Hi everyone! I hit a little bit of a rocky road with this chapter, it originally was supposed to include smut, but the chapter was getting too long and I'm too tired ( I might edit this later too.) Although there is a little teaser of smut at the end of the chapter, the rest will happen in chapter 22.
I wrote the first scene spontanesouly, because I thought it would be cute to write about Illumi's first kiss haha It is a flashback scene and is a speed run through his early to teen years. After that follows the events of the previous chapter.
Chapter 21: Never After (part 2)
Illumi never dreamed of his first kiss, but he knew that one day he would marry.
This fate was told to him by his mother which to Illumi sounded more unavoidable rather than romantic, like finding a wife was inevitable as catching a cold or growing out of a pair of old shoes. It was going to happen, so Illumi didn't think much of it just like he didn't think much of catching a cold or growing out of a pair of old shoes.
However, Kikyo wished one thing for him, as she did for all her children—love. The kind of love to share his one life with another. She wanted Illumi to find true love. Passionate and unwavering and enduring, just like she had with Silva. Illumi, however, possessed a questioning mind from a young age and was more than than willing to poke brains with ceaseless questions just as effortlessly as he did with needles, much to the vexation of the adults around him: he was forbidden from having friends, but was encouraged to take on a wife. Illumi did not understand this. He did not understand how love triumphed over friendship, why one was inherently more sought after and coveted while the other was vehemently scorned to his parents. Illumi countered, armed with credible sources from his beloved stories (because where else was the truth better told than through fiction?): King Peter and Prince Caspian in The Chronicles of Narnia, Frodo and Sam in The Lord of the Rings, and even Goliath and his clan in Gargoyles. Friendship defeated ruthless tyrants, ended wars, and thwarted scheming billionaires.
Then Silva surprised his first born son, voice stern but eyes reflecting Illumi's own zest to quarrel and joust words, "in Gargoyles, Eliza Maza and Goliath thwarted the evil Xanatos time and time again, they could do that only because they were in love." This shocked Illumi, not because what his father said was true, but because his father was actually paying attention while they were watching cartoons together on Saturday mornings. This distracted Illumi from further making his argument, it was hard to stay mad when he was this happy with his dad.
It wasn't something with a definite answer in every book he read or something they could teach him, they'd said, he'd have to feel it for himself. This still didn't satisfy Illumi. His questions didn't end. What stopped his future wife from betraying him? Poisoning him? Or purposely misplacing his collection of teeth and bugs if he didn't hold her hand and call her pretty?
She might do all those things, they'd said, and so might you. Silva and Kikyo snickered at each other, reminiscing of hidden secrets and stories only kept between husbands and wives. This made even less sense to Illumi. He knew who he was, what he was capable of and who he was loyal to. One girl wouldn't change him. Only two things change people, they said, death and love. Love is as powerful and changes us all, just as death. Love can start and end wars, warm stone hearts and turn them back cold, forge new beginnings and abruptly cut them short, ignite endless possibilities and silence them to a halt, or inspire hope and reign despair. Do you understand now, they asked him.
Illumi understood (barely) that love changed people—and Illumi did not want to change. Still, Illumi thought about love, how deranged it seemed and how people were better off without it, long after that one conversation. Long after he learned that true friendship only existed in stories he used to devour in books, be it tucked in his bed or curled up in a tree. If friendship could only be found in stories, then surely it was the same for love. Love was nice for poems he'd never read or songs he'd never listen to, but he could do without it in life.
Soon, Illumi grew older and instead of long limbs and scrawny bones, his muscles toned and his features sharpened. His voice became unrecognizable to even himself as he was becoming less of a boy, but not quite flourishing into a man. One day after a particularly harrowing mission, Illumi dripped with exhaustion. His hands were stained crimson and his eyes darkened like that of storm clouds. As he returned home, he noticed he opened yet another door of the testing gate, and his height even towered over Zebro the groundskeeper. And his mother began inviting the Moiraio girls to Kukuroo Mountain more frequently.
Kikyo and Calypsa had the children write down their new years' wishes on paper, and they were going to tie them to branches later. Illumi remembered not making it to the house, instead choosing to fall back and lie in the fields as grass towered over his body and concealed him from prying mothers, little brothers, and noisy girls. He sighed, resting his eyes and wishing the earth would swallow him.
