ave

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⇀ ave (22) | student, loves volleyball and gym, dislikes bell pepper and liquorice, certified rad tech, free-time writer |

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[wing-ed-thing]

God Spelled Backwards is D-O-C-T-O-R (Trafalgar Law x Reader, Chapter XVII)

Synopsis: Dr. Trafalgar Law is the brilliant, cold, new electrophysiologist fresh out of residency with something to prove. He wasted no time in singling you out as you battle his unyielding demands and an overbooked schedule with non-existent back up. Your dynamic goes beyond professional tension, and in a hospital where boundaries are protocol, and protocol is gold, it’s an all out fight for power and control.

Word Count: 7.2k

Tags/Warnings: Minors DNI, CardiacElectrophysiologist!Law, EchoTech!Reader, AFABFEM!Reader, Modern Hospital AU, Language, Enemies to Lovers, Character Death, Victim-Blaming, Assault Investigation, Medical Emergency, Hospital Treatment, Institutional Medical Malpractice

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 Chapter XIV Chapter XV Chapter XVI Chapter XVII

You’d gathered the most damning evidence into a single box at Syrup and saved copies on an external drive. Then, that evening after you saved Saturn, you sent your scans to Law, who had just about the reaction you expected. 

You heard him heave a deep sigh from the other side of the line, then pause. “This has to be some sort of joke, right?”

You could hear the agitation in his voice as he scrolled through the files, skimming the documents. Law muttered a few choice words under his breath as he processed the evidence presented to him. You couldn’t blame him for needing a moment. The files dated back years, with several professionals involved and hundreds, if not thousands, of patients seen. This wasn’t just a handful of misdiagnosed patients; this was a conspiracy.

“Well,” Law breathed, “if there’s any silver lining to this, it’s that Hiriluk was too much of an idiot to shred these. I suppose if you’re going to be a disgrace to the title of doctor, you might as well keep the evidence explicit.” 

You could almost hear his unspoken thoughts through his voice. For his apt but harsh words, you knew there was more brewing just beneath the surface. 

“I wanted to show it to you first,” you said. Law was silent. “And when we were in the meeting, I just… I just knew.” 

“And after what happened today…” Law’s voice sounded a bit farther from the phone. You could already picture him sitting back on his pristine leather couch with his head in his hands. “This is a shit show. This is absolutely ridiculous. What sort of—”

You listened as he continued to mutter to himself. But Law was never the type to wallow, and his lamenting didn’t last long after a few pointed insults directed at providers who should have known better. 

You heard Law pick up his phone again, and when he spoke, his voice was clearer and more determined. Steady. “So, we’re not going to Lucci with this,” he said firmly. 

“I didn’t think we were,” you agreed.

“After this fuck ass investigation, I don’t trust him with this. I’m taking this to Kuma,” Law decided with barely contained rage. Each word carried a biting edge that he kept barely hidden behind his steady tone. “With your consent.”

You blinked. “You’re asking my permission to bring this to the Chief of Patient Safety?”

“I’d like you there if you’re willing,” he said, "if you’re okay with me taking this higher.” 

Maybe you were asking a different question than what he was answering. But Law was completely clear. He was seeking your permission, your consent to move forward. 

“To be honest,” you breathed, your small voice traveling through your quiet apartment, “handle whatever you want to. I think people are more likely to believe you anyway.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Law said quickly and sternly, “I want to share this with Kuma and Saturn. I trust Kuma enough to give this the weight it deserves, and I think Saturn could be an unlikely ally in all of this. He’s already been making good progress—good enough to tell me that he wants me on the review to start sorting through these LVT cases.”

The idea made you pause for a moment in consideration. It wasn’t orthodox, but it made sense. 

“And who’s on echo?” you asked. 

“You,” Law replied quickly—confidently, “Saturn’s petitioning for it himself. You’re the one who spotted this pattern, and I want everyone to know it.” 

Hogback’s scowling face flashed through your mind. The feeling of your verbal reprimand lingered for a few seconds. Then, the heartache of Eustass being escorted out of the hospital by security hit like an avalanche. 

“Is that a good idea?” you asked, your voice suddenly small. 

Law paused for a moment. 

“What are you afraid of?” he asked. The question lacked any accusation or judgment. No, he simply wanted to know what just flashed through your mind a moment ago. 

“I suppose nothing more than what’s already happened,” you sighed, curling in on yourself and glancing off to the side. 

“That’s more than enough to be afraid of.” His words were quick and logical, as they always were. They allowed you to exhale, as if you had finally found shelter during a storm. “If you want to let things play out as they are and keep your head down, I’ll respect that.”

“You wouldn’t want it that way,” you interrupted, speaking before you even realized what you were saying. 

A beat passed.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” Law said slowly and steadily. 

You held onto those words for a moment. He was different like this—those rare times he put others ahead of his own ambitions, plans, and wants. No, those moments weren’t anomalies anymore. You could see it now; he’d always been this way. 

“I think… that things can’t get worse?” You let out a breathy laugh. “Well, of course they can… Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of. That something bad will happen to me… To you…” You let out another breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, shaking your head. “Can I be honest?”

“Always.” Law didn’t hesitate a moment. 

Even with permission, you paused. You gasped for air, then said, “I wish there was someone else who could take care of this. I’m so sick of this institution. Thinking about it makes me feel like I’m gonna die—”

“Consider it done,” Law cut in just as you were getting heated. The same cold calmness laced his voice just like it did in the lab, bringing your fiery anxiety to an even temperature. “Keep doing what you usually do in imaging. I’ll work on pulling someone for the review. I can find a way to use the evidence I have—”

“I didn’t say I wanted off the review,” you blurted, and Law went quiet on the other side of the line. You looked down. “All I said was that I’m scared.” 

Law remained silent for a moment. And then…

“Why do you want to stay at the North?” he asked. It was a simple question. No judgment. No tease. “After everything that’s happened, you’re fighting so hard to stay. Why is that?”

You’d heard that question many times before from different people. And now, hearing it from Law, you couldn’t help but wonder for the umpteenth time if you were just recklessly stubborn. To others, the answer changed. The sugarcoating changed. But to Law…

“Because it’s mine,” you answered, surprising yourself with how quickly you responded. Law didn’t say a word, still giving you the floor. You stood, took a breath, and started to pace. “Because… I’ve been building this department since I was twenty-one. I know these patients better than some of the doctors do. I work with my friends every day. I…”

You found yourself standing in front of the corkboard hanging in your living room as you finally exhaled all the air from your lungs. Your eyes locked onto a single Polaroid pinned in the center. You didn’t remember who took it.

In the picture, you stood in one of the imaging rooms, holding a probe in one hand and the handle of your cart in the other. The background had changed over the years, but the room remained the same. Similarly, you had also changed. 

You looked much younger. You wore a red t-shirt that read, “North Blue University Medical Center: Cardiology,” and a goofy grin. You truly looked like a kid back then. You’re sure you’ll look back at pictures of yourself now and think the same thing in the future. 

“I’m afraid to leave. I don’t want to walk away from everything I’ve done,” you said, mesmerized by the picture. Maybe you were being too honest. “I’ve looked at other places before.”

Law blinked from the other side of the line. “You have?” he questioned. “When?”

“After… something that happened when I first got hired,” you admitted. “A few times since… Not too long ago, after Penguin told me he thought I should leave.” Another pause on the other end of the line. “It wasn’t really too serious,” you continued.

“But what happened?” 

Your eyes drifted away from the corkboard as you kept pacing the room. “And then I would get a patient who reminds me why I do this,” you sighed as you stepped around the perimeter of your living area. “There are people whose images I’ve been working on since they’ve been at North. Not to sound too self-important.”

“But it is important. I know what the imaging department means to you,” Law cut in. “I thought you might be ready for a fight. I just… didn’t want to throw you into anything you weren’t prepared for.”

“If I can get on the board—on your research—I want to do it,” you snapped, a defiant definitiveness in your tone. But any confidence you could shield yourself with couldn’t get past Law. 

“Are you sure?” 

Unaccusing. 

Law didn’t elaborate, even though he could have. He might have mentioned the assault investigation, which, although hushed up, was still ongoing in the background. He could have discussed the police investigation and the many ways it might conclude. Or the potential retaliation the North might stir up if they didn’t plan to let you go first. 

There was too much that could go wrong—too many moving parts—and Law understood that. He knew you understood that, so he kept quiet. 

Are you sure?

When you told him, “I’m sure,” you weren’t lying, but your reasoning didn’t come from blind stubbornness.

This—the confrontation of everything—had been coming for a long time. Law noticed Hiriluk’s sloppy work during his first week, and you had been taking notes on Hogback’s patients years earlier. The thought crossed your mind that perhaps luck played a role—that no matter who was hired for the EP position or any other technician at Main, they would have stumbled upon this mess too. 

But as you sat there on the phone, talking about the biggest medical malpractice scandal you’ve ever heard of and worrying about retaliation, you knew better than ever that it couldn’t be anyone else. 

It was like Penguin said; it had always been you and Law. It was the patients in harm’s way, and the very fact that it felt as though your entire journey had been leading up to this.

There was a feeling of achievement in the idea, but also a sense of finality—like reaching the top of a mountain and realizing you never learned how to climb down. Maybe you’d been at the summit the whole time. Maybe you've never dared to look down at your feet before.

“I want this,” you asserted, “I want to help—to make sure no one else gets hurt.” 

You heard Law shift on the other side of the line. “Okay then, let’s do this,” he replied curtly. 

Then, there was a brief pause. You heard Law breathe in before his words hitched, getting caught in his throat. Slowly, he said your name. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked, and another static-filled silence followed his question. 

“Yes.” The word slipped past your lips before you could even think. You didn’t need to consciously decide. Your body responded automatically, just like it always did with Law. Genuine. True. 

You heard him inhale. “I’ve been working on a few things. I have my own documents. And I have some things involving you, too.” 

***

The repercussions came quickly, even before you and Law could approach anyone with the written evidence you found at Syrup. Hogback was immediately taken off his own schedule, much to his own frustration and that of a few select stakeholders who cared more about the lost revenue (or so you heard through the grapevine, which didn’t surprise anyone). According to Cindry, Hogback was limited to only seeing follow-up patients and the occasional post-op. All others were instantly removed from his schedule, along with any patient tagged “nonspecific LVT,” which was most of them. 

Saturn strongly insisted that Law be the lead on that review and wouldn’t accept anything less than the duo who saved his life. That, in itself, didn’t end the investigation. Instead, third parties had even more questions about what happened, especially since Law was going straight for the jugular and had reported both Lucci and Kalifa for trying to obstruct aid. You weren’t even certain how you could go about reporting the head of HR, but you were sure it wasn’t pretty. 

But a few things were undeniable: without you and Law, Saturn, the head of the Cardiology Department, wouldn’t still be alive; there have been three separate cases of misdiagnosis under Hogback; and the North was determined to play a game of reputation management and damage control. 

And so, attention shifted to a new victim, at least for the moment: Hogback. While things wouldn’t return to how they used to be, you were finally temporarily transferred back to Main, mainly for easier access to meetings and better visibility. Franky continued working with you, and any patients Kaya sent for imaging were scheduled for tech visits at the main hospital. 

While people far more important than you scrambled to come up with a solid plan to handle this scandal before it went public, you were back to the grind with a few restrictions. You and Law were not allowed to be alone together. No closed doors to his office. No late-night consultations, just the two of you. Any conversations you had had to be in the conference room or the pod. You were supposed to avoid speaking in the imaging office, though you assumed Franky was there as a babysitter, just in case.

You couldn’t say you were comfortable. The surprised looks on people’s faces as you watched them realize, in real time, that you weren’t fired because of an ongoing workplace affair, took some getting used to after your quiet sabbatical in Syrup. You noted each double-take, and this time, you could almost feel the rumor mill churning in your bones. 

It had weight, but not as much as you expected. Unlike the suffocating sobriety you felt when Niji was speaking to you, the chatter didn’t feel as personal — like people were talking on the other side of a fence as you passed, petty and fleeting. 

What should have been a victory also felt dull, even as you entered the conference room. To your surprise, Kuma was already there, about fifteen minutes early. You whispered a polite greeting before sliding into the chair across from him, which was meant for the Risk Management Officer, Sengoku. 

You set your oversized box on the table. It was still labeled, “Dr. Hiriluk Archive #7 - ECHOES AND TECH SHEETS.” 

You awkwardly caught Kuma’s eye from the corner of yours, offering a somewhat flustered half-smile as he stared at you kindly and attentively. 

“Sorry, am I late?” you asked, checking the time. 

Kuma shook his head. “No,” he said, watching you grab your laptop and click around for your notes, “I tend to arrive early to get settled; don’t rush on my behalf.” 

You blinked, realizing suddenly that Sengoku and Law weren’t even there yet. You glanced at the time on the corner of your computer. No wonder they weren’t here. You were surprised you had shown up so unreasonably early. Maybe your nerves were getting to you, but what was certainly not helping was now being stuck with Patient Safety. Though that wasn’t to say that Kuma himself was what made you feel—

“Nervous?” The question didn’t sound like sarcasm; it felt more like a patient teacher on the first day of school.

You looked up at the question, finally making eye contact with him for the first time since you entered the room. Kuma was a large man: broad, tall, and Samoan. But despite his size, which might have made him commanding, there was nothing intimidating about him. He had a kind face and a comforting presence, so serene that you could have easily forgotten he was sitting across from you.

“It’s okay if you are. But you don’t have to be,” Kuma continued, his voice soft and sincere. “I can’t say there’s ever been anyone who liked meeting with us.” 

His gentle tone slightly eased the tension in your shoulders, but not enough to keep your eyes off the clock. Your lips curled into a closed-mouth smile. 

“You woulda thought patient safety would be more popular,” you joked halfheartedly, a hint of life returning to your demeanor. 

“I know,” Kuma played along, leaning forward with a palm against the table, "and once you get Risk Management involved, it’s a wonder people can stay away.” 

And when he winked, it didn’t convey anything resembling flirtation, but rather looked like any father who just told a dull joke. 

But, as if on cue, you heard a pair of voices from down the hall — one definitely Law’s, and he was talking quickly. Just like that, like a shot, Law bounded around the corner with Sengoku. Sengoku practically had a hand on Law’s shoulder, grinning from ear to ear and still coming down from a laugh. And when they entered the conference room, they did so like old friends. 

They were a bomb of energy in an otherwise calm atmosphere, one that swept the room with a shockwave that could’ve blasted you into next week. Law shook Kuma’s hand before sitting next to you, with a subtly victorious expression on his face, while Sengoku couldn’t have looked more ecstatic. Sengoku greeted you by name, reaching over the table to shake your hand. You looked back at Kuma, and he met your gaze with the same questioning expression. The two of you shrugged and exchanged a handshake while Law and Sengoku settled in. 

You’d met Sengoku a few times before. While you couldn’t remember his exact title, he’d been quite high up in the administration before taking the unlikely role as a risk management officer. You figured he probably followed in Crocus’s footsteps, trying to retire before ending up back at the North. While you’d like to think you’d never do such a thing, you didn’t need much honesty to realize how badly you were lying to yourself. 

“Good to see you both,” Sengoku said, his voice all too chipper considering the nature of your meeting. 

You looked at Law for any sign of how he might have buttered up someone before arriving, but he didn’t even glance your way. His satisfied smirk barely cracked the surface of his exterior. 

“Thank you for meeting with us,” Law said, already placing physical files and his laptop on the table. “We have a lot to discuss.”

That would be an understatement. Law started by describing the misdiagnosed patients from Hiriluk, the patient you recently saw at Syrup, and what he could find out about Dr. Jaygarcia. Then, you added to his story, opening your box to show the worksheets, the clear downplaying of diagnoses and symptoms, and the patient who died. Law laid out an undeniable pattern, and you served as a witness to how long this had been happening. 

Kuma hardly had any questions, and Sengoku quietly took notes, writing down names and dates. The evidence was as clear as it was damning. 

Sengoku slid two documents toward himself across the table, turning them so he could read them. You watched him study the pages before picking them up. He held them up to his face, his eyes peering over his readers. 

“You’re telling me this patient died after being cleared here,” Sengoku said, finally lowering the document.

You nodded solemnly. “Yes,” you answered, “You can even see the notes I left, which were later disregarded. So we did catch the issue, but… it was ignored, and the patient passed not long after.”

“I also have reason to suspect that this isn’t the first time something like this has happened,” Law added, reaching into his bag to produce a large stack of files. They were bound together with a series of rubber bands. 

Law told you about these when you were on the phone. The Vinsmoke Metropolitan Academic Hospital (VMAH) was founded by Dr. Judge Vinsmoke around the same time Albert Vegapunk was gaining popularity. From what you were told, it was a small hospital that poured far too much funding into research. It wasn’t long before VMAH was dissolved and absorbed into NBUMC, which, ironically, kept its “Medical Center” title despite becoming the medical titan it is today.

What happened to VMAH wasn’t too different from what happened to a few other new practices that aimed too high. It also explains why the North had a satellite office in Germa Village, where VMAH was first established. From what you knew, Judge retired with a pretty generous amount of money, and you hadn’t heard of him working on anything since. 

VMAH was a brief experiment, one that Law had to remind you of when he first told you he gained access to the records. It made you wonder how much digging Law had to do to even discover that Hogback had worked in the diagnostic sector (V-MADS). 

Law presented a few internal audits as corroborating evidence, but as you examined his collection, you suspected that what he had didn’t even scratch the surface. Just as with the documents before, Kuma and Sengoku studied them carefully, made a few notes, and set them aside. 

You didn’t receive a satisfying conclusion, although you weren’t expecting one. Sengoku took the documents to be secured in a locked vault, like evidence in some sort of detective movie. Kuma gave you a few notices, the most important of which was to not discuss the review. The process was as clinical as you expected, but lacked the biting malice that you felt after your meeting with Lucci. 

Then, it was over, and you went your separate ways. You stood at the entrance of the conference room, watching as Kuma and Sengoku departed. A few people passed by, no doubt on their way to put out fires across the floor. 

“You look nervous,” Law’s voice came from behind you. You turned around. Law had sat back down in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest and his ankle resting over his opposite knee. “I thought it went well.”

You glanced back out into the hall. “Are we allowed to—”

“Conference room is one of the only places I’m allowed to talk to you, remember?” Law reminded you, eyeing the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that lined both sides of the conference room. “Like a zoo animal.”

“I liked the fish bowl metaphor you used the other day,” you hummed, absentmindedly toying with the open door. “Not used to your sass being taken out on someone else.”

Law let out a laugh, glancing at the ceiling. “You’re one to talk about sass.”

Despite the numerous windows, your instructions clearly stated that the door must remain open at all times. You weren’t entirely sure what that meant for patient confidentiality when discussing cases, but you had more than enough reason to question the institution’s care for patients in the first place. 

“So what was all that with Sengoku?” You moved to sit on the other side of the table, right across from Law, where Sengoku had been sitting before. 

“He knew Cora from the VA,” Law said, “I met him a few times when I was younger, when he was in operations management.” 

“Oh, so you were buttering him up.” Your brows raised. 

Law shook his head, but that arrogant smirk on his face didn’t fade. “A little shop talk.”

You nodded, glancing up at the ceiling. “So, buttering up,” you muttered, looking at the ceiling. “What kind of sneaky plot are you brewing this time?” 

Law looked at you for a moment, thoughtful. But his confident smirk had faded, replaced by a serious, somber darkness on his face. “Well, I told you what I had the most confidence in over the phone.”

“And you’ve probably come up with at least five other schemes in the meantime," you muttered.

“Schemes,” Law scoffed. “What do you take me for?” He leaned back in his chair, his hands folded in his lap. “We’re in the same boat.”

“You’re two steps ahead, that’s what you are.”

“Charmed that you think so highly of me—”

You threw him a sharp glare. 

Law frowned in turn. “I don’t want to get your hopes up.” He looked away. “I don’t like presenting something that’s half-baked,” he mumbled. 

“Well, it’s a good thing this isn’t a research case,” you sighed, sitting upright in your chair, your arms crossed on the table. “We’re doing this together, right?” You spoke in a calm, gentle tone so no one in the hallway could overhear. 

Law met your unwavering gaze for a moment, matching your intensity with his stare. He didn’t hesitate.

“We are.” He nodded. “Which is why I have a plan to make sure you’re on this review and back on my research case.”

You couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your throat, a noise somewhere between a laugh and a huff. “I mean, like I said before, even if Saturn floats the review—”

“I would actually consider that locked down,” Law cut in after what seemed to be a moment of consideration. “Congratulations,” he said with a curt, but cheeky nod. 

You looked at him with half-lidded, pouty eyes. “Even if Saturn floats the review,” you repeated, “There’s no way Lucci won’t shut that down as soon as he can, and even if I’m allowed on the review, getting back on your research is too much of a stretch.”

Law’s gaze flickered upward over your head before he slowly stood from his chair. A slight twitch appeared at the corners of his mouth. He looked back at you for a moment. 

“You want to be in on something?” he grinned, slapping his hand on the table. A mischievous glint lit up his eye as he quickly moved toward the open door. “I’ve got something for ya.”

Law stuck his head into the hallway.

“Hey!” he called, “Vinsmoke!”

Your heart twinged for a moment, and your mind immediately went to the darkest place before recalling that, out of the three you’d met, there was one good Vinsmoke. When Sanji appeared in the window next to the open glass door, you couldn’t help but look away, kicking yourself for not considering him in the first place. You took a deep breath, then exhaled. 

Sanji glanced from you to Law, whose head was turned toward you in a moment of distraction. Sanji gave him a pointed once-over, hands in his pockets, as he moved toward the doorway. 

“Yes?” Sanji spoke with a restrained tongue. Law suspected that if you weren’t there, Sanji wouldn’t have been nearly as cordial. 

“Have a minute?” Law asked, stepping to the side to gesture Sanji in. 

Sanji glanced between him and you before cautiously entering the conference room. Law closed the door behind him. 

The open door policy only applied when you and Law were alone, which you thought was extremely silly at best and absentminded at worst. Because if you truly were sleeping with half the hospital, as the rumors claimed, what was stopping you from inviting numerous people into a small space with you?

Sanji preferred to stand, positioning himself next to the head of the table while Law hovered a few steps behind the chair he had just been sitting in. As they stood there, trying to communicate with their eyes, you couldn’t help but wonder—what is it with men and not wanting to sit down? 

“I haven’t heard from you in a while,” Law said pointedly. 

Sanji’s eyes narrowed. “We’re really doing this here?”

“Didn’t realize I had to flag you down to get some updates,” Law frowned.

“Do I need to ask myself about what we’re talking about, or would the doctors in the room like to fill me in?” The corner of your mouth twitched sheepishly. It felt awkward dishing it out in front of Sanji. “Kidding,” you admitted, catching Law’s eye. “Mostly.”

You assumed that Sanji was trying to put on a good face and struggling to do so. You could see the conflict flicker across his face, and when he spoke, he did so with forced friendliness. “Did you know I was involved?” he asked as sweetly as he could manage. 

“The outline I got was rough, but I knew you were at least the one pulling files from VMADS,” you said. 

Sanji let his head hang for a brief moment as he pulled out the chair to sit in front of you. “So he told you nothing.”

“You’re just looking for a nitpick, aren't you?” Law snapped, tugging one of the chairs to the head of the table to sit somewhat between you and Sanji. 

Sanji sneered, “That’s rich coming from you.” 

He turned toward you with another calculated attempt at composure, his face now somewhat sobered. Sanji hesitated a moment before speaking. The usual glint in his eye seemed faded, dimmed by the thoughts crossing his mind. When he opened his mouth, you could hear the sharp breath he took. He sat forward, the weight of his unspoken words already filling the air. 

“You asked to be filled in,” Sanji said, and you couldn’t help but think he was using his doctor voice to ease some of the tension that was starting to fill the air. “Yes, I’ve been the one doing the VMADS pulls and… all of that.”

You didn’t blink. “And the footage.” 

Your words momentarily stole the breath from Sanji’s lungs. For a brief moment, his expression shifted into something complicated. Sadness first appeared in his eyes before it seeped down to his lips. His mouth twitched, as if even his body knew that saying he was sorry wouldn’t change anything. 

“And the footage,” he repeated, his voice apologetic and defeated. “Not because I think a video solves anything, but… it doesn’t hurt.”

“No, anything helps.” You shook your head. “Any evidence at all. If I have to hear the phrase ‘he said, she said’ one more time…” 

You weren’t even sure how your sentence would end. Part of you, for some reason, thought you’d be cut off before having to finish it. But as you looked back, you glanced up—Law and Sanji’s faces were both calm, a stark contrast to your strained, crooked smile. 

They stared at you, not quite expectantly but more like they were sitting at attention. Their eyes held something you couldn’t recognize, something similar to the hesitation of not knowing that freezes your body when someone breaks down in front of you.

You didn’t realize you were trying to make a joke until it didn’t land. 

You glanced down at the table. “I’m guessing that the files were a little easier to find?”

“Easier to access,” Sanji corrected you gently. “The VMADS—well, VMAH—database wasn’t the most reliable to start with. It’s only searchable if you know what to look for, and between the outdated electronic systems and the physical files, it’s been taking more time than I’d like.” 

Sanji pursed his lips. Despite all the criticism he gave Law, Sanji was hesitant to delve into the topic further. It almost felt like self-praise to launch into a long monologue about the timelines he checked, the sudden access barriers he had to bypass, and the hours he spent going through files.

“But I’m working on it,” Sanji tried to revive his point, which he wasn’t sure had even gotten through, “I can’t guarantee what I’m able to get, but I’m working on it. I’m just… taking the long way around.”

Your eyes drifted from the table to Sanji’s carefully clasped hands. His skin softly pressed beneath his fingertips, which rested against the backs of his hands. 

“The long way around,” you repeated softly, and the urge to apologize rose to Sanji’s lips once again. “You… You really don’t have to do this.” Only then did you glance up at his face.

Sanji tilted his head to the side, and the corners of his lips twitched upward for the first time since he sat down. The ghost of his usual, charming smile appeared before falling back into the resignation that took over him. 

“Yes, I do,” he said. He held your eyes for a moment. Sanji forced the corners of his lips up again—a gesture of reassurance. 

You frowned. “Because of me.”

The flicker of his jaw almost gave him away. “Because of them.” Sanji nodded firmly. “Because this is who they’ve always been. Because this is what the Vinsmoke family has permitted.”

“But they’re your family.” 

You suspected that Sanji held those words with the same weight you did. His face hardened a bit more. 

“Vinsmokes handle Vinsmokes,” Sanji said, leaning forward to rest his cheek in his palm, supported by the elbow against the table. “If anything—” His brows bobbed in thought. —“It almost doesn’t have anything to do with you.” 

The words should have been cold. They could have come from anyone else. But Sanji, even in the direst of situations, couldn’t completely hide that charming gleam in his blue eyes. He flashed a smile, revealing his teeth. Then, you laughed. 

It snuck up on you the way laughter sometimes did when sitting at the back of a classroom with your friends, trying—and failing—to hide how you weren’t paying attention to the more serious things at hand. 

“You’re… not even subtle about it.” You shook your head.

Sanji’s gaze shifted, sharpening into something more serious as he spoke your name. You met his stare. Because after the laughter passed, Sanji said, “I’m not doing this because you’re you. I’m doing it because they’re them.” He quickly glanced toward the hallway just outside the glass windows. “It could have been any woman in that stairwell, and I’d be doing the same, meaning that you’re not responsible for my choices.”

You looked away, still not feeling quite comforted. 

“Sure,” you agreed, leaving room for debate. “I know you don’t like them, but—”

You never thought you’d see Sanji scowl before. You didn’t think he could show any expression besides a smile or a pleasant glimmer. And when he said, “I hate them,” even his voice didn’t sound like him. “My family has only ever been good at two things: writing checks and making sure the right people stay comfortable.”

But just as quickly as his bitterness arrived, it faded.

“At least let me have an outlet for my talents,” he whispered with a wink. 

And, well, you didn’t have an argument for that. In fact, you didn’t think you could ever argue with Sanji. Maybe that was one of the reasons those few dates never worked out. 

Law had hardly shifted in his seat at the head of the table between you. His arms were coiled over his chest. “Can we get back to what you can retrieve for us?” he cut in.

You saw Sanji’s eyes narrow, as if he’d forgotten Law was there. Sanji turned to face him. 

“I’ve gotten you enough to start—”

“Which isn’t all of it,” Law muttered. You kicked his shin under the table without a second thought. Law’s gaze flickered to you. “It isn’t.”

“We don’t need everything,” you began, but the confident edge in your voice quickly softened as you shifted your focus back to Sanji. He looked thoughtful, with words hanging on his lips. “Right?” 

“Well, VMAH was so short-lived… It makes sense that the full set of files would give you the best context and leverage,” Sanji considered reluctantly. 

You frowned. “That’s still years of documents, isn’t it? In a database that’s designed so no one can find anything?” 

“I’m sure Vinsmoke can handle exerting himself a bit,” Law hummed. 

You shot him a fierce glare. 

“Well, if that’s that,” Sanji cut in with a sigh, “I’ll do what I can, when I can. But for now, I have patients to see.” 

Sanji’s mood brightened as he turned to you. “Always a pleasure to see you. You’re welcome to stop by anytime.” He stood casually, pushing his chair in. Sanji didn’t acknowledge Law as he headed for the door.

“Thank you, Sanji,” you said, with the corners of your lips slightly lifted. 

He smiled back at you from the open doorway. “Welcome back to Main.” He nodded before stepping back into the hallway, leaving the door open. 

You looked at Law. “You don’t have to be so mean to him.”

He didn’t answer immediately as he stood from his chair. You turned in yours. Law checked his watch. 

“Vinsmoke’s a big boy. I’m sure I don’t have to spare his feelings,” Law muttered absentmindedly. His golden irises flickered to meet yours. “I’ve got a meeting. Are we alright to touch base later?”

You couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your throat. Between his piercing eyes and the designer watch he still had raised, you realized you hadn’t seen Trafalgar Law the doctor in quite some time. Having been exiled to Syrup, you hadn’t had the chance. 

“You want to circle back?” You leaned back in your seat, eyebrows slightly raised. 

Law shook his head. “Sure,” he said. The slight, reluctant frown on his face probably could only be accurately measured with calipers. “We’ll circle back sooner rather than later.” 

***

You started seeing more patients. 

The first one was normal. The second was more nervous than they wanted to show. The third had complimented you on the shorter-than-usual wait time. You held back the urge to reply, “Well, that’s what happens when there’s more than just me here.”

It took some adjustment, but being back at your home base helped you relax somewhat despite the workload. The probes felt more natural in your hands. The gel warmer was reliable. You built up years of muscle memory and fell into it by the time you were halfway through your second patient of the morning.

Between you and Franky, there were never more than three patients waiting at a time, and given the pace you were moving, you usually kept that number to one or two. Franky watched from his desk as you shuffled papers, swapped documents, and arranged pages into rough piles before moving on to the next patient. He pivoted, facing you even as you moved around the room. Then, he spoke your name. 

You nearly do a double-take, glancing over your shoulder as you hum in acknowledgment. 

“You… seem to be back in the groove of things,” Franky said cautiously. 

You turned back to the computer, clicked a few things on the screen, then tapped your badge. 

“Well, it is nice to have actual patients again,” you mused, though your words couldn’t exactly have been mistaken as anything resembling cheerful. You turned to face Franky. An awkward silence filled the room. “Syrup was too quiet.”

It felt like something had shifted in the air, and not just in the room, but throughout Main. The feeling of foreignness welled inside your chest, tucking itself in a discrete corner of your ribcage. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a vacation, but you imagined this was how returning would feel—slow, somewhat off your game, and just slightly out of place. 

