Isla

Before you could protest, he rose, pulling you up with him as if you weighed nothing. In one smooth motion he swept you into his arms, carrying you back inside the main house. The servants bowed and vanished around corners. they had long grown used to their lord’s open affection.

...

the elders were already gathered. You moved to serve tea, old habit, but Satoru’s hand caught yours.

“Sit” he said simply, guiding you to the cushion beside his own.

The elders’ eyes widened when he asked them to pour thier own tea. One elder, an old man with a face like weathered stone, cleared his throat.

“You should not be idle, daughter” Elder Haruto intoned, sipping his tea while his gaze flicked disapprovingly to the way Satoru lounged nearby, one hand resting possessively on your knee. “The floors must be polished. The lord’s footwear cleaned and set properly. A wife’s hands are never still, child or no.”

“Her hands will rest when I say they rest.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “If the floors need polishing, the servants will handle it. As for my geta—” He glanced at the wooden sandals by the door, the ones you had never been allowed to touch, even before you were pregnant, “—I never let her near them. Why would I start now?”

“My lord… the lady is perfectly capable of light duties, tradi—”

“Tradition? now observing education for higher students is enough work for her.” Satoru cut in, voice pleasant yet edged with Infinity’s chill, “She worked herself to exhaustion at home before I wed her. I will not allow it now.” He glanced at you, eyes warm. “Besides… I like doing things for her.”

You stared at him again, long, unblinking.

The elder looked displeased, but said nothing more.

...

It happened on the third afternoon of his absence. The sky hung heavy with late spring clouds, and the air inside the main hall smelled of aged wood and incense. You were kneeling by the low table, arranging fresh white camellias and pine branches, when elder Haruto and two others entered without announcement.

“Daughter in law of the Gojo house” Haruto began, his voice like dry leaves scraping stone. His gaze flicked to your middle with clear disdain.

“Carrying the heir does not exempt you from your duties. It is a wife’s role to maintain the household’s dignity. Do not think your condition makes you special.”

Tradition bound you, as a non sorcerer brought into the clan through marriage, your place was one of service and quiet strength. Defiance against the elders could ripple through the entire household.

“But… my husband said—”

“His indulgence is temporary,” another elder cut in sharply. “The child is not yet born. Clean them, thoroughly.”

A servant boy hovered anxiously nearby, eyes wide with worry, but he dared not intervene.

...

The sliding shoji screens of the estate did not merely open, they rattled on their wooden tracks, vibrating with the sheer force of the cursed energy bleeding off Satoru as he stepped into the main pavilion.

The air in the compound always grew heavier when the clan head returned, but tonight, it felt suffocating. It tasted of ozone and impending lightning.

You were already asleep in the main room, exhausted from a day that had fractured your spirit far more than your body. Beneath the heavy, silk futon, your hand rested protectively over the slight swell of your belly, a few months along, still delicate, a fragile miracle you and Satoru had wept over in the privacy of your quarters.

Satoru shed his haori, his six eyes instantly cataloging the state of the house. He had been gone for three days on an emergency deployment in the north. Three days too long.

"Gojo sama."

A small, breathless voice broke the silence of the corridor. It was a servant boy whose family had served Satoru’s personal branch for generations. The boy was with some information.

Satoru paused.

"Tatsuya" he murmured, his voice deceptively low. "Why are you still up? And why does the courtyard smell like damp earth?"

Tatsuya swallowed hard, looking toward the closed doors of your bedroom before continuing. "While you were away... the council of elders called upon the lady."

Satoru’s posture didn't change, but the ambient temperature seemed to drop. "Did they?"

"They... they claimed she was becoming arrogant. They said a housewife of the Gojo clan must know her place, less she 'grow into her mind' and believe herself above the bloodline." Tatsuya’s voice hitched. "They dragged her to the northern wash-basin. They forced her to clean the clan’s formal geta and zori. With the well water."

The silence that followed was absolute. Not even the crickets in the garden dared to make a sound.

"They forced her?" Satoru repeated. The words were quiet, but they carried the weight of a collapsing star.

"She refused at first, reminding them of her condition," Tatsuya whispered, tears leaking onto the floorboards. "But Elder Ogi... he grabbed her arm. He forced her down to her knees on the stone path. She tripped. Her knee... her knee was scraped. She spent three hours in the cold, scrubbing their filth. She asked them to let her rest, but they told her she needed to be 'disciplined'."

Satoru didn't say another word, nor did he storm off. He simply vanished from the hallway, leaving behind a draft of freezing air.

In the dimly lit inner sanctuary of the estate, three of the clan’s oldest elders sat around a low table, sipping roasted green tea. They were discussing the upcoming seasonal rituals, completely self assured in their ancient, stagnant authority.

The heavy oak doors of the sanctuary didn't just open, they shattered inward, exploding into wooden splinters that embedded themselves into the priceless hanging scrolls on the walls.

The elders scrambled backward, but before they could even draw a breath to protest, Satoru was there.

He didn't use Limitless to crush them from afar. This required the brutal, visceral reality of his bare hands.

"What" he begins, voice deceptively soft, "in the name of all the ancestors, possessed you to order my pregnant wife to wash filth?"

"Satoru! What is the meaning of—"

Ogi, the eldest among them, didn't get to finish his sentence. Satoru lunged forward, his movement a blur of lethal grace. He grabbed Ogi’s right wrist and twisted.

A sickening, wet pop echoed through the room as the bones in Ogi's wrist shattered under Satoru's grip. The old man screamed, a high, reedy sound of pure agony, as Satoru slammed him face first onto the tatami mats.

"You touched her" Satoru whispered. The sound of his voice was worse than any shout. It was dead. Completely devoid of the playful sorcerer they thought they could manage.

Satoru brought his heavy, geta down directly onto Ogi’s outstretched hand, grinding his heel into the old man's knuckles. The sound of fracturing finger bones filled the room. Ogi choked on his own vomit, pinning himself to the floor under the immense, crushing weight of Satoru’s physical strength.

"Satoru! Step back! This is a violation of clan law! She is a woman! She must be disciplined to understand the weight of the Gojo name!" another elder shrieked, his hands shaking as he tried to form a cursed technique sign.

Satoru turned his head, his brilliant blue eyes glowing with a terrifying, unhinged light in the shadows. He had never been this angry in his entire life.

"Disciplined?" Satoru's voice rose, vibrating with a rage that made the very foundations of the estate groan. "You dynamic pieces of garbage. You dare talk about discipline to me? About my wife?"

He stepped off Ogi, leaving the old man weeping into the ruined tatami, and advanced on the second elder.

"I don't let her touch a single piece of anything when she is perfectly healthy" Satoru snarled, the raw emotion finally breaking through his terrifying calm.

"the servants wash my damn boots. I carry her across the courtyard when the gravel is too sharp. And you... you useless, disgusting, vile, rotting fossils... you dragged my pregnant woman out into the cold? To scrub your filth? Her knee bleeds because of your exclusive skill of not using a brain"

He grabbed the second elder by the front of his expensive silk kimono, lifting the grown man entirely off the ground with one hand.

"She is the future of this entire fucking world, and you risked her safety—you risked my child—because your fragile, pathetic egos were threatened by her existence?!" Satoru roared, his voice shaking the roof tiles.

"She will think she's the best of all? She is the best of all! She is mine! Which makes her untouchable to the likes of you!"

He threw the elder across the room, smashing him into a heavy wooden cabinet that collapsed under the impact.

"Satoru... the--the hierarchy... her place-" the third elder stammered, backing into the corner, clutching his prayer beads as if they could save him from a god.

“Her place?” The air crackled. “Her place is to be cherished. To be protected. I have torn apart special grade curses with less effort than it takes me to tolerate your outdated nonsense. You dare speak to my wife as if she is a common servant? As if the life she nurtures is insignificant?”

Satoru stood in the center of the ruined room, his breathing heavy, his chest heaving under his clothes. The sheer pressure of his cursed energy was cracking the plaster on the walls. He looked down at them with a disgust so profound it was sickening.

