#and all the others i didn't have room for | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hanniebaeee · 1 day ago

Text

Jisung's Baby Fever

Jisung x fem!reader

Warnings: suggestive? MDNI

Genre: established relationship, fluff

Summary: You and Jisung are out at the beach, and witnessing a certain interaction has Jisung experiencing a wild case of baby fever.

It was a beautiful day. Sunny and warm - and Jisung had a free day in forever, so you two were at the beach. The sand was warm beneath your knees as you smoothed out the walls of the sandcastle.

A little moat encircled the castle, complete with a small bridge made from a piece of driftwood you found earlier.

"Masterpiece," you muttered to yourself as you leaned back to admire your work.

Jisung sat on a beach towel, sunglasses perched low on his nose as he watched you, strumming his guitar.

"Masterpiece? Sure," he teased, a smirk pulling at his lips.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. "Don’t insult the castle you didn't lift a single finger to help build."

"I’m supervising, and providing the background score," he quipped, strumming the guitar harder. "You’re welcome."

He put his guitar aside with a grin and laid back, his arms folded under his head.

Before you could fire back, a tiny voice interrupted, "Can I help?"

You looked down to see a little girl, no older than three, clutching a bright pink bucket and looking up at you with wide, hopeful eyes. Her mum waved from a beach towel nearby, giving you an apologetic look.

"Of course you can!" you said warmly, giving her mum a thumbs up, and shifting over to make room. "Here, you can be in charge of the turrets."

The girl giggled happily and announced that her name is Mina, plopping down beside you and immediately getting to work. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and soon the two of you were modifying the castle. You helped her scoop wet sand into her bucket, and look for shells and other things for decoration. Mina squealed in joy as you showed her some sea glass and you both got back to your castle, giggling.

Jisung propped himself on one elbow as he watched the scene unfold. Ok. Wow. What's going on?

His heart twisted in ways he hadn’t expected. The sight of you laughing with the little girl, doing something as simple as building a sandcastle, hit him hard. He watched in silence for a good fifteen minutes.

“Look at her, Sungie!” You said, with a little laugh, watching the little one put shells on the castle.

"She’s adorable," Jisung said, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. "But, uh... I think it’s time to go home."

"Already? We just got here." You frowned.

He ran a hand through his hair, visibly flustered.

"Yeah, well, I’m... feeling some things. And it’s kinda a lot." He said, grabbing his guitar because he needed to ground himself.

“Feeling things? What things?” You asked, eyebrows raised.

"It means I’m looking at you playing mom over here, and it’s doing things to me," he said, his voice dropping slightly. "Like, maybe-we-should-make-one-of-our-own kind of things."

Your eyes went wide as you said, "I’m sorry. What?!"

"I’m just saying. You’re over here building castles with babies, and now I’m thinking about babies. Specifically ours." Jisung shrugged, trying and failing to appear nonchalant.

"Han Jisung!" you hissed, glancing at the Mina, who was too engrossed in her work to notice. "You can’t just say stuff like that!"

"Why not? You’re the one who started this," he teased, leaning in closer. "This is all your fault."

You huffed, turning back to the castle to hide the blush creeping up your neck. "I’m not abandoning my new bestie just because you’re having an existential crisis."

"Existential crisis?" he repeated, feigning offense. "I’ll have you know this is a perfectly rational reaction to seeing my insanely hot wife being ridiculously good with kids."

"Goodbye, Jisung," you said flatly, refusing to look at him.

"Fine," he said, standing and brushing off the sand. "If you won’t come willingly..."

Jisung looked over at the girl's mum and said, “Your little girl is amazing, she's such a joy!”

And the lady smiled, thanking him. And he said, “We're kinda heading back, so -”

You glared at him as he made small talk with Mina's mum as she came over, and then she thanked you for playing with her daughter.

You gave Mina a little high five before helping Jisung gather your things with a stony expression. He could see that you were miffed as you followed him really slow. When you two were a safe distance away from the family, Jisung struck.

You barely had time to process what he was doing before he scooped you up in his arms.

"Jisung!" you squealed, wriggling as he started walking toward the car. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he said, grinning. "You're slacking."

“Jisung, I swear to God!”

"You’re gonna thank me later, babe. Promise." Jisung chuckled, tightening his hold on you.

"I don't even know what to do with you," you grumbled, though you couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips.

"You love it," he shot back, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. "Now let’s go. We’ve got a baby to plan."

“Oh my God! You can't just-”

He interrupted you by popping open the back door loudly and set you down gently on the seat.

"Okay, thanks for the ride. You can go now," you said, crossing your arms in mock indignation.

But instead of shutting the door and heading to the driver’s seat, Jisung climbed in after you, closing the door behind him.

"What are you doing?" You gave him a suspicious look.

"I think you need some convincing," he said matter-of-factly, settling in beside you.

"Convincing me of what?”

"That we need to fast-track this whole ‘baby’ thing. Like, today."

"Have you lost your mind, Ji?" You asked with a soft laugh.

"Probably," he admitted, leaning in closer with a grin. "But can you blame me? You were out there looking all cute and mom-like, and now my brain won’t shut up about how amazing you’d look holding our baby. You’re doing this to me, babe. This is your fault."

"Oh really?" you asked, trying to keep a straight face as he edged even closer.

"Listen," he said, his voice dipping lower as his gaze locked onto yours. "I’m serious. I was sitting there, minding my own business, and then suddenly, bam - baby fever. And it’s bad, babe. Real bad."

You laughed, shaking your head. "You are ridiculous."

"You should see yourself through my eyes right now. You’re beautiful, you’re amazing with kids, and you’re mine. And I’m just sitting here wondering how I got this lucky and how fast I can get you to come home with me."

His words made your heart do a funny little flip, even as you tried to keep things light.

"Jisung, you can’t just throw around words like that and expect me to go with it."

"Ahh babe," he murmured, leaning in until his nose was almost brushing yours. "I just need you to kiss me and admit that I’m right."

"Right about what?" you asked, your voice a teasing whisper.

"Right about us," he said softly, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. "Right about how we’d be amazing parents. Right about how we’re meant to be going home and working on the baby making right now."

You didn’t have a clever comeback for that. Instead, your heart thudded loudly in your chest as he closed the small gap between you, his lips brushing against yours.

The kiss was soft at first, almost tentative, but it quickly deepened as his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. His other hand rested on your waist, anchoring you to him.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, a triumphant smirk tugging at his lips.

"So," he said, his voice low and teasing. "Are you convinced yet? Or do I need to keep going?"

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide your smile. "You’re impossible."

"I think you mean irresistible," he countered, leaning in for another kiss. "Now, how about we head home and make some magic happen?"

You laughed, pushing him away playfully. "You’re lucky I love you, Han Jisung. But fine. Let’s go."

"That’s my girl," he said, pulling you close one last time before climbing out of the back seat to let you take the wheel.

And as you settled in for the ride, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, he was right.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120

#stray kids #skz #han x you #han x y/n #han x reader #han fluff #han jisung x you #han jisung x reader #han jisung fluff #jisung x reader #jisung fluff #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff

350 notes · View notes

hhughes · 17 hours ago

Text

𐔌 　 ⁺　 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𓂃۶ৎ

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 , after some comments were made by quinn's brothers, you get a little insecure in your relationship and he has to reassure you

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. luke!bsf x quinn hughes. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fluff. teasing. flirting. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. I love writing quinn so much😭 this is a repost that’s slightly edited if it looks a little familiar to you. one of my favs things ive ever written to this day so thanks again to the anon who requested it! <333

you and quinn had been dating a few months now. sneaking around behind everyone's backs including luke. your best friend and quinn's youngest brother.

the four of you were sitting in the living room at the lake house, watching some movie. jack and luke were chirping quinn about some actress that he used to have a crush on. going on and on about how he had a thing for older women because he was such a mommas boy.

you laughed along at first, always finding it so endearing to watch the brothers bicker back and forth. even though you've been around to witness it for quite a few years now...it never got old. your smile quickly faded when jack started making comments about how all quinn's relationships with younger women has failed, and that he should go for someone older this time, cause it doesn't seem like the younger girls can handle him.

you know you shouldn't let these comments bother you. it wasn't that serious and it wasn't directed towards you, but it was one of your, if not the biggest insecurity you had when it came to your relationship with quinn. being four years younger than him. not being enough to keep him interested. these comments from two people who probably knew him the best, didn't do anything to reassure you.

"I'll be right back," you whisper, avoiding quinn's eyes as you make your way to the bathroom.

a few minutes later there's a soft knock on the door and quinn enters, when you answer, shutting the door behind him and coming over to where you're standing in front of the sink. he wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you closer and kissing your shoulder softly.

"what's wrong sweetheart?" he asks you softly, brushing the hair out of your face as he holds you tight. the time he’s had to spent close to you but not allowed to touch you, having taken its toll on him.

"nothing," you mumble and he puts his hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him and pushing you against the counter.

"don't lie to me. I know you well enough to know everything's not okay and even if I didnt this pout is enough to tell me there's something wrong." quinn says, rubbing circles on your hip and tracing your lips with the thumb of his other hand.

"do you think I'm too young for you?" the words fly out before you can stop them and quinn sighs, knowing his brother's comments was the cause of this.

"age is just a number baby," quinn says teasingly, kissing your lips softly and you sigh.

"quinn I'm being serious," you retort, grabbing both of his hands and holding them in yours, the way they were caressing you becoming a little too distracting.

"so am I. I don't care if you're four years younger or four years older or if you were born the exact same day I was. It doesn't change the fact that you're perfect for me. you know how jack is, especially if he's been drinking, he can't keep his mouth shut. if there's an opportunity to chirp me about something, he’s gonna take it. if they knew that we were together, he would be more careful about making remarks like that. you know both of them adore you and would never say anything to hurt you on purpose" quinn says and you bite the inside of your cheek, knowing he was right.

“and besides, those relationships didn’t work out because they just weren’t the right girl for me baby. not because they were younger. they just weren’t you” he says softly, pressing yet another kiss to your collarbone.

"i’m not ready to tell luke yet." you say and quinn nods, expecting that response from you.

"the longer we wait, the worse it's gonna be." quinn replies and you look down, not wanting to argue about this. again.

quinn sighs softly before taking his hand out of yours and cupping your face between his palms, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

"god it's torture seeing you all day and not being able to touch you. kiss you." he says wrapping his arms around your waist and just hugging you for a few minutes. you smile a bit, thinking that this is exactly why he was nicknamed "huggy bear". your guy loves hugging.

"I'll sneak into your room tonight. if you think a young girl like me can handle you," you quip and quinn chuckles, knowing you're not gonna let that go for a while.

"I think you can handle me just fine baby" quinn smirks, slapping your ass as you walk past him, and out the door.

𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. thank you for reading and feel free to drop by the inbox and share any and all thoughts <333

#꒰ 🗄️ ꒱ — 𝓗hughes #꒰ 📂 ꒱ — 𝓗hughes > fics #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic

288 notes · View notes

dmitriene · 21 hours ago

Note

Hiya👋👋 I hope you start feeling better❣❣ Anyways I was thinking.. Hybrid Au with any of the Cod guys you can choose, where reader and whichever of the guys you pick are both hybrids. One and or both of them go into heat/rut at the most inopportune moment possible, like on a mission or in the middle of a meeting type thing. Please and thank you❣❣😊

cw: hybrids, mating, rut, breeding, mentions of 141.

simon ghost riley realizes how important it is to discuss the next mission in order to strategize the matter between the soldiers, so when captain john price pulls him out of your grasping, hugging arms with a phone call in the morning, saying that in fifteen minutes he will be waiting for everyone in the briefing room, you both have to unglue your eyes open to the mercilessly bright morning rays and start getting ready.

the thing is, you've been lot, awfully clingy all recent week, sure, it's not something new for either of you, you've already been making simon's life harder from the point when he made you his mate, your body always wrapped or rubbing against defined expanse of his muscle and bone, kitten tail flicking around and curling over his leg, sweet face always nudging in against his own rugged and stubbled mug, his precious, needy darling.

but the further it's goes, the more possessive you got, obsessed, even, something been gnawing in at the pit of your tummy, making you scrape your sharp, tiny teeth's against the exposed pulse point on simon's neck, claw over every honed out, full corded lines of his body, make his pointed, dark furred dog ears twitch, fluttering at your very touch and ghost of a smell, cloying enough to his sensitive nose, flaring out in response to your antics, as you coated him in the smell of your body, didn't let him go anywhere without your company by his side.

the center of the reasons for your behavior were laying in impending heat, simple as that, but both you and simon missed all the signs, until today's briefing, a room full of other members of taskforce, soldiers all around both of you, and the air seems stuffy, almost, as you brush it off on being a little bit annoyed by the early morning you had to start, the burn of your skin a distant hint that something is wrong, yet you're too engrossed in listening to captain talking.

too unaware for your own good, because the smell of you permeates and fills the room until there's no space and corners left, wafting, flowing around and under the noses of your fellow sergeants and captain, heads turning, chests expanding and chasing the wafting notes that tickle their noses, making all the discussions cut short, curious, confused eyes searching your own from across the table, settling, and then does it's strucks you, body shuddering, searing hot, as you try to find simon with your slowly glassing gaze.

simon smells you before he sees you, whiskey pooling eyes eclipsing, and he feels the way his tail gives an interesting wag, straightening against the back of the chair he sits on, as it scrapes to follow his raising body, sending a screech of metal legs and a low rumble that bubbles up his constricting, swallowing throat, searching for you, his sweet mate, sitting between two ogling sergeants, their hands fidgety at the table, a simple instinct, since they know best than to touch what doesn't belong to simon, but still, it's enough to make him pounce.

saliva burns down his throat as if he’d gulped down battery acid, body moving on autopilot, chased only with the sound of his heavy boots thumping down against the shiny floor, before he reaches and snatches you off the chair, it's almost menacing, spine shuddering in it's roughness, but his gloved hands soften their touch when connecting over the curves of your shaking body, scooping you up and secure against him, and when simon's gaze shoots over each head in the room, the soldiers hide their gazes and turn around.

john's nose is covered by the palm, shielding, they all know the smell is addictive, arousing, plugging their noses and greedy mouthes, filling their bellies and pressing upon their underbelly, until they are hard in their pants, and without needing the voiced out permission, price's mouth preoccupied with biting down at his lip, simon carries you towards the door, shushing the whine that tears through your parting lips, exhaling out a feverish breath, jolting even in the tight grasp of his enveloping hold, before the door snaps shut.

it's gonna be alright, a voice of his, gravelly through sharp gritted teeth's, rings in through your ears, maybe, you seem to whimper, maybe you move, since simon's soothing is endless, blanketing over your frayed, distressed nerves, because you need him closer than just carrying, you need him naked, you need him weighting down on you, need his mouth frantic and covering you like a tactical map, need to feel your hole full, the one that is sopping wet against your sticky panties now, and your arousal bleeds with scent that won't stop abusing simon's senses.

every minute is countable, and he won't doggy you in some cramped, dusty room to give you a quick relief, so he has to walk all the way through the long hallway until his gaze sharpens at the sight of his room, shoulders squaring to bump against the door, elbow jutting down on the doorknob, until it's gives down and cracks open, letting him weight aside, spreading open further, until he steps past the doorway, your body and mind seeming to feel the changes of the air, the comfortable warmth of the walls around, the all fulfilling scent of simon, helping you to know, for sure, that you're safe.

your pointy, fluffy kitten ears flicker, no longer pressed tight against the crown of your head, tail curling in the air tentatively, then wraps around his forearm, and you let out a purr, small, contented sound as you bump your forehead beneath his masked jaw, the tension flowing off the shore of simon's shoulders muscle by muscle, melting in the weight of you in his arms, vibrating from the force of your little sounds, his own ears softening, no longer straightened forcefully in alertness, as his legs carry him forward, to bed.

there, simon would take care of your heat, fill your greedy, gaping leaky hole until it's too much and you're too full, the swelling weight of his cock inside of you, fat and curved to but against the gummy root of your cervix, tease right where you need him the most, filling you of warm spurts of his cum, leaving you plugged whole of his seed, but he'd take his time, first.

you'd get him in his own rut too soon like that, keening and blabbering his name through small, broken sobs, because you don't like how slow he moves, trying to be gentle, but you need this cock deep in your guts, battering your gummy, rippling insides until your thighs are soaked, glinting with tacky slickness that oozes out of your cunt, pounded along every wet slap of his thighs, lingering as a burn, full, hanging balls pressing against the plump swell of your ass to feel the way his bulbous tip nudges in that tiny, sensitive spot.

little claws piercing in his own flexing butt, scratching and tugging at his thumping, wagging tail, making him growl down at you, watery eyes all glazed as you peer at him through sooty lashes innocently, moaning on a purr in response, high pitched and so, so aroused, and he can do nothing but speed his already frantic enough pounds, to make sure you're sated, as you chirp in acceptance, cunt accommodating to each rutting motion of his hips, relishing in the roughness, in the sweaty mix of your scents, the darkness of his dilated pupils, enraptured by you.

until simon's thighs cramp and shake, every part of skin aflame from scarlet scratches you left, long and crisscrossing over his back and shoulder blades, as his cum oozes, drips out from your stretched out, pulsing hole, frothy globs soaking in the rumpled bedding beneath your entwined, heaving against each other bodies, and only then do you let him rest, your poor mate, panting in the curve of your neck, warm and sharp scented, his thrusts faltering, as your clawed fingers find their way in the sweaty locks at his flushed nape.

perhaps, you'll both crawl out the bed only by the time of a next mission, but it's doesn't matter, as long as you remain pleased and simon's rut won't trigger in the middle of the field, because that thing, none would survive for sure, especially not your captain and the sergeants, after the bothered state they were left in the briefing room, discussing the upcoming mission without you both, all while throbbing in their pants.

main masterlist. quidelines.

329 notes · View notes

rafesbbdoll · 2 days ago

Text

high all the time . rafe cameron

warnings . mentions of weed, inexperienced!reader (with smoking), softdom!rafe, after sex, NOT PROOFREAD

wc. 595

you were as innocent as can be in the public's eye. you never drank, never smoked, never stole, never disobeyed any laws. you only ever had sex with rafe since he was your first and last relationship and he planned on keeping it that way.

it was 1 AM as you and rafe sat on the balcony outside of his room, just having cleaned up after he fucked you. you were straddling his waist as he sat on the chair, both still naked but covered by a blanket. you were talking quietly about your plans for tomorrow with him as he lit up a joint as he listened.

one of his hands rested on your bare hip, the other holding the joint up to his lips. "i was thinking we could go to the beach together," you said looking into his eyes. your hands rested on his chest as your eyes followed the blunt that was in his mouth. you fell silent, watching as he continued.

he watched your eyes, taking another hit before releasing into the air. "what's on your mind, pretty girl?"

you bit the inside of your cheek for a moment before speaking, "wanna try," you said, motioning to the blunt in his hand. your hands moved to wrap around his neck as you watched his lips turn into a soft smirk.

rafe nodded before moving you to sit in his lap properly before handing you the blunt. you eyed it for a second before listening to his instructions. "just bring it to your lips and inhale," he gently said, his free hand rubbing your back. you nodded before bringing it to your lips and inhaling slowly. when you removed it, you let out a few coughs, giving it back to him while shaking your head.

rafe chuckled softly, "breathe, baby." you shook your head, your coughing fit dissipating as you turned your head back to him. "it burned my throat," you frowned. rafe nodded, taking another hit himself before blowing out the smoke. "it'll burn the first few times but then you'll get use to it," he said, setting it down. he moved your body again, making you straddle him as you continued to talk.

you didn't feel the high at first, thinking that you were talking normally to rafe. you had taken a few more hits with rafe's assistance, giggling as you were talking. rafe just smiled at you as you repeated the same words to him. "can we go to the beach tomorrow?" "at the beach, i want to tan." "we could swim at the beach, rafey."

your speech was slurred, eyes blinking slowly, movements getting sluggish. rafe had picked you up, bringing you both back into his room to lay you on his bed. "where is the blunt?", you asked as he laid you down. rafe chuckled, moving to lay beside on, his head resting on his elbow. "i put it out, princess. i think you're high enough."

you huffed, "i don't even feel it." rafe shook his head, bringing you closer to him, resting your head on his chest. "shh, baby. we'll go to the beach tomorrow and you can smoke again," he said softly. you just hummed in response.

you continued to talk throughout the night, talking nonsense to rafe. he gave you hums of acknowledgment, letting you know that he was still listening. you eventually fell asleep on rafe, getting the best sleep of your life. rafe just smiled at you, looking forward to your beach day tomorrow as well as getting you high again.

i wanna get high with rafe

360 notes · View notes

sheepispink · 1 day ago

Text

THE TRUTH. (super soldier au part 2)

cw: mentions of telling someone to commit suicide, threats, bullying

guys idk how i feel about this one but here u go 🙏

PART ONE

———-

Happy Birthday

freak.

A present stopped you from walking out at your usual time. It was a week until your birthday, and usually no one remembered other than those who had your file. Although that mostly consisted of blacked out paragraphs now.

It’s wrapped a little messily, not the worst, and you slowly pick it up, noticing a weight inside. You had never got a present before, much less more than a small timeframe to have some sort of celebration— not that you ever took that opportunity anyway. Most years you were too busy hung up with wires and drowning in your mind from drugs. Your thumb brushes over the paper curiously, looking for a name tag but finding nothing to mark the sender. Neatly, you rip a line through the paper which reveals a cardboard box. It’s blank, no branding or anything to attach itself to. When you open it though, you’re quickly greeted by a strange sight; a gun.

A handgun to be more specific, a Browning L941 if you wanted details. It sits neatly in the box, looking clean but you can tell by the small nicks in metal it’s not new. There’s a note beside it, typed— never handwritten.

“If your aim is as good as they say, surely you can prove it by putting it to your head.”

You’re not too surprised, at least more than the initial eye widening. After all, you did deal with the piece of paper on your designated breakfast table every morning. Your eyes flicker down, to the sentence beneath.

“If you’re too scared, we’ll just have to deliver the gift in person.”