Franky had reorganized some of the supply closets. The outdated—though not as outdated as Syrup’s—equipment took a few moments of mental effort to readjust to. The keyboard was larger, and the mouse was more sensitive. But none of those things were what made you so unsettled. 

You were waiting, and working with your hands only helped pass the time. 

And so, you waited, staying busy and helping patients through the afternoon. You figured it would be at least until the end of the week before you heard anything about the board, let alone Law’s research. Being added to the review board seemed just as unlikely as it seemed probable, and you thought Law floating the idea of you rejoining his research was his way of taking a mile when given an inch. 

Considering how long the investigation has been ongoing without any update, you probably couldn’t expect a change anytime soon. Who knows how long it’ll be with you at Main. Maybe you’ll be sent back to Syrup…

Your phone screen lit up, winking at you from your desk. You backed up, craning your neck to catch the subject line of an email. 

“Effective Immediately: IRB Amendment Approved for Review Board—Add Personnel…” followed by your name and employee ID number. 

Whatever you were holding found a new home on your desk as you grabbed your phone and entered your passcode to read the full message. 

“After careful consideration, the Institutional Review Board has reviewed and APPROVED Amendment #2 to Protocol #64710, effective immediately,” the message stated. “This amendment authorizes the addition of… to the study team in the role of Imaging Adjudicator/Data Annotation (Role Limited). Approved scope of work and conditions are listed as follows…”

You couldn’t help the way your heart pounded in your chest. A sharp palpation pierced through you, flipping through a flurry of emotions as if your ribs were a Rolodex. Beats of anxiety that stole your breath fluttered by, then picked up into rapid pounding. 

You didn’t say anything to Franky on your way out the door. No, you were saving your words, holding them in your mouth the entire way across the floor. Your tunnel vision caused you to nearly bump into a few people along your path. You spoke your apologies a bit too loudly and moved a bit too quickly, leading yourself all the way to Law’s hall. 

He was just stepping out of a room when you appeared at the far end of the hall. The way you caught his gaze was by chance, and Law's double-take made his eyes sparkle, even from the distance you were at. 

You didn’t say anything as you stood there, phone still in your hand with the email glowing brightly. You could feel the goofy grin on your face and the giddiness tingling through your skin. The corners of Law’s lips barely moved, offering you a subtle smile of acknowledgment, his head bowing slightly as he ducked into another exam room. 

Your insides blazed as your mind raced, zipping through preparation plans and schedule coordination. You’d need to bulk up your inventory to handle the number of patients you’d be seeing. You’d need to revisit Law’s research patient to refresh your memory of the case. The conference was in less than a month, and the gears in your brain began to churn, like this email was the exact spark you needed to wake back up.

There were so many things to think about that you didn’t even think about what Law must’ve said to pull this off. But that didn’t matter, not when there were twenty-eight days left until the conference. 

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 Chapter XIV Chapter XV Chapter XVI Chapter XVII

Tag List: @aveocadeo @augustanna @starzbrii @sporkslol @r3nstar @chillerkiller @weepingjudgediplomatbasketb-blog @notbleachtea @yunloyal @valval08 @qui-sap @vilemint @all-mights-wife @breakingthebank13 @lipstick-stains-and-coffee-rings @starchild-unnamed @sin-namonroll

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

Notes: I’ve been lagging hard. While I’ve had the ending plotted out for quite a while, it’s been difficult to get through scenes. Would saying “godspeed” be too on the nose?

[aveocadeo]

It’s been a while everyone. I had been taking an unannounced hiatus because of uni and the lack of energy and motivation to write.

It’s not like I have lost the interest to write, but it’s been a lot lately with personal stuff and uni, so I’ll try to get some work done throughout the upcoming weeks! <3

I apologise for the long wait for those who have been sending me requests! I’ll try my best.

Much love.

[aveocadeo]

Seamless. [Trafalgar Law & daughter/son! reader]

The Heart Pirates are fighting against your crew outside of your hometown, but when the unknown fact that you are Trafalgar Law's daughter revealed itself, nobody knew what to do.

tags: trafalgar law, daughter/son! reader, gn! reader, separate pirate crews, angst with bittersweet ending, medical devil fruit user! reader.

a/n: another shoutout to @chillerkiller and their post talking about this idea! thank you! (was working on smut, but i needed a break, so angst here we go)

ave's corner of masterlist

The sea outside your hometown had always been a mouth. It swallowed ships and spat out wreckage. It gnawed on docks until the wood remembered the shape of water.

But today, it tasted like iron.

Salt wind snapped at your coat like it wanted to peel you open. Your crew, your people, moved with the kind of practiced urgency that came from surviving long enough to stop being surprised by violence.

The deck beneath your boots trembled with cannon recoil, shouted orders and the low animal growl of a ship that was bracing itself against impact.

Across the churning water was a sleek submarine that breached like a dark thought surfacing. Someone beside you swore. "Heart Pirates", your first mate hissed while tightening their hand around the rail.

"No mistake," they said, but you didn't answer. You didn't need to.

You knew that jolly roger. The smiling heart that pierced cleanly through and you knew the man who commanded it, even if you had never seen him up close.

Trafalgar D. Water Law. Surgeon of Death.

Your needle felt heavier in your hands.

It shouldn't. It was an extension of you by now. It was your weapon, your threat, your promise. It was a massive sewing needle that was forged and reinforced long enough to pin a man to a mast if you threw it right.

The thread coiled at your hip wasn't thread seen in the innocent sense. It was wire-thin and cruel. The thread was capable of cutting flesh when pulled taut. It was also capable of binding limbs when you wanted someone alive.

Your devil fruit hummed under your skin like a second heartbeat. It's name was the Stitch-Stich Fruit. Your mother had called it that while laughing weakly through a cough the day you came home with blood on your sleeve and the power trembling in your palms.

It was a medical fruit. You couldn't forget the way she said it. It was with a reverence that sounded like prayer and fear twisted together.

You stared at the submarine as it cut the water and you felt the old memory like a bruise you kept pressing. The last time you heard the name Heart Pirates out loud was from your mother's mouth.

And then she had turned away as if the words burned her tongue.

The clash didn't wait for you to be ready. It never did.

A smaller vessel peeled away from the submarine. It was fast, sharp and predatory. Heart Pirates spilled onto it like ink with familiar silhouettes carrying unfamiliar intent.

Bepo at the front since it wasn't impossible to ignore his big build. Shachi and Penguin was flanking. Others you recognised from wanted posters and rumours. And then there was him.

A man in a long coat with his sword strapped to his back as he stepped onto the prow like he owned the horizon.

Even from here, you could feel the way the atmosphere shifted around him. The way your crew's voices tightened. Your pulse stuttered when he lifted his hand.

A translucent sphere bloomed and the world in front of you became a surgical theater. "Brace!" someone yelled but it was too late to brace for reality rearranging itself.

A chunk of your railing vanished as it was sliced clean as paper. A cannon split into pieces without ever falling. The air shivered with invisible cuts.

You snarled and threw your needle. It should have been impossible. Too far. Too fast.

But your Devil Fruit answered your anger like a loyal blade. The needle arced and stopped midair. It was caught by an unseen seam you had drawn across the space between you and him.

You tugged and the air was stitching. A line appeared faintly and stretched from your hand to the edge of his ROOM. Space buckled where the seam bit into it, resisting his control the way a wound resisted being opened again.

Law's head snapped up.

For the first time, his eyes locked on you. Steel-grey, flat and focused. That was the gaze of someone who had cut through bodies and lives alike.

You lifted your chin in challenge. He didn't look impressed, but rather interested. Your first mate swore again, but it was louder this time. "Captain-"

"I've got it," you said, though your teeth gritted around the words. Your shoulder ached with the strain of holding the seam against his power. "Keep them off our sides."

Your crew surged into motion. Everyone could hear blades meeting each other and bullets screamed across the ends.

Law stepped forward, slow as inevitability. He drew his sword, which made your fingers tighten around your thread. You felt the faint tremor of fear in your own bones.

It wasn't because he was stronger.

It was because something inside you whispered to you faintly, yet strongly:

He had your mother's eyes when he was angry.

You moved first. Your needle lashed out as it was pulled by the invisible sutures you casted like lines in a web. It darted toward his shoulder.

And he shambled.

The needle hit empty air. You cursed and whipped the thread in a wide arc. It cut a shimmering crescent across the deck, slicing clean through a crate, a coil of rope and the edge of a mast. A Heart Pirate ducked with a yelp, missing decapitation by inches.

Law appeared behind you. Cold air brushed the back of your neck.

Your power snapping into place like a stitch pulled tight. Without touching him, you casted a suture across the space he occupied.

The seam caught his coat and for a heartbeat, he was pinned. He wasn't immobile, but rather tethered like a fish hooked through the lip.

His eyes narrowed. "So it's you," he said with voice low.

You twisted as the needle was ready to drive into him if he moved wrong. "Don't talk like you know me."

"I don't," he replied. "But I know that power."

Your stomach dropped, sharp and sudden. He couldn't. No one should... No one except...

A shout interrupted you. Bepo slammed into one of your crewmates, sending both skidding. Someone fired while someone screamed.

Law's ROOM expanded as it was swallowing the chaos in a pale blue glow. He turned his head, barking an order at his crew without looking away from you.

The way he multitasked in battle was terrifyingly clinical which you hated. You hated him for being calm.

"You came here looking for a fight," you spat out.

"No," he said as his gaze flicked to the shoreline. It was your hometown in the distance, clustered like secrets. "I came looking for information."

"Then leave."

"That depends," he said.

On what? The question rose to your tongue, but you swallowed it. You didn't want to talk as talking gave him space to carve into you with words instead of blades.

You lunged forward and your needle met his sword with a shriek of metal. The impact rattled your bones. Law didn't flinch.

"Your technique," he said, almost conversational, as you struggle against his strength. "It's medical and precise."

"Shut up."

"You're self-taught," he continued like he was reading your anatomy by touch. "But someone trained your instincts."

Rage was flooding into you and it was hot enough to scald. "My mother is dead," you snapped and for a second, your voice broke on the last word like glass.

Something flickered in his eyes. It wasn't sympathy. Not yet.

It was recognition. And that, more than anything, made you want to split the world open.

You yanked your thread and the seam that tethered his coat tightened. The fabric strained as it was dragging him half a step off balance.

It was the opening you needed. You casted three sutures at once: One to bind his ankle, one to tug his wrist and one to cinch around the hilt of his sword.

It was a puppeteer's maneuver.

Your crew had seen you do it a hundred times. They called it 'The Marionette stitch'.

Law reacted instantly, but he was rather irritated than panicked. His ROOM pulsed. You were in the space and he decided that was the perfect chance to do 'Counter Shock' to push you away.

Electricity crackled through the air and your muscles seized. Your hands spasmed, which made your thread slacken for a fraction of a second.

That was all he needed.

Law shambled again and suddenly he wasn't in your web. He was in front of you with his sword raised. The tip was aimed at your chest. It was a warning.

"Enough," he said. Your heart hammered.

Your crew around you were still fighting. They were probably too caught in their own skirmishes to see how the center of the storm had narrowed to the two of you.

You lifted your needle, breath ragged. "Not until you're off our waters."

Law's gaze cut over you like a scalpel. Then, very softly he said: "Tell me your name."

You blinked in slight confusion. "What?"

"Your name," he repeated. "Full."

That was absurd to you. In the middle of violence, blood and sea spray, he wanted-

Your laugh was brittle. "Why? So you can put it on a report?"

His jaw tightened. "So I can confirm something."

Your skin prickled. There was something inside you, something old and inherited, that went still. You could lie, because you have lied before. Names were safety. Names were cages. Names were bait.

Yet your mother had taught you one thing with a seriousness that haunted you:

"Never lie when you're cornered by someone who knows how to cut the truth out of you."

So you raised your chin and gave him the blade of it. Your mouth spilled out your full name. It sounded strong, even with your crew yelling your title over the wind.

Law's eyes widened. The world seemed to pause, suspended like a needle before it pierced cloth. "... Say it again," he whispered.

Your stomach turned. You said your name again like a confession you never wanted to make. It was loud enough to carry it to his ears. "Are you satisfied now?"

There was silence.

It wasn't across the whole battlefield that had roaring cannons and steel that still met steel. It was in the space between you and him as everything went quiet as a grave.

Law stared at you like you had just opened him. Like you had just exposed something he kept stitched shut for years.

"No," he said and it wasn't an answer to your question so much as a refusal to accept reality. "That's not-"

His throat bobbed. Then, like it costed him blood to say, he breathed out: "... What is your mother's name?"

Your hands went cold.

You hated him for asking you that. You hated him for sounding like he already knew.

You gripped your needle so hard, your knuckled got pale. "That's none of your business."

His voice dropped. "Answer me."

His command in it was quiet like the kind that made bodies obey even when minds resisted.

Your chest ached. You decided to spit the truth like poison and told him your dead mother's name.

That was when Law went still with a long and terrible beat of silence. Then his eyelids lowered and when he opened them again, his gaze looked... older.

Not softer. Not kinder.

Just older.

"Call off your crew," he said and his voice was hoarse in a way that made your throat tighten. "Now."

Your pulse thundered. "Are you insane?"

"Call. Them. Off."

It was something in the way he said it that made your instincts scream that he wasn't there to threaten you now.

He was trying to keep something from happening.

You swallowed with hesitation for a bit, but then whistled sharp and high. It was the signal your crew knew meant 'withdraw to defensive positions'.

Your first mate hesitated as they were staring at you like you had just lost your mind. You whistled again, this time furiously.

Reluctantly, your crew began to pull back with blades still up and heavy breaths. The Heart Pirates hesitated too as they were thrown off by their captain's sudden stillness.

Bepo's ears flattened while Shachi and Penguin exchanged a look. "What's going on?" someone muttered in the crowd.

You stood facing Trafalgar Law with the sea wind tearing at your hair, and you felt like you were standing on the edge of a wound that was about to reopen.

Law's voice was barely audible. "She's dead," he said, but you didn't answer him back. You just couldn't.

He shakily inhaled and for the first time you saw the crack in him. It was grief.

"She left," he murmured with eyes fixed somewhere past you. It was as if the past was a map he kept unfolding. "After... after I said things I can't take back."

Your mouth twisted. "Congratulations, you're human," you said with slight despise.

His gaze snapped back at you. He looked both offended and pained. "I didn't know."

The words were simple, but they hit like a cannonball. You blinked hard. "Didn't know what?"

Law's jaw worked like he was chewing glass. "About you," he finally said. The air between you turned heavy. You let out a laugh that sounded nothing like joy. "You expect me to believe that?"

"I didn't know she was pregnant," he confessed and the admission looked like it physically hurt him. "She disappeared. I searched and I-"

"You left her," you snapped. "You made her leave."

His shoulders tensed. "Maybe," he said. "But I didn't abandon a child. I never-"

"You did anyway," you cut in and your voice was shaking. "She got sick. She died. And I buried her with my own hands."

Law's eyes flick to your needle, to your thread and the faint scars on your fingers. It was the calluses of someone who had sutured wounds that shouldn't have been survivable.

Then his gaze lifted back to your face. "You ate a medical Devil Fruit," he said. It sounded more like a statement than a question.

"A year before she died," you said and your throat tightened by the mere memory of it. "I thought I could fix it. I thought if I learned fast enough, stitched hard enough, prayed hard enough-"

Your voice broke. You hated yourself for letting it come through.

"I can suture anything," you whispered as anger and despair twisted together the longer your mind replayed these memories. "Anything but what was eating her from the inside."

Law's face went white around the edges like he was trying not to fall apart in front of enemies.

His hand tightened around his sword. "So you took to the sea," he said slowly. "You built a crew."

"Like she did," you replied with a pained voice. "Because she refused to die quietly, because she refused to crawl back to you."

Hie eyes flinched.

A flinch was nothing, but at the same time it was still something.

For a moment, you weren't two captains on opposite decks.

You were two survivors standing over the same grave. The sea kept roaring indifferently. Law's voice was rough. "Why fight us?"

You stared at him incredulous. "You attacked first."

"I came to investigate what has been said around islands," he said and something like frustration bleed into his tone. "A captain near this coast with a Devil Fruit who manipulated sutures without touch. I thought," he was saying till you cut him off with a bitter laugh.

"You thought what? That she came back to haunt you?" you said

He didn't answer which was an answer that made your chest ache. "You don't get to dredge her up," you said quietly. "You don't get to show up here and make her name a weapon."

Law's gaze dropped for half a second. Then he said something you didn't expect.

"I didn't come to hurt you."

You scoffed at his comment. "You're pointing a sword at me."

"I point swords at a lot of things," he said, his voice hollow. "It doesn't always mean I want them dead."

Your fingers tightened on your needle. The battle around you was stalling as both crews were unsure about the next step. It was like the ocean caught between tides.

You could feel your crew's eyes on you, waiting for you to decide whether this ended in blood or retreat. You swallowed.

"Tell me," you said sharply, "What would you have done if you had known?"

Law's jaw flexed again and he looked at you for a long time. The truth was chokeholding him, whether to let him answer with honesty or lie through his teeth.

"I don't know," he admitted.

The answer hit harder than any lie, because it meant he wasn't claiming he would have been a hero. It meant he was admitting he might had failed anyway.

Your throat tightened. "She didn't want you."

Law's eyes flashed. "That's not-"

"She loved you," you cut in in a trembling tone. "And she hated you. She carried both like they were organs she wouldn't remove," you said as the last part sounded more like a mumble.

Law's shoulders was rising and falling in a slow breath. Then he said, "She deserved better."

"Yes," you thought viciously. She did deserve better.

"You're not her," Law continued and the words were both a comfort and an accusation. "You don't have to inherit all of this."

You sent him a glare. "You don't get to tell me what I inherit."

That sentence cut the air into silence. Law just nodded once. Then, so softly you almost missed it, he said:

"... I'm sorry."

The apology sat between you like a fragile stitch. A single thread trying to hold together something too torn.

You didn't forgive him. You didn't know how.

But something in your chest trembles anyway, because an apology meant he wasn't a monster. It meant he was a man. And men are harder to hate cleanly.

Your first mate approached you cautiously while they're trying to keep distance from Law's sword. "Captain...?"

You didn't look away from Law. "Pull back," you ordered your crew. "All hands. We're leaving."

Your first mate just stared at you in surprise. "What?"

"Now," you snapped. They had to obey their captain, so your crew retreated with gritted teeth while hauling the wounded back.

The Heart Pirates didn't pursue while it happened. They just watched in confusion as tension was clouding them. They were waiting for their captain to say something.

Law didn't move. His sword remained raised, but the tip was no longer aimed at your heart.

It was pointed downward as if it was a man who was tired to keep threatening the world.

You stepped back slowly with the needle still in your grip. The distance between you got bigger. "You're letting us go?" you asked with suspicion biting every word after getting to a safe distance between you two.

Law's gaze flicked to the shoreline again and looked at your hometown, then back to you. "Your mother," he said and the name tasted like something mourned.

"She left because she didn't want you caught in my life."

Your lips pressed together. He continued. "If I drag you into it now... I make her sacrifice meaningless."

Anger flared in you brightly and immediately. "She didn't sacrifice herself for you," you said with your open hand clenched into anger.

His gaze hardened. "No. She sacrificed herself for you."

The words hit something in you that had been raw for years. Your throat tightened again. You looked away first, because if you kept staring at him, you might do something stupid.

You would probably believe he was capable of loving you. Or like admit you wanted to be loved.

You turned to your crew, signaling the final disengage. You and your crew began to sail, pulling away from the stalled battlefield. The ocean between you and the Heart Pirates churned resentfully.

You should had been victorious, but you somehow felt hollow.

You glanced back once. Law was still standing on the deck of the approaching ship with his coat snapping in the wind like a torn flag. His crew had gathered behind him, uncertain and with whispers.

Law didn't shout after you. He didn't command you. He didn't chase.

He just watched with eyes narrowed like he was trying to stitch your silhouette into memory. As your ship gained distance, his voice carried over the water. It was barely audible but somehow reaching you anyway.

"If you ever need-"

He stopped and swallowed. Then he tried again and the words came out like they were painful. "If you ever need medical help... or information... you can find me."

You let out a short and dry laugh. You weren't surprised that he framed it like a transaction.

Like something manageable. Like he couldn't offer you what you actually needed.

A father.

You called back anyway, because you hated silence more than you hated him. "And what do I call you?" you shouted across the sea. "Captain? Surgeon? Stranger?"

For a moment, he looked like he might not answer. Then he said it loud enough to carry, yet stripped bare of title and threat:

"Law."

Just his name. Just a man.

You swallowed hard as your hands were trembling around your needle. You wanted to ask a thousand questions. You wanted to scream and cry.

You wanted to reach across the water and stitch the past closed, even though you knew stitches didn't erase scars. They just kept you from bleeding out.

Instead, you lifted your needle once, in a gesture that wasn't quite a salute, nor a goodbye.

Law's gaze dropped to it... Your weapon, your inheritance, your proof of survival.

Then he lifted his hand with two fingers to the brim of his hat. It was a small, wordless acknowledgment.

Not forgiveness. Not reconciliation. Just recognition.

You turned away before your eyes could betray you. Your crew's ship cut through the waves as it was heading back toward the mouth of your hometown's sea. Where your mother once stood, staring at the horizon as if she could will the past into a different shape.

You breathed in salt and breathed out grief.

Behind you remained Trafalgar Law on the waterline like a scar you couldn't stop touching.

The scar wasn't healed. It was just there.

And somewhere deep in your chest, beneath rage and sorrow, was something thin and stubborn that threaded itself into place:

A single stitch holding out for now.

@/2026 ave

[aveocadeo]

Hi! You’re such a good writer, and I really enjoy your fics!! I’m offering a little bit of unsolicited advice here, but hopefully the little tidbit will help you become an even greater writer! :)

I noticed when you write dialogue, you put the ending punctuation on the outside of the quotation marks. For example:

With confidence, he said, “Good”. OR “Hello”, he said.

The punctuation always goes inside of the quotations. For example:

With confidence, he said, “Good.” OR “Hello,” he said.

I understand this advice is unsolicited, so I understand if you ignore it. I also hope that I’m not irritating you with it. Like I said, I truly enjoy your writing, and correcting the small error would only make something good better, I think.

Thank you for sharing your writing with everyone!

Helloooo! I'm really happy that you enjoy reading my fics hehe. Thank you for the advice as well! It's a habit I have had since high school, but I will take the advice and correct the punctuation for the future fics!

I appreciate it a lot when people like you come to offer advice in a respectful way. Since English isn't my first language, it helps me to be better.

Much love!

[wing-ed-thing]

God Spelled Backwards is D-O-C-T-O-R (Trafalgar Law x Reader, Chapter XVI)

Synopsis: Dr. Trafalgar Law is the brilliant, cold, new electrophysiologist fresh out of residency with something to prove. He wasted no time in singling you out as you battle his unyielding demands and an overbooked schedule with non-existent back up. Your dynamic goes beyond professional tension, and in a hospital where boundaries are protocol, and protocol is gold, it’s an all out fight for power and control.

Word Count: 8.5k

Tags/Warnings: Minors DNI, CardiacElectrophysiologist!Law, EchoTech!Reader, AFABFEM!Reader, Modern Hospital AU, Language, Enemies to Lovers, Character Death, Victim-Blaming, Assault Investigation, Medical Emergency, Hospital Treatment, Institutional Medical Malpractice

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 Chapter XIV Chapter XV Chapter XVI

Notes: I know I said Chapter XI was the climax but THIS is a climax

When the door slammed open and Law stomped up the stairs, Rocinante shot up from the couch.

“Law?” He called from the bottom banister, only to be met with the slamming of the door upstairs.

Rocinante stopped at the banister, one hand on the old, wooden railing as he stared up. He heaved a sigh and slowly stepped up the stairs. The panels creaked under his step, narrating his ascent to the second floor. Rocinante had always been a little too tall for their house, ducking to avoid bumping his head as he reached the top. 

He still had a somewhat slouched posture as he stood outside Law’s door, knocking.

Silence.

Rocinante knocked again.

“Go away.”

“I’m coming in,” Rocinante announced, turning the handle.

Law’s room didn’t look too dissimilar from the very room Rocinante had grown up in. When he inherited the house after his parents passed, Rocinante had considered himself far too grown to be living in his old childhood room. And when he began living in the bedroom that once belonged to his parents, he found that the house was far too large for him to live there alone.

Law already had the first aid kit strewn across the bed. He had the back of a metal spoon pressed against the area just below his eye. His other hand fumbled with a Band-Aid, trying to peel the wrapper off. 

Rocinante took in the sight and sighed. He took two long strides into the room and knelt in front of where Law sat. He plucked the Band-Aid from Law’s fingers and examined the bleeding scrape on Law’s knee. The abrasion had already been cleaned.

Rocinante shook his head. 

This kid…

“What’s with the spoon?” He asked, peeling the paper wings off the Band-Aid. 

“To help with the swelling,” Law grumbled, tilting his head back. “I heard it makes hickies go away, so maybe it’ll help with the bruise.”

Rocinante frowned, reaching for a few more bandages. “You’re too young to be talking about hickies.” 

“It’s what all the older kids are talking about,” Law muttered.

“Who’d’ja get into a fight with today?” Even sitting back on his heels, Rocinante was still about eye level with Law. 

Law glanced away. “Nobody.”

“Nobody, huh?” Rocinante grasped Law’s jaw with one hand, swiveling his head to take a look at the bruise under the spoon, despite Law’s continued protests. “Well, nobody got a pretty good lick in there.” 

“I didn’t get into a fight. I got pushed and knocked into a banister,” Law snapped, swatting Rocinante’s hand away. “I know we’re a passafist household,” Law spoke the word mockingly, gesturing with a roll of his eyes and heavy air quotes. “Even though you’re the one who’s knocked guys on their asses for the government like a narc.”

Rocinante eyed Law for a moment with a frown.

“I’m not sure I like these older kids you’ve been hangin’ around.” 

“Spoken like a narc.”

“Do you even know what a narc is?” Rocinante shook his head. “Never mind. What happened?”

“Nothing,” Law groaned. 

A heavy knock sounded at the door. Both Law and Rocinante glanced toward it instinctively, then slowly turned back toward each other. Law’s eyes widened a fraction.

“I don’t know who it is,” he said quickly. 

“Well, it isn’t nobody, now is it?” Rocinante shot back. The knock sounded again, heavier and louder this time. “You have to tell me what you did.”

“Cora!”

“Law, I need to know what you did and who I’m about to answer the door to.” 

“Okay, okay, I beat up the blond kid with the stupid haircut,” Law admitted. “But for the record, he didn’t get a hit! He used a cheap move and—”

Rocinante buried his face in his hands, shaking his head as he stood. The knocking continued in the background, a steady pounding. “Great, so Morgan’s the one pounding down my door. Great, just great.”

He ducked into the hallway and jogged down the stairs. 

Law scrambled after him, yelling from the top of the steps, “Bring your gun!”

“I’m not bringing—” Rocinante began to say, then stopped at the lower landing, sputtering his words. His face scrunched in exasperation as the words finally sank in. He paused for a moment before shaking his head. This kid.

“Coming! Coming!” Rocinante announced, unlatching the deadbolt and opening the door. “Mr. Morgan!” he greeted with a wide smile, gesturing with his hands in a welcoming manner. 

Morgan stood on the front porch, arms crossed and a severe look on his face. He was a tall man, though Rocinante was far taller. But what Morgan lacked in height, he made up for in toned muscle, though even that looked more decorative than anything else. 

“Good afternoon, sir. I’m sure you know why I’m here,” Morgan gruffed, glancing down to give Helmeppo a rough pat on the back, forcing him a step forward. “That stray you’ve taken in jumped my boy.”

The kid looked rough, his pale skin marred by bruises. His lip was almost as puffy and swollen as his left eye. A bit of dried blood crusted around his nose.

Morgan gestured vaguely up the stairs. “Tell the boy to get out here. We want an apology.” 

The corners of Rocinante’s lips twitched slightly downward, but he said nothing to Morgan, keeping his eyes on him as he turned slightly to yell into the house. “Law.” 

No answer. 

Rocinante tapped on the door frame. 

“Law, get down here,” he called. “Don’t make me ask again.”

Step by step, Law tentatively descended the stairs, his skinny figure slinking in the shadow of the banister before he appeared behind Rocinante like an apparition. 

“I’m not apologizing,” he muttered. 

Rocinante turned, speaking quietly, “Hate to break it to ya’, but you don’t really have a choice when you beat someone up on the way back from school, kid.” 

Law cast his eyes downward. Just as Rocinante was about to pull him through the doorway to apologize, Law grumbled, “… He kept telling Koala that Mr. Tiger was a predator for adopting her because she’s white and he’s not… That it was wrong.” 

Rocinante froze, his lips poised to speak as he turned his head back toward Morgan. 

“Let’s not drag this out, Corazon,” Morgan said before Rocinante could. “We just want a simple apology.” 

“I understand, and I definitely think we need to have a longer conversation about what led up to this—maybe with the school present,” Rocinante offered, striking a polite smile. “This isn’t something we can settle in thirty seconds on a doorstep.”

Morgan stared Rocinante down, his eyes narrowed and his jaw locked. He squared his shoulders back as he took a step closer to Rocinante. Rocinante stepped farther in front of Law, pulling him back by the scruff of his shirt.

“I understand that’s probably not what you wanted to hear—”

“You’re really standing for this?” Morgan growled, jabbing a finger at Rocinante’s chest. “Of all people, I thought you’d be sensible enough to discipline that brat you’ve been keeping here.” 

“And I’ll be parenting in my own way, but we’re not going to get anywhere now.” Rocinante’s face turned stern, his eyelids flickering by a millimeter. The rest of his posture remained consistent, relaxed, and somewhat hunched despite Morgan’s squared shoulders. Rocinante offered a curt nod. “Let me reach out to the school and Mr. Tiger. We’ll get this sorted out together.”

Morgan scoffed. “Tiger? You want to parade this around the neighborhood? Make it some kinda statement? Just make your boy apologize, and we’re done here.” 

Morgan’s eyes flicked from Law back to Rocinante. He scoffed again, shaking his head. “You know, I expected more from you,” he grunted, meeting Rocinante’s icy blue eyes. “Maybe discipline’s harder when it’s not really your kid, huh?”

His polite expression melted away instantly, his body going rigid. A dark, irritated flicker crossed Rocinante’s gaze. Morgan didn’t tear his gaze away, chin tilted upward with smug  

“Law, go back upstairs.”

“Cora—”

“Back upstairs, Law.” Rocinante’s voice was stern and level. “Tell yours to take a walk, Morgan.”

Rocinante didn’t take his eyes off Morgan’s for a second. As soon as Law stepped back from the door, Rocinante swung it shut behind him and stepped out onto the patio with Morgan. 

He spoke in such a hushed tone that Law could barely hear him from the other side of the door. Law grabbed the inside handle, slowly inching it back to peer outside. 

“—Make myself perfectly clear. You parent your son however you want, and I’ll parent mine, but don’t ever, ever make the mistake of coming to my door and calling him anything less than my kid again,” Rocinante hissed. “Especially not in front of him like that. Maybe you should be asking yourself what you’ve been teaching yours if he’s saying things like that to other children. Now, get off my porch.”

Morgan let out a boisterous laugh. “Tiger thinks he’s making some kind of statement with that poor girl—”

“I’m not going to ask you again.”

“It’s not natural, Corazon. You know it’s not. That innocent child deserves to be with her own kind, not raised by a—”

Rocinante’s fist flew across Morgan’s face before he could even finish, sending Morgan stumbling back. He nearly fell down the porch steps, his hand instinctively reaching for the railing.

