#gen writes drabbles

[14dayswithyou]

The 14DWY brainrot is real... >_< were ypu planning on sharing koi ren's design here too or is it discord only for now? remember to drink lots n lots of water today 🐸☔️

i don't rmbr if i included this but can you share any koi crumbs too?

✦゜ANSWERED: aaaaa I'm 14 years late to this ask (/silly), but thank you for reminding me!! I'll add the new Mer Ren design to da queue >:3

I'll also put the Koi Ren (I'm rocking with this new name!!) crumbs under the cut!!

"Stop rocking the boat, Ren." Without sparing a glance in his direction, you continue to stare out into the vast, open lake. "You'll scare away all the fish."

Had you turned around, you would've seen the faux-deadpan look on his face as Ren takes in the irony of your words. As if to prove a point, he gently swishes his tail in the water, which causes small ripples to form and (eventually) disturb your bobber. "I don't think the boat is the problem here."

"Okay, how about this... One more fish, then we can go back." You finally look back at your scaley companion — who was still leaning against the edge of your tin boat with a lazy smile — and give him a resolute nod. "Promise."

"Sure," Ren casually reaches into the boat to pick and pluck at some of your live bait. "But you said that about the last three fish."

"This will be the last one. I swear."

"You... swear?" You try to ignore the way Ren swallows up one of your minnows as if you weren't using them for bait as he continues to speak, "Like... curse words? Humans sure are weird creatures."

As if realising his comment, Ren's ocean-blue eyes widen slightly and shift towards your form. "N-Not... Not you, though."

With a laugh, you playfully try to nudge him off of the boat. All it does is cause it to tip slightly, but Ren steadies it when you show signs of losing balance.

"Alright. One more fish, then?"

You nod and cast your attention back to your rod once more. You don't even notice the silence — nor Ren slipping away — until you suddenly feel a tug on your line and call out to your companion in excitement. "That was quick!"

Quickly reeling it in, you wonder what kind of fish you'd just caught — it's definitely stronger than you anticipated, given how the rod drastically bends and snaps at every movement from the fish. And just as you see the shadow from the murky depths get closer, the ripples get bigger and cause a stir underneath your tin boat. Standing up now, you try with all your might to reel it on board...

...Only for a mess of black hair to emerge from below and peer up at you with a smug look.

"Ren!"

"Looks like you got a big one."

"C'moooon." You practically whine, though you allow Ren to haul himself into your tiny boat and rest his head in your lap. You can still feel his body shake from underneath your touch, no doubt still laughing at his poor attempt at a joke. "This doesn't count."

A beat passes before your fishy companion responds. "...Hm? Fine then."

Another moment of silence follows before he slithers back into the water without another word. Half of you worries that you might've said something to offend him (there was still the tiniest hint of a language barrier between you two). Still, it ultimately leads to nothing as Ren soon emerges once more — only this time, he's hauling the biggest largemouth bass you'd ever seen into your boat.

"This good enough?" He looks at you with wide, blue eyes. "If not, I can probably find a sturgeon and—"

"It's bigger than my boat!"

"Is this what your kind calls... exaggeration? Because your boat is big enough even for me to—"

"—Arghh! It's getting water everywhere! Put it back!"

It was almost comical how Ren tossed the fish over his shoulder and back into the water without breaking eye contact with you.

Another wave of silence hits, yet neither of you seems to move or break the awkward staring contest you'd somehow started. It's then when you notice Ren's grin get bigger — most likely at your resignation and embarrassment — which causes you to fall back into your seat in defeat.

"Fine. Enough fishing for today. Let's head back." Busying yourself with the bucket of fish and tacklebox in front of you, you secure your gear and pack everything away. But it seems Ren had other plans, seeing as he took it upon himself to climb back into your boat and rest his arms on your legs. No longer able to move as freely, you have no choice but to indulge in his carefree whims.

"But you caught me. Aren't you going to bring me home too?"

"As much as I want to," Truly, you do. You've always wanted to show Ren the world outside of Lake Bluemoss. "There's no way I'm carrying you all the way down the mountain."

"You never know until you cry."

"Try." You correct him. "Until you try."

"Your kind sure are funny." Ren nuzzles himself closer. "Perhaps another time, then... Stay here tonight."

Your body pricks up at his words, and you spare a glance at the abandoned boathouse near the dock. Despite its rough and rugged exterior, you and Ren actually made it quite comfy. It had some of your old blankets and sheets thrown over one of the boats to make it comfortable to lounge in — alongside a giant empty tank that you and Ren filled with water for him to sit in as well. Despite the lack of human traction, the place still felt homey and well-loved.

"...I guess I could."

"Then what are we waiting shore?"

You had to roll your eyes at his attempt at a pun.

[sant-riley]

[Ghost x fem!reader blurb]

this is for the girlies who can't drive for shit and don't have their license <3 it's me. I'm girly.

Notes: Extremely short, about 400-500 words, She/her pronouns aren't used but he does call you girl. Use of the nickname "Runt." No established relationship. Lmk if I missed anything!

~

"You know I can drive right?" You murmured, looking up from your phone as you sat on the passenger side.

Ghost was rubbing his nose bridge, sighing heavily at the traffic on the road.

He was slouched back in his seat, legs spread wide in his seat as his eyes closed forcibly. It was a treat to see him in civilian clothing, a real one.

A small part of you hummed with contentment knowing you were one of the very few to get to see him like this often.

You two were the off base for a week-long break, choosing to spend it together as you both usually did. It was too much hassle to head back home on your end and Ghost enjoyed your company.

It wasn't rare to see the pair of you get back to base together and return as well. You had worried about what the others could say but that was quickly silenced when Ghost shot a glance at you with a look of "I don't give a fuck." which silenced your worries.

Snapping out of your running thoughts, You swore you could hear the creak of his neck twisting towards you, Simon's eyes snapping open and looking at you incredulously.

"What? No." He turned his head back to the road, inching the truck closer to the light. You could see his eyes roll too.

"You don't look like you want to, so let me." Rolling your eyes in return, moving to undo your seatbelt so you could do a quick swap as the light was red.

"Runt, no." A big hand covered your hand, pushing your own away, leaving as soon as it was there.

"And why not?" You raise an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes.

"For starters, you're a shit driver in the states, can't imagine you driving here in Manchester." He stated it was a fact. He shrugged like y'all were talking about the weather. Fucker.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean-" You stuttered, huffing as he doubted you. He wasn't wrong but did he have to fucking phrase it like that?

Ghost couldn't help the smirk growing on his face at your pout, letting out a low chuckle.

"It means what it means, runt. Second of all, it's not your job." He poked fun at you, licking his lips under his mask as he focused his eyes back on the road.

"What the fuck does that mean, 'my job?' Don't tell me you're playing stereotypes on me."

You grumbled, crossing your arms as you stared out the window, watching the people on the sidewalks.

"No, don't be stupid." He should be offended, to think you'd say that but to be fair, he couldn't blame you.

"Okay so tell me!" The whine left your lips, staring at his side profile, puffing your chest as you tried to get him to meet your eyes with his own.

"Pretty girls don't drive, simple as that."

His huge hand patted your thigh, sending a shiver down your spine as you felt the blood rush to your face.

All he could do was snicker as he stepped on the gas pedal, his hand warming your skin as he drove.

Taglist:

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@117s-girl @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @sparrowwithaquill @justtiredandvibing

[imaginethesepages]

say my name.

What do you mean you don’t know when she’ll wake up?

Captain, please, the impact on her head when she fell from the attack did a damage to her skull, leading to her current state. There is nothing much we can do but wait.

Huh? What— what’s going on? What are they talking about, and is that… Captain Narumi?

Nothing? No. We have the best facilities and the best equipment. What do you mean there’s nothing we can do!?

Captain Narumi, stop! Let go of the doctor now!

Master Moron, you need to calm down.

Wait— what is going on? Nothing is making sense.

I’m sorry, captain. We did our best; it’s all up to her now.

Every day, I hear them come and go, the soft clicks of a door closing, the tiny creaking noise of a dragging chair, and the constant beeps copying the rhythm of my heart. Sometimes, I can sense the cold wind on my skin or calloused fingers brushing my cheeks and grazing my hand. But I’m not too sure.

Everything is reverberated with dullness, like how I can hear the voices but never make out the words. It’s all muted and unclear.

How long will you keep sleeping? You’re worrying everyone, you know.

