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inupinggu · 2 years

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-ˏˋ LOVE-ON⠀♡⠀NISHIMURA RIKI ˊˎ-

PROMPT! riki as your cute high school crushie ><

PAIRING! nishimura riki x reader

GENRE! high school romance - fluff! fluff! fluff!

NOTE! this will be based in japan our riki's home country and will use honorifics because. cringe? maybe? you're 😪 riki's 😁 + by far the most random and mixed up idk drabble? i wrote. this is like, me telling seven stories while trying to only tell one. longer than i intentionally wanted it to be :(

classmate! riki who will follow you anywhere within the school like a happy puppy that has found a new owner. who monitors your schedule so he knows what classes you don't share together. so that he knows when and in which room he will wait for you every time you finish class before lunch or before going home so that you have someone with you.

classmate! riki who will sit at the same table as you at the library when you try to review for the sole purpose of making your blood boil. the type of a classmate who would do funny expressions whenever you try to be serious.

you sat at a library table alone in the midst of the week to review for an upcoming marked five star quiz on the following week with buds stuck to your ears to muffle the noise around you. “while many quantum experiments examine very small objects, such as electro–” you cut yourself off with a sigh and closed eyes the moment you felt someone with long limbs plop themselves on the empty space beside you. “hey girlie,” riki grins with ups and downs of his eyebrow. his right hand extended vertically while the other that rests on top forms an inverted L shape for his head to lean on, he stares at you. “just kidding. keep going, i won't make a noise or whatever to interrupt you.”

classmate! riki who will pop out of nowhere to pull random shit he has under his sleeves. it be a deez nuts joke, a very disturbing ‘did you know’ trivia, or just him challenging you on random duels with prizes.

“i'm gonna get a higher score than you on the quiz tomorrow.” a face suddenly appeared from your right while you were walking. “oh, that scared me!” you jumped surprised like how a normal person would act to something of the sort. “can't you just let your presence be known normally?”

classmate! riki who would use his stop at the convenience store to accompany you on a walk home under the orange-y rays of the setting sun. the walk together embraced by silence except for the meek sound of your simultaneous step.

"i believe that your house is that way, riki-san," interfering the silence of the atmosphere, you elaborated. pointing at the left corner of the road. only for him to muster an expression of someone who learned a new information, eyes squinted with the corner of his lips curving while nodding slowly, “hmm... interesting.”

classmate! riki whose ‘prizes’ in duels progress into suggesting something. from him wanting you to cover his lunch for a whole week to him asking you on a date.

"if i get a higher score on our science test tomorrow, will you let me take you out on a date?" riki's laid back tone made you turn your buffled gaze to his direction catching that he isn't even looking at you. what surprised you was the unusually calm demeanor he was holding right now. his school back wrapped across his torso with his hands stuck deep inside his pocket, striding suavely.

classmate! riki who tries to look cool by stating quotes he found on the internet and testing it out with the most philosophical tone a teenage jokester could muster.

"okay, you can try.” his head whipped to his left where you stood after hearing the words that left your pretty lips. he wasn't expecting you to agree.

classmate! riki who knows that because of your stupid rivalry, his whole school life has been improving. he studies more often to beat you during exams and quizzes, he will attend school earlier to spite you and goes to his soccer practices more than once in a while because he needs his extracurricular.

classmate! riki who is considered smart by his other classmates that when questioned; ‘is nishimura riki smart?’ they'd say yes with no hesitation but would follow up with a; ‘he's just a bit of a menace who doesn't know how to use his knowledge properly.’

classmate! riki who's the menace you have a crush on! but you won't let him know because if you do his ego would rocket beyond the roof like his height.

"here's my stop," you smiled at him. his orbs that nearly matched the color of his hair gazed upon yours. a deep hum was his only response. muttering a small thank you with a small bow, you turned on your heels ready to open the gate not until riki spoke. “where's my kiss?”

classmate! riki who thrives on the way you get flustered every time he does something that he knows would make someone's heartbeat race. whose way of being friendly is straight out flirting, obvious and fun. he denies the assumption.

classmate! riki whose real way of flirting is not the obvious and fun, but the way of flirting that catches you off guard and leaves you a blushing mess. he does it all subconsciously.

"sure, you thanked me," he started. "but a kiss would be more worth it," he added. his teasing tone wasn't even helping causing the earlier's shade of pink on your face to deepen. "hey, no one asked you to walk me home," you deadpanned. "don't come at me asking for returns, dumbass." you stuck your tongue out at his suave act which was cut off by your brutal honesty. now he was the one who's flustered.

classmate! riki who will whine about everything. he will not leave you alone, not until you give his prize. who will sulk outside your gate all pouty with his arm crossed over his chest. the type to occasionally huff loudly when he notices you still hadn't made it inside the door of your house without giving him his kiss when he voluntarily walks you home.

"do your best at the exam tomorrow," your honey coated whispered sent shivers down the male's spine. his heart was pounding. super loud he was afraid you might hear it. and him without knowing that yours was as loud as his. the closeness. the contacts. these were all new for the both of you. ‘you're getting bold’ he thought.

classmate! riki who gets daily bonks from you to shaken his brain.

“go home, dumbass!” the bonk you gave him seems to work. riki rubbed the part of his head that got hit as he hissed. meanwhile, you stood there averting eye contact with the boy in front of you.

classmate! riki who just walks away after flustering you with a pat on the head after giving you bento boxes nicely wrapped in cute patterned fabrics or his blurted words that make blood rush to your cheeks and ears. (this boi is uncomfy with the prospect of you not having proper meals on time.)

classmate! riki who's almost always barely on time. be it his morning classes or soccer practices, he's always got something to do before he does what he actually needs to do.

just when the teacher was about to distribute the test papers, an exhausted looking nishimura riki appeared before the door frame. the attention of the students including the teacher and you was transferred to him. you shook your head side to side while looking down as you hear him apologize to the teacher for being late. you sensed him seating beside you and you glared at him. “miss me?” he asked confidently as the students in front of you started passing the test papers. you tried to ignored him by getting your own quiz paper and passing the excess to the student behind you as riki did the same. “hmp,” he huffed. he sulks every time you ignore him.

classmate! riki who resorts in looking at your papers once in a while. who studies yet still cheats on tests and quizzes and you confronted him about this and he reasoned that he didn't want to think and waste any more braincells.

“nishimura-san, if you don't stop that buffoonery right now,” you quietly warn him without turning your gaze at him to avoid suspicion. “aw, what happened to ‘riki-san?’”

classmate! riki who will place down the ‘whatchu gonna do? tell the teacher?’ card every time you catch him slipping from the school ground rules.

purposely taking your sweet time answering, you were sure that you would probably ace the quiz. and it was a problem. so you changed some of your answer to give riki a fighting chance. you were mentally cursing yourself for the things you're doing for that menace.

classmate! riki who begs you to wait for him in front of the classroom he'd be kept in for detention after you do tell the teacher what he's done. arguing that you were the reason he was there for snitching.

