#my inky deserved better

[sunsetwaltz]

[DA:V Ending Spoilers]

This image is so funny to me:

Here were have:

Morrigan, looking as Chasind-witchy as ever

my battle-ready Rook in her elfy elf armour, and

poor Inky showing up in the 2nd ugliest jammy jams we've ever seen

[vhentheneras]

happy inquisition day💚 heres my white haired lavellan. she got so sad her hair turned grey

[lordofthemushrooms]

this is so specific to my DA:I playthrough but Foolish One by Taylor Swift is a Josephine song and the first time she heard it she considered punching the Inquisitor for making her understand it.

[leftoverpages]

Loyalty’s embrace

Pairing 𓅪 Benjicot "Davos" Blackwood x betrothed!reader

Tags 𓅪 jealous and protective Benjicot, small fight scene (no gore), fluff at the end, romance, reader uses she/her but no physical description

Notes: i have been writing for years without posting anything so i have a insane number of fics to post, enjoy lol

Wordcount 𓅪 1.3k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

The grand ballroom of Blackwood Manor was awash with warm candlelight and the soft hum of conversation. The air was filled with the scent of roses and the clinking of crystal glasses. Lady Y/N stood at the edge of the room, a vision in her resplendent gown. Her dress, a masterpiece of crimson silk and midnight velvet, flowed around her like a river of fire and shadow. The bodice, embroidered with intricate patterns of gold thread, clung to her form, highlighting her grace and strength. Across her chest and shoulders, the Blackwood sigil was proudly displayed, a symbol of her new allegiance and her own fierce spirit.

The fabric shimmered in the candlelight, every movement sending ripples of light and shadow cascading over her. The skirt, full and layered, swirled around her feet like a tempest, the deep red contrasting beautifully with the inky black. A delicate gold chain rested at her throat, drawing attention to the elegant curve of her neck.

She stood there as her betrothed, Benjicot Blackwood, engaged in conversation with several lords and ladies. She found herself alone for the moment, sipping a glass of champagne and watching the festivities from afar.

Despite the grandeur, there was a nervous flutter in her stomach. Being betrothed to Benjicot, the fierce and enigmatic heir of House Blackwood, was both an honor and a daunting reality. Their engagement was more strategic than romantic, a union meant to strengthen alliances and secure power. Still, she had hoped to find some genuine connection with him, something to hold onto amidst the political machinations.

"Lady Y/N, you look ravishing tonight," a voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see Lord Cedric, a notorious flirt and known for his less-than-honorable intentions, standing far too close for comfort.

"Thank you, Lord Cedric," she replied, forcing a polite smile and taking a small step back.

He didn’t seem to notice—or care. "It's a shame you're tied down to Blackwood. A beauty like you deserves better," he said, his eyes raking all over her in a way that made her skin crawl.

"I am perfectly content with my betrothal, Lord Cedric," she replied firmly, trying to edge away. But Cedric persisted, moving closer, his hand reaching to touch her arm.

"Come now, Y/N, you can’t tell me you’ve never wondered what it would be like to be with someone else," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

Before she could respond, a strong hand gripped Cedric's wrist, pulling him away from her. "I believe the lady has made herself clear," Benjicot’s voice was low and dangerous, his dark eyes blazing with anger.

Cedric paled but tried to maintain his bravado. "I meant no harm, Blackwood. Just a bit of fun," he stammered, taking a step back.

Benjicot stepped between Cedric and Y/N, his posture tense and protective. "Your idea of fun is clearly misguided," he said coldly. "If I ever see you bothering her again, I will not be so forgiving."

Cedric sneered, his fear giving way to indignation. "And what will you do, Blackwood, uh? Throw me out of your pretty little ball?"

A dangerous glint appeared in Benjicot’s eyes. "No, Cedric. I’ll do much worse."

Before Cedric could react, Benjicot’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him staggering backward. The ballroom fell silent, guests suddenly turning to witness the confrontation. Cedric, recovering from the initial shock, lunged at Benjicot with a roar, swinging wildly.

Benjicot dodged, his movements controlled and precise. He landed another punch to Cedric's midsection, doubling him over. "You don’t know to quit, do you?" Benjicot muttered, grabbing Cedric by the collar and lifting him to his feet.

"Enough!" Cedric spat, struggling against Benjicot’s grip. "You think you can control everything? Even her?"

Benjicot’s eyes darkened further. "I don’t need to control her, Cedric. I trust her. Something you clearly don’t understand."

With that, Benjicot shoved Cedric away, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. Cedric, breathing heavily and bruised, glared up at him. "This isn’t over, Blackwood."

"It is," Benjicot replied coldly. "And if you value your life, you’ll stay away from her."

Guards approached then, at Benjicot’s silent command, hauling Cedric to his feet and escorting him out of the ballroom. The guests slowly resumed their conversations, the tension dissipating, but whispers of the altercation lingered.

Benjicot turned to Y/N, his expression softening as he reached out to her. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, but her composure faltered, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Thank you, Ben. I didn’t know what to do..."

He stepped closer, his hand tenderly cupping her cheek. "You never have to face such things alone. Not while I'm here."

Y/N looked up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity. Instead, she found a depth of concern and protectiveness that took her by surprise. She had always seen him as distant, a warrior hardened by duty, but now she glimpsed the man beneath the armor.

"Why do you care?" she asked softly, her voice trembling.

Benjicot sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "I know our betrothal was arranged, but that doesn't mean I don't care for your well-being. I've come to admire your strength and grace, Y/N. I want us to be more than just a political alliance."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. She had longed for some indication that he felt more than obligation towards her. "I want that too, Ben," she whispered.

He smiled then, a rare, genuine smile that made her heart flutter. "Then let's make it so," he said, taking her hand in his. "Together."

As they stood there, hand in hand amidst the glittering ballroom, Y/N felt a warmth spread through her.

Benjicot glanced around the room, the tension in his shoulders easing. He looked back at Y/N, his eyes filled with a tender resolve. "May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice soft and inviting.

Y/N felt her breath catch. She nodded, unable to speak, and he led her to the center of the ballroom. The musicians, sensing the moment, began to play a slow, melodic waltz.

As they took their positions, Benjicot's arm encircled her waist, his hand warm and steady. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and he guided her with a grace that belied his warrior's demeanor. They began to move, their steps perfectly in sync, the world around them fading into a blur of light and sound.

The music swirled around them, a symphony of emotions. They glided across the floor, each step a silent conversation. Y/N felt as if they were floating, the dance a magical respite from the political intrigue and uncertainty that had shadowed their engagement.

Benjicot's eyes never left hers, their dark depths reflecting a myriad of emotions. In that moment, she felt a warmth spread through her chest, a burgeoning hope that perhaps their union could be more than just a strategic alliance.

