They're Judging You

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

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(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)

What even is doodling anymore

Feral children, vegetable sized.

gif by @apparently-artless

OF LAND AND SKY

F!Reader x Trafalgar Law

SFW

Law didn’t find joy around loud noises, uncontrollable chaos, and, over all, people. Like a snow leopard, he preferred to hide in the shadows. Planning, observing, thinking…wanting to make sure that what he envisioned came true.

However, that changed when he and the crew were docked at a village during the winter season—snow was unavoidable and the temperatures were significantly colder than what they were used to.

“Captain, are you really sure you wanna go out there?” Penguin asked, looking out at the white landscape.

Law nodded as he slipped on a coat and zipped it up. “I’ll be gone just for a couple hours. Let Bepo be outside as much as he wants. He deserves it.”

With that said, he stepped outside and felt the frigid wind slice through the air like knives. The town was quiet, muffled by the snow, and the villagers paid him no mind. His history as a former warlord and title as the Surgeon of Death made him untouchable. The fact that he was also involved in Big Mom’s fall added to his list of accomplishments and reasons why he shouldn’t be crossed.

But there was someone willing to cross the line.

You.

At the village, Law had a goal. He was looking for you, his contact, someone who promised him information regarding Blackbeard, his next target for elimination.

As he passed by a library, he didn’t hesitate to enter. In your letters you described a quiet meeting place. And a library fit the description perfectly.

Quiet corners make better conversation.

Inside, Law shook off the snow and walked down the quiet aisles, eyes wandering from their books to him. He didn’t know what you looked like, which was a minor complication. But the situation was still controllable. If he played his cards right. If you two found common ground, it would be smooth—any hesitation from you he’d bend to his favor.

“Hey, stranger,” your voice cooed, smooth and amused. Law turned and looked at you, who naturally expressed an aura of confidence with a dash of elegance, a dangerous combination. Your dark gold eyes had an intense stare, posture straight, and you stayed in place.

You weren’t afraid of him. You had no reason to.

“Didn’t expect Mihawk’s daughter to be lounging around here.”

You lifted an eyebrow as you set a book in your hands back on the shelf. “What gives you that idea, Dr. Trafalgar?” His name sounded smooth as silk from your lips, your tone containing a hint of coyness that you knew would test his patience.

“Instinct.”

“Ah, like a cat hunting its prey.” You smiled, turning to look at him fully. “I’m more of a hawk like my father and observe from above.”

“Then we’ll get along well.” Law replied. You leaned against the bookshelf and crossed your arms over your chest, your fingers naturally touching the matching cross necklace you wore like your father.

“We’ll see about that.” You started, “and, even though Mihawk is my father, I am my own person. Don’t expect me to be like him.”

“Noted.”

Now there you were: two predators, ones from land and sky planning a high stakes mission, not knowing that this partnership unfolded a growing tension none of you planned for.

@onepiece-bingo

Animal Instinct

you know the trope where the monster is on a rampage but is so careful with the people they care about? anyway

Sketchbook page of our fav sharpshooter hehe 🎯

@ameirin's concept art for my fic Homesick

law again but this time i use my drawing tablet instead of my mouse

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 think they should just edit anime Chopper right into the live action like Who Framed Roger Rabbit

BAHAHA WHY DOES HIS LITTLE FACE REMIND ME OF THAT ONE GRINCH MEME

The look of a man who is about to try to invent the 300 sword style