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dearestones · 1 year

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Your Private Investigator (Yandere! Misora Naomi x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere character, yandere behavior, implied stalking, mentions of cheating (reader is an established relationship that is not with the yandere), implied violence, death threats, etc.

Anonymous Request: If it's not too much of a problem, could you do Yandere Misora Naomi?

The ad in the newspaper is small, cramped, and ultimately meaningless for those who don’t seek out this particular service. However, as your eyes catch on the bold lettering at the top of the advertisement, you feel a sense of hope warm your chest and for the first time since a few months ago, you almost feel light. Hesitation would have been your first instinct, but after the trials and tribulations that you have faced for so long, you picked up your phone and dialed the number that was neatly printed at the very bottom of the ad.

The voice that greets you is calm and measured, low but not grating at the ears. If you listen close enough, there’s a tinge of melancholy layering an already down to earth sort of voice, but you choose not to speculate on it. You think that there must have been a mistake, but the voice on the other end of the line proves that the ad is real.

You’re going to hire a private investigator who goes by the name of Misora Naomi.

“A pleasure to meet you,” the voice solemnly intones. You could hear the sound of porcelain clinking—was this strange person, this private investigator, drinking coffee? You could almost imagine it, her lips caressing a mug that had seen better days with coffee that was as dark and as bitter as your heart. “May I ask why you are calling?”

“It’s my partner,” you say. “They’re cheating on me and I want to know why and with who.”

It’s a tale as old as time and as cliche as the prince gathering up the princess in his arms as part of the happily ever after. You have been married to your significant other for at least a decade, the both of you having been high school sweethearts that had decided to marry in the midst of attending college. Despite the turbulence and misgivings that often accompanied such a large change in both of your lives, you had thought that both of you were made to last.

Had you not rented an apartment together for years?

Had you not shared the cost of so many things that your bank accounts were basically one and the same?

Were you not married not only in tradition and legality, but also in every sense of the word, romantic or otherwise?

Your marriage with your partner was not splintering apart, you were sure of it. Yet… There were instances where you thought that they were staying at work longer even though they had not been promoted in some time. There were also times where you caught a whiff of some delicious perfume wafting off their clothes even though that did not match any of the scents that you had catalogued as part of your shared wardrobe. In denial, you had rejected these clues and had thought that you were projecting your insecurities. Since when was your partner unfaithful? The both of you had been together for so long it was damn near sacrilege to even fathom the chance of infideliy.

However—

As much as you would like to remain on your partner’s side and see the situation from their perspective, you began to realize that they were always subtly texting someone. Was it someone from work? A close friend? You prayed to whatever deity you believed in, but it was no use. One night, you had woken up in bed and before you could fully grasp that your partner was sitting up and against the headboard, you heard their voice crooning into their phone. Bleary eyed and confused, you refrained from speaking.

And it was a good thing that you did.

What you heard chilled you to the bone and hardened the resolve that was constricting your heart.

“I love you too, baby. I’ll meet you tomorrow after work; there’s a new place that I’ve been dying to try out with you.”

There was a mumbled reply on the other end, but you paid no attention to that.

That was that.

Your partner was cheating on you.

Like a dam that had been battling the weight of the ocean, your emotions took over and muddled your feelings and thoughts. From that day forward, you kept your head held high and maintained your distance. While before you might have asked what their plans were or inquired about their day, you began to withdraw and plot in your head about all the things you wanted to do, what you wanted to say.

First thing’s first, you had to know who your partner’s new lover was.

After sending in a down payment, you waited with bated breath for a phone call or an email containing all the information you wanted. Instead, the strange woman, that Misora Naomi lady texted you the location of a nearby cafe and to come there the following day. Excited, but somewhat wary, you did not question the reasoning behind this sudden request. Would it not be efficient to email the information to you? Regardless of your suspicions, you brushed them inside.

You were going to make your partner pay and if this was part of the price to do so, then you were willing to move to South Korea if the private investigator wanted.

Entering and seating yourself at the cafe was a simple affair. You didn’t pay too much attention to the decor, but you did note that the establishment was cozy and if this were any other day, you would have brought your partner here for a date. Ah, but if only they weren’t such a heartless cheater…

“It's a pleasure to see you in person.”