I don’t know, I want to say. I’m trying — really, I am. But everything is so heavy, like my muscles are too lazy to function, and every fiber is on a strike, not wanting to do its obligations.

You need to wake up, you hear me. You promised to follow me into battle, to have my back as I have yours. I’m holding you to that promise.

I remember. I did promise him that. 

My finger twitches, and I hear a gasp. Already, moving a single finger feels like lifting an enormous boulder with my entire being only an inch off the ground. But the same calloused fingers grab my hand, warm and encouraging — cheering me to push forward and out of the abyss.

You need to wake up. Who else would pull me away from my games if not for you? Who else would control my impulsive buying? Who else would I listen to? 

Ah, he’s right. Who knows what may happen if I leave the captain alone? He’d probably make Hasegawa-san want to pull out his hair — and that’s saying something when he’s already bald.

I chuckle. It probably sounded like a concerning wheeze. But it doesn’t matter, for all I can think of as I forced my eyes open is, “I cannot let Captain Narumi down.”

And what a sight for sore eyes he truly is.

How bad were my injuries? Did you really try to hurt the doctors who took care of me?

Can I still fight? Will you still let me stand beside you?

Did we succeed with the mission? What else did I miss?

Have you set the First Division up in flames yet? I pray and hope not.

How long have you been waiting, captain? Did I make you wait long?

I’m sorry for worrying you. Though, I can’t promise I won’t do it again.

I want to say so much and ask so many. But all that comes out is…

“He-hey, Gen.”

jeuel, did you just write a 500+ word drabble? well, yes. yes, i did. and let me tell you, it shocked me as well.

if you're new to my inconsistent and random drabble posting, i normally write for whatever fandom i feel like with whatever concept i can think of — mostly angst, not much on comedy. and usually, they only end up within 100 — 300 words, never 500!!

so this, for me, is a monster drabble 🤯

idk what happened, i just kept writing. and when i was editing it, i just couldn't keep it within my preferred word count range. when i took some paragraphs out, they didn't make sense without them. so, i just said, "screw it!! leave it like that."

anyway, enjoy xx

[dilucsrevenge]

alhaitham is so used to getting away with his poor attitude that he never sees it coming when you’ve finally had it with the way he talks to you. he never expected to be face first into the mattress of his own bed, in his own home, stuffed full of your length to the point that tears are rolling down his cheeks.

“please! ah — i didn’t mean it…” he whimpers, voice muffled to a degree from the tear-stained sheets below him.

both of you know that he did mean it, but he just didn’t mean to get caught. and you won’t let up on a punishment just because the filthy little brat apologized in the heat of the moment.

so you just fuck him harder. your tight grip on his waist sure to leave lasting bruising once you’re done with him. a sensitive reminder you’re sure to poke and prod at in the following days to keep him in check.

“i’ll accept your apology when i’m certain you mean it.” through gritted teeth you reply, marking the edge to your voice with sharp thrusts into him.

every one of your movements is almost too much for him. whimpers and whines and incoherent mumbles fall from the lips of the mighty scholar. seeing someone so keen on using their words reduced to barely using them edges you on. seeing his strained and leaking cock pulsing in need of a release intoces you to keep using him like the little toy you know he’s desperately craving.

“please…” he whispers, barely able to keep his eyes open in a poor attempt to gaze up at you. his eyes even prettier while reddened with the aftermath of being fucked delirious.

“oh, alhaitham… you poor little toy…” you coo, hand wrapping around his needy cock to grant him the friction you know he desires, “cum for me if you promise to never misbehave again.”

and in an instant, he does. his voice cracking and body shivering as his cum spills over your fist and onto the sheets below him. he’s barely making a noise, the wave of his orgasm reducing him to a silent and breathy mess.

though, you both know he enjoyed this. and deep down you both know he will repeat similar actions just to be bent over any various surface by you again.

[yxstxrdrxxm-a]

... Working under the Balladeer's orders as one of the members of the Fatui.

You were new, and Scaramouche knew that well. He was even told by one of the harbingers that they were letting you work under his guidance as you were not... Fit to follow the stronger harbingers.

He saw you as a nuisance once. He never really liked you, and he thought that you were simply annoying. Repulsive, even. It was laughable with how many times he'd watch you fall.

However, he couldn't lie and said that when others did it... He found it annoying. Irritating.

You were his property, just like how everyone is his own to use and break. That was no exception, and everyone knew that.

So why the hell do they think they can toy with you?

He had found himself making sure your missions go smoothly, even going so far as to isolate you from everyone else. Hell, he even made sure that those who decide to pair with you knew the extremes that he will take should they fuck around and get you hurt.

If a single hair had been misplaced, hell will break loose.

Scaramouche is a ticking time bomb, and for his poor, sweet, accident and chaos magnet of a darling... He found himself about to explode.

Maybe, just maybe, he was aware of that. And maybe you were, too.

After all, he knew that if anyone had decided to simply hurt you so much as even breathing wrong in your direction, he would have their necks faster than they can beg.

Love is a twisted thing.

And Scaramouche will twist it till it breaks.

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2023

[kazumiku]

HAI KAZU!!! I wanna request a drabble(?) or is it dabble idk these terms,, a scenario!!!! CAN YOU WRITE SOMETHING FOR KAZUHA, like an icecream date with kazuha!!! VERY WHOLESOME !!!!!! OMGG can yn buy a flavour they never tried and then not like it and they end up swapping ice creams 😣😣 AND THEY WATCH THE SUNSET TOGETHER like they walk around after in a park

I hope this makes sense 💗

HAI NI OMG THIS IS SO CUTE YES YES YES!!!!!!!? 💌💌💌 I LOVE THIS THOUGHT SM ILY INIII fluff gives me da brain fart so i hope this was alright!!! 😭

gn!reader, FLUUUUUUUFF, kazuha in love, he gives u a peck once, modern :3 736 words !!!

Kazuha's eyes has never left you since the start of this little date. An award for going through torturous hours and hours of lectures and classes, the professor's voice still stuck at the back of your head as you had exited the lecture hall wearily. You were done for the day, at least. He greets you out with a smile that sheds light your gloomy worries, and, not soon after, you both find yourself strolling out the campus gates.

"Careful now, dear," Kazuha ushered you to the sidewalk had you strayed further to the road. He had you walk beside him on the safe side of the pathway as the soles of your shoes tap on the pavement in matched steps—a little skip as you go.

His hand was warm intertwined in yours, palms rocking back and forth, in tune to the playful bounce in your walk. Kazuha was no less content in listening to your rants, offering a word of mind when you come to quiet down between sentences, smiling at him all pretty it made his chest tight.

"It seems like a childish act on your professor's part. Had your classmate acted more brash than sleeping, I'd understand, but slapping the poor boy with a chalk eraser as a wake up call is too rigorous," he sighed, his thumb brushing up your knuckles lightly.

"That's what I'm saying! And not to mention—oh," your gaze faltered, straying to the side of the grassy park the both of you just entered. A small stall was perched, with a man dressed in white handing out ice cream to a family of four, whom eat the frozen dessert with smiles on his faces. Kazuha's gaze followed yours, too.

Having caught of the sight just as you did, he tugs on your arm. "Ice cream?" not more was needed to be said when you followed along with a bright face.

"Oh, there's a lot more flavours than the shop we frequent. Would you like your usual?" directed Kazuha, whose scarlet eyes skirted over the options the stall had put up. You're one to stick by only what pleased you once, pleasing you a hundred times furthermore. So, he was no less surprised when you shook your head to his common query.

"I want to try something new!" your eyes widen in fascination as you glaze over the endless flavour options. "Blueberry cheesecake! I've never seen that before, can I try it out?" turning to Kazuha, he knew he couldn't resist that look as he nodded with a weary smile.

"Of course. Just a moment, let me get my wallet."

As now, you both stroll, much more careful as you hold the ice cream cone to your lips. Kazuha ordered vanilla, sweet and creamy, as he always does. You, on the other hand, were slapped by flavours on your tongue. The tang by the crushed blueberries and the taste of cream cheese seemed to be too much for you, as you started glancing over to Kazuha's way, earning you a quirk of the brow.

"Kazu…" a whine left low on your throat, the bottom of your lip jutting as you distance the ice cream the slightest away from your mouth.

You needn't say more than his name, the action informing him enough. He reaches to steer you to a spot by the lake, where you sit on a bench right beside him before the act of exchanging cones was held. He was glad he chose the flavour he did, knowing you'd like it, more than you did with the last.

