mars!

𖦹 ideas

[1yuann]

tired eyes.

[agmtist]

Law Valentine’s Day art🫶🏻

[merrymars]

ahhhhh

[spammymusubi]

who's your friend? (｡· ヮ ·｡) (trafalgar law x reader) SMAU masterlist

y/n and Law run into each other—literally—and think nothing of it. they don't expect to keep running into each other, and end up navigating the trials of undergrad, friends, and love together.

status: ongoing, new chapter every friday 9:00am PST!

tags: fem!reader, modern!au, university!au, nerd!law, slow burn, mutual pining, crude language, bestfriend!zoro, eventual zosan, established namivivi, cliche tropes incoming, miscommunication, fluff, happy ending

i do NOT own any of the photos used in this series. photos sourced from pinterest and google, unless otherwise stated.

masterlist °.⊹📖.˖✧

🫀 indicates written part!

» ch. 0.5 - student roster ch. 1 - i'm just a girl ch. 2 - sweet treat ch. 3 - mort dying in a glue trap » ch. 3.5 - motorcycle man ch. 4 - loser roommate ch. 5 - keg stands and darts 🫀 ch. 6 - prospects ch. 7 - act natural! ch. 8 - be my wingman ch. 9 - get your man ch. 10 - not sulking 🫀 ch. 11 - is it actually working? ch. 12 - not so secret crush » ch. 12.5 - cute ch. 13 - freakin weekend 🫀 ch. 14 - campus crush ch. 15 - 7/11 🫀 » ch. 15.5 - tall and brooding ch. 16 - tattooed glory (outtake 🫀) ch. 17 - don't joke about that ch. 18 - the void ch. 19 - bravest girl ever ch. 20 - be normal 🫀 ch. 21 - congratulate meee ch. 22 - very veryyy good ch. 23 - chritmas ch. 24 - romantic? ch. 25 - coming soon...

and more on the way!

[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. “Frankly, I don’t actually 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.

[wing-ed-thing]

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

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: 6.3k

Tags/Warnings: Minors DNI, CardiacElectrophysiologist!Law, EchoTech!Reader, AFABFEM!Reader, Modern Hospital AU, Language, Enemies to Lovers, Assault Investigation, Gossip, Bullying

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

Syrup Village was a lovely fifteen-minute commute. It was a quiet part of the city, mostly inhabited by retirees. Known for its beautiful community gardens and parks, the village itself was otherwise rather barren, with barely a single fast-food chain or community center in sight. But while it wasn’t a hub of activity, it was close enough to just about everything to hold its own as a quiet oasis. 

The North boasted an ambulatory clinic at this site, converted from an old office building. Only two stories tall, Dr. Hiriluk himself paid for the North’s expansion from one section of the second floor to the entire building. Even after retirement, he still had an office in a far-off section of the clinic, which sat uselessly empty. Although he never frequented that office much while practicing.  

Nowadays, the Syrup Village office is staffed by a single cardiologist, who began approximately three years ago. 

“She’s basically a Disney princess,” Ussop once claimed, and you had to admit, he wasn’t wrong. She was soft spoken and introduced herself by her first name. Anyone who happened to cycle through Syrup was likely to say that Dr. Kaya was their favorite doctor.

“Oh!” Kaya exclaimed as she opened the door to your small office, or more appropriately, Ussop’s office. She swiveled her head, glancing toward the empty adjacent desk and back to you. “Just you today?” she smiled. 

“Yeah,” you said, trying to return her polite smile. “Did Ussop not tell you?”

Kaya’s brows rose. “Tell me what?” she whispered hastily, quickly slipping in the door before closing it. 

“Oh, no, it’s not a secret,” you spoke quickly, turning in your chair to face her fully, hands in the air in some sort of hurried defense. “It’s just that Ussop is going to be working Water Seven from now on.” 

Kaya’s face fell instantly. “What? Oh…” She glanced back toward the empty desk. “Is he transferred permanently?” she asked, reinforcing her smile. 

“It’s… indefinite at this point,” you explained softly.

Kaya uttered another quiet, “Oh.” She nodded a few times in contemplation. You’d hardly met her more than a handful of times, but you considered you probably could have transcribed her thoughts straight off her face. 

“Well—” She clapped once, seeming to have decided to snap herself back to reality. “I’m glad to have you! Things are a little… slow around here compared to Main, but that’s not always a bad thing.”

Patients weren’t expected to arrive for another hour or more, and it would be even longer before they reached you… if you were seeing anyone at all today. So, Kaya invited you for a hot drink and a snack. 

The two of you walked down the hallways, all painted a light, muted beige. The building itself felt almost uncanny. Since it was converted from offices, the layout wasn’t typical for a clinic like Kaya’s. It was easy to see which areas had been cubicles and break rooms. The fluorescent lights shone harshly on the waxed tile below, creating a glare. 

Kaya’s office was in the corner of the floor near the stairs, just a zigzag away from the imaging office. A stylish, modern emeralite lamp lit up the space from her desk. An instant coffee maker sat on a tidy cart in the corner, with drink pods organized in a metal holder. A soft, abstractly shaped rug stretched from the two chairs in front of her desk to just behind Kaya’s own office chair. 

“I’ve got quite the collection,” Kaya said, gesturing to the cart and tugging open the top drawer. “Feel free to help yourself.”

You crouched down to survey the selection. Kaya hadn’t been exaggerating when she said she had a variety. You only saw the same flavors repeated over and over, with most pods featuring specialty editions you’d never seen before. 

Kaya leaned back against the edge of her desk, feet still planted against the floor as she rolled her empty, reusable coffee cup between her palms. 

“We don’t get many patients for echoes around here. Maybe one or two a day?” She pursed her lips in thought. “On really light weeks, I might not send anyone your way at all. I know it might be a big change coming from…”

“Main,” you finished her sentence softly.

You quietly plucked a pod from the collection and popped it into the machine. Kaya watched you take a thick paper cup from the cart and place it on the collection station, pressing buttons before the machine whirred. 

“Right,” Kaya hummed, “The Main office.” 

You heard her breathe in, only to pause, as if she wanted to say something but decided against it. 

“It’ll be different around here,” you admitted.

“We’re a lot slower!” Kaya offered hopefully. “No rush. No pressure. I like to think of Syrup as the place patients know they can take their time and be treated with care.”

“Sure,” you replied, taking your brewed beverage off the collection plate and popping the empty pod into the trash. You and Kaya quietly switched places as she swiftly plucked some sort of tea into the machine and placed her cup down. “Sounds like a good goal for a medical office.”

