#this is the kind of thing we wanted to do years ago when we first moved in

[lamefish]

kento nanami is an anniversary man. nsfw

you think it's sweet, how he has the date of big events in his life on memory. when it's a loss, he'll take the day off to remember, with his head in your lap as he tells stories of whomever has passed. you listen intently, ask questions about them and watch as your husband recounts every good thing about a person.

he celebrates the good, too. almost excessively. the date you met is circled on the calendar, and kento will wake you up with breakfast in bed and a day of doting to show you just how important this anniversary is to him. you turned his world upside down in the best of ways, and what kind of man is he if not one to celebrate the light in his life?

of course, your wedding anniversary too. it's the one he goes all out for: more often than not you put a weekend aside to take a trip and spend some uninterrupted time together. you'll act as newlyweds again, because you still feel like newlyweds despite the passing years, and you'll be reminded over and over just how lucky you are to have found your soulmate in a man like kento nanami.

a man who is sentimental, and so very in love with you. and also celebrates the first time you had sex.

that first year, he had spent the day doting on you so profusely that you were convinced he was going to propose. he was pulling out all of the stops, taking you out fopr an expensive meal, dosing you with fine wines and so many kisses you could get drunk off the taste of him alone. he took you home, ran you a scented bath and took care of the house while you relaxed.

and of course the night ended in mind blowing sex—as your nights usually do. he had insisted on fucking you in missionary despite his recent penchant for taking you from behind and, once he has ripped two orgasms from you and was working on your third, he let it slip.

“we made love for the first time a year ago today,” he whispers against your lips, cock pulsing inside of you as he reaches deep inside of you. “just like this—looking into each others eyes, three orgasms from you, two from me. fell in love with you that night, do you know that honey?”

“you kept track of the day?” you cant finish your sentence without a moan breaking from your throat. “kento, you’re something else.”

“of course i did. it’s an important date, reaching such intimacies—feeling these beautiful velvet walls of yours for the first time… i’ll never forget it.”

you laugh, though it’s quickly swallowed by a kiss from your lover. he rocks his hips into you, feels every inch of his veiny cock disappear inside. he looks down to watch himself sink into you, though his gaze his brought back when you speak.

“three.”

kento blinks. “three what?”

“orgasms from you. you said you had two, but you came a third time right at the end—i milked you dry and you were so sex-drunk and exhausted but you insisted on making me food.” you reach down and grab his hand, the one that had been cupping at your chest, and hold it up for him to see the gentle scar that runs across his thumb. “you cut yourself slicing the bread because i fucked you mindless.”

it comes back to him in gentle flashes. you had, in fact, milked him of a third release. he had just been so out of his mind with nerves and pleasure that the memory had washed itself clean from his mind. he scolds himself mentally for ever daring to forget a detail about being intimate with you, but smiles.

“i remember,” he says. “you told me sex made you hungry so i wanted to incorporate it into your aftercare…”

“silly man,” you wrap your legs around his waist and lick your ankles behind him. with a gentle nudge, he’s forced that tiny bit deeper inside of you. “my silly man.”

kento moans—his eyes flutter shut and his lips catch between his teeth. he adores you—he really does. so much so that the sheer memory of his first time with you is quickly becoming too powerful of a memory to have.

and you, his beautiful other half, laid beneath him with lustful eyes and parted lips, smile up at him. “are we recreating our first time, ken? is that what this is?”

he nods, a little wordless as he tries to keep his mind straight.

“then i think you know what i’m going to do to you, my love.”

he smiles. “milk me for all i have. it’s all yours anyways.”

you lean up and kiss him. it’s slow, gentle, like your first kiss with him was. you taste him wholly on your lips and thank all the divine beings that may exist for putting such a man in your life’s trajectory. his cock twitches inside of you, he fills you out so perfectly.

still, you smile as you roll your hips up to meet his. “just let me handle the aftercare this time.”

[zepskies]

Omgg girl I'M so excited to see what you thought of Part 3! It's a bit slower than Part 2, but we've got some big emotional hurdles in this one... (loll mommy needs some you time. 💜💜)

I love this description btw Really painted a picture in my head 😍👏

Aww thank you so much! I went to Seattle a few years ago in the fall, and it was absolutely beautiful with the trees changing their colors and basically painting the ground with different colors. 💜

Ouch. That line probably haunted her afterward 😂🙈 (but I loved their banter! You can totally see they have a close and loving relationship 💕) And her dad's optimism and "fate" was so adorable ☺️

Oh definitely, poor thing. She's so very done with bears too. 😅 Aww I was hoping people would see that, even in this small glimpse of her and her dad's relationship. I always find it so adorable when dads are the bigger "sap" in the relationship. 😂

Ah, our boy entered work mode 🤓

Oh you BET loll!!

Oh God 🙈 No, I can't watch him leave alone. At least get Sam!!! Oh God, no, no, no, no... 🫣 I also realized in that moment why my readers are usually "from the same foxhole" because this is exactly what I can't do. Freaks me the fuck out and gives me so much anxiety. Like, I have to be there 😂 I don't know how you do it. Bravo, friend 😅👏

The tensiooooon loll.

Ooh that makes sense loll. For me I thrive in that angst for some reason. Like, making it through all the uncertainty and fear appeals to my hopeless romantic heart to have the battered hero eventually come home to the one he loves. 🥹💗

But yeah, she really shouldn't be going out there on a suss ankle in the middle of winter. 🫠🫠 (Also I'm saving that worried Ross gif LLOL)

Ooooh, btw, super interesting what you said about the bear meat! I figured something like this. They did wear bear fur, right? And I know people back then never wasted anything, so makes sense they'd eat the meat, too 😄

Ooh yeah I learned about that from watching modern survivalists talk about their experiences on Joe Rogan's podcast lmao. They literally eat the whole caribou, moose, etc. Cartilage and bone and all. 🤢 So it still goes on today, believe it or not! But oh yeah, when America was still being settled, for example, certain Native Americans tribes would trade with European settlers and American traders for furs.