"Don't rush, lest you want a brain freeze," you enjoyed it more than you let on, and Kazuha can tell. A bite too large on the treat, it made your teeth hurt, but he was no more than soft laughter emanating from his chest. You're too lovely for your own good, even under the streaking red and orange hues that broke the skies.

Kazuha muses, "You're as captivating under the sunset as you are at dawn." Earning a rosy hue to the apples of your cheeks.

"Are you telling me I'm pretty?"

"More than that, in truth," he leans, his lips brushing the corner of yours, cleaning the stray drop of vanilla ice cream that strayed far from your tongue. "You make me awfully smitten. I can't watch the sunset if you dazzle brighter than the sun does, my love."

main navi!

[weird-dere-writes]

Imagine having the most toe curling, eye rolling, back breaking, drool inducing sex. Your mind is hazy, your body is buzzing, the bed is rocking, and the air you breathe smells so heavily of them. You feel as if you are losing all grip of reality as your fav strokes your walls just right, hands caressing you where your nerves are most alight, lips searing as they traverse your skin and murmur huskily into the shell of your ear. Pleasure bleeds into pressure as you feel your form slowly but surely begin to lock up, wound tighter and tighter on the heels of an impending release. Your fav continues to absolutely work you out with each thrust, to bring you closer and closer to nirvana as you let out a shaky breath at the harsh shudder than runs through you.

Just as the knot in you snaps, you see white, and your eyes flutter closed. You tighten around them as your back bows off the bed, opening your hips to them for more as the world crashes down around you. You don’t remember what happens in the next few moments, but your tummy is warm, and there is a pleasant weight on top of you. Now that you lay still and are slowly coming to, you can begin to feel how cool the surrounding air is on the heat that swarms your face. It was crazy, what they could do to you.

You wanted to wrap your arms around your lover, but found you couldn’t. You were boneless at the moment, so that made things kinda hard. With all that oxytocin flooding your body, you found it a challenge to even open your eyes. Not that they seemed to mind. They were very much the same as they laid on top of you, unmoving but still so filled with this sensual energy you couldn't explain. There are no intentions to move any further on either party's side. You are both perfectly sated, at least for now. It's just, very intimate feeling. It's filling.

When you do manage to open those pretty eyes of yours, you find yourself... confused.

Your fav was nowhere to be found. The only image filling your sight was the turning of the ceiling fan above you. Your brows furrow as your brain tries fruitlessly to put things together. Had you been passed out for that long? Was it really that good?

Slowly, you gather the strength to move your hand. To try to slither it across the sheets in search of your personal pussy(gn) destroyer. And upon this attempt, you become even more confused.

Because you realize as you try to move, that their weight is still on top of you. Envelops you. But you don't see their face? Just how are they laying?

You weakly crane your head to look down and see...

Only cloth.

It doesn't look very thick to be this heavy. And then it hits you. Weighted blanket.

You're really starting to wonder how it is you got here. Because you still had a sheen of fresh sweat covering your skin from your passionate session just before. It was almost dizzying.

When you lay back down fully is when you begin to register that cool, wet rag on your forehead.

All the pieces come slamming together when your fav makes their way into the room with a bowl of soup in hand.

You groan, partially frustrated, partially disappointed.

That glorious fuck was a fucking fever dream.

Now all you wanted was the real thing, sickness be damned. You knew it wasn’t happening though.

“I hate it here.”

They sit nearby with a caring look in their eye that you hate to admit dampens those flames of ire within you; completely unaware of the true reason you are a little angy.

“I know, baby. But you’ll get better soon.”

[lonewolflupe]

Gingerbread Mess (Drabble)

This is my entry for week 11 of The Clone Wars Winter Spectacular 2024 / @clone-wars-winter-challenge !

I had something completely different in mind, but couldn't get it written. I'll try another time, so for now, have this little drabble!

Summary: A mess in the kitchen turns into a wholesome activity anyway Rating: General audiences Tags: drabble, fluff, Life Day Words: 100 Pairing: Wrecker x gen!reader Prompts: Christmas/Life Day Vacation / Gingerbread House Read this drabble here on AO3 week 10 | ↓ | week 12

With folded arms, you looked down at your gingerbread house creation. It was a complete mess; crooked walls that didn’t fit together properly, the icing too runny or too solid, sweet decorations slowly sliding down the roof.

“Ya know.. I’d still live there with you,” Wrecker said at last, trying to comfort your disappointment. But there was no need; this afternoon during your Life Day vacation had been the best one in ages. You turned towards him, the most affectionate smile adorning your face. “What about eating it with me?” “Aye, I can do that,” he finally grinned at you.

TBB drabbles: @bad-batch-drabbles

[0and0its0doctor0]

You Belong to Me, I Believe

David Rossi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not smutty but not clean either, CM Violence, Unwanted kissing by unsub

Summary: An unsub gets a little too flirty with you. David steps in.

WC: 1,021

Thank you @my-mummy-dust for helping me with everything and being my muse <3

You and David are sitting in the interrogation room in a tiny police department in Belmont, Louisiana. The unsub sitting in front of you was accused of murdering 8 women with another two still missing. David was asking him questions but he was refusing to answer anything, all he would do was stare at you practically drooling from the mouth. You and David walked out of the interrogation room and you ran a hand across your face with a sigh. It was hot, you were already sweating in your button up shirt and this interrogation was going nowhere.

“I have an idea. Just go with it.” You said taking off your over-shirt leaving you in a tight form fitting tank top and letting your hair out of the scrunchie that was holding it in a loose bun on top of your head. “What are you doing? You aren’t going in there like this.” David said stubbornly. You just looked at David with a raised eyebrow as you walked into the interrogation room. There was a low whistle from the unsub and David wanted to shoot him right then and there. 

You asked him the same questions David asked him and he answered most of them. He flirted relentlessly with you. “I’ll tell you where the girls are if you let me touch her.” He said and David smacked the table glaring at the unsub. “You don’t get to touch her. Only I get to do that.” He snapped, his voice low and threatening. “Let him.” You said stepping closer to where the unsub was chained to the table. You leaned forward just enough for him to run his chained hands through your hair. You were pulled back by a seething David Rossi.

“Get ready.” He said angrily into the radio as the unsub told you where to find the missing girls. Once David gave the information over the radio he pulled you out into the precinct. “What were you thinking?” You had never seen him this mad. “I was thinking we needed to find the missing girls and I was going to do whatever it took.” You folded your arms across your chest. He unfolded your arms and pulled you into a rough kiss tangling his hand in your hair and pushing you flush against his body. 

The kiss was sloppy and heated and angry. His hands were all over you and you felt your cheeks flush bright red when you remembered you were standing in the middle of a podunk police station with your entire team watching with rapt attention. When he finally pulled away you were panting and the color of a cherry tomato. “Do you guys need to go back to the hotel?” Aaron asked with a slight smirk to his face. David looked down at you as you were trying to straighten out your shirt.

“Nope. Just reminding her who she belongs to.” He said casually walking away leaving you there blinking. Emily walked up to you, the biggest shit eating grin on her face. “You have lipstick on your chin.” She said laughing as she walked away leaving you to run to the bathroom to sort yourself out. You couldn’t believe that just happened. Well if the team was going to find out about you and David dating might as well be in the middle of a small police department in Belmont, Louisiana. 

You were both standing in the hallway when the unsub was brought out, they were re-cuffing his hands after un-cuffing him from the table when he got loose and booked it towards you. He wrapped his arms around you pulling you into a forced kiss, the entire precinct burst into action. David pulled his gun pointing it at the unsub who had you held tight against his body. The officers that were originally handcuffing him managed to pry him away from you as you got shoved towards David who caught you and quickly walked you to the other side of the room out of harm's way. You were shaking trying to process what just happened.

“Hey. Are you okay?” David asked, his fingers gently grasping your chin so you were looking directly at him. “I uhm. I wasn’t expecting that to happen.” You said shakily, all of a sudden you were very cold. He leaned forward to kiss you but this time he was gentle and he caressed your cheek with his thumb. “Do not move.” He told you, stepping away from where you were leaning against a desk because you felt like your legs were going to give out. You watched as David walked up to the unsub and decked him. He walked back over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his side.  “Come on. We’re done here.” He grabbed your upper arm and guided you towards the waiting SUV’s. “But what about the girls?” You asked as he buckled you into the front seat. “You're the only girl I’m worried about right now.” He got in the driver's seat and took off towards the hotel. 

