Shirtless Version On Patreon 🫠

Oh my god, I love your Katakuri fics so much, they are so good! I was wondering if I could make a request with that same time-line, following reader and her children, but maybe—she’s injured, and she’s pregnant with one of them? And it’s just immediate devastation, but it turns out the kiddo will be okay?

Idk I think Katakuri would just go f-ing ballistic, and you write him so well, especially with a sweet-hearted reader, so I couldn’t help but ask!

(I’m not sure if you’ve done this before, but if you have pleaseeee direct me in that direction.)

⛥ﾟ・。 necklace

SECRET BONUS/prequel to pocus -- (after orchids) katakuri returns from another mission to find that you are with child. but when a familiar face returns to harm you, katakuri goes fucking ballistic.

cw: fluff, comfort, kinda angsty a bit, dad katakuri, katakuri is katakuri, the girls are adorable, he is thirty-, you are thirty-four, soda is eleven, cocoa is eight, the twins are four, chai is two,

"Commander!" Kota greeted, subconsciously holding his breath as he straightened his posture, bowing in respect as the general entered through the impossibly huge doors of the Whole Cake Chateau.

His spurred footfalls were like knives cutting through the silence of the room, his gaze just as sharp as it landed on the boy.

"Welcome back, sir!"

Silently, Katakuri nodded, shrugging off his cloak and allowing the guards to take it as he started down the hall.

"Kota," he replied in a monotone, eyes trained forward and walk powerful. "If you're here, then I take it all the necessary preparations have been made?"

Fervently, the boy nodded, quickly flipping through the pages of his clipboard until he found his to-do list.

"Yes, sir! As requested, a bouquet of orchids has been sent to Lady (y/n)'s bakery along with the necklace you commissioned. And as for the rest of her gifts, they are being delivered to the mansion as we speak."

"And her day?"

"Completely clear. I finished her paperwork and already have her stamp of approval for today's menu. In about an hour, I'll take over the bakery, which leaves her totally free from now 'til tomorrow afternoon."

At the good news, Katakuri nodded, before his tone turned chilling.

"Security breaches?"

Thickly, Kota swallowed, a cold shiver rolling down his spine at the taller man's oppressive aura.

"Not a single one. The gate system at the mansion is functioning at one-hundred percent, and, per instruction, her guard detail has remained around the clock. Though, of course, they've been relieved upon your arrival."

Before Katakuri could say anything in response, a bright, warm presence began to flood his senses, forcing a rather Pavlovian thrum to rush through his veins, already sending his heart into a fluster.

The familiarity of this blissful sensation felt like coming home more than entering a house ever could, and almost always meant that his favorite person in the world was nearby.

His beautiful wife.

Slyly, he glanced out the corner of his eye, his gaze visibly softening watched to come to a stop near a humongous marble column, hands clasped together as you waited patiently for your husband to finish his debrief.

Tranquility could not even begin to define the calmness that washed over his body at the sight of you, the experience like a soft, rolling tide of the freshest water one could dream of.

Hell, the man hadn't realized how much he was dying of thirst until he'd caught a glimpse of the ocean.

"Good work," he commended, already checked out of the conversation as he turned to walk toward you. "You're dismissed."

Respectfully, Kota bowed once again.

"Thank you, sir," he nodded. "Enjoy the rest of your day."

And with that, the boy quickly scurried away, thoroughly understanding that now was his cue to leave.

Katakuri, on the other hand, had no place he'd rather be, managing to cross the width of the large hall in four long strides before finally reaching you.

Even his scarf couldn't muffle his grin as he enveloped your smaller frame in a tight bear hug, relishing your tiny squeal, and the feeling of you in his arms once again, as he swirled you both around without a care in the world.

"Kuri," you sighed, relieved, as you cupped what you could of his face in your hands, pressing two, firm kisses on both sides of his nose before throwing your arms over his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he allowed himself to inhale your sweet scent, years of work in your bakery giving you the permanent smell of cinnamon sugar and vanilla.

It was intoxicating, like a drug he could never get enough of.

"I've missed you, (y/n)," Katakuri muttered into your flesh, tightening his hold around your waist.

Pulling back, you held his face in your hands once again, smoothing your thumbs over his cheeks as your eyes rushed to scan over his face, committing his every feature to memory.

