#The Forlorn Order

[vikingcarrot]

Ilsalie, Brett, Flynn and Viverc of the Forlorn Order, AD.

[consequencesofargentdawn]

The Forlorn Order seems to have fallen into a slowly decaying PCU Satellite guild. The same few toxic members drive away any that might want to join them on longer terms, and they're all eager to circle-jerk any little RP interaction they have on Twitter.

Several of the founding members seem to leech off into other pursuits once they fall out of favor with the toxic core.

Curious, though not entirely unexpected. Likeminded sorts the Forlorn Order are with buddies inside the PCU it is no surprise then that they have fallen into the dependency trap with them.

[houseswife]

appreciation for the sheer melancholic fondness in wilson’s gaze at house during what he knows is the last normal interaction they’ll ever have; during the final comparatively trivial rant in which they don’t both have to pretend the world isn’t collapsing beneath their feet

[thegoldenavenger]

Tmi (too much medical information) but the human body is so weird

I go from sweating so much there is a literal puddle on the bathroom floor and vomiting up like a party size soda bottle worth of liquefied snacks, stomach quivering from pain

To being vaguely warm and pleasantly sleepy.

I'm perfectly content, if worried I will be Struck With Pain. The only thing that would be better is if it were raining again

[grimbiliah]

I don’t remember if it was NADDPOD or some other piece of media that put the idea in my mind that the circles of hell represented the deadly sins, but I was thinking about it recently for a dnd campaign I’m running and realized it dnd make sense because there are 7 sins and 9 circles.

The main reason I was thinking about this was because in said campaign the players have a necklace with a big gemstone on it in which lived an evil wizard who can’t leave. He’s been in there for a while, and some things have changed while he’s been trapped.

So after I had this realization about the circles and the sins I thought it would be really funny if the wizard remembers their being 7 circles for the 7 sins and is baffled by the fact that their are 9 circles now.

“What, did they add 2 sins? Is murder and larceny bad now?”

I don’t actually know what the two extra sins would be, so lmk if you have a funny idea.

[steelycunt]

for the record i agree with u completely but pls elaborate on ur forlorn gansey feelings if you're so inclined <3

HI OMG !! god i wish i had my copies of the books with me rn so i could refer back to them because i feel like without them im about to say sooo much without saying anything at all like my thoughts are so shallow and half formed but just like...god. his wholeee search for glendower there is smthn so utterly forlorn tragic melancholy behind it and behind his obsession with it and behind his sense of duty towards it and behind how much of his life and his purpose and his being he hinges on the result of it. especially when it ends up dissolving into practically nothing in front of him. AGAIN wishing i had the books but like thinking of uhh i think whelk's?? description?? of him being smthn like strange, desperate gansey. and the bit where its like gansey clung to the possibility that his king would explain the intricacies of gansey to gansey. his fear of having to confront and define who he is as a person and what his purpose is outside his search for glendower...which is at least part of what keeps him so devoted to it...and like. between his supposed responsibility towards that and his responsibility (as he sees it) to looking after his friends all of whom have problems of their own all thats left for himself is like. sitting alone on the floor at like three am painting little carboard models of henrietta. IDK at the end of the day hes just this weird desperate little guy hes kind of fucked up he's like one of those sharks that die if they stop swimming and he knows it and thats why hes gotta keep looking for this dead welsh king and never ever think about what'll happen afterwards so that he never ever ever stops swimming because once he does....

[lord-squiggletits]

Mmm one of the amazing things about IDW Optimus is that he feels like a real person to me. And imo, that's because instead of being portrayed as this universally benevolent and kind leader who always has a noble response to everything... He actually reacts to stress and makes bad decisions and loses his cool a lot of the time. It's just sad because almost, if not every time IDW OP does something "jerkish," there's literally a perfectly logical reason behind why he would feel/react the way he did, except the fandom either simplifies it to "he's an asshole" or straight up repeats/believes in outright misinterpretation or ignorance of the actual facts of the story. :/

But annoying fandom takes aside, I do just feel like... It's not that the "quietly sad, forlorn, lonely Optimus" characterization is bad, because IDW OP is very much like that too. I just think that his anger and righteousness and fuck-ups make him much more endearing because... I feel like I'm stating the obvious, but it's because real people are complicated. Real people aren't always diplomatic and kind. Real people snap under stress and lash out. Real people get into arguments with others about how far they're willing to go for their beliefs. Real people make mistakes and/or have backgrounds that haunt them for the rest of their lives.

And quite frankly, I think it's cool as fuck how IDW Optimus has some bite to him when he interacts with others. For example, I like it when IDW OP gets pissed at Dai Atlas for leaving Cybertron and abandoning the war (Monstrosity) because his anger and frustration reveals things about him. How much he cares about Cybertron as their homeland. How much pressure he feels to be a perfect leader and protect everyone. His bravery and responsibility making him feel that the right thing to do is fight for what's left, not cut their losses and leave. Also Dai Atlas is a hypocritical cunt and I will stand by this as far as his actions during the Metzen trilogy lmao, but that's besides the point.

But what I'm saying is that that conflict with other characters reveals things about Optimus' character: his history, regrets, values, goals. And if you reduce those complicated actions to just "he's an asshole", or outright ignore/remove them as fandom tends to do, what you end up with is a flattened character. A character having a strong personality/motivations/beliefs/etc necessarily means that they have conflict with others. Conflict is what makes stories interesting. IDW Optimus has conflicts with others and with himself and that's why he's cool as fuck. Because I came into IDW expecting just, "oh Optimus is the cool leader guy, he's iconic, he's heroic" and what I actually got was a character who's all of those things, but also conflicted, tragic, and controversial in relation to the people and environments he's surrounded by.

Because what some people think is "being an asshole" is what I'd rather call "having perfectly understandable emotional reactions under the given circumstances and ending up conflicting with people because that's how life works."

[its3nvy]

"Wear the hat, ride the cowboy" Billy the Kid

Summary: After drawing the wrong kind of attention at the saloon, Billy comes to your rescue. Having to pretend to be his for the night, which leads to a ‘wear the hat, ride the cowboy’ situation ;) 

Tags/warnings: mdni (18+), porn with no plot, angst, size kink, riding cock, overstimulation, fingering, breeding kink, creampie, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, slight knife kink

Note : This is my first time ever writing smut and I haven't edited it a lot so this should be fun. (Tell me if it's good or not pls)

tags: f!reader, smut

word count: 3.7k

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Curiosity led you to the local saloon one evening, where Billy often engaged in poker games. The air inside was thick with the smoky residue of cigars, and the occasional clinking of glasses underscored the distant melody of a forlorn piano. As you pushed through the creaking doors, your presence hung in the air, drawing the gaze of rough patrons whose eyes bore into you with a kind of familiarity you had never known. Unaccustomed to the bold gazes and suggestive comments that swirled around you like a threatening storm, you sought refuge at the bar. A man behind it was taking someone’s order.

You looked around, your eyes finally found Billy's familiar frame, surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke, engaged in a high-stakes poker game.

“Hello, darlin’,” a drunken man stumbled toward you.

“Hello, sir,” you gave him a small smile, trying to avoid his intense stare.

He leaned against the bar to keep his balance. “Come on, darling, don’t be such a prude. Talk to me.” His hand reached up, attempting to caress your face.

From afar, you saw Billy, his eyes—usually mischievous and full of life—met yours with a fleeting recognition. Without uttering a word, he rose from his chair, his cowboy boots echoing a heavy cadence on the worn wooden floor.

The drunken man's intrusive advances persisted, his slurred words creating an uncomfortable tension. "Don’t play hard to get, honey. I can show you a good time," he insisted, his hand becoming more insistent. Ignoring the drunkard, you turned back to the bar, hoping for intervention. The man persisted, his persistence turning aggressive. As his hand encroached upon your personal space, a shadow fell over you. 

