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cassiefromhell · 10 months ago

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Blings, Rings, & Other Things

Sukuna x Concubine!Reader

wc: 1.5k

warnings: mention of sex, nakedness

a/n: i tried my hand at sukuna. don’t squint too hard. as always, requests are open, pls send me things because I'll write anything and I'm bored

You need to ask Lord Sukuna for a new necklace.

You sit in front of your elegant mirror, lounging on the ornate carpet with all of your necklaces laid out in front of you. Diamonds, emeralds, sapphires. But no rubies.

How do you not own a single ruby necklace?

Your Lord gave you a stunning red dress for the ball tonight, one that flatters you in every way. But somehow, you have no necklace to match. And it’s crucial that you look impeccable, because an extremely politically important Lady and her full entourage arrived last night, and they will all be at the ball, too. Sukuna’s whole harem was invited, expected to dress to reflect on his power. Which consisted of you, since he had permanently dismissed all his other concubines months ago.

But you had no ruby necklaces.

You sigh, running a hand through your still-damp hair. Your dressers will be here soon, pampering you for the event ー maybe you could get one of them to grab you a ruby necklace from… somewhere. You weren’t sure where Lord Sukuna got all those exquisite things.

A soft knock comes on your door, and you straighten, quickly jumping to your feet. Your maids will kill you when they see that you’ve been sitting and pondering instead of finishing your hair. You place all your necklaces back where you had them laid out on the bureau, hurriedly arranging them nicely.

The knock comes again, just as you’re crossing your large room to get to your dressing room, where your silk robe is hung up. Because you were stupid enough to be sitting around naked, and now you’re definitely pissing off your personal staff with your tardiness.

“Just a moment, ladies,” you call out, taking the robe down. “Not clothed yet!”

“I don’t mind,” a purr of a voice says against your ear, familiar hands wrapping around your waist.

You flinch, practically flying off the ground, then slowly sink back into Sukuna’s gentle embrace, your bare back leaning against his outiftted chest.

“By the Gods, you scared me,” you murmur, turning your head to kiss his cheek. “You’re so fast, I couldn’t hear you coming. I thought you were Izumi and Murasaki.”

“You called me ‘ladies,’ so I assumed so,” he hums.

Sukuna takes your chin between his index finger and thumb, gently tilting your head up to look at him properly. He gives you a tender kiss, something that’s so rare from Sukuna, with his… well, brutish persona. But he gives you that softness in this moment that you so crave, his tongue dancing with yours.

When he breaks the kiss, you open your eyes and gaze up at him. You chew your bottom lip. “Is something happening? You were supposed to be in a meeting with the Lady and her advisors until an hour before the ball, and it’s only just past noon…”

He releases you and takes one long stride backwards to lean against the wall. “I left early.”

“How come?” You ask, slipping your robe on and raising a brow. “Did something happen?”

“Yes.”

You narrow your eyes. You know Sukuna usually tries to keep you out of courtly matters; he says he doesn’t want you to carry the burden that he does. But right now, he’s being exceptionally quiet.

“Are you going to elaborate?” You turn and leave the dressing room, figuring you may as well finish drying your hair as you talk. At first you had assumed he had visited for sex before the long night ahead of you both, but the atmosphere has dimmed down quickly.

“The visiting Lady Taira and her advisors have come with a marriage proposition between myself and Lady Taira, organized by her cousin,” Sukuna replies, tone giving none of his emotions away.

Marriage!

You nearly trip and fall, but quickly recover, taking a sharp breath and continuing to your dresser. You refuse to let something so little bother you. After all, no matter how many fancy things he buys you, or nights he lets you stay in his bed instead of immediately sending you back to your chambers, or times he tested the words “I care for you,” when he thought you were asleep, you are merely a concubine. A woman to be kept pretty, to be called upon for sex or comfort or every once in a while, someone to complain to. You know this. And so, with an unshaking hand, you grasp a dry hair towel and watch him in the mirror.

“That’s a very good offer,” you hum, traitorous heart thrumming in your chest. “Lady Taira is said to be the loveliest lady of all. Your council has been trying to get you to marry for months now. She would be a nice candidate for you, I think.”

He scoffs, sitting on your bed. Your eyes meet in the mirror. “She is not the loveliest lady. Not even close.”

“Oh? Well, a marriage to her would surely be beneficial,” you turn to face him with now-dry hair. “When will you announce the engagement?”

“I did not accept the offer.”

You blink. And again. And again. A moment ago you thought your heart couldn’t pound any harder, and you thought wrong.

“Why?”

“Because my council isn’t the King of Curses. I am. I dictate who I want to marry, and it is not that Lady,” he crosses one set of arms over his chest, the other propped up behind him as he watches you. “However, I do feel that I need a Queen of Curses.”

“Ah,” you turn back around, getting a comb and raising it to your locks, starting to work out the tangles. “Still looking for candidates, then?”

I could be your wife and queen.

You shut down that thought immediately, and not a moment later your Lord speaks again.

“It could be you.”

You freeze.

“My lord,” you sigh, slowly lowering your combing hand. “Please, do not speak words you do not mean.”

“Don’t call me Lord.”

He’s behind you in an instant, taking the comb out of your hand and picking you up, spinning you. After a flash of movement, you’re sitting up on the bureau, effectively raising you the multiple feet in height it takes for you to be eye level with him.

“You never call me Lord,” he frowns.

“I did once.”

“Yes, because Uraume was there and you’re terrified of them.”

“…That’s true.”

He leans in, speaking against your ear. His hand slides up your thigh. “It. Could. Be. You.”

Eyes widening, you swallow thickly. “…Why?”

He continues to talk against your ear, fingertips digging into your hip through your silk robe. “Because you are the only female that I enjoy the company of. That I have never once wanted to kill—”

“That’s not true.”

“What?”

“You wanted to kill me when I stole your kimono and wore it in front of all the other concubines, then they nearly killed me—”

“Don’t interrupt me.”

“Continue on.”

He sighs, pulling his face back and holding your chin steady with a hand, staring you right in the eyes. “If I am to take a wife, it will be you. If you do not want the responsibility, then I remain wifeless, damn the council. If I want an heir, you will be the one to carry it. If I want a companion, you will be there. Do you understand?”

You nod slowly.

“Words,” he growls.

“I’ll be your wife,” you blurt.

He smirks.

“On one condition,” you raise a finger, sticking it in front of his face. “I want a ring. No need for a big fancy proposal, but a nice, handpicked by you, pretty engagement ring. And we both have to wear wedding bands.”

He makes a face, nose scrunching.

You scowl, putting on your best mean voice — your attitude is the reason he likes you so much, anyway. “Oh, boo hoo, Mr. Curse King hates rings. You don’t have to wear it all the time. But we must own them.”

He narrows his eyes, then huffs. “Fine. Two out of seven days of the week.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Three, and every time we fuck.”

“I assumed that was already part of the deal, but yes, three.”

You bare your teeth. “Four out of seven or no wife.”

Sukuna leans forward, biting your bottom lip. “Fine. Four.”

“Then I’m your fiancée.”

“I’ll announce it tonight.”

And suddenly, it all feels so… real. This is actually happening. You’re marrying Sukuna.

With a squeal, you jump into his arms, wrapping your arms and legs around him. You kiss him, first his mouth, then his cheeks, then all across his neck.

“Gods, that’s enough,” he tries to push your face away, but he keeps holding you up in his embrace.

You bite his hand gently, and then whisper into his ear. “Hello, Husband.”

“I did not anticipate you to be so excited about this, woman.”

“Say it.”

“Wife.”

want a part 2 of engagement sex and fiancee duties? request it (and anything else) in my asks

#concubine reader #this is to feed my sukuna addiction like please gods send me a sukuna ty #jjk fanfic #jjk #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #fanfiction #writing #fanfic #jjk fanfiction

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 years ago

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"I don't think this is safe"

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You managed to 'persuade' Joel in to agreeing to get a piercing in exchange for you putting your old ones in.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: fem!reader, smutty themes (mostly joel being super handsy), reader has piercings on a sensitive spot (; , super mega-whipped!Joel, fluff, chaos fic, crack fic, typos, etc.

A/N: ok yall were 🤬🔪 over my last joel fic,,, and well same with the one before that, so everyone, let's just all calm down and enjoy a lil bit of this (((: as you can tell the fic is inspired by the absolute menace pedro was during the met gala T_T so well... this is not angsty at all so [throws flowers] Tagging: @multifandom-fangirl4 @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx

"Wait," he raises the hand that was on my lap, "hold on-"

I chuckle as I brush his hair back.

Joel screws his eyes shut and shakes his head slowly. His one hand, that was wrapped around my waist while I was sat on his lap, tightened around my side.

I cannot help but snort as his pulls his head back and further contorts his face in disbelief, trying to wrap his head around the information I just told him.

I curl my legs up, resting my feet by the side of his thigh, then he finally opens his eyes, as wide as saucers, and says, "you have what now?"