“You don't talk like that here! Not in front of my son. Not anywhere near my home!” Rocinante shouted in a voice Law had never heard before. It was more than stern — it was righteous fury, a burning anger that turned Rocinante’s normally gentle voice into something fierce. “Get the hell off my property!”

Morgan took a step toward Rocinante, his elbow cocked, but Rocinante was faster. His fist collided with Morgan's jaw before he could finish—hard, mean, with his entire body weight behind the blow. Morgan tumbled down the stairs, and a heavily bruised Helmeppo scrambled out of the way, swiftly taking off down the street. 

“Leave! You show your face here again, you'll be leaving in an ambulance.” Rocinante stepped down the porch stairs as Morgan scrambled on the walkway. “Out!”

Law was sure Morgan would’ve spat more poison if he could, but with his jaw locked awkwardly, Law considered it would be a while before Morgan could speak. Blood smeared over Morgan’s pale skin, and his usually neat, slicked-back blond hair was plastered to his forehead. 

Law stepped fully onto the porch by the time Morgan fled through the chain-link gate. Rocinante watched him, standing in the middle of the walkway in the small, fenced-in front yard. 

Rocinante’s chest rose and fell as he breathed off the adrenaline. He planted his hands on his hips, finally heaving a heavy sigh. Rocinante tilted his head back, his eyes closed, facing the sky. 

Law stood silently on the porch, watching Rocinante tentatively. When Rocinante turned around and began stalking back toward the house, Law froze. 

Rocinante walked past him, grabbing the door that had been left ajar and holding it open. He gestured for Law to enter, a sober expression on his face. “Inside,” he said. 

Law silently complied, and Rocinante closed the door behind them with a sigh. 

“Fighting’s wrong,” Rocinante said curtly, walking through the living room to the kitchen. “Don’t put your hands on people if words can do the trick.”

Law followed with light footsteps, appearing halfway in the doorframe. 

Rocinante had a tray of cookies on top of the stove and a spatula in his hand. One by one, he scooped the cookies onto the cooking rack.

“Grab a Tupperware from the cabinet,” Rocinante commanded softly, and Law did as he was told without another word. 

He stood next to Rocinante, gazing up at his pensive face. Rocinante always wore his emotions on his face, much to his own chagrin. Law could’ve sworn he saw Rocinante’s thoughts dart across his eyes, as if his irises were so light they let you see back into his brain. 

“What Helmeppo said… What his dad said…” Law spoke tentatively. He watched Rocinante wrap up the rest of the cookie dough in the bowl on the counter. “That was a word,” he said.

“A bad word, never say it,” Rocinante snapped, opening the fridge to shove the bowl onto a random shelf. 

“I know it’s a bad word,” Law shot back, turning to step toward Rocinante. “That’s why I did it. I did exactly what you did.” 

Law seethed, heat rising to his skin as he clenched his teeth. 

For a moment, Rocinante didn’t say a word. He held Law’s gaze, and Law could see the thoughts in Rocinante’s head like fish flickering across the surface of a pond. Fins brushing the surface. Ripples on stillness. 

“I thought we could have these after dinner, but instead, we’re taking them to Koala and Mr. Fisher.” Rocinante handed Law the Tupperware of cookies. “That will be your punishment.” 

Rocinante turned to head back through the quint living room and to the front door. Law scrambled after him. 

“Why the hell am I being punished when you did the exact same thing I did?” Law argued, reaching the door just as Rocinante put on his jacket. 

“That is not what I taught you.” Rocinante tossed Law a random jacket, which Law barely caught with his free hand. “I said to use your words.”

“I did,” Law insisted, slipping on his shoes. “He didn’t stop.”

“So you walk away,” Rocinante bit out, holding the door open for Law before closing it behind the two of them once more. 

Law waited for him to lock the door, a deep scowl on his face. “You never walk away,” Law muttered. “You didn’t walk away just now.”

Rocinante’s key stopped in the lock.

“That’s different,” he said, pocketing his keychain before making short work of the porch steps. 

“How?” Law demanded, following behind. “How is it different when you do it?”

Rocinante dragged a hand down his face, blue eyes cast toward the cloudy sky. “Because I’m old enough to know I’m screwing up when I lose my temper. You’re a kid. You’re supposed to be better than me.” 

The two continued down the street, passing houses that sat too close together, their paint chipped. The road didn’t have a sidewalk, just trampled grass that’d been leveled from years of people passing by. 

“Besides,” Rocinante added, “he was on our property.”

“So, if someone’s on our property—”

“Don’t undermine my lesson, you brat.” Rocinante gave Law a swift swat on the back of the head. 

Law scowled. 

“Why does everyone call me a brat?” he grumbled. “Helmeppo’s dad called me a brat, too, but at least he called you sir.” Law rolled his eyes. 

“Well, stop being a brat, and maybe you’ll be called sir too,” Rocinante said. “Sir’s not for kids. You earn that one.” 

Law hugged the container of cookies closer to his chest, mulling over the word. 

Sir. 

It sounded heavier in his head than brat ever did. 

Rocinante stopped suddenly just outside Fisher Tiger’s residence. Law, who hadn’t been paying much attention to his surroundings, crashed into Rocinante’s back. But just as he poised himself to complain, Rocinante spoke. 

“You’re not getting cookies today because fighting’s wrong,” Rocinante explained. “I gotta get that into your little stubborn head, at least.” He unlatched the gate. “You start with words. You use your fists only when you’ve got no other choice and you’re protecting someone who can’t fight back. And if it really matters?” 

Rocinante and Law reached Fisher Tiger’s front step. Rocinante turned, a serious look in his eyes as he met Law’s gaze. “If you decide that the only way you can do the right thing is to get yourself involved, then you act, and you be smart about it. And use that head of yours and not just your fists all the time.” 

Rocinante nodded definitively, the slight upward turn returning to his lips. Law continued to stare. 

Law frowned. “So who were you protecting?”

The acute smile on Rocinante’s face immediately faded. He placed two hands on Law’s shoulders, turning him to face the door before knocking loudly.

“Shush,” Rocinante scolded. “Your little ears from things you shouldn’t be hearing.”

***

You couldn’t sleep the night before you were set to meet with Law. You had no clue why you were restless. The meeting wasn’t even about the investigation, but given the circumstances, you couldn’t help but feel that this patient discussion resembled a test more than anything else. 

Saturn wasn’t someone who intimidated you, and HR’s presence was more stuffy than anything. But it was the sheer scrutiny that made you nervous. 

You wondered what could be used against you as evidence. If your eyes lingered a fraction too long on each other. If you spoke to him with too much familiarity. 

It made you think about what Penguin said, and suddenly, the jacket that hung at the entrance to your apartment felt more present. 

It pained you to admit how much you stewed in your thoughts, falling asleep at an unreasonable hour only to wake up far too early, with all the wiring in the world. That was how you found yourself at Syrup before the time you’d typically wake up. 

You put extra effort into making yourself presentable for your meeting later (well, as much effort as you could into smoothing out your scrub top). But for now, with your face clean and your body semi-caffeinated, you decided to make a dent in the records room you’d accidentally destroyed. 

You’d gone through the effort of securing the cabinets this time. It seemed someone had deliberately left the security hardware at the bottom of one of the fallen file cabinets. You’d exerted some hard labor earlier that week, working with Kaya during her downtime to discard items where you could so you could start reorganizing. 

Facilities removed most of the broken shelving, and you put up the rest in a configuration that made sense to you. If it weren’t for the fallen papers and the askew files, perhaps the room would’ve looked more like an office. 

You sat on the floor, sorting through the mess. You’d emptied a few boxes to begin sorting things chronologically, starting at the edge of the pile you’d made in the middle of the room and working your way inward. 

You sorted what appeared to be the easiest first, clearing books out of the way to create a separate stack in the corner of the room. You’d arrange them alphabetically later. Then there were meticulously labeled binders, already numbered by volume. Soon, anything in the established collection was removed from the mass. 

You studied the label on one of the empty boxes. 

“Dr. Hiriluk Archive #7 - ECHOES AND TECH SHEETS,” it read. Ink smudged across the year, distorting the writing into a useless cloud. 

You scanned the collection on the floor, swearing you’d just seen several files that belonged in this box. Your eyes skimmed the scattered pages, searching for keywords, until you spotted a familiar set of handwriting. 

You fished a sheet of paper out by the corner, pulling it from beneath a few others. 

“Moderate AS, mean gradient ~35, consider earlier surgical evaluation,” the line read in your handwriting. 

More pages fell from the paperclip pinned at the corner, which you collected from the floor. Hogback had signed the final report.

“Mild AS,” he’d written, “No need for further intervention at this time.”

His signature appeared at the bottom of the page. 

You frowned. These files must’ve been clipped together by accident. You set it aside, reaching back down for the real report. 

The page beneath the report was another Hogback report.

“Likely benign exertional symptoms; routine follow-up,” it read.

No, this wasn’t it either. You flipped to the back of the packet, wondering whether this pile hadn’t been clipped correctly. Your handwriting greeted you again. “Patient symptomatic, near-syncope, possible HCM?” 

You pulled your tech paper from the stack and compared the patient identification sticker to the name listed on the report. The name matched, but…

You placed the report with the previous one as you scoured the pile again.

Your name caught your attention.

“—tends to ‘overcall’ complex pathology. Please remind techs that final interpretation is MD’s. Limit impression language,” lectured a message from Hogback to Wapol. 

“Spoke with Hogback re: imaging notes—” stated a memo from Van Auger, the quality manager. “Says she’s overstepping with overly alarming impression language, which may confuse patients and referrers. Prioritize balanced interpretations. Patients get anxious, and it reflects poorly on our service.”

You grasped more pages.

“RVUs/Revenue Estimates” was the heading on the spreadsheet, listing patient identification numbers, imaging findings, and type of insurance. “Referring prefers ‘borderline’—don’t push surgery too fast,” a margin note read, with a line pointing to a patient’s name. 

“Patient adamant about concerns about surgery; recommended additional follow-ups for a ‘moderate’ condition instead,” stated the report attached to the sheet. 

“—excellent technically, but keeps adding ‘cannot exclude’/‘consider advanced imaging’ language. We’re seeing pushback from some referrers. Patients come to me alarmed by dramatic language,” Hogback wrote in an email dated around a few weeks after you started.

“We may need to coach her on staying in her lane,” Wapol replied. “Given her age and educational timeline, I did not expect her to have this level of prior knowledge.”

You began collecting everything in the box, your heart racing as you read word after word. 

“Concern for noncompaction vs. other cardiomyopathies. Recommend MRI + EP?” you’d written, only for Hogback to counter, “Non-specific LVH, no high-risk features. Routine follow-up.” 

But it was what was written on the page behind it that made your blood run cold. Your heart stopped at the words “Morbidity & Mortality (M&M) Conference Summary.” You paused for a moment, blinking twice as you flipped between the pages. Your original exam and the summary were dated less than a year apart.

“Pt collapsed outside gym. Sudden cardiac death,” it read, and you couldn’t read the rest. 

The rest of the letters blurred as you reread the notes. A sobering darkness enveloped your chest, then pounded at your heart like a gong. You leaned forward, curling in on yourself as you held the paper to your face. 

Non-specific LVH? What does that even mean?

What good would a routine follow-up be for a disease that can kill you in the middle of a workout?

Then you remembered. You remembered exactly who this patient was. 

You didn’t quite remember what you'd spoken about or even the day you'd tested him, but you did remember his name. You remembered how he laughed at your dumb jokes—your way of coping with your nerves. How he had a kid your age. His youngest. 

For a moment, you zoned out, teetering between confusion, sadness, and anger. 

He was right there… right on your monitor. You didn’t have nearly the experience you have now, but you wrote the right thing even then. You said the right thing. He could’ve gotten treatment, but…

The page crumpled in your hand, a large crease appearing in the center as you stood and threw the paper down into the box. Reluctant tears pooled on your water line. These weren’t mistakes. You noted the severity, and Hogback’s notes downplayed the condition. For what? For more scheduled visits? For more money? So he’d have more time to devote to more lucrative endeavors? You held your head back, hands planted firmly on your hips, just as the sun began to rise. 

***

It wasn’t as simple as meeting with him to discuss a patient. It couldn’t be, not with HR involved. You were sure it would’ve been quicker to report to Law’s pod and discuss it with him before clinic started. Or what would’ve been even more efficient would have been Law coming to Syrup to see the loops on the cart. 

But no, not only did Rob Lucci have to be involved, but a discussion with Kalifa Awe and Dr. Saturn had to take place beforehand. All crammed into Saturn’s office for a quick conversation about a referred patient. 

From what you’d heard, there’d been quite the fight about it all. The question of why this couldn’t have been an email wasn’t foreign to the corporate world, but after a few rounds of less-than-amused written fisticuffs, all five of you gathered in Saturn’s office. 

Two leather-clad chairs sat in front of Saturn’s desk. Kalifa sat in one, and the other remained vacant. Law and Lucci, who’d arrived before you did, stood at opposite corners of the small office, neither daring to take a seat for fear their masculinity would burst into flames the moment they touched the chair.

You could spy Law, who was closest to the door from down the hall. You were scrambling, trying to attach your badge in the right place, calves burning as you mustered your best power walk. (As reluctant as you were to give him credit, working with Law easily doubled your pace.) You had no idea why you had to make the trek to the far corner of the floor to meet in Saturn’s office specifically, but from the little things Law had mentioned offhandedly at dinner, it didn’t sound like Saturn left his office much these days. 

You glanced down at your phone, clearing out a few notifications. A few emails. Random promotional texts. Da Fibrillation Nation lovingly placed on mute. A snap from Franky, who’d recently discovered Snapchat. Apparently, traffic from Water 7 to Main was killer. 

You double-checked that your phone was on Do Not Disturb before you took a deep breath and entered Saturn’s office. 

He greeted you by name as you entered, a slight breeze trailing behind you. 

“Good morning,” you muttered, wavering between the open door and the empty chair. 

No one replied, all eyes quietly watching you. Your gaze flickered to Law’s, and if you’d known him any less intimately, you might’ve mistaken his expression for indifference. At worst, you considered it a barely restrained contempt. But you knew better. You saw the way his eyes softened just slightly around the edges, the disdain for the situation making way for you in silent acknowledgment before you tore your gaze away.

You performed an awkward shuffle, quickly taking the seat next to Kalifa in an unconscious attempt to minimize yourself.

“Glad we can all make it here,” Saturn heaved a sigh. A strangled, grumbling sound reverberated in his throat.

Law closed the door. The office felt claustrophobic, with five people crammed inside. You wondered whether Saturn felt the same way. You could already see sweat beading on his temple. 

“For the record,”Saturn continued after a brief pause, “this meeting is a supervised exception in the context of the ongoing investigation. Dr. Sirop asked you to discuss a shared patient. I approved the request on-site, with HR and Legal present. That’s what we’re doing. Nothing more. You will discuss only this patient, understood?” 

Law nodded. 

Saturn gestured forward. 

Part of you hadn’t considered the logistics. Kalifa didn’t move to stand, keeping her legs crossed and balancing the laptop on her knee as her sharp eyes narrowed toward you. You heard Lucci and Law shuffling behind you as they seemed to switch places, with Law appearing somewhere behind you.

“Sixty-five-year-old male. Hypertension, exertional dyspnea. Long history here—originally under Hiriluk, then Hogback, and Dr. Sirop has been overseeing annuals and general observation.” Law clicked away at his laptop, opening a few floating notes around the chart. “After his last echo at Syrup, he was flagged for asymmetric wall thickening. Possible noncompaction.”

In English, a patient with high blood pressure who experiences shortness of breath during physical activity. In this case, the septum is thicker than in other regions. Possibly a structural issue, based on other comments you likely left out of your note, hence the meeting. 

You barely heard Lucci scoff behind you. “If there was already a note, then why—?”

Saturn offered Law a curt nod before turning to you. “A summary of what you saw, please.”

You sat up a little bit taller in your seat. 

“The septum was slightly asymmetric. As Dr. Trafalgar mentioned, I made a note, but it wasn’t just thickness. There were deep recesses with color flow on the apical views. The wall looked spongy in some planes, but more solid in others. It didn’t behave like simple hypertensive hypertrophy.” 

In English, I wasn’t just concerned about the septum thickening. The natural “ridges” inside the ventricles appear more pronounced than normal. These views suggest a deeper issue, though from some angles it looks like ordinary thick muscle. Definitely not just high blood pressure. 

You felt an overbearing sense of sheepishness, as if you were back in school, giving a presentation to a group of professors. This sanctified discussion didn’t feel like a conversation between you and Law at all. It felt like a thesis defense. It had the energy of one, at least. 

Lucci frowned from where he stood near the door, finally speaking up. “And you decided not to include this in your notes… why?” he asked. 

“I did,” you shot back without turning to look at him. “I noted the asymmetric wall thickening and didn’t want to overstep in my notation. Dr. Sirop requested this meeting because she didn’t think the comment was enough.” 

Any more would have brought you under more scrutiny anyway.

“The previous visit summaries call it ‘probably hypertensive LVH,’” Law said, not looking up from his screen. “Another inconsistency from Hiriluk. There’s a notation from Hogback from about five years ago noting nonsustained VT. This patient has had repeated near-syncopal episodes that have been dismissed as ‘likely vasovagal.’ If we’re looking at noncompaction, his treatment plan has been catastrophically off course for years.” 

In English, Hiriluk's previous visits described his condition as left ventricular thickening due to high blood pressure, and Hogback noted that it was a rhythm problem that would resolve on its own. Every time he nearly passed out, it was called a harmless fainting spell. If this is a structural problem, we’ve been caring for him incorrectly for years. 

The same as the patient you flagged all those years ago.

You froze, instinctively turning to look at Law, words poised on your tongue. You met his gaze, noticing the minute scrunch of his brow he carried in lieu of a verbal question. You closed your mouth, suddenly wishing nothing more than for the meeting to be over. 

“We’re not here to criticize prior clinicians,” Kalifa glanced up from her screen. “We’re here to oversee this discussion and define the scope of your contact.”

“And a great use of our time at that,” Law frowned. “You moved this from a quick discussion we could have had before clinic even started to a fishbowl so you could supervise us breathing the same air. So let’s not spare feelings here when facts are involved.” 

The corner of your mouth twitched, holding back the smirk that threatened to land you in a world of trouble. When you really thought about it, perhaps Law hadn’t changed much at all. You couldn’t deny you took great enjoyment in seeing someone else on the receiving end of his sharp tongue. 

“Would you agree that noncompaction is the concern?” Saturn glanced toward Law. You watched as his thick brow furrowed. Saturn's hand slowly trailed to his computer mouse. 

“It’s high on the list,” Law said with a nod. “Given what was reported and his symptoms, yes. If it’s true noncompaction, we need to intervene right away.” 

“If that’s the excuse you came up with to circumvent this investigation, then I must say you’re sorely mistaken.” Lucci stepped forward, arms crossed. 

Law didn’t move even as Lucci moved closer. Law’s jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing. You were almost excited. That same insufferable attitude… fighting for something. The way he’s always been.

“I couldn’t care less about the investigation. If I’m right about this patient, then his risk for ventricular arrhythmias and sudden death is significantly higher than his chart reflects.” Law pivoted, facing Lucci head-on. 

“Plain language is preferred, doctor.” 

“He might have a heart that is structured in a way that makes dangerous rhythms much more likely. Perhaps hypertension. Perhaps something else. Treating him like a routine hypertensive patient isn’t safe.” 

Saturn stared down at his desk, appearing lost in thought. He shifted, then stilled again. One hand settled against his upper abdomen before sliding higher to his chest. “And prior care… Do you believe it was… insufficient?” 

Law wasn’t even looking at him, still engaged in his passive-aggressive face-off with Lucci. 

“I think things were missed,” Law said, his voice professional. “There were many things Hiriluk should’ve done, especially when the Holter showed nonsustained VT. Hogback should’ve questioned why the patient kept nearly passing out on exertion. It’s a good thing this was caught before something serious happened.” 

Plastic clinked against plastic as Saturn suddenly rolled his chair back. Law’s head immediately snapped toward the sound. 

Saturn looked as if he were about to stand, but he froze mid-motion. His hand flew to the middle of his chest, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt. Color drained from his face. 

“Dr. Jaygarcia?” You were already standing, your eyes flickering from Saturn’s hand to the shimmer of sweat at his hairline as you moved to stand. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, but his words came out on a breath. Saturn slid his chair forward to reach for his water. “Just a bit of indigestion.” He took the glass in his shaky hands, took a sip, then scrunched his face into a wince. “We can… wrap up here—”

Law appeared on the other side of the desk, taking the trembling cup from Saturn’s hands and placing it back on the desk. 

“Nope, we’re done,” Law said. 

You watched the action in slow motion, the way time used to stretch in childhood games when the ball arced toward you, growing larger and larger, and there was nothing to do but wait for impact. 

Saturn’s hand on his chest. 

The way he fell from his seat, hitting the floor hard. 

Your body was already moving before you could even register the loud bang of the chair slamming into the wall. “Dr. Jaygarcia!”

Law was already kneeling next to Saturn. “Call a code,” he snapped without looking up. “Now.”

You lunged for the phone. Your fingers hit the emergency button. You took the phone as far as the cord would reach as you swung the office door open, reporting the room number. You could still see Law behind the desk, his fingers on Saturn’s carotid and his other hand on Saturn’s sternum. 

“Crash cart!” you announced, blurting the thought aloud before darting forward to drop the phone on the desk before bolting down the hall. 

Kalifa had scrambled to the opposite side of the room amid the chaos, standing like a pinned butterfly, as if a mouse had scurried across the carpet. Lucci hovered, an earnestly confused expression on his face—as if he knew he should be doing something but didn’t know what. 

“Weak pulse, irregular,” Law muttered to himself. 

He barked your name just as you returned, steering the cart from the front while the random nurse you’d flagged down pushed from the back. 

“I’m here!” You moved to Saturn’s other side, sliding his legs straight before loosening his tie with your fingers. “Code team’s en route.”

“Get him flat, head turned,” Law ordered. “I want pads on anterior-posterior.” 

Kalifa hovered on the other side of the desk, frozen. “We… We need someone else,” she stammered. Kalifa shook her head and adjusted her glasses. “Given the investigation, Dr. Trafalgar—”

“I’m the doctor in the room,” he cut her off sternly, without snapping. “If you’d like me to explain things to the board later, we can handle that later—I need pads now! He can drop any second.”

The nurse had already torn open the defib pads. You worked quickly to assist, silently making room for the nurse. Law took the monitor leads, eyes on the rhythm as it scrolled across the screen.

“Monomorphic VT, rate about one-eighty.” Law’s eyes darted to yours. “He’s not tolerating this. If his pressure tanks—” 

“I’ve got him,” you said, turning your attention back to Saturn. “Pads on.”

“Ready,” the nurse called. 

“Charge to two hundred,” Law ordered. “He’s still got a pulse, but barely. We’re cardioverting.”

“Charging.”

“Dr. Trafalgar—” Lucci attempted to interject.

“Either help or get out of the way,” Law barked. The absolute authority in his voice put an end to any further protests. Lucci and Kalifa stepped back, flattening themselves against the filing cabinets. 

“On three,” Law said, locking eyes with you once. “Ready?”

You breathed in, the old rhythm you’d long established taking your muscles over. “Ready.”

“One,” Law said, glancing around the room. “Two.”

His thumb hovered over the button.

“Three. Everyone clear.”

The jolt lifted Saturn’s chest off the floor. His body arched, then slammed back down. The office filled with the smell of ozone. The monitor’s readings transformed from jagged, wide complexes into long, flat beats before fading into a slow rhythm. 

“Check,” Law said.

Your fingers were already at Saturn’s pulse. “Slow, but stronger,” you nodded in reply. 

The door hit the adjacent wall as the code team flooded in. A resident in a half-buttoned white coat was the first on the scene, followed by a few pairs of hands, two of whom moved the desk to the other side of the office. But as they were taking the desk away, something on Saturn’s monitor caught your eye. 

“What’ve we got?” the resident asked. 

“Something I’ll be handling,” Law was quick to hold up his badge before letting it snap back into place. “We’ve cardioverted once. We need IV access, fluids, and amiodarone on standby in case this starts to go south.”

The resident opened his mouth to object, but did a double-take at Law’s badge. “Oh,” he said, his lips forming a round, O-shape. “You’re EP.” 

“Dr. Trafalgar,” Law corrected, crouching next to Saturn. A stretcher appeared next to him. “Don’t just stand there. We need to get him moving.”

The resident, with a few extra hands, gathered around Saturn, whom they rolled just enough to wedge a sheet under. Then, on a count, they hauled him in one heavy movement onto a waiting gurney.

“Law,” you called from across the small office. Law’s head snapped toward the sound of his name. It had a familiar snap to it, coming from your lips. You stood by the desk, the monitor turned. “Come look at this.”

Law approached the monitor. A chart appeared on the screen, riddled with colored categories and medical text. Saturn’s name was bolded at the top. Law quickly flicked through the history. Regular visits dated back years, originally with Hiriluk and then with Hogback. 

A note from three months ago was already pulled from Hogback. Hypertension. Vasovagal episodes with exertion. Unhelpful Hoster notes. 

A note from Hiriluk, dated a few years prior to that visit: nonsustained VT. EP recommendation. 

Law’s posture stiffened. 

“At least he tried to make it easy for us,” he muttered. “Our discussion hit closer than we thought.”

“Dr. Trafalgar, we’re taking him over!” the resident called from the hall, where Saturn’s gurney waited.

“Right behind you,” he answered, tearing his gaze from the computer screen. “Stabilize, then up to CCU. Order a troponin panel and basic labs; get him on continuous monitoring; and put in a stat cardiology and EP consult—my name on both. Once he’s there…” Law turned to you, gesturing with his head. “C’mon, I’ll need you. When we’ve got him ready, first echo’s yours.”

“I can’t let that happen,” Lucci chimed in, encroaching on the office once more now that it’d been mostly cleared out. He frowned, his eyes severe and a scowl on his lips. It appeared the chaos hadn’t softened his insistence. “Responding to an incident in front of you is one thing, but having both of you involved in the rest of the process is absolutely unnecessary.”

Law glowered, glancing from Lucci to the hallway. He stepped forward, but Lucci moved to the side, blocking his path. 

“He could die,” Law barked. “I’m not dealing with this shit during a code. Get out of my way before I make you.”

Kalifa tried to address you, perhaps to reach a conclusion more quickly. 

“You can step back now,” she said. “We have other—”

“She’s staying, and that’s final,” Law pushed past Lucci into the hallway. He’d lost precious seconds lagging behind. He could feel every lost moment in his bones, as if time were burrowing through his marrow. “File whatever paperwork makes you feel like a man, Lucci. I’ve got a life to save.”

Law stormed out into the hall. You followed closely behind Law, unimpeded by Lucci. 

You couldn’t help but muse to yourself as you did.

With lines like that, Law fit in well here.

He floated through the hall like a dark shadow, the ends of his white coat rippling in the wake of his rapid pace. He hurried through the corridor toward the elevators, with you hot on his heels.

“I want imaging as soon as he’s stabilized,” he said in the same voice he used when he was focused and arrogantly demanding. You didn’t realize it was one you’d missed.

“I’ll be up with my cart. We need to talk after this because—” You moved to diverge from Law’s path down an adjacent hall. From there, you could map your way back to your old office and pinpoint, down to the second, how long it’d take you to reach CCU (Coronary Care Unit). 

But just as you were about to disappear down the rabbit hole of your own thoughts, Law caught your sleeve. You stopped, a half step down the hall, as you pivoted to face him. His fingers slowly released their grip on you as he met your gaze. The corner of his lips twitched upward.

“Tell me all about it later,” he breathed, taking a step backward toward the elevators. “Good to work with you again.”

You couldn’t help the goofy, giddy smile that took over your face. You pointed toward him without even looking where you were going. “Just remember to sign the orders, baby doc.” 

Law scoffed, and you could see the impulse to argue flicker across his eyes. “Hurry back,” he said before disappearing down the hall. 

***

When you got up to the CCU, Saturn was already in a monitored bed, pale, and on oxygen. Telemetry showed a slower-than-normal heartbeat and extra ones, too. In other words, sinus brady with PVCs. 

Bodies filled the area around Saturn’s bed: the nurse at the bedside, managing lines, meds, and vitals; Law on the other side focused on rhythms as he spoke with the resident and Dr. Crocus, the CCU attending, both at the foot of the bed. 

Crocus and the resident stepped aside to let you and your cart in.

—“We’ll keep the fluids going. And I want a 12-lead now and prep for a bedside echo. He’s gotten aspirin and labs, right?” Law asked, his eyes monitoring the heart rhythm. 

“Bolus running, first troponin and basic panel are sent,” the resident replied. “BP 88 over 52. MAP’s climbing with fluids.”

Law glanced up at you as you entered, then at Dr. Crocus.

“It’s a good thing she’s here,” Law told him, clearing a path as you pulled your cart in. “She’s our best echo tech, and she wasn’t even supposed to be here.” 

Crocus acknowledged you by name with a curt nod. He was well acquainted with your work. He much preferred it when you took over after Wapol disappeared. 

“I’m familiar,” Crocus said. “We were fortunate that both of you were where you were this morning.”

Law turned to you, his eyes dragging over the cart, the monitor, and then Saturn. “I want a stat study to look for structural disease, wall motion, thrombus… give me the works. Anything that explains this VT.”

“You’re getting the works,” you hummed, already running through your mental checklist. “You know I don’t miss.” “No, you don’t.” 

You lowered the bed rail. You glanced at the monitor and IV lines before adjusting Saturn’s head to a slight incline. 

“Dr. Jaygarcia? It’s me—” You spoke your name as you watched Saturn blink slowly. “I’m going to do a quick ultrasound of your heart.”

Saturn let out a weak exhale in response. 

You spread gel on the head of your probe, roping the cord around the back of your shoulders as you leaned toward Saturn. Your awkward-looking but tried-and-true grip let you pull his gown aside before you could properly hold the probe. 

“It might be a little cold,” you said. 

Within seconds of the gel touching his chest, you were already in the left parasternal window. You began gliding through the minute ticks of your wrist, pumping the foot pedal as you quickly collected loops and saved frames without lifting the probe. 

Law stepped to the other side of the bed to speak to the nurse, keeping the monitor and the echo screen in view. “Keep an eye on his pressure. If he starts dropping again, I need to know before it hits 80 systolic,” you heard him say.

He didn’t hover over you—not like he used to. Law’s gaze was watchful, confident. But perhaps all his months of breathing down your neck and critiquing you prepared you for this moment—your highest-stakes echo of your career. With the department head under your probe, cardiology’s most senior doctor and Trafalgar Law, the Wonder Doc, present, you knew you couldn’t afford to buckle under pressure. 

You didn’t. 

“Can you freeze that?” Law asked. Not commanded. “Let’s get measurements—”

You didn’t need a prompt. You were already capturing clips and measurements as he spoke.

— “LV size, septal thickness…”

“Already done,” you cut in softly. “Working on septal thickness… and it’s in. It’s not just hypertensive thick… and the LV cavity looks a little small for the wall thickness.”

You swept to the parasternal short-axis papillary muscle level, then to the apex. 

“Slow sweep to apex,” Law said, moving a few steps to his left to get a better view of the monitor. “I want to see whether those trabeculations look like what you saw in Kaya’s patient.”

You made short work of the request. You changed the angle and adjusted the gain. The image of exactly what Law asked for filled your screen. 

“This is exactly what she was describing in the case we were just discussing this morning,” Law said to Crocus. “This odd noncompaction-like pattern.”

“Deep recesses… Color shows flow in and out,” you filled in, your focus never wavering from your probe. You moved to the apical four-chamber view. “LV function is a bit down. Not severe, but definitely not the greatest. Doing a specific sweep, there’s no obvious apical thrombus on these views.” 

