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abibliophobiaa · 7 months

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Epilogue: Golden, Like Daylight

summary: everything falls into place (4.2k)

warnings: mention of birth, allusions to sex.

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

masterlist || previous chapter

——

Elena Munson was born on June twenty-eighth, on what would be one of the warmest days the month had seen so far. Fitting, for a little girl who brought the sun along with her, filling the bustling hospital room with overwhelming love and light as she was lowered against her mother’s chest.

It was a swift labor, but he cheered you on and held your hand throughout the whole thing (only groaning when you nearly broke one finger), and Eddie Munson had decided he’d never seen anything more incredible than watching the woman he loved bring his daughter — his daughter — into the world. Kissed your sweat-slicked forehead as his hand raised to cradle the tiny, wailing body against you, both your tear-streaked faces upturned with the widest of smiles.

Eddie was certain the two of you cried more than your new daughter, his body crowded over yours, the two of you tangled up on that narrow hospital bed, peering down at the face both of you had dreamed of for months. Pouty lips, those perfect little cheeks, a curly head of hair that impressed the doctor, and ten tiny fingers and ten little toes.

Perfect, by every standard. In every single way. Completely and wholly yours, knitted together in love.

And later, after the nurses had cleaned the baby and done their routine checks and you were allotted time to enjoy the joy of being a family, both of you watched Elena take in the world with new eyes. Merely looked on at her in awe, neither of you wanting to let a moment pass by lest you miss anything. Concentrated wholly on her little wrinkly forehead, the furrow of her brow, fingers resting against her father’s clavicle from where she rested in the crook of his elbow.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” you asked, marveling at the beautiful human you carried within for nine months.

“Her mother is beautiful, I’m not surprised,” he teased, rocking Elena when she mewled a bit. “Thank you.”

For loving him. For giving him this moment.

“We did it,” you told him. “She’s finally here.”

He leaned down then, kissing her brow, those mystified eyes of her’s closing. “I love you so much,” he told her, the first of the promised many to come. You snuggled in closer, body still sore and tired from exertion, head resting on the other side of his chest. Then he leaned down, lips soft against yours, grinning into your skin, both of you still on cloud nine. Whispered, “And I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your thumb reached over to brush over the curve of Elena’s cheek, her head stirring, but not waking her from her slumber. “We are the luckiest girls in the world. Aren’t we, Elena?”

——

Welcoming a new baby into the home was an adjustment, to say the least. Your nights had definitely changed, both of you quickly growing accustomed to a lack of sleep with a crying newborn keeping you up all night. But Eddie helped out as much as he possibly could, feeding the baby to allow you extra sleep, changing diapers, and he always was excited to do it.

Seeing him become a father made you love him more, if that were even possible. He doted on his little girl all hours of the day, singing to her, talking to her, simply looking at her like she was the greatest treasure he’d ever stumbled upon. And she loved him back, always wide-eyed and cooing at him once she was old enough to do so.

Soon enough, you’d fallen into a routine. He worked during the day while you stayed with the baby, and when he got home you spent time together as a family. Often just laying on your bed like you were right now, staring down at your daughter as she kicked her feet and waved her hands in the air, oblivious to just how loved she was.

“I want another one,” Eddie mused to himself, blowing a raspberry on Elena’s chubby cheek, ringed fingers splayed over her abdomen, giving her a tiny wiggle. At your horrified expression, he added with a laugh, “Not right now. I just…didn’t think I’d love being a dad so much.”

“I was going to say that’s easy for you to say when you didn’t have to push her out of your body two months ago. But Eddie, you’re doing a great job. Really.”

Those first days and weeks had been trying. Eddie often felt helpless initially when Elena would wake, screaming bloody murder, unable to do much since she really needed you. And though that was true to an extent because of obvious reasons, he’d gone above and beyond in other ways, if only to make sure your burden was lessened. Cleaning around the house, cooking for the two of you, making sure you could get in a shower and nap when needed.

You knew that insecurity was brought on by years of neglect due to his father, but Eddie would never follow in that man’s footsteps. His heart was too big, his love too deep for his family. Eddie had taken to fatherhood in stride and an eagerness to make sure Elena knew he’d move the mountains for her every single day.

“I’ll think about it,” you mused, leaning down to give Elena another kiss. “I think I wanna steal your last name first, though.”

It was a newer development. Talks about marriage. He’d brought it up a few days after Elena had been born, wanting to ease you into the idea of forever, to see if it would be on the table. And you’d surprised yourself with an immediate ‘yes,’ fully believing that all that you’d gone through was meant to bring you to where you were now, with this man.

He proved to you every day that your initial fears were for naught, trust for the love he bore you running deep, his soul a security you’d never known before.

Eddie rolled onto his side, head propped up against his palm, elbow rumpling the comforter near Elena’s hip. “Yeah?”

You nodded, rolling onto your side, nose pressing into Elena’s cheek, grinning as her gummy mouth turned to seek you out. “I am the only non-Munson in this bedroom.”

“You’re a Munson. You know that,” he said, leaning over to kiss your furrowed brow, “but one day soon…officially.”

“Soon, huh?” Your nose grazed his cheek, lips barely touching his, relishing in his contented hum.

“Can’t be giving away all my secrets now,” he whispered, nosing along your jaw, mouth dancing at your pulse point. “I want it to be a surprise.”

——

That surprise came a week before Eddie was set to leave on tour. Months had flashed before your eyes, your newborn suddenly six months old and more vibrant than ever. Constantly smiling and babbling. Your home was filled with laughter — yours, her’s and her father’s, the two of them the brightest lights in your life.

That same father stood in the kitchen, bobbing his head to a song as Elena sat in her baby chair, blinking up at the fan circling up above. It was her newest fascination — watching the blades spin around and around and around, like it was the most entertaining thing on earth.

“Eddie, I just finished washing the rest of your clothes. They’re just out to hang dry on the line now,” you told him, slipping your arms around him from behind, hugging him close. Could feel his heat through your sweater, sighed into it. “What if I just hold onto you so you can’t get onto the tour bus? Cling to your ankles?”

Eddie turned off the sink, wiped his hands on a towel, and spun around. Shifted you so now his arms curled around your waist, sliding beneath the fabric of your sweater, calloused fingers dragging along your skin. You’d never tire of him in this way; his hands on your body, his form against yours, his lips, times — though understandably less frequent now — when he’d have you under him or over him in whatever way you’d liked, crying his name like a song.

“We’re going to miss you.” You pouted, pressing your ear to his sternum.

“You’re going to be at the first few shows,” he murmured against the top of your head, swaying you back and forth, “but I’m going to miss you both more. You better take pictures every day. I don’t want to miss anything.”

“Every day, I promise.” Something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. A tiny little box nestled in Elena’s fist, hand waving it back and forth in front of her face. “Hey baby girl, what do you have? Can Mommy see?”

Legs kicked, kicked, kicked in her cozy little sleeper, her happy cooing sounds growing louder the closer you got. And then you dropped down onto the floor, leaning over to give her a giant smooch on the cheek, prying those pinchy fingertips from around the box, and replaced it with a rattle toy so she didn’t end up bawling.

Once Elena was satisfied, you lowered yourself down onto your bottom, thumb brushing over the velvet material. Eddie’s voice was warm behind you, “Open it, Buttercup.”

“Eddie…”

“Told you I couldn’t tell you all my secrets.”

Too stunned to do much of anything, much less speak, Eddie joined you on the ground, hand curling around Elena’s foot as she continued to huff and kick, the only sounds in your home her rattle and the clanging of your heart in your chest. Eddie took it upon himself to take the box from you, flipping the lid open to reveal a solitaire diamond on a thin gold band. Your hands cupped your mouth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you choked out a sob.

“A little over a year ago I fell in love with a woman in a Princess Buttercup costume. You quickly became everything to me, even when you didn’t know it. There is no doubt in my mind that I wa —”

“Yes,” you whimpered, tears streaming down your cheeks now, Elena’s rattle growing louder with the fury of her movements.

“I didn’t finish,” Eddie laughed, grabbing your left hand in his, plucking the ring out of the box. It hovered over your finger for a moment as he continued, “You are my best friend, the mother of my child, and the love of my life. And I’d be a really lucky guy if you’d become my wife too.”

Your reply was a nodded cry of ‘yes’ and he pushed the ring up onto your finger, sliding it flush against the knuckle. It was a perfect fit. Arms circled his neck as you practically leaped onto his lap, giggling as his arms wound right around your waist and tugged you flush against him, lips sliding over yours.

Elena, seemingly unhappy with not being the main focus of all her parent’s attention, tossed the rattle onto the ground and cried. Pouty bottom lip wobbling as tears spilled down plush cheeks, her father was there to the rescue as you shifted off him to unbuckle her and pull the baby onto his lap, bouncing her until she giggled again.

“Someone was a little jealous,” you teased her, poking at her belly, “he was mine first, little missy, so you’re going to have to get used to sharing.”

He was yours. And you were his. From that very moment on Halloween, even if you hadn’t known it back then.

Eddie pretended to chomp on her baby cheeks, earning a loud, bursting round of giggles from his daughter. “Your mommy said she’d marry me. How does that sound, Elena?”

She shoved her fingers into her gummy mouth.

“I guess she’s happy,” you laughed, lifting her up onto your hip, clambering onto your feet. You held aloft your left hand, wiggling the glittering diamond as Eddie appeared at your side with a hand at your waist. “I love you and I can’t wait to marry you.”

“I love you.”

——

After a conversation later that night spent tangled in bedsheets, you quickly realized neither of you wanted to wait to get married. In a spur of the moment decision, you’d suggested a trip to get a marriage license that next morning, and that same day you were given the green light to go ahead with your nuptials at the local courthouse.

In the end, it had been a private affair just a few days later. Wayne was there as a witness, standing with your daughter in his arms as you and Eddie recited vows to one another. Made promises to uphold for the rest of your lives, in sickness and in health, until death did you part. You cried as Eddie breathed life into those words, as he declared those promises, and he silently cried as you echoed them back, sliding a simple gold band onto his ring finger.

Mr. and Mrs. Munson.

Later, you arrived at home to find all your closest friends packed within, there to celebrate the newly wedded couple. Chrissy, finally showing with her second baby, had gone all out and decorated as much as she could, and Robin directed the flow of traffic to the food buffet table.

Everyone took turns toasting to the Munson’s, reminiscing on memories they had about the two of you, both alone and together, and celebrating love. The room was full of it. All glowing faces under candlelight, friends and family alike enjoying the closeness and community.

Every so often you snuck glances over at your new husband, bent in conversation with one of his bandmates, his fingers wiggling in a wave your way.

Husband. It sounded so crazy to think after all this time that was what he was. You’d chosen one another now and forever. Decided that you were going to nurture and grow this relationship for the rest of your lives.

Your family.

That night, after your guests left and Steve and Chrissy took Elena for the evening, Eddie loved you gently in the dim light of your bedroom. Tenderly. Fingers curled with yours against your pillow, the room filled with soft sighs and rolling hips seeking the pinnacle of pleasure. He kissed you slowly, held you tightly as you shattered around him, tucked you away from the rest of the world. Whispered he loved you, punctuated kisses against your face and shoulders with sweet nothings.

Head nuzzling your neck as you both drifted back to earth, he asked, “How does it feel finally being Mrs. Munson?”

Right.

It felt right.

——

Two and a half years later…

——

The stage was bathed in dark shades of maroon and red, the anticipation on eager faces awaiting the last song of a sold out concert a ripple that rose with every passing second. Hands reached out to touch him and his bandmates, a sea of screaming fans huddled before him, and yet his heart only searched out one face. Fingers pressed against strings, the feeling familiar, so practiced, a part of him just as simple as breathing.

A spotlight drifted toward center stage, illuminating his bandmates. His friends. His family. Jeff passed him a knowing smile, Gareth grinned devilishly, and Murphy nodded his head. He’d never be here, standing on this stage, in a crowd of tens of thousands were it not for them — for the years of blood, sweat, and tears. The sacrifices made.

And then, as the room rose in volume, cheering grew louder and louder, Eddie’s eyes drifted off toward the side of the stage. Found you there, his wife, the love of his life, glowing with your support of him as always, lips tugged into the proudest of grins. You were beautiful, wearing his Corroded Coffin band logo across your chest, with a floral skirt fluttering with your every movement falling against your thighs.

In your arms, against your hip, you bounced his newest little. Benjamin Munson, nearly four months old now, with a giant pair of headphones atop his curly head of hair. You swayed him back and forth, one hand curled around his tiny fist like you were dancing, the baby’s eyes transfixed on the stage.

To your right, playing furious air guitar, head banging in all her curly headed glory with a matching pair of headphones to her baby brother, stood his now three-year-old, Elena. His first baby, the one who made him a father, the second love of his life, one of the pieces of his heart. You reached down to brush your fingers over her head, Elena’s head tipping upward just enough, eyes twinkling and dimples that mirrored Eddie’s as she looked across the stage and saw her father standing there with a broad smile on his face.

