#OnePiece | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fandomfablesunleashed · 2 days ago

Text

Tangled lives: Chapter Six

Law x reader (she/her)

Chapter six of Tangled lives

Words (for this chapter): 2.5k

Notes: Comfort my beloved — let's enjoy it while it's here…

🫶 @chillerkiller @deputy-azor, @henritherogue, @theprincesss5, @hopelesslover06 🫶

The nightmare clung to you like a second skin, its shadows still whispering at the edges of your mind as you sat up in bed, gasping for breath. It was dark, save for the eerie reflection of streetlights filtering through the blinds, casting thin golden lines across the floor. Your pulse thudded heavily in your chest, a remnant of the terror that had gripped you moments ago.

You rubbed a shaky hand over your face, trying to will yourself back into reality. It wasn’t real. You told yourself this, but it didn’t help. The nightmare persisted, its claws digging into your thoughts. The silence of the apartment felt like a pressing weight, almost too heavy, as if the quiet was too much to bear.

You knew you wouldn’t sleep again tonight. Not like this.

With a sigh, you threw the covers off your legs and swung them over the side of the bed. Your feet touched the cool floor, the chill grounding you a little, though not enough to shake the tight knot of anxiety that twisted in your stomach. Maybe a glass of water would help. Something simple. Something that reminded you were here, in the present, and not trapped in whatever the hell your mind had concocted.

You stepped toward the door of your room. The apartment was still. The hum of the fridge was the only sound in the darkness, and the air felt thicker than it should have been. It wasn’t the first time you’d been up like this, but tonight was different. You could feel the heavy pull of the nightmare, persisting in the shadows of the apartment.

As you reached the kitchen, you froze in the doorway.

Law.

You hadn’t expected to find him there—certainly not this late at night. He was leaning against the counter, his hand resting on the table as he stared off into space. He didn’t seem startled by your entrance, though you had a feeling neither of you had anticipated this late-night meeting.

The soft glow of the kitchen lights cast long shadows, highlighting the exhaustion on his face. You had noticed long ago that he often seemed to have dark circles under his eyes, but at this ungodly hour, they looked even more pronounced.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just stood there, caught in a moment that felt strangely intimate.

Then, finally, his voice broke the quiet—lower than usual, almost hesitant.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

You nodded, your throat tight. You didn’t want to explain what had woken you up—how it had felt too real, too suffocating, how you couldn’t shake the feelings that still clung to you. So, you just kept it simple.

“Yeah,” you murmured, turning toward the sink to fill a glass with water. It was the most mundane thing you could think of, but it felt like the safest choice right now.

But just as you reached for the glass, Law set down his mug and quietly nudged it toward you. A fresh cup of tea, still steaming gently in the cool air of the room.

Your eyes darted to the cup, then back to him. “For me?” you asked, trying to comprehend what he was doing.

He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Yeah. Didn’t know you were coming out, but might as well take it. I haven't drunk from it yet.”

You stared at the cup, your fingers itching to take it, but your pride tugged at you. “I don’t want to take your tea.”

“It’s fine. The water should still be hot. I’m gonna make myself another mug. Drink. You look like you need it.”

You took the cup carefully, fingers brushing against his in the exchange. The contact was brief but warm, and it made something inside you shift like it was the first thing you’d felt since waking up.

“Thanks,” you muttered, trying to ignore how awful you must look for him to say something like that. Or how his tender gesture made you feel.

The steam from the tea swirled upwards, drifting into the cool air. You hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected him to be awake, hadn’t expected him to be the one offering you comfort in such a small, quiet, and yet meaningful way.

He moved to make himself another cup of tea.

You took a slow sip from the mug, the warmth of the tea spreading through you in sharp contrast to the chill that prevailed in your chest.

“You’re up late, too,” you spoke, needing to fill the silence.

He hummed in agreement, but didn’t elaborate. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the window, his eyes distant, like he was contemplating something far beyond the kitchen. “I don’t sleep much. Never really have,” he said, almost too casually.

“That’s not good, but probably a good thing for a doctor to have. I mean to be able to stay up when needed,” you mumbled, not even knowing if you were making any sense.