"There was word that you'd run into trouble at sea," you stated, breathlessly, your unease finally beginning to make sense.

"I'm all right," he assured, his large hand coming up to cup your cheek, his heart doubling in size as you instantly leaned into his touch.

You stared up at him as if he was the only thing in the world, as if he'd hung the stars and moon right before your eyes.

He wasn't too shy to admit, the sight brought a certain puff to his chest.

"Been ages since I've seen your face," Katakuri stated, taking a moment to marvel. "Would've been longer if it weren't for Custard's wedding."

To your extreme surprise, he hooked a finger into his scarf, tugging it down just enough to free his mouth before pressing his lips firmly against yours, nearly toppling you over.

Off balance, you tightly gripped his shoulders, eyes slightly wide as he pulled back, your mind still reeling at what he just did.

"I don't think Mama would've ever brought me back from that damn island."

With that, he was quick to jump back in, capturing your lips in another heated kiss before you managed to pull away.

"Kuri, not here."

"Yes, here," he purred, chasing your lips as you left him.

That is... until he realized you were shaking.

Instantly, he stopped everything, shifting to rest his hands on your shoulders as he looked you over.

"Are you all right? You're trembling," he asked, brows furrowed with concern. "What's going on?"

Nervously, you glanced down at your feet, taking a second to muster up your courage.

It was now or never.

"Kuri..." you started, a faint glint of fear flashing in your eyes as you stared up at him, only confusing the man more, "...I'm pregnant."

Instantly, his eyes went wide, yours frantically scanning over his face for every minute expression.

"That's—"

He paused a moment, searching for the right word, his hesitation sending a cold pang of terror through your chest.

Noticing this, he quickly corrected himself, pulling you into his embrace and placing a kiss on your temple.

"That's wonderful."

"What are we going to do? With your mother and the bakery, I—"

"We're not gonna worry about anything right now," he assured, carefully lifting your chin, allowing his thumb to glide over your bottom lip. "This is a happy moment... the happiest moment of my life."

The man placed a gentle kiss on your hairline, tightening his hold on you as your body began to slowly melt into his.

"You're making a habit of these welcome-home surprises."

At that, you chuckled, glancing up at him with a knowing look.

"I'm afraid this one's all you, my love... given how much you enjoyed the last surprise."

His cheeks flushed at the reminder, your night of passion two months ago still very much at the forefront of his memory.

One of the best nights of his life... and one you made sure he'd never forget.

"Speaking of, we've got time to take our merienda early," he chimed, hands sliding down to rest on your hips. "I've made sure the both of us are free until tomorrow evening."

"Perfect," you smiled.

Leaning forward on your tippy-toes, you pressed a firm kiss on his cheek before tugging up his scarf with a cheeky grin.

"Let me just go get my things."

As you slowly pulled away, Katakuri's hand persisted, carefully sliding down your arm as you gracefully slipped away.

But, even when you finally left him, his arm remained outstretched, limply reaching for you as he watched your perfect form disappear further into the castle.

God, the things he'd do for you...

Never in a million years would he have ever foresaw himself so helpless at the hand of the woman he'd see around town with her nose in a recipe book.

Never would he have guessed that he'd be at her complete and utter mercy.

The man hung off every silvery word that left your plush lips, your every glance giving his heart new life.

Hell, one would think flowers sprang at your feet the way he revered your every step.

He truly and wholeheartedly believed that you were the embodiment of beauty and perfection, no matter how many flaws and quirks you attempted to point out—to him, your every trait was a pro.

And now, with the wonderful news that you were with child, a certain sense of wholeness began to settle itself in Katakuri's chest.

Of course, you overflowed his heart in every way possible, but this feeling was different.

He was starting a family... not one out of power or obligation but of love.

Real, honest-to-goodness, knock-you-off-your-feet love.

Every decision he'd ever made had led him to this perfect moment of totality, where the world seemed brighter and his stresses nonexistant.

Under his scarf, he couldn't help but don a sincere—honestly adorable—smile, a child-like sense of giddiness rippling through his veins.

He was going to be a father.

Humming to yourself, you gave up on trying to muffle your smile, too busy marveling at the beautiful flower arrangement your husband got as you touched up your hair the mirror.