I cackled 😂 Love her feistiness!

bahaha I'm glad you liked that little internal monologue. 😘

Aww 😭😭 Poor thing... 😢 (Loved how she explained not taking his room. While invasive, I think if Dean came back to this in his room, he would've melted 🫠🫶)

Honestly you're probably right loll. At first he'd be like "wtf?" But then he'd probably melt and smile ruefully/soft. 💕

I knew it was a long shot, especially when her father wasn't with Dean, but still breaks my heart for her 💔😢

Yeah I feel like we all knew it was headed here, but it was still heartbreaking for me to even write too. 😭💙

The anxiety is long forgotten. All is forgiven... *sighs dreamily* 😍😍

Ahaha that's what I hoped you'd say. 😏💓

Oh no, you come back here, young man!!! It wouldn't be Dean, though, without the "you can't date me, I'm dangerous and not good enough" freak out 😂

LOLL I imagine you grabbing him by his ear. 😂 But right? I feel like in any kind of canon setting, you have to deal with Dean's (lack of) self-worth, as well with his fear of being a danger to the ones he loves. 💙💙

Legit crying right now 😭😭😭 This is exactly why we always want what's best for him in fanfics. He deserves it so much 🥺

Honestly this is why I keep writing that "deal with your self-worth" stuff when it comes to Dean, because I really wished he could've found his happiness like Sam got in the end of S15. 😭

Love that little detail. Makes such a huge difference ❤️

Aw thank you!! That's one of those details I hope people notice when they read this chapter. 🥹

Oooooh, I so can't wait to read the finale now! This is absolutely amazing, Alex! It's got the right amount of angst and heartbreak, only to haul me back into this sweet cabin romanticism 😍🤍🤍🤍

I so hope you enjoy the final part, my friend!! 🥹🥹 This little series was so fun, especially to explore the omegaverse trope/world with some Alpha Dean, giving those post-S15 angsty feels. In a way, it's kind of a S15 fix-it fic. And idk if you remember, but our convo way back about spicy goodness in a cabin in front of the fireplace is more or less what inspired the next chapter (and the whole fic, really). 😂💜

Against the Wind - Part 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases. 

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.” 

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself. 

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father. 

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes. 

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it. 

Wendigo. 

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say. 

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin. 

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside. 

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back. 

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser. 

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either. 

But you’ll have to try. 

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open. 

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive. 

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt. 

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says. 

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door. 

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes. 

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him. 

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place. 

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure. 

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…

He finally drags you to him in a kiss. 

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.  

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair. 

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion. 

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer. 

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance. 

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”  

“Dean,�� you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin. 

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands. 

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin. 

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.” 

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free. 

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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[hanaybuns]

man… i think it’s so important that karamatsu is the center of the osomatsu san movie. I honestly don’t think it could’ve been anyone else but him. Bc only karamatsu would hold onto a fight that happened over 10 years ago. Like yes, his regret is about the letter, but it’s more so about his failure to bring his brothers together and have an actual conversation. It’s about his helplessness and inability to communicate his frustration properly. And while it’s ALL their regrets that brought them to that world. Karamatsu has the best recollection of that time because he’s been ruminating over it for years.

...which, of course, is something he told no one about. if anything, he initially tried to get them to think positively about their high school days.

but after they drink some more, he's the first one to start talking about their past seriously

also, if you go back and watch this scene, he's the only one whose face we don't see while jyushi is teasing them with their old pics. everyone else starts laughing at his antics, except karamatsu. in fact, he actually has this reeeeaaaaalllly subtle moment where he hunches forward slightly. like he visibly tenses up a bit (i wish i knew how to make gifs man).

with karamatsu the writers like to take a very “show don’t tell” approach. Yes there are episodes where he narrates (overseas vacation) and that could be considered his inner monologue, but for the most part we kiiinda don’t really know what he’s thinking. especially when he's being insulted. like he straight up either doesn't respond or he just goes "mmmm~~?"

(and as we know, he gets insulted a lot)

the thing is, this is by design. Because not only do we have a direct quote from his voice actor (yuichi nakamura) about it.

we also literally have an entire skit criticizing him for it.

but i think that this tendency to hold things in directly stems from that fight on the roof. The one time he really tried to step out of his comfort zone and approach his brothers about something earnestly, he started the worst fight they’ve ever had.

(also side note, he actually only starts opening up about it after he takes a couple sips from the beer osomatsu got for them)

Now I’m not going to argue with the director over whether karamatsu is a 100% bonafide kind good hearted person or not (though i should note that this was from 2016 and his characterization has changed a lot since then). but i think it's important to note that the rest of them lowkey forgot about that fight while karamatsu consciously held it in because he didn't want to remind them of it and potentially start another fight.

when they discuss their regrets, the rest of the bros are more-so regretful over how they acted as teens. they discuss how their teenage "weirdness" stemmed from their dislike of being sextuplets. this dislike further manifested as a dislike for each other. but karamatsu's regret was over his failure to bring them together. i do appreciate that this strong piece of characterization was based around the love he has for his brothers.

this is getting wayyy too long, but i have more to say (especially about how passive karamatsu is... so many thoughts) so i might make a part 2. stay tuned (maybe lol)

[jackiespurnell]

thinking about you baby (no crash au jackie taylor x fem reader headcanons - requested)

summary: the yellowjackets made it to nationals. you're on the opposing team. and jackie wants you. really badly.

tw: masturbation, sexual fantasies

────୨ৎ────────

okay, so jackie knows that falling for a member of the competing team was a terrible idea 

but it’s not her fault that you’re so pretty!

there was a dinner party organized for the two teams the night before nationals

and while jackie was still 100% focused on winning tomorrow

she thought it couldn’t hurt to get to know some of the other players 

and you were one of those players 

you had on really tight jeans and a low cut tank top that did amazing things for your breasts

in that moment, jackie had half a mind just to reach out and touch them

which was a bad idea

even she knows that

but she really wanted to

at first, the two of you just started talking a little bit, nothing serious

you ended up in the seat next to her, casually twirling your hair and laughing at her jokes

and all she could do was smile and laugh along

(and ignore the fact that she wishes she was the one twirling your hair)

get it together she told herself she’s literally your competition. bad idea

after dinner, some of the yellowjackets went out to get ice cream

so of course jackie thought to invite you along

and while the other girls were very obviously against this, she really couldn’t care less

sue her for liking you!!

you were just so cool and funny and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want you

and besides, the mental image of you sucking on an ice cream cone?

well, it was way too hot to pass up on seeing the real thing

“yo, jackie, why did exactly did we bring the competition along” tai had pulled her aside

“come on taissa, it's not that big of deal!!”

