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vtoriacore · 11 months

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✧ all eyes on you

note: this gotta be my fave vil piece ive ever written god damn i think this is me at my peak with writing. ill never write so well again and that sucks 💀 this is like 2.4k words and i swear half of it is vils outfit description /j someone also tell me why this is becoming a vil cantered blog LMAO

warning: slightly suggestive? bit of kissing at the end but nothing explicit! some jealousy that could be interpreted as slightly yandere/toxic but not really. gn!reader

synopsis: i cannot be bothered coming up with something elaborate after writing this. -> you're in a club. you dance w a random person. vil sees you. lights camera action bestie, the stage is yours to share and exit to the very end.

reblogs much appreciated, mwah 💞💓

He's already had too much Hennessy, he knew it. But looking at you through his translucent, violet sun glasses (perfectly matching his alluring eyes) he couldn't help but want to drink you in even more. It was no surprise you were here, in the same damn exclusive club as him, dancing with some nobody - no chemistry, no feelings attached.

He gripped the glass tighter, sharp lavender nails digging into his palm enough to leave marks. The sight was nothing short of infuriating, and he wanted to do nothing more but to rip you away from the leech vying for your attention when it should only be on him. Slamming the drink onto the table with a low growl, he stood up, all eyes immediately on him.

And why wouldn't they be? As always, he was the best dressed on the scene - the rich lilac, laced, mini slip-dress perfectly hugging his curves and off shoulder matching bolero cardigan accentuating his clavicles. And with every click of his six inch plum coloured t-strap d'orsay platforms (perfectly matching the beat of the current song) he grew more and more aware of the irony of the scene; virtually everyone was admiring his form, none of whom he would spare a single glance, but you.

Golden, diamond shaped earrings jangling as he walked (something he found rather irritating the more he focused on it), Vil tucked his purse closer to his side with a nonchalant flip of his platinum blonde locks. Normally, he'd feel very confident with his stature and mannerisms, but the way you still haven't graced him with even a single look, he felt it diminish. Oh, how he hated, down-right despised the effect you had on him! What right did you, so insignificant- ah no, that'd be too harsh considering he only ever silently sought out your approval and affection, but he'd digress. What right did you have making him feel this worthless, when he has never looked better? Never felt better?

The première of this new movie, Vil being the lead protagonist, was supposed to be the best fucking night of his life! He'd already strolled the red carpet as if he owned the event, knowing damn well it wasn't the truth because even then he was only seeking your eyes and finding them to be on anything but him. How could you disregard him so coldly, even now as he was approaching your form, more restless than ever?

"[Name], fancy seeing you here of all places," voice levelled, Vil addressed you directly; he wanted you to feel nervous under his gaze once you turned, it's what you deserve after causing him this much distress when it was supposed to be his big night. His official debut into the world of heroism.

"Ah, Schoenheit. Of course you'd run into me," he absolutely hated your wording, you were making him seem desparate - and although he was, you had no right even alluding to such thing!

"Disregarding that, it's quite rude not facing someone when they're speaking to you," he felt his nerves almost snap, seeing you turn around only to grace him with a teasing smirk, head tilted and eyes full of recognition.

"What, you miss me checking you out?" you licked your bottom lip, and it drove him almost as insane as your biting remark.

"I have the whole world focused on me, the last thing I'd need is you 'checking' me out," he rolled his eyes, shimmery gold eyeshadow accentuating the gesture.

"And here I thought we'd finally get some privacy so I could admire you," you laughed, and it brought him great satisfaction seeing the person behind you narrow their eyes in discontent. Without so much as a word, they slinked away with a small click of their tongue, something Vil would comment on in a later interview just out of spite. Was it petty? Maybe, but no one disrespects him and gets away with it - especially if they dare affiliate themselves with you.

"Is that what you were hoping for?" Vil raised a perfectly done eyebrow, crossing his arms in the process. He loved the way your eyes momentarily travelled to his chest before meeting his again.

