Redraw

emergency food

yeah

When your Character...

Gets into: A Fight ⚜ ...Another Fight ⚜ ...Yet Another Fight

Hates Someone ⚜ Kisses Someone ⚜ Falls in Love

Calls Someone they Love ⚜ Dies / Cheats Death ⚜ Drowns

is...

A Child ⚜ Interacting with a Baby/Child ⚜ A Genius ⚜ A Lawyer

Beautiful ⚜ Dangerous ⚜ Drunk ⚜ Injured ⚜ Shy

needs...

A Magical Item ⚜ An Aphrodisiac ⚜ A Fictional Poison

To be Killed Off ⚜ To Become Likable ⚜ To Clean a Wound

To Find the Right Word, but Can't ⚜ To Say No ⚜ A Drink

loves...

Astronomy ⚜ Baking ⚜ Cooking ⚜ Cocktails ⚜ Food ⚜ Oils

Dancing ⚜ Fashion ⚜ Gems ⚜ Mythology ⚜ Numbers

Roses ⚜ Sweets ⚜ To Fight ⚜ Wine ⚜ Wine-Tasting ⚜ Yoga

has/experiences...

Allergies ⚜ Amnesia ⚜ Bereavement ⚜ Bites & Stings ⚜ Bruises

Caffeine ⚜ CO Poisoning ⚜ Color Blindness ⚜ Food Poisoning

Injuries ⚜ Jet Lag ⚜ Mutism ⚜ Pain ⚜ Poisoning

More Pain & Violence ⚜ Viruses ⚜ Wounds

[these are just quick references. more research may be needed to write your story...]

i didn't watch house but

Sick Day

Summary: You're sick but you don't want to disturb your busy captain and the crew.

Song: Coming Down by The Weeknd

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

The salt spray stung your face as you clung to the railing of the submarine, Polar Tang. The familiar rocking of the vessel usually soothed you, but today, it churned your stomach with a vengeance. Each swell sent a wave of nausea crashing over you, and the lump in your throat threatened to betray the secret you’d been desperately trying to keep.

“Another beautiful day at sea, eh, Y/N?” Shachi called out, his ever-present grin plastered on his face. He approached, a length of rope slung over his shoulder, and threw an arm around your shoulders.

His touch, normally comforting, felt like a brand on your feverish skin.

“Gorgeous,” you managed, forcing a smile and leaning away slightly. “Just taking in the fresh air.”

Shachi, bless his oblivious heart, seemed to buy it. “That’s the spirit! Captain’s in the library, buried in some ancient medical text again. Probably trying to find a cure for boredom.” He chuckled. “Don’t think he’s slept in days. You should see the bags under his eyes.”

Your heart clenched. That was precisely the reason you were out here, battling the waves and the growing weakness in your limbs. Trafalgar Law, your…everything, was already overworked.

He dedicated his life to the well-being of his crew, pushing himself relentlessly. The last thing he needed was you adding to his burden with a simple cold.

“Maybe I will,” you said, your voice a little too high-pitched. “Catch up on some reading myself.” You detached yourself from Shachi’s grip and hurried below deck, hoping he didn’t notice the tremor in your hands.

The air inside the submarine was thick and humid, doing little to alleviate the chill that had settled deep in your bones. You bypassed the library – Law’s sanctuary – and stumbled toward your shared cabin.

Collapsing onto the bunk, you pulled the threadbare blanket over yourself, trying to ignore the throbbing in your head and the scratchiness in your throat.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

Bepo’s anxious voice cut through the fog in your brain. You peeked out from under the blanket to see the massive polar bear crouched in the doorway, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Fine, Bepo, fine,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket higher. “Just a little tired.”

Bepo wasn’t stupid. He knew you better than anyone, barring Law himself. He padded closer, his large paws silent on the metal floor.

“Your face is flushed,” he said, his voice laced with worry. “And you’re shivering. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just a little seasick,” you insisted, turning your face to the wall. “It’ll pass.”

Bepo hesitated, his ears twitching. “Maybe…maybe I should tell Captain.”

Panic flared in your chest. “No! Bepo, please don’t. He’s so busy. It’s nothing, I promise. Just let me rest.”

You knew you were being unreasonable, but desperation lent your voice a sharp edge. Bepo, always sensitive to your feelings, retreated slightly.

“Okay, Y/N,” he said softly. “But…but if you need anything, anything, you promise you’ll tell me?”

“I promise,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

Days blurred into a miserable cycle of stolen naps, forced smiles, and growing weakness. You avoided Law as much as possible, knowing he’d see through your charade in an instant.

You choked down your meals, forcing yourself to socialize with the crew, all the while battling a fever that threatened to consume you.

The hardest part was keeping your distance from Law. You craved his touch, his presence, his unwavering gaze. He was your anchor, your safe harbor in a turbulent world.

But you couldn't risk him seeing you like this, a pathetic, sniffling mess. You’d rather suffer in silence than burden him with your trivial illness.

One evening, as you were attempting to sneak a cup of herbal tea – Penguin’s well-intentioned remedy, despite your protests – Law’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N.”

You froze, your back to him. The sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, a different kind of shiver than the one that racked your body with fever.