“how well do you think you did?” riki referred to the science test you took this morning as you sip from your favorite drink. he was on detention for an hour and a half and asked you to accompany him through it and now you were sitting by the window with him on the other side. “mhm, i think i did pretty well. how well did you think you did, peabrain?” he scoffed loudly at the nickname, “you'll see.”

classmate! riki who will have a large grin plastered on his face when he gets his test paper back. the kind of grin that he'd have when he wins a bet between you or his other friends. the type to shove his perfect score to your face to spite you, to make small victory dances in front of you as part of his small celebration.

a small smile appeared on your lips in relief. you thought he aced the test from how happy he was. and surprisingly, he didn't. he was just half a point higher than you. 29.5/30, because his dumbass used the word face instead of phase in the explanation part that counts as five points.

classmate! riki who will get all whiny and upset when he finds out you let him win purposely on a duel.

"YOU WENT EASY ON ME!" he pointed at you as he jumped over your small frame to put you on head lock. he was careful though not to suffocate you. “IF I DIDN'T, YOU WOULDN'T BE SO ELATED TO TAKE ME ON A DATE! LET GO!”

classmate! riki who will help you climb over the wall of your school on a friday during your vacant to go on a tteokbokki date. who lets you sit on his shoulder while he lifts you high to reach the top of the barrier and climb over to the other side.

classmate! riki who will fly a paper plane to your direction when the teacher's not paying attention. “let's walk home together after school” the paper read. the type to wave his eyebrow at you with a grin when you turn to his direction.

you walked side by side, nishimura riki purposely bumping his sides on yours ever so slightly. you found this annoying and stupid. why wouldn't he just straight up and hold your hands if he wanted to. if he wouldn't then you will. you snaked your hands to his, by the slightest contact of your skin to his, he flinched transferring his gaze to where your hands were making contact. the rays of the sun setting complimented the blush on your cheeks. intertwining his slender fingers to yours, riki smiled while doing so. feeling the slight squeeze you gave his hand. the male found the gesture cute, returning it with two squeezes. and the of you walked down the peaceful streets of your residence, holding hands. cherishing each other's presence while you still can.

BONUS!

classmate! riki who will suspiciously give you snacks or make you drink water with a knowing smile. who will suddenly start laughing as you open your mouth to eat or drink what he has for you while encouraging you to keep going.

“did you pick this up from the floor? is this dirty? is this expired? nishimura riki, you fucking asshole.”

#enhypen #enhypen ff #enhypen fluff #enhypen x gender neutral reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smau #enhypen niki #riki nishimura #riki nishimura x reader #4th gen kpop #_MAYA'S DRABBLES💌_

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yxstxrdrxxm · 7 months

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... Having a tea party with the prefect of Heartslabyul, but everything has gone awry.

Everything has simply been tossed aside, the sight of the maze being shredded, and even the 'treats' have been coated in blot. The students have all but fallen due to the influence of this man before you, but by some sick, twisted luck, you were left alive.

He said that he liked you: the you, with no magic to your name, who had been dropped in this world with nothing to your name. The you who had been used as a silly errand person for Crowley— that bastard crow, he would murmur— and the you, who can't help but protect those... Rule breakers.

He liked you. Sweet, little, vulnerable you.

But what's this? Why do you shake so much, darling?

He wasn't going to hurt you. Why, that would simply break one of the rules set by the Queen of Hearts! How could he think of such a thing? How prepostorous.

So why are you so scared? Why do you look at him with such fear?

Do you not see him as the ever revered prefect, the one you admire so much? Or do you see him as what his mother does, a child that was mold to be her splitting and heartless image?

He could hardly understand why you're so scared of him, but he didn't like it. He needed to reassure you, to tell you he wouldn't raise his hand to harm you.

But if you keep running away like this, darling...

... Well, he wouldn't oppose having to punish you by having your head cut off.

It is off with your head, so be good, darling.

You wouldn't want to force Riddle's hand to do such a crime, after all.

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

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yxstxrdrxxm · 7 months

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SYNOPSIS: Lyney has a patience of a saint, but he's had enough of this game of cat and mouse. This time, he wants you, and no one will stop him for getting what he wants. (2nd POV) [ IDENTITYV AU ]

TW/S: Yandere tendencies, stalking (he's chasing you), minor character death (other survivors died), emotional manipulation, Arle teaches him how to """metaphorically""" cut off someone's 'wings', ooc Lyney and Arle, gore, teeth, Lyney is unhinged

You couldn't remember what tipped him off. It could be from your actions, or it could be from what you said. Hell, it may as well be something that you unknowingly did that offended him— something that would normally not be a bother to him that became its own trigger.

Whatever it could be, you were in the other end of such a horrible fate. And alas, the last place you wished you didn't end up in had to be the one you loathed the most.

The eerie chimes of the bell echoing around the haunted town continued to plague your senses, followed by the faint meowing of the grin-malkin cats as you sprinted for your dear life.

You can hardly focus on what is there and isn't there, as all you had is to get the hell out of here and save this sinking match.

Your only task is to survive.

Survive the madness of the man that loved you in such a twisted, horrible way.

You were his rabbit, and Eversleeping Town was the location of his greatest show yet— a show that will capture not just your attention, but your own will.

Granted, the ever forgiving Illusionist made a simple deal— if you get out by any means necessary, be it the dungeon, exit gate, or, hell— even by completing the ciphers with your companions or saved by the Nightingale… He'll let you go.

However, should you go down, he would consider that as a win of his own, and that meant you cannot leave this forsaken match that you're under.

It's why you were prepared. You came with a companion or two that can assist you, even if it had its own drawbacks.

Alas, this did not stop the Knave from simply going after them first, leaving only 4 ciphers and the dungeon still hidden and closed from many prying eyes. You were clever to cover your tracks, but he is more so with removing the most trickiest companions yet.

…

Or, that's what many may think.

The Knave bas been taught from the best of the best— his "Father" has taught him of how to, in simpler terms, keep a bird from flying away in its cage.

Should Lyney need it, he needed to learn one crucial detail: he needed to learn just how to clip his beloved's wings first and keep them in his cage.

After all, if he had found a way to do such a thing… the outcome of the match will be nothing but predictable.

And the Knave thrives off of the uncertainty, and especially with being dubbed the Trickster of Eversleeping.

He'll let you off for now. He'll let you scurry around, trying and praying that he never catches wind of your antics.

After all, the moment he catches you, you will have to pray to whatever God you believed in that he feels nice enough to not take you down to his very grave.

"Now, Lyney," he could vaguely hear 'Father' speak as she handed him his cards. Gesturing right before them was the sight of someone bound in the chair. The magician stood as he saw the stranger shake and struggle, trying to say something under the gag.

"You must learn how to use your tricks to matters such as this. I'm sure it will be hard, but I have faith that you can do it."

He seemed rather hesitant to speak with how the fool was trying and failing to scream. To beg, even. It was a pathetic sight if Lyney didn't had morals... Which he had, much to 'Father's' chagrin.

Oh well. It wasn't as though having morals can be a bad thing. Maybe it was better, so she can use it to her advantage.

"Take this, Lyney."

