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peachdues · 23 days

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THE WIND AND MOON

PROLOGUE ♢ SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA X LUNAR PILLAR!READER

A/N: oh boy! The fic that started it all is back in progress (with a slight title change).

This will be a slightly canon-divergent AU, wherein Lunar Breathing is inherited and there's actually some power involved with the breathing techniques as a whole (as opposed to the styles just being nice sword movements with illustrations lmao).

Reader will be Sanemi's tsuguko for a time, and she will eventually become a Hashira. This is their story.

This will be a multi-part fic. Be warned: the Reader is a very morally gray character (but we love her for it).

@ghost-1-y thank you for reminding me of my love for this fic.

Massive CW: 18+, canon-typical violence, graphic violence, gore, child death, and implied S/A. Smut to come. MDNI.

Sanemi was there that day; the day she became part of the Corps.

The day her world ended.

It was fucking freezing that morning. The sky was a muted gray as snow drifted down from the heavens in wet, fat clumps. It had started sometime the previous night, and by the morning, the village had been covered in its thick blanket.

The carnage, however, was fresh, and so the snow was not white.

Only an hour had passed since the watery gray light of dawn bled into the sky from the east, when Sanemi’s crow swooped low over his head, tugging frantically at his hair. Beside him, the Flame Pillar ducked as his own crow joined the panic.

“Northeast! Northeast! Right at the base of the mountain! A horde of demons attacked the village!” They cried in tandem.

Not just one. A horde. A swarm of demons had descended upon a moderately populated merchant village, tearing it and its people to shreds.

Both the Wind and Flame Pillars furiously made their way northeast, one of the crows bleating that Tengen and Iguro were also en route. As they ran, the birds alternated in snaring what little information they had of the village, and what had prompted the attack.

It was because of her; or rather, her family.

The head of the village was a merchant known for his imports from the West. His success meant the village prospered as a whole, and it was popular for its numerous small shops and tea houses which lined the streets, always crowded with locals and travelers alike.

Demons had no use for money or exotic baubles; but Muzan Kibutsuji had a keen interest in obliterating Lunar Breathing from the world.

So he had.

The very merchant whose business prowess bolstered the local economy with his imports was directly descended from the clan which had created Lunar Breathing, Breath of Sun’s powerful, dark twin. The merchant was the youngest and only living relative of the aging head of the Lunar Clan, a retired Hashira who’d never taken a wife. But unlike the other breathing techniques, Lunar Breathing was an inherited talent, and without an heir, there would be no one to continue the great family’s legacy.

That burden was thus placed on the surviving eldest child of the merchant whose village both Sanemi and his comrade now rushed to.

There had been an elder son, Rengoku’s crow revealed, but he had died a few years prior from illness. And so, the merchant’s middle child was made the new heir, tasked with the mission of becoming a demon slayer so that she could continue on the Lunar Breathing tradition.

Her.

There was no word as to whether she had been present for the attack. Final Selection ended only a few days prior, and it was entirely possible that she either had been killed on the Mountain, or that she was still making her way back to the village, unaware that no one would be there to welcome her home.

There was certainly no greeting for the Pillars when they finally arrived at the mountain’s base. The village was eerily silent as Sanemi and Rengoku crossed over the small bridge abutting its ravine; still. Dawn had given way to a dark gray sky, and visibility was not ideal.

Not that it would’ve taken much effort to see the blood and gore that littered the village’s once lively streets.

“What on earth?” The Sound Pillar’s familiar voice broke the silence, as he and Iguro approached their comrades from the Eastern gate of the village. Behind them, trailed a group of nearly thirty Kakushi.

The Hashira slowly took in the nightmare around them, stunned into horrified silence as they beheld the level of destruction which had befallen the village just hours before.

“Kakushi. Spread out. Look for any survivors. They may be buried or hiding.” Rengoku’s voice was steady but uncharacteristically grave, his face stony and hard. “Shinuzagawa, we should make our way to the Lunar Merchant’s estate. We need to send word to the Clan head right away if-“

“You didn’t hear?” Iguro interjected. “The head of the Lunar House is dead.” Though the lower half of his face was covered, the anguish on the Serpent Pillar’s face was evident. “That’s where Uzui and I just came from. He was ripped to shreds.”

“Fuck,” Sanemi hissed, a toxic mixture of anger, guilt roiling in his gut. An entire clan — and entire village— had been decimated in a matter of hours, and no one had been able to protect them.

They hadn’t been able to protect them.

“Have we any word on the Lunar heir?” Rengoku asked quietly. Iguro and Uzui shook their heads. “Then she likely is lost, too.” The Flame Pillar turned back to Sanemi, his face a mirror of his own. “Let’s go.”

The snow and wind picked up just as the two swordsmen approached the Lunar Merchant’s manor, obscuring part of the wreckage before them. From the corner of his eye, Sanemi swore he spied movement out of the back corner of the estate, but when he turned to examine it, all was still.

Beflre he could inquire further, a sharp gasp to his right snapped his attention back to the Pillar at his side. But Rengoku was not looking at him; rather, he was staring directly ahead, right to the courtyard of the manor.

“Heavens above,” the Flame Hashira whispered.

Sanemi followed his gaze through what had been once-proud iron gates, though only half of it remained hinged. The other had been ripped from its stone setting, twisted by some unfathomable strength and thrown carelessly to the side. Just past the gate, Sanemi beheld a single, bloodied arm.

His heart dropped sickeningly to his stomach at what lay beyond it; for there was not an inch of ground that hadn’t been saturated with blood and bits of gore.

Chunks of flesh and torn limbs bearing harsh jagged teeth marks were strewn across the snowy garden. Broken glass and wood from the manor littered the ground, and the few walls that remained standing had been showered in a thick coat of crimson.

But the carnage did not end with the massacre on the courtyard. Sanemi forced himself to look upon the half-severed bodies of those who’d been stuck to the sloped roofing of the Manor, as though some demon had plucked fleeing humans from the yard to feast on them mid-air, adorning the handsome estate with a shower of bloodied entrails.

He did not notice the small group of Kakushi that had arrived at the Manor until he heard their gasps and cries of horror. Behind him, Sanemi heard one or two begin to retch, unable to stomach the carnage before them.

“Move!” Sanemi barked, his voice scratchy over the lump forming in his throat. “Fucking look for survivors! Anyone!”

A few paces ahead, Rengoku called up to the crows checking above. “Do you have a description of the heir?”

“She is around eighteen, Lord Rengoku!”

Not helpful, given that most of the bodies around them were unrecognizable. But it was something.

Rengoku turned back to Sanemi. “I will check inside the house. You!” Rengoku called to a small group of three Kakushi nearby, “With me!”

Sanemi continued to make his way through the debris and body parts in the courtyard, lifting stone and wood in hope that he might find someone — anyone — who had managed to hide. Yet that hope dimmed with every stone he turned, as he found only the scraps of the people who’d once called the Manor home.

He came across a large chunk of curved, chiseled stone that was half-embedded into the soft ground below. Grunting, Sanemi heaved the rock aside, thinking it was perhaps part of some fountain or statue.

His stomach lurched as the stone toppled heavily over. For there, crushed beneath the weight of the rock, was the small body of a child, severed completely at the torso. Her two halves lay next to one another, a ragged seam torn between the two as though pulled apart by force.

Sanemi felt the bile rise in his throat as his gaze fell upon the child’s face, utterly frozen in fear. Though death had snuffed out the light of life from her eyes, it had done nothing to conceal the terror she’d felt in her last moments, the girl’s mouth stretched wide, fixed in her final scream.

She was no older than ten.

He could not help it. Sanemi turned away from the grisly sight and vomited into the snow, every inch of him trembling. He wretched until his stomach was empty and his throat burned from the acid and strain of his dry-heaving.

With great effort, he managed to straighten, his breath short and choppy. But he forced his legs to carry him forward, though any hope that they would find the Lunar Heir or any survivor grew dimmer by the second.

Even as Hashira, Sanemi knew he’d never seen wreckage quite like this.

He neared the center of the courtyard, and halted before a large, circular stone inset that had been smashed to gravel, leaving only a single, large piece of rounded stone wall standing.

Had the Wind Pillar’s lilac gaze been focused anywhere but that piece of stone, he would have missed it softly fluttering up before disappearing beneath the lip of the fountain.

Lips mashed into a tight line, Sanemi moved to examine the other side of the broken stone. As he did so, Rengoku reappeared on the outer steps of the engawa surrounding the Manor, a frown etched deeply on his face.

“Shinazugawa, something is off. The demons’ presence is obvious, but the house looks like it was ransacked— jewels, silks, valuables, all strewn about. Some of it seems to be missing —“

“I found her.” Sanemi bit out, gruffly. “The heir.”

It was her hair, Sanemi realized. Her hair was what had been disturbed by the wind, a few strands having drifted up before settling back down upon the bloodied shoulder of the lifeless girl collapsed before the fountain.

Had there not been a thick spread of red-stained snow and earth beneath her, Sanemi almost would have thought she’d been sleeping. Her face was almost devoid of any injury, save for a few fresh scratches along her jaw and temple. Her eyes were closed, long dark lashes tickling a soft, and unblemished cheek, as pale and smooth as the Moon. And there was a serenity to her expression, a calmness that posed a stark contrast to the chaos and horror which surrounded her.

The rest of her had not been left untouched. Sanemi noted that while she appeared to have maintained her limbs, her back was soaked in blood, no doubt the source of the large stain beneath her. Grimly, he noted that her blood still oozed from an unknown wound between her shoulders. Her left arm was stretched out before her, wrist bent at an unnatural angle, its skin mottled from a mixture of the cold and an attempt to bruise before her blood had ceased flowing in her veins.

Beneath the torn and bloodied haori around her shoulders, were a pair of pants and a fitted, long sleeved top which had clearly seen better days. Her clothes hosted various tears and stains, and she was so caked in blood and mud that it was difficult to further discern her body’s condition.

The crows had said the Lunar Heir was around eighteen years of age, but as Sanemi stared at her lifeless form, all he could think about was how small she looked; how young she’d been, when she lost her life to the brutality of demons.

The thought made his blood run cold.

“No doubt this is her,” Rengoku said heavily, nodding at wounds Sanemi had not noticed on her hands. Squinting, the Wind Pillar spied bruises and cuts in various stages of healing dotting her knuckles and fingers.

He suspected more lay beneath her soiled clothing.

“Final selection wounds,” the Flame Pillar confirmed. “She must have just returned from the mountain when the attack began. Perhaps she even stumbled into the middle of it.” Rengoku shook his head. “She didn’t stand a chance.”

It was well known that even if one survived final selection, they would likely descend the mountain with some degree of injury. Seven nights without access to shelter, food, or water was difficult enough, but the added danger of starving demons almost guaranteed that one would not emerge unscathed.

She must have been wounded, and severely enough to slow her return home by a few days. Even if she had the skill to hold her own against the swarm of demons that had attacked her village, whatever injuries she sustained during final selection likely sealed her fate.

Sanemi swore, looking over the last of the Lunar Breathing Clan, the acrid bite of guilt and pity seeping hotly into his veins. The poor girl survived the controlled horrors of final selection only to meet an even more grisly end at her home — where she was supposed to be safe.

Cruelty; utter cruelty, and a damn tragedy.

“She will get a Slayer’s burial, in the Master’s garden.” Rengoku declared firmly, raising his voice so the nearby Kakushi would hear. “She passed Final Selection; she’s one of us.”

“No,” Sanemi said, voice hoarse. “Bury her here with her family.” His eyes returned to the girl’s face, an inexplicable bitterness coating his tongue. “She fought to return to them; let her be with them.”

He lifted his eyes back up to the ochre gaze of the Flame Pillar. Rengoku stared at him for a long moment, before nodding, turning back to the Kakushi. “You heard Shinazugawa. Let’s give them all a proper burial.”

His eyes lowered a fraction to the front of the girl’s pants. At first glance, all seemend normal, her trousers fitted at her hips, but that was precisely what caught his eye. The waistband on the girl’s pants slotted across her lower hips, not higher up on her waist as it should have been. One side was noticeably lower than the other, almost as though they’d nearly been tugged off.

Almost as if-

Sanemi felt the hairs on his body rise. Looking over the girl once more, he noted the suspicious lack of claw marks and bite marks to her body; the way that she seemed intact, compared to the bodies of her friends and family scattered in pieces around her.

And her blood — her blood appeared more fresh than what was caked in the snow around them, as though she’d been attacked right before the Corps arrived at the manor’s gate.

“Rengoku,” Sanemi said sharply, and the Flame Hashira was back at his side in an instant. Sanemi jutted his chin toward the girl’s body and Rengoku followed his gaze. He could see the gears turning in his comrade’s head, the owlish Slayer steadily taking note of the odd skew of her clothes and her lack of demon-like injuries.

“How many demons do you know that try to-,” Sanemi ground his teeth at the word that came to mind, his blood boiling hot. “Have their way with victims before eating them?”

“Not many,” Rengoku conceded darkly, a similar anger simmering in his eyes. “Though not unheard of. It is… rare. Most can’t resist their hunger.”

He fell silent for a moment, contemplating.

“Didn’t you say the house had looked ransacked?” Sanemi turned his gaze away from the girl and towards the broken doors of the manor.

Rengoku’s eyes widened. “Yes. As if someone came in and grabbed anything they could.”

Sanemi nodded. “Bandits. Probably heard about the attack and got excited to loot. Found a body that wasn’t completely torn apart by demons and tried to take advantage.”

Rather than bile, Sanemi felt anger, hot and lethal, threatening to spill out of him.

If he found them, they would receive no mercy, human or not.

Rengoku exhaled sharply through his nose, a weariness clouding over his features. “Though I don’t suppose we can really know for sure. There isn’t enough left of anyone else to compare.”

Rengoku clasped his hands in front of himself, and he closed his eyes, offering a small prayer for the girl. “Whatever happened to her, she’s gone now. Let us ensure she can rest.”

He turned to head back to where the Kakushi had begun digging graves for the deceased, leaving Sanemi alone once more.

He’d stared the spot where the girl’s body had lain long after a pair of Kakushi gently removed her to ready her for her burial, watching with hollow eyes and a hollow heart as the one of them — a female — tenderly brushed the girl’s hair from her face and straightened her haori. They’d crossed her arms over her middle and gingerly carried her to join the remains of her family.

Hers was the last of the graves to be prepared. The Kakushi were just beginning to pack the mud and snow over her body when one of them collapsed from exhaustion. The group resolved to take a small water break before finishing, and neither Shinazugawa nor Rengoku had the desire to object.

After all, digging nearly twenty graves was no easy task.

Both Hashira assisted with the effort, and their combined strength and stamina had streamlined the task considerably. While the Kakushi rested, Rengoku departed for the front gates to update Uzui and Iguro, who’d been dealing with the wreckage within the village, assisted by reinforcements of both Kakushi and lower rank slayers called in to assist with the clean up and burial.

In total, over two hundred graves were dug, and not a single survivor had been found.

It was a heavy day — perhaps one of the darkest in the Corp’s history, and its crowning poisoned jewel was the eradication of one of the oldest breathing styles.The news that there was one less defense against the demons was not a welcome one.

Sanemi had gone to the other side of the courtyard, away from the voices and graves and rising stink of death. Out of sight from any prying eyes, he found a tree and shoved his fist through it, clear to the other side. Splinters of bark exploded around his arm and bit into the skin around his knuckles and palm, but Sanemi could not find it in himself to care; he sought only to break through the silent numbness threatening to consume him.

Because he’d taken refuge on the other side of the courtyard, away from the new burial site, Sanemi did not see the hand and arm that shoved through the pile of earth resting atop the last grave. He did not see clawed fingers sinking into the mud and snow, desperately seeking purchase as the body attached to the arm hauled itself — herself — from beneath the earth, the remnants of her grave skittering to the side as she heaved her body out.

Sanemi did hear the terrified shriek of the Kakushi, and immediately he drew his sword. In the distance, he could hear Rengoku roaring orders at the terrified attendants, though he could not discern the specifics.

The Wind Pillar came into view of the gravesite right as the girl spilled out from the hole in the ground, using her bare hands to pull herself forward as the rest of her body remained limp.

Sanemi Shinazugawa was not a pious man; in fact, he considered himself rather skeptical of the idea of faith. If there were truly any gods out there, then Sanemi wanted nothing to do with them. They chose to let chaos and devastation run rampant. They chose to let demons exists.

