You couldn't count the number of times that Killer stumbled through your door, covered in blood--often times not his own--and smelling of gunpowder and whatever coolant his partner used in those contraptions they relied on during jobs. You'd seen him disheveled, injured, bleeding, beaten, half-conscious and--hell, once, even wasted drunk. Mercenary work was highly dangerous and unpredictable. Neither Killer nor his business partner ever knew what they'd really be facing when they accepted their contracts.
You always worried. It wasn't that Killer wasn't good at what he did. With someone as capable as Eustass Kid at his side--notorious street rat and second hand tech refurbisher--the two of them rarely encountered a contract they couldn't complete for their clients. The duo was a highly sought after team in all circles of society. If you had a problem that needed fixing, their services were a simple phone call and transfer of credits away.
Kidnappings, ransoms, murders, assaults, thefts, tech hijacking, corporate hacking, forced implant removals, forced implant installations...the two of them had seen it all. Mariejois City was home to the world's most powerful elite, all the way down to the lowest dregs of society.
And unfortunately for those just trying to scrape by, crime was profitable here. And easier to accomplish than it should have been. It was only through the help of people like Killer and Kid that the average resident had a chance against such corruption and manipulation.
You hear him before he enters your home, his heavy and uneven steps tromping up the concrete stairwell just down the hall from your apartment. He always made a terrible racket; it was a wonder he could successfully pull off any of the jobs that required him to keeps things on the down-low.
Your DNA-encoded locks scanned his profile and disengaged as he approached, allowing him entry. The door closes with a hiss, and he steps into your living room, dropping his backpack and motorcycle helmet onto the ground in a pile. You're sure your floor has a permanent indent where he always set his things down.
He's predictably disheveled, blonde hair tied back haphazardly. His clothes are singed and torn, and he smells strongly of smoke. Well...more accurately, the napalm grenades that Kid had developed not long ago. Seems they'd had to use a few.
He collapsed onto your couch in a tired heap, groaning as his body was finally able to relax. You glanced at the clock, knowing he'd left early to scope the location out. 13 hours since then.
"Didn't go as planned?" You guess casually, still tinkering with the piece of tech your client needed next week. This job had been giving you more headaches than you cared to admit to.
"Nowhere near..." He muttered, swiping the control for your tv broadcast screen and flicking through several channels. You don't know why he bothered. Both of you knew there was nothing on but depressing news, over-the-top dramas, fake talk shows, and the odd hijacked radio station. You don't know why you bothered paying for the service anyway. All it did was increase the cost of your rent.
"The target knew we were gonna be there before we managed to set up in time. Had a whole team of hired security there to get in our way. Ex-marine types."
"What? How?"
"Hell if I know." Killer tossed the control away again after finding nothing of interest playing. "Kid thinks we were set up. I'm thinking he's right. Was no way they should have known we were coming."
"Who was the client?"
"Donquixote-"
"-Doflamingo?" You finish with a sharp, bewildered glance at your blonde friend. "The Doflamingo?"
Killer shook his head, rubbing his eyes with a groan. "Yeah."
"Fuck, Killer, of course you were set up." You said, dropping your piece of tech and reaching for your tablet, fingers flying on the screen as you searched his name on the net. "This guy's got a reputation of leaving bodies behind wherever he goes. I mean, he got his own brother killed while negotiating a business merger years back. Everyone knows not to trust that bastard."
"He paid well upfront."
"You know why? Because he fully expected to take it all back when your dead bodies ended up in that warehouse for him to collect." You chastise, rising from your seat and walking to stand in front of him. You tossed the tablet into his lap. He only gave it a cursory glance.
You sigh heavily, placing your hands on your hips. "When are you gonna start vetting your clients?"
"When I can afford not to crash on your couch every night and get my own place." He admitted, pinning you with a long stare. "Don't wanna keep holding you back."
You laugh, a harsh, amused sound.
"Hold me back? Killer, the only person holding me back is me. If I really wanted a less shitty place to live, where those annoying neon store signs didn't light up my entire studio all day and all night, I'd sign over my soul to the devils at the top and make a killing taking apart the priceless tech they keep hidden away from the public." You say, gesturing to the window in question.
As usual, the dizzyingly bright pinks and greens and blues of the storefront's neon advertisements kept your ceiling and a small section of your wall by the bed looking like a nightclub at all hours of the day. No amount of covering it with any shitty posters or blinds was any help. The light always found a way to bleed through. You'd long past given up trying.
