#lanlanwrites

So, when you inevitably got caught red handed (nothing can get past the captain), it came as a shock when his stern expression softened, “Do you understand any of it?”

In the midst of your bewilderment, the best answer you, an aspiring medical professional, could conjure up was a shrug and a nervous grin. His compassion flustered you.

At that point, he’d taken the book from you (which was to be expected), and flipped through the chapter you left off on–the skeletal system. After a beat of silence, he finally turned back to you, “Then I’ll teach you.”

. . .

Since then, you had come to know every bone in the body by name, location, and function, understood the role of osteoblasts, and studied various orthopedic conditions and their treatments. Now, you were exploring skeletal muscles. Despite this being your nth lesson over the past several weeks, you could never quite adjust to the…intensity of his lectures.

“Flexion and contralateral rotation,” you refocused and the words finally tumbled out. He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he watched your reflection with half-lidded but sharp eyes. A faint hum of approval left his throat, “Good. Show me.” Inked hands, traced your jaw to tilt your head, demonstrating the motion. Your head slowly tilted forward before carefully rotating. His touched wasn’t forceful, rather it was expectant, as if he figured you were going to follow through.

“Don’t memorize names,” Law’s hands relaxed, but didn’t leave your neck. You nodded, although your focus had admittedly been alternating between the lesson and the way his breath ghosted over your skin. “It’s more important to understand physiology. You cannot fix anything if you don’t know how something moves…or breaks.” An intimate quiet took over the room, interrupted only by the familiar creaks and groans the Polar Tang made with the ocean’s turbulence. You abashedly averted your gaze, in fear he could read your thoughts. Despite this, you felt his eyes linger on you, studying your features and your reactions.

Your captain finally broke the silence, “The sternocleidomastoid, in my opinion, is a solid conceptual transition point between the trunk and the craniofacial muscles,” his voice dropped an octave as you allowed his hand to slide upward, fingertips tracing the cordlike muscle from your clavicle to the underside of your jaw. His touch grew lighter, transitioning from the firmness of an instructor to the feather-light graze of someone focused on sensation.

“Let’s start with the masseter.”

. . .

He broke from his upright stance and discarded his coat, allowing his tattooed arms to be exposed. Instead of pulling away from you, he pulled up an ottoman and sank down, sitting in the narrow space between the mirror and yourself so you were eye-to-eye with him.

You took a steadying breath, “The masseter…” You moved your hands to press your fingertips into the angle of your jaw, before being halted by Law.

“This time, I want you to do the talking. I’ll do the demonstrating. Try your best to teach me about the craniofacial muscles.”

He gently took your wrists and guided them to his own face. His palms were roughened from both training and the meticulous handwashing of a doctor.

You realized that you’ve never been this close to your captain. You’ve always studied him from a distance, but never close enough to see the cracks in his composed exterior. You noticed the exhaustion in his eyes, the dark rims from sleepless nights and a past he never spoke of. There was a rough texture to the stubble along his chin and jawline, a stark contrast to his meticulous demeanor. And then, there was his scent. He smelled of a combination of sterile antiseptic, salty ocean air, and wood.

“The masseter,” you repeated after coming back to your senses, your voice miraculously steady despite the way you could feel your face heating up. Despite your attempts to keep the physical contact clinical, both you and him were well aware of how your fingertips betrayed you, lingering just a little too long on the heat of his skin.

The lesson continued. You recalled the names of the muscles as the textbook states, before explaining their respective functions and motions. Your voice found a practiced rhythm, a subconscious attempt to prove to yourself that you won’t crumble under such pressure. Law blinked to demonstrate the orbicularis oculi muscles, his eyelashes casting flickering shadows along his cheekbone. You couldn’t help but use this brief moment to admire the amber of his eyes.

When you reached the zygomaticus major, the corners of his mouth lifted to demonstrate its contraction. The ghost of a smile played on his lips, and seeing that sliver of warmth chipped away at the professional detachment you tried so hard to maintain. Your hands drifted lower, cupping his face and brushing the hollows of his cheeks.

“And this is the… buccinatus?” You faltered.

He corrected you, “Close. Buccinator.” 

“Right.” You pretended not to notice his subtle lean into your palms, his weight shifting towards you ever so slightly. “It’s responsible for compressing the cheeks, I remember that at least.”

Hesitantly, your palms slid down. Your thumbs rested just above his chin to trace the muscle, an attempt to maintain a safe distance in fear of overstepping an invisible line.

“Then, we have the orbicularis oris.”

You looked down at his lips, before quickly glancing aside, overly mindful of your lingering eyes. You shifted your focus upwards to his, opening your mouth to speak, before you noticed that Law was gazing at your own parted lips.

The silence between the two of you grew heavy with silent tension. You froze like a deer in headlights as he observed the way your breath hitched and how you tried to find your voice once again.

“Orbicularis oris, it’s functions are…” You whispered. The words died in your throat, a futile distraction from the sudden shrink in distance between the two of you. When did he get this close?

He didn’t wait for you to finish your sentence–or your thoughts. Law cupped your face, mirroring your own hand placement on him, and bridged the agonizing inch of distance. When his lips met yours, the firm resolve he always had seemed to melt away. What remained was gentle and grounding. One of his hands slowly slid from your cheek to the nape of your neck, steadying you as though he feared you might break. Your fingers tangled into his dark, messy locks of hair, deepening the contact and eliciting a low groan from him.

With this, his hold on you tightened and he surrendered to the contact. It was as if the fear of losing control got replaced with the fear of letting you go. You wrapped an arm around his torso, pulling yourself flush onto him. His tongue swiped at your bottom lip, asking for permission, which you granted by opening your mouth wider and letting him in. Every frantic press of his lips to yours, every slide of his tongue grew dizzying and intoxicating. You trailed a path of searing, wet kisses from his lips to the corner of his mouth, nipping at the skin and making him shudder.

The kiss didn’t end so much as it slowly receded like the tide. Law was the one to break the seal first, pulling back just enough to breathe, though the separation and loss of warmth ached. Law stayed close, his forehead pressing to yours. Your breaths mixed, ragged and hot. The lingering heat between you and him felt as if it were fading with the lack of contact, and the air suddenly felt too empty.

As the initial rush of that break in composure faded, the silence that rushed into the room felt cold. You felt the change. His hands, tenderly holding you, suddenly stiffened. His breath, ragged and warm against your lips, hitched, before steadying into something controlled.

With grace, he rose from his sitting position. His eyes swirled with something completely unreadable. His hands, which cradled your face earlier, moved down to rest at your hips as helped you up from your seat. Your legs felt like liquid as he took a small step back from your personal space. The air was electric, charged with all of the unspoken words from countless lessons prior.

“Damn it.” He exhaled. His words sounded like surrender, rather than anger, “Do you understand how difficult it is to pretend you don’t affect me?”

He huffed out a half-laugh, half–sigh. His grip around your waist around you loosened so he could get a better look at your face.

“Since I was a child, I studied the inner workings of the human body. I could tell you about how heart rate variability decreases under stress. The autonomic nervous system responds to external stimuli, such as temperature, movement, and breathing patterns.”

He paused, brushing the hair out of your face.

“What I can’t explain is why these things are triggered by your presence, when they shouldn’t be.”

You finally pinpointed what you saw in your captain’s eyes: Uncertainty. Law was far from an emotionless machine, but he kept his cards close to his chest, making him largely unreadable. This was one of the first times in a long while that he faced a problem without having a thorough plan to manage it– because the easy way out would be to ignore all the gentle touches, lingering gazes, soft-spoken words you and he exchanged. Pretend it never happened. But his heart, body, and soul betrayed him, telling him otherwise.

“...Does it bother you?”

Your question hung in the air, fragile but intimidating. A look of appalment flickered across his features. Law leaned in, his forehead dropping to rest against yours.

“It doesn’t just bother me,” he whispered, voice laced with raw honesty, “It’s a complication. An unpredictable variable. There’s no way to cut out the way you make me feel without disrupting my own balance.”

Law took your hands, tracing your knuckles, “...But more than anything, I want to understand this.”

You pressed your lips to his.

“Then I’ll teach you.”

Part 2 (MDNI)

. . .

You’re right, and he was well aware of it. This wouldn’t be a simple decision for anyone–especially him. Every outcome had weight, and Law had no room to miscalculate any variables.

