#their friendship is so special to me like

[hoonsluvr]

cherry - p.sh

pairing ; bsfsbrother!sunghoon x f!reader

synopsis ; you never thought that an unexpected obsession formed during your trip to southern italy would teach you one life’s cruelest lessons, never fuck your bestfriend’s brother

genre ; summer au, best friend’s older brother, forbidden romance, smut, a bit of fluff, a bit of angst

word count ; 4.8k

inspired by ; cherry - lana del rey

this work contains smut, mdni

cw ; p in v, unprotected sex, spit, choking, gagging, oral fem!receiving, mating press, edging

note ; hii, this is my first work so i’m a bit nervous!! lmk what you think of the layout and feedback in general is appreciated! :)

Was it wrong that you felt happy when your parents announced they wanted to take a vacation alone this year?

You sit opposite them at the dining table, your mom explaining herself for the hundredth time over. Clearly she felt guilty about it but you didn't mind. “You know its our anniversary during that time darling and I hope you understand that we love having you with us, of course we do, but 50th anniversaries are rather special and we’re booking a honeymoon resort.”

You feign a look of sadness to act like you’re listening but your mind is already elsewhere. It wasn’t that you didn’t like spending time with your parents, that wasn’t the problem at all, but now that a family vacation was out of the picture, joining Stella’s family in Italy was back in the conversation.

Soojin, or Stella as she liked to be called was your best friend, your ride or die. Years ago, when you moved to a new town, the Park family were your next door neighbours and you and Stella quickly became close, bonding over your hatred for the town and its people. You two had always felt suffocated in its environment, the way everyone knew everyone’s drama, everyone’s problems, everyone’s secrets. You promised each other that one day you would escape and explore the world together for that very reason.

You were over at her house so much that you were basically a part of the family. You had your thumbprint on their security system, the password to the garage door, and even your own designated chair at the dining table. Her mom used to jokingly call you two sisters, but honestly, that didn’t feel far off. You and Stella had grown up together, seen all of each other’s phases too. The cringe phase, the boy-obsessed phase, oh god- the emo phase, and yet your friendship was still going strong. From weekend sleepovers where you giggled and gossiped all night long to crying on each other’s shoulders after not feeling accepted in school, to smoking your first blunt together, you two had been through every whirlwind experience together. After all these years, you still struggled to express just how much admiration you held for her.

And now, it had come. This was the last summer you had left with her. In 3 months you were going to head North to New York City, to pursue a degree in arts while Stella would remain in your hometown. When you broke the news, you expected her to be angry at you because of the promise you made to travel together forever, but she simply smiled and told you she was proud of you and that she always knew you would make it far.

You felt a pit in your stomach thinking about being apart, you had never really imagined life without her, so imagine your relief and excitement when she proposed that you join her family on their vacation to Italy this summer. One last chance to have the time of your life with your best friend while you were both still young? No one could catch you dead saying no.

-

“Mom, please.” You beg, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from frustration. You sit across from her on the kitchen island, sipping on a mango smoothie as she prepped dinner for tonight. At this point, the conversation had been going on for far too long and both of you were running thin on patience. “I just don’t understand why you won’t let me go.” You huffed, used to getting your way.

Your mother sighs. “Sweetie, I’ve explained this to you. The Parks have done so much for you, your entire life! I just don’t want you to be a burden on them when they’re trying to have a family vacation. They're extremely sweet for offering but it’s a tough situation.”

“Ugh!” You exclaim and your mother shoots you a don’t-be-so-dramatic look. “They offered to have me! And besides, with you and daddy going to Mexico and Stella going to Italy, I’m going to be alone this summer. My last summer before college is going to be spent wasting away. It’ll be years before I see Stella again!” You pout, your eyes sparkling with hope as you see her expression soften, triumphant that you clearly struck a soft spot.

“We’ll see about it darling.” She sighs.

Even with her weary expression, all the tell-tale signs were there. She had been convinced. You stand up, satisfied as you go to text Stella the news.

And that’s how you find yourself going to the South of Italy for three weeks with the Parks: Stella, her mother and father, and her older brother Sunghoon.

Sunghoon had always been a little shy and introverted making him hard to talk to, your four year age gap not doing much to help create a relationship either. Despite that, Sunghoon had always tried being sweet to you. After many attempts of trying to talk to him over the years, you finally managed to break his shell the one time he rescued your prized possession, a teddy bear plush named Ben, from a tree branch. You still remember the warm hug he gave you when you cried over Ben’s stitching being torn and ever since that day, although you wouldn’t call yourself friends, the relationship shifted. It changed from nods of acknowledgement to smiles, from waves of greeting to hugs.

During your last years of middle school, you even developed a small crush on him but you never once told Stella, knowing she would have killed you. Once you turned fourteen, Sunghoon left to go for college and you hadn’t seen him since then. You had no idea what he was like now, his personality, his likes and dislikes, his interests. Honestly, the thought worried you a little. You just decided you would try sticking to Stella on the trip, hoping that things wouldn’t be awkward.

Only if you knew. Only if you knew what was about to happen, you never would’ve chosen to go on that godforsaken trip.

-

The last minute nature of your decision to join the vacation meant that tickets weren’t available on the same flight as the Parks, so you booked one for a flight that arrived in Italy just two days later. You didn’t mind however, you were just excited to spend time with Stella.

And so you arrive in the quaint beach town of Taormina, located on the shorelines of the island of Sicily. The drive from the airport to your location spans over rugged hills overlooking the Loian sea. You maintain small talk with the barely english speaking driver, chatting about what to do in town and what beaches to visit. A gasp leaves your mouth as the taxi comes to a halt outside a stunning Italian villa style Airbnb. You know the Parks aren’t exactly middle class, neither were you, but you weren’t expecting this much grandeur.

Cobblestone bricks line the pathway to the house, leaning up against the ivy covered walls. Heaps of colorful potted flowers are placed at the entrance and a wooden gazebo in the corner catches your eye. Stella is sitting in the gazebo, sipping tea. When she sees you, she jumps up in excitement and rushes over.

“You’re here!” She squeals and twirls you around as you both laugh excitedly. You hear claps of joy from the back as Shin-ah, Stella’s mom steps out of the front door, her husband, Ji-hun in close pursuit. You quickly wish the driver goodbye and thank him before hugging them both fondly.

“Gosh, we only just saw you a month ago and you’ve already become prettier!” Shin-ah exclaims, making you blush and immediately resort to your usual ‘humble’ deflections that you recited out like a poem whenever she complimented you.

You lean to the side, getting up onto your tip-toes to get a glimpse of the dark haired boy who just stepped out of the door. Sunghoon. His short black hair was now grown out into a mullet and he no longer held the smiley expression that his face once always used to carry. You glance at his arms, his thin tank top showing off his muscles, a striking difference to his previously scrawny build. He looks so different. He’s grown now and more confident, no longer the sweet, shy boy you used to crush on. Theres no doubt, Sunghoon Park has matured. He’s a man now. A fucking gorgeous man, that too.

Sunghoon murmurs a half-hearted greeting towards you, reminiscent of the way he used to speak to you before you two became comfortable. You’re not surprised-it had been years since you’d seen him. Traces of your previous dynamics were long gone by now. You return the soft greeting as Shin-ah ushers you into the house, Stella following behind, wheeling your luggage in.

“You must be hungry, come, we’ve already set the table.” And sure enough, the intricately carved wooden dining table was all set up with dishes, cutlery and a large pizza in the centre. Dinner with the Parks is comfortable as you go back and forth with them, discussing the trip’s itinerary, recent stories and more.

Shin-ah glances at Sunghoon before turning back to you. “So, you and Sunghoon haven’t seen each other in a while. He’s been asking what you’ve been up to.” It was horribly obvious that Sunghoon couldn’t care less about what you’d been up to. His mouth opens in annoyance at his mother’s words. “What? No I—" But he’s cut off by a sharp nudge from his father who scowls at him. Embarrassment pools inside of you and you laugh awkwardly before Shin-ah nods encouragingly for you to continue.

“Well uh— I’m going to NYU after this summer. I’m going to be studying art history and I’m hoping to get an internship with a local gallery this summer, after the trip of course. But yeah…” You trail off awkwardly as Sunghoon pretends to be interested. An awkward atmosphere settles over the table and you finish in silence.

After dinner, you head up to your room that you’ll be sharing with Stella. You’re sitting on the floor, unpacking your suitcase while she removes her makeup.

“Hey,” she turns to you, “I’m sorry about what happened with Hoon earlier. I don’t know why he’s acting like that.”

You wave it off. “No, don’t worry about it at all, it’s all good. I’m sure it’ll settle down in a while.”

She nods comfortingly but deep down you feel a little hurt. You knew that it wasn’t going to be the same but you didn’t expect him to be so cold.

-

After a few chaotic days of what felt like never-ending sightseeing and cold shoulders from Sunghoon, you finally collapse onto a picnic blanket out in the back-garden, your white sundress pooling around your knees. You roll over onto your stomach, kicking your legs into the air as you grab your book, the pages soft between your hands as you slowly flip through, trying to find where you left off. Pop. The sound of plastic popping as you open the box of glowing red cherries next to you. Your favorite.

You're a few pages in when a soft voice calls from behind you. “Hey.” You glance behind to see him standing there in a loose white shirt and khaki shorts, holding a book. He laughs softly as you scramble to straighten yourself. “No need for that, you can sit however you want.”

“No, no it's okay,” you shake your head, sitting up straight now, confused at his cheerful demeanour “what do you need?”

“I was wondering if I could join you,” he tilted his head, “you seem to be having fun.”

You squeeze internally. Something about Sunghoon was making you nervous right now but you plaster on a sweet smile nonetheless, “of course.”

You’re hyperaware of his every movement as he approaches and sits down next to you on the blanket. He holds up the book he had and it takes you a second to realise that both of you had gotten the same book to read, ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’. You smile at him, “that’s funny.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He hums. “How’s Ben doing?”

You laugh, the anxious feeling in your stomach fading a little. There’s no need to be nervous in the first place, it’s just Sunghoon. “He’s doing okay. No more accidents since the last.”

The two of you fall into silence. He coughs. "Listen... I uh— I didn't mean to act that way when you first came."

You nod almost immediately. "You don't have to explain yourself, I get it, it's fine."

"No, I was acting like a jerk for no reason. I mean- you know how I am with people at first and I hadn't seen you in a while, it just took me a while to get used to. That's not an excuse for how I acted though, I'm sorry."

You peer at him. "I get it, I figured that's the reason you were acting distant. It's okay. I'm glad we can be pause normal again." You both look at each other and for a second you feel him glance at your lips but his eyes move away so fast, it's impossible to tell. He smiles softly at you.

-

Your legs are crossed as you lounge lazily on a chair on the balcony, taking in the view of the salty sea, waves lapping against the rocks. Once again, a box of perfectly round Italian cherries lay on the table behind you. You couldn't seem to get enough of them.

“You must really like these.” Sunghoon murmurs from behind you, pointing at the box of the sweet fruit. You smile lazily at him, not surprised by his interruption. Somehow, he had been finding you in all sorts of odd places recently, almost as if he was looking for you from the second you disappeared from view. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Sunghoon thought you were pretty. You realised fairly quickly from the way his eyes flicked up and down whenever he saw you, resting on your tits for just a second more.

“They’re my favorite.” You nod, grabbing one and popping it into your mouth as he watches. Maybe it's the way he’s staring at you hungrily but a newfound confidence takes over you. You reach for another cherry but this time, you make sure to hold eye contact with him, looking up with big bambi eyes as your tongue swirls around the sweet fruit. You bite into it and the red juice dribbles down your chin, your eyes glinting. His finger instinctively reaches down, a millimetre away from your chin before you nod to give him permission.

He swipes at the juice on your chin, before pulling his finger back, licking it slowly. Your throat suddenly feels like it’s constricting. You should not be doing this— holy shit you should not be doing this. You stand abruptly, coughing slightly. He doesn’t react much but a slight smirk plays on his face. Pause. “I should go,” you stutter as you rush into the house, heart hammering in your chest.

You try your best to ignore him for the next few days because you had no idea what possessed you to do that. Your mind constantly replayed the moment. The way he stared at you. The way he touched you. The way he licked his finger. God you were so fucked. Every time you saw Stella, you couldn’t help but feel guilty but then you tried comforting yourself. It wasn’t like you had done anything wrong, nothing actually happened.

You didn’t even notice what you were doing at first, your actions seemingly innocent in your mind. You just wanted to make the most of the summer clothes you owned and the heat in Taormina was intense, right? But your skirts were growing shorter and shorter by the day, your bikinis became skimpier and skimpier. That, accompanied by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when he came around, batted your eyelashes at him, knowing it made him crazy-you hadn’t even realised but that little incident between the two of you had made you develop a little obsession with Sunghoon Park, just like the one you had all those years ago. And you were desperate for his attention now.

Right from your shiny olive skin that glistened in the Italian sun to your long hair that swayed as you walked, Sunghoon Park knew you were gorgeous, even more so now that you were making it painfully obvious. He knew. He knew you were doing all of this entirely on purpose but that didn’t mask his staring as you lather on sunscreen, resting beside him in the sand in a floral pink bikini.

You know you have him.

"Hey can you help me with this?" You ask softly, holding out the bottle of sunscreen towards him. His jaw ticks but he takes the bottle from your hand.

"Actually," you smile sweetly, "on second thought, I think I'm done, what do you think?"

If looks could kill, you would strike dead at this very moment from the way he was looking at you. “What’s your game?”

You stare at him, not expecting him to say those words so soon. “What do you mean?” You pout, pretending to be oblivious, a little upset that you didn't get to have that much fun with him before he called you out.

He scoffs. “You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play dumb. You like teasing me and then pulling away at the last moment, don’t you?” When you don’t respond, his expression hardens. “You’re trying to win a game you don’t even know how to play.”

Before you get the chance to respond, the two of you are interrupted as Stella runs to you, laughing.

“Hey are you having fun?” Stella smiles down at you.

“I’m having a great time, thanks.”

She nods as she moves to sit down on the sand, between you and Sunghoon.

Theres a moment of silence before you speak. “Hey Stells, thank you for letting me come. I appreciate it a lot. I would’ve had a terrible summer without you and I’m just really glad we get to spend time together before … you know …”

She smiles at you again. A genuine smile. “I’m gonna miss you. A lot. And I know you’re worried but i’m not, because I know we’ll always be friends. We’ve been through everything together and stupid New York isn’t going to change that.” As she pulls you in for a hug, you feel a pang in your heart. You love your friend and the last thing you want is for her older brother to come between you. But you just can’t help yourself.

You glance up at Sunghoon who's watching you two hug with an emotion in his eyes that you can't quite place. He meets your eyes and you shut yours, unable to look at him any longer. You hold onto Stella tighter, suddenly feeling disgusted with yourself. You're sickening. Sickening and selfish.

-

Your phone screen shows 4:36AM and sleep wasn’t coming. You sit up, rubbing your eyes as you glance at Stella snoring beside you. You get out of bed slowly, the wood creaking beneath you. You desperately needed a walk to clear your mind. Stepping into your fuzzy slippers, you leave the room, entering the narrow corridor outside. Sunghoon’s door stands tall in front of your face, which you would have normally ignored, except today, streaks of light peek out of the crack at the bottom. Why is he awake?

You know you shouldn’t. You know you really shouldn’t but you do it anyways. You knock softly. A few moments pass and you think he might not come. Right as you’re about to leave, the door clicks open and he stands there in grey sweats, shirtless. You choke a little but he doesn’t notice, neither does he seem surprised to see you.

He looks you up and down and you realise what you’re wearing—a tiny pink lace-trim nightgown, barely covering anything. He’s smirking now. “Come in.”

“Uh I—“ You start to say as you begin to regret your decision but you’re cut off by his harsh tone, his smirk now faded, replaced with a hardened expression.

“That wasn't a question. Come. In.”

You swallow nervously as you follow him into the room and shut the door behind you. Sunghoon sits on the edge of the bed, motioning for you to stand in front of him. You do as he asks and now you're staring down at his face, your silky hair hanging loosely, brushing against his cheeks. He starts to grab harshly at your waist and you gasp slightly.

"You think this is funny huh? Playing all these games? Do you have any idea what you're doing at all?" When you don't respond he starts again. “What? Cat got your tongue? Are you all nervous now? Don't be, you started this after all."

You breathe out shakily, hands finding his neck. "Please—"

"Please what?" His smirk is back, he likes that he's finally the one in control. "Say you want me."

"God I want you, I do." You whine pathetically. And whatever little power you may have had over him was gone, he had claimed it back. His dark eyes glint sinisterly as he stands, picking you up by the waist and placing you down onto the bed. Your legs are raised, being held up by his hands as he presses kisses on your left ankle. He slowly makes his way down, nuzzling his nose into your inner thighs. His teeth lock onto your panties and you gasp as he drags them off, discarding them on the floor, leaving you exposed.

"Fuck you're beautiful."

He dives in again, his nose pressing against your clit as he laps harshly at your folds. You throw your head back, a jerk reaction to the sudden sensitivity. You cry out and feel him immediately stop what he was doing. You whine softly in annoyance. "Wow baby, it seems like you really want my sister to know I'm fucking you right now." You swallow harshly as his eyes shoot daggers at you. "Keep. Quiet."

He's looking at your pussy now. You wait, burning to see what he would do. And he spits on it. You gasp, biting your lip to stop the moan. He spits right on your pussy, using his fingers to spread his saliva around your messy area. He begins to lick up your folds again, pressing his tongue down on your clit.

You can't handle it. It's pathetic but you already feel a knot building up in your stomach. "Hoon— I'm going to—"

"Not yet," he spits out, coming up.

You moan weakly in protest but he doesn't seem to care. "You don't deserve to cum yet. You've not been a very good girl have you?" You shake your head.

His hands reach for his pants now, pulling them down in one quick move and you could see how painfully hard he is. Your eyes widen as he pulls out his cock. It was big. Too big. Bigger than you'd ever had before and you didn't know if you would be able to handle it. He laughs, looking at your expression. "Don't worry baby, we'll make it fit."

He pushes your legs up all the way and you were practically bent in half in front of him, your knees blurrily shifting in and out of your peripheral vision. He lines his cock up with your entrance and rubs the tip across your wet folds, groaning softly as his eyes shut. Without warning, he pushes it in and you shriek in surprise, causing him to shove his fingers into your throat. You're choking around his fingers now as he thrusts into you, quickening the pace. Tears stream down your face as you gag, you're close again, you can feel it, but so can he. Just as you're about to reach your high, he stops his motion again and you lean back into the bed, panting hard. You're desperate for release now but as you stare up at his fucked out face through your lashes, smirking down at you, you know he's not going to give you that release anytime soon.

So you go four more rounds. Four more rounds of chasing that desperate high that he pulls away from you at the last moment. You're fucked up now, sweating and panting, your hair splayed across your face as you cried and cried, begging him. The sun had risen now and it pooled in through the window, enveloping you in a warm glow, making your tan skin look golden.