"You crashing on my couch isn't keeping me from going anywhere. My own distaste for the corporate overlords does."
He looks at you as if he doesn't believe you, doubt plain as day even under the heavy lids and tired eyes.
"I meant when I said you could stay as long as you like. You're not a freeloader. Hell, you even do my laundry sometimes." You continue with a shrug. "Really. I don't mind."
"I don't want to take advantage of our friendship. You're the only other person in this city I trust completely other than Kid." Killer gives a heavy sigh. "Just promise you'll tell me when I'm not welcome anymore, ok? I won't hold it against you."
The sincerity in his words warms your heart, and you can't help the small smile that lifts the corner of your lips. "Hey...I don't think that'll ever be the case."
A heavy silence fills the space as you two stare at each other, until Killer reluctantly acknowledges your statement with a nod.
Satisfied, you reach towards him and grab his hands, pulling to have him stand. "Alright, come on. You smell like death and whatever chemical shit Kid puts in those grenades. You need a shower."
"Your shower sucks..." He insults without bite, and you only laugh. He lets you push him towards the bathroom door. "Terrible water pressure, and I'm too tall."
"Only one I have." You say, giving him a gentle shove and hanging back in the living room. You call after him as the door slides shut behind him. "And don't hog all the hot water this time!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's late. Too late, really. You should be in bed, sleeping to recover your energy for the coming day. Staring at and tinkering with tech gave you a headache and really wasn't good for your one organic eye, you knew that. Sleep was a necessary task in your day to day. Yet there you sat in the circular window of your shitty studio apartment, eyes squinting past the bright neon of the advertisement signs to the streets far below.
It's stupid, really. You weren't going to be able to see Killer this high off the street level in the crowds of Servicers flaunting all the skin they could get away with to lure their next handful of credits, drunk businessmen stumbling home from a night at the bars, and late night shift workers hoping for a bit of relaxation before waking up for the daily grind the next morning. What's more, the chances of Killer coming back anytime soon were slim.
He'd left for a job only a few hours ago, claiming he'd be back before heading out the door. He'd lingered a second longer, looking at you with a strange expression before putting on his cycle helmet, and you wondered if he'd perhaps forgotten something. But the odd moment had passed and he'd stepped out into the hallway and disappeared right after.
You held the mug of synthetic tea in your hands, hating the bitter, manufactured taste but knowing there wasn't anything else that could really calm your nerves in that moment. The coffee supplements the vendor across from your building sold were too potent for such a late hour, and you knew the sleeping meds the clinic sold were always laced with some addictive shit every other day.
You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and leaning your head back against the window sill.
The long hidden feelings for your unconventional roommate were becoming increasingly difficult to keep from the object of your infatuation himself. At points, you wondered if Killer didn't suspect the predominant reason you didn't mind him staying at your place for over a year now. Sure, you truly didn't mind helping out a good friend--Killer had saved your life once or twice from client unwilling to pay and unhappy when you turned a gun on them for being stingy with their payments. It was the least you could do, really.
Seeing him everyday was a blessing. Having the strong mercy around all the time banished the loneliness you'd once felt living on your own. Sure, maybe he didn't fill the space with talk all the time, and he was gone more often than he was actually at home...but the expectation that someone would eventually be there with you when you came home was...a far greater comfort than you'd ever imagined it would be.
Over the months of living together, you'd slowly come to care for him on a much more intimate level. You worried after him, cooked things you knew he liked, and even tended to some of the minor wounds he brought home from his jobs. If that wasn't domesticity in some sense, you didn't know what was.
Calling it a relationship would be overstepped the line. Killer hadn't ever voiced an attraction for you, and you weren't the type to see things that weren't there. This infatuation was one-sided, and that fact you could handle. Simply being at his side to help him and keep him company, and inevitably get to a place where he could support himself on his own...you didn't mind.
Just getting to be in his life in any capacity would satisfy you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He broke the news to you while you sat next to each other on the couch, watching mindless television in companionable silence.
"Kid and I landed a serious gig." His sudden conversation startled you, and you looked his way. "If all goes well, the payout will be...big."
Your brow cocks. "How big?"
"Big enough to pay for a place on Grand Line Avenue for a year."
Wow. That was big. Grand Line Avenue housed the moderately rich and influential. It wasn't the Ritz, but it was far and away better than the dump you lived in. You couldn't even afford a place down there in your dreams.
The awe cuts short, and you look at him with concern. "Killer...what the fuck are they wanting you to do?"
