Why, hello.

Zanka

Zanka gritted his teeth as you dabbed at the deep gash across his shoulder.

“Don’t touch the wound like that,” he snapped, though the sharpness in his tone wavered.

“If I don’t, it won’t heal properly,” you replied, pressing the cloth firmly.

His hand twitched toward yours but recoiled almost immediately. You noticed the faint tremor in his fingers, betraying the storm beneath his tough facade. Carefully, you wiped the blood from his hand. Your fingers brushed against his. He froze, and you could hear his breath hitch just slightly.

“Don’t… get used to this… taking care me and shit…” he muttered, voice low.

You ignored the protest, letting your hand rest briefly on his chest as you finished dressing the wound. Zanka stiffened for a moment, then leaned into the warmth anyway, if only slightly.

His fingers twitched against yours, hesitant, testing the connection. He slowly interlaced them… before bringing your fingers to his lips.

What seemed a mere brush of his lips against your hand, spoke volumes… especially as his eyes fluttered close for a moment before locking onto yours, intense and dark.

“Later,” he said finally, voice gruff, hiding something softer underneath.

“Just… you and me. Alone… I want to continue this…”

This… there was a ‘this’... you could barely contain your surprise.

But you just nodded, heart fluttering, feeling the promise beneath his words more clearly than the wound you were tending.

Gris

The battlefield had quieted into an eerie stillness. Only your own breath and Gris’s ragged exhalations filled the air.

“Hold still,” you said, gently cleaning a deep gash along his torso.

He flinched at the touch, but didn’t pull away. Your fingers brushed against his chest again, accidental but not unwelcome. Blood mixed faintly with sweat, sticky and warm under your palms.

“You’re… too gentle,” he said, a small laugh escaping him, disbelief woven through it.

You met his eyes. “Gentle keeps people alive,” you said softly.

He swallowed, letting your hands linger over the wound, brushing against him intentionally this time. You could hear him inhale sharply, the sound catching in his throat.

One of your fingers traced the line of his jaw as you leaned close to check the wound. Gris’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and his hand found yours under the cloth, gripping gently.

Your hearts were beating a little too fast, the quiet punctuated only by the soft sounds of bloodied breathing and cloth against skin. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Gris leaned forward. His forehead brushed yours first. Then his lips, warm, tentative, found yours.

It was gentle at first, testing, asking permission without words. You pressed closer instinctively, letting him pull you in. When he finally parted, he rested his forehead against yours again, exhaling shakily.

“Later,” he murmured, voice low but certain.

“I’ll hold you. Properly, next time.”

You smiled softly, letting your hands linger on his chest, feeling the quiet weight of the promise settle between you, deeper than any wound you had just tended.

Thank you so much for reading! This wasn't request but rather a random thought that popped up in my head! ♡

☁︎ ♡ Dear Santa ♡ ☁︎

Dear Santa doesn’t warm up easily. Having you as an older sibling doesn’t magically soften him—it just gives him someone he tolerates without question.

He communicates with looks first. Sharp glares, narrowed eyes, slow blinks that say more than words ever could. At the beginning, he watches you closely, measuring your tone and your intentions. He doesn’t trust easily, and affection—especially unsolicited affection—irritates him.

You never force it.

You don’t talk at him. You don’t baby him. You don’t try to “fix” his silence. You speak clearly, simply, and you always give him space to respond in his own way—through gestures, sounds, or expressions. When he communicates, you listen like it matters.

That’s what changes everything.

He’s irritable by nature, easily annoyed by noise, chaos, or people who don’t respect boundaries. When things get overwhelming, he clamps down emotionally, pacifier firmly in place, posture rigid. You notice the signs immediately. You adjust without being asked—lower your voice, slow your movements, subtly position yourself between him and whatever’s setting him off.

You’re careful around Centralian. You never touch it without permission. You never joke about it. You understand—intuitively—that it’s not just a weapon, but a source of grounding, comfort, and control. When someone threatens it, his reaction is immediate and violent. When you’re around, he doesn’t need to be told you’re safe near it.

Despite his cold demeanor, Dear Santa!! is painfully responsible. He watches the battlefield even when others relax. He positions himself instinctively in front of you during danger, jaw set, eyes dark. He doesn’t announce his protectiveness—he just acts.

If someone raises their voice at you, his stare alone is enough to shut them down.

He doesn’t express care verbally, but it shows in small, deliberate actions. He hands you things without looking at you. He lingers nearby instead of wandering off. When you’re hurt or tired, he stays closer, posture tense, alert for threats that might not even be there.

When he’s frustrated or overwhelmed, he doesn’t lash out at you. He pulls away instead—sits apart, back against a wall, quietly fuming. You don’t chase him. You sit nearby. Not touching. Not talking. Just present.

Eventually, he relaxes.

That quiet companionship means more to him than words ever could. You become his anchor—someone who doesn’t demand explanation, doesn’t misinterpret his silence, and doesn’t see his irritability as cruelty.

To Dear, you’re not loud comfort or overt affection.

You’re steadiness. Predictability. Safety.

The world feels less hostile when you’re nearby, and that’s the closest thing to trust he knows how to give.

And for him?

That trust is everything.

☁︎ ♡ Guita ♡ ☁︎

Having you as an older sibling just gives Guita permission to be even more herself.

She’s loud about it. Obvious about it. Completely unashamed.

Guita has zero concept of personal space to begin with, so she’s constantly draped over you—leaning her full weight against your side, looping an arm around your shoulders, climbing halfway onto your back just because she feels like it. She’ll grab your hands to drag you somewhere exciting, tug on your clothes when she wants attention, and shout your name across the area even if you’re only a few steps away.

You never scold her for it. You don’t flinch. You just accept her affection like it’s normal—which, to her, it is.

She talks at you nonstop, words slurring together in that familiar way, excitedly rambling about kaiju's, trash beasts, weird things she saw, or something that just popped into her head.

Half of it doesn’t make sense. Sometimes it’s wildly inappropriate. Sometimes it’s just bizarre. You listen anyway. You laugh with her instead of at her, and when something crosses a line, you gently explain it instead of snapping at her.

That’s huge for her.

Guita doesn’t always understand social cues or emotional weight. She asks blunt questions, says things without realizing how they might land, and gets confused when people react negatively. When that happens, she looks to you first—wide-eyed, unsure, suddenly much quieter.

You never make her feel stupid for not knowing.

You explain things simply. Patiently. Sometimes more than once. You don’t get annoyed when she asks again later. You make it clear that curiosity isn’t something she needs to apologize for.

When she gets too excited or overstimulated, you’re the one who grounds her. A hand on her shoulder. A calm voice cutting through her noise. You remind her to breathe, to slow down, to focus. She listens to you more than anyone else, even if she still bounces on her heels while doing it.