"God baby, you look so fucking sexy right now." Sunghoon reaches an arm towards the desk nearby, where a small pile of digital cameras lay. Stella's digital cameras. The one's she had excitedly bought for the trip, wanting to capture every memory. He points the lens of one of them at you and you don't even have enough energy to protest. Click. And just like that, a picture of you in one of your most fucked up moments was captured forever. He tosses the camera aside, turning his attention back to you.

"You up for one more?"

Strings of gibberish come out from your mouth and he chuckles as he pushes into you once again. He thrusts in and out and you're moaning loudly this time but neither of you cared anymore. You're so sensitive at this point that it doesn't take long for that familiar feeling to arise again. This time, Sunghoon lets you have it. You let out a strangled moan as you feel your orgasm wash over you. Pure fucking euphoria. He collapses on top of you after cumming as well. You reach out, your hands tangling in his hair, stroking his face gently.

You realise you haven't kissed yet. You lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his pink lips. He kisses you back immediately but there is no lust behind it. "You're a goddess, you know that?" He speaks, muffled against your arm. You laugh this time, reaching for the camera next to you. Click. Another picture. But this one is much cuter, the two of you staring into the camera, laughing as your arms are wrapped around him. Click. And another. He's kissing you and you just want to stay in this moment forever.

-

The remainder of the vacation is spent stealing glances and kisses with Sunghoon as you two sneak away at random times together. You visited his room every night, sometimes it was sex and sometimes you just wanted to cuddle.

If there was one thing you were sure of by the end of the vacation, it's that you were madly, madly in love with him. And he was in love with you too.

-

1 month later

You step into your room, flopping onto the bed, exhausted from your shift at the gallery. You pull out your phone to texts from both Stella and Sunghoon. Sunghoon's reads 'see you tomorrow :)' while Stella had texted to cancel your bar plans for the night, wanting to hang out at home instead. You almost feel relieved, too tired to even think of going to the bar. Instead, you quickly change your clothes and head over to the house next door. Shin-ah opens the door and she's delighted to see you as ever.

After exchanging some small talk, you head upstairs to Stella's room, briefly glancing at Sunghoon's door.

"Hey Ste—“ You stop. She isn't there.

You look around, confused for a moment before realising she's sitting outside on the balcony.

"Hey, what's up?" You smile at her as you take the seat beside her.

She doesn't respond, staring straight ahead into the pink sky. She's holding an envelope, nothing too special, just a plain white envelope.

"Do you know what this is?" She speaks for the first time, holding the envelope up, still refusing to look at you.

Your eyebrows furrow. "No?"

She breathes out, finally turning to meet your eyes. You recoil slightly when you see the wild anger looking straight at you. She opens the envelope slowly, almost teasingly. "You know..." She trails, "I recently sent in the film from the trip to be developed."

Your stomach drops.

She knows.

The envelope is finally open and she pulls out three photos. The first one of you laid down on the bed, fucked out with his cock still inside you, then you and Sunghoon are hugging naked, then you're kissing.

You're going to throw up.

"Look at me." She speaks softly, gently, but her voice is full of venom.

You look up to meet her eyes but you just can't do it. Your world is spinning.

"I want you to go to New York," her voice drops to a whisper, "and never come back. I never want to see you again. I never want you to see my brother ever again. Do you understand?"

You're nodding now, pleading silently, tears streaming down your face but you know it's not going to do anything.

She takes your nod as a yes. "Good, then we're clear."

[grogumaximus]

Rico Verhoeven open about friendship with 'super busy' Max Verstappen: 'Nice to see'

"I just think it's great," Verhoeven tells Sportnieuws.nl about Formula 1. That's why he's also present at the opening of the F1 Exhibition in Amsterdam. "And of course I have a few friends who drive well, Max and Lando (Norris, ed.). So that's super cool. I'm super proud of them and it's great to see how they perform at the highest level."

"We're just friends. But we're both extremely busy, so unfortunately we don't see each other often enough," says Verhoeven about his bond with Verstappen. "Of course, he flies around the world for a large part of the year and I'm also preparing for races. But where we can, we see each other. Then we meet in Monaco or the Netherlands and then we enjoy ourselves."

Verhoeven doesn't watch every Grand Prix due to his own busy career. "But I do watch the highlights to see how he did." He was very impressed by the Red Bull driver's qualifying round in Japan. The kickboxer doesn't know much about the sport, he admits. Fortunately, he sometimes gets extra explanation from Jos Verstappen, Max's father.

"When I'm at a race and I'm sitting next to Jos, he's going to explain to me what's actually happening." For example, about pit stops and the choice of a tire type. "I think that's cool. There's a whole strategic game involved. Very interesting to see that and learn more about it."

A career change is not in the cards for Rico. There is no way he would fit into an F1 car. "Maybe only with one leg," laughs Verhoeven.

Verhoeven has a remarkable maternity gift for Verstappen: 'I don't know if he will use them'

The top athlete seems to have an extremely special maternity gift in mind. When asked if he is going to give Verstappen a set of small boxing gloves, Verhoeven grins: “Of course, of course. I don't know if he is going to use them, but we are going to give them anyway.”

Although Verhoeven is of course a big fan of Verstappen in the first place, the kickboxer is really enjoying the current title fight, in which Red Bull currently seems to play a supporting role. "Yes, that's what makes it fun, right? when it's exciting, everyone likes to watch. Oh, what's going to happen? When you know in advance who's going to win..."

The 36-year-old top athlete doesn't think that Formula 1 isn't fun, but that the current scenario is just a bit more fun to follow. "It's not necessarily that there's nothing to it, but it's still very impressive. Only now you're just like: Okay, let's see what's going to happen today." Verhoeven still hopes that Verstappen can win the title. "Always hoping for Max of course. But in the end I just want it... Yes, the one who does the best, can win, right."

[moonlitstoriess]

Could I request an angst to fluff fic for Cassian? The plot can be whatever you want, I can’t think rn

Make It Right- Cassian x fem!reader oneshot

Summary: On Y/N’s birthday, Cassian forgets the special day, caught up in the chaos of the world around them. Hurt and disappointed, Y/N tries to hide her feelings, but Cassian soon realizes his mistake. What follows is a heartfelt apology, and a love that reminds them both that sometimes, making things right takes more than just words.

A/N: Tomorrow is my birthday, yay!! 🥳 This is a little early birthday post I'm sending your way, hoping that you will enjoy it<3 Thank you for the request anon!

See masterlist

Warnings: Angst at first, cassian being an idiot

Y/N woke with a soft stretch, the warmth of sunlight streaming through the window and brushing her face. Today was the day—her birthday. She had woken up with a fluttering excitement in her chest, a smile already forming as she thought of the plans, the laughter, the quiet moments she might share with Cassian.

Her fingers brushed against the empty side of the bed.

Furrowing her brow, Y/N glanced at the space beside her. Cassian wasn't there, and for a moment, she wondered if he had gotten up early for training. But no, that didn't seem right. It wasn’t like him to leave without a word.

Her gaze wandered to the small table beside the bed, where a piece of parchment caught her eye. Cassian’s familiar handwriting sprawled across it, and her heart fluttered. Maybe he was just up to something… maybe it was a surprise.

With a little smile, she reached for the letter and unfolded it carefully, her eyes scanning the words.

My Love, I’ve gone up to the Illyrian camps for a few hours to speak with the warriors about some new strategies we need to implement. You know how it goes—these things are never quick. But I’ll be back before you know it. I know you’re probably still sleeping, so I’ll let you get your rest and will see you soon. I love you more than words can say. I can’t wait to see you later.

Yours forever, Cassian

Y/N blinked at the letter. There was no mention of her birthday. Not a single word about the day that should’ve meant something special between them. Her heart sank just a little, the fluttering excitement slowly replaced with an unfamiliar heaviness. She sat there for a moment, staring at the letter, wondering if she'd missed something, if she was misreading it.

But no, there it was in black ink—nothing about today.

Sighing quietly, she set the letter back down and ran a hand through her hair. Maybe he had something planned. Maybe he was just working on a surprise. Cassian always had a way of doing things in his own time, in his own way. He wouldn’t forget, right?

It was only a few hours, after all. He’d come back, and they’d spend the day together. Maybe he was just setting up something grand for later. Maybe he was waiting to make the moment perfect.

She took a deep breath, pushing the little pang of disappointment aside. He loves me, she reminded herself. He always does.

With that, Y/N stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her clothes and moving toward the window. She still had hope. Cassian was always full of surprises, and she knew, deep down, that he wouldn’t let today slip by without showing her just how much she meant to him.

Right?

The morning passed in a blur of warm wishes and gentle laughter, but still, Y/N couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. The Inner Circle had been kind—so kind—and she was deeply grateful for their love and friendship. Rhys and Feyre had, without hesitation, invited everyone to the River House for a breakfast celebration in her honor. It was a gesture that spoke volumes, and it made her heart swell with affection. The beauty of their bond—of how they all looked out for one another—was something she cherished deeply.

When she’d arrived at the River House, she was greeted with warm smiles, hugs, and laughter. Nesta, for all her quietness, gave her a genuine hug, and even smiled at her, a rare moment that made Y/N’s chest tighten with appreciation. Amren had actually let out a small compliment—something about Y/N’s hair looking especially “charming today,” which made Y/N laugh.

The table was filled with an array of foods, a spread fit for royalty, and there was an undeniable sense of warmth in the air. Feyre had gone out of her way to make sure everything was perfect—her usual artistic flair evident in the way the food was arranged, the flowers placed just so on the table.

But even as the smiles and laughter surrounded her, as they all joked and ate together, there was an ache within her that refused to fade. She couldn’t help but feel a little hollow without Cassian by her side, his absence growing more pronounced as the day wore on. She couldn’t push the thought from her mind—why hadn’t he been here to wish her a happy birthday? Why wasn’t he here now?

Her eyes kept drifting over to the window, the soft breeze moving the curtains gently as though calling her attention to the world outside. She had expected him to show up at any moment, maybe swooping down from the skies in his usual fashion, grinning like a fool and pulling her into his arms, apologizing for being late with a cocky smirk. But no. He hadn’t come. And worse yet, he hadn’t even checked in through their bond, hadn’t sent even a whisper of a thought to her. It was unlike him, and it stung more than she cared to admit.

She tried to focus on the joy of the moment. She really did. She was surrounded by people who loved her. Her friends, her family—each one of them expressing their joy for her in their own unique ways. Nesta had even offered her a gift, something she’d made herself—woven from fine, shimmering strands of thread—and Y/N had been touched beyond measure. Amren’s usual sharp smile seemed more genuine today, her eyes glinting with something softer than usual. And Feyre, as always, had a way of making her feel special—her quiet words of gratitude and love making Y/N’s heart swell.

Azriel, ever the quiet and observant one, had given her a rare smile when he raised his glass to her. His dark eyes held a warmth that she didn’t often see, his gruff exterior slipping just a little in the presence of the people he cared about. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort from the shadowsinger, his support steady and unspoken, as always.

Elain, with her gentle kindness, had hugged her tightly when they first arrived, speaking softly about how much she admired her strength and how happy she was to be a part of the day. The warm sincerity in Elain’s words had made Y/N’s heart ache—she could always rely on her to brighten any room with her peaceful presence.

And then there was Mor. A force of nature in her own right, the bright, bold smile on Mor’s face never seemed to fade. She’d given Y/N a gift, a beautiful piece of jewelry that shimmered with a kind of magic. Mor’s exuberance was infectious, pulling everyone into her orbit, filling the space with laughter and light. She had gone out of her way to make Y/N feel like a queen today, fussing over every detail and making sure Y/N knew just how much she meant to the entire Court.

Each one of them had done their best to make today feel special. They were all here, surrounding her with love and light, and yet... Cassian’s absence loomed over it all, a shadow she couldn’t shake.

She reached for her glass, taking a sip, but her thoughts kept drifting. Maybe he’ll come back soon. She told herself again and again, trying to quell the disappointment. But the longer she sat there, the more she realized something: He wasn’t here. And he wasn’t even thinking about her. The bond between them was silent. No whispers, no gentle pull on her heart. She kept waiting for a flicker of warmth, some kind of connection—but there was nothing.

She pushed the thoughts aside for a moment when Mor raised her glass, calling everyone’s attention to make another toast in her honor. The cheerful clink of glasses around her made her smile, and she tried to focus on the love and laughter in the room. He’s not here right now, she thought, forcing herself to believe it. But I’m still loved. I am loved.

Azriel’s low voice cut through her thoughts, his words aimed at her but spoken with that quiet intensity only he could manage. “Don’t let today be overshadowed by his absence. You’re not alone, Y/N. We’re all here.”

Y/N met his gaze, his deep, steady eyes holding hers. She felt a little lighter, the weight of her worries lifting just slightly. You’re right, she thought, her heart grateful for his reminder. And yet… her mind couldn’t help but wonder, Why wasn’t Cassian here to remind me himself?

As the morning wore on, the atmosphere in the River House felt warm and alive with chatter, music, and the clinking of glasses. Y/N continued to do her best to push away the dull ache that kept settling in her chest, trying to enjoy the celebration for what it was. It wasn’t as though she didn’t appreciate everything her friends were doing for her. They had all been kind and thoughtful, their efforts unmistakable.

But still, she couldn’t quiet the little voice in the back of her mind. Cassian’s absence. The unanswered questions.

It was when Rhys approached her, a gift in hand, that her thoughts were interrupted. He gave her a knowing smile, his eyes gleaming with that familiar warmth. “Happy birthday, Y/N,” he said softly, offering her the small, beautifully wrapped package.

“Thank you, Rhys,” she replied, her smile sincere as she accepted the gift. She’d always adored Rhys’ sense of humor and his ability to bring light into any room, but today… her mind wasn’t fully there. She carefully unwrapped the present, revealing a small, intricate bracelet—crafted from what appeared to be moonstone, its pale light catching the sunlight in a way that made it shimmer like stars. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, touched by his thoughtfulness.

Rhys smiled, watching her with a quiet kind of affection. “I thought it might remind you that even when it feels like someone’s missing, you’re still a part of something bigger. The stars will always be there, just like us.”

Y/N’s heart swelled at his words. “Thank you, Rhys.”

He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “I’m sure Cassian is preparing something extraordinary for you today. Don’t let the silence fool you. He’s up to something.”

Hope bloomed in her chest, delicate at first, like a fragile flower testing the air for warmth. “It wasn’t you who sent him to the Illyrian camps, was it?”

Rhys chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, definitely not. Why would I send him away knowingly on the day of his mate’s birthday?”

Y/N’s pulse quickened. Could it be that there had been a misunderstanding? Had Cassian been caught up in something unexpected? That seemed likely, didn’t it?

Rhys continued, his smile shifting to something more teasing. “He told me that the Illyrian camps had requested him—one of the commanders asked him personally. And I’m sure you know how those requests work. You don’t just say no to an Illyrian commander, especially when they come with an urgent matter. He also told me that he didn’t want Azriel to go since he already has too much on his plate.” Rhys paused, giving her a pointed look. “You know how it is. The more people you have, the more work piles up.”

Y/N nodded, still uncertain but feeling a spark of relief. So it wasn’t Rhys...

“But that’s not the only thing,” Rhys continued, his tone taking on a more knowing edge. “You know as well as I do that when you go up into the camps, you can’t come back before atleast a full day because of all that is going on there. He told me he’d be back by late afternoon. And trust me, he’s never one to be late when it comes to something important. Especially when it involves you. He’ll be here, Y/N. I’m sure of it.”

Y/N’s chest tightened as she processed his words. Cassian wouldn’t miss today. He wouldn’t let me down, not like this...

She looked up at Rhys, who was watching her with an intensity that told her he understood her internal struggle. “I know it’s hard, Y/N. But you have to know this: he’s coming back. I’m sure he’s planning something incredible for you, just like he has every year since you have been mates. It’s just not the way you expected it.”

Her thoughts swirled. I should trust him. I should trust that Cassian loves me enough not to forget today... But her mind kept circling back to the letter. Maybe he really is just caught up in something. Maybe he’s doing everything he can to get back to me.

“Thank you, Rhys,” she whispered, feeling a little lighter. She hoped he was right, hoped that Cassian would return with the grand gesture she was waiting for.

Rhys gave her a wink. “Anytime, Y/N. You deserve all the love in the world. Don’t let today slip by with doubts.”

As Rhys moved back to join the others, Y/N let the words linger in her mind. He’s coming back… he has to be.

But still, a part of her remained uncertain. What if there was more to this than just a simple delay? What if he’s forgotten entirely?

For now, though, she’d wait. She’d trust in the love they shared, in the bond that had always connected them, even when the distance felt unbearable.

As the hours passed, the River House buzzed with life and laughter. Y/N tried her best to keep her smile in place, to enjoy the company of those around her, but it was hard to ignore the absence of the one person she had been waiting for all day.

The birthday breakfast had come and gone, and now the afternoon stretched out before her, warm and full of promise—yet empty without Cassian’s presence. She was surrounded by friends, all of them who cared for her deeply, but somehow, it all felt incomplete.

Azriel and Mor had spent the afternoon lounging outside, talking quietly about their latest missions, their voices low and private. Nesta had wandered off for a while, clearly needing some time alone, but she’d made sure to hug Y/N tightly before slipping away. Feyre had suggested a walk through the gardens, a calm, peaceful escape that allowed them to chat more privately, and Y/N was grateful for the distraction. They’d discussed everything and nothing—how Feyre was adjusting to being a mother, how Y/N had been feeling about the latest changes in the Night Court—but the whole time, her thoughts kept drifting back to the empty space beside her.

Her eyes had lingered on the door, half-expecting to see Cassian come striding through it, his laughter booming in that familiar way, his arms wide to pull her into his embrace. But each time, her hope was met with nothing but the quiet hum of the house.

By the time the afternoon sun began to dip toward evening, Y/N had retreated to a corner of the house, seated in a comfortable chair by the window, looking out at the vast expanse of the world beyond. The river glittered in the fading sunlight, the gentle lapping of the water against the bank providing a quiet soundtrack to her restless thoughts.

She absentmindedly fiddled with the bracelet Rhys had given her, tracing her fingers over the smooth, cool surface. It was a beautiful gift—something she’d treasure forever—but right now, it felt like a reminder of how little she truly had today. She had expected so much more.

She was no stranger to the chaos of Cassian’s life, to the unpredictability of his role as General. She knew that sometimes, his responsibilities pulled him away from her. She’d always understood that. But today… today felt different. Today felt like it should’ve been the day—the one where he set aside everything else to focus on her. To remind her how much she meant to him.

Her thoughts drifted again to that damn letter from the morning. She could still picture the simple words, how they hadn’t even mentioned the significance of the day. Was he really too busy? Was it just bad timing?

