#sapphire and steel au
Text
All irregularities will be handled by the forces controlling each dimension.
Transuranic heavy elements may not be used where there is life.
Medium atomic weights are available: Gold, Lead, Copper, Jet, Diamond, Radium, Sapphire, Silver and Steel.
Sapphire and Steel have been assigned.
#starker#sapphire and steel au#sapphire!peter#steel!tony#moodboard#my moodboard#self indulgent#remake#i really recommend it#it's kinda creepy#but really good
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
Muddled Waters 2
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, blood, violence,, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: your boss has a dangerous secret.
Character: Nick Fowler (mob au)
Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.
Your shift goes as usual. You make drinks to order and bring them out to the tables, or to set in the windows set into the walls of the private rooms. Those are for the more exclusive patrons, the ones who remain mostly faceless. The Sapphire is as close to a speakasy as you’d find in this century.
As you bring out a single scotch and place it on the ledge of the order window, a voice intone from the other side.
“Pardon me,” the English lilt wafts through, “your boss wouldn’t happen to be in house?”
You pull back your hand and consider the question. The customers in the rooms never talk to you. No thank yous, no pleases, no special orders. Those all come through the screen in the back which lists their demands; no olives, extra salt, double vodka...
“No, sir, I’m sorry, he’s not in,” you reply.
“Pity,” he remarks and a hand reaches to take the glass. “You will let him know I was here. In Room Four.”
“I’ll mention it. Would there be a name I should give him?”
“He will know,” he returns and footsteps scuff away from the window. Right.
You’re somewhat used to the cryptic. As nice as Nick can be, he isn’t always straightforward. The establishment does give you reason to bat an eye but for the most part, your pay stubs keep your gaze in the other direction.
You return to the kitchen and work at cleaning the used glasses brought by the singular busboy. You don’t know his name and he doesn’t talk. He always has earbuds in and only puts bins of dishes in the wash tray.
To say the operation is minimal is an understatement. Yet there is never more demand than you can meet. It makes you wonder how Nick breaks even with such a limited audience. Especially with the grade of ingredients he gets in. You never worked at a bar that didn’t water down their liquor now and again.
The night comes to an end and the lights dim as the bar closes up. The busboy clears the rooms and locks the front door. You leave the glasses in sparkling rows on the shelves and a bin of dishcloths to have washed the next day. You place away a few stray bottles then wipe down the counters.
“You’re here late,” Nick’s voice startles you and you hiss, looking up at him from the edge of your vision.
“Cleaning up,” you say and toss the cloth with the rest. “Just finishing now.”
“Mm,” he nods and hooks his thumbs in his belt loops, “you wouldn’t happen to have time to make me something, would ya? I’ll keep it simple.”
You withhold a sigh. Or maybe a yawn. Your eyes tingle and you shrug, “sure, what do you want?”
“Rye and coke,” he answers as he approaches the island and crosses his arms over the top, leaning on the stainless steel.
You swiftly gather everything you need and put together the simple drink. You set it before him and return all you disturbed back to its rightful place. You face him as he raises the glass and considers the dark elixir.
“Oh, er, someone asked for you,” you untie your apron and fold it over the bin meant for tomorrow’s laundry.
“Someone did? Was she pretty?” He winks.
You shake your head, “no. It was a man. He was in Room Four. That’s what he told me to tell you.”
“Room Four,” he repeats and puts the brim to his lips, taking a slow draw. His cheeks dimple before he pulls it away. “Noted.”
You nod at his strange reaction. Almost none at all. You check the time and drag your hands over your head.
“Well, I’m going to head home,” you say, “if that’s okay?”
“Quitting time,” he says coolly, his eyes stuck on the cabinet, a squiggle in his forehead. “Go on, get some sleep, sweetheart.”
“You too,” you shoot back. “Look like you need it.”
You pass him and he stands, turning to watch you, “hey, what does that mean?”
“Nothing, just... look tired.”
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he scoffs.
You go through to the backroom and grab your jacket and purse. It’s not really a strange night. A few out-of-the-ordinary occurrences, but nothing worrying. The man in Room Four and Nick’s late-night appearance; it’s not really a pattern.
You glance back at the kitchen door before you leave. You head out the back and walk down the next street. You approach your car parked by the curb, the rush hour jam keeping you from finding a closer spot. You take out your keys and they jangle loudly as your footsteps echo.
As you shove your keys into the slot, you’re suddenly taken off your feet, a blunt force jarring your wrist as your fingers catch in the keyring. You hit the ground with wheeze and roll across the stray pebbles as you hug your chest. You can’t breathe.
“Look, honey,” the British voice hisses through the night, “I didn’t wanna bring you into this but I needa send a message.” A figure straddles you on their knees, holding you down by your neck. “Not much, you’ll live...” you hear a metallic shing, “bit of blood is all.”
You feel a piercing pain just below your neck, right at the small dip of your collar bone. You cry out as the metal slices down your chest and easily through your shirt. Your skin parts with the fabric as you vibrate in agony.
“Get... off,” you cough out as you regain your breath. “Please...”
“Shh, honey,” he takes the knife away and smears his hand over your chest, your warm blood spreading under his rough palm, “I just want him to see you painted up nice for him.” He drags his hand over your face, the metallic scent staining your nose and lips. “Mm, you are a pretty thing, too.”
The man wiggles his hips lasciviously before he pushes himself off of you. He stands and you cover your ragged skin with your hands and whine, sobs rising from the pain hewn into your flesh. There’s a noise, something distant, maybe a door, and the man’s silhouette strolls off, whistling into the night.
Another set of footfalls approach you as you writhe on the ground. You don’t understand what happened. Why did that man do this to you? You can’t move. You can’t think. You just can’t.
The street light flickers as someone steps around the front of your car.
“Shit,” Nick rushes over and falls to his knees beside you, “shit, sweetheart, I shouldn’t have let you come out here alone. I shoulda knew...”
“Why?” You babble as your blood seeps between your fingers, “why, Nick?”
You squeeze your eyes shut and bawl. He slides his arms under you and lifts you as you exclaim. He hushes you as he holds you against his chest.
“It hurts,” you whimper.
“I got you, sweetheart,” he rasps, “I got you.”
#nick fowler#dark nick fowler#dark!nick fowler#nick fowler x reader#the 355#muddled waters#drabble#au#sweet and spicy#series
89 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter One: A Flash of Steel and Silver {Series Masterlist | Series Playlist ♫}
Series Summary: You've been called the Jewel of the Bay, a lady born and bred in one of the Royal Navy's most profitable ports of call. On a fateful summer night, taken aboard the pirate ship Starcatcher, your world is turned upside down. To survive, you must put your faith in the honor among thieves and learn to trust the devotion of a pirate to his most precious treasure.
Pairings: Jake x Reader, Sam x Danny, Josh x Reader | Chapter Word Count: 4.7k | Warnings: AU-typical violence, harassment, historically accurate misogyny
A/N: My sweethearts! This is my very first time doing an au like this, and I'm very excited to share it with you. I have no concrete plans for this series, and no update schedule - I'm just seeing where the wind takes me on this one. I know it's different from my other fics, but I really hope you like it! ♡
Pirates.
The word alone struck fear into the hearts of the people of Sapphire Bay, sending them inside to lock their doors and close the window shutters with a firm crack. Those devils marked by the branding iron were hated and feared, considered with a mix of awe and horror and morbid curiosity. To meet one meant certain death; for the superstitious, even to speak of one meant the calling down of hell’s rapacious wrath upon the new world’s fragile kingdom of islands. Everywhere, in hushed voices and cautious glances at the western horizon, people dreaded the coming of those demons. Pirates.
You had learned to fear them just as much as anyone, the threat of them always lingering in the back of your mind, but there was an insatiable curiosity that held you captive any time you so much as heard them mentioned. Your late father, the former governor of Sapphire Bay, had spoken of them often; you’d grown up on snatches of conversations heard from the other side of his study door, tales of murder and thievery and drunken escapades, stories of freedom and bravery and adventure.
Those stories had continued to fascinate you even as you became a woman, and you were more interested in them now than you had been as a child. Lucky, then, that you’d been betrothed to Commander Kit Drake of the battleship Black Smoke; his own closed-door conferences about the pirates that roamed the seas provided an endless diversion to your hungry imagination.
Hearing those stories was perhaps the only lucky thing about your betrothal, and you reminded yourself to try and think of other silver linings as your lady’s maid dressed you for dinner at the Commodore’s estate.
“He’ll tell me how beautiful I look,” you said to yourself, touching light fingers to your lightly rouged lips. “Surely he will.”
“Indeed he will, miss,” your lady’s maid said as she styled your hair. “You’ll be the jewel of the bay this evening, all sparkling in the candlelight.”
You met her eyes in the mirror. “Thank you, Tabby. You’re very kind.”
She smiled. “Have you decided what necklace and earrings you’ll be wearing tonight, miss?”
You brushed a hand over your deep blue bodice. “I suppose the sapphires would be best, wouldn’t they?”
“As you say, miss. Commander Drake will surely be pleased to see you wearing his gift.”
Tabby finished your hair, a relatively understated crown of curls, and spangled you with trinkets from your jewelry box that could have fed and housed a family for several months. You touched a hand to the blue gem that rested in a swath of silver, the centerpiece of the heavy necklace that felt more like a collar for a dog than a gift of love from your fiancé.
