#lucci x reader

imagine Rob Lucci in a softer mood tonight ~ for @mlemiie , keep your head up high dollie !!! ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱ 18+ mdni petname: “doll” will be used !

you didn’t notice it at first when he came home, but the signs where there. subtle, faint. with the way he had stroked your cheek whilst you read; slow, careful and entirely out of his character. it caught you off guard. Enough to make your eyes widen when he kissed your cheek. and gently pushed you onto the bed sheets.

it was done all slow, focused and methodical it almost made you stutter. he kissed your cheek, your jaw, travelling to your neck and collarbones.

Lucci’s nibbles were faint, almost just small nips and tighter kisses. hands groping your chest, one calloused hand lifting your thigh.

“you’re mine” he breathed against your skin, kissing your jaw again. “all mine.” he skims your pantie line with one finger, teasing, caressing. “say it.” he circles over the fabric, pressing one thumb and finger onto your clit and folds. earning your answer. “yours. im yours, lucci”

and he kisses you on the lips, sealing that proclamation. slipping two lengths into your folds, panties still on as he fingers you, thumb circling your clit.

you spread your legs and wrap yourself over his abdomen, arms slung over his shoulders.

“l-lucci.. i—” you breathe out his name, growing close as he fingers fucks you through it, kissing your neck. “louder.” he commands and you obey.

he lets you reach your high, lets you cum and squeeze your thighs against him. fingering you through it. and he just takes in your face during it. “you look pretty like this, vulnerable and weak by me.” he kisses you again, forcing your cheeks to burn. and as you come down your high, he brings his fingers to his mouth and give them a quick lick before sliding your pantie down your thigh, grabbing your hips as he aligns himself above you. his touch soft. not rough. not mean. but soft. and the way his gaze has been on you tonight — dark and stoic but not.. cold. it’s unusual.

“lucci, is everything okay?” he knows what you mean but his expression remains quiet, passive with only the faintest pull of brows. hand landing on your cheek, thumb rubbing. a gesture unheard of. and just when you think he’ll speak, he shoves himself into you. turning rough.

his length fills you up, hitting up to your cervix as he steadily moves his hips, fucking you slow and measured. taking in every moan you make, every breath hitched and spine arched as his grip on your hips digs deeper. harder. his pace starting to match his need, his lust and desire to just fuck you more.

you repeat his name, over and over again as he thrusts into you, and he drinks it all up with a frown, your walls sucking him in, control starting to shatter. “yeah, let them all know who you belong to, fuck—“ his hips stutters when your legs clench around him tighter, eliciting a muffled groan from him. he falls forward, thrusting into you deeper as his breath is on your neck, “i’m gonna mark you, knot you up if i have to, let them all know who’s doll this is.”

and he does. he pounds into you, rhythm growing sloppy as you and him become nothing but sex, scent and sweat. your wet and squelching as he forces himself into you. when he cums, he’ll still fuck you, rut into you, not stopping as he fills you up with his seeds or when he press a hand over ur stomach, and watch his cum squeeze out. tonight, he’s going to fuck his cubs into you, so to scent you, mark you. leave an imprint on himself on you. you’re his afterall.

Imagine Rob Lucci fucking you senseless after a long day at work. ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱ 18+ mdni

I can imagine him being tired, all pent up after spending weeks doing dirty Government business, and once home he’ll find you dozed off in bed. Cute, small, and terribly vulnerable.

He can’t help himself tracing your shoulder, long hair slithering down your cheeks as he starts skimming his hand down your thigh. reaching between your lace. When you whine all slurry from sleep he’ll only hum, fingers making it past your panties.

“Shhh, sit still.” Voice low, dark before slipping a finger between your folds. he’ll want to make you wet for him before thrusting into you like the little doll you are. he’ll start fingering you, first slow and steady, your thighs clenching against his hand, making him tch’

“you want me to stop? no? then behave.” and when you listen he circles your clit as reward, go down and kiss your neck and collarbones, fingering starting to grow fast, sloppy and wet. hearing your cute moans makes him so hard, nibbling your throat to keep himself from dry humping you.

and when you press your ass against his crotch, nudging and feeling how hard he is, that’s when his self control snaps at last and slips his cock out his slacks. his hard blunt edging your pretty cunt before slipping in. and he won’t be gentle or slow no he’s going to fuck you like he owns you, your back pressed against his chest as he manhandles your breast and clit.

he’s spent so much time away from you he can’t help being so sloppy and mean, thrusting into like you’re some meat glove, his pace hard, erratic, keeping his low grunts inside of him as he feels how tight and wet your walls are around him.