I laugh as he looks at me with his blown pupils. As my body shakes in amusement, I lean my forehead onto his shoulder and sigh, "do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Where is it?"

I laugh even louder and pull my head away from him, "where are my nipple piercings?"

Joel makes a face, "I wanna see."

I snigger, "well, my nipple piercings are on my nipples babe, I just don't have anything on."

He groans, "please tell me you still have them."

I let out giddy laugh and shift on his lap. I straddle him, raise a brow, and take his hands, placing them on my breasts, "what? Are my bare nips no longer enough for you?"

Joel straightens up and gives my flesh a squeeze before leaning in to place a kiss on my neck. The gruff sound he makes, paired with the scratch of his stubble, makes my body flinch in slight retreat away from him.

He pursues my skin and uses one hand to grab the side of my head to keep me in place. He bites down on my skin quickly then mutters, "never... just... remember you're with a greasy old man and you can't just say things like that and expect no repercussions."

"Repre-" I bust a lung laughing. I throw my head back, and he takes my nape in support.

Joel, though a smirk played on his lips, was not smiling because he was amused. He tugs me forward and brushes his nose against my jaw, "I gotta make that fantasy happen."

"Fantasy?" I blow a raspberry, "it's not a fantasy! I still have my piercings."

Joel suddenly falls limp as he leans back. He look like he just witnessed the descent of an angel. His jaw slacks, "you're kidding."

I grin, "at some point, I thought it was ridiculous to have bling on my breasts cos the world was burning, but then I realized, I should have even more bling cos the world is burning, ya know," I raise my brows, "so I raided a bunch of jewelry shops one time-"

"YOU'RE KIDDING-"

I laugh and lightly slap his lips. I furrow my brows at his beaming expression.

Joel shakes his head, "WHY HAVE YOU NEVER WORN THEM?!"

"Well, not everyone's into-"

"Wear something for me!" Joel squeezes my hips, "Please, please, let it be my dying wish. I-"

"You're so dramatic, dying wish-

"-wanna see my pretty baby-"

"-you're not even that old!"

"-wear bling on her pretty nipples."

Joel begins to attack my neck and digs his fingers underneath my shirt. I chuckle at his eagerness and let out a soft whimper as he drags me close to him.

"Is that a gun in your pocket?"

He hums, "I'm just happy to see you, sugar plum."

I snort and allow him a few more moments before pushing him off, "okay, but you have to do something in return."

He makes the mistake of retorting, "anything," before I even gave my ultimatum.

I give him a devilish smirk and place one hand on his jaw, brushing his lips, "I stole a piercing gun too... let me pierce your lips."

Joel's face immediately drops.

I hold back a giggle, "nuh-uh. No take backsies."

He is immediately mortified. He is so mortified, he, in fact, releases me and looks away.

I snicker like an unruly child and click my tongue, "oh, come on grampa," I take his face and force him too look at me. He, alas, shuts his eyes. I press my lips into a grin, "I promise you won't even feel it."

Joel open his eyes, just to give me a stank look, "and how you gon' manage that?"

I roll my eyes and chuckle, "you underestimate me? Ha!"

Some time later:

Ellie walks in and sees Joel with an ice pack on his chin. She makes a face, "you run into a post or what?" Joel is unamused, "or what." "He's being dramatic," I chime in. "You try getting your lip pierced," Joel mutters lowly. Ellie's face drops, "wait-- you got your lip pierced?!" "😑 I was peer pressured." "HA! Peer pressured, he says." Joel furrows his brows, "I was! 😠" "Wait!" Ellie raises her hands, "show me." "Take a hike." "It's not even that swollen!" I rebut. "You don't know swollen, honey." I roll my eyes. "HOLD ON!" Ellie stretches her hands out, "how did he get his lip pierced!?!" "Well, I got my piercing gun and-" "YOU HAVE A PIERCING GUN?!😲🤯😱" Joel makes an annoyed sound. "I WANNA GET A PIERCING TOO!😀" "No 😠" "Sure 🤭" Joel and I turn to each other. I look away after seeing his glare and give Ellie a smile and shrug, "can you promise to clean it regularly?" Ellie nods her head rapidly. I walk over to her. Joel rolls his eyes, "you better keep her piercings on her ear." "Yes, grampa," I retort. "Where else could you even get pie- Oh, right, the lips... hey, Joel, can I see w--" "Fuck off, kid," "....wow, jeez..." "Joel 🤬🔪. Apologize to Ellie right now." ".... sorry, honey." "If you're sorry, you'll show me... jerk 😋" Joel sighs and pulls his ice pack away. Ellie immediately lets out a gurgling sound of held-back-laughter. She clears her throat and raises a thumb, "that's hot 👍" Joel rolls his eyes and turns to me, "you better wear that pink sparkly jewel one later." "Later? 🤨 I'm wearing them now." "..." "..." "..." "Hey, Ellie, I'm just gonna need her to help me check on my wound in the bathroom real quick." "Ugh, what! You're such a baby, Joel," Ellie groans. "He is 🙄."

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fic #the last of us fluff #the last of us x reader #the last of us crackfic #the last of us crack fic #joel miller crackfic #joel miller crack fic #joel x reader

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auxiliarydetective · 9 months ago

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Friendly Advice

More Lux content? More Lux content. Him and Zoro have my brain in their clutches and they will not let go. This time, we're getting the nice bonus of Nami being... well, Nami. You'll see!

Zoro had to admit it �� taking a bath had been nice. It had been a while since he had felt this relaxed. He dried himself off – had he ever used a towel this soft? – and, for once, took extra care in brushing his hair. Not that it did anything. And not that he did it for anyone. Especially not for Jirou, who was still standing in front of the bathroom door, waiting for him to come out. Quickly, Zoro threw on the bathrobe and slippers prepared for him, slung his swords over his shoulder, then went to unlock the door. Just when he was about to, he hesitated, gazing back at the mirror once again.

Finally, he opened the door, only to see Jirou clutching at his chest. The moment he noticed Zoro was out, Jirou straightened himself under slightly laboured breathing.

“You okay?” Zoro asked.

“Yeah,” Jirou croaked. “I’m fine.”

“Kaya said you needed to rest. Are you sick?”

“I’m getting better.” Then, Jirou chuckled. “Are you worried about me?”

“No,” Zoro lied, “I just don’t wanna be infected.”

“Well, you’re in luck. It’s not contagious.” Jirou stretched the ache out of his bones, then nodded towards the door of Zoro’s guest suite. “Come on, let’s get you something to wear.”

Zoro looked him up and down one more time, then started walking in the indicated direction. What a weirdo, he thought. After turning maybe two or three corners, indicated by Jirou only by a simple “left” or “right” (and a tug on Zoro’s robe when he had told him the wrong direction – he definitely had, otherwise Zoro wouldn’t have turned the wrong way), the two of them reached a very large dressing room, walls and ceiling covered in clothes racks and hangers, multicolored lighting all across the room. Luffy was sitting on a stool in the middle of the room, and immediately spotted his friend when he entered.

“Hey, Zoro! Jirou! What ’cha gonna wear?”

“Something black,” Zoro murmured, still trying to process the sheer amount of clothes and colors in this room.

“How edgy,” Nami remarked from behind the dressing screen.

“Sorry,” Jirou shrugged, leaning against the doorframe, “I gotta wear my uniform. So, I’m gonna be just as edgy.”

He had unbuttoned his jacket and loosened his shirt collar a little. Zoro took his sword belt that was slung over his shoulder and leaned the weapons against an armchair before flopping down into the very same seat. At the same time, Nami stepped out from behind the screen in a black dress and a black jacket with a sparkly floral pattern.

“How’s this?”

“Still Nami,” Luffy said.

“I said I’m wearing black,” Zoro complained.

“I hate you guys,” Nami scoffed.

“The jacket’s a little baggy on you,” Jirou threw in, just before she was about to head back behind the screen. “And the sparkles won’t look good under the chandeliers in the foyer. We tried something like that on my old uniform and it didn’t work.”

“You had sparkles on your uniform?” Zoro questioned.

“Only for a few days. Then we went back to just black.”

“I feel kinda bad for Kaya,” Luffy remarked out of the blue. “All this stuff… all this space… it’s gotta make a person feel… lonely.”

“Rich people don’t have the same emotions we do,” Nami explained as she was flicking through the clothes along one of the walls. “This stuff doesn’t make her feel lonely, it makes her feel important.”

Jirou chuckled. He walked over to join Nami, putting his hands in his pockets. “Y’know, I used to think that too. But Kaya’s just a girl. She’s not one of those rich folks you know about. All of the bling in this house? Her parents’ taste. Most of the rooms in this house she doesn’t even go to. Especially the East Wing, but that’s another story.” He grinned. “Back when she was younger, we’d play tag along the halls to make the house seem smaller whenever Klahadore wasn’t home. Of course, we can’t do that anymore, but… it was fun.”