“No,” he exhaled, “That’s not it. The problem is, once you mean it, I won’t be able to treat it like something fickle or insignificant.” “I’m not expecting us to contain it.” You didn’t flinch. “I understand what this entails.”

“Is that so?” He glanced down, “If this crosses a line, the crew will notice. It’s not a matter of if it happens, it’s a matter of when. And when they notice, everything changes.”

He went still. Silence fell upon the room once more, before he spoke again, quieter. “What do you think?”

“I’m willing to face it.” “Even if it could make you a liability?” His words had no bite, “You’d become a target to rival crews if the word got out, and you’re not someone I could afford to jeopardize.”

You studied Law’s features for some time. His brows were still furrowed with concern, but his eyes softened. His gaze was less guarded than before, it now held a sincerity that betrayed what he was actually saying. 

You gave yourself a moment to absorb his worries. “I understand where you’re coming from. However, as a crew, we’ve been caught in difficult situations countless numbers of times. We’ve also learned to navigate through the uncertainty.”

Taking a step forward, “And after leading this crew for so long, you should know better than anyone that knowing the risks doesn’t mean you run away from everything. It means you decide if they’re worth it.”

As you inched closer, he leaned towards your warmth. In the end, he didn’t want logic or agreement, he needed reassurance. You then turned his own question back to him, “What do you think?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his hands moved to trace your waistline, testing the waters, before circling around to meet on the small of your back. “I think you already know my answer,” he breathed slowly, “It was just a matter of if I was going to say it out loud.”

A smirk played on your lips. “...Now, shall we begin our first lesson?”

“...Yes.”

You didn’t dive in rashly. Gradually bringing your lips to his, you tilted your head into a kiss that showed you were present and safe. The motion was more than just a kiss, it was a demonstration of how to breathe, how to linger, how to let the sensation settle into him. You felt the man soften under your touch further, as if he wasn’t already putty in your hands. Your gentle hands cupped his face, thumbs stroking along his cheekbones as though they could soothe the exhaustion that was carved into him. His palms rose to mirror yours, framing your face as though he feared you’d slip away. 

Bodies pressed together, the uncertainty in your captain seemed to fade. Law grew more confident in his movements, placing a delicate hand on the back of your head. His breathing steadied against yours and the tension in his shoulders loosened, causing you to drape both arms around them.

Your captain pulled away from you, not for distance, but just far enough that he could get a good look at your face. A light blush dusted your cheeks, your dilated pupils were slightly concealed by tousled hair, and it was beautiful in a way that echoed in his mind for longer than he expected.

“Is this okay, Captain?” You chuckled softly, noticing the contemplative look in his eyes.

“...Yeah.” His thumb traced circles on your back as he absorbed the way you called him captain.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to the corners of his mouth. “What about this?” He nodded quietly without hesitation. Soft kisses followed, on his forehead, his temple, peppering his cheeks and jawline. By the time you reached the sensitive skin of his neck, his breathing was deeper, edged with slipping control. A low hum slipped from him, vibrating against your skin.

“You’re testing me…” he mumbled almost begrudgingly, while unconsciously tilting his head upwards to give you more access. His body language had a tendency to betray him. The way a simple touch could make his muscles feel loose, or the way your scent nearly clouded his sense of logic were sensations entirely foreign to him. His hand, which had been lazily tracing circles on your back, trailed down to the hem of your shirt, hesitantly toying with and tugging at it.

You pulled away from his neck, which now bloomed with small purple-red hickeys. Noticing his hand’s placement, you nodded at him, pressing your forehead to his, before backing up to help him take your top off. The submarine air was cool against your skin, but the chill didn’t last when it quickly got replaced by the heat radiating from Law.

He had seen you nude dozens of times as the token doctor of the crew. The routine physical examinations, the wrapping and unravelling of bandages, the inspection of battle wounds, all of which were done with the detached attitude and eyes of a physician. But this wasn’t a patient anymore, this was you. 

Law remained frozen, his hand still grasping your discarded top with wide eyes fixed on you. For a man known to be highly observant, calculated, and understanding of the human form, he looked completely lost. The surgeon in him knew he was looking at the clavicle. The man in him was trying to process why he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

You noticed the flicker of shock in his golden eyes. Who wouldn’t? Taking a deliberate step forward, your hands found the edge of his tank top, fingers brushing up against the warm, tanned skin of his sides. His breath hitched, telling you how much you were affecting him. 

“May I?” You finally asked. He nodded, letting the white fabric slide up his skin to reveal his toned torso and the ink that swirled on his chest. Scars wove across his tan skin, some pale and depressed, others jagged and dark. A happy trail ran down below his navel, disappearing beneath his trousers. You discarded the fabric onto his desk, which was littered with various books and documents.

For a beat, Law simply watched you, his amber eyes looking at your features in a daze. Suddenly remembering his role in the lesson, his hands began to move and he let his lips find yours again.

His hands were large and calloused from years of handling weapons, but they handled you with a surgical precision. He didn’t rush, he explored you with something adjacent to worship. Palms sliding from your back, memorizing the dip of your waist, and tracing the undersides of your ribs, he quietly observed and took mental note of everything that made you shudder, everything that made your breath catch, everything that made you kiss him deeper.

Drifting higher, his fingers made contact with the swell of your breasts, heat impossibly seeping through the fabric of your bra. You let out an encouraging exhale, briefly pulling your face away from his, “That’s it,” You murmured, “You can touch me. I won’t break.”

Swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat before he reached to unclip your bra and cupped your breasts as they fell.

“Beautiful.” He whispered, before craning his head to place a trail of searing kisses across your clavicle, down your sternum, before tentatively nipping at and sucking the soft skin of your nipple. He looked up, mesmerized by the flush of your face and how wide your eyes were blown. 

Dark, wine-colored love bites emerged where his soft lips left your skin, they scattered across your chest and shoulders. “So,” his breath was hot against your skin, “Am I doing this correctly?” You could almost hear a slight smile in his voice. He already knew the answer.

And god, how could you say no to the longing look he wore? You let your fingers intertwine in his hair, guiding him up to your eye level as heat pooled between your legs. Anticipation coiled in you, and drawn by the gentleness of his touch, you reached down, fingers hooking onto the belt loop of his jeans. Looking at him through your lashes, you paused and waited for affirmation that he was ready for the lesson to continue.

After receiving a nod, your hands deftly worked at the buttons of his pants and pulled them down. His length tented his boxers, and from its peak, you could see the faint outline of precum that already clung to the inside of the fabric. Finally removing the last layer of garments, Law shuddered at the air’s chill.

His cock sprang free, tapping against his abdomen in a way that made you breath hitch. It was thicker than you imagined, curving slightly upward–the kind of shape that promised to stretch you perfectly. The tip was flushed a deep, swollen pink, glistening with a bead of pre that trailed down the underside of his shaft, disappearing into the hair of his happy trail.

You realized you were staring, mouth slightly agape, and you felt heat creep up your neck. Law seemed to notice the weight of your gaze, instinctively shifting and averting his eyes. He was used to maintaining awareness of himself, his crew, even the space around him through his devil fruit ability. This was completely foreign. He was undeniably ready for whatever was to come, but still moved with something comparable to caution. 

Regaining your focus, your fingers slowly wrapped around his length, gently stroking it from the base to tip, swiping your thumb around it every so often. His hips trembled, and you took this moment to gradually coax him to lean on the nearby desk. Resting his arm on it, he grounded himself, while his free hand scrunched at the hair on his head.

Law wasn’t new to sexual stimulation by any means, but he wasn’t someone who masturbated on a regular basis either. More than anything, he was a man of pragmatism who knew how to tend to his own needs. He simply viewed it as a way to alleviate built up pressure so he could return to his normal duties.

This, however, was entirely different. When he sought release in solitude, it was a controlled environment with predictable sensation. What was unfolding before him was nothing short of chaotic, messy, unpredictable in his eyes, yet he enjoyed every second of it. The warmth of your skin, your scent, the way your eyes studied him, and how your movements lacked predictability threatened his already breaking composure.

You pressed a deep kiss to his lips, swallowing his suppressed noises as you continued pumping him. You moved, grazing your lips down the column of his throat, revisiting the marks you left at his chest, before continuing down his midsection until you were face to face with his core. 