“Captain,” you said, turning around slowly. You tried to appear nonchalant, leaning against the counter as if you weren’t desperately trying to keep from collapsing.

He stood in the doorway to the galley, his dark eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. He was even more tired than Shachi had described, the lines around his mouth etched deeper, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he stated, his voice flat.

You forced a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, Captain. I’ve just been…busy.”

He raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge. “Busy doing what, exactly? Trying to master the art of disappearing?”

You swallowed, your throat burning. “I…I just wanted to give you space. You’ve been working so hard.”

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “And you think hiding from me is helping?” He reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead. You flinched, but he didn’t pull away.

“You’re burning up,” he said, his voice laced with concern. “How long have you been sick?”

The fight drained out of you. There was no point in denying it any longer. He knew. He always knew.

“A few days,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

His grip on your forehead tightened slightly. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

You looked up at him, your eyes pleading. “I didn’t want to bother you. You have so much to worry about.”

He sighed, a sound of weary exasperation. “Y/N…" He took your hand in his, his thumb stroking the back of your palm. "You are never a bother. Ever. Do you understand?”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “But…”

“No buts,” he interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “Come with me.”

He led you back to your cabin, carefully helping you onto the bunk. He didn’t say anything as he peeled off your clammy clothes and wrapped you in a fresh blanket. He worked with a practiced efficiency, his movements precise and gentle.

He summoned Bepo, who scurried off to fetch a basin of cool water and some clean cloths. Law sat beside you, dipping the cloth in the water and gently dabbing your forehead.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked again, his voice softer this time.

Your voice was hoarse. “I was scared.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and something else, something that made your heart flutter despite the throbbing in your head.

“Scared of what?”

“That you’d be angry,” you whispered. “That I’d be a burden.”

He shook his head, his dark hair falling across his forehead. “You could never be a burden, Y/N. And I could never be angry at you for being sick.”

He continued to bathe your forehead in silence, his touch soothing and comforting. You closed your eyes, letting the cool water and his presence wash over you.

“From now on,” he said softly, after a long silence, “no more secrets. Not from me. Understand?”

You opened your eyes and looked at him, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

“I understand,” you whispered.

The next few days were a blur of fever dreams and Law’s unwavering care. He made you herbal teas, insisted on you resting, and even managed to coax a few bites of bland food past your protesting stomach.

The crew tiptoed around the cabin, whispering their well wishes and leaving small gifts – a rare orange, a hand-knitted scarf, a crudely drawn get-well card from Bepo.

Slowly, the fever began to break. The throbbing in your head subsided, and the nausea faded. You started to feel like yourself again, a little weak perhaps, but alive.

One evening, as you sat propped up in bed, reading a worn paperback, Law entered the cabin. He carried a tray with a steaming mug and a plate of crackers.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Much better, thank you," you replied, offering a tentative smile. "I'm almost back to normal."

He placed the tray on the small table beside your bed. "Good. I was starting to miss your sharp wit and irritating questions."

You chuckled, a genuine sound this time. "Irritating questions? You're just jealous of my superior intellect."

He smirked, a rare and precious sight. "Of course. That must be it." He leaned back against the wall, watching you as you sipped your tea. The silence that followed was comfortable, a familiar rhythm between you.

"Law," you began hesitantly, "I wanted to thank you. For everything."

He raised an eyebrow. "There's no need. I just did what anyone would have done."

You shook your head. "No, you went above and beyond. You could have left it to the others, but you didn't. You took care of me. And I... I really appreciate it."

He pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer. "Y/N," he said, his voice low and serious, "you're important to me."

Your heart leaped in your chest. "I –"

He cut you off, continuing before you could overthink and ruin the moment. "You're smart, resourceful, and you have this infuriating way of always knowing exactly what to say to piss me off, but also... to make me laugh. You bring a unique perspective to the crew. You challenge me."

He paused, his eyes searching yours. "And," he swallowed hard, "you're… kind of… essential to me."

You stared at him, speechless. Essential? Was he… could he possibly…

He seemed to realize what he had said, the implications of his words hitting him like a tidal wave. His cheeks flushed a faint pink, and he looked away, running a hand through his hair.

"I… I didn’t mean to say that," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"You didn't?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

He looked back at you, his gaze intense. "Well, I mean… I did. But… I didn't mean to say it like that. It just sort of… came out." He was a mess, a far cry from the stoic, collected captain you knew him to be.

You couldn't help but laugh, a nervous, shaky sound. "So, you're saying you didn't intend to accidentally confess your… whatever this is, to me, while I'm still recovering from a fever?"

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "This is a disaster."

You reached out and took his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. "Hey," you said softly, "it's okay. It's more than okay."

He looked up, his eyes filled with doubt and a glimmer of hope. "It is?"

You squeezed his hand. "Yes, Law. It is. Because… I feel the same way."

His eyes widened. "You… you do?"

You nodded, your heart soaring. "I do. I have for a long time."

A slow smile spread across his face, transforming his features. It was the most genuine, unguarded smile you had ever seen. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear.

"Then maybe," he whispered, "this accidental confession wasn't such a disaster after all."