If you weren't, Law decided not to comment, focusing rather on drinking his tea.

“Nightmares?” he asked after a moment, hesitant, like he wasn’t quite sure if he should ask.

You hadn’t prepared to talk about this. You hadn’t planned to talk about anything. You just wanted to be left alone to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. But at that moment, with him standing there, calm and silent, you couldn’t ignore the small pull to say something.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “It was… it was bad. Felt real, you know?”

“Yeah,” Law replied quietly, almost like he understood more than he let on. There was something in his voice that made you look up at him again, searching for the usual smirk or sarcasm, but it wasn’t there.

You swallowed, uncertain whether you should continue or just let the moment pass. But the concern in his eyes caught you off guard, and something about it made you feel safe, in a way you weren’t used to. It wasn’t like his usual cool demeanor, the one that had a protective wall around it. This was different—tender, almost.

You shifted your weight, setting the mug down on the counter, as you avoided looking directly at him. You hadn’t been expecting this. You weren’t sure you wanted it. But here he was, offering this strange sense of understanding without any words needing to be said.

“Do you get them often?” you asked quietly, your voice almost swallowed by the silence.

Law didn’t answer immediately. His eyes drifted down to the countertop, his thumb rubbing absent-mindedly against the ceramic of his mug. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind.

“Sometimes,” he finally said. There was no bravado, no attempt to brush it off. It was raw. Vulnerable. “But I don’t talk about them.”

You didn’t push him for details. You didn’t have to. The way he said it made it clear that whatever nightmares haunted him, he preferred to keep them locked away. You wondered briefly if that was why he stayed up so late, as though keeping himself busy was easier than confronting whatever demons lurked in his mind.

“Yeah, well… I don’t usually talk about mine either,” you admitted, feeling a strange sense of solidarity between you, something deeper than the casual roommate or friend interactions you were both used to.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice, though quiet, was sincere. There was no pushing, no pressure. Just an open question.

For a second, you wavered. The instinct was there to just shake your head, withdraw into your own space, and leave it all behind. But something about the way he stood there, so steady, so collected, made you rethink it. He wasn’t asking for details. He wasn’t demanding anything from you.

Instead, you found yourself exhaling a long breath, and the words came, unbidden. “I don’t know. It was just… it felt like I was suffocating. Like I couldn’t get away. Everything was so real—too real. I could feel it. I was trapped, and I… I couldn’t get out.”

Your voice cracked at the end, and you immediately felt a flush of embarrassment, a burning feeling creeping up your neck. But instead of retreating, you held his gaze. He was looking at you with something that wasn’t pity but understanding.

“You don’t have to explain it if you don’t want to,” he said after a long beat. There was no judgment in his tone, just that same warmth from before. It was almost like he was giving you permission to feel whatever it was you had been holding back.

You wanted to laugh—bitterly, maybe. The idea that you needed permission to have a nightmare felt absurd, but the truth was that the feeling of being understood was something you didn’t get to experience often.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I don��t know why I’m telling you all of this. It’s dumb.”

Law shook his head, his expression softening even more. “It’s not dumb.”

Was he saying… he was listening? Actually listening? The thought felt foreign, even though you’d spent months under the same roof. You hadn’t realized how much you craved someone just being there, not pushing you or pretending that everything was fine. Just, being.

Before you could respond, he gave a half-smile—small, almost imperceptible, but it was there. “I’m not exactly a professional at these things. But if it helps, I’ll sit here while you drink your tea. No need to pretend you’re fine.”

His offer was simple, but it was enough. You were surprised at how much it meant.

“Thanks,” you said again, your voice quieter than before, unsure how to handle the sudden shift.

The silence stretched on for a while, comfortable in its own way. You didn’t feel the need to rush through it, didn’t feel the need to fill it with words that might shatter the fragile calm you had somehow found. Law stayed where he was, not prying, just there.

And for the first time that night, the rawness of your thoughts didn’t feel so unbearable. The nightmare no longer seemed so oppressive. For once, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter. It was probably the tea, or maybe the fact that you weren’t alone at this moment. Whatever it was, you found the courage to ask.