Your tongue darted out, wetting your lips in a way that made the tension in him tighten. With agonizing slowness, you tentatively pressed a soft kiss to his sensitive tip, making his hips involuntarily jerk. Emboldened, you licked a long stripe from the underside of the base to the slit. The taste was mild and salty as you let it swirl on your tongue.

Law whispered your name, like a plea or a warning–it was unclear. Conflict was written all over him: The surgeon who was well aware of every nerve ending in the body had been reduced to someone who forgot how to breathe. Your hand gave his cock attention at its base, before you released him from your mouth with a resounding pop.

“Use your words, Captain.” Your words puffed cool air on the crown of him, “Or I’ll assume you don’t like it.”

His hand landed in your hair–not to push you away, rather to anchor himself. Your words felt too close to an order for his comfort, “Tch…don’t stop.” He reluctantly choked out, as if admitting it meant submitting. Despite this, he didn’t dare back down.

You didn’t rush. Instead, you let your tongue trace around him once more, savoring his anticipation and the way his hips bucked towards you, before parting your lips and drawing him in. The heat of your mouth was overwhelming on him, as his length was overwhelming for you. You accommodated him inch by inch, moaning softly at the feeling of his hands tightening in your hair and guiding you. 

Bobbing your head back and forth, your throat relaxed and found a rhythm. Rubbing your thighs together, you made a futile effort to alleviate the tightness building within you. His body trembled with the effort of holding back after peering down at your lips wrapped around him. 

“Slow, slow,” he whispered, afraid of the moment ending as soon as it began. Moving his hand from your hair to the side of your face he wiped away the tears that pricked the corners of your eyes from taking so much of him at once. He stifled a louder moan as your tongue swiped around a particularly sensitive vein.

Faint clicks of separation and near-silent smacking sounds echoed in the room until the tension in his body reached a breaking point. Law’s hips began to stutter, his movements losing their typical grace and developing a disorderly rhythm, involuntarily pressing deeper into your throat.

He finally broke, hissing your name repeatedly like a prayer while moaning and tilting his head back to continue his shallow thrusts. With one final twitch, his warm cum spilled out, dripping down the sides of your mouth and onto your tits, painting them milky white.

His high faded into a series of long, trembling exhales. Law didn’t immediately pull away, instead crouching down to tilt your chin up, gaze fixed on you as if he was trying to commit your blushing face to memory. 

His skin was feverish as he pressed deliberate kisses to your cheeks and forehead, “Are you okay?” His voice was low and steady, but not completely unaffected. His eyes lingered on you for longer than necessary, not absentmindedly, but pensively.

“Yes,” you were still trying to catch yourself.

Law couldn’t ignore it. The way your thighs pressed together, the way the rhythm of your breathing didn’t match your actions. A quiet exhale left him, “You didn’t finish.”

Wordlessly, he grasped your hips, turning around to set you down on the desk. It was still warm from his presence. Leaning over you, his uneven breath passed on the shell of your ear. “I want to try something.” A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

There was a pause, just long enough for you to answer or pull away if you wanted. His hands slid down your thighs, parting your legs with an unexpected precision and confidence that made your breath hitch. Law deftly tugged your pants and undergarment past your hips, stripping away the final barrier.

“I’m a quick study,” he murmured against your skin, “...And you’re not someone who’s difficult to read.” He eyed your dripping core, before looking back at your face to ensure this was truly what you wanted. Your lips parted in shock at the sudden shift in dynamic, before you closed them and nodded once more.

Settling his face between your plush thighs, his tongue gingerly swiped from your entrance to your clit, making you squirm. The stubble on his jaw brushed against your adductors, and the motion was enough to make your hips push up, chasing the sensation. Law didn’t recoil from your motion, he instead leaned into it. His hands grasped around you, thumbs running circles on your upper thigh. 

He transitioned from the tender, languid swipes to a more purposeful rhythm. His tongue swirled at a torturously unhurried pace around your most sensitive point, before sucking your clit and lapping up your juices. There was a curious, almost experimental nature to the way he worked, trying different angles and pressure as he silently watched your responses.

This mindset of his began to falter and get drowned out by something almost instinctual as the heat between the two of you intensified. He stopped thinking about how to make you unravel, and started to simply feel what made you quiver, what made you cry out, what made you tangle into his hair, while calibrating himself to match with your needs.

His tongue fucked in and out of your entrance, prodding at your soft walls and feeling them clench around him. He was consumed by your pleasure, overwhelmed by the salt of your skin and the intoxicating taste of your arousal. 

“Law… Law, please,” You gasped as you felt your climax approaching. His speed did not change as your walls began to flutter around his tongue. You grinded your aching heat on him as your pleas faded in a shattered moan. 

“Mhm, that’s it…” He purred, his voice vibrating at your core, “Come on my mouth.” His tongue rode you through your release, his hands squeezing your hips as if he intended to hold you together as you came apart. The only thing he lamented about the moment was the fact that he couldn’t see your blissed-out face with his face between your thighs.

Calming down from your peak, your limbs felt heavy and numb. Law peered up at you from between your legs. His lips and chin glistened with your slick, which he was quick to wipe away as he stood back up to get a better look at you. He interlocked his fingers with yours and traced smooth circles over your knuckles as you caught your breath.

“Are you alright?” He asked before kissing your temple. You managed a weak nod, giving him a faint smile.

Amidst your afterglow, Law pulled free the clothes on the desk from beneath you, straightening up the clutter on it. It seemed he couldn’t entirely shake his habit of taking care of what needed tending to. Careful to avoid disturbing or overstimulating your weary body, he helped you off of the table and into your garments before putting on his own. He didn’t move away once you were dressed, instead putting his hands on your shoulders and smoothing over edges that didn’t need fixing.

“Was your first lesson what you expected?” You finally broke the silence. Bending down to help with some documents that took a fall during the shuffling from earlier, you let out a quiet chuckle. 

“Sit,” he murmured, reaching out to guide you to the chair where the lesson started at, “Don’t push yourself.”

It seemed he couldn’t entirely shake his habit of taking care of what needed tending to. Right now, that meant you. Snaking both arms around your shoulders from behind your seat, he leaned forward slightly. 

“No, it wasn't what I expected...” he paused, arms tightening around you ever so slightly, “But I wouldn’t mind continuing.” 

. . .

After the first session, you and Law developed a routine of sorts. He would teach you about the human body, then you would help him explore the human mind. Your relationship did not have a concrete definition, it extended far beyond professionalism, but fell a bit short of lovers. It wasn’t that you didn’t want clarity or definition, you just couldn’t find an adequate time to approach the topic yet.

His feelings towards you were both obvious and unorganized. There was something undeniably there. However, it was for the best to be the guiding hand for Law to understand those emotions at his own pace, as opposed to making him rush into something he did not have the time or experience to familiarize himself with.

Despite how his anatomy lectures always seemed foreplay-esque, your lessons weren’t always about sex. Many nights, you’d grab a tray of warm tea, watch the fragrant steam curl up into the air, and let your academic exchanges gradually dissolve into casual conversation.

You learned he preferred his tea bitter, but liked his coffee on the sweeter side. He opened up about having a mild appreciation for comics and robots, though you could tell by the way his eyes lit up amidst his otherwise deadpan expression that it was far more than mild. You didn’t call him out on it.

Conversations about life, about the future would often unfold while you made yourself comfortable on his lap. You’d open up about your past and reminisce on the circumstances leading up to you meeting the man. He didn’t speak much about his own history, but you didn’t mind.

The memory and connection of those nights lingered, but it surely didn’t match the heat of the current moment.

Presently, he had you on his lap once more, but the easy conversation was gone. At the mirror in the study, he positioned you with your back flush to his bare chest, so you could see the reflection clearly. His hands didn’t linger and hover as they did during his own lessons. Now, one of them held your leg up, while the fingers on his other hand traced around your entrance at an agonizingly slow pace.

Hickeys were already painted on your shoulders, easy to hide–he wasn’t especially pleased with the interrogation from Penguin and Shachi about the mark you’d left on his neck before. Trembling at how exposed you felt, you shared a kiss with him before burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“No, no,” he smirked quietly, “I want you to watch.” Setting your leg on the chair’s armrest, his hand circled up to your jawline, turning your head towards the mirror with a smug grin.

It seemed that after several sessions together, he’d grown more confident in his actions. Now, there was less hesitation, and far less restraint in the way he moved. In the past, he paused to gauge your reactions, but now he was almost able to anticipate them. 

