How about for Demon Slayer a Headcanon about the reader being Tanjiro and Nezuko aunt and legal guardian following their family killed by a demon
Oh this is such a cool idea! Thank you! There's a bit of angst, but also light fluff here as well.
Being Nezuko and Tanjiro's Legal Guardian after the Demon Attack
Maybe you weren't the closest with the family, or you were just out of town, but you were shocked and heartbroken to learn that your family had been killed. Tanjiro's letter arrived before he did with the news that only he and Nezuko had survived.
You took care of the funeral planning while they came to live with you. You didn't initially understand what Tanjiro had said about demons, but you did notice that Nezuko behaved strangely. You were very worried about her hiding from the sun, refusing to eat, and sleeping so often, but when you saw that her health was unaffected, you started to understand.
You held them both close, assuring them that it was okay to cry and mourn, and that you would be there for them. Nezuko, especially clung to you tightly.
Tanjiro cries when Nezuko is asleep: leaning his face into your shoulder. "I should have been able to protect them as their older brother," he whimpers as the tears streamed down. You stroke his hair and wipe his face with a tissue. You understand what it's like to lose siblings, and you wish you could have done more, too. But you assure him it's not his fault. You're happy he and Nezuko are alive, and it's thanks to him that they both are.
You're relieved he doesn't have to go through this alone and that you can be there for him.
When you have all had some time to grieve, Tanjiro asks you about your family and your history, and you bond over telling stories. He and Nezuko listen intently as you talk about the mischief you and his parents would get into, about supporting each other, and making the most of life. Nezuko likes to listen to your stories as she drifts off to sleep with her head in your lap.
It frightens you so much when Tanjiro talks about hunting down the demon who killed his family. You don't want revenge to consume him, or for him to get hurt.
"Aunt y/n... It's not about that. The truth is that I want to help Nezuko become human again."
Even so, you don't want to lose your precious niece and nephew. But you finally relent. Tanjiro leaves to train. He writes to you very often. You hear about his highs and lows. Each time you clutch his letters, you wonder if you did the right thing. Should you be protecting them? But even then you feel pride to hear how he and Nezuko grow stronger each day, help others, and make new friends. You hope with all your heart that they'll come back to you safe and sound.
They finally come home. You feel weak with relief and wrap your arms right around them.
You're almost shocked to hear Nezuko speak. "Aunt y/n, we missed you so much!" She laughs, the sound light and bubbly.
They're quick to comfort you when you cry tears of joy.
Attack on Titan imagine where Armin is adopted by the reader who’s a kind-hearted wealthy young woman who took him in since Armin was a baby and raised Armin as her son
a/n: this request made me soft. i’m not saying this should become an erwin x reader or a levi x reader or whatever, but if you wanted to request a part two of that nature then I wouldn’t say no
masterlist | chapter two
When your husband died and left you widowed at the young age of 23, you told yourself you needed a change. Your parents were enraged, of course. When your husband died they’d only begun to look for a new man to take you under his wealthy wing of gold. It wasn’t enough that they’d succeeded the first time. Left widowed, unpregnant, and with a rich inheritance from your husband’s will, they figured you’d be the perfect daughter to send back out into society.
To them, it didn’t matter that you were unhappy. It didn’t matter than your marriage was loveless and your husband wasn’t anything more than a good friend. You’d never tell them the reason you weren’t pregnant was because you rarely had sex with your husband.
After the funeral you were left alone in your three story house, Deer Trace, on the corner of Wisteria Lane and Heartford Avenue. It was the largest house on the block, and it had been a gift from your late husband’s parents. You despised the baby blue of the cemented walls and yellow trim the shudders had, almost more than you hated the buttercream furniture the place came with.
The purple and green flowered wallpaper that covered the majority of the first level made you nauseous, and you’d mentioned to your late husband more than once that you’d like to get it replaced.
Looking at it now, remembering his goofy smile and reassurances that you could decorate the place however you wanted, made you feel so violently ill that you wished for nothing else but for the entire place to burn.
But still, the death of your husband wasn’t the hardest thing you’d been through.
It wasn’t even the strength it took to walk to the bank in your baby blue dress and dark green waist coat, papers and identification in hand, that left you feeling exhausted. You sat with the banker and spent hours signing papers and withdrawing every piece of coin you had to your name.
Nor was it telling your parents you intended to move out of the Interior.
They nearly had you placed in a doctor’s ward. They claimed you were grieving and you were scared and that is was alright to be scared, but you shouldn’t make such hasty decisions you’d regret later in life.
You’d never once stood up to your parents before.
You let them make every choice for you since you were a child. They chose what you wore, what you played with, who you studied with. At twenty three years old you were still unable to so much as decorate your damn house the way you wanted.