You pivoted, already anticipating Law’s train of thought. You ran through scan after scan like that. Law needed to say less than a word, and if you weren’t reading his mind, your probe certainly was. 

“RV looks alright; TR’s mild.”

“Any regional wall motion abnormalities? Anything that makes you think ischemia?”

“Global looks a bit hypokinetic, but no obvious focal wall motion defect,” you answered. “Nothing like a single-vessel territory.” 

Law turned back to Crocus. “So we’re likely dealing with an underlying cardiomyopathy pattern—possibly a noncompaction phenotype, with reduced reserve. I also looked at his Holter history, and it aligns. It’s enough to explain malignant VT.”

Or, in English, these scans appear consistent with noncompaction (which we suspected and were just discussing), but we haven’t fully confirmed it. The heart can still pump, but there’s less margin to tolerate stress. The underlying structural issues we see, along with historical data from Saturn’s rhythm monitoring device, are enough to explain why he’s now experiencing life-threateningly fast heart rhythms. 

They stood for a few moments as Law rattled off his plan. Crocus nodded, asking a question every so often but never correcting. From what you gathered as you wrapped up your imaging, Law intended to put Saturn through every test under the sun. 

Meanwhile, you cleaned up. You wiped Saturn’s chest and placed his gown back in place. Then, you sorted through your loops. 

“Can you upload those clips and flag them as STAT for my review and MRI planning?” Crocus asked you. 

“They’re labeled and saved already.” You nodded in acknowledgment before returning to your screen. “I’ll annotate the key loops.”

“Don’t leave anything out of those notes,” Law said. “Everything you see, I want in there. You’ve been right twice now. If anyone complains about it they can answer to me.” 

Saturn lay quietly on his best, eyes glued to the echo monitor. 

Law seemed to notice at the same time as you. You pushed your cart a little farther into the corner, no longer needing to be directly near Saturn. You allowed Law to take your place, pulling a chair up to the bedside as you continued typing your notes. 

“Dr. Jaygarcia,” Law said. 

Saturn’s lips parted slightly. He wet them a few times before his voice croaked from his throat. “Dr. Trafalgar,” he muttered. 

“You had a serious arrhythmia,” Law reported in the same voice all doctors use when delivering bad news. “We converted you—you’re stable. But based on the imaging, you’re not going home without a comprehensive workup and a device discussion. We’re getting down to this. We’re going to do everything we can to prevent this from happening again.”

Saturn’s jaw moved, flexing as if he were smacking his lips. His hoarse voice remained in his chest as his gaze flickered once more toward your screen. 

Law stood, glancing over at you as you saved the last frame. 

“But not just for him,” he said, just audibly. Just for you. 

You turned to meet his gaze. 

“We’ll need your eyes on all of these,” Law continued, looking just past you for a moment before returning to your face. “Every one of these borderline ‘LVH’ cases, all the ones where the symptoms were changed—every one of them gets pulled, re-imaged, and re-read. I know it’s a high volume, but—”

“Done,” you blurted without even thinking. 

But you didn’t have to think. Not for this. Because it wasn’t a baseless demand. This was a responsibility he was taking upon himself to help people.

You began to pull your cart away, making your exit. Law walked you to the door as Crocus and the resident exchanged words at the bedside. He held the curtain open as you pushed your equipment through. 

You glanced down, your voice barely audible. “I have more,” you said, “We’ll talk later.”

Law nodded, and you went your separate ways. 

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

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 Chapter XIV Chapter XV Chapter XVI

Glossary for Nerds

Tag List: @aveocadeo @augustanna @starzbrii @sporkslol @r3nstar @chillerkiller @weepingjudgediplomatbasketb-blog @notbleachtea @yunloyal @valval08 @qui-sap @vilemint @all-mights-wife @breakingthebank13 @lipstick-stains-and-coffee-rings @starchild-unnamed @sin-namonroll

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

Notes: I’m projecting that we have 2-3 more chapters left. But it’s me so who knows

[aveocadeo]

MY FAVOURITE SHOW GOT A NEW EPISODEEEE (I devoured that so quickly)

[aveocadeo]

3:24 am thoughts

Holy shit, being back and writing ideas and requests have been making me love this vacation, so there will be more updates throughout the week and next week! I think I have like 3 drafts atm and I should lowkey update the other series that I haven't been finishing.

Again, thank you for the support! Good night <3

[aveocadeo]

hi ave!! if you feel comfortabke with it(and if don't i totally get it) could you write a little fic with a character of your choice where reader gets pregnant and either they or the character don't want to keep the baby?

personally i can imagine law not wanting a baby, but i think it would CRUSH sanji if reader didn't want to keep it

a/n: I am definitely comfortable to write your request! I'm happy you wanted to send me a request, so I hope you'll enjoy this fic! (I wrote it with a mix of what I also would think their reactions would be) (I also ended up writing three fics oop-)

Them and pregnancy. [One Piece x f! reader]

What happens when they find out that you are pregnant?

tags: one piece characters (separate blogs) x f! reader, pregnant! reader, finding out pregnancy, law x reader, franky x reader (another blog), sanji x reader (another blog), slight angst and fluff.

ave's corner of masterlist | [trafalgar law] [franky] [vinsmoke sanji]

i. Trafalgar Law [Anatomy of staying]

It started as a delay. It wasn't dramatic, nor cinematic. It was just a quiet, stubborn delay that clung to you like sea salt on skin.

You told yourself it was stress. Maybe because of travel. The way the Polar Tang kept its own sense of time with days blurring into nights with the hum of the engine and the soft footsteps in hallways you had learned by heart.

You told yourself you had been tired before. You had been nauseous before. You had been off-kilter before.

But then you woke up one morning and the smell of coffee, bitter and dark, turned your stomach so violently you had to slap a hand over your mouth and stumble to the bathroom before the bile climbed up your throat.

When you came back out pale and shaken, he stood there leaned against the doorway of his office with his arms crossed. He was watching you with that stillness he wore like armor.

Trafalgar Law didn't ask 'Are you okay?' in the same way other people did. He just asked: "How long?"

You blinked at his question. "How long what?"

His eyes flicked, just once, down to your abdomen like he hated himself for looking. "How long have you felt sick?" he asked quietly and sharply.

You swallowed as you felt your throat tighten just by looking at him. "A couple weeks", you said.

Law pushed off the doorframe. The movement was controlled like he was afraid moving too fast would snap something in the air between you. "Sit down", he told you which made you to hesitate.

It shouldn't be terrifying, those words. You had heard them a hundred times: After a mission, after a cut that needed stitches or after you took a bad fall in rough seas.

'Sit down' was practically his love language, but this time? Your heart lurched like it knew.

"I'm fine", you lied automatically. Law's mouth tightened. It was a line drawn with all the things he didn't let himself say. He reached out and touched your wrist with two fingers, not to restrain you but to anchor you. "You're not", he said.

It wasn't an accusation. It was just a fact. Surgeon's truth.

He guided you to the chair in his office. The one you always stole when you were bored and wanted to watch him work. He moved around you with the practiced efficiency that had saved lives. That had cut people open and stitched them back together. That had made him infamous and exhausted and impossible.

He was already pulling a small kit from a drawer before you had even settled. You stared at it as dread was pooling slow and cold in your stomach. "Law...", you said weakly.

His hand paused on the latch. He looked at you properly and you saw it. It was something raw behind the calculation.

"Tell me the truth", he said.

You didn't even know when you started trembling. "I... I'm late".

The silence hit like a wave. Law didn't speak for a long second. He just breathed in through his nose, shallow and controlled. It was like he was holding the world still by sheer force of will.

Then he opened his mouth. "How late?"

You whispered the number and his eyes shuttered.

He opened the kit with hands that didn't shake. Of course they didn't, because Law's hands didn't shake when he was cutting into someone's chest. They didn't shake when the world was screaming.

But you noticed that his jaw flexed once as he reached for what he needed. He didn't say pregnancy test out loud. He didn't have to.

You took it with numb fingers like you were taking a weapon. Law just turned away. It wasn't out of politeness, because you knew he had seen everything the human body could do. He did it out of something softer. He gave you the privacy anyway.

You did it and the waiting was agony.

You stared at the little window like it might change its mind. When the result appeared, it was immediate. Certain. Unmistakable.

Your breath caught itself and your hands went cold. You didn't know what expression you made when you looked up, but Law knew.

He turned. One glance and his face shifted so subtly most people would miss it, but you had learned the language of him. The way his eyebrows drew together when he was counting risks and the way his eyes darkened when he was trying to keep himself from feeling too much at once.

He came closer slowly like he was now approaching something fragile. He took the test from you and stared at it as if it was a diagnosis carved in ink.

For a moment, you almost expected him to say something clinical. A list of symptoms. A timeline. Options, methods or odds.

Instead, his voice came out low and roughened by something you had never heard there before. "... Are you sure it's mine?"

The question wasn't cruel. It wasn't mistrust. It was fear.

Your chest tightened painfully. "Law".

He blinked once like it costed him to blink.

"I know it's a stupid question", he said immediately, biting the words off as soon as they existed. "I know, I-", he said and exhaled sharply. It was a rare crack in his composure. "I need to know what variables I'm dealing with".

You laughed once, broken and wet at the edges. "It's yours".

Law's gaze dropped again. This time it wasn't to your stomach, but to your hands that were clenched in your lap.

And then, as if making a decision that hurt, he crouched in front of you. He brought himself lower so you weren't looking up at him like a judge.

His hand hovered uncertain before he rested it lightly on your knee. It was warm, steady... real. "We don't have to decide anything right now", he said.

You stared at him. "You're... not mad?"

His lips twitched. It wasn't really a smile. It was something more bitter and tired.

"At you?" he murmured. "Never".

The way he said it was so absolute that it almost made you cry. You swallowed hard. "I don't know what to do".

Law's eyes soften, just a fraction. "Okay".

Okay.

That was the word that meant 'breathe'. A word that meant 'I'm here'. A word that meant 'This is survivable'.

He stood and sat on the edge of his desk close enough that your knees almost brushed his thigh. He looked like he was building a plan in his head piece by piece. You could almost see the weight of it pressing on his shoulders.

When he finally spoke, it was careful. "Pregnancy on a ship is... complicated", he said. "And it's not just you. It's the environment. The stress. The risk of injury. Malnutrition if supplies run low. Infection if anything goes wrong", he said as his eyes narrowed.

It was as if the list was a physical thing he wanted to strangle. "And the world we live in is not kind to children".

The last part was almost a whisper.

You felt your throat close. "So... you don't want it".

Law flinched at the way you phrased it. "No", he said quickly, then stopped. He wanted to recalibrate his words. "That's not-".

He dragged a hand down his face as frustration was bleeding through. It wasn't aimed at you, but rather at himself. At the situation.

"I want you alive", he finally said with a voice low. "I want you safe. I want...", he paused like the next words were dangerous. "I want whatever you want, as long as it doesn't kill you", he said.

Your breath trembled out. "Law..."

He looked at you with something too honest to be anything but love. "I know what pregnancy can do", he said. "I've seen it go wrong. I've watched women die because someone decided their body was a battlefield and not a person".

His fingers curled against the edge of his desk. "If you tell me you don't want to do this, I will not argue. I will not guilt you. I will not-", his voice cracked barely.

"I will not make you carry something you don't want", he said which made your eyes burn.

"And if I do want to?" you whispered.

Law went still. His gaze flickered in a rapid, calculating, but at the same time terrified and protective way.

"Then I'll make sure you survive in it", he whispered back.

Then it hit you how deeply he meant it.

He would make sure that you were alive by the end of the journey. It was like the universe was negotiable if he was holding the scalpel.

Your chest caved in on itself. "I'm scared", you said.

Law's expression shifted and he disappeared for half a second to be replaced by a man who had lost too much and loved too carefully.

"I know", he said. "Me too".

You blinked. "You?"

He let out a breath that sounded like surrender. "I'm terrified", he admitted and the honesty in it was so shocking, you almost laughed through your tears. "Because you're not just... someone on my crew. You're-", he stopped as his throat was bobbing. "You're the one thing I don't know how to live without".

You went very still. Law looked away like he hated himself for saying it, like it costed him skin.

You reached out slowly and touched his hand that was gripping the desk. His fingers were warm and calloused.

He looked back at you. "What do you want?" he asked with a gentler voice now. "Not what you think you should want. Not what makes you a good person. Not what makes this easier for anyone else", he said.

You swallowed as you felt your stomach twist. It wasn't because of nausea this time, but the sheer enormity of being asked a question that only you could answer.

"I don't... I don't know", you whispered. "Part of me wants to run. Part of me wants to... keep it. Part of me feels guilty for even thinking about not keeping it".

Law's eyes held yours. It was steady with no judgment.

"Guilt is a parasite", he said softly. "It feed on you when you're already vulnerable".

You huffed a shaky laugh. "That's such a doctor thing to say".

A faint curve tugged at his mouth, fleeting as a heartbeat. "It's also a me thing to say".

You sat in silence for a moment as the ship was humming around you. The world was continuing as if it hadn't just tilted.

Then you whispered: "If I decide not to... you won't hate me?"

Law's answer was instant. "No".

"And if I decide to keep it... you won't resent me?" His eyes darkened. You could see that fear flashed through them, but it wasn't the fear of being trapped. It was the fear of failing you.

"I would never resent you", he said firmly. "But I would need to plan. Constant monitoring. Restrictions. I'd be-", he exhaled. "I'd be unbearable".

That earned another wet laugh out of you, which made Law's gaze to soften. "I can handle unbearable", you murmured.

He studied you like you were a miracle he didn't deserve.

After a moment of silence, you whispered softly: "I don't want to decide today".

Law nodded immediately as if relieved. "Good".

You blinked. "Good?"

"Yes", he said simply. "Because right now you need food and sleep and someone to take the world off your shoulders for a while".

The tenderness of that made your eyes sting again.

Law stood up and walked around the desk. Then in a very carefully manner, he reached a hand out.

You took it. He pulled you up slowly and for a moment, you were close enough to feel his heartbeat through his shirt.

His other hand hovered at your back, hesitating like he was afraid you would shatter if he touched you wrong.

Then he committed by putting his palm between your shoulder blades. It felt warm and protective.

"You're going to stay with me tonight", he said as his voice was leaving no room for argument. "Not because I don't trust you, because I do, but because I don't trust your brain right now. It's going to try to eat you alive".

You let out a shaky breath. "That's...", you said.

"Accurate", he finished your sentence dryly. You laughed breathless and it turned into something dangerously close to a sob.

Law's arms tightened around you just a little. "I'm here", he murmured into your hair. "Whatever you decide. Whatever happens. I'm here".

Your fingers clutched at his coat. You didn't know yet what you wanted.

But you knew that you wouldn't be choosing alone. Not when he was here with you.

@/2026 ave

[aveocadeo]

↺ loading up the rules...

⇀ 1. please be nice in the comments and with each other! ⇀ 2. everything that I write is fictional and doesn't involve or reflect my personal beliefs. ⇀ 3. when I mark the fic with a 'minors DNI', it's intended for mature audiences only (i have warned y'all), so please be responsible since I can't check every bio for age. ⇀ 4. don't plagiarise my content or feed it into ai.

⇀ if you want to request...

i write for any genders from mainly one piece and haikyuu.

i can write from other fandoms as well as long as i know or have seen it.

if you want to involve any specific kinks or fetishes, please make sure to double check with me on the inbox or dms!

please be nice when you request or else i will ignore the request, thank you!

@/2026 ave

[aveocadeo]

Hey, I was wondering if I could request a Luffy x reader who's socially awkward and has the same power as Rudo from Gachiakuta, fluff? please, Thank you in advance for reading my request, have a good day 🩷🫶

a/n: Ouuuu that's a nice idea! I'm happy that you requested that, so I hope you'll enjoy this fic! I apologise in advance if it wasn't very fluff as you wanted <3 (I also added an extra perk of the power, so that the reader is able to only give defensive weapons to other people besides themselves)

The pirate that loved the trash. [Monkey D. Luffy x socially awkward! gn! reader]

tags: luffy x reader, fluff, socially awkward! reader, reader has power like Rudo (Gachiakuta) + extra perk, first meeting, action fights.

ave's corner of masterlist

On the few maps brave enough to name this island, people learned to hush either from the stink, the scavenger gangs or the things that moved under the trash when the tide went out.

They called the island Heap-Hush Island.

You learned that early that breathing through your mouth helped, but stepping on that aluminium always betrayed you outside. That the wind carried voices, sometimes from people or sometimes from hollow pipes that sang when the sea hit them just right.

And you learned the most important thing of all: Trash wasn't trash if you knew how to listen to it.

You crouched behind a collapsed billboard with knees hugged to your chest, watching the shoreline through a jagged mouth of broken plastic. The sun had that washed-out look it got when it had to fight through smoke.

Somewhere out there, there were seagulls that screamed like they were being paid per complaint. A ship bobbed at the dock. You could see a lion figurehead grinning like it had never tasted rust in its life.

You blinked. "Of course", you whispered to nobody. "Of course they would come here".

The Straw Hat Pirates. You had heard about them. What started as whispers and turned into everyone checking up in the sky and wide out on the sea.

They spilled onto the pier like a traveling festival. There was a green-haired swordsman with the posture of someone ready to fight the world. A long-nosed guy waving like he could ward of the danger by being extremely visible. There was a woman with hair that shone even in this ugly light. A tall skeleton that your brain could not handle to process it right now, followed by a man in a suit and a reindeer.

And then it was him.

A boy in a straw hat with sandals slapping against damp wood and a grin wide enough to split the island in half. He looked at the mountains of junk and went with his whole chest: "WOAAAAH!"

Your shoulders rose to your ears on instinct. You didn't do people, especially groups. You especially didn't do groups that laughed loud enough to make the trash shift.

You should leave. You told yourself this every time curiosity dug its nails into you, yet this time you stayed.

Because well... The island felt different when he stepped onto it. It was like someone just lit a match in a damp room.

The crew started moving inland and you tracked them from cover to cover. From slipping behind an overturned shipping container to ducking into a canyon made of stacked refrigerators and snapped furniture.

Every step you took, you checked your pockets automatically and tried to feel three familiar shapes that were cold against your fingers:

A rusted box cutter blade. A twisted bike chain link. A broken umbrella rib.

Three broken things, yet three chances at the same time. They were voices that faintly sounded like they were waiting for you to say their names.

Your power wasn't loud. It didn't announce itself with lightning or fire. It was a feeling.

A pulse in your palms when you touched something tossed away. Something that still wanted to matter.

Sometimes you wondered if you were the one giving objects purpose or if they were the ones lending you courage.

Suddenly you heard shouting ahead which made your head jerk up. A swarm of men poured out from behind a wall of scrap metal. It wasn't beasts. They were people armed with hook-spears and clubs studded with nails.

Their clothes were patched together from tarps and torn flags. Their eyes were hungry in the way desperate people got.

"Pirates!" one of them yelled. "Shiny ship means shiny loot! Take 'em!"

The Straw Hats stopped in their tracks. You pressed yourself flatter against the trash while your heart was thumping too hard and too fast. One of the crewmates shouted: "I told you this place looked suspicious!"

Everyone was ready to fight, but you noticed a specific person who just seemed to brighten from the sight.

"Oh!" he said in a delighted way. It was like enemies were an unexpected snack. "You guys want to fight?"

You stared at him. He wasn't scared. He wasn't cautious. He didn't even look annoyed. He just looked... happy to be here.

The first wave hit them like a crashing tide. It should've been over quickly and it mostly was. The Straw Hats moved like a machine.

A bunch of enemies were taken down in one go as each crewmate did their own thing, but it came to a point that there were too many enemies.

They kept coming. Your lips twitched despite yourself, then your stomach dropped.

The gangs weren't just rushing in. They were circling.

You noticed the way some enemies didn't engage. Instead, they were slipping behind, climbing junk mounds and positioning themselves near the dock. Near the Sunny.

It was a trap.

Your fingers tightened around the broken umbrella rib in your pocket. You could leave. You could slip away and pretend you never saw any of this. It would be the safest option for you. It would be easier.

Your heart hammered at the thought of stepping into the open. Of being seen and having eyes on you.

But then you saw Luffy pause mid-fight and glanced back toward his ship with a frown.

It wasn't of fear.

It was out of concern. Like the Sunny mattered the way you mattered to your trash.

He didn't know it, but he was about to be pinned between protecting his crew and protecting his home.

And something in you tightened. You weren't going to watch people who loved things get punished for it.

Your breath shook in. Out. In. And then you moved.

You slid down the heap, landing behind and enemy with a soft crunch of broken glass. Your hands found a discarded piece of metal pipe half-buried in slime.

You touched it and the world clicked.

The pipe wasn't dead. It was tired. Bent. Forgotten, but it still had weight and a job it could do.

You whispered quietly for its help and the pulse flared in your palms. The pipe shuddered, then answered to you. It was becoming something sharper and cleaner as rust was shedding like old skin. It didn't look pretty, nor polished, but it was awake.

A vital tool which you swung.

The first enemy went down as they were blinking in surprise like they couldn't believe trash had teeth. You didn't seem to stop.

You grabbed the twisted bike chain link and touched it to a snapped length of chain on the ground. A second after that, there was a pulse and a flash with the sound of chains.

The chain stiffened into a whipping, segmented tether that snapped out like a living thing, wrapping a man's ankle and yanking him off the junk pile with a yelp.

There were now two tools humming at your fingertips. Your third item, your rusted blade, burned like a star.

But you saved it, since you knew you had a limit. You always had a limit. You couldn't waste it if you pushed another object into sight.

More enemies surged from behind the dock. There were too many which made your throat close. The urge to retreat clawed up your spine.

Then you heard Luffy's voice closer now, loud and bright: "Hey! Stop messing with my ship!"

He vaulted over a pile of tires as rubber was squealing under his sandals. He landed between the enemies and the Sunny like a kid defending a sandcastle from the water.

And then he saw you.

You froze mid-swing with your pipe raised and chain taut as the moment was stretching thin as a fishing line.

His eyes went wide. It wasn't with suspicion, but rather with awe. "Woah! You're strong!" he shouted as the compliment was tossed out like candy at you.

Your face went hot. Your brain tried to restart itself and failed. Words gathered behind your teeth like frightened birds and you just managed to let out: "...I'm not- I mean- I-".

Your pipe vibrated with eager. The enemies didn't wait for your social crisis to resolve. One was already lunged toward you.

Instinct took over as you ducked and swung the pipe up which made the man's weapon fly from his hands. The chain lashed out, catching another by the wrist and snapping his hook-spear away.

Luffy just laughed in the background and punched someone into the distance like a pebble. "You're making trash fight!" he said like that was the coolest thing he had ever heard.

You flinched. "It's- it's not trash".

He blinked, then grinned even wider as if you had handed him a secret treasure from this island. "Yeah! You're right!"

And then as if it was the most natural follow-up in the world: "What's your name?"

Your heart tried to escape through your ribs.

Name. Name. Say a normal person thing.

You stared at the ground, at the litter scatter of bottle caps and cracked ceramics, because eye contact felt like standing too close to a bonfire.

"I-", you swallowed. You told him your name in a shaken tone, but Luffy didn't mind that at all. He repeated your name immediately like he was testing how it tasted.

Then he said your name again. He said it like it belonged here, like it belonged with him. The warmth in your chest was so sudden it almost hurt.

A short cut through the moment. There were more enemies now that was armed better this time. A bigger group that was moving in coordinated formation.

It was with the gang leaders.

Your hands trembled as adrenaline drained into fear. You only had three tools, but you sensed that the crew you were meeting was different. You could feel it.

Luffy squared his stance. His crew regrouped behind him, scattered and scuffed, but was still smiling in that infuriating way people did when they weren't alone.

"We're gonna finish this", Zoro muttered with his swords ready.

Nami's eyes flicked over to you. It felt like a quick assessment, but she wasn't unkind. "You okay?" she asked which you nodded too fast, then nodded slower because you realised that felt suspicious to do.

Robin just smiled softly as if she understood everything you hadn't said.

Usopp pointed at you with dramatic accusation. "Are you- Are you a secret weapon?!" which made you almost drop your pipe.

Luffy just slapped his arm and told him: "No! They're just cool!"

You didn't know what to do with that sentence. You physically didn't have the emotional storage space for that.

Enemies rushed toward you guys. Your power buzzed urgently. You had to make a choice now.

You pulled the rusted blade from your pocket and pressed it to a discarded chunk of thick plastic. It was from an old sign that looked cracked, but seemed sturdy enough.

The pulse slammed through your palms like a heartbeat that wasn't yours. The plastic shivered and was reshaping into something like a shield. It had edges serrated with embedded metal scraps and surface slick, but unbreakable for the moment it needed to be.

Your nose stung, which you knew. You had pushed it close, but luckily not to the extreme.

"Use this", you blurted out while shoving the shield toward Luffy before you could think about whether that was weird or too forward.

Luffy took it like it was a gift and his eyes sparkled. "A shield? Awesome!" he shouted in excitement and held it up.

Then immediately he used it wrong. In the best, wrong possible way, he was smashing it into the ground like a springboard and launching himself into the enemy line with a howl.

Your mouth fell open, but your shield seemed to hum with joy. You weren't sure if you had ever felt that before. That a tool was happy to be used like that.

The fight turned fast, because you weren't fighting alone now. The leaders seemed to falter.

They were used to fear and people guarding their own skin. They weren't used to a crew that defended each other like it was intact. They weren't used to a stranger with a trash-born power stepping in without demanding anything back.

And when the last leader went down, pinned by a chain and knocked senseless by a pipe, silence fell like a curtain.

Your tools shuddered.

The pipe crumbled into flakes of rust. The chain disintegrated as it was clinking into nothing. The shield in Luffy's hands softened, then cracked apart into harmless shards that fluttered to the ground like dead leaves.

You swayed. Your nose was definitely bleeding now. That was great. Perfect. Social interaction on hard mode now with bonus bodily fluid.

You lifted a sleeve, trying to hide it, but Luffy was suddenly right there.

He was close to you. Too close to your comfort.

He leaned down with wide eyes filled with concern. That made you panic so hard, your soul briefly left your body.

"Are you hurt?!" he demanded.

"I'm fine", you lied instantly, because you were socially awkward, not socially functional. "It's... normal. It happens".

Luffy stared at you like you had just told him the ocean was made of soup. "That's not normal!" he declared.

Before you could flinch away, he grabbed your wrist and decided you were coming with him.

You squeaked as he was dragging you with him. "I'm taking you to Chopper!" he announced to everyone, including the trash. "Chopper, we have a bleeding friend!"

You tried to pull back. Your brain screamed internally with a 'Don't make a scene' on repeat.

He noticed your slight panic and stopped the dragging as he matched your pace now. It was like he could feel your hesitation and adjusted without thinking.

That made your throat tighten for a completely different reason. "I don't- I don't know you", you managed to say weakly to him.

Luffy looked back over his shoulder with a grin returning like sunrise. "Yeah! That's why we're gonna talk!"

You blinked at him. "That's... backward".

He just hummed like he had never considered that. "Maybe, but you saved my friends. So you're my friend now", he said cheerily.

Your chest went painfully warm. "...That's not how it works", you whispered, even though some part of you desperately wished it was.

Luffy beamed. "It is for me!"

You sat on a chunk of driftwood outside the Sunny while the crew cleaned up. Chopper fussed over your nose like a tiny, furious medic. You could hear his upset tone mumbling: "You can't just bleed because you overused a power! That's- That's- !"

You tried to keep your hands in your lap so you wouldn't fidget.

You failed.

Your fingers kept twitching like they missed the buzz of awakened objects. It was like they missed having a job.

Luffy plopped down beside you without asking. He was close enough that your shoulder almost touched his.

You scooted an inch away automatically, which made him scoot an inch closer like a mirror.

You froze in the spot when you realised what he was trying to do. He tilted his head. "You don't like being close?"

"I...", your mouth opened and then closed. "I'm not used to... people", you muttered.

Luffy made a thoughtful sound. It was almost comical how seriously he took that. "Oh", he said as he scooted back a little.

He wasn't offended. He just made space for you.

You stared at him startled. He reached into a bag and pulled out a piece of meat the size of your face. He held it out to you, which made you stare at him even harder. "I- I can't-", you tried to say, but he cut you off.

"You can", he said simply, "Eat with us".

The words hit you like a gentle shove.

'Eat with us'. It wasn't a 'Thanks for helping, now go away', nor a 'What do you want in return?'.

It was just... Be here.

Your hands hovered with uncertainty. Your heart did that frantic flutter again. Luffy watched you with bright patience like he had all the time in the world to wait for you to decide you deserved good things.

You took the meat with both hands.

Your fingers brushed his. You expected something static or that sharp panic you always got when you touched someone by accident.

Instead, it felt warm. Normal. Luffy just grinned like he had won. "See?"

You chewed carefully, because your brain was still rebooting. The food tasted like salt and smoke and real. It was like something that hadn't been dumped and forgotten.

Across the deck, Usopp whispered loudly to Nami: "Luffy adopted another one".

"He does that", Nami whispered back which made you nearly choke. Luffy leaned toward you conspiratorially. "Do you live here?"

You swallowed. "On the island?"

"Yeah!"

"... Sort of", you admitted. "I move around. It's easier".

"Why?"

There was a silence that fell between you two. You wanted to say it was because people hurt what they didn't understand. You wanted to say it was because crowds were loud. Because you never learned how to be wanted without paying for it.

Instead, you said: "I like trash".

Luffy's eyes softened. "Yeah", he said quietly. "Me too".

That reply made you frown slightly. "You like trash?"

He nodded vigorously. "Not trash-trash", he started to explain as he waved a hand, searching for words like he could physically grab them out of the air. "It's more like... things people throw away. Like they don't matter and that makes me sad".

Your breath caught. You looked at him like really looked at him this time. The grease smudges on his cheek. The scratches on his arms and the way he sat like the world was his friend even when it tried to bite him.

And you realised that he understood. It was maybe not in the same way you did, but in a way that mattered.

"You're weird", you said, even though your tongue tied itself into knots trying to thanking him for seeing you.

Luffy laughed in a delighted tone. "I know!"

He bumped your shoulder lightly with his. It was a gentle, little thud. He wasn't forcing closeness. He was just offering it.

You didn't move away this time.

He pointed toward the junk mountains island. "Show me the best stuff! Like- like treasure trash!" he said.

Your chest tightened, warm and frightening. "You want to... go back in there?"

"Yeah!" he said like the earlier fight was just a minor inconvenience. "You know this place! You can find cool things!"

You opened your mouth to say no. To say you didn't do tours. You didn't do bonding. You didn't do being perceived.

But then you imagined it. Walking through the heaps with someone who didn't see you as a problem to solve, but rather someone who saw your power and went 'Whoa!' instead of 'What's wrong with you?'.

And something small and stubborn inside you nudged you forward. "...Alright", you said with your voice barely there.

Luffy's grin returned with full-force. He sprang up, then paused as if remembering something important.

He held his hand out to you again. He wasn't grabbing your hand. He was offering his hand to you now.

You stared at it like it was a wild animal. Your fingers twitched, but you placed your hand in his. His grip was warm and steady.

When you stood up, the island's trash shifted under your feet like it was making room. Luffy tugged you forward while laughing at something only he could see.

You followed him with your heart racing and your cheeks hot, trying not to trip over your own feet.

And failing, just a little, because you were you.

Luffy caught you easily like it was nothing. It was like it wasn't nothing to be embarrassed about. "Careful!" he said, still smiling.

You stared at him, stunned by the uncomplicated kindness of it. "... I'm trying", you muttered.

"I know!" Luffy chirped. "That's why it's fun!"

Fun.