She smiled back in wonder, always so full of love. He never understood it — how much he could love someone who was a part of him, someone who he’d had a hand in creating, how much they could love him back. How his daughter looked to him like he was her whole world, her hero. But he lived every day trying to be worthy of it, knowing he was.

The first notes of his guitar rang out onto the stage, head bowing, eyes closed. He pictured your smiling face, sitting there in that darkened bar on Halloween. Could see you, just as the crowd roared to life, pulling out a stool and joining him at that table. It was easy to do so, being back in the city where he first fell in love with you tonight. You’d smiled at him, and it had been all over for him, from that very moment.

It was that same smile he saw when his head lifted and he looked your way once more, your beaming face, love and support grounding him in this moment, doing the thing he loved most with the people he loved most.

And as the final note rang out, clear and true into the magnetic energy of the crowd, surrounded by all the people he loved, his dreams now his real life — he knew he’d do it all over again, if only to end up right here in this moment.

Infinite.

——

You left the concert with the promise that Eddie would meet you and the kids back at the hotel once he’d signed endless autographs and merchandise to make his hands hurt. By the time he slipped into the hotel room, you were propped up beside Elena in bed, her eyes locked on whatever cartoon you managed to find on the television.

Ben rested in the crook of your arms, hand against your chest, freshly fed and looking like he’d fall asleep at any moment. Eddie always pleaded with him to stay up so he could wish him goodnight. Not that the baby understood, merely blinking at his goofy dad in reply.

You watched a smile stretch across your husband’s features when he noted the long lashes that fluttered against the tiny face that was shaped so much like his fathers, you’d jokingly cried, “Figures I do all the work and you look like your dad” in the hospital the day he was born as they’d laid him in your arms.

While Ben was serene and serious faced most of the time, Elena was still your giggly and boisterous little girl. Eddie’s twin in every way personality wise, though her features screamed you.

Said little girl hopped up onto the bed despite you telling her she shouldn’t be jumping on it. Ben stirred in your arms as Eddie dropped his things at the door and held his arms up like a Tyrannosaurus Rex, growling, “Daddysaurus is hungry and demands kisses.”

A routine. This had become a routine for them the past few weeks after Elena decided she loved everything dinosaur related. Eddie, wanting to encourage her desires wherever they lay, bought her countless dinosaur toys, books and stuffed animals to engage her curious mind. And then “Daddysaurus” became a thing and you were sure your daughter loved her father even more because of it.

Your big, lovable dork of a husband leaned down and wrapped his arms around his daughter’s middle, flipping her up onto his shoulder, their laughter echoing in the hotel room. Elena squealed in her excitement, hair spilling across his shoulders as she dangled upside down, his fingers wiggling at her sides.

Once properly tickled, he dropped her down onto his hip and kissed her cheek, beaming as her little hand settled against his chest and her head leaned onto his shoulder. “Miss you, Daddy.”

“I’m here now,” he reassured her, “it’s your bedtime though. How about you go potty and we’ll come help you get ready for bed, okay?”

“Do I hav’ta?” she whined, fingers twined in his curls, pouting when you nodded. God, your heart swelled every time she did that. “Benny sleeps too?”

“Yeah, baby, Ben is going to sleep too,” Eddie told her, lowering her down onto the bed.

Elena, still having no perception of how chaotic she could often be, jumped down to the ground and stirred Ben from the half-slumber he’d found himself in, before running off into the bathroom and slamming the door a little too loudly.

Chuckling, you handed Benjamin to Eddie, “You were amazing tonight. As usual.”

He grinned, arms coming up to cradle the baby in his arms, rocking him back and forth to soothe. “Helps that I had my biggest fans in the crowd. Hottest one, too. Wanted to flip her skirt up after the show in the green room.” He added that with a wink.

“Not while the kids are around,” you hissed, but heat still burned low in your belly all the same, craving the next time you’d be able to have some alone time. Luckily that would be tomorrow, when Micah and Jeremiah took them for a few hours so you could explore the city you’d fallen in love in years ago. “He did really well for his first concert.”

Eddie tugged the baby closer, pressing a kiss to his brow. “Is that right, Benny Boy? Just wait — in a year or so I’ll teach you how to play too. Just like your sister. We can start our own band.”

“Don’t tell the guys that they’re getting replaced,” you laughed, palm curling up and over his broad shoulder as he settled down beside you on the bed. Cuddled up to his side and staring down at your sweet baby boy, you added, “Robin and Vickie called. Chrissy and Steve had another girl.”

“Poor guy is in trouble. Three girls.” Eddie whistled, running his index finger along Ben’s slackened bottom lip, little sighs falling from the baby.

“Heard from my publisher too. We finally solidified the release date on my next book.”

He leaned over and kissed you, forehead resting against yours. “I’m so proud of you, Buttercup.”

All your dreams were coming true — together.

Every day you loved him a little more than the one that came before.

You had your two beautiful babies.

Your family.

Your friends.

Life was good.

“How about you put him down for the night and I go check on our girl?” you asked, just as Ben finally slackened in his father’s arms, lost to the waking world.

Eddie nodded, happy to do so, whispering sweet words to his littlest love as you made your way over to the bathroom, peeking in to find Elena already finishing up pulling on her pajamas. “Look at you. Such a big girl. How about we go lay down and get ready for a bedtime story? I bet if you ask Daddy real nice he’ll tell you a good one.”

A tiny fist came up to rub at adorable doe-eyes as you carried your daughter back to the bedroom, finding Eddie sprawled out on the bed, the comforter drawn back to make room for the two of you to scramble on in.

Elena, naturally, untangled herself from you and rushed past in her hurry to plaster herself to her father like a starfish. Limbs all sprawled across his form, trying to be as close as possible. His hand slid up and over her back, locking her against his chest. After brushing a final kiss to Ben’s forehead and wrapping him within a blanket from where he lay in his portable crib, you tucked against Eddie’s opposite side, head over where his heart thumped steadily within.

“Missed my favorite girls,” Eddie said, kissing the tops of both your heads.

Your fingers stretched across his chest to tangle with Elena’s, giving her a little squeeze as she sleepily asked, “Story now?”

His laugh rumbled beneath your ear. “Yeah, what kind of story tonight? The one about the bears maybe — or the one about Mr. Turtle?”

“New one please?” She shrugged, nuzzling further into Eddie’s chest.

“How about I tell you the story about the day your Mommy and Daddy met?”

Her eyes sparkled in the darkened hotel room, head rising and falling rapidly.

“Once upon a time, there was a giant Halloween party in a beautiful…uh, castle. A traveling minstrel — which is a fancy word for a musician — looked across the room and spotted the most beautiful princess in all the land…”

He told her the story of Halloween.

He told her the story of where it all began.

He told her the story of your love.

——

well, this is the end. thank you so so much everyone for all of your lovely comments every week, all of our conversations and just generally thank you for loving this story as much as i have. cannot wait to share the next eddie stories i have planned with you all. and please please — if you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know. it means the world to content creators, and i love getting to chat with you all. until next time, xoxo - luna. 🩷🩷

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie munson x pregnant!reader

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deanbrainrotwritings · 3 months

Text

— CELEBRATION DAY

SUMMARY : cowboy Dean, that’s it! yeah, yeah, I’ve got a thing.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), blowjob (mentioned), handjob, unprotected p in v, angst, fluff

WORD COUNT : 5.9k

A/N : led zeppelin song title. omg, I wanna thank my big brothers for watching Supernatural when I was little. I never woulda met Dean’s gorgeous, galaxy freckled face, green-eyed sparkle sparkle, majestic body, honey hair, smirky, pillow lip prince—what was I saying? oh yeah, I love Dean, happy birthday to the man I’ve loved the longest 💗

Dean didn’t think the whole month of January could get any better.

Everyday Y/n left a gift for him somewhere around the bunker for him to find. It was like the Twelve Days of Christmas song, but so much better.

He was really pretty sure she was stealing most of them.

On the first day, a pin up style calendar, but instead of random women, it was her and all his favourite kinks and fetishes. If he could, he’d say he loved her in every language that exists. It’s the only way for him to show that he truly means it. At least he thinks so.

On the second day, he received seven different types of necklaces that she thought he’d look prettiest in, but one stood out. One that he’d offhandedly shown interest in when they were window shopping to walk off the effects of caffeine in her system. The love letter smelled of coffee and recounted the feelings she had watching him be so domestic.

On the third day, she gave him a Street Fighter arcade game perfect for his Dean Cave. He swore he’d beat her, but he didn’t have the heart to do so, and let her KO him (she already knew what he was doing).

On the fourth day, she got him a new, stainless steel watch. She attached a small love letter addressed to him, the last words were spoken by the Doctor: You waited long enough. Time and time again, with her by his side, he yearned for normalcy, a family, getting out. For some reason, an object that measured time symbolised their endless love, a promise that made him breathless.

On the fifth day, he was given seven different rings. The letter for this gift said something along the lines of: I need to practise proposing. And you didn’t say no, so this is going great. He chuckled at that. He’d never say no to her, especially not to marriage.

On the sixth, she gave him a porn magazine, starring : her. He found it in the library when she sent him to pick up a book for her. A magazine like one belonging to Playboy that drove him crazy every day that he remembered what was in it. And that tiny love letter she put inside… He hoped no one would put their hands on that one. It was for his eyes only.

On the seventh, a black 1962 corvette that she put together with the help of her older brother. To say Dean was impressed was an understatement, despite all those times he taught her how to put the Impala back together, he was both turned on and fascinated with her work. And obviously they, uh, christened it. Or whatever.

On the eighth, she surprised him with twelve books he’d intended to read for such a long time, but never got around to searching for them. Shane; Whiskey When We’re Dry; Lonesome Dove; Blood Meridian. Were some of the titles he recognised and he was more than thrilled to dive into them and relax completely as reality faded around him.

On the ninth, she gifted him a new cowboy outfit. She put that in the room where he kept all the costumes he wore. The material was more original, with amazing quality—aka, not cheap. A whole bunch of Hecho en Mexico tags that he’d ask her to read to him—in Spanish of course. For reasons. (And that love letter he found in the inner pocket also needed to be read in Spanish, too.)

On the tenth, he got to open a giant box of Scooby snacks. Here and there, there were a few of his other favourite snacks, but there were mostly Scooby snacks that he’d been munching on ever since.

The eleventh, the gift he received were seven different bracelets. According to the love letter, they were gifts to keep him bound to her only.

The twelfth, a brand new espresso machine. That was simply found by him in the kitchen, new, with an olive-green bow and a small lover letter. All that yummy coffee he gets to consume in the morning with her, trying it out together. Two coffee addicts in love. Nothing better.

The thirteenth, the gift was going to an amuent park together. They ate too many foods, went on all—if not most—of the rides, took a hundred photos, tried on the silly clothes, played the games—mini-golf, go-carts… He was exhausted as soon as they got inside the Impala. So, it was a last minute decision to stay at a nearby hotel for the night. It was the best sleep he had in ages.

The fourteenth, a large journal in multitudes of journaling styles detailing things she loved about him that particular day or something he did that made her smile. It was cheesy, but very beautiful. The care and attention to detail made Dean’s heart lurch in his chest. From the cute bullet journal style, to the more than accurate drawings of him, and sophisticated details about things he didn’t know about himself, his habits, or other things he did. It was a collection of her love for him, which somehow made any fears evaporate like steam in a shower.

The fifteenth, forty-five new sets of socks with cute and/or funny prints. And she was prepared with a new drawer for all of them to fit, rolled up perfectly like… well, whatever delicious meal she had planned just as he liked. Enchiladas. Yummy. And a new love letter shoved inside a sock to make him blush and smile boyishly.

For the sixteenth day, it was four cassette mixtapes of all the songs they listened to when they went on some of their most meaningful dates and that played in the most memorable, intimate moments of their lives. Now it made sense why she was thrilled to learn and watch him prepare the mixtape he made for Cas. (It was better afterwards when his skills and patience were more than noticed by her and she—anyway, it was hot sex.) As for the love letter, it was profoundly clear that she wanted to praise and show she recognised his expertise, intelligence, and skill (not that she hasn’t praised him for it before).

For the seventeenth day, he got a Katana. He didn’t need it, he didn’t even know he wanted it until he held it in his hands and unsheathed it. God, that was awesome. Of course he’d probably almost accidentally hurt himself playing around with it, using it unnecessarily in the kitchen—just as an example.

For the eighteenth day, a sex position book with over 300 sex positions to try. It almost offended him, but after looking through a few pages, he was convinced that she was right and they needed to try some of the kinkier positions.

For the nineteenth day, she handed him a lengthy collection of mint condition Batman comic books. He was so not cool about that, gushing and grinning, holding her tightly until she pushed him away to breathe properly.

For the twentieth day, he received some new vinyl records of his favourite songs from his favourite bands to nearly complete his collection of music. And as always, he found a love letter relating to the gift she gave to him where she’d ‘hid’ the vinyls above his desk.