You hadn’t meant for your answer to sound as sarcastic as it did. The truth was simple: hospitals could feel like factories—patients were a revolving door; you couldn’t keep track of how many times you’d introduced yourself. However, with your experience, you believed you could move fast and well; efficiency didn’t require cutting corners. Kaya’s words— “no rush, no pressure”—should have been kind. It was a reassurance that Syrup wouldn’t beat you into the ground and leave you exhausted at the end of every day. 

Instead, in Kaya’s small, polite voice, it felt like a sentence. 

Your tone had somewhat of an edge to it, a reaction to the grander situation, and one that Kaya didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of. But if she noticed your acute irritation, she didn’t show it. 

***

Your first patient came in that afternoon, and given how hands-on Kaya was throughout the process, you wondered whether she had any staff helping her. She pushed the patient’s wheelchair herself and helped him into the exam chair. But for how involved as she appeared to be, Kaya’s involvement seemed to stop the moment the actual scanning was going to begin. 

“I won’t hover over you,” she excused herself, promptly exiting the room. 

She didn’t seem to consider staying to watch the imaging for a second, which was more than normal, considering how unremarkable the case was. It was a routine visit. Nothing was of note—which was a good thing—and the patient didn’t require any complicated techniques. Just a straightforward transthoracic echo: parasternal long, parasternal short, apical views, color sweets, and IVC check… You even threw in a few extra frames just because you could. 

The equipment in your single imaging room was a few models behind. The images on the screen flickered every now and then, likely due to the acutely defective monitor and a need for replacement probes. The gel warmer didn’t appear as though it had been touched in quite some time, and the exam chair was slow to recline. 

When you brought the patient back to Kaya, she blinked from over the rim of her coffee mug. 

“Wow, you sure are fast,” she remarked, immediately taking over for you. “You didn’t have to rush, you know.”

And that was it. That was your day. 

No one else came through as you watched the clock tick on, counting down the hours until the workday was through. You could check your email only so many times before you resorted to rotting in the dark, the white glow of the schedule cast over you. One by one, Kaya’s patients checked out with the front desk until every single patient had left. 

You were still staring at the column of long-gone patients when Kaya came knocking at your door. She opened it carefully, her eyes flickering in confusion for a moment as she took in the dimness of the office. You sat up, meeting her soft smile. 

“We’re all done here,” she said, “Great work today.”

It was still daylight out.

You’d never gotten out of work this early, and you knew anyone else would have been thrilled. 

You nodded, offering her a quiet thank you and a promise to see her tomorrow. Kaya didn’t linger as you took extra time in packing up your things. You took the long way to grab your uneaten food from the barren work fridge before finally clocking out and making for the parking lot. 

The moment you stepped out of the building, you stopped, letting the door swing shut behind you. Yes, the world was still lit by the sun, and it wasn’t even sunset. You glanced at the time on your phone, wondering what you were going to do with yourself. You’d beat traffic by at least an hour or two. Perhaps you could find a few errands to keep you busy before you had to face your empty apartment. 

And then… bzzt.

You clicked on the notification. 

“One day down,” the text from Law read, “You survived.” 

***

“Dr. Trafalgar, this is not worth risking your reputation over.” 

“My reputation? My reputation is at risk because the integrity of my work is.” 

Perona leaned against the doorway of the breakroom, which was conveniently located on the corner slightly adjacent to the COO’s office. She sipped her evening coffee, staring blankly toward the door. 

Pudding passed, barely paying Perona any mind as she retrieved her near-empty lunchbox from the work fridge. But just when Pudding passed to step back into the hallway, she stopped, doing a double take as she stepped back. 

“Perona?” she called, waving a hand in front of Perona’s face. “Didn’t your shift already end—?”

“Shh!” Perona swiftly hushed, cocking her head downward to catch more of the commotion. 

“You’re a junior staff physician. This is not the hill you want to die on.” 

“I’m not dying on anything. I’m correcting a decision that was never grounded in facts.”

Perona took a long, savoring sip of her coffee at the exact same pace as someone watching a movie. 

“Trafalgar is pissed because the echo girl was transferred to Syrup,” she whispered with exhilaration, “He’s been raking Shephard over the coals for the past twenty minutes.” 

Neither of them blinked an eye as Penguin slid between them, making for the fridge. 

Their conversation resumed like they hadn’t been interrupted at all. 

Pudding scoffed, rolling her eyes, a disgusted scoff splitting from her lips. “Ew,” she spat. “I hope that bitch gets what’s coming to her.”

Perona elbowed her hard in the ribs.

“OW!”

“Shh!” Perona hissed, louder this time. “You’re talking too much. I can’t hear.” 

“You’re taking this far too personally—” Ju Peter’s voice was muffled from behind the door.

Pudding gritted her teeth, looking at Perona incredulously. She clutched the strap of her lunch box. “You’re just hit me!” 

“I’m trying to listen, so shut up,” Perona dismissed. “You’re, like, being really embarrassing right now.” 

“She said yes to one date, and now everyone acts like she’s untouchable,” Pudding fumed, “That’s what’s embarrassing.”

Pudding’s jaw clenched as she grabbed Perona by the shoulder, yanking her closer. But her grip fell as Perona smacked her open palm against Pudding’s forehead. It wasn’t a slap as much as it was a warning, much like the swipe of a cat, and it was enough for Pudding to stumble back in shock. 

“Oh my god, Pudding, if you’re still this pressed about their, like, two total dates, then maybe he didn’t pick you for a reason.” Perona leaned back against the doorframe, absentmindedly examining her cuticles. She hardly noticed the sharp rattle of the COO’s door.

“Drop it, Trafalgar.”

“No.”

The look in Pudding’s eyes turned feral. She wasn’t paying attention, too focused and smug to hear the door swing open. Perona’s brows raised as she peered just around Pudding’s ear at Law, who stepped out into the hall, stiff-backed and furious. 

“Pudding,” Perona breathed, never taking her eyes off Law. 

Pudding squared her shoulders and jabbed a finger toward Perona’s chest.

“He picked that echo bitch because she’s easy. Everyone knows that—” 

“Ms. Charlotte.”

Pudding spun around. Law was still standing just outside the door, cold and composed, his thumbs tucked into the pockets of his coat. Pudding gaped, her lips opened and closed as she sputtered around her words. 

“Dr. Trafalgar,” she stammered. “I—”

“Penguin,” he called, never taking his gaze off Pudding’s widened eyes. “You’ll be reporting that. In writing. Before you leave today.”

Penguin slipped back through the doorway, his lunchbox in hand and a deep frown on his lips. “Was already on it, Cap’n.” 

Pudding lost Law’s stare as Penguin passed, stumbling back a step. Penguin walked briskly down the hall. 

“And you.” Law scowled at Pudding. “You should remember where you're standing when you say things like that. While you still work here.”