"Sure, we can go with that if it soothes your ego," you looked to the left, observing the crowd watching the interaction with great interest before narrowing your eyes at the person who walked away from you. It irked him that you cared enough about that leech to even remember dancing with them, but your annoyance at them made it worth it - it was a sign you wouldn't seek them out at the very least!

"Interesting you'd say that, seeing your own just got shattered by . . . who was that again? One of the background characters who couldn't act to save their own life?" he knew his perfect, award winning smile would irritate you as always - it was both a great pleasure and a disdain seeing you vexxed by the accusation.

"You're the one who interrupted me, you know," you placed a hand on your hip, staring Vil down (well, up), and his eyes couldn't help but rake over the upper half of your body. He knew it was probably the alcohol doing most of the thinking, but coupled with the ultraviolet lighting , he just couldn't help but wonder how good you'd feel against him in that moment - away from prying eyes of course.

"I did you a favour dear, I assume you've seen them seizing up our director just then?" you merely shrugged at the assertion, instead focusing on your perfectly done nails.

"Yeah I figured they'd try him next, anything for the headlines speculating who they're fucking, no?" you smiled once you finished your unnecessary examination, looking at Vil once more. He couldn't help but let out a low chuckle at the accusation, so genuine it turned a few heads your direction once more. And oh did Vil absolutely relish the envious stares directed your way, knowing damn well none of them could take your place.

"Very bold statement, you do know it's going to make the news and affect my own reputation?" he leaned in, whispering directly into your ear and yet all you could focus on was the gold rimmed necklace with the initials of your first and last name. Once he pulled away, Vil simply smiled - the way you suddenly flushed up made him somewhat giddy. There was no way in hell you'd even direct your gaze on anything other than him for the rest of the night, and the countless rumours of this encounter coupled with the accessory were certainly going to keep you up at night.

"W-well . . . With what you're pulling right now, I could really say the same," he found your aggrevated stutter endearing, simply shrugging as if unaffected by anything you do when the contrary applied.

"You're acting as if it isn't going to be good publicity, with your role as the lead romantic interest, this could be good for both of us," Vil knew you couldn't disagree with this, watching as for once you tried coming up with something to dspute the statement, to no avail.

"Whatever, I've had too much to drink to deal with this," you sighed out, beginning to walk away from him. This of course, wouldn't do - you were once again making him seem as if he were the one that should be following after you.

"Right, goodnight [Name]," he nodded at your back, beginning to turn around only to stop short once he noticed you turn your head, eyes brimming with confusion; it was perfect, you didn't expect a single thing and fell straight for the bait!

" . . . Oh," you furrowed your eyebrows, so softly no one but him would catch on. He was so used to seeing and observing you that by now, Vil had perfectly memorised each and every one of your gestures and mannerisms. This, although something he prided himself on as he was quite perceptive, was simply maddening. His hyper-awareness of having you on his mind too much and for way too long didn't help this fact either.

"What is it?" he was going to get a straightforward answer from you for a change, and he realised you knew it from the little twitch of your lips. You certainly weren't an easy read, to the outsiders of course.

"Well, I just thought . . ." you were reluctant to voice your thoughts, coaxing him into softening his features as silent encouragement - something you picked up on after a few brief seconds.

"I just thought you might want to come somewhere more quiet, with me" you almost whispered, no doubt letting the alcohol affect some of your judgement. Under normal circumstances, Vil knew you'd probably make more sassy remarks but this? You weren't even attempting to make your tone seem insincere, face devoid of your usual show of defiance to anything he does. Such simple action, and yet it had his pulse quicken by too much of a large margin to be considered a normal reaction.