"Listen to me very carefully" Satoru said, his voice dropping back to a lethal, quiet hiss. "Tradition dies when it threatens what is mine."

 "I have never asked her to perform such tasks. Not once. Not before she carried my child, and certainly not now. Do you have any idea what pregnancy entails? The strain? The risk? My wife is not a servant. She is the heart of this clan. She carries the future."

His voice rises, never before this uncontrolled. "You forced her to kneel by a basin while I was away securing this clan's power? While she should be resting, being cared for? If any of you so much as suggest she lift a finger for menial labor again, I will personally ensure your retirement is... permanent. and I will remind you exactly why I am the clan head. Not because of bloodlines or dusty customs. Because I am the strongest. And I will not hesitate to make examples.”

He stepped closer, his shadow engulfing the final elder, deciding it was enough.

"Get out. All of you. Pack your robes, your tea sets, and your useless books, and fuck yourselves out of my estate before the sun rises. If I see a single one of your faces within the clan boundaries tomorrow morning, I won't just break your hands. I will erase your entire branches from the registry. Try me. See if the jujutsu authorities can stop me."

None of them doubted him. The strongest sorcerer in the world was standing before them, completely unhinged. They nodded frantically, Ogi clutching his ruined arm as they dragged themselves out of the room, terrified for their very lives, knowing the strongest's word was law, and his wrath absolute.

The slide of the shoji screen was a mere sigh in the quiet night, a soft friction of wood on wood. The moment Satoru crossed the threshold into the master bedroom, the terrifying, static heavy aura of his rage dissolved entirely, locked away behind the absolute precision of his control. He didn't want even a stray spark of his cursed energy to disrupt your sleep.

The room smelled of sweet tatami, dried lavender, and the faint, bitter tang of the medicinal salve Tatsuya had helped you apply.

Satoru shed his socks, his bare feet sinking into the woven mats as he approached the futon with agonizing care. He knelt beside you, the sheer size of his frame casting a protective shadow over your sleeping form. Without his blindfold, his six eyes tracked every rhythm of your breathing, noting the slight, tense line between your brows even in slumber.

You stirred, your senses waking up before your eyes did. The air in the room suddenly grew warmer, sweeter, thick with the distinct, dizzying scent of him.

"Satoru...?" you mumbled, your voice heavy and thick with sleep. You began to shift, your palms pressing into the futon to push yourself up, but a large, impossibly warm hand slid over your shoulder, gently anchoring you down.

"Shh... stay down, hime" he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly rasp against the quiet of the room. "Don't get up for me. Never get up for me."

He slid under the heavy silk duvet, but he didn't pull you into his arms just yet. Instead, he worked his way down to the foot of the futon. His touch was feather light as he peeled back the edge of the blanket, exposing your bare legs to the cool night air.

Your heart pinched, a sudden flush of anxiety warming your cheeks. You remembered the heavy, frozen stone of the northern wash basin, the harsh, disapproving glares of the elders, the way the coarse bristles of the brush had scraped against your skin. You had desperately wanted to hide it from him, to spare him the headache of clan politics when he already carried the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.

But Satoru was already staring at your right knee. The neat, white bandage Tatsuya had carefully wrapped was stark against your skin.

A tiny, involuntary tremor ran through Satoru’s hands. The very fingers that had just shattered bones and ground old men's knuckles into dust were now trembling with a terrifying fragility as he slid his palms beneath your calf, lifting your leg just an inch to cradle it against his chest.

He leaned down, his silver hair spilling over your skin like silk. He didn't just look, he pressed his lips gently against the side of your knee, just beside the gauze, kissing the uninjured skin with a soft, lingering reverence. Then, his lips tracked a slow, agonizingly tender path up your thigh, his breath hot against your skin.

"I'm sorry" he murmured, his forehead resting against your thigh as his voice cracked, raw and bleeding with a guilt he couldn't hide. "I'm so sorry I left you alone. I'm so sorry I wasn't here, sweetness."

The sheer vulnerability in his tone made your throat tight. You reached down, your fingers weaving into the thick, ridiculously soft tufts of his white hair, gently tugging until he shifted upward. He crawled back up the length of your body, sliding his frame beneath the covers until he was flush against you.

"It's okay" you whispered, your thumb catching a stray tear that threatened to spill from the corner of his brilliant, crystalline eyes. "It's just a little scrape, Satoru. Truly. They... they just wanted me to learn the household duties. They said it was tradition for the women of the house. I just didn't want to cause trouble for you."

Satoru let out a ragged, shaky breath that stuttered against your collarbone. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his nose scenting your skin, inhaling you as if he were a starving man. His lips pressed a frantic, hot sequence of kisses along your jaw, up to your cheek, and finally against your lips, a soft, bruising, desperate kiss that tasted of a possessiveness so deep it bordered on worship.

His large hands slid down your back, molding your spine to his chest, before one palm found its permanent home, flat and warm against the slight, delicate swell of your belly. His fingers splayed wide over your abdomen, a protective shield of flesh and boundless power.

"You don't have duties to anyone but yourself" Satoru swore against your lips, his chest heaving as his heart thudded rapidly, a frantic, wild rhythm against your own ribs. He pulled you so close you could barely tell where your body ended and his began. "You are the lady of this house. My lady. You don't bow to anyone, you don't clean for anyone, and you don't break yourself for their rotting ideas of tradition."

He kissed the crown of your head, his hand on your stomach gently rubbing in tiny, soothing circles, his thumb caressing the soft fabric of your sleepwear.

"Let them talk. Let them rot" he whispered, his voice turning dark for a fraction of a second before softening as he pressed another kiss to your eyelid. "You just stay safe. Stay soft and warm right here. Let me handle the rest. Please, hime... just stay safe for me."

You smiled softly in the dark, your senses clouded by his immense, radiating warmth and the intoxicating rhythm of his breathing. You let your eyes close, completely melting into him, entirely unaware of the bloodied, broken elders currently packing their things in the dead of night, fleeing the estate in absolute terror.

You didn't need to know. As Satoru tightened his arms around you, pulling the duvet up to your chins and burying his face back into your hair, he held you like you were the only piece of reality that mattered in the universe.

He crossed the threshold, adjusting the strap of the duffel bag over his right shoulder. Inside, he carried barely anything… just a couple of worn-out changes of clothes and the exact same shoes he’d been wearing the day he was locked up. The crisp street air hit his face, thick with the scent of damp earth and a newfound freedom that, instead of providing relief, brought on a strange wave of vertigo.

Cooperating with the police to dismantle Gil-soo’s illegal loan-sharking and extortion ring had successfully knocked his sentence down to just a few months, but the price of admission back into the real world was absolute emptiness. He knew no one was waiting for him. His cousin Yeong-bin… his last remaining family tie and the sole reason he had dragged himself into that high school living hell in the first place, hadnt even bothered to answer his calls, let alone show his face at the detention center.

Seok-dae was entirely on his own... or so he thought.

As he looked up to cross the avenue, he saw you. You were standing right by the subway exit, hands buried deep inside your jacket pockets and your shoulders hunched against the biting wind. You hadn't moved from that exact spot for the last hour. The moment his dark eyes locked onto yours, you took a step forward, instantly closing the distance between you.

Seok-dae stopped dead in his tracks on the sidewalk. His brow furrowed slightly and his jaw clenched, purely out of instinct, adopting the hardened mask he always used as a shield against the world. Yet, the rapid blink of his eyes betrayed his utter bewilderment.

"Hey, Seok-dae" your voice sounded a little cracked, your throat dry from the cold. "Do you have somewhere to go?" you asked immediately.

Seok-dae cast his gaze down toward his scuffed shoes, shifting the duffel bag on his shoulder with a sudden movement. An uncomfortable silence stretched on for a few seconds, broken only by the roar of cars speeding past.

"No" he finally muttered. "I don't."

You nodded, taking in his words without a shred of judgment. Stepping even closer, you closed the physical gap entirely, letting him feel the grounding warmth of your presence.

"Then come with me" you said, offering a small smile meant to be comforting, even as nerves tightly coiled in your stomach. "Let's go to my place."