But hell apparently had frozen over, and Sanemi found himself offering a prayer for the girl’s forgiveness as he prepared to behead her demonized form. He hoped she would understand; after all, she’d joined the Corps intending to rid of the world of the very thing she’d now become.

It was what he hoped one his his fellow Hashira would do for him, if he ever found himself in that situation.

As the Swordsman cocked his blade, ready to strike the crawling demon from behind, Rengoku cried out. “Shinazugawa, NO!”

Sanemi stuttered, his arm in mid-swing as he neared the demon’s neck. A flash of violet and white shot towards him, and a piercing shriek of metal tore through the sky as Uzui’s blade parried his, the force of the clash knocking him out of the air. A frustrated grunt echoed from his chest, and with great effort, Sanemi twisted mid-air to avoid falling flat on his ass, just barely managing to land swiftly on the balls of his feet.

“What the fuck,-“ His vicious snarl faltered at the expression on the Flame Hashira’s face, frozen and gaping. In that moment, Sanemi’s ears picked up on the faint thumping of a heart beating rapidly and unevenly below him. His nose suddenly burned with the strong scent of iron. The stench of blood so metallic that it could not have been anything but fresh.

Ears ringing, the Wind Pillar shoved past his stupefied comrades. Only when he was face to face with her did Sanemi finally understand why the Flame Pillar had been so desperate to stop his sword from hitting its mark.

The three Hashira were not looking at a newly turned and bloodthirsty demon. Instead, dragging her way across the bloodstained, muddied snow, was the Lunar Heir, deathly pale and trembling..

The girl whose death they feared doomed the Lunar Breathing House had clawed her way out from her grave with nothing but her hands and sheer will. She’d not been dead, after all.

Slowly, so slowly, her eyes lifted to glare up at the one standing directly before her. Though she strained to raise her head more than half an inch, her silver eyes met Sanemi’s lavender gaze, and a violent chill shot up his spine as he beheld what simmered within them.

Defiance.

Pain.

Rage. So, so much rage, relentless and raw. And so very human.

She reached another quivering hand out before her to further drag herself away from her tomb. A thin sheen of sweat coated her pallid skin, and fresh crimson began to seep into the snow beneath her.

Sanemi’s eyes flit to the stain on her back, where fresh blood oozed from the deep wound.

She was panting, clearly fighting every urge in her body to give in, to let death beckon her back into its sweet embrace.

“I-I’m not dead!” She grit out in between shallow, uneven breaths, her jaw clenched tightly enough to crack her teeth.

The three Hashira remained dumb and silent for half a heartbeat before-

“What are you all standing there for?” Uzui bellowed. “Help her!”

The Kakushi sputtered into action, several of them crouching down around the girl to aid her.

“Don’t touch me!” She screamed, eyes screwed shut and her head bowed defensively over her hands as she clenched her fists into the earth. The Kakushi fell back, looking anxiously to the Pillars to await further orders, but even they were at a loss. After several, harsh breaths through her nose, the Lunar Heir turned her face up, her gaze clashing with Sanemi’s once more.

He recognized the fear in her eyes, visceral and deep. Whatever she’d experienced over the last few hours had overtaken all her senses. She had no logic, no ability to rationalize that she was among other humans, among comrades.

Instead, all that drove her now was the primal instinct to survive.

And to her, they were another threat.

She continued to try and crawl away from them, but her movements grew even shakier, more unstable, as the blood loss combined with her physical exhaustion. Rengoku caught his comrades’ eyes, waiting to confirm their next move.

A quick shared nod sent Sanemi stepping quietly into her blindspot. Swiftly, the Wind Pillar struck the pressure point on the back of the woman’s neck with his hand, and she crumpled against the ground, unconscious and still. Gingerly, Sanemi lifted her over his shoulder, mindful of the open wound on her back.

Once she was secured, the Hashira and their Kakushi began their frantic sprint toward the Butterfly Mansion.

COMMENTS/LIKES/REBLOGS ALWAYS APPRECIATED!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kn y smut #demon slayer smut #shinazugawa sanemi #demon slayer fic #demon slayer fanfic

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aspiringwarriorlibrarian · 1 year

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Benoit Blanc entered this mystery by setting up an elaborate dead twin stunt and exited it by saying “Well we have no legal recourse, what a shame” and then handing a bomb to the victim’s sister and retreating to a safe distance to watch the carnage.

#glass onion #glass onion spoilers #benoit blanc

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oepionie · 1 year

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— "MY JOLLY SAILOR BOLD." tweels

💭masterlist | 💬ao3 link

SYNOPSIS: You meet two mysterious yet beautiful mermen around your age and you ask them to sing for you. They agree—though there's one condition....they want a kiss in return. A fair deal and you decide that nothing could possibly go wrong....right?

⊹ [ cw ] — suggestive, making out, lovesick/slightly yan-coded behavior, both of them pin for you, drowning, the tweels deserve a warning themselves, fighting, mild blood and injuries, mentions of murder, everyone here is morally grey◞

⊹ [ tags ] — gn! reader, on my siren eel agenda, flirty pirate mc, siren-eels are not to be messed with but mc is reckless, jade and floyd having an ariel moment but they're…a fucked up version of ariel, typical siren-behavior, floyd calls you pretty◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 3.3k+◞

WHAT AN ODD LITTLE pirate you were.

Raised by your mother, horrific twisted tales of the deep were practically bedtime stories for you. She was a former ship's captain and a seasoned sailor who had spent more than half of her life at sea.

Mother weaved tales of glorious bloody battles, of thrashing waves, and, most importantly, of dangerous creatures in the sea. Hatred and fear for these grotesque marine creatures have been indoctrinated in you since you were young. It was imbued to the very core of your being, hammered and nailed into your head.

Alas, it appears that you have entirely disregarded the cautions that were issued to you. Any capable pirate knew better than to invite merfolk around.

Especially if you were all alone on a ship.

This year, spring had arrived a little earlier than usual, but you didn't mind at all.

It was at an obscene hour of the night when you were aimlessly paddling your little rowboat over the waves.

Floating a few feet away from your ship, you were gazing out over the sea where the waters were flat and serene, blue as far as your vision would allow. It was a sight you've grown all too accustomed to seeing.

You've sailed a hundred expeditions down this route and you were well aware of the carnage and bloodshed that’s been wrought here in the name of piracy.

A majority of which you've taken part in as—Captain (Y/N).

Young as you were, despite your youth, you had ambition. Already having established yourself as a living legend—or, as some have dubbed you, a living nightmare.

Sailors—young and old—have perished in your name, ships have sunk at your command, and your sword has spilt the blood of hundreds. You had amassed a great fortune from wandering merchants, and fellow pirates alike, all of which were misfortunate enough to fall upon your path.

These were tales and legends from bygone eras; the golden age of piracy had long since passed. Nowadays, you just cruise the sea anyway you pleased.

Adventure seldom found you.

In the middle of reminiscing, you abruptly became aware of a shimmering brilliance beneath the murky sea.

Oh?

'Maybe it was a trick of the waves? Or was it the moonlight's illusion?' You ponder to yourself as you stand at the stern of the boat and look out into the dreary waters.

The entire ocean sleeps when the moon is full. In the middle of the night, no fish or creature would dare remain thus near a boat...so what could possibly be out there?

Peering down, you make eye contact with a pair of glowing yellow eyes, slitted into diamonds.

Startled, the unknown creature slips back into the darkness with scarcely a ripple to disrupt the waves enveloping all about them. You're hypnotized by their shimmering skin as they moved smoothly and elegantly past the icy surfs.

In those short seconds while staring into the pitch-black sea, your mind conjures only one word.

Mermaid.

STRANGE AND STRANGELY FASCINATING, it was. "It" being the obsessive infatuation the Leech twins had for you.

Since they were little, the two brothers have been watching you grow up on that ship, peeping at you behind rocks and tall clusters of brilliant coral.

Curiosity and an interest for humans drew them to you at first, so they thought nothing of it. However, later, as they grew older, that interest developed into something more.

One that made their hearts feel like it was going to burst, a blood-curdling carnage of red and pink spills gushing out in a splatter. With the mere mention of your name, their stomachs sink and turn. The hems of love along their hearts diving into obsession—both feelings closely akin.

Jade and Floyd haven't run upon anyone who was courageous enough to meet creatures like them. Though, they shouldn’t have expected anything less from a pirate like you with an astronomical desire for adventure.

As you waved down at them from the ocean's depths, both of them swiftly swam up to the surface, eager to meet you. Their hands were clamoring and their hearts were racing to a tune that sang praises for you.

"There you are." You grinned handsomely, cocking your head to the side. The flowing fabric of your blouse blew wildly in the fresh salty wind, exposing bits and pieces of your chest and neck for them to see. "Hello~"

Big love-tinted eyes peeked up at you, drinking in every feature, blemish, and scar on your flesh. Occasionally, your gazes would meet and they would quickly avert their stare—a deep blue hue creeping up their cheeks, almost as if they felt bashful around you.

Even then, you thought it would be more appropriate if you were the one who was acting timid.

Because, by the gods, their beauty was such a sight to behold above the waters. In all your years out at sea and land, you've seen no maiden nor man with such features.

Such captivating features.

Teal-haired, with keen, slitted eyes that were veiled with thick, drooping lashes. Cheeks colored with a pale touch of death.

They were breathtakingly beautiful.

There was an urge, a pull at your heart to dive down and join them—drowning yourself in their embrace. Though, you resisted, almost immediately recognizing the sorcery that pulled on your carnal desires.

Mother and weather-beaten sailors had warned you of this. This overwhelming want. This spellbinding stare. Yet as they both drift closer, the forewarned dangers vanishes from your thoughts like mist. You're now left with little more than a hazy consciousness as you see them approach your boat.

You are in grave danger yet you are not afraid. Fear does not grip you as you raise a leg over the side of the boat, swing it over the top of the wood, and then sit over the edge, never taking your eyes off the mermen in front of you.

Their entire body, apart from their eyes, were submerged in the water which made it hard to determine what their species were. Though you could occasionally catch the flicker of their tail slapping against the surface.

Speaking of their tail, it was an utterly resplendent sight! Even if you tried, you wouldn't be able to explain its magnificience as it gleamed brighter than any of the gold or jewels your sullied hands have ever taken hold of.

Its lack of a single color and its vivid, luminous nature fascinated you. Depending on how the moonlight hit it, it radiated a wide range of shades, from the deep tint of blueish teal to a rich shade of bluish jade.

"First time away from your home?" You rasp, waving a hand in the ocean, watching as small ripples curved against the water's surface, tides of the blue abyss travelling outwards.

Minutes pass, and yet you get no response.

"Hmm…you two don't talk much, do you?"

Jade and Floyd knew all about pirates, heard every story, whisper, and tale of the bloodthirsty monsters fueled by lust for gold and glory. And yet, they somehow struggle to picture you as the avaricious captain you were labelled as.

Still, while you appeared free and jovial, both of them could sense that you yearned for the thrill of danger, for life-threatening adventure, and for the many fantastic yet perilous things the ocean has to offer.

They exchanged glances, and at that instant, their plan was set in place.

Appearing docile, Floyd shook his head no, hovering near you and spinning around playfully.

"Awe, aren't you a cute little guy?" You cooed, running a rough hand along his back. The mer shivered, preening at your compliment.

"I really shouldn't be so close to you, though. Us pirates usually avoid approaching any merfolk since…they feel your methods, your ways of living are…" You trailed off, waving a hand in the air as you searched for the right words.

"Spooky?" Jade spoke out, swimming closer to you with a sinister glitter in his eyes. Breath hitching in your throat, you leaned towards him, an amused smirk slowly stretching across your cheeks. "Oh ho? You do talk."

"I can do much more than that." Jade purred, the tone of his voice sinking into a sonorous lull.

Well, you certainly can’t deny that something draws you to these two.

The predictability of your life on these seas has gotten boring to you. Gone were the days of bloodthirsty glory instead, it was always the same routine. Poring over the same ancient yellowed maps, loitering about the deck, and secluding yourself away in the vast sea.

You know your mother would be horrified by your actions, disgusted to see you mingling and, Poseidon forbid—flirting with these…mer.

Though you couldn't bring yourself to care. Speaking with these two was the closest thing to excitement you've felt in a long time.

"That's a pretty voice, love." The grin on your face lacks any of the warmth it had in the past few moments.

You tip your head back and giggle, raspy and brittle, "I heard a mer's song was, um, what did those bards call it? Ah, yes—A voice that is so alluring that men and women jump overboard in squadrons."

"Hauntingly beautiful, that's what the poets call you mermaids…" You hum, watching them slyly from your row boat while reclining back against the wood.

Gaze drifting down their body, your arms folded around your chest and your gaze turned half-lidded, lips curled up in a sensual, cat-like smirk. "…and I can see why. Haunted, I am."

Both of them go abruptly silent and you chuckle, staring at them through the wreaths of grey smoke that curled into fanciful hazy whirls from the foggy environment.

Floyd and Jade squirmed as they both felt the strong pull of their instincts, screaming at them to just drag you into the waters already.

Your conniving praises and silver tongue was starting to get to them. One more push and—

"Say…I've been meaning to ask," You murmur, and seem to take a moment to stare into their innermost souls.

"Can you sing for me…?"

Something snaps.

Floyd makes a low sound, somewhere between a trill and a growl, while Jade's eyes darken considerably. Beneath your piercing, ice-cold gaze, the twins felt their nerves prickle up like the flickering electric stings of a jellyfish.

This is a dangerous game you're playing.

"…You're quite the flatterer," Jade—ever so composed—is quick to snap out of it and smiles simply, tapping his talons along the wooden deck. "…I suppose I could grant you your wish. Though, there is to be an exchange for it."

"Hm? What's that, mate?" You looked up at your ship from your little boat, eyes darting to the windows of your chambers. "That ol' girl isn't new to the seas so there's quite a lot of stuff there. Maybe some of my treasures will catch your fancy—"

"No." Jade interrupts you, the shadow over his eyes returns. "…I do not wish for any treasure or gold. All I want is a kiss."

"A kiss?" You parroted, an eyebrow elevated and amused laughter peaking from your lips. "I have chests of golds and heaps of ruby-eyed jewelry; yet, all you want is a kiss, is that truly what you desire?"

"Yes."

"Nothin' more?"

Jade ponders and pauses for a while, before turning to face his brother. "Floyd, perhaps you want something as well?"

"I wanna kiss from pretty shrimpy too!" Floyd cooed, pursing his lips at you and imitating kissing sounds by hollowing his cheeks. His strong arms, taut with ripping muscle, are crossed over one other as it rests upon the rims of your boat.

"So, what do you say, Captain? Is it a deal~?" Floyd stretches out a hand expectantly.

And you take it.

"Deal." You smirk. "One kiss for each of you, in exchange for a song. Pirate's honor."

Not like the honor of a pirate was worth much anyways.

The melody lifting from Jade's lips was somewhat familiar to you, yet it was of a faraway nostalgia. You couldn’t remember where you'd last heard it, but it felt…right. He had a voice that was velvety smooth; thick, and deep like a dream.

"Upon one summer's morning / I carefully did stray," Jade sang, deep voice flowing off his lips in a sweet honeyed song—its melody lathering itself on your tongue. The saccharine taste of its imbricating rhythm obliterating every bit of skepticism you held towards them. "Down by the Walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor gay."

"My heart is pierced by Cupid / I disdain all glittering gold." Jade continued, tucking the long dark strand of his hair behind his ear—leaning his head atop the rickety rims of the boat's mossy wood. "There is nothing can console me / but my jolly sailor bold."

"Come all you pretty fair mers, whoever you may be / Who love a jolly sailor that ploughs the raging sea." Floyd hums along, lovingly tracing a hand up your arm. His voice was a lovely little thing; echoing deep throughout the air.

As expected, they sang beautifully, hauntingly; with an accent in a tongue native only to the sea. There was a mystical lull weaved into their voices—fitting to their titles as bewitching creatures of the sea.

"My heart is pierced by Cupid /I disdain all glittering gold." Jade stares straight ahead, his sapphire gaze alluringly fixed on you seated in front of him.

"There is nothing can console me…" Pushing himself up the wooden edge of your boat, the eel lures you over and you followed. "…but my jolly sailor bold."