Billy's presence loomed, his gaze colder than the steel of his revolver. Without a word, he grabbed the man's hand, his grip firm and unyielding. “Leave her alone," Billy's voice cut through the clamor of the saloon, his words echoing with a subtle menace.

The tension escalated, a palpable undercurrent surging through the room. The patrons, sensing the imminent storm, shifted uneasily. Billy's eyes held yours, a silent reassurance amid the brewing chaos. The drunk man, now confronted by the notorious gunslinger, stumbled backward, a mixture of recognition and fear contorting his expression. With a final warning glare from Billy, he slinked away into the crowd.

Billy turned towards you, his eyes softening as if to assure you that the storm had passed. 

"What in the hell are ya doin’ here?", he murmured, his tone both gruff and concerned as he reached you, seizing your hand and guiding you to the quiet side of the room. "I needed to go out, Billy," you replied, your voice carrying a note of defiance and desperation.

He hissed, a trace of irritation etching lines across his rugged features. "You can’t. You gotta go home. These people here are dangerous," he warned.

"And you don’t think me leaving alone would be dangerous?" you shot back, your gaze a defiant challenge to the protective facade he wore like impenetrable armor.

"Shit," he conceded, his irritation mingling with a begrudging acceptance of your undeniable truth. "Alright, I’m finishing up my round, and then we can go," Billy relented, his tone an admission of defeat. "But you play along with me, ok? If they don’t think you're claimed, they'll see you as fair game," he said, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that cut through the smoky haze, demanding an unspoken oath.

“Ok,” you huffed out.

He pulled you towards his table with a rough yet oddly comforting grip, a silent acknowledgment that, for a fleeting moment, you were to be sheltered from the men surrounding you as long as you stayed with him. "Wait," he murmured, his hand lingering on yours. With a swift motion, he removed his hat, worn and weathered from a life on the precipice.

You extended your hand to stop him. "Billy, you can’t," you insisted, your voice barely more than a whisper, laden with the implications of his gesture. “You know what this means.”

"That’s the point," he declared, his crooked grin returning like a bittersweet promise of protection. As he placed his hat on your head, it became a proclamation, an unspoken claim made before the watchful eyes of everyone present, and a promise of a heated night that lingered in the air like an unspoken secret.

"Now, c’mere," he commanded, pulling you towards him as he settled into his chair, drawing you onto his lap. You bit on your lips, a mixture of anticipation and fear, the heat rising to your cheeks as the proximity between you tightened like a coiled spring. This was the first time Billy had been so close, and the magnetic pull of his presence ignited an unfamiliar fire within you.

He looked up at you as you bit your lips, his gaze a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken tension that hung thick in the air.

As he resumed his poker game, you felt his breath against your neck. "Pass me the whiskey, doll," he asked.

You leaned against the table, inadvertently pulling your hips tighter into his pelvis, sensing his hardness between you. His hands reached out against your hips, gripping you and keeping you still. "Careful," he warned against the shell of your ear, his breath raising goosebumps along your neck, a sensation that heightened the electrifying energy between you.

As you handed him the glass, he took a swig, and then, with a deliberate slowness, leaned down against the side of your neck, planting a lingering kiss. "Thank you, doll," his gravelly voice murmured, the aroma of whiskey lingering in the air.

Billy's fingers grazed lightly along your waist, sending a cascade of sensations through your body. His gaze met yours once more, a silent invitation lingering in his eyes. It was then that you became acutely aware of the speculative glances from the patrons, their curiosity fueled by the undeniable connection unfolding before them.

The weight of Billy's hat on your head felt like both a shield and a beacon, marking you as his amidst the prying eyes of the saloon.

The night passed on and as the final hand of poker concluded, Billy rose from his seat, still holding you close. "Wrapping it up for the night, boys. See ya tomorrow," he declared, his voice a mix of weariness and determination.

He grabbed your hand, guiding you out with a certain urgency. The saloon doors swung open, thrusting you back into the harsh glow of moonlight. As you stopped in front of his horse, he turned around and said, "What the hell were you thinking, coming here alone? You know how they treat women here."

His words cut through the night air, a mixture of concern and frustration etched on his rugged features. The distant sounds of revelry from the saloon formed a dissonant backdrop to the charged atmosphere between you.

You met his gaze, a swirl of emotions reflecting in his eyes. "I just wanted to have one free night, Billy. Just one," you replied, your voice carrying a note of desperation. Billy's jaw clenched, a silent acknowledgment of the dangers lurking in the shadows. "This ain't the place for that, especially not for someone like you," he muttered, his grip on your hand tightening as if to emphasize the point.

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The moonlight cast shadows across his face, revealing the hardened resolve etched into his expression. "I can't have you wandering into places like this, doll," he continued, a trace of vulnerability underlying his gruff tone. "It's too damn dangerous."

Billy sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to release the tension in the air. "Let's get you home," he said, his voice softened. With a final glance back at the saloon, you moved towards his horse. As you approached, he placed his hands on your hips, lifting you onto the horse with a gentle yet firm touch. You instinctively grabbed his forearm for support, your eyes locking in a shared moment of intimacy. 

The ride home was a silent journey through the cool night air, the rhythmic hooves of the horse creating a steady cadence. You sat in front of Billy, the warmth of his body enveloping you, his strong arms encircling your waist as you traversed the dimly lit trails. 

As the horse navigated the uneven terrain, Billy's embrace tightened slightly, offering both stability and reassurance. His chin rested on your shoulder, his warm breath tickling your neck, and in that intimate proximity, the weight of your unspoken desires lingered like an invisible thread weaving through the darkness.

Arriving at your doorstep, Billy helped you dismount, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Your eyes met, a complex tapestry of emotions woven between you. He spoke, his words a whisper carried away by the night breeze, "Be more careful, doll. This world ain't kind, especially to those with a heart as tender as yours." He placed his hand against your cheek, caressing it lovingly.

"Billy," you responded, the ache in your voice carrying a mixture of gratitude and longing. He placed a loving kiss on your forehead, his touch a hushed plea for silence. "Go to sleep, doll. I'll come by tomorrow morning," he whispered, giving you a kiss on the forehead, turning away.

"Billy, wait," an urgency surged within you, desperate to find a reason for him to stay. You took off your hat, intending to return it to him, a feeble attempt to anchor him in the moment. “Keep it. I prefer it on you,” he remarked, a bittersweet acknowledgment that stirred emotions too complex to unravel.

Locked in a gaze that spoke volumes, you inched toward him, a silent plea lingering in the air. As your fingers tightened around the hat, a palpable tension filled the space between you. His intense blue eyes held yours, revealing a tumult of unspoken struggles and desires. Your gaze shifted to his lips—slightly chapped yet irresistibly inviting. 

Closing the distance, you reached him, and, without hesitation, pressed your lips against his. The kiss was a desperate plea, an attempt to convey the emotions that words couldn't capture.

Billy's initial surprise melted into a shared passion, and for a moment, the world around you faded. His arms encircled you, pulling you close as if trying to etch the moment into his memory. As the intensity deepened, you let go of the hat, your hands finding their way to his jaw, pulling him even closer. He tasted your soft lips and felt your warm skin. He pulled away slightly, breath mingling with yours, lips lingering, an anguished pause in the silent night.

"Fuck, doll," he groaned, your foreheads leaning against one another, his hands gripping the fabric on your waist. You looked up into his eyes, witnessing the inner battle reflected in his gaze as he grappled with the decision to restrain himself or not.

You approached your lips to his cheek, giving him a slight peck, when you heard him whisper, "Fuck it." His lips crashed to yours, hungry, hot, and demanding, stealing your breath in a heated rush. His hand came up, cupping your jaw, angling your head to deepen the kiss as he slicked his tongue inside your mouth.