He’s missed you so much, your scent, your skin your moans, spending weeks without having you to suck him off has made his need for control turn strained. all he wants is to feel your walls throb against him. his fucking starts becoming becoming fast, pacing turning you over to your stomach to rut in to you.

“l-lucci—“ he shoves a finger inside that loud mouth of yours. “keep quiet,” when you gag on his finger he smirks, hand going to your throat instead. Squeezing his grip as he fucks you from behind. his other hand circles, nudges and pulls on your clit relentlessly. your legs starting to shake.

you cry out his name, feeling your walls clench around him as he grips onto you like you’re his slut and not his girl. your walls are throbbing when you eventually reach your orgasm.

“lucci.. im gonna—“ he’ll lean into your ear, breath hot. “cum then, you’ve earnt it.” and you do, clenching and tensing as he fucks you through your high. feeling his hot seed pool down your abdomen. filling you to the very brim and still, he keeps moving. Rutting into you, hips still moving, slower this time. and when you heave, face pressing into your pillows only then will he momentarily stop, still sheathed inside of you before kissing your temple.

“you’re too good for me,” hand placing itself over your stomach. Pressing his hand and you whine, still feeling him inside of you. “but im not done with you just yet.”

seriously, work really pent him up (๑•́ -•̀) ‧₊˚.

One Piece | Lucci | 3.2k | Masterlist

Many years ago, you’d learned there was very little in the world as delightfully relaxing as a good massage. Who would have thought an investigation into a rebel group could introduce you to such luxury? It was lucky, then, that you had arrived in Water 7 just in time to receive an immediate invitation to this beautiful place.

Water trickled down a tall pane of glass behind you, the steady sound blending with the low hush of the bathhouse. Ferns and long trailing vines spilled from hanging planters overhead, their leaves brushing the wooden beams of the ceiling.

The woman who had finished your facial slipped quietly from the room, the door sliding shut behind her. A wind chime somewhere in the corridor answered with a soft, irregular plink.

“Are you excited for your wedding?” Kaku asked.

One Piece | Lucci | 3.0k | Masterlist

Water 7 excited you far more when you returned, a month after your last visit. The sun beamed high above the city and a fresh sea wind brought the taste of salt and fresh seafood to you as you strolled through the streets.

A surprising number in the crowds called out greetings. You smiled prettily and raised your hand in greeting; clearly that side comment from Blueno had been more impactful than you thought.

You found you really didn’t mind it.

Spandam had not been happy with the adjustment but he was also terrified of Lucci and even his influence couldn’t change the core of what he was. A coward. Lucci couldn’t kill him without repercussion but it seemed that he’d started to doubt whether or not the agent may see it as an acceptable consequence.

Ft: Cipher Pol 9 Men!

Warnings: OOC(?), Not proofread, lightly suggestive(?)

(Happy new year! Starting this year with new years kissing hcs with cipher pol 9 and admirals! (Can be found in my profile) enjoy!)

🐆Lucci🐆

Doesn’t understand why it’s so important to kiss on new years, but does it with their partner anyway if they wish for it. Nothing showy, simply grabbing you gently by the waist and a short kiss.

🦒Kaku🦒

This man is bashful kissing in public, though he has a stoic face, the flush on his cheeks gives it away. Hugs their partner close and asking (like a dandy) if it’s alright to kiss them before giving a proper smooch.

🐺Jabra🐺

Gloating. This man is showing off that he’s kissing “the most beautiful person of all” for new years, but when it comes to the moment he freezes and turns a deep red, once his confidence returns he gives a wolfish kiss, showing off for anyone around but he’s overjoyed to spend the new year with them.

🚪Blueno🚪

Stoic, as usual, but more intimate than lucci. He chuckles at the suggestion and agrees to the new years kiss, but he spends the entire eve with them for dinner, fireworks, just a nice date. He takes them to a nice place away from everyone with assistance from his door door fruit for the kiss, with an amazing view of the fireworks.

