#i like the blonde being recessive bc i think it makes it feel more like Fate for fjorm to come at the time she did | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

junghelioseok · 4 years

Text

clandestine. | 02

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 7k [2/6]

notes: looks like it’s a writing/editing kinda day, folks! hope you enjoy this installment, and let me know what you think!

warnings: jk’s massive noona kink: a recurring yet warranted warning, jeon jungkook is a goddamn tease, smuuuut, oral (f receiving), jk’s got a big dick whoOPS, minimally edited bc i’m feeling lazy

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

Morning brings with it bright sunshine and fresh horror as the events of the previous evening come rushing back. You aren’t sure you’ll ever be able to look Jeon Jungkook in the eye again—or at least, not without being reminded of the way he’d plagued every single one of your dreams with devilish eyes and even more devilish fingers. Groaning, you scrub at your temples, as if that will help dispel the memories. After a few fruitless moments, you crawl out of bed and head for the bathroom, intent on washing everything away with a good, cold shower.

Try as you might, though, you simply cannot avoid your dark-haired neighbor. You’re in the kitchen sipping at your second coffee of the day and debating what you want for lunch when there’s a knock on the front door—a familiar rhythm that has your heart stuttering. “It’s open!” Jimin yells from the living room, and a moment later, the devil himself strolls in, wearing a plain black t-shirt with ripped jeans and well-worn Timberlands. Vaguely, you wonder when he made the switch from white tees to black, but your musings are cut short when he spots you in the kitchen, an impish grin settling across his face.

“Hey, Noona.”

“Hey.” You thank whatever god may be out there that your voice is steady. “Jimin’s in the living room.”

Jungkook tilts his head coyly and takes a step forward. “What makes you think I’m here for Jimin? Maybe I came to see you.”

Anxiously, you swallow down the memories of his warm hands that are trying to resurface. “I highly doubt that.”

“Really?” Jungkook takes another step forward and plucks the coffee mug from your hands. “What if I came over to finish what I started last night?”

Heat floods across your face. “That—that was… I mean, I don’t—”

“You don’t what?” Jungkook asks, raising a brow. “Want me? Because I’m pretty sure that’s a lie, Noona.” Quietly, he closes the last bit of distance between you, and when he speaks again you can feel his warm breath fanning across your cheeks with every word. “You see, I think you want me. Just as much as I want you. Am I wrong?”

“Jungkook, we—”

“Dude, what’s taking you so long?” Jimin’s head suddenly pops around the doorway, and you nearly jump out of your skin in your effort to put some distance between you and your dark-haired neighbor. “I’m about to start the game without you.”

“Just wanted to grab some coffee and say hi to {Name},” Jungkook replies, raising your half-empty mug to his lips and taking a sip. “Did you want to join us, Noona? It’d be fun to watch you kick Jimin’s ass at Mario Kart again.”

You swallow, hard. “I can’t. I’ve got homework to do.” Not strictly true, perhaps, but you’d been planning on looking over the details of your internship again at some point, and now seems as good a time as any. “Sorry,” you add quickly, seeing Jungkook’s disbelieving expression.

“Summer homework? Gross.” Jimin pulls a face. “You’re still coming to Tae’s party though, right?”

You nod, unwillingly catching Jungkook’s eye again. He’s still sipping at your coffee, and you don’t miss the flagrant wink he shoots you over the rim of the cup. “See you later then, Noona,” he says, his voice practically a purr.

“Right,” you respond dully, your heart skipping a beat at the dark promise in his stare. “Later.”

Jimin and Jungkook disappear down the hall, but you remain rooted in the kitchen for a few minutes longer, listening as the music of whatever video game they’ve decided on starts playing from the living room. Heaving a sigh, you fetch a new mug from the cupboard and pour yourself some more coffee, grabbing an apple and a bag of chips as well. Taking everything up to your bedroom, you pull out your laptop and make yourself comfortable on your bed, plugging in some headphones to drown out the noise from downstairs. With any luck, you won’t have to see Jungkook again until you have to leave for Taehyung’s party, and you’re pretty sure that it’ll be easy to avoid him once you’re there.

In fact, you’re certain of it.

So with that thought in mind, you settle down with your coffee and open up Netflix, sinking into the pillows and pushing your dark-haired neighbor into the deepest recesses of your mind. It isn’t until your phone starts vibrating insistently against your thigh that you are startled out of your binge-watching, the screen lit up with two new notifications. Surprised, you realize that hours have passed, the sky outside your window deepening into the hazy blue of nighttime.

[6:02pm] Jungkook: you hungry, noona?

[6:02pm] Jungkook: for pizza, i mean. we ordered dinner

[6:03pm] Jungkook: but i’ll be your dessert if you want me ;)

You drop your phone as if burned, his final message playing over and over in your mind. It takes you a full minute to gather your wits again, stowing your device in your pocket without responding and carefully picking your way downstairs. Already, you can smell the cheesy grease, your stomach growling in anticipation.

Just grab the pizza and go, you think to yourself, formulating your escape plan and double-checking it for any holes. Dine and dash.

You’re walking past the foyer when there’s suddenly a knock on the front door. Curiously, you answer it, swinging it open to see a familiar grinning face standing on the doorstep. Lee Taemin is a good friend of Jimin’s, and your brother pokes his head out from the kitchen at the sound of your greeting, clearly expecting the new guest.

“Taemin! Get in here and have some pizza,” Jimin says, his mouth full. “You too, Noona. We got plenty.”

Instead of immediately heading for the food, Taemin wraps you in a hug that has you wheezing for air. “Long time no see, huh? How’ve you been?”

You squirm in his tight embrace, raised to your tiptoes. “Put me down, you heathen. I’m fine right now, but I won’t be if you suffocate me.”

Taemin chortles good-naturedly and releases his grip, ruffling your hair. “Good to see you too, {Name}. Honestly, it hasn’t been the same around here without you. How long are you back for? The whole summer?”

You shake your head. “Just a couple weeks. I’ve got to get back for an internship.”

“Already a hotshot, huh?” Taemin grins. “What are you going to be doing?”

The topic of your summer job is a welcome distraction from the way Jungkook’s dark gaze trails after you as you tread into the kitchen alongside Taemin, slapping two slices of pizza onto a plate and glancing around for a napkin. You can feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull, prickling your skin with electricity, but continue your conversation with Taemin as if nothing is amiss.

“You gonna sit down or what?” Taemin gives you a quizzical glance as he pulls a chair out from the table, joining Jimin and Jungkook who are already seated. You do your best to ignore the way Jungkook’s jaw flexes with every chew, somehow managing to look infuriatingly handsome despite the mouth full of dough and pizza grease staining his chin.

“I—” Your mind whirs, searching for the excuse you had planned. “—I still have some work to do. Reading and whatnot.”

“Nerd,” Jimin snorts.

Taemin shrugs. “Okay, then. Suit yourself, I guess.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. But you feel his eyes burning into your skin as you head back upstairs, and it isn’t until you are safely back in your bedroom, sagging against the closed door, that you can finally breathe properly again.

///

You end up departing for the party nearly twenty minutes after the official start time of eight o’clock, caving to Jimin’s insistence on being fashionably late. Personally, you think he just wanted the extra time to work on his hair—making sure every strand is perfectly, effortlessly tousled—and call him out on it as he locks the front door behind you.

“I didn’t spend that long on my hair,” Jimin sniffs defensively. “Besides, you’re the one who needed to run back in and get your wallet. What do you even need your wallet for? We’re walking like, four blocks.”

“Better safe than sorry,” you retort. “What if I get murdered and they need to identify my body? What if I get mugged? You never know!”

Taemin falls into step beside you. “What if we need to tip a stripper?” he chimes in.

You nod and raise your hand for a high-five without taking your eyes off your brother. “Exactly! You have to tip your sex workers, Chim!”

Jimin waggles a suggestive eyebrow. “I think I’d rather give them a different ti—”

You push him off the sidewalk before he can finish speaking, pulling a face as he stumbles into the street in a fit of laughter. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, you perv!”

The remainder of the short walk to Taehyung’s house passes uneventfully. Jimin doesn’t bother knocking, throwing open the door like he owns the place, and you trail after him with Taemin and Jungkook on your heels. Immediately, you’re assailed by a cacophonous sea of conversation and thumping music, people milling around in the dimly lit interior.

“There you are!” The voice comes from your left, and you barely have time to register the speaker’s face before she’s gasping and engulfing you in a hug. “{Name}, you made it! Hi!”

You laugh, squeezing her back. “Hi, Chaeyoung. It’s good to see you. Sorry I didn’t catch you at graduation.”

“Oh please,” she says, waving you off. “We have all the time in the world to catch up now. Let’s get you away from these boys and find you a drink, shall we?” Flipping a lock of strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder, she loops her arm through yours and begins steering you toward the kitchen. “So what are you in the mood for? The beer’s shit, so I’d stay away from anything in the cooler, but everything else is actually drinkable.”

“Shocking,” you remark, peering at the mess of bottles and cups lining the kitchen counter. There’s a massive bowl of a horrifyingly neon green concoction as well, and you take one whiff before backing away again, nose wrinkling in disgust. “I see Tae’s still making punch.”

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” Chaeyoung advises. “He’s somehow managed to make it twice as sugary and three times more alcoholic than last year’s. Pretty sure it’s worse than moonshine at this point.”

You grin and locate an empty cup, raising it in her direction. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Chaeyoung refills her own drink, and you settle on a simple blend of cranberry juice and vodka. Together, you head back in the direction of the living room, where Jisoo and Lisa are chattering away on a couch in the corner. They look up at your arrival, greeting you with smiles and hugs, and quickly usher you into a seat beside them.

“So,” Jisoo begins, leaning forward. “How’s college?”

“Tell us everything,” Lisa adds, propping her chin in her palm. “Is it nice living away from home?”

Jisoo waggles her brows. “Forget that. Have you met any guys?”

Unbidden, Jungkook springs to the forefront of your mind, dark eyes staring at you from beneath equally dark hair as he leans down, down, down—

“Nope!” you blurt before your thoughts can progress any further. “I mean, I share a suite with a couple guys, but that doesn’t count.”

“Are they cute?” Lisa prods.

“They must be more mature than these high school boys,” Chaeyoung sighs.

