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peachdues · 1 month

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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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eternally-smitten · 6 months

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Drabblecember 2023

Hello hello self shippers! It's that time of year again for Drabblecember! My friend Mimi (@bioexorcizm) and I will be cohosting this wonderful event this year! This event will start on December 1! I made a prompt list for this event special (with the design help from my amazing friend @rainy-day-ships)!

There is no pressure to follow this list in order or do it in full! If you'd rather do a different day's prompt, go for it! This list applies to art and writing! Please also feel free to tag me, Dex, or both in your creations! We would love to see them! Make sure to have fun creating! ♡

Text version of the list under read below! :)

Prosh!p/Comsh!p DNI

Drabblecember Prompt List:

1. Cold weather

2. Baking together

3. Decorating

4. Learning traditions

5. Sharing stories

6. Wrapping gifts

7. Snowed in/Stuck inside

8. Sharing snacks

9. A walk outside

10. Sleeping in

11. Building a snowman

12. Snowball fight

13. Movie marathon

14. Stealing one's sweater

15. Being sick

16. Scrapbooking

17. Laundry fresh from the dryer

18. Winter date

19. Hot coffee/tea/coco

20. Listening to [holiday] music

21. A walk down memory land

22. Trying to stay up late

23. Stealing the other's sweater

24. Big get together

25. Swapping gifts

26. After a party

27. Making dinner together

28. Doing chores together

29. Shopping trip

30. Morning routine

31. Happy new year

#drabblecember #self ship event #self ship art #self ship writing #safeshipping #safeship #ok to rb!#drabblecember2023

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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.

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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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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

Whisked Away 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get a job at a bakery but your new boss only adds to your work

Character: chubby!baker!Thor

Please comment and reblog if it's not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

The tea shop hasn’t called back. Or the grocery store. Not even the cafe around the corner.

You’re tired. You’ve been sending out resumes for months. Reviewing and editing and sending again. You don’t get it. You have the proper credential and you have a decent amount of experience. It’s just been a while.

You want to assume that people just aren’t hiring but that wouldn’t explain the postings and re-postings. They are still looking but somehow you’re just not good enough on paper. Disappointment knots in your throat as your inbox reveals no new emails. You need something. Even a job at the burger joint will do.

You grab your phone and sigh. You stand and shut the laptop lid as you tuck your cell into your back pocket. You go down the short hall and knock on the bedroom door.

“Delaney? You up?” You call through.

You get a groan in return. Sometimes that’s all you get.

“Alright, I’m gonna open the door,” you warn as you twist the knob slowly.

You push inside and reach to flip on the light switch. Your sister grumbles against and covers her face with her arm. The windows are covered with dark curtains that give a blue hue even when the space is lit. She hids behind her forearm as you near the bottom of her bed.

“Are you hungry?” You ask.

“I’d love some coffee,” the croaks.

“How ya feeling?” You grab her walker and move it parallel with the side of the bed.

“It’s a rough one,” she warns and drags her arm away from her face. “I don’t wanna get up.”

You nod and trail your fingers along the top of the walker, “if you don’t wanna...”

“No, I should,” she insists.

She braces herself visibly, closing her eyes as her cheeks strain and she sits up with a grunt. He arms shake and she kicks the blankets of her legs. Her movement is awkward and stiff. You hate seeing her struggle like this. You know she’s just as unhappy about you seeing it. That’s why she’s so stubborn.

“Should be enough left for another cup but I can make a new pot?” You offer as you hold the walker steady and she grips it, pulling herself to her feet. She hunches slightly and tries to stretch out her legs.

“My feet are numb,” she stomps one foot then the other. “Annoying.” She scowls and shakes her head as you let go of the walker and step back. She turns it sharply and lumbers forward with the aid of the wheels, “I can have the leftovers.”

Patiently, you follow her to the door and into the hall. She wheels her way to the table and angles herself into the chair with her special cushion on it. She’s out of breath.

You go into the kitchen to give her some time to recover. You try your best to give her space, even in the one-bedroom. You sleep on the couch while she gets the bedroom. It makes sense, especially since lately her stipend has been covering most of your expenses.

You fill a mug for her and grab her pill box. You bring both to her and set them on the table. She takes the coffee first and swigs. She sighs as she sets it down heavily then snatches the box. She pops open the lid for that day of the week and scoops out the tablets. She sneers before she gulps them down with another mouthful of coffee.

“So, you were up early?” She prompts.

“You know I’m a morning bird.”

“Eh, yeah, wish I had that problem,” she mutters. Some days, she sleeps more than she’s awake. You tell her it’s part of her diagnosis but she won’t accept that. You can understand that but you know you can’t really understand. You’re not her.

“Yeah, well, the birds wake me up,” you shrug.

A sudden buzzing ripple in your pocket. You pull your phone out of the loose sweatpants and look at the screen. It’s a number you don’t know. You doubt it’s important but you can’t risk missing any calls.

“Gimme a sec,” you hold up a finger and turn away. “Probably the building or something.” You tap the screen and put the phone to your ear, “hello?”

“Hello,” a deep voice rumbles over a calamity of noises, some metallic, others humming, “oh, apologies, give me a moment.” You wait as you hear movement on the other end and the cacophony finally subsides, “ah, much better. Is this...”

You blink and confirm that he has the right number.

“Wonderful, I apologise for the early call but I tend to get started with the sun,” he explains, “anyhow, I was only just reviewing CVs and you are on my list of candidates. When would be a good day for an interview?”

You turn back and glance at Delaney. She sips her coffee as she pulls the laptop close. She opens it and squints at it before she clicks. She scrolls as you watch her.

“Um, well, I could um, any day,” you answer, trying not to seem to desperate.

“Today?” He asks, “it’s a bit ridiculous but I wouldn’t mind getting it over with.”

“S-sure,” you answer, surprised by the suddenness. It's as if the universe had sensed you were about to give up. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I... got your name.”

“Oh, yes, I did dive in head first. Thor Odinson, at Golden Crust bakery. You applied as a decorator?”

“Y-yeah, I remember,” you assure him, “just wanna make sure I get to the right place. Uh, thanks, um, what time should I be there?”

“Is noon doable?” He asks.

“Noon it is,” you say, barely containing your excitement. You try not to let it overflow, you don’t want to get all worked up for another rejection.

“Excellent, I will see you then,” he confirms, “now, excuse me, I think my sourdough has burnt.”

The line clicks and you lower the phone, staring at it. The tapping of Delaney’s fingers on the keyboard are the only noise amidst the the stunned silence. It’s great you got an interview but what do you wear?

“Hm, job hunt not going so well?” Delaney suggests as she leans into the screen.

“Actually, just got a call for one,” you go to the table and put your phone down. “I have an interview.”

“You do?” Her eyes flash as she looks up, a rare glimmer of happiness. “That’s awesome!”

“Uh, yeah, but it’s at noon so... I’ll have to leave for a bit.”

“Sounds good to me,” she scoffs, “perfect time to party.”

You roll your eyes, “you’re silly.”

“Well, you know, if you get the job, I’ll have to figure out how to entertain myself,” she says, “and I’ll get to binge all the TV shows you hate.”

“You’re such an optimist,” you chide playfully.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #drabble #series #au #whisked away #sweet and spicy #mcu #marvel #avengers

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g1rld1ary · 28 days

Note

hi baby !! 🧡

im sick rn and ive looked alllllll over and i couldnt find anything could you write a sickfic for luke from jatp where the female!reader gets sick ? reader is his girl 😽

im doing the same prompt on my blog because im so obsessed with the idea of sickfics and im such a luke girl

so you probably wont have much trouble figuring out who sent you this later if you look it up LMFAO 😍😍

pshsshssh thank you !! 🌼🌼

sick days ; luke patterson x fem!reader

➻ synopsis: you're not feeling well, but luke is here to look after you

➻ word count: 1905

➻ content: established relationship, implied aged up to early 20ish, pet names (love, baby, my girl), tooth rotting fluff

➻ obsessed with this request!!! i've never written a sickfic before so hope this is ok!! hope ur feeling better lovey xxxx

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Your body ached. That was the only thing you could feel. Actually, that was incorrect; you also had a headache and a snotty nose and you were pretty sure your temperature could boil water. In essence, you felt awful. You’d toughed it out for as long as you could, making yourself a steaming hot tea and cozying into the sofa for the night. It wasn’t making you feel any better. So, in a last ditch effort of saving your night, you dialled your boyfriend.

You smiled as his croaky, half-asleep voice came through your phone, murmuring your name.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You asked, brows furrowed as you checked the time, gasping when it read 1:45am. You thought it was still closer to eleven.

“Don’t worry about it, couldn’t sleep anyway,” Luke lied and you frowned, though he couldn’t see it through the screen.

“No, it’s dumb. I’m sorry I woke you up. Night, Luke.” You moved to hang up when Luke interrupted you.

“Baby, wait! Clearly something’s bothering you. What’s up?” You smiled despite your discomfort, your boyfriend always boosting your mood without even trying.

“Nothing,” You pouted in your puddle of blankets, “Just feel sick.” You could feel Luke’s pity without him saying anything and weren’t sure whether to be indignant or grateful.

“Can you stay awake for twenty more minutes, love?”

“I guess so, why?” You asked, turning the TV back on as something to keep you from sleeping.