“There you are, miss,” Tabby said when you were ready. “I’ll tell the footman to bring the carriage ‘round.”
The Commodore’s estate was right on the bay, a sprawling mansion that put even your father’s estate to shame in sheer grandiosity. Several carriages stopped outside the main doors, ladies in fine dresses and men in naval uniform stepping out to join the group that filed into the golden, candlelit hall inside. Your attention was drawn to the sea as you waited, watching the way the moonlight dashed itself to bits across the glittering surface of the water.
“My dear. You finally made it.”
You looked over from the bay to the door of your carriage. “Kit.”
A frown tugged at your fiancé’s expression. “You mustn’t call me that here, dearest, you know that. Commander Drake or ‘sir’ will suffice.”
You flushed, wishing you’d remembered that rule. “Of course, sir.”
You accepted his hand when he offered it to you, and you looked up at him with girlish eagerness to see if he’d comment on your appearance.
“I wore the jewels you gave me at our engagement,” you said quietly.
He gave you a distracted glance. “Oh. Yes, I suppose you did.”
“Do you... do you like them?” you asked, crestfallen.
He breathed a short sigh. “They’re lovely, my dear. Let’s not tarry, shall we? I’m afraid you’ve already made us late.”
He offered his arm, and you hung off of it as a good young lady should. Your head turned back to the sea, just for a moment, and you thought you caught a glimpse of a shooting star reflected on the waves.
“We’ve got to double our presence on the coasts of the southern isles. We’ll rout them simply by being there in force. They wouldn’t dare to try and attack any of the ports there if we made our presence more obvious.”
You took a sip of wine and tried to look bored, knowing that the quickest way to get navy men to stop talking of pirates was for a lady to show an interest in their conversation. If they didn’t consider you too delicate or stupid for that kind of talk, they’d fear for some kind of longing to spark within you, the same kind they allowed to rage unchecked as they sailed on their mighty seafaring vessels.
“No corsair in these waters is a match for any of our fleet,” Kit argued. He gesticulated and narrowly missed your wine glass as you set it down. “I say with conviction, gentlemen, that there is no need to add even a single ship to those we already have out of port.”
“Maybe they’re not a match for your ship, Commander,” said a lady on the opposite end of the table. You glanced over with mild panic, wishing you could tell her merely to listen, but the gentlemen she was interrupting didn’t seem to mind.
“I’ve heard you gentlemen say the Black Smoke is the fastest ship in the Royal Navy,” she said, and there was a flirtatious intonation to her voice that drew the men in like moths to the flame. “However, I’ve also heard it said that there is a pirate galleon in our waters that can match it for speed.”
“Name the ship,” a lieutenant challenged.
The lady smiled. “Starcatcher.”
The name caused a flutter of excitement to stir in your breast. Starcatcher. It certainly sounded like a fast ship, and no vessel in the Royal Navy had such a wonderful name.
“Nonsense,” Kit said, waving her remark aside even as he trained his attention on the coy curve of her mouth. “The Starcatcher is a myth told to frighten new deck hands. No such ship exists.”
“No?” the lady asked with an elegant lift of her brow. “And what of its sister ship, the Indigo Streak? Some men say it can disappear into thin air.”
“Some men are fools,” Kit said, and his smirk betrayed his arrogance. “No doubt you’ve heard these same men claim to have seen the witches that serve as the figureheads of each ship.”
“They’re not witches,” another man protested. “I’ve heard they’re meant to be Nike and Themis, goddesses of victory and justice.”
Kit scoffed. “Victory and justice, indeed. Even if these ships did exist, what victory and justice could be won outside the King’s authority?”
“Pirates don’t consider the King’s authority legitimate, though, do they?”
All gazes swung to you, and you felt a wash of embarrassment follow the heady flush of having impetuously offered your own opinion. Kit’s face went pink with anger.
“What a pirate thinks of the King’s authority means little,” he said sharply. He took your hand under the table and gave it an uncomfortable squeeze, leaning close. “And what a woman thinks of it means even less, my dear, so I suggest you keep such foolish thoughts to yourself.”
He released your hand with disdain, and you shied away from him as far as you could. You understood perfectly well why the lady with the deep red lips was allowed to speak and you were not; her comments were meant to incite men to braggadocio and pride, and yours only called into question their self-assurance. You would not speak merely to stroke a man’s ego, pirate or King’s man or anyone in between; most at the table considered it better, in that event, for you to keep your mouth shut entirely.
You took another long drink of wine and tried to keep your hands from shaking. Of a sudden, everything was overwhelming; the sound of tittering laughter and silver forks against china dishes, the smell of dozens of different perfumes, the heat of the candles that cast flickering beams onto jewels and gold buttons and silver sword handles. You felt pressed in on all sides with an extravagant meal you couldn’t hope to finish in front of you, men to the right and left of you, servants behind you to tend to your every need should you so much as wave an indolent hand.
You took a deep breath, as deep as you could with your stays laced as tightly as they were, and dug into the reserve of feminine gentility and self-control that had been trained into you since birth.
“Commander,” you said quietly, touching your hand to his sleeve. He ignored you, and desperation clawed at you.
“Sir,” you said in a pleading whisper.
With a frustrated huff, he turned away from his companions and met your eyes. “What is it?”
“I beg your pardon,” you said. “I — I suddenly feel quite ill. My head, it’s...”
He snapped his fingers, and a footman came to his side to await his instruction in perfect silence.
“Attend the lady,” he said, gesturing to you with impatience and contempt. “She’s taken ill, apparently.”
The footman bowed his head. “M’lord.” He pulled your chair out and gave you his hand; you took it, offering a feeble excuse to those few who noticed your departure and cared to comment.
“Shall I show you to one of the guest chambers, m’lady?” the footman asked when you were safely outside the dining hall.
You shook your head. “No, thank you. I wonder... could you help me find the gardens? I would be so grateful for a breath of fresh air.”
“Very good, m’lady,” was the man’s response. He escorted you to the gardens. “Shall I ring for a lady’s maid to accompany you?”
“That won’t be necessary,” you said. “Thank you for your help, sir.”
He bowed. “M’lady.”
A bit of the peace you so dearly needed was found out in the garden, and you wandered in the cool darkness of the shrubs and trees blossoming with flowers of every hue. You took a deep breath of the warm night air as you walked over the cobblestones, closing your eyes for a moment to drink in the quiet of birdsong and the ever-present hush of waves upon the shore. You longed to go down to the water, if only for a moment; what relief it would bring to feel the cool waves lapping at your ankles, to feel the salty breeze skim over your cheek with all the tenderness of a lover’s hand. You opened your eyes and felt its dark, silver-scaled presence call you like a mother to a child, begging you to leave the world you knew behind.
“Foolishness,” you whispered, pressing your hand against the merciless shackle of sapphire and silver that hung about your neck. You could never leave. You would be here, always, looking out upon the water, wearing its color on your breast, never quite close enough to touch.
You heard your name called from a direction opposite the ocean. Footsteps sounded behind you, and you did not allow yourself to breathe the sigh that waited ever-ready at your lips.
“I only needed some air, Commander,” you said without turning to him. “I’ll be well enough to join the ladies in the parlor after dinner.”
Without warning, Kit grabbed your wrist in a punishing grip and spun you towards him.
“Turn to me when I call you,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “Do not presume to speak to me with an air of indifference.”
Your blood ran cold at the anger in his face. “I didn’t — I wasn’t trying to — ”
“I knew you weren’t ill,” he said, squeezing your wrist tighter. “You left because you wanted to shame me, didn’t you? Or perhaps because you were petulant about my correction?”
“No,” you said weakly, trying to tug your hand from his grip. “Please, Kit, you’re hurting me.”
He took your jaw in his other hand and squeezed it. “I told you not to call me that. Do you mean to respect me at all tonight? Or shall I have to teach you a lesson in obedience?”
You paled. You tried to find your voice to try and calm him, to apologize, but another man’s voice broke in before you could.
“Take your hands off the lady.”
Kit released your jaw, more out of surprise than any desire to obey. You tried to pull out of his grip, but he held fast to your wrist.
“Who spoke?” Kit asked into the darkness of the garden. “Show your face.”
“Take your hands off the lady, as I said,” the man repeated. “I’ve got a pistol aimed straight for your heart, Commander, and I assure I won’t miss.”
Kit’s face flushed an angry red. To your surprise and relief, he let you go, and you put a few steps of distance between you.
“How dare you speak to me in such a way?” Kit thundered. “I demand that you to come into the light and show yourself.”
No sooner had he spoken than a man sauntered out of the shadows of a copse of palm trees, a flintlock pistol held in an almost lazy manner in Kit’s direction. The hilt of a cutlass on his hip caught the light of the moon.
“You demand it, aye?” the man asked. His long hair was dark, his frame lean and hard-muscled; he was practically indecent, his cotton shirt unbuttoned to reveal a collection of necklaces that rested against his tanned chest. You blushed and averted your eyes when he looked at you.
“Makes you wonder,” he continued conversationally, turning his attention back to your fiancé. “Perhaps your King ought to call you Demander rather than Commander.”
Kit put his hand to the hilt of his saber. “What are you, boy?” he said derisively. “Beggar? Thief? Be on your way before I arrest you for harassing an officer.”
The man’s mouth turned up in a crooked smile as he returned his pistol to its holster at his waist.
