munch-sama

-love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies aristotle

synopsis: you spent years building a future with the person you loved, only to be abandoned on the day everything was meant to begin. heartbroken, you disappeared and rebuilt your life alone. four years later, an unexpected reunion forces old wounds open, demanding answers neither of you escaped.

content: f!reader, fluff, angst, comfort, romance and so on

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

chapter 2

The first time Guita realized something was going on between you and Enjin, she nearly walked straight into a wall.

Not because the relationship was a secret.

Because she genuinely hadn't noticed.

Which was impressive.

Most of headquarters had figured it out months ago.

Some had figured it out even earlier.

Cleaner headquarters wasn't exactly the ideal place for privacy. People came and went constantly. Doors were always opening. Someone was always around a corner, walking through a hallway, entering a room, or overhearing something they probably weren't supposed to.

So naturally, people noticed things.

Like how Enjin always seemed to know where you were. Or how you always ended up beside him after missions. Or how the two of you shared comfortable silences that didn't need filling.

Nobody thought much of it anymore.

Except Guita.

Apparently.

"...Wait."

You looked up from the report in your hands.

Guita was staring.

At you.

Then at Enjin.

Then back at you.

"Wait."

Across the room, Bro immediately looked interested.

August looked up from whatever project he was currently tormenting.

The room sensed potential entertainment.

A dangerous thing.

"What?" you asked.

Guita pointed.

"You two."

Silence.

Then Bro buried his face in his hands.

"No."

"What's wrong with her?" August asked.

"No, no, no."

Guita frowned.

"Why are you acting like that?"

Nobody answered.

That only made her more suspicious. Then understanding slowly crossed her face.

Very slowly.

Painfully slowly.

"...You're together?"

The entire room erupted.

Someone near the back laughed loud enough to attract attention from another room.

You immediately looked down. Beside you, Enjin closed his eyes.

Not because he was embarrassed. Because he knew exactly what was about to happen.

"Finally," Bro said.

"Oh thank goodness," August added.

"She got there."

"I was starting to lose hope."

Guita looked offended.

"Why is everyone acting like I'm stupid?"

Nobody answered.

Mostly because another voice suddenly joined the conversation.

"Acting?"

Zanka had arrived.

And somehow managed to make everything worse.

Ten minutes later, Guita understood.

Zanka did not. Nobody knew how.

Even after multiple people tried explaining. Even after Bro literally pointed at you and Enjin and said,

"They're dating."

Zanka somehow remained unconvinced.

"Maybe you're all misunderstanding."

"You think we're misunderstanding a relationship?"

"It happens."

"It doesn't."

"It could."

"It couldn't."

The argument continued long enough that several passing Cleaners stopped to listen before continuing on their way.

Headquarters was like that.

One conversation became everyone's entertainment.

Eventually Riyo walked past, took one look at the situation, and kept walking. A clear sign that she wanted absolutely no part of it.

You didn't blame her.

Neither did Enjin.

Especially when August started drawing diagrams.

Life returned to normal after that. Or at least as normal as Cleaner headquarters ever became.

Missions continued.

People came and went.

Someone was always arguing. Someone was always laughing.

Somewhere in the building something had exploded.

Again.

The culprit remained unknown.

Though most suspicions pointed toward August.

You were helping organize supplies one afternoon when Follo walked in carrying three boxes.

"Need help?"

You immediately stood.

"I can take one."

Before Follo could answer, the heaviest box disappeared from his hands.

Enjin.

Follo stared. You stared.

Enjin looked between both of you.

"What?"

Follo sighed.

"I'm not even surprised anymore."

He walked away. Leaving you and Enjin standing there.

You smiled. Enjin shook his head. But he smiled too.

Moments like that happened often.

Small things. The kind that never seemed important at the time. The kind people only appreciated later.

A few weeks passed.

Then one evening Tamsy accidentally discovered a problem.

A very amusing problem. He had been looking for equipment.

Instead, he found Enjin standing alone inside a storage room.

Talking.

Tamsy quietly closed the door.

Waited.

Then opened it again.

Enjin was still there.

Still talking.

To absolutely nobody.

"..."

"..."

Tamsy leaned against the doorframe.

"Should I leave?"

"Yes."

"Practicing something?"

"No."

"You were talking to a shelf."

"I was thinking."

"Aloud?"

"Leave."

Tamsy's smile widened.

Unfortunately for Enjin, that smile meant trouble. Not because Tamsy would spread gossip.

Because Bro existed.

The information somehow reached him.

Nobody knew how. Nobody wanted to know.

What mattered was that by the next day Bro was following Enjin around with increasingly terrible advice.

"You should sing."

"No."

"Poetry?"

"No."

"A dramatic speech?"

"No."

"Interpretive dance?"

Enjin looked moments away from violence.

Bro considered that a victory. August somehow became involved.

Which only made things worse.

By the end of the week, a small group of people had figured out what Enjin was planning.

Enough for encouragement. Enough for teasing. Enough for Enjin to question every life decision that had led him here.

The strange part was that beneath all the jokes, everyone seemed genuinely happy.

Maybe because good things felt rare. Maybe because people cared more than they admitted.

Probably both.

The proposal happened on a day that started completely ordinary.

No decorations. No audience. No grand plan.

At least that was the intention.

The problem was that Cleaner headquarters couldn't stay uninvolved in anything. Especially not this.

You had spent most of the afternoon helping with reports.

By the time you finally stepped outside for some air, the sun had already begun to set.

The city glowed in warm colors. The kind that made everything feel softer.

You heard footsteps behind you. Then Enjin stopped beside you.

For a moment neither of you spoke.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable.

You glanced at him. Immediately noticed something was wrong.

Or rather—

Something was different.

Enjin looked nervous. Which was alarming.

Because Enjin didn't get nervous.

At least not often.

"You okay?"

"...No."

The answer surprised both of you.

You couldn't help smiling.

Enjin looked annoyed.

At himself. At the situation. Possibly at the universe.

Then he exhaled. And finally spoke.

The words weren't perfect.

A few got stuck.

Others came out differently than he intended.

But somehow that made them feel more real. Because this wasn't a performance.

It was Enjin. Just Enjin.

And when he finally asked—

There was never going to be another answer.

"Yes."

For a second everything felt still.

Then—

A loud crash came from inside headquarters. Followed immediately by cheering.

You froze.

Enjin closed his eyes.

Someone had clearly been spying.

"WOOOO!"

Bro.

Without question.

"IT WORKED!"

Definitely Bro.

Several more voices joined in.

You immediately covered your face.

Inside headquarters, chaos erupted.

The news spread before either of you even made it back inside. By dinner, congratulations were coming from every direction. By the next morning, people had somehow started discussing engagement plans. And by the end of the week, the entire headquarters seemed excited.

For once, it felt like everyone had something to look forward to.

Something good. Something certain.

Neither of you knew then that the day everyone was waiting for was already moving toward them.

And that nothing would ever be the same afterward.

The weeks after the proposal passed faster than anyone expected.

One day people were congratulating you. The next, they were somehow discussing engagement decorations as if they had been planning them for months.

You never figured out when that happened. Only that it did.

Cleaner headquarters had a habit of adopting happy news and treating it as a shared project. Which was exactly what happened.

People drifted in and out of conversations. Opinions appeared. Suggestions appeared. Arguments appeared.

Most of them completely unnecessary.

One afternoon, you walked into the common room to find August standing on a chair.

"...Why are you up there?"

"So everyone can hear me."

Nobody had been listening before. Now they definitely weren't.

August pointed dramatically at a rough sketch in his hands.

"I have a vision."

Several people immediately groaned. From somewhere nearby, Bro laughed.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"No."

"Yes."

The discussion somehow lasted twenty minutes.

You still weren't entirely sure what the vision actually was. Only that Riyo eventually ended it. The room collectively moved on.

August did not.

Enjin looked exhausted before he had even said a word.

You couldn't stop smiling.

The headquarters felt lighter during those weeks. Even the people who weren't directly involved seemed excited. Others would stop you in hallways to offer congratulations. Some wished you luck. Some gave advice. Some shared stories you weren't entirely sure you wanted to hear.

The days kept moving.

Mission.

Reports.

Dinner.

Laughter.

Arguments.

Then another day.

Then another.

Until eventually there weren't many days left at all.

The morning of the engagement arrived bright and clear. Cleaner headquarters had been awake long before sunrise. People moved through hallways carrying things from one room to another. Voices echoed throughout the building.

Doors opened.

Closed.

Opened again.

The atmosphere felt different.

Not because it was loud. Because it was happy.

You could feel it. The excitement. The anticipation. The sense that something important was finally happening.

By midday, more people had started arriving.

Some familiar. Some less familiar. Others you recognized only from passing conversations or missions.

The headquarters felt full. Not crowded. Full.

As if people kept finding reasons to stop by. A few wanted to congratulate you. Others simply wanted to be present.

The engagement had become bigger than either of you expected. Because people cared.

Alice arrived during the afternoon. You spotted her among the growing crowd. She greeted a few people before finding you.

The conversation was brief. The kind that left you smiling afterward.

Then the day continued moving.

Because it still felt early. There was still time. Plenty of time.

Arkha Corvus arrived later.

His presence changed the atmosphere almost immediately. People straightened slightly. Conversations quieted for a moment before gradually returning.

Corvus exchanged greetings with several people as he entered. Then his attention found you. For a brief moment, something resembling approval crossed his face.

"You look happy."

The words surprised you.

You nodded.

Corvus gave a small hum.

"Good."

Simple. Direct.

Exactly the sort of thing people expected from him. Then he moved on.

Headquarters continued breathing around him. Conversations resumed. Laughter returned. The day carried forward.

And still Enjin hadn't arrived.

At first nobody thought much of it.

He was busy. He was responsible. Something had probably delayed him.

Nobody worried. Not yet.

Someone mentioned it casually. Another person shrugged.

The mood remained unchanged. For a while.

An hour passed. Then another.

The conversations slowly shifted. People checked entrances more often. A few glanced toward clocks.

Questions started appearing. Small questions. Harmless questions. The sort people ask when they expect a reasonable answer.

"Has anyone heard from him?"

"No."

"He'll be here."

"Probably."

Probably.

The word appeared often. Too often.

The room remained full. Others continued arriving. Some didn't realize anything was wrong yet. They entered smiling. Talking. Then noticed the atmosphere. The waiting. The subtle tension spreading through the headquarters.

And their smiles faded.

Questions became quieter.

Voices became softer.

The excitement that had filled the building earlier started slipping away.

Slowly.

Like water through open fingers.

Bro stopped laughing. You noticed that first. Not because he looked frightened. Because he looked worried.

And that felt strange.

Nearby, a conversation died halfway through. Someone checked the entrance again. Someone else stood from their seat only to sit back down moments later.

People were still talking. Just less.

The headquarters was becoming quieter. Another hour passed.

And then the whispers began. Not from one person. Not from two. From everywhere.

Pieces of conversation. Fragments. Half-finished thoughts. The others carried them from one corner of the room to another. Like a current nobody could stop.

"Maybe he got delayed."

"Something happened."

"He would've called."

"Wouldn't he?"

The questions lingered.

Unanswered. Unwelcome.

Corvus remained.

He hadn't left. Neither had anyone important. That somehow made everything worse. Because if people were staying—

Then they were still hoping.

Still waiting. Still believing he would walk through those doors. Any minute now. Any second. At any moment.

He didn't.

The realization didn't arrive all at once. It crept in.

Slow.

Cruel.

Relentless.

Each passing minute pressed the truth a little deeper.You kept looking toward the entrance.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Every sound made your heart jump. Every opening door.vEvery set of footsteps. Every voice from the hallway. None of them were him.

The first tear slipped down your cheek before you noticed. You quickly looked away. Hoping nobody saw. Unfortunately, people did.

Not because they were watching. Because they cared. And somehow that made it hurt more. Nobody approached. Nobody said anything. The room understood. There were no words.

The whispers disappeared eventually. Because they stopped knowing what to say. The headquarters had become unbearably quiet. Even August had fallen silent.

All that remained was waiting. Waiting for someone who wasn't coming. Eventually people started leaving.

Not in groups.

One at a time.

Slowly.

Reluctantly.

A few offered apologies for something that wasn't their fault. Others simply lowered their heads as they passed. Nobody knew how to fix this. Nobody knew what happened. Nobody knew where Enjin was.

The decorations remained. The food remained. The chairs remained. The celebration remained.

Everything was still there. Everything except the person it had been waiting for.

You didn't remember standing. You didn't remember leaving. Only that at some point the room became too much.

The stares. The silence. The pity. The heartbreak. All of it. Too much.

You walked back to your room alone. The headquarters felt unfamiliar now.

The same halls. The same walls. The same doors. Yet somehow none of it felt the same.

The moment the door closed behind you—

Everything broke.

The tears you'd spent hours holding back came all at once. Your knees hit the floor. A sob escaped before you could stop it.

Then another.

Then another.

The ring on your finger felt impossibly heavy. Every memory crashed into the next.

The proposal.

His smile.

The future you'd imagined.

The promises.

The plans.

The certainty.

All of it shattered.

You cried until breathing hurt. Until your chest ached. Until the room blurred. Until there was nothing left except grief.