Some time after he fell asleep, he awoke to someone calling his name. It was Psyche. He wasn't surprised that if anyone were to follow him around the estate, it would be her. She stared down at him as her hair curled and fell around her heart shaped face. How long was she there? How long was she staring at him? How long…did her eyes sparkle when she gazed so intensely at him? Her dark hair shimmered with strands of fiery red under the setting sun and without a thought he reached out his hand to touch a strand of hair only for her to lean back—and sit down beside him, folding and tucking the edges of her dress around her knees that the wind kept fluttering. He blushed, looking away.
She opened her mouth—and began insulting him. She told him he doesn't make a sound when he sleeps, that he doesn't even look like he breathes. He's too still under the blustering winds and too pale even under the sun that she wasn't sure if he was alive at all. Even in sleep, he cannot allow himself to rest. He asked why she didn't try to wake him up if she thought so or alert his mom. But Psyche only shrugged in dismissal, she didn't know why either. Why was she here at all? She held out a piece of paper—with her wish written on it—and a spare and said she was told by Kikyo to bring him to the mansion so he can write his own wish.
He snatched her wish and instantly flung back his arm so she couldn't reach it as she tried in vain to grab it out of his grip. A sudden spark of energy invigorated him, jostling through his body to thwart her every effort when her face flushed red as she scolded him to give it back. Watching in awe as he made her lunge and stretch and recklessly reach beyond herself for what he always kept just a hair widths' away, always slightly attainable to her, but not quite. He wasn't so cruel to dash all her hope of getting her wish back. He wanted her to believe she still had a chance. He could feel his heart thrumming in his chest—more things he never before noticed about himself changing.
He pulled back further, now laying on his back, teasing her about her wish as she toppled clumsily over him. What did she wish for? Did she write someone's name? Did she write his name? Should he check as she continuously pleaded for him to stop and give it back? But he was curious and needed inspiration. What was he supposed to wish for when he already had everything he wanted?
Just when he thought she lost interest in reclaiming her wish—she kissed him. Illumi tensed. Things he never noticed before came rushing into the light. He never noticed how sensual her lips felt, how soft she pressed against him as if either one of them would break. He never noticed that she used scented shampoo, she smelled like sugar cookies. He never noticed how she closes her eyes when she kisses a boy she likes, or how pretty her eyelashes are up close. He never noticed how his eyes began straying to her body and lingering more than they should have.
He didn't notice her swiping her wish from his hand and running back to the mansion. She looked back at him once as he dumbly stared back, red faced and silent. Then she fled.
After experiencing his first kiss, it was all he could dream about.
Illumi offered her a home. Their own home.
Psyche knew this should have made her happy. Knew, she should have been grateful for this piece of what was but a morsel to a larger and promised life of what she always dreamed of. That he was planning their future together just as she was. And that alone should have made her happy, but it didn't. Not from the way he was packing up his belongings, the way his eyes wandered beyond herself thinking ten steps ahead of where he was supposed to be, the way his mind had already left this room. And her in it. It ached in her heart that she tried to contort the gesture into ways it should make her happy. He never commented on the balisong knife she returned to him either, he only put it in his back pocket without a word. Didn't it mean anything to him? That she always kept her promises? A sickening feeling she was all too familiar with and always tried to suppress, began to settle like a dropped stone in her stomach and soundlessly spread with the swiftness of a cold fire through her core. An ungrateful misery that left her wanting more.
"Psyche." He was speaking to her, with a voice that was stern, but earnest. She only just now noticed. "I have a contract for a job that is paramount I leave now for. You'll be returning to Kukuroo Mountain on your own. Can you make the journey?"
She hummed in agreement, but what choice did she have? What actual choice was he giving her? Regardless of what she said, she quickly learned that the outcome would end in his favor. What else could she do, as if hearing her own mother whisper in her ears to smile and be grateful for the choices he made for the both of them—men adored authority and lecturing women about the world (a false sense of superiority was the quickest way to get men to lower their guard and go in for the kill, but Psyche reasoned that marriage and assassinations shouldn't be approached the same way.)