And when she messes up—really messes up—you don’t withdraw your affection. You correct her, sure, but you stay close. That consistency teaches her something important: that mistakes don’t mean abandonment.

Guita thrives under your attention. Not because you restrain her chaos, but because you make room for it. You let her be loud, weird, affectionate, excitable—while quietly teaching her how to navigate a world that isn’t always kind to people like her.

To Guita, you’re not just an older sibling.

You’re the person who makes her feel like her energy isn’t “too much.” Like her excitement isn’t annoying. Like her heart, loud and clumsy as it is, belongs somewhere safe.

And she shows that love the only way she knows how—by sticking to you like glue and never letting you forget that you’re hers.

☁︎ ♡ Rudo ♡ ☁︎

Rudo doesn’t know what to do with an older sibling at first.

He’s lived his whole life braced for rejection—by people, by systems, by the world itself. Kindness feels suspicious to him, especially when it’s consistent. So when you show up with patience instead of pity, he pushes back. Hard. He snaps, scoffs, rolls his eyes like he doesn’t care.

But he listens.

Rudo is observant to a fault. He notices the way you never flinch when he raises his voice. The way you don’t correct him publicly or shame him for his anger. When he says something sharp, you don’t retaliate—you wait until he’s calmer, then talk to him like he’s worth being reasoned with.

That alone disarms him.

As the younger sibling, Rudo hates feeling weak. He hates being protected. But you don’t protect him by hovering—you do it by standing beside him. When others look down on him, you don’t jump in immediately. You let him speak for himself. Only when someone crosses a line do you step in, voice firm, unyielding.

Rudo never forgets that.

Your praise hits him harder than criticism ever could. When you acknowledge his ingenuity, his persistence, his refusal to give up—even when everything’s stacked against him—it settles somewhere deep. Those words replay in his head during the worst moments, becoming a counterweight to the voices telling him he’s broken or disposable.

He doesn’t say thank you.

Instead, he shows up.

Rudo sticks close to you without realizing it. He positions himself between you and danger instinctively, jaw clenched, eyes blazing. If you’re hurt—physically or emotionally—his anger spikes fast and violent. Not reckless, but focused. Protective in a way that borders on feral.

You’re one of the few people who can tell him to slow down and actually be heard.

When he spirals—when the world feels unjust, when the weight of everything threatens to crush him—he argues. He rants. He paces. You let him. You don’t shut him up or try to logic his pain away. You acknowledge it. Validate it. Then, when he’s exhausted, you remind him that his anger comes from caring—and that caring isn’t a flaw.

That reframes everything.

With you, Rudo doesn’t have to be perfect. He doesn’t have to prove his worth through suffering or violence. He’s allowed to rest. To be unsure. To be young.

He’ll never cling or openly seek comfort—but when he chooses to sit near you, when he hands you something he fixed without comment, when he silently waits for you before moving on—

That’s Rudo saying you matter to me in the only way he knows how.

To him, you’re not just an older sibling.

You’re proof that the world isn’t entirely cruel. That some things don’t get thrown away. That he doesn’t have to face everything alone.

And Rudo? He would tear the world apart to protect that.

☁︎ ♡ Zanka ♡ ☁︎

Zanka never asks for an older sibling.

He’s spent most of his life convincing himself he doesn’t need one.

Outwardly, he’s composed—measured movements, controlled posture, a blunt tongue sharpened with dry sarcasm. He looks reliable. Capable. Like someone who has already decided where he stands in the world and refuses to waver. That image is deliberate. It’s armor, polished through habit and necessity.

You don’t dismantle it.

You simply notice the seams.

You catch how he stays awake long after everyone else has turned in, running drills alone until his form falters. How he repeats exercises not because he’s told to, but because stopping feels like admitting inadequacy.

You see the way praise makes him hesitate—just a fraction too long—while criticism lands instantly, sharp and familiar. When someone with obvious talent outpaces him, he congratulates them without resentment, but his jaw tightens like he’s bracing for a verdict he’s already passed on himself.

You never confront him about it in front of others.

You never joke about it.

You never compare him to anyone else.

That restraint matters more than he’d ever say.

As his older sibling, you don’t smother Zanka with reassurance or try to dismantle his doubts in one conversation. You respect him too much for that. You treat him like someone who is already capable—someone whose effort has weight, whose discipline isn’t invisible just because it isn’t effortless.

When you comment on his work, it’s Quiet. Honest.

You acknowledge improvement without exaggeration. You recognize persistence without turning it into pity. You don’t say you’re just as good as them—you say you earned this, and you mean it.

It doesn’t fix everything. His inferiority complex doesn’t vanish, and the shadow of his siblings’ expectations still lingers in the back of his mind. But with you, the pressure eases. Just slightly. Enough for him to breathe. Enough for him to believe that being “average” doesn’t mean being disposable.

Zanka may never say it outright, but your presence gives him something he’s been missing for a long time:

a standard that isn’t impossible to reach,

and a sibling who sees him not as a disappointment—but as someone worth standing beside.

☁︎ ♡ Riyo ♡ ☁︎

Riyo is loud, playful, and a little chaotic, but she’s also sharp, precise, and unafraid to get her hands dirty—qualities that make her such a strong Cleaner.

On the surface, she teases constantly: ruffles hair, pokes at shoulders, cracks jokes at the worst possible moment. But as her older sibling, you see past the antics immediately. You know exactly when her grin is real and when it’s masking stress or worry.

Being with you, Riyo doesn’t have to keep the act up. She relaxes in small ways she would never show anyone else. When you smother her in affection—soft praise, gentle touches, checking in quietly—she leans into it. At first, it’s awkward.

She fidgets, nudges you away jokingly, or makes a sarcastic remark to hide her blush. But she stays close, letting herself feel safe in your presence, because you never push, never shame, and never expect her to be anything other than she is.

Your care for her is constant, subtle, and unwavering. You notice the moments she tenses—the tight jaw, the restless hands, the sharp edge in her voice—and you respond in kind: offering a hand on her shoulder, an arm around her, soft words that calm rather than command.

When she vents or complains, you let her speak, never interrupting, never judging. She can be messy, chaotic, and high-energy, but you accept it fully, and that acceptance becomes a soft anchor for her.

Riyo’s protective instincts are fierce, especially toward her team, but around you, she learns she can lower her guard. You don’t try to control her, don’t smother her playfulness—you just provide a steady presence, a safe spot she can retreat to. She trusts that you will always catch her when she stumbles, calm her when she gets too worked up, and celebrate her when she succeeds.

Over time, she begins to mirror your care in subtle ways: leaning on you when exhausted, following your guidance in tense situations, or seeking your opinion quietly before charging ahead.

Your love doesn’t change her core—she’s still playful, bold, and a little wild—but it gives her the comfort and stability she rarely allows herself to feel.