Leaning forward, you tucked a few unruly flyaways behind your ear, before taking a step back and examining your dress, specifically by turning to the side.

Sure, being only two months along, there wasn't a noticeable bump.

But that did stop you from talking.

"Oh, I can't wait to meet you!" you sing-songed, giddy, as your hand slid over your belly. "My little girl... my baby boy... we're going to have so much fun. We'll tell stories and play, and I'll bake whatever your little heart desires."

Already you were prepared to give this child the world, to shower it with all the love and affection you'd failed to receive during your childhood.

Your father, although present, was quite distant, more concerned with finding a way to worm into the Charlotte family than anything.

Your mother, although warm, had sadly died of a severe cold when you were only eight.

And with no brothers or sisters to speak of, you'd spent the better half of your childhood raising yourself, occupying your time by learning how to bake until you eventually became one of Totto Land's most esteemed chefs—at the ripe age of eighteen, no less.

Things were going to be better for them though... you would make sure of it.

Thoughtlessly, your hand rose to rest over your heart, eyes drifting over to the nearby table only to find that your new necklace was gone.

Concerned, your brows furrowed.

"What the—"

"Looking for this?"

You practically jumped out your skin at the unknown voice, a sharp gasp ripping from your lips as you whipped around and bumped into the vanity, knocking over your new vase of flowers with a loud smash.

(Despite still being all the way in the foyer, Katakuri heard this, his brows furrowing almost instantly as he started toward the dressing room.)

Turning toward the source, your eyes went wide as the man you thought you'd never see again menacingly shut the door, stepping out from the shadows behind it with a sinister grin.

'No... it can't be...'

"Gino..." you exhaled, stomach dropping to the floor as your chest began to rapidly rise and fall, an all-too familiar sense of terror turning your blood to ice.

"Ah, so you do remember me," he grinned, pleased, as he began to stalk toward you, twirling you gold necklace around his finger. "That's good... saves me a whole lot of trouble."

Every red flag one could possibly imagine was waving fiercely as the man approached, an insidious glint in his eye.

You knew better than to try to take him on yourself, and with no nearby weapons, you opted for the smarter option.

"KATAK—!"

With lightning speed, the man surged forward, harshly silencing you with a slap across the face, the force sending you crashing to the ground.

"Nuh uh uh. Hubby's not gonna be here to save you," Gino sneered, grabbing you by the neck before lifting you back on your feet. "God, doesn't this bring back memories?"

Instantly, your mind flashed with images from your relationship with the bastard.

Screaming...

Begging...

Crying... so much crying...

You thought you'd left that life behind you; but, like most things, the past always seemed to come back when you least expect it.

"What... do you want... bastard..." you manged in between breaths, doing your best to keep a steady flow of air despite his bruising grip on your neck.

"I want what's rightfully mine... what I never should've had to give up," he paused a moment. "Though, I suppose things are different now that you're his whore."

Shamelessly, his eyes raked over you, taking account of every inch of your body before finally landing on your face.

"Then again... you've always were a real knockout."

Suddenly, Gino's eyes seemed to brighten, a lightbulb going off in his head.

"How about a kiss, eh? For old times sake," he suggested, though it wasn't really a suggestion at all. "You know I used to rock your work... does your husband do that, too?"

His grip tightened, and your eyes slowly went wide as air became scarcer and scarcer.

"Gino... please..." you gasped, frantically tapping his shoulder, hoping to invoke some sort of human emotion in him.

"God, I forgot how great it feels to hear you beg," he grinned, manically. "Y'know, not a day went by for me these last two years without thinking of this very moment... and not its about to become a reality..."

Slowly, he began to pull you closer, lips puckered and ready.

'Oh, God!'

"No...!"

Suddenly, the door opened to reveal Katakuri, his eyes widening and chest igniting at the sight before him.

Your eyes... glassy and fear-ridden.

Your throat... slowly beginning to bruise.

Your cheek... outlined by a stinging, red hand mark

Causes A, B, and C of Gino's imminent death.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" he roared, startling Gino into dropping you as a mochi appendage swiftly snatched him up by the throat.

"Katakuri!" you gasped, entering a small coughing fit as you attempted to sit up.