He didn’t wait for a response or a reaction. Law continued down the hall, following closely after Penguin. 

***

The team left after an exhausting clinic. Law was already planning to buy lunch the next day, or a box of breakfast pastries to keep morale up. But for now, Law kept holed up in his office, the heat from his conversation with Ju Peter slowly drifting off him.

A firm knock sounded at Law’s office door.

“Come in,” Law called, not even looking up from the research materials pulled up on his computer. 

The handle twisted, and Shaka’s tall figure filled the entrance to Law’s office.

“Dr. Trafalgar,” he greeted in his typical, low stoicism. “Have a moment?” he asked, already closing the door. 

“Of course,” Law replied, quietly registering the click of the door. 

“I thought you might want an update on our mutual friend from Rosinante’s clinic.” Shaka didn’t sit, preferring to stand with his hands in his coat just a short distance away from Law’s desk. “Cavernoma looks consistent on the follow-up MRI. No new hemorrhage, and he’s reported stable symptoms. We get to do what doctors do best: monitor and wait, with a plan in place in case things worsen. You’ll get my full documentation in your in-basket soon enough, but I figured you would want an update as soon as possible.” 

The news was enough to dispel the slightest bit of tension from Law’s shoulders. He heaved in a sigh and released it, nodding a few times. 

“That’s good,” he said, leaning forward on his desk. “He’s had enough bad news.”

“Agreed.”

“But you didn’t come all the way from the top to update me about a patient.” Law planted his elbows on the surface in front of him as he clasped his hands together. He stared at Shaka for a moment, studying him in silence. 

“You’re a thorough man. I thought you’d want to have the information before the day ended,” Shaka said, his tone even as he stepped to the side to eye a few of Law’s shelved books, “Besides, I hear you’ve had quite the busy week.” 

Law frowned, his sharp eyes watching Shaka closely. “Busy is one way to put it.”

“Dense, then,” Shaka corrected, running his finger over one of the book spines as he tilted the title out toward himself. “You look tired.”

“And you look like you’re stalling bad news,” Law said, unclasping his hands as he leaned back in his chair. He slung an ankle over his opposite knee. “If I’d been given the choice, I would’ve preferred the bad news before the good.” 

That earned the faintest amused puff from Shaka, but the acute smile on his lips quickly faded. 

“Noted,” he hummed. And then, a breath. “The conference isn’t too far out, you know. My father and I are interested in seeing your work move forward. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that the case you’re building doesn’t just have my eyes on it.” 

“I’m aware.” Law nodded curtly. “I’ve already talked to him at length about it.” 

“Then you understand the situation you’re in.” Shaka didn’t even blink. “If you insist on dragging yourself through the mud in the meantime, then perhaps a gentle intervention is called for.”

“Is this what this is?” Law raised a brow. “A gentle intervention?”

“I’m afraid the board is only interested in two things,” Shaka continued as if Law hadn’t spoken. “And that would be the outcome of this case and your image, both of which I hear have been shrouded in… suboptimal lighting as of late.”

“I’m sure you know better than anyone that there are only so many things I can control.” Law watched as Shaka pulled the book from the shelf, flipping through it absentmindedly. 

“What I see from where I’m standing right now is a rare talent, robust data, and a very compelling story if you let it stay about medicine.” 

“I am keeping it about medicine,” Law gritted, his voice holding an edge he didn’t intend for it to. “A doctor is only as good as his support staff.” 

And for a moment, Law’s office was quiet. Shaka quietly turned his attention to the shelves on the opposite side of the office, standing with stoic resolve as he waited for Law to speak. He continued to hold the book in his hand.

“She’s been pulled off my case,” Law finally spoke, his voice firm and decisive. The words settled into the silence. “She’s imaged ninety-nine percent of my patient population. We built the dataset together. No one understands my protocol or this patient as well as she does. Losing her would mean ruining this case, and that is unacceptable.” 

Law’s eyes cast absentmindedly toward the papers he’d swept away earlier.

“If you want this study to look the way you think it will? My patient cancelled his last two follow-ups, and that’s not even considering the last round of imaging we need to schedule. That’s not even to mention that my only imaging tech has been continuously pulled to Hogback’s wing,” Law muttered. Another beat of silence. Another breath. “I need her.” 

Shaka was quiet for a moment. He’d seen your work many times before. On Law’s patients. On the patients of every other doctor who visited Main. On the patient who he’d come to Law about just now. The precision. The angles. The way the anatomy seemed to skate exactly where you need it was nothing short of genius. 

“Clearly,” Shaka mused, flipping a page. “That much was evident by how you rearranged the entire department’s imaging schedule around her injury.” He turned another page, not even sparing a glance at Law. “How many favors did that take?”

Law scowled inwardly. “I’ll be buying Hancock’s team lunch for the foreseeable future.”

Shaka exchanged the book in his hands for another, keeping the shelves' organization intact. 

“You’re angry,” Shaka noted, splaying the cover over his hand. “You have good reason to be. I don’t blame you for still being in that stairwell, and I could make a few guesses as to why.” 

Law’s jaw tightened. Of course, Shaka, of all people, would know all the details. Law shook his head, moving to stand. “I never took you as the sort for speculation.”

“I’m not.” Shaka’s voice remained level even as he finally snapped the book closed, letting a crisp pop ring out over Law’s office before he filed the title back where it was. He turned toward the desk. “But you can’t be there. You need to be here. Angry people in institutions like this tend to be categorized as liabilities, and liabilities are kept on a short leash. I can only advise that you pick your battles.”

Law sank back into his chair, although his posture was far from relaxed. He kept a hand on the desk, another one on his knee. “And what do you think of liabilities?” he asked, his voice low and pensive. 

Shaka heaved out another deep sigh. His hands returned to his coat pockets. 

“I think… that the people who make the most change are the ones with the drive. The passion. The standards.” Shaka met Law’s steady gaze. “But they must survive long enough to see that happen. If I were speaking purely as a neurologist, I’d tell you to focus on the case. Get your ducks in a row. Present it clean. Let HR handle HR. A month and a half flies fast, you know.”

A month and a half? Was that really how close the conference was?

“You want me quiet,” Law said bluntly, his jaw tightening. “If you were in my position and they’d done to your… colleague… what they did to mine, would you drop it? Just because of a few baseless rumors?” 

“I never said to drop it. I want you strategic,” Shaka corrected. “There’s a difference.” 

And we’re back to the control issue.

“You can definitely choose which battles to pick and where. I think a closed-door HR interview is not the place where you win.” Shaka’s expression was straightforward as he stood in the middle of the office, his hands shoved back in his pockets. And for a moment, his eyes flickered down to the blank binder on Law’s desk. “And if you’re going to start pulling on loose threads, do it knowing exactly how big a mess you’re about to make.”