"..." His silence is worrying, and he won't look at you. Until finally he clears his throat. "We're gonna steal a shipment of Vega-Tech implants from the Mariejois manufacturing plant-"
"What!?"
He holds up a placating hand, trying to stop the outburst he knows is coming before it happens. "Y/N, it's alright-"
Too late, you're already standing, pacing the space in front of your couch, neon lights from the advertisement signs getting in your eyes and just making you more upset. "Vega-Tech? Killer, this is by far the stupidest thing I've ever heard-!"
Now he was standing, sighing and rolling his eyes. "We know what we're doing-"
"-the most secured and dangerous facility in the city...are you out of your minds-?"
"Y/N."
"-I bet Kid talked you into accepting this, that bastard-!"
"Y/N!" Killer practically shouted, hands coming up to grab your shoulders tersely. Not too hard to hurt, but enough to get you to shut up and stand in one place for a moment. "Stop, ok? Just stop."
Your tirade ends, your eyes searching his face with confusion and worry. "This is too much, Killer."
"No, Y/N. This is exactly the sort of job we need. Something big. Something no one else will take on. It'll put us in a position where we can both get out of the gutters and on our feet."
His hands still grip your shoulders tightly, and it's then that you notice how close the two of you are standing. But this whole situation overshadows any of your attraction. This was seriously wrong, you could feel it in your gut.
"We know the risks, we know what we'd be facing when we get inside. The intel and recon on this one has been incredibly thorough. It's all been prepared and thought over a million times by the client. All that's left to do is execute the plan."
"Who's the client?"
He looks away from you again, not saying a word for several beats, before finding the courage to meet your gaze again. "Blackbeard"
You close your eyes and shake your head, forcibly taking a calming breath to prevent another long-winded lecture to him about the integrity of the clients they take jobs from. But you felt it would fall on deaf ears. He'd said they'd already accepted it. No amount of talking would get him to back out now.
"I don't..." You shake your head, the ache in your chest growing more pronounced. "This is too dangerous. Pleasereconsider."
"No."
"Why? You could take any other job."
The stare he pinned you with was firm. "This is my chance to pay back every single night I took up your couch, this past year of taking care of me, and making sure I was alright. After the payout, I want to make sure you don't regret having been my friend for all this time."
You don't know what to say. You should tell him that he's being an idiot, but much as you try the words don't come out. All you can do is search his face for any sign that he was lying, that this was all some sick joke. But he's as serious as you've ever seen him. Determined, even. He was firmly committed to this terrible decision.
You swallow thickly, shoulders falling a little as you ask, "When?"
"Tomorrow morning." His hands slide down your shoulders and take both of your hands in his, giving them a tight squeeze. "Don't worry, I'll be fine, Y/N."
You say nothing, and neither of you have to speak to know that you don't believe him. He gives your hands another squeeze, before pulling away.
"There are some things I need to prepare beforehand, some equipment to buy..." He mutters, stooping to grab his bag and cycle helmet. "I should...go. I don't want to forget anything before the gig."
He's nearly to the door before you whirl in place. "Wait."
He stops, looking back to hear whatever you had to say. And for several seconds it gets caught in your throat.
"Will you stay the night...before tomorrow?"
He blinks, then gives you a pleasant smile. "Why wouldn't I?"
Without waiting for your answer, he turns back and walks through your door, shutting with a hiss behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There's a thick silence in your dark apartment that night. Heavy and uncomfortable. It weighed down like a blanket, smothering and suffocating. In all the years you'd known each other, you couldn't recall another time things had been so uneasy between you and Killer.
For once, neither of you comment on the inane and ridiculous tv broadcast that your eyes were glued to as you slowly ate your cheap takeout from the Japanese place down the street.
"My treat." He'd said. "As a thank you for taking care of me, Y/N."
The distraction of the screen gave you time to think. In your case, you weren't even paying attention to the talk show host's terribly insensitive jokes and ranting political agendas. The knotting worry in your gut drew your attention and forced you to zone completely out.
So much could go wrong tomorrow. A search on the net had lead you to believe Blackbeard, whoever this guy was, wasn't someone Kid or Killer could trust. Digging deep and reaching out to some contacts you knew around town only ended up in more unpleasant rumors and whispered sins the man had allegedly perpetrated. Nothing about this man inspired confidence in the gig going well.