“Come, let’s go inside, yeah?” He asked. You nodded at him, as he gave you a quick kiss, ushering you inside, “good girl.” And in an instant, he’s moving toward you, wrapping his arms around your body and pressing you to his chest. You press your lips to his and moan at the taste of Whiskey. His tongue slides over yours in slow strokes that make your cheeks warm, but it’s when his teeth nip at your bottom lip that a whine escapes. 

His rough, calloused hands drop to the cusp of your neck, gripping your hair just tight enough to make you hiss. You arch into his touch as he starts to explore your body, mapping out every dip and curve. 

“Billy- Please… do something.” He moans a response into your neck as his lips slip down to leave love bites along the column of your throat. 

Eager to feel you, Billy tried to pull at the strings of your corset, but to no avail. It was too complicated to remove in the dark, and with the emotions aptly blinding him, Billy had no patience to try.

In the dark, you heard a flick of a knife, and you felt a cold tip of the blade against your skin before Billy’s voice comforted you, “Be a good girl and don’t move, ok?”

A rip ran through the air as Billy sliced your corset in half from the back. You stayed perfectly still, trusting him completely to cut the clothing off of you without harming you at all. The moment Billy had cut your corset, he dropped it to the floor and pulled your top off with it.

He immediately lets his hands drop to your breasts, nipples already pebbling from the cool air. He pinches and pulls at them for only a moment before he’s trailing kisses down your stomach.

Bilily stops just above your hip bones, “May I?” he asks, blue eyes peering up at you. “Yes. Billy, please.” You beg him, voice thick with desperation. He chuckles and then rubs his hand over your throbbing clit. He slides one, then two thick fingers into your dripping pussy. A whimper bubbles from your swollen lips as he pulls back to spit on your heat. His fingers curl, digits stretching and scissoring inside you. Your head feels like it’s spinning, arousal leaking from your cunt and down Billy’s fingers. 

Your hips are unable to escape his assault on your g-spot when he pins you down, and you let out a moan you hardly recognize as your own. “Shit, you’re so wet.” His teeth catch his bottom lip as he smiles down at your fucked-out form. 

Billy’s hand never slows, even as he grinds his palm into your poor clit. You cum not long after, waves of pleasure crashing over and drowning you in euphoria. Your body is trembling as you come back to Earth and Billy is there, watching you from between your thighs. He places a kiss on your sensitive clit before he stands back up, towering over you. 

“Please. Fuck me, Billy.” You say through heavy breaths. He feels his head spin at the sound of your voice. 

“Whatever you want, doll.” 

Billy lays you across the couch and crawls over you, leaning back to release his aching cock from the confines of his pants. Saliva pools in your mouth at the sight of him, pre-cum drips from his flushed, red tip.

He fists his cock at the sight of you below him, lips parted and breasts heaving. Billy leans his body over yours, trapping you between him and the cushions below you. You can feel the muscle covering his torso press against your tummy. He ruts his cock through your pussy, the head catching on your clit deliciously. You both moan at the feeling and link your fingers together. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. I’m gonna make you all mine”, Billy coos down at you, searching your face for any hesitance. You nod at him, earning you a keen smile and a quick kiss. “It’s gonna hurt, doll, I’m sorry.” Squeezing his hand, you hold your breath when he lines himself up with your entrance.

You gasp when his tip slips into you, already feeling like he’s split you in two. Salty tears start to well in your lash line at the burn of Billy’s cock stretching you out for the first time. He’s much bigger than you anticipated and you dig your nails into his skin. 

“I know, I know. Just breathe.” He tries his best to comfort you, gritting his teeth at the feeling of your cunt around him. His heart stings at the sight of you crying for reasons other than pleasure, but he can’t help it when his hips buck, pushing himself another inch deeper.

Billy knows he should feel guilty for liking the way you screw your eyes shut, the way your cunt flutters around him even though he’d worked you open already. He’s not even halfway inside you and your legs are trembling around his waist while he holds himself back from pushing in balls-deep. He can’t help but feel a sense of pride swell in his chest at the effect he has on your body. 

Billy’s hand leaves yours and drops to your clit, rubbing tight circles with his thumb. Your mouth opens into an “O” shape and your sloppy cunt grants him another inch.  He can feel the velvet of your walls drawing him deeper, euphoria building in your veins. With every circle drawn, Billy pushes in further and further until he’s finally buried to the hilt. He stills for a moment, letting your cock-drunk mind play catchup with your body. “I’m gonna move, is that ok, doll?”

He pulls out, making you whine at the empty sensation, then, he’s driving his hips forward again. You loop your arms around his neck as he attacks your insides. Any words you have die on your tongue as Billy sets a rough, passionate pace. His tan skin, covered in old and new scars, feels slick against yours as his cock splits your mind in half. You can feel Billy everywhere, you can taste him, touch him, smell him, see him. He’s completely overwhelmed your senses and given you nothing to think about other than him.

The air around you is humid and thick, the scent of sex swimming through it. Billy slips in and out of you with ease, the clear strings of your slick and his pre-cum coat your pussy lips like a gloss. You let your gaze fall on him, watching how his brows furrow with concentration while he molds your insides into the shape of him.

Billy lifts your hips in the air to get an angle that allows him to hit even deeper, pumping his cock into you so hard that the air is forced from your lungs. There’s no one else you could want, no one else who could ever make you feel like this. 

“Shit Billy. I’m so close.” You moan, a familiar warmth starting to coil in your tummy. He nods and slots his lips against yours for one final kiss. His tongue explores your mouth as his dick strikes your g-spot, sending you headfirst into bliss. You cum hard as every nerve in your body is set aflame. His hot, sticky cum floods your walls and leaks from around his cock. 

Silence lies thick in the air aside from your heavy breathing and the soft kisses you share. Billy leans back to peer down at where you’re connected and shakes his head at you. 

He picks you up and places you over his hips, leaning you back. “Can’t waste this, doll.” He tuts at you, gathering the cum leaking from your abused pussy on his tip and pushing it back in. Throwing an arm behind his head, a fucked-out grin crosses his features as you sink down on his cock, letting him rub against your most sensitive spots. A strangled moan sounds in the back of your throat as he slowly pushes back into the deepest parts of your cunt.

His tongue darts out to lick the sweat off of his cupid’s bow, large hands moving to slide down your hips to grab at the fat of your ass. He guides you up and down on him as you babble and cry.

“I’ve got you, doll.” His words send a shiver down your spine and you brace yourself on his broad shoulders. Your cunt flutters around him, “Fuck Billy’-” you cry out.

Billy groans at the sight of a white ring around his shaft, made from a mixture of his and your cum. “So tight… taking me so fuckin’ well.” He bucks his hips, tip grazing your g-spot just right, just enough to make your eyes roll up into your head. “C’mon, doll.”

He leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, then captures your lips with his. He swallows every moan and hiccup as he pounds into you, only slowing when you clench impossibly tighter around him. Stars are dancing in your vision and pleasure is burning in your veins. You hear him swear again, he lets his head fall back onto the cushions and plants his boots flat on the floor. You nearly scream as he fucks back up into you. He’s growling something in your ear, but his words sound so far away. 

“Cum on my cock, doll. C’mon, do it. Do it for me.” Billy babbles in your ear as he loses his rhythm, now just slamming his hips into yours with all the force he could muster. Your arms are clinging to his neck and he has you trapped against him. White, hot pleasure hits you like a ton of bricks as you squirm on Billy’s lap. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he pumps his hot, sticky cum into your womb. 

He lays back on the couch, letting you rest against his chest.  With a tender touch, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your hair. His lips lingered for a moment. As he pulled back, his fingers began to stroke your hair slowly, each caress a testament to the unspoken passion that simmered between you.

