#op reader insert

You proceeded to have the best sleep of your life that very night. And for once, you slept in, waking a whole hour past your usual work start time to the warmth of a calm Saturday morning. You rolled over in bed, reaching for your phone to check your notifications like the phone addict you are. 

And among the usual pop-ups about the latest news, the day's weather, and some miscellaneous social media items, your heart stopped at the text you received an hour ago. 

“I instructed the delivery person to leave it at your door,” were the only words the message from “Doc Trafalgar NBUMC” said. 

You immediately shot up in bed, throwing your blankets off you. The residual fatigue from sleep hit you as you did, causing you to take a moment to shake off your sleepiness before bolting out of the bedroom. Because what the fuck did Law send to your place?

You threw open your front door, blinking a few times as you found a plastic bag on your doorstep. You glanced around outside before snatching the handles and bringing the package inside. 

The packaging wasn’t exactly discreet. You dumped the contents of the bag onto your kitchen counter, and two small boxes tumbled out. Law had sent a morning-after pill and a vaginal boric acid suppository, respectively. 

You immediately whipped out your phone.

“Stalking me now?” You typed furiously before placing your phone on the counter. You planted your hands on the cold surface, reading the boxes in front of you. 

If you gave Law one thing, it was that he didn’t cheap out on you. This can send you name-brand, physician-approved, and certified products. It had to have cost him a pretty penny. You reluctantly tore through the tape seal on the morning after pill.

God, he sent you a morning-after pill. 

Trafalgar Law sent you a morning-after pill. 

As if the soreness between your legs wasn’t enough to remind you what you did. 

Law’s response came swiftly. It lit up your screen, and you jumped for it faster than you were willing to acknowledge.

“Just being responsible,” it wrote plainly. You rolled your eyes, making a face at the screen.

“Seems a little late for that,” you fired back, placing your phone back down, but face-up and on this time. You popped the pill out of the bundle of packaging, throwing everything else in the trash, before you prepared a glass of water. But Law didn’t write back even after you took the pill. You messaged again, “What’s the other one?”

“Vaginal suppository,” Law answered quickly, as if that was helpful in the slightest. That’s what it said on the box. “For your pH. Probably want to insert at night.” 

You frowned because, for whatever reason, you really didn’t want Trafalgar Law talking about your pH. Call yourself crazy for such a thing…

You didn’t respond, and instead went about your Saturday. 

***

The weekend came and went as it usually did for better or for worse. On the one hand, you got better sleep than you had been getting. On the other hand, your brunch date with Sanji went on just about as well as you expected. 

He had met you at your place, pulling up in a pristine, yellow sports car. He sported a basic, but clearly expensive, collared shirt and designer sunglasses, and you had an excuse for that light, flowy outfit in your closet that had been sitting collecting dust for the better part of two years. The food was good, but the conversation around it was a lot more dull. 

At the very least, Sanji appeared to have had a great time, not noticing how your responses came a beat too late. Or rather, if he noticed, he didn’t seem to mind. 

You, meanwhile, continued to shift in your seat, still fighting that dull ache that Law had lovingly left behind Friday night. The very memory of it seemed like a dream, like it hadn’t been real. Because by all means, the fact that you’d let Trafalgar Law of all people fuck you on your desk at work, of all places, continued to register in your mind as insane. 

Well, it was. And you were equal parts anticipating and avoiding the workday on Monday because of it. Knowing Law, it was likely that nothing would change. But at the same time, you weren’t sure you could display the same nonchalant attitude about things. How were you supposed to look at him the same way ever again? And worse, Law wasn’t the type to brag about a conquest, was he?

The two of you had been rivals ever since he started months ago, and you weren’t sure if you could put it past him to not take pleasure in finally coming out on top. He had the potential to say all sorts of things about the mouthy technician from imaging who finally submitted that attitude to the new, young doctor. And you supposed you would only be able to put your quiet worries to rest once you got a feel for things on Monday. 

With any luck, Law would be as cold as usual, and things would eventually settle back into the way they were. 

When you first walked into the building on Monday morning, you noted first that Law was not loitering outside of imaging. You took a breath in, deciding that it was a good thing, before tapping into your office. 

The automatic lights illuminated the room in a familiar clinical glow. Everything was exactly how you’d left it on Friday night. Your chair was somewhere across the room. The little trinkets and items that you kept on your desk were in a different spot than they had been after Law had scooped them up off the floor. The pens in your stationery cup were pointing in all sorts of directions, with some of them right-side up and others upside down. 

And knowing the office as well as you did, you only saw evidence that something messy had occurred. You placed your things down and clocked in before donning gloves and arming yourself with sanitizing wipes. 

You and Law cleaned up a fair bit before you left the building in tense silence, but the very memory and the heart-racing shame of it had you scrubbing the surface of your desk twice over. 

You caught your reflection in the dark monitor just as your clock-in screen timed out. 

What could have possibly possessed you to do that? 

You pursed your lips, moving elsewhere in the office to begin your day. 

***

At the very least, the schedule was back to normal. Nami was back in at the Kokoyashi office, so Law wasted no time in monopolizing your time again. You began your morning in the cath lab as if nothing in the world had changed since last week. 

Law’s team hustled to get things prepared. You took your place at your monitor as usual, and when Law entered the room, he took up even more space than he typically did. 

He was a magnet, always existing in your peripheral vision, his very presence bidding you to look his way. You kept him there in the corner of your eye, trying to avoid his gaze as you forced your hands to be steady. 

It was the first time you’d seen him since last week, and no matter how hard you tried to go about things as usual, the weight of what you’d done together brought the room to a sobering gravity. You felt like you could hear everything, the bustle of papers, footsteps on tile. You could feel the way your gloves coated your hands, and the warmth of our own breath through your mask. 

You could still feel his breath, too, from when he had whispered in your ear. The electricity where his fingers dug into your hips continued to spark every time you heard his voice. And most abhorrently, you could still feel the way he dripped out of you that night. 

And now, the space between you was charged with a secret. You stood side by side, going through the motions of taking care of the patient under you. Law was a doctor you worked with, and now, things weren’t the same. 

Law was different too, though not in a way that could be quite put into words. His scrutinizing gaze didn’t feel as heavy as it sleeted over you. He wasn’t softer—not him—nor any less icy than usual, but the cold that always surrounded him, like a snow globe, now felt less like a barrier. Somehow, you belonged inside it. 

You forced professionalism, keeping your words curt and ignoring the way his hand nearly brushed against yours or that the shoulder of his scrubs grazed your elbow. He was too close. Far enough away for deniability, but too near to be unnoticeable. 

You stood at your monitor, and Law worked right beside you. Shoulder to shoulder, attention wrapped up in your respective tasks. 

That’s when you knew that things would never return to the way they’d been. You’d been toeing a line ever since you met, and on Friday, you finally crossed it. You weren’t colleagues anymore. You weren’t work enemies. 

You didn’t know what you were.

And when the case wrapped, you lingered at your monitor a bit longer than necessary. The rest of the team was already beginning to trickle out of the room, talking about miscellaneous things and patting themselves on the back for a block well done. 

But you stayed glued to your console, having felt a pair of eyes on you since the procedure started. The hum of the machinery around you had faded into little more than white noise. 

Law’s presence already filled up a room as it was. His dark glare could freeze over any atmosphere, but now, he made the air between you feel as thick as jelly. 

The door clicked shut. 

You waited. 

“You haven’t so much as looked at me all morning,” he remarked, his voice steady and calm. Law stood near the counter on the opposite side of the room.

“I’ve been busy,” you retorted, clicking through a few things on the monitor. You were double-checking things that didn’t need to be rechecked and scribing notes that didn’t need to be written. 

He leaned the back of his hip against the counter. 

“Busy,” he repeated, the slightest amused twinge forming at the corners of his lips. He let out a light chuckle to himself, crossing his arms over his chest as he glanced somewhere random in the room. “You’ve been busy…” he mused. 

“Do you think this is funny?” You snapped toward him, realizing too late that you’d been trapped. 

Because the moment you locked eyes with him, your breath hitched. Those damn golden eyes of his had pinned you down, piercing you right through the heart. A sudden pang reverberated in your chest as you found yourself stunned under his even gaze. 

“Do you regret it?” he asked, his tone too even. 

How could he be so calm about this? How could he just say things so bluntly after everything that happened?

The sheer need to avoid the question overwhelmed your frozen state. You tore your eyes away like you’d been shocked out of a trance. 

Your stomach twisted. 

This was so sick. You disliked Trafalgar Law just as much as every other entitled, arrogant doctor here. He was cocky, demanding, and thought he was god just as much as you’d expect from a newbie doctor. But you hadn’t been able to forget the memory of his skin on yours and the way his mouth tasted. 