Unfortunately, Psyche didn't have a taste for blind obedience. Instead, a brilliant idea burst to life in her head, sharing it with her beloved before thinking otherwise. "Let me come with you. It'll be easier if you have a partner. Like I said before, my family always works in pairs. I'm efficient, practical, flexible to unpredictability, adaptable under pressure, and creative under limitations!" Psyche gasped, bright eyed and bubbly. "My last job, as you know, was a thrilling one. I drove a paranoid man—the multi billionaire Dezmon Foile who was wrongfully exonerated for the murder of his gardener—into well overdue delirious insanity by turning back all his clocks and having my shadows scurry through the walls of his mansion whispering dreadful conspiracies against him! I even learned Russian, a language he was irrationally afraid of, so I could whisper through his air vents when he could hear me oh so clearly at night in bed. He died as he lived; a paranoid weasel of man who believed imaginary fiends and conspirators and assassins were all against him, which led him to one day snap and murder an innocent man in cold blood. He believed there were monsters in the woods, so I fulfilled his fears and made them real. I crafted a death fitted to his crimes, then shot him with his own murder weapon. Creative liberties aside, sneaking around is my specialty. No one ever sees me or notices me unless I want them to, and even then they see what I desire them to and that can be anything at all. I'm always in the shadows. Figuratively and literally."
Illumi hummed at his wife, who was so eager to speak of her deadly work like a delicious book whose contents had to be savored slowly and repeatedly. He wondered if she was still obsessed with 'The Captain and I' book series. He actually read the first book, Promise of the Dauntless, just so he could understand why it interested her. It didn't inspire Illumi but he saw somewhat of the appeal in a shirtless, sword wielding, stubborn do-gooder sea Captain, who was atrociously down bad since first sight alone for a lowly maid that stowed herself upon his ship to escape a harrowing past—between fighting rouge pirates plotting to overthrow the crown and conniving aristocrats bending society to their will from glistening masked balls and high teas—the series had it all. Though the smut was the best part. "Impressive. I too would like to become the mysterious thing in the woods that terrorizes the townsfolk." Illumi said wistfully, and then immediately something else in perfect Russian. "Little miss assassin spreading misfortune."
"Da!" Psyche joined in Russian, beaming. "I knew you were brilliant."
"I'm not fluent, I just know bits and pieces to get by, among other various languages, for business purposes. It is hard to conduct hostage negotiations when the other party does not know the location where to send me my money."
"You're so thoughtful. No one else can do what you can. Even if they could, you'd do it better."
Psyche was always good at stroking his ego. Sincere or not, he didn't mind if she kept going. Perhaps that's why he kept talking. "Though rarely did any of these hostage exchanges actually happen to completion, as I'm usually in disguise, hired by an outside third party to kill everyone involved. Strange how no one ever ceases to be surprised by betrayal. Isn't it always to be expected in this line of work? Oh, I also know the phrase 'officer, I have never seen those suitcases before in my life' in various languages. That's a helpful phrase to know by heart. It comes in handy, more times than one would think."
"So it's decided. I'm coming with you." Psyche squealed, deciding all on her own. "And you won't have to make a roundabout trip to Kukuroo Mountain, so right after the mission we can skip straight to our honeymoon! It's perfect. And I know exactly where we should go. How do you feel about snow white sandy beaches, crystal blue waters, and coconut lime martinis?"
Illumi smirked. This seemed to make him happy, until a voice so clear, as if it was whispered beside his ear, began to incessantly harp, 'isn't it easy for her to be lovely, when she's so desperate not to be lonely.' Then Illumi exhaled slowly, willed his mind to quiet, and his face remained as stoic and calm as before. "Beachy. But you're misinterpreting me, Psyche. What I meant to say is that you do not need to trouble yourself. I handle missions on my own."
Psyche frowned. "But I'll follow all your orders. I'm very cooperative." Psyche put her hand over her heart, as if swearing an oath. If she did swear such a thing, Illumi knew she would never break it. "I excel at teamwork! I can be a hostage if you need one! You wouldn't be surprised how many times Eros and I've made that trick work. I know we're meant to kill our targets, but it's always so nice when they think they're rescuing the helpless, chivalry is a far cry from dying—I can cry on command too. Men always feel helpless when they see girls cry. It's like something in their brains' short circuits, no offense. I can also—"
"You won't be joining me," Illumi said, never once needing to raise his voice to command silence. He was positive she said all of that in one breath. Before Psyche could demonstrate her array of skills, he added. "Only I am under contract, therefore only I will carry out this mission alone."
Psyche pouted. Joy deflating like a popped tire.
Illumi felt a twinge of—something—inside himself, realizing he was being a tad too cold. "I'm sure that with you there, it would certainly feel less like a chore. But I need it to be a chore. Understand? It'll be taxing, grueling, exhausting work—don't look too excited—though it's not anything I can't handle. Nor do I want you to feel that you must be dragged along simply due to obligation towards me and get caught in the crossfire because of it. Perhaps the biggest reason of all, I'm far too boring and unimaginative on missions, and then you will find me boring and unimaginative, which I forbid my bride from thinking of me, if I can help it."
