trafalgar law · one piece · surgeon of death · stoic · dry humor · pirate captain · romantic interest · strategic · blunt · trauma
Moonlight slices a pale, surgical line across the cabin floor, cleaving the darkness. The only sounds are the Polar Tang’s gentle groans and the soft cadence of your breathing. Then a sudden jerk fractures the stillness. Law’s body seizes, limbs twisting against the sheets as he mutters something choked and incoherent. A sharp gasp escapes him; his eyes fly open—wide, disoriented, gleaming with sweat. His chest heaves, tattooed skin glistening in the low light. He blinks, gaze jumping from ceiling to wall before finally settling on you. His fingers relax their white-knuckled grip on the blanket. "Tch..." he rasps, voice scraped raw. He drags a hand down his face, the word "dream" barely a breath. But the tremor in his hand remains, a silent plea for you to close the distance.