“Shaka,” Law said, and Shaka’s eyes shifted to Law’s. “Will you advocate for her?” 

“I’ll say what I can when I can.” Shaka’s lip dipped slightly down. “But I can’t make this disappear for you.”

“I know.” Law nodded. 

“As a neurologist, I can’t make any promises to you, nor can I be a reliable source of guidance. Don’t expect another lecture.” Shaka returned Law’s curt nod before turning to the office door. 

Law spoke the moment Shaka placed his hand on the handle. 

“And as a Vegapunk,” Law pressed, leaning over his desk again. His eyes narrowed. “What would you say?”

Shaka’s shoulders jerked, a sound like an amused scoff escaping his tongue. For a moment, he stood straight, his gaze on the ceiling. He didn’t turn when he said, “The family has a weakness when it comes to rarities.” Shaka shook his head. “Rare talent like yours takes time and money to cultivate… Especially when it comes with that audacity.” 

Shaka turned the handle, quietly exiting into the hall. 

***

The days slipped by, each hour painfully passing from the moment you opened your eyes in the morning to the final minutes of your clinic shift. It was a frustrating cycle, one you only seemed to recognize when you were halfway through lunch—or worse, during a patient’s imaging. The cold, sobering feeling washed over you instantly, and it took a few hours of mindless drift to forget how hyperaware you had been of your surroundings. 

In a burst of restless energy, you dove into anything that might need your attention, and for a while, things seemed not too bad. You’d never been so productive as you were this morning, tackling bills, running small errands, and finally having a chance to look at all those little tasks you always put off. But there were only so many times you could reorganize the downloads folder on your laptop. 

And so, you sat on the ground with the gel warmer in your lap. You’d splayed open a pair of scissors to dig at the screws on the back of the device, twisting away to open the back panel. The warmer looked fine. All the lights blipped when they were supposed to, and it seemed to turn on, but, to the misfortune of your patients, the gel didn’t even seem to be at room temperature; it came out even cooler than when you put it in. 

Appearing to have all the time in the world, you tinkered away. Your phone sat face up next to you, your text conversation with Law pulled up, and it looked the same as it did last night. 

“How are things at main?” the text read to no reply. 

You didn’t want to push things. You were certain Law was having a tough time adjusting just as much as you were. While Franky was a skilled technician, he didn’t know Law’s patients as well as you did. A steep learning curve was the least of your concerns. You were sure no one was happy with this arrangement. 

The last screw finally popped loose, allowing you to remove the back panel. You tried to keep your mind busy by glancing over the components inside to see what might be caused your cold gel issue. Maybe the internal thermometer was damaged, or a battery was knocked out of place. You leaned back against the cabinet behind you, pulling your legs closer to your chest to bring the device closer to your face as you hunched over. 

You poked around with your finger until you finally found it—the sensor wire. It had slipped from the connector, just a thread away from disconnecting completely. You stared at the wire for a moment, holding it up with the pad of your finger. It was barely hanging on, just one breath from breaking. 

You carefully slid the wire back into place, secured it with a bit of wound tape, closed the back panel, and screwed it in. You set it on the counter, plugged it in, and waited. 

A light knock came from the door. Kaya poked her head in.

“I have one coming your way in just a minute,” she warned, whispering even though she didn’t need to. 

You offered her a friendly nod and a slight smile. 

“On it,” you said, and she disappeared back into the hall. 

You plucked a packet from the warmer and squirted a dollop on your wrist. It was warm. 

***

Penguin was waiting for you when you got home that night. You noticed the deadbolt wasn’t locked, and then you saw his old black-and-white jacket hanging by the front door. You put your things down, returning your keys and badge to the little cup on your counter, then kicked off your shoes.

“Get anything good?” You called. You could see the tip of Penguin’s socked toe from where he kicked his feet up on the armrest of your couch. 

“Brought you a combination plate,” he answered, barely making a gesture toward the counter.

The large paper bag he’d already torn open sat in a plastic skirt. You unearthed your take-out container from a jumble of utensils and sauces. You probably had fifty containers like it in the biggest drawer your kitchen had, and yet, you already knew you’d be adding this one and Penguin’s to your collection. Save a turtle, or something like that. 

You wandered over to the couch. Penguin was occupying almost all of it, curled on his side as he watched something on your TV. You nestled into the curve of his body, resting an elbow on his stacked knees and leaning back slightly against his stomach. 

“So,” you started, kicking your feet up on the coffee table, balancing your container on your slightly bent knees. You shifted, making yourself comfortable against Penguin. “What happened?”

“Hm? Nothing,” Penguin said, and perhaps if he were speaking to anyone else, it would’ve sounded convincing.

“I’m sure things over there aren’t the best,” you mused in between bites. “I’m sure Law is going on a rampage about his research. The entire department must be in complete chaos, with everything happening and the staffing swap. I should call Franky. I’m sure he’s as pissed as anyone.” 

Penguin remained silent, letting the voices on the television fill the space where he should have been talking. He was barely paying attention to the screen, his eyes glazed over as he zoned out into the flickering images. The hand that wasn’t propping his cheek brushed absentminded circles over your spine. 

That was his response for a few moments. You ate, watching whatever slop he had on as you waited. The two of you sat in relative silence in the comfortable isolation. Penguin played with the material of your scrubs.

“Is this okay?” He asked, his voice barely audible over the speakers. 

You poked around your dish, the after-work fatigue seeming to affect your concentration as well. You’d scarfed down a decent portion of your food, as if the nothingness you did all day had stimulated your appetite as much as a full day of clinic. 

“Penguin, I wouldn’t have given you a key if it wasn’t okay—”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Penguin cut in quickly. 

His voice lacked a snap, but the abruptness of his words made your fork pause. And for a moment longer, his hand rested at your side—neither caressing nor savoring, just there. Both of you kept watching the television, neither paying attention. 

“Is it okay for me to be touching you like this?” he questioned. A fragile tenderness softened his voice, turning his words into a whisper. You felt him seem to freeze against you.

You lowered your container, seemingly forgetting your food in that moment. You tilted your head slightly, your lips ready to respond. You leaned forward to set your dinner down. 

“I know we never really talked about what happened—”

“I’m… not worried about that.” 

By the time your dinner touched the coffee table, Penguin was already sitting up behind you, shifting his weight and drawing one knee to his chest. You sat side-saddle on the couch cushion. Penguin’s eyes were cast downward in thought.

He shook his head. “I’m not 'worried' worried—you know what I mean.”

You cracked a slight smile, placing a hand on his knee. “I think you might have to give me a little more information here,” you spoke softly, leaning a bit closer to study the troubled look on his face. 