🤐Fukarou🤐

Agrees while looking like a toasted marshmallow from blush. This man barely even expected to have a partner at all, but he’s shy and likes giving affection in private. Spends time with their partner gossiping and sharing food before the drop and giving a shy peck when the clock hits (careful of the zipper! Might pinch)

🌸Kumadori🌸

Overdramatic, but excited. He gets all cozy and takes them to a new years festival. Makes dramatic poems about how he cherishes every moment and can’t wait to start the year together as lovers. Kisses them with passion, because this man is the embodiment of it.

🐼Spandam🐼

nothing he doesn’t get shit for new years fuck you spandam

Happy 2026! Hopefully this year is good :)

You: I like that you’re a hard worker… and that you’re always dressed so nice…but, Lucci… You have one mean resting face.

Lucci: *stone cold* What do you mean?

You: You look like you’re ready to snap someone’s neck in an instant. It just kind of makes me uneasy, even if I find you attractive.

Lucci: …Perhaps, but consider this, instead. *gestures to Hattori on his shoulder*

Hattori: *does the coo*

Lucci: Become mine, and you can hear that sound anytime you wish.

The Woman Who Doesn’t Care He’s Dangerous

Taglist: @weirdnewbie @jennilynn63

Divider by: @dollywons

Two days later

Morning on Maohi Island was always the same—

Warm sun.

Gentle breeze.

Waves tapping against the shore like a lazy drummer.

But for you, the morning wasn’t scenery. It was routine.

Your café opened at dawn.

Not because you enjoyed waking up early—though you didn’t mind it—

but because tourists, fishermen, and half the island relied on your breakfast menus.

Your routine was simple:

Pick fresh fruit from the local orchard.

Gather edible flowers for tea blends.

Prep dough for pastries.

Organize tables.

Take inventory.

And above all—

Make sure the café felt like home to anyone who walked into it.

You lived for that warm, cozy bustle of the morning crowd.

Today, however, something was different.

Hattori was missing.

He usually showed up perch-first at your door with the sunrise.

But he was nowhere in sight when you started gathering a fresh basket of morning ingredients: passion fruit, bananas, small citrus, and a handful of bright pink hibiscus blossoms.

You shrugged to yourself.

He was probably babysitting his grumpy owner.

Poor bird.

You stood on the cliffside garden behind your café—your secret source of edible flowers and herbs—and snipped a few more blossoms from a blooming vine. The air smelled like sunlight and honey.

That’s when you heard it:

A flutter.

A familiar one.

You didn’t need to turn around.

“Hattori,” you sighed affectionately, “you’re late.”

A soft coo answered you.

He swooped down, landing neatly on your shoulder with the grace of a trained dancer. His feathers brushed your cheek in greeting.

“There you are.”

You reached up to scratch the side of his head. “I thought your owner had you doing, I don’t know—push-ups or assassination drills or something.”

Hattori puffed proudly.

You snorted.

“Oh please, don’t encourage him.”

Hattori tilted his head toward your basket, spotting the freshly snipped hibiscus.

You hadn’t even blinked before—

SNATCH.

You stared at your now one-hibiscus-short basket.

Hattori stared back with the unconcerned gaze of a thief who had no regrets.

“…Really?” you asked. “You couldn’t at least take one of the ugly ones?”

Hattori cooed smugly.

You sighed, plucked another blossom, and dropped it in the basket.

Then you turned and began walking back toward the café entrance, Hattori still perched happily on your shoulder and chewing his floral loot.

“You know,” you mused aloud, “I’m pretty sure your owner doesn’t approve of you stealing from people."

Hattori paused. Gulped the last bite.

Then pecked your cheek in defiance.

You laughed.

“Okay, okay—you’re right. I don’t count.”

You stepped into your café—a small, handmade building of pale wood, open windows, and counters filled with teas, pastries, and jars of dried fruit. The shelves behind the counter were lined neatly with blends you’d made yourself:

Hibiscus-Honey Calm

Citrus Blossom Morning

Chamomile & Sea Salt

Passion Berry Revitalize

Every corner of the café smelled like herbs and sugar and sunlight.

It was yours.

Every beam. Every teacup. Every plant.

Home.

You set the basket on the counter and began sorting through the contents.

Hattori hopped onto the rim of the basket and peered down as if inspecting your work.

“Unless you plan on helping,” you told him, “you can’t sit there.”

Hattori chirped.

You nudged him gently off the basket.

He fluttered to a nearby jar of dried lavender and perched on top, supervising.

You shook your head.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to spend the entire morning here.”

