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zepskies · 4 months

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Make It Right

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Summary: He didn’t mean to claim you. Not like this. Not before he’s meant to die.

AN: This was requested by this lovely anon. I've written Dean returning from Purgatory, so here is Dean returning from Hell in season 4, but with a twist…my first venture into A/B/O! Sorry if I didn’t get the dynamics quite right, I’m still learning this one. 😘

(@luci-in-trenchcoats Thank you for the encouragement! 💜)

Word Count: 4,300

Warnings: 18+ only! For smut, A/B/O dynamics, angst, mentions of torture, PTSD, and hurt/comfort.

You could’ve wept with relief.

You nearly did. Instead, you shuddered as his tongue swept along the fresh mark near the back of your neck.

A mark that claimed you as his.

Your core still quivered with the aftershocks of how hard you came around his cock, which was still buried deep inside you, locked in place with his knot. Dean nosed at your neck and shoulder as he tried to regain his breath, calm his wildly beating heart.

His skin was dewy against yours, especially where your thighs were hooked around his hips. He held himself above you so he wouldn’t crush you with his weight. You appreciated it, and you soothed up and down his sweat-slick back with grazing fingertips.

Through the newly formed bond, you could feel the frenzied haze of it all begin to clear from his mind, soon replaced by shock, and then, remorse. It made a tremor of worry churn in your belly.

“Dean?” you whispered. Your gaze met his with concern as you grasped his arm.

“What the hell did we just… I shouldn’t have…” His voice was coarse and his eyes filled with upset. “Fuck, this shouldn’t have happened.”

Dismay struck you deep, along with a pain that tore at your heart. Your only consolation was that the two of you were locked in this position, so he couldn’t slip away from you.

“How the hell could you say that to me?” you said. Against your will, your voice trembled. Tears began to sting in your eyes.

Dean faltered. He blew out a breath and reached for your cheek.

“You know why,” he said. His face became edged with desperation. He shifted his thigh and accidentally tugged at the base of his knot. You both groaned at the pain that flared between you, where you were joined.

Dean drew in deep, slower breaths in attempt to calm himself. His eyes shut, and his forehead dropped against yours.

“I’ve barely got three months left on my deal,” he said, through clenched teeth. “This isn’t…it’s not fucking fair to you.”

To you either, you wanted to point out, but you shook your head and held him close by the back of his neck. Your fingers trailed up into his hair, your nails brushing his scalp and eliciting a shudder from him.

Your touch both aroused him and soothed him. Your scent was everywhere, now mingled with his own that now covered you like a blanket. It was intense, and a bit overwhelming to his senses.

But it felt right.

“Don’t talk like you’ve already given up,” you said tersely.

It was with more vehemence than he expected. Dean pulled back a bit, just enough to meet your eyes. Your brows had drawn together, almost in anger. Your lips pulled into a frown.

“We’re going to find a way to break it,” you said. You reached up and held his face. Despite the strength of your words, your hands were gentle. “And I meant what I said, Dean.”

Between lusty sighs and the combined magnetic force of your heat and his rut and emotional tensions at their ultimate breaking point, the whispered words against his neck had come from the very center of you.

“Alpha,” you’d said, through abject need and burgeoning tears as you’d rubbed yourself against him. It was both biology and your heart’s longing. “Dean, I love you. Please…”

The tether of his restraint hadn’t lasted long after that. Because even though he couldn’t respond to you in words, he’d shown you in each and every action of his body molding with yours, wrecking you and claiming you on a dingy motel bed.

You deserve better, Dean thought, looking down on you now. You deserved more than what he had to give.

“I didn’t want to do this to you,” he said coarsely.

And yet, he still heeded the pull of you. Your guiding hands brought him down to your lips. It wasn’t the rough, manic, bruising kiss that had fueled your earlier passions. No, this was slow and warm and tinged with bittersweet.

Dean brushed sweaty strands of your hair away from your face. You held him to you and silently prayed that he wouldn’t let go either.

“I know,” you said. Even though the situation shouldn’t have warranted it, you giggled a little. “That makes you just about the most unselfish Alpha in existence.”

He snorted at that. His eyes took in your face, and further down, to the parts of you that weren’t covered by his body over yours. He let out a breath of defeat.

“No, I’m hella selfish,” he said. His lips quirked. “For better or worse, you’re mine, Omega.”

Your smile grew. “Good. Glad you’re finally caught up.”

Dean’s hand playfully tightened in your hair as he growled. It had little heat though, and you had the audacity to laugh. He shook his head and claimed you with another kiss.

You had to be just about the wiliest Omega in existence.

Dean never gave up.

But he also couldn’t fight off Lilith, or the hellhounds that tore his chest open and spilled his blood on the hardwood floors of some poor family’s suburban house.

You screamed as if your very soul was being ripped apart, along with his skin.

The mark on your neck burned something fierce. It had you clamping a hand down over it as you sunk to your knees next to Sam and cried over Dean’s body, his unseeing eyes. It wasn’t right.

You would never be right again.

It took about a week into your self-isolation. When you finally drew enough strength to get out of bed, you finally noticed it in the mirror—in the bathroom next to Bobby’s guest bedroom.

Your neck looked as if something had burned you. Your eyes widened in horror.

When you touched it, you hissed at the pain. The delicate nerve endings of your mating gland were even more sensitive and raw. Apparently, this was what happened when an Alpha mate died before their Omega.

However, even that pain was nothing compared to what you discovered, two months later.

Your mating gland had healed, and the claim mark was gone entirely.

You sank against the wall, all the way to the floor, and you cried until you were exhausted and frayed. Not even Bobby’s offer of a hot meal and a listening ear could penetrate your grief.

You were ashamed of the way you lost track of Sam after it all went down. You’d descended into yourself, and Bobby had been the only one there to catch you. Sam had forged on by himself, down a spiral of revenge, you were sure.

He wouldn’t come back to Sioux Falls, nor would he tell you where he was when you finally got him on the phone. He claimed he was better off alone as he tried to find a way to save Dean, but there was something off in his voice. Something that told you whatever he was doing was dangerous, and wrong.

“Sam, don’t you dare make a deal,” you demanded, through frustrated and sorrowful tears. “Dean wouldn’t want—”

“Don’t fucking tell me…what Dean would want, okay?” Sam seethed. “If it were me, he wouldn’t stop. If it were you, he wouldn’t stop. So don’t tell me to stop.”

“I’m not telling you to stop!” you shouted back. “I’m telling you not to do something stupid! And I’m asking you to let me help.”

There was a long pause on the line. You tried to calm your labored breathing as you waited for him.

“If you really want to help me, do what you can from Bobby’s. I’ll check in when I can,” he said.

And the line went dead.

Two more months had passed by the time you started to feel the barest hint of yourself again. You’d tried to go on a hunt with Bobby, but you really hadn’t been ready for it. Your head wasn’t in it, and that was how hunters got killed.

So you stayed behind and answered the phones for him. You pretended to be FBI and CIA and Homeland Security for fellow hunters trying to get their hands on police files.

You also helped Bobby with research and reorganized his extensive, and ridiculously chaotic home library. He was the only one you knew who could have A History of Paganism next to a guidebook on Chinese tea ceremonies.

But one night, you decided you were sick of sitting on your ass (and all the dust).

You were finally going out for a drink.

Bobby was locked at home in research for a case. You felt bad about bailing on him, but he insisted you were entitled to go out…

Not that you wanted to meet anyone. However, you did realize that you needed to reconnect with the outside world. You’d been staring at the peeling walls of Bobby’s house for four months now.

So you showered, found a simple black dress from deep in your closet, and started to blow-dry your hair. You didn’t do this often, but if you were going out, then you were going to make an effort.

You paused for a moment when a cramp hit your lower belly. You grimaced and pressed a hand there. A shiver ran down your spine.

Shit, not now, you thought. If this was your heat coming on, you would have to take another suppressant before you went out. You knew blocking your cycle wasn’t that good for you, but you hadn’t felt like dealing with it for the past few months. You just weren’t ready to go through another heat, whether by yourself, or with a stranger.

It…it was too soon.

After the cramping subsided for the moment, you continued drying parts of your hair, sweeping the brush through. With the hairdryer so loud in your ears, you didn’t hear the front door opening, or the resulting shouting and scuffle coming from downstairs.

Eventually, there was quiet. And then, heavy boots climbing up the stairs.

You saw the bathroom door push open out of the corner of your eye. You turned and nearly jumped right out of your skin.

Your scream echoed on the walls when you saw something that looked entirely too much like Dean Winchester.

Hit scent hit you then. Warm and musky, a hint of earthiness and soil, but no less familiar. It struck a blow to your chest and forced you to grip the counter for balance. You clicked off the hairdryer.

The doppelganger raised placating hands, though his wide eyes slowly softened as a smile tugged at his lips.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said.

His deep voice was the same. He looked dirty and disheveled, wearing a familiar gray buttoned down over a black shirt, his usual jeans, and boots. If your memory served, they looked like the clothes he was buried in…

Your hands shook. “Wh…what the hell are you?”

Dean’s smile began to fall.

“Look, I know it’s hard to believe. But I’m me. I’m, uh… I’m back,” he replied. When he tried taking a cautious step forward, you brandished your hairdryer against him—your only feasible weapon.

“You…you back the fuck off!” you snapped. You opened your mouth to shout for Bobby, but before you could, Dean’s trademark smirk took hold of his face.

“What’re you gonna do, blow me to death?” he quipped.

After you broke through a bit of your shock, you spluttered with laughter. And then tears.

Dean’s lips quirked, but he moved towards you in slow steps. He took the hairdryer from you and set it down on the counter. With a slightly shaking hand, he touched your cheek. You closed your eyes for a moment, sucked in a breath, and inadvertently inhaled his scent once again.

Your heart pounded almost painfully in your chest. Your fingers curled into the front of his shirt. You realized it then. You didn’t need silver or holy water to prove it was him. You knew.

Your eyes opened and met his.

“Dean,” you uttered, brokenly.

He couldn’t fucking take it anymore. Dean pulled you into him by your waist. He held you as you shuddered and cried into his chest. His hand clenched in your hair, while the other pressed into the small of your back. It anchored him, and trapped you in the cage of his arms.

He buried his nose into your neck and had to squeeze his eyes shut past a telltale burn in his eyes. Your name fell from his lips, both longing and reverent. Your hold on him tightened.

His lips brushed against your mating gland, igniting sensitive nerve endings and making a tremble run down your spine.

“Alpha,” you whispered.

Dean’s insides clenched in response. He ached for you, just like he had soon after he’d been able to free himself from that pine box in the middle of nowhere. But his brows furrowed.

He pulled back from you, just so he could brush the bare skin along your neck with a gentle thumb.

“What happened to the mark?” he asked. He realized that he couldn’t feel you, not like before. And even your scent was different…like you’d never been claimed by him. Like you weren’t his. That realization hit him like a sucker punch to his stomach.

You frowned and leaned back so you could meet Dean’s eyes. It took you a moment to find your voice, and even when you did, it was uncharacteristically small.

“After…after what happened, it burned like holy hell,” you confessed. Your hands travelled down his chest, clinging to the open edges of his shirt. “Then it was a scar. Then, it was just…nothing. It was gone.”

Fresh tears burgeoned in your eyes. They spilled down your cheeks as your frame shook with a sob, but Dean gathered you back into his arms. As shitty as it was, he started to think this was actually for the better…

“What happened, Dean? How are you here?” you asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Haven’t figured that part out just yet…but something broke me out.”

He knew it wasn’t you who made a deal. Your shock was too real to be an act. He knew, however, that he needed to find Sam.

That could wait though. Dean’s gaze roamed your face. He wiped away the remnants of tears from your cheeks, brushed his thumb across your lower lip. Your eyes met his. He saw your heartbreak begin to fade—into a desire that called to his own. Despite the voice inside that warned him to hold back, he just couldn’t help himself.

When he finally leaned in to kiss you, it felt like coming home. You held his face in your hands and rose up on your toes to meet him. His arms wrapped around your waist and brought you flush against him, but it wasn’t enough.

Kisses became more frantic, with labored breaths and hands moving to remove each other’s clothing. Your sexy little black dress fell to the floor, along with your bra and panties and the rest of his clothes.

“You’re filthy,” you laughed, between the sloppy meeting of your lips with his.

Dean’s response was to peel back the shower curtain behind you and turn on the shower head, as hot as it could go. A growl sounded low in his throat before he bodily hefted you along with him into the shower and under the spray.

For a moment, he let the scalding water beat down on him. You grabbed the soap and drew it over his neck, chest, and shoulders. The suds trickled down his body, washing away the grime of the road, and whatever else he hadn't been able to wipe off after escaping his grave.

He blinked water out of his eyes as he took in the sight of your concentrated face, and your gentle hands washing him. Then the rest of your body, your curves that fit so well in his hands, your breasts that heaved along with your heavier breathing, nipples hard and aching to be touched.

Dean took the soap from your hands and put it back on the dish, shortly before he pinned you against the cold bathroom tile. He ravaged you with lips, teeth, and tongue along your neck, down your chest, and over your breasts. You moaned and held him to you.

You didn't care that your hair was getting soaked all over again. Your fingers ran through his now wet hair as he touched you and drew pleasure from your body.

Your lower belly was beginning to cramp in earnest now, and resonating deep inside you with heat. You felt a flood of slick forming between your legs as your core pulsed with need.

Your scent hit him in a powerful wave, nearly making Dean falter as his eyes rolled shut.

“Fuck. You’re in heat, Omega,” he choked out.

You nodded, though you had to fist a hand in his hair when you felt his fingers between your legs. They swiped between your drenched folds, gathering some slick and circling around your clit. You moaned loudly and arched against his hand. The back of your head pressed into the wall.

“Alpha,” you said. A whine sounded in your throat as Dean’s touch firmed in response. His thumb pressed and massaged your clit while two fingers slipped deep inside your tight channel.

A shiver ran down Dean’s spine, along with your nails grazing down his back. Already he was painfully hard for you. He had a suspicious feeling that your heat was triggering his rut, because he was becoming desperate to be inside you. His whole body felt tingling and alive, and charged with need.

His lips sucked hard on those sensitive nerves between your neck and shoulder, making you gasp. Your inner walls fluttered around his fingers.

“That’s it, Omega. Want you to come just like this before I fill you up,” he muttered. He earned your vocal agreement in response.

But then it hit him.

Flashes of memory. Darkness and blood. Agony tearing at his skin and insides.

And then, inflicting it himself, on other souls just as damned as him.

Your moan of release just barely managed to pull him out of his own mind. He felt your wetness coat his hand. Goddamn.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised. And yet, while his body caged yours against the wall, he couldn’t force himself to continue. He couldn’t back off either. He was fighting every instinct in his body that demanded he take you, right here and now.

“Dean?” you asked, sensing his hesitation. You cupped his cheek, but he didn’t want to look at you.