“I love you,” Was all he said, hanging up on you abruptly. You smiled softly to yourself, willing your eyes to stay open as you tried to focus on the sitcom in front of you.

You were just dozing off when you heard your apartment door unlocking and the brief shuffling of feet in the entryway. Your grin brightened, the familiar butterflies returning to your chest, even after months of being with Luke. The man in questioned approached you quietly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as you looked up at him.

“Luke, it’s 2 am, what are you doing here?” You asked despite the obvious answer, opening your shield of blankets for him to crawl onto the sofa with you. He made you wait, tipping out his reusable shopping bag onto the coffee table in front of you. There lay a pint of ice cream, tea bags, painkillers, and your favourite chocolate. Suddenly you weren’t sure if the heat on your face was fever or blush. Silently you held your arms out, and Luke dove into them with all the enthusiasm of a child, peppering your faces with all the kisses he could manage.

“Couldn’t let my girl be sick on her own,” He mumbled, nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck, eliciting a bout of giggles from you.

“My very own Prince Charming,” You grinned, pecking his temple. After a gratuitous moment of cuddling Luke peeled himself off you, taking on the role of concerned caretaker. He was quick to dart into the kitchen, turning the kettle on for your tea and grabbing a spoon for the ice cream he’d bought. Sitting himself in the vacant spot next to you he fixed his focus onto the TV.

“What are we watching?” He asked, pulling the lid off the ice cream tub for you.

“How I Met Your Mother, I’ve just reached season seven.” Luke gasped dramatically, holding his hands over his chest in faux outrage.

“You continued without me? How could you?” You laughed at his accusatory tone, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Lukey. You have to forgive me though, I’m sick,” You punctuated the statement with a pathetic cough, smiling as Luke easily settled down.

You watched in silence for a bit, both giggling at the stupid jokes. After a while you felt Luke looking at you seriously, but chose not to think much of it, continuing to tune in to the show. When he pulled out a thermometer, you raised an eyebrow. Luke wasn’t usually one to be so prepared, but you let him rest it on your tongue nonetheless. When it read a concerningly high number Luke frowned, silently popping the painkillers out of their packaging, feeding you with the insistence of a fed up mother hen.

“Why aren’t you a nurse?” You joked, swallowing the medication with a mouthful of melted ice cream, “Rockstar be damned.”

“Only for you, love.”

“That’s not true, I’ve seen you fretting over Reggie,” You laughed, and Luke couldn’t help but join you.

“That’s fair. You’re my favourite, though.”

“How unexpected.” You craned your neck to press a kiss to his jaw, revelling in the dumb grin that crept onto his face.

You both settled into silence, you leant into Luke’s side, his hands rubbing soft circles into your thigh. You could feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep, never quite able to stay in it for one reason or another. The blanket was too hot, you were cold without it, your head hurt. Nothing was quite right and all you wanted to do was sleep for as long as humanly possible.

“Luke?” You whispered, in case he was already asleep.

“Yes, love?” He replied, shifting his position to look down at you. You faltered for a moment, overwhelmed with the pure adoration in his eyes.

“Will you play for me?” Luke was up in a second, arranging you on the sofa. You giggled as he manhandled you, lying you down and wrapping you tightly in your blanket so you couldn’t escape. You teased him about being his captive audience as he tuned his guitar quickly, never being so grateful for his perfect pitch.

Without anymore holdups Luke began to play, plucking softly at the strings to create a melody that filled the air of your little apartment. His playing was like a siren call, pressing weights on your eyelids until you could barely stand to keep them open. You watched him while you could, admiring the way the faint light from the kitchen lamp made him look like an Adonis, his hair illuminated in gold and his features accentuated by the shadows. You couldn’t believe he was your boyfriend. Luke Patterson, heartthrob of Julie and the Phantoms was your dorky, adoring boyfriend who would make supermarket trips in the middle of the night for you. Who had your favourite ice cream memorised and your key attached to his, so he could come see you whenever he missed you (which was pretty much always).

Despite the various aches and pains that had overtaken your body, the only thing you could feel as you drifted off to sleep was the burning ball of light in your chest, a chemical mixture of joy and love and gratitude, overtaking your senses one by one until you were asleep, dreams filled of beautiful images of your boyfriend.

When you woke up the next morning, you figured out it wasn’t morning at all. Luke had evidently switched off your phone’s alarm after you’d fallen asleep, and it was well into early afternoon when you’d arisen. To his credit though, the sleep had done you some good, and you felt much less like walking death after an intense sleep.

You untangled yourself from the knit blanket, your feet wobbly on the hard wood floors. You had serious post-nap daze, and wandered through your flat looking for your boyfriend. The poorly made sheets on your actual bed told you where Luke slept last night — or this morning, more accurately — you smiled at the way he’d arranged your stuffed animals.

Stuck to the fridge under your New York City magnet was a note from Luke, explaining he had to go to rehearsal but he’d be back later to check on you. You pulled the paper off, travelling back to your room to put the note in your ‘Luke’ box, adding to the collection of notes and drawings he’d given you inconsequentially that you’d held onto.

As the afternoon ticked by you’d gotten onto your computer, figuring that although you were still ill you should try and get something productive done. You were armed with your box of tissues as you got started on an assignment you had due at the end of the week, and slipped your headphones on to get into the headspace.

You screamed as a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, quickly dissolving into giggles as you realised it was only Luke, back from rehearsal.

“Your voice still sounds scratchy, baby, how are you feeling?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Better, promise. Tomorrow I’ll probably go to class if I get another good night’s sleep.”

“That’s my girl.” He grinned, and you felt your insides melting all over again. You closed the laptop, knowing you weren’t going to get much more done now that Luke was with you.

You spent the evening together, ordering in pizza from the place around the corner and getting slightly wine drunk as Luke told you all about his earlier rehearsal and the antics of his band. He sang you part of the new song he and Julie had written and you applauded dramatically, only stopping when you broke into a coughing fit.

“Wanna watch something?” He asked when you grew tired again, cuddling up to him like a cat.

“Barbie?” You asked hopefully, looking up at him with wide eyes. Luke sighed dramatically, but you knew he was just pretending not to like the animated movies you’d grown up on.

“Only if it’s Island Princess,” He offered and you nodded enthusiastically.

The two of you settled in for the movie night, Luke getting much more into the movie as it went on, as he always did. By the end you were singing duets — your voice considerably less pleasing than his, especially due to your illness — Luke taking on the role of the prince letting you be Ro.

As the credits rolled you felt your eyes closing again, and you felt eerily like you did as a younger girl, falling asleep on the couch after a Barbie movie. This was better though, because now you had Luke next to you. He’d taken his role as big spoon extremely seriously, and had all but become one with the couch, pressing into the back as he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

You shifted your position to face him, watching his face relax into contentedness as he tried to doze off to sleep. Feeling you watch him he cracked one eye open, mouth producing a dumb grin that made butterflies erupt in your chest.

“What?” He asked, but you got the distinct impression he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Nothing,” You lied, but gave in easily, “You’re pretty.”

“You’re pretty too. Now go to sleep.” You nodded, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Kay, goodnight Lukey. I love you.”

“Love you too, my girl. So much.” His answer was muffled by him pressing his face into your hair to pull you closer, but you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face even as sleep enveloped you.

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cozycornerevents · 26 days

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Cozy Corner Domaystic

Inspired by Domaystic, this Cozy Corner event celebrates fic/art/edits/etc. that shows the caped blorbo in everyday life situations. That includes some classic domestic trope and potentially fluffy prompts, but because we all love to see Homelander in situations, I've also added plenty of everyday hassles.

The event includes 31 prompts, one for each day of May (though you don't have to stick to the order), plus a few alternatives for those who want to fill 31 prompts but find no inspiration in some of the main prompts.

A big thank you to @bisexualhomelander for brainstorming prompts with me -- and especially for coming up with the glorious "mundane use of powers" prompt!

As always, rules are minimal. Fill however many prompts you want, in whichever order you want, with whatever medium you like: fic, art, headcanons, gif sets, video edits, etc. Fills can be for a ship or for gen, and most of the prompts are sufficiently ambiguous to allow for either. You can also combine prompts and fill a prompt twice if you feel particularly inspired.

As a general tag for the prompt fills and so I can find and reblog them, I would suggest #cozy corner domaystic. All fills will be reblogged to the freshly renamed @cozycornerevents blog (unless you say that you don't want reblogs, of course). You can start filling prompts before May 1, but I won't be checking the tag as regularly until the beginning of May.

If you have any questions, drop me a line here on this blog or over @xieyaohuan!

Prompt list

Morning routine

Making tea/coffee for a loved one

Grocery shopping

Fighting for the remote control

Zoom call

Laundry

Thunderstorm

Skin care

Crossword puzzle

Mundane use of powers

Unexpected gifts

Sourdough starter

Sharing a toothbrush

Somebody is wrong on the internet

Taking a flight

Going through immigration

Parallel parking

Snow day

Filing taxes

Glorious Five Year Plan

Road trip

Noise complaint

Coupons

OCD

Correct use of capes

Identity theft

Biphasic sleep

Fireworks

Peace offering

Doing the dishes

Calling in sick

Alternative prompts:

"Are you coming to bed?"

"You forgot to turn the light off."

“Oh, what's this?"

"I'm not wearing that."

"It's your turn to do dishes tonight."

