One Piece One Shots

A Hundred Hearts [Law x Reader]

Your eyes travelled to the pitch black night sky outside the window. Despite the calmness oozing from every corner of the room, you couldn't help the excruciating feeling of anxiety running through your veins.

Law moved in bed behind you, and the arm carefully placed over your waist dangled against your skin. Usually, you would feel more than relieved to have the surgeon there with you, to be able to enjoy a quiet moment with him, but recent events had brought with them that sensation you couldn't unstuck from your mind.... In that moment you felt somewhat caged against the mattress and the soft pillow.

You had done stuff that you weren't proud of, that you regretted more than you'd ever admit, but never in a million years would you have imagined that you'd see someone delivering a hundred hearts to obtain a title. You didn't know how to feel about that. Law had taken the time to explain the reasons behind his actions, and you understood them, you really did, but that didn't mean you could shake that heavy feeling off your shoulders. It just wasn't that simple.

'Understandable' didn't mean 'right'.

Law pressed his hand against your skin, bringing your body closer, and you tried your best to ignore the tightening knot in your guts. You wanted to forget about it, to let it all go so you could enjoy his company, yet you couldn't help but to tense up when his lips brushed against the shell of your ear and his husky voice almost echoed in the silent room.

He had noticed the change in your behaviour, had been playing dumb for the sake of pretending everything was fine, but it was becoming pretty apparent that your mood was worsening by the minute, and he had lived through enough turmoil to know it was best to talk those things out before it was too late. Before someone got hurt.

"What's wrong?" he questioned.

Your heartbeat drummed in your ears. One, two, three, four... you lost count of the thuds.

"Nothing," you replied, in hopes he would believe you, that you yourself would believe it.

There was a pause, a brief moment in which it would have seemed time had stopped hadn't it been for your racing heart pounding in your chest. The surgeon remained silent, but his fingers crept up on your body, and you sucked in a halting breath out of reflex —a subtle reaction, but one he took in, and one that brought the heads of his eyebrows down into a frown.

"Have I done something to bother you?" he asked, concern filling his once monotone voice.

You were ready to spit out a negative, but the tension in your muscles eased out as his hand retreated to the curve of your waist before finally abandoning your body, so you decided to actually stop to think about it. Because that visceral reaction meant something, even if you were not willing to come to terms with it.

At the end of the day it was a matter of you not knowing how to bring the subject up.