miyukis-writings

[miyukis-writings]

— Bound by Silk and Shadows. [VI]

pairing. ilumi zoldyck x (insert oc)

summary. In a quiet village, she runs a humble café, serving customers with a serene smile, unaware that she has captured the interest of one of the deadliest assassins alive. Ilumi Zoldyck, cold and emotionless, finds himself drawn to her—an anomaly in his carefully calculated world. She does not flinch under his piercing gaze, does not cower in fear like others do. And that intrigues him. What starts as silent observation soon spirals into obsession. He watches from the shadows, memorizing her every move, ensuring no one else dares to lay claim to what is his. Even Hisoka, ever the provocateur, finds amusement in Ilumi’s growing fixation. But Ilumi is not a man of patience. If she won’t come to him willingly… he may just have to take her. After all, a rare treasure should be kept safe—locked away, where no one else can touch.

tags. yandere ; kidnapping, manipulation ; friends to lovers ; eventual smut (will be tagged accordingly).

a.n. new header! also from my friend's art! i asked her to make ilumi looks buff bcs... why not? anyway, likes, reblog and follows are very much appreciated. xoxo miyuki

status. on-going // prologue, chapter I, chapter II, chapter III, chapter IV, chapter V

The hush of the evening settled over the room, thick as velvet, swallowing the distant sounds of the bustling district outside. A single lantern flickered in the corner, its golden glow casting slow-moving shadows across the tatami floor. The faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air, curling like invisible silk ribbons, a quiet testament to the passage of time within these walls.

The door slid open without a sound.

A shift in the air. A presence—measured, quiet, inescapable.

She did not lift her gaze immediately. Instead, she continued the slow, practiced ritual of pouring tea, the delicate stream of amber liquid filling the waiting cup. The warmth seeped through the porcelain, into her fingers, grounding her in the moment.

Then, as if drawn by an unseen force, she finally looked up.

Their eyes met.

A current passed between them—silent, taut, unreadable.

Ilumi stood in the doorway, the dim lantern light casting sharp lines across his features, his presence as composed as ever, yet undeniably invasive. He did not belong to this place, yet the room seemed to bend to accommodate him, as if recognizing something in him that even she could not name.

Recognition bloomed in the space between them, slow and inevitable.

She knew him.

Not from this place, not from this moment. But from somewhere before. Somewhere distant yet close enough that the memory settled into her bones before her mind could grasp it fully.

The late hours of the night. The quiet clink of porcelain against wood. The flickering candlelight in a café that never truly slept.

He had been there.

Always at the farthest table, a silent observer a midst whispered conversations and lingering patrons. Always with another man—the crimson haired man who laughed too easily, who spoke in riddles that slithered into one’s thoughts long after he had left.

And yet, it was not his friend she had noticed most.

It was him.

The quiet one. The watcher.

Her fingers tightened subtly around the cup, but her expression did not change. Instead, a small, knowing smile ghosted her lips, fleeting but deliberate.

“Please,” she said, voice smooth as silk. “Come in.”

Ilumi moved without hesitation, the door sliding shut behind him with an almost imperceptible finality. He lowered himself onto the cushion across from her, his motions precise, effortless.

She reached for the second cup, pouring tea with the same practiced grace she had performed countless times before. The fragrance of jasmine and warm earth curled into the air between them, filling the space where words had yet to settle.

For a moment, silence.

Not an awkward pause, but a deliberate one—an unspoken exchange neither of them rushed to fill.

Finally, she slid the cup toward him, her fingers barely grazing the lacquered surface of the table. “A long night?” she asked, her tone light, conversational.

Ilumi took the cup, the warmth bleeding into his fingertips. He did not drink immediately. Instead, he watched her, his gaze unreadable, unblinking.

“I don’t get tired.”

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, the sound like the distant chime of a wind bell. “That must be convenient.”

She lifted her own cup, taking a slow sip, allowing the warmth to settle in her chest. And yet, despite the practiced ease of her movements, she was keenly aware of the weight of his gaze, of the way it traced over her features, assessing, calculating.

“You remember me.”

Not a question. A statement.

She set her cup down gently, tilting her head slightly. “Should I not?”

A flicker of something passed through his gaze—something almost imperceptible, yet not entirely absent.

She leaned forward just a fraction, resting her chin against the back of her hand, her expression unreadable. “You were always a quiet one,” she mused. “Even back then.”

A pause.

Then—

“You were always watching, weren’t you?”

His gaze did not waver, but something in the air shifted.

“How do you know that?”

She took another sip of tea, the moment stretching between them, delicate yet taut.

Then, with a small, enigmatic smile, she finally answered.

“Intuition.”

A single word, wrapped in quiet certainty.

For the first time that evening, Ilumi stilled. Not in the way a man pauses to consider his next words, but in the way a predator stills when confronted with something unexpected.

Intuition.

A vague answer, yet somehow more unsettling than the truth.

Because if she had known—if she had sensed him watching her, even then—

Then she was far more perceptive than he had anticipated.

And that, perhaps, was the most intriguing thing of all. The room was steeped in the quiet hum of presence, the space between them measured by the soft clink of porcelain and the flickering glow of the lantern. Ilumi held his tea untouched, the steam curling in lazy tendrils against the dim air, yet his focus had shifted elsewhere.

His gaze drifted, slow and deliberate, drawn toward a small, solitary object set apart from their table.

A Gungi piece.

It lay in quiet exile upon the low wooden counter near the far wall, away from the careful arrangement of the board itself. The polished grain of its surface gleamed faintly beneath the lantern’s glow, a silent sentinel left behind—forgotten, or perhaps deliberately set aside.

Ilumi’s eyes lingered on it.

A single piece, displaced from its battlefield.

There was something in the way it rested there, apart from the others, that caught his attention. An anomaly. A deviation.

His fingers tightened imperceptibly around the delicate rim of his cup, though his expression betrayed nothing.

It was a subtle thing, this quiet thread of recognition. But it was there, weaving itself into his thoughts.

Because for all the countless strategies and calculated moves one could make in Gungi, there was always something unsettling about a piece that did not belong to the game in play.

And yet—

She had left it there.

Not discarded. Not forgotten.

Placed.

His gaze flickered back to her, searching.

She had not yet noticed his observation—or if she had, she gave no indication. Instead, she lifted her tea to her lips, the delicate tilt of her wrist practiced, unhurried.

The moment stretched, the hush of the room deepening.

Ilumi shifted his focus back to the Gungi piece one last time, his mind turning over quiet considerations.

Then, without a word, he looked away.

And just as silently, the piece remained where it was.

Ilumi’s gaze remained on the lone Gungi piece, the lantern light casting a faint sheen over its polished surface. There was a deliberateness in its placement, an intention behind its quiet separation from the board. A piece without a battlefield. A soldier without a war.

His fingers, still wrapped around the delicate porcelain of his cup, barely shifted as he finally spoke.

“You set that piece apart,” he observed, his voice a measured cadence, devoid of idle curiosity. “Why?”

Across from him, she paused, her fingers resting lightly on the rim of her cup. A shadow of something flickered through her expression—not surprise, nor hesitation, but the quiet acknowledgment of a question she had expected.

Her gaze followed his, landing upon the piece where it sat in patient exile.

“The game is only as strong as the hands that guide it,” she murmured, tilting her head slightly. “A misplaced piece can change everything—sometimes by accident, sometimes by choice.” Her fingers tapped once, absentmindedly, against the ceramic. “That one never belonged to the board. It has no role in the current match. But I keep it there… as a reminder.”

Ilumi’s attention remained unwavering. “A reminder of what?”

She let out a breath, thoughtful. “That even a piece left behind can still alter the game, given the right moment.” Her lips curved, the faintest ghost of a smile. “It only takes one move to change everything.”

Silence stretched between them, thick with an unspoken weight. The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows across her face, across the delicate silk of her sleeve as she reached forward, plucking the abandoned piece between her fingers. She held it lightly, turning it over in her palm before extending it toward him.

“Would you like to play?”

Ilumi did not immediately respond. His eyes flickered from the piece in her outstretched hand to her face, searching for something unseen. There was no nervousness in her offering, no hesitance—only the quiet confidence of someone who had played this game countless times before.

And for a brief moment, he wondered if she had been playing a different kind of game all along.

Finally, he set his cup down with a muted clink. Without breaking eye contact, he reached forward, taking the piece from her fingers.

“Very well,” he said, voice as smooth and unreadable as ever.

And so, the game began.

--- The quiet clatter of wooden pieces punctuated the silence between them, each move deliberate, each placement a quiet statement of intent. The Gungi board lay between them, its grid a battlefield of calculated strategies and unspoken wagers.

Her fingers moved with practiced grace, the soft brush of her sleeve against the lacquered surface the only whisper of hesitation before she set her piece down. She played intuitively, not relying solely on logic but on a deeper, instinctual understanding of the game’s rhythm. Her movements were fluid, almost effortless, yet laced with an unmistakable purpose.

Ilumi studied the board, his expression betraying nothing, yet the sharp gleam in his eyes revealed his analytical mind at work. He was a tactician, his every decision precise, his every action honed for efficiency. He did not simply move pieces—he dismantled possibilities, deconstructed patterns, unraveled intentions before they could fully form.

For a time, neither spoke.

The air between them was thick with the quiet tension of competition, of two minds feeling their way through the intricate dance of the game. The flickering lanterns cast elongated shadows over the board, stretching across the polished wood like ghosts of moves yet to be made.

It was her who finally broke the silence.

“You play as though every piece is disposable,” she mused, watching him reposition a knight with an almost surgical precision. “Sacrifices come easily to you.”

Ilumi did not look up. “Sacrifices are necessary.”

Her lips curved slightly, a knowing smile threading through her features. “Only if the victory is worth the cost.”

A pause.

For the briefest of moments, Ilumi’s fingers lingered over his next move. It was an imperceptible hesitation, one that most would not have noticed. But she did.

She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her gaze. “You’re considering my trap.”

Ilumi finally met her eyes. “You think it’s a trap?”

“I know it is,” she said simply. “The question is whether you believe it’s worth springing.”

A challenge.

The moment stretched between them, neither blinking, neither yielding. The air hummed with the tension of something far deeper than the game—an understanding that extended beyond the board.

Then, without another word, Ilumi placed his piece.

A bold move. One that disregarded the obvious play in favor of something unpredictable. Something dangerous.

She blinked, then let out a quiet laugh. “Interesting.”

She turned her attention back to the board, the smile lingering on her lips as she considered the new possibilities that had just unfolded.

The game stretched between them, each move a careful balance of aggression and restraint. She played with an almost poetic fluidity, her pieces moving like flowing ink across the board, while Ilumi's approach was surgical, calculated. Every turn he took was a dissection, peeling away at her defenses with the precision of a blade.

Yet, no matter how ruthlessly he cornered her, she never faltered.

The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows over the board, the glow illuminating the sharp angles of Ilumi’s face, the quiet confidence in her gaze. The room itself seemed to shrink around them, the world outside dissolving until only the two of them and the wooden battlefield remained.

Her fingers hovered over her next piece, her nails barely grazing the polished surface. She allowed herself a breath—deep, measured—before making her move. A single, decisive placement.

A quiet checkmate.

Ilumi’s gaze flickered across the board, analyzing the inevitable. His fingers rested against the edge of a captured piece, but he did not move it. Instead, he merely stared, silent.

She studied him, her expression unreadable. Then, with a slow blink, she tilted her head, amusement threading through her voice.

“You let me win.”

Ilumi’s eyes lifted to meet hers, dark and unwavering. “Did I?”

A silence passed between them, taut and humming with unspoken meaning. He had seen her trap. He had recognized the moment when she had begun tightening the noose. And yet, he had not stopped it.

She exhaled a soft laugh, reaching for the ceramic teapot beside them. The porcelain was warm beneath her fingers as she poured fresh tea into Ilumi’s cup. “A strange habit for someone who believes sacrifices are necessary.”

Ilumi watched the steam curl from the cup, his fingers tapping idly against the lacquered table. “Only when the sacrifice is my own.”

She paused at his words. For a brief moment, the weight of them settled in her chest like an unfamiliar stone. But instead of prying, she merely set the teapot down, her gaze returning to the board.

“Gungi is an art of patience,” she murmured, trailing a finger lightly over the captured pieces. “You can control the flow of the game, but if you only play for efficiency, you’ll never see the beauty in it.”

Ilumi’s expression remained unreadable, but something in his gaze lingered on her longer than before.

“You play beautifully,” he said at last.

She smiled. “And you play as if you’re always hunting something.”

At that, Ilumi leaned back slightly, regarding her with quiet interest. His presence was heavy, deliberate, like a shadow refusing to be shaken. Yet, despite the weight of him, she did not shrink beneath it.

Instead, she lifted her cup to her lips, eyes never leaving his.

“Well,” she said softly, the candlelight flickering between them. “Did you catch what you were hunting tonight?”

Ilumi did not answer immediately. Instead, he studied her—the way her fingers curled around the porcelain, the way the dim lighting softened her features, the way she sat across from him with an ease that felt both foreign and familiar.

Then, finally, he reached for his tea, lifting the cup in a silent toast.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, the ghost of something unreadable flickering behind his gaze.

And with that, the game ended.

As the final embers of their game cooled, the weight of silence settled between them. The candlelight flickered, casting elongated shadows across the wooden walls, the quiet hum of the wind beyond the paper doors whispering through the cracks.

Her victory still lingered on the board, but Ilumi’s expression remained unreadable. He traced a finger along the smooth edge of a Gungi piece, his touch light, contemplative.

For all her patience, for all her careful observation, she did not see it.

She did not see the exact moment she had sealed her fate.

She had only meant to be polite, to fill his cup once more before their evening came to a close. But as she reached for the teapot, she felt it—the subtle shift in the air, the quiet way Ilumi straightened, the way his eyes darkened, like a predator lowering itself into the grass.

She had won the game.

But the real hunt was only beginning.

“You’re still staying here tomorrow, aren’t you?” Ilumi asked, his voice smooth, absent of curiosity—as if he already knew the answer.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Yes,” she admitted, pouring the tea with steady hands. “There’s no other place I can go to. I’m stuck here throughout my whole life, anyway.”

Ilumi lifted his cup, watching the delicate ripples in the liquid. “Do you think this is where you belong?”

The question caught her off guard.

She blinked, searching his face for some hint of his intent. “I’m not sure how to put it,” she said lightly. “I guess, I can call it my home now.”

Ilumi did not respond. Instead, his fingers curled around the Gungi piece he had been toying with, lifting it between them. The candlelight reflected off its polished surface, the carving of a commander’s insignia etched into its side.