You looked up from the strawberry tart that you had been idly dissecting with a fork, surprise in your eyes. Above you, with a light bow to her head, was a woman far younger than she ought to be. She had long hair like an inky, lustrous waterfall that flowed down her back and nearly blended in with her equally black attire. A form fitting coat with a high collar accentuated her angular features while her slender legs were encased in form fitting pants. The boots that added height to her figure gave her the air of someone who was both regal, yet militaristic at the same time.

Another thing you noticed, as your gaze drew back up to her face, was that her cheeks were full, but pale; her brow slightly furrowed, which made the kind light in her eyes that much disarming. Her lips molded into a perfect cupid’s bow, but it was the slight quirk at the right corner that suggested mischief, perhaps victory in her smile.

Another cliche that you added to your life: she took your breath away.

It was almost like love at first sight.

You shakily stood up from your seat and inclined your head in turn. “Yes, I’m glad to see you.” You weren’t. You would rather be huddled in your couch mourning the loss of what you considered an idyllic life, but courtesy was needed in the public eye. For now, you should remain calm and strait-laced for as long as possible. “I take it that you have good news for me?”

She nodded and pointed to the satchel that was slung across her chest and rested at her left hip. If you could grab the satchel and run away with it, you would.

Again, courtesy.

“Due to confidentiality and to ensure customer satisfaction, I will run you through my investigative process and all the evidence that I gathered. If you are still unsatisfied, I will resume my work, but that may impact my pay.”

You nodded, showing that you understood.

The investigation was a lot shorter than what you had expected, but the resulting evidence was damning. Misora had managed to trace not only one, but two mysterious lovers who were both members of the company your partner worked at. Furthermore, he had been using your shared bank account to fund his exploits with his illicit lovers. What was worse, however, was that a few weeks ago, your partner had been snooping around a law firm, one that specializes in divorce.

At that sudden drop in information, you felt yourself grow completely numb before anger took hold. Out of all the outcomes that you could have predicted the second you had sent the down payment to Misora, this was not what you had expected at all. A romantic part of you thought that once you had all the documents and paid the remaining balance to the private investigator, you would confront your once loving partner and then reveal all of their filthy, cheating ways. Just like those stupid dramas the two of you would make fun of, you would yell and cry, throw plates and furniture at the walls, before finally storming out of the room so that you could pack up your bags and leave.

However, the knowledge that your partner was at the very least thinking about divorce, made this situation even more real. More tangible. This wasn’t some sort of television drama that was played up to eleven and was riddled with cliches and common tropes. This was your life and everything was falling apart.

You were falling apart.

As you felt your throat closing up and that your hands were shaking with barely repressed emotion, you realized that there was a soft tissue padding the fullness of your cheeks. You opened your eyes (wait, when did you close them in the first place?) to see that the woman was kneeling at your side and looking up at you with what you could call concern with a touch of anger that you did not understand. Had your show of emotion moved her? Or was she so well versed in the troubles of married couples that she could not help but feel for you?

“I-I’m sorry,” you muttered. In vain, you tried to regulate your breathing, but it was far more reasonable to expect that there was a serial killer at large who had supernatural powers than to immediately calm yourself. “I’m not usually this emotional, but…”

Misora, if possible, softened even more. If it weren’t for her pitch black clothing, you would have thought her to be an angel in disguise. Something about her presence soothed you, like she always had a plan in case things went awry.

“It’s all right.” Her reassurance was punctuated as she patted your cheeks dry before offering you another tissue. You held it in your hand as she continued to kneel on the ground, a contemplative look on her face. “You’re hurt, right? What would you do to get rid of the pain?”

You huffed a laugh. Was this her way of comforting you? Regardless, the wound was fresh and you were in need of an anaesthetic of any kind to numb the pain. So, you weren’t all too bothered or thought too much of your response. “At this point? Anything.”

What you did take notice of, however, was that the woman’s eyes had grown darker with intentions that you had no way of knowing or perceiving. Something was swimming in those dark, brown depths, but you paid it no mind.

You had to go home.

Over the past few days, you kept all of the information that you had obtained from the private investigator to yourself. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to confront reality… but you were wary of changing the status quo. If you brought it up, who was going to move out of the house? What about your possessions? Were you going to change your name? What about your family and the rest of your relationships? Marriage was binding and harder to break off than any other relationship.