As Jade's song came to its finality, he leaned in close and pressed a swift warm kiss atop your agape mouth, such tenderness in his affections—and that of heavily masked lust. The eel parted from you, nipping at your bottom lip and watching with unbridled delight as a flicker of pink hue glazed over your diluted eyes.

"Come in the water, shrimpy~" Floyd cooed at you, claws reaching out to trace against the curve of the ships side. "We don't bite~"

Songbound, you leaned in towards the two and plunged in.

You don’t think about holding your breath.

The water was ice-cold and it strikes at you like a venomous bite. Yet before you could sink, two strong hands grasp at your waist, keeping you afloat in spite of the rough rocks of the sea. Jade was cradling you close to his chest, his hold firm and uncompromising while his tail encircled and bound your legs together.

"Hello, shrimpy~" Crooning, Floyd moved to rest his wet cheek against your tangled hair, talons pushing past the fringes of your damp torn-up shawl to rest against your thighs.

The slippery pads of his fingers trailed up to your torso; Travelling from your hips, past your corset, all the way up to your chest. The eel toyed with the drawstrings of your poet shirt before grasping it tight and yanking you forward.

"You're so pretty~" Floyd trailed his other hand up your neck, sharp talons feathering over your pulse dangerously. The eel craned his head down to meet you eye to eye.

"I could just eat you up." The silky strands of his lashes fluttered against his lidded gaze as he leaned in close, breath fanning across your burning cheeks. Floyd pulled you into a deep kiss, loving the way you groaned against his mouth.

Chuckling against your lips, Floyd tightened his hold on your neck—his claws almost breaking skin, "You like that, shrimpy?"

You return the kiss, dazedly smiling against his lips before pulling away, lungs in desperate need of oxygen.

Floyd could see drops of water resting atop your swollen lips, and as your tongue darts out to wipe them, a fiery desire ignites in the deep curves and crooks of his heart. It didn't take long before he was diving in once more, lips pressing against the side of your neck.

While his brother was fixated on marking your skin, Jade hugged you from behind—affectionately cuddling into your hair.

The eel ran his hand up your throat and grasps your jaw with webbed hands to tilt your head backwards. He presses his lips against yours, the thick muscle of his tongue prying your mouth open before it darted in.

Floyd glides away from your form after a few minutes, leaving your neck sufficiently bitten and marked. He grinned excitedly and took your hands in his webbed ones, whisking you away from Jade.

You couldn't help but notice how he was gently dragging you away from the rowboat. "Say, shrimpy~ You ever wondered what it's like to swim under the sea?"

A flash of clarity hits you, shattering the enchanting spell that both mermen had cast upon your heart. You sensed danger as both eels started to close in, grinning ominously which revealed their fangs—long and dripping with thirst.

It seems that your fun little swim was over.

"I can't say I've ever experienced the pleasures of drowning—" you muttered. "And I don't intend to do so very soon."

The texture of their tails may appear solid and rough, but when you kick your legs at Floyd's, you immediately discover how the skin is supple when touched.

The sharp end of your worn boots cut at his silky luminescent skin, dragging along the scales of his flesh and leaving a deep cut in its wake. A small trickle of blue blood spreads into the waters and the eel hisses, darting away from you.

You try to swim away, but something—or rather, someone—gets in your way.

"My my, leaving so soon, pearl?" Jade quips, grin all-to-sharp.

In hindsight, it was foolish to interact with two mermen you hardly knew, especially ones who were taut with sharp teeth and firm muscles. Any pirate with half a mind would know to turn the other way and flee if these two approached them.

The mer both advanced to surround you, a mysterious glimmer swimming behind the haze of their duo-colored eyes.

A startling epiphany rushes over you.

As slippery as they might be, there’s no hiding the lethal sheen of pink in their eyes—especially not from you, a pirate who’s spent a fair number of their days hauling the cold dead bodies of lovesick sailors away from their watery graves.

These two weren't your run-of-the-mill mermen, no. You have heard about them before—in tales and legends.

Mermaids. Vampires of the sea. Water nymphs. Naiads. Sirens.

Many names, yet they are all the same.

A sighting like this is not unusual. This species of mer is mostly found in the deepest, darkest sections of the ocean, and they only come up to hunt at night.

It seems that you've walked right into their trap. Sailors were their easiest prey.

"Ah." You grit your teeth, a low, breathy snarl slipping past your swollen lips. "I should've known."

There’s a warm yet strong pressure against your shoulders and arms; followed by an odd feeling of heaviness as you were suddenly propelled down the water's surface. Webbed hands keep you pinned beneath the waves and you're suddenly all-too-aware of your body's exhaustion; of the salty liquid flowing past your tongue and the scorching gurgle that ignites your lungs as water fills it.

There's a ruckus around you, and you can barely hear Jade's voice, who was eerily calm in the midst of your murder. A bottle is then abruptly forced into your mouth, the potion within it spilling down your throat and leaving you disoriented.

It appears that today is the day that the monotony in your life finally ends. The pull of unconsciousness becomes too strong to resist, and the world darkens.

TO BE CONTINUED...?

—TAGLIST:

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psychedelic-ink · 8 months

Text

𝐂𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘.

DAY SIX OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: slasher au (still takes place in the tlou'verse) + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, soft dark fic, horror, murder mystery

summary: bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in jackson. as the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.

word count: 10k (i don't know what happened)

warnings: dubcon at the end, knife kink, descriptive canon typical violence, blood & mild gore, grief and death, an unpleasant guy hitting on you, murder, face-sitting, throat-fucking, mutual oral sex (69), dirty talk, possessive!joel, exhibitionism (tommy watches very briefly, he also kisses you in a platonic way), sex in the woods, piv, Joel is actually quite nice if you exclude the murders, mild breeding kink, size kink, little bit of blood kink

a/n: the owl mask joel wears in this to hide who he is is inspired by @softlyspector's post about the tawny owl mug joel uses in tlou part 2 which I still get sad if I think about it for too long 😭

Bodies have been dropping dead all around you long before the outbreak.

Maybe not in the everyone-you-know-is-getting-infected-and-killing-people type of way, but more so in a death-never-felt-like-a-stranger-to-you sort of way. Yet, you still don’t know how to deal with death. Your grief is as violent as a butterfly flapping its wings; the strength of it non-existent but you never know where, or when, it’ll cause a storm.

First, it was your grade school teacher. You didn’t have a particularly strong bond with her but you did like her. You still remember how your friend's voice quaked as she gave you the news on a landline. You couldn’t believe it and had to accuse her of making a joke, even though you knew she would never joke about something like this. Then your dad took the phone from you and you just assumed your friend's mom did the same. The next week, when you went back to school and the funeral was now behind all the children in the classroom, the custodian cut the last tablecloth your teacher had used for her desk and gave a piece to each and every one of you. It was a vibrant orange cloth with daisies scattered around – ugly, but you still cherished it.

Then it was your pets, grandparents – there was also the time when your pet-crazed neighbor adopted another smaller dog while she still had two untrained, over-energized dogs, and the two twins ripped the other dog apart. You had seen the carnage. By some miracle, that small, fluffy dog named Sugar was still breathing, alive. You had held a blood bag over the dog's head, hoping that the small animal wouldn't die.

She didn’t die that day, but it sure as hell left a scar on you.

As a kid, you never seemed to quite grasp the ways of grieving. You didn’t get angry. You didn’t cry. You just. . thought about it. However, the emotions came differently when you became an adult. Now when someone close to you died, you felt it more violently, oddly enough you still fought against the tears and only cried when you were alone.

On Outbreak Day, you lost everything.

Your family, your friends—your life, now it was all about survival, but survival towards what, you didn’t know. You killed for it, fought for it. Yet every move you made felt automatic like you were wired to at least try and survive — to wait it out and not be left behind when civilization rebuilt itself once more.

You made some friends along the way and lost some friends too. You locked their faces and their memories in your heart, only unlocking the box when you were truly and utterly alone.

Then you found Jackson.

And you met Joel and Tommy Miller.

Your official title is scavenger but you much prefer to label yourself as an explorer instead.

You’ve adapted to your quite well life at Jackson. You go beyond the borders, sometimes alone and sometimes with other fellow explorers, and gather supplies or try to pinpoint other locations threats might be lurking in. You’re about to go on another trip, this one shorter than your regular one to two-week expeditions, but before heading out you decide to stop by the only bakery in Jackson named The Last Crumb—previously named The Cordyceps Crumb but Maria decided it was in bad taste. You, on the other hand, had found it funny and topical.

As you patiently wait in line, your camping bag waiting for you outside the bakery, someone bumps into you from behind, then never moves back.

You turn with a raised eyebrow, not enjoying the close proximity, “Excuse you,” you snap. The man looks at you with a hint of mischief in his eyes, you roll your eyes when you recognize the face. “Move back a beat Tucker, I’m not in the mood this morning.”

“Someone didn’t get her beauty sleep,” he grins but moves away regardless. “Want me to come with you this time? Sweet thing like you alone out there? It’s ain’t right.”

“You can barely aim. Why would I want someone that’s most likely to get me killed around me?”

“I think you’ll find my company to be plenty entertaining.”

You’re about to gag when the bell of the bakery chimes, the sharp sound echoing through the wooden walls. Your face must've shown immense signs of relief because Tucker turns around to see who you're looking at. His instant frown makes you want to laugh and chuck him between the two men you’d describe as a wolf den.

“Well, if it ain’t the Miller brothers,” Tucker tuts, attempting to give one of them a friendly pat on the shoulder. He stops midway when Joel’s gaze flits between you and him, his glare hard enough to cut diamonds.

So he ends up slapping Tommy’s shoulder instead, which isn’t the best thing since you know the younger Miller hates Tucker. But among the brothers, he’s probably the one with less probability of getting your hand bitten off.

“Mornin’ Tucker,” Tommy answers, forcing a smile.

Joel is less friendly, his words directed at you, “Is this dumbass botherin’ you again?”

“I wouldn't exactly call a greeting among friends “botherin’,” Tucker says. “We’re just catchin’ up, no need to get your panties in a bunch Miller.”

“God, you’re one word away from ruining my morning,” you hiss, glaring at the unpleasant man. “And we’re not friends.”

His brows furrow, eyes going hard with an ugly snarl accompanying them, you feel braver when Tommy and Joel are around so you hold his gaze, not flinching away.

Tommy is the one to ease the tension. He lays a hand on Tucker’s shoulder and squeezes, drawing the man’s attention away from you. “I’ll get you what you want a’right Tucker? It’s on me. Just go wait outside.”

“But—”

“Outside, Tuck,” Tommy repeats and you shudder at his tone.

Tucker’s shoulders drop, defeated, “Fine, get me a raisin bagel.”

He doesn’t wait for Tommy’s response and heads out the bakery. You finally release the breath you’ve been holding, your muscles relaxing along with the exhaled breath. Joel is by your side in the blink of an eye, his broad shoulder brushing yours providing comfort.

“You sure you’re a’right?” he asks, gently curling fingers under your chin. “The prick didn’t do anythin’?”

“Nah, nothing. He’s all bark but no bite. He asked if he wanted to join me today as if that buffoon wouldn’t get me killed.” you shrug, men being assholes was nothing new to you. You’re just glad that in Jackson it seems that there are more good apples than rotten ones. “Too bad even paradise comes with drawbacks.”

Joel snorts as Tommy cuts in, “Maria would be thrilled if she heard you calling it paradise.”

“What are you smiling at? You think you can find anywhere better?” You playfully nudge Joel with your elbow. “You know there’s nothing but hell out there.”

“I do, I just think callin’ here a paradise is a bit of a stretch is all.”

The line moves and the three of you are finally at the counter, “You’re just a grump,” you tease Joel before turning your gaze to Poppy, the barista who knows everything about everyone. “Hey there, Poppy, the usual please.”

“And a damn raisin bagel,” Tommy adds.

“Well, isn’t it my favorite trio,” Poppy grins. “I’ll get all that ready for you in a second,” she locks her blue eyes on you and leans closer, you mimic her by instinct. “By the way have you heard of Ian? He wound up dead right outside the chopping block, an axe right through his chest.”

You frown, “Good morning to you too, Poppy. Jesus Christ.”

“I’ll confess I didn’t love the guy but isn’t it worrying that there’s a killer among us?” she murmurs while stuffing the goodies in paper bags. “Be careful out there.”

“Well, if the culprit is here I think I might be safer out there,” you say and turn to Tommy. “Does Maria know?”

“Of course, she does,” when you part your lips to say more, he lifts a finger and shoots you a crooked smile. “It’s confidential.”

“Aw man, can’t you just tell us who she thinks it is?” Poppy asks, Tommy shakes his head and she lets out a dramatic sigh, “I miss my murder mystery books.”

“I’ll try to find you something while I’m out,” you say, ignoring the way your heart began to race. Jackson is still a small town, it’s jarring to think someone might be out there, looking for their next target. “Though I think we could all do with a little less murder.”

You hadn’t expected your voice to crack but your tone had betrayed you. Poppy extends you the bag of goods and a latte, as you reach out you feel Joel’s hand on your waist. His lips touch your ear. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m sure whoever it is is only goin’ after those who deserve it.”

You lock your eyes with him, blinking heavily at the weight of his words. His voice had dropped, nothing but gravel as he whispered the words into your ear. A cold sensation slithers down your spine, chilling you to your core and making your throat tighten.

His hand never leaves your waist as the three of you head out, and after a while, that chill slowly dissolves into a pleasurable warmth.

You find solace in the woods. You love Jackson, but being in the woods away from everyone and everything makes you feel comforted. The first time you went scavenging, there was a slight fear in your movements; no matter how good your aim was, any kind of infected was difficult to kill.

But now you walk with ease. There isn’t an ounce of worry in your bones. The trees rustle happily and the smell of flowers and pine fills your nostrils. You can feel your lungs rejuvenating with every breath. Trickles of orange sunlight pour from the gaps of the trees. The sun sets, meaning you need to set up camp soon.

While unpacking, you think of this morning. How Joel and Tommy stepped in when Tucker started bothering you. Honestly, you didn’t need their protection; Tucker is just one of those men who think they might have a shot if they bother you enough times. Still, it was nice to be claimed in a way, to be accepted into a family and cared for.

Your breath hitches slightly. Tommy, you see as a close friend, a brother perhaps, but Joel... Joel is another thing. Just thinking about him is enough to start a wildfire between your legs. You wish you were brave enough to do something about it, though. Whenever you two patrol together or stay awake late at night drinking, you always chicken out in the end. It doesn’t matter how his hands linger on your thighs or his eyes drop to your lips; you're just never convinced that the Joel Miller would be interested in you beyond a friend.

An unease starts to settle in the pit of your stomach. As the air grows colder with the approaching night, your skin prickles and you feel the phantom sensation of claws dragging down your back. You set the tent as quickly as you can, your eyes darting around the depths of the forest. Briefly, you bend over to adjust the ropes.

A breath warm and damp ghosts the back of your neck and you jump, gun in hand as you turn around only to find—

Nothing.

And no one.

Your heart is hammering in your chest, adrenaline pumping in your veins, a drop of sweat trickling down your forehead. You've never had a trigger finger, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to just shoot every shadow you see.

“Dammit Poppy,” you mutter, annoyed that she gave you the brutal knowledge of Ian’s death right before you were heading out. Guilt stings at your heart. Ian was an asshole for sure, and you don’t exactly feel bad that he’s gone, but still, it was an eerie thought that someone had murdered him so violently. It had to be personal.

Some part of you wishes Joel was here, or even Tucker, just another human being to tell you you’re just seeing things.

You take a deep inhale and follow it up with a long exhale. You’re fine. There’s no one here.

You give your surroundings one last suspicious look before going back to setting the tent.

No matter how hard you try you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you amongst the shadows.

Joel hears crickets and owls. The night had always been his friend since the outbreak. He had become a violent man with an equally violent heart. He waits in the shadows, watching. Laughter and playful shouts echo from the bar, and soon the door swings open; the man he's been waiting for crawls out of the establishment, shit-faced. The drunk man shouts his farewells and staggers toward his home.

Joel follows, his mask heating up the skin that lays underneath. His fingers itch with the need to wring that asshole's neck. One by one, he had been cleaning Jackson for the better. His tendencies subdued while also doing some good. Ian was one of those people who deserved it and Joel had enjoyed the chase, the pleas, he especially enjoyed the way he tripped and cried right before he sunk the blade of the axe through Ian’s chest.

