In which gachiakuta boys fell for your baking skills and you.
Very fluffly, gn!reader, no use of she, he or they, reader bakes goods || Thank you for the request dear<33
you bake late at night, when the base is quiet and your thoughts won’t slow down. tamsy always “just happens” to be awake too, lingering nearby like he’s not waiting for you.
you wordlessly slide a small pastry toward him. he doesn’t say thank you—just gives you that soft look, the one that means more than words, the one that makes the cruel world feel gentle, he eats slowly, savoring it, then carefully wraps the rest—because why won't he? a treat from ya is divine.
“for later,” he murmurs.
later always means when things get bad, when missions go wrong, when he needs something warm to remind him you exist.
enjin is loud about it.
“YO?? YOU MADE THIS??”
he takes one bite and immediately declares it the best thing he’s ever eaten—while dramatically slapping the poor table—which is objectively untrue but very on brand, he tells everyone, oh boy, he brags! he asks what you put in it like you used magic.
you tell him it’s just sugar and patience.
he grins. “yeah, sounds like you.”
somehow, he always makes sure you get first pick of supplies after that, while hugging you—more like cuddling you while standing.
zanka pretends he's chill about it, which to be honest his is not.
you leave something wrapped neatly on his workbench without saying a word. later, when you pass by, it’s gone, vanished.
hours after that, you find him hovering awkwardly near you. “uh. the cookie you made?”
you nod.
“…make it again sometime.” while blushing like he’s suffering from a fever.
he's awkward, but trust me he's trying!
corvus watches more than he speaks.
he notices how you always cut even pieces so everyone gets a fair share, how you taste-test first so no one else has to risk it, how you smile when people enjoy what you made, aw how are you so cute?
one day, he quietly watches you bake, next to you, eyes full of admiration.
you bake carefully.
when you hand him the finished product, his voice is low. “you didn’t have to.”
you shrug. “i wanted to.”
he keeps the moment deep inside his heart.
zodyl claims food is fuel and nothing more.
still, he always eats what you make. always finishes it. always asks—very curtly—if there’s more.
one time, you skip baking for a few days. he notices immediately.
“…you alright?” he asks, stiff, unsure.
you blink, surprised.
he looks away. “just asking.”
the next day, you bake again. he doesn’t say anything—but his shoulders relax.
follo never asks, you just notice the way he slows down near the kitchen, pretending to check something else, eyes flicking toward whatever you’re making. when you quietly hold out a small piece, he startles like he’s been caught.
“f-for me?” he asks, soft.
you nod.
he takes it with both hands, like it might break, and thanks you three times before even tasting it. when he does, his eyes widen, and a shy little smile slips out before he can stop it.
later, you find a neatly folded note left near your things.
it was really good. thank you :)
you smile the rest of the day.
Hope you liked it.LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!
Don't steal,copy,edit or use my works in any form without my permission.
Warnings: Slightly suggestive, but only in some parts; mainly fluff!
SUMMARY: after a long day of missions, Follo comes into your room just so he can do his favorite thing — lying between your thighs.
—————————————————————————
You were sitting up in bed with a book resting on your exposed thighs. You knew Follo would be coming to visit you soon, you just werent exactly sure when.
As you continued reading, you heard two gentle knocks.
Already aware of who it is, you close the book and quickly get up to go and open the door.
“Follo!”
You pull him into a hug, and he smiles softly before placing a gentle kiss to your lips.
“Mm... Today’s mission was a pain. Just wanna stay with you for the rest of the night..." Follo pulls away and looks down at you, his gaze soft and loving.
Right after he finished that sentence, you grabbed his hand and dragged him to bed excitedly.
“I missed you the whole time you were gone.. I’m glad you’re back.” Your voice is both sweet and soft as you speak. If it was possible, he’d be having hearts for eyes right now.
When the two of you are finally in bed, you try to start a conversation, but before you can say anything, he’s already snuck under the covers, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze as if to make sure he isn't dreaming, then face-plants between them.
“I'm guessing you're just gonna.. Stay under there..?”
“Mhm..” Is all you hear from Follo before it goes quiet again. You blink once, twice, and then reopen your book to continue reading.
You place the book on top of his head, making him groan.
“Ouch!”
“I didn't even place it down that hard!”
You flip the covers over, revealing Follo’s head placed snugly between your thighs. He brings his head up just enough to make eye contact with you, his eyes droopy and on the verge of falling asleep.
“Follo—” You barely even begin your sentence before he's already face-first between your thighs again. You roll your eyes and shut your book, running your hand through his hair.
A couple of minutes pass, and you hear a soft snore from him. You gently pull him up and place his head against the pillow. Finally, you fall asleep as well.
(The next morning when you woke up, you somehow found him snuggled between your thighs once again, blissfully asleep)
𐔌 ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻) ࣪ ˖ REAL MAN ⸝⸝ ✿ ( follo x fem!reader ) ◟ さん ━ ꒰ fluff, unlabeled relationship ꒱ 注記 : reader wears boots and a hair clip
You’re a strong girl.
That’s what Follo thinks.
You’ve always handled everything on your own. He’s seen it.
You fight like it’s second nature — trash beasts fall before you like it’s a hobby. You finish every stack of paperwork Semiu or the boss throws at you without a single complaint. You may be shy, but you never let anyone talk down to you. Even when fear creeps in about what the future might hold, you still keep moving forward with that brave little smile.
You’re so adorable.
That’s what he thinks.
The cute little pout he adores so much appears whenever you finish one mission only to be assigned with another — he had to bite back a smile for it. You squeal in delight every time the food you’re craving makes its way to your tastebuds. It’s adorable how you get so shy when someone compliments you for your hard work; he could watch it all day.
You don’t need anyone.
He knows that.
And yet — despite every thought reminding him how capable you are, his actions speak the opposite.
He opens doors before you can touch the handle.
He pulls out your chair at breakfast without even asking.
He hands you your favorite drink before you can reach for it, already chilled, already opened.
Once, you tried to carry a crate of supplies across HQ, insisting you had it handled. He silently lifted it from your arms with one hand and walked away like it weighed nothing.
You chased after him, flustered. “Follo, I can do it—”
“I know but..” he said, not looking back. “let me do it for you.”
You never know what to do with yourself when he says things like that.
