You Know You’re A Writer When…

A dose of care

Pairing: Law x reader

Summary: You have a habit of forgetting to take your thyroid pill in the mornings, much to Law’s frustration. As a doctor, he knows how important it is, and he makes it his personal mission to ensure you never miss a dose—whether you like it or not."

CW: none, I think

Word count: 400 words

A/N: inspired from my own experiences 💀I always forget to take my thyroid pill

The moment you stir awake in the dim light of the submarine’s cabin, you feel Law’s steady warmth beside you. His arms are wrapped around you, holding you close beneath the blankets. You sigh contentedly, nuzzling into his chest as his fingers gently trace circles on your back.

For a while, there is only the quiet rhythm of your breathing and the soft hum of the ship around you. He presses a sleepy kiss against your forehead, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "Mmm… stay like this a little longer," he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.

You smile, letting the warmth of his presence lull you into a peaceful haze. Minutes pass in comfortable silence before Law shifts slightly, his fingers idly skimming over your arm. Then, his movements still. His brows furrow as his eyes slowly open, and you can almost see the gears turning in his mind. He stiffens just slightly.

Then, in a low but firm voice, he asks, "Did you take it yet?"

You roll your eyes and snuggle deeper into his chest. "It’s too early for this," you mumble, attempting to evade the question.

His grip tightens. "That’s not an answer."

"I’ll take it later," you huff, trying to shift away, but he doesn’t let you go.

"That’s what you said last time." His tone is strict, his patience thinning. "And the time before that."

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "It’s just one pill. Missing one day won’t kill me."

"That’s not the point." His voice sharpens, and he pulls the blanket down slightly, forcing you to look at him. "I’ve told you before how important it is. You can’t just forget. Your body relies on it."

"I’m not a kid, Law!" you snap, irritation flaring in your chest. "I can handle myself."

His golden eyes darken with frustration, but there’s something else in them, something softer. Concern. "Then prove it," he challenges. "Take it now."

You cross your arms, stubbornly refusing to move. "I’ll do it in a bit."

"No, you’ll do it now." His voice leaves no room for argument. "Or I swear, I’ll get up and shove it in your mouth myself."

You glare at him, but he doesn’t waver. The stare-down lasts a few tense seconds before you groan dramatically. "Fine!" You grab the pill bottle from the bedside table with exaggerated annoyance and pop the pill into your mouth, swallowing it without water just to prove a point.

Law watches you the entire time, only relaxing when he’s sure you’ve taken it. "Good," he murmurs, pulling you back into his arms. "Now you can go back to being a brat under the covers."

You grumble but let yourself be held, secretly enjoying the warmth of his embrace. Even when he’s strict, even when he’s scolding you—he cares. And that makes all the difference.

thats THEIR arc thank you very much

Tell Me No Lies

law x fem!reader

you’re a psychologist who can spot any lie and that makes law keep his distance, afraid you’ll see how he truly feels. but when a mission forces you to pose as his lover, the lines between act and reality blur fast.

a/n: this was a request but since it's really long I summarized it

words count: 3.9k

tags: slow burn, mutual pining, undercover couple, spicy but not smut, fluff, tension, crewmates being chaotic

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

“You want me to do what?”

Your voice slices through the meeting room of the Polar Tang like a dagger, sharp, pointed, and just a little amused.

Penguin holds up his hands, grinning like he’s already imagined you and Law making out in a booth “Not my idea! Bepo came up with it.”

Bepo, ever innocent, blinks “It’s logical. Varrick lies constantly. You can tell when people lie. Captain’s the one meeting him. It’s simple.”

You stare “You want us to act like a couple.”

“Just for the night!” Shachi chimes in from where he’s stuffing chips in his mouth “The place is a casino-slash-brothel. No one goes in there looking like a business partner. You show up all cold and stiff, he’ll know something’s up.”

Law hasn’t said a word.

He sits at the head of the table, arms folded, expression blank. But you know that face. He’s thinking. Calculating. Fighting something.

Then, flatly “Fine.”

You blink “Fine?”

“You’ll have to stay close,” Law adds, eyes flicking to yours “I can’t talk in code around Varrick, and I doubt we’ll get a second chance if he feels like we’re onto him.”

“So, what, I sit on your lap and play with your hair while you ask about Navy routes?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Penguin snorts soda through his nose.

Law doesn’t miss a beat “If it gets us the truth.”

You swallow hard. Because that should not have sounded that smooth.

Later, in your room, you stand in front of the mirror, pulling on the final piece of your dress, a deep red number that hugs your waist and legs and dips dangerously low down your back. You smooth it down, checking the slit up your thigh, the way the silk shimmers under the ship lights.

“You don’t have to look like a goddess,” you mutter to your reflection “You just need to catch a liar.”

But damn it, the dress works. And the second you step into the hallway, you hear Shachi’s voice echo from down the corridor “Caaaptaaaain!”

You freeze.

“Don’t be mad when she looks hotter than you, bro!” Penguin adds, loud enough that it bounces off the steel walls.

“Stop yelling” Law says from somewhere out of sight. His voice is tense.

You round the corner and stop dead.

Oh no.

Law... Law is in a black suit, crisp and clean, no tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone. His hair’s slicked back just enough to make your throat go dry. Tattoos peek out at the edge of his collar. He’s leaning against the wall, looking at his den-den mushi, but when he looks up and sees you his fingers still. His eyes trail down, slow. Too slow.

You hear Shachi whisper “damn” under his breath and fist bump Penguin like they just won a bet.

Law clears his throat “You’re… ready.”

You tilt your head, smirking “You look nice too. Didn’t know you owned a suit.”

“It was a gift” he mutters.

You take a step forward “From who? Someone who wanted to see you flustered?”

His jaw ticks “I’m not flustered.”

You do notice the slight red creeping up the back of his neck. Just a little. Enough.

Before either of you can pretend to be normal, the rest of the crew crowds the hallway behind you.

Bepo holds up a little camera “Say cheese.”

“We’re not taking pictures” Law snaps.

“Oh come on,” Penguin grins “Look at you two!”

“You’re never letting this go, are you?” you ask, eyes narrowing.

“Nope.”

Shachi elbows Bepo “Ten bucks says they come back married.”

Bepo nods solemnly “I’ll take that bet.”

Law groans and starts walking past them, ignoring the chaos.

You trail after him, heels clicking on the metal. As you pass the guys, you whisper, “Try not to blow our cover.”

Penguin winks “Go get that intel... and maybe some action.”

You don’t answer but your cheeks are hotter than they should be.

And the second Law opens the hatch to the upper deck, the cold sea air hits you and so does the reality of the night ahead.

The casino is loud. Velvet-lined walls drown out the outside world, while gold lights glint off dice and crystal glasses. Somewhere near the back, a piano plays slow jazz. It’s all soft temptation and sharpened edges.

You walk in beside Law, his arm around your waist. His fingers rest against the small of your back like they belong there, not too tight, not too loose. Just… there.

You can feel the heat of his palm through the silk of your dress. You can feel everything.

Stay focused.

Varrick is waiting in a private corner booth, exactly where intel said he’d be. He’s slouched in the plush seat like he owns the place, surrounded by too many drinks and not enough class. Rings clink against his glass as he lifts it.