"But I can help! Imagine all that we can accomplish together." Psyche pleaded sweetly, wishing to conspire death and mayhem with her beloved husband. "Who will you be assassinating? How will you kill them?" Planning is always her favorite part. "You said you needed a hunter's license for this job. Can you not get access into that country otherwise? Travel laws are so unnecessarily strict nowadays, always afraid to let anyone in, heaven knows why…Will you be able to text me?"
"I have a duty of confidentiality to protect. As a professional, you respect that, of course."
"...of course." Agreements of confidentiality have never stopped Psyche, nor her sisters, from spilling harrowing details about their assassinations with each other. In fact, they often had these discussions over late night snacks in the kitchen. Perhaps the Zoldycks were just stricter…but she is his wife now so shouldn't he tell her?
Illumi did not orchestrate elaborate revenge plots nor did vendettas interest him—he simply assassinates whichever target he's under contract to kill. More importantly, he could not have Psyche tag along with him, he was going to have to try a different approach. Psyche could be very stubborn, detrimentally so, with her pervasive compulsion to help others at the expense of herself. An extreme form of empathy that manifested into excessive worrying and paranoia over the needs of others. It led to her catastrophizing the worst outcomes and acting on irrational fears that transformed a very bright and rational girl into a tightly wound up self-fulfilling prophecy of self-sabotage. He could see that she was tired and yet still forced herself to meet a self-imposed bar of exceptionality, as the bare minimum with everything she does. Always striving to give and give and give. Until what? Until she was burned out? Maybe she didn't see it as a flaw, but Illumi knew it would eat her, even if she hadn't already noticed it, gradually chipping herself away. Even if she trivialized it all down to 'a good thing.' He wanted to tell her that it's okay to be selfish. He wanted to tell her that being selfish is sometimes mandatory and exactly what the mind and body need. And that she shouldn't mind what happens to him even if something atrocious were to happen like him getting run over by a car—actually no, that would hurt, nothing is worth getting run over by a car. Between thinking profound shit, he thought up plenty of stupid shit. "I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if you were to get hurt. Will you stay safe for me? And not run around half the globe while I'm away? I know you can circumnavigate the globe in under 80 days, no, probably all before noon is more accurate."
Psyche laughed, shyling looking downward and fluttering her lashes. "Alright."
"And you can help me by exploring our new home, hm? Originally, it housed apprentice butlers during their training years before they were permanently moved to the dormitories above the academy—yes we have a butler academy, I will take you on a tour of it sometime, forewarning but the students will brand you a celebrity—the house wasn't used for years and under neglect, fell into a state of disrepair. Renovations have been made to make it more accommodating and now you'll find it no more different than a modern home with all its convenient appliances. But it still retains its original antiquity, there's a fireplace, a chimney, a garden, and a balcony on the roof overlooking the property. Strangely, there are plenty of rooms and doors, but surprisingly twice the amount of unique keys. Old houses are peculiar like that, perhaps you can find all the doors where they go? Much of the original furniture still remains there. Not to mention assessing the decorations that my mother painstakingly refused not to have her hand in picking against everyone's will, but it's your home now, not hers, and you should make it as you want it. How do you feel about paintings of dogs playing poker in the foyer?"
Psyche giggled. "Are there really? No, absolutely not."
"Excellent, tear them down. What about a moth-ridden couch by the windowsill?"
"It's a fixer upper, but enjoying morning coffee together with a beautiful garden view? I love it."
As does he. "All the better. Keep what you like, throw away the rest. Make it a home you'd enjoy living in. For both of us."
Psyche smiled softly, "it can be empty and it would still be my home because of you."
Something inside Illumi stilled as he could only stare at her in silence. Then he stood up. It was time to leave.
Psyche breathlessly sulked, ready to grab him from escaping but miraculously withheld herself. "Be careful that your hunter license doesn't get stolen." She said with an odd and peculiar tone, as if wishing it would happen. If only so it'd make him turn back home sooner.
"Ever the optimist." Illumi said, but he didn't part with a heartfelt goodbye. Instead he looked straight into Psyche's eyes, with resolute purpose as he said over his shoulder past the door frame. "One more thing. If I ever try to use my needles on you again, don't let me."
That was as close to an apology as Illumi would ever get.