Tucker trips, making Joel want to laugh. The idiot might not even realize he’s being hunted. Joel looks around, they are far enough for the chase to begin. Tucker continues to slip and fall as he attempts to get up. Taking the opportunity, Joel walks towards him with quick steps, making sure the first thing the asshole sees is his mask.

Tucker notices him before he gets up, his hands bracing the ground, his eyes go wide, “What the fuck?”

Joel only tilts his head. He sees the trembles rolling down the other man’s body, he relishes in his fear.

“Look man, I don’t want any trouble, whoever the fuck you are so. . . scram.”

Joel’s eyes dart to his hand on the dirt, without a second thought he lifts his foot and curb stomps Tucker’s hand. Then he kicks the side of his face, an audible crunch echoing before his scream could. The man whimpers and falls back in his attempt to crawl away. He holds his jaw, blood streaming down his broken nose.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

He steps closer and watches as Tucker’s eyes bug out. He’s too drunk to properly run away or even scream. Such an easy target. He grips the other’s hair and lifts him to his feet, he can feel the strands starting to rip from his scalp one by one, Tucker’s face twisting in pain. “Your worst fuckin’ nightmare,” Joel answers eerily calm. It doesn’t matter if Tucker recognizes him. He’d be dead soon enough anyway.

“P-Please,” he begs, realizing the same thing. “I’ll do whatever you want promise. I don’t want to die.”

Joel grunts, not dignifying his pleas with an answer. Lifting his other hand, his knuckles connect to Tucker’s face with a loud crunch, body flying to the ground headfirst.

He pulls out his knife and drops down, ignoring the ache in his knees, he grabs Tucker’s arm and aligns the sharp blade against his wrist. Tucker notices, his face going pale as a ghost. “D-Don’t—”

Joel doesn’t bat an eye as blood spurts violently over his clothes and the dirt. Drops of crimson seeping into the fabric. The knife cuts through the flesh like butter, severing hand from bone. His hand clamps over Tucker’s mouth. Joel smiles as his screams bounce off of the palm of his hand.

You come back to Jackson hand empty and earlier than intended. You were too much at unease, and being so jarred wasn’t the best while scavenging for supplies alone. During your trip, you did end up scribbling something for Poppy. It wasn’t finished but you hoped she would enjoy the first draft of the first chapter. It was mostly descriptions of what you felt, a cat-and-mouse game between two people who had bumped into each other accidentally.

While heading into Jackson, you notice a crowd in the distance. You promptly get off your horse and walk with haste. You recognize Joel and Tommy easily, both brothers standing on each end of the crowd like gates keeping a herd of sheep in check. Ellie is standing right next to Joel, lifting herself on her toes to see; Joel is holding her back by gripping the cap of her hood.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

Joel turns to you, his eyebrows raising when notices it’s you and not some random person he has to ignore, “You’re back,” he says. A statement rather than a question.

“Yeah, wasn’t feeling that well,” you shrug him off. “So what happened?”

His eyes turn to steel, his jaw locking in place. Before you can ask again, he gestures for you to move up the crowd with a tilt of his head.

“Lucky,” you hear Ellie murmur as you walk ahead, gently pushing those who were looking at the sight with concern. With every step you take, the murmur of the crowd fades into the background, becoming nothing more than white noise. Maria is addressing the crowd, you think, though you're not entirely sure. The scent of blood is thick in the air, disorienting you as you get closer.

Your eyes go wide, the earth slips from beneath you but your expression remains emotionless.

It’s Tucker.

You feel as if you’re standing alone. As if you’re the only one taking in the sight of absolute horror and gore. Tucker is lying in a pile of his own blood face first, his eyes are open and lifeless, his one hand is outstretched like he’s about to crawl away.

His right hand, however, is chopped off.

It’s not even a clean-cut. The edges of his flesh are jagged and crooked, his blood-caked where his hand should be. Whoever did this cut it so it would hurt, so he would suffer tremendously.

You can’t help but gasp, covering your mouth with your right hand. You begin to shake, confusion churning in your stomach as bile coats your tongue. He’s dead. Just like Ian.

When Maria’s eyes find your own, she narrows her gaze, a small warning for you to keep it together. You can’t though. How could you? Tucker was alive and kicking a couple of days ago, just being his annoying self around Jackson.

“Calm down,” you hear Joel mutter into your ear. You shiver at the brush of his lips. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Safe. You want to laugh. You don’t even know what that word means anymore.

Joel’s mouth moves over the shell of your ear, “He was a nuisance. Don’t feel bad now that he’s dead.”

“I didn’t want him to die,” you hiss back. “And knowing there’s a serial killer out there doesn’t exactly make me feel safe.”

Despite your half-angry tone, you find yourself leaning into Joel’s presence. Your shoulder presses into his broad chest, and without missing a beat he wraps his arms around your shaking frame. Relief comes in the form of warmth spreading along your chest, tingles forming at the tips of your fingers and toes. The voices of the crowd gradually come back but you only hear one of the many questions.

“What do you think the message means?”

Confusion crosses your face, brows furrowing as you try to make sense of it. Joel makes a choked-out sound that could’ve easily been taken as an amused chuckle.

Then your eyes drop to Tucker’s outstretched hand and his dying message written in blood.

O W L

A week had passed since Tucker’s death.

You've been thinking about both murders relentlessly, trying to piece together everything that you know so far. During this time, you're grateful for Poppy, who comes by almost every night to help you try to solve the case. That's been your sole focus for the past few weeks; you haven't been scavenging since you spooked yourself so badly that you returned early, only to find Tucker dead.

Some part of you thinks that the eeriness you felt that day was a sign of what was about to happen. It's also an odd coincidence that he ended up dead the same night he harassed you in the morning. However, there are no forensic investigators in Jackson, so it’s almost impossible to determine the exact time of death. That fact alone makes you anxious. It only means that whoever is killing everyone has nothing to worry about because even if they leave traces, who’s going to know?

In order to keep your nerves in check you end up writing a lot. You haven’t shown any of it to Poppy yet but you’re excited. You never thought writing a thriller would be the perfect way to escape the horrors of your actual life. At least in your stories, you have control.

You also visit Joel and vice versa.

Something had shifted the day he held you as you both gazed upon Tucker’s lifeless body. Maybe it was just you who felt bolder since death was once again right around the corner — or maybe Joel just felt more protective now, wanting to check on you as much as he could.

“You’re really writin’ a whole ass novel?” he asks, pouring you a glass of scotch. You still can’t get over the fact that it nearly tasted identical to the actual stuff. Jackson is truly a miracle; at least when bodies aren’t dropping left and write.

Ellie’s at a sleepover, which means you and Joel have the whole house to yourselves. With everything going on you’d expect your libido to diminish a bit but it’s as strong as ever, ready to go.

You smile as he places the glass in front of you, “Yeah,” you say, picking up the glass and heading toward the living room. “I couldn’t find Poppy anything to read and it helps me relax.”

“Relax, how?” he asks, taking a seat next to you. The couch dips with his weight, and heat crawls up from your chest to your neck when his knee brushes against yours.

“Well, it’s a horror thing. Horror slash mystery? I don’t know—whatever it is, it’s nice to have an outlet to escape what’s been happening lately.”

“So to escape brutal murders you write more brutal murders?”

You chuckle at the way his eyebrows raise, eyes going wide, “I don’t really focus that much on the gore. It’s more psychological, my sweet brute. Things don’t need to have blood to be scary.”

His grin is wide and instant, dark eyes lighting up with amusement, “What did you just call me?”

“I. . .” Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, suddenly realizing what you’d said.

“What cat got your tongue?” he teases. Joel leans closer, fingers dancing along the curve of your shoulder. You can feel the gravel in his voice. “You just called me yours, sweetheart. Does that jog your memory?”

“I also called you brute,” you quip back immediately, cheeks aflame. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Don’t it?” his palm now presses fully into your shoulder, keeping you in place in case you might run. Joel tilts his head slightly, the plush of his lips only an inch away. “I like you callin’ me that,” the pink of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “Say it again.”

“S-Say what?”

A small chuckle parts his lips, oddly enough it almost feels like his patience is wearing thin. He comes closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours. “That I’m yours,” he clarifies. “Been waitin’ to hear those words come from your mouth since I met you.”

“You’re mine,” you whisper against his lips, eyelids fluttering but not quite closing. With the confession, you feel the brush of Joel’s lips on yours. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth. You part for him with a moan, and taking the opportunity, he slides inside, tasting every inch of you.

His lips taste and feel like the forests you wander off to; it soothes you, calms your nerves, and has the taste of home. They’re chapped from the sun, yet soft. You can’t have enough of him, if he’d offered, you’d gladly kiss him forever.

Joel parts with a shaky breath, his chest heaving, “And you’re mine,” he groans, his eyes dark with arousal. It’s an involuntary action but your eyes drop to the front of his pants where you see the thick outline of his cock.

Your mouth goes dry, yet you manage to speak anyway, “Are words all you’ve been waiting for?” It’s bold, you’re highly aware, but you can’t help it when he’s this close. His scent suffocating, pulling you to him like a moth to a flame.

He stares at you silently. His thumb touches your bottom lip, slightly tugging it down. He’s not smiling anymore, only observing.

“No,” Joel answers slowly. He leans towards your ears, the thick hairs above his lips tickling your skin. “I’ve also been waitin’ to feel that velvet tongue on my cock, honey. And to feel how tight your throat gets when you take every inch of me.”

Joel blows a puff of air, it caresses your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brings your hand to the front of his pants, dragging your palm up and down his length. You shudder. The heat of it seeps into your palm despite the thick fabric of his jeans, you lick your lips absentmindedly. “This is all for you sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Joel. . .” your eyes roll back when he kisses your neck, open-mouthed kisses laid upon your skin like a gift. Your nipples tighten and if you look down right now, you know you’ll see them peeking through your shirt.

He reads your thoughts, eyes moving down before meeting your gaze again. “Didn’t know you walked around without a bra, sunshine.”

“I only go braless when I’m comfortable,” you answer. Joel cups your breasts roughly, kneading the flesh, he simultaneously sucks on your neck, teeth nipping the sensitive skin. “Oh god,” the fabric of your panties grows damp and you clench your thighs together.

“Not god,” he says sharply, sinking his teeth into you. “Joel.”

“Joel,” you moan and arch your back, filling more of yourself into his palm. You squeeze his cock, relishing in the way he makes a strangled sound. “I want to suck you off, Joel.”

“Be my guest.”

You push him until he’s lying on the couch. You’re about to unbutton his jeans but he stops you.

“Turn around,” he says.

“What?”

His wide grin nearly stops your heart, “Want to taste that sweet pussy, sunshine. Strip down and take a seat.”

“On—On your face?”

“Where else?”

You’re too embarrassed to speak, tongue suddenly too big in your mouth. Quickly, and a bit clumsily, you strip down and turn before straddling his chest. You don’t need to touch yourself to know that you’re soaked.

You swallow, “I’ve never done this before.”

His hands come up to cradle your hips, urging you to move back towards his face. You feel the blunt sting of his nails.

“That’s alright,” he mutters. “I won’t let you fall if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m more worried about how I’m gonna move, or accidentally suffocating you.”

“What a noble way it would be to go.”

“Joel!” you laugh, playfully smacking his thigh. He answers by giving your hips another squeeze, you surrender and move back until you’re hovering over his face. Your hand planted firmly over his hip bones, you lower yourself. You shudder as his tongue licks a stripe between your folds. He moans into your cunt, pulling you flush against his face.

Meanwhile, you finally unzip his pants and pull his cock out, the heft of it bumping against your nose and lips. You drip at the smell of him and swear he smiles as he sucks on your aching clit, short-circuiting your brain with arousal. His cock throbs in your palm, a drop of precome glistening at the tip. Your mouth watering, you lean forward and clean him off. Another groan echoes within his chest and he thrusts forward, the tip of his cock kissing your lips.

Eyes fluttering closed, you suck on the bulbous head and force yourself to go down until he hits the back of your throat. You wrap a hand around the base, stroking where you can’t fit, and hallow your cheeks.

“Come on, sunshine. You can take me,” he rasps. “You’re mine, aren’t you? That mouth is meant to take me.”

Without waiting for an answer, Joel pushes his tongue inside, your walls clenching around the wet muscle—you let out a loud gasp and grind down, then you feel the sting of his palm against your ass, pain blossoming from where he smacked.

Your throat rattles with a moan and Joel takes the opportunity to drive forward, your eyes go wide as you feel the length of him sliding down your throat, cutting the air from your lungs.

“Oh, fuck—” he moans unabashedly, the sounds sending a pleasurable tingle down your spine despite the strain on your throat. “That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Fuck, fuck—”

Your throat tightens around him, your lungs starting to burn. His hand caresses both sides of your ass, the abrupt pain of the smack from before subduing, “Relax,” he says, swirling his tongue around your clit. “Breathe through your nose. Just a bit more. . .”

Your nails bite into his thighs as you attempt to follow instructions. You relax your throat and slowly begin to breathe from your nose. It’s still difficult, but your lungs rejoice in the minimal amount of air that comes through. You make a mess of him. Saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth and down his length.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he murmurs. “Gonna fuck that pretty throat now and make this pussy come, understood?”

Eyes tearing up, you nod. From the way your stomach convulses, you know that you’re close, your skin tight over your trembling muscles. The nod is all that Joel needs from you. Holding you in place, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself completely down your throat while flicking his tongue against your clit. You scream around him, eyes rolling back as he continues to devour you and take you apart at the same time. He licks you with fat strokes of his tongue, a hint of teeth scraping your folds here and there as he fucks your throat with shallow thrusts.

You’re limp against his broad body, allowing him to use you as he pleases while all you can do is hang on for the ride. Pleasure licks the base of your spine, a searing heat caressing your skin while Joel continues to build you up only for you to fall spectacularly. Your lips start to ache, your throat squeezing around him whenever he snaps his hips forward—

And all hell finally breaks loose.

You come undone with a devastating cry only for it to be muffled by his cock going down your throat. You gush around his tongue, soaking his facial hair and mouth, Joel is underrated, licking and sucking until you’re shaking above him, every bit of tension draining from your body.

Joel comes shortly after, his hand slides from your waist and he manages to reach out in order to hold your head down. You don’t have a choice but to swallow as he spills down your throat, thick spurts of come going down while he shudders and pushes even deeper.

There’s so much of it, cock twitching and throbbing in your mouth until your mouth sucks him dry. You’re lightheaded from the lack of air; you find that it adds to the pleasure that’s buzzing in your veins, your cunt still pulsing with the heft of him still buried in your lips.

He pulls out with a satisfied groan and you manage to scoot down so you’re straddling his chest instead of head. Joel caresses your back, the gentle repeated motion sending tingles down your spine.

“That’s was fuckin’ amazin’,” he says, voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you answer sounding meek. “I think I need some water though.”

You get off, legs still shaking, but he grabs your hand, halting your movement. “Let me get it for you,” he says, sitting up.

“I’m already up,” you smile as his brows furrow with worry, the expression warming your heart. You quickly bend down to kiss him and he’s quick to lick himself into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. “I’ll be right back.”

You have no idea how you’re standing while feeling like jello but you manage to get yourself all the way to the fridge. You smile at the coolness touching your warmed skin when you open the door. Scanning the interior, you thoughtlessly rub at your throat in an attempt to soothe the ache a little. You grab the pitcher of cold water and notice a bit of apple pie left over.

“Hey, Joel?” you call out. He hums in acknowledgment. “Can I have a slice of pie?”

His humored chuckle follows through, “You can eat the whole damn thing after what you’ve done,” you smile and take the desert out. “Can you bring me a slice too?” he adds.

You smile and place the pie on the counter. The leftover is already two slices give or take so you decide to just take two forks with you instead of dirting a plate. Looking through the drawers, you try to remember which one is the cutlery drawer.

On your second try you find something else.

Something that makes your eyes go wide and heart throb painfully.

Your hands shaking, you pick up the owl mask from the drawer. The surface is smooth, and the color of it a light shade of brown just like a tawny owl. All the pleasant tingles fade away, the buzz of pleasure in your veins replaced by fear and adrenaline.

Heading back to the living room, you show the mask to Joel.

“What’s this?” you ask, your voice betraying your sudden outburst of fear.

Joel looks up, eyes flitting between you and the owl mask. He raises a brow, his confusion evident across his face. “It’s a mask, sweetheart.”