You didn't remember the last time anything felt like that. You squeezed his hand just once, small and quick, that was an instinctive 'thank you' you didn't have words for.

Luffy squeezed back like he understood anyway.

@/2026 ave

[aveocadeo]

HII its me, the anon the requested the quiet!reader. I am here to inform you that HSkshzuAVAJAVAUAGDUQBSYDHAIDGZIBFIXGWISUDJ3UBDUDBSIEBEURHDUSJDIDJDUAH2YDHDYBDUWBS HUHUSHSUSU THAT WAS SO CUTEEEEEEEEE

Thank u and happy new year!!!🖤🖤

AAAAAA Thank you so much for lovinggg it hehe <3333

ALSO HAPPY NEW YEARRRRRRRR! I hope you had an amazing celebration with your loved ones <333

[aveocadeo]

Could I perchance request Law(and other OP men if u want to..) with quiet reader who isn't good with words/physical affection so they "flirt" with excessive acts of service,, like literally does not let him lift a finger in their presence, opening doors for him, making him coffee, giving him their scarf etc. And like they don't do this for anyone else.

Oddly specific but erhm to be delusional is to be free. LOVEDD the insecurities series btw I've been going down a rabbit hole of ur fics they're all so good its got me reading x readers of characters I usually don't read

a/n: Thank you for enjoying my fanfics! I am really happy that you get to read other characters that you don't usually read! Technically I wanted to add more, but I felt like the whole post would be long (maybe more parts in the future?) so I hope you enjoy the fic!

Let me handle it for you. [One Piece x quiet! gn! reader]

You weren't good with words or physical affection, so when they decided to do acts of service only meant for you, you didn't know how to respond to that.

tags: one piece x reader (seperate scenarios), different acts of services, fluff, gn! reader, quiet! reader, law x reader, luffy x reader.

ave's corner of masterlist

i. Trafalgar Law [Right where you need me.]

You learned pretty quickly that Law moved like he had already mapped every corridor in his head. Every step was efficient and every pause was purposeful. He was a man who didn't waste motion.

Which was why the first time he wasted motion on you, you almost didn't know what to do with it.

It started small.

You reached for the medbay door. It was heavy, vacuum-sealed and very stubborn. You were going to set your hand on the handle, but the door opened before you could even press.

Law didn't look at you when he did it. He didn't say anything either. He just palmed the control panel, slid aside and let you pass like it was nothing.

You paused as you were half-turned in the doorway, unsure whether to say 'thank you' or 'what was that'.

Words were never your strongest weapon, because they often got stuck on the way out and ended up tangled into awkward lumps in your throats.

Law's eyes flicked up from his clipboard. "...Are you coming in or are you going to stand there until I retire?" he asked with a deadpanned expression.

You blinked, then obediently stepped inside so you weren't bothering your captain even further.

And because he was Law, he pretended he had never opened the door for you at all.

It seemed that the crew noticed before you did. Shachi leaned against the wall one evening, watching you attempt to carry a box of medical supplies that was too big for you to carry. In your defense, it wasn't that big.

"Hey, you need a hand?" he offered as he was already on the way to reach out, but you shook your head.

The truth was that you didn't like being touched. It wasn't because you disliked him or the others or people in generally. You just didn't know what to do with it. Like where to put your hands or how long to hold and when to let go.

You were all sharp corners and hesitations like a cat that had never been petted without consequences. You tried to lift the box again when a shadow suddenly fell over you.

Law appeared from nowhere with one hand already under the box. He lifted it like it weighed nothing.

"No", he said simply as if he gave you and Shachi the obvious answer to the situation. He was indeed not giving you the obvious answer.

Shachi's eyebrows shot up. "No what?"

You stared after him as you were now empty-handed.

"I was going to help", Shachi said in a wounded tone and Law didn't even turn around as he replied with: "You help by staying out of my way".

In the background there was Penguin who whistled low from the other end of the hall. "Captain's got it bad".

You pretended you didn't hear. It was mostly because you weren't sure what that meant, but also because your face was suddenly too warm.

From that situation, it escalated like Law had decided your daily existence was an inconvenience he was personally responsible for eliminating.

You woke up to your coffee already made. It wasn't just made. It was made the way you liked it. It wasn't too sweet, but not overly bitter either. It was also warm enough to thaw your hands when the sea air got cruel.

You looked around the galley with a big question mark above your head. Bepo blinked at you over his mug. "Captain said you'd forget to eat again", he explained like that solved everything.

You held the cup in both hands. You had actually forgotten.

Later, you tried to wash your own mug, but a hand slid between you and the sink. There were gloved fingers taking the cup from your grasp.

"Don't", Law said.

You stared at him. "I can-", you tried to say, but he cut you off with a slight glare at you.

Law's eyes narrowed. There was a slight crack in his composure as if something dangerously tender was trying to slip through.

"I know", he said quietly. "That's not the point".

You swallowed as your brain offered you fifty possible responses, yet your mouth delivered none of them. So you simply... stood there while he washed your mug.

Law dried it with a towel and put it back in the cabinet on the shelf at eye-level that was easy reachable for you.

Then he left like he hadn't just rearranged his entire evening around a cup you could have cleaned yourself.

But even though he did all of that, you tried to fix it. You didn't want to be a burden and you didn't want to be someone that needed handling. You hated the idea of taking up too much space.

So the next time you caught him making your coffee, you reached for the kettle first.

Law's hand closed over yours before you could even touch the handle.

It wasn't a grab. It wasn't rough. It was just... a stop.

You both froze like the contact surprised him as much as it did you. His thumb pressed lightly to the back of your hand through his glove. It felt warm.

You stared at where you were connected. Law's voice came out a fraction lower than usual. "You're going to burn yourself", he said.

"I won't", you managed to say that back to him, but your voice was quiet.

"You will", he insisted. "You get distracted".

You did. That was true. Your thoughts had a habit of drifting out to sea that left your body to follow on autopilot.

Law's grip tightened just slightly, like he was anchoring you to the present. "Let me", he said.

You wanted to ask him why. You wanted to say you don't have to. You wanted to thank him in a way that felt like it could actually reach him.

Instead, you did what you always did when emotion got too big in your chest.

With a slight blush on your cheeks, you just nodded and Law exhaled like he had been holding his breath. Then he released your hand and finished the coffee with steady movements.

He set the mug in front of you. You seemed to hover over it uncertain, which made Law to glance up over the rim of his own cup.

"...You can at least drink it", he said as if he were annoyed. As if he hadn't just looked at you like you were something unbreakable he had decided to protect anyway.

You just wrapped your hands around the mug as the warmth welcomed your fingers. He had made it perfect again.

The night the ship hit rough waters, you learned the final form of his flirting. You were in the corridor when the Polar Tang rolled hard. You stumbled, trying to catch yourself on the wall.

Before you could right yourself, Law was there.

He didn't touch you immediately. He hesitated and that was what got you.

Law, who never hesitated with scalpels or strategies, had his eyes swept over you like a scan to check for injuries. For pain. For anything he could fix.

Then, carefully like he was approaching a skittish animal, he slid his coat off his shoulders and held it out.

You stared at it. Law's voice was a rough murmur. "Put it on".

You blinked. "But I'm not-".

"You're cold", he cut in. The truth was that you were actually cold. The kind of cold that sank into your bones and made your hands tremble.

But warming yourself up with... his coat?

It was too intimate. Too much and too close to him. You didn't know how to accept something like that. You didn't know how to hold it without it turning into a confession.

Law's jaw flexed as he just said: "It's just fabric". He sounded like he was scolding you for overthinking.

In fact, he was wrong about it being just fabric. It smelled like him. It was the smell of antiseptic, smoke and something dark yet steady beneath it all.

You reached out slowly. Your fingers were brushing the edge of the coat. Law's hand tightened on it, not letting go of it yet.

His gaze locked onto yours. "You don't have to say anything", he said quietly. "I'm not doing this for a thank you".

You could feel your heart stutter for a second. You tried to let any words out, but nothing came out.

Frustration flared behind your eyes. You disliked this part of yourself. The part that couldn't translate feeling into language. The part that made affection a locked door you didn't have the key for.

Law's expression softened barely, but you could see it. He stepped closer and very carefully draped the coat over your shoulders himself.

The weight settled around you like a shield. He didn't brush your skin, nor did he trap you. He just adjusted the collar so it wouldn't slip.

His gloved knuckles grazed your jaw by accident, which made you flinch. Not away, but it startled you a bit.

That got Law to immediately pull back like you had burned him. "I'm sorry", he said.

Your throat tightened. You didn't want him to be sorry. You didn't want him to retreat. Your hand lifted before you could overthink it. It was slow and filled with hesitation, but you were able to catch the edge of his sleeve.

It was just a tiny hold, like a gentle anchor.

Law went still. His eyes dropped to where your fingers clung. Then, he slowly turned his hand palm up between you.

It wasn't a demand, but rather an offer. You stared at his open palm like it was a bridge you didn't know how to cross. Your fingers hovered and you both could see them trembling.

You placed your hand in his.

Law's grip was careful. It was controlled as if he was handled something precious and didn't trust himself not to ruin it.

He didn't squeeze. He just held. And for the first time, you didn't feel like you had to find the right words to deserve it.

Law's thumb brushed your knuckles softly once. His voice was quiet enough that the storm nearly swallowed it.

"...There", he said. "That's good".

You swallowed with eyes stinging.

You couldn't say 'I like you'. You couldn't say 'Please don't stop'. You couldn't say 'This means everything'.

So you did the only thing you could.

You held his hand back.

And Trafalgar Law, a man of sharp edges and careful cruelty, stayed exactly where you needed him.

ii. Monkey D. Luffy [I got you.]

Luffy was loud. It wasn't always with his voice, but with his presence as well. Like the world was something he could hug with both arms if he tried hard enough. It was like he belonged everywhere he put his feet.

You weren't like that.

You were the quiet space in a room. You were like the soft pause between jokes. The person who listened more than spoke because speaking felt like trying to swallow the sun.

Even though you were like that, the crew liked you anyway. Of course they did, because the Straw Hats loved things wholeheartedly and you were no exception.

But Luffy? Luffy loved you like it was a mission.

And because you didn't do words and physical affection well, Luffy somehow figured out the one language you did understand.

He stopped letting you do anything alone.

It began the first morning you joined them. You shuffled into the galley half-awake with your hair being a mess and soul hovering somewhere else but your body. When you tried to reach for the kettle, Luffy was already there plopping a steaming cup in front of you like it had appeared by magic.

"There!" he announced. "Drink!"

You blinked at the cup. "I... didn't ask".

"You looked like you wanted it", he said like that was the only logic needed. You stared down at the drink. It wasn't fancy. It was just warm with enough sweetness. It was giving comfort in liquid form.

"Thanks", you tried to say. Luffy just gave out a huge and bright grin while leaning on the table like a golden retriever waiting for praise.

You froze on the spot, since compliments made you panic. Gratitude made you fumble, while affection made you glitch. Your mouth opened, but your brain just offered static.

Luffy waited. You just nodded awkwardly and took a sip.

That alone made him beam like you had just confessed your eternal devotion to him and said: "Okay, good!" in a satisfied tone.

And then he bolted outside like his job was done.

You could say Luffy's flirting was... relentless. It wasn't the pet names or smooth lines. Luffy didn't do subtle very well.

He did 'service'. He did 'showing up'. He did 'making sure you were okay' with the intensity of someone protecting a treasure he had decided was his.

You tried to carry groceries once. Luffy snatched the bags with a "I got it!"

Even if you tried reaching out, he was just showing the entire haul onto his shoulders and bounced down the stairs like it was nothing. "Luffy-" "I GOT IT!"

In the background was just the rest of the crew quietly complaining how he never did it for them. "I think you're his favourite", Usopp whispered dramatically which made you to nearly choke.

Suddenly you saw Luffy pop his head back into the galley. "You need more stuff?" he asked with a smile, but you just shook your head with slight embarrassment.

One afternoon, you sat on the deck with a book. You weren't reading. The pages were open, but your eyes kept drifting along with the calm sea and the warm air.

Peace was a fragile thing for you. You never wanted to move too suddenly and scare it away.

A shadow fell across your page which made you glance up. It was Luffy holding your jacket.

Your jacket, which you had left inside because you didn't think you would need it. "You forgot this", he said serious.

"I didn't-", you tried to say but got cut off by Luffy.

"You always get cold later", Luffy insisted.

You just stared at him confused. "How do you-".

"I pay attention", he said like it was obvious. Like noticing you was as natural as breathing. Your chest tightened in a way that made you want to look away.

Luffy sat beside you without asking. He was close enough that your shoulder brushed his arm, which made you to stiffen automatically.

Luffy didn't move closer though, since he didn't want to force contact. He just simply draped the jacket over your lap and then leaned back with his hands behind his head like it was the most casual thing in the world.

You swallowed and felt the wind pick up. The jacket blocked it.

You didn't know how to say 'thank you' in a way that felt big enough. So you did what you did best and that was staying.

Luffy hummed contentedly as he stared at the clouds. After a few minutes, he asked: "Are you hungry?"

It took you a couple seconds before shaking your head slightly. "Not really", you said.

Luffy's stomach growled loudly right after you said that and he gave you a sheepishly grin. "Well, I am".

You almost smiled, like almost.

Luffy jolted upright like he had seen a treasure map. "Wait here! I'll get you food!"

You sat up. "Luffy, I said-", but before those words could even reach to him, he was already gone. You sighed helplessly.

Five minutes later, he returned with a plate of snacks and a cup of something warm. "I got you tea!" he declared proudly. "And crackers! And also meat for me".

You stared at the tea he just got you. It was also... the kind you liked. The one you had mentioned once quietly, in passing when Sanji asked what you wanted. Luffy had remembered.

He shoved the cup into your hands. "Drink!"

You hesitated for a bit, but took it. Luffy watched you like it mattered.

You took a sip and the warmth spread through you. You could see that Luffy's grin softened into something gentler. Something almost shy.

"See?" he said quieter. "Good".

The problem with Luffy was that he was all heart and that was dangerous for someone like you.

Because one late night, after a long day, you found yourself alone on the deck. You were staring at the stars with too many thoughts and not enough words. You didn't realise someone had joined you until a specific Straw Hat shadow fell over your hands.

Luffy sat beside you with his knees pulled up. He didn't speak for a while. He just existed next to you. The silence wasn't empty.

Then he held out something.

It was a blanket. You stared at it.

"You looked sad", Luffy said simply. Your throat tightened. You weren't sure you 'were' sad. You were just... full. You were full of feeling you couldn't translate.

Luffy draped the blanket around you anyway. Then after a pause, he offered you a skewered dumpling he had stolen from the kitchen.

"You stole that", you whispered as you pointed at the skewer.

Luffy just grinned. "Yeah".

You stared at the dumpling and then at him. Luffy's expression softened when his eyes met yours. "You don't have to talk", he said. "But you can eat".

You huffed a quiet breath that might have been a laugh if you were brave. You took the dumpling and Luffy watched pleased like he had solved the most impossible puzzle in the world.

Then he reached up slowly and tapped your shoulder with one finger. The motion was a question. It wasn't touch exactly, nor was it forced. It was just a 'Can I?'.

You froze. Your body wanted to flinch. Your brain wanted to run, but you saw that Luffy waited patiently. He was open and waited there.

Then after a couple silencing moments, you nodded barely which got Luffy to smile like sunrise and very gently leaned his head against your shoulder.

The contact was warm and light. It wasn't trapping. You didn't feel like it was demanding.

It was just there.

Your hands shook. You didn't know where to put them.

So you didn't. You simply held your dumpling and stared at the stars and tried not to breathe too loud.

Luffy sighed happily like he had found home again.

After a moment, he mumbled: "You're really nice".

Your heart lurched. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. No words, yet Luffy didn't seem to need them.

He nudged your shoulder again with that same gentle insistence. "Stay with us", he said. "With me".

You swallowed hard. And because you couldn't say 'yes' the way you wanted... You just leaned, just slightly, into the warmth of his head on your shoulder.

Luffy made a quiet, satisfied sound. "Okay", he whispered like he understood you perfectly.

And the stars kept shining with the sea breathing underneath as Luffy's devotion wrapped around you like a blanket you didn't have to earn.

@/2025 ave

[aveocadeo]

happy new year, ave 🥳

HAPPYYYY NEW YEARRR TOOO YOUUUUUU TOOOO hehehe <3333 (really hit my heart there with that message) I hope you and your fiancée had an amazing celebration!

[ughhvix]

☆ nerd ya out!

— a haikyuu fanfic // you strike a deal with the class nerd.

synopsis: you decided to strike a deal with that nerd in your class, kuroo tetsurou. pairing: afab mean girl!reader x nerd!kuroo [uni AU] wc: 6.1k (i honestly thought it was longer)cw: NOT PROOFREAD. mean girl x nerd dynamics. switch!kuroo. feral kuroo. he's a YEARNERRRR with ZERO sexual knowledge. crackfic if you squint. they're both sorta dumb. nsfw includes: c*nnilingus, "teaching s*x", p in v, raw, overst*mulation, sq*irting, marathon s*x, switch kuroo, dom-ish hypers*xual reader, multiple org*sms, f*ngering, semi-public mast*rbation. let me know if i missed any :p old m.list | new m.list

☆ assignment 01.

when kuroo tetsurou raised his head up, his cheeks were flushed, hair spiky with sweat beading on his temple, and chin and full lips dripping with your sex. the bottom rim of his glasses were coated in your slick. he heaved, chest raising up and down as he looked at you with anticipation burning through his chest, "w-was that good...?"

you let the question hang in the air for a minute. his dorm room — in which you're both currently holed up — was small. the white of the walls was bland, the fan rotated with a soft creak, and the light on the ceiling flickered sometimes. his bed was small, too small to fit the two of you together. you weren't sure why you were even here. oh, wait. right. to repay him for doing your assignments.

━━━☆⭒

kuroo had approached you, all stuttering and tomato-red two days ago. you were chewing gum, scrolling on your phone in the halls, waiting for him. when you had spotted him, your eyes had assessed his face with a sly grin, "what is it, nerd?"

"i-" he swallowed, pushing the assignment towards you. although he towered over you, 6'2 of a man drowning in oversized sweaters, his demeanor shrunk him down till you felt like you could all but step on him and leave him for dead. his hair was always a mess of bed head, untamed spikes spread sporadically over the expanse of his head. one of his eyes was obscured by his bangs. tall, well-built, angular face. he could have been hot if he wanted you, you had presumed.

he had averted his gaze from you, pushing the assignment towards you again, "here's your... your assignment. but... uh, i wanted to ask you something."

"shoot." your manicured fingers had brushed against his as you took ahold of the handwritten, binded folder. he had shuddered at your faint touch. you had teased him, "ya okay, nerd?"

"i..." he had lifted his gaze up to your face and swallowed again. "in exchange for the assignment..." his gaze had dropped to the ground again, his voice a mere whisper. "are you actually gonna... like- come to my dorm tonight?"

"yeah," you had shrugged, your gloss glimmered lips stretching into a grin again. "you did my assignment right?" he had nodded, far far too quick. you had booped his nose with your index, "okay, see ya then."

━━━☆⭒

now, here you were, in his bed. his narrow, hazel eyes raked over you. he held his bottom lips between his teeth, awaiting your response. you rolled your eyes at the man, sighing as you pulled your body up from the small bed of his dorm room. "well, i didn't cum."

the expression kuroo gives you was a cross somewhere between complete devastation and absolute ruination. his brows furrowed and he fumbled to push his glasses up, "i- you didn't cum...?"

"nah." you shrugged, "good try, though." you were already attempting to sit up, fixing your denim skirt to fit over the gentle slope of your ass and cover your apex. your chest jiggled with those lewd actions. kuroo felt his mouth grow drier, not even registering as you yammered on. "most guys don't offer to eat a girl out. and y'know, it wasn't bad for a virgin."

kuroo was still on his knees. he stared down at you. he tried to clean off his face with the back of his hand, his erratic gaze looking at your disapproving expression, "l-let me try again. i can- i'll make you cum."

you cocked up an eyebrow, your eyes tracing from his flushed, determined face down to the clear tent in his sweats. there was a patch of wetness right where his cockhead weeped out beads of pre. subconsciously, you swallowed. he was big. you didn't have to take off his sweats to realize that. too bad the fucking nerd didn't know how to use it. you looked back at his face and shrugged, "nah. it's fine. i gotta get going anyways."

as you stood up, kuroo did too. he followed after you to his door, "b-but i can try again."

you turned around on your heels, crossing your hands over your fitted shirt. your chest held snugly against the fabric, with your enticing nipples tempting him. kuroo swallowed, towering over you and yet trembling with fear, "give me another chance, please?"

you blinked up at him, your glimmery lips stretching into a smirk, "do my next assignment, and you'd get another chance, hm?"

"o-okay." his words shook, eyes hardening with resolve. "b-but i'll get you to cum next time."

you grinned, "whatever ya say, nerd."

and with that, you were out. his door shut behind you with a sharp sound. your breath shuddered as soon as you were out of his line-of-sight. you pressed your thighs together, felt as your soapy essence stuck to your inner thighs. sure, kuroo didn't make you cum but you were sure that if you let him, he would have.

sneaking down to the empty fire exit staircase of his apartment complex, you looked around for a cctv. finding none, your fingers ghosted over your own wettened cunt. closing your eyes, your breath shuddered as you slipped in one finger within yourself, then another. you were so wet, god.

you increased your pace, curling your digits inside your cunt to hit that gooey spot. you bucked forward, mouth falling agape and labored breath echoing in the empty staircase. you clenched eyes shut, thinking back to the flushed image of him — kuroo.

his stupid specs, the cherry red blossom of his cheeks, his pink lips dripping with your sheen, his carnal need to please you. you curled your digits faster, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as images of him flooded your brain. the labor of his breath, the desperation of his syllables, the way his hair felt in your grasp as he licked your cunt with such soft stripes.

"fu-fuuck. k-kuroo." you mewled, arching your back off of the wall and keening into your own experienced palm. your orgasm came crashing with trembling thighs and ever-more-trembling breath. you slumped down the wall and sat on one of the many steps of the stranded staircase. as your breath evened, you opened your eyes. your slippery essence stuck to your two fingers, you looked at your fingers and then around you. what the fuck did you just do?! fuck in an emergency exit while thinking of that nerd?!

well, whatever. it's not like he knew. it's not like anyone knew you just came to the thought of kuroo tetsurou. he was just one of the many nerds on campus that was thirsting after you. that's all. you picked yourself up on your jelly-like limbs and practically dashed down the staircase. you should probably forget this incident for yourself.

━━━☆⭒

☆ assignment 02.

but forgetting didn't come by easily.

kuroo gave you the next assignment the very next day, stopping you in the hallways to hand over the bound text, even with your friends surrounding you. you ushered him to a side, glancing back at your friends to give them a strained smile as he hurried him away.

you cocked up an eyebrow, hissing at him once you were out of your friends' earshot. "kuroo, what the fuck?"

"assignment." he seemed unwinded, already feverish and burning red from the excitement of what came next according to your deal. you narrowed your eyes as you shifted between his face and the stack of papers he held in his palms, "this assignment is due next thursday. why are you giving it to me right now?"

"i-" his eyes darted from behind his metal rimmed glasses, he looked around the hallways before whispering, "you'd come over tonight, right?"

"i-" you bit down your lips. you really shouldn't. especially not after that little stunt you pulled in the staircase of his apartment complex. you swallowed, shrugging defiantly. "i'm busy today. going for karaoke with my girls."

"but..." he looked like a kicked puppy, like someone who had been rid of every thing good and holy. "but we had a deal."

"yeah, that we can do stuff in exchange for my assignments." you nodded, "however, this assignment is due next week. so, really there's no need for me to come over today." you hummed, already preparing to turn on your heels and go back to your group, "see ya later."

kuroo's hand circled your wrist, tugging it to stop your way. immediately, your eyes widened. why was this fucking nerd holding your hand out in front of everybody?!

you turned around, quickly tugging your hands away from him, "what."

"i can't wait that long." he heaved, his erratic gaze fixed against yours. there was something more than just lust swirling about in his hazel irises. determination. he pleaded with you, his body bending forwards to meet your face. "i gotta see you. please. tonight."

the intensity of his words turned your sinews into mush. you blinked at him, helpless. you had had your fair share of idiots falling head-over-heels and being obsessed with you, but none like this. never like this. nobody had ever wanted you as carnally as kuroo tetsurou had.

you turned around again, huffing with blatant attitude, "fine. i'll come over after karaoke." glancing back at him, you narrowed your eyes with a hiss, "this better be worth my fucking time."

"y-yes." you heard him breathe out a sigh of relief, something that was accompanied with a wide, wiiiide grin. your girls were so gonna flame you for this interaction. "okay. see you."

you walked away before you could regret your decision. when you met back up with your girls, they raised a brow at you, "what was up with him?"

you laughed it off, "you know how nerds are. give them one little sliver of attention and they go a bit crazy."

however, it was hard to tell who was going crazy. kuroo or you.

later, that night.

as soon as you were inside his small, suffocating dorm, he pushed you to his bed. his hands were clammy, coated with a layer of sweat. you looked at him, thoroughly amused as he pawed up your skirt to bunch above your pelvis.

"whoa, what's with the hurry?" you laughed, almost flattered at his animalistic desire. kuroo met your eyes and grinned, something feverish and proud. "i did research."

you tilted your head to a side, "on... what?"

"on cunnilingus."

you winced at his words. "jeez, don't call it by its official name."

"is it... not cunnilingus?"

"it is. just—" you sighed, "nevermind, kuroo."

"okay!" kuroo tugged at your panties to pull them down your smooth legs. it was pocketed into his sweats. he looked at your glistening core and licked his lips in anticipation. "i read about what makes a woman feel good, and how to engage the g-spot. oh, and how to find the clitoris!" he nodded, proud. "i even watched a few videos."

"you did research...?" you blinked at him, mouth agape at the sheer smugness in his face. then, a loud laugh broke out of you, "wow, you're such a nerd."

kuroo blinked, "i am?"

"okay, then." you smiled, laying yourself down on his bed comfortably. you closed your eyes, bringing your breath to a steady crawl. "how about you show me whatcha learnt, ye—AHH?" you yelped as he wrapped his arms around your plush thighs and pulled you towards himself. the lower half of your body dangled off of his tiny bed, resting on his (suprisingly sturdy) shoulders.

"okay..." his warm breath fanned over your cunt. "i read that i- i gotta star slow..." your felt his breath hitch as he brought his lips closer to your apex. he exhaled, fanning the hot breath over your trembling nub. "tell me if i hurt you or-or if i do something that—"

"oh my god," you wove your manicured fingers into his hair and pushed his face into your cunt. he groaned against you, the sound reverberating through your pliant cunt and into the column of your spine. "mmmph—!"

you hissed, "get on with it now."

kuroo tetsurou didn't need to be told twice. his arms (surprisingly beefy) tightened against your thighs, pulling your body against his face tighter and tighter. he started with a kitten lick, starting from your fluttering hole as his nose nudged on the throbbing nub and then to your clit. he repeated the action for a little bit, until he felt your grasp on his hair tighten in desperation. then, he latched his lips around your clit and sucked. hollowing out his cheeks, his eyes tried to look for your reaction. your back arched off, eyes clenching shut as your thighs tightened impossibly around his face. suctioning your clit, he used the tip of his tongue to swirl about patterns on the hood of your clit.

"s-shit, kuroo!" you moaned, so sweet and achy as he repeated the action to it's nth degree. your body keened into his warm mouth as he stroked you with his tongue, playing with your body with such skill that it trembled you to your core. his fingernails dug into your thighs, his mouth drinking your nectar as if he was ravished. you felt your stomach tighter, felt an abyss grow within your humanly body. your muscles tightened, "shitshitshit- okay."

biting down on your lips, you all but drew blood in an effort to not let him know that he was undoing you, that he was about to make you cum.

the abyss grew deeper and deeper, the hallowing feeling traversed through your body and lodged itself somewhere deep in your belly. your entire pussy was hot — molten lava. a jerk ran from your tailbone to your nape as you felt your thighs tremble in surrender and wrap around kuroo's face. your jaw hung open, eyes clenching shut in ecstasy, "shit—hnghhh! ku-kuroo!"

you came, sinking your teeth into your lips to conceal your lewd noises. your body shook, each muscle trembling with the overflow of your orgasm. kuroo tetsurou drank down your nectar like it was all there was to life. slowly, you removed your phantom-like grip off of his face. kuroo parted from your cunt with a deep exhale.

he was a mess of spit and your essence. his lips were swollen and painted red. when he looked at you, a nauseating pool of shame swiveled about in your chest. you couldn't believe that that virgin made you cum! god, this was embarassing!

you wondered what he's say next. would he be smug? would he walk about uni campus telling everyone that he had made you cum? nauseating.

but instead of any of the aforementioned options, kuroo tilted his head to the side and stuttered, "d-did you cum?"

wait. he didn't even know you came?!

you furrowed your brows, "do... do you think i came?"

kuroo licked his lips, standing taller on his knees as he regarded you, "i- i didn't exactly read about... female orgasms... so..." his voice fainted, eyes flickering downwards to his own clothed cock. "did you?"

gah! there was your opportunity to deny!

"sorry, no." you sat up, pursing your lips together in a queasy smile, "good job, though. i was almost there. almost."

kuroo looked heartbroken yet again. your cum pooled at the edge of his sharp jaw and fell down in obscene strings, and yet, he didn't even know that was his cum on his skin. he wiped it off with the back of his hand, mumbling to the floor, "i really thought i got you this time." he lifted his gaze up to yours, "it looked intense."

"yeah..." you chewed on your cheek, coming up with yet another lie. "female orgasms are a lot different, y'know? takes years to- um... master. yes, master."

"but you... you moaned out my name." he said it so innocently that you felt a bitter twang waving him off, "i just didn't wanna make you feel bad."

"so, you were faking your moans...?"

that was probably the least fake you had been with a guy, but you nodded nonetheless. you couldn't have his ego climbing high up. you couldn't have him discover the truth.

he sighed, defeated, "i'd read up more next time around. maybe i fucked up."

"uh-huh. don't think too much about it." you nodded solemnly, "see ya later."

and as you stood up, you felt it harder to put forward one step in front of the other. your legs were numb, shaky and utterly useless. you made it out of his dorm without shaking and collapsed as soon as you boarded the lift. god. that stupid fucking nerd! what was he doing to you?

━━━☆⭒

☆ assignment 03.

you had foolishly believed that you could ignore kuroo tetsurou for atleast two weeks now. the next assignment was due towards the end of the month, so, you probably didn't need to see him any time soon. avoiding him on campus was easy enough. your circle didn't mesh with his. you never really went to any classes. yes, kuroo tetsurou could be avoided. easily.

"hey!" kuroo waved to you as you sat with your friends in the cafeteria three days later. you looked at him, blinked and decided it was best to ignore him. however, blissfully ignorant to your ignorance, he kept waving and waving and waving!

"girl." one of your friends spoke up, throwing kuroo a nasty side-eye. "maybe go talk to him. he's icking me out with this constant waving."

you scratched the back of your neck, sheepish, "yeah, maybe he wants to talk about uh... an assignment. be right back."

pulling him out of the cafeteria and in a secluded corner of a hallway, you stood in front of him with your arms crossed, "what. can you stop pestering me?"

he pressed his lips together, tightening his grip on the strap of his bag. "i finished your assignment."

"kuroo." you sighed, rubbing your temple. "i get that you wanna fuck me but the next assignment is due at the end of the fucking month. you can't keep pulling this shit every other day."

"i know." he nodded, pushing his metal-rimmed glasses up his nose, "i actually thought maybe i should do your statistic assignment too."

