#drabble request v01. 🌀 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wishluc · 11 months

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I love yandre himeko thou what about kafka thou??😍😍

Literally insane about her it's crazy

A Stellaron Hunter has no business in the Space Station, as far as you're aware.

But it's not like you can go anywhere with Kafka's gun under your chin, her pink eyes looking up at you with unabashed interest. The contrasting sensations of cold metal and her burning gaze sends your heart faltering, your mind spinning as you try to come up with a way to escape the situation.

"Now, my dear," Kafka's smooth voice sends shivers down your spine, and she grins, clearly having noticed the effect she has on you and taking great delight in it, "no need to be so rash. Didn't I tell you to stay put?"

You gulp, watching closely as her eyes narrow, "Uhm, Miss…" Your tongue falters mid-sentence, terror tightening its grip on you as Kafka pushes her weapon into your skin, as though to serve as a reminder, "I don't have access to—"

"Shh," she whispers, slowly withdrawing her gun. Just when you thought you could finally relax your tense figure, she swiftly grabs you by the waist and spins you around, slamming your face up against the wall, wrists held behind your back. Your gasp echoes through the room, but Kafka merely chuckles, "My apologies. I need to take certain precautions, as I'm sure you'll understand. Though if we're being honest, I don't mind your fight. It's what I like about you, your resolve, your determination…you're a clever little thing, aren't you?"

"And please, call me Kafka. We have more than enough time to get acquainted with each other, don't we?"

You only manage to wheeze out a few words before Kafka shushes you again, "I don't have—"

"That's perfectly alright," Her voice is still light, her tone airy, like your current predicament was just a normal occurrence for her, "I don't need any of that."

Then, with a steady hand pushing against the small of your back with unexpected force, you feel her other hand dig into your pocket. Your shuffling and twisting do nothing to slow her exploration, as she finally pulls out your ID card (although you couldn't see her, you could swear that she had a triumphant smile on her face).

"[Name]…a researcher, I see? How interesting. How long have you been working here, darling?"

"3 years now," you focus on your trembling fingers, ignoring the way they grazed Kafka's skin whenever you tried to stretch them out.

"Are you interested a change in careers, by any chance? I have a wonderful opportunity for you. Though…" she trails off, as if internally contemplating something, "I wouldn't want any of my companions getting too close to you either…"

You're not sure if her question warrants an answer, especially considering the clear fact that a researcher like you has no place among the criminals of the Stellaron Hunters.

"Or not," she chuckles, "maybe," she brings her lips right to your ear, and you go absolutely still, too afraid to even breathe, and then she lowers her voice, "you'd like to be my pet instead?"

You don't even have the time to process her words before she's laughing to herself, a soft, lovely sound that worms its way into your soul, "just kidding, of course."

You're not sure what to make of this woman, except for the fact that she was probably half-mad. And you were going to be stuck with her longer if nobody came in to help, and who knew what she'd do to you then?

"How about this?" Kafka's grip on your wrists loosens, and she instead goes to hold your shaking fingers, gently squeezing them in her hands, "I have work to do here, unfortunately, so we'll have to part ways. But I promise you that I'll find a way to come see you again, so then…You'll come to greet me, won't you?"

You nod, wordlessly, and she finally steps away, allowing you to turn around and come face-to-face with her. She's smiling, just as dangerous and as beautiful as when you first saw her, her eyes glimmering with something you can only identify as amusement, and she holds, in between gloved fingers, your ID card.

"Good," she looks you over one last time, pocketing the card, "I won't forget, darling. So you keep your end of the deal too, alright?"

You nod again, not trusting yourself to speak, and she begins to walk away, stopping at the door. Her head turns ever so slightly, her piercing gaze directed right at you as she utters her parting words, "I'll see you soon."

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

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wishluc · 10 months

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Hi there! Can I request a Yandere headcanons of Kafka and Himeko?

I don't do headcanons sorry!

Content Warnings: stalking, implied kidnapping & imprisonment

As you watch Himeko leave the ship, the sight of her captivating smile and the warm grasp of her hand around yours is burned into your memory, bright and blazing like her presence. Something inside you shrivels up as she walks away, yearning for her warmth again, and you can feel yourself visibly deflate once she's completely out of sight, the rhythmic clacking of her heels completely faded into the background. You close your eyes and try to recall the sensation of her lips against your skin, but your mind can't conjure the same feelings despite the image still evident. Even the stars around you seem to dim after her absence.

"Well, what's got you looking so down?"

Kafka walks out from behind you, her steps slow and purposeful as she regards you with an uncharacteristically stiff smile. Dread washes over you as you realize she must have seen the entire meeting, and you internally berate yourself for not noticing sooner.

"Nothing." "Mm, is that so? You're going to hurt my feelings, darling," she says, her voice devoid of any of her usual airiness, and her usual smile lacking its charming quirk, "not sure I quite like being second place. "

She cocks her head to the side, her eyes looking frighteningly dark despite the lights around her, "But I especially dislike being treated as a fool."

You flinch back, hands gripping the railing almost painfully tight now, "I wasn't— Himeko isn't—"

"Oh, so it's Himeko now?" She sighs, her tone dripping with faux sorrow—beneath it, you catch a tinge of something more bitter, more resentful, even— "My, and here I thought we had something special."

"We don't have anything," you correct her, "...were you watching the whole time?"

Her sharp smile is all the answer you need, "you're losing your touch, dearest, if you couldn't tell I was here. Or were you just looking for an excuse to give you more training?"

You roll your eyes in reply, but some part of you is unsettled by her confession. Even if you had been too distracted to realize, Himeko is far too clever and observant to let something like that slide. She should have noticed the additional presence immediately, but didn't.

Or maybe she wanted Kafka to stay.

The two of them, you were aware, weren't on the best terms. You had always chalked it up to their differences in ideology and reputation, but recently, you've started noticing that your presence seemed to fuel their antagonism in some way; feeding into the flames of their rivalry.

Himeko, like Kafka, was always planning ahead; planning her next destination, her next expedition. You had seen her in action yourself; standing behind her as she gazed on ahead, and later positioned beside her as she pointed out the station you were heading to, so you were certain there was rarely an occurrence she didn't account for.

"I really didn't know," you admit, soft enough so only she could hear, "otherwise, I wouldn't have..."

"You really need to stop with the excuses. It really isn't helping your case—especially since they're all lies," she puts put a finger to your lips, causing you to swallow your protests, "none of that, now."

"Honestly, I'm not that bothered by your silly games," she declares, filling you with uneasiness, "and lucky for you, I happen to like challenges."

It should be a good thing, that she's not too upset by your meeting with Himeko, but you know better than to take anything Kafka says too lightly.

"Kafka," you say, desperately trying to appease her, "you know I'm not leaving you. I can't, even if I wanted to."

It's the truth, for once—you could try to hop off the ship when Kafka was away, but she had long latched one of her colleagues onto you like some kind of terrifying guard dog, and you had no intention of testing just how dedicated he was to his post. Besides, even if you were to leave, you had no doubt that she'd find a way to track you down and drag you back.

At the very least, the statement earns genuine laughter from her.

A gloved hand rests on your back, and Kafka moves closer to you, "Terrible little thing you are, darling," you find some comfort in realizing that there's actual amusement hidden in her words, "I don't think you know how much you mean to me."

No, and you probably won't ever know, but your verbal assent isn't the response she anticipates, so you remain silent.

"Terrible," she mutters, her other hand cupping your cheek, "but all mine, aren't you?"

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