“Trafalgar Law!” he says, standing with a grin too wide to be real “Wasn’t expecting you to bring arm candy.”

Law’s arm tightens around you. Not protectively. Possessively.

“She’s more than that,” he says, calm as ever “But she doesn’t like to talk much.”

You smile politely at Varrick, then glance at Law from the corner of your eye.

Smart. That gives you the freedom to observe.

You slide into the booth beside Law, close, but with just enough space between you to keep your focus.

Varrick leans forward “So, you wanted info on that Navy ship?”

Law nods “I heard it was seen heading east out of Ivona Port last week.”

Varrick shrugs, swirling his drink lazily “Could be. Could be west. Hard to say.”

You place your hand lightly on Law’s thigh. Barely a touch. Just enough.

Lie.

Law’s eyes don’t move. His posture doesn’t change. But his fingers tap against the glass in front of him once, acknowledging you.

Varrick chuckles “You know, these Navy guys come and go. They don’t tell me everything.”

Your fingers slide up, brushing over the inside of Law’s wrist as you reach for your own drink.

Another lie.

Law hums “Then tell me what you do know.”

“I know they’re not looking for pirates right now,” Varrick says “Some big job further north. Something to do with weapons.”

Your nails gently press into the back of Law’s hand, slow and deliberate.

Lie.

You feel him tense slightly. Like he’s thinking.

“Do you want something in return for this info?” Law asks coolly.

Varrick grins “Only a little favor later. Nothing serious.”

Even now he's lying.

This time you run your fingers slowly down Law’s forearm, letting your touch linger like a lover’s caress. But it’s all code. All signal.

Law shifts beside you. To anyone watching, it just looks like he’s turning toward you, lips brushing close to your ear.

“You’re sure?” he murmurs.

You nod “Three lies so far.”

“Mm.”

Varrick raises a brow “You two are cute, y’know that? Real cozy. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re actually into each other.”

Law leans in, his lips grazing the edge of your cheek as he speaks “We are.”

Your heart skips.

You almost miss the way Varrick’s mouth twitches at that. A little wrinkle in the corner of his eyes. Something flickers. Jealousy?

“Lucky guy then...” Varrick mutters.

Law’s arm moves from your waist to your lower back, pulling you closer. Not fake this time. Not calculated. His hand is warm, firm, fingers curling possessively.

You’re practically in his lap now.

You keep your eyes on Varrick “So what’s the Navy doing near Blue Rock Island?”

He flinches.

Small. Quick. But you see it.

You drag your hand up Law’s chest like you’re playing with his shirt but your fingers dig in slightly at his collarbone.

That’s the truth. That’s the target.

Law tilts his head slightly, voice low and smooth “Blue Rock, huh?”

Varrick blinks, caught off guard.

You glance at Law just for a second and see it.

His eyes are calm. But his pulse at his neck is faster now. You shouldn’t be this close. He shouldn’t be looking at you like that. You’re supposed to be watching the informant, but now you’re catching the way Law’s lips part ever so slightly when you shift in his lap. The way his breath hitches.

He’s too good at hiding. You never have a baseline for him and suddenly, you realize you do now. You’ve been close enough tonight to read him. Feel him.

So when his ears turn red the moment Varrick leaves the table you finally know what his tell is.

“You’re enjoying this” Law mutters as Varrick disappears into the crowd.

You swirl the last sip of wine in your glass “Enjoying not getting stabbed in a double-cross? Sure.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You turn your head slowly toward him, lashes low, a smirk threatening at the corner of your mouth “No? Then clarify, Captain.”

His jaw clenches.

You lean in “Or are you upset I figured out your tell?”

Silence.

Got him.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look at you. Just sips from his glass like he’s trying not to set it down too hard. You watch his throat bob, slow and tight. He’s flustered. Controlled but clearly struggling to keep that control.

Which is dangerous and tempting.

You reach out, brush something “imaginary” from his collar, letting your fingers drag across the base of his throat. He stiffens just slightly, and you swear under that cool expression, his eyes darken.

“I’m not ready to leave” you say casually, turning away to scan the floor “We did the job. Got the truth. Maybe we deserve a little fun.”

Law doesn’t argue. That alone is suspicious.

So you both stay. You drink. You people-watch. You flirt, just enough to be part of the act. And he plays along, letting his hand rest low on your back, murmuring sarcastic commentary about the drunk nobles and sleazy gamblers, voice low and rough in your ear.

But then Varrick returns.

You’re seated now in a more open lounge, a couch near the roulette tables. Varrick walks up with a drink and a too-easy smile.

“Forgot one little detail,” he says, tone casual “Seems like the Navy isn’t after pirates right now because they’re meeting with one. Some kind of alliance. Dunno who.”

Lie.

You shift against Law and drag your fingers along his inner thigh, too slow to be innocent.

Varrick talks more, and you let your hands wander. One arm over Law’s shoulder, the other toying with the fabric of his jacket. A fingertip gliding along the inked edge of his collarbone. Every time Varrick lies, you punish Law with a new touch.

You want to see how much he can take.

When you trail your hand up to the side of his neck and run your thumb along his jaw, you feel it. That little twitch. A shiver. His hand slides up your waist and grips tight, like a warning.

You lean in, lips brushing his ear.

“He’s lying again.”

Your voice is barely above a breath.

“And you’re pushing it” Law growls, so low only you can hear.

But you just smile and press a kiss to his cheek, slow and lingering “Don’t lose your composure, Captain. Someone might think you’re affected.”

Varrick finally gets bored and excuses himself, clearly thinking he’s dropped enough bait.

The second he’s out of sight, Law stands.

“You come with me. Now.”

You blink “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t even look back. Just starts walking toward the upstairs hall of the casino. Like he already knows you’ll follow.

Which… you do.

Up the stairs, past the velvet curtain, through the dim corridor lined with private doors. He finds an empty suite with a key card left in the slot—probably reserved for VIPs or those with a winning streak.

He opens it.

You step inside, the door clicking shut behind you.

And then he pins you to the wall. Hands at your side, like blocking you. Eyes burning.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he says, voice rough “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

You pretend to think “Touching my captain in public? Flirting with a man who’s obviously holding back? Yeah. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

His gaze flickers from your lips to your eyes and back again. His breath is hot against your face.

“Tell me if you want to stop.”

You grab his lapel and pull him down.

“I’ll tell you if you lie.”

For a few long seconds, Law doesn’t move.

His fingers flex on your hips, like he’s debating whether to pull you in or push you away. His eyes are on yours, unreadable to anyone else but you can see it now. The cracks in that cold, calculated shell. The tension. The restraint.

You’ve spent months trying to get a baseline on him. To decode his behavior. Now? You are the baseline.

And he’s struggling.

“I should let you go” he mutters, voice low, more to himself than to you.

“But you won’t” you whisper back.

His eyes drop to your lips “No.”

He steps closer. Your back is fully against the wall now, your breath tangled with his. You tilt your chin up, almost daring him.

“What’s holding you back?” you ask.

His mouth twitches “You.”

A beat.

Then “You’re too good at reading people.”

You grin “So are you.”