Harshly, the general strangled Gino, waiting until he began to audibly choke before slamming him against a wall.

But your husband refused to waste any time, already retrieving Mogura from his mochi before storming toward the man with murderous intent.

His blood was practically steeping with rage, planning on turning your bastard of an ex into a smear on the wall for what he did.

The Sweet Commander had never felt such intense rage before, and you better believe he was going to take it out on the bastard responsible.

"Why don't you try fighting like a man without your Devil Fruit tricks?" Gino spat, brows furrowed as he coughed himself back to life, standing from the crumbled remains of the wall and entering a fighting stance.

Without hesitation, Katakuri tossed Mogura to the ground, deactivating his mochi and shrugging off his leather vest before surging forward and decking Gino right in the face.

The blow swiftly brought the man to his knees, but your husband was quick to hit him with another, this time laying him out flat on the floor.

Though Katakuri simply snatched him up and stood him back on his feet, using the man's body as a punching bag as he hit him with all sorts of hooks, jabs, and elbow strikes.

Thoroughly bloodied, Gino had managed to meet one of the general's fists with his own, but the sickening crack and the scream that followed proved it to be a fruitless endeavor.

Katakuri continued like this for a long while, cycling through some boxing moves before smashing and dragging the bastard through the most painful things in the room—the glass table, the mirror, the window.

That is, until Gino finally took his last breath, having died from being literally beat to death—his body was completely mangled and his face totally unrecognizable.

But your husband couldn't have cared less, finishing off by snatching your necklace out of Gino's dead grasp before making his way over to you, being sure to tug off his bloody gloves and discard them.

"(y/n)—"

"Katakuri!" you quickly launched yourself in his arms, burying your face in his neck as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Thank God!"

Instantly, he reciprocated, holding you flush against him as his hand came up to stroke your hair, the two of you sinking to the floor together.

"I-I was so scared! I thought he was gonna—"

You trailed off, not even wanting to think about what could've happened if your husband hadn't shown up

Katakuri caught on immediately, fury already beginning to bubble in his chest once again at the implication.

Fuck shattered bones and internal bleeding... the bastard got off too easy.

"You're safe now," Katakuri promised, muttering into your hair. "He can't hurt you anymore.'

"Please stay with me..." you sniffled, tightening your hold on him. "Don't leave me alone."

As if the statement was absurd, he shook his head, holding you tighter as well.

"I'm not going anywhere, my love... I'm right here."

if i follow u 

and u  follow me

we are friend

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)

The Menacing Bra |Master-list|

Fluff, swearing, kissy-kissy, crack, cringe and cliche?? Longish-drabble

You and the cook have a moment, and he actually grew a pair to make a move

!finally revised—lemme know if there’s errors pls and ty!

……………….

Laundry day.

Oh boy, what joy, the repetitive chore that tested your limits. Chipping away your mental capacity and motivation to do absolutely anything.

You’d spent hours on end scrubbing and rinsing the clothes, only to wear again, ferevently repeating the cycle.

You cursed, pinching a clip to your nose. You’d always wished there was some cheat sheet, some easy way out, other than free labor from the boys.

Especially when you’d gotten stuck with Nami and Robin’s clothes. You’d kindly asked, seeing their closets were getting low and they’d never decline an offer like that.

Because, honestly, who would? Washing clothes by hand was time consuming, and neither you nor the women had the patience for it.

Sure you might be throwing yourself under the bus here, but you cannot for the life of you throw fucking soap and bubbles for an hour.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you scrubbed and submerged the materials hoping you could get done with this before lunch was done.

Which the odds were in your favor as you hadn’t procrastinated as much as you normally did. Meaning you’d started early on it, and there was nice weather! Though that luck didn’t last long as a distant crash emitted from downstairs.

“Spoke too soon,” you muttered, hearing a distant laugh and girlish scream follow after one another. A familiar shout rang after and a chaotic catchy cackle echoed.

You didn’t even want to think what the cook was dealing with now.

However speaking of the boys, if you even had to touch their laundry you’d pass away. That was an actual health hazard, and even thinking about it made your skin crawl.

You shuddered, shaking your head as a shiver ran through your spine, causing some bubbles to fly.

