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bowieandqueen11 · 3 months

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Distraction / Dracule Mihawk Imagine

Request: Hello! I was wondering if I could request a Mihawk x Reader that’s kinda enemies to lovers. I’m super in love with the whole ‘they hate each other but their constant bickering is bordering on blatant flirting’. Thank you so much ^~^

Babes you are so right!! This is so sweet oh my goodness!! :) Sorry if this is really OOC, its my first time writing for Mihawk!

This was fun to write, but it took me a while - so if you liked it, or if you want a follow on, please leave a comment!

Warning: a little strong language, mentions of knives!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @bangnyfes.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

The exhale that left your nose at the sound of his voice would have been squally enough to shatter stone.

It had only been a meagre three days of uninterrupted peace before the cursed Dracule Mihawk arrived. Three. Days. True, your Captain and your fellow Red Haired Pirates had spent most of the hours here celebrating: emptying your dwindling crate supplies of poor Lucky Roux's lamb legs, unloading all the bottles of sweet liquor graciously donated to Shanks (or wily guerdoned by a female admirer off the coast of Syrup Village), and dripping every bottle dry until half the crew was splayed out on hammocks, and the other half was link-armed dancing underneath the endless ocean of drifting stars.

'For someone who's supposed to be a lookout, your observational skills are... well, decidedly more lacking than a sea cow's.'

As much as you loved Shanks, sometimes you wanted to grab his shoulders and give him a hard shake, trying to wipe that shrewd smile off his face. You hadn't even been granted any time to properly wake up; you had flung your arm over your squinting eyes, desperately trying to figure out why there was a looming shadow growing on the edge of your vision. Turned out, that as soon as that blasted coffin-shaped cruiser had come cruising past the white shores of Shank's base island, the man had nearly tripped over his feet to come leer over you like a grinning meerkat.

Look out duty? He had put you on look out duty!? With the brutish, blazing sun scorching across your bedraggled head? With the salty spray of the spring sea stretching its foamy fingers up across the shore and chilling your feet on this dusty, forgotten pocket of the East Blue? With the infuriating, pestering, testing, teasing Dracule Mihawk? Part of you was exasperated: you had been hoping for at least a week of recuperation before Shanks sailed off again for Yukiryu Island. Another part of you was dissatisfied that it had taken the swordsman so long to show up.

You hum in response as Mihawk's lengthening shadow shudders across your eyelids; feeling the cool chill that followed the flick of his coat around his boots, you don't even bother to open your eye and glare at the man. Instead, you dig your heels further down into the wet grains: legs stretched out and arms crossed tightly around your chest, lounging against the cragged edge of mossy crevice behind your back.

'I noticed you', you reply after a moment of pregnant silence. You fidget, trying your best not to give away the fact that your back was starting to ache from staying so *nonchalantly* perched in this position; to not give the man any ammunition. It really, really did not help your pride that his piercing eyes seemed to be mocking you with the way they glance obviously down the curved outline of your spine. Casting it away as vicarious embarrassment, Mihawk is almost ashamed with the burning realisation that his eyes had been trained over the years to be almost painfully conscious of your every miniscule mannerism.

'I just didn't think it was the effort to open my eyes', you sigh, tilting your head back towards the sun-strengthened field of bright blue swaying across the far yonder. 'There's no threat nearby. Unless-', you beckon your hand out towards the tapering shoreline, 'you count some of the cockles Beckman might stand on with his bare feet.'

'That's why the Captain's always wearing sandals!', you hear echo out from the mouth of the cave looming to your right, followed by the teetering sound of uproarious laughter. Despite the noise of your rancorous crewmates, Mihaw's golden eyes never waver: their piercing intensity focused solely on the edge of your irises as you finally, with a displeased twist of your lips, blink your gaze over to settle firmly on his own.

'I passed at least three Marine vessels during my jaunt over to your little...shack.' The swordsman's head cocks in your direction: his voice is low. Guarded. Unwavering. But you're getting to him. You know you're getting to him. Trying to wash down the waves of heat that begin to flood your vexed cheeks, you curse yourself for being able to read even his most minute idiosyncracies: the way his left eyebrow raises almost a tenth of an inch when he's struck by mild amusement.

'Shack? Shack!' You kick your bare foot off the slippery edge of the lapped rock and take a step out onto the gorge of beach stretching between you and Mihawk, swinging your arms out by your sides. 'Why Dracule, can't you see this is the last refuge of the East Blue - you dare scorn an abode teeming with luxury, good-will, and free booze!'

Another exuberant cheer rings out from Lucky Roux, as the unmistakable sound of two tankards slamming together, followed by a faint slosh and cry of outrage from Yasopp follow in quick procession.

The only hint that Mihawk has heard them is the slight narrowing of his eyes.

'It's not your fault, Hawk-Eyes.' You try to stifle your facetious smirk, instead placing your back against the rock again and fidgeting as if settling back for another snooze. Tipping the edge of your straw hat down to cover your eyes, you duck your chin into your neck and close your eyes, knowing the blatant disregard for Dracule would drive him mad.

'Suppose your eye sight isn't quite what it used to be, considering your advanced age and all.'

The clamour of your crew drowns in your ears by the pause that follows; too obdurate to flick an eye open and observe Mihawk's indignant reaction, you instead allow the sound of out-of-tune shanty singing to be replaced with the almost still whisper of the waves. Of the slight hiss of the balled sun, as it throws down its rays and coats you in nothing but the icy tendrils of Mihawk's obstinate silhouette. Of his sharp suspire twanging in your ear, as his pointed footsteps shift the earthen grains guarding you from his propinquity.

Of his gravelly voice, nearly making you knock the hat off your head as it suddenly flows past your ear.

The sunlight floods your eyes when they finally open, until you can barely see Mihawk: just the flaxen outline of his being as he comes floating up towards you: phantom like, and yet more imposing and colossal than the threat of a thousand Marine ships protruding their helms your way.

'Enough with the pleasantries. I believe I have something that may be of interest to you.'

He reaches into the inner lining of his coat, withdrawing a rolled up piece of parchment. Although you're intrigued, all you dare to do is look inquisitively between Mihawk's outreaching hand, and distrustfully back to his unwavering stare.

Wow, he really was close. You could almost see your reflection in the immaculately polished glaze of Yoru, still strapped on his back; as it turned out, that back just happened to be jutting your way. Mihawk's spine is almost completely arching over your reclining torso, almost blotting out the fringes of the sun, his head bowing as if observing rather flighty prey. Realising you're still stubborn as always: far too headstrong to trust him, or to place your fingers anywhere that could cause you to come into contact with his skin, he sighs and unrolls the treasure map with a flick of his wrist.

You did your best to hold back your snort. Really, you did.

'What, exactly, do you think the Captain will want with a scrappy looking, filth covered, mud covered, blood covered-'

'I didn't say Shanks. I said you. Although your Captain may have been a valiant opponent many years ago, he's now half the man he used to be. '

You chew the inside of your lip, finally rolling on the balls of your feet and coming to a full stand in front of the swordsman; Mihawk, almost unconsciously, straightens his own spine in return.

'You find me valiant, ey?'

He pierces you with the most grating stare he can muster.

'I find you wanting.'

The tang of salt seething off the bubbling sea could do nothing to burn away the fizzling want and joint annoyance banging against your ribcage, nor could the cool pinch of the jagged stone distract you from how restless you were feeling with Mihawk leaning so close.

'I bet I could find this treasure before you with my eyes blindfolded and my hands tied behind my back.'

The tangy breeze curls the strands of hair loosened behind his right ear, and by all the wishes in the world did you want so badly to tuck it back into place.

'Careful now, turtle.' He takes another step forward, effectively pinning you between the cove wall and his rigid chest. For the first time since your injudicious acquaintance with the warlord, you could feel it beat... no, feel it slam almost erratically. It seemed to jolt so ferociously against his pec, if he weren't restraining himself from taking another step forward and diminishing you completely, you would have been able to feel it against the unbuttoned cotton of your shirt. 'You've been spending far too much time around Shanks. We wouldn't want to step on that shell and have it crack.'

'You want to go out searching for treasure... you? With a map that looks like it's been pulled out of a goldfish's behind.'

He takes that final step forward, and as the buckle of his belt hits against the top of your groin, you find your obstinate bearing falter far faster than you were proud to admit.

'I find myself bored, and you may provide a fleeting distraction.'

The trimmed hair coating his jaw feels warm as it glides across the side of your cheek, but you still can't help but tremble. His voice: gruff and warm as it rumbles a devastating gale across the side of your nose nearly makes your breath hitch. Nearly. But just the mere thought: the mere tremble of your pulse point as you tried to swallow back down your pride as its slippery tendrils latched and slithered its way up the back of your throat was enough to give the game away.

Your thighs tremble as his leg slid up against between your calves, and you gave yourself away completely.

Mihawk's lips turn up at the edges, and the bastard had the audacity to pin your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. Imperturbed, as if unsnarling a feeble swallow's wings clipped by a wild springe, the man looming over your torso raises your face. Closer and closer and closer: his unbreaking gaze almost unnerving. Almost. If it hadn't been for that glint of delight festering in the corner of his swirls.

'Why bother, then?', you swallow thickly. 'If it's not a challenge.'

'I may find it fun.' His hand drops down to your collar bone: his grip firm, resolute, surprisingly warm as his fingertips constrict at the feel of your bare skin.

'No, really', you manage to pant out between laboured breaths, shaking your head out to try and stop yourself from becoming distracted by the racy feeling beginning to ball in the pit of your stomach.

He was playing you, you thought, biting down on your tongue and pretending the pressure of his thumb pad faintly pressing down on the strip of skin just above your left breast wasn't making you go lightheaded. He was toying with you. Snap out of it!

'Tell me the truth, and I'll do it. Why are you really here?'

'Perhaps I just like to see you squirm, like a little rabbit...', his hand rises from his side to slide up the inside of your wrist almost painstakingly slowly, his words dying out once he's encircled the bone with his vice-like grip. The next utterance is caught only by your ear as a whisper in the wind. 'Caught in my snare.'

Although he doesn't cut off your airway - he would never do anything to outright cause you physical harm - the finger still resting on collar bone crawls across your throat. His finger nails scratch like pinpricks from sharpened knives as he claws over your pulse point, before running the side of his finger back underneath your chin.

He looks almost... contemplative, as his eyes dart furtively down to linger over the top seam of your lip.

It's the first time, during all your years of solicitous enmity, that you had ever seen him distracted.

Using the opportunity, you manage to break free of his trance - of his hold on you. Grabbing onto his sleeve, you tug him towards you with all the force shaking through your burning body, appreciating the slight widening of his eyes in surprise as you slam his back against the wall of rock. You press yourself against the taut, constricting muscles of his abdomen, holding one hand firmly against his waist. The other snakes around to pin his wrist against the scrap of trouser by his hip, every cell in your bodies ablaze as he flexes his fingers. They curl into a ball over his fist, dangerously close to brushing across the back of your hand.