“No no, I know it’s a mask,” you answer, breathless. “But why do you have it?”

“It’s Ellie’s,” he stands up, his pants still unbuttoned but pulled up. You fight the urge to step away, fight the urge to flinch when he touches your cheek. “They were makin’ Halloween masks last year in school. I didn’t even realize we still had it.”

“Really?” you ask and he nods.

“Really,” Joel claims your lips in a chaste kiss, thumb stroking lines up and down your cheek. His hand slithers down your arm to your wrist and when he squeezes, you drop the mask. “Why?” he breathes into you. “Is this about the damn thing Tucker wrote down?”

You remain silent and he pulls away, dark eyes boring into yours.

“You need to relax, sweetheart,” he mumbles. “Why don’t you just allow yourself to enjoy this? You deserve to be happy.”

Your eyes widen with surprise, his words crashing into you, “I. . . Do I do that? Really?”

“It’s normal, darlin’,” he answers. “I’m pretty sure we all have survivor’s guilt.”

You let out a shaky exhale. He’s right. You were just feeling guilty of being alive when so many had died. Joel smiles back and traces the curve of yours with his fingers. “There’s that smile that I adore,” he guides you towards the kitchen. “Now let’s go eat some pie.”

No matter what though, you can’t help but turn back to look at the owl mask one last time as it lays lifelessly on the floor.

“So, tell me about this book you’re writin’?”

You let out a low laugh, “I already told you about it. What more do you wanna know?”

You stare at Joel’s back as he takes the lead, he’d decided to join you in your explorations ever since you told him how nervous you had gotten the last time. You had appreciated the gesture but still felt a tad anxious around him ever since you found that damn owl mask—

A branch snaps into two under your steps and he turns, extending his hand to you. With a smile you allow him to lace his fingers within yours, your stomach jumping a little as he tugs you close so the two of you are walking side by side instead.

“If memory serves me right we got distracted when you told me about it,” he says with that southern drawl of his. “So tell me again what it’s about.”

“Okay okay,” you smile, squeezing his hand twice. “It’s all a big mess now but the premise is that there’s this guy obsessed with this woman and he stalks her and no matter what she does, she always feels like there’s someone watching.”

Joel looks ahead, “Sounds familiar. Isn’t that how you felt last time you were out here?”

“Yeah, and it’s when I started writing it.”

“So do these two people know each other?” his tone drops, his fingers suddenly feeling like barbed wire within your hand. You swallow. “I mean in their regular lives, does the woman know that he’s the one stalkin’ her?”

You roll your shoulders, a weak attempt to shrug off the eeriness that you feel.

“Exactly. I think that just makes the whole thing creepier. He’s just a normal guy, even a friend, but he’s also the one among the shadows.”

“Interestin’,” he murmurs. “You think that’s happenin’ to you?”

“I don’t think there’s someone stalking me, if that’s what you’re asking,” you utter every word hastily, your pulse quickening under your skin.

His lips curl in a half smile, “That’s good,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you to be laying awake thinking about what might lingerin’ on the other side of the window.”

“I think I’m more likely to stay awake thinking about infected,” you say with a soft laugh. “But yeah, it’s all fiction. That day I probably just got scared because of what Poppy said about Ian.”

“Probably,” Joel trails off, his steps slowing. “How do you think it’s gonna end?”

“W-What?”

He stops and so does your heart. At least you think it does.

Joel faces you fully, his presence towering, he grips your shoulders and pushes you back until the air is knocked from your lungs by a tree right behind you. Your eyes go wide. He leans in, breath tickling your lips.

“How do you think your book is gonna end, sweetheart?” he asks again, eyes gleaming with something dark. “Is the guy gonna get the girl?”

“I—I don’t know.”

All you can think about is the owl mask and how it would perfectly fit his face. He cocks his head and taking a step closer, he slips a leg between your thighs. Slick gathers at your underwear—he feels the fabric dampening on his leg and grins.

“Fear turns you on doesn’t it?” he purrs. “Wicked thing.”

Relief drowns your senses. So that’s why he got all weird suddenly, he’s just teasing you. With a laugh, your head falls back against the tree trunk, “Jesus Joel, you scared the shit out of me.”

“It ain’t my fault,” he says, nipping at your chin. “You’re easy to scare.”

“Well, two brutal unsolvable murders will do that to a girl.”

Joel lets go and pulls away, smiling as he shakes his head, “What’s it gonna take for you to believe I had nothin’ to do with those? Even in death, Tucker causes nothin’ but fuckin’ trouble for me.”

“You don’t need to do anything, I’m sorry,” you pull him back, relishing in the way his strong arms wrap around your frame. “I’ll stop being such a chicken, promise. I’m still a bit jittery that’s all.”

“I forgive you,” he says against your lips, kissing you quickly before pulling you away from the thick trunk of the tree. “Now let’s find a place to settle down for the night.”

When you two return to Jackson three days later, the first thing you notice is the crowd. Your stomach drops at the familiar sight and instinctively you reach out to Joel, lacing your fingers together. He squeezes your hand two times.

The last thing you should be feeling is relief that now it’s not possible for Joel to be the one killing all those people but alas, that’s all you feel. Relief and love.

The trade fair sprawls before you. Stalls with makeshift awnings, tattered banners, and worn tarps create a patchwork quilt of colors, beneath which a diverse array of goods is proudly displayed. The air is thick with the scent of freshly baked bread, the tang of cured leather, and the earthy aroma of herbs. Laughter, chatter, and the occasional clinking of metal form a lively symphony, a chorus of life that drowns out the ever-present background hum of death and infection.

You’ve always enjoyed the time of the trade fair. People move like busy ants, weaving between the stalls. Children, their cheeks dusted with earth, dart through the crowd, their carefree laughter that should be comforting doing the opposite. Since Tina’s death— she was one of the council members— you had been sleeping at Joel’s. Neither he nor Ellie seemed to mind you staying there.

The purpose of the fair is to exchange goods – to exchange, to connect, to share stories of survival.

Your eyes scan the crowd for Joel's familiar silhouette. He and Ellie had headed out before you since you wanted a change of clothes. Just as your gaze begins to falter, a voice reaches your ears. "Hey!" It's Poppy, she waves you over.

You navigate your way through the bustling stalls until you stand before Poppy. She's leaning against a rough-hewn post, a glint of excitement in her eyes.

“Hey, Poppy,” you greet her with a smile. “I’m looking for Joel, or Ellie, have you seen either of them?”

“Well, Ellie is with Dina, hanging out,” She points to the forest that skirts the settlement. "I saw him heading that way not too long ago."

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you later then,” Waving her off, you head after Joel.

The trees are a bit more scarce here, there’s more room between them. The forest opens up, revealing a sprawling expanse that stretches as far as the eye can see. It's a stark contrast to the dense woods you often travel to, where the trees stand like guardians, their branches interlocking in a tapestry of shadow and light. Here, the gaps between the trees create pockets of sunlight that dapple the forest floor.

However, the expanses between trees can be deceiving, and without the markers and familiarity of the well-trodden paths closer to home, it's easy to lose your way.

For some reason instead of calling out for Joel, you decide to wander aimlessly. You’re not sure why. You don’t come to this side of Jackson often enough to feel comfortable with your surroundings and shouting his name would definitely be easier than walking without aim.

Soon enough you hear faint murmuring beckoning you deeper into the forest.

Survival instincts kicking in, you slow down your steps, making sure to step onto clear dirt instead of gravel or fallen branches. Hiding behind a rather large tree trunk, you stare ahead. In the distance, you see two men: one with his back against the tree, while the other holds him by the neck, the sharp blade of his knife catching the sunlight and reflecting it directly into your eyes.

You hold your breath and your eyes go wide. You hear the thrum of your heart. It’s the killer. It has to be.

You can’t quite hear them but you can decipher the tone of begging for one's life. The man holding the knife tilts his head slightly, your mouth waters at the prospect of finally seeing the murderer's face—

It’s the mask.

The same mask you found in Joel’s home in the shape of an owl. Your stomach churns violently, bile raising to your throat as you watch on. You rub at your eyes, take deep breaths—anything you can think of that would erase the image before you.

Goosebumps raising across your skin, you shake your head. It can’t be Joel. He was with you the day Tina died and no matter how competent he was not even he could be at two places at once.

A muffled scream echoes within the forest and your eyes snap to the two men, the owl had driven his knife into the flesh and bone. He pulls it out, and the body falls. You recognize who it is; Jacob. You heard his name a couple of days ago from Ellie, he was bothering both her and Dina because they were hanging out.

He’s still alive when the killer stomps his head in, blood splattering across the leys.

You’re frozen in place. Your throat dry and tongue motionless. The killer kicks Jacob one last time for good measure and finally stops. You observe the way his shoulders drop as if a great weight had been lifted off of them, then he looks up into the sky, the golden sun highlighting his mask.

Very slowly, he lifts his hand and takes it off.

Every feeling comes rushing back, too fast and too soon. Your tongue is alive again and so is your body, the world is suddenly vibrant with life and horror. The sun continues to caress the countenance of the unmasked killer’s face, his sunkissed skin the perfect canvas to soak up the light.

Joel.

You take a step back, every thought of precaution dropping from your mind. The forest starts to spin. It spins and spins and spins until the ground slips from beneath your feet. You catch yourself at the very last second.

When you look up you see his gaze staring directly into yours.

“Fuck,” you hiss out, quickly staggering up. The last thing you see before you start running is his extended hand as he tries to reach out for you.

“Wait!”

You don’t. You do the exact opposite of that. You run. You run for your life and those in Jackson at the fair.

You run with memories loud in your mind. How Joel had listened to you, comforted you, fucked you—

Tears sting your eyes. Every part of this feels like a nightmare that you hope to wake up from anytime soon. But as the wind hits your skin, you know that every part of this is very much real. Your chest burns from how fast you’re going, your legs starting to falter underneath you.

Before you can react, an unexpected force slams into you. The impact sends shockwaves through your body as you collide with something—or is it someone?—their presence as jarring as the jolt itself. Your momentum falters, and for a fleeting moment, time seems to slow as you stumble, desperately trying to regain your balance.

Two arms grab at you and without even seeing who it is, you start to push the person away, fighting against it like a wild animal.

“Let go of me! Let go of me!”

“Hey hey hey,” you hear a familiar voice repeat. “It’s me, you’re okay,” you’re shaking all around, only when you feel his hands cradle your cheeks do you open your eyes. He smiles when he sees your eyes flicker in recognition.

“Tommy?” you whisper. He nods and without a thought you jump him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him close. His arms coil around you in response, promising to not let go. “Oh, thank fuck it’s you.”

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“I—I am okay but—Joel—It’s Joel, Tommy he’s been the one behind all those murders. We need to warn everyone, we need to tell Maria!”

You grab his arm and tug him along toward what you assume is the right way out of the forest. He remains still. Turning around, you shoot him a confused glance. 'Tommy, we need to tell people.'

“Can’t let you do that sugar, sorry.”

“Why. . . Why not?” you let go and slowly step back, heart pounding. “Is it because he’s your brother?”

You wish that was his excuse. Some moral obligation towards Joel because he’s his brother, that you can relate to. Your heart still pounds for Joel and in your brain, you’re still desperately seeking an explanation.

But Tommy allows the silence to linger, your fear and worry quickly turning into anger.

“Fine, I’ll tell them. It’s wrong.”

It only takes a blink of an eye; you feel Tommy’s iron grip around your wrist, yanking you back into his chest. He holds you. Oddly tender for someone who had made your arm nearly fall out of its socket. You thrash within his arms, pulling and hitting his chest.

“We’re doing good,” he grunts. “You gotta see that.”

You refuse to listen, your ear narrowing on the sound of your own blood rush instead of his words. By some miracle, you manage to slip your arm out and punch him square in the chin. It was a weak punch but strong enough to startle Tommy.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart, calm the fuck down—” he tucks your arm back against your body and turns you around so your back is flush against his chest. You’re breathing raggedly, chest rising with every deep gulp of air. His lips touch your ear, his tone menacing, “I really wish you would’ve not done that.”

“Why?” you gasp. “You’re gonna kill me too?”

Silence follows, and with every passing moment sweat beads on your forehead, “It was you wasn’t it?” you continue. “You killed Tina. Joel only came along with me to calm my suspicions.”

Before Tommy can confirm your suspicions, you notice movement within the forest and your eyes are immediately drawn to the shadow coming forth.

“Smart girl,” Joel remarks with a half smile as he emerges from between the trees. There’s a splatter of red over his shirt but the knife seems to be tucked away. For now. “But you’re only half right, darlin’. I came along because I like spendin’ time with you.”

“Is that supposed to make me ignore the fact that Jacob’s body isn’t even cold yet?”

Joel curls two fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze while Tommy continues to hold you back. You shudder against him, a soft sound parts the younger Miller’s lips.

“He was a piece of shit,” Joel grunts. “He was botherin’ Ellie, callin’ her names, he deserved what he was gettin’.”

“So what, you guys are just playing hero? Killing everyone who’s causing trouble in town? There’s a system for that.”

“Honey,” he tuts, an involuntary warmth spreading within your abdomen. “The system didn’t work before the outbreak, it ain’t gonna work now either.”

“We protect our own,” Tommy says from behind you, breath fanning your neck. “We take care of it before it escalates. You have to understand that.”

“And why the hell would I understand?” you hiss, looking directly into Joel’s eyes while addressing Tommy.

Joel smiles, his lips curling slowly, “Because you’re one of us. And you like it when we protect.”

Your lips part with an exhale. He’s right, not that you still agree with them killing people, but you had enjoyed that primal protection coming from the Millers. It made you feel powerful, loved, cared for. All the things you craved deeply.

You ignore Joel and his words entirely, averting your eyes with embarrassment and shame.

“I just don’t understand why you did it, Tommy” you murmur. Tommy tenses behind you, his arms tightening around your frame, drawing the remaining oxygen from your lungs. “I understand the other’s to an extent but Tina didn’t do anything wrong.”

Joel looks towards Tommy, it was his kill after all and the older Miller had nothing to say about it.

“She was wrecking what Maria is tryin’ so hard to build,” he answers. “She’s pregnant, stress ain’t good for her or the baby.”

“Does. . . Does Maria—”

Tommy cuts you off, “No.”

Joel leans closer, mouth an inch away from yours as he parts his lips. “I killed for you,” You hate the way your body reacts to him, wanting to close the distance between you two despite how unsettled you feel. “Ian was a piece of shit, so was Tucker and Jacob. They don’t deserve your empathy, honey. And you can’t deny that you’re glad they’re gone.”

His hair is a delightful mess. Soft locks going in every direction. All you want to do is thread your fingers within and forget about all of this. Joel’s gaze is observant, dark eyes darting all over your face. You don’t know what he sees but whatever it is, he nods to Tommy for him to let you go and he does. Legs lifeless and shaking, he catches you, his warmth welcoming. He’s still tender with you. Hands delicate as they move over your arms, shifting you so you'll be facing Tommy.

Joel’s hand curls around your neck and holds your chin so you can’t look away. You can’t read Tommy’s expression. You’re not sure what he’s feeling. However, you think he looks almost relieved that you’re not fighting anymore.

You shudder as Joel drags his lips down your neck, taking deep breaths of your fear-induced scent. His hands slip under your shirt and cup both breaths, making you squeal. Your objection is short-lived when he brushes his thumbs over both nipples, awakening them with slow strokes.

Tommy’s gaze drops to your chest.

“He’s been watching you, you know,” Joel says. “When I had things to settle in town it was him who looked after you,” his voice drops, eyes observing his brother. “I think he deserves a bit of a show, don’t you think?”

The whimper you let out is enough for Tommy to meet your gaze curiously. Joel smiles into your skin and your eyes widen as he pulls out a knife—a different one from the one he used on Jacob, you realize with relief.

Your breath hitches as he slides the knife under your shirt and cuts your shirt clean from the middle, exposing you completely to his younger brother’s eyes. Sudden arousal pools between your legs and you clamp them together suddenly, the movement not unnoticed by either of them.

“You like it when my brother watches?” he asks loud enough for Tommy to hear. “You got a little crush on him too, sweetheart, hmm? Don’t worry, he’s always goin’ to be lookin’ out for you. That’s what family does after all.”

