Gris: Even if it's been healed, it's still his and his to bear. Gris pays no mind to it whenever he wakes. It never irks him, saddens him, or anything; he's naturally a calm person, so minor inconveniences are just lessons learned. You, however, can't shake it. Besides the one on his stomach—barely shown unless he pulls off his shirt—it's the one in his eye you're curious about. While small, it's over a vital organ; he could've been blind in that eye. So how did he gain it? What brutal attack did he survive?
After pondering for a bit, you shifted your head off his chest, leaving the heartbeat to cure potential heartache. Blue eyes follow you for a bit.
"You ok?"
You merely hummed. Soft lips press against a thin fold of skin, brushing the coarse. Eyelashes tickle your chin, and he chuffed.
"How did you get it?" Your eyes trace the bumpy tissue like a textbook.
Gris quietly sighs. "It's a long story."
You kissed his temple, awaiting the story behind it all.
Follo: When you heard what happened to Follo, time stood still. What do you mean he almost fell to his death? Forget the fact that he was practically fought a child out of spite, forget the damn fact he became a Giver, he could've DIED for fuck's sake!!
My God, were you such a nuisance in the infirmary? You chastised him, Rudo, Gris, Tamsy, whoever else was in the fucking room. Your pretty boy had to calm you down before things got any worse; he did apologize about worrying you, but he did quip about your erratic behavior.
But that was back then, this is now, when Follo just used your shower to clean off the excruciating mission and was feeling a little too lazy to cover his torso, showing off that wicked scar on his stomach. Kintsugi, to rebuild, celebrate imperfections and resilience; you've seen those pots and cups sealed together with literal gold gleaming on the windowsill of some granny. He looked beautiful while remaining true to himself. And you loved that. You held his waist, making him yelp a bit.
"You're hands are cold." He chuckles.
You giggled. "Sorry." Your thumb pads the coarse, blushing flesh. Your lips peck the dryness, causing him to giggle and flinch a little.
"That tickles~." God, he was adorable. You straddle his waist to finally reach the marks on the temple, honoring each and every one.
"I'm still sorry about what happened."
"You weren't there, and you only heard half of the story."
"The worst half." You chuckled.
The two of you ended up cuddled in bed.
Tamsy: To call scars iconic is a strange term. Yes, there's obviously more to Tamsy than just his scars, but they're the most notable features. Not to mention the mystery behind them. He refuses to tell even an ounce about them, playing coy for the thrill of your frustration. And yet, you trace them as if you're reading braille, trying to find any clues. All you had were their burn marks, nothing more. But what could've caused such blemishes to occur, something so violent that it would almost have mauled his entire body?! Tamsy rather you curb your curiosity before you end up spiraling into insanity for something so plain. They don't hurt, so it doesn't really matter. Now, calm down before you pop a blood vessel.
Like a sycamore tree, tender patches blot his skin with benign refuge. The one over his eye is the one you keep tabs on, considering you keep getting lost in his eyes. And lucky you, the summer heat kept his pajama shirt unbuttoned~, meaning maximum exposure to his scars. The bleached-blonde soughs and squirms like a cat, urging you to haul yourself over him. He chortle.
"Oh, and what are you~ doing?"
"Nothing."
You've learned how to be coy, too. Hands bind around your neck, pressing you towards his chest. Your kisses color the bistre skin. Stomach churning slightly underneath the sweetness. He coos all columbine.
"That's what the fuss is about?"
You don't answer, snogging into his neck. Goosepimples bloom from wheat-colored skin; he could get used to this. Your lips rise, landing the final blow right over his eyelid. Your high was over, scanning the entire territory in just one instance.
"Had fun?" You giggled, unable to control yourself, "good, now it's your turn~."
After your call with Tamsy the other night you still had the fear of dreaming about that nightmare. So, you decided to request Tamsy to come visit your room for a sleepover.
Contains: Alot of fluff this time, slow burnish, minor angst. Of two people, one of them is touch starved. Mentions of substance abuse. Mutual pining cuz why not?
Major manga spoilers chapter 92 and 110+ at the end
A/N: This is part 2! If you haven't read part 1 here's the link! Go read that one and then come here when you're done :3
Restless nights pt.1
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Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of your alarm clock, and you reached out to turn it off. You don't remember when you dozed off, but it was the best sleep you've had in a while. The nightmare that came to terrorize you didn't come for the second time, and you didn't use any sleeping pills.
It surprised you how a single late-night call with Tamsy was able to cure you. But you weren't sure if those nightmares were completely gone or just decided to give you some mercy for a change.
You remembered there was one sleeping pill left, and decided to go to the infirmary for more. You found a few injured cleaners, and Eishia is treating one of them.
"I need more pills please" You say to her.
"Those sleeping pills were supposed to last you a week more. Did you take more than recommended?" She says, looking at you with worry. She was too observant.
You went silent. That confirms that you took more than necessary, and it caused Eishia to be anxious.
"No, I'm sorry Y/N...I can't give you these pills if you keep taking more than required. I'm afraid you have to use other methods to help you sleep. If I keep giving you...you might—" She paused as she avoided your gaze, a visible frown on her face.
A wave of guilt filled your conscience.
"I understand. I'm sorry for overusing them" You simply stated. You were frustrated you weren't getting more, but due to that one night that gave you the best rest in a long time, it reduced the impulse to snap at her.
As you exited the infirmary you saw Tamsy walking in the hallway, he looked unrecognizable. His hair was more loose but a portion of it was tied up with a hair claw. His attire was more casual and easygoing.
"Good morning Y/N. How did you sleep?" He asked in a friendly tone. His warm smile brought you comfort.
"Morning Tamsy, I had the best sleep in a while. Thanks again for everything you've done" You say, you really did appreciate his help. It didn't feel much to him but for you? It meant alot.
"Do you still remember your dream?" He asked.
"Unfortunately...yes I do. I might not take any sleeping pills today since I overused them so...I wish last night's sleep wasn't just a one time thing" You say in a defeated tone. Tamsy’s eyes softened at your words.
You remembered his offer for a sleepover.
"And about that sleepover...I hope you don't mind if you come visit my room tonight?" You requested politely.
"Of course! I thought you forgot about it. I'd love to sleepover. I'll come around...9pm? Yes, I think that'll be perfect for me" He played it off casually but internally he was overjoyed.
Tamsy went to the reception after their small talk. You looked forward to seeing him tonight.
Eishia did suggest using other methods to help with sleep. Now the idea of using Tamsy as a tool to help with sleep was absurd—like some kind of life-sized plushie??
No no no! He'll sleep elsewhere. But the bed is the only thing in your room that's comfortable, no couch or anything. Okay! You will sleep on the floor! But you know very well Tamsy will not allow you to. You didn't think this one through enough.
It's clear that the two of you will sleep on one bed.
—————
You hear a knock on your door, it must be him. You jumped out of bed as you fixed yourself up, you don't know why because you'll be asleep anyway, but that doesn't mean you should look awful in front of your guest. You lastly checked your scent and it was all clear.
You opened the door and gasped in fear, you sighed in relief to realize it was Tamsy. His hair covered his whole face, as his arm held a pillow. He wore simple sleepwear: baggy pyjamas and slippers. His hair all loose and untied.
"Damn it Tamsy, you looked like the typical woman you'll find in a horror movie" You chuckled.
"Boo" He joked.
You both laughed as you stepped back to let him enter. The door closed with a soft thud as you lock it with a key. Safety comes first after all.
Tamsy takes a look all over your room as he pushes his hair away from his face, it was neat and organized(totally not because you cleaned it before he came here).
"Are we sharing the bed?" He asked, noticing the only comfortable thing to sleep on was the bed.
"Yeah, sorry. I couldn't find a couch that could fit through my door." You joked while scratching the back of your head nervously.
"That's fine by me, after you" He says, insisting you enter the bed first.
You nodded, entering into the blankets and shifting to make way for Tamsy to get space too. Even though the bed is smaller, it was lucky enough to fit two people. But that also means it doesn't leave room for gaps.
So why are you lying so close to the edge of the bed? Your back turned against him. If he let you sleep like that, you'll fall off the bed. He sighed, "You're going to fall off"
"Just...trying to create a gap between us" You explained, you're afraid if you went closer to Tamsy you wouldn't know what to do with yourself. You snapped back to reality when you feel a pair of arms around your waist and your body pulled back into the bed. Your back felt his warmth, and the feeling of his hair on your neck.
"You're not going to sleep if you keep worrying about that" He mumbled.
He was right. There's no use trying to create a boundary between yourself and him. You are both friends—no, the label "friends" didn't sit right to you.
You turned your body to face him, his face was so gorgeous up close. You could notice his attractive eyes, nose and lips that gave you a reassuring smile.
"Sorry I just..." You paused before admitting, "I'm scared of dreaming about that nightmare again"
"Don't think about that dream so much" He advised, and then opened his arms wide as an offer to hold you. "How will you move on if you keep thinking about it?"
You processed his words, it wasn't easy to just forget about it. He knew that, but it doesn't hurt to try to focus on something else. You weren't alone this time, you had Tamsy by your side.
Your arms went around him, your face against his shoulder as you take in his scent. It looked like he had good composure but it was slowly cracking as he realizes you are sniffing him...that caught him off guard but didn't mind it.
He told himself he's not sleeping until you fall sleep first. His eyes remained on you when you try to find a comfortable position to sleep in.
"This is nice..." You commented, "Are you asleep yet?" Tamsy shook his head no.
"Why aren't you asleep?" He asked. It's been an hour later and nothing happened.
"I was waiting for you to sleep first" His eyes narrowed at your response.
"You didn't have to do that" His hand cupped the side of your cheek. "Otherwise none of us are going to sleep"
His hand was warm against your skin, it was probably the only warmth you've had in forever. You couldn't help but want to be closer to him.
"I was trying to be a good host for the sleepover..." You say tiredly. Tamsy wanted to facepalm.
"You are just avoiding sleep Y/N. You aren't fooling me" He called you out.
You scoffed in frustration. Why are you such an open book to him no matter how hard you try to act closed off? He was aware too much and that made you vulnerable under him.
Noticing your silence, he kept his eyes on you. Not breaking eye contact.
"Are you trying to seduce me into sleeping?" You questioned, getting nervous under his unbreakable gaze.
"Is it working?" He didn't even try to deny it. You chuckled, and reached over to push his hair behind his ear.
"Yes. It's working" The seduction yes, the sleeping...you don't have the answer to that.
The tension was so thick even the trash beasts would die from it.
The urge to kiss you was getting more and more heavier in Tamsy’s mind. But he didn't want to initiate it while you weren't completely okay. Instead, he pressed a kiss against your forehead.
"Good night Y/N" He mumbled against your skin. Before he pulled you closer and his head was against your neck. Looks like he fell asleep first.
The kiss was like a reset on your mind. The fear of dreaming those nightmares, the constant guilt of not being able to save the person you cared about and the closeness between you and him all faded.
All you thought about was the kiss he gave you, and the warmth you felt against his body. And before you knew it, you dozed off too. Turns out Tamsy was still awake, he could hear the sounds of your gentle snores.
He was lucky you were a deep sleeper otherwise his plan wouldn't work. He gently slipped away from your arms to get out of bed, reaching out inside his pillow to reveal the watchman book.
"I'm sorry, Y/N, I just couldn't bear to see you so miserable. I hope you can forgive this man for taking advantage of your mind. My only wish is to erase the memories of your nightmare, just the details of every single one including tonight — perhaps that will speed up your recovery." He thought to himself, holding the watchman book in one hand and his other reached out to you.
"As for this book, I normally don't use it for things that don't serve my own personal plan or benefit. But the thought of you being happy again makes me feel...warm" He smiled to himself.
Morning arrived, and you slept the entire night without waking up even once. You couldn't even remember what you dreamed of last night. Tamsy didn't stay for too long like you hoped, perhaps to prevent other people from seeing him exit your room. Which was understandable.
Tamsy closes the door behind him, holding his pillow in one arm. He hoped erasing a part of your nightmares was for the best. Anyone would do that for the person they love. When he looked down the hallway...
...he found Enjin looking back at him. Wearing just a shirt with a picture of Too Lily and boxers, holding out a cigarette in his mouth.
His eyes squinted in confusion, staring at his pillow and then at the door he came out of.
That's Y/N's room.
"Did you just—"
"You're imagining things" He denied before Enjin could finish.
"You're in your pyjamas"
"So are you"
"You did more than sleep in there didn't you?"
"Yeah...woke up. That's what happens after sleep Enjin"
He walked over to pat his shoulder, "Rise and shine" his lip curled into a smirk, and walks past his stunned face.