He leaned in closer, and you closed your eyes, anticipation flooding your senses. His lips brushed against yours, a tentative, feather-light touch. It was a promise, a beginning.

The door to the cabin slid open with a bang, and Penguin's head popped in. "Captain! We've spotted–" He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in the scene. "Oh. Sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

Law pulled away, his cheeks flushing again. "Yes, Penguin. You are."

Penguin backed out of the cabin, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and amusement. "Right. Carry on, then. I'll just… tell the others to steer clear." He disappeared, leaving you and Law alone once more.

You both burst out laughing, the tension finally dissipating. The world outside your tiny cabin seemed to fade away, leaving only you and Law, the quiet hum of the Polar Tang, and the undeniable spark of something new, something real, igniting between you.

The fever might have been a curse, but it had inadvertently led to a cure for a different kind of ailment, one you had both been suffering from in silence for far too long.

And maybe, just maybe, accidental confessions were the best kind. . . .

law n bepo

RUN, RABBIT, RUN: Part 1

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Trafalgar Law x Reader Zombie Apocalypse AU

Part 1 of my @infixop gift for @namism!

CW: Zombies, graphic depictions of blood, death and violence. Named side characters (they not super relevant tho). No use of Y/N or gendered pronouns.

WC: 4185

Masterlist Next ->

(A/N at the bottom)

Around one and a half months after you finally left your apartment building and dived into your new life as a vagabond survivor at the end of the world, you meet Law. 

You are the one that finds him, alone and out of breath, a few streets away from the now empty city university. He’s got a large backpack, his clothes are layered and unsoiled, and he glares at you from the shadow of his ugly spotted hat, distrust clear in his eyes.

You don't say anything, but you also don't take your eyes off him. Despite the unnatural danger zombies pose, another human is always more dangerous. And he seems like a threat. You eye the sword he holds in his left hand, unsheathed and covered in gross pieces of rotting flesh. It’s like a katana, but longer than any you’ve seen. 

You raise your shovel. It's not much compared to an actual weapon, the dented metal spade is rough under the sun. You hope you look threatening. 

“Are you going to be a problem?” You shout across the street. A zombie tumbles by a light pole further down the road. Your eyes dart in that direction for a second, then turn back to the man before you. 

“No.” He replies. Simple. He looks down at his sword again, and frowns. A few of the fattier chunks slide off the glistening metal, landing with sad plops onto the hot asphalt. Above you, crows sit one by one on the power lines, their beady eyes watching, never blinking. 

You pull your own eyes away before the implications of the swirling feeling in your stomach actually say anything about your current state of being. 

“Well.” You say, unsure of how to continue. At that moment, your little ragtag group of survivors turns the corner. 

“”Hey! Find anything—” Johnny’s voice dies when he lays his eyes upon that tall stranger with the huge scary sword across the road. 

“I did find something.” You mumble.

For a few seconds, no one moves. The zombie down the road has disappeared down another street, and the crows are beginning to circle, clearly interested in the carrion the man is dropping all over the ground. He stares at you and the three others you met earlier that month. 

Then he sighs. 

Bewilderment grips you. That is not a normal reaction. Or maybe, considering everything, it should be a normal reaction now. 

“Like I said, I’m not going to be a problem.” He takes a step towards you. 

Johnny tenses beside you, and you raise your shovel higher. If the man wants to stab you, the sword will get you long before the shovel could get his head. So you’ll have to throw it for any chance of success. You ready yourself. 

Then the man tosses his sword to the side with a resounding clang. 

You’re not sure if it’s the shock that causes the shovel to slip from your fingers— but the sound is enough to make you jump. You bump into Johnny who in turn, stumbles over his feet and falls to the ground. Heat instantly shoots up your neck, making the tips of your ears feel hot. Great. To embarrass yourselves like this in front of an active threat. Just great. So you raise your leg, and aim your toes towards the middle of your shovel’s handle. Maybe passing it off like you meant to drop your shovel in the first place will encourage him to not think less of you. The darn thing skids across the concrete, coming to a stop a pathetically small distance away from you. 

He stares at you, then at your shovel, and exhales curtly from his nose. 

Despite surviving nine months into the end of the world, you are suddenly overcome with an incredible urge to die. There isn’t time to wallow in that feeling, however, because he steps closer, crossing the road without an ounce of apprehension. 

“Law.” He holds out his hand. The word ‘DEATH’ is tattooed across his knuckles, and what you assume is some circular cult symbol on the back of his hand. 

You respond with your own name, crossing your arms over your chest. Who knows where his hands have been. 

Law stares at you with that same blank yet pointed gaze. The hairs on your neck rise. Huh. Unsure of what to do with this new feeling, you stare back at him, narrowing your eyes into a glare. You can only hope you’re making him feel as unsettled as you are currently. 

“Uh. I’m Johnny.” Johnny says from beside you. He’s standing again, dusting himself off from the fall. 