“actually, it kind of is.”

whatever. they wouldn’t understand.

once they got back to the hotel, jackie invited you inside of her hotel room

(okay, yes, she was sharing with shauna but it’s not like shauna would mind)

unfortunately for jackie, you declined

something about wanting to get to bed early for the big game tomorrow

and fine, okay that made sense

jackie should probably be more focused on the game as well instead of some girl she just met a couple of hours ago

but still

she couldn’t help but feel like you rejected her

which is not at all what happened

except it kind of is just what happened

jackie sighs, flopping down on her bed

on the bright side, she did get your number

but when she checked her messages, you hadn’t sent her a damn thing

and her stubborn ass was not about to text first

then she got a great (read: terrible) idea

she looked around, her roommate and best friend was nowhere in sight…

now jackie was not big on masturbation

maybe did it three or four times in all seventeen years of her life

but you just looked so fucking pretty tonight…

so she slides a hand down her pants and envisioned you in her head

and oh what a pretty vision she conjured up

she shut her eyes tight and rubbed a little bit on her clit, not too hard yet

she thought about you perched on her lap

your thighs wrapped around her hips

her hands would roam all around your body, unable to keep to herself

“fuck” she murmured quietly, pushing her fingers farther into her pussy

she thought about you on your knees

your hair would be a mess, your pretty eyes staring back up at her

she touches herself imagining it’s you touching her instead

she imagines your long, pretty fingers playing with her pussy

jackie wonders if you’d be a tease

if you’d take your slow time with her while she cries out in arousal

or if you’d be quick to the point

and have her climaxing in no point

honestly

jackie isn’t entirely sure which one she’d want more

but it doesn’t really matter to her, cause she just wants you in any way she could have you

“fuck baby” she lets out a loud moan and she knows she should probably try and be quieter, especially with you right down the hall

but how could anyone except her to be silent

especially with all those thoughts of you still floating around in her head

she wonders what you have on underneath your tight clothes

she pictured pretty lace panties and a matching bra

jackie would like to run her hands over the pretty designs, feeling you up

but she knows damn well she’d be too impatient

and just rip off all your clothes

just the thought of getting to see you all gorgeous and naked in front of her was enough to send her over the edge

and let’s just say she had the best orgasm of her life, 

just on command, she gets a notification from her phone

and its a text!!! from you!!!

“having fun in there?” you text

“damn, was i that loud?” jackie responds, a little bit turned on by your casualness

“yeah, you were. what were you thinking about?”

now, jackie was not one to be forward about these kind of things

but a little impulsivity never hurt anyone…right?

so she answers your question with all the naturalness in the world:

“i was thinking about you”

────୨ৎ────────

[justiceiscalling]

so i wanna get into batfam cause it seems fun. my introduction to this family is through some dceu movies and titans (show) only. is there any introductory ff or something? (don't wanna do comics idkw)

dude the way those were my introductions too (plus young justice)!!! i also refused comics in the beginning lol. first, disregard titans as a whole. i loved the show when i knew nothing of the batfam and dc in general but now that i do, i remember how wrong it was on so many parts.

i'm just going to do fic recs that i read and that i think helped me better understand some characters and then at the end i will add a 'quick' background on the 'lesser known' bats (duke, cass, and steph).

(nine fics plus an additional two crossovers)

here we go:

Worlds Saddest Breakfast Club by motelyfam

Summary:

Following a couple of Very Bad Weeks™ (which may or may not have involved being kidnapped and mildly tortured), Jason decides the best way to cheer himself up is to break into the Manor for a 3 a.m. snack. Turns out he isn’t the only one awake.

my opinion: okay i love love love this one. it includes every 'major' batfam member save for barbara gordon (so really just the one's considered bruces kids + steph). i think this one has extremely accurate characterization, it’s jason todd-centric but includes a good amount of everyone else.

greatest of ease by ijustwanttodestroy (ONGOING)

Summary:

The times people meet Dick Grayson. Not Robin, not Nightwing — just Dick. (Or: Dick Grayson is a hero, has always been and will always be, no matter what name he takes.)

my opinion: i actually just read this during the 12 hour tik tok ban and this is so good. it's dick centric and is just how random people who've met him in passing perceive him. i love it so much. there's still one chapter left to be written, but since the last time it was updated was 2019, i don't think it'll be updated lol. but, i think the last chapter isn't really needed

A Mediation on Railroading by eggmacguffin

Summary:

When he ends up ditched in Atlanta after a fight with his dad, Tim decides to do the only sensible thing: Tell no one and make the 800 mile journey back to Gotham on his own. Because the "call Batman when you're in trouble" rule only applies when he's Robin, right?

my opinion: okay, honestly i haven't rad this in forever--a reread is long overdo--but i remember enjoying this. this one is on the longer side, nearly 25k words. i feel like a majority of people in this fandom have read this, in 2023 i could not go anywhere without being recommended this. i'm pretty sure this started me into my jason and tim as a duo spiral, which i have since left because i now really believe that tim and jason would lowkey be beefing non-stop but like in a brotherly way? which most fics surrounding them don't quite capture in the way i want, idk i'm picky lol.

but yeah. this fic=good for new fandom people.

though your eyes will need some time to adjust by popsunner

Summary:

“I think…” Stephanie takes a deep breath, “I think I’m bad.” “I don’t.” “So what, I’m just supposed to believe you?” “I am Batman.” Stephanie snorts, “Yeah, you are… but what if I’m still bad?” “Then I forgive you.” _______ Or: Stephanie and Bruce, figuring it out

my opinion: i actually haven't seen a lot of steph and bruce bonding fics that i like but i really enjoyed this one. i read this a year or two ago, forgot about it and reread it today. steph and bruces relationship is complicated and i like how this captures them.

dick grayson: a case study by writersagainstwritersblock

Summary:

Dick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m mostly used to sparring with my little brothers, it’s kind of just habit, and I was having fun. I didn’t want the match to be over too quick.” “Too quick?” Derek asked, eyebrows raised. “I’m twice your size, kid.” Dick shrugged. “So’s Bruce and we’re pretty much tied at this point, or at least according to the score board the kids started to keep for Saturday spars.” “Saturday spars?” Derek repeated, following him towards the locker room. Dick flashed him a smile. “What? Don’t have any weird family traditions?” “Not ones that include hitting each other,” Derek said   OR The BAU gets a probationary profiler who is a little more than he appears at first glance. Or second. Or third. Just how many secrets can Dick Grayson be hiding from a team full of profilers?

my opinion: this one's a crossover but i love how it shows dicks relationship with his siblings, wally, and bruce. slades in here and so because of that theres implied sexual assault. the author has warnings on every chapter. i wouldn't read if you're not familiar with criminal minds though, it'll be really confusing

The Robin Generation by waterunderthebridge12

Summary:

"It's the dodging emotional conversations for me," Duke said. "Take the L." "Stop being such a cringefail edgelord," Tim said. "It's giving emotionally stunted," said Damian. "It's giving big yikes delulu."   In his ongoing search for better ways to fight crime, Tim comes up with a brand new method: bombarding bad guys with Gen Alpha slang. Recruiting Gen Alpha cusper Duke and full Gen Alpha Damian, shenanigans, chaos, and bonding ensue.

my opinion: i recommend this entire series, omg it's so unbelievably funny and good. great duke and damian bonding, great duke representation overall, and it also introduced me to the idea of duke hating dick and cass and jason just straight up beefing all the time which makes so much fucking sense. if you read anything on this list PLEASE read this.