“Hardly,” you snort. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

The gossip continues. More people arrive as the night wears on, the living room filling up with dancing bodies. A few girls you don’t know join in your conversation, perching on armrests and ottomans and the carpeted floor as a last resort. Across the hall in the dining room, you spot Taemin setting up a table for beer pong, a triumphant shout going up when Taehyung procures an unopened package of balls from somewhere in the hall closet.

“This is gonna be tournament style, got it?” he announces as he tears the package open. “Winner goes up against the undefeated champs—Jungkook and Yugyeom!”

Even from your comfy seat on the couch, you can see the arrogant twist of Jungkook’s mouth as he leans over to give Yugyeom a high-five. You can’t tear your eyes away from the way he tongues his cheek, lounging back into a chair to watch the first round of the game. Jimin steps forward alongside Taehyung, and you watch as your brother scrutinizes the pyramid of cups, poised to make a throw that lifts his shirt just enough to expose a flash of his admittedly toned abdomen.

“He wore that shirt on purpose,” Jisoo accuses, and you huff out a sound that’s more snort than laugh.

“Please, it’s just the only shirt he owns that isn’t dirty. Trust me.”

“I don’t even care,” another girl you don’t know the name of pipes up. “I’d still let him blow my back out.”

You grimace. “And on that note, I suddenly need another drink,” you announce, to giggles. Wrenching out of your cozy seat between Jisoo and Lisa, you wave your near empty cup in farewell and make your way toward the kitchen, carefully skirting around the dancers and beer pong spectators spilling out into the hallway.

The kitchen is deserted when you walk in, everyone having flocked to the dining room to watch the beer pong tournament. Humming along to the music, you open up the fridge and survey its contents, hoping to find something decent. Curiously, you pick your way past a few cans before turning a dark glass bottle around to read the label.

“Are you avoiding me, Noona?”

The voice comes from behind you, deep and sinfully resonant, and you don’t even have to turn around to know that he’s standing just inches away. His breath ruffles through the hair at the nape of your neck, sending gooseflesh prickling across your skin, and when strong hands curl gently around your hips you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“I missed you, y’know,” he continues, his mouth finding its way to your ear and nipping lightly at the lobe. “You didn’t talk to me all day, even though I was right there in your house. Ran like a scared little rabbit when you saw me in the kitchen, didn’t you?” Softly, his lips ghost along the column of your throat, pressing a kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder. “So, now what? Are you gonna run from me again?”

You don’t think you could if you tried. Your feet are rooted firmly in place, your entire body frozen as you await whatever he’ll do next. And when he urges you to spin around and face him, you obey immediately, your hands coming up to splay against his chest as he presses even closer and rewards your compliance with a kiss.

“Jungkook,” you breathe against his parted lips. “Jungkook, god.”

Slowly, he trails down your neck, leaving soft nips in his wake. “Yes, Noona?”

“We can’t,” you whisper, even as your head falls back to allow him more access to your clavicle. “Jungkook, we can’t do this.”

Your companion raises his head then, his dark gaze meeting yours. “Tell me to stop,” he says quietly. His thumbs dip beneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing circles into the soft skin of your waist, and you inhale sharply at the feeling. “If that’s what you want, Noona, just tell me to stop and I will. I promise.”

He’s palming along your hips now. The warmth of his palms seeps into your body, rendering it increasingly difficult to concentrate. His mouth returns to your neck as he awaits your answer, and you don’t miss the way his lips curl into a smirk against the delicate skin of your collarbone when you hesitate a moment too long.

“Well, Noona?”

Fuck it. Your arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between your bodies. “Jungkook, kiss me,” you breathe, throwing all remaining remnants of caution to the wind.

Jungkook straightens up to his full height, his smirk widening. “Anything for you, princess,” he remarks before leaning down, winding one hand in your hair and finding purchase in the curve of your waist with the other. The newfound pet name ignites a tendril of heat in the pit of your belly, and when Jungkook finally closes the gap between your lips, you release a breathy moan that he eagerly swallows. The hand in your hair tightens its grip to pull you even closer, tongues and teeth clashing as he deepens the kiss.

It’s only when the need for air becomes critical that you break away from him with a gasp, your lungs aching. Jungkook isn’t faring much better, his chest heaving beneath the thin white material of his t-shirt. He releases his grip on your hair, his thumb grazing across your cheek gently instead, and when he leans in to plant another kiss on your mouth, you exhale shakily. “God, Jungkook.”

His arm tightens around your waist. “What do you need, princess?” he asks, and you can’t deny your delight at his continued use of the nickname. His teeth find the lobe of your ear again, and you release a breathy moan as he delivers a particularly sharp nip to the soft flesh before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive spot just below it. “Tell me. Tell me, and I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you anything you want.”

You slide your hands along his broad shoulders and up to his nape, brushing the silver hoops in his ears before tangling your fingers in his silky hair. “You’re teasing me.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue and pulls away, your arms falling uselessly to your sides as he takes a step back. “I just need to hear you say it, Noona,” he chides, his voice leaving no room for disobedience. “I need to hear you say that you want this. That you want me.”

A shiver dances up your spine, and you aren’t sure whether it’s due to his wicked lilt or the sudden absence of his body heat. “I want you,” you whisper, reaching out to touch him. “Jungkook, please.”

The smirk that spreads across his face is absolutely devastating. “Then come with me,” he commands softly, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together. You leave behind the thumping music and the loud chatter of the party, allowing Jungkook to pull you into one of several rooms lining the hallway and squeaking when he shuts the door and immediately pins you against it. His mouth slants across yours, hot and urgent, and you moan into the kiss as your hands fly up to grip his shoulders.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” Jungkook breathes, pulling away just enough to whisper the words against your lips. “Fuck, princess, look at this tiny little skirt you’re wearing. You’ve been killing me all night, you know that?”

He punctuates the words with another kiss, nipping harshly at your bottom lip. His hands slide down to the curve of your ass, and you gasp when he scoops you up effortlessly. “Legs around my waist,” he orders, readjusting his grip as he begins walking you further into the room.

It’s the laundry room, you realize upon closer inspection. Jungkook’s busy mouthing at your neck, but he breaks away with a smirk when he finally reaches his destination, plopping you down atop the cool metal of the washing machine. “Shame there’s nothing in here,” he remarks, kicking the side softly. “I really wanna fuck you with this thing running one day. But for now…” His smirk widens, his hands settling on your knees. “This’ll do.”

In an instant, he’s pushed up your skirt and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down and off your legs. He drops to his knees, smoothing his hands along your inner thighs, and your cheeks flush when he urges you to spread them further. “Jungkook—“ you mumble, thoroughly embarrassed as he stares reverently at your exposed core, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “Quit staring at me like that.”

“I can’t help it,” he murmurs, leaning in and pressing a soft trail of kisses along your thigh. “You’re so beautiful, Noona.”

“You…”

You trail off, unsure of what to say. What do you say when your little brother’s best friend is staring at you like you’re a desert oasis and he’s been wandering, dehydrated, for days? What do you say when the scrawny neighbor kid you’d grown up with is caressing every inch of your legs, soothing the soft skin with his fingers and lips?

What do you say when you realize, once and for all, that Jeon Jungkook is undoubtedly—unabashedly—a man now?

You swallow, hard. Jungkook is nearing your core now, his hair tickling your thighs, and you gasp when he slides a finger up your slit experimentally. “You’re so wet,” he breathes. “So wet, and so—” He touches the pad of his finger to his tongue, grinning up at you as he laps up your essence. “—delicious. Fuck. You’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

And then he leans forward, boldly licking a stripe up the length of your entrance. Strong arms wind around your legs to hold you open, and when he shoves his face even deeper, his nose brushing against your clit, you let out a strangled whimper. “Fuck, Jungkook—”

The sound of his name draws a pleased hum from the young man nestled between your thighs, rumbling through his chest and straight to your core. Your walls clench, but Jungkook stubbornly refuses to dip his tongue inside. Instead, he teases at your folds, spreading them apart with two fingers and licking ardently at your leaking juices before kissing a short trail up to your clit. “Can you cum like this?” he asks curiously, thumbing across the sensitive bundle of nerves.

His answer comes in the form of a breathy gasp, your hips jerking upward to seek out more friction. Jungkook chuckles and obliges your silent request, dark eyes flickering up to meet yours as he begins rubbing slow circles around your bud. “Guess that’s a yes,” he murmurs, pressing yet another kiss to your thigh. His gaze remains locked on yours as he rubs a little harder, dragging your juices up from your slit and digging in deep until you are moaning aloud, your hands coming down to fist in his silky hair.

“I-I’m close,” you keen. “Please, Jungkook, please.”

Jungkook hums and leans back. At the same time, he slides two fingers inside you, curling them upward, and the sudden surge of fullness is more than enough to tip you over the edge. His name escapes your lips in a garbled moan, your walls spasming around his hand as he continues teasing your clit, drawing out your orgasm until you finally whine from oversensitivity and bat him away. Obediently, he withdraws, rising to his feet so that he towers over you once more.

“Holy fuck,” he murmurs, staring down at you with an expression caught somewhere between awestruck wonder and unbridled hunger. “You’re so pretty when you cum. So pretty and perfect and—” He swallows, his throat bobbing harshly. “God, I need to fuck you. Can I fuck you now, Noona? Will you let me stretch open this pretty little pussy and fill you up with my cock?”

Your breath hitches. Never in a million years could you have imagined that your brother’s mild-mannered best friend could have such a filthy mouth, but you cannot hide the way your core clenches at his words. Slowly, you raise your arms, winding them around his neck to pull him closer. “Yes,” you whisper, brushing your lips against his. “Fuck me, Jungkook.”

A groan escapes him, deep and cavernous in a way that sends heat spiking through your veins. Jungkook doesn’t waste any time, his mouth chasing after yours as one hand finds the back of your head, pulling you into a bruising kiss. The other slides down to the waistband of his jeans, freeing himself from the confines of the denim. He doesn’t break the kiss for a moment, even as he grabs your hips and pulls you closer. It isn’t until you’re seated on the very edge of the washing machine, wrapping your legs around his waist to steady yourself, that you pull away and let your gaze fall to his newly revealed cock. Jungkook is long and deliciously thick, and you let out a shaky breath when you see the pearlescent white drops beading at the swollen tip.

“Oh my god.” The words bubble up automatically, escaping you in an airy whisper. “How are you so big?”