The hand that was teasing you shifted, eliciting a moan from you as he pressed two digits into your sex. Law made a few gentle scissor movements to adjust you to the stretch, before withdrawing his fingers and plunging them back in. 

“You’re doing so well,” His voice was dripping with something adjacent to condescension, “Look at how your body reacts when I touch you like this.”

Making deliberate “come here” motions with his fingers, a jolt of pleasure shot through your body. Back arching, your ass grinded against his clothed erection, which you felt hardening with each passing moment.

With shaky breaths, you replied, “Yeah? And what about you, Captain?” You shifted on his lap. He didn’t give the satisfaction of a verbal response, but his jaw clenched in the mirror just enough to be noticed. You watched the “A” and “T” inked below his knuckles disappear in and out of your warmth as he wordlessly increased his speed.

Finding that perfect sensitive spot he mapped out over the course of several late nights together, he massaged it in a way that made your eyes roll back. Feeling that familiar pressure building inside you, you opened your mouth to gasp his name, before he caught it with his own. He groaned lowly, letting your tongue sweep into his mouth and memorize his taste. Claiming every moan that slipped past your lips, he maintained the same consistent pace as your climax came. He silently relished in the way you clenched around his fingers. Your legs shook despite Law’s efforts to keep them grounded, and he rode you through the waves of pleasure that bloomed throughout your body.

As the high finally subsided, his hands slowed and withdrew from your heat, making you miss the fullness already. He made a show of licking his fingers clean, which made the coil in you begin to wind again. You stood with shaky legs before turning around to face him and lowering yourself onto your knees, licking your lips in anticipation.

“Wait.” Your hands hovered over his cock, which strained beneath the cloth of his undergarments.

“Would it be possible for me to fully test my knowledge tonight?”

“...You’re ready to go all the way?” “So long as you are.” The corners of his lips pulled up into his signature smirk.

Your hands trailed up, fingers gently curling around his wrist as you whispered “I’m sure.”

Without another word, he slid an arm around your waist. A familiar glint entered his eyes as he lifted two tattooed fingers between you.

“Shambles.”

The air warped and your stomach lurched, making you feel paradoxically weightless and heavy. The floor beneath you vanished, replaced by warmth as you stumbled onto something soft. Head spinning, you instinctively clutched his arms until the sensation subsided.

You finally glanced up, taking in whatever was illuminated in the otherwise dim room. Much like his study, papers and books were scattered about, some placed neatly with purpose, and some strewn and face-up like an afterthought. Kikoku rested on a wall mount across from the bed you found yourself on, just within arm’s reach. Several volumes of Sora, Warrior of the Sea were neatly lined at the top of a bookshelf.

“You look a little thrown off,” his voice interrupted your stunned state, “I do sleep in here, you know.” “Thanks, detective,” you replied dryly, “I’ve just never seen your quarters before. This feels strangely personal.” “I think that what we’re doing is a little more than personal.” Giving him a deadpan look before laughing softly, you shook your head, “Anyways. You wanted to do this in your room?”

His gaze flicked around the room before landing back on yours. “Yeah. If we’re doing this,” his voice was steady, “I want to do it the right way.” 

For a moment, neither of you moved. The steady whir of the submarine’s inner workings filled the room. After a moment, you inched forward, gently nudging him backwards while sliding your fingers along the waistband of his boxers. His lips parted out a quiet inhale as his back made impact with the plush pillows lining his headboard. 

“Tell me if you ever want me to stop, okay?” You gave him a reassuring look. He nodded quickly before liting his hips to help you take off his final layer of clothing. His erection stood, grazing his abdomen.

The mattress dipped as you shuffled yourself forward, your dripping pussy hovering over his pelvis. Tentatively, you wrapped your fingers around his length, tracing the tip around your puffy folds to collect your slick. Aligning him with your entrance, you finally sank down, wincing slightly at the stretch and fullness. His hips twitched and a faint hum reverberated in his chest as he finally bottomed out in you.

“I’m gonna move now.” You whispered. Planting your palms on his broad chest for support, your fingers traced his chest tattoo as you lifted and lowered your hips on him. Law groaned softly at the friction. His hands, which were initially clutching the sheets beneath him, moved up to cup the globes of your ass, helping you ease yourself up and down.

“That’s it,” His eyes were blown wide, “Just–like that.”

Continuing the steady rise-and-fall and grind of your hips, you slumped forward onto him, panting against his skin. He kissed you, shakily whispering rare words of praise into your ear. His hips bucked as your body lifted from him, chasing your warmth. You whimpered as his feet planted against the mattress, giving him more traction to gently thrust upwards. 

Law noticed the shake in your legs, the gradual weakness that was building in your movements. Without hesitation, he grasped your waist, holding you steady, before guiding you into his initial position against the bed. The pillows cradled your shoulders with his residual warmth.

“Wait-” You faltered, “Are you sure?” “You were growing fatigued,” His voice had an uncharacteristic softness to it, “Is this more comfortable?”

“...Yes.” “Good.” He traced his tip along your entrance, “Let me take over.” Fully sliding himself back in, he exhaled sharply. You wrapped your legs around his torso as he leaned over you, slowly thrusting his hips once again. The rhythmic sound of skin meeting skin filled the small room, only interrupted by his shallow breaths. As he moved, a white ring of precum and your own arousal formed around the base of his length, glistening in the dim light. Law leaned over you, his eyes dark with focus, his movements measured and deliberate as he chased your warmth. His cock hit a particularly reactive point along your walls, pulling a quiet sound from you.

“That's the spot?” His voice was rough as he began to piston his hips to reach it with expert precision. His tattooed hands anchored to your hips as he picked up his pace. Law’s eyes were fixed on you, watching your body arch off the mattress every time he bottomed out, the friction sending sparks through your nerves. His hand slid across your body, thumb finding your clit, and he pressed circles into the sensitive nub. Law didn’t look away, he watched your face contort with pleasure in a way that felt clinical, though the flush on his cheeks and his own soft noises showed what laid beneath his composure.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you found a sense of grounding. Your nails scratched along his trapezius, making the man shudder.

“Ah, Law!” You gasped,your back arching off the mattress as tension coiled tight in your core.

He didn’t falter, instead continuing to drive deeper into you, “Yes, yes, let it go,” he groaned.

Your orgasm finally broke, making you tremble beneath him. Your walls fluttered and clenched around him perfectly, forcing a broken inhale from his throat.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna come…” His voice was strained and almost needy.

His own release followed almost immediately, his abdomen flexing and cock twitching as he buried himself deep within you, flooding you as he rode through his own climax. Hips slowing, he rested his forehead to yours as he fought to regain his breath. Law didn’t withdraw, the warmth of his release still clung to your walls.

The silence that followed was thick with the sound of punctuated breaths. Law pulled back to press a lingering kiss to your temple, his thumb brushing away the sweat-stricken strands of hair that stuck to your face. The usual sharpness of his gaze softened to something tender.

When he finally spoke again, his tone had returned to its usual calm, though a lingering warmth remained. His grip tightened just enough to let you know he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

“Stay like this for a moment.”

You pulled him flush against your body, feeling the lingering tension in his muscles fade gradually as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. His heart still hammered a little too fast against your chest, and he carefully pulled himself out. A mixture of your and his release trailed out of your entrance and your thighs quivered at the sudden lack of fullness.

“Law?” You whispered, gently lifting his head, “Are you okay? I know that was…a lot.”

He didn’t try to feign collectedness. His eyes snapped to yours, pupils dilated and a little hazy. He let out a shaky exhale, fingers curling into the pillow beside your head.

“I’m fine, I just didn’t think I’d feel like… that.” He finally admitted after a beat of silence, voice dropping to a raw, vulnerable register you’ve never heard before.

The past several minutes came back to him in fragments. The way you looked at him when you came, the way you held him so tightly, the sounds and sensations you pulled from each other without entirely meaning to. 

It was unfamiliar. It was terrifying. It was perfect.

And he did not know how to handle the crumbling walls he kept around himself, leaving only the man underneath. His thumb traced your lip, pressing a warm, lingering kiss that tasted of salt and something unmistakably him. His knee came up between your thighs, easing them apart as though he couldn’t help himself. The hand resting on your jaw trembled lightly–not from hesitation, but from reverence. He was completely undone.

“But I want to feel you like that again,” He confessed, “I’m not ready to let it go yet.”

