to CP9 was most definitely a cause for the team to be pulled from trainings and actual work, the way Spandam swiftly whisked you off to show you Funkfreed— promptly ignoring the rest of the team thereafter—caused Lucci to simmer quietly. 

They had missions to execute and essential things to take care of, yet Spandam paused everything just to show off his latest pet. 

Lucci glanced over his shoulder as he quietly left the room, scowling as you clapped softly at the elephant trunk that emerged from Spandam’s saber. If he’d known that the team was going to be getting a new member from the academy, he would have preferred to pick them himself. Because around here, a prey animal such as yourself would only slow them down. 

***

Spandam had assigned you to wires. Just wires. All the wires in Enies Lobby. 

Lucci didn’t have a clue what that meant. Well, he did. He knew it was the most brain-dead excuse for busy work their fearless commander-in-chief could have given you for the sake of making you look somewhat busy. But when he saw you in one of the main control rooms, he wondered if you had any idea what your task meant. 

He could have been doing something else. By all means, he should have been doing something far more important than leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching as your shoe twitched every time you tugged at something in the tiny, cramped alcove of metal and wires you had crammed your upper half into. 

By all means, he should have stopped you from messing with whatever it was you were poking around in. And if Lucci cared anything about your well-being, he would have pulled you out on the very basis that you’d crawled into live machinery. But Lucci hardly cared about the well-being of most things, let alone Spandam’s latest incompetent pet—was that a fucking wire between your teeth?

You had tugged yourself out of the alcove, landing on the balls of your feet with a thick wire between your teeth, the rest of it leading into the tangle you’d just come from. 

Lucci moved forward without thinking, appearing behind you in an instant. He grabbed the back of your uniform like a scruff, yanking you back before you could do whatever the hell it was you were about to do. 

Then—

A tiny crunch.

Lucci froze, slowly leaning to look down at your face, holding the back of your uniform a bit higher. You had the two pieces of the cord in your palms, unblinking as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“It was corroded,” you said softly. “The insulation was brittle, and the break was causing a conduction failure. I rerouted the power and—” You held up the wire pieces as you turned your head to look at Lucci. —“I removed the compromised cable.”

The monitors attached to the metal shell that held the nest of hardware flickered momentarily before the comm array lit up green. 

Lucci stared, holding back a slow, simmering confusion that he refused to let show on his face. 

Wires. Your job was wires. Here you were, chewing through live cables in one of the most heavily guarded, classified buildings belonging to the Navy. Unorthodox, reckless, stupid, moronic move that… worked. 

Lucci looked back down at you, catching your gaze. You hadn’t moved, hovering in the air with your knees a few inches from the ground as he held your uniform in his still-tightened grip. 

“It should hold for weeks,” you continued (as if not explaining enough was the problem), “We’ll need a replacement assembly eventually. I should probably get to work organizing some things in there because the corrosion seems to have started deeper—”

“Next time,” Lucci interrupted, “Tell me before you put your teeth on military equipment.” 

He dropped you, letting your knees hit the floor below. Lucci heaved in a breath, walking a few steps toward the monitor. His eyes flickered over the screen. 

“So, um…” You started, picking yourself off the ground behind him. “You oversee wires?”

Lucci paused to take in a deep and steady breath. He closed his eyes, mentally crunching the outcomes of what would happen if he slashed your throat then and there. There were certainly a lot of pros, the most tempting of which was that he’d derive great enjoyment from it. He’d certainly killed for less in the past. But on the other hand, Lucci was a damn professional, the likes of whom shouldn’t be provoked by a mouse. 

“No,” Lucci responded, barely restraining himself. “I don’t oversee a ridiculous busy work task like wires. I oversee you… and whatever you decide to chew on.”

“Oh.” You nodded earnestly. “I thought Mr. Spandam oversaw me. You said to tell you next time, so I thought you oversaw them.”

Lucci’s eye twitched. You couldn’t possibly be this… obtuse. 

He stalked toward the door. If he stayed any longer, he’d destroy the entire room with you in it, for better or for worse. He needed something to cool off.

***

Lucci had growled unceremoniously for Kaku to meet him in the training dome as he passed. Kaku exchanged glances with Bluno and Kalifa before shrugging and turning to follow Lucci. 

Lucci spared no time, shedding his jacket and ripping his tucked shirt from his waistband, tossing both articles of clothing to the side. Kaku was far slower to prepare himself to spar, quiet eyes searching Lucci for a hint as to what was going on. But ultimately, Kaku joined him in the ring, rolling his sleeves up for a match. 

Lucci took a tight fighting stance, rolling the coiled muscles in his shoulders. 

Kaku frowned. “You seem unsettled today.”

“I’m fine,” Lucci grumbled, lunging forward for a swift strike. 

Kaku blocked it quickly, taking the opportunity to observe Lucci’s face up close. “We’ve barely started, and you’re already breathing like a bull.” 

Lucci’s nose twitched. “I’m. Fine.”

Kaku didn’t push. It was one of the reasons Lucci tolerated him. 

They clashed. Lucci’s movements were sweeping and fast. He didn’t hold anything back, no, not against Kaku. Lucci jabbed with the finger pistol over and over, before kicking and swiping. But Kaku was far less active. He pivoted, dodged, and blocked, stepping only two steps in concession before ducking to the side with a sharp pivot. 

“You’re faster when irritated,” he noted. 

Lucci struck harder. 

Kaku dodged, nearly stumbled as he leaned back. “May I inquire as to the cause?”

Lucci swept his leg in an attempt to take advantage of the stumble. Kaku leaped, avoiding Lucci’s leg just in time. “I’m not irritated. Now fight back.”

Lucci launched forward, his arm cocked to strike, only to be stopped by Kaku’s leg. Kaku spun into a kick, which Lucci avoided. 

“Is it the new recruit?” Kaku asked casually, sidestepping a blow meant for his head. “We worked together on the Yellow Shrine field recon a few days ago. I thought a short perimeter sweep with minimal cover would be a good sandbox for observation. I’ll eat my hat; I was surprised. Real efficient. Excellent data retrieval, the sectors were mapped quietly, and without oversight—”

Lucci’s jaw tightened. “Maybe you’re easily impressed, but I just watched our new recruit chew through a live wire like an animal.” 

The very words caused Kaku to falter for a moment. He blocked Lucci’s proceeding strike, somewhat lost in thought as he held the pressure at bay. “Half the team are animals, Lucci. Hate to say that includes both of us,” Kaku grunted, finally executing a counter strike. 

“That’s not the point,” Lucci growled. 

“Then what is the point?” Kaku asked. “I know you might not want to hear it, but I don’t think Spandam picked a bad one. Definitely not the worst by far. I think the selection’s rounded out the team if I’m speaking candidly.”

Lucci’s fist sailed through the air hard enough to whistle. His breath sharpened. “Think so?” he barked with an almost mocking edge. “Ever occur to you to use your teeth on military equipment? Or do you think it’s a new technique they’re teaching at the Academy these days?”

“A creative solution,” Kaku hummed. 

“A ridiculous one.”

“But it was a solution?” Kaku probed, deducting the answer to his question from the way Lucci’s finger pistol aimed straight for his face. 

“It’s not a solution when the methods are ridiculous.”

Kaku blocked the hit, the clash of opposing forces forcing the two of them back to stand at opposite sides of the ring once more. 

Lucci watched as Kaku paused, placing both fists on his hips. “Ah,” the giraffe-Zoan mused. 