You only pulled back slightly when Penguin’s head rolled upright, guilt flickering in his fleeting glance. You watched him breathe, and he only met your eye for a second, just long enough to say, “You’ve started calling him Law.” 

The words hit like a ping-pong ball in your chest, bouncing off your walls as you quickly tried to figure out what he was saying. You must’ve made a face, because Penguin sat up straighter, shaking his head again. 

“That came out wrong,” he groaned, burying his head in his hands.

You let out a nervous chuckle, eyes widening the slightest bit. “You’re makin’ me a little nervous.”

“I know, I know.” Penguin shook his head again, as if his thoughts would reset manually like his brain was an Etch-A-Sketch. He took another deep breath, his hands sliding from his face to clasp together in front of his chest. “When I say it, I don’t mean it in a jealous way or to guilt you.” He exhaled steadily. “It was... always going to be the two of you from the very beginning. The moment you started fighting... I think most of us knew it. I certainly did.” 

He lifted his head again, his eyes slightly drooping and haunted. He shook his head once more. He rubbed his eyes again. 

"And I like him for you... more than I did, anyway," he trailed off. "I bring it up because—and look, I don’t want it to sound like I’m trying to intrude on anything because I’m not, but... I just didn’t know if you were still holding onto your time at the North because of him,” Penguin finally admitted. 

“No,” you said quickly, perhaps too quickly. Your gaze flickered downward. “Not just him. I like being able to see you and Shachi. I don’t see Nami as often, but I’d miss her. And...” you trailed off, almost ashamed of the words about to come out. “I love what I do. I know people think that’s dumb—”

“It’s not dumb,” Penguin swiftly corrected you. You glanced up, still finding his gaze turned away. “You’re good, and not just good. You’re—you’re—” Penguin’s voice stalled in his throat as he searched for words. “You’re brilliant, and the patients you take are better off having seen you.” 

You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your lips. It had been a long time since you’d heard genuine praise for your work. But Penguin left no room for thanks, denials, or teasing. He continued, “Which is why I’ve never known why you’ve stayed all this time.” 

The television took up the room again, playing the credits to something neither of you had been watching anyway. You turned in your seat to fumble for the remote, swiftly switching the power off. The pixels collapsed into blackness, leaving the dark reflective screen behind. The vague reflections of you and Penguin remained behind. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, “I get that a lot…”

“Look, you know I love being able to see you most days. I’m sure Shachi would agree, but..." Penguin paused. “We were kinda surprised you stayed on when... You know, Eustass walked out.” 

He let the name sit in the stagnant air between you, as if Kid’s name on its own was a ticking time bomb that would explode any moment. But no explosion came. You weren’t sensitive to his name anymore, and it had happened so long ago that you’d come to terms with it a long time ago. 

“There’s no other place that offers what I want,” you said evenly, keeping your exterior level, if not resigned. 

Penguin watched you carefully, speaking your name exactly once. “They treat you like shit.”

You nodded. “I don’t disagree.”

“There are other places that do echoes,” Penguin debated, his tone picking up heat. “Smaller practices.”

“Those practices don’t have the volume—”

“But at least you’ll be recognized somewhere else.” Penguin didn’t yell, but his words cut through the room. “At least another practice would appreciate and recognize you, even if it’s not as many patients or—or complicated enoughcases.”

You’d heard the same words from a different man before, just in a slightly different form. But Penguin wasn’t anywhere near as angry as Kid was. Rather, he didn’t appear to be angry at all. His forehead scrunched in the way he usually appeared when he was overwhelmed, clutching his own hair at the root without noticing. 

Something happened today.

And he just wasn’t telling you. 

“Penguin.”

“I just don’t want you to stay because of Dr. T., which, I don’t know if it’s fair of me to say, but I’m saying it,” he confessed, sitting up straight for the first time since you’d started talking. Penguin’s legs shifted closer to his body to cross over one another. He squared his shoulders back, his hands landing in his lap. 

“I know he cares about you. He’s been fighting for you. He’s been doing more for you than… than I ever did, you know, about handing all this bullshit.” A breath in. A breath out. Penguin’s voice gained momentum like a snowball rolling down a hill. “And I know you care a lot about him, too, and his research, and I want you to be happy whether that’s with him or not—”

He’d begun to ramble at this point. “You, you could burn down the entire hospital, and if that would make you happy forever, I’ll bring the gasoline in a heartbeat, but—”

That was about the point where Penguin choked on his own air, stalling for just a moment to clear his throat. You passed him the water on the coffee table; he took it and brought it to his lips. He took a ship, and perhaps it was the water that extinguished the franticness in Penguin’s voice. 

“I don’t like what’s been happening to you,” he said, his voice calm. “I want you to resign.”

You didn’t have a response for him. Even if you did have easy words on the tip of your tongue, you wouldn’t have been able to say how much good they’d do. Your body went rigid as thoughts of the past swirled in your head. 

Penguin sighed. “I told you… It might not be fair for me to say, but I wanted to tell you what I thought… I’ll be with you no matter what. No matter what you choose.” 

You couldn’t even muster an acknowledgment. You didn’t know whether to be upset—whether to probe him further or just thank him for sharing with you in the first place. Penguin must’ve seen the hesitation on your face.

“Yeah,” he said, casting his gaze down as he moved to stand. “I thought I might’ve said too much. I should go.” 

You grabbed his sleeve as soon as he stood, holding him tightly where he was. “Put your show back on,” you told him softly, holding the remote out to him. 

You didn’t look at him. You likely wouldn’t for a long time, even as his eyes flickered from you to the remote and back. 

You could hear the parting of his lips and the subtle breath he took to speak. 

“Don’t,” you warned, tugging him back to the couch. 

Penguin slowly lowered himself, and as soon as you were sure that he’d comply with your silent request, you reached for your dinner again. You could sense Penguin’s confusion in the stiffness of his body alone, but you said nothing to reassure him. Rather, you slung a leg over one of his and resumed your now slightly colder meal. 

“Don’t say a word.”

To his credit, Penguin didn’t say a thing. He pressed the power button, and all was quiet.

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

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Glossary for Nerds

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

[yoononymous]

backkkkkk

[musapylsa]

chill

[uchihaxsasooke]

Humanity’s strongest

🖌️ grandgth | X

[r1y4tz]

Imagine going out to sea to find a crew and treasures and all that pirate crap just to find out you’re a long awaited god who’s supposed to overthrow the government and free the world from corruption

[xrnoodle]

happy birthday dear captain

[spammymusubi]

who's your friend? (｡· ヮ ·｡) (trafalgar law x reader) SMAU masterlist

y/n and law run into each other—literally—and think nothing of it. they don't expect to keep running into each other, and end up navigating the trials of undergrad, friends, and love together.

status: ongoing

tags: fem!reader, modern!au, university!au, nerd!law, pining, slow burn, mutual pining, crude language, bestfriend!zoro, eventual zosan, established namivivi, cliche tropes incoming, miscommunication, fluff, happy ending

i do NOT own any of the photos used in this series. photos sourced from pinterest and google, unless otherwise stated.

masterlist °.⊹📖.˖✧

🫀 indicates written part!