The music swelled, and Benjicot spun her gracefully, her dress flaring out like a crimson and black flower. When they came back together, he held her a little closer, his gaze softening even further.

"I meant what I said," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want us to be more than a political alliance. I want to know you, Y/N. To truly understand you."

She smiled, her heart fluttering with a mixture of nerves and excitement. "And I want to know you, Ben."

As the final notes of the waltz echoed through the ballroom, they came to a gentle stop. The guests around them erupted into applause, but Y/N and Benjicot remained in their own world, their gazes locked.

"Thank you for the dance," Y/N said softly.

Benjicot brought her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. "The pleasure was mine," he replied.

In that moment, surrounded by the approving smiles of their peers, Y/N felt something shift. The alliance they had been forced into was beginning to transform into something real, something hopeful.

The future was uncertain, but for the first time, she felt truly seen and protected. And perhaps, just perhaps, they could find love in each other’s arms.

[flseur]

꒰ 𐙚 in for it — genshin men ꒱

⟡ synopsis : how genshin men eat you out, just to keep it brief

⟡ characters : wriothesley, neuvillette, al haitham

⟡ content warning : nsfw ( 18+ ), fem!reader, cunnilingus, face-sitting, fingering, office sex, teasing, praising, squirting

౨ৎ note : been in a writing mood recently and a wriothesley brain rot… sorry if it's shorter than usually, still trying to get used to writing smut but please enjoy ! ૮꒰ ˊᗜˋ ꒱ა

୨୧ WRIOTHESLEY

❥₊ ⊹ wriothesley was… messy when it came to eating pussy. to him, the messier the better. and the more messy you were on his face, the longer he was staying between your thighs.

right now, wriothesley was in bliss. your thighs locked around his head and your sweet cunt in his face, what could be better than this?

"sit down, sweetheart." he commands.

"are you sure? what if i suff-" you were cut off by a squeal, wriothesley's large hands grabbed at your ass, shoving you down on his face completely.

wriothesley licks one thick strip up your pussy, from your hole to your clit before his soft lips wrap around the bud and pleasure shoots up your spine.

"o-oh... oh my god..." you moan, your hands grab at the headboard of the bed tightly, your knuckles turning white. you begin to rock your hips lightly, still nervous about hurting your boyfriend.

until wriothesley pulls away, peeking out between your thighs, looking unimpressed. "if you're going to ride my face, fucking ride it." he demands. "use me, i'm all yours, baby." then he dives back into your pussy, slurping obnoxiously.

you hesitate briefly, then think about his words and begin to truly ride his face and crying out loud. your clit bumps deliciously on his nose and his tongue slithers it’s way into your hole.

your hands soon leave the wooden headboard and makes their way down to wriothesley’s inky locks, pulling at the hair. “ah! so good! mmph!”

he groans into your pussy. your slick and his saliva was everywhere. on his nose, his lips, and it was dripping down his chin. god how he loved you, loves your pussy, your tits, and he loved the way you were riding his face so desperately.

“that’s it… that’s my fucking girl…”

୨୧ NEUVILLETTE

❥₊ ⊹ “you’re a messy little thing, aren’t you?” neuvillette chuckled. you were currently sitting half-naked on the edge of his oak desk in the palais mermonia. just wearing your white blouse, your panties and skirt were discarded and thrown somewhere in the room, your bare pussy was dripping on the wood of the desktop.

"you usually don't tease..." you pout, looking down at your husband though his eyes didn't quite meet yours. instead they were trained on your cunt.

"sorry, love." though it doesn't truly sound like he is. neuvillette lowers to face your bare bottom, his lithe fingers come forward and pull apart the lips of your pussy.

"so beautiful..." he mumbles before his tongue meets your clit then travels down to your hole. his tongue thrusts into you and he tastes your slick on it. "so good..." he groans.

neuvillette then starts to eat you out like he's starved. his movements which are usually precise and calculated are now messy, and erratic. you've never quite felt heaven like this and neuvillette hadn't tasted heaven until the first time he ate you out.

your hands thread themselves in his hair as you moan out loud and they pull his head impossibly closer to your core. "oh! mmf!" and you feel tears begin to cloud your vision.

he didn't care that you were making a mess out of him, and he didn't care about how your arousal was all over his desk or all over his face.

though there is a sudden tightness in his pants, and it becomes more and more obvious to him, neuvillette continues to let you use his mouth. to let you reach that orgasm you oh so deserved because he wanted to be the cause of it.

୨୧ AL HAITHAM

❥₊ ⊹ “tsk… you’re such a distraction…” al haitham feigns annoyance. he brings his hands up to your thighs and pries them apart. "can't even read a book in peace around you, can i?"

"ah! 'm sorry... i just really needed you, al haitham." you mumble looking down your body and the view breathtaking.

al haitham had his head leaning against your left thigh, pressing open mouth kisses that were getting closer and closer to where you needed him most. while his left hand was rubbing lazy circles against your puffy clit.

"i can tell... you're dripping on the couch." he sighs. al haitham likes to act like he's bothered, when in reality he had already read that book more then ten times over for a research paper. he was secretly more than happy to please you, though he won't admit that outright.

al haitham leans down and presses a kiss to your pussy, then his lips wrap around your clit and begins to suck on it. he liked to take his time eating you out, to savour it. to savour you. and that meant not making your cunt a sopping mess until you beg him for it. but he won’t tease you all that much today seeing how badly you needed him.

you moan out, one hand of yours coming up and grabbing your own breast. "t-thank you. love you, love you so much al haitham!" you babble.

"love you too, baby..." he murmurs into your pussy. soon, his long fingers meet where his mouth is pleasuring you and they make their way into your little hole, thrusting in and out.

you swallow back a loud sob, remembering you're not entirely alone in your boyfriend's house, as if the sounds of al haitham eating up all your sloppy pussy has to offer isn't loud enough.

al haitham's fingers were making your head spin along with the way his tongue was moving over your clit. his digits were grazing that sweet spot inside of you and the sound of your hiccups only spur him on more.

"please, please! al haitham 'm gonna cum!" you sob.

"do it." he pulls back for a moment, "cum on my face..." then he dives back into your cunt, his tongue and fingers now working overtime to make you orgasm.

your hips begin to grind against his mouth and your chest heaves. "i-i'm cumming! oh my god!" you cry out as you orgasm, hot flashes of white makes it way across your abdomen and you make a mess everywhere. your arousal covered al haitham's face, his hands and your quivering thighs.

"you're so messy..." al haitham says as he moves up to your face.

"sorry..." you apologize.

"don't." he says sharply, not wanting you to feel bad. his lips then meet yours, and you taste yourself on his tongue. "we're going to do that again and this time, you're going to be louder."

flseur © all rights reserved, do not repost, take inspo from my layouts or themes, translate, or claim as your own.