When you made it perfectly clear you weren’t going to change your mind, they threatened you with everything that they could. They wouldn’t ever see you again. Wouldn’t speak to you. Wouldn’t send you money when you inevitably ran out of it.
You swallowed it all like a horse pill and allowed them to do whatever they wished. You bid them a final goodbye while your mother hysterically sobbed and your father screamed at you to leave.
You immediately sold Deer Trace. Society bristled with rumors that you had been waiting for your husband to die so you could join your secret lover in Utopia. It felt so cruel that you almost believed it. You spent your nights crying, hoping your husband knew just how deeply you’d cared for him. You and he had such a special relationship. He was, in a strange, strange way, your very best friend. He’d seen the darkest parts of you and he’d taken your virginity, and still he could be confided in with every secret you had.
You stood in the door way of Deer Trace, wearing your best traveler’s outfit and a forest green coat over it. You watched as the realtor’s crew covered the furniture with thick sheets of canvas.
At the doorway, just on the credenza, was a blue, crystal vase. You gazed into the crystal as the realtor approached you.
“Is everything ready for your departure, madame?” he asked carefully.
He followed your eyes to the vase and a small smile of sorrow crept it’s way to his mouth. He took it in hand, the ringing of his skin pulling apart from the thin glass filling your ears. He placed it in your arms and wished you a pleasant journey to Shingashina.
The vase sat in your lap the entire journey as the carriage tottled over debris.
You’d never been outside of Mitras. It wasn’t as exhilirating as you’d hoped.
If anything you were terribly stressed the entire journey. Your money was already deposited in several trips and sums to the largest bank just at the edge of Wall Rose.
You had absolutely nothing to worry about and that worried you so terribly.
Being dropped off at Shingashina was absolutely nauseating. It was a beautiful place; quiet, quaint, and welcoming. Several of your neighbors stopped by at your new cottage with invitations to dinner and other festivities around their village.
It was nice to be brought apple pies and cheesy potato dishes. You wouldn’t have to worry about cooking for at least another few days with all the welcoming gifts you’d been brought.
But life proved to be more stressful than you ever could have imagined. Your main concern was managing your money properly. While that proved to be easy, you hadn’t expected other troubling tasks to come in the way.
You were now responsible for finding trustworthy sources of food. Which farms should you buy from?
Also, you were responsible for the upkeep of your house. How would you fight the chill of winter? There wasn’t insulation within the wooden walls of your cottage.
How would you chop wood? How would you carry it back to your house? How?
It became so stressful that you had begun to regret doing this. Five days in, and you were proving your parents right. You weren’t capable of surviving on your own.
And then, there was the night of that terrible storm.
Two weeks into your new life and a wicked thunderstorm had descended upon Shingashina. Your feared that your cottage would be picked up and swept away with the wind.
You spent that night curled in your bed, clutching the crystal vase in your arms like it was someone to comfort you.
You found in the morning that your cottage had done it’s duty of keeping you protected, but at a cost. The roof had become damaged and there was a sizeable lake now in your living room. You waded through the damage to the outside world as soon as you’d awoken. You weren’t the only one with such problems.
The entire village was joined together in a vow to help one another.
You wandered around the main streets, watching the aftermath of the tragedy with a heavy heart.
You were heartbroken to see such sadness among the village that was once so jubilant.
As you wandered, in search for someone who could help repair your roof, you came across a little street corner of a pair of women who practically juggled babies by the dozen.
You stared in wonderment, which seemed to catch their attention.
“Orphans,” one woman answered your unspoken question. “Children who survived the storm, while their caretakers did not.”
You licked your chapped lips, unable to conjure a proper response.
“We will not ask for your donations, madame,” the other, lighter woman pressed. “For we are certain you need as much help as they do. But these children need homes. Do you know anyone willing to open their hearts?”
You couldn’t contain yourself.
“Me,” you gasped out with a gravely voice. “I-I will. I-I would be happy to help at least one of them.”
The women, astonished by your sudden response, looked at one another with a sense of disbelief. “I-We-You mean it?” they exclaimed. They clamored over themselves as you agreed again, hoping they wouldn’t decline your sudden offer.
“Well just one moment, madame,” one woman said happily, nearly brought to tears as she ran within the little shop on the corner of the streets. She burst back out with papers in one hand, and a baby still in the other. “You must sign here, and here, and then signing here, you agree to either of us coming for random welfare checks. For the child’s well being, of course. And by signing here you agree to the removal of the child if your home is speculated to be in any way unsafe or violent.”
You were bombarded with ink pens and papers as you struggled to read through and initial each paragraph properly.
As you signed the last page, the two women looked at you through teary eyes.