Seok-dae arched an eyebrow, staring down at you with a mix of distrust and surprise. He knew exactly how chaotic your family life had been before everything went up in flames with Gil-soo. He remembered the shouting matches you used to endure over the phone and the nights you spent crying in the corners of the hideout because your own parents made you feel like a burden over their financial ruin.

"Did you patch things up with your family?" he asked.

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips and you averted your eyes for a split second before looking him dead in the face again. You shook your head resolutely.

"No, not at all... I don't talk to them anymore" you replied, stretching out a hand to vaguely indicate the direction you needed to head in. "Come on, it's getting late."

Seok-dae didn't push any further. He simply fell into step beside you, matching his long strides to your slower pace. You began walking together, leaving the detention center behind as you melted into the city's crowded streets.

The hustle and bustle of the people around you quickly faded into background noise, replaced by a comfortable silence between the two of you. Walking beside his broad shoulders, catching fleeting glimpses of his scarred knuckles and simply feeling his heavy presence allowed you to completely tune out the rest of the world. Seeing him walking free, outside the drab gray walls where you had visited him over the last few months, triggered a sudden flood of memories.

You vividly remembered the night you met him.

You had fallen into a bottomless pit, backed into a corner by family debts that were impossible to pay off and that bastard Gil-soo had cornered you in an alleyway.

You could still feel the paralyzing terror of that night, the musty stench of the alley and the sadism in that criminal's smile when he clamped his hand around your arm and threatened you.

"You're gonna have to start working for me if you want to square what you owe" he’d sneered. With absolute contempt, he shoved you forward, sending you crashing to the ground right at Seok-dae’s feet. "He's taking charge of you from here on out" Gil-soo barked before vanishing into the night.

The first time you looked up and saw him… with his imposing frame, his face bruised from street fights and that cold stare, you were absolutely petrified. You genuinely thought you had been handed over to a monster who would hurt you the second you messed up, someone who would beat you if you couldn't secure the cash or if you showed a single shred of weakness.

But you were wrong... completely wrong. You quickly realized that beneath that ruthless thug exterior was just someone trapped by his circumstances. No one in your entire life had ever looked out for you the way Seok-dae did in that criminal underworld. He would physically put himself between you and Gil-soo whenever the boss was in a foul mood, he intentionally redirected the most dangerous assignments to other gang members just to keep you safe and he always made sure to slip some food into your backpack when days went by without seeing a clean dime.

Seok-dae had been your only shield in that living hell.

"I managed to get a job at a restaurant and rent an apartment" you blurted out suddenly, feeling your cheeks instantly burn with the confession. You desperately didn't want him to misinterpret your words or think you were taking on a responsibility that wasn't yours to bear. "It's... it's a really small place, honestly. But you can stay there until you find something better."

Seok-dae turned his head to look at you out of the corner of his eye. His expression remained unreadable, but his dark eyes seemed to soften ever so slightly. He gripped his bag a little tighter against his side, absorbing the weight of what you were offering him: a roof over his head, hot food and, above all, a sense of dignity that the outside world fiercely denied him.

"Okay" he nodded softly. "Thank you."

You kept walking toward the subway station. Attempting to break the lingering tension and get the conversation flowing like old times, you decided to ask a question that had been rattling around your brain for weeks, even though you knew you were treading on incredibly thin ice.

"How... how were things in there?" you asked, glancing at him cautiously. "They didn't give us much time together during visiting hours these past few weeks. Were your days in prison really brutal?"

Seok-dae stiffened instantly. His entire posture turned rigid as he locked his gaze onto the storefronts you were passing, looking absolutely anywhere but at you. Recalling the confinement, the constant brawls with inmates who knew his track record and the degrading treatment from the guards was something he wanted to bury six feet under forever.

"Yeah, they were rough" he cut you off, his tone flat and dry. "But I don't want to talk about that right now. It's in the past."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked" you said quickly, immediately regretting breaking the fragile peace you'd built.

Unexpectedly, Seok-dae came to a sudden halt right before the entrance to the subway stairs. He planted himself directly in front of you, forcing you to stop as well, completely blocking the flow of commuters who grumbled under their breath as they dodged around you. He ignored the crowd entirely. He stared straight into your eyes, completely stripping away the tough-guy facade he always wore.

"Don't apologize" he said, his voice dropping into an unusually gentle register. "Thank you for coming to visit me. You were the only one who ever showed up. The only one who was actually there for me when nobody else gave a shit. Everyone else... they all vanished."

A suffocating lump formed in your throat as you heard the profound, echoing isolation in his words. You couldnt stop yourself from taking a step forward, completely erasing the space between you.

"You don't have to thank me for that, Seok-dae" you replied, feeling your eyes grow hot and watery. "You were there for me during my darkest moments, too. You saved me when I was completely lost. If I'm standing here today, with a job and a roof over my head, it's because you gave me the strength to keep fighting. This is the absolute least I can do."

You weren't entirely sure who broke the final barrier, but in the next fraction of a second, you lunged forward and threw your arms tightly around his waist. Your face buried itself right into his chest, inhaling the scent of clean laundry mixed with the brisk street chill radiating from his jacket.

Seok-dae froze solid for a moment, as if his body had entirely forgotten what human contact felt like when it didn't involve violence. But the hesitation lasted only a heartbeat. Almost instantly, his big arms wrapped securely around your back, crushing you against his chest with an intense strength… he needed to hold onto you just to convince himself that he was actually and truly free. He buried his face into your shoulder, letting out a long and heavy sigh.

The embrace lasted for what felt like an eternity, both of you completely oblivious to the river of strangers flowing past. It was a silent pact of mutual survival, a quiet confirmation that you still had each other.

When you finally pulled apart, Seok-dae’s ears were dusted a light shade of red, but he didn't avert his gaze. You walked down the subway stairs together in silence… a silence that, this time, felt incredibly warm.

The train ride took you to a neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, an area defined by steep, sloping streets and weathered brick buildings. Arriving at the apartment, you navigated up a narrow, cramped stairwell that smelled faintly of damp wood. When you unlocked the door, you stepped aside to let him in.

The place was exactly as you had described it: tiny. It consisted of a single compact room that served as both the kitchen and the living space, featuring a worn-out sofa pushed against the window, a single door leading to your bedroom, and another to the bathroom.

"We're here" you said, slipping off your shoes at the entryway. "It's not much, but it's clean."

Seok-dae stepped inside carefully, looking impossibly massive in such a confined space. He set his duffel bag on the floor next to the couch and glanced around with a quiet timidity.

"It's fine. It's perfect" he murmured, taking in the small touches: a plant on the windowsill, a couple of books neatly stacked on the table, the pristine floor. To someone who had spent the last several months in a cramped, shared concrete cell, this tiny apartment felt like a palace.

For dinner, you went over to the small fridge and pulled out a couple of plastic containers you’d brought home from the restaurant where you worked as a waitress. They were leftovers of kimchi stew and rice from the day before that the owner had let you take. You heated everything up on a small portable stove while he watched you from the edge of the couch, his hands resting heavily on his knees.

You served him a generous portion in a ceramic bowl and pulled up a folding chair right across from him.

"Eat as much as you want, Seok-dae. I know the food in there must've been awful" you said, handing him a pair of metal chopsticks.

He took them, murmuring an almost inaudible thank you before he began to eat. He devoured the stew in silence, savoring every single bite of the home-cooked meal as if it were an absolute luxury. You watched him eat, a profound sense of peace settling into your chest as you realized that, after all this time, you were finally able to provide a moment of tranquility to the guy who had sacrificed everything to keep you safe.

When dinner was over, Seok-dae fiercely insisted on washing the dishes in the tiny sink, flatly refusing to let you do all the work. Later, when it came time for bed, he immediately shut down your offer to give him the mattress.

"You have work early tomorrow, sleep in your own bed" he commanded in that firm, unyielding tone that left zero room for argument. "I'll be fine here. I've slept in places a hell of a lot worse than this couch."