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — RYOMEN SUKUNA. a better man.

about. you’re a girl that’s way out of his league and he’s the bad boy you couldn’t help but fall for. what happens when ryomen sukuna fails to meet you in the middle?

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, suggestive towards the end, no curses!au, modern!au, it’s implied that sukuna is in a gang, mentions of fights, reader is a rich girl, they’re kinda in love :( bad boy!sukuna, fem!reader.

“you’re mad at me. aren’cha?”

sukuna mutters with an air of faux nonchalance as he lazily jogs up the final marble steps that lead up to the restaurant he was supposed to meet you at nearly two hours ago. the evening traffic zips by, red and white headlights parting through the rain to illuminate your boyfriend’s features. heavy water droplets take residence on the slope of his nose and Cupid’s bow, some even daring to cling on to the tips of dusty rose-coloured hair.

if you weren’t so angry right now, you might take a moment to appreciate how good sukuna looks in the moment — especially with the way the rain makes the designer tux you’d gotten for him cling to his skin. exposing every ridge and dip and curve in his muscle while his inky black tattoos become all the more visible.

“of course i’m mad.” you step aside to let sukuna under the shelter of the entrance, avoiding him as he swoops down for his usual hug and kiss. “tonight is important. it was important.”

“babe c’mon on, i was—“

“you were late. they’re serving dessert in there, ryomen.” your tone is coloured with shades of annoyance and a hint of warning. like a mother about to lecture her child. you’re pissed. it’s written all over your face too — in the way that your brows crease and you pout so adorably. he’ll try to play it off, like he doesn’t care, but it almost makes sukuna sick to his stomach to know that you’re angry with him.

the rain picks up outside of the restaurant and you continue. “all you had to do was show up on time. come to this stupid fancy restaurant and be there to meet my parents. but of course, you got yourself caught up in—“ you grab his dress shirt in frustration, noticing the blood on the collar that doesn’t belong to him. his split knuckles and the bruise on his lips. “— in whatever this is.” you roll your eyes, blood boiling.

“it’s nothin’ for you to worry your pretty little head about,” sukuna scoffs, lips spreading wide in his signature smirk. the excuse is lame, but he doesn’t want you to worry for him any longer. “since when did you care about what your parents think, anyways?” but you see it in his eyes, that same old worry. that he’s not good enough for you, that a scumbag like him doesn’t deserve a pretty girl like you. he’s always told you to find someone better, someone able to feed into the glitz and glamour that you were brought up in.

but you’ve always told ryomen sukuna that you have everything you need right there with him.

cupping his face, the heat of anger dispels from your body and you exhale deeply though your nose. “i don’t care about what my parents think. if i did, i wouldn’t be dating you.” you cast a thumb over the thick lines of ink decorating his face, accenting sukuna’s high cheekbones and chiselled features while the rest of your fingers sink into his smooth, dark undercut. “but that doesn’t mean i don’t want you to meet them. they’re just as special to me as you are. i want the most important people in my life to know each other.”

your boyfriend’s hands settle on your wrists as he grunts noncommittally, indicating that he’s aware of his wrong doings. if there’s one thing that sukuna hates, it’s upsetting you. he doesn’t care what the world thinks of him, it’s never mattered before. yet, even the slightest look of disappointment from you has the man in shambles. “‘m sorry,” he drawls, his grip on you shifting down to cup your waist — pulling you flush against him. “what can a guy like me do to make it up to you?”

“you can go on in there and charm the hell out of my rich, uptight parents so that we can hurry up and go home,” your voice lowers an octave as you stand on your tip toes for the extra height so that you can nip at the shell of sukuna’s ear. “where you can rip this dress off’a me.”

“such a dirty mouth for such’a prim ‘n proper girl, hm? i should wash it out with soap.” he purrs right back, leaning down to kiss at your neck until you’ve had enough of his frayed pink hair tickling your skin. he damn near melts when your fingers inch up to tug at his roots — earning a deep and thrilling growl from the man. “that was a dirty move. who taught you that?”

“my good for nothing boyfriend, he’s kind of a bad influence.” you tease back, despite having to physically push sukuna away in order to avoid setting off his inner beast before dinner with your parents is done — and instead, take to grabbing his larger hand in yours so you can lead him from the front of house to your family’s reserved table.

and like always, sukuna trails after you like a lost puppy enamoured with the person that found them, have them love and warmth. because, while you didn’t change him, you made him want to be better — to give up the knives in his back and the bullets looking over his head for something better. something softer.

something like you.

ryomen sukuna wanted to become the someone he thought you deserved.

that’s why he put on this stupid suit and tie, why he let you take his hand, why he follows you to the the table that’s sure to seal his fate with you.

behind all that rough exterior, is a man who loves you.

and in front of sukuna, is a girl who loves him and all of his flaws right back.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[crystallizedday]

That “I warned you” in the tags fr reminds me of

i drew this while watching movies with my boyfriend i hope yall enjoy

[darlingkikki]

omg, late to your ghoap post but au where you’re just crying asking if johnny doesn’t love you or take the relationship seriously because he kissed someone else while ghost is sitting there waiting for his kiss. thinks you’re so pretty hiccuping and crying but damn he wants that kiss already

Warnings: Manipulative Ghost, bitch boy Johnny (lmao but seriously), dubcon (mostly for the illusion of choice but the kiss is consensual)

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

I am in a writing funk but I forced myself to at least explore more of this because I so badly want to but my brain is mush :( (not edited so just focus on the vibes)

initial post linked here

Something dark and insatiable claws at the inside of Ghost’s skull. To repress it, his blunt nails bite into his palms. He watches Johnny’s hands cup your crestfallen face, his expression knotted with the heaviness of remorse. Above the sound of your hiccuping questions, he can just about pick up Johnny’s attempts to soothe your broken heart. 

“Course I love yeh. That hasn’t changed.” 

“Nah, dinnae say that. I did a dumb thing. I’m always doing dumb things. It’s nothin’ to do with yeh.”

“I pushed them away, just not quick enough. I didnae do anything more, I promise.” 

He’s unyielding in holding your gaze. His thumbs trace gentle, methodical circles on your cheeks, wiping away the moisture under your eyes. Selfishly, cruelly, Simon wishes you would stop sobbing already so he can take over. Johnny promised him a kiss from you, so a kiss is what he’ll be leaving with.

You seem to be a gentle, sweet thing so far, even with a pouty frown pulling the corners of your lips downwards. Sensitive too. (What other parts of you share that same description?). A few tears evade Johnny’s thumbs. They roll down the swell of your cheeks. Ghost licks his lips, imagining his tongue following the wet trails down to the collar of your shirt.