Jungkook huffs out a hoarse chuckle, amusement glittering in his dark irises. “Think you can take all of me, princess?”

Your gaze falls down to his length again, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “Put on a condom, and let’s find out.”

Jungkook grins and produces a little foil wrapper from somewhere in his back pocket, tearing into it with his teeth. You help him roll the condom over his cock, and as soon as it’s in place, he’s lining himself up and pushing inside you. A deep groan escapes him as he parts your walls inch by torturous inch, and you moan as your pussy is stretched to its limit, molding to his shape and sheer size. By the time he bottoms out, he’s almost prodding at your cervix, and you grab breathlessly at his bicep.

“I—I need a minute,” you gasp, your body spasming around him as you fight to adjust to the surge of fullness.

“Me too,” Jungkook rasps, his voice strained. His eyes flutter shut as he inhales deeply through his nose, cursing again when you clench around him unconsciously. “Fuck. You’re so tight.”

For a few moments, there’s only the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing, his head falling forward to rest on your shoulder. His breath is hot against the exposed skin of your clavicle, and you sigh when you feel him mouthing at the delicate skin, nipping softly before soothing across it with his tongue.

At the sound, Jungkook raises his head, dark eyes meeting yours before dropping down to where the two of you are joined. “God, you look so good like this,” he murmurs, licking his lips. “So pretty, stuffed full of my cock.”

You clench around him again—this time more purposefully. Jungkook’s mouth falls open, a silent question on the tip of his tongue, and you answer it with a deliberate roll of your hips, wordlessly encouraging him to move. Gingerly, he obeys, retreating until only the head of his erection remains inside you. His hand drops down to your clit, and you keen out his name when he surges forward at the same time he flicks his thumb across the sensitive nub. Pleasure licks at your spine, replacing the discomfort. Jungkook lets out a pleased hum.

Slowly, he works up a rhythm, keeping his thrusts shallow as he begins rubbing circles around your clit again. With his other hand, he slides the straps of your top down your shoulders, tugging the bodice down just enough to free your breasts. Your nipples harden at the exposure, and a moan escapes you when he immediately takes one between his fingers, rolling and pinching at the peak. The additional stimulation, paired with the heavy drag of his cock along your walls and his insistent thumb on your clit, has you teetering dangerously close to the edge, your tummy tensing.

“Jungkook—” you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. He grunts in response and picks up the pace, rolling even more fervently up into your clenching heat, and you gasp when a particularly hard thrust sends you scooting backward atop the washing machine. “Fuck! I’m close, Jungkook.”

“Me too,” he grits out. “Come on, princess, cum for me. I know you can do it, just let go for me one more time—”

And with one final flick of his wrist and a thrust that’s so deep you can practically feel him in the back of your throat, you come completely undone, spasming wildly around his cock. It all proves too much for Jungkook, who’s groaning right alongside you as he reaches his high, spilling into the condom. He chants your name like a prayer as his hips gradually still, and his lips seek out yours almost instinctively as his cock softens inside you. The kiss is lazy and languid, contentment settling in your veins. Jungkook wraps you up in a warm embrace, his tongue dipping inside your mouth to explore.

It isn’t until a loud cheer rises up from the front of the house that you snap out of your blissful haze. “We should get back to the party,” you mumble into the kiss, pushing against Jungkook’s chest when he only pulls you closer. “Jungkook, come on. People are gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”

“You know what else will make people suspicious? You, coming out like that.” He gestures at the skirt hiked up around your waist, a slow smirk playing at his lips as he gives you a once-over, his gaze lingering on the wet sheen streaking your inner thighs. “As much as I’m enjoying the view.”

You swat his arm. “Stop that!”

Jungkook snickers and bends down to pick up your discarded panties, swinging them around his index finger. “Stop what?”

“Oh my god, Jungkook.”

Cackling, he returns the lacy undergarment to you, watching as you pull the material up your legs. You adjust your shirt while he disposes of his condom, and when you hop off the washing machine, he offers you a hand that you gratefully accept, gripping his arm as you steady yourself on shaky legs.

“You should leave first,” you tell him, smoothing out the wrinkles in his t-shirt and relishing the way his muscles twitch beneath your fingertips. “It’ll look weird if we leave together, and I need to pee, anyway.”

Jungkook grins and catches your wrists, swooping down to plant a quick kiss on your mouth. “As you wish,” he says, offering you a playful wink.

Then he’s straightening back up to his full height, checking his pockets and running a hand through his mussed hair. You watch as he walks over to the door, putting his ear against it for a few seconds before determining that the coast is clear and slipping out into the hallway. As the door clicks shut behind him, you hear someone—you’re pretty sure it’s a drunk Yugyeom—greet him with a resounding clap on the back. “Dude, where have you been all night? We’re getting our asses handed to us. Minho and Taemin are winning.”

“Sorry, man,” Jungkook half-shouts, and you realize that he’s making sure you can hear him. “Come on. Let’s go get that crown.”

Leaning against the door, you listen as their voices recede down the hallway. You count to five, and then to ten when your thumping heart refuses to slow. At nineteen, it finally calms down—enough that you feel comfortable leaving the laundry room and slipping into the bathroom to clean yourself up.

There’s a massive crowd gathered in the dining room by the time you rejoin the party, and you easily slip unnoticed into the mass of people eagerly watching the final round of the beer pong tournament. Jungkook stands at the far end of the table beside Yugyeom, poised to throw.

He catches your eye at the same time he releases the ball with a flick of his wrist, a knowing smirk settling on his face as triumphant cheers break out all around you.

///

It’s well after midnight by the time the party begins to wind down. Chaeyoung and Lisa are nowhere to be found, and several other girls are lingering near the front door saying their goodbyes before heading out. You find yourself seated on the couch between Jimin and Minho, watching as the latter helps clean up by hurling beer cans at the wastebasket on the other end of the room.

“Man, no wonder you suck at pong.” Jungkook walks into the room and plops down on an end table, a faded cardboard Burger King crown sitting rakishly on his head. “Want me to show you how the champs do it?”

Minho snorts. “Fuck off, man, you barely won that second game. Besides, we totally would’ve won if Taemin hadn’t spent half the time staring at Lisa’s tits.”

Taemin, who’s perched on a corner of the coffee table, raises his hands innocently. “Hey, don’t look at me. I scored most of the points that round.”

Minho huffs irritably and tosses another can at the wastebasket, cursing when it bounces off the rim. Taehyung wanders in and picks it up, throwing it back at Minho before squeezing into the miniscule amount of space between you and Jimin on the couch.

“Jesus, Tae,” you grunt, shifting to give him more room. The movement tilts you toward Minho, smushing you against his side, and he shoots you a playful grin and a wink.

“Cozy?”

“Cozy,” you confirm with a laugh.

“Good,” he says, freeing his arm and throwing it across the back of the couch to give you a little more space. “It’s nice having you around again, Noona.”

Jungkook’s head whirls around so quickly you fear he might have given himself whiplash. His stare zeroes in on Minho’s arm, eyes narrowing at the proximity, but the other boy remains blissfully unaware as he leans back against the couch cushions. Subtly, you lean forward, trying to put some distance between your bodies.

“It’s nice to be back,” you tell him. “It feels like I missed so much, but at the same time, it’s like nothing’s changed.”

“Choi’s aim sure hasn’t changed,” Yugyeom remarks from the doorway with a handful of empty beer bottles. “Still can’t land a shot, even after all these years.” Raising a bottle, he hefts it toward the wastebasket, smirking in satisfaction when it sinks perfectly inside the can.

“And not just with pong,” Taemin goads. “How did things go with Sana again?”

Minho rolls his eyes. “Like you’re one to talk. Besides, we’d all probably stand a better chance if Jeon over there would leave some girls for the rest of us.”

“You’re just jealous because Sana likes him better than she likes you,” Taehyung says with a snicker. “Yo, Jeon! Didn’t you guys make it to third base at Jackson’s party?”

Your stomach sinks as all eyes in the room turn to Jungkook, whose eyes go wide at the sudden attention. “What?”

“Sa. Na,” Taehyung repeats, emphasizing each syllable. “Hottest girl in our year? Third base at Jackson’s? Or are you having a hard time remembering since you wound up leaving with Jihyo?”

Yugyeom chortles as he plops down onto the carpeted floor. “Fuck, man, I forgot about that. Jesus. Just last year you were still shitting yourself at the thought of talking to a girl. Who knew you secretly had so much game?”

The room is beginning to feel stifling. Every breath you take feels like you’re inhaling ash, like a volcano that has lain dormant for ages has suddenly and without warning erupted inside your chest.

He’s playing you. And even worse, it seems that this is a game he’s played before—many times, if his friends are to be believed. Your stomach turns at the thought.

From his perch on the end table, Jungkook scoffs out a stilted, staccato note. “Right. I guess any nonzero number would seem high to you guys, huh?”

Loud jeers break out from the surrounding boys, and you do your best to melt back into the couch cushions. The way you’re squished between Taehyung and Minho makes it impossible for you to find any leverage to stand, so you settle for leaning your head back and staring at the stucco ceiling, willing your heartbeat to slow. Gradually, the noise of the party fades into the background, as do the voices of your brother and his friends. It’s only when Jimin pokes your shoulder, singsonging your name, that you break out of your trance.

“What? Huh?”

“The lake house,” Jimin says, looking at you as if you’re stupid. “You down?”

You can only blink at him, repeating the words back to him dumbly. “The lake house?”

Jimin raises a brow. “Yeah, the lake house. You know, our lake house? The one we drive up to every summer? Where we’ve been vacationing since we were like, five?”

You scowl when he pinches your cheek like you’re a child again. “Yeah, I got that. What about it?”

A snort. “Jeez, have you been listening at all, Noona? We’re talking about going up there for a few days.”

“Oh,” you croak. Unwillingly, you find yourself glancing over at Jungkook, your face growing warm when you see him staring right back, his expression careful and composed. “Right.”

“You should come, Noona,” Taemin pipes up. “You’re here for the next few weeks, right? Might as well have some fun.”

“I don’t know—” you begin, but Jimin cuts you off with a raised finger and another pinch to your cheek.

“You can’t just do homework the whole time you’re here,” he says. “Come with us, Noona. Live a little.”

“It’ll help get your mind off your internship, too,” Jungkook remarks softly. “You deserve a break. Just a few days won’t hurt.”