Hello, may I request tamsy and gn reader going on a mission together and getting stuck in a sandstorm so they decide to wait it out in a abandoned building but they get a little carried away while killing time? Thank you!!
WHEN DANGER ARISES
꒰ Hani’s notes ꒱ : this shouldn’t have taken me so long it’s quite literally been a month I wasn’t motivated to finish this at all so that’s why it’s rlly short 🙁 sigh..anyways. Tamsy would LOVE Deftones and I put that on my soul…go my headcanon go… 624 words.
Being trapped in an abandoned building with Tamsy—of all people—was certainly not on your bingo card. Yet here you were. Maybe it was the universe’s way of mocking whatever you and Tamsy had going on? Perhaps, if you were in its good graces, it might throw you a bone—
“Could you stop staring at me like that? It’s disturbing,” you said, Tamsy’s gaze had been fixed on you for quite a while.
“Staring at you like what?” He tilted his head with a low hum slipping past his lips. The way he turned his head was almost owl-like, his gaze sharp, as if staring right through you, prying at something beneath skin and bone.
“Like…never mind.” You waved a hand dismissively, adjusting the red choker around your neck as if it had suddenly tightened in his presence.
You turned your head to the sound of the wind howling outside, the sandstorm wasn’t letting up anytime soon.
Creak…
“AUGH!”
You jumped at the noise, heart jolting, only to see Tamsy walking toward your side. He raised a brow, amusement flickering across his expression.“Skittish, Angel?”
“This place gives me the creeps..” You muttered, shuddering in discomfort. Something was…off about this place.
“Oh really?” He rested his chin on his hand, his expression unreadable. “Who would’ve thought?”
“Is that sarcasm?”
“Is it?” His voice was calm—almost lazy—but there was that faint curl of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Geez, if you’re going to be like this, I sure don’t want to be in a room alone with you.” You clenched your fist as you turned toward the hallway. Only to freeze when Tamsy’s hand wrapped around your wrist.
“Hey, what’s your deal—” you started, but the words died as his hand covered your mouth. The calluses on his palm scraped lightly against your skin, rough from work and battle.
“Quiet,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “I hear something.”
Your pulse spiked. The wind outside roared, dust rattling against the glass, but in the silence between gusts—you heard nothing.
You glanced at him, your voice slightly wavering. “What’d you hear?” you whispered when he finally lowered his hand.
He stayed completely still, gaze fixed on the dark hallway ahead. His tone dropped to a whisper. “There. You hear it too, right?”
You listened carefully. Nothing. Just the groan of the building.
“Tamsy—”
He suddenly leaned closer, his breath ghosting your cheek. “Boo.”
You let out a slight shriek, not from his low effort attempt at frightening you, but how close he was, which was already a scare in itself.
Tamsy straightened, a snicker slipping from him. “You’re quite easy to mess with,” he said, smirking as he turned away. “I should bother you much more often.”
You glared at his back, heart still racing. “Please don’t, you’re already insufferable enough.”
“Mm,” he hummed, glancing over his shoulder with his signature smile. “You’ll live.”
You let out a shaky breath, turning your back away from the hallway. The building felt… still now, your heartbeat ceasing its rapid pace.
Eventually, the wind outside lessened, the storm retreating just enough to step out. Your mission was incomplete, hell you two barely even started it. But it wasn’t your fault anyway.
Tamsy walked beside you, his gaze focused with that unreadable expression. For a brief instant, his eyes narrowed, his head turning back to the building like there was something there—something you didn’t see.
Then, without a word, he kept walking, leaving you to wonder if that building was truly abandoned, or if he really saw something.
Noticing your eyes on him, he sighed shaking his head. “Nothing to worry your pretty head about,” He paused, pausing thoughtfully.
imagine… being just as deranged as tamsy, perhaps even more than him in certain areas.
he thinks he has you wrapped around his finger, that his threads have you secured.. you’re just another toy for him to play with & use when necessary. in his pov, you’re utterly clueless, just like everyone else.
in reality, he’s already stuck in the center of your web. he thinks you don’t see beneath the surface.. you do, but what fun is it if you close the curtains on the play so soon? you let him have his fun, because the deeper he falls into the illusion of being in control, the harder it’ll be to pry himself from the silk holding him.
you’re akin to a spider, in the sense that you let your prey come to you. you don’t need to coax them over, their own attraction & motives do the job for you.
eventually, you decide to meet him halfway. just to give him a little.. fright.
when his gaze lingers subtly, you abruptly look his way. he averts his gaze.
when he pulled that stunt back at amo’s tower? that sadistic grin is hiding beneath the gas mask, but you notice. there’s an ever-so slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes. he thinks he’s slick.
he’s not.
“having fun, sweet tams?” you murmur from behind, & he chooses to ignore the way his pulse leaps.
when he has his arm hanging out the window on the drive back (iykyk)? you approach him about it later, eyes narrowed with mischief.
“how’s that thread holding up?”
he almost chokes mid-drink.
with all of this & more in mind, tamsy reconsiders his initial assessment of you. you’re dangerous, but to what extent? perhaps.. he needs to keep a closer eye on you.
oh, if only he realized sooner just how deep into the spider’s nest he’d ventured.
𐂥 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 · · · reposted, so lowkey do not perceive me. title is quite literally the plot. tamsy has weird feelings towards you. likewise. reader described by him as awkward. a very subtle case of mutual pining. ropes and bruises are involved, but it’s completely sfw! just a casual day with other characters mentioned. spoiler-free — there are some hints tho. maybe a pinch of clueless flirting, but only if you squint lol
There are many unexpected mornings at the Cleaners’ HQ. A fact that no one dares to undermine, a reality that greets them all with every new day.
If not a sudden attack of the trash beasts, then maybe Delmon hitting his toe against the bed and screaming at the top of his lungs, or Enjin coming back from the city after a frivolous night and stumbling into every obstacle because he’s certain that another love of his life just decided to end their relationship (how long has it been this time? Barely a month?), or Follo and Gris hitting the clogged pipes with every tool they have in the bag because someone messed up the hydraulics and there’s already a queue of people wanting to use the bathroom.
Yes, there are many unexpected mornings at the Cleaners’ HQ. Tamsy is well aware of the antics and misunderstandings happening between the members, but at least he’s glad that usually no one bothers anyone until they leave their rooms — pitiful is what awaits after one decides to venture out on the corridor and is not ready for the challenge. But it’s his day off work, so he can enjoy the solitude of the cosy four walls of his private corner in peace.
Except this time, he hears an impatient banging at his door, directly. Nothing of great strength, so that at least confirms it’s not one with the extreme personality (like Delmon) who otherwise would soil his lovely start of the day.
Well, it’s you.
“Good mornin—”
“Hi Tamsy!” You interrupt his slow greeting, followed by a questioning raise of his eyebrows. But you’re quick, too quick, and continue immediately, almost putting your hands straight into his face. “Please, please, you gotta help me!”
“Calm down, first. What happened?”
“See?!”
He sees. Clearly.
One of your arms, from wrist to shoulder, is wrapped up in a total mess — a good quality rope or a net of some kind, whatever — and your skin has already lost a fraction of its colour. Looks painful, that’s for sure. And, unfortunately, complicated. There’s barely anything he can deduce in just a few seconds from seeing you in front of his room to having to hold your elbow so you stop wriggling your shoulder, so he may examine the situation further.
“Why didn’t you just cut it off?”
“Because I can’t! I just can’t! Semiu said it’s something expensive that the boss had bought a few years ago, but the kids started playing with it while cleaning the main hall, and then they bumped into me, and then— well, nevermind! Can you please get it off me before I lose my arm and Semiu comes for my throat next?”
There goes his peaceful morning.
He takes a deep breath, ignoring that first wave of annoyance after being disrupted so early when it’s his day off, and lets go of you so he can retrieve some tools from the drawer. Probably a needle or a pin, anything of that sort, will have a use in that case.
“Come in. Untangling you shouldn’t be hard, but it might take a while…”
“Aren’t you well-oriented with the ropes and stuff like that? Isn’t your vital instrument a distaff?”
“Heh, I guess I am well-oriented with the ropes and stuff.”
You watch him curiously, sniffling and fidgeting all over the place with your nails, scrambling the coarse threads in hopes that maybe you will get out of them by yourself.
After a moment, Tamsy drags you across the room, nudging you to sit on the bed.
“Yeah, this will take a while.” He mumbles out, eyes already focused on the task. “But you won’t lose your arm.” He chuckles at that. Mayhaps a subtle joke will take your attention away from the bubbling anxiety.
“What about my neck?”
“Working on it. At worst, we’ll both lose our heads.”
You hum under your nose, entertained and not so stressed anymore, and lean to look at his hands. Working carefully on the rope, unwrapping one by one, all this while trying not to poke the pointy end of the pin through your skin. To be honest, it looks more like you’re a bird caught in a net left in the wind for at least a year, but if he considers how chaotic Guita and other teenagers can be, let alone running around together, then maybe it’s not that impossible to cause such a disaster in the first place.
The moment you feel Tamsy’s fingers pull out of the loops and brush against your skin where the short sleeve doesn’t reach, you lower your head as if it’s suddenly forbidden. You get the feeling, again. The one you dislike because it makes you act like that, like you cannot just enjoy being casually acquainted with him.
This is not love. No. Love doesn’t exist for people like you. Not on the Ground, not at all. But the idea of it lingering at the edge of your consciousness doesn’t leave you alone, and brings shivers down your spine every time he so much as glances at you.
This is not love. This is the worst.
“I’ve never noticed that you’re missing a part of your little finger. It’s not causing you any problems?” You pick up the most random topic, your stupid brain just letting anything get on your tongue.
Tamsy doesn’t even flinch when you mention it.
“I forget about it all the time.” He admits in a heartbeat.
“Oh. Well, good that it’s nothing serious then. Sorry…”
“It’s okay.” He sighs.
Really, it’s hard to be angry at you, especially since this isn’t your fault you got into whatever happened in the main hall, but he doesn’t want you sitting on his bed, in his room, acting so awkward. It would be annoying if it were only him treated this way — it could suggest you’re developing certain feelings for him, regardless if positive or negative — but you’ve always been weird when interacting with others, unable to get the clue, even after working with them many times, and even befriending some of them.
Sure, you’re all over the place, but you’re not the only one among the Cleaners. However, Tamsy considers you a complication and a distraction. Only you. It’s entirely on him that he’s starting to like you, against his own rules. But then again, do you even notice that, or are you just enjoying the quiet company? He wants to make sure he isn’t wrong, because he could use an ally, yet… You don’t seem to think of him that way. It’s too risky to even consider sharing the truth with you.
“Ouch!” There’s a sudden rush of pain down your shoulder that gets you to squeak and jolt in place. Distressed once again, you look at your limb and then at Tamsy, and back at your limb.
“Don’t worry. The circulation is back, but you’ll feel sore and ticklish.” The lukewarm fingertips trail up to your elbow, just to make sure everything’s back to normal, and he stares at your expression for a moment with an absent gaze. “I’m almost done, so try not to move too much for one more minute, okay?”
You nod, a bobblehead toy, hot in the face, unable to hold eye contact anymore. Instead, you fixate on his palms (yes, again, how obvious), on how delicately he holds your wrist while he takes care of the last tangles. It’s just too funny, the sensation of a pulse returning to your arm; you giggle and shiver, but try your best to remain calm despite the numb tingling rushing down your nerves.
Along with the last loosened loop, Tamsy pinches at your skin on purpose until you laugh and shy away from his grip. That one time you look back at him, you get the feeling again, the same one he was wondering about earlier.
What a fool you are.
“And everything’s alright again.” He announces, that pretty face of his softening, like he’s comforting you after some traumatic experience and not just a small predicament. Although you were, in fact, seriously scared for a moment there. Well, if it came to that, you would just cut off the ropes in the last resort, much to Semiu’s displeasure.
“You sure?” Still doubtful, you examine your limb, worried about the splotches of bruises and angrily deep imprints waved into the soft flesh.
“Just be careful. It looks… hmm, that’s expected given how tight this net was digging in.” He cannot say what’s actually on his mind. The wince doesn’t escape you, and Tamsy immediately regrets that he let his voice falter. The next second, he covers his mouth and scratches his jawline instead, trying to keep the smile off his face, but failing miserably at it.
“I don’t get it. Why are you smiling?” You pout at him, attempting to sound offended by his reaction. “It hurts and looks awful.”
“I’m sorry. I really hope the pain goes away soon. It’s such an absurd way of starting the day. It’s funny.”
No, Tamsy isn’t cruel, it’s just… he really finds it amusing. He will never say it out loud that his face got warmer after having the chance to look at your arm, unable to not imagine that this is exactly how you would end up if caught in the threads of his vital instrument.
Give him a break, damn.