Life Happens by Cdelphiki

Summary:

While walking home from an event at Wayne Enterprises, Tim and Damian are kidnapped and sent to an alternate dimension. In a world where superheroes are merely comic book characters and the idea of the multiverse is only a theory found within the pages of science fiction, how are Tim and Damian going to return home? How long will they be stranded on this strange Earth? And will the boys murder each other before they figure it out?

my opinion: by far one of the best tim and damian bonding things i read. it's 176k words so it doesn't make them bonding so straight forward, yk? not the usual 'they're both secretly jealous of each other' thing (which i lowkey love like i eat that shit up ngl), it's more complex. more 'i love you cause you're my brother, but i don't like you' which evolves into 'you're the only one around for me now' which turns into 'you're my favorite, please don't leave me.' i sob every time i read this story, it's so fucking heartbreaking. the other works in the exiled robins series are good but not needed to understand life happens.

All the Roofs of Uncertainty by Kieron_Duibhir

Summary:

For all the blood on his hands, Red Hood was never just a villain. And Nightwing never gives up on family, not for good. (Or: The one where Dick bleeds a lot and Jason argues with everybody.)

my opinion: i remember vaguely reading this when i first joined the fandom and loving it so much, it was my first introduction to jason and dick's relationship as brother that i thought actually made sense. if you like this one, check out Kieron_Duibhir's account, they're a really good author.

Martry Unmade by Here_we_go

Summary:

Jason Todd was loved best dead. Dead he was a saint. A martyr. Nothing was more sacred in the Church of Batman than martyrdom. - No one ever said that coming back from the dead was easy, not for the one who died and not for the people they left behind.

my opinion: catholic jason todd, my love. i'm always searching for catholic jason todd fics. i stumbled upon this a couple months ago and loved the fuck out of it. catholic jason is just so incredible to me, for some reason.

the entombment of idolization by make_your_own_world

Summary:

It turns out that growing up in the League of Assassins complicates your definition of self-worth. Or: Damian’s Saturday nights did not typically involve an underground sequence of caverns, a drugged brother, and a bloodthirsty monster snapping at their heels, but he was nothing if not adaptable. Or: If I am all you want to be, and you are all I want to be, why together are we not enough? (Can be read as a standalone)

my opinion: i did not read the other works in this series and i understood everything. this has tim and damian bonding which i will always look for, i'm pretty sure i stumbled upon this christmas of 2023 and i have loved it ever since.

okay that's it for the recs. if you want more heres the link to my bookmarks.

some have OC's or x readers, and i think theres one or two non batfam in there. still, feel free to look if you want. i also have some tim and damian bonding ones posted (Keep hanging on, Praise from a mother, Trust from a bother, the graves i dig series, and Growing apart), i don't think any of my other works will be of any use if you're just trying to get into the batfam because the rest are x readers or x OC's, save for one which is on a HEAVY hiatus lol.

quick background (as promised):

since your introduction was through DCEU and titans, im assuming you have no clue who duke thomas, cassandra cain, and stephanie brown are. duke is bruce’s latest foster kid, he’s black, his parents were rendered insane because of joker, he’s the vigilante signal, and he’s often forgotten by lots of the fandom. cassandra is one of bruce’s adopted kids (i believe) she came after tim but she’s jason’s age. she’s the daughter of lady shiva and david cain. typically she’s depicted as mute in fanon, but in comics she can speak her english is just very broken. depending on the fic, cass will be either one of those three vigilantes: batgirl, black bat, or orphan. stephanie isn’t bruce’s kid, she’s kind of an honorary kid though. she used to date tim but they’ve broken up in comics (tim is bi and dating bernard, as seen in the titans show), many people have her date cassandra. it’s a VERY popular ship in the batfam fandom, i think. stephanie is the vigilante spoiler though she was previously the vigilante batgirl and the only girl robin.

batgirl and robin are passed down. all the (main) robins in order are: dick, jason, tim, stephanie, then back to tim, and then damian (im pretty sure tim is robin in comics rn alongside damian but most fics have him as red robin). some people include maps in that but i normally don’t. batgirl has only three: barbara gordon, cassandra cain, and stephanie brown. then there’s also tiffany fox, who im pretty sure is said to be batgirl in the future? i’ve yet to see her in many fics and i think i read one comic that had her but that was forever ago.

[munnmolads]

"Who are you?" - Rafayel's Nightly Stroll Theory/Headcanon

My thoughts about Rafayel's jabs about forgetting MC during Nightly stroll and theory on what might have happened before the game events. Spoilers for Nightly Stroll, Under Deepspace main story and Rafayel's story branch.

Recap from Nightly Stroll - Rafayel gets injured and gets into the hospital. He calls MC to visit him in the morning, and she arrives there late at night. Angry at her lateness, Rafayel pretends to forget MC.

Later in the story we learn that this is a jab at MC actually forgetting him. They met much earlier as kids and made a promise to meet again the spot next year.

Only later in the story branch MC gets to know about her forgetting Rafayel.

Something I want to point out with the branch relating to their meeting even if it's slightly off-topic, their meeting happened 14 years ago, so MC was around 7-8 years old, and Rafayel was 10. I believe MC is referring to the experiments that we can read more about "Sealed in Dust" World Underneath story, and her age during those experiments was specified in Under Deepspace Chapter 5-1. MC still doesn't know the full extent to her experiments and doesn't connect yet that those memory losses are related to them.

While Rafayel says that he didn't ACTUALLY wait for her, he still seemed to hope that they would meet again. As if this isn't heartbreaking enough, I have wondered one thing... How he knew MC truly forgot about him?

In main story chapter 2 when they meet "for the first time", he doesn't seem to be surprised about the fact that she doesn't recognize him. He seems like he already knows she has forgotten about him, and keeps up the facade of not knowing who she is. Only after chapter 7 he shows how bitter he is over it.