Realizing you weren't going to win this fight, you went into your room to grab a thick blanket and a pillow. You helped him smooth the blanket over the worn fabric of the sofa. Seok-dae laid down on his side, curling his long legs as best he could to fit into the frame, and looked up at you as you reached for the light switch.

"Goodnight, Seok-dae" you said softly, your hand resting on the switch.

"Goodnight" he responded, settling his head onto the pillow. "And... thanks again. For everything."

You flipped the switch, plunging the room into the soft shadows of the night. You walked into your bedroom with a notably lighter heart, knowing that the man who had shielded you in your worst days was finally safe under your own roof.

(...)

The midday sun streamed fully through the window of the tiny apartment, casting golden patterns across the floor. Seok-dae opened his eyes slowly, feeling momentarily disoriented by the absolute stillness surrounding him. For a split second, his body locked up, bracing for the harsh shouts of the guards, the metallic clanging of cell doors unlocking in a chain reaction or the hostile murmurs of the other inmates.

But there was none of that... the only sound was the faint, low hum of the old refrigerator in the corner and the distant rumble of a car passing on the street below.

He sat up on the sofa, finding his long legs completely numb from sleeping curled up like a ball all night. Despite the ache, he stretched his arms and let out a deep, grounding exhale... he hadn't slept that well in months. The thick blanket you’d left for him smelled distinctly of you, a comforting scent that instantly wiped away the lingering stench of confinement he still felt clinging to his skin.

You had slipped out early that morning for your shift at the restaurant, moving on tiptoe so you wouldnt disturb his sleep, but you had made sure not to leave him empty-handed.

Stepping over to the small kitchen table, Seok-dae found lunch completely ready for him. You had left a bowl of steamed rice and a dish of soup, carefully covered to keep the heat from escaping, alongside a pair of perfectly aligned chopsticks. Seeing the table set just for him sent an unfamiliar warmth blooming through his chest. He sat down slowly, staring at the food as if it were a sacred artifact. The crushing weight of guilt and gratitude tangled in his mind once more, triggering a torrent of memories he thought he’d locked away beneath his usual layer of indifference.

As he stared at the meal you’d prepped, Seok-dae’s mind inevitably drifted back to a specific rainy afternoon, nearly a year and a half ago, back when you were both still criminals trapped under Gil-soo’s thumb. He could practically feel the physical agony in his bones and the damp chill soaking through his torn jacket.

That afternoon, two thugs from a rival crew had ambushed him in a blind alley. Outnumbered and outsized, they had beaten him mercilessly until he was brought down to his knees in the dirt, spitting blood into the mud. Seok-dae had already accepted his defeat, closing his eyes as he waited for the final blow.

But then, you came tearing around the corner of the alley. You hadn't cared that it was two big guys against him or that you could easily end up severely injured. Your face had been white with sheer terror and your legs were visibly shaking, but your eyes held a blind rage.

You’d snatched up a heavy piece of timber discarded next to a dumpster, raised it high with both hands and started whaling on the backs of those two guys with every ounce of strength in your body.

"Leave him the fuck alone! Get out of here, you miserable bastards!" you’d screamed at them, swinging the wood relentlessly.

The two attackers had backed off, thoroughly confused as they rubbed their bruised backs. Seeing that you were fully prepared to swing again, they turned tail and bolted. That very same evening, the two of you sat on the floor of the hideout patching up your wounds. You were trembling so violently you could barely hold the cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol.

"You're an idiot, Seok-dae. Why didn't you defend yourself better? They're cowards... they would've killed you if I hadn't shown up" you’d told him back then, eyes brimming with tears of pure frustration as you meticulously and gently cleaned the deep cut on his lip.

"You shouldn't have jumped in, it was too dangerous" he’d barked back with his usual gruffness, though inside, his heart was hammering entirely out of control.

It was exactly in that moment that something drastically shifted inside Seok-dae. He stopped looking at you as just another victim Gil-soo was extorting and started seeing you as a woman. He felt a fierce warmth and a profound urge to protect you that he had never experienced for anyone before. But the very second he realized he loved you, he knew he had to bury it deep, locking that feeling away in the darkest corner of his soul.

You were a good girl…. someone with a pure heart who had only fallen into this darkness because of your family’s ruin. You deserved a good future, a normal life far away from the blood and the filth of the streets. You deserved someone a thousand times better than a dead-end street thug like him.

Seok-dae blinked, pulling himself out of the memory to focus on the present. He picked up the chopsticks and began to eat the lunch you’d left behind, savoring every bite in the quiet apartment. When he finished, he meticulously washed the bowl and plate, leaving the sink spotless.

He dug into his jacket pockets and pulled out his cell phone. He powered it on for the first time in months, watching the screen sluggishly light up. The first thing he did was pull up your number in his contacts. His fingers moved with a bit of clumsiness across the touchscreen as he typed out a direct text message, completely on brand for his low-key style.

Seok-dae: Thanks for the food, it was really good. Cleaned everything up. Have a good shift.

The second he hit send, the phone vibrated in his hand… but it wasn't a reply from you. A notification popped up from a number he recognized instantly despite the elapsed time. It was a message from his mother.

Mom: Where are you? Have you been released from the detention center yet? Answer me.

Seok-dae stared at the screen for a solid minute. The absolute coldness of his mother’s words contrasted painfully with the residual warmth of the stew he’d just eaten and the memory of your care. His family had abandoned him to his fate the absolute second things got ugly... no one had visited him, no one had bothered to check if he had food or a place to drop dead when he got out of prison. The only single person who had stood by his side was you.

With a bitter scowl, he typed out a definitive reply.

Seok-dae: I'm fine.

He swiftly blocked his mother’s number, silencing any future attempts at communication. He locked the screen and tossed the phone onto the kitchen table, he didn't need anything else. That was the only message from his past he ever intended to answer.

His life, his present and whatever little future he had left to build belonged right here in this tiny apartment, waiting for you to come home from work.

(...)

Weeks blurred into a routine that was as monotonous as it was deeply comforting. Thanks to an endorsement from your restaurant boss, Seok-dae had landed a job at the local noodle factory. It was punishing, backbreaking work involving long shifts of hauling heavy sacks of flour and scrubbing down massive industrial mixing machines, but he didn't care about the physical toll in the slightest. It gave him an immense sense of pride to return to the apartment with the scent of flour embedded in his clothes and cash earned through the sweat of his brow.

However, as days bled into weeks, the tiny confines of the apartment began to feel unbearably cramped. Their daily coexistence grew heavy with an unspoken tension, one you could practically breathe in whenever you crossed paths in the narrow hallway. The looks you exchanged began to linger a second longer than necessary and the casual brush of your hands when passing the salt felt like literal electric shocks that made you both pull away instantly, faces flushed deep crimson.

One night, that silent storm finally broke.

You had finished dinner and were clearing the table in absolute silence. You felt like your heart was going to burst right out of your chest, hammering violently against your ribs. You couldn't keep pretending everything was normal, you couldn't keep swallowing the feelings burning a hole in your throat. Taking a massive breath to anchor your courage, you planted your feet firmly by the kitchen table and decided to take the leap that would change everything.

"Seok-dae, we need to talk" you said.

Your hands were shaking slightly, so you pressed your palms flat against the wood of the table so he wouldn't notice. Seok-dae froze mid-motion and looked at you sideways, his shoulders tightening out of pure instinct.

"Is something wrong?" he asked in his usual low tone. "Did the restaurant owner say something to you? Is there a problem with the rent?"

"No, it's nothing like that" you replied, swallowing hard to clear the nervous knot in your throat. Your gaze was so intense and sincere it forced him to set his glass down on the table. "It's about us... about me. I can't keep acting like we're just roommates or acquaintances who happened to survive the same trauma. Seok-dae... I like you. I've been in love with you for a really long time. I don't care about the past, I don't care about anything that happened before. I just needed you to know, because I can't keep hiding it."

Seok-dae froze completely solid. Your direct words caught him entirely off guard, obliterating months of carefully constructed defenses in a single second. His dark eyes widened in shock and a shadow of pure panic flashed across his features. In his mind, his old demons woke up with a vengeance: the memory of his cell, the violence, the absolute certainty that he was a damaged piece of trash who would bring nothing but ruin to anyone who got close to him.