He could move you, of course. If he wanted to, he could flick you off him like a stray piece of sand, dusting you off as if you weighed as much as a handful of pebbles.

But he gave it away. God, how hard he had been trying not to: how hard he was trying to stop his body from flushing an increasingly paler shade of white at how mortified he was. How infuriated he was. How ensnared he was.

He didn't move. He gave himself away completely.

All he did was tilt his head back, and half-smiled expectantly at the sound of your dagger being sheathed from its thigh-scabbard; he was intrigued by the way you jutted its tip just below his Adam's apple, tilting his face to meet the steel.

'Don't forget, I still owe you for that time on the Nammu Isles.'

He tuts, eyes shining dangerously in the glare. 'Are you talking about the time I saved your pathetic life?'

You jut your chin forward, imposing your face against his own. 'I mean the time you took my bounty. You better stop talking, oh mighty warlord of the sea, before I shave that pretty little moustache off hair by hair.'

For a moment, there's nothing but the rhythmic brush of his breath against the pursed lines of your full lips: the odd jolt of the tip of his nose hitting against your own as he observes like with the intensity and rigidness of a man possessed.

Without breaking eye contact, he makes as if to lean forward and kiss you, but instead butts his elbow into your stomach and uses your doubled-over state to swipe the knife out of your fingers.

'You may have that back, if you win.' He toys with it, almost looking teasing as he tucks the small blade into his breast pocket.

'I'll take your sword, too.' You wipe your hand across your mouth before placing your palms on your knees, smiling up at the swordsman. You would be damned, if after all this time, you would give him the satisfaction of seeing how flustered he made you.

He bows his head, trying in vain to hide his amusement. He does, however, slap at the hand that's tentatively reaching behind his back, subtly trying to latch on to the hilt of jaded Yoru.

'Of course, if you win. Such a shame that you never stood a chance.'

'I look forward to wielding that sword', you hum in a sing-song tone as you creak your back up again, placing one hand on your hip and your other pointer finger ostentatiously on your chin. Raising your eyes to the sky, you pretend to think deeply as watch two seagulls squawk, stream and tumble past each other, darting through the streaming white clouds. 'I bet I could make some delicious Aburaage with it.'

'And if I win, I look forward to taking that awful hat from you.'

Looking on in disbelief, Shanks shakes his head and tilts back to face the rest of his slack-jaw, gobsmacked crew.

'Right, bets on boys. Which of our beloved numbskulls will be the first to make a move?'

'I mean, he couldn't be more obvious!', Yasopp chimes in, fiddling some loose berries out of his trouser pockets and slamming down into his Captain's awaiting hands. 'I bet he drew that map himself!'

Benn Beckman rolls his eyes, but joins in with the circling chorus of laughter as Shanks slaps his arm against his back. 'It is the fourth time this month he's shown up with a map for Y/n.'

'Well, no matter what happens-', Shanks replies, squatting down onto his hammock again and distractedly counting through the coins he's collected, 'we have to be thankful to Y/n! After all, all proceeds and winnings will be going towards restocking our drink supplies!'

#one piece #one piece imagine #mihawk #mihawk imagine #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk imagine #dracule mihawk x reader #opla #shanks #red haired shanks #shanks imagine #opla imagine

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cozage · 11 months

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The Moss that Grew in Gloom

Chapter 2: Honor in Asking for Help

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Summary: As the daughter of the best swordsman in the world, your life has been a lonely one. You've never minded the quiet life, until a mossy-haired swordsman falls to your island and shakes things up. Word Count: 2.5k Characters: female reader x Zoro

You heard him outside your room in the mornings, training in the courtyard. Sometimes you stopped to watch him, but most of the time you ignored it. He worked his way up the baboons, slowly and painfully.

In the afternoon, you explored the island. Most days you wandered through the destroyed villages, but you also enjoyed watching Zoro train. One time he caught you, and demanded you either fight or leave, and you laughed as you walked away. He didn’t seem to question why the baboons didn’t chase you as you retreated.

He dragged himself inside at night and the four of you ate dinner together. Most of the time it was silent, save for Perona’s loud voice talking to nobody in particular. After dinner you and Zoro went to the infirmary, where you checked his bandages and made any adjustments that were needed.

This went on for a few weeks, until Zoro only had about 10 baboons left to conquer. He had been stagnant in his progress for a few days, and you could tell he was getting frustrated.

“Would you like some pointers?” you asked, tightening the bandage around his wrist.

“What could you teach me?” he snarled back.

You laughed, it echoing off the stone walls. “I guess you won’t know until you ask.”

“I don’t need your help.”

You hummed, tucking his bandage under the wrapping to keep it from unraveling. He hopped off the cot and stormed towards the door.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” you called out to him as he stormed down the hall.

There was a knock on your door three days later. You opened it to find the moss-headed swordsman standing there there, sweat beading on his forehead. He looked nervous, but he didn’t say anything.

You stood there waiting for him to speak for a few moments, but he didn’t.

You finally took the bait, tired of his game. “Can I help you?”

He scowled at you. “Hang on, woman. I’m working on it.”

You stood there for another minute, but he didn’t say anything.

“You’re wasting my time,” you said, starting to shut the door.

“Hang on!” His hands slammed against the door, taking you by surprise.

You squinted your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest in irritation while you waited for him to muster up the courage to say whatever he was planning.

Zoro fiddled with the hilt of Wado Ichimonji, clicking it in and out of its belt. “Mikawk said you’ve beaten all of the babboons on the island.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“How’d you do it?”

You give him a smug look, finally realizing his motives for being here. He had actually taken you up on your offer.

“Are you asking me for help?” you asked coyly.

“No!” Zoro snapped immediately. He hesitated for a second, and then let out a defeated sigh. “Yes.”

You gave him a slightly evil giggle and picked up your sword next to the door. “Come on, let’s see what I can teach you.”

You walked past him without saying anything further, and quickly down the hallway. You heard him struggle to keep up with you behind you. You considered waiting for him, but pausing would show a sign of weakness you couldn’t afford to let him see. He already understimated you enough as it was.

When you finally made it out to the courtyard, you turned back to face him, hoping he was still behind you. He was a short distance back, but he had kept up for the most part.

The courtyard didn't seem like the proper spot for the training he’d be doing, and you’d rather stay away from your father’s lurking eyes and his judgemental comments. So you continued on towards the tree line, still not saying anything to Zoro.

“Hey!” Zoro called out, stopping at the courtyard. “I normally train here!”

“Keep up!” you called back to him, not slowing your pace. “Or else you’ll get lost.”

You heard him let out a huff of desperation, and his boots stomped quickly on the ground to close the gap to you. You smirked to yourself, but said nothing outloud.

Once you hit the treeline, you slowed down to allow him to catch up to you. It’d be easy for a normal person to get lost in these woods, and Zoro would be hopelessly doomed here. When he finally caught up with you, he was breathing heavily.

“Could you walk any faster?” He snapped, struggling to catch his breath.

“Yes.” You kept walking, your eyes watching the darkened areas of the forest where enemies could be hiding.

You heard his steps start to recede, and as you look around, you realize he’s wandering away from you.

“Hey!” you shouted, running over to him. You gripped his wrist tightly, dragging him back to the path. “All you have to do is follow me! How are you failing so badly at that already?!”

You heard him clench his teeth, but you kept a strong grasp on his wrist. You did not want him to get lost here. It’s unlikely he’d ever find his way out.

You pulled him along, and he followed obediently, even if you could feel him silently seething. Luckily, no baboons bothered you all for now. It’s the weaker part of the island, but sometimes they still liked to challenge you for fun.

You all finally made it to some old ruins, and you stopped abruptly. Zoro smacked into you, and he groaned out in pain.

“Pick a spot,” you said, ignoring his grumbling. “Do you know what Haki is?”

He gave you a scowl, which you took as his answer.

You coated your hand in armament haki and held it up to show him. “You ever done this before?”

His scowl deepened, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. How could this man best your father if he didn’t even know what haki was.

“Haki is your spiritual energy, which you can harness and use in various ways.”

“I don’t know what that has to do with beating baboons.”

“Because,” you hissed, irritated with his arogance. “This cut-”

You sliced at the air with your blade, sending a slash to the tops of the trees. Several branches fell to the ground.

“Turns into this.”

You infused haki into Nikko, sending a glance his way before slicing the area next to the one you had just cut. It was a clean cut, and the tops of multiple trees completely toppled, crashing to the ground.

Zoro’s jaw dropped for a moment, but he quickly corrected it. He tried not to look too impressed, but you could feel pride swelling in your chest. You had proven yourself to him, in a minor yet crucial way.

“Teach me,” he said, desperation in his voice.

“I can’t,” you replied.

“Then why’d you show me?!”

“You have to learn it yourself, idiot!” you shouted back. “So pick a spot!”

He grumbled, but he walked over to a flat rooftop and sat down. You joined him, holding out a hankerchief. He stared at you, skeptical of the piece of cloth.

“Around your eyes,” you said, pointing at his face.

“What?” he hissed.

“Do you trust me?”

He frowned at you. “I don’t know you enough to trust you.”

You groaned, turning and walking away from him. You were exasperated with his constant mood switches. “If you don’t want my help then I’m leaving. Find your own way home.”

“Wait!” he shouted. “Fine. But I’m using my own.”

When you turned back, you saw him tying a bandana around his head and pulling it down over his eyes.

“Okay,” you nodded. You bent down, picking up a stick from the ground. “Now dodge.”

“What?!?!” He screamed, but when you swung, he moved out of the way instinctively.

The fact that your stick didn’t make contact with him on the first attempt shocked you. Either his senses were sharp, or…

You swung again, and he dodged. Time and time again, you swung and missed him.

“You do know what haki is!” you pouted. You were hoping you’d get at least one hit in.

“What do you mean?” He raised his bandana off one eye, looking up at you.

“Your observation haki is super refined!” you complimented. He deserved that much. “It’ll make it easier to transfer that concept to armament haki.”

“Oh.” Zoro did his best to act disinterested, but you could see his cheeks pink at your compliment.

“So the feeling you had when you could sense my movements?! You know that feeling?” You looked at him, waiting for him to respond, but he just shrugged.

“I just know how to do it. It’s not really a feeling.”

You frowned. There was definitely a feeling you associated with it. It’s how your father explained it too. The mossy-haired man probably just wasn’t paying enough attention.

“Close your eyes again. Really focus on the feelings you’re experiencing when you dodge.”

You swung another twenty times, and he dodged them all. No matter how indifferent or how much malice you put into the swings, he always avoided your attack.

“You know the feeling now?” you asked after the last swing.

“I don’t have a feeling!” he shot back, still blindfolded.

“Are you focusing on how you feel?!”

“No!” he yelled. “I’m focusing on you!”