Your neck strains as Joel tilts your head suddenly, claiming your lips in a violent kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to part your lips for him and pushes his tongue into your mouth, licking the surprised sounds of pleasure right from your mouth. Your heart skips a beat. He presses the flat side of the knife against your warmed skin, the chill of metal settling in your bones.

When he parts away, a string of saliva connects you still. “You’re mine aren’t you?” Joel groans, lips moving over yours.

You nod in a daze and he smiles, “And I’m yours too,” he says.

Your eyes meet Tommy momentarily, the younger Miller’s lips twitch in a half smile. He doesn’t say a word as he closes the distance.

Tommy cradles your face tenderly, urging you to come close as he envelopes your lips with his own, taking you by surprise.

The kiss lacks the intensity compared to Joel’s. Tommy caresses your cheeks with both thumbs. You don’t even feel his tongue, it’s just a gradual movement of lips, a type of affirmation and comfort.

“You’re one of us now,” he says pressing his forehead against yours. You don’t know how to react or what to say and you end up just nodding, your hands fisting his shirt. Him, parting away from you almost feels painful but you’re not sure why. Tommy gives you a smile and Joel a nod before he leaves.

You and Joel stand like that for a while, in complete silence, bodies flushed together, knife still resting over your stomach.

“I only did what was right,” he breaks the silence. His tone isn’t one of asking for forgiveness or understanding. His arms tighten around you. “Are you afraid of me?” he whispers into your ear, the thick hairs above his lips tickling the shell of your ear.

You don’t answer him.

“You don’t need to be,” he continues. He allows you to move within his arms, you want to see his face, you need to see him to not fear for your life. You ignore the knife grazing your skin as you turn around, your bare front snug against his chest. “I’ll never hurt you. And you’re the only person in this whole damn town that can say that. You and Ellie.”

“What about Tommy?”

“Tommy’s priorities lay elsewhere.”

He doesn’t allow you to inquire further about what he means by that. All you can detect is a hint of anger that quickly dissipates when he claims your lips once more.

You’re lost in him. His tongue captures you in a way that makes you forget the blood on his clothes—on his hands. His tongue slides against your own, pressing until you’re moaning into his mouth, your knees faltering at the knife smoothing down your skin.

Before pushing you down to the ground, he takes off the shirt he cut in half completely off of you, your bra following the pile on the grass. Your breath hitches as he takes his place between your legs, his mouth devouring your neck, “Joel. . .” you moan, fisting his shirt and grinding up to feel at least a bit of friction.

A silent laugh seeps into your skin, his breath sending shivers up your spine, “Do you still feel bad for them?” he teases, laying a wet kiss between your breasts.

You don’t think much as you answer, “No.”

And as a reward, Joel closes his lips over a nipple, sucking hard until your breathing goes ragged.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, moving towards the other pebbled flesh. “You’re too good, too kind, but they don’t deserve that sweetheart.”

He hooks his fingers into your belt loops and tugs down your jeans, laving you with soft, ticklish kisses as he moves lower and lower. When you’re completely bare to him, you have the urge to cover yourself, the grass tickles your back and the wind feels colder now. Joel smiles and pulls your arms away. He lays the knife right above your stomach and your breath hitches.

“I want to taste you,” Joel says. “But not in the way you think, darlin’,” he kisses the sensitive skin right adobe your belly button, and brings the sharp edge of the knife to your skin. “I want to taste the life that pumps through your veins.”

Your eyes widen as he nicks you. It’s a small cut and blood beads at the wound instantly. He doesn’t allow it to gather enough so that’ll trickle down, he quickly presses his lips against it, your essence coating his tongue as he gives it a tender suck. You can the blood leaving your veins, a pleasant tingle echoing from the wound and spreading throughout your body. Your eyes flutter, a moan escaping your lips as he flattens his tongue against the cut and licks with board strokes.

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he rasps, pushing two fingers into you with ease. You gasp at the sudden stretch, your back arching into his touch. “So darn wet—All this for me, sunshine?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, grinding down. “Joel, please—”

You hear the sound of his belt buckle coming undone, his breath heavy in your ear, “Since you asked so nicely, sweetheart, I’m obliged.”

You feel the head of his cock brush against your entrance, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your eyes close in anticipation and you whimper as he slowly slides inside you inch by inch. You can feel it, that intense fullness that can only come from him, taking his time to make sure it feels good. His size is intimidating but you feel yourself melting around him, eager and willing.

“That’s it. . . you’re takin’ me so well, such a tight little hole for me. Fuckin’ amazin’.”

He presses his forehead against yours, nipping at your bottom lip before thrusting, sending a wave of pleasure that makes your toes curl. You cling onto him for support as he pumps deeper and faster, hitting all the right spots. It takes neither of you long to climb the edge, ready to fall. You can feel the warmth of his breath, and his grip tightens on your hips. His pace quickens as the intensity builds, and you clench around him as he groans your name.

“Gonna come inside,” he slurs his words. “Gonna fill you up—shit—”

You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, his hard length contracting. As he pushes deeper into you, your insides flutter, squeezing around him. Your orgasm is ripped from you, shattering and mind-numbing. Your head spins and you cling to him, afraid that the world underneath you might slip entirely. His hot come warms you from the inside out, spilling from where his cock stretches you.

Joel remains inside until he starts to soften. He pulls out of you, leaving you feeling a longing ache deep within your core. You shudder as his come trickles down your thighs, your cunt clenching around nothing.

“Such a pretty sight,” he murmurs, entranced, as he gathers himself over his fingers and pushes it back inside you. “Try to keep as much as you can inside.” To emphasize his want for it, he slides your underwear up your legs.

You’re tied to him now. And even though you shouldn’t, you enjoy being the one near the beast. Joel helps you dress, at least helps you with what remains, and gives you his leather jacket to wear since your shirt is in ruins. Neither of you says a word as you walk back to where Jacob’s body rests. You help him bury the body, not feeling a single thing; no grief, no remorse, no sadness.

You always did have a complicated relationship with death after all.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #hauntedhoedown

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makeste · 5 months

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BnHA Chapter 407: Wait Why Are You Running Away

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan figured out how to control his quirk upgrade and was totally chill and normal about it. Definitely not terrifying at all. He actually spent the entire chapter smiling and laughing like the wholesome little boy he is. I don’t know why Kid For One is so freaked out about it. He even politely introduced himself using his childhood nickname. Clearly he just wants to be friends with you, KFO!

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “sorry to keep you waiting, here’s the AFO and Yoichi flashback you ordered at long last” and proceeds to serve a nightmarish stew of HUMAN MISERY and RATS and STABBING and CARNAGE and SO MUCH MURDER and THE SINGLE MOST FUCKED-UP CASE OF CODEPENDENCY ANYONE HAS EVER WRITTEN. I was not even remotely prepared for any of this, and if anyone else claims that they were, I will call you a liar to your face. If this chapter had a mouth it would scream. Or just sob, ceaselessly and uncontrollably. I’m really glad Horikoshi is on break next week because that man needs to take a fucking nap. My god.

okay WOW

anyone else read the first two words and just immediately say to themselves, “oh okay, so it’s gonna be one of those chapters”? I mean, I guess we were due for a darker chapter after last week’s Kacchan Comedy Tour. but idk, I just wasn’t expecting “homeless sick prostitute with a drinking problem” levels of dark

AND SHE’S PREGNANT?!

what exactly is this manga rated again? doesn’t this backstory seem just a little bit raw for the impressionable kiddos??

has anyone actually checked in on Horikoshi recently? you know, just to make sure he is okay??

what a fun and wholesome manga this is

the lil baby arm covered in blood with the AFO hole on the palm. lying next to the dead mom hand. what an image to sear into our minds. I guess it’s been a while since he killed any dogs. gotta keep us on our toes somehow

also wasn’t expecting AFO and Yoichi to be twins! that puts an interesting spin on their relationship, because it’s usually a closer bond than even regular siblings. especially with all of that delightful shared trauma from a young age!!

yes, exactly

ohhhh this chapter is gonna hurt me, isn’t it. okay. ooooooookay. let’s do this

OH I’M SORRY, THERE’S MORE?!

Horikoshi my dude. you do realize that their mom dying in childbirth and the two of them just barely surviving and growing up as street orphans would have already been MORE than tragic enough, backstory-wise. you did not have to turn this into a freaking horror show with RATS TRYING TO EAT THEIR NEWBORN SELVES jesus christ

and THAT’S where you chose to put a one year timeskip?!

what the fuck am I reading here, you guys. no please tell me, I am actually desperate to understand

so the narrator is saying that some of the quirks manifested later in life, in “pubescent and pre-pubescent stages”, which is interesting because it’s the first time I can recall hearing about someone actually manifesting a quirk that late. maybe Deku’s old OFA cover story was more plausible than I realized

anyway so eventually it occurred to everyone that they should maybe freaking study this shit, idk. and eventually the researchers concluded that the superpowers came from a new gene that apparently isn’t human. and upon hearing that, society apparently lost its freaking mind. which is fascinating to me because it implies that the turning point wasn’t actually the superpowers themselves, but the realization of what it meant

like, so they were apparently fine with it when they thought it was a “mysterious disease”, but somehow it hit different when they learned it wasn’t actually a sickness at all, but instead the Next Step in Evolution. and it became an “us vs them” thing, as opposed to a “we have to cure these poor people” thing. damn

anyway so now Japan is a dystopia and we’re cutting to a big crowd of merc-looking dudes who are getting ready to attack some “meta freaks”, how lovely

but who is this figure in the shadows

I ask politely, as if it wasn’t already beyond obvious that this is AFO about to wreck some people’s shit

ohhhhh my god lmao

hopefully Katsuki and Deku can take the present day AFO out before he winds up looking like this. because this little fella is clearly demonic and idk if anyone can stop him

you all don’t understand. you need to run the fuck away right now

oh shit it’s already too late for them

it’s too late for any of us. it’s over. it’s all fucking over

((((；゜Д゜)))

AFO I am putting the manga down. I am backing away slowly with my hands in the air. I mean you no harm. please for the love of god have mercy

holy

“you see, we told you he wasn’t human” okay Scientific Research Group, you know what?? you win this round I guess

“HE WAS LITERALLY EVIL FROM BIRTH” HORIKOSHI SERIOUSLY ARE YOU OKAY??

HE WAS BORN AN ARROGANT BABY is literally the most terrifying sentence I have ever read

what the entire fuck

it’s a gorgeous sunny mid-November afternoon outside my window. but no matter how hard it tries, the light cannot reach this place

what kind of moron would throw a can of soda at him. officially the stupidest person we have ever seen in this manga

OH MY GOD OF COURSE IT’S HIM LMAO

(ETA: how come baby Yoichi has clothes that fit him perfectly but baby AFO is just stomping around wearing a tablecloth.)

BABY YOICHI. OH MY GOD. HOW THE HELL DID YOU GROW UP TO BE SANE AND KIND AND GOOD. THAT’S MY QUESTION THAT I NEED ANSWERED RIGHT NOW. YOU ARE LITERALLY A MIRACLE. YOU ARE AN IMPOSSIBILITY, DO YOU KNOW THAT

small and weak, but also so, so cute. all of the cuteness genes went straight to him. no wonder AFO was jealous

(ETA: just want to press pause for a second to speculate about what type of twins AFO and Yoichi are, since it has some relevance to the story, and especially to the OFA/AFO quirk lore. so! at first glance the two of them would appear to be fraternal twins, just based on the fact that they have very different appearances, and also the fact that Yoichi doesn’t have the AFO quirk – no holes in his hands, etc. identical twins are born from the same fertilized egg, so in theory they would both have the same sequence of DNA, which means Yoichi would have had the same quirk as AFO. but that doesn’t appear to be the case. so all of that points to them being fraternal, not identical.

on the other hand, there is one piece of evidence in this chapter that does support them being identical twins, and that’s the fact that per the narration, AFO absorbed most of the nutrients from their mother. a few minutes of google fu informed me that this condition is relatively rare, and only happens in cases where two twins share a placenta, which typically is only the case for identical twins. HOWEVER, for what it’s worth, there have also been rare instances where two fraternal twin placentas fuse together and become a single placenta. AND this apparently also increases the chances of one of the twins gaining more of the nutrients and causing the other twin to have a lower birth weight.

so based on the evidence here, my conclusion is that the two of them are most likely fraternal twins with a case of placental fusion. besides, you can’t tell me that stealing his baby brother’s placenta while the two of them are literally still in the womb doesn’t sound like exactly the type of BS that fetus!AFO would pull, lol.)

HEY!?!

okay?!?!?! well to be fair he did throw that soda at him

oh my god this is so fucked up. in like the best and worst way possible

I genuinely couldn’t ask for a better AFO backstory. it’s so incredibly twisted, and you actually do feel sorry for him. or at least I do. but it’s also beyond clear that this kid was FUCKED UP BEYOND ALL REASON right from the get go. zero goodness in him. literally doesn’t see other people as people. sees them as possessions only. things to rule over. not other thinking, feeling human beings. and that includes his own little brother

but. even if it’s not actually what I would call love, there’s still... attachment, there. it’s the closest he can get to actually caring about someone. guh. just, somehow they have both managed to humanize him, and at the same time made him less human than ever. this manga, man. this fucking manga, though

lmao and here we go. Captain Hero

you know, all those times that I made fun of AFO for not knowing how to read, I never suspected that the twist in his backstory would be that he LITERALLY DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO READ dfksjdlfkjslkdf

but seriously though. because Yoichi appears to be self-taught, and I can’t see AFO having the patience for that, and CLEARLY no one else was around to teach him, sooooo...

oh my goodness it’s actually getting wholesome up in here

what a good fucking boy. poor AFO. fuck me, I can’t help it. it’s not your fault you’re the world’s greatest monster you poor bastard

now we’re cutting to THREE YEARS LATER. okay

is he going to declare war on the glowing baby

typical teenager concerned about nothing but likes and view counts. AFO you would be so much happier if you stopped worrying about all of that and just focused on your own growth

oh, lol. well that was quick

(ETA: r.i.p. Damien.)

“this guy had more instagram followers than me. so I killed him” honey. sweetie pie. you need therapy

omfg

all this time I was wondering who AFO’s middle school lit teacher was who had failed so spectacularly at teaching him reading comprehension. and it was YOICHI ALL ALONG. omg

“and, presumably, that’s how it always was and always will be.” dude. can you imagine listening to AFO’s oral book report on A Tale of Two Cities. “ahem. it was the Best of Times. the end” buddy noooooooo

it was at that moment when Yoichi knew, etc. etc.

oh my GOD I scrolled down to the next panel right after this one and I just IMMEDIATELY DIED LAUGHING

“WAS IT SOMETHING I SAID” ffffffffffffffff I fucking can’t omfg

NOW THIS HUSSY IS STEALING HIS BROTHER AWAY FROM HIM NOOOOOOO

HE’S HIS!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!! THAT’S NOT ALLOWED!!!

oh my god the hands. so wait, is this just the standard symbolic BnHA handholding, or are there More Levels To This. when exactly did Yoichi pass OFA on to Kudou. like is that why the sudden close-up and all that? omg

WHAT!!!!

OH THAT’S THE END, HUH? THAT’S THE END RIGHT THERE, AND THAT’S JUST HOW IT IS. I SEE. OKAY THEN. EXCUSE ME WHILE I PUT MY LAPTOP DOWN AND GO INTO THE NEXT ROOM AND SCREAM INTO A PILLOW

oh my god. and break next week too. this is what you guys have been dealing with this entire time huh. I understand your feelings now. godfuckingdammit lmao

#bnha 407 #all for one #shigaraki yoichi #ofa the first #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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peachdies · 1 year

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The Wind and His Moon (Sanemi x Reader)

A/N: hello! Part 1 of an ongoing story I wanted to write as I procrastinate studying for the Bar. I posted an earlier Drabble of something from later in this series, but I wanted to get the beginning out now.

Sanemi is drawn to the reader from the start.

Massive CW: canon typical violence, graphic violence, gore, child death, and implied sexual assault. Swearing and later smut. MDNI.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

Sanemi was there that day; the day she became part of the Corps.

The day her world had ended.

It had been fucking freezing that morning. The sky had been a muted gray as snow drifted down from the heavens in wet, fat flakes. The snow had started sometime the previous night, already having blanketed the village in its thick blanket.

The carnage, however, was fresh, and so the snow was not white.

It had only been an hour since the watery gray light of dawn had begun to bleed from the east, when his crow had swooped down over his head, tugging frantically at his hair. Rengoku ducked as his own crow collided with his head.