“I can’t,” he ground out.

Your eyes widened as shock and dismay threatened to overtake you. “What?”

Dean’s eyes closed. He was trembling with the force of both his need, and his restraint.

With a frown of concern, you wrapped a thigh around his hip, but he wouldn’t heed your attempt to bring him closer.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. No, you demanded to know. Because your body was quaking with desire as well. You needed his knot, and you wanted nothing more than for him to make this right—to claim you as his.

But Dean looked like he was in pain. He winced and pressed a fist against the wall by your head. He pressed his forehead against it.

You tried to comfort him with your hands soothing over his shoulders. There you finally caught sight of a mark on his right shoulder. It looked like a burn…a handprint. Your eyes widened with a small gasp.

He followed your gaze, but he eventually looked away with a frown. It was like he didn’t even want to acknowledge it, even if he didn’t know what it was. Whatever had hauled him out of Hell, he doubted it was anything good.

“I’m, uh…” He breathed raggedly through his nose. “I’m not…the same.”

You had a feeling it was very difficult for him to admit that.

Four months.

That was how long he’d been lost to you. That was how long he’d been in Hell. You couldn’t even imagine…

You swallowed past a lump of sorrow, but you weren’t deterred. You grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“You were my Alpha long before you claimed me,” you told him.

That affected Dean, probably more than you knew. He still shook his head though.

“It’s not right, Omega,” he said, even as his voice trembled. You don’t have a fuckin’ clue… You don’t know what I’ve turned into.

The water from the shower head was growing cold, but you’d never been hotter. The cramps were starting up again in earnest, making your teeth clench at the combination of pain and incredible arousal.

“I need you,” you said, through frustration, heat, and emotion all at once. “I would never leave you like this. I would never leave you.”

His eyes closed again, briefly. His breath came out harshly through his nose when you touched his cheek. Your touch was gentle, but it still ignited his skin and made every muscle in his body coil tight with strain.

It was hard to sort through the base instincts that were on the verge of taking over his mind, and then his body. Deep down though, Dean knew you were right. He knew you would never leave him. And that was kind of the problem.

“Alpha, please,” you said, through your own strain. Again, you took his face in your hands and shook him. It drew his gaze to your face. Your beautiful face that he’d seen over and over in the Pit, used as his own personal form of torture.

His whole body trembled.

You saw his distress, and it pierced your heart. You leaned up and brushed your wet cheek against his, while your fingers slipped into his hair in comfort.

“You’re here. You’re alive,” you said. “And you’re here with me.”

You nuzzled your way down his neck and pressed your lips to his mating gland, making him shiver for a whole different reason. You pressed your body against his and kissed, licked, and sucked at his skin.

“Omega,” he warned, but the growl in his throat was more pleased than warning. He felt your nails graze down his chest and sternum, and soon enough your hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.

He sucked in a breath and pressed his face into your neck. His lips ventured tantalizingly close to the place you wanted him the most, and all the while you stroked him along sensitive flesh. Your thumb circled around his knot, and the dripping head.

“I know you need me too,” you said. You could smell his rut. Your lips edged at a smirk, and you decided to bluff. “But if you won’t make me yours, maybe I’ll find another Alpha who will.”

It didn’t take long before a vice grip closed around your wrist. Dean’s irises were rimmed with black when he met your gaze, half consumed by the Alpha as he pinned you harder against the wall. He grabbed your thigh and hooked it around his hip. And with the other hand he guided his cock to push into you and stretch your inner walls, inch by inch.

You both moaned in relief when he was firmly seated inside you. Your core throbbed around him in a spasm of pleasure. You cried out and rolled your head back against the wall, your nails sinking into his shoulders.

“Alpha,” you shuddered.

“I got you, Omega,” he ground out, just barely holding onto the tethers of himself. His fingers coiled tight into your wet hair and began to pound into you, a rough clip that had you gasping, toes curling as you arched against him.

His lips found your throat and laid a nipping kiss there. All you could do was hold on desperately. You knew he was close when his thrusts grew ragged, when it became harder for him to push into you with the swell of his knot forming. But it wasn’t until his fingers slipped between your joined bodies and circled more insistently over your clit that you came along with him, hard on his throbbing cock.

His teeth sunk into your neck, creating a newly forged bond through a haze of pain and pleasure. You cried out again at the force of it all—the sensations were nearly overwhelming, even more so than it had been the first time he claimed you.

And Dean nearly slipped in the tub.

“Fuck!” He managed to catch himself on the soap dish and the adjoining wall while you grabbed his arms steady. Shit, that really could’ve been disastrous, considering you two were now locked in place.

He glanced down at you. Through wide eyes and panting breaths, you broke first with a giggle. Dean’s lips curved with a smile. Soon enough, he was chuckling too.

The black around his irises receded, and he held you more gently and secure against the wall. After licking the line of blood clean from your neck with a slow, sensuous tongue, he brushed your wet hair back from your face. Then he turned off the frigid shower.

“We really shouldn’t have done this in here. Shit,” he said with a laugh. How were you two supposed to get to your bed? Or at least get dry.

You giggled harder and dropped your forehead against his chest.

“It’s okay,” you said teasingly. “I think this is worth catching pneumonia over.”

Dean shook his head at your antics, but he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. Smiling bright, you leaned up just enough to reach his lips. Your kiss was slow and tender; a release of your grief, a grateful thank you, and a reminder all at once.

“I love you,” you whispered. “That’s all that matters. We’ll deal with the rest afterwards.”

Dean expelled a long breath. He nodded after a moment, conceding defeat.

“I love you too,” he admitted. And he meant it, down to his bones.

He knew that afterwards wouldn’t be as easy as you seemed to think, but there was no turning back now.

You were his.

AN: And there we have it! lol This was definitely a fun challenge. I might like to try my hand at A/B/O dynamics again in the future, but let me know what you think of this one. 😘💜

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#Make It Right #alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #alpha!dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #alpha dean x omega reader #sam winchester #supernatural #spn #abo dynamics #reader request #omegaverse #abo au #spn season 3 #spn season 4 #zepskies writes

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airborneice · 3 months

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VERY late to the party but here’s my piece for @hilda-appreciation-week Day 2 - Favourite Episode - STONE FOREST BABEYY

hmm I was gonna talk a little about why I love this episode so much but it got kind of long so that’s going under a cut lol

ok so this would’ve been a really tough one for me to choose, if it weren’t for the fact that Stone Forest has had a very special place in my heart right from the moment I picked up the comic in 2018 and spent the next 2 yrs hoping I’d see it in the show. since that was pretty much my introduction to the comics and it was a hilda story that was yet to feature in the show it was just. so much fun. the art style of the comic is wonderful and a joy to look at and I would argue that pre-Mountain King it was the first comic to show a bit more dimension to Johanna and really have her along for the adventure, and I love it for that so much

I was so hyped to see this episode when season 2 dropped, and imo they adapted the story perfectly. I admire how the writers adjusted the story of the comic to fit into the show with all the changes they’d made, making the same conflict work with a slightly different Hilda-Johanna dynamic in the show, and how they made room in the story for the supporting characters who aren’t in the comic so much (even if that meant they got rid of my boy the stray sod to have hilda’s friends there instead 🥲 it's fine I snuck him into the bg of this drawing bc he’s still there. in my heart). Anyway I love this ep, I loved seeing how my fave comic moments made it onto the screen while also getting the completely new B plot with Frida, David, Gerda etc. I also really really love that the story being animated meant they had room to expand on some smaller moments in the comic and make them more emotional and nuanced (the part where they try to sleep behind a rock and Johanna thinks about reaching out to Hilda before giving up comes to mind…love little additions like that which take advantage of the medium!!!) also they had Johanna do cool stuff like tell a troll to get lost to its face so in conclusion this episode was made for me specifically and I just think it’s such a treat :D

#hildaappreciationweek2024 #hilda the series #hilda netflix #hilda stone forest #art tag #hilda johanna #hilda fan art

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shallowrambles · 3 months

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I love the view that Dean figured out his deeper feelings for Cas in 6 & 7, and the majority of 8 was Dean arcing out of his hero-worship and people-should-never-let-me-down neuroses.

And then.

Post-perceived rejection… (Remember: Cas threw OFF Dean’s hand in Purgatory, and cut OFF cupid’s hand when it was aimed at him.)

So. Late Seasons 8 to mid-12 are Dean actively trying to get over Cas. In s9, he’s off-key paralleled with Josie Sands and Abaddon. (When it’s actually Hannah who’s “the Josie.”) Then he transitions into a reversal-power arc, towards being force-fit into the cartoonish, dare I say ham-fisted Cain role and its parallels. (They spell out the parallel in a distinctly odd way, esp for SPN. Too on the nose. Prescriptive. That’s because it’s actually mirroring Dean’s power fantasy according to Dean’s deepest, least charitable, nihilistic wishes.)

In s10, Dean still appears hung up on Cas, trusting him with the blade and begging him to help kill him if he becomes disinhibited/loses his free will again. Also, “I’m glad you’re here, man,” and Cas’s awkward reply, “Another time. There’s a female waiting in the car.” In a way, Dean’s feelings and fantasies serve to taunt him. The Cain parallel itself feels like a taunt.

Dean may realize Cas “admires” him but it’s definitely not the way Dean wants, that is: not like a secret admirer. Dean is mad for the unbalanced power dynamics re:Cas in the past. Now in Dean’s power reversal: Cas gets the wife treatment and Dean gets paralleled with the powerful Cain figure. He gets to beat Cas just as Cas beat him.

And it’s no accident the Dean’s power reversal arc culminates in a reverse-crypt. Because that’s what Dean’s bitter about. (“That’s not gonna be a problem = You can’t hurt me anymore, not like you did.”) It’s rooted in the bitterness of perceived rejection. That’s why Cas bears the brunt of Dean’s anger here.

Afterwards, Dean feels soooo guilty for being angry.

Later…

At various points, he tries to reassure Cas he’s okay with and appreciates how things are: a best friend, a comrade, a brother. Acceptance!

Dean spent season 10 dealing with his baggage and hoping hopelessly, then in season 11, I think he resolved to accept things. He may have toed the water with sexual tension and short shorts at times, but overall he was trying to live with Cas and let Cas off the hook.

He also encouraged Amara to deal with her own baggage the way he’d worked through his. Season 10 was his reversal arc: him in power for once, with Cas getting the wife treatment and Sam’s corruption being highlighted for once. And in season 11 he was spirited away, dealing with being powerless once more.

After that was done, he tried to swallow his feelings and let go of Cas, the way he encouraged Amara to let go of him.

He may perceive season 11 as his letting go of irrationally wanting Cas. The car scene may represent him giving Cas an out. Even releasing him from any perceived obligations.

So when Cas shows interest in season 12, I do think that threw him! Made him so nervous that he started hoping again, getting all tentative with his little mixtape.

Then Cas returns the damn mixtape. (Burned again!) But instead of getting bitter, Dean says to keep it, it’s a gift. Then he mumbles another “we’re all stronger together,” lil spill to cover his embarrassment.

Because now, he’s fully accepted that he loves Cas. Dean’s feelings haven’t faded so he has resolved to live with them as they are. No matter how many times he gets his hopes up and disappointed.

But now, Dean’s more scared. In season 8 he was ready to tell Cas “I love you.” He spent four years trying to navigate those unrequited feelings and convert them into familial camaraderie.

It’s much scarier in s12 with cosmic consequences on their heads, and Dean with everything he’s ever wanted just at his fingertips.

My fave thing about it all is that Dean and Cas are ready for each other at wildly different points and hardly ever sync up in between all the disasters.

#josie abaddon dean amara and the false parallels by the #abaddon demon dean amara #false parallels #josie sands hannah #josie sands #amara #i am def dehydrated delirious plz ignore meee #josie sands dean parallels #dean and the reversal power arc

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zzoguri · 8 months

Text

first to know you, first to love you ➵ eric sohn

all you should care about is graduating with flying colors, so why are you starting to care about your seatmate?

requested by @mosviqu @sohnric for the song "valentine" by laufey

general genre/warnings ➵ strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life, afab reader (they/them pronouns), reader is a psychology student who has so much aspirations (and also believes love and studies cannot be balanced), eric is your seatmate-turned-friend-turned-lover, library dates reading dates study dates you name it!, eric is the most supportive guy out here, he annotates a book for you..., references to books and poetry, he buys you stuff, and he reads a book for you!!, slight hurt/comfort, kissing, also unedited IM SORRY!!!

word count ➵ 10k words

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel

a/n ➵ okay i am WITHIN the word limit!! but i know i went over the limit of scenarios (this may be the last time this happens... i don't know yet... help?) but i hope you enjoy this bar!! i am not too happy about my writing style for this one :') and i know reader may not be very "black cat" as i know you but i hope you'll still enjoy it to the fullest </3 also i made sure to not mention anything related to height LMFAO for the other readers: if you enjoyed this, always make sure to reblog (even if it’s on your tbr)!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! want to request? check out my guidelines! masterlist

The years spent in university may be defined differently by everyone. Some may live out these years to enjoy the supposed independence they craved in high school. Others may spend those years exploring their interests and hobbies as they figure out what their future may have in store for them.

You, however, were a different case—head in scientific journals and coursework with a plan to graduate summa cum laude. As you study in a quota course, you’re determined to come out of university with flying colors. In a sea of students who are of similar (or even better) skill sets as you, the desire to be recognized as one of the top students is what you long for.

And for you, that means you were set on not entertaining ideas that may divide your attention from your studies—you were not going to allow yourself to fall in love in your years of university.

That is until a certain boy who goes by Eric Sohn came into your life.

CHAPTER ONE: LOVE LABORS LOST

The season of summer still lingers in the air; birds chipper as they sit on the tree branches; the sun glows yellow in the sea of blue; people point their fans at themselves as they are forced to bask in the heat.

But the new academic year has commenced, and you are determined to ace your classes once more. You’ve read the syllabi of all the classes you were going to take, even ones for your general subjects. Many people believe that general subjects are a waste of their time. You, however, thought differently, especially since one of the subjects you’re taking this semester is English Literature.

Coming from a STEM-oriented course, you may not seem like the type to enjoy literature. But the reality is that you love to learn about poets and writers—ones who seemed to craft worlds and dynamics that you could never translate into words. This misconception of those who enjoy science being unable to appreciate written bodies of art is one you face. But at least this course is a general subject, leaving you on equal footing with individuals from different courses.

You sit by the window as you wait for your professor to finish setting up his laptop. It’s syllabus week, so there wasn’t much to be worried about. Once he clears his throat, he shows the class a smile.

“Good morning, class. I’m Mr. Hwang Taejoon, and I am your professor for Introduction to English Literature.” He takes a moment to look down at his clipboard which you can only assume holds a list of his students’ names. “If this isn’t your class, you may take this opportunity to leave.” Some students get off their seats and make their way outside the classroom.