For the twenty-first: an old photo album filled with photos he’d never seen from his childhood and up to last year. Some he never even remembered living, but they did skip a few memories that made him smile sadly. She confessed she got Cas to take her back into the past to sneakily take pictures of him and everything he lived through. It was oddly… endearing. Then, she gave him an empty photo album, only their New Year’s kiss was placed inside a protective, plastic pocket. Ready to be filled by him, this time around.

For the twenty-second, a custom made Batman costume. The story for this one was that she made a deal with one of Charlie’s old LARPing friends: if she got rid of a ghost in his house, he’d make her the costume. And after that, she got one of the Dean’s from another universe to act as the model for the measurements Charlie’s old friend took to make the costume fit him perfectly. There were a few ideas Dean had regarding that costume, and he’s more than a hundred percent sure Y/n’s been thinking the same thing ever since he tried it on.

For the twenty-third, a twelve month pie subscription, obviously on National Pie Day. And he got to try the first one that day, rhubarb pie that made his mouth water as soon as the sticky insides made contact with his taste buds. How many times does he have to say he’s lucky in his mind?

And today, he had yet to find out.

He was spoiled.

Lavishing in her love for the past twenty-four days—more so than usual, soaking in it like the waffles he drowned in syrup for breakfast in the morning.

Right after his birthday blowjob as soon as he woke up.

He ate those soft, perfectly crunchy, warm waffles in bed while basking in the golden afterglow of his orgasm. Breathless and dazed, he didn’t worry about a single thing as he moved from one waffle to the next, eating his favourite fruits, jams, chocolate chips, maple syrup, honey… all the things she knew he loved indecisively.

And while she licked her lips clean of his cum, he licked his lips clean of whipped cream.

God, he was lucky.

She was awesome. More than awesome.

There were no words he could find to describe her.

The only problem with today was that he wasn’t gonna be the centre of just her attention. He could deal with that. He loved it, in fact. What he did not love was having to be the centre of attention with all his friends and family around.

He just felt… maybe… shy. Embarrassed? Old?

He wasn’t used to it. Not to that kind of attention from his friends, anyway. As much as they loved him and as much as he loved them. It was different. New.

He was anxious about it.

It was usually a phone call, a text, or nothing. He was fine with that. He didn’t really care. He was always hunting before. They were always busy with their hunts or their lives and birthday were always… whatever.

He was used to Y/n. To the way she loved him. Worshipped him, even. Daily. It was almost the same as any other day, except for the gifts—which were grand, more… thoughtful and loving. As if she lived in his brain and heart, digging through his wishes and dreams to find the perfect gift to make him feel special. Something that lasted, something to be used, something to be loved by him.

He was used to Sam. To the occasional, remorseless thieving of his little brother to get him what he thought he’d like. The singular, impactful gifts or the silly-joke gift he gave first to trick him into thinking it was something meaningless, thoughtless. The pat in the back, the hug, the pie, the childish decoration, the alcohol… a typical sibling birthday party meant to be laughed at.

He was getting used to Cas. To the overuse of emoticons in the birthday text. The awkwardness in the hug before it settled and became comfortable to do. The thoughtful gift he recieved, something Dean mentioned whenever they hung out—even if it was ridiculous. Cas could get it. He’s an angel. And the best friend Dean could ever ask for.

Jack… was, well, he’s Jack. He tried to copy Cas, Sam, Y/n. A mixture of all of the things they did, taking notes of what they were up to, finding something that was… him and not all of them. Dean’s heart softened and he cut Jack some slack, appreciating the effort, the thought he put into it, even if sometimes it was… bad.

But now, some of his closest friends would be making their way to him and he was just not prepared for all of that.

What he was prepared for, was his girlfriend’s skillful ability to make a larger-than-necessary Rice Krispies Treat cake just for him. She liked it as much as he did now, replacing the traditional birthday cake—she wasn’t much of a cake fan. But his stomach’s heart did love those tres-leches cakes.

Dean got dressed up as a cowboy as soon as Sam left to help Eileen prepare for the mini birthday party. He knew it did things to Y/n, even if she refused to admit it to him every time he brought it up or teased her about it.

He tried to cling to her the whole day.

He failed.

She was up to secret stuff.

He only got to be in her presence when she cooked or as she decorated the library where they’d later be embarrassing him with their loving attention. He helped her with all of that, of course—despite her protests. He’d hold her for a few minutes, kiss her a little bit, and then he’d follow behind her as if he couldn’t find anything better to do himself.

He watched her pull out game after game, after game, and set it down on different tables. Cards Against Humanity. Loteria. UNO. Bingo. A few other classics, some from his childhood. And she was texting Sam the whole time for the location of each game, where to set it, agreeing on some and putting others away.

Dean didn’t mind. As long as there was something that took most of the attention away from him and towards something else.

He played with the die from one of the games as he followed her around. His eyes traced over colourful candles, little horns to blow funny sounds out of, balloons, string, paper, confetti, banners, funny hats and glasses, and a dozen other items and decorations that made him feel like a kid again.

Dean liked to watch her, and she liked watching his reaction to whatever she pulled out of the plastic bags he remembered watching Sam and Jack coming in with a few days ago.

Dean was happy once she was done and finally resting from all the planning and tasks she was completing. She’d play with the buttons on his suit jacket by buttoning and unbuttoning them boredly as she took a break before heading off to the next activity.

After she made the cake, she made extra for both of them to snack on—even though she’d also given him a piece before she prepared the Rice Krispies treat. The two of them waited for their friends to get to the Bunker and ate the small slice while watching a random movie on the television.

Dean started to wonder what his brother would be getting him. Or Cas. Jack. Claire. Jody. Donna. Oh. He wanted to be sucked up into the couch, no, into Y/n’s soul. Just the thought of receiving a gift from everyone other than the people who currently lived in the Bunker made him flustered and embarrassed.

He had no doubts the gifts would be good. Still, there was something about gifts and birthday parties that made him… uncomfortable. As much as he loved each and every single one of them, as much as he secretly adored being loved.. it felt like asking too much, even if this was all their idea.

Even though he would do this and so much more for them.

Dean didn’t know they were up to this until last week when Sam randomly brought it up. Y/n jumped on board immediately, then Jack did, and Cas. Jack and Cas were in charge of buying the snacks, which Dean appreciated because Sam tended to get distracted and would forget to buy some of the most important items—according to Dean, of course. The pie, being the main item.

Dean realised that neither he nor she were really paying attention to the movie. Their plates laid abandoned on the table next to the green leather couch they sat on. The cowboy hat was abandoned on Dean’s bed. She was tucked into the corner with one leg propped up in it with the other dangling over the edge. Dean settled on his back in between her legs with his head on her shoulder.

That was just the first step in seducing her.

He wondered if he’d get more lottery tickets from everyone. If they’d bring some of the funniest, endearing birthday cards where they had to change the main title to for his age because he had the taste of a kid. He hoped they wouldn’t do something illegal like he knew Y/n and Sam were doing to make this the best birthday party for him. (Though, Dean was generally feeling pretty smug about their naughtiness.)

He wouldn’t mind repeated gifts at all, as in… if Claire wanted to go mini-golfing with him and gave him another ticket… or if Jack simply wanted to try fishing with him again. He’d love that. To spend time with them. The people he cared most about.

He played with her slim fingers, traced her knuckles, and teased the soft skin of her arms with his fingertips when she slipped them around his waist. He lifted her hands up to his lips, worshipping one thoroughly with his lips, warming them up for her.

Her other hand rested over his chest where his heart was beating rapidly at the thought of what he wanted. Her hand laid still for a few seconds before she began to play with the buttons of his white dress shirt, then tapped her mossy-green nails against the ovaloid metal buckle of his belt.

He dropped her hand gingerly to let her play with his clothes using both of her hands and he took to tracing her legs with his fingers over thick, warm pyjamas. He could feel her body release the tension of her stress, and for a moment, he smiled softly and felt his body do the same thing.

When he turned to look at her, she glanced away from his chest where she was gently scratching his shirt to make the funny sound of cloth being scraped. He kissed her when she smiled at him, one small peck, not entirely innocent.

The movie was long forgotten soon after that. Not that they were paying attention to it before anyway.

Dean scooted up slightly to kiss her properly with one hand on her jaw, his fingers entwined through her soft hair, bringing her plush lips closer to his. It was unhurried, lazy, the slow build from firm, deep kisses, to demanding, heated ones that caused a blush to flare up their faces.

Breathlessly, she began unbuttoning his shirt while he unbuckled his belt, but they continued kissing. His tongue slipped between her sweet lips, tasting more sweetness from the marshmallow and rice treat they ate not long ago.

She brought the white t-shirt up his chest—excruciatingly slow—when she fully unbuttoned his dress shirt. Her fingertips slipped up the soft flesh of his tummy, his toned and freckled chest, then she flattened her palm over his rapidly thudding heart. Leisurely, she smoothed her hand down his soft, slightly scarred skin, brushing past the fine, blonde hair trailing down beneath his belly button.

Dean moaned into her mouth and impatiently lifted his hips from the couch. She snuck her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers and curled her fingers around the base of his hardening length. Dean gasped against her kiss-swollen lips and closed his eyes tightly, promptly rolling his hips to push his cock through her fingers.

“You look so hot like this,” she whispered against the corner of his lips. Dean squirmed and spread his legs when he planted his feet flat on the floor to aid each of his thrusts. Gently, she placed her other hand around his neck to tip his head back and to the side to place a feverish kiss to his cracked, pillowy lips.

She continued moving her hand along his length, from root to tip, playing with the precum that began to accumulate and stain the cotton of his underwear.

Dean’s chest rose and fell quickly with each breath, attempting to hold off his orgasm. His thighs tensed, muscles constricting beneath thin dress pants as she twisted her hand up and down his cock inside his slacks and boxers. His lips moved desperately against hers and he swiped his tongue across hers, his brows furrowed in mind-numbing pleasure.

Dean’s fingers dug into her thighs on either side of his body, trying to keep himself stable as his hips bucked up into her hand, driving his cock faster through her fingers. Her hand squeezed at the sides of his neck and released to make his brain fuzzier, neurons hazed with lust and need.

“Please… I wanna be inside you, baby,” Dean panted against her lips as she kissed him. Instead, she rapidly continued to tug at his cock, her fist wrapped tightly around him until he felt like exploding. “I can’t- please- I need you,” he begged, but never dared to stop her as her lips trailed away to his jawline, to suck a dark mark on the sensitive skin of his neck.

She suddenly loosened her grip on his cock and slowly slid her slick palm up the front of his body. His orgasm began to fade away and his body slumped against hers, his chests heaving with each breath, his heart racing. Her lips brushed against his earlobe, “you’re right…” she murmured.

“A-about what?” He mumbled, lifting himself up to turn and face her. She was smiling at him when he gazed at her, her eyes soft and full of love, mirroring the much more dishevelled expression on his own, pink face.

Her eyes flickered away from his dewy green eyes when he leaned into her. He watched them travel up his body, from his thigh pressing into the leather next to her leg, to his boxers shoved low on his hips, exposing curly, light brown hair, his unzipped slacks and therather belt hanging losing around his hips, up to the opened dress shirt and t-shirt beneath draped haphazardly over his chest, and then her eyes stopped at his mouth.

She tilted her head and met him the rest of the way to press her lips against his, placing a soft, adoring peck. “I do think cowboys are fucking hot, especially you,” she smirked, scratching gently at the nape of his neck, playing with the tiny hairs behind his head.

Dean bit his lip, mirroring her expression, and hummed, “is that right?” She nodded, her other hand slipping down to tease the waistband of his boxers. Dean’s calloused hands travelled up her sides, sneaking beneath her long-sleeved shirt, up warm, soft skin. “I already knew, just wanted to hear you say it.”

She laughed shortly, allowing Dean to lift her thick shirt up and off her body. Dean’s lips came down to her neck, hot and open-mouthed kisses flushing her skin. His hands traced her sides and eventually hooked at the top of her leggings to pull down the material covering her legs. He carefully let her lay down as she shifted to fully remove her leggings and underwear.

But she sat upright once more before Dean could settle between her warm legs. Dean remained fully clothed and he laughed against her breasts when she impatiently shoved his slacks and boxers lower. His hands remained firmly on her body, exploring inches of familiar skin—squeezing, pulling, and holding.

His soft lips moved over the expanse of her chest, teeth nibbling on sensitive flesh, his wet tongue tasting her velvety skin. Her hands made their way down past his cock to cup his balls, which made Dean’s brow rise in pleasant surprise, his mouth freezing around her nipple.

He moaned around her skin and brought his own hand down between her legs as his cock bobbed excitedly. Warm slick coated his fingertips when he slid his fingers through her folds. With a pleased hum, she reached back to grip the wooden handle of the couch, and gently pressed her palm against his balls.