The fact that he remembers your internship woes shouldn’t make your heart lurch. You know it shouldn’t, but you can’t help the way your chest swells dangerously. “Fine,” you concede, reaching over Taehyung to pinch Jimin’s cheek in retaliation. “I’ll come, I guess.”

Taehyung and Taemin cheer, and Minho wraps his arm around your shoulder and squeezes you tight. “We should invite the other girls,” he points out, chuckling when you splutter for air in his ironclad grasp and try in vain to shake him off. “Don’t want it to be a total sausage fest.”

“Penis party is a much better term,” Taehyung interjects helpfully. “It’s alliterative.”

“You want alliterative? How about a cock carnival?” Jimin supplies, before doubling over in giggles.

You huff, exasperated at the ludicrous turn in conversation. “I can’t believe I’m coming with you guys.”

Minho snickers. “Title of your sex tape,” he jokes, punctuating it with a suggestive eyebrow waggle that sobers your brother up immediately. Jimin straightens up and fixes Minho with a glare, and despite your brother’s smaller stature, the older boy still shrinks back slightly.

“Dude, that’s my sister.”

Minho raises his hands apologetically. “Sorry, sorry. Automatic response. My bad.”

You just roll your eyes. “Are you twelve? God. I don’t know how the girls put up with any of you.”

Gradually, the night draws to a close. The number of people milling about dwindles, and Taehyung fiddles with his phone, letting out a satisfied hum when he finds the playlist he wants. The music transforms into something low and smooth, the soft R&B beat filling the room. You feel your eyes begin to droop.

“We should probably head home,” Jimin says, stretching his arms lazily overhead. “Noona here has to get her beauty sleep, and I don’t feel like carrying her back if she falls asleep here.”

“Shut up, Chim,” you mumble, but there’s no real bite in your tone. Jimin just chuckles and stands up, tugging on your hand until you’re on your feet as well. Jungkook straightens up too, and together, you bid farewell to the others and head for the door.

“{Name}, wait a second.”

You turn at the sound of Jisoo’s voice, tilting your head curiously as she lays a gentle hand on your arm and ushers you off to the side. “Yeah?”

Jisoo casts a furtive glance around the hallway, lowering her voice to a murmur. “I see what’s going on with Jungkook,” she whispers once she’s sure the coast is clear.

You stiffen, your mouth opening and closing a few times before you manage to find your voice again. “You… you saw us?”

She nods. “He’s been watching you all night—it’d honestly be harder not to notice. I just…” She sighs and looks around again, missing the relief that must be etched across your expression as her gaze lingers on where Jungkook and Jimin are loitering by the door. “…just be careful, okay? Jungkook—he’s changed this past year. I mean, I don’t know if all the rumors are true, but… he’s not the same guy you probably remember. He went out with Chae for a few weeks, did she tell you that?”

At your look of horror, she sighs. “Figures. She hides it well, but I know she’s still torn up about how he ended it after they slept together. So watch out for him, okay? He’s a heartbreaker. And he never, ever stays until the morning.”

Every word that leaves her mouth stings, but you don’t let that show on your face. Instead, you force a smile and pat her hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry about me,” you tell her. “I’m not going to get involved with him.”

You repeat that to yourself the whole way home, trying not to focus on the young man a few paces away and the way you can still taste him on your tongue.

#jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #bts imagines #brother's best friend!au #lia writes

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tessiete · 3 years

Note

If you still take prompts: Rumors of the Duchess of Mandalore (bc patriarchal bs and misogynistic beliefs about female leaders) potentially getting married reaches Coruscant and Obi-Wan copes as well as can be expected. Cue sad boi sadness with maybe fluff at the end? Or go full angst I’m ok with either

I AM! I am still taking prompts, and I know this took a while to get around to because I’m also sloooooow at filling them. But here we are, dear anon. I hope you enjoy this little snippet! <3

THE GRAVITATIONAL DEFLECTION OF LIGHT

There is some silly, selfish part of him that he never outgrew, and like a weed in his gut it twists and writhes when he hears that the Duchess Kryze is to marry.

And suddenly, he finds himself thinking of her more often, and more frequently during situations where his attention would best be put to use elsewhere. In council, he is forced to ask Master Windu to repeat a question he’d failed to hear, his mind being drawn by the gleam of light off the Senate dome on the horizon. During a sparring match, he takes a hit he’d never have missed except that Anakin threatens to deliver him a close shave at the end of his saber, and he’s struck dumb by the memory of her hand upon his cheek. There are peace lilies in a vase in the Archives, and pure beskar changes hands in a deal he’s meant to disrupt at a Separatist camp, but by far the most egregious lapse comes in the midst of relief efforts in a small village on Taskeed. He is caught, for a moment, by the sight of a woman with blonde hair and a young boy on her hip turning away from him. His focus slips. A blaze of light flashes more quickly than he can see, and by the time he hears the retort of a blaster rifle he is already on the ground.

The clones close ranks around him. Cody kneels, calling in a medevac even as Obi-Wan tries to rise.

“No, sir, stay down,” he says, laying one hand against his shoulder. Obi-Wan winces at the contact. His muscles strain at the effort, the nerves at the site of his injury ruptured and ragged.

“Cody,” he chokes out. “There’s a hostile.”

His second is a merciful man and makes no comment on the idiocy of that statement. Instead, he bites open a pain tab, and shoves it between Obi-Wan’s teeth. Then, so rapidly he has no time to protest, he removes his belt, and tears apart the fabric at Obi-Wan’s waist, sprinkling sulfa powder over the gory wound, and pressing a bacta patch down to cover it.

There is no more blaster fire to mark their passage back to the ship, but the wound is too serious to treat on board The Negotiator. He is sent back to Coruscant as a consequence of his foolishness.

There, he is dipped in bacta, where he doesn’t dream, and he spends the next week of his convalescence thinking of her.

It had never been this bad during their first separation. The months following her ascension to the duchy had been painful, that he cannot deny, and he spent hours in his room lonely, and self-pitying, but he had been a child then and he can forgive himself now of the folly of youthful indiscretions. There followed more than a decade between them and he had gone days, weeks - upon the outbreak of war even months - without thinking of her at all.

But with one touch of her hand, he’s fallen again, his resolve crumbling into dust as though his indifference to her were only a veneer grown thin and brittle with being stretched over so much time.

The Duchess of Mandalore is to marry.

Why should that matter to him? They are friends. Hardly that, and nothing more. And it was he who had defined those terms. So why should he be restless, and anxious, and fretted up like some craftsman’s handiwork at the thought of it? It is silly. It is demeaning - to her, and to him.

And yet...he wants to know.

Who is she to marry? And when? How did they meet? Is he a Mandalorian, like her? Or did she meet him here? Did they meet at the Senate while he walked in the Temple only a few klicks away? Have they much in common? Do his political aims match hers? Does he long for peace like she does? Will he stand by her side in upholding it? Would he die for it? Would he die for her? Does she love him?

She must, he thinks. She must love him. She would not choose him, otherwise.

And that, perhaps, is the cruelest thought of all.

He is confined to medbay with nothing to occupy his time but his holopad, his dispatch reports, and her when he sees a news story flash on his screen.

At Last! The Lily is Plucked

He cannot help himself as he reads about a chance meeting, a whirlwind romance, and plenty of private assignations held at various hotels and restaurants across Capital City. There are holos, too, and reels. He sees her leaving the Bal Silvestre on the arm of Corellian senator, Garm Bel Iblis.

Senator Bel Iblis is older than her, and seems a bit unkempt, his long hair pulled half back in a simple style. Obi-Wan knows of him by reputation, and heard him called a rake. His politics brand him a maverick, and a rogue, and he has been known, once or twice, to engage in backdoor negotiations in order to ensure a vote swings one way or another in his favour. Beside him, while he stands smug in his dark brocade, she shines. She is spotless. Luminous. They are not well matched.

He scours the net for more, and because he is looking, he finds it. There are many articles - hundreds. Some map out timelines of their courtship (they met years ago, apparently, at some gala held while Obi-Wan was still helping Anakin with Basic), some tell the history of their previous romantic entanglements (he was engaged to a woman now dead. She was once rumoured to be promised to a Vizsla. Obi-Wan’s name is not mentioned). Some merely provide pictures of their exploits, and comment on their mutual friends, making conjecture after conjecture about how their romance came to be, and what must happen next now that the flame has been rekindled. It is torturous. And tedious. And soon, Obi-Wan loses track of the details that appear in one article, and again in every other.

But one thing remains clear to him: Satine Kryze is going to be married. She has forever slipped his reach.

A reach, he pathetically reminds himself, he never intended to extend. All this self-flagellation is for naught. He is being ridiculous.

So he thumbs off his pad, turns out the lights, and tries to sleep with the image of Satine, smiling and resplendent flickering in his mind. The next morning, feeling no better for the little rest he managed to steal, he deletes the history of his pad, and determines to feel absolutely nothing at all about Satine Kryze.

Then Padme comes to the Council and requests a padawan be sent to Mandalore’s aid.

It is Ahsoka who goes. Of course it is. He takes small solace in the fact that it had not been he who suggested her, but since she was assigned, he feels well within his rights to enquire about the Duchess upon her return.

“She seemed fine,” Ahsoka tells him. He has invited her for tea following her report to the Council, hoping he might, in his hospitality, coax a few more personal details from his grand-padawan. “I mean, there was a moment where Almec - that’s the Prime Minister, or rather was - anyway, there was a moment where he had her in a shock collar, but like I said, the cadets and I managed to sort it out.”

“Right,” he concedes. “As you said.”

A moment passes between them. Obi-Wan sips his tea, struggling to swallow as the fist around his throat grows tighter and tighter. Ahsoka, blissful in the aftermath of a successful solo mission, grabs another biscuit and a strip of perami gammon.

“And tell me,” he ventures. “What of her - her consort? Any word of him? Where was he during this mess?”

“Her consort?”

“Her husband.”

Ahsoka scrunches her nose, and cocks a brow at Obi-Wan’s wild inquiry.

“She had a nephew,” she says. “But no one ever said anything about a consort.”

“Ah,” he says. “Perhaps he was occupied elsewhere.”

“Maybe,” she agrees, amicable and amenable to letting the whole thing slide. He only hopes she won’t think it significant enough to mention to Anakin later. His curiosity won’t be as easily sated with tea and deflection.