You rolled your eyes. “Focus on yourself.”

“I can’t!” he shot back.

“Why not?” you growled.

“You’re too damn distracting!” He said, tugging his bandana off his head to stare at you.

You ignored the heat rushing to your cheeks and used his outburst as a way to take a deep breath and focus yourself before you responded. “Well stop focusing on me. Focus on my attacks, and how they make you feel.”

“I already know how they make me feel,” he muttered under his breath. He pulled his bandana over his eyes again, and you swung.

You smacked him, and he yelped out in pain.

“What the hell?!” he demanded. “I wasn’t ready!”

“Focus!” you screamed, swinging again.

He dodged this time, though it was a later reaction than it had been before. You could tell he was trying to follow your instructions, even if they didn’t make much sense to him. After a few swings, he seemed to flow better in his dodges.

“You can feel it,” you said, dropping the stick to the ground.

“I think so.” He didn’t sound too sure. “It’s like a weird tingling sensation.”

“Yes!” you shouted in triumph, and he jumped at your loudness. “Now you just have to harness that tingling sensation and put it around you, kind of like an exoskeleton.”

“An exo-what now?” He pulled his bandana up again so it sat normally on his head. His eyes were full of confusion.

You hummed, trying to think of a proper synonym. “Kind of like a shell?”

“And then I just push it into my swords?”

“We’ll get to the sword part after you get the armorment haki down.” You didn’t want him wearing himself down to the bone in one day.

He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. You could see his body tensing, his muscles clenching together in effort.

“Zoro?” you sang his name like a soft melody, and you saw his teeth grit in frustration.

“I’m focusing!” he snapped.

“Yeah, I see that. I just think-”

He shouted in frustration and stood up, pulling out one of his blades and slashing it at nothing. “I can do it myself, okay?” he yelled, looking at you.

You didn’t react. You just stared at him with an irritated expression, waiting for him to calm down. He finally did, heaving deep breaths from his energy being gone after so much training through the day.

“Come on.” You turned back towards the castle. “You’re too worked up. It’s not going to work if your mind isn’t right.”

“Do whatever you want,” he huffed. “I’m not coming back until I get this.”

He’d be out here all night even if he didn’t start wandering off. “Zoro-”

“Leave!” he yelled. “You’re distracting me, woman!”

“Fine,” you snapped back. You sped towards the treeline without another word, refusing to look back at him.

You couldn’t believe the audacity of that swordsman. You offered your kindness, just for him to treat you like this. Your father always said pirates weren’t honorable, they they could turn on a dime, and Roronoa Zoro seemed to be the perfect example of that. You wanted to scream at him for being so rude. Let him get lost, let him fight all of the baboons at once. Whatever happened to him, he brought upon himself.

You made it back to the castle as the sun was slowly sinking down over the ridge, and you were irritated to learn that your entire day had been wasted on some ungrateful man. You stormed into the castle and past your father without a word. You were about to head up the stairs when he addressed you.

“Busy day?” he asked. You could hear the sly question in his voice.

“Are you going to chastise me for helping an outsider?” you snapped back, your anger still bubbling inside of you.

His eyes gave you a warning glare, letting you know that your attitude was pushing his patience. “I take it the lessons did not go well.”

You took a breath. “He doesn’t want my help.” You felt calmer now that you were talking to your father. He was so level headed, everything was so simple with him. It brought you back down to rational thinking.

“Why do you think that is?”

“Probably because I’m a girl,” you scoffed. “And he doesn’t want me helping him make any progress.”

Your father laughed dryly. “I believe half of that answer is right.”

You squinted your eyes at him, trying to decipher the code he was speaking in, but he changed the subject before your could figure it out.

“Would you like to spar tomorrow morning?”

“With Yoru?” you asked eagerly, excitement bubbling inside you.

“If you would like.”

“Yes!” You jumped with glee, and your father smiled at your joy.

You grinned for the rest of the night, excited for what would come in the morning. You were so consumed in getting ready for your own battle with your father, you didn’t realize that Zoro had never made it back to the castle.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece fic #one piece x you #zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #cozage #TMTGIG #✧˚zoro✧˚

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lou-struck · 1 year

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Tea for Two

Barbatos x reader

Prompt: 😘 + tea party

~ Barbatos has a special date planned for the two of you.

Wc: 1K

~This is one of the requested prompts for My Emoticon Expression’s Event; check out the masterlist on my welcome page.

Where are you taking me?” you giggle as he leads you through the garden, the pleasant scent of roses and the other surrounding blossoms flowing under your nose. If it weren’t for Barbatos’ gloved hand’s lovingly firm grip on your own, you would have stopped to smell each one and admire the myriad of multicolored petals that rest dewy under the ethereally bright moonlight. But instead, you are captivated by Butler’s emerald gaze as he looks back at you.

“Little Rose, don’t you trust me?” he asks softly. His lips quirk up in his usual easy smile. Years of practice renders his immortal face unreadable to whatever mischievous intentions he has been planning.

You nod, giving his hand a little squeeze. “I do trust you. I just have never been to this part of the castle garden. These rose bushes are enormous. I’ve never seen ones so large and healthy.”

“As usual, you’re too kind,” he says politely. “As a butler, I am merely doing my duty to make the grounds worthy of the Young Master.” Although his words are practiced and humble, the pride he feels from your genuine compliments slips through his facade.

He wouldn’t tell you this, but you make his carefully crafted mask crack more than anyone else in the three realms. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Now, Mc, if you’d please, come this way,” he says softly, leading you from the usual laid brick pathway onto a smaller mossy cobblestone pathway.

The stones stand out amongst the rich moss and glisten in the Devildom’s alluring moonlight as if they had been dusted by diamonds.

If you were confused as to where the Butler had been taking you before, now you are doubly so. You open your mouth to ask again, but he stops prompting you to do the same.

Before you is a hedge of rose bushes, far larger than any of the others in the garden. You look around, trying to figure out why the path just stops at the wall.

“Is this a secret entrance?” you ask the Butler softly.

“Indeed it is. I knew you would figure it out,” he smiles proudly, flashing just a bit of his pearly white teeth. “Now, if you would please step back, I shall take us further.

You do as he says, reluctantly letting you of his hand and taking a large step back, watching as the Butler raises his hands towards the rose wall and mumbles an enchantment in a language you cannot even begin to understand.

The wall of roses begins to gently part around the pathway, making it wide enough for the two of you to step through. The rose’s delicate petals remain unharmed.

“Will you take my arm?” Barbatos asks softly, extending his arms towards you.

“I’d be delighted.” You nod, walking alongside him through the enchanted hedge. The pathway only seems to shine brighter as you make it to the other side.

As soon as you make it safely through the barrier, the walls behind you regrow to the position they were in before. Hiding the two of you from the rest of the world.

The other side of the wall is even more breathtaking than the previous side. A rich fountain of sapphire blue water flows in the center of the clearing providing sustenance for the enormously wonderland-esque blossoms. But what most catches your eye is the quaint table and chairs set up in front of the fountain. Containing a complete tea set and a tiered platter of mouth-watering treats.

“What is all this?” you ask, running your hand along the smooth glass surface of the table.

He gives you a knowing smile and pulls a chair out for you to sit in. “I believe I owe you afternoon tea.”

“Barbatos,” you murmur, remembering how he had canceled your last tea time due to urgent business with Diavolo, you understood that his loyalty to the crown comes first, but you had never expected him to repay you in such a lavish manner. “You did not need to do all this; you work so hard as it is.”

His gaze softens as he looks at you, “I wanted to do this, Mc. I promise you are not forcing my hand.”

His words are comforting, but you still have to ask those three little words that run through your mind more often than not. “Are you sure?”

He closes the space between you with a little hum, “Absolutely. Would you like me to prove it to you?”

Your head nods too quickly to be subtle, and he takes the gesture as an invitation to show you exactly what he means. His lips find your own in the same manner as Barbatos does everything in his life. Perfectly.

The pressure, the care, the warmth.

All of it makes your heart flutter and your head spin.

Although the two of you are sharing a secret tea party in hell, you feel that with his lips on yours, you are closer to heaven than you have ever been in your life.

He pulls away softly, eyes crinkling at the way your lips still reach out to his.” There, did that prove it to you?”

You can t help the breathless smile that tugs at your lips, “Yes.”

“Good,” he cups your cheek. “You mean the world to me, don’t ever think you are not worthy of a bit of extra effort.”

“When you put it that way, I cannot possibly disagree with you.” you laugh, placing a smaller kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for all of this; it all looks delicious.”

Despite the kiss from earlier, the soft, tender one on the Demon’s cheek is the one that makes his cheeks turn pink. “I’d do it again a thousand times over,” he murmurs, trailing his hand tenderly along the side of your face. “Now let’s take a seat; we wouldn’t want our tea to get cold; it’s a special blend I made myself.”

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me x you #barbatos fluff #barbatos x mc #barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos #Emoji Event!

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bekkathyst · 9 months

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Custom Wire Wrapped Necklaces

These are the stones I have available for wire wraps, for those of you who are interested!

If you would like to claim one, please be sure to read this entire post!

So here’s the rundown. Below is a picture with each stone numbered, and below that is the name of each stone, along with the price.

The price includes the following: the stone wrapped in the metal of your choice (sterling silver, 14k gold fill, 14k rose gold fill), an 18″ chain finished with a handmade clasp, and it includes free shipping worldwide!

You will choose the style they’d like it wrapped in. There are three example pics below.

Payment is due when the stone is claimed and all the options are chosen (metal, style, etc). PLEASE NOTE - these will be completed by the end of August 2023. There's always a possibility that something comes up that causes a delay, but I do try to get them early. They take a long time to make, please make sure you’re okay with the wait before ordering. I put the utmost care into this and have extreme attention to detail, and when that combines with my busy schedule, it means that it can take a while. If you are buying one for a certain event or deadline please be sure to let me know when ordering, so I can let you know if it’s possible for it to be completed before then!

To claim: send me a message over the instant messenger with your email address, the country you’re in, the stone you’d like to claim, the metal you’d like it wrapped in, and the style you’d like it wrapped in. I’ll then send your invoice and get started on your pendant! :)

*Note* These are some of my best, highest quality stones! I’ve been collecting (and hoarding, if I’m honest) hundreds of top-quality stones for 10 years to build this collection I can share with you. All the stones from Italy were sourced from a lapidarist who mined and hand-cut every single piece in the Italian Alps.

