helping an anxious partner (Law)
masc reader, he/they law, hurt/comfort
word count: 0.7k
[ You spook, scare, and tear up easily, how do they deal with it . . . ? ]
They’d seemingly have little patience for it in the beginning, passing you off to someone else on his crew whenever flares of overwhelmed emotion started to swirl in your eyes. He’d always get Bepo or someone else to comfort you in their place, but that was only because Law themself didn’t know how to handle it and the last thing he wanted to do was mess up while you were having a moment of vulnerability.
Honestly, you can’t really pinpoint what drew Law to you in the first place, all things considered - you didn’t fit conventional standards of ‘masculinity’, were hardly much of a fighter, and frankly, thought your bursts of emotion annoyed them.
Yet what you didn’t see was how Law saw you interacting with the crew, the sparks of light you brought into a room and igniting the conversation without really meaning too, drawing others into your warmth as well. Law’s high perception also meant that they easily picked up on your habits, however, especially when you started spending more time around them the closer you got - how you’d flinch at a hand on your shoulder, how upset you seemed at loud knocks on the door, and most of all how easily you’d scare at other people suddenly entering your personal space.
They were determined to let this go, everyone had their stories and if you felt it important enough to talk to him about it he’d listen, but otherwise Law wouldn’t push you for an answer.
It all came to ahead when you dropped and shattered a plate meant to be put away after dinner, an expression of almost terror washed over your face while you leant down to pick up the broken pieces, continuously apologizing the entire way through.
Your captain would take hold of your wrists, Law appearing blurry as tears clouded your vision and too many thoughts fill your head to hear what they or anyone else around you say.
Next thing you know, you’re in the medical wing, Law dabs at the small cuts on your hands with antiseptic and makes sure with a trained doctor’s eye that no shards remain - when they’re done, he gives you a once over then slowly, hesitantly pulls your head against his chest.
It’s not until you lean back that he allows himself to relax, too; Law apologizes for not being a more attentive partner, your brows furrow, you tell them that there was no way they could’ve helped if you hadn’t told them anything to begin with. He’s make a face at that, pressing gentle kisses to the crown of your head.
Still, they’d say, you’d deserve better at least that much more as his boyfriend.
Law doesn’t ask, but you slowly begin to explain the reasoning behind some of your habits, the sharp gaze on you from afar for the past few weeks not going unnoticed, either. Years of having your boundaries crossed and personal space disrespected, any small mishap nitpicked and god forbid you do mess up or try to stand your ground; being met with ridicule and criticism from every angle.
All of this culminated in the behaviors you exhibited today - keeping your head down and mostly out of other’s way, shrinking your presence even though you would love to engage more with your peers because you were afraid to take up space and, fuck, any and all mistakes you made felt like the end of the world so you did your damnest to avoid any of that happening.
Law’s expression is drawn into a scowl when you look up at them upon finishing, reflexively apologizing for bringing down the mood and immediately trying to brush it off as something unworthy of his time, but Law would only look at you, almost appearing pained, as your smile falters and you feel the pinpricks in the corners of your eyes again.
“I’m sorry, __, but I’m here for you now.”
They pull your head into the crook of his neck, your bandaged hands sear as your fists clench, but it’s all washed away when the stream of emotion spills onto Law’s shirt, now being truly and wholly open in your feelings with them as the doctor holds you tight through every shake of your shoulders silent cry that rattles through your chest.
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