But uh yes. Tatta plz. My tatsuta kodaiiiii

Have a great one! Let me know if you would like more directions from me. Tyyyyy!

hi! 💕 i am so excited to have you here, tysm for reaching out ❤️✨️

i don't usually answer requests until i have the story written, but i definitely wanted to say hello and let you know that i'm working on it for you 🫶🏻 sweet Tatta is normally a background character in my stories, but i have had the urge to write him as a main for a while; i'm so excited you asked! 🥹

so far my brain has come up with:

○ Tatta x Reader crush confession; i'm thinking Beach era

○ Tatta x Reader in which they play Tag together; maybe friends or lovers from the real world

@dovepaw3000 let me know what you think (and if there's anything specific about Reader you want to have included); tysm again for being here 💕

anyone else have something they want to see with Tatta? 🥰 you know what to do ✨️

• Pairing: Tatta x Reader

• Genre: Angst / Hurt-Comfort

• Warnings: mentions of sexual assault

• Setting: Borderland – a Heart Game

⸻

You didn’t think the Borderland could throw anything worse at you than what it already had. But somehow, it always did.

The card was a 7 of Hearts—one of those twisted games that preyed on emotions. Lies, betrayal, trust. And by some cosmic cruelty, you and Tatta ended up in it together.

The game was called “Whisperer.” The rules were simple, but brutal. Five players. One is secretly chosen as the “liar.” The rest must figure out who. If the wrong person is chosen, everyone else dies. But here’s the catch: to gain clues, you had to reveal personal truths—painful ones.

You watched Tatta’s face pale when the rules were announced. You felt his hand slip into yours the second the doors to the arena locked. “We’ll get through it,” he said, though his voice trembled.

The first round started innocently enough. Someone admitted to stealing food. Another confessed to sabotaging a game once. You stayed quiet, but you could feel the tension in the room curling tighter with every truth.

Then it was your turn.

“What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you here?” the voice of the game asked.

Your chest tightened. A memory flashed behind your eyes. That night. That man. The wall against your back. The way Tatta’s voice had cut through the darkness.

You hesitated.

But then you looked at him. At his wide, soft eyes. And you took a breath.

“I was nearly assaulted after a game,” you said quietly. “He followed me. Cornered me. I thought… I thought that was it. But Tatta saved me.”

The room fell silent.

Tatta’s jaw clenched. His hand reached for yours beneath the table and squeezed tight. Not for the game. Not for appearances. For you.

Later, during a break, you sat alone with him in a dim hallway. The others had gone to think, to accuse, to unravel the lies.

Tatta sat beside you, knees drawn up, eyes focused on the ground.

“I hated hearing you say it,” he said, his voice low. “I mean, I knew. I was there. But hearing you admit it like that… I wish I could’ve taken it away. Taken all of it.”

You turned to him slowly. “You did. You’re the reason I survived it.”

He looked at you then, really looked. There was something heavy in his eyes. Something that had been building between you both for days. Weeks.

“I’m so scared of losing you,” he whispered. “This place—these games—it could take you from me, just like that. And I don’t know if I could survive that.”

You reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “You won’t lose me. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

He leaned in before he could second-guess himself.

The kiss was deeper this time. Hungrier. Full of every unspoken fear and hope he’d bottled up for too long. You kissed him back like your life depended on it—because in a place like this, maybe it did.

The final round of the game came hours later. The liar was revealed—it wasn’t either of you.

You lived.

And when the game ended, when the arena doors opened and fresh air hit your lungs, you reached for his hand again, just like before.

But this time, Tatta didn’t just hold it—he laced your fingers through his and pulled you into him like he needed you there.

“You’re mine,” he murmured into your hair, voice almost shaking. “And I’m yours.”

You closed your eyes, heart full, body pressed against his chest.

“My love is mine,” you whispered back, “all mine.”