That makes you blink, the implications of the clear threat not lost on you. It wasn't the first time you’ve heard them; enemies swore that they’d tear you apart limb by limb, Ghost promised he’d douse you in cold water the next time you caused a bloodbath and even the scientists taunted you with those syringes. The difference was, those were.. well threats you couldn't exactly avoid. Ghost would always get mad at you for making a mess, and you used to be far more rebellious against the scientists— or was that fear? Enemies threatening you was just a farce anyway, you’d have their bodies by your feet soon enough that it wasn't even worth thinking over twice. But this? Comrades, or well they’re supposed to be, who want to kill you? Teammates who would live happier knowing they put you to the grave. It’s no longer the opposing team, no longer the one Ghost points his finger at, no longer the ones that destroy humanity.

No, they only want to destroy you.

For the first few days, you tried to shake it, but you were feeling the weight of the words even more than usual. The stab of pain in your back when they threw the bread roll at you; that could be a bullet next time. Your shoes in the toilet could be your body next time. The fox who whines and whimpers would be you when you were deemed useless.

The truth was, you didnt care about the damn movie, or the cake you were promised, nor even the words “happy birthday” being said to you. It was an excuse, a white lie even, to get the Captain, or Ghost, hoping one of them would actually come into your room. Never have they stepped foot in since your first arrival, never feeling the need to either. The Captain only had time to care when you emailed him, but even that seemed too risky, what if he laughed it off and the surrounding soldiers heard? Ghost barely ever gave you time to talk anyway, and when you did get a moment, there were too many around.

So you invited them over, tried your best act as if you really wanted a birthday to celebrate with them. They’d come, you’d show them the note, the gun. If they laughed, it’d be fine, hidden in your room— you could find a solution before they told the others and it spread around the base. If they didn't laugh, you’d be safe, guaranteed that no one would really try what would happen on that piece of paper.

But you hadn't anticipated that neither of them would come at all. Your eyes brim with tears, unsure how that is even possible as you step into your room, a tenseness sinking into your bones and spreading across your body. With them completely out of the picture, you’re left by yourself until your end surely comes. Maybe you should’ve known, especially when you remember what soldiers call you— a monster.

But it wasn’t in your coding, in your genes or even near your thought process to harm those that threaten you— at least not first anyways, and especially when they’re not explicitly enemies. This was a moral dilemma your tampered mind wasn't capable of handling. Despite the sick growing in your stomach, you had a plan. There were outdoor training rooms, more specifically small cabins that were sometimes used to punish soldiers if they acted up too much.

The gift remains untouched on the dresser, a silent promise watching you at all times. It’s almost four o clock now, and the day isn't getting any brighter in the middle of winter. Opening your closet, your hands pass over the many uniforms there. That’s all they give you, uniforms, it’s why yours are always clean— your only purpose is to fight. So you grab the jacket in the furthest corner, the one usually saved for extreme weather conditions and slip that on. It disguises your figure enough and the hiking boots are exactly what you need to be a new person.

Your hand grazes the knives in your old belt, and you take a few, sliding them into the new holster behind the jacket. Just in case. There’s nothing else to take now, apart from your small radio that you sometimes keep on your person— you dont really use a phone either since it was seen to be a distraction. You’ll likely have to starve for the rest of the day, though with your knowledge you could probably find some sort of food out there. Just in case, you grab an MRE, a spare that stays around in the off chance you get dizzy from eating nothing all day.

Slowly you step out in the hallway, looking around for anyone before closing your door shut again. You didnt dare make it suspicious with a backpack, so your bottle is stuffed into your jacket pocket instead. Same for the untampered gift on the table, they’d assume you’d be back later to open it.

This was your best bet.

You head down the corridors, keeping a confident pace so people wouldn’t even try suspect you— that’s the key to everything, after all. Ironically, that wasn’t the situation at all, in fact they were.. friendly? A few soldiers gave you a nod as you walked past, which wasn’t the craziest thing but, considering no one’s ever done that before, it was exhilarating. You nod in turn, a mask hiked up to your nose but it just looks like you’re keeping your face warm for when you go outside— not that anyone here is phased by a mere mask anyway. Infact, a few soldiers who look particularly boisterous even go as far to fist bump you, likely thinking you’re someone they know. You don't care in the slightest; you’re just happy that for once you get to experience what your life should’ve been like.

The giddiness is temporary though, as you turn the corner to see Ghost stepping out of a room with two crates of drinks in his hands. You falter, stopping in your tracks as he closes the door behind him.

Is this really the right idea? Running away like this?

It’s only for the day, at least that was the idea, but what after that? What if they didn't stop at your birthday— what if it continued? You could tell him right now, pull the mask down that covers your face and confess every little detail running through your head. What would you do if he got in trouble for your foolish decisions? He had shown his stance when he chose not to show up at your birthday party; he clearly didn't care at all.. right?

“Do you need something?” He says lowly, clearly having realised that you’ve frozen in your tracks before him, and giving you a narrowed stare for that reason. Surprisingly, it’s less demeaning and more questioning, considering how harsh his eyes usually go when looking at you. It gives you a bit of hope.

”D-do you need any help with that, sir?” You’re not sure why your voice stuttered, not particularly wanting to think much about the matter either. Instead, you stare right back at him, your eyes widened as you stare in his pupils moving around like it’s searching you.

Did he recognise you?

“No, that’s alright.” It’s gruff, and harsh and yet far more nicer than he’s ever spoken to you before. You manage to force yourself to nod in response, giving a small salute before hurrying off down the corridor.

Trekking through the forest is a little bit of an effort but you eventually meet the small cabin that’s there. It’s almost never used in winter, but in the summer they might do their training in these areas and keep the lunch here. Slowly you step inside, recognising from the get go that there’s not particularly much. There’s a few bedrolls for wilderness training, albeit a bit torn and some dry firewood left discarded on the little fireplace. That’s good, at least you won't freeze anymore than you already have. It’s not like you can use it though— it’s too risky. If anyone sees smoke out here you’re bound to get caught in seconds, and possibly even by your predators.

You lock the cabin door, placing a chair beneath the handle as you let out a sigh and slump against the wall. This would be a long, painstaking night and you cant help but wonder if it’d been better to just defend yourself when they came. But what if you lost control? What if you seriously hurt someone? Even if they were trying to harm you?

The thought makes you shudder, even more than the thoughts you’ve been desperately pushing back. But when there is nothing else to do in this cold place, it’s hard to keep your mind focused. The only way you survived these past three months with Ghost is by not thinking about your situation— at all. It’s probably why he hates you. From how he reacts anyway, you’re more like a robot than you’ve ever been a human. You’ve been monitored all your life, since before you were born you were made for the cause. No clue of who your mother was, you were genetically modified as an embryo for all the traits they wished for you to have. Other children in the program had the same, of course, and for the first years of your life you were blissfully unaware. You didn’t understand that the kids you ran around and giggled with would end up being your own enemies, despising that you turned out to be the successful experiment and not them. It wasn't as glamorous as it sounded, but they complained, saying you didnt have to be sent away like they did, to be fostered and deal with the pain of the experiments for the rest of their lives.

That’s exactly what you had though. You were split from them altogether, coddled by scientists and doctors, personal trainers who felt more like drill sergeants than anyone that wanted to help you. Of course, you were tampered with too, drugged up on strange substances as they tampered with your nerves, always changing you to be better because you were never enough for them. They were supposed to enforce rationality within you by erasing anything that could get you worked up, and so your emotions became suppressed, pushed down and piled with the weight of responsibilities to keep them down. But it clearly wasn't successful, at least when you’re not on the battlefield. When you entered that place, it was like a switch had turned on in your brain, all morality slipping out as you only followed the orders of whoever the handler was. Your mind always enters a haze after you snap out of it and come back from hours of combat, leaving you feeling sick to the core.

But now, things are changing— too fast. You had cried, because they didn't come to your birthday party. For once, your stomach felt sickly with misery and your breath had caught in your throat when you’ve never stopped breathing before, ever. Your hand reaches into your pocket, pulling out a small fox toy. It was a gift from a younger scientist who had just been a mere intern. He had been put forward for the menial task of looking after your post-experimentation state, making sure your vitals were fine. You didnt get to talk to him that much, considering you mostly were deep in sleep, recovering from the new strain on your body. But he stayed beside you, making sure you were okay. When you left to get tested on the field with Ghost, he gave you a small plush, just the size of your hand.

“A little gift.” He chuckled, smiling gently as he rubbed your bandaged arm. “Don't give me that look. I know you’re not actually that unbothered, they just made you that way. You can say you like it, you know, that it makes you happy.”

You could only nod in return, it was the truth, you were very happy.

The sky was already growing dark and without the determination that kept your body distracted from your needs, you were actually feeling your hunger full force for once. The little fox is clenched deep in your hands, a natural predator and yet it’s more common to see them die out in the wild than thriving. Just like you. Your stomach growls, and so you reach for your MRE, eyeing the food within. You were probably supposed to warm it up first, but you’d just have to eat it like this for now. You rip the first packet open, and just try to scarf it down without thinking about the taste too much. It wasn’t the best to say the least. But you’re used to it now; you barely got proper meals apart from missions, and often had to eat one of these after an unsuccessful trip to the mess hall.

You’re about to inspect the other packet when a low scratching noise is heard against the door. Instantly, you pause, mind shifting into something akin to a battle mode already. Slowly, you approach the door, pressing your ear as your hand reaches in your belt for the knife. The windows were frosted up, so it’s unlikely they could see in when it was already pretty dark in here. A low whine echoes out and you realise who's actually stalking you, quickly removing the chair and opening the door. The little fox stands there, looking up at you as it slowly steps inside the cabin.

For once, you let your guard down and just sigh, closing the door and securing it again. “C’mere.” You rarely fear anything, and so you scoop the little fox up without a second thought, even as it squirms initially and its claws are sharp on you. You settle in the warmest area of the room again, next to your mre pack and grab the fork, scooping out some of the food. You didn't need the rest, but he could use it. The fox reluctantly eats the food, and you giggle when you realise it probably doesn't taste much better to him either despite being starving. You took it off by letting him drink half the bottle of your water, which he greedily takes along with a few fruits you packed.

“Your fur is matted, and you’re all banged up but you’re still adorable.” The thought makes you sniffle, a bittersweet smile rising on your lips. The fox rests its head on your lap as you run your hand over its fur, gently scratching every now and then. Why couldn’t people see the truth in you as you did right now? You’ve trained for so long, fought to keep all of them safe on their missions and all you got in return was a scared look, disgust and sometimes even anger. It hurt, more than you allowed yourself to feel.

But this is the first time you’ve been alone without the battlefield before you, or a supervisor staring you down. You could have a gun to your head tonight, and no one will find out until the morning, so for now you just begged that the soldiers were joking, for the sake of everyone involved.

You just wish Ghost and Price would’ve listened, so you could be safe and warm back there, at least getting an early sleep on your birthday. The scientist promised, he said it’d get better, he said there would be others who would care like he did. He said only the higherups were this bad; he lied to you. The tears drip again, unable to stop this time and you bury your face in your hands, mourning everything you’ve lost, and everything you’ve yet to lose. Dead or alive, you may lose it all.

————————-

Taglist:

@mellohimmku94 @rafaelacallinybbay

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost angst #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n

283 notes · View notes

hugheshischier4313 · 3 days ago

Text

YOU MISS HIM DON'T YOU | Q. HUGHES

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | Emotional cheating (not on Quinn), angst, fluff, oblivious!reader and Quinn, soft!Quinn, neighbors-to-lovers, reader x OC (Andrew, reader's boyfriend), alcohol, flirting.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Months into your friendship with Quinn the two of you finally admit to what's been there all along.