Fuck, he needs this kiss bad.

If Johnny is desperate enough for your forgiveness, maybe he can push this further with you. Convince him that a kiss isn’t enough. That you deserve—no, need something more. Johnny will be easy to sway. You, however, he’s still figuring out as Johnny calms you into soft sniffles. 

“There you go, now yer ready to meet my Lt.,” Johnny coos. He steps around you, putting his hands on either side of your face and angling you to look where Ghost has been standing this entire time. “Go on, give me hell Ghost.” 

Fucking finally. Ghost doesn’t respond. He can’t. Not when the sight of you has him sucking in a sharp breath. 

Christ, what a sight you are.

His body moves, driven by greed when you stare at him all confused and teary-eyed. His favorite combination.

“Good finally meetin’ you,” Ghost says. His footsteps are heavy against the wooden floor. He hasn’t even taken his boots off.

Johnny’s fingers tighten to keep you looking straight at Ghost. Like a puppeteer, though it’s clear who has the ultimate hold on the strings. 

“Why is he here?” You ask, trying and failing to turn your head towards Johnny. Nope, not yet. It’s Ghost’s turn now and Johnny bows out of the equation.

Their positions have switched seamlessly, like dancers performing around your body. Or soldiers following a meticulous plan only they are privy to. The smell of alcohol leaves your nostrils, replaced by mint and heady tobacco. It's sense whiplash and your confusion makes for an excellent distraction from your heartache. A distraction Ghost can use to worm his way in.

“I’m here to make it better,” Simon answers after a beat. His eyes are devilishly dark, indistinguishable from a starless night sky. Inky like pools of tar. He says your name with the familiarity of a lover. An undeniable hunger laces his voice and a shudder slithers down your spine. 

Oh yes, he thinks, smirking like a starving lion, you won’t need much convincing. Your reaction speaks volumes. Without waiting for your reply, he continues, “Your boyfriend's hurt you, yeah? You shouldn’t let him get away with it.”

He’s right, you know that. To forgive Johnny would only lead to a forever-repeating cycle of tears and heartache. But what choice did you have now? 

The luxury of choosing for yourself is a privilege these men have taken for themselves. 

Ghost leans in until his lips are just a hair’s breadth away. He’s dangling a carrot in front of your face—the answer to all your pain. 

Johnny's grip on your head loosens. Without it, you'd have forgotten entirely that he was still here, acting as the hard place Ghost urges you towards with a coaxing grasp on your hips, leaving you in his cage and Johnny a willful voyeur. 

He’s tied your neurons in knots, effectively cutting off any chance you have at making a less rash decision. He’s infiltrated your senses and made you his prey. No one could fault you for believing him when he tells you he’ll make it better. Let the warmth of his mouth be a band-aid for your pain and a knife in Johnny’s chest.

"Let me fix it," Ghost whispers, just before his lips are about to claim yours.

It's not a question.

[loveandleases]

so hypothetically, if chris dumps jade in the most embarrassing way possible, and if he begs to the MC for forgiveness, would it be possible to get back with him? and how would cam, kara and gage and our aunt react? and how would jade and our parents react to the news that MC and chris are getting back together?

Nah, the Chris ship has sailed, shoved that sack of shit off the plank and into the deep dark inky abyss. May Cthulhu accept this offering -

Alright, got that out of my system.

❤️ Cam - He would be feeling so many things. Anger, confusion, heartache. This was your chance to be free from Chris, his chance to finally....How could you take Chris back? After everything, he'll even ask MC as much. You deserve better, and Chris never has and never will deserve you. For once in his life, he can't look at you. He can't come to terms with this, losing you again. It will break him.

💙 G - They wouldn't put it past Chris to have manipulated you. That is the only thing that would make sense. G noticed early on when MC and Chris were together, that MC was losing themself. In the relationship, in the way that Chris wanted to be the center of attention. It's something they don't want to see again. Deep down, you have to know Chris will do it again. (They're bitter. so so bitter and hurt, and trying to hide that behind their hate for Chris.)

💚 Kara - Depends, if Kara and MC have been flirting and bridging that gap from friends to more. She would be hurt, how could she not be? But, she wants Chris to be happy and MC. So..maybe the two of them can be happy together, maybe this time you stand a chance. But she doesn't really believe that. She would be cheering you on, but her support is empty. That hurts her even more.

😇 Em - Hell no. Nope, not happening on her watch. Em was never a fan of Chris, and clearly MC hit their head or something. There is no way this is a good idea. She will sit MC down, have a long chat. I mean hours spent reminding you each time Chris put off seeing you for work, especially in those last few months. When Chris was spending time with Jade, and you were happily waiting to show them the venue for your wedding.

💀 Jade - Oh, what's this? You can't find someone on your own? (Jade's a hypocrite) You're so desperate that you would take Chris back after everything? It's bad enough Chris cheated on you, but even worse now. Wow, talk about no self respect.

👥 MC's parents - Oh...well..this is awkward. They want to support Chris, I mean the fact they're a Clarke and...well what they really mean to say is that you two have so much history. Years, so you should be happy. But what's this? Jade's upset. Did you break them up? You would really do that to your sister after everything she has done for you? Helping raise your dog, helping Chris through the breakup and falling for them. How could you do this to her!?

[brainddeadd]

Reader dating Jack and Quinn thinks he could treat her better

the request

The night air was cool, the stars distant pinpricks of light in the inky sky. You stood on the porch, leaning against the wooden railing, the quiet calm of the evening settling over you. Jack had left a while ago, and Luke was busy with work. You thought you were alone.

Until you heard footsteps behind you.

Quinn stepped out onto the porch, his eyes shadowed but intense as he looked at you. There had always been something different about his gaze, something simmering beneath the surface, though he had never said a word. Until now.

"You're too good for this," Quinn said quietly, leaning beside you. His voice was low, and you could hear the strain in it.

You frowned, not understanding at first. "What do you mean?"

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, his frustration finally breaking free. "Jack. He don’t deserve you. And I hate saying that because he's my brother, but… you deserve more than this back-and-forth. More than his games."

His words hit you like a punch, and for a moment, you were speechless. You had always known Quinn cared, but you never expected him to say it out loud. "Quinn…"

He turned to face you, stepping closer, his eyes locking onto yours. "I’ve watched you for so long, giving everything to him, and I can’t stand it anymore. He doesn't see what he has—what you’re worth. But I do." His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, and you could feel the weight of everything he’d been holding back.

Your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond. The tension between you both had always been there, but now it felt like a tidal wave crashing over you. "Quinn, you’re his brother…"

"I know," he interrupted, stepping even closer until you could feel the warmth of his body near yours. "But that doesn’t change how I feel. I could treat you better, love you better than he ever could. And I would."