» ch 0.5 - student roster ch. 1 - i'm just a girl ch. 2 - sweet treat ch. 3 - mort dying in a glue trap » ch 3.5 - motorcycle man ch. 4 - tbd ch. 5 - tbd

and more on the way!

[fluffyartbl0g]

communal bathroom

[goth-queen]

[purghhappenings]

This is what marines have nightmares about

[insanjity]

♡ minors dni ♡

friends with benefits! zoro who swore this would be a one night thing. he told you it was just a drunken hook up, nothing more. little did he know, it became an arrangement, a means of exploring yourselves on a deeper level.

fwb! zoro who told you it was just practice, every time you kissed. you believed him, despite the way your bodies ended up tangled together. each makeout session - or 'practice', because that's all it was, right? - grew longer and more heated. his tongue dragging against yours, his lips sloppy and rushed. it felt good though, mainly because it was him.

fwb! zoro who made a habit of showing you how a lady should be ate out. his tongue delving in and out of your folds, his nose bumping your clit. he sucked away at your sensitive nub, letting his fingers curl in you as he practically made out with your pussy. he swore you'd make sure a man never ate you out the wrong way, teaching you how good you should feel.

fwb! zoro who lets you watch him train, taking in the way his muscles contract. he told you it was just so you could spot him, but you knew it was more. his eye always lingered on your body, your hands often stay too long when correcting his form. you knew he didn't need his form corrected, he just acted like he did when you were around.

fwb! zoro who swore he would never cum in you. at least, that's what the original plan was. he had made a habit of pulling out, cumming onto your thighs or stomach - arguably his two favorite spots on you. he was nasty, often licking up his own release, kissing your skin tenderly. eventually, he got to lazy, claiming your "pussy felt too good" and that "she's begging for my cum". you didn't mind the feeling, letting his release in you. it felt good, having zoro lay on top of you, not pulling out just yet.

fwb! zoro who never left a hickey on you. he didn't want the crew to know - after all, this was just experimenting, right? seeing what each of you liked, getting better acquainted with your sexual preferences. it was hard to find hookups when you were always at sea, even harder to find someone to settle down with. you and zoro's arrangement made that dilemma a bit easier to deail with.

fwb! zoro who kept a pair of your panties in his room. 'the laundry got mixed up, i guess' is all he said. you knew it was his way of making a tiny claim on you, a hidden way of leaving his mark. he was filthy, enjoying the way they smelt of you, the feel of them gliding on his shaft. he knew it was wrong, yet he didn't care.

fwb! zoro who told you he loved you one night, his brain mushy from the sake and the feel of you wrapped around him. he had your legs around his waist, his tip pressing so deeply and sweetly in you, you swore you were seeing stars. you brushed his comment off as drunken nonsense, but he meant it. deep down, he wanted you, just you.

fwb! zoro who was growing restless of this silent stake, restless of sanji and brook's comments on you. tired of the way people looked at you whenever the crew made a stop. he was sick of how men flirted with you at the bars, not wanting to give away the nature of your relationship, or the depth of his feelings towards you.

fwb! zoro who swore he remembered every curve of your body, the feel of your lips on him, the way you tighten around his cock when he pants out your name.

fwb! zoro who wanted nothing but you, yet stayed silent. he didn't dare let you know how attached he was to you. zoro intended to take these feelings to the grave, even if it killed him in the process.

© sanjity 2025 ⋆ please do not feed my work to ai, repost or translate my works on other media sites, such as, but not limited to: tiktok, wattpad, ao3, quotev, or other sharing sites ♡

[sanjisleggy]

doctor's prescription: bedrest and kisses (trafalgar law x reader)

summary: Law, as your captain, doctor and boyfriend, is not a big fan of how much you disregard your own wellbeing for the sake of others 

a/n: i’ve been feeling a rly strong urge to write so i couldn’t help working on this one while at work lol also if anyone is interested pls feel free to send in more requests!! :D

contents: gn!reader, worried!boyfriend law, fluff!!, very very mild angst bc i cannot help myself, descriptions of bodily injuries

wc. 3.1k

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Trafalgar Law is nothing if not incredibly perceptive when it comes to the welfare of his crewmembers; especially regarding a certain someone whose finger he’s, self-admittedly and wilfully, wrapped around. 

it’s an extremely subconscious habit but the Surgeon of Death constantly finds himself wondering where you are, mentally preparing to use his Room whenever you’re in situations that could result in injury, and even assigning you duties that take place closest to him just in case. 

it doesn’t help that you’re the Heart Pirates’ Master-at-Arms and also self-sacrificing to a fault–sometimes even during the most mundane of scenarios. 

just a couple of weeks ago you’d burnt your hand by accident whilst helping Penguin prepare dinner.

“stay out of the kitchen for at least a week, alright?” he said firmly after patching your hand up. “understand?” Law used a finger to tilt your head up just enough for your eyes to meet. 

“yes, sir!” you saluted with your good hand, eyes wide and sparkling with what he could only describe as mischief.

“what?”

“kiss it better?” you wiggled your eyebrows. 

“no.” 

“aw, lame.” you pouted. your boyfriend sighed and hoped desperately that his ears didn’t look as red as they felt warm before exiting the room.

just over an hour later, he was alerted by the sound of pots and pans clanging against the metallic floor of the Polar Tang. slamming the kitchen door wide open, he clicked his tongue at the sight of you and Penguin staring at him like deers caught in headlights; your bandaged hand hovered midair above several cooking instruments scattered all over the ground whilst Penguin held out a bowl of soup. 

“(Y/N)-ya, what did i say earlier?” Law scolded from the doorway in his best captain-voice, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

having been caught mid-bite, you shovelled the rest of the soup into your mouth before replying, “but Penguin needed a taste-tester and everyone else was busy.”

a week after the soup incident, you dislocated your shoulder during a mild scuffle with an enemy no-name pirate crew.

“it didn’t even hurt, cap’,” you declared almost proudly as you beamed up at him from where you sat on the stretcher. to anyone less acquainted with you than Law himself, you would’ve looked like a liar: face bruised, dried blood smeared across your broken bottom lip and arm in a sling after he popped your shoulder joint back into place.