"On second thought, that seems like the perfect remedy for my oncoming headache," he let a faux smile overtake his face, walking closer and closer up to you, until your arms were brushing against each other. To anyone else, it'd simply seem as though the club was too full, but you both knew the intimacy that came with the action - Vil found it unnerving, just how warm it made his face feel when he's already kissed you countless times, both in practice and for the official filming of the scenes. But he did suppose this was something done out of one's volition, so who could realistically fault him for feeling this way?

"You know, absolutely no one uses the corner booths, even though they're all secluded from the main body of the building and perfect to hide away," you spoke up, rather shyly for someone of your disposition, but Vil found it absolutely delightful. Everything he'd done in an effort to get you to himself was finally paying off.

"Well, this is a club for a reason. Most people don't come here to sit around," he purposefully brushed his fingers against yours, the cold, no doubt expensive jewelled rings causing goosebumps to erupt all over your arm.

"Hah, surely they get tired at some point," you playfully rolled your eyes as the both of you walked through a dark archway, music slowly fading to a pleasant, muted buzz.

"Alcohol seems to have the opposite effect it's supposed to when you're clubbing, you'll come to learn soon enough," Vil flashed you a smirk, his cherry red lips catching your attention momentarily before you glanced away. He wondered if he should be happy at your sudden change of personality- was this the real you or just another elaborate show? Either way, he loved it.

"Are you implying something there, Schoenheit?" your teasing, accusatory remark made him click his tongue in a faux display of displeasure before he replied with his own, "Must you analyse every one of my statements?"

"It's not my fault they're usually loaded," your genuine giggle almost made him break the façade.

"How flattering you think me this complex," your smile dropped at that before you turned to fully face Vil, almost catching him off guard as he stopped to mirrror your action with intrigue painting his lilac irises.

"You are," barely two words and he could feel his breath hitch - and the worst part, he didn't even know why! Was it the lack of people around that made this moment feel so intimate? Or was it the courtesy of the dim room with its scarlet lighting making it seem like some romantic scene from a movie?

"You know . . . I still don't understand," you started to speak, voice low yet sincere. He felt himself drawing in a breath but before he could ask anything you spoke up yet again, "Am I overthinking it . . . ?"

"Overthinking what?" it was a miracle he could even speak clearly with how intently you were observing him. He knew he looked perfect, but with your gaze boring so deeply into him, he felt like you could see every flaw - he can't recall a time he felt so vulnerable.

"Ah . . . Nevermind. Ignore me, I wasn't thinking straight," your sudden shake of the head popped the bubble of tension you both felt. Vil felt his eyebrows furrow, a slight pout forming on his face.

"No. You will tell me," he asserted with a hardened resolve, coming ever closer to you as you backed up; his step forward, your step back. Rinse and repeat. Yet when your back had finally hit the ebony wall, you averted your gaze instead of saying anything.

"[Name], I'm serious, don't make me pry it out a different method," Vil leaned in closer to you, grabbing your chin gently to make you look right at him. He'd be damned if he let you slip away now, just when you were about to reveal everything.

"Are you serious, though?" your disappointed gaze had his heart momentarily shatter and before his emotions got the better of him, you once again murmured before he could even breathe, "about me . . .?"

His lips parted, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt speechless. Was there even a way for him to convey just how serious he was about you using words, using actions, using feelings alone? Vil could physically feel the pressure of the tension pushing down onto him, and his grip on you loosened.

"I-I see," you closed your eyes in defeat at the silence, and in that very moment he hated himself more than ever.

"I am. Believe me, I am so very serious, so very sure about you. Forgive my silence, I didn't expect to . . . " he trailed off, not thinking straight when you graced him with the sight of your brilliant eyes once more. The surprised flush of your cheeks made him feel slightly nervous; his feelings were out in the open, but would you reciprocate?

He didn't need to ponder the question too long, for in the next moment and without any hesitation, you were pulling him flush against you in an effort to connect your lips. He found himself tilting his head, slipping his sunglasses off with one hand before abandoning them and his purse both on the ground. It didn't matter they were both expensive and about to be ruined, not when the price of your feelings would be too disrespectful to compare to some lousy materialistic items he could replace later.