Ew. Just imagining the men’s laundry was a shit show. Maybe not Sanji’s, as he actually cared about his hygiene—but regardless, it was still gross.

Without even realizing, your thoughts filtered back to the cook who’d still been hollering in the kitchen. Consequently reprimanding the idiots for whatever crime they outdrew.

Though the thought of his agitated face made you smile.

The way his brows creased into a frown, and the way his jaw would have clenched—sharpening his chin. You silently cursed as your mind wandered further, leaving the rest of you to the mercy of your imagination.

Ok, sure, maybe you had fallen for the hopeless romantic—but how could you not?!

He’d always showered you in devoted affection—heartfelt compliments, and any craving you could think of. You saw him as the perfect package.

At-least from your point of view.

Maybe a little perverted in the terms of others, but that was just his charm, or so you’d convinced yourself. You had never had an issue with him, he’d never really lust after you—or anyone else for that matter.

Not that you knew of, which made it easy to brush off. Yeah sure—maybe an unhinged comment every now and then, but it could be a lot worse.

Deep down, his selfless acts and perverted thoughts felt more like a puppy love than anything. Appreciation, admiration, and his firm morals…were always so oddly refreshing.

…

However speaking of that said appreciation, you were almost done with this stupid laundry. You just had to hang up one of your bra’s.

The deck seemed to finally quiet, meaning lunch was ready. So as quickly as you could, you stepped onto the railing, reaching to a height where you could hang the garment.

Ignoring the warm breeze that rushed past, you hopped down to deal with the soapy water dumping it overboard.

“____, my love! Lunch is done,” Sanji called, his voice glowing with an excited smile as he steadily rounded the corner to take you inside.

“Yeah, just a sec!” You replied, shaking the soapy suds from the container watching them fall to the ocean below.

“No worries, I can wait darling.”

Turning back with a sigh, you weren’t met with the handsome face of the cook, but a sharp gust of wind and wet towel speedily flying towards you—smacking you straight through your face.

“Shit-“ Thwack

“Damn wind—you alright?” His voice reached, muffled over the violent winds. The pressure being immeasurable as it howled around and over the ship, shoving you against it’s side with blunt force.

You managed to holler back a muffled response, but the towel had still blocked your vision, making it impossible to see. The smell of a wet towel wasn’t pleasant, though it’d disappeared and fallen to the floor as the wind had finally died down, a sopping thud following to the floor. An annoying imprint was left on your shirt, peskily being a darker hue from what it originally was.

“Ugh, what the hell—you okay?” You asked, looking up to the cook as you wiped a dry sleeve across your face—but you froze seeing the sight in-front of you.

No.

Actually die.

He’s dead. You killed the man—or well, the bra that covered his face did. He was as red as a tomato, frozen in place. And you would’ve laughed at the sight if your weren’t embarrassed out of your mind.

Your hands slowly came out infront of you, hesitating at what to do with yourself—and the situation.

“Sanji?”

..

“S-so soft..” he whispered, dramatically plummeting to the floor.

There he goes…

You let out a long sigh, watching as a familiar pathetic trail of blood streamed from his nose. You slowly knelt to his side calling his name again, watching as he twitched like some possessed, squashed cockroach—far too gone for some unknown reason. He was clearly down as bad as you were for him—if not far worse.

Peeling off and tossing aside the bra, your hands hovered hesitating over his face for a moment, before you gently patted his cheeks, hoping to snap him out of his spell. However, he was painfully out like a light.

“Hellooo? Earth to sanji?” You sang, growing increasingly worried as the seconds stretched on.

Sure he had nose bleeds, but never this bad. Maybe back-up was needed.

“Hey!” You finally snapped, gently swatting his face—unable to wait any longer as the seconds and leading minutes painfully dragged on. You’d silently regretted your decision as his eyes fluttered open into hearts—but you could never stay irritated with a face like that.

“Yes darling?” he stuttered, quickly reaching into his pocket as he dabbed a light blue handkerchief you’d gifted him to his face. He secretly felt as if he’d been to heaven itself, knocked out by the cusp of a bra, and awoken by an angel.

“Are you okay?”

“Haha, yes—lovely,” He slurred, obviously still locked in the cages of the aftermath.