"Ryan's teacher called."

"Where are my keys?"

"You're bleeding."

"You forgot the milk."

"We'll be late."

#cozy corner domaystic #homelander #cozy corner #the boys #I said I'd post tomorrow but I figured since I finished the list I might as well post it today #we're already a bit short on time and I want everyone to have as much time as possible to prepare if you want to!

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fogwitchoftheevermore · 2 months

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@mcyt-aro-week days 1 and 2 because i missed yesterday.

prompts: unconventional relationships / trope subversion, loveless / AU (blaseball au)

(remaining post under the cut)

"God, at this rate I'm never saving anyone's life ever again," Gem sighs as she puts her phone on Do Not Disturb.

"What do you mean?" False asks.

They're at a coffee shop in Houston. The Sunbeams had just finished a series with the Spies and were going home that night, while the Mechanics started a series with them tomorrow. False had decided to arrive a day early so her and Gem could do this, and after the terrible games both of their teams had had, False was particularly thankful for it.

Generally, she was thankful for Gem. About two weeks prior, False had been pitching a game in the Hellmouth, and the umpire had gone rogue. It was the ump at home plate, and it had been making a beeline for her when Gem had come sprinting out of her dugout and pushed False out of the way with more force than she'd expected the woman to hold. Gem had then tackled the umpire to the ground, taking the flames herself until they burnt out and could be safely removed from the field. Gem had barely seemed phased after the fact, just shook the dust off her uniform and walked back to the dugout. It was about as terrifying as it was impressive, and when Gem hit the game winning run off her at her next at bat, False couldn't find it in herself to be anything but impressed.

"My twitter mentions are blowing up, I think some fan or paparazzi saw us here and assumed we were on a date." Gem rolls her eyes and takes a long sip of her tea.

False can't help the snicker that comes out at Gem's words, but Gem doesn't seem particularly amused. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yup, this happens to me all the time," Gem says. "Everyone's got this image of us Fire Eaters being like, knights in shining armor, so every time I save somebody's life I have to deal with the internet being literally unusable for a few weeks if I want to avoid speculation about my relationships. Oh, and that's all the press will want to talk to me about after my games."

"Oh," False says, taking a long sip of her tea. She doesn't make much of a habit of looking at social media, and she has suddenly never been more grateful. "And this happens every time?"

"Every time! It's like they're trying to dissuade us from actually doing it or something. I'm not gonna stop, but like, sometimes I really want to. Can't they just ask me about the actual game one of these days?"

False lets the table fall quiet for a moment. She's thinking. For her entire career, she'd been a notoriously private person, both in her personal life and to the public. She'd been working on the personal life part for a long time, at the behest of her therapist, and she likes to think she's made some improvements. As for the public sphere, well, they weren't entitled to know anything about her. But- False takes a look at Gem, who's eyes are quickly flitting around the shop, like she's keeping an eye out for any cameras or fans looking too long in their direction. Maybe just this one thing...

"I think I might have an idea."

#empires smp #falsesymmetry #geminitay #mcyt blaseball au #mcyt aro week #id in alt #i put far too much work into these fake tweets for no real reason #but theyre funny to me so #i was originally gonna tell the whole story in tweets with it culminating in someone seeing false at pride w/ an aro ace flag cape #but then i got. lazy #if you see any mistakes in these tweets NO YOU DONT i am not fixing them

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whattheheckmidoriya · 1 year

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Steeped in Love pt. 1

Description: Levi Ackerman never expected to fall in love— he didn't consider himself capable of such a thing. But what's to become of his heart when you pull him out of the flames and offer a place for him to recover? What will he do when you barely make it back to him— when he hasn't yet mustered the courage to bear the secrets of his heart?

Pairing: Postwar!Levi x Firefighter!Reader

Warnings: building catching on fire

Word Count: 1,627

Author's note: After so much anticipation, it's finally here! I'm so excited to share more of this with you all, so please enjoy!♡

Join the taglist here!

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

•

"One coffee, black," Levi perked up, glancing away from the delicate cups he'd been so focused on scrubbing clean only to meet a gaze he's become warmly familiar with. "And make it a big one."

He couldn't help but click his tongue, turning back to the task at hand before replying with a plain, "This is a tea shop, not a cafe, you idiot." Scarred lips quirked up subtly at the exasperated sigh that seeped into his ears.

A tired hand massaged your temples as you leaned over the counter, waiting for him to turn to you. "I can see the damn coffee bags, Levi." You sighed, "You know that coffee place down the street is ass— help me out here."

The former Captain hummed, now satisfied with the sparkling reflection on the cup in his hands. Snatching a cloth to dry his hands with, he finally turned to you. The tired pull of your brow wasn't lost on him. "I heard about last night," Looking around, he made sure no customers had been left unattended. He crossed his arms. "How are you?"

A subtle smile tugged at your lips at the note of concern in his words. Your shoulders sagged as you released a weighted breath. "Been worse," What that implied made the man before you frown. You shrugged. "But everyone's safe, and that's all that matters."

Levi would've scoffed, hadn't he bit his tongue. Did you believe he didn't notice the darkening shadows under your eyes? You seemed to waver under the weight of it all just a bit more every day. He wished you'd let him ease that pressure off your shoulders, even just a fraction of it. He'd do it in a heartbeat.

There wasn't a single person in town who hadn't heard about last night's raging fire. It'd been a while since he'd seen destruction like that. He hated that you had been risking it all, staring down at the heart of those ravaging flames while he could only idly wait and read about the more gruesome details in the morning paper. A bitter taste settled on his tongue just thinking about it.

A scarred hand placed a travel cup over the counter, nudging it over in your direction. He quirked a brow at you, prompting you to take it.

You obliged without much of a fight, curiously eyeing the drink before taking a whiff of its scent. Warm. Roasted. Bitter, but sweetened to your liking. A weak smile threatened to curl your lips. "When did you make this?"

Levi shrugged nonchalantly, carefully watching your reaction as the rim of the cup met your lips. Satisfaction bubbled in his chest as he watched you relax into the drink's warmth. "Figured you'd need it," He commented, knowing well how last night's incident had snatched any chance of rest away from your begging hands. He didn't have the heart to point out the residue ash that still stained your cheeks and lingered under your nails. "Brewed it as soon as I opened the shop."

A small breath of amusement escaped you. For someone so obsessed with his tea, he surely knew how to brew your coffee just right. "My hero," you teased, taking another sip from the cup. "What would I do without you?"

This time, Levi allowed himself to scoff. He leaned over the counter, eyeing you under dark lashes. "You'd be choking on that shitty coffee from down the street."

You sputtered as a laugh soared past your lips. He still hadn't gotten used to such a wild melody. How exciting. A new glow flashed behind your eyes, a dazzling little thing that tugged at his heartstrings.

"Hey," you smiled, adjusting the collar of your jacket before sliding some money across the counter. "Thanks for the coffee, seriously."

Levi shook his head as he shoved the bills back in your direction. "It's on me," He cleared his throat, his gaze advising not to challenge him. "This town doesn't need the Captain of its fire department passing out in broad daylight."

You grumbled under your breath, stuffing the money back into your pockets. "Then how about I pay you with some dinner?"

At that, the former Captain froze. You chuckled at the sight.

"Nothing serious, I promise," You raised your hands in feigned surrender, gaze softening ever so slightly. "Just something to show my appreciation for the best tea shop owner in town!"

Levi rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "You mean the only tea shop owner in town."

Shrugging, you leveled him with a teasing look. "My point still stands," Courage bubbled in your veins as you leaned on the counter, agonizingly close to him. "Let me pick you up tonight. We'll grab something to eat, and I'll have you back before you know it, okay?"

"Aren't you busy?" He knew how unpredictable your job could be— he also knew how exhausting it could be.

You groaned in feigned annoyance. "I'm off of work early today, and tomorrow's my day off!" A pout settled on your lips. "Please, just let me do something nice for you."

Levi sighed, glancing over to the clock on the wall. It's starting to feel like a rather slow day, he had to admit. Mismatched hues glared at you with little bite. "Be here by seven," He stepped back, returning to the task of scrubbing the dishes clean. "I won't be up all night waiting for you." A blatant lie, he knew.

A sense of victory warmed your chest, and you couldn't help but subtly fistbump the air in celebration. Levi snickered. "I'll pick you up at six-thirty," you clarified with a grin. Getting ready for your leave, you once again grabbed the travel cup. "Oh, and dress warmly tonight! I hear it'll be cold." You shouted over your shoulder before stepping through the door and out of the shop.

Levi could only shake his head and bite back a smile as he watched you walk away.

•

Anticipation pooled in your chest and spilled down to your stomach as you drove down to Levi's teashop. Lucky bastard. Of course, he would have his apartment just above his shop. What you'd give to live so close to your job and avoid the treacherous drives into the heart of town.

All day, you'd been planning the evening, fine-tuning each detail to perfection. You'd take him out to dinner, have him try out some desserts, and if his leg permitted it, you'd offer to go for a walk around the city market. It'd been made clear that Levi preferred simplicity, and you didn't mind savoring a bit of it either.

A gentle tune crackled and poured out of your radio, the sound sweet as it seeped into your ears. You smiled, glancing at the scarf you'd gotten for him. It's been cold out lately. Supposedly, it would be even colder in the evening. A small gift such as this wouldn't be too much, right? You shook your head. It'd be best not to overthink it in case your courage trickled away.