“See?” Luffy called out. “Usopp likes her, Jirou likes her… I’m sure we can work out a way to get that ship.”

“No way,” Nami mumbled. “Rich people don’t stay rich by giving things away.”

“Which one do you want?” Jirou asked.

“The one with the sheep’s figurehead,” Luffy beamed. “It spoke to me!”

To this, Jirou laughed. “Well, aren’t you a special one... I know that ship. Caravel, white railing, grinning ram as a figurehead. I think Kaya would let you have it, but you’d have to get past Merry and Klahadore first.”

“Who?”

“Merry. He manages the family’s finances.”

“What does the butler have to do with all of this?” Zoro grumbled.

“Well,” Jirou sighed, “he likes to give little nudges to Kaya. Sort of like a substitute parent. But he’s my boss, so I can’t say anything about it.”

“He’s not here.”

“Yeah, say it!” Luffy encouraged Jirou.

“Sketchy,” Jirou then said. “That’s all I’ve got to say about that. Sketchy fellow. I don’t trust him. But he pays me, so who am I to complain? – Listen, if you want that ship, I’ll put in a good word for you, I promise.”

“As if that’s going to work,” Nami chuckled.

“Wanna bet?” Luffy asked.

At the prospect of gaining money, Nami smirked. “What are the terms?”

“I bet I can convince Kaya to give us that ship.”

“And when you can’t?”

“We go with your plan.”

Before Luffy could say anything more, Nami covered his mouth. But too late. Jirou made a smug noise of suspicion.

“Well, well, well, what do I hear…? Watch out. Don’t try anything or I’m holding your swordsman hostage.”

“As if you could do that,” Zoro scoffed.

Jirou grinned, strolling over to Zoro to stand between his legs, towering over him slouching in his seat. “Try me.”

“I bet you would like that, wouldn’t you?” Nami teased.

Immediately, Jirou went bright red and whirled around, looking back at Nami.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” he called out, pointing at her in accusation and walking up to her until his finger almost touched her nose.

“Nothing,” she chirped, then threw a metallic, orange-colored shirt at Zoro.

“Go behind your fucking sheet again before I get mad at you.”

But Nami just smirked. “Your temper is almost as bad as Zoro’s. Help me pick a dress then.”

With an exasperated sigh, Jirou picked a dress off one of the racks and tossed it at her before sticking his hands in his pockets yet again, practically fuming. But then his eyes fell on Zoro, and his brain stopped working. The swordsman had thrown off his robe and was putting on the shirt Nami had given him, his muscles on full display.

“Hey, quit staring.”

“Then don’t change in front of me, you freak!”

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄✼▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @supermarine-silvally - let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

#one piece #one piece live action #one piece oc #opla oc #oc: lux jirou #otp: theseus and the minotaur #brotp: the cat is out of the bag #fyeahonepieceocs #fanfiction

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areseebee · 5 months ago

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✨❌ 🛒 🧠 (I wanna hear a headcanon for Michelle in Somday!)

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it.

i think i am very persistent and committed! and i care so much about all the characters i write, and write with a deep empathy and love for them. i want to make them understood, and i think i do a good job of that. this is especially true for erin who is babygirl to me and i think too few people truly appreciate and get her.

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

babyfic/next gen. i just don't have more than a passing care for characters' eventual children. kids are usually the boring part to me - at least if it's in the context of domestic bliss. succession-style no one breaks the cycle/the poison drips through is acceptable.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

i think i write a lot about what is said vs. what is true or, maybe put another way, that my protagonists are often the unreliable narrators of their own lives. i also find that religious imagery pops up relatively frequently for me.

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

michelle, my beloved. this isn't the first time i've said it, but michelle falls prey to the curly girl early 2000s rite of passage of only ever straightening the shit out of her hair. michelle has a little nokia with a bright pink cover and phone charm of a rainbow, and spends too much money on ringtones. michelle teaches herself basic html so she can bling out her myspace. michelle believes she could win big brother if they'd only just watch her audition tape.

fanfic writer emoji ask game

#ask #ask game #fic: someday #fic: maybe someday #michelle mallon

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tseneipgam · 2 years ago

Photo

“With a cheap little camera I took photos I later felt ashamed of. When I looked at them, it felt almost in- decent to keep in my room these fragments of other people's existence, images of a fleeting gesture, a wan- dering gaze, skulking figures, snippets of the lives of strangers who knew nothing of the persistence in my possession, for the time being, of a fragment of their life. Two black women in brightly coloured trainers and striped jackets turned up in several pictures. They are seen choosing some fish that look golden under the red glow of the awning, but will be yellow and dull at home in their kitchen. They linger over a display of white lace presided over by a yawning saleswoman in a brown an- orak. In one picture a hand reaches indecisively towards a pale-looking banana plant, its fingers wrinkled with cold craning like timid necks; the blurred stripy pattern of the sleeve shows the hand belongs to one of the two women.”

“Nowhere between Springfield Park and the mouth of the river Lea was the sky as vast as it was here. wisewhere, if the sky seemed a uniform whitish-grey, you knew that here there would be distinct clouds, if the wind elsewhere were gentle, here it would be boisterous. And here, too, the clouds constantly changed their shape and stratification; they were sea clouds, drifting in from or towards the Thames Estuary, and it was here, above this strip of land, that they would turn about. Between the willow copse and the railway embankment a cor- ridor had opened, a strip of land that did not succumb to use, an undesignated, vulnerable patch in the city through which something had entered that undermined the ruthlessness of all regimes. Under a bigger sky than anybody with an orderly life could possibly need, this place lay under the aegis of the willow copse, which, in an unusually clear light under gaily coloured autumn clouds scurrying east, I suddenly recognized as the epit- ome of the boundaries common to every childhood: a sparse grove inconspicuously dividing two worlds one must inevitably choose between.”

“Among the ashes, which still stank of burnt plastic, was a charred doll. Its hair had melted to a clump of blackness and its arms and legs were eb- onized stumps, but the sleepy blue eyes were unharmed and stared from its soot-covered face into the sky. It was a very ordinary doll, pulled off the shelf of some budget supermarket by a tired mother or grandmother on her way home from work on the eve of a child's birthday. She was just one doll among the many variously posi- tioned dolls on a shelf, but this little woman in her sequin gown and long eyelashes, who had sneaked a wink at the mother or grandmother and taken her straight back to childhood, obviously had to be the one. Nobody could have foreseen her ending this way, neither the cashier at the budget supermarket nor the mother or grandmother nor the birthday girl with her brothers and girlfriends. And yet, who does not recall those tiny and entirely reckless sacrificial altars of childhood, after which noth- ing will ever be the same again?”

“reminded of paths through similar spaces of pointlessly disturbed wilderness that were gradually succumbing to weeds and neglect, alien to beauty of any kind. There had been such prematurely tarmacked paths to nowhere in my childhood too: pending the erection of housing between the river and the village, along the railway embankments, through dank subways, and in the trem- bling shadows cast by pointy trees, fringed by rampant undergrowth, places for the furtive activities of strang- ers, which one wanted to forget straight away. There were weed-infested work-tracks around gravel pits in sight of the crater's edge, between the lean remains of sand and gravel piles. Such paths were harbingers of landscape upheavals, which sometimes were no more than rumours, forerunners of the dream of the Great Straightening of the World.”

“Whenever the word 'river' came to mind, I imagined panoramas, views, images from childhood - the post- cards memory had sent me. I ran these views and images by countless rivers, holding them up to each river land- scape as if to interrogate it for something specific. For distinct shades of blue both in the sky and in the sky's reflection on both sides of the river? For its capacity to make magic with mist, its seaward promise and pledge of a greater brightness? The comparative allure of its unknown opposite bank? I could not have said myself what it was.”

“The wind was a lesson every newcomer to the city had to learn. There were storms that would suddenly well up at night, filling the air with a cacophony of rattling. ending, clashing and clanking as all manner of objects began to detach themselves, lurching to and fro in the gusis, then tearing from their moorings completely. trundling down the streets, until eventually the paths of the wind crossed and its booty snagged and snarled. and all the plastic bottles, letterbox lids, exercise books, satellite dishes, window handles, cigarette lighters, items of washing and clothes pegs, photographs and careless- Iv hidden burglar's tools came to a halt and collapsed in a heap at a bend in the road or on the pavement. Then there were the long storms, which announced their ap- proach with a high-pitched howl caused by the friction of differently fast and differently coloured layers of cloud, storms which would tail off as night fell only to start afresh at the first sign of dawn, as if they were de- termined their effect on the world should be witnessed. Among the most extraordinary phenomena were the tornados, which could touch down briefly and turn whole areas of town topsy-turvy, assailing rows of hous- es and leaving their upturned roofs thrashing about in clouds of dust, while the storm itself lifted and made a clean getaway.”

