🎄I hope you have had a wonderful Christmas (if you celebrate it, if not a good vacation💗)🎄. I have never requested anything before so I apologise if this is done incorrectly. Is it okay to ask for a ‘crush—> dating—>marriage’ for Gris?
I’m big fan how you characterise him and loved that format you did for Goka. Again thank you for your writing, you are immensely talented. I hope you have wonderful rest of your week! 💗💝💗💝
who said big boys aren't lover boys? - gris rubion
crushing → dating → married
CRUSHING! GRIS- gris had seen you around before.
you were always in the background of the cleaners’ base, moving in and out of the med area, quiet, focused, with your hands always busy. he knew you were a supporter and also a nurse (or pick your personality). he knew you worked with the cleaners. but he never spoke to you. never had a reason to.
until the mission.
the trash beast was bigger than expected, its body warped and violent, trash and metal fused together as it thrashed wildly. gris fought hard, too hard, pushing himself past his limit. adrenaline took over, vision blurring, movements becoming reckless.
that’s when it happened.
a sharp strike. pain tearing across his side. he staggered back, breathing heavy, blood soaking through his clothes. the beast was still alive, still raging, but gris could feel himself slipping.
then you were there.
“sit down,” you said, voice firm but gentle, hands already guiding him behind cover.
“…it’s not safe,” gris muttered, teeth clenched.
“i know,” you replied, already tearing bandages open. “but you’re bleeding.”
your hands were steady as you pressed cloth to the wound, fingers warm, careful, not afraid of the blood or his size. he stiffened when you touched him, not from pain—but from the closeness.
“…hold still,” you murmured.
he swallowed. “…you’re calm.”
“i have to be,” you said softly. “this might sting.”
he hissed slightly as you worked, but you stayed focused, murmuring small reassurances without even realizing it. around you, the sounds of battle continued, until finally—silence. the cleaners destroyed the trash beast moments later.
but gris barely noticed.
all he could focus on was you.
“…you didn’t panic,” he said quietly.
you glanced up at him. “neither did you.”
for the first time, he really looked at you. your face smudged with dirt, eyes tired but kind, hands still pressing gently against his side like you were anchoring him to the ground.
“…thank you,” he said, voice lower than usual.
you nodded. “you’ll be okay. just don’t push yourself like that again.”
he almost smiled.
from that moment on, gris found himself thinking about you more than he should—the way your hands felt steady against his skin, the calm in your voice, the way you stayed even when things were dangerous.
and every time he passed the med room after that, his eyes always searched for you first.
CRUSHING! GRIS- it’s your day off, but you’re still in the med room, the lights low and calm, the quiet wrapping around you like a blanket. the smell of clean cloth and medicine fills the air as you slowly move from shelf to shelf, organizing supplies, checking expiration dates, making sure everything is neat and ready. you don’t rush.
you take your time, because knowing everything is in order makes your chest feel lighter.
you’re adjusting a box of bandages when you hear a voice behind you.
“you’re not scheduled today.”
you turn slowly and see gris standing in the doorway, tall and broad, his presence filling the room without him even trying. his armor is off, coat loose around his shoulders, and he looks more relaxed than you’re used to seeing him.
“i know,” you say softly. “i just wanted to help.”
he watches you for a moment, eyes following the careful way your hands move, the patience in every small action. “…you still come in,” he says quietly. “…even on your day off.”
you give a small shrug, placing the box back where it belongs. “i like knowing everyone will be okay.”
he steps inside and closes the door gently behind him. the sound is soft, but it makes the room feel smaller, more private. he stands there for a second, like he’s choosing his words carefully.
“…about that mission,” he begins, voice low, steady. “…i never thanked you properly.”
you pause, turning toward him. “you don’t have to.”