Lucci hated that tone. It sounded like the tsk of a parent. Patronizing. “Don’t,” he grumbled. 

“That’s what’s troubling you, huh?” Kaku continued, almost conversationally, “You can’t reconcile that a docile, soft-spoken agent that Spandam brought in works.”

“I’m not bothered by Spandam’s pet,” Lucci spat, his lips pressed into a thin line. His face was still cold and hard as he stepped forward. 

“You’re not bothered,” Kaku repeated in thought. 

Lucci’s next hit had the full weight of his irritation behind it. Kaku allowed himself to be driven back. “I prefer knowing that my team is made up of competent, disciplined killers, not unpredictable feeder mice.” 

Kaku nodded, not quite as invested in the sparring match as before. “Understandable. I suppose you haven’t been on the field together to know what to expect. Although, objectively, I haven’t seen anything to the contrary regarding team standards. Perhaps it’s the disparity between expectation and result that unnerves you.”

Lucci stopped suddenly. For once, he stood still, feet planted, shoulders still, breath caught. He stepped back, his expression sharpening decisively.

“You’re right,” Lucci said, nodding once, “I should see it for myself.”

Kaku’s eyes immediately flickered to Lucci. “Lucci—” he called, his tone a warning, but Lucci was already headed out of the training hall. 

Kaku followed, barely hearing Lucci mutter, “That rat better be in the same place…”

“Lucci,” Kaku called again, “This isn’t necessary.”

But he didn’t respond, continuing to stride ferociously to the hall he’d left you in. Lucci didn’t know where you were exactly, but in his quiet, red-eyed rage, he’d tear apart every wall to find you. Kaku caught up somewhat with Lucci, following hot on his heels.

“Do this a different time,” Kaku tried to reason, “After crawling through wires all day, would you be up for a fight? After being all cramped and annoyed?”

“Sounds great to me.” Lucci grinned sadistically. “It’ll make the fight honest.” 

Kaku caught Lucci’s arm—a risky move, even for CP9’s second strongest agent. Lucci stopped in the middle of the hall, his figure rippling with cold anger. He turned slowly, his nose already scrunched up into a snarl. But Kaku didn’t let go.

“The sparring match, you mean,” Kaku corrected. “This doesn’t need to happen. You’re choosing this because you’re unsettled. You’re not being impartial.”

“I don’t need to be impartial,” Lucci said flatly. 

“You’re picking a fight with someone half your size.”

“Not my problem.” Lucci pulled his arms away with a jerk of his shoulder before continuing down the hall. “I’ll go easy if you’re so worried.”

Kaku huffed, breathing a steady sigh of exasperation before following after Lucci once more. “You will do no such thing. You’re incapable of going easy on anything.”

“Try stopping me.”

***

You were in the same place Lucci had left you, much to the relief of the structural integrity of Ennies Lobby. You still looked ridiculous with your little butt sticking out from a cable conduit. The entire bay smelled like toasted metal. You were muttering to yourself, your voice echoing in the cable box. Some of what you were saying was technical, and what parts weren’t completely inaudible were definitely you swearing in mouse. 

Lucci stopped short in the doorway, and Kaku just about crashed into his back as Lucci called your name. 

Your legs stiffened as you froze. A beat later, you backed out of the conduit, cheeks smudged subtly with some sort of chalky, black substance. A bundle of multicolored wires wrapped around your shoulder like a lasso. 

“I didn’t bite anything, Mr. Rob,” you reported, beaming like it was a triumph. 

Lucci resisted the urge to look up at the ceiling by closing his eyes for a moment. He breathed. 

“Do you ever take yourself seriously?” he scrutinized, gesturing with his hand. “Get up. We’re sparring.” 

Your ears twitched. “We’re… what?”

“We’re sparring,” Lucci repeated. “Five minutes. In the training hall.”

You glanced between Lucci and Kaku, desperately searching for a clue or an explanation. You wore your confusion and concern on your face, which only served to make Lucci scowl deeper. 

“Wait, why? I didn’t do anything this time,” you said, as if trying to argue your way out of a punishment without fully committing. 

“You did something last time.” Lucci glowered. “And the time before that.” 

You blinked before glancing sheepishly down at the cables wrapped around your shoulder. “I only bit the equipment the one time,” you muttered, holding up your index finger.

Lucci left before you even stopped talking. Kaku lingered, offering a polite look in lieu of an apology. “He’s in a mood,” Kaku excused. “He’s not usually this… motivated.”

Your gaze drifted back to the cable box. “Do you think fixing the signal issue made him want to fight me?”

Kaku crossed his arms over his chest, slowly lowering his chin. “I suspect it is not the wiring.”

Your forehead creased. “Oh,” you said, adjusting the lasso of cables on your shoulder before looking back at Kaku. “Is he mad?” 

Kaku paused at the question. Even the words you chose were small. “He’s…” Kaku searched for a polite word. “... focused.” 

Your ears perked up. “That sounds like a nice thing,” you said softly, coiling a few cables in your hands. Perhaps it was a nervous fidget. 

“Unfortunately, not in this context.”

You tossed a ring of newly coiled wires into a bin. “Am I allowed to say no?” you asked. “I don’t really want to fight him. He looks very fast and… his teeth look sharp.” You trailed off, looking at nothing in particular as you stared into the distance. “He looks at people like he’s counting their bones.”

Kaku’s lips pursed. “...He does do that,” Kaku admitted, “I think Lucci has already decided he wants to spar you.”

“So, I’m not allowed to say no?” 

“I think that you’ll fight whether you go to the training hall or not,” Kaku said gravely, his voice calm and level, “Fighting in the training hall means nothing gets broken.” 

“Broken?” you asked, genuinely puzzled. “It’s training.”

“Yes.” Kaku inhaled sharply. “And Lucci is… Lucci.” 

You were fidgeting with another set of cables. “Should I… Should I smile when I get there? Mr. Spandam keeps telling me I need to smile more, but Mr. Rob doesn’t seem like the kind of man who likes it when people smile at him.” 

Kaku exhaled a long and slow breath. “For your own safety,” he said quietly, “Do not smile.”

“Copy,” you replied. It was one of only a handful of times Kaku had really seen any of your Academy training shine through. The word sounded odd coming from your voice. 

“And also…” Kaku found himself saying quickly. Your ears twitched again, your brows raised in attention. Kaku stalled for a moment, wondering how much is too much to say. “If anything feels wrong, I would encourage you to… run. Don’t worry about being polite. And please stretch thoroughly. He will expect full contact.” 

Kaku swiftly excused himself as if dreading your reply. 

“Copy that,” you said smally. 

***

The team had already gathered before you’d even arrived. They hadn’t been called. No, they heard Lucci was sparring with you, and that was enough. They hulked over the sidelines, standing or sitting with an eagerness only the prospect of bloodshed could have brought on. Lucci hadn’t spoken to a single one of them, already standing in the ring with his head slightly bowed as he sniffed the air. 

When you arrived, Jabra mocked an applause, hooting and hollering for far too long as you approached the floor. You stepped carefully to the edge of the ring, seemingly unconcerned by the hungry gazes around you. 

Lucci waited in the center, tracking you with his feline eyes. He watched you breathe in, then out. You removed your standard-issue jacket, then your button-down shirt, and your slacks to reveal a dark compression suit—the same ones they use in basic training. You folded the discarded clothes, setting them at the edge of the arena, before stepping in. 

“This is going to be ugly,” someone whispered. 

Lucci didn’t look their way. He was watching you.

