Apology Birthday Party

RUN, RABBIT, RUN: Part 1

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Trafalgar Law x Reader Zombie Apocalypse AU

Part 1 of my @infixop gift for @namism!

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

WC: 4185

Masterlist Next ->

(A/N at the bottom)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did find something.” You mumble.

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

Then he sighs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That part is true.” Law says. 

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

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

“Logic.” Law says. 

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

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

Law nods. 

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

“Yes.” Law says.  

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

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

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

Your worries do not seem to deter anyone else. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

That is the first mistake. 

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

The second mistake is trusting Law’s confidence. 

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

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

“Holy shit.” You hear someone say. 

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

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

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

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

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

But you are a coward.

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

You need to survive. 

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

Bile burns up your throat as you swing. 

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

Shit!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s barely huffing. 

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

Then, he starts walking away. 

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

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

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

Law stops. 

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

some lore for anyone interested:

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

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

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

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

i wish ao3 allowed people to give kudos per each chapter. These 100k word NOVELS need more love than 200 tiny digital hearts ☹️

mon ster trio ~ !! kissing their scars.

warnings: a bit suggestive on zoro's.

masterlist and rules || have fun reading!

Monkey D. Luffy

He was lying on the deck.

Arms behind his head,

His shirt hiked up just enough to reveal the x-shaped scar on his chest.

You sat beside him,

Watching the way the sun caught his skin.

Without a word,

You leaned down and placed a soft kiss right on the center of the scar.

Luffy blinked.

“Huh? What was that for?”

You smiled.

“For being strong.”

He stared for a second…

Then grinned that big goofy smile.

“I didn’t even feel it! Do it again!”

You rolled your eyes and kissed it once more.

Just to see him laugh.

“Does it heal faster with kisses?”

he asked,

Clearly considering the science.

You giggled.

“Maybe.”

“Well then—”

He flopped dramatically onto your lap.

“Kiss the rest of me too! Just in case!”

Roronoa Zoro

He had his shirt off after training.

Sweat clinging to his body,

Swords resting by the wall.

You stepped behind him,

Fingers ghosting over the long scar down his chest.

Zoro flinched.

Not from pain,

But from surprise.

“…What are you doing?”

You didn’t answer.

Instead,

You leaned in and kissed the base of the scar.

Your lips lingering softly.

He tensed,

Silent.

Then..

“…That’s not gonna help me train, you know.”

You smirked.

“It’s not for training.”

When you kissed higher along the scar.

He caught your wrist gently.

“You’re gonna make me forget what I was doing.”

His voice was low and rough.

But he wasn't stopping you.

You kissed once more,

Mear his collarbone.

“…Too late,”

He muttered.

Vinsmoke Sanji

He was rolling his sleeves up,

Forearms bare,

Cigarette resting between his lips.

Your eyes fell on the old burn scars near his hands.

The ones he never talked about.

“Sanji?”

“Hm?”

Before he could react,

You brought one of his hands up and pressed a soft kiss to the scar.

Then another.

And another.

He froze.

The cigarette dropped.

“Mon dieu…”

You looked up,

Worried for a second.

“Too much?”

He cupped your face with his free hand,

Eyes a little glassy.

“No one’s ever… done that.”

You kissed the scar again gently.

“You deserve it.”

Sanji didn’t say anything.

He just pulled you in close.

And held you against his chest for a long, quiet moment.

And yes, his hands trembled just a little.

i always forget "fuck" is a bad word. it's like a brother to me

you may think it’s no big deal but every sweet interaction is actually the most important thing in the world. sooo. take that

suicide kings

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

Ripley: Oh that’s the mural from the void century

Franky: The wha-

i'll crawl home to you

trafalgar law x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb c/w: it's hozier so religious themes, reader is referred to as an 'angel' and a 'goddess'.

I've done terrible things in the past...

It was always an excuse, a justification, a way for Trafalgar Law to convince himself he deserved all the terrible things that happened to him. He was a man of solitude, preferring his own company to that of others, and if others wanted to stay beside him, it was their funeral.