Once you arrived at the hotel and were safely inside David’s hotel room you sat on the edge of the bed not really sure what to do. “Hey kitten. You’re okay.” He said brushing some of your hair back. You surged forward practically knocking him to the ground as you aggressively pressed your lips to his licking your way into his mouth. He growled and wrapped his hands around your waist walking you backwards till you were flat on the mattress. His lips left sloppy wet kisses across your chin, down the curve of your neck and you groaned as he sucked a bruise into your clavicle. “I love you baby.” He whispered into your ear, licking the curve of it causing you to shudder. “You know I love that.” You said breathlessly causing him to smirk. “My beautiful girl.” He said into your ear before placing open mouthed kisses along your exposed skin. And that was how your bra wound up tossed across the room landing on a lamp.

[grilledcheezy92]

@aurorialwolf made a post about a kid with Sam's genetics and this hit me like lightning

Darlin's working security at a D.A.M.N. event. An aura brushes past that feels all too familiar. But they're outdoors, broad daylight. So they focus their senses in tighter, zeroing in on the familiarity. The figure is shifty, cautious, skinny, just a kid, with sandy colored hair. Almost too young to be at D.A.M.N. They murmur into their walkie that they need coverage while they step away and check something out.

The walkie clicks with a 10-4 response and they're off, keeping their own aura subdued and non-threatening as they weave through the crowd back to the familiar freelancer. They reached a hand out to stop the kid but never make contact.

"What d'you want? I ain't doin anything wrong." A familiar accent. And their eyes... Suspicious, angry.

-

Sam kept next to nothing from his life as a human. Darlin had never asked why, never needed to. But when they were moving out of the house William had given him, there had been an old box. Dusty, unmarked, and untouched until Darlin had picked it up to load it on the truck.

They didn't ask about it until they were moved in at the new place. It was the last box left. They'd both been avoiding it consciously or not.

"Pictures, mostly. Keepsakes. Everythin that reminded me of my life... before," he'd admitted when they finally asked. They could feel his core pulse with conflicting emotion.

"Can I see?"

It had taken some convincing, but he did allow them to open the box. To dig into his past and open that part of himself back up. Most of the pictures were old, an entire tiny book binder with a floral cover of them he wasn't even in. He said his Grandma had given him before he'd escaped to Dahlia. There were a few in color, old Polaroids. One of that famous (or infamous) Viper tank top fitting 'as it was supposed to' on him at 17.

But there was one thing, in all the pictures of him, that stood out. That had his words echoing in their mind from a rooftop conversation.

-

The words echo in their mind now as this kid stares them down. 'Brown. My eyes were brown.'

"Didn't say you were, Collins. Come with me, let's grab some food and talk."

"How do you know my name?"

Their response is a raised eyebrow and turning to walk off with a cock of their head, expecting curiosity to get the better of suspicion.

The walkie crackles, Christian asking when they'll be back.

"Taking lunch," is sure to cause some bitching when they finally get back but the freelancer's aura is brushing theirs again.

[itsyagurlchip]

just a lil drabble of gen z reader in the hellaverse

*for context reader is a fem gn and 17-20 yrs old but looks like a child due to their behavior and height*

"lady why do you have rice in ur tits?" the child asks, trying not to giggle at your silliness.

"MIND YO DAMN BUSINESS" You trip the child, speeding away before the mother could catch you.

-

"Guys i think Charlie is a lightskin" You sob, as you painstakingly scoop another solid colored blob of white mashed potatoes in your mouth.

"What makes you say that?"

"I never seen her touch anything other than salt and pepper and its been pissing me off" You shake your head sadly, still on the brink of tears.

"The King of Hell is literally one of the best chefs tho?"

"EXACTLY" For the rest of the night you sat in thought, banging a fist on the table at each taste of your food.

-

"THAT'S AN ICK BECAUSE THE ONLY THING THAT SHOULD BE TAKING HIS BREATH AWAY IS YOU" You were listening to Rosie's new podcast, called 'Alpha Widows', nodding along to every statement she made.

The woman was truly in the prime.

-

"Yo Loona!" You called, biting your lip.

"What." She gritted between her teeth.

"No need to get all foxy~ Whatcho cute ass doin out here?" You said flirtingly, walking slowly with your arms crossed.

She preceded to kick you in your knees, only huffing at the cries you made

[killerpillar]

from your dearest historia.

[F/F] [G] yumihisu drabble/oneshot, post-canon, afterlife, fix-it (kind of), fluff, growing old, losing memories, reunited, requited love, undying love.

wc: 1176・ ♫ sailor song - gigi perez ・ read on ao3.

. . . . . .

Historia can’t remember the shade of her eyes anymore.

Whether they were the same hue of earth or a faint, chestnut hazel. 

Whether the sunlight made them glow like gold or umber.

Whether her freckles were something she imagined, or if the memory of lying beside her on a concrete rooftop and tracing constellations across her skin was really real.

Maybe it wasn’t real, and she’s just holding on to nothing and hoping it was something.

Maybe she wasn’t real.

(She had to be real.)

(Right?)

Historia names her daughter after her.

Her husband says he likes it. He thinks it's a beautiful name.

Historia agrees. Tells him she thinks it is, too.

But he doesn’t know anything. 

He doesn’t know just how beautiful that name really is.

(It’s not his fault he doesn’t know.)

(She knows it isn’t.)

(But it still makes her bitter.)

Reiner and Connie come to visit. She lets them hold Ymir. 

They ask for her name, and she tells them.

Their faces change. 

They look at her like they pity her. 

Like there’s an apology waiting on the tip of their tongues.

She hates it. 

She hates that look.

But she pretends not to notice.

Mikasa comes too, later. Jean is with her. There’s a ring on both their fingers.

When Mikasa hears her daughter’s name, she doesn’t give Historia that face. Historia realises it’s probably because she’s the only one that understands. 

There’s something else in her eyes. 

Something familiar.

Mikasa tells her the name is fitting.

She comes by more often now. Alone.

They talk. 

They listen.

There’s things they tell each other that they tell no one else. Things nobody else would understand.

Sometimes Historia cries.

Sometimes Mikasa cries.

Most of the time, they do everything they can not to start.

Their kids get along, too. 

Somewhat.

Her daughter is older now. 

Too rowdy for her to hold on her hip.

Historia can’t remember her face anymore.

It’s only her daughter’s face she sees in her mind when she hears Ymir.

Not her’s.

She still dreams about her, though.

It's always fuzzy like her mind can’t decide on whether her skin was always so tan or if her hair was always so dark.

She can’t remember her voice anymore. 

She just remembers that it was something she used to really like hearing. Her voice would wake her up in the mornings. Tell her goodnight before the lights went out. Whisper to her under the covers after dark. Her voice called Historia’s name in a way nobody else’s ever did. 

Historia wishes she could still hear her voice.

Still see her. 

Touch her. 

Feel her.

But she can’t.

She’s not there.

Her husband doesn’t know how to comfort her.

Why would he?

He didn’t know. 

He doesn’t know.

He’s done nothing wrong.

She has.

Historia’s done a lot wrong.

She must have done everything wrong if she can’t even remember her face or her voice or her touch anymore. All the things she swore she’d never forget. The things that she thought were carved and branded into her bones, from how often she’d think about them, replay them over and over in her mind. The things she’d beg and plead and pray she wouldn’t one day forget.

But maybe she can’t blame herself that much.

Even the skies seem blurry to her, nowadays. 

There’s roses in the yard. 

She can’t see far enough to make them out anymore.

Autumn’s colours are dull.

Spring’s breeze feels stale. 

Summer can’t warm her and winter makes no difference.

Historia’s always cold nowadays. 

She spends nearly all her time in that armchair on the front porch, behind a white picket fence her husband had built, and still the sun doesn’t seem to warm her skin like it used to. 

Her daughter came home to introduce the man she was going to marry yesterday.

Or maybe it was last month.

Or last year.

Or maybe it’s already been a decade.

Historia can’t really remember. 

Soon there’s another child on her lap. 

She thinks he looks like Ymir. 

But not her Ymir. 

… her Ymir?

She wonders who her Ymir was.

She remembers she loved her Ymir. 

Loves.

She loves her Ymir.

Yes. 

Her Ymir with the golden eyes and the sunkissed skin and freckled cheeks.

Her Ymir who wrote her the letter with the faded ink and the words she can no longer make out, but somehow still read.

Her Ymir, who wanted to marry her dear Historia.