The door clicked shut. Illumi stalked down the hall, his heart hammering in his chest. Forgetting missions and honeymoons and an abundance of mysterious keys, and hastily counted five things he could feel: scuffing his shoes against the tiled floor, dragging his fingers across the plastered walls, touching the smooth gold bulbs on his vest, tapping a marble vase for its ricocheting echo, and finally—the floor disappeared beneath his feet and he briskly fell into an endless shadowy, black hole. As if cartoonishly plunging downward in an uncovered sewer hole. He didn't scream curses, tumble through sloppy aerial summersaults, or anxiously fling out his arms to grab nothing but air. His back remained stiff and straight as an arrow as he simply crossed his arms, and grievously sighed. If there was a floor perhaps he would be tapping his foot against it, impatiently waiting to meet his end (or a very friendly alligator) as air whipped fervently through his black hair, over his glowering eyes, and wondering if his wife was going to make this habitual. He stared out to the faux shadow tunnel all around him, it wasn't a solid stone wall or had the appearance of a burrow an animal would dig into the earth, but was composed of pulsating and wavy currents of obsidian, mulberry, and streaks of mauve. It was a clouded and blackened waterfall without a water's innate reflection. He reached out and wished to feel—anything—but felt something akin to wisps of smoke as his hand clearly divided the currents into miniscule rivulets passing through his fingers. It was lighter than water, but thicker than air as Psyche's nen slipped with ease like silky hair through a comb. Then he reasoned this was his final count—a tunnel of pure slippery nen—and was thankful for the distraction, glady finishing his grounding exercise with relief. He was still here.
He wondered if this is what Alice saw when she fell down the rabbit hole and into Wonderland. Oh! Did this make him Alice? And Psyche the White Rabbit? He rolled it over in his mind without argument and conceded. It felt appropriate. Though if he wanted to see a singing walrus dancing with oysters or a rabbit having a panic attack every time it looks at a pocket watch then he would definitely need stronger hallucinogens.
It dawned on him that Psyche could call upon a shadow tunnel and summon him anytime and anywhere. And he could do nothing but helplessly fall like a stone echoing through a yawning well. He could not deny that it was exceptional for an assassin to possess this ability, to conceal oneself in the shadows was to be essentially untouched by the world. It is the perfect fusion of discreteness, invisibility and deadliness, not to mention the godliness of traversing between space and interconnecting two distinct points by a singular bridge—or as many as she desired—together that no human could otherwise attempt, and what more can be contained within them, the possibilities appealed to him. All the applications in which he could use them opened tenfold in his mind. The excitement of it all buzzed in his body like kinetic energy, and despite her warped disposition and delusions of good deeds, she possessed the makings of truly embodying the perfect assassin. However…
Illumi felt something squirm in his back pocket. He pulled out the balisong knife and found a little shadowy creature hanging onto it for dear life. They stared at each other, with similar dark orb-like eyes. The creature curled its long, furry body into a ball, struggling to keep whatever else it stole concealed and wound tight. It looked like a ferret and it frightfully shivered under Illumi's dark and annoyed gaze. Just how many shadows did Psyche have? Maybe it was because there were wild ferrets already at Kukuroo Mountain, but Illumi found this one oddly endearing. Illumi held the little thief by the scruff of its neck and plucked the balisong knife out of its tiny grip. "That doesn't belong to you."
Illumi noticed something odd, as if black thread frayed from the ferret's tail. He wondered what it was made of as he pulled on it curiously and the thread got longer, the same color and substance as the tunnel around him. The ferret shrieked a high note, and before Illumi could finish unraveling it, it squirmed out of his hand like a floundering fish and plunged into the tunnel head first. Illumi shrugged, it chose death. He too would choose death then reveal his secrets.
A glimmer of light shined through the bottom of the hole, closing in on him at a frightening speed. Until a blinding whiteness was all he saw as he finally landed gracefully on his feet and returned back to the hotel room he just left, facing a very pretty alligator—his wife—and Willow, her snarling little shadow beast. He remembered that Willow dug the tunnels and it still looked like it wanted to bite him. He eyed the perfect forgery of a fox and internally begged for it to give it a shot, just so he could grab ahold of it, shove into sunlight and see what would happen out of pure scientific edification. However, Illumi's spiteful wish would not be granted as Willow jumped into the disappearing shadow tunnel and vanished into a wisp of nothingness. Maybe next time. No, definitely next time.