“I hate to break it to you,” he said, that tiny little smile still on his lips. He looked at you like you were a frog ready for dissection. “But no answer is an answer.” 

“You’re an ass,” you spat.

“I think my original assessment was spot on,” Law mused, seeming to ignore you. “I think you crave being handled because it’s someone else taking responsibility and pressure out of your hands. And you know that I can handle you both mentally and physically.” His smirk only seemed to widen at the theory before he returned his gaze to you. “That’s why you’re so worked up over this.” 

“I can’t even look at you,” you muttered, wrapping up your busywork to turn to leave. 

Law stepped off from the counter, stepping toward the center of the room. He didn’t approach you or chase after you, staring in your direction instead.

“You don’t have to look at me,” he called from behind you, his voice just a tad louder than his normal speaking level. You made your second fatal mistake as you stopped, turning with a huff to glance back at him. Law appeared as self-assured as ever, hands shoved in his pockets as he regarded you casually. “Because thing is, I told you you didn’t have to—and yet, here you are, still looking.”

You turned on your heel, swiftly exiting the lab. 

***

Unfortunately, now that you were back to your regularly scheduled programming, your day consisted heavily of Law’s patients. It was like a factory. Patients came and went from the rooms. You held your probe all the same. Gel, scan, adjust, rinse, repeat. You’d done this process a thousand times, your muscle memory carrying you through the day as you manage the patient flow. 

If one thing returned to normal, it was Law standing behind you. He’d abandoned his station near the door, choosing to return to hovering over your shoulder. You couldn’t say which you disliked more: Law breathing down your neck or Law posted up menacingly by the door. 

Although Law continued to make no commentary on your work, something you also weren’t sure you preferred over the ladder. Because at least before, your banter had filled the thick silence between you.

“The septal view is fine,” you retorted without a prompt. Your eyes were glued to your monitor. You could see it, those little fringe details you knew Law would be picky about, and you weren’t going to let him call it first. 

Law paused for a moment.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” he said.

“Good,” you spat back, continuing your scan.

The patient, Mr. Rayleigh, chuckled faintly at the exchange. You stopped your scan at the first sign of movement artifact and then resumed it after the motion. 

“It’s fine,” you muttered. 

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Law repeated. 

“So,” Rayleigh entered the conversation swiftly, not wasting a second. And perhaps both you and Law made the fatal mistake of tuning out a patient about to engage in small talk. “How long have you two been married?”

The question nearly made you fumble your probe. 

“We are not married,” your response came quickly, accompanied by a shaken, disbelieving laugh. You couldn’t see Law’s face from where he stood behind you. “If I were married to him, I’d ask for a divorce.” 

Law scoffed behind you. 

“As long as I get custody of the lab in the separation,” he gruffed. 

And you timed things perfectly, ending your scan just the second before Rayleigh laughed again. It hadn’t even been a conscious thought—just instinct.

“Sure coulda fooled me,” Rayleigh hummed. “You must work together a lot then.”

The very observation made your chest tighten, as if you were under the scrutiny of a magnifying glass. You forced a polite smile, trying to ignore the way your heart squeezed in your chest. 

“Every day,” you sighed a little too quickly with just a little too much bite to pass off as a light-hearted joke. 

“She knows how I want it done,” Law replied, his voice clipped and curt. 

You glanced at him over your shoulder. He was already staring. Your gazes lingered on each other’s for a moment before you tore your attention back to the monitor. 

***

When you exited, Chopper was passing by. He perked up, his laptop in the crook of his arm. After taking a few days of imaging patients, Chopper had more questions than ever. And on any other day, you’d be more than enthused about answering them. 

“Oh wow!” he chirped with a sweet smile, “You guys are on a roll today!”

Law ignored him, rounding the corner out of the exam room and down the hall. You offered Chopper a polite smile.

“Gotta get through Monday somehow,” you breathed, ever used to substituting a cliche into a workplace conversation when you weren’t in the mood to talk. People ate it up every time.

“You’re tellin’ me!” he laughed, following you as you walked toward the pod. You had another patient coming in at any moment. It wasn’t worth trekking all the way back to imaging. “I hope I can be as good as you one day.”

He was such an angel.

Your smile turned genuine as you glanced his way.

“You know, when you’re running your own clinic, you won’t have to do the images,” you said, “You’ll probably have an echo tech of your own.” 

Chopper turned to you, stopping just outside the pod. He had little dimples that creased his cheeks. Poor baby-faced thing, he was going to look young forever. 

“Well, I hope I have a tech who works as well with me as you do with Dr. T!” he beamed. “You’re so in sync it’s kinda unbelievable.” 

Law was sitting just inside the pod to Chopper’s left, facing away from you toward a computer. You noticed as the clicking of his mouse stilled for just a few seconds. You were sure no one else would have noticed, but you did. 

And you wondered how people could see something between the two of you. The very thought made your skin crawl. Because they didn’t know, they couldn’t. There was no way anyone knew about what had happened in that exam room after the last scheduled patient on that day. No one could’ve possibly known about what happened after everyone had gone home just a few days ago.

And yet, every compliment toward you and Law felt like a direct jab. Like an accusation levied against her as to why you worked so well together. Before, it was a simple answer. You were the best. But now, things were blurred because it was precisely like Law said. 

You handed control over. 

And he took it.

And somehow, it felt as though he’d left a mark on you. 

***

And Law didn’t appear to be bothered in the slightest. 

If anything, he appeared to be the slightest bit energized… although it was apparent that this wasn’t because of you. No, you knew that much when you had rounded a corner and heard a laugh you didn’t recognize. You hadn’t thought much of it at first. It was a patient, you assumed, until you had glanced up. You did a double-take when you saw Law on the phone. 

He was leaning up against the wall, laptop folded under his arm. His chin was slightly downturned as he smiled— like actually smiled, and not his usual grin that looked like he was about to rearrange your organs and not in a fun way. And when he laughed again, it wasn’t a cocky chortle or an arrogant hum. It was a real laugh. 

Law sounded like a real man… who laughed and smiled normally at things. And it all made you wonder just who the hell was on the other side of that phone. 

Law noticed you, his eyes drifting over, then away, before darting back in recognition.

“Hey, I’ve gotta go. But I’ll see you Wednesday,” he said, only pausing to listen for a beat before saying goodbye again and hanging up. He turned to you, the afterglow of the conversation causing the ghost of a smile to grace his lips. “Got something for me?” he asked with a certain nonchalant tone you weren’t used to from him. 

You couldn’t help but freeze, glancing him up and down as your lips parted.

“Who was that?” you questioned, the words coming out as more of an accusation than you intended. 

Law’s face didn’t fall, but it turned back to his neutral expression. 

“Not something you need to be concerned about,” he said. “Did you need to talk about something?” he repeated, glancing from you to your equipment cart. 

That was quite the loaded question. 

You heaved a heavy breath. 

“No, I don’t,” you gritted, before moving to your next patient. 

***

Marco wasn’t someone you worked with often. He had been assigned to Hogback, who mainly worked out of Water 7 as his preferred location. He was there a few days a week, and Franky had been gracious enough to staff that location after Hogback had a few instances of inappropriate conduct with female staff members. Nothing ever came of the investigations, but it didn’t take a genius or a detective to clock Hogback as a creep immediately. 

Just like how Hancock preferred a primarily female staff, Hogback usually ended up with a predominantly male staff. But ever since there had been a shift in fellow assignments, Marco had been surprisingly well accepted into Hancock’s fold while Niji and Yonji had been allocated to Hogback. You had wondered what the change was about, but after working with Marco yourself, you understood.

Marco was far more interested and dedicated to cardiology than Niji and Yonji appeared to be. The Vinsmoke brothers were only doing an extended rotation through cardiology while their interests lay somewhere else entirely. Marco, on the other hand, proved himself to be a rather respectful and dedicated student. 

He wasn’t your average fellow. While he had his fair share of basic questions and needed guidance, as to be expected for his education level, he held himself similarly to a doctor with experience under his belt. 

“You have that ‘I’ve done this a hundred times’ vibe,” you commended as you were coming out of an exam room together. “Should I trust it?” you joked, flashing him a playful look. 

Marco laughed with a sheepish shrug. 

“Let’s call it confidence by association,” he said with a dip of his lip. “I’m figuring it out as I go.”

“Hey, I hate to say it, but faking it until you make it goes a long way around here,” you offered, stopping at the pod. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing great. You’re putting in the work, and it really shows. I know it can be a lot.”

Marco dipped his head, a slight smile on his lips. He didn’t seem to be the type to know how to take a compliment. 