Sure, Killer had Kid with him. For as impulsive and prone to reckless behavior that you knew Kid could be, he wouldn't put Killer's life in danger for the sake of a job. If things went south, there would always be another gig to take up tomorrow, but someone you could trust with your life in this city? Hell, they only came once in a lifetime.
What if something did go wrong? What were you supposed to do? Killer had become such a constant in your life, you didn't know how you'd handle seeing him walk out that door and never come back through. The MCPD didn't give two shits about freelance mercs out to steal Vega-Tech. There'd be no phone call with news as to what happened to him. If he never came back, you'd know he hadn't made it, but other than that...you'd always be left to wonder.
So lost in thought, you didn't notice the stray tears sliding down your cheeks until Killer's thumb brushed one away, startling you into looking at him.
"Y/N...it'll be ok." He reassured in his quiet tone, the pinks of the neon signs illuminating his face to you in the darkness. His thumb reached over to brush away your other cheek, but came to rest there once the moisture was gone. "You trust me, right?"
"Of course I do, it's this Blackbeard I don't trust."
He couldn't help the rueful smile that lifted one corner of his mouth. "You searched him up, didn't you?"
"...yes."
He huffed an amused breath. "So did I, right before we met him. We know what we're dealing with, and we've both put a lot of thought into this job. But the reward far outweighs the risk."
Your extended silence makes it clear you still have doubts, so he clears his throat and tries again.
"I'll have Kid with me-"
"I know."
"-and we're as prepared as we can be."
"These are all great things, but it's still not making me feel any better." You admit with a sigh, inadvertently leaning your cheek further into his touch. You knew you should have pulled away, for the sake of your friendship, but just this once, you wanted to pretend that there was a possibility of something more.
Killer looked down at his food, then up towards your window where the neon signs shined brightly, deep in thought. Several seconds passed, until he raised his gaze back to you. There was...something in his eyes you could describe. Something solid and...certain.
"I'm not gonna lie to you. This could very well be the last night of my life. There's no guarantee of me walking back through that door tomorrow." He gestures to your front door with his head, eyes glued to your own. "And if that's the case, I don't want to die with the regret of never having told the truth..."
His other hand comes up to cradle your cheek, and he leans closer on the couch to bring you face-to-face with him. Your heart is hammering in your chest at the touch, at the proximity, at the way he was staring into your eyes as if memorizing every tiny detail of your face. "Truth?"
"You are my reason to keep going, every single day. You're the voice that tells me to get up, to fight back, to not let it all end in some back alley or waste tunnel where no one will know how to find me. You're the reason to wake up in the morning, Y/N, to live and enjoy doing it. You always have been."
Was this a dream? You feel breathless. "Killer-"
"If I die tomorrow, just know...I did everything I possibly could to come back to you." He ended in a whisper, forehead coming to rest on your own. "Everything."
The meaning in between his words is nearly too much for you to comprehend. As if all of your fantasies were coming true, you hear him infer the truth you so wished could be possible all these years. The reciprocation of your feelings, laid bare the night before you might lose the man you loved with all of your heart. The bittersweet triumph. The cruel irony.
You'd have it all tonight, just to lose it all come morning.
"Don't go. Please. " You whisper sadly. His head shakes gently against yours.
"I have to," The resigned acceptance of this reality simultaneously broke your heart and set ablaze a fire in your chest. You found your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, eyes falling to watch the way his lips formed each word as they draw closer to your own. "because I owe the woman I love so much...too much..."
You don't know which one of you is the first to initiate that first kiss--perhaps both of you--but it sends an aching tingle down your spine the moment your lips come together at last. His lips are softer than you could have ever imagined, and match your every move with equal fervor.
Killer releases a breath through his nose, whatever tension he'd been carrying in his shoulders falling away as his hands brought you closer, angling you so he could kiss you even deeper. The nerves of laying his heart bare to you melted away as your eagerness shoved aside all doubt that you didn't return the same feelings. The way you whimpered into his mouth ensured that much.
Your fingers grasp his shirt and pull him towards you, unwilling to let him break away now that you had him. As if this would all turn to dust or you'd wake up to find this was just a sick, twisted dream.
Your dinner and the broadcast forgotten, curious and eager hands begin to wander skin and clothes and anything else they can reach.
You've touched him before, in light and friendly ways in the time since he began staying at your place. Your apartment was small, sometimes there was no getting around a little physicality. But now you let your fingers trail greedily over the taut muscles of Killer's arms, feelings every vein and cord as you went along. So strong...wrapped around you protectively, hugging you closer to his chest.