“One windy day I was out looking for some useful ar- tile that might give me a sense of order and settledness and encourage me to lead my life in a more organized fashion, an object that might lure me away from living In hope of some beneficial, fortuitous event, to embrace instead the equanimity inhabited by those whose lives are shielded by habit and convention.”

“with these snapshots of lives so remote from my own that I had been granted unsolicited access to them solely through some petty burglary or disappointing inheritance or ill-starred coincidence? I could not even think of names to give the two women who turned up in all of the photographs. I asked myself the unanswerable question of what name some other person might give me if they happened upon my photo. The notion that such a stranger, beholding my face, might find no name for me at all filled me with such anxiety that I quickly went through a few names for these randomly encoun- tered women: Liza and Harriet, I thought, Kathleen and Joyce. From Dalston? Homerton? Hackney Wick? But as I tried out the names, not a twinkle did I see in their red-tinged, blurry eyes.”

“The smoke produced by burning photographs is acrid and pungent. It has a te nacious smell and is difficult to air or wash out. It can provoke a cough that will last for weeks. It is said that when faces on colour photographs slowly crumble to form a stringy, viscid ash, they can impress themselves indelibly on the beholder's mind, taking on new names and a life of their own.”

“after years of larval sleep these insects all hatch at the same time, spreading scaly-looking wings whose surfaces are iridescent with countless, tiny splashes of colour, and for a few minutes, at most for a couple of hours, they un- furl a radiant magnificence we call their life".

“travellers whose sole destination in life, Once they had got the day out of the way, was the night. There they sat, dozing, reading, or looking out of the window, in full knowledge that the bailiff was knocking on their door, their sweetheart was meeting a different sweetheart in their home, somebody entrusted to their care was vainly whining for warm milk or the daily paper, the rain was coming in through the roof and ceil- ing, carefully arranged containers had long overflowed and the patterned carpet, like a meadow in springtime, was gurgling with wetness. Some spent the entire day of travel engrossed in the same novel, or pored over last Sunday's inexhaustible newspapers. Others gazed into space, or slept, or, like me, kept wiping the window beside them to get a better view.”

“One day I noticed the trees were in blossom. In the part of town the bus was passing through, blossoms bil- lowed white and bright pink around twigs that were yet to sprout leaves, and everything in the whitish morn- ing light - trees, blossoms, houses and the softly defined vanishing points of the streets - came together to form an image whose yearning to last was so intense that the few passers-by who were out and about at that hour, even the cats and birds, stopped in their tracks for a moment or two, as if following instructions to be at their most receptive in committing something unforgettable to memory.”

“The man was a collector of bricks. He claimed to know where every brick in his warehouse came from. London stock, he said with a sweeping gesture at his store. They were all made of London earth, all fired and stamped here. He knew how to tell the various yellow coloured bricks apart, also the red, brown and mauve-black ones. He knew which ones had been used for church- es, which for hospitals and schools, which for houses and which for the boundary walls of cemeteries. There were government office bricks, factory bricks, front gar- den bricks and backyard bricks, bricks for almshouses, where two families shared three rooms, and bricks for blocks of flats with white stone dressings and mouldings and servants' entrances. He drew the tips of his fingers over the bricks in his arches and showed me the dust that had collected in his skin lines. He gave me a short lec- ture on London bricks and the reasons for their great variety. Write that down, he added. When you've got a moment....The great city of London is built on a network of countless rivers of varying age. They rise in landscapes characterized by very different kinds of rock and flow 1o the sea bringing sediment from those rocks. The mud of each underground river has a different colour and is the repository of a different history. That is why London bricks have a greater variety of colours than those of any other city in this world.”

#book

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teejoin · 9 months ago

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tomteejoin · 3 months ago

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herbiar · 5 months ago

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maitusmartwatch · 6 months ago

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webuyhousesfastllc · 1 year ago

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nanasparadise · 4 years ago

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Can you do (aged up of course), Yandere Narancia x reader. [p.s can it include any of these prompts? “ Stop denying our love! Stop denying our future together!! ”, “ Please don’t cry. Show me the smile I love so much! ”, “ You can’t escape my love.”,” You will grow to love me back, I just know it!“] Thx so much <3

“You can’t escape my love”

“You will grow back to love me, I just know it.”

Hiya anon! I hope you enjoy it! <3

Summary: Your boyfriend doesn’t understand the concept of boundaries and keeps harassing you, until he stands in front of your apartment’s door...

TW: cyber harassment, implied stalking, gaslighting, mentions of a panic attack, toxic relationship, noncon touching, curse words, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

Narancia has been aged up, no minor content on my blog!

Word count: 2155

“No escape” Yan! Narancia x gender-neutral reader

Bling. Another one of… how many messages again? You have stopped counting a while ago. An exasperated sigh escapes your lips, wondering why you haven’t turned off the volume yet. Why is he so unrelenting? Annoyed, you take your phone in your hand, staring at the twenty-five texts Narancia has left for you. At first, they have started off innocently, asking you about your well-being and your day. But as time has passed, the messages have begun becoming more invasive and have ended up being straight-up creepy.

“Why aren’t you answering me, did I do something wrong?”

“Stop being so stubborn, I know you want to be with me, too!”

“I’m always near you, you’re aware of that, right? You can’t escape my love.”

An icy shudder travels down your spine while reading the last two sentences. Fear clenches around your heart, making your chest feel heavy, your breaths short and laboured.

“’’Try out this dating app!’ they said, ‘It will be fun!’ I see where this fun has lead me to”, you think gloomily. Why on earth did you ever sign up to that damned app and had to match with Narancia? You curse yourself, curse your naivety for having expected to encounter there a nice and healthy relationship.

The only thing that has waited for you is an obsessive stalker you can’t get rid of. Of course you didn’t realise Narancia’s disturbing nature at the beginning. No, you thought of him as sweet and energetic, although a bit tiring. Your first dates were pleasant: you went to a fair, sharing candyfloss and laughter between you, to a restaurant, where the Italian nearly choked on his pasta out of excitement, to a spring picnic at the local park, bathing in the gentle sunlight. It all seemed so beautiful to you back then, so innocent. But quickly, things have changed.

Narancia has become increasingly clingy to you until it started feeling as if he was glued onto your hip. Oh, you want to go grocery shopping? He’ll come with you and help you carry your bags! You’re planning on visiting your family on the weekend? He’ll join you, he has been dying to meet them anyway!

Setting boundaries with him was extremely challenging. Every time you hinted that you’d rather like to spend some time alone, he nearly threw a fit, taking your words out of context and twisting them around.

“So you want to toss me away? You don’t think I’m important to you?”, he shouted at you, tears of anger forming in his eyes. Back then, you didn’t notice his gaslighting methods, felt guilty for prioritising yourself. But now, you don’t want to hold yourself back anymore. There isn’t any reason for you to justify yourself, especially not to someone who clearly has no right to intervene in your life like this. Your gaze travels back to your phone. All these messages, these implications, are proof enough of his unhealthy attachment to you. Hell, he even admitted following you! No matter how much you enjoyed your time together, you can’t let Narancia continue with his creepy behaviour.

Quickly, you type a text, telling the Italian that if he goes on invading your privacy, you’ll block him. For a few minutes, sweet silence dominates your living room.

“Maybe he finally got it”, you muse hopefully.

Bling. There goes your hope.

“Are you messing with me? Why would you write that?! Please, stop with these jokes, we can talk about this!” Another sigh comes out of your mouth.

“No Narancia, we actually can’t. That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell the whole time, but it seems you don’t understand. I’m sorry, but I’m gonna block you for now, otherwise I’ll go insane.”

With these final words, you block his number. Relief washes over you as you realise that the Italian can’t harass you anymore.

“It‘s kind of sad how things have turned out”, you mumble to yourself. Though you do feel some regret – after all, the two of you had shared many beautiful moments together – you abruptly stop your pondering. “No use to cry over spoiled milk, Y/N. If he keeps treating you like this, it’s best to get away from him.”

Little did you know that Narancia isn’t letting you go that easily. The following days, he kept reaching out to you towards multiple phone numbers. Every time you blocked it, a new one popped up. At this point, you’ve simply stopped using your phone altogether, only relying on the device if it’s inevitable. In those cases, you’re helplessly exposed to the unnerving messages of the young man. The latest one keeps haunting your mind, initiating your anxiety.

“I’ve been really patient with you, Y/N, but this little game is making me lose my temper. I’ll be seeing you tonight and then we settle things straight. You will grow back to love me, we’ll make up again, I just know it.”

Nervously, you eye the nearest clock in your flat. 8 p.m. What does Narancia consider ‘tonight’? Will he even come? Are you able to face him right now?

“Oh god, I need to go”, you whisper desperately, nausea manifesting itself in your stomach. You could crash at your friend’s place, you’re sure they’d understand your situation. Quickly, you gather all your important belongings, ready to flee, as a loud knocking on your front door followed by an all too familiar voice interrupts your escape.

