MK's girlfriend (Arfyy)

"Okay! Now it's Amo's turn to do yours!"

Enjin

✦ ── If he's the shitty adoptive father doing his best, you're the perfect image of a caring mother who can't seem to fail. Honestly, he's envious of how much the others respect you. Why don't they treat him that way? Damn brats.

✦ ── But all that jealousy easily turns to pride because you're his partner. His amazing, insanely talented, and wonderfully beloved partner. Damn right everyone likes you!

✦ ── Seeing you all cutesy with the kids, especially those on Akuta, makes him melt. They all trust you a lot, and you care for them in ways he isn't really sure how to provide—mainly emotionally.

✦ ── Does it worry him that you own apart of the Watchman series and he still doesn't know what it does? Yes. But he trusts you with its power, whatever that may be.

✦ ── When he does find out your instrument allows you to manipulate and sway people, he is a bit uncomfortable with the idea. But after seeing it in use, at his request, he understands you would never abuse its power. Still, he urges you to rely on it less. You're good at what you do without it, anyway.

"Tch. Damn brats." Enjin scoffed under his breath, watching as Riyo and Rudo walked away from you. They'd interrupted your date just to see you and didn't so much as spare him a glance.

But seeing you so giddy, even after they left, made him forget any frustration bubbling up.

His frown turned to a grin when you shot him a look, scratching the back of his head. Shame? Nah. He wasn't afraid to let you know it bothered him.

"I'm locking the damn door. No more interruptions."

Rudo

✦ ── Any act of affection you show him overwhelms him. From anything small, like bringing him snacks when he hasn't eaten yet, to washing his gloves for him so it doesn't hurt as much, it all leaves him speechless.

✦ ── Lashes out at pretty much everyone except for you. More often than not he's staring at the floor and mumbling when you talk to him because he's worried he might scare you away.

✦ ── But he warms up eventually the more you talk him into it. He's more than willing to talk about his missions with you and goes to you for advice on reaching out to others a lot. When he isn't sure what to say to someone, he tries to think of what you'd say.

✦ ── You having apart of the series is both an opportunity for him to learn something about his own gloves and to have someone who can actually guide him through their use. He's really thankful he can go to you for help understanding the series—even if your knowledge is limited, too.

✦ ── Never suspects you might be manipulating others, and wouldn't believe anyone who claimed it. He dismisses those things quickly. They're just upset that you're well-liked and give such amazing advice.

"Thanks again. Y'know, for encouraging me to talk to them about it." Rudo had caught you in the hall and was now helping carry some of the books you were returning to the library of HQ.

Helping you, especially with stuff like carrying heavy things, made him feel stronger.

Even after you'd finished dropping everything off and began your next task, he stuck by your side. Mostly silent, listening to you talk to others and fidgeting with his gloves.

Words weren't needed. You'd look back at him like you expected him to be following you, and that was all the confirmation he needed to know you weren't annoyed by it.

Tamsy

✦ ── Your constant doting on others is certainly a draining task, and yet it never seems to affect you. For that, Tamsy is impressed. Though he doesn't much appreciate how you undo a lot of his work on Rudo (who he now tries to keep away from you whenever possible).

✦ ── When it's aimed at him, however? Oh, does he ever melt. Being the centre of your attention is an honour. He doesn't openly flaunt that he is your one and only, but he does act pretty smug about it when it comes up.

✦ ── Especially enjoys how much intel on others you have. You don't often share anything overly sensitive with him, but he still learns a lot about the other Cleaners from you, especially those that don't like him as much.

✦ ── Your vital instrument being among the Watchmen series is certainly a shock. Since you keep it a secret and only tell him, he promises not to share that information. He's just glad you own it, of all people.

✦ ── You? Manipulating? Of course, he knew all along! But you do it out of love and care, which he understands. Though he knows you have nothing insidious to hide. It's clear you genuinely want the best for others.

"Would you like a hand with that?" He seemed to magically appear at your side whenever you needed him, anticipating your needs before you.

The beads wrapped around your waist several times over kept tangling and snagging on your shirt, which made it much too obvious you were wearing them to begin with.

The watchman logo painted on the inside of every tiny little bead wasn't too obvious, but you rather keep it hidden than not.

His hand got to work, plenty skilled with detangling his own yarn. The blond took his time on purpose, allowing his hands to graze your skin more than needed.

"There we go, all better." You were always so busy caring for others; it was the least he could do considering what you'd sacrifice for him.

Zodyl

✦ ── You are total opposites. His stoic, almost absent-minded nature contradicts your open, engaged self. But that is why he has you on the Raiders; you supply to the team what he cannot.

✦ ── Be gentle with him all you like. He doesn't outwardly respond to a lot of it, but that is evidence enough that he enjoys it. He lets you touch his hair, hell, even his jacket, without a word or movement of complaint.

✦ ── He does think you are a bit too nurturing to the softer souls, such as Fu. If it weren't for you, he'd throw the kid into more head-on danger to try and scare him into action. Regardless, your methods may be slow, but they are still effective.

✦ ── Of course you have a piece of the Watchmen series; it was one of the many reasons he sought you out. It's also what allows you to get close to him in the first place. He needs you for his experiments, and now he's learned to need you for purely selfish reasons.