When the layers of clothing between you became too frustrating, they were flung off your bodies one by one. You separated only long enough for your shirts to come off, breaths panting in the space between you. And when all that was left were your panties and his boxers, you shifted to straddle his lap, capturing his lips in a bruising kiss.
You ground down on his lap, relishing in the heavy groan Killer reacted with. His hands rushed to grip your hips, guiding you as you rocked back and forth on his tented boxers. You could feel a growing wetness in your own panties, and knew you couldn't take much more foreplay. The night was growing older, and there wasn't much time before he left you, possibly for the final time.
You broke apart for air, and Killer took the opportunity to dip his mouth lower; he pressed feather-light kisses along your jaw, your neck, collarbones, and finally the top of your breast. You arch your back and moan as his mouth takes a nipple and sucks, rutting his erection up into your clothed core.
"Killer..." You whimper, feeling the squeeze of his fingers in reply. Hearing the way you say his name sets his nerves on fire. "Want you-"
"Fuck." He raggedly curses against your skin, hands shakily lowering to free himself from his boxers. You lift your hips just enough for his erection to spring free from the fabric, standing at attention and throbbing as it brushes the skin of your stomach.
Using his shoulders for leverage, you lift again, biting your lip as you shift your panties to the side, too impatient to fully take them off. The way he stares at you so openly and with such awe and affection...it's all you can do not to moan.
His hands settle on your hips again as you slowly sink down onto his cock. Your breath is knocked away at the fullness, at the stretch and pleasure that immediately springs up when he's all the way inside. Killer hisses and breathes out a sigh, eyes glued to the way he's buried inside of your cunt with such ease. You were so wet for him, he couldn't believe you'd been so wet.
"Better than any damn dream..." He mutters, head falling forward to gently bite your breast as you begin to move your hips. "Y/N...my sweet Y/N..."
The sound of his devotion to you sends your eyes slamming shut as you begin to ride his lap, shocked at how good the slide of his cock felt against your inner walls. You were an idiot, truly. All this time, you could have had this man like you'd wanted, keening his name as you worked your hips. But you'd been too scared to say a damn thing.
It's so good. You're fucked, you're so totally fucked, because you know you'll be shattered come tomorrow if he's gone, if you lose him, but you can't think over the fact that you'd finally gotten what you wanted. He was yours, right here in this moment, he was yours. And if this was simply to be a memory of a man you once knew, you determined you'd make it the best damn memory you'd ever had.
Breathless, gasping moans and the slaps and squelches of your skin colliding into your lap echo around your little studio. The tv is drowned out by your lust, and his groans as he helps you along. It's dark, but the neon of the advertisements is enough to see him by, and you're struck by how this hunk of a man is all yours. Incredible. All yours, all yours, all yours...
Your nails dig into the skin of his built shoulders as you change angles on your own, the head of his cock hitting just where you needed to start really building up your orgasm. It pooled low in your core, the heat and the itch rising up your spine as it came closer and closer.
One hand shoots up to bury in his hair, pressing him into your chest as he sucks and licks your nipples, adding pleasure to the collective pool, until your hips stuttered and you cried out the only warning you could.
His lips detach from your breast as you cum around him, squeezing and pulsing his cock with each contraction and wave of pleasure. His hips give slow thrusts to work you through it, prolonging your orgasm as long as possible, until you slump boneless against his chest.
You're panting, struggling to breathe, as you feel his arms slide around your waist and thighs, until he's hoisting you up from the couch and standing, shuffling his way to your bed. The beat of your heart feels intensified as he gently lays you down, sliding to hover over your tired and trembling body.
He kisses you, and while the heat from before is still there, lingering in the way he slots his hips between your legs, cock brushing through your soaked slit, you're shocked by how tender it all feels. His fingers brush over your shoulders, arms, and sides. Not an inch of your neon-painted skin is missed, as if admiring a painting through touch alone.
You've never loved those neon signs more as he pulls away to look into your eyes, seeing Killer lit with the slanting colors of pink and blue and green. It's with a slow thrust that he enters you again, filling you and starting a soft, slow pace so as not to cause pain from your overstimulated nerves.
You make love under bright neon and the darkness of your apartment. Come morning, you'd have to watch him leave. Whether he returned, you'd have to wait and see. But he was here now, holding you, caressing you, and loving you with all the life he thought he had left.
That was more than you had ever hoped for.
ns 15.158.61.55da2