“Hey Y/N, could you open the door for me, please?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You mutter an incoherent string of curses. Petrified, you just keep staring at the door, not daring move a single muscle in your body.

“If you don’t open the door yourself, I’ll just break it in, you know?”, Narancia shouts on the other side. The casualness of his tone scares you even more.

“How can he just be so blasé by his behaviour? Doesn’t he notice how wrong his actions are?” Actually fearing the Italian might damage your property, you accept your defeat and slowly walk up to the front door. Hesitantly, with shaking hands, you unlock it and pull the handle down. Nervousness creeps up on you, making your palms grow sweaty and your heart palpitating erratically. Soon – too soon for your liking – you meet a pair of familiar purple eyes. To your surprise, Narancia smiles upon seeing your face.

“Hi babe,” he greets you, carefree, “I’m so glad you opened the door for me! You have no clue how much I’ve missed you!” Without even waiting for you to invite him in – which you definitely wouldn’t have done – the young man marches into your flat, invading your privacy even further. Suddenly, two arms wrap around your middle and pull you close to the young man’s chest. Your breathing falters at the abrupt touch. “It’s alright, it’s only me, Y/N”, Narancia tries to comfort you. If only he knew that his presence currently gives you anything but comfort…

A few moments later, you find yourself sitting on your couch next to him. Narancia flashes you a seemingly reassuring grin all while you keep fiddling with the sleeves your shirt. You blankly stare at the floor in front of you. Even though Narancia’s behaviour is conveying sympathy, you couldn’t get rid of the intuitive feeling that this is all but a façade to lull you into a false sense of security. Who knows what he could do to you? Despite his overall sweet and fun nature, the young man doesn’t shy away from using violence if you test his – admittedly little – patience. His numerous messages flash up in your mind again. You’re painfully aware now how he made it clear that you’ve clearly missed your opportunities of being in his good graces. This realisation pushes you nearly over the edge, being on the brink of a panic attack. Would Narancia really hurt you?

“Look Y/N,” the sound of his voice interrupts your train of thought. A little startled, you immediately straighten your back and glance at his form next to you. The young man’s hand finds its way to yours, stopping your fumbling by securely grasping it. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, but what’s wrong? Why did you just ignore me like that?”, Narancia asks you. You don’t miss the hint of annoyance in his voice, indicating his true feelings. Though anxiety still has a hold on you, you try your best to fight against it and tell him the truth. After all, it’s not like you could escape this situation anyway. So you take a deep breath in and out again, before you spill your following words.

“Well, I know you’re more of a clingy person Narancia, but what you’re doing is unhealthy. You can’t expect me to give you my full attention all the time. And you definitely can’t follow me around! It’s just creepy and wrong. You know that’s considered stalking, right?”

The Italian stares back at you incredulously. You wonder what’s going on in his head right now.

“You gave me no other choice, Y/N! How am I supposed to see if you’re doing alright if you deny me like this? You really think me worrying about you makes me some deranged criminal?”, Narancia barks angrily back at you. The grip on your hand tightens. Listening to your previous gut feeling, you immediately retrieve your hand from his all while scooting away from him to gain more space between you. The dark-haired man’s jaw visibly clenches at your action, disapproval glistening in his eyes. Of course he would use his gaslighting tactics on you, he always does when things don’t go his way. Cautiously, you think for a while of what to say, not wanting to trigger Narancia’s wrath any further.

“It’s not the fact you worry about me, it’s the way you choose to show your concern. Narancia, it’s not okay what you’re doing, you’re actually making me feel very uncomfortable, even right now. Plus, you’re blaming me for your behaviour, which is, again, not acceptable”, You carefully reply, hoping to talk some sense into him.

He makes you uncomfortable? Narancia can’t comprehend your words at all. He’d been worrying himself sick the last few days, trying to reach out to you as best as possible while you cruelly kept on ignoring his countless messages. But he is supposed to be the bad guy now? The Italian scoffs intensely at that thought. He can feel the anger gnawing at his guts, ready to be released.

“You’re being ridiculous, Y/N,” Narancia reprimands you, “can’t I show you anymore that I care? That I love you? Even after you’ve blocked and ignored me? What do you expect me to do now, to just let you go?”

“Actually, I do,” you peep quietly, “I can’t continue with this madness. If you don’t want to understand and listen to me, then it’s best for you to go. Now.” Your voice grows stronger with every word you utter, finally regaining your confidence. Meanwhile, Narancia’s heart sinks to his stomach at your statement. Do you really want to leave him?

“No, no no no Y/N, you don’t mean this, right? You wanna stay with me, don’t you?”

“No, I really don’t think I do, not after you’ve shown me your true colours.”

With a force you don’t expect, Narancia pulls you suddenly against his chest again. His arms cage you in, leaving no room for you to move at all.

“This is just a misunderstanding,” the young man keeps repeating like a mantra while tightening his grasp as if you could dissipate into thin air if he didn’t cling onto you, “It’s normal for couples to fight from time to time, it’s fine. We’re fine, right? You wouldn’t abandon me for real, would you?”

“Narancia, I –“ you try to intervene, but your attempts remain futile as he cuts you off quickly.

“No, you’re not going to leave me! I’m not letting you. Look, this is but a silly fight, you’re not going to toss away our relationship for that, are you? Just remember all the beautiful moments we shared together, how happy I can make you, if you just let me!” Narancia nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. “I love you, Y/N.” He eagerly plants kisses onto your skin, making you shudder and whimper helplessly. Your eyes grow bigger, your breath quickens as you desperately look for a way to escape this situation, to escape him.

“I love you more than anything in this world. I’d gladly give up everything if it meant to spend every second with you by my side. No one can love you like this but me. Remember that next time you’re thinking I’m going to let you off the hook”, Narancia whispers in your ear, the underlying threat being crystal clear to you. No, you aren’t going to escape from him any time soon…

#JJBA #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #yandere jjba #yandere jojo #yandere narancia x reader #yandere narancia #yandere x reader #jojo golden wind #minors dni #tw: aged up character #tw: yandere #tw: noncon touching #tw: toxic relationship #tw: gaslighting #tw: cyber harassment

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jerrienelock · 3 years ago

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Royalty - Jesy Nelson

Being part of Royalty has its perks but over time those perks have a way of becoming rather tedious.

This was true for the Princess of Avonlea, Jessica Nelson, or as her closest relatives say Jesy. Since the perks had begun to retire, she had found herself looking for new things to keep her entertained.

She knew every crook and cranny of the kingdom, every escape route, every guard, every servant, but the one thing she didn't know was what was behind the golden gates that lead down to an opening in the forest of trees.

She would often admire the scenery of it from her bedroom window, which is where she finds herself now.

Her gaze stuck on the window, the faint gold of the gate blinging in the sunlight as it opens welcoming her father back from his weekly trip to his long-time friends down in a different kingdom. She had begged her father to go with him, but it wasn't a princess's duty to leave the walls of the castle. It was rather the Kings and Princes- the King in search for an applicant fit suit for the Princess, or the prince to go out and marry the nearest Princess to his liking. However, the reason her father going out all the time was not for the search of a companion for her, for she was still below the age of her meeting the requirements to marry a prince, but rather for the use of having fun with a friend- that had a son.

She had met her father's friend once or twice, but the old man had not lived up to her standards. The older King seeming rather conceited and narcissistic, just like her own. She had also met his son, Orson, an older lad just a year older than her. He was charming at first, but then he started to act like his father which threw the girl off him rather quickly. So now the thought of having to marry someone that her father chose makes her sick to the stomach. The two never got along and were nothing alike, so it was bound that the old ruler would choose someone more like him than his daughter.

Jesy sucks in her breath as her tailor pulls the string on her new corset tightly. The action pulling the girl's waist and stomach in harshly, but also lifting her breasts in support. It felt like the wind was almost knocked out of her and the brunette was left gasping for a breath.

The tailor proceeds to tie the string together before helping the young adult in a new gown that her mother had got made just for her.

"Twirl." The tailor demands stepping back, a clothing pin sticking out between his lips. Jesy does as told and twirls delicately, the dress lifting slightly.

The tailor seemed to approve of the action as he takes the pin from his lips and packs his stuff away.

Jesy thanks him, watching him leave before she steps closer to the arched window in her bedroom. She peers closer past the guards who are seeming to reopen the gates to the castle, and at a small carriage filled to the brim with boxes. You and your father sit in the front. Your father, a rather mediocre burly man with a moustache wearing a cloth dungaree that looked as though it seemed to have seen better days. And You, sporting a twice turned gown, the colour of Jesy's black buttons on her dress.

She has not seen people not so royal enter the kingdoms gates for as long as she could remember. But then again, when one from outside would venture in she would be kept hidden in hopes for the 'behaviour' of the less fortunate would not rub off on her.

However, on this day it was different.