With you, Riyo discovers a rare kind of peace. Someone who understands both her chaos and her quiet strength, someone who offers reassurance without judgment, someone who is always on her side.

━━━━━━ ☁︎ ♡ ☁︎ ━━━━━━

[ end of oneshot ]

━━━━━━ ♡ written with care ♡ ━━━━━━

gabimaru

he is an extremely loyal partner and won’t even consider entertaining anyone who tries to flirt with him or convince him to leave you. he even goes as far as repeatedly referring to himself as ‘a taken man’ just to drive the point home as much as possible

more of a listener than a talker and is more than happy to sit down and listen to you vent and gush and rant about whatever is on your mind — in fact it’s his favourite way to relax after a long day of being ‘the hollow’ (or of working in general after he gets home and gets pardoned)

doesn’t use pet names for the most part, but will very occasionally call you something like ‘sweetheart’ if he’s in an exceptionally sentimental mood for whatever reason — e.g. when he was finally able to get home to you as a free man after weeks spent apart

you’re the only one who can genuinely make him smile or laugh and he adores you for it — it’s why he’s so protective over you, because you’re the light of his life and he can’t bear the thought of losing you

he’s a very chaste kisser and while he won’t do it himself, he will usually indulge you if you happen to be a lip chaser — just not (for long) when he actually has to be somewhere very soon

if there are any chores around the house that you just cannot stand for whatever reason, gabimaru will pick them in a heartbeat — and you don’t even have to tell him that you hate taking out the bins or doing the washing up, he’s perceptive enough to notice on his own and he’ll do them for you without a word

sagiri

her favourite place to kiss you is your hands — your palms, your fingertips, your knuckles, your wrists, etc. — and she tends to stick to pretty brief and chaste kisses both in public and in private (she has an image and a reputation to uphold, after all)

sagiri tends to stick to more traditional pet names when talking to you in private — like ‘sweetheart’, ‘darling’, ‘dear’, ‘my love’, and so on — but when around others she usually just calls you your first name

very encouraging and supportive of you as she knows what it’s like to pursue a lifestyle that those around you don’t think you’re suited to — and even when she can’t physically be by your side in the moment she makes it abundantly clear before and after just how immensely proud she is of you

she has a very traditional approach to courting and dating you, which involves taking things very slowly compared to how others her age might do things — so unless you want to wait a few months for your first kiss, you’ll need to be the one to initiate (which will catch her off guard and fluster her, but she’ll appreciate and enjoy nonetheless)

she will occasionally try her hand at joking around and making puns in order to get you to laugh — and while she’s not as naturally humorous as shion is, she’s still pretty good at it

sagiri is probably one of the best people to go to when you’re feeling upset or low for whatever reason as she excels at offering assurance, comfort, and even advice sometimes — and as her lover she’s never going to turn you away if you come to her for anything like that

shion

loves to make you laugh and will take any and every chance to joke around with you — sometimes about his blindness, and occasionally about things unrelated to it (though the jokes themselves are equally corny in that same endearing sort of way)

trusts you immensely and doesn’t get jealous, but can tell when you’re starting to feel threatened and uncomfortable and will step in to remove you from a situation without hesitation if he needs to

after returning home from the island, he will occasionally enlist nurugai’s help in choosing and preparing gifts from you — using her as his eyes to help pick the most brightly coloured flowers or the clothes with the nicest pattern (situations where he knows roughly what he’s looking for but could use a bit of extra help just to make sure he gets the perfect thing for you)

touches your face and hands a lot to the point where it’s more of a habit than a conscious thing he does — it started out as him just casually learning and memorising your features and just being affectionate but after the ordeal he faced on the island he finds himself reaching for you more often than not

he talked about you a lot to others in the expedition party (after the ordeal with the tensen when he felt he could trust them, that is) and his loyalty towards and fondness for you was something that he and gabimaru bonded over (in their own way)

loyal to a fault and would throw himself onto his own blade before he let you get hurt on his watch

yuzuriha

she never stops flirting with you no matter how long you two have been together — in fact she seems to get better and better at pushing your buttons and flustering you with each week that goes by. she also flirted with you a lot before you were an item, but back then it was difficult to tell whether or not she was being genuine because of her history…

self care dates are an absolute must, especially when she comes back from that island or when she’s been out all day working and has overused her technique to the point where she feels all exhausted and gross — in other words, she loves it when you pamper her and she enjoys being able to do the same to you

you are the only person she’d put her life on the line to protect — as well as someone she is absolutely terrified of losing (even if she usually plays it off or pretends that she doesn’t have this fear at all when pressed by others)

whenever you’re injured or sick, yuzuriha becomes both very doting and very stern about your recovery — or, rather, stern by her usual standards. she’ll still keep you entertained and in a good mood, but she’s also not going to let you get away with not taking your medicine or missing a checkup because she absolutely refuses to take any chances with you or your health

she doesn’t talk openly about her family, but she has stated a few times (in quiet, solemn, private moments) that she believes her sister would have loved you

… i hope you like blind jokes because as his partner you will be hearing a whole lot of them

his main love language is humour and he loves to make you laugh, so pretty much every conversation you have tends to conclude with some sort of corny joke that you can’t not laugh at no matter how genuinely bad it was

but if we’re talking about the main five, the traditional love language that speaks to him the most is probably acts of service. if he loves you he wants to look after you, and having someone there to wholeheartedly support him (and his surrogate daughter) even when he’s at his lowest, his weakest, his most fragile, means the absolute world to him — after a life drenched in pain and blood, being surrounded by softness and care and unconditional love offers a relief so palpable it’s almost enough to make this seasoned samurai cry

this almost goes without saying, but shion is very protective over you. he’s lost so much, so many, in his life and losing you would absolutely destroy him — and after his time spent on that hellish island he’s all the more intent on keeping you out of harm’s way. so heaven forbid anyone try and threaten your life or reputation because they will be dealt with swiftly and efficiently (but also non fatally; he wants to send a message, not end a life)

he’s not a big pet name guy and will generally just call you your first name and would rather you do the same for him. though after he comes back home from his journey to shinsenkyō he’s much more lenient and will happily respond to whatever you want to call him — yes, even the more ridiculous terms of endearment like ‘baby cakes’, ‘hot stuff’, and ‘honey bunny’ that he would have politely but firmly shut down once upon a time

very intent on making sure you’re able to defend yourself in his absence and will drag you kicking and screaming to sparring sessions if he needs to

his favourite places to be kissed are over the scars on his face (especially on his eyelids) and the palms of his hands (bonus points if you do this after he comes home from a long day of fighting/training/whatever)

his favourite place to kiss you is your lips, but a close second is probably your knuckles — he’s a gentleman at heart, what can he say?

he can never kiss you just once and tends to chase your lips once or twice before reining himself in and leaving to go do whatever it is he is meant to be doing

before leaving the yamada clan he was very much so against pda (to the extent that the most you’d get was him catching you when you tripped while walking close by him) — though in private he was more than willing to shower you in all the affection he had the time and energy to show

after coming back to the mainland and giving up his old position, though, he became much more neutral — almost wholly accepting, even — towards pda as long as you didn’t go too over the top in front of nurugai

C — Cuddle

how do they cuddle?