. . .

Nami loosely folded her arms. “...Yeah.” She said finally. 

“Yeah?”

“That doesn’t sound like ‘just a guy from lab.’”

Your mouth opened, then closed again. “I was just describing him, I don’t know what you’re on.”

“Sure.” 

…

A week later, the lab didn’t feel any different. There was the same fluorescent hum, the same instructions from the TA, the same chemical fumes that made your nose sting. The same lab partner waiting when you arrived.

He still nitpicked your work station.

“I can’t even read this,” or, “You forgot to label this,” and the occasional, “Leave this beaker here.”

But now, he let you keep going, then quietly made adjustments after.

After getting his notebook signed off by the TA, he’d turn to you. “Heading out?”

You’d glance back, gloved hands busy rinsing glassware. “...No.”

That was all it took. He placed his bag on the bench and idly flipped through the pages of his notebook, eyes not moving at all.

The same easy walk to the apartments followed your labs, past the convenience store, up to the streetlight at the large intersection. You’d part there like clockwork, you turning right and him continuing straight forward. 

As the weeks continued, it started to stretch. His pace matched yours now, and the intersection came a little later each time. One day, he didn’t turn at all. You noticed it first, after a few minutes of conversation.

“You’re going the wrong way,” you corrected.

Law glanced behind himself briefly. 

“...Right.” He promptly turned around, lifting his hand in a quick goodbye, before starting back towards the direction of his place without explanation.

You were guilty of it too. Lost in a chat about weekend plans or course selection, you found yourself minutes ahead of the turn you needed to make more times than you’d like to admit. Every time, Law never corrected you–you always realized the misdirection yourself. He just kept listening, talking, and firing back at your jokes like there was nowhere either of you needed to be.

After a particularly exhausting lab period, the conversation kept going like it always did. Again, you didn’t notice the turn. Not because you missed it, it was as it vanished. The sidewalk seemed to continue longer than usual and the only thing you were able to focus on was the resonance in his voice.

“That convenience store food will kill you someday, you know that, right?” He gestured at the two packs of ramen and special edition RedBull clutched in your arms.

“Aw, you worried about me?” You beamed, only to receive an unamused stare in response. “That sounds like a future problem, anyways.”

“You’d never survive living alone.”

You scoffed, “I do live alone.”

“No. Nami’s the one keeping you alive and socialized.”

“Okay, well I’d like to think otherwise. I’m the one who had to carry her drunk ass home while she ranted to me about her lesbian situationship.”

“So… the bare minimum?”

“That’s–fuck, I guess…” You slumped your shoulders defeatedly. A few more steps carried you forward before either of you spoke again. The path was quieter than the main stretch campus. You frowned slightly, adjusting the grip of the food in your arms.

“...Huh.” Your gaze drifted up properly now, distraction-free. This wasn’t the way back. This wasn’t even close. Your head snapped to the side towards Law, who was fishing a lanyard out of his pocket.

“Law?” He didn’t answer immediately. You whipped your head around to see how far you walked, realizing that you somehow skipped the turn, two blocks, and a large section of campus without noticing, finally making it to a large complex. Scanning a small black fob, the door made a quiet beep, and Law opened it, finally glancing back at you.

“Oh… yeah.” He paused at the door, back pressing it open. “This is my building.” 

You let out a sharp breath, “Oh god–okay, I’m gonna go. I didn’t… Realize how far we walked.”

“It’s late,” Law said, “You’re walking back alone.”

You paused mid-step. "Yeah? I’ve done worse."

He did not look satisfied. A beat passed before you continued, “...It’s like, 10 minutes. I’ll be fine…”

Law shifted his weight, as if he had already moved onto a different issue. “We never exchanged numbers.”

You blinked. “Wait, yeah. That’s kind of insane.” 

“I guess it just never came up.”

You pulled out your phone, “Okay, then, give me your number.” 

He did so without hesitation, finally saying “Text me when you get back,” like it wasn’t a question. You sent him a quick empty message so he could save your contact information as well.

“Mhm, you too,” You joked, before taking a few paces backwards while waving at him. “I’ll see you…eventually.”

The corner of his mouth lifted “See you.”

You turned around quickly before he could catch the grin threatening to break across your face. He didn’t leave right away, you were able to tell. It made you stupidly aware of your stride and posture while fighting the urge to turn around. After a few moments of walking, you finally heard the building’s door fall shut behind you. Your phone buzzed almost immediately.

[I got home]

You smiled at the screen before you could stop yourself, thumbs hovering over the keyboard to type a sarcastic reply. 

[wait deadass?]

A typing indicator showed up, then disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Your pace slowed without you realizing.

[put the phone down and focus on walking]

You snorted quietly to yourself.

[you started it]

[and who texted first?]

…

You began messaging him for help on assignments more often than you probably needed to. At first, the conversations were strictly academic. His phone would light up at unreasonable hours of the night with a blurry photo of half-finished calculations in your lab notebook. Law was always awake anyway. A few minutes later, he’d reply with an itemized list of miscalculations, detailed explanations, and witty remarks that had no bite. You began looking forward to those replies.

[I know that you’re pulling sig figs out of your ass but how do you mess up this badly] [you're lucky I enjoy being right]

He sent a photo of his calculations anyway, notebook spread across a desk littered with old quizzes and evaporated condensation rings presumably from his energy drinks. Partially concealed by the sleeve of his hoodie, his hand rested at the corner of the image. You zoomed in on it without realizing.

[thanks LawGPT]

A minute would go by.

[...] [No.]

Text conversations gradually shifted from coursework to trivial matters. A complaint here, a friendly debate there. Small updates that were less updates and more ways of indirectly saying ‘I’m still here.’ Most often, this was an exchange of photos of your respective “struggle meals.” His was often a spread of used disposable pens, captioned “lunch.” Yours was a flimsy sandwich on the counter with nothing of substance between it. He’d react to the photo with a thumbs down emoji.

Nami noticed immediately.

“Screenager. You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“The smile-at-your-boyfriend-on-the-phone thing.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not my boyfriend.”

“Mhm. For sure.” She leaned over your shoulder, “So, do you two actually hang out, or are you still stuck as classmates?”

You shrugged, “I mean, we walk back from campus together sometimes.”

Nami’s nose scrunched in response and a grin bloomed on her face. “Aww,” she cooed, “You two are like shy little high schoolers. That’s adorable…and kind of sad.” Her smile fell.

“We text too.” You held up your cellphone.

“That barely counts. Have you even been to his place yet?”

“Unfortunately not.”

She raised an eyebrow like she’d just solved a puzzle.

“Unfortunately, you say?”

“Dammit. Okay, that’s not what I–”

“So that’s the problem.”

“What problem?” Your words barely slipped past her train of thought.

She seemed entirely too pleased with herself, “You like him enough that the weird classmate bubble isn’t good enough anymore. Someone’s getting greedy.”

You glared at her, “Okay- that’s rich coming from you. And that’s not what I said.”

A look of realization shot across her face, “Oh, god, you’re right. That’s not what you said.”

“It’s what you meant to say.”

You hated when she did that.

…

Later that evening, Nami sat in the living room and didn’t even look up from her phone when she said it.

“We’re just going over for a bit. It’s nothing huge, just you, me, Luffy, and a couple other friends. We’ll just be chilling with a few drinks.”

Like it was the most unremarkable plan ever. 

You had no exams upcoming, and it was a weekend. There wasn’t an excuse not to attend. “I’ll think about it.”

Almost on cue, your phone buzzed as you slouched on the sofa next to her.

[you going tonight?]

You stared at the notification for a second too long.

[idk yet, are you?] [nami said it’s low pressure]

[I have some stuff to do there, so yeah] [and nami says a lot of things]

You exhaled a small laugh through your nose at that, and before you could think properly, you were already typing.

[fair enough. I think I'll pull up anyways]

You didn’t even fully commit to the idea before sending the message. In the back of your mind, it wasn’t really about the plan anymore.

…

Faint but steady bass bled out into the otherwise quiet block, making you pity the neighbors. The light streaming from the windows was a little too bright and colorful. Then, you noticed the silhouettes moving behind them, far too many to match the “just a couple friends” description you were given. 

Nami really did say a lot of things.

“You’re quiet,” she looked over her shoulder. She waved to Sabo at the door, who gave you a friendly nod, while guiding (dragging) you inside.