As soon as they left, your professor smiled before clapping his hands. “I’m excited to go through this semester with you. I know this is only an introductory course for you, so I will make sure to guide you all throughout. Now, will–”

The door of the classroom slams open. Your eyes snap to where the sound comes from, showing a boy whose black hair is all tousled up as he pants. He’s all dressed up in a varsity jacket over his hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. You notice how his hand quickly reaches out to his head, fixing his hair.

The boy then immediately bows down to the class (mostly to your professor) as he says, “Sorry about being late!” Your eyes drift back to Mr. Hwang whose face now holds a frown in contrast to the smile he once showed to you. “I promise, I won’t be late for any other session!”

Mr. Hwang grumbles before he takes another look back down to his clipboard. “Go take a seat.”

The boy stands up straight before flashing your professor an apologetic smile. He quickly makes his way to find a seat. Despite the vacant seats that are located throughout the class, his eyes quickly skimmed through them. That is until his eyes land on you. You notice how his eyes flicker to the empty seat beside you. And the next thing you know, you find him situated to your right.

You try to keep your eyes on your laptop, looking at the text on the syllabus. You didn’t want to stare at him—the boy who took the vacant seat beside you out of all the ones situated around the classroom.

The noise he creates as he brings out his laptop is not loud enough to interrupt the discussion but can drown out your professor’s words. But as soon as he settles down, you notice that he sets his hand down on the space between the two laptops. You cannot help but let your eyes flicker to it, and you notice his wrist is littered with beaded bracelets.

“Now, I’ll be discussing the outputs you are expected to deliver within the semester.” Your eyes snap up to where your professor is, standing right behind the table as he looks through his laptop.

You were ready to focus for today’s session until you felt someone tap your shoulder. As you look to your side, you are met with a boy who shows you a smile—one that is enough to almost have you smiling back, just almost.

“Hi, can I ask if there was anything I missed?” It’s a simple question, but you find yourself unable to formulate an answer. His voice is enough to send you into a lullaby; he could have his own podcast and you’d listen only to hear him speak nonstop, whether it would be of logical discussions or nonsensical chatter.

Without any idea of how to voice your thoughts, you only shake your head. He nods and shoots you a wink before looking back to the professor.

You should’ve been thrown off by his sudden action. If anything, you have every right to roll your eyes at him. But you do nothing of the sort, only looking back at your professor who demands your attention while your mind remains preoccupied with the boy beside you.

This could be due to all the years focused on your studies. You could care less about all the people who tried to earn your affection, from your classmates in your majors to even those part of the same club as you. But the boy emits an aura that has you only thinking of him. How can you ace this class if you’re turning putty at the first meeting? You need to get a better grip on yourself.

“Now, I want you to answer these,” Mr. Hwang says as he flashes a question on the screen: What role does literature play in your life? “And talk about it with your seatmates. Now would be a good time to get to know your classmates with the upcoming paired assessment around the corner.”

As you read out the words on the screen, you are not given enough time to think as the boy beside you clears his throat. You look back at him, met with the same smile he flashed at you then. Does he do this with every person he first meets?

“I think I should introduce myself. I’m Eric Sohn, majoring in Hotel Culinary Arts,” he says with his hand out toward you. You take a glance at his hand before letting yourself hold it, shaking it firmly.

“I’m Y/N, majoring in Psychology.”

You notice the way his eyes widen as you mention your course. “Do you perhaps know someone named Kevin Moon?”

The mention of your friend’s name has you smiling. “Yeah, I do. We’ve worked together since we’re part of our home org. How do you know him?” Your hand drifts away from his, crossing your arms as you listen intently to what he has to say.

“Mutual friends,” he reveals as he lets one of his arms rest on the back of your chair. With one hand tucked under his chin, he rests his arm on the table. He takes a glance at the screen shown in the front to refresh his memory on the question. “Would you like to go first? Or do you want me to start?”

You nod your head, signaling for him to start. He takes a deep breath as he looks up to the ceiling, gathering his thoughts. “Well, I’ve read a few books then and there, but I think it was only when I entered uni that I started really reading more books if that makes sense.”

As his eyes meet yours, you nod as a way to show you understand him. “Yeah, I hate to admit this at first meeting but I’m a very romantic person.” You cannot help but raise your eyebrows at his words, earning a chuckle from him.

“I swear, I am! That’s why I started reading because my sister got me hooked on some romance books, so I’d like to think that literature helps me imagine scenarios I would love to see play out.” You notice the way he starts to scratch the back of his neck. “It doesn’t have to be me as the protagonist, but I’d like it,” he shyly admits, making you smile unconsciously.

God, you were not the type to just smile at some random boy. So why did Eric seem to have this effect on you?

Your thoughts snap you back into reality; the smile is now replaced by your calm demeanor. “I guess I can start.” As you see him signal for you to continue, you bite the inside of your cheek as you let your eyes drift to the screen.

“Well, I’ve been reading my whole life, actually,” you look back at Eric who seems to show genuine interest in what you have to say. Oddly enough, you feel as if you can tell him more than just the typical story you tell people.

“I know people don’t expect me to be this type because I major in Psychology, and I have this tendency to read a lot of scientific journals and textbooks for my classes but that’s because I enjoy learning about the human condition.” You let your eyes drift off to nowhere as you reveal a part of you to a stranger. Maybe it’s because he’s a stranger that makes it easier for you to admit details you wouldn’t normally admit to someone whom you’ve met under a different circumstance.

“But I’ve always had an affinity for reading. Books can be a form of escapism through fictional stories, but they can also be a way to encapsulate memories of someone,” you continue with a small sigh. “I have been quite behind with my reading schedule though, so I’m hoping this class may propel me back to getting back to reading.”

He hums as he nods before saying, “No, I get it. I like that answer.” You look back at the boy who only smiles at you. “It’s nice to know that you still want to go back to reading despite how much your other classes demand it. I know many people who’ve lost that love and don’t see themselves going back to it, you know?” You nod at his words.

You were no stranger to the love-hate relationship when it comes to reading. If anything, that is how you’d describe your relationship when it comes to the hobby. But you were hoping that the upcoming years would treat you right and that your love for said hobby may not dissipate.

“Yeah, I would hate to lose that form of escapism from my studies.”

He nods with a small chuckle following. “I get it, I would hate to lose it, too.”

With no idea how to respond, you expect silence to follow. But Eric quickly fills it as he asks you a question. “Do you know anyone in this class?” As you shake your head, he lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay, same.”

You cannot help but giggle. “I mean, if I knew someone, then I would be sitting with them,” you point out.

You want to ask him why he chose to take a seat beside you, but he beats you to it by asking you another question. “Do you have a class before this?”

“Uh, no,” you say as you quickly take a glance at your laptop, moving the windows away to show your schedule. Since the semester just started, you didn’t memorize your schedule. “It’s my first class of the day, but my next class is around 3.” You look back at the boy who cannot hide the way he reels at your schedule.

“You have such a long break. But me too,” he says as he pulls out his phone. As he shows you his schedule, you notice how big of a gap he has for today, where his next class is happening around 6 p.m. “But at least the other days are back-to-back. I just didn’t get lucky with my Mondays and Thursdays. I tried to change it but all the professors denied my request.”

You cannot help but sigh at the sight of his schedule as you remember yours. “Same. Well, I guess we’re stuck with our shitty schedules.”

Then, he asks, “Do you want to exchange schedules and numbers, perhaps?” Your eyebrows shoot up at his question. “I mean, I just don’t know anyone here, so I’d love to at least have a familiar face I can go to, especially for this class.”

You know you’re about to enter dangerous territories. With the numerous books you’ve read, you were sure this is what books typically started their stories with—a meeting between the two protagonists whose relationship will only have room to blossom.

And you should have kept him at arm's length. You didn’t want to risk getting friendly with someone like Eric because even at the first meeting, you couldn’t help but feel yourself drawn to him. But he’s nothing but kind and there should be no problem with allotting him space to take up in your life. All you need to do is stick to your plan—no idea of pursuing romance shall be entertained until you graduate. You can only hope that your interest in him is just a happy crush, one that will never flourish further.

So you find yourself nodding to his request to which he grins. But before he can say anything, the light comes through the window. He squints as it hits his face, raising his hand to shield his eyes.

“Here, you can put your number and social media then I’ll send you my schedule.” The boyish grin on his face alongside the sunlight that makes him glow is a sight the universe has gifted to you.

You’ve read all about protagonists being bewitched by the presence of another, but works of literature have not prepared you to experience the same. For once, you wish you could find the right words to describe the sight but all you can think of is what a pleasure it is to be seeing this at the start of your day—you can only hope that your happy crush remains that way.

CHAPTER TWO: LITTLE WOMEN

The later hours of the day dawned upon you. The fluorescent overhead lights are dim as only the lamps situated at every table shine bright; you enjoy them for they never make the library bleak. The wooden interior found in every corner of this library reminds you of your own back in your childhood home. But the main act of the show is the books; the wide selection they offer has you always here at every possible hour, whether it may be to study or to possibly read for leisure.

You usually find yourself alone on most occasions spent here. If you found yourself working on a group project, you would usually opt to have such meetings at the study hall situated a few buildings away. It made sense to have those in a place where you could freely talk versus a library where it would be limited to occasional chatter or whispers. Today, however, is an exception, for you now sit across from your partner for your first paired work for Mr. Hwang’s class.

“I don’t usually spend my time here, but it’s nice,” Eric voices out as he looks around, taking in the sight of his surroundings. There were barely any students in the library around these hours. Usually, it would be you and some familiar faces you recognized because of the numerous instances you stayed here.

You’re not sure why you didn’t push for the study hall, but Eric’s explanation for choosing this place made sense. If you were going to study literature, why not do it in a place that is filled to the brim with it? It’s convenient if you need to quickly pull out a book because you’re already there. But the reality is that you liked this space as your own—somewhat like a part of the university that you believe to reflect the intimate parts of you.

You hum while you look down at your iPad where your notes are all scribbled down. “I’m always here. I spend most of my time studying or reading here.” You look up to Eric whose gaze is trained on you. Oddly enough, it feels like his eyes sparkle despite how dim the environment may be.

With that, you break eye contact with him as you look over a few tables away where you notice students who you knew only by their faces. “Yeah, like I know some of the people there just because we always seem to stay in the library until the closing hours.”

He hums before asking, “Do you know their names?” You shake your head before looking back at him.

“I only know the names of the librarians and staff. I’ve never been bothered to know the names of the other students, but we still say hi whenever we pass by each other.”

He can only nod at your words. “Sorry about interrupting the discussion, we can go back to it.”

“It’s fine.” You cannot help but smile as you shake your head. “It was a break we needed to take.”

He shoots you that boyish grin—one you’ve grown fond of after seeing him every week for class—before he continues, “So, we were talking about the confession scene of Laurie.”

“Ah, that one,” you cut him off as you lean back in your chair.

He chuckles for a moment. “So, what are your thoughts on the scene?”

You let out a sigh before saying, “Well, I am 100% on Jo’s side. I mean, she has every right to decline a man’s confession, especially if she has all these aspirations she wants to achieve.” You bite on the inside of your cheek as you recall the passages in your head. “And the audacity for Laurie to be, I guess, “jealous” of Professor Bhaer is unreasonable. I mean, it’s clear she doesn’t have room for anything romantic in her life, and I think that should be respected.”

“But,” Eric quickly scrolls through his notes found on his laptop. “Don’t we learn later on that Jo ends up longing for love in the end? Doesn’t she end up wanting both—a chance to pursue her dreams while also longing to be in love?”

You cannot help but chuckle at his counterargument. “Yes, but I think that this book was written poorly. I mean, we learned in the earlier chapters that Jo did not want to marry, and didn’t we also learn that Alcott only wrote Jo and Bhaer marrying each other because her publishers forced her?”

Eric hums for a moment. “I mean, we do learn that. But I think another way to look at it is that Jo was not ready to let someone take up such an important space at that period of her life. And I think it’s perfectly fine for her to realize later on that what she thought then is not what she wants after all.” With pursed lips, he lets his gaze flicker away from the laptop and back to you. “I know we put relevance to the context of the author, but I think it’s fine to derive our own interpretations of the text despite what the author intended, you know? That’s at least what I learned in my Art Appreciation class.”

Your partner for this assignment brought up valid points. It’s not like he was telling you to agree entirely with his interpretation of the later sequence of Little Women. Instead, he was engaging in discourse with you, sharing what he thought of the scene to provide a different perspective.

“I just,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “I just think Jo’s character was so revolutionary in the field of classics. I’ve read so much about women being viewed as individuals who are only meant to marry, but authors never put importance into their aspirations. I think that’s why I loved Jo’s character.” When you notice that Eric keeps his gaze on you without any sign that he’ll interrupt, you decide to continue. “She clearly had her priorities and wasn’t willing to let the idea of romance get in the way.”

Eric’s expression slowly starts to shift into confusion. Despite your words speaking on Jo’s character, it was starting to make sense to both of you that these sentiments came from a personal standpoint.

“Is this you speaking from experience?”

For a moment, you think of lying to the boy who sits across from you. You didn’t want to hear whatever comments he would make of your own choice to keep your love life as lackluster as possible. Yet, his eyes speak thousands of words—all revolving around curiosity. And you realize that maybe Eric won’t judge you. After all, when has he ever shown you that he would criticize you?

You sigh as you let your eyes look down at your notes. “I’m not looking for a relationship, or love, in general. I don’t think I have the time to even sustain one, and I care too much about my studies to even consider it.” You look back at Eric whose doe eyes still seem to shine.

He nods, letting silence take over. Your answer hangs in the air, almost as if you two needed it to marinate further. That is until Eric decides to break the silence.

“Do you ever get jealous of what you read?” You cannot help but tilt your head at his question. He shakes his head, trying to gather the right words to say. “I mean, you’ve read so many books, and I’m sure many of them have revolved around the theme of love and romance, especially the classics. Do you not want to experience that for yourself?”

Eric’s question seemed to be rooted in genuine curiosity. And you cannot help but ponder over his words.

It’s true that you would find yourself longing to experience the wonders of love that writers seem to talk about. It would be untrue if you said you didn’t give the idea a second thought—what would it be like to allow yourself to enjoy romance all while you study for your degree? But then you remember that there wasn’t anyone, really, to have you consider such. It was only an idea you would think about but never proceed with—there was no one to take up that space in your life to begin with.

So you sigh, shaking your head as you look back down at your notes, and say, “It’s not like anyone has given me a reason to reconsider.” You leave it at that, deciding not to indulge in the topic any further. And Eric only hums, looking back at his notes.

You take this opportunity to review your notes, recollecting every detail that is worth discussing with Eric for the upcoming presentation. Unbeknownst to you, however, your partner has his mind preoccupied with another matter—what can he do to become the reason you consider?