His hands found purchase on your waist, gently caressing the curvature in an effort to memorise every inch; the way you leaned into him more had him ignoring his burning lungs as they cried out for oxygen. With the way you felt against him, Vil only wanted to breathe you in; everything else be damned. He couldn't deny the disappointment when you had pulled away, but the sight of your burning face and lidded eyes made it worth breaking away anyway.

"I- . . . Damn, I'm sorry," your sudden nervous laugh caused a small smile to rise up on his own flushed face.

"You will be. No one gets away smudging my lipstick darling," you relaxed into Vil's arms at the remark, and he absolutely relished in the bliss of your content gaze and serene demeanor.

"And how do I pay back, hm?" you regained your confidence, but found it quickly simmer down once he spoke again, "Let me smudge yours even more."

You didn't hesitate to pull him back in for a second.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #twst vil #twst reader insert #im so normal about this man i swear please believe me #no delusions #anyways moving onto writing some rook stuff next there isn't enough content for that man

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16-18-06 · 3 months

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WILSON IS TOUCHING MAX OH GOD

#dst maxwell #dst wilson #maxwil #they are in love #i swear #it's not just my delusions #klei said they gonna drop more lore #i want to see there maxwell making out with wilson #or i just want to see max and wilson together #please klei make old toxic men canon

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chronicowboy · 1 year

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Its embarrassing really. Eddie would like to make it abundantly clear that he's very aware its embarrassing. Mortifying, even. Humiliating, etcetera.

Really, its nothing.

Its just... Well, the bride had frozen outside, a few feet away from a blossom tree, and the winds had been whipping the petals around them as they worked on her, and Buck had looked so beautiful backlit by the sun as he spoke with the bride about her dream wedding. And then a petal had drifted into Buck's hair, and Eddie had been paying a little too much attention to how it was almost the same shade of pink as his birthmark, and then there had been a searing pain slicing through the juncture of his thumb.

Its nothing.

(Its embarrassing. He's a thirty-five year old man, a firefighter, for god's sake!, and he cut himself because he was distracted by a flower in Buck's hair like a schoolgirl staring at her crush. Yeah, its definitely embarrassing.)

Bobby had sent him back to the ambulance to deal with the cut which is how he finds himself here, trying to rip through the tape with his teeth as he fumbles the gauze he was trying to hold in place with nothing more than will power and an injured thumb.

The gauze drifts away on the same wind that had carried that fucking petal, but a boot stomps on it before it can fly away into the ether. With a sigh, Eddie tilts his head up to squint at Buck.

"Need a hand?" Buck quirks an eyebrow at the sluggishly bleeding cut, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. Eddie has to fight to keep his face blank, Buck's smug joy damn infectious.

Eddie doesn't answer him, just hands Buck a fresh gauze pad and the roll of tape. Buck sets the tape down on the floor of the rig as he crouches and picks up Eddie's hand instead. Eddie has to hold his breath to stop it hitching in his chest, a revelation even Buck wouldn't miss, at the tenderness of Buck's hold. Its achingly gentle, so soft Eddie almost wouldn't be sure anyone was touching him at all if it weren't for the way Buck's fingertips burn into his skin like tattoos.

When Buck leans in close to inspect the wound, so close that Eddie can feel his breath on the skin of his neck, he leans back on his uninjured hand for a moment of respite, a breath of cool air against his warm cheeks.

Buck wipes away the drying blood with a carefulness that Eddie doesn't feel deserving of. Here, in Buck's hands, in Buck's care, he feels like something precious. No, like something holy. Like maybe all the pain and suffering was worth it if this is where he ends up, with Buck rubbing circles into his wrist as he presses the gauze to the cut.

"Hold it there," Buck murmurs quietly, something reverent in the way he moves his hand to make room for Eddie's fingers on the gauze, a choreographed dance like they've done this a thousand times before.