“…i do,” he says, firm but calm. “i lost control that day. if you hadn’t stepped in… i don’t know what would’ve happened.”
you remember it clearly—his blood, the chaos, the way he looked so determined even while injured. “i’m just glad you’re alive,” you reply gently.
his jaw tightens slightly, eyes softening. “…you stayed calm. your hands didn’t shake. you looked at me like i wasn’t about to break.”
you feel a warmth rise in your chest. “that’s because you weren’t.”
there’s a quiet pause between you, filled with unspoken thoughts.
“…your kindness,” gris continues after a moment, “…it meant more than you realize. most people see strength as fists and weapons. you showed it differently.”
your fingers curl slightly at your side. “thank you. that… means a lot.”
he nods, a small, genuine smile touching his lips. it’s not something he shows often. “…i hope i didn’t interrupt your work.”
“you didn’t,” you say, smiling back. “you’re always welcome here.”
he hesitates, then takes a step back toward the door. before leaving, he glances at you one last time.
“…i’m glad it was you,” he says quietly. “…that day.”
CRUSHING! GRIS- the mission is loud, and dangerous, trash piled high and twisted metal scraping underfoot as you move carefully behind the other cleaners. the air smells sharp, polluted, heavy. you keep your focus forward, hands ready in case anyone gets hurt.
gris never lets you walk alone.
he stays just behind you at first, close enough that you can feel his presence without turning around. every time debris shifts or a sound echoes too close, he adjusts his position, broad frame subtly blocking your blind side.
“…stay close,” he murmurs quietly, not commanding, just protective.
you nod, matching his pace.
when the path narrows, he moves to your side instead, shoulder nearly brushing yours as he scans ahead. his eyes never stop moving, sharp and alert, always checking corners before you reach them.
when something falls from above, he reacts instantly, arm lifting to shield you without even thinking.
“i’ve got you,” he says under his breath.
the fight breaks out fast. trash beasts surge from the rubble, and chaos erupts. you crouch beside an injured cleaner, hands glowing faintly as you work.
through it all, gris positions himself near you, striking anything that comes too close, never letting his back face away from you for long.
at one point, a beast lunges toward your direction.
gris steps in front of you immediately.
“don’t move,” he growls, voice firm.
he takes it down fast, efficient, then turns back to you, eyes checking you over before anything else. “…you okay?”
“yeah,” you say softly. “thanks.”
he nods once, already turning back to guard duty, but he stays close until the last threat is gone.
when the mission finally ends and the area is cleared, the noise fades into silence. you straighten, tired but relieved, wiping your hands clean. gris approaches you slowly now, posture less tense, shoulders finally lowering.
“…you did well,” he says.
you look up at him, surprised. “i just did my part.”
his lips curve into a small, rare smile—soft, genuine, nothing like the hardened look he wears in battle. “…that’s what makes it impressive,” he replies quietly.
for a moment, the ruined world around you fades away.
and as you walk back together, you notice he still stays just a little closer than necessary, making sure you’re safe—even when the danger is already gone.
CRUSHING GRIS- months pass, and the feeling never left gris.
it settles deep in his chest, heavy and quiet, growing stronger every time he sees you moving around the med room with calm focus, every time you look up and offer him that soft smile like the world isn’t broken outside.
he tells himself he’s fine, that he doesn’t need to act on it, that it’s safer to stay silent.
but silence starts to hurt.
one evening, after a long patrol, gris finds rudo in a quiet corridor, the lights dim and the air still. rudo is cleaning his gloves, humming to himself, when gris stops in front of him. he doesn’t speak right away, jaw tight, eyes fixed on nothing.
“…i need help,” gris finally says, voice low and careful.
rudo looks up, surprised. “from you?”
gris exhales slowly. “…go talk to her. the giver.”
rudo’s expression shifts instantly, interest lighting in his eyes. “you want me to talk to her?”
“…ask her what she likes,” gris continues, words stiff, uncomfortable. “where she likes to go. what she drinks. don’t tell her why.”
rudo studies him for a moment, then smiles knowingly. “you’re serious about her.”
gris doesn’t deny it. “…just do it.”
later that day, you’re alone in the med room, reorganizing shelves and counting supplies. the space is quiet, peaceful, a small break from the noise of the ground. when rudo walks in, you glance up, surprised but not alarmed.