“Bless your heart, miss,” one choked.
The other touched your hand so delicately that it moved you to tears of your own. “Would you like to meet them?”
You nodded, feeling almost unable to breathe. You stepped into the makeshift orphanage. Babies slept or cried, waiting their turns to be fed by any of the wet nurses who were volunteering.
You took a long glance around. You suddenly felt anxious. How could you choose one child? How does a mother decided which child will be her own?
Most mothers don’t, in fact, decide this.
You resigned yourself not to choose by who was the cutest, who was the quietest, but by who your heart resonated with the most. You walked along the rows of the rickety cribs. You would hold a finger out to the babies, only to be swatted away or even bitten.
It seemed like no hope. Like no baby would accept you. But the last baby did.
A little blond boy, with soft tufts of newborn hair, and eyes that barely opened as he mumbled to himself in his crib. You approached his bassinette and carefully stroked his little cheek with the backside of your hand.
His eyes suddenly opened wide. They were gray, void of any decided color. You swore they could turn green as he grew older. His little hand grabbed at your finger and gripped you as hard as he could.
“This poor child,” one of the women murmured. “Lost his mother to childbirth. Lost his grandfather to the storm.”
“What’s his name?” you asked without breaking the little staring contest you held with the baby.
“Armin,” a wetnurse answered woefully. “I knew his mother before she passed. Such a tragedy, ma’am.”
“Armin,” you repeated. It was a name you’d uttered before. It was the name of your dead husband.
And with that image of the late Armin in mind, you felt yourself decided that without a doubt this child was yours to love.
You cradled Armin in your arms, making sure to keep his head steady as he stared at you with those wide, newborn eyes.
“We thought he was sick,” a wetnurse admitted. “Never opened his eyes once. We didn’t think he would make it.”
“He will make it,” you said fiercely, giving Armin’s little nose a touch of your thumb. “I’ll make sure of it.”
aspergerhero asked: Futaba Sakura x Photographer Boyfriend! Reader on a trip in Akihabara
*:･ﾟ✧ i would’ve loved to visit akihabara when i was in japan but unfortunate for covid :/
futaba sakura x m!reader
tw: none
To be fair, this is what you were expecting when you asked Futaba out on a date.
Seeing the redhead bury her head in another manga, you sighed heavily through your nose. This was supposed to be a normal date (as normal as it could be) as Futaba wasn’t as used to socializing yet. You had hoped that this would be a new milestone, where you can hopefully record it in photographic form and keep it in your wallet forever.
As much as you loved Futaba, you wouldn’t want a picture of her face being covered by the latest issue of Shonen Jump.
Tapping your camera with your fingers, you shuffled from side to side as Futaba continued to read her magazine. “Hey, Futaba? You done reading that?”
No response as she flipped to the next page.
You sighed once more, stepping closer to Futaba as you slightly leaned on her. “Futaba, I can just buy you the thing so you can read it when we go out.”
You hoped that wouldn’t be the case. You couldn’t live with the fact that Futaba would rather read her magazine than go on a normal date.
No response again.
You pouted. You didn’t want to go to extreme means, but Futaba has to go out of her comfort zone at some point. Sucking in a deep breath, you placed your chin on her shoulder as you blew in her ear.
Just like magic, she jumped up in the air, face red as a tomato as she dropped the magazine. And like lightning, you quickly positioned your camera and clicked.
At least that’s one memory you’re willing to keep.
Headcanon about Elizabeth Midford/Lizzie x Male Photographer! Reader for one of the Headcanons requests
Hiya! Thank you for waiting and requesting, hope you enjoy these!
Elizabeth (Lizzie) and a Photographer s/o
2nd person. Male reader. no warnings
Kept it in series timeline wise, but well, just added in photography because that was explicitly needed for the request. It is also somewhat an AU in which Ciel does not return to the manor after the fire.
Being a photographer, you come from quite the affluent family. Probably not as affluent as the Midfords or the Phantomhives, but affluent enough to run in such circles. After all, in these days, photography equipment isn’t cheap.
It may have started as a hobby, older siblings in line for the ‘important things’ such as preparing to engage in politics or business.
Or the family might have been in the photography business to start with.
No matter how you got into it, it was pretty apparent that you were talented, and it’s the talent that got you increasingly higher profile assignments.
Your favorite subject to photograph was Elizabeth, or Lizzie, like you were allowed to call her after a few sessions.
You were immediately intrigued by the immense duality that was in her character. She was insanely adorable, cute looking in her big, colorful dresses, and seemed to be the sweetest girl on one hand, but on the other hand she had the badass reputation of being such an excellent swordswoman, which intimidated you to no end.