The moment that really broke you, however, happened when you were assigned to assist his team on a task in another town. Hours of walking, scouting, navigating uneven roads — your feet were killing you. You tried not to show it, but the unevenness in your steps gave you away. A faint limp. A wince when you thought no one was looking.
Follo noticed.
Of course he did.
You were halfway through assuring yourself you could endure when a hand wrapped firmly around your wrist.
“Hey—”
He didn’t say a word. Just tugged you gently but undeniably toward a nearby bench. You frowned, confused, as he sat down and patted his thigh.
You blinked. “…What?”
“Sit,” he said flatly.
A moment of silence.
WHAT.
Stunned, you looked left and right to make sure the others weren’t nearby witnessing this. Thank goodness they were not on sight.
Your cheeks burned. “On you?”
He gave you a look that clearly said do I need to say it again?
Too shocked to process what was happening in front of you, you tried to distract yourself from reality for a short minute. Oh, look at that cloud! It’s shaped like a bunny!
You sputtered. “Follo, I’m fine—”
“No, you’re not,” he said, voice calm as ever. His eyes softened. “I can see you struggling to walk properly.”
Your heartbeat went ballistic.
Checking again if the others were nearby, you cautiously took a step forward.
Slowly and awkwardly, you sat sideways across his lap, stiff and unsure of where to put your hands. He adjusted his hold automatically — one arm around your waist like it was the most natural thing in the world — the other reaching down to tug off your boot.
“H-Hey—!”
“Relax.”
He inspected your socked foot with silent precision before pressing his thumb into your arch. You nearly squeaked.
He paused, glancing up at you. “Too much?”
“N-No,” you squeaked.
He hummed, pleased and continued massaging, firm strokes that melted tension you hadn’t even realized you’d been carrying.
Your face was on fire. Your hands curled into his broad shoulders.
“Follo…” you whispered, heart racing. “You don’t have to do all this.”
He didn’t stop.
“Yeah, I know, but…” A pause. His right hand kept massaging your foot, the other still holding your waist, his thumb drawing circles against the fabric of your uniform for comfort, making your heart run laps in your chest.
Then he looked straight into your eyes, voice unwavering. “I want to.”
It wasn’t long before the others took notice of his behavior toward you.
They took the opportunity to tease him about it at lunch.
“Real gentleman, huh?” Enjin mocked. “What are you, her bodyguard?”
“Bodyguard?” Gris snorted, nudging him. “More like househusband.”
Even Rudo chimed in from his chair across the table. “You gonna start wearing an apron too?”
Zanka threw his arms over his head dramatically. “Follo, blink twice if she’s got you in a spell.”
Follo just shrugged and drank from his cup, unfazed.
“Call it whatever you want.”
Because honestly? He likes it.
He likes being the one who carries your bags even when you insist you can handle them. He likes being the one who reaches the high shelves for you, even though he’s seen you jump five meters in the air before. He likes watching you pretend to be annoyed when he fixes your uniform or straightens your hair clip.
You let him take care of you.
Even though you don’t have to.
And that — that makes his chest warm in a way that fighting never has.
He’s not sure what this is between you two. Friends? Partners Something unnamed, something fragile but precious?
But he knows one thing for sure:
If being a “real man” means treating you like the princess you are..
— Then he’ll do it every damn day, without shame.
Without hesitation.
Without stopping until you finally look at him and realize.
He’s not doing it because you’re weak.
He’s doing it because he adores you.
著者 : Follo and the boys once he finally wins the fine shyt’s heart:
@ 2025 PETALPAYE ✿ ━ do not plagiarize, copy, modify, translate my works ! divider by : @h-aewo
follo swore up and down you had no idea what you did to him. the way you walked into a room made his whole chest tighten. he tried to act normal, he really did, but his fingers betrayed him, twitching against his knees or fumbling with whatever was in his hands. and when you smiled in his direction, even if it wasn’t meant for him, his brain just went blank.
gris caught him again. follo had been staring too long, eyes fixed on you like he was hypnotized. gris leaned over, voice low and steady.
“why don’t you talk to her.”
follo jolted, nearly dropping the small object he was pretending to be busy with. “i—no, i can’t.”
“you’re not going to get anywhere just sitting there,” gris offered.
follo’s throat went dry. he wanted to say he would talk to you, eventually. but his head filled with excuses before the words could even form. you were too… too good for him. he wasn’t sure what he could offer you except nervous stammering and a bright red face.
so he shook his head. “she… uh, she wouldn’t wanna talk to me.”
gris only raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push further. letting follo sit there with his thoughts.
and follo’s thoughts always ended up the same. they followed him through the day, through dinner, through every quiet moment until night came. and when he was alone, lying under the covers, he let himself think about you freely. the way your voice sounded, how your eyes might look if they met his and didn’t turn away. he pictured conversations that never happened, smiles you never gave him, but ones he wished for anyway.
and at night, when it was finally quiet, he’d lie on his back staring at the ceiling. you were always the last thing on his mind before sleep pulled him under. he thought of your laugh, the way your eyes shined when you smiled, the way just being near you made him feel like his heart was beating loud enough for anyone to hear.
he wanted to talk to you. he wanted it more than anything. but for now, all he could do was think about you, fidget with his sleeves, and let gris catch him staring again tomorrow.
NOTE: lil something for the cutest boy! We need more Follo appreciation, sure he doesn’t get social cues but at least he’s cute??
“Boo”
The sudden voice in his ear spoke, the abrupt words paired with the slight release of air spooked Follo from where he was sitting in the mess hall.
He was just planning on getting a quick bite to eat, training all day with his new vital instrument Alan really did a number on his body.
Especially after the stunt he pulled in Kremmos Village.
And Gris wasn’t going easy on him either, something about ‘treating ya like a real giver!’ Whatever that meant.
Follo turned his head around quick, his eyes meeting a pair of familiar ones.
“Ah—! Welcome back! I didn’t know you got back so soon.” He rubbed his neck, the heat already clinging to his cheeks.
“Follo~ you didn’t tell me you’re a giver now! All cool with your new vital instrument.” You teased him, stroking his hammer that was left on the table.
He tilted his head down, wanting to face you. “C’mon I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m still new to all this so you might have to give me a couple tips.”
You laugh and really gave him a stare down.
His hair was different, definitely trimmed. Must’ve been that gnarly scar he has on the side of his head.
The small smile on your face drops slightly, and you give a quiet ‘tsk’.