🎧 Playlist | 📷 Pinterest Board

Based on a scene in Season 3 of Desperate Housewives (No spoilers in the writing. Bolded words are quoted from the show): “Don't tell me nothing happened. We’ve been fighting over this all week. You miss him, don't you?”

𝗪/𝗖 | 6.8K

𝗔/𝗡 | hi lovelies, thank you for being patient with me for the full fic of this idea. The lines indicate time jumps, they jump back and forth to different scenarios of reader and Quinn through the time they have spent together. I absolutely love these two and this idea and I couldn't find a perfect ending. I rewrote multiple endings and ultimately decided to just make a part two when I finally figure it out. Hope you enjoy, love ya!

It had been a wonderful night, the wine glass in your hand still full, the bottle sitting on the coffee table. The random episode of Bob's Burgers in the background forgotten, adding nothing more than a soft glow to the room. As you sat there listening to Quinn talk about his summer back in Michigan, you found yourself examining him. The way his eyes roam the room as he speaks, the smiles before he lets out a laugh and the way his hands run through his hair occasionally.

"You should have visited, even for just a weekend. You would have thought this was way more entertaining if you were there." Quinn teased as he finished his story. You pushed down the feeling of guilt as you smiled back at him, poking a finger into his shoulder. "I wouldn't have let you live it down if I had been there. So it's probably for the best," You teased back, but the truth was you had wanted to visit Quinn over the off-season, but when the time came, life had another plan.

_________________________________

"You should come down for the week. The sunrise and sunset alone would make the trip worth it. Imagine spending your week off by the lake, a beautiful sky for you to take pictures of. I can send you a ticket, just say the word." As the smile crept onto your face, so did the slightest tinge of pink. You had been putting away groceries when your AirPods had read the message out loud. Quinn had a habit of making fun of your love for the sky. Always calling you out, shrieking, 'The sky is so pretty' like you had repeatedly done (in a terrible attempt to match your voice). You swear you could hear it through the text despite him being over 2,000 miles apart.

When Andrew's call came through, you found your phone and typed the text about sending it. "Y/N! I got it, I got the promotion!" His voice came booming out, and the excitement was evident in his voice. "Congratulations, Andrew!" you reciprocated his excitement. "And what better time than before you have a week off. I was thinking of going away for the week, maybe Banff? I'll rent us the cabin we had when we went last time." He kept ranting, too excited to keep anything in, but his voice was drowned out by the thought of Quinn.

"I have to go, but I'll send you the flight information later tonight. I can't wait to see you." Andrews's voice didn't falter, almost like he was on autopilot, just rambling what he knew to say. They exchanged their quick goodbyes before he hung up.

As if to taunt you, the next sound into your ear was' NEW MESSAGE FROM QUINN 'Or even just for the weekend if you have other plans for your week off.' As you looked back down at the phone and saw the unset message, 'A whole week of sunset pictures? Count me in Q'; the thought of deleting it weighed heavily on you.

The truth was you had truly missed Quinn this summer. You had moved to Vancouver for grad school in the fall, and as luck would have it, Quinn lived in the apartment next to you. In the past 10 months, you had known each other; the only time you hadn't seen each other was when he had away games. And even then, when he returned, he made it up to you by devoting time to be with you. He bought you a postcard from all the cities he played in, and you had them displayed on your fridge. He signed all of them after the few glasses of wine you shared after one of his longer roadies.

You had (in your tipsy state) jokingly told him to sign one so you could sell them if he ever decided to be a jerk to you. And as he did, you knew you could never sell them; they meant too much to you. He had made a joke about writing nonsense on them to lower the value if you tried. Over the off-season, you found yourself religiously turning them over to look at his little notes, his penmanship holding inside jokes that you held dear to your heart.

As you stood there staring at the postcards on your fridge, thinking of the brunette, you couldn't help but feel the guilt in your chest. The nagging thought that your friendship with Quinn may not be as platonic as the two of you acted.

Why were you standing there thinking of another man when you were just on the phone with your boyfriend? You hadn't and would never cheat on Andrew, but the world seemed to disappear when you were with Quinn. Time slipped by faster, and you longed to sit on a couch with him again.

And at that moment, it had become apparent that you no longer had a choice; you had to choose between the two men, Andrew or Quinn? But then again, it wasn't really a choice between the men; it was a choice between right and wrong.

'Sorry Quinn, I can't this week. Take lots of pictures for me. Can't wait to see them when you're back.' Send. It was vague, and you knew he could send them to you whenever, but you also knew that, at least for this week, he couldn't be your primary focus. You needed to focus on your partner and his accomplishments.

_________________________________

As you had sat in a surprisingly unpopulated section of the airport for a Friday night, you haphazardly skipped through Instagram stories until you were faced with Quinn's private story of him on the boat with his friends. You had no reason, or right, to be this upset, but as you looked at the sunset on the picture's horizon, you couldn't stop yourself from hitting the call button.

The phone barely rang once before you heard his voice, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Hey, I was j-" His voice was laced with exhaustion as if whatever physical activity he was doing was still fresh. And you found yourself more clam than you had been in days. Oh, how you had missed his voice.

"Are you upset with me?" The words were rushed and tumbled out before you could comprehend the repercussions. You knew that now was not the time to be having this discussion. You were sitting in the corner seats at the airport, waiting for your plane to begin boarding. But it had been two days since that last message you sent, and you had heard nothing from Quinn.

You had been a little hurt when you spent all of Thursday waiting for a response from the brunette. He had never taken more than a few hours to respond to you, which is why you had given him the benefit of the doubt that Wednesday night after you sent the last message. But now that you had spent the entirety of your workday contemplating writing a new message, you were upset, and the Insta story had only added fuel to the fire.

"No, of course not. Why?" His voice was genuine and calm, a nice contrast to the loud background on both sides of the phone. You figured he was still on the boat with his friends. "Oh, I just figured you were upset since I haven't heard from you." You felt stupid for calling and continuing to talk despite it being obvious he wasn't alone. "But I'll let you go; sorry for calling." you hit the red button before you had time to overthink. Your voice had become weak, and you hated that you were taking time away from him and the time he had to spend with his friends and family.

You had the overwhelming feeling to cry, but you didn't know if it was because of guilt for Andrew or Quinn or because any doubts you had that Quinn was mad at you had disappeared. NEW MESSAGE FROM QUINN: 'Give me 10 minutes, I'll call you back'. The message held an inevitable dominance over it; there was no question that it was a conversation that had to happen, and it had to happen now.

_________________________________

Quinn had known about your boyfriend from the very beginning. He had seen you together, bringing boxes to the apartment beside his, and noticed you immediately. He wished he could say it had all been innocent, but the first thing he saw was how your legs looked in the tennis skirt you had been wearing. You bent down to pick up a fallen pillow as he exited his car in the parking garage. His eyes lingered on you, and he forced himself to turn away before you noticed. He swore he would offer to help you before he met eyes with Andrew as he stepped out of the parking garage elevator.

"I didn't mean to; it just happened. You were bent over, in a skirt, right outside my car; it was hard to look away when I didn't expect you to be there." Quinn had a slight pink tone to his features right now, and you were smiling, trying to suppress a laugh. You stood in the kitchen, pouring the margaritas into your cups.

"You mean the skirt I'm wearing right now? Is that why you mentioned it? Quinn, you could have kept that secret forever. I mean, you couldn't waterboard that information out of me." You were always more giggly when drinking, which was contagious to Quinn. "But since you didn't, I'm gonna use this against you for the foreseeable future." The laugh left you when you got back to Quinn's couch. "I'll try not to make any sudden movements that may catch you off guard," you teased as you stood before him and handed him his drink.

"It's not funny; I've felt bad about this for months." he tried to be serious, but the smile never left his face. As you nodded with a smirk on your lip, you turned from him after he grabbed the glass, "Y/N, I'm serious." He wasn't; he could never stay upset with you, even in a joking manner.

"I guess I'll just go back to my apartment then; I don't want to bring back any of your past shame." your body once again turned towards him as you leaned down over to hug him, "Bye, Hughes, I'll make sure to only wear this when you're out of town." He let out a sarcastic 'ha.' "You don't have to leave; I can control myself. I promise." he rolled his eyes and slowly got up to stop you.

"I don't know; I think the only logical answer is to wear your Drew sweats." You had pivoted and ran to his room before he could reply. You had bugged him countless times to try them on over the past months; you had just wanted to see if they were worth the hype because the black sweats had been sold out forever (and maybe, subconsciously, because of your past love for Justin Bieber). And every time he said no, you took this as your opportunity to try them and bug him simultaneously.

Being in Quinn's room was familiar to you. You had spent most days at one of the two apartments, and sometimes that meant laying in his bed watching TV after he had just returned from a string of away games or after a challenging game or practice. You had worn his clothes before, too; it was always in a platonic way, the first time you had locked yourself out after being out on a run when it started raining. You lost your key on the run, and the concierge was gone for the night. You had also spent the night; he let you sleep in his bed and took the couch.

As you ran into the room, you closed the door behind you and walked into the closet, closing that door, too. You had found the sweats and slowly walked out of the closet. There was no sight of Quinn, and the bedroom door was still closed. You walked towards the door, sweats in your hand, as you called out to him, "Q? Are you -" But you were cut off as he tackled you onto the bed next to you.

The two of you lay on the bed laughing before turning to face each other. The laughter died down, and you were smiling and looking at each other. The two of you lay there for a while, not saying anything until you broke the silence, "Your eyes are a different color every time I see you, but today I can see every shade in them." You don't know why you needed to share your observation with him, but it felt right. "You cut your hair." He reached out to tuck a strand behind your ear and play with the end of another. His voice had been so him, soft yet dominant. It was true; you had gotten a slight trim the day before and a few longer layers at the bottom of your hair, a small and simple detail that could have been missed. In fact, he was the only person to notice; none of your classmates or even Andrew, although over Facetime, had noticed.

The room felt heavy as you looked from his hand in your hair to his eyes again, stopping to look at his lips for a second. And when you reached his gaze, it was unreadable. "I -" A phone began to ring as Quinn was about to speak. You could see a shift in his demeanour as you continued to look at him. He got up to find the cause of the sound. "It's your phone." He walked it over to you before heading out to the living room again. The phone illuminated ANDREW CALLING.

You looked towards the empty doorway as you brought the phone up to your ear. "Hey you," your playful voice sounded forced, and the smile on your lips was even more so. "Hey, I have a surprise for you. The notification said it was in the lobby." This shocked you, not only because it was a surprise but because Andrew was never one for small gestures. It was always something big like him ordering 4 dozen roses to your desk after your fourth date. But he had never just sent you or given you something randomly.

Andrew could be a sweet guy; you worked together before he asked you to have dinner with him. You knew you were moving and had no intention of starting anything serious before moving to Vancouver, but he had been so persistent, and it felt nice to have a distraction with all the craziness of moving. But living in different provinces has brought no comfort to either of you. It felt like pen pals most of the time. You would call him a few times a week and talk for an hour before he had to go. There had been a few times where you could have sworn you heard someone else there, but the times you mentioned it, it felt like the fight had been more trouble than the issue itself.