✦ ── Manipulate away. He had an inkling you were doing it, but he never bothered to give it much thought. Your methods support the Raiders and him, so why would it matter how you do it?

"What are you doing?" His lulled voice broke the silence, though he didn't move a muscle and kept his eyes trained forwards.

All he caught was your sheepish smile and shrug from the corner of his eye. You were adjusting the ties around his jacket sleeves. Admittedly, it felt a lot more comfortable.

When you mumbled something about his awful blood circulation, he looked away.

"It feels better, yes."

Author's Note ── 'Tamsy if possible' ALWAYS. ALWAYS POSSIBLE. I LOVE HIM.

Thank you for requesting! I hope this suited what you were looking for <3 I think you really picked up on what I write best; this is way up my alley!

his hands were bare. 

vulnerable.

unprotected.

his 3R gloves weren’t on him like it usually would have, leaving his arms exposed.

his gloves—where are they?

his eyes flicker around the room, breath hitching as he began to feel the sharp wave of his scar rings throbbing.

it hurt—it hurts!

the sharp pain crawled up the arm of his wounds, unbearable to soothe without his gloves.

he felt his knees buckle, hitting at the floor with a thud as he curled himself, knees hurled to his stomach.

 KNOCK - KNOCK.

“rudo, hey rudo?” you called on the other side of the door. “I heard a thud coming from your room. ya’ didn’t fall off your bed, did ya? you good?”

no answer made it back to you.

you called again.

“hello, rudo? no answer? i’m coming in, then.” you reply, twisting the knob of his door as it creaked open. “but don’t say I barged in, I’m only worried about—...” your words halted at his attempted curled position on the ground, his scarred hands that seemed to have caught your attention. “—you…”

your eyes scan over his position, his arms, and his unresponsive state. you notice, his gloves were missing — the very clear outcome of the state he’s in.

though clueless, you had to do something.

but what? your eyes quickly scan across the room, no gloves. his 3R gloves weren’t in sight.

shit.

you could only guess by that crouched position, he was in pain. you knew how it felt to be hitting that position when in pain.

your feet scurried across the floorboards, crouching in front of him with almost no noise. a natural habit of yours that you knew you should fix it — not wanting to startle the poor teen.

but you were there anyway.

at one point, he hadn’t even realized you came into his room — not until you reached for his hands, feeling the rough calloused skin of his under your fingertips.

“hey, rudo.”

you didn’t hesitate to reach out.

and at that moment, when your hands softly touched his — that’s when he realizes you were there, your soft touch on his wounded calloused ones.

“rudo.” you call again, hearing the faint hitch of his breath.

his head snaps up, eyes meeting yours.

that’s when rudo had realized you were there.

“[name]....” his voice was barely above a whisper.

you gave a soft squeeze, letting him know you’re here and you wouldn’t leave if he needed you there.

a silent reassurance that he wasn’t alone to suffer.

he exhales softly, his eyes trailing down to your interlocked hands.

“...”

the pain in his arms didn’t matter — not anymore, even from the loss of his gloves that were to soothe the pain, he had you.

for once, his hands felt soothed, like the pain was never there. not because of his gloves, but because of someone’s presence.

yours.

your presence that made him feel warm inside — sending butterflies in his stomach.

he didn’t quite understand this feeling.

or did he?

but he knows he’s comfortable with you.

he’s tense, but doesn’t push you away. he enjoys the warmth of your presence and your warm hands that seem to easily soothe the pain away.

he wants to be near you more, but he won’t admit it.

“t-thanks [name]...” he mutters softly under his breath, averting his gaze away. yet, he made no move to push your hands away.

you nod your head silently, letting your actions speak.

“of course. i’ll be here for ya’ anytime you need. but also, sorry for barging into yer room. you didn’t reply the first time, so don’t get mad at me later, okay?”

“...huh? oh.. it’s fine.” he murmurs absentmindedly, his senses barely focusing on anything else but the feeling of your hands offering gentle reassurance on his calloused ones.

for a moment longer, he wants to stay this way. to be engulfed in your warmth.

© teomkqi 2026 ; do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my work.

is he even prepared for this?

he doesn’t know. should he just… trust his own instincts and follow what to do?

rudo stands there, complementing what he should do. he still doesn’t know, but he doesn’t want you to feel alone. he wanted to at least offer his presence, something, anything. so he decides to make a decision, not fully thought through. just following along.

he lets his feet lead him the way, walking up next to you and taking a seat on the far end of the bench. he doesn’t come any closer, doesn’t move, doesn’t budge. he wants to give you the space. he’s there, but not to make you suffocate. he’s not rushing you. you don’t have to open up and you don’t have to tell him anything. he’s just offering his silent presence.

you feel a familiar presence.

you don’t move an inch though.

you don’t want to. and even then, you don’t even want to strike a conversation. you’re just not feeling it.

but instead of someone asking you—a voice, concern, anything, there was none. just silence in the breeze.

you almost thought the person would have left, but instead you felt the creak on the opposite end of the bench and your shoulders stiffened momentarily.

your eyes wander in the corner of your eye, quick to notice the familiar messy white hair and the black tips. rudo. you almost wanted to question why he was there — but you don’t. you didn’t really have the energy to say anything just yet.

you’re simply reflecting.

and all the while you do, he doesn’t move. he doesn’t step away. he only continues to sit there silently.

not a single word exchanged, not yet.