“From now on, that hat stays on you, doll. Let everyone in town see you belong to me."

send me billy thoughts or requests pleaseee :)

[paperultra]

back of house.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,113 words Warnings: Mild swearing

If it weren’t for his principles regarding women, you’re fairly certain Sanji would’ve throttled and strung you up to dry by now.

“I … I’m impressed, sweetheart,” he says with a bright smile, though under the swinging lights of the kitchen it seems more out of pain than pleasure. “You managed to burn water.”

Your cheeks flame as you peer into the blackened pot with him, all traces of the water you’d been tasked with boiling completely gone. Vanished. You have no idea how or why.

“I’m sorry, Sanji.”

“No need to apologize. Everybody makes mistakes –”

“Sanji!” you hear Zeff before you see him round the corner. “Why the hell do I smell something burning in my kitchen?”

“None of your business, old man,” Sanji snaps immediately, murmuring a quiet excuse me, dear to you before taking the pot by the handle and heading to the sink. He twists the faucet open and running water roars like thunder in your ears as he thrusts the pot underneath. “I have it under control.”

“Under control, eh?" Zeff says. He suddenly turns his squinted gaze upon you, and you shrivel. “This your doing, missy?”

“I –”

“Leave her alone,” Sanji interrupts. “I didn’t give clear enough instructions. It was my fault.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.” Eyeing your guilty and defeated figure next to the stove, Zeff shakes his head with a sigh and points you to the door. “[Y/n], go out and wait tables for the rest of your shift.”

Immediately, you make a move to remove your apron. “Oka –”

Sanji makes a noise of dissent and turns the faucet off. “Wait tables? She can still chop the vegetables and help me plate.”

“You’ll do that yourself. Front of house needs the extra person, anyway.”

“I’m her mentor.”

“And I’m the damn boss.”

The rest of the staff roll their eyes and carry on while the two men argue in the middle of the kitchen. You swallow and take your apron off, balling it up in your hands. This isn’t the first time they’ve butted heads over your incompetence, and watching them now cuts at your last shred of dignity.

Clearing your throat, you grimace when Sanji’s head whips around to look at you.

“Zeff’s right,” you tell him. “Dinner rush is coming up soon and I’ll just be in the way, anyway.”

Zeff grunts with satisfaction.

The expression on Sanji’s face reminds you of a kicked puppy. “But …” he begins to protest.

“Oi, you heard what she said. Get back to work! We have customers waiting!”

Sanji blusters about before heading back to his station, casting you one final, forlorn look as he does so. You imagine that your own face looks just the same when you turn to leave.

—

You take orders and serve customers for the remainder of the day, as promised, and help with cleanup after closing time. And then, long after the sun’s dipped below the horizon, Sanji joins you on the upper deck with a steaming bowl of seafood fried rice.

“For the madam,” he says with a smile, offering you the bowl.

You accept it silently and take a bite as he sits down next to you. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach. You’ve never known a home quite like Sanji’s cooking.

His eyes remain fixed on you as you eat all of the rice, scraping the bowl for every last grain and setting it down beside you once you’re finished.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. I figured it would cheer you up.”

“It did.”

It did, and yet, your lips tremble and your throat closes up. You clench your hands into fists in your lap.

Sanji’s hand immediately presses your shoulder as you sniffle. “Are you alright?” he questions worriedly.

(His attentiveness strikes you like a hot iron sometimes, even now.)

“Why haven’t you given up on me yet?” you whisper.

His brow furrows. As if it’s obvious, he answers, “You want to be a cook. A lady’s wish is my command.” Sanji pauses. “And I can’t call myself the greatest cook in the East Blue if I can’t teach others to be great cooks as well.”

“I think you’d be the greatest regardless.”

You glance at him through watery eyes in time to see his face flush a deep red. He looks away hastily, chuckling with feigned modesty. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me.”

Your shoulders lift in a shrug as you look back down at your hands. You reach up to blot away your tears.

How could you not think the world of Sanji? Or the world of anyone at the Baratie, for that matter? When you were kicked off the merchant ship you’d stowed away on two years ago, you had been sure that you’d be banned from setting foot in such a fine-looking restaurant. Years of scorn and slammed doors had not given you the chance to think otherwise.

But Sanji spotted you on the docks, called you madam like you really were one, cooked you a meal in the kitchen and talked to you. Zeff gave you a job and a bed of your own. The staff gave you a family.

“We’ll try again tomorrow. I’ll figure out something that’ll make everything click for you, and you’ll be a proper cook in no time.” Sanji leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and winks up at you. “I promise.”

As always, your heart skips a beat.

“Okay.”

Maybe, you realize suddenly, you don’t necessarily want to be a cook so much as you want to love the way Sanji does.

“That’s my girl.” Standing up, Sanji takes your empty bowl in one hand and offers the other for you to take. “Now, shall I walk the madam to her room, or does she wish to stay out on the deck for a while?”

You allow yourself to grin, considering. “The madam wishes to stay out here and …” you hesitate but then decide to soldier on, “and possibly chat with a dear friend for a few more minutes?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

Sanji’s eyes widen a bit. Then he blinks, and then he smiles, drawing his hand back and quickly sitting down next to you once more.

“A lady’s wish is my command,” he says.

He takes out a cigarette, making a quip about Patty while he lights it, and your combined laughter rings out across the Baratie. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach.

Indeed, this is home.

[bonewreath]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞! ** 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: modern au; ellie moves to a big city to escape the past. she goes to her first lesbian bar, where she meets you.

cw: porn with…a whisper of plot; alcohol use, fingering (e!receiving), strap-on sex, bottom!ellie, slightly sub!ellie, she’s whiny here

Ellie’s never been to a lesbian bar.

It’s surreal - banners of colorful pride flags are strung across the room, some of which she can’t even identify. Distressed and faded posters are plastered on the stone walls, advertising drag shows and queer punk bands with names like The Cranky Dykes and T-Girl Social. Nearly every patron is tatted or pierced, and there’s more platform boots and fishnet clothing than Ellie’s ever seen in one place before. Before she’d moved to the city, Ellie had lit up with excitement at the thought of visiting a lesbian bar. But now, in her worn Harley Davidson tee and a pair of jeans with unintentional rips at the knees, she feels very much out of her depth. 

Steeling her nerves, she internally reminds herself that this is exactly why she’d moved in the first place - she needed new experiences. She needed unfamiliarity. What she’d left back in Texas was her normal, and she planned to build a new normal here. One that was the antithesis of everything she’d known before. 

The bar isn’t completely packed, but she does need to push past dancing, sweaty bodies, girls sucking on each other’s faces, and chatting cliques to get to the edge of the bar, where more clusters of people are calling out drink orders and thrusting wads of cash tips at the bartenders. By some miracle, an empty barstool presents itself after a drunken patron with a mohawk stumbles out of it, and Ellie swoops in to snatch it before someone else does. She sits there for a good few minutes, trying to capture a bartender’s attention, until someone shuffles up beside her and sticks a hand out to wave one over. And, of course, they notice immediately, heading over with a towel slung over their shoulder. Ellie sinks lower into her seat, cheeks burning.

“I’ll have a spicy marg,” the woman beside Ellie says, voice projecting loud enough to hear over the clamor of music and chatter. The bartender nods, then goes to step away, but the woman next to Ellie stops her, speaking with that attention-commanding voice.

“What are you having?” 

The bartender’s gaze shifts to Ellie, still hunched over and beet-red in the face. She flushes impossibly redder when she looks up at the woman who’d just ordered, realizing that the question had been directed at her. 

“Oh,” she blurts, posture straightening. She glances at the woman, anxiety flaring, then back at the bartender. “Um, an old fashioned. Please. Thanks.”

Just as quickly as they’d come, the bartender disappears again, off to pour precisely-measured shots and mix cocktails in shiny silver shakers. Ellie’s hands are in her lap, fiddling restlessly, when she finally forces herself to look up at the woman who’d practically had to order for her. 