“hey,” he says casually, leaning against the doorway. “mind if i ask you something?”
you tilt your head. “sure.”
he asks slowly, like it’s nothing important. what drinks you like. whether you prefer quiet places or busy ones. what kind of food makes you feel comfortable after a long day.
you answer honestly, not thinking much of it, just glad someone is making conversation.
when he leaves, you don’t see the small grin on his face.
when rudo tells gris everything, gris listens in complete silence. he doesn’t interrupt. he memorizes every detail like it’s information. his chest feels tight, but this time it isn’t fear—it’s hope.
the next day, gris stands outside the med room longer than he should. he watches you through the doorway for a moment, steadying himself. then he steps inside.
the sound of his boots makes you look up. “gris? are you hurt?”
“…no,” he says quickly. “i just—”
he stops, struggling, then reaches out and places a warm drink on the counter. it’s exactly how you like it.
“…rudo told me,” he admits, eyes lowering slightly. “about what you like.”
you blink, surprised, then smile softly. “he did?”
gris nods once. “…i’m not good at this. but i wanted to try.”
there’s a pause, quiet and full.
“…would you go out with me?” he asks, voice steady but low. “somewhere quiet. just us.”
your answer comes without hesitation. “…i’d like that.”
for the first time in months, the weight in gris’s chest lifts. his shoulders relax, just a little, and his expression softens into something rare and gentle.
“…thank you,” he murmurs.
as he leaves, he passes rudo in the hall. rudo grins, giving him a thumbs up.
gris doesn’t respond—but the faint smile on his face tells rudo everything.
and for the first time, the feeling doesn’t hurt anymore.
DATING! GRIS- you can feel it building all day.
your head aches, your hands feel tired, and every sound in the med room feels just a little too loud. injured cleaners keep coming in, supplies keep running low, and you don’t even realize how tense you look until gris steps inside and stops short.
he doesn’t say anything at first.
he watches the way your shoulders are pulled tight, the way you rub your wrist when you think no one notices. something in his chest twists.
“…you’re stressed,” he says quietly.
you blink, looking up at him. “i’m fine.”
he doesn’t argue. he just steps closer, lowering his voice. “…you don’t look fine.”
there’s a pause. then he gently takes the clipboard from your hands and sets it down. his touch is careful, like he’s afraid of pushing too far.
“…come with me,” he says.
you hesitate. “gris, i still have—”
“…i’ll make sure everything is covered,” he interrupts softly. “just for a bit.”
outside, the air feels cooler, cleaner than the med room. he leads you somewhere quiet, away from patrol routes and noise. broken buildings surround the area, but the sky above is wide and calm, clouds drifting slowly like they don’t care about anything else.
you sit together on a low wall, close but not crowded.
“…you don’t have to carry everything alone,” gris says after a while. his voice is low, steady, grounding. “you help everyone. let someone help you too.”
you breathe out slowly, shoulders finally relaxing.
“…thank you,” you whisper.
he glances at you, just briefly, and offers a small, reassuring smile. “…that’s why i brought you here.”
you stay there longer than planned, watching the sky, talking about nothing important, letting the stress slowly fade.
and when you finally head back, gris walks beside you the entire way, matching your pace, making sure the heaviness doesn’t follow you back inside.
DATING! GRIS- the mission was brutal.
everything hurts, not just your body but your mind too. the images won’t leave, the sounds replaying over and over as you finish cleaning your tools in silence. by the time you return home, your steps are slow, shoulders heavy, exhaustion clinging to you like dust.
when you open the door, the smell hits you first.
warm. familiar. comforting.
you pause, confused, before stepping inside. the lights are dim, soft, and the table is already set. it’s simple, nothing fancy, but it’s clearly thought out. your favorite foods, warm and fresh, steam still rising.