“Go ahead, Commander. Though I doubt if you’ll find there’s any jailhouse to throw me in by the time you do.”
Kit looked the man over in confusion and absolute fury. He opened his mouth to speak, but an explosion from the outskirts of town effectively cut across him.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Kit raged. He looked to see the billow of smoke from the direction of the jailhouse, then whipped his head back to look at the man.
“You’re a fool to attempt a prison break,” he said. “There’s plenty of brigs in the fleet to throw you and your worthless comrades in once we collect all of you.”
Kit drew his sword, and the man had drawn his and disarmed Kit in a flash of steel and silver quicker than you could see it. Kit’s sword clattered across the cobblestones and skidded to a halt at the man’s feet.
“I’d be careful who you draw your sword against tonight, Commander,” the man said. He kicked the saber back towards Kit. “You won’t find my men as forgiving as I am.”
“Your men?” Kit blustered, shame and fury mottling his face. “Who the devil do you think you are?”
A cocky smile lit the man’s face, and you found it somewhat maddening and almost alluring. Confidence radiated from him like warmth from the sun, and you watched in fascination as he took a step closer to Kit.
“You don’t know me?” he asked. He lifted his sleeve; just above the white bracelet he wore was the scarred mark of a pirate.
“You gave me this, Commander Drake,” the man said. “Though I suppose you were only a lieutenant back then, weren’t you?”
“Scum,” Kit spat. “I should have known. I’ve branded enough of your kind that you all run together into one wretched mass.”
“I see,” the man said. He sheathed his cutlass again even as Kit bent to retrieve his, seemingly unconcerned with the possibility of a duel. He tilted his head towards the Commodore’s house.
“In that case,” he said airily, “I’d love to be the one to tell you that the wretched mass is running together in your Commodore’s estate as we speak. Taking your jewels, your gold, your spit-polished swords that have yet to taste blood. It’s only a matter of time before they interrupt your little dinner party, I fear.”
As if on cue, pandemonium erupted from inside the house. Doors burst open, sending a flood of screaming party guests outside with pirates right on their heels, each of them armed to the teeth and crowing with delight.
“Filthy pirate!” Kit howled. “I’ll have you and every one of your men hanged for this!”
“Oh, Commander,” the man said with a winning smile. “You’ll make me blush with that kind of talk.”
Bang. A bullet whipped past the three of you, slamming into the trunk of a palm tree and sending out a shower of splintered wood. You flinched and raised your arms to shield yourself.
“Aye, watch yourself,” the pirate called to whoever had fired. He sounded only mildly annoyed rather than fearful for his life, and you wondered if it was bravery or stupidity that made him so calm.
Suddenly, Kit grabbed your arm and snatched you close to him. For the second time that night, he held you in an iron grip, and there was little you could do to fight him off.
“You’ll tell your men to let me go,” Kit said, panic crawling into his voice. “You’ll order them not to shoot me, because if they do, they’ll hurt the lady.”
You startled at the knowledge that your fiancé was using you as a human shield, offering you as a bargaining chip to a pirate. You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he held you fast.
The pirate scowled. “Coward,” he spat. “What sort of man are you, Commander?”
“One not condemned to death,” Kit said, a maniacal glee in his voice. “Not tonight.”
He started to drag you with him as he made his way out of the garden, heading with slow steps towards the docks rather than the house where screams and gunfire still rang through the air. You kicked and clawed, begging him to let you go, terrified that a bullet meant for him would kill you too.
“Let me go, Kit!” you pleaded, tears streaming down your cheeks. “You worthless coward, let me go!”
“Silence yourself!” he hissed in your ear. “Once we’re well away from this, we’ll both be safe.”
He clapped a hand over your mouth, and it only made your panic and anger worse. You had to get free of him — he was squeezing you so tightly, you couldn’t breathe —
In a last, desperate attempt at freedom, you bit down, hard, on the soft junction between his thumb and first finger. He bellowed in pain and released you.
“Bitch!” he howled, backhanding you across the face. The force of it made you dizzy, and his signet ring cut your cheek; you stumbled backwards, falling in a tangle of blue skirts to the unforgiving stone walkway.
“Right, that’s it.”
You heard the pirate’s voice as if from somewhere far away. You looked up with a bleary gaze; he stood next to you, his pistol held aloft and pointed right at Kit.
“No!” you shrieked.
You grabbed at his leg to try and stop him, somehow, blind devotion for Kit urging your forward. The pirate didn’t even seem to notice you, and your whole body flinched at the sound of gunfire. You squeezed your eyes shut even as sobs wracked your body.
“Come on, lass.”
You felt the pirate's callused hands reach to help you up, and you reacted in terror-stricken instinct.
“Don’t hurt me!” you begged, trying to get out of his reach, woozy with fear and pain. “Please, don’t hurt me. Let me go. I won’t tell anyone you killed him, I promise.”
“I didn’t kill him,” he said harshly. “Quit fighting, lass. I won’t hurt you, but you have to come with me.”
You looked up at him, and his face was blurry through your tears. “But you’re a pirate.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “And your only chance of making it out of here alive.”
He offered you his hand, and you didn’t see any other choice but to take it. His grip was strong and steady, firm enough to help you but gentle enough to keep from hurting.
“Attagirl,” he said when you were standing. “Steady, now. Can you walk?”
“Yes,” you breathed. For some reason, you didn’t let go of his hand. “Where are we going?”
He nodded towards the bay. “My ship. You’ll stay there until all this settles down, and then I’ll take you back home.”
Shattering glass brought your attention to the house momentarily; a raging fire billowed out of the broken window, sending great clouds of smoke up towards the sky.
“Unless you live here,” the pirate said. “In which case, you’ll have to find other arrangements.”
You could do nothing but stare at him for a moment, bewildered and dazed. “But... why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you helping me?”
He looked over your shoulder towards Kit, who lay groaning and weak in the grass with a bullet wound to the shoulder. His expression held nothing but disgust and contempt for your fiancé.
“I don’t like to see a lady mistreated,” he said. He gave your hand a gentle tug. “Come on. This way.”
You followed after him, helpless not to, feeling outside of yourself as you tried to think past the pain in your jaw and the overwhelming fear that still held you captive. He led you through the garden and down to the Commodore’s private docks where a skiff was waiting.
“Wait.” You stopped and tugged on his hand, and he turned to face you.
“What is it?” he asked, a touch of urgency to his voice.
You looked to the skiff and then back to him. “How — ” You swallowed nervously. “How do I know you won’t hurt me?”
He looked a little lost for a response. “I don’t know, lass. I believe you’ll just have to trust me.”
“Trust a pirate?” you asked, choking a little on the words.
He gave you a grim half-smile. “Could be worse.”
“How on earth could it be worse?”
He didn’t answer you, distracted by the sight of several more skiffs approaching the docks. You followed his gaze and saw they were coming from two huge galleons further out in the bay.
“Heavens,” you breathed. You didn’t know how you could have missed them, but they suddenly loomed like two great monsters on the surface of the water.
He pulled you towards the boat. “Come on, lass,” he urged. “The second wave’s coming in soon, and they don’t mind me as well as I’d wish them to. I’d rather you not be out here when they come.”
You met his gaze. “Second wave? There’s more of you?”
He huffed a short, mirthless laugh and ushered you into the skiff with little grace. Your became hopelessly tangled in your skirts and sat uncomfortably on the opposite side from him.
“You may wish to take off some of those cumbersome overskirts, lassie,” he said, taking the oars and rowing you out to the giant ships. “You’ll get them caught in something and get hurt.”
You blushed vividly. “Take off my skirts?” you repeated, incredulous and mortified at the idea, though you noticed you didn’t sense any salacious undercurrent to his suggestion. “I certainly will not. Just because you run around in a state of undress does not mean I will.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
You sat in silence as you came ever nearer to the twin galleons, feeling a caving pressure in your chest as they loomed closer. You looked around for something, anything, to distract you; against your better judgment, your gaze landed on the movement of your pirate rescuer’s strong arms with each pull of the oars.
You looked away, chastising yourself for such foolishness in the face of everything else that had happened.
When you reached the closer ship, you looked up at the cargo net that hung over the side with more than a little trepidation. How were you ever going to climb it in your dress?
Your pirate — when had you started to think of him as your pirate? — gave a theatrical gesture to the net. “Ladies first.”
You huffed, feeling anger at your situation start to override any other emotion. All you’d wanted tonight was to have a nice, unexciting dinner, and yet here you were, standing before a pirate and about to board his ship in the middle of the night.
“Very well,” you said tartly, dredging up some reserve of courage and feistiness from whatever was left in the hollow of your chest. With some difficulty, you reached under the waist of your blue overskirt and untied the two underskirts and hoop skirt underneath. He had the decency to avert his gaze, at least, but your face was still hot with embarrassment as you shimmied out of them and slipped off your uncomfortable shoes.
When all that was left to cover your undergarments was your overskirt and bodice, you stepped in your stocking-feet onto the first loop of rope on the cargo net.
“Mind your gaze, pirate,” you said, managing with a fair bit of exertion to climb the net. He scaled it with you, quick and nimble, and gave you a grin when he reached your perch.
“Pirate sounds such a dirty word when you say it,” he said, and there was a teasing lilt to his voice that gave you the strangest fluttering sensation in your chest. “You’d better just call me Jake.”
Oh, but you didn’t like knowing his name. Not one bit.
“Fine,” you said, tearing your gaze from his. “Mind your gaze, Jake.”