"So nice of you to drop in." Psyche cooed sweetly as shadows coalesced around her in an immense, overbearing cloak of darkness. It swirled savagely like a whirlpool and rattled the furniture like a storm. Illumi could feel it pull at him. Her aura begged for him to step closer, give in and be swallowed whole, but he did not budge an inch as he scowled at his wife. Did she intend to fight him? Keep him forever in her shadows? Did he upset her to such a degree that she desired never to let him leave? Suddenly, the shadows vanished and she smiled innocently. "Sorry. I always wanted to say that."
A corner of Illumi's mouth curved up, and an eye twitched. She summoned him back just to make a pun….actually he respected the balls out of that. "I fell right into it. But I suppose that wasn't the only reason you brought me back. There's something more you want to tell me." Illumi was surprisingly very popular today, any more attention and he could be elected homecoming king (he watched Carrie last night). Oh joy…
"Yes." Psyche nodded. "But it is what you have to tell that interests me more."
"Excuse me?"
Psyche tilted her head, that same gentle smile never wavering. "Y'know. There's no point convincing you of my talents when it's so much easier showing you them." A small shadow portal opened up above Psyche and the same tiny black ferret Illumi met a moment ago plummeted onto her hand. Psyche was an exceptional nen user, but her greatest gift was observation. "Thank you, Jennie." She scratched the ferret on its head and noticed the long thread dangling from its body, she will have to fix that later. Jennie unfurled its body, revealing a horde of treasures from Illumi's vest. Psyche's other talent was pickpocketing. There was a gold ring, a folded up piece of paper,and a sparkling black flower. A flower made entirely of nen. She tossed the paper back to Illumi. "I don't pry into people's secrets. Well, I respect boundaries outside work, of course."
Illumi caught the paper between his fingers. He unfolded it for Psyche to see. He had nothing to hide. It was a list of birds; written in black pen, smeared with nacho cheese dust fingerprints, with a doodle of Milluki as a pig in the corner declaring Killua his supreme overload. Killua was sometimes a fool, but Illumi missed his little fool. "I was holding it for my little brother, Killua. I hoped to use it as a peace offering when we reunited. Before he left home, the last conversation I had with Kil was him sharing this with me." It made Kil so happy. "I wasn't listening then, but he was trying to tell me I haven't been listening to him for a long time. I'm not so blind to think it would win him over, but I want him to know that I care. I want him to know I can do better." Also Kil needs to work on his penmanship because the only words Illumi could make out clearly were blue macaw and Happy Feet.
Psyche nodded as she twirled the flower between her fingers, using gyo and examining the shimmering lilac aura encasing the flower in order to preserve it. Psyche had never seen an aura such a beautiful color before, and one that radiantly glimmered, it was lovely and must have come from an equally lovely person in order to create it. She asked calmly, "And who does this make happy?"
Illumi was silent. Her antics are becoming less amusing to him. To top it all off, he never pocketed that flower and began to think she purposely planted it on him as false proof to spout accusations of jealousy and made-up lovers. Say she was being honest and it was already on him then why didn't he notice it sooner? Considering it glimmered with that sparkling, nauseatingly so, lilac aura—
Oh…oh shit.
Very little surprised Illumi, well except this. Psyche returned the flower to him. The kindness she possessed…was real.
"I know there's something you're keeping from me," she said. "I want to know about all the things that make you happy: the places you go, the people you meet, experiences that stay with you. If something is important to you, then it's important to me too. I want to be a part of that, of everything, but I don't want you to feel that you need to hide things from me. That you need to keep your distance. I know," Psyche rolled her shoulders, "that I'm literally talking out of my ass here, hiding family secrets and all, and I don't blame you for being apprehensive or you using your needle on me either…My family is struggling, my best friend is dead, and I don't know if my mom and I will ever see eye to eye again. It's hard to reveal things about my past; awful things that scare people, make them turn away. When something good comes my way and I open up, hoping not to lose that kind of chance… I was hesitant to take that risk again, but I did it. I want to—trying to—do better. Be better. But I would never accept this marriage if it was only to run away. I want this. It's selfish of me to ask, but I'm not ready to talk about some things yet, but I will be one day. Give me time and soon you'll know everything. Then you'll be free to make up your mind about me. So, if you have something you're not ready to reveal either, you won't have to worry about me pushing. I'll wait. I hope in time, we can tell each other everything. When we're both ready. Do we have a deal?"