“huh.” you could only muster out in a hushed whisper, seeing his own divided attention solely being set on you, if not the scenery. (there’s not much to look at, other than trash, honestly). you follow his gaze, rubbing circles on your own thumb.

but inside, he’s choosing what to say to you, if he should. he’s nervous and he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing to you. because he’s not the type of person who can easily learn how others feel, how you feel.

and he comes up with a simple thing.

silence engulfed both of your silhouettes, before rudo quietly exhales, “...you’re not alone.” 

three words, but it gave you comfort than you ever imagined.

he was genuine and he meant it, even if it was the bare minimum—but he’s trying, for you. for the future when another cleaner is upset, he wants to be able to offer the same kind of reassurance the they gave to him.

the same way gris did, the same way tomme did.

the way team akuta would offer their own kind of comfort and reassurance to him to let him know he’s not going through it alone. even when they may be on different values, different places, different objectives from the first.

because they’re family. and you’re apart of it too. so he cares.

your eyes peer back at rudo’s form, observing the way his shoulders hunched. they were stiff as he tried to adjust to his role of being your safe place for the time being, until you were better — back to the usual get-to-go self. “thanks rudo.” you murmur under your breath, glancing down at your hands.

he watches you quietly, observing your body language. he doesn’t offer another word, but he’ll sit there for hours until you decided you were better, mentally and physically.

that’s what rudo decided on his own behalf, despite not knowing why he’d sit there wordlessly. it would be awkward, something he wasn’t used to. but if others were to do the same for him, he’d repay in their favor.

© teomkqi 2026 ; do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my work.

you blinked at him. “what?”

“reading. writing. all of it.” he grabbed the stick from your hand and drew a simple letter in the dirt. slow. careful. “this is ‘a.’”

you stared at it like it was something fragile.

“you don’t have to act like it doesn’t matter,” he added, his voice softer than usual. “it does. and you’re not stupid for not knowing.”

you swallowed. “what if i’m bad at it?”

he gave you a small look. “then we practice until you’re not.”

so it started like that. late nights after missions. him drawing letters. you copying them, your handwriting shaky and uneven at first. you got frustrated sometimes, especially when the letters looked too similar.

you’d press the stick too hard into the dirt and mutter that it was pointless.

rudo would just redraw it again. slower. “look,” he’d say. “this one has a tail. this one doesn’t. see the difference?”

and when you finally read your first full word without help, your eyes lit up in a way he hadn’t seen before. it was such a small word. only three letters. but you said it like you’d won something.

he didn’t smile big, that sometimes wasn’t really him. but his shoulders relaxed, and there was something proud in the way he looked at you.

“told you,” he muttered. “you just needed someone to show you.”

after that, he started leaving small notes for you. simple ones. written clear and big. just so you could practice.

and you kept every single one.

𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 -

sometimes when you hung out in his dorm, it was quiet in a soft way, not awkward, just calm vibes.

enjin would be sitting on his bed, back against the wall, talking about random things like practice, the weather, or something he saw outside earlier.

you’d sit at his desk chair, spinning a little without thinking, your hands wandering over whatever was near.

that’s when you found the magazines.

they were stacked neatly inside his desk drawer, not hidden exactly, just kept there like they mattered. you pulled one out, flipping through the pages slowly. bright pictures. big titles. long paragraphs under each photo.

you stared at them longer than you should’ve.

enjin noticed. he always noticed. “you like those?” he asked lightly.

you nodded. “they look interesting.”

he smiled a little. “you can read them if you want.”

you went quiet at that.

your fingers kept turning the pages, but your eyes weren’t really moving across the words. just the pictures. the colors. the shapes of the letters that all blended together.

you paused at one page for too long, pretending to focus.

enjin tilted his head. “what’s that one about?”

you swallowed. “uh… it’s just… about stuff.”

he watched you carefully, but his expression didn’t change. he slid off the bed and walked over, leaning slightly over your shoulder. his presence was warm, not pressuring.

“do you want me to read it out loud?” he asked gently.

you stiffened for a second. then you shrugged like it didn’t matter. “if you want.”

he didn’t tease you. didn’t laugh. he just rested one hand on the desk and started reading, his voice calm and smooth, explaining the article like it was the most normal thing in the world.

after a minute, he stopped.

“hey,” he said softly. “when you look at the words… do they get confusing?”

you didn’t answer right away.

“…i never learned,” you admitted quietly. “i can’t really read.”

the room stayed silent for a second, but it wasn’t heavy. enjin just nodded slowly, like you’d told him something important and he was handling it carefully.

“okay,” he said simply.

you blinked. “okay?”

“then when you come over,” he continued, pulling the chair a little closer so he could sit beside you, “we’ll read them together.”

he tapped the page. “i’ll go slow. and if you want, i can show you what the words mean too.”

you looked at him like you were waiting for the teasing to come. it didn’t.

instead, he grabbed a pen and a scrap paper from his desk. he wrote one word from the page in bigger letters.