A frantic clamor disrupted the melody, flooding your car. You frowned as you watched people rush out of their houses, jumping the last few steps off their porches before going off in a sprint. How strange. Their shouts drowned out the tune of your radio, something vile and fearful twisting in your stomach as their voices echoed in the air.

"What's going o—" Your eyes widened, chest constricting at the sight of smoke. A puff of gray rose to the sky, dark and angry, showering the town in ash. Silent prayers tugged and yanked at your heartstrings as a new weight of urgency settled over the gas pedal.

When did screams of panic replace the angelic tune of your car radio? When had your anxiety gotten the better of you, pushing your foot just a little further down, the rush not enough to propel you forward as quickly as you wished? When had the home of so many smiles and fleeting glances turned into a flaming coffin?

Hastily abandoning your vehicle, you rushed through the crowds, fear clawing viciously at your back as you stood before the beloved teashop. The once comforting aroma of tea and sweets you became so familiar with now withered away under the attack of raging flames. Your lungs stung bitterly.

"Is he still in there?!" You asked the first person you could get a hold of. "Is Levi still inside?" You pressed, hating the sour taste of desperation.

Your answer came in the form of wide eyes and a choked cry.

The crackle and pop of the wooden structure snapped you out of your panic. A quick look at the upper level of the building suggested the fire hadn't fully reached his apartment as of yet. A new sense of determination overshadowed your fear as you sprinted back to your car, grabbing the scarf you'd gotten for the former Captain.

With no time to rush back to headquarters for your equipment, you came to the dreadful realization that your team might not have gotten notice of the situation as of yet. Odds dictated that the situation could worsen before they arrived.

Frightful screams rang in your ears as you rushed past the crowds. Perhaps you were thinking ahead of yourself. Perhaps you weren't thinking at all. Maybe something other than fear was pulsing through your veins, chilling and addicting in the most dangerous ways. Whatever it was, you savored it fiercely.

You promised Levi a nice evening. Making sure he was okay was vital for you to fulfill such a daring promise.

Covering your nose and mouth with the scarf, you greeted the flames like an old friend as you plunged into them.

•

🏷 Levi Ackerman taglist

@leviackermanmyhero245 @violet-19999 @celestair @ms-sin-city @ghostly-haunted @andrastesbeard @ikisstoga @izukus-gf @Bluetima @lemonboi69 @aconstructofamind @figlia--della--luna @imjustasimpxd @notgoodforlife @bubsonnobx @a10vely-yutazen @Just-sana @Loca-raccoon @Hjnhuh @geese-goose18 @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @crbin-quinn

#steeped in love #levi attack on titan #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi ackerman fic #levi x you #levi fluff #levi angst #captain levi x reader #captain levi ackerman #captain levi fanfiction #captain levi x you #captain levi ackerman x reader

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bitchlessdino · 2 years

Text

the situationship

Pairing: seokmin x afab!reader x roommate!wonwoo

Genre: smut

Word count: 4.6k

Tags: polycule, secret relationships, reader being told they’re pretty and beautiful, reader w/ breasts, degradation, face sitting, double penetration, anal play

author note: this was probably the longest thing I've ever written and i felt so happy hearing yall want a full length version of the headcanon. this is the followup to the headcannon "homie hopper" under Dokyeom's tab in my masterlist and per request to the people that enjoyed it. I will be tagging all of you hehe.

Taglist: @sluttymingyu @sluttywonwoo @huiranghaes @shmooooo @wonwussy @multi-kpop-fanfics @flowerwonu @httpswonwoosglasses @kooookie @just-here-to-read-01 @onlyseokmins

You swore that you were mere seconds away from throwing yourself on Seokmin the first time you met at a mutual friend’s birthday. You felt betrayed moments after finding out he was your roommate's best friend. That meant if you did decide to pursue Seokmin and things fell through, you’d have a common denominator haunting you. It wasn’t right, and you knew that. Yet two weeks ago, you felt like god himself was testing you when you found Seokmin right at your door one evening.

You could feel your soul could pretty much leave your body the moment you drink in his sudden appearance. His wavy dark hair fell to his pretty, soft eyes, a relieved smile decorating his cheeks. “Y/n, right?”

Even with the simple way, he says your name, just–

“Right. Yeah. And you’re Seokmin.”

“Yeah,” a soft sigh leaves his lips, and you could’ve sworn a tinge of pink on his cheeks, “Is Wonwoo here? He said I could come by and just wait until he’s home to go out.”

That couldn’t have been right, you thought. He was supposed to be stuck working on an independent project and would be coming home for a while another day. You open your mouth to inform him but freeze, the words refuse to come out. Something was telling you that it was no coincidence that Seokmin decided to take the space of your roommate tonight. Instead, you tell him:

“Yeah, okay. Come wait inside.”

Seokmin sets his stuff aside on the couch, tapping his lap with his fingertips and smiling at you politely.

“Want a nightcap? I still have some coffee, or I could make tea?” You offer.

Seokmin nods. “Coffee sounds great.”

You went ahead to warm up some coffee you had brewed previously during the afternoon. In doing so, you subtly try observing Seokmin, who overtly does nothing, settling in quietly. You bring the half-full mugs to the coffee table where Seokmin decides to wait patiently and places one in front of him. He thanks you softly. He graciously accepts the mug and sips it, humming at it delightfully. “It’s very smooth.”

“Thanks. I wasn’t sure if you wanted cream or anything, so I set it aside on the table.” You respond, immediately regretting how you started to overexplain.

He chuckles, drinking the coffee as is. “It’s delicious. You have good taste.”

You got slightly giddy. It was nice to hear someone sharing a common love for a good roast. “It’s a really nice brand from Brazil. It’s been a personal favorite lately.”

“I can see why. Do you enjoy making coffee? Wonwoo told me you were a barista but wanted to open up your own shop.”

“Yes! That's the goal.” You start giggling, cueing the butterflies taking place in the pit of Seokmin’s stomach.

This prompted you to go on a tangent of your caffeinated career goals, taking the man's questions as an invite. What Seokmin learned that night was how much you rambled without noticing, not that he minded. Hearing you go off and just talk about something you love was (1) refreshing because people thought of him to be the same so it was nice to have to listen to someone else, and (2) you were so cute with how your eyes lit up with every word and detail. He thought he could listen to you for hours, days even. Although that would be nice, stalling wouldn’t have done him any good.

“Can I be honest?”

“Sure,” you answer invitingly.

He takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t here waiting for Wonwoo.”

Your bubbly exterior diminished, leaving a curious sternness. You cross your leg over the other, hands to either side, actively listening. You weren’t expecting that answer, nor were you surprised, however it was rather interesting to see Seokmin take the initiative.

Your head tilts to the side, peering at him more carefully. “Then why...it couldn’t have been to see me?”

He took a beat. “Yes, I actually did want to see you. Does that make you uncomfortable?”

You wanted to choose your words carefully, hoping your intentions would be evident between the lines. Your body veers towards him, your eyes glaze over him from top to bottom, noticing how casual but done up he actually looked: a plain white tee and a pair of cuffed jeans. Perhaps nothing to someone passing by, but seeing how the top hung around his collarbone loosely yet fitted up around his chest and lower torso, Seokmin didn’t seem like that sweet clueless guy after all, “No…I knew you were lying. I also knew Wonwoo wouldn’t be home tonight.”

He hums, softly scoffing in a way that just said ‘well what do we have here?’

“Does that bother you?”

The corners of his lips turn up in a relieved smile, eyes shifting to the shape of your lips, “Not in the slightest.”

He leans towards you, his hand reaching over to rest on the couch arm behind you. You catch Seokmin’s lips upon impact, initially cautious leaning away for any sign of hesitation. Your hand comes up behind his head and pushes it back on you, the warmth conjuring in your stomach was almost unlike anything you ever felt with someone else. You pull him closer, his body following to crawl over you. Your knees propped up on either side of him, Seokmin’s hips dip to match you, not showing any signs of leaving your side.

What preceded that night were things you wouldn’t dare let out an exhale of a breath. His hands stroke your sides as you ride him, their pressure digging into your flesh, falling to your ass that supports them satisfyingly in his big hands. Your moan his name blissfully, having him rut in you without the faintest clue how things have escalated this far so fast.

“You feel so good.” The sounds of your squelching fuel his stamina, sputtering your name, losing control of his impulses.

“Min, I’m gonna cum…”

He lets out a deep chuckle. “Well, we can’t have that yet.”

With the strength left in him, he lifts himself off the bed and pushes you down flat on your back, not pulling out even once. His legs bent at the knees, his hips buck into you, giving you the pleasantry of having him do some of the work this time. His hands take your legs to toss them over either of his shoulders. Your lower torso is lifted in the air but soon pushed down by the sheer force of his cock, twitching inside you, bottoming out. Your hands gripped the sheets underneath you.

Your mouth drops in amazement, following Seokmin’s euphoric voice gasping and groaning as he fills in the casing, a thrust to squeeze out every drop. He collapses on top of you, his mouth roughly taking yours as his hands stroke your sides. “You’re so, mmhp, fucking amazing.”

“Stay the night?” You offer in a soft voice.

Despite his pleasant smile, there’s hesitancy in his voice and he pulls away. “Really, are you sure? What about Wonwoo?”