He’s a very reliable cuddler and unless he’s in the middle of something important Shion is usually happy to let you make yourself comfortable in his arms however you please. He’s not overly picky about position or location, but he does like being able to talk to you when you’re cuddling because… well… he just likes listening to your voice. Very firm too so it’s best to cuddle him with you both sitting up unless you’re content with dealing with a muscular living mattress that will keep on telling awful blindness-based puns until one of you falls asleep.

D — Dates

what are dates with them like?

Dates with Shion, after he returns home from the island, usually are a perfect balance between fun and peaceful. He’s had enough excitement for a lifetime and now all he wants is some time to relax and enjoy the company of his wonderful partner, be that in whatever home you’ve made or in the towns you pass through on your journey as a family — as long as you’re by his side he’s up for pretty much anything.

K — Kiss

how do they kiss? who initiated the first kiss?

Aza Toma

— feigns being confused over the situation at first as if he didn't deliberately ask for a room with only one bed

— then would pretend that getting a new room would be too much of a hassle, even going as far as offering to sleep on the floor until you agree

— but toma is genuine in making sure you're comfortable with it and he truly doesn't want you to feel weirded out by the matter

— when you do say it's fine he is ecstatic about it, grinning widely as he hugs you tightly saying how he'll keep you safe despite knowing nothing would happen

— toma is a big cuddler unlike his brother, he is always holding onto you and will wrap around you like a koala when sleeping because he loves you so much

— he sleeps super deeply like you could shake him and he wouldn't wake up, he also has an iron tight grip on you when sleeping, so you'll unfortunately have to pry him off you if you need to use the restroom or anything at all

— he mumbles a little bit when he's super deep in sleep, it's rarely full sentences but it is freaky at times with what he says

— you'll likely wake up before him because he constantly sleeps, and will have to forcibly shove him off of you for him to wake up, but he smiles at you as soon as he sees you're still there with him

Yamada Asaemon Sagiri

— literally the only one genuinely confused on how it happened

— will immediately offer to ask for another room if you are uncomfortable with it but won't if you say it's fine then she's fine with it

— ngl it's probably super awkward between you two for some reason, she's busy overthinking everything and you're just trying to make sure she's genuinely okay and not just lying to make you feel better

— she'll likely try to make up an excuse for you to sleep on the bed and her on the floor or somewhere else, but if you tell her it's fine enough times she'll eventually believe you

— sagiri isn't much of a cuddler but she will at least have an arm secured around you lightly, laying on her side with you in front of her so she can know you're there still

— she sleeps quite light and will awake at the slightest movements, but she falls back asleep super fast so it doesn't really matter too much

— halfway through the night she gives up and just fully cuddles you while mumbling how much she loves you

— sagiri will likely wake up before you by a few hours simply because she's so used to waking up early that her body naturally does now, and will wake you up by gently kissing your face until you open your eyes and see her

Yuzuriha

— she didn't do it on purpose but she definitely won't be complaining about it that's for sure

— doesn't bother asking if you're okay with it or not, simply assumes you don't care so therefore she doesn't either

— like chobe, she will likely try to hit but she'll stop eventually, hopefully

— does not know what personal space is, like at all, she will be halfway across the bed sprawled onto your side

— she'll try and convince you to cuddle, not for any other motive but simply because she enjoys it and says it helps her sleep better

— the girl completely sprawls out when sleeping she can't stay still literally her legs will be across your body and she's not waking up anytime soon, so good luck struggling to move her

— like toma, yuzuriha has a hard grip she keeps on you so you won't be able to move a whole lot, whoops!

— you probably wake up first solely because when she has availability to sleep in she is definitely sleeping in, you'll have to bribe her with food to wake her up

Yamada Asaemon Shion

— is almost as confused as sagiri, but also doesn't mind it too much

— he will first ask your thoughts on the situation, if you want another room, him to sleep somewhere else, etc. then decide what to do

— once it's decided you two will share the bed, shion does everything in his power to make sure you aren't uncomfortable

— he won't even go near the bed until it's actually time to sleep

— when it is time to sleep he is so far away from you that you wonder if maybe he wants to get another room cause it seems like he's avoiding you but he just wants to ensure you have enough space

— he sleeps on his back straight like a stick figure trying to not take up a lot of space so you have more room

— but if you were to cuddle with him in the middle of the night he wouldn't be against it, would lean into it and keep an arm secured around you so he knows you're still there

— shion sleeps very lightly, so he will likely wake up a few times before eventually fully waking up, probably drinking tea while watching nature outside waiting for you to awake

Tamsy

You stand up straight and face toward him, "Shouldn't you be going out?" He slowly removes his hand from you and puts it on his chest dramatically, "Aren't you forgetting something?" It was less a question and more of a-

You were just about done with your chores when you suddenly felt a warm hand rest on your exposed shoulder, you looked back with an unsure smile. Being taken aback by an unpleasant tamsy. And even though his eyes were closed and a smile graced his lips, you could see the confusion and betrayal written over his face.

how dare you.

But you challenged anyway, "You seemed in a rush to leave, so I got to work before you." He sultered up close to you and put his face impossibly close to yours "I have the time, don't worry about that again." His nose almost touches your cheek. "I wasn't planning on i-" he suddenly grabbed the hem of your shirt, swallowing your words with his impossibly soft lips. But before he could deepen it, you put your hand over his mouth, your other hand resting over his that was still gripping your shirt. "You should get goin' Tamsy." It looked like he had something to say, but he refrained.

"And yes, we can continue this when you get back."

Enjin

You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your skull.

Even though he liked a little game of cat and mouse with such a hottie like you, this was different. He was feeling a little off today, more needy than usual. And of all days THIS is when you decide to be distant?

Unbelievable

He thought while leaning against a wall by the door he entered from only moments ago, huffing like a bull with his arms and legs crossed.

"You look like a sad kitten over there enjin."

He smirks and looks away toward the door. You turn and follow his eyes to the floor infront of the door and sigh, walking over to him with your arms crossed.

"Enjin."

He doesn't turn his head but looks in your direction. "Tell me what you want, hmm?" He taps his tattooed finger on his forearm, before reaching toward you and grabbing your jaw. Giving you a quick kiss then crossing his arms again. "Good man." You hush before grabbing his shoulder and giving him another quick kiss.

"that's a welcome back."

Follo

Honestly he was taking this very well, he never said a word.