“Tell me about it,” he breathed. “I think we all could take a load off.” 

“You got that right,” you laughed, starting to trot off to your next stop. 

Marco shifted awkwardly behind you. 

“Hey, um,” he started, calling after you. You turned, brows slightly raised in attention. Marco stood a short way away, shifting as he tried to find words. “If you ever wanted to take a load off, some of the other fellows started these gatherings on the weekends. Someone’s got this cool rooftop spot and everyone on staff is usually invited,” he offered. 

You flashed a polite smile.

“I’m not usually one for after-work things,” you admitted.

Marco didn’t seem to take it any sort of way, shrugging as his lip dipped. 

“I thought I’d offer. Pretty sure they do it every weekend. So if you ever change your mind, I’m happy to give you the info.” 

You continued your way down the hall, flashing him another polite nod. 

“Will do! Thank you, Marco!” You waved before disappearing around the corner. 

***

You weren’t awfully surprised when the day went as quickly as it did. You had forced yourself into the zone. With all the pent-up energy you had swirling inside you, you needed to feel productive in one way or another.

You ended your day with some outpatient cases. You got to stick to your own wing, utilizing your familiar workrooms and taking easy case after case until the day ended. 

You lingered in your last room, leaning against the echo table. Everything had been sanitized and just about wrapped up, but you were putting off sending all the images through as you looked at your phone. 

Sanji had texted you earlier in the morning, thanking you for the weekend. You hadn’t wanted to respond, but after all your thinking, you decided to challenge yourself. You looked at the phone screen like it was a clinical task, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. 

Sanji was sweet and normal. You were going to like him. Because Sanji was uncomplicated, he pulled your chair out for you. He actually smiled when he saw you, and when it came to communicating his interest, there was no question. 

And a reply to, “I had a great time yesterday :)” should have been absent-minded. 

“Me too!” you typed and deleted. 

“Yeah! Those waffles were no joke! Let’s go back—” you deleted before you even finished.

“I had such a great time. Free Saturday?” Deleted. 

You covered your pursed lips with your hand, staring down at the conversation chain. 

A knock came from the open doorway. You nearly jumped at the sound, shoving your phone in your pocket as if you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t have. Law leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed as if he’d been watching you for a minute now. 

“Thinking about texting him?” Law motioning his head in the general direction of your phone. 

You fiddled with the hem of your scrub top, glancing off to the side. 

“Thinking about it,” you admitted. 

“You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder all day, but here you are, frames still pulled up and thinking about texting Vinsmoke back,” Law mused, the sharp edge of judgement in his voice deneniable, yet cool. 

“Why? Are you jealous?” You didn’t look up, fishing your phone back out of your pocket. You glanced back at Sanji’s message. “Bored of taking your secret phone calls during clinic?”

Law shrugged, ignoring your last jab. 

“Jealous? No,” Law answered boredly. “Just had a feeling it wouldn’t last long.”

You frowned.

“What? You don’t think the last name Vinsmoke would suit me?” you jabbed. You didn’t like it when he was right. You hated it. His entire profession revolved around him being God’s gift to cardiology—he didn’t need to clock your relationship with Sanji. And you desperately wanted to prove him wrong. 

Law rolled his head back for it to rest against the doorframe. His brows bobbed. 

“I’m just saying I wouldn’t get too hung up on texting back. I’m sure he’s used to it,” Law said. He might as well have yawned. “Vinsmoke casts a big net.” Law busied himself picking a piece of fuzz off his coat. 

“What are you talking about?” Your mouth ran dry. 

Law glanced up at you with barely feigned mock surprise. 

“Oh, you didn’t know?” he hummed, piercing your gaze with his, “Vinsmoke is a notorious flirt. He’ll chase anything with a skirt and a badge… or without a skirt and a badge.” Law picked at something on his cuticle. “Everyone knows that.” 

“Heh, just like how everyone apparently knows that the fellows throw a rager every weekend on some rooftop,” you scoffed, despite your fingers freezing over the keyboard. You slowly turned the screen off, slipping your phone back into your pocket for the second time. “I don’t mind an outgoing guy. Beats an office hermit with no social skills.”

“He didn’t tell you about the date he went on with Charlotte Pudding this past Saturday?” Law scrutinized, still feigning indifference. “That wasn’t a conversation topic over your brunch?”

You rolled your eyes. 

“I’m dating a fisherman. So what?” you retorted with narrowed eyes. “It’s not like we’re exclusive. I fucked you, didn’t I?”

You hadn’t intended for it to come out as poisonous as it did like a volley of sharp icicles, sharp, dangerous, cold. You continued to stare him down, waiting for a reaction. 

But Law didn’t flinch once. He stood, leaned against the doorframe, arms still folded. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. Law just held your gaze as you detected the faintest tightening of his jaw. 

“Yeah… You fucked me…” Law said, and when he spoke, his voice was a low, slow whisper. “You think I care if you spread your legs for Vinsmoke?” Law glanced you over, dragging his eyes over you, his nose crinkling the slightest bit in disgust. “Go ahead. See how far he gets before you get bored.”

“Maybe I want a gentleman, not some heartless experiment in what happens when nobody raises you right,” you snapped, and the moment the words left your mouth, you knew they were the wrong ones. 𓊹𓊹𓊹

Law’s face didn’t change much, but the temperature in the room plummeted. Your words hung in the air with more weight than you intended. The silence was sharp. 

And then, he laughed. The single noise drove a lethal warning through your chest. You instinctively stepped back, feeling the echo table preventing you from moving farther. 

Law stepped inside the room, closing the door after him. His eyes were amused, his lips forming the ghost of an entertained smile. He didn’t appear angry, but his attention was razor-focused on you. 

“Say that again,” he goaded. A sharp glint cut through his stare.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing into a panic as you watched Law reach for the nitrile gloves. He plucked a pair of large ones from the top box, slipping them unceremoniously over his hands like he was preparing for a procedure. He let them snap against his wrists. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,” you sputtered. 

Law was on you in an instant, crossing the exam room in just two wide strides as you fell back onto the exam table. He didn’t say a thing, stepping on the control pedal on the floor to raise the table and plucking your transducer from the holder on your equipment cart. 

“You didn’t mean it,” he mused. Your pulse skipped as he took the probe’s cord in his hands, wrapping it around his fist like a whip. Your eyes widened, darting from the wire to Law’s face. 

“Law… We can’t just—” 

You tried jumping down from the table, but Law was too quick. He stepped in front of you before you even made it off, lodging his thigh between your legs. The head of your probe tilted your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his. 

“You wanted a gentleman,” he muttered, tilting his head slightly to the side. He dragged the head of the probe up, bringing your chin to an awkward angle. “What you’re getting is me.”

Law pinned you with that same amused look in his eyes, the slightest smirk on his lips as he turned his attention to the instrument in his hands. 

Sterile. Familiar. Precious. Yours. 

“Funny,” Law mused, almost talking to himself as he turned it over in his palm. He pulled back just slightly, still trapping you on the exam table as he inspected the label on the probe. “You told me you’ve been using this for years… Your years of experience, you said. You’ve probably used this on hundreds of patients at least. Taught those fellows with it—”

“You’re not going to—”

“Oh, you think this is negotiable?” Law pinched the probe where the end met the cord, letting it fall forward between your collarbones. He dragged the head down between your breasts, his eyes dipping as it went. “I let you mouth off and yell at me and get away with being impossible in my clinic. And then you fucked me and walked off like nothing happened, apparently.” 

You tried to close your thighs, scooting back on the table to escape him, but Law gripped your knee and shoved your legs back apart. 

“So let’s make it nothing,” he hissed, forcing the head of the probe up against your clit through your scrub pants. “You wanted to provoke me? You wanted to test me and see what I’d do? Congratulations. You succeeded.” 

An unmistakable damp spot had already formed at the crotch of your pants. Law turned the probe in his hands, driving the head to your most sensitive spot. 

“I had a little theory that arguing actually got you off,” he chuckled to himself, his eyes glued to the probe and the growing wetness evident on the fabric below. “You’re ruining your scrubs for me, and I’ve barely even touched you.” Law drove the probe just right, watching you cringe as you bit your lip. “I should stop now and make you walk around like this. But we both know you don’t want me to stop.”

You turned your head away.

This was sick. So sick. Being in an exam room like this. Using the equipment. You hated how it made your heart flutter. 

Law gripped your cheeks in one hand, scrunching your face in his firm grip as he forced you to meet his gaze.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart. You’re the one who wanted attention so bad.” 

Law allocated the probe to one hand, looping his thumbs in the waistband of your pants. He pulled your pants and ruined panties out from under you like a cloth from a table, letting the inside-out ensemble hang from your one ankle.