Your eyes shoot up in realization. “Right, fuck. He’s supposed to come home sometime tomorrow morning.”

“How early?”

You shrug your bare shoulders. “I don’t know, like 9 or 10 am?”

A relieved smile presents Seokmin’s face. “Then I’ll leave around 8 am?”

You match his expression, “If you want, okay.”

“Okay.” His smile goes a little bigger.

“Okay.” As does yours.

He leaves around 8 am like he planned, of course not without a few rounds in before that, and hardly a trace of him is left behind. When Wonwoo comes back an hour or two later, he doesn’t question any events from last night. Your sexual rendezvous with your roommate’s best friend goes without a hitch.

Seokmin and you don’t define the relationship. Things were simply harmonious without it. Between sneaking around to have sex at either one of each other’s places or during one of those nights out together, it would’ve felt a lot of pressure to give this situatonship a label. Of course, there was something between you two that desire more than a fuck buddies situation, but you took what you could get.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that,” You could hear the thick nectar oozing out of his voice as he held your nude body in his arms.

You smile down at him, arousal seeping out of your warmth deliciously as it coated the lining of the condom dressing Seokmin’s length, squeezing around its girth and riding his lap. “I got a pretty damn great view myself.”

His chuckles tickle your skin, taking your arm to kiss you from your palm and gradually to your elbow, rocking his hips underneath you. Your moans are short and sweet, feeling how full he makes you feel. You are so close to where you are, calling his name, kissing his lips as if it is naturally where they belong.

“Mh, cum–Seokmin, mmh.”

“Doing so good, baby. Cum all over co–”

“Hey Seokmin, Wonwoo’s here!”

Soonyoung, Seokmin’s roommate, warns him from the other side and you immediately hope over him to hide under the covers. He tucks you away from the door’s view and tries pulling on a shirt until his bedroom door opens. Wonwoo enters with his eyes on his phone about to open his mouth regarding something important until he sees Seokmin barely an arm in the shirt.

The older man narrows his eyes at him, “uh, am I interrupting something?”

Seokmin rapidly blinks back at him, thinking of a response, “Uh, yeah can you like come back in an hour or s-something?”

“An hour, what takes an hour? What were you even doing?”

Seokmin tries scoffing nonchalantly, ultimately failing, “Nothing super important. Just, uh, mmm, m-masturbating?”

Even with an answer as outlandish from Seokmin, Wonwoo remains doubtful but doesn’t question his best friend as he backs away from the room and closes the door behind it. When the nude man checks for things to be clear, i.e. waiting for any more reception from the other end of the door and asking Soonyoung what the situation is in the living room via text message, he finally takes a breath of relief and looks underneath the covers for you inside.

His smile still shines in the dark of the thick fabric and you melt underneath its warmth. “Hey, we might have to cut things short today. I’ll distract him by taking him out to lunch. Can you leave 5 minutes after we do?”

You nod understandingly, “Okay.”

“I’m sorry–”

“No, do not apologize, we knew what were getting into. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” he sighs, still worried about leaving you behind.

You reassure him by pulling him into a deep kiss, caressing his tongue with your before, pushing him away, and rushing him out of the apartment as soon as you can. You were grateful for Wonwoo’s work schedule, it made your apartment available most of the time. There were those days you preferred his place to yours, forgetting to take into account that they are very close. This was one of those days that maybe it would’ve been better at your place.

It wasn’t as easy avoiding Wonwoo as you hoped it’d be. You found no fault in him, he’s a great roommate. He just had really poor timing sometimes, it almost felt on purpose on that point. Maybe that’s the guilt talking.

“You’re so good at making my cock feel welcome, baby.” Your mouth is warm and tight around his girth, Seokmin moans feeling you hollow out your cheeks.

Finally feeling like their alone, he gazes down at you with a sinister look in his eyes. Running his hands through your hair, the pads of his fingers going grip from your scalp. He feels your lips reach the base of his cock, seeing your head sink into his lap. “S-shit, you’re so–”

“What’s going on?”

You pull your mouth off Seokmin and avert your attention to the familiar man’s voice. You quickly match Seokmin’s panicked expression and gained as much distance as possible from him. The half-naked man quickly covers his raging boner that has met his dear friend's eyes. Wonwoo stares down from his spectacles to quickly drink in the situation, immediately forming his own conclusion. You draw attention to the situation as calmly and mild-mannered as you could. “Wonwoo, bud, I can explain.”

“It looks like you were sucking my best friend's dick.”

There was no better explanation than that. Seokmin, still pantless, inches over to his friend, awkwardly covering his half-flaccid cock, before trying to reconcile what’s left of this weird arrangement. “Wonwoo, I’m so—“

“Sorry? You should be.” Wonwoo drops his things to the ground, reaching for the top button of his dress shirt, and slowly peeling it away to reveal his skin. “I have a lot of catching up to do.”

You couldn’t help but watch him finish all the way through, his name barely escaping your lips until you realized past the incredibly toned abs what Wonwoo was insinuating. Seokmin was confused, of course, he was. His best friend was undressing in front of him and his sexual partner. What was he supposed to think about this?

“It really sucks finding out that you both had all the fun, sneaking around my back. Seokmin out of anyone would’ve known how attracted I am to you.”

Your eyes shoot open over to the man in question, who warps a flustered smile. “We may have talked once or twice about it.”

“We both talked about if we’re given the opportunity to be in bed with you, we’d both take it. And to think that he’d have the balls to get a head start. Bastard.” Wonwoo’s hands grasp the top of his pants to slip them down to his ankles and kick them aside.

His hands instinctively hold on to the fullness of his rod over the fabric of his briefs, stroking himself as he slowly approaches you, who watches him like a kid with a new toy.

You always considered Wonwoo an attractive man, but an even better roommate, having a situationship as you do currently with Seokmin was out of the question.

He bends down to your level and fingers at the oversized tee shirt you borrowed from Seokmin and follows the seams to its hem, “May I?”

You nod subconsciously before you realize that shirt is abandoned across the room and you’re entirely naked. Both men scan your body like it’s on display and Wonwoo tucks a hair behind your ear. “Seokmin was really keeping you for himself.”

“You started first when you waited until it was Mingyu’s birthday for them to meet me.” Seokmin retorts with sass.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind sharing time around. I have known them longer than you, and it looks like they don’t mind, don’t you y/n?”

Your throat was dry, shifting gazes from both the incredibly gorgeous men in front of you, asking for both your attention politely and mesmerizingly.

“I-I don’t, if I’m being honest. Seokmin?”

You turn to the man who was mentally prepared for one thing only to have a complete other. He watches Wonwoo’s hands trail over your body, watching what was exclusively his for some time only to have it be touched and admired by his own friend. He admits to himself it wasn’t entirely fair what he did to have you be his, but if he wasn’t going to do it, Wonwoo would’ve.

Then again, there was something exciting about seeing you overwhelmed with pleasure. There are some things he wishes he could do to make the experience more fulfilling for you. If this was what you wanted, who was he to say no?

“Alright, Wonwoo, how do you want to do this?”

A content smile spreads across Wonwoo’s face before looking back at you. “That’s up to, Y/n, of course.”

It was as if you walked into a wet dream. You were sinking your mouth over Seokmin’s length while Wonwoo’s length was prepping to be in the other end. Seokmin was relieved to see that pretty face of yours, wrapping your lips around him and taking him whole. “You take me so well.”

You hum contently around his girth, gaping open on the other end as Wonwoo caresses the shape of your ass. With his rubber-covered cock, the tip teases your entrance. Wonwoo licks his lips in anticipation, “Are you ready? Remember one tap for yes, two for no.”

You land one tap against the bed, giving him the okay, and Wonwoo wastes no time filling the absence of your warmth. You vibrate around Seokmin, allowing a groan to elicit from the man and he watches Wonwoo gain momentum inside of you. Wonwoo grips your hips in his hands slamming against you.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head while your lips and hands lose your grip on Seokmin’s shaft. Seokmin proceeds to thrust himself in you, tugging your hair, regaining his sense of control. His mouth was watering seeing you being used.

“Shit, your mouth feels so fucking good. You like that? Me and Wonwoo taking you at the same time?”

A corner of Wonwoo’s lips tugs against his cheek, “I bet they do, what a good little slut.”

He picks up speed, having you practically gargle Seokmin in your mouth, dribbling your chin and down your neck in a mix of your drool and his precum. The sensation was riveting until Seokmin had to pull off of him, scared of coming too early. This was a race he did not plan on finishing first place.

Like clockwork, Wonwoo pulls you by the arm, pressing your sweaty back to his firm chest, meanwhile, Seokmin joins your lips together. The taste of himself on your tongue is admittedly exhilarating, he chuckles with a heavy breath against your lips, intensely sharing a gaze. “Good slut is right.”

You whimper, followed by a moan, Seokmin’s tongue pushes past your lips, entangling itself with the presence of yours, and reaches his hand down to find your wet clit.

“Seok please, mmh, I can’t take it.”

“What? Is our little cockslut being needy? Wonwoo isn’t enough?”

You shake your head, “He’s s-so good, b-but, I want you t-too. P-please.”

A whine lingers in your voice, both men’s jaws dropping at its gorgeous resonance. Seokmin takes a look at his best friend, a devilish glut in his eyes. “How ‘bout it Wonwoo? Should we give them what we want? Or should we make them work for it a little more?”