Raw.

Ugly.

Uncontrollable.

The kind that left no room for dignity. No room for composure. No room for anything else.

Outside your room, headquarters remained awake. People moved quietly through hallways.

Doors opened. Doors closed. Voices stayed low. Nobody knew what to do. Nobody knew what to say.

The celebration was over. The waiting was over. Hope was over.

And somewhere in the darkness of your room, surrounded by the ruins of a future that never arrived, your heart finally accepted what your mind had been refusing to believe for hours.

Enjin wasn't coming.

And for the first time since you met him—

you hated him.

so this is the first chapter. sorry for the long wait. hope you like it.

also I'm taking request currently.

Despite all the denial, they’ve both quietly been pining for one another for a while now (stealing glances whenever they think the other isn’t looking, lingering around each other a little too long, and teasing each other intentionally just to get a reaction).

I’d love for the tension to be a mix of comedic and genuinely heartfelt, with everyone around them slowly losing their minds over how painfully obvious their feelings are except to themselves.

Thank you! :3

sure!

༯Just Teammates⇢zanka nijiku

-i love you without knowing how, or when, or from where pablo neruda

synopsis: a quiet encounter between two people in a fractured world where one carries too much weight inside their own thoughts. gentle presence replaces pressure as silence becomes shared instead of isolating. small truths surface, not to fix pain, but to soften its edges and make staying feel a little less impossible.

content: f!reader, fluff, reassurance, hurt/comfort so on

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

“Sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

Zanka didn’t even look at the blood on his sleeve like it mattered. He stood there like the world had agreed pain was optional for him.

You didn’t raise your voice.

You rarely did.

You just stepped closer and gently caught his wrist.

“Sit,” you repeated, softer this time, but firmer in a way that didn’t leave much room for debate.

His eyes flicked to your hand on him.

Then away.

“Tch.”

And he sat.

Like he always did when you said it like that.

You knelt in front of him immediately, careful fingers pulling back his sleeve. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was messy enough to make you frown.

“You didn’t dodge properly,” you murmured.

“I did.”

“You got hit.”

“I’m still standing.”

“That’s not the point.”

Zanka clicked his tongue, but didn’t pull away when you cleaned the wound. He never did.

Not from you.

“You worry too much,” he said after a moment.

Your hands slowed slightly.

“I don’t think I do,” you replied quietly.

“You do,” he said.

There was no teasing in it.

Just certainty.

You tightened the bandage gently. “Then maybe you don’t get hurt too much.”

That made him pause for half a second longer than usual.

Then he scoffed. “Ridiculous logic.”

But he didn’t move his arm away.

It happened often like this.

Arguments that never truly ended.

Moments that always stayed too close.

Zanka walking too fast ahead, only to slow when he realized you weren’t beside him yet.

You catching up without complaint, adjusting something on his gear without asking.

“This strap is loose,” you said once.

“It’s fine.”

“It will tear during movement.”

“It won’t.”

“It will.”

He sighed. “You always act like I can’t take care of myself.”

You blinked at him, then quietly tightened it properly.

“I don’t think that,” you said. “I just think you don’t always care if you get hurt.”

Zanka glanced at you.

Something unreadable passed through his expression.

Then he looked away.

“Tch.”

That was all.

But he didn’t undo what you fixed.

People noticed long before either of you did.

“You two are ridiculous,” someone muttered after a mission briefing.

Zanka frowned immediately. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you act like you’re already—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

Too fast.

Too sharp.

You looked between them, confused. “Already what?”

“Nothing,” Zanka said immediately.

Silence.

Then someone sighed. “Exactly like that.”

You tilted your head slightly. “We’re just teammates.”

“Yeah,” Zanka agreed instantly.

A beat too quick.

Too automatic.

Nobody believed it.

You were sitting beside him later when he cleaned a small cut on his knuckles alone.

Badly.

You watched for a moment, then quietly reached out.

“Let me.”

“I can do it.”

“You’re missing it.”

“I’m not.”

You gently took his hand anyway.

He let you.

As always.

Your touch was careful, unhurried, like you were afraid even bandaging him too tightly might be another kind of harm.

“You rush,” you said softly.

“I don’t.”

“You do when you think no one’s watching.”

Zanka scoffed. “You think too much.”

You tied the bandage and lightly pressed it to check.

“I think enough,” you said.

He looked at you then.

For a second, just a second, like he forgot what he was about to say.

Then he clicked his tongue and looked away.

“…Annoying.”

But he didn’t pull his hand back.

It wasn’t just you taking care of him.

It was everything around him bending slightly toward your habits.

Zanka stopping when you didn’t follow.

You always noticing first when he got too quiet.

Zanka always ending up on the side closest to you without realizing.

You always carrying something for him before he even asked.

“Here,” you said once, offering water after a fight.

“I don’t need it.”

“You haven’t drunk anything.”

“I’m fine.”

You stepped a little closer, holding it patiently.

“Zanka.”

That was enough.

He took it.

Still grumbling. “You’re annoying.”

You blinked once, then gave a small, almost shy smile and looked away like you weren’t used to being the center of his attention.

“…Sorry.”

He paused slightly at that.

Then muttered, quieter, “Don’t apologize.”

It got worse in the small moments.

The ones nobody could explain away.

When Zanka grabbed your wrist during a collapsing structure and didn’t let go immediately after you were safe.

When he realized and released you like it burned him.

“Tch. Watch where you’re going.”

“I was watching.”

“Not enough.”

You rubbed your wrist lightly after, but didn’t say anything.

Neither did he.

Or when you laughed once—small, surprised—at something he said under his breath.

Zanka froze.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, blinking like you weren’t sure why you laughed either.

He stared at you a second too long.

“…Weird,” he muttered.

But he didn’t stop looking at you for the rest of the walk.

The mission that shifted everything didn’t announce itself.

It just broke apart like all the others eventually did.

Separation.

Noise.

Movement.

“Zanka?” you called once.

No answer.

You kept moving.

Because you always did.

Because stopping meant thinking.

And thinking meant fear.

He found you anyway.

“Move,” he said immediately, stepping between you and the threat.

“I had it handled.”

“No.”

That ended it.

He moved like something precise and unyielding, cutting through danger with familiar efficiency. You fell into step beside him without thinking, covering angles, reading him like a rhythm you’d memorized without realizing.

At one point, your shoulder brushed his back.

He shifted closer.

Not away.

Closer.

Like that was where you were supposed to be.

Like there had never been another option.

After it was over, silence settled heavily.

Zanka sat on a broken ledge, blood drying on his cheek, breathing steadying.

You walked over without hesitation.

He didn’t tell you to leave.

So you didn’t.

You crouched in front of him and gently turned his face toward the light.

“You’re hurt,” you said softly.

“I know.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s true.”

You didn’t argue.

Just pulled out a cloth and began cleaning his cheek carefully.

Zanka watched you.

Not the cloth.

You.

“You don’t have to keep doing this,” he said after a while.

“I know.”

“…Then why do you?”

A pause.

Your hands slowed slightly.

Then you said, very simply,

“Because you won’t.”

Silence stretched.

He clicked his tongue. “I can.”

“You don’t.”

That stopped him.

Not completely.

But enough.

Then quieter, almost like it slipped out unwillingly:

“You act like it matters too much.”

You looked at him briefly.

“It does.”

No hesitation.

No embellishment.

Just truth.

Zanka looked away.

“…Tch.”

But he didn’t move.

Not even when you finished and checked the bandage twice like you always did.

Later, someone said it again.

“You two are basically already a married couple.”

Zanka opened his mouth immediately.

You did too.

Then paused.

A beat too long.

“We’re not,” he said.

“…No,” you agreed softly.

And this time, it didn’t sound like denial.

Just habit.

Someone groaned. “That’s exactly what a married couple would say.”

Zanka clicked his tongue. “Shut up.”

But he didn’t leave.

Neither did you.

And for a moment that neither of you named, standing there side by side felt less like coincidence—

and more like something that had quietly been happening for a very long time already.

i hope this is what you're looking for. thank you for the request

likes and comment are appreciated

sure!

⋆.˚Shattered silence⇢zanka nijiku

-where there is love, there is life mahatma gandhi

synopsis: a quiet encounter between two people in a fractured world where one carries too much weight inside their own thoughts. gentle presence replaces pressure as silence becomes shared instead of isolating. small truths surface, not to fix pain, but to soften its edges and make staying feel a little less impossible.

content: f!reader, fluff, reassurance, hurt/comfort so on

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

The world always felt too sharp in places it shouldn’t.

You stood off to the side again without really meaning to. Not hiding exactly. Just… drifting there like it was easier than being fully present. Your hands stayed tucked in your sleeves, fingers curled tight around nothing in particular.

Your thoughts had been loud all day. The kind that don’t argue, just pile up. Little sentences repeating until they start sounding like truth.

You didn’t notice him approach at first.

Zanka was just there suddenly, like he’d always been a step behind you and only now decided to match your pace.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

You gave a small nod.

A pause.

His gaze stayed on you a moment longer than necessary. Not staring, just… noticing.

“You’ve been stuck in your head,” he added.

That made your fingers tighten slightly.

“I’m fine,” you said automatically.

He didn’t react to that the way people usually did. No pushback. No insistence. Just a quiet, unimpressed sound like he’d heard that line too many times to take it at face value.

You let the silence sit for a while, hoping it would pass.

It didn’t.

“I mess things up,” you said eventually, like it slipped out before you could catch it. “More than I should. I always feel like I’m behind everyone else. Like I’m… not doing things right.”

Your voice stayed low, but it felt heavier once it was out.

Zanka didn’t jump in right away.

When he spoke, it was slower. “You’re carrying that around all the time?”

You hesitated. That was answer enough.

He exhaled softly through his nose, like he was sorting through something he didn’t like seeing.

“That’s a lot to put on yourself,” he said.

You looked down. “It’s true though.”

A beat.

“I don’t think it is,” he said, simple and steady.

Not loud. Just there.

The space between you didn’t feel empty while he stood close. It felt… anchored.

“I see you trying,” he continued. “Even when you think no one notices. Even when you think it’s not enough.”

Your throat tightened a little, and you hated that it did.

You didn’t answer, so he went on, quieter now.

“And I see you still here. Even after all that noise in your head.”

The wind shifted somewhere above, dragging metal softly against metal.

You swallowed. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“No,” he said right away. Honest again. “It doesn’t fix it.”

A pause.

“But you don’t have to sit with it like you’re supposed to just endure it alone.”

That landed differently. Not like comfort forced onto you. More like something placed nearby and left open.

Zanka shifted slightly closer, not crowding you, just making the space between you smaller without asking permission for anything more.

“If it gets loud again,” he said, voice low, “don’t deal with it like it’s something you have to earn your way out of.”

A brief pause.

Then, almost under his breath, “I’m not going anywhere just because things get messy in your head.”

Something in your chest loosened, not suddenly, not completely. Just enough that breathing didn’t feel like pushing against something solid.

You huffed softly, looking away. “You’re kind of weird.”

A faint sound from him that might’ve been amusement. “Yeah. Heard that before.”

And for a while, neither of you said anything else.

But it didn’t feel like being alone anymore.

i hope this is what you're looking for. thank you for the request

likes and comment are appreciated

Yandere Tamsy x Wife reader

The Reader and Tamsy just moved to the Ground for Tamsy’s mission, though the reader does not know the true reason for their sudden move, Tamsy referred to it as a “Change of scenery”.

Tamsy loves his wife so much he would do anything not to lose her. One day while cleaning his room, The reader Stumbles upon the Watchman series and reads its contents about his plans with rudo, manipulating her into being the perfect wife, etc. Horrified she realizes how awful and dangerous her husband is she begins to avoid him as much as possible. even going as far as sleeping in her own room again. Tamsy investigates why she suddenly pulls back and realizes she read his book. In fear of loosing his precious wife, he corners her after getting her alone as she tries to run , and wipes her memories with said book but it goes a-little too far, and accidentally wipes all of her memories instead. Not remembering Tamsy, who or where she is, she freaks out. He takes her to Eishia and finds there is nothing she can do but she tells him finding triggers may work in getting her memories back. So tamsy decides its time to take his wife back him to the sphere in the safety of his castle in hope of getting his wife back

Please and Thank youuu🫶🏽

sure!

｡𖦹°‧Fragments of a Forgotten Marriage⇢tamsy caines

-Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down oprah winfrey 

synopsis: after a sudden loss of memory caused by hidden events in the past, a woman wakes up with no idea who she is or who the man beside her is. as small fragments of feeling and memory slowly return, she is guided through the truth of what was lost, and must decide whether trust and love can be rebuilt from the beginning.

content: f!reader, angst, betrayal, happy ending, so on

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

The move to the Ground had been sold to you as something simple.

A “change of scenery,” Tamsy had called it, like the world was a painting being rehung rather than a life being relocated. His hand had been warm around yours when he said it, his voice steady in that quiet way that always made you believe the world was safe as long as he was near.

So you went with him.

Because being with Tamsy always felt like choosing calm over chaos.

At first, the Ground was just unfamiliar—new air, new silence, new routines that Tamsy carefully shaped so nothing ever felt too sharp. He was attentive in a way that bordered on constant presence, but he framed it gently, like he simply liked being close.