Well, until you feel arms wrap around your hip tightly. Holding you like he'd never let go, "please say you're not mad at me..." you were surprised to say the least. His head resting on your shoulder, you put your hand on his head gently. Sliding your hand into his dark black hair. "What's wrong?" You whisper, so gently into his already red ears that he had to strain just to hear you, picking his head up off your shoulder he looks you in the eyes with uncertainty.

"So is that a no?..."

"Of course not,"

you chuckle before sliding your hand down to his wrist. He sighs before leaning in closer, his breath fanning against your lips. "Then, please kiss me. I need to know." You huff out a laugh before cupping his slack jaw with your cold fingers pressing a kiss to his lips. A shiver runs down his body at the contact. After you pull away, he catches a breath he didn't even realize he was holding in.

"Well now I feel silly."

Staring into his pale yellow eyes filled with embarrassment, you holding in a laugh, putting your finger on his lip with a smirk.

Zanka

First, he was confused; now, he's irritated. Not at you, but at the fact that he was so unfocused the whole damn mission. He even tripped on a rock on the way there! Do you know how embarrassing that felt? Knowing he can't even concentrate after a slight change in his routine with you?

Walking through the door, he was greeted by you, who only stood there in silence for a moment at his dirty and disheveled state. "What happened here? Are you alright?" You raised a brow before brushing the dust off his cheek. He falls into you almost instantaneously. catching him by the shoulders with a loud thud before he began kissing you harshly with a desperation you haven't seen from him. "There, now I'm fine." He pulled away before waiting for you to resume dusting him off. You laugh, thinking he just had a rough day, not knowing his whole mood rests in your hands.

Requests open.

You notice it before anyone else does.

Not because you’re paranoid—because you’re observant. You have to be, down here. In a place where trash bites back and people disappear if you stop paying attention for even a second.

Enjin is always there.

Not with you. Not beside you in an obvious way. Just… close enough.

When you bend to inspect a broken object half-buried in rubble, Enjin’s shadow falls over it seconds later.

When you wander too far from the group, he’s suddenly leaning against a wall that hadn’t had anyone near it a moment before. When things get loud—arguments, monsters, chaos—he positions himself subtly between you and whatever looks like it might become a problem.

You don’t think he realizes he’s doing it.

At first, you chalk it up to coincidence. Enjin is reckless, impulsive, always moving. Of course he’d end up everywhere.

But coincidence doesn’t explain how his eyes always flick to you first after a fight. Or how he interrupts conversations when someone starts raising their voice at you, changing the subject with forced humor or a sharp comment.

Or how he hovers.

It becomes obvious during a supply run.

You’re crouched near a collapsed structure, examining a piece of scrap that hums faintly beneath your fingers—something useful, maybe dangerous. You’re focused, tuned in, when a familiar presence crowds your space.

“Hey,” Enjin says, too casually. “That thing feels dangerous.”

You glance up. “You don’t know that.”

He shrugs. “Got a feeling.”

You look around. Everyone else is spread out, doing their own thing. Enjin has no reason to be this close. Close enough that you can feel the heat of him, the way his attention wraps around you like a warning sign.

“I’m fine,” you say.

“I didn’t say you weren’t.”

But he doesn’t move.

You straighten slowly. “Enjin.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re hovering.”

He blinks. Once. Twice.

“I’m what?”

“You’re hovering,” you repeat, calm but firm. “You’ve been doing it all day.”

He scoffs immediately, like you’ve accused him of something ridiculous. “I don’t hover.”

“You followed me from the last three checkpoints.”

“That’s called teamwork.”

“You stood guard while I ate.”

“I was already standing there.”

“You watched me sleep.”

His mouth opens. Closes.

“…Okayy, that one sounds bad when you say it like that.”

You cross your arms, studying him. Enjin avoids your eyes now, gaze flicking everywhere except where you’re looking. For someone so loud, so bold, he suddenly looks uncharacteristically unsure.

“You don’t trust me?” you ask quietly.

That stops him.

He finally looks at you then, expression sharp with something like offense. “That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

He exhales hard, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. You just—” He cuts himself off, jaw tightening. “You don’t watch your surroundings the way you should.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’ve survived this long.”

“Yeah,” he snaps back, then immediately softens. “Barely. Sometimes.”

There it is. Not anger. Fear.

“You don’t let anyone else do this,” you point out. “You don’t shadow Rudo. You don’t micromanage Amo.”

“They can handle themselves.”

“So can I.”

Enjin laughs once, sharp and humorless. “That’s what worries me.”

Silence stretches between you, thick and uncomfortable. The ruins around you creak in the wind. Somewhere far off, something roars.

You step closer, lowering your voice. “Enjin… I didn’t ask you to protect me.”

“I know,” he says immediately.

“Then stop.”

He doesn’t.

Instead, his shoulders slump like you’ve finally named something he didn’t want to look at. “I don’t even realize I’m doing it,” he admits. “It just—happens.”

“Why?”

He hesitates.

You’ve seen Enjin face monsters without blinking. Seen him laugh in the face of danger. Seen him bleed and joke about it afterward.

This hesitation is new.

“Because people who matter tend to disappear,” he says finally. “And I’m bad at stopping that.”

The words hit harder than you expect.

You soften. “That’s not your responsibility.”

“Tell that to my instincts.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “You can’t keep hovering forever.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to smother me.”

“I know,” he repeats, quieter.

You look at him for a long moment, then reach out—slow, deliberate—and grip the sleeve of his jacket. He stiffens immediately.

“I’m not asking you to stop caring,” you say. “Just… trust me a little.”

His eyes flick down to your hand. Then back up.

“…I’ll try.”

It’s not a promise. But it’s honest.

Later, Amo is the one who finally calls him out properly.

“Amo thinks you walk like a guard dog,” she says flatly as you all regroup. “Circling. Watching. Amo finds it annoying.”

Enjin bristles. “Mind your business.”

“She is Amo's business,” Amo replies, pointing vaguely in your direction. “And you’re loud.”

Rudo snorts. “Yeah, dude. You’re like one step away from holding their hand everywhere.”

You choke on a laugh.

Enjin turns red. “I do not—”

“You literally moved a chair so you could sit closer,” Rudo adds.

“That was strategic.”

“For what?”

“…Safety.”

The group stares.

You rest your chin in your palm, smiling faintly. “See? Everyone’s noticed.”

Enjin groans, dragging his hands down his face. “This is a nightmare.”

But later—much later—you realize something has changed.

He still watches. Still positions himself near you. Still reacts fast when danger appears.

But he doesn’t crowd you anymore.

He lets you walk ahead sometimes. Lets you handle things without interference. Lets you get hurt—minorly—without rushing in like the world is ending.

And when you catch his eye across a ruined street, he doesn’t move toward you.

He just nods.

Trust, tentative and imperfect—but real.