Then going back to him mentioning "settling a score with her"... While I feel that we might never know what that actually meant, I feel him "forgetting" MC back is one of his ways to get back at her, in a very specific way. In addition to Nightly Stroll, he very momentarily pretends to forget MC again because he's angry with her. If you don't log in for 30 days, you will get a new interaction with the guys in the cafe, he will say this:

(thanks to SORAII for uploading a video of it, I am way too obsessed with this game to do this)

While this moment is shorter than in Nightly Stroll, it has the similar theme: He asks who MC is, and mentions that she looks kind of familar. I don't know about in other languages, but in EN voiceover he also raises his pitch a teeny bit here, and in Nightly stroll it's obviously higher.

Here is where my theory/headcanon comes in; MC has said those words to him. They met again after MC forgot everything, and ironically, has forgotten about it. And he's mocking her for it.

I imagine Rafayel did approach her after finding her - being ecstatic that he finally found her, only to hear those words. It also makes sense considering how convoluded his methods of trying to involve himself into her life have been but still never approach her until the main story starts. Also, considering how bitter he is about it and how he sincerely wanted MC to use the bond to make him not to hold a grudge anymore.

And for her, she thought she just met some guy who mistook her for someone else.

[kikimurphys]

I just can’t

One shot.

Warnings: Cheating, Smut.

" We shouldn't be doing this," you murmured between breathless kisses, your fingers clutching the fabric of his jacket as his hands roamed your body, gripping your waist and pulling you closer.

"I know," he whispered, his lips grazing the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of heat down to your collarbone.

"I'm engaged," you gasped, the words tumbling out like a confession as your hands clung to his shoulders, desperate and trembling.

"I know," Cillian replied, his voice low and rough as his fingers found the hem of your dress, pushing it higher. He cupped your ass, his touch igniting sparks that made you moan softly. "This is the last time."

"The last time," you echoed, though the words were more for you than for him, a fragile attempt at convincing yourself. Your resolve crumbled as you pulled him into a searing kiss, your hands sliding beneath his jacket, shoving it down his arms.

You always told yourself this would be the end. That you'd finally walk away. But it was a lie, and you both knew it. Something about him, about this, always pulled you back in—no matter how hard you tried to resist. You were already engaged when you met Cillian, but the heart is never bound by logic. It wants what it wants, and yours wanted him.

Before you met Cillian nearly a year ago, you were certain your future was exactly what you wanted. You had been with Greg for almost a decade—your first love, your only love. Or so you thought. You didn’t know any different. You didn’t know what real happiness or love felt like until you saw it reflected in the most captivating pair of pale blue eyes.

It was at a birthday party for a mutual actor friend. You’d slipped out onto the balcony for a cigarette, shivering as the biting Irish cold seeped through your short black dress and into your bones. The thin fabric offered no protection, and your high heels didn’t make standing out there any easier. You weren’t used to this kind of weather, and it showed.

Then he appeared, stepping outside with an easy confidence, a faint smile on his lips. He shrugged off his coat and offered it to you without hesitation. “You’ll freeze out here,” he said in that unmistakable accent, his voice a low murmur against the wind.

You took it gratefully, wrapping yourself in his warmth, and in return, you handed him a cigarette. That exchange led to a conversation that lasted the rest of the night.

You’d known who he was, of course—Cillian Murphy, the actor. But meeting him in person was entirely different. There was an effortless magnetism to him, an intensity in the way he listened, his pale blue eyes fixed on yours as though they were the only thing that mattered. And when you said his name, you swore his gaze darkened, his lips curving slightly at the sound.

“I’m engaged,” you had confessed at some point, the words feeling strange in the open air between you.

It didn’t seem to faze him. He leaned in just enough to blur the lines between casual and intimate. “Maybe we could have a drink next time you’re in town,” he said, his tone as light as the smile he wore, though his eyes hinted at something far heavier. He gave you his number, and you kept it, telling yourself it was harmless.

A few weeks later, you were in Dublin again. You texted him to meet for a drink at your hotel bar. “Just a friend,” you’d told yourself. You even planned an early night.

But you never finished your drink. Before you knew it, he was following you back to your hotel room.

Since then, the two of you had been entangled in a secret affair, hidden in the shadows of your work. You were filming in Dublin, and he made every excuse to be near you. It wasn’t just sex—it had long since stopped being about that.

Cillian cooked you dinner and took you to places he thought you’d like, his thoughtfulness surprising you every time. In turn, you brought him little tokens, things that reminded you of him, things you knew would make him smile. You were like any other couple, except it was a secret.

He nipped gently at the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath hot against your ear. “You know what would make this easier,” he murmured, his voice low and weighted with meaning.

Your fingers clenched his shirt instinctively, your body betraying your inner turmoil. “What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his pale blue eyes searching yours. “If you’d leave him and come with me.”

Before you could respond, his lips captured yours in a desperate, consuming kiss, as if silencing the words he couldn’t bear to hear. He already knew your answer—it was always the same.

“I can’t, Cill,” you gasped when you finally pulled away, your voice trembling. “I do love him… just not the same way I love you. It’s confusing. I can’t—I can’t—I just can’t.”

Your words spilled out in a frantic rush as his lips trailed down your chest, grounding you in the intensity of the moment.

The truth was, you were terrified. You always had been, and Cillian knew it. You had been with Greg for half your life, and those years meant something to you. Every time the subject came up, he could see the battle in your eyes—how your mind drifted to the memories you shared with Greg, to the times he made you laugh, to the comfort of the life you’d built together. Those thoughts were like an anchor, pulling you back from Cillian every time.

But Cillian wasn’t ready to let you go. He had a plan, one that simmered quietly in his heart. If he could make you laugh more, love more, feel more alive than you ever had before, maybe—just maybe—you’d choose him. If he could create more joyful memories with you than Greg ever had, then one day, you might see that your place was with him.

And if it took time, he was willing to wait. He would wait a lifetime if that’s what it took. Because he believed, deep down, that if he made you happier, you’d come to him. You had to.

His hands slid down your sides, steadying you as your knees threatened to give way under the weight of his words and his touch. “You don’t have to decide now,” he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing the hollow of your collarbone. “But you’ll have to decide eventually. You can’t keep living like this. We can’t keep living like this.”

You hated the truth in his words. Every stolen moment with Cillian brought you closer to the edge of a decision you weren’t ready to make. Your mind kept returning to Greg—the man who’d been there for you through everything. He was dependable, stable, good. You loved him, you did. But then there was Cillian, who made your heart race in a way Greg never could, who saw you, really saw you, in ways you didn’t even see yourself.