His hand slips to the back of your thigh, just under the slit of your dress. Not high, but enough to make your pulse skip “You’ve been testing me all night.”

“Guilty.”

“You think it’s funny watching me lose control?”

“I think it’s hot.”

That does it.

He lets out a quiet, sharp breath, like he’s just given up fighting gravity, and leans in until your foreheads are pressed together. His hand stays on your thigh. His other lands on the wall beside your head.

You whisper, “You’re not usually like this.”

“No,” he says “You bring it out.”

You stay like that for a moment, so close, heat radiating between you, neither of you quite touching where it counts. The tension is unbearable in the best way. It’s not just attraction. It’s months of silence, near-misses, unsaid things finally rising to the surface.

Law is still Law, he's collected and composed, but now you know what it costs him. You feel the restraint humming under his skin like electricity.

You reach up and slide your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. He shivers.

“Stay” he says. It’s not a command. It’s almost… a request.

You nod, slow “I’m not going anywhere.”

He finally steps back, not far, just enough to breathe, and moves to the bed. Sits on the edge, running a hand over his face like he’s trying to reset.

You take the moment to look around. The room is warm-toned, elegant. One massive bed in the center. Silk sheets. Balcony window cracked open to let in the sound of crashing waves and soft jazz from below.

You sit beside him, gently bumping his shoulder “So. What now?”

Law doesn’t look at you “Now, we sleep.”

You raise an eyebrow “You’re going to act like none of that happened?”

“I didn’t say that” he replies, voice quiet.

He leans back, hands braced behind him, eyes finally meeting yours “I’m saying we don’t have to rush it.”

Your heart stutters.

He adds, almost awkwardly, “This isn’t just the mission. Not for me.”

You don’t tease him this time. Instead, you smile, warm and soft.

“Not for me either.”

He pulls off his jacket, tosses it over the chair. Starts unbuttoning his cuffs. You stand and go to the bathroom to remove your heels and freshen up, giving him space, and maybe yourself a moment to breathe.

When you come back, Law’s already under the covers, shirt slightly open, tattooed chest half-visible in the low light. He’s facing the wall.

But when you slip in beside him, he immediately turns over and pulls you in, an arm draped over your waist, forehead pressing into your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The room is quiet now.

The casino noise is a distant hum through the balcony window, soft music, muffled laughter, the whirl of spinning wheels and shuffled cards. But inside, it’s just the sound of two hearts beating faster than they should.

You’re lying on your side, Law behind you, one arm slung around your waist like it belongs there. His hand rests just beneath your ribs, warm and heavy. Not demanding. Just… steady.

The silence stretches. Not awkward, but charged. Comfortable, yet not quite safe.

Your voice cuts through it, soft and curious.

“If we’re just gonna sleep… then why here? Why not go back to the ship?”

You feel him pause behind you. Not tense but thoughtful.

He exhales through his nose “Because.”

“Because?”

His voice drops, rough like he hasn’t decided if he wants to answer honestly “Because if I took you back to the ship, I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

He shifts slowly and pulls you in tighter, chest pressed to your back now. His nose brushes your neck, and his breath sends a shiver down your spine.

You barely manage a whisper “This?”

He hums “Stay close. Let myself… feel something.”

You blink. That wasn’t what you expected.

He continues, quietly “On the ship, I’m your captain. In control. Always thinking. Always five steps ahead.”

You glance over your shoulder, catching the faintest edge of vulnerability in his eyes.

“And here?” you ask.

“Here,” he says, “I get to be a man lying next to someone who makes him forget all of that.”

You don’t answer for a moment.

Then, deliberately, you reach back and trail your fingers down his forearm, slow and gentle.

“Good,” you whisper “Because I like this version of you.”

You feel his smile against your skin.

He doesn’t say anything else. Just tucks his face into your neck like he’s finally allowing himself to breathe.

You shift slightly.

Not much. Just enough to test the space between you.

He doesn’t stop you.

So you turn.

You roll slowly to face him, your knees brushing his under the covers, your chest barely touching his. The low golden light from the hallway filters in through the crack under the door, just enough to catch the edge of his face, his jaw, his eyes, that small crease between his brows.

He’s watching you. Carefully. Quietly.

You speak, low and honest “You’re not the only one who forgets how to breathe around the other.”

His expression flickers. Just a second. But enough for you to see hope, doubt, desire. Then gone again.

You lift your hand to his cheek, gentle.

Then he kisses you.

Hard.

There’s nothing hesitant in it. No more caution, no more reading cues, no more pretend. Just heat, and months of tension finally snapping. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you in deeper.

You kiss him back with everything you’ve been holding in.

Your hands move instinctively, one gripping his shirt, the other slipping around his waist. He shifts, pressing you into the mattress, his knee between yours, his breath shaky against your lips.

When he finally pulls back, just an inch, his forehead rests against yours. Both of you breathing like you’ve just surfaced from underwater.

You whisper, “That didn’t feel like something we’ll forget in the morning.”

Law shakes his head slightly, lips brushing yours.

“It’s not.”

Another beat.

Then you add, teasing, “So much for just sleeping.”

His mouth curves into a tired smile, eyes half-lidded “You started it.”

You laugh soft and warm and tangled in sheets and tension.

And when he pulls you close again, one hand splayed across your lower back, your smile fades into something quieter. Something real.

Because this time, neither of you is pretending.

The next morning, the sun isn’t even fully up when you and Law leave the casino.

No one says anything at first. You walk side by side, close enough that your arms keep brushing, but not close enough to make it obvious.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But the second the Polar Tang comes into view, the nerves hit you like a cannonball.

You’re holding your heels in one hand, the other arm looped awkwardly around your waist to keep Law’s massive coat closed over your dress. Your own shoes were giving you blisters, so somewhere between the casino lobby and the harbor, Law, annoyed and muttering, slipped out of his and made you wear them.

Now here you are, flopping around the deck in his too-big shoes while he walks beside you in his socks, lipstick faintly smudged across the corner of his jaw.

You don’t look at each other. You cannot look at each other.

And then just as your foot slips slightly in one of his clunky boots “Well, well, well… Look who finally decided to come back.”

Shachi.

Leaning on the railing with a bowl of cereal and way too much smugness for six in the morning.

You freeze.

Penguin appears from the stairwell, blinking at you both. His gaze travels from your tousled hair to your crooked dress zipper, to Law’s missing shoes, to your very obvious lipstick on his jaw.

He lets out a slow, exaggerated whistle.

“That,” he says, pointing his spoon between the two of you, “was not part of the mission.”

Law doesn’t even flinch. Just keeps walking, face unreadable except for the ears burning red.

You try to look casual. Like you didn’t just sneak off a casino floor at sunrise “We, uh... we stayed for surveillance reasons.”

Penguin snorts “Yeah, I bet you were surveilling something.”

You shoot him a glare, still wearing Law’s boots “My heel broke.”

“Sure it did. And your lipstick broke too? All over the captain’s face?”

You reach up automatically to touch your lips, and groan when you realize he’s right.

Law growls under his breath “Enough.”

But Shachi’s having too much fun “Man, I thought you’d at least try to sneak back on like it didn’t happen. This is so much better.”

“Do you want to swim today, Shachi?” Law deadpans.