He reaches for the tape, discarding the saliva-sodden piece Eddie had been gnawing at helplessly, and rips off a new length with the serrated edge Eddie had forgotten existed. Buck cradles his hand once again, turning it upside down, and Eddie is irrationally terrified that his heart will appear in his palm as an offering.

(He wonders if Buck would take it, if Buck would know that he already has it, if Buck would tuck it right next to his own for safekeeping.)

Buck slides the tape onto his skin in one swift motion, kind enough not to mention how clammy Eddie's hands are, and smooths the edges of the tape down until Eddie is sure that his skin is going to combust with pure, aching want.

"There you go." Buck grins up at him, still crouched between his legs, something awful and awe-filled in his eyes. Eddie swallows and makes a show of inspecting Buck's work to avoid the heavy weight of Buck's gaze.

"Hm." Eddie twists his mouth into one of his Buck-and-Chris-named frog faces. "Should have had Chim do it instead."

"Excuse you!" Buck squawks indignantly. "I specialise in scratches!" Eddie looks up at him with a stuttering breath, tries to parse whether or not Buck realises what he just said and to whom he just said it. But Buck just scowls up at him, and that's when Eddie sees that goddamn fucking petal is still in his hair. "How'd you even do this anyway?"

"Here," Eddie says before he can think better of it, reaching forward with his bandaged hand, "you've got a little..." He plucks the petal from Buck's curls, fingers twitching to bury themselves there, and holds it out to Buck, so close he has to go cross-eyed to see it.

"Oh," Buck breathes as he takes it from Eddie, a bolt of lightning sparking where their fingers brush.

"You good, Eddie?" Bobby's voice breaks them from their moment, and Eddie jumps to his feet, shoving his litter into his pockets.

"All good, Cap. Nurse Buckley fixed me up." Eddie nudges Buck with the toe of his boot to avoid looking at the pink of his cheeks.

"Figured he would." Bobby's eyes dart between them, and Eddie flexes his hand to ground himself in the flare of pain.

Its nothing.

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bsd-elle · 1 year

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This is just my delusion talking, but when you look at the opening and the blatant foreshadowing with the Ferris wheel, I have to point out:

We first see Miri running in the opposite direction of the Ferris wheel.

And it cuts to the opening credits of the show, and Kazuki and Rei running after her.

One of the final shots is the three of them infront of the Ferris wheel, where Kazuki and Rei are facing it whereas Miri is facing the camera.

Which is, coincidentally, the same pov in Kazuki's latest Instagram post.

So.. What if this is another hint?

Maybe Miri realizes that Kazuki and Rei left her to be taken care of by her mother, and the rest of the episodes are her trying to get back to Kazuki and Rei, which is a full circle moment from episode 1.

Where, in Episode 1, we see Miri travelling to search for her father, an ambiguous mirage of her papa, and now, she's looking for her papas, actual people who love and care for her, and would watch their worlds burn for her to smile.

#buddy daddies #miri buddy daddies #rei buddy daddies #kazuki buddy daddies #buddy daddy spoilers #bd #kazuki kurusu #rei suwa #miri unasaka #kazurei #I swear this is my delusion talking #I'm so scared for the next episode I conjured this thing up #they broke me😭

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envy-of-the-apple · 1 year

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Yandere!Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

I haven’t written my man in soo longg. i claim to be an illumi stan but i only have like two fics for the guy. im so sorry illumi your dead fish eyes are the only eyes for me i swear. Highly inspired by this drabble made by flamingtrash. The way bestie writes illumi just lamenting just sends chills down my spine.

Target

(Warnings: Yandere, stalking, murder, more stalking, planning to murder, mentions of suicide)

Kill the husband, do whatever you want to the wife.

His mission is one of the simpler ones. He considers this busy work. His target is a regular civilian, a break from the numerous other assassins, hit-men, nen-users he typically was hired to do.