The probe head immediately went back to your clit. Your skin was already burning like you were an ant under a microscope. And slowly, Law lowered the probe head until it poked at your drenched entrance. 

Fuck, you were soaked. You were more wet than you cared to admit. Law had you in one of your exam rooms, about to fuck you with your own equipment, and you were dribbling onto the table. 

“No… You wouldn’t—” you whimpered. You could feel how wide your own eyes were. You stabilized yourself by gripping Law’s arm, your legs still spread. It wasn’t him you were mortified with. It was the situation that you found yourself in yet again, and more specifically, how much you liked it. “You’re crazy. You’re fucking insane,” you rambled, not even sure if you were talking to him at that point.  

Law bullied the head of the probe into you, the pathetic whine he drew out of you, betraying your resolve. The tip of the probe wasn’t thin. It had a head that was swiftly swallowed by your heat.

“Maybe it would be,” Law muttered, his eyes locked onto where the rest of the probe poked out from you. He held onto the bottom of it, not moving in or out. He looked up to meet your mortified expression, the corner of his lips hooking upward as he leaned to speak directly into your ear. “If you weren’t grinding on it like a filthy fucking slut.”

He pressed it deeper, savoring the moan that tore out of your throat. You leaned your head against his, already beginning to grow delirious from the intense pressure between your thighs. Your cheek brushed up against Law’s, your temples touching as you were forced to lean back on your palms. 

He smothered you with cold heat, overwhelming your senses with an intensity you weren’t sure you could handle. The probe barreled in and out of you, a hard plastic rubbing against every inch of your soft walls. You could feel the familiar shape of it inside you. The cord smacked against the side of the table and whipped around your ankle. And the pure, filthy reality of what was happening made you clench. Law let out a breathy laugh into your ear. 

“You’re not denying it. You’re not telling me to stop. No, you’re not a tech anymore. You’re not even a colleague or a person, are you? You’re just a filthy, dripping cunt getting off on hospital equipment.” 

You could feel his smirk against your face, but a blissful numbness was beginning to overtake your skin. Law hooked his arm under one of your knees, tilting your body to expose you more to his brutal onslaught against your sore pussy. You trembled, trying to shift your hips to keep the unceasing momentum off your most sensitive spot. 

“Please— Law, sir— Please— I can’t—” 

“No, no, no… You don’t get to run from it.” Law grabbed you by the hip, pinning you open as he fucked the probe in and out of you furiously. It made an obscene wet noise as it did, only overshadowed by your shaky gasps. You didn’t want to moan. You didn’t want to give in and reveal how fucking close you were. Law growled in your ear, “You’re gonna cum for me just like this. Humiliated. Exposed. Owned. I want you dripping down the cord of your own fucking equipment while you thank me for ruining you.”

He pulled away from you to watch your face. Law looked like he was on the knife’s edge of restraint, his expression calm and his posture calculated. But his goddamn eyes. You watched as his pupils dilated, growing slightly larger and smaller as he observed the desperation on your face draw tension around your cheeks. 

“What do you think everyone would think, huh?” Law drove the probe in deeper, finally drawing a sharp cry from your lips. Your legs shook hard. “If they saw the North’s perfect little know-it-all fucked open on her own probe? Do you even hear how wet you are? And over the filthiest fucking thing I could do to you? God, you’re such a good little whore.” 

“Please—” you whimpered. 

Law continued to drag the probe over your sensitive areas. He wasn’t holding back. He wasn’t trying to be gentle in the slightest. He kept a punishing pace as pressure began to build up in your stomach. 

“Please what?” he spat, narrowing his eyes at you.

You turned away, closing your eyes. 

“Please let me cum…” You whined, your voice barely above a whisper. 

And then the pace of the probe slowed. It dragged, keeping just enough pressure to keep you on the edge of climax. You could feel how drenched you had made yourself by the feeling of the air alone. The undersides of your knees were clammy with sweat. You could feel your scrub top sticking to your skin. 

‘You’re going to have to do a lot better than that,” Law snarked. 

“Please, sir—! Please let me cum!” you sobbed, the plea coming from your throat with no further prompting. Law continued to smile his cruel smirk as you began to shatter against him. “I’m sorry, sir— I won’t text him! I won’t bring him up ever again! Please— I’ll be good!” 

Genuine tears were beginning to prickle in your eyes, not because you were in pain, but from the sheer humiliating and overwhelming input that overrode your nerves. 

“Oh, you’ll be good?” Law purred, “You’re done being a little brat? You’re gonna be a good little echo slut? A good little lab pet?” he cooed mockingly. 

“Please, please, please, please…” You whimpered under your breath, repeating the word like a prayer. Law was already staring at you when you looked up, like he hadn’t taken his eyes off you for a second. Not a hair was out of place on him. His coat was still as neat as ever. “I’ll be a good little echo slut, your lab pet— I swear, anything, please let me cum!”

He yanked your chin up, not letting you escape his scathing stare for a second. A dark storm whipped behind his eyes. 

“You won’t be able to ever hold this probe again without thinking about me and what I did to you here,” he chuckled darkly, never looking away, “This is my little gift to you, baby. You’ll never be able to look at another doctor, teach another resident, or scan another patient again without thinking of this. Cum. Be a good lab pet and cream all over your own probe.”

And you did. God, you did. 

You weren’t even thinking about anything anymore except for the heat between your legs. A broken scream spilled from your lips as you squeezed around the probe and jerked against Law’s firm grip. He pinned you, forcing you to ride it out against the cold, clinical tool. You gasped as the aftershocks made your sobs into ragged, gasping pleas. 

And when you were just fucked out enough, and just wrecked enough for Law’s liking, he pulled the probe out suddenly, tossing it aside onto a tray before he slid his gloves off like he’d just finished a routine procedure. He left you spread out on the table, chest heaving, legs hanging over the edge above the floor. Your scrub top stuck to your skin, and Law looked like nothing had happened. 

“Still breathing?” Law shrugged off his coat, hanging it on one of the hooks by the door. He had peeled his gloves off, disposing of them in the waste bin. His hand was on his belt. “Good. I’m not finished.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows. Your pulse still hadn’t come down. You were still so dazed. 

“What—?”

“I allowed you to cum. That doesn’t mean we’re stopping.” 

The clink of his belt filled the room with a sharp finality. His hands gripped your hips, bringing you back to the edge of the table. He flipped you around. You stood on your toes, bent over the table.

“Law— What if someone—?”

“You’re worried about whether someone sees? Hears?” You leaned forward, just barely able to stand due to the height of the table and how far Law had you bent over it. You let out a whimper as Law’s strong hands spread your ass, his hot tip pressing up against the folds of your cunt. Law let out another breathy laugh. “Then they’ll find you spread out like the newest equipment demo. What you should really be worried about is me.”

Law slid into you in an instant, bottoming out with a ferocity that drew a sharp gasp from your lips. 

“Ah—! Law— Fuck! Ah!” you cried, arching your back, clawing at the table to keep you grounded as he drilled into you. 

“Go ahead,” Law growled as he pounded into you. His fingers dug into your hips, angling you just the right way to bully into your drenched cunt. “Go ahead and act all high and mighty tomorrow. I dare you—brat off in my lab. Throw yourself at Vinsmoke for all I care. You’re mine. Dripping for me. Ruined by me.”

He rutted into you with a vengeance. You could barely hold yourself up. You could barely find your balance as each stroke of his thick cock left you delirious. He hit even deeper than he did at your desk, and with his hands keeping you in a vice grip, there was no escaping his relentless onslaught. 

You heard the clink of metal from somewhere next to you. You turned your head to see the probe in Law’s hands. You immediately tried to push off the table with your hands, but one press to the center of your back had you smacking back down to the table as Law continued to fuck into you. 

“Wait! What are you—?” 

“Shut up.” 

One hand gripped a clump of your hair as close to the roots as possible, forcing your head back as Law brought the ruined probe to your lips. It was still slick. Used. 

“Open your fucking mouth,” he commanded with a hiss. “I want you choking.” 

Law forced the probe over your tongue. The entire surface tasted of you, the bitter, musky flavor of your own cum filling your senses. Law shoved the probe to the back of your throat, leaving it there as his hand went back to your hip. His fingers still had a death grip on your hair as he forced you back onto his cock. 

“Keep it in your mouth,” he growled. Your body jerked, overstimulated and overwhelmed as you sobbed around the plastic. You collapsed on the table, your limbs like jelly as his length completely dominated every inch of you. “God, look at you. Gagging on a probe while I fuck you like the little fucktoy you are. You’ve got no attitude when you’ve got dick in you, now don’t you, sweetheart? Maybe I’ll jump straight to this the next time you want to mouth off.”