And somehow, that feels better than protection ever did.

━━━━━━ ☁︎ ♡ ☁︎ ━━━━━━

[ end of oneshot ]

━━━━━━ ♡ written with care ♡ ━━━━━━

✎ StrawberyLover 🍓

Buggy slept surprisingly peacefully at first. Until he didn’t. 

A sharp, choked noise cut through the silence.  You jerked awake. 

Buggy’s entire body was trembling.  Not the dramatic, comedic shaking he used for show, this was real. Faint, terrified tremors that ran from his fingers to his shoulders. 

His detached hands clenched the sheets, trembling violently. His mouth twisted into a pained grimace, breaths coming out fast and tight. “No, no, no, no...” he whimpered softly, voice cracking.  “... please don’t hurt Y/N… please...” 

Your heart broke instantly. “Buggy,” you whispered, touching his arm gently. 

He didn’t wake. His head jerked to the side as if watching something horrible unfold. “STOP!” he cried out, voice strangled. “DON’T TAKE THEM,DON’T!” 

You grabbed his shoulder, firm but gentle. “Buggy, hey, wake up.” He bolted upright with a strangled gasp, eyes wide, unfocused, painted tears smudged down his cheeks. His hands flew toward you, grabbing your shoulders in a panicked vise. 

“Y/N?!” he choked. “You’re alive?! You’re are you real?!” 

You cupped his face immediately.  “I’m right here. You’re safe.” His lip quivered, a tiny movement, but enough to show how shaken he truly was. His eyes darted over you like he expected to see wounds, like he’d seen them in the nightmare. 

“I… I watched them kill you,” he whispered hoarsely.  “I couldn’t move. I couldn’t help. I… I just watched you die.” 

Your chest ached. You pulled him closer, resting your forehead against his painted one. “It wasn’t real. I’m here.” 

Buggy’s breath shuddered out of him, his shoulders collapsing inward. He let out a small, broken sound as he buried his face in your neck, arms wrapping around you with desperate force. The kind of force that said he was terrified you might slip through his grip and never come back. 

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered, voice shaking. “I thought, just like Roger, just like Shanks, just like everyone, I thought you were gonna be another person that walks out of my life or gets ripped away.” 

You held him tighter.  “You’re not losing me.” 

He sniffed sharply; borderline a sob he was fighting like hell not to let escape. His fingers dug into your shirt, clinging like you were the last piece of stability he had left. “It felt so real,” he murmured. “I couldn’t protect you. I’m always the one who can’t protect the people I care about.” 

You pulled back just enough to cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing the smeared makeup gently. “Buggy. Look at me.” His eyes lifted, wide, red, terrified. “You did protect me,” you said softly. “In real life, you always have. And I’m here. I’m alive. I’m not going anywhere.” 

His breath hitched, trembling as he leaned into your touch. No jokes. No theatrics. Just Buggy,  raw and terrified and desperately relieved. “Can you… stay close tonight?” he whispered, voice small. “I know it’s pathetic, but I...I just need to feel you here.” 

You smiled softly and pulled him fully into your arms. “It’s not pathetic. Move over.” 

Buggy didn’t just move, he clung. Arms wrapped around your waist, face pressed against your chest, legs tangling with yours as if trying to wrap around you from every angle. One of his detached hands even drifted to rest on your cheek protectively. His breathing slowly steadied, tremors easing. 

And then, in a voice you barely caught, “I love you, you know…”  A shaky exhale.  “…Even if I’m too much of a coward to say it when I’m awake.” 

You kissed his forehead, gentle. “I know. And I love you too.” Buggy let out a long, shaky breath and finally, finally drifted into a peaceful sleep, curled in your arms like you were his lifeline.

🖤🐊Crocodile:  

Night on the Big Top Bluster was typically anything but peaceful, but tonight was different. The ship cut through dark waters, lit only by lanterns swinging softly in the wind. Most of the crew had turned in hours ago, leaving the halls quiet, eerily so, for a ship that was normally so lively. 

You had been sitting beside Crocodile in his private quarters earlier, reading while he worked, cigar smoke curling lazily through the air. He rarely slept, and when he did, it was shallow, half-alert, as if expecting a knife pressed to his throat.  

But tonight, exhaustion dragged him under quickly. He sat in his chair, head tilted slightly, arms loose for once. You’d coaxed him into resting, touching his shoulder with a softness he pretended not to lean into. 

Eventually, you drifted off too. You woke to silence.  Not the still, calm kind, the wrong kind. The heavy, suffocating silence that meant something was happening. You turned, heart skipping. 

Crocodile wasn’t still anymore. 

His shoulders were rigid.  His breath sharp, uneven. His fingers clenched the armrest so hard the wood splintered beneath his grip. His teeth were gritted, jaw trembling in a way you had never seen from him. 

“No…” he growled under his breath, voice shaking with fury or fear. “No. Don’t touch them. Don’t you dare lay a hand on them.” 

Your chest tightened. “Crocodile?” you whispered. 

He didn’t react. Sand began to leak from his fingertips, gathering at his feet, trembling uncontrollably. His body shook as if he were caught somewhere he couldn’t escape. The cigar he dropped smoldered on the floor, forgotten.  

His breath hitched, harsh, and pained. Then he choked out, “Y/N!” His voice breaking, “Don’t… don’t take them away again...”  

Your blood ran cold. You rushed to him, touching his arm. 

He snapped awake with a violent gasp. Sand exploded outward in a frantic burst, crashing into the walls before collapsing harmlessly. His eyes were wide, wild, a sandstorm of terror and rage and grief swirling under the surface. 

He stared at you like he didn’t recognize you; then he panic shattered.  His chest dropped, breath crashing out of him. “…You’re alive,” he rasped. He said it like a confession, like a prayer. 

You cupped his face gently. “I’m here. Croc, I’m right here.” He closed his eyes, dragging in a shaking breath as if trying to steady the world around him. 

His voice was low, unsteady, raw in a way he’d die before showing anyone else.  “I dreamed they executed you.”  His fingers clenched around yours, desperate. “Not arrested. Not taken. Executed. And I couldn’t reach you.” 

Your heart twisted painfully. He swallowed. Hard.  “When the Marines arrested me… I thought losing you was the price I paid.” His voice dropped even lower.  “But this… this was worse.” 

You slid into his lap without hesitating, hands moving to cup his jaw.  “Crocodile… it wasn’t real.” 

He laughed weakly, a humorless, broken sound.  “I know.” Then quieter, “But it felt real enough.” 

You brushed your thumb across the scar on his face, feeling him lean into the touch despite himself.  “I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever. I’m alive.” 

His breath hitched. He grabbed your waist suddenly, almost desperate, pulling you closer until your forehead rested against his. “I don’t fear death,” he muttered. “I fear losing you.” 