Then, without a word, he slipped the piece into his sleeve.

She frowned. “You—”

But before she could protest, she saw it.

The shift in his posture. The dark, endless void of his gaze locking onto hers.

Something primal clawed at the edges of her awareness, an instinctive, breath-stealing realization—this was not a man who let things go.

The tea in her hands suddenly felt heavier, her fingers tightening around the cup.

Ilumi studied her reaction with quiet amusement, setting his own cup down. The sound of porcelain meeting lacquer felt eerily final.

“You’re a difficult piece to place,” he murmured, as if speaking more to himself than to her.

She exhaled softly, willing herself to keep her composure. “I’m not a piece at all,” she corrected, forcing a small smile. “The game ended, remember?”

Ilumi tilted his head slightly, considering her words. Then, with a slow, deliberate ease, he leaned forward just enough for her to feel the weight of his presence.

“Not yet.”

And then—nothing.

A blur of movement. A breath stolen mid-inhale.

The teacup slipped from her grasp, shattering against the floor in a spray of porcelain shards and amber liquid.

The candlelight flickered wildly, but Ilumi had already vanished from his seat.

And she—

She was gone with him.

[miyukis-writings]

— Art Drop

Hello, all of those Ilumi's fangirls that had been reading my story! I'm just dropping by to tell you that I've been asking my friend to draw me a pfp for me XD

Miss girl did an amazing job and all of that <3

Anyways, you guys can check her on her ig which I'm going to be putting it after I showed everyone the picture that she drew for me ;)

Follow @xaviannakatzu for more of her art! xoxo miyuki

(gonna go and finished the part vi for bound by silk and shadows)

[miyukis-writings]

a.n. a sudden thought come across my head lately.

you see, i've been spending my whole day, reading a lot of fanfic about my (husband) ilumi and i realized that most of the (smut) fanfiction often makes him looks... uhm... rough? towards the 'reader'.

so, here's my take on how would ilumi thoughts about making 'love' with 'her'. how many children they would have.

(be kind, english is not my first language)

---

Ilumi was not a man of tenderness, nor was he someone who expressed his emotions in ways most would deem conventional. But love—if one could call it that—was something he had come to understand in his own way.

Would they have children?

Perhaps.

It was not a question of desire but inevitability. The Zoldyck bloodline was something to be preserved, strengthened. He knew this. But beyond duty, there was a part of him—one he barely acknowledged—that wanted to see a child born of her. A being that was a perfect blend of both of them, a creation that belonged to neither the darkness of his world nor the innocence of hers.

If they were to have children, it would not be many. One, perhaps two, at most. Ilumi was not the type to litter the world with heirs he could not control. He would be an ever-watchful father, strict yet present, ensuring that his child was capable, strong, and above all, safe. And if their child bore any resemblance to her—if they carried her warmth, her quiet resilience—Ilumi would be drawn to them, though he would never say so aloud.

But before children, there was intimacy—an intimacy that neither of them had been taught, but one they had learned through time spent together.

Ilumi did not approach love-making with passion in the way that others did. It was not rushed, nor was it desperate. Instead, it was calculated, deliberate, an act of possession as much as it was an act of devotion. His hands, trained for death, were uncharacteristically careful when they traced over her skin. He memorized her reactions with the same precision he used in battle, finding the smallest shifts in her breath, the way her body responded to him.

There was a quiet intensity to the way he touched her, as though he was memorizing her every inch, claiming her in ways that went beyond words. He was not rough, nor was he careless—Ilumi never did anything without purpose. When his lips met hers, it was never rushed, never fleeting. It was slow, controlled, as if savoring something he could never quite name.

And yet, there were moments—rare, fleeting—when his control slipped. When he whispered her name like a secret, when his grip tightened ever so slightly, betraying the depth of his need for her. When, for the briefest of moments, the perfect assassin became just a man—one who wanted, one who needed, one who loved.

But when it was over, he would return to himself, to the composed, calculating Ilumi she had come to know. Yet, there was always something different in the way he held her afterward, in the way his fingers absentmindedly traced over her wrist, her waist. As if ensuring she was still there. Still his.

Would they have children?

Yes.

And Ilumi would love them—quietly, protectively, in the only way he knew how.

[miyukis-writings]

— Bound by Silk and Shadows. [V]

pairing. ilumi zoldyck x (insert oc)

summary. In a quiet village, she runs a humble café, serving customers with a serene smile, unaware that she has captured the interest of one of the deadliest assassins alive. Ilumi Zoldyck, cold and emotionless, finds himself drawn to her—an anomaly in his carefully calculated world. She does not flinch under his piercing gaze, does not cower in fear like others do. And that intrigues him. What starts as silent observation soon spirals into obsession. He watches from the shadows, memorizing her every move, ensuring no one else dares to lay claim to what is his. Even Hisoka, ever the provocateur, finds amusement in Ilumi’s growing fixation. But Ilumi is not a man of patience. If she won’t come to him willingly… he may just have to take her. After all, a rare treasure should be kept safe—locked away, where no one else can touch.

tags. yandere ; kidnapping, manipulation ; friends to lovers ; eventual smut (will be tagged accordingly).

a.n. i am quite wondering how i'm going to end this story but, let's see. i'm probably going to end it at least 10-12 chapters ahead. can i make it seems like ilumi's going to kidnapped her? haha. anyway, like and reblog are very much appreciated. xoxo miyuki

status. on-going // chapter I, chapter II, chapter III, chapter IV, chapter VI

Soft laughter and hushed whispers filled the lavish parlor, the scent of fine incense curling through the air like a lingering promise. The warm glow of paper lanterns bathed the room in gold and crimson, shadows dancing against the wooden panels. She sat there—serene, untouchable—a woman wrapped in silk and mystery, her hands delicately moving the Gungi pieces as she played against yet another hopeful customer.

She always won.

But that wasn’t why they came.

Men from all walks of life found themselves drawn to her—merchants, nobles, even wandering samurai, all eager to claim even a moment of her time. Yet, she was not someone they could simply buy. She was the jewel of the establishment, a prize far beyond their reach. A single night in her company cost more than most could afford in a lifetime.

Many bid. Many failed.

Yet they still came, bewitched by the softness of her voice, the curve of her smile, and the delicate way she placed each Gungi piece on the board.

Tonight was no different.

She sat near the open window, her oiran kimono draped elegantly around her form, intricate floral patterns woven into deep violet silk. The golden ornaments in her hair glimmered under the candlelight, swaying gently as she tilted her head, a quiet hum escaping her lips—a melody of longing, of distant memories that no longer belonged to this world.

Beyond the window, the Entertainment District pulsed with life. Music, laughter, and the clatter of wooden sandals against the cobblestone paths filled the night air. Yet, she felt detached from it all, as though she were merely a specter watching from afar.

She counted the days.

How long had it been since she arrived here? How long had it been since she last walked freely, without the weight of expectation upon her shoulders?

Her fingers traced the edge of a Gungi piece absentmindedly. The customers around her had begun murmuring, their attention divided between their failed attempts to best her at the game and their hushed admiration of her presence. She paid them no mind. Their words, their praises, their longing gazes—all of it blurred together into an indistinct hum.

In the end, none of it mattered.

She was waiting.

For what, she did not know. Perhaps for a familiar face to appear in the crowd. Perhaps for the wind to carry her somewhere far away.

Or perhaps for something—someone—to finally set her free. --- Years passed. The world changed. But some things remained constant.

Ilumi Zoldyck had never stopped hunting.

A mission brought him to the Entertainment District, his steps unhurried as he walked past the vibrantly lit streets. Perfumed air, laughter, the distant strumming of a shamisen—all of it felt foreign to him. But then—

He saw her.

Sitting by the window, adorned in silk, moving Gungi pieces with effortless precision. Her hair was longer, her expression unreadable, yet undeniably her.

The moment froze. Something shifted within him.

He had searched for years. Countless trails had gone cold. Hope had dulled into calculation, and yet, she sat there—completely unaware of the shadow that had finally caught up to her.

His grip on his needles tightened. His chest felt—strange. Tight. The unfamiliar sensation of relief mixed with something far darker.

She was alive.

But she was not where she belonged.

A sharp, possessive heat burned through his veins. The Entertainment District, the men around her, the silk that clung to her form—none of it was right. None of it should exist in her world.

She belonged to him.

And now that he had found her again—

He would never let her slip away. --- Ilumi finished his mission swiftly, blood staining the edges of his gloves as he wiped them clean. The job had been effortless. But his mind was elsewhere.

Without hesitation, he walked toward the house where she resided, his presence unnoticed by the commoners too lost in their indulgences. As he neared the entrance, he observed the pitiful display before him—men begging.

The night was alive with the murmurs of desperate men. Near the entrance of the house where she resided, a gathering of unworthy souls clustered, their voices hushed yet frantic.

“Please, just one night—” a man begged, gripping the edge of the old woman’s sleeve. “I’ll pay what I have. Just a moment with her—”

The old woman scoffed, shaking off his grasp. “You think I run a charity? You don’t even have half of what she’s worth!”

Another man, heavier in build, pushed forward, his eyes gleaming with misplaced arrogance. “What if I pay in favors? You know me—I bring good business.”

The old woman’s patience wore thin. “Good business doesn’t fill my coffers. If you can’t afford her, step aside. She’s not for men like you.”

The air grew tense as the men exchanged glances, their desperation turning into bitter resentment. “What’s the point of having a woman no one can touch?” one spat.

“Watch your tongue,” the old woman warned, eyes sharp. “She’s more valuable untouched than ruined by the likes of you.”

From the shadows, Ilumi observed in silence. Their pathetic attempts to claim what was his sickened him. Soon, he would put an end to this.

She would never entertain another man’s gaze again.

Not when she was meant to belong to him. --- The old woman sat at her usual place near the entrance, a lacquered abacus resting on the table before her as she counted the night’s earnings. Her wrinkled hands moved methodically, sliding each bead with precision honed by decades of running this establishment.

She took a slow sip of tea, listening absentmindedly to the murmurs of men trying to haggle for a price they could never afford. She had heard it all before—desperate pleas, drunken boasts, whispered promises of fortune. Yet, none of them had enough to claim her.

With a sigh, she shuffled the stack of coin pouches before her, double-checking each sum. Business was thriving, but tonight, an unsettling tension lingered in the air. Something felt off.

Not long after, a certain long haired man walk straight into the room.

She had seen many men come and go, some desperate, others calculating. But none quite like the one who stood before her now.

His presence alone sent a shiver down her spine. Dark, unreadable eyes peered through her, stripping away any false bravado she might have had. The moment he placed the money on the counter—an amount far more than necessary—her breath caught in her throat.

She hesitated, her wrinkled hands trembling slightly as she reached for the bills. “You… you must understand, sir,” she began cautiously, forcing a smile. “She is not just anyone. Her company does not come cheap, even for just a conversation.”

“I’m aware,” Ilumi’s voice was quiet, smooth, but it carried a weight that made her stomach churn. “This is enough, isn’t it?”

The old woman swallowed hard, forcing herself to nod. “Y-yes… Of course, sir. Right this way.”

Despite her attempt to maintain composure, her hands were still unsteady as she led him to the upper floors. The hallway was quiet, save for the distant sound of music and laughter drifting from below. As they reached a door adorned with delicate floral patterns, the old woman hesitated once more.

She turned to him, her smile brittle. “She… does not take kindly to aggressive men,” she warned, though she immediately regretted her words when his cold gaze settled on her.

“I have no interest in forcing anything,” Ilumi replied simply. “You may leave now.”

The old woman gave a quick nod before shuffling away, relieved to put distance between herself and the unsettling man.

Ilumi exhaled softly, placing a hand on the door. Finally. After all these years, after all the searching—she was right behind this door.

And this time, she would not escape him.

With measured precision, he slid the door open.

--- The faint creak of the sliding door broke the stillness of the room. The golden glow of candlelight flickered as the evening breeze stirred the silk curtains, casting fleeting shadows against the walls. The scent of sandalwood lingered in the air, blending with the faint aroma of tea that had been set moments ago.

She sat by the low wooden table, back straight, hands poised as she poured herself a cup of tea. The delicate ceramic clinked softly against the tray, steady despite the subtle tension that had settled into the air.

Her gaze lifted, drawn instinctively toward the entrance.

The moment their eyes met, time seemed to slow.

A shadow stood at the doorway, the flickering lanterns behind him casting his figure in sharp relief. The moment stretched—a fleeting breath of recognition flashing in her gaze before she carefully masked it behind a gentle, unreadable expression.

He stepped forward, measured and silent, each movement calculated, deliberate. The weight of his presence seeped into the room, displacing the delicate tranquility she had surrounded herself with for years.

She lowered her gaze momentarily, her fingers tightening slightly around the porcelain cup before she forced herself to relax. When she looked up again, the same soft, practiced smile adorned her lips.

“Please,” she murmured, her voice smooth as silk. “Have a seat.”

Ilumi did not hesitate. His footfalls were soundless as he approached, lowering himself onto the cushion across from her. His expression remained unreadable, yet his gaze remained fixed on her, studying—memorizing.

She reached for the second cup, pouring the warm liquid with steady hands. The tea, a deep amber hue, released a faint herbal fragrance, its steam curling into the air between them.

For a moment, neither spoke.

The only sounds were the distant murmurs of the district beyond these walls—the echo of laughter, the soft notes of a shamisen being played somewhere far away. Yet, within this room, the world felt smaller, enclosed, as if only the two of them existed in this fleeting moment.

She pushed the cup toward him with practiced elegance, her fingers barely brushing against the lacquered tray.

“You must be tired,” she said finally, her voice carrying a quiet lilt. “A long night, perhaps?”

Ilumi took the cup, his movements as smooth as ever. He did not drink immediately. Instead, he studied the tea, as if searching for something in its swirling surface.

“I’m never tired.” His response was as curt as it was effortless.

A quiet chuckle left her lips, soft and fleeting. “How fortunate.”

She lifted her own cup, the warmth pressing against her palms as she took a slow sip. Beneath her composed demeanor, her mind raced—turning over memories buried beneath years of distance.

She knew him.

The realization had struck her the moment their eyes met.

It wasn’t the first time she had served him tea.

Not the first time she had watched him sit in front of her, silent and unreadable.

The café.

He was there.

She remembered now—not in the quiet mornings when sunlight streamed through the windows, but during the late hours of the night, when the streets had emptied, and only a few lingering souls remained.

He had never come alone.

Always, he had arrived with another man—a tall figure with wild, crimson hair and a sly, unsettling smile.

Even now, the memory was vivid.