She hands the young magician an item. One that can be used with just a bit of force.

"Now, let Father teach you how to clip a bird's wings. All you have to do is watch and follow my lead. You can do that, right?"

He turned his gaze to the taller woman, then to the item she handed to him. The sight of the iron and leather caught his attention, and especially with the ends of it's 'mouth' being bloodied.

Pliers.

He should've dropped it the moment he had it. He should have done that and not agree. It was brutal to harm another person, and he knew that.

... But his 'Father' would simply dangle the life of Lynette over his head. She could simply threaten to send Lynette off to a dangerous mission, especially one where dying is guaranteed.

Many have died, and Lyney was not a stranger to that.

However, his sister was special. She was the only one he had left, and she to him. Should she die, he didn't knew what he'd end up doing.

And so, with a deep breath, he nodded and faced his 'Father'.

"Yes, Father."

...

That day didn't end in a simple case of dental work.

But he learned how to 'clip' a person's wings in exchange.

Your chest began to heave as you traversed through the empty buildings of the town, fatigue catching up to you the more you spent running.

Although your legs ached and begged for a break, you continued running, feeling the rush from behind you— one from the grin-malkin cats.

Now, one can say that you thought covering your tracks was a skill you need to learn. And with that, you assumed it to be the case. However, you've yet to learn that it was better not to underestimate a hunter's skills.

A lesson that Lyney, a man whom you've helped when you were both survivors, would be more than happy to teach you.

As you vaulted over an open window, you felt the air grow harsh as it whipped you on your descent, your feet landing on the pavement. Feeling your muscles tighten, you grit your teeth and sprinted onwards.

Come on, I just need to get to the graveyard. I can lose him from there!

Alas, you were not gifted with the matter of stamina. Just as you've reached past the tracks of the tram, you could hear Lyney speak from behind you.

"Look at what we have here! Scurrying off, are we?"

And then, you felt it.

Pain.

The harsh hit from Rosseland, his cat, as you vaulted over the window leading to the land of tombstones sent you flying; your back soon collided with one of the worn headstones, making you groan in pain.

In the midst of your suffering, Lyney vaulted through the window, his purple eyes twinkling as he crouched down to look at you.

"My, my, my little rabbit," he tutted, chuckling as he watched you crawl away from him with no avail. "Haven't we made a deal? If you manage to escape this match, I'll let you go. But since you went down... I get to keep you. Do you remember that?"

... You kept your mouth shut.

"... [Name]," he said, his right hand reaching over to grab your neck. "Answer me. Do you remember what our agreement is?"

"... I do."

And yet it feels like it's stacked against me.

Coughing, you turned your head away from him. You didn't need to see his face to know that he was happy to hear your agreement to the matter.

"See? It isn't so hard to agree, now, is it?" he asked with a lit of his voice. "Now, my darling... Now that I have you, I'd like for you to answer a few questions for me."

Questions?

"... And if I refuse?"

Lyney laughed at that, but his voice was less composed. Perhaps it was more manic.

"Ahahahaha! What makes you think you're able to refuse, my little hare?" he asked, his eyes closed before reaching up to grab your chin. With an iron grip, he turned your head to him, his eyes open to face you with a chilling smile.

"I'd hate to have you toy with me like that. You know that, right?"

You wanted to say otherwise, but you were already incapacitated. If you ever decided to counter his claim, you knew that he would do worse than simply chairing you to one of the... Less than desirable chairs with rockets strapped onto them.

".. Fine," you breathed out. "I agree."

"Splendid," he said, pulling his gloved hand away to grab his hat. As he pulled it off of his head and turned it upside down, he reached his left to slip inside.

"Now, I don't want to you to force my hand. It's only a few questions that I want you to answer, and if you answer them truthfully... I may spare you by chairing you myself."

You didn't knew what that meant...

... Up until you saw a pair of pliers peek out from his hand, the dull gleam of iron greeting your horrified face.

"But if you lied, I'll have to resort to some more... Drastic measures."

The hours you two spent together was, in short, torture.

You couldn't count the amount of times that your teeth got yanked with those metal ones, the pain and blood gushing as you wailed.

You could count other ways that would be better than feeling metal graze and nick at them. You could've asked for simply to be drugged, to face death by his hands, to bleed onto the ground that he walked on.

However, death was not a fate worse than this. And Lyney— rather, the Lyney you see now, not the one you know of— was a man who had a manic streak hidden under that smile.

As he yanked the nineteenth tooth out of you, he turned his head down to see blood drip down and stain your clothes. He scowled and placed his pliers down with four teeth now on his right side, grabbing a handkerchief to wipe the blood away.

He knew it was pointless. You did, too.

Maybe it was a way to distract yourself from the pain, and for him to justify his actions in doing such a thing.

Alas, delusions can only take you so far, and pain is karma's many mistresses. One of many that everyone in the manor is familiar with, you and Lyney included.

"Shhh..."

He began to dab the cloth more as blood spilled and tainted the fabric, his smile empty of its sympathy for your decision to lie to him. All he could see before him was his darling, whose way, way too stubborn for his good.

And one that is good to make him lose his patience.

"I have warned you, haven't I?" he asked, his voice chilling yet sickeningly sweet while he pulled the handkerchief away. Tossing it to a direction he could care less to look, he grabbed another from his hat to continue his 'treatment'.

"If you had simply stayed truthful, you wouldn't have to loose your teeth! And yet, you didn't listen," he concluded, tutting as you sobbed and turned your head from him.

"I pity you, my dear hare. But it's the price to pay with how you didn't listen to my warnings."

When the blood stopped spilling, he placed the bloodied fabric and stared at his handiwork. From the answers he got from you, he was quite... Intrigued with what you told him.

"Now... I'm going to ask you one more time."

Grabbing the now bloodied pliers, he positioned it to your twentieth tooth, ignoring the sobs you let out and your gaze full of fear.

"Do you prefer my dear sister, Lynette?"

He could hear your breath heave as the metal 'teeth' of the pliers began to tighten.

However, the answer you gave him was interesting... Especially when you whispered out 'yes' with your greatest efforts.

...

"Is that so?"

He couldn't help but laugh. So, you do prefer Lynette, his sister... Over him? What a farce!

He may care for his sister to death, but he would rather have you than her survive to be his lifelong assistant.

Especially now that his 'Father' gave him the role of Knave, and how his siblings have been punished for trying to go against him and save that sorry excuse of magician. Himself.

"Ah, I see how it is," he said, his voice merely a wheeze as his hand shook. However, it went still and firm once more, and he gave you a lopsided smile.

"Do you remember what I've told you before, hm? Back when we were simply 'survivors' in this forsaken manor?"

Your body shook.

"Magicians generally do not reveal the core secrets behind their tricks," he said, his smile widening. "And especially if it concerns their heart. However, I may just revoke that if you call me 'Master Lyney' and swear to be my only assistant— and only me."

He could see that you were shaking even more, and the fear was what drove him mad. Alas, he knew that he might nick at your gums if he got too rough.

Not that you mind, right?