Bepo pops his head out of the hallway “Did you two share a bed? Was it part of the act or did something actually happen? Because you both look like—”

“Bepo.” Law cuts him off like a gunshot.

You turn to face Law, trying so hard not to laugh because the man looks like he wants to teleport to another planet. His hair’s still a little messy. His collar’s open. And he’s got the exact same expression he had when you kissed him: that barely-holding-it-together calm that only you can see cracking.

You mutter under your breath, “We should’ve never come back.”

Law nods “Agreed.”

Then, just when you’re about to make a break for your quarters, Law stops and turns.

He grabs your hand.

The crew goes dead silent.

He lifts your fingers to his lips in one smooth motion. Kisses them.

Soft. Deliberate.

Then walks off with all the calm dignity of a man in socks who’s still the most dangerous person in the room.

Your brain short-circuits. The crew loses their minds.

Penguin lets out a strangled “WHAT—”

Shachi screams “HE’S IN LOVE!!!”

And you’re just standing there, one hand in the air, heart about to burst out of your chest.

You finally bolt down the hallway toward your room, calling back “I’M NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS!!”

Bepo shouts after you, “CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR EMOTIONAL MATURITY!”

You slam your door shut, cheeks on fire, heart racing, and a stupid smile you can’t shake no matter how hard you try.

Cause of my insomnia number one:

😋🍴

(short reacts) | "you confess when you're totally shitfaced drunk" + one piece men

summary: you had WAY past your drinking limit and now you're just exploding with LOVE for him.

characters: crocodile, mihawk, marco, ace, shanks, law, corazon

• ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ •

CROCODILE

You’re swaying in his arms, eyes glossy, cheek pressed against his chest.

“Croco-babyyy…”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I LOVE you.”

He goes rigid.

You grab the front of his shirt.

“Like SOOO much. Like, if someone tried to stab you, I'd bite them. Right on the ankle.”

You squint.

“Your scary lil hook hand is soooo cool, I love it. You're my favorite angry man.”

He malfunctions. Literally just stares at you like you're an alien who dropped from heaven.

“You're drunk.”

“I'm in loveeeeeeee!”

You pass out mid-hug.

He just stands there. Frozen.

Mutters:

“...What the hell am I supposed to do with that.”

(Spoiler: He tucks you in and sits there watching you sleep like a guard dog with heartburn.)

MIHAWK

You cling to his arm like a koala. You’re warm and soft and talking a mile a minute.

“You’re sooo handsome. Like, it’s RUDE actually. I have to look away sometimes cause you’re too hot and I feel like I’m gonna die.”

He blinks.

“You’re intoxicated.”

“I’m INTO YOU.”

He blinks again.

You poke his chest with a pout.

“Do you know how annoying it is to like someone who looks like a vampire prince and has very judgmental eyebrows?”

He raises one.

“THAT.”

Then you melt into his coat and sigh.

“I love you sooooooo much… If you asked me to run away and start a farm I’d do it. For you. I'd plant cucumbers.”

He doesn’t sleep that night.

MARCO

You climb into his lap like a sleepy kitten.

“Marrrrrrcooooo…”

“Yeah, baby?”

You press your forehead to his.

“I love you SO much it’s dumb. Like, I wanna kiss your face and also cry and also buy you matching socks.”

He laughs softly.

“That’s a lotta feelings, huh?”

“It’s not my fault your smile makes me feel like life is worth living.”

He actually covers his face because holy shit that one got to him.

“I’m gonna fucking die, yoi.”

“Noooo you’re not, I love you too much. I won’t let you die. I’ll protect you with SOCKS.”

You fall asleep on him mid-rant.

He kisses your hair and whispers:

“You’re killin’ me, songbird.”

ACE

You run up to him and tackle-hug him.

“ACE I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY!!”

“Wha—?!! Are you okay?!”

“I’m in love with you.”

“YOU’RE WHAT?!”

“Like a lot. Like, if you turned into a plant I’d water you.”

He’s already spiraling. Red. Stammering. Sweating.

“I—uh—what?! When?! Why?!!”

“Cause you’re cute and warm and you make my tummy do loop-de-loops.”

“SO DO YOU!!! WAIT—NO—WHAT AM I SAYING?!”

“Okay, wait, but would you love me if I was a worm?”

You both pass out cuddling under a table with Ace going into specific details about he'd take care of you if you were a worm and how you'd take care of him if he was a plant.

Sabo finds you both crying and whispers:

“Idiots. They deserve each other.”

SHANKS

You stumble in. Red-faced. Teary-eyed. Drunk on rum and love.

“Shanks…”

“Here we go…”

You grab his coat.

“I’m gonna say something crazy.”

“Hit me.”

“I’m in love with you. Like, I’d kill a seagull for you.”

“...That’s a weird standard but I’ll take it.”

“And I think your laugh is sexy. And your scars are cool. And your nose is NICE. And I’d marry you. Right now.”

He pauses.

Smiles.

“Say it again tomorrow when you’re sober, sweetheart.”

“Okay. But you’re mine now.”

“Deal. By the way, what’s your ring size?”

LAW

You shuffle in with a flushed face and a stuffed penguin.

“Trafalgaaaar…”

“Don’t slur my name.”

“I love you.”

He looks up from his book like you just summoned an ancient evil.

“Excuse me?”

“So much. You’re smart. And hot. And I like your hands. And your voice. And if you died I’d start a cult.”

“...A what.”

“A cult. With matching outfits. And hats.”

“You’re fevered.”

“I’m in love.”

You lean on his shoulder and then pass out on his lap.

He doesn’t move for two hours.

CORAZON

You run into him mid-giggle.

“ROSINANTEEEE!!”

He flails.

You grab his face and kiss his cheek.

“You are the love of my LIFE. Your laugh is cute. Your coat is STUPID but I LOVE IT. I love YOU.”

He goes full tomato. Tears are already streaming down his face.

You write “I’D DIE FOR YOU” on a sticky note and slap it to his chest.

Then immediately fall asleep in his arms.

He’s crying and hugging you and writing down “I LOVE YOU TOO” over and over and over.

He genuinely just loves you so much.

RUN, RABBIT, RUN: Part 3

To the Garden

Trafalgar Law x Reader Zombie Apocalypse AU

Part 3 of my @infixop gift for @namism!

CW: Zombies, mentions of death. Pretty tame compared to the other parts tbh. No use of Y/N or gendered pronouns.

WC: 5384

<-Prev Masterlist

(A/N at the bottom)

Law is gone when you wake up. 

You don’t realize at first. The warmth from the blankets and the soft mattress below you keeps you on the edges of sleep. With your eyes closed, and the thoughts in your head not yet coherent, the past three days are almost like a bad dream. Nothing is real, and when you sit up, you’re sure you’ll be back in your own bed, waiting for your alarm to sound despite waking before it. You’ll get up, drink water and go through your morning routine like usual. Almost like everything was just a nightmare to wake up from.

Your eyes snap open. 

The bed beside you is empty. 

You frantically scramble out of the covers, tripping over yourself to slide on your shoes as you hurry to the door.

The apartment living room is empty. So is the bathroom. So is the kitchen. 