And you liked him close too.

At least… you thought you did.

Until the day everything changed.

It happened while you were cleaning his room. He had been called away briefly, leaving the space unusually still. You moved through it out of habit, tidying things that didn’t really need tidying.

That’s when you found it.

A book, half-hidden under documents like it had been placed there and then immediately forgotten.

The Watchman Series.

You opened it without thinking much of it.

And then you couldn’t stop reading.

At first it felt like strategy. Cold, but harmless in its abstraction. But the further you went, the more it stopped feeling like fiction and started feeling like a map.

A map of people.

Of behavior.

Of outcomes.

And then your name appeared.

Not as someone loved.

Not as someone shared life with.

But as something carefully managed.

Kept within emotional boundaries.

Guided into predictability.

Ensured to remain “stable within attachment reinforcement cycles.”

Your stomach turned before your mind fully understood why.

Because it wasn’t just control.

It was certainty.

Like he had already decided what you would be… and simply built the world around it.

You closed the book so quickly it almost hurt your hands.

When Tamsy came back later, you didn’t say anything.

You just… changed.

Not dramatically.

Not in a way that could be easily confronted.

You stopped leaning into him when he stood too close. You began answering less freely, watching him longer before responding. Sleep became something you did alone again, quietly slipping into another room without explanation.

Tamsy noticed.

At first, he didn’t react. He simply observed, like he was waiting for something to resolve itself naturally. But the space between you started to feel different—less warm, more precise. Like a thread slowly tightening.

Then came the night he finally spoke.

You were halfway down a corridor when his voice stopped you.

Not loud.

Not sharp.

Just unmistakably directed at you.

“You read it.”

Everything in your body went still.

You didn’t turn fully at first. Because turning meant acknowledging that he knew exactly what had changed.

When you finally faced him, his expression was calm.

Too calm.

Like he had already processed every possible outcome.

“I didn’t want you to see that,” he said quietly.

That wasn’t an apology.

It was a correction.

Your breath tightened. “Is it true?”

Silence.

Not denial.

Not reassurance.

Just silence.

And that silence did something irreversible inside you.

You stepped back.

Then turned.

Then ran.

But the hallway didn’t behave like a hallway anymore.

It felt… wrong. Like space itself was no longer agreeing with your direction. The distance didn’t grow the way it should have. Every step felt slightly undone, as if you were moving but not leaving.

Tamsy’s presence closed in behind you without urgency.

Not chasing.

Just arriving.

“I can fix this,” he said softly.

That was the last thing you heard clearly.

Then something pressed against your awareness—not physical, not visible, but intimate in a way that made your thoughts blur at the edges.

Like someone was carefully opening a door inside your mind and deciding what stayed inside.

You gasped—

and everything unstitched.

When you woke up, there was no continuity to hold onto.

Just fragments of sensation and unfamiliar fear.

Cold stone beneath you.

A ceiling you didn’t recognize.

A man standing nearby who felt like something important you had lost the ability to name.

You recoiled immediately. “Don’t come closer.”

The words came out instinctively, like your body was protecting something your mind couldn’t explain.

His expression tightened.

Not anger.

Recognition of damage.

“You don’t remember me,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t a question.

You shook your head, breath uneven. “I don’t know who you are.”

A pause.

Then he softened his voice, deliberately. “My name is Tamsy.”

The name didn’t mean anything.

And yet it did.

It made your chest feel… uncertain. Like something inside you was trying to respond but couldn’t find the path.

Later, in a controlled, clinical room, Eishia examined your condition without alarm but with caution.

“The memory loss is not complete,” she concluded. “It’s fragmented. Suppressed layers. Emotional anchors remain, but they are inaccessible unless triggered.”

Tamsy listened without interrupting.

“What triggers?” he asked.

“Familiar environments,” she said. “Repetition. Emotional continuity. Things tied to strong associative memory.”

When she finished, there was a long silence.

Then Tamsy spoke again, quieter than before.

“And if she never comes back fully?”

Eishia didn’t answer quickly.

That was answer enough.

So he stopped trying to force anything.

Not because he suddenly became harmless.

But because forcing you had already destroyed what he wanted most.

Instead, he brought you to the Sphere.

A place you didn’t recognize but somehow didn’t feel entirely wrong in either. A place that felt like standing inside a half-remembered dream.

And he stayed near you.

Not tightly.

Not possessively.

Carefully.

You began to exist again in pieces.

You learned basic things first—rooms, paths, names. You learned his name more than once, as if each time it mattered differently.

“Tamsy,” you repeated one afternoon, testing it.

His expression changed subtly every time you said it.

Like it was both hope and consequence.

Days became slower.

Safer.

Less jagged.

But not empty.

Because something in you kept reacting to things you couldn’t explain.

Ink stains on old paper made your hands pause.

Certain corridors made your chest tighten.

Dreams left you waking with emotions that had no story attached.

And Tamsy never ignored those moments.

He noticed everything.

One evening, you stood beside him at a high window overlooking the Sphere. The world below looked distant enough to feel unreal, like it belonged to someone else entirely.

You spoke before you fully decided to.

“Do you ever feel like something important is missing?” you asked.

He didn’t answer immediately.

When he did, it was honest.

“Yes.”

That surprised you more than it should have.

You turned slightly toward him. “Me too.”

Silence settled between you, but it didn’t feel empty anymore.

It felt like pressure building beneath ice.

Then it happened.

Not like a flood.

Like a lock clicking open after being forced shut for too long.

Memories didn’t return cleanly.

They returned in pieces.

The book.

The realization.

The corridor.

The moment fear turned into running.

And the moment everything in your mind broke apart.

You swayed slightly.

Tamsy didn’t move.

He only watched you carefully, like if he interrupted, you might disappear again.

When you finally spoke, your voice was quieter.

“I remember enough.”

That made something in his face tighten.

Not relief.

Not panic.

Something closer to acceptance.

“I didn’t want to take you from yourself,” he said.

You looked at him fully now.

“I know.”

A pause.

Then you added, carefully, “But you did.”

That should have been the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

Because instead of denying it, he nodded once.

Like he was finally agreeing to carry the full weight of it.

“I know,” he said again. “And I won’t do it again.”

That wasn’t redemption.

But it was accountability.

And it mattered.

You stepped closer—not fully forgiving, not fully safe, but no longer running.

“I don’t know what we are now,” you admitted.

Tamsy exhaled slowly. “Neither do I.”

A beat.

Then, softer: “But I want to do it right this time.”

You studied him for a long moment.

Not the version who decided everything for you.

But the one standing in front of you now—still flawed, still responsible, still here.

Then you reached for his hand.

Not cautiously.

Not hesitantly.

Just choosing contact.

“I’m still here,” you said quietly.

His fingers closed around yours carefully, like he was relearning how to hold something that mattered without tightening too hard.

“And I will be,” he replied.

This time, the silence between you wasn’t control.

It was space.

And in that space, something unstable stopped collapsing long enough to begin becoming something else entirely—slow, imperfect, and finally shared.

i hope you like this. i always like writing your request.this time i decided to do happy ending. hope you like it and if you don't then please tell me where I am wrong, i will fix it.

likes and comments are appreciated

Idk I think it could be really cute, lol. Your writing is awesome, and I get so excited whenever you pop up in the tags <3

sure!

˗ˏˋRust Beneath the Rain⇢Jabber Wonger

-love is being stupid together paul valery

synopsis: in a rust-choked world of the sphere among the cleaners a soft spoken gentle worker tends wounds and repairs lives while a violent unpredictable former raider keeps returning drawn to her calm kindness what begins as enemies slowly becomes attachment as chaos meets warmth and danger turns into fragile care

content: f!reader, cute, funny, so on

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

Rainwater slid through the overflowing gutters of the Sphere like black ink, carrying scraps of trash and oil through the narrow streets below.

The Cleaner headquarters was louder than usual tonight.

Someone was yelling downstairs. Something metal crashed. A second later, another voice shouted back with enough fury to shake the walls.

Y/N barely reacted.

She sat quietly near one of the worktables, mending a ripped Cleaner uniform beneath the glow of a weak hanging lamp. Her fingers moved carefully through the fabric, soft and patient despite the chaos around her.

Across the room, Riyo Reaper sighed dramatically from where she sat upside down on the couch.

“You know,” Riyo muttered, swinging one leg lazily over the armrest, “normal people usually panic when Jabber starts breaking furniture.”

Another loud crash echoed downstairs.

Y/N threaded the needle again. “…Maybe it was already broken.”

“That’s optimistic.”

“It helps sometimes.”

Riyo stared at her for a moment before snorting under her breath. “You’re weird.”

Before Y/N could answer, another voice drifted in from the hallway.

“Pretty sure he’s the weird one.”

Zanka Nijiku leaned against the doorway holding a half-empty drink bottle, looking deeply exhausted already.

“Jabber tried to convince Rudo that throwing a chair at someone counts as diplomacy.”

From somewhere downstairs came:

“IT DOES IF IT WORKS!”

Another crash.

Then:

“JABBER, STOP THROWING THINGS!” a familiar voice shouted.

Rudo Surebrec, clearly.

Zanka pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

The door slammed open hard enough to bounce off the wall.

“There you are!”

Jabber pointed dramatically at Y/N like he’d finally located a criminal after a nationwide hunt.

He looked awful.

Dark hair damp with rainwater. Split lip. Fresh bruises along his jaw. One sleeve torn nearly to the shoulder.

And somehow he still wore the biggest grin in the room.

Behind him stood Rudo, breathing hard like he’d just run a marathon.

“I tried to stop him,” Rudo announced immediately.

“You tackled me into a wall!”

“Because you were carrying a pipe!”

“I needed emotional support!”

“That was plumbing!”

Y/N blinked quietly.

Riyo burst out laughing.

Even Zanka looked close to smiling.

Jabber dropped into the empty chair across from Y/N backwards, arms folded over the backrest.

“You got kicked out again?” Y/N asked softly.

“I did not get kicked out.” A pause. “…I was aggressively relocated.”

“That sounds like getting kicked out,” Zanka muttered.

“Traitor.”

Y/N set the uniform aside and reached for the med kit automatically.

Jabber watched her the entire time.

Openly.

Without shame.

Honestly, it would've been less noticeable if he’d screamed about it through a megaphone.

“You stare a lot,” Y/N murmured while opening antiseptic.

“You’re interesting.”

“I’m sewing.”

“Exactly.”

Rudo walked over beside Zanka and lowered his voice slightly.

“…Does he always look at her like that?”

“Yes,” Zanka answered immediately.

“It’s disturbing,” Riyo added.

“I can hear you,” Jabber said.

“We know,” all three replied at once.

Y/N shook her head faintly.

Jabber leaned closer across the chair.

When he’d first met her months ago, back when he was still fully working with Raiders, he’d expected fear.

Everyone feared him eventually.

He remembered cornering her during a fight, waiting for the panic to hit once she realized who stood in front of her.

Instead, she’d looked at the blood running down his arm and quietly asked:

“Doesn’t that hurt?”

Not angry.

Not scared.

Just worried.

It had completely short-circuited his brain.

Even now, after joining the Cleaners’ side in his own half-feral, barely cooperative way, she still treated him exactly the same.

Steady.

Warm.

Like she saw a person where everyone else saw a problem.

It made something ugly and restless twist inside his chest.

Y/N gently grabbed his chin to inspect the cut on his lip.

Jabber froze immediately.

Not visibly.

But internally? Catastrophic system failure.

“You should stop smiling with broken lips,” she said quietly.

“Can’t. My personality depends on it.”

“You have a terrible personality.”

“And yet you keep patching me up.”

Y/N dabbed antiseptic against the cut.

Jabber hissed. “Ow.”

“You literally laughed after getting hit through a wall yesterday,” Rudo pointed out.

“Yeah, but she uses scary medicine.”

Riyo made a gagging noise. “That’s revoltingly soft for you.”

“Shut up.”

Y/N looked unimpressed.

God, that expression was dangerous.

Not because it was intimidating.

Because it was soft.

Because every time she looked at him like that, he felt weirdly anchored. Like the noise in his head dulled for a second.

Like maybe he could stay still.

Which was horrifying.

“You’re bleeding through your sleeve too,” Y/N noticed.

“Hm?”

Before he could stop her, she carefully pushed back the torn fabric near his shoulder.

Bruises wrapped darkly across his skin.

Y/N’s brows furrowed immediately.

Jabber stared at her face instead of the injury.

There it was again.

That look.

That quiet concern.

Like his pain actually mattered.

He almost laughed at how badly it affected him.

“You really make that face every time I’m injured?” he asked.

Y/N blinked. “What face?”

“That one.”

“What one?”

“The…” He gestured vaguely. “Sad face.”

“I’m not making a sad face.”

“You totally are.”

“I think you hit your head too hard.”

“Probably.”

She finished wrapping the bandage around his shoulder carefully.

Her hands were gentle.

Jabber hated how much he noticed that.

Hated how he’d started looking for her first every time he returned from missions.

How the base felt irritatingly empty when she wasn’t around.

How he kept bringing her random junk from the city without thinking.

Last week it had been a small rusted charm shaped like a bird.