With defeat, he has to admit in his thoughts that it looks pretty on you. He likes the image of it. Not the fact that it’s painful for you — or precisely because of that, but he wishes not to ponder on that possibility — but it was probably inevitable in this case.
Maybe he’s becoming a sadist? No, no, not at all. If anything, he would prefer you unharmed and untouched. No, what is he even thinking about now? He should know better than this.
“Try not to get caught in more nets.” He gets up from the place beside you and puts the pin away. “I will help you take it back to Semiu and the boss. But I wouldn’t recommend using your hand until the marks disappear.”
“Thanks…”
“Are you sure you can work, though? Maybe it would be better if you take the day off as well?”
“No, I’ll be okay. There are things to be done, so I’ll just focus on something easy until that numbness goes away.”
Tamsy isn’t pleased with that answer, but shrugs that off. Instead, he walks back to you to grab the neatly untangled net (it’s quite heavy, which wasn’t so noticeable when it was still wrapped around your entire arm) and guide you back to the exit.
There’s a limit to how much time you can spend alone with him in his room, and this one comes to an end. A pity.
“You’re a lifesaver.” You let out a tired sigh, the stress that weighed you down finally dissipating.
“No problem. I’m glad I could help you out.”
It would be such a waste to give up that opportunity, he thinks to himself, almost caving in to pull you close enough for a brief hug; he eventually gives up on that idea, biting his tongue and only putting a palm flat against your back. A friendly gesture to gently push you forward, like he often does with other members, whilst he’s busy locking his door behind you two and following your steps.
You’ve been nothing but trouble, occupying his mind when he should have clarity; that memory of ropes digging into your skin engraved just as deeply in his brain.
• ꒰ CONTENT ꒱: based off this request, vague spoilers about Tamsy, might be ooc, not proofread. 2.5k
• ꒰ PAIRING ꒱: Idol!GN!Reader x Tamsy
• Hani’s notes : this shouldn’t have taken me so long but then again I did have testing for a whole week so no wonder 😅
Tamsy owed his existence to the universe.
To the red string that tugged at his wrist, an unperceivable force pulling him towards his other half. The only person he was ever meant to find.
He never believed in fate until that invisible pull led him to you—until that gut feeling hit him, a familiar presence, it felt like a memory of a life he didn’t remember living. Like a truth you’ve known all your life but only just remembered.
But who were you, really?
A new day, a new beginning, with the same dream.
“Thank god I have a day off” He groaned, burying his face into his hands. The weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. This exhaustion wasn’t just from work—it was from this so called ‘nightmare’ of a dream. Hearing the same voice attached to an unknown face, Over and over again, It was starting to get under his skin, bothering him more than he cared to admit.
If this was his body’s way of telling him ‘hey man something’s really off you might want to get checked out’ or that déjà rêvé bullshit then it had a terrible sense of timing. Honestly, He might have appreciated a clearer signal.
But unfortunately, he couldn’t stay daydreaming in bed pondering about his troubles. Not like it was helping in the first place. He had business to attend to.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his joints popping in protest as he stretched, fatigue lingering where it wasn’t welcomed. He slid into his slippers and walked over to his mirror, blowing a few strands of hair out of his face. Frowning at the reflection that looked just as exhausted as he felt. He adored his hair, but sometimes it was a hassle to care for. Especially when it tangled into stubborn knots that would leave his scalp aching.
The radio suddenly switched to a news broadcast. Tamsy barely registered what the reporter was saying, something about an idol fan meeting. He must’ve forgotten to turn it off last night. His fingers were already reaching for the dial to switch it to music. Maybe Deftones. Anything to distract himself.
Then he heard it.
A clear, bright-like voice. It cut through the static and the silence of his room.
His hand stopped mid-motion. Debating whether or not to listen in or to spare himself from the news reporter’s babbling session. Perhaps it was instinct, like his brain already knew he’d regret it in the future. (Mymo the OPP.)
So he stayed. He listened. Willingly.
“I’ll be in town giving autographs for any fans who’d like to come! Hope to see you all there! ♡ ”
His breath caught in his throat as he choked on his own saliva.
That voice.
The same one that keeps him up on sleepless nights, the same soft touch tracing the scar on his face like they had every right to, like he was something delicate. Porcelain. But attached to a face he could never fully remember but could never forget either. Like hearing a memory he wasn’t supposed to have.
“My my, Lucky me.”The words slipped out before he even realized he’d spoken them.
So you were here.
On the ground.
In his reach.
And most importantly? You were a real person, not something his mind decided to
He could almost feel the invisible string tug at his wrist, just like those nights. But more sharp this time, impatient even.
He wasn’t one to believe in faith.
But you might make him change his belief.
Tamsy didn’t waste any time.
Well…he technically didn’t
He did take a few liberties snooping around in town to see if there were stores worth looking at. Just to keep himself busy. He somehow ended up buying Semiu a stack of magazines along the way.
He twirled a strand of his hair absently around his finger, letting his mind drift as he examined each storefront. Nothing particularly caught his interest—except, perhaps, the bakery.
The scent of fresh bread and sweets drew him in, the aroma was warm and pleasant. Like a home-cooked meal after a long, exhausting day.
His eyes wander along the display of diverse pastries, he could grab a cake. Yeah. Good idea. But why stop there? He could get you something for a first meeting, no?
The thought made him frown. How absurd. He didn’t even know you, nor did you even know him, and yet the idea stubbornly settled in his mind. Tarts. Maybe you like tarts. Maybe a strawberry one. Or a chocolate one. He shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Annoying.”
He ended up leaving with the cake he’d already decided on getting, and two tarts….just because he couldn’t choose. The idea of leaving one behind felt wrong in a way he couldn’t explain. Nor did he care enough to.
The more he walked on the streets, the more crowds started forming. At first, he hadn't thought about it. Just clusters of people coming from the same direction, chatter growing louder.
Then the area came into view. Staff members were already beginning to pack up equipment. The excitement of the crowd had dimmed, a clear signal of an event coming to its end.
Tamsy slowed his steps.
Already?
The sun had dipped lower than he remembered, casting the streets in a warmer hue. He frowned slightly, glancing around as if this were a mistake. Ridiculous. He wasn’t the type to lose track of time so easily.
Had he really spent that long standing in a bakery, contemplating between pastries like it was some sort of life-altering decision?
And yet, here he was, arriving just as the crowd thinned.
Figures.
You were standing now, no longer behind the table. You were speaking with a staff member, posture relaxed but your shoulders slumped, a clear indicator of your exhaustion. You fidgeted with the necklace that hung loosely around your neck as you laughed at something said, nodding along.
Eventually, the staff member excused themselves, leaving you alone near the table as the last few fans left the venue. You reached for your bag, adjusting the strap over your shoulder, gaze drifting idly across the remains of the event.
And then your eyes met his.
Your expression shifted, just slightly. Curiosity, first. Then something warmer, settling behind your eyes as you tilted your head.
Tamsy cleared his throat before he even realized he’d stopped breathing.
He approached without a word. Up close, you presence felt… familiar in a way that made no sense. Not because he recognized your voice from the radio or from his dreams, but because being this close felt oddly natural. Making no move to speak, he held out the paper bag.
You blinked.
Once. Twice.
“For me?” you asked, voice light, curious rather than suspicious.
He nodded, finally speaking. “Yeah.”
You hesitated only a second before accepting it, fingers brushing his as you took the bag. The contact was brief, accidental, but it sent a strange jolt through him—sharp enough that he nearly pulled his hand back.
You didn’t seem bothered. If anything, you smiled wider, peeking into the bag.
“Oh,” you said softly. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know.”
That earned him a quiet laugh.
You looked back up at him, studying his face with open interest rather than scrutiny. “Are you… a fan? You don’t seem like one, if that’s not rude.”
He considered the question.
“I guess you could say that,” he replied
You hummed, clearly unconvinced. “You don’t really look like you were waiting in line.”
“Got held up,” he said. “Lost track of time.”
“At a bakery, by any chance?” you teased, lifting the bag slightly.
He scoffed under his breath. “Is it that obvious?”
“A little,” you admitted. “But I appreciate it. I’ve been starving.”
You reached into the bag, pulling out one of the tarts. Strawberry. You examined it briefly before glancing between it and him.
“Want to split it?” you offered.
He shook his head. “All yours.”
“Suit yourself.” You took a small bite, eyes lighting up almost immediately. “Oh! This is really good!”
Something about the way you reacted made his chest loosen, tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying easing just a bit.
“I’m glad,” he nodded, a content smile on his face.
You asked him where he was from. He asked how long you’d been in town. He commented on how busy the event must’ve been. Just exchanging a few words.
“It was fun,” you said. “But exhausting. I forget how much talking I do until I stop.”
“Did you enjoy it?” he asked.
You nodded. “Yeah. I like meeting people. Makes everything feel more… real, I guess.”
He smiled at that. “You seem good at it.”
You shrugged. “Practice.”
There was a pause then—not awkward, just quiet. Comfortable. You took another bite of the tart, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.
“You know,” you said thoughtfully, “it kind of feels like I’ve known you longer than five minutes.”
His heart skipped.
“Yeah?” he replied carefully.
“Yeah.” You smiled, almost sheepish. “Weird, right?”
“Not really,” he said, surprising even himself with how certain he sounded. “Some people just… feel familiar.”
You watched him for a moment, expression unreadable. Then you nodded, as if that answer settled something.
“I like that,” you said.
Eventually, your manager called out to you from a distance, signaling it was time to go. You sighed softly, straightening up.
“Duty calls,” you said, a sad smile forming on your face.
You adjusted the bag of pastries in your hand, then looked back at him. “Thank you. Really. This was… nice.”
“Anytime,” he replied.
You took a step back, then another, lifting your hand in a small wave. “Take care, okay?”
“You too.”
You turned, walking away with one last glance over your shoulder, smiling, before following your manager out.
Tamsy stood there long after you’d gone.
Only when the venue had nearly emptied did he look down at his own hand.
The last dessert remained.
Cake.
He stared at it for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
“Right,” he murmured.
Tucking the box under his arm, he turned and headed down the street, a faint smile lingering on his lips as he went on his merry way. Meeting you wasn’t the only business he had for today.
After meeting you, first time it happened, Tamsy didn’t think much of it.
People crossed paths all the time. It was nothing special, just timing. He told himself that as he spotted you again three days later, standing just outside a bakery.
He should’ve just kept walking. Would’ve save him the trouble of engaging into a conversation.
But it was already too late for that, you turned your head away from the window showcasing the pastries, recognition sparking immediately. (Not like you can forget a face like his..) Your face lit up the same way it had at the fan meeting—like seeing him was the same as seeing an old friend.
“Oh,” you said, smiling. “Hey. Pastry guy.”
He snorted before he could stop himself. “That’s what I’m known for now?”
“Well you never gave me a name,” you replied, slipping your hands into your pockets. “Didn’t expect to see you again.”
“Yeah. Me neither.”
“Well, it’s good to see you…” You trailed off, clearly waiting for any name of sorts.
“It’s Tamsy,” he said.
“Tamsy,” you repeated, testing out the pronunciation. Your lips curved into a small smile. “Nice to finally meet you, Tamsy.”
“Likewise.” He nodded, “And you are?” he asked, finally.
You told him.
He nodded once, committing it to memory.
“Fits you,” he said.
You blinked. “You think so?”
“Yeah,” he replied, without hesitation. “Feels right.”
You chatted briefly, nothing deep. Small things. The weather. How was his day so far, yours as well. He walked away afterward thinking that was that.
The second time you both crossed paths made him frown.
It was late afternoon, sun hanging low and irritatingly bright, when he spotted you in a narrow side street near the market. You were crouched down, trying to coax a stray cat out from behind a crate, murmuring softly.
Tamsy stopped short.
He stood there longer than he meant to, watching. You didn’t notice him until the cat darted past your legs and vanished somewhere.
“Damn it,” you muttered, standing up and dusting off your hands.
Your eyes flicked up, and there he was.
You laughed. Not awkwardly. Just… surprised.
“Okay,” you said, pointing lightly at him. “Now this is getting weird.”
He crossed his arms. “You following me?”
“Please, I should be asking that. I don’t even know where you hang out.”
“That makes two of us.”
There was a pause. The kind that should’ve felt uncomfortable.
It didn’t.
Instead, you walked beside him, matching his pace as if it had always been natural. You talked longer this time. About nothing important. About the cat. About how you hated crowded schedules.
By the time you noticed how far you’d walked, neither of you seemed ready to stop. Somehow, this moment felt exactly right. Still, when you parted ways again, he told himself it was just another coincidence, didn’t mean anything.
Coincidence stacked on coincidence.
The third time, he gave up on gaslighting himself.