Wonwoo’s breath tickles the back of your neck, teeth grazing your ear. “I think they can take a little more teasing, can’t you y/n?”

His voice sends shivers down your spine and you feel obligated to nod. He kisses your ear in thanks, his tongue tickling your ear lobe, “Good. Now, why don’t you let Seokmin pay you back by letting you use his face like a seat.”

A nerve in the younger man’s cock twitched at that suggestion, really grateful for Wonwoo’s presence at this point.

You quickly follow, asking Seokmin politely to make himself comfortable before you decide to. He nods willingly, laying himself at the head of the bed and pulling you along to take the next steps. You hover over his face, giving Seokmin a view of your pretty tits and flustered expression before he holds on to your thighs and lowers you to the latch of his lips. His nose immediately tickles your clit and tongue sampling your arousal.

“W-wow…”

A sense of pride settles in Seokmin’s stomach, feeling the instinctive jerk of his raw hips to follow. Wonwoo comes to your side, takes the side of your face in his hands, and attaches his lips to yours. In your half-open gaze, you see his glasses fog up as well falling to the lower bridge of his nose, causing you to bump into them repeatedly. His teeth gnash against your lips, tugging at them carnivorously before his tongue would play with yours, his hands finding home on your breasts.

You feel the tweak of his fingers, rolling your nubs in between as you grind into Seokmin’s mouth, unable to think of a response to what comes next out of Wonwoo’s mouth.

“Seokmin’s so lucky to know what your pussy tastes like. You’ll let me try next time won’t you?”

Babbling, brain scrambles from Seokmin’s skillful tongue, you opt for nodding, a rewarding kiss pressed in your lips in return.

“Good.”

You feel his hands squeeze the weight of your breasts in his hand and catch a nipple in his mouth, sucking and erecting it to its full size. “Your tits are so perfect. You don’t know how long I’ve waited to have you like this. Seeing you walk around with barely anything on sometimes, I almost lost it. If I knew you were such a little whore, I would’ve taken my chances sooner.”

You moan louder at Wonwoo’s voice, at the same time feeling Seokmin fucks your inside with his tongue faster, as if the impact of Wonwoo’s words were getting you both off.

“My only regret is I should’ve gotten to you first.”

You mewl, the heat of your body makes you lose balance. His handsome, kind face gazes up at you playing with your breasts, smiling charmingly, “You’re so pretty. Hey Seokmin. Where are we at making them cum?”

Seokmin takes his time pulling back for air before answering. “I think they’re ready. They’re so wet.”

“All thanks to you. Now, could you grab that lube from the bedside?”

The scene followed with Seokmin on his back with you on top of him. He would knock his cock at one entrance, while Wonwoo prepped and slicked the other. You kiss Seokmin feverishly, stalling for the imminent fullness you’re about to endure, and Wonwoo asks for your consent one last time.

“I’m ready, Wonwoo.”

The click of the cap follows, a chill sensation of the water-based lube hitting the crack of your ass, having you shudder on the man below you.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Seokmin praises, fueling your ego with kisses as his hands grab either of your ass cheeks and spread them apart.

Wonwoo let the pressure of his fingers test you out, feeling your hole swallow tight around him, a foreign but gratifying feeling to enter your body. “Good, good. You’re taking it so well.”

“Mmh, Wonwoo, mmp…more…”

He snickers. “Already can’t get enough? Seokmin you go this.”

The younger man nods, taking his member out and easing it inside your wet slit, your body accepting him naturally like he was home. Wonwoo plays with your ass a little longer, matching the rhythm of Seokmin’s hip, and inches himself in between the divide between both yours and Seokmin’s legs.

The pump of Wonwoo’s digits stretches inside you, scissoring and adjusting to their form before he replaces it with his cock, easing it gradually to avoid any pain on your end. You take a sharp breath, feeling the length fill your insides in their entirety and soon enough you feel the insane feeling of both fat cocks pushing deep and gratifyingly inside you.

You scream out in pleasure, resting your forehead on Seokmin’s shoulder and doing nothing to contribute to the insane ecstasy running through your body as thick as blood. Seokmin clutches you by your ass, swatting a hand at either one between every fierce grip, muffling your moans in his kiss. “You want the neighbors to hear or something?”

Wonwoo chuckles within his grunts, “Can’t help yourself, can you, baby?”

You could hardly hear the words they were saying, both rods coming in and out of you with no uniform rhythm, just fucking the daylights out of you until mouth drooling thick strands down to Seokmin’s chest. “Mmp, so g-g-good…”

You claw up for the pillows behind Seokmin, digging your nails until you could feel the flesh of your palm through the fabric. You weren’t sure how long its been, from baring the Seokmins’s hands that sucks on the skin and texture of your breasts so hungrily and the clap of Wonwoo’s hands against your jiggling cheeks that bordered your stretched-out holes, you never felt any feeling like this. You fould feel the taste of iron on your tongue from bit your lips so hard, clenching for dear life or this pleasure wreck you that hardest it damn could; you wish it’s never end.

“God, I’m cum-ning. Can I? P-please…”

Seokmin looks over your shoulder at Wonwoo, who was drenched in his perspiration, visibly tired but not drained, nodding back with a smile that could light up pitch-black skies. Seokmin turns to you smiling reassuringly with his lips against yours, catching his breath. “Cum for us, beautiful. We wanna see it.”

Seokmin’s word was as good as any, your trained hips now losing their grace, involuntarily twitching your lower body, and seeping your climax out on Seokmin’s sheets, helplessly faltering and losing strength when you’re finished. Wonwoo still pushes his last bar of stamina rutting inside you with Seokmin to follow. Simultaneously, they cum at the same time, exchanging gaze of pride, and pumping the last bit of their load in the condoms, over-stimulating you. Wonwoo kisses along your back, and Seokmin does the same with your cheeks, pushing sweat-drenched strands of hair away from your face.

You fall on your back against the bed as they pull out, both guys quickly disposing of their condoms and dressing to an appropriate level for a pair of friends that had sex with the same person. Seokmin is quick to help you clean up, getting a warm towel and letting it soak up the overflow of your orgasm, “I’ll run you a bath in a quick bit. We must've taken a lot out of you.”

Wonwoo watches the moment like a bystander, remembering briefly during the sex that there will be a next time but unsure if that would ever be the case. Seokmin looks over at you so kindly, treating you delicately with what seems to be like love in his eyes, thinking to himself, was there ever really a situation like this ever again?

“You’re really good to them.” Wonwoo comments.

“It's only natural when they give their all. Look how tired they are.”

You sip the water Wonwoo provided you earlier. “I’m okay, I’m okay, but thank you. The both of you. That was…incredible. Really.”

“It really was,” Wonwoo agrees, picking up the shirt he dismissed so easily coming across them initially, “Well, that was fun. I think I got my closure. I…I’m happy for, you guys. I’ll get going.”

The older man turns to leave until he hears one of their voices call out to him. He averts his attention from the familiar voice and meets eyes with Seokmin, who had the most welcoming smile he had ever seen on the man.

“Look. This…We can’t just walk away from this like it never happened. With Y/n’s permission, we should all…do it again.”

Wonwoo’s eyes shock open in apparent shock, shock for Wonwoo that is, stunned that Seokmin would offer such an arrangement. “Wow. Uh, Seok, that’s really big of you, but you don’t have to do that, you know? I'm not trying to get in between this, whatever it is.”

“You wouldn’t,” you butt in, “I think this something we’d all be okay with. The choice is yours, Wonwoo.”

You pull yourself up from the bed to sit up, joining Seokmin’s side. “Please?”

Wonwoo hadn’t even considered the possibility of the offer. He did enjoy himself and Seokmin’s presence did not hinder any of it, on the contrary, made it more pleasurable. He looked at the eyes of the people closest to him, the sexual tension radiating off of them was indescribable and for some reason, they felt even more complete if they had them. With an idea so bizarre, so out of his comfort zone, he couldn’t help but agree more. There was no reason for him to say no.

“Okay, but no more sneaking around. I want all the details.”

Seokmin nods, a hint of relief on his face and yours, “Of course, welcome to our situationship, Wonwoo.”

#wonwoo smut #seokmin smut #dokyeom smut #seventeen smut #jeon wonwoo smut #lee seokmin smut #lee dokyeom smut #seventeen dokyeom #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen seokmin #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 9 months

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Timeless - Peter Parker

A/N: Hello! Long time no see. Trying to get back into writing and was struck with the idea of creating fics inspired by Taylor Swift's work; however, that is a ginormous task. But in this thought process I was inspired to write this story. So alas, I present my first Taylor inspired fic. Who knows if or when they'll be more, but I hope you enjoy!

TS Prompt #1: Timeless (Taylor's Version)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader Word Count: 2.4k Synopsis: Peter and the reader fall into different love stories as they enter an antique shop.

Fall hits New York the same every year. Starbucks releases their pumpkin spice menu, the general public complain that it's too soon, and a week later colds and sweaters are no longer so far fetched. Central Park, once so green and full of life, turns dead and brown. There are fewer people on the street, or maybe it just seems so because they now huddle into one big mass to fight off the wind from the Hudson.

September 3rd, and you are tugging on a sweater you hadn't expected to use for weeks.