The week before, strange candy from a lower market stall.

Every single time he’d shoved it into her hands with something stupid like:

“Saw it. Don’t make it emotional.”

And every single time she smiled softly and thanked him like he’d handed her treasure.

It was ruining his life.

“You’re staring again,” Y/N said quietly.

Jabber blinked.

“…Your face is distracting.”

“That’s not a normal sentence.”

“I’m not normal.”

“That’s true.”

He barked out a loud laugh.

Then the emergency alarm rang.

Sharp.

Urgent.

The entire base shifted instantly.

Voices echoed downstairs.

Raiders nearby.

Enjin appeared at the doorway, coat thrown over one shoulder.

“Move,” he ordered calmly. “East sector.”

Everyone immediately straightened.

Even Jabber.

Y/N stood, but Jabber caught her wrist before she could move away.

His grin was gone.

“Stay close to the main group.”

Y/N looked surprised by the seriousness in his voice.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s not reassuring.”

Outside, rain hammered the streets hard enough to blur the neon lights into streaks of color.

The mission turned messy almost immediately.

Civilians trapped near collapsing structures.

Raiders attacking supply routes.

Smoke thick in the air.

Rudo and Zanka handled the front lines together while Enjin directed movement through the streets with calm precision.

Riyo darted through collapsing alleyways gathering civilians with sharp efficiency.

And Jabber…

Jabber kept ending up near Y/N without meaning to.

Or maybe fully meaning to.

Hard to tell.

At one point he landed beside her after literally throwing a Raider through a metal sign.

“You good?” he asked immediately.

Y/N nodded. “I’m okay.”

“Cool.”

Then he disappeared again before she could respond, launching himself back into the fight with wild laughter echoing through the street.

Completely insane.

Completely terrifying.

And somehow, weirdly dependable.

A sudden explosion rocked the alleyways nearby.

People screamed.

The ground shook violently beneath them.

Y/N stumbled hard as part of a damaged walkway collapsed beside her.

A Raider grabbed her arm before she could recover.

Jabber saw it happen from across the street.

Everything inside him snapped.

One second he was fighting three people.

The next he was already there.

The Raider barely had time to react before Jabber slammed him face-first into the concrete hard enough to crack it.

Another lunged toward Y/N.

Jabber moved faster.

Violent.

Brutal.

By the time the others reached the alley, the fight was already over.

Rain poured from the sky in heavy sheets.

Raiders scattered unconscious around the street.

Jabber stood in the center breathing hard, dark hair plastered to his face, one arm locked tightly around Y/N protectively.

Too tightly.

Like letting go would physically kill him.

Rudo slowed to a stop beside Zanka.

“…Wow,” he muttered.

Zanka took one look at Jabber’s expression and sighed deeply. “Yeah. He’s gone.”

Riyo appeared beside them moments later, staring openly.

“Oh, that man is finished finished.”

Even Enjin paused briefly nearby, eyes flicking from Jabber to Y/N before speaking flatly:

“Get them back to headquarters before Jabber commits twelve additional felonies.”

I hope this is what you're looking for, and again, thank you for the request. I appreciate it, and I like to write very much. It means a lot.

likes and comment are appreciated

Later, he found himself lingering nearby, pretending to work while actually listening in. When Y/n finally noticed him, he quickly looked away like he hadn’t been watching at all, ANDD UHH MAYBE AFTER THAT DAY ENJIN AND THE OTHERS PLANNED A DATE FOR THEM🥹 like a surprise date sayin it's an important mission turns out it's just for the two of them so that zanka can confess his love.

love this

✮⋆˙꩜ .ᐟClose Enough⇢zanka nijiku

-in true love it is the soul that envelops the body friedrich nietzsche

synopsis: a quiet mission leaves something behind that makes him stay closer than usual, like distance stops making sense. nothing dramatic happens, just a steady habit of being near you all the time. everyday things feel softer and slower, with small gestures replacing words, and space between you two slowly becoming unnecessary.

content: f!reader, fluff, so on

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

The afternoon in the Cleaners’ base had a strange kind of brightness today, the kind that bounced off metal tools and turned ordinary chatter into something almost musical.

Zanka had noticed her before he even admitted it to himself.

Y/N stood near the workbench, speaking softly to another cleaner. Her voice never rose too high, never rushed. It just… flowed. Like warm tea poured carefully so it never spilled.

And she was laughing.

That was the problem.

Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just that gentle laugh of hers, the one that made people feel like they’d said something worth remembering.

Zanka tightened his grip on his staff.

“…Tch.”

He didn’t mean to say it out loud.

Across the room, Enjin glanced over immediately, already wearing that knowing expression of his.

“Something wrong, Zanka?” Enjin asked casually, though his tone clearly meant I already know.

“No.” Zanka answered too fast.

Too sharp.

From another corner, Riyo Reaper peeked up from her work, eyes narrowing with sudden interest.

“Ohhh,” she hummed. “He’s doing that thing again.”

Zanka shot her a look. “What thing.”

“The ‘I am absolutely not jealous’ thing,” Riyo said sweetly.

“I am not jealous,” he repeated, like saying it harder would make it true.

But his eyes betrayed him.

They kept drifting back.

To Y/N.

To her smile.

To the way she tilted her head slightly when she listened, like every word mattered.

And every time she laughed at the other cleaner’s joke, something uncomfortably tight twisted in Zanka’s chest, like a knot being pulled too slow to ignore but too soft to fight.

He turned away.

Focused on cleaning.

Then stopped cleaning.

Started again.

Stopped again.

“…Why am I even—”

He cut himself off.

Across the room, Enjin leaned toward Riyo.

“He’s hopeless,” Enjin muttered.

Riyo nodded enthusiastically. “Completely.”

By late afternoon, Zanka had “accidentally” ended up near Y/N twice.

Not that he was following her.

Absolutely not.

He just happened to be working in adjacent areas.

Conveniently.

Very inconveniently for his dignity.

Y/N was still talking to the same cleaner, her voice soft as always. Zanka pretended to inspect equipment nearby, though his attention had clearly abandoned the task and gone wandering.

“…So then I told him,” the other cleaner said, “if you drop it one more time, I’m throwing you into the scrap pit myself.”

Y/N laughed again.

That same warm, kind of laugh that made everything feel lighter just by existing.

Zanka’s ears went slightly red.

He looked away immediately.

Like he hadn’t been staring for the past five minutes.

Like he hadn’t been listening to every syllable.

Like his entire focus hadn’t just been rearranged by her presence.

He adjusted his grip on his staff again.

Too tight.

“…Idiot,” he muttered under his breath, though he wasn’t sure if he meant himself or the situation.

Later that day, Enjin called a “mission briefing.”

Zanka didn’t question it. Cleaners got called for missions all the time.

But something felt… off.

Riyo was unusually excited.

Which was never a good sign.

When they gathered, Enjin stood at the front, arms crossed.

“We’ve got an important assignment,” he announced.

Zanka straightened immediately.

Finally. Something to focus on.

Enjin continued, “High priority. Sensitive. Requires discretion.”

Riyo nodded solemnly. “Very emotional stakes.”

Zanka frowned. “Just say the mission.”

Enjin smiled slightly.

“It’s a two-person infiltration.”

Zanka paused.

“…Two?”

“Yes,” Enjin said smoothly. “You and Y/N.”

Zanka’s brain stalled.

That was not what he expected.

At all.

From behind him, Riyo made a tiny celebratory sound.

Y/N, standing nearby, tilted her head slightly. “With me?”

Her voice was calm. Curious. No hesitation.

Zanka suddenly forgot how words worked.

“Yes,” Enjin said before Zanka could self-destruct in silence. “You’ll be working closely together. Very closely.”

Riyo leaned in, whispering dramatically, “Confess your love or perish.”

“I heard that,” Zanka snapped.

Enjin ignored him entirely.

“The mission will require staying together overnight,” Enjin continued.

Zanka’s soul briefly left his body.

Y/N just nodded gently, like it was all perfectly reasonable. “Alright. I’ll do my best.”

That simple calm acceptance did something worse than teasing ever could.

It made Zanka realize he was the only one panicking.

That evening, as they prepared to leave, Enjin clapped Zanka on the shoulder.

“Don’t overthink it,” he said quietly, voice softer now.

Zanka stiffened. “I don’t overthink.”

Riyo walked past, humming. “He definitely overthinks.”

Zanka did not respond.

Because Y/N had just stepped beside him.

“Ready?” she asked softly.

He looked at her.

Then quickly looked away.

“…Yeah.”

A pause.

Then, quieter than he intended:

“…I’m ready.”

And somewhere behind them, Enjin smiled like a man who had just successfully launched a very chaotic matchmaking operation.

“Good,” he murmured. “Let’s see what he does with it.”

The mission that wasn’t really a mission carried them farther than Zanka expected.

Farther in distance, yes. But worse… farther into silence he didn’t know how to handle.

Y/N walked beside him through the dim path between ruined structures, her steps steady, unhurried. Like she trusted the world not to rush her.

Zanka kept stealing glances.

And immediately regretting every single one.

She noticed none of it. Or maybe she did and was kind enough not to say anything. That was the thing about her—she made silence feel safe instead of empty.

After a while, they stopped near what was supposed to be their “mission site.” No enemies. No urgency. Just… space.

Too much space for Zanka’s thoughts.

Y/N crouched slightly, checking the area with calm focus. “It’s quiet,” she said softly. “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Zanka replied automatically.

Then silence again.

His grip tightened on his staff.

Not from danger.

From everything else.

Y/N looked at him then, slightly tilted her head. “Zanka… you’ve been quiet since earlier.”

“I’m always quiet,” he said too fast.

A small pause.

Then she smiled faintly. Not teasing.

“That’s not what I mean.”

That should’ve been the end of it.

But something in that tone… soft, patient, unpressuring… cracked something open in him instead of closing it.

His chest felt too full. Like all the words he never said had finally crowded him into a corner.

Zanka exhaled slowly.

“…I’m bad at this,” he muttered.

Y/N blinked. “Bad at what?”

“Everything involving… people.”

That made her expression soften in a way that almost hurt.

“That’s not true,” she said quietly. “You’re just quiet. That’s all.”

He laughed once, but it wasn’t really humor.

“No,” he said, and his voice came out more honest than he meant. “It’s not just that.”

He finally looked at her.

Really looked.

And didn’t look away this time.

“You talk to people like it’s easy,” he continued. “Like you don’t… hesitate. Like you don’t overthink every word.”

Y/N listened without interrupting. That was her way.

Zanka’s fingers tightened.

“And I keep…” he paused, jaw tightening like the words physically resisted him, “…not knowing where I stand when you’re around.”

A quiet breeze passed between them.

Her eyes softened further.

“Zanka…”

That was it.

His name, said like that, almost gently unraveling him.

He took a breath.

Then another.

And finally, like stepping off something too high before he could think better of it—

“I like you.”

The words landed between them.

Simple.

Undeniable.

Zanka didn’t move after saying them, like if he stayed perfectly still, he could outrun the consequences.

Y/N didn’t speak right away.

And that silence was worse than any monster they’d ever faced.

Then—

She smiled.

Not surprised.

Not shocked.

Just… warm.

Like she had been quietly understanding something long before he ever said it.

“I know,” she said softly.

Zanka blinked. “You… know?”

“I think,” she continued gently, “you’ve been telling me in your own way for a while.”

His ears went red immediately.

“That’s not— I wasn’t—”

A small, quiet laugh left her lips. Not teasing. Never that.

Just affectionate in the way she did everything.

“I like you too,” she added.

That shut him up completely.

For a full second, he just stared.

“…You do?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “I thought you already knew that.”

“I didn’t.”

That came out way too fast.

Y/N stepped a little closer, hands folded calmly in front of her.

“You don’t have to be good at talking,” she said. “I understand you anyway.”

That did it.

Something in Zanka’s composure finally gave up.

Not dramatically.

Just quietly surrendering.

“…Then what do I do now?” he asked, almost helplessly.

Y/N tilted her head, thoughtful.

Then she smiled again.

“Stay with me,” she said. “That’s enough.”

And for once, Zanka didn’t look away.

Somewhere far behind them, hidden just enough to avoid being noticed—

Enjin lowered his binocular-like gear with a satisfied sigh.

“Took him long enough.”

Beside him, Riyo Reaper clasped her hands together dramatically.

“I feel emotional damage and joy at the same time.”

Enjin nodded. “Good planning, though.”

Riyo gasped. “We are matchmaking geniuses.”

Enjin corrected mildly, “We are opportunists.”

Back at the “mission site,” Zanka still hadn’t moved much.

Y/N stood beside him now, close but not crowding.

He glanced at her once.

Then, carefully, like it was the most important decision he’d ever made—

“…So,” he said awkwardly, “this is fine?”

Y/N looked up at him.

And smiled that calm, steady smile again.

“Yes,” she said. “This is fine.”

Zanka exhaled.

“…Good.”

A pause.

Then, quieter:

“…I’m staying.”

Y/N nodded.

“I know.”

And somehow, that was the easiest mission Zanka had ever completed.

sure!