“this one,” he said, pointing. “try saying it with me.”

your voice was quiet at first. unsure. but he didn’t rush you. every time you stumbled, he repeated it without making it feel like a mistake.

soon, hanging out in his dorm turned into something new.

sometimes you’d sit side by side on the floor, magazines spread out between you. he’d read a paragraph, then let you try a sentence. sometimes you’d only manage a few words. sometimes more.

and whenever you got one right on your own, he’d glance at you with this soft, proud look.

“see?” he’d murmur. “you’re getting it.”

and suddenly, the magazines stopped being just pictures after that.

they became something you could finally understand.

𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 -

you used to be in his room a lot, mostly when it was late and everything felt softer.

tamsy always had that little radio sitting near the window, wires a little messy, discs stacked beside it. sometimes he’d play music low in the background while he talked, or while you both just sat there doing nothing.

you liked watching the radio more than listening to it. the way the numbers lit up. the small buttons.

the tiny screen with letters running across it like they were in a hurry to be understood.

one night, he was digging through his stack of discs, humming to himself. “hey,” he said casually, holding one out to you. “put this one on for me.”

you took it carefully. the front had writing on it. thin letters curved around the center. you stared at it for a second too long, but you nodded anyway.

“yeah,” you said, trying to sound normal.

you slid the disc into the player like you’d seen him do before. the radio clicked, then started playing something random. not the song he picked.

tamsy tilted his head. “that’s not the one.”

your chest tightened. you quickly pressed another button, pretending you just hit the wrong thing. the music switched again. still wrong.

“it’s fine,” you muttered, shaking it off with a small laugh. “they all sound the same anyway.”

but he was watching you now. not the radio. you.

you avoided the screen. the tiny glowing words that told you the track name.

you pressed buttons without really knowing what they did, hoping you’d land on the right one by accident.

he stepped closer, gently reaching past you to stop your hand before you pressed something else.

“wait,” he said softly.

you froze.

“did you… not see which song it was?”

you shrugged again, like it didn’t matter. “i just mixed it up.”

he didn’t move away. his voice got quieter. “or you couldn’t read it.”

the room felt still.

you kept your eyes on the radio. “it’s whatever. i don’t really need to know how. it’s just songs.”

there wasn’t any judgment in his face. just understanding settling in slowly.

“you don’t know how to read,” he said gently, not as a question.

you shook your head once. small. like you didn’t want to make it a big thing.

instead of saying anything else, he reached over and ejected the disc. he held it up beside you, pointing to the words printed on it.

“this says the track number,” he explained calmly. “and this is the title.”

he moved closer, shoulder brushing yours, not to crowd you, just to show you better.

“look,” he murmured. “this letter right here? that’s a ‘b.’”

you glanced at it hesitantly.

“you don’t have to shake it off,” he added softly. “it’s not embarrassing.”

you swallowed. “i just didn’t want you to think i was dumb.”

he let out a quiet breath. “you’re not.”

he pressed the correct button himself, and the right song finally started playing, soft beats filling the room.

but instead of stepping away, he stayed beside you. pointing at the screen when the title flashed again.

“next time,” he said gently, “i’ll show you how to find it.”

and he meant it.

after that, sometimes when you were over, he’d hand you a disc on purpose. he’d stand close, guiding you through the letters on the screen. letting you sound them out slowly. never rushing. never laughing.

and the first time you picked the right song by yourself, without guessing, he just smiled softly and let the music play a little louder.

𝐙𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐊𝐔 -

back when you were at the hell guard academy, things were different.

crowded halls, shouting instructors, endless drills. you and zanka were friends, though not everyone could call him “friendly.”

he was quiet mostly, sharp with his words, always noticing details. and you… well, you were quiet too, but he noticed things about you that nobody else seemed to.

like how your hand would freeze over a piece of paper, like the letters themselves were obstacles.

how you hesitated to speak sometimes, especially when numbers or complicated words were involved.

he first realized it during a class on math.

the teacher handed out a sheet of calculations—angles, distances, ratios. everyone else scribbled and murmured answers, but you just stared, pencil hovering, face tight with concentration.

zanka leaned over slightly, eyes narrowing. “you stuck?” he asked quietly.

you shrugged. “i… i don’t get it,” you admitted softly. your voice barely carried.

he frowned, not in annoyance, but with that sharp focus he always had. “show me what you’ve done.” you handed the sheet over, and he scanned it quickly, noting the mistakes.

they weren’t from laziness, just confusion, misunderstanding. numbers jumbled in your mind like a foreign language.

from that moment, he started paying attention, not to make fun, not to humiliate, but to help.

after classes, he’d find you in the corner of the library or the training room, papers and books scattered around, trying to work through the assignments. he’d sit beside you, pointing slowly at each problem.

“look,” he’d say, voice steady. “this is how you set it up. start here, then here. don’t try to do it all at once.”

you followed his lead, trying to memorize the steps. sometimes you got frustrated, your hand shaking, your voice cracking when you asked the same question twice.

he didn’t get impatient. he just repeated it, breaking it down further.

writing was harder. letters and words didn’t come naturally to you, so he made a solution.