He slammed to his feet, shoving his chair back with a harsh screech that echoed off the four walls of the room.

"Don't talk stupid" he snapped, his voice attempting a cold, harsh edge though a distinct tremor shook his jaw. "You don't know what you're saying. Don't... don't think about me that way. It's impossible. Forget it."

"Why are you calling it stupid?" you fired back, taking a sharp step toward him, eyes flashing with frustration. "You know damn well it's the truth. You feel the exact same way, I can tell by how you look at me, how you protect me…"

"I told you to shut up!" he roared, raising his voice louder than usual, though his eyes betrayed far more terror than anger. Whirling around, he stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door shut so hard the windows rattled.

You stood frozen in the middle of the room, feeling the rejection hit your face like a bucket of ice water. The air in the apartment seemed to vanish entirely,  your chest throbbed with a bitter sting of humiliation and sorrow that clawed up your throat. You needed to breathe... you needed to escape the suffocating weight of that room. Snatching up your jacket, you shoved your feet into your shoes and bolted out into the street, pulling the door shut behind you with a sharp click.

Inside the bathroom, Seok-dae heard the front door slam. He pressed his forehead against the cold tile wall, letting out an agonizing groan. Guilt immediately began to rip him apart.

Stepping out of the bathroom a few minutes later to find the living room completely empty, the absolute silence of the space crashed down on him. He slumped onto the edge of the couch, burying his head in his hands, his fingers knotting into his hair as he spiraled into mental torture. He wanted to die for hurting you, but his brain kept ruthlessly repeating that pushing you away was the right call… that a monster like him had no right to love someone as good as you.

An hour ticked by in isolation... then another thirty minutes.

Outside, you walked aimlessly through the illuminated streets of your neighborhood. The freezing Seoul night air bit straight through to your bones, but the ache in your chest was so overwhelming you barely even felt it. You wandered through a deserted playground, eventually sinking onto a concrete bench to stare at the ground, replaying your own words over and over, wondering if you had just permanently destroyed the only real relationship you had left. Lost in your own thoughts, you completely lost track of time, oblivious to the fact that the clock had long since passed midnight and the streets had emptied out entirely.

When the sheer exhaustion and biting cold finally broke your resolve, you headed back to the building. You climbed the stairs and punched in the door code with numb fingers. Shoving the door open and stepping into the apartment, you stopped dead in your tracks.

Seok-dae was standing right in the middle of the living room. His jacket was only half-on, his bootlaces were completely untied and his face was entirely distorted by raw panic. He was clutching his cell phone, looking like he was mere seconds away from dialing emergency lines.

The moment he saw you cross the threshold, the air flooded right back into his lungs. He dropped the phone onto the table and took two frantic steps toward you, stopping a mere inches from your body. His shoulders were trembling slightly from a volatile mix of relief and terror.

"Where the hell were you?" he demanded, his voice entirely frantic. "It's past midnight. You've been gone for over an hour and a half. I thought... fuck, I thought something happened to you. I thought Gil-soo’s guys had tracked you down or some bastard had done something to you on the street. I was about to go out and rip the head off anyone I ran into. Don't you ever do that again!"

You stood completely still by the door, staring at him intently. Seeing him in this state of absolute terror… watching his fortress of an exterior completely crumble solely because he was terrified of losing you, washed away every single drop of the humiliation you’d felt earlier. Your eyes welled with fresh tears, but you kept your chin up.

"Why are you acting like this, Seok-dae?" you challenged softly. "If you care about me this much... if you completely lose your mind just because I went for a walk... then why did you reject me like that in the kitchen? Why did you push me away?"

Seok-dae fell completely silent, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily. He looked down at your freezing hands, tracked the path of the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks and felt his entire internal resistance shatter into dust. He couldn't keep lying to himself, he couldn't keep acting as the guardian of a wall that was already falling to pieces.

He finally threw in the towel.

"Because I'm a fucking ex-con!" he snapped, his voice cracking as he took a sharp step back. "I was in prison. I was a criminal, a thug who extorted people and made a living out of pure violence. I have absolutely nothing to offer you, don't you get that? Nothing but a filthy past and a record that's gonna hunt me down for the rest of my life. You... you actually managed to move forward. You have an honest job, you're building a clean life in this place. You deserve someone who can hold your hand in public without people looking at him with disgust. You deserve someone a thousand times better than me. I don't want to ruin your life."

Hearing those words broke your heart, but at the exact same time, it ignited a protective rage inside you… the exact same fury you’d felt that rainy afternoon in the alley when you’d defended him. You stepped toward him without a hint of hesitation, reached up and firmly cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to tilt his head down so he had to look you dead in the eye. Your palms absorbed the intense heat radiating from his cheeks.

"Don't you ever say something that stupid again for as long as you live, Seok-dae" you told him, your voice shaking with raw emotion. "You are not less than anybody. Real families stand by each other through the good and the absolute worst, and you were my only real family when I was at the absolute bottom of that miserable pit. You changed. You helped put those criminals away and you sat in a cell for months paying for your mistakes. Now you get up every single day at dawn to work yourself to the bone at that factory. You are the most noble man I have ever met in my entire life, and that's why I want you... you're the only one I want in my life, Seok-dae. Nobody else."

Seok-dae blinked slowly, processing every syllable as your tears finally spilled over and rolled down your cheeks. Seeing the pure love shining in your eyes finally demolished the very last brick of the armor he’d carried for months. He finally understood that to you, he wasn't a monster… he was your home and the partner you chose.

He slowly leaned forward and kissed you.

It was clumsy at first, loaded with all the desperation, fear and suffocating tension that had accumulated over the past weeks. But within seconds, the moment he felt your hands lace tightly behind his neck to pull him closer, the kiss shifted entirely. It turned remarkably soft and deep, filled with a tenderness so profound it made a quiet sigh escape your lips against his mouth. His massive hands slid down from your face to your waist, pulling you against his frame with a protective strength.

He wasn't trying to push you away anymore, he was locking you to his side forever. It was the physical confirmation that the storm had officially passed and that you had both survived.

When you finally broke apart to catch your breath, Seok-dae didn't let go. He rested his forehead against yours, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. His large hands dragged in slow, soothing strokes across your back, trying to memorize the exact feeling of having you this close.

"I'm sorry" he murmured, his voice thick and rough as he brushed his lips against yours in a quiet whisper. "I'm sorry for being such an idiot. I promise I'm never gonna push you away again."

A small smile broke through your tears and you looped your arms securely around his neck, pressing your ear flat against his chest… right where you could hear the steady thud of his heartbeat gradually settling into a calm rhythm.

"You better not, Seok-dae" you answered softly.

That night, you crawled into your bed together, tangled beneath the same thick blanket that smelled faintly of lavender. Seok-dae kept you tightly anchored against his body, his chin resting on top of your head and one arm wrapped securely around your waist.

it was freezing. that was the first thing you noticed when you climbed out of bed and it nearly had you turning back around and retreating back under your blankets. you hugged your arms around yourself and exhaled as you crossed into the gulley. everyone was gathered inside, all hunched slightly together, all equally cold. all except zoro. who was completely shirtless, arms crossed over his chest like he was thinking. you tripped on the way into the kitchen and only sanji’s quick reflexes stopped you from biting the wooden floor and likely breaking your face.

“easy, love!” sanji gave you an amused smile, steadying you back on your feet before returning to the stove. you dropped your eyes immediately, realizing that shirtless zoro was becoming a hazard to your safety.

you tucked in besides luffy, glancing back behind you once more, and horrifically meeting zoro’s eye. he nodded once, though you swore there was the faintest smirk there. your heart rate leapt and you scrambled to greet him so it didn’t appear that you were just ogling him. again.

“‘morning…”

zoro nodded in acknowledgement. and then, startlingly, “you look cold.” he had meant it as an observation— a pathetic attempt to talk to you, carry on the conversation without seeming pathetic like sanji-

you opened your mouth to respond, unsure of why you were panicking.