He grinned. “Only if you mind yours, lass.” He stepped up another rung and climbed the rest of the way with ease. You gave a dejected sigh and continued your laborious ascent to the railing of the ship.
When you reached the top of the net, Jake was waiting for you. He offered you a hand up, and it was only with his help that you managed to get aboard without falling on your face.
You looked up when you were steady. “Oh, dear.”
Several pirates stood frozen along the deck, watching you with a mix of shock, hostility, and undeniable interest. Each one of them was armed, sword hilts glinting at their hips and pistols tucked into belts that looped over their barrel-sized chests.
“Easy, lass,” Jake said, taking hold of your arm again. You barely registered that you’d made a sudden, jerky movement to flee the ship and go back down the net, but he’d stopped you before you could go anywhere.
“None of my men will hurt you,” he promised, and when you met his eyes with a terrified glance, you saw that he meant it.
“I have to trust you on this, too?” you asked feebly.
His mouth curved in a smile. “Aye. You’re getting the idea, lass.”
He let you go, a testament to his trust in you not to try and run, and nodded to the stairs before you.
“Allow me to escort you to my quarters,” he said.
You flushed. “Y-your quarters?”
“Indeed. Where I shall leave you to your own devices and come back out to be with my men.”
You gave a shaky sigh of relief. “Oh. Very well.”
You’d taken no more than two steps towards the stairs when another man appeared at the top of them, his features strikingly similar to Jake’s but done up in dark makeup that matched the black clothes he wore.
“Why, my dear Jakey,” he said with a glittering smile. “What have we here?”
Let me know if you'd like to be added to a taglist for this series!
gvf taglist: @malany-gvf @spark-my-nature @eearevee @madneedshelp @demonrat444 @josh-iamyour-mama @honeyandsweettae @mydarlingdanny
@gvfrry @ohhey1293 @the-chaotic-cow @mountain-in-springtime @xserenax-13 @stardustjtk @brooke-gvf @weightofdreams-gvf @jakeydoesit @gretasmokerising @hayley1623 @doodle417 @finestoflines @brokenbellz @bowievanfleet @s0livagant @strugglingtodoshit @s-u-t @kay-jordan @gretavanfleas @jakeyboiiiiiii @gretavansteph @gretavanbitches @myownparadise96 @luverleaver @weightofdreamz @greatervanfleet @maedesculpaeusoubi @jakekiszkasbestie @pineapple-photographer @baguettejuliette @alexxavicry @levi-wants-ur-bones @carlybubs @cowboysamkiszka @dannyandthekiszkas @jordierama @slutforsteve @starshine-wagner
sorry if tumblr didn’t tag you — it’s stupid sometimes. but i’m real thankful for you, sweet peaches! and if you’re a new bestie and would like to be added to my taglist, check out the form right here!
#ooooHHH i can't wait to hear what y'all think of this one <3#jake kiszka x reader#pirate!jake#jake kiszka fanfiction#pirate jake kiszka#greta van fleet au#greta van fleet fanfiction#gvf pirate au#sam kiszka x danny wagner#josh kiszka x reader#maddie writes stuff!#fate of the faithful fic
219 notes
·
View notes
Text
Heaven (Modern!AU) (Constance/Orin) (Constance/Ebenezer)
Trigger warning for graphic depictions of self-harm and attempted su*c*de.
Connie experiences darkness before the dawn.
Something about the entire evening felt just a tad … off.
Orin Spiegler couldn’t exactly pinpoint what exactly was amiss in the couple’s stately 5th Avenue townhouse, but a sense of dread was tugging at him. He felt … anxious, which was not an emotion he felt often. Stock trading on Wall Street and rubbing elbows with some of the richest financial syndicates in the country and world took someone with steel-will and gumption. By self- admission, he had both in spades.
Orin knew there were many select adjectives one might use to describe him, but ‘uncertain’ was not one of them. When he felt or knew something, he believed it with his whole chest and soul.
Something in the air on that very evening was making his uneasy.
Orin sat in an expansive, high ceiling sitting room in the townhouse, the windows showing the top of Central Park’s green canopy. The clouds churned dark gray outside, pregnant with a chilling winter downpour that threatened to turn to snow if the temperature dwindled much more.
It wasn’t the cold or impending weather making him nervous, nor was it the distance scratching of the delicate sapphire needle on the phonograph nearby, playing a crackling blend of Chopin’s most well-known pieces. No. He was used to all that. He was used to the dry newspaper in his hands, ink smearing on his fingertips even if he’d given the damn thing the whole day to dry. He was used to the expensive firewood filling the parlor with the scent of aftershave, and just a little bit of nauseous smoke.
He was a man of routine, and nothing this evening stood out compared to anything else that would have also been commonplace any other night.
Yet, his fingers felt compelled to tap the wooden flourish of his armchair. An itch manifested on his freshly shaven cheek. The silk of his dressing gown suddenly felt as stifling as wool.
A persistent, nagging notion scratched at the base of his skull: Get up, get up, get up.
Something was wrong. But what?
Fuck, he needed a drink.
“Con!” he yelled, voice reverberating through the cavernous room, “Grab me a drink, will you?”
Silence.
A groan of irritation left him as he threw the paper aside and rose to his feet. “Con! Hey!”
He peered down the hall that housed a few of the townhome’s bedrooms. It was dark and still as nighttime pond. Uneasiness returned as he noted a persistent haze filling the hall. Steam from the bathroom, he realized.
Ah, of course, she was in the bath.
Well, she could fetch his drink nude, he thought. That could be fun.
Marching to the bathroom, his fingers curled around the knob like the legs of a dying spider. He gave the door a rattle. As expected, it was locked, the knob frozen in place. “Con. I know you’re in there.”
There was no noise from the other side. Not a sound of exasperation or fear, not the sound of sloshing water, not the sound of a squeaky tap or a groaning pipe. It was as if the room was empty on the other side of the locked door, but that wasn’t possible.
That persistent feeling of dread grew in tandem with the stretch of silence he experienced on the other side of the door. While one hand kept trying the knob, the hardware rattling like tumbling bones with furious flick of the wrist. While his right hand attacked the knob, his left hand rose seemingly of its own accord to tap his fingers against the lacquered wood. One finger to another, back and forth, three or four times.
The entire time, crickets. By now, she would have stirred. She should have stirred.
“Con?” he asked again, his voice growing with the same trepidation that had lured him up from the chair.
Silence.
Had she fallen asleep in the bath and slipped into the water?
“Constance. Constance!”
Panic rose in his throat and he continued to twist the knob over and over, attempting to move the lock’s tumblers by threat and force. The fingers that had previously siphoned out his anxiety through fleeting taps now curled into a fist and banged on the wood.
“I’m going to break down the door if you don’t answer me.”
Less than ten seconds passed before he acted upon the promise. Squaring his shoulders and bracing himself, he reared back against the hall wall before charging forward. The door jostled in place, and after a few strikes, began to buckle around the metal hardware. While the new lock remained in place, the historic door (a heavily restored original from the townhome’s initial construction around two hundred years ago) caved with relative ease.
Adrenaline numbed the pain long enough for him to force the wood forward past the screws and hinges.
On the next ram, it buckled. With the lock still clicked into place, the rest of the door flew back and smacked the bathroom wall.
Orin stumbled inside, and before he saw anything else, he saw red. A pool of blood, thick and black as oil, dripped from the edge of the otherwise pristine, white clawfoot tub. Perched atop the rim was a slit wrist, a jagged flap of skin hanging free from the cut veins.
One of his facial razors was limply cradled between the unresponsive manicured nails.
“Fuck!”
He pushed himself back from the doorway, stumbling away from the stained floor, as if he could push himself out of the dream before him.
“Fuck, fuck, no!” he screamed, voice shattering with each syllable. The world seemed to still in that moment, where each breath felt like an eternity to complete. “H-holy shit…C-Constance….”
Remembering himself, he peeled himself up from the floor and stepped through the metallic-smelling liquid to read the room.
As he looked inside, he saw his fear realized. While one slit wrist was perched atop the edge of the tub, her other slit wrist and head were submerged in the pink-tinted water, only a few bubbles leaving her nostrils and mouth. Her coppery hair wreathed her lifeless face like a halo, eyes already fluttered shut.
Acting instinct, he lunged to her side. Orin reached in and hauled Constance from the tub, all but throwing her onto the floor. She wasn’t nude, but rather dressed in a thin slip dress that reached her mid-thighs, likely to preserve some dignity for whoever found her.
She was already cold and limp in his arms from also slipping unconscious, therefore powerless to stop him bundling her wrists in towels and wrapping her in a robe. He worked in silence, waiting until all her wounds were covered before he began to apply beats of heavy pressure to her chest.
He thumped his hands against her sternum, then frantically tipped her head back and breathed into her mouth.
“Come on, come on…” he muttered, mindless of the blood and bath water drenching him. “No. Fuck. No, we’re not doing this.”
He commanded her to wake up over and over again, both shouting the order and muttering it against her blueish lips between breaths. Some of those whispers were prayers, not to Constance, but to any higher power or ghosts that could hear him.
When she finally did sputter up some water, she didn’t even take a moment to breathe. All Constance did was gasp and let out a choppy groan. Her agony was personified in a cry for death rather than a frantic gasp for life.
Ignoring her pleas to let her die, he scooped her up in his arms and rushed to his phone in the sitting room.