The two of them would enter just as she was preparing to close, moving like phantoms through the dimly lit space. The crimson hair would speak in a slow, almost lazy drawl, his words playful yet laced with something sharper, something dangerous. He would tease, comment on the taste of the tea, the atmosphere, even her own expressions.

But Ilumi—he never said much.

He would sit across from the crimson hair guy, his gaze unreadable, his hands always poised with practiced elegance as he sipped his tea. There was something unsettling about their presence, something that made the air feel heavier, as if an invisible thread of tension lingered in the space between them.

Back then, she had assumed he was merely another passerby—a traveler stopping for a quiet respite in the dead of night.

Now, as she sat across from him once more, she realized how foolish that assumption had been.

She set her cup down gently, her fingers lingering against the rim before she finally spoke again.

“I never expected to see you again,” she admitted, the words carefully weighed, deliberately light. “How strange fate can be.”

Ilumi took a sip of his tea then, his gaze never leaving hers. He swallowed, setting the cup down with precise ease.

“You remember me.” It was not a question.

She tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering in her gaze. “Should I not?”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

The silence between them was not uncomfortable, but it was heavy—layered with unspoken thoughts, with threads of the past intertwining with the present.

Outside, the distant chime of wind bells rang, their soft notes drifting through the open window, carried by the evening breeze.

She exhaled softly, resting her chin against her hand. “You were always a quiet one,” she mused, a touch of nostalgia slipping into her tone. “Even back then.”

Ilumi watched her, his fingers resting lightly against the table’s edge. His gaze was unreadable, yet something in the way he regarded her felt different—like a hunter who had finally cornered his long-lost prey.

He had spent years searching for her.

And now, here she was.

Sitting across from him, pouring tea as if the years had not stretched endlessly between them.

Her voice, her gestures, even the faint way she hummed under her breath—it was the same.

And yet, it was different.

She was different.

Wrapped in silk and adorned in a world far removed from the one he had first seen her in.

Something unfamiliar twisted in his chest.

But he said nothing of it.

Instead, he leaned back slightly, his gaze never wavering.

“You serve tea the same way,” he remarked, his tone unreadable.

She blinked before a small, genuine chuckle escaped her lips. “Is that so?”

A pause.

Then—

“You were always watching, weren’t you?”

Ilumi’s eyes darkened just slightly, unreadable yet telling in their own way.

And for the first time in years, she wondered—

Had she been playing this game all along?

Or had she merely been another piece on his board?

[miyukis-writings]

— Brainrot Ideas (Ilumi Zoldyck)

pairing. ilumi zoldyck (insert reader)

tags. fluff

a.n. posted this for fun since i got writer block recently. i can't find anything to write for Bound by Silk and Shadows part 5. i hope you enjoy this short story(?)

status. on-going // for fun

i) Ilumi caught her sewing one of her torn kimono: She sat by the window, her fingers delicately threading a needle through the torn fabric of a silk kimono. The faint glow of candlelight illuminated her face, her brows slightly furrowed in concentration. She handled the fabric with practiced care, her movements slow and precise. Despite the dim light, her stitches were neat, each one carefully placed to mend the tear.

Ilumi had only intended to pass by, but the sight of her sewing stopped him in his tracks. He observed her silently, his sharp eyes trailing from the smooth curve of her hands to the soft expression on her face. The contrast was stark—she was in a place filled with death, yet she still carried an air of quiet resilience.

“You’re wasting your time.” His voice, low and composed, broke the silence.

She flinched slightly but didn’t stop sewing. She lifted her gaze, meeting his piercing black eyes. “It’s not a waste,” she replied softly. “This kimono was given to me, and it’s still good. A little tear doesn’t mean it should be discarded.”

Ilumi tilted his head slightly, intrigued by her reasoning. “You’re not obligated to mend it,” he stated, stepping further into the room. “If it’s damaged, you could have just asked for a new one.”

She smiled faintly, her fingers tightening around the fabric. “That would be wasteful,” she murmured. “Besides… I don’t like throwing things away just because they’re flawed.”

Ilumi studied her expression, noting the way she cradled the fabric as if it was something precious. Her words stirred something unfamiliar within him—something he couldn’t quite place.

He reached out without thinking, his fingers brushing against the silk. “You don’t have to do things yourself,” he said, his voice quieter this time.

Her eyes softened. “But I want to.”

For a moment, Ilumi simply stared at her, the candlelight flickering between them. Then, almost imperceptibly, he exhaled.

“Do as you wish.” His fingers lingered for just a second longer before he pulled away. “Just don’t hurt yourself.”

With that, he turned and left, but the warmth of that fleeting moment remained. ii) Ilumi catching a glimpse of her walking outside the Zoldyck's estate

She walked slowly through the estate’s garden, her hands brushing against the soft petals of the blooming flowers. The cool breeze carried the scent of fresh earth and cherry blossoms, making her close her eyes for a moment to savor the serenity. It was one of the few places within the Zoldyck estate where she felt like she could breathe.

Unbeknownst to her, a lone cherry blossom petal had landed on her hair, nestled between the loose strands that framed her face.

Ilumi stood at a distance, his sharp eyes watching her. He hadn’t intended to approach, but something about the way she carried herself—so effortlessly lost in the moment—kept him rooted in place. He wasn’t used to seeing such softness within the estate. Even among his family, there was no place for idle admiration of nature. And yet, there she was, finding beauty in something he had long deemed insignificant.

Silently, he closed the distance between them.

She gasped softly when she felt his presence behind her. Turning slightly, she tilted her head up to meet his gaze. “Ilumi?”

His expression remained unreadable as his hand lifted. Before she could react, his fingers gently brushed against her hair, plucking the stray cherry blossom petal free. Yuzuki blinked in surprise, watching as he held the delicate petal between his fingers.

“This was in your hair,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual.

She touched the spot where it had been, warmth spreading across her cheeks. “Oh… thank you.”

Ilumi didn’t reply immediately. He twirled the petal between his fingers, as if lost in thought, before letting it slip from his grasp, allowing the wind to carry it away. His gaze, however, remained on her.

“You like the garden,” he stated rather than asked.

She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s beautiful… peaceful.” Her lips curled into a soft smile. “I didn’t think a place like this existed here.”

Ilumi’s eyes lingered on her expression—so unlike the ones he was accustomed to seeing. There was no fear, no hesitation. Just quiet appreciation.

“You may come here whenever you wish,” he finally said, his voice carrying an odd gentleness.

She blinked, her smile widening slightly. “Really?”

Ilumi gave a slow nod. “As long as you don’t try to leave.”

She chuckled softly. “I understand.” She glanced back at the cherry blossoms swaying in the breeze. “Then I’ll come here often.”

Ilumi watched her for a moment longer before turning away. “Do as you please.”

But as he walked off, he found himself glancing at his fingers—the ones that had touched her hair. The sensation lingered, faint but persistent.

And for the first time, he found himself thinking that perhaps—just perhaps—he didn’t mind her presence here after all. iii) Ilumi caught a glimpse of her playing in the rain

The steady rhythm of raindrops drummed against the estate’s rooftops, filling the air with a gentle, soothing melody. Most of the household remained indoors, avoiding the downpour that turned the stone pathways into shimmering mirrors.

Ilumi had no reason to be outside, yet he found himself lingering by the window, gazing out into the garden.

That was when he saw her.

She stood in the middle of the courtyard, her arms outstretched as she twirled under the rain, a soft laugh escaping her lips. Water droplets clung to her hair, the fabric of her kimono damp and clinging to her frame, but she didn’t seem to care.

She was smiling.

Not the polite, reserved smile she wore in the estate. Not the gentle, wistful one she often gave him.

This was pure, unrestrained joy.

Ilumi remained silent, watching as she tilted her head back, allowing the rain to kiss her skin. For a moment, she looked so much younger—like a child with no worries, no burdens. A stark contrast to the girl he had taken from that wretched place years ago.

He had seen her quiet resilience, her patience, her determination to endure. But this—this carefree moment—was something he had never witnessed before.

He should have called her inside. Should have reminded her of the chill that would seep into her bones if she stayed out too long.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he stepped forward, just enough to see her clearly, his unreadable gaze never leaving her form.

She must have sensed something because she suddenly paused, turning toward him. Their eyes met, hers widening slightly in surprise.

Then, to his astonishment, she grinned at him.

A real, genuine grin—bright, unguarded, inviting.

For the first time in a long while, Ilumi felt something unfamiliar stir within him.

He wasn’t sure if he liked it.

[miyukis-writings]

— Bound by Silk and Shadows. [IV]

pairing. ilumi zoldyck x (insert oc)

summary. In a quiet village, she runs a humble café, serving customers with a serene smile, unaware that she has captured the interest of one of the deadliest assassins alive. Ilumi Zoldyck, cold and emotionless, finds himself drawn to her—an anomaly in his carefully calculated world. She does not flinch under his piercing gaze, does not cower in fear like others do. And that intrigues him. What starts as silent observation soon spirals into obsession. He watches from the shadows, memorizing her every move, ensuring no one else dares to lay claim to what is his. Even Hisoka, ever the provocateur, finds amusement in Ilumi’s growing fixation. But Ilumi is not a man of patience. If she won’t come to him willingly… he may just have to take her. After all, a rare treasure should be kept safe—locked away, where no one else can touch.

tags. yandere ; kidnapping, manipulation ; friends to lovers ; eventual smut (will be tagged accordingly).

a.n. there's a lot going on with my life lately. i've been pretty busy as well with my work. but, here's a new chapter i guess? it's 'Chap Goh Mei' today. anyone celebrating it? anyway, happy cny <3. i've been working on a new header as well for this story. i asked my friend to draw me ilumi yesterday along with 'her'. been wanting to show her full name in the story but, that can wait. enjoy, like and reblog are much appreciated! xoxo miyuki

status. on-going // prologue, chapter I, chapter II, chapter III, chapter V, chapter VI

The festival was winding down, but the air still thrummed with lingering excitement. The soft glow of paper lanterns bathed the village in a golden haze, and the distant sound of laughter and music wove through the crisp night air.

Far from the festival’s celebration, Ilumi Zoldyck stood at the edge of a secluded rooftop, watching the night unfold below him.

His gaze was impassive, sharp eyes scanning the crowd without any real investment. The noise, the colors, the joy—it was all meaningless to him. Yet, his attention lingered on the shrine, his mind tethered to a presence he couldn’t quite ignore. His sharp eyes swept over the festival without interest, his mind barely anchored to the present. He had no reason to linger in this place—no reason, except for the faint pull of curiosity.

Then, without warning—

A strange sensation gripped his chest.

It was subtle at first, an inexplicable prickle at the back of his mind, like a silent whisper brushing against his consciousness. A warning. His fingers twitched, his body stiffening. Something was wrong.

His instincts had never failed him before.

Ilumi’s gaze darkened as his eyes flickered toward the shrine’s rear entrance, where the shadows seemed deeper, more suffocating. The festival’s noise became distant, drowned out by the quiet hum of awareness settling into his bones.

He knew this feeling.

A disruption. An intrusion. A threat.

Hisoka Morow, standing at the festival’s outskirts, felt it too.

The candy-sweet scent of the night dulled, replaced by something far more tantalizing—the unmistakable thrill of an approaching climax. His golden eyes gleamed, his lips curling around the lollipop he lazily twirled between his fingers.

“Hmm~” Hisoka hummed, his gaze flickering toward the shrine.

He hadn’t been looking for anything in particular—just something to entertain him. And oh, wasn’t this just delightful? The air itself seemed to hold its breath, as if anticipating something deliciously tragic.

Ilumi’s pupils constricted.

The shrine’s rear entrance. The shadows there were deeper, darker, unnatural.

Hisoka noticed it too, his amusement only growing. Ilumi, ever the perfect predator, had already shifted into motion, soundless as he descended from the rooftop. Hisoka watched him, intrigued.

“Oh? How unlike you to move so fast, Ilumi~” Hisoka mused, voice dripping with teasing delight.

Ilumi ignored him. His focus was singular. That unnatural pull in his chest—something had happened.

A faint trace of warmth flickered in his mind, an echo of someone’s presence. It was subtle, barely there, but unmistakable.

Without a word, Ilumi moved, his body shifting into motion as effortlessly as breathing. His steps were soundless as he descended from the rooftop, his mind already sharpening into a singular focus.

The girl.

His steps quickened, his thoughts sharpening. He should not care—he had no reason to care—but the disturbance, the wrongness, would not leave him alone.

Hisoka chuckled, trailing behind like a ghostly spectator.

“Oh, this is getting exciting~”

The festival roared on, oblivious to the unseen chaos unfolding in its midst. But Ilumi and Hisoka?

They knew.

And soon, everyone else would too. --- The shrine stood silent, untouched by the chaos that had already unfolded within. The flickering lanterns illuminated the worn stone steps, their warm glow contrasting the sharp chill in the air. But something was missing. Something vital.

Ilumi landed soundlessly at the shrine’s rear entrance, his keen eyes scanning the surroundings with cold precision. Hisoka followed at his own leisurely pace, rolling the lollipop against his tongue as if he were merely on a casual stroll.

Ilumi stepped forward, the faintest hint of disturbed ground catching his attention. He knelt, his gloved fingers brushing against the dirt where footprints had been hastily erased. His pupils dilated.

Too clean. Too perfect. A professional job.

His gaze flickered to the entrance, then to the inside of the shrine. The scent of incense lingered in the air, but beneath it—something else.

The faint trace of struggle. The scent of blood.

She was gone.

Hisoka’s soft chuckle cut through the stillness. “Oh my~ seems like someone snatched our little flower right from under your nose.”

Ilumi said nothing. His mind was already reconstructing the scene, analyzing every possible scenario.

She was here. She was taken.

He glanced toward the inner shrine, where her ceremonial garments had been discarded, tossed carelessly to the side. His fingers twitched as he reached for a strand of fabric caught in the wooden panels. He rolled it between his fingers, feeling the lingering warmth of her presence.

She had just been here.

The timing was precise. Deliberate. Calculated.

Someone had planned this.

Ilumi’s grip on the fabric tightened imperceptibly. Unacceptable.

Hisoka tilted his head, watching Ilumi with eerie amusement. “How very unlike you to be this invested, Illu~ Did she perhaps leave a little impression on that cold heart of yours?”

Ilumi ignored him. His thoughts were a razor’s edge, slicing through the implications.

If they had planned to kidnap her, it meant she was still alive. That was the only reason he hadn’t left a trail of corpses yet.

Hisoka stretched lazily, his voice sing-song. “Well, well~ shall we go hunting, then? I do love a good chase.”

Ilumi stood, his silhouette bathed in the dim lantern light. His next words were quiet, but carried the weight of an inevitable fate.

“Find them.”

Hisoka’s grin widened.