You smile at her when she meets your gaze. Though she’s trying to be subtle about it, you can feel the way Ellie drinks in your every feature, eyes flickering over your face, then your body. It’s obvious that she likes what she sees, because she has a hard time looking you in the eye again. 

“Thanks,” she says. “I’ve been trying to order for a while.”

“So I saw,” you respond, but not unkindly. You take a moment to look her over, although you’d already done plenty of that before you’d even approached her - you had seen her from across the bar, looking forlorn, her leg bouncing beneath the edge of the bar as she tried (and failed) to order herself a drink. Her lack of confidence is what piqued your interest; it was hard to believe that someone that gorgeous wasn’t oozing arrogance and self-importance. She’s all lean muscles and shaggy hair, her forearm decorated with a sprawling fern tattoo. You could already imagine yourself running your hands through that hair, kissing the length of her sharp jawline, pulling those narrow hips up against your own. 

At a lesbian bar, a hot girl who couldn’t carry herself with confidence usually meant one of two things: she’s fresh out of a breakup, or she’d never been somewhere like this. You’re determined to find out which of the two applies to her.

“What’s your name? I haven’t seen you here before.” You angle your body to face Ellie, popping your hip out as subtly as you can. 

Ellie, determined to keep her eyes on your face and not the curve of your hip or the delicious sliver of cleavage peeking out of your square-neck top, peers up at you from behind her bangs. “Uh, yeah, I’ve never been. I just moved here. I’m Ellie - what’s your name?”

You tell her your name and she repeats it slowly, like she’s tasting every syllable. “Pretty.”

Your drinks arrive before you can fumble for a response. 

“Spicy marg, old fashioned,” the bartender lists as they slide your drinks over the smooth wood of the bar. Ellie murmurs her thanks and you nod at the bartender before they disappear, your hand curling around the glass. 

“Cheers?” You tip your drink towards Ellie. She clinks her own glass against yours and the two of you take your first sips, the bitterness of the alcohol burning its way down your throat. You feel it settle in your stomach, warm and satisfying. 

“So,” you begin, licking jalapeño and lime-tinged tequila from your lips. Ellie’s eyes follow the movement for a moment before she catches herself and looks away. “Where’d you move from?”

Ellie smiles shyly. You watch her index finger trace the rim of her glass. “Texas.”

“Oh?” One of your brows lifts. “And what made you want to move here, Texas?”

“For one, I’m gay.” 

“Thank you for stating the obvious.”

She lets out a little laugh, and the sound makes you want to grin - you take a sip of your margarita instead. 

“I just… Couldn’t be there anymore,” she elaborates. “It wasn’t right for me. I needed to start fresh.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, letting Ellie’s words sink in. Clearly, something severe enough had happened to make her want to shed her life in Texas like an old skin. And this lesbian bar, filled with every unique kind of queer this city had to offer, was part of this new version of Ellie - the version she’d chosen to build from the ground up. You’re struck by how brave Ellie must be for that. And yeah, maybe she’d struggled to order a drink for herself, but that didn’t take away from her bravery - not when she’d willfully chosen to uproot her life, a decision most people could never follow through with. 

“I’m impressed,” you say honestly. “And I hope the city gives you what you’re looking for.”

The corners of Ellie’s lips twitch, and that pretty blush fights its way onto her cheeks again. You’re about to say something when you hear the first notes of one of your favorite songs thumping through the speakers, a few other bargoers cheering to express their own excitement. 

“Dance with me,” you say to Ellie, reaching forward with your free hand to grab her forearm. She looks up at you like a deer in headlights.

“I can’t dance.”

“Doesn’t matter, just follow my lead. C’mon.”

“I don’t know if—”

“Didn’t you come here to try new things?” You curl your fingers around Ellie’s wrist, and she lets you pull her to her feet. You’ve made a good point, and she doesn’t argue again - just follows you to the dancefloor, where dozens of others are already moving to the beat of the music, hips rolling, heads nodding. The lights pulsate in the vibrant colors of the rainbow, the crowd painted shades of sunset orange, hot pink, deep indigo. You sip your drink and start to dance, turning to face Ellie; she’s gaping at you, unmoving. 

“Come here,” you say, having to shout over the music. Ellie steps closer to you as you move to the rhythm, hips swishing. You’re wearing a pair of flared pants that makes your ass look incredible, and after Ellie finally starts to dance along with you, you turn around to bring your backside closer to her. As if by instinct, Ellie’s arm loops around your waist - she presses her palm into the front of your pelvis, rolls her hips against your ass. You grin, wide and self-satisfied, as you lift your drink to your lips again - only to realize it’s almost gone. You make a mental note to head back to the bar after this song, but for now, you enjoy the last few drops of your margarita, revelling in the feeling of Ellie’s hand, strong on your hip, as she presses ever-closer into you from behind. 

Ellie’s in awe of you. 

The way you’d strolled up beside her at the bar, posture proud, buying Ellie a drink and flirting with her like it was easy, natural. The way you’d let your eyes wander over her figure, not shy at all about the lust in your gaze. The way you’d dragged her to the dancefloor and ground your ass back against her, smelling like lime and tequila and something headier, something distinctly you. 

Now, after two strong drinks and several songs-worth of dancing with you, Ellie’s so turned on she feels like a live wire, sparks erupting from her every nerve. 

On the dancefloor, Ellie had looped her arm around your hips, leaning in so close she could smell the liquor on your breath. You’d needed to fight down every urge to kiss her first - you weren’t even sure if she’d ever kissed another woman before, and you’d already done enough to pull her out of her shell for the night. But Ellie had leaned her forehead against yours, noses brushing, eyes fluttering shut… And your mouths had crashed together in the sort of kiss you’re going to have a very hard time forgetting.

After making out in the crowd like that for god knows how long, you’d invited Ellie back to your apartment. Which brings you to your current predicament: Ellie’s backed up against the front door, your hand under her shirt, fingers dancing over every inch of her deliciously solid abdomen. If Ellie’s inexperienced, she’s doing a fabulous job of pretending she isn’t. But you’re not sure just how innocent she is now, as she moans unabashedly into your mouth, your hand squeezing her tits over her sports bra. 

“Hey,” you breathe, pulling back from the heated kiss you’d been sharing. 

“Mm?” Ellie blinks at you, dazed. You want to ruin her. 

“Is this okay?” You peck at her lips, then her cheek. “We don’t have to… Do anything. Not if you don’t want to.” 

Ellie’s bangs are gorgeously tousled, and she looks at you like a kicked puppy - all round eyes and furrowed brows, worried you’re taking something from her. “But I… I want to.” 

“You sure?” 

Ellie nods. 

“Have you ever been with another woman before?” Your stomach twists at the directness of your own question, but you really want to know. Need to know. A bar hookup might not be the best way for her to pop her cherry - or, at least, her gay cherry. 

Then again, it’s not exactly unheard of in the community.

“Yeah. I have,” Ellie says, her hand reaching out to grab your hip. 

You find yourself wanting to pry, dig deeper for more information, but there’s no real reason for it. She’s not entirely new to this. She wants you. That’s all that really matters, right?

So you take her to your bedroom, let her undress you with shaky, calloused hands, kiss her slow and sweet while she unbuttons her jeans and kicks them aside. You help each other undress until you’re both naked, and then you’re stumbling into bed, your legs straddling Ellie’s hips as you kiss down her neck, stopping to suck pretty purple bruises into the sensitive skin. Ellie makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper, sending another white-hot jolt of arousal through you. Your cunt is spread over her pelvis, and you grind down against her like that, letting out a pleased sound of your own.

 “God, you’re so hot,” Ellie mutters, watching you roll your hips as you kiss down to her chest. She reaches for your tits, squeezes them in her palms. 