He is not a lucky man.

Anakin comes blazing into his room with an ambitious stride, and a grin that speaks of imminent mischief.

“Heard you were asking Ahsoka about the Duchess’ consort,” he says, throwing his cloak over the back of a chair and dropping to lounge across Obi-Wan’s low couch.

“I was asking about her mission,” he corrects. He turns his back to set some water to boil, knowing that such an entrance by his padawan indicates a visit of extended duration. “And the key players, therein. Purely professional.”

“Purely.” Anakin smirks.

The subject is dropped when Anakin is diverted by the service being laid before him, and the inclusion of several of his favourite confections.

“Noorian memba tarts!” he cries. “Where did you even find these?”

“An old recipe,” Obi-Wan says. “But I remember you enjoyed them when we dined on Belasco and thought I’d try my hand at it.”

It is not a bad effort either, judging by Anakin’s display of enthusiasm. He eats the first with some degree of etiquette, but the fourth, fifth, and sixth are gone with no display of decency or shame whatsoever.

Obi-Wan sips his tea. He is thinking of Tahl while Anakin is thinking of the sweetness on his tongue, and making excuses for his absence the previous night.

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, but I was unavoidably delayed after the Senate recessed for the evening. I had to - to assist a delegate with a personal matter.”

Obi-Wan says nothing, but remembers how Qui-Gon, too, used to invent reasons to disappear unchecked. He invents nothing. He only cleaves to his duty, while time and fate conspire to keep him absent anyway.

Anakin must hear something in his silence, because his expression loses the tension of equivocation, and he falls to studying Obi-Wan’s face.

“I was only teasing, master,” he says. “Before. I didn’t think to ask Ahsoka anything about the Duchess. She spent most of her time with the nephew, but he seemed a bright kid. Close to Satine. I can ask her to ask him if he knows anything -”

“Absolutely not,” says Obi-Wan. The words are soft, but definite. He rises swiftly to clear the detritus of their meal. “Thank you, Anakin, but Duchess Kryze is only a friend. I merely inquired out of a desire to assure myself that the report issued to the Council lacked nothing in the thoroughness of its presentation. I should hate to think that such a personal association might be overlooked as an avenue for effecting harm.”

“Oh.”

“But I thank you in any case. Ahsoka’s report was well done, and you should be very proud of your padawan,” he says. “As I am of you.”

He turns to Anakin then, smiling and benign. His padawan meets his look with a vaguely skeptical one of his own, before patting him on the shoulder, and shrugging back into his cloak.

“Alright, master,” he says. “I’ll let her know how thorough she was.”

“Goodbye, Anakin.”

“Goodbye,” his friend replies. Then, just as he crosses the threshold of the door and moves into the open hall, he looks back. “Oh,” he says. “There’s a quick supply run being made to Mandalore for relief in light of Ahsoka’s investigation. Scheduled for tomorrow, but unfortunately, I’m needed back at the Senate. I meant to ask - you wouldn’t mind making the trip for me, would you? You don’t even need to get off the ship.”

---

There is nothing he can say to Anakin, so of course, as contrived and embarrassing as the whole thing is, he goes. And he does get off the ship.

Satine is there to meet him.

“Master Kenobi,” she says, extending her hand. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

He drops a brief, and reverential kiss then lets her go.

“Cleaning up after my padawan and his padawan, it seems,” he says. “Apparently, a master’s work is never over. Congratulations on your recent engagement, Duchess. I hope you’ll both be very happy.”

The look which passes over Satine’s face is one he cannot decipher. He thinks she looks in equal parts shocked that he has heard, disgusted by his presumption in speaking of it, embarrassed by his boldness, and wearied by his presence. But she doesn’t deny it, so he makes his excuses to leave.

“Excuse me, Duchess,” he says. “But this was only meant to be a very brief visit, and I should prepare for departure.”

“Can you not stay for midmeal?” she asks, and he hesitates upon the precipice of her invitation. “Surely you don’t mean to tease me with a visit as brief as this? And surely your men would enjoy some rest and repast before you go?”

The troopers at his back shift, and he can feel their eagerness undulate in the Force. It would be cruel to deny them for the preservation of his own fragmented dignity, so he relents.

“Of course, your grace,” he says. “We would be most honoured.”

“Captain,” she says to the Protector at her right. “Have these men fed and watered immediately. The kitchens and my staff are at their disposal.”

He clicks his heels, and disappears, while she steps forward, and wraps her arm around Obi-Wan’s as though completely uncaring of any beau or consort or husband who might see.

“You, my dear master,” she murmurs slyly by his ear. “Are to be attended elsewhere, at my discretion.”

He does nothing to resist as she pulls him along.

Soon, they are at the Palace. Soon, they are sat at a small table in her private quarters, drinking Mandalorian kava, and eating freshly baked land’shun. Soon, they are alone.

She sets her drink aside, and dusts her hands on a fine silk napkin before broaching the subject trapped between them.

“Now, what is this about my nuptials?” she asks. Her blue eyes are steady upon his own, and he feels his palms slick with sweat. She is radiant. She is regal. There is no holo or reel or word that could do justice to the beauty of this woman in the flesh, and he feels that insidious root of jealousy writhe with agony.

“Satine -” he begins.

“No, no,” she protests, seeming to anticipate his deflection before he has begun. “I should like to hear why you think I ought to accept your congratulations, and why you felt you ought to offer them personally, in particular. Mandalore seems a rather dull trip for a High General to make.”

“I came in Anakin’s stead, actually,” he replies pertly. Another sip of kava lends some sophistication to this claim.

“Of course,” she says, but she does not look away. He can feel her gaze upon him. He can feel her glittering in the Force. She is laughing.

And he cannot bear it.

“Forgive me, your grace,” he says, rising to his feet. He sets the cup upon a saucer where it clatters inelegantly against the pot of sucre next to it, overturning the dish and sending the crystals spilling across the table. “Forgive me,” he says again.

She lunges forward to right the pot, and still his hand beneath her own. For a moment, he doesn’t breathe. Then, he pulls away.

“I read about it on the net,” he says. “I saw the holos, and the reels. I only wanted to see you one last time, to see...I wanted to see that you were happy. That’s all.”

“Oh, Ben,” she says, his name like a sigh upon the breeze.

“It is nothing,” he says. “A foolishness all my own. I am sorry if I have troubled you, and I offer you my sincerest congratulations.”

He bows, though when he raises his head, his eyes do not rise with it, so he does not see the look of sorrow upon her face. Still, he imagines it as pity, and moves to make his escape. She is faster than he is.

“No,” she says, standing between him and the door. “I will not accept your congratulations, and I will not accept your departure on such callous terms as these.”

“Duchess -”

“Ben,” she counters, leaning on the name. “I am not engaged. I am not married. And I do not intend to be, no matter how devoted to the idea of it you are.”

“I - devoted?” he asks, his voice rising to the height of his indignation. “I am devoted to no such thing. I have only - only been reconciled to it for weeks, thinking only of you and your happiness.”

“And your own misery, too, I’d wager.”

He chokes on his denial because he knows it is too big a lie to fit through his lips, and stares at her in dismay. She is smiling. Force, he thinks. She is incandescent. Like she has swallowed a star, and he can’t look away. He would that he could be consumed by her too, and finally, he gives in.

“Yes,” he says in an admission of guilt so great it brings relief. “I was miserable. I am, I think, an infinitely miserable person.”

“You are,” she agrees. “But I am not getting married, I am not engaged, and I am only as in love as I ever have been. And if you are foolish enough to forget that, then you are deserving of every misery you heap on yourself.”

“Have pity,” he begs.

“None,” she says.

“Have mercy,” he pleads.

“For you?” she says. “Always.”

They fall together like gravity and sunlight, and for a moment, whole galaxies bend to their will.

#my fic #prompt fill #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #obitine #garm's here #and anakin #and ahsoka #i mashed everyone in #star wars #fic #gffa

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moeruhoshi · 4 years

Note

Hi! I hope you're doing well. Idk if you're taking requests but I had this cute idea where little dragon Natsu ends up really liking his teacher Anna (lucy's aunt) bc he smells Lucy on her but Natsu's not able to really understand that so he just knows he likes this teacher (this is based off of that one scene at the end in the anime). And then Anna brings Lucy to school with her bc no one can watch over her. Then Natsu sees Lucy and it all just clicks 👀🥰🥰

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES

“Natsu,” Anna laughed as her little student smothered his face against the legs of her long skirt. “You have to go home, no more clinging to me, okay?”

“But Miss Anna smells really good,” The fledgling whined, using the little bit of strength in his hands to try and stay attached. His father sighed and pulled him by his waist, rolling his eyes when his son began to glare at him.

“Come on, Natsu,” Igneel grumbled and crouched down to his level. “Miss Anna has to go home too, and you’ll see her in the morning,”

“Okay...” He huffed, letting his weirdly strong grip on her go. His eyes glazed up at the smiling woman, his heart not so subtly skipping a beat. “G-Goodnight, Miss Anna!”

“Goodnight, Natsu,” She giggled and waved off the small boy who kept his eyes glued to her form as his father carried him away. He sighed lovingly, resting his head on Igneel’s shoulder. His tail had come out on its own, wagging behind him and slightly smacking his dad in the face.

“N-Natsu!” He sputtered, holding the appendage down. “You do this everyday, can’t you calm down already?”

“Nope!” He grinned as his tired father rolled his eyes, taking off into the air with his miniature prodigy.

Grandine greeted them at the door with a finger to her lips, holding Natsu’s younger sister in her arms.

“I just got Wendy to fall asleep so please be quiet,” She glared, bouncing the baby gently before going back into the house.

“But I wanted to tell mama about school today,” Their son pouted as he pulled off his shoes.

“You can at dinner, alright? But for now, you can sit and watch television.” Igneel ushered the little fire dragon into the living room, making sure the volume was just above two as he left Natsu by his lonesome.

He wandered upstairs to find his wife, Grandine gently putting Wendy to rest in her crib.

He carefully wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek, chuckling lowly as she melted into his hold.