—「✦Small steps forward⇢zanka nijiku

-love is the bridge between you and everything rumi

synopsis: two quiet souls, both shy and unsure, sit side by side as the world around them fades away. every glance, every nervous pause, draws them closer. a gentle whisper, a hesitant lean, and suddenly, trust blossoms in a fragile first kiss.

content: f!reader, fluff, first kiss , so on

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

The air between you and Zanka was always charged, even when he didn’t mean it to be. Tonight, though, everything was still. The noise of the city faded into a quiet hum as you sat a few inches apart, but somehow closer than you’d ever been before.

You could barely meet his eyes. Your fingers fidgeted in your lap, and every time he glanced your way, your cheeks flushed. But he didn’t look away this time. His gaze lingered, and you noticed his own cheeks were slowly turning pink, a rare flush he couldn’t hide.

When you finally whispered his name, it was so soft you weren’t sure he heard. But he did. His hand twitched, and for a moment, his gaze dropped to the floor as if he couldn’t meet yours. Then, just as you were about to shrink back, he leaned in, slowly, like he was testing the air between you.

Your heart stopped.

His lips met yours, hesitant, as if he was afraid he might break something fragile. And you didn’t pull back. Instead, you met him halfway, every beat of your heart louder than the last.

When he pulled back, his forehead dropped slightly, and his voice was just a whisper. “I didn’t expect to feel that nervous.”

You smiled faintly, still feeling the warmth blooming in your chest. “I didn’t either.”

And, somehow, that was all you needed to know—no grand declarations, just two quiet hearts, suddenly a little braver than before.

Sorry if it might be too specific 🥹

sure!

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆Earrings⇢zanka nijiku

-i know i am in love with you because my reality is finally better than my dreams dr. seuss

synopsis: a quiet mission leaves something behind that makes him stay closer than usual, like distance stops making sense. nothing dramatic happens, just a steady habit of being near you all the time. everyday things feel softer and slower, with small gestures replacing words, and space between you two slowly becoming unnecessary.

content: f!reader, fluff, so on

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

The earrings came from a stall you weren’t supposed to stop at.

Not officially dangerous, just the kind of place support workers passed through without lingering. Scrap jewelry rebuilt from discarded metal, shaped into things that tried very hard to look intentional.

You didn’t plan to buy anything.

You only noticed them because of habit.

A pair of simple, clean metal pieces—close enough to what Zanka Nijiku wore that your attention snagged before you could stop it.

You stood there longer than you meant to.

Then you bought them.

No reason you could explain cleanly afterward.

And after that, you just… started wearing them.

Quietly.

Like they didn’t mean anything.

He didn’t notice at first.

That part mattered.

Zanka rarely noticed anything that didn’t interfere with a task. People were categorized quickly in his mind: useful, irrelevant, obstruction.

You stayed in the “support” space for a long time.

That was all.

Even on the day of the mission, it stayed that way.

You were assigned rear support. Mapping unstable scrap zones, confirming safe paths for the sweep team ahead.

He was already ahead of you when the structure failed.

There wasn’t a dramatic warning.

Just a shift.

A weak point giving up under redistributed weight.

You stepped where you were told was safe.

It wasn’t.

The ground didn’t “collapse” so much as it stopped existing as something that would hold you.

For a second, there was no sound.

Then your body dropped—

and stopped halfway.

A grip locked onto your upper arm and yanked you back hard enough that your breath broke.

You hit solid scrap instead of the gap below.

Zanka released you immediately.

Like it had been nothing more than a correction in motion.

He didn’t ask if you were injured.

He didn’t check your reaction.

His eyes were already on the fracture line.

“…Wrong mark,” he said.

Not accusation. Just conclusion.

You sat there a moment, catching up to your breathing.

“I followed the map,” you said quietly.

He didn’t respond to that.

His attention shifted—briefly—past your face.

Stopped.

On your ear.

The earrings.

That pause was subtle. Almost nothing.

But it existed.

“…Those weren’t issued,” he said.

You blinked, then instinctively touched them.

“I bought them,” you answered.

A beat.

Then, softer:

“They look like yours.”

Silence.

Not the kind that waits for emotion.

The kind that evaluates usefulness.

Zanka’s gaze didn’t change expression, but it stayed on the earrings a fraction longer than expected.

Then back to your face.

“You’re wearing unnecessary items in field conditions,” he said.

It wasn’t personal.

It never was, with him.

You nodded quickly. “I can take them off.”

A pause.

Then, slightly lower:

“…No.”

You looked up at that.

His eyes were already turning away.

“Just don’t lose focus again.”

And he walked forward.

No follow-up.

No second glance.

Just distance re-established like it had never been disturbed.

But the strange part was not what he said.

It was that he had looked at you twice in the same moment.

That alone didn’t mean anything.

Not yet.

Prince Tamsy x Pregnant reader

In which the reader is an ordinary Tribes woman who caught The princes eye, set to marry Tamsy once their baby is born, but one afternoon after overhearing the higher ups whispering about tamsy’s plans to kill regto and send rudo to the ground to break him, in horror, she runs away. Then caught and found by one of Tamsy’s jealous admirers and framed for stealing from her. She is then sent to the ground where Shortly afterwards, she gives birth to their child with the help of the cleaners. She never thought she would run into her soon-to-be husband at her snd her babies place of refuge. What will he do once he finds her, knowing she purposefully ran away with his baby, but not knowing the full story about how she got to the ground.

Please and Thank you💕

i love this

‧₊˚The prince who threw her away⇢tamsy caines

-love is whatever you can still betray. Betrayal can only happen if you love john le carre

synopsis: a tribal woman falls in love with a prince who becomes her entire world in quiet, dangerous ways. before she can tell him she is pregnant, she overhears a political plan and is falsely accused of theft by a jealous admirer. abandoned to the ground, she survives alone for three years until he finally finds her again beside the son he never knew existed.

content: f!reader, angst, betrayal, no happy ending, so on

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

song to listen to and this too

Rainwater dripped from the torn cloth stretched above the alleyway, tapping steadily into the bucket beside your feet.

Your aunt kept talking while sorting scraps across the table between you both, but your attention drifted somewhere past the market noise, past the shouting vendors and rusted rooftops.

“Don’t stare off like that,” she muttered. “You’ll hand someone the wrong thing again.”

You blinked and quickly lowered your head. “S-sorry…”

A quiet snort came from beside her.

“See? She’s thinking about somebody.”

Warmth climbed into your face instantly.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m n-not.”

Your aunt laughed under her breath and pushed another folded cloth toward you.

You grabbed it too quickly and nearly dropped the entire stack.

That only made them laugh harder.

You tried hiding your face behind the pile while your ears burned.

Unfortunately, it did not help.

Because the person stepping into the stall at that exact moment saw all of it.

The laughter stopped first.

Then the entire little corner of the market seemed to straighten around his presence without meaning to.

Prince Tamsy stood just outside the hanging fabric sheets, dark coat still damp from the rain.

Your stomach dropped.

Not from fear.

Something far more embarrassing.

Your aunt recovered first.

“Your Highness.”

Tamsy barely acknowledged the greeting before his eyes landed on you.

You immediately looked down.

“You finished the repairs?” he asked.

Your voice caught slightly. “Y-yes.”

“Bring them.”

You nodded too quickly and nearly knocked over the basket beside your feet.

Again.

Your aunt covered a grin with her hand while you scrambled to fix it.

Tamsy watched silently.

Which somehow made it worse.

You first met him months before that.

Not through romance.

Not through fate.

Because your aunt took work repairing torn gloves and coats used by people connected to the palace routes.

You mostly handled stitching.

Quiet work suited you.

Then one evening, a guard arrived carrying a dark coat with the sleeve ripped nearly to the shoulder.

You reached for it automatically.

The guard stopped you.

“Careful with that.”

Your hands pulled back immediately. “S-sorry.”

“That belongs to Prince Tamsy.”

Your fingers froze.

Your aunt took over after that, but halfway through the repair, she shoved the coat back toward you.

“You did cleaner stitching.”

“I-I don’t think I should—”

“Just fix it.”

So you did.

Tiny careful stitches.

Trying not to imagine the person wearing it.

Trying very hard not to wonder.

Three days later, he came himself.

You were crouched beside the table sorting thread when your aunt suddenly kicked your foot hard enough to make you yelp.

“Ow—!”

“Stand up.”

You looked up.

And immediately wished you hadn’t.

Tamsy stood there, one gloved hand resting against the stall frame.

Your throat went dry.

Then his gaze shifted toward the repaired sleeve.

“You did this?”

You stared for half a second too long before realizing he spoke to you.

“O-oh. Y-yes.”

His fingers brushed over the stitching.

Silent.

Your stomach twisted.

Then:

“Better than the palace work.”

Your aunt looked unbearably pleased.

You looked like you wanted the ground to split open beneath you.

After that, he kept returning.

Sometimes with repairs.

Sometimes with nothing at all.

At first your aunt stayed nearby whenever he visited.

Eventually she stopped bothering.

The entire market noticed anyway.

Prince Tamsy standing beside a tribal repair stall became impossible not to notice.

You hated when people stared.

Especially when he was there.

One afternoon, while resewing the inside lining of one of his gloves, you could feel his eyes on your hands again.

It made you nervous enough that the needle slipped.

You hissed softly.

Tamsy reached forward immediately.

“Show me.”

“It’s fine.”

“Your hand.”

You slowly opened your fingers.

A tiny bead of blood welled near your fingertip.

His thumb brushed against it before you could pull away.

Your breathing stumbled instantly.

“You’re shaking.”

“S-sorry…”

His eyes lifted to yours.

“For what?”

That only made your face hotter.

The first time he kissed you happened after closing hours.

Rain hammered against the market roofs while you locked the stall shutters.

You nearly jumped when his hand caught the edge of the wooden panel before it closed fully.

“Tamsy—”

“You’re avoiding me.”

Your stomach tightened.

“I-I’m not.”

“You left twice this week before I arrived.”

You looked down quickly. “I thought you were busy.”

“And that means you disappear?”

“No…”

His gaze stayed on your face for a long moment.

Then his fingers tilted your chin upward gently.

The rain sounded louder suddenly.

Your breath caught when he leaned down.

The kiss was slow.

Warm.

Careful enough to make your chest ache.

When he pulled back, your mind completely stopped working.

“S-sorry,” you blurted instantly.

One of his brows lifted.

“…Why.”

“I d-don’t know.”

For the first time since meeting him, you heard him laugh softly.

Not polite.

Not restrained.

Real.

You thought about that sound for weeks afterward.

Months passed.

And somehow, he became part of your life so naturally it frightened you sometimes.

He would sit near your worktable while you stitched.

Sometimes neither of you spoke for long stretches.

Other times he talked quietly about things you barely understood politically but listened to anyway because you liked hearing his voice.

And sometimes—

sometimes he touched you like he already belonged there.

A hand at your waist while passing behind you.

Fingers brushing your wrist.

His forehead resting briefly against yours late at night when nobody could see.

You loved him so badly it hurt.

The night you found out you were pregnant, you cried quietly into your blanket so your aunt wouldn’t hear.

Not because you regretted it.

Because happiness felt terrifying.

You kept pressing your shaking hand against your stomach like it would make it more real.

A baby.

His baby.

You spent the next two days trying to figure out how to tell him.

Every version sounded wrong.

“T-Tamsy, I’m—”

No.

Too sudden.

“I need to tell you something…”

No. Worse.

By the third day, your aunt finally snapped.

“You’ve been blushing at walls for forty-eight hours. Tell him already.”

Your face burned instantly.

“I-I will.”

“When?”

“…Soon.”

“You’re hopeless.”

You truly meant to tell him that night.

You really did.

But while walking through one of the palace halls toward his chambers, voices reached you through a partially opened door.

“…Regto’s removal is already in motion.”

“And Rudo?”

“He’ll be sent below.”

A pause.

Then another voice:

“And the tribal girl?”

Your chest tightened instantly.

Tamsy answered this time.

Cold. Detached.

“She isn’t important enough to affect the outcome.”

Something inside you went quiet.

Not shattered.

Not dramatic.

Just—

quiet.

Your hand slowly slipped from your stomach.

Then footsteps sounded behind you.

You turned sharply.

A woman stood there.

Beautiful clothes. Sharp smile.

You recognized her immediately.

One of the women constantly hovering near Tamsy during formal gatherings.

Her eyes flicked briefly toward your stomach before returning to your face.

Then she smiled wider.

“There you are.”

Something cold slid down your spine.

You never reached him after that.

Guards stopped you halfway down the corridor.

The woman gasped softly behind them.

“My necklace is gone.”

You blinked in confusion.

“What?”

“It disappeared after she passed.”

“That’s not true—”

The guards were already grabbing your bag.

Your pulse spiked violently.

One of them reached inside.

Then slowly pulled out a silver necklace.

Your blood turned to ice.

“I-I didn’t put that there.”

The woman stepped back dramatically. “I knew letting tribal people wander freely would end badly.”

“No— please, I d-didn’t take anything—”

“Enough.”

The voice cut through the corridor sharply.

Tamsy.

Your head snapped upward so quickly it hurt.

Relief hit first.

Immediate. Desperate.

“Tamsy—”

His eyes moved from the necklace… to you.

Unreadable.

You took one shaky step toward him.