The walls of your cunt were twitching around him, squeezing as heat coiled up inside you again.

“Oh, you like that. You like when I talk to you like the echo slut you are.” His hand left your hair, focusing on angling your hips to hit that angle just right. And when he did, you screamed around the probe, clawing at the table under you as he drilled you over and over. He was so deep. “He’d never fuck you like this, and you know it. You don’t want a gentleman. You don’t want the door held open for you. You don’t even want to have sex. You want to be fucked and used until that pretty little head turns off.” 

“Law— Please, I’m yours!” you cried, voice muffled. You couldn’t think. You could barely get his name out. And then, a sob tore out from around the plastic, your hips jolting as you came harder than you’d ever had in your entire life. You were crying, gagging, shaking, clenching around his hot, thick length inside you. 

Law felt it— the way you squeezed around him, shook under him— and something in him snapped. He ripped the probe from your lips, drawing out for only a fraction of a second to flip you over. He held you up, eyes locked onto your puffy, fucked out, tear-stained face. His thrusts somehow roughened, becoming erratic as he held you close, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“Fuck— You are mine,” he groaned, “Say it— say it again— say you’re mine—” 

“I’m yours,” you whimpered, dazed. “I’m yours. I’m yours.”

He thrust in deep once, twice, then he buried himself at the hilt to grind up and spill into you. The sound that ripped from his throat was a half-snarl, half-moan as he closed his eyes, forehead still pressed up against yours. And he stayed there, still grinding against you the slightest bit as he rode out his high. His fingers were still pressed into your hips, his hands trembling from the sheer intensity of holding you down as he emptied himself inside you. 

You continued to shake as the silence went on. You tried to move, but Law held you in place. You panted, trying to catch your breath. 𓊹

“This was an accident,” you tried to excuse, shaking your head, “This was a mistake… We’re a mistake… Things just got out of hand.” Your words were halfhearted. You didn’t believe them, and you were sure that Law didn’t for a second. 

Law breathed out, pulling back just enough to meet your tired gaze. He was unshaken, as cool and steady as always. His voice was calm and terrifyingly confident. 

“Not a mistake,” he said, almost like a verdict. His golden eyes stared into yours. “An inevitability.” 

His words made your breath hitch. It felt solid, or at the very least, a confirmation that you weren’t the only one who was feeling this way. And when he helped you clean up in silence and told you, “We’ll talk about it,” you believed him. 

Mistakes. Mistakes. Inevitabilities. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Glossary for Nerds

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII

Tag List: @aveocadeo @augustanna @starzbrii @sporkslol @r3nstar @chillerkiller @weepingjudgediplomatbasketb-blog @notbleachtea @yunloyal @valval08 @qui-sap @vilemint @all-mights-wife @breakingthebank13

In the rhythm of the "wack" meme: No age in bio, no tag! Minor, no tag (MINORS DNI ANYWAY)! No series interaction, no tag!

The blond would give you an occasional smile, sometimes a wink, if he felt particularly in the mood that day. He’d sometimes give lectures wearing almost half-unbuttoned shirts, and you’d steal glimpses of his toned, tattooed chest, thinking of how your hands would feel wandering around his body. 

But what you didn’t know was that it was almost painful for him to resist you. You were just so sweet, and the way you’d instantly start fidgeting and look away whenever he’d tell you how great you were doing at his class or how you got the best grades out of everyone in your classroom tugged at his heartstrings. He wished he could get on his knees and spend the day worshiping you, telling you how beautiful you looked and how glad he was to have you as his student.

Except he couldn’t. 

And the man’s professional ethics were currently being put to test yet again as you sat by his side and he gave you another explanation of the current subject, your shoulders almost touching and the scent of your perfume reaching his nostrils. “I… I’m sorry, Marco. I just can’t seem to focus today.” You stare at the classroom’s closed door absentmindedly, listening to the occasional muffled noises of students passing by and talking. “It’s just… I’m kinda tired. I’m sorry I made you stay after class for this, I just needed to refresh my mind a little bit.”  Marco leans against his chair and frowns as you say this, putting one of his legs over the other and staring at you with furrowed eyebrows. “Is something going on? You seem very tired, yoi.” Although he was undeniably very attracted to you, he was also extremely concerned for your wellbeing, and regarding you, that would come before anything for him. You nod, leaning on the table and looking at him. “I just had a really intense week. I could use some rest and all.” He looks at you and hums, closing the textbook and giving it back to you. “You shouldn’t force yourself into studying and staying after class hours if you’re not well-rested, yoi. You should go home and rest.” He ponders for a few seconds as he puts away his things. “Do you want a ride, yoi? The subway gets really crowded at this hour.” 

You freeze as he says this, an embarrassed smile making its way into your features. “I… I could use a ride, yeah.” You start putting away your materials and stand up from the table, leaning against the wall near the door as you wait for him. “Come with me.” He mutters, before turning off the lights, closing the door to the classroom and grabbing his car keys. “Seriously, Reader. You can’t take care of others if you don’t take care of yourself. And as a doctor, you’ll need to keep that in mind, yoi.” You nod as you follow him to the parking lot and he opens the car’s passenger door for you. Damn, he’s a gentleman too. “Thanks.” He gets in the driver’s seat and hands you his phone with the Waze app opened so that you can put your address in it. “Tell this Uber driver where we’re headed, yoi.” You chuckle before typing it in and handing him back his phone. He checks it and gives you a smile. “That’s actually pretty close to where I live, yoi. Kinda surprises me that we never ran into each other while grocery shopping or something.” 

Your heart skips a beat as he says this, biting your lip as you notice maybe Marco is much more accessible to you than you thought he could ever be. “You’re right. Or maybe we just never thought we’d be that close to each other is all.” He gives a small smile at this before turning on the radio, the low music filling the small space of the car as you zone out staring through the window. You didn’t lie to him, you really could use some rest. But now that you got some alone time with him, the last thing you could think of was rest. “You okay there? You look like your mind is on another planet, yoi.” You smile softly at him and nod. “Yeah, professor. I’m just really tired because we had a lot of assignments to hand in this week. All I want to do is to go home and pet my cat.” The blond sends an amused glance your way as you mention your cat. “You have a cat? What’s it called, yoi?” Your heart flutters in your chest as you think of your cat. “His name’s Gnar. He’s a big, fat, stupid orange boy.” 

Marco barks out a laugh as he listens to your description of the poor animal. “Poor thing.” You grin as you look out the window, trying to ignore the fact that you’re just a few blocks away from your apartment complex and just enjoy this moment with him in silence.

The few following minutes you spend in silence are excruciating, feeling like an eternity but also passing much faster than you’d like them to. When you come back to planet Earth, you’re in front of your apartment complex and Marco has parked his car to drop you off, giving you a gentle smile. “Here you are, yoi. Now go and get some rest.” You look out the front window and start fidgeting with your fingers. “Thanks for the ride, professor.” You pause, trying to think of anything else to say. “Uh… do you want to come in and have some coffee? You’ll also have the chance of petting a fat and stupid orange boy.” 

Marco’s eyes widen slightly at your request and he feels his heart thump in his chest. You’re his student, damn it. If his superiors knew about this, he’ll be done for.

But it’s just this once, he tells himself. 

No one needs to know, he thinks, before smiling at you and nodding. “I’ll take you up on that offer, yoi. I could use coffee and some time with a fat cat.” Your heart skips a beat as he accepts your offer. Fuck, this is really happening. Your hot college professor is seriously going to your house over some coffee and your fat cat. You get out of the vehicle and Marco follows after you, pressing a button on a remote control to lock the car’s doors. As the two of you go into the building and then glance awkwardly at each other inside the elevator, you can feel your chest flutter and a familiar warmth finding its way between your legs. “I’m sorry if my apartment’s messy. I haven’t got any visits in… a while.”  He shakes his head, looking at you through half-lidded, tired eyes. “Don’t worry about it, yoi. I’ve been your age before.” 

You open the elevator’s door when you get to your floor and start fumbling with the keys to your apartment, and as soon as you take the keys out of your purse, you can hear loud meowing coming from inside your apartment and Marco’s giggling. “Someone sure does seem really happy to have you back home, yoi.” You snort and make a gesture for him to come in just before Gnar runs out the door and rubs himself against your legs. “Come on, fat boy. Let’s get inside, we’ve got a visitor.” 