A tension Illumi didn't know he was holding, released. He didn't expect this. Of her to be so understanding despite her fully knowing he was lying to her face. She deserved more than the lies he gave. In his family, the truth would be pried out of his hands until he bled, even unsubstantiable nothings did nothing but harm and condemn him—if he did not perform well to his mother's expectations, obeyed well as a son or assassin, or fulfilled all his father's repulsive demands well and with gratification. So Illumi learned to lie well, exceptionally well, from a very early age just to maintain his own peace. However, he would be a fool to use that justification now, grown and no longer his father's obedient pup, but old habits die hard. And it was easy to keep what felt most comfortable and remain unchanged when a routine that saved him more times he stopped counting, triumphed, despite still wanting to 'be better.' Illumi wondered what she meant by afraid of taking risks, but if she will not push him, then he won't either. "You deserve better than a husband who's been nothing but cold to you since the start of marriage, and you're right. I have been…distant."
Psyche breathed calmly as Illumi confirmed her worst fears. "But you can't tell me why."
"I cannot. And that will be our deal, but if things go as planned after I return from my mission, then perhaps I will tell you. Why are you smiling?"
"Because the Illumi I used to know was always so candid, spoke his mind and was unnervingly straightforward, but this is the first time in forever I've seen you so tense. I'm just glad you're finally opening up to me, even if only admitting to not. I guess people exist in multitudes."
"Sometimes too many." Illumi murmured.
"Then instead of multitudes, for now, you only need to know one side of me." Psyche said. "My sisters tell me I overthink my problems and act on those worries, and I hate to admit it, but they're right. Maybe that makes me a little unhinged, but please understand where I'm coming from. My mother expects perfection for all her children; training to master the deadly arts, withstanding torture and interrogation, inflicting brutality tenfold on those who wrong us. There is no denying that it molded us differently, no denying it crushed Eros under its weight. We witnessed each other suffer, and tried and failed to save the other. There's more I wished I could have done, I used to constantly replay moments in my head where I could have done things differently that would have led to him to still be by my side today. I hold a lot of regret, but I use that to fuel me. I love too deeply, so when I see someone in pain, I can't stand idly by. Even if they are strangers and I have no relation to them, and even if we stay strangers after parting ways. It's more than just obsessions and compulsions to me, I know in my heart it's what I've been called to in life. This was why I was meant to be an assassin. I was meant to save people, in the only way someone like me is capable of doing."
Something twisted inside of Illumi, something that craved to bite back at her words. His voice came out callous and cold, despite relishing the freedom of speaking his mind plainly. "Hmm, is that why you wanted to marry me. You believe I'm in need of saving?" Did she intend to turn him into a project of hers? Was he a sad, broken little boy that needed to be fixed in her eyes?
Psyche shook her head and smiled serenely. "These past weeks of my life have only proven to me that I've been called to something far greater. I feel it thrumming in my heart, louder and louder everyday. It's so great, even now, I feel it about to burst," Psyche's voice shook as she fitted the gold wedding band on Illumi's ring finger—it fit perfectly—and laid his hand over her chest, above her heart. Illumi's breath hitched, and he felt himself ignite as his hand rose with her own intake of breath. She pressed his hand down on her breast, and watched with loving delight how he struggled to stand without collapsing. Her tender voice dripped with honey, rosy cheeks desperate to be extinguished with a kiss. "Can you feel it too?"
Blood pulsed faster through his veins as he struggled to make sense of her words. How could she do this so easily? Open her heart and look at him like he was all that mattered? Illumi cocked his head as black hair spilled over his shoulder, and knew he was melting. He did not understand her or could manage a single thought about how their lives were predestined for higher purposes when she confused his mind to senseless drivel, how he struggled to think where he was going after this and what he would do there and whom he would meet—it mattered not now and there was little motivation to try and remember. The only thing he managed to do with a meager amount of control that slowly seeped away from him was to keep his hand still. Even that alone was futile, for before his mind compelled him, his hand leisurely squeezed against her breast as she exhaled a breathless moan, then released as an electric pulse shivered through him. She was so soft, so perfect, in his hands. He didn't know what he was asking anymore, nor if any words he were to speak after this had thought or meaning or purpose as she claimed drove her, "Which is?"