You had grown up together as children, always having this little childhood crush that young sweethearts can have, but of course, both of you were betrothed to someone else from birth on, that’s just how things go back in these times.
And then a terrible twist of faith happened. Elizabeth lost her fiancé in a terrible fire, yours succumbed to disease. There was no actual arrangement made for either of you to find a new betrothed, but you found strange comfort in each other.
Having photo shoots with you always had been a favorite hobby of hers, and now that there were no longer ‘dates’ being arranged with Ciel Phantomhive, she spent more and more time over at your place, going to beautiful parks and manors in order to get the perfect picture.
You were even more so motivated to perfect your craft, nothing could beat the smile on her face when you showed her the favorite of the results. People would argue that it was a waste of time and resources, especially since a lot of time you dedicated to Lizzy was free time, not necessarily paid for your effort or resources.
Over the years, as the both of you grew older, taking pictures became merely an excuse to hang out together, and there were multiple occasions where the picture aspect was completely forgotten.
There was something way more intense than a friendship blooming, and the stars seemed to have aligned in your favor.
So when you both became of age, neither finding someone else to marry, you gathered all your courage for a conversation with her parents and overbearing brother. The day itself you were terrified, but it had not been necessary. The way they roasted you was only to test your conviction, they had been hoping you would be the one stepping up to ask for her hand.
You proposed to her with a search, all the pictures of your shared childhood up until a picture you had only taken a couple days before, with you holding a picture of the message you had spelled out.
“Will you marry me”
The answer was a hug, and soft sobs that you could only interpret as ‘a thousand times yes’.
“Headcanons for human!Ariel (The Little Mermaid) dating a photographer!reader » if you please, of course
A/N: I hope you like it!
DATING HUMAN!ARIEL AND BEING A PHOTOGRAPHER:
- You’re a young teenage photographer photographing people for fun.
- Ariel is a 16 year old princess of a small country, who dreams about being a model because she wants to have her own life from her overprotective father.
- So when you two meet and become friends, you agree to try and make a portfolio of her.
- As you slowly get her portfolio together, you start to realize that you actually are falling for Ariel.
- And she’s falling for you.
- So some of your photos end up being photos of you and her together, laughing and splashing water on each other.
- Her father doesn’t approve at first, being terrified that you’d break Ariel’s heart one day.
- But when he sees how lovingly you two are staring at each other, holding hands and being so sincere, he sees himself and Ariel’s mother in you.
- So he approves.
- You agree to start “officially” dating after you have finished her portfolio.
- But by the time you have finished up her portfolio, she realizes that modeling isn’t what she wants.
- She just wanted to have her own life so her father wouldn’t always worry about her.
- But now she had found it with you.
- You’re still taking photos of her sometimes, using some photos in your own portfolio so you’d get better jobs when you’d be over 18.
- And Ariel’s photos helped you a great deal with it.
- Ariel doesn’t want to be a full-time model but she’s willing to model to time to time to show off some dresses or accessories.
- And the dynamic between you two is fantastic, maybe partly because you’re in love.
- You helped Ariel to get her father to realize that she’s growing up, and she helped you into getting to your dream profession.
Between us when I ask about Persona 5 Girls matchup, I always fall on Makoto. So my request will be Makoto Nijima x Autistic-Asperger Male S/o who’s now the new student council president
(I’m on the autism spectrum, so I based this off of some of my experience with it, but if anyone feels some of it is incorrect or poorly portayed, please let me know!)
- If her future s/o is someone who struggles with social cues and connecting with others, Makoto will really relate and understand them. While she’s not (canonically, at least), on the spectrum herself, she’s talked about her own struggles with trying to relate to her peers since she’s told she often comes across as “robotic” and doesn’t seem to have similar interests.
- She’s a bit insecure about that disconnect between her and other students, so having a partner that has the same issue would give her someone to talk to about it as well as someone who understands. Working together to try and get better at communication would be a great way to start quelling these insecurities.
- If her future partner is doing a really good job at their student council position, she might viww them as a rival at first, but once she realizes how much they have in common, that rivalry would slowly disappear and affection would take its place. Once this happens, she wouldn’t hesitate to help them out when needed, and they would become a school power couple of sorts.
- If her s/o is another student council president, one would assume that they were also pretty intelligent and diligent when it comes to schoolwork, and that would earn them Makoto’s admiration as well. Having cute study dates together at the library or a cafe would be common place.
Start off each morning with a cup of coffee, respect that time wants you dead, be good to each other & then disappear beyond the tree line. Is the same will be working with a cup of tea ☕️ ?
Ozpin: You can also start off each morning with a cup of tea, respect that time also insists you keep on living, be patient with one another and give in to the terrifying ordeal of being known