“Yeah?” You smile, sharp and wolfish, down at Ellie. She looks at you like she can’t believe this is happening - like she can’t believe you’re real. “Gonna let me fuck you, Ellie?”

She moans at the obscenity of the question, nodding quickly. “Yes, god, please fuck me.”

“Mm,” you hum, “need to get you ready first, baby.”

Ellie’s breathing is ragged, her hips lifting, seeking friction. You climb down her body until you’re settled between her legs, pulling her knees apart to give yourself access to her center. She’s fucking soaked - you bite your lip at the sight of her, clit swollen and puffy, labia shining with arousal. 

You start with one finger, dipping into the wetness pooled at her entrance and spreading it up to her clit, drawing sharp breaths and staggering moans from Ellie’s kiss-bitten lips. Every sound she makes has you yearning to hear more, more. You slide your middle finger into her clenching hole and groan when you feel her walls open up smoothly around the digit. She pulses around you, hot and slick. When you begin pumping your finger in and out of that tight heat, Ellie’s noises become even more drawn-out, even more frantic - you look up at her and find her eyes already on you, dark with lust, a desperate, pleading expression etched onto her face. 

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby,” you coo at her, revelling in the way her pussy tightens at your words. 

“I–nngh, fuck–I need…” She trails off, jaw clenching. 

You fake-pout at her, puff out your lower lip in faux sympathy. “What is it? What do you need?”

“Need more,” Ellie pants out.

“I can give you more, sweetheart,” you reassure her, “all you had to do was ask.”

So, you give her more. You slip another finger inside of her, press the heel of your hand against the sensitive nub of her clit; your fingers curl upwards in the warmth of her cunt, finding that spongy, sensitive spot that’ll make her see stars. She whines - actually fucking whines, high-pitched and desperate, as if to say yes, right there.

“Shit, oh my god…” Ellie’s hands are clutching the sheets, knuckles blanched. “‘M so close.”

You don’t let up, and it only takes a few more moments of your careful ministrations before Ellie’s falling apart, a mess of jolting hips, strangled gasps, and a rush of wetness. You watch her come undone, wishing you could committ the sight to memory. After, you lick your fingers clean.

While Ellie’s spent and recovering from the height of her orgasm, you shuffle to the side of the bed to reach for your nightstand. You roll open the drawer, rummage around, and return to Ellie’s side with a tiny bottle of lube and your strap, the harness made of powder pink fabric. The brunette sighs contentedly when you lean over to kiss her, swiping her sweat-damp bangs away from her forehead. 

“You taste so good, did you know that?” You press another kiss to the corner of Ellie’s lips, feeling the way they twitch into a smile. 

“I really doubt it,” Ellie says.

You scoff. “Don’t doubt my taste.”

“Mm, okay. Fine. I believe you.”

Fighting your own smile, you move back to sit on your heels, cheeks heating when you notice Ellie’s eyes roaming over your naked body. 

“Need something?” 

Ellie nods, then sits up and pulls you in for another kiss, her hand on the back of your neck. “I want you to really fuck me now.” 

“Oh yeah?” You grin at her, your hands making their way to her tits and smoothing over her pebbled nipples. “Think you should learn some manners, Ellie. How about please?”

Her expression goes soft - eyes rounding, mouth pursing. 

“Please,” she says, and her voice is so sweet, it might rot your teeth. “Please fuck me.”

And who are you to deny her what she needs?

As it turns out, Ellie’s pussy was made to take strap. She’s leaned over, face down in one of your pillows, her ass propped up perfectly to give you access to her cunt. Still soaked from her last orgasm, she hardly needs any lube, the strap pushing into her all the way to the hilt without any resistance; she keens when you’re fully seated inside of her, a sound that makes your own pussy throb with need. Every noise she makes is pure heaven - you wish you could record them all, listen to them when you’re in bed at night with your hand between your thighs. 

“Fuuuuck,” Ellie cries out when you hit that sweet spot with the tip of the strap, her head shifting to lean on one side, allowing you to see the look on her face - the roll of her eyes, the way her lips part to let out each of her gasps and moans. 

“How’s that feel, princess?” You ask as you pound into her from behind; you admire the way her back arches deeper, like she’s encouraging you to fuck into her further and further. 

“S-so good,” Ellie stutters weakly. 

“Yeah? Doing so good for me, baby,” you pant. Every slam of your hips against Ellie’s ass makes her grunt, a pleased little sound, short and needy. 

That tiny grunt turns into an impatient whine when you pull out of her entirely, a lewd, wet noise accompanying the motion. 

“Why’d you stop?” Ellie asks, voice small. She cranes her neck to look back at you and the expression on her face is absolutely pathetic.

You give her ass a playful smack, admiring the way it recoils from the contact of your palm. “Want you to flip over. I need to see you come again, you looked so pretty the first time.” 

She does as instructed - she’s already so good at following directions, you’ve learned. When Ellie’s on her back, her face, neck, and chest tinged red with equal parts arousal and exertion, you lean in and whisper praises to her, lining the strap up to her entrance and pushing into her again. 

“Hold your legs up, sweetheart,” you instruct, pushing her thighs up until they’re folded against her body. She nods, panting, and lifts her hands up to hold her legs in place. You slip deeper into her like this; Ellie goes cross-eyed, lips pursed into a pretty “o” shape as you fuck her senseless. It doesn’t take much longer for her to get close again, and when her legs begin to shake with the effort of holding them up for you, you tell her to relax.

“Play with your clit, hm? I want you to come.” 

Ellie nods. “Y-yeah, I can do that. For you.”

“Just for me?” You grin.

“Mm, just for you.”

Her hand shakes as she brings it between her legs, drawing sloppy circles over her clit with her fingers. You keep fucking her, hips snapping restlessly, every lewd squelch of her cunt making you gush wetter and wetter. But as desperate as you are to come, you’re more focused on Ellie - the way she bites her lip, her entire body tense with her impending orgasm. She warns you before she finally tips over the edge: an endless chant of right there, I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come, oh my god…

You’re not sure how long you lie there on top of Ellie, still buried inside her, before her breathing finally rights itself again. You spend that time kissing all over her face and running your hands through her auburn hair, untangling a few knotted locks in the process. You’re both covered in a thin layer of sweat, bodies glistening, but neither of you seems to mind. Content to lie there together, you rest until Ellie pulls you in for a kiss - one that turns needy and sloppy not long after. 

“Can I taste you?” Ellie asks between kisses, her lips shiny with saliva. She says it with such hope, like she’s not sure what you’ll say. But you’re still drenched between your legs, inner thighs sticky with it. 

“There’s nothing I want more right now,” you confess. 

So Ellie finds a place between your legs, mouth latching to your clit like it’s muscle memory. You curl a fist into her hair and guide her every move, murmuring instructions, which she follows like the good girl she is. The night continues that way - all whispered pleas and tremoring orgasms, tangled limbs and slick-coated fingers, until the two of you finally doze off, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

And Ellie thinks she’s made a good decision, moving here. Trying something new.

[themunsonmurders]

Once again, I am hating the American industry

[vikingcarrot]

Sixtus Rotwild, Silverfish, Florian Treiller and Rhigel, the officers of the Forlorn Order, an undead guild on AD.

[consequencesofargentdawn]

Whatever happened to Sathrynn? such a major void on them in the last few months. Kind of weird how they vanished.

Sathrynn has been effectively banished to the Shadow Realm after this expose proving our long standing concerns about their conduct and the company they and the Forlorn Order keep.

The greater context of this was the Forlorn Order and Sathrynn hypocritically attacking one of Argent Dawn's longest term community event providers on the utterly brain dead "gotcha" of a crude (and self deprecating) joke they made in one of the urls of an upload to the Argent Archives (yes, basically a nothingburger.)