And maybe subconsciously, you felt like a hypocrite. Your relationship with Quinn was platonic, but the number of times you were confused as a couple in public could be seen another way. In fact, you hated to admit it, but it felt like you communicated more with Quinn when he was away than with your boyfriend.

"There's something for me in the lobby of my apartment complex? Andrew, what did you do? It's 7pm?" As you started talking, Quinn walked into view, bringing your drinks and extending to you. "It's a surprise; you should go get it now; I'm assuming it's just on the concierge desk based on the picture." You stared up at Quinn as you listened to Andrew, "Okay, I'll be down in a minute, and I'll call you back once I have it." The phone call was quickly over.

"What did you order?" Quinn asked with a smile, used to all the packages you've received. A few that had been too heavy for you to carry on your own that Quinn had taken himself. Even when they hadn't been too heavy, he would carry them for you if he was there. "I'm not sure, Andrew sent it to me." You could have sworn there was a look on his face that was gone as quickly as it appeared. "You want me to go with you in case you need help?" there was no hesitation in your quick reply of 'yes.'

As the two of you walked down the hall, you were overly aware of the distance between you. It was no different than it had been in the past, but there was a particular charge. The words shared and unshared in the bedroom hung heavy. "So I never got to even put the sweats on," you joked while waiting in front of the elevator. "You can borrow them when we get back up if you want," his answer made your breath hitch. He had never let you try them on, much less borrow them.

He looked at you, letting you walk into the elevator first. The ride down was quick and quiet, but how you looked at each other made everything race faster. Your heartbeat quickened as you saw his slight deviation towards your lips before making their way back up. "Quinn," your voice came out as a low plea; whether it was to continue or to stop was uncertain. He stepped closer to you as the two of you stood in silence for a brief moment before the doors opened. As you stepped out, your heart felt heavy.

As you made your way towards the front desk, you saw the back of a man at the desk, but when you heard the voice, it made you freeze. Andrew he was in your lobby waiting for you, Quinn failed to notice your pause and ran into you. However, before you could tip forward, Quinn had steadied you with a hand on your arm and waist. Andrew called out when he turned around.

"Andrew! What are you doing here?" You didn't miss the look he gave the sight of the two of you or how his gaze only lingered on Quinn's hand on your waist as he walked closer. You unhooked yourself from Quinn to hug Andrew. The hug was stiff; he held himself higher, and his head hadn't moved from the position it had been in before. You figured he was still looking at Quinn.

"I wanted to surprise you; we settled a case earlier than expected, so I took a few days off." You had pulled yourself to his side, a view of both him and Quinn. They kept looking towards each other, completely ignoring you. "Well, Andrew, this is my friend I always tell you about, Quinn. He introduced himself the day I moved in, remember? He lives next door to me." Andrew smiled down at you as you continued. "Quinn, you remember Andrew." Quinn looked from you to Andrew before extending his hand. "Good to see you again, man." Andrew hesitated before shaking his hand.

There was a quick silence before Quinn grabbed his phone from his pocket and looked at the screen, excusing himself, "I have to make a phone call; I'll see you around," but before he could walk off, you gave him a side hug goodbye. You had done it a thousand times before, and feeling like you couldn't because Andrew was there didn't feel like a good sign, so you did it anyway. "I'll text you," you quietly said as you let go.

The next few days had been uneventful, showing Andrew around Vancouver. The hallway had felt unusually empty each time you passed, hoping to run into Quinn. A string of away games was starting that Monday, and when you came back from dropping off Andrew at the airport on Sunday night, you noticed the bag sitting in front of your apartment door.

The black sweats were inside with a note, 'I'll pick them up when I'm back. Enjoy :). ~ Q" He never asked for them back

_________________________________

"Hey," his voice was clear despite the pixilated quality of his Facetime call. He was wearing a white T-shirt, his hair was wet, and he had a look on his face you had never seen. "Hey Q," your pulse felt overwhelming as if anyone who looked at you could see it throbbing against your neck. "Are you having a good time back home?" It was a buffer; you didn't know what Quinn wanted to say, and judging by the look on his face, you weren't sure you wanted to.

"Andrew called me." His voice was blunt, direct to the point, despite the few seconds he stared at you, hesitating to continue. "He asked if I was sleeping with you." His eyes held yours while the rest of his face had no expression. "What?" The nervous laughter that filled the air around you was nothing more than a way to suppress the hurt and anger of this new confession.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry Quinn. I don't know why he's been so paranoid lately. It seems like he misinterprets everything I mention to him as something else." For the last two months, you had known that Andrew suspected your friendship with Quinn was something more. He had brought it up the last time he was in Vancouver and again over the phone a few weeks ago (although it had been in retaliation to the question you had asked him about the girl with him in a video his friend had posted on their story).

"Did he misinterpret it, or did he just see what is obvious that you and I can't admit?" The question was loaded with truths that weren't meant to come out. The look that the two of you shared through the screen had only confirmed it. In a split second, months of ignorance had led to a confession when the two of you were thousands of miles apart.

His breathing was heavy; you could hear it through the phone; he had a look on his face that closely resembled his look when his team lost in the Playoffs. It was the look you saw in the mirror this morning when you had not heard from him. It was the split-second look he had in the lobby the day Andrew surprised you.

Everything playing in your head; all the nights he would knock at your apartment after a game with a box of food, the way you would pack him an 'after-game snack' consisting of oranges, a granola bar and a fruit snack (which he teased you about until you mentioned it was like they did in little leagues), the way your breath hitches every time he gets shoved or falls.

All the times, the two of you had gone for a drive when life felt too heavy, and you shared secrets you had never told anyone before. The way he took off your makeup when you had gone out one night or how he knows your coffee order for every cafe you go to. Quinn and you had been in the in-between since you first hung out.

"I mean, how long are we going to pretend like nothing is happening?" His voice was calm and demanding, with a hint of subdued anger or annoyance you hadn't picked up. "Quinn, I -" You were at a loss for words; nothing could genuinely capture how Quinn had made you feel.

You knew you were safe with Quinn around, not only in a physical sense but emotionally. The way he made you feel heard and seen. The two of you were floating in two separate worlds, but the weight that engulfed you was the same. You understood the complication of pressure and leadership; you understood needing to be the most prominent presence in the room, even if you weren't the loudest. You understood the pressure of wanting, no needing, to be the best for everyone else even if it tore you apart.

It was all those things and more that drove you together, the ability to soothe the ache the buildup of burden had left sacred on the two of you. When you felt a crushing weight on you, the only thing that could alleviate it was being around the man who had quickly become your best friend. Immediately, he knew whether you needed to just sit and cry while he comforted you or go for a drive so you could yell out lyrics or if you needed him to just talk about mundane things.

And you do the same; you knew by the way he left the ice, by the way, he knocked on the door, by the way, he walked down the hallway toward your apartments. You knew when to go over to him so he could catch the recaps, and you knew when to invite him to yours to force him to ignore the criticism. You knew that even after a winning streak or after a goal, he needed comfort, understanding the overwhelming feeling of the slightest reprieve until the next game.

And the honest truth was that you had pushed back any romantic feelings because you knew without a doubt he was your person. You had never been one for friendship with men, and when your friends asked about what you could have in common with a professional hockey player, you never knew what to tell them. Because from every book, movie, series and scenario you knew, as cliche as it was, the only quote that could describe what the two of you shared was, 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.'

"Y/N, please." His voice was barely above a whisper, a plea to say anything. "It doesn't have to change anything. I just need to know; I didn't mean to hurt you; I tried to give you space. I've tried to respect your relationship." He had been ignoring you to avoid hurting your relationship, and in the process, the two of you were the only ones who were hurt. "Quinn." There was only one way you could describe it: "You consume me." Despite the tears that fell, you stared at him through the phone, wishing he was there with you, wishing your plane was going to Michigan.

"Now boarding flight-" The announcement couldn't have come at a worse time; there was so much to say, and an airport right before boarding was not ideal. "That's my flight." You wiped your tears as you stared at the man on the screen. "Y/N, I'm sorry for bringing this up now; it's not my best moment." he was trying to cheer you up; he wanted you to know that everything would be okay. "Quinn, I don't know what to do," your voice was a quiet plea to understand what was to come.

"Given everything that was said and that we're in two different countries right now, I think we should take some time to digest. I know you're spending time with him, and I don't want you to feel overwhelmed. I think we should take the next week or two." your heart was breaking, but your mind knew that was the best option. And for the first time since the beginning of the conversation, you thought of Andrew, and the slight tinge of annoyance arose again.

Quinn must have noticed because he was quick to interject his following comment with the most sincere look, "But before you go, I just need you to know that you consume me too." He had his signature half smile as he continued, "You are the most amazing woman I have ever met. I think about you constantly. I think about you when I look at the sky, when I'm practicing with my brothers, when I go out with friends and when I lie in bed. I watch for you in the crowd during warm-ups. You've become one of my favourite people so quickly, and I'm so glad of all the apartments in the city, or even just in the building; you moved into the one next to mine."

You smiled as the tears fell; if there had ever been any doubt, you now knew for sure that Quinn was your person. "I'll be forever grateful that the universe brought me to you too." And with a quick goodbye and promise to reach out in two weeks, you were in your seat on the plane.

Your mind racing with thoughts of Quinn and the revelations that had come to light and then again to Andrew. You didn't know why, but your annoyance was morphing into slight anger, the idea that he had called Quinn and accused him of sleeping with you. What annoyed you more was that he had done that and hadn't mentioned it to you. He hadn't mentioned the idea of your friendship with Quinn being something more since that one phone call a little over a month ago.

You sat with that feeling for the rest of the flight.

_________________________________

"Okay, fine, you are mad at me! But name one thing that I have done to deserve it!" Andrew was standing on the opposite side of the room. His breathing was heavy as he ran a hand through his hair. "You called Quinn." your voice was laced with a hint of sadness and betrayal. The statement was simple and direct but held a meaning that both of you knew would change everything.

The argument had started with something so small: the two of you walking on eggshells the past few days and your passive-aggressive comments when he mentioned anything related to Vancouver. Over the past few days, you had tried to get Andrew to admit to calling Quinn; he wasn't stupid; he had connected the dots and was simply choosing to ignore it (which infuriated you even more). The days dragged on; waking up and getting ready in silence, spending the day exploring, trying to avoid long conversations at all costs, getting ready for bed with few words and getting into bed facing away from each other.

Andrew's response had taken a second longer than it should have. His hesitation made it clear that he was surprised by the direct approach, almost as if he hadn't thought you would say anything. "You're damn right I did, I've seen the messages, the glances, the pictures. What was I supposed to do? Pretend that nothing was going on?" His voice was slightly louder as his eyes narrowed on you.

"Nothing was going on. He never touched me." you raised your voice, but the words weakened. Your hands were flailing around, trying to emphasize your point. The tears behind your eyes aching to be let free. It was too much, and you knew the implications of your words. This time, however, Andrew didn't hesitate to answer; his reply, even louder than before, came out the second you were done talking. "And I wasn't gonna sit around and wait until he did."