A soft, familiar presence appeared at the edge of her thoughts, and she felt the lightest flutter through their bond—a tiny whisper, like a fleeting breath in the back of her mind. It was just a brush, a flicker. But it was enough to make her heart race, enough to make her wonder if perhaps Cassian was finally reaching out.

But no. It was gone almost as quickly as it came.

“Y/N?” Feyre’s voice broke through her reverie, and Y/N turned to find her standing at the edge of the room, watching her with gentle concern in her eyes. “You okay? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

Y/N forced a smile. “Yeah, just thinking.”

Feyre stepped closer, sitting on the edge of the windowsill beside her. “I know it’s hard, waiting for Cassian. But you have to know he’s going to be here soon. He wouldn’t miss today for the world."

Y/N nodded, but the words felt hollow. She appreciated Feyre’s attempt at reassurance, but it didn’t change the emptiness that had settled into her bones.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Y/N murmured, looking down at her hands, where the bracelet rested against her wrist. “I just… I expected more today, you know? More of him. It’s hard not to feel like I’m being forgotten.”

Feyre reached over, gently squeezing Y/N’s hand in hers. “Cassian doesn’t forget. Not about you, not about your worth. I know you know that, deep down. But his responsibilities… they take over sometimes.”

Y/N didn’t say anything, but her heart felt heavy with the truth of Feyre’s words. She knew this. She had always known how demanding Cassian’s work was. Yet, in this moment, none of that seemed to ease the ache in her chest.

They sat in silence for a moment, the quiet of the room thick between them.

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Feyre said after a beat, “Rhys and I were talking earlier. He’s certain Cassian is planning something spectacular. He wouldn’t let this day go by without making it up to you, I promise.”

Y/N gave a small, shaky smile. “I hope you’re right.”

Feyre patted her hand. “Come on, let’s go join the others. The day’s not over yet, and I’m sure Cassian has something up his sleeve. Just you wait.”

Y/N nodded again, standing with Feyre and following her back toward the main part of the house, though her heart still felt heavy. She tried to lose herself in conversation with the others as they discussed plans for the evening, but every time the door creaked open or a breeze brushed past, her hope flickered once again.

Cassian would come, wouldn’t he?

-----

Cassian stood at the edge of the Illyrian camp, his eyes scanning the horizon, watching as his warriors trained, sparred, and carried out their duties. It was the sort of day he dreaded—endless, relentless, and filled with the tension of an impending conflict that threatened to boil over at any moment.

It had all started about a month ago, when he’d received the urgent message from one of the northern commanders. At the time, Cassian delayed coming over himself, choosing to send his trusted men instead. It was also because the communication had come at the worst possible time—just as he was looking forward to a few days of peace, maybe even a quiet evening with Y/N.

However, everyday the commander had kept asking for Casian himself, being very clear: the camps were on the brink of full-scale warfare, and they needed someone who could keep things in order before the situation got worse. And so, Cassian had packed up quickly, his mind focused only on getting things under control. The sooner he got in, the sooner he could return. He had promised himself that it would only be a few hours—perhaps a day at most. After all, how bad could it be?

But of course, as it always did, the situation had escalated.

In the last month, every plan he’d tried to set in motion had been thwarted by a new complication. A new leader from one of the factions had challenged his authority, a skirmish had broken out on the eastern border, and just when Cassian thought things were settling down, word came that another territory was in dispute.

Now, here he was, surrounded by the sounds of clashing metal and the low hum of warriors calling orders, his hands wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword as he surveyed the chaos. His mind was elsewhere, though—not with the men around him or the reports he was reading—but with her. Y/N.

He hadn’t forgotten her—he could never forget her. She was always in his thoughts, even now as he stood in the midst of battle preparations. But the more he thought of her, the more his frustration built. Damn it all, he thought to himself, running a hand through his dark hair. He was supposed to be with her, not stuck here in this endless mess. He had no idea how things had gotten so far out of hand, but there was no turning back now.

He’d hoped the day would be simple. He’d figured, a few hours at most, handle the worst of it, and then be back with her. Maybe they could have a quiet dinner, talk about the quiet things. But now, that hope seemed like a distant memory.

His mind drifted back to the report he’d just received. The situation with the northern factions had worsened. They were demanding reinforcements, and not just a few. This was the kind of situation where Cassian’s presence was absolutelynecessary. He couldn’t just leave it to the others; he had to see it through. The men under his command needed him.

But what about her?

A growl rumbled low in his throat, his frustration turning into a simmering rage. Cassian had thought that after a quick intervention, he’d be back to his mate, back to the woman who kept him grounded and whole. But that had been a naive thought, one that now felt like a cruel joke.

“General,” one of his commanders approached, his voice low and serious. “It’s not just the northern borders. We’ve got problems in the southern territories too. The peace talks fell apart. We’ll need to send someone there immediately.”

Cassian gritted his teeth. Three days. At least three days now. What the hell was he supposed to do? There was no way he could leave things in this state—not when things were this precarious.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, pacing away from the group. He couldn’t even bring himself to speak to the commander again; his thoughts were too clouded, his anger too sharp. The worst part? No one here seemed to understand. They were all too focused on the battle, on the logistics of war, to see the way his heart was breaking with every passing second.

Cassian growled under his breath, his frustration boiling over. He had to stay for the next few days. There was no other option.

But Y/N would understand. Right?

----

Y/N did not, in fact, understand.

When she saw Rhys leave and come back with a letter in his hand, his expression serious and slightly sorrowful as he headed straight for Azriel, she knew something was wrong.

Feyre and Elain were beside her, their soft laughter and conversation swirling around like a gentle breeze, but Y/N barely heard any of it. Her eyes were fixed on the two males standing by the doorway, voices hushed but movements tight with frustration. Rhys’ brow was furrowed as he handed the note to Azriel, and Az ran a hand through his hair as he read it, wings twitching slightly behind him.

Her stomach sank.

It was the way Azriel’s jaw clenched. The way Rhys’ hand dropped to his side, fingers curling into a fist. The kind of body language that meant bad news. And neither of them had looked her way.

Feyre nudged her gently, drawing her back. “Y/N? You zoned out for a second there.”

“Oh—sorry,” Y/N murmured, blinking and trying to force a smile. “I’m listening.”

But she wasn’t. Not really. Because now Azriel had started speaking, fast and low, and Rhys wasn’t looking at him—he was looking at her.

That told her everything she needed to know.

She stood slowly, the movement enough to draw the attention of both males. Azriel glanced down at the note in his hand, then up at her, his expression unreadable. Rhys looked like he was preparing himself for something—his lips pressed together, a crease forming between his brows.

Y/N didn’t wait for them to come to her.

She crossed the room silently, her heart pounding louder with each step. She kept her voice steady when she stopped in front of them, even though it felt like her lungs had been replaced by lead.

“What is it?”

Rhys hesitated. Azriel looked to him, clearly unsure if he should speak, but then Rhys sighed quietly and extended the letter to her. “It’s from Cassian.”

She took it with slow fingers. The seal wasn’t the one he usually used for her—no wax in her favorite color, no scribbled heart in the corner like he sometimes added when he was feeling particularly smug or sweet. Just plain parchment, a rushed signature.

Her throat tightened before she even unfolded it.

It wasn’t long. A few brief sentences. A quick explanation. He’d been pulled deeper into the situation than expected. The camps were at each other’s throats. He couldn’t leave—not yet. Not for another few days. I will send news soon. Take care of Y/N for me.

No mention of what today was. Not even a line.

She didn’t realize how tightly her fingers were gripping the paper until Rhys gently reached out, his hand brushing her elbow. “Y/N—”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly, folding the letter with practiced calm. “He’s needed there. I get it.”

Neither Rhys nor Azriel looked convinced.

Feyre and Elain had gone quiet behind her. She could feel their concern, the heaviness in the room like a sudden shift in air pressure.

Y/N took a slow breath and looked out the window, blinking back the sting in her eyes. She had waited. All day. Told herself he was coming. That this wasn’t like him.

And maybe it wasn’t.

But the letter in her hand said otherwise.

Because it didn’t even say happy birthday.

And no matter how many times she told herself that Cassian loved her—that his duties were important, that Illyria needed him—there was a sharp, echoing silence in her chest where he should have been today.

Where his voice should’ve whispered through the bond, where his arms should’ve wrapped around her, where his presence should’ve reminded her that she mattered.

She swallowed tightly and turned away, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I’m tired,” she murmured. “I think I’ll head home.”

“I don’t understand. How could he forget?” Rhys practically growled, pacing in the center of the room now. “Cassian has never—not once—missed her birthday. Every godsdamned year, he’s gone all out. The male made her a sunrise flight over the Sidra last year because she said she liked the color of the sky in the morning—”

“He always remembers,” Azriel cut in, his voice dark and tight with frustration. “He’s never been like this. Not with her.” His shadows curled tighter around his shoulders, restless and tense.

Feyre, standing near the window, arms folded, nodded slowly. “It’s not like him. Something’s not right. And even if he’s overwhelmed, even if Illyria is falling apart, there’s no way he doesn’t know what today is.”

“I’ll go to him,” Azriel said abruptly, already half-turned toward the door, his voice quiet but deadly. “I’ll tell him myself. I’ll show him that fucking letter and—”

“That idiot,” Mor muttered, appearing from the hallway with a sharp look in her golden eyes. “That idiot. She waited all day, Az. He should’ve been here. At least a godsdamned message.”

“I will make him listen,” Azriel continued, shadows snapping around his fists. “I’ll fly to him right now and—”

“Stop.”

Y/N’s voice was quiet, strained—but no one heard her. Or maybe they didn’t listen. The air was thick with indignation, protective fury, confusion.

“Stop,” she said again, a little louder, stepping further into the room. Still nothing.

Rhys was muttering about how he should’ve known, how he should’ve sent someone else to the camps. Feyre was pacing now. Even Elain, sweet Elain, had a worried furrow in her brow.

“Stop!”

The word cracked through the space like thunder.

Everyone froze.

The silence that followed was deafening. Y/N stood in the middle of the room now, chin high, fists clenched at her sides. Her breathing was steady, but the tremble in her fingers betrayed the storm inside her.

“No one,” she said, voice low but unyielding. “No one is going to say a word to him.”

Rhys opened his mouth to protest.

Y/N’s gaze cut to him with sharp precision, a warning that stopped him cold.

“I mean it,” she said firmly, looking at each of them in turn. “He needs to realize this himself. If any of you go running to tell him, if you scold him or guilt him or push him into some half-hearted apology… it won’t mean anything. He has to see it. He has to feel it. Not because you reminded him. Not because someone handed him the truth. Because he looked around, realized something was missing, and knew it was me.”

Azriel stepped forward, his jaw clenched. “Y/N, he loves you. He would never—”

“I know he loves me,” she said, gentler this time. “But love doesn’t excuse neglect. Love doesn’t mean never making mistakes. And I’m not mad that he’s busy. I understand his duty. But today? Today he forgot me. Not just the celebration—me.”

Elain opened her mouth, but closed it again with a sympathetic frown.

Y/N took a slow breath. “Please. It’s my birthday. And this is my wish. That none of you mention this to him. Let him come home on his own. Let him see the damage on his own. Let him fix it on his own.”

The silence returned, heavier now. And then, after a long pause, Rhys finally let out a breath, raking a hand through his hair.

“Very well,” he said quietly. “I will give him a few days to realize his mistake. But.” His violet eyes locked on hers. “There is no way in any world that I am letting you spend your birthday alone.”

Y/N’s lips parted, already forming a protest. “Rhys, really, I—”

“But nothing,” Feyre cut in, already taking Y/N’s hand. “We listened to you. Now you listen to us.”

“We’re your family too,” Elain said softly, stepping up on Y/N’s other side. “And you don’t deserve to sit in silence when there’s still joy to be found today.”

“The others will be back soon,” she added, already moving toward the doors leading to the terrace. “And we are not letting this day end with you hiding in a corner feeling forgotten.”

Before she could argue further, Feyre gave her hand a gentle tug. “Let’s go outside. Breathe. Laugh a little. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

Y/N nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She wasn’t sure she could laugh—not right now—but the way they looked at her, all of them, she knew they wouldn’t let her fall apart alone.

So she let them lead her toward the open doors and into the golden light of the setting sun, the scent of flowers on the breeze and the soft murmur of the Sidra below.

And even as she smiled for them, even as she tried to be present, there was still that hollow space inside her where he should’ve been.

Where Cassian should have been.

She didn’t even notice the tears at first. They came suddenly, soundless, slipping down her cheeks like they’d always belonged there. She was seated on a bench between Elain and Feyre, hands curled tightly in her lap, when it hit her again.

She didn’t speak. She just cried.

And neither sister said a word. Feyre looped an arm gently around her shoulders, drawing her into the curve of her body while Elain wrapped both hands around hers. They didn’t offer empty reassurances or tell her to cheer up. They didn’t need to. They simply sat with her, and that was enough.

Later, as the garden lights blinked to life and the air cooled, Nesta returned from Valkyrie mission—sharper than usual, but her expression softened the moment she saw Y/N. No questions. No demands. Just a nod of acknowledgment as she took the seat across from her and quietly passed over a little parcel wrapped in silver cloth. A gift she’d made herself—something small, personal, and thoughtful.

Amren appeared not long after, her hair swept back in a polished twist, the edges of her black coat fluttering around her like shadows. She sat beside Nesta with a huff, muttering about “tedious Court matters” and “being dragged into babysitting lesser fae politics,” but even she leaned over to ruffle Y/N’s hair with an uncharacteristically soft, “Happy birthday, girl. Don’t let the bat’s absence ruin it.”

And just when Y/N thought the night was over, Elain insisted they all follow her inside.

There, on the kitchen table, sat a cake.

Beautiful and slightly lopsided, covered in sugared wildflowers and soft frosting that shimmered faintly under the faelight. Elain had made it herself—had spent the past two nights sneaking time in the kitchens, hiding it from even Feyre. “I wanted to do something just for you,” she said shyly, and Y/N had nearly cried all over again

The rest of the day passed like a slow, strange dream.

They dined together after that. A warm, chaotic, makeshift dinner, thrown together by a dozen helping hands. Everyone gathered—those who had come and gone through the day returning for the final hours. They drank and toasted and teased one another with ridiculous, affectionate banter. Rhys told a story from centuries ago involving Cassian and a very unfortunate tree, and even Y/N had laughed until her ribs ached.

There were moments—fleeting ones—where she forgot the ache in her chest. Where the comfort of those around her dulled the sting enough that she could pretend everything was okay.

But only for a moment.

Because the ache always returned. It pulsed behind every laugh, every sip of wine, every flicker of candlelight.

Cassian hadn’t come. He hadn’t sent a message. He hadn’t said happy birthday. He had completely forgotten.

And no matter how kind the others were, how hard they tried to lift her up, his absence sat heavy on her chest like a stone.

Eventually, under Rhys and Feyre’s gentle insistence, she agreed to stay the night. They wouldn’t let her go home alone. Not like this. “Just take the guest room,” Feyre said softly. “Sleep. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Y/N agreed.

She closed the door behind her as quietly as she could. The room was warm, cozy, with soft throws and a little vase of fresh flowers on the nightstand—typical Feyre. Thoughtful to the end. She changed into the clothes someone had folded at the foot of the bed, washed her face slowly, and went through the motions of settling in.

She told herself not to cry again.

She had cried enough.

She folded her dirty clothes. Brushed out her hair. Lit a small candle with a flick of faelight. Tidied a nightstand that didn’t even belong to her.

She did everything except lie down.

But eventually, her limbs couldn’t carry her anymore.

Y/N slipped beneath the covers, curled onto her side, and stared out the window. The moon hung low and silver, casting light across the bed in quiet streaks.

And that was when her heart finally gave in.

The tears came again, thick and silent, slipping down her cheeks and into the pillow as she clutched it tighter to her chest. Her throat burned. Her ribs ached. She didn’t sob, didn’t make a sound—but the pain was all-consuming.

How had he forgotten her?

How had the one person who knew her better than anyone not felt how much this would break her?

She thought of his arms. His scent. His laugh. The way he always kissed her temple before bed. The way he used to whisper goodnight into her soul through the bond.

Tonight, there was nothing.

No whisper. No warmth.

Only the sound of her own quiet, broken breathing.

--------

Cassian ran a hand through his hair, muscles aching, exhaustion carved deep into every inch of his body. He hadn’t slept more than a few hours in the past three days—not with the Illyrian warbands breathing fire down each other’s throats. He’d been everywhere. Breaking up fights. Mediating screaming matches. Holding war councils that felt more like babysitting sessions for ancient, prideful warriors who couldn’t see past their own egos.

The tensions weren’t just high—they were explosive.

What had started as a two-camp territorial squabble had now grown into something far more dangerous. Old rivalries, wounded egos, unspoken grudges—everything was bubbling to the surface. Cassian had tried, Gods he had tried, to get ahead of it. But every solution he carved out only gave birth to two more problems. Every ceasefire threatened to collapse under the weight of centuries-old hate.

Still, he pressed on.

He was the General of the Night Court. This was his job. His burden.

And yet…

He had thought about her. Hundreds of times.

Y/N’s smile. Her laugh. The way she scrunched her nose when she read something she disagreed with. The way she always tucked herself into his side like she belonged there—because she did. Her warmth, her scent, the quiet weight of her in his arms every night.

But now, that warmth felt so far away. And worse, she was… closed off.

He had reached for her through the bond multiple times since arriving in the camps. And every time, it was like pressing his hand against a locked door. Her walls were up, impenetrable in a way they hadn’t been since the earliest days of their bond.

That had set something cold and uneasy in his chest.

So, he had reached out to Rhys.

“Is she alright?” he’d asked through their mental link, concern thick in his tone.

Rhys’ response had come slower than usual. Clipped. “She’s fine. She’s staying with us.”

That was it.

No warmth. No elaboration.

Cassian had tried to rationalize it. Maybe Rhys was just busy. Maybe Y/N was tired. Maybe she didn’t want to worry him. But it gnawed at him—sharp and growing. She hadn’t answered any of his letters, either. He’d written three. All of them long, thoughtful—pouring out everything he couldn’t say across the distance. And still… nothing.

He frowned now, standing just outside the camp’s central tent, the icy wind biting at his skin despite the thick armor.

He didn’t understand. What was going on?

What was he missing?

He didn’t have the chance to spiral further—because a voice cut through the wind behind him.

“The Shadowsinger is here.”

Cassian blinked, turning immediately, his brow furrowing. “What?”

The young Illyrian warrior bowed slightly. “He arrived moments ago. He’s waiting for you near the ridge.”

Azriel? Here?

Cassian was already moving, striding across the frostbitten field toward the overlook, confusion swirling in his chest. What in the Mother’s name is Az doing here? He would’ve known if something had gone wrong at the River House. Rhys would’ve said something—surely.

And then he saw him.

Azriel stood with his arms folded, his expression unreadable, shadows curling languidly around his form as he stared out over the mountains.