Your breath caught, torn between the guilt of hearing this from him and the undeniable pull you felt. He reached for your hand, his touch hesitant but firm, his eyes pleading. "Just say the word, and I’ll walk away if that’s what you want. But… if there’s even a part of you that feels the same, just tell me."

[crabs-with-sticks]

Trick Q+A on the solavellan ending

Haven't seen this going around much, I'm guessing because it was originally posted when everybody had their veilguard spoiler defenses up. But I did find it interesting.

Trick is answering some questions over on Bluesky and here are the questions and answers decoded from the rot13 cipher. Hopefully this provides more clarity and eases people's anxieties here and we can move forward in a more positive light with discussions: Q: Will where Solas and Inky end up in the Fade be strictly regret-themed or will her joining and their love influence it into something a bit less bleak (hence the specific elven phrasing)? rooting for my girl not to be in fade jail A: She's speaking both romantically and literally. It won't be terrible if they're in there together. Q: In the Solavellan ending, it says that Solas is Lavellan's true love. I know you've said she represents his future, but do you think she's his true love also? A: Yes. We framed it the way we did because the Inquisitor was your character last game, and because some people, we imagined, were doing this to give the Inquisitor the happy ever after she deserved, not Solas. Q: Did solas just Fade-mail it to her and it appeared? A: Inky and Morrigan have their ways. Q: Could you please tell us, if it is possible, why it was only Mythal's words that allowed Solas to stop this train of endless regrets from rolling into the abyss? I'm sorry, but it seemed too easy to me after so many centuries. Perhaps I don't understand the core of their relationship. A: That's what he needed to hear. Not because he loved Mythal more, but because she was the reason everything went wrong. She, the past, tells him to let go of all the mistakes of the past. And then the Inquisitor he wanted to be with is there to show him a better future. Q: Does Solas love Lavellan as much as he loves Mythal? I know Mythal is kinda all things to him- leader, oldest friend, maybe lover, and that's hard to overcome. On the other hand, his love for Lavellan seems less all-consuming, but purer. Anyway, love to hear your thoughts! A: Mythal is his past, where he made terrible mistakes. A romanced Lavellan is a bright future he doesn't think he deserves until he fixes all of those past mistakes. Q: When Solas tells Lavellan that the place he is going is terrible, where exactly sre they going? Back to the regret prison or somewhere else? A: The implication is that he's going back to the prison, and now that he'll be working to try to heal the blight while he's there.

Source (its to a reddit thread not the actual original quotes, and I'm going to trust that they did their due diligence because I don't have the energy to do it myself lol)

[scoobysnakz]

part 2 of dbf miguel. so sorry this took so long, accidentally deleted the draft like twenty times.

The TV hums softly as a random sitcom you've not gotten the chance to see yet flickers across the screen. You know you should turn it off, it's distracting you from completing your essay, one you've been procrastinating about finishing, but the background noise is comforting enough to let you keep it on, even if you'll have to rewatch it all later.

“Need help with that?”

You jump at the sudden noise, pen now clattering on the floor and rolling dangerously close to the sofa. You look up at where the voice came from, only to be met with a freshly shaven Miguel.

Embarrassment burns the back of your neck as you shift on the plush cushion of the sofa. The only thing covering the crinkled page of your otherwise barren notebook is an array of flowers around the margin and random notes scribbled out in heavy, blotchy lines.

“Am fine,” you smile, fingers spreading out to hide your work, or lack of.

Miguel just scoffs at you before pushing your hand away. “Such detailed notes,” he chides.

“It's meant to be an essay, but thanks anyway.”

You hear him stifle a laugh that you pray is sympathetic and not as amused as it sounds. It's shameful how far behind you are on your schoolwork when you have someone peering over your shoulder.

You aren't quite sure why you're so pent up on impressing Miguel, a man who is staying at his friend's house for some unbeknownst reason.

He sits down on the sofa next to you, a respectful distance but you can still smell his overbearing cologne and hair gel fusion. The sofa sinks slightly at his weight, a low creak eminating through the room.

He laughs, “let me help.”

Irritation bubbles deep in your stomach but you try to push it away, ignore it and keep going with the conversation. But when he acts so casual, even though he's stolen your bedroom, your only haven in this monstrosity of a household, you can’t help but feel annoyed with him.

“I doubt it,” you quip with an air of ignorance, fingers drumming erratically on the inky pages, “this is biology, aren't you like a chemist or something?”

A smirk curls at the corner of his lips at your sudden attitude, but he doesn't comment on it, leaving your opinion of him more distasteful than ever. “Well my degree says organic chemistry and molecular biology, so you're both wrong and right.”

“Mmm, so either, you're loaded, or up to your neck in debt.” you don't even try to hide the snark in your voice, “considering the fact that you’re staying here, I'm guessing student loan got the better of you.”

He scoffs at you, hand clasped to his chest in feigned hurt. “I'll have you know, I have a well-paying job, thank you very much.”

You flip your notebook shut, a small sense of relief washing over you now that disgrace of an essay is hidden, and shift to face him. “Then why are you here?”

He swallows, hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. His gaze flickers between your face and the wall behind you, discomfort colouring his expression. The atmosphere of the room shifts entirely, and suddenly you feel guilty for hating him. Maybe he didn't mean to take your room, not on purpose anyway.

“I lost my house, not… not because of money or anything,” he pauses, plush lips pursed into a tight grimace before he continues, “didn't get a very good divorce lawyer.”

“I'm… sorry?” you've never been good at sympathy, always pushed the hard topic of emotions onto someone else so you can focus on something you're actually good at. But now, some weird part of you wants to comfort him.

“Hmm?” he looks back at your eyes, your breath catching in your throat, “Not your fault, querida, I was a silly man who did silly things. I made a mistake and lost the love of my life.”

“Don't say that.” you hate the way your voice softens. You want to keep this burning resentment for Miguel, loathe him for all eternity, it might seem petty but he deserves it. Yet, you want to pull him close, tell him to stop being so hard on himself and run your fingers through his hair until his jaw unclenches.

He shakes his head, casually, as if it was never that important.

“I couldn't stay faithful and I paid the price, she has everything she deserves leaving me with… nothing.”

An awkward silence fills the room. You don't know what to say to that other than, I take back my kindness and spit in your face for cheating on your wife.

“She was amazing, so full of life, and then one day… we just stopped clicking,” he leans back against the sofa, head craning back so that he's forced to stare at the yellowing ceiling, “it wasn't a spur of the moment, because I got bored thing. We had stopped loving each other, she had anyway.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing against his much more calloused, harsh ones causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. You give his hand a gentle squeeze that lasts a little longer than intended, but the sweetness of the action doesn't go unnoticed.