Where is he? Through your frantic thoughts, that one rises to the surface. Maybe you shouldn’t have trusted him. Maybe you should've left the night before— abandon him before he could you. 

Your bat is by the front door. It’s untouched, the wet carrion that covered it now dry. You grab it, and yank open the front door. 

Law is standing there. 

His arm is still snug in its sling and a surprised expression is plastered across his face. 

“Are you okay?” He says.

A rush of relief spreads through you, wobbling your knees. You don’t fall. You won’t allow yourself to— but you still speak up, voice hoarse from sleep. “I thought you left.”

Law rolls his eyes at that, nudging you out of the way as he enters the room. He drops Kikoku from his shoulder, resting her against the little ottoman by the door, and sets a plain grocery bag on top. He then turns to you, easing your bat from your hand and placing it gently by Kikoku. 

“I said I won’t leave you.” Law says, then gesturing to the grocery bag. “I was looking for food. He left a lot of supplies.”

At the mention of ‘he’, you gag. 

Right. You killed someone yesterday. Law, if he looked through the whole building, must have found the body already. He’s probably put two and two together. Law steps towards you, reaching out, but you shake your head. 

“Did you go upstairs?” You choke out, eyes wide. 

Law pauses then. He’s staring at you again. His gold gaze is heavy, different from last night but all the same. 

You feel your stomach flip.

“Yes.” He finally says, voice even and soft. “I don’t fault you for doing what you did. I can imagine it was a moment of intense stress, and you did what you needed to survive.”

You shrink back. An array of emotions swell up from the deep dark well inside you. You feel the need to scream and cry and laugh all at once. So you do nothing. You sway the few steps to the little armchair, and collapse into it. 

Your eyes are dry. 

The silence lingers. Despite the sleep you got, you’re still so, so tired. The armchair melts around you, and it feels like you’re falling. The world blurs and you can’t feel your toes. The void of nothingness is a comforting presence. It’s easy to fade into it, disappear into somewhere far from here.  

Law steps in front of you. He kneels, the sling a bright contrast from his dark clothes and hair. Carefully, he touches your hand, lying limp on the armrest. 

“Hey.” 

You glance at him, feeling returning somewhat to your body. 