“A couple other friends?”

“Well, in my defense, Luffy’s got a lot of them.” She smiled sheepishly at your flat expression. “This barely scratches the surface.”

She wasn’t even wrong. You sighed, drifting along the couch and into the kitchen, taking whatever drink Nami put in your hands before continuing past her to the edge of the room as she went to find her friends. The noise behind you blurred as you moved.

You pushed open the back door with practiced ease–more reflex than conscious thought–to find air, space, and quiet.

And if you were being honest with yourself, maybe your lab partner.

The back door clicked softly behind you, cutting off the worst of the party noise. For a second, you just stood there, letting your eyes adjust. Law was already there–of course he was.

Leaning against the far side of the house, another figure stood across from him. Neither of them registered if you were there at first.

“--yeah, I was hoping to try one with you at the last party,” the other voice said, tone light and amused, “but you dipped right after I gave them to you upstairs. I looked away for like, two seconds!”

“I left. I wasn’t planning on staying there, anyways.” Law’s gaze lifted, finally catching you beneath the porch light. His shoulders tensed, but his eyes softened, not looking away.

The other person followed Law’s stare. His posture was loose, and he had a dark shirt left unbuttoned. Freckles scattered across his cheeks and arms, warm beneath the porch light, and his hair was wavy and mussed.

He cracked a crooked smile before glancing between you and Law.

“You two know each other?”

“Unfortunately,” Law answered before you could speak.

You scoffed. “That’s interesting. I was gonna say the same thing.”

The man tilted his head slightly. “Huh.”

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he said lightly, “I just expected someone who had a history with Law to look more miserable.”

“Ace.” Law’s head snapped towards him.

“What?” He lifted both hands innocently. “I’m just making observations.” His attention shifted back to you, warm and immediate. “I’m Ace, by the way. Luffy’s brother.”

“No, you’re being annoying,” Law shot back.

You stifled a laugh at Law’s irritation before introducing yourself to the other man, and his expression brightened like he genuinely enjoyed the sound of your name.

“See what I have to deal with?” Ace pointed a thumb at him.

“Why are you acting like I forced you to come outside?”

“I’m not, you’re just being mean.” He leaned into you, “He likes me. He’s mean to people he likes.”

Law crossed his arms, observing Ace’s sudden proximity to you.

Ace gestured at him again. “And he’s not even denying it.”

“That proves nothing.”

“It proves enough.”

The exchange flowed so naturally that you stared for a second longer than intended. “You two know each other?” You echoed Ace's earlier question.

Law sighed regretfully. Ace didn’t give him the satisfaction of replying, quickly chiming in, “Oh, yeah. We go way back.”

“I guess that’s one way to put it.” Law rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s been my…plug…for the past few semesters.”

Ace gasped. “Plug? That’s all I am to you?” He broke the offended facade, quickly smiling and, throwing an arm up. “And here I thought we had something special.” 

“...Don’t.” Law shook his head, too exhausted to continue the back-and-forth.

You let out a quiet laugh. “So he just buys from you?”

“When he’s feeling social.”

“So, once in a blue moon?” You gave Law a teasing look. He straightened his mouth unamusedly.

Ace nodded in response, stretching lazily. “Pretty much. Anyway, as much as I enjoy hanging out with my best customer, I’m also here to drop some goods off for Luffy. He wanted to make a borg tonight.”

“I’m not your best customer.”

Ace pointed at him, “And you don’t get to decide that.”

Law sighed. Ace’s attention flicked back to you again, immediately softening. “You just got here?”

“Yeah,” you replied, “Nami–my roommate–said it was gonna be a small thing.”

He nodded in acknowledgement, as if he knew her antics all too well. “Rookie mistake, taking her word when it came to things like this.”

“Mhm, It’s more my fault, if anything.” Your eyes drifted to the door, “Well, I don’t wanna keep you here for too long, you’ve got stuff to do, right?”

“Yup.” He looked at your drink. “Dear god, who gave you that?”

“Nami.”

“Cruel woman.”

“Thank you!” you rotated the chemically sweet drink in your hands. “I said it tasted weird and she told me I was being dramatic.”

Law shrugged, “Completely optional, by the way.”

You turned toward him in betrayal. “Sorry?”

“You made the same face after every sip.”

“Because every sip somehow tasted worse.”

“Again. Completely optional.”

You rolled your eyes and hit the toe of your shoe to his with a smile. “Shut that mouth.”

He smirked and looked away to the side. Ace watched, not saying anything for the first time since you two began your interaction. 

“Ah.” He finally said softly. Law gave him a look without saying anything.

“I’m gonna go help Luffy with that borg, now. I’ll bring you guys some, unless him and Zoro try hogging it all.” Ace nudged your shoulder lightly as he passed, “Surely it’ll be better than that cheap stuff.”

Law’s eyes flicked briefly to where Ace’s arm made contact with yours, then away.

“It was nice meeting you,” You waved as he slipped into the house. Warmth, light, and noise spilled across the patio before he disappeared back inside. Quiet settled in again almost immediately.

Beside you, Law watched the closed door for a moment before exhaling through his nose and relaxing his body. “You don’t need to drink whatever he brings back, by the way.”

“You sound like you’re worried.”

“And you sound like someone who is bad at decisions.”

“You’re so kind to me.” You stood next to him against the wall, not minding the distance–or lack thereof.

“I try.” He smiled slightly.

You let the silence sit for a moment after his words, the noise from inside the house swelling and fading. You didn’t lean into him in an obvious way, just close enough that there wasn’t any space left where you stood and where he did. The space around the two of you was vast, but not fully utilized. 

You glanced at him sideways, then down at your drink like it had suddenly become more interesting than it actually was. “Are you gonna get high tonight?”

He slowly blinked once.

“I already took some.”

“Wait, seriously?” Law gave a small shrug against the wall. “Mhm.” “That explains a lot, actually.” 

“Explains what?” “You’ve been staring into space for like, 10 seconds at a time. Especially when Ace was here.” He glanced briefly toward the patio door again before looking back at you. “I was just listening.”

“You looked more distracted than usual, I dunno.”

“You talk a lot.”

“And you don’t seem to hate it.”

His gaze didn’t wander this time as it settled on you. He didn’t respond for a while. A shout erupted from somewhere inside the house, followed immediately by loud, overlapping laughter. Neither of you looked toward it. 

Law reached out suddenly, plucking the drink from your hand before you could react.

“This tastes radioactive,” he said after putting his lips to the rim and taking the smallest sip imaginable.

“You stole my drink just to hate on it?” 

“You kept drinking it.” He placed the carton back in your hands, furrowing his brows.

“That doesn’t explain why you took it.”

“Scientific curiosity.”

“Bullshit.”

He shrugged. You snorted quietly as he handed it back. His fingers brushed yours, careless enough that it almost felt deliberate. Another roar of laughter reverberated inside again.

Looking to your side, you asked, “Do you think they made the borg yet?”

“Luffy?” Law sighed softly, “I bet he drank half already.”

“That’s–no, no, you’re right.”

“He’s got a stomach of steel, I tell you. He’s one of those people who eats instant noodles dry and drinks the sauce packet like dessert.” 

You winced slightly.

“...Don’t tell me.”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I do that sometimes too.”

His eyes narrowed. “And why am I not even surprised?”

“Okay, look, sometimes I get too lazy to cook after lab.”

“We get out of the same lab section,” he replied flatly. “And I still eat things according to package instructions.”

“Yeah, well.” You folded your arms loosely. “You also get blasted beforehand.”

He paused, before scoffing quietly, “...Tch.”

A beat passed before you spoke again, “...How’d you even get into it? Weed, I mean.”

Law’s eyes flicked to you briefly. “Everyone has their thing. It helps me shut things off.”

You hummed softly at that, letting it sit instead of pushing it further. Law breathed out and scanned the yard, like he was finally remembering the rest of the world was still there. A loud crash ripped through the house, followed immediately by someone yelling at full volume.

“Who the fuck put Dr. Pepper and sour candy in the borg?!”

“I dunno, I just dumped whatever Ace put in the fridge!”

“WHY WOULD YOU TRUST HIS RECIPE?!”

Casting a concerned look at the door, then back at Law, you opened your mouth to speak. “You staying?” He looked at you for a second longer than necessary. “Are you?”

“...Yeah. I don’t think it’s safe to go in there, anyways.”

“Then I’m staying.”