The other two in your group, Yousaku and Michelle, introduce themselves too. There’s apprehension in their voices. No one tries to shake Law’s hand. 

~~~~

He sticks with the four of you for two nights and three days before the incident. He didn’t have any resources on him despite his big bag, so you compiled together all you had left, and redistributed some to him. The twenty cans of food and bottles of water between the five of you fill you with an anxiety you are now unfortunately familiar with, along with the looming realization that you’ll have to go further into the city to survive. Going further means the danger of both zombies and humans. The apocalypse has put many people in danger. And when people’s lives are on the line, people tend to do crazy things. 

“We’re running out of resources.” Michelle says on the dusk of the second night Law spends with all four of you. After an uneventful day of scavenging, you’re all back at the little blocked up building you’ve been calling home for the last few weeks. It was Yousaku who discovered it a few days after you joined the three of them, located in a quiet part of town that didn't seem to have many other humans or zombies. But that also means the resources there are close to zero. 

You’re all on the roof, huddling around a burning fire. Law sits to your right and Johnny to your left. Michelle is across the fire from you, and you can barely see her illuminated face through the dancing flames. The sun is setting over the horizon. A chill is setting in, seeping in from under you. Michelle’s words do nothing to soothe the shiver that races down your spine. You pull your threadbare blanket closer. 

“I think we should try going across the bridge again.” She continues. 

“I don’t know.” You say. “Aren’t the bridges hosting swarms even in the daytime?” Your old apartment was near the east bridge out of downtown and you barely survived the swarm around the bridge on your first, fateful day out in the wild. Sometimes, the images of grey, rotting skin, and the stink of decomposition in the midday sun still appear behind your eyelids when you close your eyes. 

There is silence. The crackle of fire fills the silence. In the distance, you hear sounds of shuffles and low moans. You push the image of dripping flesh from your mind.

Then Johnny speaks. “If we cross the bridge, there would be more resources, right? There’s a lower concentration of people outside of downtown. And all the big chain stores were in the suburbs.”

“That part is true.” Law says. 

You all turn to look at him. Law hasn’t said much since he joined the four of you two days ago, only mutters affirmation or rejection when handed things or asked to do things. You all wait for him to elaborate. As usual, he does not.

You frown at him. “How do you know that?”

“Logic.” Law says. 

You roll your eyes. “Okay, Mr. Know-It-All, is logic a good reason for us to risk our lives?”

“But there are resources on the other side, right?” Youkasu asks. There’s a hopeful tint to his voice, something you haven’t heard in a long while. 

Law nods. 

“You’re really sure.” Yousaku asks again. 

“Yes.” Law says.  

He’s too relaxed for this. You think. He’s far too relaxed to be guiding you to your deaths.

You look at his fingers again. The dark letters on his skin do not seem to dim in the fading light. 

“Are we forgetting it takes a day to get to the bridge? It’ll be evening by the time we get there!” You say, voice suddenly getting very loud. Because in the evening, right before the sun sets fully over the horizon, the hivemind comes out to eat. Like swarms of ants, the zombies will congregate. Piles of decay shuffling together like a tsunami of flesh to hunt. There were scientists on the news before everything really went to shit, talking about some kind of fungus that liked warm bodies. It made you shudder to think about it back then, and it still makes you shudder to think about it now.

Your worries do not seem to deter anyone else. 

“I mean, the zombies are slow, right?” Yousaku says. 

“We gotta be thankful for the small things.” You mutter sarcastically under your breath. Law makes a choking sound beside you. You glare at him from the corner of your eye, but he doesn’t bother to acknowledge you.

“If there’s a bunch we can fight them off.” Michelle adds. “There can’t be that many at the bridge.”

You make a face at that. You open your mouth, trying to insist that ‘There are that many zombies’, but Johnny interrupts before you can say more.

“Let’s vote.” He says. “Raise your hand if you think we should go to the bridge tomorrow.”

You dig your face into your knees, and slot your arms under your legs. There’s the sound of shuffling— then quiet again.

“Seems like the majority.” Johnny says after a moment. He turns to you then, a reassuring smile on his face. “This might be our best chance at surviving. We’ll be fine. All we need to do is leave before the sun goes down.”

~~~~

That is the first mistake. 

Your group sets out early the next day. It’s sunny outside, but you can’t help but feel the looming threat of a bad decision settling on your shoulders. Your rations reduce just a little more, and everyone else seems more eager to get going. So you pack your bags and no one but you keeps track of the sun in the sky, hyper aware of its position as it slowly crawls westward.

The second mistake is trusting Law’s confidence. 

His big sword really makes him seem unstoppable. It shines in the light as he carries it, resting against his shoulder. His quiet, sure attitude, makes everyone assume the best— which is the third mistake. Even his sword can’t stop the rush of one thousand zombies all coming at you at the same time, their physique enhanced by the soft pink sky of the setting sun.

You carry on. The sun is far too close to the bottom of the skyscrapers when you finally see the bridge. It gleams white in the light, a marvel of architecture. Just as you thought, the surface is covered with the heads of zombies. They sway and shuffle, clothes dropping from their bodies as they stumble aimlessly. A few turn towards you, jaws unhinging at the detection of raw flesh. Anxiety floods you. Your grip loosens and tightens around your shovel handle. 

“Holy shit.” You hear someone say. 

The anxiety clouding your mind turns into a sick satisfaction for just a few fleeting seconds. If you die, at least you die knowing you’re right.