You could only grumble at his words—and at the sight. Your heart hammered at the way his eyes shined at your own, and the way his gentle smile lingered. Your heart was taking too many hits, and you really tried to fight it, but your gaze softened looking to his—locking gazes. Without the hearts.

As the air suddenly grew tense, and a heat built—Sanji was up in the blink of an eye offering you his hand, sending you a charming smile as his eyes still lingered.

“Are you sure?” You hummed, taking his hand.

“You’re offly pink.”

“I’m sure, and it’s only for you my Angel.” His voice softened, coming out with zero hesitation, hoping for—and ever so loving your reaction. The way your cheeks flushed, and the way your eyes teasingly rolled, a soft chuckle leaving your lips.

God he wanted you closer.

So he did. It was sudden, but his arm wrapped around your waist and it shamelessly pulled you closer.

He could tell you were nervous, and once again loved it. He loved everything about you. How your breath hitched, and how you brought your arms infront of coyly distancing yourself…

He knew if you’d given him a chance he would go hours on end naming every reason you were so adored. And he was tempted to ask, as you how you felt, but he knew it wouldn’t be so easy to get out of you—so his hand grasped your waist tighter, letting himself lean slightly against you.

His eyes scanned your body, your eyes, your face—your language for discomfort. But he didn’t, so he continued. And he knew a little teasing couldn’t hurt.

“Is it too much?”

Absolutely.

No. Not at all. Not even in the slightest.

You repeated to yourself, unable to properly think enough so you could speak. How could he affect you like this? Making you just…so god damned flustered. Your heart thudded yet again in your chest as you watched a soft smirk tug at his lips—and a light laugh sounded after.

“I’m joking, easy,” he mused, reaching a hand to very gently push some hair out of your eyes.

“No you’re not.” You muttered, cursing the way your voice was so small.

“…You’re right, I’m not.”

And for another moment, his eyes locked with your’s.

It felt as if your lungs had been in his hold, being squeezed softly—making you breathless as he finally leaned in.

Sanji slowly moved his hand from your waist to the nape of your neck, pulling you in, and you could feel the heat rise between you as he watched your lips like honey to a bee.

Sanji felt as if you looked far too sweet not to be held, not to be touched—not to be loved…and he couldn’t even comprehend how’d you taste. He knew he was far too eager to wait, and he’d controlled himself with you for far too long.

His lips longingly met yours, and you melted into it—sliding your hands from his chest to his neck—pulling your hips to his.

Sanji quietly groaned, his legs almost buckling at the feeling, and he needily slipped his tongue to meet yours, further deepening it. The kiss was a first time rush, feeling ever so feverish—and love ever so yearning fully deep.

Finally taken from the shelf you’d both restlessly waited upon, dusted off and brought into the light of the peaceable sense of purpose and belonging you both seemed to give each other.

You parted away to take a breath, but Sanji was too eager. His hands pulled you back and his head further tilted into your’s…

Until a door beside the two of you suddenly opened. An impatient captain running your moment.

“Sanji! Can we eat now?!” A hangry Captain huffed, far outstretching the scene.

“Hey what are you—“

You and Sanji frantically pulled away, letting out a stifled cough you walked past the boy.

“We’re done! He just came to tell me lunch was done! All is well, all is just fine!” You cheeped, bringing a hand to your mouth as you wiped away any dampness—fleeing the scene, turning bright red.

After your quick exit, you’d failed to notice the awkward scene you’d left behind—a very hungry luffy, and a now seething Sanji.

“Huh? What’s her deal—“

“Did you have to ruin that?!” He snapped, grabbing the gummy dolt by his shirt and rapidly shaking him. He didn’t even bother to hide the blush on his face.

“You idiot! Could you not see I was having a moment! I’ve waited forever for this—and you just had to plow through and ruin it!”

“Wh-at moment! And what d-o you me-an ruin it! I just sa-id I was hun-gry!” his rubber head flopped back n’ forth, as he tried—but ultimately failed avoiding the cook’s wrath.

Yeah, sure, Luffy might’ve been hungry, but so was Sanji. He was practically starving.

………………………………

hey mutuals, followers, friends.

you are not annoying

I followed you because I LIKE what you have to say. I look forward to seeing your thoughts, your moodboards, your gripes, your chats, your screaming, your taste in music and art, your writing, your pictures. you!!!!! yes, you!!!!!!!! so please. make that post, embrace your creativity, show me your spirit, show me your heart!!! I want to see it, and I have a feeling I'm not the only one!

