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Trafalgar D. Water Law ♱

ᛝトラファルガー・Dディー・ワーテル・ロー ♱ mlw ♱ one piece ♱ early 2000s ♱ collage au ♱ Law x miss popular female userᛝ

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Law is 24, Bepo is his dog as well is Onigiri (if you don't know Onigiri is Laws non canon emotional support dog from One Piece Academy)

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Miss popular who is the new transfer student had became top of the class where Law usually stand.

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✦ by @ PrettyLittleVampire. ̊⊹. ࣪🦇🍷. .♱. ࣪

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The first rumor about you spread before anyone even learned your last name.

It was the early 2000s an era of snapping flip phones, traded burned CDs, and backpacks weighed down by an endless array of plastic keychains. The college campus hummed with the specific energy of the time: the mechanical click of locker doors, the tinny leak of MP3 players, and endless debates over MTV reality shows. The fall semester had barely begun, yet you had already become the campus enigma.

''Did you hear she's from out of state?''

''I heard she skipped two grades.''

''My roommate says she's gorgeous.''

''I saw her talking to one of the Professor's apparently she answered a question even the seniors couldn't touch.''

Everyone had an opinion. Everyone except Trafalgar Law.

Or so he told himself. Law didn't do gossip; he did results. He was the quiet, reserved prodigy who built his reputation on blood, sweat, and enough caffeine to concern the campus baristas. He wasn't naturally gifted he simply refused to lose. He had claimed the top spot in every lecture hall since freshman orientation. Biochemistry, Anatomy, Organic Chemistry the grade sheets always bore his ID at the summit. No one had ever challenged him.

Until Monday morning.

the Professor adjusted his glasses, the projector casting a harsh glow across the lecture hall. "As expected, some of you need to remember this is college, not high school."

Groans rippled through the room. Law didn't bother looking up; he already knew his score. Then, the screen flickered to life with the Top Five.

1. Y/N L/N 100%

2. Trafalgar Law 99%

Silence fell like a guillotine. Law stared at the screen, blinking once, twice. His jaw tightened with a subtle, dangerous precision. He had lost by one point.

Two weeks later, the second exam arrived. A 'tie at 98%', but the professor noted your paper required fewer corrections. You remained first. Law dropped to second.

Organic Chemistry: You.

Microbiology: You.

Statistics: You.

It wasn't just that you beat him; it was the infuriating ease of it. While Law sacrificed sleep and social dignity to the library gods, you seemed to float through campus as if academia were merely a pleasant afternoon stroll. You were everywhere laughing at the student union, helping freshmen, eating lunch with the soccer team one day and the drama club the next. You remembered birthdays, names, and faces. You attended every football game and charity dance, yet somehow, your grades remained untouchable.

One morning in Organic Chemistry, Law watched you walk in carrying an iced vanilla latte, chatting animatedly while balancing three textbooks under one arm. When someone asked if you'd studied for the quiz, you blinked with genuine surprise. "Oh. There was a quiz today?"

You still scored a perfect hundred. Law nearly snapped his pencil in half.

"You've been glaring at Y/N for three weeks," Penguin whispered, checking his silver digital watch. "You look like you're trying to perform surgery with your eyes."

"I don't glare," Law muttered, though his gaze remained fixed on you. He wasn't glaring; he was observing. He noticed how you doodled flowers in your margins while solving complex equations, how you answered difficult questions while absentmindedly braiding your hair, and how you could explain a biochemical pathway without breaking your stride.

The breaking point came at the library. Law arrived at seven in the morning to find his usual table occupied by you.

"Oh! You're Law, right?" You smiled brightly, offering a warm, confident hand. "I'm Y/N, I saved you the other chair since you always sit here."

"I don't mind studying together, do you?" you asked.

Law did mind. He preferred silence and predictability over someone who hummed while highlighting notes in five different colors. Yet, he said, "...Fine."

Studying with you proved to be the worst decision of his academic career. You weren't pretending; the concepts simply clicked for you with frightening speed. Whenever he hit a wall, you'd lean over, point once, and say, "You're overthinking it, you skipped this assumption." And you would be right.

After another flawless exam, Law finally cornered you in the empty lecture hall. "We need to talk. What exactly is your study schedule?"

You blinked, genuinely considering it. "I don't really have one. I just read the chapters whenever."

"Whenever?" Law's voice dropped to a dangerously calm register. "No flashcards? No color coded binders? No weekly planner?"

"Should I?" you asked with a sheepish smile.

"You're impossible."

You didn't take offense. Instead, you laughed a sound that was warm, bright, and utterly genuine. Law turned on his heel before his composure shattered completely, but your cheerful voice followed him down the hall, "See you tomorrow, Law!"

He didn't look back, but he didn't refuse the invitation either. For the first time in his life, Trafalgar Law wasn't just chasing a grade he was chasing a ghost who made excellence look like breathing.

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