Still, Illumi takes his time, because every target deserves his vigilance, his dedication. It wouldn’t be right to just finish and go. He offers each life respect.

He remembers the reason why your husband has to die. Bribery, company theft, among many other things. The men who wanted him gone needed for him to disappear completely, not a trace of him left behind.

He has a feeling you wouldn’t go away just as easily.

It was a love marriage. You two met right after you graduated college, and it bloomed from there. Coffee dates, light night strolls, candlelight dinners. Domestic activities.

You loved your husband. Though Illumi isn’t intimate with the feeling, it’s clear to anyone who’s willing to watch. You’d been married for years, yet you still get so flustered at the mention of him. Twiddling thumbs, nervous laughter.

Your husband loves you too. Maybe just as much. He’s not as quick to show it. He’s close to inheriting the company from his father. He has a lot of work to do. It’s probably why he’s doing so many gray things. Your husband is stressed. He knows one day this will all catch up to him.

That day came when Illumi was handed 20 million jennies and a picture.

He watches because making it look like an accident is much harder to accomplish than it sounds. He considers pinning the blame on you, before he discards the thought. Insufficient.

But you really did love your husband. He isn’t usually so interested in his target’s marital affairs but he thinks he admires your loyalty. You’re so loving to him. Despite the busy lives you two lead, you manage to still think about him.

Like today, when you’re setting up the breakfast table. You place two bowls, despite the fact your husband’s still asleep in the bed you two share.

He’s been busy lately, constantly running from meeting to meeting. After a bit of scouting Illumi realizes that he’s only ever in two places: at the office, or in bed with you. Sometimes, just twice since Illumi has been observing, your husband crawls into a dark alley, filled with underdwellers, whispering about their latest schemes. He barely has time for breakfast.

A routine is being set in place. You make two plates, continuing to bustle away in the kitchen as you wait for him. He’ll leave in a hurry, as he always does, yelling out a ‘bye darling’ before slamming the door shut. You’ll come out of the kitchen a few minutes later to see the bowls untouched, and then you’ll frown. Like you always do.

And that worries Illumi because when your husband is gone and if you start putting together the pieces: always rushing everywhere, constantly being stressed, not eating breakfast anymore. He’d rather you be in the dark. He’d rather not waste his time killing you too. He wants you to play the part he set out to you; the heartbroken wife wondering how her husband could do this to himself when he was always so happy.

Today, Illumi decides to intervene when your husband leaves like that for the fifth day in a row. You hadn’t even realized the intruder when he casually steps into the dining room, too busy in the kitchen. He decides to dispose of your husband’s bowl in the bushes, where the stray cats can have their fill. It’s clean when Illumi drops the dish back to its place on the table.

You come out a few minutes later when Illumi safely retracts to his usual hiding spot. He watches you keenly, noting the perceived disappointment you have on your face like you’re already preparing yourself.

And then you stop, staring at the empty bowl.

A soft smile adorns your face. Your eyes crinkle.

You look so happy, as you sit down, eating your own breakfast. It confuses him, just how happy a small action made you.

It didn’t matter. This was good. If he kept this up, your husband’s demise would be a heartbroken tragedy, rather than suspected foul play. He shouldn’t be bothered by the details.

Days later, he still thinks about your smile.

He watches you more than he does his target.

Illumi can’t help himself. You’re so distracting. He doesn’t understand why. He should have been done with this mission weeks ago but he’s still here because he can’t understand you.

You’re normal by any standard. Completely average. You work a desk job, and come back home when you get off the clock. You have normal friends. You have a normal family. Nothing you do should surprise him.

But you do, nearly every day. He realizes you have these faces you show to others. Towards your co-workers, you’re polite and resigned. People who you’re closer to, family, close friends, your husband, you’re more sincere. You smile more. It’s fascinating to watch you switch depending on who you interact with.