“I think we should get going.” You say instead. You turn to leave. But that’s when you realize. The five of you are surrounded. 

Your immediate instinct is to pick the direction you came from and start hitting. The zombies are many but at least they’re slow. You’re able to take them down at a steady pace— a smash— a step forwards— and the next one comes. Their decomposing fingers reach at you from all directions, teeth clamouring. Dead eyes stare past you, clumps of hair falling out of scalps at the softest contact. It always ends up being an endurance battle. Will you last, or will the zombies outlast you? Your shovel is sturdy under your hands, but your arms are already trembling from exertion. You can barely hear the shouts and screams of the others over your own heartbeat. It’s loud, pounding in your ears as you try to fight the vertigo threatening to overtake you. You’ve never liked bodies or blood. And zombies— with their human shapes and festering flesh— test your ability to stomach the mind-bending nausea. 

For a second you look away. And you see him. Or, you see Law’s hat. Its white colour easily catches the light of the setting sun. He’s going in the complete opposite direction from Johnny, from the heart of the swarm. It’s where the line of zombies is the thinnest. Where the number of heads seems to be the fewest. His sword is raised, and he’s attacking the creatures with a sharp precision you’ve never seen from any of the other survivors you’ve met. He’s slicing through the decomposing bodies like they’re nothing but thin sheets of paper, dropping whole arms, fingers and heads with dull thuds in his wake. You turn back one more time. The voices of the people you spent the last month of hell with travel over the low groans of the zombies. 

They are screaming. Flesh torn from bone. Eaten alive. You can try to save them.

But you are a coward.

You turn and sprint down the path of limbs. For a second you’re Dorothy, bounding down the yellow brick road, where the destination is not a granting of wishes but instead, an embodiment of your desperation for survival. A zombie lunges for you. You swing your shovel and its head flies off. Two more replace it, grabbing at you from the encroaching darkness. Law’s white hat catches the dying light, and you swing your shovel again, and use the spade to shove the swaying bodies to the ground. You jump over another fallen zombie, still twitching, and hurry towards the last place you saw Law. You can barely feel your limbs, only the reverberation of your feet making contact with the hard asphalt as you dodge and hit and shove, the little path Law made growing smaller and smaller with each passing moment. 

You need to survive. 

The zombies come one after another, but the closer you get to Law the easier it is to evade them. One grabs on to your jacket. You break its skull in half. Another catches on to your ankle. It takes a good hit and a hard stomp for that one to let go. Its decomposing fingers all but fall apart as you rip yourself away, heart pounding. The ever-growing shape of Law’s hat is your only saving grace. Suddenly, another lunges out at you from the darkness. You can see its face. Its graying skin, foggy eyes, and lips peeled back from rotting gums. 

Bile burns up your throat as you swing. 

You hit the zombie at its temple. Its head rolls off its neck, the last bits of connecting tissue glazing your shirt and arms. At the same moment the spade of your shovel flies off the handle. It soars through the air like a frisbee before landing somewhere in the middle of the hoard. You’re left with a handle, still clutched tightly in your hands.

Shit!

You run. The zombie that lunged at you was mostly alone, it seems, as the path in front of you is now somewhat clear. Your heart drops, however, when you realize you can no longer see Law. You spend a frantic, precious second frozen in place, looking for him, before you snap yourself out of that panic. You need to run.

Just follow the limbs, you think helplessly. So you do. 

Heart pounding, lungs heaving, you dive through the scattered crowd, ignoring the crunch of bones beneath your feet and the soft splattering of decomposing flesh. The world ahead of you is blurring, your head is spinning, and you don’t realize until it’s too late that you are going to crash into something. 

Bam! The impact halts you completely, and you stumble back, grip almost loosening on the shovel handle. It takes a second, but you realize it's Law.

You look up at him. And it's then you realize his eyes are coloured gold. You quickly avert your gaze, just in time to see another one of those creatures barrelling towards him. You look up at Law again, but he hasn’t noticed it. He’s pushing past you— focusing on something behind you— but not moving fast enough to dodge the mouth gaping at his neck. You move on instinct. The remainder of the handle piece slams into its jaw. It shatters upon impact but the zombie doesn’t fall apart like the others. It’s on the ground now, withering like a worm in the sun, disgusting and pathetic— but no longer a threat. You kick its head for good measure, noticing how its skin and jaw mostly stay together. It must be a fresh corpse, you think grimly.

Turning, you scan the area around you. There are much fewer of them now, two blocks away from the bridge. Law is a short distance behind you. You see his eyes glance down at the carnage by your feet, and then at you. There’s a blooming thread of understanding— and you start running. The zombies Law slashed through have regrouped, and the little gaps to escape are closing slowly in front of you. You charge towards the small space between the two zombies blocking the middle of the road, and brush past them without much issue. You hear Law’s footsteps behind you. It doesn’t take long for him to catch up and overtake your pace. All your desperation allows you to do is keep up.

The air leaves your lungs far too quickly, legs cramping with every lost breath. When Law finally stops, far enough from the river that the sound of rushing water no longer reaches your ears, your vision flashes black. You throw yourself against the brick wall of the building the two of you stopped at. Breathing has never been harder— you heave, gasping for air. You glance up at Law. 