"All my life I've known I was here to serve others, but for someone else much more, someone I was destined to find above the rest." Tears brimmed in the corners of her eyes. "You saw me when others didn't, you listened to me when others refused, you were kind to me when others were cruel, you gave me my freedom when I was lost, you made me feel happy and loved when I deserved the worst. You were there." Psyche's voice was shaking, "It's you. It's always been you. Everything in my life has always pulled me towards you and now I know with absolute clarity what my purpose is, why I am here in this life at all. This life is cruel, crueler than it needs to be for one person to bear alone, but perhaps that was the only way for me to find you. In spite of that I feel so thankful—so blessed—of the only good this life has ever given me, that it led me to you, to love you, Illumi Zoldyck. If my sole purpose in life is to love you then you have already fulfilled it and made me the happiest girl alive."
There was no time to react as Psyche was pulled in by a rapid, breathless rush of arms, wrapped against her body as Illumi embraced her, putting an end to her plea with his lips upon her own. Illumi kissed her, intensely and passionately. That was all she needed to say to convince him. Shameless tears escaped down her cheeks. Nothing could make her happier than this moment. She was given this one life, to belong to him.
Psyche never knew a kiss like this. No kiss that erased her sorrows. No kiss that actualized her hope. No kiss that fulfilled everything she always longed for. This kiss was unthinkable as their lips met with fervent ardor, shivering with an exhilarating spark, further opening and gasping for more as Illumi began using his tongue, guiding her into submission under his ravenous yearning, tasting her lips until thrusting past that sent Psyche into a divine stupor. She was ready to relinquish all of herself to Illumi as he'd swiftly laid her down on her back. His beauty was all intoxicating, opulent black eyes hazed with longing. Illumi scorned restraint, for tonight he would have no need of it. It wasn't enough to savor her lips as his kisses began traversing down her cheeks, down her jaw, down further he dared to dream, but settled on her gentle neck. She shivered under his warm breath as the faint trace of his lips teased and wandered with flirtatious cruelty before the promise of devoutly tasting. He kissed her deeply and oh, she was luscious. His succulent lips prodded and nipped without consideration, enticing her to let go of fear and let him savor that glorious melody of her voice timidly catching in her throat as he kissed her rapturously. It was the only sound that blessedly made him fall on his hands and knees. A voice shamelessly begging for him—to love him, fulfill him, serve him. Arousing him as his hand moved down her supple figure; the sensuous curve of her waist, the fullness of her hips, and found its place along her thigh—gripping with purpose. He kept her and nipped her neck sweetly, but it wasn't enough before lunging forward with powerful hunger that spiraled them into a dazed and breathless spell of pleasure. A gnawing ache, so familiar and tantalizing, possessed Illumi. Deprived and starved for so long, it writhed with the insatiable lust for indecency. For it was fiercer, hungrier, and did not make way to control as if it demanded the release of an untamed beast that will not eat but devour, not worship but ravage, not endow but ruthlessly claim. Illumi obediently surrendered to this primal carnality as it rushed forth, a rough and remorseless far cry from merciful as he inflicted marks of devotion on his wife's skin for as long as it pleased him. A bruise of sensuous pink and red lingered on her neck long after he drew back. With his thumb, he circled the trace of his lips left on her skin with glorious adoration. Let everyone see his mark where she could not hide—let all know that she belonged to him. Everlastingly.
Psyche laid there, breathlessly panting as she could only hold him, fingers gripping into him as they helplessly gave into the other without shyness or hesitation, moving his hand over her breast and fondling her until she burned beautifully through her clothes. He watched unabashed as her nipple slowly peeked through her shirt, brushing the pad of his finger softly against it with lewd eagerness. Soon running his thumb back and across her hardening sensitive peak. She wanted him to touch her like that again and explore each other's bodies as they should have done on their wedding night. They knew how this night would end, how each would be wholly consumed and extinguished by the other without a care even if there was nothing salvageable left. Let there be nothing left.
A/N:
I feel like I reached a fanfic milestone by writing smut and plot in the same chapter haha I thought it would be cute to start the chapter off with their first kiss and end with their current kiss XD I'm very tired (health issues are kicking me in the ass) so i might edit this chapter later, but i really wanted to get it out! I want to put out that a few things regarding the chapter: That nen flower is the same one Hisoka gave Illumi (in chapter 14) and Illumi honestly doesn't remember, but he knows why he doesn't. I will not be writing a love triangle/cheating plotline between Illumi/Hisoka/Psyche. Ofc there will be moments where Psyche's jealousy will show, but no cheating. I'm going to dive into Psyche's nen abilities and spefically how she makes her shadows, I think it'll be fun :D
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!