CHAPTER THREE: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

The moon may be shining brightly tonight, but you’ll never know. All huddled up in the library, the lamp on your table shines over your laptop and sprawled-out notes. You weren’t sure how long you’d been in this library. All you know is that you still have papers to accomplish and exams to study for.

But at least you were going through this in the comfort of your favorite spot in the university for they seemed to keep the library open all day during midterm season. And at least you had someone there to keep you company during this mess.

“This paper is impossible,” Eric complains as he rubs his eyes from exhaustion. You’re sure it’s past midnight. “What did you write your paper on?”

You cannot help but yawn. “Uh, I wrote it on Still I Rise just because it answers the prompt pretty well.” With droopy eyes, you look at your friend who now leans his head on his arm that is propped up on the table.

“Man, that’s good.” You cannot help but chuckle at his reaction. “I’m hesitant about using a poem just because I’m scared I won’t be able to share my thoughts well. Like, I know I talked about how we interpret the text as something that matters, but sometimes I cannot make sense of what these poets are saying.” His tired expression shows how long he’s been pondering on what to write.

With the paper due a few days from now, you were sure Eric was pressured to think of anything to write about. So you decide to lean back in your chair, brainstorming for anything to help him. Yet, you only draw a blank, clearly exhausted from all the studying and writing you’ve been doing.

His cackle comes out of the blue. Your eyes snap to his face, seeing that his crinkled eyes are set on you. You don’t miss how the students around your area shush him. Eric is suddenly aware of how loud he is as he cannot help but sink into his chair out of embarrassment.

“Sorry, the expression you had on your face made me laugh,” he shyly admits.

You frown at him before saying, “Fine, you’re on your own now.” Your eyes dart back to your laptop.

“Okay, wait!” He quietly exclaims as he grabs onto your forearm. Your eyes drift to his hand that rests on your arm, slowly drifting away from exhaustion. Before you can comment, he retracts his hand. “I would love your help.”

As your eyes settle on him, you notice the pout that rests on his lips. His doe eyes still manage to sparkle in the dimly lit room. The sight warms your heart—you almost let your calm demeanor falter.

“I wish I could help but for once, I can’t think of anything.” As you say those words, the cold air hits your skin. You cross your arms as a shiver runs down your spine.

Somehow, Eric is quick to catch on to your behavior. You watch how he pulls off his hoodie, hair ruffled from the action. And before you know it, he hands it to you.

“Here,” he says as he drops it right beside your laptop, covering your notes. Although you shake your head, he can only roll his eyes. “You clearly need it more than I do.”

With no sign that he’ll back down, you cannot help but sigh. You grab onto the piece of clothing and slip it on you, getting a whiff of a fruity and spicy scent that clings onto it. With how big the hoodie is, it almost acts like a blanket. And when you look back at Eric, you notice the soft expression that takes over his face—a smile that is enough to warm your heart.

“I think you should take a nap.” His suggestion has you shaking your head. “You’re clearly tired.”

You roll your eyes before going back to your laptop. “I can’t or else I’ll be behind on my tasks.”

“Okay, but if you only take an hour to nap, I’m sure you’ll feel well-rested enough to work better.”

Your friend made a valid point. At the rate you were going, you were barely absorbing anything. But you didn’t want to slack off nor did you want to fall behind on your studies.

And as if he notices your worries, he says, “I’ll make sure to wake you up an hour from now.”

You cannot hold back the smile that appears on your face. Somehow, Eric knew all the right words to say in the short span of time he has gotten to know you. And before you know it, your arms settle on the table as you find your chin settling on them. Whether it would be from pure exhaustion or Eric’s persuasion, you found yourself settling in a position good enough to allow yourself to nap.

The victory smile that takes over Eric’s features is one you wish you could smack off his face for you know it’s because you ended up listening to him, but it’s also one you want to store in your memories. His grin is enough to have you smiling back, though you bury the bottom half of your face into the sleeves of his hoodie, getting another whiff of his perfume.

He then goes back to his laptop, scrolling away at what you can assume to be the instructions for the essay required by Mr. Hwang. As you watch him ponder, you cannot help but take in his features; from his strong jaw all the way to his eyes that manage to easily shift between a strong glare to a soft gaze. He is someone sculpted by the deities—you weren’t sure why the universe chose you to be graced by his presence.

In your time knowing him, you knew that he presented himself as a goofball to many. He became the life of the party, per se, for he managed to create a comfortable atmosphere for everyone.

And yet, you knew that it’s only a mask he chooses to wear for the sake of others. In these moments, you learn that he is more than just a childish guy. Past all the layers, he is profound—you first learned that when he shared his interpretation of Jo’s character. You hope that he can find more moments where he’ll expose that side to you.

You move your chin to rest on your arms. “Can I ask what’s your favorite book?” Your sudden question has his eyes snapping at you. “I just realized that we’ve known each other for half a semester because of an English Literature class, but I never bothered to ask about your favorite book.”

He cannot help but chuckle before saying, “It’s The Notebook.” His answer has your face contorting into disappointment. “Hey, what’s wrong with that?” The way he gets defensive has you erupting into a giggle.

“It’s just okay for me. I didn’t enjoy it that much when I read it.”

He furrows his eyebrows not due to disapproval but genuine curiosity. “Okay, so what’s your favorite book then?”

“Pride and Prejudice.” The answer leaves your mouth quickly, almost like it’s second nature to answer the question with that title.

He hums before admitting, “I’ve never read it.”

“Yeah, it shows.” The remark leaves your mouth without letting a second thought come. You notice the way Eric’s expression shifts into a scornful one, and you cannot help but giggle. “I just think that you might reconsider what your favorite book is after reading Pride and Prejudice, you know?” He only nods at your words.

You let out a sigh. “I actually want to reread that book after midterms are done.” Your blinks are slow, exhaustion taking over your body.

Eric is quick to notice how sleepy you’re getting. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you up an hour from now.” All you do is hum before snuggling the lower half of your face into the sleeves of his hoodie, eyes now closed.

A few minutes pass, and you hear a chair screech softly. You can only assume that Eric had to use the washroom. But when you heard the chair move once more only a few minutes later, you were sure that he only had to get something.

As you hear him clear his throat for a moment, you keep your eyes closed. You try your best to not show you’re awake. And once more minutes have passed, you decide that the coast is clear.

Once you open one eye, you notice that Eric is leaning back in his chair with a book in his hand. He reads it intently, unaware of your gaze on him. You let your gaze drift to the cover of the book, and it takes everything in you to hold back a gasp. In his hands is a copy of Pride and Prejudice, the same one you found yourself revisiting just to read your favorite passages.

As you let your eyes close, a smile shows on your lips. Thankfully, it is hidden by the sleeves your face is snuggled into. With the sight replaying in your head accompanied by his perfume, your heart warms at the thought of him. You can only hope that he’ll love that book as much as you do—you can only hope that this infatuation will pass.

CHAPTER FOUR: EMMA

The season of fall has come; the sky is a patchwork of hues of orange; the leaves have turned to shades of brown; the wind has gotten cooler. Long gone was the heat that summer brought—you were dying to experience the joys of autumn.

Thankfully, you finished your last class for the day. As students piled out of the classroom, you were taking your time tidying your things. For once, you didn’t have any tasks to accomplish within the day which meant tonight would be time for you to enjoy, all snuggled up in bed as you finally reread Pride and Prejudice.

You were satisfied with the grades you received from your midterm assessments. Somehow, your efforts spent studying reflected well in the feedback your professors provided. Now, you can reward yourself with reading your favorite book.

When you exit the classroom, you expect yourself to go straight back to your dorm. However, the sight of Eric Sohn standing outside with his back leaning on the wall is what disrupts your plans.

“Eric? How did you know I was here?” Your shocked expression has him chuckling.

“We exchanged schedules, remember?” He says as he stands up straight, walking closer to you. You two stood in the middle of the hallway with little to no students in sight. “I kind of got lost, if I’m going to be honest.”

As he admits that information, you cannot help but giggle. “I mean, this is where most of my major classes are. That’s why I’m surprised to see a Hotel Culinary Arts student like you here.” He shoots you that boyish grin which has you smiling back. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure? Do you perhaps need help with the upcoming assessment for Mr. Hwang’s class?” You attempt to joke as you remain unaware of the reason behind Eric’s visit.

But when he pulls out a book from behind his back, your smile shifts into a shocked expression. In his hands is a new copy of Pride and Prejudice, one different from the one that he was reading in the library that one night. As your eyes zero on the book he holds, you do not pay attention to whatever expression Eric may have.

“I finally got around to reading your favorite book, and I have to admit that you’re right. I think this might be my new favorite book,” he hands the book to you. Your hands trail over the cover, still shocked that he ended up finishing it. “And I wanted to finish it before you reread it.”

You were expecting him to only read a few chapters, but for him to find enough time to finish it before you could pick it up? You realized you were screwed.

Your hands find themselves flipping through the pages—and holy shit, there are notes and scribbles all over the pages. “I wanted to annotate it just so you can also read my reactions and interpretations as you reread it.” Your mouth parts open at his words, clearly in awe of the action.

The pages are littered with underlines and circles, highlighting passages and quotes that seem to resonate with Eric. On the margins, you notice notes that are simple one-liners and others that are long enough to fill up the pages’ spaces.

“I–I don’t,” you look up to the boy in front of you. With his smile still plastered on his face, you do everything in you to find the right words to say. Yet, it’s impossible—this is the first time someone has done this for you.

He chuckles at your lack of words and says, “I would love to stay and hear how much you enjoy this, but I unfortunately have a class to get to all the way in the Culinary Arts building.” He lets his hand rest on your shoulder, squeezing it as if it’s his way to snap you out of your trance.

But the thing is you are not in any way out of touch with reality. Not only did he give you an annotated copy of your favorite book but he waited until your last class in a building that is all the way on the opposite side of where he needs to be. And at this moment you knew you were doomed—that this budding infatuation is turning into something more.

“I’ll see you next week in class, okay?” He says with a smile. You can only nod, still unable to speak. “Or tomorrow, if you’d like.” And before you can question him, he quickly makes his way out of the building. You let your eyes watch his figure that continues to sprint away.

As soon as he’s gone, you look back down at the book in your hands. You flip through the pages as you still remain in shock at what he gifted you. That is until you notice a post-it note stuck on the last page. When you open it to the page, you expect it to be an index of what his annotations mean. Instead, it is a message directed towards you, and you cannot help but feel your heartstrings tug at his words.

would you be interested in going on a reading date with me?

❑ yes ❑ no </3

p.s. you can just text me your answer :) maybe we can plan something tomorrow (that is if you see it by the time i give this to you)

And you tell yourself that this is wrong—that you should not be considering his offer no matter how friendly it may be. But with how he’s been treating you, you almost hope that this isn’t just him being friendly. You want to be on the receiving end of his affection—of his love.

It seems stupid to go back on your word of refusing to entertain love. Your plans are focused on graduating summa cum laude without ever allocating space for someone to take up your time. But is it wrong that someone has you reconsidering what you originally thought? Is it a sin for you to want to experience the joys of love despite your past reluctance?

So for once, you fully understand Jo’s character—you want to achieve in your endeavors all while experiencing the joys of love. And there’s nothing wrong with having that mindset after all.

The season of autumn is your favorite; the sight of leaves falling is a sight you cannot help but enjoy watching. In the same way leaves fall from the tree to the ground, you have fallen for Eric Sohn.

CHAPTER FIVE: SONNET 18

“So, what’s your favorite scene from Pride and Prejudice?” You decide to ask Eric as you two pass through shelves filled to the brim with antique books.

He hums as he follows closely behind you. “I think it was the first time Lizzie and Mr. Darcy danced together.”

You glance at the boy behind you, humming along with his answer. “Yeah, I really like Austen’s use of the motif of dance.” You come to a halt as you stand in front of a shelf full of classics. “I mean, she uses dance to show attraction between Mr. Darcy and Lizzie without them even realizing it.” Once you turn your head to face Eric, you notice a smile on his lips.

“Yeah, they’re remarkable,” he mutters as his eyes remain on you.

Under his gaze, your knees start to get weak. You cannot help but gulp as you look back to the shelves with cheeks dusted red.

Today, you and Eric were in the middle of a date—not a reading one, but an actual date. At first, you were nervous about having lunch with him mainly because you weren’t sure what to talk about. But he found a way to lead the conversation, making sure to build an environment where you two could talk about anything and everything.

Eric decided to bring you to an antique bookstore near campus considering that you two share an affinity for reading—though you were more interested compared to him. The selection they have covers fictional classics all the way to nonfiction recipe books. It’s definitely smaller than what the library offers but bigger than another bookstore you tend to frequent.

As your eyes scan through the collection, your eyes catch onto a copy of Sense and Sensibility, another book by Jane Austen that you’ve been meaning to pick up. “Ah! I’ve been meaning to read this,” you exclaim as you pull it out. With your eyes still looking through the selection, you spot another book you’ve wanted to read for a while. “Oh, they also have Wuthering Heights!” As you grab onto the other book, you look down to admire the covers.

While you’re entranced by all the antique books standing in front of you, Eric cannot help but chuckle at your reaction. You whip your head only to see that god-forbidden boyish grin on his face—the same one that got you hooked onto him at the first meeting. He leans his side on the bookshelf all while he stares at you.

With that, you frown as you tilt your head. “Why are you laughing?” The question that leaves your mouth is out of genuine curiosity.

“No reason,” he starts off. “You’re pretty, especially when you talk about books.”

Your eyebrows raise in shock, thrown off by the sudden compliment. Eric has never been the type to tell you such during your time knowing him but hearing him say it now has your knees weak. Suddenly, all resolve was gone and you had no idea how to respond.

And before you know it, you say, “You’re pretty, too.”

The words come out quickly without a second thought, and only when they leave your mouth do you realize how weird you are for saying such. But you notice the way his smile gets bigger, and you cannot help but feel your cheeks warm up once more out of flusters and embarrassment.

“Are you done picking out the books you want?”

“Uh, yeah,” you start off as you glance at your books. “What are you going to get?”

He hums as he stands up straight, looking at the shelf in front of you two. “Do you have another book recommendation for me?” He looks back at you.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you hum, thinking of a book. “Maybe Jane Eyre? By Charlotte Brontë?” You’re ready to tell him the synopsis of the book, but he doesn’t spare you another second for he grabs the book.

“Okay,” he smiles as he raises the book up. “I’ll pay for your books while I’m at it.”

You immediately shake your head at his words. “Huh? No, you don’t need to.” You hold the books close to your chest. “You paid for lunch already.”

He rolls his eyes before extending his free hand out to you. “It’s fine. I want to buy these books for you.” Your eyes are wide as you slowly feel yourself moving the stack of books away from your chest. “So long as we get to have that reading date, I’m happy to buy them for you.”

You would deny his offer, but you hate to admit that the idea of having someone you like buy the books you’ve been wanting to read has your heart warming. Buying you books, reading your recommendations, and annotating a book just for you—they’re the easiest ways to your heart, and he figured them out.