It was the first thing he told you, in the back alley of a marketplace, his blank hands grasping bags of meat. He was young, in his late teens when he asked you to join his crew. You seemed like a critical addition to the Heart Pirates, your expertise and skills in an area he hadn't considered essential.

It was a whim, something he hadn't discussed with Bepo, Shachi, or Penguin, but Law wanted to make this call without their commentary. It felt right to ask you, like the strings of fate were pulling the air from his lungs and puppetting his lips.

It was briefly surprising when you agreed to join, despite his initial warning, and he felt his heart flip in a way it hadn't before. You never questioned him like you should have, but, when you're young and eager to leave your small island, any out is enticing.

All I care about is who you are in the present...

Trafalgar Law didn't know it at the time, but you'd nestled yourself beside his heart and vowed to remain there for eternity.

—

When the Navy had come looking for Trafalgar Law, famed pirate of the Worst Generation, there was no way he'd go down without a fight.

The Polar Tang is alive with chaos, the air thick with clouds of apprehension and charged by panic. The storm raging inside the submarine is nothing compared to the one occurring outside.

Law stands on the deck, his hand outstretched and the sea shrouded with his power. Three Navy ships surround his beloved Tang, but none had come close enough to harm it, and by extension, you.

Against his wishes, you loom in the doorway, the darkness of the entrance a veil. It doesn't take much for Law to notice your presence, and when his chest tightens and aches, he knows you're watching.

It used to alarm him that his blood-soaked hands didn't scare you, and now you watch with pride. His mind was a whirlwind of crippling anxiety and debilitating despair at the thought that his sins could imprison him, forbid him from worshipping you the way you deserve. But even if they did, he'd claw his way from hell to be beside you again.

"You're not meant to be here," He says lowly, gaze calculating. "Go back inside."

"You need help, more ships are coming from the south."

Law scoffs, his anger toward the Navy growing tenfold. The pulsing blue dome retracts and the floating Marine vessels fall into the sea, the men aboard flailing into the water. "Submerge."

You step aside as Law approaches, his footsteps are heavy against the metal. The Tang shutters once he pushes the door closed, and the familiar sensation of your stomach rising has your hands latching onto Law's forearm.

"You okay?" You whisper, voice soft. If Law didn't know any better he'd think you were an angel.

His piercing eyes assess you for injuries he knows you don't have and then he sighs. Law leans down, his lips a ghost over your own.

"Better now that you are."

You smile and press your mouth against his. Law swears he could get a toothache from kissing you.

"C'mon," You say, walking backwards and tugging him along with you. "Let me check you over."

Law used to struggle to grasp your need to ensure he wasn't hurt after he wounded so many. Good and evil weren't two opposites that he would have contemplated in the past, considering his upbringing, but when he laid his eyes on you, he questioned whether the two thrived separately or could co-exist.

Can good live with evil when good knows all that evil has done? When evil is everything that good opposes? Law thought himself as inherently evil, but with good like you love him like he was not, he wasn't sure he knew the meanings or cared anymore.

Nothing matters but you.

"You seem to be fine," You mumble, pulling the thermometer out from under his tongue. "No fever."

"I am fine. No symptoms of illness or any injuries."

"Just making sure."

"Baby, not even death could separate us. I'd crawl out of the cold, dark earth to be with you. No need to worry."

The corners of your lips tilt up, and Law rests his palms on your cheeks. His touch is firm, and the look in your eye absolves him of any crimes—like a judge and a goddess.

Your hands press over his, and the added pressure of his skin on yours does little to satiate your need for his touch. He's not going anywhere without you.

He says your name like a prayer, his voice low and raw. "I love you."

You kiss his palm, gaze locked on his. "Don't think I wouldn't do the same."

Law sighs, his heart clenching. "You're not going in the ground on your own."

You don't think too much about his omission for your own sanity. "I love you."

Now, it wasn't an excuse. The things Law did in the past, and still do to ensure the safety of you and his crew, are something you admire. There's never good without evil, and as much as Law believes he is the latter, he is half your soul, and it is nothing but good.