Yes.

Historia remembers, now.

She murmurs something about her Ymir.

Her daughter answers. 

Historia can’t understand why it feels so wrong to see her daughter’s face and not her.

… Her?

Who?

Her… someone.

She’s forgotten again.

Forgotten…

Who?

Maybe it was nothing.

Or maybe it was her everything.

She doesn’t know. 

She can’t remember again. 

Historia’s eyes feel heavy.

Everything seems dark

Maybe the sun had set. 

Maybe that's why the lights had all gone out.

Maybe that’s why she can’t feel anything anymore.

Maybe that’s why her fingertips are so numb and cold.

Historia wishes she could see the sun again.

Her sun.

Something featherlight brushes her cheeks. She could’ve mistaken it for the wind, if it hadn’t been for the warmth of the touch.

Historia opens her eyes, and it feels like her first time truly seeing.

She sees colour. 

She sees light.

She can see again. 

It’s golden and beautiful and warm against her skin. She thinks she’s lying on a field of flowers. The grass under her fingertips is soft against her skin. Petals of all the most beautiful colours. The sky is the bluest she remembers it has ever been. 

… She can remember again.

She can breathe with all her lungs again.

She feels young and new again.

She hears a voice call out her name.

For a second, Historia doesn’t understand why her chest grows so tight and why everything seems to fade from around her, just at the sound of it. Why it feels like it’s everything she’s ever wanted to hear. Why there’s heat swelling in her eyes and why everything is going blurry again. 

She turns. 

Amber eyes meet hers. 

Dark hair sways in the wind. 

Freckles like stars pepper her cheeks.

Freckles.

Yes.

Historia remembers now.

How could she ever have forgotten?

Ymir calls her name again.

Historia feels like it's her first time ever hearing her own name.

It was her Ymir. 

Her sun. 

Her lover. 

Her every sin and every happiness. 

Her every mistake and every victory. 

Her Ymir.

Historia takes her hand. 

She tells her Ymir she’s never letting go.

Never again.

Ymir laughs.

Historia’s never heard a sound more beautiful.

She tells her ymir she’s serious and to stop laughing at her, even though Historia wouldn’t mind hearing that laugh on repeat even for aeons.

Ymir manages to stop laughing somehow, smiles, and says she believes her— yes, really, she did.

Tucks a lock of golden hair behind her ears and says she won’t let go of her, either.

Ever again?

Ever again.

.

[kartaylirnaak]

Knowing You Now

Cody/Rex/Echo/Fives

Explicit, No Archive Warnings

Summary: Unlike Fives, Rex actually knows how to use a towel, and is only slightly damp, rather than dripping all over the floor.

—

A collection of scenes about Cody, Rex, Echo, and Fives, and the moments between them as they fight to save as many clones as they can.

Tags: Drabbles of different lengths, Fives Lives, Clone Rebellion, Light Angst, Reunions, Poly Clones, Introspection, Canon Disabled Character, Caretaking, Medical Inaccuracies, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Canon Typical Violence, Whump, Injuries, Slice of Life, Domestic Fluff, Light-Hearted, Hand Job, Somnophilia, BDSM, Nipple Clamps, Cock & Ball Torture, Gags, Leases, Impact Play, Collar, Leather, Pain, S&M, Restraints, Top Fives, Bottom Cody, Dom Fives, Sub Rex, Dom Echo, Dom Rex, Sub Cody

Note: A lot of this is quite gen, apart from the bits that aren’t 😂 Check the Author's Notes on Ao3 for where to skip the smut, if that's not your thing.

[imaginethesepages]

in-game or in real life.

There is no such thing as a day off when you are fighting kaijus that spontaneously appear and terrorize the nation. Officers are being summoned left and right the moment these monsters appear — whether you are in the shower, in the middle of a good sleep, or during your off day. You have no right to dilly-dally when the citizens require help, especially not if you are Narumi Gen, the Captain of the First Division of the Defense Force.

So, when Narumi’s off day comes, he prays to the gods above that no monsters show themselves — they can do it tomorrow or the day after. He'll take care of them no matter how often they want to appear. Just. Not. Today!

His bloodshed eyes shift from the door to his phone to the door again. The time reads: 9:59 AM.

Just a minute away from open doors, sixty seconds before all hell breaks loose; and he, the Strongest Anti-Kaiju Combatant, will win!

Narumi rushes through the doors, bodies shoving each other, all heading in one direction: the stand of the newest and most sought-after game of the year!

“Out of my way!” Narumi screams like he is in a death race and everyone is an enemy. He reaches for the few stocks left, his hand barely grazing the game console, only for him to grab something different. “What!?”

“Let go of me.” A lady with electric blue eyes smacks his grip away. She stands there, glaring before grabbing the last remaining game and dashing to the counter to pay.

He was dumbfounded, standing alone while the entire shop went into chaos. For a split second, he felt like everything went into pause. “W-Wait, that’s m-mine! That game is mine!”

She turns around, clutching the already-paid game console with her tongue sticking out. Her face clearly says, “I win! Better luck next time!” as she passes through the store doors.

And Narumi knows he lost. He lost the most sought-after game of the year and finds himself lost in those deep ocean eyes. But he knows he’ll meet her again soon — in-game or in real life.

me: *throws confetti a narumi gen drabble* also me (after posting): should i do a part two?

i mean, it did say yes to playing again so... maybe, just maybe. i'll put a part two for this if i come up with something lol.

also, i write drabbles for other fandoms, or i'll write drabbles for other fandoms 😉🏐🍀, but if you want to read a ray (the promised neverland) drabble just go to my tumblr or click here✨

anyway, enjoyyy xx

[dilucsrevenge]

no but imagine alhaitham with his legs spread wide open for you, hands bound to the headboard of your bed fully on display for you. his hips are littered with bite marks and hickeys you’ve left on him this evening, his mouth never closing as he lets out breathy sighs with every touch.

your next attack is on his thighs. his weak spot, the one area you quickly found out was one of his most sensitive places. not only do you love leaving marks on the inside of his thighs, but you love seeing him jump and react to the pleasure of the slowly fading bruises being pressed on each time he sits or shifts in his chair.

every little whimper and whine and moan of your name reassures you that he loves the feeling of your teet sinking into his flesh. a few times you’ve accidentally drawn blood from the bites on his hips and he just look mesmerized, your red-tinted lips coming up to meet his in a heated kiss that earns even more soft moans from alhaitham.

[yxstxrdrxxm-a]

SYNOPSIS: Kazuha, a well-known tailor in Inazuma, had a spouse. It's only a shame that his spouse is known for their 'infidelity' in his eyes. [ songfic ]

TW/S: Yandere tendencies, stalking, minor and major character death/s, emotional manipulation in a way, gore, violence, fire/arson, sewing... questionable fabric, unreliable narrator, shifting POVs, dead dove: do not eat, dollification, delusional thinking, Kazuha progressively loses it till the end, beheading, oh God this fic and tws are long Im so sorry―

NOTE: During the fic, it is recommended to listen to "The Tailor of Enbizaka". It will make sense when you read through this fic :)

(also, I apologize if this took a while for me to write. I got busy and writer's block hit me :( anyways, second work and its the best boy! Though, I hope you all don't blame me for fucking him up. Also also!! This is very much a long, LONG fic— like 2k+ long, so 🫡 gl soldier, I'll see if I don't need to make this to a 2 part series)

(update: this fic took 6k words, good luck y'all, this one is a WILD ride)

In Inazuma, there is a tale that is shared by many about a crimson clad man and his lover.

The others never settled on what he looked during the day before his death, nor were they sure what his prior job was before he became a tailor. However, they always complimented him for his looks and his skill, knowing that whatever he used as his own special fabric would be tailored and taken care of well.

Even with one full of holes and tears, he is gifted with the ability to patch them up till it was brand new. In the village he lived in, he was regarded for having such a talent, and he had his shop open and full of visitors.

However, the only thing that made people question him was his behavior. Despite how mild-manner the tailor was, he often comments on how his beloved darling refused to come home and continues to cheat on him.

Many those that still lived during the time said the crimson-eyed tailor acted delusional, but just how far can those delusions go?

No one knows but the man himself... And the one who persecuted him, too.

It was that year since I've seen my beloved after the accident.

A year that, when I saw them, I've longed to see them and speak to them about our time together as a married couple.