“Let’s eat first.”

~~~~

Law seems to be handling everything too well. 

You suppose it's the nature of his job, to keep calm and keep others calm even in the most stressful of situations. He’s good at urging you back from yourself, to get you moving again despite the hole in your own morality. 

After packing the leftovers, you leave the shade of the building for a bright, hot sun and light blue skies. The post rain air is fresh. Months of dust has been washed away, leaving behind cleaner streets slowly staining under your feet. Law is a lot more talkative today— or there might just be a lot to get through. 

He waits until you’re well on your way to start, around three blocks from that fateful apartment building.

“I have a satellite phone. It’s out of batteries. They’re type AA. We should aim to find some today.” Law says. 

“Was there none at the apartment?” You say. 

“No.” Law says. “I checked.”

You make a sound of acknowledgement. The sun is melting away the discomfort of the morning. It’s hot on your skin, and you’ve already opened the front of your jacket. The lapels sway with your every step. 

“I can use the phone to contact the camp I was living at on the other side. Then someone can come pick us up.”

“There are others there?” You ask. 

“Yes.” Law replies. “I know some very resourceful people. We managed to make it across the river before things got as bad as they are now. It’s pretty safe there.”

The question from yesterday morning comes back to you. And this time, you’re not afraid to ask it. “Why are you here?” 

When Law doesn’t answer, you stop. At the disappearance of your footsteps, Law turns around. You frown at him, then rephrase the question.

“Why are you here? On this side.”

Law starts walking again, but this time, he does answer. “There is a pharmacist at the camp. He wanted to make an antibody for the infection but we didn't have a lab. I’m the only person there that knows what he needs and might potentially need. We can’t waste a trip like this.”

“Why didn’t he come himself?” You jog to catch up.  

“He’s sixteen.” Law replies.

“Oh.” You say.

Law is easier to talk to than you thought. The topic quickly reels from the camp to Law’s medical career to the various series you both used to read— and Law has never gotten as animated as now, expressions exaggerated and voice tinted with a childish excitement. 

You can’t help but laugh. Not at Law, but with the contagious happiness that is spilling from him. The sun is making everything better. You welcome the warmth with open arms.

It’s been around three hours since you left the apartment. The streets are mostly empty. Occasionally, the two of you have been stepping into empty shops in search of the batteries Law so desperately needs. It’s the third one, always the third one, that you enter where you find something you need. 

The cracked glass door tears away easily with your kick. The shop is dark, but with your bat, the lack of light does not scare you. You shuffle around first, doing an interior check. When all you find is the crack of plastic bits underfoot and the scent of dust, you motion Law inside as well. There isn't much as you slowly look around, browsing the empty shelves until something makes contact with your foot and shoots across the aisle. 

“You okay?” You hear Law ask from the other side. 

“Yes.” You call back. You look down to see what you kicked. It’s a little toy plane, it’s bulky body speaking of a potential battery cavity. You pick the toy up. It’s heavy and full of dust. You turn it around, blowing the dust off the cover, and pop it open. 

Inside are batteries! AA ones at that— and you quickly unlatch the rest of the cover, ripping out the pair. 

“Here!” You run around the isle, handing them over to Law, who eases his bag from his arm, and sets it on the ground. You help him unzip the top, and are surprised to see the contents, finally. Endless clear plastic dishes and tubes and pipettes, all organized in sterilized packaging. He carefully rummages through the organized mess, pulling out the satellite phone. 

It’s almost like a radio, with how chunky it looks, but you guess it can be called a phone if you compare it to the ones from a century ago. You help him unlatch the back, popping out the dead batteries and switching them with the new ones. 

With bated breath, you wait for Law to turn it on. The seconds are agonizing— but you breathe a sigh of relief when the screen on the front lights up. 

“Oh good . . .” You say, mostly to yourself, as Law begins to dial. The sound of tapping buttons fills the air, and then you wait. 

“Law?” The line connects with a beep. A voice travels through from the other side. Law visibly deflates. He slides down against the counter. His coat sags against the floor, and Law leans forward, resting against your shoulder for support.

“Yes Bepo, it’s me.”

“Law!” You think this Bepo guy must be crying from the way his voice cracks. “I knew you’re okay! Guys! It’s Law—” The other side of the line descends into chaos. 

You turn to Law then, and he laughs. The sound is low, and he sags more of his weight against you, causing you to almost fall over. You curse at him, trying to push him off but Law doesn’t budge. He merely laughs harder. 

“Law?” The same voice comes through from the other side. “Tell us where you are!”

Law, in all his genius, begins answering in numbers. 

“How do you even know that shit?” You interrupt. “Just tell them the street we’re on. We all live here, you know.”

“Who’s that?”

Law hands the phone over to you, and you introduce yourself. There’s an apprehension when Bepo responds. He quickly asks for Law again.

“Franky will be there in around thirty minutes.” Bepo says. “Be careful, there is still a lot of them around the bridge.”

“Okay.” Law replies. He hangs up soon after, turning to you with a big grin. It’s almost childlike, and you return the smile, feeling true relief for the first time in days. There are people coming for you. All you need to do is survive for thirty more minutes. 

Suddenly, your airway starts to tickle. It must be from the dust, abundant and glittering under the light of the sun, and you sneeze, barely able to block the reaction and subsequently jamming your elbow right into Law’s ribs. 

He lets out a grunt— while your body tingles from the force. However, the dust does not stop its scratchy path into your mouth and nose.

“Sorry!” You wheeze, eyes watery. The dust is not helping. “I’m going to step outside.” You don’t bother to check if Law follows you or not. There, a few heaving breaths seems to be enough for your airway to clear. 

It’s nice, really nice outside. There’s a part of you that is suddenly sleepy. You’re reminded of cats, basking in the light of the sun as they take an afternoon nap. 

“How far are we from the river?” You ask suddenly. You’ve been to this part of town before, you think. There used to be a park around here that was quite popular with families. You don’t wait for Law when you start walking. It’s like something’s pulling you beneath your feet, and nothing else seems to matter. Nothing else but the sunny skies and the growing sound of rushing water. 

“We shouldn’t go too far.” You hear Law say beside you. 

But there isn’t anything out on the streets. And it’s so nice outside. But you’ve never been this much of an outdoorsy person. Maybe it’s the fact that things are going to be okay for the first time in a long while. But then, you’re not quite sure why you’re so eager to be outside, either. 

You’re not sure for how long you walk. But it was long enough that the road suddenly breaks into a little patch of woods, growing downhill to the riverbank. Under the sun, the river is glimmering. The water rushes by with a speed you can see even from here. And just out of curiosity, that morbid, deadly thing, you step out to the street, where the view of the bridge would be the clearest. 

Like before, the bridge was swarmed with zombies. But now, somehow, the fear you were engulfed with before has faded. They’re still gross, disgusting. Stinking of death. You don’t shake. Not even when a few turn and spot you far too soon, beginning to tumble after you in a big wave. However, a curious thing catches your attention. On the tops of some of the zombie heads, you think you see sprouts. White and green, growing at different heights and different sizes. You don’t get a chance to understand what you’re seeing because Law starts to leave. 

This time, he makes sure to grab your hand. 

The sun is hot on top of your head. You tire just as easily as you did a week ago, but this time, Law makes sure you keep up. The zombies are as slow as ever. Like always, you mutter thanks to whatever is out there that’s keeping the zombies slow. Law’s steps are fast and sure, and you rely on his momentum to keep you going. But then the sound of an engine catches your attention. You turn back, and from across the white bridge, you see a truck. It’s painted blue and red, obnoxious with stripes and stars. But that’s not why you can’t pull your eyes away. 

You haven't seen a working motor vehicle since the military pulled out. The truck charges across the bridge, driving like there is unlimited access to gas. It launches bodies over the railings, crushing them under its massive wheels. 

Law stops, and you crash into him, unable to take your eyes off of it. Then it drives off the bridge and makes a sharp right turn right towards you.

It crushes through the hoard so easily, splashing body parts and fluids everywhere. Some of it lands on your jacket, and you hurry with Law to get out the way as the truck drives in a circle around you, crushing all the zombies all the while the booming reverberation of hard bass, muffled by the truck windows, thunder around you. When the last of the danger in your immediate area disappears, the window in the passenger seat rolls down. Immediately, some heavy rock song begins pouring out the windows. Law gestures at the people inside to turn it down, and the music begins to fade to a more tolerable volume. 

You blink against the shine of the truck, trying to catch a glimpse of your rescuers. Just inside the passenger’s side, you see a man with short green hair. He’s laying leisurely against the seat, hands behind his head, appearing to be asleep despite the pounding bass from a moment ago.

“Traffy! It’s super to see you alive! What’s up with the arm?” From behind the green haired man, you see another person. The reflection of his sunglasses catches your eyes first, then the volume of shocking blue hair next. His voice is loud and boisterous, and the Hawaiian shirt he wears is too colourful and far too clean. It’s almost too much for you after this week of somber death and the struggle to survive. You understand the power of a positive attitude— but this is too much. You reach out, grabbing onto Law’s coat. He shifts, blocking you from view. 

“Fractured it.” Law says, tone flat and bored. “Is Chopper good to take a look at it today?”

“Absolutely!” The driver sends the both of you a large thumbs up from inside the truck. It then shifts into a pointer finger, aimed straight at you. “And who’s this?” 

You gulp, and say your name. The air shifts slightly as the man with the green hair cracks an eye open, looking you up and down. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. He’s dangerous. But you can face danger. 

You lift your chin, stepping out from behind Law, shoving your shaking hands into your pockets.

“No bites?” The green haired man asks.  

Law shakes his head. “I can confirm not.”

They seem to take Law’s word for it. The driver’s smile is back. “Super! Get in the back and we’ll go.” 

“He’s Franky, and the other guy is Zoro.” Law whispers to you he moves to open the backseat. The door doesn’t budge.

“Hey.” He says. “Open the door.”

Franky shoots him an exaggerated look of despair.

“I know someone who will get mad if you get the goo on the seats.” 

“Does that even matter right now?” Law sighs. “Did you not bring plastic sheets?”

“Forgot it.” Zoro shrugs. 

Yikes. You’re not sure your rescuers actually cared about the two of you at all. The back of the truck is open to the elements and very big. You’ve never ridden in the open trunk of a truck before. It’s an experience you fancied. The idea of the wind flowing through your hair, the sun pouring down on your face—

“That’s fine. We can sit in the trunk.” You say to Law.

He nods, and the two of you make your way to the back. Popping the trunk open, you climb up first, dropping the bags and weapons on the floor of the trunk. Then, you reach out to help Law up. He takes your hand, and steps up against the little ledge where a license plate used to be, boosting himself up to sit beside you. You pull up the open back of the truck trunk, feeling the ledge click back in place. 

“Y’all good back there?” You hear Franky shout. 

“Yes!” You answer. 

The truck shoots off before you can sit down. 

You’re hit instantly with a hard gust of wind. It blows you up and back, threatening to knock you against the railing of the trunk. Law grabs you before it can happen. His hand is warm against your wrist. He pulls you down beside him, leaning against the little window at the back of the seats. There, the hood shelters you somewhat from the artificial breeze, and you watch as the truck turns around crumbling streets and abandoned skyscrapers, until it’s barrelling down the very same bridge you and Law worked so hard to get to. 

Railings and zombies and the river below rip past you, and you can’t help but gaze at the flickering sunlight reflecting across the water below. Turning forwards, the only thing you can see is the noon cityscape in front of you, receding with each second. The last week of terrible things seem to shrink with it. Everything you experienced growing less and less, until it’s just a little speck in a snowglobe, one the exact model of your ruined home. 

~~~~

The camp is not a ‘camp’. It’s a compound. 

You realize so when the gates open for the truck, tall, chain linked fences sliding towards the left, right as Franky slowed the truck down. You had peered over the edge, eyes growing wider the closer you got. There is a wall around the perimeter. It’s tall, taller than you sitting in the trunk of this huge truck. They're thick too, almost the length of your arm.

You turn to Law. “How big is this place?”

“The living area is two blocks. We’re planning on expanding the farm again soon.” He says. “But that’s not counting the energy and water systems. Altogether it’s around five. Franky built them before the city one went out. We’ve been using them since.”