"I'm curious how much of it you'd understand," he concluded, leaning over to continue in a whisper.

"And how long you'd last, hehe~"

And thus, he yanked your twentieth tooth, causing your screams to erupt all through the barren town and the Illusionist to shiver in glee. He always enjoyed the thought of performing, but maybe he has lost it while staying here for so long.

Putting the pliers away, he hushed you and began to rock your body, uncaring of the sobbing and your blood staining his attire.

"I just wish to make a point. And I hope you understand that, my assistant."

Alas, the day cannot last forever. Lyney knew that, and it's why he decided to do one last trick.

Covering your eyes, he grabbed a crimson red handkerchief— one tainted with your blood— and covered your face. With a whisper, he pulled it away, leaning back to see his handiwork.

"And... Voila!"

He seemed rather smug as he saw teeth were back in your mouth, each one untainted and straight like new. Still, the damage was done, as you continued to sob and wail, begging for him to not do it again.

...

That day didn't end in a simple denture fix, that he's certain of.

But he utilized what 'Father' taught him all those years ago.

And that was good enough.

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

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yxstxrdrxxm · 7 months

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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—

"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.

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

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

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yxstxrdrxxm · 6 months

Text

... Being in the Akademiya to study with the mysterious Wanderer.

No one knows who this man is or his deal, but you've heard rumors about him. Rumors that spoke of his ventures, and especially with what he knows of in the nation they say he came from.

Wanderer: a man of mysteries, of multiple masks and mania, is said to have came from Inazuma. Sure, his appearance seemed to make him look as though he came from it, but he didn't seem to deny it when you asked.

To Wanderer, his past is nothing short of a forgotten, discarded book. Just like what Kusanali would utter to him, that book was destined to simply be forgotten in the shelves of his mind, where only he gets access to it.

A trilogy of them, sealed away from any prying eyes... How blasphemous, he thinks.

That's what he sees everyone. Multiple faces with books of their pasts, some more complex and unbelievable hard to decipher.

However, yours is an open book. An empty one, he notes from your mindless rants, but one he wanted to reach out and take his pen— his influence— to write on those pages.

With every word you spilled, the Wanderer seemingly commits it to his memory, every syllable you uttered etched to his brain. Working amidst the churning of cogs, each of your lilt and fall was taken note by the discarded and manic puppet, but even he is confused on why.

Why must he note of the things you tell him? You weren't that interesting him. Surely, he couldn't have seen you as interesting enough that he wanted to dig into you.

... Right?

And yet here he was, in his personal little House of Daena, books filled upon the shelves of his mind. He couldn't help but wander in it every time he felt that the Akademiya lost him, sifting through the many books of his thoughts.

Thoughts on you.

Sweet, little, pathetic, mindless you.

Perhaps it was best that Wanderer kept this door closed, he thinks, as he watched you speak to Cyno.

The way you two bonded had his insides writhe, crumbling and withering at the ugly, revolting image of your smile shown to the General Mahammatra.

Ah, he loathed you for that.

But perhaps he loathes himself, in his own way.

He's always kept you out of his personal library, while you left yours open for any to see.

Including himself.

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

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yxstxrdrxxm · 7 months

Text

... Dancing with the Heartslabyul prefect, both dressed as a ghost bride and gravekeeper under the full moon.

Riddle had proposed to dance waltz with you in the empty graveyard, and although you two had to look for your friends, having to deny him now seemed rather difficult. And especially when he looks at you with those eyes of his, speaking only of good intentions.

It was only a single dance, and that was it. You and that gravekeeper knew that, and it was why you agreed to it.

But amidst the dancing, the ground under you two quivered. Riddle paid no heed, but you did, often turning to him to speak to him of what is going on.

However, he would only tell you one thing and one thing alone.

"Don't look down."

One part of you never understood what it meant, but it was soon clear as you felt those bony hands crawl up and grab your legs. The outfit did nothing to cover them as they simply scratched you, making you panic.

Still, Riddle did nothing as he continued dancing— watching you panic made him displeased.

Wasn't this befitting for you two? To dance in the graves as the skeletons come alive?

To reassure you, he simply yanked you away from the skeletons, this time spinning you by the sight of the moonlight. You told him that you felt them grab you, but all he did was smile and say that he never saw that happen.

After one last spin, he dipped your body, letting your hair hit the first few petals inside the coffin he prepared.

...

Oh? What's this? Why is your eyes so wide, darling prefect?

Surely you would recognize that body that you see inside.

Isn't that yours?

You were dressed as a bride, were you not?

Silly darling! That was just a prop!

Riddle would be not so uncouth as to have you buried with that fake prop, you know... Even if that prop looked so closely to you.

Nevertheless, seeing you quiver like a leaf, the gravekeeper dragged you back to his arms, covering your eyes by putting his hand behind your head. He can only whisper apologies as you hit his chest...

... Unknowing of the needle he had as he injected it to the nape of your neck, feeling you jolt as your body become heavier from the drug. And especially when the prop gets dragged to the ground to be torn apart.

...

Oh, sweet, little bride. If only you knew just how far his obsession ran.

After all, as the vows go, till death do you part.

And Riddle will never part with you, even if you both die in his coffin of roses.

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

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yxstxrdrxxm · 7 months

Text

... Taking care of the prefect's tsum, especially when he was busy with classes.

Sweet little thing, you thought. He was the splitting replica of the Heartslabyul prefect, minus that you can hold him like he was a plush of your own, and with that tiny crown on it's head.

However cute it might be, though... You needn't forget that this was still the same Riddle Rosehearts you are dealing with. So naturally, this one has a temper best described to be a tempest.

When you end up slacking off with it, the tsum seem to have a mind of it's own and hit you by the side. If you dare to break one of the rules, you'd see it even lunge and smack you by the gut, making you keel over.

Why, if you even try to interact with the other tsums, he seem to get mad! He'd even shove those away from you, almost like he was... Jealous.

How strange. Can a tsum get jealous of another? You never knew the answer to that till now.

Every time you consult to Riddle about his tsum's behavior, he would often see it as more of your fault. Ah, so you aggravated it again? Why is that? ... You forgot to wear pink?! Of course it'd get mad! What were you thinking, darling?!

Although, if it gives you any sense of comfort, there are times that he is more kind to you. Maybe he'd even get upset at his tsum, with how it hits you when you get something wrong.

... Oh, but don't be fooled.

The tsum prefect may be a lot more impulsive than the original, but even it has it's own strengths. And with how it looks just so cute, you can't exactly blame it when it starts... well, acting out.

... Make sure you keep your eyes on it, darling.

You wouldn't want to be subjected to yet another broken 'rule' because of it, right?

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

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yxstxrdrxxm · 6 months

Text

SYNOPSIS: The wanderer never knew what it feels to finally have a forever home till he met you.

TW/S: Yandere behavior/tendencies, major character death/s, Wan finally learns something but its not the way you'd expect, hurt/no comfort, delusional thinking/mindset, denial is a river in Egypt and he is drowning in it, creative/abstract rep. of Wan's story + traveler! reader is more platonic than a romantic interest with him as a yandere.