He played with her clit, coating it in her arousal, then buried his middle finger inside her. She bit her lip and arched her back, a jolt from his thumb pressing into her clit causing her to moan. She removed her hand from between his legs—much to his disappointment—to dig her nails into his taut thigh.

Dean dragged his tongue across her chest to attend to her other breast and dipped a second finger into her. Her pussy fluttered around his scissoring fingers, she whispered his name, moving her legs over his hips in a more comfortable position. Her hand slid up to bunch up in his shirt as her thighs twitched, screwing her eyes shut as the pleasure dazed her.

Her shift in position brought her centre closer to him and he pushed a third finger into her, working her open thoroughly, expertly. Her wetness drenched his thick fingers, making every push and pull swift and easy. They curled inside her, rubbing delectably at her g-spot, pressing delightfully into the most sensitive parts of her walls. Her toes curled and she lifted herself up higher in his lap, implicitly urging him to skip to the fucking.

Dean instantly did as she wordlessly requested and pulled his glistening fingers out of her warmth. He stroked his cock a few times, first, watching her watch him coat himself in her excitement. He looked back down between their flushed bodies when he began moving his cock through her dewy folds, moaning contentedly at the sensation of her against him.

She unclenched her hand from his shirt to bring up behind his neck, her delicate fingers slipping between short hairs. Finally, Dean pushed himself into her deliberately, then out gradually. Over and over they created a rhythm.

With one foot on the floor and his knee pressing into the backrest, his hands gripping her hips tightly. His lips connected to any part of her he could reach, moaning and gasping softly against her skin with every clench of her pussy, every measured thrust to feel every inch of her slide across his cock.

Her arm flexed behind her as she moved with Dean, her fingers gripping the wooden arm of the couch tightly, timing each roll of her hips with his. Occasionally, she met every one of his thrust and brought his face closer to her with her fingers curled around the back of his neck.

His breath dampened her already steamy skin and his hands started to wander lovingly over her shiny body, feeling the exertion of her muscles beneath his calloused palms.

Gradually, they began to move faster against each other.

Dean’s body built up more heat with the clothes still covering every inch of him. His mouth went dry with every open-mouthed breath and he searched for her lips as a tingle ran up his spine, his stomach clenching to foreshadow his impending orgasm.

He felt her breath against his lips and her fingers moved deeper into his hair, tugging so his mouth fell open. Her lips moved over his, her wet tongue bringing moisture back into his mouth, and over his chapped lips. Dean kissed her back with so much more force, easing his tongue into her mouth when she pulled hers out to smirk into the kiss.

He squeezed her ass, painfully pressing his fingers into her back, desperately trying to feel her against his body. He fucked into her briskly, with strong thrusts that pressed his cock deeper into her channel until she squirmed from how good it was. He swallowed her pleased groan and brought her closer with his arm around her waist and his palm flat against her back.

Dean’s thrust became erratic, every slam of his hips and every roll of hers made contact with her clit, bringing her close to the edge with him. Every touch of each other’s bodies, every hot and lewd kiss, every heavy and fast breath, every breathless and pleasured sound, every wet and hot sensation built up like volatile chemicals.

With a few final thrusts, Dean came with a groan of her name by her ear. She squeezed his cock tightly and cursed at the sensation of his hot cum coating her insides. Her thighs pressed into his hips as she orgasmed with a sharp gasp, clinging to him as they rode out their climax.

Dean ground his hips up into her, keeping himself deep inside her as she shook and held him in a tight embrace. Their lips met once more for a softer, more elated kiss as they became blanketed in the afterglow of their release. She released the wooden arm of the couch to cup Dean’s scruffy jaw and Dean’s arms circled around her waist.

He moved backwards carefully and laid her down onto her back, allowing her to fully wrap her legs around his waist. Dean shoved his suit jacket and dress shirt off as they kissed. She smiled against his mouth and let him pull away fully from her lips to watch him throw both items onto his bed.

“It was cold before, but it’s hot now,” he muttered, pulling his t-shirt up over his head by the back of the neck. She giggled and brought her hands to his ass, moving his pants and underwear lower, past his thighs.

“Well…” she trailed off, gazing at him as he slowly pulled his cock out of her. “Hey,” she pouted, moving his attention away from the mess between her legs and the mixture of their spendings leaked out of her.

“Uh, yeah?” He grinned, moving off the couch to kick off the cowboy boots, and everything else so he was fully naked before her.

“Your last gift,” she started, looking over to the bed. Before returning to his spot between her legs, Dean followed her eyes and lifted a brow. “It’s under your pillow,” she smiled shyly, looking up at him as his lips parted and then made an ‘o’.

“Awesome,” he murmured, making his way to his side of the bed. He searched underneath with a swipe of his hands beneath the cool pillow and grabbed the small, somewhat heavy box decorated with pink wrapping paper and a silver bow. “What is it?” He asked, shaking it curiously.

She laughed at him, taking the unused napkin from the table to clean herself up, which distracted Dean from his gift. He was about to protest, offering to clean her up, but she laughed. He pouted at her, but settled back in her arms in the same position as before once she finished.

“I really… really hope you like this one,” she whispered against his shoulder. Dean looked back at her and smiled softly—his eyes reassuring her that he’d like anything that came from her. He carefully pulled at one end of the bow to watch it fall apart into a straight line.

He ripped the paper to reveal a wooden box. Dean imagined a necklace, if the thud against the soft cushion inside the box revealed anything about what it actually was.

A ring? He planned on proposing, but he’d say yes if she turned the tables. He smiled at the thought, but he doubted that they were stepped enough into a normal life for that. If it were up to him, he’d have asked her to marry him ages ago.

He opened the box slowly and blinked at the steel key.

“A… key?” He asked out loud, turning his body to look at her as she waited for his reaction anxiously.

“I… bought a house?” She squeaked, her cheeks turning dark. Dean’s lips parted. He wanted to question her, to make a comment about what the place looked like or where it was or how much it cost, to say anything, but his throat tightened and clogged any words from escaping. With his tongue heavy in his mouth, there was no hope to ease her anxiety. He shut it instead. “For you- us. You and me…” she rambled, wrapping her hand around his to shut the box as if it were Pandora’s box—unleashing her deepest fears, but worst of all, her hope.

“I…” Dean trailed off, staring at the wooden exterior of the square container. A little box that would give him the future he’s secretly always yearned for with her. He was too much of a coward to ever do anything and go for it. Her hand moved away from his and she shifted behind him awkwardly, pushing him off her so he’d face her instead.

“You don’t…” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “It’s okay, if you don’t want… this…” She snatched the gift away from him as if she’d show him her deepest secret and had been judged for revealing what it was.

“No! I-I do want this,” Dean reassured her and quickly took it back to open it, and remove the key from inside. He placed it on his palm, cold, small, and light against his sweaty skin. “I just…” His eyes flickered up to hers, the guarded and nearly stony expression on her face twisting his stomach in regret. “I love you,” he breathed, pressing his lips against the corner of her lips.

“Are you sure?” She bit her lip, her eyes dancing over his face to gauge any emotion or shift that would hint to reveal he was truly feeling. “I don’t want you to be unhappy… if you don’t want this, it’s okay. You can tell me. I have a backup gift anyway,” she shrugged casually, moving to sit on her legs next to him.

She gazed at the side of his face as he continued to make her heart plummet with the long stare at the key in his hand.

“Why?” He asked with knitted brows, looking at her. He could tell she felt much more bare and vulnerable as she crossed her arms over his chest and kept herself covered with her own body.

“I didn’t know if I wanted to give it to you just yet,” she admitted. Dean frowned. “But after today… the way you followed me around and helped me.. I changed my mind,” she shrugged again, “but it’s okay if we both want something different, if you’re not ready… you know I’d wait…” She smiled nervously, so it didn’t last, and her mouth returned to a straight line.

“No more waiting, baby.” Dean shook his head and put the key back into the box, leaving it beside him to take her hands. He lifted them both up to his lips, staring into her eyes to demonstrate his earnestness, “you waited long enough.”

“I promise you that I’m ready,” he reassured her, brushing his thumbs against her knuckles. “This gift… it means so much to me. I do, truly, love you.” Dean tugged her hands and she finally laughed, allowing herself to be happy with him. In this moment. And forever. No more waiting.

As he held her, Dean pictured the future they could have together and let his body rest without fear of everything else going on. For once, he’d let himself be happy. It was the one way he could let go of Sam, allowing both himself and his baby brother a shot at a normal life, something Dean wanted for himself and Sam for so long. This was the first step to freedom.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” she whispered against his forehead, kissing the tiny scar that resided there.

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tongue-like-a-razor · 1 year

Note

Heyy bestiee I hope you well! But I was hoping maybe you could do a little thing for roosters brood? Like obviously there daughter is roosters little princess and could do no wrong in his eyes because she’s his only girl but I was wondering if you could like maybe do a little something when the reader and rooster find out that they are having a girl and youse are so shocked in the doctors and the doctors like is something wrong and the reader is like definitely not we have 7 boys im the only woman in the house just some daddy rooster fluff 😍

Aww what a cute request! Since we're in a Rooster's Brood mood, let's do one more XD

Princess Bradshaw

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Pregnant Wife!Reader

Summary: Rooster and his wife find out they're finally having a girl!

CW: pregnancy, ultrasound, fluff, part of the Rooster's Brood universe so....lots of kids

Rooster's Brood | Masterlist

You glance at your husband anxiously and he gives you a calm smile. It says that, no matter what gender the ultrasound shows, he will be the happiest man in the world. You should be happy too; the anatomy scan has indicated that your baby is healthy and growing as expected, and that’s all you could ask for.

But when the sonographer asks you again whether you’d like to know the sex of your eighth child, you hesitate. Bradley is standing near the examination table with his hand on your foot. He gives you a reassuring squeeze.

You nod at Bradley. “We’d like to know.”

The ultrasound technician presses the scanner into your belly and you wince trying to hold in the liter of water you’d been instructed to drink before your appointment. You feel Bradley’s hands close around both your feet as you close your eyes in discomfort.

“Well,” the tech says. “I don’t see a boy.”

Your eyes fly open and, before even looking at Bradley, you whip your head around to look at the sonographer. “What? What does that mean?”

She shrugs, looking at the monitor. “It means it’s a girl.”

You let out a sharp sigh – a sigh of disbelief – and then look back at your husband. Bradley is looking at the screen in shock, as if there is something on it that he could decipher. You watch him slowly bring a hand to his face, covering his mouth. Then, his other hand goes up and suddenly he’s got both hands over his cheeks and a dumbfounded expression on his face. A moment later, his large hands are hiding his face entirely and he’s turning away. He takes a few steps away from the table.

“Bradley?” you say gently.

“Is everything okay?” the tech asks with concern.

“We have seven boys,” you say quietly, not sure how else to relay the significance of this moment.

“Ah,” the tech replies as Bradley finally turns back around.

Even in the darkness of the room, you can see that his eyes are glistening. He sniffs, running a hand under his nose, and then he swallows, watching you with tears in his eyes.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” the tech says, rising from her seat and heading for the door.

The moment she’s gone, Bradley takes two giant steps toward the table and, just as you’re trying to peel your back from its surface, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you so fiercely you almost forget how badly you have to pee.

“A girl, baby,” he whispers, still clutching your face between his palms. “A girl,” he repeats, a slight crack in his voice.

You pull back slightly to meet his gaze. His eyes are still on the wet side as he smiles broadly. “She’s a little troublemaker too,” you say. “Kept bouncing off the walls of my uterus to get away from the scanner. My bladder feels like it’s going to burst.”

Bradley watches you wistfully. “She’ll fit right in, then.”

You smirk back at him. “I have no doubt.”

Bradley puts a hand on your belly just as you finish wiping the gel off. His thumb strokes your abdomen while he gazes lovingly into your eyes. “Thank you,” he says, his eyes filling with tears again. “Thank you for giving me the world.”

You give him a hug and he wraps his arms around you. “Uh, Bradley, I still have to pee.”

Bradley kisses your cheek and says, “Just one more thing.” He helps you off the table and squats down before you have a chance to pull down your shirt, taking a hold of your hips to plant a gentle kiss on your stomach. He looks up at you with a mischievous squint. “One more,” he says, kissing you again.

“Bradley!” you yelp, even though the soft brush of his lips over your bare skin is giving you goosebumps.

“Okay, okay.” Bradley chuckles, standing up.

You rush out of the room with a squeal. When you come out of the bathroom, Bradley is standing outside the door, waiting for you.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he says. “Let’s get you home so I could give you a nice backrub. Unless you want a different kind of massage.” You give him a pointed look while he smirks at you mischievously. When you roll your eyes with a smile and walk ahead of him, he calls out, “What? I meant a foot massage, obviously!”

You glance over your shoulder as he catches up to you. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

He laughs, taking you by the waist and bringing his head down to your face. “Baby, the last thing I want to do is disappoint you.”