Here are all the stones:

Dendritic Agate - $130

Mossy Kyanite - $165

Silver Sapphire - $140

Included Quartz - $140

Chevron Amethyst - $130

High-Grade Larimar - $170

Moss Agate - $140

Deep Blue Labradorite - $150

Silvery Green Labradorite - $150

Rainbow Labradorite - $150

Rainbow Moonstone - $160

Rainbow Moonstone - $130

Rainbow Moonstone - $140

Black Sunstone - $140

Sunstone - $135

Combination Sunstone / Moonstone - $165

Lapis Lazuli - $150

Lapis Lazuli - $130

Spectrolite from Finland - $165

Specrtolite from Finland - $165

Purpurite - $130

Koroit Boulder Opal - $175

Koroit Boulder Opal - $160

Koroit Boulder Opal - $140

Koroit Boulder Opal - $195

Australian Purple Crystal Opal - $185

Alurgite from Italy - $150

Jade from Italy - $140

Jade from Italy - $160

Pyrope Garnet with Ellenbergerite from Italy - $170

Pyrope Garnet with Ellenbergerite from Italy - $180

Violan from Italy - $150

Violan from Italy - $160

Rhodnite from Italy - $130

Rhodonite from Italy - $130

Serpentine from Italy - $185

These are the styles you can choose from (I do very minimalist wrapping so the stone really shines through! And the wrapping is super sturdy!)

Style #1 (prongs):

Style #2 (symmetrical):

Style #3 (asymmetrical):

I will cross out each stone as they are claimed!

Extra little note: I have some square wire if you prefer that to the round, just let me know!

Thanks, everyone :)

#original #jewelry #custom wire wrap #custom wire wraps

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scribblecake · 7 months

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How I've Missed You

Warnings: NSWF, swearing.

@zeezeecave @shanas-baby @blkbinz @imjusthere2readbruv @mybonafidefeelings @xenaizogie

what even is proofreading at this point?

Pure smut. No plot. Just smut.

I have no excuse. Enjoy(?)

~***~

Rain showered down upon red dirt. Thunder rolled and crashed as cool water washed over thirsting greenery. Nanisca welcomed the calming droplets. They left chilled streaks across her heated flesh while she made her way through thick underbrush.

Hushed determination fueled rippling muscle to move silently over mossy stones, over fallen trunks, and then finally through a gurgling creek. Nanisca only stopped when she came to a small cottage covered in blooming vines. Elation tugged a smile to stoic lips and the general sauntered to its carved front door, giving it three rapid knocks.

Shuffling, then a loud bang followed by a harried “Get lost! We’re closed!” came from within.

Nanisca bit her lip to keep from chuckling. “Even for me?”

Another bang, the clinking glass bottles, then frantic scrambling sounded from behind the door before it was hastily swung open. Peering up at her was a short, slender woman with shoulder-length braids. Bits of dried most and leaves clung to her braids. A variety of mystery concoctions smeared her clothes. Deep brown eyes peered up at Nanisca from thick lashes. Both women froze for a moment. Eyes locked and, for a moment, it was as if the very Earth had stopped breathing…

Then there was an explosion of motion.

Lips crashed together, hands found purchase in muscled curves, bodies locked together like puzzle pieces. The two pulled apart. Breathless gasps steamed the air with a pleasant tension. Anticipation, longing, excitement. So many energies crackled like lightning in the storm between them.

Wordlessly, Nanisca was pulled inside and roughly pushed onto a plush pile of blankets. She couldn’t hold it this time. A chuckle escaped her lips at her lover’s urgency. However when rolling onto her back she was met with an unexpectedly angry glare.

“I haven’t heard a word from you in six months, you ass!”

Nanisca’s smile dropped. “I know…”

“I’ve fucking missed you! I’ve been worried sick!”

The general flinched at the raw pain in her lover’s voice. She hadn't meant to go so long without visiting. But battle, politics, and duty kept her away. The few times Nanisca had to herself, she had been far too exhausted and bruised to make the long trek into the jungle. Her hand reached out to pull her love down into her arms.

“Apologies my darling dove… the palace has been nothing but chaos as of late. Not to mention new trainees that demand the rest of my time, attention, and energy... but I’m here now~” As she spoke, Nanisca placed tender kisses to her love’s collar bones. An unamused hum greeted her in response.

But mere proximity to her love clouded her mind. Nanisca boldly let her strong hands grip at silken thighs. She prayed all that she couldn’t say would translate through her touch. Brown eyes gazed down at her full of warring emotions. Relief, anger, joy, and love, love, love.

Velvety lips kissed at the corner of the warrior’s mouth. “I love you Nani, but for fucks sake!”

Nanisca chuckled lowly before fully entangling herself in her love’s warm body.

“Oh dove. You know not of the pain I had to endure. I’ve had to go about my days aching for you, but unable to drown in you.” Plump lips ghosted over the shell of an ear before the general nipped at its lobe. “I’d love to show you just how much I’ve missed you~”

~***~

“Mh, again~” Nanisca husked. Sweat dripped down her toned body as she panted and rested her chin on her love’s shoulder. Kisses littered every inch of skin available. A sly tongue even made an appearance. It dragged hotly over the soft expanse lain bare before it.

“A-again? Darling, I don’t think I can- mh!~ ... t-that was already m-my fourth…”

Nanisca gave a gentle coo. Her hand came up to work tantalizing patterns on heaving and sensitive breasts. “And I can give you many more. Would you like that, dearest?”

Her lover squirmed in her lap. A lustful ‘yes’ escaped the flushed and sweaty woman. “Mmh, but a small rest first.”

Nanisca couldn’t help but smirk to herself. How lucky she was to have such a beauty desperately needy for her. Reluctant hands withdrew themselves as shuddering forms shifted to sit upright.

Outside, the rhythmic driving of pouring skies added a comfortable layer of static to fill the space. Rain combined with the heat of the day resulted in steamy heat in the small cottage. Sex saturated the air with its heady scent. Wanton desire and passion ignited to near sinful levels, leaving Nanisca wanting to make a mess of her woman all over again.

Yet she forced herself to stay still. Instead the warrior shifted to grab a jug of water that was kept to the side of the bed and passed it to her love. Sensual calm spread over the duo as they caught their breath. Though throbbing heat persisted in Nanisca’s core. It begged for attention. Demanded it.

“Dove, I’d very much like to have you again.”

The other woman paused. A sparkle that the warrior knew all too well, shimmered in her eyes. Then a hand lifted, “Come and take me then, warrior.” she breathed with a crook of her finger.

Lust coiled and Nanisca sprung to action. She surged forward, all rippling muscles and impatience. The next few hours were spent with both women completely entangled in one another. True to her word, Nanisca showered her sweet dove with release after release while basking in touch herself.

The warrior lost herself in the pleasure those gentle hands gave her. They clawed at her back, caressed sweetly at her jaw, twisted her budding nipples and made her feel the love she craved. Her hands slid down slender legs to grab them at their ankles. Kneeling on her knees she hooked the legs up and over her shoulders.

Her love now lay half suspended with her glistening cunt presented to the ceiling. Nanisca wasted no time in burying her face in the sopping folds. Fervent sucks and an agile tongue filled the room with sinful music. Each desperate lap was harmonized with wet slurping that drove them both wild.

Eyes rolled back. Breathy moans split the air. The general let the sticky sweet nectar coat her mouth. She fully submitted to it. How she missed this taste! Nanisca let the sapid juices soak her cheeks and chin before fixing her lips around a swollen clit. Her cheeks hollowed with suction, ripping a wail from her upside down lover. The woman in question held a blissed out expression on her face. Tears dotted the corners of her doe eyes.

However, the warrior’s own need made itself known again. Aching throbs jolted her core and made it weep with arousal. A growl rumbled deep in her chest as she arched forward to lay her love on the flat of her back. An arm hooked down to lift a leg. Nanisca burned with want as she hovered her dripping center over her beloved’s.

Lower lips kissed. Heat boiled against wet heat in an explosion of pure ecstacy. Sensation jolted pleasure up the warrior’s spine. Hips canted forward as sinful groans escaped them both. Sweat dotted her brow, dripping down her abdomen while it flexed with the steady pace she set. Nanisca threw her head back at the unbridled euphoria that coursed through her body.

Breathy whines sounded from beneath her. They grew in pitch and frequency with each thrust of the general’s hips. Silken hands climbed their way up her stomach to rub electrifying circles on her swollen nipples, drawing out deep groans.

The warrior angled herself downward, “I’ve dreamed of seeing you like this. so. many. times.” she growled while pointing each word with a thrust. “The sheer amount of times I’ve had to sit in the council with your moans echoing in my mind, it's shameful really…”

A whine warbled from her lover’s throat. The other woman could only buck her hips weakly in response. Arousal tightened in Nanisca’s core. Hips snapped forward and began to command a mind numbing pace. She angled herself so that their dripping buds rubbed against each other constantly. Her core clenched as she hurtled towards her release.

The general was vaguely aware that the bed was shaking violently. Maybe even a little too much. The headboard banged out an obscene rhythm as it hit the wall. It was oddly satisfying for Nanisca’s ego. Though smug gratification quickly morphed to panic, then all consuming cockiness.

C R A C K !

T H U D !

C R A S H !

Gravity and momentum threw Nanisca forward and down as the bed fell down from under her knees. Legs hooked around her waist and she threw caution to the wind. Without missing a beat the thrusts continued.

“You broke my fucking bed!~”

“Yes.”

“You shedemon! Dont fucking stop!~”

And just like that they were tumbling over the edge into oblivion. Coils of arousal snapped, unleashing torrents of boiling wetness. Cores spasmed and clenched, breath stuttered and gasped, all while loud cries split through the hazy twilight.

Nanisca’s chest heaved. She rolled onto her back, drawing her love’s languid frame into her arms. Breathless and satisfied post sex tranquility weighed their limbs.

Rain gently tapped a soothing melody on dense undergrowth. It lulled the pair into comfortable silence as they soaked in each other’s company. After a while, Nanisca felt a shift in her arms and she met flashing eyes with her own. Lips twisted into a mischievous smirk.

“I don’t think I’ve quite gotten your point… how much did you really miss me?”

~***~

#nanisca #the woman king #hot damn 🥵#smut #smut fic #sapphic #im gay as fuck #gay panic #viola davis #fanfiction

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pterodactyl-hater · 10 months

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Explorer’s Honor

・❥・An explorer accidentally stumbles into a not so abandoned castle and meets the lady of the home

・❥・word count: 1.5k

・❥・warnings: mentions of sex, reader is written as not living in Europe, reader is not male aligned/men dni, not beta read (😭)

・❥・@aquavenus58 thank you SO MUCH for requesting!!! I was on a vacation and didn’t check tumblr so this is pretty late. Hope you like it 💕

As an explorer you traveled vast horizons in the name of adventure. Currently you were spending two months in Europe. You had expertly planned every village, town, and castle you would pass through. Except for one.

You didn’t even intend on staying in Romania long, but after your cab abandoned you on the side of a slick and snowy road claiming he wouldn’t drive you any further, you really had no choice. It seemed as if you were dumped in the middle of a ghost town. Broken down houses and boarded up windows and doors littered the town. But one thing stood out. A beautiful castle overlooked the town, one that you hadn’t seen on any of your exploration sites. You half thought you’d be the first person to discover it.