NOTE: After college kicked my ass, I am finally back to writing fics. I'm not going to open requests just yet because my schedule is a little (read: very) wack. Also, I'm not used to writing Wanderer's personality/character so forgive me for any errors in advance. I also wanted to try my hand on writing platonic Wanderer, so I hope this is up to everyone's tastes (even if I wanted to NOT make him a platonic Wan and more like unrequited lol).

Wanderer was not a man that can be easily tamed or found.

No one knows how a man like himself can coexist in the world, but to some that knew him, they can summarize it to him being alive to spite the archons known to man. To others, though, it was more of fate playing with his already torn heart.

But to Wanderer himself? His answer is simple.

He's learned the horrors of Teyvat in the worst time possible.

He never held any fondness of those that toyed with his heart, and even more of how he felt with his thirst of bloodlust and anger. He recalled how his 'Mother' had left him— cutting the strings connecting him to her, and letting him suffer the effects without her guidance.

He remembered how his 'home' was her, and how he was simply banished from it. He was too fragile, thus, he never deserved her care; that was what he would tell himself every night, when his sleep is disrupted from the nightmares that plagued him.

In the second time he had a 'home', it was with Niwa and the clan. He considered it his forever home, for those who took him in treated him like he deserved it. He learned how things worked back then, and he understood just how nice it was to have people care.

He learned his second emotion after fear, the first he learned from his mother.

He learned satisfaction.

But things will never last, not when his second home had been ruined by Dottore. He could only watch as the chaos unfolded, with many of his companions dying. It was when he fled, seeking refuge by himself— for he thought that it was because of him that their lives had all been snuffed away.

The fear gnawed at him, its claws sinking into the puppet's fragile psyche and conscience. He found himself having worse nightmares after such an event, plagued with it to the point that he can hardly sleep a wink.

He was a puppet, so sleep wasn't really essential for him, just like breathing. But to him, it was his only comfort.

His solace to the cruel world.

His third home had been with the sickly child. He had never learned from his lesson with Niwa, but it didn't mean he gave up on hope back then. And with such a child that needed his attention, he vowed to protect him with his life if need be.

He still felt that comfort when he was with Niwa back then, but since it was with the kid, he dreaded losing him. He's lost so much, and he didn't want to think about losing the last person he cared for so soon.

Alas, fate was a cruel mistress. She did not spare him a glance, just like his Mother, for when he returned after getting those lavender melons in one winter night...

... The puppet wept at the sight of his lost companion, who died by the sickness.

He never recovered. But maybe it was a good thing, for he can no longer blame it on someone else but himself, or the circumstances he was in.

Because of this, he began to descend to a cruel rabbit hole. All he could think was how much he failed to care and nurture the people he was with, and how cruel they could be to leave him when they took everything from his sleeved heart.

He had given everything to them, all that made the weeping puppet... Himself.

But it seems like fate never wanted him to have an easy life. No, not when he was 'born'.

Losing his third home, he learned the bitter taste of anger. He learned how it felt so hot, so bitter, and he needed to quell it. Immediately.

Although the flames consumed the weeping puppet, in his heart of void, he could feel the pieces being mend with stitches. Being sewn up bit by bit with hatred, he made it his mission to never show his broken heart to anyone.

If he will be left by his companions for being too 'open', then he shall close it. He needn't endure the pain of losing his own home till the day he died.

The fourth home he had was within Snezhnaya's borders, back when he was taken in by Zandik— alias Il Dottore.

He has grown to be cruel to those that tried to get to him, and for the Doctor, he found it intriguing. A puppet made by the Archon of Electro, and yet... He was casted aside like he was nothing. Was there a reason for his existence, if not to be a waste?

Zandik sought to find the answer to it, but he was amused with how the puppet tried to act like he was the boss of him. That a harbinger with a higher position must fear the one who is lower than him— how laughable.

The first few months, the Tsaritsa had kept him as a way to keep the grunts in line. She had a vision, but seeing just how useful the vengeful puppet could be, she sought to tie him in her strings.

But she forgot that the puppet she's taking care of is a feisty one. One that has seen the horrors of the world, and his heart had been torn and mended with hatred.

So, she decided to let Zandik take care of him— make him easier to mend and break, should he find it to be necessary. It was her personal assignment to the Doctor, and one that he took without a single moment of hesitation.

And so, the change began.

The small, single tap of the rock disturbed the tranquil waters, and lightning seem to follow suit. It traveled across the bodies of the liquid, much like how the pain traveled to his limbs, making him cry and grit his teeth in agony.

The sparks of one man can only be alive for so long till it was snuffed, but to Zandik, he saw him as an everlasting, combusting fire. One made of lightning and snow, and sculpted to be of her likeness but riddled with flaws.

The Tsaritsa wanted a puppet, and so did the Shogun. The difference, however, is that one exploits a puppet's weakness for their mistaken strength, while the other abandons them should they lack the qualities needed for perfection.

As more of those changes began to take effect on him, so did those ripples in the tranquil waves grew stronger. Each one of those ripples served as a scar, one that he couldn't forget so easily, no matter how much he tampered with Irminsul.

Each time he felt that lightning strike him, pain would follow him, electrifying him and letting him adapt to the strikes as normal. Every time frost would gnaw deeper into the trenches, all he can do is hold himself steady while it ate at him.

The man made of tranquil waters, of waves that disturb them when it became too intense, had nothing been more than dust. In its wake was the culmination of lightning, of sparks flying and encased in a thick sheet of snow.

When Zandik showed the puppet's state, she found it amusing... And essential. To her, he now became a tool, and not a liability.

His original venture to find himself had long since been forgotten, only leaving with the thirst to seek answers of the world and do the goals that the Tsaritsa wants him to do.

He became the 6th Harbinger that day, and she was the second to bestow him the name he took by heart.

Scaramouche.

As the identity of the Balladeer slips into his fingertips, he wore it like it was made for him. At the time, it felt like... It was. It fits him better than those light robes of Kunikuzushi, the name that was bestowed by Niwa and his clan.

...

The name that held far too bitter thoughts and memories, and that was tied to karma that followed him.

Abandoning the robes and donning the skin of a Fatuu, the wandering man found himself another home: one that he himself knew— in his heart, at least— that wasn't for him.

It was more of a stationary, but truly, he wasn't going to complain.

In his service of the Balladeer, he has done many crimes that can put him under the radar of the court: he had the pleasure to commit mass murder should he find it necessary with his lackeys, manipulate them to do his bidding, and even punish them with the use of his Delusion if he felt that they were going too far.

Back then, all he had as a goal was to learn the truth behind his mere existence. However, what he received at the end was not that, but of the world.

It was, surprisingly enough, when he met... You.

He never found you as pleasant to be around. Just like those he's seen, he saw you as a nuisance— a bumbling buffoon, seeking for answers that will never come your way.

Alas, for the sake of his mission, he must treat you with regard. So, he began to feed your head with lies and false kindness, but your companion, that astrologist, knew what he was up to when she saw him.

Was it because of how he acted? Or was it because of her power?