“Oh, now you’re speaking my language.” --- She had always known the past would come to haunt her one day.

She just never thought it would happen so suddenly.

The first thing she noticed when she woke up was the pain.

Her wrists ached, bound tightly by thick ropes that chafed against her skin. The wooden chair beneath her creaked slightly as she shifted, her body sore from being tied in the same position for too long. The dim, flickering light of an oil lamp barely illuminated the damp room, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat.

A wave of nausea twisted in her stomach as she took in her surroundings.

She was back in their hands.

A heavy door creaked open, and the sound of footsteps echoed against the cold stone floor.

“Well, look who’s awake,” a deep voice drawled.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped forward, his scarred face twisted into a grin. His dark eyes gleamed with amusement as he leaned against the wooden table across from her.

“Been a long time, hasn’t it, little lady?”

Her jaw clenched, her nails digging into her palms.

“Let me go.”

The man chuckled, shaking his head. “See, that’s not how this works. Your dear ol’ dad left quite a debt before he kicked the bucket. And guess what? It didn’t just disappear when he died.”

He leaned in closer, his breath hot and laced with the stench of alcohol.

“Someone’s gotta pay up.”

She turned her head away, refusing to let him see the fear creeping into her expression.

“And what? You’re planning to sell me off?” she spat, her voice laced with anger despite the slight tremble.

The man smirked. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You’re worth too much now. Pretty little thing like you? We can make plenty of money by sending you to the Entertainment District. We might make a fortune by sending you there.”

The implication sent a cold chill down her spine.

She swallowed, forcing herself to stay calm. She wouldn’t break. Not here. Not in front of them.

The boss chuckled at her silence and reached out, gripping her chin with rough fingers.

“But don’t worry,” he purred, tilting her face up to meet his leering gaze. “You won’t be going anywhere. Not until I decide what to do with you.”

Her stomach twisted in fear. She had always known her father’s debt was a heavy burden, but she never imagined it would come back for her like this. She could feel her arms getting weaker, probably due to the drugs that they used. A group of men surrounded her after that, their expressions were a mix of greed and cruelty.

“She’s a pretty one,” another voice mused. “Might be worth something before we collect what’s owed.”

Fear iced over her veins. She tried to keep her breathing steady, tried to think, but the terror was suffocating. The drug coursing through her system made everything sluggish, her thoughts disjointed as she fought to stay conscious.

Her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

She had to get out.

One way or another—she had to escape. --- The night stretched long, suffocating in its eerie silence. The festival had long since ended, leaving only the remnants of distant laughter and the faint scent of fireworks clinging to the air. But for Ilumi and Hisoka, the world had shrunk down to a single objective.

Find her.

The two figures moved like shadows, their search methodical yet relentless. They had started at the shrine, but as the minutes passed, Ilumi expanded their search radius, combing through the winding village paths, the marketplace now abandoned, and the narrow alleyways that twisted like a labyrinth.

No trace of her. No scent. No lingering presence.

It was as if she had vanished entirely.

Hisoka, who had thus far been entertained by the pursuit, sighed dramatically, twirling a throwing card between his fingers. “My, my~ such a troublesome little thing, isn’t she? I must admit, watching you pace like this is quite the rare treat.”

Ilumi didn’t respond. His steps were quick, precise, his mind racing through the possibilities.

They wouldn’t have killed her. If they wanted her dead, they would have left the body. No. They took her somewhere. But where?

Hisoka hopped onto a rooftop with ease, scanning the empty streets below. “Tsk. What a shame. I was rather looking forward to seeing how she’d react to all this attention.” He leaned on one knee, red eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Now, Ilumi~ I wonder... why are you so tense? Could it be that you actually—”

Ilumi’s piercing gaze snapped up at him.

Hisoka grinned. “Ooh, scary~”

Ignoring him, Ilumi continued his search, his focus razor-sharp. Every street, every abandoned house, every possible hideout—nothing. No witnesses. No clues. No signs of a struggle.

It wasn’t just a simple abduction.

It was a disappearance.

The realization settled in his gut like ice. Hisoka, sensing the change in his demeanor, raised an eyebrow. “This is getting interesting~”

Ilumi said nothing. His fists clenched at his sides. She was his to keep. His to watch. His to decide.

And now, someone had dared to take her away.

Unacceptable.

Hisoka stretched, letting out a low hum of amusement. “So? What now, dear Illu?”

Ilumi exhaled slowly, his voice devoid of emotion but carrying a quiet promise of devastation.

“We find them.”

The hunt wasn’t over.

It had only just begun. --- The years passed like fleeting shadows, yet the hunt never ceased.

The village had changed—new buildings, unfamiliar faces, and whispers of stories that no longer held relevance to him. What was once a place of warmth, of memories tied to her, had now become a cold, lifeless backdrop in his relentless search.

She was nowhere to be found.

No traces. No rumors. No lingering scent.

As if she had been erased from existence.

Ilumi stood at the shrine, his gaze impassive, yet the weight of the silence pressed heavier than ever. This was where she belonged. This was where he should have found her. And yet—

She was gone.

The air smelled of incense, the offerings placed by worshippers unfamiliar to him. Even her presence, the memory of her standing before the shrine dressed in that delicate white and red attire, had begun to blur.

He hated it.

He hated that he couldn’t find her.

That she had slipped through his fingers.

That time had stolen her from him in a way no enemy ever could.

Had she died? No, if she had, there would have been proof. Had she escaped? Possible, but even that possibility did little to ease the strange ache that sat heavy in his chest.

Hisoka, who had long grown bored of this game, finally voiced what Ilumi refused to acknowledge.

“Face it, Illu~ she’s gone. Vanished. Disappeared into thin air~” His grin widened, eyes twinkling with delight at the assassin’s unwavering fixation. “Even you can’t find someone who doesn’t want to be found.”

Ilumi’s expression remained unreadable. No. That wasn’t true.

No one escaped him.

Not permanently.

Hisoka chuckled. “Still searching after all these years~? My, my, isn’t that obsessive?”

Ilumi turned his back to the shrine. Hisoka was right about one thing. It had been years. Yet, it made no difference.

Time would not change his resolve.

He would find her.

No matter how long it took.

No matter where she was.

She was his. And she would return to him.

Eventually. --- The lanterns flickered in the dimly lit streets, painting golden reflections on the cobbled path. The night air carried the faint scent of incense and cherry blossoms, mingling with the sound of distant laughter and the soft notes of a shamisen. The Entertainment District was alive, vibrant, filled with fleeting pleasures. But within one of its grand establishments, a lone figure sat near an open window, untouched by the liveliness beyond.

Dressed in an exquisite oiran kimono, embroidered with intricate silver and deep violet threads, she moved a Gungi piece across the board, her fingers as delicate as the silk she once wove. The customers across from her watched in quiet admiration, more entranced by her presence than the game itself. A soft, polite smile adorned her lips, but it never reached her eyes.

She won. Again. And again.

Yet, victory never brought her satisfaction.

She then reached for the teacup beside her, but instead of drinking, she traced the rim absentmindedly, her gaze shifting toward the bustling streets below. A wistful sigh escaped her as she watched the world continue beyond the confines of her cage.

Her fingers moved on their own, brushing against the lacquered wood of the window sill, a soft hum escaping her lips—an old melody, one she had sung absentmindedly back when she had something to call home. The gentle tune drifted through the air, weaving between the sounds of the night, unnoticed by most, yet holding a weight only she could feel.

She was counting the days.

How many had passed since she last stepped foot outside on her own terms? Since she had last seen the shrine, the café, the faces of those she loved?

A warm breeze carried a few petals through the window, their delicate forms landing beside the Gungi board. Her smile faltered as she reached out, fingers brushing against the pale pink bloom. The petals felt real. Unlike everything else around her.

She closed her eyes for a moment, gripping the flower between her fingers. Then, as if nothing had happened, she turned back to her customers, resuming the game.

But even as she played, her heart remained elsewhere—lost in time, longing for something just beyond her reach.

[miyukis-writings]

This hits home. For someone like me who had stopped writing since 2020, I felt this.

I've often thought to myself that I'm not good enough on writing—except for 'fanfic' and I come back regardless because, I think to myself that it was not the fame that I was looking for in my entire life of writing. It was the 'thrill' of it. I wanted to know how long can my imagination could go on.

Even most of my friends acknowledge me as someone with a good imagination. They often asked me various of question. "How do you know how to capture the feelings very well?"

I'm proud of myself. And that was enough for me to being able to bring myself back into writing fanfiction.

(This is coming from a Wattpad's author who had over 1k followers. I thanked you for this amazing post ❤️)

Side Note To Fan Fic Authors

Here’s the thing.

I read a lot of scripts.  A lot.  From professionals to aspiring writers to complete newbies.  Features and pilots.  Specs and treatments.

And 8 times out of 10 the fan fic that I’ve read over the last, oh, 15 years is leagues better than this stuff.  It’s more inspired.  It’s more compelling.  It’s genre bending and creative and heartfelt.  It’s well-paced and intense and funny and sexy and meaningful.  It’s smart and thoughtful and good.  It’s novel-quality.  Better than, sometimes.

Rare is the script I don’t want to put down, but how often have we stayed up until 3am to get to the last chapter of a 100k fic? And it’s not even a fan fic author’s day job.  This is what they do on the side.  In their spare time.  For free.

So my point is, fan fic authors, you’re good.  You’re good writers and great storytellers.  I know it doesn’t always feel like it, especially if you’re one of the authors who’s not a BNF and doesn’t get the notes/hits that a few do.  And  because some people still view fic as “not real writing.” You guys know the shit that gets made into movies.  You’re better than that.  So be better than that.  If writing is what you think want to do, then just know you’re already doing it.   You’ve already started.

And you’re more talented than you might think.

[miyukis-writings]

— Bound by Silk and Shadows. [III]

pairing. ilumi zoldyck x (insert oc)

summary. In a quiet village, she runs a humble café, serving customers with a serene smile, unaware that she has captured the interest of one of the deadliest assassins alive. Ilumi Zoldyck, cold and emotionless, finds himself drawn to her—an anomaly in his carefully calculated world. She does not flinch under his piercing gaze, does not cower in fear like others do. And that intrigues him. What starts as silent observation soon spirals into obsession. He watches from the shadows, memorizing her every move, ensuring no one else dares to lay claim to what is his. Even Hisoka, ever the provocateur, finds amusement in Ilumi’s growing fixation. But Ilumi is not a man of patience. If she won’t come to him willingly… he may just have to take her. After all, a rare treasure should be kept safe—locked away, where no one else can touch.

tags. yandere ; kidnapping, manipulation ; friends to lovers ; eventual smut (will be tagged accordingly).

a.n. i imagine that she had a very long, silken hair cascaded down her back like flowing silver under the moonlight, carrying subtle hues of midnight blue at the tips. her skin, pale and luminous. her eyes, deep and enigmatic, mirrored the night sky—silver with flecks of stardust. her nose was delicate and well-defined, complementing the soft curve of her high cheekbones. her lips, naturally flushed with a faint rose hue. xoxo miyuki

status. on-going // prologue, chapter I, chapter II, chapter IV, chapter V, chapter VI

The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth from the earlier rain. Ilumi walked in silence, Hisoka trailing beside him with a lazy grin stretching across his face. The dim lanterns along the village streets flickered, casting long shadows that twisted with every breeze.

“Such a quiet little place,” Hisoka mused, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I can see why you like it. Peaceful, isn’t it? Almost makes me want to settle down.”

Ilumi cast him a sidelong glance. “You wouldn’t last a week.”

Hisoka chuckled, unbothered. “True. I get bored far too easily. But you… you don’t, do you?”

Ilumi didn’t answer. Hisoka was perceptive in ways that were inconvenient.

Ilumi walked in silence, his thoughts swirling like ink in water, murky and unreadable even to himself. The quiet village streets stretched before him, bathed in the dim glow of lanterns. Hisoka strolled beside him, still grinning to himself, as if recalling something particularly amusing.

"You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?" Hisoka mused, his tone playfully knowing.

Ilumi’s gaze remained forward. "She is irrelevant."

Hisoka chuckled, a deep, rolling sound. "Mmm, but she is interesting, don’t you think? Not a single crack in that facade. No fear. No intrigue. Just… neutrality."

Ilumi said nothing. That was precisely what unsettled him. His presence should have meant something to her. Fear, curiosity, even mild wariness—any of those would have been logical responses. Yet, she had given him nothing. Not even a second glance as they left.

He had no use for things he didn’t understand. And yet, he was drawn back to the thought of her, much like a moth to a flickering flame.

They walked in silence for a while before Ilumi’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He retrieved it, glancing at the caller ID before answering. The familiar voice of one of his family’s informants greeted him.

Without breaking stride, he retrieved it, bringing it to his ear.

"The mission is set," the voice on the other end was curt, professional—one of the handlers assigned by his father. "You are to depart at once. It is expected to take three months. Failure is not an option."

Ilumi barely reacted. Missions were nothing new. He did what was required, as he always had.

Yet, something in his chest tightened. Three months. Would she still be there when he returned? Would anything have changed? Ilumi listened without showing any reaction, but the sudden shift of his aura didn’t go past Hisoka which causes him to smirked slightly. “Details.”

“The target is a high-profile businessman who has been interfering with the family’s operations. Security will be tight, but nothing beyond your capabilities. Your father wanted you to be extra cautious while going for the target. So far as we know, he's a very strong Nen user.” Nen is a technique that allows a person to use and manipulate their life energy, or aura, to gain superhuman abilities. It is divided into several core principles and categories: Ten (纏) – Keeping aura around the body for defense and longevity.

Zetsu (絶) – Shutting off aura flow to hide presence but making one vulnerable.

Ren (練) – Releasing a large amount of aura to increase strength and power.

Hatsu (発) – The unique expression of one's Nen ability, tailored to their personality and Nen category.

Each Nen user belongs to one of six categories, determined by their innate aura type: Enhancement – Strengthens or improves the user’s body or objects.

Emission – Projects aura away from the body.

Manipulation – Controls objects or living beings.

Transmutation – Alters the properties of aura.

Conjuration – Creates objects out of aura.

Specialization – Unique abilities that don’t fit into other categories.

Ilumi absorbed the information in silence before ending the call without a farewell. He slipped the phone back into his pocket, his expression unreadable.

Hisoka tilted his head, watching Ilumi’s expression—or lack thereof. "Oh? You sound almost reluctant. That’s new."