But in the third time, you found him in an awkward predicament. He was on an errand run for Semiu for some new releases magazines. He would’ve rather met you again anywhere else instead of here.
“I didn’t know you were into that type of stuff” You said, peaking over his shoulder.
He spun around, cheeks heating. “They aren’t for me,” he said immediately, defensive, arms tightening around the stack.
You raised an eyebrow, “Right. Of course.”
He sighed, “I’m only out here on an errand for a co-worker..she..enjoys these”
You blinked, half-amused, half-curious. “A co-worker, huh? Must be… close.”
“Close? Sure, I guess.” he said “That’s it. Nothing more.”
You studied him, one corner of your mouth tugging upward. “Sure. Nothing more. Just you… running errands for, uh, adult magazines.”
He groaned, pressing the stack a little closer to his chest. “Yes. That’s… exactly what this is. Just an errand. Nothing else.”
You tilted your head, not bothering to hide your amusement. “You really make that sound convincing.”
“I don’t need to make it convincing,” he muttered, cheeks still warm. “It’s the truth.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Well, I could help make this less… mortifying,” you suggested, tilting your head with a faint smile.
He looked up, cautious but intrigued. “And how would you do that?”
“Coffee,” you said simply, gesturing vaguely. “After you’re done with your errand of course.”
He blinked, and then, after a beat, allowed a small, crooked smile. “Yeah. I… I’d like that.”
Your smile widened. “Fourth time’s the charm, then?”
He nodded, still holding the magazines a little too tightly, but feeling lighter than he had a minute ago. “Seems so.”
And somehow, even in the middle of this ridiculous scenario, it seemed like the universe had arranged all these moment, absurd but inevitable all at once.
pairing: tamsy x (slightly unhinged) cleaner! reader
desc: based off of this post i made. reader is pretending to be someone they’re not & tamsy notices. (manga spoilers if you squint, tamsy’s personality is mentioned)
tw: mentions of violence (and possible mental illness?)
wc 1.1k
not proof read
—
a/n: i literally wrote this to indulged myself because i love that evil little man. also pls be kind i haven’t written ff in like 5yrs.
You were exhausted. Exhausted from missions, exhausted from the tireless work, and exhausted from pretending to be someone you weren’t. It was particularly challenging to adopt the bubbly and friendly demeanor of the person you were pretending to be when you were worn paper thin. You could feel the exhaustion seeping into your bones like it does on a cold night in midwinter.
One day in particular, you let the mask slip. Enjin was in one of his flirtatious moods, and you weren’t having it. Normally you’d play along with him, batting your eyelashes and giggling at whatever perverse joke or pickup line he made, but this day Enjin managed to strum every goddamn one of your nerves like he was playing a guitar.
The slip was brief, a few seconds at most, and then you were back. In those few seconds, you pictured yourself taking your vital instrument and stabbing it into Enjin’s neck, blood gushing from his jugular like a faucet. The thick liquid soaked his shirt and coat as he hit the ground with an audible thud. The voices clouded your mind, threatening to consume you whole, but in the blink of an eye, they were silenced. You flashed Enjin that charming smile everyone knew, as if you hadn’t just daydreamed about murdering your colleague and so called friend.
Enjin hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in whatever he was talking about but he did.
Tamsy immediately recognized the all-too-familiar way your eyes darkened and your face fell expressionless. He smirked under his mask in amusement. “How interesting,” he hummed to himself. He made sure to pocket this little observation for later — it might deem quite useful.
The following evening, you found yourself relaxing in the commons room alone at HQ, a book nestled in your hands as you lounged lazily on the couch. The soft shuffling of footsteps drew your attention to the door, where you saw Tamsy leaning against the frame.
You smiled at him. The same smile you always wore around other people. The one that never quite reached your eyes, but was bright enough to avoid suspicion, at least for most.
“Looks like you can’t sleep either. I didn’t peg you to be a night owl, Tamsy.” Your gaze met his as you folded a dog-ear into the book and closed it. Tamsy pushed himself off the doorframe and made his way toward you, a sly smile splayed on his lips.
“As much as I cherish a good night’s sleep, I found myself unable to rest properly tonight for some reason,” he said in that light tone he always used, his footsteps stopping just in front of you. “Tell me, what’s keeping you up tonight, y/n?”
You tilted your head upward at his question, that same smile still tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’ve always loved the night,” you murmured “there’s so much beauty in the darkness. Plus, I get to enjoy the quiet.”
You didn’t exactly answer his question, just tiptoed around it enough to pass as one. But he could see the honesty in your eyes, even if your expression didn’t match it.
“I see,” he hummed. “I too believe there is beauty in darkness. Some flowers bloom during the night that only a few are capable of appreciating.”
“Yes, exactly.” Your smile strained slightly as you nodded in agreement. He pressed his lips into a thin line, his golden eyes examining you closely.
“Y/n,” he sighed, leaning in a little closer to meet your eye line. “I have one more question for you. What happened between you and Enjin today? You looked like you genuinely wanted to harm him.”
Ah. He noticed that, did he? Of course he did.
“What?” you scoffed, letting out a half laugh. Your doe eyes reflected pure innocence as you looked up at him in utter shock and bewilderment at the accusation. “Why would I want to hurt Enjin? He’s my friend.”
Tamsy could see right through you. Looking at you was almost like peering into a mirror. He stared at you for a moment, his smile fading completely as he loomed over you. He thought it was almost cute.. the way you kept up this act even when you both knew it was a facade.
“It’s hard, isn’t it? Pretending?” he asked. The pleasant tone he usually carried had completely disappeared. He let out a breath, whether out of annoyance or disappointment, you couldn’t tell.
The silence stretched for what seemed like minutes as you gazed up at him with a blank stare. Your eyes were dull now, showing no emotion, your expression completely unreadable while a war raged in your mind.
You knew Tamsy was like you. Dark, depraved, and more than a little twisted. You just couldn’t prove it. In all honesty, you didn’t care to. You’d seen it in the way he watched Rudo when no one was looking. The way he carried himself, as if his body were a marionette to his mind — just like you. That alone was enough of an answer.
“Not hard, more like a constant game of charades. It’s not fun when I’m the only one who really gets to play.” You tilted your head to the side, almost bored with the conversation. “It’s so draining and boring to be nice all the time when I feel apathetic to most things.”
There it was. He knew it wouldn’t take much, you just needed a little push. He grinned, a shiver running down his spine, tingles of excitement blooming inside him from this revelation. Inner Tamsy was just as thrilled. This was going to be so much fun. He couldn’t wait to pick and prod your brain to see what he might find inside the depths of your mind.
He sat down next to you, that same wicked grin still lingering on his lips. “Let’s talk for a bit, shall we?” He leaned closer, his shoulder grazing yours as his golden eyes sparkled with delight, and something else you couldn’t quite place. “I think we have many things to discuss, and we may find ourselves to be very good friends.”
You beamed at his words. “I must say, I like the way you think.” The devilish smile on your face this time was genuine. Tamsy thought it suited you — and secretly hoped he’d be able to make you smile like that more often.
update: part 2 is in the works, but i have midterms so please be patient with me! college is beating my ass so bad
୨୧ ㅤִㅤׄ you so crazy. I think I wanna have your baby !.ᐟㅤׄㅤִ
ᥫ᭡ — 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : You’re drunk. Like, a way that you're really, really gone. And somehow you suddenly end up blurting out the most unserious “confession” ever.. (the title ok..?)
ᥫ᭡ — 𝐟𝐭. 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧, 𝐙𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐚 𝐍𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐤𝐮, 𝐓𝐚𝐦𝐬𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐑𝐮𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐆𝐍) ⠀(𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 .ᐟ) — (𝐌𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢)
ᥫ᭡ — 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 !? : very short ass DRABBLE tenks.HELP. Slightly suggestive, drunk “confession”, reader is drunk n lowki clingy as fuck n uhm fluff! Kasi bait ko ngayon😘💗 they aren't dating but like eachothar :3
ᥫ᭡ — 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 490
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀♡ ۪ ݁ ! Enjinㅤ۪ ౨ৎ
Enjin freezes mid-laugh, his eyes widen, smile slowly faltering like someone just pressed pause. Then his ears and cheeks go dusted pink.
“Wha— what did you just—?” he chokes, grin twitching.
“I— don't think that's how you confess..”
You only giggle loudly, looping your arms around his and leaning against his shoulder. Enjin's heart is gone. He's red from ear to ear, mumbling something how you can't just drop that line like it's casual while trying not to melt at the way you cling to him.
He spends the next five minutes trying to act normal, obviously failing miserably.
But when you laugh again, soft and tipsy and pressed too close, he smiles despite how much he tries to play it cool, he's hopeless for you already.
“You're unbelievable..” he says quietly, voice dipping into something real, something tender.
“But... Don't take it back, okay?”
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀♡ ۪ ݁ ! Zanka Nijikuㅤ۪ ౨ৎ
You slur it mid-laugh, and the glass almost slips out from Zanka's hands.
“...You're out of your damn mind,” he mutters, but his ears are glowing red.
He tries to brush it off—rolling his eyes, as he takes another sip, pretending it didn't fluster him.
Then you tug on his sleeve and rest your head on his arm, mumbling something about how he smells nice.
Zanka immediately stiffens, then exhales through a quiet laugh, hand hovering awkwardly before resting atop yours.
When you fall asleep on his shoulder later on, he can't stop the small smile tugginf at his lips.
“Crazy,” he whispers, “but maybe, I don't mind..”
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀♡ ۪ ݁ ! Tamsy Cainesㅤ۪ ౨ৎ
For a second he just stares at you blankly, Tamsy bursts out laughing. Like wheezing, nearly-doubling-over laughing.
“Ohh, you're bold tonight.” he teases, slyly grinning.
“Say that again when you're sober, and I'll see if I believe you.”
You poke at his cheek, slurring something about him being no fun before looping both of your arms around his neck and refusing to let go.
Tamsy just chuckles, one hand steadying you by the waist, the other brushing away drops of spilled drink from your chin.
“You're a mess,” he remarks, voice way softer than he intends it to be. “Lucky for you, darling, I don't mind cleaning up messes.”
You hum lazily against his shoulder, and he huffs out a laugh—pretending it doesn't make his chest ache a little.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀♡ ۪ ݁ ! Gris Rubionㅤ۪ ౨ৎ
He blinks. Once. Twice.
“...What?”
You're giggling too hard to repeat yourself again, already clutching the front of his jacket and leaning onto him for balance.
He looks both concerned and slightly panicked but clearly flustered. His hands hovering like he's not sure whether to steady you or run away.
“You shouldn't say things like that,” he mutters, voice low. “Not unless you mean it..”
When you pass out a minute later, still clinging onto him while drooling, he sighs, pulling his jacket over around your shoulders.
“... Crazy,” he murmurs, quiet enough that only the night hears,
“I think I wanna have you in my life, too.”
ᥫ᭡ — 𝐀/𝐍 : wow enjin u guys arent eben datinf n u wana make that confession true?? Ok?? Yes please BYE anywyas irs lowk rushed who cares its js a short drabble to make up for the angst ig..? HELP the title is a lyric from whatta a man by salt-n-pepa LOL 911 eddie ref 👅👅putangjna goodnight its like 1am rn.
Husband!Tamsy, who lets you closer than he does anyone else. You wake up in the morning to him sitting numbly on the bed, looking through the open balcony with a stare that shows he’s clearly not there. But instead of judging, you brush your hand agaisnt his gently, shifting in the bed enough so that he knows youre awake beforehand, not wanting to stradle him. After a while your hand moves from his hand up to his hair, gently tugging the long locks away as you press a kiss to the nape of his neck. How grateful he is for you no words could describe.
as a req: how do you think the gachiakuta guys (zanka, whoever else you think would react) would feel about reader touching/messing with their hair? either playfully or more than that,,
hihi! i love this actually!!! i tried not to write toooooo much bcs i still have part 2 of caught red-handed to write (which i finished the first character for :3) i also fear i may have played favourites when writing this :/ dont get me wrong i love them all but writing zanka just comes so easily to me!!! maybe its because i most of my drafts rn are obey me x reader and i write mammon similar to zanka but idk
warnings: fem!reader, mix of bullet points and actual text, spoilers for gachiakuta (nothing major, just a warning for those who haven't finished the Ground Wanderer/Raider Trap arcs), not beta read we die like regto
m.list
i feel like zanka would ADORE IT. he'd act like he doesnt actually care whether you do it or not, but every night he spends in your room instead of his (which is almost every night at this point), hes laying his head on your chest expectantly
you could be doing literally ANYTHING ELSE, and he'd try to get you to play with his hair. but, unlike OTHERS ON THIS LIST (ENJIN.), he will never outright ask you to do it. its up to your understanding of zanka-nese to decipher the code.