“I love having babies, but I swear, no more,” She shook her head furiously. “Wendy’s sensitivity to sound is...ugh, I just forgot that this is something we’d have to deal with while she’s still so young,”

“Me too,” Igneel sighed, the both of them carefully exiting the room as Wendy cooed in her sleep. “But that might not be the worst of our problems,”

“What do you mean? Natsu’s not fighting at school again, is he?” She groaned, following her husband down the stairs.

“No, hes just very attatched to his teacher. It’s the way she smells, he wouldn’t let her go when I went to pick him up,”

“Oh gosh, that doesn’t sound good,” She pursed her lips and turned to face him. “But there’s nothing else weird about the way he’s acting, is there? I don’t think we need to be worried unless he starts getting possessive or antsy without her around.”

“You’re right, but I swear I’m going to lose it if his instincts wake up early while we’re dealing with Wendy’s hearing,”

“Worst case scenario, we can just send her to stay with my mother for a little while.”

The worst case scenario would prove to be a reality for the Dragneel family as the years went on, but the next day of school was the beginning of the worst of it.

It wasn’t until a dragon reached their adolescence that their instincts woke within them, making it much easier for the parent to walk their child through the understanding of their own body.

And it wasn’t completely unheard of for a dragon to meet his mate early on in life. The only worry that came along with said encounter was a possible, accidental marking. It was hard to tell a child to fight off that kind of urge, especially when it was such an overpowering voice in their mind telling them to do so. And without proper supervision, there was no telling what might happen. It was only when the aftermath occurred, that things went haywire.

Sure, an older dragon could stand being away from their mate for however long they needed to be, were mature enough to understand that it was just a part of life. But for someone so young, they’d whine and cry like you had just taken their favorite bear away. And a baby dragon would have no issue with destroying everything around them in efforts to get what was theirs back at their side.

When Natsu walked through the doors of his preschool, he was quick to run from his father's side and into the open arms of his teacher waiting to greet him.

Igneel watched with a steady smile, but took it as a good sign when all Natsu did was take in a big whiff of her skirt before skipping off to find his friends.

He left for work feeling relatively secure with his assumptions, not knowing the madness he’d soon be faced with that evening.

When everyone had arrived, Anna clapped her hands and had all the students gather on a large and colorful carpet.

“Alright, so today is going to be a little different,” The teacher started, staring into the excited and few wandering eyes. “We have someone joining us today! I want you to make her feel super welcome, because she’s my niece! Everyone, I’d like you to meet Lucy!”

A little blonde girl, not much taller than the rest of them, appeared as if out of nowhere from behind Miss Anna’s skirt.

She waved her small hand and blushed in embarrassment, not used to so many people looking at her all at once.

Natsu, who always sat at the front of the carpet, felt his heart begin to pound. He stared at Lucy with wide eyes and felt a grin split before he knew it.

She was the source of Miss Anna’s hypnotic smell, why hadn’t he met her until now? If Miss Anna knew that she smelled so good, wouldn’t she have brought her here sooner?!

He wanted to stand up and tackle her in a hug, but he knew Miss Anna wouldn’t like it if he interrupted her outside of recess time.

“Lucy lives in Acalypha, but she’ll be here in Magnolia this week while her parents are out of town,” Their teacher said, everyone excitedly waving and saying hi. Though Gray tried not to look too excited about a new friend when he saw Juvia staring relentlessly at him.

“We’ll start this morning with arts and crafts, okay? So go sit at your usual tables,” She said, allowing the bunch of toddlers to stand and find their way to their seat. “Natsu, could I ask you to do a very special thing for me?”

“Uh huh! I can do anything, Miss Anna!” He chirped, practically bouncing as he stood in place.

“Could I ask you to look after Lucy while she’s here?” She asked, crouching down to push her little niece a little closer to the dragon. “She’ll need a good friend to show her the ropes, don’t you think so?”

“Mhm! Just trust me, Luce! I’ll be your bestest friend ever!” Natsu said excitedly, reaching out to grab her by the hand.

“O-Okay,” Lucy squeaked a bit as he pulled her along with him, showing her to his table and the others that sat with him.

It would have been more obvious as to what was going on if Natsu was more rambunctious, but he was the epitome of calm. Though that really should have set off at least one alarm. Since when was that fire dragon ever this well behaved?

He was kind and didn’t come on too strongly, in the way that he would have towards Gray or Erza. Instead, he was clear and coherent in his usage of words, or as clear as a six year old was able to get.

When Lucy looked like she was confused, he helped her out with instructions or ran off to collect the materials she really wanted to use. Miss Anna would have paid more mind to this if she hadn’t had to focus her attention on one of the more upset students. It was Millianna, as usual, crying over her inability to be at home with her pet cat.

Natsu made sure she got to know his friends too once it was time for recess, the little blonde hitting it off right away with Levy and Cana. Erza was a bit embarrassed to meet someone knew, but warmed up to Lucy’s sweet smile in no time. Juvia...well Juvia was alright the rest of the day since Gray agreed to hold her hand. And Gajeel was always nonchalant, not caring about what was going on...unless Levy was scolding him.

At lunch, if anyone had the ability to notice, would have seen Natsu absolutely swooning from his seat across from Lucy.

He sighed lovingly and pushed his round cheeks up with his hands, leaning forward on them to admire her. She was in the middle of talking about her favorite book to the pixie beside her, Erza and Cana both fumbling to tie her hair in loose braids. They swore they could do it as good as Miss Anna could.

Once she looked his way, his heart began skipping, his cheeks became flushed, and his adrenaline; well Natsu didn’t really understand that feeling. He really liked the way she looked at him though.

Lucy laughed and picked a grain of rice that rested on his cheek, popping it between her lips as she stole it from him.

Uwah...

During nap time, he couldn’t help himself anymore. Lucy absolutely, one hundred percent, needed to sleep by his side.

Not that she complained. Rather, she was excited that someone else was just as excited to be her friend.

Natsu smothered his nose against her cheek and fell asleep, holding her like he did his dragon-bear at home. Lucy liked that he was warm and snuggly, like her doggy, Plue.

That was the first memory of the best sleep he’d ever gotten in his life. And any nap he had at her side in the future would count as well.

When his dad came by at the end of the day...it’s a good thing that everything indoors was magic-proofed.

Lucy had been in a separate room at the time so she was spared the sight of a mad-raving, fire-spewing and burning, fledgling have to be dragged out of the school.

There was something inside of him that screamed, felt pain beyond what pain had meant.

No no no no no no no no!

It drove him practically literally insane. It pounded in his brain, in every nerve end and even more so. It was as if he left his heart behind and all that could replace it was rage.

Needless to say that Wendy and Grandine were out of the house before Igneel got anywhere near them.

Sleeping spells worked, if only for the night. It was spine-chilling to see him so catatonic in the morning. Like all that fire from the night before was all he had, that the flame that rested at the pit of his stomach couldn’t be lit again.

But when Natsu came back to school and saw Lucy standing there, waving with the cutest grin ever on her face, well...Igneel probably the only one who got upset.

“Anna,” He sighed and wiped a tired hand over his face. “We need to talk, if you have the time right now,”

#nalu #natsu and lucy #lucy and natsu #natsu x lucy #lucy x natsu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #baby nalu #fairy tail #nalu fanfiction #nalu fanfic #nalu fan fiction #nalu fan fic

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awildhanmonster · 6 years

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Character Ramblings for Wyrd!

At Wyrd’s behest, I’m trying to write down a little master post of some recent characters she bullied— I mean enabled— me to create. This is for our casual Loserverse world— i.e. the fast-and-loose All The Myths Are True low fantasy trope where a bunch of well intentioned idiots try to get by in an apartment complex for largely mythical creatures. I’ve accidentally made up a lot of new side characters in the past month and it’s getting hard to keep track of them, so here we go!

THE HOMESTEADING SHAPESHIFTER TRIO: AKA NELL, LEONORA AND BARNES

I’m listing these three together on their own because they are an active “couple” (… trio? I’m not sure what the right polyamory term is) who all live together in a more rural part of the county on some acreage generationally owned and tended by Nora’s family line. Their personal plot is pretty manageable (just a few acres) and a small portion of the entire property. They have a little flock of maybe 2 dozen combined sheep and goats, some chickens, and possibly an alpaca. The land is woodsy and picturesque with an old country house they share.

Nell J. Harriet, aka Nell: approximately 32 years old, born intersex, happily nonbinary (pronouns are ‘they’). The tallest of the bunch at around 6’ even, with a pale wiry frame and knobby, angular corners all over. Jet black hair with a striking chunk of white smack dab at the front of the widow’s peak like the trail of a dog’s blaze, one solid brown eye, one split tweaky blue/brown mess. Shifted form is a black and white border collie with (surprise!) heterochromia and a chunky white blaze cutting through the forehead right at the widow’s peak.

Despite being born to a mother with a long family history of (gene-recessive) shifters cropping up every generation, Nell was still a surprise to everyone involved, given that their father had presumably been human. Their mother— who I’ll call Meryl for now— comes from a fairly mundane lineage of canine shifter (while being a non-shifter Rr carrier herself) which typically manifests in early childhood and has a certain period of semi-conscious malleability during the formative years in which things like coat color, length, ear set, and other minor (external) features can be changed through great effort and trial/error before eventually “settling” into a constant, unique physical identity with time. They heal several times faster than average humans, scar less, and tend to show greater physical resilience, taking a few seconds to painlessly and more-or-less fluidly change shape, but lack any kind of “burst healing” mechanic or unusual magical attributes.

Everyone else in the family before Nell had turned out some kind of pleasantly functional “mutt” shape in the end, but Nell erupted onto the scene as a full blown black-and-white border collie looking thing from day 1 of the change as a bouncy toddler. Meryl could only guess that the father (long since vanished from their lives with no hard feelings, the affair was brief) was a similar, incidentally compatible shapeshifter himself, but that’s about as well as anyone can guess since he’s not around to ask.

Nell, for their part, is exactly the kind of plucky, sunshiny, high-energy velcro person you would expect from a border collie on two legs. They struggled in early childhood with some rough ADHD and OCD type tendencies, but managed to get through public schooling with the help of family support/tutoring, and wound up not pursuing college in favor of trying out a more rural living, instead. They met Leonora while bouncing around odd jobs a couple years after high school and the rest is history. They’re much happier now with a largely outdoor existence and animals to tend to, burning off the excess energy that plagued them for years without a direction prior to homesteading. They’re one of those types who thrives with an outlet for physical and mental stimulation but loses their mind for lack of it. As one would expect from any good BC. The farming life is an ideal fit.