The two of you stood there staring at each other, chests heaving, eyes full of emotion. You sat on the counter stool beside you before looking away from Andrew and placing your head in your hands, elbows propped on the counter. You heard his footsteps getting closer, and soon, Andrew was pulling out the stool next to you.

You glanced at him from your peripheral view; he was staring at the kitchen in front of him, a look of contemplation on his face. "Do you have feelings for him, Y/N?" you diverted your eyes back to the counter. The question caught you off guard, "Hmm?" you could feel his eyes on you again, but you couldn't gain the strength to look up. "Do you have feelings for Quinn?" Each word was emphasized by the slight pause he took between them.

Although you couldn't meet his eyes, you mustered enough courage to look up from your hands towards the kitchen. "I would never cheat on you, you know that." you shook your head as you said it, knowing it wasn't the answer he sought. "That's not what I asked." you wanted to look at him, to tell him he was all you wanted, that there was nothing between you and Quinn, but that wasn't the truth, and all you could do was continue the slight head shake you had started.

Andrew didn't say anything for a bit, but you could hear the sound of his movement as he repositioned himself on the stool and leaned closer to you. "Did you fall for him?" His voice was softer and more quiet, slightly above a whisper. You tried to speak, but the tears beat you. As the tears left your eyes, you looked towards Andrew. His eyes were glued on the fridge, his expression hurt, and his eyes held a slight gloss. "Oh god," he was avoiding eye contact with you now.

You stared at him a moment longer, trying to calm down, "Nothing happened." your voice was shakier than it had been all night, and the tone held no conviction. He turned his head slightly, the two of you locking eyes. "Don't tell me nothing happened. We've been fighting over this all week." He turned away before he even finished his sentence. Your tears continued, "You miss him, don't you?" The look on his face had hardened, but his voice remained the same. He knew the answer; it had been evident every time he called you, and you were alone or when he would try to call, only to be met with a text saying you were on the phone but would call him back.

You kept your eyes on him; the guilt weighed heavy on you. The implication of every choice you had made since the first interaction with Quinn ran through your mind. You couldn't put your thoughts into words or rationalize your feelings. "I'm sorry." It wasn't even a valid answer, but it was all you could think of. Your emotions were running too high, and you needed a breather. He leaned back on the stool and let out a breath, but a few tears trickled down as he did. "Damn" His voice was barely audible; if you hadn't been looking at him or if the room hadn't been so quiet, you would have missed it.

_________________________________

It hadn't been your intention to end things with Andrew that way. Despite all the issues the two of you shared, you didn't want to hurt him. When you talked everything through the following morning you both knew the relationship had been over longer than either of you cared to admit. It had been as civil as a breakup could be, and the guilt that had once overwhelmed you started to blur.

As you looked out the plane window and saw Vancouver, you felt the missing pieces of you start to come together. It was strange how life finds a way to bring you exactly where you need to be. Accepting your graduate program at The University of British Columbia led you to a weekend of exploring and apartment hunting in Vancouver. You had found your apartment complex by accident; you had been lost looking for another building when your eyes landed on it. The large winders on every floor practically shoved you into the lobby, and when you applied, only one unit was available for your expected move-in date. It had been a long shot, and somehow you ended up winning.

You could recall the sound of a car pulling into the attached parking garage as you pulled a box out of your trunk, unintentionally knocking down a pillow in all the commotion. As you bent down to pick it up, you could hear the car door open and close before hearing a few footsteps. They stopped as you located your missing pillow; as you stood back up, you turned to find the stranger but found yourself searching for Andrew after hearing his voice. As you stood there waiting for him to grab another box, you looked towards the elevator and saw the stranger standing there. You couldn't see his face; he was just a blur of brunette hair and a gray outfit as the doors closed, and although you couldn't make out all his facial features, you could have sworn you saw him give you a smile before the doors closed completely. And before you even had a chance, Quinn captured your attention. And unbeknownst to you then, you had made a lasting impression on him, too.

As you stared at the city, music in your ears, in the back of the Uber home, you could see every moment you and Quin shared. Every mundane moment, from knocking on his door in the morning with breakfast bagels and coffee to drunk conversations in the back of a car after a night out celebrating to sitting in either of your living rooms watching a movie with your commentary. It was like watching a montage scene, and it felt freeing because, for the first time, there was the possibility for something more. The feeling of longing had been hidden underneath your guilt, coming hand in hand, and now both were gone, instead replaced with something positive.

"Miss, you have a package." The voice of your building's concierge brings you back to reality. It was a relatively wide rectangular box; you hadn't ordered anything that would come in a box of that size, which fueled your curiosity even more. "Thank you." You smiled and offered a kind goodbye before walking to the elevator.

Without hesitation, another image of Quinn flew into your mind as the elevator doors closed. The first time you spoke was in the elevator up to your floor. He smiled, encouraged you to enter the elevator first, and asked if you needed help with your box despite carrying his bag. However, after declining his offer, he made no other effort to continue the conversation. The two of you casually glanced at each other as the doors closed, waiting for the movement to begin, but when it didn't, you looked over to the right side of the door and laughed slightly. "What floor do you need?" he asked with a slight chuckle. "Sixteenth, please." You returned his chuckle and smiled. You watched as he clicked the sixteenth button but no other. "Are you on the same floor?" You could hear excitement in your voice, but you pushed it down. "Yeah, guess that means we're neighbour neighbours" Once again, that damn smile felt contagious; he felt contagious.

When you reached your floor, you found yourself walking faster than usual to reach your door. It had only been a week; somehow, everything was completely different yet utterly the same. You walked into the apartment and set the package down on the counter, needing to know what was inside. Opening the lid, you are met with the most beautiful arrangement of your favourite flowers. There were different shades of your favourite colour, layering beautifully on each other, but what caught your eyes was the distinct blue rose in the middle, an envelope sitting directly on top.

The envelope had your name written on it with the handwriting you had come to memorize. Inside was a postcard from Michigan, "Y/N, I can't get you out of my head. Only two more weeks left before I'm back in Van, and I can't wait to see you again. I found this while I was out, and it reminded me of you. -Q" You held the card close to you for a second; it had the faintest mix of florals and Quinn's cologne. You looked at the fridge before deciding to keep the note in your room. It felt intimate, something you wanted to keep between you. Something caught your eye when you took the flowers out of the box and into a vase. Inside the envelope was a small plastic bag; you reached for it and found a necklace.

A delicate chain with a small pendant with a sun and a moon, and when you turned it over, your breathing hitched; there was a small 43 engraved. When you read the note, you assumed the postcard was what he had seen, but it was the necklace. He had seen a necklace encompassing the sun and moon, something you were passionate about, and he had added something personal. The engraving must have been something he did; the probability that it had been done in manufacturing was slim to none, making it all the more special. You put it on and never wanted to take it off.

You grabbed the postcard off the counter and lifted it closer to your chest before taking a close-up picture from your lips to showcase the necklace and postcard, "I'm thinking about you too. To the longest two weeks that will ever exist. To the sun and the moon and back." And as you hit the send button, you couldn't help but think about what was yet to come.

_________________________________

#hockey fic #hockey imagines #hockey oneshot #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl blurb #nhl fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #quinn hughes x y/n

317 notes · View notes

mythalism · 17 hours ago

Note

You seem to be both a solavellan and mythal fan so maybe I won’t get shot for this question lol

Veilguard was my first game. I kept default settings, which meant solavellan world state.

I genuinely wonder: what makes people think Solas loves Lavellan? Or that if being with Mythal possible, he still would choose Lavellan?

He is so clearly not over Mythal. Last game is filled with references to their connection, she herself confirms that both still love each other. He is very protective of her while arguing with Elgarnan. Statues of them everywhere, him painting and playing songs about her, his very own room having statues of Mythal… In the end he discloses he does it all for her, refuses to stop after Lavellan’s appeals, and only does so after Mythal shows up.

In comparison, Solas describes what he had with Lavellan as “entanglement he selfishly grow close to” he both regrets and cherishes. Most of the romance is carried on Inquisitor’s shoulders, as she both explicitly tells what he means to her, reaches out to him and ultimately shares his burden of atonement.

I couldn’t understand why this ship was so popular, so I watched solavellan romance in DAI. And while it was beautifully done, having the context of Veilguard, I just keep seeing Mythal in every “we shouldn’t”/his face after balcony kiss/ultimately abandoning her in the end. It feels almost unfair and cruel for him to enter another relationship while his heart isn’t free. And to visit Lavellan’s dreams afterwards

What am I missing?

a lot of people would shoot you for this. but dont worry i am not one of them. be careful out there tho

i think the first thing i would say is that instead of watching a video, you would need to do play a full solavellan playthrough of the game if you do want to genuinely understand the relationship and why it is so beloved. im not sure which compilation you watched, but even one that includes all their conversations (rather than just the cutscenes, of which there are very few) cannot do the relationship justice. so much of understanding solas as a character and how he loves people, by extension, is wrapped up in how he reacts to the world at large, its people, its history, its institutions, and its metaphysics. assuming you're new to DA and wouldn't know this, solas's romance in inquisition is the shortest, most sparse romance in the game, and was added later in development. as a result, much of his essential characterization happens outside the bounds of romance content, but still adds deeper meaning, context, and depth to the relationship. even in terms of romance specific content, some of my favorite content occurs in banter that probably was not included in the video you watched. the solas romance is less a standalone love story, in the way many of the romances are, and more of a big juicy delicious cherry on top that helps you better understand the overall dragon age solas plot/cake you're eating.

theres a couple non-romance specific scenes that shed significant light on solas & mythal's dynamic from his perspective that i am not sure if you have seen and honestly i wouldnt recommend watching them because, again, i think you should just play inquisition and experience them in the proper context. but solas's companion personal quest is directly about his corruption at the hands of mythal, though we didn't know that until veilguard came out and contextualized it. and this quest pretty explicitly demonstrates how he feels about what she did to him: rage, beyond forgiveness, deserving of death. he also comments on her at the temple of mythal, and his comments are mostly neutral but verging on judgemental, and do illuminate that while he may have loved her, he certainly did not trust her. it is he who first clarifies that she was a goddess of vengeance, rather than justice. which i cant think about too long or else i'll get angry that they ret-conned it to benevolence -> retribution or whatever the fuck and erased the anders/justice/vengeance parallel... anyway

but i think more telling is his absolute refusal to drink from the well if asked, and most telling; how he fears for an inquisitor who drank.

he specifically calls mythal dangerous, arrogant, and fickle, absolutely refuses to submit to her will once again via the drinking of the well, and begs an inquisitor he loves not to do the same lest she suffer the same fate. he loves mythal, of course, but he also fears her. he is critical of her behavior and wary of her motivations. his love for her exists alongside his recognition of what she was.

another fairly vital bit of information is how according to trespasser (cole banter), solas used to wear mythal vallaslin until he burnt it off his own face when he developed his vallaslin removal spell. its how he got the little scar above his eyebrow. meaning, if vallaslin were slave markings, that solas was effectively enslaved to her. this is... pretty important context, obviously. but we never find out what it might have been like for him. veilguard.... didnt forget but rather deliberately ignored this because it wasnt willing to interrogate the issue of slavery which had been vital to solas as the leader of a slave rebellion. ugh. anyway.