The upbeat theme tune from the TV suddenly blares out from the speakers causing the two of you to startle. Your fingers tighten around his on instinct but you immediately pull your hand away.

Miguel chuckles a low, mellow sound that makes your ears perk up. “Sat on the remote,” he says, pulling it from under his thigh.

“Scared the shit out of me, Migs- Miguel,” you breathe heavily.

He nods, smiling uneasily, praying that the hammering of his heart is from the sudden shock and not from the kindness you displayed. But deep down, he knows the truth.

prev <

[sky--phantom]

Trespasser! 🫡

btw, pls don't hold the hair clipping against me 😅 this is her hairstyle, and I liked the outfit too much to change it because of the neck.

Also, warning, I ended up rambling at the end 😅

Lavellan when she spots Solas and the Viddasala

I don't know why but this one just seems so funny to me out of context 😂 like, "honey, you know that thing you told me not to do?"

Solas as Lavellan talks about how she discovered he's the Dread Wolf. I don't know how to describe this expression, sad, fond, proud? I think there would be a "Solas approves" here tho 🥲

"What is the old Dalish curse? “May the Dread Wolf take you”?"

"And so he did" (this is the other line that kills me)

They closed their eyes and lowered their heads at the same second during the "I would not have you see what I become". These two angsty mfs

(Though judging by how Solas' bags in DAV + that bit told in the GI article, she wasn’t exactly wrong to say "I cannot bear to think of you alone")

The Anchor flares up

"Solas, var lath vir suledin"

"I wish it could, vhenan."

the kiss 😢

It kills me how he brushes her hair back, and then holds her face. He also holds her hand with his other one.

They both just look so fking wrecked during this kiss.

And then he leaves 😞

now to wait for their next meeting in DAV 🥲

I still can't believe that, besides his visits to her dreams (which I think is probably a whole other post), this is the last time they meet. Pretty sure DAV is 8 years after this.

This was devastating. Both of them are wrecked, this is not what they want, but it's the path Solas has chosen to walk through. It hurts because falling in love with Lavellan is probably one of the few times in a while that Solas has done something just for himself, not for the cause, not for the people, but Solas

("The blame is mine, not yours. It was irresponsible and selfish of me") ("Because I made a selfish mistake. Because you deserve better"),

and he has to break it off. No matter how Lavellan and the other members of the Inquisition have helped him see people as, you know, people, this is a mission he has set for himself, something he believes he has to do, his duty.

(Also, I forgot to mention it during the Crestwood post, but it hurts when he stops saying vhenan and changes to Inquisitor)

So, Solas drags his feet, walking slowly, but still walks away from Lavellan and towards the eluvian. He walks away from the person who fell in love with him when he was just Solas, and walks towards the path where he is Fen'Harel, the god of rebellion who has tried to help his people, even if it doesn't turn out well.

He leaves behind a Lavellan whose heart is breaking for the 3rd time because of the same man, who has to deal with what happens with the Inquisition (mine disbanded with the angry option), and the loss of an arm. Also, you know, dealing with the fact that he is an elven god and wants to destroy the veil.

So, yeah...

Sorry that this got a bit very rambly 😅 I just finished the game a little over 2 weeks ago, and there are a lot of thoughts running around my head.

I'm looking forward to seeing what happens with Solas in DAV, and how the Inquisitor will be integrated into the game as well. (side note, I'm so curious about that, bc they haven't even mentioned if the Inky CC will have the same options as Rook) (I just want to know if there are prosthetics and if they can have body tattoos)

These are more general, just thought they were pretty

[another-lost-mc]

kisses on the battlefield | solomon x reader

cw: sfw. hurt/comfort. descriptions of canon-typical violence. light angst with a happy ending. gn!reader (referred to as mc, they/them pronouns). wc: 1.7k+

“No, I won't go,” Solomon argued with Diavolo, a large map on the table between them. He was already on edge from the looming danger waiting for them all on the horizon; he wasn't convinced you would be safe if he left you now. He looked to Barbatos for support, but the demon's unreadable expression made him feel even worse about this plan.

You were assigned leadership over the group of witches and wizards sent by the Sorcerer’s Society. You shared an apprehensive look with him as you crossed paths outside the tent. You both wanted to linger, to stay and share one more farewell (in addition to the hurried moments you shared earlier that day), but there wasn't anymore time.

Solomon practically threw his hands up in the air and spun on his heel so he could follow you, Diavolo's orders be damned. He knew the human sorcerers were responsible for defending the eastern quadrant—he'd find you and keep you safe. That was his intention, until Barbatos blocked his way and Diavolo called his name behind him.

Solomon snarled in frustration as he turned back to the demon prince. "The reapers don't need me. Let me pass."

But Barbatos was unmoving, and Diavolo shook his head. “The reapers need your help repairing the damage to the seal that allowed this to happen. We need to stop the hostile force here, before the three realms descend into chaos. Your pacts should give you the additional reinforcements you need.”

With a few exceptions, of course—Asmodeus and Barbatos were both needed elsewhere, and Solomon knew he wouldn't be able to summon them.

Solomon gritted his teeth. "Fine, then I'll bring MC with me. They can assist with repairing the seal." And I can keep an eye on them myself.

Diavolo sighed heavily, and Solomon saw something vulnerable in his eyes, something that looked like regret. “MC is too important to our defenses. The human sorcerers need someone to lead them that they can trust in your place. They're also the only one capable of empowering the Avatars of Sin to bolster our ranks, should we need them to."

Diavolo understood Solomon’s hesitancy. He had a similar conversation with you, privately, before Solomon arrived. You were equally torn about being separated from him and facing the unknown dangers alone. You took less convincing to go along with Diavolo's plan—you knew this was the best course of action, even if you didn't like it.

Unfortunately, there was no guarantee Diavolo could make to you that Solomon would return unscathed while he assisted the reapers with their task. Likewise, there was no promise Diavolo could make to Solomon that even if he returned, you would be unharmed.

“You have my word that I will do everything in my power to keep MC safe,” Diavolo told him seriously. It was the best the demon prince could offer to appease Solomon's doubts, but the oath tasted like ash on his tongue.

Barbatos glanced at Diavolo knowingly behind the sorcerer's back, and the unspoken truth hung between them: Solomon would become their enemy too, should they fail to protect you.

Solomon realized he had little choice. He told himself that he would do this for you, because you deserved better than a future torn apart by war and death. He uttered a curse under his breath and glared venomously at Diavolo before he disappeared.

Solomon and the reapers finally sealed the magical tear that allowed the eldritch beasts to invade from the farthest reaches of the cosmos. He went to the battlefield to find you as soon as Thirteen assured him that their task was complete.

He expected to find you on the eastern front with the other sorcerers, but all he found there was the aftermath of carnage. The ground was broken and scorched by flame and it ran wet with odd, inky-black blood. He realized quickly that the largest battle must've been fought here and his blood froze in his veins.