A knock on Jesy's door tears her attention away from the window. Her mother's head appears from behind the double doors, a warm smile coating her lips. "Jessica." Her mother proceeds to enter the room, her eyes trailing over her daughter's body. "You look beautiful. Fits your physique quite nicely."

"Thank you." Jesy bows to her mother, picking the sides of her new dress up gently. "Was there anything you needed?"

Her mother purses her lips, "Yes, we have some guests from the village."

"The village?" Although Jesy does tend to dream about leaving the castle to see what lies ahead. She has left the comfort of the home a few times but it was years ago and the distant memory rather seems like a dream to the Princess - which is why she chooses to falsely believe that her parents don't want her going out.

"The one just outside the gates." The mother raises a brow and her lips form into a frown, "Has your father not taken you out to, see?"

Jesy shakes her head causing her mother to sigh, "That man, I swear." She mutters to herself but Jesy was just able to catch it. A smile shortly after makes its way onto the Queen's face "Anyhow, come along now, don't want our guests waiting too long."

Jesy follows her down to the foyer of the castle where the man, your father, and you stand in front of the King. The burly man in the dungaree laughs merrily at her fathers' words, but the Princess could tell it's just to not get on his bad side.

"Her Royal Highness." The man notices the girl and bows down slightly, you do the same with a curtsy.

Jesy gives a small smile her too bowing down only to be shortly stopped by her mother. "Jessica, this is Y/f/n and his daughter Y/n. Y/n will be a help for you."

Jesy's eyebrows clash together, "A help? I thought Mr Wilburn was my help?", Her father laughs at her words.

"He's just a tailor, not a help."

The Princess frowns and her father continues to laugh.

"Okay, hush now dear." The Queen places a hand on her husbands' arms making his laughter die down. "Y/n is going to be your help, but also be someone to keep you company."

"Company? Where are you two going?"

"Your father and I are going out to find a suitor for you." Her mother replies, "But we will only be leaving in a few days just to make sure Y/n gets settled in properly."

Jesy's frown deepens and her jaw clenches slightly. "Oh." Having heard enough from her parents, she turns to face your father who was now standing nervously, his hands peering behind the straps of his dungarees. Jesy puts on a fake smile "It was nice to meet you, sir." She turns to you, "And you Y/n, but I am afraid I will not be needing a Help or company. I have the staff and guards to do that."

"Jessica!" Her father huffs appalled at his daughters' behaviour. "This is supposed to benefit you and the Y/l/n's."

"How does it benefit me? Because you two must go out and find me a suitor, a possible eligible heir for the throne. I'm perfectly capable of taking over."

The King raises his brows in surprise before he doubles over and a sheer pure laugh of amusement comes barrelling out of his mouth. Jesy groans and storms off back to her room.

"I'm sorry about all this. I do not have a clue on what's gotten into her lately." The Queen profusely apologises to you and your father whilst the King continues to laugh his lungs out.

***

Jesy now stands in her usual spot by her window, staring out into the open. Her face is emotionless as she chooses not to let anyone see how she feels about what had just happened - despite releasing her anger down in the foyer.

It had only been a mere few minutes from when she stormed off to where her mother now stands once again with her head shoved from behind Jesy's door.

"Darling?" Her mother calls out, a slight frown curved on her lips. "Are you okay?"

Jesy doesn't acknowledge the woman's presence, rather her gaze continues to focus on the scenery- only being broken for a few seconds by the sight of your father leaving the castle and the King waving him off with a bright smile.

The Queen steps further into the princesses' room, the door widening enough to reveal you standing cautiously behind the older woman. "Jesy. Can I speak with you?" The Queen says a bit more firmly. Despite having been in the young girls' shoes once before, the woman just couldn't help but let her patience run low with the princess.

"Wait here please." She alerts you and you quickly nod. The Queen closes the door and makes her way over to her daughter.

"Jessica, I know how you are feeling about this." She rests a gentle hand on Jesy's arm. "But this is for the sake of the Kingdom."

Jesy finally looks over to her mother, "I can rule the kingdom myself."

"I know dear, but please listen, your father wouldn't understand that and there won't be much of anything I can do."

Jesy sighs, "I know mum."

The Queen frowns slightly, "How about I try and persuade him to find you someone that you'll like, and better this place."

Jesy stares at her mother in thought. There is possibly no way that the older woman would be able to convince such a man as the King to go against his set task, but a glimmer of hope from the sincerity of her mother's word ignited in the pits of her stomach. She breaks out into a soft smile, "Okay, if you can do that please."

Her mother grins and nods. Jesy continues to speak, "But why are you going to find me a suitor, I'm not of the right age yet. I'll be turning eighteen in a month?"

"Your father wanted a head start like this will be his birthday gift for you. A husband." Jesy frowns and the Queen quickly adds, "That you will love! Anyhow, I'll be gone to show Y/n her room for now. Ms Lee will come to bring you down for tea when it's ready."

***

"Her Royal Highness, tea is almost ready and the Queen would like you to wash up." Ms Lee, a long time staff member of the castle calls for Jesy, bringing the girl out of her enraptured state of thought. Jesy turns to acknowledge the older woman, "Thank you, I will be down now."

The staff member nods her head and whisks away from the room. Jesy heads out of her bedroom and into a nearby bathroom where she quickly washes her hands and straightens out her dress and hair to seem more presentable. After that, she heads down to the banquet hall where a few of the staff members are lined up along the walls, with a few still bringing in plates of food. Her parents and you sit at the table, evenly spread out.

The divine smell of the last meal of the day wafts into the young girl's nose, causing her stomach to grumble quite noisily to her dismay. Jesy mentally sends her thanks to the lord that no one had heard it due to the amount of noise being created in the room.

The girl glides over to her usual seat, which had just so happened to be right opposite to you. Jesy refrains from making eye contact with her father, for she is still greatly unpleased with the man's words and how he treated her just earlier that day. But she manages to make eye contact with her mother who sends a delightful smile her way, obviously glad that the young princess had stripped her mood, even if it is technically only to her. You had taken a look at the girl when she had taken a seat, but your look was discreet and quick so the older girl didn't catch you in the act.

The dinner was quite lengthy to Jesy's dismay, longer than usual, she had to sit at the table due to her parents taking the time to get to know you. She twirls her fork in her hand watching as the pasta that had been served was effortlessly swirling around the metal spokes. Jesy pays no mind to your conversation with her parents until she is forcefully brought into it.

"Jessica." Her mother calls for Jesy, politely dabbing a handkerchief on the sides of her mouth. Jesy looks over to her mother. "I think you should take the time to get to know our guest." Jesy nods at her mothers' request, had not wanting to put up another fight. "Thank you, dear. When you are finished take Y/n up to her room, or yours and just try to get along please."

Jesy sends another soft nod over to the queen and quickly finishes her meal and takes you up to her room.

At first, the both of you don't speak, with Jesy sitting on her bed and you standing cautiously near her cupboard. Until Jesy breaks the silence and introduces herself properly which then leads to you and her falling into a short conversation that ends up with you and Jesy laughing your lungs out on her bed.

The next day, the King and Queen were set off on their voyage, Jesy and You had waved them off and then headed back inside. Since then things were silent. Apart from the few chats Jesy and you had, nothing extremely exciting had happened. It had merely been two weeks since the two authority figures had left when Jesy had begun to start questioning you about the place beyond the walls.

You told her everything. You told her about the family business you help your dad out with, you told her about the market, and you told her about how carrying everyone is.

"It must be nice." Jesy smiles away from you, staring out to the woods. "Living in the village."

"I can take you out to the village." You offer, clasping your hands together in front of you. Jesy turns to you, her brows furrowing "But I'm prohibited from leaving the castle without permission from my parents."

You shake your head, "Her Majesty gave me permission to take you out as long as Sir Kingsley keeps guard of us."

A small smile draws onto Jesy's face and her eyes lighten up with joy, "Really!?" She takes herself away from her window and heads over to you. "That's amazing! Truly splendid. When do we leave?"

Your purse your lips in thought, "Well Princess Jessica it's truly up to you."

Jesy picks her dress up on the sides and heads straight for her walk-in cupboard, "We must leave now!" She pokes her head out from the cupboard, "And you can call me Jesy, no more of this formal stuff."

Jesy slips back into the walk-in cupboard and comes back out a few minutes later, this time in a more casual outfit, a blue pleated dress with a cropped black blazer on top. "Do you need to get dressed, or are you going to go like that?"

You look down at your frail gown and shrug slightly, your hands still clasped together. "I wouldn't want to bother you Prin- Jesy or delay you of your entry to the village. The earlier we leave the longer we can stay."

Jesy smiles and nods, "Then we shall leave right this moment." She grabs your hands and pulls you down to the foyer where Sir Kingsley had just closed the main entrance.

"Sir Kingsley!" Jesy calls for the guard, "Please take us to the village."