"stat? the one that is due this friday?" you mumbled and he nodded in agreement. you were back to crossing your arms against your chest, looking up at him with confusion etched into your features. "i thought you were only gonna do inorganic chem for me."

"i was, but then..." he trailed off, "i can do as many assignments as you want. as many subjects. jus'... just keep the deal up."

your first instinct was to fucking life. seriously? was he that desperate to see you? you huffed, "you know i have other people to do other subjects."

"you do?" and for the first time, you felt kuroo tetsurou to be 6'2. he towered over you, his narrow eyes piercing your skin with the way he was looking at you. he took a step forward, then another, till you felt like you were drowning under his shadow. your breath faltered, eyes darting about in the abandoned hallway. "k-kuroo?"

his words were sharp. "am i not good enough?"

"w-what?"

he licked his lips, bending down slightly to meet your eyes, "is it cause i can't get you to cum?"

"no." your breath trembled as you exhaled, "nothing like that—"

he stepped forward again, "i'll do it properly this time 'round. i won't stop till I have you cumming." swallowing, there was this haste in his voice, this sense of urgency that clawed at your chest. his voice dropped down to a whisper, "please. please?"

your mouth felt awfully dry, as if each taste bud had been exchanged for a morsel of sand. you tightened your grip against your own body, holding yourself lest you unraveled. "you don't need to worry so much about that—"

he was so close to you already, and yet he was stepping closer. you swallowed, taking a step back. his lips dropped into a frown, "i can do it. really. i won't disappoint you. please."

with no way out, you exhaled shakily. your eyes met his, "f-fine. i'll come over tonight."

"really?" he smiled, his full lips stretching into a grin. "i promise it'll be good—"

"but if you can't get me to cum today, we aren't doing this again." you snapped, "i have a lot more guys who actually know what they're doing."

that was a lie. there was no one who could compete with kuroo, who could make you feel even half the things he could. but you weren't gonna confess that to the nerd! what if he went out and told others that?! he could potentially tank your entire reputation.

"o-okay." his smile faltered, broad fingers coming to paw at the rim of his glasses again. he fidgeted on his spot, "but if I do... make you cum?"

"then—" you inhaled sharply, "then the deal can continue. but you gotta do all my subjects."

"okay." he nodded, "I'll see you tonight?"

"y-yeah." you chased your gaze away from his face and to your nails, "see ya later, nerd."

later, that night.

you were teetering on the edge of your third orgasm, already teary-eyed and whiney. your cunt was so sensitive, your bottom lip was red and raw from the way you kept biting it, your muscles shook of exhaustion. you hadn't let your mask slip yet, you hadn't moaned out his name and confessed that you were cumming.

you assumed kuroo would give up somewhere along the line. you assumed a man — no matter if a persistent man like him — would eventually give up. rejection wasn't easy, after all. but you were wrong. boyyy, you were wrong.

kuroo pushed the dildo inside slowly, testing your gummy walls with his slow, burning pace. his lips latched onto your sticky, dripping clit and as he pushed the toy into your hole.

your back arched, eyes screwing shut and brain turning into mush as the tip of the silicone wand grazed your g-spot. kuroo's eyes tested you as if you were his personal lab experiment, waiting for your demeanor to reveal to him what your mouth couldn't.

"w-why the fuck... fuck— did you get this— hah, this toy?!" your words shook, half of them cracked and the others high-pitched. kuroo licked the hood of your swollen clit, making out with it so slow and sloppy. he mumbled against you, "i heard some girls need— mmph—! 're so sweet—! to cum."

"y-you fucking idiot!" your chest rose and fell rapidly, the entire upper half of your body blossoming red. "i- it doesn't— hah... ohmygod! do anything for me!"

he stilled against your clit even though his wrist didnt, "you still didn't cum?"

"nuh-uh!" you grimaced as he fastened the toy in and out of you, you bit down your lip again. your hands grasped his sheets, tugging at them with such sheer force that they were to rip. kuroo groaned against your quivering sex, "then, i just gotta keep goin', yeah?"

and that's what he did. kuroo kept going, waiting for you to confess that you were breaking. you didn't.

even as tears leaked down the planes of your cheek, taking down your mascara with it or even as your bottom lip swole as an aftermath of your shame, you didn't say the words, "im cumming."

it was at the 45 mins mark that kuroo finally parted from your lips. three orgasms later. you were far too dazed to even realize when he had parted from your pretty pussy, when his lips had removed themselves from your sensitive, overused cunt. he pulled the toy out of your heat, mesmerized at the your cunt had painted white, creamy rings around the hot pink dildo. you breathed hard, chest rising and falling in sick desperation as you tried to retain your sanity.

though your eyes were clenched shut, you felt kuroo's hollow words hang in the air. "i couldn't get you cum today either."

slowly, you pried your eyes open. the fluorescent white of his room stung your eyes, your bottom lip felt numb and bleeding, and your thighs shook even after he had long departed from your cunt. you blinked up at him, trying to play the part of an unbreakable vixen. "y-yeah, it's okay."

his looked undone as well, mouth red and swollen and wrecked. your slick dripped down the toy and onto his wrist. his hair was a mess, as always, but there was this appeal to it. he bit down his bottom lips, his eyes trained directly against yours. "i don't know what I'm doing wrong..."

you all but clenched your thighs shut at the sight of him. you still felt the phantom feeling of the toy stretching you open, still felt kuroo's breath against your overused pussy. you stole your gaze away from him and flopped onto the bed. looking at the ceiling was easier than looking at him. "n-nothing's wrong with ya. it's just hard making me hic—! cum."

kuroo scratched the back of his neck, dejected. "i guess today's the last day then."

you raised your upper body to look at him, "uh... i guess, yeah."

there hung a beat of silence between you two. kuroo tilted his head to the side, scrutinizing your current state, "you sure you didn't cum?"

"uh, yeah?" you tried not to sound as exhausted as you felt, "i'd know if i came or not, idiot."

"r-right." his sheepish, narrow gaze dropped to his own lap. his cock strained in his sweats with a dark patch of cum right where his tip was. he felt you rustle on his bed and lifted your head up to see you attempting to sit. "are you leaving already?"

you nodded, "uh, yeah. i'll go. thanks for doing my assignments."

kuroo leaned forward, pressing his warm palms to your thighs and pinning you to the bed. you blinked at him, "wh-what the fuck, nerd?"

"if... if today's the last day... then, can i—" he swallowed, sheepish and hesitant. "can I fuck you...? please?"

your eyes blew wide open at his words. you couldn't let him. you were so sensitive, you couldn't possibly take his dick right now. though kuroo had never undressed in front of you (not even take off his shirt), you didn't need an x-ray machine to see how big he was. his cock strained against his pants even on a normal day. that was part of the reason why you struck the deal anyways. you wanted to see the nerd's sexual prowess up close. but now? after eating you out for forty five minutes? you were sure he was gonna fuck you dumb, and you weren't sure how long you could conceal the truth and keep your little act up.

you tried to lighten the situation, laughing, "why? did you do research on how to fuck a girl right?"

"no." kuroo admitted, still staring at your face. "but I wanna try it. i mean..." he mumbled, "i mean if you want me to."

you were quick to shake your head, even quicker to attempt to flee his unyielding grasp on your thighs and attempt to stand up. in retaliation, kuroo just pressed his palms to your feverish skin even tighter. the fat of your thighs squeezed under his grip. he looked up at you, utterly ruined, "j-just once?"

and you should have said no, you should have shaken your head and told him that if he didn't get off of you, you'd tell everyone that he was a creep. instead... you felt yourself nod — slowly but surely. your voice came as a whisper, foreign even to your own self, "just once."

kuroo was quick to move to action. the broad palms on your thighs scaled up your clothed torso. he pressed your skin through the flimsy material of your crop top. squeezing your tits, he leaned in for a searing kiss. his lips against yours were awkward, inexperienced. he just mushed his pout against yours. you laughed against his lips, rolling your eyes to oblivion, "that is not how you kiss."

kuroo looked at you half-lidded, with his glistening lips parted open, "t-teach me."

you grabbed his jaw by your manicured hands, pulling him close to settle his body over yours. your lips slotted against his, and he opened them up in compliance. your tongue licked along the seam of his lips before diving in, rolling your tongue against his. he moaned into your mouth, eyes rolling back and heavy body pressing against yours.

"take- fuck. take off your pants." you panted in his mouth.

"oh-okay." kuroo fumbled over you, barely able to find his footing on the small bed, which already cried creaks of protest with each one of your lewd actions. his shirt came off first and your eyes widened as big as saucers to see the rippling muscles on his tanned skin. his nimble fingers work quick, pulling his sweats by the waistband to reveal his lengthy cock.

any semblance of sanity abandoned you at the sight of kuroo tetsurou. he was toned, everywhere from his sturdy, bulging biceps to the tantalizing v-line. his thighs were defined, with muscles rippling beneath the skin. a gasp of disbelief left you as you scanned him up and down, "you look... good?" you shook your head, "for a nerd, i mean."

"thanks." he smiled, surprisingly smug, "i play volleyball, so um, maybe it's that."

you licked your glossy lips, "maybe."

your eyes traveled from his hazel eyes to his weeping cock. god, it was pretty. all lengthy and girthy, with veins lining it like lightning. his tip was flushed, red and embarrassed as it weeped out wisps of clear pre. your trembling thighs parted, eyes regarding his with suffocating lust, "c'mere."

his body circled over yours, his palm grabbing his heavy cock to line your entrance. his chest stuttered, thighs flexing as the crown of his tip kissed your warm entrance. shuddering, he groaned, "i— 's so warm."

his hand shook, his length trembling with it as he attempted to sink inside your velvety warmth. your hand grabbed a hold of his length gingerly, you thumbed his achy mushroom tip. kuroo bit his lip as you slowly guided him in. your snug pussy swallowed him graciously, taking in inch after inch with surprising ease.

"haah— jus' like that." your jaw hung open, his cock penetrating you fuller. by the time he was sheathed inside you, you could feel his bulbous tip kiss your cervix. your arms came to circle his neck, your thighs came to circle his waist. he steadied his beefy arms on either side of your head and moved slowly. you raked your nails through his scalp, "just move slowly now."

kuroo took a steadying breath and reeled his pelvis back. you awaited the gentle thwaps! of his toned lower abs against the back of your thighs. instead, kuroo smacked his body into yours with all his force. your entire body jiggled, eyes blowing wide open as he fucked into you hard.

"k-kuroo—!?" you squealed, feeling him drive his cock into you with such fervor. his tip hit the bullseye with every stroke, his thick cock massaged your sensitive walls and your clit fluttered with each harsh slap of his skin against yours. your eyes rolled backwards, arms tightening against his neck, "k-kuroo... fuck, f-fuck—! slow down, slowdown."

he buried his face in your crook, the cool metal frame of his glass was cold against your overheated skin. you moaned loudly, squeezing your cunt snugly against his length as his canines punctured an indent on top of your pulse. tears welled up in your eyes, the stimulation was too much. way too much. everything was driving you insane. everything! from the fast drivels of his cock inside you, to the way he nibbed on your sensitive skin, to the way the tufts of his pubes tickled against your skin, or the way his hot skin smacked into your sensitive clit. unable to contain yourself, you scratched down his back, "ku-roo! fuck, fuck fuck— ngghh! hah, right there—!"

you were losing your sanity with each powerful pound into your pussy. the abyss in your stomach came back with vengeance — consuming everything from your lower stomach to the top of your spine. your entire skin tingled with the anticipation of an orgasm. you weren't sane anymore. you couldn't censor your thoughts anymore. holding onto him tighter, you screamed, "fu-fuuuck imgonnacum! i—" your chest tightened, eyes rolling to the back of your skull, "cummin', cummin', haaa—!?!"

he lifted his flushed face up from your neck, groaning at the sight of you. hot tears steamed down your face, taking down clumps of mascara with it. your kissbitten lips were swollen and red. blotches of red had broken over your entire face and neck. you looked like he had ruined you. wrecked you. "you're cumming—?!"

you nodded, uncaring for your pride or status. "f-fuck. yes, yes— ngghhh... yes. cumminnn~"

he grunted in disbelief, "y-you're gonna cum on my cock...?"

you nodded again, gaze bleary with a tear-stained face, "y-yes, on your cock—!" you couldn't even manage another word before a violent orgasm crashed into you. your entire body shook, vision going white and body going slack. a stream of squirt poured out of your trembling pussy, soaking kuroo's thighs and abs. he kept fucking into you, even as you clawed and cried for him to stop.

"f-fuck, fuck, fuck." each word sounded more desperate than the last, his thrusts grew more erratic as he snapped his pelvis up to yours. "shit— im gonna cum?!"

he barely pulled out in time, with his cock spurting out a thick load of cum on your soaked thigh. his fluids mixed with your own, tainting your skin with him. he looked at you sprawled on his bed. your eyes were clenched shut, face red and chest heaving. your body seemed to still be weathering the aftershocks of your orgasm. the juncture of your thighs was a mess — creamy rings of sex, with your squirt and his cum swirling into one huge mess that dripped down to his bedsheet.

kuroo sat on his knees, panting. you cracked open your eyes, opening your arms to beckon him to lie atop you. he followed, gingerly resting his big, broad body on top of yours. you felt his muscles press against your syrupy, soft skin.

kuroo buried his head into your neck again and closed his eyes, his tongue came out to lick a stripe of your perspiration. he groaned, "y-you're so sweet."

a hollow laugh left you by, "thanks."

his bed was too small for you to lie comfortably next to each other. so, kuroo manhandled you, slipping on his back so you could rest on top of him. his chest rose and fell with yours, and you felt your eyes droop down with exhaustion.

kuroo pushed your sweaty locks out of your face and smiled, "uh... you came right?"

you inhaled, shakily, readying yourself for the humiliation that was to come next. you couldn't deny it now, not after how you had screamed his name and marked his back. "yeah, i did."

kuroo smiled wider, "w-was it good?"

"yeah." you met his eyes, hardening your gaze, "but if you tell anyone about this, I'll fucking kill you."

"that... that i made you cum?" his brows furrowed. you nodded, "yeah. that. i have a reputation to maintain. can't be associated with..." you stalled your words and he chimed in. "a nerd?"

you rested your cheek against his chest, curling into his warmth. under you, he rose and fell softly. you mumbled into his skin, "something like that."

"i get it." kuroo played with your strands and you find yourself keening into his soft actions. "i won't say a word. i won't tell anyone that i probably made you cum like four times today."

your head shot up, lips parting and eyes widening. a nervous laughter shot out of you. "w-what?"

kuroo gave you a lazy smile, still playing with your loose hair, "did you think I'd do my research and leave out female orgasms? i knew you came. i mean it was obvious from the second time onwards."

he knew you were lying all this time?!

you blinked and he admitted, "i just wanted to hear you admit it." you blinked at him again and he grinned, "don't worry, i won't tell anyone. it's a secret between us."

"r-right...?"

"but this means that we can keep doing this, right?"

kuroo's broad palm rubbed up and down your back, trailing to your ass where he cupped and massaged it. you bit down your smudged lip, "i guess so."

"so, another round?"

a.n: NOT PROOFREAD. BACK INTO WRITING WITH MY BABY KUROO! this is my first time writing him and this may or may not have been influenced by that one post that said that "kuroo is not a playboy. he's the sweetest boy." sooo yeah. hope you enjoy the nasties mwuah mwuah. old m.list | new m.list

[aveocadeo]

can we pls!!! have more law?? i love how you write him !!! maybe something like your chess piece works but the reader joins the straw hats instead ? it could be nice !! anyway as long as there law and pining it would be nice. regardless i’ve been listening to buckle by florence and the machine and it reminded me of how you write law angst

a/n: Thank you for enjoying the angsty fics of Law hehe. It's been a while since I last wrote angst, but I hope you'll enjoy this one (also I gave the song a listen and goddamn it was so good)!

It wasn't meant to be. [Trafalgar Law x Straw Hat! gn! reader]

tags: trafalgar law x reader, gn! reader, straw hat pirate! reader, angst and just pure angst, former heart pirate! reader, (no part 2).

ave's corner of masterlist

Some people met Trafalgar Law and decided they had seen enough. You met Trafalgar Law and decided you wanted to understand him.

It wasn't bravery, not really. Bravery implied fear and the choice to move anyway. You just didn't have the luxury of fear. Not after the things you had survived, nor after the way the sea had taught you that hesitation could be its own kind of death.

Law looked like a man carved out of caution: His sharp eyes, the sharp mouth and a silence that carried the weight of decisions he had already made about you before you even spoke.

The first time you crossed paths, he didn't even bother with a greeting. He watched you like you were a loose thread on a coat he didn't want to unravel.

"You're alone", he said flatly. You were leaning against the dock railing as the salt wind was tangling your hair. You just shrugged as it didn't matter that you were alone. "For now".

Law's gaze flicked over your posture. The way you kept the weapons close. The way you stood like you were ready to run or fight or even laugh. Whatever came first.

"That's not sustainable".

"Is that medical advice?" you asked deadpanned. Something in his expression twitched. It didn't seem like a smile, but rather more like your words had hooked under his ribs and pulled. It was just enough for him to notice he still had them.

"Don't waste my time", he muttered.

You should had walked away. Any sensible pirate would have. Law was the kind of person you kept at a safe distance just to admire the legend and not getting close enough to learn what was underneath.

But you had never been good at safe distance.

"Okay", you said as you pushed yourself off the railing. "Then don't waste time. What do you want?"

Law's eyes narrowed. "I didn't say I wanted anything".

"But you're still standing here", you pointed out. "So you either want something or you got nothing better to do", you said. His stare sharpened like he was deciding whether you were annoying enough to cut.

Then in a slow and precise tone, he said: "You're reckless".

You lifted your brows. "And you're nosy".

And for a moment, the space between you sparked with something that felt like two blades being tested for balance. You didn't join his crew. Not then.

It wasn't like Law invited you openly anyway. He wasn't the type to extend a hand to someone annoying like you. If he wanted you somewhere, he would arrange the board so you ended up there.

You learned quickly that Law spoke in angles. In consequences and half-truths that still somehow landed like an anchor. He didn't ask if you were hungry, but he made sure there was food near you. He didn't ask if you were injured, but he stepped in close enough to see the bruises you tried to hide.

He didn't ask if you wanted to stay. He just made leaving feel... complicated.

It started small like a choice here or a suggestion there. It was like 'I need you to do this' spoken like it was necessity instead of preference.

And you were tired. You were moving with no direction, chasing a freedom that sometimes felt suspiciously like loneliness. So, against your better judgment, you let him place you where he wanted.

You told yourself it was only temporary. You told yourself you could leave whenever you wanted. You told yourself you weren't the kind of person who could be owned.

But Law's world was efficient. His crew moved like a machine that knew its own rhythm. He didn't promise you warmth or kindness like he promised you purpose. And in the quiet of a world where everything tried to swallow you, purpose tasted like survival.

The first time you realised you had become a piece on his board was the day he sent you ahead.

It was just a small island with a small job. A "simple" task with too many variables. You stood on the deck of the Polar Tang with arms folded against the wind. "This feels like a setup", you mumbled.

Law's gaze stayed on the horizon. "It's not".

"That's not reassuring".

"It's not meant to be", he said. You hated how calm he sounded as if danger was just another number to account for.

You narrowed your eyes. "So what am I to you? Disposable?"

That was when he finally looked at you directly. Properly. The air felt heavier under the weight of his attention. "No", he said.

It was just one word that was firm and absolute.

Still, he didn't want to give you an explanation to why. He didn't soften. He didn't tell you what you were. Only that you weren't.

You went anyway, because you were still trying to prove something. You wanted to prove to him, to yourself and to the sea that had never offered you anything without demanding blood in return.

The job ended up going in the wrong direction. Of course, because it always did when it was you.

It wasn't catastrophically. It was luckily not enough to kill you. It was just enough to remind you that you weren't in control, so when you returned with mud on your boots and a cut splitting your lip, you found Law waiting.

He wasn't pacing or being frantic. He just stood there in the same spot you had left him. His eyes flicked to the blood.

"Sit", he ordered but you only scoffed. "I'm fine".

Law stepped closer and you could feel the temperature around you two drop. "Sit".

You weren't sure why your body obeyed before your pride could argue. He worked in silence, cleaning the wound with efficient hands. His fingers were steady and warm. He was too careful for someone who insisted he didn't care.

You watched him from under your lashes. "If you're worried about losing me, you can just say that".

Law's jaw tightened. "I'm not worried".

"You're literally holding my face", you said. His hands paused. The air held its breath.

And for a second, you thought he might pull away and retreat back behind that wall of detachment. Instead, he leaned in the slightest fraction with a low voice. "Stop talking".

"Make me", you murmured. You didn't mean it like a challenge, but rather a question. It just got Law's eyes to darken sharply like a scalpel.

Then he released you abruptly, like touching you too long would cost him something. "Get out", he said flatly.

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Rest", he corrected like he hadn't just sent your pulse into a sprint. "Before you bleed on my deck".

You stared at him, trying to search for the edge of emotion he refused to show you. He gave you none.

So you just left with a thundering heart, anger and something softer tangled together so tight you couldn't separate them now. That was how it always went with Law. You would get close enough to feel heat, then he would shove you back into the cold.

You started to wonder if that was the only way he knew how to keep you safe. Or was it the only way he knew to keep himself from wanting you?

Then the Straw Hats happened.

They crashed into your life the way a storm crashed into a coastline. They were loud, unstoppable and somehow filled with sunlight.

You met them on a port island during a day that began with gunfire and ended with laughter. Luffy grinned at you like you were an old friend he had simply forgotten to meet sooner.

"You're strong!" he said like that was the most important thing in the world. "Wanna sail with us?"

You stared at him while being startled by the simplicity. There was no manipulation. No angles. No unspoken debts.

It was just an invitation.

You was taking a look at the crew in front of you that was doing different actions at the same time. Nami sized you up like she could smell lies. Zoro appeared half-asleep, but looked like he was ready to fight the universe. Usopp tried to impress you and nearly fell off a barrel. Sanji offered you food with a flourish and Chopper asked if you were hurt. Robin watched you with quiet curiosity as you saw Franky from the ship waving arms everywhere.

And you felt something you hadn't felt in a long time.

It wasn't purpose. It was belonging.

Law didn't say anything when you told him. You found him alone in the quiet corner of the ship as usual. "I'm leaving", you said.

His eyes moved to you slowly. "No".

You sighed, because it felt like this wasn't the first time his reply was just 'No'. "That's not how that works".

Law's gaze sharpened. "You'll get yourself killed".

"Probably", you nodded in agreement. "But at least it'll be my choice", you said.

His silence was a weapon inside the room. It was heavy and sharp. "You're making a mistake", he said at last.

You just exhaled slowly. "Maybe, but I'm tired of being... managed", you breathed out weakly as if those words were finally out after fighting against the world.

His eyes flicked once. It was like the word landed somewhere tender now. "I never-".

"You did", you cut in with a steadier voice now even though your chest was aching. "You don't have to say it for it to be true. You made decisions around me. You put me where you wanted and you used me like I was part of your plan", you said.

It made his jaw to tighten. The muscle in his face went rigid, like he was holding back something violent.

"You were safer with me", he said it quietly in the way it sounded controlling. It was almost worse than shouting.

You swallowed. "Safe isn't the same as happy".

For a second, Law looked like he wanted to argue. Then he looked just tired. It was like he had always known he couldn't keep you, but he had wanted to try anyway. "You're not a Straw Hat", he said.

You just gave him a small smile. "Not yet".

When you turned to leave, his voice caught you like a hook. "If you go", he started to say lowly, "Don't come back".

You stopped in your tracks. It wasn't because you agreed. It was because the words sounded like they hurt him to say. You didn't look back. If you did, you might had stayed, but you promised yourself that you would stop letting other people move you around like a tide.

So you walked away. You didn't let the sea swallow you this time as you were welcomed by the Straw Hats as if you had always been theirs. It was like the ship had been waiting for your footsteps.

Luffy declared you a part of the crew with the same certainty he used to declare war on impossible odds.

Nami gave you tasks and trust in equal measure.

Zoro sparred with you without holding back like you deserved to be taken seriously for once.

Sanji was feeding you like he was trying to heal every hungry part of you.

Chopper fussed over your bruises and smiled when you called him "doctor".

Robin spoke to you in quiet corners, which made you feel understood without having to bleed your story onto the deck.

Franky and Usopp wanted your ideas to different stuff, from weapons to ship upgrades.

You laughed more. You slept deeper. You finally stopped checking over your shoulder every time the air shifted. And yet-

At night, you sometimes felt the shape of Law's gaze on you like a phantom limb.

Then came the day he returned. It wasn't dramatic at first. He was just a shadow on the horizon like a shape cutting through the waves like a blade.

The Polar Tang surfaced nearby with a precision that made Nami's fingers twitch toward her weapon. Law boarded without permission with his coat fluttering and eyes scanning the deck like he was already measuring every possible outcome.

The Straw Hats bristled when he appeared on the deck. Even Luffy tilted his head in curiosity that was tangled with suspicion.

You just stood still.

Law's eyes found you instantly. It was like nothing else mattered at that moment. Like the board had always led him back to you. "You look...", he started to say but it sounded like he didn't wanted to let out that specific word he wanted to continue with.

"Alive?" you said as you lifted your brows.

"Annoyingly so", he said.

You snorted despite yourself and for a moment the tension eased just enough for your heart to betray you with the past memories. How it felt to trade words like blades with him.

"Why are you here?" you asked.

Law's gaze flicked away as he said: "Alliance".

Luffy instantly grinned like alliances were toys. "Sure!" he agreed with excitement. Nami just groaned in slight annoyance as she disagreed with her captain.

Law ignored them as usual like background noise and his attention returned to you. "You shouldn't be here", he said.

You crossed your arms. "You already used that line".

"It's still true", he said.

"And I'm still not leaving", you told him. Law stared at you for a long beat as the air between you thickened. It felt familiar. Then he looked away again like looking at you too long might crack something open.

The alliance meant he stayed. Not with you all fully, but he was close enough to the ship that you could feel him circling the edges of your days.

He watched you with them. With your crew.

He saw you the way you laughed when Usopp exaggerated a story. He saw the way you leaned into Nami's shoulder when the sea turned rough. He saw the way Luffy dragged you into chaos and you followed like you had been born for it.

And something in Law's expression tightened each time. It wasn't anger exactly, but rather something like longing.

You found him on the deck of Polar Tang staring at the stars like they had answers to all of his questions. The sea was calmer than usual like the kind of calm that felt like it was holding its breath. You stepped closer, but he didn't turn when he seemed to notice your presence. He didn't tell you to leave either.

"Still watching me?" you asked lightly. Law's voice was quiet. "You're loud", he said.

"You're dramatic", you countered.

There was a pause. Then his tone softened as he said: "You're... different".

You were now staring at him. "Different... How?"

Law's hands tightened on the rail. "Lighter".

You swallowed as if the word was settling in your chest like something precious. Then you just let out a chuckle. "Yeah", you admitted, "They do that".

He didn't respond to that. His silence was heavy again, but it wasn't the same kind of heavy as before. This silence felt vulnerable like if you pushed too hard, it would break.

So you didn't push any further. You just stood beside him with your shoulder almost brushing his.

After a minute, Law spoke again. "Why them?"

You let the question sit between you as if you let the sea answer first. "Because they don't ask me to shrink", you said finally after letting the answer marinate in honesty. "They don't move me around like I'm a problem to solve. They just... take me as I am".

His head turned slightly over to you. "And with me?" he asked, his voice quieter than the waves.

Your throat tightened. "With you", you said carefully, "I always felt like I was one wrong step away from being discarded. Or controlled. Or... kept".

Law flinched like the word cut him deep. You continued anyway, because you promised yourself you would stop swallowing truths to make other people comfortable.

"You care", you said. "In your way, but your way can also make people feel like tools".

His breath came out slow. "I didn't mean to-".

"I know", you whispered. That was the cruelest part. Law wasn't cruel for fun. He wasn't heartless because he didn't have one. He had just learned to survive by controlling everything he could. It was because the things he couldn't control had once taken everything from him.

And you... you were uncontrollable.

You turned your head and looked out at the sea again. "I'm not mad at you. Not anymore. I just... needed something else", you said.

It was hurting you both when his voice came out quietly: "And you found it".

You nodded with a small smile. "But that doesn't mean you don't matter, Law".

The silence after that was so thick you almost felt like you could drown in it. When you finally looked at him, he was staring at you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

His eyes were dark and sharp now, but there was something else there too. Something raw. It was something he didn't know how to name.

He stepped closer. It wasn't enough to touch, just enough that you felt his warmth. "You were never disposable", he said softly. "You were important".

Your heart stuttered. "Then why did you treat me like a plan?" you asked without sparing any breath. Law's lips parted like he had a dozen answers and hated all of them.

Because if he admitted you weren't a piece, he would have to admit you could leave.

If he admitted he wanted you, he would have to admit you could refuse.

Wanting someone meant giving them power and Law hated giving anyone power.

"I didn't know how to keep you", the honesty in it was brutal. "So I tried to... place you. Where I thought you'd survive".

You stared at him and he just kept going like a cracked dam. He couldn't stop the flood now. "You don't understand what it's like", he said as his voice was tightening, "To watch someone you-".

He cut himself off with a noticeable clenched jaw now.

"To watch someone you what?" you whispered back to him.

Law's eyes snapped to yours. There it was: that split-second where the mask slipped. It was where the storm showed you the lightning inside.

Then he exhaled sharply like he was furious with himself. "This is pointless", he clicked with his tongue and turned around like he was going to leave.

Suddenly instinct moved you before you could even make a thought. You caught his sleeve which made his body freeze. The contact was small, but it felt like a spark in dry grass.

Law looked down at your hand like it was something dangerous. Then he looked at you which made something in his expression to soften just enough to make your chest ache.

"I didn't come here to drag you back", he said quietly. "I know I can't".

You swallowed. "Good".

He nodded, almost imperceptible. Then, in a softer tone, so soft that you didn't even think Law had in him: "I came to make sure you were real".

Your grip tightened. "I'm real".

Law's gaze flicked to your mouth, then back to your eyes like he was fighting himself. "Say you're not going to die", he muttered like it was a command. You just gave him a sad smile.

"That's not something anyone can promise", you said. His eyes hardened, but the fear beneath it betrayed him.

You stepped closer and your breath could touch his cheek now. "Law", you said gently, "I'm not yours to keep, but I'm also not someone you have to lose".

His breath hitched. He looked like he wanted to argue. Like he wanted to deny the softness, the want and the vulnerability. Instead, he did something that shocked you.

He leaned forward.

Just slightly.

His forehead nearly brushing yours. It felt like a confession without words. It was like a question without sound.

For a moment, you thought he might close the distance. For a moment, hope flared.

Then he stopped completely. Something in his expression shifted. It was subtle. Slowly and deliberately, he pulled away from you as the space between you two returned.

You didn't chase him and didn't ask him why. It was probably because you understood.

Law exhaled low and steady as if grounding himself. His eyes met yours again. It wasn't guarded this time. It was just tired in a way that spoke of long nights and heavier thoughts.

"I just needed to see you, that's all", he said.

Not missed. Not wanted. Just see.

You nodded. "I figured", you replied softly.

The corners of his mouth twitched. It wasn't quite a smile, but something gentler than his usual restraint. It was something honest. "You look... well", he added.

"I am", you said and this time it wasn't a defense. The silence settled between you in a comfortable way that surprised you both. It wasn't awkward or painful. Just aware.

The sea rolled quietly around you two. "You chose right", Law cut the silence with a few words.

You tilted your head. "You don't sound bitter".

"I'm not", he answered and for once, you believed him. "Some paths aren't meant to cross forever".