“Az,” Cassian called as he approached. “What the hell are you doing here? Did Rhys send you?”

Azriel didn’t turn. “I came on my own.”

That wasn’t normal. Not with Azriel.

Cassian stopped a few feet away, arms outstretched in disbelief. “Okay, what is going on? Rhys is cold with me, Y/N’s got her walls up so high I can’t even feel her, and now you show up like death himself—what did I do? Did I commit a fucking massacre and forget about it?”

Azriel’s jaw ticked, but his voice was cool as ice. “You might as well have.”

Cassian’s stomach dropped. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Azriel finally turned to face him, his gaze hard. “You’ve been so wrapped up in this godsdamned chaos that you didn’t even realize what day it was.”

Cassian blinked. “What?”

Azriel shook his head, sighing harshly. “Go back. I’ll take over from here.”

“What—? Why?” Cassian stepped in front of him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Does Rhys need me? Did something happen—?”

Azriel shrugged his hand off with practiced ease, brushing past him without another word.

But as he walked away, his voice drifted over his shoulder.

“Your mate needs you.”

Cassian stilled.

The words hit him like a punch to the ribs.

Y/N.

Something snapped into place—something instinctual, primal. Protective.

His body straightened, his heart roaring in his chest as dread crashed over him like a tidal wave. His wings flared, already preparing to launch him into the skies.

Something had happened.

She was hurting.

And he hadn’t known.

Didn’t feel it.

His mate needed him—and he was not there.

Cassian didn’t waste another second. He turned on his heel, barked a few quick orders to the nearest commander, and took off into the sky, wind slicing around him like blades.

What happened to her?

My wife needs me.

The sky was clear, painted in soft shades of spring blue with faint wisps of clouds drifting lazily across it. The garden smelled like lavender and sun-warmed stone, and a gentle breeze tugged playfully at Y/N’s hair. It was, by all accounts, a beautiful day.

She barely noticed.

Feyre sat beside her on a picnic blanket spread out over the grass, barefoot, a smudge of green paint on her cheek as she carefully filled in the petals of a wildflower on her canvas. She looked peaceful, serene even—and Y/N had tried, Gods she’d tried, to match that energy. To find something resembling calm.

Feyre had said painting would help. That it had always helped her.

A good distraction.

And maybe it was. For the first few minutes, dipping her brush in soft hues, dragging color across blank canvas, she’d managed to escape the haze of disappointment clinging to her.

But the relief never lasted long.

Three days.

It had been three entire days since her birthday. Since that night she’d cried herself to sleep in a guest room that wasn’t hers. Since the cake Elain had made. Since the weight of it all settled into her bones like something permanent.

Cassian still hadn’t realized.

Not even a whisper through the bond, though she wouldn’t have heard it if he had tried—because she hadn’t opened herself to him. Not once. She couldn’t. Not when every second of silence felt like proof that he had simply... forgotten.

She hadn’t even touched his letters. They sat in her nightstand unopened, their presence mocking her more with each day that passed. She told herself that if she read them, it would mean she was ready to forgive him.

And she wasn’t.

A shaky breath escaped her as she dipped her brush again—only to knock over the small pot of blue paint beside her. It spilled onto the grass, soaking into the roots like a spreading bruise.

“Oops,” she mumbled, reaching for a cloth.

Feyre chuckled softly beside her. “That was my favorite shade too.”

Y/N huffed a laugh, but it was empty. “Of course it was.”

Feyre leaned back on her hands, eyes soft. “You’ve been quiet again.”

Y/N kept blotting at the grass. “I’m trying not to ruin your peaceful moment.”

“Y/N…” Feyre’s voice lowered, all teasing gone. “You’re allowed to feel what you’re feeling.”

“I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore,” she muttered, finally sitting back. “It’s like—I’m angry. I’m sad. I miss him so much it physically hurts, but then I remember he still doesn’t even realize what he’s done and—” She stopped herself, swallowing hard. “It makes everything worse.”

Feyre reached over, brushing a bit of paint off Y/N’s arm. “He’ll figure it out.”

Y/N shook her head slowly. “And what if he doesn’t? What if this is just who he is now?”

Before Feyre could answer, a voice shattered the moment like glass against stone.

“Y/N!”

Y/N’s entire body went rigid.

The brush dropped from her fingers.

That voice. That voice that lived in her soul, in her every memory, every dream—rough and deep and warm like a storm in the distance. She turned slowly, heart thudding so loud she could barely hear anything else.

And there he was.

Cassian.

Striding toward her from the River House doors, wind-blown and armor-clad, broad shoulders moving with frantic urgency. Behind him, Rhysand stood, arms crossed, mouth pressed in a line, expression unreadable. Feyre had frozen beside her, eyes wide.

But Y/N couldn’t stop staring.

Gods, he looked the same and yet... not. Exhausted, eyes bloodshot, hair wind-tangled. But his face—his face lit up the second their eyes met.

Her Cassian, this was her Cassian.

“Y/N,” he breathed again, and then he was in front of her.

Cassian dropped to his knees, his arms wrapping around her tightly, protectively, one hand cradling the back of her head as he pressed his face into her neck.

“Thank the Mother,” he whispered, kissing her cheek, her jaw, her temple. “I thought—I thought something happened to you. I couldn’t feel you, you weren’t answering, and Rhys wouldn’t tell me anything and—”

Y/N was frozen in his arms.

She hadn’t realized how much she missed his scent. His warmth. How much she’d been craving the weight of his embrace, his voice breaking apart with relief.

But then she looked up.

Feyre was staring in wide-eyed shock. Rhys was watching coldly, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

And suddenly the pain returned.

Y/N pushed against Cassian’s chest, slowly at first—then more firmly.

He pulled back, blinking, confusion flickering across his handsome face.

“Y/N?” he said softly, voice catching.

She stood, brushing off her skirt, not daring to meet his eyes.

“Go back to your job, Cassian,” she said, her voice quiet but sharp. “It’s far more important anyway.”

The hurt that flashed across his face nearly undid her.

He turned toward Rhys, clearly seeking answers, but Rhys just shrugged—cool and unapologetic.

Feyre opened her mouth, stepping forward, about to say something—

But Rhys gently nudged her back with a warning look, stopping her mid-breath.

And Y/N didn’t wait.

She pushed past Cassian, her heart hammering, vision blurring as she made her way down the garden path without looking back.

Behind her, she heard Cassian curse softly—and then the sound of footsteps as he ran after her.

“Y/N—” Cassian’s voice rang behind her, hurried footsteps following as she stormed back into the River House.

She didn’t stop.

He cursed behind her—something muffled and sharp as he bumped into a low table near the hallway. She heard the crash of something ceramic hitting the floor.

“Y/N, please—wait, just—talk to me—”

She marched deeper into the house, hands trembling, her vision hazy from the heat of unshed tears. Her name kept falling from his lips like a prayer, desperate and confused. But she wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t.

Not until he caught up and grabbed her arm.

Not harshly. Just enough to pull her to a stop.

“Y/N—”

She spun around, wrenching her arm from his grasp with more force than necessary, her breath ragged as she shouted, “What?”

The hallway echoed with her voice, the sharpness of it slicing through the air like a blade.

Cassian took a step back, blinking at her, stunned. “I—why are you acting like this? What is going on?”

She let out a humorless, choked laugh, folding her arms as her eyes flashed. “Oh, I don’t know, Cassian. Maybe I’m just a little emotional. Maybe I’ve just lost my mind.”

His brow furrowed. “Y/N, don’t—”

“No, you don’t!” she snapped, pointing a finger at his chest. “You don’t get to walk in here after three days like everything’s normal, like you haven’t been ghosting me while I’ve been drowning in confusion and—hurt.”

Cassian’s wings flared, frustration bleeding into his voice. “I haven’t been ghosting you! I’ve been at the camps! I tried reaching you, you had your walls up and Rhys wouldn’t tell me anything and I—Mother above, Y/N! What?!” His voice rose to a thunderous echo, his hands thrown up. “What is it?! Why have you been acting this way?! What the hell has gotten into you?!”

Y/N stared at him, her lip trembling as the words tore out of her like a storm breaking loose.

“IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY!”

The world seemed to stop.

Cassian’s mouth parted, eyes widening as her voice echoed down the hallway. He stood frozen in place—watching her like he didn’t understand what he’d just heard. Like it didn’t make sense.

She saw the realization dawn on his face slowly. The shift in his eyes. The disbelief. The guilt.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and fast, as she went on, her voice shaking with fury and grief.

“It was my birthday, and you left. You forgot. You didn’t send a letter. You didn’t say anything. No note. No kiss. Not even a godsdamned Happy Birthday, Cassian!”

She laughed bitterly, choking on her own tears. “Forget gifts or celebrations. I would’ve taken one sentence through the bond. One single thought. But there was nothing. You left me behind like I was—nothing.”

He opened his mouth, eyes already glossing with tears, but she kept going.

“And I waited,” she hissed, voice cracking. “I waited all day thinking maybe—just maybe—you were going to surprise me. I made excuses for you. Told myself it wasn’t your fault. But it’s been three days. You never realized. You didn’t even remember me.”

Her voice dropped then, just a whisper.

“Do I even mean something to you anymore?”

Cassian’s face crumpled.

“Do you even love me?”

A tear slid down his cheek.

“Y/N…” he whispered, stepping forward, voice raw. “*My love—*of course I love you. Of course I do. You are my everything. My soul is bound to yours—how could I ever stop loving you?”

He ran a trembling hand through his hair, jaw clenching as he cursed himself under his breath. “I’m an idiot. I’m the worst kind of bastard. I should’ve remembered—I should’ve—Mother, I hate myself for this.”

He tried to reach for her again, but she stepped back.

“No,” she said sharply, holding up a trembling hand to stop him. “Don’t. I can’t—not right now.”

“Y/N, please—”

“I think it’s best,” she said, quieter now, broken. “If we stay apart for a while.”

His face twisted. “No, you don’t mean that—”

“I do,” she whispered, shaking her head, more tears falling. “I don’t think I want to see you right now.”

“Just let me explain—”

She turned away.

Cassian took a desperate step toward her, but stopped when she didn’t pause, didn’t look back.

And with one final breathless, shattering beat between them, Y/N climbed the stairs—leaving him standing there, alone in the hallway, heart split wide open.

-------

Cassian sat hunched over on the plush River House couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He didn’t move. He barely breathed. The only thing keeping him grounded was the faint buzz of his own heartbeat in his ears, and the way his eyes were locked on the floor—unblinking, like if he just stared hard enough, he could turn back time.

The silence was tense. Suffocating.

And then—

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Rhys snapped, his voice sharp enough to slice through steel.

Cassian didn’t flinch. He didn’t even lift his head.

Rhys paced in front of him like a caged beast, his power a rolling storm beneath his skin, his violet eyes sparking with fury. “You forgot. You forgot her birthday, Cassian. The one day that’s about her. The one day she deserved your whole world without question—and you gave her silence.”

Cassian remained motionless.

“She cried for hours,” Rhys went on, each word like a dagger. “She didn’t even open your letters. Do you know how fucking heartbroken she had to be, to shut off your bond like that?”

“I tried to reach her,” Cassian rasped.

Rhys didn’t let up. “Not hard enough.”

Feyre, from where she stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed tightly over her chest, said quietly, “Rhys…”

But Rhys was too far gone.

“She waited for you. Defended you. Hoped. While we all sat there trying to keep her smiling, trying to fill the space you left behind.”

“I should have gone to the camps myself,” he seethed, starting to pace again. “Azriel shouldn’t be there, either. I’m the High Lord. I should’ve handled it. Godsdammit, I should have known this would happen. I knew something was off with her and I—”

“She didn’t want you to know,” Feyre cut in gently, but even she sounded like the weight of it was pressing too heavy.

Cassian still hadn’t moved.

Not until, in a hoarse, barely audible whisper, he said, “I hate myself.”

That stopped everything.

Rhys stilled. Feyre’s breath caught. The room went deathly quiet.

Cassian slowly lifted his head, eyes glassy but burning. His voice was louder now, rough with barely restrained emotion. “I hate myself for what I’ve done to her.”

His fingers curled into fists against his knees.

“I keep thinking about her face,” he growled. “When she turned around and shouted at me. When she looked at me like I was a stranger. Like I didn’t even know her anymore.”

He looked up at them, jaw clenched so tight it trembled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Rhys’s face was unreadable. “She didn’t allow us to,” he said quietly. “She wanted you to realize it yourself. Said it had to be you.”

Cassian let out a low, agonized sound and collapsed back into the couch, throwing his head against the cushions and staring up at the ceiling like it held answers. “Of course she did,” he muttered. “Because she’s better than me. Because she deserved someone who would’ve remembered without being told.”

Feyre crossed the room and gently sat beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Cassian,” she said softly, “you messed up. But this… this doesn’t have to be the end of everything. She’s hurt, yes. But she’s still your mate. You can fix this—but not with words. Not with apologies. With actions.”

Rhys added from the corner, his voice calm but firm now, “Sitting here sulking won’t do you any good. The damage is done. The only question now is: what are you going to do about it?”

Cassian sat up slowly, his chest rising and falling with a deep, steadying breath. His eyes still glistened—but now, there was something steely behind them. Something solid.

“You’re right,” he said, voice low, determined.

He stood, cracking his knuckles, the gears in his mind already turning.

“I’m going to prove to her just how much I love her. I’m going to make this right, no matter how long it takes. I’ll grovel. I’ll bleed for her. I’ll get on my fucking knees if that’s what she wants.”

He looked between them, eyes fierce.

She’s my mate. My heart. My everything. And I will not lose her over this. Not without fighting like hell for her.

And as he stormed out of the room, the weight of his promise followed him like wings in flight.

--------

The moment Y/N had turned her back on him, the realization hit Cassian with the force of a war hammer. The words she’d thrown at him — the tear-filled accusations — echoed in his mind. It wasn’t just her birthday that he’d missed, but the very core of their bond. The trust that had always been between them, the connection that held them together, had been shattered.

For hours, he sat in the silence of the House of Wind, a pit of guilt consuming him. The only thing he could do was write.

The first letter was simple.

“Y/N, I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I didn’t deserve the trust you gave me, and I failed you. I’ve failed us both. I hope, one day, you’ll let me try again. Yours, always, Cassian”

He left it at her door with a small gift--a basket of her favourite flowers--, knowing she wouldn’t open it, but hoping the gesture would be enough. He left, retreating to the gardens to stand in the silence, his thoughts only of her.

Every morning after that, Cassian woke up before the sun, writing a letter. And then, as he left it at her door, he went back to his watch over the House, always close, but never too close. Each letter was more desperate, more vulnerable than the last, with a gift beside it.

“Y/N, Do you remember when we first met? I was a fool. I didn’t know then that it was you who would change everything. I didn’t know that one day, I would come to love you in a way I never thought possible. But I should have remembered you — every day, always. And I failed you. Please, don’t shut me out forever. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. With all the love I have, Cassian”

The gift next to this letter was a set of the books she wanted to buy for a while.

And the next.

“Y/N, I remember your laugh — it was always the highlight of my day. Every time I heard it, I thought I had everything I ever needed. But that laugh is silenced now, and I know it’s because of me. I’m sorry. I’ll keep saying it until you’re tired of hearing it. But I will keep saying it. Yours, in regret, Cassian”

The gift was an exciting array of her favourite sweets from the bakery nearby.

But still, nothing. Not even a glance in his direction. He kept his distance, his heart heavier each day, knowing that he had done this to himself.

A week had passed since Y/N’s birthday. The house was quiet, the laughter from before now distant and hollow. Cassian had spent every minute of those days trying to find a way to fix this, to make it right.

But he knew what he had to do.

The night before, he worked — with the help of Elain for the food, Feyre for the decorations, and Amren for the music — to set up the garden. He had been there before, countless times, but this time it felt different. The air, the atmosphere, the quiet, heavy regret weighing down his every step.

It wasn’t perfect. The cake was a little lopsided, the candles not quite the right height, the wine too sweet, but it was the effort he’d put into it.

Cassian stood under the arch of flowers, staring out into the empty garden, waiting for Y/N.

And he waited.

But she never came.

Well, that was expected. Time to grovel some more.

Each day, he wrote more. His words were no longer just apologies, but reflections of the bond he had with her, a bond he could never again take for granted.

The next letter arrived, tucked neatly under her door.

“Y/N, I thought I knew what love was before I met you. I thought it was strength, something built on the battlefield. But love with you — it’s quiet moments, tender glances, it’s all the things I never knew I needed. I won’t ever stop fighting for you. Not until you know just how much you mean to me. Cassian”

the gift beside the letter was a beautiful ruby glass heart container that stored a small vial of perfume, infused with the essence of the lavender blooms from the cliffs of Velaris — a scent that reminded him of Y/N’s laughter, the way her presence filled any room with warmth and joy.

The days dragged on as Cassian poured every ounce of his focus into making up for his mistakes. Each day, he sat in his favorite spot by the window, gazing out at the skies, thinking about the next moment he could make it right. He knew he couldn’t fix the damage he’d done with mere words — it would take action, sincerity, and time.

On the sixth day since the argument, Cassian finally gathered the courage to present the gift he had so carefully crafted. It had been almost impossible to get any sleep these past few days, his guilt and love driving him to the brink. He had even considered getting down on his knees to beg for forgiveness, but he knew it wasn’t enough to simply ask for her love — he had to show her.

Cassian stood in the heart of Velaris' gardens, a place where he and Y/N had spent so many peaceful moments together—under the sprawling canopy of ancient trees, surrounded by blooming flowers that burst with vibrant colors. He had chosen this spot on purpose. He knew that their love had always been nurtured here, where the earth seemed to echo the beauty of their bond, and the breeze carried whispers of memories.

He hadn’t expected her to come. After everything that had happened, he had resigned himself to the idea that Y/N might never forgive him. The ache in his chest was unbearable as he stared at the perfect arrangement he had created—a table set for two, draped with a soft, silk cloth that shimmered in the light of the setting sun. Candles flickered in delicate holders, casting a warm glow, while the scent of jasmine and lavender filled the air—flowers Y/N had once told him reminded her of serenity.

He wasn’t sure if she would ever forgive him, but he had to try. He had to show her that he had learned. That he was worthy of her love.

The gift he had chosen for her sat at the center of the table on a velvet cloth, a small, intricately carved box.

Inside it lay something special: a silver locket. A locket that held a tiny, hand-painted picture of Y/N, done in beautiful detail, her smile captured perfectly by the artist who had worked tirelessly to get every little detail right. The locket was attached to a delicate silver chain, with intricate swirls of magic carved into the edges. Inside, it also held a piece of stardust—a glowing reminder of their bond, a symbol of the magic that connected them, no matter how far apart they might be.

The locket was something personal, something Cassian knew would mean the world to her. He hoped she could see it as more than just a gift, but as a promise—of his love, his regret, and his dedication to never again make her feel forgotten.