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noforkingclue · 1 year

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Anon who asked for some 8th Doctor here. It took me a while to come up with proper phrasing. The Doctor and reader voth have feelings for each other but are oblivious because the Doctor's just a physically affectionate person in general and the reader is a bit on the quieter and shy side, so they both don't notice that the other has feelings since to them, they don't act that much out of character. There's some angsty pining with a happy resolution. Thanks again :)

Yeeeeessss

More Eighth Doctor requests please!!! And more classic!who requests as well!!!

I hope you like the fic :D

Title: Unspoken Words

Doctor Who tag list: @v4n1r, @queerconfusionthings, @yourneighbourhoodclown, @love-of-fandoms, @emilythezeldafan, @fabulous-jj-style, @theseeker945, @pleadingeyes, @kjaneway1, @truthbehindthemysteries, @im-a-muggleborn, @startrekkingaroundasgard, @mythandmagik, @geocookie21, @zerocanonlywriteshit, @thewinterpoet2, @anteroom-of-death, @night467, @clarasoswaldd, @sessa23, @mxacegrey

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

“Y/n, come look at this!”

You couldn’t help but smile at the excitement in the Doctor’s voice as you made your way around the TARDIS console. The Doctor was pointing at the screen and when you were at his side of the console he gently grabbed your arm and pointed at it.

You felt your cheeks get hot as the Doctor dragged you closer and moved so you were standing directly in front of him. He put one hand on the console while the other moved to your shoulder. You hated to admit that the words the Doctor was saying melted into the background at the contact.

Damn you and your massive crush on the man.

The Doctor probably already knew and was just being kind, treating you like any other companion. He wouldn’t want you to know that anything was wrong and that he knew. He would want everything to remain as normal.

“So we’ll be going there then?”

“Huh?”

You looked over at the Doctor and realised just how close your faces were. Your face got even hotter and even the Doctor seemed mildly surprised. It was almost as though he hadn’t realised you were as close as you were. Eventually he coughed and broke eye contact and said,

“So, what do you think? Sound like a good place for a rest?”

“A rest?”

“Beats being shot at by Daleks.”

“Doctor, wherever you go we are bound to be shot at by something.”

“We can always-“ the Doctor said quickly, a panicked look on his face

“But travelling with you wouldn’t be half as exciting as it is if we didn’t!”

“I’m sorry about this,” the Doctor whispered, “Not exactly what I had planned when I said I’d take you to Victorian England.”

You glanced at the Doctor shyly before quickly breaking eye contact again. Despite the Doctor being a very… physical person you had never been this close to him before. The Doctor twirled you around the ballroom again as you whispered back,

“I don’t know. I can imagine worst people to be fake engaged to.”

It was at the moment that you stumbled over the long skirts of your dress. The Doctor’s grip of your waist tightened and he pulled you closer against his chest. You heard soft mumbles from those observing the dancing and you couldn’t tell if it was disapproval or not. It seemed that Victorian high society was very easily offended.

“Still,” the Doctor said, “I should’ve asked first before introducing you as my fiancé.”

“From what I can tell it seemed that you didn’t have much of a choice. Pretend to be engaged or face Victorian stigmatism.”

The Doctor let out an amused chuckle and took a moment to scan the room. When he looked back at you, you were still not making eye contact with him. He felt a pang course through his hearts. He wished that you would just look at him with those beautiful eyes.

Damn his… feelings.

Of course you probably knew about them. Your intelligence was one of his favourite things about you. You could easily tell that his feelings for you was slightly more than friendly. His wish to have you pressed against him, he often had to refrain himself from constantly wrapping his arms around you. The urge to pull you close on every adventure. He had to balance being friendly with being overly friendly. He wouldn’t want to ruin the purely platonic feelings you clearly had for him.

“Still,” your soft voice broke him out of his daydreams, “You’re old. I’m sure this must’ve happened to you on more than one occasion.”

“Oh you know,” the Doctor said vaguely, “Once or twice.”

‘But with no one I’d want to do it again with. At least, until now.’ He thought

Ever since the ball things between you and the Doctor had been different. Not a bad different just… different. You hugged yourself tightly as you walked around the console room. The Doctor was rattling off a list of places and planets but your mind wasn’t on them. You kept thinking back to that night.

“Y/n? Are you listening?”

“Hmm?” it took you a moment to realise that the Doctor had said your name, “Oh sorry. My mind was elsewhere.”

The Doctor sighed and pulled a leaver on the TARDIS. It shuddered and you didn’t need to look outside to know you were floating in deep space.

“Are you ok?” he said

“Yes.”

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know.”

“And… and if you want to go home you only need to say. I won’t stop you.”

“H- home?”

The Doctor was looking down at the console. He glanced up at you before quickly looking away again.

“Home.” You said again

The Doctor gave you a sad, but seemingly accepting smile, and nodded.

“I just want to show you one last thing.”

“Doctor-“

“Please. Just let me do this.”

You remained silent as the TARDIS once again shuddered to life. It lurched to the left and you grabbed the railings to stop yourself falling over. When the TARDIS finally stopped the Doctor walked over to you and held out his hand.

“One last thing.” He said

Reluctantly you put your hand in his as he led you to the TARDIS doors. With a sad smile he flung open the doors. You gasped at the beautiful sight in front of you.

“A birth of a planet,” the Doctor said, his lips ghosting over your cheek, “Millions of years ago.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I know.”

You looked over at the Doctor who wasn’t looking at the sight just outside the TARDIS. His gaze was locked on you. You swallowed thickly and said,

“I don’t want to go home.”

“You don’t have to stay. I don’t want to think that I’m forcing you to stay.”

“You’re not,” you said, “I never wanted to leave in the first place.”

“Oh,” the Doctor smiled at you sheepishly, “Now I feel rather silly.”

“Don’t. Where else would I be able to see this.”

You nudged him playfully and the Doctor seemed to relax. After a moment’s hesitation he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you against him. You rested your head against his shoulder as he rubbed soothing circles against your skin.

Once again you could feel a shift in your relationship. Something unspoken between you but no words were needed. You both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

#fanfiction #doctor who #reader insert #request #the doctor #the doctor x reader #Eighth Doctor #eighth doctor x reader

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newbie-whovian · 2 years

Note

Hey hey it’s me again 😅👉🏼👈🏼

I’ve always loved the concept of current companion meeting past regenerations of the Doctor. So I was wondering if you’d like to play around with that?? (I do prefer a 12 x reader, but honestly do whatever you want, go ham bestie!)

(Hell yeah 👌 lovely to hear from you again! 😁)

Echoes - The Twelfth Doctor x Reader, Featuring The Fourth and Eighth Doctors

Out of everything you knew about the Doctor, the fact that he'd been other people in the past was probably the hardest to grasp. Regeneration had always been a little hard to wrap your head around, and every time he explained it, it somehow got harder to comprehend.

You looked at the Doctor over the console and exchanged a smile when he met your gaze, bracing yourself as the TARDIS landed with a jolt. "Go ahead," he said, checking something on one of the monitors. "I'll be right out." You smirked to yourself as he snapped his fingers to open the door and you stepped outside. "Right out" could mean anywhere from five minutes to three hours, although more often than not, it erred towards the latter.

The TARDIS had landed on an enormous cliffside, looking out over unfathomably tall trees that stretched past the mountains and towards the sky. The branches of these trees were nearly as wide as small buildings, and formed bridges from the various cliffs to the enormous forest ahead. Branches met and formed a web that tangled the trees together, and the winged inhabitants walked along them as if the whole thing were a massive outdoor mall.

You took in the sights with a wide smile, stepping towards the edge of the cliff and the beginning of one of the branches. It looked sturdy enough, but you held your breath slightly as you stepped over to the branch, continuing towards the stalls and tents set up along the walkways. Vendors shouted and held out their wares, showing you jewelry and fabric and various weapons and tools, and you lamented that you should have asked for some pocket money.

You didn't get far into the market, however, when a man in an olive velvet coat and gray slacks stopped in his tracks and made a beeline straight to you.

"Excuse me, but I seem to have misplaced a large blue box, could you help me?" the stranger said, giving you a grin. You had begun to walk away but you paused, saying slowly, “This blue box wouldn’t happen to be called a TARDIS, would it…?”

His face lit up and he said enthusiastically, “Yes!” His smile didn’t dim a single notch as he asked in a voice full of wonder, “How did you know that?”

You gave him a smile and said, “I’ve been around. Where have you already looked?”

A question flashed behind his eyes before he dismissed it with a shake of his head, sending his wavy hair flying around his face. He walked with an undeniable energy, like he was a kid exploring a zoo, and he said as you followed him, “I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself, I’m the Doctor, and you are?”

You stopped in your tracks. He halted after a moment when he realized you weren’t following, turning back with a curious frown and saying, “Have I offended you? You don’t have to tell me your name if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head with a small laugh, saying, “No, no no, you haven’t offended me, it’s just… I didn’t think it was possible for me to be here.” You met his gaze, recognizing some small piece of your Doctor in this stranger’s eyes and allowing yourself a small smile. You offered your name and thought for a second, saying, “We should find your TARDIS.”

He examined your face with an odd half smile dancing around his face before continuing along the branch, a bounce in his step. “Why shouldn’t you be here?” he asked in that strange tone your Doctor always donned whenever he was asking a question he already had an answer for.

“Well, I thought you weren’t supposed to be able to cross your own timeline, was all,” you said, and you didn’t think his smile could get any wider.

“So you travel with me? Or some future version of me, anyway? Or past, it’s entirely possible, this body’s memory isn’t the most reliable,” he rattled off, and you answered him with a finger pressed over your lips.

“Spoilers,” you muttered with a grin. His eyes sparkled with mischief.

As it turns out, he’d left his TARDIS tucked in between two similarly colored tents, and when you pointed it out, his reaction was as if it were Christmas morning. He dashed towards it with a small wave, unlocking it with an oddly shaped pendant around his neck. He was close to disappearing inside before he turned back to face you, beckoning you closer.

You made your way through the stalls and the bustling crowd, and once you were close enough to hear, he said, “I can’t wait to meet you!” You tugged him in for a hug that he returned with a laugh, lifting you off of your feet for a moment before letting you go.

He stepped inside and the doors shut behind him, and you stepped back with a wide smile as his TARDIS began to dematerialize.

You found your Doctor wandering through the market with a concerned look on his face. He gave you a smirk and said, “Of course, the one time I actually mean ‘right out,’ you wander off to Rassilon knows where.” You apologized with a small smile, and he returned it reluctantly. “Should I even bother asking where you ran off to?” he said, heading towards one of the larger groups of tents.

You looped your arm through his elbow and shook your head, resting your head on his shoulder as he let out a sigh.

You’d been put on guard duty, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. You stood across the street from some sort of apothecary, tasked with letting the Doctor know about everyone who came and went. So far, there’d been no one, and it had been almost an hour now. You let out an exasperated groan, crossing your arms and slumping against the wall.

All of the sudden, a tall man wearing an outrageous scarf tore around the corner onto the street, looking around with wide eyes. He caught sight of you, not exactly hard to do, seeing as you two were the only people around, and jogged across the street with that ridiculous scarf coming dangerously close to tripping him.

Before you could get a word in, he said, “Have you seen a young lady about this high?” holding a hand up to his shoulder. You frowned and answered, “No, you’re the first person I’ve seen for about an hour.”

He almost cursed under his breath, burying his hands in his pockets and pulling out a small white paper bag. That bug-eyed gaze stayed locked on the cobblestone street as he offered you the bag, muttering, “Would you like a jelly baby?” You looked into the bag with a puzzled expression, grabbing one of the multi-colored candies and popping it in your mouth. He ate three before the bag disappeared back into his pocket.

“You��re the only other person I’ve seen in this entire town,” he said with something resembling abject fascination in his voice, “The only one.”

“Why do you think that is?” you asked, “I mean, people live here, right?” You looked down at the sidewalk and kicked a pebble into the street. He watched it bounce into a storm drain and said, “That’s not necessarily true, towns can be empty for a number of reasons, none of which are very appetizing at the moment since we both have people we’re waiting for. Although I assume yours at least gave you a bit of an errand before they ran off without a word.”

You frowned and looked at him quickly, saying, “And how do you know that?”

“Why else would we be waiting outside a closed apothecary?” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You crossed your arms and said, “Well yes, the Doctor told me to wait outside this dump and he-”

“The Doctor?” the stranger interrupted, his face lighting up with a smile with entirely too many teeth. “Now that does make things more interesting. You see, I’m the Doctor, and if you’re telling the truth, then there’s another me running around, am I correct?”

You paused before narrowing your eyes at him, and he said, “I suppose you’ll want proof?”

You pause again before saying slowly, “Honestly, I don’t think I know a single other person who could ever be anyone close to you,” giving him a smirk. “And besides, that scarf…”

He gave you an indignant look before flipping the scarf over one shoulder defiantly, saying, “Let’s go, we've got to find Sarah."

"And you!"

"Yes yes, and me I suppose."