With that, you find yourself handing the two books to him. He smiles as he glances at the three books in his hands. And before you know it, he quickly links his arm with you as he drags you to the cashier. You don’t know how you got lucky to know a guy like him.

CHAPTER SIX: SO TIRED BLUES

Usually, the hours of the night are the ones you find most comfort in. It’s the illusion of being away from the hours that demanded you to interact with others. You love spending your time alone doing whatever, whether it may be your own hobbies or the coursework you need to accomplish. This time of day had you in a state of tranquility, at most, for you were comforted with the idea that nothing can disturb you.

But for once, you weren’t calm during these hours. As you stare at your shared document that barely had any input from your groupmates, you feel your sanity slipping away. This assessment is due two days from now—what can your groupmates offer during this time crunch?

You lean your head in your hands as your eyes rest on your keyboard. As you let out a groan, you cannot help but grip your hair out of frustration.

“What’s wrong?”

As you look at your friend who sits beside you, you cannot help but pout. “Eric, I can’t do this.”

Despite these hours being reserved for your alone time, you chose to spend these with him. The date was a success—you two were practically inseparable at this point. But you two were still going on dates without any expectation, still exploring whatever you two truly felt towards each other.

To be fair, you were still hesitant about jumping into a relationship with him. You still weren’t sure how possible it was for you to handle your studies along with being in a relationship. And you hate to admit it but you’re terrified—what if the love you read about is nothing like what you’ll experience with Eric?

So for now, you’ll only allow yourself to enjoy what you have now. It is only when the universe forces you to confront these sentiments that you’ll figure out the answer.

He crosses his arm as he leans back in the booth you two sat on. “You want to tell me about it?” And for a moment, you consider not doing such. You didn’t want to waste both yours and Eric’s time complaining about shitty and unresponsive groupmates.

But he doesn’t give you a moment to indulge any further in those worries, for he says, “We have enough time for you to talk about it.” He shows you a smile, one that is enough to bring you comfort. “Let me become someone you can lean on.”

And with that, you find yourself spilling out your frustrations. “I’ve just been so stressed, you know? My group mates are so shit, I’m not sure how good of an output we’ll be able to submit on time,” you start off. “I’ve been reminding them nonstop to do their work, and they just keep ignoring me. And it doesn’t help that my professor doesn’t give a fuck.”

Eric cannot help but let out a hiss of annoyance at your situation. “That’s terrible.”

“I know, right? And this assessment is at least 30% of my grade. How am I going to get an A in this class if my groupmates refuse to help?” You cannot help but groan as you lean back.

As you stare up at the ceiling, you tongue the inside of your cheek as you ponder over the situation you’re in. And you’re not sure what takes over you when you share your next set of thoughts. “I just–I want to achieve so many things, but it’s so hard when you’re not supported.”

Despite your eyes staring up at the ceiling, you can feel Eric’s gaze on you as you reveal a part you’ve never shared with him. So you let out a sigh before saying, “I know I talk so much about wanting to ace all my subjects and graduate with flying colors, but some days it’s hard to keep up with that type of mentality.” You let your eyes close for a moment. “It’s hard to aspire for so many things when you don’t have someone to fall back on.”

Although you have the passion to achieve the different goals you set for yourself, it becomes impossible to keep that fire going on most days. Sure, you had friends from your course and extracurriculars, but they were never ones you could find yourself going to easily. In most instances, you would be by yourself as you were scared to insert yourself into people’s circles.

With that lack of a support system, it became difficult to attain your goal. Although you try your hardest to keep your mind set on the prize, you cannot deny that you find yourself slipping into burnout in most instances.

“I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of burnout, you know? And I know most people would say to take a break or to indulge in a hobby, but,” you look at the boy beside you whose face is full of concern. “I’m exhausted from reading.”

It’s something you didn’t like to admit out loud. Eric knew you as the person who would read at any hour if they could—the one who wishes they could consume books even while asleep. So it hurts to say that you were growing tired of the hobby—the one thing that provided you escapism.

You let out a bitter chuckle as your tired eyes drifted away from him, staring off into the distance. “It gets hard to read when all you do in a course is read. It requires so much energy, and most days I just don’t have that.” As you say those words, you let out a sigh. “And even when I forced myself to read, whether it would be for my own pleasure or a requirement for school, I could never digest the passages.”

Eric hums at your reveal. And when he reaches out for your hand, it feels as if all your worries are lifted off your shoulders. “Is there any way that I can help?”

You cannot help but chuckle as your eyes rest back on him. With his worried expression, you only show him a small smile. “No,” you shake your head. “But it’s fine. I’m glad that someone listened to me.”

It’s not like you were aiming to have your problems solved by him. If anything, you realize how much weight was lifted off of you after admitting these to a friend.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m sorry I can’t do much to help you, especially with your group work.”

You can only hum as you take a deep breath. “Yeah. I just need to take over their parts and remove their names, I guess.” As you say that, Eric cannot help but nod along with a chuckle leaving his mouth.

You’re about to get back to the work you were dreading until he asks you something. “Hey, I don’t know how much this would help, but maybe I can read you some passages of where I am in The Awakening if you’d like.” Your eyes widen at his suggestion. “I’m sure you’re way ahead of me but this could be a refresher, you know? While you take a break, I can be your audiobook.”

And you cannot hold back the smile that shows on your lips. Somehow, Eric is always looking out for you, whether it be through keeping your love for literature going or making sure you are well-rested on most occasions.

With that, you find yourself leaning your head on his shoulder. As you let your eyes close, you mutter, “Yes, please.”

He chuckles at the way you seem to melt on his shoulder. And just like that, he starts to recite the words of Chopin.

As his voice fills your ears, you’re reminded of the first time you first met Eric. Something about his voice is enough to ease your worries—to bring you into a state of tranquility. And somehow, he became the late hours of the day for you—you’ve managed to find peace through his presence for all he did is support you.

CHAPTER SEVEN: HOW DO I LOVE THEE? LET ME COUNT THE WAYS

It seems like the season of fall is about to end. It’s getting colder than usual and you cannot help but wear more layers than you typically would during autumn. Although winter is about to come, however, you were seated on a picnic blanket with your back leaning against a tree trunk. And on your lap is where Eric’s head lays as he continues to read Jane Eyre.

While you were trying to read your copy of Wuthering Heights, you couldn’t help but glance at Eric every once in a while. After going on multiple dates with him throughout the semester, you weren’t sure exactly where you two were in your relationship. And you know you should take the initiative to ask, but you didn’t want to say the wrong words.

“Eric,” you call out his name as your voice quivers. He looks away from his book to stare right back at you. As he hums in curiosity, you cannot help but bite the inside of your cheek. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you sit beside me?” You notice his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “During the first meeting, I mean. Why did you choose to sit beside me when there were other vacant spots?” As you say those words, you spot how his mouth parts open in realization. However, it shifts into a smug grin.

“Cause I thought you were cute.” His reply has your eyes widening in shock. You knew Eric tends to be straightforward, but you weren’t expecting that to be his answer. You were sure that your cheeks were warm at his reasoning.

He then sits up, now face-to-face with you. “Well, that’s what I thought at first. But I got to know you more through the times we studied together, you know?” With his eyes staring intently back at yours, you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“I mean, the first time I got to know you, you were talking about how you wouldn’t entertain the idea of romance, so I couldn’t help but become interested in you.” His hand reaches out for yours that rests on your lap. “And throughout our time together, I learned about all your hopes and dreams and your love for literature.”

You notice the way he takes a deep breath in as his eyes close momentarily. “I couldn’t help but like you,” he admits. As soon as he opens his eyes, he is met by yours that are wide as they stare back at him.

“I’m sure it wasn’t a secret with how we were going on dates, but I thought I should vocalize it now,” he starts off as he looks down at your interlocked hands. “I was starting to wish that these dates would give you enough of a reason to reconsider what you first thought—that maybe I could become a reason for you to reconsider after all.”

But as soon as he looks back at you, you feel your heartstrings tug as he draws circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. And the next thing he says is enough to warm your heart. “But I would never push you into a relationship with me. I know you care about your studies, and you worry too much about your grades. Sometimes, I wish I could tell you to take it easy.” He cannot help but giggle as he says those words, causing you to laugh along with him.

“But I hope you know that I’ll be here to support you, whether as a friend or as your boyfriend if you’ll have me.”

And you realize that you’ve been wrong all this time. You’ve fallen under this idea that the road to success means to get rid of all distractions—that love is nothing but a hindrance to the path you want to take. But it’s not that you can only have one or the other—you could choose to have both if you made the effort to do so.

In your time knowing Eric Sohn, you learned the joys of love even if you weren’t signing up for such joys came in the form of him. To you, he is what the poets describe as love embodied. From the first time you two worked together all the way to midterm season until your breakdown, you realize that he is the support you were seeking out all this time. And so you wonder to yourself how lucky you can be to receive something you weren’t seeking but still desperately craved.

So you let yourself lean forward, your face inching closer to his. His breath hitches at your action. As your eyes flicker down to his lips for a second, you cannot help but hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your eyes meet his, and you notice the way he holds his breath. So you cannot help but let yourself smile for a moment.

And before he knows it, your lips crash into his. Your hand reaches out to the side of his face while your arm wraps around the back of his neck, holding him close. His hand holds onto your waist, drawing shapes on it with his thumb.

As your noses bump against each other, Eric cannot help but giggle in the middle of the kiss. You two part away as you continue to look at each other. “So, will you let me be yours?” And his question is enough to pull on your heartstrings.

It’s the phrasing that gets to you—his choice of words to let him be yours versus you being his is what has you realizing just how much he likes you. It’s this whole idea that you didn’t have to surrender anything to him for he is willing to build around you.

But the reality is you would do the same for him—you’re willing to make space for him to take up in your life the same way he already has done for you.

And so you say, “You can be mine if you let me be yours.”

The boyish grin you first found yourself falling in love with appears on his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You wish you could tell your past self that nothing goes according to plan. What you may have first thought is not what may push through in the end. While you were never signing up to find love in your years in university, the universe decided to give you a reason to reconsider. And now you know that you can have both—that you can achieve your aspirations while still being in love. All it took was time, effort, support, and a boy named Eric Sohn to have you believe that.

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mandyarin · 3 months

Text

Spring has come to me

Shohei Ohtani x Reader (female pronouns)

Synopsis: A story of love between the team physician and the superstar of the team.

Author's note: Hey y'all this is my first ever fic! I have been reading fics since forever and have been contemplating on making my own for the longest time and well my first piece is dedicated to Shohei Ohtani, since not much people write for this talented gorgeous man, I figured why not. Feedbacks are highly appreciated, altho pls don't be mean :< i didn't check for grammar or punctuation mistakes so I'm sorry for dat :>> there might also be some mistakes abt team technicalities and dynamics sooo :3

Working as part of the Dodgers' medical team was not really the dream but the opportunity was dropped into your lap and you'd be a fool not to take it. Spring training has started but not everyone on the team has been on the field as consistently as the star player of the team, Shohei Ohtani. Without fail he has been on the stadium even before beginning spring training. As part of the medical team you have been corresponding closely with the rehabilitation personnel that works closely with the players, most notably Shohei. It was slightly different from working in a hospital but certainly a lot less work and stress. Although the higher ups breathing down your neck making sure the star was going to be alright might be causing you a headache. You weren't much for baseball or sports in general, what with being an over achiever who seeks validation through academics, never having much extra curricular unless it involves the academe, despite that though, you have certainly heard of the name Shohei Ohtani and the ripples of his achievements.

You were at your office, contemplating the best course of care to be administered to common baseball injuries and rehabilitation, personalized treatment, the best apparatus to use. Your mind running through every possible scenario and making contingency plan for each. Not only is your skill and credibility as a professional on the line but also a player's professional career. Everything has to be perfect. Nothing more, nothing less.

A knock came through the door, "Come in" you called.

"Hey would you like to meet the players? They're out on the field right now, I figured we introduce you", Called out a staff member as he entered through the door.

"Yeah, sure. Let me just save this and I'll be right out."

There wasn't much distance to walk out on the field, you see the long stretch of players talking amongst themselves, stretching, checking out their equipments.

"Alright, everyone listen up. This is the new team physician joining us this season. She will be corresponding with the medical staff and personnel in ensuring the best care and treatment for every single one of you. She is one of the best in orthopedics. I expect that you guys will heed her advices regarding to your health." The team manager gathered everyone near him and had me introduce myself to everyone present.

Everyone had the opportunity to introduce themselves, accompanied by a handshake. Soon it was the superstar's turn. A hand that shook yours in greeting, dwarfing it in his roughed up hand. He gave you a smile that reached his eyes, you like his eyes, you decide. Like crescent moons as he gives a slight chuckle.

It wasn't all that hard to get occupied with Shohei's matters, you had to correspond with his surgeon about his recent surgery, you had to be in constant communication with the physical therapist in charge of him and you had to plan and administer the best care for his current state. One might say that you are too focused on him despite being the team physician but that is just the effect of having a $700 million player in your care. Not a thing spared if it's for his well-being. Besides he's the only player in the current roster with the most recent surgery done and you'll be damned if he's not good to go when the season starts.

Being in close proximity with him made you realize things about him. The talent he has and the grit he puts in everything he does on the field makes him the amazing player that he is, you have not seen someone as dedicated as he was in their craft. He's meticulous in his actions, moves with intention. Careful and purposeful. When he is off the zone, his laughter rings, albeit like a hyena. Wide smiles and the carefree way he carries himself. So carefree but so sure. You have never seen him look like he was out of place in his new team. He always looked like he belonged where he is, wherever might that be. An energy so magnetic but the type of magnetism that pulls you in slowly, carefully, like a smooth caress and then when you least expect it you were pulled into his orbit and you were none the wiser.

It started when he would be in your space. Rushing towards you as he finishes his set, like he has a special radar that is exclusively for you. Whether you're observing him or the other players or talking to other staff members. Nothing will stop him from going to you. Smiling down at you with a boyish smile, engaging you in conversations like "What have you been up to?", "Are you here to supervise?", "Are you here to see me?", "I'm gonna practice my batting today, can you check my form?". It flustered you at first but it has been such a common occurence that it has failed to phase you anymore.

Then, he would message you outside working hours. Sending pictures and videos of his adventures with Dekopin, fully taking advantage at the fact that you are weak for cute animals. You guys would talk about the everyday mundane things like the weather, food, hobbies and many other things. Then came more personal questions that dug deeper to reveal more of each other. A peek inside this amazing athlete, the person inside. Grasping the melancholy he feels, the little joys in his days, the trepidation that tomorrow brings, the pressure of the pedestal that he was put on. He seemed a little more human, a little more relatable. A little more like a boy who dreamed big and is now living it but still grasping at what was lost.