While waiting for an ambulance to arrive, he held her like a child cradling their favorite stuffed toy, rocking her softly all the while.
While he murmured sweet nothing, she let out creaking, suffocated groans for physical and mental release.
Release from life. Release from him.
The clawfoot tub in Ebenezer Scrooge’s London flat was large enough for her to practically lay flat in.
Slipping out of her robe (which was actually his robs - she needed to buy one to keep at his place), she tentatively stepped into the steaming tub of water one leg at a time.
Baths always worked wonders for her aches and pains, especially residual injuries from her broken legs.
This one was no exception.
Even when she went to sit down, the size of the bath continued to surprise her. Sitting fully on her bum, the water almost reached her chin. Almost slipping into the deepness, she caught herself with a giggle. She rolled her shoulder back and reclined against the back of the tub with a sigh.
Oh, it was heaven. She felt almost weightless in the tub, since it was large enough for her to move her arms and even wiggle her legs back and forth.
She could even dunk her head under the water (which she did, in fact!) and surfaced with another puff of laughter as she smoothed her curled bangs from her face.
The bath was a place of private solace; a haven to be truly defenseless and vulnerable. It was always one of the most reliable places she could retreat to and never be bothered. Whether it was after a chilly day of childhood snowball fights, a hard day at the office, or a harrowing modelling photoshoot that left her feet sore and ego bruised, she would go to the bath and feel peace.
Everything about this bathroom relaxed her. From the buttery paint color on the walls to the fluffy, freshly washed towels, and even down to the rainy London skyline outside the window, it felt perfect.
Slowly, she risked a glance down and at her wrist.
She turned her wrist over and glimpsed the deep, jagged scar adorning her right hand. While scars lingered on both hands, her wrist list had been badly marred thanks to the added clumsiness of her trying to use her non-dominant hand. It almost made her chuckle, the black comedy of it all.
Inhaling the steam off the bath, she took a deep breath to reground herself.
“You’re okay,” she reminded herself with a nod. “You’re okay.”
Her boyfriend was right outside.
This time, she had nothing, and nobody, to be scared of.
Ebenezer reclined in bed, dressing properly for a quiet evening in with pajamas and slippers. His torso sat propped against two layers of pillows, his legs crossed casually at the ankles. Across his lap was a thick book; an enjoyable endeavors compared to the massive manuscripts he often read daily as part of his job. A set of tortoiseshell reading glasses were perched atop his owlish nose. The frames were a set that Constance had helped him picked out at an optometrist appointment mere weeks prior. It had been a surprisingly domestic experience, he'd found. She'd been so serious about helping him choose the perfect set and offering her opinions. At the time, he'd wanted to pull her into a thankful kiss.
Now, he was eagerly awaiting for her to join him in bed.
Every once in a while, he glanced at the door to the ensuite bathroom. Whenever he heard a splash or giggle from inside, he almost smiled before returning to his book.
Gods, what had he done to wind up so lucky?
When the door finally opened and Constance emerged, her cheeks red and hair damp, his grin turned to a smirk. Wearing one of his robes with the hem of a sapphire-blue night slip peeking from underneath, she looked like a goddess emerging from her private springs.
“Hello,” she said with a shy smile.
“Hello, indeed,” he crooned, putting his book aside instantly. He opened an arm to her, and she crawled into his embrace. She sidled up to him, fitting perfectly in the nook between his chest and arm. “Enjoy the bath?”
She nodded and hummed. “Very much. It was so relaxing.”
He dropped a kiss upon her copper head. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“What are you reading?”
“Crime and Punishment,” he said. “I wanted to read it as a boy, but never got to it. I’ve been wanting to get back into reading more, my dear. I used to do it so often as a child when I could. Even when money was tight, libraries were always free.”
She hummed.
“Have you read it?”
“I’ve read Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace and Anna Karenina, but never Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment,” she said. “That’s the novel about the student, right? Raskolnikov. The one who kills his elderly neighbor with an axe?”
“…Yes,” he said, then laughed nervously. “I suppose it is a bit of a morbid choice.”
“Well, most literature is morbid in some way,” Constance giggled, readjusting herself so she laid alongside him. “Are you far along?”
“Not terribly – 10 pages or so. Barely a dent of a dent for a book of this size, I’d dare say.”
“…Can we both read it?”
“What?” he asked, glancing down at her. “Like, read it together? In turns?”
She smiled and nodded. “Yes. Is…that okay? Just a chapter or so a night before bed every night. Maybe … I could read a few times, and you could read other times?”
Touched by her sincere interest, he would have agreed even if he hadn’t liked the idea. Oh, he was overjoyed by the thought. Any opportunity to bond with her filled his proverbial cup, so to speak.
“Well, then,” he started, holding the book open with one hand while his other hugged her close. “Let’s start over, shall we?”
She reached out to grab the other side of the novel, helping to hold it upright for them.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
Inhaling again, she nodded and let her eyes flutter shut.
“It feels like heaven.”
@quill-pen I was inspired by our convo the other day. Just a bit.
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
long time no see! we've got more pokemon au, this time with the johto dex!
i really didn't mean to take so long with this one. i wasn't really vibing with this pokedex at all and i was getting frustrated. so i took a break from it and now i'm back! some character's types have changed in this one and some have stayed the same.
to reiterate from last time:
we're going off vibes, not stats. this may change in later posts.
fist set is battle teams, second set is rotation teams
if yall any any suggestions per gen, please feel free to list them in the replies or tags!
tagging: @nburkhardt @hitlikehammers @doomcheese @spectrum-spectre @sentient-trash
@worstsequence @matchingbatbites @tangerinesteve @bramble-berries
Eddie - Dark/Psychic
Rotation:
gengar • gligar • golbat • haunter • jigglypuff • noctowl
Steve - Water/Ice
Rotation:
lantern • mantine • polytoed • qwilfish • shuckle • wartortle
note: he and robin have shared custody of shuckle
Robin - Grass/Electric
Rotation:
apom • bellossom • dunsparce • oddish • parasect • wobbuffet
note: oddish is her little buddy and she would kill for him
Nancy - Unspecified
Rotation:
arcanine • clefable • gengar • houndoom • murkrow • stantler
Jonathan - Bug/Ground/Normal
Rotation:
doduo • girafarig • houndour • mr. mime • porygon2 • remoraid
Argyle - Grass/Rock
Rotation:
jynx • oddish • persian • quagsire • sunflora • wobbuffet
Chrissy - Water/Ice
Rotation:
goldeen • kingdra • snubbull • tododile • vaporeon • wigglytuff
Dustin - Grass/Bug
Rotation:
aipom • clefable • phanpy • tangrowth • typhlosion • zubat
Lucas - Rock/Steel
Rotation:
dragonair • dragonite • eevee • feraligatr • marill • vulpix
Max - Fighting/Psychic
Rotation:
ambipom • krabby • ninetails • raticate • tauros • hoothoot
El - Psychic/Normal
Rotation:
—
Will - Unspecified
Rotation:
—
Mike - Unspecified
Rotation:
mantyke • mawile • igglybuff • natu • piloswine • slowking
Erica - Normal/Poison
Rotation:
teddiursa • flaaffy • vulpix • corsola • bellossom • venonat
up next: ruby/sapphire/emerald
< prev
#cj talks#pokemon au#stranger things#the party#i tried tagging people who liked the previous installment
16 notes
·
View notes
Photo
La Mode nationale, no. 18, 4 mai 1901, Paris. No. 10. — Groupe de toilettes pour dames, jeunes filles et enfants. Bibliothèque nationale de France
Explications des gravures:
(1) Robe de promenade pour fillettes de 10 à 11 ans, en lainage fantaisie bleu-saphir. Robe façon Empire, sur une seconde jupe en forme. La robe est plissée à la taille; petit boléro drapé, fixé sous un chou; col revers appliqué de guipure blanche; col drapé en taffetas bleu. Manches à revers augereau, brodé; bouffant de taffetas bleu froncé dans un poignet droit.
Matériaux: 4 mètres de lainage; 2 mètres de taffetas.
(1) Walking dress for girls aged 10 to 11, in fancy blue-sapphire wool. Empire style dress, on a second shaped skirt. The dress is pleated at the waist; small draped bolero, fixed under a cabbage; lapel collar applied with white guipure; draped collar in blue taffeta. Augereau cuffed sleeves, embroidered; puff of blue taffeta gathered in a right wrist.
Materials: 4 meters of wool; 2 meters of taffeta.
—
(2) Robe de five o'clock pour jeune femme ou jeune fille, en foulard blanc à ramages rose pâle. Jupe en forme, collante des hanches, guipure blanche. Boléro arrondi bordé de guipure. Col revers de batiste entouré d'un volant plissé; Chemisette en liberty blanc plissé; bouffant de manches froncé dans un poignet droit.
Matériaux: 10 mètres de foulard; 2 mètres de liberty.
(2) Five o'clock dress for a young woman or girl, in white scarf with pale pink branches. Shaped skirt, tight hips, white guipure. Rounded bolero trimmed with guipure. Cambric lapel collar surrounded by a pleated ruffle; Pleated white Liberty shirt; puff sleeves gathered in a right wrist.
Materials: 10 meters of scarf; 2 meters of liberty.