#doctor who #doctor who fic #classic who #twelfth doctor #twelfth doctor x reader #12th doctor #12th doctor x reader #eighth doctor #8th doctor #fourth doctor #4th doctor

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xer-melody · 1 year

Text

Rookie

Cullen family x adopted!human!male reader(!platonic!)

Warning: hurt/comfort, three original characters, readers friend sucking, a potential new friend tho, swearing, fighting, blood, getting arrested, mostly Carlisle centered.

Words: 2364

Summary: Y/n Cullen wants to tryout for the Baseball team

(A/n: I’d just like to say fuck Stephanie Meyers. Also this is my first request fill so yay!)

Request by anonymous : Cullen family x adopted!human!male reader hurt/comfort(?) where R wants to try out for the school baseball team, but his friends have little faith in him so he starts to self-doubt. So the rest of the Cullens help their youngest sibling practice and he eventually gets on the team. :)

The Forks High School baseball team had just lost a player. Well, not ‘lost’ but he decided that he'd rather play basketball instead, leaving an open spot on the team just a month and a half before baseball season. And you decided to fill that spot. Last season, tryouts had filled up quicker than anyone could have possibly thought they would, but the entirety of the old team was graduating that year, so with twenty-six spots open, people -most not even knowing how to play- flooded the coach in applications. And in an attempt at management, a team was hastily picked and tryouts were closed before you even got a chance.

While that first season was beyond painful to watch, they've gotten better over the last year, way better.

Ronan leaving the baseball team was, for the most part, a secret, at least for the time being. But he knew you liked to play, so he told you, and while you weren't friends with Ronan, you're glad you were the first he considered to take his spot.

That same day, in between classes, you practically ran to the coach's office and asked for an application.

Turns out applications had changed a bit from last year. Considering the fiasco that was the previous tryouts, he'd made it a bit harder to join. Instead of applications being a simple one-page, name-birthday-signature ordeal like it had been for years, it's become a ten page contract.

‘To weed out the fakers’ he said.

Now you were sitting in the schoolyard on the second to last step of the bleachers, half watching the team practice, half trying to fill out this seemingly never ending application.

“‘Have you ever broken a bone?’ no..” you muttered to yourself, checking off another box among dozens of other tiny boxes.

While the questions weren't particularly hard, there were hundreds of them. And you understood why but goddamnit this used to be so simple.

Leaning back against the beaches you watched as the eighth inning began, short words were exchanged between members as they switched spot, the catcher, a guy named Thomas, let out a playfully excruciating yell as he stood from his squating position for the first time nearly 20 minutes, his teammates laughed, and you let out a small chuckle along with them before returning your attention to the application.

‘Do you have siblings? If so, how many?’ was the next question on the packet.

Another filler question, as many had been, only maybe 20 of the questions retained to your health, or your ability to play.

A few minutes later and you were still answering questions, but kept a mental score of of who did what and how much longer until the ninth inning.

A few more minutes passed and you were nearly done, just a page and a half to go. You could get that done before practice was even over. You clicked your pen as you tried to think when was the last time you went to a doctor that wasn’t Carlisle.

Then, without warning, the application was pulled from your hands.

Looking up you saw the sudo captain of the Forks Baseball team, Apollo, who you only really knew two things about, both his parents were Greek mythology nuts, and despite baseball teams not technically having a captain, he was the captain. He dragged the team out of the mud by himself, and then proceeded to knock every game of the season out of the park.

And for a reason you couldn’t comprehend, he smiled down at you after quickly glancing over your application.

“You joining the team?” He asked, slightly out of breath (he ran across the field to talk to you).

“I’m going to try..” you responded quickly.

He chuckled, leaning up against the fence separating the two of you he said, “That’s good, we need someone like you-” he passed the application back, “You’ve been at basically every practice and game this team has ever had, won’t take you long to get the hang of things.”

“I play with my siblings all the time, playing on this team shouldn’t be too hard..”

At that, his smile widened.

“You’re confident, I like that. Can’t wait to have you on the team..”

He turned as the current right-fielder called him over.

“I expect you to see you at tryouts- on time, alright Cullen?”

“Alright..”

“Have you lost you’re goddamn mind!” Your self proclaimed ‘best-friend’, Jamison shouted.

You felt like your eardrum was going to burst if he kept yelling in your ear like that. You were driving him home and chatting when the topic of baseball came up, while he wasn’t too much of a fan, his older brother was on the baseball team. The moment you told him you were trying out he blew up.

“Maybe the rest of your siblings might stand a chance but come on Y/n, be realistic for a moment.”

“I am, I’ve been playing for years, I'm pretty sure I can make the team.”

He groaned, rubbing his hand down his face in frustration,

“Dude, the entire team is getting full ride scholarships, you can’t just come in and fuck that up!”

Stopping at a red light you turned to face him, “Who says I’m going to fuck it up?”

“Just..” he groaned again, “You’re not as good as them man.”

“You’ve never seen me play.”

“Still, just think about it playing with your siblings is different, they go easy on you because they don’t want to hurt your feelings, other teams won’t give a shit about you or your feelings!”

The light turned green and you moved your foot from the breaks to the gas, thinking just how wrong he was. This asshole had never seen you play, he didn’t even know anything about the sport and he was trying to tell you that you’d bring the team down.

“Whatever man,” You muttered.

You tried to ignore his words as best as you could, but such heavy doubt coming from one of your closest friends stung. Tapping your finger against the steering wheel, you breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm the anger that was slowly bubbling under your skin.

“Y/n, I love you man, but don’t do this, you’re good at…stuff, but not this. Just let somebody else try.”

You sighed, slamming your foot on the breaks, making Jamison jerk forward, nearly slamming his head on the dash board. You looked at your rear view mirror, no cars as far as you could see, you look forward, no cars. Then, as though the past three years of friendship meant nothing, you said,

“Get out.”

“What?”

“You heard me, get out of my car.”

He scoffed, sitting back in his seat, “Are you serious?”

After a second of silence he got out of the car.

And you got out right after him.

The familiar smell of human blood traveled through the Cullens’ home, followed by your scent, followed by Charlie’s.

Four loud knocks echoed through the quiet house, all were hesitant to move. But Carlisle, being the closest to the door, moved to open it.

Behind it he found a very irritated Charlie who was holding your arm behind your back. Blood ran from your nose all the way down to your chin, but other than that you seemed mostly unharmed.

Charlie gave a quick glance to you, then back to Carlisle.

“Found him fighting some kid in the middle of the road.” He said, sounding almost as disappointed as Carlisle felt.

You refused to met your fathers eyes. You have never disappointed him before, not in this way at least. You knew that fighting Jamison would lead to you getting in trouble with Carlisle eventually, you imagined every scenario as you rode home in the back of Charlie's car, but Carlisle crushing gaze of disappointment was harder to face than anything you could have imagined

You tuned out their conversation, but never missed the looks Carlisle would give you every so often, disappointment and worry clear on his face.

You didn’t move until you felt your fathers hand on your shoulder, pulling you into the house.

You heard something along the line of “don’t do it again” from Charlie and then the front door closing behind you.

Now you were facing the entire Cullen family, your family, as they swarmed you with questions. Questions you really didn’t want to answer, not now anyways. So, the moment you found an opening, you slid passed them and up the stairs. While any of them could have stopped you at any moment, they didn’t, instead watching as you climbed the stair and disappeared behind the wall, a second later they heard your door slam shut.

Laying on your bed, armed crossed over your chest, glaring at the ceiling above you, irritation coming off of you in waves as the fight replayed in you mind. You kicked his ass but he got a single good shot at you and it was with a rock, not even with his own fist the fucking coward. What kind of person throw stones?

You groaned in frustration, you should have put his ass to the goddamn hospital, maybe that would have given him some time to figure out how to not be a total dick!

You don't know how long you sat there stewing in your own frustration, but someone did eventually come to check on you. You heard the knocks, still you hesitated to get up. You didn't feel like talking, or explaining yourself. You did what you did and that was final.

But, then your father's soothing voice called for you and all the stubbornness you'd been harboring to avoid persecution slipped away.

Pushing yourself up and out of bed you walked to the door, and were met by Carlisle's no longer disappointed face, now replaced by worry.

He sighed before he spoke, grabbing your face and examining your still-bleeding nose.

A moment later you were both sat on your bed as he prodded your nose, tissue held to your nose as he asked you.

“Does this hurt?”

“No.”

He moved to another spot.

“What about this?”

“No.”

He sighed again.

“It's not broken, are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No.”

With that he sat back.

“So are you going to tell me why you fought Jamison, I thought he was your best friend?”

“He was,” Groaning, you said, “until today!”

Falling back onto the bed with a huff, letting your legs dangle off the edge.

“Do you remember what happened last year? With the tryout for the baseball team?”

“Yes, you said they were over before they even started, why?”

“One of the members of the baseball team dropped out, and he specifically asked me to try out and take his place.”

Carlisle smiled, but it faded quickly once he saw the hurt expression on your face.

“That's a good thing, isn't it?”

His words only frustrated you more. not with him, but with your so-called best friend, “It is! But when I told Jamison, he blew up on me- told me I'd only bring the team down. Then he told me to not even try because he thinks I'll fuck up their scholarship.”

“Sorry, I just-” you sighed, “it's just so stressful- I don't know if I even want to join the team anymore. I don't even know if I could! I went through all that trouble with applying and I don't know if they’d even let me on.”

Another sigh left Carlisle. Without saying a word he wrapped his arms around you, his cold embrace comforting beyond anything else. You huffed, irritation and betrayal still scorched through your vein but this lessened it.

A moment passes and you mutter, “thanks dad..”

“It’s alright son..” after a moment he continued, “never take advice from someone who doesn’t have your best interest in mind. As your father, I have nothing but your best interest in mind, so I'll tell you this-”

He pulled back for a second, looking down at you, a small smile on his face.

“Try out for the team, you've played with vampires, I'm sure a group of human boys will be more than impressed with your skills.”

With another sigh you held back a grin, your mood- and your heart- feeling tons lighter.

“Well if you insist, I guess I'll have to-”

And then your door was slammed open, the entire Cullen clan standing behind it, except for Emmett, who'd accidentally pushed the door open by pushing his body weight against it while your siblings were violently eavesdropping.

“…surprise?” Alice tried, holding up a metal bat as both a peace offering and mild defense.

“We were just uh-” Emmett started, but fell short.

“-going to help you practice…for your tryout.” Belle finished smoothly- well as smoothly as she could with a speech pattern as unconventional as hers.

With a wide grin Alice tossed the bat at you, you caught it seamlessly, having done it thousands of times over the years.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Tryouts were over. You were laid out on the dirt, which you were also covered in, the other attendees were in similar positions. Though some were closer to passing out from exhaustion than others. You, on the other hand, we’re just enjoying the sunshine and the breeze after a surprisingly tame tryout.

You closed your eyes, taking in your surroundings with your other sense, the most prominent of which was you potential competition gasping for air just a few feet away.

“You’re not even tired?” A familiar voice said.

Opening your eyes, you saw Apollo, nearly blocking out the sun.

“Not really.”

He let out a short laugh, looking over at the rest of the candidates with his hands on his hips.

“Well, shit- ain’t that something.”

He kneeled down next to you.

“So coach is the one who usually makes these calls with who gets picked after tryout, but you know what I’m pretty damn sure it’s gonna be you.”

“Really?”

“Really, I’ll see you at our next practice-“ then, unexpectedly he whipped his baseball cap off and tossed it onto your face, “-rookie.”

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 3 months

Text

Dirty Polaroid Pictures » Chris Beck

Pairings: Boyfriend!Chris Beck x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Chris finds a little surprise in his suitcase from his girlfriend.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, lingerie, naked pictures, pet names (sweetheart)

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Chris was organizing his clothes in his suitcase when he came across a white envelope. He furrowed his eyebrows and picked it up. There was a yellow post it note taped to it that said “I hope you enjoy your present, Doctor Beck ;)” that you put in his suitcase while he was packing before he left for space. Chris opened the envelope and seen pictures in it. He took the pictures out of the envelope, his eyes widened. They were just any ordinary pictures. They were sexy Polaroid pictures of you naked and wearing lingerie. Chris quickly closed the door and locked it.

The first one is a picture of you wearing his NASA t-shirt with a pair of black lace panties peaking out. He licked his lips when he noticed your nipples poking through the shirt.

“Fuck.” Chris says.

The next picture is you wearing red see through lingerie. Chris shifted on the bed, feeling his cock get hard. He wanted nothing more than to rip the lingerie off of your body and fuck you senseless.

His eyes went wide when he seen the third picture. You were completely naked and biting your bottom lip with your hands in your hair.

His breathing got heavy when he seen the fourth Polaroid. You were bent over a desk and wearing a schoolgirl’s outfit. One of his fantasies.

“God damn, sweetheart.” He breathes, palming his hard cock through his sweatpants.