Then came the invites. Inviting you outside working hours for food, hanging out at his home, tagging along at Dekopin's vet appointments and anywhere else you could think of. Of course, there is definetely skepticisms and wariness with all these invites. He was a man who has his whole country watching him through the media's lenses, whether it be from reputable sources or the tabloids. For him to be seen with a woman was a sentence. Sentenced to be lump into rumors and gossips. The man of the hour and his partner. It was a headline just waiting to happen. But you reasoned with yourself. Surely they are aware that you are one of the team physicians, right? Surely they'll think it's just an appointment outside working hours, a bit unconventional but people wouldn't think you guys are together, right? Right. No one will think so. You were just a team doctor hanging out with one of your team's player, nothing more. You said in your head like a mantra, as you accept his offers to go out. Truly hoping for it to be the case.

The realization came to you on a quiet night. You didn't mind the closeness of Shohei, you didn't mind that he would come running to you whenever he sees you, in fact you enjoyed seeing him jog to you and grace you with that ever so handsome smile of his. He fills your head with mindless ramblings and chats, you think you would hate it since you have learned to value silence as your companion but you found out you didn't. His voice and presence now accompanies you too. You found that you didn't mind being linked to him. You didn't mind if your face or name will be plastered on a headline on Japanese newspapers or tabloids by tomorrow. You didn't mind people writing about you and your relationship. It really doesn't matter. What matters is if he is happy, it matters if he is comfortable with you accompanying him to whatever and wherever and well, he is happy, he is comfortable. What matters is that you love him. You have learned that Shohei has wormed his way to your heart slowly but surely and he is there to stay, taking hold of a chunk of your heart. Ready to hold his hand tightly and face the world. Courageously love and be loved.

Shohei was intrigued by you, you were young, the youngest physician he has seen on the team and yet you managed to be one of the best orthopedic in the country and landing a job at Dodgers, well he might have also been struck by your outwardly appearance and honestly he isn't shy to admit that. You are beautiful.

You are a constant presence in his training, checking up on him and the others, taking special care of him and his recent surgery. He noticed how you're a little stoic, maintaining that air of professionalism like an armor, your brilliance showing through the improved physical care of the players and everyone surely took notice of it. But you were also coy, giving him small smiles or chuckles when he finds courage to talk to you or when you're assisting him on his rehab exercises, putting slight pressure on his forearms and chest, eyes shyly meeting his. It never fails to makes his heart flutter like a teenager.

You had a strong wall built around you, from past hurt, perhaps? He doesn't know but he vowed to himself that he will do anything to break it down or climb his way up over to you. Meticulously planning everything to give his heart and to have yours.

Shohei figures that you love cute and loveable things and he thinks Dekopin could be the best wingman for the job. He was cute and loveable, the perfect tool, the perfect excuse to message you. He knows you couldn't resist and from then on he would talk and talk until you'd answer, he didn't mind waiting he knows you're busy and he knows you might not be used to it. It's okay he'll glady start the conversation if it means getting to talk to you. He's patient and he will wait until you come around. The conversations turn personal at one point and he saw a little more of you. The anxious, perfectionist that is a tad bit hard on herself. A tortured genius, if you will. He can sympathize with you in that regard, with both being young people on such peaks of successes, people from your respective fields waiting on your next moves, ready to pounce when the chance arises. It's exhausting but he figured he wouldn't mind being exhausted together.

Shohei knows he's always being watched, he knows paparazzi are lurking at corners near the stadium, near his home, and wherever places he frequents to. He admits it is a little selfish of him to invite you to his home, or wherever outside work. He knows there is a big possibility of getting caught and photographed but he couldn't give a damn. He doesn't care if people speculates about his romantic life if it is with you. He doesn't mind giving out a statement that you and him are at a stage of getting to know each other. He doesn't mind declaring to the world that he only has eyes for you. He knows he's selfish, the press might hound you and pick you apart so he's careful when inviting you out. Always at odd hours, using an unusual and discreet car, making sure to cover your face when arriving and leaving his home. Yes, he is selfish but he is not to put you in any kind of pressure and danger. He cares about you too much to be too selfish.

On a perfect breezy midnight of spring he received a call from you, asking him if he was awake. His heart quickens, mouth dries a little, he answered you "Yes", with a light waver in his voice.

"Alright, wait for me, I'm coming over."

"Okay, I'll be waiting for you. Be safe."

His heart stutters in his chest, you have never called him first, never initiated on coming to his house, he was a little scared but your voice seems resolute like there is something that has to be done and he hopes deep deep in his heart that it is what he think it is.

You came knocking on his door after a few minutes and Shohei almost falls over trying to get to the door to get you. And there you were in your full glory, a little disheveled in your most comfortable sweater and sweats. The breeze caressing your hair, your skin. Shohei can't believe that he starts to get a little jealous of the way the breeze kisses you and be so upclose to you. You also take him in, in his loungewear shorts and thin sweatshirt, tousled hair and a slight pink tint to his full cheeks.

"May I come in?"

He's stunned for a little bit then clears his throat and replies, "Of course, come on in. Don't mind the mess Dekopin just destroyed another one of his toys".

As you guys shuffled inside his home, the air stills and there's an undeniable tension between the two of you. Shyly meeting each other's gaze for a minute and like magnets you draw towards each other. Timidly, you put your hands against Shohei's chest, both your hearts jumping out of your ribcages at the action.

"Is this okay?", you asked looking up at him through your eyelashes. Eyes flitting between his eyes and his lips. Shohei noticed the action and wrapped his arms around your torso, bringing you impossibly closer to him, he needs to feel you, he needs to feel your skin on his, your breath on his skin, your lips on his.

"Yes", he replied as he carefully places one of his hand on the back of your head. Slowly inching towards your lips.

"Is this also okay?", he asked lips almost touching yours as he spoke. You didn't waste your time and finally have your lips meet in a sweet embrace that slowly deepened into a dance of lips flitting at each other. The kiss was sweet and sensual, just like him, you think. The kiss was everything the both of you have hoped for. A kiss that says everything and a kiss that seals everything. You finally break away from each other to catch your breath, but lips still touching each other, exhanging breathes, panting on each other's lips.

"Thank you for being patient with me. I love you." You said to him, lips touching his as you speak. He gives you a long peck.

"I'll be here always waiting for you, I love you too. I love you." He utters to you sweetly, saying the last part in his native tongue. Conveying all the love he has in those words. He hopes that you can feel his sincerity, if not then he'll just have to show it to you every time until you can feel it.

Truly, spring has come and bloomed love both to you and Shohei.

A/N: I've been inspired by what the phrase "Spring has come" mean to both Korean and Japanese language ik its not yet spring but yeah I just rlly wanted to write about this. Hope you guys enjoyed it <3

#shohei ohtani #shohei ohtani x reader #ohtani shohei #shohei ohtani imagines #mlb imagines

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cobrakaisb · 1 year

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life in a glass house

summary: you and mark are getting closer, but are you really? based on one tree hill season one episode seven

word count: 1.6k

“i think that’s it for today,” you said, closing your laptop with a small smile on your face. mark nods, also smiling at you. the two of you begin to pack up your things, when mark checks his phone. he throws his head back, a loud groan escaping from his lips.

“you okay?” you asked softly. “yeah just, an unexpected practice was called tomorrow, do you think we could meet at my house instead?” he replied. you froze at his words; you and mark never went to each other’s houses. meeting in the library, student union, or anywhere else on campus was fine, platonic even, but going to his house made this seem more real. it made it seem like you were friends, and you knew that was far from reality.

“i don’t know,” you trailed off, biting your lip. “please y/n. i really need your help studying for this next test,” he begged. “i-” you started, but he interrupted you with another please. “fine! but you’re not going to be distracted. right?” you answered, raising an eyebrow as you crossed your arms over your chest. “no, of course not!” he replied. “thank you so much! i really appreciate this!” he continued. you nodded, smiling, and mark took that as his signal to leave.

as you watched his retreating figure, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to how much the dynamic between the two of you had changed. it was obvious, at least on your end, that you were starting to view mark as a friend, possibly even more. although you refused to let yourself go any further than friendship. and yet, mark’s views on you remained unclear.

deep down there was a part of you that wanted more with mark, a deeper friendship, maybe even a relationship, but you felt as if it was one sided. during your tutoring sessions, which were becoming more and more frequent, mark was constantly talking about other girls. ones that were just the complete opposite of you. they liked hockey, understood it, were willing to put themselves out there, and enjoyed spending a night out. all the stuff that mark loved, and you hated. the two of you — you and mark — were just too different.

a fact that was reminded to you when you showed up at his house the following afternoon.

“hi! i’m here to see mark,” you said, when a boy, shorter than mark but still taller than you, opened the door. he looked you up and down, several times, before smiling. “i don’t think you’re his type sweetheart,” he replied, moving to close the door. your mouth fell open in shock, and before you could answer, the door was slammed in your face.

you stood there for a moment, trying to regroup, before pulling out your phone. you dialed mark’s number, foot tapping rapidly on the porch. “yeah?” he answered. “your roommate just slammed the door on me,” you replied, short and snippy. “fuck. i’ll be right there,” he mumbled before hanging up.

he was in deep shit, mark just knew it. finally, after making some sort of progress with you, one of his idiot friends had to ruin it for him. he made it down the stairs and to the front door in record time, holding it open for you as you walked through the threshold.

“i’m so sorry! let’s just go up to my room yeah?” he apologized, grabbing your wrist as he led you up the stairs. you couldn’t help but feel icky, like he was hiding you from his friends. further proving your point that he didn’t return your feelings.

inside his bedroom, mark took the seat at his desk, spinning in the chair to face you. “you can sit wherever. make yourself comfortable,” he explained, gesturing around his room. you nodded, plopping your bag down on the floor as you sat on the edge of his bed. “okay so we have the test tomorrow, on the two books we covered,” you said, getting right to business.

“right. i have my notes and the outline from my last essay, which i was planning to review, but i feel like it’s not enough,” he answered, showing you the documents on his laptop. “mhm. but those are a great start. i would try to think of some questions she might ask,” you replied, leaning over his shoulder as you stood behind his desk chair.

“idk dude, like a symbolism one,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “did you just call me dude?” you asked, scrunching up your nose. mark laughed, “yeah why?” “because! that’s so weird,” you answered. he continued to laugh at you, and you shoved his shoulder, just as someone knocked on his door.

“come in,” he called, turning the chair towards the door. the two of you were really close together, closer than you expected, and somehow, mark’s arm made its way around your waist. “hey dinner’s here. y’know before the party,” the boy, a blonde with a backwards cap on, said.

mark nodded, swallowing thickly. he didn’t invite you to the party, and he wasn't planning too, but he felt super guilty about it now. “right. thanks eddy,” he answered.

mark looked at you, feeling sad and a teeny bit guilty. “party? i thought you needed my help to study?” you mumbled. “i do…but the hockey guys they just…they don’t get it,” he tried to explain and you hummed in agreement, stepping away from him. mark’s arm fell to the side.

“right,” you said, picking up your bag from the floor. “please don’t be mad. i couldn’t invite you. it’s hockey guys only,” he said, standing from his chair to take the empty space next to you. you nodded, taking a deep breath. “of course. i get it. anyways here’s a copy of my notes, and study guide. i would try to review them, if you have time. have fun at your party,” you said, plastering a fake smile on your face as you left his room, and the house.

hours later, the party was in full swing. the house was packed with people, and music was blaring from the speaker downstairs. mark kept trying to get into it. he played beer pong with eddy, but his heart wasn’t really in it. all he could see was your disheartened face every time he blinked or looked into the crowd. he was angry at himself for not inviting you, for not accepting his feelings towards you. he tried to harbor them, shoving them under the rug for as long as possible. something that finally caught up with him.

“mark, you good man?” someone asked, shaking his shoulder. mark blinked, meeting the eyes of rutger mcgroarty, a freshman on the hockey team. he nodded, “all good.” rutger didn’t look convinced, but he was smart enough not to push it. he needed to call you, mark decided, excusing himself from the downstairs area and heading up to his bedroom. imagine his surprise when he found some girl digging through his stuff.

“what the hell are you doing?” he asks, grabbing the girl by her elbow. she’s wasted, mark can tell that much, and before she can even get out an explanation, he’s showing her the way out. thankfully she finds her friends at the bottom of the stairs, who seem more than ready to take care of her. “one problem solved,” mark mumbled to himself, bounding back up the stairs to his room.

yet somehow, a whole new problem arose. he thought he was making progress with y/n but now he’s right back to square one: being ignored. he kept trying to talk to her, but she never gave him the time of day, instead opting for an eye roll and dramatic exit.

“i don’t know what happened. things were going great between us,” mark explained to ethan and mackie as he stared at y/n from across the dining hall. “really? i think it’s pretty obvious, she’s embarrassed,” mackie replied.

“embarrassed? about what?” mark asked, looking at the connecticut native. “because of the letter,” he said matter-of-factly. mark raised his eyebrows, confusion written all over his face. “don’t tell me you don’t know! it was in your room!” ethan exclaimed, but there was no sign of recognition on mark’s face.

“she wrote you a little note, very simple, but not something you’d want to go around campus. some girl was showing it to everyone,” mackie explained, and suddenly mark was getting flashbacks to the girl on his room from the party. he was livid, filled with rage towards this girl for screwing everything up.

he stood up from the table, walking confidently over towards y/n. she was eating her dinner, sitting with a couple of friends. “y/n, can i talk to you?” he asked, standing by her chair. she froze, body going rigid. “i really don’t want to talk with you mark,” she replied, refusing to make eye contact with him.

“i know you’re mad at me about the note, but i didn’t even know it existed! i swear! and i would never spread that around,” he explained, rushing over his words as she began to pick up her trash and gather her belongings. as she moved to step away, still refusing to acknowledge him, mark wrapped his hand around her bicep. “please y/n, please,” he begged softly, so quietly that only she could hear.

“i asked you not to waste my time mark,” she answered softly, escaping from his grip. mark watched as she exited the dining hall. he was fucked.

#oth au #oth au with mark #mark estapa #mark estapa x reader #mark estapa imagine #mark estapa blurb #mark estapa blurbs #umich hockey #cobrakaisb writing

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crow-hoards-things · 7 days

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The Bad Batch Series Finale

FULL DISCLOSURE: This is a vent post. I’m angry and hurt. After I get this out of my system I’ll be more open to discussing the positives of the episode.

Warnings: Ranting, Spoilers

Hooo boy. Okay. I am… less than satisfied?

Quick rundown since I haven’t posted much of anything Bad Batch related: Tech is my favorite Batch member, immediately followed by Crosshair. I’m also a HUGE Republic Commando Nerd (read all the books, played the game, despised Bad Batch as a whole initially because I felt the commandos were being unfairly ignored, can sing + translate Vode An, etc.) and Scorch was my favorite Delta. The Bad Batch grew on me shortly after Season 1 finished up, and I immediately latched onto Tech when I began watching. He’s the reason I watched the first two seasons. (Crosshair + delusions about Tech were the combined force behind watching the final season)

NOW, onto my actual thoughts on the episode, in no semblance of order because my brain is still trying to process, Ft. Cry count:

• Wish Tech was here. He would’ve loved the Zillo being freed.