It shouldn’t matter because everyone has different faces. Everyone does this, this is basic socialization in regard to his targets. You aren’t special.

Sometimes, Illumi catches himself wondering what face you would show him if you two ever met.

You’re so disgustingly normal as you sit in the living room of your house, watching a TV show he hardly cares about. You don’t seem to care either, more interested in babbling on the phone to your friend about some nonsense at work.

He should just kill you off too. It would be easier, less work on his part. It’s not like his clients care about what he does with you. You are an anomaly, but in the grand scheme of things, you are dispensable, irrelevant to his job. You won’t matter.

You shouldn’t matter.

You’re clumsy, it’s a common trait Illumi has noticed. You show your skill off almost every day. Take this moment, for instance, as you get up, you nearly drop your phone, catching it in the knick of time. You laugh to your friend about it in relief and Illumi thinks you wouldn’t be a good fit within his family. He strangely doesn’t mind your helplessness, however.

He catches himself again. He curses. He really should just kill you.

It’d be so easy to, it’s not like you made it hard. You don’t have any combat experience, you don’t even realize he’s there, right behind you, watching you work away in the kitchen as you continue to talk to your friend in utter obliviousness.

He’s close enough to smell your perfume.

When you turn, he’s back in his perch, onlooking the window. As usual, you don’t spot any evidence of the stranger being in your home, close enough to touch you. You continue stirring away a dish, still on the phone.

He really should just kill you.

Illumi thinks your friends serve their purpose.

Since he is unable to interrogate you, your friends do it for him. They get you drunk in the restaurant you three had booked weeks ago, tipsy on a strain of alcohol he’d barely consider strong. It’s enough to spill your deepest secrets he could never uncover himself. A childhood past files could never tell him.

Your friend makes a comment about how the kid version of you would probably be scandalized at how you turned out. A slurred laugh bubbles out of your lips. Illumi thinks it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard.

“You sound just like my husband,” You say with mirth. Your friend frowns.

“Speaking of him…are the two of you okay? He didn’t show up to the dinner party last week.” Your husband hadn’t. Instead, he’d left you alone while he went to go and make more blood money. You frown, like you’re remembering it too.

“Yeah,” You murmur, “He’s been busy lately. It’s something at work.”

“Has he been specific?” Another friend presses. You look pensive.

“Not really,” You respond. They frown at eachother, casting a knowing look.

“Stop,” You say, your voice losing all humor, “It’s not like that. You two think so lowly of him. He’s not that kind of man.” And it’s true. Your husband doesn’t cheat. He bribes and launders instead.

“He’s been…really tired lately. He sleeps like a rock all night, but in the morning it looks like he hadn’t even gotten a wink. His eye bags have eye bags.” You frown, taking another sip of your drink. “I always feel so guilty, like I should be doing something.”

“Have you tried speaking to him about it?” One asks.

You smile without mirth.

“He doesn’t talk to me. Sometimes-sometimes I feel like he really wants to, but is afraid to, which is so stupid. It’s like he doesn’t know that I’ll love him no matter what he does.”

Illumi believes you. He really does. He suddenly realizes that if your husband admitted everything he’s been doing right now; you’d forgive him, you’d accept him, you’d still love him.

You’re so loyal to him. Only him. Even when your husband doesn’t really deserve it, it was love. True love.

That’s why he was so drawn to you. He wanted a wife just like you. Hell, if he had a perfect wife, he’d launder, and bribe, and steal to keep you too.

He leaves after that. The mystery was solved. He could finally complete his mission.

He wastes no time getting to your home, getting to his target.

Killing the man was easy. Illumi barely breaks a sweat. Your husband is dead, and at his feet, within seconds.

Then he waits.

He waits for you to come home, he waits for you to see the scene. He decides that he’ll let you grieve for thirty seconds. Half a minute, before he breaks your neck, and then you’ll join your beloved.

