(Yandere!Demon Slayer x F!Reader)
(Warning! Major Themes of Blood, Gore, and Suicide)
红颜薄命 : Beautiful women suffer unhappy fates.
Everybody wants to be beautiful. People who believe they aren't, try their best to achieve it. People who believe they...
!!!WARNING!!! This story contains heavy themes of blood, gore, suicide, s*xual-assault, and yandere themes.
Story contains spoilers from the anime and manga.
Reader's Discretion is Advised
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The Beginning
In a dark, cold room, a man sat hunched over on tatami floorings. Tears of sadness, resentment, and hopelessness streamed down his face. A yellowing sheet of parchment and a slab with grounded ink laid in front of him. His hands shook as he wrote. Thin and thick strokes of black ink were scattered down the parchment, some words barely legible.
After finishing the last character, he dropped his brush, the wood echoing as it hit the floor and rolled off. The man heaved a shaky sigh and with tear-filled eyes, he glared down at the paper. Wiping the salty streams off of his forlorn face, he stared at the words for a moment longer before shaking his head. The man crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it to the side with a heavy heart.
She would not care.
Emptiness filled his eyes in place of the overwhelming sadness as he lifted up the sickle placed on the ground beside him. His battered hands gripped the handle tightly. Shakily, the man slowly raised it up. Through the cracks of the shoji window, the soft glow of the moon reflected off of the sharp blade.
He closed his eyes and with one swift motion, he slashed the tool across his throat. Blood rushed from the wound liked a waterfall, covering the floor in a sea of red.
The man fell to the floor with a thud.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
In another room, a pretty woman sat with a needle and cloth in hand. She hummed, lightly tapping her foot against the floor as she embroidered a pair of ducks into the fabric.
Thump
The woman jumped at the sudden sound, accidentally pricking her finger. The woman sighed and brought the thin finger up to her mouth. She stood up and picked up the oil lamp on the table beside her before making her way to the bedroom she shared with her husband.
As she walked down the narrow hall, a scent of iron wafted through the halls, growing stronger as she neared her bedroom.
"Jiro?" she called out as she reached for the door.