“I swear, I didn’t—”

“She was near my room earlier,” the woman interrupted softly.

Silence.

You waited.

Your chest hurt from how hard your heart slammed against it.

Waiting for him to say they were wrong.

Waiting for him to stop this.

Instead—

“Search the rest of her belongings.”

The world dropped out beneath your feet.

You stared at him.

“No…”

Your voice cracked.

“T-Tamsy…”

He did not move.

Did not defend you.

And suddenly you understood something awful.

You loved him.

But he was still a prince first.

The descent to the Ground was not fast.

That was the cruelest part.

They dragged you through crowded streets while people watched openly.

Some looked disgusted.

Some looked entertained.

Nobody looked surprised.

Your wrists burned against the restraints.

You kept trying to breathe normally.

It wasn’t working.

“Tamsy…”

The name came out small.

Broken.

One of the guards shoved you forward harder.

“Quiet.”

You stumbled painfully.

Your hands moved instinctively toward your stomach before the chains yanked them back down.

Fear finally hit fully then.

Not for yourself.

For the baby.

Please.

Please.

At the edge of the city, the massive pit stretched open beneath the night sky.

Dark.

Endless.

The smell rising from below made your stomach twist violently.

You stopped walking.

Pure instinct.

“No…”

A guard grabbed your arm harder.

“No, wait— p-please—”

Nobody listened.

You twisted desperately toward the crowd one last time.

Looking for him.

Please.

Please just once.

And for one horrible second—

you found him.

Standing above the others.

Watching.

Rain streaked across his face.

His expression remained unreadable even now.

Your breathing broke completely.

“Tamsy…”

Nothing.

No movement.

No command to stop them.

Just silence.

The guard shoved you forward.

And the world disappeared beneath your feet.

The fall stole the scream from your throat.

Everything afterward came in pieces.

Pain.

Filth.

Blood.

Darkness.

People shouting somewhere nearby.

Hands dragging you from wreckage.

Your body curled instinctively around your stomach before you even fully woke.

The baby.

The baby.

The baby.

Still there.

You cried so hard you nearly threw up.

The Ground was cruel in ways words could not hold properly.

You learned quickly.

Eat when possible.

Sleep lightly.

Trust carefully.

And survive.

Because now you weren’t alone anymore.

Months later, when labor started during a storm, you thought you were going to die.

A woman from one of the shelters stayed beside you through the entire night.

“Breathe.”

“I-I can’t—”

“Yes you can.”

The pain ripped through you violently.

You screamed into your own arm to keep from frightening the others nearby.

Then finally—

a cry.

Tiny.

Sharp.

Alive.

The woman carefully placed the baby against your chest.

And suddenly every horrible thing that happened to you felt far away for one single moment.

Your son blinked up at you sleepily.

Perfect.

You started crying immediately.

Not softly.

Not quietly.

You held him against your chest like the world might steal him too.

“It’s okay,” you whispered shakily.

“I’ve got you…”

Three years passed.

Three years of hunger.

Three years of cold nights and leaking roofs.

Three years of your son curling against your side while sleeping.

He had Tamsy’s eyes.

That hurt the most.

Sometimes he would touch your face sleepily before bed.

“Mama?”

“Yes?”

“Were you lonely before me?”

Your throat tightened painfully.

“…A little.”

Then his tiny arms would wrap around your neck.

And somehow that made everything worse.

The night Tamsy found you again, rain hammered against the broken shelter roof hard enough to shake it.

Your son slept curled against your chest while you fixed tears in one of his shirts beside a weak lantern.

Then suddenly—

silence.

Not outside.

Inside you.

That awful instinct that someone dangerous had entered the space nearby.

Footsteps approached slowly through the mud.

You looked up.

And your entire body froze.

Tamsy stood in the doorway.

Rain soaked through his dark coat.

For a second nobody moved.

Then your son stirred sleepily against you.

Tiny hands rubbing at his eyes.

Tamsy’s gaze snapped downward instantly.

Everything in him stopped.

The boy blinked sleepily back at him.

Same eyes.

Same stare.

Same shape around the mouth.

Your son frowned slightly. “Mama… who’s that?”

Your grip tightened around him automatically.

Tamsy looked at the child like the world had just split open in front of him.

“…Who is he.”

Your throat closed painfully.

“My son.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Violent.

Tamsy stared at the boy’s face again.

Then slowly—

very slowly—

understanding entered his expression.

“You were pregnant.”

Not a question.

You looked away first because suddenly seeing him hurt too much.

“I was g-going to tell you.”

“And you ran.”

Something inside you cracked at the wording.

A small laugh escaped you.

Broken. Breathless.

“Ran?”

Your son pressed closer against you from the tension in your voice.

You held him tighter immediately.

“They accused me of stealing.”

No response.

“You watched.”

His jaw tightened slightly.

“I was given evidence.”

“You were given an excuse.”

That landed.

Rain pounded harder outside.

“Tamsy, they threw me into the Ground while I was carrying your child.”

The words finally sounded real saying them aloud.

You saw it hit him.

Actually hit him.

For the first time since entering, Prince Tamsy looked shaken.

Not controlled.

Not composed.

Shaken.

His eyes dropped toward the boy again.

Your son hid his face against your shoulder nervously.

“He’s scared of you,” you whispered.

That landed harder than anything else.

Tamsy looked physically ill for one brief second.

Then gone again.

“I didn’t know.”

Your eyes burned instantly.

“You didn’t ask.”

Silence.

Your breathing turned uneven.

“You stood there while they threw me away.”

The tears finally spilled before you could stop them.

“And I still waited for you.”

Your son lifted his head slightly at that, confused by your crying.

Tiny fingers touched your cheek carefully.

“Mama…”

That broke something in the room completely.

Tamsy stared at the child touching tears off your face with tiny hands.

A child that should have known him.

A child that should have grown up above.

A child that spent three years in hell because he chose silence.

And suddenly the prince who always had an answer—

had none at all.

I had this idea sitting in my head and I thought I might as well get it out somewhere lol

Do you think you could write a x (fem)reader fic, where Zanka got some kind of poison or toxin in his system that makes him extremely clingy? Like EXTREMELY clingy

I thought it would be so cute to get the cleaners reaction to an out of character zanka who is attached to reader at the hip and is constantly looking for her attention

Anyway hope you have a great rest of your day!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

sure!

꒰ ♡ ꒱Toxin⇢zanka nijiku

-i love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. i love you simply, without problems or pride pablo neruda

synopsis: a quiet mission leaves something behind that makes him stay closer than usual, like distance stops making sense. nothing dramatic happens, just a steady habit of being near you all the time. everyday things feel softer and slower, with small gestures replacing words, and space between you two slowly becoming unnecessary.

content: f!reader, fluff, toxin , so on

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

Nobody noticed the toxin at first because Zanka still looked normal.

He still talked the same. Still fought the same. Still had that permanently irritated expression like the world personally offended him.

The only difference was that he suddenly could not handle being away from you.

At first it was small.

You’d get up during meetings and he’d immediately look up.

You’d leave a room and less than a minute later he’d appear in the doorway too, acting like it was coincidence.

Then it got worse.

“Where are you going?”

You looked up from tying your shoes. “Outside?”

“For what?”

“…Fresh air?”

“I’ll come.”

You blinked. “Zanka, I’m literally just sitting outside.”

“Okay.”

“Okay… what?”

“I said I’m coming.”

Like that settled everything.

Honestly, it probably would’ve been less weird if he acted embarrassed about it, but he genuinely didn’t seem to realize he was acting strange.

Meanwhile the rest of the Cleaners were losing their minds.

Rudo watched Zanka follow you into the kitchen for the fourth time that day.

You were pouring yourself a drink when you felt someone behind you again.

You didn’t even need to turn around anymore.

“You know,” you said carefully, “most people knock before entering rooms.”

“I did.”

“You opened the door and walked in.”

“That counts.”

You finally looked over at him and almost laughed.

He looked genuinely serious.

Arms crossed. Standing close enough that your shoulder brushed his chest every time you moved.

“You’ve been following me all day.”

“You’ve been leaving all day.”

“That’s how moving works.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, like he didn’t appreciate your sarcasm.

Then, without warning, he reached over and grabbed the sleeve of your hoodie.

Not aggressively.

Just holding it.

Like a kid who didn’t want their favorite person walking away.

You stared down at his hand.

Then back at him.

“…Zanka.”

“What?”

“Why are you holding my sleeve?”

“You move too much.”

Rudo nearly hit the floor laughing.

“You sound insane right now!”

Zanka ignored him completely and looked at you instead.

“You were gone for twenty minutes earlier.”

“I was showering.”

“You didn’t say where you were going.”

“I didn’t think I needed permission?”

“You don’t.”

“Then why are you upset?”

“I’m not upset.”

He absolutely sounded upset.

You bit back a smile.

The toxin really had destroyed whatever emotional filter he normally had because this was basically Zanka saying I missed you and being mad about it.

Which, honestly, was kind of adorable.

In a terrifying way.

Later that night, you were sitting in the common room reading when Zanka walked in.

The second he saw you, his entire posture relaxed.

Not dramatically.

Just enough that you noticed.

He immediately came over and sat beside you.

Very beside you.

Like thigh pressed against yours, arm touching yours, practically glued to your side.

You lowered your book slowly. “Comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“There’s an entire couch.”

“I know.”

“…Then why are you sitting on me?”

“I’m not.”

“You kind of are.”

“I barely am.”

You laughed softly and shook your head.

The sound made him glance at you immediately.

Not annoyed.

Just focused.

Like every tiny reaction from you had suddenly become important to him.

“You’re clingy today,” you teased gently.

“No.”

Rudo, walking by at the perfect moment, stopped dead.

“THAT IS THE BIGGEST LIE I’VE EVER HEARD.”

Zanka looked genuinely irritated at the interruption.

“Go away.”

“You used to act like holding hands was a going end the world!”

“I still do.”

“You are literally sitting in her skin right now!”

You started laughing again while Zanka glared at Rudo hard enough to kill plants.

Then, like he completely forgot anybody else existed, he turned back toward you and suddenly leaned over until his head dropped into your lap.

You froze.

So did everybody else.

Zanka never initiated affection like this in front of people.

Ever.

But now he just looked… tired.

Comfortable.

His arms loosely wrapped around your waist while he buried his face against your stomach like he’d been wanting to do that all day.

Your expression softened instantly.

“Aww,” you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair.

The reaction was immediate.

He melted.

Actually melted.

His shoulders dropped, his grip tightened slightly around you, and he let out the quietest breath against your hoodie.

Rudo looked like he was witnessing history.

“…Enjin.”

“What?”

“I think she domesticated him.”

“No,” Enjin said calmly. “The toxin did.”

Your fingers kept moving through Zanka’s hair slowly, gently, and after a minute he mumbled against your stomach:

“Don’t stop.”

Your heart nearly exploded.

“You’re cute right now,” you teased softly.

“No I’m not.”

“You’re laying in my lap.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

He looked up finally, expression completely serious.

“You make me calm.”

The room went quiet for a second.

Because under all the clinginess and weird behavior, that part sounded painfully honest.

You smiled softly and brushed his bangs back. “You're clingy today. In a nice way.”

“Because it's you.”

Rudo grabbed Enjin’s shoulder violently.

“HE CAN SAY THINGS LIKE THAT?!”

XD <3 love your works btw

okayy!!

₊‧꒰აUnspoken Warmth⇢tamsy caines

-the very first moment I beheld him, my heart was irrevocably gone jane austen

synopsis: in the ruins, you are a support recorder focused only on documenting movement when a sudden attack breaks your position. you are pulled away just before impact and steadied so you don’t fall. afterward, you can’t stop thinking about the person who saved you, and quiet admiration begins.

content: f!reader, fluff, love at first sight , so on

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

The mission area was crowded with broken buildings and hanging metal beams, making it hard to move without watching your step.

You were supposed to be documenting the route changes and trash beast movement patterns, but somewhere along the way you got too absorbed in checking your recordings.

Again.

Your file was still lifted near your face when the sound of metal snapping echoed above you.

You looked up too late.

Part of the collapsed structure came down first.

Then the trash beast dropped with it.

Everything happened at once.

Before you could move, something caught around your waist and pulled you sharply out of the way.

Your feet left the ground for a second before you were pulled safely beside someone.

You nearly lost balance when you landed.

A hand steadied your waist immediately.

Tamsy glanced down at you while retracting Tokushin.

“You okay?”

You nodded quickly, still trying to process what had just happened. “Y-Yeah…”

“Good.”

His hand slipped away once you were standing properly again.

“Stay near me.”

Then he turned back toward the trash beast before it could charge again.

You stayed exactly where you were.

Not because he told you to.

Because your legs suddenly didn’t trust themselves enough to move anywhere else.

By the end of the mission, your hands still felt strangely warm every time you remembered the way he had pulled you against him so easily.

You sat near the transport truck checking damaged footage while everyone else moved around cleaning equipment and talking.

You were trying very hard to focus.

It wasn’t working.

Your mind kept replaying the same moment over and over.

The pull at your waist.

His hand steadying you.

The quiet “You okay?”

“You’re staring at the same page.”

Your head jerked up.

Tamsy stood nearby, looking down at the file in your hands.