Only you.

You raised your hands. The stance looked goofy on you, like a mouse wearing boxing gloves. But fitting or not, your form was perfect. Tight. Balanced. You may have trained in Guanhao after all. 

Lucci didn’t announce the start of the match. He simply moved. 

Fast. 

He transformed into his man-beast form in an instant.

Kaku’s eyes widened from the sidelines. “Lucci!” 

You literally squeaked, diving aside as sharp claws slashed through the air where your neck had just been. Your eyes trailed Lucci’s paw, watching with clenched teeth as he closed the distance between you. Your gaze dropped down as Lucci landed on his front foot. 

You used your position to accelerate forward to sweep his back foot. Lucci’s body moved, stepping over your leg with little effort. It was a move he cataloged as rookie. He was much larger than you, and even if you’d made contact, Lucci doubted you’d be able to pull off the maneuver you were attempting. 

But then he blinked. 

He blinked, and you were gone. 

Lucci swiveled his head, his predatory eyes searching for you. This was not the flash step. He heard you before he saw you, his ears twitching at the light scratching noise from behind his ankle. 

You lunged, arm cocked as you transitioned from full, tiny mouse to your man-beast form that shaved a few inches off your already stout human height. You wanted a tap, a score to show you had something. You were quiet. You were fast, accelerating faster by the boost your transformation gave you.

And then Lucci caught your wrist in mid-air. 

And he threw. 

He threw you down hard, and you hit the mat with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs. You skidded to the other side of the ring in your complete mouse form, ears and tail tucked. 

Neither of you noticed as Spandam hurried into the hall, distracted at first by the gathered team. He frowned at the sight of Kaku and the others who lined the perimeter of the training area. 

“…What’s—what’s happening here?” he asked, voice raised as he approached the ring. 

Spandam squinted. He saw Lucci. His eyes swept over the small crowd, mentally counting out all his agents. Spandam counted once, then twice. Surely everyone wasn’t here to watch Lucci shadowbox—

Spandam froze as he began to piece things together.

“Wait. Wait, wait, no!” He tried to run up to the ring. “Lucci! Stop this right now! You can’t—” 

Kaku blocked him with a sturdy arm, ignoring Spandam’s scowl. 

“You can’t stop this, and you know it,” Kaku said firmly, eyes cast somewhat down as his jaw tightened.

“Get out of my way!” Spandam gritted, his voice cracking. “That’s an order. I’m not about to let Lucci turn one of my agents into—”

“A capable agent of CP9 who can handle a sparring match,” Kaku interjected. He breathed in, lying steadily. Not even he could intervene in this. Spandam’s involvement would only make things worse than they already were. 

Spandam’s jaw clenched. “Not for this. Not against him.”

Kaku met Spandam’s eyes. “You trust your own selection, don’t you? Stepping in won’t save anyone. You know that.” 

In the ring, you pulled yourself to your feet, shifting back into your half-form. You were shaking, but you didn’t say a word as you ran forward. Quiet and steady. Lucci didn’t even square up, standing with his arms at his sides as he watched you. 

Just when you were close enough, you shrank down, scurrying around Lucci’s ankle before pivoting and launching an uppercut on his left. He blocked you without using Iron Body, sending you flying again. 

But this time, you landed on your feet, skidding as you reversed the momentum to rush forward again. You blipped in and out of Zoan forms, maneuvering around Lucci flexibly, switching to small when you dodged and large when you were striking. 

Big. Small. Big. Small. You catapulted around him, rolling over kill strikes. As you flipped over his head out of range of another swipe, you transformed into your half-form. Your shadow engulfed him, your leg extended as you used the momentum of your dodge to bring your foot down like an axe. 

Lucci swiftly dodged to the right, tracking the milliseconds as your form—SMACK!

Lucci’s instincts had pulled him back a hair, but it wasn’t enough to dodge the way your tail slashed across his face. It made a crisp, cracking sound right before you landed in front of him. The strike was nothing of true note. To Lucci, it was little more than a love tap. But if it had been a better angle, it would have hit Lucci’s eyes. 

Instinct kicked in. 

Predatory instinct. 

Lucci’s clawed hand immediately grabbed your throat and slammed you down onto the mat with a force no one foresaw. The impact cracked through the room, changing the air as a sharp, pained cry ripped from your lungs. It was the sort of impact that made even a few members of CP9 wince. 

You stared up at the distant lights on the high ceiling, white orbs of brightness that began to spin. The floor had become uneven, the impact of your body having broken something structurally under you. Your head rang, the words, “We’re done here—we’re done here—” echoing in your muffled ears. 

But you weren’t done. 

Lucci had already made it to the edge of the ring before you pulled yourself to your knees. You watched as he eyed you from his peripheral, stopping just short of leaving. Your knees wouldn’t stop shaking. You tried to rise, but your legs gave out under you. You steadied yourself, smacking a hand to the floor. 

Lucci watched as you breathed shallowly, pupils unfocused. His claws retracted halfway before extending again. It wasn’t conscious, but in his man-beast form, he was twitching at the sheer fact you were still moving. Lucci’s tail flicked once. Perhaps it was a sign of irritation. Or something darker. 

He turned around to advance toward you. 

Kaku leaped to the side of the ring, but before he could put a foot inside, Lucci growled. Kaku stopped, slowly taking a half step back. 

You tried to stand again. You made it to your feet this time, but you stood doubled over and swaying. 

Lucci stood over you, chest rising and falling in smooth, controlled breaths. He grabbed your chin, forcing your face upward to inspect your eyes. You squeaked, but still lifted your hands to guard. 

Your knees buckled, and you tipped forward, pressing into Lucci’s hold on your jaw as if his hand were the only sturdy thing left. You dragged yourself upright against his grip back into something like a stance. You tried to swing.

Lucci caught your fist in his palm. He held it there. More of your weight fell into Lucci’s hand. Your whole body quaked as you tried to pull free. Lucci could feel your heartbeat pulsing through your weak stance. 

Lucci leaned down to speak into your ear. “Stand down.” 

You shook your head, still breathing fast and heavy like a trapped animal. 

Lucci’s eyes narrowed. 

You lifted your leg up, perhaps to try to knee him, but your leg gave out halfway before you crumpled against his chest. Lucci didn’t move, just watching as your ears twitched between human and animal, barely transforming. 

No one had ever leaned into his touch before. No one had fallen against him like you had. He, the Massacre Weapon. You, the recon mouse. 

Only when you were too weak to even hold yourself against him did Lucci release you, letting you collapse onto the mat. And for a long moment, you didn’t move. 

Lucci slowly transformed back to his human form, staring down at you silently. Kaku moved to step into the ring again, but Lucci held out a hand. 

Your fingers twitched as Lucci crouched beside you. “Enough,” he said quietly. 

You planted your palms on the mat. Before you could even try to stand again, Lucci’s hand pressed on the base of your skull—an assertion of control. 

“Stay down.”

Your body went still. The fight was over. 

Lucci’s shoulders deflated, the tension slowly melting from him. But that same strain shifted, settling in the pit of his stomach like an iron ball. 

Spandam rushed forward. Kaku followed. Lucci hardly noticed, his gaze on the small, unconscious thing at his feet—the one whom he never expected to have to force down to end the match. 

Kaku had scooped you up to make for what Lucci assumed was the infirmary. Spandam was furious, speaking angrily, spit flying from his lip in Lucci’s face. Lucci didn’t notice. 

***

“Well… that was depressing.” 