The fifth Polaroid made his jaw drop. It was you completely naked in front of a mirror. Chris couldn’t take it anymore. He took his t-shirt off and pulled down his sweatpants just enough for his hard cock to spring out. His tip was leaking with precum.

His hand moved up and down on his cock when he looked at the sixth picture. This one nearly made him lose his mind. You had your fingers inside of your wet pussy with your mouth open.

“Fuck me.” He mumbles, moving his hand faster.

The seven Polaroid made him move his hand even faster on his cock. You were in front of a mirror with your legs spread wide open and a vibrator on your clit. Chris’s breathing got heavier as he continued to jerk off his cock.

You were laying in a sexy pose on the bed, wearing light blue lace lingerie in the eighth Polaroid. Chris thought you looked like a model in that one.

The ninth one was you laying on the bed with your hand inside of your wet panties. Chris almost came on the spot.

The tenth and final Polaroid was of you completely naked and on your knees, looking up at the camera with an innocent look on your face. Chris dropped the pictures on the bed and threw his head back in pleasure. His cock twitched in his hand, feeling his orgasm coming closer and closer.

He quickly grabbed a pillow, putting it over his mouth as your name left his lips that was followed by a moan. Cum covered his hand and lower abdomen. He pumped his cock a few more times before relaxing. His chest rose and fell as he breathed heavily.

“Holy fuck.” Chris breathes.

Chris grabbed a couple tissues and cleaned himself up. He put the Polaroids back in the envelope and hid them safely in his suitcase. When he finally got a chance to message you, he said “I found your present in my suitcase, you dirty girl ;) I love and miss you.”. You giggled as you read the message and smiled, knowing that he absolutely loves his present.

🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀

-Bucky’s Doll

#chris beck #the martian #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #chris beck x female reader #chris beck x reader #chris beck x y/n #chris beck x you #chris beck smut #chris beck one shot #chris beck imagine

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fairy-writes · 10 months

Text

JUST KIND

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Demon Slayer

Pairing(s): Kamado Tanjiro x Reader

Word Count: 5.1K (Y’ALL BETTER LIKE IT)

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Immortal!Tanjiro, Gender-Neutral!Reader, Reader has a kid (adopted), Reader is described as smaller than Tanjiro, and takes place in the modern day!

Notes: As with many of my oneshots… catch my doctor who quotes!

Tanjiro is also aged up (I mean, he’s immortal, but asjkhaka, you get what I mean)

The pacing for this is whack, but we’re ignoring that.

__________________________________________________________________________

You first met Kamado Tanjiro on a Friday.

It had been an accident, really. You weren’t looking where you were going, engrossed in Giichi’s antics to pay attention to what you were doing.

The person you ran into was firm, your nose smacking straight into their sternum. You go crashing onto your bum, and your bags of groceries go tumbling.

“Are you okay?! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Came a voice, and you looked up to see a man, around your age, with a scar on his forehead and a kind face twisted with worry.

His eyes were dark red, so very sad, and oh so old.

How can such a kind, young face have eyes so sad and old as his?

You notice he’s still staring in a panic, and his hand extended to help you up. You take his hand, noting how rough and calloused it is.

“I—it’s okay! It was my fault, really. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You reassure as he pulls you up easily.

Abruptly, you realize you’re staring at his face and immediately look down at your shoes.

Was it just you, or did he linger before letting go?

You kneel to pick up the fallen groceries. The eggs are goners, same with the milk, but you can salvage the cans and fruits and vegetables.

Surprisingly, the man kneels to help.

“Oh… you don’t have to do that… I can get it!” You try, and he offers you a warm, sad sort of smile. (Why is he so sad?)

“It’s not a problem at all.” He says quietly. You return with your own smile that you hope is happier and hurry to pick up your fallen items.

In no time at all, the groceries are picked up and in your arms. Luckily, the bags hadn’t split that much, so you could salvage them.

All of a sudden, you hear your name.

Turning, you see Giichi running toward you through the parking lot, an excited look on his face.

Not at all seeing the car rumbling straight through a stop sign and straight for him.

You scream his name but know in your heart you won’t be able to reach him in time.

There’s a gust of wind beside you, whipping your clothes about your body, and suddenly Giichi is in the arms of the man and rolling away from the car. The vehicle screeched to a stop a second too late and would have hit your son if it hadn’t been for the young man.

You set your groceries down as whispers begin to erupt from the gathering crowd. You stumble but get to your feet and sprint toward the duo. The man is getting to his feet—Giichi still wrapped protectively in his arms—just as you reach them. Immediately he’s handing the boy to you, and you’re wrapping him up in your arms, tears welling up and streaming down your cheeks.

You almost lost him.

It was your fault.

You should have been watching him better.

Giichi, thankfully, has barely any idea what’s going on. He’s babbling on excitedly about meeting with Sabito and Makomo next week for Sabito’s eighth birthday party, not at all phased by the fact that he almost died.

The man hands Giichi off to you, and you bury your face in his raven hair and bury a sob threatening to erupt from your throat. You pull back and check Giichi for any injuries. He’s looking at you now with a frown. He calls your name quietly,

“What’s wrong?” He asks in that tiny voice of his. You just give him a watery smile.

“Nothing, sweetheart.” You reply and set him down slowly, still gripping his hand while you turn to the man who saved him.

He’s watching with a fond, wistful smile as if he missed something similar. (Did he have a family? Someone to go home to? Was he married?)

You bow, and Giichi follows suit though he doesn’t understand why,

“Thank you for saving him.” You say earnestly and feel his hand on your shoulders, gently guiding you to a standing position. He offers that bright smile that has your heart twisting.

“It’s not a problem at all. I’m Kamado Tanjiro.” He reiterates and introduces himself, holding a hand out for you to shake. You take it, introducing yourself with a grateful smile of your own.

Then, Kamado kneels and grins at Giichi,

“And what’s your name, young man?” He asks playfully. Giichi’s face splits in a grin of his own, and he jabs a thumb at his chest,

“‘m Tomioka Giichi! I’m seven! My favorite color is blue, and I like swimming!” He says proudly, and Kamado swallows thickly, the light dying from his eyes, and he looks so utterly heartbroken.

It flashes on his face for barely a second, but you still notice it.

Why was he so sad when looking at your son?

Giichi is rambling, as he always does when he meets new people. He’s always been such an outspoken kid. It was something you adored about your son.

Kamado ends up carrying your groceries (much to your protest) to your car and sees you off. As he shuts the trunk of your little car, bags safely stored inside, you turn to say goodbye. He’s watching Giichi in his booster seat, that same heartbroken look on his face.

He looks so lonely and sad that you can’t stand it.

So before you can think, you take a leap of faith.

“Could I take you out for coffee sometime? To say thank you?” You blurt and immediately curse yourself. Being so forward was a surefire way to scare him off.

But…

His face lights up, and there are smile lines around his eyes when the corners of his lips curve upwards. “I’d like that.” He says quietly, and you can tell he means it.

So you exchange information, scribbling your number down on the back of your receipt and handing it to the taller man. His fingers brush yours, and you are again wondering… did his hand linger before pulling away?

Almost a week later, on Thursday afternoon, you finally meet Kamado for coffee.

The coffee shop was quiet, peaceful even. There were a few couples, maybe even a family or two, but your attention is on Kamado. He’s nursing a coffee with some cream and three sugars, and you are stirring your own after doctoring it to your liking.

“So…” You begin, and he looks over at you from where he had been staring out the window, “What do you do for a living?” You finish, and he huffs out a quiet laugh,

“Security at various buildings.” He says, taking a sip from his cup before gesturing to you, “What about you?”

You scuff your foot on the tile, staring into the dark liquid,

“I work at a bookstore. Mostly bookkeeper work, accounting, and things like that. But the hours work well for Giichi’s school schedule.” You say, and he hums, taking in the information.

“How is he, by the way? He’s what… six?” Kamado asks, and you smile at the thought of your boy. He was at Sabito’s eighth birthday with Sabito and Makomo.

“He’s good! And let’s see… it’s July? So he’s seven. He’ll be eight in February of next year. He’s at a birthday party with his friends.” You say and can’t help but chuckle.

“Giichi’s been asking about you.” You say suddenly, and Kamado looks up from his coffee with an eyebrow raised.

“How so?” He asks, and you shrug,

“I explained what happened. You saving him and all. He sees you as something of a hero.” At this, Kamado’s face twists into that sad expression, just for a second, but you still notice it.

But you don’t say anything.

Because what could you say?

“Tomioka seems like a good kid.” He says, and you grin,

“He is. He wants to see you again, y’know.” You reply, and Kamado’s face turns wistful, watching his coffee swirl in his cup as he stirs it.

“I think I’d like that.” He whispers, and your grin widens, if only slightly.

It only takes a few more texts before the next plan is made, and you meet Kamado at the park.

It’s a Saturday, so the park is full of families and children playing on the playground. The air is alight with the sounds of laughing kids and alive with everyone else's chatter.

You spot him on a bench, watching with that same sad expression he always had when he thought no one noticed.

His expression brightened when he heard his name being called. Giichi lets go of your hand and runs toward the man, who gets up and waves. The seven-year-old crashes into him, but he barely moves. He’s as solid as a stone wall.

“How are you, young man?” He asks, and Giichi giggles at Kamado ruffling his hair.

“I’m good! I got to go to a birthday party last week with my friends!” He says excitedly, and you sigh as you set down the picnic basket in your hand. Kamado offers you a friendly greeting which you return.

“Let’s not talk Kamado’s ear off, Giichi.” You say, and Kamado laughs. It’s a full and rich sound, one that has your heart stuttering.

“I don’t mind.” He replies, and you raise your eyebrows in disbelief. Most adults and kids alike didn’t want to hear Giichi’s babbling. He had come home from school more than once in tears because of kids calling him a blabbermouth.

It doesn’t take much for you to convince Giichi to go play while you set up the food.

You had brought supplies for a picnic, it seemed like a safe option, and you only hoped that you weren’t pushing too much or seeming too forward. Kamado’s eyes lit up when you began pulling food out from the basket, having since set up the blanket.

“This looks amazing.” He said, turning that blinding smile toward you, and you duck your head in embarrassment.

He didn’t have to be so kind.

You weren’t a brilliant cook or anything. You told him as such, but he waved a hand,

“I’m sure it’ll taste great.” He reassured you firmly, but you two are interrupted by Giichi plopping himself on the blanket and grabbing a rice ball with sweaty hands. You raise an eyebrow,

“What do we say?” You chastise, and he freezes, half of it already in his mouth.

“Fanks fo gu foof.” He garbles through his mouthful, and you laugh, shaking your head,

“Good enough.” Is all you say.

You hear a surprised noise and turn to see Kamado, his eyes locked on one of the dishes. You frown,

“The tempura? Do you not like it?” You ask worriedly, and he shakes his head vehemently,

“No! I actually like tempura taranome. My mom used to make it all the time.” He says, and you sigh in relief. At least he wasn’t disgusted.

“How is your mom?” You ask, and his eyes turn so unimaginably sad.

You had hit a sensitive subject. You just knew it.

“She was killed. A long time ago.” He says in that quiet voice that sounds oh so small. You immediately panic,

“I’m so sorry—” He shakes his head,

“Don’t be. You didn’t know.” He says, though, he doesn’t meet your eyes.

You feel horrible.

So you take another leap of faith and place a hand over his. He looks at you, surprised and close to tears at the same time.

What had happened to this poor man to make him so sad?

You offer what you hope is a comforting smile.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. If you ever need to talk about it, I’m here.” You say, and his eyes widen marginally before he nods wordlessly and wipes any unshed tears from his eyes.

“Sorry. Our second outing, and I’m already crying.” He says, and you laugh,

“I cried when we first met. You’re perfectly fine.” At this, he huffs out his own laugh,

“Your son almost got hit by a car. You had a perfectly valid reason to cry.” He tries, and your grip on his hand tightens. It doesn’t take long for him to turn his hand over and grip yours in return.

“Your reason is valid as well.” Your reply has his smile turning watery again,

“I—”

Suddenly you hear your and Kamado’s names being called, and you both turn from where you were sitting and see Giichi waving from the swing set.

“Push me! Please?!” He pleads, and you look at Kamado, who watches the boy for a moment more before getting up and holding a hand to help you up.

“Let’s not keep him waiting.” He says, looking for all the world as if a weight had been removed from his shoulders.

A single text from Kamado out of the blue turns into two. Turns into six. Turns into an everyday occurrence.

Part of you wonders where this is going to go. The other part of you says don’t worry about it. So you don’t.

You respond, keeping it casual, never crossing a line, never pushing too much.

But things change

A few glasses of wine during the weekend lead to a sorry attempt at flirting, and you wake up in the morning to your phone buzzing. Vague panic sets in as you see Kamado’s name plastered across your screen.

But you pick up.

“Uh… hello?” You say warily and hear a quiet titter of laughter, sending your heart into a tizzy. You like it when he laughs, maybe more than you should.