“Aw your pretty skins all messed up on this side.” You reach up and caress the scarred side of his face. Paying no mind to the warmth of his ears, or the blush creeping onto his equally pretty face.
“Nah don’t worry about it, I asked Eishia to keep it for me. Gonna remind me to stay grounded and not mess up like that again.”
Follo’s voice was steady but you could hear the underlying message.
It must’ve messed him up bad.
You keep on fidgeting with his face and the surrounding hair, tugging lightly or poking the scarred skin gently.
Follo didn’t have the heart to tell you to stop, not when you were doting on him so sweetly like this. He could only stand still and twiddle his fingers while you had your fill.
He needs to stop blushing so much though.
—
Before you could bruise his skin, due to the amount of ‘touchy feely’ you were doing a familiar voice interrupts you.
“Hey your back! Went ahead and found the man of the hour didn’t you?”
You and Follo looked up towards the source of the voice.
“Gris!”
“Gris?”
You both said simultaneously.
“You were supposed to look after each other! Sure Follo awakened as a giver but look at what it did to his handsome face!” You huffed, pulling Follo’s face down to your eye level, your hands cupping his cheeks.
“Calm down it all ended up working in the end right? And besides doesn’t Follo look hella manly with that scar.” Gris chuckled leaning in the table.
“Cmon you guys… you’re being annoying.” Follo said through gritted teeth, cheeks still being pressed together by your soft and warm hands.
“Hmm”
You squint your eyes and pull Follo’s imprisoned face closer to your own, investigating the familiar yet unfamiliar features of his new face.
A smile grows from your lips and you give his nose a quick peck.
“Yeah y’know what you’re right as always Gris, Follo’s still so cute~”
“Knew you’d say that.”
“Sweetie…let go…please.”
Follo tried to gently pry your fingers off his face, he knows you don’t mind PDA but it’s too much for his mind to comprehend right now, especially after he’s been deprived of your soft lips for so long.
He’d rather not get pent up in the middle of the mess haul, and with Gris literally two steps away from him.
“Why don’t you show her that hammer of yours Follo. It’s some pretty cool stuff you got there.” Gris grinned as he took a sip of the drink in his mug.
“Great idea! Follo show me! C’mon!”
You grab his wrist and the hammer from the table and make your way to your room.
It wasn’t far, it’s the closest to the communal rooms anyways.
—
Closing your door and hearing the faint ‘click’ of the lock, you turn to face Follo.
He’s making himself comfortable on the couch in the corner, playing the hammer on his lap.
You smile and make your way towards him, taking the hammer of his lap and replacing it with yourself. Leaning into his warmth and taking the hat he always wore and placing onto your own head.
“I always knew you’d come around.”
He chuckled, “oh yeah? I was about to start giving up to.”
You puffed your cheeks up at him. “That’s not true and you know it.”
When he doesn’t reply back but only stares at you with that all knowing smile of his you let out a dramatic sigh.
Leaning your head onto his chest, you try to melt into him.
“Really worried me y’know. When Semui told me something happened I freaked out so bad.”
Follo’s right arm wrapped around your curled up frame, while his left occupied itself by stroking your hair.
“You were that worried ‘bout me.” It was bad, and he knew that, but he couldn’t help that his ego swelled slightly from your words.
You nodded.
“You’re just the sweetest thing aren’t you?” He said, smiling softly, his face resting on the top of your head.
“C’mon no more moping around, I’ll show you what I went through hell for.” Follo said, with a dopey grin on his face that made you feel so fuzzy.
Hi! I cant remember if i actually sent a request for this or not(bad memory, if i did i promise im not trying to rush 😭)
But follo who has a sensitive neck and a reader who loves kissing him there to fluster him? Or his hair or something. Just something cute and fluffy if thats ok :) thank you so much!!!
Plz ignore if i already did request this 💔💔
꒰୨୧◞ Follo x over affection reader 。⠀.ᐟ
⤷ ty anon for making the most canon thing to ever canon
I imagine you first discovered this when making out or something. not heated or anything, just laid out on his bed as a movie buzz lowly in the background. You rested over his legs, going from deep seizing kisses to pressing light, feathered pecks all over his face and jaw. reveling in the warmth beneath of follo’s body beneath you.
follo exhaled through his nose— nearly a laugh. He swallowed as he tried to stow away all the nerves that moved restlessly in his chest.
“c’mon… now yer’ just teasing me…” he mumbled sheepishly.
“mhm.” you didn’t stop for a second. continuing in your descent with unrivaled levels of focus, going Lower and lower until you met where his adam’s apple bulged the most. This time lingering on it a little longer than usual.
A sharp, high pitched whined emerged from his throat, Small vibrations running their course throughout his body.
You pull back, eyes slightly widening as you fully asses the damage done. Follo’s Head lolled back, his face painted the prettiest of pinks in the shade of embarrassment.
A silence fell over the two of you. You flickered back and forth from his cornered expression to the blistering red mark. Follo shifted In his seat. nerves whirling wildly in his stomach.
“ Hey…don’t just look at me like that….say something.” He urged. the words come out half choked from the air you’d stolen from his lungs.
Slowly, your lips began to twitch. And from the uncontrollable twitching came devilish grin that made his heart race.
you slowly came closer, head playfully cocking to the side. “…what was that?”
Follo’s mouth fumbled for an explanation but nothing came to, And Any idea of a response vanished the moment you began to close the distance once more. A fire light up behind your pupils. An uncontrollable eagerness.
Your hands landed on either side of him, anchoring yourself to the bed as you leaned In, nearly nose to nose. Follo’s breath hitched at the proximity. Damn it. You could feel your heart pick up speed. You swore he got 10x prettier when he was like this, hair all messy, bangs falling over his eyes in clumps, looking completely stupefied. You bit down on your cheek for a moment, taking in the whole scene before—
“Can you do that again?” You blurted out in hush voice, The words spilling without a second thought.
follo’s eyebrows raised. “Wha…?”
Your grin widened, Small sadistic giggles escaping through your bared teeth. Jesus, you couldn’t even fake an ounce of shame. It’s a little tragic, really.
You press on. “well— I guess the question is can I do it again? I mean…. if you don’t mind of course?”
Follo’s body felt like it was on fire. Mind spinning, reeling from the assault you’d committed; Your words barely register in his pretty little head when he nods in agreement.