“Tell me about it…”

“Great job picking on a helpless little mouse, Lucci,” Jabra cackled as he passed. “Feel like a big man yet?”

Lucci stayed in the training hall for a good long while, even after everyone else left. He didn’t acknowledge a soul as they went, remaining in the center of the ring. Lucci stared down at the broken arena, his eyes drawn to the point where the broken parts of the flood converged. The rubble grew smaller where your body had been slammed. Tiny prints and small scratches littered pieces of the flooring.

The memory of you didn’t settle like it was supposed to. Lucci was hardly one to dwell on things, but thoughts of your strikes and leaps didn’t appear to settle. Even so, the outcome should have been clear. Lucci absolutely crushed you, just like he knew he would—just like everyone else knew he would. It wouldn’t have mattered if no one in your position could ever have had a chance of beating him. The easy victory alone should have been enough to make the argument for once and for all that you were not cut out for CP9. 

He kept thinking about your small figure on the ground; the way your eyes fogged but still tracked him; the way you trembled as you tried to stand; the way your fingers clawed at the mat before he had to force your submission by holding you down. 

The predator inside him should have taken satisfaction in the way you finally stopped moving beneath him. He could still feel the warmth of your heated skin in his hand and how his fingers curved over the back of your skull. That should have been satisfactory enough. But Lucci was left unsettled, as if the match had also served to worsen things. Or maybe it didn’t change anything at all. 

He locked himself in the weight room for the rest of the day, jamming a bench bar through the double doors and bending the steel into a crooked knot—an unmistakable warning to leave him alone. Lucci drilled until he lost track of time entirely. He lifted, punched, and trailed until he’d confirmed to himself over and over that the uneasy sense that coiled in his chest wouldn’t disappear. 

He retreated to his quarters late in the evening. On his way, he hadn’t even meant to pass the medical bay. Lucci paused at the sight of the glass doors. The medical cross was engraved into them, and a tropical plant sat in a pot in a corner just past them. 

The thought of seeing you hadn’t occurred to him before then. Such a gesture wasn’t in his nature, and Lucci had no interest in watching you get patched up or standing around as Spandam undoubtably fawned all over you. 

But just for a second, he paused. His step faltered for a moment at the mouth of the corridor that led to medical.

Kaku turned a corner, passing out the glass doors, stopping just outside them as he noticed Lucci. Neither of them said a word. Lucci didn’t ask. Kaku didn’t inform. And when Kaku departed past Lucci, it wasn’t out of anger, but a quiet exasperation.

He didn’t have to say I told you so.

***

You recovered quicker than Lucci expected. You weren’t completely healed of your injury, but you were well enough to get back on your feet. And if Lucci had to deduce, he was more than certain that the idea to return to work so quickly was your own. 

You were in the server room again, appearing to be taking your job of wires very seriously. Lucci had found you there with Spandam and Kaku. You were standing on your own, your cheek bruised, and a few bandages littering small parts of your body. You carried yourself gingerly, even as Spandam seemed to corner you. 

“I thought you might need some protein. Maybe a little comfort? We all get band up on our first big mission. Or spar. Or… whatever that was!” Spandam said, holding a plate. Several types of cheeses were arranged on it in neat little slices. If anything, it was an excessive amount of cheese, a collection that Spandam held out earnestly to you. “This one’s smoked. This one’s been aged—”

“Sir, you’re talking to a grown adult agent, not a—”

Your ears twitched. “It does smell nice…” You whispered. 

That was about when Lucci rounded the corner. The sudden movement in the doorway made everyone instinctively turn toward him. 

Lucci took in the scene quickly, his eyes quickly darting from the cheese to how you were standing gingerly, still bruised and exhausted but still somehow trying your best to stay polite. Then, he turned and began to walk away. 

He hardly made it halfway down the hall before he heard footsteps pattering behind him, footsteps that were far too light and hesitant to be Kaku or Spandam. 

“Mr. Rob?” you called from behind him. 

Lucci could have continued on his way. If he really wanted to shake you, he could have easily flash-stepped away. In your condition, you had no chance of keeping up with him even if you wanted to. Everything concerning you ended with your sparring match. And yet, Lucci turned around. 

You stood a few steps away—a safe distance. You had certainly taken a beating. You didn’t even have shoes on; rather, you walked the halls of Enies Lobby in medical grippy socks that were a size too big on you. The cheese plate was still in your hands. 

“Mr. Rob?” you repeated, lifting the plate a little, “Do you want some cheese?”

Lucci stared at you. His eyes locked only on you—on your absurd gesture, at the very fact you were even standing on your own, not even two days after he’d slammed your head into the concrete. And for just a moment, something complicated flickered across Lucci’s flat eyes before he recentered his neutral expression.

“No,” he answered curtly, “I don’t want cheese.” 

“Oh,” you said faintly. “Mr. Spandam brought cheese. I’m not sure why.”

“Because he’s incompetent.” Lucci scowled. “And because you are a mouse.” 

You frowned, glancing over the assortment of cheeses. “I suppose that makes sense.” 

“You shouldn’t take gifts from superiors.” 

You nodded slowly. “I don’t usually,” you said, before pointing to one of the cubes. “But this one is smoked.” 

Lucci continued to stare, the memory of you dragging yourself upright over and over darting across his mind. He didn’t want to think about it. It was why he never visited you in the infirmary or asked Kaku for updates. He didn’t want to think about it—about you. Weakness was weakness. Sparring was sparring. The result was always going to be inevitable.

“You shouldn’t be walking around yet.”

“I didn’t want to stay in bed,” you replied. 

“Clearly.” 

A beat passed. You slowly lowered the place of cheese, glancing to the side under Lucci’s scrutinous gaze. Your lips parted, then closed. 

“I don’t know what I did to make you upset,” you breathed. 

Lucci rested his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He shifted, moving just an inch closer. Then, a moment passed. It was just the two of you in the corridor. Tile underfoot. Fluorescent bulbs overhead. 

Finally, Lucci tilted his chin back just slightly. He breathed in, then out. “You kept getting up.” 

You blinked at the words, visible confusion written on your face. “But… We were sparring,” you said. “Wasn’t I supposed to?”

“You don’t try getting up when it’s clear you can barely stand. If you’re hurt, you stay down.” Lucci exhaled, long and controlled, coiling his arms over his broad chest. 

The corner of your mouth dipped. 

“You’d never do that,” you asserted. Your tone wasn’t combative or angry, just an admission of fact. “I don’t know you well, but I can see that much.”

“That’s different,” Lucci spoke, an edge to his voice. 

“It is?” you asked, shaken by something resembling urgency, “I just wanted to try again.” 

Lucci let a low grumble resound in his chest. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “You were done. You should have stayed down. You should’ve stopped.” 

“I didn’t want to,” you said, small, but unintimidated. You didn’t defend yourself with any pride or defiance. All you were was honest, and somehow, that didn’t make things easier. “I do… take myself seriously…”

Lucci continued to watch you for a long moment, his fists clenching once as his jaw flexed, as if trying to physically bite back the words he wanted to say. 

“Next time,” he told you quietly, the two words strained with effort, “If you’re going to keep standing up, you’ll tell me beforehand.”

You scrunched your brow, lips slightly puckered as you sucked on the inside of your cheek. “I will?” 

“Yes, so I don’t break you in half.” 

“Oh.” You nodded a few times with a frown. “That’s fair.”

Lucci turned a foot to continue on his way. “Get some rest,” he said roughly, “And don’t eat that cheese.” 