"You talk too much," Ilumi said flatly, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Hisoka’s smirk widened. "I’ll take that as a yes." Three Months Later The battlefield was a desolate stretch of land, a ruined outpost at the edge of a crumbling city. The building was high-up, the light coming from Yorknew City could still be seen from there. Faint traces of past conflicts lingered—scorched walls, shattered cobblestones, and the eerie silence that always followed bloodshed. The moon hung high, casting long, jagged shadows across the uneven terrain. Getting past through all the guards that’s protecting the target was an easy task for Ilumi himself. It didn’t take long for him to get past all of them with just his needle. A single strike straight to their skulls was all he needed. He doesn’t understand himself why he wanted to get his job done as soon as possible but for now, he shook off the thought away from his head and focused on killing the target as swiftly as possible.

Ilumi moved with measured steps, his expression as unreadable as ever. His target was near.

A figure suddenly emerged from the darkness—a seasoned fighter, cloaked in an aura of potent Nen. His golden eyes glowed with sharp intensity, his stance revealing years of battle-honed experience. This was not an easy kill.

"So, you’re the one they sent after me. Foolish."

With a surge of power, the man's Nen flared—coiling around him in thick, vibrant waves. He was an Enhancer, a warrior who thrived in direct combat. His fists clenched, the ground beneath him cracking as he propelled forward at blinding speed, aiming to crush Ilumi in a single strike.

Ilumi’s eyes remained devoid of emotion as he shifted his stance. In a mere instant, his form blurred—his speed surpassing human perception. His opponent’s punch whistled through empty space as Ilumi reappeared behind him, fingers poised with deadly precision.

With a flick of his wrist, several needles embedded into the enforcer’s back. The man jerked, his movements seizing up as his muscles stiffened involuntarily. But he fought through the paralysis, his sheer willpower allowing him to resist.

"Impressive," Ilumi murmured, his voice devoid of praise yet acknowledging the resistance.

The enforcer twisted, lashing out with a devastating punch infused with explosive Nen. Ilumi barely shifted, his body weaving through the attack with unnatural ease. With another flick of his hand, a final needle found its mark—straight into the base of the man’s skull.

The enforcer’s body froze completely, his energy abruptly dissipating. His eyes widened in horror as he realized—his body was no longer his to control.

Ilumi stepped forward, tilting his head slightly. "This is the difference between us."

With a mere thought, the enforcer collapsed, lifeless before he even hit the ground. The mission was complete. A slow clap echoed through the night, breaking the silence.

"Beautifully done," a familiar voice drawled.

Ilumi react to the voice behind him. He had sensed Hisoka’s presence before he had even spoken. The magician’s arrival was never subtle—not in presence, not in personality. Hisoka leaned lazily against a broken pillar, his ever-present smirk in place.

"You do have a flair for efficiency," Hisoka continued, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Though I must say, it lacks… excitement."Ilumi didn’t paid him any mind. He then pulled out his phone from his pocket and sent a single message to confirm the completion of the job. His part was done. The moment he put his phone back in the pocket of his pants, his mind wandered once again. This never happened to him before but somehow, ever since she came in his life, everything about him had change. He couldn’t help himself but to indulge himself into his own little thoughts just for this one time.

As he watched the frantic movement below, his thoughts started to get busy—wandering elsewhere.

To a quiet village.

To a dimly lit café.

To a girl who had looked at him as though he was just another customer. It was… bothersome. The thought had followed him through the entirety of his mission, lingering in the back of his mind like an unfinished thread. Her presence should have been insignificant—he should have discarded his curiosity the moment he left the village. And yet, it gnawed at him.

“Well, well~ You look lost in thought.” Hisoka landed gracefully beside him, his ever-present smirk stretching wide. “You’re usually so focused after a mission. Could it be that something is distracting you?”

Ilumi remained silent, but Hisoka’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “How rare. You, of all people, letting something linger in your mind. I wonder what could possibly be so intriguing.” Hisoka tilted his head, his tone lilting with curiosity. “Ah… or perhaps who?”

Ilumi finally turned to face him, his expression unreadable. “You followed me here?”

Hisoka chuckled. “Oh, don’t be so cold. I was simply nearby and thought I’d drop by~” He took a dramatic breath, as if savoring the lingering air of death. “Besides, watching you work is always such a delight.”

Ilumi ignored the comment. “What do you want?”

Hisoka grinned. “Must I have a reason? I enjoy watching interesting things unfold.” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I have a feeling you’re about to become very interesting.” Ilumi didn’t respond. Hisoka’s amusement was a nuisance, but not unexpected. The magician thrived on chaos and tension—on pushing people toward their limits just to see how they would react.

The thought of simply leaving crossed Ilumi’s mind, but Hisoka wasn’t finished. “You know,” he mused, stretching his arms, “I quite enjoyed our little café visit. Such a fascinating girl, don’t you think?” Ilumi’s fingers twitched slightly. It was the smallest reaction, nearly imperceptible—but Hisoka caught it. “Oh my~” Hisoka’s grin widened. “So that’s what’s on your mind.”

Ilumi turned away, dismissing him. “You’re imagining things.”

Hisoka only laughed, the sound light but filled with mischief. “Perhaps~ But you wouldn’t be standing here, lingering, if that were true.” He stepped closer, his voice taking on a more knowing edge. “You want to see her again.”

Ilumi didn’t answer. Because, for once, Hisoka wasn’t entirely wrong.

And that was precisely what bothered him the most. Ilumi ignored him, retrieving his needles with methodical precision. As he turned to leave, Hisoka’s gaze flickered with mischief.

"Oh, by the way," Hisoka drawled, stretching lazily. "The village you’re so interested in is preparing for a festival. Quite a grand one, it seems. Lanterns, performances, the whole charming affair."

Ilumi barely reacted, his expression unchanged. "I see." He was silent for a long moment. He was not one for festivals, nor for idle distractions. And yet… the notion of seeing her again, in an entirely different setting, was not entirely unwelcome.

Hisoka tilted his head, watching him with unbridled curiosity. “Thinking of attending?”

Ilumi’s gaze flickered toward him, impassive. “You seem unusually invested.”

Hisoka’s smirk widened. “Oh, I just enjoy seeing how things unfold. And if you happen to be intrigued, who am I to interfere?~”

Ilumi didn’t dignify him with a response. He turned away, stepping off the rooftop into the shadows, leaving Hisoka chuckling to himself behind him. The Day Before The Festival The village hadn’t changed. It was still the same quiet place with winding cobblestone paths, paper lanterns swaying with the evening breeze, and a sky stretched wide and starless.

But Ilumi’s eyes were drawn only to one thing—the café.

Warm light seeped through its windows, casting a familiar glow onto the streets. And inside, she was still there.

She hadn’t left.

He exhaled slowly, though he wasn’t sure why. Relief was not an emotion he should be experiencing. He told himself it was merely curiosity that had brought him back here so soon after completing his mission.

Yes. That was all it was.

He then took a close look around the village once again. It didn’t change that much, except for the decorative lantern being hung up, decorating the streets in a warm hue glow. Then his eyes caught a banner that was being hung across the street, painted with delicate brushstrokes. Festival of Lanterns (提灯祭り[chōchin matsuri]).

His sharp eyes scanned the details. A traditional dance. A shrine ceremony. The event will begun tomorrow evening. The expression on his face didn’t change but, deep in his mind, he sure looking forward to it.

Hisoka, who had been tailing him from behind, hummed in amusement. "How fortunate~ Looks like our dear little hostess has a role to play tonight."

Ilumi’s brows furrowed slightly. Hisoka’s words rang true. His eyes then turned towards the cafe before realizing. She’s not there. Where could she be? Ilumi wonders, why is the cafe still open despite not her not being there? The moment he reached for the door handle, he saw an unfamiliar face was serving the customers. An old woman in her 70’s was the one who’s serving the customer and yet, the soft smile painted on the old lady somehow reminded him of something—or rather, someone. The old lady’s smile looks similar to her soft smile. That’s probably her grandma… was the only thing played in his mind. He turned away, getting ready to leave the cafe before Hisoka’s words struck, “So, you really do want to see her~?” Ilumi paid him no mind and vanished into thin air. Hisoka’s smirked slightly. “How amusing~”

--- The village had begun to stir with the hum of festival preparations, the scent of freshly harvested flowers and burning incense weaving through the air. Lanterns of vibrant colors hung from every storefront and home, their glow promising warmth against the coming night. The townspeople bustled about, decorating, arranging, and chattering excitedly about the Festival of Lanterns.

Among them, she stood quietly, her delicate hands skillfully tying strings of paper lanterns under the eaves of her family’s shrine. The smile on her lips never wavered, the curve of her mouth familiar to all who knew her. A gentle, practiced expression—one that did not falter, even as old memories stirred.

The rhythmic rustling of the wind through the trees reminded her of the night everything had fallen apart. The night her father was taken from her.

She had been too young to understand the depth of the trouble he was in. Her father, despite his warm smiles and playful gestures, had been drowning in debt. Debt so vast and inescapable that it loomed over their family like a curse. He had hidden it well, playing the part of a devoted husband and doting father, but reality struck after that one night where strange men came knocking at their door.

Their voices had been cold, their presence suffocating.

She remembered clinging to the hem of her mother’s kimono, fear was written across her face, watching as her father was dragged away. He had turned back once, offering a reassuring smile—one that did not reach his weary eyes. That was the last time she saw him alive.

Days later, his body was found in an alley, discarded like a broken tool. The news spread like wildfire, whispers following her wherever she went. Pitying eyes, hushed voices, condolences that felt empty. The debt did not disappear with his death—it clung to them, suffocating her mother in its grip.

Her mother, once a woman of grace and gentle hands, began to crumble under the weight of grief. But it wasn’t just the loss of her husband. It was the way her daughter looked at her—the way she smiled. The resemblance was undeniable, a painful reminder of the man who had left her in ruin.

At first, it was the lingering glances, the barely concealed resentment in her mother’s gaze. Then came the nights when her mother would mutter to herself, clutching her head as if trying to rid herself of something unseen. And then, one day, she was simply gone.

They found her body by the riverbank, her pale face reflecting the sky as if she had become one with it. The sight of her mother’s dead body was one disturbing for someone as little as her back then. Then a sudden realization struck her.

She had been left alone.

Her grandparents had taken her in, raising her with warmth that she could no longer fully grasp. The shrine became her home, the traditions passed down through generations now resting on her shoulders. The village adored her, admired her dedication to keeping the customs alive.

But no one saw beyond the smile she wore.

No one saw the fear that sat at the pit of her stomach, the sadness that curled itself around her heart, the hurt that never quite faded. Her falling facade that she shows when she’s all alone in her room.

No one ever questioned the unwavering brightness in her expression, the way she laughed so easily, the way she never faltered.

Because to them, she was the girl who danced beautifully beneath the lantern lights, who carried the legacy of her ancestors with grace. To them, she was unbreakable.

And so she continued to smile.

As the village around her prepared for the grand festival, she tied another lantern in place, stepping back to admire the soft glow it cast. She exhaled slowly, watching as the golden light flickered against the night sky.

No one needed to know. No one ever would.

Tomorrow evening, she would dance beneath the lanterns once more, her movements flawless, her expression serene.

And no one would ever see past the mask she had perfected.

The Festival Day

The night deepened, stars appearing one by one against the velvety darkness. The shrine’s courtyard had transformed into a sea of warm lights, paper lanterns swaying in the evening breeze. The villagers’ laughter and chatter rang through the air, blending with the sound of rustling fabric as shrine maidens moved gracefully, preparing for the rituals to come.

She stood at the heart of it all, her fingers brushing against the delicate embroidery of her ceremonial robes. Her hair was put up, the hair pin decorating her long hair, she almost looks like the Goddess of The Moon herself. The weight of tradition pressed down on her shoulders, but she carried it with quiet grace. Her movements were methodical as she assisted the others, yet her mind drifted.

She thought of the festival nights when she was younger, when her father would lift her onto his shoulders so she could see the lights from above the crowd. She thought of her mother, humming an old lullaby as she brushed her hair, before the sorrow had stolen her away.

Her throat tightened, but she did not allow the emotion to surface.

A soft voice pulled her from her thoughts. "My dear, are you ready? The opening ceremony is about to begin."

She turned, her ever-present soft smile in place. "Of course. I'll be there soon."

As the drums of the festival began to echo through the village, she took a deep breath, steadying herself.

Tonight, she would dance not just for tradition, but for the past she carried within her. And no matter how heavy it was, she would never let it show. --- As the night deepened, the festival was indeed filled with colors and sounds. Rows of glowing lanterns lined the village streets, their soft golden light reflecting in the eyes of those who gathered. Stalls offered sweets and trinkets, while laughter and excited chatter filled the air. The festival had reached its peak, the night sky aglow with thousands of lanterns, their golden hues painting the streets in an ethereal glow. Music filled the air, gentle yet rhythmic, the kind that stirred something deep within the soul. People gathered in clusters, their faces alight with joy as they watched the performance begin. Ilumi stood at the edge of the crowd, his dark eyes unreadable as they followed the lone figure who stepped onto the open stage before the shrine. The girl moved with elegance, her flowing garments trailing like whispers of silk as she raised her arms, welcoming the music’s embrace.

Ilumi’s attention was directed on her.

On the raised platform in the center of the square, where she stood.

Dressed in elegant shrine maiden attire, her figure was bathed in the warm glow of the lanterns. Silk sleeves flowed with her every movement as she began to dance, her steps light yet deliberate, as if weaving through unseen threads of time itself.

The crowd hushed, mesmerized by the performance. And for the first time in a long while, Ilumi found himself watching something he could not predict. Beautiful was one thing but her—she was too enchanting for him no—for the world to watch. The realization left a bitter taste in Ilumi’s mouth. She existed in a space that did not include him.

Yet. His gaze remained locked onto her, watching as she began to dance. Every step was precise, each movement fluid, as if she was weightless against the world. The lanterns above illuminated her, casting a golden shimmer upon her skin, making her appear almost otherworldly. It was hypnotizing—graceful yet calculated, a performance that had been honed for years.