“Hangover?” Kamado asks, and you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You have no idea.” You say into the receiver and hear him hum. It sounds like he’s reading something. You can hear the flipping of paper as he supposedly scans the pages.

Fuzzy memories start to come back, and you feel a sense of dread fill your belly.

“Listen… about last night—” He cuts you off gently,

“You were drunk.” He says, and you roll off the couch and into a sitting position. You’re glad Giichi isn’t home. You had promised him a sleepover with Sabito for acing his latest spelling test. You were due to pick him up in a few hours.

You rub your face,

“But—well—I don’t know. I just want to apologize. It was rude and improper.” You mumble, and he’s quiet. Then he mumbles something that you don’t quite catch. You as him to say it again, and he fumbles with his words before steeling his voice and repeating himself.

“What if I liked it?” He says boldly.

Your brain stalls.

Caput.

Poof.

“What if you… what?” You stammer dumbly. He backtracks immediately,

“Sorry… Just—forget I said anything—”

“No, no! I just didn’t expect you to say that is all.” You say hurriedly, and he stops in his tracks.

The rest of the conversation is a joke, with you both stumbling over words, and there are even crummy attempts at flirting.

But…

You don’t mind it.

However, it ends all too quickly for your taste.

Your relationship with Kamado changes over time.

And it scares you.

It shouldn’t be. He’s kind and the epitome of the perfect gentleman.

So why were you nervous?

The two of you never really put a label on what you were to each other. But it was clear you were way past being friends.

Yet he hadn’t kissed you. Or hugged you, for that matter.

But he picked you up every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after your shifts at the bookstore. He took you out on a date every Saturday when he got off his shift for the day. Sundays were reserved for him coming over to your place and spending the day with you and Giichi.

It felt like nothing you could do in return would make up for it.

He always assured you that you didn’t have to do anything in return, but that didn’t mean you didn’t try. You left post-it notes in his wallet. (which gets left behind at your place more and more, and you were positive it isn’t an accident.) You invited him over for dinner. You even gave him flowers at one point, and he almost cried.

Things really change one night after Giichi is in bed.

You’re both on the couch, wine glasses in hand as you talk in quiet voices so as to not wake your son. You finally have the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at your brain since you first met him.

“How can a man so young have eyes so old?” You mumble, your words slightly slurred as an effect of the alcohol. Your friends always said you were a bit of a lightweight.

But you still don’t miss the look in his eyes as he listens. He sets down his wine glass—which has barely been touched, mind you—and stares sadly at the picture of you and Giichi the day his adoption was finalized.

“It’s complicated.” He says simply, and you frown almost childishly.

“Complicated how?” You ask and notice, even in your mildly drunken stupor, that he avoids your gaze. He fidgets with the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down and keeps his eyes trained on the floor.

“It’s a talk that should be saved for when you’re sober.” He says firmly, and that’s the end of that.

You down the rest of your wine—which isn’t much—and set the empty glass down. Kamado looks at you.

“You aren’t going to have more?” He asks, and you shake your head, leaning to put your head on his shoulder. He stiffens but doesn’t pull away.

“You said it’s a talk that should be saved for when I’m sober. I had better start now.” You say and hide a yawn. “Y’know Kamado… I’m happy you’re here.” You finish, and as you fall into unconsciousness, you hear something.

“You can call me by my first name.” He whispers, sounding ancient and devastated.

Why?

You fight to open your eyes, a sleepy smile crossing your lips.

“I’m happy you’re here, Tanjiro.” You murmur before slipping away to sleep and feel his arm wrap around your shoulders, and his head leans onto yours.

When you wake up, it’s to Giichi poking your cheek with a mischievous grin on his face.

“You’re awake! Tanjiro made breakfast!” He cheers, and you sit up, a hand to your head and hiding a groan. Surprisingly, your headache isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. You turn and see two empty glasses and a bottle of multivitamins on the nightstand next to you.

Wait…

You were in bed?

Hadn’t you passed out on the couch?

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and take Giichi’s hand. He’s excited, babbling on about how Tanjiro let him help, and it was now his job to get you out of bed so you could eat.

Whatever Tanjiro was cooking smelled delicious.

He had found your apron, which is several sizes too small, but he makes it work. You lean on your kitchen doorframe, watching Tanjiro move about your kitchen with practiced ease, effortlessly letting Giichi in to help. When he notices you in the doorway, he smiles.

(He looks handsome when he smiles.)

“How are you feeling?” He asks, and you feel your lips tugging upward in your own smile.

“Much better than if it were me by myself. Thank you, Tanjiro.” You say, and he gestures toward your table. You notice his ears are flushed pink.

“Have a seat. I’m almost done.” He says, voice thick with emotion, and you obey without a word, guiding Giichi toward the table. He climbs into his booster seat. Tanjiro comes in with three plates of food balanced on his arm and sets them down.

Breakfast is… oddly traditional, to say the least.

It’s well-balanced but has some food prepared in a way you haven’t seen since your history classes in university. From the Taisho era, if you remember right.

But it tastes good, and Giichi has no complaints, so that’s all you can ask for.

You insist on helping Tanjiro with the dishes. He tries to usher you out of the kitchen, claiming he can clean up his own mess, but you’re having none of it. So there you stood, scrubbing dishes with hot water and handing them to Tanjiro to dry. The silence is filled with your instructions on where things go.

Eventually…

“Why did you get so emotional when I said your name?” You ask quietly, and he pauses where he’s drying a plate.

“It’s just… no one’s called me that in a very long time.” He replies, just as quiet and sounding too much like a young boy scared to be hurt.

“Was it because you were scared?” He stiffens but nods mutely.

“I’ve lost everyone in my life. I don’t want to lose anyone else.” He says, and you stare down at the sudsy water.

What made you different?

Why were you so special?

You ask him as much, and he shrugs,

“I want to get to know you. I haven’t been able to do that in ye—quite a long time.” He says, and you want to ask him about his blunder.

Was he going to say years?

How long had he been alone? Never getting close to anyone? Never properly letting go of his grief?

Because you knew he was grieving. Knew he was mourning something. You just didn’t know what.

You were almost scared to ask.

Tanjiro brings you to meet a friend of his one day when you both don’t work, and Giichi is at school.

The house isn’t large or small, but the lawn is decorated with beautiful flowers that take your breath away. Tanjiro keeps hold of your hand as he knocks on the door with his other one.

He was holding your hand.

It had become a constant thing in your relationship.

It had begun with you holding hands with Giichi and boldly reaching out to take Tanjiro’s in your free one. You fully expected him to pull away, but instead… he intertwined your fingers and held you close.

It was… nice.

The door creaks open and reveals a young girl with black hair, large violet eyes, and dressed in a silken kimono. She watches you warily but visibly opens up when she spots Tanjiro.

“Are you here to see Great-Grandpa?” She asks in a meek voice, and Tanjiro nods.

“Is he well enough to see us?” He replies, and the girl nods, opening the door wider so you both can enter. The two of you change into slippers and follow her down the hall and to the fourth door on the right.

You recognize the person in bed immediately.

Ubuyashiki Kiriya.

The oldest person in Japan and one of the oldest in the world.

Tanjiro was friends with him?

He was mostly bald and looked at you with the same kind but old eyes that Tanjiro had. Except he was warm. Happy. Content. He didn’t have that tragic look that Tanjiro had.

Ubuyashiki looked over from where he had been watching the birds, and a gentle smile crossed his face.

“Ah… Tanjiro… What a pleasant surprise. It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it? And this is…?” He asked, voice creaky like the ancient wisteria tree with the bird feeder.

You bow and introduce yourself politely before righting your posture as Ubuyashiki beckons you forward. He extends a hand for you to take, and you do, but he doesn’t shake it. He merely grasps it with kind hands that fill you with all kinds of warmth.

He bows and presses his forehead to your joined hands, ignoring your panic at the respect he is showing you. Shouldn’t you be doing that for him? When he straightens, he keeps ahold of your hands.

“They’re someone special to you… aren’t they?” He asks Tanjiro,

“Yes… they really are.” Comes his quiet reply, and you feel embarrassment flush your skin till it’s hot to the touch.

You were someone special to him?

Ubuyashiki gestures for you both to sit beside his bed. You sit with one leg crossed underneath you, your knee brushing Tanjiro’s thigh as he takes a seat next to you.

“How did you two meet?” He asks, and you glance at Tanjiro, who is looking at you with a fond sort of smile.

“Tanjiro, um… well… he saved my son from a car accident.” You decide on the simple explanation. There wasn’t any need to go into a long-winded story. You thought that would be the end of the conversation.

Until Ubuyashiki starts asking more questions.

“How old is he?” He asks, and you bite your lip.

“He’s almost eight. We have about a month left.” You say, and your mind reels at the thought. Have you really known Tanjiro for six months?

It felt like a lifetime.

“What about you? How long have you known each other?” You take the chance to ask a question. Ubuyashiki hums in thought.

“It’s been many, many years. We met in—”

“Kiriya,” Tanjiro says suddenly, his tone warning and almost… dark?

“December of 1915.” The old man finishes, and your world turns upside down.

You whirl to look at Tanjiro, who is yet again avoiding your gaze.

“1915?” You ask quietly, and he flinches.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you.” He whispers in that scared voice of his. Like he was afraid.

“Why do you look so young?” You ask, hesitant or even a bit scared of his answer. He grits his teeth but answers,

“I can’t die. I can’t age. Nothing. I’m doomed to live forever.” He says, and suddenly everything makes sense.

All those sad looks, not looking at you when you ask about his personal life, everything.

How many people had he lost?

How many people had he seen die and not be able to join them?

You reach forward and set a hand on his leg. He looks at you with those big watery eyes that make your heart twist and constrict.

“All that pain, and misery, and loneliness… and it just made you kind.” You whisper, and you mean it.

All those years, being alone with no one to sympathize with his agony.

It must’ve been hell.

He reaches over with a shaking hand, taking yours and ducking his head. You can see tears fall onto his lap.

“Thank you.” He cries softly.

The two of you leave soon after, with Ubuyashiki catching your hand as you stand to leave.

“Take care of him. He’s been through more than he says he has.” He says firmly, and you nod.

“I will.” You say, and he lets go with that same fatherly smile from before.

Tanjiro kisses you six months later.

A year after first meeting him.

You’re back at your apartment again, with you washing the dinner dishes and Tanjiro drying them off. He moves about your kitchen with such familiarity as he puts the dishes away that you forget that it’s only been a year. He acts like he’s lived there for years.

In a way… he has been.

Some of his clothes hang in your guest bedroom closet, he has a special mug in your cupboard, and there’s a spot for his keys and wallet on your desk.

He’s made himself at home.

And you find yourself not minding it at all.

You hand Tanjiro the last of the dishes and pull off your rubber gloves, drying your hands of sweat and turning, nearly bumping into the man behind you.

“Sorry.” You mumble, and he looks down at you with a small smile, gently grasping your elbow with one hand and putting a mug—his mug—into the cupboard above your head with the other.

But he doesn’t move away once he’s done.

Instead… he leans down, putting his forehead against yours. You grip his biceps as you back up against the counter, bringing him with you. You tilt your head up, and your noses brush. His eyelashes flutter, and his eyes close.

“I shouldn’t.” He whispers, breath puffing against your mouth. You frown. You weren’t an idiot. You knew what was going to happen.

“Why not?” Your voice is just as quiet as his.

His grip on your elbow tightens, if only barely.

“Because I don’t want you to get hurt.” He says, and you move your hands up to his shoulders. They’re broad and strong, well-muscled from years of hard work.

“You could never hurt me.” You reply, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t age. But humans do. Humans decay. You wither and die. Imagine watching that happen to someone that you….” He trails off, and your heart beats hopefully. Someone that he what?

“Someone that you what?” You murmur, and he grits his teeth.

“You can spend the rest of your life with me… but I can’t spend the rest of mine with you… I don’t want that to hurt you.” He says bitterly, and you reach up to cup his cheek.

“You could never hurt me.” You reiterate, and he opens his eyes to look at you with… is that hope?

You keep talking.

“You have been so selfless your entire life. Let yourself be selfish for once.” You say and go to back away. Well… as much as you could against the counter.

But before you can get very far, Tanjiro leans in, and suddenly, he’s kissing you.

He cradles you as if you were a piece of glass. As if you could break at any moment. Your eyes close, as do his, and you lean in, your hands slipping down his shoulders to hold tightly as if he were about to pull away.

He didn’t.

He pulls you closer, hands trailing down your elbows to fit snuggly at your waist. He pulls away briefly and opens his eyes. The distance doesn’t last long, and he leans down to kiss you again.

Tanjiro tastes of sunshine and hope. He feels like galaxies of kindness and summer mornings spent together.

He lets out a whimper of your name that tugs on your heartstrings and pulls you impossibly closer. You grip him just as fiercely, his button-down shirt bunching underneath your fingertips. His lips move against yours until you have to break for air.

His beautiful eyes open, and he smiles at you with the most brilliant smile you’ve seen yet.

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