Within seconds your mouth was back on his pulse, Pressing long languid kisses into follo’s flushed skin. Reveling in the sweet huffs they coaxed.
You were hooked from that moment. But what really sold it was the morning after.
The dinning hall was empty, just you and follo and the sweet sizzle of batter on the stove. Follo’s head was tilted down, watching the pan carefully. The mark still was there. slightly less vibrant than you’d left it but there none the less. Everytime you looked at it the memory of warm skin would come back full force, Reigniting the excitement that lied dormant in your bones.
It was almost like it was taunting you. Egging you on. Begging you to just plant a few more pretty of those pretty pink splotches on his neck.
And hey! To your credit, you tried. Real hard. His forearms bulged as he gripped the pan, the scrunch of his face , the quiet focus in his service. you could only withstand so much!
You rose up, sneaking behind follo’s hunched over figure. your arms wrapped around his waist. Pulling him in close.
He flinched at the contact, nearly dropping the pan. Though he melted as he found your twinkling eye. Follo let out a relieved sigh. A soft smile forming on his face.
“Woah— hey…I’m gonna be done in a second okay?” He reassured, taking his hand off the pan and rubbing slow circles into the back of your hand.
You hum, dipping your head into the crook of his neck. Taking in the warmth of his body, your perfume and his morning scent mixed together deliciously. Slowly, you started peppering kisses again.
Follo let out another muffled, High pitched sound. He cranes his neck to fully see you, follo’s mouth thinned out to a sheepish smile. “Shit—! …Hey I thought that was a one time thing. Y’know, if I didn’t know any better I would think you’re enjoying my suffering…”
You tilted your head, letting out a soft hum against his neck, sending vibrations through his body. “I just wanna appreciate you.”
Follo playfully rolled his eyes, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your temple. “You do more than enough.”
You pull away from his neck, meeting his scrunched up face. “What That mean? you want me to stop?”
Follo’s lips pressed tightly together at your words, slowly looking away as that familiar shade crept up again. You pressed another kiss to his throat. when he didn’t pull away? That sold you.
Much to follo’s displeasure (overwhelming pleasure) a one time thing transformed into something of routine. Anywhere, anytime your lips would find his neck. Like it was their rightful place. I don’t think follo is the biggest on PDA but when you kiss there he can’t help but let you.
It’s typically quick. So quick you could blink and miss it. Sitting down, watching tv? On him. Waiting in line? Leaving marks up and down his neck. Working out? His arms are gonna be your personal chew toy.
his face is always the same too. bright red, nervous smile like the one he had when you first came his way with your bright smile.
Your favorite way to get a reaction out of him? Lipstick. Or really anything that would stain and leave a horrid mark that would stick around for a day or two.
You’d force him to sit on your bed. buzzing with nerves as you skimmed over the line you’d purchased on a drug store. Dilbertly taking your time picking out the perfect one, doing swatches on the inner side of your wrist. Then dragging against your lips. Then littered all over his neck. Pressing various, bright shades against his reddening skin.
He fisted the sheets, trying his absolute hardest to keep his wits as you did so. Throat continuously bobbing up and down up and down, swallowing his own words. Eventually you have to grip his jaw, forcing him perfectly in place.
“Stay still. ” You grumbled lowly. pulling away from the underside of his jaw, admiring the shade of Neapolitan pink on his tanned skin.
“stay still.” Follo scoffed. “you’re doing this to torture me.”
“Nooo…I’m doing this because I need to see which one’s the best. You see? I have a chart for it and everything!
Follo’s eyes followed your finger to the abandoned little piece of paper you’d brought out,way back when you first coaxed him into the room. Long forgotten with not a single piece of writing on it.
Quickly you pulled him back to you, pressing another one behind his ear. “Now let me work!”
And all he would do is sigh, slumping his shoulders and letting you pepper paint the canvas of his skin.
Don’t think he’s not gonna get you back though. He will find a way. (But that’s just a fiction, a fan fiction!)
❥ ּ֯ ┆ ꒰ yearning / crushing on an enemy ! ꒱┆the cleaners x fem! raider reader
⟢ rudo surebrec
the first time rudo saw you, he didn't know your name, or even why someone like you had chosen to stand beside the raiders.
all he knew was that you were supposed to be his enemy. another face hidden beneath the symbol of the people the cleaners had sworn to stop.
the mission itself had been nothing unusual. after the raiders appeared, another fight were broken buildings and clouds of dust swallowed almost everything in sight, another day where everyone expected to return home covered in bruises and dirt.
it lasted only a few seconds, but when your eyes briefly met his through the smoke, something inside him hesitated.
there wasn't cruelty written across your face like he'd always imagined a raider would have. there wasn't satisfaction from the destruction surrounding you. if anything, you almost looked tired.
before he could make sense of it, you were already gone, disappearing alongside the rest of the raiders, leaving rudo standing there with a feeling he couldn't explain no matter how hard he tried.
he told himself it was nothing, that he'd simply been caught off guard, yet even after the mission ended and everyone returned to headquarters, your face refused to leave his mind. while cleaning his gloves, he'd suddenly remember the way you made eye contact without hesitation.
while eating dinner with the others, he'd find himself wondering whether you had escaped safely before immediately getting irritated at himself for even thinking about it. every night, just as sleep was about to find him, that brief moment would replay in his head until he finally forced himself to stop.
you were a raider. there was no reason for you to occupy his thoughts the way you did, and yet no matter how many times he reminded himself of that fact, his heart stubbornly ignored him.
the more the cleaners crossed paths with the raiders, the worse everything became.
every mission somehow ended with rudo unconsciously searching the raiders before the fighting had even properly started, his eyes moving across rooftops, broken alleyways, and collapsing buildings until they inevitably found you somewhere in the distance. at first he convinced himself it was simply because he wanted to keep track of a dangerous opponent, but that excuse slowly fell apart every time he caught himself feeling relieved the moment he realized you were still standing.
he began noticing little things no one else seemed to pay attention to.
you never lingered around unnecessary destruction longer than you had to. whenever innocent civilians became caught between both sides, you always seemed to be the first person pulling them somewhere safer before disappearing again as though no one had seen it happen.
there were even moments where it almost looked like you were silently cleaning up after your own teammates whenever their recklessness endangered people who had nothing to do with the fight.
none of it matched the image he'd built in his head of what a raider was supposed to be, and every new mission only made it harder for him to separate the enemy he was supposed to hate from the person his eyes constantly searched for.