“He’s amazing.” You say. 

The truck pulls to a stop at where you assume is its regular spot. The sound of gravel crunches under the wheels. It takes a second more of idling, the rumble of the engine reverberating through your body, before the truck stops. Like before, you carefully unlatch the trunk, hopping off onto the gravel floor. You look around. There are a few other vehicles parked around the courtyard. There seems to be another layer of walls built out from a house, keeping the parking lot and gate from the rest of the camp. You turn around, getting your stuff out of the trunk. 

You help Law slip his bag over his shoulder. Holding out Kikoku, you are pleasantly surprised when he tells you to keep holding her for him. Then, the two of you set off behind Franky and Zoro. They enter the house, past the reinforced front door and the barren insides. You think there are smears of blood on the walls. You don’t want to know. Keeping your head down, you keep walking, staying in line behind Law. Then, you reach the back door. 

They push open the exit, and you’re blinded for a moment. 

Then you see everything. Plants, trees, flowers and grass. Houses with intact windows and people. Not a lot, but still many enough to remind you of a nice day out in the city. You step out behind Law, amazed by everything you’re seeing. There’s conversation bustling, voices carrying over with the wind. You look around, trying to comprehend everything. The contrast from outside the walls of this place pricks at your nerves, and you shuffle closer to Law, unsure of where you’re even going as you make your way down the street at a brisk pace. 

“We’re going to report to the main office first. And we have to let everyone know you’re here too now.” Law says. He’s looking at you with understanding. 

You hope it’s not because you look just as frazzled as you feel. 

Either way, it’s too weird. The streets are clean, the houses painted colourfully in various vibrant shades. There’s a liveliness here you haven’t felt in a long while, and even though the idea of safety is echoed in each brick, each breath and each step you take, you don’t feel it. 

“There’s a rec hall we can use further that way.” Law points towards somewhere in the distance. You nod, because what else can you do?

The four of you walk for another while in silence. The sun is still hot upon your skin, though it is further along the sky. You would usually be thinking of getting back to a safe place now— and today, your first instinct still is. But there is no more need to do that. It does quell your nerves, somewhat, when you finally enter the house that’s been remodeled as the main office. There are a few people there, a man with a penguin on his hat and a kid with a pink hat and blue overalls leaning against the counter, deep in some conversation filled with laughter.

“You’re back!” The kid turns at the sound of the four of you in the doorway, running up to you.

“This is Chopper.” Law supplies. You might’ve never guessed he was a doctor— for he gasps at the sight of Law’s arm. 

“Traffy! What happened to your arm?”

“I fractured it from a fall.” Law says. “Can you take a look at it today?”

The request for his medical aid seems to shift something in him. Chopper stands up taller, confidence growing on his face as he answers. “Of course! You can head to the clinic after you’re done here. I’ll go set everything up first!”

Chopper steps away from the counter, sliding a heavy book across the table under his arm. He waves at you, and you wave shyly back. Law has already crossed the three steps to the counter. The guy behind it reaches out, putting his shoulder as the penguin pom pom on his hat bobbles with the action. 

“Hey, Cap.” He grins from under the brim of his hat. “Glad to see you alive. I’ll let the others know you’re back.”

“This is Penguin.” Law says. “He’s a good friend of mine. He’ll get you in the registry. It’s just a good way to keep track of everyone here. If you leave the camp, you should let the main office know.”

Law, thankfully, stays with you through the whole process. It wasn’t long, per se, but the thought that you are being kept track of again after all this time was . . . somewhat unsettling. Either way, your name is now filed into one of the manila folders tucked into one of the large cabinets behind the makeshift desk. Sometime after Penguin started talking to you, Franky and Zoro left. Now, it’s only Law and you. You exit the house. 

“I’ll show you around.” Law offers. “But we should go see Chopper first.” 

At the mention of the boy, you suddenly remember something.

“He called you Traffy right? Is the nickname a thing here?” You tease. “Should I be calling you that too?”

“If you call me that I’m throwing you out personally.”

“Okay. I won’t.” You say. 

Despite his joking tone, it doesn’t quell the anxiety that’s been bubbling under your skin. It’s all far too pristine. It’s crazy that these people were just . . . thriving while you and so many others are struggling to even survive. And they seem to value the sanctity of this place over the value of outside lives. You can tell they have the resources to help much more than just themselves— but it doesn’t seem like they even want to try. 

Still, you instinctively follow him, staying close even when they swarm Law. They talk over each other enthusiastically. Law merely stands there, a soft smile you’ve learned to recognize growing on his face. 

You stand to the side, unsure what to do. 

It’s not often you feel out of place. But here, at this compound, with the sun shining over you and safety aplenty inside those barricades, you don’t even know how to feel. You suppose the usual emotions, joy, relief, even anger at these people for the unfairness of it all; but you feel nothing. 

All you want is some food, a shower maybe— with their running water— sleep, and, a dastardly thing at the back of your mind: Law.

You watch him talk to his friends, so relieved to see them again after this hell of a week he lived through. He has a life here already. And you have no right to assume he owes you anything. You can make your own life here if they accept you. So the first step to take is to prove you are worthy of living here. You steel yourself, ready to take the first step away—

But then he looks back at you, and your resolve crumbles. 

He calls your name.

You step forward.

And he next few hours are a blur. 

A shower, a tour, eating with everyone—

Law leads you through winding halls, between buildings, and leaves you with others while he goes off to do something by himself. There are too many people with too many personalities for your poor, isolated mind to keep up with.

Franky, Zoro, those two you met earlier. Zoro still stares at you with distrust. 

Nami— orange hair, orange tangerines. She offered you one when you sat down next to her in the dining hall. 

A tall woman with black hair named Robin, who showed you the library— yes, there is a library— 

Sanji, who made dinner, Brook, who sings, and Jimbe, who’s able to lift the long, wooden tables so easily when there are too many people at one and another is needed.

And Luffy, with his sunshine smile and something terrifying behind his eyes. He scares you the most.

There’s something nauseating about them. 

It’s halfway through the night, after you begin falling asleep right where you sit while everyone else is singing and dancing, that you realize why.