To begin with, I am Kaedehara Kazuha, or― as the townsfolk here call me, the 'Crimson-Eyed Tailor'. Although I am highly regarded for my craftsmanship, many told me that I am odd for my adoration for my beloved maple.

Why is it that odd? I thought all married couples do this, even if some think that it feels off.

Besides that, however, my darling isn't quite aware of my... Endeavors. More specifically, their streak of getting out for hours, perhaps days and weeks, and not even coming around to speak to me.

I am bound to them by an oath when we were married: we both drank sake together under that faithful light of the moon, with only nature watching over us. However, it would seem as if they have forgotten that, and ended up cheating on me in broad daylight.

Like they had no such shame.

Alas, I am but their husband, and I can't simply get mad at my beloved spouse. I know they did no wrong, for they sometimes meet with others as an act of being 'friendly'.

So while I focused on fixing the kimono, I've began to hear something that had been passed around in the village.

Something related to my darling's little ventures.

"I have spoken to [Name] about the matters in their marriage recently," one of the ladies spoke, her voice not so soft enough to conceal who she was speaking about as I fixed the fabric in my hands.

"And from what they told me, they're getting their kimono fixed for when their lover returns home!"

I simply continued on sewing, but the lady's next words had me flinch.

"Ah, they've been married for years, aren't they? And it seems they even have their shiromuku ever since their marriage to sir Kamisato Ayato. How romantic!"

...

The blood continues to spill on my finger, with the needle that I used pricking it when I've lost focus and got too careless.

How uncouth.

From the tale shared by the folks of Narukami Island, they talked about the crimson-eyed tailor's marriage with his supposed 'spouse': an immigrant of sorts from Fontaine, traversing to Inazuma to meet with their lover.

Their relationship together is strange. From the accounts of those with prying eyes, they said that he was the only one putting an effort to their relationship, and they wished to take it slow.

However, there are those that disagreed, saying that it had been the other way around— and it was he who wished for them to slow down.

No one can decide what the tailor had done, for they can't even tell if his desires were to rush or to slow down. But what can be confirmed is one thing everyone kept saying.

He doesn't like his trust being broken.

It had been days after hearing what I did.

I hadn't seen my dearest beloved in those days, and the day I saw them had been when the heir of the Kamisato clan had returned.

I had been busy as ever in sewing till I realized that I'm running out of thread. I don't have any spares, and I'm well aware that there are a few shops that sell supplies for sewing.

And so, on a lazy afternoon, I've got out of my shop in the hopes that I can catch the store to buy the supplies I needed.

The soft sound of wood hitting the pavement greeted my ears, alongside hushed murmuring and discussing with the commonfolk. I greeted a few that noticed me in passing, but they were swift to return to the people they were speaking to prior.

It was a mundane thing, really. But it was the type that felt familiar.

Turning a few corners, I managed to locate the shop I was looking for. Walking up the stairs, I waved at the lady taking care of the store—

—not before my ears perked up at the soft chattering in the distance.

My eyes trailed over to the source, and then, I see them.

My beloved maple.

I saw that they were conversing with the heir of the Kamisato clan, his hand reaching over to hand them a small gift: a small box, with the ribbon being the color of purple. I spot the gleam of gold on top of the ribbon, which eludes me to think that it is the insigna of the clan crested in gold.

How tacky.

I had to hold back the urge to stop them as their conversation was hard to discern, my focus back on the woman running the shop with the supplies I require.

"Hello, madame," I greeted, making the woman smile and nod in greeting as well. "Do you need fabric again, Kaedehara?"

I chuckled, but it was only to mask the bits of instability in my voice.

"Oh, not fabric, madame. I simply desire thread. I have ran out of red and black, and I didn't want to delay the commission I had from monsieur Lyney. Do you have any right now?"

"Red and black thread, hm? I can check at the back. Please give me a moment to look."

With a bow, the seamstress turned around to leave. With that, I let go of the breath I held and turned my gaze back to the bridge, just a few ways away from where my beloved sunset was at.

Watching the two figures, I couldn't help but simply stared at the attire that the heir wore.

Montsuki Haori Hakama: that usually means black or gray. I've known that colored kimonos were not worn with this in mind, and he certainly didn't wore anything that would be too straining.

Still, that shade of black is made of high quality. I'm not surprised if he wore it so rarely, as though to preserve the detail and its intricate work from his very own seamstress.

...

I wonder if I can take it?

Watching the two descend from the bridge, my eyes wandered back to the lady as she returned with the spools of thread, all varying in degrees of color and quality.

"Here you are, Kaedehara! These are the best I can find that fit the colors you asked for."

My eyes twinkled as I took the spools to my hands, my fingers turning and nudging the thread to see just how strong it is.

Interesting. Good quality, too... Maybe I can use this to finish that outfit I've been saving for a while.

"Thank you, madame," I thanked her, making her laugh. "Oh, it's not a problem, Kaedehara! You've done so much for this little town of ours, this is but a simple thing to repay for your efforts!"

With a nod, I paid the seamstress and turned back down to descend from the bustling upper part of the town, the sight of what happened in the bridge a bit further away bothering me from within.

No matter, Kazuha, I mused, carrying the items I required as I felt myself walk back home. Even if you want to get rid of him, it will be much too complicated. You simply need to be patient and wait till the opportunity comes.

...

Although, whoever made his clothes... I wonder if I can speak to them to inquire about their techniques.

The first case that started this was a cold one.

One that is related to a person no one knew so highly about, be it by their background, appearance, and even their name. All they were known for is being the 'tailor' for one of the clans.

There had been a lack of evidence and information about this due to how many tailors had been requested all across Inazuma at the time. It was understandable that people chalked up to them being missing as nothing more than an unfortunate case, not one worthy of being dug into.

Others had suspected that it had been associated with something else, that something (or someone) had done this deliberately. There was no evidence to this, but their claims were loud as they were bold, making it difficult to ascertain its authenticity.

However, the masses have all agreed that this was a normal occurrence. It was not one worth noting, because there had been a lot more that spoke of the same tale, always eluding to their fate being that they were murdered.

It was, unfortunately, the 'norm' of the village in the legend. A norm that, if the people of Inazuma heard it today, would have turned their heads in disgust for how abhorrent it sounds.

Still, many remained curious of the biggest what if that seem to echo in their mind.

Was the tailor associated with his sins?

The Kamisato clan has had it's ups and downs, and it isn't strange to see that they were seeking out talented tailors and workers to work under them.

What was surprising (to everyone), however, was that the head of the clan hired me to work as the Kamisato Clan's personal tailor.

The reasoning behind it was quite simple, especially with what the heir spoke to me when he and I met in the morning when I was to be summoned in the estate— due to his personal tailor (a family friend, he said) going missing for days, they were unable to track down his whereabouts and presumed that he has gone missing.

I was only hired as a "replacement" for the clan's special tailor till then, and he made it extremely clear that there was nothing else to it. Nothing that would spell the fact that I will permanently stay in that position.

Of course, to many, this may sound as an odd deal. There are so many tailors such as myself that would die to be consulted on, to work as the head of the clan's seamstress and work for their outfits. And perhaps, in their naivety, they may consider it as their efforts finally paying off in some way.

However, I have been in a clan myself before. This is nothing more if not a business deal.

A deal between one rising clan, and one whose surname has lost it's widely known heritage.

This only benefits the Kamisato Clan in the effort to save face. To save face of the potential backlash they'll deal with should any information of the missing clan's tailor be brought to light to everyone who remain blissfully ignorant of the innerworkings of the clan.

I would normally deny this kind of offer, mostly because there is no benefit for me to join and work for them. However, times have changed, and I simply reconsidered denying Kamisato Ayato's offer.

... There is a few benefits to me joining. It may be minimal, but it is better than scrounging around in the dark.

And so, I agreed to the offer.

The arrangements set for me to move was quite swift. I'm aware that that he is a man of his word, so it was quite easy for us to prepare my living arrangements and move to the estate.

With the supplies I get from the clan, it's been easy to stay put and gather information to the person I'm targeting.

... That was, until that day came.

I remember it clearly: it was the ends of fall, where the maple leaves fell more and more around the estate's grounds. This usually signified the coming of winter, so I usually savor the season by having time off to admire the scenery.

And in one of my walks, I had travelled from outside of the estate to see if things have changed.

Which, to my luck, I've encountered my darling beloved.

But just like last time, they were not alone.

In the journey of my wandering, I have seen them speak to the sibling of the older heir, Kamisato Ayaka, as they sit on the table outside of the Komore Teahouse.