Hattori cooed, tone suspiciously similar to yes, what about it?

You couldn’t help smiling.

“Well then. Hope your boss doesn’t mind.”

He minded.

But you didn’t know that yet.

What you did know was the rhythm of the morning crowd.

The café filled quickly—locals grabbing tea, fishermen grabbing toasted bread with fruit jam, tourists taking photos of the carved wooden walls and flower arrangements.

As you greeted customers, served drinks, and reorganized shelves, Hattori simply… followed you.

Perching on high rafters.

Stealing edible flower petals.

Landing on your shoulder when someone laughed too loudly.

Pecking at the hem of your shirt when he wanted attention.

It became an unspoken routine—

You working,

Hattori observing like a tiny feathered supervisor.

A couple customers giggled.

One woman whispered to her husband,

“That bird has better manners than my brother.”

Another joked,

“Is this part of the café experience? A pigeon butler?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled through it.

After the morning rush finally settled, you exhaled deeply and wiped your forehead.

“That was a lot,” you said to Hattori. “And you didn’t help at all.”

Hattori made an offended coo.

“I said what I said.”

He strutted dramatically across the counter.

You snorted.

“You picking fights with me? You want to go?”

Hattori raised a wing as if to slap-box you.

You couldn’t help but laugh—

—and that was the sound Lucci walked in on.

He stood in the doorway, silent and unreadable.

Still in the light linen clothes from yesterday.

Hair slightly damp—

He must’ve washed it recently.

Sunlight framed him sharply, making his tall silhouette cut through the soft glow of your café.

His eyes flicked to you.

Then to Hattori.

Then back to you.

“You took my pigeon,” he said.

You blinked.

Hattori cooed innocently.

You crossed your arms.

“I didn’t take him. He showed up.”

“He was supposed to stay with me during orientation today.”

“Oh,” you said, nonchalant. “I didn’t realize you needed a babysitter.”

Lucci’s expression tightened.

“You’re early.”

“No,” you corrected, “you’re late.”

He stepped inside.

The café felt smaller immediately.

“You said noon,” he said.

“I said around noon,” you corrected. “And the fact that you took that literally says a lot.”

“I value punctuality.”

“And I value flexibility.”

“Flexibility results in inefficiency.”

“Rigid schedules result in ulcers.”

Lucci stared at you.

You stared back.

Hattori pecked a flower petal as if eating popcorn.

Finally, Lucci broke the silence.

“You own this establishment.”

“Congratulations,” you said dryly. “You’ve solved the mystery.”

He ignored your tone.

“You are busy.”

“I run a café,” you said with an incredulous look. “Of course I’m busy.”

“This does not interfere with your obligation to supervise me?”

“Is that what you think this is?”

He said nothing.

You leaned against the counter.

“I’m not your keeper, Lucci. I’m supposed to help you adjust so you don’t terrify the locals. That’s it.”

“Your methods are… unconventional.”

“My methods work.”

“For whom?”

You smirked.

“For everyone except you.”

You walked past him toward the back storage room, basket in hand.

“Come on,” you called over your shoulder. “Since you’re here, you can help.”

Lucci didn’t move.

You poked your head back into the doorway.

“Oh, right. You don’t do ‘helping.’ Never mind then—go lurk somewhere.”

Lucci frowned.

He hated the insinuation that he was useless.

He hated the idea of you assuming he couldn’t do something.

And he hated how much he cared that you thought that.

Without a word, he followed you.

The café’s back garden was a shaded courtyard filled with herbs and flowers.

You knelt beside a bed of mint and started trimming.

Lucci stood behind you like a soldier standing guard.

“You can sit, you know,” you said.

“I prefer standing.”

“I figured.”

Silence settled for a bit.

Not comfortable.

But not hostile either.

Hattori fluttered down to your knee and supervised again.

You plucked a lavender sprig and held it toward him.

He accepted it without hesitation.

Lucci watched—

Quiet.

Observant.

Something unreadable in his eyes.

“You treat him differently,” he said.

“He’s a sweetheart,” you replied. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“He is a trained carrier pigeon.”

“He’s still allowed to be cute.”

“He has a role.”

“So do I,” you said lightly. “Doesn’t stop me from liking flowers.”

Lucci was quiet again.

You could feel him thinking.

Finally—softly, reluctantly—

“…He likes you.”

You looked up at him.