He isn’t usually so gracious, but he feels indebted to you. He’s grateful that you showed him that something like this exists. Utter devotion. He wants someone like you in his life. Someone who will smile and laugh and be intertwined with him, forever.

He’ll pay it back by giving you time with your husband. It’s the least he can do.

The door clicks an hour later. He patiently waits. Waits for you to see your lover, waits for you to scream, waits for you to see him. He’ll give you thirty seconds. Just thirty seconds.

Forty-five seconds pass.

Your eyes meet his first.

You smile.

“Hey.”

You’re intoxicated. He can smell the wine from your lips as you stumble forward, lightly tripping on your heels. He’s close enough that you fall into him. He could have moved away, avoiding your clumsy body, letting you fall on a heap to the floor.

He’s never minded your clumsiness.

Illumi stays, gently pressing his fingertips into your shoulders, stabilizing you. You’re so soft under his touch. Delicate. He’s suddenly afraid a single move might snap you in half.

You laugh, and although your voice is heavy with alcohol, it’s so light and free. You look at him, really really look at him. Your eyes are glimmering and he’s wondering if the night sky itself was etched into your eyes.

“My hero,” You say so so lovingly and it clicks.

You think he’s your husband.

Why else would you be so happy? You can’t see him that well, not with your poor eyesight, an average human’s ability. Not when you’re so drunk off of the sweet wine he can practically taste from your lips.

You don’t see the dead body right at your feet. You just see Illumi.

Still, he doesn’t pull away. You don’t either, choosing to wrap your arms around his waist, drawing him closer. You’re so warm. You fit perfectly against his body.

If he presses himself any closer, if he brings his hand up, right by your neck, and squeezes just so slightly, he’d be able to feel all of you. The blood pumping in your veins, sending oxygen, nutrients, everything that keeps you here. You’re alive. You aren’t dead, not yet. That’s why you’re so warm, not a cold corpse.

He thinks he prefers you this way.

“Sorry I was so late,” You’re slurring your words, but he understands them anyway, “I hadn’t seen the girls in a while. Hope you’re not too mad.”

He doesn’t reply. You don’t seem to care, pressing up against him again. It feels so intimate, he’s not used to this. For once, in the many years he’s lived without doubt, he’s stuck.

You managed to do that to him. Disarm him. You are surely the most dangerous opponent he’s had to face.

You’re pulling away, a pout on your lips.

“I knew it, you are mad,” You sigh, “Is there any way you can forgive me? Maybe…”

You don’t finish your sentence, pressing up, messily pressing your warm lips to his. He’s kissed before, he’s not unnerved to the notion of touch, contact.

But he can taste the ambrosia on your tongue. It’s addictive.

“Sorry,” You whisper when you pull away. He doesn’t want you to. “I’m sorry.”

You’re looking at him again, and your eyes are simmering, smoldering with a feeling that looks so dirty. You’re looking at him with absolute adoration and he strangely feels like he’s about to break.

“You forgive me, right?”

He makes his decision when you intertwine your hand in his, leading him to your bedroom. He makes sure you avoid stepping over your husband, guiding you away from the body. You’re giggling in his arms, caressing his hands. His face.

Why would he give a fuck about having someone like you when he could just have you?

When you reach to turn on the bedroom light he’s quick to intervene, pinning you against the bed. Your intoxicated mind is eager to forget, clumsily reciprocating.

He reaffirms his decision when he bites your neck, hearing you moan and writhe beneath him.

He’ll keep you. After all, he’s worked so hard over these years. He deserves an award.

You’ll love him, the same way you loved your husband, the rotting corpse he hopes will burn somewhere far far away from you two.

And if you don’t. That’s okay too. Illumi has more than enough love to go around.

#dark content #yandere illumi zoldyck x reader #Dark Illumi Zoldyck #yandere #x reader #stalking #murder #Illumi laments about killing you a lot #he's just shy i swear #hired gun #suicide mention #implied dubcon #delusion #yandere hxh

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