From how far I am to the entrance of the teahouse, it gives me enough space to watch them interact like friends. The way that the Himegimi raised her fan to cover her face, perhaps from her eyes crinkling in amusement from what they told her...

... It was intriguing. Very intriguing.

So much so that I've felt the claws of envy grip in my chest, clutching its metal nails and making punctures on my already bleeding heart.

What a nuisance. Must you hurt me like this, darling?

I can hardly remember what happened after that. After all, my focus had been set on the two speaking to each other like they were simply companions, unknowing of what fate may bring upon them.

...

"Oh? Kazuha! I didn't notice you came to the Teahouse as well!"

My attention was swiftly pulled away from the sight of my dearest gem, and it landed on the familiar sight of olive eyes. From the appearance alone, many wouldn't think that an immigrant of Mondstadt would be a fixer.

Not even I would be able to see it happen.

However, this man had the skills to prove of his worth— after all, being Inazuma's 'fixer', he's often the go-to man to fix any and every problem that the Narukami Island and others may face.

Which makes him a glass canon— one that is volatile and unpredictable, even under the guise of a friendly face.

That is what Thoma is.

But this "glass cannon" has his weakness, and I know how to use it to my advantage.

Letting a smile slip to my lips, I chuckled, raising my hand to cover my mouth. "Well, I've been foretold by others about Komore Teahouse and it's history. I've been meaning to visit it, but I'm so busy fixing kimonos and making them to have time to spare."

A white lie, but then again, there are many of those that have been foretold in the waking of this world.

What does adding one do at this point? I'm already damned by the heavens the day I've seen the 'truth' of this fate of mine.

Just one lie wouldn't hurt, right?

"Haha, I can't blame you," the taller blonde seem to answer my query with his own, albeit he did seem to look more like he was at ease. Still, I needed to be weary; he can change sides if he so much as sensed that something is wrong.

"After all, with what the missing tailor in the clan circulating around the others in the estate, I'm even surprised that you manage to fill up in their position for months!"

... Oh? So he's noticed my talents, hm?

I shook my head.

"Oh, please. I'm just a humble tailor, Thoma," I reasoned, letting out a heavy sigh. "I have thought of asking them for advice on how they do their work, but since they're missing, all I can do is substitute for their absence."

He gave me an apologetic smile and nodded.

"That is true... I guess I'm just a bit too ecstatic to finally have someone that can fill in their role seamlessly. Lord Kamisato Ayato would've been panicking if we didn't have a replacement soon for his anniversary with his spouse."

... Spouse, huh?

"Hm... Is that so?"

I frowned in thought as I ponder over wanting to... Ask him for a favor. Sure, this one wouldn't do well on one's conscious mind if they knew, but it was simply for their sake.

It was all for them. I knew that.

It wouldn't hurt anyone if I asked Thoma to do this for me. At least, while I still have the chance to do so.

I can only hope the cannon does not think of shooting it's shot to me if I slipped up.

"Speaking of, Thoma, may I ask you for a favor?"

After the first missing case of the tailor, there had been more that were reported. The victims were all varied in their appearance, age, and even from where they used to live, be it in Narukami Island or even outside of Inazuma itself.

It was difficult to tell how many there were exactly, especially with how the legend is interpreted. Some said it was 20, while others said it was 50. This legend has been passed mouth to mouth, so details were not a key figure for a few to remember well.

However, every iteration has the same detail. The victims all had the same similarity as the tailor that simply went "missing".

All of them, in some way, were associated with certain individuals— one of them being his maple, where a few commented that they were the apple of the crimson man's eye.

From the legend and how it has been told, it is safe to assume that the motive was obvious from the first missing case.

It is akin of an open secret, if said secret was twisted to fit his ideals.

"Haven't you heard?"

"What? What is it?"

"The fixer, Thoma… He went missing just few days ago."

"What!?"

…

Ah, so he went missing like the others?

My ears had perked up at the news that we were told. Although Thoma is one many people never thought of being a 'target', the fact he went missing is... Odd.

"Perhaps he had done something," I heard one of the servants whisper amongst themselves, looking rather cautious. "After all, he's been very privy on a few things..."

"Yes, but he isn't the person I'd expect to vanish like that—"

"Shh—! People are going to hear you, you know! Keep it down!"

Hearing their footsteps echo as they take their leave, I turned back to what I have been working on. The sight of the kimono graced my vision as I raised the needle.

I began to sew the tears on it, letting out a soft hum while I fixed the black fabric from it's horrible state.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut—

"Sir Kaedehara? Someone is looking for you."

...!

I felt the needle prick my finger, but I didn't say anything. With a quiet hum, I raised my head to see someone speak to me, their face grim as they shifted on their feet.

Ah.

Despite the feeling of blood pour onto the fabric, I smiled and nodded, putting down the fabric of the kimono I was fixing.

"I'll be right there. Please tell them to wait for me."

"Really? Oh, thank Archons. I'll get going."

Watching them take their leave, my eyes flit over to my scissors.

Still as sharp as ever, I mused, pushing myself to stand up before fixing my attire. Mayhaps today won't need it to be sharpened.

For now, I had to see what the client wants from me. It would simply be a shame if I leave them alone for far, far too long.

Mayhaps they're here to inquire about the kimono I made. I made sure to add my personal touch to it.

...

As I walked to where my client sought to look for me, I see a familiar sight befell in the grounds of the Kamisato Estate.

The himegimi is currently speaking to my betrothed like they are close companions, and the magician (Lyney was his name, I recall), had been listening to their discussion at hand.

His eyes seem to lit up when he saw me, offering me a welcoming grin.

"You must be the tailor that my sister assigned, aren't you?" he asked when I was close enough to hear him, making me chuckle. Taking a seat across, I simply nodded, keeping my professional smile and demeanor in fear of offending him.

"Indeed, I am that tailor. My name is Kaedehara Kazuha, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Haha, please, the pleasure is all mine!"

The magician shook my hand with mine, and the meeting went as smoothly as one may expect. Although, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander sometimes to where my lover is.

You were speaking to Ayaka like she's a friend of yours. I shan't stop you, darling, but perhaps you aren't aware of the pain you put me through.

Still, I couldn't afford to raise my voice, nor can I think of hurting you with my actions.

How unfortunate. Mayhaps I need to teach you a lesson myself, my angel.

If there was one thing that the legend failed to elaborate, it is the state of the missing people. However, there were... Creative liberties to those that began to see if the legend was true; or, pray tell, associated with any real life events.

To the eyes of others, going missing is a serious deal. It sparks a lot of ideas for what could've happened to them, and especially if they are alive or dead.

Albeit many shrugged off the prior cases, this one was serious. After all, the one that went 'missing' is the fixer of Narukami Island— Thoma, the immigrant in the nation of lightning.

It is, after all, what sparked the eventual downfall of the crimson-eyed tailor and his beloved. Many had thought this was the turning point, but those that did were found to be wrong.

This, after all, was simply the beginning of such downfall. But it wasn't to his lover, the missing residents, or even his companions.

It was to himself, when he used the blades to commit a sin undeserving of forgiveness.

The news that brought upon the missing Himegimi greeted the Kamisato estate that day.

I remember how people were in a disarray. They were much more shaken as they tried to get any sort of lead to where she is, and for some, they were already thinking of quitting.

The estate is already shaken from when Thoma went missing, but now that the young heiress has up and disappeared— especially in winter— it was in chaos.

While I sew the kimonos handed to me, there was an obi that laid on the pile by my right. It was a bit worn, but it can still be saved.

I needed to fix it, and give it my own personal touch. That way, it wouldn't look as though it had been abandoned by it's past owner.

Alas, the noise is getting to me. I could feel the silk resting on my bandaged hand slip every once in a while, if it weren't for how tight I've been holding the fabric.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

I needed to put my focus on what I'm doing. I needed to focus on the job.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

I mustn't let blood nor dirt stain my creations.

That is what my mother taught me.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, se—

"I apologize if the estate is in a disarray, detective," I hear a familiar voice speak amongst the hushed and panicked whispers. "The estate hasn't been the same ever since my retainer and my younger sibling had gone missing."

"Oh, it's alright! I'm sure this matter is too serious for you and the others to keep things organized."

"Haha... You can say that it is. Now, it's just right this way..."

... A detective is in the estate. How curious.

It wasn't right to snoop, but I was curious. Curious enough to have finished the kimono I was fixing before I stood to leave my quarters.