—
(3) Manteau élégant pour dame d'un certain âge; fleurs de Chantilly découpées, rebrodées en relief et appliquées sur du gros tulle. Volant de mousseline de soie noire surmonté de bouillonnés en mousseline de soie. Au col, ruche terminée par des pans faisant rabat.
Matériaux: 5 mètres de tulle; dentelle en laize pour découper; 10 mètres de mousseline de soie.
Chapeau de crin noir fleuri de roses.
(3) Elegant coat for a lady of a certain age; Chantilly flowers cut out, re-embroidered in relief and applied to heavy tulle. Black silk muslin ruffle topped with swirls of silk muslin. At the collar, a ruche ending in sections forming a flap.
Materials: 5 yards of tulle; wide lace for cutting; 10 yards of chiffon.
Black horsehair hat flowered with roses.
—
(4) Robe en homespun oyster. Jupe ample du bas bordée de deux bouillonnés de taffetas vert même ton entre lesquels court une broderie pailletée acier. Quille de taffetas froncillé fixée par une broderie. Corsage drapé bordé de broderie, décolleté sur un plastron plissé à plis lingerie en taffetas blanc. Col en taffetas brodé entoure de petits plissés. Manche mitaine à petit volant de taffetas.
Matériaux: 6 mètres d'homespun; 3 mètres de taffetas.
(4) Dress in homespun oyster. Full skirt at the bottom lined with two bubbles of green taffeta of the same tone between which runs a steel sequined embroidery. Ruched taffeta quille fixed with embroidery. Draped bodice edged with embroidery, neckline on a pleated plastron with lingerie pleats in white taffeta. Embroidered taffeta collar surrounded by small pleats. Mitten sleeve with small taffeta flounce.
Materials: 6 yards of homespun; 3 meters of taffeta.
—
(5) Robe de promenade pour jeune femme ou jeune fille, en granité havane clair. Jupe rayée de biais en travers, devant uni; Boléro croisé, rayé de biais; gilet de taffetas blanc piqué noir et fermé par de très petits boutons. Col revers en taffetas bleu ou panne ou velours léger. Cravate en mousseline de soie bleue. Manches rayées de biais.
Matériaux: 7 mètres de granité; 0m,50 de taffetas bleu; 1 mètre de taffetas blanc.
(5) Walking dress for a young woman or girl, in light Havana granite. Striped skirt across, plain front; Bolero crossed, striped on the bias; vest in white taffeta with black stitching and fastened with very small buttons. Lapel collar in blue or panne taffeta or light velvet. Blue Chiffon Tie. Bias striped sleeves.
Materials: 7 meters of granite; 0m.50 of blue taffeta; 1 meter of white taffeta.
—
(6) Robe de réception pour jeune femme ou dame d'âge moyen, en crépon geranium. Jupe drapée, bordée de biais de taffetas blanc avec dépassant noir et ouverte de côté. L'ouverture est ornée d'un plissé en mousseline de soie. Corsage blouse rentré sous une ceinture corselet en satin noir. Grand col faisant empiècement, bordé de biais blancs et d'un volant plissé en mousseline de soie noire. Manche élargie du bas, garnie comme l'empiècement.
Matériaux: 12 mètres de crêpe; 4 mètres de taffetas blanc; 6 mètres de mousseline de soie; 1 mètre de taffetas noir pour les dépassants.
(6) Reception dress for a young woman or middle-aged lady, in geranium crepon. Draped skirt, bordered on the bias in white taffeta with black overhanging and open on the side. The opening is decorated with a silk chiffon pleat. Blouse bodice tucked under a black satin corselet belt. Large yoke-shaped collar, edged with white bias and a pleated flounce in black silk muslin. Sleeve widened at the bottom, trimmed like the yoke.
Materials: 12 meters of crepe; 4 meters of white taffeta; 6 meters of chiffon; 1 meter of black taffeta for the overhangs.
—
(7) Jupon de costume, en taffetas soufre. Au bas, trois volants en mousseline de soie or, surmontés d'un bouillonné; au-dessous, dents aiguës dessinées par des bouillonnés posés pied contre pied, et remplies par des croisillons en comètes de velours noir.
Matériaux: 6 mètres de taffetas; 6 mètres de mousseline de soie.
(7) Suit petticoat, in sulfur taffeta. At the bottom, three ruffles in gold silk muslin, topped with a swirl; below, sharp teeth drawn by swirls laid foot to foot, and filled with lattices like comets of black velvet.
Materials: 6 yards of taffeta; 6 yards of chiffon.
#La Mode nationale#20th century#1900s#1901#periodical#fashion#fashion plate#color#description#Bibliothèque nationale de France#dress#cape#suit#collar#petticoat
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
And here it is! 🩷✨ Vampire Aemond x Siren Jace! for the JacemondAutumnWeek2023 event!
Day 5: Monster/Ghost AU, Serial Killer, Horror AU.
I'll quickly tell you that in my little AU, Jace and Aemond have been together for several decades.
They like to hunt in nightclubs, where Jace is in charge of attracting their victims, usually men eager to take Jacaerys to the bed.
Aemond's ring allows him to walk in daylight, it was a "gift" from a witch that they met at Harrenhal, she gave it to him in exchange that they spared her life.
Jace's belt is a gift from Aemond, made of sapphire, valyrian steel, and black pearls. It was Aemond's way of telling Jace that he is his whole heart.
They met when Aemond saved Jace from a northern hunter, that day Aemond lost an eye, but gained something more valuable.
For years the descendants of that hunter have been hunting them without success.
They seek revenge for the violent death of Alaric Stark.
Currently Cregan Stark is the annoying hunter who has been chasing them, but what irritates Aemond the most is the interest that the man seems to have in Jacaerys.
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
House of the dragon fic list
Prompt list
🐉Daemon Targaryen 🐉
(Requested) We only have each other pt1 pt2 sequel
(Requested) my dragonfire tw: sh, suicidal thoughts, depression, self deprivation.
(Requested) daemon x healer!reader
(Requested) daemon x stark!reader
(part 2 coming soon??)
Some daemon shit I came up with on a whim
Sick!reader being taken care of by Daemon.(requested)
Sleepy cuddles and good morning kisses (requested)
Series:
The curse called love Pt1 pt2 pt3 pt3.5 pt4
Aemond Targaryen
Aemond’s reaction to reader doing something badass (requests.)
Aemond x reader where he shows off his sapphire eye. (Requested)
Possessive!Aemond x Stark! Reader who had to go back home. (requested)
Aemond x Fem! Lannister!reader who’s like Cersi but a tad nicer (requested)
Aemond x highborn! Fem! Reader who can fight and defends his honour by threats. (Requested)
Dark!Aemond x fem!reader who’s secretly just as Dark. (Requested) tw: Yandere like tendencies and a poor bloodied and bruised stable boy.
Aemond x reader song lyric fic (requested) tw: death, stabbed, blood
Aemond x fem!Stark! Reader who hated each other for ages but one situation changes all that. (requested)
Aemond x male!reader who dies in repentance for Lucaerys’ death. (Requested)
Aegon II Targaryen
A small Drabble I made up on the spot.
Heavy is the head that wears the crown. (Full credit to @goldensunfyre )
Valyrian Steel Heart (part 2 of @goldensunfyre idea)
“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”
“C’mon, we’d look cute together.”
“Is that my shirt?” (Modern AU request)
“What? Am I not allowed to look at you?”
#Dorito-dust convos🦦
This is the section where you tell me your ideas and such and I go on a tangent longer then my love life cuz I’ve got so much to say. 🦦
Wingman Vhagar
#hotd fic#hotd x you#hotd fanfic#hotd imagine#hotd x reader#hotd imagines#house of the dragon x you#house of the dragon fic#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon imagine#house of the dragon imagines#daemon targaryen x you#daemon targaryen fanfic#daemon targaryen fic#daemon targaryen imagine#daemon targaryen imagines#daemon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen x you#aegon targaryen imagine#aegon targaryen x reader#Dorito-dust convos🦦
305 notes
·
View notes
Text
MSA x FNAF: Security Breach AU: The Mysterious Mall of Crystal's Chapter 8: Mystery Teams are close peek/crack open watching/Sarah have to remember realized that sames of Vanessa is Vanny same person who has identified same like Ivan is Ivannie
Mystery Teams are spying hiding close peeking/cracking open without noticing by Enemies. Sarah is shocked to realize that the flashback to the last same of Vanessa is Vanny to like same with Ivan is Ivannie
Sarah: (Think: Oh my God! Not good! I remember that like same with Vanessa!)
Sapphire is shocked
----
For @laurasanchez36
Mystery Skulls Animated MSA belongs to Ben and MysteryBen27 of YouTube YT Series
Fnaf Security Breach Game belongs to Scott Cawthon and Steel Wool
All my msa ocs and all my new msa ocs belongs to me
All her msa ocs and all her new msa ocs belongs to @laurasanchez36
#msa x fnaf sb#msa x fnaf sb au#msa au crossover#msa au#my new msa ocs#my msa ocs#her msa ocs#her new msa ocs
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
RWBY DC AU #1; Race of the Century!
Lisa Lavender: I’m Lisa Lavender with Vale News, and we are live in Vale at the starting line for the charity event people are calling, “The Race of the Century!”
Lisa(walking over to the start line where the Justice League, Justice Society and Young Justice are chatting with each other): This charity event is being held to raise funds for Beacon’s curriculum and the upkeep of Vale’s borders against the Grimm.