_______________

Hello guys~

I think imma make a last boss one because why not

• Pairing: Tatta x Reader (Y/N)

• Genre: Angst / Hurt-Comfort

• Warnings: Attempted sexual assault (non-graphic), trauma-kind of, protective themes

• Setting: Borderland

⸻

The Borderland wasn’t a place for softness. It chewed people up, tore them apart, and spit out whatever was left—cold, desperate, numb. You had seen things here that changed you. Hurt you. Broke you.

But somehow, Tatta had stayed kind.

You didn’t know how he’d managed it. Maybe he was just built differently. While others sharpened themselves into weapons, he held on to something warmer. Something human. You noticed it in the way he smiled at strangers, even when he was afraid. How he helped people carry supplies, even if they wouldn’t say thank you. How he looked at you—like you mattered in a world that treated everyone like they didn’t.

Maybe that was why it hit so hard the night everything went wrong.

It was after a long, brutal game. The kind that left you shaken and raw, with blood on your hands and guilt in your chest. Everyone had scattered to rest, some to grieve. You wandered away from the group, needing space, air—anything.

But you weren’t alone.

The man—some player you didn’t even recognize—must’ve followed you from the game site. His smile was wrong. Too calm. Too smooth. You felt it in your gut before he even touched you.

“Hey,” he said, voice slurring with fake charm. “You don’t have to be alone tonight. I can make you feel better.”

You backed up, heart hammering. “I’m not interested.”

He grabbed your wrist. Hard. “I wasn’t asking.”

Panic exploded in your chest. You struggled, kicked, tried to scream, but he shoved you against the wall of a half-destroyed building, his grip bruising, his body pressing in. Your voice caught in your throat. Terror swallowed you whole.

Until—

“HEY!”

A voice, sharp and furious.

Then a blur—Tatta.

He crashed into the man without hesitation, knocking him off you with a force you didn’t even know he had. The two of them hit the ground hard. Fists flew. The attacker was bigger, stronger, but Tatta fought like a man possessed.

“Forcing someone?! You sick bastard!” he yelled, slamming his knee into the guy’s stomach.

You scrambled back, trembling, barely able to breathe. By the time Tatta stood up, the man was groaning on the ground, curled in pain.

Tatta turned to you, panting, wide-eyed. “Y/N… are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You could barely nod. “N-no. Not really. You got there in time.”

Without another word, Tatta rushed to your side, pulling you into his arms. He held you like you might fall apart at any second—like holding you was the only way he could keep himself together.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I should’ve been there sooner.”

You shook your head, clutching him. “You were there. That’s all that matters.”

That night, he didn’t leave your side. He stayed with you until the trembling stopped. Until your breathing steadied. Until you fell asleep wrapped in his arms, safer than you’d felt in days.

And something shifted after that.

You started noticing the way he looked at you—so gentle, like you were something fragile he’d protect with his life. And you looked at him, really looked at him—this quiet, brave man who had never tried to take anything from you but had given you everything: comfort, safety, time.

Over the next few weeks, your bond grew.

He’d brush your hand and blush like crazy. You’d tease him and feel a warmth bloom in your chest. You stopped sleeping alone. Started waiting for him after games. And when the fear came back—those sudden flashes of memory—he was always there to calm you down.

It wasn’t a sudden explosion. It was a slow burn. A growing light.

Until one day, as you sat under a ruined tree near the edge of the city ruins, watching the pink of the sunset drip through the sky, you reached for his hand and didn’t let go.

He looked at you like you hung the stars.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured.

You smiled softly. “You loved me right. When I needed it the most.”

He leaned in, cautious but hopeful, and you met him halfway.

The kiss was soft. Healing. Like home.

In a world built to destroy you, you’d found something that made you want to survive.

Tatta held you like a promise.

“My love is mine,” he whispered against your skin that night, voice steady and sure, “all mine.”

And you let yourself believe it.

Because with him—you finally felt like you were.

_______________

I ofc will be making a second part of this~

Kuina : I didn't even want one, my dad made me buy it.

Usagi : Mine's a family heirloom. Been passed down for generations.