“You say that, but you’ve stayed this long,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of guilt and longing. “If it’s so unbearable, why haven’t you walked away?”

He stilled, his hands resting on your hips as his forehead came to rest against yours. For a moment, there was only the sound of your mingled breaths, the silence between you heavy with unspoken truths.

“Because I can’t,” he finally admitted, his voice raw and quiet. “Because when I look at you, I see everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I didn’t think I deserved. You make me believe I’m more than just… me. You make me feel like I’m alive.”

The vulnerability in his voice broke something inside you. Without thinking, you pulled him into a kiss—a kiss that spoke the words you were too afraid to say aloud. It was deep, desperate, and full of the emotions you kept locked away. Tears slipped from your eyes, spilling down your cheeks and onto his as your lips moved together.

Cillian cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the wet streaks, his touch as tender as his kiss was consuming. “Don’t cry,” he murmured against your lips, his breath warm and shaky. “Please don’t cry.”

You couldn’t stop. The weight of everything—your love for him, your fear, your guilt—was too much. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He shook his head, his forehead pressed to yours. “Don’t be sorry. Just be here. With me.”

Before you could respond, he scooped you into his arms, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you afloat. He carried you to the bed, his movements deliberate, his gaze never leaving yours.

As he laid you down, his hands traced your body with a reverence that made your heart ache. You reached for him, pulling him closer until there was no space between you, just the heat of your shared breath and the rhythm of your hearts.

“Make love to me, Cill,” you whispered, your voice trembling but steady, your green eyes locking with his. They were filled with a quiet plea, a desperate need to lose yourself in him, to forget everything else.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Cillian stood and stripped himself bare, his movements unhurried but deliberate. He kicked his pants aside and returned to you, his body warm and inviting as he hovered over you. Your lips met his again, a fiery, unspoken connection passing between you as your arms and legs wrapped around him, holding him close.

His hands moved with practiced ease, peeling your dress away and tossing it carelessly to the floor. He unclasped your bra, his eyes drinking in the sight of you as his lips descended to your skin. He kissed down your chest, lingering at your breasts as his tongue flicked over your sensitive nipples. The soft nip of his teeth sent shivers through your body, your back arching in response to the exquisite sensation.

As he continued his slow, deliberate descent, his hands found the waistband of your panties. He slid them down and off in one smooth motion, discarding them without a second thought. His fingers brushed over your wet folds, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips as pleasure coursed through you.

He looked up, his blue eyes dark and hungry as he watched your reaction. The corners of his lips tugged into the faintest smile, one laced with satisfaction.

“Please,” you gasped, your voice breaking on the single word, your hips instinctively bucking against his hand.

He captured your lips again, his kiss deep and consuming as he pushed your legs open, his hands gliding down to caress the sensitive skin of your thighs. One hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin, while the other moved to position himself at your entrance.

Cillian pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his blue eyes dark with desire but soft with emotion. Without breaking eye contact, he rolled his hips forward, entering you with a slow, deliberate thrust. You both gasped at the connection, the air between you electric. His forehead rested against yours, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

Your eyes locked, your breaths mingling as he began to move. Each thrust was unhurried yet powerful, his body pressed firmly against yours. His lips brushed yours in fleeting, tender kisses as your heels dug into his back, pulling him closer, deeper.

The pleasure built quickly, your body responding to his every movement. He groaned low in his throat, his head tilting back briefly as his eyes squeezed shut, lost in the sensation. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound mixing with your gasps and the rhythm of your bodies.

His hand found your breast, his grip firm as he squeezed, drawing a moan from you. The skin of his hips slapped against yours, the intensity rising as you felt yourself nearing the edge.

As the tension reached its peak, his movements slowed for a brief moment. His hand came to cradle your cheek again, tilting your face upward. “Look at me,” he whispered, his voice rough with passion and emotion.

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and time seemed to still. His blue eyes bore into yours, filled with a depth of feeling that made your heart ache. “I love you,” he told you, thrusting deeper.

“I love you too,” you responded, your voice trembling as you felt yourself climbing higher and higher toward your orgasm.

The connection pushed you both over the edge. His hips quickened, and you cried out as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your body trembling beneath him. His jaw tightened as he groaned deeply, his eyes never leaving yours as he followed you into release.

Breathing heavily, you clung to each other, your foreheads pressed together once more. Your heart thundered in your chest, matching the rhythm of his, as the world slowly came back into focus.

Cillian’s hands were still gently resting on your body, as if unwilling to let go, even in the aftermath. He looked at you with an intensity that sent another wave of emotion rushing through you. His voice, hoarse and raw, broke the silence.

“Please, Y/N, come with me. I can’t share you anymore.”

His words hung in the air, both a plea and a promise.

You looked into his eyes, searching for the sincerity, the depth of what he was asking. And there it was—no more doubts, no more hesitation. Just love, raw and unapologetic. You felt a warmth spread through you, the decision that had been weighing on you finally becoming clear.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion. “I will.”

tags:

@mamawiggers1980 @xsweetcatastrophe @galactict3a @thistheivyseason @cillianmurphyvevo @sweetcheesecakesblog @cillianmurphyfanatic @meadowshelby

[mseden-fries]

Lemme just say, right off the bat, that your art is so freaking amazing.

I was in the Hey, Arnold! fandom eons ago, (in the 90s), and used to write fics for it. (I was Carrot Top at the time.) I loved loved loved Helga, and she has always been in my top 5 favorite cartoon characters of all time.

You write them so well, and I've been having such a good time going through your blog and checking out the comic.

Super, super well done. Thank you for sharing!

Gah! Ur gonna make me cry 🥹 I actually didn’t become a fan until I was around 10 years old myself and although I did like art, I wasn’t sure what kind of art I wanted to pursue in the future. It wasn’t until I watched the hey Arnold movie, the first one, that I knew what I wanted to do which was to create comics. I actually remember never watching an episode just watching the movie over and over and over and not even realizing that there was a show for it 😅 but then we were pretty poor and actually our house just burned down so we were staying in a church house until we found a new place to live and they had a lot of VCR’s that we could watch including a bright orange nickelodeon VCR titled the Hey Arnold movie.