With the coming of fall also comes a new semester of college. A new year of classes, friends you'll only know for those four months, and long commutes to campus.

You take a glance in the mirror and brush back a stray strand of hair. As you check yourself over one last time, your phone buzzes on the counter next to you.

Peter: Coffee in hand, 3 minutes away.

You rush out of the bathroom, knocking the curling iron onto the floor, and tug on your shoes. Living on the thirteenth floor, it would take you almost three minutes just to get down to the lobby.

Hauling your back-pack over your shoulder, you blow a kiss to your cat and lock the door behind you.

Peter is walking to the front door as you come out of the stairwell. He smiles at you, holding out your coffee order.

"Hey," you say, a little out of breath. You lean in for a quick kiss and fall into pace together. "Thank you."

"Anytime. I figured coffee might make the first day back easier. Is that a new sweater?"

"It is. And it did," you say, taking a greedy sip of your drink. "What's your schedule looking like?"

"Nothing until 10, but then back to back classes. You?"

"I have a break around noon, but start first thing this morning."

"Excited?"

"I am," you said, looking at him. He smiles softly and takes your hand in his. "I like the first day - yeah there's nerves, but it's also full of new beginnings and hope."

"Including a new route," he says as you turn two blocks earlier than usual.

"My first class is on the far side of campus, this is a shortcut. You know, if your classes don't start until 10, you don't have to be here."

"I know," he says, smiling again. "And I can't promise that I will meet you every day at 8 to walk you to your class, but I'm happy to do it this morning."

"Walking me to class on my first day like a parent?" you ask with a laugh.

"Yes, and make sure you don't get to running away before I get that first day of school picture. I want it for our Christmas cards."

You're laughing as a window display catches your eye.

Timeless, the display reads, in large print newspaper clippings. The individually cut letters would typically look a little serial killer-y, but the shop had arranged a tsunami of old photos around it, making it look like a moment ripped out of time.

As Peter stops next to you, you realize the common theme of the display. In each photo, whether it's from the early 2000s or the 1930s, there is a couple in love. A woman with long hair and bellbottoms looks lovingly up at a man with a long beard and mustache strumming a ukulele. Christmas morning 1994, a man grins lovingly at his partner as he opens his PlayStation. Wedding dresses with big 80s sleeves, tea length gowns of the 1950s, and dancers in colorful geometric prints, all gazed back at the couple looking eagerly into the window.

"Let's go in," you say, practically subconciously.

"Aren't you worried you'll be late on your first day?"

"Aww, who gives a damn about ice breaker games?" you ask as you push open the door to the antique shop, the bell ringing in welcome. An old man at the register nods at the two of you, then goes back to his books.

"Look at all of these," you say, taking in the endless displays around you. The Timeless theme follows you inside. Not only do old photos cover every inch of the shop, but so do letters close to crumbling, porcelain trinket boxes that hold vintage rings, and clothes from every era imaginable.

"I wonder how long it took to collect all of this."

"Many, many years." You both jump as the man from behind the counter is now next to you. He holds a cane in one hand and his glasses in the other. "I've been working on this collection my whole life."

"It's incredible," you say with a smile. "Is it all for sale?"

"Most of it. Some of the pieces are from my own life that I won't part with. Did you notice the wedding picture in the window, bottom left corner?" he asks. You glance back towards the window and the shop owner laughs. "Of course you didn't. You could stare at it all day and still find new things. I do each day.

"Anyways, that's mine. Taken 40 years ago when I married my wife, Marjorie, right here in Queens. Don't believe I'll be parting with that any time soon. Just completes the collection.

"Well, look around the shop and let me know if you have any questions."

"Thank you," you both call as he makes his way back to the register. You exchange an amazed look with Peter.

"This is definitely worth missing ice breaker questions," he says. You laugh and lean up to kiss his cheek.

"I can't miss everything, but I think a few minutes in here are worth the delay."

You stroll away from him - both of your attentions caught by separate corners of the store. Peter wanders over to the small record section, the wall covered in Elvis posters, women draped effortlessly from his arms.

You decide to take a look at more of the photos. There are boxes upon boxes that look as if they haven't been opened in fifty years. There is no chance that even a third of them could fit on the walls of the shop.

You pick a box at random - a red photo box with a few scrapes along the side. Even looking through just the photos in this box would take hours. Thumbing through them, one catches on your thumb.

You pull it out and find a scene so familiar but unique all its own. Like the famous photo you saw in nearly every history class, a soldier kisses a woman in the 1940s. The streets around them are crowded, with other couples out of view embracing just the same.

The scene before you is a celebration and as you look at it closer, hoping to take in each and every detail, slowly the man's features shift to Peter's. No longer does the man have black hair. No longer is the woman he kissing the woman you first saw, she now looks just like you.

The streets are crowded. With trembling hands holding a small stack of letters, you look through the crowd, craning your neck to catch just one glimpse of him. All around you, loved ones are reuniting. Mothers are kissing their sons' foreheads. Women weep as they fall into the arms of their love.

Just as panic starts to grow inside you that maybe he's not back, that your prayers have not been answered, you see him. His brown hair is shining in the sun, his hat in his hands. His eyes, so full of hope, scan the crowd.

You cannot help the swell of emotions that come over you as you rush towards him. You knock elbows, mutter apologizes to the crowd as you make your way towards him. A few steps away, Peter sees you, too.

His smile grows into the breathtaking grin you love and missed so dearly, and before you can even process that he's safe, that he's home, you are crashing into his arms and his hands are in your hair.

You are melting in his touch as he kisses you. The long years of the war, the years of worrying, years of fearing every knock at the door, years of just one page of his words every few months, all slip away as the two of you come together.

His lips feel the same, which is somehow odd. How could all the years and all the changes you had both been through left this the same? Left this passion, this connection the same?

"Oh, I've missed you," he says, pulling away for air. You grin at him and kiss him again. Once, twice, three times until you are wrapped up in each other's arms again.

"Find anything good?"

Peter's voice jolts you out of your thoughts. Your pulse fluttering as if you truly were the women getting kissed in the photo, you show Peter what gripped your attention. He smiles and takes it gently from your hand. He looks at the inscription on the back you hadn't noticed.

"James and Dottie, 1944."

"It looks so much like that one we saw in school, but look at all of the people around them."

"So much love," he says, almost to himself. Your eyes meet and for some reason a slight blush covers your cheeks as you smile. The intensity of his stare becomes too much and you make your way down another aisle of the shop.

The shelves around you are full of books, some titles you recognize, some you don't, and some are so worn you wouldn't be able to even if it was your favorite. Once again, one stands out to you more than the others.

Half hanging off the shelf, a deep purple book draws you in. You take it off the shelf in a small cloud of dust. The inside of the cover reveals it is a romance, although that doesn't come as a surprise. You read at a whisper, "In the 1500s off in a foreign land, I am forced to marry another man . . ."

The walls surrounding you are tall and cold, the stone masonry reflecting the feeling in your chest. The white gown that drapes along your frame feels as heavy as chains.

At the end of this death march, the doors open upon a crowd full of people, your people, all dressed for the occasion. And there, at the end of the aisle is your betrothed.

But that man is not Peter.

The figure walking you down the aisle tries to usher you along when you come to a stop. Anxious eyes all around look at your frozen form..

"I can't do this."

The shock of what you've said gives your escort pause and you slip your arm away from his. Discarding the bouquet of roses, you take off back up the hallway.

Shouts follow as you run, gathering the skirts of your gown up in your hands, but you don't stop. Guards at the entrance of the castle reach for you, but guided by your heart, you are too quick for them.

The sun is shining when you break out of the castle, but you keep going. You go until your heart is thundering, your breathing comes fast, and Peter's cottage is in sight.

Even after the turmoil you experienced, just the sight of his home soothes you. You take a few steps up to his door and he opens it just as you raise your hand to knock.

"What are you--"

"I couldn't go through with it. I don't love him," you say. Peter lets out a surprised laugh, shaking his head gently.

"We talked about this. They'll come looking for you, Y/N."

"Then we'll run," you say, taking his hand in yours. "I don't care if we spend the rest of our days running, I prefer that to a life of luxury with someone I don't love."

"You mean it?'

"Yes."

"Then I'll keep you safe. For every second that we are together, for every moment that you are mine, I'll make sure no harm comes to you. I can't promise you riches, but you'll be safe."

"I gladly leave that all behind for you," you say. Peter is smiling as he closes the gap between you, his hands cupping your face as you melt into his touch.

You close the book with a secret smile and slip it back onto the shelf.

You know that you should leave, you are at least ten minutes late to class, and a few minutes walk from campus. But the shop has captured your heart, the stories embedded inside have.

"Y/N," Peter calls. You make your way towards his voice and as you do you pass more relics of the past. A photo of a 30's bride, high school sweethearts sitting on the porch of their first home, a young couple on the way to a dance.

"Hey."

"Hey, we should probably get going don't you think? You don't want to miss more of your first day."

"They are important," you say absentmindedly. Maybe it was because you had just slipped into fake memories, or maybe it was the fact that it was the first day of the semester, but looking at Peter, his hair mussed in a way that can only come from styling, a soft smile on his face, you were transported to the first day you met.

In a crowded room a few short years ago, on another September morning, first day of school, you lay eyes on Peter for the first time. Your fellow classmates are introducing themselves, the room filled with a dull hum of discussion, but your eyes only lock with his.