She moved like water, graceful yet untouchable, her expression serene and unwavering. There was no doubt—this was her world, a place where she belonged, a place where she was untouchable. Ilumi wasn’t easily swayed by aesthetics. Yet, as he observed her, something strange curled within him. He recognized discipline in her dance, the meticulous control in every motion. She was practiced, perfected, a display of refinement that demanded attention. But beneath that flawless execution, he saw something else—something more than just a dancer honoring tradition. A mask. Hisoka, who had been watching alongside him, chuckled under his breath. "Beautiful, isn't she? But I wonder…" he drawled, tilting his head slightly. "How long can one wear such a mask before it begins to crack?" Ilumi said nothing, his gaze never leaving her. As the dance neared its climax, she twirled with such precision that the sleeves of her kimono billowed like wings, her face tilted ever so slightly upward, her lips curved in that serene, unwavering smile. It was a smile Ilumi did not trust. He wonders to himself, why her smile back then was different than her smile when she’s on stage? He had seen many expressions in his lifetime—fear, rage, desperation. But this? This kind of smile, so perfected, so unwavering—it was unnatural. And unnatural things always hid something beneath the surface. --- As the festival continued, the winding streets were illuminated by the lanterns, their golden light casting shifting shadows along the cobblestone paths. She stepped away from the crowd, with still dressed in the elegant shrine maiden attire but with one hairpin stuck on her long hair, her hair bang dance along with the cold breeze of the night, drowning herself toward the quieter part of the festival, where the shrine’s steps led into the tranquil night. She stood quietly, looking at the moon hung high, flashback started playing in her mind, clinging into her mind like a torn roses. The pain suddenly came from remembering her past causes her to clutch her hands tightly on her chest. Her smile that she had worn for too long slowly faded from her face. She then pluck the last hairpin on her hair, which causes her hair to fall straight away as she studied the ornament that was decorating the hairpin. It was originally her mothers’. But it had been passed down to her. Mother, am I doing a good job right here…? A single tear escaped from her eyes as she hug the hairpin closed to her chest before finally letting herself broke down from the exhaustion of putting a mask in front of everyone she meet. A sudden creak coming from behind her which causes her to turn around, tear staining her cheeks as she tried her best to look through the darkness behind her. A low chuckle could be heard from the darkness before it began to speak. ”My, the boss did not lie about his daughter growing into a very fine lady~ This way, it won't take her long to finished paying her father’s debt with a pretty face like her~” The person suddenly step out of the darkness. There’s three of them and she knows very well who the three gentleman standing before her was. On instinct, she tried to scream for help before one of the guy swiftly move to her behind and cupped her mouth. “Woah, can’t let you scream…! You should respect those people who’s trying to have fun during the festival…! So, I want you to be a good girl and stay st—” Before he can finished his sentence, she elbowed him hard on his stomach, causing him to lost his grip from her. With that, she then ran as fast as she could to escape from the other two man behind her but to her no avail, the second guy suddenly pulled her long hair causing her fall back on her knees, screeching in pain. He then cup her mouth and nose with a piece of fabric which not for long, her body started feeling numb before her vision finally succumbing to the darkness. Anyone, please… Save me…

[miyukis-writings]

— Bound by Silk and Shadows. [II]

pairing. ilumi zoldyck x (insert oc)

summary. In a quiet village, she runs a humble café, serving customers with a serene smile, unaware that she has captured the interest of one of the deadliest assassins alive. Ilumi Zoldyck, cold and emotionless, finds himself drawn to her—an anomaly in his carefully calculated world. She does not flinch under his piercing gaze, does not cower in fear like others do. And that intrigues him. What starts as silent observation soon spirals into obsession. He watches from the shadows, memorizing her every move, ensuring no one else dares to lay claim to what is his. Even Hisoka, ever the provocateur, finds amusement in Ilumi’s growing fixation. But Ilumi is not a man of patience. If she won’t come to him willingly… he may just have to take her. After all, a rare treasure should be kept safe—locked away, where no one else can touch.

tags. yandere ; kidnapping, manipulation ; friends to lovers ; eventual smut (will be tagged accordingly).

a.n. i've posted this on Wattpad as well. Been taking a day-off from writing fanfic since 3 years ago. Hope everyone enjoys this! <3 all likes, comments and reblog are greatly appreciated. xoxo miyuki

status. on-going // prologue, chapter I, chapter III, chapter IV, chapter V, chapter VI

The night was crisp, the scent of damp earth lingering in the air after an earlier drizzle. The village streets, lit only by sparse lanterns, cast flickering shadows that danced along the cobblestone path. The occasional rustling of leaves and distant chirps of nocturnal creatures were the only sounds that accompanied them. It was the kind of quiet that felt suffocating to most—but Ilumi found comfort in it. He wonders as well but, he just put the thought aside for now. Ilumi was not accustomed to uncertainty. Every action he took, every step he made, was calculated. And yet, when it came to the girl from the café, he found himself unable to predict what should have been the most obvious outcome—her reaction to him.

Would his presence in front of her change anything at all?

He did not like lingering questions. He sought answers. And so, tonight, he decided to step out from the shadows and confront his curiosity head-on.

Of course, he was not alone.

Hisoka, ever the opportunist, had decided to accompany him, much to Ilumi’s dismay.

“Oh, this is quite unlike you, Ilumi~,” Hisoka mused, strolling beside him with the kind of exaggerated leisure that made him seem out of place in the quiet village. “Approaching a woman directly? How bold.”

Ilumi did not react. Hisoka’s presence was an irritation, but not an obstacle. If anything, it would serve as an additional test.

By the time they arrived at the café, the warm glow of the lanterns outside flickered against the darkened streets. Through the window, the girl could be seen tidying up the empty tables, preparing to close for the night. The only remaining customers had already left, leaving the place nearly silent.

Ilumi stepped inside first, Hisoka following with a lazy gait. The door creaked slightly as it shut behind them, the sound breaking the quiet atmosphere. She looked up at the sound, her gaze meeting theirs directly.

Nothing.

No hesitation. No wariness. No immediate sense of fear.

Just quiet acknowledgment.

"Welcome," she said, a soft smile was plastered on her face, her voice light, unbothered. "You're just in time. I was about to close, but I can make an exception. What would you like?"

Hisoka chuckled, moving toward the counter with an amused gleam in his eyes. “Oh my, does that mean we’re intruding? How terribly rude of us.”

Ilumi ignored him. “We won’t be long.” Ilumi studied her. He had expected at least a flicker of unease, a moment of recognition that something about him was… different. But there was none. If anything, she regarded him with the same gentle attentiveness she had given to all her customers before him.

She regarded him for a moment before nodding, her soft smile didn’t faltered even for a second. “Take a seat. I’ll bring the both of you something warm.” Despite her knowing that most of the tea had already been kept in the small cabinet in the cafe, but she didn’t mind fetching them for the two gentlemen in the room. She then took a small chair for her to reach the cabinet where she put the tea a few minutes ago.

Hisoka leaned onto the counter, propping his chin against his palm as she moved behind it. “How sweet~ You must be used to strange men showing up at odd hours, hmm?”

She didn’t even glance at him. “Not particularly.” She answered, her soft voice sounds like music in Ilumi’s ear but he shook the thoughts away, taking a close look around the cafe. Analyzing the arrangement of the chairs, tables and small ornaments being put in the room. The soft light coming from the lantern itself glows quite nicely, putting out a comfortable vibe in the room despite their presence trying so hard to turn the room into an uncomfortable vibe and yet, the room refuses to answered to their intoxicating presence.

Hisoka’s smirk widened. “Yet you don’t seem the least bit nervous. How refreshing.”

She didn't paid him any mind and poured them tea, placing the cups in front of them with steady hands. Ilumi watched her closely, taking in every detail—the way she carried herself, the absence of hesitation, the way her eyes didn’t reflect even a sliver of fear. The soft smile on her face didn’t seem to faltered even just for a second.

The café had become eerily silent, save for the occasional clink of porcelain as the tea was set down. Outside, the wind whispered against the windows, carrying with it the distant sound of rustling branches. The lanterns’ glow painted warm hues on the wooden floors, creating an intimate yet unsettling ambiance.

“Do you live alone?” Hisoka continued, stirring his tea lazily. “Or does someone wait for you at home?”

Ilumi shot him a glance, a small warning perhaps—for him not to do anything towards her but the girl merely answered with the same soft tone, “I live with my grandparents.”

“Ah, a family girl.” Hisoka sighed dramatically. “How disappointing.”

She remained indifferent to his antics, simply wiping down the counter as they drank. Hisoka, however, wasn’t done playing. “Tell me, do you ever get scared?”

She finally looked at him, confusion was written across her face. She then tilted her head slightly. “Of what?” Ilumi could not help himself but to be amused over her obliviousness.

Hisoka grinned. “Of people like us.”

Silence filled the air between them. Then, she blinked once, her soft smile was still plastered on her lips before replying, “Should I be?”

Hisoka let out a delighted laugh. “Oh, I like you.”

She chuckled softly, shaking her head lightly before replying. “That makes one of us.”

Hisoka gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Oh, what a cruel rejection! And here I thought we were forming such a lovely bond.”

She chuckled, simply shrugged. “You assumed wrong.” Ilumi simply sat, lifting the cup to his lips, tasting the tea but focusing on her. Waiting.

Would she fidget under his gaze? Would she avoid looking at him? Would she finally sense something was off about the man before her? But no. She merely continued cleaning, humming softly under her breath, unshaken by his scrutiny.

It was… strange.

For the first time in his life, Ilumi was the one feeling observed—except she wasn’t watching him with suspicion or fear. She was simply existing in the same space as him, treating him as if he was just another customer passing through.

Minutes passed in silence. She finished her cleaning, moving toward the front door to flip the sign to ‘Closed.’ When she turned back, she met his gaze again, tilting her head slightly in curiosity. "You don’t talk much, do you?" she mused.

He set his cup down, his fingers still resting lightly against the porcelain. "No."

She chuckled at his bluntness but said nothing more, allowing the silence to settle comfortably between them. Hisoka watches with a smirk on his face, amused by the scene collapsing between the two of them.

Ilumi finished his tea in silence, remembering the small exchange between her and Hisoka a few minutes ago with passive interest. There was something about the way she handled Hisoka—effortlessly deflecting his teasing without a hint of intimidation—that made her all the more unusual. Most people recoiled under Hisoka’s presence, yet she remained unchanged. The smile on her face never seem to faltered even a single bit, he found it quite amusing. And he never found anyone amusing before. Until he met her.

The tea had cooled slightly by the time Ilumi finished his cup. He set it down with a deliberate motion and pulled out the appropriate payment.

Ilumi remained for a moment longer, studying her, searching for any sign that she was pretending—forcing her ease around him. But there was nothing artificial about her. She was simply as she had always been.

Unchanged.

Indifferent.

As if his presence truly made no difference at all.

For reasons he could not explain, the thought unsettled him more than he had expected.

Rising to his feet, he placed the payment on the counter. As he placed the money on the counter, he studied her reaction—or rather, the lack of fear presenting on her face. Not even the slightest flicker of curiosity crossed her face. She then took a glanced at it and smiled for the last time that night. "Thank you. Please come again anytime."

Hisoka hummed in amusement, watching her as they prepared to leave. “We should visit again, Ilumi. She’s quite fun.”

Ilumi didn’t respond. Instead, he cast one last glance at the girl before stepping out into the night.

The cool air greeted them once more, the village feeling emptier than before. The faint sound of laughter and conversation from distant homes carried through the air, but Ilumi hardly paid attention. His thoughts were elsewhere.

His presence had made no difference to her demeanor. Not in fear, not in intrigue. Nothing.

And yet, despite that… he knew he would be back. Because for the first time in his life, he was curious.

And curiosity was dangerous.

He wanted to see how long it would take before something—anything—in her expression changed because of him.

Even if he had to force it.

[miyukis-writings]

— Bound by Silk and Shadows. [I]

pairing. ilumi zoldyck x (insert oc)

summary. In a quiet village, she runs a humble café, serving customers with a serene smile, unaware that she has captured the interest of one of the deadliest assassins alive. Ilumi Zoldyck, cold and emotionless, finds himself drawn to her—an anomaly in his carefully calculated world. She does not flinch under his piercing gaze, does not cower in fear like others do. And that intrigues him. What starts as silent observation soon spirals into obsession. He watches from the shadows, memorizing her every move, ensuring no one else dares to lay claim to what is his. Even Hisoka, ever the provocateur, finds amusement in Ilumi’s growing fixation. But Ilumi is not a man of patience. If she won’t come to him willingly… he may just have to take her. After all, a rare treasure should be kept safe—locked away, where no one else can touch.

tags. yandere ; kidnapping, manipulation ; friends to lovers ; eventual smut (will be tagged accordingly).

a.n. i've posted this on Wattpad as well. Been taking a day-off from writing fanfic since 3 years ago. Hope everyone enjoys this! <3 all likes, comments and reblog are greatly appreciated. xoxo miyuki

status. on-going // prologue, chapter II, chapter III, chapter IV, chapter V, chapter VI

Ilumi Zoldyck was not the type to dwell on unnecessary distractions, yet the girl from the café had taken root in his mind like an intrusive thought he could not shake. Days had turned to weeks, and still, he found himself drawn to the village, lurking in the periphery of her world like a ghost.

It was uncharacteristic of him to linger. He should have abandoned this curiosity the moment it surfaced. And yet, against his better judgment, Ilumi remained.

That night, he sat atop the rooftops of a neighboring building, watching as she went about closing the café for the night. Her movements were methodical, practiced, each action carried out with a grace that was neither hurried nor idle. She was a creature of habit, and Ilumi had learned her routine as naturally as he memorized the steps of an assassination.

She wiped down the wooden counter, stacked the chairs, and extinguished the lanterns one by one, until only the warm glow of a single candle remained. With a sigh, she turned towards the door, locking it with a gentle click before stepping outside. The night breeze lifted strands of her hair, causing them to dance against the dim light of the streetlamp.

Ilumi’s fingers tapped idly against his sleeve, his mind calculating yet aimless all at once. What was it about her that held his attention so firmly? Was it her calmness? Her complete lack of fear? Or was it the simple fact that she did not fit into the rigid logic of his world?

She was unlike anyone he had ever encountered. People either feared him or sought to manipulate him. She did neither. Their brief interactions were limited to quiet exchanges at the café’s counter. A simple nod of acknowledgment, a casual handoff of tea, an occasional polite inquiry about his preference. She never pried, never asked for more than he was willing to give.

And yet, Ilumi found himself wanting to understand her more.

A flicker of movement in his periphery snapped him from his thoughts. He did not need to look to know who it was.

“Oh my, what’s this? Ilumi, watching a girl from the shadows? How scandalous~”

The voice was unmistakable—smooth, teasing, laced with amusement that sent a ripple of irritation through Ilumi’s usually unreadable expression. Hisoka Morow had arrived, as he always did—uninvited and entirely too pleased with himself.

“Hisoka,” Ilumi acknowledged flatly. “What do you want?”

Hisoka chuckled, stepping closer, his presence exuding an aura of unsettling playfulness. He leaned casually against the rooftop’s edge, his golden eyes gleaming with mischief as he followed Ilumi’s gaze toward the girl below.

“She’s pretty,” Hisoka mused, tilting his head. “Not your usual type, I imagine. Or perhaps, I just never thought you had a type at all.”

Ilumi’s expression remained unreadable, but his fingers stilled against the fabric of his sleeve. “She’s none of your concern.”