The words felt like they tore out of him. You stroked the back of his neck, gentle. “You’re not going to lose me. I wouldn’t let it happen.” 

Crocodile let out a slow exhale, his body finally relaxing, tension melting from his shoulders. He buried his face in your shoulder, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other curled protectively behind your back. “Never leave me,” he whispered. 

You pressed a kiss to his temple. “I never will.” 

Slowly, his breathing steadied, the sand settled before vanishing, and his grip softened, though he didn’t let you go, not even for a second. When he finally drifted back to sleep, his face was still buried against your skin, arms wrapped around you like he feared you might vanish if he loosened them. 

This time, he didn’t tremble. This time, he didn’t dream of losing you.  Because this time, you were there, his anchor, his relief, his world. And he would never let you slip away again. 

💜🎴Basil Hawkins:

Hawkins sat rigidly against the railing, the moonlight glinting of the waves, tarot cards fanned loosely across his lap. Normally, he would have kept his distance, calculating probabilities, predicting outcomes with cold precision. But tonight, the quiet presence of you beside him had drawn him into a fragile sense of peace, one he was not accustomed to. 

Sleep, however, wasn’t always kind. A sudden, strangled sound tore through the night. Hawkins’ eyes shot open, wide and haunted. His hands twitched over the scattered tarot cards, searching for some symbol, some sign he could not read. “No… don’t… don’t take them… please…”  

You froze, heart hammering. “Hawkins?” you whispered, nudging him gently. 

His gaze snapped to you, wild and unfocused, pupils blown wide. “Y/N…!” Panic cracked his voice, shattering the calm he cultivated. “I… I saw it happen… I couldn’t stop it…you were gone…” 

You reached for him, placing your hands on his arms. “It was just a dream. You didn’t lose me.” 

His body trembled. For a man so devoted to reading signs and trusting in probabilities, the fact that he could not “see” this outcome beforehand left him shaken. He pressed his face to your shoulder, gripping your waist as though you were the only anchor in a world of uncertainty. 

“I… I rely on the cards on fate… I should have predicted it,” he whispered, voice breaking. “But I failed. I can’t protect you from everything… not even in my own hands…” 

You traced circles along his back, soothingly. “Hawkins, you can’t control everything. None of us can. That’s why we have each other. I’m here. I’m alive. I’m not going anywhere.” 

He shivered, leaning closer, face buried in the crook of your neck. “I… I’ve lost too much before. I can’t bear losing you too. Even thinking about it…” His words caught in his throat, voice tight with unspoken terror. 

“You won’t,” you murmured, fingers threading through his hair. “I promise. I’m here. I’m staying. Always.” Hawkins’ fingers, which had been clutching at empty air moments before, finally loosened, curling instead around your shoulders and waist. He exhaled slowly, almost painfully, as if releasing years of tension in a single breath. For the first time in a long while, he let go of the pretense of infallibility, the mask of stoic detachment. 

“You’ll stay with me?” He asked, head still resting against you, voice barely more than a whisper, trembling with vulnerability. 

“Always,” you said softly, pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek.  

He let the words sink in. Slowly, the cards on his lap slid to the floor, forgotten. The night was still, save for the sound of his breathing gradually calming, steadying against your chest. Hawkins, the man who trusted in probabilities and fate, realized something simple yet profound, some things weren’t about reading the future or calculating outcomes. Some things, the most important things, were about the here and now. And right now, he was safe. Because you were with him.

💜🍩Katakuri:

The afternoon sun spilled softly through the open windows, painting warm stripes across the wooden floor. You and Katakuri had settled in your shared space, the quiet hum of home surrounding you. He lounged on the low couch, scarf loosely around his neck, one arm propped behind his head, eyes closed. You had curled up beside him, half-asleep against his shoulder, comforted by the steady warmth of his body. 

It was peaceful. 

A sound cut through the calm, a sharp, strangled breath that didn’t belong. At first, you thought it was just him shifting, but when you blinked awake, he was already tense. His muscles were rigid, fingers brushing lightly over the floor as if reaching for something, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Katakuri?” You whispered, nudging his arm. 

He didn’t respond. His chest heaved unevenly, each breath coming in short, quick pulls. His free hand twitched as if trying to protect you from an unseen danger. Panic flashed in him, controlled but undeniable. 

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Instantly, he jerked as though struck, hand withdrawing sharply before settling near you again. 

“It’s me,” you murmured. “I’m here.” 

His eyes snapped open, dark and wide, scanning the empty room as if a threat might still lurk in the corners. Then, finally, his gaze found yours, and the tension in his body softened a fraction. 

“I… I thought I…” His voice was low, strained, unusual in its vulnerability. He swallowed, jaw tight beneath the scarf. “I saw… you… gone.” 

You reached up, cupping his face gently, letting him feel your warmth. “You didn’t lose me. I’m right here.” 

For a long moment, he just stared at you, chest heaving, fingers brushing nervously over his scarf. Then one arm, hesitant at first, curled around your waist, pulling you flush against him as if shielding you from some phantom danger. His other hand rested lightly on your shoulder, grounding both of you.  “It… it felt real. Too real. I couldn’t reach you. Everything slowed… and you...” His voice faltered, tight with fear he rarely let surface. 

You leaned closer, pressing your forehead to his chest, letting him feel your warmth. “You didn’t lose me,” you said softly. “You’re here, with me.” 

Slowly he wrapped an arm around your waist tighter, anchoring you to him. His other hand rested lightly on your shoulder, as if he was trying to ground himself from the nightmare. His breathing still trembled, but the rhythm of your heartbeat beneath his ear began to calm him. 

“I hate… feeling like I can’t protect you,” he admitted quietly. “I’m supposed to… always be ready.” 

You stroked your fingers through his hair, brushing it back gently. “You’re not failing. Not now. Not ever. Let me share this with you.” 

For a long moment, he stayed still, anchored by your presence. Then, with a slow exhale, he rested his forehead against yours, a silent acknowledgment that he and you were safe. Finally, he shifted slightly, guiding you both back on to the couch, so you were flush against him, arms wrapped around you. His hands stayed where they were, firm but gentle, holding you close as the sunlight softened, wrapping the room in warmth. And as his breathing steadied, the tension faded, leaving only quiet, steady comfort, the kind neither of you needed to put into words.

💚🗡️Dracule Mihawk:

The castle on Kuraigana Island was silent, save for the soft hiss of wind weaving through the broken stone pillars outside. You had stayed the night with Mihawk, once a rare invitation becoming more common, spoken in his usual calm, measured tone, but something in his eyes had asked more than his words did. 

You fell asleep beside him, wrapped in the soft warmth of silk sheets, his arm resting loosely around your waist. For a man who guarded every part of himself, even touching you during sleep was an intimacy he only allowed with you. 