“gris…?” you call quietly.
he steps out from the small kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy, expression serious like always—but there’s nervousness in his eyes.
“…sit,” he says. “you don’t need to do anything.”
you stare at him for a moment. “you made all this?”
he nods once. “…i thought you might need something normal. something quiet.”
you sit, hands resting in your lap, still processing. he places a plate in front of you carefully, like it matters more than anything else.
“…you did good today,” he adds, voice low. “even if it didn’t feel like it.”
your chest tightens. “…thank you.”
he sits across from you but stays close, watching to make sure you eat, making sure you’re really there. when you finally relax, when the tension leaves your shoulders, he lets out a slow breath too.
later, when the dishes are done, he doesn’t rush away. he stays beside you, quiet and steady, his presence warm and grounding.
and for the first time since the mission, you feel safe enough to rest.
DATING! GRIS- the moment gris realizes something is wrong, it’s the silence.
you’re curled up on the couch, blanket pulled tight around you, face turned away, breathing slow but heavy.
you didn’t come to the med room that morning, and that alone was enough for him to take the day off without asking questions.
he comes home with bags in his hands.
inside them is everything you mentioned wanting—salty snacks, sweet snacks, chocolate, your favorite ice cream, even the exact drink you like when you feel miserable. he places them carefully on the table like offerings.
“…i didn’t know what to get,” he admits quietly. “so i got everything.”
you peek out from the blanket. “…you didn’t have to do all this.”
“…i wanted to.”
he sits beside you, awkward at first, clearly unsure what the right move is. earlier, in complete secrecy, he stood in a corner with his phone, searching
“how to make your girlfriend not mad at you” and “what to do when your girlfriend is on her period.”
the advice was confusing, alarming, and unhelpful—but he took notes anyway.
he gently hands you the ice cream. “…this said it helps.”
you snort softly despite yourself. “you googled it, didn’t you?”
he stiffens. “…maybe.”
you laugh, quiet and tired, but real. and that alone makes the whole day worth it to him.
later, he lets you lean against his chest, his large frame warm and steady behind you. he doesn’t say much, just stays there, hand resting carefully on your back, rubbing slow circles like he read he should.
“…tell me if i’m doing something wrong,” he murmurs.
you sigh, relaxed now. “…you’re doing everything right.”
and even though the day is uncomfortable and messy and emotional, you fall asleep smiling—because he stayed.
MARRIED! GRIS- it’s a rare day off for both of you.
the sun is shining softly through the windows, and the apartment is filled with quiet laughter and the faint smell of coffee.
you’re both sitting at the table with a stack of freshly printed wedding photos between you, the glossy paper warm under your fingers.
“…look at this one,” you say, holding up a photo of the two of you laughing during the ceremony. “you were so stiff here.”
gris glances at it, expression serious as always, but his eyes soften the moment they meet yours. “…i was focused,” he mutters, voice low. “…taking in every detail.”
you giggle, nudging him gently.
“well, you succeeded. you looked amazing… but i mean, so did i.”
he turns the photo over in his hands slowly, eyes tracing every line, every shadow. and then… it happens.
he swallows hard, throat tight. “…i—” his voice cracks, and suddenly he’s blinking rapidly, hands shaking slightly as tears spill down his face.
you freeze. “…gris?”
he buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. “…i can’t stop… looking at you,” he chokes out.
“you’re… so beautiful… every day… every moment… even now…”
you can’t help but laugh softly, sitting beside him and letting him lean against you. “…i know,” you murmur, rubbing his back. “i see it every day too.”
he lifts his head slightly, wiping his tears roughly, embarrassed but still unable to stop staring at you. “…i’m… crying… but i can’t help it…”
you take his hand in yours, thumb brushing over the knuckles. “…it’s okay,” you whisper. “…you can admire me all you want.”
he nods, voice muffled against your shoulder.