He smiles at you and moves your way. He holds out his hand and tells you his name, and somehow, you just knww. There's not always proof, there's not always a war or an arranged marriage. Sometimes, you just know.

"Yeah we should go," you agree. Peter leads the way to the door and holds it open for you. "I love you," you say, softly, and for the first time.

"I love you."

The temperature had risen since you entered the shop, but nevertheless, as you fall back into step together, Peter's arm is around yours and you know that one day, you'll have photos of the life you'll make, just like the ones in the shop.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman fanfic #spiderman fanfiction #ts prompts

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bluelockhalloweek · 9 months

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Blue Lock Halloweek 2023 Prompts are here—can’t wait to see what y’all create!

👻 Reblog with your favorites prompts & share with your Blue Lock crew!

👻 Find the event on Twitter @/BllkHalloweek

👻 See below for more info, typed-out prompts, & prompt examples if you need clarification or inspiration

👻 Feel free to mix and match, and take prompts as literally or as tangentially as you want!

👻 Work doesn’t have to be specifically Fall / Halloween themed as long as it fits a prompt. (If you’re writing a superhero fic for “Mask,” don’t feel like you have to stick a 🎃 in a corner unless you want to.)

👻 Work can be as lighthearted, scary, or spicy as you want as long as you follow the updated guidelines!

👻 Thank you to everyone who submitted prompts, & credit to the anons who suggested The Witching Hour & Mischief Night! A lot of suggestions were already on my longer list or were very similar, or might be better saved for next year. If your favorite isn't on the list, the “Free Prompt” finale is your day!

👻 Find event Archive of Our Own here!

👻 The event is on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3, so share your contribution on all three!

Blue Lock Halloweek (+ 2!): October 23 - October 31, 2023

Monday 23: Pumpkin spice + Do you believe in magic?

Tuesday 24: Masks + Heartbeat

Wednesday 25: Things that go bump in the night + Festival

Thursday 26: Firelight + Dark Waters

Friday 27: Paranoia + The Witching Hour

Saturday 28: Monster’s Ball + Hunter’s Moon (actual full moon date & name!)

Sunday 29: Angels & Demons + Castle

Monday 30: Spirit + Movie / Mischief Night (actual night)

Tuesday 31 🎃: Sweet Tooth / Sucker + Free Prompt!

Now for Prompt Examples + Explanations

I’ve had people ask for prompt examples in past events I’ve hosted and this event is open to any language, so here you go! These are the quick brainstorming notes (now expanded with links & definitions) I took while narrowing down the list to be sure the final prompts were unique enough / without toooo much overlap, and covered enough areas. Only some of maaaany interpretations—go wild!

Your host is a fic-writer with ADHD, so…you’ve been warned.

Day 1:

Pumpkin Spice: Cozy Autumn vibes. Putting up Halloween decorations, carving Jack-o-lanterns, coffee / tea shop, pumpkin patch, scented candles, baking, fall sangria, sweaters and beanies and flannels, momijigari (Autumn Hanami 🌸, basically) / admiring gorgeous fall foliage, fresh hot apple cider in an orchard. Itoshi Bros and their love of turtle/mock-neck sweaters. Pumpkin Farmer Aiku and Karasu scarecrow!

Do you believe in magic?: Revealing their magical powers for the first time. Crystal ball, tarot. Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, etc. AU. Non-literal magic in relationships (feeling understood, chemistry, humor matching up perfectly, etc). Wands, spells, magical objects, magical creatures, etc.. Making a wish. Alexis "The Magician" Ness.

Day 2:

Masks: Costumes, super heroes, putting up a front, acting like something you’re not, classic masked Halloween meet-cute, secret / concealed identities, spies, ninja and samurai and assassins (Karasu and Otoyaaa!) Niko hiding his eyes / face.

Heartbeat: Racing heart from excitement, fright, romance, spice. No heartbeat like undead, zombie or vampire, etc.. Skip a beat, beat faster, beat slower (calm and comfort). Chigiri on the run from zombies, zombie Lorenzo!

Day 3:

Things that go bump in the night: unexplained (scary or otherwise) noises in the night, whispers or voices, ghosts and other supernatural entities, haunted house / place, anything scary, …spicy. Spooky Owl outside Rin’s window.

Festival: String lights illuminating festival stalls, costumes, traditional attire (Aryu looking stylish!), food and drink, games, Isagi devouring fried fair food. Fall Music festival. Mid-Autumn Festival (with all the pretty lanterns and mooncakes 🥮), Harvest / Fall Fests in general. Bobbing for apples, caramel / candy apples, carnival rides and games, Ferris wheel. Oktoberfest; Kaiser and/or any Bastard München player in Lederhosen—please, I’m begging!! Fun house / haunted house. Day of the Dead festivities.

Day 4:

Firelight: Cauldrons, brewing potions. Candles, rituals, bonfires. Autumn camping trip, s’mores, spooky firelight shadows outside the tent, got lost on a hiking trip & have to make a fire to keep warm! Torches, candles, lanterns lighting the way in a definitely not-haunted place. Hell, your favorite circle (Dante’s Inferno) 😈

Dark Waters: merpeople, sirens, sea monsters, kraken, pirates (Kurona and Raichi, Bachira 🐬!), sharks, shipwreck, ghost ships, stranded on a deserted island, haunted lakes, lake spirits, Autumn fishing trip, swamp monsters, bogs and marshes, willowisps, alligators, snakes. Loch Ness Monster

(Fire and water, light and dark)

Day 5:

Paranoia: Fear and suspicion, feeling like someone’s watching and you just can’t shake it (...Ego and his cameras), feeling like you’re losing your mind, etc.. Doesn’t have to be all bad! Maybe there was a misunderstanding before a fun surprise.

The Witching hour: Wiki / dictionary. Depending on whom you ask, the hour is either midnight or 3am - 4am. Supernatural entities / practitioners of dark arts are the most active and powerful. These entities might feel compelled / drawn out into the world. Magic and danger, inexplicable happenings! Humans ought to be at home and safely tucked in bed at this late hour, or else... Fun fact, the Orionid meteor shower peaks juuust before this event starts (in my hemisphere, at least) but continue until November, and the best time to view meteor showers is generally around the witching hour (after midnight / 3-4am). Can also mean the time in which people get up to no good or questionable stuff.

Day 6:

Monster’s Ball: Monsters, creatures. Bachiraaa. Halloween party, masquerade, nightlife (going out in costume—or not—to bars and clubs). Reo buying a round. Literal ⚽ ball (Lil Isagi trick-or-treating in Noa’s kit), Halloween Practice (like in high school or college when your coach let you have a fun practice in costume before a holiday—absolute chaos and so fun!). Whatever chaos and debauchery y’all can imagine. Just follow the event guidelines and tag accordingly! Green eyed monster (jealousy), Cinderella’s Ball (Sae and Shidou!)

Hunter’s Moon: The date of the actual full Hunter’s Moon—lucky us! Sometimes called the Blood Moon. Full moon, werewolves, moonlight, on the hunt or being hunted, spells and rituals, Tsukimi / moon viewing + Tsukimi dango 🎑, moon myths and gods. Celestial things, Kurona and Isagi planetary hotline / astronauts, aliens.

(Monster vs Hunter day, ha)

Day 7:

Angels and Demons: Demon and priest, hell, listening to the angel or the devil on your shoulder (making a questionable decision because it’s tempting), devilish fun or spells, sin, temptation, a deal with the devil. Ohhh, Sae and Shidou, your night has come! 😈

Castle: fairytales, knights, vampires, dungeons, Royalty (King Barou, Emperor Kaiser!). Also super Sae and Shidou.

Day 8:

Spirit: ghosts, haunted houses, GhostBusters, spirit entities like yokai, Ghost Adventures. Gagamaru as a friendly Yokai! Shaman. Possession, possessed or cursed objects. JJK. Ouija board game! Monk Igaguri.

Movie Night: Watching a scary (or not scary) movie, series, anime, etc. So many movie/show Alternate Universes. Sendou living his Hollywood dreams. Barbie please!!! Nagi nodding off halfway through. The guys as a character from their favorite movie listed in the Egoist Bible.

Mischief Night: Wiki page. The night before Halloween for hijinks, pranks, scaring each other! Toilet papering Ego’s house. Can be more sinister, too.

Day 9: Halloween!

Sweet tooth / sucker: Trick-or-Treating, candy corn, so much candy, caramel corn, vampires or anything with fangs, bite, ‘sucker’ like 🍭 or vampires, or…

Free day / AU (alternate universe) Palooza!:

Whatever Halloween stuff you want that doesn’t quite fit a prompt! Just listing some of the things I would draw (if I could) or write (if i had time):

Video game au for Hiori! Pokemon! Ego as a gangly cowboy, ⚽️ bolo tie and all. Barou as the "Cowardly" Lion in the Wizard of Oz. And finally, artists, if you're reading this, please, please consider Noel Noa (of the 🇫🇷 French National 🥖 Team!!) dressed as Bonjour Man from Life Lessons with Uramichi Onii-san (clip, manga cap). Please Omg. This image has literally been haunting me since starting this event and the manga/anime (even the dub!) is soooo funny. And technically, Bonjour Man is a cursed spirit sooo 👻

Okay, that's it. Hope y'all have fun. Please reblog and spread the word 🧡🖤

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