somewhere along the way, he stopped looking for you because of strategy and started looking simply because he wanted to know you were alive. it frustrated him more than anything else.
he'd grit his teeth whenever he caught himself staring for a second too long or whenever his attention drifted toward your side of the battlefield instead of the opponent directly in front of him. sometimes he'd become so distracted trying to make sure you hadn't been crushed beneath collapsing debris that someone else had to snap him back into reality before he got himself hurt.
no matter how angry he became with himself afterward, it never changed anything. every battle repeated the exact same cycle until it became impossible to ignore.
eventually, the others started noticing the small things he couldn't hide anymore.
they noticed how his attention always wandered whenever the raiders appeared, how his eyes instinctively followed one specific figure through the crowd without him even realizing it. they noticed how he never rushed toward you the way he did everyone else, always choosing another opponent if someone else had already crossed paths with you.
they noticed how his shoulders relaxed almost invisibly whenever you managed to escape before the fighting came to an end instead of ending up buried beneath another destroyed building. nobody could quite understand why, and neither could rudo. he hated himself for it some days because he knew exactly how impossible it was.
every mission reminded him that sooner or later there could come a day where one of you wouldn't make it back, and that thought settled heavily inside his chest in a way he had never experienced before.
he didn't know your favorite food, your hobbies, your past, or even whether you had people waiting for you after every mission the same way he did. he didn't know anything about you beyond the quiet kindness he'd witnessed through scattered moments between the fights, yet somehow that was enough for his heart to betray every bit of common sense he had.
he never confessed those feelings to anyone, never spoke them aloud, and never allowed himself to imagine a future where they could become something more, because he knew reality would only tear those hopes apart.
still, every single mission always began exactly the same. before tightening his grip onto the gloves, before taking his first step into the fight, before reminding himself that you were his enemy, his eyes would already be searching through the smoke and ruined streets for only one person. not because he wanted another fight. not because he wanted revenge.
but because hidden beneath all the guilt, confusion, and frustration he refused to acknowledge, there was one quiet wish he carried into every fight—that when everything was finally over, you'd still be alive.
⟢ enjin
enjin had met plenty of people throughout his years as a cleaner.
some were loud enough to make their presence known before they even entered a room, while others disappeared so easily into the background that he often forgot they had ever been there in the first place.
but somehow, out of everyone he could've crossed paths with, the person who managed to stay in his mind the longest belonged to the very group he was supposed to be fighting against.
he didn't know how it happened, and if anyone had asked him when those feelings first started, he honestly wouldn't have been able to answer. maybe it was because every single time the raiders appeared, you carried yourself differently than the rest. you never seemed interested in showing off, never wasted your energy taunting the cleaners, and never looked like someone who enjoyed the destruction happening around you.
while everyone else rushed headfirst into the fight with reckless confidence, you stayed quiet, focused only on what you had come to do before disappearing just as quickly as you had arrived.
there was something about that calmness that lingered in enjin's mind long after every mission had ended, and no matter how many times he tried brushing it aside, he always found himself thinking about you again before the next fight even arrived.
it slowly became a habit he never intended to create.
whenever word spread that the raiders had been spotted somewhere nearby, enjin would prepare himself alongside the other cleaners like he always did, yet before his thoughts settled on the objective or the strategy, his eyes were already searching through the trash for one familiar figure.
he didn't even realize he was doing it anymore.
it happened naturally, almost instinctively, until seeing you somewhere across the fight became the only thing that allowed the strange tension sitting in his chest to ease.
every single time he spotted you weaving between the chaos, completely unharmed, he felt relief before annoyance immediately followed. it frustrated him more than he cared to admit.
he had spent years teaching the younger cleaners not to let emotions interfere with their work, reminding them that hesitation could cost lives, yet here he was silently breaking his own advice without anyone realizing it.
he couldn't explain why his attention always drifted toward you, nor could he explain why the thought of something happening to you lingered in the back of his mind long after the fight had ended.
the worst part wasn't simply having feelings for someone he could never reach. it was knowing there wasn't a future where those feelings made sense.
every time the cleaners and raiders crossed paths, there was always the possibility that one wrong move would force one of them to become the other's opponent. enjin hated that thought more than anything because, despite everything, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to look at you the same way he looked at every other raider.
somewhere along the way, you had stopped becoming another enemy wearing unfamiliar colors and instead became someone his eyes unconsciously searched for the moment another fight began.
he found himself noticing the smallest things without meaning to—the way your expression stayed unreadable even when everything around you fell apart, the way you rarely lingered after completing whatever task had brought you there, the way you seemed almost distant from the rest of your own group despite standing beside them.
none of those details should have mattered to him, yet they settled inside his memory with embarrassing ease until he realized he probably knew your habits better than he knew some of the people he'd worked beside for years.
he never spoke about it.
not because he thought the others would laugh, but because he already knew exactly what they'd say. they would remind him that you were a raider, that the line separating the cleaners from the raiders couldn't simply disappear because of feelings, and that letting his heart cloud his judgment would only end badly for everyone involved.
they would've been right.
enjin knew they would've been right.
he had spent enough years in the sphere to understand that some things weren't meant to happen no matter how badly someone wished otherwise. still, understanding reality didn't make his feelings disappear. if anything, it only made them heavier. every fight became another quiet reminder that the distance between the two of you wasn't measured by trash or buildings but by the lives each of you had chosen long before ever meeting.
no matter how often he reminded himself to stop thinking about you, to stop looking for you, or to stop wondering whether you had made it out safely after another fight, his heart refused to cooperate.
by the time he accepted what he was feeling, there wasn't much he could do about it anymore. the habit had become impossible to break.
every fight always started exactly the same way.
before checking on the younger cleaners, before thinking about the objective, before stepping forward to lead the others, his gaze would quietly sweep across the streets, rooftops, and broken buildings until it found the one person it had been searching for all along. only then could he finally focus on everything else.
he never expected those feelings to be returned, and he certainly never allowed himself to imagine a life where someone like you could stand beside him instead of across from him. some wishes were simply too unrealistic to hold onto.
so he kept them buried where no one else could see them, carrying them silently from one fight to the next, hoping that when everything was finally over and both sides went their separate ways once again, you'd still be somewhere out there, breathing beneath the same sky as him.