You studied him: the familiar sharp lines, the calm control, the man who had once tried to keep you safe by placing you where he thought you belonged.

And now he stood here, letting you go without asking you to return to him.

"That doesn't make them meaningless", you said.

Law met your gaze. "No".

The word carried weight. It was more understanding. It was acceptance.

You took a step back. It wasn't to leave, but to give both of you room to breathe. Law didn't reach for you. He didn't stop you, but he didn't look away either.

When you turned toward the Sunny and the sounds of your crew drifted across the water, you paused once while glancing back. Law was still there with his coat stirring in the breeze, watching you with an expression you would carry with you long after the distance grew.

It wasn't regret. It wasn't longing. It was just something quietly precious.

As you crossed back to your ship, Law remained where he was. He had not come to take you back. He had not come to change your choice. He had only come to see you. To know you were real and safe. That the sea had not taken you from him.

And as the ships drifted apart once more, the space between them felt less like loss and more like understanding.

Some connections didn't end white. They simply learned how to exist at a distance.

And for now... That was enough.

@/2025 ave

[wing-ed-thing]

God Spelled Backwards is D-O-C-T-O-R (Trafalgar Law x Reader, Chapter XV)

Synopsis: Dr. Trafalgar Law is the brilliant, cold, new electrophysiologist fresh out of residency with something to prove. He wasted no time in singling you out as you battle his unyielding demands and an overbooked schedule with non-existent back up. Your dynamic goes beyond professional tension, and in a hospital where boundaries are protocol, and protocol is gold, it’s an all out fight for power and control.

Word Count: 8.5k

Tags/Warnings: Minors DNI, CardiacElectrophysiologist!Law, EchoTech!Reader, AFABFEM!Reader, Modern Hospital AU, Language, Enemies to Lovers, Victim-Blaming, Assault Investigation

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 Chapter XIV

You were beginning to get somewhat used to Syrup. Kaya always kept the breakrooms stocked with specialty coffee flavors. The waiting areas were spacious (though it would have been a bigger plus at a busier location), and there were always fun mints at the checkout desk. But damn, Syrup was freezing. 

Your fingers clung to your probe, trying to squeeze out any sort of heat you could leech out of the little device. The air in the room almost felt as though someone had turned on the air conditioning, and you couldn’t imagine being bare-chested.

You offered the patient extra praise, trying to move as efficiently as possible. 

“Another breath for me. Hold… and exhale.” 

You adjusted the probe. You pressed the foot pedal to capture, then clicked to freeze the frame. Measured. 

You paused, staring at the image, which, by all means, was passable. But the longer you lingered on the frame, the more something seemed… off. Your eyes were glued to the screen as you moved your probe back into place. 

“Deep breath,” you instructed, pressing the foot pedal again. 

You adjusted your angle, then your depth. You went down the abstract list of techniques in your head, eliminating possibilities one by one, like checking off boxes. 

Artifact? No, the shadow moved with the structure. Rib dropout? You reangled again, and it was still there. Gain too high? You turned it down. Still there. 

You unconsciously moved closer to the screen, your eyes narrowed, and your lips pursed.

“Breathe in again,” you breathed, your eyes not leaving the monitor. 

The patient complied, and you froze the frame mid-cycle and advanced frame by frame. 

There it is. 

It was a flicker along the wall, a shape that looked too rigid to be normal muscle, yet too subtle to notice unless you were looking for it. You switched to apical, then subcostal, instinct taking over. Your foot waved the pedal like a pianist, moving in sync with the quick motions of your fingers. 

You cycled through your Rolodex of knowledge, cycling through diagnoses as you took in information. For a moment, something inside you sparked to life for the first time in a long while. 

You stilled your probe, hitting the exact angle with barely a twitch of your fingers. You stared at the screen, a hint of a self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. Because there it was. The septum was just slightly asymmetric. Subclinical. 

You saved the frame and then saved it again for good measure. 

You didn’t need a nameplate on your door or letters after your name. 

You didn’t need HR's permission to be good at this.

***

“Got a live one for ya in three,” Shachi called as soon as Franky stepped out of a room. 

Franky’s eyes fluttered closed, his lips pursing. 

“Fuck,” he cursed to himself. He shook his head and blinked as he began pushing his cart to the next room. “How the hell does she do this every day?”  

He’d tried to keep things relatively optimistic, taking as much control of his schedule as he could. The change in staffing had come with a departmental meeting in place of the monthly QC meeting, where Franky had the opportunity to spitball a new way of doing things. Combined with his own research into how affairs had been operating so far and some suggestions from Hogback, Franky thought he’d have things under control.

“Up until recently,” Hogback had said in the meeting, “I understand that our imaging department was making personal trips to specific pods rather than using the imaging exam rooms. I believe this would be more streamlined.” 

That idea lasted for a full half day. The teams were less than thrilled at the prospect of taking additional time out of their day to cart patients down to imaging. Franky soon got overrun, juggling rooming by himself while popping back into the office to update statuses. Patients were less than enthusiastic about the wait times. It had all become one long process that landed Franky exactly where leadership was trying to keep him out of: individual doctors’ pods, somehow closer to one another than to imaging. 

Just as Franky was about to move on to the next room, he heard his name, “Mr. Cutty!” 

He turned instinctively to see Hogback hurrying down the hall. Hogback moved in a frantic shuffle that might have resembled a slow jog if he had ever been one to enjoy a brisk walk now and then. He waved a hand toward Franky, and by the time he finally stopped in front of him, Hogback was already out of breath.

The skin of his face had turned red as he huffed and puffed, heaving as he dug a finger into the collar of his shirt. 

“I hate to interrupt, but your skills are needed elsewhere,” Hogback huffed. 

Franky’s forehead scrunched. “Uh, is it urgent, Hog Doc? Because I’m making my way down the schedule as fast as I can—“

A nearby door swung open, and Law morphed into the doorway—ever one to sniff out bullshit, especially when it happened in his hall. Law’s narrowed gaze found Hogback immediately, and a deep scowl settled on his lips. 

“What’s going on?” Law simmered. 

“I need to borrow Mr. Cutty.” 

By this point, Hogback had already regained his breath and straightened himself as he placed a clammy palm on the edge of Franky’s cart. 

Law let the patient’s door shut behind him, his frown deepening. His typically arrogant exterior had long since melted into barely contained anger, a feeling shared by all the personnel on the floor. 

“No,” Law said curtly. “You’ve been ‘borrowing’ him ever since he was transferred. He’s needed here.”

“It’s urgent,” Hogback hummed, a polite smile on his lips.

Law’s eyes darkened as he studied Hogback’s forced pleasantries. His lips parted in consideration. “How urgent?” he gritted. 

“The rest of us have research to do, too, not just you, Dr. Trafalgar.” Hogback let out an all-too-boisterous laugh, one that made the heads of passing patients and techs turn at the sound. “Although I do know you’re still new around here.” He continued to grin with a sickly sweetness. 

“You’re pulling him for research?” Law’s jaw tightened, his eye twitching. “I can’t allow you to pull my technician away from patients—”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Hogback tsked, shaking his head slowly, as if he’d already achieved some sort of victory. “Mr. Cutty isn’t your tech, Doctor, but a resource for the entire department.”

And before Law could argue—and, God, was he ready to argue—

“I’ve blocked off the rest of the day for my projects, you know, as a senior physician and all. The annual conference is just around the corner, you know.” Hogback boasted. “It was on the shared calendar in the new physicians' folder. I figured your clinic would be fine, considering you have two staff members who I’m sure can perform imaging to your… standards.” 

Franky parted his lips to speak, but Law was too quick.

“My staff aren’t dedicated imaging technicians and their skills are needed elsewhere,” he simmered, “You can’t—“

“This was approved by Dr. Saturn. If you have an issue with the way he runs his department, take it up with him,” Hogback snapped, letting the slightest crack in his cordial demeanor show through. But as quickly as he pulled rank, he reeled himself back, shoulders squared and hands clasped in front of him. “Now then…” 

Hogback turned toward Franky, who’d been fascinated with the tile floor since the argument began. Hogback urged Franky to follow, and with an apologetic glance toward Law, Franky complied. 

Law was left to watch as they disappeared down the hall. 

T-minus 35 days until the conference. 

***

Staffing changes or not, Law’s clinic continued on. From first thing in the morning to the evening, Dr. Trafalgar Law saw patients like a revolving door. Only…

“Cap’n?” Shachi chimed from somewhere behind him. “The patient in Room 206 is getting a little… restless. Her appointment was at noon, and it’s almost four.” 

Law continued two paces down the hall, then stopped before turning around with a shake of his head. His hand threaded through his dark hair. 

“I know—I know. Tell her I’ll be there in ten,” he muttered with another head shake. 

It wouldn’t be ten. He’d forget and it would be an hour. 

Law braced his laptop in the crook of his elbow, knocking on a different exam room door before letting himself in. But the exam chair was empty. Law scowled, backing up a step to glance at the doorframe, only to find a lack of magnets and papers. 

“That’s a workup room, Cap,” Penguin said warily, as if he was almost afraid to point it out. “Your next patient is in 209.” 

“Would you like me to reschedule some of your afternoon?” Bepo poked his head out from the pod. “You’re not gonna make it.” 

Heat rose under Law’s collar, making his already fitted button-up feel clammy. He tried to breathe slowly and steadily, clawing for any ounce of composure he could muster. His head was nearly spinning as he crunched the array of moving parts on his plate. Images. Charts. Diagnosis. 

“Don’t move anyone,” Law commanded. “We’re going to make it.” 

He’d left your text on read. He’d left your text on read for a while. In a moment of distraction from his work, the little bubble waved at him.

How are things at main?

He’d read it shortly after he’d received it. In fact, Law read it a few times. 

How are things at main?

How are things at main?

The text crossed his mind multiple times a day. Between his meetings with half the administrative team. During his time in clinic. 

He wanted to respond, but every time his fingers sat poised above the keyboard, he ended up pocketing his phone again before moving on to the next fire that needed to be put out. Because for once, ever-collected Trafalgar Law was the slightest bit frazzled. 

Very few things had the potential to whip him up into such a frenzy. His journey through med school, fellowship, and residency hadn’t made him to sweat. But it was something about an institution where corruption was happening over his head that made him restless. If he were being honest, it wasn’t even the corruption part that got to him. No, it was the over his head that made his eye twitch. 

Law was worse without you around. Perhaps the rounds of verbal fisticuffs he had with you in the halls served as a buffer of sorts, saving everyone else from the pressure that seemed to mount the longer the clinic ran. 

“When I place an order, I expect it to be carried out as specified,” Law snapped. He didn’t even know the tech's name. Some new personnel or a float. “I shouldn’t have to double-check basic tasks. Fix it.”

Law revolved in and out of doors, working his way down the schedule. Thoughts about the investigation and office politics swirled in his head, no matter how hard he struggled to tamp them down. Law wouldn’t pretend he couldn’t feel the mounting pressure that came with the upcoming conference. And then, there was you, stranded in Syrup. 

Perhaps you were the embodiment of it all. You were the key to his research case. Almost all of his patients had passed through your hands. And then there was the investigation. 

He didn’t know what the chances were that HR would ask for your phone logs and messages. He could imagine the texts laid out on some conference room table while Rob Fucking Lucci asked him to “give the context some more detail.”

But that couldn’t have been the real reason. No, when Law thought about it, the caution about keeping your communication limited and private rang hollow. 

Keeping his distance felt safer. Whether it was supposed to feel safer for him or for you, he wasn’t quite sure. You’d been cut off from the rest of the North. You had no idea what was happening at the main campus, and after all you’d been through, maybe you deserved to finally rest from what everyone else was saying. 

It was a fleeting thought he had, one wrapped up in guilt. It was the same attitude that kept him passive. He should have done more. He should have stepped in sooner. He should have said something before any of this happened instead of passively standing by.

But even if he could find it in him to type back—even if he kept everything that was happening away from you—what would he even say?

The situation I got you into is unpleasant. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. 

Sorry, I’ve been fighting so hard for you to make up for all the times I didn’t?

He wouldn’t put that on you. Not when he couldn’t put it into words without sounding self-serving. Not when you were already carrying the weight of something that wasn’t yours to bear. 

It didn’t seem fair, but then again, keeping you in the dark again didn’t seem fair either. 

And then, a notification.

The referral caught his eye as he was skimming his in-basket. 

A referral from Syrup. From Kaya. 

Out of all the doctors and all the locations that have ever referred patients for electrophysiology, Kaya was a name he’d never expected to see. 

“Pt: [Redacted] — new-onset wall thickening on echo. Referred to EP per imaging recs.”

That was all Law needed to see. Law set aside his current task to review every recent file related to this patient. His eyes darted across your scans. Prestine. Your name looked so familiar next to the examiner's label.

“Noted concentric wall thickening,” was all your note said. 

That’s all it could say.

But that’s all it needed to say. 

It was something about those four words that drew the breath from Law’s lungs, a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. His hands rubbed the side of his nose, roughly massaging the muscles under his eye. He took another breath in and out, with a light chuckle. Law shook his head to himself. Here he was slowly losing his cool while you were excelling in a way he knew only you could, given the circumstances. 

Another breath in, then out. 

Law scooped up his laptop and exited his office for the pod. He swiped a few words on his phone’s keyboard. 

“Alright, everyone,” he called, snapping a few heads to attention. Law stood at the entrance to the pod, eyes flickering over the gathered staff as he shook his head a few times. “We’re going to try something a little different.”

Law’s phone sat in the pocket of his coat. Just behind the black screen were the words.

“Busy. How’s Syrup?”

***

Clinic went long, but what else was new? The team managed to recover from the morning by the time the afternoon began to trickle in. And while they experienced their fair share of complications and patients piled up waiting for one thing or another, Dr. Trafalgar’s team managed not to be the last to leave the building that day. 

They had just a handful left on the schedule, each patient simply waiting to see Law in their respective rooms, and Law was knocking the appointments out one by one with record efficiency. Five became four, and then four became two…

“Dr. Trafalgar.”

Law almost did a double-take as he turned. Sanji stood at the end of the hall, a laptop and a bundle of files tucked under his arm. He jabbed a thumb in the general direction of Law’s office. 

“Got a second?” he asked. 

Law glanced at his team, each of whom was waiting for his word. They had a rough start, and with the game of catch-up they’d all been playing, he was sure they were just as exhausted as he was. 

“I’ll be back in less than a minute,” he asserted, briskly walking toward Sanji like some sort of force of nature in a white coat. 

Sanji kept a neutral expression, frowning slightly as he watched Law approach. 

“You have a hell of a sense of timing,” Law gritted. 

Sanji frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want my help or not?” he snarked, shoving the bundle against Law’s chest. “You’re welcome.”

Law glanced down wordlessly, schlepping the ensemble onto his laptop, his fingers tabbing through it all. The bundle comprised neatly arranged papers in folders, along with a few envelopes. It was a thick collection, but nowhere near as much as Law had hoped for. A few drives were taped to discrete pockets. 

Law’s gaze shot up. “Is this really everything?” he asked. 

Sanji scoffed, his brows bouncing in acute disbelief. His mouth fell open for a moment as he glanced away, almost as if he were looking for someone to confirm the sheer audacity he’d just been subjected to. 

“No, it’s not,” he huffed incredulously, “I’ll have you know that these things take time.” 

“Well, we don’t have a lot of that,” Law snapped. 

For a moment, Sanji didn’t say a word. He let Law’s harshness hang in the air. Sanji’s chest rose and fell quietly. Silent, but his frown didn’t dissipate. 

“I hate them too,” he finally said. “And I hate what they did to your friend. To her.”

Sanji watched as Law’s gaze seemed to darken at the mere mention of what happened. He seemed to lose track for a split second. Then, a breath. 

“I wish I hit them harder,” Law hissed out, his jaw tightening at the thought. 

“I wish I were there to hit them, period,” Sanji affirmed, taking a step forward. He leaned close, jabbing a finger at Law’s chest. “But I wasn’t. And I want to make one thing incredibly clear: I’m not here to help you. And I’m sure as hell not here so you can act like you’re the only one who’s pissed.” 

Sanji took another step back to regain his composure. He jerked his shoulders to adjust his coat. 

“Take a look at those.” Sanji pointed at the bundle, the edge of his voice melting away. “There’s a lot more where that came from, but you’ll have to wait while I collect it all. Someone has to sort through the camera footage from that night…” 

Sanji didn’t say another word as he departed, wanting nothing more than to get out of Law’s hall.

“It better be airtight,” Law called after him.

Sanji didn’t answer. Law didn’t wait for him to answer.

He walked briskly to his office, fishing his keys out of his pocket to lock the documents he had just received in the bottom-left drawer of his desk. The papers slid over one another, revealing a handwritten label. 

Hogback: Echo Imaging Trials — Vinsmoke Metropolitan Academic Diagnostic Sector (V-MADS).

***

“Good morning, Dr. Trafalgar!” Law held the phone a bit farther from his ear at the sound of Kaya’s all-too-chipper voice. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of speaking to you in person before.”

“I’m sure you know I’m calling about the patient you referred to me yesterday,” Law said, wasting no time on pleasantries. “I read your report, but I wanted to get some more information from you before we proceed.”

Kaya’s voice faltered before she exclaimed, “Of course! What questions did you have?” Despite her enthusiasm, her voice carried a slightly forced edge. 

Law’s general intensity was somewhat of an acquired taste, after all.

“Did you notice asymmetric trabeculation or anything suggesting noncompaction?” he asked, pinning the phone between his ear and his shoulder. Law already had an extensive private note in the patient’s chart. 

“Oh, um…” Kaya stammered. Kaya was a great doctor, but her patient population consisted mostly of stable cases, including annuals and screening exams. She didn’t even make inpatient rounds. Even if Kaya had an answer right away, Law was too focused to allow her the time to answer. 

“If you had to pick, did it read more like focal hypertrophy or an unusual trabecular pattern — anything that made you question classic HCM versus a structural variant?” 

Law could almost hear Kaya gape from the other line. She cleared her throat a few times, though the politeness of the noise made it sound more like flustered humming. 

“I’m worried about this patient’s condition. He’s already been through so much,” she trailed off tentatively. “That said, it’s beyond my usual scope, and I really think you should consult with the technician who caught the thickening in the first place. She had a lot to say about it.” 

Law’s brows immediately perked up. He sat up, promptly ignoring his digital sticky note to lean back in his chair. He reached up to grip the back of the phone as he took a moment to register what Kaya was saying. 

“You would recommend that I talk to imaging,” he said.

“Well, she has such a great rapport with patients. The extent of my recommendations is in the report, but if you wanted a closer, more comprehensive assessment outside of that and the imaging notes, I would recommend you talk to the technician.” Law could practically hear her nodding. The new information made him pause, and for just a moment, he went quiet. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

“Would you…” Law started, almost trailing off into his thoughts. “Be willing to put that in writing?” 

“Put it in writing?” Kaya repeated, confused. “Um, yeah, I can put that in writing for you.” 

Law grinned, leaning forward on his desk. 

“That’s absolutely perfect. Thank you for all your help, Dr. Sirop,” he said, unable to keep his victorious smile from seeping into his voice. 

Kaya giggled back nervously. “You’re welcome—”

Law hung up before she could finish, because he was already arranging a meeting with Dr. Jaygarcia. 

Pinning Saturn down for a meeting was a challenge in and of itself, but perhaps it was Law’s sheer audacity that caused the stars to align and the moon phase to be just right for him to schedule a meeting just after Kaya left her recommendation in Law’s inbox. Whatever it was only served to fuel Law’s arrogance enough to fully reignite the overconfident spark in his eye, one he carried straight to Saturn. 

Saturn took one look at the printed correspondence and slowly lowered it to study Law, who sat in the chair across from his desk, one ankle slung over his knee. 

“Kaya asked for her. She flagged asymmetric trabeculation; there’s a family history of sudden deaths, and it’s beyond what she’s comfortable with,” Law said, his voice level. 

“Dr. Trafalgar,” Saturn began. He parted his lips, pausing as if mid-thought, inhaling slightly longer than usual. “I would imagine your advocacy, though perhaps well-intentioned, has been causing disruptions. I’ve heard the same in the feedback I’ve received, and yet you’re prioritizing a single referral despite your present circumstances. You must know that this risks making the situation more complicated.” 

“Then it should reflect positively on me since I’m so dedicated to a patient’s needs despite the optics,” Law countered, much to Saturn’s lack of amusement. 

Saturn shook his head, wiping his palms on the legs of his slacks. “And this can’t be an email? Dr. Sirop’s report wasn’t detailed enough for you?”

Law frowned. “I need her eyes on the images in person. I don’t want anything lost in translation in an email. I want to see it myself.” 

Saturn let out another sigh, taking a shallow sip of water before setting the glass down with a slightly trembling hand. “Do you often find yourself this… particular when it comes to your patients?” 

Law didn’t hesitate. In fact, the word escaped his lips before Saturn even finished. 

“Yes.” 

Saturn regarded him, his eyes narrowed and intense beneath his thick, drooping brows. He picked up the printed message from his desk, skimming it once more before setting it back on the flat surface. 

“Your reputation precedes you, Dr. Trafalgar,” he said, “although I’m sure you’re well aware that more than a few people on this floor might consider you demanding.” 

“If I have a reputation for fighting for my patients, I’ll take it,” Law asserted with a curt nod. “I’ve been called worse.” 

Law paused, eyes fixed on the spot where Saturn’s neck seemed to almost overflow from his collar, noting the dampness on the fabric. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked. 

Saturn nodded a few times, his fingers at his sternum as if to reassure Law. “I haven’t been tolerating coffee well lately,” Saturn muttered. “The perils of growing old.” 

Law’s eyes flickered, not fully convinced. He sat up a little straighter in his chair.

Saturn continued, “Allow me some time to see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Dr. Jaygarcia.”

“But—” Saturn pressed on, tilting his chin downward. “I would not feel comfortable with you going to Syrup Village, nor do I believe HR would consent to such a thing. Have your discussion here with a third party present and be done with it.”

Law’s jaw set as he skillfully repressed his victory smirk, replacing it with a far more professional expression. Law nodded. 

“Thank you,” he said again, standing from his chair. 

Saturn slapped his hands on the desk as he rose, and the dull sound marked the end of the conversation. “Don’t make me regret this, Dr. Trafalgar.” 

***

“Busy. How’s Syrup?”

“The exact opposite. I don’t think anyone would notice if I didn’t show up.” 

For a while, that’s how your conversation sat. You wish you could say you hadn’t been tempted to text him again. There was something about spending most of your waking hours tending to his patients before suddenly being reduced to two texts over the span of your exile that left you a bit restless. You wanted to blame the lack of things to do at Syrup for that, because never in a million years did you think you’d be anticipating a test from Trafalgar Law. 

But when he finally called near the end of the clinic day, you were almost embarrassed by how quickly you lunged for your phone. You probably picked up before he heard a single dial tone, and your greeting flew from your lips as if you’d been waiting for his call. 

And when you heard his deep, familiar voice say, “Got a second?”, your cheeks burned as your chest fluttered. 

“Yeah,” you breathed. 

You meandered through the administrative room you’d been working in. With no patients on your schedule, you’d resorted to reorganizing Syrup room by room, and you’d made it all the way from imaging to the room just before Hiriluk’s old office. You were all too eager to take a break from the documents crammed onto an excessive number of wobbly shelves and cabinets that lined the room. You’d barely made a dent. 

“I have a second.” 

Law paused on the other end of the line, letting the static fill your ear for a moment. 

“I know I haven’t been very responsive, but…” You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath. “It’s good to hear your voice.” 

You draped yourself across a nearby chair, unable to suppress the grin that crept onto your lips. 

“Yeah, you, uh…” You hummed, “You kinda disappeared there for a bit.” You slung your legs over the side of the armchair, cradling yourself in the quiet of the office. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since you came over.” 

You heard another beat of silence. “Sorry about that,” he muttered. “I meant to—I mean, things have been hectic around here.”

You almost laughed. You could’ve guessed as much. 

“I figured.” You smiled. “That’s why I was giving you some space. You have a lot on your plate… I would’ve already shown up at your place unannounced if I knew where it was. That’s apparently the thing to do—”

“Come over after work. I’ll send you the address.” 

You blinked a few times, the words not yet registering with you. “What, what?”

“I’ll make dinner,” Law said with a certainty that made you think he was already putting it on his calendar. “I want to see you.”

You hated how giddy that made you. That the arrogant, demanding baby doc you’d hated since you met him was now making you feel like a love-struck high schooler with five simple words. You played with the handle of a nearby cabinet with your shoe. 

I want to see you. 

No frills. No flirting. 

Just…

I want to see you.

You were pretty sure you agreed, because Law promptly said, “Alright. I’ll see you soon.” 

He didn’t even wait for an answer before hanging up.

That dick. 

You were smiling cheekily as you swung your legs from the arm of the chair, but your grin vanished the moment your shoe got caught. The drawer you’d been messing with swung open, and the cabinet tipped forward. You let out a startled yelp, stumbling back as each shelf lining the room tumbled down like dominoes. 

You heard hurried footsteps from down the hall and the dainty clicking of heels. Kaya appeared in the doorway, swinging it open in a panic. She could only open it so far before it was stopped by a fallen cabinet. 

“Are you alright?” She gasped.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answered somewhat sheepishly. You glanced around at the documents and files scattered around you. “Sorry, I’ll get these cleaned up, uh… I don’t know how organized everything will be today, but…” 

You glanced at the clock. You definitely didn’t have time to get everything where it needed to go. 

Kaya slid into the room. She bent down to clear the shelf blocking the door from fully opening, and you scurried over to help. You pushed it back into place together. A few papers crumpled underfoot.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized again, not quite sure why you were apologizing to Kaya in particular. 

But Kaya didn’t say anything, simply standing with her fists on her hips as she regarded the old amalgamation of shelves in front of her. Then she turned to take in the rest of the room, glancing from the fallen cabinets to the mess scattered across the floor. 

“You know—” She smacked the side of her fist into her open palm before turning to you. —“I think that if we just leave a sign on the door for maintenance, no one will notice.” Kaya nodded decisively. 

You let out a breathy laugh. “Think so?”

She nodded again, a slight frown on her lips. “I just wish Ussop was around. He’d be able to secure all of these to the wall.” Kaya walked farther into the room, studying the back of one of the cabinets. 

“I’ll handle it the next time I’m in,” you offered. “I think I saw a toolbox in the office.” You gestured vaguely toward the imaging office. 

An eager grin spread across Kaya’s lips at the mere mention of an exciting new project. 

“I’ll help you when I can! This seems like fun!” 

Her enthusiasm pulled an amused huff from you. At the very least, you had help. 

***

After righting as many cabinets as you could and pushing the fallen documents into a haphazard pile in the center of the small room, you quietly departed from Syrup. Kaya wrote a note telling maintenance not to enter, and you left the building together.

Getting to Law’s place wasn’t easy during rush-hour traffic. He lived more centrally in the city, and if the congestion in and out of the city wasn’t enough, the weaving grid of streets made you wonder if you’d ever make it to his place. Cutting over four lanes in bumper-to-bumper traffic, only to have to do it again, wasn’t for the faint of heart, but you finally made it to the parking garage. 

Perhaps you should have known that Law’s apartment would be vastly different from your own. The security guard at the gate could’ve told you as much, or perhaps the collection of expensive cars lining your way to guest parking. 

You found a spot close to the elevator. When you closed the door to your car, you glanced at your reflection in the window. You couldn’t help but wonder whether you should have gone home to change. The time you spent alone in the parking garage only deepened the pit in your stomach.

He said he was cooking, but it wasn’t going to be fancy… right?

You hadn’t thought much about Law’s invitation to dinner. Well, you had, but none of your fluttering musings had anything to do with your attire, let alone Law’s snazzy city apartment. 

When you finally found Law’s apartment, you weren’t any more comforted. The hallway was nicer than your place. You weren’t one to feel self-conscious about your own home, but in comparison, Law must’ve thought you lived in a dumpster. 

You didn’t even have to knock. The moment your hand poised in front of the door, it swung open. Law appeared in the doorway, one hand in the pocket of his leisure pants and the other still on the handle. 

“Glad you found your way,” he said curtly, inviting you in with a nonchalant nod of his head. 

But frankly, you were paying less attention to Law. No, you were more focused on his massive apartment. You stepped into the entryway, which featured a generous tile alcove a half step below the rest of the floor. Law’s expensive shoes were neatly lined up under a sleek wooden table. You caught your reflection in the oval mirror that hung just above it, all too aware of the scrubs you’d been wearing all day. 

An open-concept kitchen sat to the left of the entryway. Modern lamps hung over the island in the center, and there were enough stools to seat six guests. All the appliances were the latest stainless-steel models. You even thought you'd seen the oven had Wi-Fi. 

The restroom was located to the right of the entryway, next to what you assumed was a coat closet. But the entrance itself was nothing compared to the rest of his apartment. 

There was no separation between the kitchen and the living area. The ceiling height appeared to more than double only a few steps beyond the entryway, and the windows stretched from floor to ceiling. To the right, just around the corner from the restroom, sat a leather C-shaped sectional. The largest flatscreen TV you’d ever seen was mounted on the wall adjacent to the windows. 

The opposite wall, just by the kitchen, boasted a set of stairs. They flowed toward the windows before meeting a landing that redirected the steps upward, forming a narrow angle that led to what you could only assume was Law’s bedroom. What looked like an office sat under the stairs, with a doorway near where the steps began. 

You couldn’t help but gape as Law stepped back into the kitchen. 

“I—I…” You were still hypnotized by the view out the window. You stepped farther into the apartment, past the kitchen. “I feel like I should have brought champagne…” you joked. 

Law eyed you as he continued his kitchen task, his gaze flickering across the open-concept space. 

“It’s a two-bedroom,” he said. “You have one of those.”

You immediately spun around. “I most certainly do not have one of these.” You gestured wildly, your voice rising a pitch. “This cannot possibly be considered a two-bedroom.” 

“I hate to break it to ya—” Law turned to arrange dinner on two white plates. —“But there are indeed two bedrooms, and so, I believe that would make this a two-bedroom apartment.” Law pivoted again, walking past you to place the plates on a small table by the windows.

You made your way over, finally noticing the candle he’d lit between your two plates and the neatly arranged placemats cradling your utensils. Law sat down at the table, and you sat across from him. Law wordlessly began to eat, glancing out the window. 

For someone who’d managed to put together a romantic table setting right after getting off work, he appeared to want to act nonchalant about it all. 

“Well, thank you for cooking. It looks great,” you said, picking up your fork and knife. 

Law let out little more than a hum, still refusing to look at you as he ate. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward in a way that made him hunch. Your fork touched your food before you let out a huff and planted your hands back on the table.

“What is it with you and trying to hide that you’re kind?” You frowned, setting your utensils on the table. You crossed your ankles under your chair, leaning forward as you stared at Law’s blank expression. 

“What do you mean?” He grunted, taking another bite of food onto his fork. 

You reached across the table to grab the utensil from him, spilling rice across his plate and onto the table. Law blinked in confusion, and you watched as his forehead scrunched as he processed what had just happened. His lips parted in what was undoubtedly a scolding. 

“You said you wanted to see me, and now you’re being cryptic again. And you know what’s not going to happen?” 

Law’s posture didn’t change. He continued to lean forward, an amused glint in his eyes. “What?” he asked. 

“You are not going to shut me out again,” you huffed. You moved the candle aside to slam his fork between your plates. “We’ve been through too much for that. The hell you put me through during clinic—”

Law spoke your name.

—“This fuck-ass investigation—”

He said your name again.

“Law, you’ve seen me naked and you’ve seen me cry. I can’t in good conscience let you roam around with that information.” At that point, you’d begun to furiously cut up your meal. “Don’t get me started on the conference.”