He finally stumbled on some lingering demons and human sorcerers that were helping evacuate the remaining survivors. As soon as they mentioned a healers' camp set up near RAD, he teleported immediately to the Devildom.

Solomon recognized the battle-weary faces of his demon and angel and human acquaintances when he arrived, but he couldn't bear to stop until he found you.

His heart clenched with equal parts hope and worry when he finally spotted Asmodeus and Simeon speaking together near one of the tents. They both greeted him with relieved expressions despite their dirtied faces and ripped clothing, stained with mud and gore.

"It's good to see you," Simeon said, clasping his shoulder.

Solomon didn't have time for pleasantries. "I just arrived. Where's MC?"

Asmo shook his head. "They're fine. Lucifer and Mammon took them to one of the tents back there," he said, pointing to a small cluster of tents close to the RAD building.

Solomon tried to push past him, but Asmo grabbed his arm. He didn't flinch when Solomon bared his teeth angrily at him. "Let me go."

"Wait," Asmo urged him quietly. "MC's mostly unharmed, but Solomon it was—it was bad."

Icy dread flooded his body all over again. "Tell me."

Diavolo snapped the would-be assassin's neck in his grasp before he flung the limp corpse aside. Not far from him, Barbatos eviscerated an enemy with a slash from the glinting dagger in his hand.

"I don't like this," Lucifer muttered at his side. Diavolo nodded and peered around. The demon army was anxiously waiting, but the invasion they anticipated was nowhere to be seen. He trusted Thirteen's information that the dark, otherworldly threat had broken through the realms' defenses, so where—?

"My lord," Barbatos breathed, staring at something behind him in the distance.

Diavolo turned as a bright red flare shot into the dark sky. Another flare followed, and another, and another after that, until the sky was littered with dozens of fiery wisps of magic. It was a signal to warn the other defensive positions that the intruders were spotted, and they all came from the east.

The wind carried the shrill, foreign language of nightmare creatures as small portals appeared across the battlefield and the monstrous entities charged through and finally began their attack.

In an instant, another large, dark portal opened above the area where you and your fellow sorcerers were stationed. The ground shook as something shot from the portal and engulfed the eastern battlefield in purple flames and black smoke.

Oh, no.

Lucifer grunted at Diavolo's side and suddenly disappeared as the power of your pact summoned him to you. Barbatos was already redirecting forces to aid the human defenders, but Diavolo felt dread pool in his stomach. He took off in flight and slashed at everything in his path, hoping they weren't too late.

Solomon paused outside your tent when he heard Mammon's familiar voice within; he sounded exasperated.

"I don't care whatcha say, Satan says you gotta rest," the Greed demon lectured you.

"Mammon, I promise, I'm okay—"

The ice in Solomon's heart cracked when he finally heard your voice.

You were alive.

"Yeah, we'll see 'bout that. How many fingers am I holdin' up?"

"...three?"

Mammon scoffed. "Lucky guess."

Solomon couldn't wait anymore. He pulled the flap aside and poked his head inside the tent. Mammon was holding three fingers in front of your face, and you were trying to push his hand away. Your face lit up with recognition when they both looked to see who had arrived.

"Look, your boyfriend can talk some sense into ya. I'll see about getting you somethin' to eat." Mammon paused when he was passing Solomon on his way out and leaned towards him. "MC got hit by some type of curse, they were real dizzy for a while. Satan thinks it's worn off, but they need to take it easy. Got it?"

Solomon stared at you but nodded slowly. As soon as Mammon left the tent, he stepped towards your cot in something like a trance. He sat on the edge of the bed and glanced down when you grabbed both his hands in yours.

"I am so happy to see you," you breathed. Your smile trembled and tears dotted your lash line.

Solomon held your hands for a moment before he rested them on your lap and cupped your cheeks instead. He cradled your face in his hands so gently. He didn't know what to say. Words failed him—he was overwhelmed by the possibility of losing you earlier, and now by the relief you were here really here.

His eyes roamed your face desperately, drinking in the sight of you—a battle-worn version of you, perhaps—but in this moment, you were everything to him. He didn't know how to put his feelings for you into words, so he leaned forward and kissed you instead.

You made a surprised noise against his lips, but your fingers grasped weakly at the tattered sleeves of his coat and you drew him even closer. It was less of a kiss and more of a desperate press of your chapped lips against his, but you felt his warm breath fan across your skin and savoured the familiar taste of him on your tongue. It was comforting proof that he was alive—that you both were.

Solomon's body trembled so much it shook the rackety bed you were in, and he broke the kiss with a sob. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, the words raspy with so many emotions. "I never should've left you."

You shook your head and the corners of your lips twitched upward. "I'm grateful that I had such a good teacher," you joked, but it sounded flat to your ears when your tired voice betrayed you.

He leaned forward and buried another sob into the crook of your neck. He crushed your body to his and he hoped the salty tears on your skin and his arms wrapped tightly around you conveyed everything he felt for you—

—he won't ever leave you, and nothing in the three realms or beyond will ever hurt you ever again—

—but all his strangled voice could manage to croak out was a broken, "I love you."

You closed your eyes and smoothed your fingers through his hair, damp with sweat and dirty from the battlefield. His arms squeezed you even tighter, and you smiled despite the tears rolling down your cheeks. "I love you too."

read more: solomon masterlist | obey me! masterlist

[ryuzakemo128]

CW: Depressive thoughts, suicide ideation, self-esteem problems, reader has a strongwoman physique and at least 6'4 or taller, reader has a deep voice, Reader is referred to as Boomer, existentialism, nihilism, strongwoman! reader, australian! female reader.

How does one interact with a community if they get ignored?

Am I not worth talking to?

What does it mean to be alive when no one wants to even talk to you?

Am I really that intimidating?

Am I really that scary?

What have I done to scare them away from me?

Am I broken?

What have I done to deserve this?

I doubt they knew I even existed before.

That’s how it goes right?

Unless you fit the mould of what they find attractive.

I will most likely get overlooked in comparison to the other women I see them talk to.

What’s the point of even trying?

Does it even matter?

Do I even matter?

Am I born to die alone?

I wish I was soft.

I wish I was delicate.

I wish I was feminine enough.

I wish I was dead.

Parts of me wants to just die.

They tell me ‘You’ll find someone someday’ but that day will never come.

Born to suffer in isolation.

Born to perish alone in the dark.

I look in the mirror and all I see back at me is the reason people don’t or probably don’t find me attractive.

You were used to being overlooked now. Not that it didn’t hurt. Not that you didn’t hurt from it.

Depression is hard to tackle when all you have is you, yourself and the demon in the back of your skull feeding into your doubt.