⟢ tamsy caines
tamsy didn't become interested in people very often.
most of them bored him long before they had the chance to become useful. they were predictable, painfully easy to manipulate, and almost laughable in the way they convinced themselves they were making their own choices while he quietly guided them exactly where he wanted. he had spent so long watching people fall apart that their reactions no longer surprised him.
fear, anger, grief, desperation—they all followed the same pattern eventually. it was why he rarely looked twice at anyone, whether they were cleaners, raiders, or ordinary people caught in between.
everyone was simply another piece to move across the board whenever it suited him. then you appeared, and instead of immediately deciding how he could use you, he found himself watching.
he didn't know when his curiosity had started.
perhaps it was because you refused to fit neatly into the image he'd already built in his head.
unlike everyone else, you weren't loud enough to demand attention, nor were you desperate to prove yourself whenever a fight broke out. you carried yourself with an almost unsettling composure, making decisions carefully instead of rushing ahead with emotion. while others acted first and thought later, you always seemed to be calculating something beneath that unreadable expression of yours.
every time your paths crossed, tamsy caught himself paying less attention to the fight itself and more attention to the way you moved through it. not because he admired you—he wasn't capable of something so simple—but because he couldn't quite predict you. and for someone like him, unpredictability was far more entertaining than admiration could ever be.
that curiosity slowly became something he fed whenever the opportunity presented itself.
during every encounter between the cleaners and raiders, his gaze would naturally drift toward you, quietly studying the smallest details without you ever realizing it. he watched how you reacted whenever plans unexpectedly changed, how quickly you adapted when everything around you became chaotic, and how surprisingly difficult it was to read what was going through your head. most people wore their emotions openly enough for him to pull them apart within minutes.
you didn't.
you guarded your thoughts so naturally that even he found himself wondering what exactly was hiding underneath the surface. instead of frustrating him, it fascinated him. you became less of an enemy and more of a puzzle, one he couldn't solve no matter how long he observed you.
before long, those observations turned into ideas, dangerous ones.
he started wondering what someone like you would become if the right person whispered into your ear long enough.
whether that calmness of yours could be twisted into something far uglier. whether your mind, already so careful and patient, could be convinced to see the world the way he did. he wasn't interested in changing who you were overnight. that would've been boring. tamsy enjoyed slow change far more than immediate results.
he liked watching people convince themselves that every decision had been their own, never realizing someone else had quietly guided each step. every time he thought about you, he imagined possibility instead of impossibility. perhaps you weren't meant to remain another obstacle standing across from him. perhaps, with enough time, enough carefully placed conversations, enough doubt planted in exactly the right places, you could become something entirely different.
someone who didn't merely understand his way of thinking, but embraced it.
that thought lingered far longer than he expected.
not because he believed you were already like him, but because he wanted to know whether you could become like him.
there was something strangely amusing about imagining the two of you standing on the same side, not out of loyalty or affection, but because the world around you had become nothing more than another game to play. someone capable of understanding plans several steps ahead instead of constantly reacting to them. someone patient enough to let people destroy themselves without ever needing to raise their voice.
someone who could appreciate the satisfaction of watching everything fall into place exactly as intended. he didn't think about sharing victories or building trust. those ideas meant very little to him. what interested him was the possibility of finding someone intelligent enough to keep up with him, someone who wouldn't immediately crumble the moment things became uncomfortable.
it was an unusual feeling, one he never bothered naming. it certainly wasn't kindness, it wasn't admiration, it wasn't even love, at least not in the ordinary sense.
it was obsession wrapped inside curiosity, growing a little more every time another fight placed the two of you on opposite sides. the more he watched you, the more convinced he became that you were wasting your potential standing where you were.
in his eyes, the world was already rotten beyond saving, and people were nothing more than pieces waiting to be arranged into something entertaining. he found himself wondering whether, given enough time, you would eventually come to the same conclusion. and if you didn't whether he could be the one to gently push you toward it.
for the first time in a very long while, tamsy wasn't thinking about how quickly he could break someone. he was thinking about how interesting it might be if someone walked beside him willingly.
not because they had been forced, not because they had been deceived.
but because, somewhere along the way, they had begun to see the world through the same fractured lens he did.
and that possibility alone was enough to keep his attention fixed on you long after every fight had already come to an end.
⟢ zanka nijiku
zanka had always believed that feelings were inconvenient.
they distracted people, clouded their judgment, and gave others an opening to exploit weaknesses that should have never existed in the first place.
growing up within the nijiku clan meant discipline came before everything else. emotions were meant to stay beneath the surface, no matter how strongly they threatened to rise. because of that, he rarely found himself paying attention to anyone for longer than necessary. people entered his life just as easily as they left it, and he never saw much reason to chase after either outcome.
then you appeared, standing among the raiders during one ordinary fight, and somehow his attention kept drifting back toward you no matter how many times he forced himself to look away.
he couldn't even explain why.
you hadn't done anything extraordinary. you weren't the loudest person when it came to fighting, nor were you trying to make yourself known by taunting the cleaners or showing off your abilities. if anything, you seemed almost detached from the chaos happening around you.
while everyone else allowed the noise of the fight to consume them, you remained strangely composed, carrying yourself with the kind of quiet confidence that came from someone who didn't need to prove anything. every movement was deliberate, every decision carefully thought through before it was made, and every time zanka happened to catch sight of you through the smoke and ruined streets, he found himself watching for a little longer than he intended. it irritated him almost immediately.
he wasn't someone who allowed distractions, especially not distractions wearing the symbol of the people he was expected to defeat.
after that first encounter, seeing you became something he quietly anticipated without ever admitting it to himself.
whenever another fight broke out between the cleaners and the raiders, his attention naturally swept across the fight before settling on the familiar figure he'd unknowingly begun searching for. he always caught himself doing it a second too late, clicking his tongue under his breath before forcing himself to focus on the task in front of him instead.
it was ridiculous.
there were more important things demanding his attention than wondering whether you had already arrived or where you were standing among the other raiders. yet despite how many times he scolded himself internally, the habit never disappeared. if anything, it only became more noticeable with every passing fight. somewhere along the way, he stopped searching because of caution and started searching because his mind refused to settle until he knew where you were.
what bothered him most was how naturally you found your way into his thoughts outside of fights.
he'd be training alone, repeating the same techniques he'd practiced thousands of times before, only for his concentration to break because he suddenly remembered the expression you'd worn during your last encounter. he'd be helping around headquarters or listening to enjin speak, yet part of his mind would wander back to wondering what exactly someone like you was doing whenever the cleaners weren't around.