Lisa(as she approaches the participants of the race): As well as answer the question many have asked concerning our beloved heroes, just who is the fastest?
Lisa(as she walks up to Sage Ayana): Here with me is the Justice League’s Huntsman Representative, Sage Ayana, can you tell our viewers about the contestants Mr Ayana.
Sage(smiling): Well not only are we raising funds for Beacon and the upkeep of Vale, we’re also determining who amongst these heroes are the fastest!
Lisa(as the cameraman faces the each participant of the race, starting with The Justice Society’s Flash/Bart Oobleck as he warms up): The Justice Society’s own speedster, the original Flash?
Sage(Superboy/Adrien is shown stretching and channeling aura throughout his body and into his perf-boost semblance): Young Justice’s own Superboy, the Teen of Steel?
Lisa(Harriet is shown inspecting her weapon and angrily glaring at the heroes around her): Atlas’ Ace-Op member, Harriet “Hare” Bree?
Sage(as Kid Flash/Oscar is seen adjusting his red gauntlets and red soles of his black boots, before making sure that his silver mask is perfectly adjusted for his high speed run with help from Robin/Whitley): One of my preferred contestants, Young Justice’s Kid Flash, the Fastest Teen Alive?
Lisa(as Superwoman/Yang is shown going over the route for the race on a map with Batwoman/Blake and Star Sapphire/Nora): His mother, the Justice League’s own Superwoman?
Sage(as The Flash/Jaune is seen eating an energy bar and memorizing the route with help from Green Lantern/Ruby and Green Arrow/Sun): Or will the Flash prove himself worthy of his title, “Fastest Man Alive”?
Lisa(as the camera pans back to them): We should go over the route for our viewers at home.
Sage(nodding his head as he motions to a screen behind him, showing the continents of Remnant): Right! The racers will start here in Vale.
Sage(Aquaman/Neptune bursts up from the shores of Menagerie with Red Tornado/Penny observing from her place next to the first checkpoint): They’ll have to race across the ocean to reach Menagerie, potentially breaking the sound barrier as they do so!
Sage(as the screen shows Troia/Pyrrha and a large crowd at the second checkpoint in Mistral): They’ll then race to the next checkpoint in Mistral.
Sage(Wonder Woman/Winter is shown on the streets of Mantle at the third checkpoint): Brave the harsh blizzards of Atlas to reach the third checkpoint in Mantle, marking the halfway point.
Sage(while Dr Fate/Ozpin and Cyclone/Glynda are shown at the fourth checkpoint at the edge of the Grimmlands): Cut across the borders of the Grimmlands, passing the fourth point as they go.
Sage(Superman/Taiyang is seen hovering by the fifth checkpoint in Vacuo with Constantine/Qrow zipping from his flask nearby): From there, they’ll continue going as they cross the scorching sands towards Vacuo!
Sage(as the starting line is seen once again): They race across the continent in a full on race back to the starting point here in Vale!
Sage(as he is seen once again): Whoever crosses the finish line first, well be declared the fastest!
Lisa(as Green Lantern/Ren hovers above the start line): It appears as though the race is about to begin!
Lisa(as the racers take their places upon the start line): Each contestant has been given a special bracelet to help track their progress from here.
Sage(as one of the bracelets is shown on Jaune’s wrist, as he pulls his glove back into place, hiding it): These bracelets also provide them with the route they’ll take, as well as record they’re highest speed.
Green Lantern/Ruby(kissing her husband on the cheek as he lines up on the start line): You got this sweetie!
Superwoman/Yang(offended by her sister picking Jaune over her): What am I, chopped liver?!
Green Lantern/Ren(making a construct flare gun once everyone is lined up): Ready?!
Green Lantern/Ren(as Superboy and Superwoman crouch slightly): On your marks…
Green Lantern/Ren(as Harriet assumes a three-point stance and lightning emits from her eyes with a scowl on her face): Get set…
The three Speedforce users’ vibrate in place, generating a great deal of lightning each as Ren finally fires of the green flare to send them on their way.
Green Lantern/Ren(as the flare shots up into the sky): GO!!!
The six contestants take off with a huge gust of wind, lightning and a boom left in their wake.
Only one will win!
#rwby#rwby dc#rwby dc au#rwby jaune arc#the flash#rwby oscar pine#kid flash#yang xiao long#superwoman
64 notes
·
View notes
Note
sapphire-tinted steel, less studying you and moreso the fics/aus
The meme
I'll take it!
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
MSA x FNAF: Security Breach AU: The Mysterious Mall of Crysta's Chapter 17: They saw and founds Vladdy and Burntrap/Burntrap and Vlad orders Vanny and Ivannie to kill them/They are chasing by Vanny and Ivannie/Muffet and Merissa had idea to play The Adventures Quest 1 to stop Vanny and Ivannie/Vanny and Ivannie stops and unmasked/They saids "Vanessa?" and "Ivan?"
**they saw and founds vladdy and burntrap**
Glamrock Me/Laura, Glamrock Freddy, Glamstar Crysta and other glamrock and glamstar animatronics: Burntrap!
Sarah/You: But u burntrap, u suppost to be defeated by the blob in the Underground from the same place called "Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex" and escaping from u!
Sapphire the Dog/Kitsune, Samathan the Polterdog/Polterkitsune and others: Yeah
Burntrap: Oh, but i was escaped andd help by my friend of mine
Vladdy: **appears from the shadows** Yeah, he means "me"
Glamrock Me/Laura, Glamrock Freddy, Glamstar Crysta and other glamrock and glamstar animatronics: **gasp** Vladdy!
Maxy Yukino: Vladdy? aren't u the main star of the show restaurant called "Vladdy and friends' pizza dinner place?" in 1980?
Judy (Muffet's cousin): Wait, what? u means he's the former main star of the show restaurant called "Vladdy and friends' pizza dinner place" who was the one about kids who loves this place and he meeting a little girl who like befriends and having ragdoll/plush doll, and the workers with the cops/police are closing Vladdy and friends' pizza dinner place down, because that accident about vladdy biting the bully's neck and the adults are running away with their kids from him? how?
Vladdy: Ah yes, that **evil laugh** that's why i teach that bully some manners and not to bullying kids
Burntrap: Yeah, Vanny... after them! **orders vanny**
Vladdy: Ivannie, get them! **orders ivannie**
Vanny and Ivanne: With pleasure
Glamstar Crysta: RUUUUUUN!
**Sarah/You, Sapphire the Dog/Kitsune, Samathan the Polterdog/Polterkitsune and others, Glamrock Me/Laura, Glamrock Freddy, Glamstar Crysta and other glamrock and glamstar animatronics are chased by Vanny and Ivannie**
Merissa: Muffet, wait! i have a idea! **pointing finger at The Adventures Quest 1 Game**
Muffet Pepper: This game reminds me "Princess Quest 1 Game", let's do this!
**Muffet Pepper and Merissa are playing The Adventures Quest 1 game to stopped Vanny and Ivannie, and finally Vanny and Ivannie are faint and defeated**
Muffet Pepper: Alright, now let's see who was under these masks?
**They are first unmasking Vanny is... Vanessa, then they are unmasking Ivannie is... Ivan**
Sarah/You, Sapphire the Dog/Kitsune, Samathan the Polterdog/Polterkitsune, Arthur, Vivi, Arthur, Mystery, Mystery Teams, Glamrock Me/Laura, Glamrock Freddy, Glamstar Crysta and other glamrock and glamstar animatronics: Vanessa? Ivan?
@sfcabanasstarcgs and @mysteryideasgroup
Mystery Skulls Animated MSA belongs to Ben and MysteryBen27 of YouTube YT Series
Fnaf Security Breach Game belongs to Scott Cawthon and Steel Wool
All my msa ocs and all my new msa ocs belongs to me
All her msa ocs and all her new msa ocs belongs to @sfcabanasstarcgs and @mysteryideasgroup
#msa x fnaf sb#msa x fnaf sb au#msa au crossover#msa au#my new msa ocs#my msa ocs#her msa ocs#her new msa ocs#my new msa x fnaf sb ocs#my new msa x fnaf sb enemy ocs
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
So,
I'm starting to consider I really might have some problems...my head is filled by too many ideas, and really, who am I to stop it?
And really... all this Aemond Targaryen brainrot, is not doing my schedule and my brain any good. Will I stop it?
Hell no.
Do I have too many wips?
Hell yeah.
Am I about to start another because my head is just full of ideas and I'm just there, in the backseat, watching it write havoc in several parallel universes in which I set my stories?
Abso-fucking-lutely.
Am I gonna forget my other stories?
Hell no, today I'm updating Empress of the World with the first half of the next chapter (I tell you it has become monstrously long), so you can rest safely, not gonna abandon any of them.
But is this one coming?
As sure as winter, let me tell ya.
So, sparked by the whole scene with the dagger and its inscription, Catelyn Stark my beloved, my new idea revolves around time-travel AU Sansa/Aemond.
I am opening a poll for the title, any suggestions?
For now the possibilities are:
Speak some sense to me
Thou have snow in thy eyes
Kissed by fire ~ Kissed by steel
From my blood comes the prince that was promised to bring the Dawn.
Some say seven are the hells and seven the heavens. Other says there is only one hell, and it's the one we live in.
All Sansa could think of as snow twirled and the wind howled around her was that her lips were blue by the cold, her hands were puffy and red, slowly becoming livid at the fingertips and even the ember of the Heart Tree had turned to frost as the words on her lips.