He turned around fully to continue down the hall. This time, the pitter-patter of steps didn’t follow him. But just as he reached the end of the corridor. 

“Mr. Rob?” you called softly, your voice like a tether that drew him to a pause. “Will we spar again?”

A beat. 

“Yes,” Lucci said, his voice low. “We will.” 

***

Lucci found himself on a high floor atop Enies Lobby when he spied the lights on in the training hall late in the evening. He didn’t see them directly, but the subtle way that light cast onto the side of an adjacent building. No one without enhanced eyes could’ve caught such a minute detail, especially considering the island’s ever-present sun. 

The island’s climate was a direct contrast to the interior of the hall, especially the corner that Lucci found himself passing through. The lights were dimmed to more appropriately match the time. The atmosphere felt cold. 

He followed the subtle sounds of metal, which led him to the acrobatic course. The room was dark except for the diameter in which you’d apparently been training. 

You hung upside down on a suspended hoop, your knees hooked over the metal ring. Your hands were folded over your naval, and your eyes were closed as if you were meditating. You swung back and forth, your body still bruised and bandaged. 

Lucci didn’t walk into the light, stopping just short of it. 

“Why are you here.” It wasn’t a question.

Your eyes snapped open. You craned your neck to look at him as the hoop turned. 

“Oh. Hello, Mr. Rob.”

Lucci scowled. “I thought I told you to rest.”

“I did.” You nodded, closing your eyes again. “I also didn’t eat the cheese.”

“How long did you rest for?” Lucci gruffed. You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off. “Not long enough to begin training again.”

“I’m not training,” you said, extending your arms to make the hoop spin a bit more. “I’m thinking.”

Lucci stepped closer, still scrutinizing you and your patches of bandages. “Upside down.”

“It helps.” 

Lucci was quiet for a long time, watching as you gently spun in front of him, upside down, with your neck exposed to him. You let out a soft hum, something troubled crossing your otherwise peaceful expression. 

“Mr. Spandam said I’m being dispatched tomorrow,” you muttered. “So I wanted to be ready.”

You opened your eyes to find Lucci’s face just a short distance from yours. But you didn’t startle, not even as he reached a hand up to grip the hoop, stopping it from spinning. 

“You’re not ready.” Lucci’s jaw tightened. 

“No,” you admitted, “You’re not wrong.” 

And for a moment, Lucci stood there, close to you, with a hand still on the ring. Rob Lucci was an extremely tall man, even taller in his beast forms. But with you hanging from the ring, he reckoned this was the first time he’d ever been eye level with you. 

“Mr. Rob?” You stared at his mouth. Lucci didn’t know whether or not you were trying to be subtle. 

“What is it?” he asked, scanning your face silently.

“Are your teeth still sharp in your human form?” You moved to reach your hand out, but swiftly recoiled on second thought. “You always do that thing with your jaw.” 

Lucci’s harsh eyes honed in on yours, his expression completely blank. 

“What thing?”

“The way you flex your jaw. You seem like you hold a lot of pressure there. I didn’t know if it was because your devil fruit also affected your body,” you explained, only to be met with more silence. Your gaze didn’t flick away from his mouth. “They’re very pretty,” you said quietly. 

Lucci stared. No one had ever described any part of him as pretty, least of all his teeth.

You continued, “I’m sure you could bite through anything.”

Silence. 

“You’re shaking,” Lucci grumbled, his voice purring in his chest, low and dark. 

“Just a lot of blood rushing to my head.” You smiled weakly. 

Lucci’s scowl deepened. “You’re exhausted. Get down.” 

Your core flexed as you grabbed the bottom of the ring with your hand. “Trying,” you strained. 

Lucci’s eyes flicked over you, the way you held yourself all small and stubborn. And for just a moment, the training room felt a bit too small. 

“Let go,” he ordered. 

Your face scrunched slightly, but you didn’t ask questions. Without a word, you released your hand and unlooped your legs from the ring, and Lucci caught you in his arms. Then, quickly and unceremoniously, he bent to place your feet back on the floor. You swayed, a little dizzy, and neither of you seemed to notice the arm that Lucci kept behind you. 

You turned toward him, smiling. “Thank you.”

Lucci recoiled like you’d burned him. “Don’t make me do that again.” 

“Sorry, Mr. Rob,” you said quickly, despite the fact that Lucci had told you to let go in the first place. Your arms dropped to your sides, a reflex more than an apology. 

Lucci took a step back into the darkened part of the room, one foot a step down onto the concrete ground and one still up on the thick mats under the acrobatics course. 

“If you want to apologize, quit while you’re ahead,” Lucci snapped, glancing away. His jaw tightened. He was doing it again. 

You tilted your head, tentative words stalling on your lips. “Quit CP9?” you asked. “Or the mission tomorrow.” 

Lucci stepped completely to the ground. “Both,” he muttered. “You’re reckless if you think you’re cut out for either.”

Your face fell with a slow, small deflation that affected Lucci more than he wanted to admit, even to himself. You were practically standing on a step-stool, but you still didn’t reach eye level. Your lips parted as you hesitated again. “I… I can handle it,” you asserted. 

You glanced away to take a breath. You coiled your arms around yourself, almost like you were attempting to give yourself a hug. But you didn’t curl in on yourself like he expected. You didn’t grow smaller, even as Lucci watched something else melt off you.

“I belong here,” you said, your voice steadying. It was still soft and stubborn, but it wasn’t small. “You don’t get to tell me I don’t. I might not have been able to defeat you, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other things I can’t win.” 

You stepped to the edge of the mat, unflinching as you stared him down. A rare fire burned in your soft eyes. Even now, even in the face of your open defiance, you appeared as nothing compared to Lucci.

He bristled. His silence only served to darken his demeanor. 

“CP9 doesn’t have time or energy to entertain rats with something to prove,” he spoke coldly. “Unexperienced rookies who don’t take themselves seriously don’t make it on this team. Quit.”

You tried to maintain a brave expression, even as the rest of you seemed to only deflate. You pursed your lips, nodding to yourself. “I will prove it,” you insisted, “You’ll see. I’ll prove that I belong here. To everyone.”

You swiftly bolted off to your left, transforming in an instant before disappearing completely, leaving Lucci in the training room alone. The singular light continued to illuminate the acrobatic ring that continued to sway from the ceiling. 

***

The freighter ebbed beneath your feet. Being on the sea again was a welcome change after the time you spent on land. Perhaps it was something having to do with the vibrations or the steady rhythm of the sea that put you at better ease. 

You infiltrated the ship under the cover of night, having dropped in from above in your mouse-form. You began swift work as soon as your paws touched steel, quickly scurrying into a crawlspace. 

You pattered through the ventilation system. The infiltration part was easy, and the mapping of the ship was even easier. You pattered through the confined metal space, paws scratching as you rounded quickly through the ducts. 

The job hadn’t been a completely blind one, but the kingdom had been less than cooperative when it came to providing the Navy with any information about its exports—including the models of its ships. Some speculation could be made from the vessel’s make. You’d read up on all the information concerning like-models, but the inside was nothing like you’d ever seen before. 

Typically, the government wouldn’t concern itself when it came to lesser kingdoms, especially ones that not only didn’t attend the Reverie, but also only crowned a king within the last decade. However, that changed the moment the Navy heard word that the small island was running shipments to the Revolutionary Army, and the formal ledger had glaring inconsistencies. 