“say it out loud first,” he told you one afternoon, tracing the words on paper with his finger. “then write it slowly. each letter. don’t rush.”

it wasn’t quick. it wasn’t easy. sometimes you left in tears, embarrassed that it took so long.

but zanka always waited, always made sure you understood before leaving.

over time, numbers and words became less frightening, you started answering questions in class, handwriting got steadier, and math, you became something you could face without trembling.

he never made it feel like a lesson. never called it tutoring. it was just you two, working together in silence or soft conversation.

sometimes he’d even smile faintly when you solved a problem yourself, not saying much, just letting the quiet satisfaction fill the space.

and looking back, you realized he noticed you in ways no one else ever did. not the confusion, not the stumbles.

but the effort. and he made sure you never felt small for it.

𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐕𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐇𝐀 -

you knocked softly on corvus’ office door, the report semiu had sent clutched in your hands.

he didn’t look up right away, fingers moving quickly through papers on his desk. the office smelled faintly of ink and polished wood, quiet except for the soft scratching of his pen.

“come in,” he said without looking up, and you stepped forward. he waved a hand toward the report. “read this for me while i finish organizing these files.”

you froze for a moment, heart thudding in your chest.

the report wasn’t complicated. just words, neat lines, official-looking stamps. but the letters swam on the page. your hands gripped it tighter.

“uh…” you mumbled, voice small.

corvus glanced up, finally noticing the hesitation. “what is it?” he asked. not impatient. just curious.

you swallowed, eyes on the report. “i… i can’t read it,” you admitted quietly, almost ashamed. the words felt heavy in your mouth.

he froze for a heartbeat, then set the papers on the desk, giving you his full attention. “you… can’t?”

you shook your head slowly, fiddling with the corner of the report. “i never learned.”

corvus expression softened slightly, the sharpness in his eyes dimming just enough. he leaned back in his chair, studying you calmly.

“so that’s why you’ve been quiet whenever there’s paperwork.”

you nodded, unable to look at him.

“it’s fine,” he said finally, voice steady, not harsh at all. “we’ll fix it. you’re not in trouble for this.”

your shoulders sagged a little, relief mixing with embarrassment.

he stood and moved closer to the desk, leaning on it with one hand. “we’ll start with the basics,” he said. “letters first, then words. i’ll guide you. you’ll get it.”

you looked up at him, unsure.

“don’t worry about this report right now,” he added. “i’ll read it myself. your job isn’t to hide the fact that you don’t know. it’s to learn.”

and that day, in his office, you realized you weren’t alone in your struggle anymore.

corvus would be the one to show you, patient and steady, until the letters on the page weren’t frightening anymore.

over the next few weeks, the office became a quiet place for learning.

sometimes you stumbled, sometimes you hesitated, but he never raised his voice.

just pointed at the words, letting you sound them out, tracing letters with his finger when you needed it.

𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐙𝐀 -

you were in august’s workroom again, the air heavy with the smell of leather, paint, and cotton.

the lights hung low, casting long shadows across the tables where half-finished gas masks and tools were scattered.

you were helping him stretch new masks for the cleaners, hands busy but mind wandering, watching his movements as he worked with precise, careful motions.

“OKAY,,” august said suddenly, wiping his hands on a rag.

“i want you to write down ideas for the next batch. measurements, adjustments, anything you think could help.” he handed you a notebook, its pages crisp and blank, a pen balanced on top.

you stared at it. the pen felt heavy in your hand, the blank page staring back like it had a voice of its own. your stomach twisted. “i… i can’t,” you admitted quietly.

august paused, raising an eyebrow, his usual calm precision giving way to a flicker of concern. “you can’t… write?”

you shook your head slowly, looking down at your hands. “i never learned. i… i don’t know how.”

he let out a slow breath, not angry, not frustrated. just quiet, as if he was taking in something new.

you nodded, biting your lip. “i didn’t want to mess it up. i thought i could just… help with the masks instead.”

august set the rag down and walked closer, placing a hand lightly on the edge of the table. “it’s fine. you’re not messing anything up. if you want to help, we’ll figure this out.”

you looked at him, unsure.

“look,” he said, leaning down so he was at your level, “i’ll show you. letters first, then words, then sentences. we take it slow. no rush, no mistakes counted.”

you blinked. “really?”

he gave a small nod. “really. you don’t have to write perfectly. you just need to start.”

so you did. august stayed beside you, patient and steady, showing you how to form each letter with the pen, guiding your hand when needed, explaining as you went.

sometimes the lines wobbled, sometimes the letters were too small or too large, but he never corrected you sharply. he just had you try again, slower.

and when you finally wrote a full word without his help, your hand shaking but letters clear enough to read, august only nodded, letting a rare, small smile brush his face.

“good,” he said simply. “we’ll keep going like this.”

after that day, every time you helped stretch masks or worked in the shop, there was always a notebook nearby.

you’d try a few letters, he’d guide you through a word, and slowly, the fear of the blank page faded.

it didn’t matter how long it took—you were learning, and august made sure you knew you weren’t alone.

𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐍 -

you were in practice with gris that afternoon, swinging your vital instrument and moving through drills, trying to keep up.

most of it made sense, but every so often he’d call out instructions and your mind would stumble over a word, freeze for a second, and you’d nod anyway, pretending you understood.

and he noticed.

later that day, when practice was over and everyone had left, you found yourself in his room.

the room smelled lavender and worn fabric, stuff leaning against the wall, papers scattered across a small desk. gris was quiet, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you as you hesitated at the door.