“…i just… love you too much.”
the rest of the afternoon is spent laughing, crying, and flipping through the photos together.
every picture is a memory, every memory a reminder of how far you’ve come.
and gris…well, he continues to cry quietly, ugly and messy, because he can’t stop seeing you and realizing just how lucky he is.
you rest your head against his shoulder, smiling softly, and he holds you just a little tighter, because this—this moment—is perfect.
MARRIED! GRIS- the sun is just beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange over the quiet beach. you’re walking hand in hand with gris, sand warm under your feet, waves gently lapping at the shore.
the world feels peaceful—far from missions, far from chaos, just the two of you.
gris doesn’t say much, of course, but his hand is firm around yours, protective in the way only he can be. every so often, he glances down at you, eyes softening, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“…did you see that?” you ask, pointing at a crab scuttling near the water.
gris tilts his head, watching quietly. “…i did,” he replies simply. “…don’t fall over it.”
you laugh, bumping your shoulder lightly against his. “…you’re no fun.”
“…i’m practical,” he says, expression serious. but the slight twitch of his mouth betrays amusement.
later, you both sit on a large blanket near the dunes, sharing a small picnic he insisted on packing himself. sandwiches, fruit, even a little chocolate—gris remembered exactly what you liked. you bite into a piece of fruit, smiling at him. “…you remembered.”
he shrugs, trying to hide it. “…of course. it’s… important.”
the two of you stay there for a while, talking quietly about nothing at all, the waves providing a steady rhythm behind your words. when the sun dips lower, he pulls you closer, arms around your shoulders, holding you steady.
“…i could stay like this forever,” you murmur.
gris glances at you, jaw tight but eyes soft. “…me too.”
he leans his forehead against yours, a rare gentle gesture, and you laugh softly at the closeness. “…you’re so stiff,” you tease.
“…i’m comfortable,” he mutters. “…like this.”
you squeeze his hands, smiling. “…me too.”
and there, under the painted sky, toes in the sand, you both simply exist—together, quiet, happy, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence. a honeymoon moment that’s yours alone, and one neither of you will ever forget.
MARRIED! GRIS- two years later, the apartment is alive with tiny giggles and the pitter-patter of small feet.
your baby girl with golden hair bouncing, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. she’s a perfect mix—blonde like gris, strong and determined like him, but with your fiery attitude.
she refuses to let anything get in her way, from climbing onto the couch to grabbing a toy from across the room.
gris sits nearby, posture upright as always, but his eyes are soft, following her every move. when she stumbles slightly, he’s there instantly, big hands ready to catch her—but she barely needs it.
“…i’m fine!” she protests, little fists on her hips, glaring like a tiny general.
you kneel down, laughing softly. “…she definitely gets her stubbornness from you,” you say, ruffling her hair gently.
she glares at you for a moment before breaking into a wide grin, reaching her tiny arms toward gris. he picks her up carefully, holding her on his lap, and she wraps her legs around him while pointing at a toy across the room.
“…get it!” she demands.
gris grunts, clearly trying to keep a serious face, but he moves it closer for her.
“…don’t push me,” he mutters, low and stern—but there’s a smile in his eyes.
you watch them, heart swelling.
“…look at you two,” you whisper, reaching over to brush her cheek. she squeals happily and leans against both of you, wrapping her small arms around your neck in a tug-of-war hug.
later, gris sits cross-legged on the floor, her tiny hands in his, teaching her how to stack blocks. she giggles uncontrollably every time a block falls.
“…again!” she shouts, bright and fierce, and he patiently rebuilds it, letting her knock it down each time.
finally, she collapses against him, tired but triumphant, golden hair messy, cheeks pink, eyes sparkling. gris wraps his large arms around both of you, holding you close.
“…you’re strong,” he murmurs softly. “…just like both of us.”
you rest your head against his shoulder, smiling down at your little girl. she yawns and snuggles closer, tugging at both of you. the apartment is quiet now except for tiny snores and soft, steady breaths.
and in that moment, it’s perfect. full of love—the little family you’ve built together that was completely yours.
「©valentinesxoxo˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ 」