You felt like a burden. A giant one at that.

You had the weight of the world on your shoulders, and it was all too much.

You had tried reaching out to people, but they always had an excuse not to hang out, not to talk. It was like you were invisible.

You were a ghost in your own life, haunting the places you once felt alive in, but now you were just a shadow of the person you used to be.

“Boomer, you’re overthinking things again.” A deep voice came from the shadows. As you sat in the bar alone, contemplating leaving to eat alone at the diner.

You paid for the drinks you had, getting your Pokémon themed backpack. Which had your essentials like your wallet, car keys, etc. Tucked deep inside it.

Childish, much like the rest of me.

Pathetic.

Gross.

Disgusting.

Who am I to think anyone would like me in that way?

I want to go home.

I want to be ten years old.

I desire to be a child once more, consequently, subsequently, accordingly.

We’re All Gonna Die.

I don’t want to have to mull over on the subject of this useless shit piling up inside my head.

We’re All Gonna Die.

Questions of pity, the ‘are you ok?’  

It would be better if they just told me to die.

Who are you?

What are you?

Price's gaze locks onto yours for a brief moment as you hover by the door, and there's something in his eyes that makes you freeze.

It's not just the recognition, but a flicker of something else.

Maybe curiosity? Pity? You can't tell.

Before you can retreat into the comforting void of inky black, Soap's arm shoots out, grabbing you by the wrist, and pulls you back to the bar.

Says, “Hey, lass,” he says with a grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes, “you don't mind if we take your spot, do ya?”

Well you do enough talk, My little hawk, why do you cry?

We’re All Gonna Die.

“It wasn't mine to begin with.” You answered.

Ownership.

Possession.

What does it mean to own something all to yourself?

You've never truly owned anything in your life.

Everything you had was borrowed or given to you out of pity.

Even your life felt like it didn't belong to you.

The grip on your wrist is firm, but not painful. Soap's eyes search yours, as if looking for something you're not quite sure you want him to find.

“You alright?” he asks, his Scottish accent thick and comforting.

You nod, not trusting your voice to be steady.

Ghost, ever the stoic, simply nods in your direction, his mask hiding his expression, but you can feel his gaze on you.

Gaz, on the other hand, seems to be in his own world, tinkering with something in his pocket, probably a piece of gear.

“Peachy.” you answered, tired of the same question of 'Are you ok?' and the 'It's ok, everyone feels like that sometimes'.

As if feeling completely numb is normal.

As if being depressed isn't a mental illness.

You haven't been able to talk about without the comments of 'You're just sad' or 'You're just feeling down'.

They're right, you are feeling down. But you're not sad. You're just tired.

Tired of trying.

Tired of hoping.

Tired of living.

Tired of pretending.

Tired of the lies.

Tired of the façade.

You felt like a chameleon in a room full of zebras.

Their presence was like a beacon in the stormy sea of your solitude.

Did you get enough love, my little dove, why do you cry?

Was your heart not enough for them?

Why do I bother trying?

We’re All Gonna Die.

The words echo in your mind as you stand there, unsure of what to do next. The weight of your own thoughts is almost too much to bear.

You decided to leave them to the women in pastel and good looks. You weren't wanted now.

Shall we look at the moon, my little loon, why do you cry?

Price's gaze lingers for a moment longer before he nods. The three men seem to sense the tension, and an awkward silence fills the surrounding space.

It's as if they're waiting for you to leave, to go back to the shadows where they found you.

You left silently crying.

Why was the point of living now?

To serve a purpose that you had been assigned.

To be something more than the invisible monolith you perceived yourself to be.

The burning in your throat of your crying and silent heaving breaths.

As you headed to the safe house instead after seeing the diner you hoped to go to was now closed for the evening.

Soap decided in a huff of anger, frustration and concern he's had enough of this. He spotted you looking disappointed that the diner wasn't open now.

He knew that look.

That sad, defeated look.

It was the same one you had when you were told that your pet had passed away.

The same look you had when you were told you're not good enough.

The same look when you were told you're a waste of space.

The same look when you were told you're not worth the air you breathe.

Soap's voice cut through the night air, “Where are you headed, lass?”

“I don't know.” you answered.

You were lost.

Lost in the sea of darkness.

Lost in the abyss of your thoughts.

You wipe at the tears that had escaped down your cheeks, smearing your makeup.

Soap remembered seeing you in the safe house, like a giant phantom towering over others with ease.

He knew you were strong, resilient even. He also knew that everyone had their breaking point.

And it seemed like you were dangerously close to yours.

[natimiles]

OMG NATI I JUST SAW UR EVENT!!! congrats :D u deserve these and so many more!! If I may, can I request william (ikevil) + kissing the tip of the nose?

OMG INKY, HIII! Thaaank yoouuu! You’re so sweet 😭🤧

I might’ve used the fact I know that you love pet names against you (again), ASHUEHSAEIA.

William + Tip of the nose

Words: 411

Tags: established relationship; pet names; no pronouns for reader.

Sitting on the bed, William leans against the headboard, quietly reading while you finish your work. However, he quickly finds his attention drawn to you, his book forgotten on his lap.

His crimson eyes are fixed on you, intently observing every little thing his darling little robin does. He notices how you type faster now than when you first came to Crown, how you bite your lip in concentration, how you mumble when you want to find the perfect word to write down, and how your eyes shine when you find it.

He sees you organizing the pages, which means you’re done and will turn around to look at him. He keeps watching you, wanting to see the endearing reaction you’ll let out when you realize his eyes have been on you for a long time.

When you finish everything, you turn around in your chair, expecting to see William reading or even sleeping, given how quiet he’s been for the last few minutes. What a surprise when you see him looking right at you.

“Oh, hey!” you can’t help but let out a surprised sound, blinking in confusion. Then you open a shy smile, your head tilting to the side. “How long have you been staring?”

“Hmm… I wonder,” he grins, amused. “If you’re done, come here with me, my love.”

“I am!” you reply excitedly.

William doesn’t have much time to close his book and place it on the nightstand because you practically race to him. You throw yourself on him, and he holds you tight while falling sideways with you in his arms. Your giggles are music to his ears, and he joins in with his own.

You suddenly lean forward and place a kiss on the tip of his nose, and he’s the one caught by surprise this time. He is more than amused by your display of affection, though.

“My, my! What an enthusiastic little robin I have,” he smiles widely.

“I’m happy to be here with you.” 

He brings his hand to your hair, brushing it out of your face to take a better look at you. His fingers slide back to your nape, and he holds you in place, so this time he can be the one giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose. His heart is full of fondness and love for you — he wonders if you know how you have him wrapped around your finger.

“Me too, my love.”

Beneath The Milky Twilight ♥ Event Masterlist