Zanka entered your room with an exhausted sigh. All day he had been running around doing something or another. First it was a mission to the outskirts of No Man's Land with Riyo and Rudo, and then, just as he got back, he was pushed him out the door yet again to handle some out-of-sorts Raiders. He didn't even have the time to wash the mud off his boots between the two events.
"Oh," You looked up from your book at your boyfriend walking through your door. Gently setting it on the bedside table, you opened your arms to him. Zanka wasted no time in shucking off his shoes and falling into your arms.
But, to his dismay, you pick up your book again. You don't bother to even spare him another glance. He tried slithering his head into your view once more, but you only adjusted your hold on that stupid book. Because of course you did. You couldn't spare your boyfriend even a second of your attention.
"What is it?" You grinned as you finally lifted your book after he nudged you for the umpteenth time, "Is something the matter?"
"...It's nothin'." Zanka responded bluntly. Now, he was sulking into your chest, much to your confusion, "If ya don't get it, then it ain't worth it."
You raised an eyebrow at that. He must mean that it was obvious, right? So what could it be? What was something that happened frequently enough for him to be like this over it?
But then, it dawned on you. You had this ritual, where the night he came back from particularly tough jobs, you'd read him a chapter or two from your current book while playing with his hair. Today must have been one of those days, and his pride was too large to admit it.
You tried hard to stifle your knowing giggle, which only caused Zanka to grow redder. You let go of your book with your left hand, wandering it into your boyfriends' hair. It was smooth to the touch, and carding your hands through his locks felt impossibly soft.
This was what Zanka wanted. He was just glad that you noticed in time.
enjin, same as zanka, LOVES IT.
well maybe not to such a degree, but he's obsessed too.
notice how i mentioned how enjin isn't afraid to ask you to do it? yeah. he is SHAMELESS about it. he can and will ask you to play with his hair as you guys cuddle.
It was late into the night, and neither of you could sleep. No matter how many times you tossed and turned and wiggled and adjusted, sleep just wouldn't come.
It wasn't until Enjin had a genius idea (genius, being stupid) that you actually believed you may get a semblance of respite from your shared insomnia.
"How about this;" Enjin turned over to face you, a grin wide on his face. You'd never get tired of that face, but what you would get tired of was his crazy ideas, "I know it's crazy hot outside, but maybe—just maybe, our problems are caused by ourselves."
When you asked what he meant, he laughed. Actually laughed, as if you had fallen right into his trap. He reached out to you, "We must miss each others company so much that we're losing sleep over it. I know I am." He teased, leaning down and grabbing your wrists to put your hands in his hair.
"It'd be much easier if we just slept like this, right?" He looked up at you from where he made himself comfortable just above your chest. Your hands absentmindedly carded through his hair; a subconscious habit. All you could do was sigh at his antics, shaking your head in mock disapproval.
You were already starting to sweat, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.
im sorry idk how to write tamsy i love him hes one of my favs but i am AT A LOSS
its less of a 'for him' thing than it is a 'for you' thing.
his hair is just so silky and long that you can't help but want to style it in all sorts of styles.
his personal favourite is when you endlessly braid and unbraid his hair. he can never get enough of that.
You had been sitting like this for the past hour. Tamsy was between your legs as you sat on the edge of the common room couch. He was in the midst of a game of poker with another Cleaner, in which he was winning by a landslide. It was lucky that there was no actual money on the line, or else his poor victim would be dead broke by now.
In that same hour, you had probably given his hair at least 15 different styles. Braids, ponytails, buns, you name it, you did it. He was loving it. Revel in the stress of this poor sap and have the love of his life pay all their attention to him? Absolute heaven.
It was only when you were called by Seimu that his immersion was ruined. Apparently, you were up for the next cleanup all the way near Canvas Town. That just wouldn't do.
As you chatted with Seimu, Tamsy decided he had to intervene.
"Can't someone else go?" He asked. When the woman opposed to him shook her head, he sighed. Reluctantly, he stood up. If you had to go, he'd go with you to make sure you'd come back safe and sound, hands intact to continue later.
he 1000% claims it helps his inspiration when you sit on his lap and play with his hair as he blasts music and works on sketches.
if he feels he can't work without you, then he will hunt you down and drag you to his workshop.
"Today went well, don't 'cha think?" Riyo questioned as she walked by your side. Today had been a fairly easy day; one mission that took less than twenty minutes to handle. Meaning, you had the rest of the day to relax, read, or generally lounge about.
"[NAME]!!!" Or, you would've had time to relax. That was, if your boyfriend wasn't August Stilza himself. Personified chaos in a singular blond man. He took your hand before you could respond to Riyo, dragging you off without a second thought.
When you got to his workshop, you noted the pages of designs on the floor that you had just organized for him not even a couple days ago. You'd have to have a talk with him about his creative liberties later.
He sat in his chair, scaling the music to the max once more. He pulled you down into his lap, facing him. You couldn't see what he was currently working on, but it must've been pretty important to him for him to get to work instantly. You sighed quietly, resting your head in the crook of his neck and pulling a chunk of his hair to mess around with.
" 'm workin' on somethin' for you." He answered your unspoken question, speaking far too fast for most people to be able to comfortably understand. You weren't most people, luckily, and you understood him clearly.
You also understood that he was supposed to be working on a uniform for a new recruit; something he hadn't even begun to draft.
"August," You started, your tone stern. His pencil immediately paused, and he didn't dare adjust his head to get a good look at your exression, "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate all the clothes you make me, but don't you have a job to do?" You interrogated. Of course he did, and of course you knew you couldn't push too hard, lest he get in one of his moods. But at the least, you could remind him of his job. For Arkha's sanity.
"Well, yeah." He answered, his pencil continuing, although this time far slower, "But I had this idea for something awesome. You'll see."
You sighed. Some things never change. You relaxed once more, quietly twirling his hair around your finger. You stop, he stops, and god forbid he take even longer to complete this task, further procrastinating on everything else he promised to the Cleaners.
“You’re awfully concentrated on my scars, do they interest you that much?” Tamsy’s voice was soft, like a lover’s caress. Your fingers grazed his chin, your touch sending goosebumps down his spine as he hummed in content. He tilted his head up so you could get a closer look, his fingers beckoning you closer like a puppeteer tugging on strings—or rather silk unraveling from a spool.
“How did you get them? They look like burn marks” you ask curiously, but he didn't answer right away. He let the silence stretch for a while until a slow smile spread across his face. “You're a curious one, aren’t you? Well, that’s for me to know…and for you to find out.”
Your brows furrowed, you knew better to pry, especially when it was with someone like Tamsy. For someone who kept you so close to his side, he sure was secretive about himself. Always dangling the truth just out of your reach.
“Besides,” He spoke softly, his smile not faltering even for a bit. “you need to stop asking so many questions. That’s a dangerous trait of yours… one that can get you in a lot of trouble.”
His fingers brushed over your hand, guiding it away from his chin with infuriating gentleness. He allowed his fingers to intertwine with yours giving them a faint squeeze as he spoke “Now, let’s not spoil the mood, hm?”
hiii have u heard of gachiakuta? i think you’d like tamsy or at least be interested in him!!
pretty — tamsy caines
summary. tamsy caines finds that every inconvenient and unwanted interaction with you twists his useless heart tighter around the spindle of your own poisoned affections.
notes. i watched this show because of this ask and then i went ahead and read the whole manga. tried to capture tamsys inner evil twink persona here. it was either this thing i wrote on a whim or he chases you around with a mask and a knife. no idea how to write this punk.
warnings. tamsy being evil™, mentions of vomit, you’re referred to as “pretty,” you wear heels (very important to the plot), otherwise gender neutral reader, tamsy being 23 years old, literally just everything wrong with tamsy, near death experience, this guy sucks straight up, slight manga spoilers though i tried to keep them minimal and vague.
Tamsy Caines is obsessed with you.
Initially he dismisses the feeling. He’s all too familiar with obsession and its many ugly and invigorating forms. He’s obsessed with his hair, he’s obsessed with a certain shiny gold star from team Akuta, he’s obsessed with obtaining as many piercings as possible, he’s obsessed with the way you walk–
He glares at the radio clock on his bedside table. It’s that stupid host prattling on about the weather — and seriously, why can’t the stupid guy just play some real music?
In discovering his new found fascination, he grew resentful. He avoided you altogether for weeks, though not entirely. He had an agenda. If he just straight up didn’t talk to you, you’d notice. You’d call him out. You’d march right up to him and ask what you did wrong.
And then he’d feel bad–
Tamsy physically grimaces.
He dismisses it as simple attraction. You’re pretty, smart, you smile when he walks in the room. You’re tough, you speak your mind, you’re pretty, you’re super smart, you touched his hair once–
Tamsy almost vomits on the floor.
The first instance he knew something was wrong was when he eventually elected you as his future sacrifice of sorts. To toy around and tease that kid again because he was getting bored. He’s always so bored and impatient.
Pretty.
He’d maimed faces. Lots of faces. Pretty ones too. He’d never taken an issue with it.
It was after some party some of the Cleaners threw in the city where you’d stumbled into him back at HQ, half-wasted, with a weird sort of look on your face. You were pretty then, too. Granted, you looked a mess.
He likes messes. They’re always fun to clean up.
His eyes had immediately dragged down to your heels, and your legs, and then up from there to your chest. Inner turmoil aside, you’d mumbled some nonsense he barely picked up on before you attempted to move past him. You didn’t make it far before he watched you gracefully fall in the hallway. You’d be bruised in the morning, but you wouldn’t remember anything.
You leaned against the wall and sighed dramatically.
After a moment of debate, Tamsy exhaled through his nose. “How about you get to bed?”
“Ugh.” You had your head in your hands. “Why don’t you carry me?” Half assed, barely any effort. You weren’t trying to be inappropriate — because he made sure of that before attempting another offering.
“Alright.”
And he did. It was awkward. He didn’t so much carry you as he knelt down on the floor to remove your heels and help you to your feet. You had hooked an arm around his shoulders and gently hobbled all the way to the elevator.
You were mumbling the entire ride up to the fifth floor. Something about the weather, something about your shoes he was holding in his hands — Tamsy had no idea he had such an obsession with shoes until that very moment.
Something about your outfit, something about how you were cold, starving, something about how pretty his hair was–
What.
“Mm.” Your hand had reached upwards to touch at the butterfly clip holding the blond and blue apart. “Pretty.”
About ten minutes later he’d pin your hair back with that same clip in his hair to salvage whatever dignity you had left while you hurled in the bathroom. He’d left momentarily, mostly to drown out the sound of that, but also to go fetch you something to eat.
When he returned with a water bottle and a container of plain crackers, he’d put them aside to scrub at the remains of makeup, spit and snot covering your skin before you eventually passed out face down into your pillow.
Then, he’d picked up your heels and left.
Now, they sit beneath his bed, and when he feels extra sick and pathetic, he stares at them for hours.
Your shoes were the catalyst to something worse.
It was considered for a long time a simple crush. He’d grow out of it eventually. He’s got more important things to worry about. Your shoes, the hairclip you eventually returned, the one time you randomly gifted him a takeout box full of chow mein for no reason other than, “I bought too much. You can have it.”
And through his stomach his obsession grew.
Tamsy picks idly at his pink slippers and shoves the heels back under his bed.
The second time he had solidified this was indeed a problem was on a mission Boss man considered tougher than most. Akuta and Eager were enforced, as well as five Supporters, one of which was you. Delmon was loud and proud as usual, and it was particularly humid that day. Tamsy was desperately trying to hide his grimace beneath his mask the entire time.
And thank God he did, because if Delmon noticed he’d been staring at you the entire time, he’d never hear the end of it.
It was tough. A barrage of Trash Beasts and three lousy Raiders that put up a decent fight and managed to knock little Zanka out of the water, but overall, they all managed. It was at the end, when the cavern they’d crawled into ended up crumbling in on itself.
Tamsy came in handy here because the yarn he deftly wrapped around his distaff every morning with gritted teeth could hoist the Cleaners up easily. He spun it round and round every fucking morning imagining how beautiful the blue would look against your flesh. He was bored. He could’ve dropped someone.
He could’ve dropped you.
And he tried.
Follo slipped below you and, in a panic, grabbed onto your leg. You tried to reach for him, but it resulted in a tumble over the ledge. Follo managed to scrabble up and attempted to reach for you as the rocks fell and shook.
And then a rock fell past him and smashed into your fingers before he could wrap his hand around your arm.
“Tamsy!”
He looked down from the top.
Then, he held in a sigh and muscled his way down there after everyone was wound up. He managed to retrieve Follo with a simple snug of yarn around his arm that pulled him upwards.