Marco looks around your apartment. It’s small, but it feels homey. In your living room, there’s a couch, facing a small television perched upon a low table, a bookshelf filled with books of all sorts and a few fine art prints hanging on the walls. “It’s pretty, yoi. Matches your personality.” You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you hold Gnar on one arm and use your other arm to close the door. “Make yourself at home. I’ll go make us some coffee. Gnar, be nice to him.” You put the fat creature on the floor and go to the kitchen as it makes its way to Marco, who’s now sitting on the couch.  

You actually have to pause a minute to recover yourself as you get in the kitchen and grab two small ceramic coffee cups, setting them on the sink as you fumble with the coffee machine. 

Your professor is currently sitting on your couch, being smelled by your cat, as you make the two of you some coffee. And not just any professor, it’s your extremely hot professor that you’ve had a crush on for God knows how long. 

Damn it, Reader. You thirsty bitch. You know damn well you don’t want to treat this man to coffee.

Well, at least not just coffee.  

You keep thinking about how you’re actually a complete pervert as you put the two cups under the coffee machine and wait for it to come out, grabbing a jar of starch biscuits and taking it to the living room to place it on the table. When you get to the living room, however, you’re greeted by the sight of Gnar kneading on Marco’s lap, rubbing his cheeks against the red frame of his glasses. 

Oh my God.

Your professor is being kneaded on by your fat cat as if he were one of your long-term friends or something.

“I think your cat likes me, yoi.” Says Marco, clearly amused at the whole situation. You feel utterly mortified at what’s happening, but you figure you can’t really stop any of it. You muffle your laughter as you scurry back to the kitchen and bring Marco a cup of steaming hot coffee. “Thanks, yoi. Now I just have to figure out how to drink coffee with this sweet, big dude on my lap.” Take me on your lap instead, you think to yourself, looking at the man’s blue eyes. “Good luck.” You say as you lean against the couch, crossing your legs. The blond decides on letting Gnar stay on his lap, leaning against the couch and looking at you as he takes a sip of his coffee. “I really needed this, yoi. It’s not just you students who have a hard time at college, you know.” You nod and look at him with genuine interest. “Remember when some students got some corpse parts from the anatomy lab and took them home to study, yoi? Because I sure do.” You laugh loudly at the memory, leaning your head against the couch’s back and looking at Marco with adoration. 

He feels a pang on his chest as you look at him like that, leaning his head on the couch and looking at you as he sips on his coffee. Sure, he’s never had a particularly personal conversation with you, but he knew some of you. How much you loved cats, hated how dry your hands would become after wearing gloves for too long, how you liked wearing crocs around campus even when you weren’t going to the hospital just because they were extremely ugly. Mundane, impersonal things. 

But part of him always wished he knew more. 

And it seemed like that part of him was taking over as he started leaning his head towards yours, your foreheads slowly touching. He felt Gnar slide slowly down his lap before the cat decided to jump down and the blond managed to spare a quick glance before redirecting his attention to you. You could smell each other’s perfume and the scent of coffee on each other’s breath, and after what seemed like an eternity, your lips brushed lightly against each other. 

It was electric, in all senses of the word. 

You felt a pang inside your chest before pulling away. It felt like an electric shock and you jumped back, drinking another gulp of your coffee before putting the cup on the table as if trying to convince yourself that you weren’t dreaming. Meanwhile, Marco didn’t know what to do with himself, looking at you with wide eyes as he ran a hand through his blond locks. “Professor, I—“ 

“Don’t.” He says as he sets his cup on the table and pulls you in for what you’d call an actual kiss, licking your lower lip and putting one of his arms around your shoulder. “I’ve wanted this for so long, yoi—“ He pauses and lets out a groan as you bite his lower lip and tangle your hands on his hair. “Professor… I never… I never thought—'' He chuckles. “You’re so clueless, Reader. I’ve wanted this for so long, yoi. I just never thought we’d ever have an opportunity to-–” You cut off his words with a kiss while slowly climbing onto his lap, unbuttoning his shirt and running your hands up and down his chest, tattooed skin feeling satin smooth under your fingers along with thick blonde hair. Marco shivers under your touch, and you figure maybe it’s been a while since he’s done this. “Reader– oh–” You smirk as you fondle his nipples slowly but firmly, watching him throw his head back. “Are you sure, yoi? I’m your professor and I’m much older than you.” 

“I know,” you mutter, your lips gently.grazing his own. “And that’s why I want you, professor.” Marco groans at your words, rolling his hips to try and somehow stimulate himself, earning a moan from you. You take this as a chance to grind against the blond before standing up and looking down at him, and you can see the confusion in his gaze. “Why did you stop? Changed your mind, yoi?” Before you say anything, you drop to your knees and start unzipping his pants only to pull them down to his knees along with his underwear, and you salivate as his dick springs free. The length is average, but he’s thicker than any other of the guys you’ve been with. You wink at him before giving a slow lick from his balls all the way up to his blushed tip, looking him in the eyes. “Shit…” He puts his hand on the back of your head, encouraging you to keep going, and at this, you take as much of his length as you can, jaw aching slightly due to his girth. 

“Feels so good, Reader. You really are my best student, yoi.” You can feel your hole clench at his words as you keep on stimulating him with your mouth and tongue, giving his tip a few rough licks and occasionally pressing open-mouthed kisses to his length. His moans start to get more and more high-pitched as his sensibility heightens and he starts slowly thrusting into your mouth, gently enough not to make you gag, but roughly enough for your spit to drip down your chin. You feel him throb as he gives your mouth a few more thrusts before pulling out. However, before he can say anything, he comes, the thick, white liquid spraying over your face. You open your mouth as soon as you feel the first few spurts hit your face and smile as you see Marco’s eyes go wide, licking a bit of his release from your plump lips. “I’m sorry, I haven’t done this in… a while, yoi.” He looks extremely embarrassed, and you can’t blame him. You thought he would probably get more action than you believed he did, but maybe he didn’t have much time for it. 

“Can you take some more, professor?” Marco nods before letting out a sigh and leaning against the back of the sofa. “Just… give me a few minutes to recover, okay?” The man pets your hair as you lay your cheek against his thigh, smiling at him as if you were in a trance. You’ve thought of having him all to yourself many times, but you never thought it would actually happen, especially not right after finding out he lives so close to you. You stand up to sit on his lap, slowly rubbing your wetness against his length, only to feel it start to harden again as he lays his head back. “You’re a real menace, Reader. I would’ve never guessed my best student was also the best at such filthy things.” His hands slide down to your ass and knead on it slowly, then slide up to your love handles and lower belly. “God…” You feel the blond start grinding his dick against your drenched pussy, teasing your folds slowly with his tip, and let out a low groan. “Fuck, professor—“ At this, you feel one of his large hands sneak between your legs and circle your clit as he looks at you teasingly. “Professor, please, please, please—“ 

And then, he can’t hold back anymore. 

He pushes two thick fingers inside you and curls them towards himself, looking for your G-spot. “You’re so wet. Do you get this wet whenever you’re at my lectures too, you minx?” You nod, biting your lip and looking down at him through half-lidded eyes. Two of his fingers thrust against your G-spot slowly as his thumb gently circles your clit, earning sighs effortlessly. He massages your sensitive spot a while more before pulling his fingers out and groaning as he licks them clean. “You taste just as amazing as I thought you would, yoi–” He then pauses and his hand directs itself to his hardening length, lining it up with your entrance. You don’t give him the time to thrust himself into you as you sink yourself on his dick. biting your lip and looking at his widened eyes. “It’s okay, professor-” you let out a moan as you move your hips against his. “I’m on birth control– fuck–” Marco nods and gives your asscheeks a firm slap, digging his fingers on the soft skin. “Say my name, yoi—“ The blond’s nails will probably leave crescents on your skin later as he sinks them on your buttocks, moving you up and down his thick length. You bite your lip and look at him, teary-eyed from the stimulation. “Oh, Marco!” 

Soft, full lips press against your skin as he smirks, never ceasing his movements as he has his way with you, whispering praises and hands occasionally stroking your thighs. “Reader, I– I’m close again, yoi–” He murmurs against your skin, slowing down to try and keep himself from reaching his limit and you think for a few seconds before giving a devilish smirk. “Come inside me, Marco.” You’d fantasized about this so many times, his skilled hands exploring every inch of your body, plump lips against yours, blue eyes staring at you as if you were the only person on Earth. His moans snap you out of your trance, as he’s clearly unable to hold back anymore. “Oh, shit, I’m gonna come again–” And you feel him throb inside you as he empties himself for the second time, now inside you. “Sorry, yoi. You didn’t even get to finish yet.” He looks to the side, seemingly embarrassed, but you give his cheek a kiss and flash him a smirk.