He’s barely huffing. 

Damn him and his long ass legs. You press your palms against the wall, the texture rough and grounding. It takes a few more deep, wheezing breaths before you can move normally again. Law is still there, watching you silently. The sky is now a somber blue. The events that just passed are still fresh, and you’re sure your mind hasn’t properly registered the horror. There are no other survivors. That is the way things are now. You open your mouth, unsure what to say. The silence is too much, too suffocating—

Then, he starts walking away. 

Your stomach drops in panic and you push off the wall. “Where are you going?”

Law shrugs. He’s holding his sword in his left hand and sheath in his right. He doesn’t like sheathing the weapon before cleaning it. “Somewhere to spend the night. I suggest you do the same.”

“You’re not going to survive by yourself.” 

Law stops. 

You’re not sure what drives you to say that. Maybe it’s the thought of braving these streets by yourself, the fear of slaying those creatures with your own two hands, with no one to back you up and no one to know if you die doing so. You’re both rational adults. Or at least, you hope so. But you try anyway. “Isn’t that why you joined us? You almost got bitten back there. You’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for me.” 

He’s silent for a moment then. His eyes do not leave your face. 

The sound of your heart fills your ears again. You lift your chin, and stare right back. A cold breeze blows by, and you fight to hide the shiver that runs through your body.

Then, Law sighs. The sound is heavy. “If you want to come, I won’t stop you.” 