this leads into my next point which is that veilguard really drastically changes solas's motivations to be far more mythal-centric than what was set up in inquisition/trespasser. we always knew something was up with them, and people always wondered if they might have been lovers, but veilguard goes in on this idea in a way that many people would actually call out-of-character compared to how he behaves in inquisition. veilguard itself though does present their relationship as rather complex though, in my opinion its one of the best parts of the game. the two moments that i chew on most frequently are the letter from felassan in mythal's weird little dragon pit that reveals how he made that island for her but locked it away when she was killed. and my ultimate fave is how she reveals that in the literal thousands of years she has been sitting there alone since her murder, many of which he was alive and fighting a rebellion partly in her name, and in the 12 years since he woke up from uthenera, he never went to visit her. not once. its giving jane eyre and i fucking love it. in this same conversation, she also says that when he killed flemeth, he wept. this, i think, is the crux of how he feels about her. he can barely look at her. he resents her. he will use her like he did anyone else. he loves her. he feels lost without her. he will never forgive her. he misses her. all of these things are true at once, and mythal seems to feel similarly; she loathes him. she understands him better than anyone. she resents him for betraying her and abandoning her. she calls him a pathetic little crybaby pussy ass bitch. she loves him.

i dont think anything you said in your message is necessarily wrong. i do think he loves mythal still. i think he always will. i think mythal is valid when she says that they have a bond that no one will ever understand. i agree he is protective over her. i also interpret their relationship as romantic though a lot of people do not. i just love drama. but i think you are misinterpreting his reluctance to be with lavellan as coming from his attachment to mythal as a person, rather than his attachment to his duty to what mythal represents - the world he ruined, everything he's ever done wrong. to say that solas would actually consciously choose mythal over lavellan if they were the final two contestants on the bachelorette is honestly, absurd. sorry. because actually he would choose neither, he would dramatically let the rose fall to the ground and run off to restore the elven people while chris hansen (felassan) dramatically runs after him. both women are secondary to him when it comes to the good of the entire world, and fixing what he broke. he has had plenty of moments to choose mythal and run away with her if he wanted. he has literally had her bertha-ing out in his crossroads attic for 10 years. he also literally does kill her via flemeth. which isnt to say that he wouldn't kill lavellan if forced to, i think he would. but the point here is that its not mythal vs. lavellan. its mythal vs. the world, and lavellan vs. the world. he should have chosen the world over mythal. he didnt. he created the blight instead. he destroyed everything. he cannot make the same mistake again, so he will choose the world every. single. time.

regardless, every time solas turns away from lavellan in the romance, he is not thinking "i wish you were her". he is thinking "if i do this to you, i have become her". prioritizing his own desires over the good of the world, stringing her along, using her as a tool to do his bidding (getting the orb back), are all things mythal did to him. he told her he would follow her anywhere. and when he begins to realize that lavellan would follow him anywhere (as she says in veilguard), he freaks out and has to end it. he knows he will have to continue to kill and cause destruction to bring his world back, so if he did allow her to join him in walking the dinan'shiral, or did anything other than break her heart and leave her, he would be corrupting her the way mythal corrupted him; a weapon to achieve his goal. but he refuses. in his mind, he already destroyed the world for love once; at mythal's behest. if he abandons the world for lavellan, he is destroying the world for love again, and making her an accomplice. so, every time he leaves her it is an act of love.

the way the inquisitor is the driving force of their romance is partly just... gameplay lol but its also consistent with the overarching theme of consent in a relationship that is fundamentally unethical and unequal. lavellan has to be the initiator or else solas becomes a predator. some would say he is anyway lol, but its clear much of the writing was designed to avoid this with the way he is constantly denying himself, backing away, trying not to give in. it might have been juicy, but for him to knowingly romantically and sexually pursue a young woman 10,000 years younger while lying to her about his identity and using her for his plans would make him an entirely different character. a character that would be a hit on romantasy booktok, but not solas. consent and ethics are so central to not only the relationship thematically, but to solas himself, and some of that is because of mythal and the inequality of their own past dynamic. solas is so passive in the romance not because he doesnt like this weird clingy bitch who wont leave him alone, but because he does not want to recreate the same dynamic that corrupted him into pride and uhhhh literally destroyed the world. i'll leave you with another essential quote that you may not have encountered yet:

Cole: It isn’t abuse if I ask! Solas: Not always true.

in trespasser, solas's duty to bring down the veil was more unambiguously to the elven people and the alleviation of his own crushing guilt, while mythal was collateral damage in his way and he used her like he would use anyone else (including lavellan loool) as a tool to achieve his goals. we see this when he kills flemeth and takes mythal's power. in veilguard they had to obscure this slightly to make him "less sympathetic", to use the devs own words. and they did this by shifting the crux of his motivations to mythal. i dont think his lap dog devotion is out of character, i adore it, but i hate that it came at the expense of his more complex and sympathetic motivations of saving the elven people and spirits from the damage of the veil. as a result, when looking at his behavior in the context of inquisition + trespasser + veilguard, i interpret it as mythal being symbolic of the destruction of the world at his hands. and not to toot my own horn but trick's interpretation that they shared on bluesky does support this, when they said that to solas, mythal represents the past and lavellan represents the future. ive written about his statement that it was all for mythal, and the tldr is that i think it is also supposed to be interpreted as symbolic and reflective of his psyche. but even if he did do it all for her, i dont think that necessarily negates his relationship with lavellan. he needs mythal to break the cognitive dissonance, alleviate his guilt, and release him, because she is the source of all of those things in the first place. lavellan could never break them because she is frankly irrelevant to those things. he is so caught up in his sunk-cost fallacy that he feels the only way is through. lavellan may not be able to break the hold the past has on him because she is separate from it, but she can offer him another path once it has been broken, a fork in the road he thought was straight; her, their future.

i think to say solas's heart is not free is a misunderstanding. he denies his heart's desire over and over, we see this clearly in the letter he sends to lavellan in veilguard that expresses how badly he wanted to put down his burden and stay with her. in his expressed reluctance to leave her in crestwood, how he refuses to lie and tell her it meant nothing. in "no matter what happens, i want you to know that what we had was real". his indulgent final kiss in trespasser. in "i will never forget you". its especially apt that you worded it this way and that vhenan means "my heart". if anything, his heart is the most free part of him. it is everything else that belongs to mythal: his body, created at her command. his path of destruction and ruin, which she set him on. his purpose, which she distorted from wisdom to pride. she, then, is the only one who can give it all back to him. and as soon as she does, he is free to prioritize his heart. and he quite literally does.

tldr; play inquisition <3

#asks #character analysis #meta #mine #this is not what i planned to do tonight but here we are #thanks for coming to me anon you absolutely came to the right place

230 notes · View notes

littelovelunette · 2 days ago

Note

Sev with reader whos actually really insecure and sad and frustrated that Sevika won't say 'i love you' back or out loud despite them having a strong long enough to say I love you relationship.

"Please, Say it Once."

Mentions of abuse, Sevika being mean as fuck, emotional abuse

It was today, you'd confront her today.

You knew Sevika wasn't big on verbal affection or babying and coddling you but lately you've been feeling even more neglected than the usual.

Your past traumas made you feel like she was cheating on you. Probably in bed with some other woman. Some other woman who she'd actually say "I love you" to and some other woman she'd commit to.

You knew from the start that Sevika had this problem but you didn't want her to feel like she was the problem or anything.

You wanted to be her special someone who would be there with her through thick and thin. But now it was simply just emotional abuse and you'd cry yourself to sleep as Sevika slept peacefully snoring beside you.

What if you brought it up and Sevika suddenly wanted to break with you? What would you do? You didn't know so you decided to make it a good setting when you'd confront her.

That's how you found yourself in the living room, pouring out a glass of whiskey for Sevika, heart pounding violently against your chest.

Sevika takes the glass with a mumbled "Thanks" and that's when you finally managed to say it.

"You know I don't need grand gestures or poetic words." You paused. "I just want to hear you say it, just once." You said, your last words coming out more saddened than you anticipated it to be. Sevika didn't answer you. She didn't even look at you. Did you even matter to her?

She swirled the amber liquid in the glass, taking a breath before saying, "You already know how I feel. Why's it matter?"

Her words cut deeper than they should've. Your fingers fidgeted, anxiously picking at the cuticles of your nails before you said, "Because it just matters! Every time I say it I'm usually always met with silence. It's like talking to a wall!"

Sevika paused and huffed a deep sigh, lines of her face prominent in the dim golden lights of the room.

"I'm still here, aren't I? Still coming back to you every single day despite the mind crushing, bone crushing work I do for Silco every day." You can tell Sevika is trying to keep her cool, her words shuddering with controlled rage and anger.

You looked at her, grey eyes meeting with yours. There guilt flickering somewhere deep behind the façade of animalistic anger.

"Your body is here, your mind and heart are with some other woman." Was what you wanted to say but held your tongue.

"Just say it, please," your words, now a soft plea, were teetering at the edge of tears building up somewhere behind your tearducts.

Sevika didn't say anything, veins in her neck flexing, jaw tensing. She didn't say anything, held her silence. Held her pride. Her ego.

"You can... But you wont." You spat and turned to run away and lock yourself in your room, tears starting to roll down your face in a steady stream.

Sevika grabbed your wrist with her mechanical hand, metallic tips of her fingers digging into the delicate skin of your hand, you flinched.

Sevika slammed the glass down, crushing it against the table with her flesh hand easily, liquid spilled everywhere. "Don't start." Sevika stuttered, for the first time it was, but she stuttered. "You know it."

"Then why can't you just say it?"

Sevika looked like for a second she'd bash your hand in but she didn't. She took a second, exhaling through her nose, nostrils flaring.

"Saying it makes it real." Sevika sounded vulnerable, eyes darting down at the floor. You blinked in confusion, all emotions coming at a halt. "I say it and it's out there, you get used to it. You think you can get the tough and gruff Sevika just say 'i love you' to you and you're all high and mighty that's the cue for you to leave—"

You put a finger to her lips, shushing her. "I'm not going anywhere."

"And if you do?"

"I won't." You said firmly and slowly brought your hands up to cup your face. "Loving someone isn't a weakness. It's not a death sentence."

For a second the both of you stayed silent, foreheads pressing against one anothers.

"You spilled all the whiskey, and I poured it for you." You pouted sadly making Sevika's heart clench. She slowly stroked your hair.

"I'm so sorry, bunny." Sevika's apology was quiet and whispered, such a contrast to her previous tone. "I love you, my angel."

187 notes · View notes

thoughtfulfangirling · 2 days ago

Text

It was because he wanted there to be conspirators. It was much better to imagine men in some smoky room somewhere, made mad and cynical by privilege and power, plotting over the brandy. You had to cling to this sort of image, because if you didn't then you might have to face the fact that bad things happened because ordinary people, the kind who brushed the dog and told their children bedtime stories, were capable of then going out and doing horrible things to other ordinary people. It was so much easier to blame it on Them. It was bleakly depressing to think that They were Us. If it was Them, then nothing was anyone's fault. If it was Us, what did that make Me? After all, I'm one of Us. I must be. I've certainly never thought of myself as one of Them. No-one ever thinks of themselves as one of Them. We're always one of Us. It's Them that do the bad things.