His eyes flicked away when you caught him staring.

Careful.

Controlled.

Guarded.

You smiled, but not teasingly.

“I like him too.”

Lucci exhaled—slow, deliberate, as if he hadn’t realized tension had been coiled in his chest.

You clipped another mint sprig and stood.

“Hold this,” you said, handing him the basket.

He stared at it like it was foreign technology.

But he took it.

You added herbs.

Flowers.

Fruits.

Using his hands as if they were an extra counter.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t complain.

Just held the basket steady while you worked.

You caught him glancing at you again.

Noticing your concentration.

The way you moved.

The way the sun hit your hair.

The way Hattori nuzzled your ear.

He looked away quickly each time.

Like he couldn’t help staring—

But couldn’t allow himself to be caught.

You pretended not to notice.

Finally, he said:

“This is unnecessary.”

“What, the herbs?”

“All of this.”

“Welcome to vacation.”

“It is inefficient.”

“It is normal.”

He went silent.

You straightened, dusting dirt off your hands.

“Lucci.”

He looked at you fully now.

“You’re here to decompress,” you said softly. “Not to analyze everything to death.”

He didn’t respond.

So you stepped closer—

close enough to feel his breath shift.

“Relax,” you said.

“It won’t kill you.”

He stared at you for a long moment.

A long, long moment.

“…You are irritating,” he murmured.

You grinned.

“And you’re predictable.”

“Predictable?”

“You’ve been glaring at herbs for ten minutes.”

He stiffened.

You laughed.

And to your shock—

and his—

the corner of his mouth twitched.

Just slightly.

As if he almost smiled.

Almost.

Hattori chirped proudly.

You took back the basket.

“Come on,” you said. “We’re opening the café for lunch. Since you’re here, you can help me carry chairs.”

Lucci raised a brow.

“I am not carrying chairs.”

“You carried the basket.”

“That was different.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“It was beneath me.”

“Oh?” you teased. “So now you’re too dignified to carry furniture?”

His eyes narrowed.

“Fine,” he said through clenched teeth, “one chair.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“Deal.”

By the time noon arrived—

The café was bustling again.

Customers filtered in, filling tables.

You moved between them with practiced ease, pouring tea and delivering small plates.

Lucci sat in a corner, watching with unreadable focus.

Studying.

Observing.

Maybe even… relaxing?

Hattori stayed with you the whole time.

He hopped along shelves.

Stole petals.

Nudged your hand when you reached for cups.

Every so often, you felt Lucci’s gaze on you.

Sharp.

Confused.

Something else you couldn’t name.

Not attraction.

Not yet.

But something softer than disdain.

Something like…

interest.

After the rush slowed down, you approached him.

“You survived,” you said, setting a small glass in front of him. “That’s chamomile with hibiscus. Helps with tension.”

“I do not have tension.”

You gave him a look.

He muttered, “…Fine.”

He took the glass.

You leaned on the table, arms crossed casually.

“You did good today.”

He blinked.

“…I did nothing.”

“You didn’t brood anyone into running away. That’s progress.”

Lucci’s jaw moved.

“I don’t brood.”

“Tell that to the sea turtles that swam away earlier.”

“They confused me for a predator.”

“No,” you said, “they can sense bad moods.”

Lucci stared.

You smiled victoriously.

Silence stretched—warm, lazy silence—not the charged tension from yesterday.

Then—

“…You are unusual,” Lucci said quietly.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“It absolutely was.”

He looked away.

You let him.

Then you said it—

the line that made him stiffen.

“Same time tomorrow?”

He swallowed.

“…For what?”

“For existing without terrorizing the island.”

He exhaled slowly.

As if surrendering.

“…Fine.”

You smiled.

Lucci didn’t.

But his eyes—

those sharp, cold, golden eyes—

seemed a little less frozen.

Just a little.

Hattori pecked your cheek.

And for the first time…

Sand, Sun, and Someone Infuriating

Taglist: @weirdnewbie @jennilynn63

Divider by: @dollywons

Maohi Island looked exactly like the kind of place Rob Lucci would never willingly set foot in.

The moment he stepped off the transport boat, heat swallowed him whole—thick, fragrant air loaded with salt, hibiscus pollen, and an obnoxious sense of cheerfulness. The sun shone too brightly. The ocean glimmered too happily. The gulls cried too freely.

Lucci hated it on sight.