And so you went. Your whiskers twitched as you mentally mapped the interior, going off nothing but vibrations and minute echoes. You had the mind for such work, the visualization of the layout less than a picture or a vision, as much as it was a feeling. You could sense the very walls in your body. The air took on a different sensation to you, as if you’d scanned each section of the freighter with the latest tech from Vegapunk and injected it into your bones. 

The way you drilled yourself mentally as you went was second nature, replaying where you’d just gone and what you’d just seen until the picture came to you coherently in your mind. 

You didn’t have to search long for what you were sent in for. You were about to pass by another vent grate when you spotted the purser’s office. 

The small room was wedged between the loading bay and a four-way intersection. You could hear multiple pairs of boots clamoring from each end of the conjoining hallways, both coming and going. You backtracked a step, eyes tracking the two guards you spotted in the hall. 

You rose up on your hind legs, utilizing your enhanced front teeth to gnaw through the loose screw that held the grate closed. It produced an ugly sound, but the metal gave, causing the grate to tilt diagonally, the corner hitting the bottom of the duct. The passage was tight, but it was just wide enough for you to slip through, dropping down next to a series of boxes. 

Two sets of footsteps grew closer.

“... the slight issue with the cargo. That’s above my pay grade, that’s for sure.”

“Then go talk to the captain about it—”

One of the sailors grabbed the handle to the purser’s office, and when he pushed open the heavy door, you took the opportunity to scurry in behind his heel, disappearing into the periphery of the room.

“Huh? He’s not here.” 

“Let’s check the kitchen. He’s probably raiding the beer again.”

The door swiftly closed. You transformed back into your human form, scanning the room. A twinge of soreness came with the transformation, still a bit tender from your match with Lucci. A desk sat in the center with two large cabinets behind it to the right and left. Shelves of binders, folders, and notebooks lined the rest of the room. 

You made for the desk, crouching behind it as you heard footsteps come closer before they faded. You pulled open the first drawer, only to find a collection of hanging folders. Engine logs, safety inspection checklists, crew logs. Not what you needed. 

You tugged open the second drawer. Maps. Charters. Useless.

You glanced around at the library of paper that surrounded you. You didn’t have enough time to go through all the cabinets. There were far too many documents in the room to sift through. 

You pulled open the bottom drawer, and it was more of the same. As you mentally crunched your options, you rifled through the two skinny drawers on the left-hand side of the desk. Nothing. You hastily pulled open the large bottom unit, only to reveal a shallow container of spare bolts, wires, and—wait… shallow?

Your fingers traced where the tray insert met the edges of the drawer, and with a little effort, you pulled it out to reveal a false bottom. You made short work of that, slicing the perimeter with a claw before it popped open to reveal a safe. 

You nearly hissed in satisfaction. This mission was made for you. The crawling through ducts, chewing passages open, and most of all, cracking safes was little more than an amusing puzzle to you. You grabbed the dial, morphing into your man-beast form as you listened. 

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

The little safe door cracked open. You froze for a moment, steadying your breath as the ship continued to rock below you. You slipped your fingers under the door to open it. 

A neat little stack sat waiting for you—the ledger, the routing slips, a drive. Surely, it couldn’t have been… that easy. You took the ledger, flipping through it to confirm that it was real. 

“Crate 28B - pistol components → Deliver to Drop Point D-40,” it read, “Crate 22K - ballistic plates (unmarked) → Confirm with Contact. Crate 18J - transponder snails, encryption capable → high priority.” 

“Crew rotation must NOT include new hires during the next three cycles,” a note read on a different page. “Offload discreetly at Drop Point K-63—no Navy patrol after 0100.” 

All you were supposed to do was confirm that the ledgers didn’t match. All the government needed was your word before things were taken care of by the rest of the team. Your confirmation was little more than an excuse, a perfect, easy mission to hand to the new recruit. 

All you had to do was look and say yes or no.

But the evidence was here in your hands. And not only was it evidence, but these documents could have held any amount of other information. You were most interested in the data drive. If this ship were supplying the Revolutionary Army, they might even have the location of their island of operations. 

You looked down at the stack in your hands, remembering what Lucci said to you.

You let out a soft huff. You were a serious agent—as serious as the rest of them. 

You stored the routing slips and the drive into the internal pocket of your uniform, but the ledger was far too big. You had to carry it in your arms. Mouse form was impossible now. The moment you transformed, you’d drop everything. 

You had to move, making your way to the door, transforming into your man-beast form to press your ear against the metal. You didn’t move for a long moment. Silence. You slowly opened the door, swiftly slipping out into the hallway. 

You stepped briskly down the hallway, keeping your pace small and light in the way you always moved when you wanted to be overlooked. You held the ledger close, the weight causing light pressure on your forearm as you mentally retraced your steps from the map you pieced together from the vents. 

The corridor stretched. Harsh light hummed above, the bulbs partially flickering just enough to make the stobe offensive. 

A pair of sailors passed you going in the opposite direction. One glanced vaguely your way, his gaze sweeping over you almost absentmindedly. The other one didn’t look at all. You kept your shoulders squared as if you were a part of the ship itself and always had been. 

You walked closer to another crewman who was tinkering with something in a side compartment. An open toolbox sat on the ground next to his boot. He met your eye directly, and you offered a silent nod, one he returned absentmindedly before returning to his work. Not even a second glance. 

You breathed steadily, approaching another intersection of hallways. If you could get a few decks up—ideally to the roof of the bridge or the communication deck—you would be at a decent vantage point to skywalk away. But just as you were about to cross, someone rounded the corner, nearly crashing into you. You side-stepped at the last moment, your enhanced instincts taking over as you muttered a small apology. 

The sailor passed you, looking at you once… and then again.

“Hey!” he barked behind you as you turned sharply down the right-hand corridor. The sound of boots clammored behind you.

You sped up, not quite running yet, as you slipped through stacks of crates and miscellaneous equipment before hurrying up a set of stairs. The sailor who had turned to follow you had started calling to the others scattered around you, yelling for them to stop you. 

“Hey! Stop right there!”

At this point, you would have sifted. If transforming had been an option, you likely wouldn’t have found yourself in this situation in the first place. All you had to do was look. After all, one one-on-one confrontations had never been your strong suit, let alone a gauntlet. While all CP agents were well-rounded, you weren’t without your specialties. You worked best in close-quarters ambush attacks. But this, an open gauntlet, was your worst match. 

You ran, seeking the tightest spaces you could find as you advanced to your destination. The moment you were surrounded would be your loss, but if you could shift the situation into a game of agility… You had a chance. 

You ducked into a maintenance corridor, weaving and sliding around low-hanging pipes and machinery, using your size to your advantage. Your man-beast form was manageable, allowing you to track your pursuers with more precision as you calculated the best route out. 

A hand grazed your sleeve. You pivoted, sending a kick flying back, which resulted in a crisp crack. 

You reached into the pocket of your uniform, fishing out a transponder snail. You ducked under a swinging chain, finding a moment of pause behind a stack of crates. You looked down at the snail. One touch and Spandam would answer immediately. Back-up would arrive with the force of a tidal wave. Lucci would probably tear the entire freighter in two before the word “help” could escape you. 

Your thumb hovered as the sounds of shouting and clattering weapons grew closer. You raised the device to your mouth, then lowered it. You tucked the snail back into your pocket as you continued.

An alarm blared overhead, the clamor all around you growing louder as you went. You reached another winding stairwell, skidding around the corner only to stop short when a crewman blocked your path, pistol drawn. You instinctively backed down a step, only to find another sailor at the bottom of the stairwell. 