Follo, however, was in hysterics. “I pulled ‘em! I pulled them! You have to go and–”
Tamsy narrowed his gaze at the wailing teenager. “Who is–”
Follo shouted your name in anguish, tears brimming at his lash line. He was writhing in the rope, attempting to flee. Tamsy supposed his plan was to jump down and die after you like some sort of sad hero.
So, in an attempt to play Good Samaritan, Tamsy followed you down into the hole.
It took him a while to find you, really. You’d crawled away from the sun to avoid being hit by anything. You looked horrible as well. Fingers bent awkwardly and purpling, your leg was twisted, welts that will bruise, a cut in your forehead, and still somehow awake and alert.
“Don’t struggle,” he implored. He rushed over to your side with a long rope of blue in his hands. He tied one of your entire arms against his tightly, and you stammered in shock. “This will hurt.”
You barely heard any of his reassuring words through the pain.
Next, the rope looped around your good ankle, your thigh, your waist, anything to keep you flush on him. If he was going to do this, he needed to make a show. This wasn’t his doing. This would be an accident.
“Hold onto me.”
And you did. Your grip wasn’t strong, but it was enough.
He considered it.
And he hesitated.
The string was already looped around your neck.
To die in his strings.
How romantic.
All he had to do was pull. All he had to do was pull. Pull and wait until your face faded in colour. Then he’d return to a shit show. And it would be perfect. He could snap your pretty neck here, and put you out of your misery. Because he’s a nice guy, and he cares.
He can take a stray metal shrapnel lying on the cave floor and drive it through your throat.
He can make all of your pain go away.
But he hesitated.
A mild dilemma.
A misstep in his plan.
Fuck.
Your arms tightened around him. He felt everything. Your fluttering heart beat, your irregular breathing, the way you melted so perfectly into a pool of flesh and bone against him. Those metal bands wrote songs about this terrible fucking feeling.
Tamsy still remembers what happened when they eventually got you and the five others injured during the ordeal into the medical wing. Follo and you were the most dire — sprains and breaks, bruises and welts. Gris and Zanka were tended to, and that batty old hag Enjin received a broken nose after the scuffle.
For points, Tamsy remained patient until you all eventually woke up. Follo from the next bed over was so relieved you made it, guilt stirring heavy in his gut at the entire fiasco.
Tamsy had eventually gotten to you, whispering once, “it's a relief to see you awake.” Because you have beautiful eyes, but he omitted that.
“Thank you,” you murmur. It was just you two for the moment. He was hoping by acting extremely relieved and ignoring the fact he could very well suffocate you with a pillow you’d forget about his hesitation from your rescue.
“How are you now?”
You adjusted yourself to sit up. “Exhausted.” You exhaled through the pain. “I’ve been better.”
“Still snarky as ever,” he commented. “That means you’re recovering.” He reached forward to fix your blankets, gingerly avoiding the tube in your arm. Why he did that, he had no idea.
“Thank you,” you repeated. “For coming back down for me.”
Ew.
“I wasn’t going to just leave you there,” he lied with a teasing grin on his lips. He leaned down to prod at your forehead gently and brush at your muzzled eyebrow. “Get some sleep.”
You had other plans. Tamsy was very rarely caught off guard, but the minute you turned your head to plant your lips onto his wrist he practically froze on the spot. As embarrassing as it was feeling blood rush up his neck, he was quick to act.
He pinched your cheek before making his exit.
Tamsy realised saving you had been a mistake. For a while he was just a pretty face to gawk at in the dining hall, but now he saved your life, and you owed him big time.
One kiss turned into two, into three, into four, until one night he felt your lips on his cheek where the sensitive scarred skin crossed his face. It was only downhill from there. Tamsy would return that night to his room contemplating scrubbing his face fifteen times or not at all. It was a matter of pride and a deep seeded hatred pooling in his stomach.
Had he just disposed of you, none of this would be happening.
And now he can't, because you provide him a feeling he’s never felt before. Not in this sort of way. Not in the way that makes him feel like he’s bigger, he’s better, he’s worth something.
And that’s a disgusting, pitiful thought.
He turns the radio clock off. Better silence than unwanted noise.
Ugh.
He’ll just have to pull through. He can do that. He’s good at improvising. He’ll just play along for however long it takes to grow out of this feeling in his stomach. Like moths. Like a thousand insects wriggling beneath his skin.
He peels himself off the floor and gets ready just in the knick of time. Back in the briefing room, next to Delmon, pretending he doesn’t want to blow his brains out against the wall. All day the same thing, all day the boring chats, pretending to read through some sheet, giving Corvus a nod and ignoring the way he gets stared at.
Then, in the dining hall for dinner. He’s not even hungry. He’s preoccupied, and disgusted, and frankly, he wants to march into your room and rip your pretty face to shreds.
So pretty, and perfect, and smart, and kind and patient and charming and funny and–
He almost bends his fork.
Delmon is yelling in one ear to Follo on the other side of the table. He looks engaged in the conversation, but he winces every time Delmon opens his mouth.
There’s a gentle tap on his shoulder as you slide into the seat next to him. “You look stressed.”
He is. He can't even offer you a glance or he might vomit directly into your lap. “I’m fine.” He picks idly at his food — potatoes and overcooked meat. He notices you don’t even have a plate.
He can feel your heel bouncing nervously beneath the table.
“D’you wanna get out of here?” you ask sheepishly. “There’s a restaurant I wanted to try out in the city.” Then, you bop him on the shoulder. “It has noodles.”
Tamsy almost chokes on his own saliva.
“A date?!”
He leaps up from the table to clasp a hand over Delmon’s mouth as he practically dances in his seat in excitement.
He’s still loud, but his words are muffled.
“Keep your voice down!” Tamsy sneers through his teeth. Spare him the humiliation. His cheeks are burning as is.
“Me and my wife’s first date was at a noodle place!” Tamsy tries his best but Delmon pushes through the gaps in his fingers.
“Enough, please!” Tamsy cries out.
Delmon, somehow, lowers his voice. “Of course he’ll go with you.” He slides Tamsy’s plate out of his reach. Not as if he was eating it anyway.
You stare at him.
He stares back. He wants to drive his fork through your eyes.
Pretty.
He manages to suppress his sneer. “Yes, I’ll come along.”
“Great.” You raise a finger at Delmon before he can cheer and disrupt the entire hall. You grab Tamsy by the wrist and pull him along out of the room.
Gris takes your spot and Enjin follows him on the other end.
Enjin murmurs while picking at his steak, watching you both skittishly leave, “they fuckin’?”
Follo goes bright red and Delmon lets out a hefty laugh.
Gris snorts. “Probably.”
He should not have gone out for noodles with you, either. It’s like every time you asked him to do something he just became an obedient puppet with you pulling at the large blue strings of his instrument. And it sucked as much as it was intriguing.
The night was wildly uneventful, though the restaurant was nice. Good food, and again, he was more entertained by your face than anything else the entire night.
He doesn’t look to his left where you walk alongside him. There’s a gentle click of your shoes — he’ll take those too, eventually. Another keepsake. Maybe clothes next, and then makeup, your comb, toothbrush, and then you can share the bed with him.
It takes everything in him not to puke.
And then, he smiles nicely in the hallway back at HQ. “Thank you for bringing me along.”
“Oh, that’s alright,” you respond. You still look sheepish. “Thanks for coming.” You clear your throat. “I had fun. You’re, uh… good company.”
Awkward.
You both wait for the elevator. It’s empty when it shows up.
When you step in, you awkwardly reach for the silver ‘4’ button while he taps ‘5.’
And then he stares.
He stares for a long time out of the corner of his eye. You’re talking about something but he’s barely focusing on what you’re saying. Blah blah blah, I’m so pretty, I’m so perfect, don’t you just want to lay me down on your sheets and–
“You okay?”
Oh.
You’re touching his hair again. So gentle and soft. You look tired, but your fingers curl around one of the blond sections of his hair above his ear.
This sucks.
A lot.
This is not a problem he wants to be stuck in. This is painful. This is a new sensation for him. A pretty thing touching him. Wanting to touch him. Complimenting him, tugging lightly at his hair, threatening to tug out the hair tie holding half of it away from his face.
“By the way, remember that one night after the party you helped me out? Did I leave my shoes with you? I can’t find them, and–”
In response to your question, and with the way his hair falls over his shoulders when you fling his hair tie at him with a wide grin on your face, he leans down slightly to press his lips to the corner of your mouth.
One sneaky turn of your head and his lips are on yours.
It’s quick, barely even longer than a second before you pull back with a snicker.
It’s like he’s a teenager all over again the way he almost giggles back. Instead, he looks flustered and dizzy.
It’s a good look on him.
The elevator door opens to his floor. You usher him out with wild eyes and a playful push to his chest.
“Good night,” you whisper as the doors close.
Mhm.
Great night.
He stumbles to bed, slips out of his uncomfortable clothes and tries not to scream into his pillow or throw a fist through the window.
And then the nightly cycle repeats.
He pulls your heels out from under his bed. His mouth trembles before he sighs.
This is the worst.
This obsession will go away eventually. The churning in his stomach like insects. His thudding heart and the lingering heat on his mouth.
heyyyyy, noticed your gachiakuta masterlist was a little empty so now it's my mission to fill it up ✌️ request for the day: tamsy caines! Idk how to word this but could we get a reader who has a huge crush on tamsy and was really close with him but when we realised our crush we began avoiding him and he doesn't like it so being the t*msy that he is he schemes scenarios where we are stuck with him. Take your time! No pressure!
-from: idk imma fill up ur masterlist tho
Mission: Forced Proximity
Characters: Tamsy Caines
Type: Oneshot, Gn!Reader
In which Tamsy doesn't take your sudden avoidance so lightly
Warnings: minor spoilers? (Tamsy's personality) it's very vague so I don't think it counts much
When you became a cleaner romance wasn't something you expected to be in the cards for you. Your focus had simply been on taking out trash beasts while developing a solid relationship with the people who were technically your coworkers. Despite that though, many of them became much more than that, now holding a dear spot in your heart.
Especially Tamsy.
Out of all of the cleaners he was the one you would consider your best friend. Over time the two of you naturally fell into a rhythm where neither of you were too far from the other. Often times you found yourself at his side talking his ear off about whatever while he listened to every word. It wasn't long until you found yourself seeking him out, friendship reaching a level where you were comfortable enough to share things and touch each other casually.
It wasn't until Enjin mentioned it did you realize your feelings for Tamsy may be something more than platonic.
It was the evening, HQ settling down into a still quietness while you sat at the bar in the mess hall, sipping on a cup of tea to unwind after a day's work. Enjin had walked in, sitting down with whatever alcoholic beverage he chose for the night. The two of you exchanged greetings then a beat of silence passed before Enjin spoke up again.
"So...you and Tamsy, huh?" he asked, a playful lilt carrying in his voice.
You raised an eyebrow and set your cup down, glancing over to see his face contorted into that all-too-familiar lopsided grin.
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh c'mon! It's clear you like each other. You guys are as thick as thieves."
"Of course we like each other," you said, confusion evident in your tone and face. "He's my friend."
The blonde male before you stared at you in disbelief before shaking his head.
"Not what I meant. Your feelings for him run deeper than just friendship don't they?"
You stared at him blankly as the gears turned in your head, every little moment with the two-toned haired man running through your mind at high speed.
Your first few conversations. The first time you caught Tamsy out of uniform. The times he let you lay in his bed and tell him about your day. The nights the two of you spent laying beneath the stars, just existing together.
Along with your memories, realization hit you like a truck as your facial expression turned from shocked to horrified.
You were falling in love with Tamsy Caines.
Enjin bursts out laughing as he watched your thought process through your expression.
"You've gotta be kidding me- you seriously didn't realize until just now!? Man, everyone here at HQ could tell!"
"EVERYONE!?"
You shot up from your stool, nearly knocking your half finished beverage over as your hands went to grip Enjin's collar.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN EVERYONE!? ARE YOU SERIOUSLY TELLING ME EVERYONE KNOWS I LIKE TAMSY WHEN I JUST FIGURED THAT OUT MYSELF?!?!??!??"
You shook the poor man violently as if doing so would answer all of your questions.
"Woah- chill out would you!?"
Enjin pried your hands off of him and pushed you back down onto your bar stool.
"But yeah, you're super obvious. Im sure the man himself knows at this point."
Your entire being burnt with embarrassment as you hid your face in your hands, resting your forehead on the bar.
"Don't look at me..."
Your fellow cleaner chuckled and patted you on your back before downing the rest of his drink.
"Seems like you got a lot to think about. I'll leave you to it"
After your conversation, you barely got any sleep that night. Laying awake in the middle of the night, you stared pensively at your blank ceiling.