The chill from the snow and wind had started to seep into your skin, burying itself in your very bones like knives. ‘None of these houses look particularly warm.’ You thought. Logically thinking you knew that the castle wouldn't be much warmer but you decided to start the trek there despite yourself. The was a cracked and mossy stone path that led to the Castle, weeds and grass started to sprout up in it. You didn't know how long the path was but you were completely exhausted and numb by the end of it. The doorway was grand, beautiful stone and a oddly well kept plants greeted you. Just as a precaution you knocked on the door using the golden knocker in the shape of a bat. You waited for three minutes before assuming the castle was abandoned and open for a night.

The chandelier was lit, and the castle radiated warmth. Those were the first things you noticed. Red flags rose in your head, there was no way this place was completely abandoned and still had this kind of upkeep. Driven by a need to be out of the cold you stepped in and let the door shut behind you regardless. The air was still and suffocating. You looked around to search for any sign of life, nothing. Wind blew through the windows and made creeks in the wood, at least you hoped it was the wind that made those sounds. You took cautious steps around the hallway, soaking in the grand stairway and ornate chandelier. Your footsteps echoed and you cursed yourself for your loudness. There was a creek from upstairs that sounded almost like footsteps, like heels clicking against the tile floors.

“Hello?” You said, not wanting to be too loud. There was no response. A few flies swarmed you, but you shooed them off with no mind. Your feet carried you through the elaborate hallways, and you pulled your camera out of your bag to snap a few photos for later; if this was an unmarked and potentially abandoned castle you could get large amounts of money for discovering it. There were the footsteps again. You froze and your blood ran cold. They were getting closer, the quiet yet steady click of heels against tile approached you.

click..

click…

click….

Someone else was in the room with you, right behind you. You take a slow shaking step forward. One foot in front of the other. The thing didn’t take any steps forward. You try to increase your pace before a cold voice rings out.

“Don’t run, little thing.”

You should’ve stayed outside. No amount of cold could compare to the shiver that went down your spine. Obediently, you didn’t run, instead opting to stay in place and not look at whatever was there. It sounded human, maybe it was the owner? But the way the air in the room changed and the louder than life steps that were taken made it seem like a creature rather than a person. It starts walking again, towards you. You squeezed your eyes shut and tucked your head down as it approached.

“What is your name?”

You hold your breath and don’t respond. Sweat drips down your brow.

“I know you heard me.”

“(Y/n).” You state quietly, your voice shaking. Without even opening your eyes you start to sputter an apology. “I-I didn’t know anyone owned this place! I was dumped my driver and it’s so cold outside I assumed this was abandoned, because of the abandoned village, so I’m didn’t freeze. I’m sorry to have broken and entered and whatnot.” You stumbled over your words and barely took a breath in between them. You start to crack your eyes open to look at whoever was in front of you.

A woman was face level with you. She must’ve been a bit taller than you because she was crouched down to meet your level. Your face heated up as you looked at her. She had a smile on her red painted lips and her deep eyes stared into your own.

“Most drivers tend to avoid driving here.” The woman started, completely ignoring how you intruded into her home. “Were you not warned of such?” She tilted her head. She had a gleam in her eyes as if she was daring you to admit that you had deeper motives in coming here.

“No.” Your voice was meeker than intended. “I thought I did ample research about the area before coming here, but apparently not…” You trailed off. You took a few steps backwards and kept your gaze trained on the floor.

“Research?” Her voice was smooth and velvety. Despite your complete and utter humiliation, and the fact that in all technically she could threaten legal action, you found yourself craving to hear more of her. She spoke elegantly, it could be compared to a glass of red wine. It was intoxicating. You almost missed her question.

“Um… yes research! I’m and explorer so I like to visit castles and villages and things of that sort, especially abandoned ones.” You rambled on. “I’m actually on a trip here to Europe on these adventures of sorts. I guess I should’ve looked into my travel a bit more.” The woman laughed silkily. She stood up to her full height causing you to gasp at her size. She was larger than any human you had ever seen, in fact she was larger than just about any human. The woman smirked down at you as if she knew the effect she had on you. She started walking back towards the door, waving her hand to urge you to follow her.

“You poor thing, being forced into the snow.” She tutted. “You don’t have to worry about that here in the castle of Dimitrescu.” You racked your brain for any castle you had heard of that matched that name. You came up short.

“Dimitrescu?” You curiously looked up at her, still stunned by her height. She was at least nine feet tall, maybe even ten.

“Yes that is my name, Alcina Dimitrescu.” She finally introduced herself, still walking ahead of you. Another swarm of flies buzzed around before leaving quickly. Alcina turned to face you. You got to look upon her face more closely this time. Her features were defined and mature, she had smile lines etched into her face and her eyes were deep-set. Her dark hair fell in shirt pin curls and her height made her all the more appealing to you. You admired her amber eyes and her pronounced cupids bow. The red lipstick she wore suited her well. You wondered how her lipstick would look staining your face, or your neck, or-

“So as I was saying,” Alcina said. Your head reeled from your wild thoughts and back to the tall woman. “There are plenty of rooms that are yours for the taking, for tonight of course.” Alcina led you down winding and beautiful hallways. “I apologize if my daughters happen to bother you. They can get a bit rowdy at times.” She warned. You felt your heart sink in disappointment. This beautiful woman had a family, she probably had a husband that she was waiting to return to bed too. You wonder what kind of bed she sleeps in due to her height.

you took a deep steadying breath before speaking. “A-and your husband?” You tested the waters.

“Oh, I don’t have one.” She replied simply, not explaining further. It didn’t matter, hope had ignited once again. She led you to a hallway with many elaborate doors, not that the other hallways didn’t have elaborate doors, but this one was different. “Here are the bedrooms. You’re allowed any and all of them.”

You look at her in confirmation, as if she would tell you this was all a trick and kick you back out in the snowy cold. “You’re too kind. Thank you.” You nod, walking towards the closest door.

“It’s no bother, I couldn’t let a pretty thing like you freeze out there.” Alcina chuckled before walking away. Your face heated up and you tucked yourself away inside the room, a flustered mess.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #lesbian #request #resident evil x reader #resident evil #resident evil 8 #lady dimitrescu

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rpgsandbox · 3 months

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The 10 Most Anticipated TTRPGs For 2024!

EN World's annual vote on the most anticipated titles of the coming year, and yes, some games have appeared on this list in previous years.

10 Tales of the Valiant (Kobold Press)

1st appearance Kobold Press joins the 'alternate 5E' club with this rewritten, non-OGL version of the game! A million dollar Kickstarter last year, and a new one for the GM's book going on right now, Kobold Press announced this as 'Project Black Flag' during the OGL crisis of 2023, but being unable to trademark that name opted for Tales of the Valiant instead. The system, however, is still called the Black Flag Roleplaying System.

9. Mothership 1E (Tuesday Night Games)

3rd appearance On this list three years running, the boxed Mothership 1E game should be coming out this year! This is sci-fi horror at its best -- you can play scientists, teamsters, androids, and marines using the d100 'Panic Engine'. Yep, it's Alien(s), pretty much.

8. Monty Python's Cocurricular Mediaeval Reenactment Program (Exalted Funeral)

2nd Appearance Exalted Funeral made quite a splash when they announced this game last year, which went on to make neary $2M on Kickstarter. And how could they not? It's Monty Python fergoodnessake! A rules-lite gaming system, spam, a minigame with catapults, spam, coconut dice rollers, spam, and an irrepressible Python-eque sense of humour. Did I mention the spam? It was at #10 on this list last year, but it's claimed to #8 this year.

7. Daggerheart (Darrington Press)

1st appearance From the Critical Role folks, Daggerheart is a new fantasy TTRPG with its own original system coming out this year with "A fresh take on fantasy RPGs, designed for long-term campaign play and rich character progression."

6. Cohors Cthulhu (Modiphius)

1st appearance It's Ancient Rome. It's Cthulhu. It uses Modiphius' in-house 2d20 System. You can be a gladiator, a centurion, or a Germanic hero. Did I mention Cthulhu?

5. Dolmenwood (Necrotic Gnome)

1st appearance The British Isles, a ton of folklore, and a giant Kickstarter--Dolmenwood is a dark, whimsical fantasy TTRPG drawing from fairy tales and lets you "journey through tangled woods and mossy bowers, forage for magical mushrooms and herbs, discover rune-carved standing stones and hidden fairy roads, venture into fungal grottoes and forsaken ruins, battle oozing monstrosities, haggle with goblin merchants, and drink tea with fairies."

4. Pendragon 6E (Chaosium)

4th appearance Last year's winner was on this list waaaaay back in 425 AD, and it's still here! Well, maybe not that far back, but it's shown up in 2021 at #4, 2022 at #3, 2023 at #1, and now 2024 at #4! What can we say? People are clearly anticipating it... still.

3. 13th Age 2nd Edition (Pelgrane Press)

2nd appearance 13th Age is over a decade old now, and was our most anticipated game way back in 2013. Now the new edition is coming! It's compatible with the original, but revised and with a ton more... stuff! 13th Age 2E was #3 in last year's list!

2. The Electric State Roleplaying Game (Free League)

1st appearance Free League is always on these lists, and for good reason. This gorgeous looking game is described as "A road trip on the verge of reality in visual artist and author Simon Stålenhag's vision of an apocalyptic alternate 1990s".

1. Shadow of the Weird Wizard (Schwalb Entertainment)

3rd appearance First announced by Rob Schwalb a couple of years ago, this is a more family-friendly version of his acclaimed RPG, Shadow of the Demon Lord. SHADOW OF THE WEIRD WIZARD is a fantasy roleplaying game in which you and your friends assume the roles of characters who explore the borderlands and make them safe for the refugees escaping the doom that has befallen the old country. Unsafe are these lands: the Weird Wizard released monsters to roam the countryside, cruel faeries haunt the shadows, undead drag themselves free from their tombs, and old, ancient evils stir once more. If the displaced people would rebuild their lives, they need heroes to protect them. Finally at the top of the list after being #7 in 2022, and #6 in 2023!

#RPG #Tales of the Valiant #Mothership #Monty Python #Daggerheart #Cohors Cthulhu #Dolmenwood #Pendragon #13th Age #The Electric State #Shadow of the Weird Wizard

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bardnuts · 4 months

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Be Gay, Do Drugs, Hail Satan - Chapter 6 - katabatic - Baldur's Gate (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own]

My fic is not dead my fic is not dead my fic is n

Now you’ve really done it. Crouching in the shadows behind a cracked sarcophagus, you listen to the ambient popping of bones and frantically review your options.