He wasn’t sure if she’d come. The hours passed, the sun beginning to set, casting everything in a golden light that felt both beautiful and heavy with the weight of his regrets.

But then, just as he had almost resigned himself to the fact that she might never return, the soft sound of footsteps echoed through the garden.

Cassian’s breath caught in his throat. He turned around slowly, his heart pounding as he saw Y/N standing in the entrance, her eyes cautious but filled with something he could not yet name. She wore a soft, flowing gown that shimmered in the fading light. The sight of her took his breath away, but the sadness in her eyes made it impossible to smile.

She stood there, frozen for a long moment, her gaze lingering on the table and the gift. Cassian felt his chest tighten. Was she here to yell at him again? To push him away? Or was there a chance, a small hope, that she might forgive him?

"Y/N..." His voice was a low rasp as he took a step toward her, his heart beating painfully fast.

She still didn’t move, her eyes fixed on the gift and the flowers. The moment stretched, the silence heavy and filled with everything unspoken.

“Cassian,” she whispered, her voice so small, so unsure.

Cassian stepped closer, as if compelled by an invisible force, his arms trembling as he slowly reached for the small velvet box, his heart in his throat. He placed it in her hands, his voice barely a whisper. “I know I’ve hurt you… and I can never take that back. But this is for you. To show you how much you mean to me. Please, Y/N. Please just let me try.”

Y/N stared at the box in her hands for a moment, the tension between them palpable, before she carefully opened it, revealing the silver locket inside. Her breath caught, and Cassian watched the flicker of emotion pass across her face—surprise, confusion, and something softer that made him ache.

He’d prepared himself for rejection, for anger, but the quiet sorrow in her eyes cut deeper than any of that.

She gently ran her fingers over the locket, her touch reverent, as if she was trying to make sense of it. The garden around them seemed to hold its breath in that moment, the flowers swaying in the soft breeze as if waiting for her words.

“Cassian…” Her voice was a mere whisper, fragile like glass, and it sent a ripple of pain through his chest. He watched her carefully, wanting to hold her, but knowing she wasn’t ready for that yet.

“I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to fix this. I…” He trailed off, his own words failing him. What could he say to make her understand the depth of his regret? The weight of the mistakes he had made? “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. And I—I know I’ve failed you. I’ve hurt you in a way I never should have. But please, just know that I would never, ever do it again especially not knowingly. I would burn the world down for you, Y/N.”

Her eyes flickered with emotion, her lips trembling as she finally looked up from the locket, meeting his gaze. “I know you love me, Cassian.” The words were quiet, but they were enough to shatter some of the walls around his heart. “I know you do. But love isn’t just in the words. It’s in the actions. It’s in showing up when it matters the most. And when you didn’t even think of me on my birthday—when you didn’t even check in—I felt... invisible. Forgotten. Like I didn’t matter to you.”

The pain in her voice stung, and he took a step closer, his own voice strained as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could have been there for you. But I didn’t—”

“No.” She shook her head, cutting him off. “It wasn’t just that you weren’t there. It was that you didn’t even remember. It wasn’t about the gifts or the gestures. It was about you—the one person I thought would never forget, never let me feel alone.” She swallowed hard, her eyes beginning to shimmer with unshed tears. “I needed you. And you weren’t there.”

The words were a dagger to his chest, and he couldn’t breathe for a moment. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I know that. But Y/N… I’m here now. And I’ll spend every single day making up for it. You mean the world to me. I’m nothing without you. You’re my heart. My mate. My everything.”

Her gaze softened, but the hurt was still there, lingering like a shadow between them. She took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the locket as she held it close to her heart. “I was so angry, Cassian. I didn’t even know if I could forgive you. I couldn’t understand how you could forget me like that. But...” She paused, her breath shaky as she wiped away a tear. “But I love you. And I can’t just hold on to that anger. I don’t want to. I want to forgive you. I need to forgive you.”

Cassian’s breath caught in his throat. “Y/N… you mean it?”

She nodded, her tears now falling freely as she took a step closer to him, her voice soft but unwavering. “I mean it. You’re my mate, Cassian. And I know we’ve been through worse. I can’t lose you over this.”

Before he could say anything more, she closed the distance between them, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face into his chest. Cassian’s arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her close as if he never wanted to let go. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her, the feel of her against him filling the empty space in his soul.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry for making you feel like that. I never want to hurt you again. You’re everything to me.”

Y/N pulled back slightly, her eyes still glistening with tears, but the softness in her gaze was undeniable. “Don’t do that again. Please.” She punched him lightly in the chest, her laugh shaky but genuine. “Don’t you dare forget me like that again. Not on something so important.”

Cassian chuckled softly, the sound like music to his ears after the storm they had just weathered. “I swear to you, I’ll never forget again. You’re my heart, Y/N. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

She smirked, shaking her head. “Better. Now, let’s sit down and eat. I’m starving.”

Cassian grinned and, with a gentle but firm hand on her back, guided her to the table he had prepared. The soft flicker of candlelight illuminated their faces as they sat down together, the world around them quiet and peaceful. The only sounds were the soft crackle of the candles, the rustling of the leaves in the breeze, and the occasional clink of silverware.

He smiled at her, that same playful grin she loved so much, and poured her a glass of wine. “You sure you’re not just hungry for an excuse to avoid the subject of my deeply regrettable failure?” He teased, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. “Maybe. But you’re lucky I love you, idiot.” She picked up her glass, clinking it gently against his. “To us, Cassian. To love. To second chances.”

“To second chances,” he echoed, his heart lighter than it had been in days. He leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss against her lips before pulling back and saying softly, “I’ll spend my entire life proving to you that I’m worthy of the love you’ve given me. I promise.”

They spent the evening together in the garden, talking, laughing, and simply being with each other. The night was soft and full of promise, and though the pain of the past few days still lingered in the corners of their minds, it was no longer all-consuming. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Cassian felt peace settle in his heart. He had his mate back. And that was all that mattered.

As the stars twinkled overhead, Cassian knew one thing for certain: he would never let her down again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[bluelizard100]

Here’s a WIP I had sitting in my notes app for forever that I finally got around to finishing

Study abroad reader x Soap (my beloved) !!!

Warnings: kidnapping, non-con, bondage with a belt, post TBI Soap, very little editing, obsessive & unstable Soap, poorly written Scottish accent lmao

4.1k word count

Studying abroad seemed like the best opportunity you ever could’ve gotten. You were ecstatic, packed up and ready to fly over to Scotland, knowing there was a room at the university of Edinburgh waiting for you. 

It all seemed so perfect. You got to travel without having to worry about missing your studies, and this was a wonderful opportunity to meet new people and make connections.

Just as you had wanted, everything was perfect. It would’ve stayed perfect if you hadn’t met Johnny.

“John MacTavish, but a bonnie thing like you can call me Johnny,” he’d said to you.

He was a flirt, and to you it was harmless, temporary fun. The two of you grew close fast. You ate lunch with him, hung out with him during your breaks, and you even spent the night at his place a couple times. You’d spend evenings texting or calling, unloading your stresses onto him while he cracked jokes to make you feel better.

He never talked much about his own problems with work— you understood, though. How much can he really talk about his problems with the military? He was special forces, after all— SAS. He never even told you how he got the gnarly scar on his temple. He talked about his team sometimes, but rarely ever a few words. He always just seemed happier to listen to you.

It was a wonderful thing, your friendship with him. There was an obvious connection between you two, an unspoken chemistry. You entertained the idea of something more with him, but you never brought it up; how could you? You had to leave eventually, so what was the point? What if he didn’t feel the same way, and you were just reading too far into things? He seemed like the type to flirt with his friends. If you went for it and asked him out, and he said no, you’d ruin the entire friendship. He probably wasn’t interested— you’re just a friend to him. Right?

After an entire year in Scotland, it was finally time to pack up and fly back home. You didn’t want to leave, but you missed home. It’d been a whole 365 days since you had seen your friends and family back home, and you longed to sleep in your own bed again.

When you told Johnny it was time for you to go back home, his eyes flashed with a dark intensity. You should’ve acknowledged the subtle shift, should’ve known something was wrong. You shouldn’t have ignored the unease building in your gut, but you didn’t.

He’s probably just pushing down his emotions. He’s a soldier; I bet he’s not even allowed to have feelings. You rationalized your disquiet away as you shoved haphazardly folded clothes into a stuffed suitcase.

It was the night before your flight that he finally showed you how he felt. You don’t remember much other than a prick to your neck, and then darkness.

—

You wake up in what you think is Johnny’s sitting room, sat on the couch with your wrists tied behind your back and your ankles bound together. Your head is pounding, your eyes burn, and your mouth and throat are dry. It’s too painful to think. Your tongue feels like sandpaper in your mouth, desiccated by whatever concoction was injected into your veins.

It takes you a moment to realize that you are, in fact, in Johnny’s sitting room, and not some random person’s house. It’s both relieving and terrifying to wake up in your friend’s home; you know where you are, you know you’re with someone who’s supposed to be safe… but you’re tied up and you were very obviously drugged.

Thoughts race through your head. Why am I here? And where is Johnny? What did he give me? Is Johnny okay? Did a terrorist capture him? Am I being used as a hostage?

Your thoughts spiral out of control with each scenario you came up with. Each new hypothetical has your blood pressure spiking and your heart fluttering. Just before you can open your mouth to scream, you hear footsteps.

Johnny emerges from the kitchen, stepping through the doorway lightly and almost calmly. You melt with relief, so glad to see that he’s okay that you don’t even notice his lack of panic.

“Johnny!” You nearly weep. He walks towards the couch, giving you a warm, loving smile. You don’t even realize you’re crying until he kneels down in front of you and wipes a tear from your cheek.

“Oh, baby, ye dinnae need tae cry,” he coos.

You squirm on the couch, tugging against the ropes that keep you immobile. “J-Johnny,” you stammer, “you gotta untie me.”

His expression darkens, the warmth fading away.

You’re still panicked, though. You haven’t realized yet that there isn’t any danger except for the man in front of you.

“Johnny, we have to hurry.”

The danger in Johnny’s expression fizzles, replaced by confusion. “What?”

“Before they come back,” you sniffle. “The men who took me— they’re terrorists, right? We have to leave!”

Again, Johnny smiled at you. Poor thing. So naive.

“No terrorist, baby. We’re safe, aye?”

You break down again, crying with relief. Johnny sits himself on the couch and pulls you up into his lap, gingerly untying your wrists and ankles.

“Just you an’ me. It’s okay, ye dinnae need to cry.”

You babble into his neck, blaming your tears on whatever drugs you were given. He only shushes you, rocking you gently in his arms.

You cry for what feels like an eternity, but Johnny holds you tight. To you, he’s comforting you, offering himself as an anchor to your out of control emotions.

To him, he’s holding you tight so you can’t run away. He’s the anchor that’s going to keep you here, with him.

Where you belong.

—

You wake again, this time in Johnny’s room. In his bed. Wrapped in his arms.

He’s already awake, staring at you with unnerving intensity. It disappears as soon as he catches your eye, replaced with another one of his warm smiles.

It takes a moment for you to remember what happened, and even then, your brain decides to focus on your flight.

“Holy fuck!”

You spring out of Johnny’s bed so quickly that you stumble, the too-sudden postural change making your vision spot. Johnny hurries after you, wrapping an arm around your waist when you wobble.

Then his grip tightens. You’re being dragged back to the bed.

“Johnny,” you gasp, “I gotta- I gotta go. I missed my flight!” He pushes you back into the bed, grumbling when you slap at his arms.

“I need to go now!” You shout. You’ll have people waiting for you, school expecting you. You have to at least call.

You don’t get a chance to explain any of it. Johnny pushes you down onto your back and clamps his big hand over your mouth.

“Stop fuckin’ moving,” he demands, frustration turning his tone rough and mean. He stares into your wide eyes, his face inches from yours. You freeze out of pure shock, and when Johnny’s sure you’ll listen, he pulls his hand from your mouth.

“There we go,” he hums. “You’ve got nowhere ta be, baby. Ah took care o’ everythin’ for ya.”

The fuck does that mean?

“You… what? No, Johnny, I have to—“

You’re cut off again by him clamping his hand over your mouth.

“I said nae. Yer’ stayin’ here.”

You push at his shoulders, trying to get him off you, but he collects both your wrists in his free hand and pins them to your chest.

“I cannae let ye leave.” Johnny’s voice is thick with emotion, so intense that it scares you. You’ve never heard him like this. He’s always so lighthearted and unserious, turning everything into a joke. Now here he is, so genuine that his voice is unsteady.

“I need ya. I need ye here with me, by my side. They dinnae need ye; I do. They don’t deserve ye. They— they abandoned you, let ye come to a strange country all by yerself. Who fuckin’ knows what could’ve happened if I hadnae found ye so early on?”

He’s rambling, almost like he’s speaking to you and to himself. Like he’s trying to rationalize this, forcing it to make rational sense to you and ease his own guilt.

“I’d never leave ye. I’d never let ye get yerself in danger like they did. I’ll protect ye, keep ye safe and sound right here wi’ me.”

Johnny grew more and more distraught as he rambled, spilling his delusions while you tried to keep your tears at bay.

Finally, it all clicks.

Johnny— your friend Johnny, who was warm and kind and funny, had kidnapped you.

He drugged you, tied you up, and dragged you back to his house. He made you miss your flight back home. And now, apparently he’s holding you hostage.

Amidst his breakdown, Johnny notices the tears welling up in your eyes. “No, baby, no, no tears,” he coos, uncovering your mouth to cup your cheek instead. “It’s okay. Ah ken it’s a lot of feelings right now— love is a lot tae feel.”

For a moment you just stare at him. You just have to stare. Dumbfounded.

He thinks these tears are because I love him? He think I’m, what, overwhelmed with joy?

“…Johnny,” you say, voice shaky yet full of conviction, “you need to let me go.”

You watch Johnny’s face fall, see tears turn his eyes glassy. You almost feel bad.

Then he snarls, his expression turning vicious.

“Fuck no,” he growls, slamming your wrists above your head. He presses down until his nose presses against yours, until the breath he exhales is the breath you take in.

“I already said I’m not fuckin’ losing ye. I’ll no’ let ye go back to another—“

His voice cracks, and you feel hot tears drip onto your cheeks.

“…another man. I’m cannae let ye go back home. I cannae let some other lad sweep ye off yer feet and take ye from me, while I’m an entire fuckin’ country away from ye, helpless tae stop it.”

He takes a ragged breath and buries his face into your neck. “You’re mine. I said willnae lose ye.”

You don’t get a chance to even utter a response before Johnny snaps again, pressing you down harder against his mattress.

“If ye don’t want tae stay, I’ll make ye,” he snarls.

His free hand goes to his belt, and your cry of protest does nothing to deter him.

“I’ll show ye,” he mutters. “I’ll show ye how good I’ll be to ya.”

While you thrash and scream underneath him, Johnny loops his belt around your wrists and secures them to the headboard.

“Johnny stop! Stop it! Fucking let me go!”

Your shouting again does nothing. Johnny’s in some crazed state, not hearing anything— and if he is hearing it, it’s not affecting him.

Fabric tears, the sound drowned out by your screaming. Cool air hits your belly, and Johnny stuffs a ripped half of your shirt into your mouth.

He undresses you wordlessly, tearing the rest of your shirt off and then your bra. Your pants don’t get torn— simply yanked off your legs, your panties dragged along with them.

When you’re fully naked, tears streaming down your cheeks, is when Johnny finally stops. He pauses, sucks in a full breath, and stares.

God, he fucking stares. If you could, you’d curl in on yourself, hide from his burning gaze.

When he finally speaks, his voice is gentle. It almost startles you, the contrast between his earlier snarling and his current loving rumbling making your hair stand on end.

“Oh, baby,” he breathes. “My sweet, beautiful wee bride.”

A shocked cry escapes you, the sound muffled by the scrap of shirt he shoved between your lips.

“Shh shh shh,” Johnny shushes you gently. “No cryin’ now. No more cryin’.”

His hands, rough with callouses, roam over your body. He starts at your hips, sliding up over your waist, feeling each individual rib, tracing the sides of your breasts, up your chest, gentle at your neck, until he finally cups your face in both hands.

“I’ll be the best husband ye could ever ask for, bonnie.”

You whimper, shake your head no, and he frowns.

“No?” He asks incredulously. “I ken what the problem is. Ye cannae turn that big brain o’ yers off. Are ye thinking too much again, baby?”

He uses his hold on your face to nod your head yes.

“Aw, I ken, baby. Ye’re always so nervous’, lettin’ that anxiety ruin everything.”

Johnny presses his lips to your forehead before he descends, making his way down your body. When he settles between your thighs, wrapping his arms around them to keep you still, he meets your teary eyes with his own intense, piercing blue stare.

“Let yer husband make it all better.”

He licks a long stripe up your cunt, from slit to clit, eliciting a sharp squeal that stays trapped behind your gag.

He’s gentle about it, laving his tongue against you in slow, gentle strokes. He’s making out with your pussy, kissing at your clit and sucking on your lips while you wail into your gag.

He pushes his tongue inside you, tasting you with an appreciative groan that vibrates around your pussy. You squeal again, and you swear he puffs out an amused breath through his nose.

Johnny alternates between those gentle licks and experimental plunges until your breath turns shallow. Your body succumbs, giving in to the desire you’ve harbored for so long even while your mind screams that this is wrong.

Against all your inner turmoil, your efforts to control your body’s responses fail. Your hips twitch and a tiny moan sounds from your lips, nearly imperceptible with the cloth muffling your voice.

But Johnny caught it.

And the air shifts.

He pauses, and you look down to see him staring up at you with a devious, excited glint in his eyes.

“There we go,” he growls, satisfaction spilling from his tone. “All warmed up.”

Your brow furrows with confusion, but Johnny answers your wordless question so quickly it gives you whiplash.

In what feels like a mere second, Johnny reaches up and rips the cloth from your mouth and returns to his spot between your thighs, latching onto your clit and sucking hard.

Intense, overwhelming pleasure shoots through your belly like electricity, ripping a startled scream from you.

He latched on tight, refusing to let go even as you buck your hips and cry out into the room, begging for a break.

Johnny releases your clit with a pop and looks up at you with a proud grin. “Told ye, baby, I’m gonna make it better— gonna take care of those racin’ thoughts. I’ll make sure ye cannae think about anythin’ at all.”

It should be a threat, but he said it so sweetly; It was like a loving promise.

Johnny dips back down, only this time he starts flicking his tongue over your poor clit, tormenting your swollen nub.

Again you cry out, unable to keep quiet. Johnny’s attacking your most sensitive spot, tormenting you with your own body. While you squirm and cry, your hips buck and roll in time with his tongue, searching for more.

Your efforts are rewarded with a satisfied grunt from Johnny, and he doubled his own. You didn’t think it was possible, but he proves you wrong— his tongue moves faster, harder, and he tightens his grip on your thighs to keep you from wiggling too much.