Chapter 3 Coming Soon!

...

A/N: fun fact, the initial reason i started writing this fic was because i remembered someone saying that ace looks like a drug dealer and law looks like his loyal customer.

i had a hard time writing this chapter due to time constraints (more midterms) and writers block, hope it ended up alright though! i'll probably make more revisions when my exams are over. also yes my friends and i have made a borg with dr pepper and sour candy. its been marinating on my top shelf since december bc nobody liked it HAHAHAHAH.

...

He never spoke about the subject with any passion, never volunteered answers unless directly asked, but he always worked with certainty, exceeding everyone else. In the first few weeks, you and Law barely spoke beyond the bare minimum required to get work done. Even then, that wasn’t much, as he would do most of it himself.

“Aluminum alloy capsule.” He’d outstretch a gloved hand without even looking at you.

You’d pass the capsule. “Right, you’re welcome.” You paused. “Are you always this friendly in the morning?”

That finally got him to glance over. “What?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. For someone who always acts so tired of people, you make powering through this lab look pretty easy.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“I’m not sure.”

And that was about as deep as your first conversations got. Short exchanges between measurements, dry banter beneath the fume hood. You learned after some time that he wasn’t exactly unfriendly; he was just difficult to read. He would answer when spoken to, but rarely made any opening. 

Eventually, you noticed he’d gotten used to your presence. He’d slide his much neater data tables to you to copy from, or drop a pair of gloves your size on the table before you asked for them.

“Not that one.” He caught your wrist lightly before you could pour the chemical. 

You froze. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. We’re not trying to make the precipitate yet.” He paused for a moment, “Let me do this. I stopped trusting you around chemicals a few weeks ago.”

“Ouch.”

“You somehow turned our analyte red the last time we were doing titrations. Can you blame me?” He didn’t let go of your wrist immediately. He noticed where your gaze settled, fingers loosening a second later as he stepped back towards the bench. 

“Just... read the labels properly before you grab stuff.”

“Okay, mom.” You scoffed.

“I regret helping you.” There was a light twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Your exchanges began to trail outside of the lab. You noticed that he’d begun to pack his belongings more slowly while you talked, without really noticing you were hanging behind yourself. Eventually, one of you would end up holding the door for the other without discussing it, the banter continuing as you stepped into the hallway. Outside, he walked a step ahead of you without actually leaving you behind. The class would stop being the point of the conversation, topics shifting without either of you acknowledging it. 

“You’re slower today,” you remarked after catching up to him.

He glanced at you and replied, “Because you’re talking more.”

As the two of you continued the walk, he turned into the convenience store–the only place on campus open at that hour–and you followed unconsciously, picking out your respective snacks separately and ending up at the register at the same time. Back outside, the air felt cooler on your skin as the two of you walked to a large T-intersection on campus. He always adjusted his bag strap, gave a soft wave, then started walking forward. You went to your apartment in the other direction. That was the unspoken routine you developed with him.

Until one night, when he stepped out as you were finishing your thought, and broke the exchange cleanly for the first time. 

“I have somewhere to be, actually.”

You paused, then nodded. “Then, I’ll catch you next week”

He gave you the same soft wave before walking in the other direction, not looking back when he left.

…

Nami had already been half-dressed when you got back to your apartment, talking about Luffy’s place like you were absolutely going.

Dressed in the standard PPE–sneakers, your college sweatshirt, a pair of wrinkled jeans–you studied the lineup of Grey Goose, yuzu flavored soju, and pink lemonade on the counter before quirking an eyebrow.

“Alright, slow down. What’s going on at Luffy’s place? Why are you dressed like you’re ready to ruin someone’s life? And why’s all our alcohol posted up on the counter?”

She grinned, “We're going to Luffy’s party tonight, I heard Vivi was gonna be there…” she gestured to her outfit, “And I refuse to pregame alone.”

You narrowed your eyes, “And who is we?”

“You and me, honey. Go change, I’ll pour you a shot.” She opened the cabinet and picked up a glass without waiting for you to respond. 

You placed a hand on your head exasperatedly and began to walk back to your room. “Look, Nami, I love you, but I just got back from a lab and I’m dead tired. I’ll go with you next time.”

“Okay, but when else are we gonna be able to do this? The semester’s almost over, and I haven’t gone out with you once!”

You froze and turned around, staring at her blankly. “It’s Luffy. Doesn’t he have a party like, every other night? And when he doesn’t, he’s planning the next one.” 

She shrugged, glancing to the side almost defeatedly. “Okay, granted…” She perked up again, “But I’m talking about you. You’re always busy, and I think you could use the break.” She smiled sweetly, fingers inching towards the bottle of vodka.

She wasn’t wrong. You haven’t had much time outside of class to spend time with friends, much less go to parties, since the semester started.

“You’re on thin ice.” You finally sighed.

“Is that a yes?”

“...One hour. Go pour the shot.”

…

You initially had some back-and-forth with your roommate about the amount she gave you. She called it a “Nami Shot,” and you called it “way too much.” You forgave her as soon as you stepped into the biting air, the buzz in your system serving as a perfect distraction.

After walking a few blocks, you finally reached the house: 10 Sunny Lane. Some people stood idly outside, and a man with blond wavy hair leaned at the door. You opened your wallet, ready to pay the entry fee, before Nami took your hand away.

“No need. I’ll handle it.” She turned back to you and gave a reassuring grin. “I’ve known Luffy for a while, he told me I can enter for free.”

Approaching the door, she gave the man a friendly wave. “Hey, stranger.”

He looked up and smiled easily. “Look who finally decided to show up. I was starting to think you got lost.”

Nami placed a hand against her chest, feigning hurt. “Oh please, I’m not Zoro.”

Laughing softly, he shook his head before flicking his eyes to you. “Is this your plus one?”

“Mhm.” She gestured toward you. You introduced yourself, and he gave you a warm smile in return.

He stepped aside to let you both in, “Go ahead. Luffy’s probably somewhere inside causing property damage.”

“It’s good to know that nothing’s changed,” she chuckled, waving him goodbye and taking your hand by the index and middle fingers to guide you in. “...And that was Luffy’s big brother, Sabo.”

You glanced back towards the door. Unlike Luffy’s loud recklessness that you were somewhat familiar with, Sabo seemed composed, laid-back, and rather charming. It was hard to picture them being raised in the same household.

Several people were sprawled out across the couch, engaging in sluggish chatter. Plastic cups stacked in a nearby bin and spilled out the sides. 2000’s EDM blared through a speaker in a nearby corner, and you walked through the house with Nami as she searched for familiar faces, finally making it to the kitchen, which was somehow louder than the living room.

Every inch of counter space was occupied by open chip bags, unattended bottles, and dispensers filled with suspicious beverages. People squeezed shoulder-to-shoulder around the island, shouting over one another, and Nami moved through it all like it was second nature, tugging the hem of your sleeve occasionally so you wouldn’t get lost. 

“God, usually they’d be playing better music by now,” she shouted over the bass, opening a cooler to find some drinks. “And who the hell actually enjoys Cutwater?” She pushed a lime margarita can to the side.

Placing a cherry limeade Beatbox in your hand, she finally stood. “Take this. I wouldn’t put too much faith into the jungle–”

She stopped mid sentence.

You followed her gaze across the kitchen, finding a girl with long blue hair standing near the counter with a hand curled around her drink, laughing with a small group of people.

“Oh my god,” Nami whispered before straightening her hair, “It’s Vivi.”

Before you could respond, Vivi glanced over and lit up when she spotted your roommate.

“Nami!” She said a quick goodbye to her friends and made her way over towards the two of you. 

“Hi,” Nami said coolly, as if she wasn’t short circuiting moments prior, “Didn’t know you were coming.” 

“Luffy pestered me until I finally caved.” Vivi’s eyes shifted to you. “Oh, hey. You must be…”

“This is my roommate,” Nami said before quickly turning back to Vivi, who smiled and offered you her hand.

“I’ve heard a bit about you, actually.”

You shot Nami a look. “Oh?”

She groaned, “Okay, don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not making it weird,” Vivi chuckled, “She and Luffy talk about you a lot.”

“I do not! And Luffy talks about everyone the same.” Nami dragged her hands down her face exhaustedly, making you stifle a laugh.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I’m Vivi.”

You gave yourself a proper introduction and she repeated your name with an easy smile before glancing back towards Nami.