“Oh— I…”

You looked away immediately, embarrassed at getting caught.

“I was checking if the page got damaged.”

“Hm.”

He crouched slightly beside you and held his hand out.

“Lemme see it.”

You carefully handed him the file.

Your fingers brushed his for barely a second and you immediately looked down again.

He replayed part of the footage silently.

The camera shook violently right before the moment he pulled you away from the falling debris.

“You didn’t notice the shadow.”

“…No.”

“You focus too much on recording.”

You held your sleeves tighter in your hands. “I know…”

He handed the recorder back.

“For someone who misses their surroundings that much, you stay weirdly calm.”

You blinked at him. “Calm…?”

“Yeah. You didn’t panic.”

“I think I was too shocked to do anything.”

That earned the smallest reaction from him. Barely there. Almost amused.

Your chest felt warm again.

“You should still watch around you more,” he said while standing back up.

“I will.”

Your answer came out soft and quick.

He looked at you for another second before walking off toward the others.

And unfortunately for you, that single glance stayed in your head for the rest of the night.

I HOPE YOU GET WHAT I MEAN I'M NOT GOOD AT THIS😭

okai i get it

── · ˚The Boy From the Storm⇢tamsy caines

-the very first moment I beheld him, my heart was irrevocably gone jane austen

synopsis: caught in a deadly trash storm beneath the sphere, a shy girl is saved by a quiet stranger before the collapsing debris can crush her. with the streets destroyed and nowhere safe to go, she spends the night in his small room, slowly finding comfort, warmth, and the beginning of feelings she doesn’t understand yet.

content: f!reader, fluff, love at first sight , so on

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

The storm sirens went off too late.

By then, the streets under the Sphere were already chaos.

Trash currents ripped through the alleyways, carrying broken pipes, pieces of metal, shattered furniture, things too dangerous to even recognize once they started flying through the air. People were running past you fast enough to knock shoulders. Somewhere nearby, something huge collapsed with a horrible screech.

You tried to keep moving.

Really.

But the noise was overwhelming.

One wrong step made you stumble against uneven concrete, and when you looked up, your stomach dropped.

A massive pile of junk had broken loose above the alley.

It was falling straight toward you.

Your body froze.

You couldn’t think.

Couldn’t move.

Then suddenly someone grabbed your wrist hard enough to pull you forward.

You nearly crashed into them as they dragged you into a side passage just before the pile slammed into the ground behind you. The impact shook the walls.

Dust filled the air.

Your breathing came out uneven as you looked up at the person standing in front of you.

Tamsy.

For a second, you just stared.

The dim emergency lights flickered across his face while the storm raged outside the alley entrance. He looked completely steady compared to everything around him.

His grip loosened once he realized you could stand on your own.

“…You need to pay attention.”

His tone wasn’t mean.

Just calm. Straightforward.

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out at first.

Your heart was beating way too fast.

“O-oh… sorry.”

His eyes flicked toward your face for a second before he glanced away again.

“…Are you hurt?”

You quickly shook your head. “No. I’m okay.”

That was obviously not true.

Your hands were trembling badly.

Tamsy noticed immediately.

But he didn’t point it out again.

Another loud crash echoed outside, making you flinch before you could stop yourself.

The alley behind you was completely blocked now by debris.

Tamsy looked toward it briefly.

“…You’re not getting home tonight.”

You blinked. “What?”

“The paths are blocked.” He paused. “It’s worse farther down.”

The realization made your chest tighten a little.

You hadn’t even thought about where you were supposed to go now.

Tamsy adjusted the strap resting against his shoulder before looking back at you.

“Come with me.”

His room was quieter than the streets outside.

Small. A little cluttered. Tools and spare parts scattered around shelves and tables, like he’d been working before the storm started.

It felt warm though.

Comfortable in a way you didn’t expect.

You stood awkwardly near the doorway while Tamsy took off his gloves and set them down.

“You can sit.”

You nodded quickly and sat carefully on the edge of the bed.

Your heart still hadn’t calmed down.

Tamsy grabbed a towel from nearby and handed it to you.

“There’s dust in your hair.”

Your fingers brushed his accidentally when taking it.

Your face heated up instantly.

“T-thank you.”

He gave a small nod and moved away again like he hadn’t noticed anything.

You wished your heartbeat would stop embarrassing you.

The storm outside kept roaring against the buildings. Every now and then another loud crash would shake the walls slightly.

You tried not to react to the noise.

Tried very hard.

But when something screeched loudly outside, your shoulders jumped anyway.

Tamsy looked over.

“…You scared of storms?”

You looked down at your hands a little. “…Yeah.”

He was quiet for a moment after that.

Then he walked over to a shelf, grabbed an extra blanket, and placed it beside you.

“You can stay here tonight.”

Your eyes widened immediately. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“It’s fine.”

“I can sleep on the floor if you want.”

“You’ll sleep properly on the bed.”

Simple as that.

Like there wasn’t even a reason to argue.

You held the blanket carefully in your hands. “…Thank you.”

Tamsy sat beside the wall afterward, looking tired now that things were finally quiet.

The lights flickered once overhead.

Another loud noise echoed outside.

Without realizing it, you shifted a little closer toward him.

The moment you noticed, you froze in embarrassment.

“S-sorry.”

Tamsy looked at you for a second before letting out a quiet breath.

“…You apologize a lot.”

Your cheeks burned.

“I’m sorry.”

That made him glance at you again.

Not annoyed.

Almost amused.

A tiny bit.

“You just did it again.”

You covered part of your face with the blanket immediately, mortified.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly before he looked away.

After a while, you carefully laid down beside him, still nervous, still warm in the face every time he looked your way.

But the longer you stayed there, listening to the steady sound of his breathing beneath the storm outside, the safer you started to feel.

And somewhere in the middle of all that noise and exhaustion, you realized you were already falling for him.

sure! love the idea of that

 ₊˚⊹The grumpy twins⇢zanka nijiku

-a son always looks up to his father, no matter how tall he grows dad blog

synopsis: a cleaner teases her grumpy boyfriend about how much he looks like their quiet teammate, treating the teammate like their “child” in a running joke. behind the humor, small moments of care and protection slip through, slowly revealing a soft, unspoken bond between them as they survive dangerous missions together.

content: f!reader, fluff, teasing, so on

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

The thing nobody understood except you was that Zanka Nijiku and Dear Santa had the exact same flavor of attitude.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

Just this permanent, quiet irritation with the world.

Like both of them woke up every morning already disappointed.

Which was why you were currently trying not to laugh yourself to death watching them stand beside each other during a Cleaner briefing.

Because somehow, without planning it, they were standing the same way.

Arms crossed.

Same tired expressions.

Same vaguely threatening aura.

Even the slight tilt of their heads matched.

You stared for a long moment.

Then slowly raised your hand.

“Question.”

Zanka immediately looked suspicious.

“…What.”

You pointed between him and Dear Santa.

“Did you split mitosis-style at some point?”

Riyo choked violently nearby.

Zanka’s glare sharpened instantly.

“For the last time, stop comparing us.”

“But you literally stand the same.”

“We do not.”

Dear Santa glanced at Zanka.

Then glanced away again with the exact same irritated little look Zanka used whenever someone annoyed him.

Your knees almost gave out.

“Oh my god.”

Zanka noticed your expression immediately and looked deeply exhausted already.

“Don’t start.”

You walked over with the kind of dangerous smile that always made Zanka regret being perceived.

Then you stood between them dramatically, comparing their heights like a detective solving a crime.

“Same eyes,” you counted.

Zanka groaned.

“Same hair.”

“This is stupid.”

“Same ‘I hate everyone here’ face.”

“I DON’T LOOK LIKE THAT.”

You and Dear Santa both looked at him silently.

Zanka stopped talking.

Because unfortunately for him, he absolutely did.

You turned toward Dear Santa with exaggerated gentleness.

“Sweetie,” you sighed warmly, “has your father been grumpy lately?”

Dear Santa blinked once.

Then very deliberately pointed at Zanka.

The room exploded laughing.

Zanka looked ready to evaporate.

“I hate this team.”

“No you don’t,” you said cheerfully.

“Yes I do.”

“No, because if you did, you wouldn’t keep fixing everyone’s messes during missions.”

“That’s literally my job.”

“Mhm. Very hardworking father of you.”

Zanka covered his face with one hand.

Meanwhile Dear Santa had quietly drifted to stand beside him again at some point during the conversation.

Not clingy.

Just naturally there.

And Zanka, despite all the complaining, shifted slightly so Dear Santa had more room beside him without even thinking about it.

You noticed immediately.

Of course you did.

Your entire expression softened.

There it is, you thought.

That quiet softness he pretends doesn’t exist.

You stepped closer and lightly tugged the collar of Zanka’s jacket straighter.

“You know,” you murmured teasingly, “you’re very caring for someone who acts scary all the time.”

“I’m not caring.”

“You adjusted your position so he wouldn’t get shoved during briefing.”

“That was instinct.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s not helping your argument.”

You grinned.

Then leaned up slightly, lowering your voice.

“My grumpy little Santa.”

Zanka’s ears instantly flushed pink.

“…Stop calling me that.”

“But it suits you so well.”

“It absolutely doesn’t.”

Dear Santa looked between the two of you quietly.

Then, after a pause, stepped slightly closer to Zanka again.

Like silent agreement.

You clutched your chest dramatically.

“He even picked your side in the divorce.”

“There is no divorce!”

“There was a custody battle though. I won weekends.”

“I’m going to lose my mind.”

“You already did,” you said sweetly.

And despite the glare he sent you afterward, Zanka still reached down and hooked two fingers loosely into yours while the briefing continued.

Tiny.

Absentminded.

Soft.

The kind of affection he’d never admit out loud.

You squeezed his hand once, smiling immediately.

Then looked over at Dear Santa.

“…He gets that from you too, by the way.”

Zanka nearly walked out of the briefing on the spot.

hope you like it

Also, Jabber hasnt seen them in a LONNNNNGGG ass time, so it'll be even more dramatic—/silly

sure i would love to!!

୭✧˚.Hidden Bloodline⇢Jabber Wonger

-your most important friendships should be with your own brothers and sisters and with your father and mother. love your family. be loyal to them. have a genuine concern for your brothers and sisters. ezra taft benson

synopsis: a quiet new cleaner tries to keep to herself while working with a loud, messy team, hiding the fact that she is related to a dangerous, unpredictable man. when he suddenly shows up during a mission gone wrong, their long-lost sibling connection spills out into confusion, awkwardness, and reluctant warmth.

content: f!reader, siblings, funny, so on

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

The alley had already turned chaotic before he appeared.

Dust in the air. Broken pipes leaking somewhere overhead. Rudo arguing with someone across the street.

She stood a little behind the others, quietly holding the medical bag against her chest while the team talked over each other.

Then the wall beside them exploded inward.

Everyone reacted instantly.

Weapons up. Shouting. Movement everywhere.

And through the smoke stepped Jabber, looking far too cheerful for someone interrupting a fight.

“Well,” he laughed, stretching his arms loosely, “this looks lively.”

Rudo groaned immediately. “Why is it always you?”

Jabber opened his mouth to answer.

Then paused.

His eyes moved across the group carelessly before stopping on her.

The grin on his face faltered for the first time.

She felt her stomach sink.

No.

Please no.

Very slowly, she lowered her head and took one careful step backward behind Enjin.

Unfortunately, Jabber noticed that too.

“…Hey,” he said suddenly.

She pretended not to hear him.

His head tilted.

Then his eyes widened with realization.

“No way.”

The words came out quieter than expected.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just genuinely stunned.

Everyone looked confused except her.

She was already wishing she could disappear into the pavement.

Jabber stared at her for another long second before walking closer, slower this time.

Like he wasn’t fully sure she was real.

She kept her eyes lowered.

“…It’s really you?”

Her fingers tightened around the strap of the bag.

“Mhm.”

That tiny sound was enough.

Jabber laughed softly under his breath, almost disbelieving.

“You got so grown up.”

The sentence made her ears warm instantly.

“It’s been a long time.”

“It has.”

The others looked between them.

Rudo frowned. “Wait. You two know each other?”

She hesitated.

Jabber answered immediately.

“She’s my sister.”

Silence crashed over the alley.

Rudo looked horrified.

Enjin looked tired already.

She looked like she wanted a building to fall on her specifically.

Jabber, meanwhile, couldn’t stop staring at her.

“You still do that.”

She blinked. “…Do what?”

“When you’re uncomfortable.” He pointed lazily toward her sleeves. “You hide your hands.”

Immediately, she loosened her grip and pulled her hands out a little.

Jabber snorted quietly.

“There.”

Her face turned pink.

“You noticed too quickly…”

“I notice everything about you.”

“That sounds a little strange when you say it like that,” she murmured.

Rudo pointed at Jabber accusingly. “Why are you acting normal all of a sudden?!”

“I am normal.”

“No, you’re terrifying.”

She gave Rudo a small apologetic glance.

“He’s… usually a little energetic.”

“A LITTLE?”

Jabber looked delighted by that description.

“See? She understands me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it lovingly.”

“I don’t think I did…”

He laughed again.

And weirdly, for a second, he looked lighter than before.

Less sharp around the edges.