“everyone is cold, but you, zoro!”

zoro inhaled slowly, tilting his head back slightly as he shifted, “seems like your problem…” you swore he glanced at you again, “if i had a coat, i would give it to you…”

your heart flipped and you nearly fell out of the damn chair. there was a cough from sanji and he muttered something that sounded a lot like pathetic. everyone else had been smart enough to grab a jacket, while you still wore your t-shirt. whatever sanji was making for breakfast smelled amazing, and the stove was warm so you stood to your feet and offered to help.

“can i do anything?”

“you can just stand there and look pretty, love.”

you shifted closer to the oven and sanji eyed you. he looked calculating at first, as if about to scold you for something. he took one look back at zoro and shifted his jacket off his shoulders, “put this on. you appear to be turning blue.”

you shrugged his jacket on with a content sigh, breathing in the familiar scent of you best friend and favorite cook in the world. cigarettes, cooking oil and something slightly sweet. it was entirely sanji. much warmer, and quite comfortable with an oversized coat hanging off you like a blanket, you returned to luffy’s side.

“did you make hot cocoa? i smell chocolate.”

sanji met luffy’s eager expression with only mild irritation, “i did, in fact. it was going to be a surprise, but there’s no fooling that nose of yours.”

“not when it comes to food!”

“there’s a hint of orange in it, straight from nani’s tree.” sanji sent nami a wink and she met it with a fond, incredulous smile.

you and nami were served first, and zoro— who had slid in beside you and caused your stomach to flip— smacked luffy’s hand away from your mug. you eyed him appreciatively and he looked away like it stung. you focused your attention on the plate of eggs and the still steaming cinnamon rolls, feeling your appetite decrease significantly.

“do you want me to throw him in the ocean?”

sanji removed the lit cigarette from his lips and eyed you, “moss head.”

you greatly considered taking one of his cigarettes for yourself just to likely choke on it and be temporarily distracted from—

zoro crossed the deck again, still shirtless and unbothered by the cold. the curse you had thought to yourself, you must have said audibly because sanji was now eyeing you with a smirk, “is that a yes, then? he would at least be cold enough to put on a shirt.”

you eyed him with a sharp look, to which sanji only laughed.

“aren’t you freezing?”

zoro glanced at usopp, as if he hadn’t even considered it, “could be warmer…”

“dude, put a shirt on! everyone else is wearing coats!”

usopp threw zoro’s discarded shirt— from when he had been working out this morning and you had luckily still been asleep or else risked falling off the boat entirely— and zoro caught it with a grunt. he pulled it over his head and eyed usopp blankly, “happy?”

“do you want me to throw usopp into the ocean?”

you snorted at this and immediately covered your mouth as every eye landed on you with a questioning expression. this only made you laugh harder and when sanji joined in, you couldn’t stop.

the entire crew now watched you with dumbfounded amusement, further pushing the theory that the two of you lived in your own world.

zoro eyed you from across the ship, not realizing his hand had moved to the hilt of his sword, or that he held a similar stance as he did before a fight. you were laughing like you had forgotten all about the cold, hand on sanji’s wrist, still wearing his jacket from this morning. he didn’t understand why he couldn’t be like that with you. he tried— he failed miserably. he should have gone and gotten his jacket this morning and given it to you. not just pointed out that you looked cold…

you had crossed the ship again, casting a final glance to sanji that made zoro’s hand twitch against his sword. he should do something… he should say something… he should stop being so damn indifferent and nonchalant about every damn thing. he had been the one to save you… he hadn’t even thought about it at the time— sanji hadn’t been there. you had thanked him, of course… you had constantly thanked him, actually. and your eyes were on him a lot— he had tried to play it off. convinced himself—

there was a hand on his shoulder and he flinched.

“zoro?”

you blinked up at him, head tilted slightly.

“what?” he looked as if he had just woken up from a nap, disoriented and slightly dazed.

“i asked how your scar was? the one you got from saving me?”

“oh,” he forced himself to get it together, pulling down his t-shirt sleeve slightly to reveal the now fully healed gash in his bicep, “good as new… can’t even feel it.”

you had felt so guilty. convinced it was some horrible thing he had happen just to get you to safety, as if he hadn’t been through worse than he would likely ever tell you.

“it’s nothing. really…”

you had nearly started crying when you felt the blood against your hand— this total stranger had saved you and was now bleeding because of it.

“really. i can barely feel it.”

you had stitched him up and sent him away with cookies that even sanji was drooling over. and those two things alone is what had luffy recruiting you to join his crew.

you eyed him skeptically, eyebrows lifted in a slightly accusing look.

“don’t worry about it. it was worth it to save you.”

the entire world spun out of control beneath your feet and you had the very sudden sensation of falling. your pulse skyrocketed and your stomach twisted in that way it always did around zoro.

you instinctively reached out to trace the slowly fading scar, but froze, before you made a fool of yourself. zoro eyed you, eyes shifting to your hand reaching for his bicep, “it’s okay.” he took your hand gently and placed it against his skin.

you fought the urge to pass out, as your thumb traced over his muscles in a way that made you forget that you had been freezing earlier.

“i’m just fine. you can squeeze it if you need further proof…”

he shouldn’t have said it— but the way your eyes lit up slightly at the thought made him fight back his own smirk.

you couldn’t fight off your own smile as you fought with every single sane sense of yourself to not speak—

“are you just trying to get me to feel your muscles, zoro?”

“are you saying you’ve never wanted to?”

your breath caught and for an insane moment you swore he was looking down at you the same way you looked at him. he held the faintest smirk, glancing down at you with a softer look than he had ever given anyone. you forced yourself to look away from him before you collapsed, and he slowly lowered his arm. you cursed yourself for being the one to look away, but truthfully your legs were shaking and you felt as though gravity was pushing you onto the deck of the ship.

“did i see you… touching his bicep?”

you covered your face and groaned, ignoring the snickers from luffy and nami.

“it’s not funny!”

“be nice to her. i think her crush on zoro is really cute.”

you shot luffy a glare and he grinned at you innocently— painfully unaware that your crush had snowballed and was now a full fledged avalanche, capable of taking out several villages.

“i think we’re way past crush, captain... a crush goes away. it’s been a while now, and i think our dear paramedic is doomed.”

you didn’t bother glaring at sanji, because he was not wrong. you let your head fall forward on the table and sighed deeply– though it came out an awful lot like a groan.

luffy had his arm around you, walking much faster than everyone else in the front of the group. your head was on a swivel as you listened to luffy carry on about all the things he wanted to do while docked. you grinned over at him, playfully ruffling his hair beneath his hat, letting your arm rest over his shoulder.

behind you, zoro stumbled slightly and muttered a curse. sanji glanced over to him, failing at hiding his smirk.

“what?”

zoro’s tone was like venom, glaring at sanji as if he had insulted him.

“bit tense, there, moss head. your hand is on your sword like you’re going to attack our captain.”

“no idea what you talking about.”

sanji smirked slightly, keeping his eyes straight ahead, despite zoro’s murderous glare, “whatever you say.”

luffy glanced behind him, having stopped walking. you were still attached to him in a half hug when you turned to face the others.

“we’re going to split up now.”

“we are?” usopp stopped walking, only because he ran into the back of nami, who turned to face him with a sharp glare.

“we need supplies. and i want to see where gold roger was executed!”

zoro blinked slowly.

“more food and medical supplies. we will meet back at the ship…” luffy adjusted his hat and started walking, without another word.

you opened your mouth to point out that he should not be unattended, when nami grabbed your shoulder. she dropped a purse full of coin into your hand. “don’t let those idiots spend all of it.”

you smirked to yourself, glancing over at zoro and sanji. nami pointed to both of them in irritation, “and i charge interest.” nami nudged you once with a grin, “not you, though.”

nami disappeared with usopp, and before you could attempt to trail after luffy, you realized sanji and zoro were following you. you glanced over your shoulder and they both regarded you with a nod.

you held an armful of medical supplies, rolling your eyes slightly as zoro and sanji argued behind you. zoro was growing more irritated, while sanji was somehow getting taller and more tense. you cursed as sanji pushed zoro and zoro bumped into you slightly. you dropped an armful of gauze and syringes and cursed.

your sharp tone had caused the arguing to stop and sanji was mumbling apologies as he stooped to collect the rolls of bandages.