(...)
“No,” she pleaded taking a step back, stumbling, her limbs suddenly not at all graceful as they had been. Still the wight persevered.
Stick them with the pointy end, Arya had told her, but the obsidian knife was suddenly gone from her hand. The blade shone in the feeble light of the torches and Theon screamed something, though Sansa could not hear him.
All that mattered was Bran, Bran still sitting still as a statue, his eyes completely white, the wind kissing his cheeks and painting them red for the cold, the tip of his nose starting to freeze.
She felt the fear, but was too numb to feel the bite of the blade against her when it pierced her. All she remembered before stumbling to the ground was that the wind was howling even more fiercely and whilst her hands were bloody red and she knew her blood was painting the snow red, she could not feel its burn against her side.
(...)
Pale. The woman was pale, unresponsive as the Maester busied himself at her bedside. The only spark of color was the red of her matted hair. He wondered which color her eyes were.
(...)
Sapphires. Her eyes were the color of sapphires.
57 notes
·
View notes
Note
Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤ (if you want!)
Hell yeah, let's go:
sepelio - the Bernice Summerfield/Hannibal fusion AU (for obvious reasons)
wires got the best of him, the s2 Game of Rassilon Parker Killian character study that got out of hand but I'm still very fond of because come on. Parker.
Over the Moon - an interactive fiction/game piece for an obscure 1999 text-parser IF game that I wrote for last year's Yuletide. Abstract, strange, and I also wrote a soundtrack for it.
mice on venus - Seven and Ace modern AU, in which they play Minecraft and talk about family issues. I promise it's a lot better than it sounds.
Don't Get Attached - Sapphire and Steel, 10k of Silver and Ruby getting attached to a human and suffering about it.
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
BOTW AU where Zelda is a guy (And also sleeps for 100 years)
Honestly, a lot of the characteristics could stay the same. Imagine those two dorks having to deal with a century's worth of problems while having nothing but a pair of ragged clothes, a stick, a magical IPhone and lot's of mental issues.
A key factor of this AU is that Zelda very much remembers everything but Link doesn't, so while one of them struggles with the fact that all of his loved one are gone as he abandoned them, the other one struggles to even understand the situation and why he even feels this pain (Think Steven and Sapphire compared to Connie and Ruby in Here comes a Thought, that kind of dynamic).
Now, is there any use for the genderbend other than to make it gay? While originally no, I actually thought about the implications and how to work with them. More specifically, that Zelda doesn't awake to his power not because he lacks confidence, but because no one thinks he has any to begin with.
Essentially, after years and years of passing down legends, it is belived that the men in the royal family just don't have any magic power and that their role is to become leaders and have daughters in case the Calamity strikes again.
King Rhoam and his wife are told that Ganon will resurge once again, so they try to have a kid, they named them Zelda thinking it will be a girl, but ¡BAM! It's a boy. The queen dies after giving birth because drama and the king starts conteplating why the heck did he not have a kid with a gerudo woman to very much guarantee a daughter.
Oh and remember, this isn't a prince with a heart of steel who is ready for any battle. This is very much the same nerd who can be snapped like a twig by a light breeze, only that now he doesn't even try to awaken to his power.
So you have a roadtrip through the land of Hyrule with a traumatized prince with 0 survival skills and a feral amnesiac with some great battle instincts. Perfect recipe for fun adventures, interesting drama, subtle (and not so subtle) hints at romance, heartfelt moments and interesting battle sequences. Because maybe this Zelda isn't about fighting, but he has the power of SCIENCE.
#zelda#link#zelink#link x zelda#gay#genderbend#male zelda#rule 63#breath of the wild#botw#botw au#totk#tears of the kingdom
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 491, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU
SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?
WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death
WORDS: 1140
Because of my unexpected reaction to the new medication, I was to stay an additional two days in the hospital, which only meant one thing.
More disgusting hospital food.
Ick.
I woke up the next morning with a moan, blinking the sleep encrustment from my eyes as I sought out my husband and newborn daughter. I relaxed when I found them over by the window, where Peter was describing the view in a gentle rumble.
“And that tree over there probably has a nest with eggs in it,” he was saying. “Maybe bluebirds or robins or the likes.”
I smiled as I rolled onto my side to face him before sitting up and turning my sleepy sapphire blue eyes to face them.
PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT- PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT- PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT- PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT- PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT- PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT- PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT
“Incoming!” Peter chuckled as laughter and cheers rang from the halls right before the door slammed open with a BANG and in poured a small army of inflatable dinosaurs.
I burst out into loud cackles as the kids jumped into the bed with me, now knowing why everyone outside had been making such delighted and amused sounds.
“The dinos are back!” I gasped as little girl pressed herself under an arm, making what I could only assume were what she thought dinosaurs sounded like. “To what privilege do we honor with the return of the inflatable dinosaurs?”
“No such special occasion,” shrugged Katie with a girlish giggle.
“We just wanted to bring them out!” Elizabeth informed me as the two of them proudly showed off their American Girl mini me’s, also in dinosaur costumes, abet not inflatable.
“Mamamamamamama!” screeched Baby Tommy as the chubby little man army crawled to my other arm before sitting up and looking at me with worship in his baby eyes. “Mamamamamamama!” He proudly showed me his dollie, who was dressed in a matching outfit to what Elle and Jing were wearing.
“I did not sleep much last night mommy,” Elizabeth told me, drawing attention to the dark bags etched underneath her eyes. “My anxiety was horrible.”
“Poor baby,” I cooed, welcoming her in against me. “Do you want to take a nap now?” I chuckled as I realized that she was conked out, breathing easily against my chest.
“Knock knock!”
I turned my attention and smiled at Isabelle, who carried a textbook in her arms.
“Sorry, do you mind if I study?” she asked as she situated herself in a chair. “My American history teacher has been hinting at dropping a pop quiz on us all.”
“No, go ahead!” I chuckled as a police officer appeared in the doorway.
“Can I come in?” he hemmed, shifting from one foot to the other awkwardly.
“I can take the kids to go show the nurses what they’re wearing!” Isabelle offered at once before herding the terror of inflatable dinosaurs out the door and back down the hallway again, leaving Elizabeth behind to continue napping against me.
“We caught the young man who purposely hit Mary Claire before fleeing the scene,” he told us bluntly. “It’s still an in progress case, but I thought you may want to know that the perpetrator has been collared.”
“Oh thank god,” Peter sighed, coming over to offer me with Baby Violet Marie for a snuggle.
“Your friend, Slitzy-is that his name?- chased the young man for close to three miles and caused quite the chase between law enforcement and other people wanting to bring him to justice.” The corners of his eyes crinkled upwards.
“Did he say why he did it?” Peter’s voice was tight as he glared a hole into the floor. “Did he say why he tried to kill my wife and unborn daughter?”
“It’s still under investigation,” the officer repeated himself in a nervous tone of voice, shifting on his feet as Peter raised himself to his full height and puffed out his chest intimidatingly.
“I see.” I could practically see the rage rolling off of my husband’s shoulders in angry red waves.
Just then, Baby Violet Marie let out an extremely violent sneeze before recurling herself back into my chest with a soft baby mumble.
“Oh bless you, sweet baby!” Peter cooed softly, immediately dropping his big bad beefcake exterior at once. He took to his knees, reaching across to press gentle knuckles into the side of my face.
The newborn shifted in place for a brief moment before settling back down once more, her little foot twitching as she dreamed sweet little baby dreams.
“Sweet baby,” I murmured in a soft voice as the police officer left and the terror of inflatable dinosaurs came back into the room, causing for a happy smile to overtake my face. “Adorable baby. You are mommy’s good girl.”
I smiled when Baby Violet Marie looked up at me with my sapphire blue eyes before entangling her itty bitty baby fist into my loose curls and drifting back off to sleep once more.
I began to hum softly as Peter draped her with a green blankie that I had lovingly crocheted for the newest member of the family.
“Gramacy, my love,” I murmured, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I think I’ll take a little nap now.”
“Okay sweetheart,” he chuckled, scooping Baby Violet Marie from my arms, carefully forcing her to let go of my curls and replacing them with his hair as he blessed her forehead with a whiskery kiss. “Take a nap now. I’ll give Baby Violet Marie a bottle if you’re not up soon, yeah?”
“Perfect daddy,” I mewled, chuckling as Elizabeth curled in closer to me. “I love you, my Elizabeth. Let’s go off into a land of dreams and love together, shall we now?”
Gramacy, thank you, old French?
TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED
If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!
PETER STEELE TAGLIST
@rock-a-noodle
@ch3rry-c01a
#Real person fiction (RPF)#Tattooed Wings#Peter Thomas Ratajczyk#Type O Negative#Vanessa Rose Pickings/ little girl#Special needs baby#Aria Bradley#Evie Bradley#Deaf#American Sign Language (ASL)#Elizabeth Ratajczyk#Alopecia#Thomas Joseph Ratajczyk/ Baby Tommy#Autism#Katie Ratajczyk#Down’s Syndrome#Baby Violet Marie#Neonatal death#Matching tattoos soulmate AU
4 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
lifsummer-blog
A PLACE TO LET MY SOUL OUT
anatomyofjamesyates
ANATOMY of
JAMES YATES
hoidn
ephemera & shouting
aliyafatima
Blahhh Whatever
optimisticbeardefendor
Untitled