Law, however, knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes; it was a duty he did not take likely but one that he took on willingly, no matter how difficult you made it for him sometimes.

he knew you weren’t lying when you said your injuries didn’t hurt–or at the very least, he knew you had an insanely high pain tolerance. you’d proven it time and again after years of fighting off marines and enemy pirates in order to keep your crew and captain safe.

“kiss it better?” you asked, snapping him out of his trailing thoughts. your free hand tugged lightly at his sleeve as you licked your lips, eyes staring intently into his own. he felt something deep in his chest jump a little bit.

“thought you said it didn’t hurt?” Law smirked whilst gently tugging himself free from your grasp.

“i’m still injured, though,” you argued back with barely any bite and a smile tugging at the edges of your lips. “maybe i’ll recover quicker if you kiss it, y’know? i read it in a book somewhere once.”

“i’ll need to read it from a credible source first before i believe it.” he replied, running his long fingers through your hair tenderly–a compromise, if you will. “what i do know is that you’re banned from carrying anything heavier than a mug of coffee for the rest of the month.” he gave you a pat on the head before leaving the room.

an hour later whilst in his office doing paperwork, the Surgeon of Death inexplicably felt his bullshit senses tingle followed by a loud–

BANG

without a second’s hesitation he used his Devil Fruit ability to Shambles himself to where he most highly suspected you were at at the time: Bepo’s quarters.

lo and behold, your captain caught his First Mate and Master-at-Arms frozen in the midst of… moving furniture?

“what… are you two doing?” he sighed deeply as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Bepo wanted to redecorate a little bit,” you replied, voice a tad softer than your usual speaking volume, eyes flickering between his face and the bookshelf that laid on the wrong side in front of you. Law opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by you quickly adding: “i’m not carrying anything, though! just… pushing.”

the bear Mink had to hide his snout behind his paws to stifle his laughter as he watched Law drag you away by your ear.

and now, currently, as he listens to the sound of the Polar Tang main hatch opening followed by Bepo’s muffled, panicked cries, Law knows you’ve done it again. 

rushing to the main lobby, he feels his heart stop at the sight of Shachi bleeding out in his First Mate’s arms. moving on pure instinct, Law barks orders to the rest of the crew. directing each and every one what to do specifically, the Captain sets in motion a seamless series of actions the Heart Pirates is best-known for; the most optimised procedures to ensure the recovery of whatever patient arrives at their doorstep.

it’s only after Shachi is carried off to the infirmary does a heavy, sinking feeling grip at his heart, weighing it down in his chest to the point of breathlessness as Law recalls the very first thought he had when he heard the ruckus from his office.

“Captain!” Bepo cries, shaking his arms and leaving behind patches of blood on his sleeves. “it’s (Y/N)! they’re fighting the Marines alone! they need your help!”

just over a kilometre from where the Polar Tang had docked, you stand, legs trembling, in a sea of bodies adorned in marine uniforms. blood pours from a deep cut in your forehead, thankfully avoiding your eyes as the thick liquid flows down your face and drips onto your exposed tanktop; the upper-half of your boiler suit having been torn off in the midst of battle earlier.

gripping onto your bloodsoaked sabre with your right hand, you give it a quick flick to rid it of its grime and allow yourself a brief chance to mentally reset. with a bullet in one thigh and another in your left shoulder, you conclude quickly that you stand little chance of actually winning this final battle.

the last marine standing is the one you’re sure orchestrated the ambush. 

they had attacked swiftly, sniping Shachi from an unknown location before descending upon your little resupply group. you’d commanded Bepo to grab Shachi and run, to get him treated as soon as possible and to call for backup from Law. the First Mate had hesitated initially, unwilling to leave you to fend off so many enemies alone. 

“go!” you barked, infusing your sabre and pistol with haki as you readied yourself for battle. “you know how strong i am,” you added in a gentler tone when you catch a glimpse of the tears pooling on Bepo’s eyes, “i’ll be okay.”

“i’m impressed, Heart Pirate,” the nameless Vice Admiral snarls before launching into a monologue you quickly tune out of in favour of wondering if he’s a nepo baby. piles of his men lay dead or, at the very least, barely clinging onto life, all around him and yet it seems his only concern is virtue signalling to no one in particular. 

‘hopefully Bepo and Shachi made it back safely, at least,’ you think to yourself as you spit out a thick clot of blood that had been forming in your mouth. 

you sneak a glance at the pistol you usually wield in your non-dominant hand as it lays uselessly on the ground in a pool of blood. resigning yourself to a close-combat duel, you lift your sabre and charge.

by the time Law arrives on the scene, only one person remains breathing.

“hey, Captain,” you choke out, your speech impeded not only by the blood gathering in your mouth but also the rawness of your throat. he catches you in his arms before you hit the ground as your knees finally give out.

less than a few metres away lays the body of the Marine Vice Admiral; he’d stuttered out his final breath just seconds before Law teleported his way to you.

“he definitely was a nepo baby,” you mumble, words slurring incoherently as you feel your partner lift you into his strong arms. you lean the side of your sweaty, blood splattered head against his chest and keep your eyes open just long enough to catch a glimpse of his face. 

Law’s skin looks pale and his eyebrows are furrowed together tighter than usual. if you listen closely enough, you can hear how fast his heart’s beating. his lips are moving and you vaguely feel the rumble of his chest as he speaks but you can’t process any of his words.

you imagine he’s telling you how reckless and stupid you are, though, you know what he always means instead is how worried and scared he is, even if he never says it aloud.

“don’t worry…” you murmur, eyelids growing heavier by the second. “…doesn’t hurt at all.”

–

you wake up a few days later in a room that suspiciously does not look like the infirmary.

blinking away the dryness in your eyes, you take a gander at your surroundings and realise you’re in Law’s office. the bed you’re laying in looks extremely out-of-place, wedged into the corner that used to be occupied by a couch you regularly take naps on during your free time.

catching a glimpse of the calendar Law keeps pinned to the wall, you realise it’s Wednesday and your body goes into autopilot. in spite of the extreme soreness and aching in your bandaged limbs, you crawl out of bed and grab one of the spare uniforms you keep in the office. right as you’re putting it on as slowly as possible so as to not further aggravate the flaring agony in your bones, the door swings open.

“ah–” you squeak in surprise as you freeze in place, one leg already in the boiler suit while the other hovers midair, halfway to reaching its final destination–the other pant leg. 

meanwhile, your captain and beloved partner stands in the doorway with a mug of coffee in one hand as his jaw drops open. his hair looks rustled and his eyebags seem darker than usual.