You let out a squeal when Sabo lifts you up slightly, placing you on his lap and having you lean your back against his chest. You looked over your shoulder to see Sabo smiling brightly at you with his arms wrapped around your waist. In return, you smiled back, turning around to face your boyfriend. He chuckled as he brought his gloved hands to cup your cheeks, pulling you for a kiss. The two of you shared a sweet, loving kiss for a few moments before pulling away for air.

"You stink. Take a shower before you decide to cuddle me." you huffed, pushing yourself away from the blonde. Sabo pouts in response, trying to pull you back into his arms. The blonde could only laugh at your weak attempts to push him off. But he eventually listened to your words and allows you to drag him to the bathroom where you began to undress him, starting with the frilled cravat.

"Sabo! Surely you can undress yourself, you're a grown man!" you grumbled, putting away with the white garment into the laundry basket before unbuttoning his blue shirt.

"It's been a long time since we actually get to talk like this. Why don't you tell me about how your work has been?" he asked with a smile.

You sighed but decided to talk anyway. Sabo was right about how you both rarely see each other now these days. He's been swamped with work and often came home too tired to have a proper conversation with you. He'd only greet you tiredly before heading to the bathroom and ask for cuddles before falling asleep. When he hears you talk about what's going on at your workplace and the little dramas, he couldn't help but smile. He watched how you carefully helped him off his clothes before folding them neatly into the laundry basket.

"Sabo, are you even listening to me?" you asked, noticing how silent your boyfriend has been even after you talked about how one of your colleagues had messed up real bad at work. Sabo blinked and brought himself back into the conversation, letting out a small chuckle at being caught not paying attention.

"Sorry.....you just looked cute." he pointed out which made your cheeks flush bright red.

"S-Saying that doesn't change the fact that you weren't listening." you mumbled.

You grabbed all the required items to make a bubble bath and started a bath for yourself. The moment Sabo hears you preparing a bath, he peeked through the shower with a small pout on his face. He stepped out of the shower, resting his head on your shoulder with his hands hovering over your hips as you filled up the tub with water. After a few moments, you angled your head just right to kiss his jaw. His grip on your hips tightens for a second before he grabs your hand.

“Join me in the shower. Then bath.” he whispers, helping you take off the shirt that you’re wearing. Within seconds, he took off all clothes you were wearing—which were only an oversized t-shirt and undergarments. Sabo gives you space to take off your remaining clothes and enters the shower while you chucked your clothes in the laundry bin.

You stepped into the shower after Sabo did, watching the water soak into his blonde hair as he tilts his head forward, rivulets of water running down his face and slowly wandering down his body. Honestly, you couldn't help but let your eyes follow the water, feeling your cheeks grow warm. Sabo's hands rest on your hips, kneading them as he pulls you close. Sheepishly, you rest your head on his collarbone, letting out a sigh at the feeling of Sabo's hands gently running up and down your body.

"C'mon Sabo.....let's just clean up and go to bed.....we can do this tomorrow." you mumbled.

"But [Nameeee]....." he whines, draping his entire body onto yours. You shushed him, pressing your index finger against his lips before reaching over for the shampoo.

"Nope! The bath is gonna get cold if we don't hurry." you reminded your boyfriend who pouts in response but turns around to let you shampoo his hair.

Even though you had to stand on your toes to reach his hair, you enjoyed how Sabo hums in delight at the feeling of your hands massaging his scalp. Once you both were done with a quick shower, you reached to turn off the shower but Sabo stops you. You sent him a questioning look and he only smiles in return.

Sabo leans in for a kiss, his tongue snuck inside your mouth and he pushes you against the wall. You unconsciously grind against him as he placed his arms around you. The two of you stayed in the same position, you moved your fingers to play with his hair which made him moan against your lips at the sensation. Sabo holds you tightly by the waist and slides his free hand to finger you, humming into the kiss when he felt how wet you were.

"Sabo," you whimpered as he thrusts his fingers slowly into you.

"I can't take it anymore." he says, pulling out his fingers, turning you around, and pushing you against the wall.

"W-Wait.....Sabo.....! Aaaah—" your words were cut off when Sabo sinks into your entrance slowly. You didn't even know that you were wet enough to even take him without any foreplay.

"F-Fuck, guess I didn't have to prep you." he groans loudly at the feeling of your warm walls enveloping his length.

Once fully sheathed inside your cunt, he starts a steady rhythm that you were able to keep up with. You prop yourself up against the wall, struggling to keep on your hands from slipping off as your body rocks from Sabo's thrusting. It's hard for you to keep your voice down when Sabo starts pounding mercilessly into you. And all you could hope was that the noise from the shower is helping with covering your moans and whimpers.

"Sabo.....!" you moaned as you felt him thrust harder into you. He groans as he feels your spongy walls spasming around his cock, his eyes closed at the blissful feeling.

"You always look so beautiful when I fuck you like this." he praises. Sabo has his right arm around your middle, his palm reaching to grope your breasts while his fingers teased your nipples. His left arm was around your waist, his hand traveling down to your clit and starts rubbing it.

“Mm…..so tight…..just for me?” sabo nuzzled his head against your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. He kept on fondling your right breast, rubbing your clit all while he pounded into you.

“Aaah…..Sabo, faster…..!” you cried out gently, starting to get lightheaded from all the pleasure Sabo was giving you. He gently bites your shoulder to muffle his loud groans. 

When you start to lose your hold on the wall, you let out a whine and Sabo caught you before you could fall. He pulls out of you and turns you around, pinning you against the cold tile of the wall. Without warning, he picks you up by your thighs before pushing his cock back into your sensitive cunt. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, gripping his soaked hair between your fingers. The proximity left you no choice but to whimper right into his ear, earning a pleased groan from him.

His fingers dug painfully into your thighs as he tried to get a good hold through the running water. You moaned loudly at the new angle and he silenced you with his mouth. Sabo stuck his tongue inside your mouth and you let him kiss you deeply. Once he pulls away from the kiss, he paused for a brief moment to admire your features.

"You look so beautiful like this." he says before snapping his hips against yours, hitting that one particular spot that had you seeing stars.

"Sabo.....Gonna cum! Please......don't stop!" your delightful moans were music to his ears as he relentlessly pounded into you, trying to get you to reach your high. You held onto his shoulder for dear life when he moves harder and faster, complying with your demands.

"F-Fuck, you always feel so good!" he groans with a smirk on his face. Sabo tightened his grip on your thighs and hides his face in the crook of your neck, digging his teeth into your skin. His pace did not slow down and you swore that he got even faster.

With one last loud moan of his name. Sabo muffles his moans, blatantly spilling viscous streams of his hot cum inside you before sliding out of you slowly. He slowly sets you down on your feet, holding onto your waist as you struggled to stand straight. The two of you let the water wash away the evidence of your steamy session. The next moment, you found yourself being carried by your boyfriend who then sets you on the edge of the tub.

Sabo handles redoing the bath since the water has gone cold from how long you decided to shower. He eventually lowers you into the bathtub and joins you, positioning himself behind you. The warm water felt so nice and you could almost feel it drain all the exhaustion in your muscles. Sabo lets out a groan as he leaned back, pulling you by the waist until your back was against his chest.

"I never thought that we'd end up doing it in the shower!" he grins at you.

"Shut up, we had to redo the bath because you decided to have sex in the shower." you grumble angrily, glancing back at your lover who chuckles in response. 

You shifted around in your position between Sabo's lap, completely unaware of the consequences of your own movements. Sabo's laughter died down and he gulps nervously. It was pretty hard to find a position that you were comfortable with, and you were completely oblivious to how your squirming is affecting the male sitting behind you. He takes this chance to tighten his hold around your waist to stop you from wiggling around.

"Sabo?"

Sabo's lips met yours for a quick innocent peck that left you confused. Running his hands up and down your body, he begins to shift around a little. You could almost hear how fast his heart was beating. When he rocked his hips up against yours, you could feel his erection rubbing against your butt. You couldn't help but turn around to see Sabo looking slightly conflicted. There was a mix of desire and lust swimming in his eyes that you found yourself getting attracted to.

"What do you say we go for round two?" he suggests, his hands slithering down your curves and settling on your thighs. You held your breath, watching his right hand disappear into the water while his left hand resting on your left knee.

"Sabo....!" you squeaked, head tipping back when his hand found itself between your thighs. Your eyes slipped shut when Sabo's eager fingers found your swollen clit and rubbed slowly. He lets out a pleased hum at your reaction, circling his thumb over the sensitive nub. You gripped onto the rim of the tub, knuckles turning white from the amount of strength you put into it.