“You look cute, by the way.”

You watched panic flick across Nami’s eyes before she made a quick recovery, running a hand through her hair, “Really?”

“Mhm.”

You looked between the two of them for a moment, noticing how Vivi seemed equally flustered behind the confident smile she tried to maintain. Around you, the kitchen grew warmer as more people crowded in. Someone yelled for aux, another person tripped on someone’s spilled drink.

Leaning in a little closer to Nami to be heard over the music, Vivi asked, “Do you wanna go somewhere quieter? I can barely hear you here.”

For a second, You would’ve thought Nami was about to combust. Her eyes darted to you. You knew that look. It was the same one she gave you when she was short on cash (she never really was), and when she tried to convince you to come to this party in the first place. She grabbed your wrist.

“Can you handle yourself for a little bit?”

You snorted. “I’ll survive.”

“I owe you so bad.” 

“You already do. This is negligible.” You gestured to Vivi, who was already a few paces away, “Go for it.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll catch you soon.” She flashed you a grin before straightening up and turning back around. And she was gone, slipping through the crowd towards Vivi, who tucked herself against Nami’s side.

The kitchen noise quickly turned from lively to overwhelming after your roommate left. The bass felt louder without anything to shout over it, voices grew sharper, the bodies bumping into your shoulder a little too chaotic. The air felt too warm and too sticky. The alcohol you barely started on turned unpleasantly in your stomach. You glanced towards the hallway, then the back door, making the decision to step out before the noise becomes too much.

Outside, the air was quieter in a way that was almost disorienting after the bustling inside. The party was still audible, but it was muffled pleasantly like an afterthought. You barely got a second to adjust before you noticed a strangely familiar silhouette leaning against the side of the house.

You slowed without meaning to. You told yourself it could be anyone–It should be anyone. Someone smoking, someone waiting for a friend, someone like you who was trying to escape the noise.

And maybe it was. The shape shifted under the patio’s lamp, the shadows of moths flitting across the dim light it casted. The figure didn’t look up immediately.

“I wasn’t sure how long you’d last inside.” Law finally said, as if he’d been thinking about it for some time. 

“I didn’t take you for the type to attend parties.”

“I’m not attending it,” He replied, “I’m just tolerating it.”

You raised an eyebrow, “And for what?”

He went silent for a while. “Nothing important.”

“...Right.”

Bringing a tattooed hand to his lips, he took a steady inhale, before puffing out a plume of pale vapor. His fingers grazed over the cart’s button. Not anticipating going back inside, you made yourself comfortable crouched on the ground next to him, drink still sitting relatively untouched in your hand.

“You smoke?”

“What gave it away?” He ran his eyes over you.

“Nothing in particular.”

Your gaze lingered on the smoke between you for a moment longer than necessary. Law noticed, as always. 

“You look miserable,” he said.

You glanced down at the sweating carton in your hand before taking a swig. “This drink sucks.”

“Then why are you still carrying it?”

“Because I can’t enjoy this party sober.” Your thumb toyed with the bottlecap.

Law glanced toward the house. “Did you get dragged here by someone?”

You nodded. “My roommate. She wanted to go out together for the first time in…forever. But right now, she’s busy trying to win over this girl she likes.”

Shrugging,you added, “And it’s probably working.”

“The blue haired one?”

You blinked. “You saw us?”

“It’s kind of hard not to.” His response came quickly. 

It felt strange seeing him here. Not because he looked out of place, if anything, the dim light under the awning and tired posture suited him better than the fluorescent laboratory buzz. You unconsciously took a gulp of the drink, its bitter and artificial flavor painting your tastebuds. A displeased sound left your mouth without realizing.

“You don’t have to finish it, you know.” His voice came quieter this time. The pen adjusted between his fingers again, small and repetitive like he just needed something to do with his hands more than anything else. It slowed halfway through, like he’d forgotten what he was doing.

Before you could answer, the back door slammed open, laughter spilling out. You both looked towards it at the same time. When it closed again, the quiet felt much sharper.

You finally huffed, “Is that you being nice or you being tired of hearing me complain?”

“Maybe it’s both.” That got you to glance at him, eyes unexpectedly meeting his. 

You took another sip anyway. It was warm from how long it spent sitting in your hands, but you didn’t adjust your grip. Neither of you moved for a while after that. Law stayed against the wall, the pen resting loosely between his fingers, its light blinking occasionally. 

He stayed where he was for a second longer, then let himself sink down into a crouch, as if standing had stopped being necessary.

“You always sit like that?” He broke the silence.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re gonna fall asleep.” He paused, “You’re like this in chem lab, too.”

You shifted your weight slightly. “I’m just saving energy.”

“And I’m the one who always seems tired?” A quiet exhale left him, one that was barely a laugh.

You rolled your eyes, “You’re worse in the lab”

His sleeve brushed against yours. It didn’t move away. “How am I worse?”

“No offense. You just look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

“That’s because I usually would be.”

You nodded, “fair enough.”

A moment passed. 

“But you’re still there.” You turned your head towards him.

“As are you.”

That landed heavier than either of you seemed willing to admit. Law didn’t look back at you right away. When he finally did, it wasn’t immediate eye contact. It was almost as if his stare drifted to yours on accident and he was unsure whether to stay or look away.

That should’ve ended it, and the exchange should’ve dissolved back into the muffled noise inside the house. But the conversation didn’t settle. Law’s pen stopped clicking absentmindedly entirely at some point before he shoved it into his pocket. You weren’t sure when the drink in your hand started to taste flat, nor when it grew lighter and easier to hold.

At some point, the angle of your body shifted without you noticing. The ground didn’t feel cold as you fully sat down against the wall, resting your free hand in your lap. Law was still close, but his presence became something you weren’t consciously aware of. You didn’t notice when you stopped looking at the time, your promise to stay for one hour long forgotten.

Law leaned back against the wall beside you. Instead of creating space, though, his shoulder rested loosely against yours. You could feel his warmth through the fabric of your shirt. Crickets chirped beneath the low pulse of music that permeated the walls. His head tipped back against the siding, eyes half lidded as his warm breath puffed and disappeared into the cool night air.

Despite the faint crease between his brows when he was thinking and the way exhaustion was woven into his features, he didn’t look like he wanted to leave.

“Are you still just tolerating this party?” 

His expression was unreadable. “It got less unbearable.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Is that so?” Before he could respond, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out, the bright screen casting a cool glow on your features. 

Debt Collector

You sighed before answering. “Hey, what’s up?”

“You disappeared!” Nami said immediately, words slurred beneath the noise in the background. “Where you at?”

“I’m outside right now.” You furrowed your brows and tried to force back a smile, “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not THAT drunk,” she defended, followed by muffled laughter that almost definitely belonged to Vivi. 

“Right…” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Okay, make sure you’ve got your stuff and stay where you are, I’ll find you.”

“Wait, I’m not ready to go home yet!” Her voice stretched in the silence of the backyard.

You closed your eyes briefly, “Yeah, I’ll see you soon.” Your thumb made contact with the red hang up button.

Law let out a quiet breath beside you that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh. Glancing towards him, you spoke, “I have to–” “Yeah,” he interrupted, “I figured.”

Pushing yourself to your feet, your legs were stiff and you stumbled forward slightly. Law’s arms twitched, hands freezing in place as you found your footing again. Maybe that Beatbox did more to you than you anticipated. The drink was abandoned beside the wall. Law stood a second after you did, hands slipping into the pockets of his hoodie.

You looked at him. “You gonna stay?” “Probably not for long.”

You nodded in response. Neither of you reached for the door immediately. Up close, you could still feel traces of his warmth lingering. Law glanced toward the house at the sound of another round of shouting coming from inside before looking back at you. 

Fnally placing a hand on the handle, you tightened your grip. “See you in lab?”

“Yeah,” Law replied quietly. “See you there.”

Chapter 2

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A/N:

The non-manga panel art in the banner is mine btw!! my other blog is @phu0nglan :)

SOO i do not know much at all about what other college majors do 😭 i'm a stem major, so reader ended up doing stem coursework with Law because it’s what i could write about best without it feeling unnatural. thankfully the whole medical/premed route works with his character. I'm very very sorry if this wasn’t what some of you were expecting!!

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I'm gonna be drinking some weed juice in a few days so i can continue the next chapter too LMAOAO we'll see how that goes..