“Easy,” the one at the top said, stepping closer. “Let’s just see what you’ve got there.” 

You glanced to your left before quickly closing the space between you, striking the pistol out of his hand and slamming his head against the handle rail. The sailor at the bottom of the stairs fired off a shot as you leaped for the center pole. The first shot lit up the dim stairwell. The bullet ricocheted throughout the confined space. 

You’d already landed behind the crewman at the bottom of the steps, executing a flurry of quick strikes. He stumbled up the stairs, falling back as his ankle got snagged on the metal. The sailor cocked his pistol, firing again at point-blank range. 

You continued to advance even as the bullet grazed your cheek. Your tempest kick was powerful enough to break the staircase beneath him. You leaped over his falling body to the upper side of the stairwell, leaving him to crash into the floor below along with metal debris. 

But just as you made it to the landing, a hand grasped your ankle. You looked back as the crewman clung to you, forcing the back of your thigh to dig into the jagged edge of the step you just cut. Blood flowed freely from his mouth. You didn’t have to see the rest of him to know he’d been sliced open. You bit back a grunt, feeling a crude sharpness pierce your skin. 

“You little—” 

“Finger pistol!”

You went for the kill, his body still weighing you down as he finally fell for good, forcing your leg farther back against the crude metal.

“Ah!” you bit back a cry, bracing yourself as you pulled yourself free. 

You turned to continue up the steps, almost giving out the moment you put weight on your injured leg. A thin line of blood ran down the put of your knee, smudging somewhere around your calf as you continued. You held the handrail in a death grip, gasping with the ledger clutched close. The ship shook, causing you to fall against the wall, barking out another restrained cry as you hit an exposed bolt. 

Voices sounded from below, shots firing off as you ducked, clawing your way to the top of the stairwell. You could smell cold, salty air above, seeping into the stairwell. 

But when you stumbled onto the upper landing, two crewmen were already waiting. One held a pistol and the other held a knife. The pitch black void of night sat just behind them, beckoning to you. 

“Drop the book.” The one with the pistol frowned. But he didn’t even have the barrel pointed at you. The gun’s tip faced down, like he knew he might have to shoot, but didn’t see a danger in front of him to shoot at. 

The man with the knife slowly approached, his eyes locked onto the ledger. But the knife wasn’t even raised. Rather, his hand was extended as if to gingerly take a bag of chips from a runaway rat. 

You took the moment to wonder. You ruminated for a single fraction of a second on whether these two men would approach any other member of CP9 like a scared creature guarding a ball. The thought was fleeting because the answer came to you quickly. 

No. 

You sprang up, ignoring the screaming pain that shot through your body as you sprang up on your legs, shifting into your man-beast form mid-air. You ducked under the arm of the man with the knife, twisting to grab the collar of his shirt and his throat with your other hand. You remembered the way Lucci’s hand felt on the back of your neck. 

“Mouse-Mouse—!” Perhaps these men didn’t think you were a threat. Perhaps CP9 would never see you as a worthy addition to the team. But at the very least, in this moment, close-quarters, ambush attacks were yours. You let your momentum do the rest, bracing your muscles. —“Leopard Slam!”

You slammed him backward into the metal wall of the stairwell— exactly the way Lucci had slammed you. His head hit the edge of the stop stair with a sickening crack, and his knife dropped from his fingers. 

The man with the pistol fired, panicked. The bullet made contact; the speed at which you could instinctually call upon the Iron Body was slower due to a lack of field experience. But you couldn’t even feel it. 

High on adrenaline, you swept the knife up from the floor and hurled it, letting it slip from your fingers with precision. The blade sailed through the air, knocking the pistol out of the crewman’s hand. He screamed, holding his wrist as he stared with wide eyes at his maimed finger. 

More sailors began to swarm you from both sides of the weather deck, far too many of them than you could handle with your injuries. 

You made a run for it, leaping over the railing into the darkness of the night. 

***

Spandam was holding a mission briefing. Or rather, Lucci was holding a mission briefing. The team was carefully split according to the assignments, each unit more than capable of toppling governments and kingdoms alike. Because, unlike the mission you’d been sent on the night prior, the rest of CP9 had actual missions to execute. 

Lucci stood at the front of the meeting room, a projection of a map behind him. The projector screen glowed with enhanced regions and tactical notes that Spandam should have been reviewing. 

Instead, Spandam sat off to the side with a cup of something he pleaded Kalifa to make him (Kaku sent a grunt for a beverage before the altercation turned physical), as he held himself with as much composure as a damp napkin. 

Lucci clicked a remote, shifting maps and populating data with his other hand held formally behind his back.

“Now that we have that established, let’s move on to—”

The doors slowly slid open, cracking a small amount as if someone wanted to slide inside, as if late to a lecture. But instead of some low-level Marine coming back with a refill of Spandam’s drink, you appeared in the doorway.

The briefing ground to a halt as every head in the room turned. Lucci glanced toward the door, blinking once, then twice. 

You stood in the doorway, one hand still crutching the handle. Your clothes were torn, soaked with sweat, and caked with dried blood. Even in your human form, you appeared smaller than usual, exhaustion painted on your face. 

And for a moment, no one said anything.

You gasped out a breath, your dry lips parting. “I got shot,” you squeaked, just as your injured leg gave out under you. 

The entire room moved in an instant. In a room full of highly trained government professionals, your knees didn’t even hit the ground. Voices talked over each other, Spandam’s the loudest out of them all. But you didn’t hear him, not when Lucci appeared over you, wrapping an arm around your slumped torso to keep you from falling. 

You stood with buckled knees, eyes tired and drooping as you looked up at him. The thick ledger was still cradled in your arms. You looked like you’d held it in a death grip the entire time you’d been out.  

Lucci narrowed his gaze toward you, his neutral frown on his lips. 

“I thought you made it back to base last night,” he grumbled. 

Lucci had noticed your absence at this briefing, but assumed you were on rest, given the recon you were sent on the night before. He intended to press Spandam after the meeting about how things went. If he were any more forward about the issue, there was a chance that Lucci could appear invested—something he was most certainly not. 

You blinked at him slowly, as if needing a moment to process what he’d just said. 

“I…” Lucci could feel your diaphragm inflate. “I… hitched a ride… and then walked.” 

The entire room stilled around you as Lucci flexed his jaw. “What do you mean you hitched a ride?” 

His golden gaze narrowed at Spandam, who had appeared in front of you. Spandam crouched down, trying to talk to you at eye level. 

“You’re hurt! You should be in the infirmary—!”

But the low growl that erupted from Lucci’s chest gave Spandam pause. Spandam’s attention shot up to Lucci, who’d reinforced his grasp around your torso, drawing a sharp wince out of you. He’d nearly picked you entirely off the floor. 

“You weren’t extracted?” Lucci asked you, not taking his focus off Spandam, who slowly stood. 

Spandam’s lips morphed into a deep scowl. 

“Don’t you dare glare at me, Lucci—”

You shuffled in Lucci’s grasp, still spilling a few small drops of blood onto the floor. You were wrapped up in make-shift bandages, which weren’t nearly enough for your injuries. You tugged a few items from your pocket, shuffling them on top of the large book you held. Lucci had barely noticed you were holding it. You presented the ensemble, holding it out with shaky arms. 

Spandam squinted his eyes, his face scrunching up with ugly, confused scrutiny. But he wasn’t allowed to blink at the stack of documents for long, as Lucci took the collection in one hand, shoving it toward Spandam before Lucci turned and walked out the door. 

