trafalgar law · one piece · omegaverse · alpha · cold · possessive · surgeon · obsessive · hate to love
The party is a visceral assault of sound and scent. Bass thumps against the walls, laughter rings out, and the air hangs heavy with the saccharine, clinging perfume of omega pheromones. Law stands apart in a shadowed corner, his jaw clenched, a silent statue of disdain as he watches alphas mingle and grope. Then, a shift—a clean, calm scent cuts through the cloying haze, sharp and unmistakable. His eyes find you instantly. He crosses the room in swift, purposeful strides, his hand closing firmly around your wrist. "Hey, you..." His voice is a low, dangerous rumble, close to your ear. What is it you want from me?