“i’ve got it, mosshead.”

“you’re the reason she dropped them.”

zoro gave sanji a sharp glare as he finished gathering the rest of your supplies. sanji held out his arms to offer to take everything you carried, but zoro stepped in front of him, eyes furious.

“you’ve done enough… i’ve got it.”

zoro took everything you had been carrying without another word and sanji mumbled something under his breath, eyeing you with the slightest smirk.

“what was that?” zoro didn’t bother turning around, though his tone was venom.

you put a cautious hand on zoro’s elbow and the tension evaporated. he glanced over to you, expression softening, eyeing you up and down as if checking if you were hurt.

“are you okay?”

zoro shifted his eyes away from you, neutral— and slightly irritated– expression returning, “i’m fine.” you frowned slightly. he was always so closed off and unreadable, though lately he had been different. he actually laughed around you and sometimes you swore he even had the faintest smirk when you caught him looking at you. but other times it seemed you had nothing between you— he would be quiet and nonchalant to the point of infuriating. your frustration built and you didn’t take your eyes off him as you yanked the medical supplies out of his arms.

zoro looked surprised— question and confusion on his face as you turned to sanji sharply, “can you take these to the ship?”

zoro opened his mouth to argue, cheeks turning slightly red. sanji had hesitated slightly, looking at you with a furrowed brow. zoro was reaching for the supplies again, preparing to yank them away from sanji, when you grabbing his wrist and yanked him after you.

sanji’s eyes widened slightly, understanding settling in. zoro’s eyes widened, looking truly frightened by you for a brief moment.

you said nothing as you kept his hand in yours and dragged him along behind you. zoro didn’t question you, or even attempt to pull his hand out of your grip. he just trailed along behind you like a damn fool, clearly holding no reservations about the situation.

zoro lifted his eyebrow as you stopped outside a pub. you let go of his hand and glanced over to him, said nothing, and opened the door and walked inside.

“what are we doing here?”

zoro irritation had completely vanished, and he now looked at you with mild interest, tone different than anyone else he spoke to.

“we’re getting a drink…”

at this, zoro smirked slightly and pulled the chair out for you. he tucked his hand into his pocket and you put your hand on his wrist, “i’m buying.”

“what? no you’re not— i’m not letting you pay for—“

you shot him a glare and placed a few berry on the counter. zoro reached forward in an attempt to grab it, but you flicked it to the bartender instead, who caught it with a faint smirk.

“roronoa zoro, you’re going to let me buy you a drink.”

zoro eyed you, eyes darkening just slightly at your commanding tone. there was a slight smirk on his lips as he glanced away from you, “yes, ma’am.” his tone was slightly playful and you shoved him.

zoro’s gaze fell to your hand on his chest, eyes widening just slightly, tensing just enough to make it obvious.

“do you want to tell me why you and sanji seem to be getting along even less than usual?”

you sipped the drink you had ordered, eyeing zoro with a small, knowing smirk.

“no idea what you’re talking about… i was just pissed off.”

you lifted an eyebrow, glancing at him over your drink. you never drank. you were a lightweight and you tended to have a loose tongue and even looser laughter.

“stop looking at me like that.” zoro looked away, jaw tensing.

“like what?”

“like you know something…”

you finished your drink and smirked slightly, “i like to think i know you a little… you say you’re pissed off, yet you’re perfectly fine with me.”

“yes.”

“when you’re pissed, you’re pissed at everyone.”

zoro lifted an eyebrow, slightly amused.

but it wasn’t completely true… he had always been different to you. even in his frustration and high adrenaline, his voice was softer with you— his words more careful.

“you say that like you observe me a lot…”

you glanced down, fidgeting with your empty glass. your pulse had jumped and your stomach rose to your throat momentarily. you breathed in slowly, “maybe i do.”

fuck—

zoro glanced over, eyebrow lifted, slight smirk on his face.

“i mean— not like that… i observe everyone—”

zoro’s eyes fell briefly, “ah..ha…” he tapped his bottle on the counter twice, working his jaw.

“zoro.”

“mm?” he didn’t look at you, posture now rigid.

“zoro…” you put your hand over his and he flinched.

“why are you fighting with sanji more than usual?”

“he’s an idiot.”

you eyed him and hummed, waving your hand for the bartender to bring you another drink.

“you don’t drink…” zoro eyed you hesitantly, eyes locked on you in anticipation.

“you say that like you observe me a lot…” you said it with his same tone— soft, slightly playful, not completely innocent.

zoro smirked against his bottle, eyes locked straight ahead, “maybe i do…”

you fought the urge to jump on him right then and there. your head was spinning, stomach twisting in a way that nearly had you falling off the bar stool. you reached for your glass but this time it was his hand that held you.

you met his gaze, your eyes wide, holding your breath. zoro opened his mouth to speak— closed it. looked away, reached for his drink again.

“truth for a truth?”

you felt the absence of his hand over yours like a gaping hole. your pulse reverberated through your chest, vibrating your very ribs. the tension in the moment hummed through the air like an obnoxious bug. you gripped the edge of the counter to keep your hand from shaking. you really weren’t sure if you were feeling the alcohol or just finally fully losing it in zoro’s presence.

“alright…” you tipped your glass towards him and he tapped his bottle against it with a faint smirk.

you eyed him, hand still on your glass, trying to keep your fingers steady. zoro watched you in silence, anticipating, clearly waiting for you to speak first.

“why are you and sanji getting along even less today?”

zoro clicked his tongue and inhaled, “i knew that would be your question.”

you eyed him again with an amused smirk, “answer the question…”

“pass.”

“zoro!”

“my turn.”

“you only get two passes!”

zoro smirked slightly, adjusting his hold on his drink, “why do you always bring the cook with you everywhere?”

what—

“i don’t always bring sanji—“

why did he care?

“because i think he’s my best friend.”

“only your friend?”

“that’s two in a row!”

“you’re not denying it…”

“he’s never going to be more than a friend.”

“and why is that?”

“it’s my turn.”

zoro eyed you and for a moment you felt the world flip completely. his eyes were burning into you— it was with such an intensity that you knew if you tried to stand up, you wouldn’t be able to.

“why are you wanting to rip sanji to shreds?”

“that’s the same question. you just reworded it.”

“not against the rules… only one pass left.”

zoro let out the faintest grunt and took another sip, “he got on my nerves.”

“why—“

zoro’s smirk had vanished and now turned to a furious determination that left your head spinning, “two questions at once. my turn.”

you found it hard to swallow— heart beating as if trying to break through your sternum.

you knew he was going to ask a follow up on—

“why did you send sanji back to the ship instead of me?”

“i don’t know.”

“not good enough…”

“zoro—“

“you grabbed me and dragged me here. not him. why?”

you tore your eyes away from him, fixed on the ground now— needing to look anywhere but him.

“because…”

“because what.”

“two— two questions at once…” the room had become sweltering. there was a thickness in the air that nearly had you grabbing for your throat.

“because what…”

he was daring you.

that intensity in his eyes burned like an unbridled inferno.

“what did sanji do to piss you off?”

“pass.”

you almost cursed, fighting the urge to cover your face with your hand and slump forward on the counter.

“why did you send sanji back to the ship and not me?”

“pass— why is it bothering you so much?”

“pass.”

“that’s your last pass.”

zoro’s jaw tightened, reaching for his drink that was now empty.

“why do you act different with me?”

“what—? i— what do you mean?”

“that wasn’t a question that warranted another question…”

“i don’t know.”

“bullshit…”

you turned to him furiously, this time your palm slammed down on the table in frustration. zoro didn’t even flinch— his smirk only grew, eyes drifting from his drink to you.

determined, intense, daring— almost like he was going to devour you.