Still, whatever it could've been, it was pointless for him to dig into. He only saw you and your companions as annoying, and even your goals were nothing but a bitter, laughable reminder of his ignorance as Kunikuzushi.

Truly, you are quite ignorant of the truth. Too ignorant for him to tolerate for even a single moment!

Although, in some part of him, he found it bitter to see your face twist in expressions best regarded to be... Saddening. Perhaps of agony, to be more precise. In some sense, he still cared, but it was difficult to tell why.

... Why did he cared, still? For even a stranger he'd never see again?

...

He didn't knew.

But for the time being, he made it his only vow to never see you. He never wished to see you in his waking lifetime, especially if you were to stop him in his main goal.

To achieve Godhood.

Being a God made by humans is not easy. In actuality, he would much rather not have to go through such a thing again in hindsight.

Still, in the height of his trainwreck of a journey, he decided to give it a try. He wanted to achieve what he had been working for, especially now that he had wrecked his own 'home' that she gave him.

The home she made for him was too fragile, and the body he was in was enough. For the puppet, he wanted nothing more than to ruin those that thought of using him— and what better way than to achieve it by playing the role of God?

Still, in the midst of trying to reach the impossible, he had to sacrifice everything.

He had to endure the worst of the worst: the pain of ice hitting him and causing splinters to his case, the claps of thunder sending him high sparks of agony, and even the fluids used to taint his once peaceful waters, making him into a bomb set to explode should one mishandle him.

It was the Doctor who had managed to get to him and mold him to how he likes it. This, he is also responsible of fixing him to fit the role he wants— a God.

The ones that worked under him, the scribes, all worshipped and revered him. They fed him all the knowledge one needed and more, causing him to develop a complex as big as the world in its entirety.

With the knowledge in his mind and power from the Gnosis, he could confidently say that he reached what any foolish, puny mortal couldn't: he became the archon of the nation of knowledge, snuffing out the two Archons's names and those that opposed him.

However, much like before, his heart remained the state that it was. Amidst the sudden surge of authority, it still felt empty. Hollow. Like a huge part of it is missing.

He thought the Gnosis will take care of that need, that it would be enough for him as he's got the means to an end. Whatever he desires, he will get it without much of a fuss.

... Right?

Well, he found out to be wrong. Very wrong.

To him, being a God isn't enough. He still had things he wanted to achieve as one, and he didn't like how some of them are impossible to attain.

Like removing an existing archon.

Though, maybe he shouldn't have his hopes up, especially when his time is limited when Buer entered the room with you.

Ah, right. He forgot about you— the traveler, who he met time and time again. First in the lands of freedom, then in the land of contracts, and even in the buildings of his first 'home'...

... And now you, who he contacted back when he was in his last stage to become a full fledged archon. One where he is prepared to commence another archon war among them.

Of course, you were not happy to see him. Buer must've told you what was going on, but he wasn't expecting to hear you cry out and try to reason with him.

...

How pathetic. Do you honestly think he'd listen? He'd rather have you killed by his own hands if you weren't so— so interesting to him.

And so the battle commenced.

You were the first to take the stand, and he noticed how quick you were to jump to conclusions. You spouted nonsense at how he couldn't do what he's doing right now, for (in your eyes), it is 'immoral' and 'killing a God to become one is impossible'.

Honestly, what do you even see to think of such a conclusion? He wondered if you ever truly saw the mask underneath their facades, with how you seem to defend the smallest immortal being without a single moment to think of her power.

Still, he couldn't help but humor you, so he let you do as you wished. He let you fight him even if it was pointless, thriving at the idea that you will wear yourself out by the end of it.

You'll lose your footing at some point with how pointless this battle is— that's something he's sure of.

However, as you two fought, he couldn't help but realize with how you two were two different people. Had you two met back then, back where he wasn't tainted by the sights of the world and retained his innocence... Would you two get along?

Would you ever see him the way you do now: with resentment, judgement, and maybe a hint of pity?

He didn't knew the answer to that. If anything, he could hardly know the answer to a possibility that wouldn't happen, and especially with the roads you two took that negated such a thing.

You took the road to the light— as blinding as it may be, you chose that for yourself to achieve your goals of searching for your kin.

He, however, took the road to the abyss— for the roads he took before forsook him, and he couldn't help but shut his eyes from the truth.

That was one thing that separated you both. And for him, it felt like a weight rested on his shoulders.

However, as you two fought for the right to take down the opposition, he could feel the weight rest on him. The longer that you two spent together, he could see flashes of his past memories—

—his time back then with his 'mother,

—the time he spent with Niwa and the clan,

—and even how he spent the rest of his few years with the kid.

Those memories were all but locked in the recesses of his heart, and for him, he couldn't help but recoil at each sight. It made him remember that he, too, is flawed.

It made him realize that he was, and always is, alone in his fight.

The last clang of metal hit steel, and for once, the unthinkable had happened.

He... Lost.

The body of his began to shut down, months and years spent on creating the perfect and ideal vessel laid nothing to waste. The battlefield had long been wasted and ruined, but he couldn't help but ignore it.

For his eyes rest upon you; the one who took him down, who made him remember who he was back then.

And the one aiding him to be rid of his 'heart'.

Looking back at that moment, he never understood your decision to let him go.

Did you knew what his past life had been? Or did you see him as a man that can still be salvaged, no matter the consequences it may bring?

Wanderer never understood that from you, and he knew that maybe, he never will.

Standing before your body before him, he could feel blood drip from his hands. You were too easy to use and manipulate sometimes, but maybe, just maybe... He had felt pity for you.

Was he rash to simply repeat his first mistake? Maybe. But then again, he has done much more atrocities than the world could ever remember.

You asked him what he saw home to be once, but what he answered was it being akin of a house of cards.

It is always meant to be taken down, no matter how strong it is.

Still, he couldn't help but sigh. He's learned so much from you, and yet all he gave you was pain. How pitiful of him, as he simply toyed with your hopes to have him change for the better.

Raising your head by the hair, his lips simply curved itself to a smile.

But maybe, just maybe, he could accept one last lesson from you. You helped him realize one thing, after all.

That he is able to grant you salvation, even when he is nothing but a sham.

Cradling your body, he let the touch of crimson taint the poisoned waters, his previous face and identity all but melted away by your touch. He was sick in the head, but you gave him a new skin to wear.

Yours will do, he thinks. So pretty yet so tainted because of him, one that he had no shame of using for his selfish desires.

He was a man undeserving of a place he called home. He's destined to be alone, especially due to his crimes that deserved it's death row.

But with you in his arms, even if you two were never lovers... He can wear your skin as his new identity. You did chose it for him, did you not?

It's only right for a 'friend' to honor one's memory by using their skin and blood, after all.

And Wanderer will do what it takes to honor your memory in the way he knew best.

"Even now, we're all alone. Just like what we're destined to be."

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

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yxstxrdrxxm · 5 months

Text

SYNOPSIS: Faes and humankind are never meant to be together, but Coviello has plans to prove that wrong.