“Can you distract me?”

He definitely did not expect such a question. “Distract you? How?”

“Just talk about something… like your tattoos,” you suggested.

He seemed a little taken aback. “You want to talk about my tattoos?”

“Well, yeah. I’m curious,” you admitted. His tattoos intrigued you from the start, and with the revelation that there was more than you’d expected at the beginning, you found yourself frequently fighting the urge to ask. Maybe, in this strange little bubble you’d established, in the stillness of the night, your curiosity would finally be satisfied.

He seemed to waver for a moment, before agreeing.

“Fine… the one on my fingers,” he said, lifting his hands to show you. His tattoos spelled out D-E-A-T-H, each letter etched deep into his skin. “It’s just a reminder. Life is fragile. And as a surgeon, I can save lives, but not always. Death is part of this job as well as part of life…” His voice trailed off, and for a moment, he seemed to get lost in his thoughts, eyes distant as though reflecting on something long buried. After a brief pause, he shook his head slightly, as if snapping himself out of it. “Also, I might have been young and edgy when I got them”

“Aren’t you still edgy?” you teased.

He shot you a sideways glance, deadpan. “Says the person who willingly hangs out with me.”

You smiled, shrugging nonchalantly. “Touché.”

“Anyway… the hearts” he continued, his gaze shifting away. “They’re because of someone I was close to,” he added, his words vague but heavy, and you could sense he would rather not say more. You respected that.

Instead, you shifted the topic gently. “What about the one on your back?” you asked, prodding him for more information.

To your surprise, he blushed a little. “It’s not important,” he muttered.

Now you were even more curious. “Oh, come on, tell me!” you insisted, nudging him lightly. “I won’t let it go. Pleeease,” you put on the cutest expression you could master.

He sighed, and finally spoke, albeit reluctantly. “Remember how Bepo called me Captain?”

“Of course,” you replied, a chuckle escaping. That was not something you intended to forget.

He mumbled something under his breath, and despite it being silent in the kitchen, you did not hear a single word.

“What?”

He signed. Deeply. Then repeated himself, looking like he already regretted speaking about that. “It's what we used as a Jolly Roger.”

You were unable to suppress your grin. That was totally unexpected and beyond adorable.

“That’s so cute,” you remarked before you could stop yourself.

“It’s not,” his face flushed with an undeniable blush once more, the color creeping up to his ears. Now that might just be even more precious. The sight of him, flustered and trying to downplay it, only made him seem even more endearing.

“It is! And there’s nothing wrong with that,” you countered, leaning forward a little, cradling your cup of tea in your hands as you watched him.

He paused, his eyes wandering to the window for a moment, staring into the darkness outside. “It just reminds me of my friends, I guess,”

That hit you in a way you didn’t expect—warmth spread in your chest at the vulnerability he was showing. You smiled, the corners of your lips curving without thought. And to think, once upon a time, you had written him off as an incredibly sketchy individual. A mystery wrapped in sharp edges and wary glances.

“Still leaves a few more,” you inquired, eager to know more.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “The rest? Just for fun.”

You laughed, leaning back slightly in your chair as you took a long sip from your tea. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

Then, your eyes met, and everything seemed to pause. For a second, it was like the whole world was holding its breath. You could feel the weight of something unspoken between you, a connection you weren’t sure you wanted to name but couldn’t deny anymore.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, the words slipping out without thought. It felt like a release, something you needed to say.

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, though his tone was gentler than usual.

But you already knew. Knew that despite his best efforts, despite the walls he kept around himself, you had made at least a small crack in them. He let you in more than he realized, more than he probably wanted to.

And as you studied him, the way he avoided your gaze just a little too late, the way his fingers tensed a bit before relaxing again, you couldn’t help but wonder—was there a way to break through completely? To reach not just past his defenses, but all the way into his heart?

#onepiece #one piece fic #trafalgar law #trafalgar law fic #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar op #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar law x you #tangledlives

47 notes · View notes