Despite your closeness there were still so many things you didn't know about Tamsy, like how he got his scars, why he became a cleaner or his type in a romantic partner.
And that along with your own emotions is what scared you.
If what Enjin said was true and the man of your affections really did know how you felt, you're not sure you could handle that.
Besides, Tamsy was too cool for you. Friendship was one thing, but the chances of a guy like him liking you romantic were slim to none, weren't they?
You hated how vulnerable you felt at the moment. The idea that Tamsy only put up with you to keep things peaceful crept from the back of your mind, soon plaguing your train of thought. That's when you made what you thought to be the most rational decision.
Avoid him as much as possible.
A few days went by of you turning around and going the opposite direction whenever you spotted Tamsy. Whenever he caught you first, you would offer a polite greeting before promptly weaving your way somewhere else. The first time, he watched you disappear with a mixture of shock and confusion written across his face. After some thought he assumed you must've been busy and shrugged it off.
But time went on and you still barely spared him a passing glance.
He was growing increasingly annoyed with your sudden avoidance. Every time you slipped away from him when he approached you his inner voice screamed at you in frustration.
'WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM!?'
Tamsy often kept people at an arms length wether they knew it or not. You were the only one who was able to get as close to him as you have. In the early stages of your friendship he had already felt at peace in your presence. Something he hasn't ever experienced before. And now, seemingly for no reason at all, you stripped him of that feeling. He observed how every time he sought you out you came up with some lame excuse on why you had to go.
Yet, you were still your normal self with the other cleaners. Why was it just him getting stiffed? Could you have found out who he really was?
'No. They're not that smart.'
But this cycle has gone on for far too long. If you wouldn't come back around on your own, he'd take it into his own hands.
"Semiu, I need to ask you a favor."
The receptionist was flipping through one of the many dirty magazines she had sent Tamsy out to buy for her. She paused, shamelessly leaving it open before she glanced up at the man through the lenses of her glasses.
"What could you possibly need from me?"
"Whatever my next mission is," he started, playing with the wrapped portion of his hair. "Make sure Y/n goes with me."
Semiu raised a pale brow at him.
"Okay...but may I ask why?"
"Nothing special really," he turned his back to the reception desk before starting his descent back down the hallway. "Just thought we'd make a good team is all."
The minute you looked over the mission brief you rushed your way towards the front desk.
'Cleaners Assigned: Y/n L/n and Tamsy Caines'
You slid to a stop, slamming your hands down on the wooden surface, shaking everything that rested on top of it. Semiu looked up from her paperwork with annoyance.
"Now what is your problem?"
"Semiu please, I'm begging you, swap me or Tamsy out for literally anyone else. I can't go on this mission with him!"
"And why the hell not?" she sassed. "The two are always together. You'd figure a job would be no problem."
You looked around frantically before leaning into her, voice dropping to a whisper.
"I think...I think I'm in love with him. And I've been too scared to face him."
Semiu only stared at you with a face that read 'Seriously? No shit' while you did your best to hold in your embarassment.
"Y/n. I think everyone but you knew that."
"That's what Enjin said!" you yelled, gripping the hair sprouting from your scalp in distress.
"But please!! I don't know how to handle this, just send someone else-!"
"Hey, Y/n."
That entirely too familiar voice sounded from behind you, causing your body to tense up before slowly turning to face him.
You know what they say; speak of the devil and he shall appear.
There the man of the hour stood, offering you that closed eyed smile he always does. Your heart fluttered with both affection as well as terror.
Please don't tell me he heard any of that.
"I just read over our mission brief. We should get going as soon as possible."
"Um, yeah, okay!" you said, cursing yourself over how shaky it sounded. Following him out the door, you turned back to look at Semiu who flashed you a mocking look.
Semiu...how could you!?
"Stay safe you two."
The ride to the site of the trash beast sighting was painfully quiet. The only sounds filling your ears being the hum of the engine and low music coming from the radio. Luckily, there were other members from the support group with you, but you were almost certain they could feel the tension as well while you sat in the back next to Tamsy.
For now you had just one thing in mind. Make quick work of this trash beast and hurry home.
And the two of you did just that.
Except for when Tamsy stopped you before you could hop back in the car.
He grabbed your wrist, looking at you with knitted brows and the downturn of his lips.
"Can I talk to you for a second?"
You knew you couldn't keep running forever. This conversation was coming sooner or later, but you couldn't help but hope it were later. With a deep, shaky breath you agreed and let him pull you away from the car; somewhere no one else was in earshot.
Once you made it far enough he stopped, turning to face you with an uncharacteristic frown. You felt your heart twinge at the sight of him, his eyes holding some sort of emptiness in them you'd never noticed before.
"What's going on? You've been avoiding me for days."
"Whatttt? I'm not avoiding you, I'm just...busy," you fib, shifting uncomfortably and avoiding his gaze. One of his hands came up and held your face still, forcing you to look at him.
"You're a terrible liar," he said, his annoyance evident in his tone of voice as well as how his expression hardened for a split second. What seemed to be a flash of anger disappeared as quickly as it came, his eyes softening as he stared into your's.
You felt heat creep up from your neck to the tip of your ears, trying to pull away only for Tamsy to bring you back in by your shoulders.
"Can we please talk about this later?"
"No, because I know you're going to try and avoid me again. I miss you, you know?"
Accepting your fate, you stop resisting him and rest your forehead against his chest. You peered down at the ground, hoping that avoiding his gaze would make what you're about to say less embarrassing.
"I like you, Tamsy. More than a friend," you confess. "And I don't know how to deal with that."
A beat of silence passes.
Then comes the sound of his laughter.
Wait a minute- IS HE LAUGHING AT ME?
You look up at him both confused and offended as boisterous laughter escaped from the typically very nonchalant Tamsy.
"Seriously? You've been avoiding me like the plague over a crush?"
You were already embarrassed, but having him put it that way only worsened the feeling. It felt like being an awkward, fidgety teenager all over again.
"You don't have to be an ass about it.." you mumble, turning around to rush back to the car. His laughter died down as he caught up to you, this time not stopping you as he grabbed your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. You looked down at your clasped hands with wide eyes.
"You could've just said that, you know?" he said, looking at you with his usual smile. "Would've saved us a lot of trouble. Seriously though, never ignore me like that again."
His hand never left yours, even once you arrived at HQ and made your way down the halls. Even so, he kept his cool demeanor while you hid your face in embarrassment from both Enjin and Semiu who shot you knowing looks that all but screamed 'called it'.
You were now laying on your back next to Tamsy, who had recently been promoted from best friend to boyfriend.
His long hair was sprawled across his sheets, draping over the both of you as he shifted to prop himself upwards. His blonde eyelashes fluttered as he blinked down at you with a smug smile. His face was only inches away as he spoke.
"I can't believe wittle Y/n shut down because they couldn't handle their feelings," he teased, eyes crinkling with amusement.
"Oh, shut up," you huffed, rolling on to your side and facing your back towards him.
"You're cute when you're shy," he whispered in your ear, only flustering you further.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you mumbled as an attempt to seem unaffected. Tamsy saw right through you though, enjoying the effect he had on you. Resting his chin in the crook of your neck, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against his front.
"No need to deny it. I'm your boyfriend now, after all~"
____
sry if this is ooc or not what you wanted im tired 😞
summary. tamsy buys you a drink and offers you more of his attention than you probably deserve.
notes. very tamsy pilled rn. i feel like this is not that good but it had to come off of my chest or i’d die. this guy is actually extremely difficult to write for.
warnings. tamsy caines agenda posting where his interpretation of a small crush is severely warped, smoking, drinking, innuendos & sexual references, drug mentions, nothing actually happens you’re just kind of a freak.
“Dude, I didn’t know you drank!” you beam. There’s a light buzz in your head. The shot from earlier would probably be the culprit. You’d downed it with your nose plugged, but you’d beaten Follo and Tomme easily. Tomme could only stomach half a shot glass, and Follo was so struck by the taste that he’d almost passed out at the counter.
The bar is loud, but you don't mind. It’s better when it drowns out everything. Every so often someone comes along to distract you from the unconscious swaying in your seat. Gris was usually always up for a chat, but tonight he was preoccupied with a few rounds of poker at the men’s table. The testosterone table. Real manly. Strip poker.
“Got tired of losing?”
“As a matter of fact,” Tamsy starts defensively, “I only had to take off my tie.” He sighs. Sure enough, his blue tie is looped around the ruffled collar of his shirt. “But poker isn’t really my thing.”
The men’s table. Poker. Testosterone, big, buff, strong. Protectors, providers, all gruff and muscly, blah blah blah. Tamsy doesn’t really fit the part.
“But you drink?” you ask curiously.
“Not usually.” He sits beside you at the counter, holding two giant pints in his hand. “Though, I suppose a celebration is in order. It would be strange to just stand in the corner.”
Tamsy slides a pint towards you. The beer bubbles and fizzles at the rim as you wrap your hands around the giant glass.
Tamsy is a bit weird. That’s the only way you can put it. He’s a nice guy, almost too nice, sometimes. He’s quick to offer a helping hand around HQ and he seems to have eyes on the back of his head peering through the long tresses of hair he flaunts to make sure you’re doing alright. Pretty much everyone likes him, or at the very least, can admit he’s a ‘decent guy.’ Helpful out on the field, too, with his freaky rope gimmick.
But, he’s nice.
Cute, too.
You should keep your distance.
“You roofieing me?” you question, staring down at the pint.
“Of course,” he responds easily. “Out in the open, in front of all of our friends.” He points behind his shoulder to the band of Cleaners smacking at the table and tossing chips at Enjin’s head when he’s not looking. “It’s the perfect opportunity.”
Most of them are completely wasted, but you’re sure if you were to fall flat unconscious on the bench both the bartender and the group would step in.
Not that Tamsy ever would. You don’t think Tamsy’s that type of guy. Too nice. Too gentle. A bit bleak and too honest at times, but nice.
And poison is too easy. Boring, flat. Not his style.
He raises his glass to yours expectantly, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.
“I get it,” you say. “Cheers.” You raise the rim of your pint to his before you try your best not to wince as the drink goes down. The beer tastes like shit, and it’s disgustingly bitter going down. Tamsy doesn’t seem to be in any better of a state than you. He even puts his glass down before yours and holds the back of his knuckles up to his lips.
You almost gag. “What did you order?”
Tamsy tries to hold in a laugh. His eyes are watering from the burning in his throat.
“Dude.” You almost gag. “It’s like drinking piss.” Holy shit. “Oh my… that’s disgusting–” You reach over to try and smack him in the face. He’s holding his hands out in defense and snickering.
You burst out laughing in response, and your cheek ends up pressing to his shoulder through his jacket.
In some sort of drunken stupor, Tamsy raises a hand to hold you in place on the other side of your face. It’s gentle, quick, you barely even notice it.
You raise the terrible drink to your lips again.
Holding your breath, you manage to down half of it. The drink doesn’t get any better. The bar carries on with your head in his hands. You sigh, holding the glass as if it’s your lifeline. It sort of is.
The alcohol is enough to tolerate the noise.
He’s really gentle though.
Shockingly, his jacket smells nice. A sweet tang settles in the air, though it’s extremely faint. You can’t pinpoint which exact fruit it might be. You’re not too familiar with fresh, actually tasty fruit, but he smells good nonetheless.
You press your nose into his arm after swallowing down another swig of shit. The glass is almost empty now. Tamsy has barely managed to reach half way. He doesn’t seem too eager to pick his drink back up. You’re not surprised. He seems more of an ice cream sundae guy, with cherries on top.
Cherries.
That’s probably the smell. The little red berries that come in pairs. Kind of sour, mostly sweet, light on your tongue, extremely hard to come by. You’ve had them once or twice because you remember spitting the pips out directly in Enjin’s face.
Good times.
“You gonna finish that?” you ask him, removing your nose from his arm.
Tamsy gestures to his drink. “Be my guest.”
“I don't want it,” you snip. You set your empty pint down. “I’m gonna have a smoke. And maybe a crisis.” You stand, somehow, from your chair. “Come.”
Tamsy lets you pull him out from the chair. There’s some whistling and hollering from the men’s table when one of them spots you both leaving. Tamsy offers an innocent wave while you aim a bottle cap at Enjin’s nose. It misses miserably, but you don’t really care.
You drag him along like a dog.
Tamsy is undoubtedly confused, but he keeps that gentle and almost coy smile on his face. He’ll play along. He’ll be your little lapdog for the night if it makes you feel good.
He enjoys staring at you anyway, especially when you’re helpless. He’s seen you many times battered and bruised on missions.
Fanciful Team Danger, so none of the others really get an opportunity to see how you function.