• “‘Cause I’d do the same thing” no you wouldn’t. Fives would’ve. The you I fell in love with would’ve yelled at Fives about it being a terrible idea and then promptly gone along with it anyway. That said it was a really cute moment and I loved his nonchalant little “come on” afterwards.

• C: “Echo or Omega?” W&H: “Omega” THEY KNOW THEIR GIRL SO WELL

• When Hemlock went to get the operatives I got excited thinking maybe, just maybe we’d get Tech back.

• CROSSHAIR LOST HIS FREAKING HAND!?!? WHAT THE HECK!?! I will never stop being salty about this. He’s been through enough. [Near Tears]

• Rampart sucks

• Nala Se got to blow stuff up and I appreciate that even if I don’t really like her

• I’m glad Wrecker’s okay. He had me scared for a bit. Hunter, conversely, never really did? He’s Omega’s Dad, he had to survive.

• Did anybody else see that one operative whose helmet seemingly had goggles built into it? We had a lingering shot on his helmet for a few seconds and they looked like a red version of Tech’s goggles.

• SCORCH IS DEAD AND YOU’D BETTER BELIEVE I’M MAD ABOUT IT! [First shedding of tears]

• HECK YEAH, HEMLOCK IS DEAD!!! [Tears of relief combined with grief over Scorch]

• I’m so glad Omega hugged Crosshair first. I fully expected her to just run to Hunter, and Crosshair needed that hug.

• Echo’s goodbye was disrespectful. 0/10. He’s family and they don’t even care that he’s leaving???

• SOMEONE IS MISSING FROM OUR NICE LITTLE GROUP SHOT!

• I never really got super invested in the dynamic between Omega and Hunter, but the ending between them was cute I guess.

• We were robbed. We could’ve gotten Crosshair and Wrecker as old men and we were robbed.

• Tech is dead. Like, seriously, really and truly, dead. As a delusional “Tech’s alive guys, trust me” fan, it feels like he just died all over again. I’ll talk more about this later because I’m not over it. [Que sob-fest]

alright, circling back around to my main gripes, in order of appearance:

#1. Scorch.

I hate how they handled him. At first when he showed up I got super excited. That was my boy! In the Bad Batch show!! He’s making an appearance!!! Maybe they’ll do something with the Delta boys!!

Even as the episodes went on and I started to suspect where his path was leading, I consistently would go “Scorch!!! <3” every episode, because that is my boy and I love him dearly.

The levels of offended I am on Scorch’s behalf are not within my ability to express with words. The complete and utter disrespect he was shown over his time on the show is appalling. Why bring him in if you’re going to drain him of all his personality, make him have zero plot relevance, and then murder him?! They could easily have made a new clone for that, as seen by the number of operatives who exist and got 0.5 minutes of screen time.

But no. They brought in a beloved character with 10 seconds of canonical screen time prior, stripped him of everything that made him lovable, didn’t even have him DO ANYTHING, and then murdered him. It feels like a spit in the face and a kick to the gut all at once.

I will mourn. I’ve already cried and I’ll probably cry again. But right now I’m angry and I think Scorch deserves to have people be angry about how he was treated.

#2. Tech

Yes. I admit to having been a “trust me guys, Tech’s alive” person. I will also admit that at the end of episode 13 I wanted him to stay dead because I had zero faith they could satisfactorily bring him back.

My gripe is not with him staying dead. Yes, it feels like losing him all over again. Yes, I will mourn him again. Yes. That sucks. It’s not what’s making me mad.

What makes me mad is how his death was handled.

• It served ZERO purpose narratively other than to up the stakes and make us worry about whether anyone else would die (Spoiler alert: They didn’t. Tech was the only one who died) • Nobody mourned him. No one seemed affected by his death at all. No one cared. I don’t care what anyone says, that will NEVER be okay. • The first actual mention of Tech *dying* was in the finale. Sure, we’ve had name drops and goggle appearances, but actually talking about what happened? One line. One. Freaking. Line.

I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face, you know? He deserved better and so did we. He was a part of that family and they couldn’t even be bothered to address the responses to his death. He was beloved by many of us and they couldn’t even respect him or his fans enough to treat his death like something to be mourned.

That’s wrong, no matter how you look at it.

#Crow’s cawing #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #star wars tbb #Star Wars The Bad Batch Tech #tbb tech #star wars republic commando #republic commando #tbb scorch #clone commando #clone commando scorch #tbb spoilers #Star Wars The Bad Batch spoilers #spoilers

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immabitqueer · 3 months

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Watching House MD for the first time in 2024 full SEASON 1 Review-

- I had learned from his Wiki page before I even started the show that he had a couple of divorces, but Wilson is really bad at marriage, isn't he? His wife is having company and she makes dinner. House calls once and he totally abandons those plans to meet him at a bar. Wilson lies to his wife and says he's working on christmas and then he goes to Houses apartment instead. House continuously implies that wilson is having affairs around the hospital. He's very funny, he's clever, and he can be sweet, but I would NOT want that man as a partner. That being said, whenever House and Cameron were going on a date and he goes to Cameron to tell her not to hurt House was crazy. Everyone is just so worried about Cameron getting hurt and he does NOT care about her. He's like "huh?? why would I care about you i'm here about house??"

- Cameron's crush on House hit me like a ton of bricks. Even before it was revealed that she had a crush. I thought that they were so good as friends. It seems that now at the end of the season. It's kind of been packed up? And i'm glad for that I hope they can go back to being just besties. You kind of begin to see some of the more flawed parts of Cameron in the latter half of this season, which I appreciate. Such as her need to fix things or people. It makes her feel a bit more human and not just a very angelic being.

- Chase also has a lot of flaws shown in the latter half of the season, and a lot more than Cameron. Don't get me wrong, I still love him, but he was one sidedly enemies with a ten year old girl because she was overweight? Also I picked up on a consistent habit that Chase seems to have where in general he's a pretty nice guy, but when things start to go wrong for him, he will say the most out of pocket things to patients. It's a writing quirk that showed up early in the season with the nuns and has been a constant part of his character since. Also, I made a post about this when I watched the episode. But canonically has seen a dominatrix???? More and more ragged pieces of fabric are stitching themselves together to show me a quilt of Chase.

- I hope in the future we get more focus on Foreman as a character. I would like to know everything about this man. And I know that it was a joke at the beginning, but this man really does try to tie every case back to neurology. Him stepping in to tell House not to hurt Cameron by being nice and giving her hope was nice.

- Time for Mister Gregory House himself. Noticing a pattern of him very much being good with children and having no room for idiot parents who are hurting their kids or are weary of medicine. Love to see it. He has a very distinct relationship with everyone on screen. Every person he interacts with, he interacts with the differently. He's pretty hard on Chase, especially after the Vogler incident. He is continuously hard on Foreman as well with an unhealthy dose of micro-aggression mixed in. Generally, he's hard on Chase in a fatherly way and hard on Foreman in a motherly way, if that makes any sense. He is much softer with Cameron. He and Wilson are co-dependent and at the same time can be very cruel to each other, while also supporting each other. It's very interesting to see these dynamics play out.

- Stacy is complicated. Her trying to convince House to do a treatment her husband doesn't want him to do, mirroring how Housebecame disabled was painful. I can see why she would want the treatment for them in both scenarios and I can also see why it can be selfish or wrong. She found someone that doesn't make her feel alone and is willing to forgive her, so in the end I guess she found her way to a happier life. I still think House has the right to be angry, of course and she isn't owed House's forgiveness but she's at least understandable.

Random extra thoughts and things I've noticed:

- THE KID FROM SPY KIDS WAS IN AN EPISODE??

- So was the girl from mean girls, les mis, mama mia, and Jennifer's body, can you tell I don't know peoples names?

- House has the saddest little eyes but they also pierce my soul and make me feel horrible for him, almost like I did something

- House has an array of toys all over his desk, and he plays with his cane or rubber bands all the time

- I could not STAND Vogler. I'm glad they wrapped up his arch this season because I was getting tired of him

Some context:

I'm watching the show mostly because my Twitter and Tumblr were very adamant that I do, but also because I have a running thing where I very rarely finish a show that I start. I've started several shows and finished very few of them. I started watching House on New Year's Eve The day before the first day of 2024 and plan to finish it before the first day of 2025. This is actually a big deal for me because usually I can't finish a show over 3 seasons and the farthest I've gotten is five seasons. I will be posting as I go and also doing a halfway point and a full season review of all 8 seasons.

#house md #hate crimes md #please interact and tell me what you think but no MAJOR spoilers #gregory house #james wilson #allison cameron #robert chase #eric foreman #season review #character study #kind of #house md season 1

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wen-kexing-apologist · 4 months

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Top 5 Emotional Outbursts

See if no one else on this website has my back, I know Ben has my back because he is giving me a chance to talk about my boy Patts once more

TOP 5 EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS OF 2023

Patts, La Pluie

gif by the beautiful, marvelous @liyazaki

Episode 10 was just an absolute masterclass in emotional outbursts. The fight between Lomfon and Patts, then Patts and Tai, then Lomfon and Tien, then Patts and Tai again. Like goddamn, finally thank fuck, Patts is able to let out years worth of frustration and pain at Tai's silence was just so beautiful, and cathartic, and necessary. What an absolutely incredible moment to not only witness but experience. Patts has been so kind, so patient, so forgiving, and it was time for all the pain that he's been letting simmer for two years out. Good! For! Him!

Uea and His Bio Family, Bed Friend

There are few characters in this world I hate more than Uea's mother, and it was so so so so so so wonderful to see Uea finally give her a piece of his mind. I am so proud of him for speaking his mind, standing his ground, and getting the ever living fuck out of his bio family's house. Too personal, sorry, but this fight hit especially well for me because I too have had a parent say they'd live perfectly happily without me, and it was great vindication of my reaction to that to see Uea GTFO immediately after.

Secondarily, James' sobbing screams at the beginning of episode 4 and in the flashback of him getting dragged in to the bathroom when he was an adult have never left my brain. James absolutely crushed those scenes and this was going to be my Bed Friend pick before I remembered this fight exists.

Jim and Li Ming // Heart and His Parents, Moonlight Chicken

I don't think I am exaggerating when I say that Jim and Li Ming's relationship dynamics is one of my favorite of all time. Aof is such an incredible screenwriter/director and I feel like he's able to make such realistic depictions of families in all their complicated glory. The screaming match between Jim and Li Ming is SO good, and really is what solidified my appreciation for Fourth's acting skills because there was a fucking storm cloud on his brow. Happy fucking birthday to you Uncle Jim I guess. Poor fucker.

And then of course, one of the first ever posts I made in the BL Sphere of tumblr was a full essay on Heart's confrontation which I loved so motherfucking much. Once again a much needed fight with lots of interesting, complicated emotions flying around the room.

Kiyoi and Hira, Utsukushii Kare Season 2

gif by @itsallaboutbl

"I'm sorry that I like you" one of the best moments of the year for me by far. This fight between Kiyoi and Hira was desperately, and I mean desperately needed. I know changing will be a slow process for the two of them, and even in Eternal they are no where near where they need to be, but Hira needs/needed to cut this Pebble to a God bullshit out and I am so glad that Kiyoi was able to call him on it. Also from a performance standpoint, Yagi Yusei had his work cut out for him as a scene partner to Hagiwara who absolutely bodied his role as Hira. In season one Yagi did not need to do all that much for his performance because we didn't know as much about Kiyoi until closer to the end, but that cannot be the case for Season 2 and Yagi knocked it out of the motherfucking park.

Sunshine and Q, 7 Days Before Valentine

Okay, almost positive this isn't a BL but I love when people structure TV shows like stage plays, and there was a fight between Sunshine and Q in like Episode 4 or 5 where they were shouting over each other and it just felt so real and the dead silence that hit the room when Q said something that struck a chord with Sunshine was expertly handled, and some of the best work I've seen out of Atom the whole show. I don't think anyone gifed it so I can't put the scene in, but I think you talked about it in your Stray Thoughts @bengiyo

And just cause I wanna, the Top 5 Emotional Outbursts of the pre-2023 shows I watched this year:

In and Wang's fight in 180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us, Ep 8

Gav sobbing about his aunt in Gameboys (the movie, i think?)

Pran sobbing in to Pat's shoulder in Bad Buddy, Ep 10

Tarn's fight with Teh in I Told Sunset About You, Ep 4 (shout out to Smile there because I still cannot believe it was the first thing she filmed on set)

Shiro being terrified Kenji was dying and Kenji being worried Shiro was dying and the resulting clownery from them blurting that out in What Did You Eat Yesterday? I think it was the New Year's special.

ASK ME MY TOP 5 OF ANYTHING BL 2023

#best of bl 2023 #ask game #la pluie the series #bed friend #moonlight chicken #utsukushii kare #7 days before valentine #180 degree longitude passes through us #gameboys #gameboys the series #bad buddy #bbs #i told sunset about you #itsay #what did you eat yesterday?#kinou nani tabeta?

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chaithetics · 9 months

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I was rewatching season 3(the Kendall birthday episode) and I thinking, maybe Stewy and Porce are married, or other story of course; and the part where Ken takes the siblings to see the mocking pictures and it could have one of Porce and Stewy together and Kendall "jokes" about the "crying baby and the shark" and it really upsets her(as it should) and even the siblings are upset by this, and she just turns to him and says "this is why my kids are playing with their cousins(Sophie and Iverson) ,so they don't grow up like you" and goes away. I think that'd be powerful, because the kids have a true bond, Rava and Porce are true friends and Ken is a j*rk, and when Stewy finds out, there'll be a reckoning

Porcelain and the Shark: Too Much Birthday

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x f (Roy) reader

(reader has anxiety, no use of y/n, physical descriptions or other names but does have the nickname Porcelain/Porce - due to family viewing her that way not because of her complexion)

Word count: 3.1K

Chapter warning: 18+ MDNI (smut-free fic) established relationship, fluff, soft Stewy, anxious reader, some familial angst, some cussing, some misogynistic views, Roys being Roys.

Authors note: Thank you so much for sending this in lovely Nonnie! It was such an inspiring ask, I hope you don't mind the few changes I made, please do let me know what you think! I adore you! I'm so glad to be out of hospital and after reading this prompt I was inspired to rewatch this S3 episode. I went a little off-track and I think this one is a bit different to other fics but I made the connection about the misogynistic tones with this and also the poster that Shiv had and saw it as a great opportunity to explore and develop Porce and Shiv's dynamic. Especially with all the asks about girlhood in film and then with the Barbie film re-prompting those conversations I just wanted to explore it even more (this doesn't have Barbie spoilers or mentions btw) so I finished it pretty quickly. It's nice to be back! I'm still pretty unwell despite being out of the hospital so I can't promise or commit to a writing schedule again yet but I'll definitely still be writing more Stewy (I've had a few Barbie inspired asks which I want to get around to asap as well haha). I appreciate you all and I hope you enjoy this! Please do let me know what you think, I'd really appreciate it! Comments, reblogs and asks are more than welcome and appreciated! I adore you all! 💗(PS this hasn't been proofread..."

