𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 ─ ( yandere hazbin hotel x reader ! )

3 | with her

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -
« INSERT TAPE »
[ 𝙺𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙴𝚁 𝚀𝚄𝙴𝙴𝙽 ]
╰┈➤ ❛ rec. #3❜
playing . . .
- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

(Y/N) GETS IN HER CAR, popping open the driver's seat with ease and pressing the lock button atop the console. She waits a moment before all the locks make that ever so satisfying 'click' before letting out an extended sigh, soon morphing into a laugh. Her forehead is pressed against the cool leather hugging steering wheel. Her (H/C) hair curtained her face as her eyes bore down to her legs—recalling the humorous oblivion she had led the cops into believing.

Surely they have HAD to have seen the blood on her jeans... Yet—they didn't. Or chose not to.

How could none of the crowd members suspect that with her, all unknowing men crawl to her feet as she rips their hearts out—clean and quickly.

With her, death and despair weighs in the hearts of her victims.

With her, people choose to ignore what is plainly laid out and clear as day.

Everyone loved her.

Of course, she enjoyed it—it was something that had always come so easily to her. But the one thing that remained the biggest bother to (Y/N) was the why factor. Why, with every heart that beat at the palm of her greedy hands was given so easily to her? Why had the cops never suspected that the one witness with blood on her jeans wasn't the killer? Why had the witnesses not suspected the obvious truth that (Y/N) had indeed been the one to kill Jamie? After all, she was the only one out with him for so long.

Why had everyone dumbed themselves down just to praise (yet silently worship) this random girl?

Or perhaps...they weren't dumbing themselves down.

(Y/N) always knew there was something strangely peculiar about her. In hind sight, she was just another pretty face. Yet little to the viewers knowledge, that pretty face was harnessed to the young woman's will in order to manipulate her victims and lure them to their gruesome deaths. Her weapon was what she was given; beauty. A beauty so pure and breathtaking that it was simply irresistible, leaving people breathless and starved for more.

She was—without a doubt—evil.

It was irksome how she practically forced her admirers to eat from the palm of her hands, having them willfully sink to their knees with their chins tipped up in utter awe and admiration of the girl.

She's...a motherfucking killer queen.

To her misfortune, whilst able to have other people fall in love with her, (Y/N) was a virgin to the said feeling.

(Y/N) had always wanted to fall in love. It was something spoken so highly of, and so praised that it just had to be an exciting, exhilarating feeling. But sometimes it just...hurt. Every day, she saw a new person falling in love with her—when would she be able to seek that opportunity for herself?

Everyone was just so...boring.

Her standards must've been high—so high that no one of any being in this life was able to reach it. But she's told people she loved them. Of course she didn't mean it—but any person that heard those three magical words spill from her lips would soon fall at her knees, bleeding out for her.

And only her.

What a fun life... and what fun stories that come with it, too.

Eugh. But most people she killed have been like, SUPER horny.

Some times she could control when people were to fall for her—yet under more unfortunate times she couldn't be so lucky has to even hold them back.

Yes, she was pretty. She acknowledged it, but hadn't taken great pride in it, striding about the town whilst she had boasted of her good looks. (Y/N) was vain, but at a proper limit.

There was nothing special about Jamie. She had seen it happen a million other times with a million other people. When she wanted someone to fall for her, she would be able to easy catch their desperate ass in her open arms. (Y/N) was what some could compare to a siren from Greek mythology. Yes, that's right. She could recall learning about the half-fish people, luring sailors to their demise with a simple song—only to drown their ship and lead them to their untimely deaths.

It was the ultimate pretty privilege. She was so pretty that she could get away with murder!

A loud honk coming from a nearby sports car abruptly yanks (Y/N) from her train of thought, causing her to snap up her head as her eyes search wildly for the source. Her (E/C) eyes set on the vehicle, flashing a simple smile as punishment for their rude actions. It was to her knowledge that from that day forward, the young man in the car would forever be captivated by that one girl's glance, eventually have driven mad with obsession and ended up offing himself in the end. A sad, cruel fate for someone so young.

With her, there was chaos. With her, havoc spilled from the hearts of those under her gaze.

Yet one thought sank heavily in the depths of her hairy heart: She didn't belong here.

And she was so right...

———

(Y/N)'s car moves through the rainy night, even death itself barely managing to touch her in utter admiration. The weather was, undoubtly, very dangerous for late night drivers. To her fortune, she's able to remain unscathed as she parks her car in the garage of her humble home.

She fiddles with her keys for a moment before twisting a bronze one into the lock of her doorknob and pushing it open forcefully.

An unwelcomed shiver crawls up her spine as she feels the warmth of the heaters in her house begin to lick at her chilled flesh. A delicate hand moves to close the door behind her, and she kicks off her shoes and coat—walking upstairs to prepare for a well-earned shower.

(Y/N) peels off her blood-soaked clothes, tossing them to the corner of her bathroom to wash later. She cranks the handle and held her hand under the shower head until the water met the temperature of her liking. Steam began to paint the bathroom's mirror from the other side of the shower curtain as the faint sound of (Y/N) singing voice could be heard, filling the room with her captivating notes.

After she dries off her softened skin with a towel, she brushes her teeth and goes about her nighttime skincare routine. Once finished, (Y/N) throws herself on her bed, pulling the warm covers over her form and allows herself to crash out the moment her head hits the deep pillow.

Her body rests—becoming still and silent—though her brain is never put to rest. The moment her eyes close, and the room around her fades to black—she finds herself falling.

It is as if she had been pushed off of the edge of a cliff, and into the vast, bottomless ocean. She feels her hair linger in the air above her; never caught in the wind as she cuts through the nighttime setting. Her frame becomes limp, looking much like a child's rag doll being thrown to the side. She feels nothing—but at the same time feels everything.

(Y/N) hits the water, but it doesn't not hurt like she expected it to. It is, in fact, soft. Like she hadn't fallen into an ocean—but instead a pool of cotton. She wants to scream for help; but she does not. The words get caught in her throat, and she is too tired to fight against her fate.

And for once, she feels powerless.

─────────ೋღ ❀ ღೋ─────────
( to be continued . . . )