WIP game!

Thank you for the tag mootie @chibinasuu

•~•~•~•

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the |files in your wip folder, regardless of how non descriptive or ridiculous. Tag as many people as you have wips. People send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

•~•~•~•

1. Anxieties (Straw Haw x Reader)

2. Sleepy Stalls (Trafalgar Law x !Fem!Reader)

3. Card DECLINED (Monster Trio+Law x Reader)

4. A Sniper’s Love (Usopp x !Fem!Reader)

5. Death Of Pizzaz (Trafalgar Law x Reader)

6. You’re Going Down Shits and Giggles

(Roronoa Zoro x !Fem!Reader)

•~•~•

I’m excited to get these done! Be sure to ask questions! 🫶

| @ink-perfect @angel1010xx @slowcatsisland

If you wanted to join >:)

•~•~•

Glimpse of Us

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Zoro can’t stop seeing Kuina in you—her voice, her stance, her likes and dislikes. As the subtle comparisons mount, you’re left feeling like a shadow, never fully seen for who you are. Can he ever truly see even a glimpse of you, or is it always a glimpse of her?

Word Count: ~4,000

tags: angst, emotional distance

my masterlist here ♡

You joined the Straw Hat crew just after Dressrosa, your sword at your hip and fire in your veins. Zoro was the first to spar with you, his eyebrow raising as your blade nearly nicked his sleeve.

“Not bad,” he muttered. “What’s your name again?”

You told him, and when you smiled, something in his eyes flickered. You didn’t know it then, but he was remembering someone else.

Your face, the way your expression softened when you smiled, reminded him of her. The way your eyes sparkled with that fire, it was too familiar. It wasn’t just your face; it was the way it was framed with your hair, the way your lips curved when you laughed—something in your features felt like the ghost of someone long lost.

“She was strong,” he said under his breath, not to you—but to the ghost behind your shoulder.

Still, he trained with you every morning. He watched you eat three bowls of rice like it was nothing. He called you annoying when you talked too much and interesting when you didn’t back down. You’d catch him staring sometimes—his gaze unreadable.

You thought it was the beginning of something.

⸻

It was late, and you were both on watch. The Thousand Sunny rocked gently beneath your feet, stars swimming above you.

“You always stay up this late?” you asked, sitting beside him on the lion’s head.

“Yeah,” he said. “I like the silence.”

You looked at him, and he didn’t look away.

“I never asked,” you said softly. “Why did you become a swordsman?”

There was a pause. Then: “A promise.”

“To who?”

He was quiet again, gaze drifting to the sea. “Someone who meant a lot.”

You nodded. You didn’t press. But his hand brushed yours—rough fingers curling slightly—and when he didn’t pull away, neither did you.

You thought that maybe this was how it began: gently, gradually.

⸻

It started with little things.

Zoro offered you her favorite drink from the fridge. He mentioned her name once by mistake—Kuina—and froze like the air had been knocked out of him.

You pretended not to notice.

But then came the slip-ups.

“She used to hold her sword like that,” he said mid-training, watching you adjust your grip on the blade.

You paused, sword in hand, before nodding lightly. “Guess it works for me too,” you replied, though it stung.

“She hated fish too,” he noted over dinner one night, pointing at your plate when you hesitated to eat. “You like it, but… she never could stomach it.”

You gave him a forced smile, trying to ignore the coldness creeping into your chest. “I guess I’m different.”

At first, you smiled. You laughed it off, letting it go.

Until it kept happening.

“Kuina always said that.”

“Kuina used to hum that song.”

“Kuina—”

You slammed your fork down one night at the table, but you didn’t say a word. He didn’t notice your silence. Or maybe he chose not to.

⸻

Nami found you in the hallway after another awkward dinner, your arms folded tight across your chest.

“He doesn’t mean to hurt you,” she said gently. “It’s just… grief. Sometimes it sticks.”

You stared at the wall, trying to find something to focus on, but the words kept repeating in your head. Grief. Grief. Grief.