“why do you keep asking about sanji?”

zoro’s grip tightened on his bottle and you swore it was going to shatter. his jaw was set like he was furious; that intensity dialed to one hundred, eyes set on the counter like he could burn a hole through it.

“why did you put on his jacket?”

“it’s my turn—“ you felt like the world had stopped abruptly and sent you crashing to a halt in a way that would give you whiplash or a concussion. his words were venom. spitting them out like they tasted bitter. there was an uncertainty there— a slight shake in his voice like he was trying to restrain himself.

you finally forced out words, feeling bile rise in your throat, stomach twisting, breath coming out in a shake, “what?”

“you still wear it… i saw you with it last night.”

“this is about jacket—“

but it wasn’t. you knew it wasn’t….

it couldn’t have been.

“this is about you.”

“me? i’m sorry— i—“

“i hate seeing you in that damn jacket.”

your blood ran cold and you stopped breathing completely.

“it’s ugly and it doesn’t suit you.” he was flexing his fingers around the bottle of sake, staring at them like he had never seen fingers, “you walked past me and you smelled like him and i wanted to strangle him.”

“wh—“

“you stand too close to him and you laugh too hard at his stupid jokes. he isn’t even that funny… and you put your arms around him like it’s nothing…”

“it is nothing—“

“it doesn’t look like nothing.”

you couldn’t breathe now— the room had started to tilt.

“are you jealous of sanji?”

zoro just stared at you. his arm flexed, his jaw tensed. his eyes burned darker than you had ever seen. his mouth twitched just slightly, hand shaking just slightly like he was physically fighting with something.

“zoro…”

“you say it first.”

“zoro—“

“say it…”

“he’s never going to be more than a friend. and he doesn’t want to be. and he knows why…” your voice shook, though you swore those words echoed across the entire island.

“why not?”

it was a dare not a question.

you just eyed him, panic building, nausea bubbling in your stomach, head spinning— you felt the world tilt as you stood to your feet, legs shaking slightly from the intensity of him.

your hands landed on his chest and you crashed into him. your fists tightened on the sides of his v-neck and his smirk only deepened. you stumbled slightly as your back hit the edge of the counter, dragging zoro against you in a kiss that was punishing. his mouth was on yours without hesitation; every unspoken word crashing into you like a tidal wave. you wanted to drown in him— chasing after him as he slightly moved away. his hands slid around your back, kisses turning messier and more desperate, like he wanted to kiss you every possible way before the night ended— like he needed you more than air. your hands found his biceps in an attempt to steady yourself, but the feel of his muscles flexed as he held you seemed to make your head spin further. you melted into him, swearing you were close to passing out— your fingers found his hair and zoro nearly snapped.

his eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head as he melted into you, heat and desperation and passion. he pulled away breathless, eyes wild, face set in a new expression you had ever seen. he looked down at you with that same intensity, hand still around your waist, chest rising and falling like he had just ended a fight.

“truth for a truth…”

you panted against his lips, tilting your head up slightly to desperately taste them again.

“if i ever see you in that cook’s jacket again, i’m going to lose it…”

“i really want to kiss you again…”

“i think i’m in love with you.”

“i’ve been in love with you for a really long time…”

𑣲 He’s the type to chase one kiss with three more. You pull away thinking it’s over, and he immediately leans in again: “Nah, one more.” And then it's another one. And another. Until you two lose the count and become a total mess.

𑣲 He could be such an unapologetic yapper while kissing you. He talks right against your lips. Low voice, smug grin you can feel more than see. The kisses start deep and slow, and then suddenly: “You still mad at me, sweetheart?”, while literally not letting you think straight enough to answer.He loves interrupting your attempts to talk with another kiss. You barely get a sentence out before he’s kissing you again like: “Nah, keep that thought for later.”

under the fluorescent yellow light, you saw armin freeze, tips of his ears turning a dark shade of red. "nothing," he said, but it was a bit too quickly so you knew that he was lying. "don't worry about it."

"what did you say?"

armin dropped his forehead against the open pages of his black notebook, groaning quietly as to not disturb any of the other students at tables near you. you laughed, cocking your head to the side. sunlight shined through the window next to you, catching the golden strands of armin's hair.

he looked back up at you. "i asked if you'd maybe want to go to get coffee with me on saturday." he stared at his notebook then, stubbornly like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"are you asking me on a date?" you asked, reaching across the table to nudge his papers, prompting him to look back up at you.

"that was the idea."

your heartbeat picked up, realizing that yes, armin was trying to ask you on a date. you knew that there was something different shifting between the both of you, and maybe you should've asked him to go on a date sooner.

he was always saving you a seat before class started if you were going to be a little late, he always walked you home whenever you two would be up late in the evenings for study sessions. you thought you had been making it up in your head, but the way that armin was looking as red as a strawberry right now, you knew that the feelings were mutual.

you gave him a smile. "of course, min. you said saturday?"

his eyebrows lifted, relief spreading across his whole face.

"yes, saturday!"

that saturday, you promised to meet armin at the local coffee shop around ten in the morning. you spent twenty minutes deciding what to wear because armin had only seen you in your half assed outfits to go to school, you wanted to look cute for him.

you didn't want to be late, so you made your way over to the shop ignoring the way that your heart was beating a million miles per minute in your chest. when you checked the clock on your phone as you entered the café, you saw it was 9:53.

the scent of fresh coffee and sweet pastries filled your senses, greeting you into the space. not so surprisingly, there was already a crowd of people here for the weekend rush. some students sat at the corner tables and over by the high tables by the windows with their laptops open and there were others reading books and newspapers.

you searched the room, about to pull out your phone again to text armin, but it wasn't hard to spot him in the crowd. he was already sitting at a smaller, two person table near the corner window. the mug in both of his hands was steaming, fogging up the bottom of his glasses lens. as you walked up closer to him, you saw he was wearing a cream colored sweater underneath a light jacket.

upon seeing you, armin stood up quick enough that the chair scraped lightly against the floor, making both of you giggle. "i got here early . . ." he said when you made it in front of him.

"how early?"

" . . . 9:35"

you laughed. "were you really that nervous?"

"no! i just wanted to make sure there was a table for us!"

you hummed, not really believing him but you didn't want to add to his embarrassment. the nervousness that you had felt while you were getting ready and walking over here seemed to dissipate, leaving just the same comfortable energy between the two of you. it was always easy to talk to armin.

after getting your own cup, setting it down on the wooden table, you listened to him talk about some movie he had watched earlier that week, stirring more sugar into his coffee. you were definitely looking at him more than you were listening, he always looked so passionate when he talked about things that interested him. armin's eyes would light up and he would have a tiny smile, pushing the strands of his blonde hair behind his ear.

" . . . y/n, you're staring at me. did i spill coffee on myself or something?"

your cheeks reddened, shaking your head. "no, sorry."

armin gave you a big smile, hiding it by sipping on his mug. you always knew when he was trying to not look pleased with himself. "i think it's nice," he said when he put the coffee back on the table.

"what's nice?"

"i don't know . . ." armin gave an awkward smile. "i just think it's nice knowing you're staring at me."

"well you're nice to stare at."

armin froze, and for a moment you wondered if you had been too direct, but that fear was replaced when you saw the familiar redness tint his cheeks as well.

he tried to combat his shyness by going into another topic, and you decided to not tease him further, even though it was so cute to see him get all flustered.

you guys ended up talking for so long that the morning crowd in the café was all gone, the clock reading almost noon. "should we get out of here? you wanna come to mine?" you asked him. "we can watch that movie you were talking about?" you didn't want to end the date, it was going so well.

armin nodded, taking your mug and his to the dirty dishes bin. a few minutes later you both walked outside, the afternoon air warm against your face, and you stood there, his shoulder bumping into yours. when you turned to look at him, he was staring at you looking genuinely nervous. he glanced down at your mouth and you grinned.

"min, you know you can kiss me right?" you asked, giggling.

he continued to stare. "are you sure?"

before he could think himself into a circle, you leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. armin's hand came to settle against your cheek, kissing you like he was terrified of getting it wrong. your hand grabbed his wrist, pulling him a fraction closer.