Abandoning that wretched bard to his fate has probably bought you some time. While the risen undead are devouring Twill, you can creep your way to the exit and escape into the—

—the wilderness, where, finding yourself once more alone and friendless, you will be at the mercy of any hunters Cazador sends your way—

—or else doomed to hideous transformation in some fetid swamp, succumbing to ceremorphosis, tentacles spilling from your beautiful face—

You shudder violently. No. It won’t happen. Across the chamber, Twill cowers against the wall, brandishing his lute as the risen scribes advance on him. You unsling your bow and nock an arrow. You can’t let that fool bard die. He’s your only asset—you just collected him.

You need him.

Your arrow punches through vertebrae and propels the scribe into the path of Twill’s lute, resulting in a discordant twang and an explosion of bones. The remaining undead cast about for you, skulls swiveling on their dusty necks, but you’ve already slid across the floor and into the shadow of a broad pillar. Safe.

Twill takes advantage of their lapsed attention to fling himself into an open tomb.

Think, you command yourself. You’re going to get out of this alive if it kills you again. You can’t escape the way you came in—even through several layers of stone walls you can hear the muffled explosions. Your best way out of here is a break in the chapel wall, a V-shape of cascading stone, through which you can see slick limestone stalactites and a distant mist of sunlight.

Unfortunately, five clattering undead stand between you and safety. They’re searching for you in an aimless, meandering fashion, still just a little too mindless to know exactly what they’re looking for.

You peer around the pillar for a better look. The skeletons are well-armed, for scribes. That one is definitely a wizard. And Twill has risen head and shoulders from his hiding place and is making frantic hand signals at you. This idiot is going to get the both of you killed.

Then he strums his lute.

In the shadowy recesses at the other end of the chamber, something meows. Bones rattle as the scribes turn to face the noise, and you whip your head around in time to see a spectral feline wave its tail in a languid taunt before it turns and slips into the darkness. What in the—

Wait. Their backs are turned. The path to the doors is clear. This is your chance.

You break out from behind the pillar with an arrow nocked, draw the string, and fire mid-stride, sliding home into your new cover behind a crumbling sarcophagus as one of the scribes explodes into pieces. By the time the others react, you’re hidden again and a few precious steps closer to escape. With the blood pounding in your ears, you glance toward Twill’s hiding place.

The bard winks at you, wiggles his fingers, and plucks a single bright note.

Meow.

The scribes cast about wildly. A kitten leaps off the top of Jergal’s mossy statue and vanishes on impact with the ground. You draw. You step out of cover. You fire.

Another one bites the dust.

You drop back into the shadows and press yourself to the floor as one of the scribes clatters past, only feet away from you. There’s only three of them left. By the gods, that’s almost manageable, so long as you’re both careful. Your deranged bard is turning out to be quite the find, isn’t he?

With a silent breath, you set down your bow and draw your dagger. It’s a dull blade with a long, sordid history: until quite recently, it was Cazador’s favorite cheese knife. When the scribe passes your hiding place, you surge up and slip the dull edge between two dusty vertebrae. The skeleton collapses.

Dexterity: Critical failure

A cloud of bone dust goes straight up your nose. You double over, coughing uncontrollably, and sag against a pillar.

There’s no hiding now. The two remaining scribes are charging toward you, both heavily armored and sporting spiked clubs, and although these weapons are rusted halfway to the hells and flaking away before your eyes, the ravages of time has not diminished their ability to transform a humanoid skull into an explosion of brain matter, and in spite of this your unparalleled instinct for self-preservation has been overridden by a fistful of inhaled dust and so you can do nothing, nothing, except watch their charge through streaming eyes,

and then Twill hurls a chunk of rock across the tomb and knocks one of them clear off its feet. The other falters, and you manage, just barely, to dodge its poorly-aimed blow and stumble around the side of the pillar, gasping for breath.

“Ho, ugly!”

Your stomach drops to your toes. Twill is standing on a sarcophagus, in full view directly in front of the doors, with one hand resting against his instrument and the other cocking back for another throw. The scribes turn immediately for this easier prey. Twill’s second throw misses by a mile, and now he’s armed only with a lute, and for the second time in as many minutes you resign yourself to finding a new source of protection.

Twill plays a strange, discordant chord, one-two-three-four.

MEOW.

The doors behind him burst open and a wave of spectral cats crests and crashes into the derelict tomb.

Hundreds of them, cats and kittens, shorthairs and longhairs and tabbies and tressyms and ugly flat-noses with bottlebrush tails and you think you even see a lion in there somewhere, all rising and breaking with the graceful fluidity that only cats and running water possess. Their shapes bleed into one another as Twill’s fingers blur over the neck of his lute, each note steering the tide in a new direction.

As the undead scribes reel around in the bewildering thrall of this illusion, you manage to scrape your jaw off the floor and hurl your dagger into Twill’s feline crescendo. The knife turns once in the air and decapitates its unfortunate target. The sole remaining scribe finds its objective—you—and takes a single unsteady step.

Sparks play around your fingertips, swelling into flame. You raise your arm.

“Ignis!”

Your last assailant is thus reduced to a pile of scorched bones and smoldering rags.

Twill strums a moment longer and lets the melody resolve. The flow of ghostly cats drops away like a receding wave from a tidepool. Some linger longer as the music fades away: a litter of kittens tumble across the top of a sarcophagus; a tressym shuffles its wings and licks its bristling shoulders; a scrawny tabby stretches and stalks back into the dark, kicking its hind feet as if to bury a shit. By the time the tomb is silent again, every one of the cats is gone.

Quick, say something irreverent to distract from your astonishment.

“You know, I quite like cats. It’s nice to see the sentiment returned for once.”

Twill is sitting on top of the sarcophagus, kicking his feet. “I consider myself a cat person, too.”

“After a display like that, I would be confused if you didn’t.” You retrieve your bow and your dagger, kicking old bones around nervously as you traverse the chamber. “Now, shall we go? I think we have well and truly exhausted this place and I’ll remind you that we still have found nothing whatsoever with which to pay a healer.”

Twill points across the tomb. “Secret door.”

You’d forgotten about the ill-fated button press that started this whole mess. You follow Twill’s gaze to see a new opening in the cracked wall. Secret rooms in ancient tombs are, of course, typically lousy with treasure. You feel a sudden twinge of fondness for the bard: perhaps he does have his priorities in order after all. And he’s more than proven himself useful in a pinch, even if his methods are frankly insane.

It seems that you are stuck with this unserious fool.

Well, you had better make the most of it. And ensure his loyalty as quickly as possible, before he inevitably discovers what you are. Already, your thirst is threatening to get the better of you. You’ll need to hunt tonight, even if it means sneaking away from your camp. You wonder: would Twill be receptive to your usual seductions? That’s the simplest way, in your experience, to set an arrangement in stone. He’s not entirely repulsive. You might even find it enjoyable.

With your next course of action decided, you draw your attention back to the matter at hand.

“Well now,” you say, rubbing your hands together, “let’s see what we’ve discovered, shall we?”

You have no way of knowing, at this moment, how much you are about to regret your discovery.

#read my drivel boy #baldur's gate 3 #my writing #bg3 fic #astarion tag #astarion #the dark urge #durge tag #twill cavander #withers is about to Happen To Them #twill casts TIDE OF CATS

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sandsoftide · 4 months

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A fairy weaves a peaceful haven in a world of danger. Leaves overlapping, hounds at the door, and a beautiful, floral landscape. It's home, as much as anywhere in this foreign, hostile land can be home.

She tries, really, to make it work. To grow a soft mossy floor, to weave bright lights through the branches, to have enough life to spare to give it away to all who wish to take refuge in her kingdom.

A lone wolf swears fealty to her, and from that moment on, they are inseparable. He guards her land in exchange for a cause to follow. The two trust each other fully.

The neighboring kingdom is everything the land of fairies is not. It's cold and frozen, while the forest is soft and teeming with life. It's rigid and steadfast, unlike the mysterious clearing and soft mossy floors that seem to mold around those who visit, welcoming them to stay forever. The bright light reflecting off of the castle's snow is harsh in contrast to the soft light of fireflies and glowberries.

They manage to come together, despite it all. Queen, Hound, Bard, and Knight. And it works, for a while. They're strong, they make up for each other's weaknesses, and with their resources pooled, could possibly be the most prepared alliance inside the border.

But then, a curse sweeps through the land. It fills their lungs with a sickly sweet sensation, choking them on the stench of lavender and death.

The knight feels nothing. Her resolution is steadfast. But eventually, a glimmer of doubt pierces through, a response to the whispered warnings of the wind in the leaves.

The Queen and the Hound, loyal as ever, hunt together. The forest itself is their weapon. It lures prey in with tender embrace and peaceful lighting, mossy floor so relaxing that they hardly notice the roots tripping them and curling around them and trapping them in place while sword and fangs pierce in fiendish delight.

The Bard is fearful, conflicted. He doesn't want to hurt anyone. He doesn't think he can. But as the hours pass, the hunger only grows stronger, and it's as though his untrained arm moves on its own.

The river runs red with the Knight's blood. It flows to land, sinking into the roots of the forest. The curse has passed, but at what cost? The Bard holds their body and weeps, with naught else to do.

They have no choice but to abandon the forest. It's hostile now, ablaze with the Knight's wrath. The Fairy Queen no longer has a cozy clearing to call her own. Instead, the three of them live in a tower-- closed off, stone, unyielding. The crimson water laps at the base of their fort.

A mysterious traveler brings their numbers back to four, but it isn't the same. Everything is different. Without the caring embrace of the branches, there's a lingering sense of dread and fear. There's no more soft sunlight flickering through the leaves, only the harsh glare of lanterns. She is surrounded on every side by the very thing that destroyed her home. The cold stone is nothing like the soft moss, and although the curse has passed, she still feels bitter, as though a part of her burned up, too.

The resentment and anger grow and grow until all she can see is red. This time, there is no curse, only the jagged broken will of someone who has lost everything, who has watched everything she ever held dear be ripped from her hands. She plans to kill everyone who has ever wronged her.

But she never gets the chance. She dies unremarkably, an easy target in the wrong place in the wrong time. No one gained anything from her death. No one even took the time to mourn her. Her grave was marked only by the rose used to kill her. She was just... alone.

...

And then she wakes up again. And everything feels wrong.

"Some people work better alone." That's where she went wrong last time, after all. So she relishes in the "secrets," and keeps everyone at an arm's length.

It's better this way, isn't it?

The Secretkeeper sends her towards other people. Build bridges, they say, but bridges don't need to be crossed. It's safer, she reasons.

But... It's just so lonely. So, against all reason, she starts to try.

And then no one comes to her party. And she's dead, killed out of a mere curiosity. And she's angry again, bitter and angry, and just as alone as she was last time, so what was the point?

There's nothing left for her. Having friends, loneliness, betrayal, none of it ever mattered, did it? The only thing that counts is survival. And she learned this long ago, but it still stings something fierce, made all the worse by the time she's wasted dancing around the point of everything.

She fulfills all her dreams of connection, only to stab her so-called "friends" in the back. And it feels great! Revenge has always suited her well, she thinks.