“Northeast! Northeast! Right at the base of the mountain! A horde of demons attacked the village!” They had cried.

Not just one. A horde. A horde of demons had descended upon a decently populated merchant village and had torn it and its people to shreds.

As he and Rengoku had furiously made their way towards the village (having learned that Tengen and Iguro were also en route), the crows screeched as much information as they could about the village and what had prompted the attack.

It had been her.

Or rather, her family.

The head of the village was a merchant known for his imports from the West; his success had meant the village was a success, with many small shops and tea houses lining the streets, always crowded with locals and tourists.

Demons have no use for money or exotic baubles; but Muzan Kibutsuji had a keen interest in obliterating Lunar Breathing from the world. And so he had.

The very same merchant whose business success had bolstered the local economy with his imports was also directly connected to the Clan that had created Lunar Breathing, the powerful, dark twin to Sun breathing. The merchant was the youngest and only living relative of the aging head of the Lunar Clan. The head of the Clan had never taken a wife after he had retired from life as a Pillar for the Corp some fifty years prior and had no heirs to continue on the family legacy. That burden, instead, was placed on the surviving eldest child of the Merchant in the village that the Flame and Wind Pillars now rushed to.

There had been an elder son, the crow panted, but he had passed a few years prior from illness. And so, the next surviving eldest had been tasked with the mission of becoming a demon slayer so that she could continue on the Lunar Breathing tradition. Her.

The crows did not know whether she had been present for the attack. Final Selection had only ended a few days prior, and it was entirely possible that she had either been killed on the Mountain, or was still making her way back to the village, unaware that no one would be there to greet her home.

The village had been eerily silent as Sanemi and Rengoku arrived. Dawn had given way to a dark gray sky, and visibility had not been ideal.

But it hadn’t taken much effort to see the blood and gore that littered the village’s once lively streets.

“What on earth,” Tengen’s voice broke the silence, as he and Iguro approached their comrades from the Eastern gate of the village. Behind them trailed a group of nearly thirty Kakushi. The Hashira silently took in the nightmare around them, unable to find the words for the level of destruction which had befallen the village just hours before.

“Kakushi. Spread out. Look for any survivors. They may be buried or hiding.” Rengoku’s voice was steady but uncharacteristically grave, his face stony and hard.

“Shinuzagawa, let’s make our way to the Lunar Merchant’s estate. We need to send word to the Clan head right away if-“

“You didn’t hear?” Iguro interjected, “the head of the Lunar House is dead.” Though the lower half of his face was covered, the anguish on Iguro’s face was evident. “That’s where Tengen and I just came from. He was ripped to shreds.”

“Fuck,” Sanemi hissed, a toxic mixture of anger, guilt, and despair roiling in his gut. An entire clan — and entire village— had been decimated in a matter of hours, and no one — they — had not been able to protect them.

“Have we word on the Lunar heir?” Rengoku asked quietly. Iguro and Tengen shook their heads. “Then she likely is lost, too.” The Flame Pillar turned back to Sanemi, his face a mirror of his own. “Let’s go.”

The snow and wind had picked up just as the Wind and Flame Pillars approached the Lunar Merchant’s Manor, obscuring some of the wreckage before them. Out of the corner of his eye, Sanemi thought he could see movement from the side of the Estate, but when he turned to examine it, all was still.

Before he could inquire further, Rengoku drew in a sharp breath, snapping Sanemi’s attention back to the Flame Pillar. But Rengoku was not looking at him; rather, he was staring straight ahead into the courtyard of the manor.

“Dear god,” Rengoku whispered.

Sanemi followed his gaze, through what had been once-proud iron gates, though only one side of the gate remained hinged. The other had been ripped from its stone setting, twisted by some unfathomable strength and thrown carelessly to the side. Just past the gate, Sanemi beheld a single, bloodied arm. But his stomach clenched at what lay beyond it.

There was not an inch of ground not covered in blood and bits of gore.

Body parts were strewn about, having clearly been ravaged by multiple demons. Broken glass and wood from the manor littered the ground, and the walls that were left standing had been showered in a thick coat of blood.

Most sickening were the pieces of bodies that were stuck to the sloped roofing of the Manor, as though some demon had plucked fleeing humans from the yard and feasted on them mid-air, allowing a shower of human entrails to paint the estate in gore.

A group of ten Kakushi had arrived at the Manor, gasping and crying out at the horror. Behind him, Sanemi heard one or two begin to retch, unable to stomach the carnage before them.

“Move!” Sanemi barked, his voice scratchy over the lump forming in his throat. “Fucking look for survivors! Anyone!”

Rengoku, a few paces ahead, called up to the crows circling over head. “Do you have a description of the heir?”

“She is around 16, Lord Rengoku!” It cawed back. Not helpful, given that most of the bodies here were unrecognizable.

Rengoku turned back to Sanemi. “I will check inside the house. You!” Rengoku called to a small group of three Kakushi nearby, “come with me!”

Sanemi continued to make his way through the debris and body parts outside, lifting stone and wood in hope that he might find someone — anyone — who had managed to hide.

He came across a large chunk of curved, chiseled stone that had become half-embedded into the soft ground below. Grunting, Sanemi heaved the rock aside, thinking it was perhaps some part of a fountain or statue.

But when he beheld what lay beneath, Sanemi’s stomach lurched. Crushed beneath the weight of the rock was the small body of a child, severed completely at the torso. Her two halves lay next to one another, a ragged seam torn between the two as though she had been pulled apart by force.

Sanemi felt the bile rise in his throat as his gaze fell upon the child’s face, utterly frozen in fear. Though death had snuffed any life that had once illuminated her eyes, it had not concealed the terror she had felt in her last moments, her mouth fixed in a scream.

She could not yet have been ten.

He could not help it. Sanemi turned away from the grisly sight and vomited into the snow, every inch of him trembling.

Sanemi wretched until his stomach was empty, and his throat burned from the acid and strain of his dry-heaving. With great effort, he forced his legs to carry him forward, any hope that they would find the Lunar Heir or any survivor growing dimmer by the second.

Even as Hashira, Sanemi doubted any of them had quite seen wreckage like this.

Sanemi neared the center of the courtyard, and halted before a large, circular stone inset that had been smashed to gravel. A large piece of rounded stone wall was all that remained standing.

Found the fountain, Sanemi thought bitterly. Another sharp, icy gust of wind whipped its way through the courtyard, disturbing the little bit of snow that wasn’t packed down with blood and gore. But the wind had also stirred up something else, something dark and wispy. Had the Wind Pillar’s lilac gaze been focused anywhere but that piece of stone fountain, he would have missed it softly fluttering up before disappearing beneath the lip of the fountain.

Sanemi moved to examine the other side of the broken stone. As he did so, Rengoku reappeared on the outer steps of the of the engawa surrounding the Manor, a frown etched deeply on his face.

“Shinazugawa, something is off. Demons were clearly here, but the house looks like it was ransacked— jewels, silks, valuables, all strewn about. Some things are clearly missing, like-“

“I found her.” Sanemi bit out, gruffly. “The heir.”

It was her hair, Sanemi realized, that had been disturbed by the wind, a few strands having drifted up before settling back down upon the bloodied shoulder of the lifeless girl collapsed before the fountain.

Had there not been a thick spread of red-stained snow and earth beneath her, Sanemi almost would have thought her to be asleep. Her face had been almost devoid of any injury, save for a few fresh scratches along her jaw and temple. Her eyes were closed, long dark lashes tickling a soft, and unblemished cheek, as pale and smooth as the Moon. Her expression was almost serene, in stark contrast to the chaos and horror around her.

The rest of her had not been left untouched. Sanemi noted that while she appeared to have maintained her limbs, her back was soaked in blood — no doubt the source of the large stain beneath her, and he saw that some of it still oozing from some sort of wound between her shoulders. Her the wrist on her left arm, stretched out before her, was bent at an unnatural angle, skin mottled from a mixture of the cold and an attempt to bruise before her blood had ceased flowing.

Beneath the torn and bloodied haori around her shoulders, were a pair of pants and a fitted, long sleeved top that had clearly seen better days. They hosted various tears and stains, and were caked in blood and what looked like mud.

The crows had said the Lunar Heir was around 16 years of age, but as Sanemi stared at her lifeless form, all he could think about was how small she looked; how young she had been, when she lost her life to the brutality of demons.

The thought made his blood run cold.

“No doubt this is her,” Rengoku said heavily, nodding at wounds Sanemi had not noticed on her hands. Squinting, Sanemi saw bruises and cuts in various stages of healing dotting her knuckles and fingers. He suspected more lay beneath her soiled clothing, though Sanemi ventured he could guess where they had come from.

“Final selection wounds,” Rengoku confirmed. “She must have just returned from the mountain when the attack began. Perhaps she even stumbled into the middle of it.” Rengoku shook his head. “She didn’t stand a chance.”

It was well known that even if one survived final selection, it was unlikely they would descend the mountain without injury. Seven nights with no access to shelter, food, or water was tough enough, but the added danger of starving demons almost guaranteed that one would not emerge unscathed.

She must have been injured, enough to slow her return home by a few days. Even if she had the skill to hold her own against the swarm of demons that had attacked her village, whatever injuries she sustained during final selection had likely sealed her fate.

Sanemi swore, looking over the last of the Lunar Breathing Clan, feeling the acrid bite of guilt and pity seep into his veins. The poor girl had survived the controlled horrors of final selection only to meet an even more grisly end at her home — where she was supposed to be safe. It was cruel, but so was a world in which demons lived, unchecked.

“She will get a Slayer’s burial, in the Master’s garden.” Rengoku declared firmly, raising his voice so the nearby Kakushi would hear. “She passed final selection; she’s one of us.”

“No,” Sanemi said, voice hoarse. “Bury her here with her family.” Sanemi’s eyes returned to the girl’s face, an inexplicable bitterness coating his tongue. “She fought to return to them; let her be with them.”

Sanemi lifted his eyes back up to the crimson gaze of the Fire Pillar. Rengoku stared at him for a long moment, before nodding, turning back to the Kakushi. “You heard Shinazugawa. Let’s give them a proper burial.”

The Kakushi began to move, thorough and efficient even among the horror around them. Sanemi readied himself to assist, moving to stand when his eyes snagged on the girl’s torso, his gaze drawn to the sizeable swath of smooth skin that was exposed to the icy bite of the snow. Sanemi’s frown deepened as he took note of the odd way that her clothes sat around her exposed abdomen. The girl was half laid on her side, but the front of her shirt had been bunched and twisted together, like it had been gathered and shoved out of the way. Sanemi’s eyes lowered a fraction to the front of the girl’s pants. At first glance, they seemed to be fitted around her hips normally, but that was precisely what caught his eye. The waistband on the girl’s pants slotted across her lower hips, not higher up on her waist as it should have been. One side was noticeably lower than the other, almost as though they had nearly been tugged off.

Almost as if-

Sanemi felt the hairs on his body rise. Looking over the girl once more, he noticed the suspicious lack of claw marks and bite marks to her body. The way that she seemed intact, compared to the bodies of her friends and family scattered in pieces around her.

The way that her blood seemed even more fresh than what caked the snow around them, as though she had been attacked right before they had arrived to the manor.

“Rengoku,” Sanemi said sharply. The Flame Hashira was back over to where the girl laid in an instant, though he maintained a respectful distance.

Sanemi jutted his chin toward the girl’s body and Rengoku followed his gaze. Sanemi could see the gears turning in his comrade’s head, as he too took note of the odd skew of her clothes, the lack of demon-like injuries despite her having stumbled onto a veritable feast on her family.

“How many demons do you know that try to-,” Sanemi ground his teeth at the word that came to mind, his blood beginning to boil and rage. “Have their way with victims before eating them?”

“Not many,” Rengoku conceded darkly, a similar anger simmering in his eyes. “Though not unheard of. It is… rare. Most can’t resist their hunger.” Rengoku fell silent, thinking for a moment.

“Didn’t you say the house had looked ransacked?” Sanemi turned his gaze away from the girl and towards the broken doors of the manor.

Rengoku’s eyes widened. “Yes. As if someone came in and grabbed anything they could.”

Sanemi nodded. “Bandits. Probably heard about the attack and got excited to loot. Found a body that wasn’t completely torn apart by demons and tried to take advantage.” Rather than bile, Sanemi felt anger, hot and lethal, threatening to spill out of him. He loathed men who sought to abuse women, but a girl who had just been attacked by a demon? There was no mercy he could give them.

Rengoku exhaled sharply through his nose, a weariness clouding over his features. “Though I don’t suppose we can really know for sure. There isn’t enough left of anyone else to compare.”

Rengoku clasped his hands in front of himself, and closed his eyes. Sanemi heard him mutter a small prayer for the girl’s soul, one that he had heard from Himejima.

“Whatever happened to her, she’s gone now. Let us ensure she can rest.” And with that, Rengoku turned to head back to where the Kakushi had begun digging graves for the deceased.

Sanemi watched the spot where the girl’s body had lain long after a pair of Kakushi had gently removed her to ready her for her burial. Sanemi watched with hollow eyes and a hollow heart as the Kakushi — female — tenderly brushed the girl’s hair from her face and straightened her haori. They crossed her arms over her middle and lifted her gingerly, carrying her over to join her family’s remains.

Hers was the last of the graves to be prepared. The Kakushi were just beginning to pack the mud and snow over her body, when one of them collapsed from exhaustion both physical and mental. The group had resolved to take a small water break before finishing, and neither Shinazugawa not Rengoku had objected.

After all, digging eighteen graves was no easy task.

Both Hashira had assisted, and their combined strength and stamina had streamlined the task considerably. While Kakushi rested, Rengoku had gone to the front gates to update Tengen and Iguro, who had been dealing with the wreckage within the village. Reinforcements of both Kakushi and lower rank slayers had been called in to assist with the clean up and burial.

In total, over sixty-three graves had been dug.

And not a single survivor had been found.

It was a heavy day — perhaps one of the darkest in the Corp’s history, and its crowning poisoned jewel was the eradication of one of the oldest breathing styles.

The news that there was one less defense against the demons was not a welcome one.

Sanemi had gone to the other side of the courtyard, away from the voices and graves and rising stink of death. Out of sight from any prying eyes, he found a tree and shoved his fist through it, clear to the other side. Pieces of bark and wood flew and splinters bit into the skin around his knuckles and palm. Sanemi could not find it in himself to care; he sought only to break through the silent numbness threatening to consume him.

Because he had taken refuge on the other side of the courtyard, away from the new gravesite, Sanemi did not see the hand and arm that shoved through the pile of earth resting atop the last grave. He did not see clawed fingers sinking into the mud and snow, desperately seeking purchase as the body attached to the arm hauled itself — herself — from beneath the earth, the remnants of her grave skittering to the side as she heaved her body out.

Sanemi did hear the terrified shriek of the Kakushi, and immediately drew his sword. In the distance, he could see Rengoku racing towards them, hand on the hilt of his blade.

Sanemi came into view of the gravesite right as the girl spilled out from the hole in the ground, using her bare hands to pull herself forward as the rest of her body remained limp.

Sanemi Shinazugawa was not a pious man; in fact, he frequently ignored Himejima’s prayers. If there were any gods out there, then Sanemi wanted nothing to do with them. They chose to let chaos and devastation run rampant. They chose to let demons exists.

But hell had apparently frozen over, and Sanemi found himself offering a prayer for the girl’s forgiveness as he prepared to behead her demonized form. He hoped she would understand; after all, she had joined the Corps intending to rid of the world of demons.

It was what he hoped one his his fellow Hashira would do for him, if he ever found himself in that situation.

As Sanemi cocked his blade, ready to strike the crawling demon from behind, Rengoku cried out.

“Shinazugawa, NO!”

Sanemi stuttered, his arm in mid-swing as he neared the demon’s neck. A flash of violet and white shot towards him, and a piercing shriek of metal tore through the sky as Tengen’s blade parried Sanemi’s, the force of the clash knocking him out of the air. A frustrated grunt tore from his chest, and with great effort, Sanemi twisted mid-air to avoid falling flat on his ass, managing just in time to swiftly land on the balls of his feet.

“What the fuck,-“ Sanemi had begun to growl, but his voice faltered at the look on the Flame Hashira’s face as he gawked at the girl sprawled on the ground.