He turns around again, and this time, you follow him without a word. 

~~~~

Life only really fell apart after the power went out. You still remember it happening— staring out your apartment window at the still illuminated city, eyeing the few wandering zombies far below. Then suddenly, everything is black and everything is silent. The low hum of your fridge, your neighbour’s fan, the distant sound of someone’s booming sound system— all gone.

You still remember the creeping horror, the realization that from now on, the night is no longer yours either. Or maybe it never was to begin with. Either way, the fire in front of you is nowhere close to starting and the darkness is growing ever closer. Law is sitting across from you, judgement clear in his eyes. 

“Do you want help with that?” He asks. 

“From you?” You say finally. When Law doesn’t say anything back, you return to your smoldering pile of grass and cardboard scraps. 

Closing your eyes, you try to catch the direction of the breeze. It’s barely there, tenderly brushing against your cheeks. You adjust your body, and you try again. Nothing catches. You shuffle a little more to your left. The flint and steel brush against each other with a satisfying ting and finally, finally, the cardboard lights up. 

“Holy shit!” You jump back, startled by the sudden heat. The cardboard burns hot and fast. You turn around, frantically placing the assortment of coals and pieces of wood you have into the fire, careful not to smother it. The cardboard, thankfully, burns just long enough for the smaller pieces of coal to catch. It's now a waiting game. Slowly, the wood stacked on top of the coals begins to burn as well. A small circle of light is created, keeping away the darkness for a little longer.

“I’ll take the first watch.” You say to Law.

“Sure.” He says, attention going right back to the spread in front of him. His sword is laid out on the ground, and he’s surrounded with scraps of bloodstained fabric. It’s all vague shapes and shades of grey at this point, but the glint of the sword tells you Law has polished it enough to be shiny again. You knew swordkeeping was hard work— but doing it at the end of the world seems a little excessive. 

You lay down on your side of the fire. The thin cardboard below you is a nice alternative to the cold cement rooftop. Vague shapes of your old bedroom dance behind your eyes. You push the thought away. That life, the safe, comfortable one you knew for so long, is now another reality. There is no point in ruminating on what you no longer have. A sound of shuffling, loud enough to catch your ears, carries over from the other side of the roof. It’s probably Law. You can barely see him, slightly illuminated by the small fire. His movements are like ink drops spreading across a canvas, staining and convulsing in a mass of darkness. The fire pricks at the rightmost edge of your vision, and the sky above is endless.

With no lights in the streets, the night is finally a proper darkness to see things. Stars, planets, the reaching edges of the Milky Way spiralling far out across the horizon, surrounded by endless darkness. It’s beautiful, almost hopeful sometimes— and tonight is the first time you’ve gotten the chance to just gaze. So you lay there, comforted by the cold cardboard beneath you, the heat of the fire beside you, and the sight of the slowly spinning night above.

A quiet settles over your rooftop. It is occasionally broken with soft cracks of burning embers. At some point, you think you hear the soft breathing of the person on the other side of the roof. You, however, keep staring upwards.

Your mind can’t help but drift to Law. You don't try to stop it. You think about his overall clean state when you first found him, his sword, and the lackluster attitude he has towards the zombies, like they’re nothing to worry about. You finally think about the bridge. The screams of people you were beginning to think of as friends. He was ready to abandon Johnny, Yousaku, and Michelle the second things went wrong. How can you be sure he won’t abandon you too? He’s only still here because you stopped him.

You stare up at the sky then at the dying fire beside you. You pull your jacket and the flimsy blanket closer to your chin. The chill of the night is still kept away enough by the fire, but it creeps ever closer, nipping at your toes and fingers. 

Despite the ache behind your eyes, you do not wake Law.

A/N: Do it for Miku 🤩🤩🤩 (the thing i repeated while wiritng this during peak midterm season (oml, curve pls save me :'((( )) also thanks to my betas for reading this, all the thanks my good bros

some lore for anyone interested:

the outbreak started because a scientist was studying fungi (specifically fungi that can survive warm bodies) and shot it with some gamma rays or something and made it so it likes humans (animals can't be infected because i like animals :D ). Bro then accidentally got spores on himself and carried it home, aka, out into the the world. Living humans weren't susceptible at first, it only infected dead bodies for a while but then genetic mutation happened and BOOM, live humans were getting it too through open wounds! Then the world exploded :(

the general world timeline is something like: ~12 months ago the first outbreak occured in a hospital morgue, ~9 months ago the apocalypse got bad enough that the military started intervening and the closest power grid blew up or something (this is the point were most people mark as the start of the end), ~ 5 months ago the military got destroyed (cause the mutation also occured around this time), ~ 2 months ago the power reserves got drained, and ~1.5 months ago Reader heads out into the wild

(is this accurate to reality? no lol i did not have time to do that much research)

I HATE WRITING SO MUCH WHY CANT MY THOUGHTS AUTOMATICALLY BE WRITTEN ONTO THE NOTES APP

Sleepy Stalls |Master-list|

Trafalgar Law x !GN!Reader, Fluff, Crack, soft!law, unironically sweet, head-cannons, reader is a mechanic here, overprotective!law because secretly he cares too much, stubborn reader, comfort.

The Heart-Pirate Captain with an s/o who struggles with sleep...

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

1st of all, this is insomniac central.

Law cannonly has nightmares, so you could definitely infer he struggles with sleep himself. Most likely kept up by whatever's gearing through his mind.

So he'd be incredibly understanding with you.

Law's the type to put you before himself. So no matter how tired he was he'd always check up on you. Whether you're working in the engine room, eating lunch, or relaxing in your room--he’d quietly seek you out.

Your captain was keen, and he’d been observant of your habits.

The surgeon wouldn't be overly concerned--but he would worry. You're his precious crew-mate and lover, so he's over-protective. Not in an annoying way, but selflessly.

Since Law is a doctor he would have a lot of sleep-aid. From herbal properties to medication—he'd give you anything you needed or asked for. Even if he ends up a hypocrite in the process.

He would act nonchalant and impassive about it, but deep down it’d wear on him.

Law would 100% have chill out time with you in his office if you were tired, or just in general.

In each-other’s presence, the company would drive away any restlessness. Including Law and yourself. So be prepared to snooze off in each other's arms or space.

If you'd cuddled him or sat close, he'd be out like a light. His head would be the first to fall against your shoulder or thigh with a bonk.

You wouldn't expect him to be the clingy type, but if you're there—he'd prefer you much closer.

He would find comfort in your pulse when you’re sleep. (As it wasn't often you were)

Law would tenderly take in your snoozing form, gently crouching beside you to take your pulse. His own worries would ease when your pulse thrummed softly against the pads of his fingers.

When you’re asleep, he’d be the type to quietly watch over you, gently brushing your hair or stick close. His touch would be uncharacteristically soft, and so would his words.

“Just relax, I got you…”

“You look peaceful when you sleep…I wish you did it more often.”