Law reached a hand across the table, a dangerous move to touch someone who had a knife in their hand. His fingers brushed the back of your hand as he spoke your name for the third time. 

“What?” You snapped.

“Thank you for coming over,” he said, his voice low and soft. His thumb brushed the back of your hand. 

You stopped your crazed sawing to narrow your eyes. “Oh, so you’re allowed to thank me for coming over, but I can’t thank you for cooking,” you muttered, your tone halfway between mocking and deadly serious.

Law chuckled softly, pulling his hand away from you to pick up his fork. “Wow,” he said thoughtfully. “Syrup must’ve done a number on you. You’re more difficult than usual.”

“Speak for yourself,” you scoffed. 

“Glad to see your time there hasn't dampened your attitude—”

“I remember why I hate you now.”

—“Need me to fuck it out of you?” 

You almost choked. Your brain short-circuited for a moment, and your most basic memories of how to chew, swallow, and breathe were suddenly gone. You turned as you held back a cough. You couldn’t even speak. 

Law, of course, went back to his meal, unfazed. 

It took you a moment to collect yourself and a beat longer to wave your proverbial white flag. “Point taken.”

Law was a surprisingly good cook. Although perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised, considering the man was good at just about everything. 

You stared out at the city line, watching as the last remnants of sunlight slowly faded into the distance, casting a sunset hue over the world and signaling that night was coming soon. The flame of the candle flickered in the window. You met Law’s eyes in the reflection. 

“I’m not very good with emotions, if you couldn’t already tell,” he said, continuing to eat as usual. 

You nodded a few times. “You might have told me something like that in the past…” 

“I don’t like being recognized for things.” 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh, please. If I walk into your office, how many framed ego trophies am I going to have to pretend not to notice?”You pointed to the open door a short distance behind his shoulder. 

Law’s brows bounced in acute thought. “That’s different.”

“It’s… different,” you repeated, corralling some rice that had been pushed to the edge of your plate. 

“Those are benchmarks,” he said, as if stating the obvious. “It’s not an accomplishment if it’s an expectation.” 

You blinked at him a few times. “That’s a terrible rule to go by.”

Law shrugged, mid-chew. “Worked so far,” he mumbled, glancing back out the window. 

“And the free clinic, and all those patients you no charge, and the boxes of donuts that show up at the pod every Tuesday… Those are just… expectations?” You poked, eyeing him from the corner of your peripheral. 

“I’m just doing my job.” 

You almost rolled your eyes again.

“A psychosomatic allergy to being a good person, then?”

Law was quiet for a moment. He’d finished his plate quickly, leaving him with little to play with. His finger toyed with the rim of his half-empty glass of water. 

The sun slipped quietly behind the skyline, and suddenly the soft lights of Law’s apartment shone a little brighter. Offices, apartments, and street lamps glinted outside, glimmering in the darkness. 

“I’m not a good person,” Law said. “I don’t pretend to be.”

Law’s eyes dipped toward the window. You followed his gaze toward the nothingness that seemed to occupy his attention, weighing his words. 

“Law,” you spoke softly. “I don’t think there’s such a thing as a good person. Just good actions.” 

You turned your head to find Law’s attention already on you. His posture was as intense as usual. He leaned forward, arms crossed, as he regarded you with an unreadable expression. Law took a breath.

“I should probably tell you what’s been happening at Main.” 

You faltered for a second, your lips parting and closing as you considered the thought. 

“Do I even want to know?” you asked.

Law’s answer was swift. “No,” he said. “But I didn’t want you to be the only one out of the loop.” 

He dipped his head, and when he looked back at you, his expression had sobered. He looked exhausted, his eyes tired and his energy spent far beyond what he had in him. You could see it in his cold, collected demeanor.

“What happened?” you asked. 

Law blinked a few times as he gathered his thoughts, shifting in his seat with a full chronological rundown on the tip of his tongue. “I talked to Ju Peter and Saturn—”

“Actually,” you interrupted. Law paused, watching as you took a deep breath in and let out a shaky one. “I’m not sure how much I want to know,” you said quickly. 

You shook your head, covering your mouth and nose with your hands, as if physically recoiling from the very topic of what’s been happening at the hospital. 

You shook your head again. “I know everyone hates me, but I don’t know if I can actually handle hearing about it. Maybe Shachi and Penguin were right about me getting upset—”

“Not everyone hates you, so I want to stop that thought right there,” Law interjected sternly. He left no room to argue with his low, stoic tone. In that moment, you wondered whether he was always meant to be a doctor, talking in a way that made it sound like he knew everything. You could’ve believed it. Law certainly did. “I know it feels like everyone hates you, but if you keep saying that to yourself, you’re going to fuck up your mental state.”

“My mental state is already fucked up,” you whispered with a partial laugh. 

“Yeah, I know, but let’s not add to that.” Law frowned, serious as a heart attack. “I’ll tell you what won’t make you implode. Do you want to hear good news?”

“There’s good news?” you huffed a chuckle. 

“Saturn is letting us collaborate on a case—”

“WHAT?” You didn’t mean to yell, but the word tore from your chest like a hurricane. “How?” you exclaimed, apparently reduced to one-word sentences.

“Kaya recommended I consult you about that patient who was referred from Syrup,” he explained, leaning back in his chair. He slung one ankle over his opposite knee. “I spoke to Saturn, and as long as we talk at Main with someone playing chaporone, we can talk about it. I’m sure you’ll be receiving communication about it soon.”

You also slouched back in your seat, your mouth agape in surprise. Then your forehead scrunched as you shook your head. 

“Wait, they’re letting us talk about that but not your research study?” 

Law grunted out a noise halfway between a bitter chuckle and a sigh.

“Don’t even get me started,” he muttered. “It probably has to do with the fact that we’d have to be actively working together on research. For this one, I just need to talk a few things over.” 

You huffed, “Sure, alright. I guess.” You trailed off, the gears turning in your head. “Wait… Isn’t the conference, like, a month out? How have things been going with Franky?”

“Well…” Law’s brows bounced at the thought. He sucked in the side of his cheek in acute thought. “The patient has canceled our last two follow-ups, and Hogback has been pulling rank to steal Franky to his pod for his research.” Law made a few curt gestures for emphasis before crossing his arms again.

“Wait, hold on, Hogback is preparing a presentation?” You leaned forward, eyes wide and brows raised in disbelief. Your eyes fluttered, as if you could blink the information into sense. 

Law tapped his fingers against his arm. “Apparently,” he muttered. 

You looked away, lips pressed together. “I mean…” you started, the corner of your mouth dipping. “Not to sound like a conspiracy theorist…”

“Trust me, I thought about it.” Law cleared his throat. “But whatever Hogback’s been doing isn’t my main concern right now. I’m hoping we can use this asymmetric septum case to—”

You interrupted, “To get me back on your research, right?”

Law’s tongue poised to answer. “With our current timeline, I don’t know if that’s even possible.” He ran a hand through his hair, stopping at the back of his neck. “My intention was to get things closer to normal for you.”

You tilted your head slightly. “What do you mean?” 

Law stretched his legs out, sinking a fraction deeper into his chair. “You didn’t think I’d let you waste away in Syrup, did you?” 

There was something about his upturned chin and the stern yet cocky expression that triggered the loudest, ugliest laugh from your chest. Law’s lips formed a tight, closed-lipped smile, and as his chest puffed with quiet chuckles, you wondered whether he was laughing at you. 

“You aren’t going to let me wither up at Syrup Village?” You brought the back of your hand to your forehead, mocking a swoon. “My hero.”

Law shook his head, reaching for his plate and yours. 

“Are you done?” He murmured. 

You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth twitching. “Done marveling at your rescue mission? For me? The technician you once called a mouthy imaging rat?” you teased as Law carried your plates into the kitchen. 

“I forgot about that one,” he mused, letting out a soft, amused snort. “Blow out the candle, Ratoutille.” 

You did as you were told, snatching up any leftover utensils and meeting him at the island sink. “Wait, you don’t actually think the rat’s name is Ratoutille, right?” You slipped the stray forks into the sink, bumping Law out of the way with your hip as you reached for the sponge. 

“I’m not sure I care about the rat enough to remember,” Law scoffed, beginning to clear the counters. 

“Au contraire.” You lifted a soapy hand. “You care enough about the rat to save her from Syrup Village.” You went back to scrubbing, working through the dishes at a rate you’d never match at home. 

Law placed a hand on the small of your back, keeping you in place as he reached for something just beyond you. 

“I think you might be the only person alive who’d take being called a rat as a compliment,” he muttered. He took a towel in both hands, reaching for one of your newly washed dishes. 

The two of you worked in tandem for a moment, you washing dishes while Law dried them. The sound of running water and the clattering of plates filled the kitchen. 

You didn’t realize how much you missed working with him until that moment, when you wordlessly communicated as you worked toward a common goal. It felt like you were always meant to be like this, your bodies already having memorized each other from clinic alone. 

You basked in the feeling, letting an intimate mindlessness take you until all the dishes in the sink were done. You wiped down the sink's interior with the sponge before pumping soap into your hands to wash them. 

The little smile you didn’t realize you were wearing faded as you turned off the water, taking a moment to linger in front of the sink. 

Law’s eyes flickered toward you. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, never taking his eyes off you. 

You turned, leaning your side against the counter, a breath poised in your chest. 

“No matter what happens… I’d like to keep seeing you,” you said, exhaling gently as if it was a confession had been lifted from your chest. “North or not.” 

Your gaze met Law’s uncomfortably, the silence charged with words you already knew. It was his turn to pause and choose his words.

“As long as you want to stay,” he said slowly, “I will keep fighting for you.” Law nodded curtly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You leaned farther against the counter, there in Law’s kitchen after cleaning up from dinner. 

You smiled. 

“That’s why I’d like to keep seeing you,” you whispered. 

Law’s golden irises settled on yours, a soft worry floating in them. He stepped closer, his hand sliding over the one you braced against the counter. 

“I’d like to keep seeing you, too,” he said.

Your worries about the hospital fell away, unable to creep in under the glow of the kitchen lights. At the very least, for the time being, all the insanity going on at the North Blue could wait.

At least, until later.

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

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 Chapter XIV

Glossary for Nerds

Tag List: @aveocadeo @augustanna @starzbrii @sporkslol @r3nstar @chillerkiller @weepingjudgediplomatbasketb-blog @notbleachtea @yunloyal @valval08 @qui-sap @vilemint @all-mights-wife @breakingthebank13 @lipstick-stains-and-coffee-rings @starchild-unnamed @sin-namonroll

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

Notes: It’s not the beats I wanted to be in this chapter, but those will occur next chapter.

[aveocadeo]

GOODDDDD YESSSSSSSSSSS WHAT AN AMAZING CHRISTMASSS GIFT THAT HAS BEEN BLESSED UPONNNNN

[aveocadeo]

🍓 Hi~! Could I request a Sanji x fem!reader where the reader is a fashion designer who makes Sanji a navy suit as a thank-you gift for always being kind to her? She’s pretty chill about her crush on him, but later they end up baking a strawberry shortcake together, and after that they go on a walk and confess to each other If possible, could it be fluff? Thank you so much! 💛

a/n: I am so sorry that it has been taking a while! I had been busy with a heavy exam season, but here I am with your finished fic. It might be a slight change in the writing as I haven't been writing for months hehe.

A sugary navy thread. [Sanji Vinsmoke x f! fashion designer! reader]

tags: fashion designer! reader, f! reader, fluff, friends to lovers, strawberry shortcake and a navy suit.

ave's corner of masterlist

You always swore you weren't the kind of girl who fell in love with a smile.

And then when Sanji Vinsmoke smiled at you like the sunlight had a crush first, you were slightly done for.

It wasn't a problem, not a big one. It was more like... a pleasantly inconvenient hobby. It was like keeping a basil plant alive or collecting vintage buttons.

You kept your crush folded up in the notion drawer where you stored spare zippers and emergency chocolate. It was fine. You were fine.

You were a fashion designer with a forever-lint-rolled black turtleneck and a studio that smelt like steam and chalk. There was a chalkboard next to the dress form that said: 'Remember: drink water, you thirsty gremlin'.

On the days you forgot to stand up, Sanji sent soup. On the days you pulled all-nighters with clients before a show, Sanji sent espresso and texted you to stretch.

So, okay. Maybe you owed him more than a basil plant.

You felt like you owed him a suit. Not just any suit. His suit.

The suit he should had been born in. Something navy like deep ocean and midnight secrets with the exact color of his eyes when the kitchen's fluorescent lights are off. Something with lapels sharp enough to slice your restraint. It was something lined in silk softer than the way he said your name.

You spent a week pretending this was purely professional gratitude. You lied to yourself with satin.

The fabric shop owner knew you by name because you haunted his aisles like a poltergeist. He didn't even turn around when the bell rang. He just called out in the open: "Navy again?"

"It's for a thank-you gift", you said, a little defiant. "No romantic undertones whatsoever".

"Mhm, sure", he held up two bolts to the light. "This one's cool-toned. Almost steely. This one's warmer like blueberries in shadow. He'll look like a sin in both".

You choose the fabric that looked like blueberries in shadow.

The first time you met Sanji, he had flour on his cheekbone and a napkin at the ready for your coffee spill. "You look like you need breakfast", he said.

You did need breakfast. He brought you an omurice with your name drawn in ketchup like it was the most normal thing in the world to make culinary love letters for strangers.

Then he called you mademoiselle and half of your synapses died in a glorious fireworks finale.

Now you knew better. He was like that with everyone: The precise attention, the gentle sense of ceremony, the part where he saw a person and instantly started feeding them. But he also remembered your least favourite elastic widths. He knew you hummed when you pinned cuffs. He knew your studio's kettles hissed like tiny dragons.

Recently he also knew you couldn't say no to strawberries.

Which was why he texted you on a breezy Saturday.

[Sanji]: Fresh berries just came in. Sweetest of the season. Come taste?

[You]: Only if I can pay you in hemming your very soul.

[Sanji]: A scandalous bargain. I accept, so @ 4 pm?

[You]: 3:58, because I'm dramatic.

The atelier ate time and 3:58 pm became 4:12, but Sanji was leaning on the bistro's front counter like time did you both a favor. He was in his chef jacket with the sleeves pushed to his forearms. The forearms that had tormented your dreams. His hair was a bright, careless gold like the kind of gold that made people forgive you before you even did anything wrong.

He smiled when he saw you from a distance walking towards his location. "There she is", he said and came around the counter as if his feet had practiced finding you. "Late enough to be fashionably, hm?"

"I was fighting with a sleeve head", you replied back with a slight huff. "She started it".

"Of course", he chuckled and offered his arm. You took it as he guided you through the low hum of the afternoon toward the kitchen. "Prepare your palate, designer, because these berries are, pardon the arrogance, perfect", he said.

"Your arrogance is never pardonable", you said primly, "I merely tolerate it because you also make bread".

He laughed at your comment and filled the kitchen with that ridiculous velvet sound that made waiters crane their necks just to be in the splash zone. "You wound me. Come and allow me to administer healing sugar".

In the back kitchen, there was neat chaos. There were copper pans, lemon zest under a knife, a pot that smelled like vanilla and a low crate of strawberries glistening like fresh lipstick.

He handed you one. You took a bite and suddenly all you thought about was how you would marry this berry just to get that taste all over again.

"Well?" he prompted too close as the corner of his chef jacket was brushing your sleeve. You chewed and swallowed while fighting for composure. You were able to say:

"I'm willing to commit property crimes for this".

He bowed while feeling absurdly pleased from your reaction. "Your endorsement is invaluable to us here".

You looked down because if you looked up any longer, you would say: 'I made you a suit', but that wasn't how you planned it.

"Actually", you said as you were feeling your courage like a pin caught in your mouth. "I... have something... for you".

His eyes lifted. You hated how attentive he was, but you loved it more than you hated it. "For me, mademoiselle?"

"It's- hang on-", you fled out of the kitchen to grab the garment bag you left with the hostess earlier and came back like you were smuggling something illegal. "You do so much", you started to blur out words that accelerated without your permission from your mouth, "And not just for me, but for everyone and I wanted to say thank you in a way that sticks, so-".

You handed him the bag as you tried finishing that sentence.

He was careful about opening things. He untied knots like he was unwrapping people. You fiddled with the edge of the steel table and pretended your heart wasn't slamming.

He slid the hanger out and the suit was able to take a breath. Navy, soft sheen, the jacket's lapels being a touch wide in a way you knew would frame his chest like architecture. There was subtle pick-stitching that caught the light.

The lining flashed when he tilted it: a silk print you designed with tiny knives and basil leaves. Not to mention a little hidden cigarette on the inside pocket just to make yourself laugh.

He didn't speak for a while and that alone made you panicked. "If you don't like it, I can-", you stuttered out but he cut you out.

"Chérie", he said and the name just turned every screw in your ribs. "This is... exquisite", he breathed out.

Your face was actually going to catch fire. "I thought, uh, you could wear it for the new wine tasting events? You're always doing them in rolled sleeves and I though maybe something more... deliberate".

His hand went to the jacket's shoulder like a blessing. "Deliberate", he repeated softly. "May I?"

"Try it on? Please. I need to see if the back scye- sorry, tailoring goblin- if the fit works", you said.

You helped him shrug the jacket on while trying very hard not to think about how helpful you would like to be in other contexts of shrugging things on and off. As the navy settled onto him, it was like the air calibrated. He stood in it with a quiet he rarely displayed in the dining room.

You watched something close to reverence passing over his face as he smoothed the lapels. His fingers were on the buttons.

"You made this", he said softly. "For me".

"It's a thank-you", you squeaked. "Not a confession". Even though you wished it was.

He glanced at you, then turned to the side. You pressed your thumb into the seam at his waist and adjusted a half inch at the sleeve. "Hold", you murmured and he did patiently. His breathing was shallow to keep still as you pinned the cuff.

You could feel the warmth of his wrist bone through the two layers of fabric. Up close, the suit was a lover. You saw how it loved him back.

"It's perfect", he said and then after a beat that ruined your sanity, "You are-", he stopped himself like he had reached a cliff and reconsidered his words. "I'm... touched. Deeply. Thank you".

"Don't cry", you said, because humor was your parachute and you would deploy it at any time to avoid letting your feelings let loose. "You'll water-stain the wool", you let out a short chuckle.

He laughed and you both breathed out.

"Be honest", he said. "What can I do to deserve this?"

"Please", you snorted. "Like you haven't already-", you tried to say, but he didn't seem satisfied with your reply.

"Specifics, ma'am", he interrupted with eyes kinder than rules. "I insist. You've raised the bar beyond measure. I must court favor appropriately".

You blinked. Suddenly your mouth let out the first thing your brain wanted to say: "Bake with me".

He blinked back, then let out a big grin as if you just invented something great. "Your wish is my command".

"Strawberry shortcake", you added, because you wouldn't want to waste that poor crate of strawberries without putting them into something memorable.

"Shortcake it is", he said while rolling up his sleeves, then remembering that he didn't wanted to flour the gift he was wearing. He took the jacket off like a sacred item and set it on a chair. He draped a clean towel over it in a careful manner so he wouldn't ruin it.

When he turned back, it was with a look so earnest it ached. "Teach me your secrets, designer".

"Please", you huffed out, but you were already measuring flour. "You have pastry cred. I'm simply here to bully the dough".

He leaned hip to counter as he watched you with the focus he reserved for sweets and pastries. "Then bully me, too".

"Don't threaten me with a good time".

The only thing that filled the kitchen was his laugh.

You worked in tandem like you were always supposed to. You were good with the methodical parts: whisking the dry, cutting the butter into paper-thin coins and chilling the bowl so it all played nicely. On the other hand, he was good with instinct: splashing just the right amount of cold cream and knowing when the dough said enough.

There was a point where your hands brushed in the bowl, but you tried to pretend it didn't happen.

"Don't overwork", you said with a slightly unsteady voice. "We want flakes, not hockey pucks".

He just hummed out with a: "Just together enough to hold. Like us".

You stopped. Sanji bit the inside of his cheek like he regretted it and didn't. Your heart did a small stupid dance and you didn't know how to recover from that small moment.

"I mean", he recovered more lightly, "The dough and the berries".

"Right", you cleared your throat, then because you were a slight menace by nature:

"I'm very together with strawberries".

"Horrible", he said approvingly.

While the shortcake baked, you macerated the berries with a spoonful of sugar and a squeeze of lemon. The fruit surrendered its shine to a small, red lake. Sanji whipped cream in a chilled bowl with a whisk spun like a sabre.

"You always whisk by hand?" you asked while pouring the faintest bit of vanilla into the cream while he worked.

"Only when I want to show off", he winked with such flamboyance, he should be charged for that. "And when I... want time to pass a little slower", he mumbled quietly, but you were close enough to catch onto that.

Your hands were being traitors and set the bottle down too gently. You wanted to say 'don't do that' and 'do that more' at the same time. "You're ridiculous", you said.

"You like me ridiculous".

"Don't put words in my mouth".

"I could put shortcake, if you prefer", he said and that earned him a towel flick.

The shortcake came out golden and proud. He split them open with serrated knife. The crumb was tender as the steam was curling like a sigh in the air. You layered it with a spoon of berries, a drift of cream and topped it like a crown.

When you handed him a slice, it was warm in both your palms.

"To baked chaos and its guardians", you toasted.

"To designers who stitch gratitude into navy", he countered. He was watching you while taking the first bite. His eyes went soft and chewed like the cake was a message he needed to read in full.

"You like?"

"I might cry and water-stain something anyway".

You ate while standing up. You were being happy to be able to eat something so good, even though you didn't realise you were starving slightly for something and someone.

After finishing the dessert slice and the plates were empty, Sanji was reaching out his hand out of politeness. "Walk?" he asked.

"The night is too pretty to waste inside and we can bring a box to the old geezer. He gets murderous if I forget his share", he said with a laugh. You nodded as you knew he was talking about his mentor.

He boxed a couple of shortcakes and shrugged into a peacoat. He didn't put the suit back on and you were kind of relieved. The suit felt like a ceremonial thing now, so you didn't feel that was for the street.

He carried the box like it was fragile, precious items. He offered you his arm again and you took it without irony.

The night outside the bistro was made of little lights and the sound of people who hadn't gone home yet, because the evening was still flirting with the lights from the stores and bars.

You walked down the block and around the corner, past a bookstore that always changed their display at midnight like magic. You didn't hurry. You didn't slow either. You just stepped in pace with him like your bodies had agreed on a tempo.

"Thank you", he said after a while. This wasn't about the shortcake now. "For the suit".

"Thank you for... everything else".

"I could make a list", he said smiling, "But you would bully me".

"You say that like it's not part of my charm", you said back.

"It's all part of your charm", he said and there was no joke at the end. "The bossiness. The way you pin your hair up with a pencil, then forget and use it to draft a pattern and get lead in your bun. The way you mutter to fabric like it's a stubborn child. The way you taste sugar with your eyes closed. The way you pretend you don't know how kind you are", he said while staring at the lights that were shining above you two with the ambient sounds of footsteps.

You gripped his arm a little tighter now as the box creaked faintly. "You're very observant", you managed to say.

"I try", he said. "You're worth noticing".

You stopped walking because your heart had turned into a red light. He stopped too and the streetlight draped a long stripe of amber across his hair. He looked like a person you could spend a lifetime watching work and never got bored.

"Sanji", you said and it came out like you were about to deliver a verdict. "I said it wasn't a confession".

"I heard", he said. His voice was gentle in a way that made you feral. "I also heard you when you said it the way you didn't say it".

You swallowed. This was the part where other people do something brave. You had stitched courage into other people's clothes before. Maybe you could wear it yourself, just this once.

"If it were", you said quietly and unsure, "Would it be a problem?"

"Nothing about you is a problem", he said and the surety in it knocked the air out of your lungs. "Only an opportunity to improve my posture".

"This is a terrible time to talk about your posture", you said as you internally facepalmed at his comment.

"I'm trying to say that I'd stand up straight and try to be worthy", he corrected himself as his hand was tightening the smallest bit where it rested over yours on his arm.

"And I'd ask if it's all right to like you the way I do". You were now looking at him. He was looking right back. It wasn't in a flamboyant, performing way. He was just there, steady and warm, waiting for you to say yes or no and meaning it.

The city kept moving around you two. You felt oddly still as if you had reached the seam where a lining attached and there was this tiny row of invisible stitches holding everything up.

"Okay", you said. It took a short moment of silence before you asked him:

"Do you like me or do you like-like me?"

His smile edged into incredulous. "I like-like you", he said. "I like-like you so much, my coworkers take turns dragging me away from the front door when you text that you're coming", he said.

"Tragic", you whispered in a jokingly, yet thrilled tone. "Do you think they've made a rotation schedule?"

"Definitely not a formal one", he lied. "Absolutely not laminated and posted in the walk-in".

You laughed and it felt like something was unwinding under your ribs and floated up. "I like-like you", you confessed simpler than what you expected. "I've been trying to be normal about it".

"How is that going?" he asked and his thumb brushed the back of your hand where you were linked. It was such a small, yet devastating gesture from him.

"Terribly", you said, which was apparently the correct answer because you saw his eyes go soft.

"May I kiss you, chérie?" he asked and the nickname was intentional as it landed you like a small bell ringing in a church you didn't know you believed in.

You nodded as words had deserted the premises.

He leaned in. The first kiss was unhurried and sweet as if you had both agreed on a couple rules. It was like a shortcake: Don't smash, don't rush and let the flavors exist.

His mouth tasted faintly of vanilla and something citrus. You made a small noise you would probably deny forever. His hand lifted up to your jaw in hesitation, like he was asking again and you tilted your face into it.

There was nothing flashy about it. None of the performance. It was better. It was the soft, ordinary miracle of a warm mouth, the right person and the click of a seam that held you both.

When you parted, he rested his forehead against yours and laughed a little while being breathless. "You taste like strawberries".

"You taste like victory", you said a little dazed.

"I try".

"Stop saying 'I try' like this isn't your Olympic sport", you both shared a quick, sweet laugh.

He kissed the corner of your mouth just because he could. "Will you let me take you out? Properly like dinner somewhere I can judge silently".

"You'll judge out loud", you said and kissed him back because you could. "I say yes".

"Yes", he echoed like he was memorising the word's shape. He looked at the box in his hand with sudden alarm. "The shortcake".

You just grinned at his slight concern about the delayed delivery. "Let's move. We can't be responsible for a culinary coup", you said.

You two walked again, but this time lighter with hands looped. You delivered the shortcake after some time with a suspicious stare from Zeff, but all you two got was:

"Finally" and a door in your face like a blessing after he bit the cake in half.

After shared laughter at what just happened, you just looked at him. "Want to swing by the studio?" you asked. "I have a surprise".

"I wore my surprise already", he said in an amused tone.

"Another one", you said. "It's less formal and probably more chaotic".

He raised an eyebrow, but replied delighted: "Lead on", as you two were heading to your studio.

Your atelier at night was softer than during the day. You flipped on only the lamp by the drafting table and suddenly the place felt like a fort.

Sanji stepped in and stopped in the doorway like he didn't want to scuff something invisible and important. He touched nothing. He was good at touching nothing until invited.

"You can touch", you said as you gave him the green light and he laughed because of course he could.

He stepped to the dress form that stood close to him. "Her Majesty", he said as he was bowing to the muslin pinned like a half-finished thought. "What's her story?"

"She's a bridal sample for a client who thinks she doesn't want sleeves", you said while fiddling with a bundle of navy scraps. "But actually does and I will wait until she says it out loud".

He grinned. "You could rule nations with that patience".

"Don't tell them my campaign strategy".

"Never".

"Anyway", you pointed to the cutting table. "Close your eyes".

"Designer", he said as he was already obedient. "Yes, ma'am".

You put something in his hands. It was lighter than the suit and felt less formal. It felt rather a little playful. "It's dumb", you said as if you were afraid he wouldn't like it.

"It's a matching flat cap. For... days when you're in jacket-adjacent moods", you said.

He opened his eyes and looked like you gave him a small planet on his hands. "You made me a hat".

"I make things", you said with sudden self-conciousness. "It's my whole deal".

He put it on. It tilted slightly right, because you built the sweep there and it turned him into a 1950s movie star who knew where the best pastry was hidden. He looked like he could steal your heart in broad daylight (as if he didn't already).

He looked in the dusty mirror and then at you in the mirror too.

"My heart hurts", he said conversationally.

"From the cake?"

"From the girl", he said and turned around to kiss you again. The air gave him a clear message that he was allowed to kiss you and he took the chance.

When you broke for air, you put your forehead to his shoulder and spoke into his shoulder. "I'm going to be annoying about this".

"I hope so", he said and smoothed the back of your head with his palm. It was like he was always meant to do it. "It would be unbearable if you were reasonable".

"Great", you said. "My strong suit".

"Your... suit", he groaned delighted and pained.

"I had to".

He pulled back enough to study your face like he was lining up a recipe with a measuring mark. "What do you want, chérie?" he asked carefully. "Right now. Tomorrow. After".

"Right now?" you echoed the words. "I want to put a basting stitch on your cuff so I can pretend I wasn't near tears when you tried it on".

"Ah", he said, but the sound was tender. "And tomorrow?"

"Coffee", you said. "And you, sitting at my table and reading me the menu out loud like we didn't both memorised it three months ago".

"And after?"

You looked past him at the dress form, at the pewter cup of chalk and at the life you liked very much. "After", you started your sentence. "I want whatever this is without us pretending it's not. And I want to make you more things. Maybe not all suits. Maybe a ridiculous apron with your initials. Maybe a tie with knives. Maybe-".

"Maybe a future?" he offered as if he gave you the best summary out of your spam of sentences. You blinked at his offer. The word was landing and staying on you. "Maybe", you replied.

He inhaled like he wasn't sure if he could say it, but felt better now that it was out. "I like that word on you", he said with sincerity.

You reached up and adjusted his hat by a millimeter because it felt like touching the future with one careful hand. "It's navy", you said.

"It matches".

"It does", he said. "We do".

He locked into your eyes as if personal space wasn't a thing between you two. "One more walk?" he asked with voice low. "I don't want to steal you from your work any longer than I already have, but I also... hate the idea of returning you to a room without me in it".

"Bold", you said, breathless and deeply gone. "But yes, one more".

You shut the lights and locked the door. You and Sanji stepped into a night that felt like the hem of something new. He offered his arm and as usual, you took it. It was standard now, since who were you to fight tradition.

"I'll wear the suit for the tasting next week", he said as you turned toward the main street. "If you'll be there".

"Try to stop me", you said. "I'll stand in the back and clap like an embarrassing stage mom".

"Promise?"

"Promise".

"And after the tasting", he breathed out, "We can come back and make another cake. Or burn one. Accidents happen when you kiss me in the middle of whipping cream".

"So confident", you said but your hand tightened by the thought of it. Your smile went wide and helpless.

"I've got data", he said. "One kiss means soft peaks".

"You're unbearable".

"You like me unbearable".

"God help me", you sighed and tilted your face up for the next kiss right then. It was under the string of café bulbs as the world lit like a stage where the audience leaned forward, because the scene they had been finally waiting for finally arrived.

His mouth met yours and he tasted like sugar and relief. It tasted like something you had designed patterns for before but never cut in your own size.

You kissed him the way you sew when you were alone at dawn. When the first seam of the day felt like a spell. It was slow, exact and sure. He kissed you like a man who had been loud his whole life and just discovered a quiet he wanted to keep.

When you parted, you rested your hand over his heart without thinking. It was beating steadily, but it was strong. His heart was like a metronome you could hear for the rest of your life.

"Let's walk", you said and you did as the city was opening like a bolt of endless and ready cloth in navy.

As you and Sanji took the first careful cut together.

@/2025 ave