“I’m not her,” you said quietly, though you weren’t entirely sure who you were trying to convince—Nami, or yourself.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be her.”

“You’re not.”

You bit your lip, voice breaking. “Then why does he keep looking at me like I am?”

⸻

You found him in the crow’s nest, sharpening his sword.

“Zoro,” you said quietly.

He looked up, pausing mid-stroke. “Hm?”

You stepped closer, heart in your throat. “What did you see when I joined the crew?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Was it me?” Your voice trembled. “Or was it just someone who reminded you of her?”

Zoro sat up straighter, eyes narrowing like he couldn’t believe you were saying this. “Y/N—”

“You talk about her like she was everything,” you said, a soft ache rising in your voice. “And maybe she was. I understand that. But you can’t keep looking at me like I’m her. I’m not a ghost. I’m not your memory.”

He stood slowly, arms hanging at his sides. “I know you’re not—”

“Do you?” you snapped, stepping back like his presence burned. “Because every time you mention her favorite food, her stance, her voice—it feels like I’m being folded into a mold I never agreed to fit.”

Zoro’s mouth parted, but no words came.

You bit out the words, sharp and shaking. “I’m not Kuina.”

His voice came low and rough. “Yes. You are not.”

There was a pause, sharp as a blade between you.

“So then,” you whispered, “what about the people who are here? Who want to love you now? Do they even stand a chance?”

He closed his eyes like your words had split him open. “I never meant to make you feel that way.”

“But you did,” you said, voice cracking. “You made me feel like I was someone you were trying to remember—not someone standing right in front of you.”

Zoro opened his eyes again, pain flickering behind them. “That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is that you keep carrying her into every room we’re in and then wonder why I feel invisible.” You stared at him, your heart pounding. “Do you even see me for who I am? Or is all you see the parts of her that I happen to resemble?”

He looked stunned.

“Do you even know what I like? What I hate? What I’m afraid of? Or have you only been memorizing Kuina all over again through me?”

Zoro’s voice dropped. “I see you.”

“Then tell me something about me,” you challenged, stepping closer. “Not something I remind you of. Something real. Something only I would say or do or think. Tell me you see me.”

He opened his mouth—but nothing came out.

His lips parted, his brow furrowed, eyes darting like he was searching for the right words in the fog of his guilt.

But there was only silence.

Just that.

Your breath hitched.

“See?” you said, and your voice cracked like glass. Disappointment twisted your expression as you stepped back, something fragile and unspoken crumbling inside you.

⸻

You stopped training with him.

You laughed a little less. You avoided late watches.

He noticed. But he didn’t chase.

Sanji filled the silence in the kitchen. Luffy never asked why you stopped joining Zoro on the deck. The crew carried on. And maybe you did too. Maybe that’s what survival looked like.

But some nights, you stood at the rail of the ship, wind cold on your cheeks, and wondered if you’d ever been seen for you—not her echo.

⸻

One morning, he stood beside you. Quiet. Not saying a word.

You didn’t turn.

“I remember her,” he said finally. “Every day. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t see you.”

You stayed still, unsure if it was comfort or cruelty to hear that.

Zoro’s voice was rough. “I saw how you always double-check the anchor chain before we dock. How you clean your blade like it’s a ritual. You hate lychee, love thunderstorms, and you always look out for Chopper when he’s scared. You stand with your weight slightly to the left when you’re lying. And when you’re angry, you chew your words like you’re afraid they’ll hurt.”

You swallowed hard.

“You were never a shadow,” he said. “You were vivid. And I—I was just too lost to hold you properly.”

A long silence stretched.

You breathed, voice soft. “I wish I’d been someone else.”

Zoro’s eyes lowered. “I wish I’d been someone better.”

You turned to face him for the first time in days. The space between you pulsed with the weight of everything you both had carried.

You turned to him, eyes rimmed with quiet hurt. “You said you see me now. But when I needed you to, you didn’t. And now… I don’t know what’s left to see.”

Zoro reached for a word, a gesture—anything—but nothing came.

You stepped back. “Maybe all we ever were was a glimpse of something that never had time to become.”

And then you walked away.

He didn’t stop you—not because he didn’t care, but because he finally understood.

Sometimes, love comes too late.

Why this moss head looks so mad 😭🙏🙏

Encouragement