The guard eyes the Princess suspiciously before allowing his look to fall onto you. He raises his brows waiting for your confirmation on the request. You send a nod and the man swiftly turns back around and opens the main entrance again. "Come along Princess." He guides you both over to an open carriage and props the door open allowing you and Jesy to get in.

"I didn't expect to have you wanting to go out today Princess, otherwise I would have had the carriage prepared for your travels." Sir Kingsley apologises bowing his head.

Jesy waves her hand in dismissal, "It's perfectly fine." She smiles a contagious smile which causes the guard to mirror the young girls' expression.

***

The day out was delightful and opened up Jesy's eyes to the outside world properly. She had been able to experience many things that had sent her hurtling back into distant memories of when her father had taken her down. Like the puppy that a vendor was holding made her remember when her father had let her pet the small dog, and even carry it around for the remainder of the evening until it was time to go. She had met your father and had grown quite a liking to him, having stayed at his house for dinner. Lastly, You had shown her around and bought her some fruit from the market until Sir Kingsley had notified you both of the time.

"Thank you! Thank you so much for taking me out Y/n." Jesy yells in excitement, dropping down onto her bed.

You bow towards the girl, "Anything for you Princess." You drop down next to Jesy and she swiftly moves onto her side facing you.

The princess sets a gentle hand on your arm and strokes it with the tip of her fingers. You allow your gaze to fall to her touch. "What are you doing?" You question turning to face her. Jesy carefully pushes herself closer to you.

"You." She breathes out, "You make me feel things that I don't know how to control."

You look at the girl shocked, "Oh."

"I hated you- well disliked you merely two weeks ago and now I think I've fallen for you."

You stare at the girl, unsure of what to say until an unknown ball of confidence comes hurtling straight at you and a desire for the girl has its clutch on your gown and it just pulls you in. Until you are left pulling in the royal figure and her lips are on yours.

The kiss is sensual and almost passionate, one Jesy nor you had ever experienced. Jesy pulls you in closer to her, but instead, you shifted your position so that you were straddling her. You sit back and gaze down at the goddess below you and delve right in and peck her lips.

Carefully you slip the black blazer down the Princesses arms and ghost your lips over her partially exposed neck. Jesy drops her head back slightly, relishing in the feeling of you on top of her. This whole experience right now is new to the young girl, she had not done such an act before. It's a rebellious feeling that swarms the girl's head, it intoxicates her and she is left reeling in for more of that feeling.

You part away from her and slip out of your dress before connecting your lips to hers, your hand cupping her cheek while the other holds you up. Jesy sighs warmly into the kiss, her hands trailing down your bare waist.

"Do... you... want... to... do... this?" You question between each break that Jesy would allow.

"Yes."

And from that moment, a forbidden romance had been formed.

***

You were the first to wake from her slumber, slipping out from under Jesy and headed towards the bathroom- not before slipping on your clothes.

You open the tap and rinse your toothbrush before applying a slick layer of toothpaste. You quickly brush your teeth and rinse your mouth and stand back up only to be met by Jesy standing directly behind you.

A gasp escapes your mouth and you settle your hand over your heart. Jesy laughs at your reaction, taking a step closer towards you, she then rests her hands on your clothed waist. "Goodmorning." She hushes resting her head on your shoulder.

You lean back into the royal figure, "Morning."

Jesy moves her hands so now that her arms are wrapped around your abdomen. "How was last night?" You question and Jesy blushes profusely.

"It was nice."

You trail a finger over Jesy's arm with a smile. "Had you done it with someone else?"

Jesy shakes her head and your smile drops down into a frown. "What!? You should've told me. I would have gone slow."

Jesy giggles burying her head in the crook of your neck, "It's fine."

The two of you stand there for a few more seconds, enjoying the presence of each other when you're ripped apart by a loud bang on the door. Jesy jerks away startled and quickly peaks her head out the door where Ms Lee is stood concerned.

Jesy steps out and closes the door before the staff member could see you. "Ms Lee? Did you need anything?"

"I just came to check up on you. You sounded quite ill last night." Jesy turns red at the older woman's words. "Yes I was, but there's no need to worry, I'm doing perfectly fine now."

Ms Lee nods at Jesy's words but she still holds a face of concern, "Well if you need anything, you know where to find me."

The older woman then leaves and Jesy slips her head back into the bathroom.

"I think we were a bit too loud."

You raise your brows and laugh slightly, "Oh really?"

Jesy rolls her eyes playfully, "Yes. Now come on, we have to go get something to eat."

***

A mere two more weeks had passed and You and Jesy were closer than ever. You had done everything with her, took her out on dates to secluded spots in which you had discovered months before on having to work for the Royals. Taught her how to bake a couple of things when no one was around and eventually You moved into her room with her.

Jesy had deeply loved and enjoyed the last few weeks with you, but as the time comes closing in with her parents' grand arrival, the crashing reality of what she had been doing with you had taken a dark and unsettling turn. For a few days, she had been feeling quite queasy and tried to distance herself away from you, an action made to reduce the pain of your departure from her life. You had started to notice this and eventually had enough of the silence from the girl and got her to open up to you.

Your heart cracked.

"Let's run away," You suggest grabbing onto Jesy's shaking hands. The Princess looks up with her teary eyes, "What?"

"Let's run away." You repeat, "Start our own family. Live a normal life."

Jesy tears her gaze away from you, "What about everyone here? The staff, My mother. I can't just leave them."

You place a hand on her cheek and pull her attention back onto you. "They'll understand."

Jesy shakes her head, "I can't. My whole life is here, I can't just drop it."

You frown, heart sinking, "Then we can make one here."

"Two Queens? That type of thing is unheard of. It will cause chaos, denial."

"We can change that Jes."

Jesy shakes her head, "No we can't. It will forever be a King and Queen. A King will always be the most important. No one would take us seriously if there were to be two Queens ruling."

Jesy moves from out of your grasp, and she doesn't look at you. "I think it's best that you leave. Our affair can no longer continue."

You nod, tears swelling in your eyes while your heart completely breaks. "Understood Her Royal Highness" You curtsy and quickly walk out but stop at the door for a second. "Just know Princess of Avonlea, that if you need an escape, I will be here for you."

Jesy doesn't respond, she stares down at her feet waiting for her room door to close shut. And then the tears come hurling out, her heartaches terribly and her chest feels like it's closing in. But she pushes past the feeling and situates herself in her usual spot by the window, watching down at the newly arrival of the Prince (And her parents) she will soon have to marry talking to one of the staff and you leaving the premises completely and utterly distraught.

The Princess of Avonlea will have to get reaccustomed to her daily routine.

***

Masterlist; Celebrities

#jesy louise nelson #Jesy Nelson x reader

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morioh-killer · 3 years ago

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*slides in* Are matchups still open? If not, enjoy your well-deserved break and ignore everything below.

I'm a 5' 2" (159 cm), pan-demi, enby person (any pronouns). I'm a witch, and have a gothic style. I'm chubby, with short lil' limbs. Long black hair, shaved on one side, with white bangs. I wear thick-rimmed glasses most of the time, but will wear contacts if I'm going out. I'm a fan of the pastel goth look.

INTP; Aries sun, Gemini moon, Capricorn rising. I love to sleep and play video games. In my spare time, I also write, read, create, cook, and bake. I'm a hopeless romantic that will do anything for my friends. I'll sit around and say I'm not competitive, but as soon as someone starts beating me in Mario Party, I say "nevermind," and do them dirty. I suffer with social anxiety, and depression. I suck at asking for, and accepting help, thus, I'm relatively independent, and end up doing a lot of things myself. Above all, I love to experience life, and laugh.

They sureeeee are 💜💜

I match your wiiiiiiith…..

Josuke! Not only because I think y’all are cute together, but because your personality feels so right with his.

He loves your style. He loves all your clothes and aesthetics. He’s a big fashion guy and prepare to match outfits with him. He goes for the bling look to contrast with your gothic aesthetic. He loves to do your hair, braid it, curl it, straighten etc etc. He runs his fingers through it whenever you’re sitting together, he doesn’t think about it.

Teach him about witchcraft. PLEASE. He’s fascinated by it and tries to participate with you, even if he’s just lighting a candle for you. He just wants to help. He will show you books/videos he thinks you’ll like, or ask you if something is true about the craft.

Josuke just wants you to take care of yourself, he’s very intuitive and knows if you’re feeling down. He will do his best to care for you, he will make you laugh and smile until you forget your negative emotions.

#matchups

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the-mandalorian-clone-lover · 4 years ago

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Aces in Spaces Chapter 11

Monday again!