They’re too happy here.

~~~~

The taste of fresh fruit lingers upon your lips.

Dinner was many dishes of vegetables, flavoured, seasoned, and platters of fresh cut meat. You wanted to eat all of it, stuff yourself full until you can’t possibly down anything more but Law stopped you. ‘It’s not good to eat so much after months of malnutrition,’ he had said, so you had looked around sadly, and picked a small bowl of fresh strawberries to eat. 

They were ripe and sweet. A taste you never thought you’d experience again.

You’re so tired. But you still can’t fall asleep. 

The lingering remains of the day catch at the edges of your mind. The camp is safe, but it’s a safety that only comes from not knowing what you don’t know. It’s a utopia of ignorance, and you, with all the horrors you’ve experienced woven deep into your bones, you can’t let go of the way it’s shaped you, knowing the danger that lies just beyond these fresh, pristine walls.

But then again, everyone else is happy. No one is worried. Maybe in the end, it’s you who’s wrong. Maybe it's only you who doesn’t belong here.

You sit up. Despite the endless hurricane of thoughts rushing around your head, one thing stands above the rest. 

Law.

You need to see him. To feel him under your fingers and know that he’s alive.

You’re lucky Penguin gave you the room beside Law’s. You don’t think you can stomach bumping into anyone else at the moment. The Strawhats— as friendly as they are— make you uneasy. It’s in the way they smile, living on without a care in the world while the rest of the city is slowly dying, turning into dust under the light of the sun. 

You look both ways before shuffling out of your room, arms chilling with the new T-shirt that’s been gifted to you. There’s a little skull on it, very much like the rotting zombies outside. You knock on his door. Softly. Did Law even hear it— if he is awake? You aren’t sure. But you wait there anyways; and the seconds tick on and on in the moonlight-illuminated corridor. 

Hm, you think. Seems like he’s not awake after all. You turn, resigned to your sleepless fate, but his door opens. 

Law stands there, head free of his hat, the bags under his eyes somehow even more prominent in the moonlight. You think you look the same, haggard, even after this day of supposed relaxation after . . . everything. 

Law whispers your name softly. It’s barely there, like a gentle breeze. 

You swallow your apprehension, and whisper back. “Can I sleep with you?”

He doesn’t say anything. 

He steps aside. 

You enter his room. It’s tidy. Completely ordinary. A small desk sits by the entrance and a bed is shoved into the corner, two sides against the wall.

Law closes the door behind you, then moves to stand by his bed, waiting. You carefully step towards it. It feels like you’re intruding, forcing your way into Law’s space. But then Law lifts the blanket, and your worries fall away one by one. He’s here. And he won’t leave you. You slip in under the sheets. Law’s bed is warm, and smells like him. You lay down, then roll twice toward the wall until you feel the hard surface pressing against your back. 

He follows, easing himself back onto the bed and scooting close. You can’t see him in the darkness, but you do feel him. He sets his good arm over your shoulders, pulling you in close. His breath is warm. His skin is cold. You snuggle closer, mindful of his now casted arm. 

You can’t believe he still wants to touch you, even after knowing you killed someone. You don’t know why you want to keep him close even after he almost left you to die. Luffy and his friends, as much as Law trusts them, scare you. There is a wariness you feel around them. They don’t see you as one of their own. Not yet. Law is, but not you. 

You’ve seen what Law thinks of people he does not value. You’ve seen what he does to them in times of crisis.

But right now, with Law’s arm settling over you and your head tucked into his chest, nothing else matters. You’re safe. And Law is safe too.

You close your eyes.

A/N: STRAWHATS CAMEO‼️‼️‼️

This chapter was lowkey so hard to finish (because of this math assignment that's due TOMORROW actually killing me) but it's done! There is a possibility i'll come back and rework it in the future, but for now I'm happy with it!

This was all I had planned for the event. There's a lot that happened, and there's a lot that is going to happen in universe, but that story is for another time. I like ambiguous endings, and the image I had for the end of this story has always been something of a suspicious utopia in the middle of chaos. I also really like the concept of the strawhats being scary as shit in canon, so i played a little with that idea here.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading! There might be more to come, but that is not guaranteed. I am very busy with school and I only write for fun 😔 I have a few OC x Canon stories I've been working on (notable ones include a oneshot Cowboy AU train robbery and a longer Mafia AU mashed with a Hades and Persephone retelling, and a random Kaya centered Vampire AU that has a Law and OC cameo) (the canon character in the former two is Law. I'm just a Law fan what can i say) that I'm thinking about reworking as x Readers and posting here. Let me know if you're interested and I can make a post about them.

some lore for anyone interested: yes, the zombies are going through another mutation! What is that going to bring? only more horror! They're turning into plants with airborne spores!!!

The strawhats are in a really well reinforced compound. In my head, all the named Hearts are there too. They've got their own farm, sources of protein, etc. (TW ahead: cannibalism mention in next paragraph)

I wanted to explore the possibility of cannibalism in this AU as well but this was part of the SFW portion and cannibalism was probably pushing that line a little too far. This entire fic was probably pushing that line LOL

Either way, They're resourceful people with a lot of different skills, and some are lowkey zombie killing machines, that's why they managed to build these things and survive for so long. Zoro also has his swords. The zombie population around the camp is close to zero. If i do add onto this fic in the future, I'll probably write something about an internal threat in the camp :)))

(a threat in a very familiar form of reader)

writing is so fun

100 Dialogue Tags You Can Use Instead of “Said”

For the writers struggling to rid themselves of the classic ‘said’. Some are repeated in different categories since they fit multiple ones (but those are counted once so it adds up to 100 new words). 

1. Neutral Tags 

Straightforward and unobtrusive dialogue tags: 

Added, Replied, Stated, Remarked, Responded, Observed, Acknowledged, Commented, Noted, Voiced, Expressed, Shared, Answered, Mentioned, Declared.

2. Questioning Tags 

Curious, interrogative dialogue tags:

Asked, Queried, Wondered, Probed, Inquired, Requested, Pondered, Demanded, Challenged, Interjected, Investigated, Countered, Snapped, Pleaded, Insisted.

3. Emotive Tags 

Emotional dialogue tags:

Exclaimed, Shouted, Sobbed, Whispered, Cried, Hissed, Gasped, Laughed, Screamed, Stammered, Wailed, Murmured, Snarled, Choked, Barked.

4. Descriptive Tags 

Insightful, tonal dialogue tags: 

Muttered, Mumbled, Yelled, Uttered, Roared, Bellowed, Drawled, Spoke, Shrieked, Boomed, Snapped, Groaned, Rasped, Purred, Croaked.

5. Action-Oriented Tags 

Movement-based dialogue tags: 

Announced, Admitted, Interrupted, Joked, Suggested, Offered, Explained, Repeated, Advised, Warned, Agreed, Confirmed, Ordered, Reassured, Stated.

6. Conflict Tags 

Argumentative, defiant dialogue tags:

Argued, Snapped, Retorted, Rebuked, Disputed, Objected, Contested, Barked, Protested, Countered, Growled, Scoffed, Sneered, Challenged, Huffed.

7. Agreement Tags 

Understanding, compliant dialogue tags: 

Agreed, Assented, Nodded, Confirmed, Replied, Conceded, Acknowledged, Accepted, Affirmed, Yielded, Supported, Echoed, Consented, Promised, Concurred.

8. Disagreement Tags 

Resistant, defiant dialogue tags: 

Denied, Disagreed, Refused, Argued, Contradicted, Insisted, Protested, Objected, Rejected, Declined, Countered, Challenged, Snubbed, Dismissed, Rebuked.

9. Confused Tags 

Hesitant, uncertain dialogue tags:

Stammered, Hesitated, Fumbled, Babbled, Mumbled, Faltered, Stumbled, Wondered, Pondered, Stuttered, Blurted, Doubted, Confessed, Vacillated.

10. Surprise Tags

Shock-inducing dialogue tags:

Gasped, Stunned, Exclaimed, Blurted, Wondered, Staggered, Marvelled, Breathed, Recoiled, Jumped, Yelped, Shrieked, Stammered.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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MY BOY! THEY'VE ERASED MY BOY!! they deleted him & decided to zoom in on him making heart eyes at Bonney btw.....