HIRO X READER things [COMPLETE]

Story 36--Only you, only me

Guide:

(Y/N): Your Name

(H/C): Hair Colour

(F/C): Favourite Colour

(A.N. This is my first Yandere story...and it was a request, so I don't know how good it would be, but I hope it's okay. I have never really heard of the term before so I'm trying my best! Also, you and Hiro are slightly older here.)

"Destroy."

The word kept echoing in his subconsciousness like a command that he was expected to obey. A ghostly voice kept egging him on to destroy your admirers, the same way his Megabot would Little Yama in an illegal bot fight, in the dead of night. A small knife blade glinted in the bright glare of the moonlight against the darkness, even through the brilliant lights of the city, the blade shaking slightly by the tight grip of his hand on the worn leather hilt. His eyes were covered by a thin black cloth wrapped several times over his face. A black jacket and a pair of black jeans was wrapped around his body, not so tightly so that he could still move around and strike at the first instinct.

His target tonight? Desmond Thoshiko.

Slowly, he skirted around the crowd of people by the pier and approached an almost vacant bar , not too far from where he hid, where he saw Desmond flirting with a girl-oh no, not just ANY girl, mind you. It was a girl with (H/C) hair tumbling down her shoulders, wearing a short (F/C) dress over her sexy body. He winced as Desmond leaned and whispered something in your ear, which you giggled over.

"Sure, Desmond. Yeah," you said offhandedly.

Desmond smiled as he leaned further into you, kissing you softly behind your ear. "I'm so glad you're here, with me."

"You'd better be careful who you're meddling with, Des," you simply retorted back, a slight edge hinted in your voice. However, Desmond was so drunk he couldn't even register it.

"Oh really," he murmured. He then rounded over to you and caressed your cheek softly. "I love you, (Y/N)." He then leaned in and kissed you softly on the cheek, several times, trailing slowly and surely over to your nose and then down to your lips. "So...so...much," he whispered, oh so softly, against your skin, which tickled you as you sighed and moaned, closing your eyes.

To the murderer, that was a little bit too much for him to bear. He couldn't stand it. How many times Desmond caught you alone, in a bar, around the city-he couldn't even bear being beaten. AGAIN.

"Destroy."

He liked you. He really did. No, make it that he LOVED you. But how could he even begin to tell you that HE was the one who was killing all of your admirers? It would probably scare you, grant your worst fears coming to pass. And that was the last thing he wanted from you. Clutching harder on the knife handle, he straightened up from his crouched position by the wall and entered the bar, silently and stealthily.

Meanwhile, you were oblivious to the murderer outside as Desmond kept going, proceeding to leave gentle kisses all over your arms, down to your wrist, and then he was so close-just so close-to aiming himself at the you-know-where when he suddenly gasped, the colour drained from his face as he slumped forward, narrowly missing your body by several inches. Blood-dark, red, and thick-started flowing from his lower back and onto the floor.

For a tense moment, you didn't move, completely paralyzed by the fact that this man-this stranger whom you gave no care about-just dropped dead in front of you. Then you looked up and found yourself looking into the eyes of a man in a black mask as he pulled out the knife from the man's back, his blade now full of the red sinful fluid. He proceeded to take out an already fully bloodstained white handkerchief and wiping it clean.