Leonora Basso: aka Nora, but only if you’re close to her. Approximately 34-ish, a shameless bohemian woman from a long line of shifters almost functionally identical to Raiker/Nicky’s species, with the exception of taking on the form of giant (thanks, conservation of mass) white maremma type guardian dogs instead of akbash. Built square, stocky, and a little short (probably around 5’4’’), with olive/bronze-y skin, brown eyes, and a giant fluffy mess of fluffy, platinum white-blond hair the exact color and texture of maremma fur.

She’s chill, with admirable patience for things that warrant it and a long fuse for small annoyances, though she’s also the only member of the three to ever knock someone’s teeth out, so take that with a grain of salt. Like any good guardian dog, she’s placid until you start messing with her flock— literally or metaphorically. Then she’ll be the one to quietly walk across the bar and slam your head into the table. She met Nell during a trip to the inner city by complete happenstance when the two hit it off over conversation, during which she invited them to come visit her farm over a public touring weekend, and within weeks wound up dating. Their relationship was exclusive up until Barnes came along and none of them are quite sure how it happened, but they’ve never been in a better place.

Chancellor Barneston Augustine-Kingslay, aka Barnes: and ONLY Barnes, okay. Repeat his full name N E V E R or he’ll just, seriously, die. Of embarrassment. The youngest of the bunch at around 27-28 or so, Barnes was adopted by his (human) parents as a (human, presumably) infant, and had a perfectly normal (human, presumably) childhood until one day when his mother came in and found that her napping four year old was suddenly a napping 40 pound maine coon cat— or at least, what LOOKED a whole lot like one. Needless to say, the following week was a scramble of buying every “Help! My Child is a Shapeshifter, What Do I Do!” parenting book off Amazon and learning how to cope with a toddler who could suddenly vault over double stacked safety gates unaided, but they learned how to adapt, and life continued on happily for the little family anyway. He’s an average sort, and arguably handsome to some: about 5’8’’, not especially pale or tan, hazel eyed, and sporting what looks like perpetually dark-ticked mouse brown hair, cut short. He performed well enough in public school with a mostly human peer group who went largely unaware of his “talents” and even went on to earn a bachelor’s in business/finances/something akin, which seemed like the thing to do. He wouldn’t describe himself as unhappy in his accomplishments; by every metric he was doing fine in life, and could easily figure out a career in some white collar job that paid his bills well enough.

He just couldn’t shake a certain feeling of restlessness and dissatisfaction about the idea, and wound up making a habit of weekend demos and classes to see what else was out there in the world: one of which happened to be a sheep shearing weekend out at the Basso Homestead. On a whim, Barnes attended a demo headed by none other than Leonora while she was using a feisty ram (named Ramses) to walk visitors through the shearing process, Ramses was being fighty, Nell wasn’t around to help wrangle him, and Barnes, thinking he was capable, volunteered (despite Nora warning him repeatedly that rams were pretty feisty) to help hold him down.

… Needless to say he earned a spectacular nut shot via ram horns in the groin and wound up sitting out the rest of the day with an ice pack and a lot of sympathy, but it got him talking to Nora, and then Nell, and the three of them just gelled in a way that kept bringing them back together. He’s realized in hindsight that he’s much happier in the suburbs than the big city, and enjoys putting his schooling to use by handling the home taxes and business numbers.

(Fun fact: years later, when it Ramses got too big for his britches and was sent to the abattoir, they were given part of him by the Basso family and cooked a roast to celebrate the asshole sheep that brought them all together. Ramses was delicious.)

Barnes, incidentally, still has no idea just WHAT kind of shifter he actually is thanks to being a doorstep baby/anonymous adoption acquisition by the foster folks— aside from a giant 100+ pound country cat, that is. He’s observed that his shift is nearly as swift as Leonora’s, though there are queer persistences that he seems to have (pierced ears not healing instantly or trying to close after a change) that she lacks. Coupled with the fact that he seems to be a magnet for comically mundane/irritating paranormal activity, he’s put in his research (mostly as a boredom hobby, not a necessary pursuit) but keeps drawing blanks on potential labels for his identity. The TRUTH of the matter (which he’ll probably never know in canon) is that he’s actually a cait sith— born in the form of a cat, rather than a human, and bewitched by his mother to retain a human form as long as possible in the hopes that it would get him a better chance at finding loving parents. His shifting has a much heavier magical component to it than his SOs, though he has no real sense for it, and it’ll probably just be a mystery the rest of his life.

Wow, yeah, this got super long! I’ll make a separate post for the other losers I’ve made up lately, though these three are the most fleshed out so far.

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emilywatchescursedshow · 3 years

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S1 E18 - Something Wicked This Way Comes

Director: Whitney Ransick

Writers: Eric Kripke, Daniel Knauf

Hopefully this episode doesn’t fucking suck

This just is a shot from an X-Files episode but I can’t remember which one.

OOH CREEPY HAND WE LOVE ITTT YESSSSSSS

Uhoh hopefully that girl’s ok

Following the dad clue huh. “He’s been so easy to find” right like he didn’t just come when you called that one tim.

Huh more sign communication but this time it’s all red vs black interesting color theory.

Wow no kid’s playing on a playground 2006 was a different time.

Dean picking up a milf

Oh no, this is the creepy S2 Buffy episode with the top hat guy. I love that episode but why do we have 2 Buffy ripoffs in a row.

Creepy old lady oh no is she a witch or... their MOM???? oh there’s an inverted cross she’s def evil, like they couldn’t have possibly made that more obvious. The shots in this episode are good also.

It’s weird watching a TV show where the production is so tight but the writing and acting are kinda blah.

THESE KIDS CAUGHT THE CURRENT from all these opens windows

How are they inside of this guy’s house

Creepy skeletal handprint

We’re getting young Dean flashback. I see he inherited the popped collar gene from his dad. I had hoped it was recessive.

Sam and Dean look like they’re the same age. They’re in a motel room??

Important detail for no reason but this is the first time I’ve been able to see clearly that Dean has hazel eyes.

Sam doesn’t remember his dad’s failings as a hunter interesting brother characterization

Can we please stop with the textual wincest jokes

Dean’s having “taking care of Sam” flashbacks and giving him all the lucky charms oh adorable I feel weird about these and idk why yet

She?

Sam not loving that Dean has all these memories that he doesn’t.

Wait ok I’m now having another what the fucking hell moment bc in this scene the costumer put Sam in a t-shirt that just has. A massive, fucked up looking dog on it. It is the weirdest shirt. Why does sam own this shirt

Oh no I hope it’s not the old woman from before that Dean spent like a million years staring at

Oh I remember this era of the 2000s when people would walk through the back of their too long jeans so the little pieces flapped behind them. The fact that Jarps jean’s are too long for him is hilarious because he’s already so fucking tall

Ok creepy old woman scene. Right because someone would just leave an inverted crucifix be

Hm I wonder if these idiots just kept their trees trimmed we wouldn’t have these problems anymore.

Jarps laugh is very stupid.

Dean having another little kid moment talking to a little blonde boy.

THANK GOD WE HAVE A DEAN SAYING “THIS IS NOT YOU’RE FAULT”

A accepting a lift to the hospital from a strange is uh not smart even when that person be Dean. Sam taking a phone call at the library what a naughty boy doesn’t he know it’s a quiet zone.

15-20 years back to the 1890s is like 5 different towns

Ah yes it’s the doctor. Sam probably shouldn’t have let Dean hang up the phone just then.

I love how the doctor still believes that Dean is a doctor when he’s got his popped leather jacket collar.

Wow Dean oh nooooo don’t talk about not firing your gun in a pediatrics ward.

We’re having a what’s the responsibility of children theme painted over with Dean’s weird childhood trauma about not being able to live up to his dad’s unreasonable expectations.

This monster is just emperor Palpatine but taller. Also I feel like Dean reacted as best he could in this situation lmao

Oh also John Winchester’s actor sucks also. Was he using his kids as bait??? Why else didn’t he drop them off at pastor Jim’s earlier.

Dean was like 12 when this happened. Why did Sam give up so quickly on the “you were just a kid” angle.

Ok so now we’re confronting the kid about this. He’s doing a good job stumbling his way through these scenes with clutching at the phone.

Dean suddenly getting the sense that the requests his dad made of him were unreasonable huh. Oh wait no the kid’s going along with it and we’re getting some stupid “you’d do anything for your brother” lines.

Dean literally telling a kid “we’re not gonna shoot you” what the fuck is this show

The kid is more afraid of getting shot than the monster which i feel like is reasonable but hilarious in the context of the show

Constipated iron rounds

Sam apologizing to Dean... Dean “Oh God kill me now” yeah I sort of feel the same.

I gotta give this monster props for always making the mast dramatic fucking entrances. Once again emperor Palpatine. Also the kid is just fully staring at the guy which apparently is fine I guess. We had to show the kid rolling under the bed so we know they didn’t shoot him which is fair I guess.

Oh the thing’s body didn’t vanish I guess because it has to attack Sam, unfinished business I guess.

Yeah this is feeding, not just leaning over a guy.

And now the body vanishes, but not before Dean shoots it a couple more times. We love being ineffectual.

Michael realizing that oh no SAM is the little brother.

Dean has problems.

Sam wishing he were Asher, Dean knowing he’s stuck as Michael. God this music is wayyy too literal for me to take it seriously.

I thought this episode was alright!! There were some rough points but I think we were sort of due for a “Dean has overprotective feelings in re: Sam” episode.