The others paid no heed as I followed after the two to Ayato's room, too focused to do what they were assigned to even bat an eye when I got close to where they were heading.

It was only when they were inside that I've stopped and simply bid my time, my focus set on what was happening by the shoji leading to his office. And it didn't took long till I hear things from the other side.

"Ah, so you think that someone is out for you?"

"Yes. Although I am normally adept in figuring out who it could be that's causing this to happen, I can't put heads or tails with how their presence eludes me."

"Man alive... And you said that it started when they went missing?"

"... Yes, detective."

"I see... Man alive, that sounds like it wasn't just a single, one-off case, then. I can help you, but this will take a while if there's no leads."

"I see. It's fine, detective. I'll pay you enough when you figure out where my retainer and sister are. I could hardly think that someone would take them without such consequence."

"Oh, no worries. With me around, no criminal will get out unscathed— I'll make sure to bring them here when I figure out who did this."

...

I see.

Perhaps its about time I have to settle this with him.

There was a time where I have thought that things will change.

Where these cases will be laid forgotten, perhaps even unresolved with the lack of hints.

I spent weeks on end, keeping my tracks short and erasing any leads that can lead towards me again.

I spent so, so long trying so desperately to hide anything resembling my crimes.

But alas... He found me.

It was the time where I had to dispose of those bodies. Although I had no heart to bury them under nature, I was not above treating them as though they were simply people.

Even in death, I wanted to make them feel like they look peaceful. Although, perhaps simply sewing their wounds left by my scissors was not something I can treat.

In the middle of the night, I was carrying the Himegimi outside of the abandoned houses I tend to with her retainer, Thoma. I had thought of letting her rest someplace else. Her attire has been sullied, and I needed to keep the two somewhere where no one can find them.

Corpses rot over time, and if it was possible, letting them turn to nothing in the likes of Tsurumi Island will be enough for my weary heart to rest.

With how adept I am of keeping my tracks hidden, I had thought no one would be able to tail on me. But alas, due to the missing cases I've caused, perhaps I wasn't expecting this to happen.

"I knew you'd be here, Kaedehara Kazuha."

I simply paused upon hearing his voice, my head craning back to see that it was Ayato. Despite how composed he looks, I can tell that the nights he spent trying to search for his beloved sibling and retainer wore him down.

His once flawless appearance was nothing but sullied, his attire feeling like its simply hanging off of him, and the way he staggered while looking at me without a shred of restrain is new. Raw for such a heir.

"And that body..." he murmured, his eyes glaring daggers when he found out who it was.

Perhaps it's her dress that makes her recognizable. Or the hair.

"... I thought I've erased everything that can lead back to me," I spoke, sighing as I placed Ayaka's body down. "What a shame. I was quite close to erasing any traces and signs of their whereabouts. It would be nice to only have them be marked as 'missing', not dead."

"So... You admit to it, then?" the heir asked, walking over with stride. "That you have done this, Kaedehara?"

I simply said nothing.

And I knew that was enough of a confirmation for him.

"I knew something was wrong with you," I heard him speak, which caught my attention. Turning my body to finally face him, I watched as he scoffed and continued, "After all, a man as serene as you often had the worst to hide."

"Oh? How curious. Why would you say that?"

I saw his lips curl to a smile.

"Why, I had someone tail after you," he answered, his tone sounding so blunt and his demeanor became more like he's simply 'teaching' me something. "Someone that is associated with the clan. I'm sure you know who it is."

... How uncouth.

"I see... And you confronted me now? For what?"

"A duel."

He unsheathed his blade, and raised it towards my direction.

"I do not usually participate in these, but I'd like to honor your tradition. If I win, you turn yourself in to the Tenryou Commission. Confess all of your crimes, and we shall call it even."

"... Very well."

I raised my own blade, as a sign to his own.

"I needn't state my own terms if I lose, as I can't let you get out alive. Now, let us settle this matter... To each of our graves."

Usually, such details cannot be recreated from interpretation alone.

However, this one was the few exceptions to it's inevitable fate due to it's popularity.

The legend had focused on keeping the existence and ties of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor up for the listener's interpretation. This scene, however, was directly associated to a case that had been tackled many years ago.

The case went as such: each resident of a town goes missing each week. No one knows when it happens, as the day is often random. The victims of these disappearances are also random, so no one could derive from it being a 'pattern'.

No matter how young or old one is, their gender, their living conditions, and even their past... When they least expect it, they simply vanish. Erased.

The only times where the victim was found, several eye-witnesses had different iterations. Some said that the bodies were buried, while others found it floating by riverbanks and the side of the sea.

But the most common— and widely known, of course— was that each victim were made to a doll.

Their limbs were nothing if not sewn with thread, cuts of various degrees being patched with thread of similar color to 'mask' it's oddity. Their eyes were closed, but those that were unfortunate to open it were only greeted with it being turned to the back of their heads.

In some victims, several pieces of their possession were taken. However, most kept theirs on their person, and were seen to not be tampered with.

No one knows what drove someone to this degree. No one can even comprehend such a fact that it was entirely possible.

But to someone who's mind was twisted to the point of no return... It was.

This case had a name, but every resident of Inazuma refused to speak of it. Each time one does, they were told of the legend behind this case.

They were told of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, and they were warned of one thing.

"Do not look at him or his betrothed. If you do, you're as good as dead."

...

It had been a year since our fight happened.

I remember the chaos that occurred back when I finally erased that man. Although it did left his body in an undesirable state, I still fixed and sew him up so that he didn't look as such.

Even in death, I wish to give the heir some form of dignity. That, in some way, I wish to give him his final respects.

After all, he had simply misunderstood my intentions. He didn't knew that I was out for one person from the very beginning.

The downfall of the Kamisato Clan was imminent at that point. I've seen many flee, and witnessed the tragedy befall on the Narukami Island. Many of the people I've met had simply ran off to seek refuge, the terror grasping and choking them like they were unable to think.

However, I remain clear. And I simply continued to do my work diligently.

I have been working on something... Special. And with one last snip of my bloodied scissors, it was now complete.

My final and life-long work, all laid across and now in my hands. The fabric I chose was rather difficult to sew. I should have known that human skin would be too hard, depending on where I retrieved it from.

Dying it in black, I wrapped the obi that had been sewn with the use of the Himegimi's locks, and retrieved the crest of the Kamisato Clan. Adorning it on my person, I viewed myself at the mirror to see my handiwork.

"Finally," I murmured, feeling an odd sensation in my chest as I wore the fruits of my labor. "It is now complete."

With the chaos guiding me and masking my presence, I fled to head by the mountain.

I knew where you were bound to go.

I knew of your crimes long before you knew me.

I didn't paid much attention if anyone saw me. I didn't care if blood simply poured from my attire and to the ground that I'm walking on. I could hardly give a damn if some realized of my crimes in that blasted estate.

I had my scissors with me, and I only wish to fulfill my last wish before I leave this cursed world.

You murdered my family, [Name].

You were the one who caused that fire all those years ago.

I remember those burns you gave me. I remember just how much of a coward you were, fleeing from the scene you caused yourself.

How could I lose everything? And how can you keep your family?

No. No, that mustn't happen. I must set this right.

As your 'lover', I'll make sure you understand what you did wrong.

The culprit of the legend was caught, at least by the end.

All of the townsfolk had banded over to help the detective figure out who had caused such a stir, and it was only because of one eye-witness that said everything. That simply told the truth of the man behind it all.

It was the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, the one who was gripped with envy, that caused such a massacre to occur.

When they found what became of the last victim, his 'lover', they became a doll of his own. After killing them, the legend proceeded to speak of how he had simply 'sown' their skin alongside his, making them his perfect beloved doll.

One of the iterations even mentioned that his unnamed lover was in a Shiromuku outfit, eyes gouged so they may "never look at another man". At least, from what the tale has concluded.

Because of the severity of his crime, the tailor was sent to be on his death row. When the detective tried to get information out of him, they found out that he has lost his mind.

He became a shell of the brilliant man they knew, laughing and speaking that he has finally fulfilled his desire.

Even when he was dragged onto the guillotine, that day was marked as the end of the massacre, and those who were alive spoke of the man's chilling laughter up until his head was cut off.

...

And that was the end of the "Crimson-Eyed Tailor" and his legend.

Or, more accurately, the history of the known "Dead Man's Heart" case, and how Kaedehara Kazuha murdered the one he "loved" for revenge.

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2023