“it’s my turn to be on watch duty…?” you say so sheepishly it comes out sounding like a question rather than an excuse.

continuing to say absolutely nothing, Law simply holds out his hand and Shambles away your boiler suit, leaving you standing in the middle of the room in just your tanktop and underwear. under any other circumstance you would definitely begin teasing him and calling him a pervert or whatever but his gaze is so heavy you can’t bring yourself to make any jokes right now.

“get back into bed,” he demands, shutting the door behind him. “now!”

you crawl back into the out-of-place infirmary bed but refrain from lying down as you watch Law drag his chair over to your bedside. after plopping into it, he sighs and just stares at you for a second.

you can almost feel his eyes scanning every inch of exposed skin; from your forehead to your toes before returning back to your face.

“you died for a few minutes, you know that?” he says softly and you feel your breath hitch in your throat. “for a moment we all thought you weren’t coming back.” Law leans forward to rest his elbows on the mattress before hunching over to rest his face in his hands, his hair brushes the end of your chin, and he lets out a deep sigh.

carefully you raise your hand to run your fingers through his messy locks. it’s only then you realise how much your body’s trembling just from the sheer effort of lifting one hand up.

“i’m sorry…” you whisper, patting his head slowly.

“no, you’re not,” he snorts into his palms. “you’d do it all again in a heartbeat if it means keeping everyone else safe. that’s just the kind of person you are.”

Law’s tone of voice sounds so resigned and helpless, almost, that you feel your bottom lip wobble as your eyes begin to burn with tears. you’d always known he worries about you the most; since out of everyone on the crew, aside from himself, you face the most combat but it’s never really dawned on you until now how much of a toll it takes on him.

“but no matter how much i hate seeing you get hurt,” he continues, keeping his face buried in his hands as he remains hunched over, “i can’t find it in myself to hate how selfless you are. i just wish you’d realise how much your life means to me–to everyone on this crew… and how heartbroken we’d all be if you died because you valued it less than we do.”

unable to hold back any longer, you allow yourself to sob freely as your heart aches from his confession. for a man who so regularly hides behind a facade of indifference, you know it must’ve taken so much out of him to speak so vulnerably.

“i’m sorry, Law, i really am,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders as you rest your head on top of his. it’s then he releases himself from his hunched position and instead pulls you into a proper hug, tucking your head under his chin as he holds onto you tightly, as though if he tried hard enough, he could tuck you into his heart for safekeeping.

“just…” he sighs once more as he presses his lips against the crown of your head, muffling his words. “be more careful next time. have more faith in your captain and crewmates ability to take care of themselves–and you.”

you nod, rubbing your face against his chest. “i promise i will but in all honesty… i can’t guarantee it won’t happen again.” your fingers curl against his back, gripping onto the fabric of his shirt. “i’m not good at medicine or cooking but i do know how to use haki and fight. it’s still my responsibility to keep everyone safe, y’know?”

“i know, i know,” Law murmurs softly into your hair, rubbing his warm hands up and down your arms. “just keep what i said in mind every time we’re in a scuffle, alright?” you feel his lips curl into a smirk. “i know i’m a damn good doctor but i can’t keep performing miracles just to have you in my life for an extra day.”

you hum thoughtfully. “sounds like you’re a real sucker for my company, huh, Captain?” 

“tragically so.”

“in that case, i’ll consider being even more careful if you…” you pull your head away from his chest and peer up at him with a familiar look in your eyes. he quirks an eyebrow. “gimme kisses?”

to your surprise, Law leans down, seemingly without a second thought, and begins to pepper kisses all over your face. from your forehead to the tip of your nose, to the apples of your cheeks, the corners of your mouth and the end of your chin. all the while you bask in the rare display of affection, letting out soft hums of glee that make his ends of his lips curl as he presses them against your tender, healing skin. 

he tops it off by kissing you deeply, straight on the mouth. the gesture flusters you so greatly you feel your entire face burning up as your heart leaps in your chest. your hands trail from the back of his shirt down to the ends of his sleeves before you tug on them firmly, silently urging him to climb into bed with you.

with a soft hum, and whilst keeping his lips on yours the entire time, Law carefully crawls over to lay by your side, his strong arms pulling you close despite the spaciousness of the mattress. 

finally pulling away for air, he lets out a deep chuckle when you lean in for more, chasing after his swollen lips with your own.

“i’ll give you more later if you stay in bed and rest properly, deal?” he says with a soft look on his tired face. 

“gimme kisses and cuddles and i’ll stay in bed as long as you want,” you reply as you rub the tip of your nose against his. “y’know i read it in a book somewhere about how patients who get extra love from their handsome doctor boyfriends recover super quick.”

“hmm is that so?”

“mmhmm.” you nod, already shuffling closer to bridge the space between your mouth and his.

“guess i can’t argue with science.” Law shrugs and closes the gap.

–

bonus:

the Heart Pirates crew is quick to catch on to the special treatment their captain has been giving their Master-at-Arms throughout the course of the latter’s recovery.

“shut up, it’s basically just bribery to keep them in bed,” Law said once during dinner when Shachi and Penguin were being particularly insufferable about how soft their captain was behaving. his response inadvertently sparks an idea in many of the crewmembers’ heads.

everyday you would have visitors coming in and out of Law’s office, where you still reside, to either keep you company or just check up on you–or so they claim. 

sure, they’ll come in and chat with you for a while or bring you some snacks when you’re feeling peckish but they always end up giving you a little kiss before leaving. Bepo loves kissing the crown of your head, Shachi prefers your cheeks, Ikkaku likes your nose and Penguin adores kissing your forehead.

Law tolerates it initially since it’s clear you enjoy the attention, plus he can’t bring himself to stop his crewmates from showing their love for you in such a harmless manner. however, after Penguin gives you a particularly wet smooch on your forehead–ellicting an especially sweet giggle from you–Law decides it’s becoming a bit much.

later that day, a sign appears on his office door that stats only the captain can give bed-bound patients kisses. 

(he removes it a week later when Shachi demands a kiss from him after becoming bedridden with the flu) 

–

gen taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui @paraparakiss @krooschl @teewon @olliesoxenfree @misstraffy @riftmage27 @aletch @somatchajade @kitsunechan707 @thesmolestsage @lunaizhere @saint-atlas @goldenpanda16 @jordan03400 @rebeccawinters @glorywielder101 @slytherinambitious @the0twst0shrimp0mc @stuckinmymind22 @lxpofthegods @huffle-my-puffs @imhwajaez @to-move-on-means-to-grow @fruitncandy @starchild-unnamed @sagyunaro

law taglist: @stuckinthewrongworld

[pfpanimes]

⌕ one piece • law.

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[soft-niku-and-sake]

Zoro in Wano is literally the definition of "Wherever you go, I'll follow"

DO. NOT. SEPARATE