Erica has come over to Roman’s to get ready for dinner, he’s fawning over her, dinner is a little ridiculous, Butcher is a hero, and Roman gets to be a sap again (but more because it’s just been their 7th month anniversary and man can’t help himself)

Tags: @sunshinepascal @rentskenobi @princessxkenobi @agent-450 @maybege @obaby-wan

Reference photo’s are below again (apologies for terrible quality Obi-Wan (my laptop) was being stinky today), enjoy guys :)

Masterlist

(this is literally the only picture I could find of Ewan in purple so Just imagine he has a black button down instead of the striped shirt)

Roman pulled Erica close before lifting her slightly to sit on the counter, her floor length long sleeve wrap dress is a deep velvet purple, the neckline shy of plunging and the wrap of the skirt giving her a knee-high slit. He is dressed to match her, purple suit accented by the black button up that hides behind his blazer, black sunglasses accompanying the grey pocket scarf that ties in with the sandals he’s carrying for her. Flat footed she stood about an inch taller than he, but he always relished the height difference (as was evidenced by the four-inch heels he was now buckling onto her feet). As he fastened them Erica smiled softly and began brushing her fingers through his auburn hair, he was always tender with her and she couldn’t begin to thank him enough. As if he knew her thoughts, he spoke softly into the room.

“I was thinking we could finish painting the purple and grey in the studio this week. Like your flag.” It was his six-month anniversary present to her, he knows she loves training with her weapons of choice still (even if she has her own guard team now) and he wanted her to have her own space. If that keeps her out of the community training area, that’s just an extra bonus.

The soft smile on her face grows fond, “does the great Roman Stanton have time to watch paint dry?” it’s said almost teasingly.

“With the love of his life?” His eyes meet hers as the endearment passes his lips “there’s nothing I’d rather do.” It is said so matter-of-factly that a full smile breaks across her face.

“People might talk, finding out this isn’t for sex”

“You know,” he begins and his face is full of an exasperation that shows just how many times he’s had the conversation, as his hands find her waist and he stands between her legs, “You can love someone, without having sex.”

She laughs a little at this, albeit softly, and cradles his face in her hands. “My Roman” she brings their foreheads together and for a moment they breathe one another in, basking in the stillness. It’s soft, undeniably so, only interrupted by the furrowing of Roman’s brow.

“Did someone say something?” He pulls back before continuing, hands finding her shoulders as hers slip to his chest. “It’s been a moment since I told the last batch you were asexual; do you want me to mention it?” Despite the calmness his tone brings her, Erica knows ‘mentioning it’ will involve more than just talking (and it certainly won’t be done in passing, her mind briefly pulls up the memory of the time Roman made a 47 page slideshow for Butch about what being Ace meant, how dragons were the mascot, and how that pertained to him. As the main bodyguard for them both Butch had appreciated the education, contrary to what his immense size and intimidating presence suggested he was truly kind). Her smile broadens again, “No, I’m just teasing you, I’d love to finish the studio”.

Romans face splits with a grin that Erica is convinced rivals sunshine with its warmth and brings his hand up to suspend itself by the side of her face. She’s always loved this about him; he never falters at asking before he touches her, some days she doesn’t need him to ask, but knowing he always will, heals her on the days when she does. She leans into him then, closing her eyes and relishing the contact.

“May I please kiss you?”

Its spoken so softly Erica isn’t even sure she heard it, but she opens her eyes to find his and the pleading of his own gives him away. “softly” she conditions in a whisper. He gives her the briefest of nods before leaning in, giving her the time to change her mind if she desires and then she closes the space, pressing her lips to his lightly and gripping at the lapels of his suit jacket. She doesn’t deepen it, and he follows her lead, but she still puts love into the kiss, gently tugging him closer. He pulls away first, thumb stroking her cheekbone from its place on her face. “Well my Evenstar, shall we go?” She buries her face in his coat at the reference to her favorite fantasy world, “Yes Mr. Stanton,” she drags her eyes up to him with another soft smile “we shall”. His hand is extended to help her down (though it isn’t far at all with the addition of the heels) and the smile he directs up at her resembles the cat who got the canary, as he tucks the same hand around his arm. “The world awaits”.

*Dinner that evening*

The dinner goes well, Erica and Roman separating (he’d sent Butch with her for his own peace of mind) as the night went on, it turned out the man he’d been meeting with had several companions and Erica was willing to make a few friends if the situation lent itself to such a thing. She’d come back after a while, (maybe a little less care-free than before Roman thought but he hadn’t been able to ask at the time) saying that Butch had had something to take care of and would be re-joining them both soon.

It isn’t until Butcher is walking with them to the car, Erica on his right arm and Roman on hers, that anyone mentions the situation, Butcher commenting softly

“She kept asking me who I’d like to,” he pauses and Erica trains her gaze on his face “do, things, with” he finishes lamely; gaze resolutely focused ahead of him, only breaking to scan for threats. Erica tilts her head in silent question. “Adult things.” He tacks on and confusion flits across her face before he adds “not taxes, the other stuff”. Her posture straightens before she breathes a noncommittal “ah”.

Roman tilts his head and looks to her in question.

“One of the girls was, very thrilled, with Butch, she couldn’t have held a candle to Hannah. I didn’t much care for any of them so I rejoined you.” She says by way of explanation.

Butcher scoffs, “No one could hold a candle to my Hannah. All due respect Ms. Erica” He says it with a smile sent her way and his hand coming to rest over hers where it rests on his arm.

Butcher plunges ahead as they exit the venue, “She took a real shine to you though, I kept trying to explain you wouldn’t be into it, but she wasn’t really getting the hint. I told her you were ace, she said that meant you hadn’t been with the right people. That she could fix it for you”. For a brief moment Erica almost wants to turn back to ensure Butcher hasn’t left the poor thing tied up somewhere as she is absolutely certain Romans slideshow did cover this response (if she didn’t remember after his insistence that she proofread it for him the tension she can feel from him is indication enough). But once again Butcher carries on without thought and finishes with a flourish as he opens the car door.

“She got a real nice cab home, courtesy of the local police department.”

Erica stops halfway in the car in shock, still holding roman’s forearm in preparation to slide in “Butcher, you had her arrested?”

He shrugs, “Well, I couldn’t take her into the men’s room for a talk myself could I?” he says it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, as if arguing in her defense during dinner hadn’t been kind enough, as if leaving the woman any chance to say such things to her face would have been absurd. She hugs him then, throws both arms around his neck and pulls him down despite her own impressive height.

“Thank you.”

It’s quiet, barely a whisper, and yet she hopes he knows it means the world to her. As she pulls away, she tells him so, and slides into the car before the emotion can make itself known. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Roman shake Butcher’s hand and she hopes to God it’s over a raise (it’s not as if she wants to buy respect but she’s certain whatever they pay him isn’t enough with the defense he just gave for her). Roman slides in after and Butcher closes the door before moving to sit with the driver, she almost moves to ask Roman to have Butcher keep them company but pauses when she meets his eyes, instantly seeing somethings on his mind. Her eyes soften, “Don’t be upset for me, he handled it better than I could have ever dreamed.”

Roman sighs, “You know me so well love.”

“I do.” It’s punctuated by her bringing their foreheads together, placing a quick peck on his lips before leaning back again. He chuckles, rubbing his thumb along the side of her face gently, reaching toward the dangling earrings she’s wearing before brushing his fingers along the length of her earlobe, down to the cartilage to cradle her bling.

“These are lovely.” His eyes find hers with a knowing smile, they had been her 7th month anniversary present and the reason she’d gotten ready at the pent-house, he’s pretty sure he’d be a failure if he didn’t mention them. “They pale in comparison to the woman wearing them, but they are beautiful.”

She blushes then, looking down before tracing her fingers up the line of his lapel, up his throat lightly before tapping the end of his nose with her finger. Eyes following the trail her fingers blaze, they finally meet his.

“The man who bought them had great taste.” She declares and Roman smiles wider,

“It would seem his taste in lovers is even better.”

Now she’s looking down and laughing, crinkling her nose because she’s trying to stifle the sound, its his favorite expression out of all the ones he’s seen her make so far. She doesn’t do it as often as she laughs, only when she’s found something exceptionally funny, or when she’s being tickled, it only happens when she’s become so full of joy that she forgets to school her expression into something conventionally ‘pretty’

As she looks up she says, still giggling, “You’ve already won me Roman, you don’t have to woo me too.”

He makes a conscious effort to look scandalized.

“My dear, I would simply waste away were I forced to forgo my endeavor to love you better than Shakespeare could write or Da Vinci could paint. I must be nothing less than a master at my craft lest I fall into the pit of despair that is the thought of you needing another. I must never lax, disregarding the passing of time. For as long as you’ll have me, I’ll love you.” The culmination of his declaration consists of him bringing her hand to his lips, holding eye contact as he presses his lips to the back of it softly. He had begun in grandiose, but he’d barely spoken a few words before becoming fully aware of his own sincerity and embracing it wholeheartedly. She’s smiling now, eyes turned soft and accepting of his affection.

“Then I’ll consent to be loved.”

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

#asexual #ewan mcgregor #aces in spaces #ace character #original characters #original fic #original story #new chapter #i love this one so much #like theyre all just so soft for each other #and Roman is such a sap #and Butch is always ready to throw hands for Erica #I just love it

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