Your wails turn to moans, each sound that leaves you more desperate than the last. Tantalizing warmth floods your belly, along with a pressure that keeps building and building.

Each sound Johnny forces from you is taken as encouragement. Although your logical mind hates every aspect of this, you know that if he stopped now you wouldn’t be able to keep from begging. You’re too close for him to stop; the want has reached the tipping point to a primal need. Luckily for you, Johnny wants to deliver.

If you were paying more attention (read: if you were capable of paying attention), you’d have noticed that Johnny was losing himself, too. He’s rutting his hips against the mattress like an animal, matching the beastly way he devours your cunt.

Your abdomen tightens and your thighs fight to squeeze shut, cueing the band in your core to snap.

In a panic, still conscious enough to realize that you’re about to come on your friend-turned-kidnapper’s tongue, you glance down between your thighs.

Johnny had looked up at your face as soon as he felt your thighs squeeze. When you met his eyes, glazed over with need, that torturous band snapped.

Head thrown back in a strangled moan, molten pleasure rolling through your body like magma forcing its way to the surface, your body surrendering itself to Johnny.

Johnny refused to let up, lapping at your entrance to get every last taste of your release. You feared he wasn’t going to stop, uttering a breathless “please” with the last of your energy. Your plea was like music, the sweetest melody he’d ever heard, and he finally pulled away.

You let your head flop back against your pillow, muscles finally going lax. Johnny crawled back up your body, caging you in with his arms, elbows propped on either side of your head.

“There ye are,” he hums, looking down at you with nothing short of adoration. “Not thinkin’ so much now, huh?”

You don’t answer— can’t answer, really— but Johnny doesn’t mind. He smiles and cups your cheek again. Then, he’s leaning down and kissing you. Kissing you for the first time.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about this before; what it would be like if you took the chance and told Johnny you had feelings for him.

You’d thought about how it would feel to kiss him. Would he be gentle, play it safe for the first time? Or would he be rough and passionate? Would his lips be soft, or would you have to tease him into using chapstick?

Every scenario you’d come up with had been domestic. Nothing like what you’re experiencing now, trapped underneath him with your wrists secured to the headboard. The taste of your own arousal lingering on his lips.

Johnny is gentle as he kisses you. He takes his time, savoring the feel of your lips against his, the way you go slack and just accept it.

Accept his affections.

Accept him.

He nips at your bottom lip before pulling away and strokes his thumb over your cheek.

“The sweetest bride I could ever ask for,” he whispers.

Bride. The title has you squirming again, tugging against the belt at your wrists and using your legs to try and buck him off.

“Och—“ he huffs, pressing his hips down against yours. “Quit that.”

You stiffen. His hard-on presses down against you through his pants, which shouldn’t be surprising, but actually feeling it is enough to make you go still.

He grins at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Now he looks like the Johnny you know. The Johnny you befriended. His expression is incongruous— he shouldn’t be looking so playful right now, so unserious. But here he is, looking like this is all some practical joke.

The worst part? It makes you feel better.

His playfulness is familiar. It offers you the comfort that you so desperately need right now, acting as a subtle reassurance that— despite all of this— everything’s going to be okay.

“That’s a good girl,” Johnny murmurs, giving you a little peck on the lips.

“You’re thinkin’ again, though. Gotta do something about that before ye work yerself up again.”

He pulls his shirt off, throwing it down to the floor. His pants and boxers follow. He doesn’t take his time undressing, stripping himself down just as quickly as he did you.

Your breath hitches when you catch sight of his hard cock. It looks almost painful, ruddy at and around the tip and leaking.

He wraps his big hand around it and strokes it a few times, pumping up and down his length with a groan.

“Gonna make it official, baby,” he groans, lining himself up with your cunt. “Gonna make ye my wife.”

With that, he pushes in, groaning again as your warmth envelops him. He moves slowly, again savoring the feel of your bodies joining.

Your earlier orgasm prepped you enough to take the edge off, but the stretch of his cock was still enough to burn.

A whine sounds from your throat and your eyes squeeze shut, an instinctive reaction to the sudden burst of pain.

Johnny coos, but he doesn’t stop. “Poor thing. Ah ken it’s big, but Ah also ken ye can take it.”

He keeps pushing in, in, in, until he finally bottoms out and his hips meet yours. Johnny finally pauses, then, giving you a moment to get used to him.

You’re so full, stuffed so tight with him that he’s almost all you can think about.

Johnny practically trembles, his restraint hair-thin. “Ye feel so good, so warm,” he rasps, dipping down to nip at your neck. “My wife. Mine. Gonna treat ye right, better than anyone else ever could.”

He reaches up and, to your surprise, unbuckles the belt and frees your wrists.

“C’mon, baby, touch me. I know ye want to.”

You don’t move, your arms just laying above your head where he’d let them flop. Johnny sighs and grabs ahold of your thighs, hiking them up and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Stop thinkin’,” he huffs, grabbing your wrists next. He brings them up to his shoulders, holding them there until you finally touch, grasping his firm muscles.

“Good girl.”

You get another quick kiss before Johnny starts to move, and you feel your belly muscles flutter. That weird rippling sensation, like butterflies but better, and a moan catches you by surprise.

Just like before, Johnny takes it as encouragement. He moves a bit faster, changes the angle of his hips until you squeal. He growls like an animal, feral for your pleasure.

His big hands cup your tits, squeezing and kneading before he switches to rolling his thumbs over your pebbled nipples.

“Such a good girl,” he growls, getting lost in you for the second time tonight. “So perfect. M’ sweet wee baby, my bonnie wife.”

He zeroes in on that spot, the spot that makes you squeal, and targets it over and over. It’s too much, worse than when he went down on you. The sensitivity from then spills over to now, heightening everything he makes you feel.

The wiry hair at his pelvis tickles to your clit each time he fucks into you.

Too much.

He nails that perfect spot deep inside you over and over.

Too much.

His pinches and teases your sensitive nipples until they’re puffy.

Too fucking much.

Your jaw goes slack and sounds leave you freely, moaning and wailing without restraint.

You dig your fingernails into Johnny’s back, clawing him up like a scratching post, and he fucking loves it.

He fucks you faster, harder, twists your nipples almost meanly and bites down on your neck.

That bit of pain sends you hurtling over the edge, coming so hard it feels like the air is punched from your lungs.

Your pussy clamps tight around Johnny, gripping him tight like you never want him to leave. His hips stutter and he curses, nearing his own end.

“Oh- fuck-!”

He slams into you one last time before spilling his hot load deep inside you, filling you up.

He collapses on top of you, squishing you with his weight just long enough to catch his breath before shifting to let you breathe better.

The two of you lay quiet for a moment, too busy panting to try and speak.

Johnny gets his breath back first, propping himself back up on his elbows. He pulls out slowly, hissing when your cunt squeezes him again.

He looks down at you, spent and sleepy, and smiles again.

“Got yer head nice an’ empty now,” he says, his voice full of mirth.

Johnny slips out of the room, returning with some ice water and a damp washcloth.

He cleans you up, gives you sips of the cold water, and then crawls into bed with you.

“See?” He murmurs, his own voice turning rough with sleepiness.

“Ye belong with me.”

[absolutebl]

hi abl! I'm a huge fan of korean and japanese bl dramas and have devoured a bunch of them, but then I decided I wanted to try a thai drama and started lovely writer on a friend's recommendation. I only made it halfway through the first episode! it felt so overacted and oh my god the SOUND EFFECTS. they were driving me CRAZY. I know that's a common problem with thai bl, but I don't want to give up yet. any recs of more "toned down" shows for me to try? happy endings only, please! my favorite k/jbl series are semantic error, cherry magic, and love mate, if that helps! thanks so much!!!

Oh for sure, happy to help. I thought I already answered this one somewhere. Lemme check spreadsheet of doom...

Looks like not, so here we go.

10 Great Thai BLs with no (or few) BAD Sound Effects

Additional criteria: toned down, HEA, comps = Semantic Error, Cherry Magic, Love Mate (so you don't need high heat, slow burn is okay, and a little aggressive seme is fine too, got it!)

NOTE: If the GMMTV show is no long on YouTube it is likely on Viki or iQIYI.

1 A Tale of Thousand Stars

2021 GMMTV

With great casting and cinematography this drama nods at BL tropes but manages to elevate them (and itself) with a strong mature story concept about a spoiled rich kid who gets a heart transplant and becomes a teacher it order to pay out survivor’s guilt. On the way he falls in love with a local park ranger and contends with his own classism and escapist tendencies. Everyone seemed to perfectly suit their roles and GMMTV made the most out of its stable. Combined with excellent production (and post production) values, 1000 Stars is without question GMMTV’s most mature, charming, and smart BL series. I think it should go down as one of the top BLs of all time. I feel safe recommending this one to friends and non BL watchers.

I chose this first for you because it has no sound effects and a mature concept, it's very very classy. But it is a SLOW burn.

2 Cherry Magic

2024 GMMTV grey (sadly, with any luck Viki will eventually pick this up, but...)

A soft charming warm hug of a show about crushes and mind reading and self worth that really worked for me. With no-fuss execution from a consummate team (at GMMTV) and an OG lead pair (proving why they remain eternal and deserve to grow up).

Look, here’s the thing, Cherry Magic is a great Thai BL in its own right - not comparing it to any other iteration. But even when I do compare (and I've seen all the Cherries and read the manga) it stands strong. I, personally, like the Thai BL slightly better than the Japanese live action yaoi, but I think that’s because I just really enjoy Thai BL's style and I LOVE TayNew. Also all the kissing was both present and better in this version. As it should be from Thailand.

Now, even if your heart is lost to the original live action yaoi, this is a good way to understand what Thailand can do, and why it is the undisputed king of BL. But you do need to understand that is is a different take, an adaptation, if you will.

3 Bad Buddy

2022 GMMTV

This was GMMTV’s flagship BL and it started 2022 on a BANG (okay no actual banging but you know what I mean), starring heavy hitters Ohm & Nanon in a pitch perfect university Romeo & Romeo masterpiece that will give you domesticity meets pain whiplash throughout and jet lag at the end. Some of the friendship and family dynamics are overworked, but it has great production values, killer acting, and some conscious effort to correct for half a decade of Thai BL’s anti-queer mistakes.

This is the enemies to lovers BL to end all BLs. I chose it for you because of your love for Semantic Error, this is in a similar vein.

4 My Ride

2022 Gaga

Thai BL grew up with this pulp (the first ever to make my end of year top 10). It’s a truly lovely and special little show featuring the extremely rare pairing of sunshine/sunshine (AKA a cinnamon roll couple) plus mature explorations of relationships using one of the softest, sweetest and most innocent friends to lovers vehicles. Kindly, overworked doctor meets broken-hearted motorcycle taxi driver in an “other side of the tracks” slow burn romance. The support cast is excellent, making for great friendship groups and family dynamics. With honest queer rep that adds to, but doesn’t impede, the story, and genuine conversation about the nature of class, wealth, and classism, not to mention communication, honesty, and respect for boundaries, you can’t go wrong with this show. In other news, I am a sucker for a single dimple.

This is one of my "under appreciated gems" and if you can forgive it some of it's low production roughness I think you'll like the grit that comes with the sweet.

5 Step By Step

2023 Gaga & Viki

This was Thailand’s answer to KBL The New Employee, and everything I loved about that show I loved about this one. This office romance between a stern boss and sweet subordinate felt more authentic to cubical work than previous Thai BLs of this ilk. That authenticity added tension to the narrative and its characters' development (how novel). I also really enjoyed the charming side characters and the brothers' relationship to each other (although I could have done without that brother's side BL).

I chose this one specifically because of your Love Mate call out, although different dynamic.

6 ThamePo

2025 GMMTV YouTube (for now, I think this will move to a pay-to-play platform soon tho)

The boyband idol romance I've been waiting for from Korea, only Thailand did it instead. Quintessentially Thai and very GMMTV with good production values, great chemistry, and a solid support cast. It also was a hung romance mostly driven by external conflict and a found family reunion trope so I didn’t mind (too much) when that romance thread felt secondary. I loved it (except, of course, the singing).

I chose this because the visuals are on point (and your KBL addiction can only be explained in part through shallowness - solidarity) but also it's one of the better more recent BLs to fulfill your criteria. You want to know what Thai Bl is best at right now? This, this is it.

7 Wandee Goodday

2024 GMMTV

A charming modern Thai BL about a doctor and a boxer who start as a one night stand and then fall in love. Great rep for everything from Muay Thai, to safe sex, to FUN sex, to ace, to bisexuality, to smiley kisses, to the first legal gay wedding in a Thai BL. It’s a delight and I enjoyed (almost) every single moment of it. Without question its best traits are active positive representations of green flag boys, communication, and grown-up relationships but the chemistry is on point too.

Highly recommended as one of 2024's best pick-me-ups. Turn off your brain this is just a fun show. In fact, I think it might be time for a rewatch.

8 The Heart Killers

2025 GMMTV (iQIYI & Viki)

Jojo directs this action romcom about assassin brothers meets tattoo artist ex-booster & very flirty mechanic conmen. I dithered over how to rate this. It felt like an 8 show wearing a 9’s britches. There were dropped threads, forgotten characters, and unfinished plot lines even with a particularly long run time. And, for me, it doesn’t have significant rewatch potential. But it was fun (when one applies no expectations or logic) and I enjoyed the wildly unhinged relationships and, weirdly, music.

I mean nobody claimed that we needed Taming of the Shrew only with gay Thai hitman, but we really needed it. And no one asked for Petruchio as the gayest brat ever to strut his perfect skin and copped-top across our screen, and yet we loved him for it. Sure it didn’t make sense, was utterly absurd, but it was terribly earnest and sexy about it. In the end this goes hand-in-hand with all these other absurd crime pieces we’ve been getting since KinnPorsche, and frankly I like this one the best of the lot.

I'm not sure how you'll like this, it's a wildy soapy ride, and a bit EXTRA but the chemistry THE CHEMISTRY. Still, no skin if you drop it for reasons other than sound effects.

9 Your Sky

2025 iQIYI

As pulps go this is right up there with my favorite if all time, My Ride, but for different less complex reasons. This is a relatively simple yet endearingly old school story of a fake relationship between a sunshine sweetie and an older reserved rich kid who slowly fall in love. It's soft gentle low stakes leans on everything I love best about Thai BL. It’s a warm fuzzy robe of a show that will not hurt you.

Because you're used to shorter form BL you may find this slow, but that's okay. Get yourself a tropical drink or a bowl of ice cream and just... relax, enjoy. It'll all be alright in the end.

10 We Are

2024 iQIYI

I loved show, but it's last on this list for... reasons.

It was slow to find its stride (I didn’t get into it until ep 6) but I’m so glad I gave it a chance. It’s a soft ensemble piece with multiple couples (you will be introduced to most of GMMTVs pairs) and very little plot, but I didn’t care because it’s not trying to be anything more substantial. Essentially this was a series of vignettes covering one year of uni for a queer friendship group finding love, new friends, and laughter. Did it blow my mind? No. But it left me smiling and made me belly laugh quite a bit.

This one may be too MUCH much Thai BL muchness for you. So deifnately see if any of the others work first, especially Your Sky. This is more in that vein than others.

If those last 2 do end up working for you then you might also try Oxygen (2020 YouTube). Oxygen uses every BL trope in the playbook for one of the gentlest lowest angst BLs ever made. It’s a hyung romance (younger boy courts older boy) but very very earnest about it. Am I biased? Sure. This is probably one of my biggest comfort watches. But no one else ever seems to love it as much as I do.

I Thought About it But...

Okay so I took high concept and genre off the table because you didn't mention anything like that but I tend to rate those kinds of shows highly and it's one of Thailand's strengths in the BL sphere these days. So these are BLs I would ordinarily recommend but they are not JUST BL.

Until We Meet Again (YouTube) - my #1 top favorite Thai BL (the only one to have a 10/10 from me). Occasionally my all time most favorite of them all. May be a big dark for you, but if you could take The 8th Sense than you might like this.

Century of Love (Gaga) - If you don't mind some time travel-esk genre in your BL you might enjoy this one.

He's Coming to Me (YouTube) - this one has a strong paranormal element, but it is great. Boy and ghost boy fall in love, must solve ghost’s murder.

I Feel You Linger in the Air (grey) - an exquisite BL, from filming techniques to narrative framework (much like Until We Meet Again). But the ending is not entirely happy.

La Pluie (Viki ) - This BL takes to task the fated mates trope and what it means to have love chained intimately to predestination.

The Sign (YouTube) - This show is the opposite of toned down, it's literally everything (except straight) all at once. It's BL, queer, band of brothers, romcom, erotica, PNR, fated mates, police procedural, fantasy, mystery, suspense, and slasher. It’s the king of genre mash-up chaos. Sure, it's madness but there is genius in it. Was it a crazy unhinged mess +1 roll for damage? Yes. Yes it was. Did it manage to hold all those tangled threads together? No it did not. Was it also a charming, sexy, engaging, non-stop piece of entertainment? Sure thing. Is it perfect? No. But it was balls to the wall FUN. Emphasis on balls.

Other's that you might like but I'm not confident on because of your comps and "toned down" preferences.

Laws of Attraction (iQIYI)

Triggers for violence, beatings, death and torture depicted on screen. This is a great gay suspense thriller with several solid couples, fun plot, killer characters, queer rep, and a happy ending. It is, however, not at all toned down. Charn may be my favorite lead character in all BL. However, this show is not entirely BL, more on the fringe, like Manner of Death.

My School President (GMMTV)

You didn't name any high school BL and I can't remember but this may have a few sound effects and it gets and little frantic and angsty. GMMTV gave us a classic high school set Thai BL with tropes like messy boys singing their feelings. Who let my BL be this wholesome and funny? This show was fantastic, it’s only flaw was the singing (and that’s my baggage). One of my favourite GMMTV BL offerings of all time. And yes, I've watched them ALL. But you have to like high school angst.

Not Me (GMMTV)

How do you say antidisestablishmentarianism in Thai? + hot boys kissing who probably shouldn't be and convoluted soap opera identical twins plot... someone at GMMTV thought it made sense, we just here for the tattoos and the the Pride scene. GMMTV gave us a dark disestablishment narrative (in a time of civil unrest) with established queer award-winning director Anucha and starring the biggest guns of BL, OffGun and THIS WAS AN AMAZING THING to get to experience at the time - nerve racking but remarkable. But was it ACTUALLY BL? It certainly has a lot of BL elements, but in the end romance was not what this show was about, or even what it was genuinely trying to be as a performance piece. Still a remarkable moment in Thai cinema, certainly worth your time. Don’t worry, it all ends happily.

I gotta say I feel the same way about Lovely Writer. I think I dinged it a whole point because of those sound effects. (And I actually really loved that show.) The bad effects slow (but never stop) in the second half, but it is possibly one of the worst offenders. And there are A LOT of offenders.