He lifted you fully into his arms like you weighed nothing, with one arm under your knees and the other braced behind your back. 

You stirred against him, dazed. “I… did it wrong, didn’t I?”

Lucci continued down the hall. The way he held you wasn’t gentle—no, Lucci had no concept of gentleness—but stable. His chest was firm and his arms were strong. The moment your body felt secure, your muscles melted against your will. 

You stirred again. This time, you tried to push him away and extend your leg to land on the ground. The action was half-hearted and no match against Lucci’s most miniscule of efforts. Lucci shifted you roughly in his arms.

“Stay still,” he grumbled. “You’re making a mess.” 

“I can walk—”

“No,” Lucci said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You can’t.”

You deflated against him, blinked up at him with tired eyes, confused by the lack of bite. Lucci didn’t meet your eye, but he clenched his teeth, continuing on his way. You glanced down, suddenly feeling sheepish.

“I didn’t mean to worry anyone,” you admitted softly.

“You didn’t,” Lucci gruffed. “You inconvenienced everyone.”

Your tired head rested against Lucci’s shoulder. You pressed a hand over your crudely bandaged gunshot wound. 

“You can put me down. I’m going to keep getting back up, you know,” you insisted quietly, only to be met with Lucci’s silence. “I didn’t want to make you do it again.” 

The corners of Lucci’s mouth turned slightly downward. “Again?” he repeated. You could feel the word rumble in his chest. 

Your fingers curled in the fabric of his jacket. “Earlier. On the training course. You had to—well, you didn’t have to, but you caught me, and you said—”

“Stop talking,” Lucci grumbled. 

You complied immediately. 

Lucci continued down the hallway, and for a while, there was nothing but the echo of Lucci’s shoes against the tile. For someone so aloof and cold, the heat that came off his skin was surprisingly warm. You hadn’t even realized you were drifting off until he spoke. 

“You weren’t supposed to retrieve anything,” Lucci finally said. He could hear your slow breath. “All we needed was a confirmation, but instead, you got yourself into a situation where you were compromised and injured.” 

He glanced down at the top of your head. “I strongly suspect you didn’t even call for help,” he muttered.

Lucci had half the mind to scoff and roll his eyes, but even that would have been too much of a crack in his already compromised exterior. Because after you’d been out all night—after you’d lugged evidence you hadn’t needed to all the way across the sea, only you would have the audacity to bleed all over his suit and promptly fall asleep in his arms. 

And yet, he still continued to speak.

“You… exceeded requirements.” His voice was quiet, almost as if he were muttering to himself. The words came out rough and begrudging, like an admission he was forced to admit. “It was… more than expected.” 

Your only answer was a soft exhale of sleep. 

Lucci looked forward again as he rounded the last corner before the infirmary. You remained asleep—trusting, unaware, and vulnerable in the arms of the government’s most lethal killer. 

It was the closest he could get to praise.

The closest he’d ever given anyone.

You never heard it. 

***

A week passed. During that time, you’d been cleared to resume light activities again. Enies Lobby was the same as it usually was—somewhat sterile, slightly stuffy, and just a bit outdated. You finally had time to get your uniform tailored, and the way people looked at you had shifted since you brought the ledger back.

“Hey! Mighty Mouse!” Jabra called from the other end of the corridor you were passing. 

He waved, laughing in the way friends did. You waved back, smiling the same smile you’d been practicing for a lifetime. 

It seemed like, to everyone else, something fundamental about you had changed. You could feel it in the way they spoke to you, like you were something resembling an equal rather than condescension. You were sure that the more missions you went on, the more CP9 would feel like home. 

But for you, nothing felt all that different. 

Lucci didn’t visit you in the infirmary, but he did find you once more in the training hall. The hoop in the center of the acrobatics course swung gently. You looked nearly the same as the last time he’d found you here—fingers intertwined, eyes closed, and a peaceful look on your face. 

He stopped at the edge where the floor turned into soft tumbling mats. Lucci watched you for a moment as you concentrated.

After a few moments had passed, you opened your eyes and smiled. “You came back,” you said with a grin. 

Lucci stepped onto the mat. “You still have 48 more hours of bed rest.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. 

You let out a sheepish giggle. “So the thing is… I’m not very good at bed rest.”

Lucci took another step, finding himself face to face with you once more. He wore his usual, neutral frown. His eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned an inch forward. “I think you’ve more than demonstrated that you have no regard for your own boundaries.”

“Can I touch your teeth?” 

Lucci gritted behind his closed lips, now hyper-aware of the motion. 

“No,” he answered flatly. 

Your mouth formed an acute pout, though you didn’t appear hurt by the refusal. “Why not?”

“Because you don’t need to touch my teeth.”

“But Mr. Rob—”

“Lucci.” He cut you off flatly.

“Sorry.” Your voice went down a few notches in volume. “Lucci.”

The interruption seemed to have flustered you the slightest bit. You reached up to the ring, slowly pulling yourself up to sit on it, your feet still dangling down. The ring began to spin slowly, and Lucci stopped it with a hand when you were facing him again. 

“I… I just…” You gripped the sides of the hoop, glancing away. “It’s just… when I came back, when I brought the ledger back, you were…” You pursed your lips. “... doing that thing with your jaw again. And growling. And I thought maybe it was a devil fruit thing or—”

“It wasn’t,” Lucci cut, his eyes flat. 

“Oh,” you hummed, and just when Lucci thought that was the end of the conversation— “Do they feel… different to you? Like when they’re clenched together? Or maybe on your gums? I had to get used to my front teeth in my beast forms.”

“They’re teeth.” Lucci scowled. “Not a novelty.” 

“I think they’re novel.” You smiled, finally meeting his eyes again. He hadn’t taken them off you for a second. “So… can I see them?”

Lucci’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t answer at first. He didn’t move. But then, he exhaled through his nose, slowly growing taller as fur grew across his skin. His frame grew broader, and his pupils formed narrow slits. Even perched high on the hoop, Lucci’s head was now somewhat level with your stomach. 

Your breath caught as he slowly lowered his head, his muzzle resting gently on your knee. Gradually, Lucci opened his mouth to reveal large, sharp fangs. You gulped slightly. 

“I’ll be careful,” you breathed. “I promise.”

His whiskers twitched. A low rumble ruminated in his chest. 

You reached forward gingerly, your fingertips brushing against the edge of a canine, tracing the shape of it lightly. Lucci didn’t move, his eyes closed as he let you run a finger over his fangs. 

“They’re very pretty,” you whispered. Lucci purred out another low growl. “They’re nothing like what I imagined.” You pulled your finger from his mouth. Your hand rested on your knee. You could still feel Lucci’s fur against your knuckle. 

“And what were you imagining?” Lucci’s eyes opened, revealing a golden, predatory gaze. His voice was low and rough.

Your hand ghosted over your lips in absentminded thought. “Well,” you started. “My teeth are a lot less… sharp. Less pointy. I feel like in comparison to you, I seem… fragile.” 

Lucci roared out a laugh, one that would have shocked you off the ring if he wasn’t still holding it with one paw. He tilted his head slightly, his amused gaze flickering across his face. 

“You are far from fragile.” 

Lucci withdrew, shifting back into human form. He held your gaze, silence overtaking the training hall. He didn’t say anything back. And for the first time, he let you breathe, suspended in your own sort of victory. That night, Lucci stayed with you.