But then she attacks the only person who was ever nice to her, just because he was an easy target. And she made the decision, and she knows he doesn't matter, so why does she still feel guilty?!

Why does she listen to him, agree to help him, and fail and die miserably and alone for someone else's task?! Just a moment and everything she's ever worked for has slipped from her grasp, and no one will even notice she's gone again--

...

She's still falling. floating through the void. It was all so damn pointless. Fort to Tower to Cottage to The End. No matter what she tries, it never works. She'll connect, and it'll only ever lead to pain and a steep cliff.

But the cliff was there even before, wasn't it? The end was inevitable. Whether she has allies or not, she still ends up here, surrounded by nothingness. So for the short time she has, maybe she should try, again and again and again. It's better than sitting alone in an empty void forever, right?

Maybe in the next life.

#trafficlife #ldshadowlady #last life smp #secret life smp #trafficblr #tide writes

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itsmoonpeaches · 5 months

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Title: The Silent Prince

Chapter 3 of 3: Kingdom (COMPLETE) Chapter 2 Chapter 1

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses/The Legend of Zelda

A late entry for Dimileth Goggles on Twitter.

Rating: T

Word count: 6,738

Summary: Time is running out, and Dimitri and Byleth desperately try to work together to fulfill their destinies.

They were running out of time. Not only had the castle started rumbling, but the Yiga Clan was on the move. Their mission had changed at a rapid pace. It became two parts: train Byleth and call upon the Champions.

The king sent emissaries to both the Goron and Zora peoples as they were the most out of the way from Dimitri, Byleth, and their group.

Their trip north to the frigid region of Hebra was a quicker one than expected. The Rito, who were a bird-like people, were already aware of the incoming threat far quicker than the rest of them were because their scouts could see the castle tremble from high above while they flew. Their leader had expected them and accepted their plan almost as soon as Dimitri proposed it. The Rito Champion made his way to their Divine Beast.

From there, the best they could do was continue to train Byleth in the ways that they could, and Dimitri knew what needed to be done.

They cut across Hyrule in days, making their way to the Spring of Courage located in the rainy Faron region. The sound of water pelting against wide palm tree leaves echoed around them. Encased in ancient ruins and hidden from view by gigantic statues of dragon heads, Dimitri guided Byleth in praying to the goddess statue there while Felix and Dedue kept watch.

He sank into the spring beside her, the lukewarm water reaching his knees and sloshing against his breeches.

“Go,” he said. “Until you are submerged up to your waist.”

He watched as Byleth closed her eyes and clasped her hands together. He could feel the energy radiating off her when she mouthed the prayers.

The thunderstorm fell around them, and lightning rolled above the clouds. Their only shelter from the rain was the very ruin they stood under.

He watched as the droplets sluiced off mossy stones and how the water soaked into the fabric of her gown. Her hair cascaded along her back, and her shoulders turned inward as if she were trying to protect herself from something invisible. The leather belt that she normally wore around her middle was gone, tossed to the side as she tried to call upon powers she had once not known she had at will.

Dimitri thought she looked out of place without it.

He closed his eyes too and breathed as she breathed, a silent guide by her.

Continue reading on ao3.

#fe3h #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #botw #breath of the wild #loz #legend of zelda #dimileth #dimileth goggles #dimitri #byleth #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #byleth eisner #itsmoonpeaches fanfic

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tadpolesonalgae · 2 years

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Azriel x reader: Washing his Wings - part 2

Someone asked for a part two so I gave it a go, sorry if it’s different from part 1!

Synopsis: both of you are awkward after the ‘meeting’, staying far away from each other and trying to resist the curiosity that’s burning the two of you alive.

Warnings: more fluff, not proofread!

-Part 1- -Part 3-

******** - marks where dialogue begins

There was an uneasy tension between the two of you. Neither daring to address the ember that had finally caught, slowly simmering at the back of your minds. Each to their own as Azriel took on more missions, less and less time spend at the house, while you busied yourself with helping Elain around - any spare time spent trying to probe what had been gifted to you by the cauldron.

It was some kind of nightmare. Constantly on edge, would he be back tonight? Would be suddenly appear from the shadows? Your nails were worn thin from teeth nipping at them. The moment had been so raw, so pure, almost as is revisiting it would tear it’s undeveloped state apart; make it collapse in on itself.

He would be back later tonight, perhaps even early morning, the High Lord had casually mentioned as you left the kitchen, having finished breakfast. You’d frozen and turned, asking why he was mentioning it, you would have found out the morning he returned and were in no need of a precautionary warning. He’d simply raised a single brow, then shrugged, returning to his food until your youngest sister had walked in and tugged him out of the room. It appeared they’d both be preoccupied for a while.

Mor had dropped in around dinner time, joining your for a meal and bringing Nesta and Cassian along with her. The house had kindly handled the other threes meals, leaving you to handle yourself. Once the meal had come to a close, you requested Mor winnow you to the top of the cliff that contained the house. When she raised her brows, you explained there were some things you wished to test, and you’d stay at the hut up there for the night. One of the slightly poorer lies you’d told but she didn’t seem to mind, winnowing you up once you’d gathered sufficient clothing. “Scream if you need anything,” she smiled before dropping you off at the cabin. After all this time you still weren’t sure if that would work or not.

You tugged on some warmer clothes, making up the bed properly and folded your night things. Originally, you were going to put them in the bedside draws, but those had webs in that hadn’t been disturbed in a while, thick stripes of soft, sticky web lining the insides. Instead you hid them beneath the pillow, where the spiders hadn’t sought. Then you left, walking out into the cool night, locking the door behind you.

The cabin was a way from the top of the cliff, thank the cauldron as heights weren’t your specialty, so you trekked upwards for a while, thankful that Mor had insisted on making you bring an extra layer for the cold since there was no fireplace in the hut.

By the time you reached the peek of the cliff, the sun was long gone thanks to the numerous breaks you’d taken. It had been too long since you’d been outside, the fresh air clearing out your mind, whisping your thoughts away. You shuffled to the cliff edge, kneeling down and crawling until the red stone fell away, leading to the steep drop down to the sea.

You swung your legs over the edge, keeping a firm grip on ground to steady yourself should you fall. The stars were glinting in the night sky, Velaris glowing beneath. The soothing sight made your eyelids grow heavier by the second and soon you had leant back, lying on the mossy earth, staring up at the sky as the winds tangled with your legs. Sooner or later, your eyes slipped shut, deep, easy breaths flowing steadily in and out of you, arms spread wide.

A cold wind swept across your torso, gliding down your chest and wrapping around your neck, snapping your eyes awake. You pulled your arms close, rolling over only feel the weightlessness of your feet and start upwards. Remembering where you were, exhaustion lay heavily on your bones as you realised how far away from the cabin you were. From the looks of the dark greys and pale blues merging across the sky, you guessed it was early morning. Azriel would most likely be back at the house of wind by now, the only thing stopping you from even trying to scream for Mor.

Heaving your aching body upwards, you began the long and tedious March back to the hut which was thankfully made easier by the gentle decline of the hill. Your eyes were just about managing to stay open against the lulling but fading darkness of the night, allowing you to spot the cabin not too far off.

The iron of the handle was freezing against your warmer palm, that was stiff with cold. You opened the door, shuffling inside and falling back against it once shut, cupping your hands in front of your mouth to heat them up. It wasn’t much warmer inside than it was out, but at least you had the bed.

You exited the narrow hallway, the one that led straight to the bedroom - honestly it was more of a glorified bedroom than a hut, there was the hallway, then the bedroom, a small washroom connecting to it and that was it - brushing past a curtain on your way. You turned, there weren’t any windows in the hallway, just a rack for cloaks. And low and behold, on the rack was a thick, black, fleecy cloak. A smile tipped your lips as you realised Mor must’ve winnowed it up to you, knowing how cold the room could get.

The smile was smacked off your lips when you looked to the bed, nearly passing out from the overwhelming waves of emotion and panic crashing over you as you recognised the shape of large wings lying beneath the thin duvet. He must’ve had the same idea. You released a quiet sigh as you sunk back against the wall, wondering what to do. If it were any warmer, you would head back outside and sleep there until Mor fetched you at dawn - it wasn’t too far off.

Your throat tightened as a shadow moved by his head, trailing around his hair and circling down to his ear. “Don’t wake him,” you whispered, breathing shallowly, “please.” To your confusion, the shadow stopped, curled back over itself and retreated back into the darkness of his wings. Huh.

There was enough light to see, so you peered around the room, breath clouding in front of you as you wondered what to do. Heat flushed your cheeks as you remembered his cloak in the hallway. Butterflies swirled in your stomach as you thought through your options. Sleep outside? Far too cold. Try to make your way down to Velaris? Death trap. Wake him u— mother no. You smacked the though away before it could fully develop. Guess it would be the cloak.

You peeled off your heavy jumper that was damp and cold from the mist and dew, then removing your thick trousers, leaving you in a shirt that covered your arms and shorts that reached to a big above your knees. Embarrassing, but at least you wouldn’t freeze overnight from the moisture.

Walking as silently as possible back to the hallway, you reached for Azriel’s cloak, the blackness of it making your eyes go funny, like it wasn’t really there. You hesitated, hand outstretched, pausing as doubts filled you. Was this okay? You shook your head, you’d freeze if you didn’t.

His scent hit you as your pulled the cloak tightly around you, sinking into the warm fleece that lined the inside.

Mother above.

You hadn’t accounted for this, for the tidal wave of panic and the tightness in your chest as the warmth enveloped you. The cloak reached past your ankles, pooling slightly on the floor. The slits in the back for his wings rested on your shoulders instead of staying at the back, where they would be on him. You hadn’t realised how much larger he was, the height of the cloak and width of the shoulders bringing a small wash of realisation coursing through you.

Balling your hands into fists around the material, you settled down in one corner of the bedroom, incidentally, the furthest from the bed, resting your head against the wall and leaning into the thick padding of the cloak. Your eyes slid shut once again, arms tucked tight around your knees.

********

Light seeped into your vision as your eyes cracked open, focusing in on a shape that moved without making sound, wreathed in shadow. “Azriel?” You murmured, mind still hazy from the rough night. The silhouette froze, then turned. You could make out two large wings shifting behind the figure.

“You’re awake.” His voice alone conveyed enough of the uneasy tension between the two of you. You rubbed your eyes, sitting upright and looking around the room. The bed was made up neatly and Azriel was standing a bit in front of you, making for the hallway.

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I didn’t want to wake you…”

You looked down in embarrassment. You could hear the sounds of his wings shifting behind him. “I came up here last night to try somethings…when I came back, you were…well…” You trailed off, looking from him to the bed, then back at him. He nodded, stiffly. An uncomfortable silence followed.

“Oh. You’ll want—” you muttered as you stood, moving to remove his cloak from yourself, the fabric nearly swallowing you alive. In a pleasant way. “It’s fine,” he spoke. You looked up at him, confusion furrowing your brows. “It’s still cold out,” he gestured to the door.