Hattori however, ruffled pleasantly, cooing at the warm breeze like it was a long-lost lover.

“Traitor,” Lucci muttered.

The dock bustled with locals and resort staff in bright uniforms, all of them too energetic for this early in the morning. Lucci stood in the middle of it all like a shadow in a watercolor painting—crisp black suit, expression like carved ice, hands behind his back.

A staff member approached him with the wide, wary smile of someone who’d been warned.

“You must be Mr… uh… Lucci!” she chirped, though her voice cracked slightly. “Welcome to Maohi! We’re so happy to have you—”

“I’m not here by choice,” he cut in.

Her smile faltered.

“R-right. Of course. Your escort should be arriving shortly.”

“I do not require an escort.”

“Well, uh… the Mayor insisted. Said something about ensuring you’re ‘integrated into the island experience.’”

Lucci’s jaw tightened. “I am not here to experience anything.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

Hattori flapped his wings at her in reassurance. The woman nearly fainted from nerves.

Lucci exhaled slowly. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be anywhere that required sunglasses, sunscreen, or public interaction. A mission—any mission—would have been preferable.

But orders were orders.

He scanned the pier, ready to glare at whoever his “escort” was supposed to be—

—and then he felt it.

A presence. Not threatening, but piercing. A gaze that touched him like a hand poking at a bruise he didn’t know he had.

He turned.

And that’s when he saw you.

You walked toward him like you owned the pier.

Loose linen pants swayed with your stride, and a lightweight button-down shirt was knotted at your waist—practical clothes for the island heat, but you wore them with the calm confidence of someone who had nothing to prove. A leather satchel hung over one shoulder, bouncing against your hip with each step.

The sun framed you from behind, giving your outline a faint glow that annoyed him on principle.

You stopped in front of him, hands on your hips, sizing him up from head to toe.

Unhurried.

Unintimidated.

Unimpressed.

“Rob Lucci?” you asked. Not a hint of hesitation.

Lucci stared back. “Yes.”

You nodded like that confirmed every suspicion you already had.

Great. One of those.

The staff woman nearly collapsed with relief.

“Mayor’s daughter!” she gasped. “Thank goodness you’re here!”

Ah.

The Mayor’s daughter.

His forced handler.

Perfect.

You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“So. You’re the government attack dog they dumped on our island.”

Lucci felt the muscles in his jaw shift.

He wasn’t accustomed to people being so… direct.

“‘Government operative,’” he corrected coolly.

You shrugged. “Same difference. You bite people when told.”

Hattori let out a scandalized coo.

Lucci stared at you with a gaze that froze lesser men.

You didn’t even blink.

“Follow me,” you said, already turning on your heel. “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying. And before you complain—no, you don’t get a say in it.”

Lucci didn’t move.

Hattori tilted his head at him, questioning.

You turned back, impatience sparking in your eyes.

“What, did they forget to pack your social skills along with your luggage?”

The dock went silent.

A couple locals stifled laughter.

Lucci’s brow ticked lower.

“You are remarkably rude,” he said flatly.

“Thank you,” you said cheerfully. “Now come on. Sun’s only going to get hotter.”

He followed. Irritated. And curious despite himself.

Your stride was efficient, decisive, but relaxed in a way Lucci couldn’t replicate even under threat of death. You walked ahead but not too far—just enough to make sure he’d follow, but not enough to suggest you cared whether he did.

Hattori fluttered onto your shoulder and stayed there.

Lucci froze.

You glanced sideways at the bird.

“Oh? You coming with me now?”

Hattori cooed affectionately.

Lucci narrowed his eyes.

“Hattori. Return.”

Hattori cooed louder and nuzzled into your cheek.

You laughed softly.

Lucci’s eyebrow twitched.

Traitor. Again.

“He seems to like me,” you said casually.

“He doesn’t ‘seem’ anything. He is easily manipulated.”

“Or maybe he just knows a good person when he sees one.”

You didn’t say it as a jab. Not aloud. But the implication hung there anyway.

Lucci looked away.

Your path wound through the island’s central town—a lively coastal village full of open-air cafés, wood-carved shop signs, flower garlands hanging from rafters. Children ran barefoot along stone paths. Fruit vendors laughed under palm trees. Locals greeted you by name.

You waved back at each one without breaking stride.

“You’re popular,” Lucci said.

“I’m the Mayor’s daughter. Comes with the job.”