“you didn’t get some of the words today, didn’t you?” he asked, voice calm but not teasing.

you froze. “i… i just… got confused,” you admitted softly.

he nodded slowly, gesturing to the desk. “come sit. we’ll fix it.”

you moved closer, sitting down on the floor beside him. he pulled over a notebook and a pen. “i’ll write the words. then i’ll show you what they mean. one at a time.”

you watched his hand move, letters forming neatly on the page. “like… that?” you asked quietly.

“yeah,” he said. “and you’ll say them out loud with me. don’t worry if it’s slow. we’ll take it one step at a time.”

so you did.

the first few words were tricky. your tongue stumbled over sounds you didn’t know, your hand shook while tracing the letters. gris didn’t rush you.

he didn’t sigh or frown. he just repeated the word, traced the letters again, and waited.

“good,” he murmured after a few tries, “you got it that time.”

bit by bit, the words you couldn’t understand during practice began to make sense.

he wrote them, you said them, then you tried them on your own. each time you got one right, he gave a small nod, almost imperceptible, but it made your chest feel lighter.

by the time the night had grown quiet, you could read and say a handful of the words that had tripped you up earlier.

gris leaned back against the bed, eyes soft. “see?” he said. “it’s not impossible. you just needed someone to show you.”

you smiled shyly, feeling a little braver than before.

𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎 𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐎 -

you were sitting across from follo again, the usual quiet stretching between you.

he noticed it every time. how your words came out in small, careful doses, never more than a sentence or two, never enough to fill the space.

“why do you barely talk?” he asked finally, voice calm but direct, like he wasn’t asking just to make conversation. he leaned back, arms crossed, watching you closely.

you blinked, staring down at your hands. “i… i don’t know,” you admitted softly. “i just… never really learned how. or… maybe i’m afraid i’ll say the wrong thing.”

follo’s eyes softened, though the edge in them stayed—curious, probing. “the wrong thing? what do you mean?”

you hesitated, swallowing. “like… words get mixed up in my head. and if i say them, people don’t… understand. or they look at me funny. it’s easier to just… stay quiet.”

he stayed quiet for a moment, letting that sink in. the corner of his mouth twitched like he wanted to smile, but he didn’t.

“so it’s not that you don’t have things to say,” he said slowly, “you just… struggle getting them out?”

you nodded. “yeah. it’s… it’s easier to listen than to speak.”

he leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp but gentle. “i’ve noticed,” he admitted. “but you don’t have to stay quiet with me. not if you don’t want to.”

your heart thudded in your chest. “i… i don’t know how to make it right,” you whispered.

follo shook his head slightly, a small, patient movement. “you don’t have to ‘make it right.’ we’ll figure it out. slow. little steps. words don’t have to be perfect to matter.”

you looked up at him, unsure but feeling something light in your chest, a tiny spark of relief.

“i’ll help you,” he added quietly, “if you let me.”

and for the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe staying quiet didn’t have to be the only choice.

𝐅𝐔 𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑 -

you were sitting near fu during practice, the way you always slurred some words not because you didn’t know them, but because they tangled in your mouth before you could get them out.

it was subtle, barely anyone noticed—but fu did. he watched quietly, head tilted, eyes soft and careful.

“um…” he started one day, voice small, barely above a whisper. “i… i noticed… sometimes… you… um… slur words.”

you froze, cheeks heating, hands gripping whatever was near. “i… i didn’t mean to,” you mumbled, looking down. “it… it just happens.”

he nodded quickly, fidgeting with the strap of his glove. “i… i know. i… i just… thought maybe… maybe i could… help?” his words stumbled over themselves, soft and unsure.

you blinked, not sure what to say. “help? how?”

he glanced away, shifting on his feet, then back at you. “like… maybe… if you… say the word slowly… and i… i can show you how to… um… pronounce it? if you want?”

your chest felt lighter, like someone had lifted a weight off it. “you… really want to?” you asked quietly.

he nodded, a small, almost shy smile flickering. “y-yeah… i… i want to help. if that’s okay.”

so you tried.

one word at a time. he spoke first, gently, clearly, letting you hear it. then you repeated it, slow and careful.

sometimes your tongue twisted, sometimes your voice wavered, but he never got impatient. he just waited, soft eyes fixed on you, nodding when you got closer.

“good,” he whispered after one attempt, voice so soft it barely left his lips. “that… that was good.”

it didn’t take long for small improvements.

your words became less tangled, less shaky, and every time he noticed, he gave the tiniest nod or a quiet “well done.”

you started looking forward to it—the quiet sessions where no one else was around, where mistakes didn’t matter, and fu’s gentle, timid encouragement made the words feel less scary.

and slowly, the slurs didn’t feel like something to hide anymore.

𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐋 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍 -

you stayed quiet around zodyl most of the time.

it wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk—it was just him. the way he looked, sharp and unreadable, like no one could really know what he was thinking.

no expression ever flickered on his face, and it made your chest tighten every time you tried to speak.

he noticed. of course he noticed.

not just the way you hung back around him, but the way you froze around other raiders too.

how your hands fidgeted when someone asked you a question, how your voice shrank to almost nothing, how you avoided looking at the papers you were supposed to write on.

one evening, when the hall was quiet and everyone else had left to a mission, he found you sitting alone with a pen and a sheet of notes near the lounge.

your shoulders were hunched, pencil hovering over the page like it weighed a ton. he stepped closer, slow, careful.

“you struggle,” he said simply. not a question. not a judgment. just a statement.

you flinched slightly, eyes dropping. “i… i… um…” your words stumbled out in a small, nervous jumble.

he crouched down a little, voice low but steady. “with writing. with speaking. i can see it.”

you swallowed, heat rising in your cheeks. “i… i just… don’t want to… mess up.”

he was quiet for a moment, eyes scanning the page, then you. “then i will help you,” he said finally. “slowly. quietly. no one needs to see.”

you nodded, hesitant, barely daring to look at him.

so he started. one word at a time. he wrote a letter in the dust on the floor first, tracing it with his finger, then letting you try.

your lines trembled, letters uneven, but he didn’t move impatiently or make a sound of frustration.

he only waited. watched. guided when needed.

“again,” he said after a shaky attempt. “slower. careful.”

and over time, the words became easier. your voice grew steadier when speaking. your hand steadier when writing.

zodyl never smiled. never said it outright, but his presence was constant.

and one day, when you read a full sentence aloud without hesitation, he just nodded once.

no words, no praise, but you felt it anyway—approval. recognition. and slowly, being around him didn’t feel so scary anymore.

you realized he had seen all the little struggles you hid, and even if he didn’t show emotion, he cared enough to make sure you didn’t face them alone.

𝐉𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 -

you were walking back from the mission, tired, shoulders stiff, the quiet between you and jabber was longer than usual.

normally he didn’t speak much either, but today, after seeing how you moved, how you hesitated at every order or instruction, he noticed something. something more than just quietness.

“hey ma,” he said finally, voice low, cautious. “you… you didn’t really respond out there.”

you flinched, looking down at your hands. “i… i’m sorry,” you mumbled. your voice was soft, hesitant, like every word weighed too much.

he stopped walking, turning toward you, eyes sharp but not angry. “no ma, that’s not what i mean. you struggle… talking?”

you blinked, cheeks heating. “i… i… sometimes. i just… it’s hard. words… don’t come out right.”

he tilted his head, frowning slightly. “all the time? or just with certain people?”

“mostly… everyone,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “and… writing too… i… i can’t do it well.”

he stayed quiet for a moment, processing. then he crouched down slightly, to be closer to your level, like he didn’t want to loom over you.

“so… it’s not that you don’t want to communicate,” he said slowly, each word careful, “you just… can’t? not easily ma?”

you nodded, hugging your arms to your chest. “i try… i do. but… it’s hard. i don’t want to mess up.”

jabber let out a quiet breath, not frustration, just thoughtfulness. “okay mamas,” he said finally. “then i’ll help. not by forcing you, not by rushing… but… you and me, we’ll figure it out.”

you looked at him, unsure.

he gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. “slowly. letters first, words next, sentences later. only when you’re ready. i’ll show you. guide you. no one else needs to know.”

you swallowed, the knot in your chest loosening slightly. “really?”

he didn’t smile—he never really did—but his gaze softened a little. “yeah. really. you’re not alone in this ma.”

and from that day, when missions were over and the dorms were quiet, he started teaching you in small steps.

tracing letters, sounding words aloud, letting you practice without judgment. sometimes you stumbled.

sometimes you froze. but he never pushed, never teased, never left.

and slowly, the words that once tangled in your mouth began to make sense.

not perfectly, not quickly—but with him there, you realized speaking and writing didn’t have to feel impossible anymore

As you got down the jeep you felt like you wanna vomit right here and there. But you can't since you don't wanna embarrass yourself infront of everybody surrounding you.

"Gotta hold it in until I reached inside.." You thought; Trying to focus on your way inside the HQ.

Riyo suddenly announced that we should have a group dinner for those who engaged on today's mission, everyone agreed. But first you need to take a rest from the events that happened earlier.

As you walked into the hallway going to your room, you noticed a small pouch sitting at your door.

Now, who would put that on someone's door, but anyway. You picked the small pouch up and opened it, by your surprise the inside of the pouch was full of candy.

"Who would put candy under the doorstep?" You mutter looking around seeing if anyone was there in sight, but there were none.

You didn't mind it at first, you only thought it was a small gift from team child, which is ironically sweet.

A few days passed, you always received these type of things whenever you are after on your mission. Now something seems off, who could be putting candies and trinkets on someone's door.

Plus, there were no traces on how it was placed there, no notes, nothing.

You were really suspecting someone around team child.

Between Dear and Guita, you know for sure that Dear would not share his sweets, as well for Guita, sure she can give you small trinkets as a gift, but the trinkets you received were a little specific and you're pretty sure she wouldn't do that almost after all the missions you attended.

You think, harder, who else in HQ could be so obsessed with sweets and giving trinkets.

Rudo.

Rudo is the type of guy who has gift giving as a sign of affection. You're suspecting him, but you are not really that sure since Rudo also doesn't share his sweets.

But you kept your theory in mind after that.