Compared to the company that they keep such as this individual in particular. Instead of simply putting their hands up and admitting blatant double standards and apologising for it, they doubled down, multiple times.

A quick search for the #sathrynn or #the forlorn order tags on our archive will net readers quite the smorgasbord of typical enclosed clique mindset hypocrisy in action. It was no wonder Sathrynn and her friends got on very well with the likes of the PCU, considering the general shared proclivities.

[acotarxreader]

Shadow and Flame pt. 1

Azriel X Reader

Synopsis: Azriel is down bad in his feelings for Elain when a new female crosses his path. The job of the Shadowsinger is to know all and yet you evade his knowledge.

Warnings: None

A/N: Hello. This is my first time writing a fanfic for this series. I hope you like it ✨

Part Two

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

“Whilst we wait for Lucien, let's play a game. Fuck, Mate, Kill, High Lords edition, our own brother excluded of course. I mean there's days I want to do all to him”

“Ugh Cass” Nesta recoiled at her own mates idea of a bar game, the group laughing. 

“Hardly fair to Feyre when she's done or almost done those to more than two already” Rhys growled at Mors joking tone, the table continuing its howling. Rita's music swelled around the booth of the best friends, lightheartedness well and truly arriving once again to the group. 

“Az you go first”

“I politely decline Cass” protests followed his words 

“Leave poor forlorn Az alone”

“I am not forlorn Amren” the Shadowsinger tried his best to not grit out the words.

“I would consider pining after Elain to be pretty forlorn” Amren gestured with her head to the middle Archeron sister making her way  back to the booth balancing a tray of drinks.

“Stop saying that word” this time Azriel couldn't hide his annoyance.

“-Right well anyways, I think we'd all kill Tamlin -” the group hummed in agreement to Cass as Azriels mind disengaged from the conversation. 

Was that how he'd been feeling? Had the feelings of creeping crawling rising abandonment at the hands of his brothers for their mates affected him more than he thought? Why couldn't he have what they had with Elain? It made sense to him, but why didn't it make sense to the Mother? He shook this from his head as he frequently did. Elain joined the table once again, passing around the drinks. 

Azriel tore his eyes from her movements and landed them on the crowd of dancing Velaris residents, when a new figure approaching the bar top had his eyes transfixed.

He watched the female dip between the crowd so masterfully as if she was made of the same shadows that rested peaceful around him. She effortlessly passed the dancing Fae in candlelight.

“Earth to Az” Cass’ hand waved in front of his hazel eyes pulling Azriel back to the booth for a moment to sweep away his brother's paw. His eyes darted back to the room to find the female gone again. 

“What is it Lassie, Timmy stuck down the well?”

“What does that even mean Cass?” Azriel couldn't ignore the bizarre statement.

“I'm not sure, I read it in a human book once”

“I didn't know you could read” Cass feigned hurt at Feyres comment, the table of friends laughing. 

“Up until about last week you definitely couldn't Feyre” 

“Uncalled for!” Freye laughed hard at Cass’ comeback.

“Anyways, what is it Az….Az?” Cass found the seat next to him empty, the Shadowsinger long mingled into the crowd.

You reached the bar top skillfully, your hand reaching up and retrieving a drink ordered by someone else and dipping back to your side before the bartender noticed. You gave a small smile into the tumbler of icy brown liquor as you turned back into the room, ready to push back off. Your gaze immediately caught the Shadowsingers eyes as he leaned on the back wall watching you. He simply raised an eyebrow with a small smirk. You sighed lowly, replacing the drink back on the bar top next to a tea light candle without removing your eyes from Azriels. You narrowed your eyes at him, the crowd dancing and swirling across your sightline. Azriel finally blinked and found you gone from the spot when his eyes flickered back open. 

You crossed the threshold of Rita's into the streets, a little startled someone had seen you, a new occurrence. 

“You don't care for another drink?” The males voice stopped you in your tracks at the mouth of the adjacent alley. You curled your hands into small fists and exhaled out. Caught. You had been caught.

“Don't go shy on me now” you slowly span on your heel to face the male. Azriel felt his breath hitch slightly at the sight of you in the firelit street lights. He felt a bit dazzled by your beauty, piercing copper eyes previously inhibited by the dim and smoky light of Rita's. 

“Can I help you Azriel?

“How do you know me?” He couldn't hide the hint of surprise in his voice. You closed your eyes gently, sighing deeply at your foolish slip up before opening them again. 

“I don't”

“Why don't I believe that? Who are you?”

“If I told you that, I'd have to kill you” you gave a small smile, angling your head gently, tempting him to step in closer to your magnetic eyes. 

“I'd like to see you try”

“That can be arranged Shadowsinger” he scoffed at your cocky tone. You turned back to face the alley, quickly dipping down it but not fast enough. Azriel flashed before you, sidestepping you to where your back met the cold brick of the alley. 

“I asked your name” he stepped in close to you, your eyes looking to the exit to the side of him, only to have his wings open slightly to trap you inwards. You sighed, looking up through your eyelashes to find his eyes fixated downwards on you. 

“I'm not anyone important”

“Nonsense, every resident of Velaris is important“

“And who said I was a resident of Velaris?” you couldn't hide your smugness from him as he seemed to scan your face further, checking it again the rolodex of Fae in his mind to find a gap in knowledge. 

His shadows leapt around him in alarm at being caught out with a stranger. A true stranger. Who were you? Shadows crossed his face to try to relay information and when they settled again you were gone from in front of him. 

His wings dropped, his head turning uncharacteristically frantically from side to side only to now find you across the street. You gave a small wave with just your finger tips with a small gloating laugh before running down and into the winding streets of Velaris. Azriel moved to follow you only to crash right into Lucien.

“Are you never not in my way?!” Azriel couldn't help but bark at the emissary.

“Hello Azriel, how are you? I'm good thanks for asking? Yes I do forgive you for walking into me, of course I-”

“Just leave it” Azriel signed, ducking around him to run to cross the street. It was no good, you were gone he thought, but how? And who? 

*************

“Az stop pacing, you're not helping the hangover” Cassian ran his hands down his green tinged face, regretting going as hard as he had the night previous. Lucien giving a small laugh to the Illyrian, picking himself up from the sofa to head to the kitchen for tea.

“I have no idea who she was and that's my job. How could I not know who she was?”

“I'm not sure Az but Cass is right, please sit down, you're giving us all motion sickness” Rhysand joined the group in the sitting room of the town house, a soothing tincture for Feyre in his hands. She smiled up lovingly at her mates gesture, more pangs of jealousy passed through Azriel. 

“Let me see into your mind Az, I'll draw her, maybe one of us knows her” Azriel weighed up Feyres offer. He hated letting them behind his shields but he needed to know who you were. He thought of your face in the candle light again, did he want to share you with the world? He weighed up the options before agreeing, Mor having already retrieved a scrap of paper and a pencil for Feyre. 

The group gathered around the sketch of you freshly drawn. One by one group shook their heads, unsure of the Fae in front of them, sending Azriels heart sinking again. 

Lucien strolled back into the sitting room, tea tray in hand. The crash of the tray had the group's startled reaction landing on the Emissary. 

“Oh my Gods seriously! My head” Cassian groaned, covering his face with a throw pillow. Lucien took almost erratic steps over the broken china towards the drawing, snatching it from the knee height table and gathering it into his chest. The group now entirely addled by his reaction.

“Lucien?” Feyre was the first to break the quizzical silence. 

“Nothing! This is no one!” Lucien's skillful way with words was now long gone.

“Who is that?” Rhysand and Azriel almost asked in unison.

“It's no one I said! Leave it! I have to go, sorry for the mess!” He darted for the hallway, Azriel hot on his heels. 

“Lucien, who is that? What do you know?” The Shadowsingers sharp tone tried to stop Lucien in his tracks.