I remember joining the fan group on Facebook that was called the Hey Arnold save the jungle movie and being a part of the fan base when the movie finally got made and just being super excited about it like it was a dream come true ❤️ I can say with complete certainty that the reason I pursue making comics now is all because of hey Arnold, it is my first love and I’m having fun making this comic and I’m glad that people actually enjoy reading it too! I started making this years after the hype died down, but there was still a lot that I felt was left unsaid in the jungle movie that as a fan, I wanted to explore not to take away from the original, but I just needed more

And that’s why I’m doing this, also to improve myself

Sorry, that was probably not the question you asked, but I feel like I had to get that out lol! When things were tough growing up, I could pop in that orange VCR tape and feel a little better about everything  



[pacific-coast-hockey]

I messed up, it was Shin Larsson himself who brought up how evil Victor is. Also fascinating interview and I love when you can tell how Nolly is just so psyched to have someone new and interesting to interview.

Transcript forthcoming, I will edit it into this post when I am done! 🫡 Transcript below ⬇️

[TRANSCRIBER NOTE: there is significant background noise from the arena underneath the interviews. Most of it is cheering or talking, some singing.]

NICK NOLLENBERGER (NN): We’ve got a very special guest up in the broadcast booth. Joining us on the road, Shin Larsson, the Director of Amateur Scouting for the San Jose Sharks. Shin, what brings you all the way out here to Abbotsford?

SHIN LARSSON (SL): Uh, we actually have meetings coming up here, starting on Thursday in San Jose. So we gonna meet with the whole amateur group, uh, and I came a little bit earlier to watch, um, some junior hockey games and uh, luckily there was a Barracuda game here where in the area where I was too.

NN: So it works out perfectly seeing the Barracuda – I don’t know how many times have you–have you really been able to see the team. You live full-time in Sweden and obviously scouting throughout Europe. How–how many times do you get to see the Barracuda on a yearly basis?

SL: Yeah, uh, not–not very often. Uh, maybe once a year when I come over, I watch a couple of games, and uh, when you don’t see them that often, uh, it’s, uh, really exciting once you get over, uh, and get to see them live and not on the TV.

NN: So we’re right in the middle of the season, this is actually the halfway point for the Barracuda, the Sharks kinda in the thick of the middle of the seasons as well. You mentioned mid-season meetings, what does this time of year look like for the scouting department?

SL: Uh, I think it’s yeah, a hectic time of the year, the World Juniors is just over with, and uh, there’s really not that much left of the season, it goes really quick once, uh, January comes. Uh, so this is a good time to go, uh, over, uh, all of the players we’ve seen at this point and kind of narrow it down and focus on the ones, uh, we have the most interest in for the draft.

NN: Obviously the Sharks are looking like they’re going to draft pretty high. They picked first overall last year, they also picked I believe tenth overall taking Sam Dickinson after Macklin Celebrini. It’s been a really productive last couple of years for your staff, for Mike Grier’s crew since he took over three years ago. Under Mike, under this new stewardship of the San Jose Sharks, do you guys feel like as a collective unit, as kind of uh–uh, a vision, do guys feel like you’re all lockstep now you have a couple years under your belt as a group?

SL: Definitely, I think this is, uh, year three under Mike and, uh, I think it’s been, uh, a big change in the beginning but now everything is, uh, clicking and, uh, we–we kind of know what Mike is looking for, and what kind of identity we want on the team going forward here, so. Uh, like you said, I think last two or three years, some really good drafts, uh, a lot of players with, uh, really good potential of helping the team here.

NN: When you’re doing amateur scouting, in the NHL, kids are drafted as teenagers, 18 years of age. It’s hard to predict the future because usually it’s three or four years out for any of these guys. It’s really hard, I would believe, to predict the future for players in Europe because in many ways it’s a different style of play out there. So what you looking out there from an amateur standpoint? What are the things that stick out for young players? And how do you predict the future?

SL: Yeah, that’s, uh, so hard. It’s almost like a lottery sometimes, but, uh, at least they’re seventeen, eighteen years old. It’s even worse when they’re uh, drafted into the junior leagues here, or the junior programs in Sweden. So there, uh, a good step on the way, I think when you, uh, draft them early in the first round, they’re, uh, usually already in the pro-leagues over here in Sweden and, uh, you just gotta, uh, keep working on, uh, making those final steps to–to make an impression over here as well. 

NN: Well the Sharks have a couple of games with guys, European players, I think Cherynshov was just sent, obviously, to the OHL, you–you have other guys, Halttunen who’s in the OHL as well, these guys who grow up on the other side of the, uh, of the world, what is the benefit of bringing them over to the CHL, kind of introducing them to the North American style?

SL: I think it’s just, uh, first of all, kind of, uh, game overall with the smaller rinks, and, uh, usually more games too. Uh, they’re not used to playing that many games, so that helps them on the way to uh, becoming NHL players to–to play this many games, if you look at Bystedt [Transcriber’s note: he pronounces it BYE-stedt] here, he–he played a couple years pro in Sweden but even this is different because this is more games and it’s uh, sometimes Friday, Saturday, Sunday games, and, uh, it’s gonna help him, uh, mature a lot in the way of, uh, becoming NHL player.

NN: You mentioned–you mentioned Filip Bystedt [Transcriber’s note: he pronounces it BEE-stedt] coming over from Sweden, this is his first season in North America. Big body, obviously, you see kind of the physical attributes. What made him kind of an intriguing player when you were going through the draft process? You probably saw him a lot over in Sweden – what made him a guy that you–you liked, you targeted where you did in the first round? 

SL: I think he’s always one of the better players in the age group over there. Uh, he has really all the tools, he’s–he’s got the size, he’s got the hockey sense, he’s got the, uh, puck game, uh he’s just gotta put all that together and then he has all the potential to be able to become a good, uh, NHL player for us.

NN: We’re talking to Shin Larsson, director for the European scouting for the San Jose Sharks, happens to be here in Abbotsford to take in some Barracuda hockey tonight and take in some Western League hockey as well. I wanna ask for a scouting report quickly, Victor Eklund, younger brother of William, Sharks forward, he’s going to be in this draft, some have him pegged to be potentially a top pick. Give us the scouting report on the young brother.

SL: Yeah, they’re uh, a little bit different. He’s–he’s the wilder one, I think. He’s uh, not that big of a guy, but he’s totally fearless, goes into the battles hundred percent, usually comes out with the pucks too, and–and he has a nose for the net as well. Uh, so that would be something, to–to have both of them on the one team.