TW/S: Yandere behavior, non-canon to original Coviello, variant of twst! Coviello (huge inspo to Malleus from twst!), stalking, somno but not the sexual kind??, major character death/s (debatable but if you squint, you can see it), huge reference to the original cover of Once Upon a Dream by Lana Del Rey, delusional mindset, lol they're pulling some sleeping beauty shit here.

NOTE: Coviello is not from me, its from Meirin (@zhongrin/@meimeimeirin)! Also, this was something that hit me so hard after hearing the cover of once upon a dream... And drawing Coviello as Malleus did not help my delusions.

As a dragon fae, Coviello is no stranger to the waking of death.

They have attested this by seeing how humans can only live for so long, be it by decades... Or a few years, if they were unlucky. Some were even unfortunate to have their lives snuffed before they were given the chance to live.

To them, they were birthed from an egg, and although they had the temper worse than of a common fae, their family took care of them. At least... To the best of their abilities.

As they grew up, their eyes have witnessed tragedies. Some fell on their kind, while others fell on themselves.

It was when they achieved their signature spell: one that is so tied to the song that they heard their mother sing. However, there was a catch to that spell.

That is... Coviello must know the person's name, for this spell needs it as a payment of it's own.

If it doesn't... Well, they didn't need to remember. They knew what the payment was in return of the lack of name. Who's to say they didn't experienced it themselves?

And so, they lived on. They've watched as times change, but they remained the same. If anything, they were quite displeased with how things seem to happen so quickly.

There was nothing to catch their eye. Nothing that could make them slow down, to admire, aside from the sweets they get or from admiring the simple scenery... Or even with their animal companion.

That is, until they met you.

Housewarden of Ramshackle and Crowley's little helper.

You were the light of their life, something that made them stop to look twice.

And you two met at a time where they thought it was impossible, which was Night Raven College.

At the time, it was a simple nightly stroll for Coviello. They were out to see the abandoned ruins of Ramshackle, to simply get away from the chaos of Diasomnia. And in such a time, they had simply thought they would get a sliver of peace.

However, they were displeased to see that they weren't... And it was because of you.

Still, they held their tongue and became cordial. In their mind, you were simply there to be like them: to escape from whatever dorm you were stuck in, or to get your bearings over something else before heading back to rest.

However, they were gravely mistaken. They realized that, no, you weren't doing that... And you were an insomniac.

That, and you LIVED in that abandoned, dilapidated of a dorm.

Coviello had to reel in the urge to ask you to repeat yourself. That was a shock they never expected, and they were one to have witnessed the horrors of it all.

And yet, from the look in your eyes, you weren't kidding. And you were even more bold to ask them of their name.

In the folklore and basic knowledge of faes, one mus not tell them your real name. This was so to limit the possibility of them taking some form of ownership, a title of their claim on you.

However, Coviello what they didn't expect was for you to willingly give up your name, and even give them a nickname of your own.

You called them 'Vii'. A playful iteriation of their name, but they had no heart to correct you.

You were a peculiar being, but maybe... It was better you stay oblivious.

For their sake.

That day, Coviello was not the same as others had noticed.

If anything, it would seem as though they changed. The once feared leader of Diasomnia had their heart softened over someone that no one knew, but those who did were left confused.

Who knew that one human could make them feel like this? And yet, they did.

Every time Coviello was with you, you made it clear that it was simply to be with them as a friend. You weren't going to restrict Coviello for what they should or shouldn't do, and you were there to support them.

You made the fae feel human. Someone who was worth hearing out for.

And for them, they got addicted.

However, it wasn't long till they have witnessed your struggles. You were still human, so it was clear that you had your own issues, too.

One was how people took advantage of your kindness.

You have your heart on your sleeve far too many times, and Coviello had to witness that happen. It was almost like you never learned how it feels to be used, and when you did... You were hurt.

They hated it. They hated seeing just how miserable you are sometimes. And they hated how you seem to act like your misery was not a big deal.

Still, you trudged on, just like a soldier is to the sight of a war.

As for Coviello, they stayed... Waiting.

Waiting for your walls to crumble.

What they lacked back then was patience, but oh, Coviello had enough time in the world to remain patient. They knew in themselves that the time will come that you'll admit defeat.

And each time that things happened, the burden was placed on you. Each time you try to justify it wasn't your fault, people never believed you.

You were a magicless human. You don't deserve to have a voice, they told you.

And each time, you swore to yourself that you felt someone was on you. Someone who kept watching you from a distance, far from your untrained eyes.

Coviello truly didn't mean to scare you, but they were curious. They wanted to see if you were able to understand the predicament you were under, and how each one of them would let you take the blame.

They were all cowards. You and Coviello knew that. But did you believe them?

No. No, you didn't.

And to see them resort to it after all the warning they gave you was... Disappointing. But maybe it was worth for the beauty that they've seen.

That in some way, you were stubborn to prove their words wrong.

However, Coviello has seen it. Each time that you went through it, they could see how difficult it is to remain the same perception.

Which leads them to now, with cradling your body in their arms after they had the entirety of Night Raven College under their control. Under their power, slumbering as peacefully as they can.

"... But if I know you, I know what you'll do," they whispered by your ear, pulling your body closer to them. "You'll love me at once, the way you did..."

"Once Upon a Dream."

And just like that, your body went limp, your rushed breaths becoming quiet. Coviello could only imagine what pleasant dreams you have under their spell as flowers bloomed, traversing to cover your eyes to keep them 'closed'.

Once Upon a Dream— a signature spell only they can wield, which renders whoever hears those words in a deep slumber. And the worst part?

All they need is a name of the recipient for it to work.

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

#💌 ;; message delivery #💌 ;; from: coviello #💌 ;; post: ocs #💌 ;; to: gen. neutral reader #yandere x you #yandere drabble #yandere writing #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere insert #yandere text

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yxstxrdrxxm · 5 months

Text

SYNOPSIS: They lost you years ago in Border Springs, but now, they have their second chance to get you back to them.

TW/S: Yandere behavior, major character death/s, delusional thinking/mindset, non-canon to original Coviello, train conductor! Coviello is insane here actually, gore, forced cannibalism of certain parts, drugs (heavily implied to be used), Sweet Dreams AU (plot is basically nonexistent because I thought of writing this as an imagines... At 1 AM lol. God help me), unreliable narrator (that's me)

NOTE: Please keep in mind that Coviello is not my oc, but my good friend, Mei (@zhongrin/@meimeimeirin)! I teased to her and a few others about this so I hope this is enough lol.

████████ didn't understood the concept of love.

Ever since they were a kid, they have never grasped the matter of love. They've red books about it, and even asked others their own views on the matter, but nothing stuck.

████████ didn't understand why... And it frustrated them.

Just what was it that made them lost? What is it about love that made people so pathetic over it?

Despite their grievances, things did change when they encountered you. Little 9 year old ████████, frustrated by the events that made them struggle to grasp emotions, had met someone that evoked and expressed them so seamlessly.

Their blue eyes caught sight of you.

You were a bit younger than them— maybe 2 years younger?— but ████████ couldn't help to think on approaching you first. You were folding a few papers while sitting under the shade, and they couldn't help but be curious.