“I see.” You replied tightly, now having no idea what to do with yourself. Another, more uncomfortable silence followed.

“Are you staying here?” He finally broke the silence, a small breath leaving you in relief. “No, I think Mor will be popping in later,” you explained, “if she remembers,” you added. His lips moved almost imperceptibly upwards. “I could fly you back.” Your eyes snapped to his. “Save Mor the journey and you the wait,” he elaborated. You thought about it, then nodded, hesitantly, moving to fold and gather your clothes. Right. Your clothes. Flaming heat scorched your cheeks and you subconsciously tugged his cloak closer.

“Um, Azriel?” You managed, unable to help the small shift in your pitch. “I, uh—,” your heart was hammering, “I’m not, exactly— you know…?” You pulled the cloak around you further. He looked at you blankly until a shadow curled round his ear. A muscle feathered in his jaw as his eyes suddenly refused to leave yours, not daring to dip any lower.

“You can put your arms through the slits in the back,” he offered and you nodded, doing just that but making sure the movement didn’t cause the cloak to open. Once you’d neatly folded your jumper and heavy trouser and collected your night clothes, you followed Azriel out into the open morning air, making sure you locked the door - singlehandedly, you might add. Before you had even properly turned back around, his arms had swept under you, wings flaring wide and pushing you off the ground.

Your spare arm immediately circled his neck, clinging to him desperately as you other hand held your clothes tightly to you. You squeezed your eyes shut, head leaning into his shoulder as you took a few steadying, deep breaths. Azriel released a low chuckle, making you open your eyes long enough to glower at him, “I knew I should have waited for Mor,” you muttered, playfully, “winnowing beats flying any day.”

Azriel did not appreciate that. The giveaway was his grip tightening on your shoulder and thighs before diving downwards, no other warning given. You screamed as he didn’t level out, continuing the sheer drop toward Velaris. “Mother above! Azriel, pull up for Cauldron’s sake!” You screamed again as he began beating his wings, propelling you downwards. Your eye cracked open, then both snapped wide as you saw how close you were to the ground, “Azriel!” You buried your head in the crook of his shoulder, shutting your eyes tightly and gripping onto him.

His wings flared as they caught the wind and slowly smoothed out into a glide. You dared a peek below, watching the roofs pass below you, a flurry of ochre yellows and chalky reds colouring your sight. “Still think winnowing is better?” He asked, a grin tilting his mouth. You scowled, “you’ve just further convinced me of the fact, yes,” you snapped, though you couldn’t help the answering grin that tipped your lips. A playful glint appeared in his eyes, challenge lurking just beneath, making you swallow.

He flew higher, to where the sun was warming the air above, just rising over the horizon. The heat washed over you, bathing you in the orange glow. This time you allowed the smile to part your lips as the floaty feeling overtook your fear, allowing it to slip away as you shut your eyes.

The wind pushed your hair away from your face, fresh air pouring into your lungs, heart hammering from exhilaration as you dared a look down. The sun glimmering across the water, sending skittering sparks of colour dancing over the surface. The roofs with hot red tiles contrasting with the thatched ones that were glinting with gold under the bright rays.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed, grip loosening on his shoulders, managing to look around properly, taking in the expanse of the sky, the landscape surrounding Velaris. A knowing smile spread across his mouth, lighting up his face in what you could only describe as understanding joy. “I might have to strand myself on that hill more often,” you laughed quietly, actually enjoying being in the air. “I’m sure Mor would be willing to winnow you back, since that’s the better option,” he grinned, his humour finally rising to the surface.

“Fine, the view is a definite plus,” you conceded, “though I’m still not quite sure it outweighs those awful dives you do,” you muttered. A wicked grin split across his face. “No—,” your eyes went wide, Azriel barely giving you any sort of warning before he folded his wings in, tucking them firmly behind his back.

He didn’t let you fall nearly as far this time, just a small dive, levelling out then quickly inclining as he circled through the air back toward the House of Wind. He glided smoothly to the balcony, landing elegantly then setting you down on the ground. Your hair was an absolute mess, small whisks curling round your cheeks that you were certain were flushed from the wind. “I’m getting you back for that, one day,” you promised, glaring at him. “I don’t think it was that bad,” he laughed.

“I could have dropped my clothes!” You snapped, pulling them closer to your body. “What if I had dropped them,” you continued, a small smile breaking apart the glower you were trying to send him, “can you imagine? Just a regular person going about their day, then a female’s nightgown drops onto the pavement in front of them?” you laughed, “how would you even begin to explain that?” Azriel was laughing with you at this point. “Well?” You demanded, trying to stop the laughs that were tumbling freely from your mouth. “I don’t think I’d actually have an answer to that one,” he admitted, grin evident on his face.

You rolled your eyes, heading inside. You spotted Nesta at the breakfast table, meal in front of her and as you approached, you spotted Cassian across from her. “Morning,” you greeted, taming the smile on your face. “You look delighted,” Nesta observed. Azriel walked in behind you. “Ah,” she threw a knowing glance at Cassian who returned it.

Cassian then turned his attention on you and Azriel, “where were the two of you, by the way?” A mischievous smile has edged it’s way onto his mouth though his gaze was primarily on Azriel. “Fuck off, Cass,” Azriel muttered, moving to the hallway where his room was, you following after him, since yours was also that way. “Nice cloak by the way,” Cassian called after you. You span on your heal realising what it looked like. “It is so not what it looks like,” you muttered indignantly, further along the hall you heard a huff of laughter from Azriel.

“And what does it look like, hm?” Nesta replied, smirking over her cup of tea. You scowled and turned, refusing to fall into her trap, walking away toward your room. From behind you, you heard a muffled ‘they totally did,’ making you glare at the floor. You almost didn’t see Azriel in front of your door, holding it open for you.

“Thanks,” you offered him a grateful smile. Remembering the cloak, you set your pile of clothes down on the small table inside the door and removed it from your shoulders. “I thought you—,”

“Well, everyone seems to think we…” you trailed off, “so you know. Might as well.” You shrugged, handing his cloak back to him. His eyes snapped to yours, wings flaring slightly. You smacked your palm over your mouth in utter embarrassment. “I meant— you know— not like that. But— with the clothes! I-I don’t mind—”

He nodded quickly, sparing you from that horrible mistake. “Gods I’m sorry,” you hid your burning face in your hand. Upon hearing a chuckle from Azriel you looked up, smile blooming across his mouth. “You can keep it,” he grinned, “I have others.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to deprive you of such a wonderful luxury,” you managed a smile back, face cooling down enough that you could look him in the eyes. “I want you to keep it,” he rephrased, and when you quirked your eyebrows he simply spoke, “wouldn’t want you to forget today. Not any of it.” Your stomach flipped. “Then I accept,” you murmured, pulling the cloak back towards you, eyes still on his. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, staring at each other in slight curiosity. Both of you seemed to zone back in at the same time, reeling back from the pull. Azriel nodded to you before moving to leave down the hallway, along to his own room.

“Thanks for the ride,” you called after him.

You heard snickering from the other end of the corridor, making you groan and slam the door shut.

#Azriel #Azriel one shot #Azriel Acotar #Azriel x reader #Azriel fluff #Acotar #Azriel x reader fluff #one shot fluff #i hope this is okay!

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thenamesofthings · 6 months

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The main block of the house is a Restoration form, not Georgian. (George I was only born in 1660 and didn't come to the British throne until 1714.) The addition of the hyphens and pavilions, as well as the small porch attached to the main block, would have occurred later. The house is essentially a grouping of seventeenth-century forms shoehorned into a British NeoPalladian footprint. This mixing is typical of what has been called "James River Georgian."

Eltham

Eltham was situated in New Kent County, Virginia. The property was owned by the Bassett family. Captain William Bassett was reportedly the first of the family to come to Virginia. He died in 1672 and was succeeded by his son, William Bassett, who died in 1673. This second William Bassett was a member of the Virginia Council. There was a third William Bassett, who inherited the place and was a member of the House of Burgesses. The son of the third Bassett, William Burwell, became owner of Eltham and also a Burgess.

The mansion was said to have been built as early at the 1660's. It was constructed of brick. The house was considered by many architects to have been one of the finest examples of Georgian architecture in the South.

The illustration of Eltham above was made from a drawing done by a member of the Bassett family. One description of the house reads, "There was a central portion of the house two-and-one-half stories high with dormer windows in the well-designed roof. Through passages on each side one reached the low wings to the house." Another description says, "The house presented an imposing front, one hundred and fifty feet from wing to wing; the entire building, with peaked roof and gable front, rising above them like the keep of a castle. Over the red English bricks of its walls, time and clinging tribes of lichens had thrown a soft tinting of purple and gray, while a stately avenue of Lombardy poplars led away from the mossy stone steps of the entrance, adding grandeur to the picturesqueness of the place. Many times during the siege of York were the leading spirits of the Revolution gathered at Eltham (which was not far from Yorktown) as guests of Colonel Burwell Bassett, who was a brother-in-law of General Washington and of Governor Harrison, having married the sister of Mrs. Washington [Anna Maria Dandridge; they married on May 2, 1757]."

One reason that there is interest in Eltham is that General and Mrs. Washington often visited the Bassets at Eltham, and Burwell Basset was one of the agents who had charge of Washington's business affairs while he was in command of the army during the American Revolution. In one of his letters to Bassett, written from Cambridge, Massachusetts, in February 1776, he says: "I thank you heartily for the attention you have kindly paid to my landed affairs on the Ohio; my interest in which I shall be more than ever careful of, as in the worst event they may serve for an asylum." This letter was owned by Herbert A. Claiborne of Richmond.

Another visitor of note was Andrew Burnaby, who wrote, "May 26, 1760. Having procured three horses, for myself, servant, and baggage, I departed from Williamsburg, and travelled that night to Eltham; twenty-five miles. . . . May 27. I ferried over Pamunky river . . . . " Burnaby wrote Travels Through North America, a popular book which went through three editions in the 1700's.

The Bassetts intermarried with many prominent Virginia families, including the Dandridges, the Lewises, the Claibornes, the Burwells and others. John Parke Custis, son of Martha Washington (and stepson of George Washington), died at Eltham, the home of his uncle. Martha and George adopted his two children. According to George Washington Parke Custis (John Parke Custis' biological son and George and Martha's adopted son), John Parke Custis "sickened while on duty as extra aide to the commander-in-chief in the trenches before Yorktown. Aware that his disease (the camp-fever), would be mortal, the sufferer had yet one last lingering wish to be gratified, and he would die content. It was to behold the surrender of the sword of Cornwallis. He was supported to the ground, and witnessed the admired spectacle, and was then removed to Eltham, a distance of thirty miles from camp."

The house burned in the 1870's, but the massive foundations could still be seen in the early 1900's.

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