Another few days past, today's mission went smoothly this time.

But you need to be inside HQ, fast, so you can catch who places sweets and trinkets outside of your room.

As you leave everyone begind, you dashed through the entrance of the reception, waving Semiu a hi and telling her that the rest were outside, then went straight up to where the bedrooms are located.

You marched down to the hallway of your room, you didn't see anything under your door this time.

You panted from all the running going upstairs just to see who places small things there, wow, there's none. But you thought that your theory might be right since the rest of Team Akuta are still downstairs.

You went in your room to relax for a bit before returning outside and waiting outside your door. As you stepped outside, you saw Rudo holding something, now your suspection growing bigger and curious to what he is holding right now.

You placed on your best smile approaching to him acting as you didn't know anything.

"Hey Rudo!" You exclaimed happily. Rudo jolted, leaving him dumbfounded as he hurriedly hid something behind his back.

Ha, knew it.

"W-what are you doing here?" He stuttered, cheeks turning pink.

"I just got out of my room to get something," you said happily lying. "Hey wha'cha got there behind you?" You pointed out with your finger.

"It's nothing... really." Rudo avoided eye contact, putting on this angry-flustered expression when someone is definitely lying.

You're getting really impatient with this, you suddenly asked him directly about it.

"Are you the one who placed trinkets and candies at my door?" You asked crossing arms looking at him directly.

You peeked on his side where you can see a pouch that is possibly filled with candies. "I'm guessing that you are gonna place those today. Right?"

Rudo held the pouch tightly around his chest now, face flushed with embarrassment, out of all days, why now. 'No wonder why they entered the HQ first' that's what Rudo thought.

He sighed accepting his defeat.

"Yea, here you go." He carefully handed out a pouch of candy to you still not making eye contact. You started to melt at the feeling, how sweet.

"Well thanks," You said reaching your hand to ruffle his hair. Now you're curious about why is he giving this stuff to you.

"Why are you leaving things on my door though?" you asked head tilting.

Rudo placed his hand behind his neck, rubbing it gently. As he looked up to meet your eyes filled with curiousity.

"I only did that because," he paused for a minute. "Because you seem really tired after missions so I thought it would be nice to send you some stuff over to cheer you up." Rudo mumbled breaking eye contact again.

Both of you were now standing in silence, thinking on what answer should you give. Rudo broke the silence by rambling saying "It's not something like that!" Or "Don't take it in another way!" Or "Atleast say something because it's getting creepy".

You let out a laugh, finding this whole thing kinda adorable, Rudo was now dumbfounded his cheeks going pink again. Enjin later found you both, calling you and Rudo to come down because he's taking Team Akuta to Canvas Town.

After you calmed down, you widely grinned at Rudo. "Thanks for the small gifts you gave me Rudo!". Rudo also exchanged a "smile" at you back.

Ah, right. He can't smile for who knows what. Anyways.

Enjin called you both once again, you and Rudo went together to Enjin who was waiting at the stairs. You went first then Rudo followed you behind

As you got into the car, you started eating the sweets Rudo gave you. But this time the candies are sweeter than the ones he usually gave. Gosh how much sugar can this dude take.

ʚଓA/n: Rudo is such a sweetheart here I cant🥹 I also included Rudo's development for expressing feelings well here, and that is very dear to me. Ok time to sleep since its 3am here🥱 Good night!!(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

✧𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗!

I've definitely... attempted to dye your hair with him with some random box dye you bought at the store and had a full blown argument on how to use the box thinking the box was the dye and then realized the dye was in the box... leading to a giant mess as somehow most of the dye got into rudo hair instead of yours and slightly burnt both your scalps off 

Sometimes when Rudo is dissociating or on the verge of mentally breaking down.. you sit in his presence waiting until he's ready to talk it out with you 

The first time you got a choker Rudo ask you first if he can have your blood (for the chocker) but you had no clue what the hell he was saying sense u zoned out on how a choker works and became scared of him

The first time you ever called on a choker was a cry of plea as in your own words "A HAIR PUSSY LOOKING LONG LEGED TRASH BEAST IS IN MY FUCKING ROOM." 

It was a spider btw 

You never let go of the poop story

One day after eavesdropping on Tomme on what a sleep over is you had the great idea to invite Rudo over for a sleep over! 

It went awful 

You tried making a fort according to Riyo and it fell on both of you because you shoved Rudo into the only pillow holding the whole thing up 

It turned into a pillow fight with both of you laughing on the ground in pain but fun 

You also saw his real smile at the moment which mad you think he was possessed in that half second 

Later on in the night when you both were trying to fall asleep... you both were just spilling dark secrets can't lie

(Spoiler for future chapter!)

He ask you why you always hide your hand with the supporter gloves or hide them behind your back even off mission which 

To which you simple pull your hand out under the cover to show him your hand littered in scars and burn, unable to stay still as it shakes in place 

You don't tell him everything by the hand says it all 

He looks at your hand then back at his as he slowly takes his glove off to show his hand scattered with messy bandage covering up the horrors on his hand 

You both stare at each other before putting your hand away in a silent agreement that no one doesn't really need to know what happened that night... 

however the next morning while not visible at first glance you both stayed more closer to each other in silence