he knew almost nothing about you beyond the fact that you were a raider, yet somehow his imagination insisted on filling in the empty spaces without his permission. it annoyed him enough that he often trained longer than usual afterward, convincing himself that physical exhaustion would finally quiet his thoughts.
it never did.
instead, the feelings only became more obvious the longer they remained unspoken.
the others never noticed because zanka was too good at hiding what he felt, but he noticed every little change in himself. he noticed how he subconsciously avoided letting his eyes linger on you for too long whenever your paths crossed.
he noticed how his chest tightened whenever a fight became particularly chaotic and you disappeared beneath clouds of dust, only relaxing once he spotted you again somewhere in the distance. he noticed how he became strangely irritated whenever another cleaner spoke about eliminating every raider without exception, not because he disagreed with the mission, but because his mind immediately pictured you standing among them.
every reaction felt unfamiliar, and that unfamiliarity frustrated him more than the feelings themselves.
he hated how complicated everything suddenly became. because life had always been simple before.
the cleaners protected people, the raiders stood against them. that should have been enough.
there shouldn't have been room for uncertainty, yet you somehow became exactly that. every fight served as another reminder that there was a line separating the two of you, one that neither side could cross without abandoning everything they had fought for. zanka understood that better than anyone, which was exactly why he refused to entertain the impossible future his heart occasionally tried to imagine.
no matter how often those thoughts appeared, he buried them before they had the chance to grow, convincing himself they would disappear if he ignored them long enough.
they never did. instead, they quietly settled somewhere deep inside him, becoming another truth he carried in silence.
so every fight continued exactly the same. before drawing his jinki, before stepping into the fight, before reminding himself that the person he was searching for was supposed to be nothing more than another enemy.
his eyes would instinctively sweep across the ruined streets until they found you somewhere among the smoke.
only then would he allow himself to look away, burying whatever feeling had settled inside his chest before anyone else had the chance to notice it. he never expected those feelings to be returned, and he never allowed himself to believe there was a future where someone like you could stand beside him instead of across from him. some things simply weren't meant to exist.
still, no matter how impossible it all seemed, there was one thought he could never force himself to abandon.
as long as another fight ended with both of you still walking away from it, that was enough for him.
⟢ gris rubion
gris had always been someone who relied on reason before emotion.
he wasn't the type to let first impressions influence him, nor did he spend time dwelling on people who had no place in his life. years of experience had taught him that becoming emotionally invested only complicated things, especially in a world where tomorrow was never guaranteed.
because of that, he rarely found anyone interesting enough to stay on his mind once a fight had ended. everyone eventually faded into the background, becoming nothing more than another passing face he'd crossed paths with. he expected you to be no different.
you were a raider, someone who existed on the opposite side of everything he believed in, and that should have been enough to keep you nothing more than another stranger. instead, without realizing it, he kept remembering you long after every encounter was over.
it started with something so small that he almost overlooked it himself.
every time the cleaners were informed that the raiders had appeared nearby, gris found his attention wandering before the fight had even begun. while everyone else prepared themselves, his gaze would quietly sweep through the surrounding streets until it landed on you somewhere among the others. only after confirming where you were would he finally shift his focus back to the mission ahead. at first he convinced himself it was nothing more than caution.
knowing where certain opponents were positioned was simply part of staying alert. but as the days turned into weeks, that excuse became harder to believe. there were plenty of raiders worth keeping an eye on, yet somehow his attention always settled on the same person.
even when the two of you never crossed paths directly during a fight, he still found himself looking for you without meaning to, almost as though part of his mind refused to settle until it knew you were there.
what confused him most was how little he actually knew about you.
he didn't know what your life looked like outside of the raiders.
he didn't know where you had come from, what kind of person you had been before joining them, or what reasons had led you down that path. all he knew were the small pieces he'd gathered from quietly watching over time. you never seemed interested in unnecessary attention.
you handled every fight with a level head, rarely allowing frustration or excitement to show across your face no matter what was happening around you.
while others lost themselves in the chaos, you remained composed, carrying yourself with a quiet confidence that somehow stood out far more than anyone trying to make themselves noticed. those little details shouldn't have mattered to him, yet they stayed in his memory with surprising clarity, replaying themselves at the most inconvenient moments.
there were times when gris would be sitting alone after a mission, taking care of his equipment or enjoying one of the rare quiet evenings headquarters had to offer, only to realize his thoughts had wandered back toward you again.
he would wonder whether you had returned to your own headquarters safely after the fight, whether you were injured, or whether the calm expression you always wore ever disappeared once no one else was around to see it.
every time he caught himself thinking that way, he'd quietly sigh and force his attention elsewhere, almost embarrassed by how naturally those thoughts came to him. it wasn't like him to become distracted over someone he had barely spoken to. it certainly wasn't like him to care about someone he was supposed to see as an enemy.
the more he tried convincing himself those feelings would eventually disappear, the more stubborn they became.
they settled quietly inside him, never demanding attention, never overwhelming his judgment, but always lingering somewhere in the back of his mind.
every fight became another reminder that no matter how much distance existed between the two of you, his eyes would always search for you first. it wasn't something he consciously chose anymore.
it had become instinct. if too much time passed without catching sight of you, an unfamiliar sense of unease settled inside him until he finally found you somewhere through the confusion. only then would that feeling disappear as quietly as it had arrived. he disliked how easily his emotions had begun acting on their own, especially when they centered around someone he could never allow himself to become close to.
gris wasn't foolish enough to pretend there was a future where everything simply worked itself out.
he understood reality far too well for that.
the cleaners and the raiders stood on opposite sides, and every fight served as another reminder that the line dividing them only grew deeper with time. feelings couldn't erase that truth, no matter how genuine they became.
still, no amount of logic could stop what had already taken root inside him. he accepted that much with reluctant silence, choosing to carry those emotions alone rather than burden anyone else with something he knew would never lead anywhere.
his gaze would instinctively move through the streets, searching until it found the familiar person who had somehow become impossible to ignore.
only then would he allow himself to look away, bury those feelings beneath the calm expression everyone expected from him, and continue as though nothing had happened.
because even if you remained someone he could never stand beside, he still hoped that every fight would end with both of you surviving it.