“Oh, but now I’m curious,” Hisoka purred, a grin stretching across his face. “You’re not the type to be interested in women, much less a fragile little thing like her. Are you keeping a secret from me, Ilumi? Should I be jealous~?”

Ilumi ignored the jest, his focus remaining on the girl as she adjusted the strap of her bag and began walking down the quiet street. She never looked over her shoulder, never appeared wary of her surroundings, and yet Ilumi knew that if anyone tried to harm her, they would never see him coming before it was too late.

Hisoka sighed dramatically. “You’re no fun. But I suppose it would be boring if you lost yourself in something as mundane as romance.” He paused, then added with a smirk, “Or is it something else? Something darker?”

Ilumi finally turned his gaze toward Hisoka, his eyes sharp. “I don’t have time for your games.”

Hisoka’s smirk widened. “Liar~.”

Ilumi didn’t respond. There was no need to. Hisoka was an enigma, a wild card that played by no rules but his own. Engaging with him further would only lead to more meaningless riddles and amusement at Ilumi’s expense.

Hisoka straightened, stretching his arms lazily. “Well, I won’t interfere. For now. But if this little fascination of yours turns into something… entertaining, do let me know.” He winked before stepping backward into the shadows, his presence dissipating like mist in the night.

Ilumi exhaled slowly, his attention returning to the street below. The girl was gone, vanished into the depths of the village as she always did. And yet, he knew he would see her again.

Because despite Hisoka’s taunts, despite his own logic telling him to abandon this distraction—he didn’t want to.

And that was perhaps the most dangerous thing of all.

---

Ilumi lingered on the rooftop even after Hisoka had left, his sharp eyes trained on the darkened street below. The village was silent now, bathed in moonlight, its peacefulness a stark contrast to the chaos that usually defined his world. It was an unfamiliar feeling, this quiet pull that kept bringing him back here, but he did not resist it.

He allowed himself to analyze every detail. The way she moved, the way she interacted with others, how she smiled so effortlessly yet never seemed to put on a façade. It was genuine, something Ilumi was wholly unfamiliar with.

It was not beauty that intrigued him—beauty was a shallow, fleeting thing. No, it was something deeper. Something intangible. And that made it all the more dangerous.

As she disappeared from view, Ilumi followed silently, his steps soundless against the rooftops. He had memorized her path home. A small house nestled at the edge of the village, away from the bustling town square. It was easy for him to remain unseen, lurking in the branches of a nearby tree, his sharp gaze never leaving the windows.

Minutes passed, and then he saw the dim light flicker inside. She moved through her home with the same grace she carried in the café, oblivious to the eyes watching her from the darkness.

And then, unexpectedly, she stepped into the washroom. The window was cracked open slightly, allowing the faint glow of candlelight to spill onto the night air.

Ilumi was not the type to react to such things, yet his gaze lingered as the steam rose, curling in delicate wisps. He caught glimpses of smooth skin as she turned, her movements relaxed, unaware of the quiet predator watching her from the shadows.

Something stirred within him—faint, foreign, an impulse he did not fully understand. But instead of lingering, he closed his eyes for a brief moment and turned away.

Weakness. Attachment. These were things he could not afford.

With one last glance at the house, Ilumi vanished into the night, his mind plagued by thoughts he refused to acknowledge.

[miyukis-writings]

If you're into those mafia AU, you can check on her work! She did an amazing job at it ❤️

FIXATED ON YOU - chapter 1

CHAPTER 1: A MAN WHO HAD EVERYTHING

Adrian Carter leaned back against the plush leather seat of his Lamborghini, the city lights flickering against the tinted windows as he sped through the streets. The car’s engine purred beneath him, a familiar, almost soothing sound. The world outside was alive, but inside his car, it was just him—untouchable, unstoppable.

His phone buzzed, the screen lighting up in the dim interior. He glanced at the name flashing across the screen before answering.

“What?” His tone was casual, slightly amused.

“Adrian, where are you?” came the voice of his best friend, Daniel. “We’re waiting for you at The Grand Luxe. The VIP room’s already set.”

Adrian smirked, rolling his wrist over the steering wheel. “Tell them to keep the champagne flowing. I’ll be there in ten.”

He hung up, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat. He wasn’t particularly in the mood for a party tonight—he had attended hundreds of these events, all filled with the same people, the same drinks, the same meaningless conversations. But staying home wasn’t an option either.

He needed the noise, the energy, the beautiful distractions.

The car pulled up in front of The Grand Luxe, one of the most exclusive rooftop bars in the city. The valet rushed to open his door, bowing slightly as Adrian stepped out. Eyes turned instantly. Some whispered, some stared openly, others tried to find ways to approach.

Adrian Carter was a name that carried weight. He was young, powerful, rich beyond measure, and effortlessly handsome. Every woman wanted to be with him, and every man wanted to be him.

As he stepped inside, the music pulsed through the air, vibrating beneath his feet. The scent of expensive perfume, whiskey, and ambition filled the space. Chandeliers sparkled above the crowded dance floor, illuminating the well-dressed elite moving to the rhythm of the night.

In the VIP section, his friends were already settled, lounging on plush couches with drinks in hand.

“There he is! The king himself,” Daniel grinned, raising his glass.

“Late as usual,” Marcus added, smirking.

Adrian chuckled, sliding into the seat beside them. “Can’t rush perfection.”

The night unfolded as expected. Drinks flowed freely, laughter echoed around the table, and beautiful women draped themselves over him, each one hoping to hold his attention longer than the last. And for a while, Adrian let himself enjoy it.

A stunning brunette leaned closer, tracing a finger down his sleeve. “Adrian, darling, when are we going on that Paris trip? You promised.”

He glanced at her with amusement. “Did I?”

She pouted. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

He smirked, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “I forget a lot of things.”

The group laughed, and for a moment, Adrian did too. The party was good, the drinks were top-tier, and everything was as it should be.

And yet… something felt off.

As the night dragged on, a strange hollowness settled in his chest. He should have felt satisfied—he had everything in front of him: power, money, women, status. But suddenly, none of it seemed to matter.

He took a long sip from his glass, the whiskey burning down his throat, but it didn’t warm him. The laughter around him, the clinking of glasses, the flirtatious whispers—they all blurred together into meaningless noise.

Daniel leaned in, lowering his voice. “Your father’s been asking about you. He wants you at the office tomorrow. Another big real estate deal.”

Adrian exhaled sharply, setting his glass down. “Let him handle it. I don’t waste my time dealing with poor people.”

His friends laughed, raising their glasses.

“Here’s to being rich and untouchable!”

They toasted, and Adrian raised his own glass out of habit. But this time, when he took a sip, the taste was different. The champagne wasn’t as sweet, the whiskey wasn’t as smooth, the night wasn’t as exciting.

He leaned back against the couch, watching the city lights through the glass walls of the rooftop.

It was beautiful. Distant. Cold.

Just like him.

And for the first time, he felt it—truly felt it.

The emptiness.

It gnawed at him, unfamiliar and unwelcome, but impossible to ignore. He had everything, so why did it feel like he had nothing?

He didn’t know it yet, but his world was about to change.

But tonight, he just sat there, staring at the city, drinking his whiskey, and feeling absolutely nothing.

[miyukis-writings]

— Bound by Silk and Shadows. [prologue]

pairing. ilumi zoldyck x (insert oc)

summary. In a quiet village, she runs a humble café, serving customers with a serene smile, unaware that she has captured the interest of one of the deadliest assassins alive. Ilumi Zoldyck, cold and emotionless, finds himself drawn to her—an anomaly in his carefully calculated world. She does not flinch under his piercing gaze, does not cower in fear like others do. And that intrigues him. What starts as silent observation soon spirals into obsession. He watches from the shadows, memorizing her every move, ensuring no one else dares to lay claim to what is his. Even Hisoka, ever the provocateur, finds amusement in Ilumi’s growing fixation. But Ilumi is not a man of patience. If she won’t come to him willingly… he may just have to take her. After all, a rare treasure should be kept safe—locked away, where no one else can touch.

tags. yandere ; kidnapping, manipulation ; friends to lovers ; eventual smut (will be tagged accordingly).

a.n. i've posted this on Wattpad as well. Been taking a day-off from writing fanfic since 3 years ago. Hope everyone enjoys this! <3 all likes, comments and reblog are greatly appreciated. xoxo miyuki

status. on-going // chapter I, chapter II, chapter III, chapter IV, chapter V, chapter VI

Ilumi Zoldyck had never paid much attention to those outside his family, nor did he ever feel the need to. The world beyond the Zoldyck name was filled with insignificant people, fragile and predictable, incapable of catching his interest. That was until he met her.

It was supposed to be a routine mission—an assassination contracted by a high-ranking client. The target was a corrupt noble who had grown too bold in his dealings, making enemies with the wrong people. Ilumi had followed him to a secluded village, a quiet place where the scent of fresh earth and burning lanterns filled the evening air. The assignment was simple: eliminate the target and disappear. But something—or rather, someone—interrupted the rhythm of his work.

She was there, moving gracefully between tables in a modest little café tucked in the heart of the village. At first, he barely registered her presence, only noting how effortlessly she navigated through the dimly lit space, serving patrons with a quiet elegance. Yet something about her movements made him pause. Unlike most people he encountered, there was no trace of fear in her posture, no anxious energy, no attempt to be anything other than what she was. That alone intrigued him.

He had watched from the shadows, unseen, as she closed the café for the night. She carried herself with an unshaken calmness, her hands steady as she wiped down the wooden tables, humming softly to herself. A melody, unremarkable in itself, yet something about the sound clung to the air long after she had stopped.

She was alone. Vulnerable.

It would have been easy to slip inside, to test just how deep that unwavering composure ran. He could have reached for his needles, just to see if she would flinch, if that calm exterior would shatter under the weight of his presence. And yet, something unfamiliar stirred within him—a curiosity he had never entertained before.

Why wasn’t she afraid? Most people lived in fear, whether they realized it or not. They feared loss, pain, uncertainty. But this girl—it was as if fear did not exist in her world. Was it ignorance? Naivety? Or was there something more beneath the surface?

His mission concluded without flaw. The noble never made it out of the village; his body was found in the dark alleyways where no one dared to tread. It should have been the end of it, another job completed, another name erased from existence.

And yet, as Ilumi stood atop the rooftops, watching the village settle into slumber, his gaze once again drifted to the small café. The lanterns had long been extinguished, the doors locked for the night. But the memory of her remained—how she had moved, how she had smiled, how she had existed without fear.

Why did she linger in his thoughts? He had met countless people throughout his life, none of whom had ever occupied his mind for longer than necessary. Yet she was different. Something about her had disrupted the carefully constructed stillness of his mind.

For the first time in a long while, Ilumi found himself considering something beyond his missions, beyond his duty to the family.

He wanted to see her again.

Not as a target. Not as an obstacle. But something else entirely.

He wasn’t sure what it was yet, but he was willing to find out.

---

Days passed, yet she remained in his thoughts like an ink stain on silk—impossible to ignore. Ilumi found himself returning to the village, perched in unseen corners, observing from the periphery as she continued her quiet existence. He watched her as she prepared tea; she laughed softly at a regular customer’s jokes, as she brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear with unconscious grace.

There was a careful simplicity to the way she lived, utterly unburdened by the weight of the world he knew. It was foreign to him—this peaceful way of being, this ability to find contentment in the ordinary. And yet, he could not look away.

His mind had always been a machine—calculating, logical, driven by precision. He dissected people as easily as a blade cut through flesh. But with her, there was no strategy, no clear answer. She was an anomaly, and Ilumi had been trained never to leave an anomaly unexplored.

One evening, he allowed himself to drift closer than usual, passing by the café’s entrance just as she stepped out to take in the cool night air. The golden glow from the lanterns framed her figure, casting a soft halo around her as she sighed contentedly, oblivious to the presence that lurked just beyond the veil of shadows.

He could have walked past. He could have left her to her world, untouched and unaware.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Ilumi lingered, his silent footfalls ceasing just as she turned her head slightly, as if sensing something—someone—watching her. Her eyes, deep and searching, flickered toward the darkness where he stood, yet she made no effort to move. No fear. No unease. Only quiet curiosity, as if she was reaching for something she could not quite see.

He should have disappeared then, melted away as he always did. But for a fraction of a second, Ilumi let the distance between them remain. A moment where the assassin and the girl from the café existed in the same space, in the same night, separated only by the knowledge of what lay hidden in the shadows.

Then, with the barest tilt of his head, he vanished.

And still, he knew she would not leave his thoughts.

[miyukis-writings]

[miyukis-writings]

☼︎𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒...?☼︎

❥︎ Paring: ☢︎︎Scaramouche x ⚤︎ Reader

⚠︎ TW: violence, death of reader.

᯽ A/N: This is one of my Misunderstood Creator Sagau brainrots who I will now name–

➳ Fixer!Sagau

I wanted to do this with Dainsleif at first but idk how to grasps his character so I went with one of my personal favs. I'll do a Venti one next cuz I have an idea of how he will see the 'Creator' but I will need a scenario idea.

❦︎ Tags: @anemoarchonhoe @fatuifucker @rea-can-yeet

A burst of lightning passes through the atmosphere, a shocking sensation that's unleashed in the air causing a disruption of the peace the winds flow in.

"Kunikuzushi, listen-" 

Howling in the air, the feeling of needles going through your veins causes you to stumble back and land to the ground. The force is so powerful that you've laid on the ground to neutralize the volts that gnaw on you from the inside out. The crimson stained grass tickling your cheeks as your eyes gazed up at your fallen comrades. Aether has never seemed so defeated before.

"I don't think I've given you permission to call me that, 'Creator'." A mocking tone that emits a condescending attitude with venom seeping out of his mouth. A flash of purple light that runs freely from his arms up to the delicately looking fingertips made of whatever magic porcelain that made him sentient. You placed your arm by the ground, slowly picking up energy to pull yourself together before a sudden heavy pressure knocks you back down to the ground. His feet on your back, pressing on you like he's trying to squish a bug, and in the harbinger's eyes, you are.

How can he, a divine beauty crafted by the hands of a god, with a power that is equal to, if not— surpass his maker, exists because of you? A mere mortal without a Vision nor an otherworldly power that matches the same height as the Traveler. You looked as dull as the uncomparable fatui npcs he was put in charge of. Even the title 'Creator' was enough to make him sick. 

You make his entire existence seem like a joke. 

 

It was bad enough he had mommy issues with how Ei poorly treated him as some sort of tool and threw him away like a broken toy. His past with his maker was a hideous scar left on his man-made skin, but now having to see you in person, the very being that made him come to live, it was as if life came to taunt him even more. 