In that moment, Sanemi’s sharp ears picked up on the weak heart beating rapidly and unevenly below him. At the same time, he caught a whiff of fresh blood, rising from the dark stain on the girl’s back. No doubt the product of a re-opened wound.

Ears ringing, Sanemi stalked around to where Rengoku and Tengen both stared unabashedly at the sight below them. Only when he was face to face with her did Sanemi finally understand what had caused Rengoku to desperately move to stop Sanemi sword from hitting its mark.

The three Hashira were not looking at a newly turned and bloodthirsty demon, but at a sweaty, pale, and trembling girl. The girl whose death they had feared doomed the Lunar Pillar House had just clawed her way out from her grave with nothing but her hands and sheer will.

She had not been dead, after all.

Slowly, so slowly, her eyes lifted to glare up at the person standing directly before her. Though she clearly strained to raise her head more than half an inch, her silver eyes met Sanemi’s lilac ones, and goosebumps erupted all over his skin as he beheld what lay within them.

Defiance. Pain. Rage.

So, so much rage, relentless and raw.

And so, so human.

She reached another trembling hand out before her to further drag herself away from her tomb. A thin sheen of sweat coated her pallid skin, and fresh blood was beginning to stain the snow beneath her.

She was panting, clearly fighting every urge in her body to give in, to let death beckon her back into its sweet embrace.

“I-I’m not d-dead!” She grit out in between shallow, uneven breaths, her jaw clenched so tightly that Sanemi wondered how her teeth didn’t crumble.

The three Hashira remained dumb and silent for half a heartbeat before-

“WHAT ARE YOU ALL STANDING THERE FOR? HELP HER!” Tengen bellowed, startling birds in nearby trees into flight.

The Kakushi sputtered into action, several of them moving to assist the girl, to help her when she exploded.

“DON’T TOUCH ME.” She screamed, eyes screwed shut and head bowed defensively over her hands as she clenched her fists into the earth. When she finally opened her eyes again, her gaze clashed with Sanemi, and his heart tightened as he recognized the emotion threatening to overcome her.

Fear.

Whatever this girl had experienced over the last few hours had overtaken all other senses. She had no logic, no ability to rationalize that she was among other humans, among comrades. Instead, all that drove her now was the primal instinct to survive.

And to her, they were another threat.

The girl continued to try and crawl away from them, but her movements became even more shaky, more uneven as the blood loss combined with her physical exhaustion. Rengoku caught both Sanemi’s and Tengen’s eyes, waiting to confirm their next move. All nodded, and Sanemi, having the advantage of being in the girl’s blind spot, struck the pressure point on the girl’s neck with his his hand.

She collapsed against the ground, unconscious and still. Gingerly, Sanemi lifted her into his arms, mindful of the open wound on her back, and of her head.

Once she was secured, the Hashira began their frantic sprint towards the Butterfly Mansion.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

#kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinaguzawa #sanemi drabble #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kimetsu rengoku #rengoku kyōjurō #demon slayer shinazugawa #kyojuro

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thefiresofpompeii · 3 months

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thoschei moment. twin celestial bodies on a collision course, two beings as powerful as gods sowing carnage in their wake: as one incessantly searches and creates, the other desperately ruins and destroys. they orbit one another for all eternity but even the slightest touch would bring about mutual annihilation. whenever one is imprisoned the other frees them from their cage fully conscious of the damage it will cause and both have left their home planet in ashes. they can never be together the consequences would be disastrous they can never be apart it always culminates in catastrophe. the impossible magnetic force pushing them together and pulling them away is locked in place forever as they burn through the vacuum of space

#can you hear me #thoschei #dw #jamie catches up #doctor who #spydoc #jamie.txt #doctor who meta #twissy #tensimm #best enemies #thirteenth doctor #thirteen #dhawan!master #jodie whittaker #sacha dhawan #doctor who series 12

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haddonfieldwhore · 7 months

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wrong - jey uso

jey uso x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k words

warnings: implied/almost smut, cheating, angst, unhealthy relationship, reader x roman, scripted violence, language, roman’s a dick, kinda blurs kayfabe and real life

october 5th 2020 - hell in a cell

you hated this. you hated everything about this. you hated watching you boyfriend and his cousin, one of your best friends, almost kill eachother in a steel cage - and for what? to win a championship belt? to win the never ending ego battle that was working with roman? officials had run into the ring, trying to stop the carnage, but backed away as roman threw a tantrum, tossing the steel steps into the ring. jey was down on the mat, flat on his back as roman stood over him, steel steps in hand as he held them high above his head, spitting more egotistical bullshit at his younger cousin. you and roman had been together for nearly two years, and to say he was a different person than the man you had fallen in love with would be an understatement. jimmy and jey had become your closest friends, which made the current state of things between the three of them difficult for you. you always had to side with roman, you had to be in his corner, even when he was in the wrong; which lately, you felt had been most of the time.

you had been so distracted by what had been happening in the ring that you hadn’t seen jimmy run past you and down to the steel cage, pleading with roman to stop. you knew it would cause more trouble, but you ran after the older twin, hearing him beg for roman to put down the steps.

“that’s josh, fool!” jimmy yelled, checking over his younger brother. “you know who we are! what is wrong with you huh?” you realized how real it had become for the twins, and you couldn’t imagine how jimmy felt watching the match. to your disbelief, tears formed in roman’s eyes, and he tossed the steps to the side. he sank down to the mat, holding his head in his hands. “whatever you’re going through man, we can fix this!”

“i don’t know who i am anymore,” roman said, his voice shaky as he cried, and your heart broke. maybe the man you loved was still in there somewhere.

“no more of this,” jimmy pleaded, reaching a hand out to roman, who took it in his, resting his forehead against jimmy’s. “i love you uce.”

“i love you too,” roman replied, before pulling jimmy over jeys nearly unconscious form and into a head lock.

“no!” you yelled; the last shred of hope you had for roman to come to his senses fizzling out like a bucket of water poured on a match. jimmy desperately tried to shake jey awake, yelling in pain as the younger uso finally stirred.

“let him go!” jey yelled once he saw what was happening, and tears fell down your face. “let him go! i quit!” he yelled, the words needed to end the match. he repeated them over and over until the bell rang, and roman finally let go of jimmy. you pushed past the officials and got in the ring, immediately checking on jey.

“that’s cute,” roman taunted, standing up, and you glared up at him. there was a fire in your eyes that would’ve scared any normal man. “aren’t you gonna check on me? you gonna ask if i’m okay, sweetheart?” he asked, holding his arms out. you stood up and pushed him backwards, your hands hitting his chest hard.

“i should ask you who you are!” you spat, “because i sure as hell don’t recognize the man standing in front of me right now.” you became even more angry when he just laughed in response, before his expression turned dark.

“i am your tribal chief, and you will acknowledge me; just like he will,” he said, kicking jeys leg hard. you brought your hand up to slap him across the face, but he caught your wrist, and looked down at jey.

“hey jey, keep your bitch in line,” his words cut like a knife, and you pulled your arm from his grasp, kneeling down beside jey who was now sitting up. he stared daggers at roman, who took his championship belt from paul heyman, and walked out of the cell.

“get.. get john,” jey breathed, asking you to check on his older twin. officials were already tending to him and had him sitting upright when you looked over, and he nodded softly at you, giving you a thumbs up.

“he’s okay,” you said, as you placed a hand on jeys chest, helping steady him as he tried to catch his breath. “are you okay?” you held the side of his face gently, checking for visible injuries and he nodded, leaning into your shoulder as you wrapped your arms around him.

“i’m good,” he assured you. “i’m gonna kill him.”

“not today,” you said, helping him stand up, one of the officials helping you get him to his feet.

“when i see him-“ he said, ignoring what you had said.

“jey, slow down,” you pleaded as he tried to go after roman, who had disappeared backstage. you stood in front of him, blocking his line of sight from seeing where roman had went and making him look at you instead, your hands holding either side of his face softly. “look at me. it’s not worth it.”

“like hell i’m gonna let him talk to you like that,” he yelled in the direction your boyfriend had gone.

“and i appreciate that, but you can barely stand right now. not today.” you repeated, and he nodded, sniffling angrily. “just breathe, okay? for me?” he nodded again, and let the officials help him out of the ring. you sighed heavily, wiping the tears from your eyes as more people got jimmy to his feet.

“thank you,” you said to jimmy. “i’m scared he would have never quit if you hadn’t gotten involved. are you sure you’re okay?” you asked, and jimmy nodded. he was okay to walk on his own, adjusting his neck as he walked up to you and threw an arm over your shoulder.

“we good. you a’ight?” he asked, and you took a deep breath.

“yeah, i’ll be fine. i’m more worried about jey,” you admitted. “i’m scared he’s gonna do something stupid.”

“it ain’t your job to stop him,” jimmy shrugged, walking out of the ring. he had brushed it off, but you could tell by his face that he was worried too.

•••

you were asleep in bed when you felt the bed dip behind you, followed by arms wrapping around your waist.

“i thought i told you stay away from me,” you snapped. you and roman had gotten into a huge argument when you got back to your shared hotel room, and you had told him to find somewhere else to sleep for the night; or you would. you pulled yourself free of his grasp, and sat up, only to see that it wasn’t roman; it was jey. “what are you doing here?” you asked, as more questions ran through your head, like how did he get into your room. he was silent for a few seconds, sitting up and leaning against the headboard, before he answered.

“i wanted to check on you,” he said, and while your believed him, it seemed like there was more too it than that.

“in the middle of the night? jey are you crazy? what if roman had been here?” you asked, pushing his chest lightly. he scratched the back of his head, his cropped shirt rising up to expose his abs. you looked away, playing with your fingers in your lap.

“i guess that was a chance i was willing to take,” he sighed.

“jey he would’ve killed you if you showed up and he was here.”

“then i guess it’s a good thing he ain’t here. where is he?”

“i don’t know. i told him to leave or i would.”

“are you guys still…” he trailed off.

“i don’t know. we didn’t talk about that,” you admitted, and he gave you a funny look.

“what did you talk about?” he asked, and you sighed.

“does it matter? it was a screaming match, jey, and then i told him to get out. we both said some really nasty things to eachother.”

“so why do you stay with him?” he asked, and your eyes filled with tears.

“i don’t know. when i look at him it’s like i’m staring at a stranger,” you looked down at your lap again. “we talked about you a lot,” you admitted. jey’s eyebrows went up, and he waited for you to continue. “roman thinks i care about you more than i care about him.”

“roman needs to worry about him not caring about you enough,” jey argued. “does he treat you like that all the time?” he asked, referring to the incident in the ring.

“no, but it’s not the first time it’s happened either,” you sighed.

“that ain’t right,” jey shook his head. “he ain’t get to talk to you like that.”

“you think i don’t know that?” you snapped. “what does it matter to you?”

“i think you needa stop waiting for the old roman to come back. because he ain’t coming back,” jey warned, but never raised his voice at you. you sighed, knowing that he was right even if you didn’t want to admit it.

“what are you doing here, jey?” you asked quietly.

“i told you, i came to check on you-“

“you could’ve called or texted for that, there’s something else,” you pushed.

“maybe i just needed my best friend,” he admitted, and your heart ached.

“fine,” you sighed, laying back down, facing away from him. “come here.”

“don’t do that, don’t shut me out. you’re pushing me away,” he put a hand on your shoulder. you rolled over to look at him.

“jey, i’m still with roman.”

“do you still love him?” he asked, and you stared up at the ceiling, quiet for a while before you answered.

“no.”

he didn’t say anything, but laid down, pulling your back against his chest again, and you let him. you battled with the thoughts in your head, before you rolled over, wrapping your arms around jey and burying your face in his chest.

“jey…” you warned, as his hand trailed up the side of your thigh. you looked at him, and before you knew what was happening, his lips were on yours, kissing you deeply. instinctively, you kissed back, before pushing him off of you.

you stared at him with wide eyes, the kiss taking your breath away as you tried to wrap your head around what had just happened. jey pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, waiting for you to say something, each second going by painfully slow. he was relieved when you kissed him back, your hands tangling in his hair as his hands slid across any part of your body he could reach. his tongue slid past your lips, moving with your as he flipped you over so you were underneath him.

you moaned as he rolled his hips against yours, and you tugged at his hair, his hands sliding down your sides, and then pulled your hips upwards to meet his. you dragged your nails down his back, before bringing your hands around to the front of his pants, palming his length through his joggers.

“fuck, do that again,” he said, kissing down your neck as you did what he said. he rutted his hips against your hand and you slipped your fingers past his boxers. your hand wrapped around his length, moving up and down, and he bit down on your collarbone, moaning softly.

“jey,” you mused as he trailed kisses up to your lips again. your free hand tangled in his chain that dangled from his neck as he stared down at you.

“you know i’d do anything for you, right?” he asked, kissing you softly. “what do you need baby?”

“i need you,” you pleaded, and he nearly shivered when you said the words, your touch still driving him crazy. you pulled him down by his chain to kiss you again, and he tugged at your bottom with his teeth before smiling at you.

“are you sure?” he asked, and you nodded.

“please just fuck me.”

“how can i say no to that?” he smirked, kissing you again as his hands started to slide off your clothes.

•••

you woke up still tangled under the sheets with jey, and you smiled to yourself, gently tracing the intricate patterns of his tattoos with your finger. there were scratch marks down his back, and you felt a little bad looking at them, but remembered the hickeys that surely covered your chest, and decided you were even. thankfully jey had been careful, and you would be able to hide them easily enough with a t-shirt. jey stirred awake a few minutes later, his pretty brown eyes fluttering open to look at you. he pulled you closer, kissing you softly, and you giggled.

“good morning,” you hummed.

“good morning,” he replied, kissing you again. “are we good?”

“we’re good,” you assured him. “but roman can’t know about this; not yet.”

“are you gonna end things with him?”

“yes. i just…. i don’t know when. right now i think it would make things worse for everyone.”

“so fucking me behind his back is better?” jey asked, a joking tone in his voice.

“jey… you know i care about you; a lot. don’t think i’m using you -“ he interrupted you with a kiss.

“i know, you’re right. but if we don’t want him to find out we should get out of here,” he said, and you laughed. you kissed him deeply again, and he held you tight, like you would disappear if he let go.

“do we tell jimmy?” he asked, as you both got up and started getting dressed.

“i think he’s gonna figure it out. do you think i could travel with you guys and trinity?” you asked, pulling on your shirt.

“of course you can. if you think i’m letting you out of my sight you-“ it was your turn to shut him up with a kiss, and his hands landed on your hips, pulling you close. you kissed him deeply, before stepping back.

“thank you. i’ll pack my bag and meet you at your room?” you asked, and he nodded, kissing you one more time before throwing his jacket on and walking out of the hotel room. you sighed, trying to wrap your head around the last twelve hours, and a smile crossed your face as your eyes landed on the bedsheets tangled at the end of the bed. you packed your bag, throwing everything of yours into your suitcase as quickly as you could; you would organize it later.

you looked around the room one last time, before walking out, leaving your key card on the dresser, and walked to the elevator to go to the usos room. your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you checked it to see a text from roman. you ignored it, not bothering to see what he had to say as you arrived at the floor you were going to. you knocked on their door, and jey let you in. he had changed into new clothes and his hair was wet like he’d just gotten out of the shower.

“hey,” he smiled, and you returned it.

“long time no see,” you joked, and he raised his eyebrows.

“hey, earth to you two, get your asses over here!” jimmy called from further in the hotel room, and you heard trinity laugh.

“thank god, i have another girl to talk to, i’m not outnumbered anymore,” she laughed, and jey pulled you into his side, tucking you under his arm.

“are you the reason he wasn’t here last night?” jimmy asked in a silly voice, wiggling his eyebrows. you laughed, and jey sighed.

“man c’mon.” you all laughed now, and you smiled, happy to be with your closest friends.

“your secret is safe with us,” trinity winked at you, and you thanked her, grateful to have her and jimmy on your side. you knew things were gonna be complicated, and they were probably gonna get ugly when roman found out about you and jey, but you could live with that if it meant you got to be with the man you truly loved.

you knew it was wrong to have cheated on roman, and a part of you felt guilty, but truthfully your relationship with him had been over for months. looking at jey, you finally felt like you had found the right person, and he had been in front of you all along.

#jey uso #jey uso x reader #jey uso fic #jey uso imagine #roman reigns #roman reigns fic #jimmy uso #the usos #wwe #wwe fic #wrestling #wrestling imagines

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