Like finding her there had pulled him back into being an older brother before anything else.

Then he suddenly leaned down slightly to look at her properly again.

“You’ve been eating enough?”

The question caught her off guard.

“…Yes?”

Jabber studied her for a moment, then gave a small nod.

“Good.”

“That was a very serious question.”

“It’s been years. I have to check.”

Her expression softened a little despite herself.

“I’m alright.”

“Mhm. You look alright too.”

That seemed to embarrass her more than anything else.

She quietly looked away while Jabber grinned like he’d accomplished something important.

Behind them, Rudo frowned.

“Why are you acting like such a normal older brother right now?”

Jabber looked offended.

“I am a normal older brother.”

“No,” Rudo said immediately. “You really aren’t.”

thankyou and ofcoure what a great idea! hope you like it!

ᢉ𐭩The Daydream’s Echo⇢zanka nijiku

-you have bewitched me, body and soul, and i love, i love, i love you the celebrant directory

synopsis: a tender word slips from your lips, silencing the crowded room. while onlookers tease your mistake, he intervenes, his presence a shield for your mounting embarrassment. sscaping to the quiet, his stoic mask finally slips, exposing a flush and a heartbeat as frantic as yours.

content: f!reader, fluff?, teasing, shy, love, pre relationship

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

The presence of the other Cleaners only made the silence ten times heavier. In the cramped, industrial workspace of the headquarters, every clink of metal and scrap of conversation stopped the moment that word left your lips.

The Audience:

Enjin was mid-sip of his drink, his eyes widening over the rim of the cup as he choked back a laugh. Beside him, Rudo looked back and forth between you and Zanka, genuinely confused by the sudden spike in atmospheric pressure.

"Love?" Enjin finally managed to wheeze out, setting his drink down with a mischievous grin. "Since when did our resident battle-axe get a promotion to 'love'?"

"Wait," Rudo said, looking genuinely curious. "Does that mean they're—"

The Gentle Realization:

The sound of Enjin’s voice snapped the tether to your daydream. You blinked, the warmth in your chest turning into a sudden, icy jolt of realization. You looked at the others, then back at Zanka, who was still frozen, his eyes wide and blinking rapidly behind his lashes.

"I—I..." you stammered, your voice barely a whisper. You were so shy you could feel the heat radiating off your own skin. "I didn't mean... I was just..."

Zanka finally moved. He didn't yell or storm off. Instead, he stepped forward, his large frame effectively creating a wall between you and the prying eyes of Enjin and Rudu. It was a silent command for them to back off.

The Aftermath:

If you thought your face was hot before, you were now nearing a total meltdown. You ducked your head, your hair falling forward to hide your burning cheeks.

Zanka, usually so quick to bark at anyone who annoyed him, looked like a statue. He was staring intensely at a piece of scrap metal, his grip tightening until his knuckles turned white.

"Shut up, Enjin," Zanka snapped, though the lack of his usual bite gave him away. His voice was an octave higher than normal.

"Oh, he’s blushing!" Enjin sang out, leaning back. "Our Zanka is actually flustered. Hey, Rudo, you seeing this? The 'coolest' guy in the Pit just got taken down by a single word."

Rudo tilted his head, watching you fidget with your sleeves. "Is 'love' a bad thing? You look like you're about to pass out," he said, his bluntness only making you want to disappear into the floorboards.

The Rescue:

"Enough," Zanka growled, though his ears were still glowing bright red. "She’s just tired from helping me all day. You idiots go find something useful to do."

He turned his back to the group, looking down at you. For a split second, his gaze softened—not with annoyance, but with a panicked sort of affection.

"Follow me," he muttered, grabbing his gear. "We’re going to a different room. These losers are being too loud."

As he led you away, you heard Enjin let out one last whistle. Zanka didn't look back, but he kept his pace slow enough for you to stay right by his side, making sure everyone knew that, slip-up or not, you weren't going anywhere.

"Don't worry about them," he mumbled, looking straight ahead so you couldn't see the shy, awkward smile fighting to break through his blush. "Just... watch what you call me next time."

Both of you were blushing mess. "My heart can't take hits like that without a warning," he whispered the last part quietly to himself.

hope you will like it!

-i ignored what hurt me…just to avoid hurting you unknowm

synopsis: you love a man who views your devotion as a burden. while you anchor your life to his, he remains uncommitted, finding your sweetness suffocating. he mocks your care and compares you to others, leaving you to wait in a lonely house for a heart that belongs to everyone but you.

content: f!reader, angst, heartbreak, unrequited love

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

Ichigo Kurosaki— Ichigo Kurosaki—was always in motion.

School. Fights. Soul Society. His friends orbiting him like constellations that made sense only to him.

And you?

You stood just outside that sky.

You weren’t loud like Rukia Kuchiki. You weren’t bright and effortless like Orihime Inoue.

You were softer than both. Quieter. The kind of presence that didn’t demand space… and because of that, never quite received it.

Yet somehow, you were his.

At least, that’s what the word relationship was supposed to mean.

Evenings

You learned his patterns the way people learn seasons.

Ichigo would say, “I’ll come back early.”

You would nod, smiling gently, already knowing early meant nothing.

Still, you cooked.

Carefully. Thoughtfully. The way you imagined someone cooks when they’re in love, not because they have to, but because they want to create something warm in a world that feels too sharp.

Rice would sit steaming. Soup cooling slowly. You waited at the table, hands folded, not touching anything.

Time stretched thin.

The clock ticked louder the longer you listened to it.

When the door finally opened, it wasn’t relief that came first.

It was hope.

Fragile. Rebuilt every day.

“I already ate,” he’d say, slipping off his shoes like it was nothing.

No apology. No hesitation.

Just a statement. Final.

You’d blink once. Then smile.

“Ah… okay. I’ll save it for later.”

Your voice never broke.

That was your quiet talent.

At School

You walked beside him sometimes. Not always. Only when he didn’t drift away first.

He talked more when his friends were around. Laughed louder. Looked lighter.

With you, conversations felt like stepping into a room where someone had already decided to leave.

“Why can’t you be more like—”

He didn’t always finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to.

The comparison hung in the air anyway, like unfinished handwriting.

You nodded like you understood.

Even when you didn’t.

Even when it felt like being gently erased.

Moments That Stayed

There were always small things.

The way he checked his phone while you were talking

The way his attention slipped toward other girls, even when you stood right there

The way he sighed when you asked for time

Not anger. Not cruelty in the obvious sense.

Just… absence.

A kind of emotional vacancy that made you feel like you were asking for too much simply by existing.

Once, you waited outside his house long after it got dark.

Not because he asked you to.

Just because you thought… maybe he’d be tired. Maybe he’d want someone there.

When he finally arrived, he paused.

“Why are you here?”

No warmth. Just confusion.

You smiled, softer than the night.

“I thought you might need something.”

He stared at you for a second, like trying to solve a problem he didn’t remember creating.

Then he shrugged.

“I didn’t.”

And walked inside.

You stood there a little longer.

Not frozen. Not shocked.

Just… adjusting.

Like your heart had learned to rearrange itself around disappointment.

Soul Society Arc — Still the Same

Even during chaos, nothing changed.

When he fought, you worried. When he disappeared, you waited.

When he came back—

You were still second. Maybe third. Maybe not even on the list.

He talked about battles. About strength. About others.

Never about you.

And still, you listened like every word mattered.

Because to you, it did.

The Truth You Carried

You knew.

Not suddenly. Not dramatically.

But slowly, like fog settling into a valley.

You knew he didn’t love you the way you loved him.

But your love didn’t bend.

Didn’t shrink.

Didn’t retaliate.

It stayed.

Not because you were blind.

But because your heart… chose him anyway.

Final Scene

One night, you sat alone again.

The food had gone cold hours ago.

You didn’t reheat it this time.

Didn’t move it either.

The house was quiet.

Not empty.

Just quiet in a way that made your thoughts louder.

You rested your head on your arms, eyes half-closed.

Not crying.

Just tired.

When Ichigo finally came home, he paused when he saw you like that.

For a brief second—

Something flickered.

Not quite guilt.

Not quite realization.

Just… something unfinished.

“…You’re still up?”

You lifted your head, offering that same gentle smile.

The one that never asked for anything.

“Yeah. I was waiting.”

And that was it.

No confrontation. No resolution.

Just a love that kept giving… and a boy who never learned how to hold it.

Again, you started cleaning. You folded his shirts, organized his desk, and began prepping for the next meal he wouldn't eat. You knew he didn't want to commit. You knew he saw your devotion as a grab for attention rather than a gift of the soul. But as you wiped a stray tear from your cheek, you realized that for Ichigo, you were just a person in his house—but for you, he was the entire world. And you would stay in the dark, waiting for a light he only ever shone on everyone else.

-you make me want to be a better man melvin udall 

synopsis: you stand beside someone who’s loved before, and it makes you hesitate in ways you can’t explain. but when he finally closes the distance, his patience steadies you. in that quiet, careful first kiss, you stop comparing and start feeling—realizing you don’t have to be anyone else to be wanted.

content: f!reader, fluff, first kiss(for reader), romance and so on

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

You’ve always known you weren’t his first.

It’s not something he talks about, not something he needs to. It lingers anyway, in the edges of things. In the way people look at him, in the way he carries himself like someone who’s been wanted before, chosen before.

Loved before.

And you—

You’re softer.

Quieter.

The kind of person who fidgets with her sleeves instead of speaking up, who thinks too much about small things, who notices every glance and wonders if she’s somehow lacking in ways she can’t name.

It settles in your chest sometimes, that quiet, persistent thought:

He’s been with girls who knew what they were doing.

Girls who didn’t hesitate. Girls who didn’t have to think twice before reaching for him, before kissing him, before fitting into moments like this without feeling like they might break them.

You don’t ask him about it.

You don’t want to know.

But the thought lingers anyway, threading through your nerves now as you stand in front of him, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, close enough that it feels like something is about to happen.

And you don’t know if you’re ready for it.

Your fingers find the hem of your sleeve again.

Folding. Smoothing. Folding.

A small, restless habit you can’t seem to stop.

Enjin notices.

Of course he does.

His hand moves before you can catch yourself, closing gently around your wrist, stilling the motion. His touch is warm, steady, grounding in a way that makes your chest tighten instead of settle.

Your breath stumbles.

His thumb brushes once over your knuckles, slower this time, like he’s taking his time with something small.

“Look at me.”

His voice is low, quiet, but it wraps around you easily.

You lift your gaze.

And immediately wish you hadn’t.

Because he’s already looking at you.

Not casually. Not the way he usually does.

Something heavier.

It sends heat rushing up your neck before you can stop it, blooming across your face so fast it feels like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Your fingers twitch in his hold, but you don’t pull away.

He notices that too.

His grip shifts, not tighter, just more certain, like he’s keeping you there without forcing it. His other hand comes up, slower this time, resting at your waist. He hesitates for the smallest moment, giving you room to move if you want to.

You don’t.

So he closes the distance.

His lips meet yours, warm and a little rough at first, like he didn’t hold back as much as he meant to. The suddenness of it pulls a small sound from you before you can stop it.

He pauses.

Not pulling away, just… softening.

The next kiss is different.

Slower. More careful. His mouth moves against yours with a quiet patience, like he’s adjusting to you instead of expecting you to keep up with him. The hand at your waist settles more firmly, anchoring you in place, his thumb pressing lightly into your side.

You don’t know what you’re doing.

That thought flashes again, sharp and familiar.

He’s done this before. You haven’t.

For a second, it almost makes you freeze.

But he doesn’t rush you.

Doesn’t overwhelm you.

He shifts just enough each time, guiding without making it obvious, letting you find the rhythm instead of dragging you into it. Like he’s not comparing. Like there’s nothing to measure yourself against here.

Like this—you—is enough.

Your lips move against his, a little uncertain at first, but less hesitant with each second that passes.

It makes something loosen in your chest.

When you pull back just a little, barely more than a breath, it’s not on purpose. Just instinct, nerves catching up with you all at once.

Enjin doesn’t let the distance stay.

His hand tightens at your waist, pulling you back in, more certain this time. The kiss that follows is deeper, more deliberate—not harsh, but no longer testing. Like he’s decided he doesn’t need to hold back.

Your fingers clutch at the front of his shirt, wrinkling the fabric as you try to steady yourself.

Another soft sound slips from you.

Quieter.

But this time he reacts.

He pulls back just enough for it to break, his tongue clicking once against his teeth, a low, almost impatient sound. His grip tightens, drawing you closer, like even that tiny bit of space bothers him.

For a second, neither of you speaks.

You glance up without meaning to.

And catch it.

The faint red at the tips of his ears, standing out against everything about him that always seems so composed.

It makes your breath catch again.

Because it’s not just you.

His eyes flick back to yours, and he knows you’ve seen it. His hand shifts at your waist, pulling you closer like he can hide it by closing the space between you.

“Don’t pull away,” he mutters, voice lower now, roughened just slightly.

Not sharp.

Just… real.

The warmth on your face only deepens, but this time it doesn’t feel like something you need to hide.

You nod, small but certain.

He watches you for a second longer.

Then his gaze drops back to your lips.

And when he leans in again—

you meet him halfway.