#supernatural #supernatural liveblog #SPN

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meggannn · 7 years

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ignore me bc i just need to do my weekly bioware rant this is one ive kept inside for a while

something about default femshep (the looks, not necessarily the name jane) has always irritated tf out of me and even tho i reblog fanart/gifs when i like the content i’m starting to think i always will be lowkey pissed when i see her in like default imagery and shit lmao. all i can think about is the missed fucking potential

like it’s no secret to any of us that bioware is sexist and racist so it’s never really been surprising to me that their most featured heroes are usually their default white male protagonists (garrett, john, scott). and of course the female protags are always white to match because expecting them to take a risk is just playing yourself at this point. but something about default shep, femshep in particular, grinds my gears because: this is a futuristic universe in which white people are now the minority and they still pick goddamn white protagonists! (the follow-up to this is “why aren’t you as upset about the ryders” and the answer is that while i am definitely irritated that scott looks like everybody’s white douchebag cousin, ellen is still visibly brown no matter how much you customize the twins and alec. i always thought sara could be passably mixed but even though i know a biracial family was not bw’s intention, seeing as ellen got .02% of screentime in shit lighting, i’m not gonna give them that credit but i’m still gonna snatch this canon with both hands.)

yet the fact that default femshep’s appearance was picked in a gd beauty contest is honestly the most insulting thing lmao. it was the method through which bw washed their hands and said “well we gave the fans what they want! you can’t blame us for being racist and image-conscious if they all pick the conventionally attractive white woman” leaving aside the fact that there was only one woc option of all five (i guess if you’re not white or black you’re SOL, but even if you’re black you’re STILL sol bc you’re outnumbered by four identical looking white women who will inevitably get picked), and also leaving aside that heterosexual male participants just picked the one that they thought looked the sexiest because that’s what fucking matters when you’re a stressed-out high-ranking navy seal-equivalent marine put in charge of saving the galaxy

i mean like don’t get me started on the makeup

then when the results came out everyone was most pissed that she was Barbie Doll Blonde, so they held ANOTHER contest and picked red, as if like....... that fixed the actual problem.......

somehow i get less angry when it comes to default marian, bc like. yeah it does really irritate me that she (and garrett) is pale af. still i feel like there was at least some semblance of effort put into her design from the start, because she looks polished from the beginning? even though bw marketing treated her awfully. and even though it would make a lot of thematic and meaningful sense for real world players if the hawkes were poc or mixed (immigrants fleeing their home due to a catastrophe out of their control and being treated like shit when they arrive at their refuge, needing to climb their way up to while avoiding detection and brutality from a corrupt police presence, and STILL facing discrimination after years of living in the city? come on) i’m willing to press the issue more in the mass effect universe bc this is a universe in which white is now a confirmed minority race, and now the average humans is supposed to look like kaidan.

anyway my point is that like by me3 it was far too late for bioware to save this hot mess of a debate. they didn’t even get their act together w femshep by me2, which was only a year before they released marian. and shep has so many more reasons to not be pale-skinned and redhead (both recessive traits by the mid 22nd century)

i don’t wanna hear “you can still be badass and blonde/redhead/freckled/wear makeup, so stop talking like default femshep is lesser bc she’s conventionally pretty!” or “i’m a redhead and i like seeing myself represented and stop making me feel bad for liking that” and i know ppl headcanon their shep might have dyed red hair or something, yada yada, but like i hope that by this point people who remain in leftist spaces and understand the meaning of words like “marginalization” and “black lives matter” understand things like that are so Not the Issue im talking about

#best not read if youre a default femshep fan #like no hard feelings or anything and nobody needs to defend their love for default jane cause honestly i get it #im just Always Angry at Bioware #and my urge to use a single character model for the sake of consistency is clashing w my hatred of the circumstances in which bw made jane #megan talks about bw

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brightlytae · 6 years

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angel, awe, baby, blossom, blush, bright, calm, cozy, cupcake, cute, cutie pie, daylight, dear, doll, dreams, euphoric, fairy, gem, giggles, heart, honey, hunnybunch, kitty, ladybug, love, magic, moonlight, munchkin, paddywack, precious, pretty, prince, princess, pumpkin, rainbow, smitten, snuggle, starlight, soft, toot, treasure, whiffle, whiskers, wiggly, and wispy.

angel: do you have a nickname? people normally just call me P, little P or Paoletta!

awe: How old are you? 21

baby: Fave colour? Purple and blue!

blossom: Favourite book/ movie/ song? book- The Princess Bride, movie- The Goonies, song- (ima stick to bts) Move, Spring day and Baepsae

blush: What was your stuffed animal as a child? I had this teddy bear called angel and I used to take her everywhere with me. I loved her so much seriously she was so soft and i used to buy little outfits for her and everything.

bright: Mermaids or fairies? damnnnnnn like a bitch loves both so much? Ima pick mermaids though just because im so attached to the sea and water in general.

calm: Favourite scent? vanilla!

cozy: eye/hair colour? I have green eyes and ashy blonde hair. Im naturally brunette though.

cupcake: Favourite flower/plant? Lotus flowers, blossoms, cacti, money plants (this is what my famo call them so idk their actual name?)

cute: What did you get on your last birthday? LOTS OF FLOWERS! (i absolutely adore flowers), Jewelry to mark my 21st, money...

cutie pie: Most precious item you own? anything my grandparents have given me. My nonno bought me a vintage typewriter that i keep in my room that i love.

daylight: Favourite album of all time? this is hard. the all time low weightless album is really special to me. The wicked broadway musical soundtrack too. Also the bts Young forever album has a very very special place in my heart.

dear: Zodiac sign? cancer!

doll: How do you like to dress? I wear a lot of jumpers, a lot of oversized clothes, and like loads of culottes- wide flare pants or dungarees. I tend to tuck my jumpers in to high waist jeans (If im wearing jeans they will always be high waist), or skirts. Also long flowy patterned dresses. My wardrobe is pretty made up of long flowy dresses. I also either wear all black or i live in very vibrant patterns- its one or the other! also i wear a lot of rings and earrings like all the time.

dreams: Do you want any tattoos? I want loadsssss of tattoos but just havent had the time to get any done yet!

euphoric: Talk about someone you love? My grandmother is the strongest, bravest most honest woman i have ever met. No one has so much love and care within their heart as this woman does. She is my everything. I go to her for everything and she will always listen to me, look after me and just be there when I need her. she is the type of person who will drop anything just to help someone out. She does so much for the people around her, she helps everyone no matter what. She’s been through so much in her life yet continues to power through and its really just inspirational to me. If i could give her the whole entire world, i would bc she deserves nothing less.

fairy: Do you have a pet? I have a little doggo called rolo and he is just a sweet little old man who makes my heart melt. Honestly hes freaking precious and i dare anyone not to fall in love with him.

gem: who are your favourite tumblrs? I love a lot of bts based tumblrs but i feel sort of bad tagging them in this post coz its super long and im kinda shy ahahah.

giggles: What is your aesthetic of choice? i honestly dont even know? i dont really think i have one...

heart: silk or lace? ooof i think i look better in lace and i own more lace so...

honey: Coffee or tea? being italian living in england im so adjusted to both. Im a cappucino girl but i love tea. Both with milk and either 1 or 2 sugars depending on how im feeling.

hunnybunch: What sounds help you sleep? I actually sleep with earplugs in because i need like complete silence to sleep. The littlest sound and i stay awake!

kitty: Whats your favorite time of the day? I like the morning period from like 8:30-12:00 when i have nothing to do and can just send the time doing things i love!

ladybug: What’s your favorite artist to listen to when you’re sad? when im sad i tend to listen to musicals. Like the Rent soundtrack is a big go to when im upset! musicals just generally evoke a lot of emotion out of me and that tends to make me feel better

love: Whats your favorite season and why? SPRING! (I actually really love all the seasons bc i think theres something relly beautiful about each one) but spring to me just feels bright? the weather starts to change, everything sort of shines, everything gets a bit more colourful and it always feels like a new start for me.

magic: what are five flaws you have?

I worry too much about everything all the time where i cant ever really enjoy myself

I struggle with my confidence a lot and tend to put myself down

I struggle to keep control of my life a lot

I dont think im great at meeting new people and i tend to give off a bad first impression

I overthink so much to the point where i can obsess for days over the tiniest detail.

moonlight:do you prefer soft pastels, warm neutrals, or cool darks? when i think about my wardrobe its literally a mix of all three. cool darks maybe?

munchkin: what do you look for in a significant other? really i just want someone who is kind-hearted, passionate, shares my interests and makes me smile.

paddywack: How would you describe a perfect date? i think its less about where i am and more about how i feel. A perfect date would be one where i cant contain my smile because the person i am with makes me feel so happy, where i cant help but blush every time my date looks at me because their eyes seem to twinkle and show me that they like me too. A perfect date would be one where theres never ending discussions and conversations, where i laugh so loud at something my date said, or they listen to every single word of what ive said and i can tell the were listening. I want to feel comfortable and secure, like my date wants to be with me.

precious: What is something valuable that you learned in your life? Someone elses success, is not your failure.

pretty: Do you like to cook or bake more? I honestly love to do both but baking is a big hobby of mine!

prince: How would you describe you handwriting? always changing, normally cursive, slants to one side

princess:do you play any instruments? if not, are there any you wish you could play? I used to play piano. I’d love to play the guitar and also the harp would be super cool to learn

pumpkin: favorite fruit/veg? i love watermelon!!!!!! my fave veg is either broccoli, or brussel sprouts

rainbow: what was the last line of the last book you read? “always dancing in the sun. yes. yes. yes”

smitten: do you collect anything? Theater playbills, concert/show tickets, i take and collect polaroids and i also have a small collection of beach rocks and VW camper vans.

snuggle: what is your favorite candy? does chocolate count as candy?

starlight: What was your favorite show as a child? RECESS

soft: describe your favourite spot in your house? white walls decorates with lights, polaroids and patterned flags, anti war posters, a pinboard full of art, a whiteboard full of ‘to-dos’, plants, photoframes, ornaments, a flamingo, books upon books, a television nd the comfiest bed in the world...

toot: What is something you find unique about yourself? I think that i think in quite a unique way. I kind of talk and deduce and speak in a way that i dont think some people always understand.

treasure: What was something that made you smile today? I had dinner with my sisters and their boyfriends and i smiled a lot as we sat and talked. It was really nice.

whiffle: If you could have a magical power what would it be? Ive often wished i could read peoples minds or stop time. Maybe also heal people or change their state of emotion so they could always be happy.

whiskers: Do you usually wear makeup? I love wearing make up and i find it kinda therapeutic to put on. I do tend to wear makeup everyday if im leaving the house.

wiggly: Are you a messy or tidy person? tidy. I love to clean, i love clean spaces, and i also love to organize.

wispy: do you like the place where you grew up? do you think you will live there when you get older? my town is very cute and very lovely and as i grew up i dont think i ever truly appreciated how wonderful a town it is. That being said, with the dreams i have and the places i wanna go, my town is too small and i need to expand my horizons.

Thank you hun!!💜💜💜

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