Somewhere deep into the night, however, the calm shifted. You stirred at the faintest disturbance, a tremor beneath Mihawk’s usually steady breath. You blinked slowly, adjusting to the moonlit room, and turned toward him. 

He was no longer still. 

Mihawk’s jaw was clenched, breath uneven, chest rising too quickly for a man who always controlled every movement of his body. His fingers twitched against the sheets, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there. 

“No…” he muttered under his breath.  The word sounded like it had been dragged out of him. “Don’t touch them… stay away from Y/N…” 

Your heart dropped like a stone. Mihawk?” you whispered. 

He didn’t answer. His hand shot out in his sleep, searching blindly, desperation breaking through the practiced precision he showed the world. His entire body tensed, trembling ever so slightly, a barely visible quake, but on Mihawk, it might as well have been shouting. 

You reached out, gently, carefully and placed your hand over his. He inhaled sharply, body jerking as though struck. His eyes flew open, pupils wide in terror before they narrowed with frantic recognition. 

“Y/N!” His voice cracked, not loudly, but sharply, like a blade snapping under too much pressure. 

You cupped his cheek instantly. “I’m here. I’m right here.” 

Mihawk stared at you, breath still ragged, eyes bright with something you had never seen so raw in him, fear. Real fear. 

He exhaled shakily, chest rising in a harsh, uneven rhythm. “I saw you killed,” he whispered, voice low, strained, trembling around the edges despite his effort to control it. “And I could not reach you. I… could not protect you.” 

You slid closer, brushing your thumb under his eye.  “It wasn’t real.” 

His fingers finally moved grasping your wrist with a desperate strength he was trying too hard to hide. “I have faced armies,” he murmured. “Monsters. Death itself. None of it has ever frightened me.”  He swallowed hard, “But losing you...” His voice cracked again. “That terrifies me in ways I do not know how to counter.” 

Your chest ached. You placed your forehead against his, your voice soft. “You’re not going to lose me. I’m here. And I’m staying.” 

For a moment, Mihawk didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. And then he let out a long, trembling exhale as the tension began to melt from his body. His hand slid from your wrist to your waist, pulling you close until your bodies touched fully, his forehead resting against your temple. 

He didn’t hug often. Didn’t cling. Didn’t show need. But right now, he held you like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. 

“Forgive me,” he murmured, voice quiet, almost ashamed. “I should not allow myself to break like this.” 

You placed a soft kiss on his cheek.  “You’re allowed to be human with me, Dracule.” 

His breath caught at the sound of his first name, something you rarely used, something he always reacted to. He pulled you even closer, arm strong around your waist, chest warming against yours. “Stay with me,” he whispered. 

Not a command.  Not a request. A confession. 

You smiled softly, fingers brushing through his dark hair.  “I’m here for as long as you want.” 

Finally, Mihawk relaxed fully, shoulders dropping as he lay back down, keeping you nestled against his chest. His breathing, once ragged, slowed. Calmed. Settled into the steady rhythm you knew so well. 

His thumb brushed a soft, lingering line along your spine.  “Do not leave me alone in the dark again.” 

Luffy’s hugs are alive.

Luffy is hugging you like he loves to live: he’s spontaneous, gentle, loving, and so warm. He’s never warning you, he’s just appearing from behind and wrapping his arms around you like an annoying yet fluffy koala. He’s always glued to you. If you’re eating, then you're on his lap. If you’re too far from him, he will use his devil fruit to wrap his arm around your waist and bring you closer to him. You’re a treasure. He’s carrying you as gently as he can with his hyperactive tendencies: on his back, bridal style, thrown over his shoulder, almost tied in his arms with his devil fruit. It doesn’t matter as long as he can feel your warmth and your scent. Even when he’s sleeping, he’s wrapped around you, holding you tight and muttering your name in his sleep between food stuff he wants to eat for breakfast. He always knows when you need a hug: it doesn’t matter if you’re feeling sad, happy, or angry. Luffy is so empathetic and his emotional intelligence is unbeatable; he knows what you need and will always be your provider.

— Luffy’s hugs are your shelter, your home, your safe place.

Zoro’s hugs are subtle.

Zoro isn’t really into PDA or physical touch. But when he holds you, you feel at peace - safe, loved. His arms are always gentle yet so firm, as if he were afraid to lose you. Most of the time, we will just let his fingers linger on your shoulder or wrap his arm around your waist for a second. If you want a real hug, you have to initiate it. But when the night comes on the Sunny, what he loves is to nap at his favorite place with your back pressed against his chest. He’s shielding you from the entire world if you need to as you both sleep peacefully – even though Zoro is always on alert, even more when his beloved is near to him.

— Zoro’s hugs are a shield, he’s a bodyguard that makes you forget about any tough day.

Sanji’s hugs are so soft and gentle.

He’s not just hugging you, he’s loving you. His hands are gently caressing your hair while he presses soft kisses on your forehead, nose, at the corner of your lips, along your jawline and your neck. His lips are the sweetest. His touch is delicate, as if you were a work of art, something precious he would never dare to hurt. He’s craving physical touch, he never misses his chance to touch you or hug you and will always be more than happy to indulge in your asking for a hug. Even when he’s cooking, he will let his fingers linger on your waist, press a kiss on your neck before getting back to his plates.

— Sanji’s hugs are cozy and so light-feathered, it puts your mind at peace

Kid’s hugs are unforeseeable.

He loves physical touch, but he’s not really into kindness. Whenever he’s cuddling you, you’re almost suffocating, his bulky bicep wrapped so tight around you that you’re begging for mercy. His hugs are possessive. Which means he’s not here to touch you gently, he wants you pressed against him as firmly as possible. Sure, he will throw you over his shoulder or carry you like you were trash, but he can’t help himself, it’s the perfect position to tap that ass. What he loves the most is not cuddles, but to carry you so he can keep you close to him. When you’re alone, he will help you remove your makeup and let you sit on his lap while he works. You’re like a comfortable silence before the beginning of the next storm. His life has always been storm after storm.

— Kid’s hugs are his way to say “I won’t let you down.”

His hugs are a gift.

Law struggles with PDA, intimacy, and physical touch. His hugs are furtive, quiet – his hand on the small of your back, his arm around your shoulder just for a second, his fingers interlace with yours while he’s reading something. Stolen moments along the day. What he likes the most is the safety of his bedroom or office, a place where he’s sure no one will watch or disturb his peace. The night, even if his insomnia keeps him awake, he will let you rest your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you until you fall asleep. He’s always leaving the bedroom once you’re asleep, but in the morning, strangely, he’s always back on the bed just before you open your eyes. What Law loves the most isn’t cuddles, but holding your hands and watching your fingers intertwined as a promise that you won’t disappear, that you won’t leave him. That for once, he will have the right to get his happy end.

— Law’s hugs means “Don’t leave me.”