"... Hey."

Your head moved over to look at them.

They look... A little dirty. But they're happy.

Why is that?

"Hm? What is it?"

...

"What are you doing?" ████████ couldn't help but ask, their eyes fixated on you folding the paper a few times.

They tilted their head when you laughed at their question, this time grabbing their sleeve to pull them down to sit beside you.

"I'm folding a paper crane! Mama taught me how!"

...

████████'s eyes softened. Your speech needed a bit of work, but they can let it slide. Not everyone can learn how to speak, let alone make cranes.

"Do you want me to teach you?"

"Huh?

It was their turn to be caught by surprise, just like how ████████ did to you.

"To make paper cranes, duh!" you said, giggling. "Do you wanna learn how?"

... It's not worth it.

".. alright. I guess that's fine."

There were certain days that Coviello cherished.

Despite having such a rough life, the conductor can still remember the sweet memories they had. That was the first time they remembered meeting you— the one that opened their stubborn mind to the world.

They couldn't help but wonder... Was it because they're drawn to you? Like a moth to a flame?

Or was it because, at the time, you were lonely?

Like me?

...

Tsk. They wouldn't be.

Still, Coviello reached over to brush at the worn paper, the crane still standing tall. They could even see the pencil written on it's wings. It was your chicken handwriting— they knew that well, since they've seen it so often when you were both kids— but it made them feel nostalgic.

Despite the words being smudged and faded, their eyes can still make out what was written from the dirtied, yellow paper:

[ H█p██ ██r██day ████████! — January 22, 20XX ]

The name of the recipient was smudged, but it was fine. They did the best they could to preserve it, but sometimes, there may be things that is inevitable.

And one such thing is how they were separated, torn from the one they cherished as their friend.

Recalling how it went, Coviello scoffed. They hated remembering it, for it felt like they didn't knew the truth behind the incident. So what if they hurt you? They reasoned that it was an accident— a fluke!

You even reasoned with them, so how—

The train's whistle cut off their thoughts.

Ah. We reached our stop.

Putting on their hat and uniform, they adjusted the vest and gloves, just so they'd look... Decent. Even if that won't change, they felt as though they needed to do it out of habit.

It's the only 'normal' they had.

"Ah, excuse me."

Coviello's eyes shifted when they noticed you dozing off. Although they were shocked to see you at first, they were pleased. Finally, you were here on the train, leaving Midport, too.

Although, you were tired... How strange. That's not good, mused the conductor.

"You seem tired," Coviello commented, putting on their familiar smile as they pulled out their pen and notepad. "Do you want me to get you anything?"

They watched you eye them carefully, seeing the cogs in your brain work as it tries to think if they were familiar to your memories before.

...

Alas, they could tell that you gave up on it, considering you gave them a sorry excuse of a smile and nodded.

"I'd like a cup of coffee, please," you told them, making them write down what you requested.

"Alright—"

"Huh? Is the conductor takin' drinks now?" hollered one voice. A man, Coviello presumed.

"Heyyy conductor! Can we get free drinks, too?"

Coviello's smile twitched for a second, but they turned to the man— ah, of course. They should've known that it would be a tourist... And a couple.

Hmph. They're married, judging by those rings.

"Of course. What would you like?" they asked, remaining that professional smile amidst the icy tone and stare.

Unperturbed by their subtle shift of attitude, the man laughed, amused at the thought. He turned to his newly married wife, a grin on his face.

"What do you want, babe?"

"Oh, I just want a sweet drink with lots of love, hehe!"

"Aww, you always say that. You're so cute, darling!"

"Noooo, you're cuter than me!"

...

Disgusting.

Coviello had tuned out of most of their... 'conversation', only nodding and taking notes when its necessary. They've dealt with annoyances like them in the past, but it was never to this degree.

Still, they wished it'd be done now. They have your drink to brew.

One that they would take their sweet time with, of course.

They knew that, morally speaking, they were in the wrong to have messed with your head like that. But what were they supposed to do?

The train conductor was a simple person. They only wanted one thing that'd make them happy, and they weren't one to ask for anything else. Hell, they never asked for anything to change— so as long they'd get to have it, of course.

They wanted their friend.

... Or, rather, the one who opened their eyes to the world.

Their friend had been the one that stuck by them, but even they couldn't help and think that they were too good for everyone else. Maybe even for them, too.

The irony of wanting something... And also pushing it away out of spite.

Such is the fault of humanity.

Though, during both of your separation, you've grown stronger. Wiser, even. You were naive back when they were your only friend as a child, but now in the train, you were cautious.

Coviello didn't knew if that is something they should praise you for, or to loathe, considering how difficult it has been just to get you to settle in place. Alas, they have to digress.

Walking past the empty halls of the train, they couldn't help but spare a glance to the windows. They were still the same as they saw it, but if one looked closely, they'd see some odd patches on the window panes and fabric, like it wasn't cleaned and got stuck.

They knew what that was.

Whoever can see it would understand that very well.

"... Hm? What's wrong?"

Coviello crouched down in front of the married woman, their eyes remaining dead as they were as they watched her quiver and shake. Gasping, they pushed themselves away from the conductor, the sight of the cup scaring them.

"Didn't you say you wanted a drink that is filled with love?"

Snatching the cup, they grabbed her chin and firmly kept it in place, stained gloves gripping on her head to turn her as they raised it.

Oh, they knew what they made. The contents inside it can scare someone, but not them.

"Drink it," they ordered, placing the thumb of their hand to part her lips. Placing the rim of the cup in her mouth, they could hear her choke out sobs.

"Drink it. You asked for it, didn't you?"

She couldn't shake her head when she could feel the crimson liquid stain her mouth, some spilling out at the sides and below, letting it stain her attire. It was even worse when Coviello tilted it higher, letting the eye slip in her mouth.

How unhygienic, mused Coviello. But that's alright.

They're quite used to cleaning things up themselves.

Shoving every last drop of the unholiest drinks known to man, they could hear the soft shuffling from outside. Pausing, they lowered the cup, their eyes darting from the doorway.

It was left ajar.

Coviello knew what that meant.

If there is something they're quite proud of, it'd be that they can always find you.

Wherever you are, whatever place you ended up in, Coviello always knows where to look first. In fact, it had been something they held their pride on, in a sick and twisted way.

It simply shows that even if you were separated from them, you'll always find yourself back in their arms, one way or another.

Still... Coviello couldn't deny that your escape was futile. It had been fueled by survival instincts, and they remembered just how fearful you got when they caught you.

They may enjoy your company, but they don't enjoy being abandoned without an explanation.

Stepping to the second cart, they checked one of the rooms inside to see if you were there. Their lips seem to stretch to a smile upon seeing that yes, you were.

Maybe they were harsh to have your legs be bound like a mermaid's tail, or to have you consume such a lethal drink from misbehaving the last time. Though, they ignored that now.

To them, they got what they wanted.

It's such a shame that no one will find out where they went, though. Especially to the ones who had received the kiss of death.

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

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