⟢ follo tunito
follo had always believed that there was value in understanding people before judging them.
while others were quick to decide who someone was after only a single meeting, he preferred to observe quietly, allowing people to reveal themselves over time instead of relying on assumptions.
it was a habit that had followed him for years, one that made him far more patient than most of those around him. because of that, he rarely became surprised by anyone.
eventually, everyone exposed the parts of themselves they tried so hard to hide. he thought you would be no different. you were a raider, someone who belonged on the opposite side of every fight he found himself in, and that alone should have been enough for him to stop thinking any further. yet every time your paths crossed, he found himself paying a little more attention than he ever intended.
it wasn't because you stood out. if anything, you did the exact opposite.
while other raiders made themselves impossible to ignore, your presence blended naturally into the fight. you never seemed interested in drawing unnecessary attention to yourself or proving your strength through reckless decisions. there was a quiet patience in the way you carried yourself, as though every movement had already been considered before you made it.
follo noticed those little habits without realizing he was collecting them. the way your expression barely changed no matter how chaotic things became. the way you rarely wasted energy on anything that didn't matter. the way you always seemed to disappear before anyone had the chance to focus on you for too long.
they were small observations, meaningless on their own, yet together they slowly formed the image of someone he couldn't seem to forget.
after enough fights, it became difficult for him to deny what was happening.
before every mission involving the raiders, his eyes would naturally wander through the crowd, almost absentmindedly searching for the familiar figure he'd somehow grown used to seeing. he never admitted it aloud, not even to himself at first. instead, he excused it as awareness, telling himself that recognizing the positions of certain opponents simply made planning easier.
but that explanation stopped making sense the moment he realized he never searched for anyone else with the same consistency. even during fights where the two of you never came close to crossing paths, he still found himself wondering where you were somewhere in the distance.
it was an unnecessary distraction, one he quietly scolded himself for after every mission, yet the habit never disappeared.
what unsettled him most wasn't the attraction itself, it was how peaceful it felt.
there was no overwhelming rush of emotions or dramatic realization that suddenly changed everything.
instead, those feelings settled inside him little by little, becoming part of his routine before he ever recognized them for what they truly were.
sometimes, after returning to headquarters, he'd be cleaning his equipment or helping the others with ordinary tasks when your face would quietly drift back into his thoughts without warning. he'd remember the calm expression you always carried or the quiet confidence that seemed so natural to you, and before he realized it, several minutes had already passed with his mind somewhere else entirely.
each time it happened, he'd simply smile to himself with quiet disbelief before forcing his attention back to whatever he had been doing.
the more he thought about it, the more impossible everything seemed.
he knew almost nothing about you beyond the fragments he'd gathered during countless fights. he didn't know your favorite things, the life you'd lived before becoming a raider, or whether the person he imagined in his mind was even close to who you really were.
perhaps he had built an image that didn't exist at all.
perhaps if the two of you ever truly met outside of a fight, everything would fall apart. those thoughts crossed his mind often, yet strangely, they never made the feelings disappear. if anything, they only reminded him how unfair the situation really was.
because no matter what he felt, reality remained exactly the same. you were a raider, he was a cleaner.
every fight reminded him that the distance between the two of you wasn't something either of you could simply ignore. responsibilities came before personal feelings, and follo understood that better than most.
he never allowed those emotions to interfere with his work, nor did he entertain unrealistic dreams of a future that probably could never exist. instead, he accepted those feelings quietly, carrying them with the same gentle patience he carried everything else in his life.
his eyes would instinctively search the streets until they found you somewhere among the raiders. only then would he quietly look away, knowing that seeing you from a distance would always have to be enough.
because even if the two of you were destined to remain on opposite sides.
he couldn't stop himself from hoping that every fight would end with you walking away safely, even if it meant walking farther away from him.
Follo knew what he was doing was wrong, he should be with the other cleaners and helping them with defeating trash beasts, not on the floor of a destroyed building with a raider who is currently straddling his lap and kissing him so feverishly.
As the makeout session continued his doubts slowly vanished and all he could focus on was how you grinded againts his crotch, eliciting a muffled moan from him as the heated kiss continued.
It was when you pulled away that you took a good look at his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes half lidded with a look that you could only describe as lovestruck.
A smirk appeared on your face as you took in his disheveled appearance.
“Follo..” you cooed at the man, raising your hand that was on his shoulder to hold his cheek. He in return leaned in closer to your touch.
“Look at you, already a mess for me.” You teased, using your other hand to fix his tilted hat and goggles. His cheeks reddened at your words. As much as he hated to admit, you had an effect on him that left him a needy mess.
“I could just ravish you.”
Please do
He tried leaning in for another kiss, his grip on your waist tightening yet the sound of someone calling out his name caught his attention and made him halt. You turned your head to look at the source of the sound and slowly pulled your hand away.
“Guess we have to save this for another time.” And with much reluctance, you stood up and got off him, fixing up your messy attire. Follo scrambled to get on his feet, eyes darting towards you and the area the sound came from. It was when the person called out his name once again that he realized it was Gris.
Shit
“It’s a shame that we were interrupted… oh well.” A hint of amusement could be found in your voice as you finished tidying yourself up.
“See you later Follo.” You said with a teasing smile and with one last glance at him you turned around and walked away from him, going farther inside the building.
“Wait—” he called out, his hand outstretched yet you simply kept on walking, slowly disappearing into the darkness of the ruined building. His hand fell to his side as stared at where your figure had stood, not hearing the footsteps of Gris as he approached him.
“Follo! There you are! I thought we lost you.” Gris chuckled as he walked towards him, patting his head a bit.
“What are you doing here?” Gris asked but got no response from the supporter. He then noticed his tousled clothes and how he kept on staring at a door. And his flushed face.
“Follo? You alright?”
Follo gulped, forcing himself to look away. He avoided looking at Gris who stared at him with a questioning expression on his face.
“Yeah.. I’m fine.” He cleared his throat and glanced at the ground, his right hand holding his hat, heart hammering against his chest.
Once more, he was left yearning for your touch.
a/n: It’s me again…follosnumberonegooner. The R!reader brainrot is real I had to write something about her and follo. ALSO YALL KNOW THAT RHING FOLLO DOES WITH HIS HAT? LIKE HE HOLDS IT AND I LOVE IT. Is this probably not well written? Yes! Is this ooc? Yes! Is this proof read? No!