When having bad nights, he wouldn’t push, but he would be there. He’d silently offer to let you rant, or seek comfort. But he would never push. Law just wanted you to know he’d always be there for you. (No matter the burden you believed yourself to be)

Law isn't officially 'cold' or 'uncaring' when comforting people, he's just an awkward dude who isn't the best at it... but he is an amazing listener.

However, if you'd ever been stubborn about your sleep, he'd meet your pettiness with his own. He'd scold and lecture, but it was never meant harmfully.

He was just frustrated he couldn’t help you faster.

Law would never make you feel bad about it, because it's not always your fault. There could be a thousand things wrong, but he wasn't gonna’ let himself be one of them.

He wouldn't bullshit you, and it might come off rather blunt, but he just wanted to get straight to the point. He didn't want you getting hurt, not on his watch, or just in general.

“____-ya, I don't need my star mechanic running on nothing. Nor' do I need you passing out on my sub. If you’re tired, you are tired. You don’t need to push yourself. Not for me or the crew.”

“Look, if something happens in the engine room or navigation—I need you. I need you well so you can perform at your best. I'm not losing you, and I’m not letting you pass out and hurt yourself because of your recklessness.”

“So just take it easy, alright? You're on rest for the day, and that's final, don't make me babysit you. I trust you enough that I don't have to.”

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Despite his harsh words, they were true. But being stubborn was your specialty, and you felt the need to prove yourself. So pushing yourself to clean the valves and filters was your next task—even though he didn’t give you any.

It’d been after a rough night, so you were irritable, and you’d been snappy. Even if you didn’t mean to be, it was just the way it was.

Without sleep, you were weaker and more emotional and you hated it. Your ego hurt, not only by his lecture, but at the fact you couldn’t function as easily as others. So that frustration, that deep welling hate fueled your resolve.

Though it didn’t last.

Law had found you snoozing off and covered with grime in the engine room, sleeping at an awkward angle. Your were cuddled against a pipe, using it as your pillow as your black-stained hands supported your head.

Your cheeks had been smeared with oil, and your messied suit had been covered with it. Tools and disposable bags had been near by, and the room was spotless. Shining against after a long month, he found himself frozen at the sight.

He’d slowly let out a breath, easing up as he kneeled beside you—gently shaking your shoulder. He wasn’t mad, only frustrated.

But that frustration let up as you didn’t stir, only slept exhausted. And that made his chest ache the most.

You didn’t need to prove yourself to him, you had already done that. The moment he saw you, he recognized your skills—and your personality took the cake. You already far surpassed his expectations and he could want nothing more, other than you.

He’d always been grateful, accepting you at whatever you came—your lowest—your highest, he loved you regardless.

Law just wished you wouldn’t push yourself to prove something you didn’t need to.

He would gently pick you up, looking around the room before cradling your face with his hand. He’d crack a soft unbelievable smile, before shaking his head and bringing you to his room.

Law would call you an idiot placing you on his bed, carefully taking off your shoes before tucking you in. He’d wipe a warm cloth across your face, cleaning away the harsh oils before it stained too much.

He’d watch you with tender eyes, brushing hair out of your face before letting you be. He’d rest at his desk, reading, but watching your from afar—waiting for you to stir.

He wouldn’t lecture you like he did before, but he might just reassure you that you didn’t have to do this. And he might just thank you for cleaning the engine room.

In his own Law way of course.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Your captain would always be adamant about your health. No matter your argument or fuss—you were one of his top priorities.

Not ever in a tasking way. But maybe in an awkward loving one.

No matter the difficulty of his or your own, he’d always be patient, and he’d encourage you to go at your own pace.

Because everyone was different, and he was perfectly okay with that.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

With Law’s silent assurance and presence, your atrocious schedule had been eased.

Though it’d still been noticeable. The bags under your eyes pointed you out, and your snoozing tendencies didn’t help. The crew found you asleep in various workspaces many times, and it hadn’t really been a concern.

And as long as they believed you were getting enough sleep, they wouldn’t bother you about it.

Everyone had gotten used to it, but it didn’t mean they let up in the teasing. Light-hearted remarks had been thrown, but you never paid them any mind. If anything your captain listened to them more than you did.

He didn’t participate in it, but he let everyone have their fun. Until Shachi’s rather dark humor had been thrown into play.

You’d been dozing off at the table at lunch, slowly eating but surely getting in the nutrients you needed. You’d been sitting by Ikkaku and Shachi while your captain sat across from you.

“You sure you don’t wanna go lay down ____?” Hakugan asked, handing you over a basket of croutons. “A little nap might help.”

“No, I’m fine.” you muttered, mixing some in with your salad. Your jaw rested in your palm, and you stirred your salad around before taking a bite.

The tables conversation flew over your head and you could only think of what you’d do next after lunch. Train? Sleep? Clean? Be bored and bug your captain? It’d probably end up in the last one, but nothing stopped you from changing it.

“Mm, if you say so,” Ikkaku butted, taking a bite of her sandwich. “You really shouldn’t push yourself, I don’t want to find you asleep on the examination table again.”

Shachi snorted beside you, and you heard laughs echo around.

“Right? Scared the shit of me, I thought you were going in for surgery.” Penguin chuckled.

Law cracked a smile, watching you shake your head. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh, it totally was,” Ikkaku teased, nudging your shoulder.

“It could’ve been worse,” Clione muttered, “finding you asleep on the control panel was not on my wish list.”

“Pff—yeah, right next to the throttle? Real smart kid,” Bart commented, plopping down another dish of food.

More laughs followed and you found yourself hiding your expression behind your sandwich, smiling quietly behind it. You took a big bite before Shachi started in.

“Oh, it was worse—remember? She fell asleep mid filter change and it totally blew up on her,” he laughed, gently knocking your head with his fist.

“Ew, don’t remind me.” you winced, making a face.

“Nah, you’re so stubborn about it I might have too.” he said, finishing up his sandwich.

“I’m starting to think someone needs to slip some sleep-aid into your drink.”

“Yeah—that’d get you some well earned rest,” Uni rolled his eyes, side-eyeing Law for a moment, seeing his expression darken.

He coughed in his fist, nudging Bepo.

“Uh, Captain?” The navigator sputtered, blinking idly at him.

Law didn’t respond, only deadpanning at Shachi who hadn’t yet realized his annoyance. It seemed he took the joke literally. Especially when he knew you didn’t like the symptoms of sleep-aid, it only irked him more.

“You go and do that and you’ll find a shit ton of laxatives in your coffee.” he said blandly, threateningly poking his fork.

The table quieted before Shachi coughed on his food, quickly swallowing it. He hit his chest, using you as a shield. Which you were mindlessly unaware of.

“Woah—haha, only joking Cap!" He paled, patting your back. "Right ____? All fun here, I'd never," he continued, nervously laughing.

"Mhmf, only jokes,” you muffled, with a mouthful of food.

Law paused, looking you over before rolling his eyes at your clueless expression. He layed off, but didn’t completely rest his glare. Law does not play around with you, not matter the joke or tease.

They're judging you