Also here's me trying to explain why those sound effects.

(source)

[kickbutts-singsongs]

I’ve had some thoughts about Izuku and his actions in the post-canon chapter that I haven’t known how to voice until this very moment so uh I just wanted to say that I actually saw myself in him and his decisions and here’s why:

(warning: manga spoilers and minor traumadumping)

I just recently turned 20 years old and I’ve been noticing that life feels a whole lot clearer now that I’m out of my crazy house (for the most part) and attending college, but I didn’t realize just how murky and foggy everything had felt up until now.

Like seriously looking back on it, I felt like my head was underwater and I was in a fishtank watching everyone pass me by. Some people would come up to the glass and reach out, but I didn’t really reach back bc I just assumed that since there was glass I wouldn’t be able to truly connect. Instead I kind of acted the best and brightest that I could, almost like I was performing tricks for them, in the hopes that they’d at least stick around, but I didn’t think I’d be anything more than a passing interest to them. But that was okay because I liked seeing the people and it was enough for me, I’d take what I could get.

Also some context: I was homeschooled as a kid and was a pretty isolated child whose only real connection to anyone was with her younger sister (which may or may not have been an unhealthy relationship) so when I finally attended high school, I went through those years thinking that everyone who ever met me wouldn’t really like me or want to stay connected bc if my own lil sis didn’t then who would? And though I did make friends, and they def reached out and touched the glass, I felt like I was this intangible thing that they would soon move on from and forget, once again leaving me alone in the water

Last year, someone came up to my tank and punched straight through the glass

And holy fuckin smokes everything changed

I have this dear friend that I’ve known for quite a long time (6 years now), but I never in a million years would’ve guessed that I had any real impact on her bc she was so well-liked and was surrounded by so many great people. I was just me.

But one night, she told me that I was her best friend.

Did I cry? Uh huh big time

But also?? My entire worldview changed????

Cuz WHAT DO YOU MEAN IM SPECIAL ENOUGH TO YOU FOR YOU TO DECLARE THAT OUT OF EVERYONE YOU KNOW, I AM YOUR BEST FRIEND

Basically, since then I have never felt more alive, and now I’ve decided that my days of being a wallflower to everyone I know and love are fuckin OVER

IM BEING PRESENT AND ATTENTIVE AND INSERTING MYSELF INTO PEOPLES LIVES BC THEY WANT ME IN THEM BITCHESSSSSS

“Wow, Song, congrats on the epiphany? I guess? What does that have to do with Izuku??”

Great question my friend

In my humble and lightly biased opinion, Izuku grew up without a bunch of self-worth and didn’t think very highly of himself. He also didn’t grow up with very many (healthy) friendships, and when he finally attended UA, he got his first dose of seeing people actually reaching out to him

But I think he was stuck in a daze of “Wow they really wanna be my friend? That’s crazy cuz they’re so cool and I’m just. Me.” <- similar to how I acted in hs.

And after all the ✨traumatizing shit✨ he went thru up until the end of the series, I think it’d be understandable if his life felt a bit foggy and murky, like he was existing but not truly living (esp if he never got a therapist or smth, but I sincerely hope he did) and he didn’t feel like he had much of an impact on the lives of his friends in hs other than his heroics (esp after he lost his quirk)

So my guess is that he just coexisted with everyone, counted his blessings, and then let everyone go after they graduated. It wouldn’t surprise me if the only reason he and Katsuki are as comfortable as they are in the epilogue is bc Katsuki was the one making efforts to reach out to Izuku for the past eight years, but again that’s my projections ashajkajaka

Anyways SO when it comes to the point where Katsuki’s driving and tells Izuku “if you treat everyone like they’re special to you, then no one actually is” I was shook to my core because that’s how I’d been living my life (and I still was at that point) so when I saw a lot of people criticizing Izuku for his seemingly uncaring behavior in rejecting Katsuki’s vague agency proposal, I couldn’t help but feel empathy for my boy bc I prob would’ve said and done the exact same thing. I don’t think I would’ve understood the importance of such an ask, or the impact I would’ve had if I’d said no.

And further on, when Izuku looks at Uraraka, someone who was a dear friend of his in high school, and notices that they never talk anymore and grew apart (partially bc he let that happen), he hears Katsuki’s words in his head and realizes that he’s right, and that Uraraka is someone that is special to him, actually special to him, and that he wants to rebuild that connection and put work in to keep in touch.

But I don’t think that means that that’s the end.

I think Uraraka is just the beginning.

My theory (my hope) is that he’ll start to look around at the people in his life (or currently out of his life) and allow himself to actually be in their lives again, to purposefully insert himself back in. To reach out, to connect. He’ll start being more aware of how his life actually impacts others, and how his life has meaning outside of doing things just to help people.

(And maybe he’ll re-evaluate how much he actually cares about a certain someone and notice how much effort they actually put into their relationship and wonder if they’re really just a friend to him but that’s my shipper heart alskllaksk)

Anyways uh I guess I had been neglecting my ‘thinking about Izuku’ duties for a sec so now I’ve just word-vomited a small essay that’s probably mildly incomprehensible but the point is that I care and maybe someone else will too so if u got this far thanks for reading 🫡

[kidsnextdoor-doodles]

Explaining Numbuh 98/Quinn O’Connor

Back when I made Quinn in November of 2022, it was because I had the idea/plan to make a comic or fanfic about Numbuh 86’s past in the Decom squad. At first his only role was to be the Head of Decom before 86, but as I made him I ended up liking and fledging him out more. He ended up becoming a pretty major character in that story.

I’ve never really talked about Quinn’s lore because I always had the idea that I’d tell the story eventually…

Well, it’s now 2025, there’s no comic or fanfic, and I have enough self-awareness to know that the chances of me getting to write it are pretty low. So instead- here’s a really-very long post about Numbuh 98!! (and trust me, it's long-long)

(This is pretty headcanon heavy, which shouldn't be a surprise since this is about an OC. But still heads up about that)

Pre KND-to-Cadet era

Quinn is an only child, raised by his mother and father. There’s also his ‘uncle’ (who’s not actually his uncle it’s just his dad’s long time friend who freeloads in their living room). Quinn’s parents own a cafe, which is a general hotspot for kids, being one of the only places in town that allows them in that isn’t some sort of kid/family restaurant with weird mascots. Because of this, Quinn has always been pretty popular among his peers. Quinn was a naturally social kid who showed signs of maturity that was a bit above the maturity of his peers. He was also a very intelligent child, being top of most of his classes. His parents were proud of him, but they never treated their child like he was anything special. Because he was just, well, a child. Sure, they saw there could be potential for him, but they never gave him any extra affirmation outside of expectation.

Quinn, naturally, grew frustrated that his parents didn’t seem to see what others did. So he instead sought validation he should've gotten from his parents from everyone else. He tried extra hard in school and made sure all his teachers liked him. He was extra friendly to his classmates and always stood up for them. And one day, when he stood up to a bully, another kid suggested he should join the Kids Next Door.

Quinn was readily accepted into the KND Cadet program, having several other people’s accounts to back up his potential. And it wasn’t for nothing. Quinn excelled at the Cadet training. The only other cadet who was at his level was Chad Dickson. This was the beginning of their ‘friendship’, which was more like a quiet rivalry.

Soon, Quinn graduated the Cadet program and became an official KND operative; Numbuh 98.

Early Operative-Becoming a Decom Operative

Before joining the Decom squad, Numbuh 98 bounced around a lot. Officially, he was infantry, but that job wasn’t always needed so, like other infantry operatives, he’d take on other roles if needed. Every now and then, he’d hear about the Decommissioning Squad, and sometimes he’d attend a 13th birthday/decommissioning. He was never really friends with the kids who got decommissioned, per se, but he was a generally well-liked guy so kids kept inviting him.

The Decom squad had sort of a reputation in the KND. Not a lot of kids are too thrilled about hanging out with other kids who will eventually erase their and their friends' memories. This caused the Decom Operatives to become wildly disliked around the organisation, which in turn lead to the consensus that only kids no one likes join the Decom squad. Whether or not that's necessarily true doesn't matter here, what matters is that was the general consensus and reputation that the Decommissioning Squad had.

Numbuh 98 was aware of this reputation, but he himself never felt it was accurate. He was never close enough to another kid to get terribly upset when they were decommissioned, so he never really understood what the big deal was. They were just doing their jobs- was his opinion. In fact, he felt kind of bad for the Decom Squad for the reputation they had. So, he had the idea that if he, a well-liked kid, joined the Decom Squad, he could sway public opinion about it.

And that's what he did. A sector that doesn't get operatives lining at their door to join is bound to be pretty eager to accept one when they do come. So, Numbuh 98 became a Decommissioning Operative.

Becoming the Head of Decom

Numbuh 98's time before becoming the Head of Decom was remarkably linear. He was the best performing operative so he went up the ranks relatively fast. It was also notable for how he sought to change the perception of the Decommissioning Squad. He had always been charismatic and because of this, people started to chill out a bit about the Decom Squad.

His relationship with the Head of Decom of the time was noteworthy for being the first time Numbuh 98 had formed a bond with someone outside of just being friendly acquaintances. They saw how hard Numbuh 98 was trying and rewarded him, telling him that he was special, that we was above the rest. When Numbuh 98 had to decommission them, it was the first time he felt upset about doing it.

Head of Decom era

Numbuh 98 became the Head of Decom after decommissioning the last. During his time as the Head of Decom saw a large growth in success for the Squad. There was fewer escapees. Numbuh 98 credited this success to himself entirely, though he never said it out loud. He was also seeing the benefits of being some one who was high-ranking in the KND. Around this time is when he'd cross paths with Numbuh 274 again. The two had seen each other on and off again since their cadet days but now that they were both high-ranking operatives, they started to see each other more. Numbuh 274 was quickly becoming the darling of the KND, being Numbuh 100's second-in-command and gaining the reputation of being the best there is. Numbuh 98 felt a pang of jealousy every time he heard someone speak so highly of Numbuh 274, but still he kept his feelings hidden, in order to not break the perception others had of him.

Eventually, he'd meet Numbuh 86. He'd seen her before, when he'd go down to the Medic Centre, but he'd never had the chance to talk to her. Not that he really wanted to anyways, she was just a nurse. But he heard rumours of 'something' that caused Numbuh 86 to get kicked out of the Medical Branch. Numbuh 98 was never one to openly humour rumours, but this one caught his attention. The rumour painted quite the picture, that Numbuh 86 was unruly and rude, unfit for teamwork, etc. and it gave Numbuh 98 the bearings for his latest 'project'; to help a fellow kid who was clearly troubled. He approached Numbuh 86 and offered her a place in the Decommissioning Squad and after some consideration, she said yes.

Numbuh 98 say great potential in Numbuh 86 and went out of his way to train her personally. Others would say he was playing favourites, which wouldn't be a total lie. He would self-admit that he gave Numbuh 86 special treatment, but he'd say it was because he wanted to secure a worthy second-in-command once it was his time to go. That may be what he believed himself, but the full truth was that he quickly grew very fond of Numbuh 86, to the point of almost seeing her as 'little sister' of sorts. What Numbuh 98 wouldn't admit is that he might not be the best teacher out there. Not because of anything skill related, he was an excellent fighter and knew how to teach that to Numbuh 86. What his problem was is that he let his own issues cloud his judgement and would often enable Numbuh 86's worst traits, encouraging her to be more aggressive, to focus more on her work than her relationships.

Two major points during Numbuh 98's time as Head of Decom would be the 13th birthdays of Numbuh 100 and Numbuh 11. With Numbuh 100 he was the one to decommission him. Numbuh 100 had chosen to step down, to not continue working as a TND agent. When he decommissioned Numbuh 100, Numbuh 98 started to fully realise the passage of time and how he was getting older. He didn't notice at the time, but that planted a little seed in his mind that would soon cause his downfall. With Numbuh 11/Cree, she was one of the few who managed to escape him. This royally pissed of Numbuh 98, that who he saw as just a regular field operative could outsmart him. It made him resolve to try even harder, to prove himself.

Leading up to his 13th

The days leading up to Numbuh 98's 13th birthday could be considered the worst days of his career as a KND operative. Numbuh 98 knew of the TND, though he never had any information or contact with them outside of them just existing. For a while, Numbuh 98 had been growing bitter that he had never been offered a higher up position in global command and, with his 13th birthday approaching, he was starting to panic about not hearing anything about joining the TND.

The day before his 13th birthday, Numbuh 98 went to talk to the Supreme Leader Numbuh 274. He tried to remain calm and seem unbothered, simply asking Numbuh 274 if there was a chance he'd be accepted into the TND. Numbuh 274 told him that no, he hadn't been. As soon as those words left Numbuh 274's mouth, Numbuh 98's brain stopped. Because despite all his efforts, he still wasn't given the validation he wanted, he still wasn't good enough to be considered special. He lashed out, which caught Numbuh 274 incredibly off-guard. Numbuh 98 started becoming irrational, throwing out claims of jealousy and bitterness towards Numbuh 274, and was visibly getting agitated. Had no one else heard the commotion, Numbuh 274 could only wonder what Numbuh 98 would've done. Luckily, people did hear, and other operatives came in to see what was going on. Numbuh 98, seeing that people's attention was now on him, quickly forced himself to calm down and apologise, saying it was just a lapse in judgement for him. The last thing Numbuh 274 said before Numbuh 98 left was to not do anything stupid.

That night of his 13th birthday, after the Decom squad had rounded up all the turned-teenagers that day, Numbuh 98 insisted he be left alone to clean up, and that everyone else could leave. Alone in the decommissioning chambers, Numbuh 98 began to spiral. He had spent all this time, trying to prove himself, and it wasn't for nothing right? He had a reputation of being the most liked Head of Decom the KND ever had. So why wasn't he good enough? He came to the conclusion that no, he was good enough, he was special, and that's why they wouldn't promote him or let him in the TND, that they felt threatened by him. There, he decided, he did not deserve to get his memory erased. So, he began tampering with the decommissioning machine, in hopes of having it be faulty long enough so that it wouldn't erase his memories, at least not fully. He didn't care if it risked messing with any other decommissionings that happened that day, he was too caught up in his own thoughts.

Luckily, he left the door unlocked, and Numbuh 86 came back in. She had come back to see if he had left yet, and was shocked and appalled at what he was doing. Numbuh 98, having been caught, was snapped out of his spiralling thoughts. He tried to save face, and tried to convince Numbuh 86 what he was doing was a good idea. Numbuh 86, however, wasn't buying it. She held up her MUSKET and told Numbuh 98 that he was going to leave and she was going to fix the machine. Numbuh 98 agreed, but had one more request; that Numbuh 86 didn't tell anyone about this. If she did, he threatened to runaway from decommissioning entirely. So, Numbuh 86 agreed.

On his 13th birthday, Numbuh 98 tried hard to keep up his facade, though for once it wasn't working. No one, however, was any wise to the true reason he was upset and simply conclude it was because he turned 13. He had one last birthday party and official selected Numbuh 86 as the new Head of Decom. And then, he was decommissioned.

Post being Decommissioned/being a teenager

After being decommissioned, there was a noticeable in Quinn's personality. He was no longer as charming and sociable as he was as a child. Instead, he felt a inner bitterness and apathy to everyone around him.

Quinn soon came to learn about the Teen Ninjas, but for some reason he was never offered to join them. Surprise surprise, not a lot of teens are thrilled with the idea of working with the guy who tried to erase their memories, even if he doesn't remember himself. Quinn was fine with it, however. The idea of fighting against kids didn't appeal to him, he didn't see kids as worth the effort.

Eventually, Quinn would befriend three other guys and they'd start up their garage band. Quinn's band would often come into conflicts with Sector V due to them being general nuisances and stuff. Quinn would also get a girlfriend! Though, no one would be quick to claim he was a good boyfriend...

-

And that's all, basically. I might go in depth with his specific relationships with other characters, especially ones that weren't mentioned here. But for now, that's all!!

[galaxymagitech]

Let me throw out Steph/Cass for the ask game 👀

Ship Ask Game

Oooo okay. So I recently went through a “I need to decide what to think” crisis with them due to the whole WFA mess. But the conclusion: Yeah, I ship it. I love them.

1. What made you ship it? This ship kinda crept up on me, because it just kept appearing as a side pairing. And then when I actually started going deeper into the ship…all I can say is “look at them.”

They are the epitome of “there is no platonic explanation for this.”

When characters are this codependent and crazy about each other, I normally go for queerplatonic shipping over romantic shipping, but…given all the romantic tropes they accidentally do, and how they constantly look like they’re about to kiss? Yeah, I had to go with a romantic interpretation.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship? They are unhinged about each other. So unhinged. I love that for them. I do genuinely think they could be soulmates. I also really like them from the perspective of Cass having a disability—especially one that shares elements with some real-world developmental disabilities—and being a treated as an equal not just on the battlefield or in a friendship but in romance as well. Even when portrayals are otherwise not infantilizing, people with disabilities are often treated as incapable of romance or as not being able to consent, and as an autistic person, I hate that. Cass can have difficulties with language, she can have a disability, and she can be a full adult who is treated like one in every way by those around her. So that potential there is one of my favorite things about the ship.

They’re also just really sweet. I think they bolster each other’s confidence and support each other. If it’s them against the world, they’d win. It’s heartwarming, in my opinion.

And I think the way they act around each other and the way they view each other is very fertile ground for character analysis. They are each other’s “special person,” so what does that mean to each of them individually—and their relationship as a whole?

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? Neither of them is The Caretaker/Responsible One/Emotionally Competent One/Peacemaker/whatever in their relationship, and putting them into those roles does them a disservice. They take care of each other. They both have their moments of emotional competency and incompetency. They’re both messy. They both make mistakes. Sometimes they both make mistakes at the same time. But in my opinion, the dynamics of their relationships have to be highly fluid. They both take on different, and sometimes conflicting, roles at different times.

[seenoversundown]

Insidious : Eight

Jake Kiszka x Rory (Fem OC)

Warnings: 18+ Smut, some cute banter, fluff, intrusive and suggestive thoughts, pet names, flirting kind of if you squint really, smut warning time- look away now if you don’t wanna see it- masturbation, suggestive language, slight praise kink, special pet names.

Word Count: 2.9k

Author's Note: grab a cold bev and a sweat towel, babes! 🤭

Albuquerque, New Mexico | Day 2 | Show #2

I spent the bulk of the day running around to make sure everything was ready for the show tonight. Choosing to not stay out was probably for the best, considering how busy I ended up being today. 

Once I get the rest of my shit back onto the bus since we’re leaving after the show tonight, I run into the bathroom to touch up my makeup real quick before it’s time to go inside the venue. 

“You’re beautiful enough!” Josh sings as he wanders through the bus. 

I laugh, turning my head to holler back, “My husband could be in there, ya know!” 

“And he should love you regardless of your appearance!” He hollers back. 