“It's no one, you didn't see her, forget it, stay away from her”

“Which is it, stay away from her or I didn't see her?” this silenced the Prince of Foxes. 

“I have to go!” His panicked tone was betraying him. Azriel went to catch him harshly, Lucien winnowing out avoiding capture leaving Azriel once again confused and alone

*****************

Part Two

[jinwoosungs]

{ 136 }

surround you.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ where ever you are | whenever you need me | just crawl in my arms | oh, and i'll hold you beside me }

jinwoo was still working, his time being taken up by his duties at the association. ever since he became stronger, leaving behind his former status as the weakest hunter and rising up to be one of the most powerful hunters the world has ever known, he had been keeping busy.

and you were left feeling the pinpricks of melancholy with his absence.

the longer he was away from you, the longer your forlorn emotions seemed to strengthen with each second that passes.

but you didn’t wish to burden your lover with such clingy thoughts.

knowing that occasionally, he will check on you by watching you through beru’s eyes, you forced a happy smile and occupied yourself with the former ant king. he keeps you company and reminds you of how much you mean to his king.

“our monarch truly cannot live without you! you are his sole source of happiness.”

you bask in beru’s praise, not minding the fact that he was practically spilling out each and every one of jinwoo’s thoughts pertaining to you. admittedly, his words brought you an immense joy-

yet at the same time, it only served to further increase your desire to see jinwoo again.

after eating a light lunch, you excuse yourself from the dining table, and you were grateful that beru had allowed you to have a moment alone. not wishing to cry in front of him, you close the door to your shared bedroom and let out a shaky sigh.

your eyes trail across the bedroom, faintly detecting jinwoo’s scent as they began to water just the tiniest bit in response.

you missed your boyfriend terribly.

wanting to surround yourself with something that he owned, you take quick strides toward the closet and open it. on one side of your walk-in closet, your clothes were hung up in a neat line while on the opposite side were jinwoo’s clothes. ignoring your line of clothes, you trail your eyes over the varying shades of greys and blacks that became a staple to jinwoo’s signature style. your hands were itching to find something, searching through each and every one of his outfits before landing on a specific article of clothing that jinwoo owned.

your hands were trembling, carefully taking out the long and heavy black trench coat. it was something you knew could completely envelope you with its sturdy fabric and sheer length-

which was perfect for you.

tossing aside the hanger, you clutch the coat tighter to your chest, allowing your nose to gently inhale at the fabric, smiling when you could still detect his scent.

the moment you wore the coat over your frame, you began to laugh at how comically large it was, completely engulfing you as you felt the ends of his coat trailing from behind you. you close your eyes while making your way towards your bed, simply basking in his scent as you imagined that jinwoo himself was here with you, his arms wrapped around you while keeping you oh so safe within his embrace.

you fall into bed with a sigh, still burying your nose within the fabric of his coat. and as you kept relishing in his lingering scent and the warmth the trench coat provided was when you finally fell into a peaceful slumber.

your snores could be heard from your bedroom, and you didn’t even realize that beru had pressed his head against your door the moment you had excused yourself. he listens to your every movement and calls out to his king to update him of your status.

my king, your beloved misses you a great deal.

i know, i’ll be home within the next 30 minutes.

beru had to fight back the urge to celebrate and shake you awake. he knew that you would be happy with his king’s return quickly approaching- but he was given strict orders by his king to always allow you to rest and never disturb you.

so it was with a heavy heart that beru continues to tidy up the house, only stopping once the sound of the door unlocking catches his attention, revealing jinwoo holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“my king… your beloved still sleeps.” beru tells jinwoo with a bow, earning a satisfied grunt from the shadow monarch as he places an appreciative hand on beru’s shoulder.

“lock the door for me.”

“of course, my king.”

with those last words spoken to his most loyal soldier, jinwoo quietly enters your shared bedroom, not wishing to awaken you.

yet when he sees the way you had fallen asleep, all while wrapping your frame with his signature trench coat, jinwoo couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, feeling his heart turn soft at such an endearing sight.

he sets the bouquet on your nightstand, taking off his suit jacket and dress shoes, placing them to the side before joining you on the bed.

letting out soft coos of your name, he manages to hold you in his embrace without disturbing you, allowing his full lips to trace at your forehead while whispering of his love and utter devotion to you.

i love you.

i would kill for you.

i would die for you.

jinwoo continues whispering such loving phrases in your ear, and as he looks down to catch a better glimpse of your sleeping face, he could have sworn that you were smiling in your sleep. you murmur a bit, somehow managing to reach out to him, wrapping your arms around him as you cuddled your body even closer to his chest.

feeling satisfied, jinwoo proceeds to hold your form closer to him, not caring that you were using his coat as a blanket as he closes his eyes, allowing the feeling of peace and strange sense of homecoming to course through his veins-

for his home would always be right here, within the safety of your presence and loving embrace.

a.n. - so, i read the chapters where jinwoo beat the ever living shit out of hwang dong-su and thomas andre, and proceeded to fall madly in love with jinwoo all over again. using his signature trench coat as a blanket is a fantasy of mine, gods, i need this man to spoil me and protect / defend me like that, too 😭🙏🏻

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine making Mihawk tell you where Shanks is...

Of all the people you had expected to see at the Baratie, Mihawk wasn’t it. But he was exactly who you needed to find a certain red-haired pirate.

The Warlord seemed unfazed with your wide-eyed reaction when you saw him and sighed. “I don’t have time for whatever this is.”

He stood up to leave when you grabbed his dagger necklace and forced him to stop walking off. Had this been anyone else, Mihawk would have split them in a millisecond, but you were fortunate that the Warlord found your boldness amusing.

“Not so fast, I need your intel on locating Shanks.” You said and pulled out a map onto the bar table. Pointing a finger to the paper, you traced in a downwards motion. “I lost him just after he left Melon Town and-”

“Your red-haired duet is currently drunk on a beach at the edge of the Grand Line.” Mihawk revealed easily, taking a glass of wine into his hand. “I’d suggest drowning him in the sea just to sober him up.”

So he made it to the Grand Line.

“I’m surprised you’d even want to find him. Didn’t he leave you on Coral Harbour after that nasty affair with the Marines?”

You frowned at the man and stole the drink from his hand. “I was injured during that mess. Shanks found me a place to lay low until I healed.”

Mihawk rolled his eyes. “And now you think you owe him?”

Gulping down the remaining liquor, you returned the glass to the bar and tapped your knuckles on the wood to order another round. “He asked me to come find him.” You replied.

“And how many people has he said that to?” Mihawk asked, voice low and serious.

He wasn’t wrong. Shanks was a natural flirt and you knew it well. But there was something different when it was just the two of you.

Unless, you had fooled yourself…

“Oh, messing with you is far too drab." Mihawk drawled. "I ran into him a few months ago and that forlorn expression at the mention of you was almost alarming.”

Mihawk was ready to walk off on you but your determination to challenge his night just for a scrap of answers around Shanks compelled him to stay. Just as your drink was passed, he returned your previous action and stole it before it reached your fingers.

Smirking, he downed it in one. “You've convinced me. I’ll help you find your pirate.” He said. "My ship is over-”

“I have my own ship, thank you very much.” You scoffed back.

Mihawk glanced behind you, noticing the simple ship you had acquired for your travels. “You’ll drown in that thing before you leave the bay and I have no desire to tell Shanks that you died on my watch.” He stated matter-of-factly.

Mihawk stood up and stretched his legs a little. “Meet me at the far end of the pier at dawn. I’ll be with you right after I duel with and kill Roronoa Zoro.” Mihawk declared and with a swish of his coat, vanished into the darkness.

As the buzz of the booze began to wear off, you realise his last comment.

“Did you say you were going to kill Zoro?” You asked aloud and stumbled off your seat in a rush to run after the man. “Mihawk, wait!”

~ More imagines here ~