Usually dispatched on your own, though very rarely does Corvus send Eager to clean up after you. Tamsy always tends to accept, and Delmon is easy to convince into anything.
You’re strong, and seeing you move is always a show he rather enjoys. However, it’s always a treat to see you tuckered out in the car. Leaning on the window, on whoever was unfortunate enough to end up next to you at the back—usually him. He’s more than happy to lend you his shoulder.
It’s fascinating watching you breathe. So jagged and spaced out. The way it evens after a while when you finally fall asleep.
So vulnerable.
And you have such a delicate throat.
“You want one?”
His face falls flat.
And you’ll tarnish it with filth.
You’re holding a box of cigarettes up towards him. You’ve seated yourself on the stone steps at the back entrance to the bar. Off to the side, away from the public, just out of the shadows and the flickering street lights. Private, secluded, perfect. The street is largely deserted. He’s sure the main entrance is busier.
Tamsy sits next to you.
Then, after a moment, he takes a fresh one from the box.
“Dude. You actually smoke?”
No. He doesn’t. Not at all. He’s more interested in how you light the butt of his cigarette against your own lit one. He’ll endure, however. He does. Barely.
Thank goodness it’s dark, because otherwise you’d notice how his lips purse in disgust when he inhales tar directly into his lungs. Then you’ll notice how he gawks at the butt of your cigar lights up with every inhale and how you tap idly with your nails at the edge of your lighter before you pocket it.
Then you pluck the cigar from his fingers. He lets you, albeit confusion swims in his veins like ice. “Actually, don’t do that.” You press the tar to the concrete before you throw it into the shadows. “You’ll ruin the smell.”
“‘The smell,’” he repeats.
“The cherry smell.” You hum. You wave your cigarette in his face. “Your perfume.”
“It’s raspberry.” His eyes narrow playfully.
Oops.
“Oh.” You clear your throat. “Same thing.”
“Not exactly,” he teases.
You don’t really care. You lean against his arm. “It’s nice, whatever it is.” Not a lot of people smell good down here. You don’t blame them, really. You can’t imagine you smell good all the time either.
You probably reek of booze and smoke right now. Tamsy doesn’t seem to mind. He takes your face lightly and studies how the shadows fold over everything delicate and easy to break. The creases beneath your eyes, the lingering tar on your lips, enlarged pupils. All precious. “Perhaps we should go back to HQ and get you cleaned up.”
“We should kiss instead,” you slur through the smoke.
Tamsy is struck for a moment. Huh?
You don’t seem to be leaning in, however.
You’re eyeing the piercing below his lip. “Do you have more of those?” You point the lit end of your cigarette dangerously close to the metal.
He pokes his tongue out at you. Sure enough, there’s a wisp of silver placed in the centre of his tongue.
“Ouch.”
“Oh, it doesn’t hurt anymore,” he assures.
“Anywhere else?” you ask. You glance oddly at him. “Do you have any piercings on y–”
“You know…” Tamsy chews on the inside of his cheek, thoughtful. Truly, he’s trying to see what would make his heart burst harder—if he were to throw his fist directly at your nose and feel your blood slicken his knuckles, or if you were to stick your ash ridden tongue down his throat. “You have a terrible mouth on you.”
“I’m just curious.” You boop him on the nose with the side of your cigarette. “We never really get to chat. I don’t know anything about you.”
“There isn’t much to know,” he concedes easily. “I’m not overtly special.” He presses his lips into a smile. “You’re much more interesting than me.”
You make a noise. “What’s your favourite colour?” You take a drag of the cigarette and try your best to blow the smoke away from his face.
Maybe red. Red looks nice on you. It would look lovely all over his hands and beneath his nails too. Hmm. “Pink.”
“Dude. Real shit?” You point to the bottom of your scalp in a gesture to his own hair. “You didn’t wanna dye your hair pink?”
“Goodness, no,” he gasps, almost looking offended like you’d slashed him with a hot iron. “That’ll never wash out.”
You ask him heaps of questions. Most are mundane: music taste, favourite food, hobbies, the usual back and forth. He entertains you and lies for half of them, not that you notice.
It gets boring quickly.
Most things get boring quickly for him. Never you, though. Maybe the idle drunken chatter and the occasional giggle that makes his stomach turn, but not you. You’ve always been relatively tolerable, and you seem to have a huge bleeding heart. So generous and willing, so strong, so vulnerable.
He has an arm looped around your shoulders.
He could, if he wanted to. He can.
“You ever gotten into kinky shit with your instrument?” You poke him in the ribs. “Y’know… all the freaky bondage shit? Girls are super into that.”
They’re also into cute guys.
And big noses.
And piercings!
Tamsy almost chokes on his own saliva. He swallows the urge to punch you square in the nose. He’ll forgive the transgressions this once. You’re clearly out of your mind, and the smoke isn’t helping clear your head. “Can’t say I have.”
Thankfully, you won't remember half of the conversation.
You don’t add anything else.
You blow smoke out of your nose.
Then, you lean back on the stairs. Your cigarette is basically finished, barely a stub left in between your fingers. Tamsy plucks it from your hand and tosses it out on the street. He remains upright, watching closely.
Vulnerable.
So easy.
It’s too easy.
And it’s too suspicious.
They saw you leave with him.
He wouldn’t do that, anyway. Not now. Not yet.
There’s something so delicate about your fragility.
He supposes he’ll allow himself to keep you for longer. As a treat.
Tamsy hums, pleased.
“What’s ‘at?” you ask. Your vision has gone bleary and your eyes redden with every blink. The limit is hitting. The high is definitely wearing off.
“Nothing,” he deflects quickly. Then, he presses a palm to the stair where your head rests. “Let’s go. I’ll take you back.”
“How nice,” you murmur. “My own chaperone.” You tap your lips. “Can I get a kiss?”
Tamsy grins. “You’re drunk.”
“A little.”
As a treat—and more importantly, to keep you silent, he tilts your head to the side and presses his lips to your cheek.
He lingers.
He lingers long enough for even you to squirm beneath him with a laugh bubbling from your throat.
Truly, he has to stay.
Beneath the smoke, that same raspberry scent remains. Maybe it’s him rubbing off on you. Maybe you use the same products. He hopes it’s both. He hopes the longer he presses his skin to yours it’ll tattoo itself and stain beneath the layers of flesh, to muscle, to bone, to soul.
It’s a twisted feeling pooling horribly in the stomach like ash in his lungs that clog every pore and pathway. He stops his hand from trembling around your skin. This is porcelain he's holding, and he must handle it with care. A fragile being, a mosaic of glass and crystal, all spun on the distaff and the accompanying spindle in his pocket.
All his to destroy.
And he will, slowly. He’ll witness the strings of your veins unfurl until you’re woven so tightly to his bones you’ll be unable to decipher his from yours.
He can turn you into a puppet of sinew and love, vengeance and fuelled desperation, like a flame to gasoline. He can do whatever you’d like. He’ll contort you to his very soul.
For now though, he’ll accept a light pat on the cheek when he pulls away.
So I have a Gachiakuta request for you, could you please write reader who’s Rudo’s bio mom? Like Rudo being hated for being a son of a murderer, reader gets hated for being the wife of a murderer. But instead of showing her anger like Rudo does, she just fake smiles, which I think would be interesting cuz Rudo doesn’t know how to smile properly while his mom does but always hiding sadness behind it (which Rudo and Regto knew). Can you do this please?
The big Sin
N/A: GUYS, I'm still alive. I'm feeling better since I got sick and I'm finally getting back to writing. Also, credits to the header used here to whoever it belongs to!! I'm actually not sure if this should be with a mom!reader being thrown to Terra as well or keeping it before that. I decided to do this last one of mom!reader being thrown.
cw: mention of murder, harassment, violence, angst
You hadn't expected anything of what your husband did. You didn't expect him to be accused of murder, and the second most horrible day of your life was watching him being thrown into the abyss while people rejoiced that your husband had been thrown. Your son was still so small when that happened and suddenly you found yourself in the situation of being a single mother. With the stigma of being the wife of an alleged murderer, things became much more complicated, but fortunately you met Regto, who was a decent man and became a great support for you and a father to your son.
Over time, you had become accustomed to smiling and enduring every time someone insulted you or murmured too loudly about you. On several occasions, women had slapped you, saying that you should have paid for your husband's sins and that you shouldn't be there. Despite all that, you just smiled and left in silence.
When your son began to show his violent tendencies, you had to become much more submissive. You lowered your head and apologized, gave apologetic gifts, and anything else you could do. You tried hard to keep the difficulties away from Rudo. You thought you could give Rudo a decent life despite everything and that things would be alright as long as they were together, but things exploded at the worst moment.
There had been a series of robberies in the wealthy area, and many victims had given vague descriptions of the assailant. No one had paid much attention until one of those robberies ended in an assault that left a woman seriously injured. Suddenly the descriptions had become more solid, and it turned out it was a woman who looked like you. People quickly assumed it was you.
"Of course it's her. She's the wife of a murderer, it's not surprising that she's a delinquent too."
"Your son is so violent but there's nothing else that child can be, having parents like that."
"Those bastards from the tribe never learn"
All kinds of comments were heard, and none of them were good. You had spent all that time smiling, apologizing, and bowing your head to try to prove that you and your son were innocent and would never commit any crime. They didn't even have a solid basis to claim you were the assailant, but they definitely wouldn't listen. They had spent too much time looking for an excuse to punish you for a crime they believed you also had to pay for.
And even so, you couldn't give up so easily. How could they fire you when you had a little one waiting at home. You couldn't allow them to fire you but you could only beg.
"Please! I can't leave my son alone! I didn't commit all those crimes, you have to believe me"- You pleaded again and again but it seemed they weren't going to back down. They saw a guilty person and didn't plan to be lenient. Even so, they threw you without further ado. As you fell, the only thing you could think about was Rudo and how guilty you felt for leaving him. You thought about how confused he would be when he saw that you weren't coming home, and that broke your heart.
When you opened your eyes, you found yourself in a place full of mountains of garbage and a horrible stench. Your logic told you that this place was not exactly safe and that breathing that nauseating air was not good, so you took a cloth you had and tied it on to avoid breathing that air as much as possible.
"Where am I supposed to be?" - You looked around everywhere but saw nothing but trash around you. Still, you were desperate to return, so you started walking even if you didn't have a clear direction.
You were walking for a long time and saw no end to the mountains of garbage. You didn't see anything that looked like a city either, nor was there anyone who could help you, but you continued walking anyway. After another long time walking, you managed to faintly see a tall figure, so you quickened your pace. Something in you told you it could be dangerous, but at that point, nothing mattered anymore. You would do anything to get back to your son.
The figure quickly noticed you and approached. You noticed he was wearing a mask to be in that area without breathing the air. As you got closer, you noticed a tall man with dark skin and thick black hair tied in a high ponytail. He was also wearing a strange uniform with an emblem that you couldn't decipher what it was.
"Miss, what are you doing here? It's a dangerous area" the man said as he helped you balance yourself, as you seemed exhausted after walking so much.
"Yo! I fell here! I have to get back to my son" - You explained quickly, and it was obvious you were desperate. The man was struck by the fact that you specifically said you had fallen, but he figured he could talk about it later. He explained that they were in a dangerous area and that they had to get out of there. He also introduced himself as the boss of the cleaners and told you his name was Corvus. He took you to an old building and from there to his office, where he offered you clean clothes and something to drink and eat. He gave you a moment to calm down and explain the situation.
You explained to him where you came from and how you had gotten there. You told him that you have a son named Rudo and that you had to go back to him. Corvus listened to you attentively and then explained to you where you were, the things about Terra and the Sphere that you needed to know at that moment. He also explained the work of the cleaners.
"But..."
"Miss, I'm sorry to tell you that I don't know how to get back up."
You felt an unpleasant tightness in your chest when you heard that he didn't know how to help you, but you couldn't get angry with him because after all he had helped you in that dangerous area.
"I understand, I appreciate it..."
Even so, Corvus didn't feel happy leaving you adrift. He thought it was cruel for a mother to be separated so unpleasantly from her child.
"Even so, I ask that you allow me to help you"
He knelt in front of you and extended his hand.
"I would like you to be reunited with your son."
You jumped and froze for a few seconds. It's been years since anyone offered you help or spoke to you so kindly besides Regto. Your eyes filled with tears and you accepted his hand while lowering your head and sobbing.
"I appreciate it a lot..." - Now you felt a little more hopeful of being able to see your son again
i like to imagine Wanderer always carry her like a sack of potatoes when making an escape like "No. We are not doing this." no matter how badly he wanna stomp the enemies into the ground, to turn them into the pathetic worms they are
dededos
blakekathryn
stormborns
pixelskylines
turnnoffyourmind
annaxmalina
germansingergirl