I will say, despite the situation the other night, I do really enjoy my friendship with Josh. I haven’t been ready to bring it up to him yet, but I wish he had been the one to tell me what happened. 

Obviously, Jake was really the one who handled it, which I still don’t know what happened fully and frankly, I don’t think I want to know. But Josh was right there when I woke up and he could have easily told me what was going on. Maybe I’m overthinking it, but I digress. 

We definitely had fun together and I’m trying to focus on that. Even the other boys have lightened up toward me and it's a nice feeling like I’m just part of the group. Hoping that it sticks throughout the tour, but I can’t imagine anything that would really make me question them. 

“You ready to go inside?” Sam asks, leant against the doorframe as I’m dropping my mascara back into my bag. 

I smile at him as he gestures for me to walk past, “Now, I am.”

Once they’re all happy and situated, I decide to go watch the band that’s on for a few. I figured if we’re gonna be doing this for a while, I may as well go listen to the rest of them too. Plus, having the ability to stand side stage, rather than out front, I’ll take any opportunity for that. 

There was always something about live music that truly just felt different to me. Getting to watch everyone on stage having the time of their lives and the crowd being just as into it. I always felt really lucky that I managed to get into the industry and now I get to witness it all the time. 

“Hey,” being whispered close to my ear making me jump. My head whips to the side, seeing Jake laugh as he stands next to me. 

I lean over closer to him, “Warn me next time, Jesus christ.” 

We both stand there for a few minutes just watching them, until I have questions for him. Leaning over to ask them where he can actually hear me. He returns the gesture so he can answer the question, but his hand sitting on my lower back had me a little distracted. Not that I necessarily wanted him to touch me, but I’m definitely a physical person and it’s been a while since I.. anyway. 

He pulls me out of the way of someone, and I knew it meant nothing, but the way he left his hands on me for a split second longer than he had to, my stomach was turning. I need to calm down, good lord. 

The band starts their last song of their set and I feel an arm plop down over my shoulders, glancing over to see Sam smiling at me. I don’t know why him hanging on me doesn’t give me the same feeling but, I’m not going to think that hard about it right now. It’ll only make things worse. 

“I’m heading back,” Jake says close to my ear and I just glance over at him and nod. Leaving me there with Sam, who is just happily vibing to this bands closing song. He pulls me with him as the set ends, so we can get out of the way before they start swapping out gear. 

Oddly enough, all the boys were in an eerily good mood today, but if we’re being honest, I wasn’t going to question it. Something must have happened at the bar for them to all be like this and that is a story for another time. I’m just grateful that nobody seems angry or needing me to really organize them at all now that we’re here. 

I follow them as they walk out for their set, sitting off to the side as they walk on stage. It’s still wild to me that Josh can do what he does on stage, considering what a bundle of joy he is off stage. 

The show today felt a bit better, and I don’t know if it was the good mood they all were in or if the crowd was better or maybe I was less nervous this time since it wasn’t the first show anymore. Regardless, it was more fun to watch them this time. 

They’re all pretty energetic on stage which definitely helps, and I know that it gets the attention of people in the crowd for sure. It makes me laugh when they acknowledge me off stage though, even if nobody else can see who they’re looking at. But watching the way Sam would point his bass at me while playing and then laugh, he really was a precious man. So carefree and goofy when he wanted to be, it was admirable for sure. 

Danny was way too locked in for him to be looking over, but the twins definitely took their turns. Josh walking closer to me, but I was hidden enough that the crowd wouldn’t know who he was screaming to. The big smile on his face as he lets out these foul sounds is hysterical to me. Making dumb faces as he faces me and then clocks back in when he turns back to the crowd, it’s like i’m getting my own personal show really. 

Jake would occasionally walk back to his amps and usually that is when he would either mouth something to me or widen his eyes, never anything crazy. I found myself watching him intently when he would go back though because he kept a few things sitting on his amp. But, mostly because he would pull up the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face quickly and just the glimpse of his hip tattoos would make my mouth run dry. It’s a shame he’s as hot as he is, really. Or I’d watch him drink from the cup he had sitting on the floor, and just being able to see his jaw flex while he did was really doing a number on me. 

I hadn’t realized how long I had been watching them when I recognize the song they started. Well, I may as well stay for the last song then. Tonight’s show definitely made me more excited for the rest of tour, which is a relief after the first few days. 

Joining them as they leave the stage, following them back to the greenroom to grab all their stuff before we had to pile back into the bus again. Rowdy as hell, they are all having a good time as they cool off for a minute before we get out of here. 

“Where are we going boys?” Danny hollers. 

A jumbled response from a handful of them, some of the opening band members also joined us in there. Hard to believe any of them actually formed a plan, but they must have with the way they all rotated through the showers and got dressed again. 

Being one of a few women in the back stage area, it was absolutely wild to be surrounded by all these musicians. Most of them half dressed and just wandering about. A handful of the girlfriends had joined them backstage and I was lucky enough to say ‘hello’ to them finally, and they all seemed sweet– which is great for me, because I’ll have more people to talk to at shows. Thank god. 

“Are you gonna come with us, love?” Josh asks me as we walk out of the venue finally. 

I shake my head, telling him, “I think I’m gonna pass tonight. Just kind of want to lay in my bunk for a bit before all of you pile in there.” 

He laughs at me for a second, but then admits, “We are a bit rowdy sometimes. I don’t blame you, get some rest!” 

I walk over to our bus, and our driver is so sweet. Saying my nightly ‘hello’s to him as I get on. Chatting with him for a minute about his day, he really was such a good dude. Sam sneaking past me to grab something from the back before he quickly comes back up.

“Josh said you’re staying here?” He asks, a small pout on his face. 

I breathe out, “Yeah, I’m taking the night off from drinking, I think.” 

“Okaaay! Well, enjoy your nap then!” 

The driver looks over at me, “You’re staying here?” 

“Mhm,” I hum out. Realizing that he probably takes advantage of this time if the boys want to go out for a bit. “Oh, don’t let me stop you. Feel free to do whatever, I just want to lay down anyway.” 

“Works for me,” he lets out. Holding up some over the ear headphones and shaking them, “I will just watch my movie with these so I don’t bug ya!” 

I chuckle to myself, “Perfect.” 

Laying in my little bunk felt so good tonight. Something about how small it was just made it more comforting to me. I scrolled on my phone for a bit, just one of my headphones in so I could hear if anything happened. I did hear the doors open and close a few times, with footsteps in there. But the bus had been quiet for a while and all I could hear was the occasional quiet laugh from the driver, which had slowly turned into light snores. He really is such a cute older man.  Deciding I should put on a random playlist that spotify suggested, trying to give myself something to focus on that wasn’t his snoring. 

My mind wandered as I lie there, thinking about the way Jake’s hands were on me earlier today. Remembering the first night I met him and how smooth he was, god if only Georgia hadn’t knocked. I hadn’t been touched by a man for a while before that night and I haven’t since then either. 

The way he looked on stage, sweating and the facial expressions he would make while he was playing. And lord, don’t get me started on how nice his hands are– made my knees weak to watch him. But that could have been a combination of not getting laid for a while. 

Either way, as I lie here and he floods my mind, I reluctantly slip my hand under the waistband of my shorts. Turning my music down so I can hardly hear it, but I can definitely hear if anybody is trying to come onto the bus. Once I hear another snore from the driver, I let my hand wander down. 

Lightly running my fingers over my clit, which barely even touching it, I was fighting a moan. Taking a deep breath in as I finally add a little pressure, slowly and gently playing with it. The thought of Jake that night in the bathroom plays in my mind. The way he was so gentle to hold my leg as he cleaned me off but then pulling me off the counter with my legs wrapped around his waist. I would have let him do whatever he wanted. It’s like I can almost feel how soft his lips were against mine, the feeling spreading through my body as I sit on that thought. 

My hand adding a bit more pressure now, my throat letting a quiet ‘mmm’ slip out. But thankfully, the sound of a light snore still graces my ear right after so I know it’s safe. Letting my mind wander back to Jake, curious of what would have happened if we didn’t get interrupted. Those hands all over me and sliding into my shorts, I can’t help myself when another moan comes out, a bit louder this time. My eyes shut tightly as I lie, wishing I hadn’t played so hard to get that night so I could be day dreaming about so much more. 

Every moment feels better and better, fighting moaning too loud but I had to let some out because the pressure was killing me, but nothing would have prepared me when I heard, “Mhmm, how good does that feel?” 

Oh my god, Jake. 

Pausing my hand for a moment, just letting out shaky breaths until he says, “Keep going.” 

Is he also or.. My hand is moving a little faster this time. The sound of his voice makes my thighs tense up. Knowing he can hear me, I choke back the noises trying to escape. It only takes a minute before one sneaks out of me, and I can feel my face redden at the sound. But only until I heard the rustling sound coming from the bunk next to me. 

A low, ‘Mmm,’ hits my ears, and my mouth falls open at it. He’s.. 

Just the thought of him stroking himself six feet away from me, I can feel myself inch closer to an orgasm. Seeing him walk around in his boxers, I know that he’s blessed and then picturing that in my mind as I play with myself– my subconscious betrays me, “mmm Jake.” 

My eyes shoot open when it comes out, oh no. But I can’t stop my hand at this point, I’m too close. 

“Yes, baby,” his voice low, and the sultry tone to it making everything overwhelming. “I wanna hear you.” 

My breath falls out of me at his voice, the feeling getting stronger. Trying not to overthink the situation, I keep going. 

“Come on, Rory,” he starts. “Need you to come for me, I know you want to.”

My head is spinning as he’s talking me through it. 

“Just let it go,” he groans. “I just know you’re so fucking wet right now.”

The feeling starting to trickle through my body, my breathing picks up and I can’t help myself when I let out, “Fuck me, Jake.”

“That’s my girl,” he moans. “Fuck.” 

I can still hear the light sounds of him stroking himself, as I lie here trying to breathe through what just happened. Something possessed me when I whispered, “You sound so sexy, Jake.” 

His little groans littered the air. My legs tightly crossed as I kept teasing him. 

“Please, come for me,” I start. “I was so good for you.” 

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. 

The smile grew on my face, knowing he had to be almost there. Taking a deep breath and then pulling out the only move I felt like I could in this position, when I moaned, “Mm yes, daddy.” 

His breath hitches at my moan, the rustling from his bunk stops. I lie there in silence when I hear the light snore from our driver again, and I try not to laugh at it. Finally, hearing him get up and the bathroom door shutting rather quickly. 

How am I supposed to look at him?  

What felt like hours, was maybe another forty-five minutes, when I hear the bus door open and the rest of them stumbling onto the bus– I know that’s my cue to get up. Going up to the front and plopping down in my normal spot next to Josh, his arm hung over my shoulders. 

They recapped how the night went as the bus driver got situated and got us back on the road. I giggled at the stories that they have from the maybe two hours they were out. Sam telling us all about this girl that he almost brought back but then he realized she looked a little too much like his ex and got the ick from it. 

It was only a few minutes before Jake finally joined us and the two of us avoided eye contact. At least it isn’t just me. Trying to look at him, and he’s shirtless, which is already difficult for me, but then I realize he's in some joggers, sat low on his waist. 

“Jake, what did you end up doing?” Josh asks. “You don’t usually turn down going out.” 

I decide to be brave and look over at him, my heart pounds as I do. His eyes met mine for a second and there’s no way my face didn’t flush a little. 

“Oh, just hung out,” he says casually. “Needed to take a load off, y’know?” 

I almost choke on my drink when he says it. Feeling his eyes on me, looking back at him, he slowly winks at me. 

This is going to be a long fucking tour. 

Seven

Masterpost

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[ofredinspeed]

Barry had always been modest, he didn’t see his worth sometimes, he didn’t see himself to have the confidence for a girl like Kara to like him back. His harbored crush was very much on his mind. He liked Kara, and he could never work up the courage to tell her because our friendship was the most important thing to him. But to hear her comment on his eyes, he knew he was able to convince her, the dog eyes, the pouty lips on his face, he silently told himself he did good before he nodded instantly to her counter offer. “ Well since you’ve been so gracious with me Kara, I think I can follow your rule, besides we don’t need to be there the second festivities start.” Relaxing was key of him enjoying tonight. 

The music, the gingerbread houses, he’d sit and level his ankle if it would reassure the brunette he was okay. As he was lowered down onto the bed he’s gotten to know quite well since the accident. His foot was propped up onto a set of pillows, knowing if Barry wanted to enjoy the holiday seasons he’d have to take care of himself, he could barely look at his swollen up ankle without feeling sick to his stomach. It was ugly to glance at even with the bandages. “ I’m glad I came, I know I am clumsy and did this to myself, but it doesn’t change that I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” A tenderness in his gaze as he watched her; the tracing of her finer, the earnest in her eyes, she called me special? What? Did she like me back? It almost felt as if I should say the words now, but my stomach was knotted up, and I chickened out. Because I didn’t want that rejection, maybe tomorrow Barry thought to himself. As he settled down, letting his eyes linger for a moment. “ Perfect, although that window here looks pretty nice to break out of..” A teasing on his tone with a playful wink, not a chance that Barry would limp to the window and toss himself out. 

Please, he’d end up in the hospital this time around, he almost laughed as he felt that kiss to his cheek, oh he’d be turning red, he had to watch himself; Kara might get wind of his crush, and oh man he’d die of humiliation.

@coolerthanclark

All the hands we’re dealt makes us question the type of people we want to be. Barry Allen; he never had the perfect picture family. He was only a boy when his mother was taken from him. It forced the child inside of him to be scared, to build walls up so high no one would be able to break through. Even now as he was a teen; a teen who felt confused, who was trying to figure out the simple equation of girls. Or in his case one particular girl; one Kara Danvers; she was his best friend for as long as the male could remember. We had met when I was only 6, I remembered the day I met her; she had her brunette locks pulled back into a braid. She wore that set of girl overalls; she had that pink shirt underneath. She smiled at me; at me and I swore my heart bursted wide open. 

I was a goner, I wanted to be with her; for as long as I could remember. We studied together; we spent nearly every lunch period together. We went to every school dance as a pair; she was my plus one or was I hers? Point was we were inseparable from the day we met. She never pitied me for my childhood the whispers regarding my dad; the whispers of what caused my mother’s death. She only ever held my hand and was a listening ear for me. Except we weren’t two kids anymore where our biggest worry was what clothes we wear today. We were in college; and this winter break Kara had invited me to her family home. The family who only ever welcomed me with open arms. I was practically family; which is why I was feeling in the dumps now. Barry was an idiot; he was trying to impress Kara on the ice skates; her friend that was a guy who was shamelessly flirting with her in front of my face and I felt jealous. I wanted to be who she smiled at. I wanted to be the one to hold her hand when we skated. Barry had no fine motor skills with balance so it was the idiot that decided to take his hand off the ledge, he was the fool who attempted to do a circle on thin ice and what happened? He completely lost his own balance and he fell. He twisted his ankle. He was the one who was confided to a bed now; he was on day 4 of his resting. Of course the injury had it’s own set of perks. Kara never left his side; she’d scoot on the mattress right next to him; her head on his shoulder as we made our way through the best set of rom-com movies on Netflix. It was fun but I felt like I was an awful guest. She wasn’t enjoying the winter festivities she talked hours about because of me. I didn’t want Kara to hold regrets; and seeing as the swelling had gone down on my ankle I was being brave. I had okayed it with her mother; and I had managed to stand with my crutches; I wanted to repay the Danvers for their hospitality; I wanted to do one thing right. 

I knew Kara would give me the stern expression; she’d ask me what I was thinking. But right now I had managed to place the garlic bread in the oven along with the home made lasagna in the over; mitten taken from my hand as I inched my frame closer to the marble counter tops. Hands gripping the edge as the ache ran up my leg. Her mother was in the living room keeping an watchful eye on me; knowing she’d step in if I needed assistance. A shaken breath as I heard the jogging of feet run down the stairs; Kara.. A dreamy smile appeared on my lips; I just hoped I didn’t end up getting a scolding.

[ecoterrorist-katara]

”Aang is the one who reminds Katara to be a kid” PUT SOME RESPECT ON TOPH’S NAME!!! Toph brings out Katara’s inner child, not the sunshine rainbow flower crown inner child, but her internal gremlin. Her pettiness and violence and self-centered mischief. Aang is a ride-or-die friend sometimes, but when they’re together, Katara’s priorities are always 1) the state of the world and 2) Aang himself. Like she can be playful but she’s never really distracted from her sense of responsibility.

With Toph, Katara prioritizes much more childlike things, like having the last word in an argument, and whether her friends think she’s cool, and laughing in a day spa, and petty revenge. Only Toph can drag Katara down to her level of immaturity and I think that’s beautiful

[800db-cloud]

happy birthday porkpie !!!!!! <3

[bumblingbabooshka]

Tuvok is not as autistic coded in-narrative compared to what I've seen of Spock or T'Pol where they're othered heavily by those around them and have themes and arcs about struggling/striving to fit in BUT I do think he provides the vital autistic representation of not really angsting about your differences from other people because you're too busy and unaware and then even when you ARE made aware you mostly just think 'glad that's not me'. I think it's vital to have that sort of totally unbothered rep. I love that Tuvok is completely satisfied and proud of being Vulcan, doesn't long to experience emotion or struggle with a desire to express himself in a way his crewmates will understand, to be closer to them. I love that he has a long time and close friend that respects who he is and doesn't try to change him and that how close they are isn't framed as being in spite of his Vulcan nature. I love that being Vulcan isn't framed as a hindrance to him, like a roadblock to living a full and rich life. He has a wife and four kids and is a devoted husband and father. He's getting into gay horror scenarios. Tuvok was born on autism planet and he's thriving.

[flovoid]

𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕭𝖎𝖙𝖊. 𝕴 𝕭𝖎𝖙𝖊

I'll turn the TV on And you'll be there on Channel 9 Then you take the remote I'll get kicked out the house 'Cause you said this movie's just for guys

[day-mark]

good morning thinking about the way dream loves and how he describes his friendships in an almost romantic manner and how that is very special to me

i love how while he can make comparisons to "traditional dynamics", brother, father, etc. he also doesn't shy away from using descriptors that i think most would interpret as romantic.

i feel like most people would hear the phrases "more than a friend", "-you've been my partner ever since", "you have a place in my heart" and even dream consistently referring to sapnap and george as his "soulmates" would have someone assume it's about a significant other without context. dream using such romantic terms for his friendships is very special and almost inspirational to me in a way?

it just makes me think about how he views his own sexuality and even marriage, idk something about how it's not about the label or tradition or what is commonly accepted, but about the relationship itself, how you personally view it, and what it means to you is something that resonates a lot with me

+ <3

[lilithofpenandbook]

I'm sorry, the way he's smiling when talking about her?

The way he's acknowledging their relationship and how this will make her happy?

The way he says this about her and has no mention of ever being connected to Lucius?

My heart can't take this at all