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Kendall was sensitive, controlling, and obsessive. Which often manifested around certain significant events and moments in his life. It was a quality all of the Roy children seemed to share to an extent, you’d seen it in your siblings numerous times and even occasionally yourself.

Kendall’s birthdays were often disastrous, he wanted perfection, he wanted to fill the hollowness inside with extravagance, validation and company. But it never quite was good enough, it was always disappointing and fell through somehow. You knew the self-created stakes would be even higher for Kendall as it was a ‘significant’ birthday along with the latest edition of family drama. Shiv’s letter had hit pretty hard and far.

You weren’t sure if any of your siblings would go, probably Connor, loyal as always. Rome? Maybe? He had an interesting, pained soft spot for Kendall. Shiv…? You’d think she wouldn’t want to show after recent events but Shiv was cunning and clever. She could show up to play a mind game perhaps? Or maybe they’d show up on behalf of your dad to really get into Kendall’s head. Would your father even attend? You assumed he’d been invited.

It was a lot of questions swirling around in your mind, you weren’t sure of any of those answers. Which was part of the reason why you were certain you needed to go, some visible and physical support for Kendall as you knew he’d be crumbling, you’d all been walking on eggshells your whole lives but the last few years for Kendall, they’d been getting more and more brittle.

You feel a little anxious as you’re stuck so deep inside your head until a familiar and soft voice brings you back.

“Where’d you go?”

His tone is laced with neutrality and an air of caution but his face clearly says that he thinks this is all a bad idea. He looks at you sitting down, facing the mirror, he thinks you look gorgeous but he notices your legs bouncing now that you’re back in reality.

“I was just thinking about Ken.” You try to keep your voice level, without a drop of any emotion.

“We don’t have to go-”

“No-”

“I don’t think we should go.” Stewy resigns. It’s at least the twelfth time he’s said it today.

Stewy hadn’t RSVP’d, he hadn’t acknowledged his separate invitation to yours and had been somewhat silent regarding Kendall. Which was extremely unusual. He didn’t like the direction of the mess of Waystar’s strategic and boardroom politics and his relationship with your family personally and professionally was strained.

You had to go to Kendall’s birthday to support him and you didn’t want to go alone. You felt bad about it but you and Stewy were both aware that the optics of Stewy being there was beneficial for Kendall’s sake.

“I know.” You sigh as you shift a little so that your head is facing him more as you look up at him standing. “He needs this though…And I need you.” You walk over to Stewy, giving him a gentle peck on his soft lips. “Please?” You press your lips against his and wrap your arms around the back of his neck as it deepens, his tongue brushes against yours and your hand tangles a little in his hair as you feel his hands wrap securely around your waist.

“We’ll just go for a little bit?” Your voice is soft as you break away from the kiss, you start to caress his cheek, your fingers dancing over his handsome beard that never ceases to amaze you with how well-trimmed and clean it is. Stewy tilts his head to gently lean his forehead against yours and nods as he inhales.

“You’re too good to me.” You whisper as you give him another kiss on the lips, you can taste the whiskey on him from his drink that’s sitting across the room half-empty. He’s sweet and his touch is so gentle with you.

“Well you’re perfect, you deserve nothing less baby.” He says as he gives you a quick but soft kiss on the lips. “Now, am I matching my turtleneck to what you’re wearing?” He asks with a smug smile. You laugh a little at that and nod, giving his cheek another stroke and then a quick peck on his lips before he squeezes your side and then walks over to the walk-in wardrobe.

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You’d always been anxious about the concept of nannies and babysitters and when those services had been needed you’d preferred to have Connor (when possible) and Stewy’s family watch your children. But you trusted Rava with your life, you adored her and you knew she adored Sophie and Iverson more than anything. So with her reassurance, your children were with their cousins and would be looked after by Rava’s nanny. Sophie had been loudly looking forward to some quality time with her younger cousins which was sweet.

Those thoughts and the anxiety you’d had quickly left your mind though as you and Stewy walked into the venue and through what you were horrified and shocked to learn was a model of Caroline’s vagina.

“Do you think he talked to her about…this…?” You asked Stewy with widened eyes as you waved your hand around gesturing to the bizarre scene of a campy body horror film in front of you.

“No.” Stewy said as his eyes flitted across the room once again to take in the nurses, surgical equipment and very briefly, a “replica” of his mother-in-law's vagina. It was beyond reason, even for Kendall. “They don’t talk in the first place.” He spoke as his hand wrapped around your waist a bit tighter, pulling you in closer as he then navigated you both towards the bar. Stewy was certain alcohol would be necessary to make this night bearable, it was inevitable that someone would blow up.

As you and Stewy stand by the bar waiting for your drinks a man comes over, you don’t think you’ve seen him before and you’re not the biggest fan of the smug expression on his face as his eyes hone in on you.

“Hey, I’m Kyle.” He says boldly, Stewy’s right next to you with his hand on the small of your back. Your ring is visibly on your finger. You’re kind of surprised at the audacity of him, especially with Stewy right next to you. You look at him a bit confused, hoping he’ll end it but his smile persists. “So what’s your name?”

You say your first name as Stewy wraps his arms around you, leaning against your back with his head on your shoulder, making a point.

“Shit, you’re a Roy?!” Kyle asks, you see the flash of excitement in his eyes at that prospect. It grosses you out.

“Hosseini Roy.” You say somewhat firmly, as Stewy quirks an eyebrow and then starts to press some kisses to your shoulder and your exposed neck.

“Right, where’s your husband Ms Roy?” Kyle asks. You don’t know if he’s a stupid asshole or an arrogant one but you know for sure he’s one either way. You feel Stewy chuckle a little at that as the movement of it and its breath tickles your neck.

“The international space station-” You dramatically quip, and Stewy stops his kisses for a moment to laugh at that against your neck. This stranger is being ridiculous and so you may as well if he’s going to be so oblivious, it just so happened to be convenient that Tillie really liked space books and toys at the moment.

“That must be lonely-” Kyle cuts you off and the smirk on his face is too much. You scrunch your face up at him in annoyance.

“Can’t you see that my husband is here? Literally right here?! The whole time you’ve been doing this. Why the cuss did my brother invite you?” You ask with an eye roll as you take Stewy’s hand and walk off before Kyle has a chance to say anything else.

“What a douche.” You say as you lean your head against Stewy’s arm. He pecks a kiss to the top of your forehead with a grin on your face.

“You handled that impeccably.” He says with a small chuckle.

“Well, your act was pretty good.” You say moving your hand to rest against his back and trace patterns there.

“The international space station, I’ve never been. Do you think it has some villas with good views?” He asks playfully.

“Possibly. I don’t think we should invest in space tourism or realty though.” You answer and he laughs.

“Does Tillie think I’m an astronaut?” He asks, thinking about Tillie’s fascination with space.

“No. She’s never said it and I haven’t told her that. But I do think our children are far too young to understand the financial market.”

“You sure? I’d understand if you were worried Jonathan was going to mansplain stocks to you.” Stewy teases, as he presses another kiss to your head as you scoff.

“We’ll leave the mansplaining to you, darling.” You say tilting your head up from his arm to press a kiss to his lips, they’re soft and warm. He looks at you with a large smile.

It’s not long after that that somebody who knows Stewy through work comes over and the three of you have a conversation for a few minutes, you’re pressed into Stewy’s side with his arm around you. You tilt your head and then you see Shiv and Roman coming in and then there’s Ken.

You’re stuck inside with a hit of worry at first, you look at your handsome husband as he’s mid-sentence talking to this finance bro that you’re not the biggest fan of but who is considerably less gross than Kyle. As Stewy finishes his sentence you quickly cut in placing a hand gently on his cheek, he leans into the touch and looks into your eyes affectionately.

“Sorry, Kendall’s over there, I’m going to go over. I’ll find you after okay?” You ask.

“Yeah, of course, baby.” He nods and your lips brush for a quick affectionate kiss, you apologise to the man that you’ve been in a conversation with who nods as you walk off.

You walk over to where three of your siblings are discussing and come over when you hear Shiv saying she couldn’t find a card that said “Happy birthday” and “Get well soon” You look at her with a somewhat pointed expression, she shrugs slightly and raises her eyebrows at you.

After he hugs Shiv, Kendall’s eyes land on you and he smiles. You can tell that he’s glad Shiv and Roman came, even if they’re biting him. It makes you sad but you’re glad that he at least has some solace in that. There’s a bit of banter and you do raise your eyebrows when Roman asks about the vagina replica. When he does his little pleased expression and gesture at being told he can take it home you glare at him.

“Roman!” You exclaim and he smirks at you.

When Shiv asks if Stewy is there, there’s a pointed look from her, some smugness and a pointed look from Kendall but it’s different. It’s more desperate. You nod.

“Yeah, uh- Stewy’s here. He was talking to some finance bro. He’ll come over soon Ken. I just wanted to say hi first” You say. You’re not sure if it’s a half-lie or not yet. But you know it’s better for Kendall’s sake for you to say it, he nods at that and there’s a look in his eyes that you can’t read but boy does it worry you. Shiv drops a few more names and it’s very clear that she and Roman showed up to use it as a business opportunity.

“Hey, I got something to show you. This way. This way!” Kendall says somewhat excitedly and then walks ahead with the Roy siblings following him.

You watch Roman hand Kendall an envelope and after that he retreats back a bit for Shiv to go ahead of him, you raise your eyebrows at him and he raises them back at you.

“Please tell me you’re not stirring the pot?” You ask quietly as you walk side by side.

“I’m not- it’s nice- it’s nice. It’ll be good for Ken.” Roman says, his tone is earnest which surprises you.

Kendall then grabs your attention by talking about what he’s going to show you, you recognise some of the names and you’re intrigued by whatever it is based on that and Kendall’s imagination.

You walk into a room that’s being used as an art gallery space. As you walk in your eyes are immediately assaulted by the fictional headline of Roman. Roman’s response is more upbeat and amused than the tone of his voice or his facial expression. You can see it in his eyes, he’s retreated somewhat and he seems to get lost the longer he looks at it. Everyone knows of his intimacy issues and it’s cruel to point them out in this way you think.

You look at Shiv’s and you just feel angry. It’s a pit in your stomach of fire and you don’t feel this way often, it’s an odd feeling but it’s strong. Connor gets angry with Kendall over his and you understand that but you’re more focused on this. What was Kendall saying? Adding more stigma and cruel jokes onto sex workers? Shaming his sister for her sexuality? Reducing her to just an anti-feminist sex joke?

Shiv’s bobbed around hers and then her eyes land on your one. You turn, already upset at Shiv’s as you clock her shocked gaze at yours before you get a chance to look at it, to process it.

It’s an image of you from your childhood as a baby, it’s been digitally altered so that you’re a baby and you’re in shark-infested waters. You read the headline and comments and feel tears forming in your eyes and they’re hot. Your eyes flit between yours and Shiv, Shiv’s doing her best to hide her discomfort.

Shiv looks at you, her eyes silently saying “I can’t say anything.” And she can’t. You know that. Each step of hers is a careful calculation to avoid the emotional, hormonal, overbearing, hypersensitive, incompetent woman accusations they already throw at her. Whether it’s unspoken or spoken, and it’s both, they all say her head is unfit for that coveted heavy crown.

As a woman, sister, and mother, it’s already there. Your fate, reputation, and purpose. You’re emotional, a crybaby, sensitive and hormonal. But unlike your siblings, and well Shiv, you do not need nor want that tragic fate that they all betray each other for. While there is a sting in providing them ammunition for those perceived claims from your actions and words, it won’t kill you in the same way. You give Shiv a small nod, a silent “I know.” That is only for her.

“What the absolute fuck Ken?” You ask, he looks at you with raised eyebrows.

“What?” He asks with a chuckle.

“What the fuck is this?” You ask gesturing behind you to the large images of you and Shiv in your brother’s eyes.

“It’s a joke, c’mon you don’t need to uh get so emotional about it-” He says and you let out a humourless laugh at that.

“Kendall?! This is disgusting! You’ve reduced Shiv to ‘wife of Tom Wamsgams’ yes, because that’s all she is?! A wife? Oh, and it’s an embarrassing joke to say she’s a sex worker?! So your Times Up campaign is just strictly performative? Mr Fuck the Patriarchy is actually a SWERF trying to humiliate his sister and women for an already stigmatised career? And this is coming from the fact that Shiv has a sexuality…?” You question, he looks at you, not saying a word. Shiv stands near you watching you carefully, as Roman looks down uncomfortably and Connor and Willa stand together tensely. You’ve never spoken out like this against any of them.

“And what is this?” You exclaim as you point to the image behind you. “I’m your sister, you’re meant to care about me. Not infantilise me like that and make cruel, perverted jokes about my marriage. It’s sick Kendall. Stewy and I are there for our kids- we probably see Sophie and Iverson more than you do. This is why they’re close and Rava and I work so hard with them all, so they don’t end up doing this.” You breathe out shakily for a second, Connor looks at you sympathetically, Shiv is still silent but she’s grateful for everything being said. The tears are hot and burn your cheeks where they stay. “You have no idea what it’s like and you’re part of the problem. This is just cruel and it all reeks of so much fucking misogyny. I’ve-I’ve defended you. I’ve defended and supported you my whole life- I didn’t, I didn’t even sign that letter because it was harsh and cold but this is misogynistic and disgusting. This is just so mean and gross.” You finish.

“Fuck off.” Kendall says, it’s somewhat playfully, he has a smirk on his face but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I can’t do this Ken, I can’t. You need to reflect on this and just do better. For us, Rava, Sophie. Just everyone.” You sigh out as more tears come, there’s nothing else to say to him and you’re ready to leave.

Shiv looks at you again, it’s not a scowl or an attempt at nonchalance. It’s also not a smile but her facial expression has softened. There’s another silent conversation, one that surprises you both as they often happen with every other sibling you have except each other. For you both, it’s a moment of understanding. It’s a genuine thank you and the usual, unusual display of Roy love and affection. You both do care about the other and you’re bonded in the impossible difficulties of being a woman. A brief few seconds of sisterhood are shared between you both. For possibly the first time, and even though you both know Shiv may never see you as more than competition due to her nature and your upbringing, you hope it’s not the last time.

You nod looking at her, giving her a small, tight-lipped smile and then leave the room to find Stewy. Shiv watches you leave and gives your quickly retreading silhouette a small smile.

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