#book quotes #I assume #?#Terry Pratchett #books #q

79K notes · View notes

celtrist · 2 days ago

Text

GOOD END

While I know it's a little late, I needed something to practice watercolor with quickly, and I didn't want to end the little event on a sad note! Kept it vague with the "fin." since this pic could honestly just be normal Alastor haha

So let's give Alastor a happy ending, hm?

The curse is lifted but Alastor still finds it difficult. To go from being on edge from the watchful eyes of anyone who passes him to no one batting an eye is hard to grasp sometimes. Alastor still jots in his notebook the new habits of those he's around, he still checks the time frequently with his trusty pocketwatch, and he still keeps as far away from Vox as he can. However, Alastor sleeps more soundly now.

Everyone was quite aghast when their minds cleared. Charlie tries to constantly make it up to Alastor with gifts and things to do for him, which does the opposite effect due to that being not too dissimilar to what she did when she was obsessed. Vaggie's distrust of Alastor is more prevalent than any sort of affection for him, but she generally tries to keep herself away from Alastor. Her stomach never sits right around him, seeing the subtle frantic gaze of his eyes and knowing it was in part due to her. Due to the traps, the forced dressings. Just the forcefulness of her obsessed half unnerves her as a whole. While she doesn't exactly like Alastor, she also can't stand what she had done to him. She tries to pretend it didn't happen until Alastor confronts her at some point.

Angel Dust tries to stay casual with Alastor but backs off when Alastor clearly needs it. And he pushes others, really just Charlie, to back off when Alastor is looking overwhelmed. Angel is still a bit awkward around Alastor, having the same issue as Vaggie and feeling unwell about drugging him. But unlike Vaggie, Angel is willing to push past it and try to make a new friendship with Alastor if he'd welcome it (or at least acquaintanceship). Husk is definitely left with mixed feelings. He obviously doesn't like Alastor due to the man's treatment of Husk before and after the curse was broken. But he can't help but feel like shit for what he was doing to Alastor when he was obsessed. He tells himself Alastor probably deserved it because of how crappy he treats him and due to how sick in the head Alastor is overall anyway. But it always comes back to the feeling that Husk can't quite absolve his actions. He was the type to despise spiking drinks and to top on it all the other shit Alastor had to deal with? Husk doesn't like it, but he had to admit he was guilty and even sorry for what he did. He doesn't make that known to Alastor though, lest he has more fuel to taunt Husk with. Even if in reality he probably could do with a confidence boost. Husk and Angel also have a better relationship. The thing that made them heated with each other is now the thing they bond over. They each talk out their frustrations of what they did and keep an eye on each other if they see the other falling back to old habits.

Niffty on the surface seemed relatively unaffected. She giggles at what Alastor went through and expressed jealousy about having "all the bad boys" after him. Niffty does dust off Alastor a lot more now. Especially after someone touches him. She also doesn't climb onto Alastor like she used to. She asks him for permission a lot more for cleaning his room, touching him, and so on. Lucifer keeps away even more than Vaggie. He practically lived in his tower. It wasn't until ALASTOR was the one coming to him that Lucifer began actually coming back out. Of course Charlie visited to try and encourage him out, but Lucifer didn't want to even be in the same hallway as Alastor due to the guilt he felt. Due to this, Alastor ended up just coming into Lucifer's room unannounced to escape the others (most notably the too apologetic Charlie). No one would expect him in Lucifer's room, so that's where he went. And since Lucifer HAPPENED to be in his room, Alastor might as well rant about any annoyances he has or vent things out. Needless to say, they actually have quite the companionship now. While they still have gripes with each other, Alastor and Lucifer will willingly stand next to each other. Alastor still is hesitant to go full jabbing mode and does still reel in their fighting quite a bit. A habit that hasn't quite gone away from the curse. Lucifer, on the other hand, while can get into it in the heat of the moment, is a bit hesitant to be harsh with Alastor. Since the curse was lifted, Lucifer went from one of his least favorite hotel residents to the one he probably spends the most time with.

Rosie of course feels just awful about what she'd done. Any lunches done, they either go out or Alastor makes the lunch. She fusses over him still, which always leaves Alastor stiffer than comforted. When she does notice him feeling under the weather, Alastor is very quick to brush it off as nothing in such a way that it clearly indicates it's something. Rosie tries to keep to Alastor's comfort but also is definitely one of the few that isn't particularly afraid to push his comfort zone. Both Valentino and Velvette were annoyed. Valentino was upset that Alastor had the power to make even the moth obsessed with him, and he didn't even GET the chance to have even a peck on the lips from the dumb deer. While Valentino isn't nearly as interested in Alastor, he's not blind- Well, he can see well enough that Alastor is appealing visually. So he's not nearly as disgusted as Velvette about having been obsessed with him. Velvette was disgusted about having been obsessed with Alastor because he's a "dusty bitch" as it were. He's old news, obsolete, and she acted like a fool that anyone could've had an inkling of a chance to see. Disgust and embarrassment sum up her feelings, and she makes it known when she sees Alastor.

Vox... doesn't take it all well. He's frustrated and can't help but blame Alastor as if he had control of the curse. He hates him. And he blames him for the stupid feelings that STILL are there. Everything is so scrambled for him. He feels guilty, but at the same time doesn't. He refuses to feel guilt for Alastor. Even when they were "friends", Vox could remember how Alastor still seemed to think he was above him. But then, Vox had absolutely toyed with Alastor who was more or less isolated. He had wanted to do things that, while he's not exactly opposed of others doing them, he himself wasn't exactly interested in doing. Vox decided it's easier to be mad at Alastor than feel remorse and disgust with himself. When they cross paths, he's very cold to Alastor. He wants to relish how he sees Alastor clutch his staff tighter when they have eye contact, or just Vox being in the same room has Alastor moving closer to anybody else. Like he'd rather take his chances with anybody as long as it wasn't Vox. But when he tries to be pleased, something just isn't clicking and instead his head gets fuzzy and he feels like his insides need to come out. So he gives Alastor very little time of day. Maybe a few words or glances, but overall doesn't even give Alastor a cocky smile or sneer. Just an impassive look.

Despite the curse being gone, there are the occasional lapses. Particularly with those Alastor spends the most time with. All the hotel residents try to keep each other in check, Husk and Angel, for example, catching the other if they're falling back to drugging Alastor. Vaggie might see a dress and buy it, planning a way to put it on Alastor before catching herself and burning it. Charlie will hit her head telling herself to stop the obsessive thinking, sometimes to the point of hurting herself because she CAN'T put her friend through that again. On the rare occasion, it won't be caught in time. Angel Dust has successfully drugged Alastor and not long after went to get help in a panic. Alastor frequently gets more paranoid again about the curse not actually being gone and generally more cagey for a few days, especially around the person who did it. The residents try to help the best they can. These lapses aren't frequent enough to be like an everyday problem but will vary from person to person. Generally speaking, these lapses are luckily pretty short and generally don't get as far as a thought or a small subconscious action.

And despite everything, Keekee still doesn't like him. Something Alastor finds quite funny as well as comforting. While he's grateful for the curse to be gone, it still lingers here and there. And it's done damage to Alastor, he knows this in the way he can't relax, the nightmares that plague him. And sometimes he wished the curse wasn't lifted. That his nightmares and behavior were "still justifiable". That they weren't "unreasonable" now. But Keekee is the same. Disliking to kinda tolerating him when he needs the pity, the same as before. Everyone else in the hotel thinks it's odd that Alastor's smile gets wider when Keekee growls at him as he picks her up, or when she hisses and runs off from him. But they don't question it. It's the least they can do.

Alastor himself despises the pity he sees in their eyes sometimes. He hates the paranoia he still feels about it, the fear that the curse is gone was actually a dream or something momentary. And the lapses don't help much. But Alastor continues on as best he can, trying to play the confident radio demon he's touted about as for all his years. He relishes the fear in people's eyes but falls back on habits like the aforementioned noting down everyone's habits and schedules in his notebook and keeping up with the time. But he also still flirts like he used to when he thinks it's needed and gets embarrassed when it doesn't work or someone points out he doesn't need to do it. He was so used to working around and using the curse to his advantage that now those tactics are kind of pointless. He still has a difficult time taking a stroll and not feeling eyes on him constantly, and can be on edge for a sudden suitor to pop up. But he does relish the lack of attention and adoration when he can get past that anxiety. Alastor often has to talk himself through walking out of his room, assuring himself he wasn't going to get swarmed by unwanted advances. He still has days of isolation and feeling alone, moments of sudden irritation and times where the idea of doing his radio show sounds more unappealing. He has moments of insomnia or refusing sleep, just to avoid any nightmares. This often leads the other residents sort of lead him to bed or let him sleep in their presence (unintentionally by Alastor most of the time). And sometimes Alastor's feelings are overwhelming that he can feel a bit detached and just sits and tries to feel his surroundings to ground himself. He still suffers from the curse in a sense, but he's also become a lot more open to spending time with others in the hotel than before. Willing to have more bonds. He's more playful than before, but does usually keep his distance still. And while he does have a jolt in his posture if he gets hugged or touched suddenly, the stillness does pass not too long after. Alastor, strangely enough, is a lot more empathetic in a sense. He'll still laugh when he sees someone fall down the stairs, but he will also actually help and make sure they're okay. It's more notably seen with the guilt others have. He confronts each of them about it at one point and comforts them, in his own way. He doesn't sugarcoat things and tends to be a bit harsh, but Alastor certainly has a strange level of compassion (if you can call it that) you wouldn't expect from him. This is a more subtle change to him, but still prevalent nonetheless (and one Charlie is very proud about). He doesn't like it being pointed out though and will go out of his way to be awful if it DOES get pointed out. The fear from others has helped Alastor so much in regaining any confidence he may have lost, and is something he thrives with. He probably tries to use fear more than ever as a tactic to get what he wants, especially when he catches himself falling back to previous tactics of flirting. And when he can and under the right circumstances, Alastor is able to relax his muscles and end the day with a genuine smile on his face.

One thing Alastor feels quite dissatisfied with this story is the loose end. He never was able to find the anonymous caller. While it wasn't perfect, Alastor had very few outlets of actual companionship. He had his shadows (whose own sentience were put into a bit of question), Keekee (on the basis of her disliking him), and a random caller. It was by chance really. The phone in his room rang and he happened to answer. And he very quickly (and embarrassingly) became attached when he realized they weren't affected. At least, he figured, due to not actually properly meeting Alastor. So they kept in contact without giving names to one another. But the caller stopped calling at some point, leading to Alastor to just sit by his phone waiting for hours. Not one of his proudest moments, but it was a moment of weakness. As soon as the curse was lifted, Alastor had made it a personal goal of finding this mysterious phone friend. He was positively elated with the idea of meeting them face to face, as phone calls only filled so much of his need for socializing. Alas, the anonymous caller seemed to have disappeared. Alastor keeps looking, but he's not sure if something happened to them or, on the off chance, he had just imagined all the calls. He still takes the time to sit by the phone though. Just in case.

#Shout out to the anon ask that essentially gave the phone friend idea #Forgive me for the description if it's lacking. It's late and doing it sorta last minute #Celtrist #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #cel doodles #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #fanart #hazbin hotel fanart #hellaverse fanart #hazbin hotel keekee #hazbin keekee #keekee #Hazbin Obsession AU #artists on tumblr

180 notes · View notes