If you wanted out, you had to think this through.

If your partner thought that your head was up in the clouds more often than not, they did not show it. Instead, they made up more excuses to stay outside of the house and whenever they were in the same space as you, they were either always on their phone or fiddling with their own hobbies. Not once did they ask if anything was wrong.

The pieces that had been scattered in your brain were steadily being put together.

Your marriage was falling apart and sooner or later, the both of you would have to confront that inevitability.

It was with a heavy heart, that you informed your partner that you wanted to celebrate your anniversary at home. Don’t worry, you told them. You would make dinner and cancel other appointments just for your special day. Your partner had agreed and even volunteered to rent some movies to watch after your romantic dinner together.

You hoped that your partner was going to get the most expensive movies to rent because with the news that you were going to drop after dessert… you had no plans of staying to watch sappy romantic comedies with your partner.

(Unless they left, then all the movies were for you, then).

A few hours before you prepared for the dinner, you went out to the grocery store to restock on some ingredients. It would have been more beneficial to have done this earlier, perhaps yesterday or the day before, but at this point, you were antsy. You wanted out. The home that you had created with your partner had become nothing more than a prison where the both of you were festering in wounds that were left untreated. Betrayal and sadness were apparent, but bitterness and regret haunted you.

Why couldn’t your partner tell you that something was going wrong?

What had you done to deserve such treatment from someone you should have trusted?

After procuring your various groceries, you trudged back to your abode. Just a few more hours, you thought. A few more hours and then you would be free of your sham of a marriage.

As you stepped into the threshold of your home, you heard something. Now, usually, you would have dismissed it as creaking of the wood or wind coming from the outside. You were about to continue on your merry way to the kitchen, but there was that sound again. It sounded like someone was speaking, but it was… muffled? By cloth?

The anger that had been simmering the past few days began to overflow.

Has your partner brought their lovers here?

Had you not suffered enough?

This was your shared anniversary! The least that they could have done was wait until after the divorce papers were filed!

Distraught now and not willing to deal with this any longer, you threw the bags onto the floor and approached the muffled sounds. Like you expected, the sounds were coming from the bedroom. Before you could process your actions, you kicked the door open, allowing it to bang on the wall and startling the occupants inside.

“Oh… oh no.”

This was worse than what you had expected.

Instead of your partner having fun with their lovers, you saw the three of them bound by their hands and feet lying on your marriage bed. The lovers were blindfolded, but when your partner spotted you, they began to call out for you, the gag in the mouth doing little to hinder their pleas.

No longer concerned about the affair, you rushed to them.

“Who did this to you? Where are they?”

You went for the gag first.

“Y-you have to leave! Right now!”

“But—!”

“Behind you!”

You fell away from your partner and turned around, the sensation of someone hovering over your shoulder sent your senses into overdrive.

“Miss Misora?”

The private investigator you had dismissed upon the completion of her assignment stood behind you, a pleased smile on her face. Her pale complexion had become flushed, cheeks as red as freshly bloomed roses, with what you assumed was childlike happiness. Before, she had been wearing an all dark ensemble, something that she had repeated today. However, at her waist, there was a gun resting in its holster.

Your lips trembled. “Why? What are you…?”

The woman brandished her gun at your partner and his lovers, which rendered them all eerily silent. Within the heavy atmosphere of the bedroom, you were all too aware of your haggard breaths and the sweat dripping down your forehead and coating the back of your neck.

You closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

Slender fingers traced patterns on your cheeks. You looked up to see that the private investigator was gazing down at you with mad fondness in her gaze. Dark desire glimmered in her dark eyes while her pale lips lifted in a phantom smile.

“You’d do anything to get rid of the pain, right? Well, here.” She turned you around and with swift movements, curled your fingers around the gun. Her hands encased yours and while the warmth and the solidity of her body rested against your back. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t move.

The gun was cold and your hands were clammy.

Yet, the breath on the back of your neck was warm.

“Consider this our first anniversary present, love. Now,” she curled your finger against the trigger, “shoot.”

DISCLAIMER: I do not condone yandere behavior outside of fictional settings. Please don’t mistake the actions of fictional characters displayed in works of fiction to be considered harmless in real life.

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