“You seem comfortable with it.”

“Someone has to be.” You shot him a look. “Not everyone enjoys scowling for a living.”

“I do not scowl.”

“You absolutely do.”

“I do not.”

You stopped walking, turned fully, and pointed directly at his face.

“That is a scowl.”

Lucci stared.

“It is my neutral expression.”

“Looks like you’re planning a homicide.”

Lucci said nothing.

“Multiple homicides,” you corrected.

Hattori nodded.

Lucci exhaled through his nose.

“Are you always this insufferable?” he asked.

“Only with people who deserve it.”

“…And what have I done to deserve it?”

“You arrived on my island wearing a suit in ninety-degree weather. That’s enough.”

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Fair point.

Your destination appeared at the end of a palm-lined road—

A secluded bungalow, elevated on polished wooden beams over crystal-blue water. Its thatched roof rustled in the breeze. A rope hammock swayed lazily beside the porch.

It was… beautiful.

A fact Lucci hated immediately.

“This is your place,” you announced. “The resort likes to put their ‘high maintenance’ guests out here so they don’t scare off the normal ones.”

“I am not high maintenance,” Lucci said stiffly.

You gave him a once-over.

“All this says otherwise.”

You gestured vaguely at his entire existence.

Lucci stepped inside before he considered violence.

The interior was infuriatingly perfect.

Soft lighting. Cool shade. Ocean waves right beneath the floorboards. A king-sized bed draped with white linen. A private deck overlooking the water.

And, worst of all, peace.

He hated it.

“Your scheduled activities start tomorrow,” you said, leaning casually in the doorway. “Today you’re free to do whatever you want.”

“I do not require activities.”

“You do,” you corrected. “Trust me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Lucci’s eye twitched again.

Hattori perched on your shoulder still, completely content.

You watched Lucci take in the room, then crossed your arms.

“Look,” you said slowly, “I get it. You don’t want to be here. You don’t want help. You don’t want to feel anything except whatever grim, cold thunderstorm you’ve got going on inside that head.”

He paused.

You stepped closer, gaze steady.

“But you’re on my island now. And while you’re here? You follow my rules.”

He turned to face you fully.

“You think you can command me?”

You didn’t back down.

“Someone has to. You clearly don’t listen to authority unless they threaten to extend your vacation.”

Lucci’s chest tightened.

You smiled—not kind, not mocking, but challenging.

A spark. A provocation.

“Don’t worry,” you said softly. “I’m very good at handling stubborn animals.”

Hattori cooed.

Lucci’s eyebrow twitched so hard it nearly spasmed.

“I am not an animal.”

You tilted your head.

“Prove it.”

The words hit harder than you realized—but the way your eyes held his made something inside him shift.

Uncomfortable.

Unsettling.

New.

You turned away too quickly for him to analyze it.

“Anyway,” you said briskly, “you’ve got the rest of the day to settle in. I’ll be back at sunset to give you your orientation.”

“I do not require an orienta—”

“Yes you do!” you called from halfway down the walkway already. “Because if I leave you alone, you’ll either brood yourself into a coma or drown someone.”

Hattori took off from your shoulder and landed back on Lucci’s.

You waved at the bird instead of him.

“See you later, traitor!”

Hattori chirped.

You didn’t even glance back at Lucci.

He watched you walk away, disappearing down the palm-lined road as the sun painted you in soft gold.

And for the first time since arriving on this cursed island…

Rob Lucci had no idea what to do.

He spent the afternoon in a bad mood.

He wandered the bungalow. He inspected the deck. He glared at the hammock. He stood at the water’s edge and scowled at the fish.

Hattori, meanwhile, took a long nap on his pillow.

Hours passed.

He changed into lighter clothes only when heat threatened to kill him—black trousers and a loose linen shirt the resort provided. He felt strange in them. Exposed. Less armored.

He hated it.

But he hated sweating more.

When the sky began to shift to burnt orange, he heard footsteps approaching along the wooden walkway.

Not loud.

Not rushed.

Just… confident.

Lucci’s pulse spiked.

He didn’t like that.

You appeared at the doorway, exactly as promised.

Hands in your pockets. Breeze tugging at your shirt. Sunset reflecting in your eyes like molten amber.

You gave Hattori a wave.

Then you looked at Lucci.

“Ready for your orientation?” you asked.

“No,” he said.

“Too bad.”