It was you.

You; who made him exist.

Who he believed to be the source of his terrible fate.

Who he was supposed to hate for his suffering.

Who was also running in his mind the whole time.

He can't help but stare at you. His brows furrowed with a fearsome rage in his eyes that glowed a brilliant indigo. Yet there was something else that hides in his pupils. A sort of infatuation that's sparking through like a broken wire that's twitching with remaining electricity.

"Why?"

A breath of curiosity erupts from his mouth. It was soft yet firm, as if his demanding an answer.

"Why did you make me?" Your head lifts up, making eye contact with the man above you. His features have become slightly softer, just barely though. His large hat blocking the blazing sun that gazed upon your unfortunate situation. The only thing that you can focus on is his still glowing eyes that pierced through your common ones.

Why did you create him? Not even you can answer that. It was an impulsion; a sort of motivation that pushed you to glide your pencil on the rough paper to form an outline of him. Your brush that does a good job in transferring colors to paint a complete picture of him. Your imagination gave him a sort of personality in a form of words that described him. 

But never did you recall printing out a story for him. 

You never wrote anyone's fate. All you did was programmed them together into one fantasy word with a small set of rules in order to truly make your creations come to life. It was only when you left them to thrive for a few months that you noticed something was wrong. 

Scaramouche or, Kunikuzushi was someone you wanted to have flaws. A person who was a representation of life. That one small thing can lead to a big difference. You never thought such a small plant could overgrow. Though he was not human and made by Ei, he could still thrive. Yet the experience made him bitter.  

You remembered drawing him as a gentle boy, so when your eyes met his own during that meteorite incident, you almost thought of him as a glitch in a system. An out of place character, maybe an npc that suddenly developed a huge role like the man Azhdaha has taken form, Kun Jun or the small rogue child, Jiu. But with how his design was distinctive, it was unmistaken he was whom you created. You just had to go back to your world to check.

"Are you going to answer me?!" His booming voice snaps you out of your trance. You didn't even realize you were reminiscing. The man above you was getting impatient as sparks of electro started flying from his arm to his entire body. He was like a ticking bomb, about to explode.

"W-wait! I- I–" wheezing out a desperate plea in hopes he wouldn't smite you right then and there. The sight was terrifying, there were no words to answer him, you cant think of anything! Unlike in the comfort of your own world with the protection of the computer screen, time doesn't stop for you and there were no speech choices for you to select with the click of your mouse. 

"Pathetic." 

Was the last thing you heard from him before a large wave of current surges into your body. Frying your entire being. That blood-curdling screams can be heard miles away from where you are. 

You shot up from your bed, sweat rolling down your face. Breathing in the sweet welcoming fragrance of chemical fruit from your bedroom diffuser. The phantom pain of the electric shocks lingers on your skin for a few seconds before kissing you goodbye. Frantically pulling off the sheets and reaching for your phone nearby–

4:37 a.m.

Man, were you gone for that long? 

The computer screen was the only light source in the entire room. The screen had Genshin still on display with the red overlay and the words, "Challenged Failed". Those words have engraved in your head that you used to be so disappointed whenever the reminder popped up. But now seeing those words made you terrified more, yet the restart button always gives you the courage to move on.

Behind the game over screen was Scaramouche, looking down on the empty ground with his feet outstretched. The very place he killed you from, his hat blocking the view of his face.

Slowly his head started to rise up, eyes now focused on the front of the screen. He was looking ahead.

Looking at you. 

Getting up from the comfortable bed, you walk towards your desk despite the growing fear telling you to go back and hide under the covers. Your hand reaches out to the computer, hesitant at first as you weren't sure if this was the best option. Scara had his eyes trained on you through the screen, his brows slightly folds his eyelids, daring you to come closer. 

With a quick push of the button, you restarted your whole computer. The once red screen disappeared for a moment. Silence filled the air as the screen turned black. The only thing that went through your ear is the sound of crickets chirping outside, imitating birds in the morning. A few seconds passed before the familiar assuring shade of blue shone on your face with the sound of the pc opening like music to your ears. 

You sighed out the breath of air you didn't know you had kept in. Although you failed, your efforts were not in vain. There is still time, still hope. That curiosity that shined in his eyes gave you a hint, the gods– that you created, blessed you with. 

"Next time. I will have an answer for you."

With that you landed face first into your bed with another heavy sigh of relief and went to sleep.

[miyukis-writings]

★ . . our arranged feelings !

━━ desperate to find the next heir to claim the inazuman throne, a young liyuean princess is chosen to suit the prince of inazuma.

☆◞ will contain the following . . . japanese/chinese royalty au, fem!reader, arranged marriage, not sfw scenes, suggestive topics, use of scaramouche's real name, arranged lovers to genuine lovers trope, angst, one sided love at times, violence, possibly more to be added...

taglist for upcoming chapters: @1arminsimp @moraxmaid ask if you'd like to be added! <3

★⌒ 90+ followers special／mini-series／update schedule

▭ TABLE OF CONTENTS⋯

CHAPTER 1 : i didn't ask for this ╭╯the prince of inazuma, kunikuzushi, and (name), the liyuean princess, have trouble adjusting to their marriage.

CHAPTER 2 : they say it's worth a try╭╯the liyuean princess plays out the role of a dutiful wife, choosing to be patient with her husband's temper. [in progress]

check later for more content!

© tarohu 2022 do not repost, modify, plagiarize or post my work across different social media platforms layout belongs to me | art credit for scaramouche photos

( ╹▽╹ ) reblogs are appreciated!

[miyukis-writings]

Art Disclaimer: Please do not take the photo and repost. Feel free to reblog though. Commissioned jfairuz for this one. It’s so, so pretty. 

The Ruthless Prince Masterlist 

 Genshin Royal AU - Scaramouche x fem!reader

Summary: When Prince Scaramouche picks you out of a random group of commoners to marry, your life is turned upside down. He’s mean, snarky, condescending and he doesn’t act like a proper husband or prince at all. However, when Prince Tartaglia from the neighbouring kingdom takes an interest in you, Prince Scaramouche finds himself even more annoyed than usual. This is the story of him and you navigating this roller coaster of a relationship.

Chapter 1 - You’re Marrying Me, That’s Final!

Chapter 2 - Social Pretense

Chapter 3 - Can I Understand Him?

Chapter 4 - Pet Wife

Chapter 5 - Enter Prince Tartaglia

Chapter 6 - Just the Beginning

Chapter 7 - To My Heart

Chapter 8 - Where is This Anger Coming From?

Chapter 9 - Secrets

Chapter 10 - Resurface

Chapter 11 - Check back later

[miyukis-writings]

— See you in my 100th life. [II]

pairing. scaramouche x reincarnated!reader

summary. your first meeting with the balladeer was one you'd remember forever. no matter how many centuries pass or life's you live. [loosely based on the webtoon see you in my 19th life]

tags. fluff ; friends to lovers ; enemies (?) to lovers ; eventual smut (will be tagged accordingly).

status. on going // chapter I

a.n. reader is such a !badbitch i'm really proud of her. thank you for the amazing feedback as well <3 all the likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. xoxo sophie

general tag list. (message to be added/removed) 🏷 @icedthoma @citrussaurus @danibby

syim100thl tag list. (message to be added/removed) 🏷 @daisukesimp34 @floppy-frogs @asylesias-blog @yay-its-tj @rintinsugarboi @monaypo @debo1701 @yeuryi @strawverymilktae @ajaxsrealwife @ping-pongmach1ne @rinalala @flowglow23 @creamypie-senpai @aprtrue @random-names-stuff @cafescara

CHAPTER II — reunion(s)

Yeah. You, somehow, remembered every life you lived. Was this a blessing from the Electro Archon? Or maybe a curse? 

Who knows? You certainly didn't.

The first time, you reincarnated as the daughter of a wealthy family, living on Narukami island, closely affiliated with the Shogun. You had a pretty normal childhood, being pampered and loved by your parents. But everything changed when you went to bed on the night before your birthday. The memories all came flooding in on the day you turned 5. But for some time you convinced yourself it was just a distant dream.

All the memories of living with your mother and Kunihiro were still fresh in your mind, and you'd find yourself waking up in the middle of the night, sweat all over your body because of the night terrors. On those nights, you'd sit down and delve into the deepest corners of your mind, trying to remember more of that time, from the smiles you'd share with your impoverished mother, who looked too frail to be working, to the beautiful face of the boy you found one day.

But as time went on and years flew by, you convinced yourself that it all must've been a faraway dream. Life on Narukami Island was all you ever knew. You never even stood on the cursed land of Yashiori Island, where you supposedly lived in your dreams. It was drowning in Tatarigami now...

But then, you saw him.

The man you saw in your dreams. The one who was supposed to be your best friend.

The one you shared a kiss with as you drew your dying breath. 

As strange as it may sound, that was the moment you were convinced it was all but a dream. Why, you ask? Well, if it was indeed true, the man should've been much older. 

You were already an older teenager when you died in your dream, and you were even older now, but the man looked identical. Using the same red eyeshadow that went perfectly with his indigo eyes and sported the same long purple hair. It was as if he was frozen in time... static perhaps. 

And just like that, you sighed in relief, knowing it was all but a dream. 

That's when a carriage ran over you, and just like that, you felt everything go dark again, a pair of worried indigo eyes staring at you, as its owner ran towards your body. 

"Call the doctors! The daughter of the Fujiwara Clan is in danger!"

How ironic, to die again in his arms... it felt rather nostalgic. You might've asked for a kiss again, but the darkness took over you before you could utter a word.

You don't really remember your third or fourth life. They were all pretty meaningless, with you dying young and without meeting the man again.

It was only in your 5th life that you finally accepted the fact that you kept the memories of your past lives. It was a dreadful discovery at first, and you felt very lonely. After all, when you can live multiple times, everything loses its meaning as time goes by. You have multiple parents, friends, and enemies. Nothing sticks, it seems.

You also realized you had terrible luck. Dying young, sometimes even before reaching your 5th birthday, and only realizing it when the dates didn't match.

But there was a ray of hope inside you, and that was no other than your best friend Kunihiro. If "best friend" is the right word to describe him. You've "lived" long enough to understand he's immortal. How? You don't know, but it now makes sense why he was stranded during a storm when you first met him. A normal kid would die rather quickly in the same situation. He hasn't changed a bit, but he seemed to find friends... family even, the samurai connected to the Raiden Gokaden.

You knew all this because you used every life you could to find more about him, and try to get close as well. At some point, his newfound friend died and he disappeared, the next time you saw him he went by Kunikuzushi. You tried to get close to him, but it was all futile. You were struck by lightning and died before you could even ask him out for some tea.

Until in one of your lives, you found him again, but he seemed different.

While he still wore the red eyeshadow to compliment his hypnotizing eyes, his purple hair was now cut short. And his smile wasn't as pure as it once was, but... sadistic. It scared you. This wasn't the man you knew. 

After some research, you found out he had joined the Fatui. You've heard about the organization before and knew how shady they were, but what could've been done to your Kuni?

That's when you decided, you'd meet him again. No matter how hard it was... and maybe pick up from where you left, on that faithful day.

And that's how, in your 100th life, you joined the Fatui.

You were sure joining this organization would give you bad karma for your next reincarnation. But at the same time, you hoped the Archons would be merciful and understand the reasons behind your actions. 

Joining wasn't exactly difficult. The Inazuma branch was lacking, and they needed someone who knew Inazuma like the palm of their hand. Luckily to you, you've been wandering through the islands your whole... lives? Yes, even Tsurumi Island. By the time it took you to master fighting styles and even earn a vision, you were assigned to work for the Harbinger in charge of the Inazuma branch. 

And that's when you saw him again. But now he went by his Harbinger name:

Scaramouche.

"State your name and reason to intrude on my office at these hours."

You gulped down hard at his demanding voice, sending shivers down your spine. Scaramouche's gaze felt like daggers, dangerously close,  as if they could cut you if you breathed the wrong way. 

"[🧸], sir." You didn't dare to break eye contact, even if the sheer atmosphere was enough to make it hard to take a deep breath. "I was assigned to you, I shall work with you during the next missions here in Inazuma."

"I told Tsaritsa I didn't need a fucking secretary." He didn't even try to hide the disdain in his voice. "Look, I don't need any help from a simple... thing, if you get in my way, you'll end up dead like every other subordinate before you. I don't even care if the Tsaritsa herself sent you."

You wish you could be afraid of his words, but really, in your head, all you could think about was how attractive he managed to look, even if he just threatened to murder you. 

"You do not need to worry, my lord. I'll be of most use to you." You slightly bowed, as a sign of respect. "You can even use me as a tool to get to your objectives. I do not mind." — That was a half-truth. Yes, you wanted to get close to this new version of Kuni, in hopes to get to the old him, but being manipulated to your death was the last thing in your plans as well. You weren't much of the Stockholm Syndrome type.

"Tch, that's what they all say." Scaramouche didn't even look up at you as he sorted through some important documents scattered on his desk. "Make yourself useful and bring me some tea... If it's not to my liking, I'll kill you."

"Yes, my lord." With that, you turned around and left his office.

Score! You knew exactly how Kuni liked his tea, or rather, how he liked it hundreds of years ago. Still, he loved the tea your mom brewed for him so much, that there's no way he'd forget about it. 

You were quick with your hands, you've done this so many times you could do it with your eyes closed by this point. In one of your lives, you worked in a tea shop, so this was second nature for you. 

As soon as it was done, you added the secret ingredient: an extra spoonful of sugar made from sakura bloom. Happy with the result, you went back to his office and knocked on the door before entering and setting the cup of tea on his desk. 

Scaramouche didn't even spare you a glance before taking the cup in his and carefully sipping the hot tea. At first, his expression remained neutral, but soon, for a split second, it changed to one of surprise.

The harbinger could feel the memories of a simpler time flood in, warming the space where his heart was supposed to be for a second. The times he'd spend catching herbs and dancing with his friend and a woman who was deserving of the title of "mom". It's been years since he felt like this. Before he was tinkered with by the Fatui. 

Scaramouche coughed into his hand, trying to mask the astonishment on his face. Once he regained his composure, the man took yet another sip, then another, until the tea was done. His gaze was still fixated on his papers though, and he didn't meet the eye of the person in front of him. "You may go to your room now, be here tomorrow at 7 a.m sharp." He demanded. "I hate tardiness." 

You nodded excitedly, trying to hide the smile forming on your lips. "Yes, sir! Have a good night."

And just like that, you were gone.

What a weird woman. Scaramouche thought as he stared into the cup on his desk. "Tch, she forgot to take it with her... I should’ve asked for another cup before letting her off."