Your eyes opened when Sabo added another finger inside you and you slowly lowered your gaze toward his hand that was between your thighs. The hand that he had resting on your knee was now venturing up your stomach and further until he cupped your breast. A little whimper escaped you when he squeezed, pinching your nipple between your fingers. You couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together, moaning softly at the sensations. When Sabo didn't show any signs of going faster, you reached down to grab his wrist.

"Please.....Sabo, faster....." you pleaded.

Then you were looking at him, with a half-lidded gaze followed by a whimper of his name. Sabo loved that look on you, the begging look on your face feeding his ego knowing that he was the only one capable of making you weak. He could feel his cock stir at the sight of your flushed face, chest heaving from all the whimpers and moans. Your legs spread wider instinctively and Sabo took this opportunity to thrust his fingers even more.

Sabo was relentless, thrusting his fingers deep inside you, not giving you a second to even breathe. The sweet sound that left you when he reached a certain spot was one he wanted to hear over and over again. Once he found that spot, he began a fast and hard pace. Your thighs clamped shut but Sabo hooked his ankles around yours and forced them back open, even wider which allowed him to fuck his fingers into you deeper. An embarrassingly loud moan left your lips and you brought your hand up to cover your mouth.

"Why so embarrassed, sweetheart?" he chuckled.

"Sabo, I'm so close......" you gasped, hips rolling against his fingers.

"Go on, then." he urged with a raspy tone. It was all you needed it seemed, because the moment he gave you the okay, you were crying out. Your walls clamped down on his fingers, throbbing and clenching around them sinfully as you reached your orgasm. Sabo relished the way you whined and moaned, writhing between his legs as he kept fingering you. It was when you tugged on his wrist that he decided to pull away, letting you settle back down into the water.

Sabo leans to kiss you, one arm finding your waist and the other one coming up to gently hold the back of your head. His fingers tangled into your wet hair, angling your head just right so he could slip his tongue in.  You turned around and situated yourself on his lap, getting more comfortable as you indulged him with a passionate kiss. He groans at the feeling of your naked body pressed against his and your hands roaming his chest.

A light gasp left his lips when you made yourself comfortable on his lap, head throwing back at the feeling of your soft fold grazing his hardening cock. For a moment, he wondered if his relentless teasing had caused you to be this horny but he's not complaining about it at all. Not when it felt so good to finally have some sort of relief, but he wanted more than what you're giving him.

"Shit.....you're driving me insane, [First Name]......" he groans impatiently. 

The blond watches as one of your hands slipped into the water to grasp his cock. You squeezed gently before stroking it at a slow pace. It was a playful gesture, your fingers were teasing, barely brushing up until it was ghosting over the swollen tip. Sabo groans at your slow pace, his hips jerking at your touch. You adjusted your position until your knees were on either side of him, hovering your pussy over his length. You let his cock rub against your wet entrance before lowering yourself slowly. A soft moan left both of your lips as you fully took him in.

"F-Fuck!" Sabo groans breathlessly, throwing his head back and closed his eyes as you start to move your hips up and down.

He didn't seem to mind leaving things up to you for the time being. You found a rhythm, moving your hips up and down. Your swollen folds wrapped around his cock perfectly, tightening as you took his cock even deeper. All he could do was groan lowly every single time your cunt clenched around him. Sabo held your hips while your hands flew to his shoulders, fingers digging as you bounced on his cock. He decided to take initiative when you weren't going as fast as he'd like.

"That's more like it." came Sabo's pace, it was much faster than the one you set earlier and you can't help but bite your lip to contain your mewls.

He knows that you'll complain about the water on the floor but all he could focus on was the sight of you. His eyes were fixated on the lewd expression on your face, and the bouncing of your breasts every time he thrusts into you. He moves his head, his lips meeting yours once more. The kiss was not the usual soft, gentle, and passionate. It was hot, and messy, with drool connecting your mouths when you pulled away. 

"I-I'm gonna cum.....! Sabo.....Aaah…..! You feel so good!" you felt his cock swelling up more inside of you. The pleasure running through your body was overwhelming, and all you could manage were babbles of Sabo’s name and begging him for more. Your head dropped forward, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. From this position, you could clearly hear his grunts and groans. 

You cried out his name one last time, powerless to the sudden feeling washing your body. Sabo continued to move his hips, driving his cock in and out of you over and over, chasing after his own release. He dropped his head on your shoulder once he reached his orgasm, letting out a satisfied groan as he relaxed in your hold. He wraps his arm around your back, caressing it lovingly.

"The floor is a mess. And we have to clean up again." you mumble.

”C’mon babe. We can just relax and snuggle in the tub. Plus we don't have anything going on tomorrow." he mumbles, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"Fine." 

Total: 3165 words Published: 18.05.2022

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. 

You woke yourself up. You felt the movement of your hands as you gestured, even though your brain was asleep. The touch that clasped over yours in an impatient bid for you to stop moving. 

“Does it look cool?” you signed, barely conscious. 

The movement around you felt abstract, a series of vibrations and sounds somewhere in the ether as Law shifted next to you. The firm grasp on your hands didn’t stop your slight gestures. 

“Big scar?”

“Yes, stop moving,” Law grumbled, taking your wrists a bit firmer. 

A snicker that sounded more like a wheeze escaped your throat as your brain began to wake. Your eyelids peeled open little by little, fluttering until they reached full blinks. The world around you had to fall into place after being scattered by unconsciousness, turning from a mosaic of shapes and colors into an image of the Polar Tang's med bay and your captain sitting next to you. 

“You’re awake,” Law grumbled.

You offered him a slight grin, the dry skin of your lips cracking. “You don’t sound very happy about it.”

“I can’t say I’m very happy about the fact that you got yourself shot.” Law stood from his chair, turning sharply to grab a few items from the medical cart in the corner. “What were you even thinking?” 

You poised your lips to respond.

“That was rhetorical,” Law snapped, his shoulders rigid and his posture stiff as he placed a few items on a metal tray. “What were my rules?”

You wavered slightly, not entirely certain it wasn’t a trick question. 

“Your loyalty is to this crew,” Law started, and one of the drawers on the medical supply cart closed with a thud. 

“My loyalty is to the crew,” you repeated, your brain still foggy as you blinked. “First aid training is mandatory.”

“And what else?” 

Law turned, bringing his tray to where you lay, gloves donned and a sour expression on his face.

“And… no getting shot.”

“No getting shot,” Law affirmed with a scowl before you could even finish the sentence. He sat back down. You hadn’t noticed he’d already removed the blanket covering your injury sites until he carefully loosened the dressing to peek underneath. “And why not get shot specifically?”

You went quiet for a moment. “Because it means I’m not in the range of your room.”

“It means you weren’t in range,” Law grunted, and you wondered whether he was even listening to you. “All you had to do was stay at least 387 meters from me, but you didn’t stick to the plan. You wandered off.” 

“Captain?”

He continued to check you over, examining his handiwork. 

“And got gunned down, of all things. I’ve prepared a thorough cocktail of medication for you that you’re going to take every day. I'd better not see any leftovers or hear about you taking your pills late.” 

“Captain?”

“This is why it’s important to stick to the plan—”

“Law, really—” You took one of his gloved hands, watching an incredulous fire flicker across Law’s eyes. You placed his hand on the blankets in your lap. A vein twitched just above his brow as he opened his mouth to speak. You held up a finger, shushing him with a light laugh. “Thank you for taking care of me. I know you must have been worried.”

For a moment, the soft expression in your gaze disarmed him. Visible tension melted from Law’s shoulders as he glanced away.

Given his skill set, removing a bullet or two was nothing. The hard part was easy, and the stitches should have been easier. But it was the way he found you—the way your blood pooled around your body… He supposed it hadn’t just been the blood, but the parts of you he had to put back into place. Killing those pirates in the most twisted way he knew how hadn’t been enough. 

“I wasn’t worried,” he said, tilting his head down until his hat obscured his eyes. He tried to stand, but you held his hand firmly in yours, even as he stared into the corner of the room opposite you. “Just… stick to the plan next time. Getting yourself into trouble where I can’t reach you wasn’t part of that.” 

You let out a slight laugh that made your abdomen burn with tension. You leaned back on the pillow behind you, grinning to yourself as Law scowled. You had a soft, carefree expression on your face, one Law couldn’t hope to understand. But he didn’t have time to scold you. No, not when you shifted your head to meet his eyes as you squeezed his hand. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, Law,” you whispered. 

You let your eyes close as you heard Law breathe in and out. You felt him relax in your gentle grasp, squeezing your hand back. 

“Will you let me look at your stitches now?” He frowned, finally turning back to you. “I’ve arranged a recovery protocol for you, and I need you to pay attention.” 

Law continued to check your vitals and your healing wounds, never once mentioning that he’d been at your side all night.