You turned.

And Lucci followed.

Sunset painted everything gold.

The two of you walked along the water’s edge, waves brushing the shore with rhythmic calm. Locals lit lanterns as you passed—soft, floating lights that grew brighter as evening settled over the island.

Lucci hated how beautiful it was.

He hated that you seemed to fit into it so effortlessly.

“You look less murderous in those clothes,” you said conversationally.

“I was overheating,” he muttered.

“Still. Improvement.”

He shot you a look, but you didn’t even pretend to be intimidated.

You pointed toward the town.

“Over there is the main square. We hold festivals every other night.”

“I will not attend.”

“Yes you will.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

He inhaled sharply. “You are remarkably stubborn.”

“Compliment accepted.”

They passed a small fruit stand. The woman behind it grinned brightly.

“Mayor’s girl!” she called. “Who's the tall dark cloud with you?”

You waved at her, utterly unbothered.

“Temporary assignment!”

“Hmm!” the woman hummed, eyes twinkling. “He your boyfriend?”

Lucci choked.

You didn’t miss a beat.

“No! He’s my responsibility, not my problem.”

“Ah,” she nodded. “Good luck then.”

Lucci stared.

You kept walking.

“You let civilians speak like that?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s disrespectful.”

“It’s honest.”

Lucci paused.

You stopped when you realized he wasn’t beside you.

“…What?” you asked.

He studied you—not your posture, not your potential threat level, not your tells.

You.

The way your smile wasn’t forced.

The way you didn’t posture or adapt or calculate.

The way you simply existed, unarmored, as if the world had never given you reason to fear it.

He didn’t understand it.

And he didn’t like not understanding.

“You don’t think before you speak,” he said.

“Of course I do,” you replied. “I just don’t censor things that don’t need censoring.”

“You speak freely.”

“Yes.”

“Even to me.”

“Especially to you.”

His brow furrowed.

“Why?”

You smirked.

“Because everyone else is too scared to.”

He stared.

There it was again—

That subtle jab at his status, his reputation, his existence.

But this time, there was no malice in it.

Just truth.

You stepped closer.

Not enough to touch him.

But enough to make him acutely aware of the space between you.

“Someone should tell you when you’re being ridiculous,” you said softly. “It might as well be me.”

The ocean roared softly behind you. The lanterns flickered. Hattori chirped on Lucci’s shoulder.

And something in Lucci’s chest—that carefully guarded void—shifted.

Uncomfortable.

Hot.

New.

You took a step back before he could analyze it.

“Come on,” you said lightly. “I still need to show you the cliffs and the lagoon.”

“I do not require a full—”

“Yes you do.”

He exhaled sharply, tension pulling at his shoulders.

“You are infuriating.”

You smiled over your shoulder as you walked away.

“And yet you’re still following me.”

Lucci froze.

You didn’t turn around.

Hattori chirped as if to say she has a point.

Lucci gritted his teeth.

And followed.

By the time you finished the orientation, night had settled fully.

Stars glittered above the water. Torches lined the path back to his bungalow. The two of you stood at the end of the walkway, ocean breeze carrying the scent of citrus and salt.

“This is where I leave you,” you said. “For tonight.”

Lucci nodded.

You looked at him—really looked.

And for the first time all day, your expression softened.

“Tomorrow,” you said quietly, “we try actual relaxation. Not glaring at fish or intimidating beach chairs.”

“I do not—”

“Yes, you do glare at fish,” you said with certainty. “Locals told me.”

Lucci inhaled slowly through his nose.

“You monitor me.”

“Of course,” you said. “You’re dangerous.”

“You are not afraid.”

“Not of you.”

His breath hitched.

He didn’t show it.

You smiled—small, real, almost gentle.

“Goodnight, Lucci.”

You turned and walked away, lantern light casting long shadows behind you.

Hattori fluttered down from his shoulder to the porch railing, watching you disappear into the darkness.

Lucci stood alone on the deck, listening to the ocean.

Trying to understand why his pulse felt… uneven.

Why your voice lingered in the air.

Why your presence had unsettled him more than any battlefield.

He failed to find an answer.

But he did know one thing:

He had severely underestimated this island.

And you.

Especially you.

Because Rob Lucci—weapon of the World Government, assassin without equal, storm wrapped in human skin—

had just met someone who could make him lose his cool with a single sentence.

And tomorrow?