NN: [Transcriber’s note: he sounds absolutely delighted as he talks] I always think it’s funny when the younger brother has that type of style of play ‘cause he was probably getting beat up his whole life, so he had to be tough, right? William was, I know, a good brother, probably didn’t beat him up, you know how it is when younger, uh, younger brothers come up through the ranks, it’s gonna be fun to see where he ends up ultimately landing. [Transcriber’s note: he goes back to being serious here.] One more question for you, we–we asked you about the mid-season meetings, all the scouts getting together, a great opportunity not only to talk about the draft, but also bond with guys you probably don’t get to see throughout the year. What’s one characteristic that this regime identifies in players? Is there one that kinda can go through every guy?

SL: I think it’s, uh, compete. That’s uh–if we’re gonna say one word or one thing that sticks out, it’s the compete. 

NN: Shin Larsson, kind enough to join us. Great to see you, I saw your name on the list of scouts and I thought, no way, Shin’s in town, so let’s get him on air. So thank you for the time, safe travels back to the Bay Area, hopefully we’ll see you when we get there as well.

SL: Thank you for having me.

NN: Shin Larsson, the Director of European Scouting for the San Jose Sharks just happens to be here in Abbotsford and kind enough to join us in the broadcast booth. 3-3 is our score through 40, back in a moment, this is Barracuda hockey on the Sharks Audio Network.

Nolly dragging the Sharks' Director of European Scouting out of the crowd at Abbotsford and holding up a mic to him and going "Victor Eklund. He's eviler than William. Thoughts? Can we get him??" He's just like Sharks lb fr

[marlynnofmany]

Exciting update on the "Making the House Awesome" front:

(The cat has already tried to use the mock-stonework as a scratching post, but not the door, which actually looks like wood. Cat logic.)

Anyways, this is looking great, and we're very excited.

[liuisi]

hm.

[bigpeepee]

okay so i am once again in a bit of a pickle due to the fact that i never learn from my mistakes :)

[pepprs]

idk how to reconcile my new self with my old self. also i fucking hate waiting. GRAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[gingersnapwolves]

So today I want to talk about puberty blockers for transgender kids, because despite being cisgender, this is a subject I’m actually well-versed in. Specifically, I want to talk about how far backwards things have gone.

This story starts almost 20 years ago, and it’s kind of long, but I think it’s important to give you the full history. At the time, I was working as an administrative assistant for a pediatric endocrinologist in a red state. Not a deep deep red state like Alabama, we had a little bit of a purple trend, but still very much red. (I don’t want to say the state at the risk of doxxing myself.) And I took a phone call from a woman who said, “My son is transgender. Does your doctor do hormone therapy?”

I said, “Good question! Let me find out.”

I went into the back and found the doctor playing Solitaire on his computer and said, “Do you do hormone therapy for transgender kids?” It had literally never come up before. He had opened his practice there in the early 2000s. This was roughly 2006, and the first time someone asked. Without looking up from his game of Solitaire, the doctor said, “I’ve never done it before, but I know how it works, so sure.”

I got back on the phone and told the mom, who was overjoyed, and scheduled an appointment for her son. He was the first transgender child we treated with puberty blockers. But not, by far, the first child we treated with puberty blockers, period. Because puberty blockers are used very commonly for children with precocious puberty (early-onset puberty). I would say about twenty percent of the kids our doctor treated were for precocious puberty and were on puberty blockers. They have been well studied and are widely used, safe, and effective.

Well. It turned out, the doctor I worked for was the only doctor in the state who was willing to do this. And word spread pretty fast in the tight-knit community of ‘parents of transgender children in a red state’. We started seeing more kids. A better drug came out. We saw some kids who were at the age where they were past puberty, and prescribed them estrogen or testosterone. Our doctor became, I’m fairly sure, a small folk hero to this community. 

Insurance coverage was a struggle. I remember copying articles and pages out of the Endocrine Society Manual to submit with prior authorization requests for the medications. Insurance coverage was a struggle for a lot of what we did, though. Growth hormone for kids with severe idiopathic short stature. Insulin pumps, which weren’t as common at the time, and then continuous glucose monitoring, when that came out. Insurance struggles were just part and parcel of the job.

I remember vividly when CVS Caremark, a pharmaceutical management company, changed their criteria and included gender dysphoria as a covered diagnosis for puberty blockers. I thought they had put the option on the questionnaire to trigger an automatic denial. But no - it triggered an approval. Medicaid started to cover it. I got so good at getting approvals with my by then tidy packet of articles and documentation that I actually had people in other states calling me to see what I was submitting (the pharmaceutical rep gave them my number because they wanted more people on their drug, which, shady, but sure. He did ask me if it was okay first).

And here’s the key point of this story:

At no point, during any of this, did it ever even occur to any of us that we might have to worry about whether or not what we were doing was legal.

It just never even came up. It was the medically recommended treatment so we did it. And seeing what’s happening in the UK and certain states in America is both terrifying and genuinely shocking to me, as someone who did this for almost fifteen years, without ever even wondering about the legality of it.

The doctor retired some years ago, at which point there were two other doctors in the state who were willing to prescribe the medications for transgender kids. I truly think that he would still be working if nobody else had been willing to take those kids on as patients. He was, by the way, a white cisgender heterosexual Boomer. I remember when he was introduced to the concept of ‘genderfluid’ because one of our patients on HRT wanted to go off. He said ‘that’s so interesting!’ and immediately went to Google to learn more about it. 

I watched these kids transform. I saw them come into the office the first time, sometimes anxious and uncertain, sometimes sullen and angry. I saw them come in the subsequent times, once they were on hormone therapy, how they gradually became happy and confident in themselves. I saw the smiles on their faces when I gave them a gender marker letter for the DMV. I heard them cheer when I called to tell them I’d gotten HRT approved by insurance and we were calling in a prescription. It was honestly amazing and I will always consider the work I did in that red state with those kids to be something I am incredibly proud of. I was honored to be a part of it.

When I see all this transgender backlash, it’s horrifying, because it was well on the way to become standard and accepted treatment. Insurances started to cover it. Other doctors were learning to prescribe it. And now … it’s fucking illegal? Like what the actual fuck. We have gone so far backwards that it makes me want to cry. I don’t know how to stop this slide. But I wrote this so people would understand exactly how steep the slide is.

[spagheddiesquash]

watching older cartoons with the sound effects and everything is an interesting experience when youre so used to seeing the sounds used ironically. like for example i hear that POINK!! like. the poking noise. and im like oh shit i know that sound. from Cartoons. until i realize Oh wait im WATCHING Cartoons

[guinevereslancelot]

i really be out here having cute flirty moments with guys that i absolutely should not date and then not even noticing when they ask me out